In the continuing tradition of Ethnic Eating Events, last night was Frankfurter Friday at the B2G2 (The Barnebey's Beer Garden & Grille). You may be asking yourself right now, "Is Frankfurt really an ethnicity?". Maybe, maybe not. The important part is it alliterates with a day of the week, and it gave me a really good excuse to recreate The Dogg Haus in my parents' backyard.
I obviously started off with a Wisconsin Dogg and I think that's Evan stuffing a Sante Fe into his mouth. There were only more sausages to come.
At last count, the grill had smoked 10 varieties of meat in stick form, 14 toppings had been topped, 4 cheeses had been cheesed, 8 polkas had been polka-ed, 4 boots drank, and 6 (cole-)slaws slawed. Monday is Montego Monday.
On the way back to Philadelphia Kermit had to ride in the overhead bin. It was his first time up there. I'm pretty sure those things aren't airtight, so he should have been fine, although he may have shifted during flight. I wish I had gotten this email from Jobonga earlier:
Nice. I dare you to press the call button and ask for a tumbler of ice. If Kermit is with you, say, "It's for the frog."
The next item on the frog's itinerary was in Charlottesville, VA. He ended up coming along, but not without some kicking and screaming first.
I don't know what his problem was, he loves parties. And he really needed to get some sun on his frog parts. We took him for a ramble around the UVa campus between ceremonies and it seemed to do him some good.
By the time we had to hotfoot it over to the Hindu portion of he evening he was his old bubbly, touchy self again. Which was nice, but as it turns out, it's really not that hard to be green after all. He was even going to come to the reception later. He ended up passing out instead.
Arrested Development brought a lot of important things into our worlds. Tobias' cat-like agility; Lucille, Lucille 2, and the Loose Seal; the (former) Bob Loblaw Law Blog; that kid who found a severed hand — all amazing TV moments. But sometimes, it's early on a Sunday morning, that sleeping you just did has been making you thirsty, and you need to see all those chicken dances again. You don't remember which episodes they're in, but surely google will know. Go ahead, try to google it, it won't help.
It's unclear to me why nobody has compiled a definitive set of the Bluth Family's physiologically inaccurate chicken taunts yet, and more importantly, tagged it in an appropriately manner. This is why we have the internet after all. Without further ado,
☞ We see Gob's impression for the first(?) time when he accuses Buster of cowardice at the construction site. Buster makes the accurate observation that chickens do not in fact clap.
Episode 2.3 - Amigos! (a.k.a. It's not the same in Mexico)
☞ We find out that Gob's chicken impression is a much more inflammatory gesture in Mexico.
Episode 2.9 - Burning Love (a.k.a. And your little dance, too.)
☞ Gob does a subdued version of his dance on the Segway due to prior injury.
☞ We see Lindsay's impression for the first time. Michael makes the accurate observation that neither his brother's nor his sister's impressions resemble a bird.
Episode 2.17 - Spring Breakout(a.k.a. Lucille in flight)
☞ Lucille, drunk at 1 PM, taunts a possible investor with her chicken impression, by far the most chicken-like of the family's.
Episode 3.2 - For British Eyes Only (a.k.a. Has anyone in this family ever even seen a chicken‽)
☞ The pièce de résistance. The Holy Grail of chicken dance. George Sr., Lucille, Lindsay, Gob in a chicken mask. Michael accurately observes that it doesn't seem like any of the Bluths know what a chicken looks like.
Bonus:
Episode 2.7 - Switch Hitter (a.k.a. The Tweety Bird)
☞ We learn that even as a boy Gob had difficulties imitating fowl.
Tall urinals just feel better than those flimsy wall-mounted ones. It feels good to have that whole expanse of porcelain to piss towards instead of some little bucket around your thighs, it's just more natural.
Welcome to the next level of luxury: The Urintray, the convenient urinal mounted ashtray. You'll never have to decide between urination and inhalation again.
It's been a hard day's night. I don't usually count my sweaters, I've got Joanna for that, but oh(!) darling, something's really happened here. This current round of sweatering has been going on since October, which means we've been through a lot of knitwear together. By now we've been here, there, and everywhere; but now here comes the sun. Barring any mid-May cold snaps, this feels like the end of my '08-'09 Sweatering Season. It'll be nice to not carry that weight of organizing these photo shoots every week anymore; it's hard to get us all to come together sometimes. I'll miss the sweaters though. And the camaraderie.
To finish this up I put on four of my v-necks that haven't made it out on Thursday yet this year— a blue, a heather grey, a black, and an eggshell. Or maybe it's a taupe. Who cares.
This morning Kermit and I were out galavanting around Madison on our bike. Not surprisingly someone was mildly taken aback by seeing a man on a bike, topped with a frog. It's nice that they're talking about it as far away as BOS though. I also crossed paths with Lisa Johns. She told me she was sure it was me because I had a giant frog on my back.
