And this one goes out to all my Knoxville peeps...

...because -- speaking of disgustingly gluttonous eating -- nobody over on this side of the continent can truly appreciate the true horrific-ness of this:


Associated Press - Updated 15 hours ago

CHATTANOOGA, Tenn. - A competitive eater who has already triumphed at a famous hot dog eating contest swallowed 103 small hamburgers in 8 minutes Sunday to take home $10,000.

Joey Chestnut, 23, of San Jose, Calif., surpassed the previous record of 97 Krystal burgers -- 2 1/2 inches square -- held by Japan's Takeru Kobayashi, set at last year's Krystal Square Off.



103 Krystal burgers. In 8 minutes. That, my friends, is the definition of gross. Or maybe I mean fantastic. My brain can't even wrap itself around this. Also gross? What Joe Chestnut's turds must have looked like during the bowel movement he inevitably had to suffer through immediately following the collection of his giant $10,000 check.

I would also like to state that this in no way whatsoever means that I have joined the Chestnut camp. Kobayashi is The One True Eating Champion of the Universe, forever and ever, amen. But, damn. 103 Krystals?! My sphincter cringes at the thought.

How to tell if you are the World's Most Evil Viola Teacher Ever.

1. Greatest Print Assistant Ever calls you a Bitch.

2. Ysabel calls you a Heinous Bitch.

3. Store Manager #2 calls you a Bitch Sandwich.

*****

In other news: I am in full-on PMS mode, which, I have found, seems to vary widely in my case from month to month. While I have not been blessed with the Backache of Doom, nor the Instantaneous Crying Jags at Pictures of Baby Animals, I have managed to spend the last 48 hours eating every feasibly-edible thing that has crossed my path, leaving nothing but a barren path of destruction. Day old pizza? Check. Red Robin guacamole & bacon burger with fries? Check. Peanut Butter double stuf Oreos? Check. Large order of Tom Kha Gai soup? Hell yes. Check. Half-eaten chocolate cookie from Star*ucks that I forgot I had put in my purse? Happy surprise! Check. Week old strawberry milkshake that I just remembered I put in the freezer? So gross. Check.

*sigh* Someday, this metabolism of mine will go kaput and my world will become very bleak. Also, my ass will become very large. But until then... off to Panda Express!!!*


* Totally not even kidding. Oy vey.

Ugh.

Why does Sonic insist on airing commercials during every commercial break here tempting us of their milk shakes, tater tots, chili dogs, burgers and countless other delectable food items near and dear to my artery-clogged heart -- when the nearest Sonic is over 150 miles away?!?! Aaargh!!!

Question.

Who in the world goes to meet her boyfriend and some friends at a University District bar on a Friday night, has a cocktail and a Philly cheesesteak and fries, trades fart stories*, heads home around midnight, and along the way stops in at a 24-hour Walgreens to buy some X-14 foaming bathroom cleaner, then arrives home and cleans her bathroom from top to bottom at 1 o'clock in the morning? ...and then blogs about it?!

Oh, right. I DO.



* Mostly centered around Scott.

Das Boot.

After work, Wind Ensemble, and my little new mini-me clarinet student yesterday evening, I decided to drop by a nearby apparel store to see if they had any good deals on tall boots. I have recently decided that I cannot live another day without a fantastic pair of tall boots to add to my wardrobe and now I find myself obsessing about it non-stop. I mean with the autumn season in full swing, how could I not walk around looking fabulous in a wrap dress and stockings with knee-high boots? Seriously. It would be like my Autumnal gift to humanity. Anyway, I thought I had scored when I was at one particular footwear establishment the other day and found a brown pair in my size...at half off! So I excitedly tried it on in their little shoe-stool mirror and thought it felt/looked great. So off I went. And then when I brought it home and looked at myself in the full-length mirror, I realized that it looked full-on retarded because, with my less than supermodel-length legs, the boots actually went past my knees. Ugh. Unacceptable.

