Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
The Trip, The Week, The Family
This was taken when I was supposed to be packing for my trip. I think that I might have had too much wine. Then again, there's really no such thing as "too much wine," now is there?I did not check my luggage for my trip to Michigan, so my bags did not go to the Philippines. So... win?
I bought my ticket on Sunday and was waiting for the metro at L'Enfant Plaza when my mom called to tell me that my grandpa passed away at 5:35 that evening. So that train ride was a blast, let me tell you. After a slow wait through security, I hopped on the plane and curled up in my window seat and just started to cry. It was bad crying - sobbing, heaving, losing my breath. Not attractive. Oh yeah. A couple sat down next to me and I accidentally elbowed the woman when putting on my seat belt. She soon asked if I was okay. When I explained why my crying was shaking the entire row, she just started talking.
It was nice - I normally shy away from the chatty types when on planes, but she obviously knew that I needed to talk. I told her about living in DC and she told me about her son - the kicker for the Washington Redskins. Crazy!
When we landed, her husband got my suitcase down for me. I thanked them both for keeping my mind off of things, and she hugged me. It was so nice. It was like she was there on purpose.
It was a rough week, with a lot of planning and picking out flowers, visitations, family, friends, and tears. But I'm okay. I kept it together long enough to do a reading at the church, but once we arrived at the cemetery, it was open season. My dad hired a Polish singer to sing a traditional funeral song, and it was heart-wrenching. But then, taps. And guns. And saluting.
And... BAWLING.
But it was nothing short of awesome. Awesome. My grandpa was extremely proud of his military service in WWII, and though he didn't speak of it that often, it was so obvious that he was a member of the Greatest Generation.
Henry Piegza was born on August 22, 1923, the first son of Polish immigrants. He grew up in Detroit, graduated from high school, and served in the South Pacific for the United States Army. He was actually scheduled for the 55th wave of the invasion of Japan, but the war ended.
He married my grandma, Hedwig "Harriet" Jablonski in 1947. My dad arrived in 1950, followed by my three uncles. They celebrated the births of five grandchildren. They toasted to their 50th anniversary in 1997. My grandma passed away in the spring of 2001 and I don't know that his heart ever fully recovered. He was in and out of the hospital for a spell, but it wasn't until this summer that he started to go downhill.
He quietly passed away on October 22, 2007 as the hospital chaplain read the 23rd Psalm. He did not suffer.
I don't think that I can fully explain how proud I am to be his granddaughter. I remember standing on the National Mall for the dedication of the WWII Memorial, surrounded by veterans. They all looked like my grandpa. They cried, I cried, and the sun shone. It was amazing. These men and women put their lives on the line for their country because they felt it was their duty. Because it was right. I am lucky that he survived.
But it wasn't his military service that I will remember - it was the love he had for his family. Every Christmas, he would offer each family member a piece of the traditional opłatek, and he would wish for us to be happy. Happy in love, happy in life... just happy.
And I know that he is now happy. And so am I.
When You're Gone For a Week...
... you get a ton of crap in the mail. Besides the random bills, bank statements, and credit card applications, I got some other tree-killers:
What the hell? Do I really get this many catalogs in a single week? I certainly don't subscribe to them. In fact, besides the magazines I do receive - Self, National Geographic, and Real Simple - the only catalog I have ever requested is IKEA, and has THAT actually been delivered? HAS IT?
So let's see:
Washington National Cathedral (because I love organized religion?)
Delia's (because I'm 14?)
CB2 (because one can never have too many bowls?)
Victoria's Secret (because I love ordering things in September and enjoy not receiving them until sometime in November?***)
Smithsonian (because they totally pay me enough to afford this?)
and
Pier 1 (because I love the commercials with Kirstie Alley?) (I do.)
How do I stop these?
Also, when you're gone for a week, sometimes your roommate has people over and sometimes they vomit in your bathroom sink. And then sometimes they clean it up about as well as a drunk person would. Splattery!
Really.
I'd take a picture, but... no. No one needs to see that.
***I ordered a wool pea coat from Victoria's Secret (apparently they have coats) on September 26. It has been delayed. And back-ordered. And delayed some more. They sent me a $25 gift certificate a few weeks ago as a "thanks for trusting us to deliver on something that we promised to deliver on but now probably won't! EVER!" and last week they credited my credit card for the shipping fees. Great! But still no coat. NOT THAT IT MATTERS ANYWAY, since it's going to be 71 degrees tomorrow. (The high is 67 today, in case you were wondering. And because I *know* you were wondering, people were also wearing coats, scarves, hats, and gloves this morning. Yes, REALLY. Ballhairs.)
I've used the $25 gift certificate because, hello? Free panties? OBVIOUSLY. And those arrived sometime last week. Soooo... where my coat be at, bitches?
What the hell? Do I really get this many catalogs in a single week? I certainly don't subscribe to them. In fact, besides the magazines I do receive - Self, National Geographic, and Real Simple - the only catalog I have ever requested is IKEA, and has THAT actually been delivered? HAS IT?So let's see:
Washington National Cathedral (because I love organized religion?)
Delia's (because I'm 14?)
CB2 (because one can never have too many bowls?)
Victoria's Secret (because I love ordering things in September and enjoy not receiving them until sometime in November?***)
Smithsonian (because they totally pay me enough to afford this?)
and
Pier 1 (because I love the commercials with Kirstie Alley?) (I do.)
How do I stop these?
Also, when you're gone for a week, sometimes your roommate has people over and sometimes they vomit in your bathroom sink. And then sometimes they clean it up about as well as a drunk person would. Splattery!
Really.
I'd take a picture, but... no. No one needs to see that.
***I ordered a wool pea coat from Victoria's Secret (apparently they have coats) on September 26. It has been delayed. And back-ordered. And delayed some more. They sent me a $25 gift certificate a few weeks ago as a "thanks for trusting us to deliver on something that we promised to deliver on but now probably won't! EVER!" and last week they credited my credit card for the shipping fees. Great! But still no coat. NOT THAT IT MATTERS ANYWAY, since it's going to be 71 degrees tomorrow. (The high is 67 today, in case you were wondering. And because I *know* you were wondering, people were also wearing coats, scarves, hats, and gloves this morning. Yes, REALLY. Ballhairs.)
I've used the $25 gift certificate because, hello? Free panties? OBVIOUSLY. And those arrived sometime last week. Soooo... where my coat be at, bitches?
