Funny enough, we've lived in it's general vicinity for about 5 years now, and have NEVER gone! So, today, we went. There were the usual fair food vendors...most of whom simply added "Garlic" to their standard fares. For instance, Shellma chose "garlic knots", while I opted for "garlic clams", and both of us enjoyed a nice "Garlic beef on a stick". Which was actually pretty damn gross!
And the tasting!?!?! Oh, the TASTING! Booth after booth of garlic jelly, jalapeno jam, and every conceivable party dip known to man! I am packed to the gills with pretzels and stale tortilla chips!
Still, a pretty nice way to spend an afternoon, with my best foodie friend, and the food I love the most! All the while the "men" stayed home reveling in the Sunday Afternoon Football hoopla! So, I'm betting, we are probably all are at the same level of "stank"! HA!
Someone...somewhere...also in my building...is listening to organ music and full blast. Rock out!
I've got no car for the day....gave it to my little brother until his is fixed....and of course today I want to do all this stuff like....take back recyclables for $$$! And buy pot roast!
Just looked down and realized my left palm is covered in blood. Somehow sliced it while doing dishes. This just further reaffirms my fear of cleaning!
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!
I've become obsessed with NOT washing my hair. All the dieing and avoiding haircuts over the years, I thought it was damaged beyond repair, but in the last few weeks simply realized that perhaps even every other day washings were taking their tolls. Haven't washed* it since Saturday and it feel FABULOUS! Only took 28 years to figure out!
Been walking daily and doing sit-ups ad nauseam to fight off the slovenliness that was our summer of early retirement. Back to yogurt and salads in an effort to avoid "the fast".
Hey! Anybody want spider plant babies? I'm rooting a whole bunch and hoping to give them away as presents...perhaps for Christmas. So if you want in...speak up!
*I DO wet it and condition...every other day...but no shampoo. The Man taught me the trick. Funny!
Is it too early for beer? I'm watching a quintessential girly film (don't judge me!) while doing my monthly billing of clients. I've only been awake for 3 hours, and it's a gorgeous day! Therefore, I think it's time for me to enjoy a Heineken....responsibly...of course!
(OH MY GOD!!!! WHY is Alicia Keyes in this movie?!?!?)
This is what I found today when I finally went online to cancel that "oh so once long ago created online dating profile". Haven't used it in years, and yet, whoever Joe1261 is thought from the info I'd written 5 years ago that the above lines would reel me in!
And that was just the beginning!
Remember the Friends episode where Chandler and Ross try and quit the gym? THAT is JUST how hard it is to get any trace of your presence removed from these damn websites! Its a labyrinth of multiple choice/choose your own adventure type questions that take you further and further in until you can't remember why you're there...or if you even still HAVE a significant other! RIDICULOUS!!!!!
EGADS! I've still got one more floating around out there to extinguish!
Oh, the mistakes of youth....
And OH MY GOD! Forget all the b.s going down on Wall Street! The real tragedy is happening right in Times Square. As of November, TRL will be no more?!?! How can they do this? Where oh where shall I go from here to learn the newest method for hootin' and hollerin' at young tarlets? I'm going to go weep now.
I went back through the old posts from the old site...and even now, even 2.5 years later...this still makes sense...
Maybe it’s the thrill of the hang over that keeps me coming back to this bottle. After all, now that I’ve grown past the era of vomiting and headaches, what better excuse is there to remain curled in bed until the afternoon sun hits the window? Seems it’s been my favorite way to spend a Sunday.
Waking up, on the opposite side of the bed, his dead arm thrown across my shoulders, pj’s askew after hastily being applied. There’s the first glimpse of sun, where the head is still clear; that is until the foreign situation is realized and how late the night ran, and the whirlwind state that we entered the house all comes rushing back and suddenly you realize that the only thing on the earth needed right now is a huge glass of water!
I throw myself out of bed and into the bathroom where every orifice is dry as a bone and the sight of my hair flattened to my head is enough to know that a shower is the only thing that will bring my pale complexion back to life. Then there’s the hunt for the Brita that was, of course, left empty on the counter after being drained a few hours earlier in a hope to ward off this dry bone feeling pervading my head. Searching the empty fridge for some sort of liquid while the filter slowly works it’s magic on the sulfur infused river water. Finally, siphoning enough to fill the large protein shake glass that is quickly halved and passed on to the bleary eyed man emerging from his coma hours earlier than he’d like.
This was our ritual. Our destructive cycle we followed when the weeks got too long. He was the first man who could hold his own standing next to me at a college bar with $3 bottles. We never saw anything wrong with how we played with our chemical makeup, poisoning ourselves as repayment for jobs done hard.
Surveying the morning-after damage of pants thrown on chairs, cell phones tossed on counters and spilled purses and pockets, signs of frantic searches for chap stick pots to fight off the dryness of wind blown lips from standing in frigid temperatures while one scampered off in search of new or old friends. One last goodbye always led to a new hello to someone entering the scene just when we should have been leaving. Good night is not a word we learn easily.
Then the phone calls, returning on the scattered promises to meet for breakfast, squished into tiny tables in a crowded bistro, rehashing the previous night’s events over omelets, potatoes, and hollandaise.
This has been how my life has run for 5 years now. The college towns change, the partners switch off, but it all smells like the same stale cigarette smoke and light beer of the last era. Yet the intrigue never dies. Perhaps it is an addiction to the aftermath. A forced comradeship formed clinging to each other while the crowd presses in, anxious to take our spots, claimed before the cover charge is implemented and the younger sect takes off into full party flight. It was these nights that have always made me feel loved, have always made me feel close, part of a group. And perhaps it’s the afterglow of a night spent under dim lights and surrounded by pulsing noise that’s the addiction. That feeling that a night was not wasted because it’s brought memories to share in the morning.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen...that is THE tomato! The one that grew and grew and refused to turn from green. Well, it seemed overnight it went from hard and unripe to bright yellow and begging to be cooked up into something wonderful! (As one might notice, it is a bit over half the size of The Man's head!)
And so, we obliged. For the first time I scored and blanched and skinned and squeezed and pureed and simmered and created my very first pot of gen-u-ine sauce that started as a small seedling found at a farmer's market...to becoming one of the best pans of eggplant Parmesan this German gal's ever tasted! Not to mention the subsequent pizzas and pasta dishes that were to follow the next few days.
Oh yes, a girl could get used to this domestic sorta lifestyle...I think I'm gonna go make Banana bread! (disclaimer...no bananas we actually grown by aforementioned blogger)
And now, with the man back to work, I'm left alone to spend my days surfing the mindless entertainment blogs and to compulsively check my friends status reports on face book. All FASCINATING, mind you...but I'm starting to feel like there's just got to be MORE! So...here it goes.
This will probably turn into a rambling, musing, photosharing, cooking space. But for now...I'm just gonna fuck with the html!