I Am Not In This 99%...Stop Speaking For Me

While I don't fully subscribe to the "I am 53%" movement (clearly you still pay taxes even if not in the form of a federal income tax), I certainly abhor being lumped into this 99% business.  These people defecate on police cars.  These are not my people.  I found this dog photo on the "I am 53% Tumbler" and thought it was too cute to share. 

It's the Most Wonderful Tiiiiiiime of the Year!

 This about sums up how I feel about the Saints versus the Packers tomorrow night.  AND college football on Saturday.  AND all day Sunday.  AND again Monday night.  My football viewing is really going to conflict with my Monday night yoga class....  How many people utter that phrase?

 You see, I love college football, yes, but mostly I like to watch Texas play and then any other team that's a major contender for the national championship against Texas.  Since (let's be real) we just clawed our way back into the top 25 rankings, that's not going to be happening this year, I've gotten into the NFL.

That's right folks, fantasy football.  And I'm forcing the hubs to do it for the first year ever.  We are like the real life Jenny and Kevin from The League.  Except I think in this scenario I'm Kevin and he's Jenny, though he does NOT run my team.

Also, The League starts in October.  Even if you think Fantasy Football is the geekiest thing on the planet and you know nothing about it, I promise, you'll still like this show.

So let's go Vick in a Box (my team name).  And yes I drafted Michael Vick.  And yes my dogs audibly booed me when I did that.  And no I'm not sorry, because mamma's gonna buy them lots of kibble with all the money she's going to win when she takes first in her league.  Just sayin'.

I Blame My Lack Of Blogging on the Heat

So we've switched to radio silence on this blog lately.  There are a number of factors at play here, but I think the main one is I cannot...freaking handle....the heat ANYMORE!  I've been off doing all sorts of things, like girls weekends in New Orleans or family beach weekends at Port Aransas.  Things that would make fabulous blog fodder.  But I don't think I've taken a single photo this summer, mostly because I'm quasi paralyzed by the triple digit heat which we are on track for reaching the 70 consecutive day mark this week. 

I AM SO DONE WITH YOU WEATHER!  I've pushed through all summer, found ways to beat the heat like gardening in the shade, sipping lemonade, jumping into Barton Springs 4th of July weekend, but I'm officially tapped out.  I tried to hike 3 miles yesterday morning and nearly barfed 3 times.  Ginger was huddled under the park bench panting and I thought I was going to have to carry her back to the car (but then I started to wonder who would carry ME back to the car).  Then I spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch watching the Back to the Future trilogy while trying to replenish the electrolytes in my system. 

I no longer want to cook because it makes my house too hot.  I used to enjoy smoking meat on the grill but can't stand the thought of smokey meats in this heat, and frankly I don't even want to eat because I'm too busy sweating.  I have quit doing things on the weekend because I can't stand leaving my house to go places in this weather.  So until September rolls around, I'll be huddled on my couch in the cool air conditioning until further notice....

Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

Ferris Bueller said it best. I owe you guys the recap of the last 3 days of our Italy trip but here's a brief summary of what's been going on in my life lately.

• I've taken to going to boot camp with my dog Ginger. She gets so tuckered out!
  


• I'm learning to smoke meats. So far I've smoked 2 racks of ribs, a chicken, and a half a pound of almonds. I'm getting better each time, but on Sundays until further notice, my hair pretty much smells like mesquite.



• I spearheaded my company preparing a meal at the local Ronald McDonald House. I've also been doing other fundraisers at the office. I made Pioneer Woman's Cinnamon Rolls for the fundraiser. And they were glorious.

• I had a fabulous bachelorette party weekend with bride to be Lyra. We had a nightcap at the W hotel and probably narrowly missed being crushed by falling plates of glass.




• Ginger killed a possum in the back yard. Here she is, quarantined in the bathtub while we bathe possum off her. I found her with it in the yard, screamed my head off at 11:30 PM for Darryl, who had to put the poor creature out of its misery while I checked Ginger all over for broken skin or possum rabies (she was fine).

Basically, I've been enjoying my summer and living life to the fullest! Hopefully I'll slowdown a bit and take some photos of my happenings for the blog!

Teenage Dream by OPI

I got a pedicure today and got the Katy Perry inspired OPI "Teenage Dream" put on my tootsies.  I have lots of meetings this week, one of which, is with my client at their HQ.  And I'm not even in a funky artsy field, I'm a geologist.  Yes, that's right, I'm showing up at a client meeting with a pink glitter pedicure.  Life is short people.  Not. even. sorry. 

