August 15, 2005
1/2 c butterscotch chips
1/4 c Butter or margarine
1 ea Egg
3/4 c Flour
1/4 t Salt
1/2 t Vanilla
1/3 c Brown sugar, packed
1 t Baking powder
1 c Mini marshamallows
1 c Chocolate chips
1/4 c Chopped nuts
Melt butterscotch chips and butter or margarine together over low heat, stirring constantly. Cool to lukewarm. Beat in egg. Combine dry ingredients including sugar, and stir into melted mixture. Fold in remaining stuff, just enough to combine (about 5 strokes). Spread in greased 9x9 inch pan and bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes.Do not overbake; center will be jiggly, but firms up as it cools.
Update: A very polite commenter reminded me that I'd forgotten to list the quantity for butterscotch chips. Whoops. Anyway, the recipe has been corrected.
Update: I originally listed 13 cups of chocolate chips, not 1/3 cup. Fudgy yes, but not brownies. Sorry for any confusion.
August 11, 2005
I was working part time in a five and dime. My boss was Mr. Magee. He was six foot four and full of muscles and walked like an Egyptian, but I was happy to be stuck with him. One manic Monday, while I was busy working for the weekend, I overheard him make a careless whisper.
He told two of my co-workers, Jack and Diane, that I gave love a bad name. Well, I got so emotional, baby. I told him to say say say what he wants, but don't play games with my affection. He told me it was hard for him to say he's sorry and not to worry, to be happy. Then he blamed it on the rain. He was so out of touch. It just took my breath away. I couldn't fight this feeling any longer. I asked him "What's love got to do with it?" He told me to get outta his store and his dreams and into my car.
So I figured I might as well jump. I cut footloose, went home and called my girl, Jenny. (You already know the number) She was on the other line with Amanda. They were talking about Mickey and how he was so fine. That blew my mind! Was she really going out with him? I told her that I had just called to say I love her. She told me she had been saving all her love for me, but now she was looking for a new love - hasta la vista, baby. I thought "I can't go for that - no can do! Bring me a higher love!" I called up some of my old west end girls, hoping that one of them would want to get physical all night long (all night).
First I called Billie Jean - she told me to beat it. I called Rosanna - her sister Christian blessed the rains down in Africa and then hung up on me. Come on, Eileen! ... no answer. Nobody told me there'd be days like these! I was feeling like the owner of a lonely heart.
Then, out of the blue, my best friend's girlfriend (she used to be mine) Roxanne calls. Yes, the real Roxanne. She told me she still hadn't found what she's looking for and that she wanted to take on me. I said "I thought you were Jessie's girl." She said "Don't you want me? You don't have to put on the red light - I'm on my own." What a feeling! I had the eye of the tiger. Who was I f-f-f-foolin? Roxanne drove me crazy like no one else. She's a beauty! She blinded me with science, and weird science at that. There was always something there to remind me of her and I just knew that I'd have the time of my life.
I wasn't about to la-di-da-di. I jumped in my little red Corvette and rocked down to Electric Avenue. I got my mind set on her. When I got to her house (in the middle of her street) I ran. I rapped on her front door and to this rapper's delight, I heard a voice say "Who can it be now?" "Here I am, the one that you love", I replied. I let my love open the door and was immediately lost in her eyes. I felt like a virgin touched for the very first time. She loosened her blouse and said "Rock me Amadeus!" Well, I felt it was my prerogative to bust a move. I told her "I'll tumble for ya!" as I pinned her on the stairs, hungry like the wolf.
Just then I felt an invisible touch on my shoulder. "Turn around bright eyes!" said a familiar voice. As I did, Jessie hit me with a sledgehammer of an uppercut that spun me right round like a record. He was hangin' tough and continued to roll with it, knocking the wind from beneath my wings - broken wings by this time. He rocked me tonight, for old time's sake, beating me from head to toe, until my true colours were black and blue and blood was spilling from my mouth like red, red wine. "You don't owe me money for nothing!" he snarled. At this point I was livin' on a prayer. I crawled back to my little red Corvette and drove home thinking about how my tainted love had cut like a knife - how it seems that every rose, truly, has its thorn. No longer do I want to know what love is. Love stinks.
August 09, 2005
Get well soon, Kate.
About 10 years ago, I lived in a 50 year old house that had a detached garage. The garage contained a Smithsonian quality vintage refrigerator inside that surprisingly still worked. The 100 or so bottles of beer that I brewed each month had a nice, cold place to live without preventing me from storing perishables. One afternoon, after a long day at work, I walked out to the garage to grab a chilly one. When I placed my hand upon the doorknob, I noticed something sticky, which reflect a bit of sunlight. My eyes moved up until I noticed that I was staring at grayish blob, somewhere between the size of a silver half-dollar and dollar, and about 6 inches from my face. I knew right away that it was a spider(middle of the web and all), but I wasn't certain if it was still alive or was simply a clinging, crumpled legs corpse. So I grabbed a stick and took a swing at the thing. My aim was a bit off, what with my being in shock and all, but I noticed that the form shrunk in on itself a bit. Great; it's alive. So I swung again. Must have gotten a bit closer because the fun began in earnest.