Because I Am Catching Up at Work and Have a Ton to Do, Here Is My Niece In Her Halloween Costume
Hopefully that will satisfy y'all for a bit until I get a chance to rehash my week.(Also, a side story - Kari's parents watched her for a few days while we dealt with all of the funeral stuff. Now that she's in her terrible twos, she's getting a bit... sassy. At one point, she yelled at her papa for five minutes - in gibberish - and then said, "Papa, you're pissing me off!" Gee, I wonder where she gets it.)
Monday, October 22, 2007
Short Hiatus
Well peeps, I'm going to be in Michigan for the next week or so, and unless my parents miraculously acquired high speed internet, I won't be posting with any regularity for a bit.
"What do you mean, your parents still have dial-up?"
That's right! They do!
Actually, we had a rotary phone until I was in middle school, and after that, PULSE DIALING until sometime in high school. Basically, we had to get touch tone because the phone company required it.
Right, so I'll be checking in sporadically, but I'm going to be busy with family stuff. Take care, my bitches!
"What do you mean, your parents still have dial-up?"
That's right! They do!
Actually, we had a rotary phone until I was in middle school, and after that, PULSE DIALING until sometime in high school. Basically, we had to get touch tone because the phone company required it.
Right, so I'll be checking in sporadically, but I'm going to be busy with family stuff. Take care, my bitches!
Catch and Release
I've been listening to my Joshua Radin cd on repeat since watching this movie last night.
I didn't have the highest expectations for this film - I figured that it was just your typical rom-com. But I like Jennifer Garner. I think she's pretty and a pretty good actress. And she was great in Catch and Release.
The plot isn't difficult - Grey, a young almost-widow (Garner) starts a journey of self-discovery after her fiance, Grady, is killed just days before their wedding. As she attempts to get her life in order, she starts learning more and more about her husband-to-be, and she starts to wonder if she ever really knew him at all.
Their friends (Kevin Smith, Timothy Olyphant, and Sam Jaeger) deal with his death in their own quirky and somewhat devastating ways.
The friends lean on each other and ultimately help each other heal in many different ways. It's nice. And, like many rom-coms of the day, the soundtrack enhances each scene with light, sweet, and touching music.
Catch and Release is predictable, but rewarding.
I didn't have the highest expectations for this film - I figured that it was just your typical rom-com. But I like Jennifer Garner. I think she's pretty and a pretty good actress. And she was great in Catch and Release.
The plot isn't difficult - Grey, a young almost-widow (Garner) starts a journey of self-discovery after her fiance, Grady, is killed just days before their wedding. As she attempts to get her life in order, she starts learning more and more about her husband-to-be, and she starts to wonder if she ever really knew him at all.
Their friends (Kevin Smith, Timothy Olyphant, and Sam Jaeger) deal with his death in their own quirky and somewhat devastating ways.
The friends lean on each other and ultimately help each other heal in many different ways. It's nice. And, like many rom-coms of the day, the soundtrack enhances each scene with light, sweet, and touching music.
Catch and Release is predictable, but rewarding.
Success!
Look what came in the mail last week!
K-10 sent me the Multi-Tier Oven Rack from Sur La Table. She totally trumped me. I sent her The Sweetest Thing used from amazon.co.uk and she sent me kitchen stuff. She totally wins. The whore.
Also, a shoe rack!
And book rest.
It arrived in a box in which I could sleep comfortably. Actually, I think that it's about the same size as K-1o's London studio apartment.
All my whoring out for gifts has totally started to pay off. Speaking of, have y'all seen my amazon wish list?
K-10 sent me the Multi-Tier Oven Rack from Sur La Table. She totally trumped me. I sent her The Sweetest Thing used from amazon.co.uk and she sent me kitchen stuff. She totally wins. The whore.
Also, a shoe rack!And book rest.
It arrived in a box in which I could sleep comfortably. Actually, I think that it's about the same size as K-1o's London studio apartment.All my whoring out for gifts has totally started to pay off. Speaking of, have y'all seen my amazon wish list?
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Shenandoah in the Fall (or, "Poodle Parrot")
Jenny and I headed west on Saturday to do some hiking on Shenandoah's Whiteoak Canyon trail. At the entrance to the park, while waiting to pay the entrance fee, we spied this poodle parrot. Perched on the arm of a very burly man, we couldn't stop giggling.
Arrrr!
We parked at the Whiteoak Canyon lot, about 42 miles south into the park. The drive in was beautiful and the colors only intensified as we gained in altitude.
In the spring, the trail follows the main stream to the falls. But in the fall, and especially during a drought, the water level dipped. Still pretty!
Whiteoak Canyon Falls were gorgeous, especially when surrounded by the fall colors:
The round-trip hike of 4.6 miles was pretty easy, and because it was a pretty gradual trail, you could feel a good workout but didn't want to kill yourself just to avoid one more hill.
Shenandoah in the fall is simply amazing. It's about an hour from DC - if you can get out there in the next few weeks, I highly recommend this trail.
Arrrr!We parked at the Whiteoak Canyon lot, about 42 miles south into the park. The drive in was beautiful and the colors only intensified as we gained in altitude.
In the spring, the trail follows the main stream to the falls. But in the fall, and especially during a drought, the water level dipped. Still pretty!
Whiteoak Canyon Falls were gorgeous, especially when surrounded by the fall colors:
The round-trip hike of 4.6 miles was pretty easy, and because it was a pretty gradual trail, you could feel a good workout but didn't want to kill yourself just to avoid one more hill.Shenandoah in the fall is simply amazing. It's about an hour from DC - if you can get out there in the next few weeks, I highly recommend this trail.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Jenny's Birthday
***I am posting this ONLY as a lesson to all you young folks out there: Do not attempt to blog after a night of drinking. You're only hurting yourselves.***
Cue the squiggly lines and flashback music and let us return to... LAST NIGHT:
BASICALLY, old rooommie Jenny is a year oldddr, and I am too meny glasses of Blanc deep to make fun of her! Yay!
You see, I rhought thaT Ai WAS smart by not drinking the sanfria, but afteter dos glasses of chablis balnc or whatever, at ELLA'S, I learned that I am not exempt from the drujnkenness.
Happy Birhtdat Jenny!@ aND m,any happy returns! (I htknk that PIglet said that. Or Pooh.)
And much love to Ross and Kamasha for not making fun of the drunken HEather. Also, thanks to Chris at Ella's and our server at Zaytinya. Was awesome!
