Screw you March...

Ok, really- March can go straight to hell. I know last month I bitched about how much I hated February but really I hate all Februaries. Which by the way- doesn't Februaries look like a totally fucked up word? It doesn't look real, it's freaking me out yet my spell check is telling me it is a word.

Anyways, March I hate for an entirely different set of reasons. All of them personal, lets see there is the broken heart bullshit (which is still making me sad and cry-y), I got my ladytime TWICE (double the cramps, double the exhaustion, etc), work deadlines that made me stresses, feeling like I don't have any direction, questioning myself and general fucking malaise.

Right now I'm drinking whiskey to sooth the cramps, and wishing that I had some mayonnaise to make damn chicken salad. Oh and doing laundry since I've reached Danger! levels when it comes to clean underwear.

Shall we now discuss the other bullshit reason that March sucks balls? They fucking canceled Jericho again. Yes. Wankers. One of the best shows on TV, it consistently rocks the house and it brings the pretty (in the form of Jake and Stanley). I know I had a reprieve last year when it magically rose from the dead (like Jesus) because of it's devoted fans but I fear this year there is no hope. Stupid CBS.

But in the interest of not being all whiney and bitchfaced in this post I'll post some photos from cooking club. I've not posted cooking club photos in while out of sheer laziness, but we've been trucking along each month as always.

Nancy making pasta:

Kate, chopping:

Rolls that I made for dinner:

Crab and avocado salad with blood orange vinegarette:

Sweet potato soup with peanuts and lime:

Roasted balsamic vegetables:

Spinach and ricotta stuffed pasta:

Hummingbird cake:

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Lots random bits...most rant-filled

So terribly I had my heart broken this last weekend by the boy I mentioned way back in January. Privately, there was lots of crying. Oh the crying. It went on and on. The next morning I looked like I had been beaten roundly about the eyes. They were so puff-tastic they were doing that thing were they have become so swollen it actually looks like your eye lashes have curved under and are now growing from inside the lid.

I don't know if I'm stuck in a place of total and complete denial but I'm actually doing quite ok these last 2 days. The distraction of work has had a soothing effect on my psyche, so really I'm going to keep going forward with the plan to remain wickedly busy in order to hold my shit together.

Enough of the self-pitying rambling, lets engage in a little bit of ranting- shall we?

First off I'd like to take a brick to any tv chef who utters the words "Pre- (insert word here)". This could be used in reference to a multitude of sins, "pre-shredded cheese", "pre-washed greens", "pre-cooked chicken", etc.
Listen people, pre-shredded cheese is in fact a BLOCK OF CHEESE. Pre-cooked chicken is RAW CHICKEN.

The prefix "Pre" refers to the state of the item before you performed the action. This is simple English usage, and baby Jesus knows I'm not the best with complicated English rules- but this is a fairly simple concept to grasp.

Why use the term "pre-shredded"? Some marketing genius somehow believed that it added a certain value or cache to their product, or perhaps someone thought it made them sound cool and like they were giving you a hint on how to cut down time in the kitchen.

It's dumb. It pisses me off. The end.

In that same vein of stupidity put forth by marketing and advertising geniuses; I say that knowing full well I work in the marketing world- we're great but some of the shit we come up with is completely fucking ridiculous, as evidenced by the following:

Really, 100% Beef?

What is your implication here? Perhaps before you didn't used 100% Beef? Do I really want to conjure up ideas about what you were using before you loudly declared that you use 100% beef?

Or are you trying to imply that your competitors don't use 100% beef in their hamburger patties?

The simple fact is that you could have used this term effectively for me if you'd added the qualifier 'American' or 'Grade A', but there is also the distinct possibility that you can't make that claim at all. I don't know where McDonald's beef comes from or what grade it is. This is all part of their new "healthy and fresh" makeover that they are trying to give us. For me, it doesn't work. I will never go to McDonald's and think that I'm eating healthy. I go to fast food joints for the exact opposite reason, sometimes one needs a bit of greasy, fat-filled food with a large fountain coke. (The perfect cure for those wickedly bad hangovers.)

