...but I am a Green Day fan. Have been for years now.
And the end of my summer concert series came about tonight when my mom and I headed down to SDSU to see Green Day at what used to be the Cox Arena.
You can make all the jokes you want at my expense, but I had a FANTASTIC time. Just as I did the last time I went to see them (which, coincidentally, was at the same venue), for the second run of their American Idiot tour.
Billie Joe Armstrong makes me want to break all my short man rules.
I've said it before, and I'll probably say it many more times again, but I am a complete sucker for musicians. Especially when they have more stage presence that should be legal. Other performers that have completely won me over after seeing them perform live: Steven Tyler, Steve Miller, Justin Timberlake, Roger Daltrey, Donnie Wahlberg, and Huey Lewis. Thankfully I have enough common sense to avoid dating musicians as they are a peculiar breed, especially lead singers.
Anyway. The concert tonight. Franz Ferdinand opened, but Ma and I somehow managed to miss their set due to traffic, waiting to buy t-shirts, and necessary beer purchasing. I'm a little sad about that.
Our seats were amazing, despite not being down on the floor level. Had they opened up the floor level like they did the last time I saw them, I would've probably stayed put, our seats were that good.
Billie Joe played the harmonica.
He also brought lots of folks up onstage (including this adorable five-year-old scene-stealing boy named Thomas) to help sing along or get the crowd going.
Again. Would break all of my short man rules for Billie Joe, were he not married.
I couldn't tell you the set list, and I'm not familiar at all with their new CD, but the old hits they played made me smile and hop around, and I was sweaty and hoarse and exhausted by the end of their two-hour set.
Good times.
I'm sure there's more I want to write, but I am so completely tired right now I can't pull it all together.
After the concert Mom and I headed to the Gaslamp Quarter since she'd never been there, and we had a couple of pints at the Shout piano bar. I got called out by one of the piano players for not standing with everyone else during their rendition of "Kung Fu Fighting".
Stupid me forgot to use the facilities before we left, which resulted in a madcap tour of La Jolla trying to find public bathrooms and/or food. We wound up at a Denny's in Miramar where I proceeded to ecstatically cheat on my diet by demolishing a lumberjack slam. There will be pictures as soon as we get them developed.
The drive home was uneventful and boring, and now I am more than ready to completely pass out and sleep until tomorrow afternoon, at which time I will consider typing more.
Ssssssshhhhhh......time for sleep..........
Friday, August 21, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
I've got a new great idea...
I'm going to give it all up and become a plumber. Vivian is going to be my assistant. Mainly she's going to plonk down close to whatever I'm working on and try to steal drill bits and screws and other metal objects from me while I'm not looking, then give me innocent eyes when I call her on it.
I'll have to get her a tool belt.
Spent a good deal of time today attempting to replace the toilet in the master bathroom so my dad doesn't have to do it when he gets back from Kansas. And as horrific as I thought the task was going to be....turned out most of those fears were unfounded. Although the wax seal stuff is just strange.
During the process of removing the old toilet, it became pretty clear to Shibbs and I just how cheaply our house was built. Needless to say, we hit a couple of snags, which is why we're only halfway through the job.
First off: the metal flange the toilet bolts onto is completely corroded and useless. Apparently this had caused enough of a problem for someone (presumably Dad) to go in and rig a quick cheap fix. So Shibbs and I traipse off to the Home Depot (again) to see if we can get another one.
Ahhhhhhhh. Home Depot. I want to work there. I want to be knowledgeable about plumbing or lumber or gardening enough that I can help lost-looking customers and swap job site horror stories with construction workers dropping in to pick up a part. I could wander the aisles in there for hours, and I have no idea why since I have no sort of DIY knowledge to speak of and very rarely manage to call things by their proper names. Case in point: Shibbs and I today on our search for the flange. Didn't know that was the name until I repeated "You know, the metal circle thingie that the toilet bolts onto around the drainage pipe whatsit on the floor," enough times for the guy to know what I was talking about. There were also lots of descriptive hand gestures on my part. I think the picture of it that we brought with us helped.
I had been hoping that the fella who Mom and I struck up a rapport with when we were buying the toilet (and then helped me and Shibbs get the right part for the bathtub) would be working since he's super-friendly and helpful without making me feel like he's dumbing it down for a silly girl who doesn't know her way around a tool box. Couldn't find him in the plumbing section, and the old guy who deciphered "thingie" and "whatsit" and hand gestures (with a help from a picture on digital camera) quickly foisted us off on this other guy who had somehow gotten involved with our toilet-buying escapades the previous week.
I was not happy with this foisting off because this guy is the other (and more common) type of male Home Depot employee. The one that assumes I don't know anything about anything. And while I freely admit that I don't know what I'm doing to the point of having to either follow printed instructions or just sort of figure it out when it comes to home repair, that does not mean I won't get pissy if you are real quick to assume that's the case. Especially since you're working in customer service. AND THEN, just to make things worse, oh pretty please insinuate that I'm not strong enough to lift something and that somebody will take it to my car.
Buddy. The toilet only weighs 100 pounds. There were two of us, and me and Mom have both done our fair share of baggage-slinging at the airport. Oh, and we're taking the initiative to replace a toilet all by our weak, wilting, helpless selves.
Obviously this guy hit a nerve when he interfered on toilet-buying day, so the prospect of relying on this guy to help us in our flange foray had me a little concerned...
Sure enough. He came down from on almighty plumbing high to help us poor, helpless, silly, clueless females who were obviously messing around with man's work. Once on the proper aisle, my eyes quickly caught on the part we needed, only to be told that replacing the flange is a really tough job and you have to be very very very careful you don't damage the main pipe because then you have to take out the floor and re-do everything. You see...the flange thingie is attached to a bit of PVC that you then cement into the drainage pipe. To replace that involves lots of careful banging and hacksawing.
So he presented the quick and easy fix, which more or less amounts to the metal ring part of the flange that you then screw down over the top of the existing flange. But when I say the existing flange is corroded.... I feel like "corroded" doesn't properly convey the mess of rusted out metal mixed with wax sealant that appeared once we took the old toilet out. So I was a bit nervous that, like the quick fix my dad tried, this quick fix would fail and I'd have to take the toilet out again and go back and replace the flange after all.
Thankfully Shelby was with me, otherwise I would've tried to replace the flange and probably ruined everything, all because of my prickly sense of capability. After a couple of weighty exchanges of eye contact, we both agreed to forgo the risk of completely screwing everything up and thus incurring the mighty wrath of Billiam so close to the ends of our respective summers. Got the fake flange, got some caulk, traipsed home.
Vivian, for some reason, likes to sit and watch me fix plumbing problems. She kept me company on Friday when I fixed the bathtub, and she sat with us today while we futzed about with the toilet. It would be cuter if I didn't have to keep an eye out for her stealing drill bits or any other spare metal or really anything available to chew on.
Anyway, fake flange in hand, Shibbs and I finish scraping off all the old wax in order to install the fix. Except (hooray for cheap construction) we can't get the fake flange to fit over the real flange because the lazy jackasses who laid the tile in that bathroom did a really imprecise job of cutting the tiles to fit around the drain pipe and flange. So I got to attempt to chip off the overhange with a scraper and a hammer. You've got to be kidding me.
Finally manage to get the tile trimmed and the fake flange on top. Now to anchor the thing into the subfloor...
Except, of course, I only have two screws and one of them, for some god-unknown reason, isn't catching the threads and frickin' screwing down into the subfloor.
WHY ME?!
This means another trip to Home Depot, and at this point Shelby and I opt to put the project on hold until tomorrow as we're meant to go to Grandma's house for dinner and it's already 3:30.
So it's on hold. Stopped by the Home Depot by Grandma's house this time because I feel like I've been seen in mine too often this past week, and mostly in my hippie dress (I swear I haven't worn anything besides that dress out in public since I bought it. It is that comfortable). But the hippie dress is golden at Home Depot. I get help from nice people, not assholes. The guy at Grandma's Home Depot did all the work and found me replacement screws, saving me time spent pawing through the thousands of different types of screws they sell.
So as soon as I wake up...going to finish the job. I hope. And, as a bonus nice thing for Dad, I'm going to fix the shower too, since I am now familiar with the pressure arm hoozits on bathtub faucets. He's using a wrench to work the thing right now. Classy.
Plus I have to finish fine-tuning the replacement pressure thingie in my bathroom. And clean the house. I should probably go to bed.
Diet is still going strong. Despite MASSIVE TEMPTATION in the form of baked goods tonight at Grandma's house. Only a week left, then I get to eat fruit again!
I'll have to get her a tool belt.
Spent a good deal of time today attempting to replace the toilet in the master bathroom so my dad doesn't have to do it when he gets back from Kansas. And as horrific as I thought the task was going to be....turned out most of those fears were unfounded. Although the wax seal stuff is just strange.
During the process of removing the old toilet, it became pretty clear to Shibbs and I just how cheaply our house was built. Needless to say, we hit a couple of snags, which is why we're only halfway through the job.
First off: the metal flange the toilet bolts onto is completely corroded and useless. Apparently this had caused enough of a problem for someone (presumably Dad) to go in and rig a quick cheap fix. So Shibbs and I traipse off to the Home Depot (again) to see if we can get another one.
Ahhhhhhhh. Home Depot. I want to work there. I want to be knowledgeable about plumbing or lumber or gardening enough that I can help lost-looking customers and swap job site horror stories with construction workers dropping in to pick up a part. I could wander the aisles in there for hours, and I have no idea why since I have no sort of DIY knowledge to speak of and very rarely manage to call things by their proper names. Case in point: Shibbs and I today on our search for the flange. Didn't know that was the name until I repeated "You know, the metal circle thingie that the toilet bolts onto around the drainage pipe whatsit on the floor," enough times for the guy to know what I was talking about. There were also lots of descriptive hand gestures on my part. I think the picture of it that we brought with us helped.