Oh and in case you were wondering, here is the pictuer evidence:
Tasted like peaches!
Jenny is NOT having a conversation with you right now.
Do not want.
My camera sucks.
Right, so this is as good a time as any to explain why drinking at Ella's is a BAD IDEA for me. I never seem to get drunk -- unless I go to Ella's. And I sure don't know that I'm drunk. Not until the next morning, at least.
See, though, we went to Ella's first for a quick drink and then had to slam our sangria in order to make our dinner reservations. But then at dinner we drank a LOT. And then we returned to Ella's. Which was... not the most intelligent choice.
I got home last night, attempted to post the above atrocity (apparently), and then promptly passed out at the foot of my bed. I woke up at 2:30 and thought that my brain was trying to BREAK THROUGH MY SKULL. Somehow, I got back to sleep. But my head is still pounding, even now.
Great, right?
Oh, but I have a better one! After a night at Ella's back in the springtime months, and round after round after round of sangria, I somehow got myself home. (Have I mentioned that this was also a Wednesday? Oh, it was.) I wasn't sick, but I distinctly remember trying to lie down in the bathroom. I pulled a towel off of the rack to serve as a pillow, and attempted sleep. Apparently I found the floor to be too chilly, and as I had stripped off most of my clothes by this point, I crawled into the hallway and slept there for a few hours. When I woke up - again, in the middle of the damn night - I had to really search my brain for an answer to "Why am I asleep in the fucking hallway?"
I know that these stories are nothing compared to, "And then I woke up in a dumpster in Connecticut," but they're pretty intense for me. Drinking is bad, mmmkay?
OMG, my head.
Cue the squiggly lines and flashback music and let us return to... LAST NIGHT:
BASICALLY, old rooommie Jenny is a year oldddr, and I am too meny glasses of Blanc deep to make fun of her! Yay!
You see, I rhought thaT Ai WAS smart by not drinking the sanfria, but afteter dos glasses of chablis balnc or whatever, at ELLA'S, I learned that I am not exempt from the drujnkenness.
Happy Birhtdat Jenny!@ aND m,any happy returns! (I htknk that PIglet said that. Or Pooh.)
And much love to Ross and Kamasha for not making fun of the drunken HEather. Also, thanks to Chris at Ella's and our server at Zaytinya. Was awesome!
Oh and in case you were wondering, here is the pictuer evidence:
Tasted like peaches!
Jenny is NOT having a conversation with you right now.
Do not want.
My camera sucks.Right, so this is as good a time as any to explain why drinking at Ella's is a BAD IDEA for me. I never seem to get drunk -- unless I go to Ella's. And I sure don't know that I'm drunk. Not until the next morning, at least.
See, though, we went to Ella's first for a quick drink and then had to slam our sangria in order to make our dinner reservations. But then at dinner we drank a LOT. And then we returned to Ella's. Which was... not the most intelligent choice.
I got home last night, attempted to post the above atrocity (apparently), and then promptly passed out at the foot of my bed. I woke up at 2:30 and thought that my brain was trying to BREAK THROUGH MY SKULL. Somehow, I got back to sleep. But my head is still pounding, even now.
Great, right?
Oh, but I have a better one! After a night at Ella's back in the springtime months, and round after round after round of sangria, I somehow got myself home. (Have I mentioned that this was also a Wednesday? Oh, it was.) I wasn't sick, but I distinctly remember trying to lie down in the bathroom. I pulled a towel off of the rack to serve as a pillow, and attempted sleep. Apparently I found the floor to be too chilly, and as I had stripped off most of my clothes by this point, I crawled into the hallway and slept there for a few hours. When I woke up - again, in the middle of the damn night - I had to really search my brain for an answer to "Why am I asleep in the fucking hallway?"
I know that these stories are nothing compared to, "And then I woke up in a dumpster in Connecticut," but they're pretty intense for me. Drinking is bad, mmmkay?
OMG, my head.
Sprickets?
(from www.mike-meyers.net)No, not Sprockets. But that would be awesome. Sprickets. Or spider-crickets. Thanks for the update/scare, WaPo. Jerks.
Right, and now I am piss scared that an army of those mutants will find their way into my BASEMENT APARTMENT. And so I am currently on amazon searching for an affordable dehumidifier.
DCist linked to the WaPo story and the comments are simply amazing. One commenter identified the things as "sprickets," which made me guffaw, and then another posted this:
"Until this drought ends, I'm going to keep a cyanide pill in the back of my mouth so if I ever walk into my house, and find fucking spider-crickets, I can bite down and just be done with it."
What would you do, though, if you had an army of Dieters jumping around in your basement? Touch my monkey!
Mornings
I wouldn't be going out on too long of a limb to assume that my having a morning routine is fairly normal, right? I mean, it doesn't make me OCD. Arranging my closet by color accomplishes that.
I have such a set routine - from the order that things happen in the shower to when I put on eyeshadow and when I dry my hair. It's a nice, smooth, efficient system and I can usually be out the door in about 35 minutes.
I would go through this fascinating routine for you, but I'm falling asleep just thinking about it, so I'll spare you. You're welcome!
Right, so mornings were rolling along quite nicely. And then Audrey entered the picture.
Audrey, you may recall, is my laptop. She's... a dream. I love her, but she is such a controlling bitch! I used to run to the living room to check the weather channel, but she insists that I refresh weather.com instead. And then she makes me check my email, then the news, and then all of a sudden, I'm playing Mahjong (and I am so good at Mahjong) and I should have been drying my hair already! What the crap!?
Dammit.
I have such a set routine - from the order that things happen in the shower to when I put on eyeshadow and when I dry my hair. It's a nice, smooth, efficient system and I can usually be out the door in about 35 minutes.
I would go through this fascinating routine for you, but I'm falling asleep just thinking about it, so I'll spare you. You're welcome!
Right, so mornings were rolling along quite nicely. And then Audrey entered the picture.
Audrey, you may recall, is my laptop. She's... a dream. I love her, but she is such a controlling bitch! I used to run to the living room to check the weather channel, but she insists that I refresh weather.com instead. And then she makes me check my email, then the news, and then all of a sudden, I'm playing Mahjong (and I am so good at Mahjong) and I should have been drying my hair already! What the crap!?
