Overheard today at Costco

“Eeny, meeny, miny, mo!”

“I’ve been looking for pens all day.”

“They don’t have those spring rolls that I like.”

“You sound like a little man!”

“…goes well with some avocado.”

“What would I do with two of ’em?”

“It’s just so darn good, I can’t wait for it to thicken up.”

“Daddy, want me to sing a song to you?”

“I tell ya, when we got back, I took a shower every day.”

“Don’t know, don’t care.”

I can’t believe it expires that quick!”

“I find a margarita in the morning really launches my day.”


of Easter dresses, and bunnies and posers–not poseurs.

Things That Make Me Happy: unexpectedly finding a friend who has a hand-tame rabbit that I can sit next to Violet for her Easter pictures. Luckily, I also have a friend who has a daughter the same age, so that way we can help each other out with baby and bunny wrangling.

Ideas For a Cute Photo Shoot: Easter dresses on the babies. A whole carrot with the carrot greens still attached for the babies to feed the bunny. A sunny, dry day in the park would be perfect, but…this is Washington. Outdoor lighting would really be ideal though. Any ideas Ashley?

Today I made the best baking powder biscuits I have ever (ever) ever tasted.

make these as soon as you get up tomorrow morning. No “Iff’s” “ands” or “But’s”…well, maybe a bigger butt.

The Most Amazing Biscuits Ever*

2 cups all purpose flour

1 T sugar

1 t salt

3 t baking powder

1/2 cup cold butter

(optional) dash of dill/nutmeg/chipotle pepper powder/thyme/rosemary/etc. depending on what you are serving it with. I did dill and it was awesome.

3/4 cup cold water.

Heat oven to 450. Mix dry ingredients together. Cut in cold butter with a pastry cutter (no touching with hands) till butter bits are the size of bread crumbs–no bigger than a pinky fingernail. Pour cold water over the top and mix gently with fork–don’t over mix.  As soon as the dough is formed, place it on a flour-dusted counter top and roll or press till 1/2 inch thick. Use an inverted glass or a biscuit cutter to cut out the biscuits and place them on a baking tray. Take the remaining dough bits and gently gently gently press them into a 1/2 inch thick round and cut out remaining biscuits. Take the leftover bits and just bake them along with the biscuits for like…7-12 minutes ish (?) I just waited till they were lightly brown on top. serve hot.

*Disclaimer: these might not actually be the best biscuits you’ve ever had, because it might be that I am just better at this whole baking thing than you are.


in chronological order


Sleeping in

Leisurely morning


Picking up some homemade meatloaf

Picnic in the park

Visiting with friends

Dinner at my parents house

Shotguns/gravel pits/blowing garbage into tiny bits

In the hot tub with family

Some mango vodka drink with a jalapeno at the bottom

Homemade fudge

Sleepy drive home

Blogging/Facebook/feeding Violet




Twitter tweets are for birds

and self-absorbed narcissists. Do you Twitter? Please stop. Everyone, please stop! This media darling needs to be disposed of the old-fashioned way, back before people thought everyone cared about what they ate for lunch or how mad they are at their cable company. The hottest new Twitter phase? Celebrity tweets; because you really do need to know what J-Lo, Scar-Jo, and Li-Lo are thinking–right now.

I applaud the inventors of this idea; they give us an intimate pulse on sunken societal values, where a “Me-First” generation can truly appreciate the art of self.


Here’s to my day

Here’s to my sibling that wrote “Hi” on my windshield with pieces of tortilla.

Here’s to the man out walking with a walkman and headphones.

Here’s to my daughter who stole her friend’s teething cookie and put the whole thing in her mouth till it dissolved.

Here’s to the little boy at the grocery store that made my daughter laugh.

Here’s to my husband who smacked his head on a doorjam today at work.

Here’s to my sister-in-law who named her son today; Ethan Pace.

Here’s to the cat my daughter loves.

Here’s to me holding Violet while I vacuumed to keep her from being scared of the vacuum cleaner.

Here’s to my brother’s girlfriend for forgetting her phone…again.

Here’s to friends at small group.

Here’s to family at small group.

Here’s to my life.


Great things that come in 4’s

A four leaf clover

The Beatles

The Indiana Jones series

The Gospels

Four horsemen of the Apocalypse

North, South, East, West

Four chambers in a heart

Four seasons of the year

The number of movements in a symphony

Four suits of playing cards

The Fantastic Four

A quartet

Players needed in the game of Foursquare

The Libby brothers.

