Val and Hick Have a FAIRLY Good Lunch at the Casino

Hick and I were excited to try the FAIR FOOD at the casino last Thursday. We'd seen samples of it being brought out on our last visit two weeks prior. The waitress said that since the county couldn't hold their annual fair, the casino was switching up the menu of their only open restaurant to serve FAIR FOOD. Because the casino is selfless like that, I presume...

The menu posted at the entrance didn't explain what some items were. Most FAIR FOODS are pretty recognizable. We knew we wanted to share a funnel cake. I chose a Foot-Long Corn Dog, but couldn't decide on a side. Not that it was a combo. Everything was separate for the FAIR FOOD. I decided on Ribbon Potatoes. I assumed they would be like the home-made potato chips that come from one long slice of potato. It was.

Hick picked the Bacon-Wrapped Pork Chops. I had no idea what that might look like. But with a price of 2 for $5.99, I was pretty sure they weren't going to look like something served to Fred Flintstone in his car. Hick went with the Curly Fries for a side. I was hoping he'd pick the Philly Fries, but no such luck. Good thing, because later I saw a picture, and they were curly fries with Philly cheesesteak ingredients on them. Hick doesn't like green peppers.

Anyhoo... let's get to the pictures.

That's my Foot-Long Corn Dog, with the other items in the background. I sent a picture to The Pony, who didn't accompany us because he'd been feeling a bit indisposed. He said, "That's the skinniest corn dog I've ever seen!" I agree. You might think there wasn't much batter on it, but there was. Inside was the skinniest hot dog I had ever seen. The Foot-Long Corn Dog had a good taste. It was crispy. I sometimes use ketchup on a corn dog, but ketchup did not complement this batter. It was good with mustard, though.

My Ribbon Potato was delicious! It was my favorite of all our FAIR FOODS. Crispy, with a little dash of some special seasoning. This kind of potato can sometimes be too oily, or limp and tough. Not mine! I ate every crumb! It looks like more than what's there. It was probably less than one of those Big Grab bags of chips that you can get for a dollar at convenience stores.

Those are Hick's Bacon-Wrapped Pork Chops. I cautioned him to let me get a picture first, but he'd already started his feeding frenzy. I don't know about Hick, but I would term them a disappointment. He said there were cubes of pork chop skewered on the stick, then wrapped with bacon. They didn't come with any sauce. I'm pretty sure Hick ate them straight.

Those are Hick's Curly Fries. I did not try them, but they were plentiful. So much that Hick did not finish the entire basket. I'm pretty sure it wasn't because he got filled up on his Bacon-Wrapped Pork Chops! I think the Curly Fries might have had a spicy coating. Not sure.

Here's the Funnel Cake. Or as I have come to think of it, the unhappy non-birthday imitation cake. Whoever made this sad treat must have been launching his maiden Funnel Cake. It wasn't so much poured through a funnel as it seemed to have trickled out the end of a ballpoint pen. It barely wove together in a cake form. More like assorted strands of fried batter. And they must have been rationing the confectioner's sugar! The Funnel Cake came with two sauces: caramel and chocolate. I pulled a fast one, and snatched the caramel, telling Hick: "You can have the chocolate sauce."

I was eager to share the caramel sauce with Hick, after the first bite. It was more like watery caramel juice, not sauce. It dripped too much to get a good coating on the Funnel Cake strands. It was like dipping a single strand of spaghetti in tomato juice! Hick declared that the chocolate sauce was "Not good." I gave it a try. It was also runny, and had a bitter taste. We came to the conclusion that the FUNnel Cake was a SADdel Cake. The Pony didn't miss much. He wasn't even enthusiastic about the Foot-Long Corn Dog after seeing the picture.

Too bad, so sad. We won't have a chance to sample the FAIR FOOD again. Saturday, September 19, was the last day of the casino fair. In ranking the items we tried, noting that I did not taste any of Hick's food, I would say they go, in order of best to worst:

Ribbon Potato

Foot-Long Corn Dog

Curly Fries

Bacon-Wrapped Pork Chops

Funnel Cake

Hope you enjoyed this little taste of FAIR FOOD! Val gets out and about to try these things, so you don't have to!

