these things could be connected...
I am currently in love with Murder, She Wrote. The stories, the intrepidity, the guest stars (right now: Lauren Tewes and the priest from MASH). Not to mention the possibility, the very real possibility, that Angela Lansbury will bust out with a song from Mame. It doesn't get any better than this (especially now that I've seen all the Divorce Court episodes).
Do you think that I'm prematurely aging, and that's why I'm getting shorter?
Artful Scheme of Happiness
Thursday, January 30, 2003
Wednesday, January 29, 2003
I'm melting, I'm melting!
Today I measured my height because it was remarked that I seemed shorter than usual. Somewhere along the way it seems I have lost a full inch in height. I don't know when it was misplaced, but you can imagine my utter shock and dismay. Does this mean that I am sliding backwards down the evolutionary ladder? That my new petite frame will merit less respect in our height-conscious society? That dairy farmers were right all along and I don't drink enough milk?
OH MY G*D!!!
Today I measured my height because it was remarked that I seemed shorter than usual. Somewhere along the way it seems I have lost a full inch in height. I don't know when it was misplaced, but you can imagine my utter shock and dismay. Does this mean that I am sliding backwards down the evolutionary ladder? That my new petite frame will merit less respect in our height-conscious society? That dairy farmers were right all along and I don't drink enough milk?
OH MY G*D!!!
Tuesday, January 28, 2003
Legally Blond
Who here thinks that for my LLM application to NYU, I should videotape myself in a bikini just like Elle Woods?
Who here thinks that for my LLM application to NYU, I should videotape myself in a bikini just like Elle Woods?
Monday, January 27, 2003
Pick-me-up
Pointers for the lovestruck, a public service:
DO tell the person you are hitting on that he is gorgeous. DO NOT tell him that he is gorgeous more than three times in one half-hour. DO NOT say, "But I bet you hear that all the time" unless you want to hear an unimpressed "Yes, I do." NEVER try to get his friends to agree with you on his beauty; they couldn't care less and are unlikely to be supportive of your cause. NEVER EVER try to get him to make out with you while he, a 32-year old man, is standing in a group of his friends in a bar. And NEVER EVER EVER pinch that man's cheeks and tell him how cute he is. You are not his grandmother (though you are his grandmother's height).
Brought to you by the letter "G" and the number "12."
Pointers for the lovestruck, a public service:
DO tell the person you are hitting on that he is gorgeous. DO NOT tell him that he is gorgeous more than three times in one half-hour. DO NOT say, "But I bet you hear that all the time" unless you want to hear an unimpressed "Yes, I do." NEVER try to get his friends to agree with you on his beauty; they couldn't care less and are unlikely to be supportive of your cause. NEVER EVER try to get him to make out with you while he, a 32-year old man, is standing in a group of his friends in a bar. And NEVER EVER EVER pinch that man's cheeks and tell him how cute he is. You are not his grandmother (though you are his grandmother's height).
Brought to you by the letter "G" and the number "12."
Thursday, January 23, 2003
Seeing RED
You know all the hard work I've put in to help paint the kitchen? The hours of washing greasy walls, the hours of painting? Well, yesterday I walked into the kitchen and found out that my roommate decided to remove all the old wallpaper from the walls. Which means he removed all the new paint with it. Because the wallpaper overlaps in an odd and unattractive manner. But he couldn't have decided that BEFORE I wasted all that time. OH NO. NOOOOO.
I'm really motivated to bake him that elaborate birthday cake today. Right.
You know all the hard work I've put in to help paint the kitchen? The hours of washing greasy walls, the hours of painting? Well, yesterday I walked into the kitchen and found out that my roommate decided to remove all the old wallpaper from the walls. Which means he removed all the new paint with it. Because the wallpaper overlaps in an odd and unattractive manner. But he couldn't have decided that BEFORE I wasted all that time. OH NO. NOOOOO.
I'm really motivated to bake him that elaborate birthday cake today. Right.
