Wedding Gift Idea!

Is this for real? 



I think that this blanket paired with a nice gift card to a Mexican restaurant would make for an incredible wedding/engagement gift. 

Yay for Jenna!

Happy graduation to Ms. Jenna, who graduates from Florida State this week, and who makes me feel very, very old.

Jenna is Tanya's younger sister, and was about 8 when I met her.  She's great.  She's funny.  She's wry.  She's smart as shit.  She's pretty and also has a tapeworm.  I love me some Jenna.  And little Jenna graduates from college this week with some science degree that I don't understand.

And I love her.

And I wish her the best.

Jenna, may you have a few years of being completely broke (if only to make you appreciate the value of a dollar).  May you drink irresponsibly and then responsibly. May you find a job in a field you love--a job that will sometimes make you cry because you care so much--but a job that is rewarding and makes you feel valuable.  May you get a dog and love it to the ends of the earth.  May you learn to cook massive amounts of food.  May you do better than all of us who came before you did, if only to say that you learned from our stupid mistakes.  May you find contentment and  happiness in life, and may you keep making us laugh with your antics. 

XOXO

Pot Roast

My mom wasn't so much into the cooking.  She had us, and she worked, and we were picky, and it was a big hassle.  She had a rotation of about 4 dinners that we had regularly (one of which was Kraft macaroni and cheese with cut up hot dogs) and two dinners that we had when company came over.  I always thought that cooking was a chore, and it would be a long time before I'd realize how awesome it is.

It was so bad, in fact, that one time I was at the grocery store with my parents when I was a kid, and I grabbed about eight cans of Campbell's chicken noodle soup and threw them in the cart, telling them that I was planning to make a pot of soup.

I did attempt to spread my culinary wings during college, when my roommates and I would cook dinner at the house, something that usually included pre-cooked chicken breasts (that were $5 a piece!), cheese, and tortilla chips.  And we were so proud!

And then when we moved to Savannah, Christina gave me a cookbook for Christmas, and it piqued my interest in cooking.  "I made this!" I'd exclaim after adding bacon to all manner of dishes.  "And it tastes good!"  It was around that time that we discovered Tums.  But it was a good first step.

In the last few years, our cooking skills have improved tremendously.  Not amazing, of course, but capable.  And we're always getting better and we're excited to try new recipes. Most of the things we make regularly, though, are incredibly simple.

I've resisted posting some of our more simple meals here because I feel like they're just common sense.  But, you know, they weren't common sense to the Mandy and Matt of three years ago, and they might not be common sense to everyone.  So we're going to bring out one of our favorite old-timey and not so good for you meals: pot roast.  (I ellipted for an hour tonight while watching the premieres of The Hills and The City, and now all I want is a big bowl of pot roast.  AN HOUR!)

There's a good chance that you already make pot roast and have a recipe that you love, but just in case, here's ours.  It's not fancy.  It's not hard.  But it is delicious.

Matt and Mandy's Favorite Pot Roast

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons olive oil
2 1/2-3 pounds chuck roast
1 cup chopped onion
3 cloves garlic, crushed
1 8 oz. can tomato sauce (we just use spaghetti sauce--seriously, not classy)
1 cup red wine (or more if you want)
Kosher salt
Black pepper
Potatoes (we usually do about 6 gold potatoes)
Baby carrots (a small bag)
Crushed red pepper to taste (we're usually pretty generous here)

Directions

1.  Heat oil in Dutch oven over medium heat.  Add beef.  Brown on all sides.  Remove roast and set on a plate or sheet of foil.

2.  Saute onions and garlic in Dutch oven until tender.  Add tomato sauce and wine.  Stir to blend.  Return beef to pot.  Add salt, pepper, and crushed red pepper.  Reduce to low heat.  Cover and simmer for 1 1/2 hours. 

3.  Add potatoes and carrots.  Cover and continue cooking for 1 hour or until vegetables are tender.

This pot roast is a little more beef stewy than others, and makes for some of the best leftovers around.

If I get started right now I can satisfy my current craving by 3 a.m. 

Do you have a favorite pot roast recipe?  What is it?

I Like Pina Coladas.

But I don't really like getting caught in the rain.  My hair gets all frizzy.

Why is this song so good?

I have a secret desire for Matt and I to join eHarmony just to see if it would match us.  I mean, by every other measure--and by that I mean Cosmopolitan's bedside astrologer and the Myers Briggs personality test--we are a perfect match.  He's the Leo to my Aries; he's the INTP to my ENTJ; he reads the directions of recipes while I chop stuff up; we both change lyrics of pop songs to be about Mitch.  Not to boast, but things on this end are good, content, interesting. 

