It is a baby Fennec fox, which is a small fox that lives in the Sahara Desert, AND it is considered the only species of fox that can be kept as a pet. Which translates into - I totally want one! And Wikipedia says there is an established community of owners and breeders in the US. Hey, my birthday is coming up...
be sure to bring along your iPod, so that every time Pierce Brosnan opens his mouth to sing, you can protect yourself.
Seriously, love Pierce, love my Remington Steele, but man should not be allowed to sing. Ever.
As Sean has been saying since he saw the movie "that's the best they could make him sound. After all the time and technology they had in the studio, that's the best they could do." And yet I went to the movie anyway, thinking "it can't be that bad!"
It is obvious from the Beijing Opening Games that the gauntlet has been thrown down and you are screwed, unless you do a "sun never sets on the British Empire" theme and steal other country's heritages. Thus, I have some suggestions for your opening games.
1. Dancing Stonehenge. Ala Dr. Who and the Stones of Blood, I'm thinking some human sized sponge-like creatures who throb with an inner red pulse and, well, dance.
2. Copious beer drinking and pub songs. Lucky you have some Irish and Scottish claim, for they have some great drinking songs! One whole program can be inspired from Robert Burns' John Barleycorn poem. Dancing sheaves of wheat? Go for it! I've done an interpretive dance for far less.
3. Go Green. It's all the rage, and it means you can scale things down, way down, and then say "it's for the environment!" Who can possibly criticize that?
Good luck, London! I'll keep you updated if any other brilliant ideas hit me! A "thank you" is all I ask. And a nominal fee. In Olympic terms.
Love, Emily
P.S. - To Russia, Next year, don't steal Hungary's dresses to make shirts out of and perform The Music Man in. Not really Opening Ceremony appropriate.
Visible Panty Lines have been quite the fashion faux paus since the popularity of tight pants. But ladies, I can do you one better. Today I saw a Villiage Person's Package. All too uncomfortably close and in living color. We went to see Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat at the Sondheim Center in Fairfield, with the original Cowboy Villiage Person Randy Jones as the Pharoah. For those of you unfamiliar with the show, the Pharoah is portrayed as Elvis. So Randy was done up in the quintessential white jumpsuit. In boxer briefs underneath. And no support whatsoever. As one of my theatre going companions put it - "you could clearly see he is uncircumsized." I don't know from that, but it was incredibly distracting. And disturbing. Added to that the she-man intern who was "Cher" for the "Go-go-go Joseph" number, and I'm having nightmares for the next week.
My doctor has today confirmed that I am, indeed, allergic to the state of Iowa.
The song on Bones tonight, where the car is blowing up, I will always associate with Trainspotting. I love that movie. "It's such a perfect day..."
I was going to review Bohemian Highway Cabernet Sauvignon, but that was two bottles ago, and all I can say is that it's light and slightly fruity, but not too fruity. What kind of fruit, I cannot say. But it was good!
Now we're on Tapena Tempranillo (it's Spanish.) It's spicy, but not too bold. And also slightly sweet, but not too sweet. I get black cherries. And it goes down very smoothly. Yes, I might be a wee bit tipsy right now, but I highly recommend it. Thanks, Schnucks Wine Guy!
Gerard Butler is seriously attractive.
Seriously, look at that. He may pick shitty movies, but he is actually very talented. And very, very attractive. (But his talent does make him more attractive. Except for that one really, really shitty movie he was in. Yes, Shattered, I'm talking to you.)
Whole Foods should charge a tax on anyone who drives an SUV to the store. Doesn't that just seem wrong? Although it does make me totally feel hippier than thou in my tiny high mileage Fit.
Whole Foods carries St. Andre Triple Cream Brie cheaper than your regular grocery store. Worth the trip, seriously. Also, you can get Wensleydale with cranberries. I love cheese.
This flood in Iowa is seriously cramping my Netflix style. Mama needs her DVDs.
Omg, seriously, I believe that red grapefruit juice lowers your cholesterol. I'm too lazy to link to the real studies right now, but Google it, you will see. My cholesterol dropped 31 points and all I changed was I started eating oatmeal in the mornings and drinking grapefruit juice. And it didn't even raise my blood sugar. 100% grapefruit juice, by the way, no sugar added. And it was raisin, walnut and date oatmeal. Made with 1% milk. It's actually yummy.
