Over To You: Eat Your Feelings?

Whenever I eat Fritos (original flavor, curl-shaped, not scoops), it makes me happy because it reminds me of this time Husband and I had a lovely picnic lunch on a deserted Maryland beach.

Whenever I drink Dr Pepper, it makes me nostalgic because it reminds me of my uncle keeping a cooler-full for me during my childhood visits to the US.

What about you guys? Replace the bold text with your own food/drink emotional memories in the comments.

I don't want to hear it.

As everyone knows, famous people have been dropping like flies this past week.

Celebrity is an odd thing; we feel like we know these people in some way, even though in reality we are complete strangers. We note their deaths, we may even feel some form of grief, or at least have some kind of emotional reaction to the news of their passing.

I'm not gonna lie, I laughed at pretty much all the sick, sick too-soon jokes floating around the blogosphere. I laughed at the title "Celebrity Death Week". I jokingly suggested the possible next celebrity to go. I laughed at the idea of Billy Mays Oxy-Cleaning the robes of the heavenly host.

Then today on a "news" channel, I heard something I fervently wish I could un-hear.

I heard the shaky, tearful, terrified voice of Billy's wife on the 911 call when she found him dead. No one deserves to have such an utterly devastating, utterly personal moment broadcast for everyone to hear*. My heart absolutely breaks for that woman.

Imagine finding the person you love most in the world still and cold. Try to imagine how you would feel in that moment.

Then imagine knowing that any and every stranger you pass in the street could have potentially heard that moment unfolding, heard your life collapsing, heard your heart breaking.

Why would anyone want to hear that? Who would think that was a thing that needed to be broadcast?

There is something seriously wrong with humanity.


*and that's why I'm not linking to anything to do with it.

Original Drafts VI

Song requested by: BeckEye

A Caring and Sharing Week Household Tip

I’m about to share with y’all possibly the weirdest household tip you’ll ever receive.

Having recently mourned the passing of my garlic crusher, I am reduced to chopping garlic by hand. This is all well and good, but a lady doesn’t like to have stinky garlic fingers.

A friend told me about the odor-eating properties of stainless steel. Mama’s not paying fifteen dollars for a hunk of metal when the whole sink is made of the stuff, so after chopping up the garlic one night, I rubbed my fingers on the bottom of our stainless steel sink.

Result: my fingers smelt less like garlic… and more like whatever crap was all over the bottom of the sink.

But I wasn’t giving up, oh no. So I thought about it, and one night as I was rinsing out Husband’s coffee plunger, it came to me.

Hadn’t I learned from Axel Foley that coffee grinds were used by drug cartels to mask the odor of Colombian marching powder? So I rubbed my fingers on the sink, then poured out a handful of wet, used coffee grinds and rubbed my hands with them like they were LaMer or something.

Result: my fingers smelled hardly at all of garlic, but rather a lot like coffee. A quick re-wash with regular liquid hand soap, and my fingers were scented like the daintiest spring flowers, and delightfully soft from the incidental exfoliation!

Share your weirdest household tips in the comments!

The Blogisferia Chronicles: Chapter the Sixth

This Caring and Sharing Week chapter of the Chronicles is dedicated to two bloggers who cared enough to volunteer to be Chronicled!
One is a blog homie from way back, featured this week because I have won a prize at his blog!!! I hardly ever win things (seriously, the one from Gwen and this one... that's about it in my life), so I'm very happy, even though it was pure chance and nothing to do with my (admittedly vast) talents! My other lovely volunteer inadvertently gave me the idea for the storyline.

Previous Chapters:
Chapter the First
Chapter the Second
Chapter the Third
Chapter the Fourth
Chapter the Fifth
*************************************

Princess Soda was returning home from one of her frequent sojourns to visit other Blogisferians when suddenly her vehicle stopped in the forest, dipping sharply on the right side and causing fruit flavored Mentos to roll everywhere. She peeked out to see what was the matter.

"Oh great, looks like the right front wheel is rooted." she grumbled.

