My Kind Of Party

Just a warning – I’m going to discuss my dogs’ rather unusual diet in this post. Pinky swear you won’t remove me from your Google Reader Feedly? Thanks.

So. My dog’s Rather Unusual Diet is of the raw variety. As in, put down a towel and throw a raw chicken leg quarter in their direction and let them go at it, bones and all.

Actually, only Ernie eats on a towel. Dex refuses to eat this patently uncivilized diet in my decidedly civilized kitchen, so he eats outside in the yard. His choice, not mine. I am not complaining.

Sometimes it’s chicken, sometimes it’s venison. Sometimes it’s meaty meat, and sometimes it’s liver (gross) or kidneys (even grosser). This weekend, although he doesn’t know it yet, Dexter is getting a whole sheep’s head all to himself.

But I digress.

A byproduct of my dog’s diet is that I am constantly trolling for affordable meat. Craigslist has been wonderful –  hunters looking to offload freezer burned venison haunches are my favorite. I do feel a little creepy contacting sellers about rabbits or goats. If you don’t know, there are two camps of rabbit and/or goat breeders and sellers; those who raise their animals for meat, and those who raise their animals for pets. If you accidentally send an email to a pet rabbit breeder inquiring about purchasing their “culls,” be prepared for a nasty reply.

When I can’t get anything else, I stock my freezer with 40 lb. cases of chicken leg quarters that I buy from a local restaurant supply outlet. These chicken legs – which I feed in between goat or duck or sheep head scores – come minimally processed and don’t contain any of the yummy/icky added flavorings you’ll find in most grocery store chicken.

Oh my gosh, I’m talking way too much about raw meat. BUT I CAN’T STOP NOW.

Sometimes I can’t get to the restaurant supply warehouse. Mainly because I am lazy, but also because they close at 6pm during the week and sometimes traffic works against me. So I find myself at the local Food Lion store where they sell 10 lb. bags of low-sodium chicken legs. They usually have boxes of Hot Tamales for $1, so most of the time my cart contains nothing but 40+ lbs. of raw chicken and a few boxes of chewy cinnamon candy.

I am convinced that the cashiers whisper as they see me coming.

Here comes that crazy chicken lady. All she ever buys are chicken and Hot Tamales, Hot Tamales and chicken. What the fuck kind of diet is she on?

Once I tried mentioning (with an airy, we’re-all-friends-here chuckle) that of course all this chicken wasn’t for my own consumption! It was for my dogs! But I’m pretty sure that made me seem even less like a woman who has her shit together.

But one time, about a year and a half ago, I realized that I needed a few additional items. I had recently started entertaining an overnight guest of the male variety, and needed to stock up on…party favors. And then I remembered that I needed to grab some batteries for my Wii remotes (what? We were newly dating and playing a lot of Wii bowling).

It was only as I was unloaded my cart onto the checkout belt that I fully realized the picture I was painting for the unlucky cashier.

40 pounds of raw chicken
4 boxes of Hot Tamales
Box of Ultra Sensitive Spermicide Lubed Trojan Condoms (18 count)
AA batteries (24 count)

Damn, girl. What kind of party are you throwing?


She’s baaack!

Guess who I saw this morning in the bathroom – Curly Sue!

Curly Sue, aka my long eyebrow hair

This picture does not really do her justice, since I had to take it by myself in my abominably-lit bathroom.  You’ll have to trust me when I tell you that she is a thing of beauty.  Me, trying to get a picture of an eyebrow hair in the bathroom mirror without accidentally pulling it out – not so much.

Other things I’d like to talk about today:
Harvest – The harvest has begun! This weekend I picked my first cucumber, along with a handful of green beans and a small-ish yellow squash. I may have jumped the gun a little on the squash, but I’m nothing if not impatient.

