That's what I call switcheroonie style.

Eleven months ago today, my sweet baby nephew was born. A few days later, my sister came home from the hospital with her lil' babe and an assortment of goodies packed away for her by the hospital.

Some of those things she needed - the diapers and wipes, the medicine for The Nephew's wee belly button, etc...but there were a few things they sent her with that she didn't need.

And her husband made sure to dispense with those items in the sneakiest, most underhanded ways possible.

Here's a for-instance for ya...the night they were all first home from the hospital, a bunch of us were over to celebrate the new family's homecoming. My sister was away nursing the wee one, and I was in the kitchen pouring myself a glass of wine - as I'm wont to do - when my brother in law called out to me:

Brother-In-Law: Hey there - is this a new bag?

Me: Yes! I got myself the hookup over at the Columbia Sportswear Employee Store. It's cool, right?

BiL: Yeah, I like it.

Me: I think it's supposed to be a tote bag, but I've got my wallet and everything in there. It's a great bag for going back and forth from work.

BiL: Uhhuhmmm...

Now, I should have been at least slightly concerned about this exchange, since my brother in law isn't really interested in things like tote bags unless they're constructed of leather and he's put them together himself with all his Ye Olde Worldery leatherworking supplies. But you see, I was all giddy on new aunthood and everything and couldn't be bothered to notice.

Sometime within the next few days, I had occasion to go searching for something in my fancypants new tote bag.

It so happened that I was at work at the time.

And since I was having a hard time finding what I was looking for, I started pulling things out of my bag and tossing them on my desk...and then I saw a smallish white disk in the bottom of my bag. I had no idea how the item had come to be in my bag, and as I pulled it out, there wasn't much I could do beyond look quizzically at this item, which made absolutely zero sense being in my bag.

It was a brand new container of Tucks Hemorrhoid Pads.

"What the...?!?," I thought, then "Ohhhh, that rat bastard."

So the brother in law thought he'd be slick and pass off some unnecessary hospital items to me, huh? "Oh, just wait," I thought, "I'll get him back."

Unfortunately, his birthday came and went last year and I didn't remember to wrap the Tucks up nice and give them to him as a super special birthday present.

But last week was my sister's birthday, and I didn't forget this time...

And you know what? I think she liked 'em! At least she's smiling, right?

Happy Birthday, Sweet Sister!

An assignment.

See these sushi minicakes? I need some.

Like, immediately.

photo via epicute

This? Might not work.

A few months ago, I attended one of those at-home sales party things at my new neighbor's house. She was hawkin' something called Scentsy, which I thought had a rick-diculous name, but wanted to check out. These Scentsy things are scented wax warmers that plug into the wall and heat wax using a small appliance light bulb.

I've always loved burning candles, but Jay is not at all a fan. He doesn't like the soot that collects on the walls and ceilings, and he's always worried I'll forget to blow one out - and I've gotta be honest here - he's got a point. Because, uhhh...yeah, that's happened before.

And given the fact that the house directly behind our next door neighbor is sitting vacant because of a recent fire (disgruntled roommate kicked in the door and set that betch on FIRE - nice, huh?), Jay's a big ol' fan of putting safety first on the candle front.

So I ordered myself one of the warmers and some of the bazillion scents the company offers. My selections included Enchanted Mist, which has some apple and jasmine notes, Green Tea Smoothie (delicious!) And White Tea and Cactus. As of last night, we'd tried the first two for a few weeks and liked 'em very well. I was curious about this White Tea and Cactus biz, so I swapped out the scents and waited for the wax to melt and scent the air.

I was over at the desk, sorting out our new wireless router via a phone call to my new best friend Vijay in India, when Jay said "What the hell is that scent you put in the warmer?"

"White Tea and Cactus," I replied.

Jay said, "Well it smells like a cat pissed on a light bulb."

Umm...grosssssssss.

I switched back to Enchanted Mist with a quickness. As I'm sure you would, too.

Amiright?

Damn, that's ewwwy.

Thanks to my handy dandy Lonely Planet February e-newsletter, the Eat Something Ewwwy Challenge is back in my head. I feel like I did a pretty good job last year at pushing myself beyond my dietary boundaries, but I didn't quite manage to eat something nasty each month as I'd planned.

