The Swine Flu

I normally don't like to post twice in one day but I felt like this one was important. My sister, Kathryn, sent it to me yesterday.

Given the recent outbreak of the swine flu I felt it appropriate to share with my readers how to avoid contamination. It's pretty simple and straight forward and could save a lot of pain and heartache in the end.

DON'T DO THIS!!

Who the fetch is Jack and why do I care about his Mannequin?

Tuesday night I will be headed out to the Jack's Mannequin concert with C$ and G-Sauce. I'm super excited because I absolutely love Jack's Mannequin. However I have come to the sad realization that not a lot of people know who Jack is. They've never heard the music! I had assumed, and apparently erroneously, that they were pretty mainstream, that they played on the radio quite a bit and the others also enjoyed the music. But so far, every time I've told someone I'm going to the concert I sit and wait for the ency to glaze over their eyes, rather they look at me and say, "Who's that? What do they sound like?" So here is a sample of what Jack's Mannequin sounds like.

On a musically related note, I got my catalog for the No Doubt concert...a download that gives me access to every single No Doubt song recorded. Amazing, there are songs on there I never knew about and I thought I owned all the albums. Anyway, I was way excited to get that and am looking forward to the concert in June.

You. Are my density.

Tuesday nights at Home Team Grill at the corner of Main and Vine they offer ½ off burgers. This is similar and yet so much better than the $1 burgers offered at Capital Ale House on Monday nights. See the problem with the burgers at Capital Ale house is you get what you pay for, whereas with Home Team Grill it’s you get what you would have paid for on any other night, but for ½ off. Capital Ale also makes you order a drink (they’re hoping alcoholic) and then they suck out all the flavorful goodness that a burger should be. I’m one of those weird people who like to eat their burgers plain, we’re talking bun and burger no additives. I find that if a burger is good then I am not missing out on a whole lot, but rather enjoying the perfection of some short order cook in the back. The burger I had at Capital Ale needed something…my guess was flavor, but whatever. I wanted to grab the salt shaker and go to town, but rather I opted for the ketchup bottle, and even then, it just wasn’t good. I ended up having a $6 tab (which isn’t bad, but when you go for $1 burger night you don’t expect a $6 tab) and the burger was just empty calories if you ask me, no amount of enjoyment derived from it. At Home Team Grill I get a plain burger as well, and the fries come with (did I not mention that the fries are a separate purchase at C.A.H.) and I can drink water if it is what I darn well please to drink and it is what I please to drink. These burgers are divinity on a bun, they are the reason I crave hamburgers at random times, day or night.

Side Note: For those of you who don’t know I spent most of my life avoiding hamburgers from any establishment. The cause is unknown, the only thing I do know is that I never had a desire to order a hamburger from anywhere. In fact, I avoided it at all cost. This is a recent development of mine that came about due to necessity I’m sure, I just can’t remember the necessity.

So last night a group of us went to Home Team Grill for the half off burgers. I had invited Orin and Jordan to come along but they were slow movers and I had assumed that they were not coming. But then I got a call from Jordan (after we had ordered) that they would be joining us (I know that in this moment this doesn’t seem pivotal to the story, and really, it’s not – but it makes the story flow better when I try to be as honest and direct as possible). So they got there after our food had arrived (they were down the street what took so long? But anyway). We pulled up a table and then waited for the waitress to come back over. Orin was asking what she looked like so we could get her attention, but there were so many and well, they all looked the same to me when they came out separately. She finally comes up to take their drink orders and when she left Orin made a comment that she was beautiful. Which made me laugh because he has mentioned before how he feel in love with a waitress and it seems to be a regular occurrence for him to fall in love with girls who serve him food…I just can’t put my finger on the why of it all, hmmm.

