I watch surgery shows while eating. I have witnessed the fat deposits in a 400 pound man melted down and sucked through a thin tube into a bag, the mixture of blood and fat looking like a pink smoothie.
While eating.
But this shit almost triggers my gag reflex.
Maybe (probably) it's me, but let's see.
I got the new dishes yesterday, and I love them. Here is some early-morning, seven-grain hot cereal with brown sugar and milk — one of my favorite winter breakfasts.
She loves to take pictures of the food she makes like anyone gives a flying fuck she had chicken casadias last night.
The impending holiday brings out the shepherdess in me: I start looking for, then tending to, every pile of wrinkled tablecloths, every too-tiny drawer of (wrinkled) napkins.
It's really funny she'd call herself a "shepherdess" because I doubt anyone would consider themselves more cosmopolitan than her.
Whenever I see people on Househunters on HGTV complaining that there are only, like, five ginormous closets in the prospective house I start guffawing: People! You have no idea!
What, no idea how difficult it is being in the privileged upper crust of a developed nation? That must be fucking brutal.
Admittedly I do hate that frame of logic (how can you do this when there are people starving in Africa!!!) because the two seem unrelated (and are), but I hate her and this blog so anything to prove her a cunt works for me.
By the time I picked everything out yesterday at the fabric store I was exhausted. You want to get it right, you know?
I have never been exhausted after buying shit. When I go to the Warhammer store to buy paint I mull over the choices and say "yeah some Space Wolves Gray would be good" and walk out. No change in fatigue.
I try to make something special for myself for the holidays every year. It forces me to sit and think about the holidays.
Huh imagine that you doing something for yourself. I bet if you could break down her mental processes into a chart, it'd be 99% her and 1% all other things in the universe.
Ironically, the dishes we use every day here at Paulson Place are seriously boring. White. Plain. Heavy.
Sounds utilitarian. Nothing wrong with being practical-- ha, ha just kidding. This is a cunt I'm talking about. So how much did you pay for your latest set?
(That china is sooooo fancy. I know we should use it more; they always say to use it more. But I am a little terrified of it.)
Maybe that was an attempt at humor that is lost on me, but how can you be a little terrified?
Also terrified of china? I can't imagine what you'd be like if you had to face actual adversity. What do you do when you're at a four way spot and someone steals your turn to go? I bet that's a straight up panic attack.
And, while I have no time to make a runner, I don't think I will be able to not make this runner because it is G*O*R*G*E*O*U*S and it is calling to me.
Ever had one of those yawns that you invariably got in school because it was mad fucking boring, then when it ends your vision is a little blurry and you have one of those groggy "I didn't sleep enough" headaches? That's what this just did to me.
Thank you to everyone who came out to Powell's last night for my book signing!
Further proof that getting published is about as hard as not getting your dick caught in your jeans zipper.
It was really, really fun. I get so very nervous about things like that because my friends and family can tell you what a total utter wally I am when I have to stand up and talk in front of people. Quel nightmare.
Quel gag reflex.
It's like, remember that Jodie Foster movie Nell? That's me.
Oh so you were raised in an isolated section of backwater Washington(?) with only your mentally ill mother and twin sister as company?
Just send me a SASE (self-addressed stamped envelope) and I'll sign some bookplates and send them back to you.
I always wonder why people do this. Why use the acronym if you're going to explain it immediately after that? Even complete fucking morons on AIM know not to do this. "LOL! (that means I am laughing aloud)." That never fucking happens. I guess the only logical reason you would do that is to prove you know what SASE is.
the things I didn't know and learned too late, the quiet winter afternoons with red pens and sticky notes and the Chicago Manual of Style,
Annotating your book like it's a historical document. Wouldn't MLA work better? Or perhaps your own system?
Writing a book makes you feel vulnerable in about a million different ways! Will people like it? Will they hate it? Will I make mistakes? Will I wish I could've done something different?
This is where I got the title for today's entry. That bit of wisdom came to mind.
If you've never had one, a croque monsieur is a grilled ham-and-Gruyere sandwich topped with Mornay sauce, a creamy onion sauce.
Maybe it's because my taste in food has yet to evolve past the three year old's staples that are macaroni and cheese and crackers, but I have no idea with any of this is.
What you're not? Selfless
Well at least you know it.
Where you grew up? Chaos
CHAOS. KILL THE TRAITORS.
Your favourite colour? Grayish
Holy fuck you're the most boring person ever. Gray? Gray is your favorite color?
Here's her list of movies she watches over and over again. This isn't specifically tagged as a top 10 list, but it's safe to say that if you watch it over and over, it's your favorite movie.
1. The Holiday
2. Green Card
3. Something's Gotta Give
4. Under the Tuscan Sun
5. Passion of Mind
6. Nanny McPhee
7. No Reservations
8. Kiss Me Goodbye
9. Seems Like Old Times
10. ____________________
Holy. Shit. I'm allowed to make fun of this because I guarantee my number 1 would be For A Few Dollars More followed by probably Yojimbo, so I'm allowed to make fun of this shitty list.
Seriously, Under the Tuscan Sun? You're a bint's bint.
And let me tell you, if you, like me, thought growing a giant pumpkin seemed like "fun," you've got another think coming.
Better rethink that, then.
I'm sorry it has taken me so long to get around to talking about the rest of my books on the booklist.
Wow you really think anyone gives a shit.
If you've been hanging around here for a while, you might remember that this list came together in a few stages from your recommendations. I talked about my choices here and here and then here. And now it's five months later. Egads.
Son of a fuck you have no taste in anything.
Here's your new priority reading list for Winter:
The Count of Monte Cristo, because you seem to be into romantic shit, and this is 1100 pages of romantic (the genre) literature at its best: vengeance.
Nibelungenlied, because you should be cultured in something at some point, and besides it stars a dragon slayer. How badass is that?
That's it. No way you can make it through those two over all winter. See reading real books takes a lot of time. Quality reading is like some of those cakes you make where you explain the complex texture. It's exactly like that.
As you probably know, Jane is a voracious reader and a champion baker (among her other many talents).
More related than you might think, I'd like to add.
Holy shit I have to stop. This is so goddamn boring I can't see straight. I'd rather cut off my own left hand than continue reading this. Fuck.
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