Fizzy Raisin Hooch Yeast. You know you want to look.

I am up to some bread hijinks.  That's what passes for excitement for me right now.  Bread.  Hijinks.  For Science. 

So I've been watching some youtubes about baking.  I'll tell you,  Readers, you get some fancy ideas when you go on a late night youtube trip that begins with stupid Michele Bachmann montages; carrying through to Jon Stewart arguing with Glenn Beck; then onward-ho to evolution arguments and talented dogs with a finish, obviously on bread recipes (with a little of this and a little of that thrown in for good viewing measure).  Youtube is a strange animal.  It placates me and puts me into a hypnotic, vapid state; for youtube hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.  Or something.

In any case, one youtube video resulted in me making THIS:

Raisin Experiment Day 1

Day 2.  OMG. 

This, everyone,  is future natural bread yeast- from raisins.  RAISINS.  Shut up, you guys. Let's all just accept that I know it looks like a jar of something digested and that raisins are gross to begin with.  That is beside the point here.  Anyhow, I didn't know it would get that sick looking.  The point is that they are raisins and they've begun to float; which is apparently a crucial sign of success in the process of turning raisins into bread yeast according to the lady on youtube (who doesn't speak English but whatevs).

I am so excited that the raisins are floating.  Aren't you? 

And you know, you guys, if this works, I'll never have to pay $3 for a year's worth of store-bought yeast again!!  The savings!  Plus it's a little bit sciency and I am about 8000% sure it will result in some remarkably ugly bread.  Until then, I have to wait for the raisins to fizz which I guess takes 7-10 days.  Then just 7 more days of letting it ferment into raisin hooch yeast.  Let the good times roll.  

So anyway, that isn't all, you guys.  I am ALSO trying out a new bread recipe (also found via a weird youtube/google blend), which you may be stunned to find out, calls for neither oil nor sugar.  If you are some kind of kitchen genius with mad bread skillz like me, you will understand why this is baffling.  Firstly, I've never made bread without these 2 ingredients and Secondly (and mostly), why would anyone make anything without oil and/or sugar?  Like seriously.   I am finding out.  So far it IS raising and it does look like Michael Moore which, in the world of bread dough, is good I guess.

Actual photo. 

I don't know why I need to photoshop celebrities onto my bread, you guys.   It is not something that has been diagnosed yet.   You just enjoy it and stop asking questions.  

This is how Batman got his start...

(I find these photos of my soul mate, here, pretty much irresistible.)

...His mom sewed him a bat-hooded beach towel and it just kind of got out of control.

I made one for my soon-to-be 7 year old tonight, but he's in bed so he couldn't model it. Neil graciously modeled in his stead. If I can just get him to take it off, I'll give it to Ben.....

Now watch this while you think about those photos:

Newsletter

1. Thank you, Charlotte, for my fancy new header. Now I don't have to use the Carmen Miranda/Me photoshop hybrid that I made myself. It arrived JUST in the knick of time.

2. Kate received her MaIIiiIiLLLLL *last week cough*. In return for the smashing green skittle hat that she made and gifted me, I made her this:

Because if there is one thing that I know about Kate, it's that she LOOOOOOOOVES her owl handicrafts. I haven't mastered macrame yet, though Kate. You'll have to go visit her blog to see the thoughtful note that I attached.

I have since made another sock-beast for something-better-than-a-sock-beast deal (actual, credible, beautiful art as opposed to the mess that I come up with) and I am looking forward to watching the beastie that I am planning, rise up and come to life.... well not to life because if it did that, it might bite my legs off. That's the kind of personality it's got. My point is that I like this new sock beast currency I have going on.

The grueling and elaborate design phase.

I wonder if this is how God feels when he's at his craft table, creating people. Are we made from his old socks? Does he laugh fiendishly while planning out our flaws? Doesn't he ever get tired of it? Sockliness is close to Godliness. I just made that up... oh you could tell? Oh. So I shouldn't be a televangelist? WELL. All I know is that this is the second time in as many weeks that socks made of people have been discussed.

Actually, this deserves its own post.

I originally added it to the last post, since that's where stick men break dancing was really investigated in depth, but anyway... Ha. I totally sort-of can make a stick man do the worm.

booooo

Now I feel like I'll be able to sleep tonight.