So maybe I'll pick it up again for 2010. In fact, I've already gotten one item down - spit-grilled chicken heart! And it was gross. Not as bad as the fried pork skin I had last year, but it was pretty close. The texture of that heart was un-plea-sant. Ugh.

So the Lonely Planet newsletter provided me with some great ideas for this year's continuing challenge...

Mmmm...crispy scorpions! Sign me up!

Giant-ass grubs? Uhhhh...I don't know if I can hang.

Pigfaces? I pass.




According to Lonely Planet, this stuff is chicha, a fermented beverage made from corn, cassava or fruit. It's chewed to break down the starches in the material, which means there is a significant amount of human spittle in this drink. HOLY JEBUS that is disgusting.

What in the hell? Are those...are those what I think they are? Are those testicles? And the red things...those are veins or something?

Oh god. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

Becoming Jon Hamm.

Most of you ought to know the name Don Draper by now. The show Mad Men has been everywhere for the last couple of years, even winning a Golden Globe just a few weeks back. The show features the world of advertising in the 60s, filled with cocktails, cigarette smoke and (ironic? maybe) misogyny.

Actually, I don't know anything about the show. I've never seen it because I declared jihad on cable television programming in my house sometime before figuring out where exactly AMC fell on the channel lineup.

Whatever. I read about it.

Okay?

Anyway, I know who Don Draper is. He's played by this one square-jawed fella named Jon Hamm. So there.

He's this guy:

Scotch, scotch, scotch, I love scotch.

Many people find him very attractive.

Moving right along...I'd imagine fewer of you probably know about Galatea George, but lemme be straight with you - she entertains the hell outta me. She's not blogging as frequently these days (like that doesn't sound familiar, eh, pally-o types?), and to make up for it, she recently provided a guest post from her homie Rupert.

And in his quite hilarious guest post, Rupert described his various new year's resolutions (Item 1 - Make a list of resolutions, so when you've completed the list, you can immediately check one item off the list! Win-win!). But it was Item 4 on Rupert's list that truly caught my eye, reprinted here for your reading pleasure:

4. Become Jon Hamm

'Mancrush' would certainly be the word to describe my feelings toward award-winning actor Jon Hamm, if there was a word to describe my feelings toward award-winning actor Jon Hamm, but there isn't such a word. The feelings that I have toward Jon Hamm are complex, strange, and confusing to say the least. I'll attempt to sum them up (I've bullet pointed the following short list to make it seem manlier):

- I would like to go on an adventure with Jon Hamm, where we fight enemies together and fire crossbows and somebody saves somebody else from a deadly fall by grabbing their arm at the last second and screams "don't you let go!" and maybe there's a castle at some point.

- In another scenario, I'd like to walk through a busy casino with Jon Hamm in slow-motion. There would be a sense of urgency in this walk; we're not rushing, but we definitely have places to be. And we're wearing really nice suits.

- I'd also like to relive the events of the movie Space Camp with Jon Hamm, but in real life.

The post goes on a bit about how Rupert wants to Single White Female up Jon Hamm and be the Corey Feldman to his Michael Jackson, which is all just about awesome. Now, I'd wager that having a violent adventure, strolling in fine suitery and blasting off into outer space with Jon Hamm aren't likely to happen. But at least this guy's got goals, right?

Which brings me to my 2010 resolutions...and I'm slackin', folks. I haven't written 'em down yet, and we're one month into the new year already! Embarrassing.

So here's my first crack at the list of 2010 resolutions:

1. Make a list of resolutions (zing!)

2. Pat self on the back for making it through (mostly) Sober January.

3. Get thee to the multiplex for Oscar prep movie-watchin'.

4. Seriously reconsider recent thoughts about expanding the 2009 Eat Something Ewwwy Challenge into 2010. Wasn't one year enough? (but I did have that chicken heart at dinner last night...)

5. Play more Boggle (so as to not embarrass self at future family game nights).

6. Take a relaxing vacation with mah mans, one that doesn't require a ton of driving or sleeping outside in single-digit temperatures (since that's soooo not his fave).

7. Get back on the bloggin' horse.

8. Become Jon Hamm.*

*just jokes! I'd way rather become Christina Hendricks. Cuz she's va-va-va-voom!

Kinda sorta the EXACT OPPOSITE of what I wanted.