Wednesday, January 22, 2003
And another thing...
Someone on television yesterday was talking about how people don't cook any more, they only assemble. I would just like to point out that I cook almost every meal I eat. From scratch. Scalloped potatoes with ham? I slice the potatoes by hand. Risotto? I stand over that pot for the full fifty minutes, stirring constantly. Cheesecake? I make it ALL from scratch, including the lemon curd. Just about the only thing I DON'T make from scratch is Ramen Noodles.
So don't go around telling people that I assemble, because you're going to get one seriously pissed off 'mo with WAY TOO MUCH TIME ON HIS HANDS coming after you. And after I bake you a cake, I'll scratch your eyes out.
*pop POP*
Someone on television yesterday was talking about how people don't cook any more, they only assemble. I would just like to point out that I cook almost every meal I eat. From scratch. Scalloped potatoes with ham? I slice the potatoes by hand. Risotto? I stand over that pot for the full fifty minutes, stirring constantly. Cheesecake? I make it ALL from scratch, including the lemon curd. Just about the only thing I DON'T make from scratch is Ramen Noodles.
So don't go around telling people that I assemble, because you're going to get one seriously pissed off 'mo with WAY TOO MUCH TIME ON HIS HANDS coming after you. And after I bake you a cake, I'll scratch your eyes out.
*pop POP*
Fairy Godmother
Tomorrow is my housemate's birthday, and my job is to make a pound cake. The only marginally interesting recipe I can find is from Martha Stewart, so we'll be having French Pound Cake with Grand Marnier Buttercream Frosting. (Rose Levy Beranbaum, where are you with your Cake Bible when I need you? I don't want to cheat on you with Martha!)
There's only one problem. Our kitchen is a disaster. No room to walk, much less to cook! Nothing has been finished, we're still missing walls, and the ten coats of paint I've slathered on the walls are nowhere near enough. So how am I supposed to work my magic in this environment?
Oh, the pressure.
Tomorrow is my housemate's birthday, and my job is to make a pound cake. The only marginally interesting recipe I can find is from Martha Stewart, so we'll be having French Pound Cake with Grand Marnier Buttercream Frosting. (Rose Levy Beranbaum, where are you with your Cake Bible when I need you? I don't want to cheat on you with Martha!)
There's only one problem. Our kitchen is a disaster. No room to walk, much less to cook! Nothing has been finished, we're still missing walls, and the ten coats of paint I've slathered on the walls are nowhere near enough. So how am I supposed to work my magic in this environment?
Oh, the pressure.
Monday, January 20, 2003
Murder on the dance floor
Visions of red rooms danced in my head ... actually GETTING one has proved to be impossible. Today I believe it was suggested (by me) that we light the house on fire and move somewhere else to start over. Because the simple "let's paint the kitchen" project has turned into a never-ending home renovation project from HELL. Two walls have been entirely removed. An old (and egregiously ugly) chimney has been exposed, "to add character." (Have you ever noticed how "character" usually equals "ugly?") The color on the walls will not even out, no matter how many coats I apply. (I'm at six coats ... and there's no end in sight.) I am just this close to postal.
Does anyone out there need a new roommate? I'm very quiet, relatively clean, and an excellent cook. I'm also kind of a bitch, but if you don't come barging into my room each night after I've fallen asleep or leave food out in the kitchen for weeks, you probably won't run afoul of my sharp tongue. My only requirement: you must NOT be renovating your house.
Seriously.
Visions of red rooms danced in my head ... actually GETTING one has proved to be impossible. Today I believe it was suggested (by me) that we light the house on fire and move somewhere else to start over. Because the simple "let's paint the kitchen" project has turned into a never-ending home renovation project from HELL. Two walls have been entirely removed. An old (and egregiously ugly) chimney has been exposed, "to add character." (Have you ever noticed how "character" usually equals "ugly?") The color on the walls will not even out, no matter how many coats I apply. (I'm at six coats ... and there's no end in sight.) I am just this close to postal.