So I start to encourage him to say something to her. He says he just gets nervous and shuts down. Then we had a check for her that was left on the table we pulled over so I had it under the ketchup bottle so it wouldn’t blow away (p.s. we were sitting outside) and she came over and Jordan grabbed it and handed it to her and she was grateful and left. I brought Jordan in close (and Orin, he needed to hear this too), I told Jordan that he could not be the waitresses hero, it would have been better had he conferred with the group before handing her the check because what should have happened is that it should have been handed to Orin and he could have been the hero of the evening. These boys need all the help they can get from me. So the night goes on, every time the waitress (Marie) comes over I shot a glance at Orin and he would make a face that would suggest his love for our waitress was more than he could bear. Then, it was as if fate had given us another opportunity for Orin to be the hero. There was another check on the ground, must have blown off one of the tables. Orin picks it up and when she comes back over he tells her this was on the ground, and I’m guessing the tip was good because Orin said, “He really loved you.” She laughed (good job Orin) and then she was trying to remember which customer it was and mentioned that if she hadn’t been working…trail off, and Orin says, “I love you too.” But in a non-creepy way, trust me I was there. It was just the perfect timing. I was so proud of him. Unfortunately Orin doesn’t believe in asking out waitresses, so he did not. But we did establish that he will come and stand outside of the restaurant whenever she is working, rain or shine and just stare in through the window. I told him that he couldn’t ruin this for me, Home Team Grill is the best thing that ever happened to me, ½ off burgers on the one night that I am already downtown for a class, which happens to have plenty of people I love to hang out with after class, and like I said before, you get what you would have gotten had you paid full price. Amazing. That and Jordan and Orin are always fun company and anyone who is reading this who has hung out with them…you know exactly what I’m talking about. I think the phrase is “they had me in stitches”.

But they weren't the only ones there, I feel rude not shouting out to Bryan, Kelli, and Caitlin! Without whom I wouldn't have had the rant on the over empowerment of the government (not as serious as it sounds, but seriously ridiculous) we were talking about dumb laws, because laws are usually there because someone did it and we feel the need to regulate it right? Well...why in the world is it a state or town's business if you want to carry an ice cream cone in your back pocket on a Sunday (seriously Georgia? You want to enact that law?) I just got confused as to when it became important to mandate common sense. So anyway, we were having a good time talking about what we thought was a law, that you couldn't cross the state line with a chicken on your head. I tried to imagine why that would be illegal, I think I would need to know the why to be a law abiding citizen, let's face it, I'm not up for blindly following politicians. Can the chicken cross the state line with you? Just not on your head? Can you just not have a live chicken on your head at the time of crossing? Can said chicken be on your head before and after crossing the state line?? Oh my goodness, I could devote a whole post to dumb laws so I will be shutting up now. Thanks you and good night.

10 Years!! ...Not for the Weak.

Some people blog about how long they have been married, their children's birthdays, the cool things that they have done, etc. I am going to blog about the longest commitment I have ever made. This day, ten years ago, I committed to no longer eat chocolate.



In honor of this momentous occasion I have decided to present you with the ten things of chocolate goodness that I used to adore (and now remember as vaguely as my first love).

#1 Chocolate-Chocolate Chip Cookies - This has to be number one because it is the chocolate-chocolate chip cookie that got me into trouble. I was eating one of these when the dare was issued. And to be honest, I don't even remember what these taste like. Kind of sad in a way.





#2 Cookies and Cream Ice Cream - Because if I didn't feel obligated to name Chocolate-Chocolate chip cookies as number one this would have been the winner.



#3 Cadbury Creme Eggs - We're talking good memories here! I have to admit that holidays just aren't the same when you don't eat chocolate (Not that I'm going to start, look at my list - I would gain 300 pounds in a week if I started to eat chocolate again). But these take me back to my childhood. Sticky fingers from melting chocolate in one hand as my pointer finger from the other scooped out the goods. Sweet, sticky messiness.





#4 Reese's Peanut Butter Cups - Nuff said.



#5 Fudge - Chocolate so rich it tickles your mouth.






#6 The Entenmann's chocolate covered doughnut.





#7 Oreos - and that's how I used to eat them too (oh if only mom had let me). Thank goodness for Golden Oreos...and I actually like them better than anything chocolate.



#8 Butterfingers - I think I loved the way to eat them more than anything. Pick off all of the chocolate with your teeth, and then (with your teeth again) pick off a layer at a time of the crispy peanut butter.









