Snip Snip Rip Rip.

Today, I got muh hair cut.  I set up an appointment for 5:30 today at a new place in town.  I've had so many bad hair experiences, I was pretty nervous about getting it cut.  I just don't think I could ever take getting another bad hair cut.

Never again.  Never. Again.
[via smosh]

I've had times where my hair just gets so long and the ends start to split.  Everyone gets split ends.  But people, these splits make one piece of hair into five.  My last haircut was in October.  Seriously.  I was in Ithaca at the time, and I needed one.  Bad.  My dead hair was weighing everything down to the point where everyday despite my efforts, I looked like Lord Farquaad

ALL THE DAMN TIME.
[via scenicreflections]

Heavy at the bottom.  Thin at the top.  I was a walking nightmare.  I needed to chop off the Farquaad.  I was desperate.  I was walking through the commons, looking for anything with scissors.  I found an old school barbershop in the Center of Ithaca, and I walked in.  I needed a cut and this man who looked to be suffering from the early stages of Parkinson's disease was going to do the deed.  He sat me down, SPRAYED my hair until it was wet, and cut one straight line at about chin height.  Then he let me go. I looked horrible.  And my hair grew out from there and it has been unruly ever since.  

So I had enough and went to a new salon.  I intended to get just a cut and style, but the lady had other plans for me.  Somehow, this woman convinced me to get an eyebrow wax.  

Let's pause.

Hot wax has never touched my face.  I've never gotten my eyebrows waxed.  But it was already happening.  I could feel the lady spreading the wax, comfortably warm on my skin.

Basically.
[via blogcdn]

I feel her putting something on the wax, then her fingers massaging just a little, then...RIIIIIIIIIP.

Wowza.

It hurt a little.  I mean, it's nothing to cry about.  But it's just a surprise.  It wasn't bad and I think she actually did a good job.  I've seen some ladies I know get their eyebrows done and they look like Frankenstein.  Honestly.  But I do not look like Frankenstein. At six in the morning though, we might have a completely different situation on our hands...

But anyway.  So after half of my eyebrows are removed, my hair gets washed and she gets going.  I love my new haircut.  I really do.  I think it looks great.  If you don't, just go away.  

It's a little under my shoulders, probably 3 or 4 inches shorter than it used to be.  It has a slight side bang and it looks phenomenal.  I'm excited to like my hair for once in my life.  

But with my hair all freshly chopped, I most certainly have bigger fish to fry in my life. 

Preferrably haddock.
[via palscience]

My top wisdom teeth are being removed tomorrow.  I'm in pain.  Every damn time I yawn, my jaw just ignites on fire.  And with working full time, I yawn more than the Average Joe/Jane/Joe-Jane-GOG.  It sucks.  And after tomorrow morning, I won't be able to eat solid-ish food for a few days.

All aboard the yogurt train.  For real.

I shall be eating/drinking/slurping yogurt for days.  And pain pills.  

Huzzah.

I'll let you know how everything goes.  I promise.

Ranting.

I've got a few bones to pick with some things I've currently witnessed throughout this week.  I don't know why I have such a problem with these things, perhaps you do too.  But I really do have an issue with these things.  I'm sorry if you read what I'm about to write and become offended.

1. Since when did brown cars become popular?
Alright people.  Seriously.  There are some things I just can never understand, and one of them is why car makers thought that brown was a good color to paint an automobile.

WHY.
[via aftonstation]

Do you know what came to mind when I saw the seven or eight brown fugly cars that drove past me during my five mile drive home from the gym?  Here comes Rolling Turd #5.  That's what I thought of when I saw the fifth one.  You can substitute other numbers in of course.

But these cars look like thousand-pound pieces of crap to me.  Literally.

Is it just me or do you guys think that brown cars aren't attractive?  There are so many colors that are better suited for cars.  Like navy blue. You know, I drove a navy blue Mustang the other day for work and it was AWESOME.  Why can't more cars be navy blue?  WHY.

