[thanks toÂ Violet Shuraka and her sweatshop of comely persons!]
An unassuming but delicious salad from my childhood:
2 packs pistachio pudding mix
1 20 oz can crushed pineapple
1 tub of thawed Cool Whip
tiny marshmallows and chopped walnuts to taste
Gobble accordingly, my friends. My fellow Americans, I know how to make the salad. I know where to get the marshmallows.
I am so bringing this to Thanksgiving this year. People won’t know what hit them. They’ll wish they had healthcare that allowed mandatory screenings for AWESOME.
Will I ever finish the September Vogue? I have sprained my page turning hand. I couldn’t finish it during an entire double process color appointment. Will the feed from this blog stop BREAKING and dumping crap everywhere? Sry Kthx. I would upgrade everything, to Word Press and something reasonable like Feed Burner, but I got as far as making a Feed Burner account, and then it tells me to do an installation step that is NOT THERE in the Blogger console. Hmm. I guess I should migrate to WP first. But this is something like work, and I have enough damn work. And I don’t care anymore, or rather I have not cared for many anymores. [N.B.: In 37 more months, this post will migrate to WordPress or south for the winter.]
This past weekend, I ate an excellent sandwich. I am about to launch a new site about what to eat in Lowell. It will be called What To Eat in Lowell. This is funny to me because I have Asperger’s. OMG so I ate a sandwich. It was so good! It was so good the cops came. Well, a cop came to the establishment where I had the sandwich, and he got his own sandwich. Or maybe it was a bagel. I can’t keep up with law enforcement and their ample square bottoms. But the real deal is that before the sandwich, we saw a red tailed hawk hold a pigeon down on a street corner and step on its neck until it was dead. Or I guess it died when the hawk ripped its head half off. Then the hawk carried the pigeon down the main street and perched on a traffic light. So that’s one thing to eat in Lowell right there.
What does one do when confronted with the majesty of nature like that? Camera phone! That’s behind the paywall only. Ybab has learned to flap her arms and say “Flap flap RAWRRRR.” Of course that’s what the bird says. Birds here in Rand McNally are giant metal robots that decapitate smaller birds.
I got an email imploring me to do just that. They must mean continue doing exactly what I am doing: eating a bagel while not wearing pants while ybab scavenges for sesame seeds. I can afford this! And certainly it is chic. I am sure celebrities do this all the time, when they aren’t busy doing other things that they also do.
I get many more emails than just advertisements from Worst Elm. The mind boggles. People feel I should do work at a schedule of their own choosing. Other people feel the need to be unreasonable about things pertaining to my personal life. Hi! Hi! I am going on an email boycott soon. I am going to print out each email I receive and shred it. This is the greatest idea since individually wrapped cheese slices. The alternative is to start telling people off, but that is the equivalent of eating a giant block of chocolate. It feels good at the time, but then things start to chafe. The Chafing of the Consequences. This is a national tragedy.
Hey, I had 911 posts. This domain expires in July. Should I push the stupid pedal to the metal and flame out with 1000? I think I can do it.
Let’s talk about Lost. I know some of you haven’t watched the finale yet or are waiting for the deeveedee, like peasants. I will only say that all the people who are speculating about the identity of the person in the newspaper clipping are morons. If the show runs until 2010, what are thee odds that they will introduce new characters in the next two or three seasons? Oh, I dunno. Let’s leave the numbers to Vegas. Plus I found the screen cap, squinted really hard, and the last name fragment doesn’t match the last name of any known characters. At least not according to the listing on alt.nerd.obsessive.
And I don’t even LIKE Lost. But I was entertained by the finale. I like how that show continually throws me a bone and lets me observe really obvious things and thus feel smart. I am not smart. I’m happily watching network television while eating all manner of snacks, so right there we have a basic tip off about my intelligence level. I didn’t watch most of the last season because I work from ybab bedtime until hell freezes over every night. And last night I did not have any snacks while I watched, but I thought about snacks, and I wished I had some snacks, and I almost got up and went all the way over the kitchen to get some, but snacks are too loud and wake up ybabs. At least in this house. No walls and all. Typing wakes a ybab, for that matter. I am living on borrowed time over here.