Holy Smokes. Sock beast redux.

His name is Gossamer. He's the Streetster bunny-Get it? *laughing ensues* He's the Smoking Bun *people are doubling over from that hilarious joke of mine* Perfect for that new baby. He is made of a brand new sock and his cigarette is organic & cushy soft with no small parts, no choking hazard here, it would make a perfect gift for that new little bundle of joy.

I know, I know.... Hell.
Sewing is soothing & fun, though.

It crawled from the dark, hidden depths of the the dryer..

Back from where the stray socks wander astray, starry eyed- looking for a new beginning, they emerge as MonStErs, forever changed, tired of being walked all over! They scramble out from your drawers, hungry and hunting for human feet...

Alright. Maybe I was drinking and sewing, mumbling and laughing to myself like a drunken, twisted homemaking sock fiend.

Tada.

To be perfectly honest, I wish I could have found nice clowns. At least these ones are honest. Neil says he likes his clown pants, which ruined everything and made me tell him that he's practically John Wayne Gacy, after which he made THIS face at me:

And I am still trying to figure out what it means.

The love of my life.

The really great news is that my parents got me a sewing machine. This is great for the following two reasons, which are: a)I will be able to MAKE Neil's Christmas pants and b) I am a terrible seamster. (FYI I couldn't write sew-er without calling myself a terrible sewer). Anyhow, the point here is that I can now give Neil poorly sewn, super unique pants!! Maybe I'll sew ruffles onto his clown pants, or maybe I'll sew the arms of his tshirts all shut.

The time Yoda was heaping mountains of mental battery upon me in Chapters.

So today at Chapters, I was sort of minding my own business, perusing the advanced literary genius books when I heard some audible warbling... Someone was reading out loud. Fine. Someone must have just been reading an interesting passage to their shopping partner, right? WRONG. SO WRONG. This grown person was reading a magazine OUT LOUD in the store; all by them self. Just sitting there on the leather ottoman reading away an article in a magazine for the world to hear without even flinching. WELL. This is unacceptable behavior. Completely unacceptable.

So I got a little closer to have a listen, perhaps this person had found some kind of important article about the world's impending doom that must be given attention. Nope. It was an article about 'TWILIGHT' *shudder*. EwWWwwwwww. I was overcome with self righteousness and had to stare at her back from my little nest of books in the genius section. I stared DAGGERS at her. DAGGERS, you guys.

The imaginary conversation I had with her is as follows and is hence forth to be acted out by lego men in the medium of photographic storyboarding. She being Lego Yoda (in her ugly orange sweater) and me, The Lego Princess Leia (in her limited vestments). Here is how it all happened in my sophisticated mental faculties:

YODA: ...blah blah... release for NEW MoOn will be less than a MONTH away... *more muttering about Rob Pattinson* something something, collector's edition...

ME AS LEGO PRINCESS LEIA: HEY YOU! You are supposed to twitter with your Macintosh Apple Iphone, Jackass! *snicker snicker* Not OUT LOUD to strangers. And guess what? There appears to be nothing wrong with you apart from the fact that you're reading People magazine OUT LOUD to nobody. *snicker* So what's up with you, FOUR EYES? Get it? It's funny because you have glasses. Well you would if it was the real you acting this out and not Lego Yoda, who does not wear glasses, nor can I make any as I am out of pipe cleaners AND twist ties. *cough*

YODA: Huh? I can't afford an apple iphone.

ME AS BEAUTIFUL, SLIM LEIA: "Waaah... I don't have an apple IPHONE"... OH kvetch kvetch kvetch. That just makes you inferior and laughable (however somewhat lovable). Don't you even watch the apple advertisements? We "Mac" geniuses are cool and all down to earth and calm and helpful about every single thing on earth and wear practical, yet stylish blue sweaters all the time and you "non apple supporting people" are frantic, out-of-touch-with-couture twits. Hello?? Are you listening to me? It's even been recorded by the media? Besides, if you look at what I'm possibly going to be purchasing, you'll be embarrassed at yourself to see that it's an interesting glance at the common misuses of English grammar *chuckle*. Hilarious stuff. And you? Cultureless CELEBRITY RAG? Your so simple. Must be nice.

