Quote #41

Tomatoes and oregano make it Italian; wine and tarragon make it French. Sour cream makes it Russian; lemon and cinnamon make it Greek. Soy sauce makes it Chinese; garlic makes it good.

Alice May Brock

Come dine with me

As many of the quirkier activities I take part in, this activity/competition was an idea of house mate JTA. It was inspired by a television program and goes roughly as follows. In a group of people one cooks an entrée, a main course and dessert, while doing one's best to entertain the 'guests'.

I admit that though I may score little points in the categories 'atmosphere' and 'entertainment', I still thought it wasn't really a competition. Something that in spite of yesterdays utter dinnerfailure, I still think.

Odd number

Tell me somethingI, or anybody else for that matter don't/doesn't know. In other words; I concurr.

You Are Odd

You're wonderfully weird, and you refuse to conform to make others comfortable. You are a true individual. You are proud of your quirks, and at times you even flaunt them. You don't understand people who are normal and mainstream. There is so much more to the world than what's conventional and popular. You investigate everything that piques your interest. You think it's a tragedy to leave any stone unturned.

The Sporty Car Test

The First Rule of Blogthings Is: You Don't Talk About Blogthings

Pumpkin: carriage and soup-stuff

Fairy godmother though I may want to be; I am limited by the physical laws of the reality I ended up in to be a mere kitchen princess. In the spirit of mimicking house mates I present you with another PVW classic.

Orange soup

• 5 kg firm pumpkin
• 0.5 kg carrots
• 1 red bell pepper
• 0.5 kg onions
• 0.5 kg potatoes
• generous amounts of butter
• a large dash of olive oil
• 1 cube of vegetable stock

Melt butter in a large pot on medium heat. Dice your vegetables, add the stock and olive oil. Broil for half an hour, add water whenver neccessary. Leave to a soft broil for another hour. Mix thoroughly. Add salf, pepper, powdered ginger and cumin to taste.

Goes well with roasted chili croutons

The New House

Of all my worries one has disappeared over the weekend. I finally visited my future home, claimed a room and investigated the jungle that will be my garden very very soon. I can perfectly picture how happy my chickens are going to be. And even more how happy I will be eating fresh eggs.

Need I say I am thrilled? This will be the best possible place to live, in possibly the only more fantastic neighbourhood than the one I now populate. I propose an extravagant party november 30th. Be there or never ever dare show up again.

Happy Birthday - episode 26

A great advantage of blogging is that I may be certain to be the first to wish myself a happy birthday. In case you have not received the gazillion e-mails that I wrote upon the subject: you are eihter e-mailless or not invited.

Lapsus

It is better not to confuse a room mate with a mating room.

The Silent Treatment

Upon being rather rudely confronted with the decibels I myself produce when commenting on the news or venting an opinion I have snapped 'Good, I'll just say nothing then' at the oldest of my housemates. For myself I have added the extra clause 'for at least one full day'. So until tomorrow 10:34 am, though sounds may pass my vocal chords it shall not be known that I uttered actual words in the coming 24 hours.

Wish me luck!

Not keeping promises

It is something I am very good at, like when I promise myself to be happy or at least happier.

A few days ago I was most earnestly resolved to put a halt to my compulsive beauty and care product purchasing. A vow that held until yesterday. Of course I was thrilled with the product of which you see an image on the right. Of course I have now the most desirable lips I ever had. Of course I am unable to stop touching and rubbing and massaging them. Of course I annoy(ed) my fellow shoppers undurable lengths of time with 'how sweet the sensation' and 'how did I live without'.

But not 24h later I wonder why my lips need to be this soft and well taken care off? There's never anybody around to kiss them anyway.

With a side of clotted cream, please.

Since I find it time for a new psychology test about once every two weeks and I summoned my younger and baking-eager sister to whip up as many batches of scones as she can manage for my coming birthday party; I thought the test below appropriate. And I may be persuaded to almost entirely believe this new-found digitally concocted insight.

