Wall next to my bathtub is still best for pictures, as grade 10 scenester as it is.
Matt was saving a picture on my computer the other day, and said, "Oh, okay, boyfriend one through five." I didn't know what he was talking about, and then saw I had saved a bunch of pictures of Robert Pattinson (including the one above) with under the name "boyfriend" and a number. He made me guess who it would be a picture of and I totally thought it was Nick Jonas. Fortunately, sometimes I do lust after men in my own age group. I love this picture of Pattinson despite the cigarette.
Delicious (to the taste buds and eyes) crab cakes my grandfather made.
Since I've been posting and talking a lot about the joy that is the soft pretzel, I will do you the favor of sharing this recipe. I follow this recipe but, after diligently making batch after batch of pretzels, I've tweaked a few steps.
Ingredients
(Makes 8 servings, but this varies depending how big or small you make your pretzels)
4 teaspoons active dry yeast
1 teaspoon white sugar
1 1/4 cups warm water
5 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 white sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon vegetable oil (though I use olive oil and it works fine)
1 egg
1 tablespoon water
kosher salt
2. In a larger bowl, mix together the flour, sugar, and salt until it starts to remind you of that scene from Scarface where Tony Montana has that giant pile of coke on his desk in front of him. If you're a fan of Scarface, like I am, you can dab a bit of the flour on your nose to get the full Tony Montana experience.
When the dough is smooth, place into a lightly oiled bowl and cover with a plastic wrap. Leave the dough to rise in the bowl at room temperature for about an hour. After an hour, it should be about doubled in size.
Ingredients
(Makes 8 servings, but this varies depending how big or small you make your pretzels)
4 teaspoons active dry yeast
1 teaspoon white sugar
1 1/4 cups warm water
5 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 white sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon vegetable oil (though I use olive oil and it works fine)
1 egg
1 tablespoon water
kosher salt
1. In a bowl, dissolve the yeast and 1 tablespoon sugar in warm water. Let this sit for about 10 minutes. In the below picture, the yeast will look like number 1 when you first combine the yeast, sugar, and water. It should look like number 2 after 10 minutes.
2. In a larger bowl, mix together the flour, sugar, and salt until it starts to remind you of that scene from Scarface where Tony Montana has that giant pile of coke on his desk in front of him. If you're a fan of Scarface, like I am, you can dab a bit of the flour on your nose to get the full Tony Montana experience.
After the Scarface montage, make a well in the middle of the flour mixture and pour the yeast mixture and then the vegetable oil into it. Blend all the ingredients together with a wooden spoon and, when this becomes too stiff, knead with your hands. Continue this until the dough is smooth. If the dough is dry, you can gradually add a few tablespoons of water as needed. Since my hands are very tiny and I do not have a mixer, my dough leaves much to be desired. Fortunately, you don't have to be a great dough maker to make great pretzels. Here's a picture of how my dough looks when I've given up on achieving dough-y smoothness.
When the dough is smooth, place into a lightly oiled bowl and cover with a plastic wrap. Leave the dough to rise in the bowl at room temperature for about an hour. After an hour, it should be about doubled in size.
3. After you've left your dough to rise, preheat your oven to 375 degrees fahrenheit. Grab a piece of the dough about half the size of your palm (this isn't very accurate because I wing it every time I make pretzels) and roll into a rope, and twist into a pretzel shape. You can see mine below.
Place your formed pretzels onto a greased baking sheet.
4. When you've finished forming all your pretzels and placed them on a baking sheet, mix together the egg with 1 tablespoon of water. Also have kosher salt handy next to this egg wash. Brush one of your pretzels with the egg wash, and then immediately sprinkle kosher salt over the pretzel. It's important to sprinkle the salt on the individual right away (rather then egg wash all pretzels then sprinkle the salt) because the egg wash also acts like a glue to the salt, which is way more delicious for my fellow sodium-lovers.
5. Place in preheated oven for 10 minutes and they're ready! They will be slightly more brown on the bottom than the top which is a fact that makes me yearn for one of those pretzels makers where they cook standing up! Oh, food fantasies...
4. When you've finished forming all your pretzels and placed them on a baking sheet, mix together the egg with 1 tablespoon of water. Also have kosher salt handy next to this egg wash. Brush one of your pretzels with the egg wash, and then immediately sprinkle kosher salt over the pretzel. It's important to sprinkle the salt on the individual right away (rather then egg wash all pretzels then sprinkle the salt) because the egg wash also acts like a glue to the salt, which is way more delicious for my fellow sodium-lovers.