That’s right–Violet is still the only girl cousin. My sister-in-law had her baby this morning,and her track record is still going strong: boy #4. Here’s a cute picture of Violet and her new little cousin who she wanted nothing to do with.



3 Things

1. My sister-in-law is labor right now. So far Violet only has boy cousins, so we are hoping for a girl. C’mon Megan, think pink!

2. I–and by association, Violet–had the greatest sugar/caffeine high ever today. I got a white chocolate mocha at starbucks, and I felt so amazing afterwards that I seriously wonder what drugs they slipped me. I drank it at 5:30, and by the time AJ got home at six, both Violet and I were literally bouncing off the walls in euphoric caffeinated delight. Since we felt so incredible, we took an amazing walk  and played at the totally awesome park next to our house. AJ was bemused.

3. Today Violet and I went to Target with my sister Angel. Naturally, Angel and I went into the toy section to play with baby dolls and see what Violet thought of them. Prepare to be creeped out; baby dolls aren’t what they used to be. Check this out. (Seriously, just click on the link so you’ll know what I’m talking about). If toy manufacturers ever want a good gauge on whether or not they’ve gone too far, they should ask a real baby. Violet would have nothing to do with them. (There’s tons of different types, and we played with them all). She kept a pretty sharp eye on them, but would not touch them or even crack a smile–just very seriously surveyed the shelves of creepy cooing babies.  Makes me want to get some; one goes in the bathroom, another in front of the stairs, still another in the pantry. They could be marketed as “Mommy’s Creepy Little Helper.”



Violet has a booster seat/highchair now, so she sits at the table with us during dinner. I made her some spinach/banana/rice cereal stuff.  Tonight we all held hands and prayed before the meal; AJ’s big hands, Violet’s tiny chubby hands, and my medium-sized hands. The first of many.

I bought paint today. So excited. The guest bathroom is going to be blueishy, Violets room is going to be winnie-the-poo-y, the hallways are going to be creamy goldish, and the master bath is going to be a lighter green version of our bedroom walls. Now I am looking for some glass tile pieces to glue to the mirrors for a faux frame.

Violet stayed in the nursery the whole time we were at MOPS today (Yay). Thats because I told them not to try changing her diaper and also there were new toys. When I came to get her, several of the babies were crying but she was just sitting there…playing with her new toy and watching them.

side note: is it wrong that it totally makes my day to see people I know driving crappy cars too?

FYI: be on the lookout–we are trying to think up an outrageous story to email Dave Ramsey so he’ll read it on the air. any ideas? (am 630, 4-7pm)


play pretend

So I guess most kids experiment with cigarettes in junior high these days. That certainly was true fora couple of my brothers. Of course, keep in mind that we were homeschooled growing up, so their introduction to smoking was really via the private-school boys next door who encouraged the idea of smoking. Don’t freak out Mom, when homeschoolers get introduced to smoking by the goody-goody private-school boys next door, they end up smoking grass. Like yard grass…rolled up in printer paper.  furtively lighting matches in the woods and trying to smoke green grass and bits of tree leaves.

That’ll probably be me someday; catching my child trying to smoke wood chips behind the garage, or making a pretend tattoo with a permanent marker. Children love pretending, experimenting, trying. Just today, Violet was chewing gum…made from some paper she’d stolen from the corner of a page in a book.  She wasn’t swallowing it, just sitting there, chewing and drooling.

AJ is watching boxing online. That is a sport that was invented by a man.


Now AJ is dancing with Violet , and she tired so she’s laughing and crying


I eat vegetarian…


I really like steak. I never buy it at a restaurant any more because I’ve found I can make a much better steak at home–even pan frying it. Personal favorite (right now) is New York Strip. I also love fajitas because they are the best of both worlds–steak and mexican.

Anyway, I have nothing to write about. nada. zilch.

right now, Violet is doing her best to slobber all over the baby in the mirror. The mirror is getting the worst of it.


An Ode to the Second Day of Spring

Today I bought Violet her first Easter dress. Pink, frilly, girly-girl. On the second day of springtime I bought my sweetie baby, a cute, pink Easter dress that’s frilly…forget the turtle doves.

Today I had some apricot wine. It tasted like the way a perfect summer day should feel. It made me feel like a picnic in a park, out on a lake on a rowboat with a guitar, picking fruit in the shade, wading barefoot, catching fish, long warm evening where the scent of the flowers just linger forever and the frogs all sing in unison. that’s my kind of wine.

