Boobquake!

So over here and also here on Facebook, we have something new to participate in.

Boobquake.

Some screwhead over in the sandbox (because I am so anti-P.C.) decided that dressing immodestly is the reason we have more earthquakes here as of late. And some of the lovely psychos on the Intarwebz (whom I adore for reasons like this) decided that we needed to prove, in the name of SCIENCE, that this is just not true.

So, to the pleasure of men EVERYWHERE, all day Monday, wear the most cleavage-revealing shirt you own. Let's see if we can make the whole Earth tremble. Probably in excitement but hey.

Let's rock the boobs, ya'll.

Bad Ass Merit Badge

So. I have a car. An itty bitty little four banger.



Yeah, that's her. One 2001 Mitsubishi Mirage. I call her Mira.

Itty bitty, yanno. You get what I'm saying.

So yesterday, on my birthday (which I forgot to leave a blog post up about, my bad), I went out to my buddy's house to see him and his mom and his friend who just got out of jail. They were all broke, and I had nothing to do all day. All my fun was gonna start after the sun went down, yo.

But I was bored and they were broke, and in Sedalia some ~30 miles down the highway, there was a place that bought scrap metal. Bret, Joe, and Bret's mom Perry all live out on farm land.... With rusted hunks of steel that hadn't moved in over fifteen years.

DING!! Idea!

We spent a couple hours going through a garage that looked like it was going to collapse any minute, a pole barn full of old tractor parts that you needed a tetanus shot just looking at, and cannabalizing a twisted ball of steel that may or may not have been a car half a century ago parked behind the hay shed. And then Perry and I laif the back seats down in Mira and her station wagon, and we loaded up. And then we had to do some shuffling. The station wagon held all the big pieces and my car had all the smaller bits... Which were denser and heavier.

My little car is a trooper, though. Almost 400 pounds of metal in the back end down the highway, struggling to maintain a 60 mph speed, and once we got weighed, unloaded, and paid, didn't bat an eyelash about the ordeal. Nary a mechanical issue.

I got my gas tank filled and nommy Starbucks treats because I'm a spoiled brat, and Perry is taking me to lunch at a little Cajun place in Sedalia Friday. I'm hoping it meets my standards.

Even though I didn't actually DO anything but drive, I had a lot of fun hanging out with good friends. Lots of laughs, lots of fun.

My little car earned her Bad Ass Merit Badge.

Convos from Teh Craziez

Overheard in my living room:

Dez: **Trying to do something sexy with her tongue to a can of icing. And failing.**

Snarky: Failtastic, toots.

Dez: **wails** I was trying to be sexy!

Forgive Me, Intarwebz, For I Have Sinned...

But first, a video.



Now. Onto my confession.

I used to be one of those young people that didn't pay attention to politics and voted. I didn't pay any attention to the presidential campaign, and I voted for Obama.

And I regret it immensely, trust me.

Part of me starting to pay attention to what was going on was the fact that I started reading people who let their opinions be known, and linked to various news articles. And I realized that I agreed with their opinions. And they would talk of things that a lot of mainstream news channels wouldn't cover, and I would get angry. Things like this that I linked to some time back. Obama's administration was considering doing *this*? I couldn't believe it, and I raged.

As the Redhead is so fond of saying, it's "America of the people, by the people, for the people". We are the ones in charge, not them. The White House? That belongs to us, and we employ anyone that resides there. Congress? By all rights, they are OUR bitches.

A lot of people have said it before me, and a lot of people will continue to say it after me: if we want things to change (real change, not Hopenchange), we have to be the ones to set the ball rolling. We have to get things moving towards the change we want.

And it all starts with you, sitting at home. Call your congressmen. Write to your representatives. If you don't like what's happening on Capitol Hill, go to the protests. If you don't like what they're doing, then vote their asses out when the time comes around.

You want things to change, you have to make them change. Get involved. Don't sit by and ride the waves, saying "Things well get better when [Insert Political Allegiance] gets back in the White House." It may for you, it may not for other people.

