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I'm expanding my cocktail repertoire to include whiskey, because after reminiscing about how wonderful the Jameson we had last year on St. Patrick's day was (and also on the goodness of whiskey in general, cheers to this summer's Bassoon Camping expedition), I finally took it upon myself to buy a bottle. That was a week or more ago; until tonight I've been sipping it straight, which is smooth and boozy and good, but hey, it's Saturday night at the beginning of spring break, and I saw an incredible concert (FIREBIRD @ THE PSO, GUH) tonight, so -- cocktail tiem!

New York Cocktail
1 1/2 oz. Whiskey (translate to: 3 parts)
1/2 oz. Lime Juice (1 part)
1 tsp sugar syrup or powdered sugar (relatively arbitrary amount of simple syrup -- easy to make at home! It's been sitting in my cabinet for months.)
dash grenadine (smallish arbitrary amount)
shake with ice
garnish with orange twist (which I did not do because who the fuck has orange twists lying around? I sure as fuck wasn't making one.)

It's pretty delicious -- sweet with a burn of whiskey, and a tart aftertaste.

I originally wanted to do the Los Angeles Cocktail -- whiskey, several dashes sweet vermouth, lemon juice, sugar syrup, and "1/2 raw egg", but (a) sweet vermouth is vile and I don't keep it at home and (b) I am leery of making cocktails with egg. I had a White Lady at a bar a little while back (gin, cream, sugar syrup, egg white) and it was pretty great, but that was an actual bartender making it and I don't really want to do it myself, eh?

Other things I have drunk at bars and restaurants recently: Pomegranate Margarita (okay, so this was at the Cheesecake Factory, it still counts); Aqua Velva (equal parts vodka, gin, and blue curaçao, topped up with sprite) at the Harris Grill; Singapore Sling (gin, sloe gin, sour mix, soda, top with cherry brandy?) at Joe Mama's. All delicious. But what I recommend, next time you're at a Cheesecake Factory, is the blueberry mojito -- Dena got this and it is crazy delicious. Despite the fact that I haven't really been feeling rum ever since the fateful Pirate Party, years and years ago.

Mmmm, booze :)

AND ALSO!! Presents from YouTube:
The Most Overused Line In Cinema
Playing bassoon is cool. (Dan says this might be the most highbrow penis joke ever, but somehow (shockingly) I don't follow...)
Smooth Criminal covered by two BADASS cellists. Can I be this rock and roll? Pls?
Sammy Davis, Jr., does impressions of his fellow crooners
Do tigers like catnip? I WANT TO RUB ALL THEIR BELLIES. OMG.
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Because apparently right now I can write prodigiously on any topic... except that of the measly four-page midterm paper that is now a week late. For serious, guys, I couldn't even get that shit done sitting in the quiet study section of the library.

1. The accent. I can't get a handle on it, you guys, and you know how I am about accents. The thing is, the people I hear on the street either sound like The South, or they sound like they could be from Anytown, USA. It's freaky. And the people I see day-to-day are from, like, all over the world, so that doesn't help me get a handle on the Pittsburgh accent. I'm actually pretty disappointed by this, it's supposed to be quite distinctive. (The girl in the unit next door is from West Virginia, but when mum and I met her I would have placed her as Texan. Then again, Comrade P actually is from Texas, and he doesn't sound it at all. So I dunno, maybe it's just me. But still!)