Hick, in the Casino, With a Dope

Reports of Hick being an asymptomatic superspreader are greatly exaggerated.

 

We went to the casino on Thursday. The Pony was feeling a bit indisposed, and did not make the trip with us. So it was just Hick and me in line at the grill for lunch. We were looking forward to the FAIR FOOD that we'd glimpsed last trip. [You'll see the fair food tomorrow.]

 

At 2:30, Hick met me at the entrance. It's an open area on the back right side of the casino. It used to be called the Lone Wolf Express, but with the new ownership since January, it's called Express. You go through a line, looking at pie slices in a glass case, and the menu on the wall up near the ceiling. Then you order at the register, get your foam soda cup/lid/straw, and head to the soda fountain. NO REFILLS!

 

The Pony would have been proud of Hick this time. He actually waved his palm under the sanitizer dispenser at the entrance to Express, rather than pushing on it, whacking it, and shaking it. We were sanitized up to our elbows as we walked across the tile to the pie cooler. Of course we were masked, as that's a rule to gain entrance into the casino, and not get tossed out on your ear. I, myself, felt prepared to perform surgery. Hick, I wouldn't have trusted to play a game of OPERATION! Not for sterility reasons, but because he doesn't know water-on-the-knee from a wrenched ankle.

 

Anyhoo... Hick walked ahead of me, and I didn't think to complain. He does that all the time, almost as if I am not worthy. Besides, I was thinking about what FAIR FOODS I wanted for my meal. I was standing behind Hick, still thinking, when the man ahead of him turned around.

 

"Hey, buddy."

 

Buddy did not speak back. In fact, he looked a little unfriendly. Then it dawned on me what his problem was. Hick had dared get within four feet of his back! I guess Hick sensed his perceived faux pas. But he held his ground. 

 

"I'm on MY circle, buddy. Yours is over there." Hick pointed ahead to the next circle, over by the brick wall.

 

Indeed, Hick WAS standing on the six-foot circle. Buddy was in No Man's Land. He'd been looking up in the air. Maybe he was really far-sighted, reading the menu on the back wall. I had assumed he would either go towards the line proper, or we'd pass around him. The only other person in Express was a little old lady standing at the register about 20 feet away! 

In fact, there were THREE more six-foot circle decals between newly-relocated Buddy's spot, and the little old lady. Buddy stood there until she paid and went out into the eating area. Then he walked across the three other circles to order.

Hick and I ordered our FAIR FOOD [tomorrow, I told you!] and proceeded to a table. The tables are set up at least 10 feet apart. Maybe 15. They've taken some of them out. Of course once we were served our food, we took off our masks to eat. 

 

Midway through our feeding frenzy, I glanced over at the table Buddy had chosen by the entrance. He had been joined by a buddy. They were both dressed in jeans and flannel shirts. It's kind of a uniform around here, even in summer, although temps were in the 70s that day.

Buddy was wearing his mask, so I figured he had finished his meal, and was chatting with his buddy, whose back was to me. Then I saw Buddy pick up something, and lift it towards his mouth! I was distracted by Hick asking something, and took my eyes off him momentarily. I swear, I'm pretty sure Buddy shoved a morsel of food up under his mask to eat it!

Ooh! Yuck! I can't imagine how much gunk was embedded in the weave of that mask, after wearing it around the casino, and touching it to adjust it. And now Buddy was shaking it loose right over his mouth, moving it to put food into his probably-gaping maw. Yet he'd been worried about Masked Hick standing within four feet of his masked self. I guess next time, Buddy will plop himself on a distancing decal forthwith. 

Of course, he'll probably expect the next person to allow three empty circles between them. That is crazy, baby! To wear a mask while you're eating! If you're that skittish, perhaps you shouldn't come to a freakin' casino!

It takes all kinds of kinds, I suppose. As Miranda Lambert sings.

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Did I mention that tomorrow, I'll tell you about the FAIR FOOD? With pictures!

