Note to self: Less PBS, More Animal Planet

My best friend Amy is having some major doggie drama. We had a long talk about it last night. Having been married to Ted for less than a year it seems her newly blended family situation is in crisis mode.

Here is a list of all the critters currently living under her roof:

1. Her husband Ted

2. Her tween age daughter LBL

3. Ted's younger teen age son Sporto

4. Ted's older teen age son Emo

5. Ted's jumping, yapping 2 year old dog Chloe

6. Amy's jumping, yapping and curmudgeonly dog Rita, who is older than dirt

7. LBL's noisy, stinky guinea pig Sprinkles

8. Amy & LBL's cat Macy

9. Amy & LBL's cat Sebastian

10. Ted's 8 year old asshole Schnauzer named Max.

11. Let's not forget Amy, who is also noisy, stinky and yappy.

Max is causing monstrous amounts of trouble. He bites. He pees everywhere. Mainly the problem is He Bites.

I won't get into the details, but I'm sure you can imagine that their house is like an upside down zoo.

Anyhoo... after talking to Amy about her animal troubles and teen angst I talked to my friend Steph on the phone and set about recounting my entire conversation with Amy to her.

Gossip is such an ugly word. I prefer to think of it as a graphic and meaningful exchange of personal information about people other than myself.

Whatever you call it, when I was finished telling Steph all about the demon menace in Amy's household taking the earthy shape of a grouchy Schnauzer, Steph made the following insight:

"Sounds like they need to give Max the Caesar treatment."

I thought to myself, Well that seems kind of harsh.

Not understanding why Steph would immediately choose to resort to such violence and imagining poor old Max being stabbed repeatedly in the back by the entire family with a set of Chicago Cutlery steak knives.

Steph is a dog lover so I shook off my murderous canine mini drama and asked for some clarification.

Turns out Caesar is a reference to the canine behavior specialist who calls himself The Dog Whisperer. I've actually heard of this program, but had no idea that the guy's name is Caesar.

What a relief.

BTW - MDH and I have finalized plans to go on a long weekend, double date with Amy and Ted in June to Philadelphia.

I'm brimming over with excitement over this scheme.

Amy and I would never have attempted anything like this when she was married to Assface. I LOVE her husband Ted for many reasons, but not the least of which is that he gets along so great with MDH. It's like the perfect best friends scenerio when your choice of mate gets along with her choice of mate. Presto Pefecto.

Things Are Not Always As They Seem

Case in point, tonight's dinner.

Contrary to what you may believe from looking into the pot, I did not pull the rags off the end of a dirty mop and marinade them in dirty dishwater.

This morning I got up at the crack of my ass and tossed a pork tenderloin into the crock pot and poured some vinegar and sauteed onions and herbs on it and let it cook all day on low while I was at work.

It looks like a dirty mop, but tastes so good you'll want to smack your mama. Twice. Not really, leave your mama alone. She's totally innocent in this endeavor and if your mama is anything like my mama she never cooked anything that didn't come out of a cardboard box with directions that said "Just add water".

Anyhoo, my slow cooked pulled pork tenderloin is a thing of beauty. Made even more delectable due to the fact that in light of recent memory problems I forgot that I had cooked it until I walked in the back door after work tonight and got a snortful of the amazing aroma.

I'm getting to like this other me, the one who remembers to do all of this cool stuff. She's amazing.

Other things that aren't as they seem:


My kitchen chairs are lovely, but really uncomfortable. We didn't sit on them before we bought them. This was a big mistake. We should have brought a bucket of chicken and sat down on them for awhile before we made this purchase.

Gotta get some seat cushions.

Also the notepad is not what it seems. You'd think I'd be all organized and shit because I write stuff down all the time. I'm not.

This cool subway poster that MDH pulled down from the wall of the London Underground, glue and multiple layers of other posters and all is also a deadly weapon.



He mounted it on this piece of corrugated sheet metal, but did not do anything to the edges. They are like razors and every time I move this thing I cut the palms of my hands.

Dammit.




My face is not as it seems. Because I am a master make up artist with concealer you can hardly tell that I have a rash around my mouth and chin in the shape of a goatee. I hope it is not because of all the strawberries I've been eating.

Unfortunately I can do nothing to conceal my crazy eyes.


In other news:

1. I got a raise last week. Not enough of a raise that I can actually tell a difference in my paycheck, but a raise none the less. Still my paycheck seems the same.

2. I have added Jerry Fondue to my list. Welcome Jerry. You are in good company. Jerry Fondue seems kinda cheesy, but he's actually a nice guy.

3. How could I forget? It seems that my father accidentally backed over my mother in their driveway with his SUV. That is not how she describes it but that is pretty much what happened. She said he bumped her while she was putting some things in the hatchback. He "bumped" her hard enough that she fell down and hit her head.

