It's Sunday night. As per usual, I'm drinking tea (sometimes substituted for wine), cleaning my room, and making a mental list of the errands to run/bills to pay/tasks to take care of during the upcoming week. The not-so-typical part of this evening? No re-runs of Kourtney and Kim take New York can be heard. Nope, I didn't temporarily give up my E! obsession for March Madness. Wake Forest isn't even in the tournament this year, damnit. In fact, I'm about halfway through the second of four movements in Mozart's Symphony #40.
This happiness challenge comes courtesy of my dear old dad. I guess he took a liking more to the "challenge" part than the "happiness" thing, although I do have to give my old man credit, this music is kinda good. I keep laughing at myself because between folding t-shirts (I hate laundry) I keep swaying my head and air-conducting. You know, waving my fingers in the air all goofy like as if I am conducting the symphony and it's not just streaming out of my dell. I'm sure it's a funny sight to see. Thankfully I'm alone in my room, and no one can actually see it.
Gotta give it to ya pops, this classical stuff is a nice change from rap. It's full of passion, strength, and energy. Not boring or stuffy at all. And that's music to my ears. Hah.
I'm officially done with Symphony 40 now, and I still have cleaning to do. Heck, I may even listen to another. Wolfgang would be so proud.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Handy Candy
This weekend while at CVS, I make the mistake of walking through the candy aisle. I should have just looked straight ahead and kept moving, like those horses in Charleston with blinders on their heads. But alas, I turned, I looked, and I was hooked.
Peanut butter M&Ms are a vice for me. A big one. If you've ready any other blog posts, my pb/choco obsession will not come as a shock to you. Plus, mainstream grocery/convenience stores don't always carry the PB variety of M&Ms (whomever makes these foolish inventory decisions should be fired), so when I do spot that b-e-a-u-ti-ful bright orange bag among the ranks of the candy display, my heart races and I inevitable scoop up a bag or two. Or, in this weekend's case, a one pound sack. I know, my gluttony is semi-gross, but they were on sale. For THIRTY NINE CENTS.
At first I assumed there was a cruel typo on the price tag, and was going to employ what little self-control I maintain in the face of such amazingness. Just to be sure though, I price-checked a bag, and after the rock-bottom cost was confirmed, I rang that sucker up quicker than you can say "sugar high." In the name of balance (and over-indulgence), I also threw in a bag of Starburst jelly beans. Some may say it's overkill, but since I got all two pounds of sugar for under two bucks, I just like to think that I jumped on the budget bandwagon. Happy Easter, kiddos.
Peanut butter M&Ms are a vice for me. A big one. If you've ready any other blog posts, my pb/choco obsession will not come as a shock to you. Plus, mainstream grocery/convenience stores don't always carry the PB variety of M&Ms (whomever makes these foolish inventory decisions should be fired), so when I do spot that b-e-a-u-ti-ful bright orange bag among the ranks of the candy display, my heart races and I inevitable scoop up a bag or two. Or, in this weekend's case, a one pound sack. I know, my gluttony is semi-gross, but they were on sale. For THIRTY NINE CENTS.
At first I assumed there was a cruel typo on the price tag, and was going to employ what little self-control I maintain in the face of such amazingness. Just to be sure though, I price-checked a bag, and after the rock-bottom cost was confirmed, I rang that sucker up quicker than you can say "sugar high." In the name of balance (and over-indulgence), I also threw in a bag of Starburst jelly beans. Some may say it's overkill, but since I got all two pounds of sugar for under two bucks, I just like to think that I jumped on the budget bandwagon. Happy Easter, kiddos.
 |
| {my tummy hurts} |
Friday, March 4, 2011
{bake me a cake as fast as you can...}
This just in: the baker's man got it wrong. Baking a cake as fast as you can doesn't actually produce a quality product. I now know this from experience. And I won't do it again.
Teacher roomie won the "who got the weirdest Christmas gift from a distant relative" contest this year. The prezzie? An oversized chocolate cupcake kit. Yeaaaaaaaaah.
Considering even the baking bowl was included in the one-stop-shop, the only ingredient requirements for the "recipe" were nine tablespoons each of vegetable oil and milk (seems suspiciously specific to me), and three whole eggs. If I wasn't feeling weird about this whole situation before, I was after I added said ingredients and attempted to stir them together. Oil and milk don't mix well, and neither were this recipe and me.
I stirred and stirred and finally just gave up and plopped the whole thing in the microwave. I spent the cooking time (yep, all five minutes of it) laughing with my roomies and trying to guess what the product would taste like. I remained semi-optimistic, despite our consensus that something starting with three raw eggs could not possibly end up edible in under thirty minutes.
I watched the whole shebang cook with my forehead pressed against the microwave (that whole brain damage side effect thing stopped years ago, right?) and was pleasantly surprised when I discovered that the final product was in fact more a solid than a liquid. But, as Snow White and the Wicked Queen taught me a few years back, appearances can be deceiving.
Yeah, the cake was gross. And not really edible. Roomies and I tried to cover the bitter, not-sweet-at-all taste with various toppings ranging from frosting to whipped cream, with little success. None of us made it past bite #5 before throwing our forks down in defeat.
Oh well. Lesson learned. Final verdict: we should change the words to "patty cake, patty cake, baker's man, take your time making a cake with an actual oven and a pan."
Teacher roomie won the "who got the weirdest Christmas gift from a distant relative" contest this year. The prezzie? An oversized chocolate cupcake kit. Yeaaaaaaaaah.
Considering even the baking bowl was included in the one-stop-shop, the only ingredient requirements for the "recipe" were nine tablespoons each of vegetable oil and milk (seems suspiciously specific to me), and three whole eggs. If I wasn't feeling weird about this whole situation before, I was after I added said ingredients and attempted to stir them together. Oil and milk don't mix well, and neither were this recipe and me.
 |
| {eggs, oil, and milk don't play well together} |
I stirred and stirred and finally just gave up and plopped the whole thing in the microwave. I spent the cooking time (yep, all five minutes of it) laughing with my roomies and trying to guess what the product would taste like. I remained semi-optimistic, despite our consensus that something starting with three raw eggs could not possibly end up edible in under thirty minutes.
 |
| {maybe our weird wisk was the problem?} |
I watched the whole shebang cook with my forehead pressed against the microwave (that whole brain damage side effect thing stopped years ago, right?) and was pleasantly surprised when I discovered that the final product was in fact more a solid than a liquid. But, as Snow White and the Wicked Queen taught me a few years back, appearances can be deceiving.
 |
| {innnnnnnnteresting} |
Yeah, the cake was gross. And not really edible. Roomies and I tried to cover the bitter, not-sweet-at-all taste with various toppings ranging from frosting to whipped cream, with little success. None of us made it past bite #5 before throwing our forks down in defeat.
 |
| {rescue attempts...unsuccessful} |
Oh well. Lesson learned. Final verdict: we should change the words to "patty cake, patty cake, baker's man, take your time making a cake with an actual oven and a pan."
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