Delusion Bread Pudding

I don't want to step into the TV-Criticism territory of my friend over at iamjudgmental.blogspot.com, but recently I've become fairly certain that Bravo is trying to ruin my life, self-esteem, and questionable "intellect."

For example, I was held hostage for a period of 12 hours by something called "Top Chef"- and it wasn't even the most recent season, it was season 3, which was a bajillion years ago. (They're now at Season 8, so my math is a little shaky, obviously)

Yes, I watched that show for the ENTIRE DAY and for some of the night. Was I proud of myself at the end? No. But Top Chef in such lethal quantities did impart me with a lingering affliction- it allowed me to believe that I can cook. This delusion is very dangerous. And it's all Season 3 and All Star contestant Tre's fault.

In Season 3, Apple Bread Pudding was the cause of his demise. Today, it will most likely be the cause of mine. During the "Restaurant Wars" episode, he was all "I can make bread pudding in my sleep," then, he failed. But then, hail the comeback gods! He completely redeemed himself in the All Stars season with this:

It's called Southwestern Bread Pudding. And it's apparently spicy and wonderful. It makes me want to siiiiiing this song:

So then, I decided to make my own Redemption Bread Pudding. With some old chocolate cake and loads of heavy cream. We'll see how it turns out, my cats seem very interested in it which could be a good sign or a very bad one.

I'm hoping this obsession will fizzle out, just like my Project Runway obsession- I know, it's now on Lifetime, but really it should still be on Bravo. (Heidi Klum's voice saying, "You are Out. Auf Wiedersehen," echoed in my head for weeks during that difficult time.)

These delusions don't just apply to Top Chef. Project Runway makes me believe I can sew together two pieces of cloth. The Rachel Zoe makes me believe I have some sanity and that I know the proper use of the word literally and the Real Housewives of BeverlyHillsAtlantaNewJerseyNewYork usually just makes me believe that I have a brain but should get martial-arts lessons to defend myself against potential hair-ripping attacks (that goes for Jersey Shore too).

And the best part? Most of the women/men/children/everyone else on these shows suffer from increidble self-aggrandizing delusions of their own. Kim Zolciak thinks she can sing- that's all I have to say. Time to eat my pudding of delusion.

Its Me Against The Scanner

I'm sinking deeper and deeper into a spiral of depression all because of an evil inanimate object sent to earth by what I can only assume are dastardly extra-terrestrials trying to make my life miserable and prevent me from getting a job.

My Printer/Scanner All In One Contraption, AKA the very bane of my existence.

I'm now in a battle to the death with it. It refuses to work, and I refuse to rest until I have it under my full control.

Let's start at the beginning of this tale. I spent most of my weekend watching this on ABC Family:

And finishing these:

So I thought, today, I'd start tackling all the more adult tasks in my life.  Starting with the evil scanner. I spent an hour looking for the CD to install it, a search which involved me "organising" my documents. This is what ensued:

(The universe sent a marathon session of Keeping up with the Kardashians to my television to distract me from this task. Every second I watch it, my IQ sinks by a couple points- this was surely a ploy to reduce my capabilities in the face of my scanner.)

I found the CD, magically NOT hidden anywhere near my "documents" collection but on my bedside table in full-view. Point one to you, scanner, touche.

Then, the death struggle between us started. It taunted me with its little green flashing lights and its strange noises, which scared my cat into taking his afternoon nap in his carrier, next to his favourite stuffed animal. The scanner refused to do anything.  It's been about three hours that I've been struggling with this evil contraption, and we're at this point in our fight to the death:

And its making me feel like this:

I could give up on this and go to a Printing/Scanning store two blocks away. But it's too late now. I need to vanquish this scanner. It will perhaps take every ounce of energy and intelligence I have, but I will succeed. 

But first, this is very much needed:

Employment Fail

So, I had a job interview yesterday.

It was strange.

I arrived at the building (which, I'm sad to say, was in Washington D.C.). When I arrived at the lobby, the secretary immediately told me to sit down in a chair directly behind me.

When the chair started moving, I realised they'd sat me down in a wheelchair and some hefty man was now pushing me at full-speed through the corridors of an office building, navigating around desks and cubicles. Did I look physically impaired? Or was my laziness so apparent to the world that they figured a time-saving technique would be pushing me around at turbo-speed? I was thoroughly confused.

Heftyheftyhefty parked the chair near a cubicle and I was face to face with my interviewer. She introduced me to her underling, an earnest sliver of a man wearing thick-framed glasses and an immaculately groomed coif.

Then she asked for my resume.

Shit, my resume.

I knew I had it in my bag somewhere...Like a madwoman, I searched through the contents of a knapsack which I then realised was probably not appropriate for a job interview. But the only thing I could find was a stack of embarrassing lady magazines.

"Erm, maybe you could look on your email? I sent it to you." I asked imploringly.

"MMMmmmm...No." She said, emoting her dissatisfaction in one big "Whatthefuckiswrongwithyou" look.

Imagine this look in a human form.

Finally, I found it, folded in one of the many books I'd somehow fit in my bag. (I thought about making a crack about an extendable bag charm as I'd just seen Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows but I though better of it)

She sat me in front of a TV screen to watch one of their on-going projects.

