raybear: (chik-fil-a)
I'm sitting on [livejournal.com profile] anjiyama's couch, wrapped in quilts made by her mom. Its overcast this morning and I'm cold, but that's also because I'm not really wearing any clothes, short of boxers and an a-frame. After a warm shower and getting dressed, I will be fine, the sun will come out, I'm going for a walk. I'm on the third trip in two months: first was Miami, then the road trip to Atlanta, and now the southern California leg. One project I'm going to work on while here is transcribing the digital audio notes I made along the way (including some bits of conversations with my father while we drove around the old neighborhoods), start culling and editing footage, and also start writing out the essay I want to make about the experience. All of these final products will find there way here in some form, I'm sure, but in the meantime, I will report that the trip was really, really great. Parts of it were weird or hard or sad or strange, but even those moments I approached most often with curiosity, nothing was painful. And all of the amazing good things outweighed it anyway: seeing old friends and meeting their awesome kids (who are so much like their parent), eating favorite foods, driving all over town and revisiting places and feelings, and lots of small amazing moments of clarity during my interactions with people, about myself and about my history. The trip was exactly what I wanted and even more than I possibly hoped for. And my parents. My parents. They are exactly the same. We were exactly the same. Which is both strange, to have an 8 year gap and we never directly addressed the how/why of that, but also familiar and good, to just have interactions to show, ok, we are all the same people, we have in some ways had this same struggle all along, in that my way of seeing the world doesn't exactly fit into their way of seeing the world. No grand epiphanies happened, just more the elements of my life were brought into sharper focus, and now that I'm away from the trip, there is still pain and sadness in my heart about it at times, but for the most part, I feel ready to sort of close the door on this chapter, to call a truce of sorts. It is hard to remain angry after facing in person the pain and sadness of it all, I can't sustain anger at people who are so at a loss for what to do. But also, I will not suddenly become someone who is close to their parents, who calls and visits them all the time. They will not suddenly 'get' my life and the choices I've made. They are not the family/parents I desire, I am not the child they desired, but we are all who we are and I feel ready to just accept the reality of that, along with the reality of wanting to still participate in each others' lives in some way, there is still love present in all of its awkward desires. I will make the trip again, it won't be 8 years. It might even be almost every year, in the spring. And on the way home, I will stop in places like Louisville and Nashville where my other family is, people who make me sandwiches for the road and stay up until 1 am talking, who tell me they love me so freely that I blush when I hear it.

So that is the general summary. Concrete stories to follow in some form, at some time. For now, I'm going to enjoy southern California (and my family here) before I return home to begin the process of finding a job teaching writing.

Oh, and I ate Chick-fil-a three and a half times. The half is because I brought home 3 sandwiches, two for [livejournal.com profile] dommeyourass and one I ate for breakfast the morning after getting home.
raybear: (chik-fil-a)
I came home from work jonesing for something sweet and chocolate, but we had nothing of that sort in the house. I ate a pear, but that didn't cut it. So then I decided, I'm not that tired, I'll make some brownies. All the ingredients are here, they don't take too much effort. I turned on the oven and pulled out the box of cocoa. On the back were some recipes for mousse and a cake and homemade frosting. Homemade frosting! I've never really made my own frosting. I'm going to make frosted brownies! I started pulling out a bowl and melted the butter and added the sugar, then realized, duh, I need to start the brownies themselves, and I looked at the clock....and turned off the oven. And made a batch of homemade chocolate frosting. And ate a few spoonfuls of it. And now I feel sick and overfull and also sated. Much like when I eat those few spoonfuls of ready-made frosting in a can from the grocery store.

Tomorrow morning I will open that fridge and see the big bowl of leftovers and shake my head at myself.
raybear: (chik-fil-a)
Thursday night is always pizza night at work, which has lost some of its novelty. But tonight, its pizza.....and buffalo wings. I'm maybe a little too excited.
raybear: (Default)
I present Why McCain's VP Pick is Pretty Brilliant (Remix): We're all talking the hell out of her, aren't we? Obama who? Hell, I bet the pregnant teenage daughter was a selling point.

In Other News, I'm not really sure why the spirit moved me this way, but yesterday while grocery shopping, I decided to buy a box of Pinwheels. I don't know if I like them. My father loved them and I was frightened and disgusted by them as a child, but I also hated most marshmallow things. Lately I've been craving these brownies that my mom used to make that involved putting a layer of mini-marshmallows on the top of the brownie batter, then drizzling chocolate over it and baking (this was the only form of marshmallows I loved). The pinwheels will probably pale in comparison to those homemade goodnesses. But I'm going to open them and eat them when I finish this novel draft. I'm very very close, but I needed an extra carrot to hang on the stick. Speaking of, time to get on that.


