A couple of blocks from work a woman who's about his age caught up with us and proceeded to totally ignore me and talk to cute co-worker. It was like I wasn't even there. I was in a good mood, so I just found it kind of funny, but it was definitely strange.
There's a guy in my office who's friends with my very cute co-worker (and real estate agent!) K. He's funny and super nice when he comes over.
And then when I pass him when I'm by myself, and not with K, he'll look right at me and there's not even a glimmer of recognition. It doesn't bother me, because I could honestly give a shit about this guy. But it's interesting in the "you are not nearly the "nice guy" you think you are" way.
mac - FOR REAL!?!?!
I love Mac to bits.
Non-answer? Well, last season the main Eureka poster had someone else's body instead of Colin's. Maybe they're redressing the balance.
My krav cohort gets a lot of attention from the ladies. So much so that they invite themselves out with us a lot. These are nice women, but he totally doesn't believe me that they'd never care to go to dinner with me alone. At least, not at first.
Just went sex toy shopping for an off-to-college gift for the youngest krav instructor. I think she needs a book to go with the feather boa duckie vibrator. Perhaps that one about sex tips from gay guys.
She'll be receiving from other people, IIRC, a good set of restraints and many condoms. She's so lucky to be growing up around us.
For some reason this weekend I decided to make proper vanilla ice cream (custard cooled overnight and all) and bread pudding. As well as cooking the test recipe sent to me by Cook's Illustrated. Such unpractical thinking.
But the Roomba talk (I think mine's named Bert) reminds me I need to pick up after myself in the living room and set that puppy chugging. Maybe I'll even pick up in the bedroom so it can work while I'm at krav tomorrow.
The chicken? Or did you get a different recipe?
Mac just cracks my shit up every time we get a report. Such an amazing kid.
The chicken. Looks simple enough, plus should gibe with my shy taste buds.
Yeah, it looked good, and easy. I'm crazy busy now, so not eating at home enough to justify it. But I sent it to my dad to try out.
And then when I pass him when I'm by myself, and not with K, he'll look right at me and there's not even a glimmer of recognition.
Oh yeah. I knew a particularly egregious example of That Guy in and after college. We had friends in common in school, so met several times then. He never remembered me. Then after, he was dating my best friend's roommate, and still no. We had breakfast together more than once, and I was brand new to him every time. @@
and a Swarovski crystal embedded in the beak.
Ouch?
But I love the idea that the littlest krav instructor is getting such a useful going away gift.
She's so lucky to be growing up around us.
She really is.
the animal wars is TOTALLY bon's doing.
The crystal is an odd sex toy choice. But it was so cute!
I should cook at home more. I'm having a guest over to dinner tomorrow, and that's what I'll serve. I have the perfect out if it's not tasty! It's been especially a long time since I served a vaguely balanced meal. I'm even going to cook greenstuff (pan-roasted asparagus & mushrooms). Hopefully this signals the return of my appetite.
Okay, the custard for the ice cream is cooling. I'm not sure why it took me so long to realize that bread pudding, egg nog, and 'proper' ice cream are all the same thing. Bake it, freeze it, drink it...it's egg custard. With hopefully little actual egg taste. And then cheesecake is egg custard with cheese, and quiche is savoury egg custard...it goes on and on.
My National Geographic DNA testing thingy is at the DNA isolation stage. I'm not precisely sure what that means, other than I can track it on the web now. I wonder if there's any way I could steal DNA from one of my mother's brothers. So we could have the matrilineal and the other thing tested on her side. And then my dad could have both tests run on his DNA.
Okay, maybe a little lie-down before the bread pudding.
