All things considered, though, I actually was quite lucky. Aside from a plethora of destroyed tiles
 |
| And no damaged cars either... talk about fortunate. |
Enough of the morose, though.
Monday, November 12, 2012
A Very Sandy Halloween
This post is extremely late, so sorry for that. I meant to write it closer to Halloween proper, but with Frankenstorm Sandy knocking out my Internet service all the way into the second week of November, that wasn't going to happen. Instead, I did quite a lot of reading - J.R.R. Tolkien became my bedfellow for about 4 days.
All things considered, though, I actually was quite lucky. Aside from a plethora of destroyed tiles
there wasn't much else that was damaged in the surrounding areas (minus maybe some downed lines). Driving to and from work was much more of an eye opener. I could get a picture while behind the wheel, but there were full-grown trees, ripped up from the root, lying against porches. I got away with a few days power (and a freezer full of luke-warm water), but that was the worst of it.
Enough of the morose, though.
All things considered, though, I actually was quite lucky. Aside from a plethora of destroyed tiles
Enough of the morose, though.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Cake! (Or Death)
Holy fricker-fracker. I'm old.
Well. Jersey resident.
To celebrate the day, I decided to share the wealth in the only manner I knew how - by baking. Out of the goodness of my heart, I decided to share the secrets of my nom-mery with all my faithful readers.
Hah. But, really, before you start, you need to have a cake (mine was 9x13, but it will of course vary with the number of bombs you want to make). It can be from scratch, from a box mix, whatever. I've done both, and they all turned out great. The recipe I used was a tweaked chocolate-coffee cake, but I've mixed and matched before. It's all about personal preference.
While the cake is baking, you might consider draining the cherries and patting them to dry
It's not really necessary, but it does make wrapping them a little easier.
Step two. Get "glue". What this means is, you'll need a sticky substance to keep the balls together. Most recipes call for frosting, but I used marshmallow fluff, which is lower fat than frosting. Some people use cream cheese, some use peanut butter, you get the idea. Again - mix and match. My sister suggested red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting - sounds divine, right?
This is important - wait for your cake to cool completely! If you don't, and you try to mix in the glue, you'll just get a giant, goopy mess.
Cut up your cake, put it in a large bowl, and mash it around with enough of your glue so that it's a soft, not-too-sticky, but not dry mush:
Step three: forming the bombs. This step is best accomplished with a melon scoop or a cookie scoop, but a spherical tablespoon works just as well. Scoop up some of your mixture (not too much), take a spherical teaspoon, and push the rounded side into the scoop so that you get a little chamber for the cherry:
See all that excess stuff around the side? You're going to push it back to the center, covering up the cherry, and making a nice ball around it:
Again, what's nice about having a scooper is that you can just pop it out of the spoon, without messing up the form of the ball. Once you have all your cherries covered, set them aside in the freezer for about a half an hour, just so they are a little more solid for the next step.
Step four: coating. For some reason, I'm completely incompetent when it comes to melting chocolate, so I'm not going to explain how I do it. So... have some pictures of glossy chocolate instead:
Coat the entire ball in chocolate, and set it down in the fridge to harden on a sheet of wax paper.
And, voila!
Keep in mind, don't do this on a busy day. Not that they're hard to make, but it does take some patience, since you're making one ball at a time. Have friends over, and make them help you :P
Feel free to get creative with it. An alternative recipe that I have made used brandied cherries (bake the cherries at the lowest oven setting for 15 minutes just to evaporate all the juice, then let them soak in brandy overnight. A friend of mine taught me this trick, and in his honor, I call these babies Dragon Eggs.) The following are the ingredients that I used, and which yield maybe 3 dozen cherry bombs:
Happy baking!
Until the next.
Well. Jersey resident.
To celebrate the day, I decided to share the wealth in the only manner I knew how - by baking. Out of the goodness of my heart, I decided to share the secrets of my nom-mery with all my faithful readers.
