Jesus H. Sandwich

Obviously my lunch today was a sign from God.
A sign that I should eat it.

Yum.

Much more incriminating than Thursday 13

My google search history.

23 skidoo
Veloute
wasabi mashed potatoes
american gem society
pseudocyesis
funnycide
Rochom P'nieng
inherited hammertoe
complaints about subway sandwich
shocking truths
white chocolate
big dipper
mathematical theorems
being poor is your own fault
New yorkers are ridiculous
Fra Browning
Family in oregon stranded
johnny cash middle finger
cheap trip to Kentucky derby
blood pressure
Delaware emission limits for coal fired power plants
paso corto
calories in cheese omelet
hip haircuts
riesling
kibbee
patrick Deuel
glockenspiel
walnut
abdominal migraine
zodiac killer
god rest ye merry gentlemen
history of candy bars
modern pyramid schemes
claymoore
garrote
Uninvited game reviews
chelated iron
fireproof christmas tree
old fashioned licorice all sorts
What's the fuss over TMX Elmo?
Is the shroud of turin fake?
Tenzig Norgay
plaid fur lined hat with ear flaps
canine liver shunt
petite four
fung was bus disaster
stikfas
medical quakery
william howard taft
Sopron dog yard
Luke perry in 2006
Sport team rivalry
What's the difference between William Henry Harrison and James Garfield?
Ass over teakettle
T is for Texas
Teens bake puppy in oven
rasputin stout
causes of tinnitus
copper allergy
meniere's disease
SDA virus
exploding stomach from over eating
co-morbid anxiety
interrobang
I hate the schooligan
Syrian Rye
Running shoes make my feet numb
desert aisha plusie
schadenfreude
living with morbid obesity
totenkopf
chloe the pitbull
urim and thummim
#10 envelope
subaru recall
how to spot fake gucci
absolute zero
Alice Hoffman
islands near puerto rico
giant underpants
children misbehaving at restaurants
drill hole in head
periodic limb movement disorder
arrow through head
free things to do in columbus, OH
pizza bites
gunga din
aspartame will kill you
real estate cody, wy
family circus sucks
beauceron
vice versa
Nembutal
self important conversation
Ramadan 2007
Fill & drain hose coupler assembly
TJX security breach
attuned eating
Cruel Girl Jeans
beriberi
Camp Wind in the Pines
Russian Moose Farm
folliculosis
out of control binging
How to fold large pieces of paper
Anthony Bourdain
Bone marrow donation
glenlivet natural Scotch whisky
How tall is Beth Rodden?
Wilted spinach
How to cut emo bangs
homozygous proven stallion
rachel ray meatloaf muffins
cat eye syndrome
diverticulitis
mahi mahi recipe
Starbucks 9/11
Leland Olds air permit
Morgellons
Siberian Cat
English bull dog problems
Yom kippur
lumbago
rusty cage
oleana
cant touch this lyrics
can ducks throw up
gurney
Duke Belews Creek
balancing moonflower
phonics
raw seal fat
sopapilla
honey dew donuts
cervical punch
world's smallest horse
whiskey on the rocks and a quarter for the juke box
quid pro quo
when was shake and bake invented?
mock apple pie
ways to lose your driver's license
momo syndrome
obesity crisis in america
what is a placket
chiropractors on crystal meth
blueberry cobbler
BLM horses
ring bone
Dog chapman arrested
little yellow jacket
cotton eye
hell house
Gerald Gentleman station
Deval Patrick
Children who are difficult to toilet train
behind these hazel eyes
spontaneous lactose intolerance
museum of russian icons

The Height of Sophistication

Last year I had a page-a-day calendar from "The Joy of Cooking" (but only because I could not find my usual Edward Gorey variety) and every day there would be a fun fact about food, a recipe or when the day was particularly lame, a quote vaguely related to food. I kept the pages in a stack on my desk to use as scrap paper and while I was making a to-do list I re-discovered the "Waldorf Salad".

According to the calendar, in the early 1900's mayonaise combined with celery and apples was "The Height of Sophistication." (The walnuts and grapes came later, THANK GOD.) Or you could make it child friendly with mini marshmallows.

