Despite its horrid and offensive name, I find "Cougar Town" to be a very witty and entertaining show.
Just don't tell anyone...
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
You know those girls who can't wait to get married, and then they get engaged and it's all "my fiance this," and "my fiance that..."
...and then it's ALL about her wedding and she turns into the BRIDEZILLA FROM HELL and everyone hates her and takes up drinking but is nice to her face because "it's her wedding" even though we all know it's not going to last, and then the bitch gets knocked up and it's all about that damn baby and then she has the thing and all she can talk about is how exhausting her life is and then she tells you about the baby's poo? This post is like that....except it's about a bike.
A few years ago, when I was still living with roommates, one of the roomies got a (kick ass) bike to commute to work, and I was a little curious, if not envious, about getting a new (kick ass) bike, but we lived in a place that didn't seem like the kind of place I would want to ride a bike, and I had an old crappy one I bought at Target 8 years ago for $70, so I just pushed down those feelings and started drinking more.
Then I got a new job and used that as an excuse to move, and got a place about 3 miles away from the new job and would bike to work when it wasn't too cold out. Except the bike I had was shit. Once I was almost overrun by an old man on rollerblades on a trail and I had to pedal the hardest I have ever pedaled in my life because I will be DAMNED if a geriatric on wheels gets the best of me.
So I started looking for a bike, at a bike store, and the weekend after I found one I liked and I was getting ready to buy I was fired from my job and had to pedal back home in the middle of the day on my shit bike.
So. I had to put the new bike thing on hold and it broke my heart and I just kinda drank a little more. But all I could talk about was how much I loved to bike, even though I wasn't doing it. And that made me sad. So I had more vodka.
So I finally got over my superstitions that looking for a bike would mean I would be fired again (ha ha! doesn't insecurity, crippling fear, and the threat of homelessness make people just crazy) and ventured back to the bike store, which I kinda hated because I hate any situation where a salesman is involved (car, computer, bike). Mostly because I have found them to be condescending instead of helpful.
This time the bike store didn't have any bikes because they were having a huge sale two days later (what?! no bikes!!!!) and I plotted and antagonized about dealing with crowds and crowds of people and stupid salesmen, but my hunger/desire/craziness for a new bike overcame all of that and I went. At the crack of effing dawn to beat the crowd. And I lucked out and got one of the bike dealer dudes who travels around and gets people's opinions of their bikes. And I was demanding, and he brought me bikes, and I rode them around, and the told him that bike was too slow, so he'd bring me another, and I'd ride it, and then complain that the gear wires were in the wrong place. This man was a saint.
And then I found the bike I wanted, the bike I loved. Except it was $150 OVER my price range. So I thankfully had the brains to ask if there was a previous model for cheaper. And there was, but it had to be ordered. Which meant no instant gratification of a bike in hand. So I ordered it, because isn't delayed gratification one of the hallmarks of adulthood? (yeah, I know, that's bullshit.) And then I went home and had some more drinks to snuff out the part of me that was screaming that I still didn't have a bike.
And then I got a call 4 days later that the bike was ready. And we have been together ever since. The end.
A few years ago, when I was still living with roommates, one of the roomies got a (kick ass) bike to commute to work, and I was a little curious, if not envious, about getting a new (kick ass) bike, but we lived in a place that didn't seem like the kind of place I would want to ride a bike, and I had an old crappy one I bought at Target 8 years ago for $70, so I just pushed down those feelings and started drinking more.
Then I got a new job and used that as an excuse to move, and got a place about 3 miles away from the new job and would bike to work when it wasn't too cold out. Except the bike I had was shit. Once I was almost overrun by an old man on rollerblades on a trail and I had to pedal the hardest I have ever pedaled in my life because I will be DAMNED if a geriatric on wheels gets the best of me.
So I started looking for a bike, at a bike store, and the weekend after I found one I liked and I was getting ready to buy I was fired from my job and had to pedal back home in the middle of the day on my shit bike.
So. I had to put the new bike thing on hold and it broke my heart and I just kinda drank a little more. But all I could talk about was how much I loved to bike, even though I wasn't doing it. And that made me sad. So I had more vodka.