So today's super easy, and yet amazingly delicious recipe is: Cherry Bombs.
So what exactly are Cherry Bombs? Most people call them cake balls, but the difference is that I place a stemmed Maraschino cherry in the center of mine, both for presentation, and to give it a little something extra. I made a batch for my area, put them in the mail room at about 8 AM, and they had all vanished before noon. So how do we make these treats?
Step one. Make a cake.
Hah. But, really, before you start, you need to have a cake (mine was 9x13, but it will of course vary with the number of bombs you want to make). It can be from scratch, from a box mix, whatever. I've done both, and they all turned out great. The recipe I used was a tweaked chocolate-coffee cake, but I've mixed and matched before. It's all about personal preference.
While the cake is baking, you might consider draining the cherries and patting them to dry
It's not really necessary, but it does make wrapping them a little easier.
Step two. Get "glue". What this means is, you'll need a sticky substance to keep the balls together. Most recipes call for frosting, but I used marshmallow fluff, which is lower fat than frosting. Some people use cream cheese, some use peanut butter, you get the idea. Again - mix and match. My sister suggested red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting - sounds divine, right?
This is important - wait for your cake to cool completely! If you don't, and you try to mix in the glue, you'll just get a giant, goopy mess.
Cut up your cake, put it in a large bowl, and mash it around with enough of your glue so that it's a soft, not-too-sticky, but not dry mush:
Step three: forming the bombs. This step is best accomplished with a melon scoop or a cookie scoop, but a spherical tablespoon works just as well. Scoop up some of your mixture (not too much), take a spherical teaspoon, and push the rounded side into the scoop so that you get a little chamber for the cherry:
See all that excess stuff around the side? You're going to push it back to the center, covering up the cherry, and making a nice ball around it:
Again, what's nice about having a scooper is that you can just pop it out of the spoon, without messing up the form of the ball. Once you have all your cherries covered, set them aside in the freezer for about a half an hour, just so they are a little more solid for the next step.
Step four: coating. For some reason, I'm completely incompetent when it comes to melting chocolate, so I'm not going to explain how I do it. So... have some pictures of glossy chocolate instead:
Coat the entire ball in chocolate, and set it down in the fridge to harden on a sheet of wax paper.
And, voila!
Keep in mind, don't do this on a busy day. Not that they're hard to make, but it does take some patience, since you're making one ball at a time. Have friends over, and make them help you :P
Feel free to get creative with it. An alternative recipe that I have made used brandied cherries (bake the cherries at the lowest oven setting for 15 minutes just to evaporate all the juice, then let them soak in brandy overnight. A friend of mine taught me this trick, and in his honor, I call these babies Dragon Eggs.) The following are the ingredients that I used, and which yield maybe 3 dozen cherry bombs:
- 1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour (I actually used 1 1/2 cup wheat flour)
- 1 cup white sugar (I cut down on the original recipe because the marshmallow fluff makes it super sweet)
- 3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
- 2 teaspoons baking soda
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 2 eggs
- 1 cup strong brewed coffee
- 1 cup buttermilk
- 1/2 cup vegetable oil
- 7 1/2 oz Marshmallow Fluff
- 10 oz jar of Maraschino cherries (with stems!)
- 6 oz bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips
Happy baking!
Until the next.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Turf Wars
This may or may not come as a shock, but I grew up in a pretty typical suburban neighborhood, and as normal as it was, with it came all the typical oddities of living in close quarters. I.e., having neighbors like the rubberneckers, the newlyweds, the ornery old man, and the guy obsessed with caring for his lawn.
This tale is about that last guy.
This man owns a large riding lawnmower with which to mow his less-than-1/3-acre yard. And when I say large, I don't mean:
I mean:
In his defense, he does own a landscaping business. This, however, does not excuse the fact that he typically mows the lawn sometimes up to 3 times a day with his giant, rumbling machine of doom. (And as an aside - for those not acquainted with lawn care - this is actually really bad for the grass.)
