No.
I hate you.
I am going to sit on the other couch.
Screw You,
Molly
Monday, April 25, 2011
Dear Molly, I am not going to take "No" for an Answer. Surprise Photobooth Attack!!!! Just Sit There On The Back Of The Couch And Look Cute. Love, Amy
Dear Amy,
No.
I hate you.
I am going to sit on the other couch.
Screw You,
Molly
No.
I hate you.
I am going to sit on the other couch.
Screw You,
Molly
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Genetics & Chocoholism: A Study
So, it's not news that I have a pretty big sweet tooth.
But, in my defense, I have a pretty specific sweet tooth.
I would die for ice cream, I love candy in chocolate form (milk and dark) and I can put away more cookies in one sitting then I care to divulge. I especially enjoy chocolate chip cookies (not too chewy, not too hard), Milanos and any sort of biscuit coated in dark chocolate. Milanos cannot be expected to last more than three days in my possession.
When it comes to cake, pie, cupcakes, and brownies...I'm not too enthusiastic. When I eat ice cream cake, I leave the cake and eat the ice cream. Warm apple pie a la mode sounds good about once a year and if you were to put the most delicious piece of cake in front of me, I'd probably say, "Meh. Got any ice cream? Or chocolate bars? Or M&Ms?"
So.
Anyway.
I took my grandpa shopping the other day. And we had to go to Walgreens and the grocery store. He's reading me off his Walgreens list and it's got stuff like, "Lotion" "Tums" "Shampoo" Ect ect.
And then he goes, "And Candy."
Candy was the first thing we got in the store.
Three bags of it.
All various kinds of chocolate.
Bag of fun size Milky Ways? Plunk, in the cart.
Bag of chocolate covered carmel peanut clusters? Plunk, in the cart.
Bag of regular peanut clusters?? Plunk. In. The. Cart.
Phew. With that taken care of we moved on to the less important stuff...like shampoo and metamucil.
Then we go to the grocery store.
Dude gets his groceries and we're going through the store and then he slyly sends me off to the deli to get him some meat while he continues to shop.
When I come back, I look in his cart and see a sampler pack of chocolate pepperidge farm cookies that includes Milanos. (It's also worth mentioning that I happen to be devouring Milanos as I blog. Great minds, right?)
Then we head to produce to get him some grapefruit and he goes, "Oh! Aim! I need ice cream."
So we go to the ice cream aisle and he's like, "Get that chocolate one there. Edy's. Yeah."
I'm pretty sure by the time we were finished shopping, 30% of his foodstuffs was chocolate.
So we get back to his condo and I'm helping unload and I pull out all the candy and plunk it on his table and he's like, "Aw jeez I sure got a lot of bags of candy."
Yeah, Grandpa. You did.
Three to be exact.
And cookies.
And ice cream.
I like the way you roll.
I am without a doubt your granddaughter as there is nary a day I do not have chocolate somewhere in direct access.
But, in my defense, I have a pretty specific sweet tooth.
I would die for ice cream, I love candy in chocolate form (milk and dark) and I can put away more cookies in one sitting then I care to divulge. I especially enjoy chocolate chip cookies (not too chewy, not too hard), Milanos and any sort of biscuit coated in dark chocolate. Milanos cannot be expected to last more than three days in my possession.
When it comes to cake, pie, cupcakes, and brownies...I'm not too enthusiastic. When I eat ice cream cake, I leave the cake and eat the ice cream. Warm apple pie a la mode sounds good about once a year and if you were to put the most delicious piece of cake in front of me, I'd probably say, "Meh. Got any ice cream? Or chocolate bars? Or M&Ms?"
So.
Anyway.
I took my grandpa shopping the other day. And we had to go to Walgreens and the grocery store. He's reading me off his Walgreens list and it's got stuff like, "Lotion" "Tums" "Shampoo" Ect ect.
And then he goes, "And Candy."
Candy was the first thing we got in the store.
Three bags of it.
