In this post, we’ll be discussing the weirdass food product that my mom brought home from the grocery store. It is a Peep Pop. Yes, you heard that correctly. It’s 4 peeps with a dowel rod jammed up through them all. They kind of look like a Peep version of the Human Centipede; though not quite as gross.
Well, I actually detest Peeps. Mom might be losing it because she was shocked when I revealed this fact. No matter, I do know of a use for them. I use them to make s’mores! I call them Peepmores cause that’s how I roll.
So you start with the basic ingredients. Graham Crackers. I prefer to go with the more traditional honey graham flavour. Some chocolate, Hershey’s is just easy to find (I live very close to some of the plants and I used to work at Hershey Park). If you’re using Hershey’s, you want half a bar, fits over the graham cracker. Obviously we’re substituting a Peep for a standard marshmallow. I also have an awesome little s’more maker (Micro S’Mores brand).
Let’s go through the process, though I’m sure everyone and their mom can make s’mores. The s’more maker, all clean and pretty:
Then you stack your ingredients! Cracker, chocolate, Peep, and cracker. This is why the s’more maker is fucking awesome. the square bit in the middle helps to keep the top cracker from slipping and causing a huge gooey mess when the marshmallow expands in the microwave. And it’s fun squishing the marshmallows with the pushy handle on the top.
Microwave for roughly 15-20 seconds (microwave ovens vary, just remember it doesn’t take much to get marshmallow gooey in a microwave). The final result is a great gooey s’more with just a touch of the crunchy Peep outside. And thus, a Peepmore is born!
*Admittedly, I should have used a more colourful Peep for the job, but the yellow one was the easiest to remove from the dowel.*
If you’re a fan of the old Doctor Who series, you may remember the Nicholas Courtney, who played Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart for 40 long years alongside six Doctors on both the show and in the audio dramas. Dude was keeping Earth safe from aliens far longer than any of the other incarnations of the Doctor. RIP good sir.
Going to share a piece of something I just tweeted. I think it really does sum up my feelings right now:
Dancing with my inner demons. They know how to boogie.
I actually *like* when I go downhill. I don’t get suicidal anymore, I haven’t for a long time (thankfully), so it’s a nice change from manic which I am most of the time. These are the times when I’m best able to be honest with myself and sort my head out. So, I’m going to go do that now. I hope they can cha-cha!
I love blocking out story ideas, but I hate that blocking them out is really all I can do. Making notations of characters and settings, but knowing that when I’m done with that, I can’t touch it. Why? Because if I do, it’ll end up in the folder of, “Shit I started but never finished.” I’m not mentally there yet, I know that much. I keep hoping that I can get my focus back. I have all these ideas, but I know that I’ll get all ADD and never finish them. I have two ideas going right now that I refuse to try and write because I just can’t see them go into the bin of things unfinished.
Of all the issues my bipolar causes, that one is the worst. The rest of it I don’t give a damn about; it’s my lack of focus that kills me. :( As it stands I have a historical fiction about Elizabeth Bathory started; researched. fully blocked and several of the first chapters and the ending written. Hell, when my last computer puked and the hard drive was corrupted I freaked out because I hadn’t backed the whole file up. I managed to save it. I also have a silly/fun sci-fi story in mind and a more serious sci-fi mystery blocked out. Those are the two I refuse to touch. I was so into the Bathory story and all of a sudden just couldn’t make myself sit still. It breaks my heart knowing I may never finish it and that’s why I refuse to get down to business with the other two. I can only take so much heartbreak.
Ah well, back to blocking that sci-fi mystery and dreaming of the day I’ll be able to shut myself away in a room and get down to business with it.
Whilst driving home from the grocery store the other night, I had a random realization.
For years I believed in some form of deity or deities. From Catholic to Christian to Pagan, there was a constant searching for what felt right, what I could truly believe in. It took me some time before I realized that what I truly believe in is this life, science, and good deeds. Not good deeds because some invisible sky wizard told me to, but because it feels nice doing something good.
