FeatherStone Farms. You are changing my life! FeatherStone Farms. How do I love you? Organic-check. Convenient-check. Element of surprise-check. I love you, Featherstone Farms. Four weeks ago, I got my first box of veggies (or weggies for my German friends). I am part of a CSA, I don't know what that stands for but I think it stand for Convenient Surprise Awesome. I shouldn't say I got my first box, more we got our first box. Well my first box, M and A's like millionth box. They fired their last box sharers for negligence and invited me to join. I jumped at the chance. Fresh, organic, local produce, picked packaged, chosen and delivered for me? Yes! For the fall, we get one box every two weeks. And then in the spring, a box a week until….the fall!!! Hooray. I love it. And it cost like $9 a week and I don't have to go to the grocery store. I also love learning about new foods. I learned parsnips are not awesome in curry, but great in potpie. Horseradish greens are not lettuce and the space water vegetable is really a version of cauliflower. And…I made a pie. From an entire pumpkin. It was pretty easy. Messy and I couldn't find my big knife so for a while I thought there was a murderer in my apartment but I still made a pie. Ok, I bought the crust. But I made a pie. First pie ever. It was ok. I didn't love it. And I made whipped cream. The instructions said hold the whisk like a dagger, I thought, "How many whipped cream makers know how to hold a dagger?" I assume all of them, because I know how to hold a dagger. But, man, no one holding a dagger wipes in in circles around a bowl for 20 mins. Ow. I know why there needs to be a dagger to plunge it into my chest for not having an electric mixer. Pie. You happened. |
| Culture of Doing Things! I have not forgotten about you, I've just had a large bout of.....doing things! Like my show tonight (we'll see who comes......wink wink). And Monday Night Comedy Show and WI adventures with an almost burning car, beets, bonnets, Tassels(not for curtains...again wink wink) and tutus and Featherstone Farms, GRE, audio tests and mind reading horses and tabby cats and hens, Parry Hotter and bright teeth. More to come!!!! At least I keep twitting about stuff. |
| The most MInnesota thing in the world. The church Bazaar. Knitted hanging towel things (I know what I mean my mom has one). Crocheted doilies and lopsided washcloths. fleeces hats in the shape of dachounds. \ But first we purchased the required lefse to blend in with the bazaar dwellers, there is nothing more Minnesotan that a Lutheran( I think I might have been Lutheran) church bazaar armed with a bag of lefse. Oh, wait. yes there is something that makes it even more Minnesotan. That would be the honey mustard table conversation: We taste the mustard. The table woman comes over. Woman: You girls try the mustard? Me: Yes, it is good. Woman: Oh, but is has quick a zip too it huh? (the mustard tasted like mustard) Woman: But think of what that would be like on chicken fingers. End. The novelty of 'zippy' foods. And after consuming a caramel roll and pecan pie, I learned that those two sweets are very similar with their nuts and the caramel or caramel like paste. |
| I went to CRAVE for the first time last night. I was really excited and well dressed so of course I ordered the weirdest thing on the menu. I didn't mean too, originally I as excited about the beet salad and other FRESH VIBRANT AMERICAN food but then I saw they had a sushi menu sitting in the middle of the table. I was very please by all the amazing rolls, I couldn't decide what I wanted. Then I saw it. The Dragon Wraps. Tuna, unagi, avocado something else, something else and something else all wrapped up in an egg omelet wrap. Egg omelet wrap? I ask myself. That means I must eat it. So I ordered that and spontaneously decided I needed a spider roll as well. I Beautiful and delicious! The Dragon Rolls are the perfect appetizer of part of a sushi-escape like mine, so soft and fresh. The egg omelet was like a crepe without the holes and crunchy edges, but thicker and warmer. I was impressed with the Spider roll too, I enjoyed the legs of the soft shell crab creeping out of it too. And the Sweet Peach Tea was good, but gone too soon and the Molten Chocolate lava cake was predictable and regrettable. And the restaurant was really dark. Indoor patios, what do you expect? |
| I saw a license plate that said: ASUWISH today. Is that an anti-Semitic thing? A misspelling of everyone's least favorite camp? That got buy the license place people? I would have questioned it and kicked them for asking for that to be placed on the front and the back of their blue minivan. Then I saw a different mini-van with plates that said, "HoHoHo" is that just all year long winter festivities or does that license plate know what I am for Halloween? |
| How do I not fit into my pants again? Why are the new pants falling off? I can't keep buying new pants. I don't like shopping. If my Wii was set up I could see how much weight I have lost, but UPS is holding my TV screws hostage. So, either my pants are just exhausted and exhaling or I keep dropping fats. I don't hear it falling but, man, these pants are just dripping. And the belts aren't helping, they are just as loose, like those belly chains that were so popular in high school. I still have my belly chain, I thought they were cool, and obviously still do. I used to where it more as a double looped necklace, I remember I wore it in my first set of senior pictures. Belly chain. It was cute. And broken constantly. I am really writing this blog to alleviate my frustration with screwing up six thank you cards. Six! That is all the card I had. So now I am going to have to send and email. At least I won't have to use a pen. PS why is alleviated in the spellcheck and alleviate is not? |
| Why is my hand writing that of a second graders? I am trying to write a thank you note. One simple three sentence thank you note and I have already had to start over three times. Three times! That is why I buy cards in bulk, I guess. Damn, my handwriting is specific. Maybe it is because I am using a Sharpie, the bunt tips aren't helpful, but they fill up the space well so I don't have to write more than three sentences. I am just trying to work it. Stupid cramped painful hand from handwriting. Grrrr.... |
