Friday, September 26, 2008


I picked up some whole wheat pitas this week and came up with a tasty lil' flatbread sandwich with some ingredients that happened to be on sale.

Serves One

1 whole wheat pita pocket
1 oz brie cheese (or any soft cheese, like goat or even cream cheese)
1/2 roasted red pepper (jars can be found in the pickle/condiment aisle of most stores)
1-2 oz cooked chicken breast, chopped into strips
2 tsp horseradish sauce (or another sandwich spread, like mayo or dijon mustard)
salt, pepper, garlic powder to taste

Place the pita flat on a cutting board and gently slice it in half so that you have 2 circles, and lay them open.

Remove the rind from the brie cheese, if applicable. Spread the cheese on one side of the open bread.

Place the red pepper on a paper towel and press off as much moisture as you can. Slice the pepper into strips and arrange over the cheese.

Arrange the chicken slices over the cheese and peppers. Season with salt, pepper and garlic powder.

Spread the other half of the bread with horseradish sauce, mustard or what have you. Place this side over the chicken.

In a toaster oven or in a skillet, toast the sandwich until it is warmed through and the bread is a little crispy. Slice into quarters and enjoy!!!

I've been packing this little puppy for lunch, alongside some salad. I also keep a box of creamy tomato soup (it exists!) in the fridge at work so I can just pour out a cup and heat it in the microwave. This sandwich? Is spectacular with tomato soup. Try it!

So there's that,

Thursday, September 25, 2008

It's Miiiiiiiiiiine!

I've been off the grid for a couple of weeks, and for that please accept my most sincere apologies...
Last week I was in Durham, North Carolina for work, and it was a looooooong week.  I've been working on this project for a year, scaring myself shitless, worried about its success, and I had nothing to fear.  Everything went off without a hitch!  And it was because I worked my butt off for 14-16 hours a day while I was there, catering to everyone's needs.
I have to admit that I LOVED IT.
It was kind of nice to get out of the city, to focus on one major part of my work while checking in on other projects at my discretion.  The only thing that sucked is that I was indoors all week, and I didn't get outside during our afternoon breaks because I was tunneling through, preparing for the evening meetings. 
On our last night, we went to a comedy club.  While stand-up is my least favorite form of comedy, I laughed til I was hoarse...mostly because of the gin and the wine.  I have a big laugh that some may find annoying if not frightening, so I made sure to warn my companions.  After a week of virtually no speaking, I let loose.  Wew! 
And at the end of the week, people liked me!  They raved about my performance!  FIST PUMPS!
But also at the end of the week, I didn't want to talk to another living being.  After I said goodbye to the course director at the airport, I promised to seal myself up for the remainder of the weekend.  I wanted some ME time.
So when I was waiting for a cab at O'Hare, bogged down with luggage, glowing from the effort, shoulders aching, I just wanted to settle onto a leather seat and let the air from the open window soothe my travel-weary soul.  The taxi dispatch guy asked me where I was going, and when I said Lakeview, a blonde chick was all, "I'm going to Lakeview, too.  Wanna split a cab?"
Oh hell no.  This was MY time.  I put a face on all week for people, and I wasn't about to make awkward conversation with some skinny bitch I didn't know.  So I says to her, I says:
"No...I really don't want to share a cab."  Then I moved on.  I said it pleasantly enough, but for the first time ever, I didn't explain myself and I didn't apologize.  Didn't add a "sorry" afterward.  Because I wasn't sorry.  I was tired.  I wanted what I wanted.  And I wanted to be alone.
So I spent the long cab ride talking to the driver about his home country of Togo, its relationship with Ghana, the colonial history of Africa and the continuing effects of colonial conflict.  That's how I roll....
So there's that,

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

...And Did Anybody See This on Saturday?

It takes a little while before the funny kicks in, but this is the kind of zany that just makes me happy.

So there's that,


All The Boys: To The Yard

I don't know if yesterday's post made any sense to some of you - namely my family. I just thought that the Sesame Street a-la-peanut-butter-sandwiches magician looked like Daniel Day Lewis in There Will Be Blood, the famous line from which is, "I drink your milkshake." I thought the magician's wand looked like that big straw Plainview was talking about, the one used to travel across the room to aid in drinking said "milkshake."

So I went on youtube today to find that clip from the movie, and I came across this lil' gem:

So there's that,


Tuesday, September 16, 2008

There Will Be Peanut Butter Sandwiches

I...drink...your...milkshake! I DRINK IT UP!

