Fall Is For Cookies And Coffee And That’s Good Enough For Me

I don’t know where you live but here, Fall has arrived in a fantastic fashion. In what feels like an overnight assault, the trees are bright red and orange, the air is cool and dry and little pumpkin patches are springing up all over, each vying for the most sincere. Over the weekend I wasted no time drinking enough cider to safely say I ingested a bushel and watched Halloween 4 at least four times. Needless to say, we are in the season when you freeze in the morning and have a heat stroke by noon. I love it.

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Besides the great weather and horror movies airing on primetime, lets not leave out festive cookies. I am not one to eat a lot of sugar so rarely do I indulge in cookies but this time of the year, how could I not? The entire Nestle Toll House package is a thick sheet of glorious dough, filled with orange and brown chocolate chips. I can’t help but bite at the package leaving teeth marks up and down the dough. It’s a weight x girth/cube size equation for me. If all numbers align, I bite.

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Perfect little squares are a weakness of mine. It makes me want to peel these apart and build the talking prism from the show Out Of This World. There is nothing that you cannot do with building blocks of cookie dough if you can get past the salmonella. That’s the only show stopper for me. I know millions eat raw cookie every hour but the chances are still not in my favor when Lady Luck has anything to do with me, numbered odds and a toilet. I will bake these cookies and scrub my hands as if I am engaging in exploratory surgery.

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While those magnificent cubes are baking let me wax poetry to you about Fall coffee that is NOT pumpkin flavor. Don’t get me wrong, I love pumpkin flavoring this time of the year but it’s nice to see a contender who brings it with straight beans. The monopoly of Starbucks has come out with a “cozy” blend for the nice price of $12 a bag. And by nice I mean stupid. But it’s not the price or the obvious repackaging of Springtime blends in a Fall bag but when you say the word “cozy” on a coffee bag, it is coming home with me.

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Back to the cookies! Well, after a few minutes at 350•, we have Halloween cookies which are no where near as impressive as the cookie on the package. But after all these years writing on the same topic, you would think I would know this by now. Or at least not frown when I stare at two limp-dick cookies. I mean, look at my dog’s face! You wouldn’t know it but he has a pretty refined palate, aside from chewing his butt.

And the coffee?

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They were right. Completely cozy and perfect for early Autumn mornings by the fire. Especially when you grill bacon and sausages in beer. Life could be worse, my friends. Life could be worse.

Also, I built a bar. Sorry about the eyesore trashcan in the frame.

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I know this post was weak but I have a few including a video tonight staring guests you very well may know! I am showing my love for some of the most fantastic TV horror as well as ramping up the Halloween Spook Show with prizes and discussions! Be afraid, it all starts tonight!

The Haunted Barn 1988

I grew up in Marietta, Georgia just north of the city of Atlanta. Back in the 1980’s and 90’s it was one of the biggest suburbs which was about as close to a Tim Burton version of middle class America as you could get. Every house was similar, the grass was cut on Saturday mornings while the kids watched cartoons until eleven o’clock or when high school academic game shows came on. That was a sign to get outside to ride bikes. The ball games were always on an outside radio and errands running families crowded Sears or whatever was on their lists. It was an awesome place and time to be a kid.

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One of the Saturday staples was the Chattahoochee Nature Center located right on the bank of the Chattahoochee river. It was a place of many great childhood memories for me ranging from a five-year old to a young soldier at home on leave. The Chattahoochee Center was the place I spun around so fast on a tire swing, I puked in the parking lot and Mom made me take off my pants in front of my preschool class and lay down in the backseat of the car on the way home. Which, of course, resulted in more puking. A place where my best friend Simon teased a goose causing it to chase him around the park, instantly transforming him from a manly seventeen year old boy into a screaming twelve-year-old girl. A place where my other buddy Johnny got so high he went to pee in the river, lost his footing causing him to uncontrollably slide down the embankment into hip deep into the water resulting into the infamous cry of desperation, “OH NO!”. (I still laugh at that today) And it was also the place where I took a long walk with my Dad the night before I headed back to base to be deployed to a combat zone. The discussion we had that night I would not like to have again.

I think my fondest memory of the Chattahoochee Nature Center would be on the month of October, 1988. That was a pretty magical Halloween season for a number of reasons. One, I was finally dressed as something for Halloween my parents invested more that twenty dollars on. I was a knight with full body armor, shield and a sword and aside from the LA Gear sneakers, I was pretty convincing. Also, that year I was able to trick r treat alone without the parental supervision. Looking back, I guess it wasn’t that big of a deal because the neighborhood was barely a mile long.

Just about every weekday night during the month of October, the family did something Halloween-ish. Whether it was carve the jack-o-lantern or decorate the yard, as long as the homework was done, we celebrated. This is probably why I am thirty six with a Halloween Spook Show. Just a theory.

