Squoosh

I go through small lusty obsessions, and I know you do too. They come in phases, with some recurring themes. Like for example, when I was 16, it was all about Brad Pitt. I had a trillion Brad Pitt posters and I even bought the Brad Pitt Biography. Poo-Defensive-Jen and I got together one weekend and had a Brad Pitt Video-Fest, where we watched a whole bunch of Brad Pitt movies in a row. I remember watching Seven, and being scared out of my mind, but it was okay, because Brad Pitt was in it. Brad Pitt is always a recurring theme.

Other lucky winners of my favour have included Orlando Bloom, Christian Bale, and Matthew McConaughey.

Recently, the love of my imaginary life has been Patrick Wilson. He's not as showy-good-looking as Brad Pitt, and I think he's actually balding a little bit. At the very least, I think his hair might be thinning. But he's very goodlooking and sexy upon sexy. To make a long rant short, he's a good actor, and a good singer, and he's really hot, and it would be pretty awesome to be routinely pinned under him for no particular reason.

Now everyone is going to jump to Eric's defense. Go ahead, say it...

"Eric is a wonderful husband, and you are terrible."

"You should be happy being pinned under Eric! And if you're not, I'm sure there are people who would love to take over your job for you."

"Poor Eric, he loves you so much, and he's so good to you. And you are not good to him, look at you with your lusting after imaginary men who are balding."

"My name is David and I want Eric for myself."

To be honest, I was starting to worry that my big big imaginary crush was heading into Pathetic territory. And then yesterday, I went on a Patrick Wilson internet browse.

I Googled "Patrick Wilson" (I'm not going to lie, it wasn't the first time) , and clicked on random sites to see if there were any cute images I'd missed. Is that sad? I don't care, you're probably going to do it after reading this post to see what the big deal is. And there are message boards. So yesterday, I thought I'd read some of these message boards to see what they were all about. There was an "Official Patrick Wilson Love" board which sounded especially intriguing, so I went on to read...

And wow, I'm nowhere near as obsessed as these people. I felt instantly better about my big big crush. Because as much as I have a big big crush, I do not belong to a message board like that!

These people (women mostly, I presume) post passive aggressive comments that are designed to edge out other people in the competition of Who Loves Patrick the Most. Oh yes, they're on a first name basis with him. And they call his (sexy pregnant) wife Dagmara Dominczyk "Dag". Which really just creeps me out. One woman told everyone how she bought her husband an outfit like Patrick Wilson's in Phantom, and made him wear it. They all list how many times they watched Phantom of the Opera, both in the theatres and on their special edition dvd at home. You get extra special bonus points if you went to see him live in The Full Monty or Oklahoma!, and the people who have actually met him? They're super-cocky, and they get the most bragging rights, and everyone is endlessly jealous of them. They also abbreviate his movies and songs and make them into acronyms. So Phantom is 'POTO' and the song All I Ask of You is 'AIAOY'.

Yet nobody actually has the guts to come out and say anything like "I want him to violate me in ways that would make my father want to stick his fingers in his eyes and scramble his own brains." They say things like "He is squooshy. I would love to squoosh him". What does that mean? Obviously a thinly-veiled euphemism for "I want him to violate me in ways that would make my father want to stick his fingers in his eyes and scramble his own brains.", but I imagine because they all want to try to meet him, they're afraid that he'll know what they said. And the person who made the "squoosh" comment was 'playfully' chastised by someone who was probably pretty upset that this girl was thinking sexual thoughts about him, "Oh, you need to wash your mind out with soap! LOL"

But the best part was when one person proclaimed "I want him!!" Then someone jumped all over her and told her to get in line. Then everybody else chimed in to agree, and to announce their own presence in the line. Then they argued over who was at the front of the line.

My own lusty obsession pales in comparison. I might be silly, but I'm not that silly.

You're probably going to wonder how Eric feels about P.Willy. He's cool. He actually really likes Patrick Wilson himself, and agrees that he's a good actor, a good singer, and he's really hot. The only part he doesn't agree with is my enthusiastic assertion that it would be pretty awesome to be routinely pinned under him for no particular reason. Which is fair.

He's a good man, my Eric. And hot as hell himself. Actually, the ladies at work say that the only reason I like Patrick Wilson is because he's an older, blonde, singing variation of Eric. Not too shabby for Carol.

I will end with a spontaneous haiku.

Hey Patrick you're so
Fine, you're so fine you blow my
Mind, hey Patrick. Squoosh.

Good Wife/Bad Wife

We're now almost seven months into our marriage and I'm wondering, how am I scoring on the Good Wife/Bad Wife meter? I really wanted to be a Good Wife. I would feel pretty bad if I ever overheard someone saying to Eric "Shit dude, you've really got a Bad Wife."

You know who's fault this is? It's my friends. My childhood friends are always so quick to defend Eric in everything, and I start to wonder how Bad of a Wife I have to be for my friends to turn on me at the drop of a hat. I'm talking about friends I've known so long, we may as well be cousins.