STUPID LEGO YODA: HA HA HA. You just said, "your", instead of, "you're" which was completely grammatically inappropriate.... And you fancy yourself a Grammar Stickler...*chortle*

LEIA THE TANTALIZING: What? No.... I didn't. I couldn't have.

YODA THE YODELING YAKHERDER: Yes you did.

LEIA THE SMART AND BRAVE: What are you even talking about, outloud-reader-to-nobody person? Your not making cent's.

YODA THE HUGE BULLY: You're doing it again. Your grammar is atrocious.

LEIA (the melancholy): STOP IT! STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!

CHAPTERS FLOOR MANAGER: AW hell. YOU AGAIN?! I'm going to have to ask you to leave again, MICHELLE. Hand over the Starbucks cups.

LEIA: Um, I think you're confused. My name is Lego Princess Leia.

Floor Manager: Look, Freak- we've already contacted the police. I don't know how you slipped past security, anyway. Must be the clever disguise.

The REAL Princess Leia: You won't get away with this. You're wrong. You're ALL WRONG!!! YOU'LL SEE!!! AHAahahHHAhahahahahHHHAA!!

Then I swing away into the city on the spideywebs which I can shoot out of my wrists, pursuing the trail of Yoda (the lone outloud reader), who has slipped away unnoticed, of course.

Until next time, Lego Yoda... Until next time...

What a thing of beauty, huh? (or Foghorn Leghorn full of Grace.)

MmmMMmmm...

I violated it with bread just this morning and put it in the oven. It's always kind of embarrassing stuffing a turkey, like I feel like I should have gotten written consent before stuffing my hand in it's cavity, or that a nurse should be present or something to make sure I'm being professional and it feels as comfortable as possible while it's little turkey legs are up in the little tiny stirrups, waiting for the invasive procedure. Poor turkey. But I always make sure I thank the turkey for letting me shove it's butt full of bread and onions and seasoning and such. It's Thanksgiving, after all. I think the turkey would be happy to be violated for my dinner AND excellent blog. Looks good, huh? Sure dooooes. That is unless you're a vegetarian. If you are, you're probably all grossed out and like:

"AAAAAAAAAAAUGH!" Or something.

PS. Thanks to Michael for the clever Foghorn analogy. I need it to be a real movie. Follow Michael on Twitter AND youtube. Do. It.

How is Fluffy Sparkles adapting to the kitten, you ask?

This morning's mouse arrangement.

Maybe she needs counseling, she seems to be taking her anger out inappropriately. I dunno. I'm going to slip some leftover brandy in her catfood later.

Hungry, Apathetic Space Dragons.

So here is a little 4x4 inch painting that I did today, based on a doodle that I draw all of the time, have for years. The dragons are usually eating a series of things, depending on what I'm talking about on the phone while I draw them. Sometimes a blimp, sometimes people's heads, sometimes a giant mole, sometimes the earth etc etc.... today it's a spaceship... because that iswhat is awesome to me today.

Maybe I'll paint all of them. Maybe I'll make a series based on all of my tabletop doodlies. Maybe even the elephant with self image issues.... hmm.... I'm pretty sure this whole gig will make me ultra rich- or if anything, my kid likes them. I'll hang them in his room. :)

Facilitating your weight gain.

You're welcome. So I snagged this recipe for 5 minute chocolate cake. Made in a cup... for one person. It's like some sort of... cup... or... mugcake™.

I thought, "Eh, what the hell. Worst case scenario, it'll be a star in my ugly bread category if it's horrible and grotesque.", then I thought about how fun it was at the grocery store when I'd hauled my kids in, grocery shopped, got to the check out and realized I had no wallet and had to go home to get it. Then I thought about the bird crap on my vehicle. Then I remembered that funny .gif of David Hasselhoff's hypnotic speedo. Then I remembered about the cake.

(Try and move past this hypnotic animation and finish reading my blog entry. Also, if you happen to be hypnotized now, vote for me- and send money.)

"Okay, Self, lets make this sucker." I said out loud.

So I did... say it... and make it. And it was awesome. More plum puddingy textured but extra chocolate-induced coma-ish and less disgustinger than plum pudding (more delicious is what I'm saying). I suggest using some white chocolate chips for extra fanciness.