| Wow, UPS and USPS! You guys really came through today! How about that! To poorly quote Jason Mraz, I guess you got my message. I was thinking you all forgot my address. Good work delivery trucks. Keep up the good work. |
| One-Eyed Articulate man, "Oh, does your grandson have physical challenges?" Man made of spheres, "No, he's actually quite advanced." Me, "He's a robot." |
| Thursday morning 6:45am, 494 eastbound. There is a woman trying to hitchhike? I won't call her a hitchhiker, because she clearly did not know what she was doing. She was walking on the shoulder of the interstate, in the still dark dawn, against traffic (I don't know if that is correct of not) with her thumb out. She was visibly frustrated that no one was stopping. She did that tossing of the hands up in the air thing. I didn't see her until I was passed her. The morning traffic is pretty tight and taking an unexpected drive off the shoulder would not have been well met. Nor would the attempt to merge back on once you have picked up said poor hike-hitcher. I assumed what happened is her car broke down. She is on her way to work so instead of calling work, or calling a friend or calling a tow truck, she decided to hitch a ride. But who hitch hicks on 494? No is really going a distance. I was only going one mile. What if she wanted to be dropped off, I would have had to pull over again. Inconvenient. For everyone. The most interesting point was that she was less than 50 feet from an exit that would have taken her to a more real, safer road and to people. People at gas stations and Walgreen's where she could have used a phone, or a tow truck. |
| The Cuture of Doing Things=Three weeks of floor TV. I do a lot of things. I am a very busy girl. But really I still want my Royal Phillips TV assembled. It will be three weeks on Saturday and still the missing screws haven't arrived. The TV is huge on the floor. Yes, I am getting a lot of thing done with no TV to watch, but I want it to listen to! Where are these four screws? Part of me wants to pack it back up and send it back but I need to recruit a team of movers to lug it down the stairs and I don't know if it will fit in my car. Maybe I will drive to Georgia to get them. Phillips is getting a call on Friday if they aren't here. Phillips TV, where are the screws? 5-7 business days is now almost 20! Grrrrr...... |
| When did I get to be 800 years old? Why am I paralyzed? Why can't I dress myself without looking at weather.com? Is weather.com a drug? Am I addicted? I just want to be dressed for the weather? I don't like being cold. Why does weather.com only have a weekend or a ten-day forecast? What about five day or a traditional week. Or an hour by hour? I just need to know what to wear now, not what to wear in over a week. Ten days is how long vacations are (one work week and then two weekends, I suppose that is nine days, but you get it) This morning, I was almost late to work because I turned my computer off and couldn't decided on a fall jacket. Which one to wear??? So I had to re-boot my computer to ask weather.com what to do. I couldn't have just looked out the window? But weather.com is a numerical window, looking out the window doesn't tell me the numbers and my running pants are rated for zero to 39 degrees, so outside that range I can't wear them. Weather.com, you've got me under your spell. |
| $65 to run the Monster Dash? Really? $65? I run around the lake for free, I suppose I could wear a costume if I wanted to. And it doesn't start until 10:00am. Runs are supposed to happen at like 8am. I guess at 10:00 it will at least be warmer. What is the $65 for, the orange cones? A fee to the city for blocking roads off? Trophies for best zombie? I guess I could sleep in a little I guess. I don't know now. Scheduling. |
| Clicking on the dictionary.com word of the day does not mean I read it. I did not learn the meaning of the word fugearcuis (nor the spelling of it) by opening the email. I must read it. That is the rule. But I looked at it. No, you must read it. But I even scanned down the page. No, that doesn't count |
| IPOD, I love you! LIke gravy, frosting and ketchup (or in some cases mayo) you make things better! You make three miles of Lake Calhoun so much fun and fast! Sure, thirty minutes of me listening to my head is pretty entertaining. But, wow, when I can hear the spice girls and jump over dog poop at the same time, that is bliss. Even more entertainment when you bounce out of my ears and I play "pin the ear bud back in the lobe" while trying to keep my pace. Fun times. You think of everything IPOD. |
| The Culture of Eating Things: Parrano Uniekaas Dutch Cheese. Three things: Pale, yet approachable Hearty and surprising Already ate half the wedge. But the real question: Is the rind for eating? Answer, still not sure but have peeled the wax off. |
| Sure I eschewed(not quite the right word) the Zombie Crawl for the Art Crawl but I still didn't avoid the weirdos. 'Nuff said. But the highlights of the night were... Almost illegal parking Stereotyping the punk bar The chocolate Lab that was terrified of the fifteen foot trailer spider in from of the downtown library. Artist Matthew Rucker: Everything he does is magic. His art was this years poster winner but all his work is so simple, concise and in out of this world. Genius. Plus his cat was well poised next to the art and good at people observations. Seeing all the cool artist lofts. One day one will be mine. A cool one with huge window and high ceilings. The light painter guy that I forgot the name of that gave us a demonstration. Very cool. Perfecting the "Ah! food! sneak attack on the snack tables. And the North Dakota photos, because I have to like them On the not so plus side: Lots of under-priced work(good for me, not for them) Missing artists when I am trying to buy their things Pretentious family members of artist that jump into your conversations But pretty good, we kind of lost it after five flights of stairs to see weird stuff. That was it. Actually we lost it in the lobby of what seemed to be the art of old folks, which is probably why there were no steps to get to that. |