Note:  These are not my nails, I bite mine and they never look this fab, but I thought I'd spare you a look at my pasty, mosquito bitten feet.  So you'll have to use your imagination...

Abs for Summer

So I've been doing a lot of situps lately, not sure if it'll make much of a difference since I'm not doing much cardio with it, but still, strengthening my core.  Summer's right around the corner and if it gives me a flatter tummy or less love handles (oh lord, love handles are so my nemisis) for swimsuit season, I'm not going to mind at all. The other day I realized I'm super picky about lady abs, is that weird?  They can't be too skinny or too muscular.  I hate seeing all the skelators with concave stomachs and weird belly buttons running in their sports bras on Town Lake.  I mean, good for them, they are slim, but I wouldn't want my body to look that boyish.  Then there's the other extreme, ladies with a visible 6 pack.  Or 4 pack.  Or 2 pack.  I want a no pack.

These are too boyish, and I can see visible definition of the muscles.  She looks like her belly button can touch her spine.  No thanks.

These are WAY too masculine for my tastes.  If you can rock these, great for you, it's hard to get this way, it requires a lot of hard work which is admirable.  But it's just not how I'd want my abs to look if I could.  And I admit, i probably can't....

These are just right.  They almost have a little roundness in the middle but not a pooch.  It's womanly and sexy.  Something to work towards, yeah?   

I Want to Give Everyone Involved in the Making of this Commercial a Giant Wedgie

Maybe I'm biased because I don't particularly like cats, but this Fancy Feast commercial is one of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen.  I was eating when it came on and I nearly vomited in the scene where she reads the kitten's tag and may have yelled at the TV that a cat is not an appropriate vehicle for a marriage proposal.  I want to fine everyone associated in the making of this and give them a big giant wedgie (except for the kitten, I only tolerate felines in the kitten form).  Note that if the shoe was on the other foot and it was an adorable cairn terrier I would be sending this to all my friends squealing "OMG LOOK AT THE CUTE PUPPY COMMERCIAL, BEST COMMERCIAL EV-ER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" 

I'm a hypocrite, I know.  What of it.

Kelly and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

This past week I had a rotten day.  The ins and outs of what I found so disturbing are neither here nor there.  But what I thought was interesting was my method of coping:

• Came home, stripped off work clothes, put on big fuzzy pink bathrobe.
• Husband came home, told him about my day, cried, mascara full on running down my face.
• Lots of sympathetic hugs and snuggles from him and the pups.
• Ate leftovers in lieu of cooking dinner as planned, put on my running shoes and headed down to Town Lake.
• Upon getting out of my car a man came up to me and asked me to use his cell phone.  He'd somehow managed to lock his keys, cell phone, and wallet in his trunk and his alarm kept going off.  Assessed that his story was probably legit and that he was not an axe murder or phone stealer (I have an iPhone 3G anyways, if it got jacked, good excuse to get the next model right?) and he was in fact having a worse day than me.  I took pity on him, let him use my phone and wished him luck.
• Ran 3 miles while watching the sun set on the beautiful Austin downtown skyline.  God I love Austin.
• Might have inadvertently gotten into a foot race with an old man.  He kept running next to me, changing his pace to match mine.  So I sprinted up a hill and he totally did too?!  What.  The.  Heck?  By that point I was out of breath and stopped to walk, he ran 10 more paces, turned around and looked at me, and stopped and walked confirming my suspicion that it was TOTALLY INTENTIONAL.  And also I got my butt kicked in a race by some old dude. Was more amused than anything by this. 
• Totally sweated out all my anger/angst.
• Came home, played with the pups more, knocked out some stuff for work and responded to some of my blog comments, at which point my hubs came home from hanging out with friends.
• As I was responding to the comments, I guess I was smiling really big (love you guys that actually read this thing!) and he said "What are you smiling at?" and I responded, "Does it matter, I'm actually smiling!", he responded "yeah, it looks good on you".  Love him so much, what a stellar ending to a less than ideal day!

Reasons Why I'm Loving Spring!

It's crawfish season!  Crawfish and beer are my favorite meal.

Parties with friends, now people are coming out of their winter cocoons and being social.

Our anniversary trip to Italy!

Tending my spring garden.

Also looking forward to bare legs and bare sholders, bluebonnets, warm (but not too hot) nights, weddings, and hanging out by the pool!

