10. Donning of socks for the first time in ten days
9. Application of deodorant for the first time in ten days
8. Brushing of hair yep you know the rest
7. Lack of black raspberry ice cream cones
6. No nearby swimmable body of water, therefore
5. No need for beloved floaty
4. Lack of availability of shell-themed tchotchkes
3. People around me making verbs where there are none, i.e. "agendize," "cross-walk," instead of more acceptable speech patterns, i.e. "pass the sunscreen," "are there any more Cheetos," "top off your prosecco?"
2. No adorably snaggly-toothed nephews around
1. No sign of linguica anywhere
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Off My Chest
Hi reader, I'm back. I'll post eventually about the vacay highs (beach, oyster po' boy) and lows (kinda rainy, flight home canceled) but since I ate it this morning, it's fresh in my mind. What is the deal with Greek style yogurt? Is it or is it not the exact texture of wallpaper glue? Can anyone help me understand why anyone wants to eat this?
That is all.
That is all.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Oh mah gah. Medical mystery.
A few days before I went away I was giving myself a cheap-ass home pedi and watching Dr. Phil. The theme of the show was embarrassing medical issues you don't want to ask your doctor about. A woman came on who said her uterus had fallen out of her body, which caused the audience and the audience at home to gasp. One of the doctors on the panel said this condition was very common, prolapsed uterus. Nevertheless it was disturbing in the way that body parts ending up where they don't belong is disturbing. A hernia, also very common, is disturbing. Really, any organ poking its nose where it doesn't belong just isn't right. But a prolapsed uterus I understand anatomically speaking. All the reproductive lady parts are connected, so although wrong and bad, I comprehend how the uterus can end up saying hola through your hooha. But I do not understand fallen bladder, or cystocele in which the bladder protrudes through the vagina. I have looked at pictures of this condition and still don't get how this happens. Reader, can you weigh in here, or even better send me the plastic three-dimensional lady bottom used in science classes to illustrate? Thanks.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Still Away ...
But feast your eyes on this crazy mess, reader. Who needs health care when you've got a pod of cetaceans at your disposal?
Friday, July 25, 2008
Professional Critic, Vacation Edition: Day 5
I was pretty cranky in this post, which now makes me laugh. It is my most sincere hope that this is how you take these ranting posts, reader. And of course, Angelina was knocked up with twins. We knew those muumuus weren't fashion statements.
**
You Care, You Really Care!
posted 2/8/08
I almost threw my cellphone off the Bay Bridge tonight. My carrier is AT&T, formerly Cingular, but whatever you want to call it, the coverage is frightfully bad. I might as well be talking into a soup can. If you didn't know, San Francisco is a peninsula of seven square miles, which I drive through everyday. Tiny. I'm sure there's a mall somewhere in the world bigger than the city by the bay. So I totally fail to understand why there is even one dead spot within the city limits, but in fact there are too many to count, and I hit all of them, everyday. Which is beyond annoying to me, not to mention those I'm talking to. I was talking to The Mama tonight and over the course of ten minutes I dropped our call three times. Eventually I gave up--nothing I have to say is worth that kind of effort. "Fewest dropped calls in the network," my ass! The network of dead people whose loved ones forgot to cancel their plans, you bet.
It's not just me-- Consumer Reports doesn't have much good to say about AT&T. Would have been nice if I read this before I got a cellphone, but then I would have nothing to complain about, and that's no fun for a Professional Kvetcher. I was all hyped up to switch but I did some reading and discovered that it may be worth upgrading to a new phone before giving up. This phone is over two years old and in technology, that's like chiseling your grocery list onto a stone tablet.
But on the flip side I got home to a survey asking me about my most recent experience with my gynecologist, which I was able to complete online. I love participating in these kinds of surveys because I'm at least given the semblance of caring from my provider. Most of the time the services industry could give a shit about you knowing that they don't give a shit, one of the more alienating aspects of our consumer-driven culture. So I was able to praise my doctor, who I think is genuinely a good doctor, and not her office staff, who are so-so but really could be a whole lot better.
And thus the day reached its conclusion, but before I turn to my glass of wine: Angelina, stop being coy. If you're far enough along to wear a muumuu every fucking day, you can tell us you're knocked up. Really.
You Care, You Really Care!
posted 2/8/08
I almost threw my cellphone off the Bay Bridge tonight. My carrier is AT&T, formerly Cingular, but whatever you want to call it, the coverage is frightfully bad. I might as well be talking into a soup can. If you didn't know, San Francisco is a peninsula of seven square miles, which I drive through everyday. Tiny. I'm sure there's a mall somewhere in the world bigger than the city by the bay. So I totally fail to understand why there is even one dead spot within the city limits, but in fact there are too many to count, and I hit all of them, everyday. Which is beyond annoying to me, not to mention those I'm talking to. I was talking to The Mama tonight and over the course of ten minutes I dropped our call three times. Eventually I gave up--nothing I have to say is worth that kind of effort. "Fewest dropped calls in the network," my ass! The network of dead people whose loved ones forgot to cancel their plans, you bet.
It's not just me-- Consumer Reports doesn't have much good to say about AT&T. Would have been nice if I read this before I got a cellphone, but then I would have nothing to complain about, and that's no fun for a Professional Kvetcher. I was all hyped up to switch but I did some reading and discovered that it may be worth upgrading to a new phone before giving up. This phone is over two years old and in technology, that's like chiseling your grocery list onto a stone tablet.
But on the flip side I got home to a survey asking me about my most recent experience with my gynecologist, which I was able to complete online. I love participating in these kinds of surveys because I'm at least given the semblance of caring from my provider. Most of the time the services industry could give a shit about you knowing that they don't give a shit, one of the more alienating aspects of our consumer-driven culture. So I was able to praise my doctor, who I think is genuinely a good doctor, and not her office staff, who are so-so but really could be a whole lot better.
And thus the day reached its conclusion, but before I turn to my glass of wine: Angelina, stop being coy. If you're far enough along to wear a muumuu every fucking day, you can tell us you're knocked up. Really.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Professional Critic, Vacation Edition: Day 3
Not only does this story stick with people, albeit in unpleasant ways, it also gives credence to the idea that truth is definitely stranger than fiction.
**
Precious Moments
posted 8/28/07
It's been a while since I've posted and I'm sure that's a disappointment to my legions of reader. I hope this post makes up for it in some small way.