You Are a Raspberry Scone

The early part of your day is filled with energy and excitement. You always have a lot to do in the morning, so you get cracking as quickly as you can. You don't usually have the time to sit around for a couple hours with coffee and the paper. That comes later in the day, if at all. You're the type most likely to pick up a scone at a bakery for breakfast. You're too busy to breakfast for yourself.

What Kind of Scone Are You?

Work is Hard. Time for Blogthings!

The Lazy Days

Whereas for most of the time in the now gone summer months I had excuses (pretty poor excues but still) and reasons as to why I did not get any work done or not even any books read; now the time has come to face the well-know fact whith which one is however not eagerly confronted that I spend most of my time indeed reading nothing of value and playing computergames. Making me thus so very tired of watching screens that I go to bed wishing I had done 'something'. On how to define that something I may have to devote another blogpost.

Resolutions-part IX

• read more
• write more
• not buy beauty products
• throw one hell of a birthday party
• take life lightly
• take work seriously
• love passionately
• hate moderately
• invite (girl)friends over for tea and pedicures
  

What I can't say face to face.

No amount of sorry may do.

I'm not even really certain any sort of sorry is in order. But for the umpthyfirst time I feel like having majorly screwed up. And I know that you know that I really didn't mean to hurt you, but ever complaining about the complete lack of respect for my disposition by others, it is all the worse for me to not show any consideration for your feelings.

If there is any apology I may offer,... ask.

Crush- part 7 billion

It seems to me a truth, universally acknowledged that all handsome men most be gay or long-term commited and very often both. Still can't help liking this guy though.

Birthday Wishlist

Since I prefer to avoid people asking me directly what I would or would not like for a birthday present, I annually publish a wishlist a month in advance. So here it goes:

• tea
• colour contacts
• books
• helping hands at moving out
• dieting tips
• a firm sturdy shoulder to cry on
• a new laptop
  

Hiding under my pillow

The loathable evil-doer struck again. As none can fail to know that I am bound by honor, a challenge and some consideration for my teeth to abstain from any such beverages as might be called soda pops, the rapscallioning malefactor has dealt a hard blow indeed by stuffing my beloved berth's bedlinen with a sample can of the brew of which you see a picture on the left.

Damned be the execrable miscreant.

What writing utensils may reveal...

It may well be true. In your face mister I-like-you-but-I'm-not-quite-ready-for-a-relationship-yet.

You Are a Green Pen

You are not just a little quirky, you're downright weird. And you're proud of being different! You go against the grain just so you won't fit in. You couldn't imagine being like everyone else. You are creative and a big wacky. You've got a big vision, and it's changing every week. You are surprisingly charming and popular. You may not be normal in any way, but that's part of your appeal.

What Color Pen Are You?

Quote #40

I used to think that the brain was the most wonderful organ in my body. Then I realized who was telling me this.

Emo Phillips

The Crash

Just so you know: I depend solely on the internet connection of others as my very own portable computing device decided to walk out on me.

Wedding Night

As I write, mere hours before you read this I help out preparing the stage wedding of a friend's friends. Two people who are dear to each other and to me will be (fake-) wed.

I always thought I hated the fuss. Having recently seen one of my oldest college friends get married to a very handsome tall dark 'stranger' had -I thought- put me off quite a bit. I loved seeing him and her so happy and brave to simply say we'll face the world together from now on, but throughout the ceremony I felt that it would be impossible for me to vow love and fidelity eternally ( a leftover from having scarred my heart once too often). Combined with a great lack of interest for cake dresses, family festivities and fuss about my person, I concluded that I had better not marry.

However, even knowing that nothing of what will take place today is meant in earnest, I simply adore being involved. I have been wondering a full two weeks about what to wear. I will beam with joy and pride when I am complemented on the choice of corsage and bouquet. I think constantly of event-appropriate music. Had I time and an oven to spare I would without a doubt have volunteered to bake a wedding cake. Already I'm jealous thinking how they will look at each other and the children, with pride, love, warmth overflowing their hearts.

Now that I am well beyond the point of sentimentality I might as well mention that either one of my sort-of-single sisters must marry or the one man that may be mine (if there is such a man) will not escape nuptial frenzy. The official paperwork I can and could do without, but I'll have my damned party.