January 30, 2004 at 2:48 pm
(meme)
It’s been a while, but whiskey-tango-foxtrot…
You have just won one million dollars (woo! yeah baby!!):
1. Who do you call first?
The Grand Poobah, of course.
2. What is the first thing you buy for yourself?
The only material thing I’m lusting after, besides a cabin in the woods with a nice fireplace and plenty of room for bookshelves, is a brass bed. So the bed would be the first thing on my list.
3. What is the first thing you buy for someone else?
A leather club chair with matching ottoman from the store of His choice for The Grand Poobah, and probably the game table he’s been lusting after as well.
4. Do you give any away? If yes, to whom?
Yes, a chunk to my parents as well as to my starving writer friends, and some mad money to The Grand Poobah just ‘cuz he’s cute.
5. Do you invest any? If so, how?
Buy land - that cabin with the fireplace and all those bookshelves is looking pretty good. I’d also pay off all my bills, my car, my student loans - eliminating debt counts as an investment - and then talk to my supercalifragilistic tax doode about how to handle the rest.
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January 29, 2004 at 3:47 pm
(fun, meme)
Thanks to Sgt. Hook for coming up with the idea! I talked smack, now I gotta back it up, so here goes:
Booze-Laden, Kick-Ass Cheater’s Chili
1 bottle Hornitos tequila (dance nekkid on the table… wait, that’s just me) or
1 bottle Glenfiddich (mellow and smoky) or
1 bottle Laphroig (sharper and peaty)
1 bottle Sam Adams (if you’re feeling persnickety) or
1 bottle Corona (change your latitude)
1.5 lbs sirloin, cubed
1 medium brown onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 humungous can of pinto beans
1 big can of kidney beans
1 big can of pinquito beans
(bean ratio should be 1 pinquito : 1 kidney : 2 pinto)
1 regular can of stewed tomatoes
2 tbsp cayenne pepper
2 tbsp cumin
2 tbsp chili powder
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tbsp cooking oil
optional:
1/3 cup masa mixed into 1/3 cup water to thicken chili, if you like it like that
2 tbsp clover honey
Heat the oil in a stockpot and quickly brown the sirloin on high. Turn the heat down to medium and add the onions, garlic, and 1 tbsp each of the cayenne pepper and the chili powder. When the onions are translucent, dump in the tomatoes and all the beans, including the juice (it’s called Cheater’s Chili, ‘cuz I don’t soak the beans overnight like my mama taught me, I just open a few cans). Stir in the rest of the cayenne and chili powder, as well as the cumin and cinnamon.
This is where the Booze part of Booze-Laden comes in and you’ll have to make a stylistic choice. If you prefer tequila to scotch, then add a bottle of Corona to the pot and let it come to a boil, then reduce the heat to low and simmer for a couple of hours with the lid slightly askew to let some of the moisture evaporate. If you prefer scotch to tequila, add a bottle of Sam Adams to the pot and do the same, then check the taste after about an hour and see if you want to add the honey - it’s a nice touch. This is also a good time to add in the masa if you prefer a thicker chili.
Once the chili has brewed and stewed and bubbled and squeaked for a couple of hours and you’re about an half hour away from ringing the dinner bell, the Laden part of Booze-Laden is deployed: stir in a couple of glugs of your choice of single-malt or jealous lady to the pot (after liberally sampling said divine beverage, of course). Let the aroma fill the air and poke all would-be samplers with a big fork until you’re good and ready to dish up.
The ubiquitous grated cheddar, chopped cilantro or sour cream are all great toppings, as is some minced green onions or crumbled queso fresco. Serve with cornbread, or garlic-roasted sourdough if you’re feeling fancy.
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January 29, 2004 at 12:41 pm
(rant)
I think Hezbollah’s announcement after the recent prisoner exchange with Israel speaks for itself: Hezbollah: Group May Kidnap More Israelis. Why, you readers three might ask? So they can free more Lebanese prisoners.
Yeah, that whole negotiation thing is really working out there, isn’t it? Next Israel will be trying to deter suicide bombers by paying for makeup artists to primp the wanna-be martyrs at their final photo shoots - make ‘em purty enough, they won’t want to die. I can see the headline now: “Hezbollah: Our Martyrs Say They’ve Never Looked So Good, Are Thrilled To Die Young And Leave A Beautiful Corpse” Wait, didn’t The Onion already run that one?