#9 The Thin Mint - Mint and chocolate, and they were crunchy. So good. I have actually found a replacement for these. I make brown sugar cookies and then I add in Andies Peppermint Chips (no chocolate). The taste reminds me of them (may be off a little) and I love them!

#10 Brownies a la Mode - Come on...ice cream and chewy brownie...together? What's not to like? And yet I haven't partaken in ten years.

That' s my list! I hope you all survived, I admit it probably wasn't nice of me to throw in the visuals. Sorry about that - but for the first 2 years it wasn't nice for anyone to eat chocolate. Karma.
I get by with my none chocolate things though (thank goodness). Thanks to everyone who has looked out for me and shame on all of you who have tried to trip me up. I know this post was probably the most boring thing I have ever posted, so thanks for hanging in there to this point.

Mental Health

Almost everyday I see a sign that points to Hollywood Cemetery. I have been to H.C. many times before, but I have never been by myself. For those of you who don't know (and technically that still includes myself) a little background on Hollywood Cemetery. This cemetery was designed to be dual functioning. Not only is it a resting place for the deceased, but it is also like a park. Not an incredibly amusing park, but one where you walk trails, contemplate life, break a sweat, all in the comfort of being surrounded by dead people's last resting place.


Sounds creepy, and I admit for someone with an overactive imagination such as myself it tends to creep me out. Another cool thing about H.C. though is that a lot of famous people are buried there, famous in a political - founding fathers kind of way, which to me is way better than famous-famous.


Not to mention that even though I know now my sister (Joanna) was making it up when she told me that the ground was soft on graves was because the dead person was going to reach up and pull me in and trade places with me (and my family would love the deceased person better), I still have this slight fear of walking on too close to graves. What I'm saying is, I did a cool thing going by myself to H.C.


The weather was beautiful, not too hot - not too cold, all I needed was a light sweater*. I went with the intent and purpose of working on my story, of going to a bench/tombstone that I had been to before when letter boxing and sitting down and writing my heart out. What I ended up doing was pulling out my camera and taking pictures. Eventually though I went to the presidential steps, sat at the top and overlooked the river. Then I did write, I wrote quite a bit, but it wasn't for the story I was hoping to overcome my writer's block for...it was the "second" story, the sequel if you will, which may never come to fruition (let's be honest, neither story will). But anyway, long story incredibly shortened though it might be too late for that. Here are some pictures I took from H.C. ...enjoy.

My view of the river when I finally sat down to write.
The train that distracted me and I thought, "Oh Jacob (my nephew) would love to see this!

A bench, which I personally wouldn't have sat on anyway, but after I noticed something a little off I definitely wouldn't sit down on it.

...and in case you are visually impaired it is that this is a trileg bench...not a good idea

Some views....

I have a ton more pictures of flowers, but I figure this is enough.

Say hello to McCreepy. While taking the picture I kept half expecting him to move, which would have probably scared me to death. But I had my heart pumping rapidly with the simple thought that he might move. Maybe say G'day. This is why I don't go to places like cemeteries on my own. I have an over active imagination.

The next ones are just photos that I took that I thought would look better in black and white (really it's just the "charcoal" feature)

And if that weren't enough...the highlight of the day would be this gem. Notice what the license plates says. I couldn't get a better shot because I noticed it while at a stop light, and I was waiting to make a left hand turn. As I got my camera out the light turned green and I had people behind me so I just started moving and hoped for the best. All things considered I think it turned out well.

Well, that's it for today, hope you enjoyed!

I've had some smelly ones before but yours by far is the smelliest

My roommates and I are having a bit of a problem with neighbors. It's to be expected, not only do we live in the suburbs, but we also live in a cul-de-sac.

Neighbors are "friendlier" there, but a lot more nosey as well. We should have figured when the two little boys that live across the street started to spill the beans about the neighbors. They knew everyone, in every house, and who drove which cars. It didn't take them long to learn all of our names and which cars we drove. If the children are like that then what must the adults be like?

Don't get me wrong, I like my neighbors. I'm not used to their level of friendliness, but I like them. Neighbor to the left...whose name I never remember is always looking out for us. He let's us know if one of the tires in the car is getting low, etc. Neighbor to the right however, is just creepy. I call him Ted Bundy and I wish that he wouldn't hang out in his driveway in nothing but what appears to be a pair of swimming trunks.

