Wireless 3.22.10

I have drank so much soda today that it is nothing short of a miracle that my bones are not crumbling to pieces as I type.

(Because that's why soda is bad right? It sucks the calcium from your bones?)

Anyhow, said soda has not gotten me very far. I half expected it to trigger some sort of story writing epiphany, but, it did not.

And so I have resorted to desperate plan numero 2.

Namely baked lays chock full of my favorite vitamin: letter B.

I know... You wish you could eat as healthy as me.

Currently, instead of focusing my full mind power on story writing, I am judging the woman by the drink machine who is filling up her water cup with some liquid that is clearly not water.

I am judging her less on the fact that she is stealing, and more on her poor choice of drink.

Obviously, she should have chosen something clear.

On an unrelated note, have I ever mentioned how much I hate eating in public places?

I prefer to eat in places where it is appropriate to spill.

Maybe if I was less of a judger, I wouldn't have to worry about people judging me and my propensity to spill.

That is going on my to-do list.

Become less of a judger.

I am feeling less judgmental already.

This is partly because I saw more people filling up the "water cups" with non-clear drinks, and I am starting to think that, perhaps, the lady was not trying to disguise iced tea as water after all.

Now that I have cleared that up, I can stop judging and begin focusing full mind power on story writing.

(Not that it will help, but it's certainly a step in the right direction.)

Besides, I'm pretty sure I'm just a few Lays away from a vitamin B-powered story writing epiphany.

Sometimes I Use a Recipe

And sometimes I do not use a recipe.

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You may or may not remember a few months back when I decided to create my own version of a cooking blog.

You also may or may not remember that the cooking blog didn't make it very far in life. Two posts, and then it just sort of fizzled off. (Sort of like the 1/4 cup of water I boiled the other day and then forgot about. It kind of fizzled off, too.)

What you don't know, is I actually cooked a series of meals* for my cooking blog, but never got around to posting them.

I am posting them (well, at least one of them) now. But there are a few rules you need to know first.

Soooo... here are [some of] the rules of the cooking blog.

1) I cannot use a recipe.

2) The meal must use a vegetable.

3) I cannot make a special shopping trip to acquire necessary ingredients. I must use items that are already in the kitchen.

4) I reserve the right to take 5,000 photos of the meal from whatever angle I deem appropriate or inappropriate.

5) Said meals are not actually intended for reproduction. Despite this, I will provide you with step-by-step instructions followed by a rating of the food. If you feel an uncontrollable desire to re-cook the meal, please reconsider.

Now, back to some things you may or may not remember. In November, I asked for suggestions for future food ideas for my cooking blog.

I got one suggestion (which, honestly, is more than I was expecting):

"You should do the ramen noodles that has an egg cooked into it and then a slice of cheese

melted on top, with hot sauce. Talk about an abomination."

It was from my friend Colton, who, apparently, would like me to choke on my own throw-up.

I did not cook and egg into the ramen, or put cheese on top.

By I did create something of an abomination.

*Written with pride.*

And I did use Ramen.

And I was inspired by the Pei Wei commercial about Ramen getting a bad rap.

And I did do absolutely nothing that would refute the bad reputation of Ramen.

And with that lengthy introduction, I give you--

Nameless Ramen Creation.

It starts with frozen chicken. Simmered in Apple Juice (maybe--probably, that sounds like something I would do).

Then you stick this bag of Asian vegetables straight in the microwave.

I love Steam Fresh.

I do not love their idea of seasoning.

SO I decided to add chili powder, pepper, and the chicken seasoning included in the Ramen package in order to give the veggies a little extra kick.

Incidentally, chicken seasoning, pepper, chili powder, Steam Fresh Asian seasoning and apple juice do not combine that well.

Speaking of Ramen...

It looks like this.

If you add oddly seasoned vegetables and almonds...

It looks like this.

Rating: Not terrible. It tasted like ramen, with seasoned snap peas in it.

But I felt like I needed to shower post eating it.

(If you just thought, WHAAA? Why did you need to shower? Then go eat some Ramen. You'll understand.)

*Meal is a relative term in this post. (Which is why it is usually, if not always, italicized in this post.) The word meal, for my purposes, implies something you can consume. Nothing more, nothing less.

Like the Stupid Girl I am

About once I year I go through this phase where I decide that I should probably just delete my blog.

