To the person I ran across in Statcounter that searched "how many Goody's powders are you supposed to take?" I have an answer, though you may not like it.
Answer: Read the box jackass!
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Monday, January 08, 2007
going nowhere
Today was going to be the day. Fresh back from Atlanta, my Christmas celebrations all over for another year, I was going to get all kinds of resolute and do some serious making myself a better and more productive person.
I didn't touch my Bloglines the whole time we were out of town. I did check my email a couple of times and even checked Myspace a couple of times. Today has so far been clicking through all the feeds, catching up on my internet homies, feeding the boys and now posting to ye ol' blog.
I'm going to pretend I have something to write for a few minutes while bumping around the back of my head are thoughts of the tasks I need to complete for the day. These include finishing washing and folding and putting away some laundry, emptying and refilling the dishwasher and most important of all, having supper cooked in time for Momma to rush in from work and eat just in time for us to rush a little south for derby practice.
The dishes and supper part will definitely happen as the whole day will suck if we don't have supper in us in time. Momma doesn't always get a chance to eat well at work, and she really needs some fuel in her belly before hustling round the rink, so not finishing that task isn't an option. Besides, I'm making a stir fry, and if there's any easier cooking than that then I haven't found it. Meals in a box don't count as I don't consider meals geared toward expediency over quality to be real cooking. I'm not against expediency, and there are certainly times for that, but Momma and the whole fuel thing are more important than speed of preparation.
I have some sort of post about the family rumbling around with those other thoughts, but it's all about angles, and I don't know that I've found one I like. The best angle would be one that makes for interesting reading while giving me a view that helps me think through whatever it is I'm thinking through. For all the ways we are different, I really love my family. And though most of them will likely never read what I write here, they still deserve some modicum of respect.
The boys are eating lunch and watching cartoons. I need to get them to do some cleaning, but that isn't a fight I really feel like having right now. They hate cleaning as much as anyone, and no amount of threating to put their toys up for a while seems to work, though if I actually start the cleaning, they tend to realize that I really will take toys away and will start, with moaning and bitching, to do the work themselves. Again, though, it's not a fight I'm really into today.
So that may or may not be my day. We are getting something a lot like snow falling from the sky, but it's melting on the ground and just making for wet misery. I'm fine with it melting because I hate snow. It may be fun for some, but for me it's just cold, wet hell that happens to be pretty in a sense.
I finally feel that I've rambled enough for now. There will likely be some other mindless commentary later in the day, but for now I'm going to check my newest feeds, read about some homeschoolers and wander around the house looking at the chores I'm not doing. The kitchen stuff will get put off till 4:00 when NPR can keep me company while I hack my way through a pile of vegetables and pork, steam some rice and dump soy sauce over it all in the hopes that what is mostly healthy will be slightly tasty. So until then . . .
I didn't touch my Bloglines the whole time we were out of town. I did check my email a couple of times and even checked Myspace a couple of times. Today has so far been clicking through all the feeds, catching up on my internet homies, feeding the boys and now posting to ye ol' blog.
I'm going to pretend I have something to write for a few minutes while bumping around the back of my head are thoughts of the tasks I need to complete for the day. These include finishing washing and folding and putting away some laundry, emptying and refilling the dishwasher and most important of all, having supper cooked in time for Momma to rush in from work and eat just in time for us to rush a little south for derby practice.
The dishes and supper part will definitely happen as the whole day will suck if we don't have supper in us in time. Momma doesn't always get a chance to eat well at work, and she really needs some fuel in her belly before hustling round the rink, so not finishing that task isn't an option. Besides, I'm making a stir fry, and if there's any easier cooking than that then I haven't found it. Meals in a box don't count as I don't consider meals geared toward expediency over quality to be real cooking. I'm not against expediency, and there are certainly times for that, but Momma and the whole fuel thing are more important than speed of preparation.
I have some sort of post about the family rumbling around with those other thoughts, but it's all about angles, and I don't know that I've found one I like. The best angle would be one that makes for interesting reading while giving me a view that helps me think through whatever it is I'm thinking through. For all the ways we are different, I really love my family. And though most of them will likely never read what I write here, they still deserve some modicum of respect.
The boys are eating lunch and watching cartoons. I need to get them to do some cleaning, but that isn't a fight I really feel like having right now. They hate cleaning as much as anyone, and no amount of threating to put their toys up for a while seems to work, though if I actually start the cleaning, they tend to realize that I really will take toys away and will start, with moaning and bitching, to do the work themselves. Again, though, it's not a fight I'm really into today.
So that may or may not be my day. We are getting something a lot like snow falling from the sky, but it's melting on the ground and just making for wet misery. I'm fine with it melting because I hate snow. It may be fun for some, but for me it's just cold, wet hell that happens to be pretty in a sense.
I finally feel that I've rambled enough for now. There will likely be some other mindless commentary later in the day, but for now I'm going to check my newest feeds, read about some homeschoolers and wander around the house looking at the chores I'm not doing. The kitchen stuff will get put off till 4:00 when NPR can keep me company while I hack my way through a pile of vegetables and pork, steam some rice and dump soy sauce over it all in the hopes that what is mostly healthy will be slightly tasty. So until then . . .
back for more
I had a lovely weekend in Atlanta. Thanks for asking.
Now that I'm back, I'm going to start with, did you guess rant?
