Smashed Assholes

So I'm sick, right?  Got some sort of plague (again).  I get it.  I'm probably not looking my best right now, but I swear to, like, something really powerful -- like a really big chainsaw -- that if one more person at work says something along the lines of, "Wow.  You don't look so good."  Or, "You look like you're going down for the count."  I'm going punch them in the vagina.  Even if they don't have one.

I GET IT!

When I first got to work this morning I was greeted with, "You sound awful, but you look nice."  DID YOU HEAR THAT, OTHER CO-WORKERS?  Either you say something nice or you say nothing at all!  (...no vagina punching for that guy.)

Since I haven't been able to taste anything since Sunday night-ish, my challenge to TASTE ALL THINGS is going by the wayside.  It happens.  I tried.  I don't have the energy to shop or cook or eat anything but carbs.  I don't really move much more than necessary or try make myself look presentable (apparently).  I'll have to eat more things in December.  I don't see that being much of a problem.  Food, good.

It's 8:00.  The very minute the clock strikes 8:30, I am taking two NyQuil and going to bed.

NyQuil. ♥

P.S.  I promise I won't turn this into a Blog of GIFS.  It's a passing attraction.  It will, uhh, pass.

Balls

I am thankful for wine.  Mostly because I am drinking it right now.  I am also thankful for balls.  I had bunch in my mouth yesterday.  Been a while since I had balls in my mouth.  Stuffed in my mouth.  My balls also had sausage.

I can fit so many balls in here!

Tsk.  Not *those* kind of balls.  Get your dirty minds out of the gutter.  Stuffing balls.  Sausage stuffing balls.  For Thanksgiving.  I started with this:

Tube o' meat.  Appetizing.

And then I added a bunch of other stuffing-related ingredients (I should start a cooking blog).  The end result is supposed to be something along these lines:

Balls all up in my mouth.

Mine were shoved in the back corner of the oven because nobody cared about my Heather-friendly, sausage-laden balls, so they turned out more like hockey pucks than scrumptious, springy, chewy balls, but that didn't keep me from eating about 17 of them.  (I was able to eat so many because nobody else would touch my balls.  Sigh.)  I even had one with breakfast.  And another for lunch.  What can I say?  I love balls.  They're fun and delicious.

And now I want to go for a 5-mile run.

I don't run.

It's about 3ish in the afternoon and I've been trying to work since about 10 this morning.  No, true story.  I had a plan and everything.  It morphed into I WANT TO GET DRUNK, but even before that, my attempts at work-related activities were going something like this:

I am bad at working on the "weekends".

Good intentions, man.  Good intentions.  I was going to map the shit out of some maps.  And now my afternoon is pretty much this:

Just swap the limo for the couch in mom's basement and the pizza with balls
and add a TV playing "Fringe" re-runs.

It's hot as fuck in this basement, FYI, so I wish I was in a limo right now with the windows down, wind blowing through my very, very long short-ish hair (that I just cut again on Tuesday - I'm giving up on that whole "growing it out" thing.  Fuck hair.  Who needs a ponytail when one owns 14 baseball caps?)  I feel like a hot, disgusting, stuffed turkey, so I just downloaded a workout video and as soon as I am full of less wine, I'm going to workout like WHOA.  (... probably not too much 'whoa' because I am a little drunk and full of balls.  I'll take a little 'whoa' over no 'whoa' at all.)

P.S.  I <3 GIFS.

Milla Jovovich, I Love You

This is how I decide what to stream on Netflix:

Scroll ... scroll ... scroll ... "This looks terrible."  *clicks play*

Right now I'm watching Faces in the Crowd:  "Milla Jovovich stars..."

I read no further; they had me at Milla Jovovich.

This is not going to be a good movie.

In other news, my brother had a birthday this year!  (<-- You know what?  I'm not even going to correct that.  What is wrong with you, Brain?  He had a birthday this year, but not last year when he got stuck in that quantum time trap and did not age?  Stupid brain).  Moving on... he had a birthday last week, turning the ripe old age of 36.  (Oh, wait... that's the age I'll be turning this year.  How sad for me.)  27.  He turned 27.  I think.  It might have been 26.  I am old; I don't remember things as well as I used to.