I’m getting off topic, so let’s steer back to it. The main point I was trying to make is that for all those years I tried so hard to fit into a box of belief that I was in constant turmoil, questioning, and unease. It wasn’t until I finally let all of that go and embraced my lack of faith that I feel true inner calm.
I have a new set of eyes to watch the world go by. I no longer take a single moment for granted because I know that these days are all we have. I try to make those moments count. In a way, I was saved… from religion itself.
I’ve had MANY problems with our local CBS affiliate CBS21. They’ve written such headlines as, “Her and her boyfriend stole $15,000 worth of jewelry, from her mom” which I had to comment on, it was just so much of a slap in the face to the English language:
”“Her and her boyfriend”?! Does anyone on your staff proofread anything or know 4th grade grammar? I’ll throw you a freebie here:”Woman and boyfriend allegedly steal $15,000 worth of jewelry from woman’s mother.”They’ve not been tried or sentenced yet, therefore they allegedly committed the crime. The way it is written by your station implies guilt that has not been proven in a court of law. An arrest is not proof of guilt.
In the article itself, I found quite a few errors. Such as, using “bucks” instead of dollars, “had been allowed to be inside” instead of “had been allowed inside,” and “first block of South Charles Street” which calls into question, what is the “first” block? Would it be so hard to fact check and see if it’s the 100 block or 300 block?
Come on people, this stuff is journalism 101! This is what’s wrong with journalism today. Nothing but laziness and rushing instead of doing quality reporting. If this is the quality you settle for when you hire, I could use a job.”
They looked like assholes to anyone who reads their Facebook feed and roughly an hour later changed the headline to: “Daughter allegedly stole jewelry from her own mom”
A few days later I was treated to this gem: “Car into building, at least 1 dead” Huh? My reply was shorter this time, but I had to say something. I mean, for fuck sake, there’s not even a VERB in there!
"Oh CBS21… You guys are just the WORST at proofing and/or writing ANYTHING. ‘Car into building’ … uhm, the car is doing WHAT exactly into the building? I’m going to guess driving, but who knows, it could be tap dancing!"
Now, today, they went to a WHOOOOLE other level of stupid. The good old, “the picture doesn’t match the story,” game! Yay! Here’s a screenshot and link:
I know when I see hearts, I totally think of domestic violence. How about you?
"This was to be an away game for humanity, I realized as I walked onto the slightly-smaller-than-regulation Jeopardy! set that had been mocked up in the building’s main auditorium. In the middle of the floor was a huge image of Watson’s on-camera avatar, a glowing blue ball crisscrossed by “threads” of thought—42 threads, to be precise, an in-joke for Douglas Adams fans. The stands were full of hopeful IBM programmers and executives, whispering excitedly and pumping their fists every time their digital darling nailed a question. A Watson loss would be invigorating for Luddites and computer-phobes everywhere, but bad news for IBM shareholders.”
"So I got a great wake-up this morning. Wasn’t feeling too hot (it’s really damp here, which my back is not overly fond of), so I was just killing a little time at the PC this morning, thinking that maybe I’d go in late to school if my back felt better later (took pills, go me). Anyway, I hear shouting outside, so I throw on a shirt and look out my front door. At first I thought it was a fender bender or something, cause two cars were stopped and my neighbour was standing on the road talking to the person in the first car. Wouldn’t have surprised me, it wouldn’t even be the first time that someone skidded off the road in wet or icy weather toward said neighbours’ house. Well, long story short, it wasn’t an accident with cars. It was an accident with COWS. Yes, you read that correctly, COWS. "
"I need to stop looking at life in a way that I see my age as a negative. I’m not "already 25," for the love of all things holy! I’m ONLY 25! Maybe that was geriatric back in the dark ages where you were married off and a mom by 15, but not now. And even if I wouldn’t even make it to 30 or 40, it really doesn’t matter. Why should I kill myself emotionally and mentally over not accomplishing EVERYTHING when I’m only 1/4 of the ‘average’ lifetime? To bring back an old saying I over-used in the past: F*CK THAT NOISE! I’m not about to go down that road anymore. As long as things keep going the way the are, I think I’ll be just fine."
