So 10 hours ago when I was standing in the Salvos my brain was all like, "hey, lets buy that brown silk hand beaded top with the draped back and the asymmetric hem. We can shorten the shoulder straps, take out the tag, make the drape be at the bust and straighten out the hem. It'll be fun. How long ago were asymmetric hems "in", anyway? God, that was a flash in the pan. Ohh, better hurry, we need to be at the school in 5 minutes."
45 minutes later Casey told brain that actually, I had a whole another hour before I needed to be at the school. And just a few minutes ago, my brain was like "oh, did I say fun? I meant to say "a horrible idea don't do it you stupid girl put it back just make a white top from that stretch crepe ohmygodyoustupididiotaargh!!!!" Actually, I'm pretty sure what I said. You must have misheard me."
So basically my brain is a lying scoundrel and I'm hemming a beaded silk gauze top by hand tonight.
In semi-related news, this is a friendly reminder not to sit on your bed with your legs underneath you while wearing skinny jeans, lest your legs fall off. That's a pretty important cautionary tale.
EDIT, 3.30am: I think the fact that left to their own devices, my hands are capable of beading over the shoulder join and hemming the bottom, almost makes up for the fact that my brain is a jerk.
Showing posts with label seriously random shit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label seriously random shit. Show all posts
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Monday, May 13, 2013
Is variety, the so called "spice of life", actually spicy enough that you don't need actual spices?
Or: How I learned that people without a functioning sense of smell probably shouldn't do cooking experiments on top of the fireplace.
We are nearly out of tomato sauce.
That might sound like a weird opening, but here's the thing: my body has an uncanny ability to crave whatever it is that we are running low on in the house. Want peanut butter on toast? No bread. Would give your left leg for a paddle pop? No ice-cream of an kind in any of the four freezers. If I'm having a hamburger (by which I mean a beef patty, and a bit of bread) I want tomato sauce with it. Ergo, tonight, midnight, I open the fridge, see a packet of mince, think "perfect, hamburger it is." Sure, the mince is one day after it's best before, but don't they play it safe with those things, surely you have a day or two extra, right?
Not only that, but it's winter (pretty much) now. The fire is lit. The fire, which gets super hot because it's 20 years old and all its insulating bricks have fallen out. The fire that, sometimes last year, I would cook a beef patty on, instead of having to wash a frypan.
Also, I decided to test that thing where, if you wrap a bottle of drink in some damp taper towel and put it in the freezer, it gets cold in 5 minutes. This will be an important part of the resolution to the story, even though it seems a bit random (ie. not as ominous as everything else Ive written so far) at this point in the story.
So I've decided to cook a burger on top of the fire. Normally I'd mix the mince with breadcrumbs and seasoning, but, well, I'm both hungry and lazy. And anyway, aren't Maccas burgers supposed to be all beef? If they don't need breadcrumbs, neither do I. So I squish the mince between some baking paper till it's flatish, carry it across the kitchen, and plop it onto the top of the fireplace.
It makes a satisfactory sizzling noise. There's a big bit of baking paper folded around it, but I've put the fold to the back so I can lift it up and have a look inside.
It appears to be browning in the correct fashion. But this is where the problem starts. Some beef juice is leaking out in the sizzling. This happens when I make stir-fry, but not when I cook myself a burger. Conclusion: the breadcrumbs are needed to soak up the juice so it doesn't leak everywhere. I get a spatula and try to hold up either side of the paper, so the juice will pool under the burger next to the crease and hopefully re-absorb into the burger.
I know very little about cooking. I now know more: I now know that this does not work.
When the underside appears to be sufficiently brown, I try to pick up the burger and flip it over, without letting the tiny, miniscule dribble of juice I expect to be leftover (ha!) come out the sides.
It doesn't work.
So now there's beef juice sizzling on the metal surface of the fireplace, and from the feel of it, there's still a fair bit of liquid in the baking paper. I carry it over to the sink, and drop down one corner. About 45 litres of liquid gushes out. My burger is half cooked. The baking paper is feeling a bit damp. I get another piece of baking paper, this time doing some foldy-origami type thing to the sides.
I take it back and cook the other side. The origami turns out to not be necessary: the fact that it's already managed to perform the scientific wonder of expelling 5 times as much liquid as it appeared to weigh (I too have done this, one morning when I was so hungover I peed for about 15 minutes) has left it quite dry now that it's time to cook the other side. And even more dry when I bring it over to the plate, and cut through it to make sure that it's cooked through.
I figure I should try clean the top of the still lit, still very hot fireplace, and fortunately, I have some frozen paper towel wrapped around a not-really-at-all-cold bottle of coke in the freezer. And it turns out that frozen paper towel does an alright job of cleaning the top of a hot fire, if by cleaning you mean wiping a few times in hope that it's making some sort of difference and also not getting burnt. I don't know if it's actually even slightly clean: I think the best way to tell will be to wait for someone to go "what's that smell?" since I, as ever, smell nothing. But the bottom of the now half sizzling, half frozen paper towel is a bit brown, as it would be had it cleaned up some well-cooked beef juice, so I figure, job well done.
Having given cleaning the top of the fire a, excuse the pun, red hot go, I go to the cupboard to get some sauce to have with my burger, and discover what you have known from the beginning; that all 4 bottles of sauce in the cupboard have just a tiny dreg in the bottom, which will only come out, accompanied by little fart noises, with a good deal of shaking and squeezing. There simply isn't enough sauce to cover the fact that my burger is a dried out, shriveled up blob of blandness, that may or may not have been fit for human consumption before I even got it out of the fridge.
I chop it up into little bits and put it in the dog's bowl, and eat my piece of bread, unsure how exactly I made it to the point where I am considered an actual grown up human being.
In conclusion, it's probably a better idea to just use regular herbs and spices, than to decide that cooking in a way you haven't done in about 8 months is going to be enough to make your dinner edible. Also, if you've been putting off writing a blog post for about 3 months because you know that it will be your 900th, and you want to make it worthwhile, maybe it's just better to do something so stupid that it deserves the spelling stoopid, and blog about that instead.
P.S. I just went to the kitchen and the dog appears to have eaten it. I guess it can't have been BAD bad, since his nose (I assume) would be able to tell the difference.
We are nearly out of tomato sauce.
