Spike's Bitches 33: Weeping, crawling, blaming everybody else
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Well, damn. Apparently 2006 is trying to go out with a bang or some shit. Just got an email that a guy we knew in college is dead. Dead! He was younger than us! No idea how he died, but he left behind a wife. WIFE! At like, 28, a widow!?!? Damn.
He was the first boy (or, person, actually!) I ever kissed.
I suddenly realize I need to go to class, and then I realized I haven't been in like, months, and I really have to go but I'm really scared to, etc...
I haven't had one in a while, but I used to always have dreams that I was in the halls in high school, but didn't know my schedule, and couldn't find what class I was supposed to be in next.
My big, big anxiety dreams are always about plays -- every time I finish a production, about 6 weeks later I'll have a dream that the play wasn't actually over, it was just on hiatus, and the first performance of the second run is in a few minutes.
Oddly, though I haven't been in a play in FOREVER, I've had these more recently--that I'm about to be in a play, or am on stage, and don't know any of the words.
meara, that sucks about your friend. How awful.
I'm rewatching Top Chef and really even more amazed that even when they are in the same room the resemblence between Ted and Ilan still holds up. I mean, you'd think that when you saw them together you'd realize that they don't resemble each other at all. But nope, they totally do.
That recipe looks pretty good. Thanks!
ION, my microwave is now officially dead.
Also, got my hair cut, with a stylist I hadn't seen before. I like the cut, mostly, but it's got that weird uneven look that it always gets when someone who doesn't understand curly hair cuts it.
Tomorrow, I've got to go buy some barrettes and headbands, since it's not long enough to put in a ponytail anymore, and I need some way to keep it out of my face while I'm studying.
Oh my, meara. That's awful. I'm sorry.
{{meara}}
sendong out the job ma~~~ and things are looking hopeful in Matt's direction.
Today I just finished makeing eggnog icecream ( Matt doesn't want to wait to eat it until it is set) and I am finishing my mom's present
Oh meara, I'm so sorry.
Much primo jobma to MM and Suzi. Contract-ma to CaBil. And work-ma that's prosperous to Beej, and a damn good job without killing hours and demanding assbosses for Matt.
Beej, if you're going with an uncooked eggnog recipe, use Egg Beaters or a similar egg substitute. I've made homemade eggnog on Christmas morning for decades. Until one year everybody, including the cat, who always had a small amount of Christmas eggnog in her saucer, got sick with salmonella. The commercial egg substitutes are pasteurized, which eliminates the salmonella risk of using whole "fresh" eggs, which may have sat around in too-warm storage areas for too long before being shelved.
My receipe:
Two quarts whole milk, 2 tsp vanilla extract, 1 tsp rum extract, 1/2 cup sugar (more or less to taste), half to two-thirds of a pint of egg beaters. Dump one quart of the milk and all the other ingredients into the blender and hit "high". Pour half into your serving bowl or pitcher, add the rest of the milk to the blender and blend again. Add to your serving container, and serve. Set the brandy and rum bottles on the sideboard so folks can spike their own. I put ground nutmeg in a pretty silver-topped pressed glass shaker alongside the booze, but to me, nutmeg is more important on Christmas morning than the spikeage.
Edited to put in the freakin' "eggs".
{{{meara}}}
Eggnog icecream sounds yummy.
Oh! The salon where I had my hair cut had a painting on the wall that, while I'm not positive, I'm almost certain was Samson and Delilah. Rather odd choice, I thought.
Rather odd choice, I thought.
"Let us cut your hair and strip you of your power!"
Winter storm. 100 mph gusts on the coast. 60+ in Portland. Power is ... unstable at best. I have FIRE. Oh and wine. Let it blow, let it blow, let it blow.
But let's not let a tree sway into the wall again. Cause that didn't seem good.
I'm sorry about your friend, meara.
I've been thinking how starting now a year ago, I lost so many people in my life. And some of them still don't make sense to me, a year later.
The salon where I had my hair cut had a painting on the wall that, while I'm not positive, I'm almost certain was Samson and Delilah. Rather odd choice, I thought.
But certainly funny. My stylist can have my strength if she wants, she's just that wonderful. I shall have pretty hair instead. And pretty hair is its own power.
The security on the wireless will randomly stop the page from loading in the middle of posts once the "number of questionable words exceed[s] the limit" or if there is a "prohibited word." So then i have to play "Up the post number in the address!" until I get past the naughty word. It's fun in a funny way.
Telling us this might be considered a dare, Gris...