Like perfect example, my post yesterday about the soup. I wrote what, one sentence about Eric having non-satisfying poo? And my friend Jen, who I've known since before we both had braces, messaged me on MSN almost immediately with "I don't think Eric will appreciate you talking about his poo on your blog."

Completely unprovoked.

Anyway, it turns out that Eric really didn't appreciate me talking about his poo on the blog, but he's okay with it because he loves me and knows I like to talk about poo.

See, it's crap like this that makes people think he's so very good to me and I'm not good to him. I'll bet Eric could strangle a retarded person in front of my friends, and they would go "Aww. Eric's so good with his hands."

Here's what happened from yesterday evening to this morning. I will divide the story into alternating categories.

Why I Think I'm a Good Wife:
When Eric got home, I had timed a nice pasta dinner to come off the stove just right, because I knew he was hungry and was craving pasta. He had just enough time to change out of his work clothes before sitting down to a kiss and a delicious meal. I also brought him a beer, because I know he likes it when I bring him beer. It makes him giddy.

Why I Suspect I May Be a Bad Wife:
I started strongly hinting that he should do the dishes about 3 minutes after we finished eating.

Why I Think I'm a Good Wife:
Eric wanted to watch the Olympics after cleaning the kitchen, and I wanted to read my book. So as a compromise, I decided to read my book on the couch next to Eric while he watched the Olympics so we could be near each other, despite the fact that the tv noise is distracting.

Why I Suspect I May Be a Bad Wife:
I ignored Eric when he tried to talk to me about stuff on the tv. I wasn't watching the tv. Why did he insist on having conversations with me about the US snowboarder when I wasn't watching? Finally, he got the hint and said "I guess I should stop talking to you while you're reading?" And I said without looking up "Yeah, you really should."

Why I Think I'm a Good Wife:
After I finished my book, I went to have a shower and get ready for bed. I've been exhausted lately and my main goal every day is to get to bed early. But then Eric got worked up and started complaining and whining. He complained that I hadn't spent any time with him at all, and he wanted me to watch figure skating with him so we could discuss the individual performances. I felt pretty helpless at this point, because what are you supposed to do when your hetero husband pulls a big-eyed face and guilts you for not watching figure skating with him? My hands were tied. So I had a quick shower, and came out just in time for Plushenko. Together, we watched as Jeff Buttle won the bronze. Eric was happy again, and we kissed and snuggled down into bed together and went to sleep.

Why I Suspect I May Be a Bad Wife:
This morning, Eric sat on the bed after his shower and tenderly stroked my hair.
Husband: "Wake up, sweetie-pie..."
Wife: (wakes up, suddenly not so helpless, starts shouting) "I don't know why the fuck you made me stay up last night to watch figure skating!! I am so GODDAMN TIRED!!!"
Husband: !!!!
Wife: (shouting, near tears) "All I've wanted all week is to get to bed early, I am on my PERIOD! I am BLEEDING between my legs, and because of YOU I've been sleeping late EVERY NIGHT!"
Husband: "I'm sorry, Carol. I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to for you?"
Wife: (sarcastic) "Yeah, you could have put some gas in the car for me yesterday!"

Oh yeah, that was another thing, the gas light had come on, but I hate going to the gas station, plus the car was frozen from the freezing rain. So I had driven the car home to thaw in the parking garage, then suggested that Eric go to put gas in the car last night sometime during Weir's long program. He didn't want to, and I guess I was bitter about that.

I guess the the question is "Does this good stuff compensate for this bad stuff?"

As a visual example, does a bride who looks like this:

make up for the fact that the same bride can look like this:

I will end with a spontaneous haiku.

Do good wives awake
Swearing like ill-groomed diseased
Whores? O, I fear not.

I overheated my soup

Campbell's "Soup at Hand" was 3 for $5 yesterday at Loblaws. We were at Loblaws because Eric complained that he hasn't been making satisfying poo all week, so I suggested we go to Loblaws and buy oranges. My entire family, immediate as well as extended, has believed for decades that if you have trouble pooing, you need only eat an orange, and poo will come racing out. My brother once couldn't poo for over a week, and then he ate an orange and had a huge poo within two hours. We went on a ski trip with my uncle's family last year, and they brought oranges with them, and we were all required to eat a minimum of one orange each night. If you ate two, you were loudly praised.

Anyway, back to the soup. I had never tried it, but my co-worker said they were good. We happened to be checking out the soup aisle, and I saw the 3 for $5 sign. Priced normally at $1.99 each, I had abstained from purchasing them, because almost all Campbell's soups contain msg, and $1.99 for 284mL of msg soup was not a good deal in my books. $1.67 for 284mL of msg soup is more like it.

