Peace the Spork Out, Halloween

It’s Halloween in the World of Beth, and in a last-minute panic, I’ve decided to pay tribute to the things that I love best – flamboyant and witty gay boys and celebrity gossip. Welcome to Pink is the New Halloween Costume. Slap on some celebrity photos and you're good to go!

(Slightly stoned appearance and princess tiara optional.)

Amy Sedaris, I like you.

I will say this for Martha Stewart – never once in her many books on hospitality and housekeeping does she feature a poster of herself covered in frosting and sprinkles. Nor does she advise on what to prepare for when, say, a lumberjack comes to dinner. And I’m fairly certain Martha’s never included a guide to giving oneself a proper breast exam in the same chapter that she mentions taxidermied squirrels and homemade lemon frosting.

Leave it to her new book that I recently picked up at Barnes and Noble. Now I can be domestic AND get my freak on. Thanks, Amy Sedaris!

A historic day in World of Beth

As my loyal readers can attest, I have a really, really, really passionate dislike for eels. They give me the heeby-jeebies of the worst kind. And every single day for as long as I have had this blog, they have been included on my list of Things I Do Not Enjoy.

But today heralds a new dawn for the eels because I have found a new creature that has surpassed them in both blechiness, scariness, and lately, just plain audacity and showmanship.

This morning I opened my Internet to find the headline, "Stingray Jumps Onto Boat, Stabs Man." Read that again. It took me a few times to actually process what I was reading. A stingray actually resembles a fish-like Kleenex with a face. This fact makes this story all the more amazing and terrifying. ONE OF THEM JUMPED ONTO A BOAT AND STABBED A MAN.

For as creepy as they are, eels have never once jumped onto a boat and stabbed anyone (that I know of). Clearly the stingrays are becoming more aggressive and creative in their ways to freak the bejesus out of their human counterparts.

And for that, readers, they have REPLACED EELS AS THE CONSISTANT THING THAT BETH DOES NOT ENJOY. Drumrolll please.....

Open Letter to Celery

Hi Celery,

Why do you have to be so awful? Right now I'm nibbling on you and cursing myself for ever having thought up the idea of bringing you to work as a healthy snack. Everytime I sit down and try to give you another chance, I am a little bit sadder and more disgusted for the experience.

Look, Celery, I'm trying to take small steps towards a "lifestyle change" by incorporating veggies like you into my diet. But it's your ridiculous, almost comically noisy personality, mixed with your consistent bland flavor and mouth-full-of-spongely-floss sensation that continues to keep us apart.

Maybe like the wise scribe from ABBA said, "knowing me, knowing you....there is nothing we can do." I do wish it could have worked out, Celery. Please have your homeboy cucumber give me a call if you happen to see him in the crisper later on.

Best,

Beth

Open Letter to the professional cat-sitter who refused to cat sit Mrs. Puff because it would (quote) "break his heart"

Dear Inappropriate Pet Sitter Guy,

I try to use my blog for good instead of evil. I try not to be That Girl who rants in excessive detail about my friends, my work, my politics etc. But when I inquired about your possibly cat-sitting my cat over the holidays, I must say your reaction surprised and offended me enormously. You have given me no choice but to go off and rip you a new one in my blog.

Without ever having met me or my cat, your email response stated that the experience of visiting the 25-pound Mrs. Puff would "break (your) heart to see her before, during and after visiting her." You stated that "some people might find fat cats cute or funny, but I just see an uncomfortable animal who probably can't run around and play, can't jump onto a window sill, or pull herself up to the top of a kitty condo., and who will probably die young."

You stated you would be "bummed out big time seeing your cat" and went on to lecture me about the risks of feline obesity ("diabeties, and other terrible illnesses, through no fault of their own..."), letting me know that you apologized to your 16-pound cat the last time he got weighed ('I'm sorry I let you eat to much.').

Where do I even begin with this, sir? Look, on one hand, I appreciate your concern for my cat's welfare. I do. But you know nothing about my cat or how I, or her veteranian, care for her. I don't really appreciate your lecturing me about my pet's health, diet, weight, and prognosis for a healthy rest of her life. The snide implication that I keep my cat fat for my own amusement is totally out of line. You're not really in a position to pontificate about how mobile or comfortable or healthy my cat is, never have seen or interacted with her. The repeated mentions of how "bummed out" and heartbroken you would be during the cat-sitting experience is melodramatic beyond compare. Even the most well-intentioned animal lover need not be a guilt-tripping judgemental ass.

So, phew. Thanks for getting back to me about the pet-sitting gig, but next time, just decline politely and spare your potential customers the side dish of judgement you served me.

Meow,
Beth

I'm a happy (non) camper now

In happy online shopping resource news, this site is not just an online fridge magnet powerhouse, but it features this fabulous magnet, which was just given to me as a special surprise giftie. Way to support my love of both non-camping activities and fridge magnets, buddy!

Bad Dreams

Last night I actually dreamt that I had udders.

One, that is freakin' freaky and gross

Two, I evidently need to get my behind to a gym pronto before my subconscious gets any more warped and aggressive about the size of my behind.

This one's for you, Dumplings

Someone I know was recently discussing chicken with dumplings with me. No, they really were.

And since I'm a big fan of All Things Dumpling (Mental note: Make that my first book's title), this list of 675 recipes of Chicken and Dumplings made me downright giddy. It's autumn, it's time for comfort food, folks. Other options worth sharing include Chicken Curry soup (890 recipes worth) and the classic oldie-but-oh-so-goody, the Impossible Cheeseburger Pie from Bisquick.

