A rose by any other name... is still a deadly plant of horrors

On Monday, we went over to the in-laws' house.  They've moved to the other side of the country (thanks, economy!) but have kept their house here.  They'll be home for Christmas so we're trying to spruce up the place a bit.  In the course of decorating the front of the house, The Bastard came upon that annual obstacle.

The rose bushes.

First off, I'm not a big fan of roses anyway.  They're expensive.  They're cliche.  They're the type of flower that my grandmother, who likes both expensive and cliche, tried to talk me into having at my wedding (we went with star-gazer lilies).  The worst part?  With the exception of the pretty little flowers, they look like something out of Wes Craven's House of Flower Arrangements.

I wanted to set it on fire.  The Bastard pointed out that his parents' HOA might get mad.

Why why WHY does anyone plant these death plants??  The only reason my in-laws have them is because the neighborhood put it there and won't let them rip the damn things out.  We saw where Nurse Mommy cut them back last year.  They grew back with even MORE thorns.  It's like they increase their defenses every time they're cut, but the only thing we can do to combat them is to keep cutting them.

We move into this house next month and I'm a little concerned that these plants might try to grow under the house, into the bedroom, and try to kill us in our sleep.  Anyone know where I can get a good flamethrower?

Indecisive Bastard is indecisive

With school and work and holidays and blah blah blah, I haven't had much time for blogging.  However, I had to pop in to share this conversation.  Background info: My husband tries his damnedest to never decide anything.  Ever.  Also?  Never consult me for snappy comebacks.  This is a one-time deal here.

Me: What do you want for dinner?

Dan: I dunno.

Me: Well, we have ground beef thawed.  I also bought taco seasoning and spaghetti sauce.  Which would you rather have?

Dan: Meh.  Whatever.

Me: Alrighty.  I'll be in the living room whenever you make a decision.

Dan (as I'm walking out of the room): Whatever!

Me (walking back in the room): You never make a decision.  Do you even know how decision-making works??

Dan (grinning): No, not really! Why don't you explain it to me in 3 words or less.

Me (pondering for a few seconds): ...Choose... an... option.

Dan (boggling): Oh my god.  You actually did it.

Me: That's right!  I win!

Dan: What the fuck?!  GTFO!!

Me (walking out of the room): I WIN, BITCHES!!!

That's right.  I'm a winner!

My solid relationship

This conversation just happened:

Me: Where are you going?

Bastard: None of your business.

Me: Where are you going?

Bastard: Strip club.

Me: Uh huh. Where ya going?

Bastard: I just told you. Strip club.

Me: At quarter to 9 on a Tuesday.  By yourself.

Bastard: Yup. (starts digging quarters out of change dish)

Me: Ummm, I don't think that you're allowed to put coins in a stripper's g-string.

Bastard: That's not where I'm gonna put 'em! (eyebrow wiggle)

Me: Wrong kind of slot, sweetie!  Seriously.  Where are you going?

Bastard: I don't want to have to repeat myself.

Me: Good!  Maybe this time you'll actually tell me where you're going.

Bastard: (heads for door)

Me: You're going on a soda run, aren't you?
 
Bastard: Nope.

Me: How long are you going to be gone?

Bastard: A couple hours.

Me: Alrighty.  See you in a few minutes.  Have fun on your soda run!

He was back a few minutes later carrying a soda.  We know each other so well!

Happy birthday, you Scotch-Irish Bastard!

Thursday was The Bastard's birthday, so yesterday I threw him a little get-together.  It was just us, a few friends, some cake, and a whole lot of balloons.

The decorators may have been 12.  And by decorators, I mean me & my friend JB.

I also found this kickass Betty Crocker bar mix that was brownies and chocolate chip cookies mixed together. So fuck yeah, I bought it!  I bought 2 boxes!  And this was the result:

OMNOMNOM

I might have made a joke about calling the fire marshal at this point!

The Bastard gets his motorcycle back... then goes to jail

So after sitting in the shop for almost 2 months, The Bastard finally got his bike back.  Of course, the first thing he did was go for a ride.  And when he goes for a ride, he usually ends up somewhere in Bumblefuck.

