Snickerdoodles are the best cookie ever, but they should have fewer steps to make them. (Or I could be a less lazy baker). Just so you know; Pepperidge Farms snickerdoodles are awful if you’re expecting real snickerdoodley snickerdoodles, IMHO. I may try that potato chip cookie recipe I found, this weekend. How can you *not * try making potato chip cookies?
How did I miss MagicEyes’ request for the tale of the killer WalMart? Okay-- it was a dark but not stormy night and work on the Super WalMart was about to get started. The poor soon-to-be-dead guy was out on an unlit, four lane road that has a 65 mph limit, even though it goes through a residential area. What everybody figures is he thought the road had already been blocked off for construction, or tried to dash across and didn’t make it. A big ol’ truck smashed him up but good because the driver never saw him-- he was wearing dark clothes and no reflective stuff.
So imagine that; the Super WalMart has killed a guy (well, sorta) even though it’s not even totally built yet. With that sort of precocious eviltude, I shudder to think how many people will be lured to their grizly deaths when it’s full-grown. We already know those things suck out your soul and disconnect your brain, now they’re out for blood.
I need to complain about things and my cats appear not to understand my words (I think maybe they’re actually French, which would explain a lot). So if you’ve had your daily dose of vitriol, you probably should skip this next part.
Work sucked super extra much today. I’m sorry Sirs; we can’t be your cockamamie idea of perfect, in everything, every time, for everyone. Especially when you all are giving conflicting directives. We also do not possess the ability to stretch time, so you need to get real about the deadlines for all those damned mountains of work, you schmucks. We would have the time to get closer to perfect if you’d do your own damned work instead of farming it out to the teachers. While you’re at it; try telling us what you *actually * want, instead of making us guess. Sweet jeebus; from 7 am to 3 pm I didn’t have time for a single bathroom break, and lately that’s happening more days than it’s not.
You might also try finding ways to help us, instead of deliberately conjuring stuff you know will make it all *more * difficult. Hypocritical, lying bastards: right after you bite me, you can take your nasty-grams and shove them where the sun don’t shine. They honestly don’t understand why we aren’t just chomping at the bit to work ourselves to death for them. Maybe if we could vote ourselves raises, and hire all our friends to do most of our work for us, like you do, we’d be more amenable. Cutting our insurance and refusing our requests for the COLA the state gave you (for the past three years) isn’t helping, either. Like I said; bastards, unmitigated variety.
Phew, I feel a bit better now.
So where’s Rue? It feels like it’s time for him to pop in. Pop Rue, pop!
I’m not sure really. KeithT had them and I don’t know where he got them. Not Penzy’s because the bottle didn’t match any of his other spice bottles, all of which are from Penzy’s. I think they might have been from an Asian market because I seem to remember some Chinese writing on the bottle. Maybe. Something like that. I was too busy concentrating on how good it all smelled to really pay attention. 