That might sound like a weird opening, but here's the thing: my body has an uncanny ability to crave whatever it is that we are running low on in the house. Want peanut butter on toast? No bread. Would give your left leg for a paddle pop? No ice-cream of an kind in any of the four freezers. If I'm having a hamburger (by which I mean a beef patty, and a bit of bread) I want tomato sauce with it. Ergo, tonight, midnight, I open the fridge, see a packet of mince, think "perfect, hamburger it is." Sure, the mince is one day after it's best before, but don't they play it safe with those things, surely you have a day or two extra, right?
Not only that, but it's winter (pretty much) now. The fire is lit. The fire, which gets super hot because it's 20 years old and all its insulating bricks have fallen out. The fire that, sometimes last year, I would cook a beef patty on, instead of having to wash a frypan.
Also, I decided to test that thing where, if you wrap a bottle of drink in some damp taper towel and put it in the freezer, it gets cold in 5 minutes. This will be an important part of the resolution to the story, even though it seems a bit random (ie. not as ominous as everything else Ive written so far) at this point in the story.
So I've decided to cook a burger on top of the fire. Normally I'd mix the mince with breadcrumbs and seasoning, but, well, I'm both hungry and lazy. And anyway, aren't Maccas burgers supposed to be all beef? If they don't need breadcrumbs, neither do I. So I squish the mince between some baking paper till it's flatish, carry it across the kitchen, and plop it onto the top of the fireplace.
It makes a satisfactory sizzling noise. There's a big bit of baking paper folded around it, but I've put the fold to the back so I can lift it up and have a look inside.
It appears to be browning in the correct fashion. But this is where the problem starts. Some beef juice is leaking out in the sizzling. This happens when I make stir-fry, but not when I cook myself a burger. Conclusion: the breadcrumbs are needed to soak up the juice so it doesn't leak everywhere. I get a spatula and try to hold up either side of the paper, so the juice will pool under the burger next to the crease and hopefully re-absorb into the burger.
I know very little about cooking. I now know more: I now know that this does not work.
When the underside appears to be sufficiently brown, I try to pick up the burger and flip it over, without letting the tiny, miniscule dribble of juice I expect to be leftover (ha!) come out the sides.
It doesn't work.
So now there's beef juice sizzling on the metal surface of the fireplace, and from the feel of it, there's still a fair bit of liquid in the baking paper. I carry it over to the sink, and drop down one corner. About 45 litres of liquid gushes out. My burger is half cooked. The baking paper is feeling a bit damp. I get another piece of baking paper, this time doing some foldy-origami type thing to the sides.
I take it back and cook the other side. The origami turns out to not be necessary: the fact that it's already managed to perform the scientific wonder of expelling 5 times as much liquid as it appeared to weigh (I too have done this, one morning when I was so hungover I peed for about 15 minutes) has left it quite dry now that it's time to cook the other side. And even more dry when I bring it over to the plate, and cut through it to make sure that it's cooked through.
I figure I should try clean the top of the still lit, still very hot fireplace, and fortunately, I have some frozen paper towel wrapped around a not-really-at-all-cold bottle of coke in the freezer. And it turns out that frozen paper towel does an alright job of cleaning the top of a hot fire, if by cleaning you mean wiping a few times in hope that it's making some sort of difference and also not getting burnt. I don't know if it's actually even slightly clean: I think the best way to tell will be to wait for someone to go "what's that smell?" since I, as ever, smell nothing. But the bottom of the now half sizzling, half frozen paper towel is a bit brown, as it would be had it cleaned up some well-cooked beef juice, so I figure, job well done.
Having given cleaning the top of the fire a, excuse the pun, red hot go, I go to the cupboard to get some sauce to have with my burger, and discover what you have known from the beginning; that all 4 bottles of sauce in the cupboard have just a tiny dreg in the bottom, which will only come out, accompanied by little fart noises, with a good deal of shaking and squeezing. There simply isn't enough sauce to cover the fact that my burger is a dried out, shriveled up blob of blandness, that may or may not have been fit for human consumption before I even got it out of the fridge.
I chop it up into little bits and put it in the dog's bowl, and eat my piece of bread, unsure how exactly I made it to the point where I am considered an actual grown up human being.
In conclusion, it's probably a better idea to just use regular herbs and spices, than to decide that cooking in a way you haven't done in about 8 months is going to be enough to make your dinner edible. Also, if you've been putting off writing a blog post for about 3 months because you know that it will be your 900th, and you want to make it worthwhile, maybe it's just better to do something so stupid that it deserves the spelling stoopid, and blog about that instead.
P.S. I just went to the kitchen and the dog appears to have eaten it. I guess it can't have been BAD bad, since his nose (I assume) would be able to tell the difference.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Still Alive.
Hi everybody. I just wanted to let you know that I'm not dead. Nor have I joined the circus, or a cult, or the French Foreign Legion. Nor, contrary to what you may have heard, do I have a new boyfriend, and, especially, I have not gotten back together with my ex boyfriend. Really.
Actually, the reason that I haven't been posting anything is because, quite simply, I haven't been sewing anything. Until before a couple of nights ago, my sewing for the last month or so had consisted entirely of me hemming jeans and adding ribbons to kids sized shirts to be waist ties. Kids sized shirts aren't that flattering to the waistline.
A couple of nights ago though I remembered that it was only a couple of days till christmas, and more to the point I realised that, even after buying pretty much every single red and green checked fabric in the Mount, that I at no point had bought the right one to make myself a replica of the stocking from the the season 3 Community christmas episode, but then I realised that that it didn't matter because the pink and green on-point-check from the DS range (I think) before last that was chilling in my stash was kinda perfect in every way except that it was pink instead if red, but whatever, no-one cares. So I made a couple of stockings in the fandom-y spirit.
Not that anyone really gets it. But for those who do, yes, they are big enough to wear as a hat.
And then, of course, yesterday, I realised that I knew exactly what to make a couple of my friends for christmas, but, in pretty much the story of my life, I had like 5 hours to make them all.
First up I made another stocking for EmmStaff. It's ever so slightly smaller than the green ones, and she forgot to come in and get it in time for christmas, so Annalise and Hamish held it up tonight after work while I took a photo after work. But it's made with some Birds Of Norway fabric (it's a Kaufman from a few years ago) and it's one of the most innately cool fabrics I've ever bought, without at any point giving away the fact that it knows it's an innately cool fabric. Which pretty much sums up Emm => very cool, doesn't realise it yet, and cause it's not actually a christmas fabric, and because she turns 18 in eight days, she's gunna use it as a birthday stocking.
