Hopefully, this will become a regular feature on my blog.
YOU WILL NEED:
A crock pot
3-4 potatoes
small package of stew beef
1 small onion
3 carrots
1.5-2 bottles of Sweet Honey Catalina salad dressing
Chop and mix. Cover and cook for 8 hours on low. Enjoy.
P.S. I cannot even begin to tell you how glad I am that Amazon does NOT offer used salad dressing.
I’ve finally put my finger on something that’s been bothering me for a while. This blog has languished while I lacked in time and inspiration, but I’m back in full force now and I have plenty to rant about.
The internet is a haven for pretty much any opinion under the sun, and often, these opinions clash. Argument after argument has made many of us defensive, and I’m just as guilty as anyone else. But, I implore you, gentle readers – if you find yourself about to use the phrase “I don’t understand,” please stop and think about what you really mean.
In my travels on the blogosphere, the only thing that makes me more sick than the word “blogosphere” is seeing things like this:
“I have no interest in seeing the Saw series, and I just don’t understand why they keep making them.”
“I was forced to watch Hellboy last night, and I just don’t understand why they are making a second one!”
“Why does Quentin Tarantino keep ripping off ‘70s movies? Why can’t he do something original? I don’t understand!”
BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY PERSON WITH AN OPINION, OKAY?
I get it, I do. People are pretty much being hyperbolic; they do see the obvious answer, which is, “it makes money.” They’re questioning something a little deeper than that – the integrity of those who produce these things, and the integrity of those who like them.
In some cases, their righteous indignation is warranted. Some things are objectively sleazy and terrible, such as the latter-day “____ Movie” franchise, and Tila Tequila. But when you are making judgements about a well-loved series like Saw without having seen more than a few frames of the movies, at what point do you have to stop and realize what you’re doing?
Yes, things exist that you do not enjoy. Some people like them. If you truly cannot comprehend this, please seek mental help, and more importantly, stop blabbering about what you don’t like. Unless you have something intelligent to say, don’t say anything at all.*
* Yeah, right. This is the internet.
The Plan: Quickly rinse and throw some dishes in the sink to soak in lovely, piping hot water and apple-scented Dawn. Wipe down counter. Sweep floor in preparation for mopping.
The Execution: Quickly rinse dishes, discovering that, for some reason, the garbage smells like rancid tuna and tin. WE JUST ATE THE TUNA A FEW HOURS AGO. WTF. Grumble to self about this issue while attempting to wrestle pile of dishes into the sink. Task 
finally completed, proceed to clear floor of objects that impede sweeping. Pick up partially empty six-pack of Labatt Blue, used for a delicious sausage and potato recipe and whenever I feel like cooking something in beer. Balance precariously on crossbeam of table, for some reason.
BEER SMASH
Luckily, just one bottle broke. Casualties included about half a roll of paper towels, the cardboard carrier for the beer, the box for a case of root beer that was nearby, and my sanity. You see, this was not the first mishap of the day.
Earlier, just before my fiancé left for work, he was engaged in a particularly spirited tug o’ war with our dog. They were using her favorite toy, a Woot Monkey. It was all fun and games until one of those “slingshot-like rubber arms” snapped back and hit Coco in the eye.
Initially frightened, she quickly made a full emotional recovery as only animals can. Her humans were a little more frightened; I tested the affected eye with a flashlight to find the pupil properly responsive, though she wouldn’t keep it open all the way. As the evening progressed, Mike called regularly to check on Coco’s status. I Googled, and we debated the need for a trip to the emergency vet (and the possibility of affording it).
Meanwhile, Coco snoozed peacefully, completely unaware that she was the center of so much anxiety. After about an hour, I woke her up to check on her eye.
She looked up, blinked, and both eyes came blissfully open as if nothing had happened. I examined further; all swelling was gone, and aside from some goop in the corner and a slight bloodshot tint, the eyes were identical. A few hours later, the goop was expelled and the eye itself looked much clearer.
There was much rejoicing.
The quick recovery alleviated my fears as only a quick recovery can. I sought solace from pet owners on the internet, but that didn’t go too well. As it turns out, lots of people on the internet will make you feel like you are a Bad Person for not taking your pet to the emergency hospital for something that is, quite clearly, not an emergency. The conversations usually go like this:
“My dog got hit in the eye. She seems okay, but it’s a little swollen. Can this wait until Monday?”
