Showing posts with label bad choices. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bad choices. Show all posts

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Summer Shopping on the Cheap(ish)

I love to shop, specifically for good deals. Stores like Nordstrom Rack are my playground. I can stay for hours! But, with this whole trying to save money business, those frequent Marshalls or Rack trips are gone.

I decided to allow myself $100 or less for some summer basics that are versatile, easy to mix and match. After taking stock of what's already in my closet, I made a very crude moodboard and got to ordering.

Old Navy T-Shirt Dress (Tall)


This dress has pretty good reviews, comes in tall sizes, and was under $20 with a promotion. I ordered a Tall medium and Tall large. The medium fit well but was fitted enough that it was a little sexy and required I be more mindful of my undergarment choice. I wanted something more casual, so I went with the large. After a couple hours of wear, it stretched out so much I was embarrassed to be wearing it in public. I hope it shrinks in the wash. (PS: There was also a bodycon version of the dress, but I'm not sure if it's still available)

Old Navy Linen Blend Shirt (Tall)
I got this because it looked comfortable for the hot summer and work appropriate. I always forget how long Old Navy shirts are in Tall. I'm 5'11" and most of my height comes from my legs, so most regular sizes are long enough in the torso for me. Sleeve length, dress/skirt length, and inseams are where I require tall sizes. Anyway, in a Tall medium the shirt was tunic length, which wasn't what I was looking for.

Array of Old Navy and Gap denim shorts
Oh, the shorts! I ordered six pairs of shorts, at least. I got different styles, washes, and sizes, but I had my heart set on the Gap boyfriend shorts. I was going for the 90s throwback light wash, a color that inspired a look of disgust from my husband. Turns out, I'm too curvy for boyfriend shorts. In my regular size, the thighs were tighter than I wanted, and when I went up a size, the shorts were just too big overall and made me look kind of huge.

I went with these Old Navy boyfriend shorts in my normal size, ultramarine wash. The inseam is a little short (3 1/2 inches, no clear difference between the Tall and regular sizes) and the thighs slightly fitted, but they got a thumbs up from the husband and are comfortable enough, especially for $20. 

Target Maxi Dresses


I started with the black and white dress, which I loved. However, I went with the black dress because it's easier to wear. It doesn't show off your body's imperfections as much and, like the large ON dress, has less specific undergarment requirements. It was $20 with an apparel coupon on the Cartwheel app. Both dresses are plenty long for wearing with flat sandals.

I also ordered some sandals and a pair of Keds from Nordstrom using a giftcard but they haven't arrived yet. Not to mention a J Crew order due to an untimely return of some work clothes I ordered in the Spring that left me with store credit instead of a refund.


Monday, October 1, 2012

From the Frontlines of the War on Crap Disguised as Food

I've already admitted to liking my fair share of crappy food. I eat junk food and go to McDonald's sometimes. Yeah, I said it! But I also try to incorporate organic products when possible and when (I think) it really matters. I follow the "Dirty Dozen" list, for example. Even when I don't buy organic, I at least prefer to get food that is actually food. These preferences can result in higher food costs. Higher than exclusive Whole Foods shoppers' bills? No, but definitely higher than my frugal boo would like.

Boo prefers shopping at places like Superior Grocers, a local chain with super low produce prices and several lines of crap, er, products that are also super low in price. In my opinion, some of these things are actually overpriced because they aren't really even food.
Superior Grocers: Purveyor of Fine Foods, like Sugar Water and Salt Covered Chemicals
Juice is the bloodiest battleground in my house. Sometimes my boo comes home boasting of the incredible deal he got on "juice" which is really just sugar water. I tell him I can make some sugar water for free, artificial color included, with what's in the pantry. Nevertheless, I decided to go to Superior on Monday to try to do the boo a solid and save us some money. That is when I found this:
Bottom center, look closely
CONTAINS NO JUICE. NONE. APPLE ARTIFICIALLY FLAVORED DRINK! Line your kids up, everybody! We've got apple flavored drink for sale!

Friday, September 28, 2012

Update on Those Bloody Shelves

They are finally up.

