Alan Cumming. You probably don't know that you know him, but you do.

My posts about celebrities have been pretty few and far between. I've lamented over the career of Christian Slater, confided in you about my infatuation with David Bowie, and admitted my fascination with all that is Helena Bonham Carter. Today I'm going to share with you my latest celebrity obsession, Alan Cumming.

(Source)

You're probably thinking this Scot looks familiar, but no, he's not the guy who played PeeWee Herman, but I imagine if PeeWee and Joey (I think the grey-haired LeBlanc has infested my brain) were to ever have a love child, Alan Cumming would be it.

(Source)

I first took note of Alan in X2. He played Nightcrawler (like you didn't already know that), one of the most vulnerable and touching X-Men characters to appear in the X-Men trilogy (in my opinion). He's also had quite a number of one-time appearances on some pretty popular TV sitcoms like 3rd Rock from the Sun (love!), Frasier, and Robot Chicken (as well as some other shows that I've never watched before).

Alan lent his voice to God, the Devil and Bob as The Devil and will even be voicing Gutsy Smurf in the upcoming movie, The Smurfs (and I've already expressed to you how I feel about that). Another TV role that really caught my attention was Alan's portrayal as Glitch in the Tin Man (what do you mean you haven't seen it? Quick! Go put it on the top of your Netflix Instant Queue!), which I believe aired on the Sci-Fi Channel (before it "reworked" its imagine and became the more female-friendly Sy-Fy Channel. And before you jump on that "female-friendly" remark, they aired the movie Enchanted for crying out loud. Why? Why would they do something like that? The channel that brought us such greats as Dinoshark, Mega Piranha, and Ice Spiders chose to air a princess musical? But I digress, as is oft to happen here).

(Source)

Keeps your eyes open, and I'm sure you'll spot the unique look of Alan Cumming in other movies and TV series. I'm also pretty sure you can expect to see a great deal of him in the future. In fact, he'll be in the upcoming movie Burlesque with Cher and Christina Aquilera (although after reading about that film, I have very low expectations for it). And if you're interested in learning more about Alan Cumming, you can peruse his website or read his blog.

Do you have a favorite "odd-ball" actor or actress?

(Source)

Hope you all have a fabulous weekend. I have nothing planned, but of course, as history has shown us, that doesn't mean I won't have some wild tales to share with you on Monday.

Got Me Some Tickets to That There Gun Show

Since you've all Steve G.'s been dying to hear about the gun show I attended on Saturday, here ya go. (FYI- I didn't take any of these pictures. I had my camera with me but I was too afraid to take it out. Some pics were taken from the gun show's website. Others were swiped from Google images.)

Last Saturday I attended The Nation's Gun Show in Chantilly, VA with the G-Man. I knew that there wasn't even a tiny fraction of me that wanted to go to the gun show. I knew that it would be painful and torturous and would come quite close to being as horrific as that awful time I was dragged to InfoComm in Orlando last year. Boy was I ever wrong. The Nation's Gun Show was a hundred times worse than InfoComm where at least they had flashy lights to distract me, TVs to entertain me, and AV geeks to ogle after me. And there was free booze and food and an entirely free, catered party at the Hard Rock Cafe to get smashed at. And when I had had enough of the actual InfoComm event (and I was only there for an hour) I was able to sit by the pool for the rest of the week. Heck. I even got to go to Sea World. The Nation's Gun Show? Not so much fun.

The gun show was loaded.

First of all, I was told that we wouldn't be at the show for long, which in my mind, meant no more than an hour. In reality it meant that we were there for an hour and a half, made it through only half of the show, took a break for a late lunch, and then returned for another hour and a half for the rest of the show. To say that it was the worst experience of my life might be stretching it a bit, but not by much. For the ease of reading, I've broken down the highlights and lowlights of the gun show into some handy dandy lists.

 If only it were this empty when we were there. Whatever. It still would have sucked.

Things That Shocked Me About the Gun Show

1. It cost $12 per adult to get in (I did not pay for my ticket).
2. People were walking around with guns slung over their shoulders.
3. People were walking around with descriptions of said guns taped to their bodies in case anyone was interested in buying them.
4. There was a lot of Nazi paraphernalia. I mean, a lot.
5. I didn't get hit on at all. Not once. (This is a good thing. Usually at events where there are a lot of a particular kind of man in attendance all women get hit on).
6. There were very few women in attendance.
7. Most of the women in attendance were pregnant.
8. There was very little camo.
9. There were a lot of American Eagle polo shirts.