If you happened to be peeking out of my neighbor’s upstairs window last Saturday around 9am, you would have seen one ecstatic pajama-clad girl skipping around the garden clutching beans in both hands and pausing periodically to shake aforementioned beans in her dog’s face, singing (in the style of the Go-Gos), “We  got the beans, we got the Beans, we got the BEANS, YEAH! We got the BEANS!”

Um, yeah.  We got some mutha fudrucking beans.

The cucumber became part of a delicious mango salad, but the squash and beans are still on the counter, taunting me. Joke’s on you, veggies, ’cause you’ll both be a stir fry tonight!

– You may have a distinct noticed lack of Dexter up in this piece as of late. He is in South Carolina, getting some one-on-one time with his former mommy, Danielle. It’s pretty obvious from the pictures she’s been sending me pining away for us, right?  Right?

[Cue weeping]

Apparently he’s having such a good time he’s already on his third chew toy. No squeaker in SC is safe.

Dex on vacation

He’ll be back in a couple of weeks.

And yes, that is a hand-crocheted afghan he is wrapped up in.  Hand-crocheted by moi, no less.  I’ll be happy to start taking orders if, by some chance, you don’t have the time or the inclination to waste spend 12+ hours of your life looping yarn around a hook while watching the first four seasons of Lost.

Call me!

F-ing slugs, man.

Thanks, everyone, for your input yesterday and putting up with my melodrama.

I am not typically full of hate.

And really, I was not even full of hate on Saturday, despite all the dog balls.  It was a beautiful day, I had a delicious adult beverage, and I was enjoying all of it with my favorite Ernie.

*dramatic sigh*
Are you done complaining, yet?

Are you done complaining, yet?

Seriously – BORING!

seriously - boring!

Jeez, sorry guys.

Moving right along…the slug problem seems to be under control.  After my salt blitzkrieg last week, I haven’t noticed any fresh slug marks.  Oh, and did I mention I drew a circle of salt around the container?  Well, I did.  Now it’s safe from slugs AND witches.  Who knows what my neighbors think of me, much less the mailman – who, without the benefit of having witnessed my battle with the slugs, can only judge me by the pools of salt/slug remains that dot the front porch and the ring of salt around a chewed-up plant.  I’m putting off sweeping up the salt and dead slugs because I’m holding on to the hope that the desiccated carcasses will serve as a deterrent to other potential interlopers.

(click to see larger)

I will kill a slug.

Also, the contest is still running until Thursday @ midnight – each comment you leave (or blog and/or twitter shout out) gets you an entry!

The End of the World (maybe).

Holy smokes – don’t poop your pants (or adjust your sets).  It’s just me, trying to get back into blogging.

Yeah.  I don’t want to be responsible for that.  I mean, I just thought about blogging last week and look what happened in Iceland.  But if I don’t blog, the terrorists win.  So here I am.

Life is good for a Mutha Fudrucker right now.  I’m working to turn my black thumb green – there is now some tangible evidence that I don’t kill EVERY plant I come into contact with.  These plants were all alive, well, they were as of 7:30 this morning.

1.  Sunflower toddlers.  The dogs step on these (a lot) but they keep springing back.  I grew these bad boys from SEED, bitches.  Yeah, I said it.  I planted these (along with the brugmansias) to give Dex some shade, since I took a chain saw to his favorite weedy shade-shrub.  So keep your fingers crossed that they get more than 3 inches tall, wil ya?

2.  Heliotrope.  Where have you been all of my life?  These little flowers smell like the best cherry vanilla Lip Smacker you’ve ever tasted.  I mean smelled.  Fine, I mean tasted.  Don’t judge me.

3.  Million bells.  The name sold me – lemon chiffon.  How could I turn it down?  Instead of eating a key lime pie square every day, I can just look at these for my citrus fix.

4.  Sweet Potato vines.  I don’t know what it is about these plants, but I love them.  The color is awesome and they grow so fast, so easy.

