clippin' recipes

DTR

This is guy-speak for "defining the relationship". It is apparently not a good thing, not something that boys like to do. I have my own three letters about relationships: BDR, girl-speak for "big diamond ring". Te he he.

I got yet another article on why diamonds are bad:
http://www.straightdope.com/columns/040903.html

to quote from the article:
"(diamond) prices are kept high by a cynical cartel that preys on vanity and stupidity"

Uhhhh...what's wrong with bein vain and stupid? What's wrong with liking pretty, shiny, sparkly things? This makes me 1. Feel bad. I'm genuinely sorry for the poor diamond workers and 2.Want to pout and stomp my feet and say "that's nottttt faaaaaair! Everybody elllllllse has a diamond, whyyyyyyy can't I???"

What about James Avery? Can I have something from James Avery?
http://www.jamesavery.com/index.jsp
Or is that morally wrong too? Are there also poor exploited silver workers in the world? Why doesn't somebody send me an article about that? I'm just one girl in the world and I already don't eat cows or pigs or chickens or vote for W. Must I be personally responsible for the diamond workers too?

or what about a replica of the ring Ben Affleck gave J Lo?
http://store.evesaddiction.com/rgz10066.html

But if anyone really knew me...
they would know that maybe, just maybe I just don't want to be like anybody else and yes everybody else does have a diamond.

be the bear

I’m just so sleepy today. I usually do fine without much sleep, but then I guess it finally catches up with me and I want to go into hibernation. Saturday morning I fully intend to see exactly how long it is possible for me to sleep. The sleep of the dead. That means I will wake up wide-eyed before Starbucks even opens. Anyways, plan to sleep and then watch Saturday morning cartoons. Oooo and maybe breakfast at Jimmy's Egg even though my body tends to reject food before 1 p.m.

Denise

Smoker boys outside my office finally worked up the courage to start speaking to me. They have realized that not only am I beautiful, but approachable and nice and conversational. They had apparently been discussing what they thought my name was. They came to the conclusion it was “Denise”.

I don’t know if it’s good, bad, indifferent that they thought my name was Denise. My uncle was married to a woman named Denise once, we called her “Aunt Flannel Shirt”. She had a teeny tiny tattoo of a very simple cross on her pinky. I really liked her. Note: Aunt Denise had a heart-shaped diamond ring. Me and all my makeup and girly-girlness liked my lesbian of an aunt. Then Aunt Flannel Shirt decided she would rather be with a woman than a man. I guess that’s no shocker given the nickname “Aunt Flannel Shirt”. It’s not like we were surprised. And my uncle decided he’d rather be married to a 400 lb. black Mormon lady he met on the internet who filled one whole room of his house with canned goods. My uncle and Aunt Flannel Shirt had about a half dozen chiuahuahs they had to divide up custody of….. I wish I was making this stuff up. After the black Mormon, my uncle married someone who was half his age and I believe mildly retarded.

Also have an “Uncle Charlie Manson” and a former uncle who’s name was Joe Fomo. Not a nickname, but does have a certain serial-killer ring to it.

cartoons & recipes

I am the world’s worst at cutting out, clipping cartoons and recipes. When my great uncle passed away in 1995, my dad was executor of the estate and I helped clean out his house. His wife, Hazel, had kept recipe upon recipe upon recipe. Every drawer, cubby, etc. you explored in the kitchen, there was another recipe or 10 or 100 tucked away. I remember thinking how nutty that was. That really made an impression upon me, but every week when the damn food section is in the newspaper, there I am with the scissors. And I think of my Aunt Hazel every single time. But they also kept every single phone book they’d ever gotten in their attic, I’m not quite that bad. I don’t have an attic. If I did, I’d probably use it to store more shoes. Please don't tell me there are impoverished, abused shoe workers. I don't want to know.

-Robyn…where is my mascara?



- posted by Robyn @ 1:00 AM