But I know that Matt and I will never join eHarmony because it's a damned can of worms and we do possess at least a shred of common sense.*  Plus, what if it matched me up with George Clooney and Matt up with Beyonce and then we found ourselves in a pickle? 

Earlier tonight we wrote our own version of the pina colada song, and, not surprisingly, it had way too much to do with Mitch.



*I also won't find out my IQ score because I'm afraid that it won't be high enough to satisfy me.  Instead, it's likely a 75, and I'll have to go to some special school to learn how to re-tread tires.

American Ambassador

Last night Matt and I were watching a story on 60 Minutes about, basically, why some Muslims hate Americans.  (That was way too brief.  You can read about the whole thing here.)

So, the 60 Minutes lady asks a bunch of young Muslim kids, "I sense a lot of anti-Americanism.  Is that correct?"  And one of the Muslim kids responds, "Give us one reason why we should love America."  And Matt shouts out, "GEORGE CLOONEY!"

And, you know, his answer gets better and better the more you think about it.

So, on this glorious Monday morning, I give you pictures of our greatest American Ambassador, a Mr. George Clooney.

(Mr. Pitt is easy on the eyes as well.)

Ahhhh, now there's a way to start a week.

I Second That Emotion

This guy's got a point. Plus, it's always fun to see my boyfriend, Seth Meyers.



Mmmmmmmmmmm, Seth Meyers. . . Mmmmmmmmmmm, Samoas. . .

Cock Sighting

Today Matt and I were driving downtown to fetch a late Sunday lunch.  We hadn't even made it off of our street (the super ghetto part, no less) when we spotted a big, giant, fat rooster.  A rooster!  (Forgive the quality of the picture; I took it with my phone while driving.  Matt hates when I do that.)

Keep in mind, we live in the city.  It's not like when I was in high school and would look out the living room window to see a cow or a horse giving birth.  We don't live in some kind of farmer rainforest, so the sight of a random rooster is, well, unexpected.

Me:  I think our neighbors are having cock fights!
Matt:  Or, maybe their alarm clocks are broken.

On the Upswing

I've spent the last nine or so hours being a grouch, but that is no more.  I have myself a jug of Simply Grapefruit juice, a new bottle of Sally Hansen's Complete Salon Manicure nail polish, and MTV is playing The Hills from the very beginning! 

And, as though that were not enough. . .I found something pretty amazing today while perusing Amazon for $5.05 more in purchases (ended up buying a toy for Mitch) so that I would qualify for FREE SUPER SAVER SHIPPING. (!) 

But, first, some back story.

Mitch is a dingo.  Dingoes eat babies.  Everyone knows that.

But it's considered poor form to feed actual human babies to your dog (or so I've heard), so I thought it would be fun to get a baby-shaped cookie cutter for his homemade dog treats.

First, I found this one:

I got this one at a kitchen store downtown, but it didn't seem to have the shock factor that a more authentic baby shape would lend.

But tonight I found this one:

Much better, wouldn't you say?  I would really enjoy pulling one of these babies (ha!) out of the treat tin for Sir Mitchell.

But wait.  It gets ever better and more disturbing.  Because after I found choice #2, I found this one, the most haunting cookie cutter that has ever existed:

Ummmmm, fetus-shaped cookies?  Gross.  Also, I am buying one.  Like, now.

Fireworks!

I love them, but I will admit that every time they start I initially believe they're a drive-by shooting.

Mitch hates them.  He never gets past the drive-by shooting part.  He usually barks and howls throughout the show.

Now, here's what they look like from the Carport Bistro.

Man, is it hard for me to get good pictures of fireworks!

My favorite fireworks are the cracklin' sizzlin' ones.  I love that sound.  What are your favorites?

I was going to tell you some fun story about fireworks, but I'm grumpy because I woke up feeling like shit for the fifth day in a row, and it's not even because of wine.  Plus, I'm off to serve Savannah's finest for the next few hours, which means that I'm missing some of Savannah's fun Saturday events, like Sidewalk Arts Festival.  Oh well. 

This day's probably going to get worse before it gets better.  Maybe if I start it off with some Chick-Fil-A it'll change direction?

Just Say No to Drugs

How cute is this little guy?