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One fateful night, Dad read in the paper the Chattahoochee Nature Center had a haunted attraction featuring the “Haunted Barn” which was run by the local Walton High School. In those days, I regarded high schoolers as grownups so right away I knew this attraction was going to be something of the serious note. My Dad, however, thought much the opposite. In fact, he thought that this was more of a fun and family attraction which possibly had nature conservatory lessons mixed in with a ‘Trick or Treat” motif. That was far from what we would be experiencing.

The Nature Center was a Saturday morning place where every morning Dad and I would drop off bottles and newspapers to the recycle center and feed ducks. That Thursday night the mood was much different. I can still remember pulling into the gravel parking lot with lit jack-0-lanterns spacing the lot. There was hardly anyone there and for good reason because it closed at 9:00 sharp and at 8:30 on a school night most kids had been through the attractions and on their way…to therapy. I had homework and Dad’s work ethic would never allow for fun before responsibility. Makes you wonder what happened to me?

We paid a “donation”, I think. There was no fee that my Dad can remember (we talk of this often every fall season). Just followed the path on the candle lit road which led to the barn. That barn, which was always a place of discovery and cuteness throughout my elementary days with field trips and summer camps, was transformed into “THE HOUSE OF SATAN”.

I shit you not, in Marietta Georgia, The Chattahoochee Nature Center named their barn, “THE HOUSE OF SATAN”.

I have yet to meet a peer or a long time friend who remembers this but I have family who can validate. And for whatever reason had no problem taking me into “The House of Satan”.

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I will say, looking back on this event, the high schoolers did it right. They recreated the famous Exorcist scene when the priests read rites which makes a rotting girl screech in horrific tones. The next room had a person rocking in the corner as a defiled and chopped up corpse lay on the floor. After that, a room where a wondering girl kept trying to pull me from my Dad to come with here into the heavens. Holy shit, I remember this with such detail I even remember her shoes. Her shoes!

Dad laughed. That is what I remember but for me, this was horrific. Every room led to more nightmares my brain was not ready to comprehend. That is until we met the stairs. The stairs went up to the loft of the barn and at the top stood a figure.

We didn’t know if we were supposed to proceed up and I remember looking at my Dad. He studied the figure long and hard then looked at me with a shrug. I grabbed his flannel shirt and we head up. But then the figure spun around and bolted down the stairs as if it too was being chased by something horrific.

We miracled ourselves straight through the back door and was chased by a hooded figure almost halfway to the car. I can still to this day remember screaming without care. When you scream without care it is something you never forget. As a child it is something to possibly look back on with a smile but never as an adult. It is animatistic in a way. My Dad stopped, laughing hysterically and so did the hooded kid who removed his said hood and thanked us but said that was where the attraction ended. He didn’t mean to scare us so badly and made an attempt to assuage my fear with a high-five.

I will never forget that night. Forever will Halloween be that barn with jack-o-lanterns lighting the way of a path and the orange illuminated barn filled with monsters and demons who scared me so badly the adrenalin put my feet to sleep. We dumb down so much in today’s society. I feel bad for the kids who will never get to experience something that made me a forever-fan of Halloween. That night forged a connection and even tough it scared me to down to the marrow and I loved it.

Thank God I didn’t have an easter experience. Those people are freaking weirdos.

 

 

Ode To The Fall Fresh Market

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Lordy, I love The Fresh Market! It’s a place where normal people like yours truly can feel a tad sophisticated buying six cucumber sodas and a bag of cinnamon bears. Its warm and cozy with classical music playing overhead, lulling people into paying twenty percent higher for everyday items. Some say it is a snobby market and others brush it off as a specialty food shop, but I say it is a necessary Saturday morning stop to energize the soul and dent my wallet, especially now that we are a foot into the Halloween season.

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This is the place where you plan the best autumn dinner of your life. Every vegetable imaginable is available and if yours is like mine, they come from local farms. That is a huge thing for me. I can’t put my finger on it, whether it is the track lighting or the fact most produce and items are in barrels but you kind of skip around aimlessly in this market. It is a scientific fact most amazing things come in a barrel. And for that, I am sure almost no one sticks to their lists. At least I don’t. I went in one time for three steaks and left with clams.

Hmm, maybe it is a gas leak that is the cause of such aimless shopping?

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The free coffee station is one of the best parts of The Fresh Market. Every season they have a select coffee to try with a full station to garnish your tiny cup. I was excited to see what Fall coffee they were pushing for this year but it never fails that some old bitty would be crowding the coffee sample table, adding cream and sugar with the speed and purpose of an aquarium-ed manatee. I hate her!

