Just out of boredom, I got myself up on diarist.net. clix me! I know. It’s lame. But why not.
Just out of boredom, I got myself up on diarist.net.
clix me! I know. It’s lame. But why not.
Month: December 2004
Skull Me, Redux
I posted recently about my hunt for a really cool skull ring. Surprisingly hard to find, actually. You wouldn’t think so, but almost to a one, they’re all ugly, with a garish “let’s make it scary” look. All I want is a ring that really looks like a skull. This is made worse by the […]
I posted recently about my hunt for a really cool skull ring.
Surprisingly hard to find, actually. You wouldn’t think so, but almost to a one, they’re all ugly, with a garish “let’s make it scary” look. All I want is a ring that really looks like a skull.
This is made worse by the fact that Iggy Pop recently released an album called Skull Ring. So any web search tends to lead to Iggy.
I found some good ones, finally. Still not that Clapton one, and damn SeriousSilver for going out of business. But some really good ones.
Happy Birthday Andie
Happy Birthday, Andie. I love you, and god DAMN I’m glad I know you. I hope to celebrate you forever, somehow or other.
The World’s Best Peanut Butter Fudge
The Recipe: Peanut Butter Fudge (makes 36 pieces) 4 cups sugar 2 Tablespoons corn syrup 1 1/3 cups milk 1/2 cup + 2 Tablespoons smooth peanut butter (Jif/Skippy type, not natural) 1 teaspoon vanilla 1 cup coarsely chopped peanuts (we usually left this out) In a saucepan, combine sugar, corn syrup, and milk. Stir together […]
The Recipe:
- Peanut Butter Fudge
(makes 36 pieces)
4 cups sugar
2 Tablespoons corn syrup
1 1/3 cups milk
1/2 cup + 2 Tablespoons smooth peanut butter (Jif/Skippy type, not natural)
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup coarsely chopped peanuts (we usually left this out)
In a saucepan, combine sugar, corn syrup, and milk. Stir together well. Cover pan and bring to a boil slowly. Remove cover and cook mixture until a small amount dropped into cold water forms a soft ball (or do it the easy way and get a candy thermometer, and cook to 236 degrees F). Remove from heat; add peanut butter and vanilla, but do not stir. Cool to lukewarm. Add peanuts (or don’t, we never did), and beat until creamy (Wow, I like that phrase) and thick. Pour out onto a buttered pan. When cool, cut into squares.
The Story:
This is a slightly modified version of a recipe from the Sunset Cookbook of Favorite Recipes by Emily Chase, published in 1949.
I don’t know when my mother got this cookbook, nor do I know when she first made the World’s Best Peanut Butter Fudge. But I know this was a holiday fixture in my house throughout my childhood.
I still, once in a while, buy a lump of peanut butter fudge in a candy shop. Every time, every single time, I’ve been disappointed. It’s never as good as mom’s. It’s never even close.
Emperor Norton Bridge
Days when I wish I lived in San Francisco — days when I am glad I live near San Francisco. There’s a movement afoot to rename the Bay Bridge after Emperor Norton. Norton I, Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico. This guy was real. He’s turned up in Tim Powers novels, in […]
Days when I wish I lived in San Francisco — days when I am glad I live near San Francisco.
There’s a movement afoot to rename the Bay Bridge after Emperor Norton. Norton I, Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico.
This guy was real. He’s turned up in Tim Powers novels, in Sandman, and I suspect many other places. In his day, policemen saluted him in the street, and he was generally honored as royalty throughout the city.
Only here, San Francisco, would a movement to re-name a major bridge in honor of such a figure get taken seriously.
God, I hope they can pull it off. Though I still disagree with the Emperor about calling it Frisco.
Survivor’s Ami, naked
Ami, the fake-breasted lesbian femme-fatal of Survivor Vanuatu, bare-ass naked. I guess these are from Playboy but I don’t know. About all I can say is — she looks as fake in these photos as her breasts look now. She’s a cutie now, but in this pics, she looks like a cartoon character, and not […]
Ami, the fake-breasted lesbian femme-fatal of Survivor Vanuatu, bare-ass naked. I guess these are from Playboy but I don’t know.
About all I can say is — she looks as fake in these photos as her breasts look now. She’s a cutie now, but in this pics, she looks like a cartoon character, and not in a good way.
Fake tits. Who thinks that’s a good idea?
Spanking Art
I just wanted to put in a plug for one of my favorite dirty little blogs, Jennifer’s Spanking Art, “Young ladies firmly corrected, domestic discipline.” <a href="http://otkart.blogspot.com/2004/12/hard-work-for-old-chap.html" Yummy.