I stopped liking the cream soups awhile ago, so I got three of the "Chicken with Mini-Pasta" soup. Just now I went to microwave it for the prescribed 1 minute and 15 seconds. We have a really ghetto microwave at work, with a turn dial. I have never had any experiences with a microwave that wasn't digital before starting this job. So I kind of had to estimate, and ended up microwaving it for more like 1 minute and 40 seconds. I took it out and stirred it with a stir-stick like they say you should, to make sure your soup is uniformly hot. But it didn't seem hot enough at all. So I put it back in the microwave, for an extra 15 seconds, like the container suggests you do if your soup doesn't seem hot enough. Except that this turn dial doesn't go to 15 seconds, you have to put it to at least a minute before it does anything. And so I just turned it to 2 minutes, and counted to 15 myself. Then I took the soup out and stirred it again. And it still didn't seem hot enough. So I put it back in the microwave and just let it run the full two minutes. By the time I took it out, I had microwaved my 284mL of soup for almost four minutes. It was starting to get kind of frothy on the top. But honestly, the soup really didn't seem that hot. I might have put it in for longer, but someone else had come into the servery and wanted the microwave (she also had Campbell's "Soup at Hand", in "Creamy Tomato").

So I took my soup back to my desk. And that's when I realized my soup was too hot. Way too hot to put to my lips and drink from the sippy cup mouth slot. I would have burned off my lip-skin. This is why they don't want you to heat it to near-boiling temperatures, because it's meant to be drunk from a sippy cup mouth slot, not aired out in a big wide soup-plate, and blown on in a soup-spoon before being slurped with lots of air to help cool it down. It has now been 25 minutes since I got back from the servery, and I'm still too scared to drink my soup.

Nothing is happening

The complaints are pouring in.

"Carol, there's nothing new on your blog."

"If you're not going to update your blog, don't put it in your msn name it's very misleading!"

"Carol, you're too hot for words, how do you do it?"

All are valid comments. So I promised to post something new...and I have nothing. Nada. Nothing is happening in the Life of Newlyweds. Last week, I was kind of down. With my 26th birthday coming up, I haven't been in the best of moods, and I'm convinced I haven't done enough growing. But who wants to write about that?

Last night, I made a giant lemon cheesecake. It must have weighed 10 pounds. I use the people at work as guinea pigs for my culinary adventures, and they all said it was delicious. This means that they couldn't detect the arsenic, which is what I was hoping. Success!

Also last night, Eric did some laundry, including my new Victoria's Secret robe. Then he hung it up to dry on top of our existing robes behind the bedroom door. Who does this? Our existing robes therefore became damp.

This past weekend was Chinese New Year, and for the first time, I was responsible for giving out cash to people. This is a barbarous practice inflicted on newlyweds, for the Chinese are a cruel people. See also 'foot binding'. Only I never had to do that.

My highlights are growing out.

I'm not sleeping well, and the new hairdryer we bought likes to savagely suck in the ends of my hair and not let go, causing me to have to pitifully pull them out, snapping each strand apart, the acrid smell of burning hair hanging like death in the bathroom air. We need to return that piece of crap.

My left knee hurts.

Eric started spelling it "nasagna", which I find cute. My Wusthof knives are heaven to use, it doesn't matter what I'm cutting, it feels like I'm cutting a peeled hard-boiled egg.

And that is about it. I will end with a spontaneous haiku.

Winter makes me ill
Inwardly my soul vomits
Eric cleans it up

Accidentally making out with Eric's armpit

I hate it when I accidentally make out with Eric's armpit. It happens at night, while we're sleeping, or while Eric is sleeping and I've just gotten into bed. Just last night, I accidentally made out with Eric's armpit at least two, maybe three times.

If you're standing facing our bed, I sleep on the righthand side, and Eric sleeps on the lefthand side. The problems start when Eric sleeps with his left arm over his head. He likes to put his left arm over his head, and very seldom does he put his right arm over his head. More often than not, he has one or both hands guarding his crotch, but they were off duty last night.

Sometimes, when I get into bed, the room is already dark, and I'll snuggle in and give Eric a few goodnight kisses on what I fondly believe is his shoulder or face. Unfortunately for me, when Eric is sleeping with his left arm over his head, I end up lovingly making out with his armpit. In the case of last night, I was already sleeping, and had rolled over and apparently started snuggling in my sleep. Being a besotted bride, I must have given Eric a couple kisses in my sleep...but was awoken by the slightly dewy moist flesh that met my lips. Not to mention, the faint smell that met my nostrils was one that was distinct and unique to...you guessed it. Armpits.

This happened more than once. Like I said, it may have happened up to three times. I must have been in a very cuddly mood last night. But I am VERY upset about it today.

My finger is stinky like feet

So you know how I chopped my finger? And how the doctor at the clinic recommended the finger condoms? I've been wearing the finger condoms a lot, they keep my bandaids from picking up dirt. But since they're made out of latex and don't allow my finger to breathe, I think my finger sweats and the sweat soaks into the bandaids and fester, so that when I take off the finger condom, the bandaids are moist, and my finger smells like feet! Stinky feet!

I thought maybe I was being paranoid, and maybe the bandaids just smelled like rubbery latex with Polysporin. So when Eric got home, I casually took off my finger condom, thrust my finger under his nose and said, "Hey, does this smell funny to you?". And he freaked out! He said my finger was very stinky, and that I had to stop wearing the finger condoms all the time. Then he told me to stop sniffing my finger. But it's difficult, because I know it's not actually feet, but it smells like feet, and I can't stop sniffing it. It's gross, and I'm gross.