I had been hoping that the fella who Mom and I struck up a rapport with when we were buying the toilet (and then helped me and Shibbs get the right part for the bathtub) would be working since he's super-friendly and helpful without making me feel like he's dumbing it down for a silly girl who doesn't know her way around a tool box. Couldn't find him in the plumbing section, and the old guy who deciphered "thingie" and "whatsit" and hand gestures (with a help from a picture on digital camera) quickly foisted us off on this other guy who had somehow gotten involved with our toilet-buying escapades the previous week.
I was not happy with this foisting off because this guy is the other (and more common) type of male Home Depot employee. The one that assumes I don't know anything about anything. And while I freely admit that I don't know what I'm doing to the point of having to either follow printed instructions or just sort of figure it out when it comes to home repair, that does not mean I won't get pissy if you are real quick to assume that's the case. Especially since you're working in customer service. AND THEN, just to make things worse, oh pretty please insinuate that I'm not strong enough to lift something and that somebody will take it to my car.
Buddy. The toilet only weighs 100 pounds. There were two of us, and me and Mom have both done our fair share of baggage-slinging at the airport. Oh, and we're taking the initiative to replace a toilet all by our weak, wilting, helpless selves.
Obviously this guy hit a nerve when he interfered on toilet-buying day, so the prospect of relying on this guy to help us in our flange foray had me a little concerned...
Sure enough. He came down from on almighty plumbing high to help us poor, helpless, silly, clueless females who were obviously messing around with man's work. Once on the proper aisle, my eyes quickly caught on the part we needed, only to be told that replacing the flange is a really tough job and you have to be very very very careful you don't damage the main pipe because then you have to take out the floor and re-do everything. You see...the flange thingie is attached to a bit of PVC that you then cement into the drainage pipe. To replace that involves lots of careful banging and hacksawing.
So he presented the quick and easy fix, which more or less amounts to the metal ring part of the flange that you then screw down over the top of the existing flange. But when I say the existing flange is corroded.... I feel like "corroded" doesn't properly convey the mess of rusted out metal mixed with wax sealant that appeared once we took the old toilet out. So I was a bit nervous that, like the quick fix my dad tried, this quick fix would fail and I'd have to take the toilet out again and go back and replace the flange after all.
Thankfully Shelby was with me, otherwise I would've tried to replace the flange and probably ruined everything, all because of my prickly sense of capability. After a couple of weighty exchanges of eye contact, we both agreed to forgo the risk of completely screwing everything up and thus incurring the mighty wrath of Billiam so close to the ends of our respective summers. Got the fake flange, got some caulk, traipsed home.
Vivian, for some reason, likes to sit and watch me fix plumbing problems. She kept me company on Friday when I fixed the bathtub, and she sat with us today while we futzed about with the toilet. It would be cuter if I didn't have to keep an eye out for her stealing drill bits or any other spare metal or really anything available to chew on.
Anyway, fake flange in hand, Shibbs and I finish scraping off all the old wax in order to install the fix. Except (hooray for cheap construction) we can't get the fake flange to fit over the real flange because the lazy jackasses who laid the tile in that bathroom did a really imprecise job of cutting the tiles to fit around the drain pipe and flange. So I got to attempt to chip off the overhange with a scraper and a hammer. You've got to be kidding me.
Finally manage to get the tile trimmed and the fake flange on top. Now to anchor the thing into the subfloor...
Except, of course, I only have two screws and one of them, for some god-unknown reason, isn't catching the threads and frickin' screwing down into the subfloor.
WHY ME?!
This means another trip to Home Depot, and at this point Shelby and I opt to put the project on hold until tomorrow as we're meant to go to Grandma's house for dinner and it's already 3:30.
So it's on hold. Stopped by the Home Depot by Grandma's house this time because I feel like I've been seen in mine too often this past week, and mostly in my hippie dress (I swear I haven't worn anything besides that dress out in public since I bought it. It is that comfortable). But the hippie dress is golden at Home Depot. I get help from nice people, not assholes. The guy at Grandma's Home Depot did all the work and found me replacement screws, saving me time spent pawing through the thousands of different types of screws they sell.
So as soon as I wake up...going to finish the job. I hope. And, as a bonus nice thing for Dad, I'm going to fix the shower too, since I am now familiar with the pressure arm hoozits on bathtub faucets. He's using a wrench to work the thing right now. Classy.
Plus I have to finish fine-tuning the replacement pressure thingie in my bathroom. And clean the house. I should probably go to bed.
Diet is still going strong. Despite MASSIVE TEMPTATION in the form of baked goods tonight at Grandma's house. Only a week left, then I get to eat fruit again!
Saturday, August 15, 2009
First week: DONE
Despite cravings for sandwiches and chocolate, I have made it through the first week of this infernal diet. My outlook for the second week is good because I went to the grocery store today and bought some damn fine hummus.
It's the little things really.
I've also decided I'm going to start eating the dinner meal for lunch and vice versa because I find myself not all that hungry at night, plus...I don't eat dinner until late, and I feel bad eating a big meal at 9 o'clock at night. Today was the trial run of this and I feel like I've made the right choice. A bigger lunch makes me less snack-y right before bed. Not sure how that works.
Today I got into a fight with the faucet on my bathtub. I won. The cheap fixture that probably hasn't been replaced since my parents bought the house crapped out and I replaced it. WD-40 is my new best friend, because there's no way in hell I would've been able to take out the old part without it. Tomorrow Shelby and I are going to replace a toilet. As unhappy as I may be with the prospect of how foul this job could turn out to be, I'm excited to get to work with hands and do some home maintenance. I'm tempted to buy a tool belt (that I'd never use).
Seems like it's been a few days of needing physical strength. Changed the oil on my car the day before yesterday and since that hasn't been done in a year or more due to my car not being on the running side of things, it was particularly difficult to remove the plug on the oil pan, and the filter was so glued on I had to break out an awl and drive it into the filter so I could use it to wrench the silly thing off. Felt good getting my hands dirty, even if I did do the whole thing wearing my new hippie dress. And without chipping my newly-manicured nails.
I got the first book for my dissertation research today too. Exciting stuff. It's massive and reminiscent of a textbook, but seeing as how it's probably going to be the backbone of my research, I am geekily thrilled to dive into it. Unfortunately, before I can do that I have to write the two portfolios that I have to hand in at the end of the month.
I'm going to a Green Day concert this week. I think. With my mom. Cracks me up though... wanted nothing more than to go to one of their shows when I was a teenager and really into pop punk, and now I listen to my old pop punk stuff for a bit of nostalgia and I'm going to a Green Day concert with my mom (who claims to have always been a fan.... though to be fair she's the one that bought Dookie for me, completely unasked, when I was still really into grunge). I've seen them once before, on the second round of their American Idiot tour, and I remember being annoyed at how young the audience was, since it appeared that most of them had been in kindergarten when Dookie was released.
Anyway. I'm excited to go to what will be the last event of what has turned out to be a concert summer. I've seen more this year than any year previous, and they've all been in the course of less than two months. Wacky. And none of the three are new acts. New Kids and Huey Lewis were from my childhood, and Green Day is from my adolescence. Bit of a trip, really.
I couldn't sleep last night so I watched movies. Starting with 17 Again. And lord help me, but Zac Efron is all kinds of crazy hot. Man. I hope he never does anything besides cheesy stuff meant to pack girls into theaters, because if it turns out he can actually act as well. Lordy. Don't know if I could handle having an acting crush on somebody who is also that blisteringly good-looking. Even if he does have narrow shoulders.
But I did enjoy 17 Again. Mainly because Lt. Dangle plays a rich nerd who has a speeder bed and several toy lightsabers. God knows I'm a sucker for Star Wars nerd jokes. And there were Lord of the Rings jokes too. Magnificent.
Then I had to watch Hairspray. Yes. There was a theme developing with my movie choices. For the most part, I did not like Hairspray. The original was okay, but turning it into a musical completely killed it for me. And what the hell? Who decided to turn a John Waters movie into a musical? Although, should they ever decide to do the same for Pecker, I'm there.
But I will say I fell a little in love with James Marsden as Corny Collins. He nailed that role with that fantastic smarmy grin of his. Heart.
Finally, I watched Junebug, which has been sitting on my computer for a while, just hadn't gotten around to watching it. Downloaded it because Amy Adams is in it, and as much as I want to her play something besides a wide-eyed innocent, I can't help but admit she's real damn good at it. And a southern accent suits her just fine. Didn't really like it though due to a weird sex scene, an even weirder masturbation scene, a racist artist who liked painting comical penises on the men in his artwork, and the fact that Natasha from Bridget Jones was the main character. Blech.
Ho-hum. Peanut attacked and killed my fan, so it's hot in my room right now. I can't decide whether to start my R-Patts mini-filmfest or play Total War. Probably R-Patts. Need to see whether or not he can actually act. And I want to see what all the fuss was about with him in that Dali movie.
It's the little things really.
I've also decided I'm going to start eating the dinner meal for lunch and vice versa because I find myself not all that hungry at night, plus...I don't eat dinner until late, and I feel bad eating a big meal at 9 o'clock at night. Today was the trial run of this and I feel like I've made the right choice. A bigger lunch makes me less snack-y right before bed. Not sure how that works.
