Its a Right Hand World. Plus, A Toilet.

I feel like I need to apologize to every left handed person in the world. Being of your ranks, even though it is only for a short period of time, I understand what a pain in the ass trying to make use of things designed for people with a dominant right hand is.

Holy crap!

And, speaking of crap, I do believe that I've found my new toilet for my upcoming bathroom renovation. For a bowl that is only ever supposed to be filled with unmentionable nasties, it sure is cute. And, in the grand scheme of toilet costs, reasonably priced.
















PS: I am still aghast at the prices of toilets. And the fact that there are people out there willing to spend $5000 on a bowl that you shit into.

Hello Random!

Random One - The Fashion

I am bidding on a BCBG skirt that I am a little in love with via EBay. Longing? Check. Making plans for us for the future? Check. Starry-eyed adoration? Definately getting there.




















Unfortunately, my love is conditional, and my maximum bid is rather low. I fear that I will be out-bid in the final hours and we shall never be able to run across a meadow, into each other's arms. But I am of the mind that if I can't get it for a song on EBay, I might as well just mosey on into a store and pay full price.

Three days, and we will know if fate has been kind. Hope for us, children. Hope lovely things for our lovely future.

***
Random Two - The Soap Opera

Dr Noah Drake needs a new liver. And is also now spouting lines like, "I will not let them waste a perfectly good liver on me!". In other General Hospital news, Luke Spencer is now the proud papa of a monkey. Who wear clothes.

Listen, they had me with Rick Springfield. The monkey? THEY HAVE ME FOR LIFE.

PS: I wore my monkey shoes to work today.


***

Random Three - The Peanut Butter

I made cinnamon peanut butter from scratch this weekend, then I pressured my workmates to eat some. Does that make me a bad person?

Oh, 1992. You Were a Vintage Year.

So much so that I will be revisiting you in weeks to come!

In support of upcoming birthday celebrations, my friend Monica (twisted backstory: used to be best friend, broke up 6 or 7 years ago (dude, that time thing - it stops mattering when you start to measure them in years) because we became different people with different priorities, reconnected last year because, uh, we're now different people with different priorities?) and I will begin the celebration part of the birthday part, hers being the day before mine, by being in the audience when Evan Dando plays a wee bar in a town smack dab in the middle of the cities that we live in.

Oh, Evan Dando, how I had dreams of marrying you. And yet, the hilarity of my consistent back-turning ignoring of you on the few times that we met continues to be stuff of legend. Which is probably for the best, because had we married, the crack and heroin? Well, that would have had to stop. And then you would've lied about it, and we would've argued, and you would've chosen the junk and I would've dumped your ass. So its all for the best.

PS: The pterodactyl bar? Has a goddamn delightful heated bite!

Ask and Ye Shall Receive

Chocolate arrived at my door this afternoon. Chocolate! At my door! And all because my co-workers are lovely, amazing, crazy people.

Chocolate delivery had been attempted on Friday, unfortunately, I was out at my Fracture Clinic appointment, and the courier needed a signature. The notice of delivery, however, specified that the shipper included the word "Chocolate" in its name, and I've been all a-twitter ever since.

Inside the package was a selection of Dagoba Organic Chocolate bars. Selection! Organic. I am beside myself, and in total confusion over where to start my tasting. I have a feeling, however, that the Xocolatl will be the one with the loudest, most insistant voice. Oh, the days to come. They will be good. They will indeed.

PS: There is a Creampuff skulking about my office. I wonder how long it will take for her to don a Castro cap and initiate rumblings of a revolution.

But What if I Need to Cut a Bitch?

Thankfully, unlike Kimora Lee Simmons, the need to cut a bitch has never come up in my life. Which is good, since I still can't work a knife.

Lack of bitch cutting ability aside, things are looking up in my latest injury saga. On Friday, my orthopedic surgeon pronounced the crack in my radius quite wee. In fact, he decided against casting it up and gave me a new splint instead.

Regard my new, fight the future, swollen like a son of a bitch mummy hand:






























The good doctor's prognosis sees the crack healing up in two to three weeks time. Hot, and also, damn. Want to know what the funny thing is, though? The hurty bits in my wrist have naught to do with the placement of the crack, but instead are localized in all of that tissue that connect my badass hand (it can be quite rude, sometimes) to my wrist. Holding things of any weight makes it yelp, and don't even think about asking it to move from side to side, or to rotate. However, things hurt less then yesterday, which hurts less then the day before, and again and again and again. I reckon I'll be back to doing the queen wave (Why, Helloooooooooooo!), not to mention making threats of bitch cutting, in no time.

Meanwhile, it's excellent to be able to type with my right hand again. And I'm slowly but surely making myself become ambidextrious. I'll be a whirling, two handed knife wheeling dervish when this is all over and done with!

Things that might have been embarrasing if it was anyone else but me:

• Before leaving the emergency room on Tuesday, I had to ask a triage nurse to zip up my coat for me. Hi! I three!
• That evening, I had to call my mom and dad over to my place to CUT UP FOOD FOR ME. Hi! I three!

