Things Aren't Always So Easy...

So it's been a few days and they're still staying with us, which isn't so bad because they don't really have personalities that rub you raw or anything, but... There are a few problems. Like the fact that we're down to the last roll of toilet paper, or that we bought more than enough food but somehow there are only five days worth of it left... See what I'm saying? Not to mention that tea doesn't last even a day around here anymore, where before it at least lasted a couple... And the dishes, sweet jegus, the dishes...

It's kinda frustrating, especially with this lack of jobage over here. I sent in applications, but without a phone, I can't really know if anyone called, because the Hedgehog can't always answer his, and if they wanted me to come in for an interview, then he couldn't run home to tell me... *sigh*

Check Out This Cake!

So I've been hard at work on the Oh Bento! comic this weekend and all of today... Some funny stuff has happened, but honestly? The Hedgehog is funny so often that it's hard to pick something that he does and do a post about it... not to mention a lot of it is weird humor you just have to be there for it. Some of it is even hard to remember afterwards, no matter how hard I laughed at the time... So, instead... Here's something I worked hard on for the webcomic for you guys to enjoy.

Dynamite In A Biscuit

"French food: it's dynamite in a biscuit." -  The Blonde One

I AM HAPPY CHEESE!

The other night the Hedgehog and I were eating grapes and cheese and watching In The Name of The King... While he wasn't looking I took the tip of the knife and carved this happy face into a chunk of cheese... Then turned and shoved it in his face while yelling, "I AM HAPPY CHEESE!"

Butter Dean

It’s a well known fact around our apartment that Paula Dean scares me.

I'm Paula Dean, ya'll!

On television there’s nothing wrong with the Butter lady, except maybe her addiction to butter.

Come on, people! She makes cakes that call for two and half cups of butter, and puts at least two tablespoons in everything! She has something called Gooey Butter Cake that is essentially a pile of buttery pudding that used to be cake mix! That isn't to say her food probably doesn't taste good, and I'm sure it does, and I don't hate her as a person, it's just that, well... her face is terrifying.

I mean, I’ve been made fun of in the past for being like her; it’s the curse of being a southern cook. Making veggies? Tablespoon of butter. Making rice? Two tablespoons. Making a grilled cheese? Butter for the pan and some Duke's mayonaise on the inside for flavor. Making a homemade cake? Melted butter for that. Making my famous cookies? Well, I use oil and honey... Frying eggs? Okay, I use olive oil.

I've got some confused DNA...

Hey, I’m part Italian, too. (And Irish and Romani and Native American and Swedish and German…)

"All this cake took was two cups of butter and your soul."

Anyway, Paula seems like she’s a nice lady on tv, but her magazines all have her with these perfectly white, straight, teeth and these wide pale blue eyes; the result is a set of soul stealing eyes and teeth that look set to rend your flesh from their very bones. I die a little inside every time I look at her that way; and I know she doesn’t look that way,  because if you catch a picture of her when her face is too far back, you can see that she has normal blue eyes, and on her cookware you can even see normal colored teeth that are slightly crooked in the front and natural.

Butter face terries me. Sorry guys, I’ll come up with a butter pun next time. Pfft…

Moving right along… Last night I made veggies for dinner, and the Hedgehog said, “Alright now, Paula  Dean.” Well, when I went to reply back to him, I accidently called her “Butter Dean”… Not one to let me live anything down (he certainly never let me live down “fub” or “bake-ed”), the Hedgehog informed me that my new nickname was Butter Dean.

I promptly died.

And then he made butter puns for the next ten minutes, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him for this.

"You'll change your mind once I butter you up."

Today: Taco Kit

Having the nickname of Kit can be hilarious: every time you go out, you see something or another kit. Well, from now on, every Wednesday on my blog, I will have a picture of me being whatever that is.

This week?

Your argument is invalid, I am a taco.

Taco Kit.

Fub Your Macaroni!

A while back the Hedgehog bought a crap load of macaroni to make some sort of tuna/egg salad thing with… Well, we were running low on food this week, but we had Italian dressing and balsamic vinegar, so I thought I could make cheap pasta salad, sans all the tasty stuff I like to add in like tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese, boiled egg, olives, peas, bell peppers… bacon.

The huge box of macaroni made a huge pot full… it was way more than it looked like… The Hedgehog has pointed out that “it’s dried pasta, it gets bigger when hydrated” but at the time I simply didn’t think about… Should’ve known better, but I didn’t…

Now he won’t let me live down the huge pot of vinegary pasta in the fridge.