Today I got into a fight with the faucet on my bathtub. I won. The cheap fixture that probably hasn't been replaced since my parents bought the house crapped out and I replaced it. WD-40 is my new best friend, because there's no way in hell I would've been able to take out the old part without it. Tomorrow Shelby and I are going to replace a toilet. As unhappy as I may be with the prospect of how foul this job could turn out to be, I'm excited to get to work with hands and do some home maintenance. I'm tempted to buy a tool belt (that I'd never use).
Seems like it's been a few days of needing physical strength. Changed the oil on my car the day before yesterday and since that hasn't been done in a year or more due to my car not being on the running side of things, it was particularly difficult to remove the plug on the oil pan, and the filter was so glued on I had to break out an awl and drive it into the filter so I could use it to wrench the silly thing off. Felt good getting my hands dirty, even if I did do the whole thing wearing my new hippie dress. And without chipping my newly-manicured nails.
I got the first book for my dissertation research today too. Exciting stuff. It's massive and reminiscent of a textbook, but seeing as how it's probably going to be the backbone of my research, I am geekily thrilled to dive into it. Unfortunately, before I can do that I have to write the two portfolios that I have to hand in at the end of the month.
I'm going to a Green Day concert this week. I think. With my mom. Cracks me up though... wanted nothing more than to go to one of their shows when I was a teenager and really into pop punk, and now I listen to my old pop punk stuff for a bit of nostalgia and I'm going to a Green Day concert with my mom (who claims to have always been a fan.... though to be fair she's the one that bought Dookie for me, completely unasked, when I was still really into grunge). I've seen them once before, on the second round of their American Idiot tour, and I remember being annoyed at how young the audience was, since it appeared that most of them had been in kindergarten when Dookie was released.
Anyway. I'm excited to go to what will be the last event of what has turned out to be a concert summer. I've seen more this year than any year previous, and they've all been in the course of less than two months. Wacky. And none of the three are new acts. New Kids and Huey Lewis were from my childhood, and Green Day is from my adolescence. Bit of a trip, really.
I couldn't sleep last night so I watched movies. Starting with 17 Again. And lord help me, but Zac Efron is all kinds of crazy hot. Man. I hope he never does anything besides cheesy stuff meant to pack girls into theaters, because if it turns out he can actually act as well. Lordy. Don't know if I could handle having an acting crush on somebody who is also that blisteringly good-looking. Even if he does have narrow shoulders.
But I did enjoy 17 Again. Mainly because Lt. Dangle plays a rich nerd who has a speeder bed and several toy lightsabers. God knows I'm a sucker for Star Wars nerd jokes. And there were Lord of the Rings jokes too. Magnificent.
Then I had to watch Hairspray. Yes. There was a theme developing with my movie choices. For the most part, I did not like Hairspray. The original was okay, but turning it into a musical completely killed it for me. And what the hell? Who decided to turn a John Waters movie into a musical? Although, should they ever decide to do the same for Pecker, I'm there.
But I will say I fell a little in love with James Marsden as Corny Collins. He nailed that role with that fantastic smarmy grin of his. Heart.
Finally, I watched Junebug, which has been sitting on my computer for a while, just hadn't gotten around to watching it. Downloaded it because Amy Adams is in it, and as much as I want to her play something besides a wide-eyed innocent, I can't help but admit she's real damn good at it. And a southern accent suits her just fine. Didn't really like it though due to a weird sex scene, an even weirder masturbation scene, a racist artist who liked painting comical penises on the men in his artwork, and the fact that Natasha from Bridget Jones was the main character. Blech.
Ho-hum. Peanut attacked and killed my fan, so it's hot in my room right now. I can't decide whether to start my R-Patts mini-filmfest or play Total War. Probably R-Patts. Need to see whether or not he can actually act. And I want to see what all the fuss was about with him in that Dali movie.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Too broke for a haircut leads to silliness...
Right now, I have (I think) 13 bright pink sponge curlers doing a reasonably good job of putting my hair in a choke hold. I cannot afford a haircut right now, so I'm looking elsewhere for ideas on how to make my hair look presentable.
I have not had a haircut since December. And while you may think this is no big deal, I feel the need to remind everyone how short my hair SHOULD be:
...Except I can't find a picture from right after my last haircut. I suppose this is what happens when you're the crazy, over-zealous photo-taker of the group.
Anyway. My hair is now long enough to put back into a ponytail, albeit a very short one. I can no longer use a straightener to make it look fabulous (or at least, it's beyond my meager hair-taming capabilities). Now, I am still tempted to dye it purple, but that won't solve my unmanageability issues (and would probably make them worse).
Yesterday I considered lightly curling all of my hair with a small curling iron. Last night I told my mother I want to grow my hair out and get a body wave perm. Then, whilst wandering Wal-Mart this evening, I had a revelation: sponge curlers. Hence the 13 or so that are clustered on my head right now. I hope my hair is long enough to keep them all in.
The goal? Wavy tousled locks. Or something. We'll see how this all turns out tomorrow. And since I actually have to leave the house tomorrow (2 separate trips to the airport, first dropping off Ma, then picking up Shibbs), I'm that much more motivated to do a good job. Plus, Shelby's initial reaction should give me a pretty good idea whether or not I look like a total fool.
I'm hoping I don't. Because, you see, if this works, then I can achieve a body wave perm without all the chemicals which would undoubtably make me lose hair. Plus, since I've ravaged it a bit with hair dye, there's a possibility that everything could go wrong and ALL of my hair would fall out. And putting curlers in only takes about 15 minutes, so it's something I could easily do at night before bed. AND THEN, I'd have an excuse to switch back to taking a shower at night, allowing for at least 15 more minutes of sleep the following morning.
By the way, this is what happens when I spend a lot of time on my own. I have long, drawn-out arguments with myself over hare-brained hairstyling ideas, and eventually I start muttering my ideas to myself. Or to a cat.
But anyway, day four is done, and I realized this afternoon I missed jotting down a few thoughts on day three. Day three wound up being a bit of a let-down since the hummus I was excited for turned out to have no real discernable flavor. In fact, the celery had more taste than the hummus. Next time I'm making my own.
Omlets are now my new best friends. I put Hatch green chile in my western omlet this morning and promptly had my mind blown. Fan-tastic.
I have three cute new dresses, but I've only had the opportunity to wear one. The other two are waiting to be unveiled when I return to England. Though there is a possibility of a west coast debut, if the right occasion comes along. The one dress I have worn is my new best friend, although Stacy and Clinton of What Not to Wear would screech at me for wearing it. I have watched too many reruns of that show in the past week.
I should probably go to bed now. And at any rate, I forgot what else I was going to say.
I have not had a haircut since December. And while you may think this is no big deal, I feel the need to remind everyone how short my hair SHOULD be:
...Except I can't find a picture from right after my last haircut. I suppose this is what happens when you're the crazy, over-zealous photo-taker of the group.
Anyway. My hair is now long enough to put back into a ponytail, albeit a very short one. I can no longer use a straightener to make it look fabulous (or at least, it's beyond my meager hair-taming capabilities). Now, I am still tempted to dye it purple, but that won't solve my unmanageability issues (and would probably make them worse).
Yesterday I considered lightly curling all of my hair with a small curling iron. Last night I told my mother I want to grow my hair out and get a body wave perm. Then, whilst wandering Wal-Mart this evening, I had a revelation: sponge curlers. Hence the 13 or so that are clustered on my head right now. I hope my hair is long enough to keep them all in.
The goal? Wavy tousled locks. Or something. We'll see how this all turns out tomorrow. And since I actually have to leave the house tomorrow (2 separate trips to the airport, first dropping off Ma, then picking up Shibbs), I'm that much more motivated to do a good job. Plus, Shelby's initial reaction should give me a pretty good idea whether or not I look like a total fool.
I'm hoping I don't. Because, you see, if this works, then I can achieve a body wave perm without all the chemicals which would undoubtably make me lose hair. Plus, since I've ravaged it a bit with hair dye, there's a possibility that everything could go wrong and ALL of my hair would fall out. And putting curlers in only takes about 15 minutes, so it's something I could easily do at night before bed. AND THEN, I'd have an excuse to switch back to taking a shower at night, allowing for at least 15 more minutes of sleep the following morning.
By the way, this is what happens when I spend a lot of time on my own. I have long, drawn-out arguments with myself over hare-brained hairstyling ideas, and eventually I start muttering my ideas to myself. Or to a cat.
But anyway, day four is done, and I realized this afternoon I missed jotting down a few thoughts on day three. Day three wound up being a bit of a let-down since the hummus I was excited for turned out to have no real discernable flavor. In fact, the celery had more taste than the hummus. Next time I'm making my own.
Omlets are now my new best friends. I put Hatch green chile in my western omlet this morning and promptly had my mind blown. Fan-tastic.
I have three cute new dresses, but I've only had the opportunity to wear one. The other two are waiting to be unveiled when I return to England. Though there is a possibility of a west coast debut, if the right occasion comes along. The one dress I have worn is my new best friend, although Stacy and Clinton of What Not to Wear would screech at me for wearing it. I have watched too many reruns of that show in the past week.
I should probably go to bed now. And at any rate, I forgot what else I was going to say.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Today I ate a hard-boiled egg.
Day Two: done.
Just so you know, there are going to be twelve more days of bitching and whining until Phase 1 is over and I can eat fruit and bread again.