This made me all recipe-sharing happy. Stark Raving Mad for recipe sharing. I even talked to someone suggesting that for Christmas we could make each other a book of our favorite recipes. Which I know sounds lame, but it's actually quite sweet if you think about it, isn't it? You could prepare their favorite meals and think of that person while you're doing it, bringing them into your kitchen when they couldn't be there in person....and...oh nevermind.

All's I'm saying is, if you're game for sharing good recipes that you and your kin folks enjoy, drop me a line and I'll do the same on my end. If you're lucky, you'll get Rita's Banana Bread recipe.

And people wonder why I'm good with just coffee for breakfast

Oh sweet baby Jesus. Is there anything Americans won't eat? Seriously?

The Return of Lawyer Beth

I'm thinking of Lawyer Beth this evening. (For those of you unawares, Lawyer Beth is my perfect alterna-self, that is like the total and complete opposite of my actual-self in that she accomplishes and embodies everything I never could. Yes, I realize that's a wee bit messed up, just go with me here.)

We're entering into Autumn, which means I'm feeling all back-to-school-like and trying to think of crafts and projects that will see me through to next July. It's the time of year when I get all nesty and domestic and inspired and that little voice inside my head says "Well sure, Beth, maybe you can turn your life around this winter and not spend the next six months on your couch eating frozen pizzas watching Law and Order Criminal Intent reruns and fantasizing about being, ahem, interrogated by Vincent D'Onofrio in an interview room."

This is where Lawyer Beth usually comes into play. When I start thinking of what I can do this winter, I play the proverbial game of "What Would Lawyer Beth Do?" This is not a game one can win. Because she's imaginary, Lawyer Beth is perfect and unattainable. I know this (sort of).

Still, there's a part of me determined to throw a dinner party at some point this winter where I will ladel homemade soup into bowls made out of hand carved individual-sized pumpkins for my guests. A girl can dream, right?

Word of Advice

If you ever want to try one of those "peel off" facial masks where it dries and you then peel it off of your face in disturbing skin-like strips, it's important to pay attention to the instructions - which I'm willing to bet will almost ALWAYS warn you not to get the mask in your hair.

Or else you're going to find yourself picking the textural equivilant of rubber cement our of your hairline for the next 3 hours or so. And soft, refreshed skin or not, that's not glamorous at ALL.

Just sayin'.

Liberry Goodness

What better way for a thirty-something single woman to spend her time on a Saturday evening than to be online reading blogs and becoming enamored with this new site, LibraryThing. I haven't done much research on it yet, but it looks quite intriguing.

Bringing people together based on their personal libraries? Creating a virtual place to show off how literate and smarty-pants you are? Sign. Me. Up.

Plus (again, to show off how cool and cutting edge my single woman life really), I made pickled asparagus, pickled green beans, batch two of peach jam and chili today. Bring on the nuclear winter, folks, I've got enough canned goods to get me through the next few months. Or at least to garnish enough bread and martinis to get through another Seattle winter.

I"m just a blogger, standing in front of a laptop....

It might just have been the whole “waking up to a bed of poop” thing that put me in a bad mood yesterday, but I finally got around to watching “Notting Hill,” and came very close to barfing right there on my floor from it. I chose not to, as I had already cleaned up one body-related mess too many that day.

Back to Notting Hill. See, I wanted to like this movie, I really did. It was written by the same bloke that wrote “Love, Actually,” (which also should have been a better movie than it was), and it featured a positively charming cast, a truly adorable setting and lorry-loads of posh British quirkiness. And yet....the saccharine dialogue, Julia Roberts' teeth, the race-to-get-the-girl ending…it was just too bloody much, really. I laughed out loud at the “I’m just a girl standing in front of a boy….” speech and I’m pretty sure that wasn’t what the writer had in mind when he wrote that part.

Have I become irreversibly bitter and spiteful, or is something going around the air this Autumn season?

You know it’s going to be a bad day when…

….you wake up in the early, early morning to the sound of your obese cat scratching around the comforter down near your feet. And she just keeps scratching. And you start mumbling in that sleepy voice of yours “ENOUGH WITH THE SCRATCHING ALREADY.” And then you eventually fall back asleep. And then when you wake up a few hours later you pull back your comforter to get out of bed and your realize that your obese cat has POOPED ON YOUR BED WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING IN IT. RIGHT THERE. NEXT TO YOUR SLEEPING BODY. SHE POOPED. APPARENTLY OUT OF SPITE OR LAZINESS OR SOMETHING.

And you almost want to cry because, Jesus that is NASTY, but you're more disgusted than sad about it. And then you realize that the obese cat's brain is about the size of walnut and it's far too late to punish her about it, which actually makes the whole situation all that more gross and disturbing.

Yep, you do indeed know it’s a bad day is in the works when that happens.

Beware of Squrrels Holding Cupcakes

In further proof that my hipster street cred has all but diminished entirely, I’ve only recently discovered the joy of cupcakes. Now you may be scratching your heads thinking that the cupcake “trend” has been going on for about a year or so (clearly you’ve all been talking about it while collectively watching Law and Order without me this whole time…), but I never really got into it. I’m not anti-cupcake, mind you, but I wasn’t passionately PRO-cupcake, either. I just didn’t understand what the big dealio was.

It wasn’t until a weekend trip to Ballard took me Cupcake Royale that I got what everyone has been so twitterpated over this whole time. Adorable little carrot cake cupcakes with cream cheese frosting? It was practically love at first sight. Plus, the fact that the store’s mascot was a squirrel holding up a cupcake for Cupcake Harvest Festival meant I was all but powerless to refuse its charms. Try them. You’ll liiiiiike them.