Thanksgiving hangover

I have been the busiest busyface in the world lately and my poor little blog has been neglected. Five dozen deviled eggs later (seriously, not lying), a pecan pie, four dozen garlic cheese biscuits, and a green bean casserole, my poor kitchen has looked like a war zone for the past week. It's just now recovering from smelling like a big egg fart.

But I have big news: we won the The Great Deviled Egg Cook-Off! Nine entries were entered and mother dearest and I emerged victorious.All nine entries - we had mostly your classic deviled eggs (which I also love), but we decided we wanted to go in a different direction with ours.

I ended up being the blind taste-test administrator, which meant I did the big set-up of the eggs with a numbering system and forfeited my vote.



Can you see the rabid look in PB's eyes? He loves eggs. He offered to come help me make them, but I told him no, as that would be like inviting Yogi Bear over to help you pack picnic baskets.

The winning recipe was for bacon ranch deviled eggs - and because I love you all, I shall now give it to you. Personally, I don't want to even see another egg for the next 15 years, but perhaps those of you who have not literally consumed about two dozen eggs in the past four days can enjoy it.

Bacon Ranch Deviled Eggs

Ingredients:
12 hard boiled eggs – peeled
4 tablespoons mayo
2 tablespoons prepared mustard
1 1/2 tablespoons powdered ranch dressing mix
2 minced green onion stalk
6 tablespoons minced bacon

Directions:
1. Cut peeled eggs in half length wise and place yolks in a mixing bowl, set the whites aside. Mash the yolks with the back of a fork and add mayo, mustard, ranch dressing mix, green onion, and bacon. Mix well.

2. Fill whites with mixture.

3. Cover and refrigerate for at least one hour before serving.

In Which We Decide It Would Be a Good Idea to Put a Car on the Porch

As you can tell, for reasons unknown to me, holidays are a big deal around here. Normally, we have a big Santa that we put on my parents' porch, along with one of their Harleys, and attach him to the ceiling with fishing line, such that it looks as if he's riding the hog. We know how to keep it classy.

But this year, we just had to outdo ourselves, so my mom ordered a big fancy new Santa (he is quite fantastic, I must say), and we decided to put him on the porch in the Amphicar. Don't ask me why we have a 1967 amphibious vehicle - just suffice it to say that we are that crazy.

You should probably watch this video just to see how ridiculous we are, and what a poor idea it is to get about 25 rednecks to attempt to put a car on your front porch. It's classic. (Also I like how I got out of working by just propping myself against the house and telling people "I'm recording this!")




Well, the end point you see in the video is as far as we ever got Santa and his darn amphibious sleigh. It just wouldn't make the turn onto the porch. But after all that (and believe me, I have like 30 more minutes of fail video, we tried seriously hard), we just decided we couldn't take it down. And actually, I think I like the end result better than having him all fixed and pretty on the side of the porch like we were shooting for.

So the reason for all the preparing and Christmas decorating and failing at getting Santa on the porch was all in the name of the Christmas parade, which is always the Saturday before Thanksgiving. I think this is silly and way too early, but 'twas ever thus and 'twill ever be so, I am certain.

Somehow I convinced PB to run the pre-parade 5k with me (his first!) and it went pretty well. By no means am I that fast, but I like running in my little slowpoke fashion and it's fun to get out and see everyone lined up and ready to watch the parade.



Please ignore the fact that I appear as if I am death's doorstep. Yes, apparently three miles is just THAT HARD, and makes me look as if I need a transfusion.

The parade was full of amazing entries such as:




If you've never had a Sun Drop (or my favorite, Diet Sun Drop, DSD for short), I am so sorry. You need to order a case, asap. It's sort of like a cross between Mountain Dew and Sprite and it is the perfect soft drink.

Also:
You have a baby...on top of a firetruck? Safety first, guys. Safety first.



What I couldn't capture was the guy in the white cowboy hat twanging out some Christmas songs and saying in a voice that sounded just like one of the Clampetts, "Y'all come on and see us now, y'hear?"

Nor the other church members riding horses and/or giant horned bulls (who are apparently somehow sedated). It was crazetastic.

Now it's on to The Great Deviled Egg Cook-Off (who has interesting/magically delicious deviled egg recipes which I could use to win this thing?) Then there will be delivering Thanksgiving dinner for Meals on Wheels, and family Thanksgiving. Lots to look forward to (including fantastical pictures, I am sure.)

