Dollhouse EP by Melanie Martinez:
I’ve often told you about the many conspiracies against me. One is, of course, that Martha Stewart and her company are constantly spying on me for inspiration. For example, a few weeks back, I wrote lovingly about steamers. Imagine my lack of surprise when I opened up this month’s issue of Martha Stewart Living and found an essay about steamers. I chuckled bitterly. I don’t know why they just don’t hire me. I’d love living in New York in a creative place like that. Do you think Martha is flying her drones around my house? I sometimes wonder. I’m not completely kidding. The other conspiracy is the fact that Ryan Murphy is constantly stealing my ideas and inspirations. At this point it has become ridiculous. I can only assume that an early draft of my novel, Terrible Miss Margo, made its way to him somehow. Nothing else can explain why major and minor bits of my story are all over all three seasons of American Horror Story. People will think it inspired my book when the damned thing finally gets published. Anyway, last week the extended trailer for the new season came out and a song that I’ve been enjoying by Melanie Martinez was the background. I had to laugh again. For the past month or so, I’ve been listening to it whilst editing yet another of my endless drafts of Terrible Miss Margo. It’s just too much to always be a coincidence.
Return of Wendy Williams:
Reader, I am so excited to go home and watch the first episode of the new season or The Wendy Williams Show! You all know that I live for Ms. Wendy. She’s my queen and absolutely my favorite talk show host ever. EVER! Remember when her studio audience yelled, “HOW YOU DOIN?” when I was in New York earlier this year? Oh, the wonderful memories… The show is hilarious and informative and I’ve had a miserable time this summer missing out on all my hot topics. It was so nice to come home from Egypt with twenty episodes to catch up on, but they soon dried up and I was left to watch all the other junk I’ve been saving on my DVR for the past decade. I don’t think I’ll ever get through all the movies I have on there. It’s time for a new one, it’s long been time for a new one, but I’ve been putting it off because I have about twenty old movies on there that aren’t available on DVD, Bluray, download, or illegal streaming. I just need to sit down one weekend or three and get them out of the way. I’m not very good at sitting around though. Anyway, back to Wendy. Today is the premiere. I’m just so excited that I can barely stand it! She’s going to eat crow — an actual crow! I’m a vegetarian, but wonderfully intrigued in gastronomy, so I’m curious about how this bird will be prepared. Crows are highly intelligent creatures, too, so that makes me rather sad. No matter, though, my life is complete again with Wendy back in it!
French Onion Soup OMELETTE:
Readers, I am a genius; an amazing gastronomic visionary, really. You all know how accomplished I am in the world of French pastries, but my triumphs in French cuisine continue to pile up around me. Last night I was reading recipes of Korean steamed eggs. I was terribly intrigued, but I was not tempted enough to try them. Something held me back — probably the apparent lack of texture. It’d be like eating a custard for a meal, which I’m not into. So, not feeling my best and incredibly fatigued, I fell back on my old friend, the omelette. I think they’re perfect, especially after I read about the technique David Lebovitz uses in his book, My Paris Kitchen, a tome I think every kitchen should have on prominent display. What filling did I want, though? I had half an onion staring at me, so I decided I could sweat it down like you get at any breakfast joint, but that didn’t satisfy me. I wanted deeply caramelized onions, but I have no patience. I recalled a technique that I had recently read about that speeds the process along by using melted sugar and baking powder. I had nothing to lose, so I gave it a try. My life is forever changed. They are fabulous and take twenty minutes, not two hours. I’ll be caramelizing onions all the damn time now. So, I put those onions and some Swiss cheese into my omelette, garnished with some parsley and died. IT WAS FABULOUS, reader. IT WAS A SENSATION. I can’t get over it. I’m going to have to start a web series and dedicate an episode entirely to omelettes. They’re the best. Go to your kitchens, readers, and cook!
The Paranormal Podcast:
I’m almost certain that I’ve talked about this podcast (click that link, reader!) before, but I’ve fallen for it yet again. For years, I’ve had a back catalog a mile long to catch up on and I finally have! I feel so accomplished. As I’ve been walking for the past month, I’ve been listening to episodes about ghosts and vampires and spirits and aliens and it’s been awfully fun. I love the paranormal, but I’m not one of those people that give in to every new theory and story. I like to form my own opinions, and this podcast is excellent for that. Each episode is about a new concept or idea and has the host speaking to the expert in this given field. Sometimes they’re awful, like the lady who was going on and on about the spiritualist life of of Abraham Lincoln. That was a subject that could be amazingly interesting, but she was so irksome that it turned me off. Other times, there will be guests talking about real hauntings or one of my favorite topics — ancient America! I love the ancient America theories. They aren’t terribly well respected, but they are fascinating. If you enjoy the paranormal or are in the spooky spirit with Halloween on its way, check it out!