Today I stopped at Safeway to pick up some salsa and sour cream for my weekly dinner with The Mama. As I was walking through the produce aisle, something on the floor caught my eye. I looked down--it was some type of nude colored plastic object. A set of dismembered Barbie legs dropped by a child in the throes of a low blood sugar fit? No. I looked more closely. Oh my God. Is that what I think it is?
Readers, it was a butt plug--the sex toy designed with a flared end so that you can safely stick it up your ass without fear of an awkward ER visit at the end of the night. I was rattled as I stood in line at the checkout. Should I tell the cashier that there's a butt plug in the produce aisle? What do I say if she doesn't know what a butt plug is? Must I be the one to tell her?
I didn't tell her, so great was my desire to skulk off and enjoy a burrito. I just got in my car and drove away. But as I was driving, the question that was bound to emerge, did: how the hell did a butt plug end up in the produce aisle at Safeway? Did it fall out of someone's ass as they pored over the kiwis? That person must have been wearing a skirt and no underwear ... or no underwear and really loose fitting pants. Wouldn't you notice if a sex toy fell out of your butt in the grocery store? But if it did, would you stop, bend down, pick it up and toss it into your cart? What a dilemma. Would Mss Manners know how to handle such a delicate situation? Is this what is meant by the New Etiquette, since we no longer use finger bowls or wear mourning dress?
I did a quck scan of the book preview and there did not seem to be an entry on how to graciously retrieve your dirty sex toy from the grocery store floor. Maybe that will be addressed in the next edition.
But perhaps this somewhat jarring event is all right in line with the universe. As I was looking at the Good Vibes website to see if I could find a picture to illustrate aforementioned butt plug, I learned that August is Anal Sex Month. Who even knew there was such a thing? Our friend at Safeway. Enjoy!
Precious Moments
posted 8/28/07
It's been a while since I've posted and I'm sure that's a disappointment to my legions of reader. I hope this post makes up for it in some small way.
Today I stopped at Safeway to pick up some salsa and sour cream for my weekly dinner with The Mama. As I was walking through the produce aisle, something on the floor caught my eye. I looked down--it was some type of nude colored plastic object. A set of dismembered Barbie legs dropped by a child in the throes of a low blood sugar fit? No. I looked more closely. Oh my God. Is that what I think it is?
Readers, it was a butt plug--the sex toy designed with a flared end so that you can safely stick it up your ass without fear of an awkward ER visit at the end of the night. I was rattled as I stood in line at the checkout. Should I tell the cashier that there's a butt plug in the produce aisle? What do I say if she doesn't know what a butt plug is? Must I be the one to tell her?
I didn't tell her, so great was my desire to skulk off and enjoy a burrito. I just got in my car and drove away. But as I was driving, the question that was bound to emerge, did: how the hell did a butt plug end up in the produce aisle at Safeway? Did it fall out of someone's ass as they pored over the kiwis? That person must have been wearing a skirt and no underwear ... or no underwear and really loose fitting pants. Wouldn't you notice if a sex toy fell out of your butt in the grocery store? But if it did, would you stop, bend down, pick it up and toss it into your cart? What a dilemma. Would Mss Manners know how to handle such a delicate situation? Is this what is meant by the New Etiquette, since we no longer use finger bowls or wear mourning dress?
I did a quck scan of the book preview and there did not seem to be an entry on how to graciously retrieve your dirty sex toy from the grocery store floor. Maybe that will be addressed in the next edition.
But perhaps this somewhat jarring event is all right in line with the universe. As I was looking at the Good Vibes website to see if I could find a picture to illustrate aforementioned butt plug, I learned that August is Anal Sex Month. Who even knew there was such a thing? Our friend at Safeway. Enjoy!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Professional Critic, Vacation Edition: Day 2
This post spurred self-righteous science fiction geeks to come out of the woodwork and lambaste me for expressing my opinions on my own blog. I won't lie, it was fun. Plus, it generated a record number of comments. Eight. Don't laugh.
**
Why I Can't Appreciate Science Fiction
posted 3/28/07
One of the downfalls of being a Professional Critic is that I have a real problem with suspension of disbelief. My inability to suspend disbelief has made it impossible to appreciate the entire genres of fantasy and science fiction, and many episodes of "real life" dramas such as ER wherein helicopter rotors lop off the hands of nasty surgeons and in later episodes, crush said nasty surgeons to death.
Do you remember that? In TV jargon this is called "jumping the shark." If you're a child of the 70s as I am, you will no doubt remember the Happy Days episode in which the Fonz, for reasons I don't remember and were perhaps more related to the ratings than any plot device in which sharks would normally appear (though the show was set in Milwaukee, they were somehow in California) jumped a shark on water skis (again, strange. The Fonz was known for his manly motorcycle). The recent Grey's Anatomy where Meredith falls into icy water following a ferry crash, had no oxygen to her brain for like 45 minutes and yet awoke from her ordeal unscathed save for slightly lanker than usual hair, would be a good example of jumping the shark.
My problem with shark jumping is that instead of feeling dramatic suspense, I feel impatient that the character has not yet died. Due to the ludicrous nature of the plot turn, I have immediately ceased to care. It is the same with science fiction and fantasy. I never watched Star Trek of my own volition, in any of its iterations. Though I am vaguely aware of the characters: the pale robotic guy, the husky voiced ball bustin' captain, the weird looking big violent guy with the messed up looking face, and the dewey-eyed drip in the clingy catsuit, I think of them all as characters on the same show--an idea that strikes horror in the hearts of fans, who insist these shows are different from each other. Okay, if that makes you feel better, then sure. They're different.
Something happens to me when I hear a made up language or see a character wearing a stretchy pantsuit, shouting about their proton gun, or the Nembutal Universe. I think, this is ridiculous. Then I stop caring and wait for a violent end. Fantasy is just as bad, if not worse. Unicorns prancing through the sun dappled forest, giggling pointy-eared elves popping out from their little houses carved from the bases of gnarled old magical trees, maidens' heaving bosoms sproinging out of their corseted bodices. Where's the ornery village dragon when you need him?
I was forced to watch all eighty-seven Lord of the Rings movies with friends. You know who you are. I think you meant well. By the fourth hour of each of the movies, it was my most fervent wish that the evil sorcerer Gargamel kill all these earnest Muggles and feed them to his evil Vulcan Jabba the Hut before taking off for Tattooine in the Battlestar Galactica. Just please, let it be over already.
Why I Can't Appreciate Science Fiction
posted 3/28/07
One of the downfalls of being a Professional Critic is that I have a real problem with suspension of disbelief. My inability to suspend disbelief has made it impossible to appreciate the entire genres of fantasy and science fiction, and many episodes of "real life" dramas such as ER wherein helicopter rotors lop off the hands of nasty surgeons and in later episodes, crush said nasty surgeons to death.
