Cookie Girl Does Cookie Girl

Well, it's the day we've all been waiting for. Many thanks to the cookie eaters, bakers, and monsters in this video. I couldn't have done it without you.

Love, C.G.

"I Love You Sweatheart"

 A man risked his life to write the words.
A man hung upside down (an idiot friend
holding his legs?) with spray paint
to write the words on a girder fifty feet above
a highway. And his beloved,
the next morning driving to work...?
his words are not (meant to be) so unique.
Does she recognize his handwriting?
Did he hint to her at her doorstep the night before
of "something special, darling, tomorrow"?
And did he call her at work
expecting her to faint with delight
at his celebration of her, his passion, his risk?
She will know I love her now,
the world will know my love for her!
A man risked his life to write the world.
Love is like this at the bone, we hope, love
is like this, Sweatheart, all sore and dumb
and dangerous, ignited, blessed--always,
regardless, no exceptions,
always in blazing matters like these: blessed.
 
Thomas Lux

It's A Good Thing These Posts Are Months Apart

Because when I post... oh, do I ever post.

I am thinking that next semester will be much more conducive to blogging.

But until then, did you know you can cook a salmon in the dishwasher?!?!?!??

Click here. You know you want to.

Happy Sunday!

Well, That Wasn't The Plan

I swung the full garbage bag in the air, only a little nervous that the macaroni & cheese box would poke a hole in it and dirty Kleenexes, apple cores, empty beer cans, and eggshells would rain down on my head.

With an expertly executed wrist-flick, I let go of the handles and watched the overstuffed cloud of a trash bag sail through the sky.

A perfect arc: big white poof, skinny fluttering yellow handles, tiny silver glint sparkling in the morning sunlight.

Tiny silver glint?

My keys.

"Goodbye, goodbye!" they jingled and giggled as they sailed into the dumpster.

Update: A Trip To The Dentist

I may have mentioned my love/hate relationship with oral hygiene (as in: I love brushing my teeth/my dentist hates me).

I had to go back to the dentist on Wednesday to get a cavity filled. Despite being a total masochist, my dentist actually does a pretty good job of numbing your mouth before he starts drilling around in there. A really good job, actually. As in, "this should wear off in about two to eight hours" (eight?!).

The point is, I left the dentist's office at about 5:00 with a totally numb left side of the face. Mouth, teeth, lips, cheek-- numb. Left nostril? Definitely not responsive. Left eye? Yup. A little droopy.

That means it was time to play my favorite post-dentist game. It's called "Look In The Mirror And Try To Smile Even Though Your Face Is Really Droopy On One Side!"

It's hiiiilarious!

Because you try to smile, but you only can with half of your face, which is hysterical, so then you laugh, but you're only laughing with half of your face, which is even more hysterical, and then you laugh even harder, because you look like a total freakazoid, and the cycle goes on and on until the toilet flushes and some lady comes out of the stall in the public restroom and, refusing to make eye contact, washes her hands and darts outta there at lightning speed.

Smooth, Part II

Scene: On the dance floor at Caravan Cattle Company. A middle-aged Jordanian MAN with an... um... exotic scent is two-stepping with WHITNEY.

WHITNEY: So, what's your name?

SAMAL: I go by Sam, but my name in my country is Samal.

WHITNEY: Samal?

SAMAL: Don't say that!

WHITNEY: [terrified she has said something profane in his language] Oh no, why?!

SAMAL: Because you will break my heart.