Hey, Dave? Thanks for being a close friend even though I'm a really shitty friend sometimes. You are totally Shupershtore.
Stan Winston, creator of the creatures from Alien, Predator, Terminator, Jurassic Park and Congo passed away yesterday. I admired the man greatly, and not just because he had a hand in The Star Wars Holiday Special, but also because he went to UVA. The first Virginia Film Festival that I took part in had Stan Winston as a guest, and I will never forget sitting up in the booth and watching him introduce a movie. He talked about how he used the scare the crap out of his kids when they were little, because he would test his creations on them.
Interesting Wikipedia fact - Stan Winston was the second special effects artist to receive a star on the Hollywood walk of fame. (Dennis Muren was the first. Shout out for the original Battlestar Galactica and Willow!)
And...What the heck?! Are you freaking kidding me?! Stan Winston sculpting the head of Davros of the Daleks from Doctor Who?! My first and all time favorite science fiction television show?! Are there even enough question marks and exclamation points in the world to express the awesomeness of this?!
So Stan, I raise my glass to you. Thanks for all the nightmares!
I love my Netflix. And usually, when I add one thing to my Netflix, I will spend the next many minutes following it from suggestion to suggestion and adding several other things to my Netflix. Sometimes, it suggests things that I've already seen and I go ahead and rate them accordingly. Sometimes, I log onto the Netflix just to rate things! I love the entire process. But it threw me for a loop tonight. Because I loved Amadeus, Fargo and Moonstruck, it thinks I will love To Kill a Mockingbird.
Um, how does that logic go?
Yes, I do love to Kill a Mockingbird. My all time favorite book and one of my favorite movies, yes. Stuck on a desert island? Give me Mockingbird! In fact, that book inspired by adolescent short stories, my desire to write, and my fascination with Southern Gothic anything. But to follow Fargo and Moonstruck there? I'm a bit confused. Moonstruck is a romantic comedy. Yeah, it has dark moments, why do you think I love it? But Mockingbird - there ain't no romantic comedy there. Amusing moments, yes, but Atticus and Miss Maudie don't bump into each other fighting over a taxi cab and follow it up with dinner, do they? And Fargo? Fargo is, well...it isn't related to Mockingbird in any sense. Boo Radley never chopped anyone up in the wood chipper, now, did he?
Here's the thing, though - their logic doesn't make any sense whatsoever, but they are right. I DO love me some To Kill a Mockingbird.
Oh, you!! (insert wagging my finger at Netflix in a bemused manner.)
Technically, Dave made my day yesterday. Yesterday was a long, not so great day. And while I am not prone to watching you tube videos, even when sent to me by reliable sources, when Dave says "hammock up!" and sends you this, you go.
The first time I was introduced to the Bananaphone song, it was sung by little cartoon critters. Little skunks or gophers or something. Marmots, mayhaps. Anyhoo, Dave knows how much I love the bananas. They are natural antidepressants, they help relieve muscle soreness if you eat them before or after working out, they help prevent charlie horses, and they help lower your blood pressure. Plus they are yellow. And, let's face it, phallic. Anyhow, love bananas, love the song. And apparently avid you tubers have placed many a video to this song. There are at least two Harry Potter versions, one of which is awesome just because they have Dumbledore going "boop boop be doop."
But thank you, Dave. Not least of all because I am in the Middle-of-nowhere, Iowa and have no air conditioning at the moment. I needed that.
Beth is clearly the Google queen of Blogger, but I've gotten my fair share of hits from the Google. (By the way, spell check on Blogger takes capitalized Google but not lower case Google. Clever spell check...) Most of my hits are from the Rojo Mojo wine review or my multiple GordonRamsey posts, and I've gotten a few random Monk hits, but that's pretty much it. Surprisingly enough, no chicken pot pie Googles, go figure. And I clearly don't post enough on cheese! But I digress. Thanks to Beth and the good folks at Stat Counter, I got my best Google hit ever today. "Marmots human killers." Now, as I said, marmots may have carried the Black Plague, but, awww, they're so chubby and cute! Anyway, my "marmots human killer" Googler, I hope you found what you were looking for. And feel free to use me as a citation on your term paper.
Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you...
I love that song. Time After Time. The summer before I was a freshman in high school, my family moved to a new city in a new state. And Strictly Ballroom came out in theatres, and my mother was kind enough to take me. From that first scene, with the ballroom dancing and the interviews, I thought, "I love this movie. And my mother is not enjoying this." My mother did end up enjoying the movie (just not the beginning,) and I of course ended up loving it. To the point that it is One of my Favorite Movies of All Time. And, of course, I love the scene where Time After Time plays, and Scott takes off Fran's glasses and Scott's dad dances. (the "all girls are more attractive after you take their glasses off" post is for another time.)
One of the first CDs I was given was the Strictly Ballroom CD, courtesy of my sister. Freshman year of college, my friend Pete would sing Time After Time to me. I loved Pete, as a dear, dear friend. And that song, however it was meant at the time, took on a new meaning for me, as he went off for his Mission the following year.
And then, then there was Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion. And, in the dream ballet of every plain girl or gay boy in high school, there was the awesome dance sequence at the reunion to Time After Time. That movie means a lot to me. Mainly because some of my friends love it as much as I do, but also because, hello, I was Romy. Or Michelle.
Anyway, I love that song. That song means a lot to me. A lot of memories, a lot of happiness, of feelings of happiness. But also, that song is what my best friends mean to me. "If you're lost, you can look, and you will find me; time after time." It goes both ways. To my friends who are patient enough to last through the dry spells with me, I am always yours. "If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting; time after time." I've had friends catch me in my free fall too many times to not feel that lyric deep within. And I want to be the one who catches them.
And "the drum beats out of time" belongs with one of my posts about lyrics about rhyming and how deeply they resonate with me. But that's a post for another time...
But it's a rare while when an entire song hits me where I say "Yes. I identify with this." Time After Time, stereotypical and retro as it may be, is one.
two roads diverged in the iowa night, and i i took the one that lay straight ahead. and had to sit at the railroad tracks for five minutes to let the train pass by.
You think that there's no way you can love Chef Tom Collichio more. You think there's no way Chef Tom can be hotter.
But then the geniuses at Top Chef throw children into the mix. And if you realize that a regular man becomes 10 times more attractive when he is being adorable with a child, then you must realize that now Daddy Tom almost makes my heart explode with his awesomeness.
I mean, he asked a little girl if she made the onions sweat by putting them on a treadmill! Adorable chef humor!
Oh, Daddy Tom. You make my onions sweat just by looking at them.
1. I am so naming my first baby after Gordon Ramsay. If it's a girl, we'll call her Gordie.
2. I wonder how much money I could get if I auctioned my name on eBay.
3. I am currently working in the Middle-of-nowhere, Iowa. Near where the baseball field from Field of Dreams is. Which raises the question - what's more scary - the children or Ray Liotta in the corn?
4. Pshaw.
5. I lied on Beth's blog. My panties are only 94% cotton. 6% spandex. And damn comfortable, thankyouverymuch.
6. Hold on, gotta pee.
7. Holy cow, reduced fat Cheez-Its are good when drunk.
8. American Kitchen Nightmares is lamer than Real Kitchen Nightmares. Gordon, why you no yell so much? Viewer discretion so not needed!
9. It's okay, I will still name my first child after him.
10. Super Target is my new favorite store.
11. And apparently Barefoot Cabernet Sauvignon is awesome wine.
12. Willy nilly!
13. Yes, it's still funny.
14. Oh my gosh, Beth/Wahooty is one of my favorite people in the WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD. That include Gordon Ramsay. (I had to say "one of" because of my boyfriend.) She completes me.
