I'm a Butthead.

So I was a total butthead and didn't get my piece to the Halloween show on time. I feel like a jerk. Sorry, Bran.

If it makes him feel better, I haven't had time to do anything lately. Between new job, school, changes in the schedule, stupid professors, and Jupiter getting sick for those couple of days...I just don't know.

My brain hurts. My neck hurts.

My computer's still not back from when Best Buy kidnapped it. I'm thinking of calling the police.

Here's something more than a little distressing: PUMPKIN SHORTAGE. Is this just canned pumpkin or what, people? Because pretty soon, I am going to be craving some turkey-pumpkin chili. I must have the gourd.

I'm going to do a series of x-posts from the old LJ account, just so I can have a continuum. But right now...I'm going to go home and make a big pot of potato soup.

Oh my, things have been busy.

I'm switching my garb from LiveJournal to this thing. LiveJournal is dead to me. Dead.

Water, water everywhere - and those damn boards did shrink...

Hm.

I was going to make this big post about the stuff I'm working on for the PoMoNoBo Halloween Art Show, and about school and the first week and all that stuff....but then I started listening to Iris DeMent, and now I just want to throw up and die.

An arm's just an arm 'til it's wrapped 'round a shoulder
Boots side-by-side, they go stepping out together;
A note's just a note 'til you wake from your slumber,
And dare to discover the new melody.

Oh, sweet is the melody so hard to come by;
It's so hard to make every note run just right.
You lay down the hours, and leave not one trace,
But a tune for the dancing is there in its place.

G-Damn It.

When It Goes Away.

The day I left Tennessee, Knoxville proved to be a place that should immediately be nuked and started from scratch. I haven't heard too many good things from there lately, and my optimism that the people I love who still live there can pull out of the mire they've created is starting to wane, and quickly.

I spent the evening yesterday sharing a beer with a raging ketamine addict. Before you judge the wisdom of such an action, as I have already judged it thoroughly myself, it was pretty funny. Kind of like a Dostoevsky novel.

Other things, other things. I had my first ever trip to a laundromat. It was not very exciting. The leafy-green spendin money dwindles and dwindles. I may get a job at Williams-Sonoma, which will complete my whiteness. I no longer have a garden. Jupiter is not happy here, and the jury's still out with me. Although I will say that the loneliness I feel - the loneliness that I have - is forcing me into a more than a few intensely introspective moments, in which I have to wonder: what am I doing here? Why am I talking to this ketamine addict? And why, in the wake of my departure, and in all my teary goodbyes and my wonderful friends whom I miss deeply, do I feel rendered so unlovable myself?

Tomatoes aren't even in up here yet. Some guy down the street has a bucket of romas growing, and they're not even pink. Hard little green knots still. It is a culture shock.

My birthday is Wednesday.

Mehitabel Moves Out.

Hey Laaadiiiess,
originally uploaded by The Rat Bat.

This is Mehitabel. She was the first pet of my own that I got when I moved out of the dorms and into my first apartment. When we got her, she had half a tail and a gimp foot from where it had gotten strangulated by un-shed skin.

The foot and the tail both grew back, and today, she got a new home.

Goodbye and Godspeed, you salty old wench, you.

Trick S'mores.

I watched "Cook Yourself Thin" on LifeTime a couple of times, and have been thinking up tricky ways to get people to eat healthier! Here's a quick recipe for those smart-ass kids that are always wanting S'mores! Shut up, kids, it's time for you to learn a lesson in NUTRITION!

I call these F'MORES! because they're Fake s'MORES, and when you give one to those mewling little brat kids, not one of them will ever ask you F'MORE!

1) Get a Wasa whole-grain flatbread. There is fiber!
2) Put on the "chocolate"! (tricky secret #1: it's BEANS!)
3) Add the "marshmallow"! (tricky secret #2: it's CHEESE!!!!!!!!)
4) Put that shit in the microwave, smash it all together, and ENJOY A F'MORE!


Alright, you got me. I'm poor, I had leftover beans and a whole lot of nothing else in the cupboards. I made some quick refried beans and did this up for a quick and sad little lunch one day.

Wasa flatbreads, though, I need to sing the praises of for a moment - they're relatively cheap, they've got bookoo good nutrition in them, and they are tasty with so, so many delicious things. Hummus, yes. I made BLT Wasa with turkey bacon and homegrown German Queens hijacked from my parents garden - so good. A little tomato sauce, cheese and toppings = quick pizza.

Truly, the Wasa flatbread is my new pep-pep.

Apartmented.

Pearl Street at Dusk in the Snow,
originally uploaded by found_drama.

I am the proud tenant of 9 Greene, one of the more bizarre apartments I have ever seen. There's a grett big kitchen, tiny l'il ol' living room...but the party...the real party...is in the loft.

Oh, you'll just have to see it.

And Jupiter will definitely have to start doing drills to be able to hoof it up them stairs. Or if not, maybe we can rig up some sort of dumbwaiter-type thing.

Now all this is starting to come together.

So if you're perusing blogs in the blog-o-sphere, and you happen upon this blog, consider it a message in a bottle! The Rat Bat is coming to Vermont, and would love love LOVE to meet you!