Where was our drill? We still don't know, but we borrowed one from my boo's brother. We didn't have the right bit to drill through the bracket so we could have holes that matched up with the studs. Improvisation was required.

Then, after we were finished, he found the correct bit in a bag.

The shelves look nice I guess, but one is about six inches farther to the left than I wanted it to be. I measured where I wanted them to go before I found the studs, and then once the studs were found, things got wonky real fast. Oh well.

This is my only real concern.


Are all my beautiful vintage cocktail glasses going to slide off and crash to the ground?

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

The Tale of Everything Becomes Annoying

Alternate titles* - The Tale of When Romance Helps with Rocky Moments, Except That Those Moments Make it Difficult to Generate Romance and The Tale of These Bloody Shelves. Pick your angle. Choose your own adventure.

Sometimes being in a committed relationship is like torture, only it's torture that you signed up for. Some of us even spent years longing for it and thousands upon thousands of dollars celebrating it. But you better believe most of us didn't see shit like this coming.

Am I talking finances?

Am I talking about matters in the bedroom?

Am I talking about trust issues?

No, worse. I'm talking about my boo's inability to buy a freaking stud-finder when he says he will. Stick with me. There's a lot to go over.

if it wasn't clear, the gorilla is me.
Sunday evening - After many, MANY sweaty hours of working on some of my projects, I sat down to eat some dinner with boo. I desperately needed a shower, and it was getting late, so he offered to go to Home Depot for me to get the screws and a stud-finder for hanging the bloody shelves I bought from Ikea.  I read one too many horror stories about these shelves ripping out of people's walls, even when they used real bad-ass screws, because they hadn't screwed into studs. It was important to me that we find studs.  I made this very clear to him. Very clear.

Approximately 30 minutes later he returns. He says he's found just the thing. I say, great! With these screws and the studs we should be in business! He says, I didn't get the stud-finder.

HE DIDN'T GET THE STUD-FINDER.

I'll get it tomorrow, he says. He works next to a Home Depot, so this should be easy. It should take all of ten minutes.

Monday after work- I'm running approximately 8,000 errands while he is doing things like going for a freaking jog and nerding out to photoshop tutorials on youtube. I'd like him to find studs during this time, but he can't. And why can't he?

BECAUSE HE DIDN'T GET THE STUD-FINDER.

He forgot. So, that became errand 8,001 for me.

I finally got home at 8:15, one hour before I needed to get in bed, only to find that he hadn't thought to vacuum our horribly gross carpets before his mom's visit. (She stays over every other Monday.) He also hadn't thought to read my mind to know that he should do it.

Instead of screaming, “WHY DIDN’T YOU RUN THE FREAKIN’ VACUUM”, I managed to say “oh no, the carpets are so dirty! We need to vacuum before your mom comes”

He said it was okay, I said it wasn’t, he volunteered to do it. I sat in the bedroom eating gummy bears so as not to criticize him for not vacuuming to my liking.

Tuesday  - the shelves were not even close to being up, and the idea of getting dinner made and cleaned up AND putting up shelves made me feel stabby. That's when I remembered this -

My boo says, on multiple occasions, “I can help you with dinner so you don’t have to do everything yourself”

It occurred to me that if he helped my slow-ass with dinner, we could get to the shelf business a little faster.

I say, I need to ask you for help with dinner tonight.
My boo says, sure, I can help after my run.

AFTER HIS RUN?!

I just can't even. Before I even got a chance to post this last night, we realized we don't have the right kind of mothafuckin battery for the mothafuckin stud-finder. I do recall that several months ago I came upon some of these batteries on clearance, only for my boo to proclaim "when will we ever need those?"

The time is now, it seems.


*a thousand thanks to my friend Cristina for input and title ideas!