I got all artsy with his berfday card.

Talent.  So much talent contained in one individual.
I'm a good speller too:  HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

It looks like Billy is taking that little ox on a walk up the hill, but it's actually supposed to be a little inset picture, magnifying the ox tattoo he's getting on his arm. 

...

Ok, so he's not getting an ox tattoo on the arm and frankly, I think his arm will be the lesser for it.  He is, however, getting a new tattoo courtesy of Heather's Checking Account.  (Tattoo TBD.)  I like to support my siblings' growing tattoo collections.  My sister's most recent, for example:

So, that's not her actual tattoo.  I can't find a picture of her actual tattoo, but that's what it looks like.  Phylogenetic tree.  Fancy.

Things I have eaten recently:  collared greens (delicious), vegan "steak & cheese" (surprisingly delicious), vegan "mac & cheese" (amazingly delicious), made some bean soup (everything I make is delicious), persimmon (squishy), olive (DO NOT LIKE), jicama (weird), fried jalapeno thingie (I love jalapeno thingies), bread with basil and prosciutto (DO LIKE), quinoa and black bean recipe (did I mention that everything I make is delicious?), some odd vegetable from the Whole Foods salad bar -- the name eludes me at the moment (see above about age).

And that's what's going on with me.

Also, I want a new tattoo.

Also also, that movie was horrendous.  1-star.

People are Weird

Amirite?  People are weird?  For example, have you ever heard of "Cat Breading" or "Breading a Cat"?  Probably not, because it's fucking weird.

Fine, I'll admit it... the first time I saw this I almost peed myself with laughter.

Still, I don't like my cat much and I jump on any chance I get to torture her (vacuum cleaner, broom, getting her groomed to look like a wee, little lion, etc.).

I am not enjoying my haircut, human.

Naturally, when I was introduced to the bizarre world of bread + cats, I took a flying leap onto that yeasty cat-breading wagon.

Kristy prepares the bread for the attack.

I figured the best time to attempt this was when Snickers was engaged in her favorite activity:
eating.

"Human, what are you doing?  Stahp!  Do not want bread."
She may be rather zaftig, but she's spry.

And we're done.
And I am left with many scratches, which I probably deserved.
Totally worth it.

I had yummy fancy fig newtons today and a weird chicken potsticker thing that was less tasty than the fig newton.  I am being a bit lame with this whole "try new foods" thing, but there's time yet!  I will do better!

Sloppy Swish

This is how I feel about life today:

Everything is stupid.

On a happier note, I tried mussels for the first time last night and they are DELICIOUS.  If it wasn't for that pesky swimming pool of butter they were floating in, I might have stolen the pot from my friends, ran screaming from the restaurant, "GET OUT OF THE WAY!  I HAVE STOLEN A POT OF MUSSELS AND I WANT TO EAT THEM ALL UNINTERRUPTED AND ALONE!", and slurped them down in a dark alley, giggling maniacally.

(Look, it's a weird day.  Play along.)

The evening is looking up as I am on  my second glass of wine, I'm on my way to trivia AND I get to hang out with my brother Thursday night.  Woo.  Also, SNL finally came through with The Funny.  If you haven't seen this bit yet, stop what you are doing and watch it immediately.  You will thank me later.

Mokiki does the sloppy swish.

You're welcome.

Shirlington Ho s

In today's blog post, I am going to share my Saturday adventures with you.  My seester came to visit for the weekend and much fun was had by all.  Shenanigans galore (I'm going to skip the telling of the "shenanigans" that involved laying on the couch in baggy sweatpants and stick to the fun bits).  This tale will largely be told in picture form, because we took a lot of damn pictures.

We began the day's adventures with a late breakfast at Busboys & Poets.  I had chili, Kristy had mimosas.

Ok, I had mimosas too.

Happy, in a mild mimosa fugue state, we camped out in a local Starbucks (the mild, mimosa fugue state only lasts so long before the extreme post-mimosa sleepy state settles in), where Kristy did some homework (about five minutes worth, as a matter of fact) and I did a hours and hours wee bit of work-work.   I'm sure you're not surprised to hear that we didn't get much actual work done, but our grand intentions should count for something.  We did enjoy each other's company, as well as the many silly things we found on Reddit.