Dammit.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
A Recipe for HAPPY
My grandpa's not doing too well, so I've been a bit of a wreck. And yesterday was awful. My mom had been giving me updates for the past week, and I hadn't really spoken to my dad about the situation, even though it's his father. So when I talked to him yesterday, just to touch base, the mere sound of his voice resulted in my sobs.
He felt awful, of course, even though it was nowhere near his fault. All he said was, "Hi my honey," and I lost it. (I blame this.) I was a mess, but I was looking forward to hanging out with Merrick that night. She knew she what she would be dealing with, and she did not disappoint, let me tell you.
We grabbed dinner at Red Mei, shopped at Trader Joe's, and then headed south on route 1 for a surprise. I tried guessing, but she wasn't having it (I was right about the quick stop at Krispy Kreme. I was wrong about going to Walmart. Which was fine. She knows that I want no part of that).
And then, well... just look:
We flirted, but that mouse just did NOT give in.
This approach resulted in the ball being thrown back in her face.
My 55 tickets just narrowly beat her 48.
Look at our pretty rings!
I am so grateful to have such an amazing, loving friend in my life. Thank you, Merrick. I love you so much!
He felt awful, of course, even though it was nowhere near his fault. All he said was, "Hi my honey," and I lost it. (I blame this.) I was a mess, but I was looking forward to hanging out with Merrick that night. She knew she what she would be dealing with, and she did not disappoint, let me tell you.
We grabbed dinner at Red Mei, shopped at Trader Joe's, and then headed south on route 1 for a surprise. I tried guessing, but she wasn't having it (I was right about the quick stop at Krispy Kreme. I was wrong about going to Walmart. Which was fine. She knows that I want no part of that).
And then, well... just look:
We flirted, but that mouse just did NOT give in.
This approach resulted in the ball being thrown back in her face.
My 55 tickets just narrowly beat her 48.Look at our pretty rings!
I am so grateful to have such an amazing, loving friend in my life. Thank you, Merrick. I love you so much!
Monday, October 15, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Food Network Fanaticism
I love the Food Network. I don't watch much television, but on some weekends, the Food Network rules my life. (And if my roommate is watching tv, you can bet that it will be a channel showing a CSI or Law & Order marathon. Although she doesn't see the humor in David Caruso's overacting on CSI: Miami, I do. I love it. I wouldn't watch the damn show if I couldn't see Horatio Caine take his sunglasses on and off. It wouldn't be nearly entertaining, what with the murdered people and all.)
But this is about me! Me!!! And the Food Network.
I learned to cook early in life, watching The Lady in the kitchen. I've become quite experimental with my cooking (sometimes I'm naked!), now that I've been living on my own for almost ten years.
When I was in college, I made the same meals over and over again: spaghetti (with homemade sauce, though), meatloaf, um... cereal. Etc. You know, the simple stuff.
Watching the food network has changed that. Well, that and gaining a more refined palate, I'm guessing. Things that I wouldn't have touched a few years ago (asparagus!) are now staples in my kitchen. Sweets and preservatives are basically gone, though the homemade apple cinnamon muffins last weekend were totally worth the extra few miles of running.
I think that this is all possible because the Food Network has made cooking accessible. No longer do the tv chefs whip up meals that I could only get by going to a restaurant. And even if they do, they make it look easy. I would also argue that the popularity of these programs has increased the number of former hard-to-find items in our general grocery stores, though that's just my opinion.
But I love the Food Network and its many cooking personalities.
If I had to choose, I choose Nigella Lawson as my favorite. I actually mark my calendar to remind me that her show is only on at 10:30 Sunday mornings. She makes meals to satisfy, and she doesn't shy away from using butter or too much olive oil.
Because of the Food Network, Rachael Ray has become a reputable force of nature. A hurricane, if you will. She has more than a few shows that air on the channel, and her annoying phrases and terms ("EVOO," "Yum-o," etc. How about, shut UP?) have become household utterances. She annoys the ever-living crap out of me (and I'm far from the only one to feel this way), but I love her. I love her 30 Minute Meals and I love her charisma. It makes no sense. Of any Food Network chef, hers are the recipes that I cook the most.
The chef of Everyday Italian, Giada De Laurentiis, is pretty hot. And she cooks! I've made many of her recipes, and they are to die for. I've also learned that Italian cooking isn't all about pasta. Of course, I have to mention what my friend Jeff once said, "Never trust a thin Italian chef. Also, her head is huge." Make up your own mind there. Plus, on her show today, I spied a carton of Trader Joe's chicken stock in her fridge. So she rules. Love the TJ's!
I recently caught an airing of The Gourmet Next Door, starring the winner of The Next Food Network Star, Amy Finley, and I loved it! She made a gorgeous bistro meal and made it look easy. Pretty much all I'm asking for from these people.
Tyler Florence seems nice and accessible - like that guy who lived in your hall freshman year who would help you when your computer crashed but wouldn't come on to you. (Which was fine. I totally didn't have a crush on him, either, so it's fine that we never went out. I mean, not me, this girl. My roommate. Wait, what?). Like another chef on said network, he doesn't seem completely full of himself , and he makes amazing "ultimate" meals. While I sit and watch him cook, my mouth waters and everything, but I haven't been inspired enough to try any of his recipes. I'm sure I will soon, though.
Alton Brown is simply amazing. He's hilarious and entertaining and I learn fun facts while watching Good Eats. He made donuts the other day. Mmmm...
I could go through the list of chefs on the Food Network, but it would be all for nought. These are my favorites.
But this is about me! Me!!! And the Food Network.
I learned to cook early in life, watching The Lady in the kitchen. I've become quite experimental with my cooking (sometimes I'm naked!), now that I've been living on my own for almost ten years.
When I was in college, I made the same meals over and over again: spaghetti (with homemade sauce, though), meatloaf, um... cereal. Etc. You know, the simple stuff.
Watching the food network has changed that. Well, that and gaining a more refined palate, I'm guessing. Things that I wouldn't have touched a few years ago (asparagus!) are now staples in my kitchen. Sweets and preservatives are basically gone, though the homemade apple cinnamon muffins last weekend were totally worth the extra few miles of running.
I think that this is all possible because the Food Network has made cooking accessible. No longer do the tv chefs whip up meals that I could only get by going to a restaurant. And even if they do, they make it look easy. I would also argue that the popularity of these programs has increased the number of former hard-to-find items in our general grocery stores, though that's just my opinion.
But I love the Food Network and its many cooking personalities.