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January 28, 2004 at 2:30 pm
(writing, yum)
But then you knew that, so this should come as no surprise - my favorite blog of the moment is Stavros the Wonder Chicken / Empty Bottle because of this phrase (used as justification for beginning to blog): “…my geek cilia started wiggling…” I think I gotta make that my new sig line. Not sure if I should even give context, as those who got ‘em will understand, and those who don’t don’t need to know.
Update: And the Wonder Chicken quotes Eggers too! A few juicy ones:
–”What matters is that you do good work. What matters is that you produce things that are true and will stand.”
–”No is for wimps. No is for pussies. No is to live small and embittered, cherishing the opportunities you missed because they might have sent the wrong message.”
… girlish squeal of delight and much licking of pages to both of them! Gods I have such good taste in blogs, I amaze myself.
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January 23, 2004 at 4:57 pm
(gah)
Cap’n ‘Roo died. RIP, Cap’n ;-(
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January 20, 2004 at 1:59 pm
(rant)
This isn’t gonna be a regular post, I won’t stay on topic, and most likely none of it will make sense. But that’s okey-dokey. (It’s the new, improved, mellower me… see how long it lasts.) (Oh, about five minutes.) I’ve been reading the LA Times website, much to my mellower me’s chagrin - everything I see is making me feel disgruntled and fluffy.
“Chellie of Los Angeles thinks a “fit or fat” fee could solve both the budget and the obesity crisis. Every Californian selects a preferred diet plan — Atkins, Pritikin — and receives a membership card to show with each grocery purchase. Buying anything not on the diet plan costs a 50-cent fee. Rigorous dieters get gym membership rebates, and people who choose no diet plan must pay a $100 yearly fee.”
I don’t hate this, especially if the fees collected are put toward mitigating the public heath costs incurred by those people who simply won’t pay attention to what and how they eat, then have the nerve to be surprised when the fire department has to cut them out of their toilet, bedroom, car, whatever, in order to transport them to the hospital in the event of a medical emergency. Being freed by the Jaws of Life ain’t free, ya know. It’s a matter of personal choice and responsibility right up to the point that my tax dollars are going to pay for someone else’s poor choices and lack of personal responsibility. Same thing with the helmet laws. And yeah, that’s a broad, sweeping generalization and patently unfair to a lot of folks, but I’m all seditious and irritated about my tax burden right now, so deal with it.
And another thing that’s fucked up - finders-keepers, losers-weepers? The woman loses her dog, finds it again, only to be told it’s no longer her dog? At that point it’s called kidnapping - she should sue for emotional damages and whatever’s the most expensive charge that would result in the greatest public outcry. The new *owner* (heartless bitch) of the dog in question should be slapped upside the head and possibly smacked around a bit too - and her house should be TP’ed. What ever happened to common decency, much less a sense of honor, honesty or justice? (Yes, I get the irony in the previous two statements being strung alongside each other - reference the above fluffy and seditious state of my brainpan and deal with it.) Just because I find an empty wallet on the street and decide that I like the wallet doesn’t mean that I get to keep it if the original owner shows up - it’s still someone else’s property.
Back to my tax woes, ‘cuz I’ve gotta bitch to someone and I’ve already bitched to almost everyone I’ve spoken to on the phone recently and they’re tired of hearing about it - I changed my filing status from married claiming 8 deductions because of the house, to single claiming 2 deductions ‘cuz I am no longer landed gentry nor married. The dang-gummed gummint is taking another $800/month outta my wallet. Gol-dangnabbit revenoooers! I’m gonna go take over a small island, or possibly just a relatively stable sandbar in the middle of a wide and muddy river, and glare menacingly at anyone who looks remotely like a G-man. And I’m gonna make all my own moonshine and grow my own carrots. Anybody who doesn’t like it can shoo. Worst part is, that was my gun money. No shiny new toys for me for a while. *harrumph*
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January 7, 2004 at 4:01 pm
(writing)
As usual, her writing is as clear and eloquent as her message:
“Dissent is as alive and contentious and as rude as ever, but just because someone does not agree with you does not mean you are the spiritual heir of Mandela or Ghandi, being persecuted for your noble beliefs. It just means that they disagree with you. If you can argue your point cogently, without calling names, so much the better.”
Go read the rest - she’s wunnerful, as are the rest of the grimy greasy gopher guts (grin, duck, run-run-run, pull moss back over head) at Sgt. Stryker.