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Back to the wacky produce! Tell me, where can you get dwarf squash these days? Think real hard. I don’t know where but at The Fresh Market, this time of the year, you can. It is the main ingredient for my “Little Squash Big People Soup”. If you want the recipe just email me. It is just right for rainy and cold October days paired with the right beer. And yes, I do feel a little bad for that insensitive parody of the midget show. I meant little people show.

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SON OF A BITCH SHIT! I turn around for two seconds and the old guy jumps in and proceeds to go all Cialis on the decaf. Dude is quick in them Foot Joys!

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Here we come to what The Fresh Market does so well and that is the Halloween display. Every year is a bit different but damn if it isn’t always impressive! They always have a crazy candy display throughout the year but they really turn the knob to high in September. I love the fact an entire three-foot wicker basket is filled with one pound bags of gummy ghosts. If that were to fall off the roof and kill someone, their obituary would be clipped and permanently added to my fridge. It’s a place of honor.

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I know this picture is a tad bit blurry but I had been looked at with some suspicion while I roamed around taking pictures of small squashes and old people. This one was taken with great haste.

I love the decor. It is such a throwback to when I was a little kid. Ghosts and pumpkin-headed scarecrows are hung from the rafters with orange and black streamers dangling, carelessly blowing with the central air. It is simple yet perfectly nails why I love this holiday so much. There is no hint of modern pop or Disney shows. Just the same decorations we loved for years and years.

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Holy shit nuts and gum! I can’t catch a break this trip!

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I know this isn’t very Halloweenie but I can’t go to sleep without yelling from the hills about how amazing their organic nut selection is. Every kind of nut, berry, mix and seed is available for you to buy AND sample. I can’t tell you how many bags of trail mix I have, which are most likely stale, in my cupboard. There is no helping help myself and it is not beyond reason that I buy over one hundred dollars in almonds a month. Don’t get me started on cashews.

Also, I am not entirely sure about the sample part. If someone stops me I’ll just do my best impression of the homeless demon eating crickets in Hellraiser.

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We have success! Even though I like to browse the aisles for the best Thai peanut sauce and vegan friendly pasta while drinking  a free shot-cup of seasonal coffee, beggars can not be choosers. It is an added pleasure to an already fun fall grocery shopping experience.

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Of course it is pumpkin spice! How could it not be?

I am telling you folks, go to The Fresh Market if you want to immerse yourself with autumn goodness. The smells, specials, free samples and specialty food items are enough to make you go home and get drunk on spiked cider while hanging skeletons from trees. It is that great of an experience for this time of the year. Sure you will spend five dollars on a box of Triscuits but that’s why you save that for lame-o Kroger. You buy cornish hens and seven-year old sharp cheddar from The Fresh Market, ya silly!

 

 

FLTO: Caramel Apple Filled Twizzlers

“…the Angel of the Lord came down from Heaven, and they were so afraid! The angel said, “fear not for I bring you tidings of great joy. For this Fall season, Caramel Apple filled twists from Twizzlers are here to stick to your molars.”

Screen Shot 2014-09-04 at 4.37.43 PMI spotted these a few weeks ago in a Kmart. Yes, there was barely a squeak of Halloween in the one of three remaining Kmarts in the North Carolina state but my weird sixth sense indicated there was something to be found. Like when Vader smells old man Obi Wan’s Force-stink on the Death Star. I sensed something I had not sensed since…

There they were! It has been a few weeks so today I will bust these out and try them just for you. I don’t have high hopes for these because I have never been a huge caramel apple lover. When you say the words “caramel apple” I always imagine funny ways the elderly lose their dentures. Other than that, it is nothing more than fair food you want to throw out thirty seconds after you buy one. Maybe in Twizzler form they would be more appealing?

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I will be honest, the first presentation of these are pretty eye appealing. It looks like a Peruvian pan flute if the Peruvian band covered Agent Orange tunes. The green of the licorice is a Gremlin-blood green while the caramel looks almost too perfect. The contrast is strikingly nice. But what about the taste?

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Wow, that is exactly a caramel apple blend! I don’t know what else I was expecting but the caramel really over powers everything after a second or two. It’s not that the Twizzler’s apple flavoring sucks or anything, it’s really just me. I grew up on the precursor to adding “sour” before anything “apple” when it comes to candy. When an apple flavored anything comes along that doesn’t have a zing, I am left with an overall blasé feeling. Like I said, it’s not the fault of Twizzler, I just keep chasing that dragon.

This season Caramel Apple is a contender for what Pumpkin has become. It is showing up almost every where from seasonal ice cream, candy corn, and coffee, to now Twizzlers. I don’t hate it and to be honest, if it wants to make a run for it, I wish it well. Just stay out of my beer. Unless…cider beer? Hrm. I am going to have to think on that one.

So, on a scale of one to ten severed Sleep Hollow residents heads, I give Caramel Apple Filled Twizzlers a seven. The lackluster green apple kept it from achieving a grade that would be hung on a fridge.