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19 CENTS on the 19th, for Val's Future Pennyillionaire Fortune!

Three late-week additions ruined my original title this week, but that's okay! We never turn away any coins that turn up after the title, or even after the Saturday CENTSus goes to press.

 

SUNDAY, September 13, I was thrilled to see a dirty spot on the floor of the Gas Station Chicken Store. They usually run a clean shop. The place is small and old, but you don't find unswept messes on their tile. I couldn't quite tell what I was looking at. For a spot of dirt, it was quite symmetrical. So I put my toe on it to see if I could move it, and I COULD!

Lucky for me, but more lucky for THEM, nobody was behind me to view my ample rumpus as I bent over to take possession of my rightful nickel!

It was a face-down 1984 nickel, patiently waiting to come home with me.

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Back at the Gas Station Chicken Store on MONDAY, September 14, I left my phone in T-Hoe. SamGalA needed an android update. Apparently, I'd been ignoring the requests. I would be subjected to a FORCED UPDATE on the 15th, at 1:30. No thank you. Nobody FORCES Val to do anything. So I okayed the update, and left SamGalA to soak up the signal that's better in town than in my kitchen.

Of course you know what happened. Walking from the soda fountain to the register, I spied a DIME on the floor by the chicken counter. No chicken since the VIRUS, so I set my 44 oz Diet Coke on the counter, and waved my ample rumpus for the mirrors above the beer coolers. I'm pretty sure I was caught on the surveillance video. If they caught a sunglasses thief in that very spot, I'm sure my ample rumpus made the highlight reel.

Anyhoo... because my phone was out in T-Hoe, I lost a little joy in my discovery. Once outside, I couldn't even get a picture with the Gas Station Chicken Store surroundings, because my android update was only 62% complete.

 

Back home in the driveway, I got my picture of this 2000 dime, which was face-down in the store.

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WEDNESDAY, September 16, I had business at the bank over in Sis-Town, so I stopped by the Casey's for T-Hoe's weekly gas. While waiting to pay, I spied a penny meant just for me. I gladly vacated my next-in-lineness, and waved my ample rumpus like the checkered flag at Daytona taking a victory lap, so I could get a picture.

Maybe OTHER people are also plastic Christmas mooses, dropping money out of THEIR butts, as they walk out the door.

It was a heads-up 1999 penny, with a floor-detritus arrow pointing right at it! I didn't party like it was 1999. I can only draw so much attention to myself.

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THURSDAY, September 17, I pulled out the chair to sit down at the slot machine where I won my $8,600, and found a little gift waiting for me.

It's all paper money or printed tickets these days. The only place to get pennies, nickels, or quarters is at a cash machine (none near this slot), or the cashier's counter (on the other side of the casino).

 

It was a heads-up 1965 penny, waiting by a slot that doesn't take any coins whatsoever. Oh, and on the way home, I heard my special "Mom" song Holes in the Floor of Heaven, and when I woke up in my OPC (Old People Chair) later that night, I saw an infomercial with a LADYBUG nap-time sleeping bag for kids. I guess my mom went gambling with me that day, since The Pony was a bit under the weather and did not accompany us!

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FRIDAY, September 18, was Save A Lot shopping day. I parked in not-my-regular spot, because that was the only one open in the front row. I was actually closer to the Dollar Store end of the lot. There was a gray Tahoe parked on my left, as I opened T-Hoe's large black door. Plenty of room to get out. I was hoping nothing would park closer if that Tahoe left while I was shopping. I even looked out the front window to check, as I was boxing up my groceries. Empty. So far...

I had already climbed in, and was reaching to close the door when I saw a PENNY waiting just for me! I suppose it had been under the gray Tahoe, patiently waiting to reveal itself to me.

It was a heads-up 2017 penny, shiny on the asphalt. Of course I didn't mind climbing back down to fetch him. I had already seated myself again, and reached for the door, when ANOTHER irregularity caught my eye. YES! It was a second penny that I almost missed! 