Now, I obviously am no longer affected by this, though it unnerves my father to no end, mostly because it's our next-door-neighbor, and being an older, quieter man, the Lai Patriach doesn't much care for the noise of thunderous engines during meals. In fact, I wouldn't have given the Grass Overlord a passing thought, if the following hadn't happened.
On a ledge near the front door, I spied a wad of dollar bills, just sitting out in the open. My parents are usually good about leaving money out in the open, so of course, I had to inquire. When I brought it up, my dad kind of laughed, which is never a comforting response to a situation about money.
Like I mentioned before, my dad is getting on in years and needs help with outdoor chores. This summer, he had tried to hire someone to mow the lawn for them.
This is where things get weird.
When the chap tried to perform the task with which he'd been given, Captain John Deere began berating him, telling him that he was DOING IT WRONG. Now, I wasn't present for this, and only have my father's word to go on, but apparently Don Weed-o Corleone was so vehement that the hired hand eventually left, without taking his pay.
In my sad, romantic mind, I sincerely hope that showdown went something like this:
Or even this:
But, no. It was probably just a sad, overly-bronzed, slightly overweight man, staring down some hapless guy.
Which brings me to my real point: What the eff? Yeah, we all have our passions in life, and we all have our fortes. Some of us tend to be nagging when it comes to seeing others try to reach the same echelon of greatness we think we've established.
But sweet holy fricker fracker. Have we become so desperately bored with life that these are the kinds of things we stoop to fight over?
Until the next.
This tale is about that last guy.
This man owns a large riding lawnmower with which to mow his less-than-1/3-acre yard. And when I say large, I don't mean:
 |
| Photo via CentralParkNYC.org |
Now, I obviously am no longer affected by this, though it unnerves my father to no end, mostly because it's our next-door-neighbor, and being an older, quieter man, the Lai Patriach doesn't much care for the noise of thunderous engines during meals. In fact, I wouldn't have given the Grass Overlord a passing thought, if the following hadn't happened.
On a ledge near the front door, I spied a wad of dollar bills, just sitting out in the open. My parents are usually good about leaving money out in the open, so of course, I had to inquire. When I brought it up, my dad kind of laughed, which is never a comforting response to a situation about money.
Like I mentioned before, my dad is getting on in years and needs help with outdoor chores. This summer, he had tried to hire someone to mow the lawn for them.
This is where things get weird.
When the chap tried to perform the task with which he'd been given, Captain John Deere began berating him, telling him that he was DOING IT WRONG. Now, I wasn't present for this, and only have my father's word to go on, but apparently Don Weed-o Corleone was so vehement that the hired hand eventually left, without taking his pay.
In my sad, romantic mind, I sincerely hope that showdown went something like this:
 |
| Photo via Hemmings Daily |
Which brings me to my real point: What the eff? Yeah, we all have our passions in life, and we all have our fortes. Some of us tend to be nagging when it comes to seeing others try to reach the same echelon of greatness we think we've established.
But sweet holy fricker fracker. Have we become so desperately bored with life that these are the kinds of things we stoop to fight over?
Until the next.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Proof that I may be too easy to impress
Dear Cashier Man from ShopRite,
Since my shopping trips are usually pretty small, I'm more of a self-checkout girl. The other week, I really needed to stock up, so I thought I'd give myself a tiny break and go through the manned lines instead. A quick scan showed that your line was the most empty.
The first thing I noticed was your piano keyboard belt straight out of a 90s Hot Topic, followed by your bed-head mop and your emo kid glasses. The next thing I noticed was the woman in front of me in line, who was trying to hold some kind of conversation with you, of which, you were having none.
Yeah, I kind of thought you were a prick for snubbing her, but you were probably annoyed that she had about a zillion items and was attempting to bag a grand total of zero of them. But, you should have been a little sensitive to the fact that she was like 70 years fragile and just trying to be social.