“NO YOUR DOG CAN GO BLIND”
“I really can’t take her to the emergency vet tonight. I don’t have money or a car. I know eye injuries can be serious, but she seems to be recovering just fine.”
“DO YOU WANT YOUR DOG TO GO BLIND? WE CANNOT DIAGNOSE HER OVER THE INTERNET, WE ARE NOT VETS.”
“Look, trying to make me panic isn’t going to change the fact that I CANNOT TAKE HER TO THE VET RIGHT NOW. Can someone just tell me if this is likely to be a serious problem, given the detailed information I have provided?”
“RARRR BAD PET OWNER RARRRR”
Oh, there is a possibility that she could go blind from being hit in the eye with some fabric? That changes EVERYTHING, I’ll just walk the five miles to the emergency vet and pull the $94 exam fee out of my ass!
Sometimes I hate the internet.
Anyway, all is well now. Except the trash smells like rancid tuna, tin, AND cheap beer.
Well, it’s the fourth of July. Time for barbecuing, lemonade, fireworks, being forced to talk to your extended family members, et cetera…
I’m celebrating by working, as usual. When you freelance, there is never a day off – something always needs doing. The internet is worldwide, so business hours never end. On the plus side, you can drink whenever you want.
Speaking of controlled substances, I dyed my hair red and blue for the holiday. Well, in streaks. Mostly because I didn’t want to get hair dye all over my skin and I don’t care what anybody says, putting conditioner or vaseline on your skin does not prevent staining.
We are taking a picnic to a local park today. It has a double purpose, because someday soon, we might take pictures for our wedding invitations there. Hopefully. I have left the planning of this in the hands of my fiancé, who, being a man, does not understand that weddings need to be planned more than three days in advance.
One final note to those who might be taking road trips for the holiday: before you head out, see if your local toy or novelty store has one of these babies in stock. It is endlessly entertaining, and amazingly clairvoyant. Before long, you’ll be smashing it open to see where it keeps its brain.
Every time we go to the vet, we manage to spend upwards of $400 on medications, preventative pills and drops, vaccinations, something called a “biohazard disposal fee,” etc. etc… and that’s with a healthy dog. We’ll end up selling a kidney if she ever actually needs the vet.
I can’t complain too much about flea prevention, because fleas make my life hell. And heartworms? Well, that sounds awfully unpleasant. Anything for our little girl!
And, of course, allergy treatments. Benadryl twice daily isn’t so bad; we buy the store brand and Coco happily takes her pills wrapped in cheese with little fuss. But then there’s the prescription ear drops, and the cleaning, and the possibility of having to put her on an even more premium food. Is Innova at $50/bag in our future? Please God no. (And no thank you, Mr. Vet, I will not buy Hill’s prescription foods that they pay you to promote. Hill’s makes Science Diet, which, despite the name, is like feeding your dog McDonald’s every day. I can read an ingredients list as well as you can. Yes, I know that “most over the counter dog foods have the same ingredients.” Our food doesn’t. Shut up.)
When it comes to the medical profession, I’ve always had a healthy dose of suspicion. It’s a far cry from paranoia – it’s just that I don’t trust doctors to be supergeniuses, and so far it has served me pretty well. Like everyone else, vets are in business to earn money, and if Hill’s pays them to promote their products, well…
I can do the research and surround myself with dog people who aren’t in it for the money, but for the love of animals. I can find out what’s up. I can learn the common allergens and go out of my way to buy food that will keep Coco healthy. 
Like most doctors, vets don’t bother to promote a truly healthful diet because a) it’s expensive and b) ultimately, it might not have an appreciable effect on your overall well-being. Most humans eat like crap, and most dogs eat like crap, but thanks to modern medicine we’re all living WAY past our natural life expectancy. I can’t really criticize vets for not insisting on premium foods; just please, trust me when I say I’m feeding my dog well. Because I am.
Ultimately, the most entertaining part of our visit was the Sarah Silverman soundalike who kept whining to the receptionist about how she lived OH SO FAR AWAY and COULDN’T GET OUT OF WORK EARLY and DID SHE REALLY HAVE TO COME BACK IN SEVEN DAYS. Hey, perky? Are there seriously no veterinary practices closer than an hour and forty minutes away? Because, if there are, then you really don’t have any right to complain.
And a special brand of hostility goes out to the person who called the vet while we were in the waiting room, asking if s/he could have his/her puppy’s ears docked. Not cool, buddy. Not cool.
Yes, I am excited for The Dark Knight. I don't care if that makes me EXACTLY THE SAME as five billion other people on the internet. I am a fangirl.