Go get some. They come in Halloween fun sizes too!

October For A Sunday

Every so often I get a Sunday like this one and brother, these are so rare I just can’t waste them. It’s dark and rainy out with no sign of it stopping, so in my mind I am creating an “October Sunday”. What is an October Sunday, you ask? Well, it’s a day when you barricade yourself in a safe spot and pretend it’s October just so you can watch spooky flicks, drink cider and act on all the Fall fun, if just for a few hours. But be careful, long time lovers of the macabre season can get burned out if we do this too often so it’s best to take Bastian’s advice from The Never Ending Story when he was conserving his lunch, “No…not too much. We still have a long way to go.”

I think this October Sunday (not a U2 song) I will impart my tricks of the trade with you, incase you find yourself months away from Target selling skeletons and severed hands and want to dip your toe in some creepy activities. I am not saying I am doing everything that you would consider fun but this may be a loose guideline and perhaps an idea or two will help you muster your inner Satan. Or you can read this and say I am crazy. Either way.

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Summer is for grilling and Autumn is for crock potting. If you want to have an early October there is no better way than to slow cook pot roast. It quite honestly is my olfactory link to The Simpson Treehouse of Terror, Season 2. I can’t explain it and don’t even want to dissect why for fear it would somehow change my link of meat to a cartoon but if I really am all in for an October Sunday, there’s got to be a fiddle in the band. And by fiddle I mean pot roast. The band is a crock pot.

I bet there is a vegetarian way to do this too. I love you all and if meat isn’t on the menu, share with us what you would do! I am curious.

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Coffee is my fuel that drives creativity, mental prowess, jitters and my ability to say “Big Bertha bought Bill’s bakery before Bob’s birthday” two hundred times in a minute. Lucky for me on this dark and stormy Sunday, I reserved pumpkin spice from Archer’s Farm to add that need boost to trick my taste buds into believing I will be sipping this while watching AMC’s Fearfest. A little goes a long way and after today, I will not visit anything pumpkin for another three months. I just need a quick fix.

Oh, and if you are going to buy a Keurig coffee maker, don’t buy the VUE. No one sells the damn cups unless you are at Bed Bath and Beyond or ordering online. And if you know me, then you know I often don’t have coffee here. I just happened to be at Bed Bath and Beyond for a table-cloth. That’s my life now, ladies and gentlemen. I shop around for a table-cloth.

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While you wait EIGHT HOURS for the pot roast to cook you need a spooky snack. I decided the good people at Hormel had just the canvass for a little Jack-o-Pepperoni. Behind that is extra sharp cheddar. Anything duller is completely unacceptable unless you can find habanero cheddar. That is very much acceptable.

The vehicle for the meat and cheese can be anything. I recently ripped through a box of Triscuits, grossing out my dog, so I am forced to use pretzels. God, how I wish I had some Triscuits.

Also, you vegetarians, I am sorry there is another meat. Replace pepperoni with apple.

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Alright, so we have the crock pot rocking, sending crazy good smells throughout the house, the pumpkin coffee is brewed and horror snacks are made without severing a finger trying to carve faces in meat. Now we find that little hideaway that is safe from the rest of normal society. For me, it’s my office. The only place where a 36-year-old can safely bask in pictures of Skeletor and Michael Myers. Even though it’s still rainy and windy outside, there is too much light. I don’t have blackout shutters so I have to make do with the guest bed comforter. The October Sunday is much more effective if it’s dark. Very dark.

I recently washed this comforter myself and you can still see areas where the stuffing separated. I swear those are not stains. I swear. Also, if you hang this up using a swivel chair with wheels, godspeed.

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Of course, how can we have a creepy Sunday without a terribly good horror flick? It’s honestly impossible to achieve full spooky without a horror movie. Lucky for me, I have a few of these horror collections, Netfix, Hulu and Vudu. Out of all these, I am sure there is something that will suffice. I am thinking The Unholy. Bare boobs can add a few bonus points, if you are looking for extra credit.

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It’s coming together but we aren’t quite there. As you can see, my little space is ready for a great Sunday of escapism full of blogging, horror movie watching and internet surfing. The aroma candle is lit and my buddy, Cosmo the Great, is sawing logs on the bed behind me. We just have one little detail left to complete.

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Perfection! It’s 2:30 on a Sunday afternoon and I am safely removed from any hint that it is the beginning of June. For all I know, shut in my capsule of delusion, it’s October 17th, 2023. It’s a fine Sunday indeed. I think another “Beers with Movie Sauce” review is on the books for later this afternoon, but for now, I will bask in this great little lie I call October Sunday. Try it! You’ll like it. But remember, not too much. We still have a long way to go.

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Of course I can’t leave out Matt’s Dinosaur Dracula archives. You didn’t think I forgot that, did you? Come on, I’m a pro at this.

 

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