You'll never see it if you don't zoom in. It's at about the 10 o'clock position compared to the first one. Over by the donut-looking white trash, to the left of the white trash below the donut. It was dirty, and blended in with the dark blacktop.

At least I got a close-up on T-Hoe's console. It was a 2005 heads-up penny. I was planning to photograph it in the field (LOT), but a car was coming, and I thought it might want to park there. So I just grabbed it and climbed into T-Hoe for the third time.

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That makes 6 COINS, and 19 CENTS that have thrown themselves at Val this week!

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2020 RUNNING TOTAL

Penny       # 107, 108, 109, 110.
Dime         # 19.
Nickel       # 10.
Quarter    still at 1.

2019 TOTALS
Penny     134
Dime        20
Nickel        8
Quarter      5
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The Schemer Asks Val To Provide a Schematic

As if Hick eating my hour-and-forty-minute supper in six minutes were not enough of a red flag waved in front of ready-to-charge Val... he dared to pass off a personal request after sating himself with the fruits of my labor.

"If I email you a picture of a schematic, can you print it for me?"

"Where did you get it?"

"Off my phone."

"I KNOW that! Where did it come from?"

"Off the internet."

"I know that."

"Well I don't know how much more you want me to say. Can you print it?"

"Last time I printed one, you said it was too small. I can't blow it up."

"Well I can blow it up on my phone. But it's hard to hold my phone while I'm working over in the BARn. Can't you print a whole page? Doesn't it fill the page?"

"Maybe, depends on the size of it. When do you need it?"

"Not soon. Just by tomorrow."

"It's already 7:40 p.m.!"

Hick had no response to that. So I tried. Dowloaded his picture of the schematic showing 38 parts of a shotgun, numbered in the order to take them apart, maybe? Or put back together? I don't read schematics.

The top half was in big bold print: Harrington and Richardson Shotguns. It had a model number. The schematic was the bottom half of the page. I opened it in PAINT, and cropped just the parts, mainly.

I tried to print, but my printer was dead. Oh, it had the green flashing light. But it made no noise like it was limbering up for a print job. It has been doing this since I replaced the ink cartridge. I went into TROUBLESHOOTING, but it just showed the job was pending. Not failed, or whatever that message is.

I looked over my printer. Pushed the OKAY button. The green light went from flashing to solid. No sound of printing. I went back to the DEVICES and the TROUBLESHOOTING. Wait a minute! The job was trying to print to the WORKSHOP PRINTER. The color printer that Genius brought home and gave to me. I switched to my LaserJet, and it worked!

I got a good copy, but with a logo in the background that barely showed on my computer monitor. I lightened the quality to DRAFT, which lightened the background logo, but also the numbered parts 1-38. Hick DID send me a text the next day, saying that it came out good. So he can rebuild his gun and make a tidy profit. 

All for free, I might add. No profit for Val. Used up some of my new recycled ink, too!

Gone in 360 Seconds

You might sense that I garner no joy in cooking for Hick. I do it. But I don't have to enjoy it. No matter how much or how little effort I put in, the meal is hoovered up like the blueberry pies by Davy Lard-Ass Hogan in the story told by Gordy LaChance in the movie Stand By Me. 

Tuesday evening, I made deep dish pizza for Hick and The Pony. They both love it. Nothing elaborate. It's from the box mix by Chef Boyardee. You mix the packaged dough, let it rise, pour on the canned sauce, and shove it in the oven. Easy peasy, but time-consuming. Oh, and while The Pony likes his pizza right out of the box, Hick must have MEAT on his portion. So I fry hamburger to add on top.

I'd already devoted 50 minutes to the endeavor. The Pony had just slid the puffy creation into the oven. I was washing up some of the dishes when Hick traipsed through the kitchen, and said,

"Now don't take this wrong. But what do you say... it's going to be... maybe 20 minutes until it's done?"

"Yes. Twenty minutes."

"Okay. Because my buddy just called, and wants some numbers off a gun that I have up at my store, so I'm going to run up there and get it. I should be back when it's ready."

"Whatever."

 

"I can warm it up."

