The 2nd Best Thing I've Ever Put In My Mouth*

One night several years ago, my sister happened to call around dinner time and this is how the conversation went:

Her: Whatcha doin'?

Me: Making dinner. Can I call you back later though, because I'm right in the middle of things.

Her: Sure, but what are you making?

Me: Tacos!

Her: Really? Tacos? {pause} For... ONE?

Me (feigning insult): YES, "TACOS FOR ONE"! What are you saying? Single people aren't allowed to make themselves tacos? GOOD DAY, SIR! {click}

In her defense, I think my answer caught her off guard, not that I was cooking something for myself. She'll be the first to admit that I love cooking--whether or not Jeremy is here to cook for-- and that I'm even pretty good at it. Her momentary shock at the idea of "tacos for one" and my immediate cobra-like strike back response was classic.

Whether it's "tacos for one" or something more elaborate and challenging, I never need an excuse to cook for myself or my loved ones. When I find something I want to make, I do it as soon as possible, which is why it's out of character that for 2 years I've been looking for a reason to make a certain recipe. This straight forward, moderately simple-sounding recipe intrigued me so much that after I did online research and came up with my own adaptation using different versions of it, I kept even the idea of making it to myself.

This was something that demanded the perfect opportunity to bake. Luckily--and without her realizing it-- my sister came up with a dinner party theme (is it just our family that does this?) that fit the bill. She decided to have a "Goodbye Beijing, Hello London 2012" dinner party on the night of the Olympics closing ceremonies, featuring traditional London eats.

My contribution (in a nod to all the pubs I enjoyed in London), and the reason for this post, was to be the famed Chocolate Guinness Cake, otherwise known as The 2nd best thing I've ever put in my mouth*.


The view, if I were an Olympic high diver on my way towards the most delicious pool in the world.

This recipe is not difficult, so don't be intimidated by the number of steps I've broken it down into. As the name suggests, you can make this cake with Guinness or any stout of your choosing. As mentioned above, I did a lot of research because there are so many iterations of this recipe online. The chocolate stout cake recipe listed on Epicurious has 300 reviews alone, many with helpful tweaks and nearly all with strongly-worded advice to cut the recipe down by half unless you plan to serve it to an army; advice that I took to heart and we still had a bigger cake than anticipated. There are a handful of ways you can frost this cake, or you can dust it with powdered sugar and call it a day. I went with my go-to ganache, which is super easy.


The reason why you're licking your screen.


For some ingredients, I specified which brand I used, in case you're anything like my friend--and great cook--Scooter (of "Half-n-Falf" fame) who wants to make sure if she follows someone else's recipe exactly and it doesn't turn out, she can blame them. Just kidding, she doesn't really do that, but that woman likes me to get specific, so I'm doing the same thing for you to use as a recipe guide, not recipe law.

One final thing in this all-too-long preamble (I edited it down 3 times, I swear!): I realize that Scharffen Berger unsweetened cocoa powder is ridiculously expensive compared to what you'd usually have on hand. My grocery store had it marked down from $10 to less than $3, so because it's supposedly the best and because I'm not an idiot, I snapped it up immediately**. But that's just me.


Now calm down & get ahold of yourself (oh, please click that hotlink, you won't be sorry!) so you can get to baking!

The 2nd Best Thing I've Ever Put In My Mouth* Cake
If you're sharing this recipe with your mother, I suggest calling it "Chocolate Guinness Cake". It requires less awkward explanation, and you can trust me on that.

For the Cake:

• Three 9" pans or 1 bundt pan
  
• 1 cup stout (Young's Double Chocolate Stout); You'll need to pour closer to 2 cups FOAM INCLUDED from the bottle to the measuring cup to equal the 1 cup needed for this recipe.
  
• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter
  
• 3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder (Scharffen Berger natural unsweetened)
  
• 1/2 tsp cinnamon
• 2 cups CAKE flour (Swan's Down)
  
• 2 cups superfine sugar (Domino's)
  
• 1/2 Tablespoon baking soda
  
• 3/4 tsp salt
  
• 2 large eggs
  
• 3/4 cup sour cream (I used light sour cream, as kind of a joke, because have you read this recipe?)

For the Ganache:

• 2 cups heavy cream
  
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 18 oz. Semi-sweet chocolate chips (Guittard) Don't cheap out now! Use anything less than Nestle & you'll be sorry.

Note: If you bake this cake in a bundt pan, you can cut the ganache recipe down by one-third or in half since you won't have the layers to fill.