After she finished up, I started packing my own groceries, lest the residual fiery rays of cashier-angst be rained down upon me. I was into my second to last bag, and that's when you surprised me. As you passed a box of graham crackers down the belt, you actually spoke to me.
Truth be told, I was impressed that you noticed (and glad that I wasn't purchasing something else like tampons). As I finished packing, you even thanked me for bagging my groceries, and then (sort of) told off the impatient guy behind me for stepping up to the register when it was clear that I still needed to pay.
It is possible that you were trying to impress me, since, now that I think on it, I was dressed every bit the skater punk like you. Or maybe you were just grateful that I took the time to load my own bags. Or, you could just be super observant. Regardless, you actually had the notion to say something to me.
I was walking down the shore at Raritan Bay with Dillon the other weekend, when I randomly decided to draw a huge "Hello :)" in the sand. We walked to the other end of the beach, putzed around for a bit, and then came back. On the return stroll, just as we were coming back on my sign, we passed by a random gent who glanced down at the message, smiled, and walked on. I was insufferably happy afterwards, partly because I put a grin on a complete stranger's face, but also because he actually looked at it instead of ignoring or missing it.
There, and in your line, for the briefest of moments, there was some kind of human connection, and while it probably didn't mean much, it made life that much more OK in my book.
Until the next.
Since my shopping trips are usually pretty small, I'm more of a self-checkout girl. The other week, I really needed to stock up, so I thought I'd give myself a tiny break and go through the manned lines instead. A quick scan showed that your line was the most empty.
The first thing I noticed was your piano keyboard belt straight out of a 90s Hot Topic, followed by your bed-head mop and your emo kid glasses. The next thing I noticed was the woman in front of me in line, who was trying to hold some kind of conversation with you, of which, you were having none.
Yeah, I kind of thought you were a prick for snubbing her, but you were probably annoyed that she had about a zillion items and was attempting to bag a grand total of zero of them. But, you should have been a little sensitive to the fact that she was like 70 years fragile and just trying to be social.
After she finished up, I started packing my own groceries, lest the residual fiery rays of cashier-angst be rained down upon me. I was into my second to last bag, and that's when you surprised me. As you passed a box of graham crackers down the belt, you actually spoke to me.
Truth be told, I was impressed that you noticed (and glad that I wasn't purchasing something else like tampons). As I finished packing, you even thanked me for bagging my groceries, and then (sort of) told off the impatient guy behind me for stepping up to the register when it was clear that I still needed to pay.
It is possible that you were trying to impress me, since, now that I think on it, I was dressed every bit the skater punk like you. Or maybe you were just grateful that I took the time to load my own bags. Or, you could just be super observant. Regardless, you actually had the notion to say something to me.
I was walking down the shore at Raritan Bay with Dillon the other weekend, when I randomly decided to draw a huge "Hello :)" in the sand. We walked to the other end of the beach, putzed around for a bit, and then came back. On the return stroll, just as we were coming back on my sign, we passed by a random gent who glanced down at the message, smiled, and walked on. I was insufferably happy afterwards, partly because I put a grin on a complete stranger's face, but also because he actually looked at it instead of ignoring or missing it.
There, and in your line, for the briefest of moments, there was some kind of human connection, and while it probably didn't mean much, it made life that much more OK in my book.
Until the next.
Monday, August 20, 2012
A Matter of Priorities
Today is the first day in a few weeks that I have managed to leave work on time. And by on time, I mean that I worked my 8 hours, said "I'm done." and actually left without interruption.
Some people have an evening routine - workout, read, watch the tube, whatever. Getting home around dinner time + taking care of a new, young kitten have kind of disrupted this pattern for me. Not today, though. I made a beeline for that gate, and nothing was going to stop me.
So what did I do with my extra 1.5 hours of freedom?
I built this nonsense:
That, friends, is the world's ugliest DIY airzooka. One empty juice bottle, two rubber bands, a plastic bag, and some duct tape. Does it work? Yes. Does it put out candles? If you stand about 2 feet away from the flame, it will. Is it weaker than a person just blowing in your face? Probably.