 

"I'll set yours on the stove. I want to get the pan washed."

The trip to town is 10 minutes. The trip back is 10 minutes. I KNEW Hick wouldn't be home when the pizza came out of the oven. In fact, The Pony had finished eating his portion, and was already soaking in the big triangle tub as per his nightly ritual, and I'd washed up all the dishes involved.

Hick was gone for 50 minutes. 

He picked up his deep dish pizza from the stove, and headed for the living room. By the time I wrapped up The Pony's tomorrow-supper and went to sit on the short couch, Hick WAS DONE!

I had devoted an hour and forty minutes to that meal, and Hick ate it in six minutes. I'm glad I didn't whip up a gourmet feast.

Hick Spots a Black Panther

Last week, Hick got a call from HOS (Hick's Oldest Son). They've both been busy with their own lives lately, and haven't been in communication. I only have Hick's side of the tale.

"HOS called me and asked if I still collect things. Well, yeah. He said he knew a lady that had a black panther for sale. In a glass case."

"WHAT? Where would she get that? I don't think you're supposed to have that stuff. It's an exotic animal."

"Apparently, it belonged to her father-in-law, and he died, and she's trying to sell off some stuff. I want you to look up and see if it's legal to own in Missouri."

"Because I have all the time in the world, and you don't have a phone with unlimited data..."

"I TRIED to look it up on my phone, Val, but I couldn't find anything."

"Here. I'll do it right now, while I've still got my laptop on."

Huh. It's really hard to find that information. I couldn't find anything definite. Just a little on the Missouri Department of Conservation website.

"Was it roadkill? Did somebody shoot it? Did that guy buy it? Who stuffed it? The main thing here looks like you need a letter saying it's legal to own. But that depends on how it was killed, and where."

"I had one of my buddies looking, too, and he found that same thing you have there. I don't know if she has a letter. I'm supposed to go look at it this afternoon."

"You're going to her HOUSE?"

"How else am I going to look at it?"

"You're not going to BUY it, are you? What would you do with something like that?"

"I'd put it up at my locker! And probably sell it."

"That's all you need, an illegal stuffed exotic animal at your Storage Unit Store. Where somebody will see it, and report you!"

"It may not be illegal!"

"Don't buy it! You're not going to buy it today, are you? How much is it?"

"Not today. I have to look at it. And find out if it's legal. HOS says she wants two for it. That's cheap! I know I could sell it for more than that! Maybe I'll call the game warden. He should know the laws about exotic animals."

"Yes! That's the best idea. If anyone could tell you Missouri's laws on exotic animals, it should be the game warden."

 

So off went Hick, to see a black panther in a glass case. When he came home, he showed me a picture that he took with his phone. Not a very good picture, but we'll get to that lower in the page.

 

"I went in there and seen it. She had all kinds of stuff like that! She didn't have a letter for the panther. The guy's wife is an old lady, and she didn't know anything about any paperwork for it. But she said he used to hunt a lot. He bought this one though. It's been studied, and it's from South America."

 

"Then you'll definitely need a letter! What did the game warden say?"

 

"I didn't talk to the game warden. This panther must be okay, because otherwise, how could the guy have brought it into the country? He must have a letter somewhere."

 

"That is NOT a picture of a black panther. A panther doesn't have spots like that!"

 

"She said the name of it, but I can't remember.  I think some panthers have spots."

"Is it a jaguar? Or a civet cat? A leopard? I don't know what their spots look like, or where they live, but those are the only big spotted cats I can think of right now."

"I don't remember what kind she said. Anyway, I said, 'So how much do you want for it?' Even though HOS told me she wanted two, I figured I should hear it from her. That glass case it's in is one-inch-thick plate glass. I knew I could get more than two hundred just by selling the glass."

"That would be stupid, to buy a black panther with spots in a glass case, and then sell the case for the glass."

"I don't think I'll be buying it. When I asked the price, she said, 'Two THOUSAND!' I had no idea she's want THAT much! I thought HOS meant two HUNDRED! This lady said the guy had paid five thousand for it way back when he got it. I need to tell my one friend up in Iowa, who built that house with the fancy carved staircase. This is just the kind of thing that would interest him."

