Sluts Are People Too!

OK, so I've officially decided on my first MUST-SEE in Vegas next week. I was glancing listlessly through some brochures last night, waiting semi-patiently for my damn husband to show up so we could dive into some tacos, when what did my wondering eyes light upon??

The Precious Slut Tattoo Company.

Now THERE'S a phrase that just makes you happy every damn time you manage to work it into casual conversation. I've managed to use it in context at least half a dozen times already, and if at all possible, I'm going to swing by there are get me a Precious Slut tattoo, just so I can spend the rest of my life saying, "You like that tat? Yeah, I got that at the Precious Slut."

I may even loosen the ol' pursestrings and hook myself up with one of their T-Shirts:

Because sluts ARE people too, dammit.

In other news, I had me a hankering for some corn tortillas yesterday, but didn't feel like driving twenty minutes to town to acquire some. So I started surfing for some recipes. And guess what? Every single recipe seemed to call for something called Masa Harina, which, I am sad to say, is not exactly part of our food culture here in the frozen north. So what's a tortilla-lovin' slut to do? Several websites advised me that Masa Harina is damn special stuff, and CANNOT be replaced by corn meal or corn flour.

OH YEAH???? OH YEAH??? Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, Unnamed Websites! I will be the FIRST PERSON to ever successfully make tortillas without your precious Masa Harina.

AND GUESS WHAT????

Holy shit, that just didn't work, people.

I gave up and ate soup for supper.

I think the Recipe Development fairy has jumped off my shoulder and fucked off somewhere, because I can't seem to create anything new to safe my life. I was working on some super healthy, extra- whole-grain-ey fruit muffins the day before, and although they looked fairly edible, they had the texture of a Nerf football and were about as flavorful as a plate full of grass clippings. I think I might spread them around the perimeter of my basement and perhaps thin the vermin population a tad.

And finally, an Anonymous comment that I got recently had me feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. (Usually the anonymous ones are the folks who want to be discrete when they tell me just how badly I suck.)

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"Your blog keeps getting better and better! Your older articles are not as good as newer ones you have a lot more creativity and originality now keep it up!"

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Ok, assuming that the comment wasn't left by my Mom, I really appreciate that, dear sweet Anonymous Commenter. If you were here, I'd bake you a pie or help you trim your nose hair, because that's what friends are for.

And if it was my Mom, well, gee whiz Mom, you're damn special, if I do say so my damn self. Keep it comin'!

Peace....