I didn't notice this myself. Momma has a lap full of receipts from our trip. She's going through and separating the credit card purchases from those made with real money and the debit card. We ate better than we should have and likely tipped better than tray-in-the-face-girl deserved. She was kinda cute though in a nerdy-glasses-girl kind of way, though she's certainly no Momma.
Perhaps you are familiar with Walgreens, popular drug/convenience store. I am of course as I often drive past them, though I don't generally need their services. I buy my smokes at the grocery store while buying my regular groceries. There's a special feeling I get (used to get) when I purchase diapers, beer and cigarettes, but that's not the point. I needed cigarettes, and they were convenient.
At the top of the receipt from Walgreens is the following statement: Hello, my name is "cashier/worker drone's name." Thank you for allowing me to serve you today.
First, I'll give you Momma's answer which is, "How demeaning."
I have to agree. That's one of those problems-with-America kinds of things. I didn't allow worker drone to serve me. She was there, and I needed a pack of smokes. Her job is not to serve me or even to be allowed to serve me. Her job is to sell me products that I would like to purchase. I didn't let her do her job. She needs income and helping Walgreens sell products is how she earns that income. I'm happier when they're polite about, but in the end, as long as I get the smokes and get the fuck out, I really don't give two inches worth of shit.
How demeaning indeed, as if her life begins and ends with the customer. Fuck that!
Now that I'm back, I'm going to start with, did you guess rant?
I didn't notice this myself. Momma has a lap full of receipts from our trip. She's going through and separating the credit card purchases from those made with real money and the debit card. We ate better than we should have and likely tipped better than tray-in-the-face-girl deserved. She was kinda cute though in a nerdy-glasses-girl kind of way, though she's certainly no Momma.
Perhaps you are familiar with Walgreens, popular drug/convenience store. I am of course as I often drive past them, though I don't generally need their services. I buy my smokes at the grocery store while buying my regular groceries. There's a special feeling I get (used to get) when I purchase diapers, beer and cigarettes, but that's not the point. I needed cigarettes, and they were convenient.
At the top of the receipt from Walgreens is the following statement: Hello, my name is "cashier/worker drone's name." Thank you for allowing me to serve you today.
First, I'll give you Momma's answer which is, "How demeaning."
I have to agree. That's one of those problems-with-America kinds of things. I didn't allow worker drone to serve me. She was there, and I needed a pack of smokes. Her job is not to serve me or even to be allowed to serve me. Her job is to sell me products that I would like to purchase. I didn't let her do her job. She needs income and helping Walgreens sell products is how she earns that income. I'm happier when they're polite about, but in the end, as long as I get the smokes and get the fuck out, I really don't give two inches worth of shit.
How demeaning indeed, as if her life begins and ends with the customer. Fuck that!
Friday, January 05, 2007
gone baby gone
We are off! Actually, we are almost ready to set off. We are driving a little south to spend the weekend with my family and celebrate a slightly later than most Christmas. The car is nearly packed, the boy's are dressed and even have shoes on. We have a few errands to run, and then it's I-75 southbound.
I'm not likely to post anything for a couple of days or so, though I will try at least to check my email. What good that does anyone who happens to read this I don't know, nor do I much care, 'cause I'm an ass like that.
Be good, and remember that Jesus loves you in those tight pants.
I'm not likely to post anything for a couple of days or so, though I will try at least to check my email. What good that does anyone who happens to read this I don't know, nor do I much care, 'cause I'm an ass like that.
Be good, and remember that Jesus loves you in those tight pants.
required reading blog
This is a post I've meant to write for sometime. I forget how I first came across Zeyad and his blog Healing Iraq, but I immediately stuck him in my Bloglines. I was interested in hearing from an actual honest to god Iraqi because I know that the news we get in the US, regardless of the source, is going to be somewhat skewed. Even when we get news that doesn't have a bias toward a political party, I have to assume that we in the US still aren't getting a real picture of what life in Iraq is really like right now.
His stories don't all involve the hell that certain areas are seeing, though one can easily find those stories in some of his links. More than anything, and most importantly for me, it's a window into a world that so many of us will never see, but decisions supposedly made on our behalf and by our president are having a profound and often horrible impact on many people.
Every time I read a new post I think that I really need to try to share this guy's blog. It's not like I get many hits or can share this with a noticeable audience, but all things considered, it can't hurt for more of us in the US to know the truth.
It's definitely worth clicking over. Give yourself the time to peruse the site, though I'd warn against getting into the comments. Too often they are the same few people arguing back and forth, each one convinced that his or her narrow view of the situation is the only right one. I suppose the comment section may be a good example of the kind of problems that are festering in Iraq but with electrons instead of guns.
His stories don't all involve the hell that certain areas are seeing, though one can easily find those stories in some of his links. More than anything, and most importantly for me, it's a window into a world that so many of us will never see, but decisions supposedly made on our behalf and by our president are having a profound and often horrible impact on many people.
Every time I read a new post I think that I really need to try to share this guy's blog. It's not like I get many hits or can share this with a noticeable audience, but all things considered, it can't hurt for more of us in the US to know the truth.
It's definitely worth clicking over. Give yourself the time to peruse the site, though I'd warn against getting into the comments. Too often they are the same few people arguing back and forth, each one convinced that his or her narrow view of the situation is the only right one. I suppose the comment section may be a good example of the kind of problems that are festering in Iraq but with electrons instead of guns.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
simply put derby basics
In a comment on my most recent post, Gem asks what the point of roller derby is. In a sense it's a race between the teams fastest girls while the rest of the team runs interference. That's a very simplistic description that doesn't do justice to the game, but it's a quick and pithy way to put it.