 Apparently there's a large market for Nazi souvenirs.

 

Things That I Hated About the Gun Show

1. My claustrophobia kicked into high gear.
2. As a result of my claustrophobia, my anxiety level was through the roof.
3. It was impossible to walk around with out bumping into at least three other people while doing so.
4. There were a lot of overweight men there.
5. There was a lot of body odor.
6. There was a lot of man cleavage.
7. There was a lot of butt cleavage.
8. I'm pretty sure there were Klan members in attendance.
9. I'm pretty sure everyone there were McCain and Palin supporters (well, maybe not Palin, she is a woman after all, and the only place a woman should be is in the kitchen).
10. I'm pretty sure there were many wife beaters in attendance.
11. We were told that New York was a communist state (actually, I wasn't told this, the G-Man was, as no one at the show spoke to or looked directly at me. Good times).

 This guy probably wasn't there, but if he had been, I'm sure he would have fit right in.

Things That Entertained Me About the Gun Show

1. People watching.
2. Identifying the serial killers.
3. Being ignored by every single vendor there.
4. Not having to feign interest in anything people were selling.

DUE TO PUBLIC SAFETY ISSUES AND INSURANCE REQUIREMENTS, THERE WILL BE NO LOADED GUNS, OR MAGAZINES, ALLOWED ON THE SHOW FLOOR. THIS APPLIES TO VENDORS AS WELL AS THE GENERAL PUBLIC. SORRY, BUT WITHOUT MEETING THE INSURANCE REQUIREMENTS THE SHOW CANNOT GO ON, AND AS MUCH AS WE MIGHT AGREE ( or disagree ) WITH YOUR OBJECTIONS, WE MUCH PREFER TO CONTINUE THE SHOW IN SPITE OF THIS SMALL INCONVENIENCE. THIS MATTER IS NOT OUR POLICY OR DECISION, BUT WE CANNOT AND WILL NOT CHANGE IT OR MAKE EXCEPTIONS.     

The gun show Word of Caution

  

The place was packed, folks. I mean, wall-to-wall rednecks/meat heads/douchebags. I spent most of the time trying to find quiet little corners of empty space among the vendors' booths to hide in. In fact, the entire time we were there, I touched a total of two things (three if you count madly clutching my purse. Four if you count madly gripping the back of the G-Man's shirt lest I be sucked into a sea of overweight, stinky, Republicans)- 1) a collection of wartime advertisements and 2) a beautiful dragonfly fabric some gun vendor was using as a table cloth.

The only thing I was interested in at the gun show. The vendor probably thought I was a weirdo.

It would probably come as no surprise to you all that I insisted we get out of there ASAP. If I never attend another gun show in my life, it will be too soon.

RST: Interview, butt crack accidents, Matt LeBlanc, bad drivers, hiking hell, and a note

             
In OBG-land today is Tuesday. And yesterday was Monday. And Monday didn't exist because I had no internet. But if you end up going to work on Saturday thinking it's Friday, don't blame me. You should all know better than to listen to me. And if you don't, well, you do now.

It's Tuesday, which means, time again for another Random Shit Tuesday!

Get ready to experience a whole bunch of randomness...

I had an interview today with a school system that doesn't have any job openings. On the one hand, I don't have to stress and worry for days after wards about whether or not I get the job, however, on the other hand, since I knew I wasn't competing for a position, I'm afraid I didn't give it my all. Eh. What are you gonna do?

And on a similar note, is "elementary" pronounced e-lə-ˈmen-tə-rē or e-lə-ˈmen-trē? Apparently the pronunciation of this word is a regional thing and if you're in an interview with someone from Virginia and you pronounce the word one way, it's a dead giveaway that you're from New York. In Virginia, they pronounce it the other way. Where are you from, and how do you pronounce it?

***

I've told you before about my blogger crush on DateMeDC. When we meet (because it WILL happen, dammit) I'm sure we'll instantly click, have a grand old time, and have tons of embarrassing stories to tell. That being said, I have an embarrassing story for you.