She also says that she is "just fine", but then went on to describe a laceration that extends the entire length of her left arm and "a goose egg" on her "noggin". Whatever injuries she suffered were apparently not serious enough to keep them from meeting friends at their country club for happy hour where she described soaking up the blood on her arm with cocktail napkins. It seems the bartender at the club is also an EMT and helped clean her wounds with antiseptic (the kind you can't drink).

In Response to Your Comment

Dear Sparsely Kate,

In response to your comment on last night's blog post, "when you can remember, please explain why you and the copier are no longer friends", I have decided to oblige you with a full length blog post answer.

You see I share a copier/printer with about 60 other people split among 4 departments on my floor. Of course there are other printers to use, but this particular printer is not only the one closest to my cubicle it is also the only color printer worth a damn, probably in the the whole building, or at least my section of it. It also happens to be the one the IT department designated as my default printer.

Unfortunately one of the departments that I share this printer with is the Art Department. Invariably everything the Art Department needs to print is on extra thick, extra long paper and requires a great deal of time to process. Invariably everything the Art Department needs to print clogs up the normal functioning of the printer, causes horrific, suicide inducing paper jams and rude error messages that I tend to take personally.

My problems getting along with the printer usually stem from this scenerio:

Some devil spawn Art Department person has chosen to print an exact HD replica of the Sistine Chapel on 72 x 36 card stock and caused the printer to not only jam up tighter than Tom Jones jumpsuit, so that smoke is coming out of the exit tray, but also caused red lights to blink all over the thing like a fucking ambulance. Somehow this person is magically unavailable to come and clean up the mess they have made of the printer.

This always seems to happen when I have "hot" items that need attention within the next hour and I have just sent about 30 pages of meticulously chosen text to the printer, and causes me to have this conversation with the printer/copier:

Printer/copier: Remove jam area 7, 5, 10, 19, 36 and 79

Me: What is that? Your lottery numbers?

Printer/copier: Everyone's a comedian. Now, as I was saying, Remove jam area 7, 5, 10, 19, 36 and 79.

I spend the next 20 minutes opening every conceivable crevice of the printer and removing paper jams from all listed areas.

I am now sweating, but fully satisfied that I have successfully removed all traces of card stock. I slam everything shut.

Me: How ya like me now?

Printer/copier - Nice try. Remove jam area 7, 10, 36, 62.

Me: What? 62? That wasn't on the original list how can I have created a paper jam by removing paper jams you bitch?

I spend the next 20 minutes looking for paper jams, trying to figure out where this so called "area 62" is and removing burnt and crinkled card stock. I'm somewhat satisfied and slam the printer shut, yada, yada, yada.

Me: Take that.

Printer/copier: Remove paper jam area π

Me: I don't have to take this. I'm going to the big Minolta in R & D.


I understand that the printer isn't bad and I suppose my beef is really with the Art Department asshole printer hogs who could probably due with having their own color printer designed specifically to be used for giant HD exact renderings of the Sistine Chapel on enormous flats of card stock. Oh, wait - THEY HAVE ONE OF THOSE ALREADY.

Anyhoo... that's my story.

Kindest Regards & Best Wishes,
The Lady

I Forgot That Armed Robbery Is Against the Law

Here is a strainer full of freshly rinsed strawberries. Possibly the prettiest and most tasty strawberries in all the land. I went to the store tonight after work for romaine lettuce and coffee creamer and nearly burst into tears of joy at the sight of these berries on display.

Two for $5.

Then when I got home I opened the fruit bin of my fridge to put them away and realized that two nights ago I'd had the same tearful strawberry orgasm at another grocery store. Also 2 for $5.

So now I've got a buttload of strawberries.

I've been forgetting a lot of stuff lately. The other day I walked out the door for work and left my beautiful freshly poured travel mug full of coffee on the kitchen counter. I almost turned around and drove back to get it.

I forgot to buy ant traps and they were on the shopping list. I'm pretty sure I haven't forgotten how to read. Maybe I'm just in deep denial about the fact that our gorgeous and not just a little expensive leather love seat may be infested with ants. OK I'm exaggerating, we each separately had one little tiny ant crawling on us while we were watching TV the other night, but I've been wiggly ever since.

MDH seems to think that ant traps will do the trick, but I would like to take a more aggressive approach and cover the love seat in plastic sheeting and toss a grenade up under there. Grenades and plastic sheeting were not on my shopping list, but it doesn't matter I've gone senile and would have forgotten them anyway.

I forgot that last week I talked to Uncle Dan, who has been ailing all winter, and promised that we would come visit him and Aunt P this weekend. Damn. You cannot break promises to visit elderly aunts and uncles. They live for that shit. Maybe since they are in their 80's they will totally understand if we don't show up and I say that we forgot.