So I finally got over my superstitions that looking for a bike would mean I would be fired again (ha ha! doesn't insecurity, crippling fear, and the threat of homelessness make people just crazy) and ventured back to the bike store, which I kinda hated because I hate any situation where a salesman is involved (car, computer, bike). Mostly because I have found them to be condescending instead of helpful.
This time the bike store didn't have any bikes because they were having a huge sale two days later (what?! no bikes!!!!) and I plotted and antagonized about dealing with crowds and crowds of people and stupid salesmen, but my hunger/desire/craziness for a new bike overcame all of that and I went. At the crack of effing dawn to beat the crowd. And I lucked out and got one of the bike dealer dudes who travels around and gets people's opinions of their bikes. And I was demanding, and he brought me bikes, and I rode them around, and the told him that bike was too slow, so he'd bring me another, and I'd ride it, and then complain that the gear wires were in the wrong place. This man was a saint.
And then I found the bike I wanted, the bike I loved. Except it was $150 OVER my price range. So I thankfully had the brains to ask if there was a previous model for cheaper. And there was, but it had to be ordered. Which meant no instant gratification of a bike in hand. So I ordered it, because isn't delayed gratification one of the hallmarks of adulthood? (yeah, I know, that's bullshit.) And then I went home and had some more drinks to snuff out the part of me that was screaming that I still didn't have a bike.
And then I got a call 4 days later that the bike was ready. And we have been together ever since. The end.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
For all my chai lovers -
I found this recipe online, and am on my second batch - it's a great recipe that tastes just as good as anything you can buy at the store or get in a coffee shop. Plus, tons cheaper, and you can adjust the spices and sugar based on your personal preference.
Chai Concentrate
Ingredients
1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
1 teaspoon granulated sugar
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
Instructions
Empty condensed milk into a jar or plastic container with tight-fitting lid.
Stir in the sugar, cardamom, cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg. Store in refrigerator.
To use
Brew a cup of strong black tea, such as Assam, then add two heaping
teaspoons of concentrate or more to taste.
Stir well until concentrate has fully melted.
To keep: Store in refrigerator for up to 6 months.
Chai Concentrate
Ingredients
1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
1 teaspoon granulated sugar
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
Instructions
Empty condensed milk into a jar or plastic container with tight-fitting lid.
Stir in the sugar, cardamom, cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg. Store in refrigerator.
To use
Brew a cup of strong black tea, such as Assam, then add two heaping
teaspoons of concentrate or more to taste.
Stir well until concentrate has fully melted.
To keep: Store in refrigerator for up to 6 months.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Bus People
I have joined a "very exclusive" group of commuters who take the bus. Although it is, at times, dis-heartening and disgusting, smelly, and oMG WHAT IS THAT ON THE SEAT?!, I find that taking the bus gives me a certain smugness that I can take with me throughout the day, knowing that by not driving I am a much better steward of the earth than all my friends and fools out there driving their gas-guzzling, take up the entire road, beasts of vehicles.
You all suck, btw. And just so you know, the fastest way to make me fall into a year-long, eyeball-rolling induced coma is to bother me with some petty bullshit excuse about "needing the space because we have a car seat (elephant, drums, dead body)" to cart around. I have a two-door hatchback, am 6 marvelous feet tall, and have managed for years to cart around nieces and nephews, their car seats, and various child accoutrements with no difficulty. Yes, I had to push the front seat forward to get to the back, my gawd, I don't know how I managed. Also, I've had a lawn mower in my car. That still impresses me.
Anyway, riding the bus has given me a new perspective on things. Sometimes I ride the bus and really, really hate people. Sometimes there are evenings where I see simple acts of kindness. True, heart-stopping kindness, that make me a little verklempt. Sometimes there are beautifully odd moments that feel like a scene from a movie. Sometimes I almost burst out in laughter (more about old man Bob another day).
Today wasn't any of those. I ride one of two bus lines, depending on what I have going on after work. Today I hopped a popular line that is always full. I recognized the bus driver, a lady who is a bit too chatty, and is best friends with about half the people on the bus. When I got on it was standing room only, so I stood in the front by the driver, and got an up-close look at how absolutely distracted she is hurtling that bus down the road at frightening speeds. At one point she had almost disappeared underneath the steering wheel, trying to fish something out of her purse all while carrying on a conversation with another passenger.