Do you remember that? In TV jargon this is called "jumping the shark." If you're a child of the 70s as I am, you will no doubt remember the Happy Days episode in which the Fonz, for reasons I don't remember and were perhaps more related to the ratings than any plot device in which sharks would normally appear (though the show was set in Milwaukee, they were somehow in California) jumped a shark on water skis (again, strange. The Fonz was known for his manly motorcycle). The recent Grey's Anatomy where Meredith falls into icy water following a ferry crash, had no oxygen to her brain for like 45 minutes and yet awoke from her ordeal unscathed save for slightly lanker than usual hair, would be a good example of jumping the shark.
My problem with shark jumping is that instead of feeling dramatic suspense, I feel impatient that the character has not yet died. Due to the ludicrous nature of the plot turn, I have immediately ceased to care. It is the same with science fiction and fantasy. I never watched Star Trek of my own volition, in any of its iterations. Though I am vaguely aware of the characters: the pale robotic guy, the husky voiced ball bustin' captain, the weird looking big violent guy with the messed up looking face, and the dewey-eyed drip in the clingy catsuit, I think of them all as characters on the same show--an idea that strikes horror in the hearts of fans, who insist these shows are different from each other. Okay, if that makes you feel better, then sure. They're different.
Something happens to me when I hear a made up language or see a character wearing a stretchy pantsuit, shouting about their proton gun, or the Nembutal Universe. I think, this is ridiculous. Then I stop caring and wait for a violent end. Fantasy is just as bad, if not worse. Unicorns prancing through the sun dappled forest, giggling pointy-eared elves popping out from their little houses carved from the bases of gnarled old magical trees, maidens' heaving bosoms sproinging out of their corseted bodices. Where's the ornery village dragon when you need him?
I was forced to watch all eighty-seven Lord of the Rings movies with friends. You know who you are. I think you meant well. By the fourth hour of each of the movies, it was my most fervent wish that the evil sorcerer Gargamel kill all these earnest Muggles and feed them to his evil Vulcan Jabba the Hut before taking off for Tattooine in the Battlestar Galactica. Just please, let it be over already.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Professional Critic, Vacation Edition: Day 1
So right now I'm probably laying on the beach in Cape Cod. Or eating some fried oysters, or a black raspberry ice cream cone. But that doesn't mean that I'm not thinking about you, reader, and your legitimate need to procrastinate whatever it is that you should be doing right about now.
To that end, I'm going to rerun some PC favorites posts this week and when I get back regale you with gripes and complaints from the east coast.
***
Who Put The "R" in Vaginal?
posted 2/7/07
I normally don't answer my home phone because it is almost always a telemarketer. If it is someone who really knows who I am, they'll call my cell. But when the phone rang and rang the other night, I picked it up. A mistake-- that slight pause that screams, "The person on the other end does not know you. Hang up now." But before I could, a perky voice announced she was not selling anything but was conducting market research.
Didn't matter about what--I was in. Flunky of the advertising companies? I like to think not. I am constantly amazed that there are so many products out there that hold no appeal whatsoever to me or any of the people I know. Glade Plugs Ins. Lunchables. Scented garbage bags. Disposable toilet brushes. I know part of the problem is that we're not great American consumers, tending toward environmentalism, conservation, and simple living, not to mention being limited by the storage space offered by urban apartment dwelling (that's none, for those who don't know)--essentially antithetical to rampant consumerism resulting in purchase of flats of antibacterial toilet paper. But surely it must also be that people like us are not participating in these kinds of studies in big enough numbers. I have participated in many phone surveys, paid focus groups and have even worked for a research company, asking random digit dialed people questions like, "Not counting potatoes, how many servings of vegetables did you eat this week?"
So of course I was a little excited. Perky started by asking if I owned a DVD player connected to a TV player. I told her I did, figuring this was an electronics survey. Then she said, "The following questions I will ask you are of a personal nature. Please be assured that your answers are confidential and will be compiled with others in your demographic group." Wow, I thought, this survey is about porn! I wasn't sure how much help I could, since I have seen very little porn. Maybe this company was developing porn for people just like me, and I could be instrumental in helping shape better porn for the greater good. I would certainly try my best!
Then Perky started asking about personal lubricant. As her questions went on, she explained that KY was rolling out a new kind of lubricant, the name I have forgotten by now, whose claim to fame is its supposed ability to stay slippery for a long time. From her questions, it seems that KY is trying to shake their medicinal image and get a little more racy. More power to 'em, but this seems like a lost cause in the Bay Area, where you can walk into one of three Good Vibes or any store in the Castro and buy any kind of lube you can dream of and some that you never have.
But the most distracting part of this phonecall was that this very nice sounding woman could not pronounce "vaginal." Since this word popped up at least every minute or so, it was really hard to keep my focus on her questions. Sometimes it was "varge-inal." Sometimes "ver-ginal." When prepping the staff to roll out this new survey, did the supervisor never coach them on how to pronounce vaginal? Was I the only person who agreed to answer these questions, so her inability to pronounce vaginal never came up before? Couldn't Perky have put me on hold and asked the person in the cube next to her, "Psst--this woman is actually doing the survey--how do you pronounce that v word?"
Later that evening I had a full blown Women's Studies fit that a grown female was unfamiliar with the pronunciation of her own genitalia. Can you even conceive of a person of any gender unable to pronounce penile? Let's speak frankly--how many women (and men) have you encountered that don't know how to pronounce clitoris? It's maddening! Go now, ambassadors of my outrage. Speak to your family and friends of all genders and ages and make sure they know that there is no R in vaginal.
To that end, I'm going to rerun some PC favorites posts this week and when I get back regale you with gripes and complaints from the east coast.
Who Put The "R" in Vaginal?
posted 2/7/07
I normally don't answer my home phone because it is almost always a telemarketer. If it is someone who really knows who I am, they'll call my cell. But when the phone rang and rang the other night, I picked it up. A mistake-- that slight pause that screams, "The person on the other end does not know you. Hang up now." But before I could, a perky voice announced she was not selling anything but was conducting market research.
