Category: Epic fail

A public apology to the Gator Nation

It’s all my fault.  I knew I was taking a risk by changing from the blue long-sleeve t-shirt to the grey short-sleeve t-shirt.  You see, I’ve consistently worn the blue shirt, and the Florida Gators have consistently won since the beginning of the season.

Last Saturday I changed my shirt; last Saturday the Gators lost. Craptastically lost.

I fully admit that this loss is directly related to one woman (me), a couple thousand miles away, who’s not exactly a fan, changing from one Florida Gator T-shirt to another.

For this, you have my deepest regret and apology.

Better luck next week, boys.

Go Gators.

game day

Um, Welcome Back, Charlotte…? Or… Huh???

After the traumatic loss of Charlotte the spider, I was astonished to make my way out to the car a few days ago and find this remarkably familiar spider hanging out on the side mirror.

Charlotte? Is that you?

OMG! You didn’t die!

Ok, but here’s the weird part: After that awesome reassurance that I hadn’t let our spider friend plunge to her death on Roosevelt Road, I haven’t seen her since.

Was it her ghost? Or perhaps she is alive and was calling on me to stick out her spider tongue and say, “Ha! I lived and now I found a better place to reside than your stinkin’ side mirror!”

I’m now fairly confident that Charlotte is either in a better abode, or stuck in some sort of spider purgatory where she can occasionally come by and stick it to me.

Either way, I’m satisfied.

So long, Charlotte.

For the past month, there’s been a spider living in the side mirror.

After about a week, she earned a name, Charlotte (naturally).

She grew larger and spun intricate webs.  Sometimes she would enjoy a breezy ride down Lake Shore Drive in the mornings.  Other times she would hang out in the mirror, only to reappear days later.  Yesterday as I was driving with the window down she managed to get inside the car, and, thinking we were tight I placed her on my pen to coax her back to the mirror.  With two inches to go, Charlotte feel off my pen and I haven’t seen her since.

Ok, so I got attached to a spider.  Whatever.

I can just only hope that she’s in a better side mirror now.

So, so long, Charlotte, wherever you are.

Epic baking fail

As much as I enjoy that you believe me to be the queen of domesticity (…because, you do, right???), today I’m zero for two.

Here you see that I’ve overstuffed my slightly-smaller-than-standard loaf pan this morning with a delicious cranberry bread for Thanksgiving.  The lovely char smell now resonating through the house from the globs on the bottom of the stove are making me feel real good about myself.  I guess we’ll just have to eat this one ourselves and make another for “company”.  In spite of this miserable failure, this IS a great recipe:

Lauren’s Mom’s Cranberry Bread

Ingredients:

2 C. flour

1 C. sugar

1/2 tsp. each of baking powder, baking soda, and salt

3/4 C. orange juice

2 TB melted butter

1 C. cranberries (frozen, halved, and seeds rinsed out)

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350-deg F.  Mix all dry ingredients together in a large bowl. Add orange juice to melted butter and add to dry ingredients until well incorporated. Fold in cranberries (add chopped walnuts to batter, if desired). Turn into prepared loaf pan and bake at 350-deg F for 60 minutes. This loaf freezes really well.

Add to this failure my previous pat of on the back in processing our jack-o-lantern to make canned pumpkin for homemade breads and pies.  Apparently, the work schedule these days isn’t as conducive to pumpkin processing as it once was, and my brilliant idea to store the roasted inners at room temperature would (five days later) present itself as fermented, white-ish pumpkin goo.  I’ll spare you photo documentation of this, and instead offer you the plan B for “homemade” pumpkin pie.

Ode to the Vending Machine


Dear vending machine,

I think it’s time that we called it quits. It’s not you; it’s me. We just aren’t meant for one another. I thought maybe we could just be friends, but really, I think it’s best if we make it a clean break. Please do not call or write. I’m not good for you, and clearly you are not good for me. I’d prefer it if you left the building entirely, but it seems as though we are going to have to learn to work together as professionals and not as partners. I hope that this doesn’t cause you as much pain as it causes me.

Kind regards,
Lauren