I was going to write about some other stuff, but I forgot. Since I'm not able to do any blogging at all during the work day I sometimes send myself emails to remind myself of post ideas and inspiration that I have throughout the day. Then I read them later and have no idea what the hell I was trying to tell myself. It's like I'm a character on Dr. Who getting mysterious messages from myself from another realm.

Today's message: "The copier and I are no longer on speaking terms"

I'm not sure how I planned to craft an entire post from this tidbit. Besides the copier and I have since made up and I'd prefer to put the incident behind us rather than dwell on it.

Meanwhile my life this week has been full of mostly pleasant surprises:

- An early Gevalia coffee shipment arrived this week. I had forgotten that I had increased the delivery frequency last month.

- I called to make an appointment for a haircut, thinking that I'd never be able to get in only to be told that I already had an appointment scheduled for next Thursday.

- I found two brand new spring shirts in my closet with the tags still on that I bought this past January on the clearance rack at Macy's.

It's like whattaya call it, that holiday that happens in the winter where you get presents. Yeah. It's like Christmas every day, or whatever.

Mitts Off Ladies, He's Mine

MDH shocked the shit out of me this morning by asking to do a guest post on my blog. The poor lamb tossed and turned all night after watching endless hours of Pennsylvania Primary news coverage.

Please address your comments to MDH as the views and opinions expressed in this blog post are not necessarily those of The Lady Who Doesn't Lunch.

And now... here's my baby:

Subject: This I believe: govt of the peeps, by the peeps, for the peeps aka the American Experiment teeters on failure

PA like OH, MI and FL is where the general election is won or lost.

So what does it mean that 10% of the PA voters are not planning to vote & 15% will vote for the old guy and of those 15%, 90% of them say they voted for Hillary Clinton? Those are the GOP supporters meddling with the Dem election....in other words, given that single digits would have been bad for Hillary Clinton's fundraising the Rush factor made all the difference between a win that results in Hillary Clinton being bankrupt and gaining a miniscule number of delegates and not being able to push more super delegates into her camp to a convincing win that will net her a miniscule number of delegates, delay decisions by some super delegates, & allow her to raise money to continue....just like in Pittsburgh where the chief financial backer of the actual vast right wing conspiracy against Bill endorsed Hillary Clinton, look for the GOP, broke though it is, to have amazing amounts of cash to spend in NC & in on race baiting TV to continue using Hillary Clinton to destroy the Dem party.....and if she prevails, and by no means does the rookie have this thing as locked up just because he has won it by the actual stupid rules of the Dem party, the GOP will pivot all of those resources to re-demonize Hillary Clinton & to convince Barak Obama's voters they got screwed. Add in the confusion voters currently have between McCain 2000 who crushed GOP cash register lobbying and McCain 2008 who welcomes an endorsement from a group dedicated to ending life on the planet....for jesus, the navy man might, with a smart vp choice and despite giving increasingly incoherent, frankly sad to see, interviews each day, yet rise to a higher rank then his daddy. Don't get me wrong....I have always been in favor of seeing an actual Vietnam War vet in the White House, but I had the impression the one I would get would actually vote for veteran's benefits for our current multiple felony committing, gang banging, rapists of fellow service people, but, at least not gay and fully supportive of cross national military Christian groups, heros. BTW - next week I will be back in DFW airport which usually means I'll have a good look at several hundred of our best fellow Americans going or coming from the war zone. Please do anything you can to support these poor bastards as they are bearing the absolute heaviest burden resulting from god's own party's stupidity and the Dem's (except Paul Wellstone – rip), 2002 missing spine.

Either way the future doesn't make me gotta wear shades...... the long march of America from a nation mostly inhabited by christians to a christian nation (hang in there Turkey) continues with more & more tax dollars going directly to religious institutions in exchange for votes/power & end times rhetoric becoming an acceptable political policy........our almost inevitable looming financial collapse from debt is moving ever closer as the mortgage write downs worldwide, better regulatory institutions outside of the US, and spiraling worldwide inflation dramatically reduce the risk of getting out of the dollar based economy............ our elected federal officials' continue their inability to stop even the most insane unsupportable US govt giveaways, like social security for millionaire retirees including the old guy & his beer barroness and direct subsidies for 'farmers' like the wolf family in Columbus or the Van Andel family in Grand Rapids........and the prison population, more and more managed for profit or for religious conversion, keeps climbing faster then a Manny ball hit to left.

And then there's infrastructure, the one sure way govt can help an economy (there used to be 2....you had war which used to be good for the economy, however, the GOP has figured out how to profit from outsourcing the war to sub-contractors....many of whom use non American labor) but we live in a country basically still operating new deal public works projects, where bridges fall into rivers, airlines rig their safety records with help from fed regulators, entire streets disappear into a cloud of steam or morph, as in Michigan, into one giant pothole.

