“…and i think to myself…what a wonderful world…”
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| (via: reblog) |
1/5th of #11 is in the can
4(ish) down 36 to go.
9.30.11: Jaxx Steakhouse. Blackened chicken salad with crab-stuffed mushrooms
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| (see that wee guy in the front? he’s the first one I ate) |
The first bite was ok.
For the sake of the experiment (aka: “The List”), I didn’t swallow it down all quick-like (like when I was a kid trying to clean my plate before Dad tied me to the chair. But that’s another story.) I chewed slowly, allowing my tongue and taste buds to experience (and possible savor?) this new taste in my mouth.
As I said, the first bite was ok; non-whelming at best. So I immediately speared a second ‘shroom. It, too, was ok. And, I must say, I was feeling mighty cocky. Halfway through the third bite, however, the novelty suddenly wore off, and knew if I didn’t fully ingest soon, the entire restaurant would be seeing bites 1-3 again. In living color. (Or in shades of mushroomy gray, in this case.)
All of which leads me to determine–once and for all…
I don’t like mushrooms.
Now, I can see how some people might consider this first attempt a FAIL. But the exercise wasn’t to necessarily prove that–because of my finicky ways–I’ve been missing out on this major deliciousness my whole life. The exercise was to try something new. And be brave about it.
Therefore: Huge success. HUGE.
So I’ll say it again….
I don’t like mushrooms!!
The End.
10.1.11: Braums. banana split
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| (see those little yellow devils poking out the end?) |
Those of you who know me, know that–although I LOVE bananas with a grand passion–I have an even grander passion about how I eat them. Or rather how I WILL NOT eat them.
The wills: peel the banana myself and eat immediately.
The will nots: basically every other way. No banana bread, no bananas foster, no banana pudding, no banana cream pie, no fried peanut butter & banana sandwich, no bananarama…
You get the point.
But this is war.
Braums dessert is my krytonite, so I figured it was a safe place to conduct tonight’s experiment. And if there were any potential mishaps, like yesterday’s mushroom near-debacle, I would at least have three scoops of ice cream to cheer me up.
Allow me to set the scene:
The night was warm, the hour was late. My partner-in-crime and I were sitting outside in her Chevy Malibu–because the inside of beloved Braums is always too cold and smells like rotten bacon. Said banana split was balancing on my knees. I started at the vanilla side, bravely loading up my white plastic fork with a little something from every layer.
I was a bit worried about the slime-factor/mushiness, of the banana but–perhaps because of its near-frozen state–the texture was rather……perfect.
I loved it.
And, although I didn’t finish the entire thing (it was huge, mind you, and I’d just eaten a plate of fish n’ chips from a neighborhood Irish Pub we just found), I pretty much kicked the crap out of that sundae.
Another success.
Howdy, folks!
Yes, oh, yes! It’s that time of year again. The kids are back in school, the weather has dipped to a cool yet still rather uncomfortably sultry 95, baseball playoffs, hockey preseason. Which mean…
The Great State Fair of Texas!
I haven’t decided yet if I’m going. It’s been a few years, but really…how much has changed? Maybe I’ll just stay home and visit the fair vicariously though watching the evening news.
Sounds lovely. Less crowds, too.
Of course…they have been, bragging for a month about the new and old-favorite deep-fried deliciousness on this year’s menu. (PS: Here’s a wee example: “Heavenly Deep Fried Brownies,” “Double Fried Chicken Breast Taco,” “Deep Fried Whole Lotta Chocolatta.” Honestly, I don’t know what any of that means, but I’m a bit curious to find out!)
Here’s how Mary does the fair: First stop: funnel cake. Then I make a single lap through the Midway, possibly pop by the livestock (depending on what kind of shoes I’m wearing and the general humidity–which tends to make everything smell a bit “riper”), eat enough greasy-deliciousness (“It’s only once a year!!”) to make me want to puke, and then immediately spend fifty bucks on the rides–quite possibly revisiting (midair) that second funnel cake I just inhaled.
A splendid time is guaranteed for all. -John Lennon
Howdy, folks!
Yes, oh, yes! It’s that time of year again. The kids are back in school, the weather has dipped to a cool yet still rather uncomfortably sultry 95, baseball playoffs, hockey preseason. Which mean…
The Great State Fair of Texas!
I haven’t decided yet if I’m going. It’s been a few years, but really…how much has changed? Maybe I’ll just stay home and visit the fair vicariously though watching the evening news.
Sounds lovely. Less crowds, too.