Mmmmmmm, you will be mine soon.
raybear: (chik-fil-a)
Today I learned that a potato masher and a hand mixer can't quite replicate a blender or a food processor. But! My made-up-on-the-fly Fennel Cream Soup is so delicious, I don't even mind that its a little chunky. I think it will be more delicious after sitting overnight and eating it chilled.
raybear: (Default)
Once every 3 years I find something on eBay I want to buy, so I make a bid and 'commit', but than can't be bothered with PayPal and so I flake on it. Its not even laziness, its general disgust for all things eBay and PayPal and feeling unwilling to deal with them at all. I have the same feeling whenever I go to a MySpace page. I'm sure there's some internet karmic response that is served on me as a result.

The problem with summer bringing an explosion of vegetables every week from the farm where we own a share is that in the heat and humitidy of our apartment, I am the least willing to cook. Granted, we are getting lots of lettuce and things that I can just cut up with scissors and eat raw, but that gets tiring. Today I'm going to do it anyway though, and create some sort of dish involving kohlrabi, beets, zucchini, radishes and scallions. I got sucked into watching most of an Oprah, a repeat with Jerry Seinfeld's wife who made a cookbook that's all about using vegetable purees in every dish, to sneak it into foods for kids, etc. Psychology aside, there were interest food ideas. And then Dr. Oz came on and explained the "scientific principle" behind kids being picky eaters, which is that children evolved to have 10,000 taste buds on average, whereas adults have 3,000. The evolutionary purpose is that in the wild, foods that taste sweet are safe, foods that are bitter might be poison. As you get older, you learn what is good to eat, you don't need to stick only to sugar-tasting things. Its funny, I was just thinking last week while eating a sandwich with sprouts, how as a kid I had no problem getting dirt in my mouth while playing, but hated all foods that were "earthy". As an adult, I'm all about foods (or wine) that taste like dirt or minerals. The tastebud thing makes sense though, as to why certain foods like spinach or broccoli made me gag as a kid, or even a teen, but now I don't even notice the sulphur smell that used to trigger it.

Speaking of, I recently had a conversation about sulphur dioxide and why its "bad". Well, it wasn't really a conversation, it was more like 'does anyone know why we aren't supposed to want it in our apricots?' and no one knew. Turns out it can trigger asthma attacks in sensitive individuals. Since that's not an issue for me, now I don't have to worry about sometimes indulging in cheaper storebrand dried fruit.

Ok, ok, gym, bank, laundry. I'm going.
raybear: (scream)
The past couple weeks have been primarily about being kind of freaked out in my head when alone and sitting still, but okay when around people or in motion. So I've been fairly busy and social and moving at the gym or in the woods or on my bike, and all of those things have been amazing and fun. But one can only do those things for so long, other responsibilities come up, or just things like, night and being in bed and surrounding yourself with pillows to create a sort of soft nest to surround me and hope I fall asleep quickly, without too much time spent subject to my brain. But a couple things have made me happy while I'm alone, and they include:

1. Lars and the Real Girl. Well, first off, Richard Roeper hated it, so that says something in its favor. I've been mildly curious about this film, almost saw it when it was playing at the second run theater near my house but missed it. Then [livejournal.com profile] anjibobanji started talking about how much she loved it, that she's watched it multiple times, and so I bumped it up on the netflix queue. I watched it yesterday and I just loved it so much, it was unexpected. When the movie was over, I missed the characters. I'm also on season 2 of Big Love and feeling sort of similar, where I get really sad at the end of a disc, because I can't spend any more time with them.

2. Trader Joe's Chocolate Chip Ice Cream Sandwiches. Trader Joe's is not very convenient to me, and all of their parking lots are horrifically designed (every location in every city I've been to seems to have this problem), but I go specifically for their pear sauce, which is rare in other stores. I always buy two jars, sometimes three. They didn't have any yesterday. I was a pretty heartbroken. But then I got home and ate lunch and afterwards opened up a box of these ice cream sandwiches. When I was a kid, and I first saw the image of a "chipwich" on the ice cream truck, I was so excited. I loved chocolate chip cookies. I loved ice cream. I loved the idea of putting one between the other, and then adding EXTRA chocolate chips? Genius. Except then I had one, and the cookie didn't taste like cookie, the ice cream was that hard, dry cheap kind, and even the chocolate chips tasted fake. I've probably only had four chipwiches in my entire life, I was so disappointed. But these ice cream sandwiches from Trader Joe's are exactly how I dreamed those chipwiches would taste. The cookies are soft bakery style, the ice cream is perfect, the chocolate chips are real. It is perfect. There are only 4 in a box. I should have bought two.

