Has anyone else read the Bloom County strip where they do testing on cats to find out the effects of rock music? They’ve got these two smug cats wearing earphones, and one’s listening to AC/DC, and the other’s listening to Barry Manilow.
Twenty-four hours later the AC/DC cat still looks smug, and the Manilow one is foaming and screeching “Worship Satan! Worship Satan!”
That’s what Rue’s story reminded me of, anyway.
Oatmeal Clafoutis, susan? I thought Clafoutis were always fruit based. What were they like?
I’m only posting 'cause I don’t want swampy to get mad and unleash his noxious powers in a westerly direction. But I really don’t have anything to say except that I’m going to proofread this about 80 times because I miss-spelled “pseudo” in some other thread and I’m still ticked off about it.
All we had, at least on the southern side of the Chesapeake Bay, was some rain and above freezing temperatures. So I would say that storm was still minding it’s manners when it left Georgia. Of course, things might have been different outside of the area. I couldn’t tell, because the weather girl was blocking all the other parts of the map with her freakishly misproportioned head.
Clafoutis looks like the spelling of the noise that may emanate from me after I each lunch.
S_F you better watch that chili-garlic sauce. It sounds like it could be bad. It sounds like it dropped out of high school and spends its days hanging around the fridge smokin’ Kools and hustling pool. If I were you I’d check it real close for homemade tattoos.
I’m lurking here. I was gonna wait until tonight to make my grand entrance into this week’s MMP 'cuz I got a great cookie fortune Saturday, but I left it on my desk at home.
Back to the OP: I’ve ben attacked on many occasions by the sticks of butter, for real. My old refrigerator had this funky butter compartment in the door, and it was positioned just right that when you opened the door, the shock and vibration was enough that the butter came flying out and landed on your foot.
I hated that refigerator. Glad I sold it with the house.
Dammit, I had a great post composed about how my fridge was an exclusive members only club in which only necessary food items were allowed. It told the sordid tale of the lettuce fraternizing with the Diet Barqs and all that.
By the end of the week, the place is as empty as a bar after closing time.
Except for that can of pineapples. That’s been loitering for weeks. Maybe I need a velvet rope around the fridge to keep out the riff-raff.
I’ll send the good thoughts right now. ding Chocolate will have to wait.
As for Clafoutis, since I’ve never had it before, or even heard of it, it may be that what I made does not follow the traditional Clafoutis. What do I know? What I do know is when I looked up Clafoutis on Google, the first two pages of links were in French. So Lis, you would know it more than me - what defines a Clafoutis to you?
My refrigerator and I have a deal–I let it have one airtight container of mystery something tucked in the back corner and it doesn’t let my milk go sour. I don’t know how, but twice I’ve had milk almost or even over a week past its due date that was safe to drink (passed the smell test, then the “tiny amount in the mouth directly in front of the sink in case you need to spit it out” test). Two different brands of milk as well. I really don’t want to know what they do to milk these days to keep it from going sour for so long, so I credit my fridge with the ability to preserve its milky goodness.
Of course, most of my appliances and quite of few of my possessions have magical abilities. Being an animist has its advantages.
Well, to my knowledge, nothing in my fridge has turned to the dark side, although I am very concerned about the broccoli’s ability to resist temptation and continue to walk the straight and narrow. Very little is worse than broccoli gone bad. The chicken was a little fresh with me, but I dumped most of a bottle of sesame-ginger marinade over it and it seems to have settled down.
As for this weekend, we didn’t really do anything. I spent too much money, because I was feeling restless and cooped up, so I took my sister and brother-in-law out to dinner twice and once to the movies. We went and saw *National Treasure * at the $4.00 theater in Easton because we hadn’t seen it when it was in wide release, and we could all agree on it.
I’ll agree that he’s a very polarizing person. He can get under my skin too. But he knows how to raise money. And I think the station is great, regardless of how opinionated its president is.
My fridge is it’s on little rebellious fiefdom. I keep pulling “bad” food out, but somehow, more just mysteriously appears. My fridge always appears full, but how much of the food is edible, is a matter of opinion.
Now you must all think I never empty my fridge, but I do, on a weekly basis! I am forced to when I do the grocery shopping. I put leftovers in the fridge, but they are rarely eaten. The only leftovers that never go bad are:
a) My homemade lasagne
b) Any homemade soup or chili I make
3) Primerib roast leftovers
4) My potato salad-well most of the time. Sometimes I just plain make too much.
Somehow the rest of the leftovers are neglected and never touched again, except to go into the sink disposal or the trash.
…and now for something completely different. My husband has turned me into a full-on gaming geek! :o I am so embarrassed. He has roped me into playing World of Warcraft with him (we have two copies). I have been playing so much, that I now have a level 29 (well just a butthair under) paladin character. We’ve even joined a guild! My poor house is being neglected! This game is worse than any drug. I need intervention now! Flog me! Do something!
Best of luck to Mr. Lissar on his job interview. I’m sending good vibes the Lissar way, but I don’t have any chocolate. Sorry.
He can get under my skin too. But he knows how to raise money. And I think the station is great, regardless of how opinionated its president is.