Hodge Podge
I’m too busy tonight to write a post with a — what-do-you-call-it? — a central idea, that’s it. But who needs a central idea anyway?
First, I made oven-braised Mexican beef!!!!
I haven’t exactly tasted it yet, because it’s quarter past eleven and it just got done cooking (not so great on the timing of things yet), but it looks like the picture! And I only had to call my sister with two Cooking for Dumbs questions: (1) How important is a half-teaspoon of fish sauce in a recipe that uses 2.5 lbs of beef? [She said not terribly but that I should’ve just come over because she has some. Of course she does.] (2) It’s not a good idea to leave the oven on while I go to the gym, right? [Right.]
Second, I was this close to calling the cops to report the screaming domestic dispute next door when I looked outside and Durham’s Finest were already there. Nice work, guys!
Third, HOW GREAT IS THE BLOG’S NEW LOOK? Big thanks to Angie at Lime Tiger, who is not only talented but funny and fun to work with, and Phil, to whom I emailed the documentation for the theme and said, “Wah. You do it.” And he did. What a gem, that guy.
Protected: World’s Creepiest Pourquoi Tale
Oops! Belated Retrobruxist Friday 11/23/12
Holiday schedule! Totally forgot Retrobruxist Friday!
Three years ago, I wrote about the day I earned my freedom. I was just yesterday saying to somebody that, as much as I would like a partner and a family, I realize that going out to Geer Street Garden with my friends on a Wednesday evening — that’s what says freedom to me these days — is a function of being single and childless, and I do appreciate it.
I had one of my rare sex dreams two years ago. <shudder> <not in a good way>
A year ago, I told a parable. You should read it, for learning. But also for the comments afterward which were really funny.
ALSO, I started a tumblr because I know you were dying to know what things on the internet are good.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday (two days late), y’all.
Cooking for Dumbs: Bacon-wrapped Dates (Vlog!)
New vlog! I suppose I could’ve put some makeup on, but it was early, and
Change takes time, people.
Also, yes, those are benzoyl peroxide bleach stains on my shirt. I’m fancy.
P.S. I forgot to mention, so you don’t inadvertently end up in a relationship with the grocery guy, the dates are WITH THE RAISINS.
Thanks
I’m thankful for dogs
My dogs,
Two foster dogs, and the three mommies who said
Ours
Mine
For my mom who gave me room to make
big mistakes
Look at all that room,
all those mistakes
For Dad, an old dog who tries real hard
to learn new tricks
from his pups
I’m thankful my sister
made a decision to drop out of Bryn Mawr
for some guy
22 years and counting of that guy
I’m thankful my friend humored me and emailed my brother
on his 30th to say
Happy Birthday
and that my brother emailed back
I’m thankful for the little pitchers
the eldest who says Yes
as often and with as much enthusiasm
as her dad (that guy)
for the huggy loud destructive one
for Darfy, even when sharing’s hard
for the one who wrinkles her nose with every Cheese
and the little guy that roars
I’m thankful for Cat, Kate, Cat & Kathleen, Erika & Heather
the Pod
and Zombie Squad
Durhamites, CFDers
Chapel Hill peoples, Seawell School and Lab! Theatre
Cuttyhunk friends
Margo
and Dan New Jersey
I’m thankful for stories
for the Monti, for Jeff
for this
for you
who read
who listen
Thanks
I Know Somewhere You Can Insert Your Shortcode
You guys, I bought this new WordPress theme for the blog and hired a graphic designer to make a little banner image for me. Now I’m trying to, you know, put it all on here, and I’m doing some crying.
Not weeping. Just tearing up a little every time I try (five times so far) because before I email the theme people, I’m supposed to post in the tech help forum, and before I post in the tech help form, I’m supposed to read the threads that are already there, and before I read those threads, I’m supposed to read the documentation for the theme, and I can’t read the documentation for the theme, you guys. I can’t read the documentation for the theme.
You guys.
I teach English, but I can’t read this stuff.
It’s all “.zip file” and “FTP client”, and “make sure your host is running the latest version of PHP and MySQL”. The fuck.
And it’s telling me to activate the theme, but in the live preview, my shit is jacked up. I don’t want to activate it if it’s going to look like that.
So I skipped the forum and emailed. Not only that, I emailed to ask if they could call me.
They said no.
So I’m just crying a little bit. Boo hoo.
Protected: Victorious Is What Happened
How Much for That Black Skull, No the One with the Flames
Just got home. Some friends and I rented a cabin up in the mountains for the weekend. We hiked. We hot-tubbed. We had a good time.
Saturday we went into the tiny town of Chimney Rock. Recently I lost an earring from my favorite pair, and shortly thereafter, one from my second favorite pair, so I was hoping that there would be some artsy-craftsy stores selling silver jewelry.
I didn’t find any, but I did find these items for sale.
[UPDATE: To be clear, these photos were taken in nine different stores. Some of my friends thought this was one magical shit-store, but no. All the stores in Chimney Rock are shit-stores.]
The whole town of Chimney Rock belongs on the Worst Things for Sale website.
Retrobruxist Friday 11/16/12
Redford was just a baby three years ago, and a lil’ goof-bucket. He’s still a goof-bucket, but giant, and an affection bully, busting into your embrace of another dog or another person ’cause what if your love runs out before you get to him? Man, I love that boy.
Some of you have become Dan NJ fans recently. I’ve been president of his fan club for a long time. Two years ago, I wrote about some advice he had given me back when we were roomies in Astoria, Queens. Excellent as the advice was, I extrapolated poorly from it and decided I needed to maintain a dog-shaped space in my house.
Meh.
I mean, if you set them end to end, you can fit so many dogs into 747 square feet, right? (Yes, this means I’ll probably foster again soon. It’s seemed like there’s one too few pit bulls in my house lately.)
NOTE: There remains a man(or woman!)-shaped space in my bed, for which I’m still recruiting. However, I don’t want to date to do it. I don’t want to email or evaluate prospects. I don’t want to set up dates, go on dates, or follow up after dates. I don’t want any of that. Somebody just come over and get in my bed, for Christ’s sake.
Sometimes I like to think I’m old. About five years ago when I got my first gray pube, I figured life was pretty much in the wrapping-up stage. And a year ago, meeting a cute boy ten years my junior made me start counting my liver spots.
But the fact is, saying it’s too late, I’m too old, is a racket I’ve been running since I was, like, 12. I think that’s when I decided I was too old to learn to ski.
It’s not too late, really for anything. My grandma started windsurfing when she was 58.
And I’m not actually old. If I start running that line of bullshit again, you have permission to tell me to STFU.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.