Anyway, on to my week. It all start Sunday morning when the cops were called on my dog. That's right, Chubbers that little fiend. He's totally going through his teenage rebellious stage and on Sunday apparently struck the final nerve with one of my neighbors. He likes to get out of the yard (his nickname is Houdini). We quickly brought him back in but less than an hour later there was a loud, heart quickening knock on the door. My roommate went to answer it and was face to face with a cop...never saw his car, but that's alright...why would a cop park outside of the house he was going to? And why was I looking around for his car while he was talking to me? Cause he was talking to me only a few minutes after he knocked on the door. If I can't keep Chubbers locked away then I could be hit with some serious fines. I understood the gravity of the situation, but I was still bugged about it.

I got over it though, I make sure that Chubber's can't get out and pretty soon I'll fix the back porch so that he can't jump right off or push through my makeshift "fence". The rest of the week was going moderately well. I was apparently oblivious to the notice taped to our door talking about our grass and the "friendly" stranger who came knocking saying that he heard we needed our grass cut.

We are but four single girls living sans lawn mower and for the past year have depended on our old roommate's dad to mow the lawn. That arrangement seems to no longer be on. So we were making new arrangements to borrower a lawn mower and to mow the lawn ourselves. I admit the grass was a little out of control, but we're all busy and like I said, sans mower. We finally got the mower on Wednesday, I planned to mow the lawn on Thursday. Thursday afternoon my land lady calls my cell phone and tells me that they received a notice about our grass and how it was in violation of some 12-inch regulation.

Eh...it probably was...but still. Then she says that the notice says we have until the 28th to mow the grass or we will be fined $250. Have I ever said that I hate the government? Seriously? You can regulate the grass length? I was a sociology major, I get the whole exorbitant fines to keep people in line, especially the lower class since they really can't afford to pay such fines. But I also have a little pride in me that only too well remembers conflict theory. That and I've always kind of been looking for a good fight. Part of me didn't want to mow the lawn just because someone had a problem with our yard. One of our neighbors ratted us out, no doubt the same one trying to put my dog in the clink.

I don't mean to rant, and I don't think I did that badly, and just because it made it into the blog doesn't mean that I don't take it seriously. I take it seriously...it just annoys me.

I can't help but think that we are viewed as the trashy house in the neighborhood. "The renters" who don't mow their lawn, have a rabid dog on the loose, and are just a lower class than the rest. Pretty soon we'll have old cars hanging out on the front lawn on cinder blocks (after we just replace the grass with dirt) and we'll rent some guy with a pot belly and wife beater who can hang outside in a lawn chair smoking cigarettes all day and drinking beer. At least it would give Neighbor on the Right, Ted Bundy, someone to get along with.

I carry a pencil, I'm a lawyer, that's what I do!

I'm accident prone, I believe that this has been established numerous times. However, nothing too bad has happened in the past couple of years. No broken bones, no major car accidents, no high degree burns (granted I hit my head with my straightener the other day and then there is the oven burn when I tried to warm a girl scout cookie (bad idea by the way)...and this is when I realize that I don't think I have blogged about my experience trying to warm a girl scout cookie in the oven...I think it is so. That story must come first now).

Okay, so I'm accident prone, I still have ten fingers, ten toes, both eyes, ears, a nose, etc. I was going to tell you that I have advanced to just dropping things, but as I write all the little accidents keep coming to mind.