So you can imagine my excitement when I was browsing through the shoe department last night and found a pair of black, leather, Franco Sarto boots that not only fit like a glove and covered my entire calf, but stopped right below my knees...but also was on sale for the ridiculous price of $19.99!!! I couldn't believe my luck! Franco Sarto?! These are good shoes! And with that last name, how could I go wrong?? So after I had already gotten my heart set on having these beautiful boots in my closet and begun fantasizing about all the lovely ensembles I could pair them with, I glanced at the price tag again...and saw that it actually said $69.99. Boooooo. Utter devastation.

Also? I had just finished putting all of my extraneous money into a brand-spanking new ING Direct savings account that I had just opened. Money which I am not allowed to touch for the next 2 weeks (That sound you hear is the sound of my father shouting for joy). Yargh. Yeah yeah yeah, it's better of this way, not wasting your money on stuff you don't need, blah blah blah. Did I mention that these boots were fabulous? And that they fit me perfectly?! And that we wants it, precioussssss...? Waaah. Being responsible blows.

A New Project.

So there's this shopping center near our place that has recently added several new establishments to its roster and Scott and I decided to check out some of the new additions this afternoon. Plus, we were low on toothpaste and perilously low on toilet paper, so it only made sense to spend some time there, considering there is also a Target at that location. Yes, that's it. It only made sense. Anyway, we had narrowed our restaurant choices down to three locations:

• Red Robin: Awesome burgers. Messy so I always have to shower afterwards, but tasty nontheless. Don't get the weird pork fajitas, though. They're disgusting.


• The Ram: Standard college pub fare. There's one near the UW that's very popular with the college crowd. The food's decent.


• Stanford's: Never heard of it. Mysteriously non-descript-looking building. Intriguing.

We decided to try this Stanford's place because neither Scott and I had ever heard of it before, and we were feeling bored/adventurous. Long story short: bad idea. I'll explain more later. But as we made our way to Target in Scott's truck after that less-than-satisfactory meal, we both decided that it was a travesty that we are not professional critics on everthing, because we are highly critical of everything and everyone that crosses our paths. Also, we are awesome and everyone should listen to everything we say. In any case, this led me to the realization that I should post more critiques and reviews on my blog. That way, when you are ever unsure of what to think of a particular place, food, tv show, person, etc. you can always say to yourself, "I wonder what Ysabel thinks?" and then you can consult this blog and conform to my opinions as need be. At least you will if you want to be awesome like me. It would be like reviews on Yelp, but not, because I'm too lazy to start a Yelp account, despite the fact that when I'm not blogging, or checking my email for the 98th time that day, or checking Facebook or Myspace, or looking up job listings on Craigslist, I look up everything I can possibly think of on Yelp. It's fun.

Anyway, so you'll be seeing some reviews by Yours Truly on this blog periodically. Unless I completely forget that I even started this whole project, which is not out of the realm of possibility. But just in case, I've constructed my very own personal rating guide. Look there on the sidebar. There it is! Here is a breakdown of the food ratings guide:

FOOD & DRINK

1 Star = Ruby Tuesday

There is a Ruby Tuesday in Knoxville on Kingston Pike. It was not far from Scott's apartment, so we ate there on more than one occasion because it was so damn convenient, and always seemed like a good idea. The thing is, everytime we went, the food sucked. Hard. Bad burgers, bad soup, bad sandwiches, etc etc etc. Why did we keep going back? Because we're stupid and stubborn, and maybe a little bit hopeful. But everytime we went, it sucked worse and worse until, finally, we hit our limit and decided that Ruby Tuesday was the worst thing in the planet ever and I've never been back since. Ten years from now, I will look fondly back on my years in Knoxville...but then my memory will drift towards the precious meals I wasted at Ruby Tuesday and my heart will grow cold and my insides will become filled with bile and venom.

Ruby Tuesday: It sucks. Balls. Hard. Don't ever go there. One star for you!

