I love a happy hour. I prefer happy hours to late night on the town. Sometimes. More often than not, mind you.
Two main reasons:
1. The drinks are cheaper. I'm a drink girl not a beer girl. My tabs usually end up being $8 a drink during the late night.
At happy hours it usually cut in half.
2. Working men. Word. I don't know about you but I usually find more men with professional careers and college degrees hit the happy hour scene. In groups.
That's why I love happy hours. Last night I didn't love it so much.
The football game was playing backwards. I was on a patio and the bar projected the game onto a big blank wall. The person in charge of setting it up, set it up backwards and then disappeared.
The game was projected as though, we were looking at it from behind a mirror.
Annoying. All the men were grumbling complaints. I stopped our waitress and told her of the situation. She was surprised and laughed and said she'd take care of it.
Never did.
It was mind numbing I can tell you that, like some POW torture. Thank goodness I was not there to watch a game.
But this did put the working men in disgruntled moods. Dang it.
Happy hours are casual affairs. Peeps show up in what they usually wore to work that day, jackets off, ties loosened, top buttons unbuttoned. Some go home and change into jeans and show up.
Never, ever have I seen anyone show up to a happy hour in their 1968 prom dress.
Until last night.
This woman came onto the scene in her best dress. She redefined 'little black dress'. Lets just say nothing about her was little. Nothing except the dress. And it was polyester. Shiny. Rouched in all the wrong spots. Low cut.
My eyes were already in trauma over the projected game.
And she looked to be older than my mother. Even my mom knows not to wear bright blue eyeshadow and fire engine red lipstick. (besides those colors don't really work on Black people)
This woman was here and she brought her "A" game.
I knew this would be interesting because she also appeared to be alone. I'm not cracking up on going to bars alone. Frankly, I wish I could do it more often. I hear that's the best way to meet a gent. I just cannot pull myself to do it. I've done it before but it was the middle of the day and it was just me and the bartender, so you know. I really needed a drink that day.
My point is, women that show up looking like that to a bar, are usually alone. And on the prrrr-owl.
She must've hit up each table with working men sitting at them. We watched (studied) her technique.
She'd slide her way into a group's conversation. Take a seat at their table. Laugh. Toast. Lose interest and leave. She'd go to the bar and get her next drink while surveying the room for her next victims. She'd check out each new happy hour attendee as they walked in.
Then wobble her way to the chosen table.
I almost felt sorry for her, but then I thought that may be me when I'm 50 and single. Seriously, what was so different between her and me? Nothing, but the clothes. I can admit that I've done the same prey-victim dance that she was doing. Many a times and nights at the Fox and Hound. Oh, God, did I really go to the Fox and Hound? (yeah) Back in the day, people, back in the day...
She seemed like fun; each time she got a drink, it was a different drink. Our table started playing, "Guess Her Drink". She had fun colored drinks---red, orange, green, and purple. Purple is the new black, this fall. (FYI)
Then one of my co-workers made the scene and it was time for me to go.
Lessoned learned, lesson learned.
The woman was still alone and preying.
I secretly prayed that she'd find what she was looking for.
Friday, September 30
Thursday, September 29
Models, Yes. Shoppers, No.
$500 on Rodeo Drive, hmm...what to get, what to buy? How about one pair of Manolo Blahniks because that's all you can afford with $500 in Beverly Hills. Oh, but the streets were clean...
Yep, yep I watched America's Next Top Model. It was so bad, it was so good. But in the end, they all looked like they spent a day shopping at the Crenshaw Wal-Mart.
Who the F decided this one?
To explain my self, one of the challenges of last night episode was to shop your personal style. In Beverly Hills. On Rodeo Drive. It ain't so Pretty Woman because it was 6:30 in the morning and they had the street to themselves.
Do you know what I would give to have the entire mall to myself to shop? Do you have any idea?
Well, let's just say I would be hopping around on my left leg from shop to shop to shop. No baby strollers in my way.
No slow walker who doesn't know to veer right. No big freaking huge convention size crowds in your way.
Ahh, would I really miss a leg?
In my world $500 would go far. We're talking at least 5 outfits far. And if I wanted to get real Dallas on it; it could get me 2 outfits.
But it was not Golightly's Next Top Shopping Spree last night. Nooooo...
James St. James, party clubber extrodinaire gave the girls the challenge. Why didn't anyone blink twice when he said $500 and Rodeo Drive in the same sentence? They are fashionistas, right?
And they do know, don't they?
I will let you know, they did appear to only enter Club Monaco and still $500? Have you been inside Club Monaco?
And yet, still they ended up looking like they went to Wal-Mart.
I usually can take this show for what it is. Entertainment. But when they cross over into the real world, shopping and don't do it right, I got to say something.
Yep, yep I watched America's Next Top Model. It was so bad, it was so good. But in the end, they all looked like they spent a day shopping at the Crenshaw Wal-Mart.
Who the F decided this one?
To explain my self, one of the challenges of last night episode was to shop your personal style. In Beverly Hills. On Rodeo Drive. It ain't so Pretty Woman because it was 6:30 in the morning and they had the street to themselves.
Do you know what I would give to have the entire mall to myself to shop? Do you have any idea?
Well, let's just say I would be hopping around on my left leg from shop to shop to shop. No baby strollers in my way.
No slow walker who doesn't know to veer right. No big freaking huge convention size crowds in your way.
Ahh, would I really miss a leg?
In my world $500 would go far. We're talking at least 5 outfits far. And if I wanted to get real Dallas on it; it could get me 2 outfits.
But it was not Golightly's Next Top Shopping Spree last night. Nooooo...
James St. James, party clubber extrodinaire gave the girls the challenge. Why didn't anyone blink twice when he said $500 and Rodeo Drive in the same sentence? They are fashionistas, right?
And they do know, don't they?
I will let you know, they did appear to only enter Club Monaco and still $500? Have you been inside Club Monaco?
And yet, still they ended up looking like they went to Wal-Mart.
I usually can take this show for what it is. Entertainment. But when they cross over into the real world, shopping and don't do it right, I got to say something.
Tuesday, September 27
Keep On Walking
I live in a neighborhood where everything I need is right around the corner.
Hip vintage and clothing stores--check. Laid back bars--check. Sports bars--check. Brunch spots--check. Mexican, Seafood, Italian, Spanish restaurants--check. Gas stations--check. Bookstore, shopping center (with all your everyday shops including the GAP)--check, check, check.
You get the idea. If I could only find a job in my 'hood, I'd be set.
To get to any of these places I can use my own two feet.
Do I?
I run farther than any of them every day, so why don't I walk?
That was the question the other day that I answered.
I thought, hey, I never walk to the grocery store?!? When I first moved to Dallas, an acquaintance I know used to live in the building I live in now. She'd tell me stories of how much in love she was with the neighborhood and how she'd walk to the grocery store all the time.
Hmph, I thought that was silly. Each time I go to the store, I can never leave with just one bag--unless I was running in for some unforeseen necessity. And I'm not walking for any of those items.
Knowing that all I needed was milk and eggs, oh and an onion--I thought I could do it. I'd run to the grocery store, during my morning run, and then walk back, items in tow.
I should have known.
I'm not looking decked out when I run and it was 7:30ish in the morning. Still, I should have known I'd run into somebody I knew.
Remember David, pot smoker with child? Yeah, this one.
He was there with his son, who by the way is the cutest child ever. And he was wearing camo cargo shorts with a white tee---okay, that is my favorite thing to see on a man--camo cargos. I heart them.
Me? I was wearing my Gore-Lieberman tee shirt, automatically dating the shirt to the year 2000 and my blue wind shorts with my name monogram across my behind.
Classy.
You know I was sans make-up and my hair looked like I rolled out of bed and placed it into a ponytail. Because that's what I did.
Oh why do the Gods hate us like that and each time you look your not so best is exactly when you run into someone.
Why couldn't it be Toxic or AP? Someone I don't need to be shiny to see.
The usual 'how are you?' questions came up and the typical you don't really care answers were given. Then I learned all about the son. So freaking cute this one is!
Aww...he was so adorable and excited that his dad was buying him some of the moment kids food. I don't even know how to keep up with that stuff.
We said our good byes and I was left with the thoughts that, that adorable kid could have been my step-child, if everything fell into place meaning if David was the one.
I was so consumed with those thoughts, that a lot more than milk and eggs, oh and an onion were bought.
I left with 3 bags. Plastic bags are not easy to carry for a long haul. Especially when there is around five bags worth of groceries stuffed into three bags because you insisted the bagger because you walked.
