Real Cowgirls Do it One-Handed

4 times.  1 handed.  While progressively getting drunker - much like my camera woman - each time lasted the average or longer than the useless bints using both.

Sure it was the one standing at the end, but that bull is my bitch. Inner thighs (and oddly one shin) may be black and blue but those are badges of honour!

(This actually happened last month but I would be remiss not to jot it down at all.  Since I'm here now and all…)

"Any interest in rodeo pub, I'm informed by a poster there is a mechanical bull?"
"Be there in 10."

Day 5

"May" have snapped at a random Asian I had never met in the office opposite us, "No one believes you're blond!"  Then just walked away.

...What? It's true.  No matter how carefully he applies those hi- and low-lights he can never win that game.

My goodness, is it possible this detox-cleanse is affecting my mood?

The hallucinations have gone down but by 14:00 so has the will to stay awake.

Total time at work spent looking up recipes and fantasizing: probably about 2 hours.  (Panettone French toast: did you know that was a thing?  My god...)

Even though I can't have any yet I couldn't wait - just baked EVERYthing.  Peanut butter & strawberry jam (plus actual strawberries cut up) muffins; banana-chestnut cookies with cinnamon and pecans.  Most are iced with spicy (chili flakes) chocolate ganache icing.

Time spent using aforementioned recipes: 0.00

Oh, and I may have had a couple shots of vodka... eat me.  Potato, vegetable!

That Crying Sound You Hear

So after being the sort of ill all Sunday where I actually agreed to trying a detox/cleanse... Well long story short, in the rabbit hole.


Day 1:  "I WANT TO KILL EVERYONE.  Need...meat...and lattes..."  Have immediately concluded there is nothing natural about this.  Have chosen not to make gross veggie smoothies on the first day as a way to "wade into it", just downing them au naturale. Luckily I'm allowed spices.


Day 2:  "How do vegetarians(/vegans) LIVE like this?  I want to shoot myself!"  Constantly hungry and irritable, never doing this during a work week again.  Funny how those qualities aren't business friendly... Is it okay to smoke during a cleanse?  I feel now would be a good time to take up smoking.


Day 3:  Wailed over a box of cookies, argued that vodka is from potatoes and therefore indeed a vegetable.  Ready to crack - violently - at any time.  Just barely kept on track by outside influences.  They seem to think I should be thankful, I'm leaning more towards bloodlust.  Pretty sure when I'm done this betrayal of my stomach I'm going to spend an inordinate amount of time in the kitchen cooking and baking ALL the things!


Day 4:  ...Holy crap, it's day four?  Life is ashambles, but have reached a "tolerable" medium with the meatless bouts of delirium.  Was watching ads for work and one of them featured a giant gingerbread cookie running around...was immediately turned on.  Like whoa; you've no idea.
Still no smoothies on the horizon.  Noticed my friends are in fact comprised of fleshy meat bags.  Considering the implications...

The weird silver-lining I noticed is that since my body's so weak from lack of meats and alcohol I'm usually passing out by 22:00 (as opposed to 01:00).  This is the most sleep I've gotten in months!  ...It's weird.

Massive.

Inspired by my brother's frequent comments to me that I "should have an app!" based on my random mass-texts that are obviously necessary for the people in my life.  So basically it'd be Twitter (which, incidently I have, but almost never cross-post), but I'd be the only one you could follow, or something.  I've yet to explain to him why this isn't likely to fly, instead just taking the compliment.  Here's some of the joy you're missing out on by not being in my contacts list (excluding picture messages), going as far back as...two months (when my phone crashed):

So I just got back tired from the gym... Long story short, takes me 2 minutes to realise I put the computer mouse in the spice rack thinking it's cinnamon.

"Why do you keep saying 'date'? What is that, do people still do that? What are you: from the 60s?" - Mom to me

On 3 hours sleep, just took a break at work; went to the washroom and couldn't find my own underwear.  That I'm wearing... So yay for today.

