Just by happenstance, today while we were at Borders looking for something for my mom and my brother, we found the Return of the King soundtrack. Oh yes, she is mine. Mine! :)
On it was a name that I didn't expect: Annie Lennox. She sings a song called Into The West, the last song on the CD, and...oh my god. The woman has got one of the most amazing voices I've ever heard, and the song is just hauntingly beautiful.
When this movie comes out, I am going to need a box of kleenex, because I'm going to be just weeping the entire time.
Is it just me, or does telling your diet/fitness program to go bugger off on a day that's other than your free day bring on a strange sense of euphoria?
I should clarify, I'm not *really* telling the diet to go bugger off, but over the next two days, it's going to be very difficult to stay on the program. So much so, in fact, that we're taking this week's free day tomorrow, so I really only have today to worry about.
Today, when we're having a potluck at work, that I've brought ice cream and home made caramel sauce to. Arg. My only hope is to just eat sparingly, which is possible, and will just take lots of willpower. I can do that. I hope.
But seriously. Everything has made me laugh this morning. A few things have just made me cackle insanely.
Like the sign-up sheet for today's potluck thingy, where one of my co-workers wrote that she is bringing in 'traditional evil green bean casserole.'
Like this email from a client, which opens by saying: My Exchange Server Ate It!!!!!!!!
Ah yes...life is good. :)
First off, yeah, I realize that I'm a weenie Californian now. But still. 39 degrees F in the morning is pretty chilly, especially when your coats are a) at work or b) in the trunk of the car.
But.
The chilly ride to work isn't the real pain in the ass.
I am at work right now. I am wearing a pair of fleecy pants that are usually too freaking hot to wear at any time of the year. I have a pair of thick socks on. I'm wearing a heavy, long sleeved shirt.
And yet. I was still really fucking cold.
So.
I put on my fleece jacket. And I draped the blanket over my legs. And I put on gloves, so I could fucking well type. Tell me that's not just absolutely ridiculous. But, now that I'm all bundled up, I'm finally warm!
Of course, I can't type worth a damn because of the gloves...
I have been feeling like shit because of this cold, and I am *still* feeling like shit, thus we are going to stay home tonight (Scotty, if we'd decided this more than 45 minutes before the game started, I'd have called you about coming to get our tickets), but anyway. Yesterday, Brett mentioned that, since I was feeling like crap, he was going to make something special for me for our free day.
See, he's been watching this guy Alton Brown's show on the Food Network--and while I'll sit here and roll my eyes a lot, because it seems like he's gone a little bit fanboy on me, I'll also say that what he made today was really freaking cool, and really freaking delicious.
The recipe is here: Banana Splitsville
It's sort of like bananas foster, if you know what that is--which I don't, but that's what the guy on the show said. First, it involves melting sugar into caramel, stopping at 320 degrees to make 'doodads,' which really have to be seen to be understood. Imagine, though, an amber colored swirl of hard candy that's made solely of sugar.
So, you make these doodad things, then you heat the sugar up a bit more, add some cream, stir and let boil a bit, then take it off the heat, and voila, homemade caramel. (Which I hope to have some more of tonight, over ice cream, yummy.)
But that's not all, oh no.
Quarter a banana, peel on, heavily coat the exposed part of the banana in sugar, remove the peel, then use a small kitchen torch to essentially do the creme brulee thing on the top of the bananas.
Chill a plate, swirl the caramel over the bottom of it, stack four banana pieces lincoln log style, add a scoop of ice cream to the top, and put a doodad on *that*, and there you have it.
I have no qualms about saying that the caramel was the best part, but the whole thing was really damn delicious.
See? Awesome. :)
...to the women who work in this building.
Ladies:
I can only assume, by your refusal to flush the toilet here at work, that you live like absolute animals at home. Perhaps your families don't mind seeing urine, floaters, and/or kool-aid filled toilet bowls, and that's fine with me. However, since you've decided to take it on tour, I'd like to point out a few things.
1. It's fucking disgusting to walk into a stall and see urine, floaters, and/or kool-aid filled toilet bowls. I am not your mother. Flush the goddamn toilet.
2. It's also rather unhygenic, don't you think? Particularly if it's 'that time of the month' or you're leaving floaters in the bowl.
