We've got a helluva light show here.
God, I hurt. My shoulders have been on fire, or more accurately, knotted up and spasming all day. Swim hurt, but help. Not even aleve touched it. I hate hormones.
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
We've got a helluva light show here.
God, I hurt. My shoulders have been on fire, or more accurately, knotted up and spasming all day. Swim hurt, but help. Not even aleve touched it. I hate hormones.
My attempt to reverse-engineer the awesome flatbread I ate at Consuela's brother's restaurant was not 100% successful, but it was still pretty delicious. Flatbread with chicken, arugula, goat cheese, and a blueberry reduction.
I was super hungry and impatient, so my blueberry reduction had a bit too much liquid in it.
Prince Stormageddon.
This gets my vote!
I was super hungry and impatient, so my blueberry reduction had a bit too much liquid in it.
As I discovered with the flatbread I made for lunch, too much liquid is contraindicated.
Oh, that sounds good. Reminds me of the tapas I had in Madrid that were a revelation: leeks and goat cheese, rolled in a leaf of phylo (or in a thin batter, I dunno) and fried, with a blueberry-vinagrette (which was not too sweet or vinegary) dipping sauce.
Honestly, that, the grilled porto sandwiches I've been raving about lately, the toasted onion focaccia with jamon iberico, openface (also, Madrid) and the grilled haloumi cheese with dipping spices and spreads in Cairns (that I have no clue about) rank among my favorite tastes.
Prince Stormageddon.
Dark Lord of all!
Since West Anaximander, this title will be need to be obtained by hand to hand combat. An aspirant and the Dark Lord will enter, a Dark Lord and no one leave.
I got my money on the Krushnic kid.
Worked too fervently today, did not send off the package for my sister. I hate time sensitive tasks that get more expensive as time goes on--I had the package in my car! The non-work time to grab it, label it, and take it to the mailroom before closing.
SHIT. Not small box to Fl by Friday. I can drive around tomorrow in the lunch break I never take when working from home and compare prices (hmm, can I weight it on my kitchen scale and prie it online?) -- mailing from work is great because a) multiple choices, one location b) corporate discount c) the guy has never asked me for shipping. Maybe they're docking my pay, maybe I'm lucky, charming, or incompetent.
I now expect Chris Evans to live in my building and be amused at me in the stairwell or hallway. If two movies say it, it's true, right?
As I discovered with the flatbread I made for lunch, too much liquid is contraindicated.
Especially not the molten fury of blueberries and balsamic vinegar.
have you seen the gender-swapped video for "Blurred Lines?" I have not yet watched this, but I assume NSFW.
I'm embarrassed how much I like that song. Even though the lyrics are sketchy (and, seriously, I can think of 20 things that rhyme with "hug me," and none of them are "fuck me" BECAUSE IT DOESN'T RHYME WITH "HUG ME" WHAT IS WRONG WITH ROBIN THICKE?).
Can anyone recommend a good, amateur-friendly Indian cookbook, particularly one that's vegetarian or has a big vegetarian section?