All various kinds of chocolate.
Bag of fun size Milky Ways? Plunk, in the cart.
Bag of chocolate covered carmel peanut clusters? Plunk, in the cart.
Bag of regular peanut clusters?? Plunk. In. The. Cart.
Phew. With that taken care of we moved on to the less important stuff...like shampoo and metamucil.
Then we go to the grocery store.
Dude gets his groceries and we're going through the store and then he slyly sends me off to the deli to get him some meat while he continues to shop.
When I come back, I look in his cart and see a sampler pack of chocolate pepperidge farm cookies that includes Milanos. (It's also worth mentioning that I happen to be devouring Milanos as I blog. Great minds, right?)
Then we head to produce to get him some grapefruit and he goes, "Oh! Aim! I need ice cream."
So we go to the ice cream aisle and he's like, "Get that chocolate one there. Edy's. Yeah."
I'm pretty sure by the time we were finished shopping, 30% of his foodstuffs was chocolate.
So we get back to his condo and I'm helping unload and I pull out all the candy and plunk it on his table and he's like, "Aw jeez I sure got a lot of bags of candy."
Yeah, Grandpa. You did.
Three to be exact.
And cookies.
And ice cream.
I like the way you roll.
I am without a doubt your granddaughter as there is nary a day I do not have chocolate somewhere in direct access.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
I Have a Black Thumb of Death
So.
I love to cook.
Mostly, because I love to eat.
I am a vegetarian.
I love fresh vegetables.
I care about the earth and stuff.
I like projects and learning new things and doing things for myself.
Given all these facts, growing my own food seemed like a logical next step in the process of life.
I wanted to be "that girl" that showed up to work on a random Tuesday with a basket full of stuff from my own garden.
I wanted to be able to cook a meal and say, "Oh! I need a tomato! I'll just run outside and pick one off the vine!"
I wanted to have a list of my favorite herbs in constant supply in my backyard.
I wanted to be an eco-conscious, food-conscious, forward-thinking, sustainable-living, 20-something with a grand garden of goodies.
Alas, sometimes the things we want to be are not who we are. This is a hard lesson to learn in life...
Two summers ago, I planted six plants outside. Tomatoes, cucumbers, herbs, peppers and jalapenos. I made the mistake of planting them out of reach of the hose, so water (filling up a water can like...12 times back and forth) was a giant chore. And thus...watering probably did not happen as often as it should. I made the mistake of planting those plants on the sun bleached, Sahara-in-the-summer, side of the garage too. They never had a chance. Sorry dudes. I killed you.
Last summer, I decided to a) plant my plants within reach of the hose and b) Start a little smaller. I was even super fancy and made my own "upside down hanger" for my tomato plant. I thought this garden was destined for greatness. I thought I'd be eating homemade, homegrown Salsa all summer long. What happened to those plants? Oh yeah. They died. Which is a nice way of saying "I killed them."
After the deaths of my plants last summer, I learned that I should never be allowed to farm. Maybe one day, when I'm old and have more time on my hands...I can be a farmer. Maybe farming and growing a garden is something that's meant for a later stage in my life. When me and my chocolate lab named Bear can trapse through our garden and care for plants properly. Maybe Bear with munch tomatoes off the vine when I'm not looking. Maybe I am doomed to have a Black Thumb of Death forver. Who's to really say?
Five months after I buried my dead plants, it was my birthday. My family gave me a Chia pet herb garden as a gift. I think it was probably a desperate attempt to save plants everywhere from my Black Thumb of Death. "Dear God, let's just get her a Chia pet herb garden. Maybe then she won't feel the need to murder any innocent cucumber plants this summer. And I also really don't want a dead, upside down tomato plant in my yard this year. People are going to think Satanists."
So.
I got this herb garden.
As I tend to do, I got a little over excited.
I unwrapped my Chia Pet Herb garden on January First.
And planted them like...a hour later.
Chris was like, "Oh. You're planting them already, huh?"