Does anyone out there need a new roommate? I'm very quiet, relatively clean, and an excellent cook. I'm also kind of a bitch, but if you don't come barging into my room each night after I've fallen asleep or leave food out in the kitchen for weeks, you probably won't run afoul of my sharp tongue. My only requirement: you must NOT be renovating your house.
Seriously.
Saturday, January 18, 2003
Red Room, Red Room!
After this weekend, I will have a red room of my very own. One of my most beloved friends had a red room when we were growing up. It was an eery bedroom, and I just know that it was the scene of hundreds of grisly murders. I sort of hope that there won't be any murders in my new red kitchen. Depends on how testy I get during the painting process, I suppose.
After this weekend, I will have a red room of my very own. One of my most beloved friends had a red room when we were growing up. It was an eery bedroom, and I just know that it was the scene of hundreds of grisly murders. I sort of hope that there won't be any murders in my new red kitchen. Depends on how testy I get during the painting process, I suppose.
Thursday, January 16, 2003
Il parait que je suis WHITE TRASH
My roommate has a friend who works for Martha Stewart's magazine ("Achtung, straighten up your desk!"), and she asked him to send her a recipe to use in their "reader's recipes" section. I know, I know, you're thinking, 'will one of the steps be to let the ingredients sit in the corner on the floor of the kitchen for weeks before they're used?' That ran through my head too. But actually he's quite a good cook, and there is little to no concern about disease if I know that I have washed all the requisite pots and pans, and heralded the food into the refrigerator at the appropriate time.
But I digress. This morning he submitted his recipe for vichyssoise. I begged and begged him to please just send in Martha's own recipe for vichyssoise (the one from her cookbook) -- you know, to see if they check these things -- but he didn't think that would be appropriate. I even offered him a dollar, but no go. So I read his recipe for vichyssoise. And you know what? It turns out that I've been making vichyssoise for years. Only I call it potato soup, and I serve it warm.
I am fancy.
My roommate has a friend who works for Martha Stewart's magazine ("Achtung, straighten up your desk!"), and she asked him to send her a recipe to use in their "reader's recipes" section. I know, I know, you're thinking, 'will one of the steps be to let the ingredients sit in the corner on the floor of the kitchen for weeks before they're used?' That ran through my head too. But actually he's quite a good cook, and there is little to no concern about disease if I know that I have washed all the requisite pots and pans, and heralded the food into the refrigerator at the appropriate time.
But I digress. This morning he submitted his recipe for vichyssoise. I begged and begged him to please just send in Martha's own recipe for vichyssoise (the one from her cookbook) -- you know, to see if they check these things -- but he didn't think that would be appropriate. I even offered him a dollar, but no go. So I read his recipe for vichyssoise. And you know what? It turns out that I've been making vichyssoise for years. Only I call it potato soup, and I serve it warm.
I am fancy.
Wednesday, January 15, 2003
WHAT A DUMP!
I was all excited this morning because I thought I might be changing the look of artful scheme. You know, pick a new template, spruce up a few things. That sort of stuff. You know my motto: if you don't have anything interesting to say, you should at least try and look good.
But then I looked at the template choices and I was underwhelmed. I briefly considered choosing the kitty template (it's identical to this puppy template, except that it's pink and it has kitties scampering gleefully down the side), but I figured that my sister would walk to Seattle and rip my head off with her bare hands if I did that. (I may still, just to cheese her off. But not right now. Because I'm charitable and kind.) So we're sticking with the puppies until I inherit millions and can hire a professional designer to design me my own template ... I'm seeing flowers and a lot of lace. Maybe a picture of me in my rocking chair.
Confidential to sickly people everywhere: include me in your will.
I was all excited this morning because I thought I might be changing the look of artful scheme. You know, pick a new template, spruce up a few things. That sort of stuff. You know my motto: if you don't have anything interesting to say, you should at least try and look good.