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Broken Down in MX - Worth It For The Big Metal Animals

You are probably still recuperating from the excitement of my weekend "hike", but there is more from last weekend that you need to know about. I'm talkin family, lobsters, border towns + border patrol, big metal animals, and broken down cars.
Not as maravilloso of a tiempo as I had hoped, Pat.
My in-laws are on a Baja California kick for some reason, and last weekend the plan was to drive down there and do the following: church in Tijuana, hit up our favorite jugo stand, drive to Puerto Nuevo for a lobster lunch, horseback ride on the beach in Rosarito, wait for four hours to cross the border, go home.
Sunday Fun Day!
As we made our way through the beach cities toward Puerto Nuevo, I was ecstatic to see a generous selection of big metal animals. I instantly thought of the first post that brought me to The Bloggess and started snapping pictures thinking, "she's going to be so proud!" If you don't know what I'm talking about, you better click on that link and educate yourself. Before you wreck yourself.
"Knock-knock, motherfucker" via the link above
I intended to write a post about all the fun we had and all the (metal) animals I saw. We went to church. Drank juice. Ate lobster. Rode horses on the beach. All accordingly to plan, until! Our car broke down, still in Rosarito, requiring that we take a bus back to the border, cross on foot, and find a bus back to Orange County. A bus that was searched by Border Patrol. After that, I thought I might post a lengthy complaint about that experience, but then what would become of my metal animals? Nay, I shall push my suffering aside and show you their splendor as originally intended.
ole!
"dinosaurs and giraffes not to scale"
peep the more traditional artesania to the left
giant horses to pull an even gianter wagon
"hey jake, won't this look perfect in the front yard? help me strap it to the van"
Not giant, and from my neighborhood Ross, but still good.
Mexico - a country known for its artisan crafts like alebrijes and the ever popular talavara tile. In Mexico you can buy up enough artisan goods to make your house look like a real life hacienda! Thanks to the emerging giant animal trend, you can now also make your house look like a theme park. Or Jurassic Park.

I'm on my way back there today, so let me know if you'd like me to inquire about prices!

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Did I Burn My Leg For This?

Not a country song, though it should be.

I burned the shit out of my leg posing on a motorcycle, and all I got was an alright picture. (Coming up with different versions of this joke is one of my favorite things to do.)

A couples weeks ago, my office had its annual summer picnic. One of the newest people to join the office surprised us all by rolling up on a big, shiny Harley. He is a different breed than a lot of people here - a little flashy, a little loud, plenty outgoing, and young. For example, he has a ring that could be described as "bling".

Although some people here probably wasted no time in talking about him and his shiny Harley having ways behind his back (or on a blog), none of us had a problem with him using that Harley to provide music at the picnic.

It also took very little convincing for me to have no problem posing on it.

The motorcycle may be shiny but I'm shiny AND happy
Did you know that motorcycles get so hot that they can verrrrrrrrrry seriously burn you? It's true. Oh, what's that, you say you thought this was common knowledge? Not common enough, apparently.

It also turns out that I know very little about burns. It was a minor second-degree burn since it had some blistering, but the blister was pretty small. I bandaged it up, failing to think through my choice to let some of the sticky part of the bandage touch the discolored skin that was not blistering. When I went to take it off, a chunk of skin came with it. Now I have a crater on my leg in addition to a big circular patch of purple skin, which is now flaking off. Shaving my legs has proven quite difficult. And for those details, you're welcome!

I make bad choices. 

Sunday, July 29, 2012

I Don't Know What to Name You

Tomorrow I am flying to DC for a short work-related trip, which might interrupt this blogging momentum I've had going this week.
RHODC -  Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of, err, "Fame"
Lunch with those ladies is on the agenda. Also, when looking for this picture I saw a headline that read "People Watching the Real Housewives Destined to Fail in Life?" - if the answer is yes and the implication is that I must stop watching, why even wake up tomorrow? Slightly related to one of my points below, I just read that Toya Wright might be joining the Atlanta Housewives. I hope it's true! (If you even get this reference, we are soulmates.)

