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Sunday Twilight

Funny, Links, Ramblings, Work 1 Response »

Nov 232008

Okay, so this doesn’t have anything to do with anything, but for those who have read Twilight/seen the movie, you absolutely must read this column by a friend of mine, Eric Snider. You can find it here.

And in case anyone thinks it might be a good idea to see Twilight, let me correct that erroneous line of thinking right now. This movie was one of the more purile, atrocious, hideous translations of a novel to celluloid in the history of film. It’s so bad, it would be added to my list of movies for bad movie night if it weren’t so painfully dull. If it had been any worse, it would have been bad enough to be funny. Instead, it’s just bad.

Blech.

(There is a whole story behind why I went to the movie in the first place, but that’s another blog post.)

_____

It’s late on Sunday night, and I’m staring yet another week in the face. I’ve been working a regular job nearly every day for the last year and a half…the longest I’ve ever held a full-time job in my life. (Not that I’ve ever gotten fired…just that I was never in a show that ran that long, or never worked anywhere full-time.) I’ve settled into what I call “apathetic Zen” when it comes to my work life…it’s not particularly fulfilling, exciting, or enjoyable. But, it’s not particularly annoying, frustrating, or maddening. I just can’t seem to get up enough energy to care about it one way or the other.

The only time I really dislike work is on Sunday evenings right before I go to bed, because I know that when I wake up in the morning, I have to jump back into the grind of things. Walk the dog, go to work, walk the dog, do homework, walk the dog, go to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Ever since I started working a full-time job, the weekends have become my absolute favorite time. Nothing special ever happens on my weekends, and that’s really the way I like it. I don’t set an alarm, I don’t have a schedule, I am able to get my house back into some semblance of order (I actually steam-cleaned my carpets today!) I take two naps a day on Saturday and another two on Sunday. I get to play with my dog. I eat out. I watch TV and play video games.

It’s amazing, the deeper I get into corporate life, how much I have grown to cherish these two days at the end of the week. And time away from work, in general. I recently interviewed for a job with Amazon.com. After going through six hours (SIX HOURS!) of interviews, they happened to mention that the job was an hourly position, not a salary position. That meant less vacation, less substantial benefits, etc. The recruiter told me that the money was the same, but it was only a couple of weeks of vacation difference between the two jobs.

It was at that moment that I realized: I would actually rather have more vacation, more time off, than I would more money. I make enough money for my needs, and most of my wants. In the last 12 months, I purchased a 42″ TV, a Tivo, a digital point and shoot camera, a digital SLR camera, a computer, a surround sound system, an iPhone, a Zune, an Xbox, a Playstation, a Wii and Wii fit, a Chaise Lounge, a Sofa, a TV stand, a reciprocating saw, a steam cleaner (thus the carpet work mentioned above), a new wardrobe, and several pairs of shoes. I don’t need more money. I need counseling to cure my shopping and technology addictions, but that’s another blog post.

There are so many things I still want to do. I want to learn to play all the instruments. I want to write my novel. I want to cook and bake. I want to watch all the movies in my Netflix queue, and read all the books in my Goodreads list. I want to take up hiking and improve my abilities with my camera. I want to start traveling and seeing the parts of the country and the world that I haven’t visited.

I’m young, still. It’s always easy to think, “eh, I’ve still got time.” But when you spend all of your time working, you don’t really. I love the steady paycheck. I LOVE the toys that I can buy with said paycheck. I love living in a comfortable, spacious apartment on the shore of a beautiful lake. On Sunday nights, though, I sometimes wish that I could actually have the time to enjoy it all.

But, knowing me, I’d probably get so bored with my life without work that I’d end up hating it. Darn paradoxes.

One of the Beautiful People

Ramblings 4 Responses »

Nov 232008

Let’s face it. I’m not the best-looking person you’ll ever come across. In fact, I’m rather funny-looking. This fact has always bothered me. A lot.

For some reason, I’ve spent my whole life wishing I looked like other people. I hated my hair. I hated how pale I was. I hated my teeth. I hated losing my hair. I hated starting to get fat. I hated my posture. I hated my eyelids, for crying in the sink. (I have hooded eyelids…it makes me look perpetually sleepy). I hated the fact that I had to wear glasses, and if I didn’t wear glasses, my transparent eyelashes and pale skin made me look like a drowsy alien.