I'm a klutzy, clumsy person who seems to have the most bizarre accidents happen or illnesses strike. I have, on more than one occasion, been stung by wasps. Two of those times I was stung on the foot (one time I stepped on the darn thing and the other time I was stung while walking through a friend's front door unaware of the nest in their door jamb. No one else got stung, but I did). The third time I got stung by a wasp is a really enjoyable story.

My sisters and I, much to our utter dismay, went to daycare for a few years after school and over the summer. The daycare provider would often take us kids to her mother's house to swim in the pool. Eventually, the daycare provider ended up setting up an above ground pool in her front yard. Now, I don't remember which pool we had earlier returned from or which pool we were headed to, but I do remember that we had set our wet swimsuits out on the front deck to dry. And then we decided to hit the pool again.

Well, in my reluctantness eagerness to get ready (have I mentioned that I hated swimming and pretty much loathed pool time?) I had neglected to inspect my swimsuit for any creepy crawlies, buggy wuggies or other such flying beasts. I quickly, and painfully, learned my lesson when I immediately got stung IN THE BUTT by a wasp. I'm not gonna lie, it hurt like a mother fucker. Now, you might be thinking, "Whatever. So you got stung in the butt cheek by a wasp. Big deal." Oh no, folks, I got stung IN THE BUTT CRACK.

Who knew my first experience with "going in the out door" would be with this guy?

If you know anything about wasp stings, they often leave a stinger behind that must then be removed. This very generous wasp left behind a stinger. It needed to be removed. Apparently there is a baking soda paste that can be mixed together and applied to the sting to help the stinger removal process along. And of course, this is the tactic the daycare provider decided to employ, much to my utter humiliation. There I was, somewhere between the ages of 10-13, with a small audience, standing in the kitchen, in my bathing suit, butt cheeks spread, while the day care provider applied a paste to my butt crack with a spoon. I don't think I need to describe the complete and utter humiliation I experienced that day.

However, if I had known that the rest of my life would involve even more incidents of even greater humiliation, I might have just laughed along during the butt crack wasp experience.

***

Did you hear about Matt LeBlanc? Yeah, apparently he used to dye his hair dark while on Friends. Personally, I prefer the grey. What do you think?

(Source)

***

Sometimes I wonder, while I'm driving around and bitching about the stupid Virginia drivers, if they're muttering about those crazy drivers from New York.

***

If anyone ever asks you to go with them for a leisurely walk through the woods, be sure to get an exact description of the conditions of the location you'll be "walking". And if you find yourself innocently enjoying the walk along a paved path through the woods, well, don't be so stupid. That path will quickly change to a trail. And instead of walking, you'll quickly find yourself hiking. 

Furthermore, when you're hiking, you should always start at the bottom of the hill/mountain/death obstacle and hike upwards. This way, after you collapse at the top from utter exhaustion with festering blisters and sweat in parts of your body you didn't know could sweat, at least you know that the hard part is over. You can feel quite confident that the way back down will involve a walk/free fall down the hill/mountain/death obstacle that will be slightly less painful. And if you're lucky, as your bounding like a leaping antelope down the side of the mountain, you will trip on one of the many roots protruding from the ground and roll down the rest of the mountain and land in a crumpled heap at the bottom where your comrades can easily scoop you up and whisk you off to the hospital where they will force you to stay in bed and watch TV while pumping you full of liquids and floaty happy drugs.Ah. Good times.

Bob is surprised to find himself enjoying a leisurely stroll down the mountain and thinks, 

"Gee, I could go on like this forever." Little does Bob realize, the hike back is uphill. Stupid Bob.

You should not, however, under any circumstances, begin your hike by walking downhill. And if you happen to find yourself in this position, don't naively proclaim what a joyous walk this "hike" turned out to be while you wonder about all the woodland creatures you might encounter (like the ever elusive Fishing Mexican). And if you are gaily skipping along to the tune of your own humming and commenting on how nice the day is and how you really expected to be sweating more, SLAP YOURSELF. Seriously, because somewhere along the line you forgot that there will be a return trip, and while a 6-mile stroll down the side of a mountain seems quite enjoyable, by the time you start to loose steam and develop the first twinges of a blister and decide that you might be ready to head home, it will be too late to back out of the whole thing. You will have to make that return trip back up the mountain. And no amount of begging for someone to come back for you with the car will make the trip any easier. You've been warned.

