anagramofbrat: (green things)
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I love the local farmers market scene around here. (There is definitely a locavore "scene." It's a little hipstery and a little too full of people who say "gluten-free" a little too often, but the food is good so I put up with it.) It's gotten to the point where I'm enough of a regular at the Amherst one that some of the vendors know my face and ask how my veggies are doing.

The best thing I ever brought home from one is definitely the Kiss of Cassis black currant cordial from Bug Hill Farm. (you can order some online. I highly recommend you do.) Mix it with lemonade or honey tea and OMG. Even better if you swap out the lemon juice for some Mikes hard lemonade or lemon schnapps and you have something delicious and yummy.
anagramofbrat: (sexytime!)
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All information is worth having, and more is always better than less. Though apparently they haven't retired that awful 80s sex ed cartoon they showed us when I was a kid - while I was visiting Alé we traded stories of being traumatized by the rubber duckie that ducked under the bubbles in the lady's bath to check out her naked bits. Eww.

But no seriously? I'd rather kids get armed with more information than go into sexual experimentation ignorant.
anagramofbrat: (Default)
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Fuck 3D.

Directors cut, okay I can deal with that. They're often better than theatrical releases. Rereleasing a movie just because there's been some new advance in computery whizzbang? No. LOOKING AT YOU LUCAS AND SPIELBERG.
anagramofbrat: (Default)
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Thankfully I've pretty much weaned myself off of fast food for the most part, though that just may be not living in McDonalds-on-every-damn-corner NYC anymore. Mostly it's too much like work to drive to one these days, lol. Yes, I'm mostly off fast food because I'm lazy, how silly is that.

Mostly off, I say. When I'm having a REALLY bad day I'll make the effort to go, in which case my choices are McDonalds, Burger King and Wendy's. McDonalds, my order is usually x amount of McNuggets (I love those things, I really do, its sick) and a vanilla shake, though it irks me that I have to loudly specify that I do not want whipped cream or a cherry in it; I am not a fan of McD's fancying up their shit. Burger King - whopper or whopper Jr, no onion, heavy pickle, fries, and also a vanilla shake, since theirs tend to be pretty good. Wendy's I'm not a huge fan of, but I will usually be very happy with a large salty fries and a chocolate Frosty on the occasions I go. To be eaten together of course. Their chicken nuggets are also quite with the tasty.

All that said, if they ever open a 5 Guys here closer than Westfield, I will be in a colossal amoungt
I will say, with the chronic tummy trouble and just being aware of how much crap I stuff down the hole, I'm quite happy with the small or value sizes of everything. After a certain amount it all gets rather gross, so I'd rather stop before that happens, you know? Also I do not have the digestion I did when I was 17. I was rather brutally reminded of this when Stanley ordered me a large root beer float from Sonic last weekend... they ain't playing, that thing was big enough to swim in.
anagramofbrat: (squee)
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I've got a few. I tend to prefer actresses that look like they've actually grown into and lived in their faces. I guess my go-to is the lovely lady in my icon though. Close second being either Angela Bassett or Michelle Pfeiffer.
anagramofbrat: (no more caffeine for you)
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Dogs tend to lock me up in terror when I first meet them. Too many years living with a badly managed German Shepherd as a small child. I'm usually okay once they prove themselves not likely to eat my head, and I've had many dogs in my life that I was crazy about. But my initial reaction to strange ones is fear paralysis and a repeated mantra of "oh god don't eat me oh god don't eat me"
anagramofbrat: (what is love?)
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For not having gotten my license until age 30, a significant portion of my childhood was spent in the car with Mom, from back when i was a wee bit stapped into the torture devices that passed as the first five-point car seats to a little kid passed out in the massive backseat of her land barge of a 1983 Cadillac, to finally moving up to the front seat and serving as her copilot on trips until i went off to college.