Think I am as crazy as senator's McCain's or Obama's more of the same, almost universal, you would only buy that crappy policy if you had a better tax break health care plans? Those that have the luxury of traveling or living outside the US can judge with their own eyes....fall ill on a street in Taiwan and see a system where your health records are instantly available in every office of every provider in the country, or go to Japan where they laugh at our cell phones, or Europe where they laugh at our public transportation system, or the Netherlands where they laugh at us for our 'get tough' policies to jam prisons with non violent drug users, and or to brazil (buy CZZ) and France (if atomic energy is good enough for bob it is good enough for me) where they laugh at our energy policies that enrich our enemies/friends. In India and Ireland people are emigrating home from the US for a better quality of life for their children and country after country can now literally look down on us as their people get taller and we get wider.

But why did yesterday push me over the edge to declare that the end was nigh....well it wasn't the election, nor the horrific stoppage time own goal right smack in the middle of you'll never walk alone...it was this: from the Harvard med school...... Over these four decades, the researchers found that the overall US life expectancy increased from 67 to 74 years of age for men and from 74 to 80 years for women. Between 1961 and 1983 the death rate fell in both men and women, largely due to reductions in deaths from cardiovascular disease (heart disease and stroke). During this same period, 1961–1983, the differences in death rates among/across different counties fell. However, beginning in the early 1980s the differences in death rates among/across different counties began to increase. The worst-off counties no longer experienced a fall in death rates, and in a substantial number of counties, mortality actually increased, especially for women, a shift that the researchers call “the reversal of fortunes.” This stagnation in the worst-off counties was primarily caused by a slowdown or halt in the reduction of deaths from cardiovascular disease coupled with a moderate rise in a number of other diseases, such as lung cancer, chronic lung disease, and diabetes, in both men and women, and a rise in HIV/AIDS and homicide in men. The researchers' key finding, therefore, was that the differences in life expectancy across different counties initially narrowed and then widened. http://medicine.plosjournals.org/perlserv/?request=get-document&doi=10.1371/journal.pmed.0050066&ct=1

The hollowing out of America, akin to the 70s but with a hell of a lot more places for people to put their money and faith outside of the US, is nearly complete. (as general franks and beans once said "a terrorist, massive, casualty-producing event [will occur] somewhere in the Western world – it may be in the United States of America – that causes our population to question our own Constitution and to begin to militarize our country in order to avoid a repeat of another mass, casualty-producing event.") liberty's lamp could be doused once and for all, just like the right of habius corpus, by a bi-partisan movement of the sheeple.

But beyond buying that villa in Costa Rica and getting a few more weapons for this year's mandatory office secret Santa I want you to know that I remain filled with hope that once the drunkenness wears off we can turn the tanker away from the rocks! Look at 2006's punishment of the GOP. Look at the GOP voters attempting to punish themselves with McCain. Look at the Dems possibly selecting an actual, real American family to occupy that nice house in Washington City. America's cities, forced into tolerance and good management by their human density, refuse to go quietly into the night. US States are getting more active in demanding the feds stop the madness and more people then ever outside the US, despite our foreign policy screw ups in an attempt to help them to freedom or maintain corporate profit margins, are living with liberty, democracy and the rule of law.....so while our time as Winthrop's shining city on the hill is clearly waning & the Kinks reprise catch me now I'm falling, here's to Brazil, India, & Europe. If we in the states can delay our use of nukes to bring about the second coming for just a few more decades I am confident that Adam Smith and the new mega democracies will bring a reformed China and maybe even old/new Russia to freedom's blessings. As a man once said in the face of certain destruction "there is always hope"

My very best vibes to you all!

PS - anyone who didn't see the HBO John Adam's, I highly recommend you not only see it but try to read the book about my fellow Scorpio before watching and it will be even more rewarding/fabulous.

Mini Meme

I'm going to plant a couple of air kisses on Mr. Radloff for tagging me for a meme! He did it a few days ago, but I've been a little busy and then I had an attitude problem and now that that is all taken care of I'm free to meme.

1) Write your own six word memoir
2) Post it on your blog; include a visual illustration if you’d like
3) Link to the person that tagged you in your post, and to the original post if possible
4) Tag at least five more blogs with links
5) Leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

When you add together how much I love to go on and on about myself and the somewhat flowery nature of my writing style this meme is is going to be a little challenging for me.

In order to pare things down appropriately I've decided that my 6 word memoir will only cover up to age 4.

It's OK because a lot happened.

1. Abandoned - at 6 months old left by my biological mother on my dad's doorstep with a paper grocery sack filled with diapers and baby clothes.

2. Bounced - my dad couldn't take care of me either so I lived with a bunch of different relatives until he could get settled.

3. Dragged - when my dad wasn't working he wanted to spend time with me so took me with him everywhere he went, mainly to bars and poker games and never to a lecture. I was like a tiny drinkin' buddy. (See picture above)

4. Adopted - my dad and I were a package deal so when he met my mom she legally adopted me. It's probably the best thing that could have happened for both me and my dad. My mom is pretty awesome.

