Fun/Disgusting Things. Part I.

Pore strips

Despite the risk of letting it dry for too long and having to choose between skin grafts on your face and having the strip permanently attached to your schnoz, they are fun. I have recently become re-addicted in a futile attempt to clean out my gross nose pores. I don't know that they've helped at all, but I am nastily fascinated by the junk that is stuck to the strip when I finally get it off of my face.

Will there be a Part II to Fun/Disgusting Things? Maybe. If I remember.

I think Mario might have gotten a water balloon to the nuts.

I had my iTunes set to shuffle today, and there were some good songs that I had forgotten about.

First up is a song by Adam Gilbert. For some reason the song reminds me of Jesus Christ Superstar. The music video is weird as snake shoes, but mildly entertaining.




Next up: "Midnight Apt. #9 Blues" by Mike Therieau. I got this from the iLike application on facebook a while back.




Man, I could do this all night. I'll curb myself and leave you with one more. No idea if this band has a deal anywhere or is independently releasing music, but I love their sound. Here's "Dear Miss Bliss" by cinderpop.




Edit: I just noticed that two out of the three songs have pizzicato in them. I'm trying to decide if a song that incorporated all of my weird musical likes (banjo, pizzicato, and bagpipes) would be indescribably awesome or terrible. Probably terrible.

Smells like fall to me!

I think that I may have book ADD. Either that or I need to go to couples therapy each time I start reading a new book. I say this because I start novels and, after I'm about halfway, I pick up something else to read. Generally the original book is some great literary work, and the intermittent book is some piece of fluffy mind-candy. Example: I'm reading East of Eden (again). During this current read through, I have picked up at least three of my semi-crap fantasy books by Mercedes Lackey. Poor Easty, being thrown over for Bedlam's Bard floozies.

Yesterday I was incredibly bored, and that somehow morphed itself into me having a strong urge to bake a pie. Said pie has now been baked, and is cooling on a rack. The pumpkin pie recipe I used is below. Minus using the whole pumpkin; I just got a can of pumpkin puree.

• 1 small pumpkin, 2 1/2 lb.
• Pastry for a 9-inch pie
• 1/4 cup maple syrup
• 1/4 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
• 1 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
• 1 tsp. ground ginger
• 1/2 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
• 1/4 tsp. ground cloves
• 3 eggs, beaten
• 3/4 cup half-and-half
• Sweetened whipped cream for serving

Preheat an oven to 350°F. Lightly oil a baking sheet.

Cut the pumpkin in half through the stem end and place, cut side down, on the baking sheet. Bake until easily pierced with a knife, about 1 hour. Let cool. Scoop out the seeds and fibers and discard. Puree the flesh in a food processor fitted with a metal blade until smooth. Measure out 1 1/2 cups; set aside. Increase the oven temperature to 375°F.

On a well-floured work surface, roll out the pastry into a 12-inch round. Transfer to a 9-inch pie dish and gently press into the bottom and sides of the dish. Trim the edges, leaving a 1 1/2-inch overhang, then fold under the overhang and crimp to form an attractive rim. Prick the bottom and sides of the pastry with a fork. Freeze for 10 minutes. Line the pastry with aluminum foil and fill with pie weights. Bake for 15 minutes. Remove the weights and foil and continue to bake until lightly golden, 10 to 15 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack and let cool. Leave the oven set at 375°F.

In a bowl, whisk together the pumpkin puree, maple syrup, brown sugar, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, cloves, eggs and half-and-half until well mixed. Pour into the baked pie shell. Bake until a skewer inserted into the center comes out clean, 45 to 55 minutes. Let cool for at least 30 minutes. Serve the pie with the whipped cream on the side.

I'm also trying out some mulling spices in apple cider, and the house smells like delicious. And some coffee filters tied up with cotton string work very well in lieu of cheesecloth.

Is that picture slightly creepy? Yes. Yes it is. Deal. I made dinner tonight too, but I neglected to take a picture of it. Be assured that it was delicious.

Banjo equals win.

I promised you music. Here it is.

First up is the Mynabirds. I was killing some time in Homer's in the Old Market and randomly picked up their CD. A little bluesy, a little jazzy, and all good stuff.






And to continue with the food fighting theme, here's a music video from Travis. Not a new band, but great music.




And last but certainly not least is the video for "Little Lion Man" by Mumford & Sons. I saw them at Lollapalooza, and they are amazing. I totally dig the banjo. For those of you who have read East of Eden, they also have a song called "Timshel;" some of the lyrics are taken straight from the novel.




And yes, I do spend quite a bit of time on the YouTube.

Optimus Prime should guest lecture.

I had a lecture on graph transformations this morning. It would have been way more interesting if it had somehow incorporated sentient robotic life; I should probably bring it up with the math department.

Far more annoying than the incredibly repetitive lecture was the guy sitting next to me. Yes, scruffy teenage seat neighbor, the lecture is boring. Yes, pimply boy whose voice has probably just broken, you did learn this in high school. Yes, immature whiny kid, the lecturer's English isn't perfect. But I would like to see you get up in front of a bunch of Chinese college students and conduct a lecture in Mandarin. Or Cantonese. Either way, SHUT UP. There are some students in the class who probably didn't learn this prior to college who will benefit from the repetition and the math may not be intuitive for everyone. So quit being a smug douche-waffle and shut your insufferable pie hole.