Batman Begins was far from my Movie of the Year; I thought it took itself far too seriously, considering that it was about a man who dresses up in a giant rubber fetish suit. While it was a welcome r
elief from the utter goofiness of the Tim Burton / Joel Schumacher reign, it swung too far in the other direction. Plus, Ra's al Ghul? Talk about your obscure villains. He's right up there with the Toymaker (Real name: Cosmo Krank. Seriously.)
Now, we're down to the villain to end all Batman villains, even considering that there are approximately 85 of them. The Joker is everybody's favorite. There is always something sinister about his jovial demeanor, even in the silliest of plots. And Heath Ledger, according to all reports, is takin' it to the max.
Alan Moore's Joker origin story, The Killing Joke, is one of my all-time favorite comic book stories. The man can weave a tale. And though we've been told that no Joker origins will be shown in The Dark Knight, it makes the character that much richer for me. To know that he was once a struggling comedian who fell in with the wrong crowd - what a story.
But The Dark Knight is a few weeks away. I'm considering seeing Hellboy II inbetween then and now, because I liked the first one and this one is supposed to be even better.
Today, Netflix served up Futurama: The Beast With a Billion Backs. I was never a rabid fan of the show - I didn't even watch it when it was on, but when I finally caught it on DVD, I enjoyed the series. I never found it as consistently funny as, say, early Family Guy - but then I was never a Simpsons fan either. Oddly enough, the few dramatic/tearjerking episodes were actually some of the strongest. (God damn you, The Sting. God damn you.)
Bender's Big Score, the previous direct-to-DVD feature, certainly could have been worse. It was stronger than Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story, but nowhere near The Simpsons Movie. If you looked at it as being a long episode of the show, it was perfectly serviceable.
Personally, I felt The Beast... improved upon the previous installment. It seemed more cohesive and was certainly more compelling, story-wise, with roughly the same number of laughs. With the titular creature, Yivo, as a metaphor for Christianity, there were certainly a few "hmm" moments (as well as some witty jabs disguised as humor - of course).
I won't go into a detailed summary, because this post is long enough already. I do recommend The Beast... to Futurama fans, who hopefully will not be disappointed and upset at me for personally steering them wrong. I'M SORRY! WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?
Do you know what our problem is, as a society, these days? Too many choices. Choices are what you get after you banish tradition and ceremony, and decide to forge your own path. Freedom is great, but it’s also kind of a burden.
Never has this been more true than in the planning of my wedding. After reading The Offbeat Bride: Taffeta-Free Alternatives for Independent Brides by Ariel Stallings, I decided once and for all that I didn’t want a poofy, flower-laden, whitewashed, fairy tale wedding. I just wanted to get married, and to have a party to celebrate it. Never a part of the marriage-obsessed female culture, I just wanted to have fun.
But my transformation into an offbeat bride didn’t happen overnight. There was a time when I wouldn’t hear of canned soda or pizza at my wedding, but I’ve found that it’s better to just relax and not worry about people’s perceptions. I’ve gradually come to accept that a wedding doesn’t need to have flowers, an open bar, or a DJ who insists on playing at least one of the songs on your “PLEASE DO NOT PLAY THIS IT MAKES MY EARS BLEED” list.
The weddings featured on Ariel’s blog have been an ongoing source of inspiration. This recent affair is one of my favorites, even if a polka-dot dress isn’t really in the works for me. I like to pick and choose my favorite elements and mentally collage them into My Perfect Day.
But once you open the floodgates of Offbeat Brideism, there really is no going back. Everything must be questioned. Do you want to walk down the aisle, or enter by trapeze? Do you want to throw your bouquet, or hand it off to your lesbian relatives as a sociopolitical statement about marriage equality? Do you want to have a cake cutting, or a donut fight?
I truly believe that traditional brides have an easier time of it, just floating along on prefabricated clouds of Weddingness. They question nothing, and therefore have a script already written for them.
Speaking of scripts, I really should get back to writing my ceremony. But before I do, I’d like to share a few of my hard limits when it comes to my wedding. As flexible as I’ve been, these are things I simply will not entertain.
1. American cheese.
2. Our dog as ringbearer.
3. Stiletto heels.
4. Anyone asking me “so, why aren’t your parents here?”
5. Favors in tiny plastic swans.
6. Uncomfortable shoes.
7. Wire hangers. (j/k, j/k.)
Because you have to draw the line somewhere.
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