I swear, being injured leads to the most excellent, snort-worthy tableaux.

I Have a Mummy Arm

Because its about time for a new injury blog post.

Fell on ice, broke fall first with hand then with ass. Small crack in right wrist. Splinted. Fracture clinic will decide whether to cast it up on Friday. Guess who's also working from home for the next few days?

Why, yes, I AM right handed!

Send me chocolates to make it okay, please.

Deluring Week. Who Knew?

Apparently, not me, 'cause I've only caught the last day. But anyway, the skulking in the shadows? It's supposed to stop, for this week only. Which is excellent, because I am nosey and have wanted to do a roll-call for AGES.

So I put up this button with a cute wee pooch, and hope that it'll trick you into responding.

Delurk week, brought to you by Paper Napkin, via, Kate, via Rose.

Is This The First Real Food Post of 2006?

Why, I think it is!

Excellent.

My devotion to the food stylings (food stylings!) of Susur Lee has been well document. Sometimes, too much, I think, but I feel the need to recap anyway. Last year, I decided that I needed to mark my 31st birthday with something excellent and special. And I decided that I needed to do so, accompanied by my oldest friend Brad, by partaking in a food stuffing feast of the highest degree. And I decided that we needed to experience the tasting menu at Susur. Brad and I spent the next two months congratulating each other on being clever enough to sit through that meal. When Brad's birthday rolled around, we went to lunch at Lee, Susur's second restaurant, located next door to Susur. And next month, Brad and I will be returning to Susur because, goddamnit, my 32nd birthday needs to be celebrated with another go at the vegetarian 5 course tasting menu.

And on to today. But first, last year: the final quarter of 2005 was the living place of a particularly frustrating project. In order to celebrate project completion sans corpses, my boss and I decided that we needed to reward ourselves with an excellent lunch. Today, we did just that at Lee.

We entered the restaurant, and the host promptly disappeared my coat, and seated us at one of Lee's excellent transparent rose coloured Plexiglas tables, coincidently, the same seat where Brad and I celebrated his birthday last year. Our server explained our menu options and left us to decide over sparkling mineral water. Lee, helmed by ex-Susur sous chef Jason Carter, rides the wave of tapas-style service, and gives its guests the option to order absolutely nothing, and leave the responsibility of the decision making up to the chef. Like Susur, Lee accommodates vegetarian diets admirably, and though I encouraged Mr. L to feel free to order meat-based dishes for himself, we ended up letting the chef send us out a mess of vegetarian dishes. Oh, the surprise, it is delightful, no?

The rundown...

Singapore Slaw: As always, Lee's Singapore Slaw is one of my top ten favourite things in the world. IN THE WORLD. 19 vegetables, citrus-based dressing, tossed at the table by a guy who, I swear, is the only person in the room allowed to touch the dish as it makes its way from kitchen to table.

Asparagus Salad, dressed with Mustard Seed, Daikon, Green Onion and Hazelnut Oil Dressing: The asparagus, quickly blanched, had an amazing colour, and a lovely snap. The dressing was tangy and delicious. I only wish that the spears could've been left to marinate in the dressing for just a few more minutes before they were served, because those suckers at the bottom of the bowl? Freaking awesome. The bits at the top? A wee bit bland.

Mexican Goat Cheese Tart with Figs, Black Olives and Basil: Melty! In the mouth! Spicy! On the tongue! And so very happy to be in my belly. I freaking love goat cheese, and the pastry base was so tender, it started to dissolve the minute it hit my tongue. Oh, man.

Mushroom Dumpling Gratain with Red Pepper, Olives, Capers and Feta: Okay, the gratainy-bits with the peppers, olives, capers and feta was really lovely. The mushroom filling in the dumpling could've used more attention with the herbs and spices. And the dumpling dough, while excellent around the edges was a bit too thick every where else.

Thai Baked Lentil with Paneer, Spinach, Coconut and Polenta: I like my dal with a nice angry Indian-spice bite. This one? A bit too gentle and laid back for my tastes. I postulate that the lentils were lulled into a dairy coma from the paneer and just couldn't put up the kind of fight that they're capable of.

All in all, I was pleased, and left with a belly distended by a verra good meal.

The end.

A Decision Has Been Made - And It's All Project Runway's Fault

Or, as the kids say, "Less Talk, More Rock".

The excellent and hilarious Project Runway has returned to the airways, and I couldn't be happier. I also couldn't feel more humbled. Watching the joy and passion that these people have in their work amazes me. And makes me realize that I am slack-ass and scared. And that's just not something I care to admit.

Dammit, I have felt that love and that passion for making things with my hands. And what did I do? Run away from making the next, difficult step. Spend time developing an unholy fascination with celebrities who act like assholes. Pretend that the art, though admittedly silly, isn't important to me. That is didn't make me happy. That I couldn't, maybe, possibly, convince people that I didn't already know to buy a piece of it.