A roller derby match is made up of three twenty minute periods. The periods are separated into jams which can be up to two minutes long. The number of jams in a period depends entirely on the teams involved and on how each individual jam plays out.
Each team has five players on the track for each jam assuming that none of the players are in the penalty area. Those five players include a pivot, three blockers and a jammer. The pivot can also be thought of as the lead blocker while the jammer is the person that scores the points for the team. The pivot is the skater with the stripe on her helmet while the jammer is the skater with the star.
At the start of the jam the blockers are in a pack, pivots in front, with the jammers some distance behind. The jam begins at the ref's whistle at which point the pack begins moving. When the rear most blockers reach the point where the pivots began, the ref blows a double blast on the whistle which is the signal for the jammers to begin.
The blockers must stay in a pack and will move at a moderate speed around the track. The jammers must skate through the pack and then lap the pack before scoring begins. On her second and subsequent trips through the pack, the jammer scores points for each opposing blocker that she passes legally, and by legally, she must remain in bounds and not perform any illegal blocks. The blockers' job is to impede the progress of the jammer and knock her silly if possible.
On the first pass through the pack, the first jammer to legally make it through the pack becomes the lead jammer. She may call off the jam at any time after she begins scoring which just means that the jams ends and no more points can be scored by either team until the next jam. If neither jammer becomes the lead jammer, the jam will last a full two minutes. The lead jammer may elect to skate the full two minutes or may call off the jam by placing her hands on her hips.
The game may look like nothing more than a bunch of crazy bitches with a grudge and a death wish. Even after I understood the rules I was unable to make sense of the jams for some time. Over time, as I've watched and grown more in love with the sport, I've finally come to a point where it makes sense mostly. I still have a hell of a time trying to score jams. Many people do, and for this reason, there are jam refs. They are on the inside of the track and skate alongside the jammer, pointing at the jammer they are watching and keeping track of points accumulated by their jammer. If there is a lead jammer, her ref will hold his or her non pointing hand in the air to indicate lead jammer status. There are other refs who watch the packs and jammers looking for rule infractions.
There are indeed rules, though many people may assume there are not. The rules pertain in large part to blocking techniques and tend to try to put a modicum of safety on an inherently dangerous sport. I would wager that my brief synopsis is enough for most people. However I will give a couple of links to help out any prospective roller derby fans or hopeful skaters. If you want a more in depth version of the rules, look HERE. If you want to get involved in derby you can either check online for a local league or look HERE and scroll down for a listing.
A roller derby match is made up of three twenty minute periods. The periods are separated into jams which can be up to two minutes long. The number of jams in a period depends entirely on the teams involved and on how each individual jam plays out.
Each team has five players on the track for each jam assuming that none of the players are in the penalty area. Those five players include a pivot, three blockers and a jammer. The pivot can also be thought of as the lead blocker while the jammer is the person that scores the points for the team. The pivot is the skater with the stripe on her helmet while the jammer is the skater with the star.
At the start of the jam the blockers are in a pack, pivots in front, with the jammers some distance behind. The jam begins at the ref's whistle at which point the pack begins moving. When the rear most blockers reach the point where the pivots began, the ref blows a double blast on the whistle which is the signal for the jammers to begin.
The blockers must stay in a pack and will move at a moderate speed around the track. The jammers must skate through the pack and then lap the pack before scoring begins. On her second and subsequent trips through the pack, the jammer scores points for each opposing blocker that she passes legally, and by legally, she must remain in bounds and not perform any illegal blocks. The blockers' job is to impede the progress of the jammer and knock her silly if possible.
On the first pass through the pack, the first jammer to legally make it through the pack becomes the lead jammer. She may call off the jam at any time after she begins scoring which just means that the jams ends and no more points can be scored by either team until the next jam. If neither jammer becomes the lead jammer, the jam will last a full two minutes. The lead jammer may elect to skate the full two minutes or may call off the jam by placing her hands on her hips.
The game may look like nothing more than a bunch of crazy bitches with a grudge and a death wish. Even after I understood the rules I was unable to make sense of the jams for some time. Over time, as I've watched and grown more in love with the sport, I've finally come to a point where it makes sense mostly. I still have a hell of a time trying to score jams. Many people do, and for this reason, there are jam refs. They are on the inside of the track and skate alongside the jammer, pointing at the jammer they are watching and keeping track of points accumulated by their jammer. If there is a lead jammer, her ref will hold his or her non pointing hand in the air to indicate lead jammer status. There are other refs who watch the packs and jammers looking for rule infractions.
There are indeed rules, though many people may assume there are not. The rules pertain in large part to blocking techniques and tend to try to put a modicum of safety on an inherently dangerous sport. I would wager that my brief synopsis is enough for most people. However I will give a couple of links to help out any prospective roller derby fans or hopeful skaters. If you want a more in depth version of the rules, look HERE. If you want to get involved in derby you can either check online for a local league or look HERE and scroll down for a listing.
roller derby video excitement
This is a video put together by Rollergirl extraordinaire Beverly Killbilly who is also one of Momma's teammates. It's a quick look at the first inter league bout of the Hard Knox Rollergirls featuring Momma's team, the Machine Gun Kellys versus the Black Bettys. Sadly, the Bettys took the win, and I'd love to say they didn't deserve it, but I can't honestly do that. I can say with total honesty that I'm proud of every single girl regardless of the team.
