Unsolved Mysteries
Experts are baffled by what have caused these rare, intricate fur circles. Were they created by UFOs, thus shedding light on the existence of extra-terrestrials? A result of a magnetic force or energy field? Or just a cruel clipper hoax?
We may never know.
Rollin’ with my homies
I don’t really have anything to say.
I just wanted you to sing this song in your head.
Just like I have been doing for the past 3 hours.
You can thank me later.
3rd time’s the “charm”
Current Mood: 
Alarmed
ok.
feral behavior update.
i’m sure TT is going to be traumatized to learn that i’ve shared my 3rd (and hopefully final) act of dignity-strippage. i was right to be concerned about my potential triad of terrible and tasteless woes.
recap:
1. duct tape pant-mending. (i’m wearing a pair today)
2. the B&N keys. you know what i’m talking about.
and lucky number 3 IS:
(drum roll, please…)
3. because i continue to forget to buy sliced almonds for my salad (despite the fact that i’ve been to the grocery store at least 4 times since i ran out)
AND
we don’t have a nut cracker
AND
the whole almonds are HARD. THEY DON’T CRUSH with a knife.
…
er…
i’ve resorted to gingerly crushing them between my teeth and letting them fall directly from mouf to salad. I SAID IT. I CRUSH THEM IN MY TEEF AND DROP THEM OUT OF MY MOUTH. though i should be proud that i’m using my natural knuckle-draggin resources, even i am embarassed for myself while i’m doing this. TT has to look away . I am a human salad shooter. while this technique doesn’t make for the most ideal shape, it will suffice until i go to the store and actually remember to purchase them. i suspect after putting this out for the public eye, i WILL remember to purchase them.
Please still love me.
UPDATE: THIS JUST IN (in case you crave a visual)
Thanks KP!
File under “disturbing” and “momentarily mouth watering”
In an attempt to make it out of this post without a bevy of death threats and/or with my integrity intact, before I begin I must say that I love marzipan and am staunchly anti-cannibalism.
But I do also have to admit when I received this e-mail from my co-worker today, my mouth did salivate at first glance.
Subject line: FW: MARZIPAN BABIES
In my defense, I didn’t really think it was going to be babies. You can pretty much buy marzipan treats in all shapes, sizes, animal classes and genetic mutations.
I’ve always suspected his nose was made of marzipan. Explains the melting.
So when I opened the e-mail and found these, you can imagine my surprise.
Holy almond paste, they really were babies! I just sat there and stared. They were masterfully shaped. Unearthly smooth. Obviously created with love and care by a seasoned pastry chef with feather-touch fingers plucked from the wings of angels. As my senses began working overtime (thanks be to Andy Partridge) I thought about how they probably had the perfect marzipan consistency and texture. Yielding but thick and substantial.
This is where my moral dilemma began. Say I were to come into possession of one of these marzipan babies. Could I really eat it? Would I eat a baby? Where would I begin? Because at the moment, the urge to hold a precious marzipan baby in my palm and slowly squish it through my fingers was unbearably strong. Would I nibble at the toes first? Eat a hand and stash the rest in my desk to savor later?
My gorey inner dialogue was really bothering me. Do I harbor ill-will for babies? But then I realized, I was but a victim of my environment! The real question was, who would make marzipan babies?! What devious, depraved mind would make a replica of a baby so mouthwateringly delicious?
The optimist in me refused to believe such a monster existed. So, on an Encyclopedia Brown hunch, I googled “marzipan babies.” And breathed a huge sigh of relief. And maybe shed a tear. For marzipan babies are seemingly a little piece of internet folklore. A scam. An urban legend. A cyber wives’ tale.
These babies are actually miniature sculptures by Camille Allen. Thankfully, they are made from a tooth-chippingly inedible polymer clay or resin. The hair upon further inspection appears to be 100% homegrown, barbershop-quality beard trimmings and not the super fine threads of gold-laced Belgian chocolate I once imagined. Sigh.
All this huge ordeal has done for me is make me crave marzipan.
As you can see from the portrait of my inner child, shown left, this makes me very crabby. And has left me no choice but to call upon my satanic birthright and destroy the world.
O, Dignity! Why hath thou deserted me??
Current Mood: Alarmed
i think i have sunk/sank/sinked to a new all-time low.
i just pried a tiny morsel of laughing cow cheeze from between the ‘B’ & ‘N’ with my door key. AND ATE IT.
i think (& hope) that collene has correctly pinned this abhorrent behavior on the South Beach Diet. i can think of no explanation otherwise - than possibly genetics - and thats too distressing a thought to entertain. at least this is a phase that can potentially go away. with an exorcism.
what can possibly be next in my litany of dignity-less woes??
1) i’ve already mended 2 pairs of my regular-wear pants with duct tape.
2) i’ve consumed an item from off of my keyboard. (pried from between the keys no less)
3) …? mystery action.
i’m a little afeared of the possibilities. i just pray to all of the Powers That Be that it will not involve the bathroom in any way.
my bref stinks.
stoopid laughing cow cheese.
kittyteef out.