2 Stars = Best Friend Espresso

Oy. I can't believe I've never spoken about this place before. This is a drive-thru espresso hut that I pass every single day during my drive to and from work. For months and months, I noticed that everytime I drove by it, there was a ridiculously long line of cars waiting in its drive-thru. I always said to myself, "Man, they must make really good lattes!" Especially since, I mean, duh, this is Seattle -- the Land of A Thousand Espresso Huts on Every Street Corner. This place had to be special. But I never stopped to check out their drinks because half the time I was driving past it, I was running late to get to work, and the other half of the time, I was so embittered from being forced to interact with bitchy old piano-teaching hags, that I couldn't seem to drive home fast enough.

Anyway. I just happened to casually mention Best Friend Espresso to Greatest Print Assistant Ever one day, and she was all, "...Ummm, you know why there's always a line there, right?" And I was like, "Uh, no." And then she proceeded to explain to me that this espresso stand makes its baristas dress up in really slutty lingerie tops and short short skirts to attract customers! Like, bikinis and bras and whatever. Not only that, but their service window is on some kind of raised platform so that the girls have to bend over to serve the drinks to the customers. Narf! I object! Well, okay, so I know these places have to be creative to stay competitive, but still.

In an unexpected twist, this bit of information made me even more intrigued because I wanted to check out what all the fuss was with these slutty ho-bags. So one weekend, Scott and I found ourselves driving past this very establishment and, on a lark, I told him to stop so we could get some lattes there. I actually had pretty high expectations as we made our way to the window. I mean, what could possess a (dirty old) man to wait in a line ten cars long that he can't find by doing a simple two-second Google search on the intarwebs? Seriously. I believe my words to Scott as we sidled up to the window were, "They better be really slutty."

Verdict? (cue trombones) Wah wah wah.... 1) The girls were not that attractive. 2) Their outfits, while trashy, were uninspired and not that exciting, to be perfectly honest. 3) I am not convinced that they were not underage high school girls. Ew ew ew. 4) Oh yeah, the espresso was aight.

Best Friend Espresso: Gross. It makes me want to take a shower. But it involves espresso-related drinks, so it gets one notch above the worst rating. Two stars.

3 Stars = Mandarin House

Oh, Mandarin House. How I loved to frequent you in Knoxville. Usually with Ben. Remember this? What can I say? It's standard gorge-yourself-rotten Chinese buffet goodness. It's not dirty, but it's greasy. And oooh so tasty. The service staff was always friendly to me because I was an Asian person living in east Tennessee, and that alone was enough to garner me a warm reception from the hostess everytime I walked in. My favorites: the orange chicken, green beans, hot and sour soup, little macaroon-y cookie things, and the deep fried puffy donut holes rolled in sugar. Ggghlllaaalhllahalalahllll...

Mmm...Mandarin House: Never spectacular but never a disappointment either. I miss you, Mandarin House. Three stars.

4 Stars = Burger Hut

Not long after Scott started classes at the UW, he called me on my phone to tell me that he had just eaten The Greatest Hamburger Ever at this dinky little hole-in-the-wall shack on University Ave (or "The Av" as all the hip college kids call it. The granola-eating hippie equivalent of "The Strip" at UT, except with way more incense and hemp).

After hearing him go on and on at length about the amazing-ness of this burger, I proceeded to roll my eyes (He couldn't tell on the other end. Ha!) and assume that he was just exaggerating. After all, how much different could this be to any other burger, right? Oh, how foolish I was. Scott was speaking of thier Burger Hut Special. I briefly mentioned it here. It is simply a delicious fresh-grilled burger with a special sauce and a blanket of scrambled eggs inside. Never had egg in your burger? I pity you. It is fantastic.

Also, this tiny establishment seems to be run by a Cambodian family. That's my guess, anyway, and my Asian-determinator-radar is usually pretty accurate. I guess I could just ask next time. Anyway, a great little hamburger joint run by a small bunch of quiet but friendly Cambodian men? Awesome.

