Hurry! Limited Time Offers!

I was surfing around on the internet a couple of weeks ago, and came across something rather interesting.  It’s really fairly impossible to preface what it actually is with something witty, so I’m just going to come out and say, for anyone who ever wanted to be knighted, well, you can.

That’s right, there is an ‘official’ internet site selling nobility titles.  It’s taken me the interim two weeks since seeing this site for it to really sink in.  Really, when I saw it, I laughed, scrolled through it a bit, and went on about my business.  I thought about it today though, and thought, what a good scam.  Really though, has anyone ever read the requirements of becoming, and/or receiving a title of nobility?  I haven’t.  Then think about, how many of you, have ever wanted one?  Exactly.

What an intelligent product to sell.  Titles.  And, on the internet!  You don’t even have to fly to England and meet the Queen.  You can type in payment info, hit the confirm button, and blamo!  You’re a Duke.  Or, a Lord.  Or, a Lady.  Sorry guys, purchasing a title does not in fact give you a seat in the House of Lords.  Also, sorry kids, purchased titles are not in fact, hereditary.  You will have to save your allowance to continue the grandeur.

I think it would be pretty hilarious if I purchased the ‘lady’ title.  Anyone who has ever heard me speak, knows I am most assuredly, not English.  However much I attempt an Irish accent at times, sorry for those of you who were fooled, I’m actually American.  Going with that, I can’t imagine the ridicule that would go along with my American accent telling people I have been granted the title of Lady.  I think it would be easier to just change my name to Lady LaPoint, instead of Jess.  That would be a bit more believable.  Either that, or I should really start working on my accent. 

For other people though, it may be quite logical.  I’m not sure who they are, but they could be out there.  Minnie Driver seems to do fantastic accents, I think she should be Lady Minnie Driver.  Maybe that’s what we should do.  With Parliament, and a Prime Minister, I’m sure the English Queen doesn’t have too much to do.  Perhaps she should take petitions for nobility.  Any nominations for nobility may be sent to me, and I’ll make sure the Queen puts it on her ‘to do’ list.

Mutant Chickens: Bird or Dinosaur?

At three years old, when most of my peers wanted to be cupcakes and spaceships when they grew up, I wanted to be a Paleontologist. Seemingly similar, but not really, I ended up with a degree in Anthropology instead. Which, is ok. Instead of dinosaur migratory and flocking patterns, I know about human flocking patterns. Trust me, you may not think so, but humans flock.

Anyway, with that said, my so called ‘nerd’ side revealed, (I like to think of it as the interesting, intellectual side myself) I was watching the Discovery Channel the other night, when a special came on about the actuality of recreating Dinosaur DNA. I, of course, was riveted. I hope some other people watched it too. It was so interesting that they better make a follow-up on it. I’ll cover the major points:

• Number One: soft tissue has been discovered in dinosaur bones, whereas it was previously thought that soft tissue was eradicated a couple of thousand years into the fossilization process.
  
• Number Two: Can we in fact, from this soft tissue/complete cells with nuclei discovery piece together the actual DNA strand of dinosaurs and clone them? Answer: not at this time, nor likely ever.
  
• Number Three: The most popular theory around is that some dinosaurs in fact evolved into birds for the survival of their race. We can take that theory, look at the DNA chain of modern birds, work back from their genetic makeup and from there re-create the dinosaur.

Pretty interesting stuff. To me, at least. The best part about it, is scientists have been studying modern day chickens for these tests. They have found out some astounding things, that have apparently been in front of our faces since the chicken arrived from it’s egg, (dinosaur egg?) we just haven’t actually studied it until now. It’s in the process of further investigation, but in the embryology lab, it has been discovered that modern chickens in fact have all of the genetic makeup of their forefathers; evolution has just turned the genes off from maturing.

Conclusion being, if the genes are turned back on, chickens can grow sharp teeth, dinosaur tails with up to 16 vertebra, scaly legs with three toed claws, and indeed arms with three fingered clawed hands. Feathers… optional. I wonder if they would still cluck. Keep in mind, this is all embryological at this point.

Wouldn’t it be interesting though, in ten or twenty years, to have a mutant chicken farm? Chickens with long tails, or clawed-hand arms. Funny as the mental image is, going back to the famous Jurassic Park line that in this entry is completely paraphrased ‘everyone is so obsessed with the can we recreate dinosaurs, but have never stopped to think should we?’