These furry little buddies have been all over around the here, and for some reason they remind me of this book that my teacher read to our class in third grade called Bobby Butterfly.  (Newspaper article about the book, circa 1986., Buy the one copy I could find on the interwebs here for $95.  Eek!)  Brief synopsis: cute little caterpillar succumbs to peer pressure, becomes an addict, and comes out of his metamorphasis as a deformed butterfly.  It was really sad, and perhaps, somewhere far down in my psyche, is the reason that I don't do drugs (excepting, of course, boxes of wine). 

So that, combined with the fact that it's illegal, is why I have yet to smoke pot.  (Also, I'm kind of paranoid.  Every time I walk through those beeper things at a store I'm afraid that I'll have accidentally dropped something into my purse and that I'm going to be hauled off to jail, even though I've never shoplifted--ever.  What the hell?)

Oh, and I won't be selling drugs any time soon, either, because I've seen Weeds and Breaking Bad.  From these masterpieces I've learned that:

1. It might seem like it's easy to sell drugs but it's harder than it looks.
2. Large sums of money come in rolls.
3. DEA agents are all over the place.
4. Selling drugs is really stressful, and causes one to become a bad decision-maker.
5. There are some drug dealers who are really mean and who will try to kill you.
6. It's a damned slippery slope.

Guess I'm just not cut out for a life of crime.  I get stressed out watching previews for horror films.

To sum up:  just say no to drugs (the sale of and the consumption of).  I read that on the back of a Lemonheads box.

Hey!  It's the weekend!  What are you doing?  Drugs?

Phone Pictures

I'm a cough drop addict. 

So is Mitch.

Any time I am eating a cough drop at home, this is what I see.

Damn spoiled dog. 

Also, because I'm being super productive today (and by super productive, I mean that I slept until 1:00 and ate four pieces of leftover pizza while watching the news and some horrible Jessica-Simpson-Goes-to-Japan-and-Acts-Like-a-Moron show), I decided that it was high time to sort through stuff on my phone.  So, on this very exciting Thursday, I give you a year in phone pictures (mostly of that spoiled dog).

1.  Grandma on her Blackberry.

I love this.  Here's my Grandma on a gorgeous summer day, lounging on her back porch, swinging and watching videos of cats on YouTube on her new Blackberry.  And the dog under the swing?  Why is he so cute?

2.  Fletcher.

Oh, aching uterus!  This was one of our first times meeting Fletcher.  I can't remember if we turned his ears inside out of if that happened while he ran around like a maniac.  It doesn't matter, though, because he has one of the cutest little dog faces.  And he's about ten times bigger than that now.

3.  Back in the Day Bakery meal.

Rosemary chicken salad sandwich and an old-fashioned cupcake.  Mmmmmmmmmm.  This was one day last summer when I decided that Mitch deserved to go downtown and see the sights.  About thirty seconds in, I realized that I'd made a horrible mistake, but was so excited about this food that I suffered through my psychopathic and racist dog harrassing every person who walked by.

4.  Bethy.

I took this picture in Olivier's parents' basement, right after talking to Becky on the phone.  Becky was devastated because she had pneumonia and was not able to go to the wedding.  We called her from the reception, and sent her this picture via text.  That weekend was amazing, but kind of bittersweet because I knew how sad Becky was that she couldn't be there.

5.  Cat at the vet's.

Took Mitch to the vet in December to get a heartworm test.  He's not a big fan of going to the vet, and while we waited for the results of the test in the lobby, Mitch discovered that there was a cat in this cage.  He barked; the cat hissed; I cussed.  It was less than fun.

6.  Maureen and Mitch.

When Maureen and Brian came to Savannah over New Year's, Mitch was not terribly generous with his couch.  But at least he'll let people use him as a pillow.

7.  Papers to grade.

Poetry portfolios?  Apparently I am a masochist. 

8.  Walk to Daffin Park.

Savannah has some beautiful parks, and lucky for us, this one's only a few blocks away from our house.  Mitch loves the long walks, and loves to roll around in the freshly-cut grass (and stain his face green).  I love being able to see fireworks from my living room window on weekends. Daffin Park is also home to the oldest minor leage baseball stadium in the country.  Babe Ruth played there.  That's pretty cool.

9.  Freedom Tickler?

Are you kidding me, gas station bathroom in South Carolina?!  This makes me want to go to Target, and to protest wars, and to eat some French toast.  Crazy ass people and their fake patriotism. 

10.  Cutest thing ever.

Blurry, but ridiculously cute.  I'll give him as many cough drops as he wants.

Cupcake Kitchen

I'm not terribly good at window treatments (or home decorating in general--like I've mentioned before, our house is slightly more sophisticated than a dorm room).  I'm not good at figuring out how to make curtains look good, and I'm way too cheap to invest money in good ones.  I'll deal with it.