And then I also made some tumblr things into plushies. And didn't take photos. Annalise took a photo of hers though: a pair of plusies comprising the message icon and the notification icon.
I made two of the other girls plushies too, I just need to wait for them to put them on the internets. In th meantime, happy christmas everyone, from me and the 6 ciders I drank earlier.
Actually, the reason that I haven't been posting anything is because, quite simply, I haven't been sewing anything. Until before a couple of nights ago, my sewing for the last month or so had consisted entirely of me hemming jeans and adding ribbons to kids sized shirts to be waist ties. Kids sized shirts aren't that flattering to the waistline.
A couple of nights ago though I remembered that it was only a couple of days till christmas, and more to the point I realised that, even after buying pretty much every single red and green checked fabric in the Mount, that I at no point had bought the right one to make myself a replica of the stocking from the the season 3 Community christmas episode, but then I realised that that it didn't matter because the pink and green on-point-check from the DS range (I think) before last that was chilling in my stash was kinda perfect in every way except that it was pink instead if red, but whatever, no-one cares. So I made a couple of stockings in the fandom-y spirit.
Not that anyone really gets it. But for those who do, yes, they are big enough to wear as a hat.
And then, of course, yesterday, I realised that I knew exactly what to make a couple of my friends for christmas, but, in pretty much the story of my life, I had like 5 hours to make them all.
First up I made another stocking for EmmStaff. It's ever so slightly smaller than the green ones, and she forgot to come in and get it in time for christmas, so Annalise and Hamish held it up tonight after work while I took a photo after work. But it's made with some Birds Of Norway fabric (it's a Kaufman from a few years ago) and it's one of the most innately cool fabrics I've ever bought, without at any point giving away the fact that it knows it's an innately cool fabric. Which pretty much sums up Emm => very cool, doesn't realise it yet, and cause it's not actually a christmas fabric, and because she turns 18 in eight days, she's gunna use it as a birthday stocking.
And then I also made some tumblr things into plushies. And didn't take photos. Annalise took a photo of hers though: a pair of plusies comprising the message icon and the notification icon.
I made two of the other girls plushies too, I just need to wait for them to put them on the internets. In th meantime, happy christmas everyone, from me and the 6 ciders I drank earlier.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Life choices: Validated.
My mum said to me a few weeks ago (I think it was when I was churning out the adorbs halloween animal ears) "why can't you and your father use your powers for good instead of evil?"
However, all my life choices were validated when ABC local radio's Stan Thompson said that he was particularly impressed by my dinosaur dog costume, as worn by Graham in the local Christmas Pageant on Saturday.
Admittedly, in all the photos it looks like there's a stuffed toy dinosaur trying to hump him. I'm gunna say that it's my retaliation for all those times when he's humped my leg. Powers For Evil!
Anyway, The Bedrock Kids float won the "encouragement award" and made it into the paper. There were 5 copies of The Border Watch in our kitchen tonight when I got home... one on each of the 4 tables, and one in my hand as I walked in.
Honestly, encouraging us isn't that good of an idea. With no encouragement at all my father built a four-bike-powered Flintstones car on a whim and I managed to design, draft and construct a perfect doggie-dino costume in an evening. Admittedly, I did need a bit of encouragement to help with the kids costumes, but that was because mum assembled them and then wanted me to sew the spots and triangles on them. And she always wanted me to do it in the mid-morning, instead of at 2am like I normally would.
And she's got the nerve to call me evil. I think it's not only my father that I get that from...
However, all my life choices were validated when ABC local radio's Stan Thompson said that he was particularly impressed by my dinosaur dog costume, as worn by Graham in the local Christmas Pageant on Saturday.
Admittedly, in all the photos it looks like there's a stuffed toy dinosaur trying to hump him. I'm gunna say that it's my retaliation for all those times when he's humped my leg. Powers For Evil!
Anyway, The Bedrock Kids float won the "encouragement award" and made it into the paper. There were 5 copies of The Border Watch in our kitchen tonight when I got home... one on each of the 4 tables, and one in my hand as I walked in.
Honestly, encouraging us isn't that good of an idea. With no encouragement at all my father built a four-bike-powered Flintstones car on a whim and I managed to design, draft and construct a perfect doggie-dino costume in an evening. Admittedly, I did need a bit of encouragement to help with the kids costumes, but that was because mum assembled them and then wanted me to sew the spots and triangles on them. And she always wanted me to do it in the mid-morning, instead of at 2am like I normally would.
And she's got the nerve to call me evil. I think it's not only my father that I get that from...
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
And it's over...
As of 10 hours from now (8 hours of which will be spent sleeping) my holidays are over. Sad times, though, admittedly, considering it was only 5 days off, short times too.
I've spent most of the last 5 days sewing costumes for Halloween, from a whole heap of ears:
To a truly bitchin' Red Riding Hood cloak, that I don't even get to wear because I agreed to do it for Chantelle.
And a cow print onsie that's given me a lot of trouble because it's for someone who's a completely different size to me. And that doesn't matter with animal ears or badass crepe georgette (why did I pick that fabric? It was horrible to work with) cloaks. But on me, the crotch is almost down to my knees, and the legs are waaay too long, which stopped me from putting feet on it like she wanted. I've put some buttonholes at the ends of the legs though, so I can make her some button on feet later.
And a half dozen boring black capes that I'll probably insist management wear, since I like the idea that they can be the villains of the piece. I'm still going with being a cool cat. Brittni (who we often call Britta) is going to be one too, so I think that means that halfway through the shift I need to get myself some white wings and a halo and be the cool cat that had too many drugs.
Hopefully I'll meet some more Community fans in the process. The world needs more cool cats.
I've spent most of the last 5 days sewing costumes for Halloween, from a whole heap of ears:
To a truly bitchin' Red Riding Hood cloak, that I don't even get to wear because I agreed to do it for Chantelle.
