It's cheese sandwiches!

I was bored. And I wanted dinner. So I went upstairs and made some food. Cheese sandwiches. Since I am a five-star chef, I thought I'd share my recipe with all of you so that you too could enjoy this culinary delight.

First, gather your supplies. NOTE: If you spend more than 9.99 on a cheese sandwich maker, you are spending too much!

Next, cut the cheese.

Assemble your sandwich. I chose to add feta cheese to this delight a) because I was out of gorgonzola, my favorite cheese and b) I'm a five-star chef dammit! WE MAKE OUR FOOD FANCY!

Now, you must wait.

It was during this time that Old Pail came into the kitchen. He and the Mrs. had been watching Die Hard in the den and heard commotion in the kitchen and Old Pail, being the alpha male, came to investigate. He was then saddened it was only me, and began to beg for a cheese sandwich.

"OH LOOK!" I replied. "Our sandiwiches are done!"

Remove from machine and consume.

So there you have it folks. Enjoy tasty five-star cuisine right in your own home!

I had a very interesting dream last night. And in true Rachel-dream fashion, it was quite cinematic. So I wrote it all out. Maybe I'll analyze it. Maybe you will. Or just sit back and enjoy.


I'm in the woods, in the mountains. Everything is green, alive and beautiful. So misleading. There are six of us here. Not camping for the weekend. Trying to survive. Running from the dead, who are chasing us. Up here in the mountains I smell the grass and the pine and the running water in the creek. Back in the city, where we were for a while, all I could smell was the rotting bodies as they moved around outside of our little fortress in the basement of the department store.

I grab an empty bucket, the cracked one I can't haul water in, and my axe. We have several pistols and rifles, but we're saving them. It's hard to get ammo up here. And if the dead make it up here, last thing we want is for more to come at the sound of gunshots. I find a small, thin stick and twist it in my hair to put it up in a bun on the back of my head.

"Shane, I'm going to the creek." I call out.

"Not alone," he calls back, coming up next to me with a baseball bat in his hand. "I can find some more flat rocks anyway."

We begin walking. "Smartest idea yet, heating them in the fire and putting them in our blankets at night to keep us warm."

"I'll keep you warm, Rachel."

We smile and make our way to the creek. Once there, I set the bucket down and look into the water. "I see a few fish in my net!" I reach in and grab the string I rigged to pull the net closed before I pull it out of the water. I drag the entire thing up to reveal several trout. "Enough to feed us for at least a few nights!"

"Shhh..." Shane hushes me, grabbing his bat. I see him walk gently a few feet away from me before turning around. "RUN! AWAY FROM CAMP!"

I drop the next back in the water, pick up my axe and run. I jump over tree trunks and dodge branches, smelling that familiar rotten stench. It burns my eyes as it gets closer, but I keep running. I don't hear Shane behind me anymore, but I can hear a grunt and the contact of his bat with the skull of a Dead. I keep running. I know this hill well enough that I could get back to camp after the Dead are killed and gone. That's the rule, run away from camp so we don't drag the Dead straight to the others.

I trip over a tree trunk and fall to the ground with a thud. Then I smell it. I roll over to see a Dead standing over me, screaming. It's breath is the worst part. I swing my bat and close my eyes, feeling the spatter of black blood hit my face. I get up and pummel it's skull in with a few more hits. That's when I see Shane running towards me. "BEHIND YOU!"

I spin around and hit another Dead, nearly decapitating it with blows by the time Shane reaches my side. He takes me in his arms. "Four of them. How the fuck did they get up this far?"

"What if there was a cabin or something not too far away?"

"It's getting dark, we can't leave the mountain now. We have to fortify camp for the night. Come on. I found some bathroom stall walls a few dozen feet back, we can carry them back to camp."

We begin to slowly walk back to camp, stopping occasionally. It's tiring, killing a Dead and lugging metal partitions with you. We get back to the river and grab the fish before going back to camp.