Yeah, dummy.
I would have been smart if I told them to double bag the groceries or found David and asked for the ride home.
But I walked. And I lugged those groceries home while praying to someone that neither of the bags busted on the sidewalks. It worked all the way home...what relief.
I don't have an elevator in my building and I live on the third floor and at this point, my muscles and I were worn out.
Could you believe that a few steps away from my apartment door is what broke the bags' back?
And, being me, I just had to buy the cute milk in the glass carafes that look like the milk man delivered it to my door---those are the cutest bottles. Yes, I know Oak Farms makes them in plastic carafe--but we're talking cute milk-man delivery carafes here, c'mon.
So, I cleaned it up, showered, looked decent, and drove back.
No one, that I need to be shiny to see was there. Figures.
Hip vintage and clothing stores--check. Laid back bars--check. Sports bars--check. Brunch spots--check. Mexican, Seafood, Italian, Spanish restaurants--check. Gas stations--check. Bookstore, shopping center (with all your everyday shops including the GAP)--check, check, check.
You get the idea. If I could only find a job in my 'hood, I'd be set.
To get to any of these places I can use my own two feet.
Do I?
I run farther than any of them every day, so why don't I walk?
That was the question the other day that I answered.
I thought, hey, I never walk to the grocery store?!? When I first moved to Dallas, an acquaintance I know used to live in the building I live in now. She'd tell me stories of how much in love she was with the neighborhood and how she'd walk to the grocery store all the time.
Hmph, I thought that was silly. Each time I go to the store, I can never leave with just one bag--unless I was running in for some unforeseen necessity. And I'm not walking for any of those items.
Knowing that all I needed was milk and eggs, oh and an onion--I thought I could do it. I'd run to the grocery store, during my morning run, and then walk back, items in tow.
I should have known.
I'm not looking decked out when I run and it was 7:30ish in the morning. Still, I should have known I'd run into somebody I knew.
Remember David, pot smoker with child? Yeah, this one.
He was there with his son, who by the way is the cutest child ever. And he was wearing camo cargo shorts with a white tee---okay, that is my favorite thing to see on a man--camo cargos. I heart them.
Me? I was wearing my Gore-Lieberman tee shirt, automatically dating the shirt to the year 2000 and my blue wind shorts with my name monogram across my behind.
Classy.
You know I was sans make-up and my hair looked like I rolled out of bed and placed it into a ponytail. Because that's what I did.
Oh why do the Gods hate us like that and each time you look your not so best is exactly when you run into someone.
Why couldn't it be Toxic or AP? Someone I don't need to be shiny to see.
The usual 'how are you?' questions came up and the typical you don't really care answers were given. Then I learned all about the son. So freaking cute this one is!
Aww...he was so adorable and excited that his dad was buying him some of the moment kids food. I don't even know how to keep up with that stuff.
We said our good byes and I was left with the thoughts that, that adorable kid could have been my step-child, if everything fell into place meaning if David was the one.
I was so consumed with those thoughts, that a lot more than milk and eggs, oh and an onion were bought.
I left with 3 bags. Plastic bags are not easy to carry for a long haul. Especially when there is around five bags worth of groceries stuffed into three bags because you insisted the bagger because you walked.
Yeah, dummy.
I would have been smart if I told them to double bag the groceries or found David and asked for the ride home.
But I walked. And I lugged those groceries home while praying to someone that neither of the bags busted on the sidewalks. It worked all the way home...what relief.
I don't have an elevator in my building and I live on the third floor and at this point, my muscles and I were worn out.
Could you believe that a few steps away from my apartment door is what broke the bags' back?
And, being me, I just had to buy the cute milk in the glass carafes that look like the milk man delivered it to my door---those are the cutest bottles. Yes, I know Oak Farms makes them in plastic carafe--but we're talking cute milk-man delivery carafes here, c'mon.
So, I cleaned it up, showered, looked decent, and drove back.
No one, that I need to be shiny to see was there. Figures.
Monday, September 26
Rita Didn't Come
Dallas was spared any rain this weekend. Oh boy, did the wind gust and blow like a mofo. I decided to stay in and have a relaxing weekend just in case there were rainstorms to avoid.
I watched Cold Mountain twice on Encore, and saw the Butterfly Effect as well.
Maybe there was a bigger effect happening as Demi and Ashton were probably tying the knot while I was watching that movie.
Cold Mountain twice?!?!? Oh, yeah. I just love that film. I think there are some great lines and life lessons in it. Not to get too philosophical but if you haven't seen it, do. Renee's Ruby Thewes is the best character, ever.
By Sunday I was going stir crazy and get this, it was 102 degrees outside--no wind, just bright sun. Thanks, Rita. So, I made the below fritatta and then headed out to Rockwall.
People kept telling me how cute Rockwall is and the old town square is a cute place to shop. It's only 20 minutes from my apartment, so I thought, hey, why not? It was cute and don't let anyone know, but I even thought Mesquite was cute. You have to drive through Mesquite to get to Rockwall.
Once in Rockwall, it being Sunday most of the shops in the town square were closed. There was not much to do, that is, until I found a horseback riding stable.
Oh, yes, I did!
The last time I went horseback riding was about two years ago. It is a lot like riding a bike, but still there is a teeny bit moment of fear right before you mount.
Could this horse be having a bad day?
Will I be bucked off?
Will I get kicked in the head?
Will the horse decide this is the day to escape said shelter? Thus, running off to the horizon with me on its back.
There is so much to fear.
Once on, I was like a pro. It was a great day to ride. The stablehand even let me take the horse out on my own. Me. On my own with a horse. It was scary and very cowgirl once I got used to it.
I was so full adrenaline, that once I got back, I cooked a full four-course meal for dinner and watched Desperate Housewives.
I know.
Last year all I could talk about was how I hated this show and it was so overrated. But I just had to find out if Zach shot Mike or Susan. I should have known, some other plot would pull me back in, making me have to watch it next week. Damn you, Alfre Woodard.
Oh, and now my butt is sore from galloping across the Texas country. Bet you wanted to know that, huh!?!
I watched Cold Mountain twice on Encore, and saw the Butterfly Effect as well.
Maybe there was a bigger effect happening as Demi and Ashton were probably tying the knot while I was watching that movie.
Cold Mountain twice?!?!? Oh, yeah. I just love that film. I think there are some great lines and life lessons in it. Not to get too philosophical but if you haven't seen it, do. Renee's Ruby Thewes is the best character, ever.
By Sunday I was going stir crazy and get this, it was 102 degrees outside--no wind, just bright sun. Thanks, Rita. So, I made the below fritatta and then headed out to Rockwall.
People kept telling me how cute Rockwall is and the old town square is a cute place to shop. It's only 20 minutes from my apartment, so I thought, hey, why not? It was cute and don't let anyone know, but I even thought Mesquite was cute. You have to drive through Mesquite to get to Rockwall.
Once in Rockwall, it being Sunday most of the shops in the town square were closed. There was not much to do, that is, until I found a horseback riding stable.
Oh, yes, I did!
The last time I went horseback riding was about two years ago. It is a lot like riding a bike, but still there is a teeny bit moment of fear right before you mount.
Could this horse be having a bad day?
Will I be bucked off?
Will I get kicked in the head?
Will the horse decide this is the day to escape said shelter? Thus, running off to the horizon with me on its back.
There is so much to fear.
Once on, I was like a pro. It was a great day to ride. The stablehand even let me take the horse out on my own. Me. On my own with a horse. It was scary and very cowgirl once I got used to it.
I was so full adrenaline, that once I got back, I cooked a full four-course meal for dinner and watched Desperate Housewives.
I know.
Last year all I could talk about was how I hated this show and it was so overrated. But I just had to find out if Zach shot Mike or Susan. I should have known, some other plot would pull me back in, making me have to watch it next week. Damn you, Alfre Woodard.
Oh, and now my butt is sore from galloping across the Texas country. Bet you wanted to know that, huh!?!
Sunday Fritatta
I love, love, love breakfast/brunch foods. I'm more into going out and meeting friends out for brunch. This weekend, I found a recipe for fritattas and thought, hey-why, not?
I've never made a fritatta before and all my friends seemed busy this weekend. Anyone know the difference between a fritatta and a quiche, please let me know!
Brunch por un coming up.