But I have been looking for some kind of curtain for our kitchen window, mostly because we've had new neighbors move in next door and our houses are REALLY close together.  When I stand at the kitchen sink and look out the kitchen window, I'm essentially staring into an eight-year old girl's window.  Fortunately, she has curtains.  (But the other day I was pacing around the driveway chatting away on the phone when she stood right in her window, behind those curtains, and stared at me.  This kid's like eight, and has apparently watched a lot of scary movies.  I almost shit my pants.) 

So I want something to put in the window for those times I do dishes topless (which I hardly ever do), and to protect me from the creepy little git next door.  (I jest; she's probably fine.)

I was going to use the fun fabric that I found at IKEA, but that would 1.) require some sewing technique, and 2.) be really busy-looking.  Plus, I couldn't figure out exactly where to cut into the print. 

Crisis averted.

When Cassie came over last night to wolf down some Domino's (yeah, pizza tracker!) and to develop an addiction to MTV reality television, she was bearing gifts--super super cute cupcake kitchen towels from IKEA.  !!!!!!

They're fun, and all a little different. 

And we had an  idea.

IKEA cupcake kitchen towel curtains.  Let's do it.

So today I stopped by my local Target (because apparently my body will cease to function if I do not go there at least 6 times per week) and picked up some of those little curtain clips.

Now, I should have ironed these first, but check out how fun!

They're like the sassy first cousins to this cupcake collage I hung in the kitchen a few weeks back:

Aaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnd. . .now I'm hungry.

Enjoy your Thursday.  I'll be spending my Thursday at home, eating yogurt and ice cream, because apparently trying to talk over thirty ninth graders at a time about Shakespeare while they chatter away will make an already-sore throat feel even worse.  It's either that or Ebola.

Haste Makes Dead

What the hell is this?*

Now, from what I understand, this is a movie about some girl who answers letters that are left in some courtyard in Verona, Italy.  Supposedly this is some Romeo and Juliet love courtyard, and these people leave letters seeking advice from Juliet about love.

Now this is my problem. 

Juliet is an idiot.

Romeo is an even bigger idiot.

She'd have been better off with Paris.

I read this play every year, several times a year, and every time I read it I hate these characters even more.  The work itself is fantastic, but Romeo and Juliet are just so grating with their stupidity and haste.  I'm kind of glad they die at the end. 

So, yeah, let's seek advice from Juliet, a fourteen-year-old who married a guy she met the night before, a guy who was madly in love with her cousin until he crashed a party and met her.  Oh yeah, and then he killed her cousin and got himself banished and then killed himself.  A real prize you've got there, Jules!

And you, Romeo?  Couldn't wait a hot minute, could you?  Dummy.

As you can tell, I'm a real romantic.  Or maybe I'm just reeling from the hours and hours of watching knocked up 16-year old pregnant morons.

*As much as I will kvetch about this movie and its premise, there is a 134% chance that I will watch it one Saturday night on HBO while Matt is working--just like I do with that damned Sex and the City movie (which I always pledge never again to watch when Carrie asks longingly "Will I ever laugh again?"  BARF!), Forgetting Sarah Marshall (which is actually good), or Center Stage (It was a one-night stand, Jodi!).

Acoustic "Hey Ya!"

Two of my favorite things: whiny boys with guitars and "Hey Ya!" 

This and That

Life has been pretty slow around these parts, if only because my current obsession with watching 16 and Pregnant is rapidly causing my brain cells to evaporate.  (But, seriously?  What's wrong with these girls?  What's wrong with their parents?  What's wrong with their boyfriends?  WHY AREN'T WE SLIPPING BIRTH CONTROL INTO SCHOOL LUNCHES??)

So, unless you want to hear about adventures in grading papers (which is almost as bad for the brain as watching 16 and Pregnant) or doing laundry, then I really don't have much to share at this juncture.  Wouldn't be prudent.  

Here's what I've got:

• Got Cassie hooked on 16 and Pregnant as well.  Between the show and the insane commercials that aired throughout, Cassie felt like she was in an alternate universe.  It was pretty fun to watch. 
• Mitch is still the cutest thing of all time.  No surprises there.  He is currently snuggling with me on the couch.  He freaked out earlier today when I was watching 16 and Pregnant and one of the girls was screaming during her really painful contractions.
• I keep wanting to make those strawberry shortcake cookies again, but I'm afraid that I'll get as fat as those girls on 16 and Pregnant.
• Getting pretty excited about the return of The City and The Hills.  I love to ellipt during those shows; hell, they're almost as disturbing as 16 and Pregnant.
• I have a sore throat.  I think it's from yelling at the tv whilst watching 16 and Pregnant.

