Drinking at the Fountain of Satan

I enjoy coffee. Reeeeeaaaaaalllly. Love it. Every form of it. I am enjoying the Lite Lattes at Dunkin's. I like a cup brewed at home. I enjoy small and fun cafes with wacky decor and interesting reading materials. If only the Diesel Café was here, or I was there, I would have made it my home.

But my greatest sin is my love of the mighty Starbucks. Oh, if it were a golden idol, the bruised knees I would suffer! There are a few select beverages that I adore there, and I can walk in and order them with the tone in my voice that implies both that I know what I want and that I am so cool that it bores me. I don't mean for it to come out that way, but the ordering system makes it so. I have been assimilated.

This week, I ordered custom rechargeable Starbucks cards for both Lisa and myself. thus is my addiction. I need a support group, but don't they serve shitty coffee at those things?

My Card!




Want one?

On Stress

money work health issues money new refrigerator money sleepless nights money people at work who make me want to go ballistic and shove a makeshift shank made out of a credit card and some scotch tape into their eyeball just deep enough to puncture without entering the skull and killing them money money heart monitor that most likely will not show what it needs to because it will happen right before it's put on and right after it's taken off and my doctors will begin to wonder if i even have a heart but i know i do because it stutters every so often to remind me it's there and taunt me with the knowledge that it thinks it's better than i am and doesn't need me money damned car drives funny with a thumping on the right side but nothing apparent causing it and we already sunk close to 1000 into it in the last 3 months money almost had a part time job money didn't get that part time job money still looking for a part time job that doesn't include gyrating on a sweat soaked stage and tipping over on huge clear plastic stiletto hooker boots with a cigarette hanging from my lips while wearing an old mu mu fashioned into a g-string because I can't afford to buy one money worrying about family money balancing work with school with house and family and finding more work and money and coffee. i need more coffee.

On Flaurs, Hayer and Gawd

We recently had a visit from my aunt and uncle from Kentucky. It was great to see them, but sometimes I forget what it sounds like to come from the bible belt area, and my aunt has the BEST accent being from Louisville. I also pretty much forget that Lisa has an accent. When she speaks, it sounds normal (well, content aside) to me. However, when these two women were in the same room, I swear I needed some sort of Star Trek-esque device that could decode alien languages. One night, we were having a conversation at my parents' house and it became very apparent that I live with a grammar vigilant Briton, and that my aunt has had her language processor surgically altered to "Southern" at some point in her life. The edited version of the night follows:

Aunt Jane: Oh mah GAWD! They were setten on the grayond and I took a picture and when it came out - all you saw were these blue flaurs!!

Lisa: I'm sorry, what again?

Aunt Jane: What? The flaurs?

Lisa: Oh flares? Like road flares?

Me: I don't think so...

Lisa: Fliers? Flies? Wait, what?

Aunt Jane: Flaurs. Blue flaurs.

Me: Flowers?

Aunt Jane: Well, yes, that's what I said!

Lisa: Oh my God, that was flowers? There should be more syllables!

Aunt Jane: That's what we do in the South. We add them to some words and take them out of others. Like, "brush your hayer. hay-er. 2 syllables. Not hair. But Flowers? They're just flaurs."

Cut to me on the floor laughing because I was certain at this point that my father didn't understand one word that had been said for the prior 20 minutes between the both of them. Oddly enough, I think they understood each other really well.

Also during the stay, we talked a little history and politics and such. Not much, because I hear that kind of thing can ruin a family, but I was giggling when the subject of the Civil War came up and my father tried to zing Lisa by saying:
"The only thing you learned about our civil war and our history was through books!" to which she calmly replied that, indeed - so did he. Silly boy. As if he fought in the Civil War and learned that way. He looks good for being that old!

So, here's the family.

Thunder Heaven

So, tonight's weather has been exceptional, and would normally put me in a very good mood. There's nothing like weather you can feel with all of your senses. Touch, taste, smell, see, hear and for some people - other senses too. Girlyman has this great song where my favorite lines are:

"The sky smells like water and the air tastes like steel
If you were a storm, this is how you would feel
Still and dark all night
With great flashes of light" ~ "Hey Rose"

So this night would have been amazing if it hadn't been for Thunder. When I was moving the car in the driveway, I noticed something in my neighbor's driveway in a puddle. It was still, grey, flattened and my stomach knew what he was. I couldn't leave him there, as I feared that he would suffer the endless parade of truck tires that enter and exit that driveway every day. I knew he was long gone from his little bunny body - but it still doesn't feel right. So I moved him to a quiet section under some bushes outside of their property and said a few Buddhist words for him. Not a consolation really, but I am hoping he is hopping to another life of lessons.

In his honor - a silly picture of Thunder in Bunny Heaven.

Introducing Susie

This is Alice's cousin, in a twisted, Southern kind of way. We rescued Susie from the same shelter that Alice came from, because it seemed like all the signs of fate were telling us to. Barbara's Mom is called Sue (Dad calls her Susie), she looks just like Boo (Barbara's old cat who sadly passed away three years ago), and is missing her right eye. When she was just a kitten, although she's only around 2 now, some young boys poked that eye out with a stick. As a consequence, she is extremely skittish, particularly around men. That said, these last few months have seen a notable difference in her behavior. She is becoming more brazen, more willing to be around loud noises (although still not thrilled), and will actually let you pet her now. She has the cutest little silent-meow, which if you didn't know better sounds like a hiss. The vets think that she screamed so much when she lost her eye that she damaged her vocal chords.