Found an old journal, so I might post snippets here and there with the Wayback Files title for clarity. Tonight’s thought comes to you from November of 2007 during a very idealistic and optimistic period of time.
"There’s something crazy-wow about standing outside, looking up at the beautiful and bright full moon; teeth chattering from the cold, jacket forgotten hours and hours before, and just smiling up at the sky, arms wide-open, and feeling as light as the breeze stinging your cheeks."
It’s been about four and a half months since the puppies were born. I honestly can’t believe it’s been that long, but the calendar tells me that it has been. Both are doing really well with commands and tricks. Each are good at certain things that the other isn’t, but they’ve been picking things up from each other. Momma dog, Hooch, is doing well. Her hair has finally grown back (they ripped a lot of it out while nursing) and she’s more energetic. For her age when she had them, I’m so glad that she’s recovered so well. The vet even raised an eyebrow when he asked the mother’s age. That’s my Oochie!
I’m not going to yammer on about the puppies, but I did want to post some current pictures of the boys. I actually took these a few hours ago, so they’re super-fresh current.
That would be my handsome little Number One, Riker, above. He looks so much like his mom!
A rare photo of K-9 just hanging out and not bouncing off the walls. He’s a firecracker! He actually looks like a crazy blend of Rope and Hooch.
And a silly one of K-9. I’m posting it because it made me laugh when I was browsing the pictures and saw it. :)
If I Had a Factory Full of Fucks, I Still Wouldn't Give Any...
Saw my pdoc today. Blah. It’s just getting annoying now and I’m sick of playing musical dosages.
It makes me feel like I’m visiting with a friend who has an annoying little brat and that brat will only play one game. He/she makes you play, if you refuse they whine. If you play, it’ll be the same game for hours and hours.
BLAH. I’m sick of hearing, “well, let’s up this dosage and cut this one back,” in a fuck-ton of variations. Today it was, “Let’s up your lithium and lower your remeron and let’s keep the lamictal right where it’s at.” I’m going to end up a zombie soon. At least the weather is supposed to be really nice this week. Fresh air and some sunshine will help clear away the funk I’m in.
Anyway, this isn’t supposed to be a wah-wah-woe-is-me post, so here’s a picture of Bruce Willis being his epic, badass self:
Your... profile picture... *jaw drops*... *rapid pulse*... *instant delirium*... *tightening of pants*... *gradually wakes up from beauty coma*...
Um, that is to say, it looks very nice. Very nice indeed. :-)
Flattery will get you EVERYWHERE with me ;)
Thanks babe. I’m just glad it’s red! I ran out of hair colour and ended up with 80s Prom Bomb Peach coloured hair. A forgotten bottle of dye was discovered a few days ago. There was much rejoicing ;D
My Life's a Bargain Basement... All the Good Shit's Gone
Having one of “those” days today, but I was in one of those rare (lately) moods where I really wanted to get some of the crazy out. I tried doodling a bit, but the pen felt wrong in my fingers, so I decided to ride the bi-polarcoaster for a bit and free write. Just write all the weird shit that is usually an internal monologue. So, if you care to read, be my guest.
There’s no escape. Then again escape is overrated. That’s me, hipster-mental case. What can I say? Sanity is so mainstream. No sleep tonight, well, at least that’s my forecast. Cloudy with a chance of bitter self-resentment. Actually, it feels more like a reminisce kind of thing. I think the reason I don’t like to let go of the past is because I can’t see any decent future in store for me and if I let the past go, I let that other me behind. The me I miss being with every ounce of my being. With every fiber of me. There are some things that are better about who I am today, but I’m so far from where I wanted to be. Why can’t I just rewind to 2003 and gone on from there. Scott and I just togoether, college and optimist dreams all around us. Before I turned into what I am now. Sure, what I am now didn’t happen over night, but it did happen in a relatively short time. Sometimes I just wonder if finding help was worth the way I’ve felt for so long now. To be honest, I miss me. Yes, I was a total crazy manic, but I was a crazy manic who at least had some self esteem. I might come across as having so much confidence, but I really don’t. That’s the honest truth. I’m just faking it. Mimicking that former self that could make friends in 20 minutes no matter where you put her.