(And for that matter, I should probably cut the cable lines, deactivate my facebook account, make sure my myspace isn't mysteriously floating around the internet still, and while I'm at it, throw my cell phone in a dark drawer where it cannot a) convince me that Arizona has decided to try out daylight savings time b) play embarrassing music in inappropriate situations and c) allow people to call me who I will ultimately ignore and feel bad about later. AND maybe become a Quaker for a year or two.)

But back to the blog thing, I have almost deleted this blog 3 times in the past week. Mostly because my brain in failing to come up with proper words, and I don't even own a thesaurus that could help the boring word situation.

And if I did have a thesaurus, that might make it worse, since I have a tendency to overuse cool new words, like country radio stations have a tendency to overplay that song about dancing down the hall and straight up the stairs.

(For the record, I like that song, but if I have to hear it one more time while I'm stuck in traffic on the 10, I might just have to put in a CD. And we all know that could be Dangerous. With a capital D. Because my CD case is way out of my near reach, and would certainly require me to take my eyes off the road.)

So, why am I here writing a hardly followable flow of words instead of hitting the delete button?

First, because I can't necessarily remember how to delete this thing.

And, second, I don't really know.

I think it may have something to do with the stupid girl I am.

The stupid girl I am likes writing.

She thinks a few good words can change the world.

Annndddd....The stupid girl I am likes complaining about overplayed country songs where the phrase "cut a rug" is actually used.

Where else would she complain about tacky lyrics in otherwise good country songs?

To Do

1. Write 50 page thesis.

2. Visit an art museum.

3. Learn something new.

4. Write an incredible story that makes someone cry.

5. Iron your freaking shirts, dang it!

(Do you want to come visit me at work tomorrow? I'll be the one wearing the 5-year-old homemade Finding Nemo t-shirt. Unless, of course, I can find something in my sister's closet.)

6. Become less of a judger.

a Post that Manages to Make me Sound incredibly Lame but Is supposed To be About serendipitous Moments and The smell Of books

I love books.

Not library books. Those ones don't smell good.

I love bookstore books.

And today I bought a book I'm afraid is going to make me cry until my tears run out.

I know the ending is sad.

And I hate sad endings.

But I bought it anyway.

Because on K-Love the other day they defined a God-shaped hole.

Which reminded me of this book that my best friend from freshman year loved, and told me I should read, but also shouldn't read--due to some raunchy situations.

And when K-Love was talking away on the radio about holes and such, I was already planning to go to the bookstore. I've been planning to go for a few weeks now.

Because my head gets straight there.

AND, because I thought maybe if I sat in a bookstore's Starbucks long enough, I would find a friend who wanted to talk about novels and life and philosophy with me.

I'm not kidding. I really thought that. Probably because I watch too many chick flicks. And also because I think it would be fun to have a bookstore friend. We could bond over our common love for the smell of books.

Anyhow, when I found the book today, I couldn't put it down.

Even though I already had two books to buy.

I tried to put it back, but it wanted me to read it.

And then, in a moment of indecisive despair, I called my sister and asked her if I should buy it, and she said yes.

And that's pretty much all I need to call the whole situation fate.

Well that, and this:

Chapter one, first line--

"If your intentions are pure, I'm seeking a friend, for the end, of the world."

Do you know what's even better than a bookstore friend?

A friend for the end of the world.

If You Have Received this Message, It Probably Means I'm Not Available to Talk Right Now. It Also Probably Means I Will Forget to Call You Back. BEEP

I'm really bad at returning phone calls and text messages.

Not that those of you who have known me longer than 5 minutes aren't wholly aware.

But what you probably don't know is, I think it may have something to do with my occasional habit of talking to myself.

Which reminds me, I need to sign up for ventriloquism classes. That way I can talk to myself in the car without getting weird looks from the Civic driver next to me. This, of course, would be particularly useful when I need to vent but don't want to bother anyone with my petty drama and don't feel inclined to hold the phone to my ear in a pathetic attempt to pretend I'm actually talking to someone on the other end of a phone line. Note to self.

Anyhow, back to the topic at hand: failing to return communication attempts.

Here's the basic process I follow when receiving a text or voicemail message.

1) Listen/Read.

2) Respond, out loud, with what I actually would like to say to the caller/texter.

Usually my response is something to the effect of, No I can't hang out with you this weekend. What if I'm too tired to leave my room? What if I need to cover a breaking news story? What if my future husband comes to my house selling bug spray, WHILE I'M GONE? Besides, I have important plans for this weekend--plans to sit on my couch and bite my nails.