But then I looked at the template choices and I was underwhelmed. I briefly considered choosing the kitty template (it's identical to this puppy template, except that it's pink and it has kitties scampering gleefully down the side), but I figured that my sister would walk to Seattle and rip my head off with her bare hands if I did that. (I may still, just to cheese her off. But not right now. Because I'm charitable and kind.) So we're sticking with the puppies until I inherit millions and can hire a professional designer to design me my own template ... I'm seeing flowers and a lot of lace. Maybe a picture of me in my rocking chair.
Confidential to sickly people everywhere: include me in your will.
Tuesday, January 14, 2003
Monday, January 13, 2003
Who has my back?
Is there anyone else out there who thinks that Fanny Price has got to be mildly retarded?
Is there anyone else out there who thinks that Fanny Price has got to be mildly retarded?
Friday, January 10, 2003
Dancing with cataracts
The lightbulb in my reading lamp blew out yesterday, and since it's one of those fancy round lightbulbs (show lightbulbs -- the kind you just don't keep replacements around for), I had to make a mad dash through the rainy night to the local Fred Meyer (think Shopko, without the brown and orange, and also without the scientifically-proven Shopko response).
You know when you were a kid, how you used to think it was funny to squeak your wet tennis shoes along the linoleum floor of the discount store? Well, when you're over thirty and your shoes squeak loudly with every single step you take, all the way to the back corner of the basement of a colossal Fred Meyer, it's not so much fun. People stare, salespeople accost you. I think a child may even have cried.
I was so traumatized by the event that I had to come home and eat four Zingers (four frosted Twinkies, that is), just to calm down. All because Freddie didn't have the foresight to put a MAT at the entrance to his store.
The lightbulb in my reading lamp blew out yesterday, and since it's one of those fancy round lightbulbs (show lightbulbs -- the kind you just don't keep replacements around for), I had to make a mad dash through the rainy night to the local Fred Meyer (think Shopko, without the brown and orange, and also without the scientifically-proven Shopko response).
You know when you were a kid, how you used to think it was funny to squeak your wet tennis shoes along the linoleum floor of the discount store? Well, when you're over thirty and your shoes squeak loudly with every single step you take, all the way to the back corner of the basement of a colossal Fred Meyer, it's not so much fun. People stare, salespeople accost you. I think a child may even have cried.
I was so traumatized by the event that I had to come home and eat four Zingers (four frosted Twinkies, that is), just to calm down. All because Freddie didn't have the foresight to put a MAT at the entrance to his store.
Hand to God
Kitty Mews-A-Lot just said Hello to me. I swear on my sainted mother's life. Next thing you know, he'll be walking upright down the street with a top hat and monocle, greeting his fellow pedestrians.
You leave for three weeks and cats learn to talk. There's a life lesson in there, if you care to look for it.
Kitty Mews-A-Lot just said Hello to me. I swear on my sainted mother's life. Next thing you know, he'll be walking upright down the street with a top hat and monocle, greeting his fellow pedestrians.
You leave for three weeks and cats learn to talk. There's a life lesson in there, if you care to look for it.
What the hell, over?
Yeah, I don't know when the gaybobs at Hostess bought out poor Dolly Madison's snack business, but the fact that they did has me all fired up with righteous indignation. And not only because the good people at Dolly Madison spent so many years sponsoring the Charlie Brown holiday specials. You want to know what they did over there at Hostess? They turned the once mighty Zinger into a Twinkie with frosting. Is there anything more wrong than that?
Yeah, I don't know when the gaybobs at Hostess bought out poor Dolly Madison's snack business, but the fact that they did has me all fired up with righteous indignation. And not only because the good people at Dolly Madison spent so many years sponsoring the Charlie Brown holiday specials. You want to know what they did over there at Hostess? They turned the once mighty Zinger into a Twinkie with frosting. Is there anything more wrong than that?