You know how I feel about mayonnaise (the devil's ketchup), so can I just say, What The Fuck? This has got to be the grossest interpretation of "salad" ever. Mayonnaise? Walnuts? Fucking marshmallows? Was it a joke? Tell me it was a joke played on rich New Yorkers, "Ha ha ha. They'll eat ANYTHING! Throw in some more celery boys! Don't forget the red grapes. Oh, and what the hell, leave the SEEDS IN THEM!"

My local sunday paper has a section called "Happy Times" where kids write essays on various topics and get them published in the paper. Right next to Ziggy. Awesome. This week's topic was "If I had a time machine..." Pretty much all the kids would travel back to Ancient Egypt to watch the pyramids being built (hope they have a few decades with nothing to do) or to prehistoric times to see dinosaurs*. Not me. If I had a time machine I would travel back to New York c. 1896 and punch Oscar Tschirky in the face. Twice. "This is for the Waldorf Salad!" *punch* "And this is for THOUSAND ISLAND DRESSING!" *punch* "Oh and don't get any fancy ideas about poached eggs and hollandaise either."

*How did stegosauruses have sex? No, seriously, how did they? It seems kind of impossible. Hmmm. Maybe that's why they went extinct.

Pigeon Hotel Foxtrot

The pigeon sitch at the Voodoo Lounge is officially out of control.

Last week I couldn't stand the cooing and the loud avian debates so I unleashed my secret weapon: Underfoot. She did a good job prowling around the attic and hopefully putting the fear of cat into them. Ninja, on the other hand, was completely worthless, and nervously refused to leave the house.

I think the final straw was when they invited a freaking squirrel over to their frat house and took turns loudly taunting me and shitting on things that may be of value. Oh, and they are totally into porn as well. I found a piece of a smutty magazine covered with poo and feathers.

Fucking pigeons.

Functional appliances are hot.

There are many reasons why I dislike doing dishes, among them is that my sink is not designed with a dishwashing giraffe in mind and after about 1 minute of standing at this sink my back starts to hurt. Also, I paid dearly for that dishwasher, and I'll be damned if I use it only for counter space. And storing dirty dishes.

Because I am too cheap (read: poor) to get someone to comeout and fix the stupid thing, I've been trying to diagnose and fix the problem myself. Tip: Never buy anything at Sears. I've been there twice now and have talked to approximately 8 different people and NONE OF THEM knows a fucking thing about dishwashers, or, I expect, anything else. Except maybe how to look like they just stepped off the set of a Dallas! reunion special.

The lady at the Parts & Service department, conveniently located in upper Siberia, knew nothing about either parts nor service. Except to tell me that for $75 I could have a "technician" come out and LOOK AT IT. Not fix it. Look at it. I declined and she directed me to Sclamo's (another appliance store).

Besides having awesome commercials on the local TV station, (The ads direct you in a piercing voice, to go to SCLAAAAAAA-MOS! Then they show bad shots of the outside of the store) the guy at Sclaaaaaa-mos actually knew a thing or two about dishwashers. He even gave me the website for a plumbing supply website where I can order the part I need ($62 + tax & shipping, no charge for me to look at the dishwasher with said part in hand). Then he told me that if I felt comfortable with simple tools, lever, inclined plane, etc. I could probably do-it-myself. Either that or live with a dishwasher that is both non-functional AND in pieces.

To The Person Who Left ONE Gummy Bear in the Candy Dish

(And I know who you are!)

Not eating ALL the gummy bears does not negate your glutonous consumption of the other 99.9999% of the department refreshments.

Making Insomnia Work for You

I mean, if you can't sleep at 5 am, might as well go to the gym, right?

Tip: You're an idiot of you think you aren't going to need a shower after running 2 miles. Bring a towel.