My father and grandpa are getting the fire started. There is a few others. We tell them what happened and hand my father the fish to cook. Shane, grandpa and myself get to work using the bathroom walls to create a safe 'box' for us to sleep in, so we are prepared. Grandpa is a good shot, but he's old, so he does best in a 'blind.' He can snipe a Dead like nobody's business.

We get the fire low, having finished our work and our fish, and it starts to get cold. Dad and one other guy decide to take the first watch. With grandpa and the few others fast asleep, Shane and I crawl into a makeshift sleeping bag on the far end of the 'blind' and snuggle close together.

"We're not gonna make it."

"We will. We'll find it. Don't worry."

"Find what? My grandpa is old, he doesn't know shit."

"Rachel, it's okay." Shane kisses me. "It may not be real, but it's the only option we have anymore."

I wake up to gunshots. Shane and I scramble out of bed to see my father shooting a rifle towards the woods. "DEAD EVERYWHERE WE ARE SURROUNDED!"

Tucking my bat in the loop of my pants I sewed in for the purpose, I grab my two pistols and step out of the blind. I see the Dead and start shooting, killing one per bullet. I shoot several, then I run out of bullets. Tucking my guns in my waistband I take out my bat and start swinging.

Suddenly a woman's voice comes on the ham radio near the fire. "SHANE the army is coming, they are gonna nuke the whole mountain!"

Shane turns around and answers the radio call. "LAURA! WHY?"

"The mountains are full of the dead. They left the cities."

"THERE IS NO BOMB SHELTER!" I yell, killing another Dead. "There never was."

"THERE IS!" I hear grandpa yell from the blind, over the sound of the melee. "Down the hill!"

"Dad?" I turn around.

"Grab everyone, let's go!"

I take a woman's hand, and turn and run. There's a dirt path along the edge of the rock outcropping of the mountain, one that looks worn. Shane, Dad, Grandpa and another man (nameless/faceless in my dream) are following. Then I come face to face with a Dead. "NO!" I scream, hitting it with my bat.

But not before it bites the woman. I hear a gunshot, Shane takes her out. I turn back around to see several Dead tearing my father apart. Shane looks at me. "Close your eyes," he warns.

I hear a gunshot.

"GO GO GO!" Grandpa screams. "Just down there!"

The four of us left run to a small metal hatch. Grandpa opens it as the Dead keep running towards us. They are too close, Shane and I are beating them with bats and axes. Once the hatch is open we all crawl in, having to slam the door shut and lock it.

Once inside, it's a utopia. A full mini-bar. Independent air, water, plumbing, a food for ten for a year. I start exploring. There's battery power, self-sustaining generators, everything. There are board games and books and everything. There are bunks for ten people, and a chemical shower.

"Fucking shit," I gasp, picking up a book.

That's when I heard the BOOM of the atomic bomb. The shelter vibrates. Then I remember my father is dead. "Shane..."

Shane comes and holds me. "It's gonna be okay. Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

I look down to see we are both covered in blood. It smells like rot.


This is where I'm gonna stop my dream, because it gets a little 'sexy' before I woke up this morning. In my dream, I could smell rot so distinctly. It was wierd. Maybe someday I'll write up my lion attack dream. It's an ongoing-series, about once a year since I was about 12 I had dreams about lion attacks and hiding, and the next dream would pick up where the last one left off...it was strange. Anyway...anyone wanna analyze this????

I hate hating myself. I just want someone to freaking fix me!

Sometimes I wonder, if people knew what I'd be willing to do for them, if it would change their minds.

It's been a crazy weekend.

Friday: wake up, do homework, go hang out with the ladies. Go to work. Go get so drunk I don't remember what happened really yet. Then go home, apparently beg more than one friend for a booty call before falling asleep in my clothes. Wake up with alarm to go to work during the FIRST SNOW STORM of the season. Go balls-deep shopping with my mom. Buy girly hats and mittens and boots. Mom and I went to Old Navy. Yeah. OLD NAVY. Wow.