Tapping Maple Trees

I woke up today thinking about the smile that would hit my face as soon as I smelled that first whiff of morning coffee. I am definitely of the opinion, that coffee is most enjoyed in the morning, and although, also enjoyable in the afternoon, or late evening, if I’m drinking it then, it most likely means I have to stay awake for some reason. Which I’m not a huge fan of.

Smelling coffee is nearly as good as drinking it in my book. So, I sat in front of my bay window upstairs, drank my coffee and slipped into contentment. The sun was coming in at just the correct angle that I could lay my head against my chair back and have to shut my eyes because of brightness. The sun is rising earlier every morning. It’s beginning to smell like Spring outside, although, I’ve lived through the February thaw ruse too many times to believe it. It’s difficult to ignore the smells of the season though. I have that odd sense that I should be walking through the woods tapping maple trees.
I lost the morning like that.

I’ve been a bit lonely lately. Not, I’m so depressed I don’t know what to do lonely, just that nagging sense of wanting something that isn’t here. I suppose it makes me more introspective than usual. Normally, I spend the sunny part of the morning spoiling my pepper plants and whispering them sweet nothings. Today, I spoiled, well, me.

I sat in the sun with the window open. I smelled the not-quite-Spring air, and wondered what blustery weather it still had in store. I stoked the fire in the stove, and listened to the wind travel through the pines. For the first time in my life, I didn’t think. About anything. I reveled in the moment that stretched into an hour.

I came out of it when I realized I had to pee. But, it was nice, that hour. It’s amazing sometimes what can recharge you, and make you think about the things that you have to fill you, and not the things you have lost that threaten to sweep you away.

Bad News and Good News

Bad News

Taxes. What a horrible time of year. I really don’t know anyone that doesn’t hate them. Rob from the poor, give to the rich, good job George W. In recent years, I haven’t been affected so much, I take my W-4’s down to H&R, they calculate it for me, and then I get a check in the mail. Easy right?Wrong. Not this year. This year, on top of over ten-thousand dollars I’ve already given to the government, they want to take more, because I, number one, am not actively populating the country, and number two, am not legally wed. So, basically, I just give the government all of my money, because I obviously have no husband or children to spend it on. And what the hell is FICA anyway. Damnit.
I won’t even go into having to pay state taxes to states that I have never lived in, nor will ever live in. It makes me a bit angry. And you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. I’m not sure the particular type of green I turn, because I don’t often look in the mirror at such times, but I’m pretty sure it’s an ugly puce type color. I also like to think I start talking like Rambo, the gutteral, I can only understand 4 words out of 10 type of delusional psycho. I even have a red bandana.

Anyways, enough of my temper. In good news, George W. has also proposed to cut forestry spending by quite a large sum of money. To fund his war. Oh wait, that’s not good news. It just means most of my state will be out of work, and or forced to retire early. Sorry, Montana, you get screwed because you like your trees. The good news is, that the wild land fire budget is actually 48% of the budget. That’s good news. We won’t die in fires, but by wintertime, we have no money to pay snowplow drivers. So, we’ve been given death by ice instead of fire. Thanks for making that choice for us George.
I’m really not a government hater. I just hate this government. And really, if I were rich, I’d love it. So, I guess you can call me selfish. It’s ok, I don’t mind.

Good News

The real good news of the day though, is, I’ve finally gotten rid of the horrible, horrible
coffee that I took a gamble on buying. I lost that one. But boy, did I learn my lesson. Less is more people, less is more. When you’re a coffee addict… stay with what you like, and if you want to try something new, kudos to you! But, buy it in a little bag. Don’t go for the industrial sized Costco bag and have no backup. I guess we can’t be intelligent all the time.

Love. An Occasion for Every Day?

Valentines Day.  The most hated of holidays in my opinion.  Keep in mind, I’m not a bitter Betty about love and romance and all of the things that most people should keep to themselves, but instead seem to talk about over coffee and end up on Jerry Springer.  I just am not of the opinion that a day is needed to number one, remind someone to say I love you, number two, a shameless commercial holiday to boost jewelry sales, and last, but most assuredly, not least, make every woman and man out there that is single feel like a worthless, ugly pile of shit.  I apologize for the harsh language, but, really, there’s no other word for it.
It’s really a holiday for women I think.  Not to celebrate love, and families, but to rub it in to other women.  In my experience, the women who receive jewelry and roses from their beau, or multiple admirers, need some help anyway.  Number one, if your relationship is insecure enough that you must be bought once a year, it stands to reason that if you are accepting of this scenario, you are a women that is bought, and who will most likely go to the highest bidder.  Aka, people, a whore.  I’m not saying that all of these women sleep around, I just think that it’s a bit selfish to demand high dollar presents.  Now, they’re all shallow whores.  Christmas and birthdays are for jewelry my friends, not Valentines Day.  Reason being, those are reciprocating holidays, when it is socially acceptable to give and receive gifts.  When was the last time you heard of a woman buying her beau a new car for Valentines Day?  That’s right.  Never.  Because women don’t think to give on this so called holiday, they only think, oh, what can I get out of it.