3) Then I try to be rational. And realize that hanging out would probably be better than watching another Dora the Explorer re-run.

4) That's when my commitment-phobia kicks in and screams, Don't Do It!--Whatever you do, do not make a plan in advance.

5) I, without fail, listen to the crazy voice, and think of a nice way to say: I'd love to hang out, but I have to bite my nails--they're getting somewhat long, after all.

6) Then I look at my phone, willing myself to respond to the message. Just type that nice response you came up with into the little text box and press send, I think.

7) And finally, I put my phone down and promise to get back to the person when "I'm less busy."

Before long I forget that the person ever sent me a message, or sometimes just forget that I didn't respond. I did, after all, spend a very long time responding with my mind, and sometimes my mental to-do list thinks that counts.

So, my point is two-fold--

First, if you have left me an unanswered message within the last week, I'm sorry. I've been even worse than usual at getting back to people the last few days.

Second, I'm wondering if I should try to provide a brief explanation when I finally set up a voicemail recording for my phone.

Like, for instance, "Hi, this is Alec. Leave me a message. But please don't expect me to respond. Unfortunately I have in my possession one of the few remaining phones that only works one way." BEEP

Or, "Hi, you have reached Alec's answering service. Alec will be out of cell phone range for the next 2 weeks (or possibly 2 years), but will be returning calls upon her arrival. Please leave a message so she can call you just as soon as she has exited the Galapagos Islands." BEEP

Or something simple like, "Hey, this is Alec. Please state your intentions. Your name and phone number would also be appreciated." BEEP

And then there's always the honesty route, "This is Alec. If you are calling to try to schedule something in advance, please hang up and call back later. I am scared of most things advance. I feel it is somehow an infringement on my freedom. I like to have the right to choose. And I tend to make plans in 5 minute increments. If you are a recording, I don't even believe that you're going to book me a cruise. If you're being serious, please mail me the ticket. If you are calling for a reason not mentioned above, please leave a name, a number and a brief list of reasons why I should return your call." BEEP

Or how about this, "Please understand, if I don't return your call, it does not mean I hate you. Leave a comment after the beep."

BEEP

Tobacco: Smelly, Teeth Staining, Puking, Etc. Etc. Etc.

There is a squashed up, already-smoked, cigarette in my room.

I guess it's time to teach Roxy about the harmful effects of nicotine and tar.

Oh Roxy, if the reason for your old woman hacking is an addiction to the Camel brand, I am going to be so disappointed.

First of all, because I spent five dollars on off-brand, human allergy medication that was advertised as dog and cat meds.

Second of all, because I don't brush your teeth everyday for you to go ruin those pearly whites with nasty cigarette smoke.

(Okay. Whatever. So I don't really brush your teeth everyday. But that is still not a reason to take up smoking.)

Third of all, I can't condone smoking. There are certain things that you have the right to choose, like whether you will sleep 6 or 8 hours per day. But other things, like the brand of dog food you eat, how much dog food you eat, whether we go to the park on any given day, what route we take when we go on a walk, the time of night that you can go outside and use the grass for business-doing, how often you are dressed up in my build-a-bear's cheerleading outfit, when you get a Milkbone and, most importantly, if you are allowed to smoke, are completely up to me.

Roxy, I realize that you are probably not smoking, nor addicted to nicotine, nor aware that there is a cigarette brand named Camel.

I also realize that that nasty little cigarette is near the area where I keep my shoes, and it probably just got stuck to the bottom of one said shoe before I walked inside.

But, this is still a serious problem.

That squashed up cigarette is seriously grossing me out.

And I made a vow to myself a long time ago that I would never pick up a cigarette, even while doing community service in the park when the purpose was to pick up litter.

And so now, until I get the vacuum, that cigarette bud will just live in my room, perpetually grossing me out and somehow making me feel like a bad person. Like a bad person who probably subconsciously smokes cigarettes. Or a bad person who smokes cigarettes while she's asleep.

That would, after all, explain all those guilt-ridden dreams, from 10 years back, in which I smoked because it was the only way I could land a role in an episode of Full House...or something like that.

Just so you know, Mr. Full House casting director, I won't smoke OR even pick up the nasty, squashed-up cigarette on my floor--not even for a role as the third Mary Kate and Ashley.

You want to know why?

Because Tobacco is a smelly, teeth-staining, puking, etc. etc. etc. habit.

And probably just picking up that wadded bunch of nicotine will stain my teeth.