To my friends: I love you...

But what I really want to do is vote, then leave the country and not come back until long after the election, and not speak to ANY of you. I understand you do NOT agree with me politically, and although I have not lost any respect or consideration that I have for you, there is no way I am going to agree with you. Regardless of the economical issues, I can't bring myself to vote for someone who goes against my morals in such a way that Obama does. I don't understand your constant need to defend yourself to me, to render anything I have to say as "stupid" or "ignorant," although I haven't done anything of the sort to you. Whether you agree with me or not, let me say what I want to say. If you think it's stupid, leave it at that and keep your mouth shut. Lord knows that's what I've done every time you have something to say about your preferences. It's sad that everyone seems to soak up the media like a rotten sponge, no matter what side is shown. I'm pro-life and anti-euthanasia. Obama is not. As for the idea of higher taxes for the "uber-rich," what I want to know is, why should those who have been successful be punished and made to pay for those who aren't, for whatever reason? I don't believe this is the answer to the improvement of the economy. No, I don't make $250K, but I plan on working hard and eventually reaching that level and beyond. I've seen those that are poor and living off of what the government gives them. Technically, I work for them. Let me tell you something...the last thing they need are more handouts. There are people that truly need it and I will not deny that. But I refuse to dependent upon the government with every fiber of my being. I will not be taken to that level.
So, my friends, I love you, but this is how I feel. It's more than voting with my pocketbook or my rosary. Vote for the person you like the best, and leave me to do the same.

I paid $80 for it; I can call it whatever I want!

I recently made a rather disturbing purchase. Well, maybe it's not so much "disturbing" as it is a radically new move for me. I never really thought I'd buy one, but it's really not such a bad idea. What is it? I bought a girdle. That's right - a beige creation that stretches from just below my bra to the middle of my thighs that must have been fashioned out of what could only be NASA-grade materials. When I set out to buy it, I figured my ideal body shaper would start at my ankles and work its way up like a tube of toothpaste so that I would just end up with a FANTASTIC rack (not that my rack isn't fantastic already). Alas, no one carried what I wanted short of a wetsuit, and wetsuits don't necessarily make one's boobs look good. (And how would I use the bathroom?) I did find something interesting, though. I'm going to call it a girdle because I think it's funny. Correct me all you want. It may really be called a "body shaper," or more commercially, "Spanx," but refer to the title of this post for my comment on that. I did pay $80 for it, after taxes and all. Estimated time for assembly: 15 minutes, or what felt like a lifetime. I needed MORAL support to get this sucker on. But the result? A sleeker me! The fat wasn't gone, but visibly diminished. My sharp curves were all smoothed out. Nice. Worth the 1/7 of my paycheck, after taxes. I wore it to a wedding this past weekend, one at which I really felt that I had to look good. As a test run, I wore it for a full day at work. It wasn't uncomfortable, but I nearly got a UTI since I was so scared of using the bathroom with the thing on. It did, however, improve my posture, and the next evening it looked just wonderful with the dress I wore. Conclusion? Girdles are GREAT. Girdles are magic. Girdles are....expensive. And if your mom really loves you, she'll help you in the bathroom of the reception hall so you can...um...go.

Stranded

Because of the recent strand of hurricanes in the Southeast and the Gulf area, the supply of gasoline to the region, mainly Georgia (since it is the largest state east of the Mississippi), has been strained if not cut off entirely. From what I have noticed, nine out of ten gas stations are out of service. I've been able to ride it out for the most part, until tonight. I had a little less than a quarter of a tank when I came to work this morning. I probably should have put a little in either then or on my lunch hour. But I didn't. Mea culpa, mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.
I waited in line after work for over 30 minutes at the Kroger station, barely moving, only to find out they had sold all they had. I figured I'd have enough to get home. I was wrong. I probably would have had enough to go home, but it wasn't enough to register with my computerized fuel injection system to start my car. Rats.
I am therefore stuck here at my best friend's house. Not a bad place to be stuck, mind you, but the situation stinks. Oh well...another day, another chance.