This whole thing made me tool about on their website, and I have to say I'm annoyed by the implication that only mom's eat salads. Men eat salads, damnit. Why couldn't you have phrased that as "parents who bring their kids in for a happy meal." Eating salad is GIRLY, way to reinforce dumbass stereotypes. Men don't eat vegetables!

And lastly, 1 in 4 teenage girls has an STD. OH! SCARY! Lets talk about how 1 in 4 teenage girls have STDs, AND NEVER FUCKING MENTION HOW MANY TEENAGE BOYS HAVE STDs. I'm not some crazyass feminist conspiracy theorist but come on! Those teenage girls aren't giving STDs to each other, they are only half the equation. But no is talking about the boys and their STD rates, to me it just smacks of shaming female sexuality and blaming them for when really it takes two to get an STD. Why aren't we having an open discussion about males and their rate of infection? In all the articles I read and news stories I saw never once did anyone bring up teenage boys.

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Perfection; in relation to happy hour

Last night I was watching TV and there was commercial that caused me to stop and laugh for good 10 minutes. I also happened to be on the phone and luckily my phone companion thought the commercial I saw was as awesome and hilarious as I did (and wasn't annoyed that I was watching TV while on the phone with him).

And what was this a commercial for? Tudor's World of Biscuits.

Shall I repeat that? Tudor's World of Biscuits. A world of biscuits, people. A whole world, how have I never known that such a place exsisted?

I like biscuits, perhaps I will take a trip to this Tudor's World of Biscuits since they are franchise and are scattered over the region (apparently). I love a good biscuit, I mean- who doesn't? I would probably think you were a zombie or alien if you didn't.

Here is the thing, I'm a little drunk. Actually I'm the perfect amount buzzed. You know where things are lovely around the edges yet I'm not ridiculously screaming at random college students on the street about how they are dressed (which would be 'like sluts').

The only problem is now I'm starving and tired. Yet, I've eaten two very sizable pieces of pizza and yet the belly is still clamoring for more. I could make myself a salad, but who the fuck eats a salad when they are drunk? It's not exactly the perfect drunk food, more like the worst drunk food. Whipping up a dressing seems like something I would mess up in my slightly altered state (and no, I don't own bottled dressing- so that isn't an option). So I'm pretty much screwed on the food front- I don't have any good snackable items on hand. Damnit.

Tired? Oh yes, I'm wiped out. Too many late nights this week (hello after midnight bedtimes!). Not the best idea, I'm just sleepy.

Ok, I'm off to forage in the kitchen. I know I've got some frozen corn, but again frozen corn does not a good snack make.

Also where have all my readers gone? Too much erratic posting? Lame entries that don't inspire comment at all? I'm sure it is all of these things and for that I'm sorry.

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Today I didn't even have to use my A.K.

I got to say it was a good day.

Perhaps I'm just on a sunshine/warm weather high. It is amazing what tempatures of 65 degrees with sun can do for one's disposition. The weather I doubt is about to stick around for long but it was enough of a reminder that spring isn't too terribly far away (one hopes).

It was the sort of Sunday so desperately needed, the morning hours were spent playing with a friend's adorable baby. And as a bonus she has a super fancy espresso maker and honestly crafts the best latte I've ever had. It was splendid, perfection, coffee nirvana. It's is amazing how far I've come as a coffee lover in the last year or so. I've gone from someone who rarely drank it to a person who clearly has a deep and abiding love of it. (Yet, I still don't own a coffee maker at home, try to figure that one out- it makes little to no sense. Then again I never claimed to be the most logical of the bunch.)

Lattes and adorable babies, was it possible for the day to get any better?

Yes, because the temp continued to rise and after a quick trip to the grocer I spent the warm sunny afternoon hours reading. Look I have proof of the glorious sunshine.

Ok, I seriously should probably stop talking about the lovely weather. But forgive me because it has made me punch drunk, like an addict who has been in serious DTs getting their first sweet, sweet hit in a long time.