| Post Office, don't pretend you are on Lake Street when you are clearly on 31st. Of all government offices to fake their address, you should be ashamed. Set an example Post Office, think of the children. |
| Burger Jones, are you going to make it? Your Nutella milkshakes was great! And the S'more milkshake was delightful too, with whole marshmallows! But is that enough? The Hangover Burger was good, I love fried eggs in anything. And egg yolk spilling over a burger is an awesome condiment. The hot sauce seemed to be there for looks. Instead of putting in over the egg, it would be more effective taste-wise directly over the burger. The bun soaks up the hot sauce making the bottom of the top bun looking like a used feminine product. I did not eat this part of the bun. I can't comment on the bacon I didn't eat it, I only wanted it because it is best friend with the fried egg. Burgers are good. Is that enough? The Tri-tasting fry tower. Great, really great. I kept eating the parmesan waffle fries well past my stomach fill level. And I always like choosing fancy dipping sauces. The sweet potato fries were good too. But the regular old potato fries were the best! Soft and crunchy, neither salty or bland. I wish I had dived into those first before my belt expanded to it's next belt hole. But the bottomless bowl of homemade pickles. That is where it is at. If this restaurant was called Pickle Jones, it would last for ever. Spicy and sweet with a bite and a melty-ness. Those were the best pickles I have ever eaten. And show me a pickle I haven't gotten my mouth around. But it is called Burger Jones. And what I question is the atmosphere. A little school cafeteria-like. A brand new cafeteria in a middle school but still cafeteria like. There is few booths and they are low so there isn't a lot of privacy. And when I am shoving a burger into my face I don't want to be distracted by the attractive man sitting behind my mom eating cheese curds alone while reading a book. I could not focus. And how hot is me and my yolk explosion burger and handfuls of parmesan waffle fries? A woman wants to eat giant messy burgers with a little privacy, I cannot worry about being kittenish when I am lioness with a kill. And Burger Jones I have seen your illustration. I have seen you in your geek glasses. Do your geek glasses have staying power? And it bothers me that you hold that giant double patty burger like a serving plate, would that bottom bun really be stable enough to hold that way? Or do you have a plate under there? And what about that nine foot profile photo of you eating a burger that a diner can't help but stare at since the visibility of the cafeteria landscape is a million miles, if I am not staring at another tables handfuls of fries I am staring and you with your geek glasses and electric cheeseburger. Burger Jones prove my intuition wrong and have many anniversaries in your open unprotected mess hall. Maybe dimming the lights would work. Or a privacy screen could come out with each burger. But Burger Jones, with your trendy geek glasses, I wonder how will you adapt when everyone starts wearing contacts? Or gets Lasik? Or wears aviators? Or rhinestone cat-eye glasses? Or when EVERYONE wears geek glasses and then you are just a normal guy impossibly holding a giant burger, instead of a hip, cool one? Oh, Burger Jones, what will you do? You can't just get people excited over adult milkshakes forever, some of us are lactose-intolerant. |
| I am not going for a run. It is way more fun to turn the oven on. And that is multi-tasking. I am not going for a run. My ankle is sore. I realized recently that I cock my left ankle inside when I drive. I have always known I do that. But only remember on road trips. The oven will warm me up. It is gray outside. Sometimes I forget sweatshirts. Someone thought I was famous today again. I forgot his name already. But I did get a secret tour of MPR. Not so secret only because most of the people had already left for the day. Sort of secret. |
| I should have seen it coming. There were warning signs. But I couldn't resist. Four firecrackers stamped on that menu meant nothing. It was the only item that had four firecrackers next to it. The closets thing to it was a green curry with one firecracker. This had four. Four firecrackers, that I realize now may have been tiny dynamite sticks. Tiny dynamite sticks, that would have been more appropriate. It really should have been an A-Bomb. There were only four on the plate, accompanied by a lime sorbet chaser and a warning printed on card stock held up by two lines. Paraphrasing: "Warning. Do not complain to your server that these were too hot. You will be publicly mocked and have been warned." This was my second warning, first tiny sticks of dynamite, second a printed card placed on the plate. I dug it. The taste was excellent, sweet, creamy, onion cream cheese, crunchy warm battered outside and chewy, sticky, &%$%^^#ing hot pepper. Habanero Hell Poppers. Ouch! The roof of my mouth felt like it was being peeled back and a fire was then being aresol chemical sprayed on to it. I didin't think it wouls ever stop. It was the hottest thing I have ever had in my mouth. I was enjoying the taste until my tastbuds shut down for fear of being burned off. The lime sorbet helped. And the constant drinking of water to pushing the pepper along its journey. Habenero Hell Poppers: Chino Latino. They warn you, and they weren't kidding. |