Mmmm. That's more like it.
[via fordoflexington]

2. Why the hell do guys at the gym feel the urge to grunt?
Alright, so I've been going to the gym daily for about two weeks now.  I've forgotten my iPod ONCE and I have learned that if I ever do it again, I have to turn back and retrieve it.  But even when I remember my iPod and I'm blasting Super Mash Bros until I hear nothing else, sometimes some disturbing noises sneak through.

Ugh. Yeah. UGH. Dude, look at my muscles.  Ugh. Ninety-four.  Ugh.  Two hundred.  UGH. UGH. Ugh. YEAH. YEAH.


Stop.

Seriously.
[via argylelife]

Today was fine, and honestly I was going to just shrug it off.  I thought I could get my workout in without hearing testosterone explode from the vocal chords of the men around me.  Forty-five damn minutes into my routine, I take a seat and start teachin' my triceps a lesson in PAIN.  Listening to some hardcore Ludacris, I hear some loud-ass noise through my music.  Not in the mood, meathead.  Not.  In.  The.  Mood.  This dude was grunting so loud, I'm pretty sure he was echoing.  ECHOING.  What the hell, man.  Have some class.

So that loud grunting lasted for around five minutes.  Then he left.

THERE IS A GOD.
[via bloggingheads.tv]

And then I moved on.  My arms were tired, so I decided to torture my abs next.  Google the Abcoaster.  You have no idea the pain this causes my stomach every time I use it.  Guys, it's most certainly a legit piece of exercise equipment.  I love it and hate it.

Anywho.  I mounted the Abcoaster and got down to business.  I use 20lbs of resistance and stole 10lbs from the other machine that I thought was finished.  Mostly because nobody was on it and there was no sign that anyone intended to get on it soon, but whatever.  Some dude in leprechaun green shorts gave me one of the dirtiest looks I have ever received.

Basically.
[via thatgirlisfunny]

So he left for thirty seconds and came back with a 10lb weight in his hand, popped it on the part of the Abcoaster that I stole the other weight from and went at it.  Right next to me.  At this point, I was sandwiched between two old men, including leprechaun man .  Leprechaun man started grunting.


For the love of Jesus.  Here we go again.  Two in one damn night. He was just as loud as the caveman I heard when I was working out my arms.  ONLY HE WAS TWO DAMN FEET AWAY FROM ME.  Even Disturbed couldn't drown him out.  And he wasn't even grunting to the beat.  How rude.

I hate the grunters.  If you hate them too, we have the possibility to form an extremely strong friendship.  So holla if you're a hater.

3. Why is watermelon only available in the summer?
I think I'm in love with a fruit.  I'm legitimately addicted to watermelon.  I'm addicted and I just can't get enough.

Black Eyed Peas shoutout.
[via idolator]

It's so good.  I can eat watermelon until my bladder makes me stop.  Even then, I will push myself to the limit and tell me bladder to shut its mouth if it means that I can eat ten more pieces of watermelon.  One time in college, I laid down a garbage bag on the floor, cut open a watermelon and went at it.

Like a lion attacking a limping baby gazelle, I mauled that watermelon.  There was watermelon juice all over my arms, legs, stomach, neck, chest and face.  At one point, I think my entire face was inside of the watermelon.  INSIDE OF THE WATERMELON.  So good.  Watermelon is summer perfection.  And I would eat it in the winter too.  BUT I CAN'T.  I'm melancholy and the only cure is more watermelon.

And perhaps a touch of cowbell.
[via bythelbs]

I just want it all year round, is that so hard to ask?

Ree-dic-you-luss.

I think this has been one of the busiest weekends of my life.  An incredible, busy weekend.  I went to a kick-ass concert on Friday night and made something fit only for the Gods on Saturday.  You ready to hear about my weekend? Because after all, this blog IS about me.  

Yup.  Just went there.  And for the three or four people that actually read this, prepare to be amazed.

Friday

My day started off bright and early at 6 o'effing-clock in the morning.  I went to work and sacrificed my lunch break in order to leave early to fulfill my destiny.  Because on Friday, I went and saw Maroon 5 in concert.  

OH HELL YES.

