I Changed Someone’s Life Today. With Queso.

There are a lot of tourists from around the world in Austin this week for SXSW. For the most part, I find them equal parts annoying and entertaining because “Yay! Welcome to the place I love” and “Boo. Traffic is terrible and all of the restaurants downtown raise their prices.”

I was picking up a few things to make dinner at Whole Foods last night when a very pleasant Irish woman approached me and asked me if I could explain to her what queso was. She was under the impression that it was “just cheese”. I smiled my queso loving smile and proceeded to explain to her in minute detail the glory that is queso and how it has spices and tomatoes and chilies and onions in it and how it would CHANGE HER LIFE. Then, I insisted she try some with some freshly made tortilla chips. She did and I could see that, in fact, it had changed her life. She bought a very large to-go container of it and thanked me profusely.

Terrible traffic seems a small price to pay to share my love of queso. That is what SXSW has taught me this year.

The Scene That Will Haunt Me Daily For The Rest Of My Days

There is a really fantastic TV show called “Bomb Girls”. I had read about it, but since I don’t live in Canada, I had never seen it until NETFLIX. I would like to take this opportunity to thank Netflix for  being Netflix and bringing me so many shows and movies that I can watch from my couch while wearing sweats and binge eating Watermelon Sour Patch Kids.

Anyway, Bomb Girls. It is SO GOOD. Watch it y’all.

Except…..

Except there is this one scene in the very first episode that will haunt you forever and I’m saying that as someone who has seen a lot of gruesome things and not flinched. This made me flinch. Hard. And I can’t stop thinking about it. It just pops into my head randomly and horrifies me all over again.

I’m just going to tell you what it is in the hope of exorcising it from my brain. Don’t read on if you have a weak stomach or are prone to vomiting in your mouth at the slightest provocation.

A woman has her scalp ripped off by a hook.

That scene will haunt me for the rest of my days.

Posted in TV Tagged

I Don’t Want To Indirectly Enable Serial Killers

Captain Thoughtful and I always see one of our neighbors grilling on his driveway and he always waves hello to us and in general seems like a totally nice fellow. And then I ruined it.

Captain Thoughtful: There is our buddy out grilling again. He’s so friendly!

Me: He is. 

Long Pause

Me: But, what if he isn’t? 

Captain Thoughtful: Um?

Me: We don’t really know anything about him except that he always waves and grills out almost every night. 

Captain Thoughtful: Yes….

Me: What if he’s like, grilling *people* meat or something? He could be a cannibalistic serial killer and we’re just passing by thinking what a nice guy he probably is. 

Captain Thoughtful: I suppose. 

Me: And like, we are *enabling* him by waving. If he is killing and grilling people then we are partly to blame because we totally encourage him with our friendly waves.

Captain Thoughtful: I don’t think that would hold up in court darlin. 

Me: I’m just saying. 

 

Louisiana.

I am so behind on my write-ups for my “A Year In Books – 50 States” (which is what I am calling it now because I can’t think of another thing to call it, suggestions welcome), but I’m hoping to catch up in the next couple of weeks.

Onwards.

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For Louisiana, I read “Mad Madame Lalaurie” by Victoria Cosner Love and Lorelei Shannon…because I’m very attracted to the macabre (side note – I once knew a guy who pronounced this word  “mac-a-bray” even though I corrected him on multiple occasions because he “understood how language works” better than  I did.)

Also, I read this book because I’ve been on many a ghost tour in New Orleans and we always stop by this house and I’ve noticed that the stories on the tour are getting progressively more gruesome so I wanted to know the facts. And, if I’m being honest, American Horror Story: Coven may have played a role…..because Kathy Bates y’all

It’s a bit hard to say what I thought about this book. Well researched certainly, however I found the writing a bit choppy and apologist. I definitely appreciated all of the research and attempts to tell the story that the historical documents we have available to us tell, which is definitely different than the ghost tour versions. But, I was uncomfortable with some of the prose, which at times felt like a justification of her actions or an attempt to redeem her reputation. In the end, that isn’t what the authors were attempting to do at all, but it came across that way to me in certain bits of the book.