"Princess Soda, with all due respect, I wish you'd stop referring to your palanquin carriers as 'wheels'" gasped the man who had been in the right front position, now struggling to catch his breath.

"Che cosa fai? Eric, it's not my fault you got yourself into debt buying up all of Candysoda's rare pink marble for your sculptures and mosaics. And here in Candysoda, you know debt translates into indentured servitude."

"Yo, what am I up in this bizzle for then? You know I gots the skills to pay the bills." spoke a voice from the rear of the palanquin.

"Joshlos, you published a very unflattering picture of me in the Candysoda Herald. Technically that's punishable by death, so you're getting off easy, son."

"Your Highness, you know I came to Candysoda for the honeys, and I haven't seen -"

Suddenly, the trees around them began rustling and whispering. A crowd of ethereally beautiful young women with long green hair and flowing (yet surprisingly revealing) robes began to approach them from amongst the trees.

They surrounded the palanquin and its bearers.

"Oh snap! Dryads!" cried the Princess.

"Prrrrrincessssss Soooooodaaaa..." rustled the wood-nymphs, "we wisssshhhhhh theeeese men to come with ussssssss... it issss our right to claim theeem if they do not objeeeeect..."

Naturally, Eric and Joshlos made no objection, simply staring in open-mouthed shock at the beautiful women surrounding them, although Princess Soda swore she heard one of the men whispering "daaaaaamn!". They were spirited away into the forest.

"Bugger. How am I supposed to get back to the castle now?"



*************************************
Thanks for volunteering and giving me plot inspiration, boys.
Don't say I never do nothin' for ya ; )

Original Drafts V: Caring & Sharing Week Special Edition

Today's Original Draft is a very special one created by the fabulous, lovely Gwen, because she cares about moi so much!!! And of course I love Gwen - and it's not just because she was the first blogger I ever won a prize from!




That's right monkeys, you just got Rickrolled!

Caring, sharing, and... insults?

It's Caring & Sharing Week here in Soda and Candy Land! Because I've been feeling the bloggy love, my posts this week will be tied somehow to the theme of caring and/or sharing*.

To kick things off, because I care about y'all, I'm going to share with you a blog I just discovered!

Are you sick of using the same old insults on your exasperating ex, flaky friends and cretinous co-workers? Then head over to Insults for some fresh ammo! You can submit your own favorite insults for inclusion as well - I've provided some true-blue Aussie insults here, here, here and here (although I take no responsibility for the emotional damage caused by the pictures Insults chose to accompany them!)


*Until I run out of caring/sharing material and/or tenuous links to same**.

**Also, just ignore the fact that the week started well before this post.

I heart macro photography

^ where the deck meets the first step


^ an ocean wave in wood



^ ginger-like plants that ruthlessly colonize our garden every summer


^ the lovely red flowers that bloom on the summer colonists


^ hummingbirds visit these trumpet-shaped flowers to my delight

Original Drafts IV

Grrrrrr.

Why does it take ten premenstrual women to change a lightbulb?

It just does, all right?!

Original Drafts III

Widget or Blog: The Original Drafts Story

After figuring out which option took the least effort on my part a great deal of thoughtful consideration, I have decided to make Original Drafts a regular feature on this blog rather than setting up a whole other blog devoted to it.

I added a handy-dandy link on the sidebar over there, which will lead you to all posts with the Original Drafts tag, and which also contains a spam-proofed email address* to which song requests can be made.

The ball's in your court, readers! (hehe, I said balls)...

*yes, I know they can't get it from a jpeg, but it looks cooler that way.

An Original Drafts blog? Whaddya reckon?

That paragon of blog excellence, The Imaginary Reviewer, was kind enough to suggest that my recently created Original Drafts feature should get the Chachi & Joanie treatment - its own spin-off blog.

I'm thinking about it, but I wanted to ask you guys, my reading public, some questions first*:

1. Would you read such a blog?
2. Would you be willing to submit song ideas (via email, most likely) in exchange for a pimpin' credit link on the post should your idea be used?
3. Would it be inexcusably lame if the same paper / handwriting were eventually reused for different songs (hey, there are only so many free paper textures and handwriting fonts out there!)