Thursday, January 09, 2003
Travel Corner, by Jim
If you are going to be flying somewhere, MAKE SURE that you wear a watch on the airplane. Because otherwise it will seem like your 3.5 hour flight from Minneapolis to Seattle has stretched into a 3.5 year pilgrimage to the Holy Land. I can't be absolutely sure about this, but I think that the pilot on last night's flight may have gotten lost. I'd be willing to bet that he circled around Rosendale, just trying to get his bearings. I don't even know what year it is any more.
Two tiny bags of yucky pretzels did nothing to make the flight go any faster. Can't they lace those mofos with a little opium?
Oh, and one more thing. If you are a woman flying with your bratty two-year old daughter and a screaming newborn, three big jackets, one large diaper bag, one baby seat, and one tiny backpack, it MIGHT behoove you to check your incredibly large "carry-on" suitcase. Next time, you might NOT encounter a very helpful (and very handsome -- I mean, come on) stranger who will help you lug various and sundry belongings to your assigned seat.
When exiting the aircraft, please take all children firmly by the neck....
If you are going to be flying somewhere, MAKE SURE that you wear a watch on the airplane. Because otherwise it will seem like your 3.5 hour flight from Minneapolis to Seattle has stretched into a 3.5 year pilgrimage to the Holy Land. I can't be absolutely sure about this, but I think that the pilot on last night's flight may have gotten lost. I'd be willing to bet that he circled around Rosendale, just trying to get his bearings. I don't even know what year it is any more.
Two tiny bags of yucky pretzels did nothing to make the flight go any faster. Can't they lace those mofos with a little opium?
Oh, and one more thing. If you are a woman flying with your bratty two-year old daughter and a screaming newborn, three big jackets, one large diaper bag, one baby seat, and one tiny backpack, it MIGHT behoove you to check your incredibly large "carry-on" suitcase. Next time, you might NOT encounter a very helpful (and very handsome -- I mean, come on) stranger who will help you lug various and sundry belongings to your assigned seat.
When exiting the aircraft, please take all children firmly by the neck....
Tuesday, January 07, 2003
Cat Scratch Fever
I never thought I'd be able to say it, but here goes: I miss little Kitty Mews-a-lot waking me up at the crack of dawn each morning. I think it's time for me to go home. (Luckily for me, I go home tomorrow.)
I never thought I'd be able to say it, but here goes: I miss little Kitty Mews-a-lot waking me up at the crack of dawn each morning. I think it's time for me to go home. (Luckily for me, I go home tomorrow.)
Monday, January 06, 2003
Services not required
Dear "Horny Rich Girl,"
this is to inform you that I will not be requiring the services which you have so kindly (and so repeatedly) offered. Please refrain from sending me any further e-mails regarding your talents.
Sincerely,
Artful Scheme
PS Why would I care if you were rich? Would we have made sweet, sweet love on top of a pile of your money?
Dear "Horny Rich Girl,"
this is to inform you that I will not be requiring the services which you have so kindly (and so repeatedly) offered. Please refrain from sending me any further e-mails regarding your talents.
Sincerely,
Artful Scheme
PS Why would I care if you were rich? Would we have made sweet, sweet love on top of a pile of your money?
Sunday, January 05, 2003
It's not my fault
I went to my first Packers game yesterday (and had a great time, btw). Contrary to what some have said, it was NOT my fault that the Packers lost. I was in there, cheering just as hard as (perhaps even harder than) the regular (i.e. interested in football) fans.
Boom in next year, Shelley!
I went to my first Packers game yesterday (and had a great time, btw). Contrary to what some have said, it was NOT my fault that the Packers lost. I was in there, cheering just as hard as (perhaps even harder than) the regular (i.e. interested in football) fans.
Boom in next year, Shelley!
ma vie en rose
About Me
- Name: art
- Location: U.S. Outlying Islands
seriously, who advertises himself in this space? I am alternately loveable and cranky. Right now I guess we go with cranky.
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