3. Let's not forget the stench of unflushed toilet that permeates both the entire bathroom and people's clothing alike, leaving them smelling like the foul bathroom even after they leave it.
Please have some common courtesy and flush the toilet. You might even want to linger for a moment to make sure that the flush works--it only takes a few seconds, but it will greatly improve the bathroom situation for all of us.
It will also keep you from having the shit beaten out of you whenever I find out who does this vile stuff.
Hugs'n'kisses,
Liz
Nabbed from a few people on Livejournal:
First real kiss: Dan. Just after my 17th birthday. Late bloomer. :)
First job: Babysitting.
First self-purchased album: Michael Jackson's Thriller. Oy.
First funeral: My paternal grandma's, in 1991. It was also the last one I attended, not through any choice of my own.
First pet: Mork, a cute tabby cat, and Mindy, a border collie.
First piercing: My ears, I was eight.
First true love: Brett.
First big trip: Which one? First big trip I remember: going to Canada for my sixth birthday.
Last cigarette: I'd say never, but I took a single puff off a clove once about 10 or so years ago. Aside from that? Never. :)
Last big car ride: Hrm. Probably the one to Salt Lake, since I don't think going from here to SF really counts as a big car ride.
Last kiss: Last night.
Last good cry: Two weekends ago.
Last library book checked out: Er. I don't remember. I typically don't check out library books because I can't ever return them on time.
Last movie seen: Full movie? Finding Nemo. But I've seen bits and pieces of Speed, Shallow Hal, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets in recent days.
Last beverage drank: Diet Pepsi.
Last food consumed: Two turkey sausage patties on a tortilla, that I couldn't really taste, because of this stupid cold.
Last phone call: To some support monkey who left me a message this morning explaining, in oh so polite tones, that I was basically an idiot. Except that I wasn't doing what she thought I was doing, and I got to hear the lightbulb click on a few minutes later. "Ohhhhhh!" Duh.
Last TV show watched: Ground Force. I love BBC America. Ground Force kicks ass.
Last time showered: This morning.
Last shoes worn: My flat black work shoes...which are currently kicked under the desk.
Last CD played: Michelle Malone, Stompin' Ground.
Last item bought: Soda for this morning.
Last annoyance: Freaking toothache waking me up at 4am, and stupid stupid bank creatures.
Last disappointment: Finding out that a friend of my mom's is no longer in remission.
Last soda drank: Diet Pepsi.
Last ice cream eaten: A Toll House cookie ice cream sandwich last Saturday.
Last time scolded: Ugh. Last Friday.
Last shirt worn: Long sleeved teal colored shirt.
Last website visited: Livejournal. Before that, sjsharks.com.
Last thing that made you happy: When I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, *really* looked, I could see that the diet/fitness thing is working. It's subtle, but I can see it.
Last IM: Hrm. Brett, but it's been awhile.
Last cute thing you saw: A four year old singing along to the Indigo Girls, handing them beaded bracelets that she'd made.
First book: Disney's Jungle Book.
Last book: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
First concert: Christopher Cross. I was four.
Last concert: Indigo Girls, with Michelle Malone opening.
There are a whole host of reasons why I like Indigo Girls as much as I do. Someone bought a CD of theirs once, on my recommendation, and said, "I expected much more than just two throaty-voiced women strumming guitars and singing, for all that you rave about them."
I said, "Mark. Did you *listen* at all? Not just to the music and the harmony (ed: and god, but the harmony can just be so soul-achingly beautiful sometimes), but to the lyrics? If not, then you're missing the point."
He was a convert, after that.
But, examples:
The paws of fear upon your chest, only love can soothe that beast. And my words are paper tigers, no match for the predator of pain inside her. 'Love Will Come To You'
Welcome me to the city of angels, devil prophets still hold my hand. I walked your stillborn streets for hours, ethnic echoes spitting out their trials. 'Welcome Me'
But the question drowns in its futility, even I have got to laugh at me. No one gets to miss the storm of what will be just holding on for the ride. 'The Wood Song'
You have spent nights, thinking of me, Missing my arms, but you needed to leave. Leaving my cuts, leaving my burns, Hoping I'd learn. 'Blood and Fire'
Really, the best way to experience any of these is to hear them--only reading the lyrics probably doesn't get the full effect.