*Lurkers included!!! Please help a sister out.

Original Drafts II

Original Drafts I

Somebody please make this now. Kthx. UPDATED. AGAIN.

So the other night as I was drifting off to sleep I had the best idea evs.

Luckily for you I hopped out of bed and quickly made barely legible notes on the subject so I could blog about it.

Prepare to have your mind blown...

They should make an IM program (like iChat, or whatever PC users use) with a little paint application attached so you could draw messages.

It would be especially awesome if it could be in real time, sort of like sketchfu.com, so your buddy could see as you drew.

If anyone can invent this, I bet God can (are you there God? It's me, Soda & Candy).

UPDATE: Rudimentary Googling reveals that scriblink.com seems pretty close to what I'm after even though it is a website not a program but I haven't actually tried it yet. Anyone want to test it out and let me know what they think?

Update Update: Fine. It's already been invented by like a million people. Lucky I had no idea how to go about making it so I can't be disappointed at the millions I missed out on making. Sheesh.

The Blogisferia Chronicles: Chapter the Fifth

Previous Chapters:
Chapter the First
Chapter the Second
Chapter the Third
Chapter the Fourth
*************************************

"Candysoda Castle is under attack!!!"

Princess Soda almost choked on a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup as a visibly distressed courtier ran into the throne room screaming.

"TishTash the Warrior Queen and her hordes are headed right for us!"

Princess Soda rushed to the balcony and looked out. Sure enough, she saw a tiny woman dressed in head-to toe black leather stomping towards the castle gate. She was followed by an unruly mob of warriors similarly clad in black leather, shouting insults and lashing out at passersby as they came.

The courtier followed the Princess out onto the balcony.

"They say she's called TishTash because that's the noise her scimitar makes as she cuts you open! You know - " and here he broke off to slash an X in the air with his hand "tish! tash!"

A man in the street below shouted something at TishTash, to which she clearly took offense, because the next thing they knew, she appeared to be performing some kind of ritualistic dance, which ended with rather a lot of high kicks aimed at the poor fellow's most precious regions. She walked over his prone body and continued on her way.

"Don't be such a baby. It's just her way. Obviously she's just here to collect her tribute." sighed the Princess.
"Quickly, prepare a large pallet of cans of Coke. About eight hundred. I'll take care of the rest."

A short time later, Princess Soda received the Warrior Queen in her throne room. TishTash stalked in on what must have been seven inch heels, yet she was still only slightly taller than the Princess. Her belligerent countenance, multiple piercings, tattoos and a voluminous jet-black mohawk could not disguise her exquisite beauty.

"Hello Tishy dear. My people should be loading you up with Coke cans right about now, but here's the real tribute."

The Princess handed a small chest of dark engraved wood to the Warrior Queen. TishTash opened it to find an exquisite pair of black patent-leather thigh-high stiletto boots with just the right number of buckles and straps to maintain an aura of menace.

"That's the stuff! Thanks Soda!"

"No worries Tish, see you next year!"

*************************************
Thanks for volunteering, my dear TishTash! See, you got your very own chapter because of it!
Let that be a lesson to the rest of you.

Pimping and Low Grade Extortion.

Check out the ridiculously awesome* loungey header I made as a present for everyone's favorite knight, Words... words... words....

Maybe it's not as sexy as the portrait I did for my homegirl Vegetable Assassin, which she turned into her header (I'm crap at drawing boys). But let's face it, his old header needed to be put out of its pixelated misery.

Let me make this clear - I don't do these by request. I'll do it if:

1. I feel like doing something
and
2. I like you / your blog
and
3. You deserve it
and
4. I have a good idea

or
5. You will pay me. Especially if you would like to pay me exorbitant sums. Those are my favorite kind of sums.

Feel free to leave job offers in the comments : )


*As a wise man once said, it ain't trickin' if you got it.

The drought recedes as quickly as it arrived.

Okay so you guys are the best.