Halfway along the route, we came up to a convenience store. On more than one occasion this bus driver has stopped the bus, hopped out, and gone in to get something to eat. This isn't uncommon on the Indy bus routes. I think the drivers have to take occasional breaks while working (once in a snow storm, the bus driver told us she had to pee, really, really bad, and hoped we wouldn't mind that she had to pull over.). Today as we rolled up, I "noticed" 5 cops cars in the parking lot, a man handcuffed, and a police officer sticking a cigarette in the cuffed man's mouth and lighting it. The bus driver pulled up and opened the door.
Bus Driver: Hey boo, what's going on?!!!
Cuffed Man: You tell ma mama, FUCK YOU!
Cop: HEY SHUT THE HELL UP
Bus Driver: Aw no, fool, I ain't gonna say that to her.
Soon to be convicted felon: Nah, you tell her I said, FUCK YOU! (he never lost the cigarette in his mouth as he stood there cuffed and screaming)
Cop: I SAID SHUT UP
Bus Driver: Aw, Boo, I'm gonna let her know what's up. I'll see you around. (really, really, you're gonna see him around?!!)
And then she continued on with the bus route, driving with her head below the dash, digging out her cell phone to call this man's mother.
"Hey, your boy is at the Super8 cuffed with cops all around him. I dunno what he did, but it don't look good. .."
You all suck, btw. And just so you know, the fastest way to make me fall into a year-long, eyeball-rolling induced coma is to bother me with some petty bullshit excuse about "needing the space because we have a car seat (elephant, drums, dead body)" to cart around. I have a two-door hatchback, am 6 marvelous feet tall, and have managed for years to cart around nieces and nephews, their car seats, and various child accoutrements with no difficulty. Yes, I had to push the front seat forward to get to the back, my gawd, I don't know how I managed. Also, I've had a lawn mower in my car. That still impresses me.
Anyway, riding the bus has given me a new perspective on things. Sometimes I ride the bus and really, really hate people. Sometimes there are evenings where I see simple acts of kindness. True, heart-stopping kindness, that make me a little verklempt. Sometimes there are beautifully odd moments that feel like a scene from a movie. Sometimes I almost burst out in laughter (more about old man Bob another day).
Today wasn't any of those. I ride one of two bus lines, depending on what I have going on after work. Today I hopped a popular line that is always full. I recognized the bus driver, a lady who is a bit too chatty, and is best friends with about half the people on the bus. When I got on it was standing room only, so I stood in the front by the driver, and got an up-close look at how absolutely distracted she is hurtling that bus down the road at frightening speeds. At one point she had almost disappeared underneath the steering wheel, trying to fish something out of her purse all while carrying on a conversation with another passenger.
Halfway along the route, we came up to a convenience store. On more than one occasion this bus driver has stopped the bus, hopped out, and gone in to get something to eat. This isn't uncommon on the Indy bus routes. I think the drivers have to take occasional breaks while working (once in a snow storm, the bus driver told us she had to pee, really, really bad, and hoped we wouldn't mind that she had to pull over.). Today as we rolled up, I "noticed" 5 cops cars in the parking lot, a man handcuffed, and a police officer sticking a cigarette in the cuffed man's mouth and lighting it. The bus driver pulled up and opened the door.
Bus Driver: Hey boo, what's going on?!!!
Cuffed Man: You tell ma mama, FUCK YOU!
Cop: HEY SHUT THE HELL UP
Bus Driver: Aw no, fool, I ain't gonna say that to her.
Soon to be convicted felon: Nah, you tell her I said, FUCK YOU! (he never lost the cigarette in his mouth as he stood there cuffed and screaming)
Cop: I SAID SHUT UP
Bus Driver: Aw, Boo, I'm gonna let her know what's up. I'll see you around. (really, really, you're gonna see him around?!!)
And then she continued on with the bus route, driving with her head below the dash, digging out her cell phone to call this man's mother.
"Hey, your boy is at the Super8 cuffed with cops all around him. I dunno what he did, but it don't look good. .."
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