Exactly why I hate supervising on "college night"

AnnoyingNewbieGirl: I can't seem to get this move.
AnnoyingNewbieBoy: That's because you're too short! It's totally a route for us tall people.
Me: (rage bubbling over because ANG doesn't deserve that kind of crap) Um, Beth Rodden is only 5'1".
ANB: Is she, like, some pro climber?
Me: Uh, yeah. She like totally made the 2nd free ascent of The Nose.
ANB: (who has ZERO idea what he's talking about, but am guessing he thinks "free climbing" means not in the gym?) Yeah, well free climbing is easier 'cuz you can use whatever holds you want.
Me: (All restraint GONE.) Actually, at 5.13 I wouldn't call it "easier"
ANB: *walks away*

Now maybe I'm just old and crotchety (*smirk*) but I can NOT stand these kids, who haven't ever been beyond the YMCA rock gym, telling me what's what. Especially when it's 9.27 and I want to close at 9.30 but people are still dicking around on their "projects".

From the "Not so much annoying as potentially dangerous" Files:
Basically Nice Kid Who Doesn't Have Much Experience But Apparently Thinks He Does: Are there lead routes at Metro Rock?
Me: Yup. There's a bunch. (incredulously) Do you lead?
BNKWDHMEBATHD: Well, no. But I have quickdraws.

Earhole-itis

Here's one for the "bizarre medical issues" file:

My weird ear ringing/dizzy spells have continued since the first onslaught after Christmas. It's nowhere near as bad, but kind of annoying. So, I made a doctor's appointment, you know, just to see if it was anything or if I was just crazy.

The doctor did a bunch of bizarre tests involving me sitting up, lying down, moving my head, closing my eyes, walking in a straight line. She was trying to bring on the dizzyness. (Oh, it had already been brought!) No luck. Looking in my ears didn't show anything amiss. She assured me I wasn't crazy or delusional and what was probably wrong with me was something called Labyrinthitis.

No, really. Apparently David Bowie is fucking with my inner ear. Jerk.

The best part? It will most likely go away on its own IN A COUPLE OF MONTHS.

Now I Can Get Back to Worrying About What's Really Important

Namely, my hair.

Yes, the hair is back. After my last hair disaster, I decided to go see the experts: The Russians.

I see Sveta every couple of months for a bikini wax and figured anyone that expert and adept at ripping hair off my crotch must know where to get a decent haircut. Luckily, the spa is a full service facility for all types of hair, and I got an appointment with Mary for a cut and color.

I'm not going to mince words here: She gave me the best haircut EVER. Seriously, ever. It's ironic that someone who's first language is NOT Enlgish, and who learned to speak it mostly by watching Oprah (from what I can gather), was able to understand EXACTLY what I wanted done. The haircut has met and exceeded all of my expectations. It's totally perfect.

And also purple.

Knowledge is obsession

While I was at work today, I started looking up the calories in various foods. I do this periodically to freak myself out. Like reading about Morgellon's Disease. Shock therapy or something. Anyway, I set up one of those accounts where you log everything you eat and it tells you how many calories, fat, etc. you had. It also gives you an overall grade for your food for the day. I got a C+. And that's not counting the glass of wine I'm drinking right now.

I was a little feaked out when I saw how much I had consumed. I mean, it wasn't ridiculous, and I think some of the portions are off, but damn. Part of this I have to blame on the chick who made my coffee at Starbucks this morning. I ordered a cappuccino and she gave me a LATTE. I didn't realize it until I got to work and took a sip and I wasn't about to drive back and demand a new coffee. I was already 15 minutes late as it was. That bitch cost me FIFTY CALORIES!

Braveheart Syndrome

Tonight, I had what is hands down the best run of my life. And by best I mean, I didn't feel like I was going to die after 5 minutes and for a good portion of it, I didn't hate running.

It's so totally the iPod.

I put a bunch of new music on there yesterday in the hopes that it would stop playing Leadbelly so freaking much. It worked. Kinda. Leadbelly has been replaced by Mambo Cubano! which makes me want to swivel my hips and beat some timbales. Hard to do while running. Especially for someone who's equilibrium is not 100% reliable.

The best part came when I was running through the parking lot of The Big Lie and some rousing Celtic anthem came on. I think it may have been something by Old Blind Dogs. I immediately picked up my pace and charged across the moor, Claymore brandished high vowing to overthrow the Hanovarians/British/Protestants! I was Bonnie Prince Charlie! I was Michael Collins! I was Braveheart without the anti-semitism!