[via asongdaybyday]

The weather was beautiful, we snagged a PRIME parking spot, and we arrived early.  And when you get to a concert early, that's when you get the awesome spots.  And the spot we ended up in was disgustingly amazing.  But when the opening act started, I started feeling nauseous.  Guys, I've never felt this horrible in my entire life.  I was sweating, but I was freezing.  I was shaking and felt like I was ten seconds from chundering and twenty seconds from passing out cold.  Come on.  I needed to move or else something bad was going to happen.

 I weighed my options: either stay, feel horrible and risk vomming all over the girl to my left, or leave and grab a bottle of water, knowing that I probably wouldn't ever have the chance to make eye contact with Adam Levine.  

I had to leave.  I had to get out of there or else something bad was really going to happen.  And yup, I lost my spot.  Two of my friends stayed in our spot during the entire concert while myself and another friend were significantly farther.  That definitely sucked.  But I understand why they did it, and I can only blame myself for feeling like crap.

I made the best of it though.  I danced like a fool, sang duets with the band (without them knowing) and made my other friend (who was seriously bumming out) smile.  

This was me.  All at once.
[via berkeleyside]

I have to say, if you ever get the chance to see Maroon 5 in concert, GO.  Seriously, they sound amazing and they put on an incredible show.  I would love to see them again.  I shall try.

On the way home, we grabbed some McDonald's.  Never again...

Saturday

I started my day off groggily by heading to the gym.  In my haze from catching only seven hours of sleep (don't judge me), I forgot my damn iPod.  Come on.  What the hell. I hate gym music.  I hate gym music like fathers of twelve year old girls hate Justin Bieber concerts.  That's some pretty strong aversion.  And the gym that I go to has horrific gym music.  It started off fine, but five miles into my bike ride, the bad stuff started up. And dear God that music was not workout worthy.  I listen to disgustingly prolific rap and rock music.  Stuff that gets your blood flowing, you know?  But I actually had to cut my workout twenty minutes short because I could not stand torturing my ears.  It's self abuse and I was having none of it.

But there was a positive point to my gym experience.  What was playing on the TV in front of me?  Some old school That's So Raven.  That's right.  It made my day.  And this episode was from the beginning of the show, you know, when the mother was actually in the picture and Cory was a 'lil porker.

Oh nostalgia.
[via buddytv]

After, family came and visited.  So naturally, I had to whip out all the stops.  I had to make something so divine, something so unfathomable that only the crazy ones would craft it.  Once upon a time, when I first got a stumbleupon, I found a recipe that made me salivate instantaneously.  It held everything a dessert lover could ever ask for.  Pie.  Cookies.  Ice cream.  Cake.  Frosting.  In one.  

I can't even think about them without drooling.  Profusely.  Like Niagara Falls up in here.  

So come with me, and let me tell you how you can create tangible perfection.  Come with me on this journey, friends, and never look back.

This is something that takes some time, but building it is amazing.  It's how I imagine how an artist feels when she's painting something and watches it come together.  Magical.

It's layered.  There are actually six layers.  It goes like this: pie crust, cookie dough, frosting, ice cream, cake, and frosting.  Oh and who could forget sprinkles?  No one.  It is an ice cream cake cookie pie.  

And nothing but happiness and rainbows come from this.

So if you want to ever make these, imma show ya how.  There are a ton of pictures, so if you are hungry I would advise you to stop reading this until you consume mass amounts of food.  

Step 1: Grease.  Take some soft butter and grease the living hell out of a muffin tin and a cookie sheet.  Do as I say.

Step 2: Pie crust.  Get a cookie cutter and make 'lil pie crust circles.  Once you've got twelve, pop them in the muffin tin and poke a few holes in ze bottom.  You know, for aeration and whatnot.

Salivation meter at a 1 out of 10.

Step 3: Cookie dough.  Take some sugar cookie dough and spoon some into each muffin cup.  Push it down, and if you have to use your hands, do what you gotta do.  I used my hands to push it down and I did just fine.   Once you've put them in the oven, put them in the oven and bake them until the crust begins to brown and the cookies are baked all the way.  After they're baked, take them out of the muffin tin and place them somewhere else so they can cool faster.

Salivation meter at 3 out of 10.

Sidenote - this is when the kitchen started smelling amazing.  My olfactory nerves were having a HAYDAY.  If you only knew.

