I should have stayed on the couch this morning.
Today licks, and it’s not even 9:30.
Operation: Rummy Gummies was a success.
We opened the containers after 5 hours to check on them, and a few brave volunteers tried out the gooey contents within. The cherries in white rum were deemed “really tasty”, but the other two batches were eye-wateringly strong so we added the rest of the gummies to the sticky liquid and let them soak for a few more hours. Just after 4pm, we opened the lot of them (and made the entire floor smell like a distillery – oops). I gathered some supplies for the unveiling, and we dove in:
presentation is everything
oh dear god
The gummies had soaked up most of the alcohol, but didn’t dissolve – they turned into a slippery, seething mass that looked almost alive:
i swear i saw them moving
Once they had been plated, Adam was true to his word:
down the british hatch
The gummies had been soaking in rum for almost 8 hours, and they were STRONG. They were also deceptive – you could eat some (they tasted like cough syrup) and not really feel anything except your tongue going numb, but once your body absorbed the goo you were in for a bit of a shock. I ate four pieces or so, and felt mostly fine – I still had work to do, and I managed to answer some questions without sounding like a complete fool – but an hour or so later, my world was spinning. I stumbled off my bus, unsure of why I felt so out of it (apparently the potent combination of booze and sugar also made me stupid) but going with the floaty feelings for lack of anything better to do. Then .. I passed out.
It was half “really long week and I’m tired” nap and half “WOOOOOO BOOZE”, but I had myself a nice little sleep on Friday evening before tucking into several hours of Diablo 3 and corn nuts.
So, the overall verdict:
insidious!
sorry about your desk, tyson
Next up: why Heather, Renee and I were detained by The Man (hint: RACIAL PROFILING)!
If I’m going to do anything at all, I’m going to do it with style.
Yesterday one of our (many – I think they’re breeding) co-ops posted an article in chat about Rummy Bears: gummy bears soaked in alcohol. This sounded like the best idea I’ve ever heard in forever, so instead of being satisfied with “ooh we should do this someday” I MADE IT HAPPEN:
sorry about your desk, cory
I bring candy in to bribe my coworkers into liking me (and to look the other way when it comes to my flagrant furniture hoarding), so I have a stockpile in the cupboard for emergencies. I knew one of those emergency candy buckets was full of gummy candy and I have a lot of alcohol at home that simply collects dust on account of my wanton teetotaling, so with the help of my new Brit, we quite literally put two and two together. There are three buckets of gummies fermenting on the windowsill: cherry gummies in Añejo Blanco, random berries in Añejo 3 Años, and gummy worms in Añejo 7 Años. They’ll soak until 5pm or so, and then we will crack them open and feast on the goo inside.
If I’m going to fall off my self-imposed wagon (twice in one month – I clearly need an intervention for my out-of-control drinking), I’m going to do it in the most ridiculous manner I can find. This fits the bill pretty well, I think. Stay tuned for the sloppy aftermath! If this works well (and really, this is just an experiment – we’re doing SCIENCE), I’ve got an AWESOME IDEA for tequila and strawberry cream gummies.
Can’t wait until 5!
I’d been playing a game with myself for the last few months: see how long I could go without wearing pants. Since I started this job in April, I hadn’t worn pants to the office: 33 straight days of my naked shins, flapping in the wind. It was glorious.
Unfortunately, due to our unseasonably shitty weather, I’ve been cold. Really, really cold. I finally got tired of freezing my ass off, so I decided to cave in to social norms and wear some stupid pants already. Are you happy, society? My thighs aren’t touching! Are you not entertained? Is this not why you are here?
So I’m wearing these fucking pants, and I’m also having the WORST GODDAMN DAY EVER. This can’t possibly be a coincidence: THE PANTS ARE TO BLAME. FUCK YOU, PANTS! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!
I arrived at work this morning to discover that my laptop had crashed during the night. Annoying, but it happens a lot – which is why I’m always really careful to save my work. Unfortunately, the crash was pretty catastrophic and the rarely-helpful Auto Recovery fucked up just to make things extra awesome. End result: I lost about 8 hours of work; my entire Tuesday. I am not happy. And none of this would have happened if I hadn’t worn fucking PANTS today.
Between these goddamn pants, my missing work and the bus boner I was assaulted with yesterday, I think I deserve an orphaned kitten from Turkey.
A passing Twitter conversation with Sara_InTheCity has unearthed a shocking twist: my mother have have LIED to me while I was growing up. We compared notes, and it has come to light that both of our Asian-flavoured mothers shamelessly used fairy tales to bend our innocence and naiveté to their cruel whims. I am outraged. I am heartbroken. I am .. experiencing deja vu.