--

Cake instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350°F. 
2. Butter three 8-inch round cake pans with 2-inch-high sides. Line with parchment paper. Butter paper. You may be tempted to forego the parchment paper and buttering, but DO IT ANYWAY. Alternately, you could probably use a non-stick spray on the pans and parchment, but you're in this far already.
3. Sprinkle about 1 Tablespoon of cocoa powder (totally separate from what recipe calls for) in each pan, and shake around to coat buttered pan & parchment with a thin layer of cocoa. Tap out any extra. Set pans aside. The butter will help ensure this notoriously sticky batter doesn't stick, and the addition of cocoa powder dusting to the buttered coating helps the cakes release from the pans without breaking. I recommend doing this cocoa-powdering step over the sink or you'll have a big mess to deal with after you put the cakes in the oven, when you could instead be relaxing with your feet up while drinking the remaining chocolate stout out of a frosty mug.
4. Bring stout & butter to simmer in heavy saucepan over medium heat. Add cocoa powder and cinnamon; whisk until mixture is smooth. Remove from heat and cool slightly.
5. Whisk flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt in separate large bowl to blend.
   
6. Using electric mixer, beat eggs and sour cream in another large bowl to blend. Add stout-chocolate mixture to egg mixture and beat just to combine. Add flour mixture and beat briefly on slow speed. 
7. Using rubber spatula, fold batter until completely combined. 
8. Divide batter equally among 3 prepared pans, filling halfway or less. Do not fill more than that because this recipe will rise more than you think. 
9. Bake until tester inserted into center of cakes comes out clean, about 35 minutes. 
10. Transfer cake pans to rack; cool at least 30 minutes. 
11. Turn cakes out onto rack, remove parchment and cool completely.

Ganache instructions:

1. Put chocolate chips in pyrex bowl, set aside. Bring cream and vanilla up to a slow boil in saucepan, then remove from heat. 
2. Immediately pour over chocolate chips and let sit for 5 minutes. 
3. Whisk until smooth. 
4. Refrigerate for up to an hour (or however long you can stand it), then whip for 2-5 minutes with hand mixer.
5. Place 1 cake layer on plate. Spread 1/4 of ganache over. Repeat with 2nd cake layer. Top with third cake layer, spreading remaining 1/2 of ganache over top & sides of entire cake. 
6. Optional: In addition to the ganache, add raspberries, strawberries, blackberries or maybe even snozzberries in between each layer and on the top.

--

After that, you should:

1. Serve immediately or refrigerate until serving
   
2. Unleash the motherf**king moonwalk!

--


*I know what you thought after reading that title, but you should give me a little more credit than that and get your mind out of the gutter. The first best thing I ever put in my mouth was THIS, though I realize you know me well enough to not be surprised at all if I said that I wish it was THIS. Drool.

**Come this winter, I'll use it in a 3:1 ratio with sugar to make Spammon's recipe for crazy-good hot cocoa, which along with one song in particular are nearly the only things that got me through the endless snowstorms of last winter.

Twick or Tweet

• Michael Phelps booked to host SNL. It's gonna take a Tina Fey miracle to pull that one off. He should stick to being half-naked in pools.


• @melisalw: Of course I'm going to watch. He might spend the entire show half-naked in a pool.


• @hopesmommy: His upper half! See my recent tweet to @TajWanders re: my use of a "Combos™ snack" as a euphemism for something Phelps-related.


• @astrogirl426: As long as he was half-naked, right? I mean, you wouldn't watch him read a soup can label dressed in a turtleneck & sweats?

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There's political leaning, and then there's this

Thanks to Facebook, I've been caught up in a wormhole along with just about everyone I've ever met in my entire life. For someone who moved around a lot growing up, it's been a total blast to reconnect with such a vast network of old friends. I've always been a shutterbug, so I already have a lot of photo albums on my FB page. This has both delighted and horrified some people, and the fact that I have a stack of about 100 more photos to scan has struck fear across this nation.

That sound you hear late at night is me, leaning back in my desk chair, rubbing my hands together and filling the darkness with wicked laughter.

The following is a recent Facebook IM'ing session with Logan (not his real name), who believes he's immortal after jumping out of a plane ON PURPOSE and not falling to his untimely death. I only mention this because he references it once and I wanted to disclose everything just like a lawyer would. Speaking of lawyers, "Logan" certainly isn't one, and he definitely isn't one who works for the government of a certain city, and he obviously wasn't engaging in this kind of conversation with me when he was on the clock as a government lawyer for a certain city. Just so we're clear on that.

