Martha Stewart is an Epic Win

30 09 2009
Um. That coconut its own milk. CREEPY! (Also, I find it totally hilarious because I am a 12 year old boy. The end.)

Um. That coconut its own milk. CREEPY! (Also, I find it totally hilarious because I am a 12 year old boy. The end.)

And I will tell you why: With the exception of her red velvet cupcakes, every fucking one of the recipes I’ve tried of hers has been UH-MAY-ZING. Also, she made her own beehive. WITH BEES. AND MADE HER OWN HONEY. AND THEN MADE STUFF OUT OF SAID HONEY. These little Black Bottom Coconut Bars are perfect (uh, if you love coconut. Which I do. A lot.). They’re fudgy brownie on the bottom and a fucking coconut macaroon-type dealie on top that has been TOASTED. Are you covered in drool yet? I am (but that’s another matter for another day). These are super easy and can take less than an hour if you are efficient like I am, meaning I totally could have made these for El in addition to the cupcakes I made for my sister for her belated birthday gift when I was at my parents’ house this past weekend. Lo? EPIC FAIL. (Or Epic Win, if you count laziness as  a Win. I do.)  The only adjustment I made was using 1/2 cup of sugar instead of 3/4 cup. I mean, if you’re using sweetened coconut, it seems rather ridiculous to have ALL that sugar. (WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME???) Ahem. So go, click on the link, make the damn things, and don’t say I never did anything nice for you!


Baby Be-Bop by Francesca Lia Block

30 09 2009


Few things chap my ass more than censorship and book banning – especially in libraries.  The library is one of my favorite places in the whole wide world and has been since I was a child.  I was raised in a fairly religious (fairly = crazy) house and there were plenty of topics my mother did not want me to read about.  You know what she did?  She didn’t let me check out books on those topics.  She, you know, parented me.  I remember checking out a book called Sand Witch when I was probably 8 – and didn’t realize that “Sand Witch” was completely different from “sandwich” (why I wanted to read a book about sandwiches is beyond me).  Magic is the Devil and when my mom looked at what I’d gotten from the library, she made me return it.  Easy peasy lemon squeezy – my introduction into the secular world was pushed back a couple of years.  The fact that these dimwitted fucktards can’t handle that much responsibility with their own children is not my damn problem. How dare they force their backwards hate filled views on a PUBLIC INSTITUTION.  FOR SHAME.

One of the books these jackasses want burned (yes, burned) is Baby Be-Bop by Francesca Lia Block.  I read this in little more than an hour after borrowing it from my public library and it damn near broke my heart.  The main character is Dirk, a teenager being raised by his grandmother in LA.  He’s always known that he was different and has spent his life trying to fit in – until he meets Pup (no, that name is never explained) and falls in love.  The problem is that Pup is a boy – so Dirk can’t tell him, or anyone, his true feelings.  The story follows Dirk’s journey from fear to self-loathing to self-destruction and – finally – to the realization that he is loved and accepted no matter who he wants to kiss.  Reading about his anguish and anxiety over the fact that he’s gay brought tears to my eyes more than once.  And knowing that there are bigots hateful enough to deny children and teens the right to read a book that may help them work through their own fear and depression fills me with rage.

So, I ask that you see if your local library has a copy of Baby Be-Bop.  Or And Tango Makes Three – the true story of two male penguins in the Central Park Zoo that adopt an egg – and the most contested book in the country today.  Or one of the other dozens of books that have the crazies up in arms.  If they do, check it out.  Or let your library know you appreciate them making it available to the public.  Or go here and see if there is something else you’d like to do to speak out against censorship.  Because there’s a friggin’ reason that freedom of speech is in the FIRST Amendment.

Things I’ve Been Doing on My Summer Vacation, by Lo

22 09 2009
This is what a got when I Googled "crunk hamburglar." There was also a picture of the Hamburglar with J.Lo's face photoshopped on to it.

This is what a got when I Googled "crunk hamburglar." There was also a picture of the Hamburglar with J.Lo's face photoshopped on to it.