As our breakfast was more of a brunch we didn't have an actual lunch, and after exhausting ourselves with all the hard work and whatnot, we were starving by 5ish.  We headed off to Jaleo -- a spectacular Spanish tapas place in Crystal City -- at 5:30 to have dinner.  With the rest of the geriatrics.

Our first course was sparkling white sangria.

According to Kristy:  "This tastes like heaven."
Also, "It looks like we're drinking vegetables.  There's a lot of green."

Next came the tiny cheese with tiny breads with tiny spreads.  And more sangria.

Heather says, "This cheese is the most disgusting thing I have ever put in my mouth."

(says Kristy)

Needing meat (*wink*) in addition to the sangria (and mostly just to expel the horror that was the taste of goat cheese out of my mouth forever), I ordered spicy chorizo wrapped in potatoes and my oh-so-very-favorite, fried dates wrapped in bacon (why yes, they are as amazing as they sound).

I look the same in every single picture ever, so here, the important things:
booze and fried bacony goodness.

In honor of my I WILL TRY LOTS OF NEW THINGS month, I threw caution to the wind and ordered Conejo En Salmorego Con Pure De Albaricoques, or Canary Island-style (tiny, fluffly, adorable) rabbit confit with apricot puree.

Skeptical Heather is skeptical.

But Heather, the charming and graceful eater that she is, dug in with gusto.  (Why do I keep referring to myself in the third person?)

Does my mouth need to be open that wide?

And you know what?  Cute, sweet, fluffy little bunnies ARE DELICIOUS!

On the outside I looked like this...

... but on the inside, my mouth and tummy were doing this.

Dessert seemed like the next course of action (see what I did there?), but looking at the dessert menu, we were flummoxed.

Kristy:  I DON'T UNDERSTAND ANY OF THE WORDS HERE.

Truth be told, we were in such a happy, blissful sangria state, it didn't matter much what we ordered.  We had something with apples in some kind of sauce in some kind of magical bread pouch-thing and it was scrum-diddly-umptious.

And finally we were done and full and happy and in need of HOOKAH.  Off to Andalusia we went.  A tea and hookah joint, to be precise.  Hookah.  Tea.  Hm, I see hookah, and tea, but... but... where's the WINE?!  Alas, wine was not to be had at Andalusia, but I will say the hookah was top-notch, as were the random friends we made while sitting outside, enjoying the night and our shisha.  (Or however you spell that.)

Still, we were sad to lose our sangria-induced happiness and being the classy ladies we are, we (we being "I") popped over to the 7-11 and bought a few small bottles of wine, which we sipped surreptitiously throughout the evening.   All class, my friends, all class.

We rounded out the evening with yet more wine at Capital City Brewery in Shirlington and had grand plans to head back to the homestead after finishing our drinks and end our evening with a rousing bout of Dance Central on the XBox, but instead, we went immediately to sleep.  Immediately.  I don't think we could have managed to turn on the XBox, much less rustle up enough coordination to play any sort of game.  Unless it was a sleeping game; that we would have rocked at.

Shit, we couldn't even manage a decent self-portrait.

"Kristy, why can't you get your head in there?"

....alllllmost.

"Kriiisty, I don't want a solo picture."

"Here, I'll take the picture."
See, perfect.

As good as it's going to get.  At least that night.

(OHFORTHELOVEOFGODANDALLTHATISHOLY!  It should not be this difficult to format multiple pictures at once.  Make this better, Google!)

And that was our very fun Saturday.  Our Sunday involved the couch, the television and not much else.  Totally worth it.

To go back to the challenge a bit, here are some other things I have tried this month:  a new chili recipe, duck (at a Peking Duck place -- I'm glad I had the experience, but I find it perfectly acceptable to never eat duck again.  Bring on the wabbit!), chocolate covered edamame (do not want again).  Um, shit.  Wait, no, I didn't eat shit.  I meant "Shit!" in an exclamatory fashion because I can't remember any of the other things I've tried this month.  Next post... (which will be a less boozey post).

This is where I live and would now, and forever more, like to be known as a "Shirlington Ho" (..s).

I Am Drunk (With My Sister)

Yay.  Wheee.

:)