Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Unbelievably Cranky

So just what is it that will get the Unbelievables out of a funk? Aside from the love and adoration that come from being rock and roll stars, let's say.
Well, for every Unbelievable mood, there is an equal and opposite mood-changer. (That's Noble's First Law of Cantankerousness right there.) For each individual Unbelievable there is something that is guaranteed to enhance his outlook on life.

For Michael (whose law it is anyway), anything that presents him with the opportunity to go pantsless tends to do the trick, whether it be nude volleyball (he was All-American his sophomore year by the way), nude cookery (little tip here: no naked BBQing) or simply naked trampolining, the act of dropping trou will immediately lift his spirits.

However, only Michael will put on open-air public demonstrations of his nakey skills.

And Clark? He can be won over by the well-timed presentation of a nice piece of cake, pie or even cake-pie (pake, for the uninitiated), with a steaming mug of hot fresh coffee, preferably while behind the wheel of his precious 'Vette and in the lovely company of one or two Unbelievababes. We do realise that this sounds like rather a dangerous proposition (road safety and all that), however we should point out that generally speaking he just goes to sulk in the 'Vette in the garage and is usually not on the highway when he is in a sour mood. Something to do with biorhythms, he has been known to claim. Not good to drive while upset. On the whole, Michael and myself can get behind this idea (we wouldn't want Clark to make a cardinal driving error due to his crankiness, and damage the motor, would we?), but if we're being frank, we privately believe it's because he doesn't want the car to get dirty.

This is not cake-pie. It's pie-cake. Totally different thing. Still delicious though.

Now THIS is cake-pie.

And what of myself? What do I do when I find myself overtaken by the gods of grump? How do I get myself out of the mire of curmudge?

Some might guess that I would head to the kitchen and scare up some whipped potatoes in double quick time, but no;
I have found to my dismay that while the consumption of such a culinary delight may alleviate a foul mood, trying to cook while cranky can have hazardous and potentially disastrous consequences. Believe me, I have the scars to prove it.

Nope, for me I have found that the ideal thing to do at a time like that is to sit in a comfortable high backed armchair by the fireside, put on some mellow music or an episode of Diagnosis Murder (that Dick Van Dyke just breaks me up!), 

"I'm not a doctor-turned-detective, I just play one on TV."

and sip on a glass of Old Curmudgeon Ale. Pretty soon I am back to my old self and ready to join my compadres for more action and world-saving.

You're welcome, world.

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