5. Place in preheated oven for 10 minutes and they're ready! They will be slightly more brown on the bottom than the top which is a fact that makes me yearn for one of those pretzels makers where they cook standing up! Oh, food fantasies...
Yesterday, a guy comes on the bus and sits directly across from me and repeatedly tells me I'm fat. To compound this, Wii Fit told me I put on three pounds in 113 days (last time I played Wii Fit; I'm ashamed). Admittedly, the guy on the bus was certifiably crazy and I had just eaten before I stepped on O Wii Fit Board, but yesterday was a neon flashing sign saying, "Food can be delicious even when it doesn't come out of a drive-thru window!"
A couple weekends ago, Farmboy had a sale on lobster so my mom decided to treat us to a nice surf n' turf meal. I invited Matt to the dinner and he accepted even though it would be his first lobster experience; a lobster virgin, if you will. This impressed me because trying new food can be intimidating to some, especially when you run the risk of accidentally hitting your girlfriend's parents with a lobster claw.
Fortunately, no one was hit with a lobster claw this time but watching Matt take on the lobster made me more alert to how truly odd lobster-eating is. The different techniques and tools needed to enjoy a full lobster is baffling! My family doesn't eat lobster very often so we only have very modest supplies when it comes to eating lobster. Besides our very own hands, we had a pair of lobster crackers that we used to help break the hard outer shell. At one point, I was desperate to use a pair of kitchen scissors to help me and, since my mom would not allow "scissors" and "lobster" in the same sentence, I resorted to drop-kicking my lobster into submission. When I wasn't using my pro-wrestling skills, I did try to master the art of the lobster crackers. In theory, it's easy to use this tool. You place the lobster claw in the middle then squeeze to break it. Open to find lobstery goodness. In practice, the lobster crackers are a joke. If you do manage to make a crack, it is usually only a tease and never big enough or in the right place to ever give you a clean, easy break. Another scenario if you make a crack is that what seems like a gallon of water comes gushing out of it. At this one particular dinner, the juices created a perfect arc from the claw to Matt's side of the table. The rest of the time instead of the lobster cracking its slippery surface escapes the crackers and ends up in rather inopportune places. Everytime we have lobster, my parents mention a date they went on to a lobster place where one of my dad's lobster claws ended up on the table of diners next to them. What a romantic evening!
I find it funny that in a society I consider to be relatively proper in terms of eating habits, we have adopted quite an uncharacteristic affinity for lobster. It is (usually) completely unacceptable to use your hands instead of designated utensils, make any sort of noise with your body (i.e. slurping, burping), and even put your elbows on the table (though my parents never enforced this rule because, like me, they don't find elbows all that offensive). How does lobster fit into this etiquette schema?! Okay, don't lick your fingers, don't use your hands to pick up your food... except if it's a red, boiled shellfish then you can practically gnaw the shell off and suck the meat out. Even more, people go out to eat lobster... in public. I'm comfortable eating lobster in front of my parents but they also changed my diapers when I wasn't on solid food (think about it). I would not go to a restaurant that actual people frequent and order a lobster. To me, this sounds like an SNL skit about people making an ass of themselves.
While we were eating, I began to wonder if anyone can eat lobster gracefully. Then it dawned on me the main point in lobster etiquette is to throw all etiquette out the window. I could tell that my lobster (get it? Friends?) was having a hard time with how uncouth and unattractive dismembering a shellfish for meat is. I also knew that, like my first few experiences with lobster, it's disheartening. I find lobster is a food that grows on you everytime you eat it. My first few times eating lobster I felt like it was way too much work for such little reward. I mean, the whole balancing act of getting the meat is more cardio than I generally get in a weeks time all for a handful or so of meat. I have grown more fond of lobster, though I should end this post by saying that I enjoy crab so much more. And so ends the tale of my boyfriend losing his lobster virginity to me.