Violet is going through a growth-spurt; except this is the kind of growth spurt where she doesn’t sleep through the night= she eats five or six times before “bedtime” is over= her face is getting rounder.

wow. its late.


The first of the Mohawkians

So yeah….Violet is bald on the sides of her head, but the hair strip down the center of her head is alive and well. My sweet little daughter has a mohawk. I had tons of hair when I was a baby, but AJ was bald, so I was really hoping that God would give Violet my hair genes and not his–except that I wanted her to have his curly hair. Now she has both. Bill Cosby said it best when he said, “God has a sense of humor.”

Now accepting application for the position of rich, dying, eccentric great–aunt with no other heirs. is that wrong?


5 Great Things About Today

1. AJ and Violet took a nap together this afternoon, and I got some cute pictures.

2. AJ found a booster seat highchair on craigslist for Violet that I’m going to go get tomorrow. $5!

3. I finally “decided” what colors to paint the upstairs. Soft gold and creamy yellow–same color, two different shades.

4. We had friends over for dinner and Violet had a little friend to play with all evening. Yay for card games!

5. AJ cleaned the bathroom (I hate cleaning the bathroom).


this reminds me…

my bedroom is a mess. M-E-S-S. This reminds me of a goat named Pammy.

Goats are smart…forget dolphins or monkeys, goats are the possibly the smartest creatures in the animal kingdom.  When I was little, we lived on an old farm, with an older house. Everything about that house was like a mini-time capsule to the days when my great-grandfather was a farmer.  The walls were insulated with sheep’s wool, the floors were made of brick, and the only doors with wobbly knobs were outside doors.  Having goats, this meant that anything inside the house was not only a huge source of curiosity, but also available to any goat with enough determination and concentration. Usually, they would work on the door knob till it wobbled open and then it was a mad dash to the open bag of dog food inside the door till they were caught. Of course, if the door was open, the whole house was declared “open season” by all other nearby animals…and chickens.

The worst attack ever occured on a Sunday. We were gone to church all morning and afternoon, which meant there had been plenty of time for a determined, concentrated goat. As we pulled up the hill and the house came into view, we knew immediately something was up when the front door was open and a chicken was standing in the open loft window. Running into the house, we found 5 or 6 goats and a dozen or so chickens running out the other door and leaving a ransacked house in their wake. There were still a few chickens we caught in the kitchen, a goat that had wandered up to the loft and was taste-testing a pillow, but at the end of the house we found the instigator…the oldest…the smartest; Pammy. She looked up at us, placidly chewing her cud as if to say, “It’s Sunday! Why else would I be lying stretched out on the biggest bed in the house with an open bible in front of me?”

Pammy was a milk goat, so we didn’t eat her.


ten random notes of randomness

1. If I were a fruit, I would be an apple. Fuji maybe…Braeburn, Cameo. In a completely unrelated note, the smell of an especially juicy apple just after you’ve taken a bite reminds me of horse breath. Not in a bad way though.

2. Something You Should Never Do: don’t own a chimp, or any other potentially dangerous exotic animal. How is this not a no-brainer for more people?

3. I am always running late, so sometimes I do my makeup in the car (not while driving). I’ve always thought that it would be horrible to get in an accident while I was curling my eyelashes because I would probably pull my eyelids off.

4. Left to their own devices, my feet might be hairier than my husbands. Don’t get grossed out yet–his feet are basically bald…and mine aren’t.

5. I read about a product the other day; it was an alarm clock that had a vibrating attachment you could put under your bed to shake you awake. It was my idea first. Once when I was 9, I was trying to get up early to make my mom a  Mother’s Day breakfast. Dilemma: must use an alarm to get up that early, but musn’t wake anyone. Solution: take the wind-up bell alarm clock and place it against my left ear. Wrap clock to head with a hand towel. I didn’t anticipate waking with a near heart-attack while trying to rip the towel off my head to stop the loud ringing in my ears. Anyway, that vibrating alarm could have saved me some grief.

6. Me+Laser Hair Removal=someday.

7. I can hear people gulp when they swallow. It’s gross.

8. When I’m out running, I make a point to never stop running in sight of the person who may have seen me start running. That way, no one knows how much of a wimp I am.

9. How is it the 21st century, and people are still having babies much the same way they always have?

10. I always told myself I would never let my children eat in the car. Now I jump at the chance to placate Violet by putting cheerios on her lap when she’s in the carseat.