I have decided that sharing menu planning with my mother is going to turn the next two weeks into an exercise in just shoving things into my mouth, chewing, then swallowing regardless of the taste. I don't like raw tomatoes, asparagus has to be eaten with something else, as do squash and zucchini, and the edamame we bought is atrocious. I am also leery of radishes since it's been a long time since I tried one (and didn't like it the last time around). Blue cheese reminds me of stinky feet and tastes too salty. Mom likes all of these things. On the other hand, I love onions and all colors of bell peppers (especially orange), and I prefer TONS of garlic when a recipe calls for it. Mom...not so much. We're making it work though.
The pork chops tonight turned out excellent. That's a recipe I'm going to keep. Soy sauce, garlic, paprika, black pepper, and a teensy dash of salt. So lovely. Surprisingly so.
Since Shelby and Dad are in Kansas the puppies sleep in my room on nights when Mom works the next day. They're cute once they finally bed down (they both spoon, and Vivian is an expert at it), but the amount of carnage and noise beforehand is a bit tiresome. Right now Viv is trying to figure out a way to get up on my dresser.
The puppies are also very fond of attacking me whenever one of the Wii Fit exercises require me to lay down. Today Vivian jumped on my face in an attempt to get at my hands whilst I was doing jackknifes. She managed to perfectly plant her front paws on my eyeballs. Nice.
Anyway. Tomorrow promises to be a school work marathon. Excitement abounding.
Good news though...tomorrow's afternoon snack is celery with hummus. Would be perfect if Mom hadn't insisted on red pepper hummus because she doesn't like the plain stuff. (And there was no way I was going to be able to talk her into buying the garlic lovers' variety...SAD FACE!)
Later skaters....
Just so you know, there are going to be twelve more days of bitching and whining until Phase 1 is over and I can eat fruit and bread again.
I have decided that sharing menu planning with my mother is going to turn the next two weeks into an exercise in just shoving things into my mouth, chewing, then swallowing regardless of the taste. I don't like raw tomatoes, asparagus has to be eaten with something else, as do squash and zucchini, and the edamame we bought is atrocious. I am also leery of radishes since it's been a long time since I tried one (and didn't like it the last time around). Blue cheese reminds me of stinky feet and tastes too salty. Mom likes all of these things. On the other hand, I love onions and all colors of bell peppers (especially orange), and I prefer TONS of garlic when a recipe calls for it. Mom...not so much. We're making it work though.
The pork chops tonight turned out excellent. That's a recipe I'm going to keep. Soy sauce, garlic, paprika, black pepper, and a teensy dash of salt. So lovely. Surprisingly so.
Since Shelby and Dad are in Kansas the puppies sleep in my room on nights when Mom works the next day. They're cute once they finally bed down (they both spoon, and Vivian is an expert at it), but the amount of carnage and noise beforehand is a bit tiresome. Right now Viv is trying to figure out a way to get up on my dresser.
The puppies are also very fond of attacking me whenever one of the Wii Fit exercises require me to lay down. Today Vivian jumped on my face in an attempt to get at my hands whilst I was doing jackknifes. She managed to perfectly plant her front paws on my eyeballs. Nice.
Anyway. Tomorrow promises to be a school work marathon. Excitement abounding.
Good news though...tomorrow's afternoon snack is celery with hummus. Would be perfect if Mom hadn't insisted on red pepper hummus because she doesn't like the plain stuff. (And there was no way I was going to be able to talk her into buying the garlic lovers' variety...SAD FACE!)
Later skaters....
Saturday, August 08, 2009
Because I need every bit of motivation I can get...
I've been home for 42 days. At least, I've had a profile on my mom's Wii Fit for 42 days. And in that time, I've managed to gain back ten pounds, most of which has taken up residence around my midsection. Awesome.
Rather than revert to the less-than-nutritionally-sound rice and oatmeal diet, I finally talked Mom into starting South Beach Diet again. Today was day one.
You should see the amount of vegetables crammed into our fridge. Mom and I went a little crazy at Henry's last night. It was fantastic. I got a new tote too. I am really looking forward to eating all that produce. Except for the squash.
But since a diet is essentially telling me what to do, I'm going to have issues with motivation and focus. Which is where the blog comes in. Figure if I write a little something about my progress every day, I'll be that much more likely to stick with it. Whether or not that makes sense...don't care.
Plus I'm going to keep myself busy with various things. Today was occupied by scanning and uploading the incriminating old photos I found the other day when I went for a wander through my boxes in the garage. First up are high school dance pictures. More will follow. You've been warned.
I tried to give my car a good bath yesterday since he behaved himself at the doctor and got better, but he's so dirty I think I'm going to have to pay somebody to do it. Sucks.
Thankfully the diet still allows tea. Provided it's 1% milk that's mixed in.
I'm going to play Total War now until the hunger pangs subside enough for sleep.
Yeah. Except the real story is that I'm going to play Total War so the TW withdrawals subside enough for sleep. I am such a goob.
Rather than revert to the less-than-nutritionally-sound rice and oatmeal diet, I finally talked Mom into starting South Beach Diet again. Today was day one.
You should see the amount of vegetables crammed into our fridge. Mom and I went a little crazy at Henry's last night. It was fantastic. I got a new tote too. I am really looking forward to eating all that produce. Except for the squash.
But since a diet is essentially telling me what to do, I'm going to have issues with motivation and focus. Which is where the blog comes in. Figure if I write a little something about my progress every day, I'll be that much more likely to stick with it. Whether or not that makes sense...don't care.
Plus I'm going to keep myself busy with various things. Today was occupied by scanning and uploading the incriminating old photos I found the other day when I went for a wander through my boxes in the garage. First up are high school dance pictures. More will follow. You've been warned.
I tried to give my car a good bath yesterday since he behaved himself at the doctor and got better, but he's so dirty I think I'm going to have to pay somebody to do it. Sucks.
Thankfully the diet still allows tea. Provided it's 1% milk that's mixed in.
I'm going to play Total War now until the hunger pangs subside enough for sleep.
Yeah. Except the real story is that I'm going to play Total War so the TW withdrawals subside enough for sleep. I am such a goob.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
New Kids on the Block.
Although my mother bought me a Joey McIntyre Ken doll, my heart was always with Jon. He was the oldest one of the group, didn't get into the spotlight as much as the others, and was one of my first celebrity crushes.
Although I did sort of go all gooey whenever li'l Joey sang "Please Don't Go Girl". But that's neither here nor there.
I also had a bitchin' pink NKOTB sweater and a pink NKOTB mug. There were also tons of NKOTB trading cards strewn everywhere, each with a photo on the front of one of the guys or a group shot, and a little trivia bit on the back. I asked for the bed linen set every Christmas, but Santa never saw fit to hook a homegirl up.
Anyway. All this was going on when I was about six or seven. I desperately wanted to go to a concert, but for some reason my mom was not interested in sitting through a New Kids' concert in order to fulfill her eldest child's most fervent dreams. Go figure.
But by the time Free Willy came out in 1993, I was too old for all the NKOTB fuss, as I had reached the august age of 11. They had a song on the soundtrack, and I remember laughing at them trying to have a comeback. And at any rate, the Michael Jackson song from that movie was waaaaaaaaay more entertaining to make fun of.
After that, I got into just about every other type of music. I kept up with boy bands too, but this time in secret as I was already in high school by the time *NSYNC showed up. Then, sometime around turning 21, I decided to go on ebay to re-capture my late-80s childhood and bought some old CDs. Including the NKOTB albums Hanging Tough and Step by Step. And a bitchin' fringed suede coat. But that didn't really have anything to do with my childhood. Just another ebay misstep.
I transferred the New Kids to my iPod once I got one, and a couple of the songs still got the odd bit of airplay here and there, but mostly just when I needed a laugh. But they were always there.
And then, towards the end of the summer last year, whilst watching late night music videos at the Brockley house, my world was upended.
NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK HAD A NEW SINGLE OUT?!?!?!?!
I shushed everyone in the room (who had no idea how I could possibly be so excited about what appeared to be an aging boy band), and watched the terrible video for "Summertime" with wide eyes and a big grin. Because where there's a single, there's a reunion, and where there's a reunion, there's a tour.
Maybe now I'd get my chance to see them.
Oh but wait! Would the guys be touring outside the US?
Sure enough, they were scheduled to play at the O2 Arena in London, but try as I might, I couldn't talk a single one of my London friends into going with me. Plus...I was broke and homeless.
It looked like I was going to miss yet another chance to see NKOTB perform live.
And then I came home for the summer. And my mom happened to see that she could get tickets to their concert at the local Verizon Wireless Amphitheater for ten bucks.
So tonight, Shelby and I prepared ourselves for a night of nostalgia.
First and foremost, I have to say how much I like going to see concerts at Verizon. It's a decent size with 16,000 seats (about 5,000 of which are in the lawn section), but it seems like it's much smaller. To put it in perspective, the Hollywood Bowl only has about a thousand more seats, but the folks on stage look positively tiny from the cheap seats, versus at Verizon where you can still sort of make out the footwork for the dance routines. Plus, Verizon is a twenty-minute drive on surface streets from my parents' house, so getting home is never an ordeal. The parking lot is pretty good for tailgating too.
Jesse McCartney was the opening act, which wasn't really all that exciting for me since I don't know any of his music and only know of him at all because A) he's the younger brother of that guy from Backstreet Boys, and B) he used to be on this silly show called Summerland that happened to be a guilty pleasure of mine. Shelby has decided he's hot, or will be once he gets a little bit older. Side bit of trivia about Mr. McCartney: he co-wrote that ubiquitous song of Leona Lewis's, "Bleeding Love". Gross.
