!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



Anderson Cooper's face is made of win!

Actually, in hindsight, I think I'll alter the recipe slightly. They came out more brown-ish than the red velvet recipe I used to use, and have since lost.


They're a less red in life; this colour is even slightly redder than the inside of the cupcakes. They also tasted a tad bit chocolatier than I'm used to.

Part of the recipe calls for mixing the vinegar and baking soda, prompting a chemical reaction. The reaction which was originally utilized to make the rust colour they're named after was between vinegar, cocoa, and possibly also buttermilk. Next time I'll switch those steps: add the baking soda to the dry ingredients and mix the cocoa directly with the vinegar.

For your viewing pleasure, here is a photo of Mister Bones:

It's (maybe unintentionally?) hilarious.

It’s time to be less judgmental of the hipster kids, and maybe wear some of their clothes, too. So, hipsters: go ahead and crowd the city in your cute outfits and messy hair. Just smile more often, and maybe stop wearing those deep V-neck tees. They’re gross.

Walk a Mile in Their Droopy Cardigans

He does, even if just a little bit. I uploaded some photos of the new patio thing in the backyard, something that's been a brain child of my parents for quite a while, and various other things which were primarily for the benefit of Gob Dylan.

I am discovering what I think is a very healthy hatred of puffy sleeved shirts. Some of them, in particular, have irreconcilable differences with my biceps and deltoid muscles. All of them have puffy sleeves, which are puffy in slightly different (but apparently important?) ways. They remind me of disney, horrible role models, and the persistent infantilization of grown up women. Anyway, I shove the puffy sleeves under cardigans, and that helps, even though I look sort of like a librarian. (I don't mind that so much.)

I am slowly but surely introducing my parents to the ways of the Maddow show. Except that I'm kind of not, because I mostly forget when it's on and just watch it on my computer. At any rate, I am starting to suspect she may be the only tv pundit left who isn't a total nutcase or completely (utterly) in one tank or another. Glen Beck seems to be actually televising his slow but sure decent into mental illness and delirium, which mostly just makes me uncomfortable.

I am discovering a hatred of the puffy sleeved shirts because I am working/volunteering or something at the Holy Name Retreat Center, five days a week, from 8:30 to 4:30. These are suspiciously similar to the hours people keep when they have full time jobs. I don't know how I feel about that yet. I've lived through it so far, but it has only been two days.

Okay, actually I really like it. The work that I'm doing isn't mind numbing data entry, and involves sufficient puzzles and requires the use of enough logic that I'm not bored in any way, even though I might get a little frustrated with it. It's just the slow impending realization of my oldness, that one day, I like my friends will have a job like this. The kind of job where you go in and do things, and then leave; where you actually have a schedule with work time and home time compartmentalized and separated in a healthy way.

Also, there's a break room. Sometimes I hear the theme from The Office in my head. In that whole doing-stuff-in-an-office respect it's very unlike any other job I've ever held, except maybe the first, which I hardly even remember. Also, 40 hours a week. The fact that I spend approximately 2.5 or so of those hours eating free awesome lunch doesn't help as much as you would think it would. And it starts early, which means that if I get more than three or four hours of sleep a night, I fall asleep early. Really early - like nine or ten p.m. early so I can get up at six. fifteen. on my summer. break. Beh.

This is a silly identity crisis about my impending (already here) maturity. I'm sure it will be over soon. Did I mention the free awesome lunch? It's free. It's awesome. Today there was pie.