And I was like, "Heck yes I am!"
I proudly put them on the window sill in the kitchen, where I was sure they would soak up all of that rich, nutritious (read:non existent) January sunlight. I even put ziplock bags over them to a get a Terrarium effect and help the little guys grow considering it was January and I put them on a WINDOWSILL.
By the way...in case you were wondering, I am a genius.
Can you guess what happened?
It's not like they didn't grow. They DID grow. And I DID water them faithfully (it's really easy to remember to water when the plants are staring you in the face everytime you're at the sink).
And for a second I thought to myself, "Maybe I DON'T have a Black Thumb of Death. Maybe one day I'll have a compost pile of my very own. Maybe this year is the year to do it!!! Maybe I SHOULD try again this summer and plant some vegetables!!"
And then...
Well.
And then...they just...stopped growing.
I don't know what happened.
They just, well...they've looked like this since mid-February:
Scraggly. Brown. Going nowhere.
Just like my career as an organic farmer.
I love to cook.
Mostly, because I love to eat.
I am a vegetarian.
I love fresh vegetables.
I care about the earth and stuff.
I like projects and learning new things and doing things for myself.
Given all these facts, growing my own food seemed like a logical next step in the process of life.
I wanted to be "that girl" that showed up to work on a random Tuesday with a basket full of stuff from my own garden.
I wanted to be able to cook a meal and say, "Oh! I need a tomato! I'll just run outside and pick one off the vine!"
I wanted to have a list of my favorite herbs in constant supply in my backyard.
I wanted to be an eco-conscious, food-conscious, forward-thinking, sustainable-living, 20-something with a grand garden of goodies.
Alas, sometimes the things we want to be are not who we are. This is a hard lesson to learn in life...
Two summers ago, I planted six plants outside. Tomatoes, cucumbers, herbs, peppers and jalapenos. I made the mistake of planting them out of reach of the hose, so water (filling up a water can like...12 times back and forth) was a giant chore. And thus...watering probably did not happen as often as it should. I made the mistake of planting those plants on the sun bleached, Sahara-in-the-summer, side of the garage too. They never had a chance. Sorry dudes. I killed you.
Last summer, I decided to a) plant my plants within reach of the hose and b) Start a little smaller. I was even super fancy and made my own "upside down hanger" for my tomato plant. I thought this garden was destined for greatness. I thought I'd be eating homemade, homegrown Salsa all summer long. What happened to those plants? Oh yeah. They died. Which is a nice way of saying "I killed them."
After the deaths of my plants last summer, I learned that I should never be allowed to farm. Maybe one day, when I'm old and have more time on my hands...I can be a farmer. Maybe farming and growing a garden is something that's meant for a later stage in my life. When me and my chocolate lab named Bear can trapse through our garden and care for plants properly. Maybe Bear with munch tomatoes off the vine when I'm not looking. Maybe I am doomed to have a Black Thumb of Death forver. Who's to really say?
Five months after I buried my dead plants, it was my birthday. My family gave me a Chia pet herb garden as a gift. I think it was probably a desperate attempt to save plants everywhere from my Black Thumb of Death. "Dear God, let's just get her a Chia pet herb garden. Maybe then she won't feel the need to murder any innocent cucumber plants this summer. And I also really don't want a dead, upside down tomato plant in my yard this year. People are going to think Satanists."
So.
I got this herb garden.
As I tend to do, I got a little over excited.
I unwrapped my Chia Pet Herb garden on January First.
And planted them like...a hour later.
Chris was like, "Oh. You're planting them already, huh?"
And I was like, "Heck yes I am!"
I proudly put them on the window sill in the kitchen, where I was sure they would soak up all of that rich, nutritious (read:non existent) January sunlight. I even put ziplock bags over them to a get a Terrarium effect and help the little guys grow considering it was January and I put them on a WINDOWSILL.
By the way...in case you were wondering, I am a genius.
Can you guess what happened?
