Adventures in Chili: Follow-up

Yesterday I posted about my adventure in chili making and I’m pleased as punch to announce that the vegetarian chili is, in fact, not lethal.
It did need a bit of Frank’s and I did cave with corn muffins (dude, love me some corn muffins), however, it was really good.
With a small bowl, I was full for quite a few hours.

While I couldn’t get a bowling-tournament-drunk-Steve to try it (“what’s in it?” he asked. “stuff”, I answered avoiding eye contact.  “No thanks.”), I’m sure it’s just as good with regular meat in it.  Though I think it’s a combo of the Boca and beans that is filling.

Wow, that’s a lot of information about Chili.

Oh, right, and I should probably mention that I am, in fact, not a vegetarian, however, I do not really care for meat unless I’m in the mood for it.  And meat does not care for me, despite what I want.  So it’s not the moral reasons that I don’t opt for meat dishes, it’s the digestive reasons.  And now you know the rest of the story.

New Story Posted

Small Conversation

Haven’t quite figured out if this is how it should end, though I know I could go on and on with it…

Let me know if you need a password.  If you got the password once, you already have it.

Super Easy/Wicked Good Pasta Sauce and Adventures in Chili

Yeah, yeah, I’m a slacker BUT as promised, here is Cousin Brian’s Pasta Sauce:

YaNeed-

• Hot sausage patties
• Canned pasta sauce
• Cream Cheese

YaDo:

• Crumble and cook the sausage in a skillet
• Mix in pasta sauce
• Mix in Cream Cheese
• Listen to people say “Holy shit, why didn’t I think of that?”

And today, I am attempting Boca Chili, the results to be tested after I clean up from the F5 that tore through my kitchen and basement last night.
So far though, here’s what I’ve done:

• In the crockpot, mix tomato sauce, garbanzo/chick peas, seasoned chili beans, Canalli beans (I don’t know what they are either, but they were next to), Black beans and a box of Boca “meat”. Add spices from your cabinet. I opted for chili & onion & garlic powders, turmeric, cumin, Hot&Spicy Mrs. Dash, Montreal Steak seasoning, dry mustard, black and white peppers and (of course) a pinch of kosher salt.
• Set crockpot accordingly (I tried 3 hours on high)
• Try not to vomit

(End Result at my desk)

Paranoia, Self Destroyer

Okay, so apparently someone from the office has found my page. Don’t really know how.

While I have been careful not to post anything too incriminating, I’m still a bit unsure if some of my off-color commentary is a bit foot-in-mouth.

I do have a bit of regret over the fact that I suppose it is irresponsible to post things that may be immature, not to mention, not funny to whomever it is I am typing about.

Less to say, the paranoia has set in and I think I’ll just post about cooking and the gym and Steve, seeing as he doesn’t know how to read anything that’s not a schematic.

Once this straightens out and the fear of losing my job over calling people out on behaviors (really, does my posting make me any better then anyone else?) subsides, perhaps I’ll revert.

If You Know What’s Good for You

Last night, he comes home from school (around 10-ish) to find me in bed.  “What are you doing in bed already?”
“I have PMS really bad and I’m hungry and nothing is satisfying my cravings and I figured that if I went to bed, I wouldn’t eat.”
I go downstairs to socialize with him and end up eating a can of Beef Ravioli.  This is after I ate 1/2 box of mac&cheese (all the cheese, 1/3 the mac), enough candy bunnies to give me a stomach ache, 7 pieces of sponge candy (which I purchased for Steve), some soup and drank three comically large glasses of water.  And this is AFTER going to the gym… hell lot of good that did.  Personal experience has shown that when I workout, I often don’t want to eat as much in the evening.

The bitch of it all (besides me)… when he came home, I took out my night guard and ended up “popping” my jaw out.  And in.  And out.  And in.  In essence, I chose the ravioli due to its softness and low chew factor.  And due to my PMSing, I am SO HUNGRY ALL THE TIME and it hurts to open my mouth due to last nights dislocations (for lack of better term).

Anyone have a blender I can put some bacon in?  I really want a breakfast sandwich, but there’s no way that’s fitting in my mouth.  I have a hard enough time with those when I’m not recovering from a TMJ outburst.

The other stupid part is that I eat like an idiot during my PMS episodes, which makes me gain weight, which takes two-to-three weeks to burn off, just in time to eat like an idiot again.

A word of advice, surrender the chocolate and no one gets hurt.

Two and Half Bits

Last week, somewhere in Ohio:
me: Can you get the info to scroll on XM?
him, producing a lot productive sounding beeps: There you go.
me: Cool.  Thanks.  What’d you do?
him, cocky: I’m not telling.
me, turning to a techno channel and turning the volume up: Oh, I think you will tell me.
him (no sooner do three “doop-doop-doop”s get out): OKAY OKAY, I’ll talk!  I’ll talk.
me, turning back to the classic rock station: We have ways of making you talk.

Also Yesterday (bit #2)
I joined the gym.
Yes, really.
I’m almost kind of excited.
Almost.
Provided my melted iPod works.

And (bit .5)
I have a craving for Take-Out.
Crab Ragoons and Egg Drop Soup.
Come on hips, haven’t you had enough?