I saw a picture the other day from high school. A friend had posted it on Facebook and seeing those pictures was so bittersweet. It was nice to remember those times, but like a knife in the heart. The worst was seeing myself smiling. I haven’t smiled in a long, long time. Not the smile I want to smile. I actually mean that literally. Since my teeth have gotten so bad because of that damn medical problem that ruined so much of my teen years, I am so self concious when I smile or talk. Imagine what it would be like at 28 yeras old to know that you can’t afford to fix your teeth so you just have to wait until you can pull them all out and get dentures. Sometimes I dream that somehow I find a way to get my teeth fixed, meet a really nice dentist who offers to do it pro bono or someone calls a talk show where they surprise me with a smile makeover. I know those things will never happen, but I can’t help but think it. I miss smiling. I feel like a toothless redneck most days. And before anybody tries to bullshit like my therapist did, it IS really noticable. Thankfully, I have friends who are HONEST with me. Sad isn’t it? My friends will tell me these things, but my therapist won’t. She insists that you can’t even notice it unless it’s pointed out. She’s a fucking tool. Either that or blind. Maybe she’s just a blind tool? I had to photoshop teeth into my wedding picture. Pretty fucking sad, huh? Is it any wonder with all that running around in my head that’s hard to keep up the self-ass-patting? I’m amazed I can pull myself together enough to leave the house half of the time.
I don’t have any clue how my husband can be attracted to me. I feel so repulsive most days that it’s not that I don’t *want* to have sex with my husband, it’s that I can’t imagine just how in the hell he can find the idea even remotely appetizing in the first place and that depresses me and then I just say, “to hell with it.” and that’s where it ends. Poor guy probably has blue balls at least once a month because of that. It’s opposite, oddly enough, to when we first got together and I was constantly pestering him for sex and he’d say no. I never had to worry about guys being all up my case to get laid because I would usually beat them to the punch, so it’s really weird to have a guy bugging me for sex. I kind of get why my ‘normal’ girl counterparts are such bitches about it after awhile. Frankly, he could do so much better than me. Sometimes I almost wish, as much as it would hurt, that he’d find someone who deserves him and can make him happy in ways I can’t. Someone without all the crazy and baggage. Someone who can give him kids and a family. I don’t know that I ever will be able to give him that. I feel like I’m holding him back from the life he really wants; not just this one that he puts up with.
So this started a bit ago, writing this that is, I’ve been doing my best to only watch my fingers and avoid editing and rechecking a million times WHILE writing it. Hopefully this will help me to actually get down to it when I finally try to crank out that novel I have burning inside me to come out. That’s the worst part of this whole goddamned bipolar nightmare; I have all these IDEAS and no way to get them out. Sure I have fits and starts, but never can I stick with it. I wish I could be one of those people with focus. I mean, REAL focus. Well, if I do ever manage to get a decent book published I can pat myself on the back for the fact that I managed to write a whole novel with a stunning case of ADD from hell. Sometimes I toy with the idea of turning all these ridiculous rambles and rants into something, but I think blogging them is as far as I can see myself going with it. On those nights when I need a little word vomit to empty my brain. I’ve actually missed nights like this. I know I don’t have great focus to write anything with substance, but I have it in me to get out all the crazy that’s floating in my brain. It helsp me tune out the vaoice that’s constantly nattering on in my head about the million things I’m NOT doing or SHOULD HAVE done. The ‘shoulda-coulda-woulda’ voice, I guess.
Ok, who the fuck put Disney music on my “depressionmix” playlist? How can I stay angsty with DISNEY playing!?! It was probably me, not paying attention, who did it. So I want to kick and kiss myself all at one time. Past depressed Mandy just owned me. Fair play ghost of depression past, well played.