5. Meltdown - I had a hard time adjusting to our new "normal" life style and made life very difficult for my mom.

6. Sister - Things calmed down after my sister was born and we were like a real family.

I'm tagging Gwen, Linka, Kate, WendyB and Leonesse

Kennel That Bitch - A Rant by Lady

Dear Person Who Chose To Bring an Infant to Last Night's Lecture Featuring Michael Chabon,

What kind of economy sized asshole brings a baby to hear a lecture given by a Pulitzer Prize winning author? Did you think that other people were going to bring their babies? Obviously everyone else had more sense and manners because in case you didn't notice - out of all of the 600 people (I'm totally guessing here) at the lecture you were the ONLY ONE to bring a baby.

I'd like to thank you for being the one turd in the punchbowl of an otherwise wonderful evening. You see, Michael Chabon is one of my favorite authors. I have admired his work for many years now and last night was my first and who knows, perhaps the only time in my life that I might be able to hear him speak and as terrific as it was, the memory of it will be forever littered with the sounds of your baby's fussing and mewling echoing throughout the auditorium every five minutes. So thanks for that.

For future reference, it has been my experience that when you have an infant with you in a public space where people are trying to enjoy some form of entertainment that they HAVE PAID THE EXACT SAME AMOUNT OF MONEY AS YOU it is polite and thoughtful to remove yourself and your noisy infant from the premises when said infant starts to cry and fuss or generally create a distraction from the entertainment WE HAVE ALL PAID FOR.

I would think this should be especially true and quite obvious in the case of bringing an infant to LIVE entertainment*, where a person is speaking or performing LIVE as these are moments that nobody will be able to rewind and get back.

Even if we could rewind them and get those moments back all we would be able to hear is your goddamn baby crying.

Leave the kid at home next time dickhead.

Now that this is off my chest you'll excuse me while I scamper off to go beat up some nuns and run over house pets with my car.

Best Wishes & Kindest Regards,

The Lady Who Doesn't Lunch**

*Fuck off. Lectures can be very entertaining.

**I'm being formal here and using my full name.

No Means No - Don't Mess With the Lady

I knew it was bound to be an odd day when I glanced in my rear view mirror this morning on my way to work and noticed that Kid Rock was in the car behind me.

The sun was in my eyes and glaring on the windshield of the car, but it looked like Kid Rock wearing a straw cowboy hat and I figured why the fuck not?

Why wouldn't Kid Rock be behind me in traffic today? He's from Michigan, I live in Michigan, maybe he's here visiting Ted Nugent and decided to go out for bagels.

Who can guess what Kid Rock might be up to?

As for the vehicle... again, why not? Why wouldn't Kid Rock drive a late 90's beige Honda Accord? Stranger things have happened.

Did I mention that I hadn't had my coffee yet?

Either way, Kid Rock or not, I kept staring back there because even if this person was not Kid Rock they were on their phone and weaving all over the road and talking really fast and with their mouth open really wide as if they were yelling, like an auctioneer at a lawn mower race. It was weird looking.

Of course the longer I stared the more irritated I was getting at this dimwit behind me talking so animatedly on their cell phone, oblivious to the fact that they are veering all over the place and endangering everyone. Bastard.

When we came to a section of road that curves slightly and is bordered by a patch of trees the glare was lifted long enough for me to see that of course it wasn't Kid Rock but a woman with the worst hair do I have seen in public in a long time. It was big and blond and in bad need of a hot oil treatment.

If strangers in traffic mistake your hair for a straw cowboy hat and think you look like Kid Rock it is time to find a new stylist.

Like I was saying, it was a weird day because of the whole Kid Rock thing - it's not really something I can confide in my coworkers about so I must rely upon you guys here reading my blog to understand the situation.

Then later this afternoon I went to my first solo project meeting and had a slight altercation. It's a new project and a new team and my boss chose me to represent our department so I was honored.

I walked into the room, introduced myself to everyone, explained who I was and what my role was on the team. It was good. I was charming. I was confident. I knew my shit.

When it was my turn to talk about my department's role in the project I explained how things were done and what steps needed to be completed by the other departments before I could begin my piece and this guy says, "Can't you bypass all that stuff?"

to which I replied, "Um... No."

My tone implied that I have no idea why he would even think such a thing, because I had no idea why he would think such a thing. We have rules, a format and a process that in my short time with the company has been drilled into my head. There are no shortcuts.

Then he said, "Yes. You can." All sly, like he had a secret or like if he were persistent enough he would bend my will.

So I said, "I really don't understand why you would think that because I've never heard of it. When the meeting here is over I will check with Hey Mr. DJ and let you know what he says, but I'm going to say it's a big NO until then and you should plan your piece without a shortcut."

He didn't say anything else, but he wrote some stuff down on his notepad and continued with his little sly smile. What an ass.

