Making Fun of Stephen King.

After listening to approximately six hours worth of Stephen King's short stories on audio tape on a road trip to and from Peoria, llinois, at the beginning of the month, and after adding another two hours worth of a novella that Tad and I turn on sporadically as we commute to and from work every day and also as we go about our business during the evening, I've developed a certain disdain for his minute detail, excessive use of commas and inability to create dialog that is in any way believable, unless, of course you live in a world in which every living person precedes or confirms their thoughts with lengthy descriptions, explanations and backgrounds, like a teenager, trying to convince his overly-skeptical father that it was necessary to leave his bedroom light on the night before, not because he had sneaked out, forgetting to turn it off, but because he needed it to sleep.

In short, I'd like to know how many words can Stephen King cram into one sentence?

The answer: We're still counting.

*Yes, I am prepared to receive hate comments from S. King fans.
**Yes, I realize my simile was terrible and not nearly as creative as the time S. King described the popping sound in someone's knees as "twin pistol shots".
***Yes, I am fully aware that my entire sentence is wretched and possibly full of errors.
****My sentence is 155 words long.
*****No, I do not believe this is an accurate portrayal of S. King. Truth be told, he is much worse.

Lemmies and other Lemon Deliciousness

(Aha! Those be not eggs! Those be Lemmies!!)

Life has been busy, and though I wish I had something really impressive to show for it all I have are these desserts. Because when life hands you lemons, don't you dare write blog posts or do the laundry or work on selling your car. Why, you should make lemon pie instead! Or lemon cookies! Or lemon cake!

Last week I made simple Lemon Poppy Seed Pie and tonight I made Lemon Dimples. Or, as I like to call them, Lemmies. The first was a recipe I got out of a cookbook. The second was a recipe I stumbled upon here.


On Wednesday, for Thanksgiving, I plan to make a Triple-Layer Lemon Cake. No box mixes. No shortcuts. Everything real from the lemon zest to the lemon juice to the lemon curd. Well, maybe not the lemon curd. I plan to cheat on that. If all goes well, I'll make it again for Tad's birthday in January.

Yes, I realize I'm stuck in a lemon rut. But this is how it goes and there's no getting around it; there's only eating through it. So, that's what we'll do.

(This was the recipe that called for condensed milk--my arch nemesis)

And eventually, I'll get around to some blog posts of substance.

Words (w-o-R-d-s)

greatful.

judgement.

acknowliging.

In elementary school I was a star speller. Had I gone to public/private school, my workbook would have been full of gold stars. -ible, -able, -ant, -ent. There was no match for my ability. And not only was I precise, I was fast. L i g h t n i n g f a s t. So fast I swear my mother made me repeat myself a few times. e-x-p-e-d-i-t-i-o-u-s. What was that? h-y-p-e-r-s-o-n-i-c.

Part of it was because I was an avid reader. A Nancy Drew book, put away in three hours. An American Girl book in an hour and half. This, of course, in between Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, Alcott's Little Women, and Streatfield's Ballet Shoes. I was insatiable. v-o-r-a-c-i-o-u-s.

The other part was because I was obsessive compulsive. Every word I saw on every sign, every commericial, every brochure, every flyer, I felt compelled to spell. Forced. o-b-l-i-g-e-d. This lasted for a good year or two, and got to the point where I could be heard whispering to myself in rapid tongue, letter after letter after letter. I soon began dividing words in half, finding the middle letter and counting the total number of letters it held.

Scary, I know.

And then, years later, we got a computer. And I met Spell Check. And I love Spell Check. No more dictionaries or asking for help. No more testing out the word on paper to see if it looks right. No more having to know how to spell.

And now . . . my words look like this:

greatful.

judgement.

acknowliging.

Here's an Idea!

I am convinced that there should be warning labels on certain food items. Imagine how helpful it would be to know:

WARNING (ACHTUNG!): SWEETENED CONDENSED MILK IS NOT RUNNY. IT IS GLOOPY. GLOOPY, GLOOPY, GLOOPY. ALL PRECONCEIVED NOTIONS THAT THE SUBSTANCE WILL PERFORM AS MILK DOES SHOULD BE DISREGARDED.
POSSIBLE SIDE EFFECTS FROM SMELLING SWEETENED CONDENSED MILK INCLUDE BUT ARE NOT LIMITED TO A LOSS OF APPETITE, CONSTANT GAGGING, THOUGHTS OF PROJECT ABORTION, A FEAR OF DIRECT CONTACT WITH THE SUBSTANCE, AND A COMPLETE INABILITY TO ENJOY THE FINAL PRODUCT.