Before I go, let me just say a few things.
If I can't use you, WHAT IS THE POINT?
1. Southern California is not taking to kindly to my constructive criticism. The Tanned Gods of OC have rendered the pool in my complex unusable for the next 3 weeks, at a minimum, while a new drain is installed. Something about safety code non-compliance, blah blah blah.
"Steebie" J and Joseline of Love and Hip Hop- I just..I can't...ugh.
2. I've found a reality show to add to my very short list of those reality shows whose manufactured drama even I am not willing to consume. Love and Hip Hop - Atlanta. This disappoints me greatly because I usually spend weekends catching up on all the crap that my boo doesn't like to watch. With this and other crappier crap (Snooki and JWoww - I expected so much more) making up most of my options, I've been resorting to cooking shows. Sigh.
My photog skills are stellar, I know.
3. I bought four of these prints from the Rose Bowl Flea Market - 3 horizontal and one vertical. I finally got around to framing them, and the plan was to hang them in the dining area. Only now, every arrangement I come up with is worst than the last, and I start hating it all with the fire of a thousand suns.

That is all. Now I am off to eat all afternoon long with my sister-in-law.

Saturday, July 28, 2012

D-bag Retreat at Hermit Falls

Thank you, Mr. Romero, for the pic of your party times
"Did you got to Bass Lake?!"
Um, no, well...I thought I was going hiking. And swimming, but by the looks of it, yes? I did?


Let me tell you the story of how a hike led to inadvertent participation in a doucebag convention. A few days ago I wrote about my homesickness for Portland, Oregon. I find Oregon to be superior to California in almost every conceivable way, but my job and boo have anchored me in Southern California. (That's for anyone tempted to yell "then why don't you go back?!" at me.) As I mentioned, there is an abundance of concrete here in Southern California. You'd need to use both hands and feet to count the number of freeways in the area, and even city streets (in some areas) are huge, multi-lane monstrosities with speed limits nearing those of Oregon freeways.

California Dreamin'.




I admitted that unlike most Oregonians, I was never even all that outdoorsy. But in a lot of Portland neighborhoods, all you have to do to see some nature is step outside your door.
I'm in the forest!!
Unfortnately, the residential neighborhoods in 'SoCal', with their identical, generic landscaping and lack of mature trees, do nothing to satisfy my longing for the lush, green gardens and tree lined streets of my youth.

"Put concrete where the grass is and it's perfect" - boo, a hyper-Californian
In an effort to find things other than sunshine to appreciate about Southern California and surround myself with some foliage, I grabbed my boo and headed into the Angeles National Forest in the San Gabriel Mountains. The mission was to hike to one of Southern California's few fresh water swimming holes, complete with a little waterfall that doesn't even dry up in the summer! It only took us one hour to drive up to the trailhead at Chantry Flats, which is less time than it takes me to get to work everyday. The parking area was pretty crowded, and there were emergency vehicles everywhere. NBD. There were human traffic jams all along the trail, which was frustrating. As we walked, I noticed a lot more litter than I had anticipated, but I tried to ignore it and focus on the beautiful trees and creek.

Once we got to the actual swimming hole at Hermit Falls, my heart sank. It was like all the ugly stereotypes of what young Californians are like were playing out in front of my eyes! Not to mention the graffiti and litter everywhere, including where we were swimming. As U.S. Forest Service officials finished cutting down a hazardous tree, one summed up my thoughts by asking "what is this, the douchebag convention?" 

YES, IT WAS! Get to know the cast of characters in attendance:

As the aroma of mari-huana filled the warm afternoon air, drunk, stoned,  high, and/or otherwise generally idiotic people jumped from rocks anywhere from 15-60 feet from the water. Nevermind the fact that by 2 p.m. that day three people had been airlifted out after jumping. Nevermind the fact that someone is severely injured or killed there at least once a week, according to one of the officials I talked to.

Ugh. It was so gross. I finally gave in and swam a little, even going down the natural granite "slides" a couple times. The whole time I had this sense that we should leave before we witnessed someone fall to their death. How naive I was to think that I would be mostly surrounded by people who had come to the swimming hole for the same reason I did.

The search for enjoyment of California's natural splendor continues.

Monday, July 23, 2012

Real Simple is Real Freakin' Full of Lies

One day while checking out at Loehmann's, the young cashier absentmindedly rattled off the mandatory spiel for three free magazine subscriptions. Well, free trial magazine subscriptions. For 3 months, I could get three magazines of my choice for free. All I had to do was provide my credit card information because they would automatically charge for for an annual subscription at the end of the three months.  Three for three for free! I made a mental note to cancel immediately  and took her up on this offer. I chose Real Simple, InStyle, and Food and Wine.