I went and had a shower, with the finger condom on. And when I got out, I took it off again, and I think that being in the warm steamy shower made the stink worse! So just to make sure, I casually walked into the computer room where Eric was, thrust my finger under his nose and said "Hey, I just had a shower, smell my finger now". He paused to let the scent waft out, thinking it would smell like soap or shampoo. Then he got very upset. He said it smelled REALLY bad now, and I wasn't to wear the finger condom anymore. Then he told me to stop sniffing my finger again.

It really smells bad.

Owwwwwwwww II

You're not going to believe this, I chopped a big cut into my left middle finger with a cleaver last night. It was painful upon painful. It's on the neighbour of the finger off of which I grated a chunk about a month ago. I also chopped off a piece of the ring finger on the same hand when I was in grade 10 Family Studies. My wedding and engagement rings don't even fit on the hand anymore because the whole thing is kind of swollen.

I was making a seafood lasagna, and making it up as I went along. I had been planning it for over a week and I was very excited. I had peeled and de-veined the shrimp, cleaned and sliced the mushrooms, and was chopping up an onion...I was on the last piece of onion and my hand slipped, just as I gave a mighty and enthusiastic chop with the cleaver. It was necessary to be enthusiastic with the cleaver because it had dulled a bit over the years. I know how to preach the dangers of using a dull knife, and yesterday I feel I gave a fantastic demonstration of that lesson. Anyway, the cleaver sliced clean through the side of my nailbed, and hacked a big gash on the left-diagonal tip of my finger.

I. Freaked. Out.

Then I remembered that Eric's sister Haley was over, and I didn't want to freak her out too much. So I tried to be cheeky and cool about it. Plus, it's embarassing to have your husband's 14 year old sister see you having a panicked crying wail over your finger boo-boo.

So we bandaged it up, blood gushing everywhere. It took several tries, as every time I took away the tissue I was holding onto tightly, the blood would pour out. Haley had to go get a whole other paper towel. But finally, one time I pulled it away, quickly smeared some Polysporin on it, and Eric pressed a bandaid onto it. Then I kept on applying more bandaids until it was all covered and secure.

Before this was all done though, I did get a good look at the cut, and it's big. Like at least 3-4mm deep, and possibly a full 1cm wide. On the tip of my finger, I think that's a lot! I should ask Simon Chan, he would know. But in any case, my finger looks like a muppet's head, the way the gash gaped open. Specifically, it looks like Bert's head.

I got to work today and couldn't handle the pain, so Eric came back to get me and we went to a walk-in clinic. Doctor Engineer (that was his name!) said that he would redress it and maybe put a steri-strip on it, but then he saw my stellar bandaging job and didn't want to move it. He said that my awesome bandaiding skills had created the same effect as stitches, and that I should leave the bandaids on for about a week. He said to buy these finger cots, which are basically finger condoms. They're to keep the bandaids clean. He also recommended no programming because my hand should be elevated. I came back to work anyway. I can type with one hand. I do however, look like I'm giving the finger to everyone who comes in the room, due to my arm being propped up on my armrest with the middle finger loosely extended.

Spinach Dip

I make awesome spinach dip, I really do. I wasn't going to get all puffed up about it a few years ago when I just started tinkering with spinach dip, but now I really have no choice.

It all started back in my first year, when I was friends with a cheerleader named Cookie (does this sound like the beginning of a porn story?). She had a party for her 23rd birthday and made a spinach dip off of which I could not keep my hands (definitely sounds like the beginning of a porn story). After that party, I became obsessed with spinach dip, and made RSVP decisions based on whether anyone was bringing spinach dip.

By the time second year rolled around, I had discovered Costco spinach dip. It came in two large cylindrical containers shrinkwrapped together and tasted mostly okay. Unfortunately, I got sick of it real quick.

In third year, I started looking for a spinach dip recipe of my own. I tried a few...but some were too sour creamy, some were too mayo-y, some were too spinachy. I wouldn't even touch the cream cheese ones. I don't like cream cheese. And then one day, it happened. I had combined and tweaked all the right combinations of spinach dip recipes and had come up with one that was perfect for me. And it was low-fat too!

But like I said, I wasn't about to get puffed up about it. Some people like more sour cream or fat or whatever in their spinach dip. My own humble concoction was simply one that I loved. Often. But when I started making the dip for gatherings, the rave reviews started pouring in, and my head started getting very puffy (this would be a good time to point out the puffiness of my ass again...insert snarky self-deprecating ass comment here).

But luckily for all of you, I'm not a selfish recipe monster so here, as promised, is my spinach dip recipe. Have fun, Hilda!

Ingredients:
1 package chopped frozen spinach, thawed and drained
1 small can of water chestnuts, drained and chopped
1/3 cup chopped green onion
1 cup non-fat sour cream
2/3 cup low-fat mayo
1 tbsp lemon juice
1/2 tsp seasoning salt
2 tsp dried parsley

Instructions:
Mix it all together and serve with cubed up pumpernickel and crusty italian bread. I like using two kinds of bread to make it look prettier, but you can just go with one if you like.