I also admit that it doesn't have the same effect on everyone that it does on me. I've always been one of those people that finds meaning in song lyrics, though, so this particular field is ripe for the plucking...so to speak.
Plus, as mentioned, there's just the plain and simple fact that their voices meld together in such an achingly beautiful way. It's hard to describe, and it's even better live.
It's even better than *that* when you can go to a concert with one of your best friends on this earth, both of you singing to your hearts content (as you always did, when listening to this duo, with you taking the high parts and him taking the low)...and getting compliments from the people around you because of it.
Live music is always one of my best experiences. It just so happens that these ladies consistently put on one of the best shows that I've ever seen.
And now that I've rambled about *that*... I'll simply say that the concert was fucking amazing, and that just being there with Matt, just like old times, was probably one of the sweetest, most pleasurable moments of my life. Talk about being blessed by friendship. I don't know what I'd do without him.
I had this entry typed up about how I'd finally seen Y Tu Mama Tambien, but it was erased with a careless keystroke, dammit.
So anyway. I saw the movie. Another one that was really surreal for me. Should've figured that it might be a bit, cough, *something* when I realized that it had a youth advisory sticker on it and it was unrated. I enjoyed it, but hot as much as other people may have, I think. It was okay. One of the other movies I rented the weekend before last was more enjoyable for me.
Taadaah. Not as in-depth as the last post was, but oh well.
Last year, when NaNoWriMo started, I was ready at the starting gun, pretty much. I woke up on the first and started writing. Mind you, I got maybe 7500 words into it and stalled out, due to a number of factors that just don't bear re-hashing. I figured I wouldn't sign up again, either, after last year's fiasco, I'd just go on about my life. But, as November started to roll around, I gave it some more thought, and figured that I might as well--what've I got to lose, right?
So, I reworked the NaNo page I put up last year, and I made a blog category for it, and I had the NaNo folks reactivate my account, and got myself ready for another long month of writing.
Except...
November rolled around, and I had *nothing*. I had nothing to write about, I couldn't even force an idea into my head. I've been thinking about writing about a junior league hockey team--something that'd probably turn into a series--but I haven't done enough research for that at all, and that's a barely formed idea anyway, *and* it's bad enough to admit that here in the blog, holy cow.
But, I had nothing. Had nothing to say, had nothing to write about, except putting the occasional entry here or the regular daily entry in the Phoenix blog.
This past weekend, though, I was struck by inspiration--woo, idea! Mind you, I haven't written much on it yet, and I'm not inclined to share what I've got thus far, but I know a few things: I will never make the 50,000 word goal, because I'm starting so late. Even if I could manage to get it finished, this is never something anyone would publish...the reasons for which, if I ever post it for people to read, would become clear. But it'll still be fun to write. :)
Because I sure as hell don't get it.
Malvo defense calls Muhammad, ex-wife to testify
So, Muhammad, the adult, has entered a plea of not guilty to the sniper killings. Malvo, on the other hand, has entered a plea of not guilty by reason of insanity. The kid's defense team is hoping to prove that Muhammad brainwashed him into doing what he did.
Explain this to me. How the fuck is Muhammad supposed to testify in Malvo's defense, if he's claimed that he didn't actually do any of it in the first place? Wouldn't he pretty much be incriminating himself if he took the stand here? 'Why yes, your honor, I brainwashed this boy into helping me to commit murders that I didn't actually commit.' Uh.
Freaky.
Today is going to suck muchly, oh yes.
Three of the six members on my team are out--two of them called in sick, one *called in her vacation* last Thursday (which she also took off), when the manager was out. How lovely. The fourth is late, and the fifth...well, let's just say that we all know who that one is.
Just fair warning, though. I am not going to be in a happy mood today.
Also. Those fucking housekeeping bitches threw away every last one of my empty water bottles, even though I had a sticky note next to them that said 'DO NOT THROW WATER BOTTLES AWAY.' The sticky note is also gone. Fuckers.
Okay, you know what? No matter how you feel about all the stuff going on in Iraq--and please note, I am not asking for opinions here, I don't want a debate in my comments today--announcing the fact that there's a covert force hunting Hussein and bin Laden seems kind of stupid, don't you think?