3. I'm going to build my own house. Seriously. Ok, I'm eyeing the giant barn houses and loft houses, to create the super dreamhouse for our 5-10 acres in southwest michigan with [livejournal.com profile] dommeyourass, but the more realistic option is just build the one unit cabin on our property that comes with a house, so it will actually be more of a writer's studio, but I can't wait to sit on the porch out front in a rocking chair and be like, damn, I built this. Seriously. I'm building a fcking house. Ok, it'll be in a few years. But still.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I biked to work, because all this week its sunny and 70s, which is my ideal summer weather because its hot without sweltering. I didn't even bring a change of clothes, I figured I'd get a little sweaty but nothing unreasonable, so I was feeling pretty amused, biking to work in my dark dress pants and white checked button down shirt, then when this elderly woman smiled and waved at me along Milwaukee, I waved backed, but wondered what inspired the friendly outreach until it occured to me: I looked like a mormon guy on his mission.

The week before last, I went out for gelato with [livejournal.com profile] blondestallion and got a mix of two flavors: whiskey and salted peanuts. When I placed my order, when I was eating it, and also several times after when it came up in conversation (it was good gelato), I sang "salt peanuts! salt peanuts!" And every time, most people looked at me slightly startled/confused and then acted like I hadn't just done that. I mean, I know my brain is a sponge of random information. But still, sometimes I forget. Luckily I have a blog, so now everyone can know about Salt Peanuts and I will be less alone in the world.

raybear: (scream)
I'm back from San Francisco! And its almost the weekend. That is the way to time your travel. The only downside to the trip was its brevity, yet there was a certain elegance in having squeezed in so many guest appearances within such a short period, especially since they were all paired with great meals or snacks. My favorite might be the indonesian restaurant on Sunday night in Richmond, but really, its only by a hair that it wins. I hit my favorites: Maxfield's, Bombay ice cream, Twin Peaks. I finally ate at The Sausage Factory. There was brunch as 2223 Market (aka No-name) and on the last night there was bbq from the stand across the street from [livejournal.com profile] limenal whose name I've forgotten, but after we ate the brisket and links, we walked around the corner to Memphis Minnie's to try their pulled pork, so it was a bbq taste-test feast, aka, pork for dessert. There was also the work of [livejournal.com profile] drinkasyoupour, the lovely homemade chicken and tart and shortcake for our Delores Park picnic. SF is definitely a good town for eating and books. And people. At least the ones I know. I have pictures to upload tomorrow.

This morning I had a bodywork appointment and she did lots of craniosacral therapy on me, which was weird but awesome. Afterwards I felt a bit like I'd undergone a deep visualization/contemplation while stoned. My body felt a bit like pudding, and I was ravenously hungry, so going to the grocery story afterwards was kind of odd -- I wanted to try everything, but I spent a lot of time contemplating it first, which luckily meant I managed to not put everything in the cart that caught my eye.

Work was totally dead, so I decided to cut out early and made it home just as the season finale of Lost started. I know some people are over Lost now, but between obsessing over it with [livejournal.com profile] blondestallion and [livejournal.com profile] dommeyourass, as well as after reading this site on the Time Loop Theory, I am enjoying it. Well, I guess I'm not enjoying it anymore since I probably have 5 months without it. We're also only one episode away from the season/series finale of The 4400. I've been reading the comic book series Y: The Last Man. Lately I'm all about the sci-fi. And handwriting journal entries for myself so I suppose I'm less inclined to blab it all here. But its been 8 years, I know the ebbs and flows. Hell, tomorrow I'll probably write one big mammoth long detailed post that includes stories about naked making out, the recent influx of media interest in China, kindness of strangers, spiritual re-thinking, asexuality, self-worth as tied into productivity and work and capitalism, and how badly I really wish someone would lock Hillary Clinton in a room with a pen and pad of paper to write her concession speech and end this constant media saturation that's making me nuts (I'm not speaking as an Obama-lover or a Clinton-hater, only as an innocent bystander). Well, I guess that last part is covered I have nothing more to say. The rest of it, who knows, but I'm here and I'm reading and to quote [livejournal.com profile] anjibobanji, I love everybody!
raybear: (Default)
I just realized that I'm drinking my favorite citrus power beverage (fresh juice of 1 grapefruit, 2 oranges, 1 lime, 1 lemon and 1 tablespoon of agave nectar), eating a piece of organic multigrain locally-produced wheatbread toast with avocado smeared on top, and listening to Shuggie Otis. All of these things happened individually and unconsciously, which sort of makes it more scary. I have been infected by California for real.