I had pie for dinner.
This being a blog, I am sworn to tell you that I slept much better last night. I am still parked in my parking spot. I ate more raisin bread.
I slept so much better because I don’t have a ybab anymore. Last night around bedtime she sprouted leathery wings, scrawwwwwked a horrible scrawwwwwk, and flapped up to a nearby bell tower. While perched in the belfry, she snatched an unlucky river hawk and ripped it to shreds with her fangs until she was caked with blood and feathers. I called the chupacabra who lives in the “medieval prison” section of the park, and he managed to get leg irons on her and drag her away, still spitting and hissing. I am not sure what happened after that, but I don’t much care either.
Ah, how strange, I just heard a knocking outside, rapping on my chamber door and all, and she’s back. She points at everything and calls it a cat most authoritatively. Her tail has fallen off, leaving an unusually long butt crack. I wonder what this can all mean?
Yesterday I almost got run down by a Volvo in the Whole Foods parking lot. I jumped aside just in time, and a Volkswagen pounced and ate the Volvo. Now that’s natural selection. Inside Whole Foods, a child was enraged that only brown eggs were left for purchase. She was dubious on the possibility of them actually taking dye. Her mother berated a teenage employee for the egg situation. He failed to conjure white eggs out of thin air, and the mother failed to take responsibility for waiting until the last possible minute to buy eggs to dye.
I was enraged because I saw some cookies that looked good, and the allergy warning only included nuts and wheat. But then the third ingredient was butter. I wanted cookies! I did not berate anyone, but I should have.
This morning, my little piglet awoke at three ayem. She did not opt to capitulate until well past five ayem. At this time, the Director of Software got a call from his boss to say that He is risen, but the servers are down. Fine. We are all risen at five ayem. We give up and let the small beastie sit in a pile of puffed rice cereal watching Sponge Bob while we lie on the floor moaning.
I have about six drafts saved in here. Maybe you would have preferred to read “Take the Krugerrand and run.” But you won’t read that one. The subject was the best part anyway.
I am up to no good. Others were up to no good first, but I can’t change the situation, only how I Lord grant me the serenity, Britney. You can’t go home again, Britney. Especially when home is infested with menacing dust particles. Ask the dust. Ask away. The dust will tell you all about the Federal Reserve.
Today I had a green soda. I never have soda. But it looked so convincing in the case. It purported to be lime soda on the English label, but it was something else entirely. Battle kitty had a single black bean and part of a napkin. It was nice to walk in the sun.
Well, doggies, innernet! I best not leave you for another week without a post. That is mighty inhospitable. If things ever grind to a halt without my presence, I trust you will lean hard against the wind and steer the prow of your browser to double u double u double u dot wikipedia dot org and view my very favorite entry: Fallacy. Seriously, you could stay there all day! Then this is my second favorite entry, the red herring. If only they’d had Wikipedia ten or fifteen years ago. I wouldn’t have bothered with college. If they’d had IMDB, that might have been nice too. Just the other day, I had to make sure that Henry Ian Cusick is not the same person as James Callis. I am confused by hairstyles. Also, all white people look alike. Also, I can’t find my glasses.
What else is new? Well, I made a vegan chocolate cake to celebrate ybab’s eight month birthday (for me, not her). I even did that Martha Stewart business where one protects the pedestal of the cake stand with parchment paper while I shellacked it with icing. It looked beautiful! But it tasted like ass (the answer is yes, and you’ve tasted it too, I’ll warrant, so stop with the Happy Gilmore line of questioning). A ybab was returned early, and I overcooked the cake part. Oops. A ybab can stand up and walk around the room while holding the finger of a responsible adult (i.e. not me). This is terrifying.