Fes Up Challenge from Facebook

This was posted by Bev. Here are my answers.

‘Fess up challenge!
-bath or shower? Shower
-straight or curly hair? Curly
-favorite movie? Not really.
-favorite holiday? St. Patrick’s Day
-Android or iPhone? Landline only.
– texting or calling? Email.
-Facebook or Twitter? Twitter
– favorite type of food? Mexican but not spicy and no cilantro.
– dream job? Evil villain or horror writer.
-favorite pizza? homemade with mozzarella cheese
– favorite cake? homemade cheesecake
– night or day? Very early morning.
-summer or winter? Winter
-wine or whiskey? Pass the coffee.
– favorite egg style? fried in butter on a toasted plain bagel.
-favorite TV show? Not really
-hair up or down? Got a shorter cut now I mostly just let it do what it wants.Or I tame it with a bandana when it goes too far.
-jeans or leggings? Sort of track yoga pants. I don’t want something clinging to my curves or showing my ass.
-favorite rock band? None.
-favorite color? Dark red, sometimes orange or blue.
-pullover or button-up shirt? Sack, with sleeves.
-flip flops or sneakers? Bare feet or clogs. Boots if there is snow.
-big pursue or small? Massive. I’m prepared for impulse travel.Plus, I always bring a book, a camera… other stuff.
-how many tattoos? None
– how many piercings? Five in my ear lobes have never healed over from a piercing accident in my youth.
-diamonds or pearls? I prefer Rhinestones with a lot of flashy colours.
– favorite animal? Cats, barn cats, feral or big cats.
– Rap or country music? Turn that down!
-Hiking or fishing? Exploring without harming worms or spiders.
– favorite place to shop? Second hand stores.
– best feature? My face. I’m 50+ and no one believes me. (They aren’t just being nice to the crazy, old lady).

May try Cinnamon Buns for the Party on Thursday

Quick Cinnamon Buns
By The Canadian Living Test Kitchen

Servings: 16

Ingredients:

3 cups (750 mL) all-purpose flour
2 tbsp (25 mL) granulated sugar
1 tbsp (15 mL) baking powder
3/4 tsp (4 mL) salt
1/2 tsp (2 mL) baking soda
2/3 cup (150 mL) cold butter, cubed
1-1/4 cups (300 mL) buttermilk
1 egg

Cinnamon Filling:

3 tbsp (50 mL) butter, softened
1/2 cup (125 mL) chopped pecans
1/3 cup (75 mL) packed brown sugar
2 tsp (10 mL) cinnamon

Preparation:

Line 12-inch (30 cm) pizza pan with parchment paper or dust lightly with flour; set aside.

In large bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder, salt and baking soda. With pastry blender, cut in butter until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. In separate bowl, whisk buttermilk with egg; pour over dry ingredients and stir with fork to make soft dough.

With floured hands, press dough into ball. On lightly floured surface, knead gently 10 times. Roll out to 16- x 11-inch (40 x 28 cm) rectangle .

Cinnamon Filling: Spread butter over dough, leaving 1/2-inch (1 cm) border along 1 long edge. Sprinkle butter with pecans, sugar and cinnamon. Starting at side opposite border, roll up evenly into log; pinch seam to seal.

Using serrated knife, cut into 1-inch (2.5 cm) thick slices; arrange on pizza pan. Bake in centre of 400°F (200°C) oven until golden, about 15 minutes. (Make-ahead: Let cool; set aside for up to 2 hours.)

Chef Michael Smith’s Cinnamon Buns

Zombie Grrl

Outside I can hear the wind rushing past the house. Dorothy and her little dog too should be flying past any time now. I guess that is one bonus of living in a basement apartment. As long as I can hang onto something down here the foundation isn’t likely blow away when the rest of the house goes.

Inside I’m a mess of germs. Just stick some of my cells on a petri dish and find all kinds of interesting new diseases. No doubt it’s the Canadian Maple Sap flu that is making my eyes burn holes in my head. It’s the Torontonian Grunge that has infected my head and is causing my brain to rebel and want to split off from the rest of me, much like Quebec. Soon I will begin speaking French even though I thought I had forgotten almost all of it once I escaped high school. The rest of my body isn’t really here any more it’s just an illusion.

