but anyway, my phone rings today out of the blue and i mostly recognize the number so i answer.  there is a very pleasant woman on the phone from rcn asking me how my day was going and if my service was working out for me.  for those that don’t know, asking how a service is working out for you is usually a pre-cursor to them saying you are behind on your bill.  thankfully i wasn’t.  she asked if there was anything that she could do to help me have a better experience.  so, like a jackass, i say ‘can you help me lower my bill but not drop services?’ in a slightly perky and totally serious response she says ‘sure, i can drop the price of your dvr rental by $5 a month’.

totally taken aback, and again like a jackass i say ‘so what’s the catch? is there a commitment [read: contract]?’.  she politely just says ‘no, no commitment, it’s just a promo we’re running. anything else i can do?’ as i pickup my jaw from the floor i just said ‘nope, that’s it.  thanks again.’

so thank you rcn for actually giving a damn, actively helping me cut my bill but not cutting service.  thank you for looking out for your customers, unlike a certain company that has to rebrand their services to hopefully help improve their image.  yeah, that’s right comcast, i’m looking at you.  nobody’s being fooled by your xfinity bullshit.

standard white crust, ranch dressing as the sauce (low or no fat dressings need not apply), crumbled bacon, chopped chicken and lots of mozzarella cheese.  cook until golden brown and enjoy.

normally i don’t go for this sort of thing but i tried a slice.  how did it taste? addicting.  let’s put it this way, if i were to make a mathematical equation out of this it would look something like this: fat + fat + fat = delicious.   in this case with every successive bite i felt more and more like that sloth dude from the movie seven.  i think i could actually hear myself getting fatter each time my teeth chomped on the bites.  now i love ranch dressing just as much as the next guy, but this, this was too far.  try it for yourself, but be warned, you might feel the same way.

well imagine my surprise when i get a little tongue tied speaking to my wife tonight and she calls me out on it.  we were talking about a picture and i said that we had seen it, she replied “no, we haven’t, see…” as she turns her laptop in my direction.  to which the only response that came out of my sober mouth was “we did definitely not did see that”

fail.

okay gals, the colts are in blue and white and the saints are in black and gold.

the quarterbacks are drew brees, he’s cute, and peyton manning

you want to be able to join in the conversation with the guys so here’s some great tips on what to say to talk-the-talk

say something like “they need to run a play action pass right now”

or “we could really use a blitz”

first off: she is making all women look bad, even when you likely don’t and probably play along well enough.  let me put it to you this way: you should just nod politely instead of following her advice.  here’s why: invariably, although you might mean well, you might say as the colts are on offense and your husband is rooting for the colts, that they really need a blitz.  ding: wrong answer.  cue more beer.

don’t sound stupid.  i’m not saying to just sit there and shut up, just choose your words wisely.  you don’t want us telling you that you look fat in that outfit right?  we just say nothing.  please do everyone the same courtesy.

well cock pants brought it to my attention and it’s about time to remedy that.  i’m back.

let me start back a few months ago.  i got a small pit bull named max from a shelter.  yeah yeah, i’m allll considerate and adopting and whatnot.  this was against the advice of my girlfriend who suggested i get the dog from a breeder.  whatever.  in any case i bring max home and proceed to the usual steps of: dog gets home to new place, pees on floor, i clean up, i scold dog, dog pees again, i clean up and once again scold dog, dog craps on floor, i get fed up and clean up and dog bites me.  welcome home asshole.  way to do something nice.

fast forward a few months later and the dog for whatever reason hates my girlfriend.  she tried to like him, she really did.  but a couple times he came close to damn near taking her hand off when she held out a bone and he went for it.  the other night i was fucking around with him and the goddamn thing bit my fucking hand, broke skin and left like 9 teeth marks.  

so i had it.  i called animal control for them to come and take care of the dog for me.  and by ‘take care’ of the dog i mean i’m okay with them handling it like the mafia did.  with my tax dollars hard at work the animal control woman arrived 3 hours later.  punctual and fast moving.  she shows up and says “we gotta call about a dog“.  i said “yeah, he’s locked in my bedroom, do whatever the hell you want“.  now, i’m not one to preach about abusing animals.  i loved and cared for max, but the fucker actually bit me and not just once, i actually lost count.  that’s how many times he bit me.  done deal, he’s out.

i swear as she was wrangling the dog she actually picked up a call on her headset.  what the fuck.  so she loads the dog in the back of her van and is doing the paperwork.  now, in theory, i’m not actually asking for any sort of sensitivity or compassion since i’m asking her to euthanize my dog but the whole ‘i’ve done this so many times i’m a robot‘ thing just wasn’t cutting it.

name? she barks at me.  can you spell that? she snaps.  where’d you get the dog? i need to see a photo id? an id, why didn’t you just ask for that rather than make me spell my name?  alright all set, just sign here and we’ll euthanize your dog.  and that was it.  with the swift hit of a pen on a 3 copy sheet of paper over a metal clipboard my dog was out of my life.  again, my tax dollars hard at work.  now i’m off to go buy some cleaner for my carpet before my landlord sees the piss stains.  it’s now time to give billy mayes some more of my cash.