It's not like they didn't grow. They DID grow. And I DID water them faithfully (it's really easy to remember to water when the plants are staring you in the face everytime you're at the sink).
And for a second I thought to myself, "Maybe I DON'T have a Black Thumb of Death. Maybe one day I'll have a compost pile of my very own. Maybe this year is the year to do it!!! Maybe I SHOULD try again this summer and plant some vegetables!!"
And then...
Well.
And then...they just...stopped growing.
I don't know what happened.
They just, well...they've looked like this since mid-February:
Scraggly. Brown. Going nowhere.
Just like my career as an organic farmer.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Love Rant: Swamp People
I love the TV show Swamp People on the History Channel.
Why?
I have no freakin' clue.
But it's like a bad accident...you can't look away.
And it's like Cadbury Mini Eggs...strangely addicting.
The show is about people who live on the swamp and hunt alligators.
The end.
That's all.
Every single episode is the same.
Dudes driving around in a boat, huntin' alligators.
Will they catch a bunch of alligators?
Won't they catch a bunch of alligators?
I don't know. I guess I will just have to watch to find out exactly how many alligators they catch and if they catch a really big one.
One dude on the show, gets so dirty and smelly hunting alligators, he puts bleach in his bath water to clean up at the end of the day.
Another dude on the show, in addition to being an alligator hunter is also a world champion arm wrestler.
Could I make this stuff up?
Also, I'm 99.9% sure that guy wearing overalls pictured above (the one without a shirt) does not wear underwear. Like...ever, but especially when he's wearing overalls. And that is ALL that man wears when he hunts...overalls and america bandana.
What's interesting about the show is that here and now, in the year 2011 these dudes are still hunting alligators old school style. Like, you think there would be a computer software to help locate alligators and then sleek, special gator traps to trap the alligators.
Um.
No.
These guys string up putrid pieces of chicken (apparently, that's what dem gators love to munch on) on a giant hook, leave and come back the next day to see if they've hooked a gator. And gators being gators just devour down that piece of chicken whole, and the point is to get the hook into their stomach so they'll be on the line long enough for these dudes to drive up in their boats, pull them to the surface and put a bullet in this special quarter-sized spot between their eyes because APPARENTLY thats the ONLY place you can shoot a gator to kill it. Yeah. Seriously. Happy aiming if you eve get in a rumble with an alligator and happen to carry a sidearm. Then these guys HAUL the gator into their skimpy looking boat and move on to check their next line.
And THEN as the swamp people go about their day, pulling gators off their lines and shootin' them...these dudes just ride around all day, with like...a stack of dead alligators in their boat. I'm not even kidding. There was one episode where dudes were literally tripping over dead gator bodies in the boat, to haul ANOTHER dead gator into the boat.
It's equal parts horrifying and fascinating.
And I LOVE it. And I find equal parts horrifying and fascinating that I love it so much.
I'm telling you. Go to the History Channel website. And watch an episode. You will thank me and then tell me how much you hate me.
Oh and I know what you're thinking....
"BUT AMY YOU LOVE ANIMALS SO MUCH. PLUS YOU'RE A VEGETARIAN HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY LOVE A SHOW ABOUT KILLING ALLIGATORS?!"
Um:
a) Last time I checked, not only are alligators NOT vegetarians, they're not nice carnivores. I think it has something to do with an oversized Medulla Oblongata. Or a toothache. One of the two.
b) Alligators are way over-populated in the areas these guys hunt and they HAVE to hunt the alligators to keep them from chowing down on someone's kid.
c) I want a pair of alligator skin converse sneakers. (Not really)
d) Alligators are dinosaurs. So they've pretty much already over-stayed their welcome on the party that is existence. (I don't really think that).
There. My tender, vegetarian heart has justified watching alligators die.
Also. I have never ever seen The Jersey Shore in my life and don't really care to, BUT I would love to see a Swamp People/Jersey Shore crossover episode. It should be two parts. Part 1: Snookie goes gator huntin'. Part 2:The Swamp people go fist pumpin'.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Dreams Are Weird Episode #1
So.