MIA

Ooof.  This is a busy time of the year for me for work.  This weekend, I'm presenting for the second year in a row in front of many of my colleague's at my company's technical seminar in Denver.  And that's not all.  Long hours late at night on the work laptop for work deliverables, field work, etc.  So let's just hit the high points of the last 7 days, shall we?  Perhaps more explanation is in order for some of these bullet items, you tell me.  In the last 7 days I have:

• Eaten at the City Market in Luling.  Ate about a pound of BBQ 2 days in a row.  Coworker had to slap my hand away from me grabbing at a bag of peanut brittle and might have exclaimed "you just ate a pound of meat, stop!".
• Consumed laxative tea.  See item above, one pound of meat, 2 days in a row.  Holy hell. 
• Worked in the field for 2 days.  I got tired of carrying things around and it was raining, so I just started stuffing my equipment into my reflective safety vest as I walked around the site.  Might have pretended I was pregnant.  In the oil fields.  With an H2S meter also strapped to my vest.  You know where pregnant ladies belong?  Standing over a poisonous gas line in an oil field.  I wish someone had driven by....
• Got dirty looks from the Luling locals as I waltzed around their town in camo snake chaps and a Louis Vuitton purse.  I will because I can, bitches. 
• Was assured by friends that "Scotch doesn't really give you a hangover."
• Attended a friend's wedding shower.  With a Scotch hangover.  Assholes.
• Got the dogs new toys.  New toys instigated fighting amongst the dogs, Ginger is possessive and attacked Petey.  Now to teach her that all the toys are ultimately mine, I carry around a plush broccoli shaped dog toy.  I stand over it while I'm cooking or getting ready in the morning.  If she comes too close I yell at her MINE!  I am demonstrating that I'm the pack leader and it's my toy.  I have lost my damn mind. 
• Swam some laps after a long hiatus from swimming.
• Took a drug test.
• Took a breathalyzer.  (Unrelated to the Scotch incident, blew 0.000, thankyouverymuch).
• Successfully made bread that does not suck so bad the dogs won't eat it (Ziegenbock cheddar bread).

That's about it for now.  Now I practice my presentation and start packing for the mile high city!

Famous Last Words

For those of you who know me well in real life, these ruminations on potential future motherhood will probably be believable but with several friends as new mothers and expecting their first child, it's got me thinking.  For those of you who know me casually or not at all, I'm sure you'll scoff at the following and say "famous last words".  And this isn't a judgement on other women, just my take on what I expect my experience will be.  Only time will tell.  And note that I said potential future motherhood, not like there's a bun up in this oven right now, or that we're trying to get a bun up in this oven.  Just that at some point in my life I intend to bake, okay?

• I will do the amount of breast feeding that I do/or do not feel like doing.  If you judge me, I will cut you.   
• I anticipate a Cesarean section.  Natural birth, blaw blaw blaw.  It's not going to happen.  I just know okay?  I've had these lady parts for more years than I care to state here and based on D and my's genetics, it's going to be an effing huge baby.  Like 10 lbs (not joking, that's how much D weighed).  That baby's not coming out the natural way, period. 
• I am going to have lots of drugs.  See bullet above.
• I am going to deliver in a hospital, no hippy stuff (though I actually admire women who do it any other way, it's just not for me).  I know exactly which hospital it will be.  I don't care if my doctor is there, if he/she is, super.  If he/she is in Hawaii, whatevs.  I don't care if they are catering to my wishes during birth, I hear women complain about this all the time.  I will take anyone with a medical degree*.  I will not dictate to anyone how I want my delivery to go.  I am a geologist.  If I'm drilling a water well in your backyard, I don't give a crap what you want/think about the way it should be constructed.  I will tell you to shut the ef up and go sit in the house and watch Oprah while I do my job.  In the same spirit, I will allow the people who do this every day for years and years run the show. 
• Based on previous hospital stays, I'm good with the nurse call button.  As in "ahem, I was told this morphine pump would work every 10 minutes and I've been timing it and it's actually every 11 minutes, would you please adjust it so it delivers as advertised?"  If I am denied pain meds, I will cut you.
• I will not freak out about my house being a wreck after the baby comes.  My house is currently already a wreck and I don't even have an excuse, which in turn freaks me out currently.  Having a new baby will suddenly validate my squalor, hooray!  "Oh wow yeah, that laundry sat in a wrinkled unfolded heap on the guest bed for 2 weeks, being a new mom is so crazy!"  Seriously, I don't have a baby now and I sometimes wonder why I even have a closet since it all lives in crumpled heaps. 