I just wanted to put in a plug for one of my favorite dirty little blogs, Jennifer’s Spanking Art, “Young ladies firmly corrected, domestic discipline.”
<a href="http://otkart.blogspot.com/2004/12/hard-work-for-old-chap.html" 
Yummy.
Bought a Guitar to Punish Your Ma
It’s been a long time since I’ve really played much guitar. I’m not a guitar player; I know how, in a rudementary way, and I own two guitars (though inexplicably I almost always seem to have at least three hanging around, not to mention someone’s mixing board, a couple mikes, and sometimes an amp — […]
It’s been a long time since I’ve really played much guitar. I’m not a guitar player; I know how, in a rudementary way, and I own two guitars (though inexplicably I almost always seem to have at least three hanging around, not to mention someone’s mixing board, a couple mikes, and sometimes an amp — I know a lotta musicians).
But I don’t really play. I’ll pick up a friend’s axe to check it out, like when Chris, my main man, brings over his latest aquistion, and strum out a few chords. Like with drums, I know enough to watch and listen and evaluate, to talk shop with players and keep up. I can tell what a guy’s doing when he plays something flashy. But can’t really much get though a song anymore, it’s been too long and I’m forgetting.
But I love guitars. The sound of them, the look, the feel of one in my hands. It feels right when I strap on a guitar. Chris’ new telecaster felt like an old friend when I slung it on. I didn’t even have it plugged in, I just wanted to feel it.
Suddenly, I’m thinking, I need a guitar.
My acoustic is actually a really nice guitar. I’ve had friends borrow it to record, since it’s got a nice tone and is very playable. I’m happy with it, and so are the people who regularly pick it up to play when we get jam parties going. But my electric is pretty much a piece of crap. It’s an ugly white strat copy with a sort of explorer-looking head, cheap pickups, and the world’s worst tremolo bridge that’s going to need replacing if the things ever going to be worth playing. But you know, it doesn’t matter, I don’t play.
I should play though. I don’t know why I don’t. It doesn’t matter if I’m good. But I should be playing.
Then I found this thing:
Epiphone Flamekat. Go ahead, click it, it gets bigger.
You know, I usually can resist this shit. But — fuck, look at the inlays. Look at the knobs. How fucking cool is this guitar?
I know. I don’t need a guitar. I have a guitar. I have two. But… Dammit. I want it. I want to put a hook on my wall and display it.
I want…
I want to play guitar again. Looking at this stupid thing, I want to plug in and hack out social distortion songs. Story Of My Life.
Santa? I know, what I did to you wasn’t fair. But really, I’ve been a good boy. Maybe you could…
Nevermind. That’s a lie. I’ve not been a good boy at all this year. But this isn’t a good boy’s guitar, now, is it?
Dude, it’s like…
You know, those nutty linguists. Always takling the ambiguity out of things. Not just for slackers: linguist deciphers uses of word ‘dude’ Dude, I grew up in Nor-Cal. You don’t have to tell me abouy the word dude. Though I have particular fondness for the way my friend Rachel, born in Canada and currently living […]
You know, those nutty linguists. Always takling the ambiguity out of things.
Not just for slackers: linguist deciphers uses of word ‘dude’
Dude, I grew up in Nor-Cal. You don’t have to tell me abouy the word dude. Though I have particular fondness for the way my friend Rachel, born in Canada and currently living in Connecticut, pronounces it; “Dyooood.”
Bum’s Rush for the Owner
I don’t write about sports that much. There are some reasons. Hockey’s a no-op this season; baseball season’s over and I’m not really that much a baseball fan. I loath basketball. But mostly, the SF 49ers absolutely suck balls this season. I am 100% down with what Ira Miller says on the matter. It’s all […]
I don’t write about sports that much. There are some reasons. Hockey’s a no-op this season; baseball season’s over and I’m not really that much a baseball fan. I loath basketball. But mostly, the SF 49ers absolutely suck balls this season.
I am 100% down with what Ira Miller says on the matter. It’s all about the owners, and our owners are the problem.
If you have not been following along, this year’s 49ers now have one of the worst records in football, and either the worst ever for this team, or nearly that. They’re the worst they’ve been since the late 1970’s and the worst they’ve been since I started following the team. And they’re clearly a headless chicken, showing no hope that they get it enough to make anything better next year or the year after.
York has to go. He’s not a football man. He’s a fucking doctor and he needs to get back to doctoring, or hand over the checkbook to his football staff and shut up.
Ira nails it, go read that column.