And a cow print onsie that's given me a lot of trouble because it's for someone who's a completely different size to me. And that doesn't matter with animal ears or badass crepe georgette (why did I pick that fabric? It was horrible to work with) cloaks. But on me, the crotch is almost down to my knees, and the legs are waaay too long, which stopped me from putting feet on it like she wanted. I've put some buttonholes at the ends of the legs though, so I can make her some button on feet later.
And a half dozen boring black capes that I'll probably insist management wear, since I like the idea that they can be the villains of the piece. I'm still going with being a cool cat. Brittni (who we often call Britta) is going to be one too, so I think that means that halfway through the shift I need to get myself some white wings and a halo and be the cool cat that had too many drugs.
Hopefully I'll meet some more Community fans in the process. The world needs more cool cats.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
I wish so hard that it was real...
So a couple of weeks ago, for reasons that now escape my memory, it came up at work that I knew one of my co-workers credit card details off by heart. Obviously, a couple of the girls at front end immediatelly decided we should use them for something, and an epic international holiday was decided on. Over the course of the rest of the shift, this hypothetical holiday was hashed out, attendees decided apon and dates chosen. There's about ten of us. I say "about" because we have been arbitrarily uninviting and adding people as we see fit.
We left for our hypothetical holiday yesterday morning.
First up is 4 days in New Zealand. We arrived at Mt Hutt last night and spent today skiing. Tomorrow we are going to try snowboarding. Then we are flying to the north island, because I want to visit Hobbiton. That's what we're doing Thursday, and then Thursday afternoon we're doing a tandem bungee jump. Annalise, Emily and I are agreed that this is very important, (so important it may actually become a real life - albeit more local, thing) and we want as many of our co-travellers to join in as possible. Brenton has to, we have decided. It's his credit-card we're using, so that's only fair.
Friday morning we are flying to Hawaii. I picked Hawaii, mainly because Shay was there at the time, and I was jealous. I haven't made any hypothetical plans for Hawaii yet, though I believe it has been decided that we shall learn to surf. I claimed my plan was to start drinking on the plane and not sober up till we landed back in Melbourne. That was before I was quite ill on Sunday, so I have postponed my drinking till we reach Hawaii, at which point, mimosas: come at me. Nonetheless I have hypothetically sourced some lovely south island red wines.
I had though it would be fun to photoshop our faces onto pictures of people standing in the snow but Google has been rudely unforthcoming with the kind of starter images I need for that. If there's something worse than finding out that your plans for a huge international holiday on a friends credit card can't follow through because said card only has a $1000 limit, it's finding out that you can't even fake the holiday in a fun way for facebook.
Actually, no the fact that I'm not actually on the trip of a lifetime right now is worse.
If anyone wants me, I'll be on ebay, buying myself some souvenirs, while I sit here in bed eating crumbed parmesan from the jar...
We left for our hypothetical holiday yesterday morning.
First up is 4 days in New Zealand. We arrived at Mt Hutt last night and spent today skiing. Tomorrow we are going to try snowboarding. Then we are flying to the north island, because I want to visit Hobbiton. That's what we're doing Thursday, and then Thursday afternoon we're doing a tandem bungee jump. Annalise, Emily and I are agreed that this is very important, (so important it may actually become a real life - albeit more local, thing) and we want as many of our co-travellers to join in as possible. Brenton has to, we have decided. It's his credit-card we're using, so that's only fair.
Friday morning we are flying to Hawaii. I picked Hawaii, mainly because Shay was there at the time, and I was jealous. I haven't made any hypothetical plans for Hawaii yet, though I believe it has been decided that we shall learn to surf. I claimed my plan was to start drinking on the plane and not sober up till we landed back in Melbourne. That was before I was quite ill on Sunday, so I have postponed my drinking till we reach Hawaii, at which point, mimosas: come at me. Nonetheless I have hypothetically sourced some lovely south island red wines.
I had though it would be fun to photoshop our faces onto pictures of people standing in the snow but Google has been rudely unforthcoming with the kind of starter images I need for that. If there's something worse than finding out that your plans for a huge international holiday on a friends credit card can't follow through because said card only has a $1000 limit, it's finding out that you can't even fake the holiday in a fun way for facebook.
Actually, no the fact that I'm not actually on the trip of a lifetime right now is worse.
If anyone wants me, I'll be on ebay, buying myself some souvenirs, while I sit here in bed eating crumbed parmesan from the jar...
Friday, October 5, 2012
llol. with two ls.
So all of a sudden it was 3am and I realised I hadn't started Thirsty Thursdaying yet. But there was a bottle of double strength summerberry cider in the fridge, and I have a box of cruskits. So that's good. Progress is good.
Anyway, I found this earlier, and it gave me literal lols.
A teenage boy is getting ready to take his girlfriend to the prom. First he goes to rent a tux, but there’s a long tux line at the shop and it takes forever.
Next, he has to get some flowers, so he heads over to the florist and there’s a huge flower line there. He waits forever but eventually gets the flowers.
Then he heads out to rent a limo. Unfortunately, there’s a large limo line at the rental office, but he’s patient and gets the job done.
Finally, the day of the prom comes. The two are dancing happily and his girlfriend is having a great time. When the song is over, she asks him to get her some punch, so he heads over to the punch table and there’s no punchline...
Anyway, I found this earlier, and it gave me literal lols.
A teenage boy is getting ready to take his girlfriend to the prom. First he goes to rent a tux, but there’s a long tux line at the shop and it takes forever.
Next, he has to get some flowers, so he heads over to the florist and there’s a huge flower line there. He waits forever but eventually gets the flowers.
Then he heads out to rent a limo. Unfortunately, there’s a large limo line at the rental office, but he’s patient and gets the job done.
Finally, the day of the prom comes. The two are dancing happily and his girlfriend is having a great time. When the song is over, she asks him to get her some punch, so he heads over to the punch table and there’s no punchline...
Friday, September 28, 2012
Getting high, every night, with every single, every loving girl in sight...
Someone pointed out to me the other day how silly it is that they're called "roofies" when they make you fall on the floor. Nonetheless, Kelsie's Free Candy and Roofie Lexia party is tomorrow night, so while Casey was working on a pedo-van cake, I decided to make some roofies.
Now, obviously, they're not actual date-rape roofies. This isn't Breaking Bad, it's an 18th birthday party. But my original plan, which was to just give everybody Splenda tablets, was derailed by the fact that artificial sweeteners taste like shit. So I needed something else. And I decided I wanted them to be nice and obvious - both obviously there and also obviously not-actual-roofies.