If you know me at all, I'm sure you won't be surprised to learn that I failed to cancel the free trial subscriptions. So, now I get Real Simple. (InStyle and Food and Wine, too.) And you know what? I kind of hate Real Simple. She reminds me of all the pretty mean girls I've hated and simultaneously wanted to be friends with. And she lies.

From this month - "How to Snack Smarter"

Ideas include 5 cherry tomatoes with 2 tablespoons of goat cheese, 2 teaspoons of almond butter on 1 slice of toast, and 1 rice cake with 1 tablespoon of peanut butter.

We could spend a lot of time talking about the ridiculously tiny portions, or how it doesn't seem like a great use of time or food to make chipotle yogurt, minty pea dip, or curried yogurt when you can only eat between 2 teaspoons - 2 tablespoons of each one. But are these really lies or just unreasonable expectations? Let's continue.

I had stupidly high hopes when I saw this part of the "How to Snack Smarter" feature:

Is Real Simple in my head?
I do pretty much all of these. The word or doesn't apply. I graze all day on junk because I'm sleepy and/or bored and it's whatever I have on hand. Because I bought it. Because I fucking love snacks, and junky snacks in particular. If I had a food journal, it would show that I consume copious amounts of potato chips, candy, cookies, ice cream, fruity wine, and sometimes homemade baked goods. My meals are sometimes healthy but also include bacon guacamole dogs, pasta in homemade cream sauce, and pulled pork sandwiches.

I thought I might see some of me reflected in the food journals of the three women with "very different challenges". The "boredom snacker" was a little inappropriately named, I thought. She says she has a hard time steering clear of treats for her kids. Treats(?) like honeyed almonds, raisin bran, and crackers with peanut butter. Um. The "impulse snacker" was more my style, but her descriptions did not include quantities. The "all-day snacker" eats things like yogurt, fruit, carrots, and grilled chicken all day. What a terrible habit! How will she ever break it?!

Hmm....could it be that these women LIED?! Yes, it could be because who in their right mind would let Real Simple publish their actual food journal?

Here are my suggestions, in red, for making these food journals entries, and thus the feature itself, more accurate:
 

































































Let's keep it one-hundred, shall we Real Simple (and her readers)?

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Oh, Yes They Did! A Story of my For Realzzz Birthday

So, even though I started out all sadcatinastripedshirt-like, my birthday ended up being kind of great. This is mostly due to the wonderful, loving people who spoiled me with love and fabulous things that had me saying, "oh no you didn't! But ohhhh yes you did!"

1. I have a starbucks card, and I am a gold member. As a result, I get free birthday drinks. I got something big and expensive. Holla!
2. I bought myself a cupcake and a fancy root beer. The cupcake wasn't great, but I ate it anyway.
At least it was cute.
3. I got a lot of computer love via facebook.
4. I got a lot of love on the telephone line via phone calls and text messages.
5. My sister sent me a video of my nephew singing me happy birthday.
6. My boo gave me a card that made me cry and hid this present for me in an empty toblerone box:


Those some big, green stones!
7. He also took me out to dinner and let me choose the restaurant. I chose a hipster nightmare called Chapter One: The Modern Local (wtf, right? I had high hopes) in gentrifying Downtown Santa Ana. Worst service ever in life. I think the spray tanned and bedazzled Orange County gods were punishing me for the blasphemous things I said about Pat and Oscar's.  

Special features: ranch dressing snobbery and long wait times after ordering
8. There were birthday cards from friends, a card and giftcard from my brother, and a present from my mama waiting in the mailbox! She sent me a trio of journals and notepads.
9. My life twin took me out to a lunch that included an appetizer, meal, AND dessert and coffee! More is more!
10. And lastly, I arrived home yesterday to find this beauty waiting for me in the kitchen:
Mmhmm, that says what you think it says
Thank you Mom, Dad, and Liz! I am so excited. What should I cook in it first??

