Monthly Archives: October 2010

There’s a lesson in here somewhere…

So, I got a puppy! Last April… Which I guess makes her more dog sized right now, but most certainly puppy brained, or possibly retarded. It’s hard to say. But either way, I love her dearly and she lights up my life!

yes, she is just THAT adorable!

Today she is lighting up my life at work! I don’t normally bring her in, I much prefer to ride my bike home at lunch, take her for a nice walk and eat apple cinnamon cheerios while watching half an episode of Boy Meets World. Yes, I am living the dream, people.  But today sadly, is different. Today’s dream includes my poor puppy being, well, sick as a dog.

Sprinkles (that’s what I call her, because that’s what I named her, though she’ll answer to PastaBatman, Wiggles, Sprunkles, or Jerkface) is a destructo dog. And by that I mean, she likes to chew things until they are no more. Most dogs just chew and destroy, leaving the majority of their victim behind. My sister’s dog is the same. Apparently though, a percentage of the chewed items are swallowed. In Sprinkles’s case that percentage would be 100. Now I’m not sure what makes plastic, rubber and towels so delicious, but clearly she sees something in those materials that others do not. In an effort to make sure the majority of her diet is dog food, rather than rubber, I buy her toys that are marked CAN NOT BE DESTROYED EVER, which for the most part is true. These toys are obviously less fun and more frustrating for her because she can’t ingest their tasty parts. Sucks to be you Sprinkles.

Unfortunately my sympathy got the better of my judgment, and three days ago I left her alone with a non non-destructable toy while I had a shower. This toy was a bright orange ball with green noblies all round it and a bell in the centre. It looks like a toy made for alien babies. Anyway, I figured she wouldn’t get very far in destroying it, but oh was I wrong. I came back and all of it was gone, except for a quarter-sized orange bit with a green nobly. She ate the bell too. Visions of the crocodile from Peter Pan, you know the one that swallowed the clock, danced in my head. Sigh.

A couple days went by and Sprinkles was fine, and didn’t ring, or ding-a-ling at all! I thought I was in the clear. That was until she got into the cat litter. Apparently her delicate stomach can handle toys, or cat litter, but not both. Anyway, I’ll save you from the gory details, but let’s just say I have been taking her outside every two hours so she can expel (from various ends of her body) many, many orange pieces of plastic, balls of cat hair, and whatever else made it into her sad, sad belly.

So come to work with me she has! Upon arrival I decided to build her a cozy fort out of Staples boxes, CD boxes and a towel! This fort will not only make her feel more at home, but keep her from joyously attacking my coworkers every time they move, or laugh, or breathe, or accidentally look at her. You see Sprinkles is kind of like a drunk desperate frat boy at last call. If you accidentally make eye contact, she’s making out with you, without even having the decencey to buy you a drink. And just like the frat boy, today she has the added bonus of dog barf breath. Which is charming and delightful!

She seems in good spirits though, so I think she’ll be just fine, in spite of my dumbass decision.

Yup, clearly, no more non non-destroyable toys for this one.

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Sugar sugar doo doo doo doo doo doo…

Just like most department stores, I have gotten ahead of myself and am in semi-full-on Christmas mode. Kinda. Mostly just in the way that I have started making dough for all the Christmas cookies I plan on gifting this holiday season. I have two in the freezer, and should have two more by nightfall. Yes, I am that insane. But when you bake seventy-kajillionity cookies, it’s handy to get a head start, regardless of the fact it’s not even Hallowe’en, that’s how stupidly ahead you are.

I am currently searching for an acceptable roll-out sugar cookie recipe to cinnamon up. I want to use one of my many many cookie cutters, and make a fabulous cinnamon-sandwich cookie-creation of electrifyingly colossal caliber. Basically, it’s gotta taste like everything you ever loved exploded in your mouth, with extra butter and sugar, but in a good way. So I’m browsing the interwebs, and I remembered that the Food Network website exists.

Fuck I love that website. And not for the reasons you’re thinking, no, but for the comments section. You see I live in a beautiful bubble. A bubble where people mostly aren’t idiots. And every now and then I like to burst this bubble by reading the comments that follow exceptionally delicious and simple recipes by superstar chefs. Now, I haven’t baked any of these cookies yet so I can’t personally vouch for them, but they are freaking sugar cookies. It’s not that complicated. They aren’t particularly exciting. Even my old roommate who only ate hot dogs and bags of Wonder bread (together, of course) can bake sugar cookies (shaped like Klingons!). So people, if he can do it, you all can. Also, if a recipe doesn’t work out, it’s probably your fault (though there are some sketchy recipes out there), but don’t get so freaking angry about it (like that time when I neglected adding any/all rising agents to my cake batter! Whoopsie-doodle!). There is so much unnecessary hate in this world, stop creating more because you probably just suck.

Here are some of my favs collected from Nigella’s and Alton Brown’s recipes (I’m leaning towards Alton’s myself, but I may veer completely off track and do a chewy sugar cookie instead, oh the decisions!):

 

Seriously, “until pale and moving towards moussiness”? “mix gently but surely”?
“tinged a pronounced gold around the edges”? Talk about trying TOO hard. It’s just a cookie recipe, and a poor one at that. Spend more time tasting what you recommend and less time with your thesaurus ‘Nigella’….(and I am sure your real name was like “Mary”.

This one is great because the author hates words more than the actual cookies.

 

The cookie was awful, it had no taste, I read the reviews prior to baking, I even added an additonal quarter cup sugar, used salted butter AND added an additonal 1/2 teaspoon vanilla, it still didn’t have much flavor, the only thing that saved the cookie was the frosting, we used the Betty Crocker in a can, it was easy for the kids. The batter however, did not change shape, it was right on, that was perfect. Next time, I will definately add more flavor to the dough.