Do I care?
Absolutely not.
I occasionally build pointless nonsense, and I am OK with that.
Until the next.
Some people have an evening routine - workout, read, watch the tube, whatever. Getting home around dinner time + taking care of a new, young kitten have kind of disrupted this pattern for me. Not today, though. I made a beeline for that gate, and nothing was going to stop me.
So what did I do with my extra 1.5 hours of freedom?
I built this nonsense:
That, friends, is the world's ugliest DIY airzooka. One empty juice bottle, two rubber bands, a plastic bag, and some duct tape. Does it work? Yes. Does it put out candles? If you stand about 2 feet away from the flame, it will. Is it weaker than a person just blowing in your face? Probably.
Do I care?
Absolutely not.
I occasionally build pointless nonsense, and I am OK with that.
Until the next.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
The Best Laid Plans
This sounded like a much better idea in my head.
^^^Words that should not be used to start a successful story (or, rather, a story that results in any kind of success). I'm getting a little ahead of myself, so let me explain. Because my furniture is kind of cheap, getting the wood wet is asking for trouble. Specifically, the top layer of my coffee table will swell and start to peel. In order to prevent this, coasters are in order.
The other week, I got it into my head that I wanted to make coasters from scratch. Why? Because, as we established, I am cheap, didn't want to pay for square plaster tiles, and was feeling bored. A few nights ago, though, I decided to tack on another little part of this activity:
Why not try this while drunk?
Before you start judging me, I'm not doing this to be trashy (mostly). Actually, yeah, all the hip bloggers are doing it, so I thought I'd have a go. But there is another reason. I have been past the point of "tipsy" once in my life. Once. Why? Because the other 95% of the time, I was this girl:
Or this girl:
The result of having to play mom was that, over time, I managed to force sobriety through any amount of alcohol I ingested. Do you know what happens when you take the euphoria out of booze? You get gross, bitter liquid. By the time I was legally able to purchase my own alcohol, I was pretty disenchanted with the hooch, so I often faked drinking by getting soda instead. Frankly, it was easier to get "drunk" on the atmosphere more so than my BAC.
But now I'm curious. So here's a few questions I plan to ask:
1.) What am I like when I've had more than I can take? Which, given the fact that I'm Asian, is like 3 shots.
2.) What are my creative tastes when between when I'm sober and when I'm under the influence?
To test this, I'll be doing a very crude experiment. I'll be making 6 coasters in all, one of which, I'll decorate before, the other 5, after a few drinks. Since I have built up some inadvertent tolerance, I'll also be watching Adam Hills talk about surrealism (if you don't know what I'm talking about, GO FORTH AND SEARCHETH YOUTUBE, MY SON), which I'm hoping will help speed up the euphoria. Also, because, as we've already discussed, I'd like to keep my furniture intact, I'll be doing most of the messy work before I'm drunk.
CEMENT TIME!
^^^Words that should not be used to start a successful story (or, rather, a story that results in any kind of success). I'm getting a little ahead of myself, so let me explain. Because my furniture is kind of cheap, getting the wood wet is asking for trouble. Specifically, the top layer of my coffee table will swell and start to peel. In order to prevent this, coasters are in order.
The other week, I got it into my head that I wanted to make coasters from scratch. Why? Because, as we established, I am cheap, didn't want to pay for square plaster tiles, and was feeling bored. A few nights ago, though, I decided to tack on another little part of this activity:
Why not try this while drunk?
Before you start judging me, I'm not doing this to be trashy (mostly). Actually, yeah, all the hip bloggers are doing it, so I thought I'd have a go. But there is another reason. I have been past the point of "tipsy" once in my life. Once. Why? Because the other 95% of the time, I was this girl:
 |
| AKA - the C-Block |
Or this girl:
 |
| AKA - The D.D. |
The result of having to play mom was that, over time, I managed to force sobriety through any amount of alcohol I ingested. Do you know what happens when you take the euphoria out of booze? You get gross, bitter liquid. By the time I was legally able to purchase my own alcohol, I was pretty disenchanted with the hooch, so I often faked drinking by getting soda instead. Frankly, it was easier to get "drunk" on the atmosphere more so than my BAC.
