HM Is On A Roll

Let me eat cake. Or at least let me eat Hawaiian Rolls. They are as sweet as cake. Really. They might as well be saved for dessert. They are soft and squishy and OH SO SWEET. I don't know what they have to do with Hawaii. I doubt that they were served at the White House on Luau Night. But if they were, I want to make sure that the record shows I WAS NOT INVITED, and I did not fly in a chef from Hawaii to bake my rolls, but instead I bought my own Hawaiian Rolls at The Devil's Playground with my hard-earned money that comes from leaving no child behind.

Don't call NBC. I'm not preempting an NFL game at a crucial moment, but I must talk about Heidi. Not that spoiled ignorant chick on I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here, the one married to that freak Spencer who needs a knot jerked in his tail. No, I mean HEIDI, the movie. And the book. This roll talk makes me think of Heidi, because she saved her rolls from her playdate in town so she could give them to Peter's grandmother, who was blind with no teeth, and would truly appreciate the purloined pieces of Heidi's dinner that would no doubt be as hard as rocks with staleness by the time they got back up the mountain. That's always what I remember about Heidi. Maybe I had a starving childhood. That Ricola commercial on the mountainside with the dudes blowing those freakishly long horns also makes me think of Alps/Heidi/rolls.

Be careful what you call for. There's a restaurant in southern Missouri called the Throwed Roll Restaurant. At least that's what we call it. The real name is Lambert's. I think they have two locations. They've been featured on the Travel Channel and probably on the Food Network. I've only been there one time. Before I went there, I had a boss at the Unemployment Office who was all incensed and suing the Roll Throwers because they ruined her good blouse. Turns out that she held up her hands for a roll, and the guy threw it to her. Imagine that! You'd never expect THAT to happen when you go to the Throwed Roll Restaurant. Anyhoo... she was not an extremely coordinated woman, and thus missed catching the roll, and it bounced off her blouse in all its buttery goodness, and left a stain, and even though she complained to the manager, he did not want to pay to have her blouse cleaned and replaced if the stain remained. Go figure. I suppose once you set that precedent, you would be buying a buttload of blouses every day.

Note to Self: never take your eye off the roll.