Remember the Milk

As we all know, I am certainly not the world's most organized person. And by that I mean I am not organized at all. I always have little pieces of paper floating around, I'm perpetually digging for my keys, my trunk is full of crap that arrived there in high school (no joke, I know there are high school textbooks in there, I can't even bring myself to open it and look).

SO, with that in mind, if there are others of you who are similarly handicapped (really, it's a disease), I have a fantastical new thingymawhoosit for you. Bright and shiny! In time for Christmas!

It's called Remember the Milk and it is just fantastic. You can make different categories of to-do lists and they also have an awesome app to add to your Google calendar. If you have an iPhone (shut your big privileged piehole if you do, because I am 32 shades of JEALOUS), there's apparently an app for that.

Personally, I have categories for class, shopping, household things, and randomness. Really, I do call it randomness. So I stick a to-do task on there, and then RTM will send me an IM/email/SMS when it's time for my lazy hind end to do said task.

So get your lazy hind end on RTM and get some shiz done, yo. I'm going to make a Christmas to-do list this week (would it be strange to have a to-do list item that reads "make to-do list"? Probably.)

Just another little commuting sheep

Every morning (well, and afternoon, for that matter), I drive about 40 minutes to get to the law school. There are days when I don't mind my drive at all, for various reasons. I have enough time to get to school without stressing (note: this happens like twice per semester), I'm really into whatever music happens to be on the radio/my iPod, traffic doesn't suck and I can actually drive at a normal pace, and no one makes me wish I had a shotgun.

There are days, however, in which my commute makes me want to punch a nursery full of babies. There are days in which I don't allow myself nearly enough time to get to school, and that always seems to coincide with the days traffic sucks, which turns me into a big stressface. Also, I don't know why, but no matter what time I get up, I can almost NEVER get out of the house at a reasonable time, meaning that I am almost always driving like I'm flippin' Ricky Bobby in Talladega. Seriously, I am all trying to draft as I go down the interstate in the hopes that it will get me to school faster.

Further, it's always a good thing when the radio decides to play real music while I drive to school, versus all the yapping that normally goes on. I do not understand people who enjoy morning radio. Sometimes I can handle NPR, because it is all seriousface and I have ZERO sense of humor in the morning. There are all these people on the radio around here, yapping their faces off at each other and then hysterically laughing at just how hysterical they are for like 20 seconds straight. I find myself yelling at them like I'm back in 4th grade, things like "SHUT UP, STUPID, YOU ARE NOT FUNNY," and poking at the buttons on my radio as if I am poking out eyes. Can you tell I'm not a morning person?

That is one thing about being with PB - he is much more of a morning person than I am, which really increases your chances of being a homicide victim if you have to spend significant amounts of time around me. Both he and my dad are question-askers in the morning, something I do not tolerate. "What's the weather going to be like today? What should I wear? What are you going to wear? What are your plans today? What do you want for breakfast? Come watch this human-interest story on the news, isn't that nice?" OMG, NO MORE QUESTIONS. I do not have the ability to speak English at such a high level within two hours of getting up.

The one generally redeeming quality of my long drive is the chance to listen to music and sing at the top of my lungs. And there are days when every song that comes on the radio is the perfect one, or every song that comes on the iPod shuffle is just what I wanted to hear. Sometimes a Sugarland song will come on, and I am just in the perfect mood and while I'm singing I totally AM Jennifer Nettles, and I am singing to a packed house (in my imaginary perfect singing voice, which I definitely do not have). Or other times, some Michael Jackson will come on and I'm dancing on SYTCD, and I am SO GOOD. I hope other people have these music-induced fantasies, or otherwise you're all just going to think I'm a nutcase.

Christmas Against My Will

I have already gotten a ton of griping about the fact that I am already decorating for Christmas, but seriously, it is against my will. I totally agree that one should not celebrate Christmas on department store schedules, but our ridiculous town has decided that CLEARLY the most appropriate time to have the Christmas parade is the weekend before Thanksgiving. And since my parents' house is on the parade route, I feel like it's poor form to be all plain and undecorated and simultaneously have a million people over to watch the parade. You can't drink hot chocolate and watch all the marching bands, Boy Scout troops and Little-Miss-Whatevers without the Christmas junk FIRMLY IN PLACE.