There are also a couple late arrival presents on their way, a birthday happy hour with friends, and potential jury duty coming my way. Uh, hello happy belated birthday! Jury duty is what's up. I'm going to walk in and say, "it makes sense for me to be here as I have just turned the page into age 28."

I don't know how to end this post. End.

Monday, January 2, 2012

Let's Eat! Holiday Successes and Scary Looking Failures


I did a decent amount of cooking and baking this holiday season, but not all of it was successful. For example, although the cookies to the right were pretty adorable (toot, toot! that's the sound of me honking my own horn), they were kinda chewy. I'm not sure if I overworked the dough or if I didn't wrap them well enough before I iced them. There was a day between baking and icing. In any case, it wasn't my best work. The recipes are great, and I use them every Christmas. I think this was a case of user-error, so don't hesitate to give the recipes a try. They are from an old issue of Martha Stewart Living, but you can find them here on my mom's blog.


I didn't purchase any fancy treat boxes or tins for the cookies this year, especially since my boo has instructed me not to bring anything into his mother's house that might create more clutter. Every time I pass by the baskets and tins from years past, I get what he means. So instead, I put the cookies on a paper plate, wrapped some tissue paper around the plate, and tied it up with ribbon from Michael's. Ribbon from Michael's brings me a very strange amount of joy. Inside that little package sits shortbread wedges, sugar cookies with royal icing, and a little bag of truffles. See below for the shortbread recipe.

I must say, the truffles were a huge hit. I didn't have the alcohol called for by the recipe, but I did have some Cointreau and cherry brandy. I decided to divide the batch in half and make two flavors. Unfortunately, my eyeballing skills are lacking, and I didn't divide it into two equal parts. The Cointreau batch didn't have enough Cointreau, but the cherry brandy batch was a huge hit. Very delicious. There's my boo to the left, carefully rolling the cooled chocolate into balls. It's messy work, and he did it all while I cooked for Christmas Eve dinner!

You might be wondering where the scary looking failures are. The sugar cookies were an internal failure (too chewy, oh, and my first batch, too done), and the truffles clearly a success. Well, before I get to it, take a look at the one cute-packing-purchase I did make. Striped treat bags! Those pictured are cookie bags for my coworkers, but the truffles were put in similar bags and tied at the top with a ribbon. For these, I folded the bags, punched holes in the flap, and strung pieces of ribbon through to tie them up. Now, the ugly.

The in-progress picture of my green bean casserole and scalloped potatoes is here. The image of the finished product is buried deep within the darkest depths of my memory. You will have to trust my description because I will never allow you to see it.


Look at those fresh green beans, cooking away in organic vegetable stock while the onions carmelized in the pan! Or take a look at the layers and layers of potatoes just waiting for boo to get back from the store with the rest of the heavy cream! What could go wrong? EV. ER. Y. THING. Within moments of snapping this picture, I noticed that the potatoes were rapidly changing color. They had only been sliced a short while before, and although I know that potatoes can turn all funky colors after being exposed to oxygen (I think that's the deal), I never knew it could happen so quickly.

By the time I got them in the oven some were grey. I also think we sliced them way too thinly. It's possible there were too many and the cream should have covered the top layer completely. This was my first time making these by myself, and let me tell you, they sure didn't look like my grandma's. I didn't quite have enough cheese to cover the top, so the ugly bits weren't covered up. Then I took them to my boo's mom's house where they were heated and reheated at least twice. The green beans were fine except for all the reheating. By the time we ate everything, the top layer of the potatoes looked black, they were oily, and the beans were completely shriveled. Such a fail.

I think my biggest success was one I didn't get a picture of, naturally. Chipotle Bacon Deviled Eggs on New Year's Eve. Everyone agreed they were bomb. I had little knowledge of how to successfully boil and peel eggs, so finding this was a big help.

Maybe I was like a Top Chef contestant cooking his protein three ways or making an extra dish when he doesn't have to. I did too much and ended up doing few things well. Bummer.

*Here is the recipe for the shortbread, courtesy of my mom and her good sense to hold onto that Martha Stewart Living issue from nearly 10 years ago.