5.  Phlox.  I have these in hanging baskets and I almost killed them once, when I left them to fend for themselves for 36 hours.  Note to self:  these bad boys need to be watered once a day.  But so worth it, because they flower and flower and flower.

6.  Mint.  We’ve actually got 3 varieties here: chocolate mint, orange mint, and plain ol’ Kentucky mint.  I just sit on the porch, rip a leaf off, and press them to my nostrils.  Not too shabby in a mojito or a julep, either.

7.  Nasturtium seedlings.  I’ve never really heard of this flower before, but I snagged these seeds from my sister.  Apparently they are really easy to grow, and edible.  A match made in heaven – I love both live plants AND eating.

8.  Brugmansia.  I bought two of these tree-thingies last year.  They survived being over wintered in my spare room, and I was even able to get some viable cuttings.  I gave most of them away, but now I’ve got a total of 4 of these bad boys.

The most exciting thing to grow in the backyard this year, though is GRASS.  The dogs are rough on the lawn and it shows.  This year I’ve fenced off about a third of the yard in an attempt to grow some real ground cover.  A trip to the local feed ‘n seed and $17 in clover seed later, I’ve got this:

GRASS!  Honest to goodness GRASS!  It’s not the clover I thought I was buying, but it’s not weeds, either.  Well, not purely weeds.  Words cannot express how happy I am about this development.  Dexter keeps sneaking into the fenced-off zone to nap in its pillowy green-ness.  I can’t really blame him.  I can’t wait to prance around in it bare foot.

So yes.  Exciting times for a Mutha Fudrucker.  I’ve also got my vegetable garden in, after chiseling through my hard, clay, soil and amending it with bags and bags of Miracle Grow and mushroom compost.  I’m having visions of skipping through the plants and plucking cherry tomatoes from my monstrous tomato trees, then passing out with a orange mint mojito in my hand and tomato juice running down my chin.

P.S. – Happy Earth Day!  Check out this blog for some tips on being a greener pet owner.

Delicious Fridays

Fridays are delicious, aren’t they?  Last night Kristin made a kick-ass dinner that makes abstaining from meat on Fridays a walk in the park (although we ate it Thursday night, but work with me here).  Take THAT, Lent!

almond crusted tilapia


1/4 c. whole natural almonds
2 tbsp. dry breadcrumbs
1 tsp. salt-free garlic and herb seasoning blend (such as Mrs. Dash)
1/8 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
1 tbsp. canola oil
1 tbsp. Dijon mustard
2 (6-ounce) tilapia fillets

1.  Place first 4 ingredients in a blender or food processor; process 45 seconds or until finely ground.  Transfer crumb mixture to a shallow dish.

2.  Heat oil in a large non-stick skillet over medium heat.  Brush mustard over both sides of fillets; dredge in crumb mixture.  Add fish to pan; cook 3 minutes on each side or until fish flakes easily when test with a fork or until desired degree of doneness.

Serve with: roasted asparagus with horseradish butter*.

Voila! I can’t attest as to whether the prep-time is accurate because I spent it eating spinach dip and drinking Skinny Bitches:

Skinny Bitches

2 liters Sprite Zero
1 liter club soda
Crystal Light powder – whatever flavor you like (I like Raspberry Ice)

Pour the Sprite in a pitcher; add vodka (probably about a cup).  Stir in the Crystal Light powder (I usually use 2 of the individual packets per pitcher).  Pour mixture into a glass, leaving room to fill the last 1/3 with club soda.  Enjoy (tastes especially delicious if you are drinking this while someone else is cooking dinner and you are lounging on the couch watching Olympic Men’s Figure Skating).

*Pre-head oven to 450°; toss asparagus in olive oil and salt.  Roast for 10 minutes.  Mash together 2 tbsp. butter, 1/2 tbsp. horseradish, and salt and pepper.  Toss roasted asparagus in horseradish butter.

Usually this would CLEAR a room

TMI Thursday

A story in two parts

Living alone has it’s perks.  One being the ability to rip a mean fart with out judgement.