To say that Mom loved to drive is an understatement and an oversimplification. Looking back, most of my memories of her being relaxed, calm and even happy are when she was behind the wheel, letting the hum of highway under tires soothe the anxieties that constantly plagued her. It was only later when i got licensed myself (later in life and in fact, at the same age she did) that i understood her constant, well, drive to be in the car, and the near zen-like state of mind she entered after about half an hour on the road. Years later, it's become one of my more effective self-soothing behaviors, especially over long distances. I also seemed to have learned more of my pervasive driving habits from her by osmosis, seeing as while i didn't get my license until well after her death, i still catch myself copying them. Good in the defensive driving sense, bad in the family lead foot and sudden explosions of dockworker profanity at other drivers' jackassoirie senses. I swear, all my Mom's pretenses of being a perfect lady died when the key slid into the ignition, which is probably why while i knew better than to repeat any of it in her earshot, i was swearing competently and creatively by the fourth grade.

As to where we went, at the risk of sounding like a car commercial, the destinations never mattered as much as the journeys, or that unique sense of both consternation and relief that occurs after you're back home putting the car in park and preparing to return to real life. But it could have been a run as short as from Brooklyn to Manhattan to get me to school, to NJ to visit my aunt and later my sister, and when i was younger, stretches all the way to Ohio, Virginia, Michigan and Illinois. I seriously remember more of the trips there and back rather than actually being there.

Its funny... She and i certainly had our share of mother/daughter differences to the point where even on days like today i actually feel somewhat guilty for not missing her nearly as much as i feel I should. (Lets me frank, if she were still around she would be micromanaging my wedding to the point of driving me to tears.) On the road, though, is one of the few places where i do. I used to have her picture dangling from my rearview mirror, actually, with the inscription "Never drive faster than your guardian angel can fly" on the back. Figure I've been her primary passenger for so many years... she'd return the favor if she could. (Backseat driving the entire way.)

Happy Mothers' Day, those of you who observe it.
anagramofbrat: (Default)
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I'd get someone to blowtorch the gremlins out of my brain wiring. I'd be a fucking superhero if it weren't for the attention and mood issues. Well okay, not a superhero, but a bit closer to that whole responsible adult thing there everyone aspires to, if not quite achieves.

As for changing things in the past... eh. Sure I have things I regret, but if I go back and change them I also undo anything I learned from those experiences, sucky though they may have been. Plus I'm in a pretty good place, life-wise, and I got here through a chain of happy accidents, both good and bad. I don't really want to go back and bust the chain, you know?

Yay it's Friday or something.
anagramofbrat: (Default)
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Man, I miss getting handwritten anything. [livejournal.com profile] extrajoker and i used to do handwritten all the time. I still occasionally get stuff from [livejournal.com profile] aisha7576, but I've gotten to be such a horrid correspondant that I never write back. But I do miss the exchange. I keep meaning to invest in a roll of postcard stamps and just randomly dash off a stack of things for people I have addresses for one day... maybe I'll do that soon?
anagramofbrat: (Default)
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So many quarters were wasted playing Pac-Man and Ms. Pac-Man. SO MANY. I'm rather glad I didn't find the classic arcade museum room at PAX until Sunday right before they shut down, because my con money would have gotten all spent right there.
anagramofbrat: (TV)
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I never did get the appeal of the Stooges. Cartoon logic doesn't really work in live action, no matter how many sound effects you dump into the soundtrack.

In terms of classic B&W comedy I'm more of a Lucy, Marx Bros or a Honeymooners sort of girl. I like my silly to have a point and maybe a story.
anagramofbrat: (Default)
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Actual relationships that lasted more than a month and went somewhere? Six.

Which reminds, me, I'm out of blow-pops. :D
anagramofbrat: (Default)
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Dogs by default make me very nervous unless i know them already, and then i tend to find the constant attention seeking and drooling more irritating than endearing. Cats have a different style of personal space invasion that i'm more comfortable with. And they don't drool.
anagramofbrat: (green things)
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Hiding, honestly. MA is like KISS ME I'M IRISH WHOOOOOOO epicenter between Boston being Boston and the 2nd biggest St. Pat's parade in the country happening a couple of towns south. Hopefully it'll mean a quiet day with the kids, some corned beef brisket later (yum!) and after the kids go to bed something thick and sweet containing a whole lot of Duggan's Irish Creme.

