March 31st, 2008 | 22 Comments »

Warrior Woman pimped for me yesterday, bless her heart. She brought me a friend of hers who was very reluctant for a reading, but who came away from it very peaceful and glad she had decided to face her fears.

She brought another friend, who I had met previously, and while I did the reading in my office, the two others concocted food plans for the day. Her food buddy, Red, is a professional cook, and never cooks for Warrior Woman. Instead, she buys a load of food and schleps it over to WW’s apartment, and entrusts it to her excellent care.

Warrior Woman has a fetish for cookbooks, and by that I mean, get your mind out of the gutter, Knudsey. She collects them. She is a most excellent cook. I always look forward to her needing my techy help because she prefaces the request with an invite to dinner. Yum. It gives a whole new delicious meaning to “Will work for food.”

She hasn’t yet been able to replicate my most excellent homemade pizzas though, and it causes her pizza envy, Oh, be quiet, Knudsey.

So whenever she asks me if I have a hankering for my favourite red wine, I start a batch of pizza dough, because I know that’s what she wants for supper. She doesn’t ask directly for anything, rather she offers something first. It’s a funny little dance we do. The dance is funnier with the larger bottle of wine.

There is an art to making cheeseless pizza. (We both have issues). First, the crust must be thin. I use a rolling pin. And multigrain flour. I’m quirky that way. I also throw a few herbs into the dough.

The sauce is nothing special, just your everyday pasta sauce. I saute my onions and garlic before I put them on. I make sure I add herbs and spices to the mixture while it is frying. I use a mixture of ground pork and ground lean beef, suitably fried and spiced, and the thing that makes it so yummy is the sausage. Oh, the sausage. Sun-dried tomato sausage, fried and sliced up ahead of time. A few raw sliced mushrooms, and Bob’s your uncle.

It’s a lot of work to make pizza at casa witchypoo, but I cook a lot of the ingredients ahead of time and freeze them into pizza-sized portions.

It’s practically a tradition now. We only eat pizza when WW visits. If someone else came for pizza, it would feel like we were cheating on her. I guess you could say about me “Will cook for wine.”

March 30th, 2008 | 9 Comments »

Zoe

*snort* you know i LOVE all the boob talk. it’s right up my alley. but truely boobs are only feeding utensils and instruments to torture mindless men.

Warrior Woman

Ooooooohhh! I’ve been out-witty-commented. There’s always next week, my pretties……..

Teenie

Wow – I just don’t know how you ever choose from all these potential award winning comments. I think I need to practice “giving good comment.” Your comments area is the unofficial training grounds. ;)

In response to the Crazy ole turds post

Jenny says

Yeah, my kids will never know the times of fishing in the creek behind the house with an old bucket we found (stole?). Or spending countless hours incommunicado from the parents wandering hither and dither. I’m actually thinking of having a GPS chip implanted in their little heads.

And hey…just stay in the slow lane and I won’t run you off the road. =)

Zoe

ahhhh the good ole days. we lived in a commune and i spent all my time outside. we did not have a tv. we ate what we grew. my kids would think it was pure hell.

Knudsey, of course, makes his own excellent point:

We are bombarded with so much money-making sensory crap

But still I love yer blog! I am in no shape or form a hippy but I have commonsense, when you sail on a wooden boat you don’t start tearing it up for firewood. I want to live in a well armed compound and it was 10 years ago I was noticing the milder winters, if mother earth decided to wipe humans off the earth I wouldn’t blame her one bit like parasites we are. Growing corn for fuel because it makes money, growing opium instead of crops because it makes money, people don’t deserve the earth.

Warrior Woman

I hung out in nature and got scared of spiders. I kill them all with Raid.

The trees are a witness to the events of time, they live a long time. Fire takes care of the witnesses.

Big business is the evil doer.

I like winter, it makes all the spiders go to sleep

And the award goes to: The Over Thinker

Holy crap—I broke a sweat doing that one.

Wait for it….wait for it….

2:02!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Old Knudsen, will you sing my national anthem when I’m wearing the gold?)

Posted in Peep of the Week
March 29th, 2008 | 14 Comments »

I finally got to create this as a public puzzle by saying that people other than my family would find it interesting. You folks do, don’t you?

Create your own puzzles at PuzzleBee.com!

Posted in puzzles
March 28th, 2008 | 16 Comments »

Skinny Bitch has two children, Heartstopper, and George. They call him George after George Costanza on Seinfeld. He plans to stay in his room forever and never move out.

When they were little, Skinny Bitch caught them smoking. Being the perverse parent she is, she made an announcement.

“Go to your rooms and pack your bags. I’m calling the police to take you to the Home for Children Who Smoke.”

There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Heartstopper emerged from her room with a pronouncement.

“I quit!”

Neither has smoked since, although Skinny Bitch took up smoking at the age of 32, when she was imprisoned in a halo for five months with nothing else to do.

March 27th, 2008 | 14 Comments »

“I found this, Mom”

“What did you find, Ass Burger Boy?”

“This.”

“I can’t see it, it’s dark. NAME the object you are

holding in your hand.”

(frustrated) “THIS!” I can imagine him pointing to

the object in the dark.

This scenario also repeats itself when I’m driving, or doing something else

that needs full visual attention.

And my eyesight ain’t as sharp as it used to be.

When I can’t discern the object, he will edge closer

and closer to show me, rather than name the thing.

It drives me cah-ray-zee.

Not a long drive these days, I might add.

This is just one quirk I figure is attributable to Asperger’s Syndrome.

Did any of you watch Dawson’s Creek?

The boy is a dead ringer for Dawson.

Out of his mouth come the most bizarre and inappropriate things. He likes to shock people.

The other day, he asked me (a la boxers or briefs)

“Zucchini or cucumber?”

See, your mom isn’t someone you’re supposed to feel

comfortable asking that to.

He doesn’t hear my explanation of this concept (for what?…the zillionth time?)

He is doubled over with laughter.

Smartarse. Thinks he’s Tom Green.