Knowing these things would have helped immensely. We can only hope to stomach the Lemon Poppyseed Pie.

Pearl Slam

This is the most awkward thing. Nothing could be more awkward. In all awkwardness, this wins hands down.

Notice how awkwardly the lead singer of Pearl Jam attempts a rock star jump (around the :02, :03 mark). Notice the stiffness. Notice how he gets about 6 inches from the ground. Notice how he could jump twenty times and he still wouldn't have enough air time to fill a whole second.

It's so awkward, I feel my face flush every time. I feel my heart, hoping that maybe he won't do it. He won't jump his awkward old-man-trying-to-be-a-rock-star way. But then he does. And it's so awkward.

I think his children should say something. Something like, "Dad? All our friends are talking about your Target commercial and how you only got a fifth of a second of air time and how maybe you shouldn't try to jump anymore...and well, dad, I was thinking about it and I think you know you're rock star jump days are over when you're more worried about whether your landing will result in a broken hip than whether you're actually getting any air. I'm just sayin', Dad...."




And don't even get me started on his circa 1994 wardrobe. Come on. You're a rock star. Where's the rock clothes? Oh, I'm sorry I forgot. Your rock star clothes are probably out with your rock star jump.

We Don't Need No Education

With Thanksgiving right around the corner, I was reminded of various crafts that you are forced to create as a child in order to reflect the season. A cornucopia made out of a construction paper cone, a cornucopia made from a paper plate, a cornucopia colored with crayons....

And yet how important have cornucopias been in my Thanksgiving festivities? How prevalent in holiday decor? Table settings? Memories?

Cornucopias are nothing. Nada. No one cares about them. They're void of this world, appearing only in Target's dollar deal aisle and coloring books.

And that is why I include The Lie of the Cornucopia within a compelling list of lies told us by textbooks, teachers and the educational system. It is the worlds biggest letdown list, and the top 5 are below:

The Top 5 Lies I Learned in Grade School

1) Animals hibernate during winter. I will never forget the moment I realized that 1) it was winter, 2) there was snow on the ground, and 3) squirrels were NOT sleeping. They were scurrying. It was at this point I realized that hibernation is not a winter-long sleepfest, but rather an off and on slumber party. Tisk Tisk.
2) Birds fly south for the winter. Upon realizing that animals do NOT hibernate all winter long, I turned my attention to birds and found many of them to be tweeting and cawing well into winter. Thus, disproving the teacher lie that all birds migrate south for the winter.
3) Columbus discovered America. It is common knowledge by middle school that Columbus didn't actually discover America as much as he discovered the Americas, so why lead little children to believe as such? Why not stress the difference between the two?
4) Benjamin Franklin discovered electricity. He did not discover electricity. He found it to exist within lightning. His result was not a light bulb or a spark. It was a lightning rod. This means nothing to children. So, instead of the classic (and potentially dangerous) key and a kite story, teacher should instead speak of Edison 10,000th try. Much more inspiring.
5) Everything ever said in math class. Once out of elementary school, it seems everything you ever knew to be true concerning numbers has a condition. Even the number 'zero'. You think it's the smallest number possible, right? WRONG! There are in fact an infinite number of smaller numbers, provided they are proceeded by a negative sign.

Bottom line: Though it may sound cool in the classroom, make for an interesting lesson plan and translate well into a handy craft project, teachers should ask themselves, one ultimate question:

Is it worth it?

Case Update: Modern Warfare 2

Last night on Unsolved Mysteries, we reported events surrounding Tad's strange departure and plans to acquire a video game. Since, more events have unfolded, adding to the mysterious happenings surrounding this seemingly hypnotic game.

1) Tad has been able to operate on two hours worth of sleep.
2) He has already developed pet phrases for the game's features, referring to the blood spatter that appears on the screen when the player is wounded as "Ketchup Face"--a term he devised in an attempt to trump his wife's inevitable mockery of the feature (she refers to the old wounded screen as "bloody eyeballs")

Yet in all this, a few of the mysteries surrounding the case have been answered. Why did he dress in camo? Why did he stand in line for so long? Why was it imperative for him to be there at precisely the time the game was released?

I'll be darned if I know, but it all resulted in him 'winning' GameStop's Modern Warfare 2 countdown clock due to the fact that he was the ONLY person dressed in costume.