After sneaking into a lightly-populated mens room (the lines for the womens bathroom were horrendous as always), Shibbs and I waited for NKOTB to come on. Thankfully, the group of six-year-olds who were next to us (and dancing a little too provocatively to Jesse McCartney) moved seats when they opened up the Loge area to everyone, so Shelby and I felt ready to dance out all of our excitement once they started playing the old jams.
And they played 'em all. From "Right Stuff" to "Cover Girl" and "Step by Step", they ticked all the boxes. Their new stuff just sounds like all the other stuff that's on the radio, but seeing slightly-raunchy choreographed routines done by a bunch of guys who were all born in either 1968 or 1969 (with the exception of young 'un Joey who was born in '72) made up for it.
But.
We felt robbed. Twice.
First: Jordan Knight came out after Donnie Wahlberg did "Cover Girl" all by himself (which made me fall a little bit in love with him, especially when he brought this little girl up on stage to dance with him...but more on why I now kinda love Donnie in a little bit). Jordan Knight proceeded to tease the audience with a slow-tempo version of "Give It To You". Shelby and I both waited for him to drop the beat and pick the tempo up, but it never happened. We were both struck down by what equates to dancing blue balls for the next couple of songs. Which wound up working out since they were both just solos by Joey McIntyre. Although I will say that while he no longer does the falsetto that I loved so much the first time around (probably because he's no longer pre-pubescent), I do sorta like his voice now.
Second: "Hanging Tough" was, predictably, their last song. I'd been waiting all night to hear it, and, MORE IMPORTANTLY, see them "get on the floor and do the New Kids Dance". But when the moment came...THEY DIDN'T DO THE NEW KIDS DANCE! Now, you need to understand that they'd been doing the old choreography for most of the old songs. And that made me even more upset when they bypassed doing the Dance for "Hanging Tough". And I was all ready to do it right along with them. But no. For whatever reason they opted out. Jerks.
But overall...I was sufficiently rocked. And Shelby and I had a good time boogie-ing up in the cheap seats.
Now. Back to my new crush on Donnie Wahlberg. He, Jordan Knight, and Joey McIntyre are the only ones that have stayed recognizable in show business. Danny Woods is still in the business, but more behind-the-scenes, and Jon Knight left it completely (due to an onset of crippling panic attacks which he's since gotten a handle on). But even if you didn't know any of that, you would've been able to tell just by watching them on stage. Especially Donnie. All of them have stage presence, to be sure, but Jordan, Joey, and Donnie, especially Donnie, have it in spades. And the three of them also seemed genuinely happy to be up there.
Which just makes me feel better about the whole thing. It's nice to go to a show and see that the performer/s are getting just a big a kick out of it as you are. Yes, they've rehearsed it all a million times and performed it a million more, but the concerts I've really enjoyed have been the ones where the folks up on stage look like they're having a blast. Although oddly, right now off the top of my head, the only concert I've been to where the performers looked like they were just going through the motions for the paycheck were KC and the Sunshine Band. Consider the source on that one, I suppose.
Anyway, I'm further amused by my newfound crush on Donnie because I hated him back when I was a kid. Wasn't a fan of bad boys back then. Plus, I seem to recall him having gross long hair back then. Wasn't a fan of long hair back then either.
And now I have a puppy giving me looks that seem to imply it's past both our bedtimes, so I'm going to have to end here. If I think of anything else, I'll post it tomorrow. But for now, I'm going to curl up in my new NKOTB concert t-shirt and have wonderful nostalgic dreams.
OH!
Before I forget: Joey totally wore that hat-without-a-top he used to wear. Giggles.
Although I did sort of go all gooey whenever li'l Joey sang "Please Don't Go Girl". But that's neither here nor there.
I also had a bitchin' pink NKOTB sweater and a pink NKOTB mug. There were also tons of NKOTB trading cards strewn everywhere, each with a photo on the front of one of the guys or a group shot, and a little trivia bit on the back. I asked for the bed linen set every Christmas, but Santa never saw fit to hook a homegirl up.
Anyway. All this was going on when I was about six or seven. I desperately wanted to go to a concert, but for some reason my mom was not interested in sitting through a New Kids' concert in order to fulfill her eldest child's most fervent dreams. Go figure.
But by the time Free Willy came out in 1993, I was too old for all the NKOTB fuss, as I had reached the august age of 11. They had a song on the soundtrack, and I remember laughing at them trying to have a comeback. And at any rate, the Michael Jackson song from that movie was waaaaaaaaay more entertaining to make fun of.
After that, I got into just about every other type of music. I kept up with boy bands too, but this time in secret as I was already in high school by the time *NSYNC showed up. Then, sometime around turning 21, I decided to go on ebay to re-capture my late-80s childhood and bought some old CDs. Including the NKOTB albums Hanging Tough and Step by Step. And a bitchin' fringed suede coat. But that didn't really have anything to do with my childhood. Just another ebay misstep.
I transferred the New Kids to my iPod once I got one, and a couple of the songs still got the odd bit of airplay here and there, but mostly just when I needed a laugh. But they were always there.
And then, towards the end of the summer last year, whilst watching late night music videos at the Brockley house, my world was upended.
NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK HAD A NEW SINGLE OUT?!?!?!?!
I shushed everyone in the room (who had no idea how I could possibly be so excited about what appeared to be an aging boy band), and watched the terrible video for "Summertime" with wide eyes and a big grin. Because where there's a single, there's a reunion, and where there's a reunion, there's a tour.
Maybe now I'd get my chance to see them.
Oh but wait! Would the guys be touring outside the US?
Sure enough, they were scheduled to play at the O2 Arena in London, but try as I might, I couldn't talk a single one of my London friends into going with me. Plus...I was broke and homeless.
It looked like I was going to miss yet another chance to see NKOTB perform live.
And then I came home for the summer. And my mom happened to see that she could get tickets to their concert at the local Verizon Wireless Amphitheater for ten bucks.
So tonight, Shelby and I prepared ourselves for a night of nostalgia.
First and foremost, I have to say how much I like going to see concerts at Verizon. It's a decent size with 16,000 seats (about 5,000 of which are in the lawn section), but it seems like it's much smaller. To put it in perspective, the Hollywood Bowl only has about a thousand more seats, but the folks on stage look positively tiny from the cheap seats, versus at Verizon where you can still sort of make out the footwork for the dance routines. Plus, Verizon is a twenty-minute drive on surface streets from my parents' house, so getting home is never an ordeal. The parking lot is pretty good for tailgating too.
Jesse McCartney was the opening act, which wasn't really all that exciting for me since I don't know any of his music and only know of him at all because A) he's the younger brother of that guy from Backstreet Boys, and B) he used to be on this silly show called Summerland that happened to be a guilty pleasure of mine. Shelby has decided he's hot, or will be once he gets a little bit older. Side bit of trivia about Mr. McCartney: he co-wrote that ubiquitous song of Leona Lewis's, "Bleeding Love". Gross.
After sneaking into a lightly-populated mens room (the lines for the womens bathroom were horrendous as always), Shibbs and I waited for NKOTB to come on. Thankfully, the group of six-year-olds who were next to us (and dancing a little too provocatively to Jesse McCartney) moved seats when they opened up the Loge area to everyone, so Shelby and I felt ready to dance out all of our excitement once they started playing the old jams.
And they played 'em all. From "Right Stuff" to "Cover Girl" and "Step by Step", they ticked all the boxes. Their new stuff just sounds like all the other stuff that's on the radio, but seeing slightly-raunchy choreographed routines done by a bunch of guys who were all born in either 1968 or 1969 (with the exception of young 'un Joey who was born in '72) made up for it.
But.
We felt robbed. Twice.
First: Jordan Knight came out after Donnie Wahlberg did "Cover Girl" all by himself (which made me fall a little bit in love with him, especially when he brought this little girl up on stage to dance with him...but more on why I now kinda love Donnie in a little bit). Jordan Knight proceeded to tease the audience with a slow-tempo version of "Give It To You". Shelby and I both waited for him to drop the beat and pick the tempo up, but it never happened. We were both struck down by what equates to dancing blue balls for the next couple of songs. Which wound up working out since they were both just solos by Joey McIntyre. Although I will say that while he no longer does the falsetto that I loved so much the first time around (probably because he's no longer pre-pubescent), I do sorta like his voice now.
Second: "Hanging Tough" was, predictably, their last song. I'd been waiting all night to hear it, and, MORE IMPORTANTLY, see them "get on the floor and do the New Kids Dance". But when the moment came...THEY DIDN'T DO THE NEW KIDS DANCE! Now, you need to understand that they'd been doing the old choreography for most of the old songs. And that made me even more upset when they bypassed doing the Dance for "Hanging Tough". And I was all ready to do it right along with them. But no. For whatever reason they opted out. Jerks.
But overall...I was sufficiently rocked. And Shelby and I had a good time boogie-ing up in the cheap seats.
Now. Back to my new crush on Donnie Wahlberg. He, Jordan Knight, and Joey McIntyre are the only ones that have stayed recognizable in show business. Danny Woods is still in the business, but more behind-the-scenes, and Jon Knight left it completely (due to an onset of crippling panic attacks which he's since gotten a handle on). But even if you didn't know any of that, you would've been able to tell just by watching them on stage. Especially Donnie. All of them have stage presence, to be sure, but Jordan, Joey, and Donnie, especially Donnie, have it in spades. And the three of them also seemed genuinely happy to be up there.
Which just makes me feel better about the whole thing. It's nice to go to a show and see that the performer/s are getting just a big a kick out of it as you are. Yes, they've rehearsed it all a million times and performed it a million more, but the concerts I've really enjoyed have been the ones where the folks up on stage look like they're having a blast. Although oddly, right now off the top of my head, the only concert I've been to where the performers looked like they were just going through the motions for the paycheck were KC and the Sunshine Band. Consider the source on that one, I suppose.