If I had to choose, I choose Nigella Lawson as my favorite. I actually mark my calendar to remind me that her show is only on at 10:30 Sunday mornings. She makes meals to satisfy, and she doesn't shy away from using butter or too much olive oil.
Because of the Food Network, Rachael Ray has become a reputable force of nature. A hurricane, if you will. She has more than a few shows that air on the channel, and her annoying phrases and terms ("EVOO," "Yum-o," etc. How about, shut UP?) have become household utterances. She annoys the ever-living crap out of me (and I'm far from the only one to feel this way), but I love her. I love her 30 Minute Meals and I love her charisma. It makes no sense. Of any Food Network chef, hers are the recipes that I cook the most.
The chef of Everyday Italian, Giada De Laurentiis, is pretty hot. And she cooks! I've made many of her recipes, and they are to die for. I've also learned that Italian cooking isn't all about pasta. Of course, I have to mention what my friend Jeff once said, "Never trust a thin Italian chef. Also, her head is huge." Make up your own mind there. Plus, on her show today, I spied a carton of Trader Joe's chicken stock in her fridge. So she rules. Love the TJ's!
I recently caught an airing of The Gourmet Next Door, starring the winner of The Next Food Network Star, Amy Finley, and I loved it! She made a gorgeous bistro meal and made it look easy. Pretty much all I'm asking for from these people.
Tyler Florence seems nice and accessible - like that guy who lived in your hall freshman year who would help you when your computer crashed but wouldn't come on to you. (Which was fine. I totally didn't have a crush on him, either, so it's fine that we never went out. I mean, not me, this girl. My roommate. Wait, what?). Like another chef on said network, he doesn't seem completely full of himself , and he makes amazing "ultimate" meals. While I sit and watch him cook, my mouth waters and everything, but I haven't been inspired enough to try any of his recipes. I'm sure I will soon, though.
Alton Brown is simply amazing. He's hilarious and entertaining and I learn fun facts while watching Good Eats. He made donuts the other day. Mmmm...
I could go through the list of chefs on the Food Network, but it would be all for nought. These are my favorites.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Madame Total Waste of Money's
In a town where image is everything and politicians are the real celebrities, it was only a matter of time before they were immortalized in wax.
Washington D.C. has got its very own Madame Tussaud's. Great. Completely necessary. Also completely necessary? The $25 admittance fee. TWENTY. FIVE. DOLLARS. To look at mannequins.
That's steep, even for this town.
Let me be perfectly clear: I would never pay the $25 fee to see a bunch of wax figurines, and it pains me to know that people WILL. I would pay $25 to enter The Louvre, maybe (in fact, I may have, for all I know. Stupid conversion rates!), you know - to see priceless works of art? Of course, being able to actually touch and even pose with tabloid fodder might seem pretty exciting in a town full of "Do Not Touch" and "No Photographs, Please" signs. So what do I know?
Now, you may have already scrolled down and saw some pictures. You might be saying, "Heather, you are such a GD hypocrite. You went to Madame Tussaud's. Don't lie. I SAW THE PICTURES."
Yes. I did go. For free. Thanks to being an employee at a rather large museum um... chain, here in town, I got to attend a free preview. I figured that free admission and an hour and a half away from work was worth dropping my museum-snob persona.
(And oh! Was it nice to be away from work!)
Right, so we entered the building at the group entrance and immediately started down several flights of stairs. Everything was very red.
Welcome to a strange reality!
The first figure I encountered was... well, before I read the label, I thought that it was Rodney Dangerfield in a military outfit. Not so! No, this is George III, the tyrant English king who loved to put taxes on tea and whatnot. Taxation without representation!
Wow, some things never change in this town.
Jefferson says, shake hands with a Founding Father!
FDR, looking uncomfortable.
Winston Churchill always looks so pissed off.
Maybe because he was forced out of office after WWII!
Oh right, you didn't come here for facts.
Sorry.
Mike relaxes with Julia Roberts.
She was thinner than my wrist, no joke.
(Seeing how thin these celebrities were was a little disconcerting.)
Gordon and J-Lo.
Bored and indifferent. Just like in real life!
Gordon refused to pose with Beyonce.
"They made her too thin."
Amazing.
"I'm not sure what four nines does,
but the ace, I think, is pretty high."
You're glib.
Also, I haven't aged well. Xenu?
All in all, it was a nice diversion, but it was just so... ridiculous. The labels were short and of little value, and once you bypassed the historical figures, the labels disappeared entirely. I think that this is Madonna. Not sure though!
I only got fooled once, by a figurine of an Asian tourist taking a photograph. It was hilarious, in a totally offensive kind of way. Nicely done, Madame Tussaud's! Stereotypes are fun for all ages!
And now you're thinking, "Jeez! Get off your high horse - it's not a museum!" You are correct, it's NOT a museum. It's a high-priced celebrity peep show. TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS. Would a family of four really drop $100 on twenty minutes of escapism? Lord, I hope not.
I'm thinking that the ones in London and NYC might be better. But definitely don't waste your time in D.C.
Instead, go to a museum! Like, I don't know... one of these, maybe. Free!
(All pictures from my all-inclusive tour can be found here. Save your money and click away.)
Washington D.C. has got its very own Madame Tussaud's. Great. Completely necessary. Also completely necessary? The $25 admittance fee. TWENTY. FIVE. DOLLARS. To look at mannequins.
That's steep, even for this town.
Let me be perfectly clear: I would never pay the $25 fee to see a bunch of wax figurines, and it pains me to know that people WILL. I would pay $25 to enter The Louvre, maybe (in fact, I may have, for all I know. Stupid conversion rates!), you know - to see priceless works of art? Of course, being able to actually touch and even pose with tabloid fodder might seem pretty exciting in a town full of "Do Not Touch" and "No Photographs, Please" signs. So what do I know?
Now, you may have already scrolled down and saw some pictures. You might be saying, "Heather, you are such a GD hypocrite. You went to Madame Tussaud's. Don't lie. I SAW THE PICTURES."
Yes. I did go. For free. Thanks to being an employee at a rather large museum um... chain, here in town, I got to attend a free preview. I figured that free admission and an hour and a half away from work was worth dropping my museum-snob persona.
(And oh! Was it nice to be away from work!)
Right, so we entered the building at the group entrance and immediately started down several flights of stairs. Everything was very red.
Welcome to a strange reality!
