- Writing stupid songs
- Attempting to be witty
- Drawing on myself
- Drawing on others
- Finding the onion (See "How Not To Make Peanut Butter Cookies")
- Personifying everything that doesn't already have a name or face
- Drawing faces on bananas/pistachio shells/other foodstuffs
- Yelling and swearing at uncooperative inanimate objects
- Pointing and laughing
- Killing the repo guy on Sims 3
- Slowly losing what little patience I used to possess
- Having a dog nom-nom-nom on my leg
- Not setting anything on fire
- Not making anything explode
- Not making anything implode
- Yet
- Preheating the oven
- Singing a duet with a lamppost
- Going crazier than usual
- Reading Twilight to put me to sleep
- Reading Maximum Ride to wake me up
- Talking to the TV
- Thinking about updating something but ultimately deciding it would be too much effort to log in
- Signing Off,
- Sweet but Insane
Friday, April 15, 2011
How I've Spent My Spring Vacation (So Far)
How Not To Make Peanut Butter Cookies
Hi there Sunshine!
So it's Spring Break. In an effort to defeat the boredom that comes hand-in-hand with not having a vacation home somewhere with white, sandy beaches (Or anywhere else), Teenage Venom and I banded together to make cookies. Peanut Butter Cookies, to be exact. The process was interesting, to say the least.
Now, we aren't exactly five star baking prodigies, but we don't really suck, either. If Teenage Venom and I were Sims, our Cooking Skill Levels would be in the three-to-four range. That's why the end results were somehow delicious. Compared to the process, it was a miracle, really.
Anyway, before we even started making the cookies, we were goofing around and having a laugh. This somehow resulted in us sticking several miscellanious food items on the oven, which was thankfully off. We named them Apocalypse Cookies, because my mom forbid us from actually baking them, so we were waiting for the Apocalypse, when temperatures would hopefully reach 350 degrees farenheit and bake our cookies.
Anyway, we cleaned all of that out and started mixing up the ingredients. And by "We", I mean Venom read off what we needed while I got it out, seeing as it was my kitchen and I knew where everything was. The recipe called for a measurement of baking powder (I don't remember how much) mixed with a cup and 1/4 cup of flour. Venom read this off to me, but I either wasn't paying attention or didn't hear her.
In any case, I only heard her say "1/4 cup of flour". So that's how much I put in.
Skipping ahead a few steps, the recipe required butter, sugar, brown sugar, one egg, and vanilla extract to be mixed together in the electric mixer until "Pale and fluffy". We compared its paleness to that of my forearm, since I'm the palest geek you'll ever meet. Vampires got nothin' on me.
We were just about to add the flour when my mom wandered in and saved our asses. "Is that all baking powder?" She peered into the bowl worriedly.
"No," I replied. "There's flour in there."
"No way." Mom shook her head. "That's not enough."
"Yes huh!" Venom chimed in. "A cup and a quarter cup of flour."
"Wait--" I said confusedly. "It's a quarter cup. Right?"
"And a whole cup."
"...Crap."
Thank God for Moms.
We added in the last of the flour, mixed it all up, then started plopping it on the cookie sheets. The first two batches came out okay, despite one of each being mutilated by Venom checking for done-ness with a tiny fork before they were even halfway done. Then we had only about enough dough left for two or three cookies. I combined it all into one and dubbed it "Pangea, the SuperCookie."
We opened the oven to put Pangea in, when suddenly...
"Hey... there's an... onion... in there...."
A single onion, the remains of our Apocalypse Cookies, had been charred to crisp for about an hour and was sitting sadly in the back of the oven, smoking slightly. We rescued the forlorn little onion and dumped it rudely in the garbage.
For some reason, I felt the need to take Pangea out before it was done. When I tried to scoop it off the rack to dry, it crumbled into pieces. Kind of ironic, when you think about it. One of the piece was even shaped vaguely like Africa.
They were delicious.
Signing Off,
Sweet but Insane
So it's Spring Break. In an effort to defeat the boredom that comes hand-in-hand with not having a vacation home somewhere with white, sandy beaches (Or anywhere else), Teenage Venom and I banded together to make cookies. Peanut Butter Cookies, to be exact. The process was interesting, to say the least.
Anyway, before we even started making the cookies, we were goofing around and having a laugh. This somehow resulted in us sticking several miscellanious food items on the oven, which was thankfully off. We named them Apocalypse Cookies, because my mom forbid us from actually baking them, so we were waiting for the Apocalypse, when temperatures would hopefully reach 350 degrees farenheit and bake our cookies.
Anyway, we cleaned all of that out and started mixing up the ingredients. And by "We", I mean Venom read off what we needed while I got it out, seeing as it was my kitchen and I knew where everything was. The recipe called for a measurement of baking powder (I don't remember how much) mixed with a cup and 1/4 cup of flour. Venom read this off to me, but I either wasn't paying attention or didn't hear her.
In any case, I only heard her say "1/4 cup of flour". So that's how much I put in.
