Really?

I just read the tag in my underwear.

100% cotton. (Good.)
Machine wash warm (Only wash in cold, too bad).
Wash colors separately. (Natch).
Use only non-chlorine bleach. (Don't use bleach, use OxyClean).
Tumble dry low (I use the energy saver setting, don't know what that is).
Remove promptly. (Yeah, right, I leave things in the dryer for days.)
Medium iron (COME AGAIN??????)

Medium iron as in ironing board?

Seriously, who irons their underwear?

Probably the same people who iron their sheets.

Or people who do all their ironing in one day.

That is, seriously insane people.

Awesome New Music

I had to call this post "awesome new music" because my friend Annie laughed at me because that's what I called the newest playlist on my ipod.

There is nothing that makes me happier than discovering a new song that I fall headlong in love with.

I have discovered Jason Mraz. I know, I know, he had a grammy nomination for record of the year. Who cares? I don't watch the grammys.

This guy is absolutely incredible.

I am completely addicted to Geek in the Pink, I'm Yours, but especially, Butterfly, which has to be the cutest euphemism I ever heard for.... well, watch the video, you'll figure it out.

I am attempting to embed the youtube video of a live version of Butterfly, which I can't live without.

Give it a look and a listen, you can thank me later.

Girl Scout Cookies

This time of year it is impossible to avoid Girl Scout cookies, dammit! Everybody at work has some to sell, if not, they want to share them with you.

When you are trying to avoid carbs the last things you want to see is those damn Girl Scout cookies.

It's hard enough to get through the holidays, then, just when you think you are home free, they drag you back in.

I can usually pass all of them up except Samoas. I know, I know, they don't call them Samoas anymore. They call them Caramel De-lites. I can assure you that there is nothing "light" about them.

Samoas are the crack cocaine of cookies.

I found out how to make them on the internet. (How I love the internet, you can find anything you want to know on there, also a lot of things you never wanted to see ever).

They basically start with a shortbread cookie. So already you're talking about a lot of butter and sugar.

Then they take caramels, coconut, and chocolate, carb-laden sugar bombs all, melt them, and pile them on top of the shortbread cookie.

I am surprised that they don't sell these things in dark alleys.

Thank goodness the Girl Scout drive is almost over. Of course, now that I have the recipe....

Cooking

Okay, I am officially giving up on beef stew.

I've made it twice now and both times it has been a disaster.

I spent yesterday running errands and cooking. I made gravy (for any non-Italians, that's tomato sauce), ricotta pie, and beef stew. Only the beef stew was a disaster.

I think the problem is that I have some romantic idea of beef stew and of myself making beef stew. I envision myself creating the perfect beef stew, you know that Dinty Moore kind of beef stew (only without all the chemicals and preservatives). There I am in the kitchen, the original Earth Mother, compentent, all-knowing, tossing in ingredients with joyous abandon and producing perfection. You know, that deep dark gravy that you need to sop up with bread and butter (mmmm....).

But that's not what I get.

I think the problem yesterday was too much water and really bad wine.

I spent a good hour at the store picking out some wine for cooking and for drinking. I was looking for a burgundy but all they had was huge jugs of burgundy. Basically I was looking for something not worth drinking but worth cooking with. Big mistake. If you are going to cook with it, you better want to drink it.

My first clue that it was going to be bad was that it was called El Toro and it had a little plastic bull attached to it, which I swear I didn't notice in the store. Now you know a wine is going to be bad if it has it's own plastic toy attached. Kind of like the happy meal of wine.

I tasted it and didn't like but, oh no, I still dumped it in the crockpot.

The first beef stew was too salty because I didn't dilute the canned beef stock enough. This time I diluted it too much.

After hours of cooking I had a soupy mess and you could still taste that damn wine.

Someday I am going to produce that romantic vision of stew I have in my head. Meaty, fragrant, with dark flavorful gravy, the kind of stew given to starving orphans in Dickensian novels, either that or I am going to the store for Dinty Moore.