Now, I find the lectures just as boring as this guy obviously did, but I try to respect the other students in the class. And I had a crossword puzzle. But this dude was just being a pill. I gave said seat neighbor several looks complete with eyebrow raise, which were meant to say, "Really? Really." He did not get the message and continued to mutter things under his breath. Finally I turned around and gave the over-the-glasses, exasperated, you're-starting-to-piss-me-off look.

I think it's pretty clear how well I put up with BS.

Anyway, satisfied that Seat Neighbor had gotten the message, I turned around and finished filling in the crossword. At the end of algebra I headed to my speech class. Guess who sat next to me? Jerky Seat Neighbor. Shit.

That brings me to today's speech class. We were supposed to write an outline based on some news article that we found interesting, and today was speech-giving day. Some were good; some were not. Listening to certain speeches was both painful and embarrassing. It's like when someone sitting next to you on the bus audibly farts. Do you acknowledge the sound or the smell, or just sit there and let them live with the illusion that no one noticed?

Side note: Annoying Seat Neighbor's speech really sucked. Am I smug? You betcha. But only internally.

Disclaimer: My use of the word "douche" is not meant to be derogatory to women in any way. Duh. I just think the conjunction of certain words with "douche" is an amusing way to describe certain people, e.g. waffle, canoe, chandelier, etc.

Happy cows come from Wisconsin.

I went to California this past weekend to visit Western University. They have one of the DVM programs I'm interested in, and I thought that I should definitely visit this one. It's a bit... different. There are no lectures. Instead, there are small groups mediated by a professor. You're presented with a case, and are basically in charge of identifying your own learning issues, possible diagnoses, treatments, etc. It sounds scary, but a style of learning that I might like and do well in.

On Friday I was able to sit in on one of the problem-based learning (PBL) groups. It was fun and relaxed, and at one point the group was serenaded by the mediating professor a la Dean Martin. I think that the group/professor were a bit worried that they were intimidating me or that I was getting freaked out or overwhelmed.

Little do they know.

Yes, that is a denim jumpsuit. I will never need another Halloween costume.

Anyway, I think I made a good impression and that the prof I talked to liked me; hopefully that means that I'll get an interview!

After the business was out of the way, my friend from LA and I had the rest of the weekend to play. It was a really fun day and a half. We went antique-ing, wandered down to the Santa Monica Pier, Muscle Beach, and the 3rd Street Promenade, and finished up the day at the Getty Center, which is a huge and amazing art museum. All in all it was a good weekend.

And to round out the post, here's a picture of some Wisconsin cheese in the shape of a giraffe.

The outhouse wall calendar exists.

I am officially employed. Sort of.

Upon returning to Wisconsin to live with my parents, I was determined that I would be financially independent. I don't know why, but accepting money from my parents has always made me a bit uncomfortable. And how lame would I feel living off of my parents at 24? I started looking online and in the classifieds and saw a seasonal listing for Borders. I thought, "I like books" and filled out the application (which involved a personality assessment; I always find those difficult to fill out because I think too much and the questions are crap and only offer the same four answer options for each question).

A few days later I got a call and went in for an interview. Long story short, I was hired and am now selling calendars. Wait, what? Oh yeah, the seasonal book store isn't set up yet, so I have to work at the Day by Day Calendars kiosk at the mall. Yup, I feel cool.

In addition to the cool factor, there are some pretty sweet rules that I'm supposed to follow:

1) You must remain within three feet of the kiosk at all times. Working a seven hour shift? You cannot pee or grab something to eat or drink. I must conclude that to work at this kiosk you must have a bladder capable of holding Lake Superior and must be able to live off of the food smells that come from the pretzel stand that is farther down the wing.

2) You are not allowed to have any personal effects at the kiosk. Having your monthly visitor? Too bad! You can't go to the bathroom anyway, so having tampons would just be a useless gesture anyway.

3) No jeans. All I have to say is eff that noise.

In the few shifts I have worked, I have had my cell phone with me, turned off the register monitor while running to the bathroom, and worn jeans. Now, lest you think I am a rule-breaking rabblerouser, I have been told by four other people working that those rules are crap and feel free to break them discreetly. For $7.25 an hour, thanks, I will.

In other news, Tess got a haircut. She now looks less like a mop and more like a dog:

And for another random thought (you were warned), I highly recommend The Reanimator, a dark roast coffee from Just Coffee Cooperative. It's fair trade and shade grown, and the art on the bag is a reasonably accurate depiction of me in the morning before a caffeine infusion.

Knowledge is an unending adventure at the edge of uncertainty.

Or so Jacob Bronowski, British mathematician and biologist tells me. I'm not so sure about the knowledge part, and I'm fairly certain that my life doesn't fit with the whole adventure theme, but uncertainty and I are past the nodding acquaintance stage in our relationship.

As you may have gathered from the blurb beneath the blog title, I'm applying to vet school. For the first time in a long time, I think I'm making the right decision for myself. However, I was missing a few requirements. Hello, freshmen speech class. College algebra, how was your summer? I had my first set of classes on Thursday, and I definitely felt old afterward. I can't decide if I'm going to enjoy playing the role of old lady among young whippersnappers or it's only going to make me uncomfortable. Either way, I'm stuck going to lectures about functions and eye contact until December.

Most of the time I probably won't be writing about any of the stuff that this blog is supposed to be about. There will probably be some food and music thrown in there. And some things that have nothing to do with anything. So. Let the games begin.