This recipe is very forgiving, and the measurements are mostly guidelines. I've made it so many times now, I've started eye-balling everything, and as long as the sour cream : mayo ratio is mostly right, everything else falls into place. Presentation in a bread bowl is optional. I stopped doing this because A) after you use the bread for the bowl, there isn't much left for dipping, so you almost have to buy two pumpernickel loaves to have enough bread and B) the bread bowl looks disgusting after people have scooped out all the spinach dip. It's just wet and whiteish all along the inside with bits of drying spinach stuck on it, and it looks like garbage. Some people say that after the dip is gone, their guests will rip up the bread bowl and eat it as well. These people perhaps have raccoons for guests.

My Cousin Loy Sucks

If you look on the list of Links on the side of this page, you will find a link to Loy and Cecilia's Blog. Loy is a cousin on my dad's side of the family, and I'm crazy about his kids. But Loy, he sucks.

You will notice that on his list of postings, there is one entitled Chan/Kong/Chiu/Yu Christmas. You will also notice that neither my picture or Eric's appears in the ones posted. You know why? Because Loy had a Chan/Kong/Chiu/Yu Christmas party WITHOUT US.

What is that? WHAT IS THAT??

I can think of only one excuse, and it is this: Eric got a call/msn message from Loy on Thursday December 22nd or Friday December 23rd, asking if we wanted to come over for "A last minute dinner with Elaine and Gary and the kids." Unfortunately, we had tickets to go see Blue Man Group with my brother downtown. If this Chan/Kong/Chiu/Yu Christmas party is the same as "A last minute dinner with Elaine and Gary and the kids", then mollification may be in the cards. But still, "A last minute dinner with Elaine and Gary and the kids" is very different from a big cousins gathering with Elaine and Gary and Jocelyn and Matthew and Carrie and Peter and Jordan and Taylor and Grace and Francis and Christie and Corinne - in addition to Loy and Cecilia and Kendall and Trinity and Duncan. Very different. And there was KFC! Come on!

But if this isn't the case, and a Chan/Kong/Chiu/Yu Christmas party occured excluding us, I plan to hate Loy forever. And I will steal his kids and keep them for myself.

Loy, you suck.

Carols

I like Christmas songs. I especially appreciate how they are named after me. I know the holiday season is upon us when I start humming Carols while washing my hands after using the washroom. But there are some Christmas songs that drive me bonkers. While I delight in my own renditions of songs, and numerous recorded versions of old-time favourites, some recorded songs are very very bad. These are the ones I hate the most:

Andy Williams - Happy Holidays/Holiday Season
This song is played in all malls without exception. I don't know who made the decision to include it in the mixed CD for Christmas, but it's just awful. The worst part about it isn't the slightly nauseating melody, but the non-sensical lyrics.

It's the holiday season,
So hoop-de-doo and dickery dock
And don't forget to hang up your sock
'Cause just exactly at 12 o'clock
He'll be comin' down the chimney down

Seeing as this verse comes fairly late in the song, I can only imagine that they ran out of "holiday" lyrics and decided to make up some words. "Hoop-de-doo and dickery dock"? I'll bet they thought of the "sock" line first, and then couldn't think of anything that rhymed with "sock" other than "cock". So they made up some random words instead. And then, what exactly does it mean when he says "He'll be comin' down the chimney down"? I think they just needed another syllable, so they picked a random one-syllable word. Unfortunately for them, they picked a word that occured just three words previously. In any case, it makes no sense, and it makes me crazy.

Britney Spears - Any song she ever recorded for Christmas
Every time I hear a Britney Spears holiday song (ie: My Only Wish), I come away singing to myself, not the song I just heard, but "Sometimes". This is annoying.

The version of "I'll Be Home for Christmas" at Williams Sonoma
So I may have lied - not everything at Williams Sonoma is awesome beyond belief. Their Christmas music mix is overall extremely good, with two exceptions. That awful Andy Williams thing mentioned above, and this rendition of I'll Be Home for Christmas by a woman who sounds like she was constipated on a toilet at the time of the recording. I've actually acted out my interpretation of this song for my colleagues to great acclaim. I kind of squat a little and scrunch up my face and sing along to the recording, drawing on my own past experiences in bowel difficulty. Aside from the attention I get from my performance, I enjoy nothing about this song.

Any version of Coventry Carol
This song, with its haunting melody and creepy "lully lullay" chant at the end of every verse makes me think of worms and death.

That Porky Pig version of "Blue Christmas" they play on CHFI
Enough already.

I don't want to give the impression that I am Scroogey about Christmas songs. There are many that I adore, and would sing all year round if I could! Here are some of my favourite Christmas recordings:

Mariah Carey - All I Want for Christmas is You
This song makes me dance till I'm silly in the head. What's even better is that it also makes Eric dance till he's silly in the head. We like to put it on and dance together till we're both so silly in the head, we need to sit down for some quiet time.

John Rutter and the Cambridge Singers - Candlelight Carol, Angel's Carol
These are wonderful choral pieces by John Rutter, which we sang in high school. The melodies are beautiful, and the Cambridge Singers did recordings of them. I sing these a lot in the shower, and also in the car by myself on the way to work. This simulates early morning soprano sectionals at school where I would sing out of tune with a very tired and gross voice.

