Tuesday, December 21, 2004

Peanut Butter and The Wrong Shoes

There was a peanut butter-related fiasco at our house last night. One of such magnitude that Sean proclaimed: "You had better blog this!" (Well, actually, he probably said "You better blog this!" and not "You had better blog this!", but what sounds grammatical in speech and what is grammatical in writing are two very seperate things, mais non?)

Anyway. I digress. It all began when I decided that I would make the peanut butter-loving Sean some No-Bake Peanut Butter cookie things. A co-worker had made them last week, and they were SO VERY FUCKING YUMMY. Like big giant Reeses Peanut Butter Trees (which we all know are vastly superior to plain old "Cups"). No problem--we had all the ingrediants, including a full jar of Better N' Peanut Butter waiting patiently in the cabinet. (Now, I fear I must digress once more. I just googled "Better N' Peanut Butter" so I could include a link, but all I found were pages where fatty boombalatties were complaining that it "wasn't good!" and including "recipes to make it better!" that included such things as FUCKING CREAM CHEESE. HELLLO! TRY COMPROMISING. ADDING CREAM CHEESE RATHER NULLIFIES THE FAT-SAVING QUALITY OF THIS PRODUCT, N'CEST PAS? Shit like that pisses me off. These are the same people who complain that lowfat mayonnaise isn't as good. Or lowfat cheese. Duh. That's because it's lowfat. Live with it. Ok, sorry about that, please carry on.)

SO. I mixed up the ingrediants, only to find that there is obviously some crucial ingrediant contained only within Genuine peanut butter that is missing from Fake, Defatted-Peanut Flour peanut butter. I was mixing a bowl of tan cement. There was no hardening. Just a neverending stickiness. Sean had to come and bail me out with a spatula and a second application of confectioner's sugar.

It was very sticky.

Now see, that wasn't that funny, was it? You really kind of had to be there. Sean has no sense of comic timing.

Speaking of Sean, I have a deep, cold fear in the pit of my stomach that he went to work today in the wrong shoes. We were running a bit late; and he burst into the bathroom, where I was peacefully putting in my contacts, wearing a pair of rusty-tan cordury pants with a sagey-green striped sweater.

In a word, NO.

I sent him to change the offending sweater, being the Designated Rescuer of Sean's Fashion Integrity. Unfortunately, my first suggestion was to replace it with a black turtleneck sweater. This would have been all well and good, but Sean was wearing brown shoes. I quickly changed my suggestion to "the cream fishermans' sweater". But alas, I fear it was too late.

Upon arriving in the bedroom, I found the sagey-green striped sweater discarded on the bed. Whew! Unfortunately, the fishermans' sweater was still in the dresser. And the brown shoes? Nowhere to be found.

We have a fashion emergancy! If anyone sees Sean, please know that the Designated Rescuer of Sean's Fashion Integrity did not, I repeat, NOT approve his sweater-and-shoe-combination choice. Don't fire me. Please. The ponytail is gone, is that not evidence enough of my success???

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