Work, potty training (suuuuuuuuuuuuucks), El’s sister’s wedding (ruuuuuules), more work, begrudgingly cleaning, adding approximately 1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder to my banana bread batter, baking black and white cupcakes, entertaining people at my house (well, I think I’m entertaining), drinking the never ending box of Pinot Grigio, using to listen to my fair share of Joy Division and Siouxsie & the Banshees (apparently I’m a manic depressive in 1982. Whatever.), making chicken and dumplings (out of my leftover roast chicken that I froze – wicked smaht!), and counting down the days when summer would finally just GET THE FUCK OUT ALREADY. Seriously, I hate summertime. Now that I’m not in school, I have nothing to look forward to except a week at the beach, which is nice BECAUSE IT IS THE BEACH. Eff you, rest of summer. The clothes are not cute, I get a sunburn after 15 minutes of being in the sun, and EWSWEATGROSS. Fall and winter – opaque tights, BOOTS!, Hot Toddies, hockey, sweaters, NO SWEATING, and the fucking cold (my fave!). This year, I decided to have a very small group over to celebrate the end of mosquito season and the start of rad season. Everyone brought food and booze and it was good. But I’m about to share with you my super-duper top secret Burger Recipe. It’s pretty much the best thing ever, and if you’re a weirdo like me, you’ll love grilling these any time of year, provided your grill isn’t under a pile of snow. I highly recommend this recipe, even though I can’t tell you how much it yields, as I make the patties different sizes every time because measuring isn’t my strong point. SHADDUPUHYAFACE! I can tell you this, though: 3 lbs. of ground beef was enough to feed 8 people and have a couple left over. But here, I’ll put it for 1 lb. and you can expand it according to your needs. Hopefully that helps. Also, any time you make these, you have to tell people that they are Crunk Burgers. Dems is da rulez. Now, go forth and GRILL, grasshoppers!

Crunk Burgers

  • 1 lb. ground beef
  • 1 packet onion soup mix (I use Kroger brand, but you can use Lipton if you wanna get all fancy-like)
  • 1-2 eggs
  • 1 cup breadcrumbs or panko
  • big ol’ squirt of ketchup
  • splash of Worstershire, if you’re feeling….SAUCY (HAHAHAHA!!!)
  1. Mix that shit up. I use my hands. You can be a dick and use your mixer, but you WILL lose street cred.
  2. Make it into patties (not Pattys, or patsys)
  3. Grill that shit til it’s done. The End

FINALLY: I use 1 packet of onion soup mix per pound of beef, and 1-2 eggs per pound. This is not an exact science, and you only learn by doing. Oh yeah – don’t make your patties too small, either, or else you’ll have little hamburger balls that do not fit conveniently on a bun. LISSENAME! I know what I’m saying.

A Chat With El & Lo Wherein Dreams Are Born

16 09 2009

Fact: When our lives are particularly crap-tacular, Lo & I like to soothe ourselves with the phrase "At least I'm not Brooke Hogan." It works every time.

Elizabeth: okay, I’m going to email you the art work for brooke hogan’s new album
it’s the most amazawfuling thing I’ve ever seen
Lauren: !!!
Elizabeth: Isn’t it SPECTACULAR??
Lauren: I have no words.
Elizabeth: because the words have not yet been invented to describe that amount of AWESOME?
Lauren: Exactly
Elizabeth: It has literally made my day
My desire to strangle has decreased exponentially
I may get that tattooed across my back
I want it on my headstone
I want to have a mural of that in my children’s bedrooms
Elizabeth: I want to paint it on the hood of my car
I want to become a millionaire, buy a video billboard in times square and only show that one image
Lauren: OMG DO IT.
Elizabeth: I want to learn how to oil paint, become really good and only copy that picture over and over again
then I will buy a white cargo box truck, park it on the side of 7, and sell them
until I am able to afford a “ballroom” at the dulles hyatt
and I can have one of those “starving artist” sales they always advertise on tv
but it will only be that picture in various sizes
on various items
such as:
Lauren: I will support any endeavor of yours, so long as it involves that art.
Elizabeth: metal
I will learn how to do those tiny paintings on the head of a nail
I will rent a face painting booth at the Lucketts fair and only paint that on children’s faces
I will buy a huge corn farm, to then grown corn is a specific pattern, so when looked at from a plane, you see that picture
I am going to become a supervillain, invent a giant projector, and project that image on the moon until the governments of the world meet my demands
Lauren: These are all very involved plans!
Elizabeth: That is the miracle of that art
It’s making me dream again
Lauren: That’s good.
You’ve been waiting for inspiration for awhile now.
Elizabeth: You know what they say – it can come from the unlikeliest sources
Lauren: Brooke Hogan probably being the MOST unlikely source.
Elizabeth: It’s a Day-After-Memorial-Day Miracle!
Lauren: Good call!

The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks by E. Lockhart

15 09 2009


Normally I can count on books to get me through trying times.  Trying times like this shit-storm of a summer.  Between all the celebrity deaths, personal deaths, the healthcare “debate”, torture memos and the stress of day to day life when your sister is planning a wedding, I really needed a good book to take me away from it all.  Of course, because this summer was a giant ball of SUCK, I couldn’t find that book.  Outside of trashy vampire novels (hello, Anita Blake) I could barely even finish a book, let alone love it.  There were a lot of disappointments, even from beloved authors like Richard Russo.  I’d given up.  Then, Labor Day weekend, I finally read a great book.  A fantastic book.  A book that saved my summer.  I read The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks by E. Lockhart.