I’ve never been “hot” or “gorgeous” or even “handsome.” I’ve always had to win people over with my “personality.” It’s exhausting.

When I was young, I remember crying to my mom because I hated having red hair. (A fact, I always like to remind her, is entirely her fault.) I remembered reading in a Cosmo or some other trashy magazine while waiting for a haircut when I was in Jr. High that men preferred in order:

1. Blondes
2. Brunettes
3. Redheads.

Women preferred:

1. Brunettes
2. Blondes.

0% of women polled said that they preferred redheads. That scarred me at an early age.

I was always a scrawny, sickly kid with a big head. Some thug whose name I don’t remember used to make fun of me all the time because of the clothes I wore in elementary school. Calvin Brewer used to call me Bighead every day in 7th grade typing class. “Dang, Bighead. Why your head so big?” he used to crow. He’s probably in jail now…or a baby daddy several times over.

When I was still in elementary school, I had a baby tooth fall out, then in it’s place, a 2nd baby tooth come in. Then, my permanent tooth came in on top of it at an angle, leaving an ugly gap in my front teeth. We couldn’t afford braces when I was a kid, and when we got to the point that we could afford braces, I discovered that my jaw was shorter on one side of my mouth than the other, and the only way to get braces would be to have my jaw cracked and extended on one side to correct my bite. Thanks, but no.

I went to college, where I was surrounded by Barbie and Ken everywhere I turned. Not only were the students at BYU unnaturally beautiful as a whole, but I was in a program that put just as much emphasis on the way you looked as it did your talent. I had the soul and, I thought, voice of a dramatic lead actor, but the physical appearance of the goofy sidekick. I never got the chance to play the roles I wanted to because I didn’t look the part, and was stuck playing the types of roles I wasn’t any good at…I’m not a particularly good comedian.

I made the horrendous mistake of pursuing a career that required me to parade myself around to be gawked at, poked at, and criticized just to get a part. I had started losing my hair at 19 (I discovered my balding for the first time in the MTC). By the time I graduated from college, I already had a receding hairline and a bald spot. My first performing gig out of college required me to dye my hair black so I could look “Asian” and get myself airbrush-tanned twice a week. My next job told me that my hair looked terrible and forced me to spend $300 to get the damage fixed from the previous gig. I never had success with film and TV work, because I don’t photograph well and, again, not pretty enough for anything but the comic relief. I was told that I was too effeminate, too slouchy, too skinny, not skinny enough, too old, too young, too goofy, too serious. I was everything but what they were looking for.

For a while, I started working out 10-12 hours a week so I could bulk up and get ripped. I tried dying my hair different colors. (An interesting note about real redheads…we have a very difficult time dying out hair…nothing really works or holds.) I went through three rounds of largely ineffective hair transplant surgery so I could alleviate the baldness and maybe find more work.

To this day, I’m still disgustingly insecure about my physical appearance. There was a show called “The Swan” on TV a few years ago where ugly women were holed up in a house for several months while they went through an intensive course of plastic surgery, dental work, and exercise, only to emerge as a fake-looking beautiful person. I wanted to be on that show SO badly.

I am fascinated by people that I find attractive. Both men and women. I ache with jealousy when I see someone who looks like I have always wanted to. I still long to be considered “hot” or to have people want to be around me because I’m good looking. I want the opportunities that come with being a beautiful person. I don’t want to have to work so hard to get ahead in life, because I don’t fit the stereotype of the young, dashing go-getter.

In my life, I’ve had a few friends who are exceptionally attractive. I was always in awe of how the world seemed to hand them whatever it was that they wanted without them having to work for it. I’m sure it wasn’t a straightforward as all that, but in some cases, it really was. There was one guy in my program at BYU who was handed EVERYTHING without having to work for it, because of his physical appearance. He was given grades in classes he didn’t deserve. He passes classes he never attended. He got roles and opportunities that he squandered because he knew his appearance would always create another opportunity for him. I mean…look at Tom Cruise. Crazy as a crap-house rat and he still makes millions of dollars in every movie he films (despite the fact that he’s not very good.)

I’m 30 years old, and I’m still insecure about the way I look. How sad is that. It doesn’t matter how accomplished I am, how talented I am, how smart I am. It doesn’t matter that I have a good heart, that I can be fun to be around. I doesn’t matter that I am, at heart, a good person. To me, all that matters is that I’m funny-looking. I hate that. I wish I was able to see the good in myself instead of being so focused on the shortcomings in my physical appearance.

