Outrageous.

I got an award!!!
Thanks Cora (or should I say Mrs. Scope)!!! You are a lovely lady and I am so glad you fell headlong into love and that you share about it on your blog!



Of course nothing in this world comes for free so here are the strings that were attached to this one:

•Express gratitude to the blogger who bestowed the award unto you. Done.
•Display the picture on your blog proudly. Done.
•Be nice and provide a link to the person who gave it to you. See above.
•Tell up to 6 outrageous lies about yourself, and at least 1 outrageous truth, or switch it around and tell 6 outrageous truths and 1 outrageous lie. See below.
•Nominate 7 creative writers who might be into doing this. You're not the boss of me! Plus, I like having blogger friends, and most of them have either already been tagged for this or hate doing it, so nuts to that.
•Post links to the seven blogs you nominate and let the owners of those blogs know. See above.


Oh God, where to begin? Here is something (non-outrageous) that is true about me: I lead a rather unexciting life. Here is another fact about me: although I am a dreadful comment whore, I don't always give my fellow bloggers as much comment love as I should. So in light of these facts, I have decided to make my list all about other bloggers.
So here are outrageous truths about some of* my fellow bloggers. Can you guess who they are? If not, click on the links and you will be magically transported to their blogs!

1. I met my husband when he left a comment on my blog (okay, this one was kind of a gimme).

2. I was once given a hat by Samuel L Jackson.

3. We are a group of girls with our religion in common. We talk about it extensively on our blog... and it's funny and charming and interesting!

4. I used my grandmother as an antenna. And that's not the most outrageous thing about me, just the cleanest.

5. I'm an accomplished artist well versed in classical art and history... from the same state as George W. Bush.


Gah! I only came up with five! Oh well, don't feel bad if you didn't make this list, just let me know your reason why you should be on it in the comments! (Or do a post about it, but don't forget to let me know about it!) I may even update my post if I think you're outrageous enough.



*"Some of", in this case, being the ones about whom I could recall something that I legitimately regard as outrageous.

Cicadasong

or, The Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Poem about Cicadas.

You left your armor
clinging, empty
A hollow plaything
A zombie sentry

Now calling your lovers
to join in your song
Hordes in the trees
your voices are strong

Sing me to distraction
Sing me into dust
Sing to me all summer
for sing to me you must

When summer is gone
And you've done what you could
Your children will sleep safely
deep in the wood

Edited To Add: Wow. Perhaps I should have called it Cricketsong *crickets*. Anyway, who pronounces it cic-ay-da, and who pronounces it cic-ah-da?

Say What?

As much as I rail against people for not using the English language correctly*, I must admit there are some sayings that just don't make any damn sense. Here are a couple:

"Have your cake and eat it too"
I know what the meaning of this phrase is, I think; it's talking about not being satisfied and always wanting more than you deserve. But if you look at what it literally says, it's completely ridiculous. I know the Vegetable Assassin will back me up on this one. I mean, what is the point of having sweet delicious cake, if not to cram it down one's gullet? What possible circumstances could exist in which the having of the cake was enough?! What are you going to do, just keep it under a glass dome, taking it out occasionally to stare lovingly at the swirly peaks of frosting until the cake is old enough for baby spiders to come bursting out? Maybe that's good enough for Miss Haversham, but not this girl, no sir! I see a cake, I eat it.

"The exception that proves the rule"
This just makes my brain hurt like Mr Gumby. I'm not even sure I can understand what someone who uses this phrase is trying to say. I mean, surely if an example exists that goes against the conventional wisdom, doesn't that mean the conventional wisdom is wrong? For example, say you meet an Australian who hates beer and loathes cricket. Okay, perhaps it's unexpected, but how in the hell do you turn around and take that as proof that Aussies usually do love beer and cricket, rather than that perhaps you might have been taken in by a popular stereotype, and it's proof of the fact that the stereotype isn't true?!

Extra Credit Question: Dear Readers, what oddities of the English language (or another language, but please explain!) do you find perplexing?


*I think using the wrong your/you're should be punishable by torture, and I have been known to shout at the television during misuse of the word literally...

Overheard in the And Candy House

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the following conversation took place while lounging on the couches on a Sunday evening.