If conversations like this aren't an advertisement for getting back in touch with people, even if it means sharing embarrassing photos of yourself (and others) dressed in uniform, I don't know what is.

Logan: Those were some fancy hats y'all wore.

Me: Hats?

Logan: In the "Clarinet Mafia" pics.


(Sidenote: Make sure when you get to the end of this post that you click to read the comments. I'm still giggling over some confusion this photo caused!*)


Me: OOOH! Yes, well, that was _________ High School's national award-winning marching band uniform for you. We all hated them, BTW. Which should go without saying.

Logan: Don't lie.

Me: Ok, we liked them a little. Like, if we needed a weapon of tickle-torture, we could use the feathers.

Logan: If I had a hat like that back then I'd have been getting so much play...

Me: Oh yeah. Definitely.

Logan: All I had was my gigantic cranium, and that didn't get me anywhere.

Me: A big head didn't get you any play? Sadness.

Logan: Given the proper adornment, though... I'd have been SET.

Me: Yeah, well on your huge cranium especially. We could just call it "insurance" for a sure thing. This puts an all-new spin on "feather in his cap".

Logan: Ouch. I'm just imagining where those feathers would be... Never mind. I'm talking about my actual CRANIUM.

Me: Ahhh, cranium is the word of the day.

Logan: Yeah, yeah...It is now, I guess; but I had been leaning towards "Vulva." I usually do.

Me: "Leaning Towards Vulva" might be the best indie band name ever. As in, "'Now on tour: 'LEANING TOWARDS VULVA!'"

Logan: "And now, straight from Long Beach, CA... 'Leaning Towards Vulva!'"

Me: "How you doin' Seattle? We are 'Leaning! Towards! Vulva'!"

Logan: I almost fell out of my chair, and that'd be a bad thing today.

Me: Hopefully not on your fancy hat.

Logan: No, on my gigantic... ummm... cranium.

Me: Wow, it really MUST be gigantic. I'm impressed.

Logan: No vulvas were harmed in the filming of Logan falling out of his chair onto his... Ummm... cranium. Well, not PERMANENTLY harmed, anyway.

Me: Vulvas, no. Feathers however, are another story.

Logan: Oh, the older I get, the more sophomoric I become, and the longer it takes for me to recover from acting younger than I actually am.

Me: Exactly. I'm going to write about this on my blog, you know. I won't use your real name, don't worry. Unless you want me to.

Logan: Feel free. What do I care? I survived a skydive. I'm inf**kingvincible! Just don't mention it was during "business hours."

Me: You lived to tell the tale of your ginormous skull. Generations will benefit...and vulvas, too, no doubt.

Logan: Hey, generations will ALWAYS benefit from MY being here, and from vulvas being here, as well.

Me: Without the vulvas, there'd be no generations. WHOA. That was a little too deep.

Logan: I'm not gonna even *touch* that one.

Me: But you'll lean towards it, right?

*Make sure you click below to read the comments.

Twick or Tweet

• The Hills needs 100% less Spencer + Heidi, and 1000% more Brody + JustinBobby. #


• If I see another Naomi Campbell dancing-with-CGI-geckos commercial, I'm gonna throw a cell phone at someone's head. #


• @tajwanders An e-mail using "Combos™ snack" as a euphemism for something Phelps-related making it's way to your "inbox" (not a euphemism)! #


• At traditional bi-annual trip to Sprecher Brewery, where tour guides speak with an enthusiasm that nearly covers their drunken slurring.#


• You'll never see a man move faster than after warning him if he doesn't hurry, he'll miss the pillow fight.#
  

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The first rule of Pillow Fight Club: Always talk about Pillow Fight Club. The second rule? Same as the first.

Note: Neither feathers nor personal reputations were harmed during this hijinks-filled night out with friends, whose names have been changed!

A lot has been written on a man's sense of humor being the most attractive thing to women, and I'm the first one to nod my head in agreement. If a guy is the right kind of funny, he will have my full attention. In the past few years I've read about how supposedly men aren't into funny women which turns out to be a non-issue because apparently there aren't funny women, only reproducing machines that bring babies into the world. I don't believe any of that idiocy comes from the thoughts & minds of REAL MEN, but is misinformation spread around by The Man*--whose main job is to keep us down--and not in a good way.

