Archive for January, 2009



Mega-Thrusters Are… Not Remotely Related to Brain Activity

11:21 pm · category: Uncategorized

Oddly enough, I find savasana to be the single most uncomfortable aspect of my yoga practice.  There’s something about lying flat on my back with only a thin mat on carpet-covered concrete that just kills the small of my back.  I finally discovered I can be quiet and still and relatively comfortable during savasana if I spread my legs much, much, much wider than what you’ll see in the picture in the link.

The other day as I was settling into savasana at the end of class, I realized I looked like that guy.  You know?  That guy?  The famous one.  So I said to Amy, a classmate who is in the medical field, “Hey Amy, when I do this, I look like that guy.  What’s he called?”

She was utterly confused.  “Um….. what guy would that be?”

“You know, that guy.  The famous one.  From the line drawing.  It’s like, ‘Denubian Man’ or something.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do!  That guy from the drawing on the front of the medical textbook.”

Then everyone in the class pitched in, assuring me I meant the “the da Vinci” man and not ‘Denubian Man.’

Well, no.  It turns out I meant Vitruvian Man.  Who, yes, was drawn by da Vinci.  But I ask you, which sounds more like “Denubian”: “da Vinci” or “Vitruvian”?  And nobody ever calls it “the da Vinci man,” anyway.  So I didn’t feel like too much of a dork.

Until, that is, I remembered that “Denubian” means “of Denubia.”  And that Denubia is a planet in the Andromeda Galaxy where Voltron takes place.  So then I felt like a giant dork.



A Vast 1992 Conspiracy

10:31 pm · category: Uncategorized

Yep.  That’s me and my parents and Bill and Hill about six months before Bill became leader of the free world.  We were at the Governor’s Mansion for a function honoring the 1992 valedictorians from Arkansas high schools.  There’s only one problem.

I never graduated.  Technically, anyway.

See, I was so busy taking classes that were going to actually help me in the real world (band, choir, journalism, etc.) that I hit the last semester of my senior year one math credit short of the requirements.  I told the school counselor (Who, incidentally, looked EXACTLY LIKE Nancy Reagan.) I was going to take Algebra II via correspondence, so she went ahead and wrote it on my transcript as if it were a done deal.  I ordered the course, had My Cousin Rachel do the actual coursework… and then failed to mail it in.

Fun side note for Laurie‘s benefit: Frank “Herb Tarlek” Bonner from WKRP in Cincinnati was on hand as one of the “local celebrities.”  My daddy spent the entire afternoon talking to him about the Razorbacks.



Bradi’s Best Birthday*

10:24 pm · category: Uncategorized

When mere_ubu invited me over for my birthday and said we were going to stay in our pajamas, eat ham, and watch Buffy, I thought, “Is she kidding?  I don’t usually do that until Friday night!”  And yes, you should all be TERRIBLY jealous that that’s how I spent my day.

Here’s what you need to know about mere:

  • She has a charming home with big rooms and tons of windows with light pouring in from every direction.  The casa is also chock full of amazing art created by mere’s pere.
  • She has a 42-inch flat screen plasma TV.  I’m fairly certain Oz was actual size.
  • She was unaware of Head Tilt Headquarters, which appears to be officially gone.  Luckily, the Wayback Machine had a few pages in its archives.  Enjoy!  (Start with January 2004.)
  • In addition to the ham and cheese omelets, she made coffee chocolate chip muffins.  Super scrummy and better than some cheap-ass grocery store cake any day of the year, but especially on my birthday.
  • She has watched only the first two acts of Dr. Horrible and none of Commentary! The Musical! Frankly, I cannot believe the LJ Spuffy fanfic community** hasn’t shunned her.  Apply pressure!
  • I got to finger Doll!Spike and the rest of the brood.  No — Wait!  I didn’t mean “finger.”  Oh hell, OF COURSE that’s what I meant.