But, at least it’s good I got out of acting. People in the technology industry are FAR less interested in personal appearance.

Why Yellow Dogs + Rainy Season = Bad

Luke The Dog, Pictures 1 Response »

Nov 212008

Chocolate Chip Off the Old Block

Ramblings, Recipe 2 Responses »

Nov 162008

A few months ago, I promised my younger sister that I would help her learn how to make an awesome chocolate chip cookie. I have spend nearly every Saturday and Sunday over the last two months making multiple batches of said baked goods, all in an effort to develop the best CCC I could. I used other people recipes, I adapted popular recipes, tried different flour, tried different fats, sugars, methods, temperatures, baking times.

Today, I FINALLY did it. I made the CCC’s I remember from my youth. Now all I need is that round, flat 70′s avocado Tupperware container with the yellow ridged lid to put said cookies in, and my trip down confectionary memory lane will be complete. (Including my preference for water instead of milk with my cookies, because I used to be allergic to milk and still don’t like it very much…except on cereal.) I made batches that were good, but ugly. I made one batch that I actually threw out entirely because they were so bad. I tried new tools, went through eight bags of chocolate chips, and made my co-workers simultaneously love and despise me.

These little cookies are perfect. They look identical to the ones in the picture to the left (I didn’t want to haul out my camera and retouch a photo, so I just stole a picture from the internet), they’re slightly crunchy/chewy on the outside and soft in the middle. They’ve got a very nice vanilla caramel flavor, and the chocolate has managed to stay somewhat soft, even after the cookies have cooled. The crust is the perfect shade of Golden Brown (or “Golden Brown and Delicious” as Alton Brown would say) with the little cracks and crevices that just scream “I’m a perfect Chocolate Chip Cookie!” Not to oversell them, though.

This little experiment has been a learning experience, and is fairly typical of the way I approach things I want to master. I read like crazy, learn the theory, and then experiment until I get it right. Had I come to the conclusion that a degree in Music Dance Theatre is even more worthless than the paper it is printed on far sooner in my life, I may have been able to pursue a path in science. I think I would have been good at it. I feel like I have a solid enough grounding on the science of cookie making that I could start inventing my own cookie recipes. I won’t, but I could.

And now? Now I’m not going to tell you.

I know, I’m a bastage.

No, I will tell you all…eventually. But there’s two reasons why I can’t yet. First, I need to have someone at a higher elevation try out the cookie recipe to make sure that it works at, say, 4500 feet above sea level. I’d like to make sure it really is a fail-proof recipe, but as I’m only a couple hundred feet above sea level, I need to make sure the recipe is too finely tuned to my elevation. (It makes a huge difference, you know). Secondly, it’s late, I just had a full-blown sugar crash, and I’m going to go to bed because I need to go to work tomorrow and take my last batch of chocolate chip cookies to work to be disseminated amongst my colleagues. And I will say this: I don’t want to eat another Chocolate Chip Cookie for a long, long time.

Until then, just know this: My cookie recipe is better than yours. So there. Pbbbbth.

Facebook? Meh.

Ramblings 3 Responses »

Nov 112008

I used to really like Facebook. Now? Not so much.

Facebook used to be the place where I could keep track of the people I wanted to keep track of–you know, my friends. (All four of them). Instead, it’s become a place where every person who has ever met me, for even 30 seconds, wants to “friend” me, and then I get to read their inane status updates and wall-to-wall posts with people I don’t know or care about.

Right now, on my Facebook friends list, I have 106 people listed. I haven’t had 106 actual friends my entire life put together. (My list was larger, but I recently un-friended a bunch of people who I didn’t even know). Of those 106, a bunch of them I haven’t spoken to in 12 years. Some of them I don’t have any desire to talk to ever again. Some of those are people I’ve maybe never carried on a real conversation with. A lot of them I probably wouldn’t recognize if I passed them in the street.

So why did I friend them in the first place? They nearly all found me, and I felt guilty clicking on that “ignore” button. So now I get invited to groups for political causes that I vehemently disagree with. I get invited to add dozens of stupid applications. I get super poked (sounds like a porno title…) on a regular basis. I never use it to send messages to friends, nor do they ever use it to communicate with me. It’s friendship lite. I get to see the pictures and watch the interactions with people I barely know, all without the pesky human interaction.