The first figure I encountered was... well, before I read the label, I thought that it was Rodney Dangerfield in a military outfit. Not so! No, this is George III, the tyrant English king who loved to put taxes on tea and whatnot. Taxation without representation!Wow, some things never change in this town.
Jefferson says, shake hands with a Founding Father!
FDR, looking uncomfortable.
Winston Churchill always looks so pissed off.Maybe because he was forced out of office after WWII!
Oh right, you didn't come here for facts.
Sorry.
Mike relaxes with Julia Roberts.She was thinner than my wrist, no joke.
(Seeing how thin these celebrities were was a little disconcerting.)
Gordon and J-Lo.
Bored and indifferent. Just like in real life!
Gordon refused to pose with Beyonce."They made her too thin."
Amazing.
"I'm not sure what four nines does,but the ace, I think, is pretty high."
You're glib.Also, I haven't aged well. Xenu?
All in all, it was a nice diversion, but it was just so... ridiculous. The labels were short and of little value, and once you bypassed the historical figures, the labels disappeared entirely. I think that this is Madonna. Not sure though!
I only got fooled once, by a figurine of an Asian tourist taking a photograph. It was hilarious, in a totally offensive kind of way. Nicely done, Madame Tussaud's! Stereotypes are fun for all ages!
And now you're thinking, "Jeez! Get off your high horse - it's not a museum!" You are correct, it's NOT a museum. It's a high-priced celebrity peep show. TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS. Would a family of four really drop $100 on twenty minutes of escapism? Lord, I hope not.
I'm thinking that the ones in London and NYC might be better. But definitely don't waste your time in D.C.
Instead, go to a museum! Like, I don't know... one of these, maybe. Free!
(All pictures from my all-inclusive tour can be found here. Save your money and click away.)
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Roker in a Bee Costume
Monday, October 08, 2007
TMI
I haven't done laundry in over three weeks. I'm finding panties that I didn't even know I owned, is what I'm saying.
Catalog Love
It's no secret that I love to cook, and when it comes to thinking about cooking, there isn't much that can get me more excited than a catalog. On Saturday, one of the most magnificent catalogs arrived: Sur La Table. Like the Ikea catalog before it, the Thanksgiving Sur La Table catalog is a slice of wonderful.
I know that there are many superfluous items available for wannabe chefs, and I try to avoid those. But there are many other things that would only enhance my kitchen. Of these three things, one is functional and the other two are superfluous. Can you guess which?
I know that there are many superfluous items available for wannabe chefs, and I try to avoid those. But there are many other things that would only enhance my kitchen. Of these three things, one is functional and the other two are superfluous. Can you guess which?
Multi-tier oven rack. This is just awesome. WANT.
Turkey tealights. Necessary!I've included links here for anyone who wants to buy me anything. You know, if you want.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Hello? Fall?
Saturday. Fall. Me. D.C. This usually this means one thing: A nice, crisp morning and an early visit to Eastern Market.
Well, at least one thing was spot on.
It was ninety degrees here yesterday. NINETY! And, um... it's October. Hello? Fall? Will you be arriving now, or in January? Inquiring minds would like to know. And plan their wardrobes accordingly.
Silly, oblivious monarch, thinking it's still August...
I loooooooove fall. Well, I love fall in the Midwest, actually, but fall here is... acceptable. I guess. You see, I love sweaters and crispness, the apple orchard and the pumpkin patch. I love the colors of the leaves and the smell in the air.
But here, I sweat on my walk to work, because it's 70-something degrees at 7:30 in the morning. Which is obnoxious. Forget about crispness - humidity is here to stay... through December! Seriously! There are a few apple orchards in the area, but I've found none with cider mills, and so what's the point? And pumpkin patches are generally nothing more than a table of pumpkins rather than a field ripe for the picking.
As for the leaves, they turn lovely shades of yellow... but little else. The smell in the air? Is humid a smell?
Yes, I know that I am complaining - and more than usual! But when it comes to my favorite season, and my current location isn't cutting it, I tend to get a little homesick.
Yesterday was fine, though. Eastern Market was in great shape - all of the fall things were in residence:
Neato gourds.
Happy sunflowers.
Squash/gourds that looked like geese. Weird!
And here I am posing next to the broccoli with my brand new bag! Thanks to Megan for the awesome tote! Also, aren't I super pretty in the morning? Heather no likey makeup in the early morning. And even though it doesn't look like it, I did shower. Pinky swear.
Well, at least one thing was spot on.
It was ninety degrees here yesterday. NINETY! And, um... it's October. Hello? Fall? Will you be arriving now, or in January? Inquiring minds would like to know. And plan their wardrobes accordingly.
Silly, oblivious monarch, thinking it's still August...I loooooooove fall. Well, I love fall in the Midwest, actually, but fall here is... acceptable. I guess. You see, I love sweaters and crispness, the apple orchard and the pumpkin patch. I love the colors of the leaves and the smell in the air.
But here, I sweat on my walk to work, because it's 70-something degrees at 7:30 in the morning. Which is obnoxious. Forget about crispness - humidity is here to stay... through December! Seriously! There are a few apple orchards in the area, but I've found none with cider mills, and so what's the point? And pumpkin patches are generally nothing more than a table of pumpkins rather than a field ripe for the picking.
As for the leaves, they turn lovely shades of yellow... but little else. The smell in the air? Is humid a smell?
Yes, I know that I am complaining - and more than usual! But when it comes to my favorite season, and my current location isn't cutting it, I tend to get a little homesick.
Yesterday was fine, though. Eastern Market was in great shape - all of the fall things were in residence:
Neato gourds.
Happy sunflowers.
Squash/gourds that looked like geese. Weird!
And here I am posing next to the broccoli with my brand new bag! Thanks to Megan for the awesome tote! Also, aren't I super pretty in the morning? Heather no likey makeup in the early morning. And even though it doesn't look like it, I did shower. Pinky swear.Thursday, October 04, 2007
Goodie
After skipping out on the dentist for three years (slut!), an approach of forgetfulness when it comes to flossing, and an unhealthy addiction to the delicious nectar that is Coca Cola Classic, I'm sure that you will all be very pleased to learn that I only had one cavity.
And a tiny one at that!
And then there was the one silver filling that had a big ass crack down the middle, but besides those two things, all was good.
And they yell at everyone for the complete lack of flossing, right?
So I get to go back next Wednesday for the filling and replacement filling, and all I'm thinking about is that I get to NOT be at work.
I should go to the dentist every week!