Burger Hut: You offer simplicity and awesome-ness. I've never ordered anything but your Burger Hut Special, but that's okay. I'm sure everything else is equally delicious. Also, I am not convinced that you do not mix in a little bit of crack in your special sauce because you have made Scott and I totally addicted. Damn you. No wait. I mean, Damn! You! ...are awesome! Four Stars!

4.5 Stars = Wasabi

Every couple of days or so, either Scott or I will look at the other one with sad eyes and then when the other person asks what's wrong, the reply comes out: "I miss Wasabi." Imagine Benihana's. But BETTER. And so much cheaper, damnit. The best teppan-yaki Japanese grill place everrr. In the whole universe. And it was so close to Scott's apartment in Knoxville. Hear that, Ruby Tuesday? Wasabi is what you could never even dream to be!!! The teppan-yaki chefs were always nice and the food was incredible. I chose to celebrate my 26th birthday there, in fact. Too bad I didn't post about it. Hmph. Their House Soup is a delicious broth that has every scrumptious thing under the sun in it: seafood, vegetables, chicken, Ultra-Super-Gloriousness. I recommend ordering their Samurai Dinner. Ribeye steak, shrimp and chicken, all masterfully grilled before your very eyes and served with grilled vegetables and fried rice. And that orange-colored sauce that they serve with it? Sweet Lord in Heaven, it's f*ing delicious. And then they top everything off with these sweet grilled carrots that are so goddamn tasty. Scott hated them (silly boy), so that always meant that I got a double serving. Mmm. Oh God, I have to stop or I'll start crying.

Anyway, we have been in search of a replacement-Wasabi since we moved here and it has been a fruitless search to say the least. We tried this one Japanese steakhouse near our apartment that actually was recommended to me by my predecessor at my current job. The prices were comparable, but the quality of food was waaay sub-par. Plus the building looked like it used to be a brothel. And it smelled like it, too. We also went to Benihana's in downtown Seattle when we first moved here. Well, it's Benihana's so the food was decent, but still. Did not compare to Wasabi. Where were my sweet grilled carrots? Where was my beloved orange-colored mystery sauce of goodness? Where is my House Soup, goddamnit?! Ugh. I distinctly remember our bill coming close to $100. Unacceptable. In the Land of Japanese Teppan Yaki, Wasabi REIGNS SUPREME!

Wasabi: I love you. I yearn for you. Scott says you should be tied for 5 stars. But I had to make a choice and since you are, well, now naught but a fond twinkle in my distant memory, you came out just ever so slightly below the top of the rating chart. Sigh. Four point five stars.

5 Stars = Salty's Brunch Buffet

Do I really have to explain this one? If I do, you have not been paying attention, and for that you should be punished. By eating at Ruby Tuesday. Hahaha. No really. I wrote about it here, here, here, here, here, here and here.

Need more proof of my love for the Salty's Weekend Brunch Buffet? I suggested to my family that they come up here for Thanksgiving this year. Because I miss them so. But maybe mostly because I wanted us all to do the Salty's Brunch Buffet in lieu of the traditional Thanksgiving dinner. Too bad they didn't bite. Oh well.

Salty's Brunch Buffet: You know I'm your botch. I would do anything for you. Dirty, nasty things that would involve me taking a trip to the confessional afterward. Just kidding. But seriously. You are a glutton's dream. Since I am a glutton, you are my dream come true. Five stars.

The End.

Anyway, to review Stanford's: The food was way overpriced, Scott's burger was way overdone, my Steak & Cheddar sandwich was not just meh, but also contained Swiss cheese instead of cheddar. Bizarre. Also, their water tasted like it came out of a garden hose. If I had to point out any positives, I can say that the cup of coffee I got was decent, as was the calamari appetizer we shared. Hardly enough to redeem itself, however. At least Scott and I now know never to eat here again. I mean, we could give it another shot but I have a bad feeling we would just be reliving the whole Ruby Tuesday fiasco all over again. And how appropriate would it have been had I gone with my original rating of a Ruby Tuesday? Because that's what I was going to give it. But then I gave it a second look-see and realized that I couldn't give it a Ruby Tuesday just yet. We haven't tried too much of the menu yet (not that I think we're going to ever again, anyway) plus, like I said, the coffee and calamari were not so disgusting.