The Comedy of Errors Which Was My Last Sabres Game of the Season

Actually, my day starting going downhill on Monday night, when I passed out (from exhaustion people!) on the sofa around 8:30pm.  In my new glasses.
Yesterday morning, I wake up late, shower and put my glasses back on.  They’re lopsided.  They’re sliding down my nose.  I figure I’ll deal with it and it’s when I take off my glasses, I realize that one of my nosepads have fallen off.  again.
I’m already running late and now I have to find and insert my already-old contacts.
Steve calls in the afternoon, asks what we’re doing for [dinner for] the game and as usual, I tell him I’ll think of something.
The day passes, I realize that I didn’t think of where I wanted to go so I decided we’ll take the subway a few stops down from the arena.
It is then that I hear it is raining.  A lot.
And my contacts are drying out.  But I can’t take them out due to the adjustment of my glasses and not having any more contacts.
I make it to the glasses place, get a new nose pad and pick up my new contacts (that was one plus).
After bumbling around the house, we finally make it to a rainy downtown where we have parked in the middle of everyplace to eat.
I opt to go to a restaurant that is supposed to be an old boarding house.
Oh, and a note to waitresses… yelling at your patrons will likely deter them from coming back (“YOU TOOK A MENU?!!?  NO WONDER YOU DIDN’T GET SERVED, SHE THOUGHT I SEATED YOU AND SHE THOUGHT I SEATED YOU.  YOU CAN’T DO THAT!!!)
Oh, and a note to restaurants, if you don’t take plastic, please note such on the menu.
We FINALLY get our food (Steve’s “hot” wings required him to douse them with extra hot sauce) and the bill, only to find out that the place doesn’t take plastic, doesn’t have an ATM and (of course) they don’t know where one is.
Seeing as it was my error decision to eat there, it was my responsibility to get cash.  I layer up: long sleeve, hoodie, jersey, Steve’s jacket.  I head to the bar next door.  No ATM.  I walk halfway to the arena to the next bar.  No ATM.  I walk to the arena (probably half a mile) (in the rain) (and wind).  ATM.
I walk back to the restaurant.  In the rain.  And wind.  And possibly sleet.  I don’t know.
I am, however, glad that I didn’t wear my glasses and opted for new contacts.
Trudging back up the stairs to Steve, I somehow feel like I resemble a wet rat.  I give him money and we promptly head back to the arena (so this is like a mile and half by now).
Between the second and third, we’re approached by a former acquaintance who continues to talk to us like nothing ever happened.
And then we lose the game.
And Steve comments about my passive driving until we’re out of the lot.

Maybe next year boys.  Maybe next year.

Nemmie Behavior

Despite the affection for “soft rock” station and it’s lies about more variety, my coworker and I get along pretty well.
We share a common confusion about Nemmie and Nemmie Behavior.

For example, Nemmie often wanders into the conference room.   When no one is in there.  Due to the angle of our seats, we can’t see what they’re doing in there.  Not that we should care, but we’re curious as to what warrants 5+ visits to a darkened conference room a day.
Curiosity got the best of us and we started signaling to each other so if one of us was up, we could look and see what he was doing.
Less to say, Nemmie caught onto the fact that we were yelling “CAW-CAW!” when conference room activities commenced.
Oh and rumor has it that Nemmie was blankly staring at the wall.
Seriously.

I can tell when Nemmie’s having a slow day, because they get all predatory on the fax machine.

Yesterday, my co-worker is waiting for some important, confidential, paperwork to come through the fax.  However, she wasn’t able to be there the entire time so I rolled over to her desk and commented, “Don’t worry, I’m sure that if your document comes over, Nemmie will hand deliver it to you.”
And we snicker.

In addition to already noted bizarre behaviors, Nemmie will skew their paperwork in  your inbox and make some kind of noise announcing the arrival of more work.
We have to share a binder and Nemmie needed it (which isn’t a big deal) and returns it with a boisterious THUD.
THE BINDER HAS BEEN RETURNED!

Reverting to the confidential fax, when my co-worker returned empty handed from the fax and Nemmie walked over to check the machine, I coyly mentioned, “You know, in their natural habitat, the salesperson has been know to be quite territotorial.  Prey should exercise caution around the salespersons area, especially the fax machine.”
She laughs and says, “Yeah, they may drag me into the conference room!”
And then it occurs to me.  “That must be where the carrion is hidden!”

Green Day: Holiday (Musical Flashback)

Being, at the time, a fan  of “dookie” by Green Day, makes me, demographically, not able to like anything else by Green Day, whenever I hear “Holiday” I think of the last Winter Olympics.
There was some kid snowboarding for the American Team and she’s (I think it was a she) standing at the top of the slope, fiddling with her iPod.  She slowed down the event because she wanted to listen to Holiday while she was doing her run.

Does anyone else see the problem with this?

Every time I hear this song it just irks me.

Stephanie= Bundle of Emotions

I’ll try not to be too much of a downer, though I’m hoping that writing will quiet the conversations in my head.  If things seem very vague, I apologize.

I feel like I’m dealing with a lot of anger.  Granted, I’m not traditionally religious, but I’m pretty sure that my anger is rooted towards a higher power.
It’s like, if someone does “all the things they’re supposed to do” why do shitty things happen to them?
Is it some kind of weird cosmic/karma thing?  Is what you thought you were supposed to do wrong?
I’m not just talking about how much it sucks that Grandpa is dying, it also sucks that Grandma has to deal with Grandpa’s dying.  And we have to deal with Grandpa’s dying.  But I feel the worst for Grandma as I can literally tell her heart is breaking every time he coughs.
We all know it is coming, but like all the other inevitable deaths that I’ve had to deal with, knowing doesn’t make it any easier.
Half of me just wants it over with, half of me is feeling like someone who keeps a pet alive because it’s what the owner wants, not necessary what is best for the pet.  Sorry for comparing my Grandpa to a pet.
While I know that sitting here pining over the unavoidable isn’t going to change anything, I can’t stop thinking.
I think about my own life… if this is how it goes down, what’s the point of being good?  Not saying I’ve lived my life as a saint (I think we all know I’m not a wonderful person, deep down, though I am admittedly less wretched as if late) but what’s the point of epiphanies and the straight and narrow if you just get screwed in the end?!?

Why do bad things happen to good people?