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January 7, 2004 at 2:58 pm
(life, writing)
I’ve been thinking a lot of thunk about fear and accomplishment the last week or two, as the year turned and the resolutions were resolved. I just found this entry posted at Naked Writing, and I echo almost every detail of it - I’ve quoted a huge amount of the post but not all, so go read more:
“How much time is still mine? If I get a full 75 or 80 years or if my time will simply be a shorter work, the pages of years forming a novella, or novelette or just a common, unfinished tale. At 34, it’s kind of a ridiculous thought I know — odds are I haven’t even reached the mid point of my life — but I do wonder what lives between the tick tocks of whatever time is mine. Mortality is such a pesky thing. Realizing how powerful and powerless you are within it simply produces a thought pretzel tasting of both sweet excitement and bitter fear with each twist pondered.
Really I just don’t want to make a mistake. I don’t want to be fearful and afraid within my time and therefore miss something extraordinary along the way. Silly, yes. That’s the point, not knowing. But as someone who is in control more days than others, I want to see back from “my last day” so I can tell myself on this day of all the places I need to be sure I go, the chances I must take and the people I should be sure to meet so as to get the most out of life.
Most out of Life.
Most out of Life:
“I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life…to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.””
Yeah, what she said.
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January 7, 2004 at 2:41 pm
(fun, writing)
Or, all about places The Lonely Planet can’t take you; or, what that pesky Balkan war was really about; or, the History of Spanakopita:
Spanakopita was formally established in 1914 as the result of a Greek separatist movement formed when a bunch of hot-blooded young shepherds decided they would no longer tolerate being criticized for their sheep-loving activities. The shepherds marched west, intending to herd their lovers to the New World, but grew fatigued with repeated conflicts against south-ranging Boyars.
After a particularly brutal battle cost them a much-adored ewe and her two daughters, the shepherds claimed about 42 square kilometers of a particularly grassy-hilled, cave-riddled area just east of the Pale and held it against all comers until 1953, when the Soviet Union invaded. Tragically, since the entire population of the country save a few token milkmaids (who were more interested in fondling each other’s breasts than entertaining the lanolin-smelling shepherds who wouldn’t have been able to perform sexually anyway, as the milkmaids were far too hairless to stimulate the shepherds’ tastes) was male and in their late-middle age to early senescence, there was no available rank and file of young, healthy men able to resist the Red occupiers.
The surviving population fled to France, where they rallied and reformed their government-in-exile, living happily in one of the few other countries that allowed, even encouraged, their sheep-loving activities and refusal to bathe. Sadly, time and death have attrited the once-lusty regime of glorious Spanakopita, which currently consists of a sole surviving founder who spends the remaining days of his life consulting with Provencal cheesemakers.
2 Comments
January 6, 2004 at 11:56 am
(life)
Yeah, so, I needed time to think them up - I’ve got ‘em, just like everyone else. And I’m shamelessly flaunting them. So in no particular order, here we go (there are probably more lying around in the crevices in my head, but they don’t seem to be twitching and crawling toward the light nearly fast enough, so this is it for now).
drink more good red wine
wear the sexy lingerie that’s been languishing in my dresser
buy clothes in colors besides black and grey
go for a looong walk every other day and mentally redesign all my neighbors’ houses
take swimming lessons so I can finally get the damned breaststroke right
go to bujinkan training on a regular basis
buy a shotgun and massacre lots of clay pigeons with it
find a partner for kamikaze racquetball
refuse to whine when my knees hurt
bust out my Pilates DVDs and wear the puppies out
write at least one good short story every month
write a new chapter of my novel every month
give into poetry even when I’m not supposed to
take pictures of the people I love
ache from using my body, not neglecting it
use my passport
volunteer more often
get re-certified in CPR, First Aid, etc.
take bellydancing lessons
send birthday cards
use my fountain pens (precioussses)
collect more fountain pens (precioussses)
find a proper display box for my fountain pens (precioussses)
catch up on my reading list
complete the first aid/survival kits for my car, home, and motorcycle
get black reflective flame decals for my motorcycle helmet
write one essay a week
drink enough water
lift heavy things with my legs, not my back
rent a beach cruiser and ride down the beach, aiming mostly at tourists, at least once a month
get more massages
remember to bring a hatchet when camping
go whitewater rafting down the Colorado River
explore sea caves in kayaks with people I love
listen to my acupuncturist
bend time and space to my will
hire new minions
conquer gravity
split the atom
win the Nobel Peace Prize and buy a small island with the proceeds
cure cancer
get enough sleep
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