Joel and Rachel vs The Universe!

I know! I have been long gone. Holidays and such, you understand.

So, for the in-lawses we drew names this year, and put a $5 cap on the gifts. By the 23rd, Joel and I still had no gifts for everyone, and so embarked on the Joel and Rachel vs. The Universe adventure trip.

First stop: home, Craigslisting like bandits. Find styrofoam coolers, screwdriver (with LIGHTS on the end), and thermos for Joel's dad, wicked brass ladle for Joel's mom. All sweet gifts.
J&R: 1
Universe: 0

Second stop: somewhere in Vancouver to pick up styrofoam coolers (for free). No one is home. We phone, woman sends husband home to fetch coolers. Lose 10 minutes of valuable driving time, but acquire exceptionally large gift.
J&R: 2
Universe: 0

Third stop: home, because Joel forgot to bring the UBC hoodie he wants to exchange. Lose more valuable driving time. Point awarded to Universe, but remanded when heat is discovered to have been left on full, and fire to have surely ensued had we not returned home. Exchange considered a draw.
J&R: 2
Universe: 0

Fourth stop subsection A: UBC (Joel) to return hoodie. UBC takes hoodie, promises hoodie in larger size. Joel will have to do some serious angry phoning to actually acquire hoodie. Exchange considered a draw.
J&R: 2
Universe: 0

Fourth stop subsection B: UBC Staples (Raych) to return busted Palm Pilot. Staples manager is female, fails to be seduced by low-cut top. Refuses to exchange Palm Pilot based on long-expired warrenty.
J&R: 2
Universe: 1

(One week later, busted Palm mysteriously begins working again. Universe retains point for having caused week of inconvenience and mental anguish, J&R score point for luck.)

Fifth stop: somewhere in Vancouver to pick up $5 screwdriver with lights. While on the way there, Raych discovers old Scratch-n-Win in glove compartment, wins $3. Point awarded. Screwdriver obtained. Point awarded.
J&R: 5
Universe: 1

Sixth stop: some side street with eleventy feet of snow. Three-point-turn becomes quandry. Tiny Chinese woman offers shovel, and then assistance pushing car. Tiny Chinese woman and Raych fail to dislodge car. Futility and much sock-wetting ensues until passing man helps.
J&R: 5
Universe: 2

Seventh stop: same side street, some ways the other direction, to get free thermos. Beaten to punch, thermos gone.
J&R: 5
Universe: 3

Eighth stop: public library in Surrey to pick up sweet $5 brass ladle. Are pleasantly early, pass happy fifteen minutes watching enthusiastic ping pong players in rec center. Ladle arrives on time.
J&R: 6
Universe: 3

Ninth and final stop: Chilliwack, with all our goods. Everyone is thrilled with cheap, low-expectation gifts. Christmas is a success.

I am a master of the narrowly-averted disaster.

So, I feel like every time I post about cooking/baking/house cleaning, it's about how I set something on fire/broke the sink/seared off my eyebrows. I figured I should post a picture of something delicious I have made to help balance these stories out. Today is a bit of both.

Ok, so I like to make my own pizza dough because it's way easier to always have flour and oil on hand than to wedge frozen pizza crusts into our shoe-box sized freezer. PLUS I make a wikked-good pizza crust, and I like the way dough smells when it's rising.

Which brings me to today. Because for dough to rise, you need a warm environment. Basement suites = sub-arctic temperatures. I have, in the past, considered roosting on my dough to make it rise, but sometimes I got shit to do. ANYways, I figured out that if you turn the oven on for a minute, and then turn it off, it'll warm up enough to do the deed. I like to give the temperature a little flick again about halfway through the rising, because our oven has trouble retaining heat.

The trick is to turn the oven OFF after you've turned it on. Otherwise, instead of rising nicely, your dough will cook into a loaf-ball, and you will have to slice it and make those slices into pizza, because you have been Christmas shopping all day and are too hungry to start over. I was about eight seconds away from this happening to me today. I'm all, why is the oven smoking? Oh right, because I have a bowlful of dough with a dishtowel draped over it in there, AND IT'S ON!!!