2. The Booze Store. Pennsylvania has ridiculously strict liquor laws, apparently because it was settled by a bunch of Jesus freaks and, you know, Amish and Quakers and shit. Which means that booze cannot be found in the grocery store (well i guess there's some thing about each franchise being able to get liquor licenses for three stores in the entire state but whatevs). There's a Wine & Spirits store (which sells only wine and spirits -- liqueurs and hard liquor -- and no beer) a couple blocks from my apartment, so that's dandy. So far the only places I am personally certain sell beer are the zillion tiny hole-in-the-wall pizza places -- this seems to be the easiest way to get a six-pack, it seems. Supposedly there is a store in the borough north of mine that has a Beer Store where 24-packs can be had for a ridiculous price, but I haven't seen it with my own eyes yet. BUT ANYWAY the Wine & Spirits store. I'm fond of it. The selection is good, even if wines are at least a dollar more here than they would be in California (and I don't know if this is PA's fault, or the shipping distance, because Barefoot Wine should be $4.99 but it is $5.99 here and apparently this is a place where people utter the phrase "three-buck Chuck" (oh Charles Shaw what have you done to yourself :c)); it's organized and the aisles are clearly labeled and there's all sorts of fancy shit that I'd probably have to go to an actual liquor store to find in California, like white creme de menthe and shit. But the employees seem angry or unhappy or something; they're always really brusque. And I don't know why. I don't think it's me.... I'm polite, I'm clean, I'm neatly dressed, I'm of legal drinking age (and I don't look suspiciously young or anything), I say "hello" and "thank you" and "have a good $TIMEOFDAY." So... I don't get it. Maybe they are annoyed that I usually have to fish in my bookbag to find my wallet to show them my ID.


a further note on booze: Grasshoppers, which are delicious and minty and green. Equal parts cream, creme de menthe (green hell yes), and creme de cacao (wiki says white but I just used brown and the drink still ends up quite green so I have decided it makes no damn difference). Shake with ice & serve in a chilled cocktail glass. Reminiscent of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream: sweet and full of calories. TASTY!
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Tuesday was another concert (it seriously feels like concert after concert here, and I'm not even in them all) -- Beethoven 7, in which I played second bassoon and I swear to god, I've never felt so insecure about my intonation in my life. Not even when Maestro has called me out, not even on uncontrollable contrabassoons. I don't even know. But they're so exposed, the wind parts in that symphony, and playing second bassoon is a big responsibility in terms of intonation. (And I wish more bassoonists I've played with would understand this. Playing second isn't a consequence of "not being good enough to play first" and it doesn't mean you don't matter, jesus. You are the bass voice. You control the pitch.) But anyway, my sources in the audience tell me that the woodwind intonation was excellent (certainly better than the brass or the strings), so I guess I count that one as a win despite my anxiety. (but seriously there were a few chords where I just didn't even play because I had no idea where the pitch center was or where I was supposed to be. it was so upsetting.)

Anyway. Afterwards, the bull-like percussionist I mentioned the other day came up to me while I was packing up, and asked me if I was doing anything after the concert. "I don't know," I answered honestly, and at point I needed to dump my reed water, so I excused myself for a minute. He didn't really continue the conversation when I came back, and I was frazzled enough from the performance and the pressing need to go find my teacher and see what she thought of it, that I wasn't totally aware of anything except for making sure I had all my stuff (and you know me, I always have an epic amount of stuff). Anyway, after I had managed to put my coat back on, he kind of mumbled a farewell at me, and I must have looked back at him wild-eyed, because he said something about how I had a lot going on or something. I didn't realize until later that, oh, oops, he was trying to ask me out, and I was so flustered and distracted that he just kind of gave up.

I mentioned it later to Comrade P and the principal oboist and flautist, because we ended up going for a drink (there's a bar near my apartment with AMAZING winter drinks -- apple cider with rum, which was what I had, and some pretty excellent-sounding coffee drinks and chocolate and/or caramel flavoured things. Must remember to return), and while the girls were advising me to just accept dates if I'm undecided because, hey, free meal (I love musicians. So pragmatic about food), I realised that, completely aside from not being remotely into him, I kind of don't want a relationship. I'm quite accustomed to being totally starved for touch by now, and while it's now awesome, I'm not that desperate -- I can handle it for a while longer. Honestly, I don't want to try to make space in my life for someone else right now; I have enough going on with my bassoon and my cats and just trying to make friends, and not lose the ones that are scattered around the country. (but a hookup or two wouldn't be the worst thing ever, i mean, a girl has needs, amirite?)

So yeah. Whatever. I do feel like I should apologize to the poor dude for being such a spaz, but in one of those weird twists of kismet or something, I haven't run into him even once since Tuesday. *shrug*

(Subjects this entry has had: "Hmm," "Single McSingleton," "Perennially Single")
(Also: I am once again contemplating my singleness while baking cookies. WTF is this? I blame texting with Will, he always makes me get all romantically introspective. It's a knee-jerk reaction from high school when we were both pretentious and I wanted to impress him with how deep I am. Talking is much easier now that we both understand that he takes things at face value and means exactly what he says, and that I almost never say what I mean. Hah.)

