More fun than Mayonnaise... or at least equally fun... OK, it's less fun, but you're still reading...
More fun than Mayonnaise... or at least equally fun... OK, it's less fun, but you're still reading...
Made cupcakes that looked like spiders. (Pictures tomorrow.) My roommate has NEVER baked ANYTHING in his life. Is this normal? It really took me by surprise. I just assumed it was normal for a single male in his 20's to bake spider cupcakes for Halloween. Never even a boxed brownie mix?!! Sheeesh.
Depressed that I lost my blue pen and finger nail clipper. I've been relying on my backup purple pen, but it isn't the same. Watched the Suze Orman show on Sat and she also lost her pen... talked about it for a couple minutes. Nice to know others are as obsessive about pens as I am. I hate switching pens before a test because the old pen had learned with me.
My friend interrupted a meeting yesterday to answer a strange "612" number on his cell phone.... only to get a telemarker from the cell company pushing new "txt msg-ing" packages. Later that night, we used a different phone, called Tony back at his strange "612" number and then hung up when he answered. It's the little things in life.
Earlier today I tested my "verbal cowboy" skills.... I was able to keep a hardened-anti-phone-er on the tele' for 10 min and 41 sec.... pretty close to a wor'd record...
A third friend kept calling my home phone when his cell would cut out. Every time, I waited for the answering machine to answer before I would pick up. I know how much he hates its chorus...
Believe it or not, Steve isn't at home...
My life has been busy in the not-blogged-about-nether-regions, which is why the content hasn't been as free flowing as it once did. This blog recently hasn't been deserving of the "milk and honey" moniker it once received.
My peanut butter cup would not disengage from the wrapper. Drastic freezing methods had to be taken.... it turns out the peanut butter missed the center of the wrapper and the right third of the cup was solid chocolate.
"I like a simpul life"I oft' write about Danny K, the dentist who works in the Political Science main office. Today I drew a picture of him BY MEMORY.... The resemblence is striking. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so hasty to drop out of the police sketching program.
Hey Reginald, your laundry is ready.
and other spooky stories from Steve's BRAIN
My white laundry was totally sitting in the dryer for 2 days waiting to be folded. So roomie threw it on my chair, where it sat another 2 days waiting to be folded. I ran into a sheep waiting to be folded and then decided to was time to fold everything. I open the dryer door to TUMBLE PRESS my wrinkly, writhery whites..... only to find Nathan's whites sitting in the dryer.
MANy dream clippets the last few nights. Waking up a lot. Dreaming a lot. Eating a lot of cabbage. Getting tatoos. Running Marathons.
Pre-emptive retraction: I was bored with this entry before anyone really got a chance to read it. Only read if you need to waste time:
I was exiting a UMN Campus bus and getting onto a crowded, yellow school bus (standing room only)*. I was very loquacious... joking with the other riders.... and very excited because I was wearing my new T-shirt (that said something strange like "I buy taxes")**. A political science professor with chronic computer problems was the bus driver and he was having problems synching his cell-phone to the radio frequency the buses communicate on.***
* I sometimes switch UMN buses mid-route if I think a different one will provide a more comfortable ride.
** I'm still looking at Target shirts that say, "I make things up."
*** Yes, this is the end. Sorry there is no drama.
Dear Fox,
Your line-up currently features a Thursday night show about young, hip, attractive friends hooking up and hanging out in Orange County. However, I (and many of my 18-26 year old male friends) are unable to relate to their popular, flirtatious lifestyle. Might I be so bold as to suggest keeping the show's name and time, but changing the plot so that it follows the life and times of friends who have come together through Obsessive Compulsive tendencies. Imagine the drama of counting poppy seeds, aligning pillow cushions or washing your hands repeatedly. The best part of my proposal is that you would be able to save money on filming since OC youth are creatures of habit.... allowing you to stretch the same footage over many episodes.
Sincerely,
GenerationBob
Before you continue, what's your favorite snack food: Pretzels, Cheese curls, Potato(e) chips, Tortilla chips or Beef jerky?
I tried a new (?) Halloween Ice-cream flavor last night: COOKIES AND SCREAM.... aaaaaaaaAAAAAH... The oreos were hard and compressed!! Was Kemps so worried about oreal-disintegration that they mixed in 2 parts concrete? I am saddened, but will eat the rest of the carton.... tonight....