Ham and Cheese Fritatta
2 tbsp of butter
1 onion sliced
8 eggs
1/4 cup of milk
1 cup diced ham
1 cup of cheese---I used cheddar
1 tablespoon of fresh chopped dill
salt and pepper
In an oven proof skillet, melt the butter. Add onion. Season with salt and pepper. Cook, on medium heat until soft and translucent--about 15 minutes. While that is cooking, pre-heat oven to broil status. Whisk eggs and milk until smooth. Remove onions from the skillet and let cool. Add the ham, cheese, and dill to the egg mixture. Then add the onion. Return mixture to the skillet. Stir once. Cook until the bottom sets. Transfer skillet to the oven. Broil until set/top is browned. Remove and let cool to room temperature.
Enjoy!
I've never made a fritatta before and all my friends seemed busy this weekend. Anyone know the difference between a fritatta and a quiche, please let me know!
Brunch por un coming up.
Ham and Cheese Fritatta
2 tbsp of butter
1 onion sliced
8 eggs
1/4 cup of milk
1 cup diced ham
1 cup of cheese---I used cheddar
1 tablespoon of fresh chopped dill
salt and pepper
In an oven proof skillet, melt the butter. Add onion. Season with salt and pepper. Cook, on medium heat until soft and translucent--about 15 minutes. While that is cooking, pre-heat oven to broil status. Whisk eggs and milk until smooth. Remove onions from the skillet and let cool. Add the ham, cheese, and dill to the egg mixture. Then add the onion. Return mixture to the skillet. Stir once. Cook until the bottom sets. Transfer skillet to the oven. Broil until set/top is browned. Remove and let cool to room temperature.
Enjoy!
Friday, September 23
Enough is Enough
I expect to wait half an hour for gas.
I expected the shortage of water in the supermarket.
I see some people are over-reacting.
I can expect the reports of people's cars over heating and running out of gas.
What else can you expect when the former 4 hour trip from Houston to Dallas is now over 20 hours long?
Things will happen.
But a bus explosion?!?! C'mon...enough is enough.
I was so hit with shock and then sadness when I heard of the bus carrying 40 Senior Citizens.
The bus contained Bellaire residents of a nursing home evacuating to Dallas. They were on highway 45: the main road out of Houston. They made it just south of Dallas. Then boom!
Now, 20 are confirmed dead and the gruesome traffic is now at a standstill.
What the...?
Is this the end of the world?
When I was smaller, let's say under the age of twelve, this is what the end of the world looked like to me. People evacuating cities, traffic for hundreds of miles, food in dismal supplies---granted at that age I did think the end of the world was the year 2000 and the cause would be aliens or something out of this world.
Do you remember those days?
We survived 2000; then 2001 hit and we all know what happened then, and now, now we have two bitches that are just tearing up part of the country. What the heck else can happen? What?!?!
I'd give anything to be that naive age of not comprehending the impact of what is going on. Where a hurricane is just a lot of wind and rain. Where my news source was my parents because I couldn't be bothered or torn away from Barbie dolls to actually watch the news.
Those days are long gone and I'm a grown up; the ages my parents were when shit was happening in their worlds back in that day.
Guess its the innocence that I never thought, ever, that I would have to witness anything like this, ever.
I expected the shortage of water in the supermarket.
I see some people are over-reacting.
I can expect the reports of people's cars over heating and running out of gas.
What else can you expect when the former 4 hour trip from Houston to Dallas is now over 20 hours long?
Things will happen.
But a bus explosion?!?! C'mon...enough is enough.
I was so hit with shock and then sadness when I heard of the bus carrying 40 Senior Citizens.
The bus contained Bellaire residents of a nursing home evacuating to Dallas. They were on highway 45: the main road out of Houston. They made it just south of Dallas. Then boom!
Now, 20 are confirmed dead and the gruesome traffic is now at a standstill.
What the...?
Is this the end of the world?
When I was smaller, let's say under the age of twelve, this is what the end of the world looked like to me. People evacuating cities, traffic for hundreds of miles, food in dismal supplies---granted at that age I did think the end of the world was the year 2000 and the cause would be aliens or something out of this world.
Do you remember those days?
We survived 2000; then 2001 hit and we all know what happened then, and now, now we have two bitches that are just tearing up part of the country. What the heck else can happen? What?!?!
I'd give anything to be that naive age of not comprehending the impact of what is going on. Where a hurricane is just a lot of wind and rain. Where my news source was my parents because I couldn't be bothered or torn away from Barbie dolls to actually watch the news.
Those days are long gone and I'm a grown up; the ages my parents were when shit was happening in their worlds back in that day.
Guess its the innocence that I never thought, ever, that I would have to witness anything like this, ever.
Tuesday, September 20
When I was Young, Gas was...
A funny thing happened to me at the gas pump, the other day. It stopped pumping at $50.
My tank was not full. Seems that my bank puts a limit at the gas station...don't they know the prices have gone up?
Or maybe they still think it's 1999.
While driving to and from work (the only place I can afford to drive to nowadays) it is a must that I glance and read the gas prices while passing gas stations. People who did that and announced the prices out loud used to annoy me.
Now, I wish someone rode with me and could do that for me and keep a tally of where and what the price of gas is.
There have been too many times that I had to settle on $3.29/gallon gas because I needed it, badly. As in red gas light is on and we have no clue how many miles we can afford before stalling on the side of the road.
It's a bitch that as soon as I fill up and leave, I'll pass a station boasting $2.88/gallon.
Mofos.
And that is a deal?!? What the heck is happening here?
Do you remember when gas was only 87 cents per gallon? Do you remember when the gas was so cheap, you'd splurge on the super-duper car wash in addition to your fill-up?
My car hasn't been washed in ages and I blame the gas prices. Uh-huh.
Those machines shouldn't even bother asking people if we'd like to add a car wash.
When my mom was in town we spotted a sign for .99 cent gas...holey moley. I pulled over, we did have a rental that had to be returned with its previous gas tank (isn't that such BS now) and I would be damned if we paid $3.29 for rental car gas!
As I pulled in, all grinning like I found the fountain of youth, my mom thought I was crazy. She's set in her ways, drives a bigger SUV than me, and well gets paid a hella lot more than me, so gas is gas to her--no matter the price. Must be nice.
That grin turned into a scowl. The pump read $2.99/gallon.
I walked into the store and I never do that.
"Uhm, is it me or does the sign out there say you have ninety-nine cent gas?" Now I was in Denton and I could describe what that was like but, oh, this is about gasoline not country-fied bunkins working at gas stations.
"Our signs were not made to hold the number two"
What...the...? You mean to tell me that gas is so expensive that not even the sign can accommodate?!?
Something is wrong.
My tank was not full. Seems that my bank puts a limit at the gas station...don't they know the prices have gone up?
Or maybe they still think it's 1999.
While driving to and from work (the only place I can afford to drive to nowadays) it is a must that I glance and read the gas prices while passing gas stations. People who did that and announced the prices out loud used to annoy me.
Now, I wish someone rode with me and could do that for me and keep a tally of where and what the price of gas is.
There have been too many times that I had to settle on $3.29/gallon gas because I needed it, badly. As in red gas light is on and we have no clue how many miles we can afford before stalling on the side of the road.
It's a bitch that as soon as I fill up and leave, I'll pass a station boasting $2.88/gallon.
Mofos.
And that is a deal?!? What the heck is happening here?
Do you remember when gas was only 87 cents per gallon? Do you remember when the gas was so cheap, you'd splurge on the super-duper car wash in addition to your fill-up?
My car hasn't been washed in ages and I blame the gas prices. Uh-huh.
Those machines shouldn't even bother asking people if we'd like to add a car wash.
When my mom was in town we spotted a sign for .99 cent gas...holey moley. I pulled over, we did have a rental that had to be returned with its previous gas tank (isn't that such BS now) and I would be damned if we paid $3.29 for rental car gas!
As I pulled in, all grinning like I found the fountain of youth, my mom thought I was crazy. She's set in her ways, drives a bigger SUV than me, and well gets paid a hella lot more than me, so gas is gas to her--no matter the price. Must be nice.
That grin turned into a scowl. The pump read $2.99/gallon.
I walked into the store and I never do that.
"Uhm, is it me or does the sign out there say you have ninety-nine cent gas?" Now I was in Denton and I could describe what that was like but, oh, this is about gasoline not country-fied bunkins working at gas stations.
"Our signs were not made to hold the number two"
What...the...? You mean to tell me that gas is so expensive that not even the sign can accommodate?!?
Something is wrong.
Time to Make the (tiny) Doughnuts
Browsing my favorite baking sites, I came across this.