RATING: Stanford's at Northgate Mall gets a Best Friend Espresso. Two Stars, but only because I am having an uncommon moment of weakess. I must be PMS-ing.

A breakdown of the customer service ratings guide to follow...

Speaking of confessionals...

There's been a can of diet Coke sitting in one of (un?)Lucky's cupholders for one week. I opened it on Monday and had a few sips. And then placed it back in its cupholder, where it sat for the next five days. And then I had a couple more sips a few hours ago as I drove to Jack in the Crack to quench a late night milkshake craving that both Scott and I had.

Is that disgusting? Yes, I know, I know...YES. But to be fair, it's cold and rainy season here already, and the inside of (un?)Lucky is now a perpetual refrigerator...right? I mean, as long as I'm not driving, anyway.

...okay, there's no justifying it. Hey, we all have skeletons in our closet. Anyway, time for bed.

T.G.I.Saturday

I've finally noticed my appetite starting to perk up again the last day or so. I've been eating essentially one meal a day for the last couple of weeks. This was due in part to the fact that I have the bad habit of always choosing an extra 15 minutes of sleep over breakfast and also not eating at work. Too busy fighting off the urge to strangle 70-year old piano teachers with my bare hands. Also, I have been too busy eating my own phlegm while suffering from the Annual Black Plague (see below). But I am going to take this renewed sense of hunger as a good sign that I am getting back into good health. Hooray.

Agh, there's a lot to post about. Nothing terribly exciting or dramatic (i.e. entertaining). Just the standard run-of-the-mill banality that you've come to know and love from this blog. Like how Scott and I have a new addition to the family (No, not that, doy. That would involve a trip to the nearby confessional and then, subsequently, like twenty zillion Hail Marys.). I'll show you later. And how I have grand plans to take shower #2, then grab a Star*ucks latte and head over to Chez Target later today. OMG. I just creamed myself just thinking about it. I now understand Scott's burning passion for college football Saturdays, because I have come to realize that it is the equivalent of my Star*ucks Target Saturdays. Although this makes me sad that I have no girlfriends/sister/mother/Daddy #1 nearby with which to share in this glorious weekly activity. *sigh* Why can't you all move to Seattle already? Geez.

Anyway, I'm too lazy to go into any detail right now. Must commence stuffing my face with pizza and breadsticks on the couch while watching Alabama beat the poo out of Tennessee. Boooo. Only sipping a Star*ucks Soy Pumpkin Spice Latte while strolling through the aisles of Target can remedy this.

Annual Black Plague: Part 1

Well, the much-dreaded black plague has made its all too triumphant return, mainly in the form of endless amounts of goo taking up residence inside my skull and sliming its way into every possible orifice in my head. The best (worst) part is the un-relenting post nasal drip that forces me to ***WARNING THIS IS DISGUSTING*** swallow my own snot repeatedly every thirty seconds (sorry). Also, I am going through obscene amounts of Kleenex trying to force whatever goo I can out of my tender little nose. The good news is that the goo is still clear and not yellow or green (ew), meaning that I have no sort of sinus infection yet. I think. That's what Wikipedia told me, anyway. It is, however, starting to do that thing where your ears pop everytime you blow your nose. Not good.

What is good, though, is that this Friday is payday (whee!) and I will have a valid excuse to go to Target (wheeee!) and buy some more Kleenex (wheeeeee!!). And perhaps a French Press. Mmm...French Press. And a tea kettle. Definitely need a tea kettle. Oh, and some bathtub cleaner...

