Blowing Chunks

Okay, I promised I would post about the latest Garlic Festival. I'll do it a little at a time, so it can be savored -- like bon-bons. Though hopefully NOT like garlic ice-cream.

And what can I say about garlic ice-cream? Besides the fact that they gave me a double scoop of it, and it was the longest time it ever took me to eat an ice-cream cone.

Basically, it was vanilla ice-cream, with little chunks of garlic liberally sprinkled in. I think that pretty much says it all.

It is difficult to overstate the shock to one's senses as one bites into a juicy cone full of ANYTHING liberally sprinkled with garlic. Mashed potatoes might have worked better than vanilla ice-cream, though that was not an option. Someone with a really interesting imagination thought up the recipe for this concoction. They must surely reside in an institution for the criminally (or at least culinarily) insane.

Thus endeth my official review of garlic ice-cream. Though I must admit it wasn't so bad once I'd gotten down to the last few bites. Very much the same way limburger cheese sprinkled with pickled beets might not be too bad, if you only had to eat a few bites of it.

I loved the whole experience of my trip to Minnesota for the Second Annual Garlic Festival. The rest of it was so good that on the balance, one wacky ice-cream cone was merely a blip on the screen.

Old Broads Behaving Badly

Well, almost thirty years after hanging up my sneakers, I'm going to be playing basketball again.

Some fellow Mercury and Lady Sun Devil fans and I are launching our own local "mature" ladies' basketball league.

I am a very political animal, and basketball is definitely political -- at least when we women play it. All sorts of male losers are getting their tighty-whities in a bunch because women are playing basketball, enjoying it and loving to watch other women play it. This is yet another rung on the ladder of our climb toward TAKING OVER THE WORLD. Get used to it.

The sour grapes over at many of the online article comment boards are truly pathetic. It has taken MY Phoenix Mercury 11 years to do what the Suns haven't been able to accomplish in almost forty.

WAAAAAAAHHHH!!!

Yes, let's call the waaaambulance, please. The sexism and homophobia in the air is getting downright poisonous. But of course, we womens' B-ball fans just find it funny.

If all the women in the world were heterosexual, these sad clowns in the circus of life couldn't get one between them. Neither could any of them make a third-grade hopscotch team.

Weep on, you dead ends in the gene pool. And may your genes die out, as they well deserve to.

Bring on ladies' basketball and the Catwomen -- our new team. We may not be quite ready for the Mercury or the Lady Sun Devils, but our day will come!