(In other news, I think I have discovered How Not To Eat All The Cookie Dough Before It Becomes Cookies (or How Not To Eat All The Cookies You Just Baked): improvise a disturbingly sweet but still boozy cocktail from whatever is on hand (in my case, gin, dry vermouth, and creme de menthe syrup (not proper creme de menthe mind you -- just sweet minty syrup), stirred) and drink it while you're baking. It effectively removes any desire to consume anything else that is sweet. (OH MY GOD THE NESTED PARENTHESES, LET ME SHOW YOU THEM. HAVE I CLOSED THEM ALL PROPERLY? I HOPE SO, JFC.))

(In other other news, today the rice cooker arrived in the mail (yeah, mum mailed me the one I had at the apartment last year. Mum mails me a lot of things lately. I'm so glad she loves me.), so tonight was TOFU CURRY OVER RICE EXTRAVAGANZA!!!!!! Because I tried tofu curry over pasta before i found the rice at the grocery store, and it was DISGUSTING LIKE A DISGUSTING THING. I made the curry sauce myself. It was weirdly bland, though... I am not sure what it needs. The recipe is here, and I added some ground ginger because ginger is the shit, okay? Anyway, I'd appreciate thoughts on this recipe. MOAR FLAVR: WANT. HOW I CAN HAS??)

(@ 3:43 -- Cookies: finished. My sleep schedule: officially fuxx0red! :D !!!)
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OMG you guys, I just softened my frozen butter by defrosting it in my microwave. I have been using this recipe for years, and have muddled through the quandary of how to soften the butter (which my family has always stored in the freezer, since forever, okay?) for just as long.

We have always had a microwave. There has always been the option to "defrost by weight." And, guys, it's so easy. It works so well.

You remember all that arrogance from a couple hours ago, about how awesomely smart I am?

I take it back.


also: I am mailing homemade cookies from scratch to a dude who I'm not even dating -- not even interested in dating. You guys, I'm seriously a really good girlfriend. What newspaper do I have to leak that to, to get some play already?

No! No, I should shut up, there is hope. Because Hot Tuba Guy is hot, and Cute Tall Composer is cute, and they're both really chatty. (Geeky Oboe Guy would be setting my standards too low, I think, and Bull-Like Percussionist is unfortunately not remotely my type...) (Am I allowed to date more bass players? Because there are a couple who are pretty attractive.) (p.s. dear cmu, where are you hiding the cute butches with fauxhawks? this is a demographic i sorely miss. yrs cordially, s.)
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Last week -- two weeks ago? Er, maybe, oops -- I bought a "locally-grown" eggplant from Giant Eagle, which appears to be Pittsburgh's answer to Ralphs. Last night, I decided it was about damn time to cook it. I considered making eggplant parmesan, but then I thought, no, how cliché, and also, omg prolly way too complicated, as well as, bread crumbs? fuck that shit! So instead I went to BBC Food and searched for "eggplant."

And it returned zero hits.

And then, feeling rather idiotic, I seared for "aubergine," and lo, there were recipes! And then I narrowed it to "vegetarian" (not because I'm actually vegetarian, guys, but because I get squeamish when handling raw meat cannot be arsed to cook meat) and "main course" and "quick & easy" and decided my best option was...

Aubergine Pizza )

You may have noticed that this only used half an eggplant. I used the other half tonight (and, note to self: if you really want to get to bed before midnight ever, you should stop cooking elaborate dinners after 9 pm) in a much more self-directed creation.

Eggplant Pasta )


p.s. Earning my membership to the Latent Alcoholics Club here... I paired both these dishes with Barefoot Shiraz, a dry red. It's pretty good wine, on a student's budget -- usually $4.99 in CA, and a dollar or two more here in Pittsburgh (probably on account of having to send it far away, their HQ is in Modesto). You know. Because I'm a lush.
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So I definitely meant to make several different posts throughout the past week, none of which actually happened. So I'll abbreviate my week, I guess, in order to have sort of a clean slate before going back to the high school in the morning.