Which brings me to the afore mentioned point, of women snubbing other women.  When one receives lavish gifts, she must then, rub it in the faces of every woman she sees over the course of the day.  Even ones she doesn’t know.  Making me, as an example think ‘wow, what an idiot’, but, thankfully, not very many women are like me.  Most women think ‘wow… I wish…  why… am I ugly?  And… and… FAT! Why don’t I have a guy like that?…why, why, why’.  When really, men only buy women things on Valentines Day so that they don’t get nagged to death for the rest of their lives. Jeesh.  Maybe if they’re lucky though, they’ll get to see a good cat fight, because my, women are viscous. 

So, on the 14^th of February this year, I think that I will stay in my house, cook a nice meal, and make a note to plant a tree on Arbor Day.  I’m not quite sure when it is, but it seems a bit more worthwhile.

Tricks are for Kids?

I was thinking today, about breakfast cereal.  I was thinking about how Trix was so much better when it was shaped in hollow multi-colored puffs, and not in the fruit shapes.  Which, of course led me to think about how much I hated that stupid rabbit, but still felt bad for him when kids would dangle the box of Trix at him, and then eat it in front of him in the commercials.  He should have taken lessons from the Hamburgler.

I like to daydream about the Hamburgler and devising clever schemes for hamburgling success, but I felt I was on the verge of epiphany with the whole thought on Trix, so I didn’t let myself.  I figured that I was just being daft, but I thought about how much I liked my Trix, Fruity Pebbles, and Honeycomb cereal when I was little.  Lets face it, when you’re five, you’re basically a willing prisoner.  Five year olds use pixie sticks to trade, prisoners use cigarettes.  I think my main point here, is that kids love sugar, and parents give it to them. 

I’m almost there I promise.  This whole thought took me quite awhile this morning while the coffee was brewing.  So anyway, kids and sugary breakfast cereals.  I think it’s kind of ok, if per say, your kid is running around outside, burning off breakfast, and eats healthy the rest of the day.  Not so ok, if they hang out all day, are lazy, and only eat Trix.  Which, also, unfortunately, some parents let them do.  It’s like saying to your kid ‘It’s ok that you’re a fat slob, you’re only 200lbs and have type two diabetes at age five, and you’ve only had one kidney transplant’.  Again, with the dramatics, I can’t seem to stay away.  But really, that’s a hell of a punishment for teasing a rabbit.

The Almost-Crash That Would Have Been Famous

(Not Sasquatch or his snow-plow)

I nearly ran over Sasquatch today. Seriously.

Mother Nature decided to be blustery again today, in other words, blizzards are not just for January anymore. So, that being said, of course, I drove into town in my rear wheel drive SUV. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one dumb enough to have purchased a two-wheel drive SUV. It’s things like these that prove I’m a natural blonde. Anyway, I digress. It’s not the going into town that was momentous, it was coming home. On the home stretch, I tend to go a bit faster, I’ll admit, I like to spin out a bit, do a little skid action. Really, the worst that can happen is I hit a snow bank. And get towed out by my more intelligent better half, who bought a real four-wheel drive car. Or, so I thought. Today happened to be the day, at the exact time I was coming home, that Sasquatch was cleaning the snowplow attachment on his station wagon. With his girlfriend.

That could be a whole segment in itself. Dating Sasquatch: The Insider Story. Maybe I’ll interview her. At any rate, I’m driving up the road, fishtailing and singing Brad Paisley tunes about whiskey and mud, when all I can really see is the engulfing mass of Sasquatch ass. Bending over his snowplow. I, expert snow driver that I am, swerve to slow down and stop before I run over him. Good thing he’s deaf, because he could have really been not to pleased with me for destroying Brad Paisley tunes like that. If there’s one thing I am, it’s pretty tone deaf.

I think this should be an inspirational story though. I’m pretty sure the moral is definitely not, no fishtailing in your vehicle for fun. I think the real point here, is, guys, come on, Sasquatch has a girlfriend, it can’t be that difficult.

New Site!

