stargazer - small box. At least that’s what I’ve always used. I suppose a big box would give you lots of pudding-y goodness, but if the cake mix also has pudding in it, I think you’d wind up with a mess. So be safe and go fo a small box. Or divide the contents of the big box in half, and make the remaining half into pudding, which can be used in a flirtatious environment, or flung at annoying people, or eaten on its own. I’ve heard of kindergarten teachers using pudding as edible finger paint, but that just sounds disgusting. Who’s going to hang a picture or dried out pudding on the refrigerator? You get enough of that from messy kid-fingers.
And to answer your other question - don’t flirt with welby - it’ll give him an ego and that way lies madness. Besides, it’s more fun to poke at him with a pointy stick. It’s gotta be a long pointy stick, tho - you don’t want to get too close to him when he’s been poked. Same goes for Ex, and swampy, and even Rue - men get all whiny when you poke them with pointy sticks. Maybe you should just throw pudding.
You’ve got to be careful, stargazer, you’re female and you’re posting in here. Pretty soon Rue will have a petname for you and people will be casting unseemly glances and tying knots with their eyebrows. Next thing you know you’ll be one of the cool kids and writing stream of conciousness posts about really mundane things and posting links to your bellydancing photos (we hope).
It’s a very slippery slope. Which is jake, but I’m just saying.
Flour tortillas. There’s a recipe in Jeffrey Steingarten’s new book, It Must Have Been Something I Ate, and I felt strangely compelled to try it. There were very good- much better than store-bought ones. I don’t, however, think they were good enough to make them often, since they involve two and a half straight hours of work.
I spent ysterday getting m least friendly girlfriend make-uped at the MAC counter. She hated it. Her wedding is gonna be really interesting.
Also, I almost talked my most easy-to-persuade friend into buying an ice cream maker. I think she ought to get one so I can use it.
Poor Ex. Do you think he feels left out by all the flirting? Hey! Doesn’t he instigate flirting? Why’s he do that if he doesn’t like it? Dork. He’s just sore because welby’s got Wintermute.
Ignore Exgineer, he’s just bitter because he thought he was in good with the MMP women and I’ve taken them all and made them mine. Except for Fairy Chat Mom. She’s Rue’s.
Wintermute, everyone knows my mind makes the filthiest of gutters look clean enough to eat a meal in. I’m lying, trying to keep up appearances. I’m a sick pervert. Truly.
I’m not as sick as Exgineer, though. Ask him about his experience with skunk scent glands and whipped cream.
Sure thing bay-bee. It’s all you bring these things to that level. Uh-huh. Nothing like that ever happened before you joined the crew.
So I’d thank you very much to just clean up your act. Or link more pictures. Either way.
And just what happened around here? I turn my back for two minutes and this is what I come back to. But you knew I’d be back didn’t you? I just can’t stay away.
Watch the wimmins-claiming welbs. You never know when there’s a line about you might just cross. That’s all I’m saying.
-Rue. (the cat)
Two and half hours!! :eek: Good thing you told me, because I was thinking, “Hey, how hard can it be? Maybe I’ll give it a shot.” Now? No way in hell. Store-bought is plenty good enough for me.
Your friend definitely needs an ice cream maker. Tell her I said so.
Well, just remember that I went to a conservative Christian bible school, so the parameters by which I was judged are perhaps (just maybe) a little narrow. I mean, thinking for yourself? That can’t be good! So maybe I’m not as evil as all that.
But I will try very hard to be a good girl, since I don’t have any pictures that I would be comfortable posting. This is a PG-rated board, after all. (Too bad I don’t have a website, huh?)
On the other hand, if you think I deserve punishment, well…
Well, you have to cook them individually, unless you have an enormous cast-iron griddle, which I don’t. The dough is actually pretty easy.
I once spent six hours* making Chinese dumplings. I was avoiding studying for an Art exam, and boy, it worked. And it was fine, since (on the visual identification part) the Art professor showed us images we hadn’t seen before and asked us to identify them. He was a good professor, he just vastly overrated us.
Why did it take you six hours. Mrs. ShibbOleth and Ms. A sometimes do this, they make a ton, and it only takes them an hour or two, tops. Do you actually make the wrappers by hand, or do you buy the dumpling wrappers at the Chinese Grocery? We do the latter, but even doing the former I can’t imagine it taking 6 hours. Unless you made all the wrappers by hand, stuffed/folder/pinched them, and COOKED them all. Plus the eating would be a lot of work, I’d suppose. And afterwards you’d be thirsty from the sauce, so you’d have to drink a lot of beer.
Ahh, it’s like pancakes. I don’t have a griddle or electric skillet, so I can only do one or two at a time and it takes forever. Since I have the attention span of a two-year-old, I cook everything on high and end up burning at least the first and last batches. Anyway, the local diner or IHOP makes much better pancakes than I do, so if I want pancakes, I just go out for them. (Notice a trend? Too much work to make = I don’t bother :))
Mmm, pancakes. I wonder what we’re doing this weekend. Maybe I can twist my sister’s arm into going to IHOP (not that it would take much twisting).
OK fine! They’re all mine! Bwa! Hahahahaha! Snickers? Mine! Puddin’? Mine! dwyr? Mine! Ellen Cherry? Mine! Knjust too hotkers? Mine!
Princess Lissla? Mine!
Mama tanookie? Mine! Brynda? Mine!
(Do you see a trend here?)
But I’ll tell you what. I’ll throw you a bone. You can keep Wintermute as long as she’ll have you. And Ex can keep Angel Pants if he wants.
-Rue. (toying with stargazer)
I just can not express how deeply wounded I am by this, Rue. Any self-esteem I might have gathered has been swept away like chaff in the wind. I must retire to a dark room to reconsider my life and its value. ::sniff:: No, don’t try to comfort me. I’m not worth it. ::wipes tear away::
And yet, at the same time, I am also highly offended. Throw him a bone? Throw him a bone!!! I am speechless. Just…speechless. I don’t even know where to begin to respond to that. ::walks away shaking head in astonished disbelief::
No, Rue, my sweet, you can’t claim me because I already claimed you. Repeatedly. See - I wrote our names together in my notebook and drew a heart around them. That means we’re joined forever in a bond that cannot be broken. Unless you tick me off or someone comes along with a better offer, but I can’t imagine what’s better than you!! I’d claim Ex too, because he amuses me, but then I’d have swampy - no wait - he’s got a pool and he bought me dinner. OK, that works. I claim Rue first and foremost, with Ex and swampy as my auxiliaries. welby will be backup when he finally realizes that I’m more worthy of his attentions than any of the wimmins around here because I am, after all, me.
Any self-esteem I might have gathered has been swept away like chaff in the wind. I must retire to a dark room to reconsider my life and its value. ::sniff:: No, don’t try to comfort me. I’m not worth it. ::wipes tear away::