Solution - basically tiny, tiny pavlovas. Beat a whole lot of icing sugar into an egg white, pipe out little pellets onto some baking paper, put another piece of baking paper on top, bake it as low as the oven will go for 5 minutes, and voila - roofies.
Some of them got a bit burnt, but they still taste fine. And about 5 times as many as are here (that's a 125ml tub, about half full) decided to sortof implode as they were cooking, so they got et already. And I made another batch where I didn't put the second piece of paper on the top, hoping that that would reduce the implosions. It did, but since their tops weren't flattened out they look kinda droplet-shaped. Still, much like the ones that imploded, they're still a delicious sugar hit.
For the record, the don't dissolve, and they float. This, combined with the fact that they give you a sugar high as opposed to causing anterograde amnesia means that anyone hoping to actually date-rape someone is going to be hugely disappointed. The effect they have is more like that time we went around one high-school lunchtime with a box of sugar cubes and a heap of those sugar-sachet-sticks. Everyone's gunna get super excited and then need a lie down.
Well, it's an 18th party, they'll be doing that anyway.
Now, obviously, they're not actual date-rape roofies. This isn't Breaking Bad, it's an 18th birthday party. But my original plan, which was to just give everybody Splenda tablets, was derailed by the fact that artificial sweeteners taste like shit. So I needed something else. And I decided I wanted them to be nice and obvious - both obviously there and also obviously not-actual-roofies.
Solution - basically tiny, tiny pavlovas. Beat a whole lot of icing sugar into an egg white, pipe out little pellets onto some baking paper, put another piece of baking paper on top, bake it as low as the oven will go for 5 minutes, and voila - roofies.
Some of them got a bit burnt, but they still taste fine. And about 5 times as many as are here (that's a 125ml tub, about half full) decided to sortof implode as they were cooking, so they got et already. And I made another batch where I didn't put the second piece of paper on the top, hoping that that would reduce the implosions. It did, but since their tops weren't flattened out they look kinda droplet-shaped. Still, much like the ones that imploded, they're still a delicious sugar hit.
For the record, the don't dissolve, and they float. This, combined with the fact that they give you a sugar high as opposed to causing anterograde amnesia means that anyone hoping to actually date-rape someone is going to be hugely disappointed. The effect they have is more like that time we went around one high-school lunchtime with a box of sugar cubes and a heap of those sugar-sachet-sticks. Everyone's gunna get super excited and then need a lie down.
Well, it's an 18th party, they'll be doing that anyway.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
So, this happened...
Tonight I went looking for stripey fabric, found a really old demo Kindle and pulled it apart with a butter knife. I found it very interesting, but I realise that such antics are not particularly good blog fodder. Also, I cut my finger. Not like, bad, but it hurts. Kinda like a paper cut, but on the inside of a Kindle.
That's only fair, I guess, since I was prising out it's innards with a kitchen utensil.
That's only fair, I guess, since I was prising out it's innards with a kitchen utensil.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
#Shameless
So I've been thinking about maybe having myself a Shameless Saturday this weekend. Not that it would entail any of the kinds of things one might think something called Shameless Saturday should entail, on account of the fact that I still have only the barest of voices and a tendency to explode into an asthma attack as soon as I get too warm/cold/thirsty/horizontal - no, my Shameless Saturday would be a facebook thing, where, just like I did with First World Problems Night, I'd post a status of something I have no shame about every hour or so.
Stuff like:
Just spent 3 hours looking at cute animals on BuzzFeed. #shameless
Sniper bid yet another dress I don't need from someone who probably really wanted it on ebay. #shameless
I bulk buy huge amounts of chocolate when it's cheap and hide it from my family. #shameless
Haven't cleaned out my handbag since I bought it. #shameless
I mainly watch True Blood for the nudity. But only because the plots this season have been so ridiculous. #shameless
Or, here's some ones about sewing:
Sometimes, I quilt with polyester thread. #shameless
I hardly ever trim my blocks. #shameless #lazy
I never follow the instructions on a dressmaking pattern. #shameless
I don't press my seams, I iron them. #shameless
I sew over my pins. #shameless #hardcore
All of this was, of course, inspired by someone tweeting "Leg hair don't care" which is the kind of brilliant succinctity I wish I could master. I've spent a whole blog post wishing I could sum myself up in 4 words or less. #irony
Stuff like:
Just spent 3 hours looking at cute animals on BuzzFeed. #shameless
Sniper bid yet another dress I don't need from someone who probably really wanted it on ebay. #shameless
I bulk buy huge amounts of chocolate when it's cheap and hide it from my family. #shameless
Haven't cleaned out my handbag since I bought it. #shameless
I mainly watch True Blood for the nudity. But only because the plots this season have been so ridiculous. #shameless
Or, here's some ones about sewing:
Sometimes, I quilt with polyester thread. #shameless
I hardly ever trim my blocks. #shameless #lazy
I never follow the instructions on a dressmaking pattern. #shameless
I don't press my seams, I iron them. #shameless
I sew over my pins. #shameless #hardcore
All of this was, of course, inspired by someone tweeting "Leg hair don't care" which is the kind of brilliant succinctity I wish I could master. I've spent a whole blog post wishing I could sum myself up in 4 words or less. #irony
Monday, August 6, 2012
The BnS Post - Stonerollers 2012
...
(That would be the pause I give when someone asks me how my weekend went.)
Well... (that would be the traditional beginning) It was awesome. I had been a bit worried for the last couple of weeks that a) the weather would be shit and b) that I would have hyped it up a bit too much in my brain, resulting in the inevitable dissapointment.
But, thankfully, wrong on both counts. Saturday morning we left a dreary grey sky'd Adelaide, and we took the curly mountain road (Eagle on the Hill) instead of going through the tunnel, and that was AMAZING. All Caps amazing. Pulling onto the the off-ramp from the freeway, going up the mountain, it got super-foggy. There was NO view. Just white. Curly, twisty roads, up and down hills, white either side of the road and visibility ahead of about 50 metres. It was like living a dream sequence. I considered doing a loop and having a second go, but Casey was driving her car ahead of me, and I wanted to keep convoy. But back on the freeway it all burnt off, and even though it wasn't exactly warm, it was nice in the sun.