*Note that I do not consider people who graduated from medical schools in the Caribbean legit doctors**.  If you went to school in the Virgin Islands and you try to put your hands on my lady business, I will cut you.

**Note that if you were offended by the above note, why didn't you go to, say, a good medical school?  Too many keggers at the frat house during your undergrad years perhaps?  Yeah, that's right, unfollow me.   

LLBean, Your Commercial Disturbs Me

An innocent commercial, yes?  First of all, I grew up in a very LLBean family, I've been to their main HQ, I still get the catalog and several blatant LLBean items lie around our house (OMG love their monogrammed travel organizer, for the regular traveler it is LIFE).  However, this commercial reminded me of a lesson taught to us by my high school junior English teacher, Dr. Street.  We were reading the Grapes Of Wrath and studying the Great Depression and I remember very vividly studying the song in this commercial, Big Rock Candy Mountain. 

Here's the original last stanza:
The punk rolled up his big blue eyes



And said to the jocker, "Sandy,


I've hiked and hiked and wandered too,


But I ain't seen any candy.


I've hiked and hiked till my feet are sore


And I'll be damned if I hike any more


To be buggered sore like a hobo's whore


In the Big Rock Candy Mountains."
 
Hobo culture was romanticised to lure in little boys and the last stanza is where he realizes it's not all it's cracked up to be.  A "jocker" was a hobo who traveled with a young boy who was not his son, read between the lines, pedophile.  "Buggered and sore like a hobo's whore" which is basically saying, sodomized.  So LLBean, you used a song originally about raping little boys to advertise your back to school backpack sale.  FIRE YOUR ADVERTISING DEPARTMENT.  I mean seriously, who is going to be convinced to buy their son a backpack with a song that conjures up such an image?  Whiskey.  Tango.  Foxtrot.

Wed Night Shenanigans

Unfortunately, I can't post what I've been up to tonight because it involves:

A) Shopping more than I should have at Anthropologie (I went in to return stuff, I don't know how it happened, I'm so ashamed!  Trying to painfully decide what to part with and return whiiiiich will probably lead to another spree, thus the cycle continues, ugh.)
B) Bachelorette Party prep (of which many of the guests/guest of honor are loyal readers) and I want them to be SURPRISED so I'm keeping that stuff under wraps
C) Spent the night searching Austin for mini quiches and no one really wants to read about that (but seriously, if you know where I can get them, let me know)
D)  All of the above

So as far as the bachelorette party prep goes, no worries my lovelies, I am photo documenting it like a good little blogger, so expect a post Monday-ish?  As I'm working away on my little projects, I'm watching Dear John, which I can't decide if it is sweet or cheesy drivel. 

Darryl's on his way home from the airport, just flew in from a business trip in New Jersey.  There was a bit of an incident involving the New Jersey Turnpike and a trip past the Statue of Liberty rather than the Newark Airport as he'd originally intended, but he's on his way home now, safe and sound. 

That's all for now, kitchen remodel kicks off in 48 hours, busy, busy!

This Is Why I Should Not Be on Facebook at 1 AM

Guy I went to Jr. High with

hey you grew up and turned into a real hottie!

just fyi

1:02am 

Me

haha thanks

1:02am 

Guy I went to Jr. High with

;)

So apparently I really DID grow out of my awkward chicken legs, perm, and glasses I had at age 12.  It's official folks.

I'd be lying if I said that didn't make me chuckle a little/make my day.  Jebus, I need to go to bed....

Instant Messanging

Remember how in college you'd put up your away message when you left your dorm room.  How you couldn't wait to get back and see who'd left you messages.  How when you were working on a paper late at night you could see your friends were right there too and you could read what they were up to and even take a break and chat them up?

Fast forward to my life now.  I'm sitting here in my PJs about to embark on what could be an all nighter on what is basically the grownup world's version of a semester's final paper.  In true Kelly fashion, I've procrastinated, my current product is total crap, and I've done a good bit of panicking to get me to the "buckle down" point.  However, I find myself lacking a real piece of that college experience, the comradere of the AIM friend list.  I don't even have AIM on my computer, if I put it on there, would anyone I know actually still use that thing and be online?

Most work places have IM these days.  Remember how excited you'd be when you heard the chimes of an incoming message.  How you'd run to the computer to see what it was or have your friend read it out to you?  Now most of my IMing is done at work and it's exponentially less fun.  I find it's typically someone interrupting me from what I'm doing, asking me a bunch of questions or they're asking me to do something when I'm already swamped or they're saying something of a confidential nature where I have to close the window real quick so no one else can read it.  Basically, when the work IM goes off, I cringe.