Too freaking cute!
I had another Komen meeting on Friday and was going to impress them with those teeny lil cuties, but then I went out the night before and picking up cupcakes sounded a lot easier.
Dainty doughnuts became Sunday's goal project.
They were a piece of work.
1. Cookie cutters that size don't exist. Don't even try looking for them.
2. This was also my first deep frying experience. All I have to say is wear long sleeves--that flying hot oil hurts!
3. If you are going to unplug your industrial mixer with wet hands be ready for a jolt of electricity like never before. Yeah, I electrocuted myself. It felt weird, so weird I almost tried it again to get the feeling down for description, but once was enough.
4. Yes, the recipe is Martha Stewart. Who cares!?! They were cute and delicious:
Dainty Doughnuts
Makes 50
2 envelopes (2 scant tablespoons) active dry yeast
3/4 cup warm (110°) water
3 1/4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for work surface
2 tablespoons buttermilk, warm
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon salt
6 large egg yolks
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled
Peanut or canola oil, for deep-frying
1 cup superfine sugar, for coating
Nonstick cooking spray
1. In bowl of electric mixer with paddle, stir 1 envelope yeast into 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons warm water. Let stand until foamy, about 5 minutes. Add 1 cup flour; beat with paddle on low until combined. Cover; chill this “sponge” overnight.
2. Remove sponge from refrigerator; bring to room temperature. In separate bowl, mix remaining envelope yeast, 2 tablespoons warm water, and the buttermilk. Let stand until foamy, about 5 minutes.
3. Mix remaining 2 1/4 cups flour, sugar, and salt. Add buttermilk mixture, egg yolks, and cooled melted butter. Beat on low until dough comes together, about 2 minutes. Add sponge; beat until dough is soft and sticky, 3 to 4 minutes. On clean surface, knead a few turns into a ball. Coat bowl with cooking spray; add dough smooth side up. Cover; let stand in warm place until doubled in bulk, about 3 hours.
4. Cut dough into thirds; cover with plastic wrap. On lightly floured surface, roll out each piece 1/4 inch thick. Using 2-inch and 3/4-inch cookie cutters, cut out doughnuts and centers. Place on parchment-lined baking sheet. Let stand in a warm place to rise, 15 minutes.
5. In deep fryer, heat oil to 350°. Fry doughnuts, turning once, until golden brown, about 1 minute total. Drain on paper towels; coat with sugar while warm.
Too freaking cute!
I had another Komen meeting on Friday and was going to impress them with those teeny lil cuties, but then I went out the night before and picking up cupcakes sounded a lot easier.
Dainty doughnuts became Sunday's goal project.
They were a piece of work.
1. Cookie cutters that size don't exist. Don't even try looking for them.
2. This was also my first deep frying experience. All I have to say is wear long sleeves--that flying hot oil hurts!
3. If you are going to unplug your industrial mixer with wet hands be ready for a jolt of electricity like never before. Yeah, I electrocuted myself. It felt weird, so weird I almost tried it again to get the feeling down for description, but once was enough.
4. Yes, the recipe is Martha Stewart. Who cares!?! They were cute and delicious:
Dainty Doughnuts
Makes 50
2 envelopes (2 scant tablespoons) active dry yeast
3/4 cup warm (110°) water
3 1/4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for work surface
2 tablespoons buttermilk, warm
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon salt
6 large egg yolks
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled
Peanut or canola oil, for deep-frying
1 cup superfine sugar, for coating
Nonstick cooking spray
1. In bowl of electric mixer with paddle, stir 1 envelope yeast into 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons warm water. Let stand until foamy, about 5 minutes. Add 1 cup flour; beat with paddle on low until combined. Cover; chill this “sponge” overnight.
2. Remove sponge from refrigerator; bring to room temperature. In separate bowl, mix remaining envelope yeast, 2 tablespoons warm water, and the buttermilk. Let stand until foamy, about 5 minutes.
3. Mix remaining 2 1/4 cups flour, sugar, and salt. Add buttermilk mixture, egg yolks, and cooled melted butter. Beat on low until dough comes together, about 2 minutes. Add sponge; beat until dough is soft and sticky, 3 to 4 minutes. On clean surface, knead a few turns into a ball. Coat bowl with cooking spray; add dough smooth side up. Cover; let stand in warm place until doubled in bulk, about 3 hours.
4. Cut dough into thirds; cover with plastic wrap. On lightly floured surface, roll out each piece 1/4 inch thick. Using 2-inch and 3/4-inch cookie cutters, cut out doughnuts and centers. Place on parchment-lined baking sheet. Let stand in a warm place to rise, 15 minutes.
5. In deep fryer, heat oil to 350°. Fry doughnuts, turning once, until golden brown, about 1 minute total. Drain on paper towels; coat with sugar while warm.
The Power of Song
The other night I was on the phone with my friend, E. I had one particular thing to vent about: my neighbor. Remember, her and this?
My vent was that each time I saw her, she blatantly walks in the other direction and when I walk past her, she whispers things to whomever is with her.
Also, I've called her on many occasions and I get the blow off. My vent and frustration was that I hate when girls treat other girls like boys treat girls. Feel, me?
We already have to deal with all that frustration and angst with men; why treat your fellow girls like that as well?
E had a different take on it, she simply said "hmm" and started singing this:
What are you thinking?
Do you know about us back then?
Do you know I dumped your husband, girlfriend?
I'm not thinking 'bout him
But you married him
Do you know I made him leave?
Do you know he begged to stay with me?
He wasn't man enough for me
What?!?! Oh, yeah E had it figured out that the whole reason Neighbor was treating me this way was because of the Groomsman.
I quickly said, "no, way!"
One, Neighbor told me she was not attracted to him at all. I believed her. Two, there is no guy on Earth that would make me treat another girl like that. No one. Three, she knew me first! I know that sounds so kindergarten, but it's true, she was my friend first.
Toxic and AP thought I was in denial...
Could it be true? Could it?
Is he reason for her to treat me this way?
Then AP confirmed it. I was still in shock that Neighbor would do this. I was 100% sure that Groomsman could not be the reason she was treating me like the trash she slept with on a one night stand.
I looked at every other reasoning there could be...Did I say something wrong at the bar? Did I miss an unreturned phone call? Did I give her dog a mean look?
What could it be?
I went back to E with all this, again. And again, she sang:
Oh yeah So many reasons why our love is through, yeah
What makes you think he'll be good to you, no
It makes no sense cause he will never change
Girl you better recognize the game, oh yeah
E told me to look at the facts, blow the dust off my Toni Braxton CD and really listen to the words. Really listen to them:
Listen girl
Who do you think I am?
Don't you know that he was my man?
But I chose to let him go
So why do you act like
I still care about him?
Looking at me like I'm hurt
When I'm the one who said I didn't
want it to work
Don't you forget I had him first?
What you thinkin'?
Stop playing me
He wasn't man enough for me
If you don't know now here's chance
I've already had your man
Do you wonder just where he's been, yeah?
Do not be worried about him
Now it's time you know the truth
I think he's just the man for you
What are you thinking?
Do you know about us back then?
Do you know i dumped your husband,
girlfriend?
I'm not thinking 'bout him
But you married him
Do you know I made him leave?
Do you know he begged to stay with me?
He wasn't man enough for me
Listen girl
Didn't he tell you the truth?
If not then why don't you ask him?
Then maybe you can be more into him
Instead of worrying about me
And hopefully you won't find
All of the reasons why his love didn't
count And why we couldn't work it out
Oh yeah
So many reasons why our love is
through, yeah
What makes you think he'll be good to you, no
It makes no sense cause he will never change
Girl you better recognize the game, oh yeah
What are you thinking?
Do you know about us back then?
Do you know i dumped your husband,
girlfriend?
I'm not thinking 'bout him
But you married him
Do know I made him leave
Do you know he begged to stay with me
He wasn't man enough for me
My vent was that each time I saw her, she blatantly walks in the other direction and when I walk past her, she whispers things to whomever is with her.
Also, I've called her on many occasions and I get the blow off. My vent and frustration was that I hate when girls treat other girls like boys treat girls. Feel, me?
We already have to deal with all that frustration and angst with men; why treat your fellow girls like that as well?
E had a different take on it, she simply said "hmm" and started singing this:
What are you thinking?
Do you know about us back then?
Do you know I dumped your husband, girlfriend?
I'm not thinking 'bout him
But you married him
Do you know I made him leave?
Do you know he begged to stay with me?
