At the risk of Beth forever barring me from Smart Bitches Day, I had to share with you a free online game, Rose & Camellia, which will at the very least put you romance authors in the mood to write. (What? You mean your muse isn’t titillated by a rollicking good cat fight?)
First, the setup:
Newly wed to Shunsuke, eldest son of the historied Tsubakikoji family, Reiko suffers the loss of her husband the very next day. Under the cruel and unceasing mockery of the aristocrats, Reiko’s common-born blood sets to boil. Clutching the rose Shunsuke gave her to her bosom, Reiko issues a defiant challenge to the house. “I am the widow of the eldest son of the Tsubakikoji family. This house is mine!” …This is the elegant art of feminine conflict.
I made it past Saora, but eldest daughter Shizuka pwned my ass (or, erm, face) in three slaps. And boss monster Lady Hanae Tsubakikoji is one scary looking biyotch:
This wouldn’t be an SBD without some bitching. Where’s the romance? There ought to be a male cousin, some broad-chested bloke who looks just like a Japanese Fabio. This fellow happens upon the scene once you take out the Lady Hanae . . . and if you manage to bitch-slap him into submission, he swoons and tells you that no woman before you has ever earned his respect.
Of course, since he’s a cad who just tried bitch-slapping you into submission, you (A) force him to wear a CB-3000 and (B) initiate him into the ancient Japanese art of orgasm denial. (Um, those links? NSFW, boys and girls.)
D.
From June 30, 2008:
Amazing how much his voice has changed in the last year.
He’s still a great kid, by the way.
D.
Despite the presence of a number of questions both pending and weighty, life is settling into something of a routine; I’m able to sleep at least seven hours each night, my total commute time is about 15 minutes, and work thus far is shaping up to be more than satisfactory. The muse should wake up any time now, right? Right?
I wonder if she’s awake but not letting on. Maybe I have to try to write something to see if she’s still there. Hellooooo!
Hard to believe I used to entertain myself by writing. Nowadays, I have to resort to YouTube parodies of the old Star Trek.
But nothing compares to the real thing, eh? I bring you CAPTAIN KIRK, SPACE QUEEN!
See, this is how the writers thought Kirk would behave if he had a woman inside of him. The director must have told Shatner to pull out all the stops on this one. I can imagine Shatner: “What’s my motivation?” and the director: “You’re a woman! Trapped! Inside a man’s body!”
Gotta go. Ferret Bueller’s being a pain in the tush again.
D.
Over at Daily Kos, they’re having a name-a-thon for the C-Street house which serves as base-of-operations for the uber creepy Christian cult, The Family, host of John Ensign, Mark Sanford, and heaven only knows how many other Republican miscreants. My favorite new name for The Family’s C-Street abode: The Elephants’ Boneyard (kudos to DKos user ceratotherium). There are other good ones, but I won’t spoil the fun of the search for you.
It’s satisfying to watch The Family wallow in all of this bad press. Ever since I read Jeff Sharlet’s essay for Harper’s, “Jesus Plus Nothing” (accessible online), I’ve worried about these flakes.
Elephants’ Boneyard . . . snicker.
D.
With my new gym membership came two free hours with the trainer. Tonight was my second hour; Tuesday, she measured my body fat (pinch testing) and did a variety of tests to get a sense of my strengths and weaknesses. Today, she simply worked the crap out of me. The sweat was pouring off of me and my tee-shirt got drenched. Amazing, since all I did was crunch and lunge and do stuff with big rubber balls. We didn’t touch a single weight machine.
Now I need to decide whether to pop for more workout sessions now that my freebies are all used up. It’s like those first few fixes of H to get ya hooked. Yes, I want to, because this gal got me working and stretching and shvitzing like no one else. And she claims she can get me to where I can touch my toes! Yes, that’s one of my big goals in life: to be able to touch my toes.
A flat stomach would be nice, too.
And now I’m going to lie down and moan for a bit.
D.
PS: Saw my first few patients today! As usual, the damn computer is the toughest part of the whole thing. Same software, but Southern California Kaiser has tweaked it differently than Northern Cal. It’ll take some getting used to.
The mercury hit 113 F this afternoon*. Ooof.
I’ve been checking out the local ethnic markets. I found a decent Asian market and also a good Indian market. From the Indian market, I couldn’t resist this box of Kat-a-Kat Curry Mix:
In case you’re having trouble reading it, the box says, “Mix for stir fried chops, brain, heart & kidneys,” and the back of the box does indeed say, “Easy to cook. Hard to resist!”
You can buy it here, and they have a recipe, too, which calls for (among other things) 2 goat kidneys, 1 goat heart, 2 goat brains, and 3 mutton chops. I guess you’re out of luck if you only have one goat to slaughter — either that, or you’ll have to do with less brains. Sigh.
I’m going to make the Wimp’s Version, which substitutes chicken thighs for . . . well, for everything. Thighs aren’t too challenging. I’ll boil some potatoes and add those in, and we can pretend they’re brains.
I’ll keep you posted.
D.
*According to Karen, formally, the temps are checked in the shade. So it only maxed out at around 104 today. Does it make any sense to check it in the shade, when we drive, walk, etc. under the beating sun?
We’re staying in temporary housing while we wait for this house deal to go through escrow. It’s a good-sized apartment, about 1000 square feet, with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, living room/dining room, kitchen with a gas range and granite counter tops, and a washer and dryer. Oh, and it’s furnished, too! Everything we could ask for (and now, with INTERNET!)
But the kitchen is a bit lean. I had to buy a cutting board today, and I have so far resisted the temptation to buy a decent butcher knife since we own two (at least) (but they’re both packed). I’ve had to restock the kitchen with staples, which I never seem to do in a logical fashion.
So . . . I wanted to make that rhubarb crisp dessert I told you about the other week (click on the food category if you missed it), this time with peaches and nectarines and rhubarb. But I forgot that I needed corn starch. Worse, the recipe calls for flour, and I only had oatmeal. And matzo meal. So I used matzo meal instead of flour*, and I left out the corn starch; I reduced the water to 1/2 cup and crossed my fingers.
I had the usual thought at this point. Maybe I’ve discovered a new recipe! Maybe everyone will talk about my amazing matzo meal fruit crisp!
I took the first taste, and I didn’t think it was bad at all. Nothing incredible. Not a recipe that will go viral. So I gave some to Karen and Jake, and soon realized that I had failed to take into account The Matzo Effect: if you’re Jewish, everything tastes better with matzo. That’s just the way it is. But it only works if you’re Jewish.
Two big fehs from Karen and Jake. They both tasted a spoonful, and both had strawberry ice cream for dessert.
I can’t quite bring myself to throw it out. I like it, but I shouldn’t eat this stuff — I’m kind of dieting. And exercising. But I’m still fat. Fat! FAT.
Fat.
D.
*Turns out I had indeed bought flour, but put it in the freezer to keep it fresh . . . and then forgot about it. I’d outsmarted myself.
I thought about writing some sort of “pros and cons of B-field” post, but honestly, I don’t know the town well enough yet. My list thus far:
Pro: We’re getting used to global warming way before our pals back in the Pacific Northwest.
Con: By the time they experience global warming, we’ll look like Raisinettes.
Pro: Thanks to the heat, women show a lot more skin here in B-field.
Con: Thanks to the heat, women show a lot more skin here in B-field.
Yeah, that’s all I have. That and Chinese chicken salad. This stuff . . .
Or is it this version?
More below the cut.