I watched The World According to Garp and that movie was weird. It was like a biopic of a fictional person. I know that sounds strange and could potentially describe the majority of movies, but I'm thinking specifically of the biopic formula which is the movie opening when the protagonist is born and then ends when they die as an adult. I found Robin Williams wildly inconsistent as an actor, sometimes really being great and other times being Robin Williams. And John Lithgow as Roberta wasn't horrible. I mean, she embodied some of the stereotypical ideas of transwomen (and feminine women), but on the other hand, she is shown playing football and there were no jokes about breaking nails, she interacts great with the kids and is treated as an aunt, no one in the movie ever called her by the wrong name or pronoun, and she didn't end up arrested, violated or dead. I'll take it.
raybear: (chik-fil-a)
[livejournal.com profile] tracijean is trying to bring O! back. I said I would help. She challenged me to write a poem, using O!, about Chick-Fil-A. Coincidentally, I have been reading Shakespeare's sonnets for the past month (one a day). So, apologies to actual sonnet writers everywhere, but without further caveats, I present.....


Sonnet I
by Raybear

Let me not dwell on those poor fowls' fate,
A stumbled life 'neath conveyor belts;
Nor think of global ways to innovate
Veggie diets that prevent polar ice cap melts.
My mind rests not on Christian teens
In polo shirt and peanut oil soaked
skin, from cleaning out the fryer screens --
their farm-raised job forced by us dopes.
O! I am plagued anyway by these thoughts
My conscience instructs my stomach to behave
Until the caravan arrives in the lot
And I abandon my friends with nary a wave.
The hot crunch of the coating is tasted
And tears roll down my face, elated.

raybear: (Default)
Ok, right after I posted, I went to the kitchen to get free dinner and once again, there was excitement. Tonight's fare includes chicken caeser sandwiches on asiago cheese bread (or a rosemary chicken sandwich), cole slaw with sesame-ginger sauce, waldorf salad (or whatever its called when there's apples and grapes and walnuts and blue cheese), as well as caesar side salads (which I'm passing on). For dessert, there are two whole key lime pies and a tray of cheesecake squares. I'm a little overwhelmed. I'm planning to eat one item every hour, on the hour. Starting with the waldorf salad. The walnuts are carmelized. Mmmmmm.
raybear: (Default)
On Friday night, on the way to Pollo Campero with [livejournal.com profile] mintwaster and [livejournal.com profile] broqued, Mint mentioned that she misses my livejournal reports on the free dinners at work. I said this is mostly because I pretty much eat the same rotation of decent to mediocre fare -- potbelly subs, pizza, meat and veggie skewers, and "combination and combination/vegggie platter" (as it is listed in the e-mail, which means kabob and shawerma and falafel night).

But today, I came to work and got this e-mail:
"We will be having Bar-B-Q pulled Chicken Sandwiches, Macaroni and Cheese, Baked Beans, and a Greek Salad for dinner."

The full story, in the 6 o'clock hour.

ETA: The food came from Hecky's. They are not my favorite bbq place, because most all their dishes are done in a style that is not my first preference. However, it was still better than most of the food here lately!
raybear: (Default)
I fcking love brussel sprouts. Specifically the ones I'm eating right now. Which I just chopped the ends off, threw them in a pan with a bunch of olive oil and a bunch of 'italian seasoning' in a high oven until they got all roasted. Some of the leaves that fell off, were loose in the pan, seemed sort of dark brown, maybe burnt, but I didn't care, I would eat around them. Except then I popped one in my mouth. Omg. Like crispy delicate delicious chips that melt in my mouth.

Damn, I should have taken a photo. Now they are all in my belly and less photogenic.