One of my oldest** and funniest friends, Linda (not her real name), drove from a few states away for an overnight visit that was planned in advance to coincide with a live performance of one of our newest*** friends, Dundee's (not his real name) band. I emailed him the day before the show to remind him that the song that truly makes me woozy isn't even on any of his CDs--yet!--and he can make it up to me by performing it at least once, or (and I quote), "for just long enough, if you know what I'm saying". 

I can express myself like that freely because most of my social circle consists of people who not only get my humor, but also give it right back. They make it possible to engage in the clever repartee that I live and breathe for (I really, really do), which makes me giddy. I'm thrilled to have so many friends with the ability to take something said in jest and run with it because it keeps me laughing. Dunn fits right in by demonstrating a good mix of his own biting wit, thinly-veiled euphamisms, and tongue always planted firmly in cheek.

Since I'm a giver, here is an excerpt from the text message conversation between Dundee & I (none of which should be taken seriously, as we're both shameless flirts with those we adore) on the day of his Chicago show:

Dunn (not his real name): Happy to hear you'll be at the show tonight, Sugar!

Me: If the message sent from this number to me was from 'Chocolate Thunder', I have bad news. I won't be in my usual seat at The Sugarshack for your performance because I'm seeing a different kind stage show tonight. Sorry.

Dunn: You know I love yo' sass.

Me: Oh, how embarrassing! I thought you were CT, who is someone else I know with OTHER talents. If you love my sass, you better prepare yourself for Linda because she's on her way here! Text her your appreciation in advance at ###-###-####.

Dunn: Linda will be at the show, too? I'll have my hands full with the two of you, for sure. BTW, I do have talent. At least 1/2 the skills of Choc Thunder. Let me demonstrate.

Me: I guess that means I better bring dollar bills to your show tonight, though if you only have 1/2 the skills, I can bring my smaller wallet.

Dunn: HA! Where are you right now? I mean exactly, with the zip code & everything. I'm pretty good at stalking, some say.

Me: You gather information for the people you'd like to stalk by ASKING THEM FOR IT? How refreshing. Although you can't really be considered good at something if someone is supplying you with the answers. You're not living up to your potential.

Dunn: Point taken. Does the fact that I'm bringing some great wine put me back in your good graces? If you stalk ME after the show, I'll even share.

Me: Oh, we'll definitely be stalking! It'll be good to have a night off from Chocolate Thunder. He never shares his wine, so you have THAT going for you.

Dunn: Which is nice. BTW, does Linda love me more than you do?

Me: That's a trick question.

Dunn: Absolutely not, it's very fair.

Me: I think you should text her yourself. Go right to the source.

Dunn: So, it's cool that I've been copying her on our messages already?

Me: HA! I call bullshit, but well played. You should actually be thanking me because she's where it's at, baby.

Dunn: Okay, Yenta.

Me: Me? Yenta? Never! Why you gotta treat me so bad?

Dunn: I'll only treat you with loving tenderness, my dear.

Me: That response was very Big Bad Wolf of you.

Dunn: No Big Bad Wolf here, I'm as gentle as a lamb.

Me: Oooh, I hope not!

Dunn: I lie for sh*t, don't I?

Me: You're terrible at it. It's shameful, really. Good thing I know you're great with your hands. When playing your guitar, I mean...

As expected, they put on an excellent show, which included a dedication to his *wink* "special friends" *wink* of my previously mentioned favorite song. Linda was fanning me midway through because I was, well, reacting to it. As the last note was thumped out on the bass, I heard myself yelling over the crowd's applause, "Do it again!". It was quite a moment. The band took a short break and he came to our table so we could make our post-show plan.

Twenty minutes after the show ended:

Dunn: Equipment all packed up. After-show plan in full effect?

Me&Linda: Bring wine, and hurry up or you'll miss the pillow fight****!

Dunn: I'll be right over, and you girls had better not be kidding.

*Jerry Lewis
**23 years & counting
***Less than that
****If you ever want a man to hurry up, use that line. Works every time, no joke.

Putting the Hump in Humpday: Parallel, perpendicular or diagonal hardly matters if I'm enveloped in that wing span

His body is ridiculous.

My oldest friend is my oldest friend for many reasons, one being that when she can't think of the exact word for something, even when the word she uses in place of the exact word should easily lead her to the exact word but doesn't, we laugh about it together. Another reason is because she humors my related, but beside-the-point thoughts that I enjoy discussing simultaneously*. A parallel conversation if you will:

Charissa: "Did you see the men's gymnastics last night?"

Me: "Only because I had to watch something when Michael Phelps wasn't shattering world records with his 6'7" wing span, size 14 feet and double-jointed knees. Or when I was text messaging people about his insane musculature, and the crime that was committed by the inventor of those high tech swimsuits that cover most of his sinewy body when he's cutting through the water."