Percy Faith - Christmas Is
A cheesy upon cheesy rendition of The Christmas Song, which we also sang in choir. The sheet music was complete with stage instructions, including the point at which a young boy should run onto the stage and open a gift box containing a puppy. I don't actually have a recording of this song, I just sing it a lot - again, in the shower.

Lee Ann Womack - The Man With the Bag
This song is very jaunty and gets me jiving and boogeying. It's nice because this song is also included in the Williams Sonoma Christmas selection. I have a personal problem with the song because for some reason, I like to sing "Everybody's waiting for the man in the bag". I'm pretty sure there's no man in any bag in Christmas tradition and lore but for some reason, it seems to roll off my tongue real nice.

South Park - Mr. Hanky the Christmas Poo
I find this song hilarious, and it uses the word "poo" a lot.

Happy final Christmas shopping, and may the malls and restaurants you patronize this season play all carols that don't piss you off.

Egg Fry Rings

It doesn't get any better than this. Egg Fry Rings. We used them this morning, and they rock so hard, I'm going to buy more. So that I can make 8 perfectly round fried eggs at the same time. And then eat them.

The Egg Fry Rings are a Williams Sonoma Exclusive. They are made out of a heavy duty metal, and the rings don't bend. The metal is coated with some kind of non-stick coating, and they slip right off the eggs with little resistance.

I recommend using the Egg Fry Rings with the QuickMist oil sprayer bottle. This oil sprayer distributes a lovely even mist of oil onto the pan. No more puddles of oil for me! Just a fine spray to ensure that my foods won't brown all funny and dull. This sprayer is especially good with my All-Clad double burner griddle, as the oil won't run down into the sides.

Eric and I each consumed two perfectly round fried eggs for breakfast, sandwiched between sections of fresh french baguette. It is now 10:44pm, and we returned from a big dinner at the Scarboro Golf and Country Club not long ago. However, I have just made myself another perfectly round fried egg, sandwiched between sections of fresh french baguette. The yolk burst as I took my first bite and splattered on my face. A small amount also got on my pants. I mopped off my face with the sandwich, thus salvaging the splattered yolk. I am very very full, but very very happy.

Owwwwwwwww

Christmas is fast approaching, and I have accidentally grated off a large chunk of my left index finger with a Microplane Ribbon Grater.

It was a distinctly unpleasant experience. See, we had done some employee-discount shopping at Williams Sonoma, and had invested in a nice collection of Microplane graters. Eric had a real hankering for them back in the summer and wanted one of each kind. So we brought them home, and he proceeded to try to wash them. Well, when it came time to wash the ribbon grater, the cover was stuck! Eric brought it out to the family room where I was innocently and demurely watching tv. I tried to get the cover off a few times and we agreed, it was stuck. But then I had to try one last time. I applied a steady force, and suddenly the cover wrenched loose!

Unfortunately, my left forefinger was roughly pulled by momentum right down the front of the grater. I screamed bloody murder. I jumped up and down. I cried. I don't react well to pain. I quickly ran it under some water...I don't know if I'm supposed to do that. But we had no BandAids or Polysporin, so Eric made me hold a wad of tissue tight against my bloody mangled finger while he ran out to buy some.

When we gingerly pulled back the tissue, we found that it had already crusted up onto the open wound. I had to pry it off, moaning and wheezing the whole time. A large and thick flap of skin/flesh was still attached on one side. Eric made me fold the flap down onto the wound and assured me that the skin would "reattach". I kind of think he made that up. I tried, but the skin had already started to dry out, so it was hard and not very pliable.

Then we bandaged it up, and I've been whimpering about my hurty finger ever since. I am experiencing difficulty typing, washing my hair, and doing dishes of any kind.

Speak!!

We were (I was) waiting for Rent the movie to come out for months and months! We finally went to go see it last night. You may be asking, "If you were such a Rent keener, why didn't you go when it came out on Wednesday?" In which case, I would reply "America's Next Top Model was on Wednesday, and on Thursday we had to go to Eric's parents' house for 'American Thanksgiving'. And why do you care? Why are you being an ass by asking a question like that?"

Anyway, it was really awesome. Really really awesome. It was very true to the original musical, and since 6 out of the 8 original cast members were in the movie, the music all sounded right.

And Roger was so hot. Taye Diggs also. Wow. I'm in full crush mode! As usually happens when you put gorgeous men with gorgeous singing voices in front of me. I'm especially hungry for gorgeous men who can sing because as wonderful as Eric is, he is heinously tonedeaf and has no rhythm at all. In some ways it's sad, because that's SUCH turn on for me, but in some ways it's extremely impressive, because it means he got the top job without having one of the major qualifications. Ten points for Eric! But seriously, after watching Rent, I'm kind of wishing that I had a heroin addiction so that my hot ex-junkie boyfriend would grab me by the shoulders and shake me while singing furiously.

It would appear that my fantasies have taken an odd turn.