But now I'm curious. So here's a few questions I plan to ask:
1.) What am I like when I've had more than I can take? Which, given the fact that I'm Asian, is like 3 shots.
2.) What are my creative tastes when between when I'm sober and when I'm under the influence?
To test this, I'll be doing a very crude experiment. I'll be making 6 coasters in all, one of which, I'll decorate before, the other 5, after a few drinks. Since I have built up some inadvertent tolerance, I'll also be watching Adam Hills talk about surrealism (if you don't know what I'm talking about, GO FORTH AND SEARCHETH YOUTUBE, MY SON), which I'm hoping will help speed up the euphoria. Also, because, as we've already discussed, I'd like to keep my furniture intact, I'll be doing most of the messy work before I'm drunk.
CEMENT TIME!
 |
| "Why do I own quick-set cement?" Silly readers. Don't you know my by now? |
 |
| My mold - a small cardboard gift box lid |
***20 min later***
Alright, so my tiles have all set. They're a bit crusty, so I'll add felt on one side so that they don't scratch up my tables:
As for the tops, I'll be finding pictures on the Internet, printing them out, and then slathering Modge Podge over the whole thing.
Image search: Sober
I like flowers, and frankly, I think this is right up my alley. The finished product isn't half bad. Not the cleanest presentation, but it's my first attempt at this.
NOW FOR THE REAL CHALLENGE. Because, as I've said, I don't like the taste of alcohol, I'll be doing my best to mask it with a barrage of other flavors, so that I don't reject it in the worst way possible. Last night, I mixed a set of popsicles with OJ, vanilla greek yogurt, and Malibu. I'm a little worried, but tasting it now, it's not half bad. I can hardly taste the rum. Fab. I'll be back in a moment.
***
First popsicle - not doing much for me, right now, but it's like… half a shot worth? And it's intermixed with yogurt and orange juice, so maybe it's taking some time to absorb. Possibly, it didn't help that I had a few fish fingers about half an hour ago.
Second popsicle. Still not much damage, though when I stood up, I did wiggle a little, But not in that "ooh, I'm so hammered" manner. More of a "The blood rushed from my head from standing too fast" kind of manner.
Third popsicle. Frack. I mixed this horribly. The top half is totally gross. Rum yogurt is foul. Like whoa. I'm going to have trouble choking this down. FOR SCIENCE! Still not feeling anything though. This calls for some drastic measures. And by drastic, I mean I single shot. Again.
***10 min later*** Ok. It might just be Adam Hills, but I am pretty giggly now. Clearly a good time to start looking for images.
You know what would make a great coaster? Nerdfighteria. Why? Probably because I have a raging Nerd-boner for John Green. Yup, I just said that. Time to check Google.
Nerdfighterria flag? Yes. I have no idea what that says, but I won't question it. Gwen can translate it for me later. I LOVE THIS COASTER. IT IS SO BEAUTIFUl. More things need to come from this source. Like… wait for it… THE MONGOLS. (If you do not know what I am talking about, SHAME ON YOU.)
What else do I want. Actually - I know. Miyazaki. That man needs more of a spotlight than limited theatre releases from Disney. I have always wanted a Kodama plush, but ai suppose a picture plastered on cement will do just as well.
Let's do more Miyazaki films. Totoro? Nooo, that's dull. I got it - suss…wataa… Something. Soot balls? What does google say. "Susuwatari" WOrks for me.
One more tile to go. I can't tell if I'm starting to lose the buzz. Keep in mind it takes like... 20 min to finish one of these b/c of all the pasting required. I think the answer to that is yes. It's slowly being replaced by a mild headache. Need to think of something. …Um… Gunnerkrigg. I could sift through comic pages, or I could conveniently used a picture that I've already saved to my desktop.