The real problem? My life is going down a very different path than most people’s lives and my values, outlook, and personality are changing. (Queue Dreamgirls soundtrack). What my Facebook friends value and what I value are becoming increasingly disparate. I have less and less desire to keep up with what’s going on in many of their lives…and to be quite honest, I didn’t really care all that much about what was going in some of their lives to begin with. And moreover, I don’t really want a lot of them tracking my life. I don’t need the people who barely knew my name in high school to have a front-row seat to my life when I worked so hard to repress the misery that was my high school life. I don’t need the people that I worked with for three months at a job I hated to see the pictures of my dog. What I need are real friends in real life who actually know me.

So I think I’m going on a Facebook hiatus. Besides, it’s all about Twitter anyway.

Recipe: Cheater’s BBQ Pulled Pork

Recipe No Responses »

Nov 092008

I love good BBQ, but one of the downsides of living in an apartment in the middle of a temperate rain forest is that I don’t have the ability to spend 10-12 hours outside slow-smoking pork. And, unfortunately, you can’t get much further away than the epicenter of good BBQ than the pacific Northwest, so the area is lacking decent BBQ joints.

Thus, enter the Cheater’s BBQ Pulled Pork. It’s got that nice, smokey flavor, and is pull-apart tender, but it’s made in the crock pot. I was skeptical of this recipe, but it’s pretty darn good. It’s not the same as real BBQ pulled pork, but it’s pretty darn close…at least, it’s as close as you’re going to get without an oil drum, a stack of hickory firewood, and a WHOLE lot of time.

I found this recipe on the Splendid Table web site, and altered it a little to make it better! (I can never just make the recipe as is). The measurements of the spices are approximate, this is really forgiving, so you don’t have to measure the amounts. Just make sure that the Paprika, Brown Sugar, and Salt are the largest amounts

6-7 lbs of Pork Shoulder Roast
1/4 C Paprika
1/4 C Brown Sugar
2 T Salt
1 T Dry Ground Mustard Seed
1 T Onion Powder
1 T Garlic Powder
1 t Freshly Ground Black Pepper
1/2 C Liquid Smoke

Cut the pork shoulder in the 2-3 inch chunks. (They don’t have to be perfect. This will be pulled pork, after all). In a large mixing bowl, combine the dry spices. Coat each chunk of the pork on all sides with the dry mixture and massage it into the meat. (Dry Rub). Place all the meat into the crock pot. Pour the liquid smoke into the crock pot and place on the lid. Cook on low for 10-12 hours.

After 10 hours or so, the pork should have given up a lot of its juices. You can tell if the pork is ready to eat by sticking a fork into one of the chunks, and twisting it slightly. If the pork falls apart, it’s done. Remove the meat from the juices using thongs or a slotted spoon. (Trying to use a fork will result in a massive comedy of errors…).

Using two forks, shred the pork. You can then use it however you’d like. Toss it with BBQ sauce of your choosing and serve on hamburger buns with pickles and corn chip. Heat some black-eyed peas with some butter and garlic, toss in some of the BBQ pork, and serve over a bed of lettuce with scallions. Heat the pork in a skillet with some canned green chilies, cumin, chili powder, and a couple of splashes of your favorite cola, and you have pork barbacoa which you can use in tacos, burritos, or salads with pinto beans or black beans. You can even eat is straight up with no sauce. It’s pretty darn good.

This makes a TON of usable meat, so it’s great to make one night, then use the leftovers for another night. I made this last night for myself, and I still have a gallon-sized zip-top bag full of meat to last me the remainder of the week.

Enjoy!

Have you, or have you not, heard about the bird?

Ramblings 5 Responses »

Nov 082008

‘cuz everybody knows that the bird is the word.

(Let’s see how many people who read my blog actually get that reference. It’ll be an interested sociological experiment. Do the people who find my blog interesting enough to read enjoy the same things I do. Maybe someone should write an academic paper about that. You could call it something like “Personal Preference and Attraction Symbioses in Long-Distance Journaling” or something like that. :)

So, I’ve been stewing over several things I’d really like to put in my blog, but after lots of thought, I’ve decided that I am not going to. No good will come of it. (How’s that for a teaser?) Instead, I’m going to spew forth some of my patented stream-of-consciousness rambling. Because it’s late, I’m groggy, and I can. That’s why.

Not so much has been going on since my last post. My toe is starting to heal, but it’s taking longer than I would like.