Of course…they have been, bragging for a month about the new and old-favorite deep-fried deliciousness on this year’s menu. (PS: Here’s a wee example: “Heavenly Deep Fried Brownies,” “Double Fried Chicken Breast Taco,” “Deep Fried Whole Lotta Chocolatta.” Honestly, I don’t know what any of that means, but I’m a bit curious to find out!)
Here’s how Mary does the fair: First stop: funnel cake. Then I make a single lap through the Midway, possibly pop by the livestock (depending on what kind of shoes I’m wearing and the general humidity–which tends to make everything smell a bit “riper”), eat enough greasy-deliciousness (“It’s only once a year!!”) to make me want to puke, and then immediately spend fifty bucks on the rides–quite possibly revisiting (midair) that second funnel cake I just inhaled.
A splendid time is guaranteed for all. -John Lennon
KC&CO
“Keep Calm and Carry On” was a poster produced by the British government in 1939 during the beginning of the Second World War, intended to raise the morale of the British public in the event of invasion.
In 2000, an original printing of the KC&CO poster was rediscovered in a second-hand bookshop in Alnwick, Northumberland.
I have a copy of the poster at work, at home, and as numerous bookmarks. The succinct message is nothing if not a reminder; a way for me to mentally check-in. I may not be expecting the Germans to blitz at any moment, but tapping into the nostalgic British philosophy of …
“…unshowily brave and just a little stiff, brewing tea as the bombs fall…”
is something I happily stand behind.
KC&CO
“Keep Calm and Carry On” was a poster produced by the British government in 1939 during the beginning of the Second World War, intended to raise the morale of the British public in the event of invasion.
In 2000, an original printing of the KC&CO poster was rediscovered in a second-hand bookshop in Alnwick, Northumberland.
I have a copy of the poster at work, at home, and as numerous bookmarks. The succinct message is nothing if not a reminder; a way for me to mentally check-in. I may not be expecting the Germans to blitz at any moment, but tapping into the nostalgic British philosophy of …
“…unshowily brave and just a little stiff, brewing tea as the bombs fall…”
is something I happily stand behind.
#17 is in the can
3 down, 37 to go.
Au Revior, Chuck Bass. We’ll always have season 2.
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| (via: Ramblings) |
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| (via: fanpop) |
ex-oh-ex-oh…..
#17 is in the can
3 down, 37 to go.
Au Revior, Chuck Bass. We’ll always have season 2.
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| (via: Ramblings) |
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| (via: fanpop) |
ex-oh-ex-oh…..
music to my ears
June. 1990. Sacramento. Football stadium in the guise of a concert venue. My first live show.
“Where are our seats?” I asked my two friends—J and T—who were flanking me as we walked across the green grass of the field.
“Up…there.” J pointed approximately two thousand rows up. We turned from there toward the stage, gauging the distance. Then moaned. Billy Joel’s greatest hits was playing over the loud speaker, beckoning us toward the stage like a siren’s song, where a hundred people sat on the grass in sporadic groups.
“Let’s just wander over there,” T suggested. “When they check our tickets, we’ll leave and find our seats.” Yeah. Seemed logical.
So we joined the crowd on the five yard line just as the opening act took the stage. No one checked our tickets, and the empty spots on the grass around us quickly began filling with fans. As we swayed and attempted to sing along to the weird British band no one’s ever heard of, our trio smiled at each other, none of us willing to do the right thing and give up our spots, while individually wondering if we could be thrown in Juvenile Hall for our actions. After a while, however, it was pretty evident that we were safe. As Bros made their lackluster exit…the teenaged shrieking began. I guarantee I was one of the loudest.
So we joined the crowd on the five yard line just as the opening act took the stage. No one checked our tickets, and the empty spots on the grass around us quickly began filling with fans. As we swayed and attempted to sing along to the weird British band no one’s ever heard of, our trio smiled at each other, none of us willing to do the right thing and give up our spots, while individually wondering if we could be thrown in Juvenile Hall for our actions. After a while, however, it was pretty evident that we were safe. As Bros made their lackluster exit…the teenaged shrieking began. I guarantee I was one of the loudest.
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| sing it, Deb! |
When she took the stage—the girl who, for years, had molded and inspired everything from the way I wore my hair in a high, seemingly-sloppy pony tail, to the little faces I drew on my knees through the rip in my jeans, to her trademark black fedora I simply had to have—it felt like I was in a dream. I never knew you could be so close to a celebrity. And it was love at first sight. She opened with this, and two hours later (after a few thousand signature hops, fists, finger points and jazz fingers), ended with this. (PS: I still know the dance.) As promised by Deb, there truly was electricity in the air that night. And, as far as live music…I was hooked.