Go to hockey game. Have a fucking blast!!!! So much socialization and yet I didn't really want it to end. What's happening to me???

Today: wake up, get coffee and printer ink, arrive home to find out that Grandpa came home from China yesterday and we are to go visit him. So my folks and I do. We get to sit through a slide show of the last month he spent as an ambassador for St. Cloud State University to Nankai and Binhai. Apparently at one luncheaon, the entertainment was for the chef to come out, blindfolded, and chop vegetables on the bare back of a server with a very sharp knife. No joke.

Then we got Chinese food. Yummy! Then it was off to see the movie Unstoppable. My mom loves distaster thrillers. I love stuff getting wrecked. My dad loves to laugh at bad acting. We all enjoyed ourselves.

Trip to the craft store to get yarn and an outfit for my father's finger bandage. Yes. Pictures will soon be posted, but suffice it to say there are now glow-in-the-dark googly eyes glued to my father's thumb cast.

Went to work. Had my boss listen in on ALL my calls in the last hour to help determine why the list I was calling was having such a poor conversion rate. Turns out I was doing mostly right things, but I wasn't assertive enough with getting pledge cards confirmed to mail out. So I got better. Then I hit the keyboard during a call, accidently hung up, and had to redail and apologize. Ugh. It's a bit nerve racking having your boss listen from across the room and send pop-up messages on your monitor DURING calls telling you what to do. But I learned a lot. At least I made three bucks in bonus.

Then I got let go 10 minutes early which was JUST enough time to get back in time for the 9pm airing of The Walking Dead. It was pretty awesome. But I'm feeling like there are just too many jerk-off rednecks that are going to survive the apocoplypse. I also got an email that there is one less test I have to worry about this week.

All in all, I've done a shit-ton of shit in the past three days. This is like, six months of socializing and out-of-my-room behavior for me. I'm tired and feeling a bit stressed now that I sit back. I think I'll just polietly decline any more outings until the next home men's hockey game in December.

I'm having very illogical feelings, and I don't do illogical. The feelings I'm having make no sense, and I don't know why I'm having them....but I am. Emotions are so useless, and dangerous. I've had feelings kinda on the same vien as these, but this is RIDICULOUS.

I just want to go back to the bitter, want to be single, want to be alone girl I used to be. Wanting someone is so inconvienent.

Happy Halloween

I should have known when I woke up feeling sick that today was going to be like every other Halloween in recent memory. I haven't had a fun Halloween since I was a kid, which is fucked up since I keep claiming it's my favorite holiday. Its the time of year where all the wierd cool shit is socially acceptable, where people like to hear crazy stories and tales out of my mouth. I become a commodity of sorts. At work, people actually come to me and ask me about things, hauntings or other stories. People actually know who the fuck I am and that I exist.

So yeah, this sounds like a pity party. It's my blog. Don't like it get the fuck out. Not like anyone reads this shit anyway. I just like to see what I'm going through in words. It makes it real. Like someday someone will see this and know I'm not just crazy, that I have a very real and legitimate reason to feel the way I do. Tell me you wouldn't feel differently.

When I was a kid I loved to get dressed up and go trickortreating. It was fun and spooky. Haunted Houses were great because I could just let myself have fun and react and it was okay. It was okay to do that kind of stuff with your family as a kid.

Then in high school, I kinda ignored Halloween, because I was at the age where it wasn't cool anymore. I would go to the local haunted house if I had friends who were working as ghouls that year, but it was more to support them than anything.

In college, I would occasionally go out with friends on Halloween to the Haunted House. My best friend was always around. Until she started dating her now-husband. Then everyone else started to slowly not matter to her anymore. But she did always make time for me, and I for her. When I moved to Montana, I had a roommate who would hang out. Okay, so she was a high school student, but at least she wanted to watch scary movies and entertain trickortreaters and actually wanted to do that stuff with me. Great.