Didn't matter about what--I was in. Flunky of the advertising companies? I like to think not. I am constantly amazed that there are so many products out there that hold no appeal whatsoever to me or any of the people I know. Glade Plugs Ins. Lunchables. Scented garbage bags. Disposable toilet brushes. I know part of the problem is that we're not great American consumers, tending toward environmentalism, conservation, and simple living, not to mention being limited by the storage space offered by urban apartment dwelling (that's none, for those who don't know)--essentially antithetical to rampant consumerism resulting in purchase of flats of antibacterial toilet paper. But surely it must also be that people like us are not participating in these kinds of studies in big enough numbers. I have participated in many phone surveys, paid focus groups and have even worked for a research company, asking random digit dialed people questions like, "Not counting potatoes, how many servings of vegetables did you eat this week?"
So of course I was a little excited. Perky started by asking if I owned a DVD player connected to a TV player. I told her I did, figuring this was an electronics survey. Then she said, "The following questions I will ask you are of a personal nature. Please be assured that your answers are confidential and will be compiled with others in your demographic group." Wow, I thought, this survey is about porn! I wasn't sure how much help I could, since I have seen very little porn. Maybe this company was developing porn for people just like me, and I could be instrumental in helping shape better porn for the greater good. I would certainly try my best!
Then Perky started asking about personal lubricant. As her questions went on, she explained that KY was rolling out a new kind of lubricant, the name I have forgotten by now, whose claim to fame is its supposed ability to stay slippery for a long time. From her questions, it seems that KY is trying to shake their medicinal image and get a little more racy. More power to 'em, but this seems like a lost cause in the Bay Area, where you can walk into one of three Good Vibes or any store in the Castro and buy any kind of lube you can dream of and some that you never have.
But the most distracting part of this phonecall was that this very nice sounding woman could not pronounce "vaginal." Since this word popped up at least every minute or so, it was really hard to keep my focus on her questions. Sometimes it was "varge-inal." Sometimes "ver-ginal." When prepping the staff to roll out this new survey, did the supervisor never coach them on how to pronounce vaginal? Was I the only person who agreed to answer these questions, so her inability to pronounce vaginal never came up before? Couldn't Perky have put me on hold and asked the person in the cube next to her, "Psst--this woman is actually doing the survey--how do you pronounce that v word?"
Later that evening I had a full blown Women's Studies fit that a grown female was unfamiliar with the pronunciation of her own genitalia. Can you even conceive of a person of any gender unable to pronounce penile? Let's speak frankly--how many women (and men) have you encountered that don't know how to pronounce clitoris? It's maddening! Go now, ambassadors of my outrage. Speak to your family and friends of all genders and ages and make sure they know that there is no R in vaginal.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Heading Out
Reader, I'm leaving for Cape Cod today for some sun and sea and am running around like a California fire fighter trying to get everything done. I leave you with this clip from The Daily Show. Bye!
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Tuesday Night
Tonight I went with Monica to see Barbara Ehrenreich speak at a fundraiser for KPFA. She read from her new book This Land is Their Land and she never fails to provoke and entertain with her insightful zingers about what can no longer be called the class divide, but the class chasm in America.
While I was poking around interwebs looking for links for this book, I found this interview with Ehrenreich on Powells:
"... I've read now fifteen to twenty business advice books and "success in business" books, which often contain what seemed to me delusional and mystical kinds of views of the world. Generally, that you can control the world with your thoughts and your attitude. And they've got blurbs from CEOs on the backs. Books that advise you to accept your fate, and to concentrate on having a positive attitude no matter what, are mega-bestsellers ..."
Sound familiar? Yeah, it's Oprah, it's The Secret, it's basically every victim blaming stance disguised as self-empowerment book out there. House being foreclosed? In debt up to ears? All signs of negative thinking.
Lest you think I'm a total grumpus, I do recognize that outlook does have bearing on how you interact with the world. Check out this video highlighting Cami Walker's 29 Day Giving Challenge. Cami is a friend of Monica's and this project is a good reminder of the areas in your life where can effect change.
Countdown to vacation ... 3 days! Computer is staying at home so I won't be posting anything new, but I'll see if I can come up with something ...
While I was poking around interwebs looking for links for this book, I found this interview with Ehrenreich on Powells:
"... I've read now fifteen to twenty business advice books and "success in business" books, which often contain what seemed to me delusional and mystical kinds of views of the world. Generally, that you can control the world with your thoughts and your attitude. And they've got blurbs from CEOs on the backs. Books that advise you to accept your fate, and to concentrate on having a positive attitude no matter what, are mega-bestsellers ..."
Sound familiar? Yeah, it's Oprah, it's The Secret, it's basically every victim blaming stance disguised as self-empowerment book out there. House being foreclosed? In debt up to ears? All signs of negative thinking.
Lest you think I'm a total grumpus, I do recognize that outlook does have bearing on how you interact with the world. Check out this video highlighting Cami Walker's 29 Day Giving Challenge. Cami is a friend of Monica's and this project is a good reminder of the areas in your life where can effect change.
Countdown to vacation ... 3 days! Computer is staying at home so I won't be posting anything new, but I'll see if I can come up with something ...
Monday, July 14, 2008
Celebrity Trash Round-Up
This weekend I went camping with The Mama and that always means a few things: junk food, trashy magazines and beer. Junk food = Cheetos (classic, natch--no Flamin Hot for us), Twizzlers, Pringles and brownies. Beer was Coronitas, 7 ounce mini bottles for low-tolerance wusses like us, really perfect. And we still couldn't finish a 6 pack. Trashy magazines were In Touch, Life and Style and Star.
So! Now that I am fully up to speed let me update you on the hottest celebutrash. What you won't hear about is anyone I don't care about: Nick Cannon and Mariah Carey. Or people I don't even know or understand: anyone from High School Musical and Kim Kardashian
Big story #1 is already out of date. Angelina has already birthed her twins, Knox (ugh, like the gelatin) and Vivienne (like it).
Second big story is the Madonna - Guy - A-Rod triangle. First of all, A Rod appears to me a big homogay and not that good looking to boot, or maybe I just don't see the appeal. My take on this whole situation (because my opinion matters to Madonna), is that Madonna's giant ego, which causes her to adopt that psuedo British accent, needs someone like Guy to ground her and keep her from getting too big for her britches. I don't think A Rod can accomplish this and their collective egos could either cause much damage, or if correctly harnessed could provide the United States with a much needed alternative energy source. Madonna should stick with Guy. This infatuation with A Rod is flash in the pan.
In a side Madonna note, her estranged brother Christopher is writing a tell-all biography. Dishy.
Always lots of coverage on the latest Hollywood pregnancies and bebehs. Generally speaking, good for them, and aw, cute. I'll say this--buy them all the designer outfits you want J Lo, that won't change the fact that your twins look like their dad, but with the baby chub they don't resemble Skeletor quite as much. Though to be fair they do seem genuinely happy.