1. Monday night we had the first of three Double Reed Studios classes on practising. This week's was Practising and Imagination, and it was pretty cool. It culminated in the oboe teacher having us all come up, one by one, and write a signed statement that said, "I promise to practise at least five minutes every day," and then giving us a little notebook to use as a practise log. As cult-like as it seems (and that's totally what it was -- an initiation ritual into the double reed practise cult), it's worked, at least for this week. I have indeed practised at least five minutes every day. Maybe having witnesses to that resolution is what's keeping me honest? Or maybe it's the notebook?
Afterwards we went to Margarita Mondays at Acapulco for Double Reed Bonding. Yay!

2. The kitties had a bath this week, and I find ways to improve my cat bathing technique every time I do it! This week's revelation: don't let them get above knee level. If you lift them, they will climb you. If you kneel, they will climb you. And if they jump to what they think is a decent enough height, they will then jump from there onto you and they will climb you. And being climbed is painful.
They were so fluffy afterwards, though! You know, after they sat and licked the water off for a couple hours.

3. Bratty New Library Assistant is in my Music of Asia class and he is a twat. Sat behind me in lecture on Tuesday and talked the entire time. Some of my favourite parts were when the professor struck a pair of finger cymbals to signify the start of class and he said, "You did not just ring a bell at me," when my friend Sarah shushed him (this happened several times but the best one was when he protested that he wasn't talking and retorted "you're talking right now!"), and when my TA was giving a powerpoint presentation involving nagas -- serpent deities -- and he got squeamish about a photograph of a statue of a snake (Sarah wrote in the margin of my notes, "MAN UP!" and "CAHONES!!" [sic])

4. On Wednesday we played some chamber music (incl. the Dvořák Wind Serenade) at the Chancellor's Residence on campus, and today when my mum came (to make me sign my taxes) she brought a lovely thank-you note from the Chancellor's wife. Awwwwww.

5. We've started rehearsing the orchestra parts for Flight, this quarter's opera, and it is so. Fun.

6. The (pro bono btw) recording session for WITH GREAT POWER, the documentary about Stan "The Man" Lee, finally happened on Friday. It was by turns exciting (My First Recording Gig! Capitol Records Studio! New bassoon friend! STAN LEE!!!) and frustrating (Terrible strings! Worst Cellos Evar! Bad horns! Bitch pianist! DIAF saying stupid things! Everything took FOREVER!!!). BUT they're going to send me (well, all the musicians) a copy of the DVD and and invitation to the premiere party, which would hopefully have CELEBRITIES!!! like STAN LEE!!!! at it. I told my brother he could be my plus one. There are actually more stories about Friday but I have to teach at 8 a.m. tomorrow.

7. So this week I have been seriously contemplating quitting the credential program. I don't know if it's because I am too afraid of all the work I haven't done yet (and when I say "all the work" I do mean all the work), but I feel like the only reason I'm still at it is to finish what I started, and I don't actually want the credential -- and by extension, I don't actually want to teach -- anymore. And I sort of feel like that's not a good enough reason to go through with it. I dunno. So far everyone I've talked to about it has told me to just suck it up and finish it because I'll be much more employable with a credential than without.

8. I have been cooking up a storm this weekend: asparagus omelet (it was going to be frittata but then I lost my nerve) rosemary cornbread muffins, sweet potato fries. And I found a recipe for rosemary asiago cornbread madeleines and I've decided to do it once I research and purchase a replacement for buttermilk. But I'll probably do them in a mini-muffin tin instead of a madeleine mold. Recipes to follow!

9. ... So I'm moving to Pittsburgh! I decided this morning, when mum was over. Hopefully I'm still able to get all the aid they offered, I kind of didn't read the part where I was supposed to turn in my assistantship application by either 15 or 31 March. I'm going to call the admissions officer about it tomorrow, as well as put the application and all of my "Y/N??" forms in the mail tomorrow.