I moved back home and any friends I had here were long gone, off living thier lives. They were married or left for grad school or for work. I was stuck living at home, desperate for a job, and literally trying not to give up and slit my wrists. Here I was with all these qualifications and skills that people had been impressed by and I couldn't get a job as a cashier at a grocery store. I couldn't make new friends. You tell me that sends the message of being worthy. I think not.

So nearly two years go by and my family threatens to kick me out, so I take the GRE and literally pick a grad program out of what I was somewhat qualified for, all the while expecting to not get accepted because fuck, I couldn't get a job, how the hell was I going to get one of ten spots in a grad program? Yet I did. I didn't get any assisstantships, which just means more debt and more ways to get fucked over later on, which is going to happen.

So I think I'll get back into the world, right? The first day of class everyone is really nice and warm and sweet and wanting to have study groups and actually asking me about myself. I'm included in group emails, and people made the effort to invite to me non-school related events. Most of which I attended. I get a job, a shit one but still. I work hard, my bosses love me because I make and exceed numbers. Most of my calls love me because I'm polite and warm without being too pushy.

But at the end of the day, I'm just numbers to my bosses. They don't even remember my first name. And after a while, the ladies in my classes just started to exclude me. I'd find out via facebook or them talking during breaks in class about all the things they did or are planning. That's fine, I'm used to being excluded. Very common for me. But when they asked me about Halloween, and then they asked me if I wanted to go, and I said yes and I helped make the plans...then I got my hopes up. Only to find that they went earlier in the day.

Let's go back...the last few years I've had plans with others. I got all dressed up in costume, only to find out that the other people either 'didn't want to go'. No, that's the excuse I got. Nevermind I found out on Facebook they went anyway, without me. At least Frankie just stayed home that year. Because being a housewife is her deal. Ew.

Tonight I had plans, I got my costume on and I stupidly let myself get excited, even though all week I was anxious. I finally got over the hump and got hyped up. Then...I got ditched. As always. I find out they all went an hour earlier and forgot to tell me. So when I text to give someone a ride they were just leaving.

I'm in the car, in a parking lot, texting and bawling like a fucking loser when my father, who was doped up on meds, demands to go to the haunted house with me. So I take him, even though he was in pain the whole time. Because he felt guilty that I got ditched. We had a huge fight on the way home, because I thanked him for going with me, but that he didn't have to go...and he started giving me bullshit about tradition.

It's only tradition because everyone fucks me over.

Seriously, what is so fucking wrong with me that nobody wants to spend time with me? Am I that horrible? I mean, I know I'm not a looker anymore, but some of the most hideous looking people in the world have husbands/wives/kids. Not to mention the guy at work I've been building up a repoire with. I finally get the courage to casually ask him out for drinks...only to find out he started dating someone else with work with just two days before.

I've done the slut thing before, back when I had the body to pull it off (the reason I don't have that body anymore is a very long and somewhat related story...but I'm not going to get into that online). I've done the confident thing and the desperate thing and I just can't seem to make it work. Not for friends, not for romantic relationships. I've put myself in some dangerous positions before, like hooking up with the wrong kind of guy at a party, or letting a boyfriend hit me because it made him feel better..and yes I know that was bullshit but I stayed with him for a few months anyway. Yeah, I've done stupid shit, and I've done the right shit, and none of it works.

I just hate feeling so hopeless, worthless and useless at the same time. Ick. Yet I don't want to commit suicide, even though I can understand why someone would think that I would. And I've tried before. I've done the whole hospital thing, the recovery, the rehab. But I feel like attempting suicide or actually doing it would feel cheap and cheesy, and I still have just enough self worth left to think that I could do better. I haven't completely given up yet. I'm just trying to vent, to figure out how to be better, and maybe enjoy my favorite holiday someday.

I dreamt I had a baby.

It was the most insane senario ever. A friend of mine and I decided to just be friends, but have a kid cuz we both wanted one. So I was raising this kid with a friend of mine and it was like some stupid romantic comedy. But instead of being some sort of happy family, he got shot in the head at the playground in front of our daughter. The funeral was weird, because the casket was floating and everyone attended via webcam. I lied to my daughter and said that her daddy just turned invisible, but he was still alive. She had a hoverboard. It was weird, she was only like a year old but a teenager...? She ran away and I woke up.

I have no clue what any of this means. I know it stems from a conversation I had shortly before I fell asleep, but I have very little desire to enter in an agreement like in my dream. I'm just going to blame me being sick.

I'm going to stop talking about strange things with people. Then I won't have wierd dreams. Right?

BOO!

I love October.

Leaves turning, sweater weather, and Halloween. The actual holiday has been ruined by TAPS and the rest of the TTB's and believers, but I still love to watch a horror movies, and I try to watch one a day (yet I've only seen six so far, usually while I'm studying). I love listening to The Misfits Static Age album, or Rob Zombie, or any dark moster-rock. I wear mismatched Halloween socks (year round...). Lots of dark eye makeup. I eat candy all month long. I try to go to at least one cheesy haunted house, because it's fun.

This year: the goal is to go to a pumpkin patch, on a date. Hmph. Well, does anybody keep a New Year's resolution?

This weekend I'll try to catch at least two Vincent Price flicks while eating dark Reece's peanut butter cups and smelling the melting wax of my pumpkin scented candles. I'll rake up piles of leaves and watch my dog run through them and laugh, and post pictures online. I may have a fire and drink Jack's pumpkin-spiced beer. Most likely doing these things alone, for the few friends I have that are around don't appreciate the fall the way I do.

Anyway, what are your favorite Halloween activities? Good scary movies?

Cinderella Gets a New Washing Machine

What better present for a woman than a washing machine! Never mind that I need $200 worth of textbooks by Monday, no, I need a new washing machine.

Since my family moved into this house (my junior year of high school, so 9 years ago), they've been using an abusing a washing machine that should have been thrown away years before we moved in. It's been literally held together by athletic tape for years. You can only put 1/3 load in it or it won't spin. It's settings are all broken, so you only get to wash them one way. It's rusty, smells like rotten eggs, and has dog hair trapped in odd places. The only thing that's not disgusting is the actual barrel where the clothes go in.

So several months ago my brother gave my folks a newer washing machine he found in a tenant's garage after they moved (after so much time, property left is forfieted to the super and tada! He's the super). So this machine, which just needed a new hose, has been sitting in the garage for months.

A month ago, my mother and father bought a brand new car. A 2011 Kia Sorento. With the storms that have been raping the midwest this summer, my father was forced to clean out the garage so the brand new car doesn't get hail/debris damage. So the new washing machine got fixed and cleaned. Today we installed it. It's fancy! It has settings and it fills very fast and it washes a FULL LOAD OF CLOTHES and it's heavenly. With school starting on Monday, I'm going to be able to spend less time doing laundry and more time studying! Hooray!

Jungle Juice + Cell Phone = Very Bad Things

Last night was Frankie and Jakes Bachelor/ette party. It started as a BBQ co-hosted by the Best Man/Reverend doing the ceremony Scott (whom I've known since college) and Frankie's oldest friend Kat (they met when they were like, 5).

I helped set up. I had my Tarot cards to play fortune teller (everyone liked the idea) and the Ouija Board cuz Frankie wanted to do it. I had tons of fun stuff, including a plan for 'Never Have I Ever' drinking game.

Kat made Jungle Juice. Huge bottles of liquor, fruit, and sprite in a bowl. Before the party even started I had a tall beer and 2 glasses of the juice. Yummers! Then as the food went out and the guests started to arrive, I had a beer. Then another cup of juice. Then another beer. Then I went out to the fire and we started a game of 'Never Have I Ever.' Basically people put suggestions in the jar and Kat read them aloud. If you 'ever' the statement, you take a drink. Its basically a game to see who is the sluttiest.

I went through a beer, another glass of juice and a twisted iced tea.

This is where things get fuzzy, but I do believe that is when we kidnapped Frankie and drove her to downtown Rice (I didn't drive) to get her shots at the bar. We did blowjob shots (I used my hands, I was really drunk) and Scooby Snack shots. Then we walked (or tripped ) down the block to another bar where we did Pineapple cake shots.

Once we returned I had another beer. Then Frankie, Kat and I went downstairs to Frankie and Jake's bar where I was made a double Chuck Norris (basically 2 shots of cherry vodka and 2 shots of Red Bull). I remember going out to the fire with my glow in the dark necklace and laughing. I made fun of Travis for thinking Ghost Adventures was 'real'. I think that's when I started texting people, cuz they started talking about people I didn't know and I got bored. My phone says I texted Randall, Jason, Stace, Harper and this John guy I've been considering dating. I read the texts this morning. O. M. G.

I don't remember details, but apparently I sat on the stairs and told everyone I was broken and I couldn't leave the stairs or 'bad things would happen.' I grabbed Stewie, the pug, and scared him. I told Jake I was moving in? I think I may have yelled at Determan for getting hit in the balls...again this is all really fuzzy.

This all took place from 6:45 to 1am. Then it was time for bed. I got the waterbed in the basement. Once I stumbled out of my clothes and into pajamas, I sloshed onto the bed and I think I was texting...I don't remember really. I dreamt that I was being raped by a wolf. Then I dreamt I was running from zombies. Then I woke up at 6am and had to hurry up and grab my stuff, drive to my house, shower, drive to the place I'm house sitting and take care of the dogs and promptly go back to bed. I spent most of my day apologizing to people. I think I have a problem...

All in all...I had a great night. I had a bad day.

Win and Fail

Yesterday evening I was just sitting in the basement of the place I'm house sitting, when I hear someone come in the house. I'm freaking out...who the fuck would be coming over? I grab a broom, it's the only thing I could find, and I gently move across the room in the basement towards the corner where I could hide in the dark. I hear the serial killer coming down the stairs...

I'm just about to swing when I recognize my Uncle's friend Jeremy. Then I remembered that he was going to be stopping by the house sometime during my stay here to get a few things. After apologizing for nearly killing him, I quickly shot off a text to the person responsible for such a fright (you know who you are). Between the lightening and me being paranoid, I barely slept.

Last night there was a major storm. I guess we didn't get tornados, just bad winds, but when I drove into town to pick up the groceries there were roads closed with huge, and I mean HUGE, trees down in them. My folk's yard went most unscathed, but the neighbors had a huge tree go down.

I cooked all day. It was great. Sugar cookies, Rice Crispy treats, chocolate truffles and loaded mashed potatoes that just have to bake tomorrow. But the one thing I was most excited about...the chocolate covered bacon...was a fail.

I burnt the chocolate dip. The bacon wasn't crispy enough, then the grease mixed with the chocolate and didn't set. It was an epic fail. I'm kinda bummed, because when I made the text strips for myself they worked out great. Fucking shit. All that time and effort wasted. Crap crap crap crap.

Anyway, I need another nap before CROPSEY tonight! I have to go into town in a little bit and meet with someone so I'll miss the first airing, but at midnight I will soooo be showered, curled up in my bed (cuz I have to drive back into town to watch it) in the dark watching Cropsey. It'll make me happy. Hopefully nothing else goes wrong today.

Housesitting

House sitting is really a decent gig.

I don't really get paid, because my Uncle lets me use one of the cars and I don't have to reimburse him for gas, and the money they leave is usually to buy food since they never have any in the house (wtf?) but I like it. I get to have a nice calm time where it's just me and the critters. Jack and Cosmo are two large ridiculous looking labradoodles, but they behave well enough. And the barn kittens come up to the house and beg for milk, and they are just plain cute.

There is a huge 56inch flatscreen above the fireplace in the basement. Wifi, a fully stocked liquor cabinet that I have permission to raid (but I'm not...long story) and a comfy couch and bed. The only downside? I can't really sleep. It's too quiet in the country, and no streetlights. Grumble. That, and for some inexplicable reason I'm afraid of starring in my own version of the film 'The Strangers.' I read too much about murder/serial killers that I've become paranoid. Grumble again.