Lots of pictures of "lovebirds" Ellen and Portia. I like this. They get pictured with other hetero celeb couples and are no longer described as "openly lesbian" which is offensive. Portia is adorable and will be even more when she puts on a few pounds and loses the bobblehead.
Also lots of pics of Lindsay and Sam, who are "gal pals." Despite Sam giving Lindsay matching Cartier "Love" bracelets, they don't seem to be getting pegged as "lovebirds." Is it youth? That the relationship is new? Not sure, but stay tuned. I know you will.
Drew Barrymore and Justin Long broke up. The Mama had to explain to me who Justin Long was. So this doesn't quite pack an emotional punch, I have kind of warm feelings for Drew.
Britney's kids are supposedly more attached to the nanny than they are to her, which makes her sad.
Katie Holmes doesn't look very happy. Suri Cruise may or may not have functioning legs. It's hard to tell when she's only photographed being carried around by her parents.
Jessica Alba is stressing about losing her baby weight. Step on it girl, your baby is already a whole month old.
Tori Spelling lost all her baby weight in one month which doesn't change the fact that too much plastic surgery has made her face weirdly masklike and her boobs oddly puckered.
Happy Monday!
So! Now that I am fully up to speed let me update you on the hottest celebutrash. What you won't hear about is anyone I don't care about: Nick Cannon and Mariah Carey. Or people I don't even know or understand: anyone from High School Musical and Kim Kardashian
Big story #1 is already out of date. Angelina has already birthed her twins, Knox (ugh, like the gelatin) and Vivienne (like it).
Second big story is the Madonna - Guy - A-Rod triangle. First of all, A Rod appears to me a big homogay and not that good looking to boot, or maybe I just don't see the appeal. My take on this whole situation (because my opinion matters to Madonna), is that Madonna's giant ego, which causes her to adopt that psuedo British accent, needs someone like Guy to ground her and keep her from getting too big for her britches. I don't think A Rod can accomplish this and their collective egos could either cause much damage, or if correctly harnessed could provide the United States with a much needed alternative energy source. Madonna should stick with Guy. This infatuation with A Rod is flash in the pan.
In a side Madonna note, her estranged brother Christopher is writing a tell-all biography. Dishy.
Always lots of coverage on the latest Hollywood pregnancies and bebehs. Generally speaking, good for them, and aw, cute. I'll say this--buy them all the designer outfits you want J Lo, that won't change the fact that your twins look like their dad, but with the baby chub they don't resemble Skeletor quite as much. Though to be fair they do seem genuinely happy.
Lots of pictures of "lovebirds" Ellen and Portia. I like this. They get pictured with other hetero celeb couples and are no longer described as "openly lesbian" which is offensive. Portia is adorable and will be even more when she puts on a few pounds and loses the bobblehead.
Also lots of pics of Lindsay and Sam, who are "gal pals." Despite Sam giving Lindsay matching Cartier "Love" bracelets, they don't seem to be getting pegged as "lovebirds." Is it youth? That the relationship is new? Not sure, but stay tuned. I know you will.
Drew Barrymore and Justin Long broke up. The Mama had to explain to me who Justin Long was. So this doesn't quite pack an emotional punch, I have kind of warm feelings for Drew.
Britney's kids are supposedly more attached to the nanny than they are to her, which makes her sad.
Katie Holmes doesn't look very happy. Suri Cruise may or may not have functioning legs. It's hard to tell when she's only photographed being carried around by her parents.
Jessica Alba is stressing about losing her baby weight. Step on it girl, your baby is already a whole month old.
Tori Spelling lost all her baby weight in one month which doesn't change the fact that too much plastic surgery has made her face weirdly masklike and her boobs oddly puckered.
Happy Monday!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Purslane
I am lucky to know a handful of people that subscribe to CSAs and share their bounty with me. A few weeks back I got a bunch of purslane from urban farmers Stacey and Bernie, of beautiful roses fame.
Unsure what to do with the weedy looking veggie, I surfed interwebs and learned it can be eaten raw or cooked. So I chomped a bunch. Reader, raw it tasted just like it looked: lawn clippings, the likes of which would make any grazing ruminant happy. So I decided to blanch it to see if that would tame a bit of its weediness. For good measure I chopped and threw in a lemon cucumber I had bought on a whim at the farmer's market, just because it was so pretty. And as we all know, the whole point of farmer's markets is to get you to buy lots of vegetables that will molder in your fridge try new things. Since the purslane had a very lemony taste I thought it would all work together. (Turns out lemon cucumbers taste nothing like lemons.)
I washed the purslane, gave it a rough chop, then blanched it quickly. I mixed up an olive oil/lemon juice/minced garlic/salt/pepper dressing and tossed it all with some chunks of aforementioned lemon cucumber, which once chopped seems no different than any other cucumber. The verdict? Not awful, but not especially good.
Thinking that time might help the purslane pick up some of the dressing flavors I packed some to bring for lunch the next day. I don't know if it was the purslane or the lemon cucumber but something was emitting those long drooly slime strands like okra does. Reader gah. The word for this: mucilaginous . It's the purslane apparently. I finished it because I don't like to waste food but it was not my happiest culinary experience.
But! You haven't seen the last of me, purslane. Despite being a highly invasive weed, you're supposed to be some kind of nutritional powerhouse, packed with omega-3 fatty acids and antioxidants. Perhaps these recipes, prepared by someone who has a forking clue what they're doing, will be tastier.
Unsure what to do with the weedy looking veggie, I surfed interwebs and learned it can be eaten raw or cooked. So I chomped a bunch. Reader, raw it tasted just like it looked: lawn clippings, the likes of which would make any grazing ruminant happy. So I decided to blanch it to see if that would tame a bit of its weediness. For good measure I chopped and threw in a lemon cucumber I had bought on a whim at the farmer's market, just because it was so pretty. And as we all know, the whole point of farmer's markets is to
I washed the purslane, gave it a rough chop, then blanched it quickly. I mixed up an olive oil/lemon juice/minced garlic/salt/pepper dressing and tossed it all with some chunks of aforementioned lemon cucumber, which once chopped seems no different than any other cucumber. The verdict? Not awful, but not especially good.
Thinking that time might help the purslane pick up some of the dressing flavors I packed some to bring for lunch the next day. I don't know if it was the purslane or the lemon cucumber but something was emitting those long drooly slime strands like okra does. Reader gah. The word for this: mucilaginous . It's the purslane apparently. I finished it because I don't like to waste food but it was not my happiest culinary experience.