The Big Chill

I am getting the cold shoulder from my mother. I suppose I should enjoy it, but it is, to say the least, unnerving. I didn't want to go home after work, so I came to my friend's house, where I was plied with dinner, cheap wine, and promises of a catnap. Yet it has been four hours since I left the office, and not a single call from my mother OR my father trying to findout where I am. I guess since I am 25 years old it shouldn't matter, but I generally let them know where I am. Ever since last night's events, which only got worse after my previous post, I haven't been scrambling for the phone with any eagerness to speak to my mother. Does me not calling her to tell her where I am make me equally guilty?
I guess my reasoning behind this is to show my mom that I'm not the "spoiled, ungrateful little bitch" she seems to think I am. I don't know if she even gets that what she said really hurts. I'm not "given" everything like she says I am. I pay for everything on my own except rent. I buy my own food, pay for my own medical and insurance expenses, and don't cause any trouble. My room may be messy, but I don't bother anyone, and I'm not out getting drunk every night. I have good friends and a halfway decent job that I show up to every day. I generally let both of my parents know where I am and what I'm doing (within reason) each day. I really don't understand why she acts like this toward me. Menopause, perhaps?
Maybe we'll be over it in a few weeks or days, but for right now, I don't really want anything to do with her.

A Fine Line...

My best friend and her fiance are both visiting for a week, and so far I've had a great time. I really, really missed having her around, and I don't feel so...friendless. And they brought two fourteen-week-old shih tzu puppies to boot! Too cute...
All the same, my mom decides she wants to invite them over for dinner tonight, puppies and all. No problem, right? It was very nice idea. Yet, after dinner, she lays into me, telling me I am rude and a bitch, and in short, just plain nasty. Why? Because I wouldn't let her read my email. The email is question was from her sister, letting me know she didn't want me to visit her this year. I'll blog about that bullsh*t later. I told her what the email said, in a nutshell, but because I wouldn't read it to her, word for word, she says I'm a bitch. All of this with my friends within earshot. I clammed up. I figured it would be better not to say anything at all rather than be truly disrespectful to her, especially not in front of others. Usually she doesn't start picking on me until my friends leave. That didn't really change either, because as soon as the door shut after I showed them out, she started again, telling me I "have a real problem" and that she just doesn't understand what is wrong with me. So after I ironed my father's shirts for the week, I went to bed, with her making remarks as I am walking up the stairs. She even accused me of being upset because she invited my friends over, as if I were jealous or something. I could care less who asked them over; I was glad to have them there. I just knew that if I said anything I would only make it worse.
So it's a Catch-22 then?

Vices

This is bad. Really bad. I can't stop thinking about food. The more I think about exercising and eating better, cutting back on my intake, etcetera, the more I think about FOOD. Then when I think about food, I get cravings. I love watching Travel Channel and Food Network, and while that doesn't necessarily drive me directly to a craving attack, it does put the food on the brain.
I know I can do this, but why does my mind have to work against me?

Heaven

I cooked for a couple of friends last night, and I made something so good, I just have to share the recipe. It was so sublime, and I truly felt proud of myself for making it. It may seem like alot of work, but really it's just time. It's easy to make, and well worth the wait.

Pomodori al Forno

Ingredients
1 cups (or more) olive oil, divided
2 pounds plum tomatoes, halved lengthwise, seeded
1 1/2 teaspoons dried oregano
3/4 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 to 2 garlic cloves, minced
2 teaspoons minced fresh Italian parsley
Aged goat cheese (such as Bûcheron)
1 baguette, thinly sliced crosswise, toasted
INGREDIENT TIP/ Alta Cucina canned plum tomatoes are available online from sciabica.com.
Preparation
Preheat oven to 250°F. Pour 1/2 cup oil into 13x9x2-inch glass or ceramic baking dish. Arrange tomatoes in dish, cut side up. Drizzle with remaining 1/2 cup oil. Sprinkle with oregano, sugar, and salt. Bake 1 hour. Using tongs, turn tomatoes over. Bake 1 hour longer. Turn tomatoes over again. Bake until deep red and very tender, transferring tomatoes to plate when soft (time will vary, depending on ripeness of tomatoes), about 15 to 45 minutes longer.
Layer tomatoes in medium bowl, sprinkling garlic and parsley over each layer; reserve oil in baking dish. Drizzle tomatoes with reserved oil, adding more if necessary to cover. Let stand at room temperature 2 hours. DO AHEAD Cover; chill up to 5 days. Bring to room temperature before serving.
Serve with aged goat cheese and toasted baguette slices.


I got it out of this month's Bon Appetit, and I'm including the link:
http://www.bonappetit.com/magazine/2008/09/pomodori_al_forno

Enjoy, ya'll!