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!

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).

Dirt and Tulle

August 24th, still-dark-in-the-morning, the day I leave for Burning Man... Yep, this seems like the perfect time to recap July's challenge and talk to you about August's.

0.o

(That's my most favorite emoticon, by the way.  I challenge you to try to make that face in real life.)

What can I say?  The month got away from me.  Between work and friends and summer and strange (strange but attractive) people living in my house, I have been busier than a one-legged woman in an ass-kicking contest and between me, you and the fencepost, I have got to find better ways to manage my time.  Or I just need to learn to say "No!"  I cram my life, nearly every day, with 47 things to do.  I have lost the ability to just ... be; to have "Heather Time."  When I'm not at work, I MUST DO ALL THE THINGS AND SEE ALL THE PEOPLE!  Basically I cram my life so full of "busyness" that I leave no time for "stillness".  And let me tell you, folks, I am feeling the effects of that.  In my brain.  I feel like I'm losing myself in the shuffle of my life.  I am always going and rarely stopping to, I dunno, smell the fucking roses or something.  I can wax philosophical about this and get all self-analytical, which I would genuinely like to do in another post, but for now...

I'M GOING TO BURNING MAN IN MERE HOURS, PEOPLE!  Hours!  Today is the day!  I am packed, organized and I want to leave right now.  I've spent all week preparing for this most epic trip:

"What are you up to?"
"Oh, not much, just trying on weird shit for Burning Man."

This fedora?  Yeah, it is made of sequins, it lights up and flashes.  I want to wear it every day.  But only with the goggles on as well.  Obv.

A few days ago my living room looked like this:

Yes, that is a pile of tulle, why do you ask?

And now it looks like this:

Them motherfuckers is ZIPPED!

If you can't tell, I'm ridiculously excited about this trip. I honestly have no idea what to expect.  I'm a bit concerned about this whole "sudden dust storm" business, but I'm already picturing the worst environment imaginable, expecting the worst, and I'm still smiling like a goon.  I long for the experiences in life --whether they be good or bad -- and even if I'm dirty and gross and eating dirt every day, I'm going to be with a phenomenal group of people and I look forward to eating dirt with them.  At Burning Man.  'Cause that's where I'm going, Burning Man.  Burning. Man.  Man of Burning.

SQUEEE!

Ok, ok... challenges.  July was no swearing and work out every day.  I believe I made it three days without swearing at all, and those were not consecutive days.  It was much more difficult than I had anticipated.  I did exercise every day though, so yay me.  I succeeded with a challenge.

This month is "no caffeine", which I quickly edited to "no coffee, Red Bull, or soda, but I can still drink tea and chew Midol by the fistful."  It's going pretty well.  I've had a half a cup of coffee a few times, but once again, I accomplished what I wanted to when I started the challenge, which was to break the habit -- the *need* for a cup of coffee to start the day.

I was also going to do this whole thing about how I need to find ways to be more positive, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, but yeah ... I didn't have time for that shit.  Who has time to think about being positive?  Get a hobby, people.

I have so much more I want to write and I wish I would have found the time to do so over the course of the month, but alas ... I must go to BURNING MAN!

Maybe next month should be "Do Less Stuff" and then I could blog more about ... doing ... nothing.

Meh.  It'll never happen.

Overheard at My House Tonight

"I'm ready for some meat."

Peaches

Hi there, Blog Readers!  Long time no chat, eh?  Did you miss me?  I sure did miss you!  I had a shitty commute home from work today, so I decided upon my (delayed) arrival home that I would go to the pool with a to-go-jug-of-wine (ok, it wasn't a "jug" so much as a "mug", but whatever), go for a swim, soak up some evening sun and unwind.

Ahhhh....
this is SO much better than sitting on 66.

Disguiser of Wine.

I have achieved a state of unwound and would say I am, well, not quite drunk, but really, really happy.  Happy, happy, happy.  I love my pool.  Last weekend I had wonderful friends over to swim in my pool (ha ha: "my" pool) and I'm hoping to do the same again this weekend.  Why did I waste all of those years worrying about what I looked like in a bathing suit?  That was dumb.  I plan to make up for it by swimming AS MUCH AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE for the rest of the summer.

(Please forgive typos because wine.)

Anyway.  I'm not here to talk about my bathing suit; I am here to catch up.  I never plan to go this long without blogging, but sometimes life gets in the way.  My sister moved in, completely destroying my way of life.

That's not true at all.  It has been the smoothest, easiest transition ever.  Truth be told, it didn't even feel like a transition ... it kinda felt like she's always been here.  (Not unlike a barnacle.)  We're so similar in our temperaments, interests, giggle habits, etc.  It's like we're siblings or something.  Weird.  She is gone this weekend, so I am catching up with friends, getting drunk (apparently) and watching "An American Werewolf in Paris" (pronounced "pair-ee", FYI.  'murrica).