 

I informed him, “Congrats. You and your damned pasta make it in the blog.”

Oh! I said a while back that the Hedgehog didn’t know about the blog because I was keeping it from him so I could vent and not hurt his feelings, but he found out… I’m horrible at keeping secrets from him, at least my own secrets. I keep other peoples secrets for years, but not my own… He was fine with it, he said the only reason he wasn’t angry was because the pictures helped. See, I told you my pictures help! Besides, how would I have hidden the sudden $200 if Google had given it to me?

I Obviously Have Anger Problems.

I AM AN ANGRY BURRITO!

 Something strange and inevitable happens every time the Hedgehog leaves me for an extended amount of time. AKA: any time longer than work hours, provided that during that time I haven't had anything to keep my mind occupied from how bored and lonely and fubbing hungry I am!

Pictured here: boredom.

It's still cold in the apartment, the neighbors are assholes who yell all day, I barely got any sleep at all because I can't sleep without my eejit, and we haven't gone grocery shopping so I've been saving the food until he gets home so we can both eat dinner. Except, we won't both eat dinner, because he's been out with his family all day, and he's probably already eaten... except if I eat the food then he'll probably come home and wonder where it is...

Oh, gods! What do I do?!

It's stupid and silly, and I don't know why it happens, but I always wind up angry at him the day the Hedgehog is set to come home. Something inside me gets all tense and upset, and nothing I can do will make it stop. Why am I so mad? I have no idea. But I know when he comes through that door I'll be tense and snappy and uppity with him, and he'll want to know what's wrong with me.

And you know what? I won't know. I've spent most of the day sitting around being bored or playing on the internet, trying to keep busy and distracted, with only his return to look forward to... but the longer I wait the less excited I feel and the more angry I get. I don't know why, it just happens. If I could explain it then maybe it wouldn't bother me so much...

... He has no idea that I'm trying to ignore him...

Instead of being happy I'll just get short with him, and instead of snuggling up to him, I'll roll away and be angry silently while he lays there and plays his dammed video games.... but you know what? I'll sleep peacefully.

GUESS WHAT?!

I was so busy posting other things I forgot to say the most important thing!

This is obviously not that fox.

The other day me and the Hedgehog saw a fox on the way back from Wal-Mart when I got new shoes with my pay!

Adventures in Shopping

Getting groceries is always an ordeal for the Hedgehog and I. It begins with a series of very important questions:

Do we have the money?
Do we need something else more?
Can we make it a couple more days?
When do we both have the same day off?
What's the weather like outside?
Do we have the time?

And it's all because we don't have a car. Not that it would matter much since I never learned to drive. When your dad installs carpet for a living and his hours range anywhere from 6am to 2am, and your school has a driver's ed program that kicks you out of it if you miss a single day, there is simply no compromise.

Wal-mart is an hour's walk away from the apartment, and thanks to the Hedgehog's hours, he being practically the only one who closes the store, Wal-mart is our only real option... which limits our options on groceries.

We can't get anything breakable,  or crushable, or smashable. We can't get anything too heavy. We can't get anything frozen, or that needs to be kept refrigerated. We're limited only to what we can carry. Sure, there for a while we had the time in the day to go to a closer place, back before the Hedgehog learned to close the store, and there's always this one convenience store to get milk, eggs, and bread at; but who knows when either of us will have the time and money to go there?

And sometimes we put it off for so long that we need a lot of groceries, and of course we can't carry them all back... which is what prompted us one night to steal a buggy.

The idea was brewing in our minds when we entered Wal-mart that evening, as we loaded up the buggy with the things we needed. Almost all of it was frozen. That was how we both knew that the other knew we were walking away with that buggy. Piled on top of itself, the frozen food would keep itself cold, and it was near freezing outside, anyway.

The more food we got, the more determined I got. There was no way we were going to be able to carry it all, even though I'd brought a huge bag to carry it back in on our backs. When the cashier rang us up, I bit my lip and steeled my resolve. I was going to be walking home with a buggy full of food at 2am, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

When we walked out, I couldn't help but inform the Hedgehog, "I'm leaving with the buggy."

Out of my peripheral, I felt him look at me. "Ok." was his reply, but I kept talking, "I'm leaving with this buggy, I'm walking away." He motioned to a car on the far end of the parking  lot, in the darkness, a car that always sat there. "Just walk to the car." I nodded quickly, "Right, because they won't know that's not our car."

And when we finally left the parking lot, it seemed to hit the Hedgehog what we had done, and he was a small child. "Can I ride on the back of it!?"

And he did.