15. I am totally the inspiration.
16. "I was thinking about Cheyenne's legs and then a fork fell on the floor." - Sara Bickwheat
Wahooty and I decided tonight that I'm a marmot. A rodent, a "ground squirrel," but with a cuter name. See how adorable: It all started because of my sleep cycle. As it gets later at night, I get more awake, so Wahooty suggested I might be a rodent of some type. I started to protest, but then agreed because I do like to nest. Plus I like cheese. And they hibernate, which I totally would, if I didn't have to have a job and earn money and watch TV. Marmots eat mostly greens, and I like greens. We couldn't think of many super-hero powers I would have as a marmot, except that my voice can get pretty shrill when I'm excited, so possibly I could temporarily deafen (or at least startle) my enemies. And Wahooty said that I could wiggle my nose cutely and charm men. We're ground dwelling creatures, though, so we don't fly. I'd make a good super-hero on The Tick, with my limited abilities. Emmarmot, Wahooty named me.
Wikipedia says that some historians believe that marmots, rather than rats, were the primary carriers of the Bubonic plague, which makes marmots second to mosquitoes as human killers. Always the bridesmaid...
They are of the tribe "Marmotini," which I think would be gin mixed with some elderflower syrup and shaken with ice.
And if this isn't me after eating dinner and settling down to watch some Gordon Ramsay, I don't know what is.
I caught my inside-my-head voice speaking like Gordon Ramsay today while I was looking for an envelope. I've been watching a lot of the BBC's Kitchen Nightmares since I discovered the joys of the Gordon Ramsay a couple of months ago, so it's understandable that my inundated brain is getting a bit...enamoured. But how could I not love Gordon Ramsay? Let us count the ways...
1. Gordon Ramsay takes his shirt off in every episode of Kitchen Nightmares that I've ever seen. Sure, he has to change into his chef's jacket (with apparently no undershirt,) but he makes sure the camera gets a nice shot of his bare chest while doing so. The funny thing is, though, that on one episode, he changed into his chef's jacket twice, but the second time, we got no chest shot. It's like during the Dick Van Dyke show and Mary Tyler Moore was only allowed to wear her tight pants once every episode so as not to offend the censors.
2. Gordon Ramsay encourages young chefs. The Boyfriend and I always joke about his boy crush for each episode, because he does tend to take a young man (or "big boy") under his wing, so to speak. And there is often hair ruffling and and horseplay and a little winkwinknudgenudge going on. But, although Gordon doesn't hold back when listing their faults, he also gives them chances to show their stuff and plenty of encouragement when he thinks they have promise. And he hardly ever poaches them from the restaurant. Hey, he apologized for that!
3. Gordon Ramsay is not afraid to carry a fat french woman into the ocean whilst he is fully clothed.
4. Gordon Ramsay knows that there is no #4. 5. Gordon Ramsay looks adorable with baby sheep. And then he makes them delicious.
6. Gordon Ramsay doesn't bullshit. You know he revels in a good fight (and I'm not ashamed to admit that it gets me kind of hot when he gets into a shouting match,) and he doesn't pull any punches, but he makes good points, and he takes pleasure in things going well. I always root for the restaurant to turn things around, because it really makes me happy when Gordon goes back and enjoys his meal. He gets a big smile on his face and congratulates everyone. Hey, the fighting and insulting makes for great tv, but the pride makes for warm and fuzzy tv, and then we all win.
7. Gordon Ramsay promotes local products. Local produce, local seafood, local meats. It's not just a good marketing plan and a cost saving deal for the restaurant, and it doesn't just help the local community, it helps the whole PLANET. That's right, Gordon Ramsay loves our planet. Gordon Ramsay and Phillipe Cousteau. Mmm...Phillipe Cousteau... 8. Gordon Ramsay makes me want to run a restaurant. And he makes me think I can do it. I can't, of course, let's not be ridiculous. But I look at some of those idiots and think, hell, I can do better than that. I can at least make creme brulee that doesn't look like baby vomit. That's all I'm sayin'. Yes, I love me some Gordon Ramsay I only regret that it took me so long to discover this love. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have three seasons of Hell's Kitchen to catch up on.
