I accidentally bought reduced-fat ice cream. Why does such an abomination exist? Also, why doesn’t Target make it clearer that the stuff you are buying is reduced-fat bullshit? I’ve accidentally bought reduced-fat cheese before too. I don’t like reduced-fat because it just means extra other crap that’s also bad for you. Reduced-fat but loads more sugar and salt to make up for the lack of fat, that’s what they need to put on the label.
Don’t worry though, I made up for the reduced-fat by dumping some leftover hot fudge I had taking up space in the refrigerator from a dessert I made for Family Dinner awhile ago.
Tonight for Family Dinner I made chocolate chip cookie bars. They are really good. They should be, because they contain 12 tablespoons of butter. Can something with that much butter, and chocolate chips be bad? I don’t think so.
So, moments ago, I was crushed by my current TV crush, CJ Cregg on “The West Wing,” busting out a bunch of racist anti-affirmative action bullshit. Damn you, Aaron Sorkin, don’t wreck her for me.
Here’s a picture of my cat in a box.
I took that picture after rousing myself from a mid-afternoon nap. I napped from the Ferris’ clarinet honking until Cameron says “Ferris Bueller you’re my hero.” The only reason I got up was to make the aforementioned cookie bars. I could have slept for another seventy-seven years. I’m tired.
Also crampy and crabby. I spent most of the morning making a new banner for I Will Dare and cursing my stupid uterus. It was the most productive-like, mindless thing I could think of doing. After that I stared at The Beast for an hour or so and pretended like I was going to write some words, but instead I listened to Weezer’s blue album (which is turning twenty this year, you old fart).
My ADD/crabbiness this weekend has been a total bummer. It’s one of those hormone-induced funks that finds me hating all the things. The books and the music and the TV and the fact that I have to breathe and my skin itches and my hair hurts and my socks are bugging me and why is everyone so stupid?
A fucking joy, I tell you.
The “It’s (Insert Day of Week) and I’m Boring” is a series that Christa and I do to pay homage to the beauty of old-school blogging. (I totally copied this nice explanation from Christa).