Turns out I was right (obviously) and the guy is a big giant ass and tries that trick with everyone. Unfortunately someone in my department has done this little shortcut for him before and even though several memos have gone out and it has been explained to everyone that we don't do that shortcut anymore, he still goes for it.

Anyhoo... it was weird and I'm probably just lucky that this was the first time that someone at work has treated me like less than a superstar.

I'd like to finish up this post by giving a little shout out to whoever manages the deli and prepared foods department at Overpricy's, the supermarket in the glitzy neighborhood near my house. You rock whoever you are!

This person had the brilliant idea to add pork loins to the racks of the chicken rotisserie, seasoned the same as the chickens. It cost the same as if I'd bought an uncooked pork loin, not cheap but damn tasty.

Rotisserie Pig = Good.

I could kiss this person full on the mouth. Maybe not.

EAT!

I had the girls over this morning for brunch and it was marvelous. I love to feed the people I love. It's exhilarating for me in probably the same way that I imagine bungee jumping is for (insane idiots who don't value life) other people.

I made a beautiful spinach and ham (what else - I have a metric ton of it left over from last week) quiche, fresh pineapple and strawberries, bagels with cream cheese, lox, capers and the works. Oh and blueberry muffins I made yesterday. Yum! I had some prosecco chilling but nobody wanted a cocktail this morning. Ah well - more for me.

After brunch we all went out to see Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day and that too was marvelous and I demand you all go see it this instant!

Ahem. Excuse me.

Sorry. I'm not normally so bossy, but I've had about eleven cups of coffee and the movie is really very good. Even MDH loved it.

Oh, I nearly forgot... the title of the post is the title of my new iPod playlist that I made especially for the brunch feast. It's also the name of the imaginary restaurant that my lovely friend Steph and I sometimes fantasize about running together. We'll serve only the things we feel like cooking so the fantasy restaurant patrons will just get what they get and they'll like it or get the hell out.

The best part is that our imaginary restaurant is only open for lunch so we can get the hell out and not feel like we're chained to the imaginary kitchen all day. Then we can go imaginary shoe shopping I suppose.

Anyhoo... all the songs in this playlist having something to do with food. I'm feeling generous (and all hopped up on caffeine and sugar) so I'm going to upload a few of the song selections to my blog for you to listen to (and download) as you like.

Enjoy!

Oh and... HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAN! Not quite my oldest friend, but certainly one of my dearest.



Allrighty... it seems that FileNanny, the site that I normally upload my shared music to is down with no explanation whatsoever ... thanks for that FileNanny. There won't be any clickability here after all. Perhaps another time. Meanwhile here are the artists and titles in my playlist and it is up to you to figure out what they sound like if you are so inclined:

Fruit Boots by Red Prysock

Banana Puddin' by Southern Culture on the Skids

Caviar & Chitlin's by Atomic Fireballs

Quiche Lorraine by The B52's

I'm Puttin All My Eggs In One Basket by Whit Smith

Chocolate Cake by Crowded House

What's Cookin' by Deke Dickerson

Ice Water by Ray Condo

Coffee & TV by Blur

Super Bon Bon by Soul Coughing

Son, You Got a Panty On Yer Head...

Recently I heard this woman on NPR talking about an essay she wrote for the New York Times called "It's Not You, It's Your Books", the gist of which is that people have literary deal breakers in their relationships.

Being a native of Central Ohio I never really had a literary deal breaker in as much as I couldn't tolerate the company of someone who loved Ayn Rand or hated Dostoevsky, it was more like I was thrilled if the dude had a job, didn't have a mullet and could read at all, period. It was an extra super-duper double coupon bonus (and I didn't care what genres were preferred) if he happened to list reading as high up on his list of things he enjoyed doing.

Holding out for an avid reader totally paid off in the end because my husband (even though he doesn't enjoy fiction the way I do and is more into history and politics) is so brilliant it makes me want to weep with joy.

I am totally biased about reading, maybe unfaily so, but I have this thing like if you don't read then you must be stupid. Not that I'm some genius (my lips move when I do simple addition and I may even go blank and begin to drool) and I have certainly run into many people in my life that have proved this theory wrong. I used to work with a guy (at the construction company) who was functionally illiterate (like couldn't even fill out his insurance forms), but had an amazing photographic memory and could eerily recite shit that he had overheard word for word.

So it's fine not to be a reader, chances are I probably would have had sex with you anyway although I most likely wouldn't have dated you publicly or introduced you to my friends.

The concept of the literary deal breaker is how I knew that my best friend Amys marriage to Assface was as doomed as doomed can be when, not even one full year after their wedding, Assface proudly and pompously announced that reading for pleasure was a complete waste of time.

Amy was floored.

I probably mentally nicknamed him Assface right then and there.