He wasn't man enough for me
What?!?! Oh, yeah E had it figured out that the whole reason Neighbor was treating me this way was because of the Groomsman.
I quickly said, "no, way!"
One, Neighbor told me she was not attracted to him at all. I believed her. Two, there is no guy on Earth that would make me treat another girl like that. No one. Three, she knew me first! I know that sounds so kindergarten, but it's true, she was my friend first.
Toxic and AP thought I was in denial...
Could it be true? Could it?
Is he reason for her to treat me this way?
Then AP confirmed it. I was still in shock that Neighbor would do this. I was 100% sure that Groomsman could not be the reason she was treating me like the trash she slept with on a one night stand.
I looked at every other reasoning there could be...Did I say something wrong at the bar? Did I miss an unreturned phone call? Did I give her dog a mean look?
What could it be?
I went back to E with all this, again. And again, she sang:
Oh yeah So many reasons why our love is through, yeah
What makes you think he'll be good to you, no
It makes no sense cause he will never change
Girl you better recognize the game, oh yeah
E told me to look at the facts, blow the dust off my Toni Braxton CD and really listen to the words. Really listen to them:
Listen girl
Who do you think I am?
Don't you know that he was my man?
But I chose to let him go
So why do you act like
I still care about him?
Looking at me like I'm hurt
When I'm the one who said I didn't
want it to work
Don't you forget I had him first?
What you thinkin'?
Stop playing me
He wasn't man enough for me
If you don't know now here's chance
I've already had your man
Do you wonder just where he's been, yeah?
Do not be worried about him
Now it's time you know the truth
I think he's just the man for you
What are you thinking?
Do you know about us back then?
Do you know i dumped your husband,
girlfriend?
I'm not thinking 'bout him
But you married him
Do you know I made him leave?
Do you know he begged to stay with me?
He wasn't man enough for me
Listen girl
Didn't he tell you the truth?
If not then why don't you ask him?
Then maybe you can be more into him
Instead of worrying about me
And hopefully you won't find
All of the reasons why his love didn't
count And why we couldn't work it out
Oh yeah
So many reasons why our love is
through, yeah
What makes you think he'll be good to you, no
It makes no sense cause he will never change
Girl you better recognize the game, oh yeah
What are you thinking?
Do you know about us back then?
Do you know i dumped your husband,
girlfriend?
I'm not thinking 'bout him
But you married him
Do know I made him leave
Do you know he begged to stay with me
He wasn't man enough for me
Wednesday, September 14
Burgers to Eat By
I got this delicious recipe from Debbie.
It was super easy and spicy, just like I like it.
Chipotle Turkey Burgers
Makes 6
Cooking spray
1 canned chipotle in adobo, plus 1-2 t. of the sauce
2 t. salsa [I used a green chili variety]
1 T. plum sauce [the Chinese kind, to give it a little depth and sweetness]
1 ½ lb. ground turkey
Cheese of your choice [I’d recommend cheddar or jack]
Hamburger buns, toasted
Guacamole
Sliced tomato and red onion
Whatever else you like on a burger…Spray your broiler pan with cooking spray and set aside. [You could also grill these—prepare your grill however you normally do it.]
Puree the chipotle pepper, the sauce, and the salsa in a food processor or blender. Combine it with the ground turkey—don’t overmix it or the burgers will be leaden.
Form into six fairly flat patties—you’ll want to be certain they’re cooked through, so flatter is better. Put the patties on the broiler pan and cook 5-8 minutes per side, depending on how hot your broiler gets.
Add the cheese and return to the heat for about 30 seconds.
YUM!
It was super easy and spicy, just like I like it.
Chipotle Turkey Burgers
Makes 6
Cooking spray
1 canned chipotle in adobo, plus 1-2 t. of the sauce
2 t. salsa [I used a green chili variety]
1 T. plum sauce [the Chinese kind, to give it a little depth and sweetness]
1 ½ lb. ground turkey
Cheese of your choice [I’d recommend cheddar or jack]
Hamburger buns, toasted
Guacamole
Sliced tomato and red onion
Whatever else you like on a burger…Spray your broiler pan with cooking spray and set aside. [You could also grill these—prepare your grill however you normally do it.]
Puree the chipotle pepper, the sauce, and the salsa in a food processor or blender. Combine it with the ground turkey—don’t overmix it or the burgers will be leaden.
Form into six fairly flat patties—you’ll want to be certain they’re cooked through, so flatter is better. Put the patties on the broiler pan and cook 5-8 minutes per side, depending on how hot your broiler gets.
Add the cheese and return to the heat for about 30 seconds.
YUM!
Tuesday, September 13
Finally, DQ Country, or shall I say, DQ Ghetto?
How to find a Dairy Queen
1. Don't look it up in the phone book. That is so 1998.
2. Do forget to look it up on-line
3. Do call T-Mobile's 411, pay the $1, only to be directed to a location 40 miles from you.
3. Do ask a bum. They are more resourceful than you think.
My mom and I ventured into unknown land last night. Some may call it 5 minutes from my apartment. Some may call it South Dallas. Some may even say, it is the ghetto.
We turned a blind eye to the gangsta wannabes staring us up and down. We ignored the stares of what I can assume were call girls. We kept our purses close and our eyes akimbo. It was a locked car door situation the whole ride to and back. All for the sake of some ice cream and chicken fingers.
For us, it was Mecca--land of the DQ. My mom finally got her Blizzard fix and I rediscovered the Country Basket meal and chocolate dipped ice cream. Oh. My.
It was so freaking good.
And so bad, that now, I know this DQ exists minutes away from my place. When we left, my mom put her warning in, "Now, don't be coming here all the time. You finally look trim; I'd hate to see that chub-chub come back."
She wouldn't be my mom unless she mentioned that.
The fun began once we got back to my place. Being Monday night; there are 2 things that I don't miss on television. Girlfriends and Weeds. Can you see where this is going? Girlfriends is when I should have stopped controlling the remote.
Before Weeds began, I forewarned her and gave her the backstory about the show. Seeing her expressions, I should have known to just skip it and catch the replay on Wednesday night. I should have known.
Not even two minutes into this, my mom started up, "Wait, she sells marijuana and she has those kids?"
Yes, mom.
"She sells out of her house with the kids?"
Not really, mom.
"This is not funny. Why do you think this is funny?"
I don't know, mom.
"Two kids, she is not a good mom", and then, "Someone should report her to child services"
Jeez, channel change. I was too annoyed. I didn't even get to see Celia cure her jungle fever--Celia would've really been over the top for my mom.
"You didn't have to change the channel. I was just trying to find the humor in it"
Yeah, right. I don't know how I made it through watching the first 3 seasons of Sex and the City with her.
1. Don't look it up in the phone book. That is so 1998.
2. Do forget to look it up on-line
3. Do call T-Mobile's 411, pay the $1, only to be directed to a location 40 miles from you.
3. Do ask a bum. They are more resourceful than you think.
My mom and I ventured into unknown land last night. Some may call it 5 minutes from my apartment. Some may call it South Dallas. Some may even say, it is the ghetto.
We turned a blind eye to the gangsta wannabes staring us up and down. We ignored the stares of what I can assume were call girls. We kept our purses close and our eyes akimbo. It was a locked car door situation the whole ride to and back. All for the sake of some ice cream and chicken fingers.
For us, it was Mecca--land of the DQ. My mom finally got her Blizzard fix and I rediscovered the Country Basket meal and chocolate dipped ice cream. Oh. My.
It was so freaking good.
And so bad, that now, I know this DQ exists minutes away from my place. When we left, my mom put her warning in, "Now, don't be coming here all the time. You finally look trim; I'd hate to see that chub-chub come back."
She wouldn't be my mom unless she mentioned that.
The fun began once we got back to my place. Being Monday night; there are 2 things that I don't miss on television. Girlfriends and Weeds. Can you see where this is going? Girlfriends is when I should have stopped controlling the remote.
Before Weeds began, I forewarned her and gave her the backstory about the show. Seeing her expressions, I should have known to just skip it and catch the replay on Wednesday night. I should have known.
Not even two minutes into this, my mom started up, "Wait, she sells marijuana and she has those kids?"
Yes, mom.
"She sells out of her house with the kids?"
Not really, mom.
"This is not funny. Why do you think this is funny?"
I don't know, mom.
"Two kids, she is not a good mom", and then, "Someone should report her to child services"
Jeez, channel change. I was too annoyed. I didn't even get to see Celia cure her jungle fever--Celia would've really been over the top for my mom.