Skipping ahead a few steps, the recipe required butter, sugar, brown sugar, one egg, and vanilla extract to be mixed together in the electric mixer until "Pale and fluffy". We compared its paleness to that of my forearm, since I'm the palest geek you'll ever meet. Vampires got nothin' on me.
We were just about to add the flour when my mom wandered in and saved our asses. "Is that all baking powder?" She peered into the bowl worriedly.
"No," I replied. "There's flour in there."
"No way." Mom shook her head. "That's not enough."
"Yes huh!" Venom chimed in. "A cup and a quarter cup of flour."
"Wait--" I said confusedly. "It's a quarter cup. Right?"
"And a whole cup."
"...Crap."
Thank God for Moms.
We added in the last of the flour, mixed it all up, then started plopping it on the cookie sheets. The first two batches came out okay, despite one of each being mutilated by Venom checking for done-ness with a tiny fork before they were even halfway done. Then we had only about enough dough left for two or three cookies. I combined it all into one and dubbed it "Pangea, the SuperCookie."
We opened the oven to put Pangea in, when suddenly...
"Hey... there's an... onion... in there...."
A single onion, the remains of our Apocalypse Cookies, had been charred to crisp for about an hour and was sitting sadly in the back of the oven, smoking slightly. We rescued the forlorn little onion and dumped it rudely in the garbage.
For some reason, I felt the need to take Pangea out before it was done. When I tried to scoop it off the rack to dry, it crumbled into pieces. Kind of ironic, when you think about it. One of the piece was even shaped vaguely like Africa.
They were delicious.
Signing Off,
Sweet but Insane
Friday, April 8, 2011
RANT: I Become A Hellacious Demon-Child In Defense of My Fictional Friends
Hi there Sunshine!
You know what really pisses me off? Maximum Ride Fanfictional cliches. One in particular.
We're all guilty. There a thousands of variations of this cliche, some worse than others. If you haven't written one, you've read one. It's the one where -- Well, I'm just gonna walk you through it.
Step 1 -- Setting the Scene. It's usually All Human (AH). Max and Fang are either best friends or worst enemies (Goes either way), Ella and Nudge are best friends, and Iggy will inevitably end up with one of the two, which will most likely be the extent of his part in the story. A waste of a perfectly good blind pyro chef.
2) Max puts up an unbearably large hissy fit about having to get a make-over. Sometimes to even just go shopping. Which is completely unjustified. I mean, who decided that Max must despise everything girly to the point of... this! There are tons of completely legit cases from the books where Max hints that she might even enjoy shopping once in a while. I point to Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports as proof -- Jeb pronounces Max as "incorruptible", to which Max replies "At least by power. You haven't tried chocolate or cute shoes." Also, her apocalypse rant in StWaOES has a good point.
Besides, why in the hell should she hate it? Just because she's a bad-ass butt-kicking mutant doesn't mean she doesn't want nice things. In AH fics, people are always trying to make them seem canon, but they get Max all wrong.
3) The person forcing the make-over is always Nudge. Usually accompanied by Ella. Now Nudge, I can understand, Nudge makes sense, but why bring Ella into this? She's one of my favorite characters, the one I can relate to the most! What with our love for Iggy, creepily similar moms, and the fact that her half-sister is Max and my BFF Kayla is exactly like Max, we might as well be twins! Also, no where in the books does it hint that Ella is a girly-girl, fashionista, or an OMGTOTALLYAWESOME!!1!!1!11! make-up artist.
4) After the make-over, Max apparently looks soooo hawttt that Fang falls in love with her on the spot. Even if they totally hated each other beforehand. In fact, the author often makes other male characters fall in love with her too, most often Sam or Dylan. Sometimes both.
Supposedly, Max must then go through the heart-wrenching decision of choosing between the two/three. She will probably also suck face with each of them at some point. Which is extremely non-canon. But we all know she'll choose Fang anyway, so who cares?
Another thing that drives me crazy? The Bandfics. Oh Lawd, don't even get me started on the Bandfics.
NOBODY KNOWS WHAT THE FRICK THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT!
You'd think they'd do a little research. The only reason I know they don't know what they're talking about is because my brother has a band.
They have no idea how complicated it actually is to get everything right when you're performing live. Like, how you've gotta do sound checks, you're guitar actually needs tuning, amps have cords, it can be hard for the singer to hear him or herself over the band, it's incredibly difficult to play guitar and sing at the same time. Not the kind of thing you can master right away.
And the positions of the band they put the Flock members in make no sense. It's usually a little something like this:
Max- Vocals, 'cause she's the leader
Fang- Lead Guitar, 'cause he's the second-in-command
Iggy- Drums, 'cause most people think he's stupid for some reason.
And someone like Sam or Dylan on Bass, 'cause no one cares about bass players anyway.
Being the little sister of a bass player, I know that the bass player deserves way more credit than they get. If they weren't there, you would miss them right away. They're the yin to the guitarist's yang, the balance, the rhythm-keeper. That's why I would put Fang as the bassist. He helps balance out Max's snap-decisions.