Imagine the shock and horror of my poor darling Amy at this news. Like finding out you're married to Joseph Stalin or Jesse Helms or Roy Cohn. Fuck, name any historic killjoy.

Not that she hadn't noticed in all that time that he didn't care for reading. But he was a student and she just assumed that he didn't have the time. It never occurred to her that he or anyone on the planet could actually be anti-reading. What the fuck?

As I was saying, I didn't really have a literary deal breaker so much but I did have a movie deal breaker.

I loved the movie Raising Arizona so much that I saw it twice in one day. I went to see it at the theater the day it opened with my friend M. She and I both worked in retail at the time and had Fridays off so we went to the movies a lot on Friday afternoons. Matinee prices. We were young and poor.

Raising Arizona was the fucking funniest thing I had ever seen in my whole young goddamn life. M and I laughed so much we missed half the movie so we decided to shell out for it again at the next show.

It was too good not to share so we went to the pay phone in the theater lobby (because back then "car phones", as they were called were only owned by oil tycoons, real estate barons and Hugh Hefner) and called in the reinforcements, her boyfriend, my best friend, her sister and all our other friends and demanded they meet us at the theater immediately for our second viewing. We called as many people as we had change in our pockets to call.

A little later in life when I met Dan and Nature Boy I knew we would all be great friends because they loved Raising Arizona as much as me. To this day we all make references to and quote from this movie to each other. Some highlights include:

Not unless round's funny.

Sometimes I get the menstrual cramps... real hard.

Does the Pope wear a funny hat?

Let me sneak a little peek-a-loo!

I'm crapping you negative.

These things aren't as meaningful or as funny typed out here on my blog, but trust me Raising Arizona is all kinds of funny.

When I was a young singleton, and some man-boy was poking around looking for a date and he either refused to watch it, said it wasn't funny or didn't get it - he was immediately ruled out and the connection was instantly dead. I felt like if you didn't get that movie than you would never get me.

Flossing was my other deal breaker. That tidbit is somewhat unrelated to the subject of this post but a reminder to all you young (and old) single people out there of the importance of dental hygiene.

Now... on the other end of the spectrum I had another movie deal breaker in that I knew that if the interested party claimed to love any number of the Police Academy movies, Porky's, or anything having to do with Steven Seagal or god forbid Chuck Fucking Norris, not only would never work but I might have just run away screaming.

Anyhoo... if you have never seen Raising Arizona, what the hell is wrong with you? Rent it immediately. I realize that it's 21 years old now, but I think it is every bit as good as it was when it came out. I plugged in this scene for you that I found on YouTube. I never realized how much punch the Cohen Bros. were able to pack into a 7 and a half minute scene. There is not a millimeter of film wasted.



What movie, book or music is/was YOUR dating deal breaker?

In Response To Your Google Search Query #9

Dear Person Who Found My Blog Via the search query "ametuer pies volume 13"

Bon jour and welcome to my blog!

First of all I would like to say that having made it all the way to volume 13 certainly you should no longer consider yourself an "amateur" except perhaps in the spelling department darling, really, how appalling and no wonder you weren't directed to a more reputable pie information site.

Anyhoo... bad spelling or not, since you ended up here I'm honored that one so well informed about pie would come to my blog for advice or whatever it is that you came here looking for.

Personally pies don't really turn me on and I haven't had much experience with them. I have more of a savory palate and could teach you quite a lot about sausage.

At any rate, as always, I'm here to help! Although I'm not sure how much help I can offer you on subject of pies I will impart what knowledge I do have so that your visit to my blog wasn't a complete waste of your time, you being a pie expert and all.

Let's see, pie, pie, pie... where to start....?

We'll go bottoms up with the pie...

The pie crust is the trickiest part of the whole process. A badly prepared crust can ruin the whole pie and I should know! I've never been able to do it properly but it's my understanding that the secret to a terrific pie crust is to keep your ingredients cold and the handling to a minimum. I have to admit that has kind of always been my problem with pie - I just can't seem to keep my hands out of it.

Next I suppose we should cover the basics of filling. You can have a field day with the variety of pie that is available out there. Just name a fruit or flavor and I'm sure that somebody has put it in their pie at one time or another. But no matter what your taste preference I find in my experience that a pie is only as good as what goes into it so naturally you'll want to make sure your pie is filled with only the finest quality ingredients. In other words: Don't just shove any old thing in your pie. Be discerning.

Now that your pie has been rolled, filled and baked it's time for the best part - eating the pie. Bon appetit!

Um... what? What do you mean not that kind of pie? What other kind of pie is there?




Oh...



Never mind.



Best Wishes & Kindest Regards!
The Lady


The post above is dedicated to my mother who is always oblivious to any sexual reference and continues to pronounce the word VOLVO, as in the automobile brand, "VULVA" even after I have corrected her a kabillion times. I once heard her say to a friend on the phone "that sausage was absolutely the best thing I EVER had in my mouth!"