Yes. Hick still collects things. But not a two-thousand-dollar, (non-black) black panther, with spots, in a glass case.

As with most things Hick, the end result is often quite different from the original concept.

Moose Pooping Money Butt

Do you ever feel like a Christmas stocking-stuffer plastic moose that poops out jellybeans? Probably not. Because my readers are all sophisticated cool cats who never poop. Not even jellybeans! 

 

You are a starched collar on a tuxedo shirt, while I am the madras shirt from the bottom of the hamper. 

 

You are a newly-completed section of the Oklahoma Turnpike, and I am a long and winding road littered with fast food wrappers, that turns to gravel, and then becomes a pig trail through the underbrush. 

 

You are a shiny scalpel fresh from the autoclave, and I am a rusty razor blade found in an upside-down coffee can nailed to the floor of a ramshackle shanty undergoing demolition.

Yet still, I feel like a Christmas stocking-stuffer moose lately. The Universe pats me on the head, and money falls out of my butt! Forget about jellybeans!

Monday, I got an envelope out of EmBee. It looked like junk mail to me. I was about ready to throw it away with the catalog from Uncommon Goods, and the AARP Bulletin. But since it was addressed to ME, and had the word INSURANCE in the return address, I ripped it open while sitting in T-Hoe.

 

It was a CHECK, by cracky! A check for $54.50. Val was not born yesterday. She has gotten many a fake check in her day. Checks that look like checks, but are only applicable to specific merchandise that you purchase from the entity who sent out the check. Not a REAL check. So I started reading what came along with this check, which was from a supplemental insurance company we shall call PISSY. I had not had any PISSY dealings for at least two years. Maybe three.

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Dear valued PISSY policyholder:

Because of the COVID-19 pandemic, many members have had to delay things like routine dental care. It's why Untied CordCONia D-Mental is issuing the enclosed premium refund. Throughout the pandemic, PISSY has partnered with Untied CordCONia to remain focused on supporting our customers while delivering a safe and remarkable dental health experience. This refund is another way we can assist our customers during these unprecedented times.

Attached you will find your refund check, which is 50% of one month's dental premium.

Thank you for the continued opportunity to serve you.

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Here's the problem. I am not currently a PISSY policyholder. We tried it for one year, for optical and dental insurance for Hick, me, and The Pony. I think Genius was included, since once you put one kid on, it was a family thing. A year of coverage was somewhere between $1100 and $1800. Not bad if all four of us used it to the hilt. But we found that we did not. So I did not renew the policy when it came due. 

The policy year ended. A renewal letter came, stating that if you did not pay within 30 days, the policy became void, and you could not re-join until 3 years had passed. Fine with me. I had no intention of buying the service again.

Well. Several times a year, I would get an offical-looking statement from PISSY, telling me that I needed to pay my premium for this insurance. No. I did not. I had let it lapse months ago, and was not able to rejoin for 3 years. STILL, they would send letters saying I still had time to re-join. A less suspicious oldster might have fallen for this tactic. Not Val.

SO... since I have not had this coverage for over two years now, I don't think I am entitled (well, I DO think I'm ENTITLED, but not to this) to reap the benefits of a refund check for a premium for which I do not pay!

 

 

Hick thinks checks got sent to all customers of PISSY, and that they'd have no way of knowing if a lapsed person got the refund check and cashed it. I say they DO know. The check is written by PISSY, according to the front of the check itself. In the "notes" it says: PISSY Dental Covid Refund.

I think this is a trick by PISSY to get people to cash the check. Then they will claim that it was a refund for a part of the PREMIUM, and demand that you pay the entire premium.

Not gonna do it. That $54.50 check is not worth a tussle with PISSY over paying a $1100 to $1800 premium for a service which I no longer want. Don't you worry about Val missing out on $54.50. In town, I bought two scratchers. One of them won $50. 

The other scratcher?

A $100 winner. Better than a PISSY partial refund for an insurance premium I didn't pay for.