10. Typing sideways in the dark is hard. I have done so much "typo-->delete (repeat ad nauseam) -->retype" tonight. Gah!
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I'm stalling. I finished putting away my clothes and I started organizing my Bullshit Binder for Busywork Class and now I'm typing recipes and I might upload pictures next, all because I don't want to work on my two projects (well, one project, due by 11:59 Monday, and one paper, due "Tuesday" which I'm taking to mean 11:59 Tuesday) -- both of which I want to have essentially finished by 6pm tomorrow. I also am avoiding studying for the citizenship/Constitution test that, for whatever bizarre unknown reason, we need to take for the credential program. (Took the CBEST yesterday morning -- absurdly easy, but I was angry because there was a question that was Wrong because the ratio 6:20 written as a fraction is 6/26 or 3/13, NOT 3/10. Motherfuckers.)

SO!!!!! Sweet potatoes (not yams) first.

For both recipes, you have to start by cooking the sweet potatoes: )

Recipe #1: Smashed Spiced Sweet Potatoes )

Recipe #2: Mashed Sweet Potatoes with Coconut Milk )

Recipe #3: Not Potatoes. Mashed Potato Chocolate Caek (plus my substitutions for veganification!) )

No, I'm serious. My brain screams, "CAEK! C-A-E-K!!!" every single time I reach for the word "cake." Unless we're taking about the band Cake, then it's spelled right. WTF, brain?
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coffee is love.

and so are potatoes gorgonzola. i sort of wish i'd called dibs on the leftovers instead of giving them to the composers because damn, potatoes gorgonzola sound so good right now.

okay, guys, important question: I bought a can of coconut milk last week, to use in a sweet potato recipe that I promise I'll post because, yum -- but I only needed to use a tiny bit of it and now I have most of a can of coconut milk sitting in my fridge and I don't know what to do with it. SO! What can I make using coconut milk?

In other news, last night I finally deleted DIAF's number from my phone. (I had kept it so that my phone would know to block the number, but seriously, probability was definitely against ever needing to use that function -- no reason he'd need to contact me, especially since he doesn't have the stones, yeah?) It felt good. At the risk of being premature, I seem to have released the all-consuming rage, finally. I know I'm better off. And yeah, I'll still make jokes about not wanting to go to the training orchestras' concerts because "I don't want to be arrested for assault" and there are just too many people in both of those that I need to punch in the face... but the heat that was once behind statements like that is lacking, now. And you know what? That's fine.
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1. BUT FIRST! a quiz. tarot )

2. Things I have cooked: cheesy bread, crepes )
Oh, speaking of cooking! That's what I did ALLLL MORNING today. Chocolate chip pancakes, which turned out a little too dry, maybe because I added some cocoa powder and it absorbed the milk? also I didn't measure the flour too painstakingly I guess. AND the little pumpkin my mum gave me was actually a PIE PUMPKIN! And I didn't make a pie with it, but I did scrape it out (with much elbow-grease) and make PUMPKIN MUSH by stirring its innards up with an egg, condensed milk, sugar, and spices (cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, cloves), pouring it into casserole dishes, and sticking it in the oven (no, I didn't measure anything here, either). I tried to roast the seeds (sprinkled half with sugar, half with salt, plus various spices on both sides, including cinnamon, chili powder, ginger, curry powder, and I forget what else) but I ended up burning them to a blackened crisp and setting off the smoke alarm and making the kittens hide under the bed. Oops.

3. Star Trek waffles! Also, I swear I don't hate Flatmate ALL the time. )
I do wonder how these actors feel about having their faces on waffles, and people eating them. I guess it's probably about the same as having their faces all over any other kind of promotional materials or tie-in merchandise or whatever.

4. Downtown LA and the opera costume shop sale: graffiti, a van, and fangirling a professor )

5. Travel fun: my commentary on a packet of peanuts )
I also had some napkins that were pretty great, but I have mislaid them. I really hope I didn't leave them tucked inside Dorian Gray when I returned it to the library :\

6. And some random stuff! YAAAAAY )


BUT FIRST! btw that concert tonight? THIS: )
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With... well, just me, really. No Jimmy Fallon, no Tina Fey, no Amy Poehler, sorry. (Can you tell from that list when I have watched SNL?)

FIRST!! I have seen NO FLEAS for the past few days. VICTORY IS MINE, Y/Y???