Willing to work for discount

I'm normally a respectable lazy person, who prefers to be sitting on a couch rather than doing something active, and who prefers lying on the aforementioned couch rather than sitting on it. But offer me an opportunity to get a 40% discount on Williams-Sonoma merchandise, and I'm all over it like shit on a fat kid*!

So I decided to apply for a seasonal position at Williams-Sonoma, just for the holidays. My interview was on Saturday, and I have to be honest, I rocked it really hard. There's no way they could have NOT hired me. So my orientation is on Sunday, and I probably start working next week. I have prepared for my new job by making a list of all the things I plan to buy with my discount.

Go me!

* This expression was coined by my roommate Gloria in 2002. She liked to use sayings like "I'm all over it like a fat kid on a Smartie" and "Same shit, different hole" (which, I've got to say, is the wrong use of that saying...I'm pretty sure she meant Same shit, different PILE, because really how improbably disgusting is it that the same shit is coming out of a different hole?). Anyway, one day Gloria was about to casually toss out one of those gems in a conversation and got them muddled. Thus, "All over it like shit on a fat kid" was born. Variations include "Same shit, different fat kid" and "All over that like Smarties on shit" and "Shit all over fat kids like Smarties in different holes".

These are the things we ate this weekend

On Friday, as per Eric's post, we went to see Harry Potter. Fantastic movie, but Eric didn't wake me up from my nap until it was nearly time to go to get in line to get good seats. So once we were sitting down (next to the disgusting phlegm man), Eric went out and got:

• 2 personal pan pizzas from Pizza Hut
• 1 large french fries with gravy from New York Fries
• 1 large Diet Coke

The pizzas were horrible, really nasty. The fries would have been good if it weren't for the gravy, which was really not good. The Diet Coke was normal. We ate these, with 15 minutes left till the movie started, just enough time for Eric to go out and get:

• 1 large popcorn, no extra butter on top

I don't know why Eric only got one bag of popcorn, because I feel he should know by now that I don't share popcorn. So it happened that I ate all the popcorn. And it was delicious.

Then on Saturday, we woke up and had a lot to do! I had a hair appointment at noon, so it left no time for lunch. Eric dropped me off at the hair salon and then went out and got:

• 1 6-inch Cold Cut Trio Subway sandwich

I ate that sometime in the 40 minutes that I was sitting there waiting for my highlights to lighten. Then we went to Yorkdale Mall where I had an interview for a seasonal position at Williams-Sonoma (the discount is fantastic)! Eric also bought a pair of jeans, and I picked up lipstick for my mom.

Then we went home, where we couldn't decide what to do for dinner. We had originally planned to cook something, but we couldn't think of what to cook, and since my hair had just been styled, I did not want to stand in the kitchen and make it smell like food. As a result, Eric went out and got:

• 1 20-piece bucket of KFC, with Extra Crispy skin
• 1 large cardboard container of KFC fries
• 2 small containers of KFC Macaroni Salad
• 1 small pot of KFC gravy

We happily devoured all of the chicken, minus 6 pieces. Wait a second, that can't be right...there's no way we ate 14 pieces of chicken. It must not have been a 20-piece bucket. Anyway, we ate the chicken, then loaded our grease-laden bodies into our evening finery, and proceeded to head downtown to the King Edward Hotel for the Annual John Orr Alumni Dinner and Dance, minus the dinner portion. It's a Queen's thing. Anyway, the price of drinks was horrific:

Mixed drinks: $8
Domestic beer: $6.50
Imported beer: $8
Wine: $9

I consumed 4 bottles of domestic beer, and proceeded to have a fantastic time! Oil thigh and all that.

On Sunday morning, I woke up very hungover and wanting to see my mommy. So we got dressed and went to the bowling alley where she has Sunday morning bowling league to find her. We ended up going to a fantastic northern Chinese place we used to frequent a lot, called Asian Legend. We ordered:

• 2 steamed soup-filled dumplings (6 in each order)
• 1 glutinous rice roll with meat floss
• 1 green onion beef roll
• 1 bowl dan dan noodles
• 1 mushu beef
• 1 weird porridge thing that I never eat
• 1 deep fried tofu, spicy sauce on the side
• 1 pan fried chicken dumplings (4 in each order)

I partook of all items except for the weird porridge thing. After lunch, we said goodbye to my mom and Uncle Leo, and went to a Chinese supermarket to buy a couple boxes of raw shrimp. We then proceeded to Loblaws where we picked up some other groceries.

Upon our return to the condo, we decided a fun thing to do would be to play with our slow cooker and try a chili recipe. We chopped up ingredients and browned beef, and threw everything into our slow cooker for four hours on high. Then I tried a new recipe...I had looked up a copycat recipe for Popeye's buttermilk biscuits, and I was definitely in a biscuity mood. So I mixed up some Bisquick, sour cream, and club soda. Then I brushed on a lot of butter and baked them up into:

• 8 imitation Popeye's biscuits

The texture was good, but the taste was a little "off". I plan to try again tonight, tweaking some ingredients. Then when the chili was ready we ate that with some rice. Then David and Heidi came over and we watched Desperate Housewives during which Eric ate:

• 3 scoops of white chocolate candy cane ice cream

which is a concoction of mine from last week.