"You didn't have to change the channel. I was just trying to find the humor in it"
Yeah, right. I don't know how I made it through watching the first 3 seasons of Sex and the City with her.
Monday, September 12
My Mom, My Pimp
My mom decided to surprise visit me this weekend. She never does stuff like this, so I was waiting for some kind of surprise bomb to go off at any moment...still waiting.
Twenty minutes and not even settled in, she says, "Golightly, before I forget, we definitely need to hit up Taco Cabana and Dairy Queen."
OK, Taco Cabana, definitely, but Dairy Queen...is she pregnant? Still waiting for the bomb to drop.
Turns out the nearest DQ for her in Phoenix is hella far and out of the city and she's been craving a blizzard like nobody's business. Oh, and there are no Taco Cabanas in Arizona. Each time she comes to visit we go there, first. But this is the first time, DQ has been in the mix.
Now since I live here, you'd think I would know where a Dairy Queen is, well, I don't. I made the stereotypical decision that they only existed outside of Dallas-proper. I told her, we'd have to call information (yeah, no internet in my apartment) and find out.
Saturday, my mom disclosed the other reason she was in town: to help the evacuees. By help, she meant we (me and her) had to go shopping for the necessities that they didn't have. OK--I'm all for help and am all about the shopping, but when it becomes an all day affair, oy! We shopped until her rented Cherokee was packed. S
since she had no idea where she was going, I did all the driving around town. Logically, we could not drop off our buys to the evacuees in the middle of the day (so my mom said) so when we were finished shopping for them and were now, selfishly buying stuff for ourselves...oh, wait when she was buying stuff for us.
That's the best part of my mom and shopping--she still thinks of me as a poor post graduate, which I guess I am technically, so, shop away! So here we are driving around with a Jeep load of toilet paper, generic tee shirts (in all sizes and colors. My mom thought they needed variety. Her words.), linens, and tolietries, shopping our butts off and looking for a Dairy Queen along the way. Well, we found IKEA and an outlet mall instead, which was conveniently near a wine festival...so no DQ today.
Then, I made her sit through the Ohio v. UT game, wha wha ha ha ha--the only thing my mom knows about football is that its brown.
Sunday, you'd think we'd rest. Ha ha ha ha ha.
No, we shopped some more. When my mom stays at my apartment; she finds 10,000 things that she would like to change or do; interior decorating wise. Last time, my bed was too small and too old--so she went out and got me a King size bed. This time, my walls are just too bare and too white. After watching a marathon of shows on HGTV--mostly gardening shows because that's what they play on Sundays, we headed to Home Depot, Lowe's, Crate and Barrel, and Pottery Barn because you know they just may have paint.
Now with a bucket of paint, you'd think we'd paint, right?
Ha ha. We shop, we eat, but we don't paint.
We ate Taco Cabana and got half drunk on margaritas. Yum. And it turns out margaritas make my mom a pimp. The Taco Cabana we were at, is in a neighborhood which is predominately gay and border line hood-ish. So, the prospects are not my cup of tea. Still, she managed to talk to anyone male that sat in ear shot of us.
I say earshot, mind you, she yells when tipsy, so earshot was really Clear. Across. The patio.
Yeah, I have lots to talk about with the therapist this week. Lots.
Drunk as she was, this was the time that DQ was needed, uhm, wanted. It was very difficult to explain to my mom that there was no DQ's anywhere near us. Especially since she was drunk. Ai-ya-ya.
This morning (Monday) she woke up at the crack of dawn. I thought she was getting ready to paint. Nope, she was getting ready to deliver her bought goods to the evacuees and spend the day volunteering*. She's determined to find herself a college student to take in.
Oh. Gosh.
I'm all for the charity. All for it. What happened to that phrase, "charity begins at home"?
If she's going to start it, as in buy paint, she needs to paint her some walls before she leaves tomorrow. Word. Oh, and can she cook something? It has been 5 years since I have tasted my mom's island home cooking...oh, yeah, 5 years.
You may be thinking, but Golightly you've seen your mom since and have visited on Thanksgiving--uhm hmm and do you think she cooked turkey? No. Do you see those recipes I post up here? Yeah, I cook. She should paint.
Oh, but I love my mom.
*oh,, yeah and she's been calling my office every other half hour to give me an update. It is driving me bonkers.
Twenty minutes and not even settled in, she says, "Golightly, before I forget, we definitely need to hit up Taco Cabana and Dairy Queen."
OK, Taco Cabana, definitely, but Dairy Queen...is she pregnant? Still waiting for the bomb to drop.
Turns out the nearest DQ for her in Phoenix is hella far and out of the city and she's been craving a blizzard like nobody's business. Oh, and there are no Taco Cabanas in Arizona. Each time she comes to visit we go there, first. But this is the first time, DQ has been in the mix.
Now since I live here, you'd think I would know where a Dairy Queen is, well, I don't. I made the stereotypical decision that they only existed outside of Dallas-proper. I told her, we'd have to call information (yeah, no internet in my apartment) and find out.
Saturday, my mom disclosed the other reason she was in town: to help the evacuees. By help, she meant we (me and her) had to go shopping for the necessities that they didn't have. OK--I'm all for help and am all about the shopping, but when it becomes an all day affair, oy! We shopped until her rented Cherokee was packed. S
since she had no idea where she was going, I did all the driving around town. Logically, we could not drop off our buys to the evacuees in the middle of the day (so my mom said) so when we were finished shopping for them and were now, selfishly buying stuff for ourselves...oh, wait when she was buying stuff for us.
That's the best part of my mom and shopping--she still thinks of me as a poor post graduate, which I guess I am technically, so, shop away! So here we are driving around with a Jeep load of toilet paper, generic tee shirts (in all sizes and colors. My mom thought they needed variety. Her words.), linens, and tolietries, shopping our butts off and looking for a Dairy Queen along the way. Well, we found IKEA and an outlet mall instead, which was conveniently near a wine festival...so no DQ today.
Then, I made her sit through the Ohio v. UT game, wha wha ha ha ha--the only thing my mom knows about football is that its brown.
Sunday, you'd think we'd rest. Ha ha ha ha ha.
No, we shopped some more. When my mom stays at my apartment; she finds 10,000 things that she would like to change or do; interior decorating wise. Last time, my bed was too small and too old--so she went out and got me a King size bed. This time, my walls are just too bare and too white. After watching a marathon of shows on HGTV--mostly gardening shows because that's what they play on Sundays, we headed to Home Depot, Lowe's, Crate and Barrel, and Pottery Barn because you know they just may have paint.
Now with a bucket of paint, you'd think we'd paint, right?
Ha ha. We shop, we eat, but we don't paint.
We ate Taco Cabana and got half drunk on margaritas. Yum. And it turns out margaritas make my mom a pimp. The Taco Cabana we were at, is in a neighborhood which is predominately gay and border line hood-ish. So, the prospects are not my cup of tea. Still, she managed to talk to anyone male that sat in ear shot of us.
I say earshot, mind you, she yells when tipsy, so earshot was really Clear. Across. The patio.
Yeah, I have lots to talk about with the therapist this week. Lots.
Drunk as she was, this was the time that DQ was needed, uhm, wanted. It was very difficult to explain to my mom that there was no DQ's anywhere near us. Especially since she was drunk. Ai-ya-ya.
This morning (Monday) she woke up at the crack of dawn. I thought she was getting ready to paint. Nope, she was getting ready to deliver her bought goods to the evacuees and spend the day volunteering*. She's determined to find herself a college student to take in.
Oh. Gosh.
I'm all for the charity. All for it. What happened to that phrase, "charity begins at home"?
If she's going to start it, as in buy paint, she needs to paint her some walls before she leaves tomorrow. Word. Oh, and can she cook something? It has been 5 years since I have tasted my mom's island home cooking...oh, yeah, 5 years.
You may be thinking, but Golightly you've seen your mom since and have visited on Thanksgiving--uhm hmm and do you think she cooked turkey? No. Do you see those recipes I post up here? Yeah, I cook. She should paint.
Oh, but I love my mom.
*oh,, yeah and she's been calling my office every other half hour to give me an update. It is driving me bonkers.
Thursday, September 8
Mercy Me
Payback is a bitch.
Last Friday, I went out with some work people for happy hour. That hour became a happy night and a not so good morning.
Remember, this night?
Yeah, I never paid the $200 they decided I owed. One, I thought it was ridiculous. Two, I was only there for an hour of those festivities and drank about 3 or 4 glasses of wine--tell me that is worth $200. I think, not.