But! You haven't seen the last of me, purslane. Despite being a highly invasive weed, you're supposed to be some kind of nutritional powerhouse, packed with omega-3 fatty acids and antioxidants. Perhaps these recipes, prepared by someone who has a forking clue what they're doing, will be tastier.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Anise Biscotti, or Talking to Stoned Clerks at Whole Foods
I adore anise flavored baked goodies. Stella D'oro anisette toast, could eat them by the bushel. Which I know makes me an old Italian man. I accept this. Yet I despise anise flavored candy, like grody black licorice, because it is bitter and disgusting, and should not be called "candy," but "medicine." This I also accept.
What I cannot accept under any circumstances are the tooth-shattering flavorless monstrosities being peddled by places like Starbucks that serve no purpose other than shredding your gums or crumbing up your coffee. Do. Not. Want.
So in the DIY mood I've embraced as of late, I decided to make my own anise biscotti. Too many of the recipes out there just seemed overly fussy, too many ingredients. Who can be bothered with all that? Then I found this simple recipe on Cooks.com that seemed just the ticket: minimum number of ingredients, easy recipe.
I made a few changes, one out of preference and one out of necessity. I swapped whole wheat flour for two of the three cups, fearing a full three cups of wheat flour would really wreak whole-grain havoc with the delicate anise flavor. And maybe it did because I substituted two teaspoons of ground anise seed for the extract and the final result was not as anise-y as I would have liked. But definitely tasty and the texture was nice. The egg/milk wash gave it a delightful sheen and nice crunch of texture. You could easily eat these without dunking and not need to stop by the dentist on your way home for a veneer to cover your jagged tooth-stump.
But there's a whole other story about my attempt to purchase anise extract from Whole Foods, which they did not have.
Item of annoyance #1, the shelves are practically empty of baking extracts of any kind. There is no vanilla, one jar each of peppermint and orange extract. Does this a baking aisle make? I think not.
Item of annoyance #2, I had to walk all over the store to find someone to help me. This is not typical of this location, so I forgive.
But item of annoyance #3, the clerk tries to tell me that anise extract is a specialty item, so rare that they don't carry it. I'm pretty sure all large grocery stores carry anise extract so I am irritated that 1. he doesn't know this and 2. he's in charge of the baking aisle and he lets all the inventory run out? We proceed to have a long and I'm sure stoned-sounding conversation in which we discuss how to make your own anise extract and conclude that it probably involves anise seeds, alcohol and cheesecloth over the course of a few days. He advises me to look it up online, which is something I never would have thought to do on my own. I go about my merry way.
Boy, were we wrong. Anise extract is made from star anise and vodka, neither of which I had at home.
But a couple of days later just as he predicted I did find anise extract at a specialty foods store near me called Safeway. I'll make these guys again for sure.
What I cannot accept under any circumstances are the tooth-shattering flavorless monstrosities being peddled by places like Starbucks that serve no purpose other than shredding your gums or crumbing up your coffee. Do. Not. Want.
So in the DIY mood I've embraced as of late, I decided to make my own anise biscotti. Too many of the recipes out there just seemed overly fussy, too many ingredients. Who can be bothered with all that? Then I found this simple recipe on Cooks.com that seemed just the ticket: minimum number of ingredients, easy recipe.
I made a few changes, one out of preference and one out of necessity. I swapped whole wheat flour for two of the three cups, fearing a full three cups of wheat flour would really wreak whole-grain havoc with the delicate anise flavor. And maybe it did because I substituted two teaspoons of ground anise seed for the extract and the final result was not as anise-y as I would have liked. But definitely tasty and the texture was nice. The egg/milk wash gave it a delightful sheen and nice crunch of texture. You could easily eat these without dunking and not need to stop by the dentist on your way home for a veneer to cover your jagged tooth-stump.
But there's a whole other story about my attempt to purchase anise extract from Whole Foods, which they did not have.
Item of annoyance #1, the shelves are practically empty of baking extracts of any kind. There is no vanilla, one jar each of peppermint and orange extract. Does this a baking aisle make? I think not.
Item of annoyance #2, I had to walk all over the store to find someone to help me. This is not typical of this location, so I forgive.
But item of annoyance #3, the clerk tries to tell me that anise extract is a specialty item, so rare that they don't carry it. I'm pretty sure all large grocery stores carry anise extract so I am irritated that 1. he doesn't know this and 2. he's in charge of the baking aisle and he lets all the inventory run out? We proceed to have a long and I'm sure stoned-sounding conversation in which we discuss how to make your own anise extract and conclude that it probably involves anise seeds, alcohol and cheesecloth over the course of a few days. He advises me to look it up online, which is something I never would have thought to do on my own. I go about my merry way.
Boy, were we wrong. Anise extract is made from star anise and vodka, neither of which I had at home.
But a couple of days later just as he predicted I did find anise extract at a specialty foods store near me called Safeway. I'll make these guys again for sure.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Professional Critic Blows a Gasket
Reader, wake me. I'm having a nightmare. The twitching, flailing kind, featuring big pharma, dollar signs twinkling in their eyes and agribusiness lobbying for increased corn subsidies, steamrolling over sick kids.
Sadly, this is reality. I read in the NY Times today that the American Academy of Pediatrics is recommending putting children as young as eight on cholesterol-lowering statin drugs. My disbelief was shared by many, as the comments piled up along these lines:
1. This is insane.
2. These drugs aren't even safe for adults
3. There is no evidence that these drugs actually do anything for most people: healthy men, women or people over 70
4. Why aren't we focusing on the real problems: we're drowning in processed food, high fructose corn syrup, we cut "non-essential" school services like PE, and don't subsidize healthy food and health care for all people
5. Are you you kidding me?
Even doctors agreed. From today's Time's article:
But will the backlash get us to the conversations that need to be had? I flashed back to a clip I heard on NPR the other morning, about a school in France battling obesity by championing fresh, local, cooked (as opposed to frozen microwaved) meals prepared by a chef. Does this not make way more sense that allowing fast food in schools then putting all those now obese and diabetic kids on statins? I mean. COME. ON. PEOPLE.