| Who needs Muscle Beach when I have Lake Calhoun? I can't believe some of those guys actually can run without falling over, they are so top heavy. And wide. Really wide. No one can run or walk around them. It is like a flesh wall huffing toward or in front of you. Yes, I have popped my Lake Calhoun workout cherry. I have to admit I was a little intimidated. I am still new and hesitant to the running (I like to say jogging it sounds easier) and they only workout clothes I have are my Bikram yoga clothes. But did a scouting run near the lake yesterday to see where the entrances to the trail was and to see if there was a designated area or a one-way trail. But today I went for it. I did pretty good. I was colorful in my garb and my celebrity gas station sunglasses really helped me look cool. I didn't feel intimidated, my abs are like cathedral windows (without the stained glass). I don't run very fast, but it isn't a race. That I am aware of. Maybe it is. No wonder, runners don't smile, they don't know when the race is over. I didn't see a finish line. I was done before I got to it. Hmmm... what about that. I think I will bring a finish line next time for everyone. |
| I am hosting an impromptu party. I knew people were coming over at varied times this evening. So I realized why not actually have something more than beer? Well, I don't know about that but there is Root Beer now and three kinds of gourmet tortilla chips (sweet potato, olive and "the works") No salsa. .....yet. And I bought an overpriced but convenient fruit bowl for healthfulness. And I was able to run all my errands, run all my miles, shower, hind unmentionables(actually I haven't done that yet) and write this blog before my guest show up. I am such a hostess! Now I need to hide all the freaking Kotex I keep finding everywhere. |
| Hi Blog! Look at you! You are here on the internet. Out in the big wide world. Are you making friends? You don't seem to write home often, or at all. I send you letters. Do you get them? Did you like the cookies I made for you? It is important that I send you cookies. You don't have to eat them. Obviously, I would like you to eat them. But I understand if you don't. I just make the kind that come in the bag, pre-portioned and pre-frozen and all I do is shake them out on a baking sheet and cook them like fish sticks. But I make them for you. The whole time I am getting the bag out of the freezer and tearing the plastic open and dumping them out I am thinking, "Blog is going to love these cookies so much. She will be so delighted and think of me each time she eats one of these individually loved cookies." I am proud of you blog. For going out there with all those other blogs. There are a lot of blogs out there, I know you probably feel lost in the shuffle. But I know you are there. I think of you and write to you. You are important to me. You are just fine, blog. |
| I think the Urban Bean girl thinks I am cheap. I ordered my expected Chair Tea (by the way Urban Bean also has the Oregon Chai Green Tea which is also excellent) and as she turned to make my delciousness I saw that the totally was $3.90. Luckily, I had five actual dollars. Ok, I say to myself, four of these dollars will pay for chai and one will be tip. Why am I holding this money like a fan like this? I don't need her to see me put the dollar in the tip jar for me to know I tipped her. So I put the dollar in the mug, I did put it in lightly so it looked like it was just recently placed and gravity hadn't pulled into down into the depths of the coins. When she returned with my tea, she I gave her the four dollars and she gave me my ten cents back, I also dropped that into the tip mug. She saw that. So she knows I tip annoying coins, but she doesn't know that I gave her a dollar when she wasn't looking. And then I went into the back room I had never sat in before and it became laptop station and everyone it there had the reusable mugs. I had the disposable cup, with lid and straw! I am the outcast. Most people in here are in their pajamas too. Or old and very wide with ice. Me, always the stand out. |
| My eyes keep burning. Is that like when your ears are burning when someone is talking about you? Or when your nose itches someone is thinking about you? My eyes burn. Mainly when I put in my eye drops. Maybe my eye drops are really acid. Acid drops. Isn't Acid Pops a thing? Does that exist. Sometimes only one of the eyes will independently tear. My eyes are asserting their independence in this healing process. Funny. So much dripping. |
| Filled with metaphors. Had my Lasik Eye Enhancement yesterday. Wasn't nearly as pleasant as the first time, a little bit Clockwork Orangey, unpleasant, but coming out the other side was amazing. I can see clearly for the first time sine January (metaphor alert). I am stunned at the details I can see, like a vampire's eyes (or so I've heard). I feel awake. I still wear my space goggles at night and yesterday was a pretty uncomfortable five hours. When I finally decided to open my eyes I was a little nervous. I was afraid the flap would open up with my eyelids. I remember them painting it down after the laser happened. Weird. The eye doctor's were supposed to call me yesterday to see how I was doing. The didn't I even gave them the right number. I supposed it was too late, but I was ready. Turns out nobody called to check on me. I didn't tell my mom I was having the surgery done yesterday, won't she be surprised. It was kind of a last minute decision but I was still hoping I had slept through the phone. The best part of Lasik Eye surgery was listening to the Amanda and Brooke Radio show. It was pretty great. I also was sleepy on Valium. And walking like a drunk person. I didn't remember doing that last time but last time it was a quicker ride home and I had Wendy's this time I was in the car longer and on my Valium feet more so it was super fun getting to the futon. Weeee!!!! In optimism there is magic. |
| Rockstar. That is all I can say. Rockstar. Who else walks into a Caribou Coffee right after a 90 min Bikram yoga class, swiftly showered and immediately turns heads. And then is approached by an adoring fan, oohhing and ahhing over my sunglasses that aare perched atop my nested (non-showered) sweaty sticky hair. And I totally upped the coolness factor when I said they were $12 from a gas station. In North Dakota. And my fan assured me they looked nothing like a pair from a gas station. She kept talking about them. I kept looking and her one long tooth. She was smartly dressed, I am half dressed in this new shirt I bought that is lopsided (not on purpose) and braless. I also kept thinking, "how is this going to end?" Should I introduce myself? Are we friends now? Then my 20 oz of Chai tea showed up. Saved my the chai. Rockstar. Rockstar. |