There was a pretty big line at the gate, and we all decided that, obviously, we'd start drinking. But I accidentally got one of my strong ciders, and had 3 standard drinks in a half hour... by the time I actually got to pay for my ticket I was dying of indigestion and trying really hard to play it cool. One we were actually in I pulled back a bit, but I kept at it and didn't return to real sobriety till today.
The ball itself consisted of me dirty dancing with as many people as I possibly could and making out with a dozen guys. I stopped my actual alcohol drinking at midnight, which is a good plan if you don't want to wake up with a walking dead hangover, and got on with the all important picking up. I even managed to get about 4 hours of sleep.
Recovery today was almost more bonkers than last night, because I did it all again sober. More overambitious dancing, more boys, and a wet tshirt contest that was very much about the wet and not so much about the tshirts. They'd chopped them down but thankfully my boobs are small enough that they were still covered. No-one else's were, so I kept a shred of dignity by comparison and got my horrible sticky clumpy hair somewhat rinsed out.
We hung about till about 3pm, sitting in the afternoon sun at the campsites after recovery stopped at 1, then we eventually got mustered to go, got KFC and headed home.
Tonight, I faced the biggest challenge of the whole weekend - there wasn't enough hot water left when it came time for me to take my shower.
It was horrible.
(That would be the pause I give when someone asks me how my weekend went.)
Well... (that would be the traditional beginning) It was awesome. I had been a bit worried for the last couple of weeks that a) the weather would be shit and b) that I would have hyped it up a bit too much in my brain, resulting in the inevitable dissapointment.
But, thankfully, wrong on both counts. Saturday morning we left a dreary grey sky'd Adelaide, and we took the curly mountain road (Eagle on the Hill) instead of going through the tunnel, and that was AMAZING. All Caps amazing. Pulling onto the the off-ramp from the freeway, going up the mountain, it got super-foggy. There was NO view. Just white. Curly, twisty roads, up and down hills, white either side of the road and visibility ahead of about 50 metres. It was like living a dream sequence. I considered doing a loop and having a second go, but Casey was driving her car ahead of me, and I wanted to keep convoy. But back on the freeway it all burnt off, and even though it wasn't exactly warm, it was nice in the sun.
There was a pretty big line at the gate, and we all decided that, obviously, we'd start drinking. But I accidentally got one of my strong ciders, and had 3 standard drinks in a half hour... by the time I actually got to pay for my ticket I was dying of indigestion and trying really hard to play it cool. One we were actually in I pulled back a bit, but I kept at it and didn't return to real sobriety till today.
The ball itself consisted of me dirty dancing with as many people as I possibly could and making out with a dozen guys. I stopped my actual alcohol drinking at midnight, which is a good plan if you don't want to wake up with a walking dead hangover, and got on with the all important picking up. I even managed to get about 4 hours of sleep.
Recovery today was almost more bonkers than last night, because I did it all again sober. More overambitious dancing, more boys, and a wet tshirt contest that was very much about the wet and not so much about the tshirts. They'd chopped them down but thankfully my boobs are small enough that they were still covered. No-one else's were, so I kept a shred of dignity by comparison and got my horrible sticky clumpy hair somewhat rinsed out.
We hung about till about 3pm, sitting in the afternoon sun at the campsites after recovery stopped at 1, then we eventually got mustered to go, got KFC and headed home.
Tonight, I faced the biggest challenge of the whole weekend - there wasn't enough hot water left when it came time for me to take my shower.
It was horrible.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Sometimes.
Most of the time, I'm kinda glad I didn't move to Adelaide and do fashion design. The fact that, six months or so after I was due to leave, I pretty much stopped sewing clothes and switched to quilts instead, kinda felt like validation. And even though I'll never really know, I think that, for all that I would have gained, I would have also probably missed out on great things like this blog, and all my amazing local friends, and getting to be a proper bogan.
If I had moved to Adelaide, I don't know that I would be able to sing along to that scene in Magic Mike where he dances to Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy. And that would be a pretty big loss.
Sometimes though, I wish I had. Not that my wardrobe isn't quite bitchin' enough, but it'd be nice to just whip up what I really really want off the top of my head, instead of waiting for the pattern to get here, and knowing that even though it's lovely, I'd like it to have one of those shoulder gussets. I really like them. I could be terribly edgy, hanging out in hip city bars. I'd probably have a girlfriend, because I've heard that all the boys you meet at the TAFE SA arts campus are gay, so most of the girls decide to be too. But I'm sure we'd be very hip, and edgy, and I like to think we would share a wardrobe, which we had worked together on. It's all a fun, entirely fictional alternative to my real life which is: tonight, I went to the gym, and then it was cold outside and my thighs cramped up and were hurting so I came home and got in the electric blanket.
On the other hand, things like this are apparently in season. And I sure as hell don't want to work in an industry that feels this way.
If I had moved to Adelaide, I don't know that I would be able to sing along to that scene in Magic Mike where he dances to Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy. And that would be a pretty big loss.
Sometimes though, I wish I had. Not that my wardrobe isn't quite bitchin' enough, but it'd be nice to just whip up what I really really want off the top of my head, instead of waiting for the pattern to get here, and knowing that even though it's lovely, I'd like it to have one of those shoulder gussets. I really like them. I could be terribly edgy, hanging out in hip city bars. I'd probably have a girlfriend, because I've heard that all the boys you meet at the TAFE SA arts campus are gay, so most of the girls decide to be too. But I'm sure we'd be very hip, and edgy, and I like to think we would share a wardrobe, which we had worked together on. It's all a fun, entirely fictional alternative to my real life which is: tonight, I went to the gym, and then it was cold outside and my thighs cramped up and were hurting so I came home and got in the electric blanket.
On the other hand, things like this are apparently in season. And I sure as hell don't want to work in an industry that feels this way.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Ow.
For some inexplicable reason, I have made myself a snot-green snowflake.
But I've learned that the first stitch of your round is actually the last*, and I feel the better for knowing it.
I've also learned that when you pick up your yellow crochet hook and bit into it quite hard, because you thought it was a breadstick, it hurts.
*I know that that statement doesn't really make sense, but it's hard to explain. I know what I mean.
But I've learned that the first stitch of your round is actually the last*, and I feel the better for knowing it.
I've also learned that when you pick up your yellow crochet hook and bit into it quite hard, because you thought it was a breadstick, it hurts.