She also always signs her notes "Best Wishes & Kindest Regards", which sets my teeth on edge.

F-ing Good Ham Mom

Having missed half a day of work on Thursday and all day on Friday, spending most of my weekend recovering from my malaise and having to put up with MDH and his bad attitude about having to finish doing our taxes (he fired our accountant earlier this year) and raking the leaves that he for some mysterious (lazy) reason wasn't able to rake up before it started snowing last November, well fuck it...

Let's just say I had a shitty weekend. I didn't feel good and the husband that I know and love went away and was temporarily replaced by some yelling, complaining tax monkey.

The best thing about my weekend? Honey Baked Ham.

I'm not normally a big ham eater. Too salty for me really, but sometimes, like once every 2 or 3 years I crave it like nobody's business. So on Saturday when MDH's incessant ranting at Turbo Tax and anyone who dared move or speak within a 20 foot radius of his charm-free tax doing (me and the cat) drove me (screaming and peeling out of the driveway like some crackhead in an episode of COPS) from the house for a couple of hours (and cough, cough, ahem, excuse me I still wasn't feeling well) I happened for the first time notice the Honey Baked Ham store across the street from the DSW at my preferred mall location.

What better way to deal with a surly spouse then shoe shopping, eh?

Anyhoo... those of you mall goers out there will realize the degree of my intense craving and subsequent sacrifice when I tell you that I actually crossed the street in front of the busy mall to get to the goddamn ham store. I won't even cross my legs for $50, so we're talking about a serious ham craving here.

Once the busy street was crossed I was greeted at the ham store by a large hand written sign taped to the glass front door that said:

NO CHECKS TODAY
CREDIT CARD MACHINE BROKE

SORRY - CASH ONLY!!

Oh no you don't. I just crossed 5 lanes of Saturday afternoon mall traffic and you're telling me cash only? Under normal circumstances the bad grammar in the sign would make me stomp away fuming, but not today Ham Store. You can't get rid of me that easily.

I walked in anyway knowing full well that I only had eleven dollars in my pocket, and really having no idea how much ham costs. Surely ham for 2 costs eleven dollars or less!

Alas no. I asked the nice toothless lady to please show me her smallest ham and it was like 30 bucks. But she was super sly and reeled me in by peeling away the foil so that I could better smell the damn thing. It smelled good. Really fuckin' good.

So good that I crossed the busy street again, eager as a hog in heat, back to the ATM machine at the mall where I withdrew $60 and then crossed the busy street yet again practically screaming with desire, out of breath (not really because of course I was driving back and forth across the busy street) and waving my ham cash in the air (again, not really, the money was in my pocket. I'm just trying to convey the bizarre sense of urgency I felt to buy a goddamn ham).

When I arrived Toothless was waiting for me with my gorgeous little ham bundle. I picked out some au gratin potatoes from the freezer, paid with my thrice busy street crossed on a Saturday cash and headed back home.

It was f-ing good ham. It still is f-ing good ham because even though it was the tiniest ham they had it's still as big as my head and I'll be eating ham for the next half century.

In honor of my delicious ham and the fact that my friends Dan and Steph celebrated Dan's birthday by seeing The Kids In the Hall this weekend with Amy Ted, Frenchie and Nature Boy, I tried really hard to find an old Kids In the Hall Sketch where a teenage boy accidentally tells his mother that her ham was really fucking good, but this was the closest I could find. Won't you please enjoy it anyway.... the words at least rhyme with ham.

Please Pass the Midol

I don't know what it is about Burt Reynold's Mustache that makes me sick, but here I am once again on the 4th of the month at home and ailing. I won't trouble you with the details, but I'm uncomfortable and dreary. I am also paranoid about missing work.

It's not a bad day to be staying home at all. It's raining and gray and the joy of my new green raincoat has already worn off. Besides MDH is in Chicago so the TV and I are enjoying the nice little break from all of the seemingly endless college basketball. I read this morning that UMass lost last night to OSU in the NIT or whatever so I'll have the rest of the spring and summer to be miserable with the Red Sox.

At the same time, unlike the time that I had that horrible stomach thingy, I'm not too ill to write a little something and somewhat enjoy my "day off" by watching daytime TV, getting a little laundry done here and there and catching up on my New York Magazine crossword puzzles.

While I'm busy being lazy and feeling sorry for myself won't you please enjoy this lovely post at Burt Reynolds Mustache? Cough, cough.

I should mention that I'm not really having "female trouble" as such, it's just that I read an interview with John Waters in New York Magazine so Divine has been on my mind. I don't know what to make of that.

Anyhoo... I was troubled to read about the interviewer's discovery upon a vist to Mr. Waters bathroom of " a Maybelline black eye pencil with a sharpener and a little pile of shavings" next to a jar of Crème de la Mer. It's a mustache kind of day.