| In my chai tea connoisseuring of the Twin Cities, the peppermint chai tea latte at the Tea Garden in pretty great. And just so you know Caribou Coffee, Urban Bean, and Starbucks all use the Oregon Chai you can buy at the store. But you cannot buy free Wi-Fi at the store. By the way, Starbucks makes you buy a Starbucks card to use the Wi-Fi, what is up with that. Dunn Bros has their own chai recipe, it is a bit spicer and deeper than the Oregon Chai. But the Tea Garden has so many options! The peppermint in my tea makes me think I can skip brushing them. |
| Why do I only eat chips today? Not a mono diet. Cracked Salt and Pepper Kettle Cooked Lays and Cool Ranch Doritos.* Two members of the chip food groups. I think banana and bagel chips round out those basic four food groups. Kettle chips are loud. I prefer the Kettle chips to Doritos. Doritos I do not love, but enjoy. I will take Doritos out to movies, but I will not shave for them. Kettle chips, however, there is shaving, waxing and tweezing for and the agonizing which underwear will be the most alluring yet, most disguising of nervous butt sweat. Oh, kettle chips. *Thanks for Geoff for the providing of such exquisite crunchies. |
| Rooftop Parties. It doesn't get any cooler than that. Unless you've spent more time on roofs having parties that on the earth. Unless you were so cool you only existed at rooftop parties. Too bad we didn't have the fire. The others did. Prometheus steal fire from the gods for us. |
| I shouldn't drink anymore Chai teas. I have had two today. The one I have right now is 20 oz. That is a lot of Chai tea. Is there caffeine in Chair tea? I would assume so. I like the taste a lot. On top of all the Chai, I am super excited about my apartment that I just signed the lease on. of for with where from.(hanging prepositions). It is really great. Top floor! So I can walk around naked! Hardwood floors! Cats allowed not extra deposit! Original cabinetry! Super tall walk-in closets! Windows! Doors! A built in thing! toilet! shower! Ceiling! Walls! Doorknobs! |
| I am getting so annoyed at single serving yogurt. Yoplait cups are conical. Hasn't anyone noticed that? You can't get all the yogurt out of it because of the shape! The ridge at the top holds and hides the sweet, frosting gurt from the reach of your spoon. This causes the single serving yogurt consumer to dig around the smooth non-cylinder. You cannot dig on a smooth non-porous surface! You can't do it! All it does is scratch and scrape at nothing. This is no way to live a life! Pawing at a impenetrable layer(some may say that is my heart, TANGENT! and bad joke alert) They scrape and drag the spoon attempting to get the last bits of the chunky-strawberry, Boston creme, football flavored gurt that eludes them. Yogurt should be served in pudding cups, wide enough to get it all and wide enough to stick your face in it if you insist on eating every last bit of gurt. Man, I hate single serving size yogurt. |
| So is it possible for me to marry Matthew Perry's character from the DVD set of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip? Is it? I don't want to marry a DVD box set or anything crazy like that, but if his character could be enlarged to human size would someone let me know? And I don't mean through a Sanyo projector and a screen. I mean like a human. Can someone humanize that character for me? Maybe I am getting ahead of myself, I have only seen two episodes of the show. At least could that character become my Facebook friend? Then he and I can take it from there. |
| I have bought and consumed more chai teas in the last two weeks than ever in my entire life. I never did that before. And what better way to start living like I never did before. |
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| There is a woman holding a cardboard Car Wash sign. She is yelling "Car Wash" to passing cars in a voice the would belong to a small injured child stuck in a well. A woman on a bike said last week at least there were cheerleaders. |
| In casting of this break-up Miss Aniston will be played by Heather and Mr. Pitt will be played by Matt and Miss Jolie will be played by Jamie. The set of Mr. and Mrs. Smith will be replaced with a theatre in Wisconsin. Everyone please put on their Team Heather shirts now. |
| Why is everyone's youth marked by a drowning kitten story? Why is everyone drowning kittens? Kittens are adorable, do they think because they are so adorable that they are invincible. People keep telling me these stories. Why is it only ever one kitten? If these 'people' with an unexpected litter of adorables can't keep them why is there only one that gets watered down? And if a kitten needs to be drowned(which they never do) why aren't the parents doing it? Why teens and preteens? Is this some sick right of passage Midwest parents think is important? Why have a met so many people who have a kitten drowning story? And why do they tell it with honest remorse? If they felt remorse they should have gone in the bucket after the cat! Why is this a cookie cutter youth experience? Are parents buying twisted weird 'how to be a good parent kits?" Some advice. Get it spayed, idiots. |