I wanted to know the story the historical documents had to tell and I got that, but I also got a bit of an apologist vibe which I wasn’t thrilled with. Again, very well researched but this isn’t something I would read again.

Further Proof I Will Never Be Cool

I just discovered Angry Birds on my phone. Apparently (and the cool kids told me this) Angry Birds was already a thing and I should be playing Candy Crush. 

I tried playing Candy Crush but I just can’t get into it. I would NEVER crush candy. I would eat the candy. Candy is not for crushing, it’s for eating. 

On the other hand, I can fully empathize with the plight of the Angry Birds. The pigs aren’t just stealing their eggs – they are kidnapping their children! I stand with the birds y’all, and if my excellent aim can ensure their children sleep safe in their eggs at night, well then, I am all in and it is my duty to play. 

According to the cool kids, I am “being weird” about Angry Birds. Fun fact, if I had a dollar for every time someone said I was “being weird” about something, I would be exceedingly rich. Like, Bill Gates would ask me to spot him $1,000,000 kind of rich. 

I Love Whole Foods Therefore I Am Silent

I crazy love Whole Foods. Like, writes inappropriate fanfic levels of crazy love. But every time I go there, and this is fairly often, I become immediately intimidated and silent. Basically, every woman there either looks like a supermodel or the world’s hippest Mom. Like, a Mom who plays bass in an indie rock band but still has time to nurture her children’s imaginations and cold press her own juices. And all of the men look like on-the-brink of fame musicians or poets.

And there is so much flannel that somehow looks sexy? My flannel never looks sexy it looks like, you know, flannel.

As if that isn’t intimidating enough, I have no food intolerances. I handle gluten, dairy, wheat, and sugar just fine. So, I don’t feel like I belong to any of the totally awesome sections of the store that cater to specific dietary intolerances. I just know that if I wander into those sections, everyone will know I’m a fraud who can eat cheese with baquettes.  A few weeks ago, I bought some gluten free brownies and then hung my head in shame for the next two hours because I didn’t really need them to be gluten free and what if someone who really has gluten allergies didn’t get a brownie that day because a gluten-tolerant butthead bought the only brownies they can eat? WHAT. IF.

And the juice cleanses. Do I need to cleanse? If I didn’t, why where there be so many freshly pressed juice sections? I just know I’m missing out on something there. Everyone else seems to know the secret of glowing skin and a bodacious bod – is it cleanses? Is it? Why does one juice cost $9? I have so many questions, but every time an impeccably styled Whole Foods model/employee asks me if I need help, I immediately become a mute. Because I know if I say anything, they will know that I eat at Taco Bell sometimes and they will shun me.

It’s better to stay quiet and nod (but like in a cool way) than be outed at Whole Foods as someone who occasionally eats Taco Bell. This is one of the few things in life I know to be absolutely incontrovertibly true.

I Am Officially An Old.

Last week, in our neighborhood there was a teenage driver going about 45mph in a 10mph zone, so Captain Thoughtful rolled down his window and yelled “YOU NEED A ROLE MODEL!” at the reckless teen driver. To which I added “AND STAY OFF OUR LAWN!”

These comments could have been hilarious coming from two under-thirties with no kids…had we not been completely serious.

We are officially olds.

I’m A Professional.

So, I have a job that pays me moneys. In fact, and I know this is going to be almost impossible to believe, I am the boss of people. The boss of people.

Let that sink in.

On a recent conference call, I had a client say this:

“It’s like this, our platform is pushing into Facebook from behind and then their platform is pulling out on top of Facebook.”

And then I had to mute the line because I was laughing so hard.

I am a professional who is the boss of people. But, I’m still me.