Twenty years later, I haven’t looked back.
Here’s a little sampling of who I’ve seen live on stage:
Debbie Gibson (twice), No Doubt. Backstreet Boys (twice), Marie Osmond, The Eagles, Great White, Air Supply, REO Speedwagon, Nickleback, Panic at the Disco, Gavin DeGraw, Don Henley, Barry Manilow (twice), Marilyn Manson, Dasboard Confessional, Ingrid Michaelson, Stained, Harry Connick, Jr., Mandy Moore, Lyle Lovett, Bret Michaels, Sara Bareilles (twice), Maroon 5 (twice), Paramore, Lonestar Attitude, CCR, OneRepublic, Doobie Brothers, Billy Joel, Train, and too many cover bands and Beatles tribute bands to name, although I do have my favorites.
Who I still want to see:
Debbie Gibson (again), Alanis Morissette, McFly, The Spice Girls (don’t judge me!), Lionel Richie, The Corrs, Sara Bareilles (every time she rolls through town, please), Eliza Doolittle, James Taylor
Bonus list of who-I-still-want-to-sees:
The Beatles, Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, Michael Jackson
music to my ears
June. 1990. Sacramento. Football stadium in the guise of a concert venue. My first live show.
“Where are our seats?” I asked my two friends—J and T—who were flanking me as we walked across the green grass of the field.
“Up…there.” J pointed approximately two thousand rows up. We turned from there toward the stage, gauging the distance. Then moaned. Billy Joel’s greatest hits was playing over the loud speaker, beckoning us toward the stage like a siren’s song, where a hundred people sat on the grass in sporadic groups.
“Let’s just wander over there,” T suggested. “When they check our tickets, we’ll leave and find our seats.” Yeah. Seemed logical.
So we joined the crowd on the five yard line just as the opening act took the stage. No one checked our tickets, and the empty spots on the grass around us quickly began filling with fans. As we swayed and attempted to sing along to the weird British band no one’s ever heard of, our trio smiled at each other, none of us willing to do the right thing and give up our spots, while individually wondering if we could be thrown in Juvenile Hall for our actions. After a while, however, it was pretty evident that we were safe. As Bros made their lackluster exit…the teenaged shrieking began. I guarantee I was one of the loudest.
So we joined the crowd on the five yard line just as the opening act took the stage. No one checked our tickets, and the empty spots on the grass around us quickly began filling with fans. As we swayed and attempted to sing along to the weird British band no one’s ever heard of, our trio smiled at each other, none of us willing to do the right thing and give up our spots, while individually wondering if we could be thrown in Juvenile Hall for our actions. After a while, however, it was pretty evident that we were safe. As Bros made their lackluster exit…the teenaged shrieking began. I guarantee I was one of the loudest.
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| sing it, Deb! |
When she took the stage—the girl who, for years, had molded and inspired everything from the way I wore my hair in a high, seemingly-sloppy pony tail, to the little faces I drew on my knees through the rip in my jeans, to her trademark black fedora I simply had to have—it felt like I was in a dream. I never knew you could be so close to a celebrity. And it was love at first sight. She opened with this, and two hours later (after a few thousand signature hops, fists, finger points and jazz fingers), ended with this. (PS: I still know the dance.) As promised by Deb, there truly was electricity in the air that night. And, as far as live music…I was hooked.
Twenty years later, I haven’t looked back.
Here’s a little sampling of who I’ve seen live on stage:
Debbie Gibson (twice), No Doubt. Backstreet Boys (twice), Marie Osmond, The Eagles, Great White, Air Supply, REO Speedwagon, Nickleback, Panic at the Disco, Gavin DeGraw, Don Henley, Barry Manilow (twice), Marilyn Manson, Dasboard Confessional, Ingrid Michaelson, Stained, Harry Connick, Jr., Mandy Moore, Lyle Lovett, Bret Michaels, Sara Bareilles (twice), Maroon 5 (twice), Paramore, Lonestar Attitude, CCR, OneRepublic, Doobie Brothers, Billy Joel, Train, and too many cover bands and Beatles tribute bands to name, although I do have my favorites.
Who I still want to see:
Debbie Gibson (again), Alanis Morissette, McFly, The Spice Girls (don’t judge me!), Lionel Richie, The Corrs, Sara Bareilles (every time she rolls through town, please), Eliza Doolittle, James Taylor
Bonus list of who-I-still-want-to-sees:
The Beatles, Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, Michael Jackson
Ophelia London 