So while I no longer have the social network to help me through my all nighter, I do have two adorable terriers, one who is snuggled up in the office dog bed, the other who is lounging across my desk (Ginger will harass you until you put her up there).  Yes they'll fall asleep and start making little doggy snore noises, but it's better than nothing.

Ruminations on My Week

Item the First:  My husband cannot stand it when I eat in bed.  I find eating in bed one of life's great guilty pleasures and have been known in my single days to pass out with refried beans stuck to my face and/or sheets.  My husband has exiled most of my DVR recordings to the bedroom DVR and has been working until my bedtime all week.  Ergo, by the commutative property, I have eaten ribs in bed all week while watching my shows.  Sorry husband, thems the breaks.  I also fed the dogs treats in bed.  It was an all out party.

Item the Second:  Dear Big Cruise Lines, please stop trying to convince me that cruises are fun.  Try this slogan on for size, "Cruises, better than being at work, but only slightly".  Christy does a great job in her recent post echoing my feelings about cruises.  Disclaimer: cruises are fun for families with kids, I went on one as a kid and had a blast, I would probably do it when we have a family, but for ages 21-35 with no kids, you'd be better off going to an all inclusive resort.  Unless you're Amish.  Or unaccustomed to fun.  Or spent the past year locked in an attic.  Or did I mention Amish?  Darryl occasionally is sucked in by the cruise commercial lies but I have thankfully always talked him down.  We are not cruise people.  Unless it's some sort of ultra glamorous European cruise that I can imagine but do not know about.  Or Alaska, I'd give that half a chance, but only if I was planning on giving my liver the week off or something.  But only if I'd come to terms with going another round with the Norwalk Virus that landed me in the ER a few years ago.  I mean, maybe you want to puke your guts out every 45 minutes (I did this 8 times before I tapped out and made Darryl take me in for IV fluids).  It's a diet AND a vacation.  My bad.  In defense of cruises, I picked mine up at Love Field or in a Southwest Airplane bathroom, it's hard to narrow it down. 

Item the Third:  Somewhat related to the last item, have you noticed on these cruise commercials (or resort ads in general) there's never a mom getting crazy.  It's always the family being amazed at how much dad has unwound or not checked his blackberry or going down a crazy water slide.  Mom's are never shown going wild (FYI, in case you were wondering where exactly moms go wild?  The answer is Napa, with other moms and no children or husbands, I had the pleasure of watching one puke on a wine tour a few years back and saw my future flash before my very eyes).  This is because women plan vacations and the advertising industry knows that.  Also, moms are crafty, they know if they get their husbands on cruises that the ship to shore calling rate is exorbitant, so they won't be able to spend the trip on the phone for work.  Hmm, perhaps these moms are onto something....

Item the Fourth:  Sometimes when I go on vacation I feel guilty about leaving the dogs at the kennel.  I am very concerned that if something should happen to us, what will become of the dogs?  Obviously I've worked out a plan with a level of thought and detail that people generally reserve for actual human children.  Any time anyone dog sits for us there are generally 3 pages of instructions.  And no, my dogs do not have any unusual medical conditions or behavior practices that the average dog owner could not handle.  Note that I have always planned to bear children, dump them on their grandparents, and jet off to Europe for a week.  Something tells me that this is going to be harder than I think, given that my human children will hopefully refrain from eating their own poop and farting on my 12 times a day (if they do, I'm sending them back).

Public Service Announcement to Men Everywhere

Or should I call it a Pubic Service Announcement?  I crack myself up....

When you constantly adjust/itch/handle your junk in front of me, I automatically imagine that you have some sort of disgusting STD and that your business is covered in itchy, oozing bumps and that you are so totally uncomfortable that you can't wait to get into private to frantically itch your genetalia that will probably rot off at any moment.

My husband, who is well aware of my pet peve, has tried time and time again to explain the male need to readjust, but I just don't get it.  So boys, when you adjust your junk in public, just know that I automatically assume you have the Clap* or something, so maybe we should work on that habit?  Especially if you're trying to attract a mate?  Because if she's anything like me, you have about a snowball's chance in hell of ever seeing her naked after itching your crotch in front of her.

*In writing this post, I actually researched the Clap on Wikipedia.  It says it can cause projectile urination in women.  Holy hell, I can't even imagine. I mean, how do you even manage that?  God bless monogamy.