Shouldn't this be my parents' responsibility, you ask? As I now have my own house and thus should not be responsible for decorating theirs? Well, yes, perhaps. But I'll just admit it: I'm something of a control freak about the Christmas tree. If the garland isn't draped exactly right, and the balance of red to gold ornaments and their distribution on the tree is incorrect, well then my panties will just be in a giant wad for the rest of the holiday season. Also, I am a Christmas tree snob. I think it's sweet that you have that ornament you made when you were in kindergarten, and those Barbie ornaments you collected for a year or two when you were ten, but KEEP THAT JUNK OFF MY TREE. Things must strictly conform to the Official Color Scheme From Which We Do Not Deviate. Also do not tell me that the Christmas tree is "no fun" if it doesn't have colored lights. NO NO. Maybe you also want to have Hamburger Helper and Vienna sausages for Christmas dinner (the quintessential trailer park supper). Maybe you also want to decorate your tree with the Elvis memorabilia you bought at the flea market. Perhaps you have been featured on peopleofwalmart.com. Colored lights = SO NOT APPROPRIATE.

So, while blaring the theme from Home Alone on repeat (you should download it if you don't have it, it's amazing), I created the final product:

TA - DAAAAAA!!!!

(close-up of The Color Scheme From Which We Do Not Deviate)

So please, do not judge me because I was responsible for the decorating of a Christmas tree on November 17th. My hands were tied.

So it's the last week of class, and I just cannot handle it anymore. I am bored of law school, bored of all my little internet distractions, CERTAINLY bored of paying attention. I struggled through criminal procedure this morning, and then I was a big giant suck and decided to go to the fancypants Target we have over here for one reason, and one reason only. I couldn't bear the thought of sitting here and studying from 10:30-2:00 (this ridiculously long break I have), and I have already been through all my traditional interwebz distractions (textsfromlastnight, icanhascheezburger, failblog, google reader). I decided what better way to burn a few hours than watching trashy tv on hulu? So yes, I drove all the way to Target between classes to buy headphones so I could watch tv at the law school instead of doing homework.

Oh, and then, while I was in the throes of a total lapse of willpower, I went by the entirely-too-convenient Pizza Hut Express inside Target (which should be illegal) and got the cheesiest, greasiest personal pan pizza in the universe. And now I am watching last night's Desperate Housewives while I have my greasy little paws all over my computer. This does not bode well for my work ethic during finals. Have I mentioned that you shouldn't go to law school? Well, here's the mention: don't go to law school. I won't go into a big long whinefest about how terrible it is, how the reading never ends, how it seems like you work your tail off and you get nothing in return except a big load of debt and perhaps the first stepping stones on the path to alcoholism, but you know. Wait, I think that was a big long whinefest. Oh well.

On a random, and totally unrelated note, I'm sitting here in the law school lounge listening to my iTunes and am ashamed because I've never really paid attention to my play count statistics before. Holy crap, I listened to "LoveGame" 191 times? Really? How much of my life have I spent listening to Ricky Martin's "Drop It On Me"? Well considering it's like 4 minutes long and I've listened to it 197 times, that amounts to almost 13 HOURS. 13 hours of my life listening to one (pretty terrible, I'll say) Ricky Martin song. In my defense, it IS on my workout playlist, which is just about the only time I listen to my iPod, and that damn Ricky does make me want to get up and boogy, so perhaps there is some justification. Or maybe not, that's ok, you can still reserve the right to judge me for that.

halloweenie (with no whining or complaining this time)

So at my parents' house, Halloween is a big deal. And I always say that and then I hear "Oh yes, we have a ton of trick-or-treaters too, we just stay so busy handing out candy." No, no you do not. We have a serious mob scene on Halloween, kids lined up down the sidewalk, me throwing Tootsie Rolls at children and hoping to hit bags.

See, I told you it was crazy. I didn't buy nearly as much candy as I usually do, because you know, handing out candy in such a furious manner really cuts into my drinking time.

PB and I did the whole cowboys and Indians thing again this year, revived from junior year of college.

So after handing out candy, we had a good old-fashioned redneck garage party, at which I drank entirely too much "Cherry Lemon Sundrop Modified." CLSM = Sundrop (Google it if you're not fortunate enough to have it), cherry Sno-Kone syrup, fresh lemons, and VODKA. Delicious (and I don't normally even drink vodka, but that's a story for another day.)

The BFFs came, BFFLia dressed as a cat and her husband was Chandler from Friends - y'all remember that episode?

We played left/right/center, which might be most fun game ever, involving the least skill ever. Basically, you play with three dollars (not the lame-ass chips they give you) and you just take turns rolling the dice. If you roll:

L - pass one dollar to the person on the left

R- pass one dollar to the person on the right

C- put one dollar in the center (it doesn't ever come back out)

Dot - keep your dollar!

The object is to be the person with the last dollar in play (as in, not in the center.) If you are, you win the pot!

Please look at my face. Can we all tell I had a little too much fun?