I cooked a lot this weekend! and by 'a lot' I actually mean that I made Rice-A-Roni (but hey, at least it's on the stove and not in the microwave, yes?), I steamed broccoli (this time in the microwave, but it was fresh broccoli), I baked cheese bread (this link goes to [ profile] copperbadge's recipe, because he is brilliant. I used havarti, smoked provolone, and asiago as my cheeses. I had too much salt in the herb mix, and next time I'm definitely switching the oregano for rosemary because I don't particularly like oregano, and I left it in the oven slightly too long, but the bread came out a lot fluffier than the first time I tried it (with p'tit basque and asiago) which was lovely, and anyway, my brother liked it), and I made crepes (filled with Nutella, pear slices, and peach slices. whipped my own cream, too! whipping cream + sweet vermouth (which was admittedly a little strange) + a splash of almond extract + a heaping spoonful of sugar when that wasn't sweet enough + LOTS OF ELBOW GREASE EH because I don't have an electric hand mixer and couldn't be fucked to get down the stand mixer and dirty yet another bowl okay?) for breakfast today. Plus I made myself a martini last night, and mixing is almost like cooking, yes? (I needed to finish the old gin because I bought new gin and had to justify it. don't judge me okay??)

btw, for those of you who don't know, a martini is this:
in a shaker: ice, gin (I like Bombay Sapphire but I'm too posh for my own good), "fond memories of vermouth" (I actually use a liberal splash, but I love that quote. Who said that?). And everyone says "stir, don't shake, you'll bruise the gin!" but I can't be arsed really so I stick the top on and I turn it over once or twice and then I strain into a glass (a cocktail glass, properly, but we have no cocktail glasses (they were Roomie's -- man I should get my ass some cocktail glasses, and some wine glasses) so thus far at the new apartment I have strained martinis into margarita glasses and, last night, into a coffee mug because I desperately didn't want to make even more washing up for myself after doing the washing up, then cooking, then washing up again). Garnish with olives impaled on a cocktail sword or something, I generally stick two onto a toothpick and call it a fucking night. Or if you're posh and you don't fancy olives you could garnish with a twist (of lemon peel), but honestly, who wants to make a goddamn twist? Plus I like olives.

I didn't used to like olives. Funny. I wonder when it changed?

Anyway. I had myself a bit of a Torchwood marathon this weekend, in between cooking and washing up and going to the market and attending a family function. I had stopped in the middle of the first series before Children of Earth aired in July, and now I've finished that and gotten about half-way through the second series, which is considerably less mockable than the first series. (Not mock-proof, note. Just less mockable.) And I kept getting ideas for shit, and jotting them down in my "fragments" file. So I might start writing again, god save me. Fanfiction.

No, I'm not sure I mean that the way it came out. Many good fanfiction authors are very much Good Authors In General, or at least have the potential to be should they every quit their day jobs. And it's not shameful, to have ideas and create things inspired by something you're into. It's not inferior to original fiction, but it has that social stigma, like pretty much every aspect of fandom. And I'm done denying who I am, right? I'm embracing the things that make me who I am, especially the geekery, so you know what? I am an avid reader of fanfiction. And I have been a writer of fanfiction, and I may become one again.

It's kind of crazy that Torchwood has gotten so much under my skin. I love it on a campy sci-fi level, and a Gays On TV! level, and an Actors Are Attractive People level, and a caring-about-characters level, and a fandom-makes-awesome-things level (fic, art, vids, icons) -- but then there's also the meta things: I like to read what other fans think about episodes, characterisation, themes and messages, and other fans' ideas. And I have had a lot to think about because of fandom, and because of the way I personally react to this show. It's led me to define and articulate what I think about love, what I think about relationships, and it (and even more so Doctor Who) has reminded me to appreciate the wonder of the world and the people around me. I don't think I was this consumed by Animorphs, or X-Men, or Harry Potter, or even Lord of the Rings. None of those have been so... thinky for me. Well. LotR got pretty scholarly-thinky, but not as personal-thinky. V for Vendetta and its message about integrity (Valerie, anyone?) was a step on this path, but it was nowhere near the level of personal growth Torchwood has triggered. And yet, it's a plot-holey, bad-sciencey, , campy, darker-edgier-sexier spinoff of a show that I didn't even properly watch before Torchwood sank its teeth into me. How can it have become such a phenomenon in my life?