Shortbread Cookie Recipe - Makes 3 dozen

1 pound (4 sticks) unsalted butter (doesn't say softened but we think it should be)
1 cup firmly packed light-brown sugar
5 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1. Heat oven to 275. Grease three 8-inch springform pans. (I have only one 9-inch springform pan, so I did it in batches. I only got two batches out of the dough.) In the bowl of an electric mixer, beat butter and sugar on medium-high speed until light and creamy, about 2 minutes. Add vanilla and beat. Add flour and salt, beginning on low speed and increasing to medium, until flour is just combined.

2. Divide dough evenly among prepared pans. Using a spatula, spread dough out to edges of pan, making sure the tops are smooth and level. (Know that "spreading" the dough did not happen for me. The dough is not super easy to work with, and I had to use my knuckles to press it into the pan. As a result, the whole smooth and level thing didn't really work out.)

3. Lightly score dough in each pan into 12 equal wedges. (My mom uses a 10" bamboo skewer cut to the width of the pan and pressed it into the dough. I do the same. However, I did 16 equal wedges. Since my pan was a little bigger, this worked out fine, but with an 8-inch pan it would probably be a stretch.) Prick a pattern into each wedge with the tins of a fork.

4. Bake until shortbread is dry and barely golden, about 50 minutes. (I think mine was a bit overdone.) Cool on a wire rack. Using a sharp knife, follow the score marks to cut into neat wedges.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

I paid $20 to chaperone this high school dance

And all I got out of it was a facebook status update that resulted in this blog post.


A few weeks ago, I ventured out of my safe, warm, usually snack filled apartment for a night out on the town. Which town? I'm not sure, but according to google maps, it is where placentia, fullerton, and maybe anaheim touch. So we will call it plafullerheim. We went to this particular club in plafullerheim for the birthday party of a high school friend of my boo. Like the only other Orange County club I've been too recently, this was located in a shopping area where you might find a dollar store, mini-mart, taqueria, nail salon with Korean art, and a donut shop. Upon our arrival, we were dismayed to find the guest list was closed and we had to pay $20 per person. $20?! Can't I just sneak in through the Panaderia next door? No.



When we went in, I was immedaitely struck by the malodorous quality of the establishment, but luckily there was something else going on that distracted me from the smell. As it turns out, we had inadvertently paid to enter a children's gym! Weird. Those kids must be night owls.




Ohhhhh no, these are just the X clubbers, branded with the black marker X that distinguishes the 18+ cohort from the upper echelon of fluorescent bracelet wearers drinking up all the bar's liquor. A bar WITHOUT diet coke, btw. There were many, many X marked hands that evening, and I am pretty sure they were all high school seniors.


I struggled to keep an expressionless face as I observed the teens sometimes awkwardly, sometimes too expertly, grind against each other. I shouldn't see this! If I knew their parents, I would feel compelled to inform them! Too old. I am tooooo old for this shit. And the outfits of these young women didn't make it any easier to hide the judgment from my face, or the sadness.




What the hell ever happened to a going out top and jeans? I used to go out a lot, and that was the key to a successful going-out-outfit! Sure, there were handfuls of women that made poor choices like mini skirts and dresses that made it impossible to keep one's dignity in tact. But now! Now such attire is practically a fucking requirement! And whhyyyyyyy the plasticky material? You cannot, I repeat cannot, wear a dress and get low. Or twerk. Or grind. Or any of those things that aren't a great idea to begin with but can be very fun. Well, you can, but not without ruining any chance of showing an ounnce of respect for yourself. This can be difficult enough for young women without compounding it by showing your vag as you literally get down on the floor. Or letting your whole ass hang out of your spandex mini while you back it up. These things happened, but since I wasn't ACTUALLY chaperoning a dance, there was nothing I could do about it.


See how appropriate I look?

I have a more serious take on this type of behavior that I'll get into another time, but for now I'll just say this: Ladies, if you want the freedom to dirty dance the night away, please wear pants. If you want to show some leg, please wear shorts. Even booty shorts if it means keeping your private parts private. Thanks, much appreciated.

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