Archive for May, 2013

Unless you’re my mother, then it is for you. Because I told her about this a while ago and then forgot about it, so I’m posting it in case she hasn’t seen it on The-Site-That-Will-Not-Be-Named.*











We need one of these in every city in America, it would make someone a billionaire in under a week.


I Don’t Even …

At my work they have a schedule where everyone makes a birthday cake for someone else, it changes every year so you rarely get the same person twice. Like any group of people, our baking talents range from store-bought cake to a Madarine Napoleon liqueur-infused cake with a dark chocolate ganache on the side. (That would be one of the tellers, W, and everyone wants her to get their name.) This year I got the boss’ name, which wouldn’t be a problem except he’s got Celiac disease which rules out pretty much every kind of cake I know how to make. Luckily he likes Rice Krispies squares, so I decided to make those.

While buying the ingredients, I noticed that the recipe for Rice Krispies was on the cereal and the marshmallows, but there was a second recipe on the marshmallow bag.

For s’mores. On a bag on miniature marshmallows.

Why on Earth would anyone need a recipe for s’mores? It’s chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers.



I’ve been yearning for muffins for the past few weeks. I could have gone out and bought one, but they are always better when you make them at home. The only problem was that I had gone through most of the boxes from when I moved and couldn’t find my muffin tins. MD looked at their house and couldn’t find them, so she bought me one when she went thrifting.

Last weekend I decided to go through a couple of boxes that had been pushed to one side of the living room, I thought I knew what was in them – non-essential kitchen stuff and my bento boxes – so I hadn’t been in any hurry to open them. I found my sandwich grill/waffle maker and … my muffin tins, complete with paper liners. Sitting less than five feet from the kitchen, while I was digging through every other box I had.

I felt really brilliant.

This will be tasteful, right?

Deja Vu

So here’s what a typical morning for me is like. I walk into the hall bathroom and see this;

Hey. You thinking about turning the water on?

If I go into the studio bathroom, this is the sight that occasionally greets me.

What? I was just taking a nap. That new girl is a freak.

It’s a good thing I have two bathrooms. Thank goodness Simon is nor … Ahh, never mind.

Tight FIt

Among her other possessions, Maggie had a little soft-sided house that she likes to nap in. Fearless, much like a toddler, only wants what someone else has and has decided she likes the little house as well even though it’s not really meant for a cat of her … generousness.

I fit fine!

I can always tell when Fearless has been using the house because when she tries to get out she normally drags it for some distance before extracting herself.

Did You Know …

If a set of identical twin women married a set of identical twin men and each couple had children, those children would (genetically speaking) be siblings?

Think about it; identical twins are genetically the same, so if the sisters, let’s call them Sally and Suzie, married twin men, we’ll call them Tommy and Timmy, then each couple would have the same available genetic material to contribute to offspring. Sally and Tommy’s kids would have a similar genetic structure to Suzie and Timmy’s children. There is even a very very slight and extremely unlikely chance that one of  Sally and Tommy’s kids cold be identical to one of Suzie and Timmy’s. (The probability is vanishingly small, but it is remotely possible.) Then imagine if those nearly-impossible children married a set of identical twins themselves.

It makes you think.

I watch a lot of videos on YouTube, and some of them are … not what you would normally expect to see. There are quite a lot of videos of people doing pretty mundane things, like this one. It’s a guy getting a haircut and shave in a Turkish bazaar and seems pretty standard until the 3:40 mark. That’s when the barber lights a little torch-thing on fire and then uses the flames to remove his customer’s ear hairs.

I am not shitting you.

What gets me is that the customer is so nonchalant about it. Like it’s not really a big deal that a total stranger is flinging fire into his auditory canals. This is apparently a normal thing in Turkish barber shops; this fella does a very thorough job.  

Do The Dance Of Joy!

Remember that test I mentioned I was studying for? I passed!

It was a bitch and a half, though.

I’ve signed up for the VITA program through work, but in order to take the classes I need to get certified, I had to pass a test. As it’s an IRS program, that means studying a stack of IRS publications.

A stack roughly half the size of a medium-sized cat.

I’m pleased to report I got a near-perfect 97! Now I get to take the class, which I’ve heard is pretty boring, and then take another test.

Dammit. At least I’ll eventually get a raise, though.