Tuesday, February 4, 2014

A fevered brain.

I got sick over the weekend, but it didn't keep me from having thoughts and wanting to share them with you:

Saturday Thoughts
What the fuck with this snow?  I feel like I should go run around in it and enjoy it instead of complaining about it constantly, but you know what? Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so ABSENT YOURSELF, SNOW. JUST FOR A LITTLE WHILE.

That NY Times no-knead bread recipe is fucking ridiculously delicious. I am not going to lie, I made it twice in one week and begrudged sharing it with the husband. It is stupid good. Go make some. Now. Today. GO.

Sunday Thoughts
Bruno Mars did a nice job at the Super Bowl Half-Time Extravaganza. Of course, I'm a sucker for choreography and shiny jackets.

I miss Flea's stuffed animal head pants. And I'm a little sad/surprised no one rocked out with their cock out.

I missed the Coca Cola commercial, but caught the controversy. What the fuck? If you are upset about that [I finally saw it, and it tugged my bitter heartstrings] then you go straight to hell. Not my version of hell, where the fabulous people go. A Dante's Inferno version of hell. Or where Pat Roberston thinks people go. You go straight there and don't come back. [I love Jacquelyn Bisset's mom.]

Even the husband, who is markedly slow to rile up [I mean, he is married to me, right? That takes some phenomenal patience], lost it when I told him about the nutters who were pissed about the commercial. "Fuck those people, I hope they choke on their Pepsi and die!" is probably the nicest thing he had to say during his extended diatribe.

You can see why we're married, right?

Monday Thoughts
I started therapy with a new therapist. She seems ok. We'll see how it goes. I didn't have that instant connection, but that may have been the sinus and ear infection.

Is it weird that I'm worried about curing myself of some of my anxieties and phobias? Like I'm losing a part of myself that I don't particularly like, but has been there for a good long while? Like a mullet.

I picked up the latest Flavia de Luce book - are you reading these? They are great. Go read them. Now.

I'm finishing up Bring Up the Bodies [it's about Thomas Cromwell & Henry VIII & Anne Boylen], and I very much like it. HOWEVER, as I'm reading it, Lorde's Royals keeps going through my head, which I like the song, but it gets kind of annoying after a while. Particularly because my mind keeps misstating the lyrics as:
Let me be your ruler
You can call me cream cheese
And baby I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule, I'll rule.
Let me live that fantasy
It won't stop.


  1. Fuck those people, I hope they choke on their Pepsi. JUST AWESOME! You really are made for each other! !!

    Bruno rocked it. I want a shiny jacket. Not sure where I'd wear it. Maybe I could be Bruno for Halloween?

  2. I'd be okay being called your cream cheese. I also loved the gold lamé jackets with a sprinkling of half-naked chili peppers. And I SO get the fear of being cured. I've been feeling much better than I usually do at this time of year, which then made me wonder why the hell I was so whingy and unproductive every other winter and start to hate myself. Which is SORTA counterproductive, right? I would also like to cherrypick which neuroses they remove, because I think some of them just make me more interesting.

  3. I knew the members of RHCP wouldn't come out with their cocks out, but I'm a little disappointed that nobody performed in a diaper.

    I'm also a little disappointed in myself that I'll never have the body of a 50-something Anthony Kiedis or Flea.

    I've been big into my own bread lately, but hadn't heard of the no-knead recipe (I just throw my bread in the bread maker & worry about it later . . . I made the yummiest of banana breads from a "let me see what happens if I try this" rampage through my kitchen over the fury of bananas left to go overripe.

    I wanted to start a hashtag #fuckthepeoplethatusethefuckcokehashtag but that's like a full tweet in itself.

    I need to find a new therapist. For reals.

  4. I wouldn't stress about losing the mullet (anxiety). It's a time-suck at best, debilitating at worst. I don't know about the NYTimes bread, and probably shouldn't. I'm gonna call my laziness common sense and not google it. I liked Bruno Mars just fine, but was also disappointed RHCP weren't rocking their tube socks. Then again, it WAS cold.


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