Or so I thought.

Part I
The other day I was laying in bed, enjoying my Saturday morning.  It was a great morning – crisp and cold outside, toasty warm inside; Hemo was curled up on my chest rather than on my head.  I stretched and let out a little fart.  No biggie.  I shook it out from underneath the blankets and dozed off.  I woke up a couple minutes later and felt another fart coming somewhat reluctantly down the pike (I’d had some beers with friends the night before – you know how it is) and decided to give it a little help.  Just a nudge to ease the pressure.

The loudest fart you’ve ever heard ripped out of my butt-hole and trumpeted though the house.  I swear the blankets flapped around me.  Ernie and Dexter, who were two rooms away, started barking like we were being attacked by an army of mailmen and came barreling down the hallway.   Hemo jumped 2 feet in the air and streaked out of the room.  It took me 20 minutes and a handful of treats to get everyone calmed down.

Part II
Last night I was one the phone with my sister, talking about how my dad’s wife sucks and how significant portions of my life are lost browsing Instructables and convincing myself that not only are tesla coil radios awesome but that I could make one myself by following the step-by-step instructions provided.

As I’m talking I (naturally) make my way to the bathroom.  Just as I get comfortable, I tell my sister I’m going to have to call her back.

me: Beth, I’m going to have to call you back.  I just farted in the toilet and the dogs are going ape-shit.
her: What?  I can’t hear you.
me: Just…I’ll have to call you back.  DOGS!  CHILL THE FUCK OUT!

Can you handle this?

Are you sitting down?  ‘Cause I’m about to drop a bomb on you.


I know, right?  Very exciting.  Almost too exciting for a Thursday.  In fact, I’m going to have to ask you to chill the fuck out.  After all, it’s my lunch box.

And actually, “new” is a bit misleading, as that may lead you to believe that I had a lunch box prior to my last night impulse acquisition, which I did not.  I did have one of these, however, to keep my pb&j from getting smushed.


‘Cause smushed pb&j is full of FAIL.

So anyhow, I was in Food Lion last night, stocking up on bring-your-lunch-to-work essentials, and somehow I ended up in the far back corner.  This is the section of the store Food Lion calls the “international section” but I call Sección Latino because although there are some token cans of crispy noodles thrown in there for good measure, it is heavily weighted towards products of the hispanic persuasion, if you know what I mean.  And I think you do.  There I was, marveling at the multitude of Goya nectars, when I saw a small display of kitchen appliances.  Well, appliances may not be the right word, as there was not a power cord to be found.  Mini mortal and pestles, tortilla warmers, and (wait for it…) lunch boxes!

So this baby (in black) came home with me.

lunch box

Unfortunately the lunch box, excuse me the Thermal Food Carrier, does not come with an abuela to pack me a delicious and nutritious shrimp, rice, and soup lunch, so most likely my lunch will continue to consist of a pb&j sandwich, crackers, whatever fruit is in season/on sale, and some cheese.  Honestly, I’m not complaining.  Having to explain to my Abuela why I didn’t finish my soup EVEN THOUGH SHE SPENT ALL NIGHT SIMMERING IT TO PERFECTION SO I WOULD HAVE SOMETHING WARM IN MY BELLY AND NOW HER ANKLES ARE SWOLLEN would be too much pressure.

You can’t really tell from the picture (but I know you are dying to hear about), but one of the removable compartments is divided into 3 mini compartments.  I know, right?  Awesome.  Perfect for keeping my grapes from touching my Special K Crackers* and getting them all wet and mushy.

So yeah.  That’s it for today.  Oh – and MY NEW LUNCHBOX cost <$7.  Suck it, Mr. Bento.
Which, fyi, are the size of postage stamps.  From the commercials (and the box) I expected them to be at least the size of a saltine.  So the recommended 17 cracker serving is not as generous as you might think.