Charissa: "Interesting. So, did you see when the gymnasts were on those side-by-side bars?"

Me: "I'm sorry, what? I'm still stuck on the measurements of Michael Phelps. The commentators said something about his ankles, too... but I'm still trying to figure out how his double-jointed knees could come in handy. Oh wait, I just pictured it, and I'll now refer to the worldwide competition he's in as the Big 'O'-lympics."

Charissa: "Anyway, did you see the men's gymnastic routines they did on those side-by-side bars or what? I don't know what they're actually called, but you know what I mean, right?"

Me: "The parallel bars?"

Charissa: "Yeah, parallel. That sounds about right."




*Not all the time, just when someone like Michael Phelps is on the brain. Really, I blame Bob Costas for spewing out all the stats about Phelps' body irresponsibly and haphazardly, like it was the last thing he had to confess before being shoved into a volcano. It was such a clustered flurry of sport porn that I could only commit 3 to memory. In the meantime I'm going to just focus on what wins him the gold... his stroke. (RIMSHOT!)


Click HERE to read previous Humpday posts.

It was a dark and stormy night... seriously!

It really, really was.

If you've been keeping up with my twitter updates in the right sidebar (or you can follow them directly here), you know by now that we had terrible weather in Chicago on Monday; weather that included emergency alerts ordering everyone to dive into the nearest basement, the city storm-siren going off, a neighborhood-wrecking tornado that touched down 6 miles from where I was taking cover in my (empty) bathtub, and the delight of a 24-hour power outage.

Of course there have been more devastating storms around the world, but it was pretty intense. I have never heard Mother (Mutha!) Nature make such terrible, cringe-worthy and evil sounds as I did on Monday night. I love a good rainstorm, but I'm not going to lie; for about 45 minutes I was actually scared. Like, HOLY-SH*T,-I'M-GONNA-DIE scared. I got through it unscathed, thankfully. My only connection to other people and activities to pass the time was my cell phone, so between that and the crazy weather, I was able to enjoy the following:

1) Congratulating myself for money well-spent, Part 1
The video game Tetris that I purchased for my cell phone last month more than paid for itself, and is the best $2.99 ever spent. Not to be confused with The Best $29.99 Ever Spent.

2) I laughed, I cried!
After sending a 86% serious text message with the general sentiment being, "HOLY SH*T, I'M GONNA DIE", my favorite [Cherry] Ride responded with a diversionary tactic, which is exactly what I needed: "Good luck & be safe! Meanwhile, weather here is perfect & I am tan again... (I laughed) ...The men here are awesome, get on a plane & join me!" (I cried. Almost.)

3) Twitter, twutter, tweet!
Twittering is the modern-day smoke signal and I love it. It allows me to send 140-character (or less) text message "tweets" to the right sidebar of my blog, without being anywhere near a computer. Click here to follow me directly on twitter.

4) My own personal weather girl, straight outta Texas.
My friend Jen felt compelled to watch the weather channel and supply me with 20-minute storm updates after I sent her a panicky text message that may or may not have mentioned something about it sounding like Hell's choir outside, and "HOLY SH*T, I'M GONNA DIE". Sensing a theme?

5) Congratulating myself for money well-spent, Part 2
Awhile ago, I bought a live version of Jimmy Buffet's "Why Don't We Get Drunk & Screw" and assigned it as a special ringtone for a few of my friends serial drunk-dialers in my life. I won't mention any names because the guilty parties know who they are. In addition to it being the perfect ringtone for certain people, it's a good song to listen to repeatedly while sitting in your bathtub during inclement weather because who can think about the roof tearing off (and not in the GOOD way*) when you're consumed with thoughts of consuming margaritas?:

Double-click on the 'play' arrow if you have trouble with the imeem player.

6) Deciding ComEd qualifies as a drunk-dialer
I went ahead and assigned the "Why Don't We Get Drunk and Screw" ringtone to the electric company after one too many puzzling power outage update phone calls from their automated messaging system. My favorite recorded call from them was, and I quote, "We understand that restoration times are important, but accurate restoration times are more important." Talking nonsense in circles is the classic drunk-dial, and obviously their automated messaging system was wasted.