And I think I might actually be getting sick.  I've been taking my temperature frequently, using both of my thermometers.  I have two because Caitie sent me one after hearing me complain about how my thermometer was broken.  In truth, just because a thermometer does not say that I have a fever when I want proof of how sick I feel, it does not necessarily mean that the thermometer is broken.  Shit.

I should go now, though, because I've only got twenty minutes before the finale of 16 and Pregnant comes on. 

Have you watched this ingenius show?  Is there some meeting I can attend to help fight the addiction?

Happy Happy!

Happy fourteenth birthday to my tiny little baby sister, Clover.  What a fireball you are turning out to be!  (Not shocking.)

And happy second anniversary [tomorrow] to Hugh and Cassie.  Hope you're celebrating in style, and that Hugh makes that Zoolander face all day.

 
(Photo from H&C's awesome photographer, Geoff.)

SNL Charades!

Last night I was watching one of those SNL: A Look Back on How Important and Influential We Are shows, and I was thinking to myself, "Man oh man.  SNL sure does like to pat itself on the back."  (Full disclosure, so do I.  You should see how well I minced garlic tonight.  I have Hung-like knife skills!)  But, you know, I'm okay with SNL being a little into itself, because that shit's funny 65% of the time.  And when it's really funny, it's worth putting up with that Gilly sketch (formerly known as Mary Catherine Gallagher).  So I'll deal.

The show was also tolerable because it played some of my favorite skits from the last few years. (Justin Timberlake being Beyonce's backup dancer, Mark Wahlberg talks to animals, Laser Cats, etc.)  Unfortunately, I couldn't find good clips of these online (is this what that writer's strike was all about?), so you'll just have to rely on your memory.

Not long ago, Matt was flipping through channels and came across Jimmy Fallon's show, with Tina Fey as the guest, and they were playing charades against another very funny pair.  Hint: one of these people is my SNL boyfriend, and is the next big thing.

It's Saturday.  Watch; enjoy; play charades.



But if you try to steal Seth Meyers away from me I will fight you with a knife.

Artsy Fartsy

Man, I wish I was more artsy.  I'm not.  I'm not musical, either. (Unless you want to count my uncanny ability to predict what songs obnoxious drunk people will sing at karaoke.)

 Everything I know about art I learned in Randy Richardson's AP European History class (and he lied a lot) and an art history course at JMU taught by a guy who reminded me of Will from Will & Grace.  My art knowledge is far superior to Matt's, though, I think because he's colorblind and retarded when it comes to anything having to do with spatial relations.  It's nice to have another category that I'll be able to dominate Matt in while watching Jeopardy! (other categories that I dominate: the Bible, fashion, Olympic cities.  And he owns me in pretty much everything else.).  When in doubt, I like to guess Gauguin.

My favorite piece of art is The Thinker, only because I saw it when I was seventeen (and on assignment for previously-mentioned Randy Richardson) and went to the Baltimore Museum of Art with my mom.  When we walked into the room with The Thinker, I was in awe.  First of all, that thing's pretty big.  Second, it looks WAY more real than you would think.  I kept standing so that my face was right under his fist, looking up, getting freaked out, and then running away.  I did that about ten times, and then my mom was embarrassed and made me leave the room.

This video reminds me of that time Maureen and I and some other friends went to the National Gallery, and she made us walk all around that damned museum just to find her favorite painting, Mound of Butter.  After walking around for about two hours, we asked one of the guides where we could find it.  Oh yeah, we couldn't, because that shit was in storage.

Here's a game: how many of the paintings in this video can you identify? (artists will work, too)

Annnnnnnnnnnnd. . .GO!

I Am Engorged with Venom.

No, not really.  Although I did go to the Victory Drive Kroger at 8:00 tonight, and if that experience doesn't cause one to hate the world then I don't know what will.  I want to send Jamie Oliver to that store to criticize people for the lack of veg in their carts. 

But back to Glee. 

Was it just us, or were there too many songs in this one?  Geez oh Pete!  There were three full-length songs in the first twenty minutes.  Shooooooooooot.  Matt lamented that perhaps the show was devolving into a musical with just a little bit of plot instead of a dramedy with a little bit of music.  Any thoughts on that?

And what did you think about the girls' dresses in the "Hello, Goodbye" number?

They made me think of these dresses:

And that made me smile, and made me forget all about Kroger.