Anyway, I'm further amused by my newfound crush on Donnie because I hated him back when I was a kid. Wasn't a fan of bad boys back then. Plus, I seem to recall him having gross long hair back then. Wasn't a fan of long hair back then either.
And now I have a puppy giving me looks that seem to imply it's past both our bedtimes, so I'm going to have to end here. If I think of anything else, I'll post it tomorrow. But for now, I'm going to curl up in my new NKOTB concert t-shirt and have wonderful nostalgic dreams.
OH!
Before I forget: Joey totally wore that hat-without-a-top he used to wear. Giggles.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Baking obsession!
So. I've got tons of time on my hands these days, and I'm currently recovering from two weeks of being sans computer. It was painful. I played a lot of Wii and watched way too many episodes of Top Gear. I ran out of things to clean in the kitchen. I got my cross-stitching out. It was scary.
But. Something wonderful has come out of all this time spent cooped up in the house. I started baking bread. And subsequently have become slightly obsessed with it.
This was not my first foray in to the yeasty fun that is making one's own bread. The first loaves of bread I ever baked came about because I wanted a ham sandwich but was too lazy to drive my car up to the grocery store. So I opted to delay the toast by a few hours in order to make my own bread. Just a plain loaf of white bread. It was okay. After that I got into honey wheat and pumpkin breads, and I found a novel recipe that produced loaves shaped like teddy bears. But I had a job (and was possibly also going to school at that time), so the amount of time required to make these loaves quickly negated any novelty derived from making my own bread (teddy bear-shaped or not). I had also steered clear of recipes that called for starters, both out of impatience and unfamiliarity.
This was all about five years ago, when I was still temping for Sole Tech (and before I got hired on permanently). I made a loaf or two last fall, but up until recently, I'd been more concerned with perfecting my recipes for cheesecake, tortillas, oatmeal cookies, and shortbread. There's still a little bit of work to be done with shortbread, but I think I've got the other three down. Even if I'm forced to make tortillas for fussy vegetarians who won't let me use lard to make them. Anyway. Needless to say, really teaching myself to make bread hasn't quite been at the forefront of my baking concerns.
And then the power cord on my computer went kaput. School's out, can't find a job, and now have no way to entertain myself whilst cloistered up in my room. Which meant I had to venture downstairs. But after a day or two I felt like I needed to do something besides stare vacantly at the television and giggle at the antics of my housemates. More importantly, I ran out of bread before I ran out of eggs. I have developed a bit of an addiction to poached eggs on toast. So nice at any time of day.
So with all that time on my hands and appropriately armed with flour and yeast, I set about making some bread. The first try was white bread, which is nice, but I've never really liked white bread. So the next trip to the grocery store turned into a flour expedition. I was still wary of strong bread flour, thinking it would make really tough loaves, not the fluffy sandwich bread I was after, so I settled with whole wheat flour. The wheat loaves were okay, but I made a mistake when I decided to add molasses and honey to the dough. Nice as toast, but too sweet for much else. Then I tried to make oatmeal bread, which also turned out okay, but I overcooked it and it was a little too dry for my liking.
All this was done with the aid of my Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, which also happens to be my kitchen bible. It's got sections of recipes for everything from bread to cookies to meat to canning and freezing. One of these days I'm going to sit down and read the thing cover to cover because there are a lot of sections I haven't had cause to look at yet. More often than not, if I'm working from a recipe, the recipe is from that book. It's fantastic. The only downside is that it doesn't really explain its method. Luckily for me, I've got both of Alton Brown's cookbooks, which do go into the whithertos and whyfores of the processes of cooking and baking. And since my bread endeavors weren't really producing the kinds of loaves I was after, I figured I needed to read up on Alton and what he had to say about bread making. And to be sure, he was helpful, but I felt like I was still missing something.
There was only one more place for me to go before launching myself onto the internet in search of a bread-making how-to: Julia Child's The Way To Cook. And with that, my bread-making turned a corner. Unsure as to how everything would turn out, I tried my hand at her french bread recipe one night.
It. Was. Glorious. I actually danced around the kitchen. My housemate looked at me funny, but only for as long as it took him to try a bite.
And even more so than before, I was hooked. So now instead of spending 30p on a loaf of Sainsburys Basics bread, I spend 79p on a bag of strong bread flour and make half a dozen baguettes. The only constraint on my baguette production is the small oven I have to work with (and the fact that I'm certain the temperature gauge is lying to me). Armed with what Julia has taught me about the rising process, I'm fairly certain I should be able to finagle my way into making lovely, light, fluffy sandwich bread. Tomorrow. I'd do it tonight, but I've spent too much time writing this and it's now a bit too late to devote the five hours it takes from start to finish.
***THIS IS A FRAGMENT***
...never did get around to finishing it, but here you go anyway...
But. Something wonderful has come out of all this time spent cooped up in the house. I started baking bread. And subsequently have become slightly obsessed with it.
This was not my first foray in to the yeasty fun that is making one's own bread. The first loaves of bread I ever baked came about because I wanted a ham sandwich but was too lazy to drive my car up to the grocery store. So I opted to delay the toast by a few hours in order to make my own bread. Just a plain loaf of white bread. It was okay. After that I got into honey wheat and pumpkin breads, and I found a novel recipe that produced loaves shaped like teddy bears. But I had a job (and was possibly also going to school at that time), so the amount of time required to make these loaves quickly negated any novelty derived from making my own bread (teddy bear-shaped or not). I had also steered clear of recipes that called for starters, both out of impatience and unfamiliarity.
This was all about five years ago, when I was still temping for Sole Tech (and before I got hired on permanently). I made a loaf or two last fall, but up until recently, I'd been more concerned with perfecting my recipes for cheesecake, tortillas, oatmeal cookies, and shortbread. There's still a little bit of work to be done with shortbread, but I think I've got the other three down. Even if I'm forced to make tortillas for fussy vegetarians who won't let me use lard to make them. Anyway. Needless to say, really teaching myself to make bread hasn't quite been at the forefront of my baking concerns.
And then the power cord on my computer went kaput. School's out, can't find a job, and now have no way to entertain myself whilst cloistered up in my room. Which meant I had to venture downstairs. But after a day or two I felt like I needed to do something besides stare vacantly at the television and giggle at the antics of my housemates. More importantly, I ran out of bread before I ran out of eggs. I have developed a bit of an addiction to poached eggs on toast. So nice at any time of day.
So with all that time on my hands and appropriately armed with flour and yeast, I set about making some bread. The first try was white bread, which is nice, but I've never really liked white bread. So the next trip to the grocery store turned into a flour expedition. I was still wary of strong bread flour, thinking it would make really tough loaves, not the fluffy sandwich bread I was after, so I settled with whole wheat flour. The wheat loaves were okay, but I made a mistake when I decided to add molasses and honey to the dough. Nice as toast, but too sweet for much else. Then I tried to make oatmeal bread, which also turned out okay, but I overcooked it and it was a little too dry for my liking.
All this was done with the aid of my Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, which also happens to be my kitchen bible. It's got sections of recipes for everything from bread to cookies to meat to canning and freezing. One of these days I'm going to sit down and read the thing cover to cover because there are a lot of sections I haven't had cause to look at yet. More often than not, if I'm working from a recipe, the recipe is from that book. It's fantastic. The only downside is that it doesn't really explain its method. Luckily for me, I've got both of Alton Brown's cookbooks, which do go into the whithertos and whyfores of the processes of cooking and baking. And since my bread endeavors weren't really producing the kinds of loaves I was after, I figured I needed to read up on Alton and what he had to say about bread making. And to be sure, he was helpful, but I felt like I was still missing something.
There was only one more place for me to go before launching myself onto the internet in search of a bread-making how-to: Julia Child's The Way To Cook. And with that, my bread-making turned a corner. Unsure as to how everything would turn out, I tried my hand at her french bread recipe one night.
It. Was. Glorious. I actually danced around the kitchen. My housemate looked at me funny, but only for as long as it took him to try a bite.
And even more so than before, I was hooked. So now instead of spending 30p on a loaf of Sainsburys Basics bread, I spend 79p on a bag of strong bread flour and make half a dozen baguettes. The only constraint on my baguette production is the small oven I have to work with (and the fact that I'm certain the temperature gauge is lying to me). Armed with what Julia has taught me about the rising process, I'm fairly certain I should be able to finagle my way into making lovely, light, fluffy sandwich bread. Tomorrow. I'd do it tonight, but I've spent too much time writing this and it's now a bit too late to devote the five hours it takes from start to finish.
***THIS IS A FRAGMENT***
...never did get around to finishing it, but here you go anyway...
Thursday, April 16, 2009
This is just an excuse to stay up all night and listen to the TimeLife Midnight Soul Collection....
It really is.
Well. I'm still getting back to London time. That's part of it.
But Midnight Soul! 144 slow jams! It's amazing! I wish I had more space on my computer. Or had a working iPod. Then I'd get the TimeLife Motown Collection too.
The internet has replaced books as my number one go-to timewaster. Makes me a little bit sad.
Anyway. I am jetlagged. Was up all night last night, took a couple naps during the day, and now might be on target for another all-nighter. Poo.
Why the jetlag? In the offhand chance that the few people that actually read this somehow missed out on me gabbing to them about my annual beach camping trip, I'll briefly explain the wonder and majesty that is Doheny.
Very briefly.