Oh, and I have a new student this Thursday. Beginner, eleven years old. Huzzah! Although, I just got an email from the mother this morning informing me that her daughter is already thinking about changing to flute because that's what her friend is playing. Harumph. How could I lose a student already before I even had her?! Bah humbug! I must turn on my a-game at her lesson and convince the little girl that the devil stick rules all. Flute? Pfffft.

And one more thing: you know what I hate? When you blow your nose and you hear all this nasty stuff getting blown out of your sinuses and it sounds all juicy and gross, but when you look at the Kleenex afterwards, it's completely dry! I mean, I want a giant nasty slimy mess up in there so that I can feel a sense of accomplishment, like I am excorsizing the mucousy evil away from my body! Ech.

For my sister.

A few days ago my sister's dog, Rebecca, passed away after eleven years of being the entire family's adopted doggy-woggy. Aside from my cat, Buddy, otherwise known as Greatest Cat In the History of the World Ever Even Though Bela Comes a Close Second, and my brief but well-loved pet rat, Buster (I've never spoken of him. His story is too tragic. Perhaps another time.), Rebecca is the only pet my family has had since moving to the US. As a puppy, she saw Kristina through life as a college student at UC Davis and living with a couple of other college girls while dating her then-boyfriend Greg, to becoming a microbiologist at UC Davis and living with (gasp!) her then-boyfriend Greg, to becoming engaged to her then-fiance Greg, and becoming a newly-wed in Sacramento to her now-husband Greg. Eventually, the years saw Rebecca adjusting to life as the family pooch to a young family that all of a sudden included a little miniature hairless creature called Kat, and, eventually, less than two years ago, another little miniature hairless creature called Vanessa.

Becca was the perfect family dog. She never barked, except when somebody she didn't recognize came up to the front door. But when that did happen, her bark was so ferocious it would scare even the most fervent Jehovah's Witness straight over next-door to the next home of non-believers. Also? She had this giant lump atop her noggin. I don't know what it was -- a bone? A second brain? Who knows? But I loved petting her giant lump and calling her Lumpy Head. Kristina found it to be offensive, but I think Becca loved it. I loved it. It was, how do you say? ...Our thing. And she didn't doggie-fart...that often. At least not too much around me. And when she did, she never displayed any shame. It was always accompanied by the slight raise of her brow and a look that said, "*sigh* Yeah? What?" Every now and then she'd take a vacation and go stay at the grandparents' house in Santa Rosa where, although my dad would initially feign slight disapproval at having a big heavy furball crashing at the pad, Rebecca would nevertheless be guaranteed meal after meal of home-cooked Filipino leftovers and, inevitably, go back home to Kristina and Greg a good five pounds heavier than when she left.

Sometimes I would go visit Kristina and Greg and, after the first two or three days straight of raiding their entire kitchen from top to bottom, I would feel bloated and disgusting and as I sat on their couch with my feet propped up on their coffee table, one hand clutching the remote while watching the Food Network or HGTV, and the other hand slowly rubbing my distended belly, I'd glance over at Rebecca and she'd look back at me and we'd both kind of say to each other, "Methinks it's time for a walk." Then I'd go to the garage to pick up her leash and roughly 1/1oth of a second later, Becca would be at my side, leash firmly in the clutch of her jaws and me practically shoved halfway out the door. And then the following half hour would see me struggling to keep up in my high-heeled boots (fabulous!) while this German Shepherd mix dragged me all over the neighborhood, stopping only to smell...well, every single goddamn flower, weed, blade of grass, giant turd, etc. that she came across on the sidewalk. Upon returning to Kristina and Greg's house, Becca would be panting happily, I'd be a second away from passing out, and we'd both reward ourselves for a job well done: she with a couple of doggie biscuits and me with whatever cookie, pie, cake or tupperware of leftovers I somehow overlooked before the impromptu workout. And then I'd pet her lumpy head.