| The woman in front of my has states tattooed on her calves. I can't stop staring at them. I keep pretending I am interested in reading about spicy chicken and swiss hot sandwiches but I keep staring at the huge ILLINOIS tattoo on her left calf. It has to be about the side of a deck of cards(thank you food serving guide reference). Shades of grey create in the Chicago skyline filling the ILLINOIS silhouette. I try to look away but only stare at her right calf. There is MINNESOTA. The Minneapolis skyline can't compete with the Windy city so it wasn't nearly as full in this tattoo so the artist had filled in around the edges with snowflakes. Why are these tattoos on the backs of her legs? Written above the ILLINOIS tattoo and below the MINNESOTA were curly, curving letters. The ILLINOIS tattoo said, "Born" and the MINNESOTA one said, "Raised." I get it, it is to provide an icebreaker for people who are standing behind you at Super America. I was supposed to say, "Oh, you were born in ILLINOIS huh? When did you move to MINNESOTA for your raising to begin?" I wonder if she has an other state tattoos. Like where she had her first kiss. First airplane ride? Where she went on a road-trip once. When she dies, is part of her burial preparation going to be giving her a "Died" state tattoo? If she dies in one of the states already listed then they can just add the word died. But if it happens in a new state, then a whole new state would need to be tattooed and let's hope that state has an impressive skyline, but if is was VERMONT I bet the artist could fill the state in with leaves. Should I be getting state tattoos? NORTH DAKOTA, IOWA, MISSOURI, INDIANA, OHIO, KENTUCKY, FLORIDA, MINNESOTA. I am a glamorous assortment of the Midwest. Or places I've been to, I could have a DELAWARE tattoo saying "Drove through" or GEORGIA tattoos that proclaims in swirly writing "Lay over". I could have the whole globe put on my butt and I could just add push pins. |
| Cover girl pressed powder compact in ivory=one way ticket back to high school. Who needs a high school Reunion when I have make-up? This weekend was my ten-year high school Reunion. I had originally planned to go but with having just been to my hometown for a wedding and see all my friends there and then having stuff to do here and though the cost of $25 to gawk at who got fat is a super deal, I didn't go. And none of my friends could go due to honeymoons and new jobs, way cooler excuses than my unwillingness to drive ten hours in two days to eat BBQ and repeatedly answering the "And what are you doing now" question and dodging herds of nine-year-olds with plates of coleslaw. But CoverGirl, you are the Doc Brown of cosmetic chance.. Just one sniff. I wasn't expecting it when I purchased the brown-tortie compact during my amazing stint as a maid of honor three weeks ago. I saw it and bought it thinking: cheap, portable and familiar. I had always carried a CoverGirl pressed powder compact until my sophomore year of college, then I have no idea why I stopped. In high school, make-up was my rebellion. Natural, undetectable, enhancing without glamour make-up. I was great at it. The foundation, concealer, powder and eye shadow, sometimes mascara but I was always striving for the perfect natural look. I am amazed now when I think about how much time I spent trying to look just like myself, but the payoff was I looked like a better version of my self. The pressed powder compact was my emergency, since I had lots of acne in my high school days I needed something to help me have confidence where ever I went and that is why the compact was in my backpack, it covered zits, soaked up oil and disguised a blushing, flush, embarrassed face after being assigned to work in an English group with my crush from elementary school who two weeks ago I discovered was married. I remember wearing concoctions of clothing involving a variety of striped shirts. Staring reverently at the cosmetic section of Wal-Mart, scanning the Sunday paper for make-up coupons. I remember sometime just following a group of students in the hall rather than attempting to fight way out of the clog of students attempting to squeeze through a hallway. Hiding in bathrooms, but pretending to be using the mirror, stall and sink and paper towel dispenser when I was too awkward to do anything else. CoverGirl: just like the reunion without paying for gas. |
| In the interest of re-visiting old crushes that are currently unavailable, let's talk about: Tiger Woods. In 1996 Sports Illustrated named Tiger Woods 'Sportsman of The Year.' The magazine featured Tiger on the cover and pages and pages of Tiger's tales of rising to the top of golf. I remember the cover image of Tiger was a Photo-shop-esque pastel wispy drawing. It was amazing. I smuggled that issue of Sports Illustrated to my basement bedroom the same way my brother "recycled" the swimsuit issue produced by the same magazine. I had pulled out the bottom drawer of my desk and hide the magazine in the space between the carpet and the bottom of the desk. Super secret and super quick access. I devoured that magazine. The cover started ripping away from the staples. I knew everything about Tiger. His real name, Eldrick. His multi-racial heritage. He was five years older than me. Me at 15 was trying to figure out how that five year gap would work in our relationship. I repeatedly counted the ages on my fingers. He was 20 I was 15, when I was 20 he would be 25, 'is that too old?' I would wonder to myself. I practiced our wedding vows. I planned that at the point where the priest would say, "Do you, Heather, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" I planned to pause unexpectedly, look at Tiger with concerned eyes and then say, "What? You married an actress." And then say yes. Dramatic. Absolutely. Something a 15 year-old would dream up. Obviously. Yesterday I learned that his Swedish wife is one year older than I am. Damn, I was so close. |
| There is a reason someone invented Diaper Genie. And the reason is stink-filled baby poop. The person I live in my apartment with has recently begun a two-afternoon-a-week baby sitting gig in our apartment. On day 2, the baby needed changing and placing the offending diaper in a paper take out bag in the trash does not recreate a diaper genie. Ouch. Not that I blame him too much for the smell, I also think that the parents are to blame(the parents are always to blame!) That is they expect one to change the butt rag of their child in their own home that they should also bring a diaper genie to properly dispose of the bowel cloth. Is making people babysit in their own home just a ploy to get baby poop in to more homes? Are they trying to convert the non-reproduced by infecting them with dung? Do they assume that the non-reproducers will 'get used' to the smell and then have children of there own so they don't feel so chained down by their own choices? Or so they can drop even more children off at the baby-sitters without anyone knowing? What is the meaning of all of this? |
I filled my red plastic basket with a 750 count pack of Q-tips, smoothie drink, something else and an unmentionable and headed towards the checkout. I meandered since I was filling time to avoid going back to my hurricaned (metaphor) apartment. I didn't want to use an express checkout since those cashiers are always more friendly and with my unmentionable in my basket I don't like the tiny conveyor belt that spotlights all your purchases. I wanted a regular clogged busy checkout. Or a woman cashier. I found an old man checking out customers and chose his line. Casually I emptied my basket and pretended I knew what I was doing. He checked out my purchases as normal and asked me how I was doing. I said, "Good" I asked him how he was doing. He said, "Ok." then he kept checking out my things and said, "But tomorrow comes whether I am feeling good or not, the word doesn't stop because I am not having a good time, right?" I smiles and agreed. Target: Everything you need and the insight you forgot you needed. |
| I forgot how much I love Pier One! I haven't been to the store in years and then went for a work scouting trip and fell in love all over again! And they were having their 50% off sale and I love everything in there. I need to live in a Pier One, my dream is to be covered in weirdly tooled bar stools and over-embellished accent pillows. I had to stop by yesterday on my way back home after the wedding to buy the soaps that I resisted buying on the work event. I bought 7 soups for $6! Awesome! One is chocolate and pepper! It makes me so happy to use, Especaily since someone used my shampoo bar as regular soap and I got annoyed. But the chocolate cayenne makes me happy. |
| Dear Internet,
The Internet just informed me that my epic High School/Grade school/Beyond crush was married in January. He is married. This really affects me. Why? I don't know. I guess I always thought of him as a safe fantasy. But now he is married. I felt this way when Miss Eternal-Bags-Under-Her-Eyes took him to the prom. Why does the Internet know everything? Not that I ever really talked to this guy other than stammering self-consciously in 11th grade English class during an assignment about what would one need on a desert island. I said a swimming pool. I also remember having the fly on my black corduroy pants be down next to him during a movie in 10th grade and trying to figure out a subtle way to zip my fly back up, realizing now he wasn't ever looking at me and I could have just zipped it up and no one would have ever know but now I am telling the internet. I feel like I just missed some sort of deadline, like had I Googled him earlier, he would never have gotten married and could stay forever in my head as the guy I totally could have been with if I really wanted to. But he is married. I never would have guessed it. But I should have figured it out I have excellent taste. But I am a little bit vulnerable since I am coming off the best friend's wedding thing where I was the most attractive and least married of all the bridesmaids and the only person that wanted to dance with me was the gay friend of the groom. I just wanted some Internet comfort food, some gazing at my untouchable crush and then he goes and gets married. Who am I to pine for now? This is worse than my apartment manager thinking I have morning sickness when really I am doubled over from the lactose in the Caribou Coffee chai tea. |
| Stop typing symptoms into the internet, no good will come of that. Do not click on any of those inticing yahoo.about answers to your questionable pain. You have already taken ibuprofen no need to complicate it will Google fears. Keep eating your fruit bar, blame it on staying up later, drinking too much caffeine and not eating enough of anything. Stop it. Google is not an oracle. Google doesn't have all the answers. yet. |
But I like Sea Serpents.
Where did that come from?
Woot-a joyful sound, like hooray, but a word.
I had never heard "woot" until about a year ago. Is it from somewhere? Is it new? I always thought it was the word "woo."
Woo-derived from woo-hoo a celebratory cry.
Like, "Woooooooooo!" we won the Superbowl, or something like that. Now I hear woot. And not from an isolate group but across all people I meet. Have people always been saying 'woot?' Did I just never hear the 't' and the end? I even see it typed. Is is recent as I have been noticing? Or is an ancient word of expressed delight?
Why had I never heard before last year? Now it surrounds me. Is it from some TV or movie? Or has it always been woot?
Has it always been woot?
?
Is that a spider bite on my leg? Did a five-fanged spider bite my side-upper calf? Was it a tarantula? A huge sneaky tarantula? Shouldn't it itch? It doesn't itch. Where are my super powers?
My gum hurts. I flossed why does it hurt? It feels like it is sandwiches between my molars, like fingers in a door. I flossed, what more does it need? Poking? Does it need poking? More floss? Does it want more floss?
Just when Minnesota was lulled into thinking winter had hid its head in the sand for the season. Ta-Da! Like mutilated angels, pounds of the white stuff insulated the area. No visibility, calf deep thickness on the roads and cars stuck left and right.
I had no fear. I knew to stick to the major thoroughfares that are plowed first, maintain an even speed and avoid drifts. No stuckness for me.
Until ten minutes ago. I was pleased with my abilities this evening and even push the envelope by chivalrously flattening some snow on the road for others, when I turned into my parking lot.
And got stuck, in my own parking lot. Somme helpful guys pushed me down the little hill and then I got stuck again trying to park. They pushed me again and I finally parked.
I got stuck twice six feet from home.