Yeah, I already blogged about this exact topic in March of 2010.
No wonder I haven’t been writing much lately – I’m OUT OF STORIES TO TELL. DAMNIT!
I need to go have some ridiculous adventures. NOW. Before it’s too late.
they never end
I kind of wish I’d become one of those insufferable “too busy living life to blog about it” folk, but the truth is I just haven’t felt much like writing. Stuff has been going on – Ed’s birthday dinner was a blast, I visited the Lego Store on Saturday and managed to not buy everything in sight (but I did come away with a few new pieces), and on Sunday I orchestrated a surprise pickup of Renee at the airport as she returned from her month in Botswana, featuring the triumphant return of the Terrifying Bieber Masks. Things have been fun if tiring – the weekend wiped me out to such a degree that I dozed through most of Monday and crashed for an epic nap the instant I got home from work. Today I am more awake and I have a bagel. Things are looking up!
.. not that it’s really helping my drive to write. I’d like to blame it all on the weather, as it’s unseasonably cold and grey out there. Truthfully, I know I have no real reason to be anything less than sparkling and dripping with joy: things are great. My job is beyond awesome, things with Ed are the way I like it (mostly naked with a lot of D3 co-op), and the Mini is fantastically fun. I’ve not yet started planning our trip to London later this year, so I’ve got hours upon hours of anal retentive research to do (not to mention all the lovely packing). Things are super, and yet this cloud persists. I wish my birthday didn’t depress the hell out of me – it never used to be like this; I used to be really excited about my birthday – but these days, all I can think about is how I’m old and I still don’t have a pug and my feet should never be this cold in June.
Some sun would be nice.
And a pug. I saw a pug puppy on Sunday at Deacon’s Corner, and my heart broke into a million little pieces. She was a fawn-coloured puppy around 10 weeks old and so cute and snuffly and everything I wanted in a pug and I wanted to keep her. Alas, I had a car full of Bieber masks and no desire for a criminal record so I had to walk away .. but ever since then, my pug lust has been rekindled with a vengeance. All I want is a dog before I’m too old to enjoy it. What’s so difficult about that?
Man, now I’m hungry AND sad. Boo on you, Tuesday.
Wake me up when I remember how to be interesting.
ed’s butt eventually killed off mankind :(
I finally get it – I see why people drink.
I’m not talking about people who drink to get drunk, but those who drink beer and wine and liquor because they enjoy it. In all the time I’ve been alive, I’ve never understood it – alcohol is disgusting. It tastes horrible. It makes my insides burn with diseases. And people do this for FUN?
Last night, I drank a glass of wine.
I didn’t break out into hives.
I didn’t make faces at the aftertaste.
I didn’t turn bright-ass red and start hyperventilating; nor did I get instantly drunk and fall asleep.
THIS IS HUGE.
I had my first taste of beer at age 7 (a Coors Light from my 32yo brother), and it was disgusting. In grade 9, I filled a container with gin and apple juice and went to school because I was a Bad Ass, and even though I enjoyed being sneaky and a Problem Child for a day, I didn’t enjoy the actual drinking part at all. When I was 17, I hung out with a Bad Crowd and my weekends were filled with Silent Sam and Malibu – again, I drank because it’s what we did; I certainly didn’t like it all that much. I have never, ever liked alcohol. Even drinks that I could choke down – fruity girl drinks that were more sugar than alcohol – were barely tolerable; I’d drink them because I’d forgotten how fucking horrible booze made me feel every single time. Do you know how much it sucks to drink something that tastes terrible and instantly gives you a bladder infection? It’s about as much fun as it sounds, so eventually I just stopped drinking altogether. If anything is going to cause burning sensations where there ought not be any burning at all, I want filthy carnal sexy times to be the reason – not because I had a sip of something gross.
Then there was last night. We went out for Ethiopian food for Ed’s birthday dinner, and the owner of the restaurant served us his top secret honey wine that he brews for himself. I was curious about this glass of Mountain Dew-coloured thick stuff that smelled like chocolate, so I took a sniff then a little sip. Then .. nothing. No yucky taste. No burning urethra. No hives or waves of scorching heat coming from my cheeks; no zero to drunk in 60ml. I was .. fine. And it was fucking DELICIOUS.
Is THIS what people taste and feel when they drink a good wine or beer? If it is, then sign me up – I could drink bottles of that stuff. I ordered myself a glass, and polished it off with my (amazing) dinner. I was ever-so-slightly buzzed, and I felt none of my usual symptoms after having something with booze in it. This is fucking INCREDIBLE – to illustrate just how bad my reaction to alcohol is, you know those booze-filled chocolates all over the place during the holidays? Yeah, I can’t eat those. I mean, I COULD, but the mini bladder infection just isn’t worth it.