I liked this one because in spite of the cookies being terrible (even after her exceptionally well thought out changes), she still gave out a 3/5 mark. Not bad!

 

it was really easy to make but I left them in the fridge for like 5 extra hours I didn’t think that would matter but it did i could not even roll them out they fell apart. they were like a rock trying to roll out

Common sense clearly eludes this critic. Thaw the dough un peu perhaps, then roll? Non?

 

This is the worst cookie recipe ever!!!!
Dry, dry, dry dough. Impossible to roll out.

And right below this review:

This cookie recipe is horrible! The dough was to sticky to work with and the powder sugar only made them hard. Maybe I did something wrong but in my opinion this was not good eats ;(

Ya think?

 

And finally my favourite, we all hate being made a fool in front of family and friends but nothing says disappointment like ALL CAPS!!!

I THOUGHT THIS COOKIE WAS GONNA COME OUT BOMB SINCE ITS AB , N I READ THE REVIEWS SOME SAID THEY CAME OUT GOOD AND SOME BAD!! I SHOULD HAVE LISTEN TO THOSE REVIEW! THIS IS THE NASTIEST COOKIE I EVER MADE, IT MADE ME LOOK BAD IN FRONT OF MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS I ENDED UP THROWING EVERYTHING AWAY! ITS GROSS!! DONT GET ME WRONG I LOVE AB BUT JUST NOT THIS RECIPE!

 

So in conclusion, bake on my foolish friends, bake on and please leave your fabulously angry reviews for my enjoyment!

Bake on and continue asking questions about substituting margarine in browned butter recipes, or whether you can use a hand mixer instead of an electric mixer or whether you should add an extra egg to compensate for removing the chocolate chips (wtf?!?!?!?).

 

Bake on my friends, bake on.

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Baby, I can’t drive your car.

Not legally, anyway.

That’s right kids, I am an awesome 26 year old who cannot legally drive. It’s shameful. Seriously seriously shameful. And because it’s SO shameful I, of course, have a bevy of excuses.

Let’s start with the fact that I moved to the UK just before my sixteenth birthday. I got my G1 (that’s’ Ontario-speak for a learner’s permit to my out of town readers… hah hah like you even exist) my first trip home. And I believe I started driving school that very summer, and I even passed! But then something happened. I stopped caring, or didn’t bother booking a road test, or just became generally apathetic. I was also in England for the entire five years my G1 lasted. So that’s probably a contributing factor.

When I moved back home, I booked some refresher lessons with my old instructor, and booked my road test. He said I was fine, I just needed to boost my confidence with buttloads of practice. Which was entirely true. I could drive, I could even parallel park like a god, but my downfall was driving with other cars. Cars that obviously wanted to kill me. Obviously I should not have been allowed to watch Christine when I was nine. I was like a paranoid, white knuckled, crack addict on four wheels. So that was awesome.

But on an exceptionally frigid January morning I drove myself and my mother to the Drivetest centre (recently privatised – hello profit making!) at Downsview park, and welcomed a ridiculously irritable, cranky-pants, bitter young tester into my mom’s mazda. And off we drove!

Things were going swimmingly until moments after he asked me to make a left-hand turn at a freaking 8000 lane intersection. I missed my chance at the yellow as there were cars in line turning before me, so I had to make my turn on the next green. And I did, without death or injury. And this is when my fabulous tester piped up from his angry silence and said “You took that turn too slowly, that’s illegal.” And I was all ”Pardon?” And he replied with “You were going far too below the speed limit. You were impeding traffic.” I guess I was supposed to go from zero to sixty during my turn? So that’s when I knew I had failed, and decided to not give a shit and fuck up the rest of the exam.

Sadly I was quite near the end of the exam anyway, so the only awesome thing I got to fuck up was parking. So like a champ, I backed up into a the indicated parking spot at the test centre, leaving mere centimeters in between the passenger door and the car next to it, and turned off the car. I turned to my formidable tester-man, big grin and said “Oh? I guess you need to get out. Sorry! Let me adjust!” And grinning ear to ear, because frankly it was the only thing I could do to hold back the tears of epic failure, I adjusted, let the guy out, and he promptly filled out his form ticking off the box for GIANT FAILURE mistake (impeding traffic) and my minor act of asshattery (shitty parking job) and failed me on the spot. Yes people, I failed my driving test for taking a left-turn too slowly.

Now, let me assure you that I do realise that no one had any business granting me the legal ability to drive solo. NO ONE. I was a terrible, fearful driver. BUT somehow I managed to stuff that all deep deep inside me, fake it so good, and actually drive like a regular human. And this guy was desperately grasping at straws when he failed me. And for that I was not only pissed, but decided I didn’t really give a shit anymore. I lived down town. I bought a bike. I hate the ‘burbs. I didn’t need to drive. Especially when my license had expired and I’d have to start from the very beginning, and that was a very unsavoury idea.

But five years have passed right on by since that fateful day, and it has been a horrifying ten years since I was issued my G1 in the first place. So in honour of my decade of being inept, I will endeavor to learn how to drive. I think the past five years of riding my bike amongst terrifying traffic has cured my fear of other drivers. Why, today I was almost smooshed by a garbage truck going through a red light backwards. That was charming. So if I can mentally deal with dicing with death on a daily basis (holy alliteration), then I think being surrounded by several tons of steel, and having a horn that people can actually hear, will be a slight comfort. And thus driving amongst idiots, my peers even, will be slightly less frightening.

Maybe.

Either way, if Rob Ford gets elected, I’ll need to at least pretend I can drive a car so I don’t get deported like my reprobate, socialist, unemployable brethren. Hah.

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