I am a little embarrassed.
I am scarily perfect.
Enthusiasm,
Creativity
and relevant experience.
I used to work in an aquarium and was a tour guide. And I am a writer.
here is the link.
http://www.islandreefjob.com/applicants/watch/hM4NHF0sLVI
Check it out!
He had brought me there to see the bull whip artist. My boyfriend is a bull whip enthusiast so he fit in this new subculture. I followed him deeper in the gym, taking in the five-ball lessons, the unicycle hockey and the T-shirt sales. Crack! and Matt made a hard left through the crowd of club passers as if he was pulled by a sirien song, I was startled, did he mean to walk through all this pass juggling just to get to the bullwhip? Could we not walk around the flying clubs? Matt was halfway across, and like Moses and his sea, all the juggling clubs parted ways for him like an amazing double dutch. I scrambled after, avoiding disaster and unintentionally moistening the floor with my sopping boots. At the bull-whip station, Matt was well entertained. I made my way to the raffle area, since I got a free raffle ticket with my admission.
I sat alone, waiting for Matt to join me. I looked at the raffle table of prizes. I wanted one. I decided I wanted a diablo, devils sticks or poi. I wanted poi the most. It seemed like something I could learn well since it didn't leave my hands and I wasn't throwing anything in the air. I knew I was going to win. The raffle started. I felt like an impostor. If I win these things someone else way more into juggling won't get it. Why did I feel this guilt? Some of the stuff was really lame like Koosh balls and Duct-Tape wallets. Boy, I stick out in my black turtleneck. The poi was raffled off to someone else, t-shirts, DVDs, devil sticks and weird canes all found new owners. Then three Koosh balls were up. I started thinking about all my fond memories of Koosh balls, way before the Rosie O'Donnell phase. They felt funny, poking but pliable. I used to have a huge Koosh ball the size of a grapefruit. I got it on vacation in the 5th grade. It made me the
coolest kid at recess the day I brought it. I remember all the kids in my class standing in a circle just throwing my giant Koosh around. It was lavender, white and periwinkle. The cool girls and the cute boys were in the game. I felt so a part of something. How funny was it that this weird ball of rubber spikes could do so much for my self esteem? And how did that even get invented? And then manufactured? Do they even sell Koosh balls anymore? Remember how the marketing of them got pretty out of control? Koosh slingshots, pencil toppers all colors.
"9063"
Wait. That is my number. I stood up and made a small triumphant cry(I had rehearsed that in my mind in case I won, to make sure I looked excited to win and not impostor-like.) I made my way down the bleachers. As I walked across the gym floor I saw a girl step out of the middle of the bleachers and the announcer head towards her with my prize. What was going on? I am so sure they called my number. Cat-fight!, the crowd joked. The announcer realized that one of us was an earlier number that had been called but the other girl was too busy talking to hear it, so she was trying to claim my prize. The announcer thought I was the other girl. I was my number was called. The girl and I were awkward. I tried to brush it off, but I really wanted my prize. I did. She was like, "do you even want it? We could split it." My head kept saying "No, I think splitting it is stupid!"The announcer dealt with the situation uncomfortably, but the man with the prizes swiftly
ran and had something behind his back. I was told I could pick either the Koosh balls or the unknown behind his back.
I always go for the unknown.
I received 6 six light up juggling balls.
It was awkward. I felt undeserving of the prize. But I can juggle balls. And they don't know that I am not a juggler. For all they know I am a talent scout looking for the next great juggler and unicycler, so they should be impressing me.
I returned to my seat and the guy behind me said, "Good choice." I decided if my other raffle ticket(Matt's since Matt was across the gym) won I would give it to him. Unless it was something I really wanted, which was doubtful. But I still held on to it. I couldn't wait for the raffle to be over. When it was I met with Matt and we caught up and I pretending to be gesturing to unicycles in an expert manner so no one would know I didn't belong.
Next time, dress the part.
I remember wanting to hurt him. Wanting to make him dead, wanting him to die forever. I can assume he felt the same way. The way we would tear and beat each other. From mimicked WWF moves to ninja kicks it was to dominate, to hurt to kill. But as soon as someone got hurt then hurtee was "just playing" and the hurter was the malicious one. But the hurter did feel remorse after the act, but in the moment of the attack all intent to hurt was there on both sides.
My defense was to bite and scratch. Stereotypical female response, but it work and what else did my pudgey body have against an older, more athletic brother? He never bit or scratched with intent, he used more blunt striking. Hitting my head on to the cement floor, kicking, punching, sitting and suffocating. I can't even count how many times I cried out, "I can't breathe." He usually replied, "But you can talk." But I couldn't breath mentally, I felt the gravity pulling this body into my chest and the panic of knowing soon the breathing could and would stop. He always stopped before it did.
I hated the fighting.
Obviously she doesn't read minds.
But who isn't in love with a vampire?
Voldemort.
Who would win between Edward Cullen and Voldemort?
Voldemort already shut down this battle. Remember Cedric Diggory? Yep, Edward Cullen. He didn't even get a shot off and Voldemort took care of him.
Voldemort. Bad Guy of the Century.
Aside from the nose thing Mr. Fiennes is just that Mr. Fine. Robert Pattison, yes, indeed he was chiseled from the hotness tree, but can he rock the absence of a schnoze?