Said it before: Everything's better on the dancefloor.  And when my iPod does right EVERYwhere is my dancefloor.

Just made a pale saleswoman very uncomfortable by insisting there's a difference between jeans for white butts and butts of colour.  She finally broke and shrieked "I have a big ass!" ...She apparently couldn't tell the difference between round and just fat either.

Standing on a train near someone who smells like PANCAKES.  The delicious sort! I want to get romantically cannibalistic with their head.

Haha!  Doctor called it: tonisilitis AND strep.  So close to a hattrick...

Handicap washrooms: a reward for having a lazy body? Take them for those of us that make the effort to be fully functional, for justice!

This may be the fever-hallucinations talking but I have a reasonable fear Katy Perry wants to shoot Me out of a cannon...

A fork just dropped out of my sweater... What.

"The best thing about fetuses is they can't say 'no'." - Izzy

Face on, dressed to kill, scoring 10... I'd be dignified if only I could stop dancing in transit.

I'm mesmerized by the ass of the woman standing in front of me.  Everytime she shifts it's like wet clay moving in a bag.  That can not be right...

On subway between Rosedale and Bloor (outdoor stretch of track thankfully).  Power is completely CUT.  Rush-hour crowded... Ugh, I'm taking out as many as I can.
 
Ooo, we got lights back.  No one's yet to fart on my end of the car...
[Special mention: response from my older brother, "FART ALL THE CARS!"]

Just saw my first house with Christmas lights up.  Seriously?  [Dated Nov. 6]

AAAAA! Hyoerventilating, we can't handle this!  "They're zombies-", "No! They're strippers!", "They're zombie strippers!"

Being SO HUNGRY I left the office with EVERY INTENTION to buy food.  ...I have returned with new boots.

Just sped by a sombrero on the train track.  Looking for the rest of the Mexican...

INDIAN LADY-MIDGET!

Big black guy next to me on the train has the same Kim Possible notification for his texts that I do.  It keeps psyching me out.

Deal.

It's a catchy song and goddamnit, if I want to sing that I'm a hungry hippo in a eating race I will - and there's nothing you can do about it!  I will shake and wiggle and make up the lyrics when I forget them because it is my right.

How to Experience The O of Angels in Your Mouth

[Picture intensive entry.  All taken from my phone, so forgive that.]

Step 1:  The dough.  Here we have a chocolate chip-oatmeal texture going.  Gluten-free, proper butter.  Already delicious.  Do not consume before recipe is done or you'll have no cookies.

(I'm told this looks like vomit.  The similarities end there, I promise.)

Step 2:  Bacon.  Cut that sucker up, slices to chunks (more or less the size of the chocolate chips).

2a:  Fry it up so you don't end up poisoning yourself.

Step 3:  Mix the dough and bacon chunks together, then divide into cookie sizes on baking tray.

3a:  Taste for "quality control".

Step Hot: Put in oven for 12-ish minutes.  (Depending on preference of crisp-to-gooey.)

Step Important:  Ration out, add ice-cream.

Another Step:  Devour.  Savour.  Change underwear.  You're welcome.

They can be made as proper ice-cream sandwiches if one isn't lazy/impatient.  Unlike us.  Otherwise, the spirit (read: melty-orgasm-delicious) is still all there.

Does Not Want to Catch 'Em All

I've concluded I resent the phrase "caught a cold". Generally when one catches something it implies they had the desire, made the effort to. Yet when one catches a cold that is - more often than not - not the case at all. Rather it is the cold, I think, that catches you. A cold can catch, tickle, ravage, and wipe you out. You on the other can, can not do that to the cold. So why on Earth would someone ask me if I caught one, like it was something to actively try to achieve?

And then there's that final insult to injury of congestion, which can make a normally civilized person suffer the indignity of being forced to become a mouth breather. Further, if one is not in the habit of breathing through their mouth when they sleep they find they'll end up with very little sleep as the body keeps reminding them, "You're not breathing at all, wake up!"

Nothing can make an adult - of any age - feel quite like a child again like getting sick.