And those are all the things we ate this weekend.

Eric ruined my silk top

He put it in the wash, regular cycle, detergent, fabric softener...everything except put it in the dryer. My co-worker assures me that this will happen several more times at least, and I should learn not to become too attached to my nice clothes. And while I appreciate that my husband helps with the laundry and tries his best to do a good job with them, I do reserve the right to be upset in the event of the destruction of a favoured article.

Silk top featured above in engagement portraits shot by Janet Trost

This particular top was very nice. It was a dark green bebe top, sleeveless with a plunging v-neck. The shoulder straps weren't too skinny, and while the back also plunged in the same deep v, it was not too low that I couldn't wear a bra. As a result, it made my boobs look quite good. It was sequined in a pretty pattern on the front. It looked great with jeans, a tiny tan skirt, and also black pants. Granted, I can still wear it, the only problem is that the material no longer has a lovely silky sheen to it. Now it looks like faded lumpy pyjama material.

Eric has humbly requested that I allow him to buy me a new bebe top. I suppose that under the circumstances, I must grant his wish.

Now I want a new house, too

We went to a wicked housewarming party this weekend. It was in Elmira, which is a suburb of Kitchener/Waterloo. Jordan and Lindsey (shown left, picture stolen from Chris Robb's website) bought their house back in the summer before their wedding. The house is extremo lovely, with upgraded stainless steel appliances and ceramic tile everywhere. And a 42" Sony TV! Eric immediately went to Best Buy today to see about financing options to also get a 42" Sony TV.

Now I'm itching for a house, too! I have friends buying up houses everywhere...Hilda bought a condo, Jordan and Lindsey bought their lovely Elmira home, and Rob bought a house in Ottawa. David sold his part of his condo, and while that's in the opposite direction, it still has to do with property and the buying and selling thereof. It's everything I can do to continue believing that renting is the best thing for us right now! These are the reasons: we don't want to live in hardcore suburbia yet, and we just can't afford to buy anything in this area that's any bigger than the size of a large broom closet.

Speaking of sizes of large broom closets, allow me to bemoan my ass again: We ate a very big buffet lunch today at the Hilton, and it's probably really not helping matters. It was my brother Derek's 21st birthday party, and we had a party at the restaurant at the Hilton Suites Hotel, same place Eric and I got married. My ass is still overly large, and I tried on my John Orr dress today, and it's not looking quite as attractive as I recall, due largely in part to the giant fat rolls cascading down the front of the dress, and the way my thighs are growing sideways. Eric is downstairs working out at the condo gym right now, because he has become very sensitive to comments regarding his weight, and he doesn't like his face fat. Me...well, I'm clearly sitting here on the aforementioned ass, posting to the web blog.

Anyway, congratulations on your amazing new house, Jordan and Lindsey!

Someone left the moonroof open overnight

And now the inside of our car is very wet. Is it one of those unspoken laws? Like the day that it happens to be very beautiful out will be the day you happen to leave your car out of the condo garage overnight will be the same day that you accidentally forget to close the moonroof will be the day preceding a very nasty cold bout of rain?

So you're probably wondering who it was who did this...unfortunately, it was me. Carol.

Eric is currently calling around to places that have giant industrial car dryers. There is only one he has found so far, and I am being inexplicably stubborn about taking the car in. I just don't wanna. I figure, the car will dry by itself eventually. That's why evaporation was invented.

On a happier note, today is the end of my 6 month probationary period at work! I made oatmeal raisin cookies and brought them wth me to celebrate. Word on the street is that they're awesome! People who typically ignore me are flocking to my room, "Oh hey, look at that, you have cookies!" Someone actually yelled down the hall "CAROL HAS TREATS!!" I work with a fat and greedy bunch. But now I can never be fired. Because apparently, you can be more useless than a blind monkey with no hands around here, they still won't fire you. That means that I can work with these people forever.

Eric brought me flowers yesterday because I was feeling sick. It was a terrific surprise! I wonder if he would have done it if he'd known I was going to ruin the car?

We have gained 35 pounds since our wedding

My butt is monstrous.

Welcome to our blog! Having recently embarked on the love boat known as marriage, Eric and I realized there were several things we needed: a grocery budget, a new bookshelf, RRSPs, and a web blog. We have the web blog.

We have been married for just over three months, and we have collectively accumulated 35 additional pounds in weight. Eric is responsible for 20 of these pounds, and I for 15. I am currently only able to fit into my fat jeans, and Eric is convinced that his black pants are so tight, they are bruising his internal organs. He has been complaining of stomach pains since Friday. I think he just ate too much baklava.

We were married on July 23, 2005 on a beautiful summer day. Way warm but not humid, sunny but not scorching. We were 35 pounds lighter at the time. One of our groomsmen ripped off his shirt and writhed on the dance floor at our reception, and the next day we boarded a plane and set off on our honeymoon. We then proceeded to eat France and Spain in just three weeks.

So now! We are living in our trendy condo with stainless steel appliances, and resolving every day to get to the gym. And from this day forward, we will endeavour to share our newlywedded experiences with you.