::snicker:: That sign says "Blowing Rock"

Now, I always worry about him getting a speeding ticket or get into an accident, but I never expected him to get arrested.

Apparently he was fueling up at a gas station where a Bumblefuck town cop was sitting out front.  Said cop decided to run The Bastard's plates.  Why?  No idea.  Apparently his plate came up with no valid license attached to it, probably because he thought he still had another month on it, but it had actually expired 2 weeks prior.  Oblivious to the activity in the police car he pulled out of the gas station, immediately after which the cop pulled out behind him and flipped on the lights.  The cop checked his license and registration, then almost immediately put him in handcuffs.  Instead of having the bike towed or asking if someone could pick it up, the cop left it on the side of the road!

He apparently tried to call me, but it was the one time I didn't have my phone on me (it had died and was charging).  When he got home, he was pissed off and flailing a bit.  I'd left him in jail!  To hear him tell it, you'd think he'd spent the day in a supermax facility with hardened criminals.

Don't drop the soap...

Here's what really happened.

At the station, he sat there for about a half hour before another cop apologized and said that with his clean record and the fact that he'd never been pulled over for this offense before, he shouldn't have been brought in.  They gave him a ticket for the expired license and told him he could GTFO.  That's when he called me, I didn't answer, and then he called one of his riding buddies.  So really, his afternoon looked more like this:

Seriously.  He looks badass in that jacket.

It actually turned out that it was a good thing that I didn't go get him - his buddy was able to ride the bike home, which I wouldn't have been able to do.  Eventually he calmed down and let me know what really happened.  So don't worry, he's not too traumatized from his ordeal!  (I know you were all worried)

Why I don't take The Bastard grocery shopping

Recently, I may have temporarily lost my mind.  It all started with a little app called Our Groceries.  It's a great app - you can set up a list, then sync it with your phone and the phones of anyone else you want to be able to access your list.  I instantly fell in love with it because I'm always trying to get The Bastard to tell me what he wanted me to pick up from the grocery store.  Usually his answer was "food".  Bastard.  I figured that with this app, he could just add whatever he wanted to the list whenever he thought of it.

Of course, this would require him actually bothering to download the app, even though I sent the link to him twice.  One day, completely fed up with his lack of participation in the grocery list, I dragged him shopping.

Now, here's how my shopping usually goes, and it usually takes all of 20 minutes to get in and out:

I go in, I get what I need, I get out.  I don't know what I was expecting with The Bastard, but it went more like this:

Forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes.  In a freakin' Aldi!  That store has, like, 4 aisles!

If he was trying to make a point then he wins, because never again!

Recipe (sort of): Mandarin Chicken - needs improvement!

It was my turn to cook last night. I had fully intended on finding something new and creative to make on my lunch break yesterday, but with last week's "snowpocalypse" I'm completely behind on work stuff and didn't get much of a break at all. Therefore, when I got home at 6:15, I had a bunch of thawed chicken but no plan.

Desperately tearing apart my fridge and pantry, I found the beginnings of a Chinese-style orange chicken dish, so I punched a few ingredients into Allrecipes.com and found a Mandarin beef stir-fry recipe.  Bingo!  Just needed a little bit of improvising, right?  I'll tell you what I did, then what went wrong.  However, I think I'm actually on the right track with this one for once!

Ingredients:
2-3 chicken boneless skinless breasts, cut into 1-inch cubes (it was actually a handful of chicken strips, but that's about what it comes out to in breasts)
1/2 cup soy sauce
2 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp garlic powder
1 can of mandarin oranges (10oz, I think?)
1/2 c sugar
1 sweet onion, sliced
1 yellow pepper, sliced
2 c broccoli, steamed
1 c rice, steamed
Olive oil

Combine soy sauce, Worcestershire sauce, garlic powder, and juice from mandarin oranges.  Place chicken in a bowl and pour just enough of the mixture over it to cover the chicken.  Marinate in the fridge for about 15 minutes.  (Don't put the oranges in the marinade - trust me on this.  Just set them aside.)  Set the rest of the sauce aside.

Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat and sautee onion and pepper until onions begin to caramelize and peppers are tender.  Drain chicken and add to skillet.  Cook until done.

