Someone's having a birthday

Who could it be?

And is there a better present than a cupcake with an icing dinosaur? No, there isn't.

Real women eat tri-tip

So last night's convening of the Women's Caucus was its usual hilarious self. I am not sure what it is about gathering a bunch of Christian women together on a Friday night for dinner and laughter that brings out the random in Sacramento, but hey, we're always down for a good time.

Seven of us (counting Baby Sammy) hit the Buckhorn Grill, at 18th and L, and commandeered a couple of tables outside. I think four of us ordered the Bacon Cheddar Buck -- tri-tip, bacon and cheddar cheese on a soft white bread thing. Behold the glory:


There was a salad ordered by one of the more dietarily responsible of us, and even a Little Buck (kid's meal) -- which looked tasty, too:

Interspersed with the food was screaming laughter, a cranky panhandler with a story of woe whose logic was pretty obviously flawed, and several quite drunk young men who told us the name "Mallory" means "unlucky" (?) but wanted to know if we'd still name our daughters that (um, no), wanted fist bumps (um, no) and I think also, potentially, dates. Their ardor was undeterred by the presence of a three-month-old baby, a woman who plainly said one of the young women at the table was her daughter, and the fact that none of us appeared the slightest bit interested.

After several hours of this craziness, we set back off into the night, returning to our homes and real lives. It was likely our last get together with Lindsay, who selfishly leaves us all to go to college next week.

I just treasure these nights with them so much. What a blessing. What a hoot.

A portion of my morning's internal dialogue, two days after getting the cartilege in my left ear pierced

Alarm. *hit snooze* Alarm. *hit snooze* Alarm. *)^$%$

Dog out. Feed cat. CNN: on.

Coffee. Coffee. Coffee.

Internets. Michael Vick. *(^&$#& Healthcare reform. *(^&$#&

Stairs. Shower on. Brush hair. GAH SNAGGED NEW EARRING HOLY CATS GAH. (^&$#&

Shower. Shampoo. SNAG! SNAG SNAG! Gosh DANG it. Ow. SHAMPOO STINGS. Stupid. Gah.

Conditioner. SNAG! SNAG! Ow! Owowowowow!

Rinse. Carefully. Waiting for pain. Hm.

Dry off. Comb out hair. GAH! Snagging! GAH!!!

You get the idea...

Easy dessert, or poignant, realistic portrayal of woman's downward emotional spiral?

Well good gracious, if this isn't one of the most disturbing little bits of "advertising" I've seen in a while. A 1950s ad for, of all things Jello pudding -- is there a happier dessert? I'd thought not, either, until I saw this horror that manages to actually demonstrate what a psychotic break might look like if it were to happen near dinnertime. In 1952.

Via the geniuses at BoingBoing.

In which I proclaim my love for precooked bacon

Anyone who knows me for more than about 15 minutes knows I love bacon. Perhaps to an unhealthy degree. To date I have had two birthday celebrations where bacon was a featured ingredient, I put bacon in my grilled cheese sandwiches (which I also make with Velveeta slices) (don't hate -- I'm from Texas and it's fabulous), Lynnie gave me a bacon cookbook one time that included desserts with bacon in them. In short: bacon, bacon, bacon. As often as possible, as much as possible -- bacon.

Maybe a year ago, a bunch of us were at Lynnie's house (I can't remember why now), and she had some precooked bacon. It was curious -- there were these sort of slabs of bacon that had been cooked, separated by layers of wax paper and then packaged. All you had to do was pop it into the microwave to warm it up, and tah-dah -- bacon.

I am not sure why I didn't immediately recognize the genius of this whole concept -- it could have been the migraine meds I was on at the time dampening my enthusiasm. We'll blame that. But really -- the whole deal with bacon (aside from arteriosclerosis) is that it's a huge pain to cook. It produces a ton of grease (which you then have to dispose of somehow since no one uses bacon grease to cook with anymore) which spatters all over the place, and you have to keep turning it and turning it. Plus it's also really easy to over- or under-cook and burn yourself in the process.

All those problems evaporate with precooked bacon. You open the package, plunk however many slices you want between a couple of paper towels, stick it in the microwave for less than 30 seconds, and bam! -- bacon, y'all. I think I am on my third package of the stuff in three weeks, and was greatly relieved to see that there was a store-brand version of this at my local Safeway. It's nice to be able to meet my need for bacon and economize at the same time.

For better or worse, I am eating a lot more bacon these days, thanks to the precooked stuff. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

Alternative ending for the Beer Summit

This made me laugh.

This is cool

A Slovenian choir simulates rain.

Daisy has a crush on Tom Cruise

Here she is on the couch last night, watching "Minority Report."

She watched for probably 15 minutes straight, without looking away. I think she was mesmerized by Tom Cruise's performance. Boo doesn't share her affection; he slept through the whole thing.