***

Welcome new followers and readers. Glad you could join us. And for those of you who are recommending this blog to friends, thanks. I appreciate it, and don't be afraid to tell me you're doing so. I would love to thank you personally. And maybe discover some new blogs in the process.

(NOTE: For those of you newcomers or even some of you long-time readers who are out of the loop, in case you're wondering what [ex.pt.] means or why I often write out the number one instead of typing the numeral, well, it's because the key on my keyboard that types the number one and the exclamation point no longer works. And sometimes I get tired of copying and pasting those two characters. You can read more about it here.)

That seems like enough randomness for one day. Happy Tuesday[ex.pt.]

Previously on OBG... 1.7

(Ed. Note: This should have been posted yesterday and then followed up by Random Shit Tuesday, but since the internet was out all day yesterday, today will be a twofer. Or a BOGO. Whatever you want to call it, you can expect the RST post later on in the day.)

Although inspired in part by a true incident, 
the following story is fictional 
and does not depict any actual person or event.

When we last left OBG...

... she had rediscovered the joys of having access to an Xbox 360, survived abuse at the hands (stares) of Cub Scouts, had a brief yet monumental emotional breakdown which may or may not have been brought on by too many job conversations with the G-Man, and had an enjoyable evening bowling.

We now join OBG watching HGTV in the living room on a Friday night with the G-Man.

The G-Man: When's your birthday?
In-Head OBG: Say what now? Did he just ask me when my birthday is? Haven't we gone over this a million times before? I mean, we've known each other for over 9 years now, you would think he would know. I bet I could call up Unfortunate One right now, who I've known just as long, and he'd know when my birthday is. In fact, I bet even Thing Two could at least get the correct month, and I've only really known him for a little over a year. Oh. Maybe he wants to know what the date is. I could understand that. I often forget the date of people's birthdays all the time.
OBG: Do you mean the month or the date?
The G-Man: The month.
In-Head OBG: What the fuck?
OBG: January, why?
The G-Man: Oh. Well, I had a cool idea for a birthday present for you.
In-Head OBG: A birthday present?
OBG: A birthday present?
The G-Man: Yeah, but I guess Christmas will come first.
OBG: It usually does.
In-Head OBG: Damn. I should have said September.

It is now early Saturday morning and since insomnia has poked its ugly head into OBG's sleepy time, OBG has decided, for the first time in... well... ever, to get up and make the morning coffee. 

OBG (to the dog lying in the hallway): Come on, Kylie*, let's go downstairs and make some breakfast.
Kylie (gets up and heads into the G-Man's room): [snort]
OBG: Oh, I see how it is. When it's just the two of us home, we're best friends, but as soon as there's a man in the house, you want nothing to do with me. Typical.

After struggling with trying to figure out how to not only use but also open the fancy-schmancy Cuisinart coffee maker, OBG has successfully made coffee, her breakfast and has also discovered the Boomerang channel. We now join OBG on her way upstairs to inform the G-Man that she made coffee.

OBG (to the dog lying in the hallway): Hey Kylie.
Kylie (gets up and bolts into the G-Man's room): [scoff, snort]
OBG (entering the G-Man's room): Hey, I made coffee. And the dog is acting like a thirteen year middle school girl.

{Flashback to Monday}

The G-Man: Want to go to the gun show with me on Saturday?
OBG: Absolutely not.

{Flashback to Tuesday}

The G-Man: Want to go to the gun show with me on Saturday?
OBG: Absolutely not.

      

{Flashback to Wednesday}

The G-Man: Want to go to the gun show with me on Saturday?
OBG: Absolutely not.

{Flashback to Thursday}

The G-Man: Want to go to the gun show with me on Saturday?
OBG: Absolutely not.

     

{Flashback to Friday}

The G-Man: Want to go to the gun show with me on Saturday?
OBG: Absolutely not.

     

Later in the day on Saturday...

The G-Man: Want to go to the gun show with me today?
OBG: [heavy sigh] Fine.