I went out to get a pizza at Papa Murphys tonight, and for some reason, thought it would be a good idea to get the family pizza night meal. A large 1-topping pizza, cheesy bread, cinnamon sticks, and a 2-liter bottle of soda. All for a single person. With no friends. Seriously? What was I smoking. Especially since I just got done grocery shopping for all this healthy food to try and loose some weight before the holidays so I can gorge myself.

I finally finished my finance class, and I squeaked by with an A – keeping my at a perfect 4.0 GPA. Only four more classes left to go, and I’ll be DONE with my MBA. Huzzah.

I’ve recently started outlining my novel. I’ve come up with a rough story idea that I really like. (It’s a little derivative, but what isn’t these days). But I think the story fits the voice in which I enjoy writing. I’m hacking away at the character bios right now, and then I’m going to outline the story in greater specifics. I’m having fun doing this. Let’s see how long it lasts until I get bored with this new hobby of the minute. I’m still determined that I’m going to participate in NaNoWriMo next November though.

My apartment is disgusting. I’m not sure when the transition took place, but sometime between the time I was 26 and the time I was 28, I went from being a total neat-freak to a slob. I hate working all day, then coming home and spending an hour cleaning, not to mention I rarely have time to clean during the week due to homework. So, Saturday is a special day…it’s the day I make my habitat livable again. I put the dog out on the patio and vacuum up at least two full canisters of dog hair. Every week. I steam clean the carpets and/or furniture if needed. I do the dishes and the laundry. If I’m really in the zone, I will clean one of the two bathrooms. And, I developed this unfortunate habit from my mother–I am completely incapable of having an empty horizontal surface anywhere in my house. I usually spend at least an hour every weekend cleaning off horizontal surfaces…newspapers, magazine, keys, recipes, articles for school, doggie clean-up bags (the band my apartment uses is called “Poopy Pouches.” Seriously.), socks, band-aid wrappers, lids from Jello and Pudding cups, forks (I always have forks everywhere in my apartment). It’s pretty pathetic.

Anyone interested in hiring me a maid? ‘Cause that would be awesome.

Anyway, Other than that, it’s been a fairly lackluster week. Lots of the same old, same old.

Oh, and tomorrow, I “get” to pay bills. Yay! *sob*

The Toes of Depression

Health, Pictures, Ramblings, School 2 Responses »

Nov 042008

Warning! There is a gross picture below. If blood freaks you out, scroll down VERY slowly. It’ll be at the very end of the post.

_____

When I was in school, as part of my four and a half year program to learn how to be a bitter, poor gypsy when I grew up, I studied dance. It was not uncommon for me to spend the majority of my day in Adidas workout pants and a sweaty t-shirt. I didn’t feel particularly self-conscious about it, because everyone else I knew in school wore the same thing. In fact, by the time I graduated from college, my wardrobe was so pathetic, I had to spend a great majority of may paycheck for the first paying job I had after I graduated buying new clothes.

But this isn’t about my wardrobe conundrums, which continue to this day. (Can I just say how depressing it is to have to go out to buy new clothes because you’re too FAT to fit into your old ones? Not cool. And it’s just hard to be cute and fat at the same time.) Anyhow, one of the side effects of my dancing, aside from the aforementioned wardrobe malfunctions, was that my feet were crammed into dance shoes for several hours a day. Jazz sneakers, bear claws, tap shoes, jazz flats, and worst of all, ballet slippers. These shoes were always too tight. And I got in-grown toenails. LOTs of them.

I got so many in-grown toenails, my podiatrist started recognizing my phone number from his caller ID.

For those who don’t know, an in-grown toenail is when the edge of the nail begins to grow into the side of the nail bed, as is diagrammed below.

This hadn’t happened to me since I stopped dancing several years ago. But, back in March, I noticed that I was starting to get an in-grown toe-nail again. So, I found a new podiatrist here in Redmond, and went to him. He did a quick trimming (which was much cheaper than the full-blown outpatient procedure) and told me that I would need to come back in three months or so, because the symptoms would return. This worked out well for me because I (ludicrously) thought that I would finally be hired on as a full-time Microsoft employee and I would have insurance that could over the procedure.