Why no scared, you ask? Well, I had orthodontic work from the time I was eight years old until I was twenty. TWENTY. I know pain, people, and fillings are not pain. They're barely even minor annoyances. I've even had a few fillings without the numbing stuff. Really!
And THEN?
A goodie bag. Woo!
Well, the dentist version of a goodie bag, but still. A toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and mouthwash. Score!
And then I went home to nap instead of going back to work. So a good day, basically.
And a tiny one at that!
And then there was the one silver filling that had a big ass crack down the middle, but besides those two things, all was good.
And they yell at everyone for the complete lack of flossing, right?
So I get to go back next Wednesday for the filling and replacement filling, and all I'm thinking about is that I get to NOT be at work.
I should go to the dentist every week!
Why no scared, you ask? Well, I had orthodontic work from the time I was eight years old until I was twenty. TWENTY. I know pain, people, and fillings are not pain. They're barely even minor annoyances. I've even had a few fillings without the numbing stuff. Really!
And THEN?
A goodie bag. Woo!
Well, the dentist version of a goodie bag, but still. A toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, and mouthwash. Score!
And then I went home to nap instead of going back to work. So a good day, basically.
Space Filler
I'm thinking that y'all are just as sick of seeing the previous post as I am, so I've been trying to come up with something to bump it down.
I'm fighting a losing battle here, my darlings.
I need to squeeze my mind grapes and come up with something palatable, but I don't think that's going to happen, so I'll just give you yet another reason to think that I am insane:
I... woke up yesterday morning and somehow - in my half-awake, half-asleep state of mind - decided that Wednesday was no longer "Hump Day" but instead "Bust Day." Bust Day? I "rationalized" that Bust Day meant that one must bust through the day and that meant, therefore, that I didn't have to go to work.
What?!!?!
I did go to work - I was showered, dressed, makeup-ed, and out the door in thirty minutes. I'm not really sure how this happened. Of course, once I arrived, it was all downhill and all kinds of curling up in the fetal position, so maybe I should have busted through.
And then this morning, I hit snooze for a good hour before getting out of bed at 7:30 - the time I usually leave for work. Got in, oh... an hour late.
Employee. Month. OF THE.
It's supposed to be 85 degrees today. In October. So that's retarded.
Oh, and I'm going to the dentist today. For the first time in THREE YEARS.
(Please don't give me too much crap about this lapse - my employer didn't give us dental insurance until this year, and let me just tell you - all y'all who think that working for the government is super great and good? NOT TRUE. No dental! Teeth fall out go boom!)
(Of course, I do have Monday off. Columbus Day. Sure. Because that should be a national holiday.)
(Must be clear: Not complaining about this.)
Did you know that you can be twenty-seven years old and still have lots of baby teeth? Oh, YOU CAN. And just maybe, those baby teeth have had silver fillings in them for YEARS and you have a lingering feeling that they are all going to have to be replaced?
And that maybe the new dentist is going to tell you that you are twenty-seven years old and maybe that retainer is looking a little worse for wear and that it's time to get oral surgery to get those false teeth implanted in your gums and...
...
I'm sorry. I just passed out.
Yeah, so that's all I got. Here's some pictures of my niece instead:
"If I smile super big can I please GET DOWN?"
And here's one where she looks less manic:
"Will one of you bitches come deal with this straw for me?
GD Capri Sun...
What does a girl have to do to get some help around here?"
I'm fighting a losing battle here, my darlings.
I need to squeeze my mind grapes and come up with something palatable, but I don't think that's going to happen, so I'll just give you yet another reason to think that I am insane:
I... woke up yesterday morning and somehow - in my half-awake, half-asleep state of mind - decided that Wednesday was no longer "Hump Day" but instead "Bust Day." Bust Day? I "rationalized" that Bust Day meant that one must bust through the day and that meant, therefore, that I didn't have to go to work.
What?!!?!
I did go to work - I was showered, dressed, makeup-ed, and out the door in thirty minutes. I'm not really sure how this happened. Of course, once I arrived, it was all downhill and all kinds of curling up in the fetal position, so maybe I should have busted through.
And then this morning, I hit snooze for a good hour before getting out of bed at 7:30 - the time I usually leave for work. Got in, oh... an hour late.
Employee. Month. OF THE.
It's supposed to be 85 degrees today. In October. So that's retarded.
Oh, and I'm going to the dentist today. For the first time in THREE YEARS.
(Please don't give me too much crap about this lapse - my employer didn't give us dental insurance until this year, and let me just tell you - all y'all who think that working for the government is super great and good? NOT TRUE. No dental! Teeth fall out go boom!)
(Of course, I do have Monday off. Columbus Day. Sure. Because that should be a national holiday.)
(Must be clear: Not complaining about this.)
Did you know that you can be twenty-seven years old and still have lots of baby teeth? Oh, YOU CAN. And just maybe, those baby teeth have had silver fillings in them for YEARS and you have a lingering feeling that they are all going to have to be replaced?
And that maybe the new dentist is going to tell you that you are twenty-seven years old and maybe that retainer is looking a little worse for wear and that it's time to get oral surgery to get those false teeth implanted in your gums and...
...
I'm sorry. I just passed out.
Yeah, so that's all I got. Here's some pictures of my niece instead:
"If I smile super big can I please GET DOWN?"And here's one where she looks less manic:
"Will one of you bitches come deal with this straw for me? GD Capri Sun...
What does a girl have to do to get some help around here?"
Monday, October 01, 2007
It Was Like a Gory, Nasty, Super Bad Horror Movie, But Grosser
Right, so I wasn't going to write about this, because while I'm crude sometimes, I rarely cross the line. That line being a line so disgusting that you'll have to take a shower after crossing said line.
But then, I thought, "It's a good story. It's super gross, but it's a good story. Why should I deprive people of a good story?"
Squeamish people had best do something else now. I know, go here! Pretty!
I am not kidding - you've been warned.
I've written about the bathroom at work, and at the time, I was being kind. I didn't tell you about what I saw on the stall door then, and I won't now (although, once this is over, it won't really matter. So maybe I will. Nothing will phase you then, trust me). I left out other details, other little stories because that line? So nasty! But from now on it's caution to the wind around here!
Like, the toilets are constantly backed up. Or that the water smells of sulphur so badly that I'm forced to rewash my hands in the sink in our kitchen. Or that the little receptacles in the stalls for women's, um... stuff, are rarely emptied.