Mr.&C: I wish they had home delivery chocolate.

S&C: "Hello, pizza place? Can you please bring us your smallest cheapest pizza and also stop by the grocery store and bring us some chocolate?"
...Ohhh, imagine if they had home delivery for Krispy Kreme. We'd be fat as hell!

Mr.&C: Fatter as hell.


Dear Reader, what do YOU wish came home-delivered?

X factor

I am X.

Only a small percentage of all humans are X, so I guess you could say I was in a minority (interestingly, I have heard that the percentage is slightly higher among creative types).

You can't tell I'm X just by looking at me. Most people are surprised when they find out that I am X. X is not a characteristic I chose to have, but one that is naturally part of who I am. Being X is something you are born with.

Not so long ago, being X was seen as wrong, even a sign of evil. My grandfather was X, but when it was found out, he was physically punished and forced to be not-X. These days, most people don't see anything wrong with being X. You might even see an X character in a movie or TV show.

What is X? Highlight the line below to find out.
X = left-handed

How many Horsemen of the Apocalypse?

Pestilence, War, Famine, Death, Using Literally When You Mean Figuratively.

Who are your bonus Horsemen of the Apocalypse?

Steamed.

When I step out of the shower I feel glorious.

Full and luscious and soft, my skin plump with water and gently steaming like the fluffiest, whitest bun. My lime and brown sugar scrub makes me smell like the promise of a mojito.

Then I pull on my jeans... and suddenly I feel like a giant blob of sausage stuffed into not enough skin.

Did that actually just happen?

In the dentist's waiting room, a large woman with an extreme mullet (crew-cut in the front and waist length waves in the back) loudly discussed her gastric bypass surgery and then proudly described her checkers set...

...the pieces of which were shot glasses...

...with Dale Earnhardt Junior for one side and NASCAR for the other...

...She picked up this gem for the incredible sum of fifteen dollars at Big Lots*.

And I am a terrible person, because I could not keep a straight face. I'm not made of stone, people. But honestly, good for her. We should all be made so happy so easily. But perhaps with better haircuts.



*A dreadful discount goods store where everything is either broken, overpriced for its quality level, unbelievably tacky, or some combination of these three.

Yummy yummy yummy I got love in my tummy

I ate a new flavor of ice-cream the other day called Denali Bear Claw. It's basically a creamy dark chocolate ice-cream with goopy caramel swirls and little chocolate coated cashew clusters.

It tasted like there was a party in my mouth... and everyone was getting it on. Aw yeah.

What foods make you ecstatically happy? (And why aren't you eating a big bowl of them right now instead of reading this nonsense?)

Reader Poll: Change or stay the same?

Mr. And Candy and I have been watching The Marriage Ref. Basically, if you haven't watched it, married couples submit their arguments for dissection and resolution by the host, Tom Papa, and a variety of celebrity panelists. Whoever wins according to the host has to give up the argument and concede defeat, but all the couples get a fabulous luxury holiday just for being on the show, so don't cry too hard for the losers!

I'm sure you will think me a philistine for enjoying it but I do. It is not so hard to recognize oneself in the petty yet deeply felt arguments of other married folk, and of course the smug feeling of superiority when viewing arguments much more petty, ridiculous and or lower class than one's own is hugely enjoyable.

Anyway. One of the recent arguments was a husband who wanted his wife to change her last name to his, and she didn't want to. Part, but not all, of her reasoning was that she worked in radio and was known by her "maiden" name professionally.

The panelists pretty much agreed that it was up to her, except then it kind of veered off into "She should be allowed to keep it professionally but she should change it in her personal life like for checking accounts and so on" - this is exactly what the two female panelists, Kelly Ripa (Consuelos) and Demi Moore (Kutcher) had done, after all. To be honest with you I was sort of shocked that these other arguments were even brought up, especially by women, because to me this is a case where "I don't want to" is an end-of-story type deal.

I just kind of assumed in today's modern world that since we no longer view women as property changing hands from father to husband that it had become a matter of choice solely up to the woman (seeing as her life is the only one affected). I changed mine, because I wanted to. I probably wouldn't have if his last name had been worse than mine, like, Maggott or Fartstein or something.