So, I didn't pay. Big deal. I bring in cupcakes to the office more times than are needed. Seriously. And I do a lot more of other people's work, without being asked and without a simple 'thank you'. Word. Plus, I make a lot less than my drinking buddy. When I say a lot less---believe me. A lot. LESS.
With that in mind, when I go out drinking, I know how much I can afford and only drink that much. When I haven't had dinner (or lunch); it may appear to you that I drank a lot more than oh, the mere 3 margaritas and beer.
I was with one of my co-workers. Conveniently, one of the co-workers that pitched in $300, that other night. Wrong drinking buddy. I'm sure, she did drink $300 worth of alcohol.
The last thing I remembered was when another person joined us...fade to next morning when I wake up in Co-worker's beautiful guest bedroom. Fully clothed--thank goodness. Not fully working, mind you.
My body hurt. My car was still at the bar. My wallet was with another co-worker. But, my debit card (ha ha) was with me, in my pocket, wrapped inside the receipt.
Oy. The receipt.
After eating a breakfast, on the way to pick up my car, I asked Co-Worker, "Did we really drink this much?"
"Yeah"
"Seriously, did we order a bottle or something?" I reached into my pocket.
"No, I don't think so"
"How do we explain this?" I waved the bill in the air, maybe that was supposed to make it disappear?!?!
"Oh, well, now we are even from Mercy."
WHAT THE FUCK?
Then she added, like it was no big deal: "I'll get the next time"
Yeah. Right.
Last Friday, I went out with some work people for happy hour. That hour became a happy night and a not so good morning.
Remember, this night?
Yeah, I never paid the $200 they decided I owed. One, I thought it was ridiculous. Two, I was only there for an hour of those festivities and drank about 3 or 4 glasses of wine--tell me that is worth $200. I think, not.
So, I didn't pay. Big deal. I bring in cupcakes to the office more times than are needed. Seriously. And I do a lot more of other people's work, without being asked and without a simple 'thank you'. Word. Plus, I make a lot less than my drinking buddy. When I say a lot less---believe me. A lot. LESS.
With that in mind, when I go out drinking, I know how much I can afford and only drink that much. When I haven't had dinner (or lunch); it may appear to you that I drank a lot more than oh, the mere 3 margaritas and beer.
I was with one of my co-workers. Conveniently, one of the co-workers that pitched in $300, that other night. Wrong drinking buddy. I'm sure, she did drink $300 worth of alcohol.
The last thing I remembered was when another person joined us...fade to next morning when I wake up in Co-worker's beautiful guest bedroom. Fully clothed--thank goodness. Not fully working, mind you.
My body hurt. My car was still at the bar. My wallet was with another co-worker. But, my debit card (ha ha) was with me, in my pocket, wrapped inside the receipt.
Oy. The receipt.
After eating a breakfast, on the way to pick up my car, I asked Co-Worker, "Did we really drink this much?"
"Yeah"
"Seriously, did we order a bottle or something?" I reached into my pocket.
"No, I don't think so"
"How do we explain this?" I waved the bill in the air, maybe that was supposed to make it disappear?!?!
"Oh, well, now we are even from Mercy."
WHAT THE FUCK?
Then she added, like it was no big deal: "I'll get the next time"
Yeah. Right.
Wednesday, September 7
Oh...prah.
Could you have least given us a warning of all the dead bodies, puss, and bones we were going to see? At least.
I don't know when Oprah got to the situation. I don't know how long it took people to get out there.
But "blatant disregard"? What is that? Who are they speaking of, when they say that?
I don't think it was a disregard at all, I think the government or whomever got there as quickly as they could. Gee, did they want them out there while the winds and rains were at their worst?
C'mon.
It pissed me off to hear Jamie Foxx say it; then Oprah had to repeat it. Oh, Lord.
If this happened in a more affluent city, I seriously doubt help would have arrived quicker. What I do think would've happened, is that we wouldn't have seen so much looting. Looting, yes. But, not so much.
I do think it would have been just as much of a catastrophe. I think that more people would have been able to evacuate the city. Not saying, poorer people don't know how to leave a city or have half the brain to do so, but...I think richer people are more able to leave behind their homes and possessions.
Poor people, like those in New Orleans, have worked life times to gain what they have and most of their houses were their parent's and grandparent's homes. It is harder to leave, when that is all you have. It is harder to leave when you believe the city is only going to flood and have levees to secure any other waters. It is hard to leave when you know of no other place to go. It is hard to leave when you are unsure of what is out there.
Was I disappointed with Oprah?
Naturally.
Without exactly saying it, she was making it a racial issue and blaming people for disregarding the Black folk.
Oh and then of course she went and spoke to my new favorite Mayor. He seriously needs to stop pointing fingers, get rid of the entourage, throw away that white towel, and do something! I have, yet to see him do anything. I have seen Sean Penn do more than him. What does that tell you?
But last night on Oprah, he did do something. In the most dramatic fashion, he tried to stop Oprah from entering the Superdome.
"Oprah, I don't think you can handle it", he told her.
"Yes, I can. I want to see it. Let me in", she begged him and the National Guard at the door. Her point mainly was why couldn't she get in, when they let thousands of evacuees in prior?
They told her and made it witness on camera. I could've been spared those dramatics. She told them that she was braver than they thought and they let her in.
She is Oprah.
The rest of the show Oprah's friend, the doctor went and volunteered his medical expertise. Nate Berkus and Lisa Ling saved the world one dog owner at a time. Matty found a woman's daughter and gave her a reunion via a cell phone. Ahh, technology. Jamie Foxx helped feed thousands in Dallas. At the end Oprah reunited a woman with her family; then a Houstonian volunteered his home to that family for as long as they need.
I cannot wait for tonight's show: Part Two.
I really hate to get political. I'm trying really hard to see this from a different prospective.
I just cannot help but wonder: Where are the big corporations? Where are their donations/monies? If Oprah can, can't they?
Why do I need to see Faith Hill boxing up toothpaste? Where is Colgate?
Procter-Gamble, come on...
I don't know when Oprah got to the situation. I don't know how long it took people to get out there.
But "blatant disregard"? What is that? Who are they speaking of, when they say that?
I don't think it was a disregard at all, I think the government or whomever got there as quickly as they could. Gee, did they want them out there while the winds and rains were at their worst?
C'mon.
It pissed me off to hear Jamie Foxx say it; then Oprah had to repeat it. Oh, Lord.
If this happened in a more affluent city, I seriously doubt help would have arrived quicker. What I do think would've happened, is that we wouldn't have seen so much looting. Looting, yes. But, not so much.
I do think it would have been just as much of a catastrophe. I think that more people would have been able to evacuate the city. Not saying, poorer people don't know how to leave a city or have half the brain to do so, but...I think richer people are more able to leave behind their homes and possessions.
Poor people, like those in New Orleans, have worked life times to gain what they have and most of their houses were their parent's and grandparent's homes. It is harder to leave, when that is all you have. It is harder to leave when you believe the city is only going to flood and have levees to secure any other waters. It is hard to leave when you know of no other place to go. It is hard to leave when you are unsure of what is out there.
Was I disappointed with Oprah?
Naturally.
Without exactly saying it, she was making it a racial issue and blaming people for disregarding the Black folk.
Oh and then of course she went and spoke to my new favorite Mayor. He seriously needs to stop pointing fingers, get rid of the entourage, throw away that white towel, and do something! I have, yet to see him do anything. I have seen Sean Penn do more than him. What does that tell you?
But last night on Oprah, he did do something. In the most dramatic fashion, he tried to stop Oprah from entering the Superdome.
"Oprah, I don't think you can handle it", he told her.
"Yes, I can. I want to see it. Let me in", she begged him and the National Guard at the door. Her point mainly was why couldn't she get in, when they let thousands of evacuees in prior?
They told her and made it witness on camera. I could've been spared those dramatics. She told them that she was braver than they thought and they let her in.
She is Oprah.
The rest of the show Oprah's friend, the doctor went and volunteered his medical expertise. Nate Berkus and Lisa Ling saved the world one dog owner at a time. Matty found a woman's daughter and gave her a reunion via a cell phone. Ahh, technology. Jamie Foxx helped feed thousands in Dallas. At the end Oprah reunited a woman with her family; then a Houstonian volunteered his home to that family for as long as they need.
I cannot wait for tonight's show: Part Two.
I really hate to get political. I'm trying really hard to see this from a different prospective.
