Seriously?
An Oration for Monk Abuddhist of the Oracle of Biologisvensk at WordPress.com:
You know, I would never had known you existed had I not felt the sudden impulse to look my site up on Technorati. I saw that your site had referenced me several times, and since I had never come across you as one of the three or so remaining admirers I have, I felt the need to grace your site with my humble presence.
When I set foot upon the holy ground that is your blog, I saw nothing more than what someone like me dreams of: a blog filled of my posts in all their glory. Of course, I thought this must be some sort of mistake brought on by the internet imps, for why would someone spend time filling a site with my writings and not their own? It was then that I saw you couldn’t help yourself , my humble follower, but to alter the titles of my writings, and occasionally the phrasing of a sentence. I figure you must be trying to somehow personalise my magnificence to fit within the confines of your humble temple for my creative genius. But at times, I did see that some of my compositions in the Holy Tome of HorseHell were so revered, that you left them and their titles untouched.
I understand your reluctance for recognition, even by one as magnanimous as I, for you didn’t reference the goddess from whose orations your site is a monument to. I appreciate your humility, and I will honour it by not creating a link to encourage the pilgrimage of my faithful readers to your temple. You have quietly been following and transcribing my holy tome since 2005, but I, your goddess, implore your cessation of this activity. Please, come here to revere me. Transcribe my words upon your heart, not your site. If you do not heed what I, your patroness demand, I shall rain the fire of a thousand hells upon you. You shall feel my wrath and face the black abyss of deleted WordPress accounts.
I, Goddess Biologisvensk, have spoken.
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Happy Holidays
Between work and finals in a class this week, I think I might take a little disappearing act. Then again, if history repeats itself, I’ll be spamming this blog to satiate my procrastination needs. Anyways, here is Ranger, about 20 minutes past midnight on Christmas Day after I found out he got into the bag on my desk to pull out my sisters’ presents: gift cards in stuffed animal gift card holders. I think he was hoping the animals were for him, and he waited this long ( over a week) to get into the bag, I guess he couldn’t wait anymore. Regardless, it took away my “Bah Humbug” mood.
When got home:
When he saw them not going to him:
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What the Funk?!
I’m in a funk. I’ve been in one for over a month. It is as if I am lacking motivation and wanting to do nothing but sleep and work. Even my courses for uni, which have subject matter I enjoy, are just laying there untouched. What the hell is wrong with me? Am I subconsciously still dealing with the shit I had to put up with a few months ago? Is it the holidays, which always have sucked for me? Is it just me? I can’t figure it out, I just know I feel it.
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Spiced Caramel Apple Cider
1. Prepare pot on stove to warm apple juice.
2. Locate apple juice, realise you are out.
3. Locate powdered apple cider mix. Boil 400 mL water instead.
4. In another pot, combine 200g brown sugar, pinch of cinnamon, pinch of nutmeg.
5. Heat slowly until sugar mixture begins to melt.
6. Kick dog out of kitchen.
7. Smell something burning, realise that although not all sugar has melted, it is burning.
8. Trip over cat on way to sink to cool the pot, dispose of mixture, and begin again.
9. In clean pot, combine 100g brown sugar, pinch of cinnamon, pinch of nutmeg, 100g white sugar.
10. Heat slowly until sugar mixture begins to melt on reduced heat.
11. Watch sugar begin to bubble, occasionally removing from heat.
12. Swirl melted mixture in pot, notice it is looking a little too brown,
13. Dispose of mixture in sink and begin again.
14. In a clean pot, combine 200g white sugar, pinch of cinnamon, pinch of nutmeg.
15. Heat slowly until sugar mixture begins to melt on reduced heat.
16. Watch sugar begin to bubble, occasionally removing from heat.
17. Notice mixture is beginning to bubble almost black in middle of pot, but still solid white along the edges.
18. Trip over dog, stubbing toe into the kitchen cabinet, falling into the sink with hot pot.
19. Exhaust monthly alotted usage of all variants of “fuck,” while cooling off scalded fingers and cleaning pot.
20. Switch on the largest burner on stove, with hopes of more even heating.
22. Break out the mortar and pestle, and grind 200g of white sugar to a fine powder.
21. In clean pot, combine 200g ground white sugar, pinch of cinnamon, pinch of nutmeg.
22. Heat on low heat on larger burner until melts.
23. When melted, swirl around in pot, occasionally removing from heat, until reaching syrup consistency.
24. Return to pot of water, now simmering, and add powdered cider mix.
25. Pour cider into mug.
26. Return to pot on stove with caramel syrup.
27. Place pot in cold water to stop cooking process.
28. Take spoon and attempt to drizzle syrup into hot cider.
29. Watch sugar strands form while removing spoon from pot of syrup, during drizzling attempt.
30. Taste cider with caramel. Realize “caramel” is actually elegantly burned sugar
31. Dump cider down the kitchen drain, using up next month’s allotment of all variants of “fuck.”
32. Suddenly remember that there is caramel dip in the fridge.
33. Throw in the towel and go to bed, using up this month’s and next month’s allotments of all variants of “shit,” and “damn.”
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Nightmares really do come true...
A few weeks ago I had this dream. Typically, my nightmares consist of my doing or not doing something and it having dire consequences. Such was the case with this one. Part of my job entails pausing a machine, loading specimens, and resuming the machine. If this machine doesn’t got off when it is supposed to, it is as if someone threw a wrench in a bunch of gears: everything goes to hell in a handbasket. In this particular case, it would piss off a whole bunch of doctors and affect patient care.
Fast forward to today: I somehow forgot to hit the resume button.
Yeah, not good.
Everything is coming off late and it is all my fault.
I believe as the lab manager put it when the techs told him: “ Oh good, at least we have someone to blame.”
Yeah, thanks alot.
Then again, the tech told him we could blame one of the other techs as opposed to me, and the manager jokingly said: “Nah, I think we should stick with her (me), she can handle it, he would probably just cry.”
Well, at least he has my personality down, but it still doesn’t stop me from beating myself up about it. I feel terrible: I hate screwing up.
I’m trying to tell myself that the worst thing that could happen is a slap on the wrist, it is obviously an accident. I am just not looking forward to having to sit through it all. It just makes me feel worse.
The bright side? I won’t have to worry about making THIS mistake again.
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CHOMP!
With me working full time and bouncing back from personal hell raised by my father’s family, I let school slip. Yeah, you know that thing I am also doing full time? The one that is biting me in the ass? I swear there aren’t enough hours in the day. So over the next twenty-four hours I have two major papers that I haven’t even begun the research for, four minor papers that I just need to sit down and crank out, an exam to sit, and I believe seven “discussion” topics that need about a typed page response each. I feel like adding to the list “and a partridge in a pear tree.” It kinda rounds it out nicely, doesn’t it? If I alternate espresso shots with red bull, my stomach shouldn’t get too screwed up, right?
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'Tis the Season
Apparently people are sitting in lawn chairs in front of a nearby Best Buy to be the first ones to the big sale on Friday. It must be nice having enough money to sit on your ass for 4-5 days not working, and then go in to a store to blow it on expensive electronics marked down a couple hundred dollars at most.