And then I was Tito Puente.

2007: The year of the wing.

I'm still wondering how the holidays and a whole year managed to slip by without me realizing it. All I realized is that I am old and lame and went to bed at 12:02 the other night.

I hosted a family party (and I dipped no one's hand in a jar of acid) on New Year's Eve. I don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to that, but it certainly wasn't "I hope that every chicken wing in the world makes its way to my house." Luckily my brother invited a bunch of his friends over and force fed them wings. I don't even like wings, and I especially don't like finding them in drawers, behind furniture and under the dishwasher. (I just discovered an ENTIRE TRAY of uncooked wings chilling on my back porch. Ahhahahahahah.) I declare 2007 to be the year of the Wing.

I think the best part of deciding to have this party (which actually turned out all right, all wings considered) was getting sick the Wednesday after Christmas and lazing about in bed until Sunday when I organized a frantic oh my god people can NOT see how I live, must scrape pigeon shit off the stairs, who's idea was it to make wings anyway, cleaning binge.

I don't know what was/is wrong with me, but signs point to something fucked up with my ears, because i spent most of last week without equilibrium and being unable to move my head without feeling like I was going to throw up and walking into more things than usual. I'm getting used to the constant ringing in my ears and really, who needs to move their head anyway? (It's kind of like being drunk and having the room spin, except I did not have the pleasure of getting drunk.) My doctor is on vacation until Jan. 7, so I did not seek medical attention and instead drank 24 cans of Diet Ginger Ale.

My fitness/diet (ha!) regimine has been seriously thrown off by the holidays and the swimmy head business, but I tried to recoup my losses (or more accurately, my gains) and hit the gym. I must say that the iPod Shuffle (aka the musical postage stamp) was particularly kind to me tonight and played songs I actually wanted to hear. I don't know where the Shuffle gets off claiming to play a random assortment of your music library because it clearly does not. No, my workout is soundtracked by the whims of a tiny silver dictator. And for some reason, it LOVES Leadbelly, which is all well and good, but he makes me want to kill myself rather than run another 20 minutes. Also, there are songs that I am convinced I am NEVER GOING TO HEAR because we need to play Coin Operated Boy 4 times in 20 minutes.

In speaking of dictators, I must confess that when the news revealed that Saddam Hussein had been executed I immediately went online to try and see the footage. I sort of hate myself for watching this, but I simply couldn't NOT watch. Luckily the video (clearly taken with someone's camera phone) was shakey and of poor quality, but still, it was pretty horrific. I found it a bit absurd that the media was all concerned about showing/not showing the execution when OBVIOUSLY it was going to be put on the internet 5 minutes after the event? I should totally be reading F. Scott Fitzgerald or something instead of watching this kind of stuff.

Thursday-Yes-I-Realize-It's-Friday-13

My 13 Favorite Christmas Songs

(in no particular order, except the first one. Er, first TWO.)

1. Santa Baby- Even though I have no idea how even Santa could fit a DUPLEX into a christmas stocking.

2. Blue Christmas- But only when sung by Elvis. And never when sung by Porky Pig.

3. O Holy Night- My brother adores Mariah Carey's version, but I prefer Mahalia Jackson.

4. Good King Wenceslas- Admittedly it's not even about Christmas, rather St. Stephen's Day which is the 26th (aka Boxing Day), but I still like it.

5. Here we go a-wassailing- I think the best part about wassailing (besides singing to trees) is Ye Olde New England's interpretation: Although wassailing is often described in innocuous and sometimes nostalgic terms, the practice has not always been considered so innocent. In fact in early New England wassailing was associated with rowdy bands of young men who would enter the homes of wealthy neighbors and demand free food and drink in a trick-or-treat fashion. If the householder refused, he was usually cursed, and occasionally his house was vandalized. Nothing says Christmas like drunken vandalism!

6. O Little Town of Bethlehem- Even though it doesn't paint what I would consider to be a realistic picture of what Bethlehem was like. I mean, O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie! Dude, I was so there and there was nothing still about it. It was totally a party town.