I've been sick all week, I'm mostly better, though I still cough some and ache a tiny bit and in the morning I feel pretty horrible from being horizontal all night, but then I drink some water and neti and poke around and it's ok. And now I'm ready to be out in the world except its cold. Now, I know its Chicago. I know its winter. I don't really complain about cold, hell, I don't really even notice 'cold' as far as any temperature 30 degrees or higher. But its damn cold today. The kind where you have to coax the car and drive with a scarf and hat, the kind where bare skin instantly gets frigid. I went to workout, on a Saturday evening, like a rockstar, and then I decided to follow it up with a trip to the grocery store. Except I forgot the damn canvas bags. So I stopped back by the house, it was on the way, I left the car running, key in ignition, went inside. "I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm not here," I told the dog dancing around me, waiting for me to notice her, our ritual. I went to the store. I counted three cars in the parking lot running, no owner. It is a part of the weather that I love, these rituals, these assumptions and trust that are usually missing in a big city, but come out for extreme circumstances.

At the checkout, I kept telling them to shove more into my bags. I knew it would all fit. They kept trying to give me extra plastic bags too. "You'll have arms like orangutans, carrying that!" I hope so, I thought.

I rush home to cook winter food. Brussel sprouts, next foil-wrapped beatsbeets in the oven. On the stove, lamb chili. Its 9 o'clock at night. I'm not that hungry. I just wanted the warmth, the smells, and also, tomorrow I can eat easily and without effort all day.

But the best part of my day, despite the tough competition of these brussel sprouts and the Wire marathon, was actually figuring out the problem with my novel that I've been marinating on for nearly 6 weeks. It apparently required me to chant excessively "what's your ticking clock? what's your ticking clock?" while clicking a ball point pen to the point of annoying myself. Suddenly all the pieces of plot realigned and made sense. Now I'm all excited about it again.
raybear: (chik-fil-a)
Ham, Potato and Chard Soup: At one point while steaming the swiss chard, the water was really really red and I got kinda excited that when I added the potatoes, it would be PINK SOUP. But it wasn't. Its just a regular stewy soup color and texture. Its somewhat tasty. Nothing amazing that I will be replicating exactly, but I might adjust it. I will eat this pot all and enjoy it. Plus there's lots of leafy greens in it, so it feels healthy, despite all the ham and ham broth.

Sweet Potato Spoon Bread: This wasn't the consistency I thought it would be at all. I thought it would be like bread pudding. This was more like twice-baked sweet potatoes with leeks sauteed in butter and goat cheese. Um, delicious. This I will be making again.

Bourbon Berry Pie: Its the best cobbler of my life. Which is a nice way of saying, I didn't adjust the thickener accordingly so its super super juicy and runny. Which means I am eating it all up with a spoon in a bowl. Even so, I'm proud of my first homemade pie crust. Mark Bittman did not fail me!

_______

Speaking tangentially of food, [livejournal.com profile] dommeyourass saw a commercial the other day where a group of guys travel to the next town over to eat Popeye's because there isn't one near them. I think someone at their ad agency was reading our blogs about Chick-Fil-A.
raybear: (scream)
I can't stop tongueing the smooth gold crown. My mouth is perplexed by this metal presence, curious as to whether it will really work as satisfactorily in grinding up plant matter and such. My brain is amused at my robot mouth.

Therapy was cancelled today (not by me) and I was going to attend yoga instead, but I worked out intensely yesterday and my back is slightly swollen because of it. So I'm staying indoors, with an ice pack, and writing and cooking instead. Mostly cooking, but I will push out some pages during my waiting times.

On the menu for today:

Ham, Potato and Chard Soup. Based on Portuguese kale and potato soup, but using up the hambone and remnants.
Sweet Potato Spoon Bread. As recommended by [livejournal.com profile] drinkasyoupour.
Bourbon Berry Pie. My own concoction, inspired by the movie Waitress. Though I suppose I should really then name it something like Fighting January Doldrums Pie.

This is a bit ambitious for my usual stylings, doing all three of these things at once, though none of them are particularly complicated. I have faith.

At least until I come back here a few hours later and change the name to Crying in the Kitchen Pie.
raybear: (mr. lunch)
When I stepped on the train today, every passenger was sleeping except this one guy, who was kinda staring at me. For a moment, I thought there was a gas leak. Or that the one guy awake has somehow gone around and poisoned all the other passengers between stops. Then I decided to stare out the window instead of constructing gruesome fantasies, and the guy got up at the next stop and I realized that he was probably gay and was trying to figure out if I was probably gay too. Probably, I am.

I have two follow-up reports.