The ice-cream lead me to Alan Hirsch's research (last paragraph) and even more research (all paragraphs) that your personality correlates to your favorite ice-cream flavors.... thus, ice-cream can be accurately used to match compatible people. At last! I finally have a mechanism to understand women!
Anyone who's tried it knows that icecream psychology pretty quickly melts into a more general junk food fascination... hence, the opening question....
• Pretzels: you're a flirt, lively and energetic.
• Cheese curls: you maintain a high moral ground.
• Potato(e) chips: you're aggressive, a real go-getter, don't take "no" for an answer.
• Tortilla chips: you're a perfectionist. You need an A+, not an A.
• Beef jerky: you're outgoing and gregarious.
Well???
P.S. I like Cheese curls and DESPISE Pretzels. When forced to choose, I pick Tortillas over Potato(e)s 9 times out of 10. The personality seems to match up for me. Chalk one up for science.
Please amuse yourself with the "the premier online repository for pictures of dogs in bee costumes". (I think we finally know what UnderBlog has been doing with his spare time....)
My place as the dominant Steve at work is being called into question by a spryer, smarter, faster Steve a half decade younger than me. I may be able to hold him off for a while, but he cooks, is funny, rather strange and people seem to genuinely like him.
On one hand, I feel the masculinity I never had is being called into question by this self-taught ribbon dancer. But on the other, it’s nice to see all the improvements that were made with the next generation of Steves.
The first, of what will surely become many trials, was a race to create the best elegy for Bob(bi) III, a fish. I leave you with my entry:
To everyone within herring distance:
I write this, not for the halibut,
But to honor a great fish,
A fish who lived a porpoise-driven life,
Walleye floundered in the dark.
A fish who taught me the social moray
Of being less shellfish and thinking of otters.
May Cod have mercy on your sole.
The other night I was standing on a "hip" street corner talking with a new friend. Suddenly, a shiny SUV pulled up, parked in the cross walk and the driver approached us. He had nice, middle-class clothing: non-hole-y jeans and a solid-colour shirt sans collar. He told us his car is on fumes, he forgot his wallet and needs to make it home to Eden Prairie. Could we spare a few dollars?
I looked at my new friend and she (despite her lack of employment) is looking at her wallet, so I felt obligated to look in mine. I didn't want to help (because I have been approached by others trying to make it to Eden Prairie... aka the end of the world...) but I didn't want to appear super-thrifty in front of my new, generous, caring friend. Particularly since this guy (unlike the others) actually had a car to fill with gas.
He ended up getting about $6 from us, asked for our address to return the money (which we denied him), said "God Bless" (a trite line which reeks of compulsive panhandling). With that, he sped off... probably to buy drugs.
Walking back to my car, I wondered why I didn't ask to see his gas gauge. If he would have killed us if we got too close to his car.... why I succame to the pier pressure of donating.... what really happened with the money… what he would have done if we refused him (drove off, or continued looking for help).... what I would have done with those extra dollars... and why I hadn't brought mittens.
It turns out my friend ran out of gas last week, so she felt really bad for him. But we both decided to never fall for that line again.
Naaaaaaaah, Hello? I am N. Erving and I guess I can answer any questions you might be having. My friend slash (/) mentor, Pickie, is on temporary leave so I am filling in for the mean time. I am most familiar with computers, science fiction and nervous twitches, but I can try to tackle some of your tougher relationship issues... not only have I been to first base with a real girl (and further with my pillow), but I am quite familiar, if I do say so myself, with the OC and Sex in the City (when my parents aren't home on a Friday night... shhhhhh..... don't tell.... no, seriously, don't tell.... please....)
N. Erving. Transmission Complete.
Worst:
Last night I learned that many marathon runners finish the race with bleeding nipples from the friction of their shirt. Somehow, running just lost all of its glamour.
Best:
I had a fibrovascular-free banana WITH SPRINKLES today. Each colored sprinkle made me smile because it was made with real chocolate from Holland.
Food Recommendation:
Chipotle Tabasco Sauce. Same fire-eee kick of 'basco with a rich, smokey aroma that tastes like kissing grandma. Great for Fajitas, Spanish Rice or mixing in with your roommate's toothpaste.
A weekend, devoid of satisfaction and all reasonable facsimiles thereof: