Facebook Status of the Day

Geez. I was super cranky last night. Sorry about that. I take it all back.

Not really.

So, people have been funny lately. Thanks for that. There's nothing like a potential pandemic to get people back in touch with their lighter sides. Good times.

Facebook Status of the Day:

• HD doesn't like to jump to conclusions about people and their accents, but she's guessing that telemarketer's real name was not "Bob."

Runners Up:

• I think I've got the it'ssssssssss wine flu. My weekend has officially begun.
• Still wondering why IT people ask the things they do. When you call because you were locked out of your computer because you used the wrong password, why do they ask you if you remember it or not? Gee, Chuck, I am going to go out on a limb here and say......NO, I DON'T REMEMBER IT!!!!

Facebook Etiquette, Part 2: The "Is" and the Quiz

There's an epidemic on Facebook. The first few times I saw it, it didn't really bother me. Now, it's just flat-out annoying. This status update makes me go BANANAS:

Jane Doe is

Um. How zen of you, Jane Doe. You "is." Awesome. Your presence in the world is so vital, it's worth reminding people that you exist. Congratulations. Now don't ever do it again. You're not being deep, it just shows you have nothing to say. And if you don't have anything to say, take your hands off of your keyboard. Thanks.

Because "is" rhymes with "quiz," (and therefore made a catchy title) I thought it was worth mentioning the inane Facebook quizzes here as well. I have no problem with people spending their time doing quizzes on Facebook. If it makes you happy, that's great. But I do want you to know that you will never, in fact, be a color, an '80s wrestler, a wine, or a pharmaceutical. You are a human. Probably. Work on being the best human you can be. Also, feel free NOT to publish your quiz results to the news feed. I can live without knowing that if you were a God, you would be Satan. I could have guessed as much on my own.

Facebook Status of the Day

I would dedicate today's Facebook Status of the Day entry to Bea Arthur, but frankly, none of them can carry her pocketbook. Rest in peace, Bea.

Facebook Status of the Day:

• HC was caught talking to herself this morning. This is why it's good to stand in the BACK of the elevator.

Runners up:

• BR's quote of the day "I hate housework. You make the beds, you wash the dishes and six months later you have to start all over again."
• DS: if I were a Lifetime Television for Women movie, I'd be called "I'm so over being under you: The Denise Smith Story." But who would play me?
• GH is not surprised it's gonna be 80 degrees the next 4 days because it happens every time I have to go to work. WTF.
• LS is wondering if my car is invisible. The number of times that crazy drivers almost hit me in the past two days---not to mention the one that actually did---is insane.

Brothers from Another Mother

I may go to hell for this. We can carpool.

I feel compelled, despite the potential eternal damnation, to point out an observance I made the other day while watching Zoboomafoo with my son. The Kratt brothers (Chris and Martin), the creators and human stars of the show, closely resemble another famous set of brothers. Those other brothers would be the convicted parent murderers Lyle and Erik Menendez.

Bracing myself for the bolt of lightning to strike me.

The Devil Is in the Details

Wow, where have I been? I wish I had some interesting reason for not blogging. Maybe that I had been recruited into the CIA for a top-secret, covert operation. Or perhaps that I hitch-hiked to Vegas to make my fortune on the slots. The real excuses are pretty boring: busy, lazy, apathetic, unmotivated. But that makes it MUCH more relatable, right?

For my reentry into the blogosphere, I thought I'd choose a topic that has not been addressed here before, and likely never will again: cooking.

I don't like to cook. People inevitably take that to mean that I am a bad cook. We should not, however, confuse distaste for a task with an inability to do it well. I might be a superior concert pianist. I just have no desire to find out. Same goes for cooking. I perform what I call "meal preparation." A stove is sometimes involved. So are fresh ingredients. But I had never followed a recipe in my life. The microwave is my friend.

At family gatherings, I am on cleaning patrol, because I don't cook. Works for me. I LOVE to clean. But for some reason, last week, I decided to volunteer to make something for Easter dinner: deviled eggs. Why deviled eggs? I dunno. Just popped into my brain and then came out of my mouth.

I found the most simple recipe I could for deviled eggs on the Food Network web site. I went to the store and bought the ingredients. Then the thought occurred to me: I am taking the eggs for a one-hour drive to West Virginia, and I don't have one of those handy-dandy deviled egg holder thingies. This was my first time to make food for a family gathering, so I knew my contribution was going to be under intense scrutiny. I was picturing my eggs strewn about a plastic container like the deck chairs on the Titanic.

But I didn't want to buy one of those handy-dandy deviled egg holder thingies. Lord knows if I would ever make them again, even IF they turned out well. So I began wracking my brain for ideas. How could I preserve the sanctity of my precious deviled eggs without buying some hunk of plastic I would probably never use again?

The solution I came up with: baking cups (or, as I like to call them, cupcake papers).

It worked quite well, for travelling and these were also nice to set on a dinner plate. The paper prevented the egg from sliding around. And, the deviled eggs were a hit! Or at least people said they liked them. And no one went to the hospital after eating them. So there's that.