(Okay, I feel like I've blogged this, so if it's a repeat I'm sorry). A lot of few weeks ago (back when girl scout cookies had just come out) I was eating one of the short bread cookies. As I was chewing on this morsel of heaven I thought to myself, "I bet this would taste good warmed up." As most cookies do. So I took another bite and then walked over to the oven, which was already on because sometimes in the wintry days I would turn it on while I was in the kitchen for warmth. I pulled open the oven door and looked into the burning hot cavern and a thought popped into my mind, "fold up a piece of foil and set the cookie on it." I looked at the rack in the middle, mentally measuring the distance between one rod to the next and thought, "naw, I can place it right on the rack." That little thought that had popped into my head wheezed away like a balloon that someone had been working on but hadn't yet tied off, and as it wheezed away I heard a harsh whisper, "fine moron." I felt certain that I could place the cookie directly on the rack and not have to worry about preparing a piece of foil for a safer and smarter way to do this. But even with all my certainty there was still a speck of doubt. So like any intelligent, college graduate I put my right hand between the two racks and prepared to drop the cookie with my left. The right hand would easily catch it should it fall through, and the left had to drop it to avoid direct skin to hot metal contact. It was the perfect plan. What I forgot to factor in was the fact that when something scares me my whole body jumps in some way or another. I also forgot to factor in that just like you can't look at both eyes in a staring contest, you can't concentrate on both hands when they are in danger and must retreat in opposite directions. As the left hand dropped the cookie (this is in slow motion by the way) the right hand braced itself to stay still, no sudden movements. As the cookie slowly approached it's failing point, the point it was sure to turn ever so slightly and fall through the crack, my left hand was already on it's panic course. Having built up the anxiety of how much it would hurt to accidentally hit the metal rack in the middle of the oven my left had reacted as though it actually did...when it had in fact, not touched it at all. The result: My right hand stay perfectly still, not even moving slightly to catch the cookie as it indeed had fallen straight through, while my left hand flung up to the roof of the oven. Once there, the red hot coils seared the delicate flesh of the backside of my hand. ...So what did I do you might ask? Well, I don't like to experience pain for no gain, so I grabbed the cookie, put it on the counter and I stuck my hand under the ice cold water (which is painful for me because my hands are usually cold and when they have contact with cold water they are slow to recover and they actually hurt). After 2.5 seconds I grabbed a piece of foil, folded it up, and put the cookie back in the oven, then I went back to the water until I felt ample time had passed for the cookie to warm. Then I went and bit into it.
I would like to be able to tell you that the warmed shortbread cookie was quite possibly the best thing that man has ever tasted. I would like to tell you that I felt all the pain had been worth it. But unfortunately all I can tell you is that a warmed shortbread cookie taste (and feels) about the same way it would had you left the package opened, in your car during a heat wave...for three weeks.
Oh and I would like to have a happy ending and tell you some incredible benefit from this story and say, "but not all is lost" but really, all was lost, the rest of the cookie was a waste, time and energy that I'll never get back, a square of foil that served no real purpose in this life. If I was looking for self mutilation I would have achieved something that day, but as is...nothing.

Now the "simply dropping" spaghetti story is not nearly as interesting, and therefore I will just graze over it quickly, if even at all. I lost a whole box of spaghetti to the germ infested floor the other night. That's it. It fell, not once, not twice, but in three different events. So long 78 cent box of angel haired pasta, you shall be missed.

And just in case any of you thoroughly enjoy my stories of blood and carnage that my oh so high IQ can't even seem to stop, there is the most recent story of the butter and knife.

I was making rice, fried rice but not really, more like half fried rice the way my mom makes it. To do this, you start out with butter. I had purchased butter sticks a few weeks ago for just such culinary needs as this. However, I had also frozen the butter. Not a problem, not for anyone with a cutting board and some counter space and a rather sharp knife...I figure one out of three ain't bad.
So sans cutting board and counter space Captain Genius here thought it would be perfectly okay to attempt cutting the frozen rock hard butter while cradled in the palm of my hand (I realize now of course that I'm a blazing idiot). So I attempted this while talking to my roommates. Things were going well at first, the knife had finally moved a centimeter into the butter when suddenly it slipped!!!! I would have never thought it possible but yes folks, the knife slipped from the butter and grazed my hand. I said a few choice "ows" and then checked out the damage on my hand, a little messed up looking, but no blood no foul right? I think I did grab a plate at this point though and cut the rest of the butter. It wasn't until later that I looked down at my hand, thought something was on it so went to pick it off and realized it was my skin. Still didn't bleed though, good thing, but stung like no other (still does with warm water).

Okay, the accident train is leaving the station now. Sorry if this was a long one.