Today was Violet’s first official playdate. And so it starts.  I feel like such a “soccer mom” saying that. Truthfully, playdates at this age are little more than a chance for the moms to have someone else entertain their baby for once. Violet and Isla seemed more interested in what they could do to each other than with each other. Instead of playing together, they examine the facets of the other baby; how easy they are to climb on, what the inside of their mouth looks  like, and what their clothes taste like.  Seriously, they were more interested in each other from a functional standpoint (“…if I crawl over her, I can get to that toy easier”) than from a relational standpoint. Violet gets more interested in a cat than another baby at this point.


Babies are Great

Violet just pooped in the tub…for the second time in just a few weeks. oi.

Taking baths is great when you’re a baby. I remember using the bath like a slip-n-slide; now I can only lie with my knees bent. The not-so-fun part I remember was watching the bathtub drain if I was still in it. I’d seen what happened to the stuff in the toilet when it flushed–why would I want to sit inside a giant flushing tub?


Quote of the Day

“Somewhere between my brain and my hand, it got all goofed up.” –anonymous

AJ and I went to a little Mexican bakery in town today. Now, I’m all about eating authentic foods, but Mexican bakeries are a joke! Its like they take one type of bland cookie/breadish dough and then just shape it into different shapes and fill it with different things and cover it in sugar–they all taste the same! Plus, the bakery was pretty nasty inside.

So I’m curious; quite a few of you read my blog, so answer me this:

Have you ever had anything good? Do they make good things? Don’t get me wrong: I’m a taco-truck devotee with the best of them, but the whole bakery idea just isn’t working for me.


Most Embarrassing Moment

Don’t worry, this isn’t my most most embarrassing moment. I have too many to pick a favorite.

I was reminded of this story the other day when I was looking through some of my brother’s pictures on facebook. I was 16, and a girl, which means pretty much anything can get filed under the “Most Embarrassing Moment” category. My mom and I had gone to Florida for his wedding, and at the airport we were picked up by my brother and his best man (i think that’s what he was). Anyway, he was totally cute, which meant I automatically had a major crush for the weekend. Plus, he was way older–bonus!

As the weekend progressed, I kept finding myself doing little stupid things in front of him; I giggled too much, got red too often, and once in the middle of telling him a story, I actually coughed and gagged on my own phlegm. Don’t make that face–you have phlegm too when you get a cold.

In the end, phlegm proved to be the lesser of the two evils. It was the last day, and we were all together sharing a brunch. I was just finishing a blueberry smoothie thing when it happened: He finally started noticing me! For the next half an hour, I flirted, I smiled, I laughed. I was getting a great response too, because he genuinely seemed to be smiling a lot, and watching me closely. I decided to withdraw to the ladies room to make sure I was looking gorgeous, but one look in the mirror told me the rest of the story. My teeth, the inside of my mouth, and my lips were stained  blue. Like Smurf Blue.


Little Robin Red Breast, sat upon a tree

while Violet in a stroller, shouted out in glee.

Said Violet to the Robin,

 “Won’t you hear my plea? Every time I try to catch you, up and away you flee!”

But Mr. Robin flicked his tail–a saucy fellow was he 

And every time she drew too near, he hopped enough to be free.

If you had been there too, I’m sure you would agree

robins do not listen–to even a baby’s decree.


Because, what else am I going to write about?

Once when I was young, I almost killed a greedy chicken.

Who: My brother, a goat, some greedy chickens, and I.

Where: In the barn at my childhood farm in Eastern Washington.

What: I think thats already been established.

When: 1995ish

Why? Well thats the best part. Milking time was always the most exciting time of the day on our farm. The goats knew they were getting grain, the sheep heard and were jealous, the horse hung his head over the fence in curiosity, the cat came running in hopes of a freebie, and the chickens and geese acted on their stealth attack plan. You see, in the life of an animal, food is everything–especially forbidden food, and unfortunately for us, all the animals knew that if one succeeded in stealing food–the rest of them stood a chance of scoring as well. Furthermore, there was no better time to try than at milking time. (Did I mention most of our animals were free-ranging in the summer?)