Fortunately, no one was hit with a lobster claw this time but watching Matt take on the lobster made me more alert to how truly odd lobster-eating is. The different techniques and tools needed to enjoy a full lobster is baffling! My family doesn't eat lobster very often so we only have very modest supplies when it comes to eating lobster. Besides our very own hands, we had a pair of lobster crackers that we used to help break the hard outer shell. At one point, I was desperate to use a pair of kitchen scissors to help me and, since my mom would not allow "scissors" and "lobster" in the same sentence, I resorted to drop-kicking my lobster into submission. When I wasn't using my pro-wrestling skills, I did try to master the art of the lobster crackers. In theory, it's easy to use this tool. You place the lobster claw in the middle then squeeze to break it. Open to find lobstery goodness. In practice, the lobster crackers are a joke. If you do manage to make a crack, it is usually only a tease and never big enough or in the right place to ever give you a clean, easy break. Another scenario if you make a crack is that what seems like a gallon of water comes gushing out of it. At this one particular dinner, the juices created a perfect arc from the claw to Matt's side of the table. The rest of the time instead of the lobster cracking its slippery surface escapes the crackers and ends up in rather inopportune places. Everytime we have lobster, my parents mention a date they went on to a lobster place where one of my dad's lobster claws ended up on the table of diners next to them. What a romantic evening!
I find it funny that in a society I consider to be relatively proper in terms of eating habits, we have adopted quite an uncharacteristic affinity for lobster. It is (usually) completely unacceptable to use your hands instead of designated utensils, make any sort of noise with your body (i.e. slurping, burping), and even put your elbows on the table (though my parents never enforced this rule because, like me, they don't find elbows all that offensive). How does lobster fit into this etiquette schema?! Okay, don't lick your fingers, don't use your hands to pick up your food... except if it's a red, boiled shellfish then you can practically gnaw the shell off and suck the meat out. Even more, people go out to eat lobster... in public. I'm comfortable eating lobster in front of my parents but they also changed my diapers when I wasn't on solid food (think about it). I would not go to a restaurant that actual people frequent and order a lobster. To me, this sounds like an SNL skit about people making an ass of themselves.
While we were eating, I began to wonder if anyone can eat lobster gracefully. Then it dawned on me the main point in lobster etiquette is to throw all etiquette out the window. I could tell that my lobster (get it? Friends?) was having a hard time with how uncouth and unattractive dismembering a shellfish for meat is. I also knew that, like my first few experiences with lobster, it's disheartening. I find lobster is a food that grows on you everytime you eat it. My first few times eating lobster I felt like it was way too much work for such little reward. I mean, the whole balancing act of getting the meat is more cardio than I generally get in a weeks time all for a handful or so of meat. I have grown more fond of lobster, though I should end this post by saying that I enjoy crab so much more. And so ends the tale of my boyfriend losing his lobster virginity to me.
Proof that cows love denim.
So jealous of Elisa's camera. Here she's rubbing it in my face. Bitch.
Paris Hilton is on The View right now and her skin is blending in with the show's bright orange background. The moral of this story, and I've said this before, is that tanning is not the answer. I should do a PSA on this.
Earlier this month, I wrote about my ongoing room makeover. Unfortunately, from the time when we scoured my room of all its junk (which was back in March, I think) to now not much progress has been done. In that time period, Matt and I both took a necessary break from room cleaning, had exams, and then I had my wisdom teeth removed. Not to mention, I'm a master procrastinator when it comes to cleaning; it's in my genes.
Last weekend, however, I forced myself (more like, Matt forced me to force myself) to clear my room, with Matt's help, of its junk to prepare for painting and ultimately, furniture rearranging. Most of the things we moved I actually am keeping but it was completely necessary to clear my room to fake a clean slate. Once the room is painted and reorganized, I'll figure out where to put all the junk which will undoubtedly convince me to tear what little hair I do have out of their roots. On a lighter note, I haven't seen so much of my carpet since I moved into my room. Still, when I walk into my room, I halt as to not stub my toe or knock over a mountainous pile of books. I'm trying to convince myself to take advantage of the space and exercise, but I'd rather use that time to eat, evidently.
Since the last post on my room, I have a much clearer picture of how I would like my room to look. The walls will be painted a light aquamarine color and the furniture will be completely rearranged. Since the colors of my furniture are all neutral, I'm going to make the room pop with accents, like pillows, pictures, etc. (Elisa has been so excited at the prospect of my redecorating she has already spoiled me with pillow cases, picture holders, etc.!) I don't want to follow a strict color scheme and I'm hoping my room will have an ecclectic vibe - like me! I'm hoping when it's complete my room will be more of a safe haven for me to relax, exercise (ha), blog, and study instead of a place that actually induces stress. My goal is to have my room complete by the end of summer so I'll keep updating on the progress if I can find time away from banging my head against the brick wall that is the Room Makeover.