Step 4: Cake.  So right after you put the stuff in the oven, you should take that time to put together the cake that will be on the finished product.  Naturally, red velvet cake was the first choice.  Because it's awesome.  And luckily, Wegman's had red velvet cake mix, which made my life a million times easier.  When you're making the cake, I like to sift the powder because it makes the cake lighter and it gets all of those stupid-ass lumps out of it.  

Not to mention the cool sifting pictures.

So once you've got your delicious batter together, spread some of it onto the greased cookie sheet I made you do during Step One.

You're going to have extra batter, I just made a separate cake out of it.  Once the cookie-pie muffin tin extravaganza is finished and it's out of the oven, bake the cake as directed on the box.

While that's in the oven, this would be the best time to make your frosting.  Obviously, the best frosting to complement the perfection of red velvet cake is cream cheese frosting.  Cream cheese frosting...how wonderful.  And this, folks is homemade.  With love and happiness and rainbows and everything else.

Salivation meter at a 5.5 out of 10.

Step 5: Cream cheese frosting.  Take a stick of unsalted butter and put it in a bowl.  Put a brick of cream cheese in that bowl and blanket them both with teaspoon of vanilla and 2 wonderful cups of powdered sugar. Oh dear God yes.  I effing love cream cheese frosting.  It tastes like cheesecake, or at least mine does...

Blend it until it's creamy and perfect.  You too should be salivating.  

Because I sure am.  6.45 out of 10.

Step 6: Layering.  So take the cake out of the oven when it's ready.  After that, take some of that frosting and put it on the cookie.  

Let the cake cool while you whip out that tub of ice cream that's sitting in the freezer.  Let is soften just ever so slightly and put it in a ziploc baggie.  I think that making ghetto pastry bags is once of my favorite things to do.  

Step 7: Ice cream.  Cut off the little corner and pipe some of the ice cream onto the frosting-cookie-pie.  It's going to melt a little, but it's alright.  It will refreeze in ze freezer and become perfection.  But for now, when ice cream soup begins to form, don't fret.

Step 8: Cake cutting.  Once the cake has cooled, you're going to want to cut out circles from the pan to fit onto the ice cream you just piped.  I found that a shot glass worked really well.  I just used it as a stencil and cut around it.

Salivation meter at 8 out of 10.

Once you've got the cake rounds cut, place one on each little ice cream covered pie-cookie.  Place it tenderly, as if placing a baby in its cradle.  Cherish what you have created thus far and appreciate that there is only more goodness to come.  Put those cake covered lovelies in the freezer until the ice cream is rehardened.    This will make your life ten times easier when it comes time to frost them.

FREEZE! FREEEEEZEEE!!!!!

Step 9: Frosting. Take another ziploc bag and put the cream cheese frosting you made into it.  Yet another ghetto pastry bag.  It's wonderful.

Snip off the corner and start piping the frosting on.  Pipe until your heart tells you to stop.  Or until you run out of frosting.  The second seems like what would happen first.  Is it just me?  I hope not.

Step 10: Sprinkles.  Once you've frosted each beautiful ice cream cake cookie pie, decorate it just ever so slightly.  I put red sprinkles to accentuate the cake.

They are beautiful.  Dare I say...perfect.

They beg to be eaten.  They cooed to me when I was sprinkling them.  "Eve, we're so cold from being in the freezer.  Put us in your mouth so we can warm up! It's the right thing to do.  Trust us, Eve.  Trust us!"  Oh delicious ice cream cake cookie pies, how I wish I could eat you all.  But I don't think anyone could eat an entire batch.  Mostly because they are incredibly rich.  Incredibly delicious.  Incredibly unbelievably magnificent.  Dear God.

Salivation meter at a 34151 out of 10.

 You can make these any way you want.  The possibilities are infinite.  But I highly recommend making these bad boys at least once in your life.  They are so damn delicious.

And just to tease you even more, I cut one in half so you can see the layers.

Salivation meter is at 45787514897543457 out of 10.

Beautiful.  Enjoy making them if you decide to.  They are most certainly worth the work.

Blerg.

I'm a hot mess right nizzle.  ugh.  Ugh.  UGH.