   
After having survived the gun show and the bowling later on in the evening, we know join OBG and the G-Man in the living room, drinking coffee, Sunday morning.

The G-Man: I want to do something outside today.

OBG (pretending she's not hungover): That's great. It's beautiful out today.

The G-Man: I want to go walk some trails at the [something-or-another] Park. Want to go?

OBG: As in, hiking?

The G-Man: No, as in walking. Just on some flat trails through the woods.

OBG: Can't I just lay outside and read?

The G-Man: C'mon, it'll be fun.

OBG: Am I going to sweat?

The G-Man: I don't know.

OBG: Fine.

An hour or so later, OBG emerges from the bedroom wearing her cute little green plaid shorts and her cute white top with the embroidered flowers. Just then the G-Man emerges from his room in what can only be described as hiking clothes.

OBG: Uh, those look like serious hiking clothes.

The G-Man: What? Oh, well there's this trail I want to hike, and...

OBG: Hike? I thought this was a leisurely walk through the forest?

The G-Man: Walk. Whatever. Hiking's a relative term.

OBG: Uh, not really. Am I going to want to change?

The G-Man: Yeah, probably.

OBG: Are my boobs going to sweat?

The G-Man: Uh, I guess so.

OBG: Ugh. Fuck this shit.

The G-Man: Did you just say "Fuck this"?

OBG: No?

Next time on OBG...

... Did OBG's boobs sweat? Even though a brewing storm altered their plans, did the G-Man and OBG still go "walking" through the forest? Is "hiking" a relative term? And what's this about a gun show that we keep hearing about? Will OBG ever get her teaching portfolio complete in time for her interview? Will Kylie ever love OBG more than the men of the house? Will OBG ever remember to watch Project Runway this season? 

Stay tuned for the next episode of OBG, where all of these questions will be answered. Or none of them. It could go either way. 

* Kylie is the real name of the dog. It didn't seem necessary to give her a pseudonym as it is highly unlikely, as a dog, she will ever be visiting this blog. It is also highly unlikely that any of you reading this might know her in real-life, unless you're Upstairs Mike**, in which case, Kylie belongs to you, and OBG apologizes for comparing your dog to a teenage girl. 

** Not to be confused with Downstairs Mike. Both Mikes reside in the same house as OBG but you will rarely ever hear about them since they are rarely ever home. Apparently they have jobs that require them to fly to far off places like India and Germany and Paris and Austin. Whatever. Oh, and yes, both of their names are Mike, but since it is highly unlikely that they read this blog or that any of you know them, who cares?

I'm watching the Snorks. And the Smurfs. Jealous?*

* Sorry, my brain doesn't want to do clever titles this morning.

Last night was Night Ranger's birthday (25th), and he decided he wanted to have a low-key evening of bowling and beers. After last weekend's events, this was fine by me. Now, I'm not the greatest bowler in the world. Yes, my sisters and I used to bowl all the time when we were kids, but apparently it's not really acceptable for adults to bumper bowl, but whatever. My out-loud goal (the one I tell the people I'm with) when I bowl is to try and break 100, or at least not come in last place. My real goal when I bowl is to not fall flat on my ass in those slippery shoes. I have no problems making an ass of myself when I bowl, in fact I think it makes the game more fun when you throw in some theatrics, but I'd prefer to remain vertical.

Foot fungus aside, who doesn't love bowling shoes?

But I'm getting off track here. So, The G-Man, Night Ranger, Night Ranger's girlfriend, and I tied on our bowling shoes last night and, well, sucked ass, but we had a good time nonetheless. I was slightly concerned at the start of the evening whether or not I would have enough in common with Night Ranger's girl. Although I had met her once before, I was pretty sure she's eight or so years my junior. Seriously, when I asked her if she's ever watched Project Runway, she got all giddy and told me that her Fashion and Media teacher in high school used to have them watch it for class. Um, first of all, what's Fashion and Media? Second, did she just say when she was in high school? And thirdly, holy fuck, make me feel old. And then I was all sorts of jealous because who wouldn't have wanted to do Project Runway type stuff in high school art class? Awesome!

