Ok so about 3 weeks ago I've started to have Winder Farms deliver fresh and delicious milk and produce to my house. Well my Dad's house since I live in squalor in his basement, but none the less a girl has got to have good produce, squalor be damned. Oh and p.s. store bought milk from Smiths can go fuck itself. Winder is way better in the sack.

Bad humor aside....

Winder not only delivers milk and produce, they pretty much will bring you any staple food that you can buy at the store with the exception of a few things. I was perusing through their list the other week and noticed fresh fettuccine in there. I bought it out of curiosity, I've only ever had the dried kind in the box.

So I get my pasta on Friday and have a look at it. As I held the small 10 0z. container in my hand I couldn't help but think that it's soft texture and mellow yellow color was just simply pretty. I was holding a package of pretty fettuccine. Weird I know. I set it back in the fridge and had no idea what to do with it. The pasta intimidated me to be honest. Albeit it did scare me, I knew that this pasta was not to be taken lightly, it was destined for greatness. So I headed toward the computer to find the perfect, somewhat easy, recipe that would determine my fettuccine's fate.



Of course the first place I looked to was a lovely woman by the name of Elise over on her food blog Simply Recipes.

I knew I could trust her with my fettuccine, her good taste in food has yet to fail me. So I decided on this recipe: Fettuccine with Creamy Tomato Italian Sausage Sauce Recipe

It was perfect, the recipe had all my favorite things in the world. And it had fettuccine in the title so everything worked out. ;)

The first thing I noticed was the shallots, I love shallots and become warm and fuzzy when a recipe calls for them. Shallots are from the onion family but way cooler because they for 1 are much milder than an onion with a sweeter taste and 2 they kick ass because their form is similar to garlic and that's just neat.



So I got on to putting together my meal, which I discovered took about the same effort as making a box of Kraft Mac and Cheese. Everything was cooked in the same pan, except the pasta of course. But it was incredibly easy.

The result? I am now a true believer in fresh pasta. The difference is unexplainable, I simply do not have the proper words at my disposal to describe the unbelievable yumminess of that god damn fettuccine. And the even more mind boggling thing is that homemade pasta is probably even better! The dish was if I may say so absolutely delicious. Earl and my Dad were freaking out, I was freaking out, pandemonium soon followed.

The only thing I strayed from in the recipe was instead of using half sweet and half spicy sausage, I went forth and just did all spicy. It was fantastic. Although a word of caution to non likers of spicy food, do what the recipe calls for, there was a considerable amount of heat with the way I did it.



So that night ended in full bellied happiness and I now have a new easy and tasty dish into my rotation. :D

Alright so I said I'd make food for V-day. I chose to make Chicken Marsala with Zucchini Fritters and Molten Lava Cakes. Wow. I was skeptical about this chicken business at first but I am pretty sure now I can never become a vegetarian (sorry Eric). The chicken was so good that when I took the first bite I was overpowered by a vision of me and my meal hand in hand jumping over Marsala cream coated rainbows with pancetta bits raining down upon us. And I'm not even going to try to explain the fritters, their deliciousness was unspeakable. And the molten cake? I fucked it up entirely, don't even ask, it still hurts.

I only manged to snap shots of the Chicken for those who like their eyes fucked by nearly pornographic pictures of saucy wonderness. For the rest of you, I don't apologize, I am not ashamed of my love for cramming yummy food down my throat and then taking shameless pictures of the whole spectacle.

Valentine's Day isn't so bad after all...









Mmmmm...yesssss.

You can find the recipe here.

Valentine’s Day has never been a favorite of mine. I actually abhor the wretched holiday. I think that it makes most women somehow turn romance into a greedy contest of who got the most expensive diamond necklace, chocolates, roses and etc. Plus it makes us go positively mental; our expectations of relationships soar to an untouchable level. All the damned Moulin Rouge and Sleepless in Seattle fucks with our notion of reality. Well I’m probably speaking for myself, but all I know is women can be bitches on the holiday reserved for love. Guys aren’t much better, I’m not even going to go there, and I’ll just stick to bitching about my own gender. All I know is the holiday is stupid and turns everyone into grotesque renditions of pink teddy bears and cheap chocolate, which may be cute and appealing to some but I am certain I loathe it. That being said, I am going to participate because I am in a relationship and if I were approached with the question of what I did on Valentine’s Day and give the answer, ‘nothing’, I will have suspicious inquiries as to whether Earl and I are fighting. Surely we want to suffocate in the horrid holiday like everyone else.