I've had toothaches for a while, and I finally sucked it up and called up the dentist today during my lunch break.  It went a little something like this:

Receptionist: "Hello, thank you for calling [I will not tell you my dentist's office over the internet, you stalkers.], how can I help you?"
Me: "Yes, hi.  I hate to be one of those people that tells you her whole life story, but lately my back molars have been KILLING me and I was wondering if there's someway I could make an appoi--"
Receptionist: "Yes, Eve we can actually take you right now.  Literally, we have nothing until 4pm.  Do you want to swing on by?"
Me: "Umm...well talk about speediness! Yeah sure, I mean I can go over.  See you later..."
Receptionist: "Sounds great! See you soon!"


Oh the life of a receptionist.  I know their pain.  I understand how you just want the phone conversation to end, because you have ten other ones ringing at the same time.  I know how exhausting it gets when the person on the other line spends fifteen minutes talking about their entire life and how their actions have led up to that phone conversation.  I've heard it all.  And I'm sure they have too...

This just felt like the right picture to put up...
[via researchhistory]

So I get there, and they plop me in a room, and check me out.  Yup, just as they suspected, it's those damn wisdom teeth.  God damn them.  Why do they even exist?! I hate you, wisdom teeth.  I've already been through this before about two years ago when I had my bottom two removed.  And now it's time for the top two, baby.  WAHH THEY HURT.  Luckily though, the dentist gave me some pain meds to ease the throbbing of my back teeth.  Yeah, teeth THROB.  I didn't know either.  But I have been enlightened.  


But whilst this pain has been occurring this past week, obviously I thought that the best way to cure the pain was by baking things.  Two nights ago, I whipped together little cutsie cherry pies.  They are so adorable.  I made them in a muffin tin.  Out of boredom, I noticed that we had those stupid pie crusts in the fridge.  I looked a little harder into the depths and I noticed a can of cherry pie filling.  Naturally, I made a pie.  But I didn't have enough filling to make a mama pie, so obviously the only other way a pie was being made was to make it smaller.  


And I succeeded. 

So I might have put too much filling in them.  Sue meh.

I would definitely do this again.  It's so easy to make these little suckers, it's actually a little pathetic. All you do is take the pre-made pie crust out of the fridge, cut circles that would fit into the muffin cups, put the pre-made cherry filling into the pie crusts, and then put some more crust on top, poke a few holes up in there and bake them.  


But be warned.  If you decide to to make something like this for a party or whatever (highly recommended, by the way), there are a few important tips I shall give you that will make your life a bajillion times easier.


1. Grease the hell out of the muffin tin.  Seriously, you have to think that the filling is going to erupt into the little cracks between the crust and the metal of the tin.  Because it will.  Don't be shy when you grease the pan, because the more butter you slap on the muffin tin, they less work you're going to have to do when it's time to get these bad boys out.

GREASE THAT PAN UNTIL YOUR EYES BLEED.

2. Poke holes in your crust before you put in the cherry filling. You should really do this whenever you bake a pie, but it's just another thing to make sure the crust doesn't stick.  It also provides ventilation so the pie cooks evenly.  I know most people enjoy a good evenly-cooked pie.  I sure do.

3. Don't watch the pie the entire time.  I did, because I wasn't sure how long they needed to cook, but I was torturing myself.  They were just teasing me, those pies.  "Eat me! Eat me!" Oh pies, how I wish I could! But you're not fully cooked yet! 


Yeah I talk to my baked goods now, get at me.  


Anyway, I'm making banana bread tonight.  And I really don't like banana bread, but my parents went grocery shopping and my mom thought it would be a good idea to buy bananas off the stem.  First of all, no.  Second of all, what the hell.  These stupid-ass bananas came in a BAG and they aren't attached (ie. off the stem).  I would shrug it off, but when they removed the nanas from the stem, they basically peeled off about an eighth of each banana, exposing it to the harsh world.


No, cruel banana farmers! You mean-spirited fools! How dare you let those bananas out in public all naked and scared!  Idiots.  Without the stem, they're all bruised and ruined. 