Luckily, the dough was just this side of cooked, and I was able to spread it out and bedazzle it. So behold (a foodie photog I am not)! My sausage/red onion/tomato/cheddar and asiago cheese pizza! Covet it!!!

The most inspirational speech EVER!!

While, on the one hand, this is about the funniest thing I’ve seen in days, on the other hand, it totally brings a tear to my eye at the end, proof that I am completely willing to be emotionally manipulated by a handful of clichés and swelling violins.

This is why I run all the time.

Today, after having lunch twice, I ate a cookie that was 420 calories. I was at school and I had the pre-exam need to be chewing something, so I bought a 420-calorie oatmeal raisin bastard from the vending machine.

You know what else has 420 calories? A 5-oz steak! A quarter-pounder! Eighty-four baby carrots! Ok, that last one isn't really that impressive. I'd DEFS rather eat a giant cookie than my weight in baby carrots.

On the flip side, clocking in at a cool 90 calories are the lemon-fizzy-beverages Joel and I walked up to the IGA to buy, and then wanted to drink IMMEDIATELY on the way home, and had to pop the lids off of with my nail file, which broke the neck and cut Joel's lip. Should have just got sodas in cans.

I am a walrus

A lack of time desire any sort of cooking mojo, combined with cans of miscellanea lolling about in the pantry, multiplied by our impending move and the need to eat those cans, has led to such nutritious meals as 7-layer bean dip. Because nothing motivates studying like getting fatter. Or having mad gas.

#188 in Things I Fail At

I had $13 left on my Linens & Things gift card so I bought two wikked-sharp knives, and then cut myself getting one of them out of the package.

Twin brains! Also, sexy boots.

Me: *searching in vain for the Pot of Gold Mint Collection and finally giving up because, apparently, they're only available every fourth Christmas. For three days. At Shoppers.* Ah well, guess I'll just buy boo this chocolate orange for her birthday. Except the chocolate mint one, because the orange chocolate is gross.
.

Later on that day...
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Boo: Darren has one of those chocolate oranges.
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Me: Ick. Those are gross.
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Boo: I know. The mint ones are good, though.
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Me:...I may or may not have bought you one for your birthday.
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Boo: Because you couldn't find the Pot of Gold Mint Collection?
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Me: Yes!
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In other news, remember last winter when I bought myself some wikked moon boots? And how pleased I was with myself for being so practical? We've come a long way, baby. Check these bitches out.

These babies couldn't hit the broad side of practical from three feet away. But they are sexy, and comfortable, and RED, and cost me a healthy chunk of my Christmas money. In advance.

Hail Dec. 2nd!

What I meant to mention yesterday and forgot, in all the Doohoohoohoohoohoo excitement, was that it's waxy-chocolate time! By which I mean, bust out your dollar-store advent calendars, folks. Christmas is coming.

In which I say nothing, really

Ok, I went to go see a movie today, and while I usually love me some pre-preview trivia, I think the trivia screen got stuck on a loop and we ended up watching the same cringy video twice. If you don't feel like clicking the link and having the inanely catchy chorus stuck in your head for DAYS, or if you haven't got speakers, let me sum up:





The whole video consists of this rather adorable but undeniably middle-aged woman surfing in high-waisted board shorts, gyrating awkwardly in a quasi-muumuu, and generally making something of an ass of herself. The song was irritating enough, with it's 'All I want to do-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!' (seriously, it goes on waaaaaaay longer than you think it's going to), but the video could have been much less painful if they hadn't been trying to paint her as a sexy teen. Sexy 40-year-old is totally do-able.

Basically, what I'm saying here is, that song is still stuck in my head, and I've eaten too much, and now I'm cranky. Stop making crappy videos, people.