It's very smoky in my area tonight.

The kitties were roughhousing on my bed earlier, but now they're just chilling. Baxter definitely jumped face-first into the wall a couple times, though. Uh.

Ducky (formerly Dizzy, formerly Maybe-Vasco-Maybe-Quantum) likes to sleep in the crevice that my bed makes against the wall. I guess it's probably because my apartment is hot and the wall is cold? But it worries me when I accidentally bump him or put a limp partially on top of him and he makes no complaint. What if I roll onto him in the night or something?

This morning I woke up and the kitties were curled up on either side of me, dozing and purring. It was brilliant.

I really need to practise tomorrow. I haven't since the last time I said I needed to practise. Oops.

OMG SO while driving with my family to day I heard both "Uprising" AND "Knights of Cydonia." SO. PUMPED. I was practically headbanging, with my mum and brother in the car. Honestly? Muse might be all I really need from pop music.

God I've been so tired today, and yet I've been typing this entry for nearly an hour. Priorities much? Gah.
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Meaning, I haven't tried them yet.

Pumpkin Swirl Brownies )

Traditional Eggnog )

Trinity (Chocolate, Banana, Croissant) Butter Pudding )

Buttermilk Fantail Rolls )

So when/if sometime I remember to make these I'll totally tell you about it, kkay?
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First, mild dissatisfaction: gin apparently hasn't been in vogue for so long that when I order gin cocktails, I mostly get asked -- BY THE BARTENDER -- "What's in that?" Which is both awkward and stressful, because honestly, I'm only familiar enough with most of these to remember either the name or the ingredients and usually not both. I got this reaction when I asked for a White Lady and a Gin Fizz. The White Lady I explained as "a sidecar, but with gin," which is true. (It went on the bill as a sidecar.) The Gin Fizz, the bartender was all, "So... gin and... lemon and soda water?" and I was like, "Uh. Yes." and it probably would have been much tastier had I remembered the sugar. *sigh*

Second, a discovery: Martinis are essentially gin-flavoured, unless you get a dirty martini in which case it's olive-flavoured. And while I like gin and I like the flavour of gin, I prefer my cocktails to taste like booze+stuff and not just be booze-flavoured. So, martinis and manhattans (which are essentially whiskey-flavoured) are pretty much out for the forseeable future. Which makes me sad because they're so old-and-classy (my delusion being that I enjoy middle-aged-man cocktails). Eh. G&T is also old-and-classy, and less booze-flavoured.
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Because I like gin a lot.

Boozy boozy booze! )

p.s. Watched the Grammys with Roomie & friends when I got home last night. I would totally have Thom Yorke's babies. All of Radiohead, really. (Even if they did use That Other School's marching band in the awards show.) Katy Perry... not so much. I mean... the woman is NOT a good performer. I would have maybe been okay with it if her show were sexy in any way but no, it was not. It was just Bad. Sad times, Katy Perry. But also, Justin Timberlake, for all I disparaged him in middle school and high school, is good at what he does and I respect that. Roomie says, "I would let him have my babies," and I am inclined to agree.
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Because the internet showed these things to me and they sound wonderful. Even if I might have to purchase things in order to make them.

Spicy Peanut Butter Soup )


No-Knead Bread )
sigmastolen: (omgcrab)
Yesterday mum made ginger snaps, but I didn't help -- JP and I were playing Gears of War. So this evening after dinner, partly Just Because and partly to pull myself out of an all-day grumpy mood, I baked. And now, because it's seasonal and I have to stay up to take stuff out of the oven, I'm going to share with you!

Things I made:

Eggnog Cookies )

Chocolate Meringue Puffs )

And! As a bonus, and because I made the batter tonight to save time tomorrow morning: Easy Crepe Recipe )

So, there's some tasty goodness for you to try maybe! I know I've been gloomy and angsty, but let's all have some holiday cheer eh? Happy Holidays, flist! <3


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