Who wants to go drinking? I can only go to one place and have this one kind of booze that can’t be bought in a store, but I can totally drink it without dying. LET’S GET DRUNK LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE DO!
Um, and I suppose I’ve fallen off the 2012: Year of the Straight Edge wagon. I will hop back on – Mike is a bad, bad man – but I will gladly hop off at any time to go have more of that honey wine because GOOD GOD Y’ALL. So good.
all that remained.
Today is Ed’s birthday. Happy birthday, Ed!
I did not have time to craft him up a birthday card in my usual nonsensical style, so I improvised: I gave him a filthy card and, borrowing heavily from James Joyce’s love letters to Nora, crammed it full of birthday greetings and early 20th century lyrical smut. I may not share Joyce’s passion for his lover’s farts – quite the opposite, really – but I wholeheartedly approve of the lusty nature of his correspondence and the graphic yet quaint descriptions of titty fucking and hand jobs.
I love you Ed, and not in the least because you let me do unspeakable things to you in the name of science!
yay ed!
According to the Google, Mercury is not currently in retrograde. This leads me to believe that the End of Times has begun, because things are getting all doomy up in here – for the past week, the news has been full of FUCKED UP SHIT that is only getting worse:
.. and just now, I’ve been offered cash compensation – twice – due to the problems I am experiencing with the vaginal mesh I didn’t even know I had. Okay, maybe my vaginal mesh issues aren’t on the same scale as someone eating another person’s face, but STILL. Weird things are happening all over the place and I for one am preparing for the worst: I bought three bottles of Diet Coke and a can of Pringles on my way to work this morning. I’m ready for anything.
I can’t help but feel that all this bizarre, X-Files-style news portends something scary and ominous; perhaps worthy of the terrifying music from the Prometheus trailer (seriously I think the world is ending every time it comes on TV). Are things aligning in a bad way? Were the Mayans onto something? What does Nostradamus have to say about all this? In what way is it the fault of the Liberal media? SO MANY QUESTIONS. So many fucked up crimes. Don’t kill each other, okay? And don’t send body parts via Canada Post. No one wants to deal with the cleanup when they inevitably fail to deliver the package on time and mail you a “come get it yourself” notice instead.
I picked a spectacular day to not be in the office, as two parcels came for me and I was not there to receive them. One is going to be a royal pain in the ass to get – they tried to deliver it to Sparta on Tuesday, but I was at work. They came to the office today, but I was at home. Now the internet tells me it’s “available for pickup” .. in the middle of Richmond somewhere, with a massive brokerage fee owing on it. I have a black belt in package-fu, but I really dropped the ball this time around – my inability to predict the courier’s movements has Caused an Issue, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to find my way to Richmond to deal with it. Unfortunately, I can’t call customer service to arrange a (third) alternate until tomorrow, which means I *might* get the package on Friday. Maybe. If I’m really, really lucky. If I’m not .. well, it might be shipped back to friggin’ India and who knows when I’ll see it. It’s not like I placed the order in April or anything, either.
The other package wasn’t dropped off for some reason, but they left a pick-up slip and took it to a post office. Unfortunately, it’s not at the post office across the street from work, but one several blocks away. I’ll have to stop there on my way to work tomorrow to rescue it – it’s not that big a deal, but I’m a bit grumpy at the moment so everything is just a great big inconvenient marble in my ass. If things could just stop getting on my nerves, that would be just greeeeeat.
I’m fairly certain I’m in the middle of my standard Upcoming Birthday Depression, because I’m really fed up with a lot of things I normally let slide. It’s turning me into kind of a jerk, because instead of trying to appreciate the quirks and foibles that make us all different, I’m calling people out for being stupid .. in my mind. In reality, I’m just removing the stupids from my sight and going on an unfollowing spree on Instagram. I love Instagram and think it’s awesome, but people have wildly different opinions on what makes a good photo to share with others. Every single thing you eat? Not interesting. Text messages? Incredibly not interesting. Pictures of people you’re stalking? Creepy as fuck. I’m not saying my own images are Louvre worthy, but at least I try for humour and/or variety. It’s not just pictures, though .. Twitter and Facebook are marbling up my ass too. I’m tired of astounding egos, idiotic statements, *ville invites, demands that we celebrate every moment of your life, modern day equivalents to chain letters .. okay, everything. I’m tired of it all. I kind of want to just lay under my bed and sleep until everyone stops sucking so much.
But then I’d NEVER get my packages, and I wouldn’t know what you had to eat today.
delicious juice dot com 