They look like the way a mugger would look if he tried to whoop me.
[via untitledname]

So that's what's going down in my life.  I am in misery.  There ain't nobody who can comfort me. Oh yeah. 


Going to a Maroon 5 concert on Friday.  I'm excited.  

Spicy, Charred & Creamy. ALL IN ONE DAY.

I was bad today.  I didn't go to the gym.  Instead, I ate delicious spicy tomato oil with bread for two of my three meals.  I'm feeling a tinge of regret, but it is smothered by the divinity that is that drug-like oil.

I bought it yesterday when I was Downtown, from a cute little bakery across the street from the restaurant that uses the oil in their dishes.  Pastabilities is the name.  I swear to all that is holy, Pastabilities will be the one thing that will bring me to my knees and have me begging for mercy.  Pastabilities will be the restaurant that will crumble my dream of losing weight.

There has to be cocaine in that oil.  It's just too addictive to not have cocaine in it.

Oh dear God I'm drooling.
[via syracuse.com]

Basically, if I think this stuff is godly, you should know that it's pretty damn boss.

Sorry, I just got off on a tangent.  It's Father's Day!

I've said this before, I absolutely love my Dad.  I think he's awesome.  Because he really is.  And luckily, it was a GORGEOUS day today (something very rare, let me tell you).  So a nice day at Eve's house involves five things:
1. Barbecue, delicious delicious barbecue.
2. Molson Canadian beer.  For those of legal age.  We here don't operate no underage bar/brothel, ya dig?
3. Classic rock playing in the background.
4. Serious pool time, swimming.  This also always involves me pushing pretty much everyone in. MUAHAHA.

Pretty much.
[via masterfile]

5. Playing with Gary in the sun.

And today (and for the rest of time), there was a sixth crucial factor to today's backyard extravaganza: Lucy.


Oh Lucy, how I loveth thee.

She's just so beautiful.
[via wikoshop]

So while everyone was laughing and having a good time, I was having a sicknasty photoshoot.  I have included some photos from today.  I hope you enjoy them.  Of course, I shot some more of my beloved.

Gary...I love you.

And I shot some pictures of Dorothy and her boyfriend jumping in ze pool.  I enjoy watching them fall.  It's not just me, right?

I'm entertained.

All in all, it was a pretty smashing day.  I finished off my Sunday binges with an ice cream cone.  But this was no ordinary ice cream cone.  While glancing the menu, fully prepared to order my usual twist with chocolate sprinkles, I noticed that there was a cone option called, "Double Header." Double header? What the hell? I was bamboozled.  Curious, I asked the ice cream dude, and basically it sounded awesome.

AND IT WAS.

YUP. BASK IN ITS GLORY.
[via myfatcubanfamily]

Let's just say that I know what I'll be ordering from now on.

Well I'm going to go bake a pie now.  Mostly out of boredom.  Slash I want to see how Lucy can photograph food.  Mmm.

Wow. Just...Wow.

Despite my usual weekends, today was actually quite eventful.  YOU READY TO READ?!?!!?!??! You best be.

HERE WE GO.

Event 1: Le Gym.
I try to work out regularly. If you have been reading lately, hopefully you know that I need lose some weight and I'm working on it.  But one of my favorite parts of the gym is people watching.  DEAR GOD.  Some of the people there...

The gym's laid out in kind of horseshoe style.  One section has the TVs, the other has some weights and treadmills and ellipticals without TVs and the other end is the big-time weights.  Now I have yet to venture deep into the weights.  It's not because I'm against weightlifting.  I'm not, I promise.  It's more like I feel like the black sheep.  Why?  Well because I'm not a man, I'm not incredibly tan and guido-like, and I actually have a neck.

Unlike this fellow here.
[via shavenomore]

I think I have twice their IQ.  Legitimately.  Oh lord.  Anywho, while I'm workin' on my triceps on the outskirts of the weight section, I see the meatheads in packs comparing muscle size and the orange hues coating their once-pale epidermis.  I can't understand them.

Once I've been going for a while, there will definitely be more stories.  And let me assure you that they will be enjoyable to read.

