In Case You Were Wondering What It Is We Do Around Here

Just sayin'.

Some Awesome Animal Videos For Your Sunday

You. Are. Welcome.

A New Joy

On my days off, I like to get started late.
I wake up around the normal time, lay in bed and read or pet the sleeping lion that lives with me.
I venture downstairs, fire up the laptop, and turn on The Food Network.
Usually, Ina Garten.
Because I'm cool like that.
As someone who has lived on a restricted diet for the last several years of their life due to various forays into vegetarianism, veganism, ambitions of weight-loss, and now, gluten-free (not a choice, merely necessity), I like to play a little game with the shows I watch. It involves trying to modify recipes in my head, to a point where I can consume them based on the rules of my current food-intake requirements.
Sometimes, it works out.
Sometimes, it can't be done.
Either way, it always fun and I'm always inspired and usually hungry.

Today was one such day.
Ina, Peanut, and I were hanging on the couch while I checked my e-mail and did other important things (like read my newsfeed on Facebook).

There I was, bemoaning the fact that we had nothing remotely gluten-free in the house (I need to go shopping) and I was hungry.
Ina's recipes tend to have that effect on me.
Except I didn't want to bust out all my mad cooking skills this early in the morning (okay... it was noon, but whatever). I kind of needed something that was easy.
So, let's recap:
Easy.
Delicious.
All ingredients present in the household.
Gluten-free.
Right.

Then, I looked up and Ina was making eggs.

Holy crap, I forgot about eggs.

Maybe I didn't really forget about them.
But in my defense I didn't eat them for a long time, due to the veganess.

Okay.
Eggs.
I can do that.

And I did.
They were good.
Of course I ate them with hot sauce.
My Dad insists.
Funny story: when Molly and I lived in England, I carried a bottle of Tabasco in my purse with me wherever we went. The Brits aren't particularly famous for their food.
You can ask her. I'm sure the image is burned into her brain.
She probably has nightmares of the embarrassment I caused her.

Ina says they are best when cooked over a low, slow heat.
Generally I am not that patient.
However when Ina tells me to do something, I do it.
And she was right.
Apparently, the French cook their scrambled eggs in a double-boiler.
That would probably be super-delish, but I think I'll save that for a less desperate time.
To my credit, I think I went pretty slow. Or slower that usual.
I'm not really sure.

Either way, Ina saved the day.
As usual.

Mother Lover

Have you ever met my Mom?
Allow me to introduce her.
She:
Loves reality television.
Went to college on a softball scholarship.
Gave birth to her third child at home.
Doesn't wear make-up because she doesn't need to.
Thinks The Lonely Island are a riot and (not so) secretly wants me to marry Andy Samberg so she will have talented and hilarious grandchildren.
Admits that Napoleon Dynamite is her favorite movie (a close second? Forgetting Sarah Marshall).
Still loves me no matter how much I've charged to her credit card during past shopping endeavors.
Makes spaghetti sauce better than anyone you know.
Always tells the truth.
Has been married to the same man for 32 years.
Loves her children more than she loves herself.

In other words? She is awesome.

I'm pretty lucky to have such a cool Mother, no?

In honor of all you mothers and mother lovers out there, I give you....my mom's fave video.

Tina Fey is the Sh!t.

I couldn't even read this aloud to my Mom without hysterics.
Can I be this talented one day?
From here.

A Mother's Prayer for her Child: by Tina Fey

“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.”

-Tina Fey

These...

...are what I'm using to distract myself from the craziness in this world right now.

Did I mention that I'm allergic to gluten? Well I am. It's awesome. Especially when you're half Italian. ALL THOSE PEOPLE EAT IS PASTA. I AM ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE.
Thankfully, there's Gluten Free Girl. Have you met her? She's awesome. You should check her out. Even if you've not had the gluten-free lifestyle thrust upon you (it's actually not that bad. I'm just being dramatic and bitter...par for the course, really).

My admiration for the genius and hilarity of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Maybe you should jump on the bandwagon. The same goes for Eastbound and Down. Danny McBride is the shiznit.

The newest book by innovative make-up artist and photographer and all around badass Francois Nars, Makeup Your Mind: Express Yourself. So inspiring. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up. Review post to follow. Promise promise.

PS- I'm really liking Katy Perry these days. Not gonna lie.

There Is No Death Worth Rejoicing