I just cannot help but wonder: Where are the big corporations? Where are their donations/monies? If Oprah can, can't they?
Why do I need to see Faith Hill boxing up toothpaste? Where is Colgate?
Procter-Gamble, come on...
Tuesday, September 6
Letting My Freak Flag Fly
Katrina, you bitch.
See, that's all I really have to say about it.
I'm Black and it disgusts me that in the end of all this, Black people sure are going to get a bad rep for all this. Can you blame it? Why, why do they have to be the ones on my television screen looting and shooting? Why are they the ones molesting and raping people while captive in the dome? Why did Kanye have to open his big mouth and make it a racial issue?
My take on it, is this--they are all in the same boat (no pun); Black, White, Hispanic...they all lost more than what they will ever recover. My shock, or maybe my ignorance is that I had no idea that there were that many poor people in New Orleans. And, yes the majority of them are Black. Still, I had no idea. After seeing those pictures and live shots, my clueless brain couldn't even comprehend that that many people existed on welfare?!?!
What the...?
Can we discuss the Mayor? Is it just me or does he sound like he belongs with 50 Cent's entourage? Listen to him, next time, I'm just waiting for him to say, "Yo, Was'sup, Ai'ight"
Is that wrong?
I feel I can say those things because, well, I am Black. Still, the situation disgusts me and terrifies me. Yet, it is so sad....then, Oprah for President?!?
OK--I have to set aside my hate for this woman indefinitely because I just saw a commercial where Oprah was down in the swamps, New Orleans, and Houston. The show airs today. Not just Oprah was down there, so was Matty, Faith Hill, Nate Berkus (duh--all we have to do is send him down and we can rebuild anything), Lisa Ling, and uhm, yeah, you know who: Gayle.
They are all going to help fix the problem!
Can I just say this: I'm almost embarrassed--how is it Oprah can get down there and do something, but the National Guard couldn't?
How?
How is she down there and our own President was down there for half a day. Half a day!
That's my take on it so far. I don't want this to turn into a political rant or blame someone for not doing something sooner, esp when they knew it was going to happen...I just wanted to say my piece. So there it is.
Now, we can discuss shallow shit.
And by shallow, I mean "Weeds".
Holy Moley this is the best thing on TV right now. Well, not right now, but on Mondays, at least. I've been meaning to write about it since I saw Twisted's post on the theme song--which yes, is catchy and brilliant. Nobody I know, besides Twisted has Showtime, so I miss out on watercooler discussions of each episode.
Last night I was peeing in my pants. I love, love, love Andy (Randy--hee hee), ever since he has been on, it's been laughs all the way 'round.
For those of you who don't know what I'm speaking of..."Weeds" is about a suburban widow, Nancy--played by Mary Louise Parker, dealing marijuana to support her family of 2 sons. One son is quite deranged and affected by his father's death--but in an innocent 10 year old kind of way, which makes it so adorable. The other son is a raging hormone teenager, who was a deaf girlfriend. The deaf girl is famous for giving the best head.
Just that alone, makes it funny...but there are more characters: Lupita, the maid. I don't know how they can still afford a maid, but hey, she's still leasing a new Land Rover, so what can you do? Anyways, Lupita delivered what I think was the best joke of last night's show: Andy (Nancy's brother in law) and Nancy's number one client, Kevin Nealon were sitting in the living room, debating what the area between the asshole and the dick were while getting baked and watching a porn. Lupita hates Andy, she already caught him, uhm pleasuring himself. Andy asked Lupita "What do you call the area between the dick and the asshole?" Lupita answered, "The coffee table"
Maybe you have to see it. Believe me, HILARIOUS!
Then there is the Black family who is Nancy's supplier. They crack me up and the drive by last night was hilarious. And then there is Celia. Celia is that PTA mom, that every other mom aspires to be and her children hate her. This woman replaced laxatives with her daughter's chocolate stash, to teach her a lesson in losing weight. Celia is played by Elizabeth Perkins. She plays bitch real well.
This show makes me go "Desperate Housewives", who?
If I was paying for Showtime, I'd cancel my HBO (because seriously, Rome? We'll discuss that another day)
So if you have Showtime, watch it, if not, do like me and call your cable company and tell them, this: "My neighbor got free Showtime for 6 months when they signed up with you guys. I wasn't offered that deal. What can you do about that?"
I tell you it works because SNAP! I got 6 months of free Showtime for oh, 13 months now. Don't tell them that, though.
See, that's all I really have to say about it.
I'm Black and it disgusts me that in the end of all this, Black people sure are going to get a bad rep for all this. Can you blame it? Why, why do they have to be the ones on my television screen looting and shooting? Why are they the ones molesting and raping people while captive in the dome? Why did Kanye have to open his big mouth and make it a racial issue?
My take on it, is this--they are all in the same boat (no pun); Black, White, Hispanic...they all lost more than what they will ever recover. My shock, or maybe my ignorance is that I had no idea that there were that many poor people in New Orleans. And, yes the majority of them are Black. Still, I had no idea. After seeing those pictures and live shots, my clueless brain couldn't even comprehend that that many people existed on welfare?!?!
What the...?
Can we discuss the Mayor? Is it just me or does he sound like he belongs with 50 Cent's entourage? Listen to him, next time, I'm just waiting for him to say, "Yo, Was'sup, Ai'ight"
Is that wrong?
I feel I can say those things because, well, I am Black. Still, the situation disgusts me and terrifies me. Yet, it is so sad....then, Oprah for President?!?
OK--I have to set aside my hate for this woman indefinitely because I just saw a commercial where Oprah was down in the swamps, New Orleans, and Houston. The show airs today. Not just Oprah was down there, so was Matty, Faith Hill, Nate Berkus (duh--all we have to do is send him down and we can rebuild anything), Lisa Ling, and uhm, yeah, you know who: Gayle.
They are all going to help fix the problem!
Can I just say this: I'm almost embarrassed--how is it Oprah can get down there and do something, but the National Guard couldn't?
How?
How is she down there and our own President was down there for half a day. Half a day!
That's my take on it so far. I don't want this to turn into a political rant or blame someone for not doing something sooner, esp when they knew it was going to happen...I just wanted to say my piece. So there it is.
Now, we can discuss shallow shit.
And by shallow, I mean "Weeds".
Holy Moley this is the best thing on TV right now. Well, not right now, but on Mondays, at least. I've been meaning to write about it since I saw Twisted's post on the theme song--which yes, is catchy and brilliant. Nobody I know, besides Twisted has Showtime, so I miss out on watercooler discussions of each episode.
Last night I was peeing in my pants. I love, love, love Andy (Randy--hee hee), ever since he has been on, it's been laughs all the way 'round.
For those of you who don't know what I'm speaking of..."Weeds" is about a suburban widow, Nancy--played by Mary Louise Parker, dealing marijuana to support her family of 2 sons. One son is quite deranged and affected by his father's death--but in an innocent 10 year old kind of way, which makes it so adorable. The other son is a raging hormone teenager, who was a deaf girlfriend. The deaf girl is famous for giving the best head.
Just that alone, makes it funny...but there are more characters: Lupita, the maid. I don't know how they can still afford a maid, but hey, she's still leasing a new Land Rover, so what can you do? Anyways, Lupita delivered what I think was the best joke of last night's show: Andy (Nancy's brother in law) and Nancy's number one client, Kevin Nealon were sitting in the living room, debating what the area between the asshole and the dick were while getting baked and watching a porn. Lupita hates Andy, she already caught him, uhm pleasuring himself. Andy asked Lupita "What do you call the area between the dick and the asshole?" Lupita answered, "The coffee table"
Maybe you have to see it. Believe me, HILARIOUS!
Then there is the Black family who is Nancy's supplier. They crack me up and the drive by last night was hilarious. And then there is Celia. Celia is that PTA mom, that every other mom aspires to be and her children hate her. This woman replaced laxatives with her daughter's chocolate stash, to teach her a lesson in losing weight. Celia is played by Elizabeth Perkins. She plays bitch real well.
This show makes me go "Desperate Housewives", who?
If I was paying for Showtime, I'd cancel my HBO (because seriously, Rome? We'll discuss that another day)
So if you have Showtime, watch it, if not, do like me and call your cable company and tell them, this: "My neighbor got free Showtime for 6 months when they signed up with you guys. I wasn't offered that deal. What can you do about that?"
I tell you it works because SNAP! I got 6 months of free Showtime for oh, 13 months now. Don't tell them that, though.
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