Well, June came around, and I still wasn’t a Microsoft FTE (full-time employee) and I still didn’t have insurance. Plus, my ingrown nail hadn’t come back. Well, it’s now November (I’m still not an FTE) and now I actually have insurance for the first time since I left my parent’s plan. And my ingrown nail had come back. In fact, it got infected! (There are few things quite as gross as squeezing your big toe and having a fluid come out the color and consistency of melted butter.) So it was time.

So today, I left work early to have my in-grown nail cut out. The doctor numbs your toe, which is, by far, the most painful part of the process. Then, he cuts a straight line down your nail about a 1/4″ in from the edge…all the way down to the root of the nail, and pulls it out. (See picture at the bottom of the post). Then he uses a chemical to deaden the root in that area so the nail will never grow back on that side.

This is the fourth time I’ve had this particular procedure done–once on each side of each of my big toes. Since the nails never grow back, my big toenails are shaped like large popsicle sticks…rounded on the top, and then straight down on either side. So, now my toe is wrapped in gauze, and I’ve got to let it heal for a few days. It’s really a shame. I was going to start my new marathon training program today. (Yeah, right.)

Anyway…I don’t know if my insurance is actually going to cover this or not, so that will be interesting. We shall see.

And, as promised, here’s the gross picture. This isn’t my toe, as I didn’t have the foresight to bring my camera to my operation (silly me). But it looked pretty much exactly like this.

Gross, huh?

NaNoWriMo

Ramblings No Responses »

Nov 032008

November, for those of you who didn’t know is National Novel Writing Month. It’s a month dedicated to just getting the novel in your head down on paper, or more appropriate considering the 90+ words a minute I type, down in the word processor.

This idea intrigues me, for a number of reasons.

1. I always thought I could be a good writer. I never put the time and effort into doing it enough to be good at it, but I think the potential is there.

2. I’ve always wanted to write a screenplay, musical, book, something.

3. I’m atrocious at picking up a habit, hobby, diet, self-improvement project, etc., focusing on it hardcore for about three days, and then leaving the unfinished remnant my project in a figurative pile in the closet of my life. I really want to do something like this: something that forces me to create every day for a month…even though I don’t want to.

4. I hate doing things that I’m bad at. I have this mistaken idea in my head that if I can’t do something perfectly right from the beginning, then I shouldn’t even bother trying. I don’t allow myself to experience the normal learning curve, so I’ve only ever done the things I know I would be good at right from the beginning.

5. The editorial voice in my head is really loud and getting louder all the time. I’m always so worried about how what I’m going to say/write/do will come across to my potential audience that I’ve let it stifle all of my creativity. For so long in my life, every action I’ve ever taken, I’ve done because I’ve wanted people to like me for it. Take my songwriting, for instance. Back when I was still writing songs, I only ever wrote the songs that I thought my audience would want to hear. As a result, I wrote generic, bland tripe isn’t me. The only songs I’ve ever written that I really like are the songs that nobody has ever heard, because they’re so personal that I couldn’t bear to send them out on their way and be told that they’re really not very good. I need something in my life that allows me to fail, and still be okay with it.

This year, I simply don’t have the time do to NaNoWriMo. Between work and school, I barely have time to keep my apartment from being condemned due to inordinate filth. But this idea has stuck in my head. Next year, for NaNoWriMo, I’m going to participate. I’m going to try and write more often, both in my blog, and on some essays, short stories, or even a novel in the meantime. But, by next November, I’ll have my MBA, I’ll hopefully have my personal life in some semblance of order, and I will have prepared myself to do this.

I know it’s a year away, but I’m excited. Anyone else want to join me next year?

Goodreads

Ramblings 1 Response »

Nov 022008

Hey friends,

My group of friends tend to be an intelligent, rather erudite bunch, which means you all tend to do quite a bit of reading. As I get close to finishing up my schooling, I want to get back to reading for fun again. To that end, I have joined the fantastic website Goodreads.com. For those of you who don’t know, Goodreads is a Facebook-like social network for readers. You keep a list of books you’ve read, what you’ve rated them, and your reviews of the books, which can be shared with your friends on the site.

I have joined Goodreads.com, and now I need some friends as well. So if you’re already on Goodreads, add me as a friend. If you’re not, and you read regularly, join up, and add me as a friend. Just search for DrChumley (at sign) g mail dot com.

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Sunday Twilight

One of the Beautiful People

Why Yellow Dogs + Rainy Season = Bad

Chocolate Chip Off the Old Block

Facebook? Meh.

Recipe: Cheater’s BBQ Pulled Pork

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