Homer: What's wrong with you? What are you trying to hide from me.

Homer: What's wrong with you? What are you trying to hide from me...
[Homer opens the door and sniffs] What's that smell? Onions...
chili powder... cumin... juicy ground chuck? It's chili! Oh, my
god, I'm missing the chili cook-off! [whining, fidgeting] I'm
missing the cook-off, it's going on right now, and I'm missing
it.
Marge: All right, I *was* trying to keep it from you, but I had a good
reason. Every time you go to that cook-off you get drunk as a
poet on payday.
-- As drunk as James Dickey? "El Viaje Misterioso de
Nuestro Homer"