So the bottom line is that this recipe is evil and of the devil because any idiot (read: idiot=me) can make it- and make it often.

So here's the recipe:

Chocolate mugcake for lazy people who want good cake right the &%$# now:

4 tablespoons flour
4 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa

1 egg

3 tablespoons milk

3 tablespoons oil

3 tablespoons chocolate chips

a small splash of vanilla extract

1 large coffee mug

Add dry ingredients to a big microwave safe (that's advice for you extra idiotic idiots) mug. Mix the crap out of them with a fork. Pour in the rest of the stuff and mix mix mix, making sure you get all the dry ingredients mixed out of the bottom. Add vanilla and mix some more.

Stick it in the microwave and cook it on high for 3 minutes. Watch it with glee as the cake rises over the top of the cup. Worry and fret that it's going to boil all over, then squeal with delight when it doesn't, it just poufs all up like a soufflé. Feel disappointed when the steam escapes at the end of cooking time and the cake deflates a little. Dump it on a plate if you're feeling fancy. Observe that many of the chocolate chips migrated toward the bottom and take note so that if you ever have to share it in the future, you can ensure that you get the bottom part. Put ice cream on it. Eat it. Repeat it.

This post brought to you by: Booze in my breakfast cereal.

Well. It's 8:06 am and I have had a most wonderful start to my day/continued day from yesterday- seeing as nobody got to sleep- thank you Eleanore's new tooth. We awoke to a chattering baby girl in her crib and an aroma resonating in through our nostrils and out through our ears. At first I thought it might have been my breath. Then I glared at Neil because surely it was HIS. Nope. It all registered in my brain too quickly.

Eleanore pooped the crib, then did some artwork. The little blessing from Heavenly Heaven who I love and adore and forgive and cherish from her piggy tails to her poop caked feet. If you could see the grin plastered across my face, you'd know how much I mean it.

The angel of reek.

Now I'm not going to be one of those parents who claims that the Virgin Mary appeared in the baby's poop-art but I'm telling you- it might have been the last supper (Get it? OH so FUNNY. No it wasn't. Sorry). No it was just the regular poop smears. Don't tell Neil, but so far she's no Picasso. Bev Doolittle maybe.... but not Picasso.

I'm delirious. I didn't sleep. It's not my fault that I am making vague-puns. I have acid reflux, too. I'm all out of rolaids. I woke up to a poopchild. I'm falling apart! Don't leave me.

Drinking & Drawing

Lookie here, Space Campers. This here is what Neily & I do for fun on a Friday night. Yep. We stop at nothing to find ourselves a good time. So- we drink and make fun of people with our pencils/pens/own blood if we have to . Fine- the blood part was a lie.

Aaaanyway, as you'll notice, emaciated elephants kept popping up in our creative adventure. Weird eh? I'll just leave that one open to interpretation.


Cool us.


*snicker* Holy Moley! *snicker*


Our child depicted as a brain eater. Timeless.


Doodly McWhateverski


Neil one-upping my classic- Catbutt.
Ouch.


?


Maintaining your image is difficult in the spotlight.


Eleanore- 5:00am



There.

Now you've shared in some of the fun. What more do you want from me???

Pantyhose & creole succotash.

So, a touch of drama hit my life for a while there, Nerdherd. I won't elaborate but you'll be pleased to know that I've tucked it all away neatly again like a canned spring snake & it's now safely hidden amongst my campbell's soup and tinned corn niblits with all of the labels peeled off for the next time.

I am entertaining some pretty fancy company tonight. I'm making rum ribs & succotash. Need dessert idears, though.... Something with chocolate and preferably heavy cream & maybe lard. Y'know, something I could bread, deep fry and dump whipped cream, cookie dough & booze onto. Maybe crumble some chips on there as well for decoration.

Speaking of decorations, I'm off to work on my pantyhose-squirrel table centerpiece. Gotta give the glue on those googly eyes time to dry. Don't want a pantyhose squirrel's googly eye falling in anyone's baby duck at dinner.

Just take a gander at this book, fans! Why just look at the cover! WHAT A GOLDMINE OF IDEAS!! A pantyhose quilt??!! Pantyhose with metal circles in them hanging from the window as curtains???!! A pantyhose Duggar Family??!!? SIGN ME THE %$#@ UP!