I have an appointment at 10:00 tomorrow morning. I have to make my body obey and actually arrive there. I think I’m even going to have to use my brain. This isn’t going to be pretty. On top of that, I wish I had cash to order a pizza and scare some poor delivery guy with how attractive I look right now. I have avoided talking to myself today, trying to keep my voice functional for tomorrow. I really am not looking forward to hauling my zombie carcass around to be there. I wish I had a self propelled thing of some kind, something that uses a system of pulleys and bungee cords. Just splat my zombie self against the side of a nearby building. I will peel off and not even notice if a few parts are left behind. Likely I never really needed them anyway. I’m really tired of my nose, eyes and lungs right now.

Happy Day out there, remember to wash your hands, avoid zombies – we are out there.

Indie Bloggers Challenge #5

Indie Bloggers 300 words regarding:

To be mean, you shave your neighbor’s monkey. It gets a cold and dies. You get arrested for animal abuse and go to prison for three years. On your first day in jail, as you walk into general assembly, the crowd goes completely silent. They part like a wave revealing a shrunken old man who radiates a merciless, palpable evil. He looks at you and says “Finally.”

I killed the last monkey. The owners had tried to hide it as an exotic pet, monkeys had been outlawed. But I was the best monkey slayer. I tracked down that screeching shrunken hideous creature and disposed of it. Well, I shaved it first. You have to make sure it’s not just some really ugly, really small human or alien. All that genetic research has left us with some really whacked out human-like creatures.

I was sent to jail. It was a formality for killing a pet. Technically it was an animal still, the laws had not been changed yet. I was set to serve three years but the laws were all going to be rewritten the next day so I’d be out by the end of the week. I was looking forward to spending all that reward money.

I walked into prison, a crowd gave me silent homage as the last great monkey slayer. I nodded at their show of respect.

“Finally… someone got rid of that damned monkey. Bless you, now I’m free!” The old man hissed. He sunk down into the floor almost seeming to be sucked through it. His eyes rolled back in his head and he just, vanished. Melodramatic.

I kind of laughed. “Well, at least he didn’t make a mess.” Everybody snickered then. After all, he was a mean old evil minion of monkey.

We had the party then. It was deluxe. Darwin’s books were burned on gigantic bonfires. I did find one monkey hair on the pizza but I just kept it as good luck.

Best of all, we had finally won the war against the monkeys. Now, no one could deny man did not come from apes!

The next day the cult of the chicken began.

I Wish to Order Pizza and Cake

Pizza with a nice crust (not one of those thin ones that tastes like a stick) and chicken and loads of vegetables on it. A really steaming hot pizza with mozarella cheese.

I really need to find a job… I have so many great ways to spend money it’s just nonsense to be working so hard at not spending it. Unfair to my mental health.

Now, back to that pizza. Light on the sauce and high on the gooey cheese and chunky vegetables not cooked into an unrecognizable mush of veggie-ness. Mmmmm I want to taste it now. I even know how to order it online and I even still have enough cash in my purse to pay for it when it gets here.

Of course, I’d have to actually get dressed today. I’m so lazy… I should make myself clean the floors as punishment. They do need to be cleaned. Too bad the last maid disappeared, most likely one of the dust bunnies got her. Poor kid.

Chicken Dressed as Mutton

I know I’m not really human now. If I were human, rather than alien or robot or… something, I would be bursting open at the seams by now. I was really hungry, I’ve been trying to not eat much for a couple of weeks. But today I ordered pizza. I ate it too. I don’t know how that much pizza is inside of me and yet I don’t feel disgustingly full and bloated. I feel fine. I don’t feel hungry, that’s a nice change. But, no mortal should eat that much pizza and not explode. Just call me Pizza Grrl.

I put chicken on it. I’ve never liked pepperoni really. The chicken was good. Maybe that’s why I’m not feeling stuffed. The chicken was lighter than pepperoni which does not come from a bird creature. Therefor it can not fly. Chickens don’t really fly much but the option is there. I’m sure it all makes sense somehow. After all, I can’t really be an alien. I still have all that old paperwork from the US immigration, I think. Besides, I was born here. My Mother said so. So I shouldn’t be an alien as long as I’m still in Canada.

Maybe I should update my passport just to be on the safe side. In case someone realizes I’m an alien and tries to deport me. Where do aliens get deported if they were never from the planet to begin with?

There’s a question for the day. I’m not all that keen on any of the other planets and the moon is just too chilly looking. I’d like something with a little beach, water and maybe a forest off in the moutain area. Of course, I want something with a good Internet connection too. I’m sure someone will work it all out. Last slice of pizza to whoever comes up with a good plan for cosmic alien deportation!