New Year, New Aggrivation

Ugh.  So I was supposed to go swim at the gym tonight and we're going to chalk that up to a big fail.  The gym is packed, husband called to say the pool is pretty full, I have a business trip to iron and pack for and really wish I'd made time to fight for a lane.

In addition, I'm starving because my protein shake is like circling the globe and won't be here until Wendesday (and I managed to have no viable snacks in the house) and I just checked my Victoria's Secret order status, which includes new workout pants, a new bra that will replace my current one which is being held together by duct tape and the underwire frequently pops out and stabs me in the lungs (only adding to my rage), and my new underwear which, just noticed, ordered the wrong kind.  Now I get to deal with an exchange.  No idea when though, because my order placed on December 29th HASN'T SHIPPED.

And to add insult to injury, my new stop-making-my-hair-look-fried shampoo went "out for delivery" this morning at 3 AM and has yet to make its way to my doorstep.  So I'm drinking coffee to stave off my hunger, blogging, packing, ironing, muttering to myself under my breath, in the hopes that I will somehow have time to accomplish all this AND cook dinner for my husband and myself AND turn around and go to the gym around 8 or 9 so I can swim unmolested by the New Year's Resolution masses.  Argh.

Just Thoughts....

Nothing in particular to write about, mostly my random musings.  Not much to relay about my New Years Eve, while it was certainly the wildest/most eventful/most booze soaked in recent memory, those details make it simply not appropriate to detail in this forum.  I barely even have an appropriate photo to post and in order to protect the identities of the innocent, I shall refrain.  But there is not only a roll of quite incriminating photos, but a video as well.  Can you imagine?  I shall clearly never plan on running for public office based this NYE.  But I WILL say that everyone seemed to enjoy my Tiger Woods interpretation of the Vicars and Tarts theme.  I love a good costume party.

Tonight I made a variation on Cooking Light's Cheese and Shrimp Stuffed Poblanos with a side of my Spanish brown rice.  Hatefully, Cooking Light has not made that recipe available online and it's a lot of typing to transcribe from page to blog.  I'm hoping they'll post it in the near future so I can cut, paste, and edit with my improvements? 

But if you feel so inclined, pick up the Jan/Feb issue on stands now, turn to page 128 and make that shit.  Oh and add a can of lump crab (drain it).  And substitute a 2% blend of colby and monterey jack for the Chihuahua cheese (because what the heck is Chihuahua cheese?).  As we speak it is taking all of my willpower to not tear into the kitchen and devour my leftovers.  I didn't even photograph it because I thought it would turn out heinous, but Darryl, who never eats poblanos and finds them disgusting, declared it some of my best work to date and cleaned his plate.  So no worries, in the next month or so I hope to make it again and add the full recipe and photos for those people who are not religious Cooking Light readers like myself. 

Can we talk about how badly I want to go to cooking school?  Darryl and I have discussed it and for a variety of reasons it's just not practical.  But it doesn't mean I don't dream of listening to talks all day about the art of cooking.  And then spend the other half of my day actually cooking.  There are few things that I want to do every day and that is cook.  It is a relaxing creative outlet that sometimes leaves me frustrated and exhausted, but convincing my husband to eat something he normally finds disgusting based on the sheer yummyness (and did I mention relative healthyness?) is all the reward I need. 

My next two goals, to convince him to eat lobster rolls and brussel sprouts....not necissarily at the same time.  The challenge with the lobster rolls, high fat content and Darryl's aversion to mayonase.  I will attempt it with low fat greek yogurt as a substitute.  And for the brussel sprouts?  Well, I spent a good 2 hours researching lobster rolls tonight and the best way to execute them, so the sprouts will require further research.  We'll see how this goes.  On the menu for tomorrow night?  Lamb chops with a side of brown rice and my first attempt at cooking swiss chard.

Rock Bottom

Father Time sends Santa a message telling him that the baby new year, Happy, is missing! And without the baby new year, it'll remain the old year forever. But it's foggy and snowing, so Rudolph's the only reindeer for the job. Rudolph learns that Eon (ugly buzzard) is also searching for Happy, so that Eon's life will never end. With the help of 1 Million B.C. and Sir 1023, and 1776, Rudolph searches through the islands of the Archipelago of Last Year and races against Eon to ensure a Happy New Year.

This is what I'm watching right now, not even joking.  My choices are do chores or watch this.  I already had dinner, I already worked out, what am I supposed to do with myself?  WHY IS THERE NOTHING ON TV!?!  Ugh. I'm going to go clean my bathroom floor with a toothbrush now because THAT'S HOW BORED I AM.  2010, hurry up and get here.