Pick-Up Line Workshop:

Alright boys, here’s a little tip on what NOT to say as a pick up line:

GM (gross man): are these totally inappropriate for a 5 year old? (pointing to a pair of “police” hand cuffs for kids).

Me: um… a 5 year old? Probably…

GM: yeah, he’ll probably hand cuff someone and loose the key… *eyebrows like fish hooks staring* but I’ll bet you know all about that don’t you?

Me: (thinking: Huh? I don’t have a 5 year old ki..OH GROSS) *staring at him blankly*: No, I
don’t.

Feeling completely assaulted and 3 showers later, I pondered, is romance DEAD? What happened to concepts like (as intricate and difficult to grasp as it may seem) FLOWERS??? Yes, you know those colorful things on the road? PICK SOME. How is it possible that we came from: “But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun”, to a slimy, “I bet you know all about that don’t you?” WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE? Read her poetry, giver her flowers, but above all, give her sincerity, let her know that you care and reassure her that her heart will be safe with you for crying out loud. Now go, be fruitful and comply. Thus ends the lesson.

My Favorite Pastime

Woke up this morning feeling incredibly refreshed and caught up on sleep. With no dead-lines to meet; no appointments to go to; no one around and no worries of tomorrow feels quite groovy. I made my sateen bed sheets, opened the burgundy rose drapes and slumpped in my favorite chair with down pillows. With only a t-shirt on and sans make-up, I kicked up my heels up on the ottoman and surfed the net. This ritual is definitely here to stay.

All Hail the Blueberry Stilton

To buy or not to buy, that is the question K and I were confronted with while embarking on our second odyssey to Costco. In our vision was an exquisite chunk of blueberry stilton, sitting there beautifully like a slice of lavender marbled cheesecake. After much contemplation we put the Tillamook pepper jack back in its place and picked up the English blue. The stilton crumbled beautifully onto our field of greens and tasted like heaven when drenched in the raspberry vinaigrette. The blueberry morsels worked beautifully with the fruity dressing, melting in my mouth while providing a wonderful contrast against the crunchiness of the lettuce. After our first taste K and I sat on our couch and fantasized about blueberry stilton dishes. As we googled the recipes dopamine released at a rampant pace, and we were in a state of euphoria for hours…

English Rose

Had a strange dream this afternoon while napping. The plot line consisted of the following:

Chris and I were married and living with a friend of his. Somewhere in the dream sequence I was consuming rose ice cream that tasted like condense milk and roses. Chris’s friend turns out to be absolutely psychotic and wanted to kill me, so naturally, I packed up my things and started running. Chris then called me and told me to run, for he found out that his “friend” was psychotic as well. So with 2 pints of rose ice cream in my backpack I ran, and while on the run I kept passing, again and again, the same shoe store with a funny name. I finally met up with Chris and stopped running. The funny thing is, I wasn’t scared of the psychotic friend at all, but all the while I was very angry that my rose ice cream had melted in my bag and I could no longer have any. Then I woke up, came out of my room sleepy eyed, and told my roommate about my dream. I talked a great deal about rose ice cream, what it tasted like and how it looked. I also mentioned that the big shoe store I kept running by in my dream had a funny name that sounded like “Xanadu”. I then thought about the rose ice cream all day, wondering if it exists (for I’ve never seen it), wondering how to make it, and wanting to make some and to sell it.

Cut to night time: Chris and I had just got back from our date at Sammy’s Woodfire Pizza and I decided to stop by Keils to get something chocolate. I marched up and down the isles and was about to give up my search when I saw a fogged up panel of the fridge containing pints of what looked like Hagendaaz and Ben and Jerrys. I opened the fridge expecting to find Double Fudge Chocolate Brownie but instead what I found in my vision was an ice cream called: “Crème de Rose”. Astonished at the existence of such a thing I eargerly bought it and took it home. It tasted like condensed milk and roses, and the name of the brand? “Zambedoo”.

WE HAVE LIFT OFF!!!! After a month of agonizing dial up connections and 3 weeks of no internet, I finally have DSL! And what a change in the blog world this is! I can write in color!

<>Conga music:

I’m connected to the world now

I’m connected to the world now

Da da da da da dah…