February 10, 2002 :: 2:15 a.m.
oh, to be that pepper...
It's chocolate obsession week on the Food Network. Right now I'm watching Martha Stewart make The Rock her kitchen bitch. She's making him do all of her stirring and mixing and things. She keeps making references to WWF terminology - "laying the smack down," "smelling what The Rock is cooking," etc, etc - and I find it incredibly frightening. Actually, I find Martha Stewart terrifying even without the wrestling talk. Ah, now she's making him do "a nice little scalloped edge all around." She's wearing this scary pink and black sweat suit thing. It freaks me out. I think she's a robot. Or a minion of satan. Or satan himself. But she's certainly not human.
Anyway. Tomorrow night at 7 p.m. I will super glue my eyes to the television. Why, you ask? Oh, well, it's the Iron Chef valentine's battle, of course! I wish that show was on more than once a week. I pine for it. I long to hear the judges comment on the strange and usually unappealing dishes, their Japanese yips overdubbed with nonsensical English translations. My knees become weak at the thought of that man whose name I don't know, sensuously biting into a yellow pepper and then attempting to cover his laughter. Oh, Iron Chef! Why do you do these things to me?
Ah. Yes. Moving on. Potato chips are the enemy. I wandered out to the kitchen, thinking that I would get a bowl of cereal to quiet my grumbling tummy. The "snack cabinet" was open, as usual - my family has something against closing cupboards. I, on the other hand, cannot stand to have them open, so of course I closed it. I stood, surveying the snack food. My eyes landed on the potato chips. Bickel's brand, if you must know. I think it's a Pennsylvania thing, like Utz and TastyKake (although I think you can get those elsewhere, as long as "elsewhere" isn't California or North Dakota or someplace), so perhaps you've never had them. Well. They're good. They're salty and yummy, and I couldn't resist them. I pulled the bag out and started munching. And munching. I stopped once the salt got to be too much for me, but by that point I'd consumed so many that it didn't matter anymore. Blah.
I did get my cereal, though. I do a strange thing when I eat cereal. I pour myself a bowl, and then absolutely drown it in milk. There's probably more milk than there is cereal. That's fine. But when I scoop up a spoonful, I let the excess milk drip off of the spoon before I eat it. There's no extra milk on the spoon at all; the flakes are merely damp. I don't understand this.
This is amusing. It's entitled "So you'd like to ... listen to the music of goofy ass looking people," and it made me laugh. I don't so much agree with the comment about Bj�rk, but hey. I poke around amazon.com a lot when I'm bored, looking for random music or books. I found a lot of cds that I want tonight. Problem: I am poor. So I suppose they'll have to wait.
In the search to alleviate my boredom tonight, I ran across an "astro love predictor." Normally I don't bother with these things, because basing compatibility on astrology (which I'm a big fan of, don't get me wrong) is sort of dumb. Well, no. It's only dumb in the simplified sense, like if you only use the sun signs. Which most of these "astro love predictors" do. If you go more in depth - moon sign, ascendant, the other planets, etc - it can be a helpful thing. But anyway. Putting my prejudice aside, I clicked the cancer button (me), the aquarius button (Adam), and let it do its thing. The results were surprisingly close to reality. Usually, cancer and aquarius isn't seen as a good match. I'm too touchy-feely and sensitive, he's too cold and aloof. But really, he's not at all cold or aloof, so blah to all of the astrology books that tell me so. This particular "astro love predictor" said the following:
Grounded emotional footing. Learning to listen. Cuddly.
Grounded emotional footing? I'm slightly confused as to what that means, so let's move on. Learning to listen? Correct. We're also learning to talk. Communication isn't quite our strong point, but we work it out. Cuddy? To put it mildly: YES. We are so cuddly. You have no idea. We probably disgust people on the street. We spend hours just lying around, cuddling. It's heavenly. It's one of the reasons that I love him so much - he likes to cuddle (reason #800 that he's the best boyfriend ever).
Yeah. I'm not sure why I felt the need to write about that, but whatever. I'm going to go... do something now. It seems way later than it is. I feel like I should be in bed, but according to my internal clock, bedtime isn't for another two hours.
I just saw Justin Timberlake on TV and he looked outstandingly homosexual. Thought I'd share.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005