now bear in mind, these aren’t specific to me, as i am not logged into google at the moment and my account doesn’t keep search history, nor does my browser keep any history beyond a session.  here’s what was suggested when i searched for: possible to

personally i find it hilarious that a possible search is “possible to iterate multiple times over an iterator“.  what is that? and more importantly, who searches for that?  so as a follow-up i searched for: what are the chances

the scary part was that out of the top 10, 9 of them were dealing with pregnancy in some way.  have we lost our minds?  got any other really normal searches that get some super-random results?  hit us up and let us know.

when i was training for the marathon i had to modify my diet heavily.  i mean you wouldn’t believe what happens when you train that heavily and put refined stuff in your system.  anyway one of the products i came across in the store was the larabar.  it’s marketed as a healthy snack.  they were selling for $1.60 a piece.  i pickup one up and really liked it.  but as i was eating it i couldn’t help but think that it was too simple.  i mean it was too simple of a bar.  it had only 2 ingredients: dates and cashews.  i thought to myself that i could do better myself.  you know what, i did.  here’s what one looks like from the larabar website:

as you can see it’s really simple and let’s be honest it doesn’t look that appetizing.  oh well.

and here’s the recipe for mine (yield 14 bars) equivalent to 14 larabars:

• 1# (16 ounces) dates – check the whole foods bulk bins
• 1/2# (8 ounces) cashews – i prefer the trader joe’s roasted/unsalted kind

1. place the cashews in a food processor and pulse to chop.  be careful not to chop too fine as you’ll make a powder.
2. pit the dates and place in a bowl.  microwave the dates for 15 seconds on high.  remove the bowl from the microwave and mash with the back of a fork.  (this part is hard, but the results are worth it) alternately you can try a potato masher.  continue mashing until they form a smooth paste.  they will still be slightly warm.
3. add the nuts in 2 stages to the dates mixing with a spatula (or better yet) your hand.  keep mixing until fully incorpated.
4. take a brownie pan and wipe the inside with a few drops of water.  cover the inside plastic wrap and work out any air bubbles.  this doesn’t need to be perfect either.  add the date/nut mixture to the brownie pan and push into the corners to spread evenly.  place plastic wrap over the top and let sit for 2 hours.
5. turn out onto a cutting board or back of the brownie pan.  cut into 14 even bars and wrap each one in plastic wrap.  leave in the cupboard until ready to eat.  they travel well and are a great afternoon snack or easy to throw in a kids lunch bag.

and here’s what we get:

and how did we do in terms of money?  well let’s see.  if you buy them online a box, with shipping, of 16 bars will cost you $26.45. a cost of $1.65 per bar.

mine cost $9.50 for 14 bars.  a cost of $0.67 per bar.  save yourself around $1 per bar.  man, that’s easy money.

i really hope you give them a try at home since they are easy to make and really addictive.  let me know what you think.

i can take being number 117, i can take the mixing smell of body odor and deep fryer oil, i can take the crying babies and obnoxious ringtones that are played too loud by people who can find their fucking cell phone when it rings, and i can take the fact that it’s standing room only and that i didn’t bring a book.  fuck me.  what i can’t take is the stupid people who march right up to the counter, interrupt the person who decides whether or not to give you money (brilliant fucking idea asshole) only to utter the most despised words at the unemployment office: but i only have a question.  

hey rim job, we all have questions.  all 117 of us, we all have questions, that’s why we’re here.  do you think for a second i would be here if i didn’t need the money?   i don’t care that you think this is bullshit, we all do, all 117 of us.  i don’t care that you don’t have time for this.  do you think any of us do?

i’m reminded of fight club when this is happening.  you know what asshole: you’re not different, you’re not unique, you’re an individual and you certainly aren’t special like you’re mother kept telling you all those years.  you’re a number just like me.  now grab you’re number, sit down, turn off your cell phone, shut the fuck up and wait you’re turn like the rest of us.  

and for the record: it took 4 hours, to the minute, for me to get to speak to someone.  what did that amount to in monetary terms: the equivalent of $2.87 per hour.  yes, i make per hour somewhere between what soldiers and prisoners make, though with less chance of death or anal rape.  for that small bit i am somewhat grateful.

ohio state football is the ultimate tip tickler or commonly referred to as a blue-baller.  you show up to the bar smoking hot and ready for action. you wear your friday underpants, which is code for someone is going to take my pants off and see that i am a party girl and my holiest of holy is going to get some work.  i buy you drinks, we sweet talk and make out in the bar.  i live off campus and you dont so i am in like flynn.  we get naked and diddle around. me with the bean and you with the atari game stick. then, you go to the bathroom. in that bathroom you have a revelation.  the town bicycle no longer is up for riding and you are turning over a new leaf.  you become the anti christ.  you want to cuddle, remember that you have a boyfriend 400 miles away and forget the fact that if the police asked anyone on campus to sketch your poonany 50 people could describe it to the hair. there is no joy in mudville and i cant even pick up the bat anymore after all of the crying.  i am sober and pissed that the other sure thing is in the next room getting worked like a big mac in ethiopia by my roommate that cant even spell.  maybe a handjob you say, ohio state, demon of football.  watching you is like a handjob with a chick wearing sandpaper gloves. no thanks.  Now find your own way home.