So, to make a long story short; Coloray and I head out to the 55-gallon grain bins holding a 5 gallon bucket. One of us would hold the animals at bay while the other one snapped the lid off the barrel and filled the five-gallon bucket. Then, we would race into the barn and slam the gate behind us to keep out the goats and sheep, although unfortunately not the chickens. Next, we would let the first goat in while trying to open the gate just wide enough to get one goat, and not all the goats. The ones outside would be craning their necks and standing on their hind legs to see what would come of that bucket of glorious grain.

Here’s where it went all wrong (or right, depending on who you ask). Since Coloray was milking the first goat up in the stanchion, I sat down on one of the open buckets of grain to keep chickens out while I kicked with my feet around the other bucket. Finally, there was such a cluster of chickens on the second bucket (and even one inside)’ that I decided to switch buckets. In fact, I decided to move fast enough to trap that chicken inside the bucket. I sat down fast and I could feel the chicken flapping around underneath me. I wasn’t squishing it–there was plenty of room, but I figured if that chicken wanted to be greedy, it could be greedy trapped in a bucket of grain–serve the stupid bird right!

It wasn’t long before I noticed the flapping and jumping slowing down, and when it stopped altogether, I decided to see what was going on. When I stood up, I realized the chicken had not been in the bucket after all. It had managed to get out quickly enough that it decided to get one last mouthful before I proceeded to sit down across it’s neck.

Mental Picture: White five-gallon bucket. Girl sitting on bucket. Chicken’s body on the outside. Chicken’s head on the inside.

Don’t worry, chickens are surprisingly resilient. It walked in circles the rest of the day, but after that it was fine.


Does this story make me a bad person?


I need these on Post It notes…

  1. I’m thankful I get to drink filtered water every day.
  2. I’m thankful my daughter is healthy.
  3. I’m thankful we live in a nice house–better than the majority of the world.
  4. I’m thankful we have so many good friends and family.
  5. I’m thankful my husband loves me.
  6. I’m thankful for accessible healthcare.
  7. I’m thankful for our car.
  8. I’m thankful that I get to be a stay-at-home mom.
  9. I’m thankful that both my parents and in-laws are still married.
  10. I’m thankful for second chances.

Some days I get too caught up in looking over at the neighbors’ grass, or wondering about that new house the “Jones’s” bought. Thanksgiving is really more a constant battle than an annual holiday for me. Today was one of those days where I kept finding myself frustrated by all my “have-nots’ until I got an envelope in the mail from World Vision. On the back of the envelope it said: “3,800 children die every day from water-related illnesses.” Reality check.


Say What?

It snowed 3 inches last night. I guess the thing that irritates me most about snow, is when it never gets in the forecast till just before it snows. Somebody at msn weather needs a paycut.

So I want to move. We live in a condo, and this summer I really want a garden. Last summer i had some potted stuff, but its just not the same.

We always had gardens when I was growing up. Massive. Intensive. Rewarding. We’re talking an acre. (trust me, an acre is big when you do everything by hand). I remember hot days in July the summer I was 7. Sitting in the middle of the rows of potato plants picking out potato beetles; the creases on the skin of my knees deeply lined with dirt. We had to get all the beetles out of the plants and then squish them between two rocks. Nobody told us that rhubarb was poisonous when raw, so you’d find us out in the middle of the garden; weeding, picking beetles, whining, and eating stalks of red rhubarb. Good hard work never killed nobody. You can quote me on that one. Later when I was 11, watering the garden meant carrying bucket-fulls up from the river and splashing precious drops on the acorn squash plants that would later feed us in the frosty months of fall and winter.

Sometimes just because it’s easier doesn’t mean it’s better for you. Sometimes the best parts of life can only be found by dirty feet dangling over a river bank after a long, hot day in a garden.


So, yeah….

You might have noticed that I didn’t blog yesterday. You would be right. I went on holiday. According to my original terms for this “every day of the year” dealeo, i did give myself the caveats of “forgetting” or “going on holiday”. Yes, I’m British. God Save the Queen!

Arg. Violet is under my chair grunting. She crawls over the chair rungs; gets high-centered; and consequently gets very mad at me (weird, huh?)

Something Funny I Just Noticed: “blog” is not in the dictionary on wordpress. Why? (yes, I may sometimes use “spellcheck”).