*I know that that statement doesn't really make sense, but it's hard to explain. I know what I mean.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Even I don't know...
Forgive me if I come off sounding bonkers, but tonight I had a theory:
I'm pretty good at getting nice matching points. That's not my theory, it's just a background statement. As is this - I also don't quilt in inches.
Now, I know correlation doesn't imply causation. But the fact remains, I use sketchy maths, usually done my me either at 3am or sneakily at work, and an inconstant seam, that may or may not be about 7.5mm (since I've never actually measured it) and there's often a bit of seam that ends up sticking out further or less than the one on the other side. And yet, I still, without trimming, usually end up with pretty neat points.
Granted, I do pin all my seams, and there's often a bit of ease stitching going on, but I'm thinking (here's the actual theory) that since I've never been beholden to the idea of the accurate or scant quarter inch seam, I've never been ashamed to have my seams be wider or narrower, if it means having a nicely matching point. My HSTs in particular - the back of the top, if you were to look at it before it were quilted, is often really haphazard looking, with seams that appear to be very uneven. But from the front, so long as the seams are wide enough to not fray (and with a start seam over a millimetre wider than a standard imperial seam, I'm usually fairly confident that they'll hold even if they're a bit under) it'll look better from the front that it would have had I been focused solely on my seams maintaining that accurate quarter inch.
I'm not sure what the point to this theory is, other than to point out, as I occasionally like to do, that metric is the measurement of the future, and that while a base 12 may be divisible neatly by 4, maybe the creative abandon that comes from the uncertainty inherent in a decimal place can be an obviously beneficial part of the artistic process. That one sometimes has to be wrong to be right.
Or maybe it's just that I'm drunk*.
*clearly, I'm not drunk. Drunk people don't write sentences like that second-to-last one, which I'm proud to say is probably the most pontificational bullshit I've written since high school. Maybe someone should slap me?
I'm pretty good at getting nice matching points. That's not my theory, it's just a background statement. As is this - I also don't quilt in inches.
Now, I know correlation doesn't imply causation. But the fact remains, I use sketchy maths, usually done my me either at 3am or sneakily at work, and an inconstant seam, that may or may not be about 7.5mm (since I've never actually measured it) and there's often a bit of seam that ends up sticking out further or less than the one on the other side. And yet, I still, without trimming, usually end up with pretty neat points.
Granted, I do pin all my seams, and there's often a bit of ease stitching going on, but I'm thinking (here's the actual theory) that since I've never been beholden to the idea of the accurate or scant quarter inch seam, I've never been ashamed to have my seams be wider or narrower, if it means having a nicely matching point. My HSTs in particular - the back of the top, if you were to look at it before it were quilted, is often really haphazard looking, with seams that appear to be very uneven. But from the front, so long as the seams are wide enough to not fray (and with a start seam over a millimetre wider than a standard imperial seam, I'm usually fairly confident that they'll hold even if they're a bit under) it'll look better from the front that it would have had I been focused solely on my seams maintaining that accurate quarter inch.
I'm not sure what the point to this theory is, other than to point out, as I occasionally like to do, that metric is the measurement of the future, and that while a base 12 may be divisible neatly by 4, maybe the creative abandon that comes from the uncertainty inherent in a decimal place can be an obviously beneficial part of the artistic process. That one sometimes has to be wrong to be right.
Or maybe it's just that I'm drunk*.
*clearly, I'm not drunk. Drunk people don't write sentences like that second-to-last one, which I'm proud to say is probably the most pontificational bullshit I've written since high school. Maybe someone should slap me?
Sunday, July 1, 2012
YOLO.
Some days I get why most bloggers don't post every day, because, truly, not ever day has something happen. Some days, you get up, buy some boring stuff (undies, chocolate) go play with some babies, have dinner, have a couple of drinks, get encouraged to go into town with your sister, realise you really don't feel like going out tonight, read a few very interesting pieces on feminism while sitting in a bar packed with 20 somethings wearing not enough clothing and too much heel, and then you get maccas and come home and laugh till you cry over some random funny photo pages.
And sadly, that isn't really blog-worthy, though at least by having done it, I'll be able to find out in the future, relatively quickly, what I was doing on the eve of the new financial year 2012/13. That really for me is the handiest thing about this blog, since I'm a bit shit with the whole "remembering" thing - earlier this year I had to look up my post from my birthday last year, because it was a complete blank.
Anyway, for my new financial years resolution (which, as a personal rule, has to be non-financial) is going to be to put more effort into wearing my pretty clothes on my days off. I have a pretty big wardrobe (contents, not physical space, sadly) and a lot of it only gets worn on a potential 2 days a week when I'm not working. So it's a shame that I so often just go with a pair of daggy jeans and a long sleeve tee. YOLO, as facebook would say, so I'm gunna dress purty.
And sadly, that isn't really blog-worthy, though at least by having done it, I'll be able to find out in the future, relatively quickly, what I was doing on the eve of the new financial year 2012/13. That really for me is the handiest thing about this blog, since I'm a bit shit with the whole "remembering" thing - earlier this year I had to look up my post from my birthday last year, because it was a complete blank.
Anyway, for my new financial years resolution (which, as a personal rule, has to be non-financial) is going to be to put more effort into wearing my pretty clothes on my days off. I have a pretty big wardrobe (contents, not physical space, sadly) and a lot of it only gets worn on a potential 2 days a week when I'm not working. So it's a shame that I so often just go with a pair of daggy jeans and a long sleeve tee. YOLO, as facebook would say, so I'm gunna dress purty.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Yes, yes we do.
Do other people do this? As the crocheting gets longer, so it doesn’t get more and more twisted with every time you change direction, you roll it up and loop another bit of yarn through it.
If I were a biscuit, I wouldn't be in the sweet or savoury sections. I'd be in the section with the smart cookies :P
Okay, maybe smart cookies wouldn't stay up till 5am crocheting and watching DVD commentaries. But that's only because cookies are inanimate objects, without brains, and therefore have no concept of DVDs or commentaries. Smart is relative. And cookies are delicious. Even though this is Australia, and we call them biscuits.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
A sad, sad day.
Is it possible that there is some kind of peak physical quilting condition? That we are like athletes in training, only without commentators, or sponsors, but that we end up with something prettier than a medal at the end?