For as long as I can remember, Ozzie Smith has been one of my all-time biggest heroes. When I was a child, my favorite day of baseball season was Opening Day, when Ozzie would do his trademark backflip when he took the field. I'm still bitter about the day in middle school that my mother did not let me skip class to meet Ozzie at the sports store he was signing autographs at during school hours. And I still have the piece of paper I did finally get his autograph on at a game the next year. For most of my pre-adolescent and adolescent years, I had a poster of Ozzie hanging above my bed. I collected every card I could find of him, especially one special purchase of his Padres rookie card. And I still have them all. And of course I read his auto-biography! And this is one childhood hero that has not diminished in my mind. One of the coolest things about living in St. Louis now is that the theatre I've been working at is in the same complex as Ozzie's restaurant. And he's there sometimes. I've seen him a couple of times, and I totally got excited the day he said hi to me. Well, today I got to let him into the theatre to look around. And I felt like a giddy little girl again when he looked at me, smiled and said hi. And can I say that he is just the most adorable man ever?
So here's to childhood heroes that remain on their pedestals!
My first summer stage managing at summer stock, one of my shows was You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown. It was a fun show, great experience, taught me a lot, etc, etc. But when I moved away from home, what I remembered most was the silly song Happiness Is. It's the finale of the show, filled with what makes the Peanuts' gang happy. You know, eating an ice cream, catching a firefly, setting it freeeeeee. Anyway, when I moved away from home, and I got scared and depressed, I would write a "Happiness Is" entry in my journal. The only rule was that it had to be something that happened to me or I did in the past few days, because if you're grasping at happiness straws from a couple of weeks ago, then you need to do something to correct that ASAP. I've had a real rough couple of days, so, without further ado, my first Happiness Is blog:
Happiness is...
1. Gordon Ramsey. He has to take his shirt off on camera at least once every episode. Do you think it's written in his contract?
2. Drinking whiskey with a good friend. Even when someone else joins you and you don't get to whine about what you wanted to whine about. Especially when you end up not paying.
3. Like, seriously? I will keep this episode of Lost on my DVR for as long as I possibly can. Technically, it was 6 days ago that this Sayid-centric episode was delivered to me, but as I watched it again today, it totally gets counted as a Happiness Is for today.
I have been unemployed since December 30th. This is not easy for me, being unemployed. I won't lie to you - I'd love to be independently wealthy and not have to work for a living, but since I'm not, I'd rather be productive than not. My previous unemployment periods have been few and far between and brief, and right now it's even worse, since I'm in a relationship. How can I hold my own in this relationship when I can't pay for nights out, can't ask for nights out because of my guilt for being unable to pay, and can't even pay rent at the moment? Lucky I can cook, or I'd wonder what I'm even offering this relationship right now. My days recently have been filled with pajama wearing, tv watching, sorry feeling (for myself) patheticness. But I am sending my resume out! (The above actions are not listed amongst my "Skills," but I am awfully good at them. You need five hours of Murder, She Wrote and Good Eats watched straight through? I'm your girl!)
At any rate, that's not what this post is about. For those of you (Beth) that I have not been ashamed to talk to lately, you know where I've been. This post is about the light at the end of the tunnel. I commiserated tonight with my bowling partner and former assistant stage manager, who is in somewhat the same situation as I (though not as bad, because he has good non-theatre experience and opportunities) and he likened this time period to getting a shot at the Doctor's office. And what does the Dr. always say? "This will only hurt for a minute." In the vast span of my life (hopefully,) this period of unemployment despair will end up being but a pinprick. And as much as I should know that anyway, hearing someone else tell me that, with conviction, makes all the difference. I've never thought I would not get another job in my chosen field, but some times are harder than others, and I do tend to get bogged down, like Atreyu in The Never Ending Story. But I will become a productive member of society again (hopefully sooner, rather than later.) And I am determined to remember that now.
Now, if you'll excuse me, Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares is on. And I've only seen this episode once (this week.)
Funny how you can't really have a vinaigrette without some vinegar, eh? In my recipe recap, I left out that I also used some pomegranate red wine vinegar. Shall we try it again?
Pomegranate Vinaigrette
1/2 Cup Pomegranate juice reduced with 1 tablespoon sugar A couple tablespoons pomegranate red wine vinegar A couple tablespoons olive oil The juice of one lime
Shake well.
All measurements are approximate and adjustable to taste!