And while I'm sure that she was a little freaked out by the arrival of the first little miniature hairless creature, she never became malicious towards Kat. Not with the overly-aggressive petting, or the playful ear or tail pulling, or all the other well-meant, albeit horrifying, displays of affection that only a little toddler could offer. As my father (fake) begrudgingly took Rebecca in a few times ("*sigh* I guess she can stay......squeeee!"), I'm sure Rebecca (fake) begrudgingly welcomed it when the second little miniature hairless creature came to stay ("*sigh* Oy, now I have to watch over another one?! Yeesh.").

As I told my sister, eleven years is a great run for a big dog like Rebecca. And she picked a good stretch of time to spend with our family. When she was a puppy, we were all still kids really. Going to school, unsure of what we were going to be, still asking the parents for money. Now my sister has a great job, drives a fabulous red Volvo and has a fantastic family. My brothers are both computer geniuses making the big bucks working for tech companies and the government. And I'm...unsure of what I'm going to be and still asking the parents for money. ...Oh wait. Goddamnit!

Anyway, Becca, you were a great dog and we will all miss you. Say hi to Buddy for me.

I'm sure this scene re-enacted itself up in the ether somewhere.

Becca: Hey Buddy!

Buddy: Oh, it's you.....again.

Not for the faint of heart.

This one goes out to my brother-in-law, Greg, who apparently found my previous post to be way laaame. Oh, you didn't understand that I was conveying the inner complexities of the dichotomies between the male and female psyche as illustrated through the differences in how we spend quality time at Chez Target? Well, for that, you get the following anecdote:

So I've been sick the last couple of days. At first I woke up with a horrible sore throat, accompanied by this constant disgusting film in my mouth that just won't go away, and a quite literal un-willingness of my body to remove itself from the confines of my bed. And then it turned into The Greatest Quantity of Mucous and Bile Ever to Fit Inside One Head.* And theeen - are you paying attention, Greg? 'Cause here's the punchline! -- I got the stomach-ache of stomach-aches (you know, the one that signals a coming of really really bad, unfortunate things to come), went to the bathroom and did my business, and when I looked at the result of the previous 5-10 minutes of That Unpleasantness of Which I Must Not Speak In Literal Terms Because I Am A Dainty Little Lady, I saw that I had somehow produced a white porcelain bowl of SESAME SEEDS. Like, sesame seeds! Who in the hell poops out actual whole sesame seeds??!! And it wasn't like they were seeds, um, imbedded into you-know-what. It was like, there was the usual you-know-what (albeit not quite it's usual firm self, a little bit more free-form, if you will)...and then bam! Emeril came by and threw in a handful of sesame seeds.

I literally stood there for like 30 seconds in complete awe/shock/wonder/disgust staring at my wonderful horrible creation because I could not for the life of me remember having eaten one sesame seed -- not to mention an entire lot of them -- in the last several days. I was like, did my bowels create sesame seeds inside me? What the hell?! ...And then I remembered that I had eaten a burger from Jack-in-the-Crack earlier that day (sesame seeds in the bun), which Scott had purchased for me the night before, but which I had not eaten because my stomach didn't feel up to it. And then I decided it would be a good idea to nuke the burger the next day and eat it because I didn't have the energy to get anything else to eat. And if you think about it, how much more appropriate could that possibly be, because, as it would turn out, it did cause something jacked to come out of my crack. Ha.

Is that better, Greg? Never mock my posts again.

ps. I should also say that Greatest Print Assistant Ever truly lived up to her unofficial title these last couple of days while I was at home wallowing in self-pity as she did more than her fair share of keeping this hell-hole in complete working order. I owe her like 10 bottles of whisky and a bucket of cookies, I think. Speaking of this hell-hole -- time for me to leave it and go guzzle some more Nyquil. And, for my mother, some Xango :)


* Not really. Last year was much worse. Remember this? And this? And this? But the winter season is young, so they say. I'm sure the annual black plague will hit me at some point in the next couple of months. Plus, it felt crappy all the same.

Men are from Mars and Women are from Target.

Scenario: Ysabel any time she goes to Target with Scott

Ys: Okay, let's see...we need toilet paper and toothpaste.