What do the wise citizens of the blogosphere have to say on this matter?

Over to You: And now for something completely different...

What do you guys think of t-shirts with stuff written on them?

I do love witticisms on t-shirts, but being petite of frame means I have to choose very short ones, and being a girl means I have to think carefully about whether I really want to give anyone an excuse to stare at my chest - "What? I was just reading your t-shirt!"

But I like them on other people, as long as they're funny and/or witty and not some lame garbage like "Female Body Inspector" or "I'm with Stupid". One of my all-time favorites is "I found Jesus... He was behind the couch the whole time."

What's your favorite t-shirt witticism? Or alternatively, what's one you WISH was on a t-shirt?

Yeah, you.

Dear Mr. Complete Stranger in the Street*,

No, I do not want a ride in your vehicle. I learned not to get into a stranger's car when I was five years old.

No, I'm not telling you my name or number, and no, I'm not telling you where I live, or work, or where I'm going right now. You do not have the right to that information. Being female in a public street does not make me public property. Furthermore, none of these questions are appropriate conversation starters.

No, I am not flattered by you shouting at me from across the road that I am sexy, or by you muttering under your breath about physical acts you would like to perform with me. It is threatening, dehumanizing and offensive for you to reduce me to an object that exists for your commentary.

No, your (loudly expressed) opinion of my body or parts thereof does not entitle you to any of my attention. I am not being rude when I, paralyzed and fearful, pretend I did not hear what you said, you are being rude by saying it.

No, I do not have time for you. Regardless of whether my "man" would "trip" over it. I resent the implication that my man's opinion is the one that matters in this instance.

I resent that you made me feel that I had to let you know I was married to ensure my physical safety, because I knew from past experience that my own clear disinterest was not sufficient for you to leave me alone. You cross the line into being a clear threat to my safety when neither my polite disinterest nor even the fact of my marriage (read: unavailability) is enough to stop you from following me down the (otherwise empty) street and making further comments about my physical appearance.

I would love to be able to say "Sorry, I am not interested in you", but I know if I do, you will at least call me a bitch, and potentially become aggressive and physically threatening.

I hate that my concern for my physical safety in the moment means I have done nothing to dissuade you from harassing me and other women again.




*Note: This is an amalgam of too many street encounters both recent and past. This doesn't just happen to me, either. If you want to get angry, go to hollabackdc.wordpress.com. And can I also point out, street harassment has negative consequences for men too, because we women learn to mistrust and treat every man as a potential scumbag - if we don't, the ones who are scumbags interpret it as interest and encouragement, and it is not worth risking my safety to spare your feelings.

Yay! A new game!

Okay so there are a few variations on this game, I'm sure you've encxountered one or more at some time. But hey I thought it might be fun. I think Kurt will enjoy it at least : )

Take the name of a movie and replace significant words with "Your Mom". The longer the title and/or more famous the movie the better.

For example:
The Lion, The Witch and Your Mom
Star Wars VI: Return of Your Mom
and who could forget the classic Your Mom Goes To Washington?

All right blogosphere, whatcha got?
: )

Fat and fashion.

I saw this woman on the bus the other day that was just so damn fabulous.

She was enormously overweight, but she wasn't cute despite that; it added to the utter fabulousness. She had on this hot pink dress, a great color for her, that showed off her giant bazoombas, why not, and fell straight from under said bosom in a very flattering and yet not tent-like or phantom-pregnancy-inducing way.

She accessorized with giant silver hoop earrings with sparkly gems in them, chunky silver bangles, a giant silver handbag with square studs, and silver flip flops. I seriously could not stop just looking at her outfit. I just love super matchy looks. I am a sucker for matching, like, earrings and shoes and/or handbag. But also the whole outfit and her demeanor just exuded this fabulous rich fullness, like some kind of showy rainforest flower in full bloom.

So I swallowed my (intense, crippling) fear of initiating contact with fellow humans and stopped (on my way off the bus, because I am still a coward) to tell her that I just thought she was completely fabulous and I loved her whole look. She smiled and said "Thank you! I try, I try." I sincerely hope I made her day because really, her outfit made mine.