TADAAAAA:
***
Two hours later, still suffering from a mild headache, probably thanks to the fact that I suck at drinking water on a regular basis.
What have I learned from this little descent into stupidity?
1 - Nothing will ever make alcohol palatable.
2 - When I am sober and trying to be crafty, I get "artsy" (and trite). When I am less than sober, I become a massive nerd. And a giggly one, at that. Frankly, I'm nerdy and giggly about 50% of the time, anyway.
3 - Evidently, my tolerance has increased again? O_o
I really hope someone found some entertainment out of this.
'Til the next.
As for the tops, I'll be finding pictures on the Internet, printing them out, and then slathering Modge Podge over the whole thing.
I like flowers, and frankly, I think this is right up my alley. The finished product isn't half bad. Not the cleanest presentation, but it's my first attempt at this.
NOW FOR THE REAL CHALLENGE. Because, as I've said, I don't like the taste of alcohol, I'll be doing my best to mask it with a barrage of other flavors, so that I don't reject it in the worst way possible. Last night, I mixed a set of popsicles with OJ, vanilla greek yogurt, and Malibu. I'm a little worried, but tasting it now, it's not half bad. I can hardly taste the rum. Fab. I'll be back in a moment.
***
First popsicle - not doing much for me, right now, but it's like… half a shot worth? And it's intermixed with yogurt and orange juice, so maybe it's taking some time to absorb. Possibly, it didn't help that I had a few fish fingers about half an hour ago.
Second popsicle. Still not much damage, though when I stood up, I did wiggle a little, But not in that "ooh, I'm so hammered" manner. More of a "The blood rushed from my head from standing too fast" kind of manner.
Third popsicle. Frack. I mixed this horribly. The top half is totally gross. Rum yogurt is foul. Like whoa. I'm going to have trouble choking this down. FOR SCIENCE! Still not feeling anything though. This calls for some drastic measures. And by drastic, I mean I single shot. Again.
***10 min later*** Ok. It might just be Adam Hills, but I am pretty giggly now. Clearly a good time to start looking for images.
You know what would make a great coaster? Nerdfighteria. Why? Probably because I have a raging Nerd-boner for John Green. Yup, I just said that. Time to check Google.
Nerdfighterria flag? Yes. I have no idea what that says, but I won't question it. Gwen can translate it for me later. I LOVE THIS COASTER. IT IS SO BEAUTIFUl. More things need to come from this source. Like… wait for it… THE MONGOLS. (If you do not know what I am talking about, SHAME ON YOU.)
What else do I want. Actually - I know. Miyazaki. That man needs more of a spotlight than limited theatre releases from Disney. I have always wanted a Kodama plush, but ai suppose a picture plastered on cement will do just as well.
Let's do more Miyazaki films. Totoro? Nooo, that's dull. I got it - suss…wataa… Something. Soot balls? What does google say. "Susuwatari" WOrks for me.
One more tile to go. I can't tell if I'm starting to lose the buzz. Keep in mind it takes like... 20 min to finish one of these b/c of all the pasting required. I think the answer to that is yes. It's slowly being replaced by a mild headache. Need to think of something. …Um… Gunnerkrigg. I could sift through comic pages, or I could conveniently used a picture that I've already saved to my desktop.
TADAAAAA:
***
Two hours later, still suffering from a mild headache, probably thanks to the fact that I suck at drinking water on a regular basis.
What have I learned from this little descent into stupidity?
1 - Nothing will ever make alcohol palatable.
2 - When I am sober and trying to be crafty, I get "artsy" (and trite). When I am less than sober, I become a massive nerd. And a giggly one, at that. Frankly, I'm nerdy and giggly about 50% of the time, anyway.
3 - Evidently, my tolerance has increased again? O_o
 |
'Til the next.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)