Oddly enough I randomly came up with a few ideas for future posts that had nothing to do with anyone's comments, but I know you all did it for the glory, so here is the list of winners, which I basically decided not on the quality of your comments (because they were all awesome, even the unhelpful ones) or even the quality of the ideas therein (I think memes are a good idea, but I'm not feeling them for this blog right now), but of their usefulness to me in particular:

TishTash - for sucking up and giving me a plotline idea - your chapter is coming up next.

thechrlog - for apparently believing I could write a novel. It got me thinking about doing more creative writing. Or are you just trying to say my posts are too long?

joshlos - because you put your hand up to be in the Chronicles. Although I'll have to think about the kung-fu angle.

Eric
Tennyson
Well Fed Graphic Designer
mo.stoneskin
Cora
- because (like all women) I'm a sucker for compliments.





Oh yeah and the offer to Chronicle anyone in my sidebar (because if you're not there, chances are I don't know you well enough to write you a character) still stands, but I think I need you to put your hand up for it. So please volunteer at any time.

UPDATED: Blog malaise is the new swine flu (with a side of Over to You).

You guys, I think I have a touch of the blog burnout that's been going around.

I still want to write, and I still like reading other people's blogs... I'm just feeling like I'm off my game a bit. I can't think of any witty comments even when I really like a post (or even particularly witty replies to y'alls comments here), and I've no ideas stored up for my own future posts...

I usually have two or three drafts up my sleeve, and I've nothing!

Help me, blogosphere! What would you like to read on this delicious sugary pink blog of mine?

Should I do more odes?

More Soda Fountain of Knowledge (language or culture)?

More Blogisferia Chronicles? Is there anyone whose blog is in my reader list brave enough to put their hand up to be in the next Chronicle?

Or is there something I haven't written about that you want me to? Current events perhaps, or nano-celebrities like Jon & Kate Plus Eight Minus Jon?

Comments please!!! Oh yeah and the best (i.e. most helpful) comment wins a Sweet Blogger Award!!


That's right. I'm not above bribery.

UPDATE: also, crap. I was adding the well-fed graphic designer to my blog list and accidentally removed someone else, and I've no idea who it was. Can anyone tell who's missing over there?

Recommended Viewing: In the Mood For Love

We recently watched In the Mood For Love, a Chinese movie by Wong Kar Wai.

I don't want to go into the plot too much, because I seriously want y'all to see it for yourselves. It's a melancholy sort-of love story, just quiet and gentle and sweetly sad. Every single frame is achingly beautiful. I'm not exaggerating. The set design is pitch-perfect (if it's not technically period-perfect, it's emotionally perfect), the color palette is used to great effect, and the way the camera lingers on a wisp of smoke or views a scene from down a hallway and with a slightly blocked view instead of right there with the characters, just infuses the film with a sense of longing, but at the same time it's very peaceful.

And I covet the lead actress's wardrobe to an obsessive degree. Like, I would wear the shit out of every single thing she wore. Ridiculously fantastic. It's set in the 1960s, so she had these incredible modern-style cheongsam type dresses, with elegant high collars, neat little cap sleeves, and glove-like fitting to her curves (and it didn't hurt that she had a smoking hot bod). I was literally gasping with joy and envy every time she had on a new outfit. And then demanding to be taken to China.

These pictures are kind of terrible quality, but you get the idea:







Also, now I'm really craving wonton soup and char siu bao (BBQ pork buns).

Redact This.

Don't you hate it when bloggers write those posts that are all mysterious because they want to complain about something that's going on in their real life, but they can't give any details, because they don't want to give up their sweet precious anonymity*?

It's like the blogger's emotions are soldiers writing home to Ma, but the blogger's brain is the army, intercepting their letters and removing any potentially damaging information:



*Which is not to say that I don't understand why people do it. Or that I won't ever write such a post.

Fun Size: Cocktail Hour.

I really like the drink they call a Shirley Temple - you know, Sprite with Lord-knows-what thrown in there to make it go pink. Because clearly the most important thing about a drink is that it should match your outfit.

But I was thinking the other night, I bet a Shirley Temple would taste pretty good with a shot of vodka chucked in. Only what would you call it?

