Sunday, June 18, 2006

Keep your hands off the suit, buddy.

Oh my fuck. I have found my house. I will barf if somebody snakes it. Which reminds me, not only did it rain after I washed my car, but I swear somebody goddamn VOMITED frappucino shake all over the side of the car. I step into the Studio Grill for an hour to help Jeremy finalize/edit the move trivia slides, I come out and bam. Thought you'd enjoy my innards on the side of your car. I just wept and let it bake on, what do I care.

Anyway, my house. It is So. Perfect. Huge and spacious and not that anyone much is coming to my wedding, but those that do will be able to fit in the living room! It is just so perfect. I want to marry the kitchen and have its offspring. My hoosier will fit, there is space, a smooth-top cooking range...le sigh. I am trying not to get worked up because it will be 3-4 weeks before we can really offer the down payment, but I wanted to make sure I liked the neighborhood, sue me. If this ends up kicking me in the gut, I only brought it upon myself. But that doesn't mean that if someone buys my house I won't beat the everliving fuck out of them. I mean, come on, it's mine. I admit it needs trees. In the front and on the sides. Big coconut ones on the side to drop big coconut bombs on the annoying fucking dogs that live next door. Then it will be perfect.

And I lied, I never made anything butterscotch. I did double dip some huge strawberries from the farmers market in both milk and white chocolate--it was very Billy & Karmen's wedding. Damn they were good. Good and messy just like the wedding (wow, upon proofing this it occurs to me that I should clarify that the strawberries were good and messy, not the wedding. Though I'm sure that would make a great blog entry as well), only this time I wasn't trying to remain composed while shoveling wet strawberry mess into my face. And I dipped some pretzels, too. Derek has accused me lately of going out of my way to find things to deep fry or dip in chocolate...he may not be completely off base.

Anyhoo, as the chocolate was so much easier to temper this time, it dried beautifully and shiny like it's supposed to. I had one get the fat streaks Fine Cooking talked about, but I ate the fucker and no one was the wiser. Then I made dark chocolate brownies and apparently they are the only brownies Derek has ever liked. I was hella impressed, as I found them vaguely mediocre. But dark and chocolatey, so really, no big loss. I was hoping they might be an addition to the Dessert Table of the wedding (mine), but the ice cream is paramount and who the fuck is going to serve ice cream at a wedding? (Ok, it doesn't count if you have a whole Paciugo shop set up AT your wedding, that would be an exception).

And I figured out how to LINK, how amazing am I.

5 comments:

Mob said...

Best of luck with the house, and with coconut-bombing the neighbor dogs, the house looks cute as hell.

Ellen Aim said...

Thank you! I'm trying to bury all house-thoughts since let's face it, someone's probably optioning the bitch as I type.

Veloute said...

Wow, tempering chocolate! I am so impressed. I am so lazy I don't even bother. I would if I were selling them, I suppose. God, I want things dipped in chocolate. Local strawberries are just about reading for picking but they won't make it as far as dipping. They won't be big anyway.

The house is cute and I hope it's yours. House hunting is such a bitch. That is quite the commute, though. I covet your bathtub.

daveyyojimbo said...

You've got a bitter, bitter sense of humour and I have to say I find it fuck all funny. Derek's done very well for himself. Oh, and by the by, Raising Arizona is a masterpiece of cinematic idiosyncratic lunacy. Sorry, couldn't resist. Hope you get your house.

Ellen Aim said...

Vel: I love the tub, too. I would offer that tub sacrifice if it would be mine. Did I mention it has jets?

Daveyyo: You are too sweet and I'm glad you came here. Now give me your flippin snail mail. And RA totally makes me glaze.