So I decided to cook Earl and I a nice dinner, which should suffice. I’m going to make Chicken Marsala with Zucchini Fritters and Molten Lava Cakes for dessert. It’ll be fun; I haven’t cooked in a while. Although I made bread pudding 5 days ago but that doesn’t count. :D Any who, I’ll post some pictures of the meal and post the recipes for those of you who fancy cookery.

Anyone else despise Valentine’s? I want to feel your cynicism wash over me.

So recently my Mom had a request for me, a creative endeavor of sorts. She wanted me to make the digital equivalent of a collage form referred to as ‘altered art’. She wanted to create a specific ‘collection’ of this style to sell in her shop on Etsy.com and hopefully to her whole sellers. I was reluctant of course; it would require me to do something which would lead to the approval of people, something I’m not too fond of. I’ve come to find in my short life that I in fact really hate people’s opinions of me and their half-witted observations are rarely worth putting any investment into. But the sordid process still affects me none the less. Anyway, so I screwed around in my beloved CS3 for awhile and decided that this digital collage isn’t so bad. It just reminds me how much I love design and the whole method behind it, not that I actually know a flying tick about ‘method’ but I like to think I do.  It’s occupies my time, at least until I get more wine. ;) So there’s my update for my Infobahn buddies, who have been inquiring about my mental health recently, and as you can see I am seemingly sound. Lol

If you’re curious go check out my Mom’s Etsy shop at http://artunderglass.etsy.com

My stuff I’ve “designed” *snorts* is called ‘The Dreamland Collection’ lame I know but it sound whimsy and such. Oh and scroll down on one of the listings and check out my explanation on were my inspiration for the design came from, lol something about ‘creative conscious’.  You’ll giggle, maybe, unless your lame and don’t find such things silly.

I can’t think, I can’t sleep, I can’t do anything with the tirade of vacuums and pacing going on over my head. It seems that my unfortunate state of insanity is infectious. My freaking Father won’t stop with the god damn vacuuming. It’s been vrooming for at least 2 hours on and off now. All this fucking noise is causing my brain to swell and truly increasing my chances of eating too many happy pills. If he’s not cleaning, he’s blaring the stereo. I then usually go upstairs to see if he has successful ended his existence by putting so much sound pressure on his brain causing it to implode. But no, no he is just sitting there on the couch with his special cup that has Daddy’s special juice in it, looking just as alarmingly content as a cat with cream. Fucking christ, I mean really. This is just too perfect, too easy. My psychiatrist is going to enjoy the earful of self pitying I will be dishing out tomorrow.

Are you alright?
All of the sudden you went away,
Are you alright?
I hope you come back around some day,
Are you alright?
I haven't seen you in a real long time,
Are you alright?
Could you give me some time aside?
Are you alright?
I looked around me and you were gone,
Are you alright?
I feel like there must be something wrong,
Are you alright?
Cause it seemed like you disappered,
Are you alright?
Cause I been feeling alittle scared,
Are you alright?

(Chorus:)
Are you sleeping through the night?
Do you have someone to hold you tight?
Do you have someone to hang out with you?
Do you have someone to hug and kiss you, Hug and kiss you, Hug and kiss you?
Are you alright?

(Guitar Solo)

Are you alright?
Is there something been bothering you?
Are you alright?
I wish you give me alittle clue,
Are you alright?
Is there something you wanna say?
Are you alright?
Just tell me that you're okay,
Are you alright?
Cause you took off without a word,
Are you alright?
You flew away like a little bird,
Are you alright?
Is there anything I can do?
Are you alright?
Cause I need to hear from you,
Are you alright?

(Chorus)

Are you sleeping through the night?
Do you have someone to hold you tight?
Do you have someone to hang out with you?
Do you have someone to hug and kiss you, Hug and kiss you, Hug and kiss you?
Are you alright?
Are you alright?
Are you alright?
Heyyyyyyyyyyy!

-Lucinda Williams

Haha. oh god. *curls into the fetal position.*

I'm cunting lonely again and the only reasonable thing I can think to do is to drink this beer that tastes like cigarettes, hey two birds with one stone. See I can be optimistic!

Did you know that when you go to a psychologists office as a first time patient that they make you fill out a questionnaire about how much you want to die? Questions like "Do you have thoughts of suicide?" Your choices are consisted of 4 fabulous answers:

1.Never
2.Sometimes
3.Frequently
4.Almost always

So I of course answer 'sometimes', because I'm just too modest for my own good. Then the next question is, 'Do you ever have homicidal urges?'