According to Momma, Killbilly has more video that the is working on, and I really look forward to seeing what else she puts together.
We are currently in the middle of a break from derby which both Momma and I had once looked forward to. However, the lack of exercise has started to tell on her in her knees. I believe she is itching to get back to practice and bouting as well as just the exercise. I didn't realize till watching this video how much I was missing the action. I think that as soon as I post this I'm going to go back and watch it again.
Momma's team is in black and purple. The Bettys are in red. I'd tell you to find Momma by looking for the hot girl, but they're all hot. So look for the hot girl with the skull face.
According to Momma, Killbilly has more video that the is working on, and I really look forward to seeing what else she puts together.
We are currently in the middle of a break from derby which both Momma and I had once looked forward to. However, the lack of exercise has started to tell on her in her knees. I believe she is itching to get back to practice and bouting as well as just the exercise. I didn't realize till watching this video how much I was missing the action. I think that as soon as I post this I'm going to go back and watch it again.
Momma's team is in black and purple. The Bettys are in red. I'd tell you to find Momma by looking for the hot girl, but they're all hot. So look for the hot girl with the skull face.
squeeze it out
Instead of doing any of the housework or trip prep I should be doing, I'm sitting here squeezing out a post about how I'm not doing those things. Momma even left me a list of things to do, and I have done one of those things.
Actually, Momma's list is things she planned to do, but I felt bad for her having to do things that the one of us not employed outside the home should be doing. So I told her I'd do them. She insisted that she would do them, but that didn't happen. She intended to do those things, but something else happened instead, possibly internet related.
I have a couple of baskets worth of clothes to fold. I need to clean the bathroom which now also includes sweeping up a certain Big Brother's hair. I have several garage trips worth of recycling to carry out, though the driving to the recycling center won't be happening today. I need to decide what clothes the boys and I are taking to Atlanta for our final Christmas celebration. I'm sure there are other things on the list, but I've left it in the kitchen and am not getting up just to be slightly more accurate in the blog post that is wasting my time.
I'm almost certain I'll come up with some other random tidbits of nonsense to post about before radio silence begins for a couple of days. I won't be posting from Atlanta I'm quite certain, and I'm also certain that, given my random silences in the past no one will even notice. I'll be gone just long enough for my meager page view stats to be a little more meager.
So, this isn't quite good bye yet. Hell, it's not anything but wasting time, and that's what I'm good at.
Actually, Momma's list is things she planned to do, but I felt bad for her having to do things that the one of us not employed outside the home should be doing. So I told her I'd do them. She insisted that she would do them, but that didn't happen. She intended to do those things, but something else happened instead, possibly internet related.
I have a couple of baskets worth of clothes to fold. I need to clean the bathroom which now also includes sweeping up a certain Big Brother's hair. I have several garage trips worth of recycling to carry out, though the driving to the recycling center won't be happening today. I need to decide what clothes the boys and I are taking to Atlanta for our final Christmas celebration. I'm sure there are other things on the list, but I've left it in the kitchen and am not getting up just to be slightly more accurate in the blog post that is wasting my time.
I'm almost certain I'll come up with some other random tidbits of nonsense to post about before radio silence begins for a couple of days. I won't be posting from Atlanta I'm quite certain, and I'm also certain that, given my random silences in the past no one will even notice. I'll be gone just long enough for my meager page view stats to be a little more meager.
So, this isn't quite good bye yet. Hell, it's not anything but wasting time, and that's what I'm good at.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
two boys eating
Here are more pictures, playing with the camera and showing off my kids. Momma makes sushi for a living, so it's only natural that our boys have been eating sushi for quite a while. I personally don't care for most sushi. I don't like the seaweed at all, and I have some texture issues with most raw fish even though I can enjoy the flavor of a lot of it. I've always been a little iffy with fish/seafood, so it's no surprise that I'd be even more iffy about the sushi.
So far we haven't found any sushi that the boys will not eat. Big Brother's favorite seems to be the spider roll which is made with a fried whole soft shell crab. They were both disappointed when, after thinking they were getting oysters for New Year's Eve, they learned that the oysters hadn't come in. When asked for suggestions, Big Brother usually chooses the spider roll as well as octopus sashimi. They had those for NYE as well as eel and possibly some squid sashimi. I will eat the squid, though I need it to be cooked.
I'm not quite sure what all is on the plate in the picture. There are two different kinds of seaweed salad, possibly some of the spider roll as well as a house roll containing a fried shrimp and topped with roe. Yes, the boys both enjoy fish roe. The one time I tried roe I had to spit it out and scrape my tongue before dry heaving for a while. Big Brother's sushi glasses I'm pretty sure are a tuna maki with green onions and sesame seeds. The Boy is posing with ginger hanging out of his mouth. You can't show some kids a camera without them showing you their best side.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
not turning away
From a blog I'd not heard of before, Oh For the Love of God, via Zero Boss comes a story of one person losing their religion. I can fully agree with the blogger's points on becoming atheist/agnostic. Once I started to question the beliefs I'd been taught as a child, it was like kicking off the brakes and taking the car out of gear on a steep hill. I suppose my hill wasn't so steep at the beginning, or maybe the car just took a few years to reach a decent speed.
Christians especially like to see disbelief as a sort of moral failing. The Bible even mentions it as such and discusses people who have hardened their hearts toward god. That's rarely the case in my experience. I have no doubt that there are people who don't disbelieve but have anger toward the god they feel has wronged them.