I only ask because tonight I did about 2 hours quilting, and was going to do more, but I was starting to ache. The ironing, the cutting, the chain piecing, it was all just making me sore, so I stopped half-done. It would appear that lounging around for the last week watching True Blood has left me badly out of quilting-shape.
Granted, it's one of the most complicated designs I've ever done, in terms of having quiltmaths even I struggle to understand and some very odd points, but I have to admit it. I got lazy. I lost my edge.
Either that, or I'm right about the new fridge being evil and sending out gamma rays to weaken my super-quilting-powers.
I don't trust that fridge. It's too white.
R.I.P. old fridge. I miss you.
I only ask because tonight I did about 2 hours quilting, and was going to do more, but I was starting to ache. The ironing, the cutting, the chain piecing, it was all just making me sore, so I stopped half-done. It would appear that lounging around for the last week watching True Blood has left me badly out of quilting-shape.
Granted, it's one of the most complicated designs I've ever done, in terms of having quiltmaths even I struggle to understand and some very odd points, but I have to admit it. I got lazy. I lost my edge.
Either that, or I'm right about the new fridge being evil and sending out gamma rays to weaken my super-quilting-powers.
I don't trust that fridge. It's too white.
R.I.P. old fridge. I miss you.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Wine, Cheese and True Blood night
It's 5am, I'm in the pleasant place between tipsy and drunk, and I just wanna tell you all how much I love breadsticks, and that the choice between them and Ritz crackers and cheese is easy, (not that I don't love Ritz crackers and cheese) whereas the choice between Bill, Sam and Eric is hard. I know that 3 days ago I was in love with Bill, but a couple of hours ago I was in love with Sam, and then about a half an hour ago it was Godric (he's dead now) and now it's Eric, who, weirdly, looks a lot like Keith Urban sometimes.
As you can probably tell, Wine, Cheese and True Blood night is going well. Except for the bit where I've concluded I really need to stop trying to drink rosé, cause it tastes horrible, and switched to cider instead.
Whoop, in love with Sam again. I love being fickle for fictional fellas. And that's practically a tongue twister :)
As you can probably tell, Wine, Cheese and True Blood night is going well. Except for the bit where I've concluded I really need to stop trying to drink rosé, cause it tastes horrible, and switched to cider instead.
Whoop, in love with Sam again. I love being fickle for fictional fellas. And that's practically a tongue twister :)
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Snh, Snh, Snh.
In my favourite series of novels, Discworld, by Terry Pratchett, there is a character called the Death of Rats.
The name's pretty self explanatory.
Anyway, when he talks it's in Sᴍᴀʟʟ Cᴀᴘs and he says things like Squeak, Eek, and Ik and when he laughs it's written as Sɴʜ, Sɴʜ, Sɴʜ.
And for some reason, when it's all too big and too much, and a thousand words can't sum up the whole experience of being a human being, alive at this very moment, I think a little Sɴʜ, Sɴʜ, Sɴʜ pretty much sums it up. Because actually, it is pretty fucking funny.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
A random blog post about random things, randomly.
Yesterday, I ate an entire block of Cadbury Peppermint chocolate, except for two squares, which I put next to my computer screen, because that meant that I hadn't eaten a whole block.
I used to subscribe to Fat Quarterly, but after about a half dozen issues I decided it was a bit to cliquey* for my liking, especially since instead of being popular and planning the yearbook and the graduation ceremonies, I was off getting drunk in the arts buildings with the teachers. That's why I'm a big fan of GenQ now - because I suspect they would have been too. I put some money into their Kickstarter so my first issue is on the way, but in the meantime they have a challenge up - a few squiggly lines they want people to turn into a block - it's like Mr Squiggle but with fabric! And instead of Blackboard going "Oh hu-rry up..." we've got my mum going (at 4am) "God, haven't you gone to bed yet?"
Admittedly, they just wanted a block design, but that didn't take long, and I can't stand a hypothetical** so I did the maths and made it. I don't even know if it's actually submittable yet (I put pink both sides of one of the lines they had drawn, but there is still a seam there, which I think counts) so I'm not gunna post a whole picture: instead...
Trimmings are one of the prettiest things I throw into the bin.
I took a photo of this seam because it looks brilliant, and you'd never guess that the other 3 are horrible.
That's my two pinks next to one another. I could have made one of them orange, but I didn't want to. A well matched pink, yellow green and blue is all that it needs.
McDonald's have fish at the moment, to celebrate the Olympics. Just say no.
My leg has gone to sleep, before the rest of me has even gotten undressed for bed. Stupid leg.
*The Wikipedia article on cliques is fascinating, and I don't care that it says I am misusing the word.
**There was a TV show way back when on the ABC called Hypotheticals. I really liked that show, but that's the exception.
I used to subscribe to Fat Quarterly, but after about a half dozen issues I decided it was a bit to cliquey* for my liking, especially since instead of being popular and planning the yearbook and the graduation ceremonies, I was off getting drunk in the arts buildings with the teachers. That's why I'm a big fan of GenQ now - because I suspect they would have been too. I put some money into their Kickstarter so my first issue is on the way, but in the meantime they have a challenge up - a few squiggly lines they want people to turn into a block - it's like Mr Squiggle but with fabric! And instead of Blackboard going "Oh hu-rry up..." we've got my mum going (at 4am) "God, haven't you gone to bed yet?"
Admittedly, they just wanted a block design, but that didn't take long, and I can't stand a hypothetical** so I did the maths and made it. I don't even know if it's actually submittable yet (I put pink both sides of one of the lines they had drawn, but there is still a seam there, which I think counts) so I'm not gunna post a whole picture: instead...
Trimmings are one of the prettiest things I throw into the bin.
I took a photo of this seam because it looks brilliant, and you'd never guess that the other 3 are horrible.
That's my two pinks next to one another. I could have made one of them orange, but I didn't want to. A well matched pink, yellow green and blue is all that it needs.
McDonald's have fish at the moment, to celebrate the Olympics. Just say no.
My leg has gone to sleep, before the rest of me has even gotten undressed for bed. Stupid leg.
*The Wikipedia article on cliques is fascinating, and I don't care that it says I am misusing the word.
**There was a TV show way back when on the ABC called Hypotheticals. I really liked that show, but that's the exception.
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