I suggest, the Drew Barrymore*.




* GET IT???!!! Because she was a nine-year-old alcoholic**.

**Too soon?

To Boldly Go...

Captain Kirk: We don't know what terrible dangers may lurk down on this strange new planet. We'll need to assemble an away team. Let's see... of course I will go, my second in command Spock, Chief Medical Officer McCoy, Lieutenant Sulu... and you there, in the red shirt, what's your name?

Ensign: Jenkins, sir.

Captain Kirk: All right, Ensign Jenkins, you're coming with us. You too, Ensign Kowalski.

Ensigns: Aw, crap.


As soon as you saw some poor schmo in a red shirt (who you'd never seen before) in the away team, you knew who was going to get crushed by styrofoam rocks or atomized by unconvincingly plastic lizard-people. My mum and I coined the name Ensign Expendable for these unfortunate fellows. I wonder if Starfleet Academy had a course on Not Getting Picked For the Away Team, aka Survival 101.

Really Hot.

Sometimes, when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much, the daddy does things to make the mummy happy...

*************************

He squeezed the bottle over the hot water, smiling at her as she watched small mountains of bubbles rising from the surface. She swore she could almost feel the steam rising and making her skin hotter, or maybe it was just that she knew what he was going to do next.

"Oh yeah baby, you know I love it when you do that!" she purred.

She inhaled sharply, watching his hands as they worked slowly and surely over the dishes, lathering them with a luxurious foam and then sluicing steaming hot water all over them to rinse off the detergent. She loved the way the muscles in his strong forearms corded as he carefully placed each dish in the draining rack.

"That's not all I've got... I know you're gonna love this, you dirty girl." He winked at her and strode across the kitchen.

His long, sensitive fingers caressed and securely knotted the handles of the garbage bag. He lifted it gently out of the bin, its weight meaningless in his well-muscled arms, and headed for the back door, stopping only to hook one finger into the mouth of a milk-bottle, rinsed and ready for recycling.

"Oh baby," she moaned rapturously, "I love how you know exactly what I want you to do without me even having to ask!"

The Blogisferia Chronicles: Chapter the Fourth

This post is a special gift for two lovely lady bloggers who've recently celebrated their birthdays...


Previous Chapters:
Chapter the First
Chapter the Second
Chapter the Third
*************************************

Princess Soda needed help, so she summoned two of her favorite witches to ask them to find a solution.

Trumpets sounded to herald their arrival at Candysoda Castle.

"Your Highness, announcing the good witches of -"
"For Blog's sake, man! Don't call them good witches!" Princess Soda hurriedly tried cut off the announcer, but it was too late; he had already been turned into a sock monkey.

Two exceedingly glamorous ladies swept into the throne room, surrounded by a capering, chattering crowd of dear little monkeys.

"Am not a good witch," muttered Gwendolyn disgustedly, sneaking a sip from a suspicious flask she had hidden in the folds of her robe, "I'm a fabulous witch! Don't you know calling someone a good witch is like saying they have a nice personality?!"

"Yeah! Call me a good witch & I will cut you!" snarled Sass.

"My dear fabulous witches! I need your help." Princess Soda explained that as a present to her beloved husband the King, she had her hair enchanted so that it would grow very long. At present it trailed behind her by about two feet when she walked. It looked very becoming - if slightly unsettling as it curled and twined along the ground like creeping vines - but the problem was that it had become extremely heavy and difficult to bear.



"...and I don't know what to do!" finished the Princess.

The witchy sisters thought for a moment - interrupted several times by various members of the court unburdening themselves into Sass's ear much to her annoyance.

Then Gwendolyn's eyes lit up.

"I know just the thing, Princess! I will give you some of my monkeys to help carry your hair for you! The little buggers won't learn how to fly," here she broke off to give them a hard glare, "but they're nice enough, and I have taught them to stop flinging poop at least."

"Heh, you said poop! Thank you, Lady Gwendolyn, they are dear little things! I am sure they will be a tremendous help!"

*******************************
Stay gwenilicious, sassy and fabulous, ladies.