My own atheism is probably an example similar to the growing disbelief of many people. I didn't turn away from god nor did I grow unhappy with the religious restrictions. I did start to question, and I found all too often that the answers to those questions just weren't good enough. How unsatisfying is it to hear "because I said so" as a child when we question our parents? How much more so from a religious leader in lieu of an actual answer from a caring god?
Christians especially like to see disbelief as a sort of moral failing. The Bible even mentions it as such and discusses people who have hardened their hearts toward god. That's rarely the case in my experience. I have no doubt that there are people who don't disbelieve but have anger toward the god they feel has wronged them.
My own atheism is probably an example similar to the growing disbelief of many people. I didn't turn away from god nor did I grow unhappy with the religious restrictions. I did start to question, and I found all too often that the answers to those questions just weren't good enough. How unsatisfying is it to hear "because I said so" as a child when we question our parents? How much more so from a religious leader in lieu of an actual answer from a caring god?
Monday, January 01, 2007
file under not sure
I'm not sure what to make of this story. There's enough of a conspiracy theory buff inside me to want to read all sorts of interesting possibilities into it, but given the scarcity of information, one can only assume and hope.
Are we alone on our bright blue jewel of a planet, hurtling through space never to meet other intelligent species from other planets? Do we have some first contact with an alien race to look forward to? I want to believe that we are not alone, whether or not that alien species involves sexy green women waiting to make it with a slightly pudgy overacting ship's captain.
In November of '06, several employees at O'Hare airport in Chicago spied a UFO. What they claim to have seen was a metallic disc that hovered over the airport for several minutes before taking off. They also claimed that, rather than move through the clouds as would be expected, it left a large doughnut shaped hole in the clouds.
I heard this story on NPR and had to immediately go and find what information I could. Sadly, there isn't much more to learn. I'll provide a list of links to what I did find for those inclined to read up on this instance.
Links to the story at NPR, National UFO Reporting Center (scroll down to December 12,) Washington Post, sighting report from NUFORC as well as another report concerning a similar sighting in the UK.
Part of me has absolutely no doubt that we will eventually meet our interstellar neighbors. Perhaps they won't be as exotic as Star Trek and its lesser cousin Star Wars would have us believe, but considering the varied environments that have proven able to support life, we can only imagine what those lifeforms will look like. Evolution and random planetary environments will certainly manifest themselves differently based on planetary environments, so we have only our imagination to inform us.
A more cynical part of me thinks that we just might be alone, that we will never meet and make sweet love to hot aliens chics. That part seems pretty damn closed minded to assume that the happenstance that put us here couldn't just as easily have put someone else somewhere else. So I'm left believing that there is intelligent life out there, and with our luck as humans, we've probably already pissed them off.
dear Sunspot
I used to really love you. I never intended to start the new year ranting, but last night's dinner at your once beloved restaurant, coupled with the fact that you've taken the portabella fries off the menu has left me wanting.
Do your cooks know what it means to break a cream sauce? I should have sent the overly salty, greasy mess back, but we'd already waited too long in your almost empty dining room, I felt like shit, and I was hungry. I'm not sure when I'll be back.
Seriously, it's really easy to break a cream sauce, but if you have even the tiniest bit of cooking skill, it's really easy to do it right and not break it.
For anyone unfamiliar, breaking a cream sauce happens because you've cooked it too long. The cream itself separates leaving a horrid greasy pool in the bottom of your dish. It's very unappetizing and very unprofessional. People who serve this kind of crap should be led away from the kitchen and asked kindly to go clean something as they obviously don't belong in the kitchen.
Big Brother ordered the artichoke piccata which was mostly good, but you overcooked the pasta. This we couldn't have sent back without having to order something else entirely, and again, you made us wait forever already; we just wanted to eat and leave at this point. Seriously, how the hell do you overcook pasta?
The Boy order the tilapia, served over grits with a corn heavy cream sauce studded with crawfish. It's a really great dish and was actually well cooked. Tilapia is easy to fuck up as it's a very light and tender fish, but this is the one thing you did get right.
As to my complaint about the portabella fries, the person who decided to take this off the menu is a fucking idiot and should be beaten about the head with a sock filled with onions. Thinly sliced portabella mushrooms in a light batter fried and served with a red pepper aioli. The first taste of these I had, quite a few years ago, was like an epiphany. Working at other restaurants, I have actually made these for myself, though the aioli became a red pepper ranch because I'm a little on the lazy side, and I needed to get back to work.
So, once dear Sunspot, you've really done it. Your cooks working 12/31/06 fucked up a really good meal. You weren't at all busy at the time, so you don't have that as an excuse, and even if you had been busy, to excuse your inability to cook properly suggests that you belong in another job. I've enjoyed a lot of meals at your restaurant, and I've always looked forward to it. But the grease sitting in my stomach says I might try some other restaurant next time.
Seriously, your cooks broke the cream, had to see the orange greasy crap and thought it would be okay to serve it anyway. I'm somewhat to blame for not sending it back, but as I've mentioned, we had already waited longer than we should. I also had my kids with me, and when you bring your kids, you often don't have the luxury of time to make the restaurant get it right. That shouldn't be my problem though. What kind of fucks serve this shit? I'd have been ashamed of myself if I sent out that crap, but that's not a problem I have in the kitchen. I would never have put that out.
Do your cooks know what it means to break a cream sauce? I should have sent the overly salty, greasy mess back, but we'd already waited too long in your almost empty dining room, I felt like shit, and I was hungry. I'm not sure when I'll be back.