Oh, there isn't cable. Who the FUCK doesn't have cable/sat TV in today's day and age? My uncle and step-aunt, that's who. Why have a nice TV if you aren't going to pay for quality programming? So tomorrow night I'm going home to watch Cropsey, because I can't fucking wait. I was also told I don't have to sleep here, as long I come back in the morning to feed/let the dogs out. I don't like driving in the country at night, I don't want to hit a deer.

Anyway, I'm hunkering down for the storm. If you don't hear from me again, it's been nice knowing you!

Baking disaster? Or Ice Cream delight?

I'm an amazing cook. I mean, I don't have the training for fine dining and stuff like that, but presented a cupboard full of seemingly mismatched ingredients, I can pull together something pretty damned awesome. It comes from my mother's father's side, the Fischers. In that family, recipes are considered taboo, you memorize anything that needs to be exact. The rest you eyeball and make up as you go.

Spring greens salad, spanish olives, shredded parmesean cheese with a lemon vinagrette and home made cinnamon crutons (yep, cinnamon). French bread baked with olive oil and fresh roasted garlic sprinkled over it while baking. Lime pepper chicken with steamed broccolini and depending on the mood either red potatoes with a butter sauce or carrot puree with spices. Dessert could be a rhubarb and cherry tart with ice cream. Yeah, that's actually a fairly easy dinner for me to pull together. I also love burgers/steaks on the fire, corn on the cob and other fixings. I do some awesome asian foods too. I rock.

But I can't bake to save my freakin' life. I shouldn't say that, I can bake. I've made some amazingly-tasty treats. Last year for Chrismas, I was in charge of making all the cookies for multiple parties. And several different varieties. I had just discovered SFR (thanks to Patrick HT Doyle) listened to hours and hours while cooking nearly 500 different cookies, bars, and dipping several pounds of pretzels in chocolate. Again, I rock.

But today my cookies were a disaster. The zuccini muffins weren't even that great, but I made a recipe that I personally don't like, since they were for someone else. Everything tasted amazing, that isn't the problem. But I just couldn't make the cookies not spread out. It was as if they had too much butter in them. They spread and melted on the pan instead of baking. When they were finally were done, they looked terrible. I had also made Ranger Cookies, a type I hadn't done before. I didn't use the coconut because I think it tastes like sunscreen, I subsituted wheat germ. Ah well. What doesn't look pretty makes a very yummy ice cream topping.

Bella!

I'm stealing a format from Jason. No apologies. That's how I roll. I'm having a pretty rough time these days. I got yet another job rejection today, and I'll admit, I've been mopy ever since. But today I'm sitting on the couch in the parlor, feeling sorry for myself, when my dear Bella comes and puts her head on my knee.

This is Bella. She's a 2ish year old Golden/Black Lab. On September 4th of 2009, my parents adopted her (I went along). Since the moment we brought her home, she picked me as her favorite human. She follows me everywhere in the house. She refuses to sleep in anyone's bed but mine. She is glued to my side. When I'm gone overnight, she apparently paces the house and stares out the window all night until I return.

Bella is extremely hyper, which sucks for me because I'm fat and lazy. She's not quite leash trained, she pulls so hard I almost never walk her. But I do like to take her to the dog park to run and play with other dogs. Her name when she was dumped (yea, her owners tied her to a post outside the shelter in the middle of the night) was Bella. It was on her tag. So we decided to keep it. I did not name her after Twilight, I assure you! She has many nicknames. Bellzabub, Izzie Bella Smella, Itsy Bitsy Bella, and my personal favorite: Little Fucker.

So now I'm done stealing Jason's format and gushing over my dog. She rocks. She's much better than a cat. And she totally cheered me up today.

I'm blissfully buzzed. Feeling brutally honest. Sending text messages. Going to wake up and want to back peddle. Won't.

