January 2008


Check me out today!  My hours (days, really) of research led me to my new favorite blog, from Michael Showalter.  I like his doodle of the baby Pope.

The above photo is my new smart garden.  Ask me about it so I can gush about science. 

1) Richard and I watched Shoot ‘Em Up the other night.  I have watched millions of bad Clive Owen movies, mainly because he’s only made, like, three good movies.  SEU wasn’t good, it wasn’t bad, it was just . . . unexplainable.  Overall, I really liked it.  It was outrageous and funny.  And violent.

2) Susan asked me whether it was spelled “mustache” or “moustache.”  I looked it up in my handy pocket dictionary, in which the definition of moustache is “mustache.”  Websters does confirm that it is a noun.

3) I was only joking about the dead mouse in the crock pot.  That would involve me actually picking up a live mouse, which I am unlikely to do.

4) I am working at a different location today.  I have worked in a half dozen buildings throughout my years here at my current job and every single women’s bathroom has a sign posted that reminds people not to pee on the seat (usually with a rhyme to get people to remember it better, I guess).

5)  Last night I made chicken strips first dipped in melted butter and Dijon mustard, then in panko and parmesan.  It was delicious.  I applaud you, panko.  It’s my current bread crumb of choice.

I have given into pressure at work and am currently using my crock pot all the time.  Before this I have used it three times: for mulled cider, chicken barbeque, and then to trap and suffocate a baby mouse.  My favorite recipe is for a baked potato.  Just put it in the crock pot on low and in four days it’s ready to eat.

Every night I set the crock pot on low and pour my morning cereal with a cup of milk.  I hate it and it creates curds and whey, but it takes so long!  And that is, what I assume, the glory of slow cooking.   

Do you ever just stare at your cat and think “what is wrong with me that at some point I thought that having a TINY ANIMAL roam my personal space would be a good idea?”

I saw a Fancy Feast commercial that had a smugfaced ahole cat looking entitled while the voice over says something about doing something good for your cat to show him/her/IT how you feel. I threw the guitar I was strumming at the television set and kicked over a chair. THAT’S how I feel about the glass-breaking, whiny, box-spring-ruining fur bombs.

Cats are tiny demons sent from hell to annoy you and to possibly suck the breath from you while you sleep. My cat and my new stepcat are currently displaying zombie-like qualities — the 28 Days Later zombie. Stupid and fast. I think we all hate our cats. That’s why Target carries the “I Hate Cats” selection of ties and hats and handbags. And that’s why we buy them. Your cat doesn’t want to wear a rooster cap or a fake mustache. Your cat just wants to pee in a box you left on the floor and then poke its head in the cake batter you’re making. There is no reason to have a cat. Cats are not investments.

Alpacas are.

I urge you to request the informational package for “Freedom Alpacas,” in which I have recently purchased a small share. I don’t know what alpacas do or what they are, all I know is that we don’t eat them yet and the woman pictured on the pamphlet seems to enjoy what she’s doing. She’s wearing a bandanna and pets an alpaca (it’s like a llama?) and she’s smiling. SOLD.

I’ve decided to move to WordPress because it’s prettier and I have no HTML skill to make blogger as fancy as I want. 

 Enjoy, you!