Here’s what you need to know about our viewing pleasure:

  • I was relieved to discover there was no giant blue crystal or hidden stash of injections lying around.  At least, not that I remember.  I was sort of lacking in my usual amazing flexibility during yoga tonight, but that may be because of all the muffins.
  • We watched “Band Candy,” “Pangs,” “Intervention,” “Life Serial,” and “Him.”  Yes, today was all about the laughy with none of the mopey.  Plus, there was very little Angel, and plenty of Spike covered in sexy wounds.
  • We established that if I ever meet JW, the first words out of my mouth will be, predictably, “I wrote my thesis on you.”
  • mere_ubu now understands what I mean when I say, “Buffy has Man Hands.”
  • Remember in “Killed By Death” when Cordelia suggested Buffy get “that thing on her face” taken care of so long as she was in the hospital?  We totally know what “that thing” is now.
  • I cannot tell you how many times I yelled, “Eat a sandwich!” at the TV screen as the seasons progressed and Buffy turned into the Incredibly Shrinking Woman.
  • At one point mere and I agreed on something, and I instructed her to “Slap my hand now!”  To her credit, she did — although I couldn’t quite discern if she did so with bemusement or the same confusion with which Giles responded to Anya’s request of the same.
  • I taught mere how to play Who’s A Little Fear Demon with her cats.
  • During the “It was more like a riot than a Ralph’s” comment in “Pangs,” I sheepishly admitted I was ridiculously excited to drive by a Ralph’s on my recent trip to LA for the big Buffy party.

Thank you again, mere_ubu, for THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER.

*Cross-posted (mostly) from my comment on mere_ubu’s LJ.
**mere_ubu writes the best Spaiku (That’s Spike-related haiku for those not in the know.), and you should totally go read it.  I mean, chances are I met you at the WD, so you’d really appreciate that stuff.



A Horse is a Horse, Of Course

10:17 pm · category: Uncategorized

But little girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice.  Here’s my youngest sister’s daughter with a horse.



Kitchen Confidential

3:38 pm · category: Uncategorized

I like to cook.  I’m a good cook.  I’m especially good at modifying recipes, and I enjoy experimenting.  But sometimes I should just stay out of the kitchen, heat or not.

These are the things I’ve discovered in the last two weeks:

  • You cannot make a cheese sauce with soy milk and reduced-fat sharp cheddar.  It tastes like melted ice cream with cheese in it.
  • That thing in your knife set that looks like an oversized ice pick is not an oversized, totally ineffective ice pick.  It’s a knife sharpener.
  • One cup of uncooked orzo makes a shitload of cooked orzo.
  • You can make homemade duck sauce by spending hours chopping fruit and putting it through the food processor and adding tons of stuff to it and boiling it.  Or you can heat one jar of each of plum and apricot jams together, throw in some soy sauce and garlic powder, and end up with a much tastier homemade duck sauce.
  • You can eat the cocktail sauce that’s been in your refrigerator for a year and the shrimp that’s been in your freezer for six months, but you probably shouldn’t.


Stupid Calendar

8:20 pm · category: Embracing My Inner Geek

My cousin Kim got me the Buffy 2009 Wall Calendar for Christmas.  It’s a standard, typical monthly calendar — and it’s nicely done considering it’s about a series that has been off the air for five years. Each month has a theme — which is usually character- or theme-driven — that helps pull it all together.

But this calendar has a real and discernible “ick” factor that I really, really, really hope was unintentional.

The photographic theme for January appears to be “Buffy’s Lovers,” as there are individual photos of Buffy with Riley, Spike, and Angel, respectively. But for reasons I can’t possibly understand, the calendar uses a still of Buffy and Spike from the season six scene in which he attempts to rape her; in point of fact, the specific shot shows Spike pinning Buffy to the ground with his hands clutching at her chest as she scrunches her face up in terror.

I’m all about the Spuffy, but I don’t want photographic evidence of a cinematic storyline that highlights an attempted rape hanging on my wall for 31 consecutive days. What the hell, calendar-making people?



Bread and Circuses

5:47 pm · category: Uncategorized

Here’s a picture of my dog, Lou (Who has many, many names.):

Louise is a boxer.  I love her very much.  Sometimes she does stupid stuff, but I forgive her because she’s my sweet Skip to my Lou; my darling!