Odelia Kolles

In the 4th grade, I wrote a ghost story that was published in a collection of stories by children across the state. I have retyped it here for your reading pleasure:

Odelia Kolles
By Rachel Wolf
Grade 4
Kennedy Elementary School
St. Cloud Community Schoools, District 742
Drama



I'm Katherine Wayner. I live in Avon, Minnesota. The story I'm about tot ell you is so creepy! It began like this.

I was sitting in the back yard playing marbles when I heard clanking from the graveyard beside my house. It was the most peculiar thing, I thought. When I continued to play marbles, the clanking continues. I missed, my attention was drawn to the clanking. Then, I decided to go to the graveyard to make sure everything was O.K.

As I was walking in to the graveyard I noticed the flowers by my feet. Such pretty flowers, I thought. Purple, blue, yellow, red and pink. I heard more clanking. I jumped! Then I noticed a nice-looking young woman in a pink dress. It was a long old fashioned dress with black boots. She had brown hair in a bun.

She looked in my eyes, her eyes looked like a kitten's, both soothing and devilish. "I want you to thelp me plant flowers!" she said. I realized I was in the center of the graveyard. "I will." I said, in a meek voice. We talked and I found that the clanking noise was the shovel clanking against rocks in the ground.

Odelia Kolles was her name. The next day I went back. I noticed the gravestone where we were planting flowers. It said:

Hier Ruhnt
In Memory of
Odelia Kolles
Died
1820 Sept. 18th
Born
1800 Dec. 3rd

Some old poetry I found

This is one of my old poems I found. Out of the hundreds...its the only one that I actually like. I wrote it junior year of college, I think I meant it to be a song. It's about meeting this really interesting guy and getting to know him. It's not a love poem, it's a lust poem. As in...a lust to just get to know someone. If that makes sense. Anyway everyone...it sucks I know.


FULL UP

I just want to drink you and drink you until I am full up
Because there is nothing like having that full feeling
after an afternoon with you
there is a possession element inherent in our conversation
there is a comfort and pain in our contradiction
but that's okay

there is a time for everything and place for being ourselves
but it's not here, its so far away and somewhere else
so let's get going
it's hard to exist in a metaphor when your gums are sore
from holding onto cnady dreams while you sleep
in a cold cold place

I just want to drink you and drink you until I am full up
because there is nothing like getting drunk off of another person
then passing out on his floor
I could sleep for hours with my face pressed against the carpet
wake up with the texture of his possession against my skin
something to remember him by

and you know I'll never see him ever again
and a party is the place where all this shit begins
someone take me home
I just want to drink you and drink you until I am full up
because there's nothing

like that full feeling

Oops I did it again.

I am never ever again listening to Frankie. I wasn't going to this time, in fact I resisted it for a while. Then I finally caved and BAM! Hit in the face with reality.

My playlist

In no real order, this is a playlist I made last night that I've been listening to on my iPod all freakin' day. Thought I'd share it with you. Click on any of the songs to listen to them on YouTube.

My My Kind of Girl - The Ramones
I Want You Around - The Ramones
Danny Says - The Ramones
As Is - Ani Difranco
Untouchable Face - Ani Difranco
Everest - Ani Difranco
Life Boat - Ani Difranco
Thickfreakness - The Black Keys
Have Love Will Travel - The Black Keys
Blue Blood Blues - The Dead Weather
Stop Breaking Down - The White Stripes
Your Southern Can is Mine - The White Stripes
I'll Believe in Anything - Wolf Parade
This Heart's on Fire - Wolf Parade
Read My Mind - The Killers
Smile Like You Mean It - The Killers
Crossfire - Brandon Flowers
Reagan - Whirlwind Heat
Train Tracks at Dawn - Folded Light
She's Already Gone - The Shys
Summer the Dreamer 1997 - HalloweenTown
If You're Worried -HalloweenTown
What Do I Get - The Buzzcocks
Orgasm Addict - The Buzzcocks