Saturday, July 3, 2010

Sweet Patooties

In reviewing the pictures I brought back from my recent trip to Montreal, I'm beginning to wonder if I was caught in some kind of crazy warpage of the space/time/reality continuum.  Not only were there chickens running amok (see post below) but the Potato Head clan seemed to be bent on setting up a diner to rival the popular Frites Alors  restaurants.

Of course every great enterprise needs a chief, or a chef.  Papa Patootie looks ready to step up to the plate.

Behind every great man is a little woman running the show.  Mama Patootie seems well prepared  to whip Papa Patootie into shape.

Even the teenage Patooties are happy to put in (or should that be "poutine") a hard day's night towards getting the kitchen up and running.

Peeking through the street door into their kitchen, though, I'm not too sure that I'm about try out their potato salad any time soon.

At least the guard dog was happy with his lot.  Bone appetit, sweet patootie!

Don't get me started on how the pork and poultry dishes were being prepared!

(that's me and my pal the Sagittarian dancing in the background of this video, by the way)

No wonder the chickens were chickening out (that's a segue into the following post)...


  1. Chicken (to potato): "You better watch your spuds tonight, there's a potato papparazzi out in the street stalking all the tater tots..."

    Potato (to chicken): "You better watch your step too, she was seen in the bookstore next door looking at poultry preparation recipes, chicken pot pies, chicken gumbo soup, things like that..."

    Chicken : "Yeah, well, if she comes near us, I'll get my rubber chicken pals out here to take care of her, them rubber chickens are the best bouncers in town !"

    One bouncer to the other : "Guess she left, no one here but us chickens..."

    (and someone, before she loses it entirely in a ruckus of flying mashed potatoes and a cloud of swirling chicken feathers should track down a copy of Al Stewart's fabulous song "The Candidate"... which doesn't seem to be on YouTube unfortunately... but at least read the lyrics...)

    Squaaaaawwwwkkkkk !!!

  2. haha, I'm sure you agreed that our family video's were never going to grace these pages...mind oyu, I don't want to chicken out. I'm glad you've put this mash-up here...

  3. Owen,
    "a thousand rubber chickens growing cold" -- I love it. How on earth did you remember that juicy little tidbit, that fine morsel of culinary descriptiveness? You're no dumb cluck, no sir; definitely not chicken feed in that old brain pan of yours.

    Really, you could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw the eggstreme and fowl behaviour going on in those kitchens after dark. And that M. Patate was a real masher! Honestly, he came after me like a spud missile. I managed to eggscape with my clothing in taters. Oh, the trials and tribulations of being a pataterazzi!

  4. Saj,
    Didn't we look fine in our salad days? I think BrOwen was skulking around the perimeter of the dance bowl, trying to convince some potato-shaped girl to "make spud, not war." He ended up writing a song about it, I think.

  5. Cluck cluck !

    Well, better a brainpan in my skull than a bedpan !

    And those potato shaped girls doing the mashed potato look alright to me ! You bet I was there convincing them to make spuds and move to Idaho with me... or to move to Idaho and then make spuds, whatever... Yep, just butter me up and pour on the sour cream !

    Shucks, I thought everyone knew the words to Al Stewart's excellent "The Candidate"; how could anyone ever forget the line about a thousand rubber chickens going cold ??? He's right up there with Bruce Cockburn as one of my great favorite musicians ever... songs like Roads to Moscow just blow me away...

    Now, gotta get back to finishing up a little post about a certain artist pal... and then go henna my hair...

    Squawkkkkkkkkk !

    Yolk yolk yolk...

  6. Anonymous04 July, 2010

    Surely able to take thoughts into another dimension - great serie indeed. Made me read the word "warpage" trice, as I couldn't decide whether it is a "war page" or an age of warp - well, maybe a few poatoes too many during midday at the mother-in-law kitchen...Please have a great start into the new week.

  7. BrOwen,
    What a yolker you are! Right up there with Henny Youngman (you're doubtlessly too young to know who he was--a good thing! Henna your hair! (I just got it.)

    Was it Frank Zappa who had a song about moving to Montanna to start a dental floss farm? Reminds me of your henkering to move to Idapotatoho.

    I sort of missed out on Al Stewart songs, other than Year of the Cat. There's a whole decade or two of music where I was off somewhere doing something else.

  8. Pouawwkk ! Gotta hen it to ya for your sheer velocity.

    That Mr Youngman, not so young, is atrocious, my god, a fish friar and a chip monk ??? That's worse than bad, that's awful... ok, I admit, I laughed at some of them...

    And a new post just went up about a certain purplish skull character... for your edification and amusement...

    PS the word verif here is :


    And I have no effing idea what that might mean...

  9. Robert,
    I'm sorry to hear you were a few potatoes short of a load for understanding "warpage" which only means that some warping has occurred. My husband, whose mother tongue is French, often has a fresh take on English words as well. A few too many potatoes at the mother-in-law's at lunch sounds like just the right amount to me!
    Now that you're over this little warp in your Sunday, I hope you have a wonderful warp-free week!

  10. Owen,
    What a trooper! You mean you actually listened to Henny Youngman?! Talk about warpage!

    I'll go take a gander at what's going on over at your coop...

  11. Owen,
    re: Road to Moscow--am listening now with headphones. I do remember this song.
    Yes, I hear what you mean: great stuff.

  12. I am visiting from Owen's blog. I especially like Mama and Papa Patootie. Papa's hair is same color as my hubby!

  13. TechnoBabe,
    Thanks for taking the time to wander over here. I hope you didn't get hit by any flying rubber chickens or slip in any potato salad.

  14. Many thanks with regard to making the effort in order to stroll more than right here. I really hope a person did not obtain strike through any kind of soaring rubberized hens or even slide in a spud greens.

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