Seriously, it's really easy to break a cream sauce, but if you have even the tiniest bit of cooking skill, it's really easy to do it right and not break it.
For anyone unfamiliar, breaking a cream sauce happens because you've cooked it too long. The cream itself separates leaving a horrid greasy pool in the bottom of your dish. It's very unappetizing and very unprofessional. People who serve this kind of crap should be led away from the kitchen and asked kindly to go clean something as they obviously don't belong in the kitchen.
Big Brother ordered the artichoke piccata which was mostly good, but you overcooked the pasta. This we couldn't have sent back without having to order something else entirely, and again, you made us wait forever already; we just wanted to eat and leave at this point. Seriously, how the hell do you overcook pasta?
The Boy order the tilapia, served over grits with a corn heavy cream sauce studded with crawfish. It's a really great dish and was actually well cooked. Tilapia is easy to fuck up as it's a very light and tender fish, but this is the one thing you did get right.
As to my complaint about the portabella fries, the person who decided to take this off the menu is a fucking idiot and should be beaten about the head with a sock filled with onions. Thinly sliced portabella mushrooms in a light batter fried and served with a red pepper aioli. The first taste of these I had, quite a few years ago, was like an epiphany. Working at other restaurants, I have actually made these for myself, though the aioli became a red pepper ranch because I'm a little on the lazy side, and I needed to get back to work.
So, once dear Sunspot, you've really done it. Your cooks working 12/31/06 fucked up a really good meal. You weren't at all busy at the time, so you don't have that as an excuse, and even if you had been busy, to excuse your inability to cook properly suggests that you belong in another job. I've enjoyed a lot of meals at your restaurant, and I've always looked forward to it. But the grease sitting in my stomach says I might try some other restaurant next time.
Seriously, your cooks broke the cream, had to see the orange greasy crap and thought it would be okay to serve it anyway. I'm somewhat to blame for not sending it back, but as I've mentioned, we had already waited longer than we should. I also had my kids with me, and when you bring your kids, you often don't have the luxury of time to make the restaurant get it right. That shouldn't be my problem though. What kind of fucks serve this shit? I'd have been ashamed of myself if I sent out that crap, but that's not a problem I have in the kitchen. I would never have put that out.
first post of '07
No one is really certain when Hank Williams died. He was placed in the back seat of a Cadillac on New Years Eve 1952, given a shot of vitamins and morphine and was one his way, driving to a show in Ohio. He never made it, his young chauffeur noticing that he had died when they stopped in West Virginia. That was around three in the morning, new year's day.
Hank had a number of problems throughout his life, and like many great artists, much of what he endured could be said to be somewhat his own fault. That morphine didn't do itself.
It's impossible to accurately judge the far reaching effects of Hank Williams' few short years. His songs, over fifty years later, still have a power that few singers and/or songwriters can claim. He's moved more people than Greyhound buses.
My first post of the new year is a video of Hank doing Cold, Cold Heart. I really wanted to find a video of his song Never Get Out Of This World Alive, his very last hit. None of us are going to make it out alive, but it has a special poignancy that Hank's last hit was followed by his leaving us. At least he finally quit hurting.
Hank had a number of problems throughout his life, and like many great artists, much of what he endured could be said to be somewhat his own fault. That morphine didn't do itself.
It's impossible to accurately judge the far reaching effects of Hank Williams' few short years. His songs, over fifty years later, still have a power that few singers and/or songwriters can claim. He's moved more people than Greyhound buses.
My first post of the new year is a video of Hank doing Cold, Cold Heart. I really wanted to find a video of his song Never Get Out Of This World Alive, his very last hit. None of us are going to make it out alive, but it has a special poignancy that Hank's last hit was followed by his leaving us. At least he finally quit hurting.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
stupid toy, but not icky this time
I do love to rant and often focus on the playthings that the corporate folk make the children want. I do love also to blame the corporate folk for all sorts of ills whether or not they are truly at fault. Having boys, there are plenty of toys that may poorly impress me that I won't ever actually have to worry about purchasing or otherwise owning. However, this one is just stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Seriously, a baby horse learning to walk upright? Is that what's going on here? Seriously? Stupid!!!
more celebratin'
As usual, for the last day of the year, it's pretty damned anticlimactic. I don't expect much, but you'd think such an auspicious day would . . . I don't know . . . something.
Instead, we get rain where I live. It's gone back and forth from nearly invisible sprinkles to a fairly heavy downpour. I don't expect much more than that from the looks of the outside, unending stretch of gray sky spotted with darker gray clouds scudding past.
My cough has turned into a cough plus the drippiest of noses. I'm enjoying some lovely body aches to go with the above. It's not an overall body ache from tip to toes, so I should be happy about that. And it's easily taken care of with a mouth full of Goody's powder.
As an aside, I'd like to mention, when taking the Goody's, it's best to keep in on your tongue until washing it down. Under no circumstances should you let the powder get off of the tongue. I really don't enjoy the flavor of it, especially when it ends up coating my mouth making me gag and cough violently, thankfully making it to the sink as opposed to blowing it all over Momma. She may not know how close she came to a face full of Goody's powder.
Momma has to work for a bit, and I and the boys need to get to the store. One more episode of Naruto and I'm getting up and out. We've got our bottles for the night, sparkling wine and tequila, so we just need a little beer to round all that out. We also need cereal and graham crackers and coffee, so it isn't solely a beer run.