Scott: Alright...

Ys: Oh, and we need some candles!

Scott: Okay.

(cut to candle aisle)

Ys: Ooh, do you like this smell?

Scott: Sure.

Ys: What about this one?

Scott: Sure.

Ys: Ooh, this one's nice...

Scott: *sigh* I'm going to look at the video games. Come get me when you're done...


Scenario Two: Ysabel at a Target somewhere between Tacoma and Seattle with two of her friends last night

(looking at Nalgene water bottles)

Ys: Yeah, I totally ruined my last three water bottles in the dishwasher...

Girlfriend one: I have one that looks like this one.

Ys: That's cute, but I don't like the whole sippy spout thing. I just want a normal cap you screw off...

Girlfriend two: What about this one?

Ys: Ooh, I kind of like that one...but I don't like that baby blue color. ...Ooh, this one's cool!

Girlfriend one: Oh! I like that one too!

Ys: Oh, then here. Take this one.

Girlfriend one: No! I'm not going to take it! You should have it!

Ys: No! You take it! I'll just look at the other Target near my house...

Girlfriend two: Well, if you guys don't take it, then I'm going to.

Girlfriend one: Here, you take it.

Girlfriend two: But Ysabel was the one that said she needed one!

Ys: It's okay! I promise! I'll just get one somewhere else!

Girlfriend one: No way. You should take it. I'll take the baby blue one.

Ys: Don't take the blue one, it's ugly. Just take this one.

Girlfriend one: No, I like the blue one! I promise! You can have this one.

Ys: No, I don't want it now! You take it!

(twenty minutes later in the soap aisle)

Ys: I love the smell of Irish Spring!

Girlfriend one: Yeah, me too! What do you think of this body wash?

Ys: Ooh, that's nice!

Girlfriend two: I like that too! How about this one?

Girlfriend one: Mmm! That's really clean-smelling.

Ys: Yeah, really fresh and crisp. It's really nice.

Girlfriend one: This one's okay...

Ys: Ooh, it's coconut-y. I'm not sure I like that too much.

Girlfriend one: Yeah.

Girlfriend two: Ooh, you guys! Smell this one!

Ys: It smells like the gum I have in my car!

Girlfriend one: Fruity! Yummm!

Ys: Melon-y!

Girlfriend one: Yeah!

(ten minutes later)

Ys: Oooh, I used this one this summer. It's really cheap but it smells good.

Girlfriend two: Oh really? Maybe I'll try that one.

Ys: I really love men's soaps. I think it smells cleaner.

Girlfriend one: You use men's soap? That's cool! Maybe I should try that...

Ys: Oh, this one smells really good too.

Girlfriend two: That is nice! ...but it's more expensive.

Ys: Yeah...

Girlfriend one: Ew! This smells gross!

Ys: Oh yeah! Yuck!

Girlfriend one: It's totally deceiving 'cause the bottle looks really cute, but it totally does not smell good.

Girlfriend two: Yeah, that's weird! ...Oh wow. This one smells like a grandpa.

Girlfriend one: Haha! Oh my god, it totally does!

(ten minutes later)

Ys: Well, I think I'm gonna get this one...what do you think?

Girlfriend two: I like that one. Which one should I get?

Ys: You should get the same one!

Girlfriend two: You think so? How about this one?

(ten minutes later)

Girlfriend one: Okay, I think I'm gonna get this one. What do you guys think?

Ys: Good choice. That smells really nice.

Girlfriend two: Which one should I get?

Ys: I love the smell of this one. You should get this one.

Girlfriend one: I like that smell too!

Girlfriend two: Me too!

Girlfriend one: Oh wait. It says "3 times as clean." What if that means it makes your skin really dry?

Ys: That's why I'm obsessed with lotion...

Girlfriend one: Oh, I should get some lotion!

Girlfriend two: Ooh, me too! Let's go look at the lotions.

Girlfriend one: And shampoos!

Ys: Okay!