Anyway, yesterday we went to a great little city to spend the night in our favorite hotel. I’d tell you where and what, but if you’re a serial stalker i don’t want you knowing. For you local yokels, the name of the city rhymes with Dellingham, and the hotel..doesn’t really rhyme. Today we ate lunch served from the inside of a double decker bus that’s been converted to a fish-and-chips shop. (that’s a sentence I’ll never write again)

But enough chit-chat. This blog goes out to Melissa. You see, tomorrow Melissa is having a surprise party at my parents house. I say this for two reasons. 1: she probably won’t read this in time to ruin the surprise. 2. I have this thing with ruining surprises. Not on purpose, mind you; I just become so completely absorbed in the keeping of them that they are constantly on the tip of my tongue. Case in point: When I was 12, one of my friend’s older sisters was having a surprise party. When I saw her shortly after finding out this great secret, I said (and this was purely to make conversation, because i am an awkward sort of person), “So, I hear you’re having a surprise party!”

Happy Birthday Melissa, I hope you are surprised.


Words cannot express…

how much I anticipate the arrival of the greatest film of the year, perhaps the decade…nay, the century. Here It Is. This is a must-see–for everyone.

Anyway. You should seriously watch that preview, it’s…interesting.

It’s official–AJ is sickish too now, so today I made a huge pot of chicken soup. I always make it from scratch (like a whole chicken, and no pun intended). I put olives, mayo, radishes, and brussel sprouts in a pot and just cook that sucker up! Actually no, that would be disgusting. What I actually put in my chicken soup is a little more orthodox; carrots, onion, celery, garlic, cilantro, my secret seasoning mix, and of course, chicken.

Step 1: boil whole chicken in pot with salted water. (this time i added chipotle seasoning)

Step 2: debone chicken. Place all meat in fridge and throw away skin, bones and everything else. This of course assumes, that I threw out the nasty stuff inside in the first place like the kidneys and heart.

Step 3: Here’s hoping you haven’t thrown out the broth from step 2. Chop up all vegetables. Add them in the order of how long they need to cook: carrots, onions, potatoes, celery, garlic, cilantro. Sometimes I also add other things like spinach, parsley, uncooked winter squash, sweet potatoes or yams, summer squash, whatever. I also prefer to use a garlic press instead of dicing it up.

Step 4: Add secret seasoning mix. (Salt, black pepper, cayenne pepper powder, dried red pepper seeds,dried herbs (italian seasoning, rosemary, basil) and anything else that looks interesting…chipotle seasoning, Mrs Dash, etc) Don’t make it so spicy that you can’t eat it, but enough so that your nose runs. That’s what napkins are for.

Step 4.5: Alternately, you may also add rice or pasta at this point–be careful, it gets really thick really fast.

Step 5: Add chicken to pot when vegetables are tender, not soft. Turn off heat.

I always cook everything at a boil. I know most recipes say words like “simmer” but if you stay in the kitchen and watch the pot, you dont have to worry about it boiling over. Honestly, by the time I finished putting the last vegetables in, it was almost ready. This recipe can make anywhere from 4-8 quarts of soup. This depends on several factors: the size of the chicken, how much vegetables you use, and how much water you use. This meal gets “tupperwared” and frozen for lunches, and quick dinners.


Cheese of the Month

AJ and I Love(love) cheese. This store has a great cheese section with all sorts of cheeses and we’ve been saying for years that someday we should sample every kind in their section. Problem? Solution: Cheese of the Month!

We alternate picking out a new cheese each month. AJ has been working through some Kerrygold cheeses (amazing). Today I picked out some Beechers No Woman Jamaican Jerk seasoned cheese. In texture it resembled white cheddar, but the flavor was like mild cheese and roast beef. Imagine that Sunday roast, fresh out of the oven, surrounded by carrots, potatoes, onions and celery. That’s what this cheese tastes like.

3 Stars. It would be five, but i’m not sure i will even buy it again because i prefer to taste my roast beef straight out of the oven. Its good, but very different.


Just…dont tell me

So apparently Jack in the Box decided it would be funny to post the caloric content underneath each food item on the menu. Just kidding–I bet that wasn’t their idea. I haven’t eaten fast food in ages, so its probably not just Jack in the Box doing this, but all the same–this post goes out to Jack.

First off, you should know that a junior bacon cheeseburger has 400 calories, weighing in with one of the lowest counts on the menu. sick sick sick sick! I might have gotten a pomegranate berry smoothie with my order, but the smoothie count said it ranged from like 400-1250 ish. Yowza! Where does this madness end? If I’m so out of options that I’m ordering fast food, do you really think I want someone to kick me while I’mdown? What’s next? Caloric ratings for alcoholic drinks or a running-tally with your drive-through order?

“That’ll be 1350 calories at the next window please”