Sadly, this is reality. I read in the NY Times today that the American Academy of Pediatrics is recommending putting children as young as eight on cholesterol-lowering statin drugs. My disbelief was shared by many, as the comments piled up along these lines:
1. This is insane.
2. These drugs aren't even safe for adults
3. There is no evidence that these drugs actually do anything for most people: healthy men, women or people over 70
4. Why aren't we focusing on the real problems: we're drowning in processed food, high fructose corn syrup, we cut "non-essential" school services like PE, and don't subsidize healthy food and health care for all people
5. Are you you kidding me?
Even doctors agreed. From today's Time's article:
“To be frank, I’m embarrassed for the A.A.P. today,” said Dr. Lawrence Rosen of Hackensack University Medical Center in New Jersey, vice chairman of an academy panel on traditional and alternative medicine. He added: “Treatment with medications in the absence of any clear data? I hope they’re ready for the public backlash.”
But will the backlash get us to the conversations that need to be had? I flashed back to a clip I heard on NPR the other morning, about a school in France battling obesity by championing fresh, local, cooked (as opposed to frozen microwaved) meals prepared by a chef. Does this not make way more sense that allowing fast food in schools then putting all those now obese and diabetic kids on statins? I mean. COME. ON. PEOPLE.
Monday, July 07, 2008
The Bitter Pill of Monday After a Three Day Weekend
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Tomato Thursday
Tomatoes are starting to come into the farmer's markets and not a moment too soon. Between the cardboard tasting off season numbers from God knows where and the salmonella tainted variety, also from God knows where, I've been more than happy to skip tomatoes altogether. But what is more tasty or evocative of summer than a juicy, meaty tomato--especially when layered with basil leaves, fresh mozzarella and drizzled with olive oil for a delicious caprese salad, with lots of juice to mop up with crusty bread?
love you!
As the FDA attempts to figure out where the hell these tomatoes originated, or if was even tomatoes that made people ill, you might be interested to hear that mandatory county of origin labeling, or COOL, is quite controversial. You'll be shocked to hear that on the nay side of the argument is agribusiness and those in debt to their donations. Gasp. On the pro side of the argument is everyone else, as far as I can tell. This pro labeling organization has lots of great info on their site about this issue, but at the heart of the matter is this: consumers want to know where their food is coming from and what's in it. Radical.
love you!
As the FDA attempts to figure out where the hell these tomatoes originated, or if was even tomatoes that made people ill, you might be interested to hear that mandatory county of origin labeling, or COOL, is quite controversial. You'll be shocked to hear that on the nay side of the argument is agribusiness and those in debt to their donations. Gasp. On the pro side of the argument is everyone else, as far as I can tell. This pro labeling organization has lots of great info on their site about this issue, but at the heart of the matter is this: consumers want to know where their food is coming from and what's in it. Radical.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
Women's Wear Wednesday
I have always had a fondness for blue short sleeve button-down shirts. Not sure why, maybe something about it appeals to me in a geeky pencil protector way.
For years I rocked the perfect short sleeve blue button down shirt from Old Navy, which because I loved it so much ended up full of holes. I can't bring myself to get rid of it yet but it really is only marginally wearable for chores like house painting or car washing. You know if I'm saying that than any other normal person would have relegated it to the rag bin years earlier.
Then I bought a pull over blue cotton shirt sleeve shirt that buttoned about halfway from Muji in London. Unfortunately it shrunk down to a nubbin in the wash, not before becoming pit-stained, so that actually hit the garbage. I would have used it for a dust rag, but since I don't dust, I have no need for such an item. I was very sad to see that shirt go and thus there was a big void where a blue short sleeved button down shirt should have been.
Hence I was as pleased as punch when I found my new love at Thrift Town last week: a short sleeve blue button down shirt. It's nothing special really, although the button pattern is super cute, but I just love this shirt. And the best part? $2.99. Oh hell yeah.
Things took a slightly less happy turn last week. Started out okay: I found a fetching wrap dress at Marshall's. It's comfortable, flowy in a pretty blue and brown interlocking circle pattern. The price was right at $19.99 but I had an unpleasant moment in the dressing room, with its requisite unflattering yellowish light, where I was forced to confront all my lumps and bumps. That jersey fabric is so unforgiving. Sure I want to love and accept my body as it is and all that shizz but I just cannot, CANNOT leave the house looking like that. Now, will I, in a few weeks, be gracing the beaches of Cape Cod in a bikini, all my pale flab on display? Yes, I will. But that's different, for some reason I can't articulate.
So I needed a constricting undergarment that would harness my muffin top and trunk junk. I already own a bra/slip combo which would be perfect except it hikes itself up constantly, encircling my waist like a belt, thus defeating its purpose. Short of slathering my thighs in Liquid Nails before getting dressed, I can't figure out a way to make the slip stay put so I had to consider the modern version of the girdle, Spanx.
Mama had told me that Target carried Spanx-like "shapers," so when we went together I checked them out. Do want to laugh? They're called Assets, but they should really be called Asses, as in tame your giant lumpy one. Comfortable they are not but they do what they say, smooth out the hills and mounds until the landscape is acceptably smooth. I suppose I could go for the ultra mega hold but I do like to breathe and occasionally go to the bathroom and I can't envision any of those activities occurring in anything tighter.
I'm thinking this purchase was a milestone of middle age. I hearkened back to rooting through my mom's underwear drawer as a teen looking for some clean undies because I had none, and being absolutely horrified/mystified by the strangely paneled undergarments. Now of course they make perfect sense, which is how I know I'm getting old. I really wanted to call her then, remembering my snotty adolescent behavior, and tell her, Mom, sorry I was such a damn brat. You get the last laugh cause I'm buying a girdle.
For years I rocked the perfect short sleeve blue button down shirt from Old Navy, which because I loved it so much ended up full of holes. I can't bring myself to get rid of it yet but it really is only marginally wearable for chores like house painting or car washing. You know if I'm saying that than any other normal person would have relegated it to the rag bin years earlier.
Then I bought a pull over blue cotton shirt sleeve shirt that buttoned about halfway from Muji in London. Unfortunately it shrunk down to a nubbin in the wash, not before becoming pit-stained, so that actually hit the garbage. I would have used it for a dust rag, but since I don't dust, I have no need for such an item. I was very sad to see that shirt go and thus there was a big void where a blue short sleeved button down shirt should have been.
Hence I was as pleased as punch when I found my new love at Thrift Town last week: a short sleeve blue button down shirt. It's nothing special really, although the button pattern is super cute, but I just love this shirt. And the best part? $2.99. Oh hell yeah.