7. Christmas on Christmas Island- Actually it was a toss up between this one and "Xmas on the Isthmus of Panama", but I would like to hang my stocking from a coconut tree regardless. (How can you not love a song that rhymes "isthmus" with Christmas? Brilliant!

8. Sleigh Ride- This song totally rocks. Even when performed by an 8th grade orchestra.

9. Jingle Bells- Especially when Diana Krall sings it, although the end is a bit bizarre; she says emphatically "I just really love horses!" I think she hit her head when her sleigh got upsot.

10. Carol of the Bells- It's actually kind of creepy, and makes me feel frantic, like I suddenly realized it's Christmas and I haven't done a thing to get ready. Shit.

11. Holly and Ivy- All wholesome and traditional. Like me.

12. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen- Ahhh. Comfort and Joy, like a hot cup of wassail. Just the thing to save me from Satan's Power when I have gone astray.

13. We Three Kings- The darker side of Christmas, all doom and gloom and bitter perfume.

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

Giving Starbucks the Big Middle Finger

You know, by getting my gingerbread latte at Dunkin Donuts for ½ the price and in about ¼ the time. Yes, yes, venti breve ristretto, blah blah blah. Whatever.

You’d think with all the holiday themed drinks I’ve been consuming that I would be on top of Christmas. This is not the case. Actually, I had not even realized that Christmas was coming until I looked at the calendar last Friday and saw that it was a week away. So, my sister and I threw ourselves into a shopping frenzy only coming to our senses when we realized we were about to buy the most ridiculous presents EVER. Who the hell wants black licorice allsorts for Christmas? Answer: No One.
(Except maybe these people. Who are decidedly NOT on our list.)

I debated the idea of Getting a Christmas Tree vs. Not Getting a Christmas Tree. I was inclined to go with “Not” because the damn thing would only be up for a week. Then I thought, Who the hell am I kidding? Knowing me, I’ll leave the damn thing up until March.

Enter Ernie’s Discount Trees. While driving back from a disappointing trip to the Christmas Barn where all the good ornaments had been bought by the TOUR BUS full of old people that got there ahead of us, we spied a wee Christmas Tree stand on the side of the road. I was determined not to spend more than $10 on a tree, $15 max. so “Discount Trees” seemed like a good place to stop.

Ernie (we are guessing, unless he is operating under false pretenses) greeted us and said, Any tree, $10. Perfect! We picked out a small, slightly pathetic looking tree, although not the Charlie Brown-est tree. I feel strangely sad for the sad looking trees with sparse branches and falling needles, but apparently not THAT sad, as I opted for a slightly better (but not much) class of tree.

We exchanged a few pleasantries with Ernie and he chainsawed off the bottom of our tree (which I should so totally fireproof except I have no idea what “chelated iron” is.*) and expertly loaded it into the back of my car (now upholstered with needles) explaining, “I’ve been doing this since before you were born.” I don’t doubt it.

My sister and I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get the tree to stand up straight. We were unsuccessful and the tree leans in a slightly disconcerting way. It looked like it might topple over into the center of the living room, so we turned it around so that it’s leaning more toward the wall. Feng Tree Sway? Whatever.

Thursday 13 Things I Would Like For Christmas

1. Kitchenaid Mixer- But seriously, who doesn't want one?
2. Some nice knives- And I promise to take care of them and not put them in the dishwasher, practice knife throwing, etc.
3. iPod- I am the ONLY person ON EARTH who doesn't have one.
4. One of the best movies EVER MADE.
5. This T-shirt.
6. DKNY Red Delicious
7. Fur lined hat with earflaps.
8. Home Nacho Maker Ok, not really. Actually, I can't believe this product even exists.
9. A retired Greyhound.
10. A housekeeper
11. Smartwool socks- Only the best socks on the planet.
12. A Sherpa jacket
13. A sherpa.

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

The Janitor at Cock Hates Me

He only empties my tras like, 2x per week and its not that I have a lot of trash, but he empties everyone else's trash and constantly overlooks mine.

I have no idea why he hates me because the only conversation I have ever had with him (besides, good morning and thanks) was when I agreed with him that smoking is bad for your health.

My Jacket Smells Like Bethlehem

Which, incidentally, is a lot like smoke, incense and sheep.

