Can a dessert give you an erection?

As it turns out...yes.

Allow me to back up a bit.  A few years ago, in looking for the perfect gift for a father who tends to fix his clothes with a glue-like product called "Shoo-Goo", I stumbled upon the Turducken.  The Turducken had gained a bit of fame over the years because John Madden--football announcer and spit collector--gave away turkey legs to players for a job well done during the annual Thanksgiving day football game (Bears/Packers/Vikings/Cowboys/Bucs/Saints/Raiders/Patriots/Steelers/Redskins/Chargers/Seahawks 45 - Lions 3).  The CBS production staff annually put together an avian-monstrosity called the "Turducken" that was a Frankenstein-type bird:  a turkey combined with a chicken combined with a duck.

A bird is not supposed to have this many legs

Turns out, the tradition goes back much, much further than John Madden:  “In his 1807 Almanach des Gourmands, gastronomist Grimod de La Reyniere presents his rôti sans pareil (‘roast without equal’)—a bustard stuffed with a turkey, a goose, a pheasant, a chicken, a duck, a guinea fowl, a teal, a woodcock, a partridge, a plover, a lapwing, a quail, a thrush, a lark, an ortolan bunting and a garden warbler—although he states that, since similar roasts were produced by ancient Romans, the rôti sans pareil was not entirely novel.  The final bird is very small but large enough to hold just an olive.”

Thanks Wikipedia!

Today, a few companies produce the Turducken around Thanksgiving, although it's not nearly as fancy-schmancy as the one Grimod conjured.  These days, the thing is pretty much just a de-boned chicken stuffed into a de-boned duck stuffed into a de-boned turkey, stuffed with a sausage and cornbread stuffing.  I say it like that in itself is not awesome. 

Needless to say, this gift was the highlight of my Dad's Christmas.  Other than spending time with his family, of course (just kidding!  The bird was totally the highlight).

Anyhoo, when writing my boring post about Thanksgiving 2011, I was going to include a picture and a history of the Turducken we devoured--the Turducken having now become a family tradition--but I was just too lazy to do so.  Can you blame me?  I still had a crap-load of Turducken in me.  But in researching the Turducken, I came across a dessert so awesome, so ungodly...I...I just don't have the words.  

Seriously, check this out.  I present to you, my brave readership of nine, with the "Turducken of Desserts"...the "Cherpumple":

 

So...horny... 

Dear god.  That thing is amazing.  It's a cherry pie baked into a frosted, white cake, placed on top of an apple pie baked into a yellow cake, atop a pumpkin pie baked into a spice cake.  Click on the picture for a larger, more fantastical image.  

Creator Charles Phoenix says, "It both intrigues and horrifies people." 

Lisa, my work neighbor and resident badass chef (I want her to write a cookbook called "EAT THIS!" that features a picture of her on the cover scowling in a chefs hat, holding a mixing bowl and giving the reader the finger), thinks she can make one of these.  She is, however, thinking that it should only be two layers.  Heresy!

I dunno.  I want one.  Although, to be fair, I'm pretty sure we all now have diabetes merely from looking at the picture. 

Stupid Hospitals

I had a bad weekend, but not nearly as bad as a few people I know and love.

You see, both of my parents went to the hospital this weekend.  Different hospitals.  For 3 night stays.  Ugh.

It all started with my Mother turning orange.  For those not in the know, my Mother was diagnosed with 4th stage colon cancer back in October of 2005.  Wednesday, October 26th to be exact.  Why do I remember that date?  Because when all of my other friends were celebrating the Chicago White Sox closing out the Houston Astros in the 2005 World Series--probably with beer, champagne and hookers--I was shell-shocked with my family over this devastating development.  

That's just like my Mom...always looking to overshadow the 2005 World Series Champion Chicago White Sox with her cancer.

Anyhoo...where was I?  Ah, yes.  My Mom turned orange.  Like this:

 Seriously. 

It would appear that a growing tumor that her doctors have been keeping an eye on eventually pushed up into her liver and caused her liver to, as her doctors (probably) put it, "go all batshit wonky".  The words "draining" and "bile" were, in fact, thrown around far too frequently for my comfort.  She had surgery on Saturday and they put a stint into her liver causing it to function like it is supposed to. 

Which brings me to my Dad.  You're going to need to brace yourself for this story, kiddos.

Before this weekend, by favorite Don Jacklich story went like this: For those of you that have never met my Dad, he's not, um, concerned with his personal appearance.  Here is a pretty good representation of the way he dresses, 75% of the time:

I draw special attention to his work pants that have not been washed since the Carter administration.  Those are not camouflage pants, in case you were curious; that is years of paint, glue, concrete, spackle, gunk, goo, inflammables, snot and oil.  He is not a fashionista.

My Dad has never been one to shower.  Before you think I'm piling it on, he does bathe.  But he exclusively takes baths and never, ever showers.  A few months ago, he couldn't find any soap for his bath; this, of course, is a problem if one wants to wash off 2 days worth of concrete.  What is a man to do without soap?

Never fear, my Dad has always been great at improvising.  Take, for example, the time he attempted to cauterize a wound with Shoe Goo instead of a bandage.

 Seriously. 

Hunting around his house in search for soap, he came across what he felt was the next best thing:  Tide Detergent.  The powdered kind. 

 

Again.  Seriously. 

Powdered Tide!  Powdered Tide that he still uses for his baths to this day, by the way.

I love this guy.

Which brings me back to the new "Best-Don-Jacklich-Story".   My Father loves my Mother terribly.  He is so adorably devoted to his wife, it brings a tear to even the most cynical of eyes (ie: mine).  He dropped my Mother off at Northwestern Medical downtown, kissed her goodbye and made his way to his car.

As he was walking, he felt a tingling in his left arm.  He was carrying a heavy briefcase in his left hand so he swapped the case over to his right.  As he continued to walk to the car, he couldn't help but notice that the tingling continued, escalated to pain and he found himself with a shortness of breath.  This man needed medical attention.

Let's take a break for a poll.  What do you think Don Jacklich did?  Did he:

A)  Turn around and head back to Prentice Womens Hospital to speak to my Mother's doctor?
B)  Walk over to the Northwestern's ER and check himself in?
C)  Get into his car, make his way over to a congested-with-construction I-290, leave Chicago, drive 35 miles back to Lisle, park his car and call 911?

Anyone who selected choice "C" gets a cookie.  To recap:  My Father--very clearly having a heart-attack and with a history of heart trouble--left one of the world's best and most renown hospitals and drove home 35 miles so he could dial 911 to get a ride to another hospital. 

Jesus-hopping-Christ.

He's ok.  Turns out, he needed a stint replaced in his heart from his triple by-pass in 1997.  The day after his surgery he was his normal obnoxious self and two days later he was drinking wine and eating Bubba Burgers with us.  Not sure that is what is supposed to happen to a guy who just had a heart attack but more power to him.

Krishni, who is much smarter than me about such things, said my Mother's condition obviously is the greater long-term concern but my Father was much closer to death this weekend than Sheila.  What a dumbass.  But now that we know he's going to be fine, you can't help shake your head and laugh at a story like that.  

Incidentally, Sheila is ok as well.  She's eating again and we're looking to put some weight back on her.  She was in good spirits and overjoyed that 4/5ths of her children came back in town to visit her.  We all had a terrifying-yet-ultimately-fun weekend together.  And Krishni has been great through it all.  I do love that woman.

For those looking to help "Operation Sheila Weight Gain", she likes pie.  For those looking to help me cope with all of this, I like booze.

Specifically, Ron De Jeremy