The lovely and talented Lady Who Doesn't Lunch recently tricked me into meeting her for lunch - I should have known! - to accept an award and then slipped me a meme when I wasn't looking. I don't want to talk about waking up, groggy and wishing I could have caught the little man who shit in my mouth while I was out. I don't want to talk about how later I discovered a list of suggested, mandatory topics for my blog. I just don't want to talk about it. OKAY? How's that saying go? "Beware of geeks bearing gifts"? No, that doesn't sound right. Or does it? Anyway, the kiss she left on my forehead was a nice pink that went well with my complexion so I'm telling myself that she was gentle.
I'm duty-bound to tell you five of my obsessions and five of my dislikes. To be honest, my very first dislike, even though we'll get to the rest later, is the clip art that comes with this shifty award.
Helloooooooo, Laura Ashley!
And anyway, the theme of this thing is obsession and dislike, right? Shouldn't the clip art reflect that? I propose the following and shall be adopting it as mine:
(Any of you photoshop whizzes out there up for putting some words on it? Send your creativity to me at guenosdias847 at gmail dot com and the one I like best will be overly lauded in a gross display of adoration in a post and displayed in my sidebar forever. FOREVER, I say.)
Well, we've got a lot of ground to cover so we'd best get to it . . .
Things I'd Bore You With If We Met In Person
Craigslist. Oh, Mary, Mother of Jesus, have I gotten sucked into craigslist. It all started when I was checking it out to sell a couple things - a pampered chef mandolin slicer that
was crap and overpriced I got two of as gifts and a cat-litter tub full of monkey poop (great for your garden!) - when I discovered the furniture section. PEOPLE, I CAN SHOP FOR ANTIQUES AND THINGS I WANT FOR THE HOUSE IN MY UNDERWEAR. And it's cheap! When I die, I want my ashes sold on craigslist. Here's what I've gotten so far, for only $65 total, a sum which does not include the value of not having been murdered:
Vintage sewing table and chair, $40.
It even came with old electric scissors in one of the drawers.
And the chair seat flips up for storage.
Mission style chair and ottoman, $25.
Big enough for a girl with a book and a cat or two.
Still needs a home. I foretell a lot of furniture getting moved on Sunday.
Cooking. Ever since the weekend I made a weekend's worth of great meals out of a can of beans and a cucumber, I can't get out of the kitchen. Maybe I should get pregnant and take off my shoes. On second thought, I'll just take off my shoes. Anyway, behold last weekend's super fantastic late Sunday lunch:
Brined pork chops stuffed with fontina cheese and fresh basil (from my garden) with a mixed-greens salad topped with cucumber and fresh mozzarella with a vinegar/lemon/soy dressing. The dressing made the cheese taste nutty which makes me think I should have added a nut or a seed for some crunch and to amp up that flavor. Either way, it was better than awesomesauce.
The Grapes of Wrath. I cannot believe that in the four years I spent in college-prep English, in the four years I spent earning a degree in Journalism and English, and in the lifetime I've spent as a voracious reader I have never read this book. It is awesome. Beautifully written and poignant and engaging. I get lost every time I open it. I picked it up during the five minutes it took my work computer to restart today. Both times. I'm not very far into it, and outside general themes, I've kept myself in the dark about it so please,
I'll cut you if you spoil anything no spoilers.
My garden. I just had a week or two of full bloom and it was spectacular. I took some video of it to post here but the video was too big and I'm too blissfully ignorant to edit it. As soon as things bloom again, I'll try again. I also can't stop planting new things. So many of my friends garden so we swap a lot of stuff and once people know their plants will be safe at your house, they freely give away their cast-offs and overgrowth. This week I added artemesia, lantana, a ton of herbs (sage, thyme, lemon balm, a lemony mint, cilantro, rosemary), some vinca, some begonias, and I moved a Japanese barberry bush. Yes, this is definitely an obsession.
Eating babies. Well, not actually eating-eating them. Let's be clear, I have never eaten a baby. But I can't stop daydreaming about it. I can't sleep and nothing tastes the same anymore. I mean, come on, they just have to be the most juicy, tender thing ever. Right? And they already live on milk. I image they'd be like veal, only better because you wouldn't have the hassle of building a fence or anything. I think a pack-n-play only runs about $50. Even at $100, you're saving some serious scratch.
Things That Will Make Me Mad At You
People who tell you that the person you are trying to reach by telephone is in a meeting so you should call back in an hour. Listen up, lazy asses, if you had the energy to pick up the damn phone and answer it, you've got the wherewithal to take a fucking message. I've made myself clear. Let's not have to discuss this again.
See above. New clip art. Remember? Sheesh, that was only a couple paragraphs ago. Typical Americans.
Whiskeymarie. I know, I know, I know. We're supposedly best blog friends - blog wives, she even said once - and I did love her. I loved our playful banter, with its give and take and hilarity. I loved how meeting her was like meeting a taller, prettier, more awesome version of me, even if she does have man hands. I loved it all and I'm sad to see this love affair friendship end, but this time she went too far. A week or so ago, she started a rumor over at Benny's place that I eat babies. Disgusting. I have never. And I have no fucking clue how she could have concocted such a libelous story. But it didn't end at Benny's. No, she had to go and make up some addle-brained letter from me wherein I supposedly admit this grotesque villainy and that, monkeys, was the straw that broke the juice box. Maybe in time I'll be able to forgive her but I'll never forget.
People who keep teen-aged Chinese contortionists as pets. Now if this isn't the most inhumane thing I've ever heard of, well, I certainly don't know what is. Baby seals? Terrible. Wild birds stuck in an oil spill? Horrific. But we're talking people here, people. If you cut a contortionist, does he not bleed? Does he not FEEL? And yet, there are people, PEOPLE WE THOUGHT WE KNEW, that are keeping these tiny, bendy souls in cages in their basements for their own amusement. It's sick, I tell ya, and I'm going to do something about it. Call the authorities or something. I know! I'll call Geraldo. Wait, is he still alive?
Bugs. They're just icky. Can't stand 'em.
Big portions of this post are fictitious and don't necessarily reflect the upstanding morals of the management or her BBFF. I've never been in her basement so I can't CONFIRM or deny the Chinese teen story but I can assure you that I don't eat babies. Unless you count Sugar Babies because I like those. Mmmmmmm . . . creamy and sweet, like a baby. Oh, crap.
We're watching you.
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