Basically, I go camping with my family every year at Doheny State Beach for at least a week. Sometimes more. There is another family that goes down too. There's a more of them than us, but everyone's known each other for a really long time. The entire trip centers around a horseshoe tournament on Palm Sunday. I haven't missed a year. EVER. It's something I look forward to year-round.
I usually invite everyone I know to come down and join us. This year my unsuspecting victim was Oli.
I tried to prepare him. Wrote out a Thomsen family tree and everything (did a pretty good job too, if I do say so). And to be fair, I think he's met more Thomsens than I have. By the end of the second day he was already familiar with most of the gossip. He managed to charm the crap out of my entire family, and I'm pretty sure my mom wants to adopt him.
I got to field lots of interesting questions about Oli. Mainly "He's really 19? Really? No way!", and "So what's the story, are you two dating or what?" A few were directed at sussing out his sexual preference, but I handled all queries with tact and diplomatic aplomb. Regardless of how much I'd had to drink.
Lots of fun was had. Tequila and Jagermeister and Newkie were beverage mainstays, and I ate enough to gain back ten of the pounds I'd lost subsisting on rice and oatmeal. Of course, since I spent most of my time lazing about either in the sun or in my tent, don't really expect that it was ten pounds of muscle. Oh well. It was a well-deserved stretch of gluttony. And everything tasted so much better because of the lack of variety I'd gotten used to. We went to CPK one day and the avocado club pizza almost made me cry it tasted so good. I know. I'm a goob about food.
I slept a lot. Not sure why. Well. I think it had something to do with sharing an air mattress. Damn thing moves every time you do, and I'm definitely not used to sharing an air mattress. Of course, if it is the case that I got horrible sleep because of sharing an air mattress, that means I'm no longer as heavy a sleeper as I used to be. Or maybe I'm still so stressed that I can't sleep as deeply as I used to. Suppose I'll just have to wait and see how I well I sleep after everything calms down.
It was a very quiet Doheny for us. We mostly kept to ourselves. It was a little weird. It was also strange that Grandpa wasn't there. They named the horseshoe tournament after him though. That was pretty rad.
I've still got a lot of things rattling around in my head, so I apologize if this seems disjointed. I may try to read myself to sleep in a little bit. Watched three movies last night. Not really in the mood to watch another one for a few days. Well. Depends on the movie.
Speaking of the movies I watched last night... Twilight is jokes. I think I've watched it six times in three weeks. Hilarity. It's good to knit to. It's full of ridiculous lines. He sparkles in sunlight. Too amusing for words. It's even better when you watch it with a friend who is prepared to cackle right along with you at all the stunted dialogue and horribly-done teenage awkwardness.
But let's not forget the fact that while he may look 17, he's really 90 or something. That makes the entire series gross. FACT. I have a few more bones to pick with the author, but I'll save that for another blog/rant.
I am still in the midst of a frantic job search. I can work full-time now that classes are over, but I'm hesitant to take an entry-level receptionist job because I don't think I'll get paid enough. Plus all the ads I've seen are looking for a receptionist/office bitch. For the peanuts they're paying, I'm not interested. I'm trying for some sort of logistics job, but I feel bad because I know I'm going to have to quit at the end of the summer. Or go part-time. But I suppose I'll deal with that once it actually becomes an issue.
I have an ungodly amount of nervous energy pent up. I know exactly why, but have yet to come up with a feasible way to get rid of it all. I truly detest being nervous. Especially around people who may know me well enough by now to recognize it.
I have finally come up with a book idea I might actually take the time to sit down and write. Maybe I'll start outlining that tonight instead of reading. Probably not.
Ah hell. I can't even ramble anymore. Time to figure out some way to put myself to sleep that doesn't involve Tylenol PM or Nyquil.
G'nite.
Well. I'm still getting back to London time. That's part of it.
But Midnight Soul! 144 slow jams! It's amazing! I wish I had more space on my computer. Or had a working iPod. Then I'd get the TimeLife Motown Collection too.
The internet has replaced books as my number one go-to timewaster. Makes me a little bit sad.
Anyway. I am jetlagged. Was up all night last night, took a couple naps during the day, and now might be on target for another all-nighter. Poo.
Why the jetlag? In the offhand chance that the few people that actually read this somehow missed out on me gabbing to them about my annual beach camping trip, I'll briefly explain the wonder and majesty that is Doheny.
Very briefly.
Basically, I go camping with my family every year at Doheny State Beach for at least a week. Sometimes more. There is another family that goes down too. There's a more of them than us, but everyone's known each other for a really long time. The entire trip centers around a horseshoe tournament on Palm Sunday. I haven't missed a year. EVER. It's something I look forward to year-round.
I usually invite everyone I know to come down and join us. This year my unsuspecting victim was Oli.
I tried to prepare him. Wrote out a Thomsen family tree and everything (did a pretty good job too, if I do say so). And to be fair, I think he's met more Thomsens than I have. By the end of the second day he was already familiar with most of the gossip. He managed to charm the crap out of my entire family, and I'm pretty sure my mom wants to adopt him.
I got to field lots of interesting questions about Oli. Mainly "He's really 19? Really? No way!", and "So what's the story, are you two dating or what?" A few were directed at sussing out his sexual preference, but I handled all queries with tact and diplomatic aplomb. Regardless of how much I'd had to drink.
Lots of fun was had. Tequila and Jagermeister and Newkie were beverage mainstays, and I ate enough to gain back ten of the pounds I'd lost subsisting on rice and oatmeal. Of course, since I spent most of my time lazing about either in the sun or in my tent, don't really expect that it was ten pounds of muscle. Oh well. It was a well-deserved stretch of gluttony. And everything tasted so much better because of the lack of variety I'd gotten used to. We went to CPK one day and the avocado club pizza almost made me cry it tasted so good. I know. I'm a goob about food.
I slept a lot. Not sure why. Well. I think it had something to do with sharing an air mattress. Damn thing moves every time you do, and I'm definitely not used to sharing an air mattress. Of course, if it is the case that I got horrible sleep because of sharing an air mattress, that means I'm no longer as heavy a sleeper as I used to be. Or maybe I'm still so stressed that I can't sleep as deeply as I used to. Suppose I'll just have to wait and see how I well I sleep after everything calms down.
It was a very quiet Doheny for us. We mostly kept to ourselves. It was a little weird. It was also strange that Grandpa wasn't there. They named the horseshoe tournament after him though. That was pretty rad.
I've still got a lot of things rattling around in my head, so I apologize if this seems disjointed. I may try to read myself to sleep in a little bit. Watched three movies last night. Not really in the mood to watch another one for a few days. Well. Depends on the movie.
Speaking of the movies I watched last night... Twilight is jokes. I think I've watched it six times in three weeks. Hilarity. It's good to knit to. It's full of ridiculous lines. He sparkles in sunlight. Too amusing for words. It's even better when you watch it with a friend who is prepared to cackle right along with you at all the stunted dialogue and horribly-done teenage awkwardness.
But let's not forget the fact that while he may look 17, he's really 90 or something. That makes the entire series gross. FACT. I have a few more bones to pick with the author, but I'll save that for another blog/rant.
I am still in the midst of a frantic job search. I can work full-time now that classes are over, but I'm hesitant to take an entry-level receptionist job because I don't think I'll get paid enough. Plus all the ads I've seen are looking for a receptionist/office bitch. For the peanuts they're paying, I'm not interested. I'm trying for some sort of logistics job, but I feel bad because I know I'm going to have to quit at the end of the summer. Or go part-time. But I suppose I'll deal with that once it actually becomes an issue.
I have an ungodly amount of nervous energy pent up. I know exactly why, but have yet to come up with a feasible way to get rid of it all. I truly detest being nervous. Especially around people who may know me well enough by now to recognize it.
I have finally come up with a book idea I might actually take the time to sit down and write. Maybe I'll start outlining that tonight instead of reading. Probably not.
Ah hell. I can't even ramble anymore. Time to figure out some way to put myself to sleep that doesn't involve Tylenol PM or Nyquil.
G'nite.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
I'm still here.....
So. It's been over two months since I last posted anything. Whoops.
My life during that gap has been... interesting. Not everybody gets to run through the gamut of human emotion on a daily basis, so I figure I'm lucky. Or something.
I am currently hobbling around like an old woman. Lesson learned: never push yourself too hard on the inner thigh workout machines. Groin muscles are able to exact a particular sort of immobilizing excruciating pain that cannot be ignored.
So what do you do when you're unable to do much more than curl up in the fetal position on the mattress on the floor of the dining room that has been your makeshift room for going on six months? Watch movies you've downloaded but not gotten a chance to watch yet.
Starting with Say Anything.
I sorta want my own Lloyd Dobler. Well. Yes and no. I get the feeling he's just a tad bit on the "too sensitive" side and would ultimately get on my nerves. It would nice to pal around with him for a few months at the very least.
John Cusack is one of the few actors who have been solidly typecast over the years that don't get on my nerves. I think it's the oddly attractive, pointy-chinned face coupled with the mildly snarky wit that is delivered in such a manner as to seem both rushed and hesitant at the same time. Yep. That's it. I'm drawn to contradictions. John Cusack crush = explained.
Then I watched Twilight.
First and foremost, like many other people, I have a little thing for the idea of vampires. I wouldn't want to be one (although it would be totally bitchin' to live forever) because I couldn't handle not being able to sit in the sun (although if I were a Twilight vampire I could... hmmmm). However, being seduced by a vampire might be very fun indeed. This fascination with vampire seduction is one of the reasons I decided to watch this silly movie. That, and the lead guy is kinda hot. In a brooding, blood-sucking, soulless, undead monster with too much white foundation sort of way.