Get involved. Make the changes you so desire. Because it's not gonna happen on its own.

No Blog For You!

Snarky is going out north of town to a friend's farm to go fishing today. She may or may not take pictures of her friend, affectionately known as the Pet Alcoholic. My camera has been feeling woefully neglected here as of late, so I'll rectify that situation.

The weather is beautiful, I have gas in the car, $20 in my pocket, and a full charge on my iPod. Life is good right now.

More later.

ZOMGYUM!!!

So, because I am trying to get back into the regular swing of blogging (because I am such a horrible terrible no-good useless blogger), today I bring you something easy to read, something YOU can do at home, and pictures! It's a lovely trifecta, and you know you love me for it.

COOKIEZ!!

Cake Cookies
**Note: This is the single recipe. Because I have friends over who have sweet-tooths (sweet-teeths?) bigger than Alaska, and the last single batch I made lasted less than 12 hours, I doubled the recipe for the demonstration pictures. End Note**

** 1 box cake mix, flavor of your choice
** 2 large eggs
** 1/2 cup vegetable oil
** 3 tablespoons water
** 1 bag (8 or 10 oz, your choice) semi-sweet chocolate chips (Depending on your taste and what kind of cake mix you use, peanut butter chips are good too!)

1) Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease cookie pan.

2) Throw everything in a big bowl together and mix it up. For this post and demonstration videos, I used Dark Chocolate Fudge cake mix from Duncan Hines. NOM.

2A) Because I'm an idiot, before I started stirring it up, I forgot to add the chocolate chips. So I ended up with this:


(click to embiggin)

Of course, as soon as I realized my mistake, I added the chips. But of course, by that time, the mix was quite stiff from being thoroughly stirred up, so mixing the chips in was quite the work out for my arm. Whoo!



And the dough will get pleasantly stiff once it's good and stirred up. And it's utterly delicious raw, so feel free to spoon some into your mouth. Nom nom nom.

3) Spoon onto greased cookie sheet. I can fit a dozen onto my cookie sheet.



4) Bake in the oven for ~10 minutes. It's not an exact time, because depending on how big of a spoonful you lay out, 10 minutes may be too long for small cookies, or too short for big cookies. Use your judgement.

5) Pull out of the oven, and I always scrape them off the cookie sheet and let them sit on a plate for a few minutes to harden up enough to where you can handle them without them falling apart into goo on your fingers.


Tha's a big damn cookie, yo.

And I am truly ghetto, for I do not have an actual, honest-to-goodness cookie jar. I use my larger mixing bowls with lids.



The recipe yields 18 to 24 cookies, depending on how big you want your cookies. The double batch yielded 47 exactly, due to one ZOMGWTFBBQ!!1!-sized cookie, as pictured above.

All done!



They wouldn't all fit in my biggest mixing bowl with lid, so I had to put the last dozen in a smaller-sized container.

But there! Yummy cookies that are nice and chewy without being undercooked.

Nom away, kids.

Dream big. Or not.

It is a person's perogative to dream as big or as little as they like, I've always felt. And yes, parents always want their children to be happy and achieve their goals. That is a parent's job. You wanna be a doctor or a firemen or an astronaut? Go for it. Work hard and you can.

I do not dream big. I do not have any major goals for my life.

You know what my goal is? To fucking make ends meet and survive to see next Tuesday.

You know why I don't dream big? Because I can't even dream small. Hell, less than dream - I can't set a small goal of something I would LIKE to do for the day, week, month.

I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I don't know where I want to live. I don't know what kind o house or lifestyle I want to have. And in all honesty, I don't care to worry about it. It does me no good to get all butthurt because I can't become an astronaut or whatever.

Another fallacy they tell you growing up: you are in charge of your own life. Yeah, I call bullshit on that one. You are in control of certain aspects of your own life.

To a certain degree, you can choose where you want to work... But after a while, if the bills start to pile up and the eviction notice gets nailed to your front door, you will take a job shoveling shit if it includes a steady paycheck.