So there's that,


Thursday, September 11, 2008

Growing Pains

I was getting ready this morning when out of nowhere I remembered that one of the characters on the sitcom Growing Pains  was named Boner.
BONER!  I was cracking up over my bathroom sink!
Seriously?  I was about 10 when that show came out, and even I knew that "boner" is a euphemism for an erection.  So how come the grown writers of this sitcom didn't foresee that the show might lose a little credibility, based solely on the name of the goofy neighbor kid?  
Middle Aged Writer 1:  "Yeah this kid's a real bonehead.  Let's call him Boner!"
Middle Aged Writer 2:  "Boner?  That's brilliant!  The kids will really go for that, Marv."
Young intern:  "Uh, Boner?  Are you sure?"
MAW 1:  Rips his Brother typewriter from the wall and hurls it at the intern.  "We asked you for coffee, not your opinion."
MAW 2:  "You got a lot to learn about television, kid."
And that young intern?  Was the guy who put According to Jim on television.
So there's that,

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

If I Enter Connecticut, I'm Entering Every State Connecticut's Ever Been With.

I am not a finicky eater, as made testament by my drumstick-esque thighs. If I'm eating and someone warns me they're about to tell a gross story, I wave it off, proudly declaring that I have an ironclad stomach.

I think I get it from my dad, who, unable to let food go to waste, held an impromptu frying session for the packs of discolored bacon left in the fridge, unwrapped, for weeks. I distinctly remember distrustingly staring at a pile of fried bacon, while Dad happily munched away saying, "It won't kill ya. All the germs were killed by the heat." Then after further meditation, "People say they're starving...they can eat like kings if they want to! Just gotta get it out of their heads!"

And so it was I ate the once green-tinged bacon and learned frugality alongside morality.

So it's pretty astounding to me when the thought of certain foods can lead me to physical repulsion. Before this afternoon, the only food on my gag list was beets. Although, I have had them prepared well in recent months; it's just hard for me to get the canned dirt taste out of my mind from meals of yore. And liver is pretty gross. And curry...yeah, ANYTHING with curry is out of bounds for me. And pickled ginger. And canned meats. And I'm pretty leery of gelatins - the goo on canned ham, aspic made to gloss up baked goods and fish, some of that funky green Japanese seaweed. Relish. Mealy Red "Delicious" apples. I think that's it.

What happened today? One of my coworkers very kindly set out some homegrown watermelon for the whole office to enjoy. Now, I love me some watermelon, but this stuff came with a past.

She emailed the staff, telling us to enjoy the watermelon grown in her "backyard, home sweet home Des Plaines."

I know what you're thinking. What's wrong with that?

Nothing. I was really happy to have watermelon. I like this coworker. I have nothing against her backyard. But Des Plaines is another story.

Do you know what happened in Des Plaines? Uh, John Wayne Gacy lived there, murdered a bunch of boys and buried them in his crawlspace. Back in the 70s. Guy dressed like a clown, abducted teen boys...shiver. I watched the really awful movie about him, aptly titled Gacy, and I couldn't even watch it all the way through because I got sick to my stomach.

Me. Sick to my stomach. And every time I see Des Plaines, I think of Gacy, and how even after they bulldozed his home they still can't get buyers for the property.

So I hope you can imagine my stream of consciousness as I read the email. It went like this:

Dead boys...
Seeping into the soil...
Food grown in that soil...
= Gacy's victims!

Yeah. I know it's irrational to think that murder victims from the 70s can fertilize food grown in the same town nearly 40 years later, but it's not that much of a stretch. And yes, people are buried in graveyards all the time, so the likelihood of them being part of my food is pretty high, too...but it's different. It's the thought of that horrible, criminal, putridity that makes me gag. My stomach is turning as I write this, that's how freaked out I am by Gacy.

So, I can't eat that watermelon. I even hovered over it for a minute, contemplating the choice. I just cannot eat it.

So there you have it: more evidence that I am a fuh-reak.

So there's that,


Wednesday, September 3, 2008


I swear I'll write something new when I get a chance, but for now you'll have to deal with this while I'm busy wrapping up a project.

There's a meat purveyor in Chicago with the silliest jingle I've ever heard. Makes me belly laugh every time I hear the last three words of it - "moooOOOOOO and OOYEEENK!"

I've been meaning for weeks to search for it on YouTube, but I kept telling myself that no one could possibly have found this as interesting as I have. I was wrong.


The Whole Jingle, Str8 Up:

Talent Show Dance Routine:

Do the Wave:

Um, Check the Barrels of Chicken Wings at 0:26:

*record scratch* REEEE-MIX!!

I'm not so much about the guy in the last vid, practically jerking it over his genius, but this bitch needed a remix - KNOWUTI'MSAYIN'? Cow and Pig telling people to eat them? YEAH BOY!

So there's that,