Haha my fucking life has now been complete. Wouldn't it be something if I pulled out a knife and stabbed the miserable bastard sitting next to me clutching his clipboard trying to answer question number 10, "Do you have thoughts/feelings of paranoia?"

If you know what I am even talking about you'd be laughing a lot more than anyone has the right to, if you are furrowing your eyebrows and leafing through yet another self help book, kill yourself now, trust me on this.

Anyway, so these questionnaires are starting to become extinct and replaced by a palm pilot device. I know this because I go through psychologists like hooker goes through abortions and STD meds. Oh Snap! I'm in the know about this shit and the word on the street is don't trust a shrink if he isn't eco-friendly.

Well that ends my psychobabble for the night. Y'all come back now ya hear!?!

Oh be sure to share your doctors office experiences as well. That's right bitches, share with the group. Hugs and coffee afterward.

My brain is refusing to cooperate as of late; it’s like disassociation on crack. I sit here at my laptop nearing the end of the day and when I try to recall what I did that day, nothing significant comes to mind. Now part of my dilemma is due to the fact that the events of my day didn’t hold much to remember. That’s not the entire problem though. My days seem to blur together and my response to this is merely blinking dumbly and doe eyed. It feels sort of like when I get extremely depressed minus the 18 hour sleeping schedule, whacked out diet, unresponsiveness and the constant urge to stab myself repeatedly. Hmmm, strange.

Anyway, I feel like I’ve been reduced to a subnormal and vacant cheese brain. I don’t like it too much, but I’m willing to blame it on reading too much slash and putting way too much imagination in my Hugh Laurie fantasies before I go to bed. It has transformed me into a blathering sex crazed monster. Yes, yes that must be it; it makes much more sense and is hell of a lot more easier than putting thought into my real problems. I thank you Vegas, for numbing me into a carnal state of conscious.

(Side note: Kids cover your fragile eyes)

Yeah that's right, I dig scruffy older men. Got a problem with that? No?...Oh.
Well good then... What's that? You are a sexy scruffy older man?...
Ok well then...um...crap I have a boyfriend...damn love! Ok well just press your genitals to the screen and say you love me, I'll hear you.

This entry shall be as bland as most of my day was.

I woke up fearful of having to go about my day, you see I've been having the closest thing I can relate to migraines the past two days. So I was in the mind set that if my day never starts than the migraine can't come. I've applied this same method to my general suffering and let me tell you folks, it doesn't really work that great. So any who, I pretty much stayed in my bed the entire day. My mom took pity on me and bought me some Gushers and Sour Patch Kids. I called Molly or maybe she called me and we talked about some of our shit and we both came out relatively unscathed. The timing was awful, these conversations are meant for the phone, but hey I make do when I must. I mean everything isn't perfect, in fact I feel a bit worse about this whole matter between her and myself. But I'm sure it's all for the greater good, whatever the fuck that may be.
Most of you who do read this have no clue what I am speaking of and that's just fine, you don't really need to. :)

Vegas has this effect on me that usually hits me a week into being here. I step back and review my misery and life and such. I get this overwhelming feeling of placing myself in the point of no return. Like a fuck all of it kind of attitude. I keep coming back though, I need this feeling of somber nostalgia. This wrecked feeling. I can going the fucking bowling ally at 3 am and listen to my stupid iPod and play for a dollar a game. And I wouldn't stand out because there's people like me everywhere and we Las Vegans are all collectively fucked up. I feel safe and warm and fuzzy in chaos, I'm surprised I don't create more drama than I already do.

Anyway, I'm bloated from a box of Gushers and need to get ready to go bowling, again. The day was mostly fruitless but look out for future entires, a flurry of neurosis is likely on the horizon.

Ok so I'm pretty much writing this entry out of guilt. :D I bitched and moaned to Earl (boyfriend) about writing a blog every night while I'm in Las Vegas. I did this for two reasons: 1. because it's always good to write and he's been having writer's block with lyrics so I figured it'd help. 2. I really really really super duper miss reading his blogs. When we first started talking 900 billion years ago, he used to write blogs all the time and the best part of my useless day was reading them. So I simply miss it. He's smart and funny and if the little shit actually sits down and writes, he has a lot of good shit to say. So I told him if he promised to post every night, then I would as well. I have nothing to say as usual, I don't know why I even have a blog in the first place; I really have no right.

( Read on if you like to gouge your eyes out in a fit of bordom )