If you're in a relationship, especially a long-term monogamous relationship, you are no longer in complete control. If you want to stay in that relationship, you have to make compromises. And sometimes, you don't get to do what you want to do.

I don't dream big, because I can't even dream small. I live my life day to day, paycheck to paycheck.

Now take your preaching and go say it to someone who cares.

When we last saw our snarky hero, she was ill and without a car. We missed a couple of episodes between then and now, so let's recap.

-Go Mira fixed. Took two days of working from sun rise to set, but she is in full working order. Drove home once it had started snowing (bad idea), at about 9:30 (worse idea). Hit a patch of ice on the highway, spun out, nearly hit a cop car. I spun out because I was slowing down due to the eighty bajillion flashing lights from cops and tow trucks for the four or five people who had hit the same patch of ice and landed in the ditch. Made it home without any further complications.

-Lost a friend. Former Roommate, who sold me the car, insinuated that anything that needed to be fixed was MY FAULT. I'd had the car for all of what, three weeks? A month? Not even I can do that grand of damage to a vehicle. I said some words, he accused me of cheating on my boyfriend, and then started to spread rumors about me sleeping around. What do you expect from someone with a high school mentality? He also made a bet that he could break me and the Redhead up in the month before he moved out of our sleepy lil burg. We laughed in his face and got closer. Way to prove me right about your two-faced nature, Caleb.

-Made a new enemy. When I discover that a... young person of the female variety (because I damn sure won't call her a woman. Whore, maybe) is feeding her 18-month-old daughter Benedryl every night to make her go to sleep, in addition to whoring around while her husband is in Iraq, I am displeased. That's too weak a word; I am RAGING. He deploys, and three weeks later she fucks somebody else in a state on the other side of the COUNTRY. Which she drove his Jeep to get to. She gets pregnant, other guy abandons her, and now she's back in Warrensburg, spreading her legs for any guy that will have her. I cannot abide infidelity, so I sent an email to her husband. And her husband has a heart of gold and wants to believe she can change, and refuses to listen unless I can provide him with solid proof. What, friends that she was staying with witnessing her making out with two different dudes on the couch aren't solid enough? The next morning my car was covered in eggs. I also had a voicemail threatening to sue me for harassment if I didn't quit lying to her husband. Huh. Chris, am I harassing you? No? Thought so.

Let's see, what else... Oh yeah.

I rekindled my love for cooking. Redhead is very happy with this and seems to actually be putting on a few pounds. Not a lot, because he's a scrawny little thing, but a few pounds. For Valentine's Day he bought me stainless steel cookware, which made me squee all over my kitchen, and I've been scouring books and the Intarwebz for new recipes to try. LabRat has a new recipe she did for her Cooking Noob series that looks delicious and I am eager to try out. Bacon-wrapped shrimp? Shit yes!

I have also been watching Hell's Kitchen religiously. I loves me some Gordon Ramsay. For my birthday (which is officially 18 days away, hint hint!) I want to get some of his books, two of which have recipes and one of which is his autobiography. If you order from his website here, all books are signed. I hope to either be given or buy myself the books called Humble Pie (autobiography), Gordon Ramsay's Sunday Lunch (With DVD), and Gordon Ramsay Makes It Easy (with DVD). The man is a cooking genius and I want to mimic some of his meals.

I'm also considering culinary school. And while a lot of people tell me it's easier to just get a job as a cook somewhere and start there, I have been having some difficulty with that. I have tried again and again to get a job cooking at one of the local restaurants, but nobody will hire me because... you guessed it... I have never been employed as a cook. This creates a dilemma, no? Besides... I want to LEARN. If I get a degree in Culinary Management, I can learn the cuisine side of the business as well as how to adequately run a kitchen plus staff. Sounds like a plan to me.

And on the baby front, we have....



TWO TOOFERS! YAY!

I think that's all I have for now. I really am sorry for such a lengthy absence, but every time I sat down to blog, I just... didn't have it in me. Sorry, ya'll. Can you ever forgive me?