So that's our story. I may dip into the tequila early as an antidote to the feelings of blech bubbling up out of me. I might wait till we get back from the store so that I can enjoy a beer along with the shot.
Instead, we get rain where I live. It's gone back and forth from nearly invisible sprinkles to a fairly heavy downpour. I don't expect much more than that from the looks of the outside, unending stretch of gray sky spotted with darker gray clouds scudding past.
My cough has turned into a cough plus the drippiest of noses. I'm enjoying some lovely body aches to go with the above. It's not an overall body ache from tip to toes, so I should be happy about that. And it's easily taken care of with a mouth full of Goody's powder.
As an aside, I'd like to mention, when taking the Goody's, it's best to keep in on your tongue until washing it down. Under no circumstances should you let the powder get off of the tongue. I really don't enjoy the flavor of it, especially when it ends up coating my mouth making me gag and cough violently, thankfully making it to the sink as opposed to blowing it all over Momma. She may not know how close she came to a face full of Goody's powder.
Momma has to work for a bit, and I and the boys need to get to the store. One more episode of Naruto and I'm getting up and out. We've got our bottles for the night, sparkling wine and tequila, so we just need a little beer to round all that out. We also need cereal and graham crackers and coffee, so it isn't solely a beer run.
So that's our story. I may dip into the tequila early as an antidote to the feelings of blech bubbling up out of me. I might wait till we get back from the store so that I can enjoy a beer along with the shot.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
sickness
This totally sucks. The boys' sickness seems to be waning. Momma seems like she's done being sick. I thought I was done, but guess who woke feeling like shit two days ago? Guess who can't stop coughing again? Guess who at least has smoked a minimum of cigarettes but still can't manage to quit even as he uses a stick to shove his lungs back down where they go?
The Goodys powder seems to have taken care of the achiness. A much needed shower would probably push me even closer to feeling less like shit. Sadly, both my pairs of jeans are/were dirty. I'm wearing one pair while the other is currently in the dryer. It wasn't going to be laundry day, but I really need a clean pair of jeans for when I get around to that shower, and rather than wash the one load, I may as well make a day of it.
I'm actually tempted to take a bath. I'd love to have the house to myself, to roll up a bit of smokable treat, to pour myself a beer and to sink down into the water. I keep waking with aching the last couple of days, and a nice warm soak sounds deliriously nice.
Here's the problem with the warm soak, dry skin. As soon as our weather starts to turn cold I know that my steaming hot showers are at an end till spring. I do love a nice hot shower, but it will dry my scrawny ass unbearably. Even a tepidish shower will leave my face feeling a little tight afterward, but at least I'm not scratching my belly for the next two days. I'm sure the bath would just leech out even more of my natural skin softening agents.
I feel like crap. I smell like a hippy. Momma had to work today though she wasn't supposed to. I'm afraid to take a shower because I don't trust a certain pair of boys not to go crazy when they know I can't see them. Woe are I, boo hoo.
The Goodys powder seems to have taken care of the achiness. A much needed shower would probably push me even closer to feeling less like shit. Sadly, both my pairs of jeans are/were dirty. I'm wearing one pair while the other is currently in the dryer. It wasn't going to be laundry day, but I really need a clean pair of jeans for when I get around to that shower, and rather than wash the one load, I may as well make a day of it.
I'm actually tempted to take a bath. I'd love to have the house to myself, to roll up a bit of smokable treat, to pour myself a beer and to sink down into the water. I keep waking with aching the last couple of days, and a nice warm soak sounds deliriously nice.
Here's the problem with the warm soak, dry skin. As soon as our weather starts to turn cold I know that my steaming hot showers are at an end till spring. I do love a nice hot shower, but it will dry my scrawny ass unbearably. Even a tepidish shower will leave my face feeling a little tight afterward, but at least I'm not scratching my belly for the next two days. I'm sure the bath would just leech out even more of my natural skin softening agents.
I feel like crap. I smell like a hippy. Momma had to work today though she wasn't supposed to. I'm afraid to take a shower because I don't trust a certain pair of boys not to go crazy when they know I can't see them. Woe are I, boo hoo.
the smoothest
This is another one of those video posts. I tend to think of these guys as ska, but of the early Jamaican music scene, it's the ska that most gets to me. The early reggae bands, Toots for example, were really cool, but then the hippies fucked it all up.
We are lucky enough in our town to have a really hard working ska fan that puts together a huge show every year. He's done it several years in a row now, and every year it gets bigger. Little did I know this past year, late in the summer when it happened, that this band was the standout. They weren't even on the regular bill but played a local bar for the after party.
I was impressed enough to pick up their cd, but it's lately that I've really listened to it. It's one of those albums that just didn't equal their live performance, and when you get turned onto a band live, the cd can be hit or miss no matter how good it really is. Basically, I listen to it slightly more each week, and it's really gotten to me.
Anyway, the band is Debonaires. Click on the name for their Myspace page and more songs after the video makes you crave their lovely style.
We are lucky enough in our town to have a really hard working ska fan that puts together a huge show every year. He's done it several years in a row now, and every year it gets bigger. Little did I know this past year, late in the summer when it happened, that this band was the standout. They weren't even on the regular bill but played a local bar for the after party.
I was impressed enough to pick up their cd, but it's lately that I've really listened to it. It's one of those albums that just didn't equal their live performance, and when you get turned onto a band live, the cd can be hit or miss no matter how good it really is. Basically, I listen to it slightly more each week, and it's really gotten to me.