I was expecting crap, and I got it in spades. I can already guess at a few things that are going to happen in upcoming movies. I laughed at the casting choice for the dad vampire, and at all the bad blonde dye jobs/white face makeup. I laughed at the random indigenous people warnings. I laughed at the crap dialogue.
I pretty much spent the entire movie laughing.
But. I did enjoy a couple of the seduction scenes. Even if they were super creepytown pedophilia because whilst he may look 17, he sure as hell is a lot older.
Now we're going to watch Pineapple Express. Should be better.....
My life during that gap has been... interesting. Not everybody gets to run through the gamut of human emotion on a daily basis, so I figure I'm lucky. Or something.
I am currently hobbling around like an old woman. Lesson learned: never push yourself too hard on the inner thigh workout machines. Groin muscles are able to exact a particular sort of immobilizing excruciating pain that cannot be ignored.
So what do you do when you're unable to do much more than curl up in the fetal position on the mattress on the floor of the dining room that has been your makeshift room for going on six months? Watch movies you've downloaded but not gotten a chance to watch yet.
Starting with Say Anything.
I sorta want my own Lloyd Dobler. Well. Yes and no. I get the feeling he's just a tad bit on the "too sensitive" side and would ultimately get on my nerves. It would nice to pal around with him for a few months at the very least.
John Cusack is one of the few actors who have been solidly typecast over the years that don't get on my nerves. I think it's the oddly attractive, pointy-chinned face coupled with the mildly snarky wit that is delivered in such a manner as to seem both rushed and hesitant at the same time. Yep. That's it. I'm drawn to contradictions. John Cusack crush = explained.
Then I watched Twilight.
First and foremost, like many other people, I have a little thing for the idea of vampires. I wouldn't want to be one (although it would be totally bitchin' to live forever) because I couldn't handle not being able to sit in the sun (although if I were a Twilight vampire I could... hmmmm). However, being seduced by a vampire might be very fun indeed. This fascination with vampire seduction is one of the reasons I decided to watch this silly movie. That, and the lead guy is kinda hot. In a brooding, blood-sucking, soulless, undead monster with too much white foundation sort of way.
I was expecting crap, and I got it in spades. I can already guess at a few things that are going to happen in upcoming movies. I laughed at the casting choice for the dad vampire, and at all the bad blonde dye jobs/white face makeup. I laughed at the random indigenous people warnings. I laughed at the crap dialogue.
I pretty much spent the entire movie laughing.
But. I did enjoy a couple of the seduction scenes. Even if they were super creepytown pedophilia because whilst he may look 17, he sure as hell is a lot older.
Now we're going to watch Pineapple Express. Should be better.....
Sunday, January 04, 2009
New year, new post, new title....
Let me start by saying I should know better than to turn on a Degrassi marathon late at night. Even though I've already most of the season they're showing tonight and still remember all the plot twists.
For those of you who've ever watched any episodes, Craig is about to have that massive manic episode and wreck the hotel room he got with the credit card he stole out of his foster dad's wallet. All over stupid Ashley who has an ugly nose. At least JT is still alive in this season.
Anyway. Most of you know already, but I got fired from the nannying job. Hence the new blog title. I also got fired from my job at the Clink Museum because I called in sick. The tutoring gig is up at the end of January after the girl gets done with her exams. Not sure if I'm going to actually get paid for the peer mentoring thing. So yeah. I'm unemployed.
And of course, losing the nanny job meant that I'd also lost my place to live, but thanks to the awesomeness of all the folks at Knelly Road, I have a crack den to sleep in. Not literally, of course. They've been letting me crash on a mattress on their dining room floor until I can get things re-sorted. Right now my "things to re-sort" list include my current unemployed status as well as my crack den occupancy. Not that I don't love living with the Brockers crew, I just don't want to impose for any longer than I have to.
Side note: I might actually get to hear Emma declare "You gave me a social disease!" in an episode or two. Awesome.
Then, a week before Thanksgiving I got a call from my mom letting me know my grandpa was in the hospital on life support. I caught a flight home the next day. He passed away the day after.
Needless to say, the tail end of 2008 was pretty difficult. Actually, most of 2008 was pretty difficult. Oh well. It's 2009 now.
And hey, we rang it in with style. Lordy. Did we ever. As always, pictures are on facebook.
Tried to start off the new year on the right foot. Made damn good breakfast for the hungover bodies scattered around the family room in my grandma's house. Then the remaining alcohol and the fried eggs wore off and I spent a little time curled up feeling particularly sorry for myself. Bit of a strike one.
Grandma came back from Albuquerque the next day (January 2nd for anyone not keeping track). Picked her up from the airport around one, got back about two, she spent some time opening mail, then she climbed into bed for a bit. Round about five we decided to go to Marie Callendar's for soup and pie. Halfway through her soup, Grandma announced she was too nauseous to eat. We hustled out of there. Got worse after we got home. Chest pain too. So we went to the emergency room. Despite getting her admitted right away, they weren't any beds in the regular hospital so she spent the night in the emergency room. I stayed until about 2:45, went back to her house, slept for a few hours, then went back. Seems like she's doing much better, but because her normal cardiologist isn't around this weekend, they're keeping her in the hospital until he can see her on Monday.
So now I'm watching Degrassi and marvelling at how disproportionately huge Paige's nose is. Things would be a whole lot tougher if I weren't so easily amused.
All I gotta say is that 2009 better not continue this behavior. It's unacceptable.
I've never been much of a morning person. Ever since I got out of high school I've become more and more of a night owl. My family doesn't really keep the same hours I do, so I've had quite a few late nights spent alone, watching Arrested Development with the closed captioning on so I can keep the volume turned down low. And knitting. So I've probably spent far more time I should in an introspective state. And I've completely forgotten where I was going with this. Another side effect of spending all that alone time.
Anyway. I'm starting to bore myself. Emma is about to get gonorrhea of the mouth from Jay. That's way more exciting. However... JT and Liberty being in a relationship is just gross.
I'm excited to go back to London. I'm starting to feel mostly useless here in California. I definitely don't like feeling useless. However there are saltine crackers in California. And Weinerschnitzel corndogs.
But my girls are in London. And my boys. And they are way better than saltines and corndogs.
For those of you who've ever watched any episodes, Craig is about to have that massive manic episode and wreck the hotel room he got with the credit card he stole out of his foster dad's wallet. All over stupid Ashley who has an ugly nose. At least JT is still alive in this season.
Anyway. Most of you know already, but I got fired from the nannying job. Hence the new blog title. I also got fired from my job at the Clink Museum because I called in sick. The tutoring gig is up at the end of January after the girl gets done with her exams. Not sure if I'm going to actually get paid for the peer mentoring thing. So yeah. I'm unemployed.
And of course, losing the nanny job meant that I'd also lost my place to live, but thanks to the awesomeness of all the folks at Knelly Road, I have a crack den to sleep in. Not literally, of course. They've been letting me crash on a mattress on their dining room floor until I can get things re-sorted. Right now my "things to re-sort" list include my current unemployed status as well as my crack den occupancy. Not that I don't love living with the Brockers crew, I just don't want to impose for any longer than I have to.
Side note: I might actually get to hear Emma declare "You gave me a social disease!" in an episode or two. Awesome.
Then, a week before Thanksgiving I got a call from my mom letting me know my grandpa was in the hospital on life support. I caught a flight home the next day. He passed away the day after.
Needless to say, the tail end of 2008 was pretty difficult. Actually, most of 2008 was pretty difficult. Oh well. It's 2009 now.
And hey, we rang it in with style. Lordy. Did we ever. As always, pictures are on facebook.
Tried to start off the new year on the right foot. Made damn good breakfast for the hungover bodies scattered around the family room in my grandma's house. Then the remaining alcohol and the fried eggs wore off and I spent a little time curled up feeling particularly sorry for myself. Bit of a strike one.
Grandma came back from Albuquerque the next day (January 2nd for anyone not keeping track). Picked her up from the airport around one, got back about two, she spent some time opening mail, then she climbed into bed for a bit. Round about five we decided to go to Marie Callendar's for soup and pie. Halfway through her soup, Grandma announced she was too nauseous to eat. We hustled out of there. Got worse after we got home. Chest pain too. So we went to the emergency room. Despite getting her admitted right away, they weren't any beds in the regular hospital so she spent the night in the emergency room. I stayed until about 2:45, went back to her house, slept for a few hours, then went back. Seems like she's doing much better, but because her normal cardiologist isn't around this weekend, they're keeping her in the hospital until he can see her on Monday.
So now I'm watching Degrassi and marvelling at how disproportionately huge Paige's nose is. Things would be a whole lot tougher if I weren't so easily amused.
All I gotta say is that 2009 better not continue this behavior. It's unacceptable.
I've never been much of a morning person. Ever since I got out of high school I've become more and more of a night owl. My family doesn't really keep the same hours I do, so I've had quite a few late nights spent alone, watching Arrested Development with the closed captioning on so I can keep the volume turned down low. And knitting. So I've probably spent far more time I should in an introspective state. And I've completely forgotten where I was going with this. Another side effect of spending all that alone time.
Anyway. I'm starting to bore myself. Emma is about to get gonorrhea of the mouth from Jay. That's way more exciting. However... JT and Liberty being in a relationship is just gross.
I'm excited to go back to London. I'm starting to feel mostly useless here in California. I definitely don't like feeling useless. However there are saltine crackers in California. And Weinerschnitzel corndogs.
But my girls are in London. And my boys. And they are way better than saltines and corndogs.
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