Is It Just Me?

The internet is a scary and dark place sometimes, but it does have its uses. In fact, on occasion, it can actually be a comfort. Before the advent of…

Is It Just Me?

The “Real” Jesus

I left the following comment on Steve’s blog in response to one of his recent posts. As I was reading it back to myself, I thought it might be fun to…

The “Real” Jesus

Candy Corn Hard Cider – Fall Drink

Summer may be on its way out, but that means that spooky season festivities are in full swing, and now is the time to grab your broom, wake up the …

Candy Corn Hard Cider – Fall Drink

What’s your all-time favorite album?

An album that I would consider to be ny all-time favorite most likely goes to Crybaby, K-12, and After School by Melanie Martinez.

I know that in a previous post of favorite songs and why most, if not all, of the songs that were listed were hers, and every album she releases feels like she broke into my house, stole my notebooks filled to the brim with cringy poems and song lyrics from awful bands that sound like nails on a chalkboard, thought,

“Hmmm…I can make an album out of this girls fake pain and suffering,” then skipped onto The Voice with her quirky, creepy, gorgeous self. I can see her audition as if I were there. Her hair styled to look like a giant ribbon, that only added to her authenticity was the Cruella Deville dye-job; half black, half platinum, when she began to sing Hit the Road Jack, in that sexy gravelly style that’s normally only reserved for African Americans; you know, the literal inventors of Jazz and Blues music, (No it wasn’t Elvis, Elvis was a janitor that just so happened to sound like the black guy they “couldn’t put on television” because it could, “hurt their ratings.” Believe me, if you saw me right now, just typing that, I’m literally roling my eyes, fuck guys this is what black people are talking about when they say things like:

“White people whitewash history,” or “We want the real history of this country taught to our childrem,” or “CRT is an important concept in law that’s only studied in college but children do have questions about race and we as parents should allow educators the freedom to teach the subject as they see fit.” Because it happens, how many people from Gen Z knew that about Elvis? I’d actually wager they don’t even know who he is honestly. Like throw the whole idea in the trash because I was definitely operating under the assumption that they would know who that is and I’m almost shocked at how dumb that is.

Anyways, Amy Winehouse was able to achieve it and boy did Melanie’s voice scratch that itch for me. I didn’t hear about her until several years later, in 2012 and It was the night that the “world was going to end,” and I had grown tired of playing Skrillex on repeat, and was stoned enough to venture out of my comfort zone and seek out some melancholic and new music to listen to, and her single, Dollhouse had just been released.

At that moment I took the plunge into her music, her being, her light, her message. Everything. 

A Woman And A Racoon Walk Into A Bar. . .

Yesterday the Fargo Forum reported that bar patrons in Maddock, ND, who were in the Maddock Bar the night of September 6 needed to be aware that they…

A Woman And A Racoon Walk Into A Bar. . .

What IS ‘Intelligence’?

This morning as I was doing my usual scouring of the news in multiple sources, I came across a story titled, “The Search for Intelligent Life Is …

What IS ‘Intelligence’?

No Wonder Some People Have Coulrophobia

Never heard of coulrophobia? Neither did I until five minutes ago. No, it’s not a fear of Dairy Queen. Coulrophobia is a fear of clowns, and can …

No Wonder Some People Have Coulrophobia

25 Things I Wish I Could Say To Various People – Updated

You know, I have several draft posts started of actual, thoughtful content and instead I’m doing a barely coherent rant instead. For privacy, I’m not…

25 Things I Wish I Could Say To Various People – Updated

Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail.

“No one who cooks, cooks alone. Even at her most solitary, a cook in the kitchen is surrounded by generations of cooks past, the advice and menus of cooks present, the wisdom of cookbook writers.”

Laurie Colwin

I have far too much anxiety to ever have a story even remotely close to a cooking error (a thing I love doing and consider to be a passing interest) large enough to be described as “epic.”

As far back as my memory will allow, the last major failure I remember having is trying to bake chocolate chip cookies from scratch for the cooking portion of my Life Skills class.

We often learned a step-by-step from our teacher, would take the recipe home to cook it ourselves and fill out some form on our experiences, and then we would come into class the next day and cook it with our assigned groups, and that would serve as the final test for each recipe.

The only time I have ever failed at producing something in the kitchen was when I worked on those cookies. I have NEVER been a baker and this only proved my point and solidified it in my mind. I have not attempted to bake a fuckin’ cake, muffin, cookie, pastry or pie and I can make a pie crust from scratch, up until about 2 years ago when my husband and I moved into our apartment.

But those cookies, the failure obviously has stuck with me in a significant way, and I just didn’t even try until over lockdown I couldn’t buy a cake for my daughter’s birthday and was forced to face my fear of baked goods.

I found myself face to face with the oven, probably looking like a crazy homeless just wandered in from the street and mistook the oven for a person, because, yes, I was talking to it. Well I was pleading with it really, I said something like,

“Okay look oven, I know you and I usually do NOT do baked goods, and believe me I want to do this, like I want a hole in my head; not at all. However my current situation requires that I make this cake as if Martha-fucking-Stuart herself came here and personally baked it, handed me a joint, and crashed her way out of my parking lot to go do hood shit with Snoop Dogg. So please please please please please please, PUH-LEESEEE, be good to me, please.”

I get that mumbling to your oven already seems like an action one takes when failure is imminent, but it actually (surprisingly) turned out well for me. It wasn’t burnt, was super moist and I waited for it to cool long enough that frosting and decorating the cake was the easiest part.

I will add that the process was not anxiety-free, just because I did take it out early because I started to smell the cake and I was already on high alert because our oven becomes very hot very quickly and often when you follow the directions of how long to cook a pizza, you need to shave 3 minutes off at the very least.

I was standing in the middle of the kitchen playing on my phone and waiting for the timer to go off, when the smell hit my nostrils. Fear washed over me and I immediately dashed to the oven to grab a cloth, pulled it open, and was relieved to find that the entire cake still appeared yellow and only the corners looked a little on the brown side of golden brown, and not by very much, so I did the toothpick test on the densest part of the cake and pulled that bitch out.

It had been about 10 minutes before the timer was even set to ring. I gave the oven a pat as I turned all of the knobs to their “OFF” positions, and set it out to cool. Relief and joy that the baking curse had finally been lifted. Liberated at last.