I was first introduced to the pomegranate in the Ray Stevens' song "Ahab the Arab" in which we find Fatima laying on a zebra skin and nibbling on raisins, grapes, apricots, a pomegranate, bowl of chitlins, two bananas, three candy bars and sipping on a coca cola. Shortly thereafter, my then best friend Suzanne introduced me to an actual pomegranate. I have very fond memories of sitting on the wood floor in her upstairs bedroom of her parent's lake cabin in Alabama, playing with our Polly Pockets and our Barbies and painstakingly pulling out each pomegranate pip, popping them in our mouths, sucking the juice out and then swallowing the seed whole. The pomegranate was this magical fruit, the likes of which I had never seen before, only made more mystical by the story of Persephone and how Hades kidnapped her and she ate four pomegranate pips while she was down there, and so she has to return for four months every year and Demeter makes it winter because she is so sad. My mother was good enough to purchase a pomegranate for me when I came home from that first weekend praising its glories, but it never became a staple of our household. And then we moved away from Atlanta and I was separated from my source, and thus began years of estrangement between the pomegranate and me.
This year the parents drove 14 hours to spend Christmas with the Boyfriend and me, and I took planning Christmas dinner very seriously. I wanted a couple of the holiday staples, but I also wanted to utilize winter produce, and my choices were brussels sprouts and pomegranates. Brussels sprouts I have cooked many a time in my adulthood, and I've even got my niece loving them, but picking up a pomegranate was like running into an old friend, and you have that conversation where you say fancy meeting them here, and how great the other person looks, and find out what each other has been up to and see if you still want to hang out together after all those years. Well pomegranate, you are definitely welcome to drop by my house anytime!
First up was Roast Duck with Pomegranate Glaze courtesy Whole Foods. I'm a big fan of duck, especially for the holidays. Normally I do a sherry glazed duck, but Mom can't do alcohol, so this was a perfect excuse for pomegranate use! It turned out pretty lip-smacking delicious, but I'd like to find a way to make the skin a little crispier and rend the fat more. And I had one 7 pound duckling as opposed to two little ducklings. Here is the Boyfriend doing his manly carving thing. I wish I had remembered to take a better picture of the duck, but after cooking for many an hour, and trying to get everything on the table at the right time, one tends to forget to photo-journal everything.
The other use of the pomegranate for Christmas was a really lovely romaine salad with a pomegranate vinaigrette. Take one head of romaine lettuce and chop it up with half a red onion throw in a tub of goat cheese. Mmm...goat cheese... And some pomegranate pips, of course. For the vinaigrette, reduce some pomegranate juice with some sugar, I think I used about half a cup and a tablespoon, respectively. Add some dollops of olive oil (I don't measure much, sorry) and the juice of half a lime, shake the dressing to blend, toss all together thoroughly and enjoy the best salad you will ever have! At the moment, I am enjoying my most recently discovered use of the pomegranate pip, thanks to Wahooty - a glass of bubbly with several pips dropped in. Wahooty calls it a little alcoholic lava lamp, but I think it's more like an ever changing rorschach test. Very artsy. And VERY tasty, not to mention full of healthy anti-oxidants! Cheers, Blogoworld! (And a special thanks to Dave for helping me through the gauntlet of posting photos.)
So we'll take one more look back in time, and I'll leave you with Ray Stevens non-PC pomegranate. Enjoy!
courtesy floridapfe's flicker site
What the heck?! Are you freaking kidding me?! Stan Winston sculpting the head of Davros of the Daleks from Doctor Who?! My first and all time favorite science fiction television show?! Are there even enough question marks and exclamation points in the world to express the awesomeness of this?!
Oh, Daddy Tom. You make my onions sweat just by looking at them.
It all started because of my sleep cycle. As it gets later at night, I get more awake, so Wahooty suggested I might be a rodent of some type. I started to protest, but then agreed because I do like to nest. Plus I like cheese. And they hibernate, which I totally would, if I didn't have to have a job and earn money and watch TV. Marmots eat mostly greens, and I like greens. We couldn't think of many super-hero powers I would have as a marmot, except that my voice can get pretty shrill when I'm excited, so possibly I could temporarily deafen (or at least startle)
my enemies. And Wahooty said that I could wiggle my nose cutely and charm men. We're ground dwelling creatures, though, so we don't fly. I'd make a good super-hero on The Tick, with my limited abilities. Emmarmot, Wahooty named me.
iled and said hi. And can I say that he is just the most adorable man ever?