I have this really awesome Nightmare Before Christmas mug. Because it is such a cool mug, I just have it on a shelf in my room and never use it for beverages. I cleaned my room last night and can recall looking at it and thinking, "Hm. What's the best place for this?" I found a spot for it, finished cleaning my room and passed out shortly after...
And I start dreamin'.
All the sudden, I'm dreamin' this dream that this real-life girl I think is cute was drinking coffee out of my favorite, decorative Nightmare Before Christmas mug. Waaaaaah!!!
So, I see this and in my brain I'm like, "OMG! That mug is decorative!! Why did she put coffee in it?? That mug is NOT for beverages! Where did she GET my favorite, decorative, Nightmare Before Christmas mug??...She probably just doesn't know that it's a) decorative and b) special to me. I should tell her."
So then, all I do in the dream is pretend to play coy and say to her (I should also mention I'm "slow fading" out of the room we're in as I say this in an attempt to be coy and possibly sexy (I should not be allowed to try to be sexy)), "Just so you know, that mug is decorative and The Nightmare Before Christmas is my favorite movie. My favorite movie of allllllllllll time. My favorite movie ever. And that's a Nightmare Before Christmas mug you're drinking out of, so just so you know...you should feel honored to drink out of it. Just so you know...and that mug is decorative, just so you know..."
And all the while, while I'm slow-fading and telling it to her like it is, she's saying, "Uh-Huh. Ok. Oh I get it" and smiling at me like, "Honey, I am going to use the fact that you think I'm cute to drink coffee out of your Nightmare Before Christmas mug ALL THE TIME muhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!! I don't CARE if it's decorative I drink out of whatever mug I damn well please!! Sucks that you think I'm cute, you giant dork!!"
...This is probably a sign that it will never work out between us. Next thing she'll do is use my Mary Oliver book of poetry as a coaster and pair of goggles thrown to me from the track by an actual jockey as eye protection to mow the lawn.
I have this really awesome Nightmare Before Christmas mug. Because it is such a cool mug, I just have it on a shelf in my room and never use it for beverages. I cleaned my room last night and can recall looking at it and thinking, "Hm. What's the best place for this?" I found a spot for it, finished cleaning my room and passed out shortly after...
And I start dreamin'.
All the sudden, I'm dreamin' this dream that this real-life girl I think is cute was drinking coffee out of my favorite, decorative Nightmare Before Christmas mug. Waaaaaah!!!
So, I see this and in my brain I'm like, "OMG! That mug is decorative!! Why did she put coffee in it?? That mug is NOT for beverages! Where did she GET my favorite, decorative, Nightmare Before Christmas mug??...She probably just doesn't know that it's a) decorative and b) special to me. I should tell her."
So then, all I do in the dream is pretend to play coy and say to her (I should also mention I'm "slow fading" out of the room we're in as I say this in an attempt to be coy and possibly sexy (I should not be allowed to try to be sexy)), "Just so you know, that mug is decorative and The Nightmare Before Christmas is my favorite movie. My favorite movie of allllllllllll time. My favorite movie ever. And that's a Nightmare Before Christmas mug you're drinking out of, so just so you know...you should feel honored to drink out of it. Just so you know...and that mug is decorative, just so you know..."
And all the while, while I'm slow-fading and telling it to her like it is, she's saying, "Uh-Huh. Ok. Oh I get it" and smiling at me like, "Honey, I am going to use the fact that you think I'm cute to drink coffee out of your Nightmare Before Christmas mug ALL THE TIME muhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!! I don't CARE if it's decorative I drink out of whatever mug I damn well please!! Sucks that you think I'm cute, you giant dork!!"
...This is probably a sign that it will never work out between us. Next thing she'll do is use my Mary Oliver book of poetry as a coaster and pair of goggles thrown to me from the track by an actual jockey as eye protection to mow the lawn.
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