But lately I’ve been worrying about her activity level, because boxers are an active, playful breed — and Lulu just doesn’t know how to play or enjoy herself; she’s mostly just a lump.  This is why I decided it would be good to pair her with a boxer-mix rescue dog named Tolkien, who lasted all of one week until he tore up all the carpet and padding in the hallway after he jumped the gate keeping him and Lucy Liu out of the litter box.  Since then I’ve been thinking about adopting the fawn boxer stray (Lou is brindle) who showed up at my youngest sister’s house so my girl could have some companionship, but I’ve been about half past hesitant because Louisa von Trapp has been exhibiting some attention issues lately.  And if you’ll remember, I sort of fell into ownership of Lucretia Borgia, as she came with the house.

Still, I don’t know a whole hell of a lot about various dog breeds, even though I work with dozens of dogs every week.  So on Tuesday night I spent a couple of hours online learning all about boxers.  Some of it was boring, some of it was interesting, and some of it was awesome.  For instance, according to this website, “They [boxers] were also popular circus and theater dogs because they learned tricks so easily.”

OMFG.  This is exactly what I always wanted.  I think one of the reasons I haven’t reproduced is because infants bore the shit out of me and I’m afraid I wouldn’t pay any attention to the offspring until it could do tricks.  My youngest sister can attest to this fact, as I ignored all three of her children until they could identify their noses or successfully complete a high five or something equally impressive.  (Even though they were ridiculously cute.)

So when I found out that Luby Lou could be a freakin’ circus dog, I got all kinds of excited.  I was envisioning her pirouetting in a tutu and jumping through flaming hoops.  I knew right then that 2009 was going to be fucking fantastic.


I spent the bulk of the first day of 2009 baking bread.  We’re having a family get-together on January 03 where we’ll eat lots of soups, so I baked bread to go along with the soups.  Lots of bread: Italian, French Sourdough, Hawaiian.  It took me almost eleven hours, all told.

And in between all the mixing and kneading and rising and baking, I cleaned my house.  And I mean I seriously cleaned my house.  I mopped my hardwood floors with Murphy’s Oil Soap four times.  (There’s been a lot of flour on that floor in the last 24 hours).  I polished the 12-paned window on the door to the deck, as well as the oval window on the front door — BOTH INSIDE AND OUT.  Hell, I even mopped the laundry room.  (Maybe other people do that on a regular basis, but I’ve done it maybe three times in the year and a half since I moved here.  I mean, who even looks in there?)

So by the time I went to bed at 3:30 a.m., I had ten loaves of delicious, homebaked bread and a spotless home.  It was a very productive day.


Today I had only a couple of items on my To Do list: clean out my car, wash my regular laundry (But not my bedding, tablecloth, or area rugs: that happens on Sunday.  I have a list!), and get gas.  I ran by Aunt Doodie’s to pick up some cabbage/potatoe/sausage boil (I had peas yesterday!), and then I came home to get started on my To Do list.

The first thing I saw in the kitchen was a mound of moist white and gray covered in slobber.  Clearly, Louisa May Alcott had experienced a digestive issue while I was gone.  But the contents were curious, because she’s on a very strict diet and doesn’t get table scraps.  (She has flatulence problems, which are typical of the breed, and a stable diet helps keep the farts far away.)

The second thing I saw was that Lula Bell was walking low to the ground, as if she had been chastised and was feeling guilty.  This should always be a tip-off.

The next thing I noticed was six loaves of bread strewn across my bedroom floor, along with the aluminum foil in which they had been wrapped.

And then there was the kicker: A seventh loaf of half-eaten Hawaiian bread haphazardly buried beneath the pillows on my bed.


So I had to mop the kitchen floor again because of the bread barf.  I had to vacuum my bedroom again.  And I had to wash my bed linens two days early — which is going to throw me off schedule all year long.


Lou had her bread — and then booted it.  I did not get my circus tricks.  And Louise will be kenneled from here on out when I’m not home.

So take that, Romans.  Now there will be no bread, no circuses, and no freedom.