I dragged my sister and King to see the Living Nativity last night. I was expecting... well, I guess a donkey and a bunch of people in robes and maybe a fake baby Jesus.


Instead it was more like: And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.([And] this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)Luke 2:1

When it was our turn to fill out the census, my brother learned just how much Latin he doesn't know.

Roman Census Taker: Quam vetus es vos?
Me: *stage whisper* I think he's asking how old you are
King Devon: uhhhhhhhhhhhh, *looks around* XX?
Roman Census Taker: viginti?
Minischooligan: If you went to Starbucks more you totally would have known that.

Seriously, the whole thing was SO. COOL. The church had recreated a replica of the whole village of Bethlehem complete with Centurions, Wise men, and A CAMEL! Oh, yeah, and lots and lots of people in robes. And the best fake Baby Jesus ever.

The coolest thing was that the whole thing was conducted entirely in Latin (Note to self: Do not let King act in loco parentis, Hebrew (Shalom!) and Arabic (A'yaad meelad Saeedah!). Unfortunately we had forgotten to brush up on our language skills before hitting the Bethlehem, so we mostly just walked around wide eyed, confused and occasionally shouting, SHALOM!

I So Totally Hate it When They Are Right

You know, those people that advocate working out in the MORNING because you are less likely to blow it off than if you go after work or whatever. I'm just not the person to be able to get up at 6am and go running. Anymore. I used to be all UP AND AT 'EM, but now I am more like, UNNNNGGHHHHHHHHH! 5 More minutes!

Anyway, I had this brilliant idea while walking back from the pharmacy last night. I decided to bribe myself into getting up early to go workout. With a gingerbread coffee from Starbucks. Yes yes, Starbucks is bad, etc. I don't normally go for the frou-frou drinks, but there is something about the taste of artificially flavored gingerbread in my coffee that I absolutely love. Actually, I get a gingerbread mocha to which all the Starbucks people always respond, Venti Non-fat Gingerbread MOCHA*?, and I say, yes MOCHA. Today the chick asked me twice if I really wanted that. TWICE. Whatever, it's delicious. I've also decided to rename it the GingerBat, and am going to suggest that they market it at halloween. Seriously, I am a genious.

*It's especially annoying when people can order a half-caff venti, two pump maple, half eggnog half WHIPPING CREAM, caramel drizzle latte and they don't bat an eye.

I'm in Love with Dylan McKay

No, really. The first season of 90210 came out on DVD (finally!) this month and OF COURSE I sent it straight to the top of my Netflix queue, I mean if there is any show that is representative of my generation this would have to be it. Even when they all got old and involved in ridiculous plotlines (Um, Dylan's sister Erica is a crack whore?)

Last night I watched the episode where Dylan and Brenda go out for the first time after he freaks out because his dad is all sketchy and Jim Walsh (who, like Slevs said, seems to spend the entire first season wandering around looking baffled.) is all, "I don't like that Dylan. His dad is being indicted for securities fraud." (Ok, I don't even know what securities fraud is. It makes no more sense to me that it did in 1990. All I know is that it is BAD and involves lots of money. And a witness protection program.) Anyway, it was like being 14 again, because Luke Perry IS SO HOTTT, and I was all *sigh* and "I wish I could go out with Dylan McKay." Which brings up the question of, What the hell is Luke Perry doing these days? I mean after his rollicking success in Buffy the Vampire Slayer (not as good as the TV show) and one of my most embarassing favorite movies (right up there with Seven Brides for Seven Brothers) 8 Seconds where he plays the ill-fated bull rider Lane
Frost (based on a true story).
If you haven't seen this movie, please do. If only to watch the cowboy wedding scene (Luke Perry wearing a STRING TIE!*)

Update: Apparently he was in a terrible movie in 2005 and is vaguely upset by the African HIV situation. He's also doing an HBO series by the guy who did Deadwood, and therefore has the potential to not suck. SHIT!

*Yes, I know it's called a BOLO, but STRING TIE is so much funnerer to say. When I waited tables at the dude ranch I had to wear one. The King got me a special one for my birthday that had a gigantic western saddle. STRING TIE!