Now that you've been properly introduced to the bathroom here, let's start this story with the fact that I drink a LOT of water. During a normal workday, I think that I head to the bathroom about six or seven times. Last Thursday, it was on, oh, trip number five that I unknowingly walked into something out of a horror movie.
As soon as I opened the bathroom door, the stench hit my nostrils. It was bad. It wasn't outhouse-bad (which isn't all that awful, in my opinion, just stale), oh no. It was as if something was trying to crawl up into my nose and rip it apart from the inside out. Explode!
So, it smelled the complete opposite of nice. Is what I'm saying.
I gingerly, very carefully, and very slowly peered around the corner into the first stall.
And, it was quite the assault on the senses.
Has anyone ever told you that a thought or sight made them "throw up in their mouth?" Well, it's not just an expression anymore. That's what happened.
There was, ahem, shit everywhere. EVERYWHERE. It was covering the back wall behind the toilet, it was piled (piled!) on the floor, and even the toilet paper dispenser was practically hidden from view.
I stared in disbelief for what must have been a few seconds, but it seemed like much, much longer. I think that I was trying to ascertain whether this had been an accident, or if someone had purposefully done this. Like art!
I hightailed it back to my office and immediately told the secretary about the situation. She didn't believe me, which was awesome. THANKS. I calmly walked into our director's office and saw that she was, unfortunately, eating lunch.
Heather: "Um, Cathi? Yeah, there's something not so good in the bathroom."
Cathi: "What did the damn bathroom do now?"
(Note: Cathi is awesome. She calls me "baby" and "boo" and I love it. I wish that she was my boss...)
Heather: "Well, you're eating."
Cathi: "Nah, nothing bothers me."
So I proceeded to tell her the situation and she was intrigued - she just had to see for herself. She was convinced that someone had just taken a "colon cleanse" and had a little "emergency."
Perhaps I hadn't explained it properly?
Either way, she was appalled. And really angry. The building manager got an earful.
What I'm guessing is that the pipe burst, but as I know absolutely nothing about plumbing, I'm not going to make an official declaration here. We have heard nothing from the building people, and I doubt we will. They kind of suck.
And as a side note: I briefly considered taking a picture, but I would never have been able to post it here. It was seriously horrific. You're just going to have to take my word on the matter.
Anyway. Gross!
Oh, and that other time? The back of the stall door was smeared with blood. The female kind of blood. You know what I'm saying.
My question is, how? How on earth did that get there? And why oh why oh why was it not cleaned up immediately?
Now that I think about it, maybe that is nastier that the shitsplosion. Oh well! Caution to the wind! Crude!
So, I haven't been back to the scene of the crime - I've been walking further down the hall to the other bathroom. Wuss!
***Update: Well, it seems that the pipes did NOT burst. It was as we'd all feared. Someone had a massive accident ("explosive" was the word used). And then high-tailed it out of there.
But then, I thought, "It's a good story. It's super gross, but it's a good story. Why should I deprive people of a good story?"
Squeamish people had best do something else now. I know, go here! Pretty!
I am not kidding - you've been warned.
I've written about the bathroom at work, and at the time, I was being kind. I didn't tell you about what I saw on the stall door then, and I won't now (although, once this is over, it won't really matter. So maybe I will. Nothing will phase you then, trust me). I left out other details, other little stories because that line? So nasty! But from now on it's caution to the wind around here!
Like, the toilets are constantly backed up. Or that the water smells of sulphur so badly that I'm forced to rewash my hands in the sink in our kitchen. Or that the little receptacles in the stalls for women's, um... stuff, are rarely emptied.
Now that you've been properly introduced to the bathroom here, let's start this story with the fact that I drink a LOT of water. During a normal workday, I think that I head to the bathroom about six or seven times. Last Thursday, it was on, oh, trip number five that I unknowingly walked into something out of a horror movie.
As soon as I opened the bathroom door, the stench hit my nostrils. It was bad. It wasn't outhouse-bad (which isn't all that awful, in my opinion, just stale), oh no. It was as if something was trying to crawl up into my nose and rip it apart from the inside out. Explode!
So, it smelled the complete opposite of nice. Is what I'm saying.
I gingerly, very carefully, and very slowly peered around the corner into the first stall.
And, it was quite the assault on the senses.
Has anyone ever told you that a thought or sight made them "throw up in their mouth?" Well, it's not just an expression anymore. That's what happened.
There was, ahem, shit everywhere. EVERYWHERE. It was covering the back wall behind the toilet, it was piled (piled!) on the floor, and even the toilet paper dispenser was practically hidden from view.
I stared in disbelief for what must have been a few seconds, but it seemed like much, much longer. I think that I was trying to ascertain whether this had been an accident, or if someone had purposefully done this. Like art!
I hightailed it back to my office and immediately told the secretary about the situation. She didn't believe me, which was awesome. THANKS. I calmly walked into our director's office and saw that she was, unfortunately, eating lunch.
Heather: "Um, Cathi? Yeah, there's something not so good in the bathroom."
Cathi: "What did the damn bathroom do now?"
(Note: Cathi is awesome. She calls me "baby" and "boo" and I love it. I wish that she was my boss...)
Heather: "Well, you're eating."
Cathi: "Nah, nothing bothers me."
So I proceeded to tell her the situation and she was intrigued - she just had to see for herself. She was convinced that someone had just taken a "colon cleanse" and had a little "emergency."
Perhaps I hadn't explained it properly?
Either way, she was appalled. And really angry. The building manager got an earful.
What I'm guessing is that the pipe burst, but as I know absolutely nothing about plumbing, I'm not going to make an official declaration here. We have heard nothing from the building people, and I doubt we will. They kind of suck.
And as a side note: I briefly considered taking a picture, but I would never have been able to post it here. It was seriously horrific. You're just going to have to take my word on the matter.
Anyway. Gross!
Oh, and that other time? The back of the stall door was smeared with blood. The female kind of blood. You know what I'm saying.
My question is, how? How on earth did that get there? And why oh why oh why was it not cleaned up immediately?
Now that I think about it, maybe that is nastier that the shitsplosion. Oh well! Caution to the wind! Crude!
So, I haven't been back to the scene of the crime - I've been walking further down the hall to the other bathroom. Wuss!
***Update: Well, it seems that the pipes did NOT burst. It was as we'd all feared. Someone had a massive accident ("explosive" was the word used). And then high-tailed it out of there.
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