(Here's where it went wrong)  Add sugar to remaining sauce, then pour the sauce and mandarin oranges into the skillet and bring to a boil.  Heat for about 2 minutes or until sauce thickens.  Pour over rice and broccoli and serve.

So what went wrong?  When I read the original recipe that I based this off of, I could have sworn I had corn starch.  However, I got to the part that said, "Combine the cornstarch and reserved marinade until smooth," searched for the cornstarch, and panicked.  I was out and that must be what thickens the sauce!  I tried to think of what thickens sauces, but what the hell do I know about cooking?  And I'll be damned if I ask The Bastard since I was so fucking confident walking into the kitchen that I didn't need help with this meal.  I mean, my pride was on the line here, people!  (Speaking of which, I rest my case about the Taurus thing.)


I finally settled on sugar because I knew that worked; I just didn't know what quantity.  I started with 1/4 c, then bumped it up another 1/4 when that didn't work.  It thickened just slightly, but not nearly to the extent I was going for.  Finally after about 10 minutes of simmering, I said, "Fuck it," turned off the burner, and started scooping the meat, onions, and peppers into the bowl with the rice and broccoli.  I slowly poured the sauce into the bowl so I wouldn't end up with rice soup.  After staring at it for a few seconds, trying to work up my courage, I tasted it.


Hoars, it was actually good!  Slightly sweet, slightly tangy - I actually improvised something that tasted good, and I didn't even set the kitchen on fire!  This is a major kitchen breakthrough for me.  There's just one thing left to sort out:  fucking sauces!  How do they work???  I don't want to ditch the sugar, so would I need to add the whole 2 tbsp of cornstarch?  Or am I off base about that being the thickening agent?  If anyone wants to help me out on this, hit me up in the comments.

Why The Bastard should probably stop playing online multi-player games

So The Bastard is only working part-time right now, so between looking for a 2nd job and his insomnia, he's got a lot of free time on his hands.  To fill this time, when he's not dismantling and reassembling the computers, he plays online multi-player games.  This would not be a problem, except that The Bastard seems to have a certain magnetism for crazy, especially when it comes to the female variety.

At first, I thought it was just "IRL", as the kids say.  For example, when we were in high school, he dated a girl who was so possessive, I once offered to get him a crowbar for Christmas so that he might have a chance to loosen her vice-grip on him.  However, as he discovered the world of online gaming, it appears that it's not just his charming good looks that attracts female bizarreness.

On one text-based game, he had one woman cyber-stalking him and posting all kinds of crazy weirdness in an attempt to sabotage his in-game reputation and relationships.  This went on for months until he finally left the game altogether, although for unrelated reasons.  The only provocation that we could figure is that he was also a moderator for the forums and once had to get onto her for breaking the rules.

There have also been other misunderstandings where "being a nice guy" has been interpreted as "wanting to be in an actual relationship" and the other (read: crazy) party has gotten butthurt in the end.  However, the most recent tops the cake.  Lately, The Bastard has been playing a World of Warcraft style game: fantasy role-playing, real-time play with quests and guilds, as well as the ability to have voice chat with other players.  This game has in-game relationships that give you certain "buffs", depending on what type of relationship you're in and the stats of the other player.  I think.  I haven't actually played it, so I think I've got that right.

Anyway, he "got married" in the game to one of the other guild members.  He considered her a friend and, as he's married and she was in a committed relationship, The Bastard assumed that there was an understanding that this "relationship" was solely for their mutual benefit in the game.  However, he got online the other day and found that she had "unfriended" him, left his guild, blocked him on chat, and sent him a ranting PM, basically saying that he hasn't been spending enough time with her, and that she doesn't deserve to be treated this way.

She was pissed that her fake husband wasn't spending enough fake quality time with her because he was too busy going on fake missions with fake elves, fake mages, and other such fake characters.

I asked him if there was any way that anything he's said could be construed as wanting more, and he said they'd make jokes about spousal abuse when one of them beat the other in a sparring match or whatever in the game, but couldn't think of anything other than that.  I asked him what he was going to do about it, and he said that he was just going to keep his mouth shut and pretend that nothing happened.

He's apparently learned nothing from real life.