Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Instead of me writing anything of substance, you should go here to read my story about the Whales of Cleveland, and then once you read that come back here and I'm just going to spit out some random stuff.
Like, let's talk about this, they recalibrated the horoscopes. First of all, I'm not a believer in astrology. Elly is shaking her head at me right now, as is everyone else who's ever heard me vow to only hook up with Scorpios. What? It's hard to resist a good narrative guide, especially one that justified one night stands. But here's my real problem with these new astrological designations - it makes me a Gemini. And I refuse to be a Gemini. Because Cancer is the only cool name in the entire horoscope. It's like being nicknamed something awesome, like Snake, or Blade, or Poison Ivy, and then all of sudden being renamed Puppy. Cancer is the only hardcore sign. The Claws. Not switching it. If anyone buys me a pendant with fucking twins on it, I will chew it to pieces in front of you.
Along somewhat the same lines, tomorrow I'm going to some psychic party, which is this thing where we all hang out at this girl's house and pay for private readings. If this psychic doesn't tell me that I'm going to end up alone and anonymous, I won't believe a word she says. We'll see. Once, when I was working at the Village Inn slinging pie in Phoenix, a customer lady followed me out of the restaurant after my shift, gave me a card, and told me I should call her for a reading. I almost did it, since hey, psychics singling you out is always creepy right? But then she mentioned she also sold candle baskets, and I threw out her card. She was surprisingly hot for a psychic. You never know, maybe I'm a supervillain, and she was only trying to intervene to save the world. Or maybe I was going to meet my true love, and then since I never called her, I missed him, and now tomorrow I'll find out it is too late. It's okay if that's true. These things happen.
The great thing about the internet is that people email me randomly, and sometimes even send me stuff. Without me asking. For instance, once upon a time, I got an email from Miss B, telling me about how much she liked fake banana flavor, which is a stance I can get behind. I don't know Miss B. But she writes well, and I'm a word slut. We talked back and forth a little. Then she decided to go on this grand European tour, and send me emails all about the trip. It was fantastic. I got to hear all about Iceland, and London, and snow in Prague, and Christmas villages in Geneva. To top it off she sent me this:
Which is awesome. In theory. Anytime a complete stranger sends you random chocolate, it's awesome. And I love absinthe, in theory. There's that whole "pretend you're a heroin addict while burning sugar in your spoon" sex thing, it's hard to resist that. Anyway, I finally tried this...and...it's okay. But there's this weird crunchy thing happening inside there. I'm not sure if the liquor inside crystallized? I remember eating some other liquor filled chocolates, and the sugar in the alcohol had done the same thing. But other than the weird sensation of there being wafer where no wafer exists, I give it a tentative thumbs up. I'll definitely be making Camilla try it tomorrow. Now I want to get drunk on absinthe.
Yesterday, when I went to dig my car out, since it only snows when I forget to put my car in the garage the night before, I found a package of these waiting for me:
These are Krista's "Love Pucks". I named them, which is why I got a whole package for free. I didn't take the picture though, I stole it from her site. I suck at food photography, it requires having cute dishes and clean counter space. Wouldn't it be great if I could always get free pastries every time I was cute with the words? Also the mocha rum balls she included? I can't show you a picture of those because I already finished them off with copious amounts of coffee, they were so good. Anyway, the Love Pucks are awesome.I would share, but no, you can't have any. I'm not sure if she sent me the vegan ones or not, but if these are the vegan ones, than Krista is a motherfucking baking genius. Krista is just one of those girls who is good at everything. You know, good at decorating, good at dressing, good at making jewelry, good at drumming, good at being a totally chill person, and now good at making vegan bakery. If I didn't owe her three years servitude from saving my soul in Tremont years ago, I might be jealous. You should go buy stuff from her.
So instead of mentioning the horrible Arizona shooting, or the bees being systematically slaughtered by Bayer, or the new planet they found, or the fact my cat probably has a UTI, or that I got my hair cut again, or the important meeting I have tomorrow morning, I'm just going to eat a Love Puck, edit some pictures, and go to sleep early, cause Next Week Some Other Shit is Starting. I need my strength for things to come. Which might just be supervillainy.
The moral of the story is you should all feel free to email me or send me shit as much as you like. Also One you never heard of I push it hard to further the grind I feel like murder but hip hop you saved my life. Night.
Posted by Bridget Callahan at 9:06 PM