Event 2: The Ride Home.
It's like a ten-minute drive home.  As I'm playing the radio and driving in the family Ford Freestar, I come to a red light.  I stop, and observe the world around me.  I wish I hadn't.

A car that looks like this was full of regret and confusion earlier today.
[via mogreno]

The light just turns green, and I hear the unmistakable whirring of a sporty motorcycle.  It's whatever.  Only the dude passed by me AND HE WAS DRIVING IT WITH ONE HAND.  The other was sassily placed on his hip.

I'm sorry, but WHAT THE HELL.  Who drives a motorcycle with one damn hand?! Who is STUPID enough to put themselves, let alone everyone else on the road with them in danger?!??!?

No one.  NO ONE SHOULD.  It's the mother in me.  I'm sorry if I don't like to see people die.  Am I crazy or is that ridiculous?

Event 3: Bank Account Drainage.
I've saved up for this for a while.  It's actually made me realize that working full time and sacrificing my social life has its payoffs.  And by payoffs, I mean that I just bought something really expensive and I have no regrets.  None at all.

"But Eve, why did you spend so much money? What could you buy that cost you so much?!"


Oh readers, I just treated myself to a Nikon DSLR.  A D3000 to be exact.  I'm in love.  It's everything I wanted and it's something I've been dreaming about owning for years.  I'm a little bit of a photographer, and I've wanted an SLR ever since I could form a sentence in Spanish.  So since seventh grade, this was a goal.  And now, friends, this goal is a reality.  And it's all because of that damn job.  I can't really hate it now...

Yes I can.  I lied.

So after I sold my soul to the Devil and drained my checking account, I trotted home with a grin on my face that was years in the waiting.  I cracked everything open, popped on the lens to the body of the camera, and starting shooting.  OHMYGOD.

Naturally, the first subject I decided to photograph was the love of my life.

Gary.

Don't mind the eye boogers.

The quality of this camera is incredible.  I've decided to name her Lucy.  Lucy is perfect.  Lucy captures the essence of her subjects.

Just admire him.

Lucy has endless potential.  I already know that Lucy and I will be best friends.

The canine Derek Zoolander? I think yes.

I'm going to be putting a ton of my own pictures on here now.  In love.

Event 4: Green Lantern.
I also went to see the Green Lantern today.  Despite my dwindling cash supply, I decided that seeing Ryan Reynolds is worth spending my last few pennies.  Also, I love action movies.  I decided to take someone with me this time, mostly because I was emotionally beaten by people because I went to see X-Men alone.  Sticks and stones, baby.  STICKS AND STONES.

I would not recommend that you pay to see this movie.  Despite my love for Mr. Reynolds, this cinematic 'experience' was not worth the ten dollars I shelled out.  It had cheesy dialogue, a pretty weak plot and very little character development.  Perhaps I'm too critical.  But the only part of the movie I really enjoyed was watching the evil dude with the big-ass brain screaming alone in the corner.

This made my night.
[via screencrave]

 I don't know why this made me laugh out loud. I think it was because this movie was just so ridiculous and so predictable that just watching this man with serious cranial damage scream about nothing made it funny.  Also, his mustache and bald patch doesn't really help out the laugh factor.  Or the pedo factor...maybe that's just me?

Oops I Did It Again.

My legs ache.  My biceps are rebelling right now.  My body doesn't want to type today.  But I don't care.  Because yesterday, I made a pie and I feel as if I need to share it's divine glory with you.  I think I have a serious knack for baking, because YET AGAIN this pie tasted sinful.  Sinfully DELICIOUS.  Dear God.

It was if heaven was watching me make this.  Only I'm not Asian.  And I wasn't baking in a church.
[via lylongfoto.com]

Also, I think I've become obsessed with peanut butter.  I mean, snacking on spoonfuls at a time is typical, but nowadays I can't stop thinking about it.  I put it in everything, y'all.  I layer it in brownies, I spread it on my toast in the morning and then promptly top it with bacon.  DELICIOUS.  Don't judge me.  You have to try peanut butter bacon toast.  For you vegetarian readers out there, I also slice up bananas and put it on my peanut butter toast and it tastes marvelous as well.  Only my parents call me Elvis...