Susie lives with Mom and Dad, because Alice just isn't really safe for other cats to be around (and definitely suffers from Only Child Syndrome), and was kind of thrust upon them, but I don't think they regret it for a second!

What Is Really In My Brain

The results from the many tests and probes of my doctors are in, and I wanted to share them with you all. I think it explains a lot.

A 'Normal' Brain


My Brain


Soooooo - as you can see by the diagrams of that part controls what, and what they actually found in mine, I'm pretty well damned. Oh well. Stay tuned for further results.

Eggs and Guatemalans

In which we headed to Egypt

This weekend saw us joined in New Jersey by the delightful Miss Tinita, which made Captain Alice (and us) very happy. There was breakfast, chatting, laughing, a movie, and above all else, coffee.

Yesterday morning Miss Tinita showed up on our doorstep, closely followed by Mom and Aunt Janie. I, in my one true display of domesticity, baked the only thing I can bake, Egg and 'Bacon' muffins. Slightly deviated from the recipe in the book, here I go:

Gazelle's Egg and 'Bacon' muffins
Yield: 12 muffins
10 Eggs (I use 2½ cups of Egg Beaters)
10 oz Canadian Bacon
Cheese. I don't know how much, just sprinkle!
and of course, a little bit of:



What? You don't like that? Fine, then try this instead:



Preheat oven to 350°. Mix together eggs, bacon and spike. Grease 12-holding muffin pan with PAM butter spray, then spoon the mixture into each individual muffin-hole. Cover with shredded/grated cheese (I use the 2% Kraft, either Mexican 4-Cheese, or Cheddar). Put in oven and bake for 25 minutes, or until yummy-looking.

So that's my recipe. Try it, nom it, let me know what you thought.

Dad and Uncle Jack showed up soon afterwards, and we all sat down to a nommy breakfast of the afore-mentioned muffins, and some chocolate muffins a là Aunt Janie and Mom's recipe book, along with some coffee cake, and of course what breakfast is complete without coffee itself?! In its purest form, it is sweet, sweet nectar of the gods.

We all sat and chatted over brekkie, and had a wonderful time. Aunt Janie and Uncle Jack got the tour of casa del Gazeligie, then Mom and Dad took them home to prepare spare ribs a là Famous Cole Recipe Book. Barbara and I took our beloved Tinita off to see Mamma Mia, which was just a riot. Seriously recommended. Afterwards was a necessary stop to Starbucks. I'm so in love with their Mint Mocha Chip Frappuccino Light, that I could probably quite happily just move into our nearest one. What day can possibly compare to such a perfect one as yesterday?

When Canadians Get Mean

I didn't think it was possible, but Senorita LaSon sent me this pic she snapped while on a binge shopping spree in Toronto this weekend. I was shocked. I was horrified. The European exploitation apparently has no boundaries. What's next? A discount French baby market in Montreal?

See for yourself.

Sick Note

I can trace a few amazing memories back to a few amazing people, and one was Lady LaSon, who once sent me this via email many years ago. I find it to be really apropos right now, so I am sharing.

The End of Lohan Time

I am forcing myself to return to work tomorrow. As you know (if you read this blog regularly, and I know I am flattering myself here) I have been disgustingly ill. I have been icky ill to the extent that I was able to create discomfort by discussing it with the ever-British Lisa. Nothing makes her squirm more than my verbose and detailed play-by-play of mucus horrors and other bodily functions.

Even though I feel way under par, I have a hard time not being at work. I know it's an odd concept, and usually I'd dig a day off, but this kind of sick makes it preferable to actually be healthy and not working. So, even though I'm not feeling even close to 100%, I'm heading in tomorrow to give it my best. I know I can't contaminate anyone else (even though that could be fun)so I can cough and hack my way through the day guilt free. Why would I take off Monday through Thursday and go in on a Friday? I just can't justify it. If I am finally fever free, it's my duty to get my ass into work. I don't like leaving people hanging, or putting extra responsibility on others. I swear I would have made an awesome Catholic in another life.

The bonus that makes this week worth it? If I can feel well enough, I FINALLY get to see my Aunt Jane and Uncle Jack from Louisville, KY. My dad's sister, and I haven't seen them in what I've calculated to be about 17 years. That makes me feel like a real shithead. I know I didn't even live near here, let alone Kentucky, but these are amazing people, and I really miss them. I'm glad to be seeing them this week. I am hoping to wrangle a southern breakfast from them before they leave. That would rock hard. She liked the book Lisa and I created for my mom this year. If yer interested, it's a family cookbook, and we compiled the loose scraps of paper mom had been using as a recipe book and had it published with photos and everything. Really posh. Take a look. It's available to anyone who wishes to purchase it.

I'm going to bed, after I give Lisa some bodily function related bed time stories.