Number one: bacon salt. This morning I had a poached egg on toast, with bacon salt sprinkled on top. It was ok. Maybe my expectations were too high. It didn't really taste like bacon, though definitely more than maybe bacos taste like bacon. However, I did enjoy it as a spice concoction. I think it will be most amazing in things like collard greens and black-eyed peas, and maybe even added to cornbread mix or macaroni and cheese, too. I still have "peppered" bacon salt and "hickory smoke" bacon salt to try, and maybe I will love them more. I also bought some french fries at the store today -- I want to try bacon-salted popcorn too. On the whole, I would say this is a welcome addition to the spice cabinet, but not so amazing that I would insist everyone I know go buy it. If you are curious about it, I will gladly give you some to try and you can see for yourself, just bring over a little baggie when you come to my house.

Number two: the Y. I officially joined today, at the Lakeview location. I felt a bit overwhelmed by this Y, partly because its really difficult to find the exercise room with all the machines. Once I found it, I was fine. It was also a bit overstimulating, because they had large screen tvs, playing different shows with captions (or you could tune your headphones to an FM channel to hear it) but there was also music piped in, as well as just the general mechanical sounds of all those treadmills and whatnot. I had my ipod on and had to turn it up kinda loud to drown things out. I also saw a lot of naked men today. Mostly they were walking by me, or I was walking by them, it was quick, but at the end of my workout, I went to my locker and of course, right across from me was a naked man with his leg up on the bench, rubbing himself down with lotion. I get really awkward around strange naked men, because of course I want to look at their bodies (and their penises). Except I don't want to look. But I can't help it. Except I make myself not look. Except then I sneak a peek.

This is where its more noticeable in my reactions to things that I didn't grow up a guy. I would have had more experience with this by now. You could put me in a room of women in various states of undress and I would feel, for the most part, perfectly fine and comfortable with my ability to not-look or at least look very briefly and surreptitiously. And most importantly, to not blush while doing it.
raybear: (scream)
I made this flourless chocolate cake this afternoon with my brand spanking new springform pan, and when I return home from work, it will either have magically transformed into something amazing, or it will still be a pan of pudding. It was starting to brown on the edges and I didn't want to scorch it, but it definitely didn't pass the "done" test. I have a tough time with egg things it seems, whether its custards or quiches. I feel like it needed a bit more baking in a dry environment, as well as cooling, but I needed to leave for work, so I just put it back in the oven (turned off). So we'll see. Maybe it will turn out okay. Maybe I will be the idiot who couldn't make a Chocolate Idiot Cake. Though at least I wasn't like that one woman in the comments section who couldn't figure out what baking in a water bath means.

I did however make an impromptu chocolate-strawberry-bourbon bit of glaze to put on top of it though. If nothing else, I will eat all of that with a spoon.

The attorney near me who doesn't have a nickname but now I will call him The Greek. The Greek is on the phone talking about weightlifting. He gave me a whole excited spiel last night about drinking vegan protein powder. "It's just rice! I'm so regular now!" He likes to say everything at least twice. Emphasis on least. I feel lucky when he only says things twice. But as big of a doofus he is, as angry as he makes me sometimes, as frustrating his worldview can be, I kinda love the guy. I just had this thought today, that as big of a guido he is, he would totally have my back in anything that ever went down here. Not that I'm anticipating anything so dramatic in my workplace environment (I would sooner walk than get embroiled), its still kinda nice to know how to make friends with lawyers. They can be a useful bunch. Its probably just on my mind because I had to write up a little self-evaluation to advocate for getting a merit-based holiday bonus. Given that my boss used the existence of a bonus during the crappy meeting about why I couldn't get paid-vacation time, I'm maybe expecting too much. We'll see.

Ok, as I was typing this, The Greek started telling the guy on the phone about vegan protein powder too, and how bad whey powder is for you and messes up your guts. And he just said "You will digest it! I'm so regular now!" Hilarious.

Also, some office services guy delivered a 12" by 15" muffin tray to me earlier. I have no idea why. It has my last name written on it. I suspect it was for a project being handled by a previous office services employee who also has my last name, but since they laid off that whole department with two weeks notice, who knows what the hell this is for. I guess I'm having muffins for breakfast tomorrow morning.

In Other NewsTM, I can't stop adding samples to my shopping cart at Lucky Scent, even though I'm holding off on buying anything for awhile.

ETA: I came home and pulled it out of the oven and apparently I am an idiot. Because it is not a cake at all. Its weird pudding with a yellow layer in the middle. I didn't really need the 4 hour project I embarked upon to distract myself from sadness to FAIL MISERABLY. Thanks, universe.

May 2010

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