Are you getting tired about reading all of this crazy cooking stuff? Want to hear more about house building in Montana, or crazy neighbors in said state?

Or maybe you wish you could read odd recipes about banana bread French toast and the virtues of baking from scratch 24/7….

Either way, your dream is about to come true. Please check back soon for links to a new (but not necessarily improved) site devoted solely to cooking (and related subjects-not Montana).  The new cooking site will free up valuable internet space here for more posts on your favorite Sasquatchy-neighbor and the virtues of living in the non-non-burnable areas of Montana.

Do You Dare?

I most certainly do. But then again, I know what the dare is.

It all started one day, when I decided that I was obsessive about French toast. The fact that I do not in fact, own a griddle, kind of sealed the deal of pancakes vs. French toast because really, they’re griddle cakes people, not frying pan cakes. French toast on the other hand, can most certainly be cooked in a frying pan. If you cook it on medium low. If the pan gets too hot, it will sear the outsides before the bread is warmed through. Other important things to note, to become a true French toast connoisseur, is make sure your egg and milk mixture is thoroughly beaten before soaking bread in it. It helps to minimize the ‘fried egg hooked to bread’ scenario. I prefer to also bathe mine in cinnamon, because well, it’s just better that way.

It’s true that French toast can be made out of any sort of bread you have on hand. But, unfortunately, not good French toast. I prefer a light, airy, homemade sort of bread, thick sliced of course for mine. Until now. This is where the dare part comes in. Are you willing to risk your thighs becoming thunderous? Your rock hard six pack abs become not so rock hard? I’ll admit, I’m exaggerating, but anything this good should at least have a bit of foreboding attached to it. In actuality it’s not that unhealthy. It has fruit in it after all. What I’m alluding to, is your favorite banana bread made into French toast. Gasp. I’ve said it. I’m addicted to it. Now, I will say, I even go so far as to put walnuts… AND chocolate chips in it. It makes me feel a bit mischievous, like I’m cheating or something. It’s dessert, it’s a breakfast… it’s a …brunch? All in one. It is a bit sweet with maple syrup (real of course, no Mrs. Butterworth for me) on it, it nearly takes it over the ‘I’m so rich and ooey gooey sweet I want to roll in you all day’ feeling. But, it depends on what mood you’re in I guess. I like to have one slice with syrup, and one with sprinkled powdered sugar on it.

There you have it. My diabolical plan to thwart dieters everywhere. As long as you’re at it, fry up some bacon to go with it. Live a little. Unless you have silly high cholesterol and will blame me for having a heat attack. Only in that case, skip the bacon.

Bad Dreams and Britney Spears

Britney Spears really is a bad dream all in herself.  She really should have stopped with the Mickey Mouse Club.  I’d really like to state the fact that, if the news stopped broadcasting her, she’d be long forgotten before anyone knew it.  No one really cares about it.  It’s not like she’s Jackie Kennedy. 
Enough about Britney.  Do you ever have those bad dreams that are so inane and stupid that you wonder if you were secretly force fed Spam before you went to sleep?  I know I do.  And I seriously hope I was never forced to eat Spam.  Just the thought of it kind of makes me want to drown myself in puff pastry to just forget it.  That’s really not a bad way to go though, drowning in puff pastry.  I can think of worse things.  Anyway, isn’t it weird that some things seem so scary in dreams, and then you wake up, still scared, and then think about it, and realize that you’re literally shaking in bed because you had a dream about the scariest teddy bear in history?  I once had a scary dream about an apple tree.  As it turns out, it wasn’t that scary.  It couldn’t even do all of those scary tree things, like move its branches and suffocate you, like in scary tree movies.  It was just standing there.  And it was frightening damnit. 
Personally, I think that stupid dreams that are so very frightening while they’re happening, are spawned from horrible movie trailers.  Like Lake Placid 2.  I saw that one yesterday, damn those gargantuan sized rabid alligators.  In the trailer, the killer alligator was roughly the size of Lake Placid itself.  And really, if you wanted to go out for a boat ride, or go swimming, would you really choose to go swimming in a lake that was actually a hungry alligator that thinks human is its favorite meal?  I hope not.  The most disturbing thing about it though… is that it’s the second one.  Which brings me to think about Fox and When Animals Attack parts 1-17,400.  I think they’ve had so many of them, that there’s now footage about an angry guinea pig that bit a kids finger. 

I guess my ultimate decision is… turn off the television, and then I won’t encounter any more scary apple trees. 

Bad Dreams and Britney Spears