Turns out my concerns were unfounded. NR's girl and I had a fun time people watching and mocking the other bowlers at the alley (I truly believe a good time isn't necessarily dependent on the quality of the people you're with, but the quality of the people you're surrounded by. The lesser quality, the more material they provide for comic relief). On top of NR's girl being able to poke fun at others (believe it or not, some people aren't comfortable doing this. I don't like those people), she was also able to talk trashy reality shows as well. I'm not a huge reality show watcher, but I believe that if I'm going to have an informed opinion about such things (and I prefer all my opinions to be informed), then it is necessary to catch an episode or two of as many trash shows as I can (this does not, however, extend to Jersey Shore, which I refuse to watch on principle). At any rate, this is how most of our conversation with each other went that evening:

OBG: You know that one with the spoiled princesses who are taken away from their families...
NR's Girl: You're Cut Off!
OBG: Yeah that one, and there's that girl who won't change her daughter's diapers...
NR's Girl: Gia!
OBG: Is that her name? Yeah her. And then the one from NYC who everyone thought...
NR's Girl: Jaqueline! And they all think she's a call-girl because there's no way she works on Wall Street, and she's all, "but everyone does it."
OBG: Yeah, her.
OBG: And what's that one with Mel B?
NR's Girl: Dance Your Ass Off!
OBG: Right, and the one...
NR's Girl: Teen Mom!
OBG: Right, and...
NR's Girl: Celebrity Rehab!
OBG: Damn, you're good.
NR's Girl: I love reality TV.

Yeah, so conversation was good. And the evening was fairly uneventful, despite the fact that the words, "Who wants to do a shot?" were uttered. And then shots were done. Twice. Usually whenever that question is asked, my finger immediately goes to the tip of my nose and I scream, "Not it!" And then I'm all like, "Wait, what kind?" Which I said last night, and then Night Ranger (who obviously doesn't know me so well) was all, "We don't have to do straight-up liquor if that helps," and I was all, "But I'd rather do straight-up shots," and NR's girl was all, "Wait, you don't like mixed shots? Wow. OBG is hardcore." But I decided to take one for the team since it was Night Ranger's birthday and all, and I happily did a Kamikaze shot and a B-52 shot.

 Like liquor, these guys are better in small, shot-size doses.

On a side note, if you're a bartender and customers order four B-52 shots, and your first response is to ask, "What's in it?" and then your second response is to ask if it's the one with Jager and Red Bull (that's a California Car Bomb, dude), you might want to call in back-up. You definitely don't want to start asking your customers what beer they'll need to drop their shot in. (Although, in his defense, when Night Ranger first asked me if I "liked B-52s," I responded, "Yeah, the music in here does kind of suck, are you going to select something better?" and gestured towards the jukebox. His puzzled look made me realize that a- he meant the shot and b- he probably didn't even know who the B-52s were.) 

 Needless to say, our shots looked nothing like this.

So yeah, that was my weekend excitement. There was also that gun show I attended, but I'd hate to have you all super envious of my super sweet weekend, so I'll save that tale for another time, but I will mention that after attending a gun show in Virginia, I felt like I needed to bathe in Patchouli and find some hippie drum circle in a field to join in order to balance out my Karmic energy. Or something like that. How'd your weekend go?

What's for Lunch? July 30, 2010

             
I believe in grilled cheese sandwiches. I grew up on these things, and I still enjoy eating them. Over the years I have ventured into the world of what I like to call "grown-up grilled cheese sandwiches". You may know them as "melts" or other fancy titles, but in my kitchen, they're "grown-up grilled cheese sandwiches".

I truly believe that grilled sandwich making is an art. This art form varies greatly what with the invention of the pizza sandwich maker and the panini sandwich maker, but the classic grilled sandwich involves a skillet and a spatula (the flipping kind, not the scraping kind).

I also believe that a great sandwich requires quality and, when available, fresh ingredients. As a special treat, I have decided to document the tasty (and maybe not-so tasty) grown-up grilled cheese sandwiches I concoct from time to time. Whenever possible I will include pictures. In other words, when I remember to or can stop from consuming the sandwich in three belly-bloating bites, I'll grab my camera and photograph my lunch for you.

By no means will I attempt to call these sandwich "recipes" originals (or for that matter, healthy), but I hope you can find them inspiring nonetheless. Usually creating a grilled sandwich involves me wandering around the kitchen to see what sort of goodies and leftovers I have on hand. The sandwich creating process is hardly ever premeditated.