The spider extended its legs ::SPLANG:: and started making for the top of the garage. I hesitated for a split second due to two things:
1) The thing was freaking enormous. It's splayed legs covered an area greater than that of my hands with all fingers fully extended. And
2) The knowledge that another 1/8 of a step would have placed that bad boy squarely on my kisser.
Fear is a great motivator, but so is good beer. If I didn't somehow kill that mutant extra from Kingdom of the Spiders, I would be unable to enter my garage until winter. Being cocooned as an after dinner snack just doesn't appeal to me. Anyway, I swung one last time at the swiftly vanishing creature, applying extra force due to my thirst. The vile beast exploded into pieces, which thankfully landed nowhere near me.
Here's the kicker: my best friend was living in my house at the time. When I mentioned my arachnoid encounter, he replied, "Yeah, that thing was huge. I had to duck really low to get into the garage."
"WTF?! Why didn't you tell me about it? What would you have said if I told you the spider had jumped onto my face?"
"I'd have said, 'Gee, that's too bad'."
Yeah, I love the bastard, too.
Sorry, Harvey. I just couldn't resist
If World War Two had been an online Real Ttime Strategy game, the chat room traffic would have gone something like this.
*Hitler[AoE] has joined the game.*
*Eisenhower has joined the game.*
*paTTon has joined the game.*
*Churchill has joined the game.*
*benny-tow has joined the game.*
*T0J0 has joined the game.*
*Roosevelt has joined the game.*
*Stalin has joined the game.*
*deGaulle has joined the game.*
Roosevelt: hey sup
Hitler[AoE]: cool, i start with panzer tanks!
paTTon: lol more like panzy tanks
Roosevelt: o this fockin sucks i got a depression!
benny-tow: haha america sux
Stalin: hey hitler you dont fight me i dont fight u, cool?
Hitler[AoE]; sure whatever
deGaulle: **** Hitler rushed some1 help
Hitler[AoE]: lol byebye frenchy
Lots more for your reading pleasure.
August 07, 2005
This blog is a hobby, something I enjoy doing. It gives me chance to post whatever interests me, and it's allowed me to make some great cyber-contacts. I get some great dialogues going with frequent visitors; comments are always welcome. Having said that, I'll get to my point: you trackback spammers are really pissing me off. I find that I'm having to add about 50+ comments and/or trackbacks to MT's Blacklist every week. Assuming that last month's trend continues, I'll eventually be buried under an availanche of crap. I know that I could beg Pixy Misa for some help by adding something along the lines of a Turing test. Instead, I've decided to bend you folks over and shove something really hard up your collective asses. Any valid email address or website URL that I find buried in commercials for online gaming or Internet porn-but not restricted to those- will get either get one of two treatments. Both if I have the time:
1) Email addresses will be submitted at every pr0n listserver or website that I can find, including ones that refer to special relationships between humans and animals. As an added bonus, I'll sign you up for online mortgage quotes and free samples of penis-enlarging materials. Have fun with your spam filter.
2) I will fucking Googlebomb your website's name so that all searches for your site will automatically point to sites such as Stormfront. Maybe the IRS, if I'm feeling generous.
I realize that these activites will take away from the limited blogging time that I have, but I'm okay with that. Bitchslapping you cretinous pieces of human excrement will make my days just a little bit brighter.
And before anyone mentions it, yes, I'm aware that I'll be shoveling shit against the tide. I don't care. If it mucks up at least one or two trackback/comment spammers so that they have to switch sites/email addresses, I'll be happy.
P.S. This is, of course, a joke. I would never knowingly conspire to commit acts that might run me afoul of laws that protect the human debris using my blog as a wastebasket. Of course I wouldn't.
August 05, 2005
Once again, I forgot to submit. Sigh. Well, there's always next week.
August 04, 2005
One plus that I see this movie is that Bryce Dallas Howard will once again be starring. Whether or not you liked The Village, Opie's daughter delivered a stirring performance. I look forward to seeing her work again.
One final note: the release date is set for July 21, 2006. Only 350 days to go.
August 02, 2005
I used to despise Howard Dean. Now I just consider him the biggest floppy-shoed, bright ball-nosed clown in Washington.
I'm thinking of posting this on my PC screensaver to drive the lefty moonbats I work with completely batshit insane.
I think that I went to school with that girl.
Pfizer Corp. announced today that Viagra will soon be available in liquid
form, and will be marketed by Pepsi Cola as a power beverage suitable for
use as a mixer. It will now be possible for a man to literally pour himself
a stiff one. Obviously we can no longer call this a soft drink, and it gives
new meaning to The names of "cocktails", "highballs", and just a good
old-fashioned "stiff drink". Pepsi will market the new concoction by the
name of: "Mount & Do".
After hiring the teenager to baby sit, Grosbeck got the feeling something was wrong.
It was just that sense that something wasnt quite right with this 14-year-old girl, she said. She asked her son what had happened. He just came right out as if nothing was awry, and just started talking about what had happened.
Grosbeck went to police and child protection workers, and the case went to the district attorney, after which her son, age eight, had been charged with an act of lewdness with a minor.
Grosbeck says the Salt Lake County District Attorney told her both the child and teenager were equal participants. But Mrs. Grosbeck didnt believe that.
Do you wonder if the Salt Lake County DA subscribes to NAMBLA Monthly, or am I the only one?
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