The Weekly Kit: Gingerbread Kit

I'm a cookie!

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!"

Bonus Kit: Hot Chocolate Kit

... Not sure if this is appropriate, cause... you know... I'm naked...

My Drunken Post

Well, tonight me and the Hedgehog finally celebrate my 21st birthday… by making drinks from the Drunken Moogle. Come on, I mean, video game inspired drinks? And us being huge ass nerds? Hells yeah we’re gonna drink video game inspired cocktails! If I’m drinking it’s gonna be that!

We tried the Anti-Sora drink… The Hedgehog liked it, but I hate grape, so… And there was this Gears of War drink with Cheerwine… but there was too much vodka… It was way too bitter.

The Pokemon drinks are awesome, though. The Squirtle shot was intense, but coconuty afterwards, and the Wartortle was… Yummy.

So far I’m feeling pretty good, not too fuzzy in the head. We’re watching Troy, only I keep sprouting all sorts of mythology. Curse you mythology class and my own paganism and love of mythology! Curse you and my now fuzzy arms!

Okay, so I’m starting to feel a little weird now… I’ve drank alcohol before, and I can honestly say: I like the warmth, I hate the way it makes my body feel. The first time I drank anything my dad offered me some cheap red wine. That stuff tasted like what it was: rotten grapes and moldy old bread. I had some pink champagne when my cousin got married, too… it was bitter. On my 18th birthday me and Jess split a bottle of Smirnoff, and another time we drank Mike’s Hard Lemonade. I didn’t finish all mine, and when I went home the next day the Girl-Fiend spiked it with vodka and I finished it. I got past giggly and all the way to sits-there-and-stares. That was when my dad was in jail.

Another time me and Lulu split a six pack of mango stuff. She had to make me drink a second bottle because apparently when I start drinking I don’t like to keep drinking. It makes my chest feel uncomfortable and my uterus gets all hot and angry, then my jaws feel funny… Finally I’ll feel normal, but that’s only after I get buzzed, and then I still feel kinda odd in my muscles. Oh! And on Thanksgiving last year I drank a little too, the Girl-Fiend made me do it. Spiked my drink.



Well, apparently I’m okay enough to type. So…

Seriously. I Have The Best Boyfriend. Ever.

So when the Hedgehog came home, he looked like he was preggers, and told me to turn around. So I did. Then he told me to cover my eyes, so I did… then he said to put my head in a pillow… so I did. It took him a bit, but finally I was allowed to turn around, and when I did he had a cake in one hand and a giant Simba plush in the other. Also, he had a new book: The Red Pyramid.

Once, I told him this story about how when I was two I had this baby Simba plush that I loved to death; I carried it everywhere, and then one day I left it over at my dad’s boss lady’s house because she used to watch me while he worked, and I never got it back. See, dad quit his job and went to work with the lady’s husband. The fact the Hedgehog remembered this story and brought me the plush just… it…

Made me the happiest Kit ever.

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."

I Am Traffic Cone!

I dare you to hit me. I. AM. TRAFFIC CONE!

Today me and the Hedgehog decided we would walk all the way to Wal-Mart because he was bored and I had stayed up all night and needed physical exercise to make it 'till bedtime; it's something we do pretty often, but don't think  much of. Well, it was raining, and this definitely made a difference.

Thing is, it wasn't raining that hard when we left, so I only wore a hoodie and took along my obnoxious orange poncho in my pouch; halfway there the heavens opened up and so much rain issued forth I was soaked before the poncho went on; for the rest of the day my attitude changed: I hate being wet, particularly cold and wet. When we walked down the side of the road, I silently defied every single car to run me over, thinking to myself, "Bitch better recognize. I AM traffic cone!"

Every time they successfully made it past me, while I was still glaring defiantly at their vehicles, I would smirk to myself and think, "Pfft, that's what I thought... bitch." This isn't the first time a decidedly ghetto temper has made it's way into my actions; and no, before you go thinking I mean ghetto like black person, think to yourself about every person you've ever seen come from a tough neighborhood, no matter their race. There's a certain accent and manner you acquire... I had that manner, the attitude, and the accent; and it happens a lot when I get mad.

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.

Super Late Post

Alright, so a few posts back,  on mine and the Hedgehog’s anniversary, I mentioned that the Alien was coming over. Well, when he showed up that day, we opened the door to this:

That is a box full of turkey and a bag of corn, stuffing, pumpkin muffins, brownies, gravy, and potatoes au gratin. After I put up all of the food, I sat and worked on a blog post while the Alien and my Hedgehog played Yu-Gi-Oh and nerded all over each other.

The Alien told us about how on Skyrim this dragon kept trolling him… flying up behind him and breathing fire on him, then flying away when he turned around to fight it.

Then we went to Wal-Mart and Game Stop and Wal-Mart again, trolling everything in our paths.

While we were in the store, someone put a Domino’s sticker on the driver’s side door of the Alien’s truck. We thought it would be funny  to  leave it, and according to the Alien… it’s still there…

Then we went to Taco Bell and the Alien got the new triple stack steak thing…

What I was expecting... What he got.

Seriously, it came out super huge and wrapped in tin foil, with real steak... dripping cheese.

It was actually a day too hilarious and awesome for words.

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.