So, without further ado, I present to you...

The Chicken Parm Grilled Cheese Sandwich

(which, as it turns out, doesn't actually include any Parmesan cheese)

2 slices whole wheat bread

3 slices Mozzarella cheese

3 slices leftover roasted chicken breast

6-8 fresh basil leaves, chopped

3 tablespoons* leftover tomato sauce 
sea salt and black pepper to taste 

2 teaspoons garlic infused olive oil

Here's how the assembling process went down...

1. slice of bread. 
2. cheese (3 slices might sound like a lot, but I'm talking about 3 slices off of the block of cheese you might buy if you were making lasagna or fancy pizza, not the overpriced, pre-packaged, sliced garbage stores like to sell you).
3. chicken.
4. basil.
5. fresh ground black pepper.
6. tomato sauce.
7. other slice of bread.

I greased my frying pan with the garlic infused olive oil (which you can easily make by buying regular olive oil and dumping a bunch of fresh garlic cloves inside. The longer it sits in there, the more potent the garlic flavor). Then I slapped my sandwich down and grilled it (if you don't know how to grill a sandwich using just a flipper and a frying pan, call your grandma up and have her teach you). Between flips I ground some sea salt onto both sides of the bread, hoping for a pretzel type effect. It kind of worked.

And then I wolfed it down, which means, no pictures. Sorry.

* All 'spoon measurements are guesstimates as I don't actually measure anything.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Did You Know?

OBG had a sandwich filling "recipe" published on the website Allrecipes.com. As anyone who frequents this site and/or has tried to submit a recipe for "publication" would know, the criteria for selecting what recipes to publish is... uh... well, does anyone really know how recipes are chosen over there? At any rate, go check it out. Apparently people like it.

     

Mayo-Free Tuna Sandwich Filling

Dude, I'm beat, yo.

  

No, I haven't transformed into some sort of gangster/hippie hybrid overnight, but 'd' to the 'a•m•n' am I tired.

Too tired, in fact, to make coffee this morning, and since we're out of K-cups, I had tea. And tea is no substitute for coffee. Don't believe me? Why don't you go back and re-read that first sentence. Believe me now? Just be thankful I'm not to the point where I'm deliriously rolling around on the floor laughing like a maniacal crazy person. It's been known to happen, is all I'm saying.

This clock has no relevance to this post. I just thought it was cool.

So you might be wondering why the frick-frack I'm so tired (and when did I start becoming the type of person to replace all my curse words?)? Well, you got me (on both counts). It's not like I'm doing anything all day. However, if I have to blame something, I'm inclined to blame the following:

1. Medication. I'm on it. You don't need to know the details. Moving on.
2. Tension. The tension in the world of OBG is at extreme levels right now. What with job searching, apartment searching, money woes and so on and so on. I believe mental exhaustion can be more debilitating than physical exhaustion.
3. Laziness. I'm pretty sure I read studies about this sort of thing. The less active you are, the more tired you are. Or something like that. The only part of me getting any exercise lately are my fingers. I'm having a hard time convincing myself that it's okay to step away from the computer and the grind of job searching. 
4. Xbox and Dexter. Two things that have consumed my evenings of late. And when it's bedtime, these two get together in my dreams for nocturnal parties that drain the life out of me.
5. My Sleep Schedule. It's all out of whack. As I've discussed before, I'm a night person, and I have a tendency to be an insomniac. It is physically impossible for me to fall asleep before eleven pm, and often times, one am. And while I can be quite functional on a mere six hours of sleep, it is cruel and unusual punishment for me to be rudely awakened by bells and whistles and fog horns and alarms before seven am. Especially when I have a tendency to wake up during the night every few hours. *Sigh* I am so not built for the real world. 

So yeah, I'm tired. But I also have shit to do today, so while I'd really like to go take a quick power nap, I might actually go fold some laundry. Or something like that. And yeah, this post really has no point, but whatev'. I'm too tired to think. Get over it.

These two do not play well in sleepy time dreamland.

Oh, and I think this weekend is going to be relatively tame (thank God), but I did hear rumors of bowling tomorrow night, so that'll be cool. What are your weekend plans? Hope they're good ones (but if they're not, that's okay too).