Last weekend, however, I forced myself (more like, Matt forced me to force myself) to clear my room, with Matt's help, of its junk to prepare for painting and ultimately, furniture rearranging. Most of the things we moved I actually am keeping but it was completely necessary to clear my room to fake a clean slate. Once the room is painted and reorganized, I'll figure out where to put all the junk which will undoubtedly convince me to tear what little hair I do have out of their roots. On a lighter note, I haven't seen so much of my carpet since I moved into my room. Still, when I walk into my room, I halt as to not stub my toe or knock over a mountainous pile of books. I'm trying to convince myself to take advantage of the space and exercise, but I'd rather use that time to eat, evidently.
Since the last post on my room, I have a much clearer picture of how I would like my room to look. The walls will be painted a light aquamarine color and the furniture will be completely rearranged. Since the colors of my furniture are all neutral, I'm going to make the room pop with accents, like pillows, pictures, etc. (Elisa has been so excited at the prospect of my redecorating she has already spoiled me with pillow cases, picture holders, etc.!) I don't want to follow a strict color scheme and I'm hoping my room will have an ecclectic vibe - like me! I'm hoping when it's complete my room will be more of a safe haven for me to relax, exercise (ha), blog, and study instead of a place that actually induces stress. My goal is to have my room complete by the end of summer so I'll keep updating on the progress if I can find time away from banging my head against the brick wall that is the Room Makeover.
The cow version of Molly and Quincy.
"No more pictures, please!"
Mysteriously, the volume icon on my taskbar is nowhere to be found. Vista decides to redecorate for me arbitrarily. Thanks for that.
Easy there.
This little calf was so bold. Just look at his face. He was mooing at us the entire time, and loved eating denim.
I had today off from work so instead of bustling around this morning, I got to take it easy and watch my favorite morning talk shows (see: Ellen and The View, though the latter is getting pretty boring). I started to get thirsty so I headed upstairs to get a drink when I see Quincy standing there which isn't too abnormal. I walk around the corner into the dark living room and see Molly's face. I say hi to her and she immediately starts whining, which is not typical of her. At a closer look, I see that Molly is stuck between the couch and the wall/window. I then did what any loving dog owner would do in this situation: I grabbed the camera and took a picture.
I'm not a terrible dog owner; I knew she wasn't hurt, just a little alarmed. She currently had her two front paws up on the back of the couch, attempting to hop over it and onto the floor. This was never going to happen, nor am I capable of lifting her up over the couch. I pulled the couch out from the wall/window so she could hop onto the floor and walk out. She had no idea what I was trying to get her to do and my pulling the couch out only made her much more panicked. I tried lifting her paws off the back of the couch so she'd be forced to put them down on the ground, but she was gripping onto the couch with her nails. Knowing everything I was doing was just making her more scared, I squeezed myself onto the floor where I was hoping she would jump down to. After she saw me on the floor, she understood how she could get out and did so.
As soon as she was out, Quincy, who is very maternal with Molly, started barking and yelping in anger and relief. Molly grabbed one of her dozens of toys and started victory lapping around the house with happiness. At one point, she ran towards me and, all 55 pounds of her, bounced onto my lap and gave me an appreciative kiss. I was thankful at that moment that due to dogs' poor short term memory, my baby wouldn't remember me taking a picture instead of rescuing her.
I'm not a terrible dog owner; I knew she wasn't hurt, just a little alarmed. She currently had her two front paws up on the back of the couch, attempting to hop over it and onto the floor. This was never going to happen, nor am I capable of lifting her up over the couch. I pulled the couch out from the wall/window so she could hop onto the floor and walk out. She had no idea what I was trying to get her to do and my pulling the couch out only made her much more panicked. I tried lifting her paws off the back of the couch so she'd be forced to put them down on the ground, but she was gripping onto the couch with her nails. Knowing everything I was doing was just making her more scared, I squeezed myself onto the floor where I was hoping she would jump down to. After she saw me on the floor, she understood how she could get out and did so.
As soon as she was out, Quincy, who is very maternal with Molly, started barking and yelping in anger and relief. Molly grabbed one of her dozens of toys and started victory lapping around the house with happiness. At one point, she ran towards me and, all 55 pounds of her, bounced onto my lap and gave me an appreciative kiss. I was thankful at that moment that due to dogs' poor short term memory, my baby wouldn't remember me taking a picture instead of rescuing her.
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