The banana-peanut butter combo is made by the Gods, for the Gods.
[via pollsb]

I don't mind though.  Back to peanut butter.  Luscious, perfect peanut butter.  I made a pie dedicated to it.  I made a pie and covered it in chocolate.  I made a pie covered in chocolate and then I spread an entire layer of whipped cream on top.

Ideas like this should be illegal.

Because they are not, I created this perfect pie.  This pie made people moan today.  I wish I was kidding. It was actually a tad uncomfortable to hear while they put more in their mouth.  But I was secretly pleased...because I knew that once again, I did some good to this world.

But not to waistlines.  Poor, poor waistlines.

OKAY.

Here's the magnificent process I went through yesterday (and this morning).

First, whip up some cream (without sugar) until it looks like whipped cream.  Obviously.  I made the mistake of tending to my sister, forgetting about the sugarless whipped cream, sticking my pinky finger in there and taking a taste.  Never again.  Just plain whipped cream tastes like Grade A rubbish.  It's chalky and thick and you can just taste the fat globs...  I have learned my lesson.  I hope you never experience this.

You deceitful chalky horror, you.

So once you've whipped up the cream, put it in the fridge.  Then you're going to want to beat a brick o' cream cheese until it looks like a cloud, and add in a cup of peanut butter/heaven to the cloud.  Beat that in.  You should definitely start to droll at the possibilities at this point.  Seriously.

Add in 2 tablespoons of soft butter and a tablespoon of vanilla.  Beat it in.  Just beat it, beat it.  Beat it, beat it.

No one wants to be defeated.
[via msofficer]

Mix in a cup of powdered sugar until it's perfect and delicious and wonderful and the heavens sing to you.  It happened for me.  If the heavens don't sing to you, then you obviously haven't done something right.  Mix it until it's smooth.

It should also kinda look like baby poo.  It's okay though.

Once you've got that, open your fridge.  Now look back at me.  Back at your fridge.  Now back at me.  (Old Spice Man reference, anyone?)  Take out the whipped cream you made earlier and FOLD IT INTO THE PIE MIX.  Sweet baby Jesus.  This is where I lost it.  I just couldn't handle the deliciousness contained in this bowl.

YES. JUST YES.

Once you've sopped up the droll off the kitchen floor and you've regained your strength, marvel at your creation.  It was at this point where I poured it into the pre-made chocolate pie crust Mommycakes bought me.  Because making a chocolate crust is a pain in the tookus.  So I poured my heart and soul mixed with peanut butter into this crust and popped in the fridge.  Because while you don't have to bake this pie at all (fantastic), you have to let it set in the fridge for at least 3 hours (bummer).  I just put it in there overnight, it's not a big deal folks.

*salivates*

So after I put that in the fridge, I promptly go to sleep because I'm an old lady.

I woke up this morning, the birds were chirping, someone was playing a harp (or I was hallucinating), everything was great.  EXCEPT THAT I SLEPT IN AN EXTRA HALF HOUR.


RAPID-FIRE SHOWER.  Rapid-fire dress-slappage-on-body.  Rapid-fire throwage-of-cardigan-into-dryer-to-remove-wrinkles.  RAPID-FIRE GANACHE COOKING SESSION.  OH HELL YES.


In the midst of the morning craziness at my house, I made a ganache really fast.  Basically, get a small pot of water boiling and put a glass bowl on it.  When the water's boiling, set it to simmer.  Put a half-cup of heavy cream in the bowl and wait until it bubbles. While I was waiting for the bubbles, I quickly blowdried muh hair.  Mulitasker Award of the Day DEFINITELY goes to me, people.  After some bubblage went down, I threw in 3/4 cup of chocolate chips.

Yup.  That's right.

Just stir it until it's all melted and WALA!  Ganache.  Also, it should be noted that at this point, my contacts were in and I had partial makeup on.  I'm amazing, I know.

Cool off the ganache until it's room temp and pour enough onto the pie to cover the top.  Let it set for about another hour or two and you have a big-ass peanut butter cup.  Mostly peanut butter.

Then put some whipped cream on that bad boy and prepare to be a God.  Typical life.  At least for me that is.  Enjoy you hungry lion(ess) you.