Anyway, the band is Debonaires. Click on the name for their Myspace page and more songs after the video makes you crave their lovely style.
Friday, December 29, 2006
nasty toys with nasty mouths
We are all familiar with the Bratz dolls. This toy makes me happy that I have boys and that neither seems the least interested in typically girl toys.Apparently, many parents have decided that one of the toys in the Bratz line sings the fuck word in a song. I really don't know much about the toy. I'm no prude, but the picture really says a lot I think. Would you be surprised if this doll said the fuck word?
Parents, as they tend to do when their precious babies come close to a swear, or a anything they don't like, are freaking out. What I don't get is, if you buy the whore toys, how upset can you get with the word fuck? Did these parents not look at the toy to begin with? "Ooh, look, Honey, a toy that looks like its trying to get fucked. I hope it doesn't actually say fuck."
Hat Tip to the local news monkey at Knox Views on this one.
ginger ale house
I've been wanting to post this for almost a week, but Blogger kept thinking they should not let me. I tried several times to post different pictures, but nothing would work. I was afraid maybe they just hated our gingerbread house, but I suppose maybe I pissed them off personally. Either way, it now works.
The Boy keeps calling it the ginger ale house, and that's really too funny to correct, so I've been referring to it as such as well.
A friend of ours, a couple of years ago, gave us the kit, basically a mold in which to bake the different parts. Momma built the house, gave the boys a pastry bag of royal icing and the accumulated holiday candy from the last year. No one supervised or bothered them while they worked and ate candy, so no one knows quite how much candy went into the boys.
If you look in front of the door of the house you will see a green and white chewy star light mint. It may look as if someone has taken a bite. Someone did. Now it looks melted and a little gruesome. The house still stands though minus a few parts here and there. I'm reluctant to eat any of it myself, and at some point, general safety concerns will force the ginger ale house into oblivion.
Finally, looking at the roof, I'm not sure if the gummi worm is going into or coming out of the chimney. The milk duds on the chimney are smoke, and I worry about the residents and what they may be burning to produce that dark brown smoke.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
two days later
Two days have now passed since the gift extravaganza toy blowout, yet I'm still surrounded by the detritus of the frenzy. Okay, that's a big part my fault. Christmas day itself is meant for only the least cleaning.
The first day after was dedicated to relaxation. Both boys flirted with being sick throughout the day, and Momma was back at work. The toys I left out because the boys didn't clean them up, and I wasn't about to. I did however get the praline mess cleaned up, lifting the top of the stove up to scraped and scrub beneath the burners even.
Today was my own lazy day. I did wash dishes and got both boys clean. I also snuck into the playroom while The Boy was in the bath and boxed up a bunch of toys that I haven't seen played with in a while. I'd love to get rid of more stuff, but I'm not entirely hearless. Most of what went in the box was toys from fast food kid's meals. I also picked up some new toys and took them into the playroom, though we have plenty of cleaning and putting away to do still.
We have been sick, in general, for about a month it seems. We passed around a cold that never seemed to completely go away. Then Momma got some sort of stomach thing that had her puking all day. Both boys seemed to have gotten that to some degree, though all the stomach thing seems to have left us alone. Big Brother has taken up coughing again. It's gotten to a sort of worrisome stage, though it seemed less today. He does seem to have gotten the worst of the sick.
Tomorrow needs to start much too early, but knowing how early I have to be up to take Momma to work if I want the car makes another day being housebound sound not so bad. I can think of any number of projects that need to be accomplished if we didn't get out, but I also know how I can procrastinate like it was cool.
I also still have Christmas shopping to do. I have yet to see my own family, and there is less than two weeks till we travel a few hours south to have Atlanta Christmas. I suppose I need to do some shopping soon.
Okay, that was easily the craptasticest post I've ever written. I'm sure I've written one or two that were suckier content wise, but I doubt I've been this boring quite yet. I could be wrong.
The first day after was dedicated to relaxation. Both boys flirted with being sick throughout the day, and Momma was back at work. The toys I left out because the boys didn't clean them up, and I wasn't about to. I did however get the praline mess cleaned up, lifting the top of the stove up to scraped and scrub beneath the burners even.
Today was my own lazy day. I did wash dishes and got both boys clean. I also snuck into the playroom while The Boy was in the bath and boxed up a bunch of toys that I haven't seen played with in a while. I'd love to get rid of more stuff, but I'm not entirely hearless. Most of what went in the box was toys from fast food kid's meals. I also picked up some new toys and took them into the playroom, though we have plenty of cleaning and putting away to do still.
We have been sick, in general, for about a month it seems. We passed around a cold that never seemed to completely go away. Then Momma got some sort of stomach thing that had her puking all day. Both boys seemed to have gotten that to some degree, though all the stomach thing seems to have left us alone. Big Brother has taken up coughing again. It's gotten to a sort of worrisome stage, though it seemed less today. He does seem to have gotten the worst of the sick.
Tomorrow needs to start much too early, but knowing how early I have to be up to take Momma to work if I want the car makes another day being housebound sound not so bad. I can think of any number of projects that need to be accomplished if we didn't get out, but I also know how I can procrastinate like it was cool.
I also still have Christmas shopping to do. I have yet to see my own family, and there is less than two weeks till we travel a few hours south to have Atlanta Christmas. I suppose I need to do some shopping soon.
Okay, that was easily the craptasticest post I've ever written. I'm sure I've written one or two that were suckier content wise, but I doubt I've been this boring quite yet. I could be wrong.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)