Sometimes I draw things.

Like monsters! With marker, on pages I ripped out a book I found at a thrift store on an island in Greece where I once lived for a few months. I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THE PAGES SAY, so if they're some odd I-Believe-That-Humans-Are-What-Happens-When-Aliens-And-Apes-Have-Sex (-and-ps.-I-totally-think-communism-is-the-shit) type of manifesto, please note that I do not take responsibility for their content. 

Except for the monsters. The monsters are all mine.  

I think I've been watching too many Lady Gaga videos.


I Am Totally Famous. And I Have Amazing Friends.

Remember the Rapture? Me too!

I have been displaying this prominently since I got it as a wedding present from the Magical Mademoiselle Z (yes, that's really her name. Sort of. I know, I'm jealous too). I have not been able to use it because it's simply too awesome for that normal everyday tawdry hand drying bullshit, no no. I have plans for this dish towel. I'm going to be buried with it.

<3 <3 <3
And when people dig up my grave like 5000 years from now, they'll be all: umm, whaaa? 

And then they'll come to the conclusion that dinosaurs still existed in the 20whatevers as lovable, if slightly bigger, pets, and Madame Z and I will have collectively completely messed up the history of evolution. Because that's what practical jokes are. 

See? Plans


Thanksgiving! with Pictures!!

I. Love. Thanksgiving.

This year, however, Captain Awesomepants is plague ridden and sounds vaguely like a small alligator is sitting on his head (it's a sad alligator, and it hates life), so we've had to cancel all plans and stay in lest we infect someone else with our doom-flu cooties (I'm not currently sick, but that's what the zombies always say, too, right before they get all bite-y). 

Anyways, I've had a pretty mellow day because we weren't at all prepared to cook anything. WHICH MEANS... I finally had a chance to go over the thanksgiving photos from 2009 which was the year that I shanghaied one of my sister-units and her person into cooking for us, because they are actually legitimately fucking fantastic chef types. And I'm... not so much. 

* Side note: 2009 was when I still had a really stupid camera and everything's kinda blurry and red but I don't care because I went and made them all artsy.

Sister unit also felt that it was necessary to try to teach me how to cook as she was doing so, which didn't work at all but was still entertaining. This is the woman who could probably hack apart a cow with a paring knife. She has skills. 

This is the only instruction part I remember:

The rest I will just have to make up.

I really have no idea what this is. It should probably be removed. That shit could kill you. 
Deep fat fry/sear turkey bits.
Add cranberries, shallots, chestnuts and apple brandy to things. Probably everything. 
Add more things to other things. And then add magic!!

If in doubt, drink. 
Stir something. Maybe pumpkin pie. Or stuffing. Stir so hard the picture gets blurry.

Lose at scrabble while waiting for the turkey
Lose all sense of time and composure in the face of AMAZING FOOD. Become Godzilla on your dinner. 
And then naptime.

Happy Thanksgiving!!


Job Hunting

Job hunting often feels like running very, very fast into a solid object. Like a wall! Head first. Repeatedly. For FUN! I'm extremely cranky about it today, so I've decided to draw pictures instead of writing a cover letter. 


Also, I think I'm going to start trying to give my CV that extra something by attaching pictures. Like so: 

To Whom it May Concern, 
Please hire me. Pretty please, with cherries and other transfatt-y stuff on top. Please, oh please please please. Pleeease. 

I will almost certainly not infect anyone with zombie cooties, because that's what job loyalty is. Look it up. 
Also? I am intolerably filled with sunshine and have freakishly ginormo anime eyes. Hire me NOW.

And I can fly. And I have a pet velociraptor. 

I'm pretty sure that once I send this out I'm going to have to turn my phone off to deal with the incessant ringing from the near constant job opportunities.


My Last Three Months, Part 1: The Wedding

So the last three months have been kinda hectic (hence the lack of consistent posting), but overall there were a few momentous things that happened that deserve some blog space. The first part is that I got married, which was awesome and sporktacular and everything I'd hoped it would be AND there were cupcakes AND s'mores and I was happily consumed by details like what font I should use for the menus for many months beforehand. Weddings, if viewed correctly, are hella fun*. Srsly. Even the part where I fell down, twice. Floors are hard. Walking, also hard. Running around like an ADHD kid on candy and speed while listening to Ricky Martin's Shake Your Bon-Bon in a very, very fancy dress = not hard. Impossible.
F you, Ricky
But overall the whole wedding from start to finish totally kicked ass for me, and I got to see and hug so many people I absolutely adore AND smooch my new husband to one of my favorite songs ever (Magnetic Fields' 'The Book of Love' -- so good! So sassy!!) The entire thing was almost mawkishly happy and we left Bozeman the day after (following a fantastic brunch, yay hollandaise) thinking: well that was frickin' awesome-- I mean sure the DJ messed a bunch of stuff up but it was more funny than bad so I guess that whole bit about something going wrong on the wedding doesn't apply to us.

Fuckin' A. Retrospect!!! Retrospect alert!! Moral included. Don't be a dumbass and tempt fate as you leave for your honeymoon.

Next post: Hurricane Irene!

*And now for the ranty bit: the term 'Your Special Day' or 'Your Big Day' or 'Your Big Super Special Magical Day With Rainbows and Bunnies Where You Get to Act Like a Disney Princess Hopped up on Methamphetamines' is utterly fucking stupid. Any mention of it throughout the whole engaged-planning-gettingmarried process made me want to bite people in the face with my anger teeth. It implies that while normally you are a sane, civil human-- when it comes to your wedding you are allowed to act slightly better than a pig in a taffeta prom dress. Is it your big perfect magic day? You are totally allowed to throw feces if your cake does not show up on time. NO. NO, NO.