I would put Max on lead guitar, because she seems like a lead guitarist. Impulsive, fast-paced solos, but can still stick to a plan by jamming out a heavy riff. Plus, it's been made pretty clear that she cannot sing.
Drummers are some of the most stereotyped members of the music world. Why does everyone think drummers are stupid? I happen to have a monster crush on a certain very talented drummer who is not thick-headed in any sense of the word. He's actually one of the smartest people I know. And no, I'm not talking about Iggy, because I would place him as the singer. Think about it -- he's Iggy. He wouldn't be self-conscious about it at all.
And for drummer, I would say Nudge. For the simple reason that the kid has got waaay too much energy. Plus, having a girly African-American fashionista as a drummer of a rock band can help break the stereotype.
A Great FAX Song:
"I'm Only Me When I'm With You" by Taylor Swift. Possibly the only song where every line fits Max and Fang perfectly. Seriously. Go look it up, right now.
Signing Off,
Sweet but Insane
You know what really pisses me off? Maximum Ride Fanfictional cliches. One in particular.
We're all guilty. There a thousands of variations of this cliche, some worse than others. If you haven't written one, you've read one. It's the one where -- Well, I'm just gonna walk you through it.
Step 1 -- Setting the Scene. It's usually All Human (AH). Max and Fang are either best friends or worst enemies (Goes either way), Ella and Nudge are best friends, and Iggy will inevitably end up with one of the two, which will most likely be the extent of his part in the story. A waste of a perfectly good blind pyro chef.
2) Max puts up an unbearably large hissy fit about having to get a make-over. Sometimes to even just go shopping. Which is completely unjustified. I mean, who decided that Max must despise everything girly to the point of... this! There are tons of completely legit cases from the books where Max hints that she might even enjoy shopping once in a while. I point to Saving the World and Other Extreme Sports as proof -- Jeb pronounces Max as "incorruptible", to which Max replies "At least by power. You haven't tried chocolate or cute shoes." Also, her apocalypse rant in StWaOES has a good point.3) The person forcing the make-over is always Nudge. Usually accompanied by Ella. Now Nudge, I can understand, Nudge makes sense, but why bring Ella into this? She's one of my favorite characters, the one I can relate to the most! What with our love for Iggy, creepily similar moms, and the fact that her half-sister is Max and my BFF Kayla is exactly like Max, we might as well be twins! Also, no where in the books does it hint that Ella is a girly-girl, fashionista, or an OMGTOTALLYAWESOME!!1!!1!11! make-up artist.
4) After the make-over, Max apparently looks soooo hawttt that Fang falls in love with her on the spot. Even if they totally hated each other beforehand. In fact, the author often makes other male characters fall in love with her too, most often Sam or Dylan. Sometimes both.
Supposedly, Max must then go through the heart-wrenching decision of choosing between the two/three. She will probably also suck face with each of them at some point. Which is extremely non-canon. But we all know she'll choose Fang anyway, so who cares?
Another thing that drives me crazy? The Bandfics. Oh Lawd, don't even get me started on the Bandfics.
NOBODY KNOWS WHAT THE FRICK THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT!
You'd think they'd do a little research. The only reason I know they don't know what they're talking about is because my brother has a band.
They have no idea how complicated it actually is to get everything right when you're performing live. Like, how you've gotta do sound checks, you're guitar actually needs tuning, amps have cords, it can be hard for the singer to hear him or herself over the band, it's incredibly difficult to play guitar and sing at the same time. Not the kind of thing you can master right away.
And the positions of the band they put the Flock members in make no sense. It's usually a little something like this:
Max- Vocals, 'cause she's the leader
Fang- Lead Guitar, 'cause he's the second-in-command
Iggy- Drums, 'cause most people think he's stupid for some reason.
And someone like Sam or Dylan on Bass, 'cause no one cares about bass players anyway.
Being the little sister of a bass player, I know that the bass player deserves way more credit than they get. If they weren't there, you would miss them right away. They're the yin to the guitarist's yang, the balance, the rhythm-keeper. That's why I would put Fang as the bassist. He helps balance out Max's snap-decisions.
I would put Max on lead guitar, because she seems like a lead guitarist. Impulsive, fast-paced solos, but can still stick to a plan by jamming out a heavy riff. Plus, it's been made pretty clear that she cannot sing.
Drummers are some of the most stereotyped members of the music world. Why does everyone think drummers are stupid? I happen to have a monster crush on a certain very talented drummer who is not thick-headed in any sense of the word. He's actually one of the smartest people I know. And no, I'm not talking about Iggy, because I would place him as the singer. Think about it -- he's Iggy. He wouldn't be self-conscious about it at all.
And for drummer, I would say Nudge. For the simple reason that the kid has got waaay too much energy. Plus, having a girly African-American fashionista as a drummer of a rock band can help break the stereotype.
A Great FAX Song:
"I'm Only Me When I'm With You" by Taylor Swift. Possibly the only song where every line fits Max and Fang perfectly. Seriously. Go look it up, right now.
Signing Off,
Sweet but Insane
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