Welcome to the end of one of the most pain-in-the-ass weeks of my life. Last week, I saw a naturopath for the first time. Say what you will about naturopaths, but I figure it's worth a shot. I've been dealing with migraines for the past few years, and all the drugs that my doc's been giving me haven't helped one bit. And I'm lookin' for options, people.


So I went to this naturopath, and he tells me that my headbone's connected to my stomachbone, and if my stomachbone ain't happy about somethin', then my headbone just might be letting me know about it. So anywayz, he suggested maybe cutting out some stuff in a detox-y like way to see whether I feel any better. And if, after a few weeks I do notice a difference, then I can add one thing back at a time to see whether I have a clear sensitivity to something.


Now, I'm not one for depriving myself of things, so cutting anything out of my diet didn't sound like a super fun dealio. But if it meant no stomachbone and headbone probs? Sign me the hell up.


With a quickness, like.


So since last Tuesday, I've been off gluten, dairy products and alcohol. Well, there was a bit of a stumble during the Haiti benefit dinner I attended last Thursday (benefiting the Mangrove Fund - donate now!) but that slice of cornbread, the few bites of chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream, not to mention the two delicious Ginger Drop cocktails were TOTALLY FRIGGIN' WORTH IT!


It hasn't been too awful, really. There's all kinds of gluten-free products available at the local New Seasons Market, and it's not too terribly difficult to throw together stuff I can eat. But as my mom said this morning "Oh, you're gonna have to learn how to COOK!" Okay, look - I know how to cook, but it's certainly not my favorite thing ever. And I'm a big fan of shortcuts, but shortcuts - I am now aware - typically contain the dreaded gluten. So I can't be a lazyass about food prep anymore. This, again, is something I can deal with if it means no headaches.


But I do miss my bread products somethin' fierce. And sometimes sweet things.


SOMETIMES LIKE TODAY. RIGHT NOW. NOWWWWWWWW.


So I asked Jason if he could pick up a couple items at the store today on his way home. I wanted to make Renee's delishy-lish Ina Garten Peanut Butter and Jelly Bars, so I needed some gluten-free flour, some peanut butter and baking powder.


He came home with this:

And then this happened...

Me: Soooo...this is gluten flour.

Jay: Right.

M: It says "Vital Wheat Gluten Flour."

J: Yeah, I know - that's what you wanted me to get. It's what you texted me.

M: No it's not. I asked you to get GLUTEN-FREE flour.

J: Isn't that what I bought?

M: Nope, this is like entirely gluten. It's like 100% gluten.

J: So that's pretty much the total opposite of what you wanted then, right?

M: Uhh, yeah.

J: Oh, whoops. Sorry. [returns to his solitaire game]

And therefore, I am having a peanut butter and jelly bar-free evening. And I'm not at all happy about it. Sure, I can make them tomorrow. But I wanted them tonight.

Stupid detox-y deprivation diet.

But on the plus side, no headaches since Thursday! So that's kinda badass.

More sharesies

A while back, I was introduced to Epicute: The Cute Food Blog. It's pretty much adorable. The site features all kinds of delicious little goodies, food-styled like a sumbetch.


I myself don't go in for the creation of cute foodstuffs. I don't see the point in spending all that time making something all adorable - I mean, especially if you're gonna just NOM NOM NOM it with a quickness.


But this stuff is just crazy.

I mean, they're so cute, how can you eat these lil' teeny tiger faces?

They are ador-uh-bull...

Crown cupcakes! Hurrah!

Peeps!

Some sharesies for you

Go check out Sleep Talkin' Man. Like, immediately.

I started off this Wednesday morning hating everyone and everything, but then I visited this site, written by a woman who records her husband's sleeptalkin' episodes and then blogs about them the next day. As someone who has her very own Sleep Talkin' Man at home, I can fully appreciate such hilariosity as:

- "My badger's gonna unleash hell on your ass. Badgertastic!"

- "No, not the cats. Don't trust them. Their eyes. Their eyes. They know too much."

- "Hey, don't... don't say anything. Why don't you put it in an email, then I can ignore it at my pleasure."


Thank jebus for the mood-enhancing powers of the innerwebs. I thought I'd have to spend some quality time with the Lolcats, but just a few posts in on Sleep Walkin' Man had me smiling from ear to ear.