Report: New Covert Force Hunts Saddam, Bin Laden (From Yahoo)
Attorney reveals suspect's diagnosis
Last week, an 85-year-old man was arrested for killing his 86-year-old wife. Today, his attorney revealed that he's got Alzheimer's disease.
I'm not going to say much about this article, but I have one comment to make, about the statement at the end.
Some experts say it is rare for Alzheimer's patients to erupt into violence.
I worked in nursing homes for several years, and a good portion of that was in the lockdown unit where the Alzheimer's patients stayed. The reason for keeping in the lockdown was twofold: first, they were a flight risk--not in the traditional sense that a prisoner is a flight risk, but they were just simply absentminded enough to go wandering. Secondly, however, was for the protection of the other patients in the facility.
In my experience with Alzheimer's, it's actually *not* that rare for patients to erupt into violence. Some of them swing their fists or kick without realizing what they're doing. Some of them swing their fists out of sheer frustration--they're trying to communicate, they know it's not working, and they so they do what they know will work. As good at ducking as we got, it was never good enough, and not a day went by that someone didn't get hit or kicked.
Rare for them to erupt into violence, huh? Tell that to all the people who regularly worked that unit. The rare thing? For any of us to be unbruised.
All part of the job.
My friend Jeremy would be so proud--TiVo caught The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert off the Sundance channel sometime yesterday, so I sat down to watch it last night. I fear the thought of what TiVo is going to recommend next, though, I have to admit.
Anyway. Not a bad movie--but very very surreal in parts, maybe more because I see Hugo Weaving and I think Elrond, and I see Terence Stamp and I think Zod. I mean, Bernadette going from tearful about Trumpet to "KNEEL BEFORE ZOD!" in one's mind is kind of freaky, you know?
The costumes, though, were amazing, and I think the part that really made me cackle was them getting the aboriginal guy who caught them mid-rehearsal all dressed up.
So, yeah. Very surreal, but enjoyable.
Yay, DirecTV.
Heard on the news this morning:
That nanny who hit those two kids in Danville? She was driving on a suspended license, which was already publicized. Also already publicized was the fact that she's had several DUIs in the past--probably the reason for the suspended license.
But get this.
The cops found cocaine in her car.
Naturally, they can't do any sort of blood test on her to see whether she tests positive for drugs, because they couldn't find her right away.
Hmmm. A *clue!*
Wonder if that's why she fled the scene. :P
Nanny thought fatally injured children were all right
If you're not familiar with this, last week, a woman--a *nanny*, who didn't have a drivers license (because it had been suspended--NINE TIMES)--hit and killed two children, aged 10 and 7. She left the scene, and proceeded to elude police for several days. They finally found her in San Jose last Tuesday.
I'm just stunned by this, though. From the article:
A nanny suspected of killing two Danville children in a hit-and-run accident Sunday, acknowledged that she was the driver who struck the two children, but said she thought the children would be OK when she left the scene.
Fucking christ, woman. You hit these kids with your car, why the hell would you think they'd be okay? Would *you* be okay if some asshat fucktard driver (who shouldn't have been driving in the first goddamn place) hit YOU?
The article goes on to say:
Barreto was arrested Tuesday in San Jose and said she did not believe the accident was a classic hit-and-run because she stopped to check on the welfare of the children and remained at the scene for about 15 minutes.
Oh. Good. Good, she stayed there for a whole fifteen minutes, and then left the scene IN A CAB. She didn't wait for the paramedics to arrive, she didn't wait for the police to arrive, she stayed there for about fifteen minutes, and then LEFT. God.
She went back to her apartment, but 'left when she saw a police officer.'
You know, having been in car accidents before, I know they can scramble your brain. I've never been involved in a pedestrian accident, but I can only imagine the thoughts that must have been going through this woman's mind. But running from the police? Not good.
She's been charged with two counts of vehicular manslaughter. That warms the cockles of my heart. I hope they don't give her the death penalty, though. I'd rather just see her rot in jail for the rest of her life, haunted by the thought of what she did to those two children, and to the lives of everyone who loved them.
Idiots.