As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been growing my hair out. The ultimate goal is the Harry Styles man-bun. That creation is the epitome of perfection. Look at it, reader. Let it inspire you:
YASSSSSSS, HARRY. Are you inspired? Are you feeling spiritual? Has your life changed, reader? Did you weep? I did.
Is your body aching?Sweet Beysus… I remember the near religious ecstasy of seeing Harry’s man-bun with my own eyes last month. It was a special moment in my life that I’ll be telling my grandchildren about. Let’s be honest, though, my grandchildren will surely be cats. Back to the point now, if you’ve ever tried growing your hair out, you know that it is one of the most awkward and consistently irksome things a person will ever go through. There are phases where it will look fabulous at a particular length, and then a month later it will look like utter shit. I’m in one of the fabulous periods right now and I could not be happier. I’ve spent so much time with more sophisticated and sleek styling. I’ve never bothered much with a more natural mess, even though that is something I often see in fashion magazines and aspire to portray. I never could figure out how to achieve this look, though. It turns out that all I needed was a travel sized can of mousse that I forgot about. It transformed my head, reader. My hair is now resplendent and enormous. I’ve added maybe four inches to my height. It’s a bit ridiculous, but so am I.
Sweatpants In Fashion Magazines:
Reader, I am absolutely appalled by the current state of casual fashion. How is it acceptable to wear sweatpants and yoga pants all over town and to your classes? I can’t abide by this. I know that people love being comfortable, but that’s something you do in have shadows of your own home, not out in public. There is an old axiom that I believe in that nobody seems to listen to anymore: dress for the job you want. So, using that as a basis, I regularly dress as an Egyptologist, a professor, and a high end runway model. I doubt that the people I see out and about desire to be yoga teachers. Anyway, I was flipping through one of the many fashion magazines that wing their way to my mailbox each month and was absolutely disgusted to see an entire article about fashionable sweatpants. Let me tell you reader, I wasn’t entirely sure what they said about them because I hacked my lunch all over the magazine. How can they claim that you can wear sweatpants with a nice blazer? What is going on?Who ever thought this was good idea? How dare they!? This trend is appalling and offensive. I’m still reeling from the article. Don’t you dare wear sweatpants reader. Don’t you even dare!
Every year I have to pay for my website’s domain. I’ve been doing it every single year for ages, but still I don’t know why it has to be such a struggle. I hate google. I love it as a search engine and a poor translation tool, but I absolutely loathe it for everything else. I abhor the fact that I have to use it for my work emails. It’s awful. It wouldn’t let me log in. Then when I figured out my username, it told me that my password was incorrect. When I fixed my password, it told me that my username was incorrect. Finally, I got the two of them sorted, but it still wouldn’t let me log on. I became stuck in an infinite loop of login refreshes. I screamed. I would have typed an angry email to Google, but their customer service is completely idiotic and there’s nowhere to speak to an actual human. Livid, I finally got to my wallet part of Google and updated my information. If this website is still online next year, we will all breathe a sigh of sweet relief.
I have tried for years to find a pair of khakis that fit me well and that I like. This has proven to be impossible. There are four pairs in my closet right now that I’ve only worn a few times — some only once. They’re always way too loose on my legs and way too tight on other places. They look ridiculous and I don’t need the world seeing my testicles and adjacent bits. This is becoming increasingly annoying because I just want to dress like a dashing Egyptologist every day. It’s one of the only things I want out of life. And a pith helmet. I’d love a pith helmet. Oh, and a cape. I’d wear a cape every day. Someday I’ll find a pair of khakis that don’t irritate me. Why can’t they just make them out of a heavy denim-like fabric without enough extra in the legs to use as a sail on a pirate ship? There must be a market for sturdy and chic khakis someplace, mustn’t there? Le sigh… Do I have to start this business myself?
Summer has always been and will surely always be my favorite holiday. Maybe when I move to Los Angeles, I will enjoy the winter more. There will be palm trees, the beach, excellent restaurants, and celebrities while there are blizzards back home, so I’m sure I’ll adore it. But, here in Iowa, the summer is the only time of the year that I’m fully happy. We don’t have much of a spring or autumn, we shoot straight into snowstorms from nice days. It’s mid-September now and the nice days are numbered. I try to take advantage of them while I can, but it’s awfully depressing when the sun starts setting earlier and earlier each night. I always get depressed when the sun goes down except for in summer. It’s beginning to happen now, so I think my body is trying to tell me that things are changing. I’ve already begun gorging on everything. My seasonal depression has never kicked in so early and it worries me. I’d better get to the doctor.