Things took a slightly less happy turn last week. Started out okay: I found a fetching wrap dress at Marshall's. It's comfortable, flowy in a pretty blue and brown interlocking circle pattern. The price was right at $19.99 but I had an unpleasant moment in the dressing room, with its requisite unflattering yellowish light, where I was forced to confront all my lumps and bumps. That jersey fabric is so unforgiving. Sure I want to love and accept my body as it is and all that shizz but I just cannot, CANNOT leave the house looking like that. Now, will I, in a few weeks, be gracing the beaches of Cape Cod in a bikini, all my pale flab on display? Yes, I will. But that's different, for some reason I can't articulate.
So I needed a constricting undergarment that would harness my muffin top and trunk junk. I already own a bra/slip combo which would be perfect except it hikes itself up constantly, encircling my waist like a belt, thus defeating its purpose. Short of slathering my thighs in Liquid Nails before getting dressed, I can't figure out a way to make the slip stay put so I had to consider the modern version of the girdle, Spanx.
Mama had told me that Target carried Spanx-like "shapers," so when we went together I checked them out. Do want to laugh? They're called Assets, but they should really be called Asses, as in tame your giant lumpy one. Comfortable they are not but they do what they say, smooth out the hills and mounds until the landscape is acceptably smooth. I suppose I could go for the ultra mega hold but I do like to breathe and occasionally go to the bathroom and I can't envision any of those activities occurring in anything tighter.
I'm thinking this purchase was a milestone of middle age. I hearkened back to rooting through my mom's underwear drawer as a teen looking for some clean undies because I had none, and being absolutely horrified/mystified by the strangely paneled undergarments. Now of course they make perfect sense, which is how I know I'm getting old. I really wanted to call her then, remembering my snotty adolescent behavior, and tell her, Mom, sorry I was such a damn brat. You get the last laugh cause I'm buying a girdle.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Tips n Tricks Tuesday
1. Last week I almost severed my own arm trying to stab apart a solid block of brown sugar with a butter knife. Cursing my own laziness for failing to properly seal up the box, I rummaged around in the cabinet and found another box of brown sugar which also resembled a brick. Grr. But luckily I found this little item at Sur La Table for $2.99. The directions are simple--soak for 15 minutes, dry off, then place in an airtight container with the sugar. In a couple of days my brown sugar was back to its soft crumbly glory and baking was safe again. I've since read that you could also use a sliced apple, but if you're buying local and seasonal, then who has apples now, anyway?
2. When you live alone as I do, you think about things like, upon which piece of furniture could I perform the Heimlich Maneuver should the need arise? If I die at home will my body be found before my cats start to devour me? Also: how am I going to open pickle jars when I'm 80 if I can barely do it now? With these. My sister gave me a package of these grippy things, swearing by them and by God she was right. No more whacking on the counter, running under hot water, willing a body builder to walk through the front door--simply not necessary. These grips make you the Incredible Hulk.
3. In these belt-tightening times, how can I possibly justify buying this $10 rotisserie chicken from Whole Foods? It helps if you're in the middle of a heat wave as we were last week and the idea of any movement at all, let alone turning on the oven, is just abhorrent. But just really use the heck out of it, no waste at all. That means chicken the first night--with sides or just pulled off by the fistful depending how hungry you are. Then tear up bits of leftover meat for chicken salad. Give the weird parts to the cats, who will be appreciative. Then chuck the carcass and skin into a pot, cover with water and boil. In less than an hour you'll have glorious chicken broth. Pour it through a fine sieve, then freeze in 1-2 cup Tupperwares. This morning I defrosted a brothsicle in a pan, then cooked some brown rice in it. It adds wonderful flavor and depth. I'm eating a bowl of brothy rice with white beans and a sprinkling of feta and it's delish. You could also use it to cook greens, the flavor and fat adds nummy richness or as a soup base. Or you could pour some in your cats wet food for extra liquid and feline happiness. If you're feeling poorly, you could just sip it like tea, though you may want to skim the fat off first.
4. I love my pop open laundry basket. It's perfect for low-storage living because when it's not being used, it flattens completely to slide into a skinny slice of closet space. Unless of course the cats are playing with it, which I try not to do since their favorite game is for one of them to get in it, then they attack each other through the mesh. This is also their favorite shower curtain game, which is why I'll be buying cheap Ikea shower curtains until they're old and feeble. By the way, my laundry basket was $1 at Walgreen's--the website says 2 for $5 but go to your local store and check it out.
5. Battling kitten poop odors? Me, too. Unfortunately I haven't yet found a product or device that can contain the eye watering stench emanating from my cats asses. Tips welcome.
2. When you live alone as I do, you think about things like, upon which piece of furniture could I perform the Heimlich Maneuver should the need arise? If I die at home will my body be found before my cats start to devour me? Also: how am I going to open pickle jars when I'm 80 if I can barely do it now? With these. My sister gave me a package of these grippy things, swearing by them and by God she was right. No more whacking on the counter, running under hot water, willing a body builder to walk through the front door--simply not necessary. These grips make you the Incredible Hulk.
3. In these belt-tightening times, how can I possibly justify buying this $10 rotisserie chicken from Whole Foods? It helps if you're in the middle of a heat wave as we were last week and the idea of any movement at all, let alone turning on the oven, is just abhorrent. But just really use the heck out of it, no waste at all. That means chicken the first night--with sides or just pulled off by the fistful depending how hungry you are. Then tear up bits of leftover meat for chicken salad. Give the weird parts to the cats, who will be appreciative. Then chuck the carcass and skin into a pot, cover with water and boil. In less than an hour you'll have glorious chicken broth. Pour it through a fine sieve, then freeze in 1-2 cup Tupperwares. This morning I defrosted a brothsicle in a pan, then cooked some brown rice in it. It adds wonderful flavor and depth. I'm eating a bowl of brothy rice with white beans and a sprinkling of feta and it's delish. You could also use it to cook greens, the flavor and fat adds nummy richness or as a soup base. Or you could pour some in your cats wet food for extra liquid and feline happiness. If you're feeling poorly, you could just sip it like tea, though you may want to skim the fat off first.
4. I love my pop open laundry basket. It's perfect for low-storage living because when it's not being used, it flattens completely to slide into a skinny slice of closet space. Unless of course the cats are playing with it, which I try not to do since their favorite game is for one of them to get in it, then they attack each other through the mesh. This is also their favorite shower curtain game, which is why I'll be buying cheap Ikea shower curtains until they're old and feeble. By the way, my laundry basket was $1 at Walgreen's--the website says 2 for $5 but go to your local store and check it out.
5. Battling kitten poop odors? Me, too. Unfortunately I haven't yet found a product or device that can contain the eye watering stench emanating from my cats asses. Tips welcome.
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