7) Attempting my earliest bedtime since 9th grade
I tried--and failed--going to bed before my usual time of 1:30 a.m since there was no sign of my power coming back on anytime soon and it was either sleep or sweat. Just as my head hit the pillow, my phone rang (I'll give you one guess which ringtone!) and I ended up on a 3-way phone call from the aforementioned Jen and our very old friend Danny, who we just reconnected with after 20 years. It was kind of like them calling to make sure I was still alive and then killing me with the crushing realization of how many years have gone by since we were all in the same classroom. Thanks, guys!

8) Being an optimist, even in little ways
All that time playing Tetris, text messaging, song-playing, and talking on the phone meant that the battery was running on empty. The electricity was still out, but I decided that just in case it came back on before morning, I'd plug it into the charger and hope for the best. That ended up being a no-go, but it did have just enough juice left to beep for the alarm I set before it died the death.

9) Confirming that I'm not optomistic enough to consider romantic showering a SOLO endeavor.
My bathroom doesn't have any natural light, and even the bright light of day from my bedroom couldn't do anything for the cave my shower seemed to be that morning. So, I put 3 big candles usually kept in the living room on my bathroom counter, but purely out of necessity. Unfortunately.

10) Getting proof that the next generation is awesome, and they love me. Or awesome because they love me, I'm not sure which.
After my non-romantic candlelit shower, I went to my sister's house to charge my phone before work. Luckily they weren't affected by the storm at all, and they only live 15 miles from me. While there, I read this email from Jen about her daughter, who happens to be my favorite 10-year old. After you read this, she might be your favorite 10-year old, too:

Katie shared her "My prars to God and other stuff" journal with me this morning and her prayer for last night was:

"Augist 4, 2008. Dear Loard, plese keep Juley safe from the tornatow and protect her."

She may not be able to spell, but she has such a good heart! The funniest thing is how she spells "AMEN". Ready for this?  All Men!!! She does have a lot of her mother in her, doesn't she?

You have learned well, Grasshopper! You even know how to hold onto a tree during a tornatow!    Image ©HouseofJules


Going by that All Men thing, she certainly does have a lot of her mother in her... and maybe a little bit of her, ahem, more discriminating "Aunt Juley", too. Since I don't spell like a 10-year old, I think I'll take partial credit for her sweetness sassiness.

Long story short: holy sh*t, I didn't die! To that I say, All men, everybody, all men.


*If you read that phrase and didn't actually click the hotlink, you're missing out on a good thing. Scroll back up to number 5 and click the purple words! You're welcome.

A good excuse to work "I'm here to PUMP (clap) YOU UP!" into your next conversation

I know posts have been kind of lacking around here lately, but I've been busy. Not busy in the patronizing way, as if to say snootily and with a feigned Madonna-British accent, "I'm much too busy for this sort of trivial internette task", but busy in the way that I've had things going on away from home and computer, or busy in the way that my head has been consumed with thoughts and conversations I can't put on blast because several people would kill me so hard that I'd die the death. You know, that kind of busy.

It's not just that I've been social butterfly-flitting around even more than usual, but it doesn't help that I have 4 posts in the works--none of which are finished yet. If you want to know how successful that can be, it's exactly like reading 4 books concurrently; it takes much longer to get to the end of each of them, and it's all you can do not to chuck them all out the proverbial window and do a happy dance. My plan is to get some of that frustration out in other ways (HEY-OH!) so I can wrap a couple of them up in time for your enjoyment next week.

Until then, I have the following gem for you. First, you should know that I couldn't care less about Katherine Heigl's career but that's mostly because I think she's a total douche. I know everyone doesn't feel that way (sorry, Swishy!) but I say RELEASE THE HOUNDS, and by "hounds", I mean Heigl from her torturous contract at Grey's Anatomy, a contract that I assume isn't paying her enough to support her smoking habit. Oooh, burn!

Also, I haven't watched GA since the end of the first season... technically I watched the entire first season and the first episode of the 2nd season, but I could just smell the suck factor so I dropped it like a bad habit. It sounds more harsh than it was but life is too short to sit through TV shows that aren't doing it for me. I don't have DVR, so I sit through commercials. Which means I don't take my TV shows lightly. Commercials=commitment. Besides, if someday I feel the need to revisit a show, I'll just get the DVDs from Netflix. What did I ever do without Netflix?

Where was I? Oh yes, Katherine Heigl. Whether you like her or not, this headline is enjoyable on a level that doesn't even relate to the future of her character on the show, because when I read it, I heard California's Governor in my head:



Double-click either "play" arrow if you have trouble with the video:

"It's NOT a tuma! It's not a tuma... at all!"


Enjoy a tuma-free weekend!