And I encourage you, my fellow humans, to do this also. Break out of the social convention of no eye contact! don't make eye contact! to tell someone that their t-shirt rocks, that you like their hairstyle, or that somehow you appreciate something they've brought to the world, sartorially or otherwise.

Reader Poll: It's just sour milk, really...

Do you pronounce it yogg-urt, or yo-gurt?

Please indicate your country of origin/residence so it can be taken into account with your answer.

Dear Cell Phone...

... how is hurrch a word, and hurrah isn't?

Hurrch is the sound that precedes the appearance of a soggy lump of pet hair and stomach fluids on the living room floor.

Bite Size...

"Luke, I am your father!"

"Noooo! That's implausible!"

Sweet, sweet candy.

I have been sadly lacking in sugar-related content on this blog lately, so here's a two-fer.

1. A recipe: Super Easy Peanut Butter Cups
(little chocolate cups filled with peanut butter, for those of you unaware of the glory)

Ingredients:
1 tub chocolate frosting
1 jar peanut butter, crunchy

Using a teaspoon, remove 1/2 teaspoon of chocolate frosting from the tub.
Using the same teaspoon now containing the frosting, remove 1/2 teaspoon of peanut butter from the jar.
Serve directly into mouth. Swirl if desired.
Repeat until suffused with the joy and wonder of life / insulin shock sets in.

2. Another blog about candy
(much more about candy than mine is, to be honest)

Richard, The Bewildered Brit, is a British expat living in the USA. He writes about the history of various candies, both famous and obscure, and includes reviews for your gustatory information! It went on my reading list because I like to hear other non-US born viewpoints on this place, because I like learning about things (in short bursts appropriate to my attention span), and (duh) because it's about one of my favorite things (candy, duh). I also imagine the blog's voice as a posh, Jeeves-like accent, which always makes things more enjoyable.

So in summation, you should read The Bewildered Brit, but only if it doesn't interfere with paying attention to me!

Clearly, no one could be a more appropriate candidate for the Sweet Blogger Award.

I think my cat is a Commie...

The evidence?

1. She regards everything as common property, especially anyone else's food.

2. She says "Mao!" all the time.

Case closed.


What political affiliations do you suspect your pets of?

Money Saving Tips

Do you guys ever see, in magazines or on morning shows, those bits about money saving tips? I don't know about y'all but they are never any help to me, they always look like this:

Bring a packed lunch to work instead of buying it every day!
(I have been bringing a packed lunch with me since I was five years old, I don't see myself stopping any time soon)

Get a manicure/pedicure once a month instead of every week!
(I've never had a manicure or a pedicure in my life)

instead of going to the hairdresser for streaks or a blow-dry, do your own hair at home!
(1. I haven't had dye in my hair since my last year of high school, and 2. I never let blow-driers near my hair, or even know how to use one)


Thanks, Moneybags McGee! I mean. Why don't they just go the whole hog?:


Instead of expensive Russian caviar, save money by buying Hungarian!

Buy chandeliers with fewer bulbs to save money on lighting bills!

Fire that expensive live-in maid & use a part-time maid service!


What are your money-saving tips for Richie Riches?

Maybe if he was called Totally Innocent Whale, but uh...

Okay so first of all I am sorry for being a crappy blog-friend and not reading all your completely brilliant blog posts lately. Trust me, it's not you, it's me. I'll try to do better if you'll just give me another chance... Here, see these Krispy Kremes I bought you? A dozen of your favorite flavor.

...Second of all, have y'all heard about the killer whale at SeaWorld that dragged his trainer under by her ponytail and drowned her? Oh, they tried to lull us into a false sense of security by calling themselves orcas, but it didn't take. Apparently this same critter had been involved in two other deaths as well, and SeaWorld is still acting like everything will be fine and he's not being kept away from people or whatever. (Or whatever? Great writing skills there, S&C. Don't give up your day job, honey).

Basically don't answer any Help Wanted ads at SeaWorld, is what I'm saying.

Remember the tiger that tried to maul Siegfried-or-Roy, and that surrogate-baby monkey that, like, ate someone's face? When will people learn? I mean, we cat-owners know that our cats would eat our corpses, but at least they'll wait until we die first. Hooray for domestication!