I did most of my "celebrating" by putting on Flogging Molly, Dropkick Murphys and Solas at the store. Because nothing sells iPads like some rowdy folk yelling about going to Boston to find a randomly missing wooden leg right?

Seriously, though, I'd make some crack about DO I FUCKING LOOK IRISH but the truth it there is likely some back there for all I really know. Not enough to excuse drinking a Shamrock Shake by choice though, much as whatever Native American I know for sure is mixed up back there doesn't legitimize me doing whatever Generokee crap is fun and popular at the moment. I mean, could you imagine a First Nations/Native American Day? It'd be nothing but war bonnets, eagle feathers and fringe fucking EVERYWHERE and people would be UNCOMFORTABLE.

So um yeah. Not really so much with the Green Holiday.

As an aside, MY BROTHERS, MY SWEET NERDS OF COLOR. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, BUY ANOTHER GREEN T-SHIRT. I mean, it's embarrassing enough that y'all even wear green today, but cool as the idea of an army of John Stewarts is, it just looks like all y'all showed up at the prom wearing the same dress. COME ON.
anagramofbrat: (om nom nom)
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Give me all your Samoas and no one gets hurt.
anagramofbrat: (stab you)
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This question bothers me on so many levels.
anagramofbrat: (ORLY? (Hex))
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I think it's a side effect of living in this crazy Valley and on the internet that my definition of "strange" has been shoved as far as its outer limits can go. Seriously, it's been a VERY long time since anything anyone has confessed to me has shocked or surprised me. I've had all manner of confessions of being something other than human, either presently or in other lives, one particularly memorable terror of ending up being a child molester (in retrospect, interesting choice of people to tell THAT to), fascinatingly dirty deeds (done dirt cheap), a completely serious willingness to commit murder or other crimes, etc etc. Certainly underscores my own conscious decision to stay in the gray in terms of morality and convictions, because all of these are from people I would neither consider bad nor even particularly weird, but again, my definitions of those are also pushed about to the boundary, so ymmv.
anagramofbrat: (brat)
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I'm pretty good with my name now. I hated it when I was a kid though. It had a weird spelling, people had to specify my gender when talking about me, other people's assumptions that it was short for something, or on occasion (and quite maddening) their temptation to put an accent grave on at least one of my Es. Oh and the E problem. There are five Es in my full name and that was just too many. Besides the two on my first name, there's one tacked onto my last, dooming me to a future of administrative annoyance ("We can't find you in the system." "It's 'Browne' with an e at the end." "Oh, there you are.") but there are two smack in the middle of my middle name too. I spelled Rasheeda with an I instead for most of my childhood in protest. Oddly enough it never occurred to me to change it, and I eventually made my peace with it.

Later in life I learned that Andee was indeed short for something, though it didn't make it onto my birth certificate - it's a contraction of Angela and Dierdre, two friends of my birth mother's. And "Rasheeda" was indeed supposed to be spelled with an I, but it got misspelled when my certificate was redone. 10 year old me would have been SO pissed.

These days about the only change to my name I'm considering is what'll happen when [livejournal.com profile] cell23 and I get married. The plan is to keep all of it and hyphenate [livejournal.com profile] cell23's onto it, kind of in keeping with how my sisters all dealt with theirs. Also my initials would end up being an anagram of BRAT, which is just so fucking apropos I can't stand it. I suppose in terms of getting this whole wedding thing over and done with I wish I had THAT name, lol.
anagramofbrat: (Default)
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Snowstorm and wishing 30 Rock's version of it were real. At least the leap day William and "nothing you do on Feb 29th counts" bits. I could use a day where my irresponsibilities are absolved, lol. Actually, no, I could use a week of that, honestly.
anagramofbrat: (Default)
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for an individual tooth? $20. But before you start boggling, keep in mind that it works out to $.50 for the tooth itself, $19.50 because I had it forcibly yanked out of my head by an extraction-happy pediatric dentist who has singlehandedly given me a deep rooted and lifelong phobia of dentists. Asshat is still practicing too.

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