The Magic Fruit

I decided my mission for the week was to learn to cook beans. (As in dried pulses and legumes, rather than green, string, or broad variety, cos a) how hard is boiling water and creating steam really and b) the Tall Guy don't like em).
Why the sudden need to cook beans? It strikes me as one of those pioneery women things to do. I'm all about the budget conscious, living like my Nana, hippy chic lifestyle, dontcha know. Plus, I'm trying to avoid doing any work on my thesis.
Buzzing with that odd combination of virtue and guilt I get when I try to avoid doing something Really Important by doing something Really Healthy, I took myself to the library to research. This is of course after I Googled 'How to Cook Beans', and saw a dozen odd entries all reporting that I should soak them, then cook them. Or cook them, then soak them. Soak overnight. Soak in hot water. Soak in cold water. Add some random seaweed. Discard the water. Save the water for geraniums. Use the water in porridge. Wash my hair in the water, then soak the beans. I was confuzzled. Plus, I like books. So library ho.



Apparently either no-one has ever written the book "The Real Facts on Cooking Beans for Confuzzled People", or there are a stack load of Pioneery Budgeteering Nana Hippy Chic confuzzled maidens out there who had become bean curious before me, for I found no such book.


What I did find was the Star Trek Cookbook. And the Desperate Housewives Cookbook. And the Friends Cookbook. (Actually, that one I'm kinda intrigued by, I want to know if it features the Shepherd's Pie Trifle that Rachel made, cos I have some people I'd like to serve that one up to. )
I'm not sure why it strikes me as so random that people would want to eat things they have seen others eating on TV, because really, that's the advertising world in a nutshell.


Other things at the library that possibly only I would find amusing? The fact that the sexual health section lies right next to the public health section, so that in the 'Oversized Books' shelf, 'The Joy of Gay Sex' lies right next to 'Not Just One Little Prick' (a tome on mass immunisation). Tee hee.

Minty Fresh

Grow mint, they said. It's the easiest pot plant in the world, they said. You can put it in tea and yoghurt and vietnamese rice paper rolls and juleps, they said. NO-ONE can kill mint, they said.

They lied.

We are not even going to discuss the basil.

Annoying thing of the week....

'Built-in bra'.
What I hear -
"Hey! Look! I'm a cute little strappy top, but don't worry! I come with underwiring and hooks and eyelets and space age stretchy stuff, and I'm going to lift and separate, without extra straps showing at your shoulders!"
The reality -
"Hahaa! I fooled you! I'm actually a weird ass flap of fabric with a band of thick elastic wrapping around your rib cage. I'm going to sit so low and tight that I end up transecting your liver, while you enjoy how attractive a mono-boob can be! I'll create random indentations along your torso! You're going to spend all day adjusting me as I slip up and down, and everyone will see the straps of the real bra you're going to have to wear, so you gotta coordinate too! And, just for kicks, I'm going to get stuck when you try to take me off, so you have to hop around with your shirt pulled over your head in the gym changing room!"


Or is that just me?

Memo to self -

- Coffee tastes better if you add water to your cup after the kettle has boiled, not before.
- Once you have achieved the crucial boiling process, the kettle then goes back onto the hob. It is not instead placed in the fridge, and certainly does not go on top of a packet of pre-sliced honey smoked deli ham.
- I thought you weren't eating non-freerange ham anyway, what's that doing in there?
- Twilight is really a fairly crappy book, and did not merit you staying up until 4.30am to finish it. Now you have a cup of cold gritty coffee, and a singed packet of battery farmed ham. Get more sleep.

Bite Me, Doc.

I like to think I have a reasonable cage-side manner. I talk in a soothing voice. I handle my patients gently, distract them with yummy treats and belly rubs, and use lots and lots of happy drugs.
But then, you see, I am a vet. And, besides the fact that I genuinely like animals, and like being able to talk to them and give them belly rubs, my patients Bite.
If I stomped into the room, slammed the door behind them, chucked them onto a cold table, poked the sore bit and plunged a needle into it, I would get Bitten. And I would deserve it too.
I think more of us need to bite doctors, to teach them some manners. (Although I'll pass on the belly rub).

Fim Noir

I think there is only one video store clerk in the world.
Every time I walk in the door, I glance nervously at the counter, hoping that this time there will be someone different there. A pimply faced school-kid. A mumsy type in a flowery dress. A skin-head with a face full of metal and tattoos. I got lucky last time, and came in to find a sleepy Rasta on duty - I squeaked for joy, and instantly grabbed handfuls of rom-coms and feel good flicks. But my luck was shortlived, and this time, its him. Lounging behind the counter, watching 'Dr Strangelove', grungily sexy in his op shop castaways and battered fedora. Damn it!
I grudgingly pick out 'Last Year at Marienbad' and 'Dogville'. I waver for a moment over 'Once': I really want to see it, but despite it initially being shown at a film festival, it was later released in mainstream cinema, so no, it goes back on the shelf. My relaxing night in has just turned into another enlightening evening of the intricacies of Danish cinematography. I wish I could get what I really need to numb my mind and soothe my weary soul, but I can’t face the look of scorn that would appear if I offered up 'Love Actually'.
I hand over my selection, knowing that this time I’m safe.
"There’s a $16 late charge on your account for 'The Jane Austen Book Club', 'PS, I Love You', and '27 Dresses'. Do you want to pay that now?"

Bad Apple

I hate weight watchers. I was raised on the idea that if you were hungry, you should eat a piece of fruit to tide you over to the next meal. (I was also raised on the clean your plate, bread is evil, and god doesn't like fat kids idea, but that's a whole nuther story). But in weight watchers, fruit carries points. Yoghurt carries even more. And god forbid you even look sideways at a piece of whole-grain bread, lest it smite thee.
I accept the idea of accountability. I relish the idea of balance and moderation. But I can't get over the concept of evil fruit.