So right - it's super easy to make a decision to do something, but it's just as easy to pretend that the decision? It didn't happen. So I post for posterity and to keep my ass honest: Over the next couple of months, I'm going to build up my freaking portfolio. And then? Then I'm going to shop it around. Dammit.


PS: Even though I will never even to attempt to design a piece of clothing in my lifetime, I wish for Tim Gunn to be my mentor. In freaking anything. That man knows his shit, and tells it like it is, baby.











"Don't defend the shoe!"

Wine at work!

Well, not really wine, but Wine Kit Kats.





















Dude, I KNOW.


A co-worker brought in a wee box of them this afternoon, straight from Japan via Chinatown. Do they taste like wine? Not so much. Perhaps as it approaches your tastebuds, but after that, it's just a pleasant, but strange, sweet taste of white chocolate that really doesn't taste as cloying as white chocolate usually does, enrobing a very thin wafer.

I am now obsessed with the other flavours of Kit Kat that the Nestle company has unleashed on the world. I am currently jonsin' for Kit Kat Cherry (limited edition US), Kit Kat Double Berry (blueberry and strawberry, Japan), Kit Kat Lemon Cheesecake (limited edition Japan), and Kit Kat White Winter zimt (cinammon, Germany).

Who would like to join me on my candy fact-finding travel mission?

Oops, I almost forgot: Rose tagged me on a blog topic, but it's going to take some time, 'cause right now I'm all, "Ha, all I ever do on this here sucker is confess all of my facets o' wierd".

The Ulimate Melissa Machine

Who knew that a randomizer program could be so astute? PS: Randomizer!

Anyway. Here is a gratuitous picture of piglets. Competitvely swimming. From the fine folks at Cute Overload.



















So intent on the finish, I doubt they are even able to enjoy the journey.

I miss swimming. Unfortunately, two things keep me away from it:

• Without some kind of lense in front of my eyeballs, I am a walking danger-zone. And I have yet to meet a goggle that didn't cut off circulation to my brain and result in headaches the size of Texas. Where, I hear, everything is big. And I don't relish inadvertantly becoming the crazy lady who makes knew friends by equally inadvertantly suggestively bumping into other swimmers while doing laps. Laps. Suggestive in itself, no?
• I gots me some excellent hair, for once in my life. And the chlorine? Oy.

I reckon I shant ever be able to challenge a piglet to a swim-off. But on a bike? Dude, I'd win every time.

Sting Cannot Possibly Be the Same Guy Who Was in The Police

Atom and His Package had it right, kids. Sting ISN'T the guy who was in the Police. Bon Jovi ISN'T the same band who released 7800 Fahrenheit (definitative shark jump = Keep the Faith), and Def Leppard hasn't been the band that recorded Pyromania in a good bargazillion years.

The latest travesty that Def Leppard is releasing upon us is. A. Cover. Album. Of glam rock. A cover album! Just like Mandy Moore! And Paul Anka!

Please, make them just stop.

PS: I pretty much adore Mandy Moore and Paul Anka. Is that wrong?

Snakes on a Plane, Bitch!

Today's MSNBC Test Pattern column celebrates the horrific awesomeness that is Snakes on a Plane.

When I read about this incredible piece of Samuel L Jackson movie magic, this is what happened:

Melissa: GODDAMN!
Melissa jumps on Snakes on a Plane bandwagon without hesitation.

Snakes! On a plane! I said, GODDAMN! (see above).

I now wish to wear only this t-shirt until the film's premiere.





















Someone, please make that happen.

Also?















In other news, I walked into my office to find a bag of excellent chocolates on my desk. It's going to be a good year, I reckon.

This year, my department's pillars o' pillary stuff are as follows: Evolution (perhaps into robots. The possibilities excite me); Quality (this falls into my lap. More on that later); Content (Well, der.)

I am pleased because I can now tell people that I am Inspector #12, and amoungst the other things I do, I'm responsible for putting "Inspected by #12" stickers in Fruit of the Loom underwear.

Back in the Saddle

When I was a wee baby, I used to want to grow up to be a horse. And that is completely apropos of NOTHING. Apparently, I like my confessions random and stupid. Who knew?

After an extended absence, I head back into work tomorrow. I was putting together my mountain of food to bring to work tomorrow, and packing up my computer and books to bring in as well, and it struck me that, goddamn, I've been away for a long, long time.

And you know what? I'm so very ready to be back. Attack my projects with a vengence, I will. Because recharged batteries, I have. And boy, are the kids at work going to be sorry for that when the random chatter starts up from my side of the room.

I can see it now..."Hey, you know what? Yesterday, I saw a car that looked like it was smiling. It made me wonder what it was so happy about. I came to the conclusion that it was playing a really good song that reminded it of that time it went on a really good first date".

Sometimes I fear that my brain may be broken. But then? Then I snicker and go on with life.