Frankie is entering her second year at Alabaster, a prestigious private school in Massachusetts.  Over the summer she had one of those growth spurts that transformed her from horribly awkward teenage girl into stunning young woman.  Of course, she’s still wicked smaht and super independent, but when the older boy she’s been crushing on for a year asks her out she can’t believe her luck.  Well, until she actually spends some time around him and his friends – all of whom belong to an all male secret society, the same all male secret society her father belonged to when he went to Alabaster.  Frankie hates it – hates the old boys chumminess, hates the secrets, hates the fact that just because she’s a girl she not only can’t join, but these boys in her life expect her to be docile and subservient.  So Frankie, because she’s rad, decides to do something about it.

This book was such a breath of fresh air.  It’s a Young Adult novel and it was so awesome to have a YA female lead who stood up for herself, who was smart and funny and brave and didn’t sacrifice her entire self to a boy. ::cough-Bella Swan-cough::  Ms. Lockhart created an incredibly realistic character – Frankie makes plenty of bad decisions and second guesses herself and deals with body issues and bad hair days and where to sit in the cafeteria and that horrible in between time of adolescence.  But, most importantly, she thinks and doesn’t downplay her intelligence.  She’s a teenager and she’s figuring out the world around her and what role she wants to play in that world.  This was one of the most convincing coming of age novels I’ve read and I’d be proud to have a daughter as kickass as Frankie Landau-Banks.

Rhyme Time with El and Lo.

3 09 2009

This is what I found when I Googled "rhyme time." It's fucking Kool and the Gang, pretty much the best thing ever.

This is what I found when I Googled "rhyme time." It's fucking Kool and the Gang, pretty much the best thing ever.

Lo: Our substitute Fed Ex guy is very pretty.

El: Are you going to start calling him the FedSEX guy?

Lo: I think so.
Lo: He remembered my name!
El: Urine DeHiney?
Lauren: Um.
El: Borin’ Lauren?
You should move to a different country and introduce yourself as “Foreign Lauren”
Lo: Or adopt a foreign accent and not move.
El: hmmmmm
You should become a world-class soccer player and have the nickname “Scorin’ Lauren”
Lo: I will consider that for my next career move.
El: You should buy a pontoon boat, and open a business giving visitors a ride up and down the James River while discussing the history of the Richmond area and call yourself “Tourin’ Lauren”
Lo: Another wonderful idea!
I would also like to incorporate Pho Realz into these plans somehow, even though it doesn’t have much to do with my name.
El: You should study the movie “Cocktail” until you become a championship level bartender and compete under the name “Pourin’ Lauren”
Lo: Mmhmm. Go on…
El: You should commit a misdemeanor crime, like throwing a cellphone at a maid, and when sentenced to community service as a janitor, serve under the name “Chorin’ Lauren”
You should get yourself pregnant by former Vice President/current environmental activist Al Gore and call your fetus the “Gore In Lauren”
You should take up golf, but never become decent so you are constantly yelling “Fore” – earning the nickname “Forin’ Lauren”
Lo: These are all truly fantastic ideas.
El: You should learn how to clone yourself, making multiple selves that you keep locked in the basement, and if people ask what you are doing – tell them you are “Storin’ Lauren”
When you are especially gloomy feeling, you should refer to yourself as the “Eeyorin’ Lauren”
Lo: Mmhmm.
El: You should learn old time-y folktales, and travel the country reciting them as “Lorin’ Lauren”
You should join a fan club, and use “Adorin’ Lauren” as your screen name…or have someone start a fans of you club called “Adorin’ Lauren”
You should become a professional historical reinactor and bill yourself as “Days of Yore-in‘ Lauren”
[the barrel’s bottom is being scraped now]
Start fighting with everyone around you until they call you “Warrin’ Lauren”
Lo: Snore very loudly so I’m called Snorin’ Lauren?
El: Yes
Become a prostitute, i.e. Whorin’ Lauren
El: Participate in the running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain, get trampled, lose your mind, affix bulls horns to your head and go around attacking people. You would be billed on the news as “Gorin’ Lauren”
El: Star as the lead in Shakespeare’s Othello as the “Moorin’ Lauren”
Sit on your porch all fall preparing apples for baked goods until people know you as “Corin’ Lauren”
I think I’m tapped.
Lo: That was very impressive.
El: Thank you.
Now, I want you to print that list out, and whenever you get depressed about your job/life path, look at and pick a new direction
Replace your insides with robot parts, including an opening that gives access to the batteries labeled the “Door In Lauren”
El: Next time you cry, tell people your eyes are Pourin’ Lauren
(I know that’s a double pour)
My brain is imploding
Lo: (That is really stretching it.)
I can tell.
El: FACT: Your name is very rhymey
Lo: Yours is not so much.
You could go into the soda business and call yourself Efizzabeth.
El: HA!
Lo: Start a competetive magazine to Ms. all about you and call it EMs.ibeth.
Start your own hair care line called Efrizzabeth.
Wrassle bears under the name Egrizzabeth.
Lo: Become a name in showbiz with your name Ebizabeth.
I’m tapped already.
El: Yeah, my name is teh sux
El: I blame MY PARENTS
Lo: I blame them too!
El: For oh so many things