Travel tip

If the airport you're leaving from has a decent duty free section, go in and find the most expensive face moisturizer that has a tester available, and discreetly slather your face in it.
That one that's made out of, like, stem cells & lamb DNA should work, but the one I used was an some kind of organic, plant-based, thin greenish goo.
My face was still baby-soft, like, 26 hours and 3 planes later. Usually I get so dried out I look flaky as hell and wrinkled like a dried apricot.


What's your best travel tip?

Fashion forward, me.

Today I am sporting a glamorous ensemble of:

• vintage polar fleece top with custom grubbiness at cuffs and pockets

• mildly distressed t-shirt

• sweatpants with delicate all-over pilling, subtle remnants of the original screenprint motif and drawstrings gently chewed by a feline stylist

• sneakers wittily inspired by the stylings of rather more expensive sneakers, and accented with"paint-splatter" detail

All this paired with the fresh, natural "no make-up" look and the "messy" bun hairdo seen on runways throughout Fashion Week!

What's your Sunday best?

a love letter

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

you're so smooth
havarti

you ooze with charm
brie

you sound tough but really you're a big softie
monterey jack

it's endearing the way you squeak when I bite you
haloumi

you crumble at my touch
colby

even when you're so sharp it makes me wince, I can't help but love you
vintage cheddar


(Hint: highlight all the text to read between the lines)

What's the business?

Ice cold Dr Pepper is the business.

Unexpected windfalls involving cheeseburgers are the business.

Watching a movie you suspect is going to be a bit crap and then it turns out completely awesome is the business.

Sunshowers are the business.

Watching a kitten fall off the couch, backwards, attached by her claws to (what is now) the underside of a toppling cushion, with a surprised look on her tiny little face, is the business.

What's the business in your world?


PS - Does anyone want to write a lovely, family-friendly guest post for me? Clearly, I need the help.

Over to You: Sports Saturday (not a typo)

I'm not big on sports in general. I'm crap at playing them, and watching them on TV makes my eyelid twitch with boredom.

I do like going to see the odd live game though. I have been to see (Aussie) football, baseball and just recently ice hockey. It still depends on the sport; I'm pretty sure tennis would be cool too but cricket or American football would send me into a coma.

The ice hockey was actually a good experience. They were college teams, fairly talented and pretty closely matched, which is good. If you have no loyalty to either team it's not so interesting to see one of them get demolished.

They have all kinds of rules I was completely unaware of, but I didn't need to know about them. All you need to know is (1) get the puck into the right goal, and (2) bash the crap out of the guys in the other shirts, hopefully while the ref is not looking.

I'm not a particularly violent person but there was something very satisfying about large blokes sliding about and smacking into each other.

Also we were not close enough to see any blood if there was any, although one guy did stand up and yell "Take off your skate and slash his neck!" I'm pretty sure he was kidding... right?!

What about you, dear readers?
What sports do you like?
Do you prefer watching on TV, watching live or (*shudder*) playing them yourself?

Original Drafts XII

This one was suggested by Mr. & Candy, who has been listening to a lot of old music lately.

Over to You: Hump Day Positivity

First off, get your minds out of the gutter - Wednesday is called Hump Day because it's the middle of the week. It has nothing to do with when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much*.
In the interest of putting some positivity** into the blogosphere, I want you to tell me what you think is good about you as a blogger.

The rules: It has to be 100% positive. I don't want to hear any qualifiers, like "I'm funny, but not as funny as..." or "I'm so crappy it has to be entertaining". I want to know what you think is good about your blogging. If it's a particular post, please provide a link in your comment.

Everyone who participates will win this awesome award of awesomeness:



Maybe you use your bloggerly influence to try to save a sweet little pup like Miss Yvonne. Maybe you can guess all my Original Drafts without checking the hovertext like BeckEye. Maybe if I do too many more of those there won't be anything left for y'all to comment.


*Whereas Friday is called POETS Day (Piss Off Early, Tomorrow's Saturday).***

**I will not call it "positive energy". Hippies.

***Yes, I accidentally posted this Tuesday night instead of scheduling it for Wednesday. But guess what, it's probably Wednesday already in Australia, so shut up.

Original Drafts XI