Life has been weird lately, man.  Mostly work.  June 30 is my nine-year anniversary at my company.  NINE YEARS, people.  That's nine cat lives or something.  I am in the midst of a lull at work, meaning I have fuck-all to do.  I am trying to do some training and reading up on shit I'm not terribly familiar with, and I just applied to yet another fucking college where I will be getting a Graduate certificate in ... shit.  I don't remember.  Basically IT management or something.  Computer Science shit.   I used to be able to tear a computer down to its base components -- the motherfucking motherboard, ya'll -- and rebuild it, but that was back in my military days and I don't remember that shit now.  Anyway.  I'm rambling because wine, but I'm excited about the classes.  "The more you know..." and all that.

But work.  I hate being bored all day, not contributing.  When I am not productive at work, I don't feel productive in life.  I feel guilty and my brain gets all mushy and I feel ... guilty.  Even thought it's not my fault, guilt.  I wish I could say I don't take my work home with me, but that would be a lie and I am a terrible liar.  The worst.  I know things will get better, but in the meantime... UGH.

So.  Last month's challenge.  Get rid of all the things!  Seriously, guys, it was hands-down, no contest, fo' sho', my favorite challenge so far.  It was so cathartic getting rid of the random shit I have held on to for years because ... nostalgia.  Or something.  Every day I was excited to go through shit and weed out the crap (ok, maybe "excited" is a stretch).  I got rid of WAY more than 30 things and will likely continue to cut the chaff.

A friend asked if my month of "no unnecessary spending" changed how I spend/approach money and ... meh ... not really.  But you know what did?  The fucking month of getting rid of shit.  How did I accumulate so much SHIT?  Why did I ever think I needed so much shit?  It's hard not to get all wrapped around the axle when I look around and think, "My gawd, how much money did I spend on all of this ... stuff."  Makes me want to vomit.  Just a little.  But there's no use regretting shit, right?  What's done is done and all we can ever do is deal with what's in front of us.  There 'here and now' and all that jazz.  I have said "shit" a lot in this post.  I should use other words.

(Man, wine.  I am a lightweight.  I should, like, eat some food or something.)

So did I learn from the experience?  Yeah, for sure.  I mean that shit.  I am not naive enough to say, "I WILL NEVER SHOP AGAIN", but I have vowed that if I buy something new, I have to get rid of something.  I mean that shit.  (I said, "I mean that shit" twice in a few short sentences.  I'm not even going to change it because ... I mean that shit.)

There are not nearly enough pictures in this post.  So here is a picture of my brother, wearing my sunglasses.

Yeah, that's right.

(Sister, I drank all the wine.  I'm sorry.)

(I don't think I'm going to make it to the gym.)

Edit:  If you're wondering about "Peaches" ... I put frozen peaches in my wine as ice cubes because I'm classy like that.

A Little Bit Country, A Guest Post

I used to have this ugly-ass birdhouse.  In my living room.  You know, for decoration.   Like you do.  I gave it to my folks to put in their backyard with the other birdhouses and I asked my dad to send me a picture of it in its new home so I could add it to the blog.  This is what he sent me....

  I don't think there's anything left to say here.

No High Fructose Corn Syrup!

As promised in that last post, our creation...

First, supplies.

Lubrication.  And lettuce.

IMPORTED FROM SPAIN!

You might not think we need Ketchup to make a Tater Tot man,
but you would be WRONG.

Tutus:  a necessity.

S'mores cupcakes.
WE MUST BE PREPARED FOR EVERY CONTINGENCY!
(I just spelled "contingency" correctly and I'm drunk.
Don't hate.)

Supplies?  Check.
Fabulous girlfriends?  Check.
Oh, fuck stick.  Most important ingredients:

The man himself and his clothing.  Durr.

And this is why we need ketchup.

Ok, now ingredients are gathered, tots are cooked, lubrication is ... lubricating, time for assembly.

This picture is aptly named:  "assembly.jpg"

Just twinin'.

So there's absolutely no confusion about what we're doing here.
Also, "My bologna vest has a first name, it's N-A-T-H-A-N..."

It's important that Mal has a meatball bullet-shooting gun.
Pretty much goes without saying, really.

There was much giggling and an addition (and removal) of meatball "balls", which my girls found inappropriate, much to my consternation.  But, alas, I present to you NATER-TATER:

This is like, really good.

The moral of the story here?  The Bloggess is a treasure, tater tots are delicious, wine is happiness, my friends are wonderfully fun and silly and I feel incredibly lucky and blessed to have them (Drunk Heather = I LOVE EVERYONE Heather), Nathan Fillion (urg) needs to fondle some damn twine already, and most important of all, absolutely everyone needs a tutu.

Storage is complicated.

And, perhaps, a picture of themselves awkwardly holding twine:

Awwwwkward. 
Or:  Why am I still single?