"You've heard of our urban-renewal-wildlife-blah-blah-blah-not-listening-to-the-words-you're-saying project, haven't you?"

"Ohh, of course," I said, realising I had no clue about the images being projected on the screen. First there were lobsters. Then a pile of hay. Then two angry looking dogs chasing after an elephant.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two small children watching eagerly. Somehow, I gathered skinnyeagerassistant was babysitting them for scaryboss. Their commentary was a little distracting:

"Oh my good I can't wait till the dogs catch the elephants....YEAAHHHH!!!!"

I was already struggling to keep my eyes open when a huge blonde blob materialised under my outstretched hand- it was an enormous golden retriever, begging for some affection. (WHAT kind of OFFICE IS THIS? I thought to myself, secretly happy that a canine presence would help keep me awake)

When my cooing and petting became distracting to the pair evaluating me, I focused back on the urbanrenewalwildlife mumbo jumbo.

But...Sosleeepyyyyy..why didn't I drink more caffeine? Would they notice if I took a micronap?
My forehead felt heavy. With horror, I reached up and realised I was still wearing one of those airplane-eye-sheilding things from the night before.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAH! She'd surely noticed. It's not like I could pass it off as a fashion accessory. Or could I? What if I put it back on for a little nap?

Then all of it, the dog-nudging, children blabbering, skinnyasssistant glaring at me, reached a symphonic zenith and suddenly I heard a bell ringing in the distance.

My next-door-neighbor's doorbell. I woke up.

I thought if I gave you a cute picture you'd forgive me for making you read this.

And The Winner Is...

You know how some sites have a prize for the 100th visitor?

Well, this is like that, but BETTER!

I'd like to offer this reward to my FIRST commentator, Anonymous aka Admittedly Harry Potter Obsessed Fanatic!

So I asked myself, what could I possibly do (in a virtual sense) to compensate this brave individual for her heroic actions? (And I resent your suggestion that I'm speaking hyperbolically)

It would have to be something that combined all the things she loves, for example, Harry Potter (duh), Jane Austen, Mr Darcy, Chocolate, and Colin Firth and Jeopardy. This will be quite a feat.

I know! A Jeopardy-style spin-off, hosted by Colin Firth in colonial garb, which covers subjects pertaining to Austen and Potter, and offers chocolate-themed rewards and trips to the Harry Potter Theme Park. There will of course be an inflatable pool on set for Colin Firth to recreate the pond-swimming scene from Pride and Prejudice. And of course, Anonymous (aka AHPOF) will be the only player and the constant winner of this game.

In the meantime, this will have to do:

"Oh hello AHPOF, I didn't see you there..."

Can I Put "Delusion" Under "Special Skills"?

 As I previously mentioned, I'm unemployed. Very much so. And yes, there are varying levels of unemployment. There's the chronically unemployed-- thankfully, I'm not a part of this group, although at the rate I'm going, busking in the subway may be a possibility. For the good of people travelling on any form of subterranean transportation, it's best (for their sanities and ear drums) I'm restrained from doing this. The only instrument at which I'm proficient is the recorder, (see number three) and I doubt anyone wants flashbacks of their elementary school recorder experiences.


Since I am unemployed, and have copious amounts of time on my hand which should ideally be used for job searching but is rather employed anthropomorphising my cat and writing blog posts, I've devised a handy-dandy collection of ideas of things I should do whilst unemployed. I don't want you to think that I'm obsessed with lists, (and hence, anal) but I love lists.


1) Become a crossword puzzle genius: I briefly considered becoming a chess genius, but last time I played chess it was with a nine year old, and he beat me-- twice. In the past week, I was on a plane for a total of six hours. What did I do? I worked strenuously on the SAME NY magazine crossword puzzle. The. Same. One. As the little boxes filled in, I became convinced- I'm REALLY good at this shit! (There was a hint of delusion in the stale airplane air) So, I will become a mad crossword genius, and groups of people will gather round to watch me as I solve them in a matter of mere minutes. I'll be the Bobby Fischer of crossword puzzles. They'll make a film about me. I think I've said enough on the matter.

I don't want to tell you how much time this took. Also, I underestimated the number of letters in "puzzle"                

2) Learn to drive so I can prove that yes, I can reach the pedals : In the past month, I've been reengaged with suburban America. (Aka "The Real America) And I've discovered two things--- Firstly, this supposedly "real" land (in which the closest semblance of a cultural centre is a strip of chain stores) is kind of horrible. Secondly, if you don't have a car, or don't know how to drive, you're fucked. (I've always lived in cities, it was neither necessary nor safe since the cities were notorious for reckless driving) I've been told my legs are too short to reach the pedals, but screw you haters, I will soon be very comfortably sitting on a large cushion in the driver's seat.

You can get this fancy thing here- it swivels too....!

3) Teach myself to play the guitar that I have had for over six years: The guitar symbolizes how impressive my powers of delusion are. When I got it, I was (and still am) convinced I would be an autodidact, like those artists grueled for hours upon hours, alone, teaching themselves how to play guitar or piano, so they would someday write their masterpieces. (Or lip-sync to them) But I really didn't have the determination or drive for that. I learned a couple chords, but hit a wall when it came to the strumming bit. Maybe it's time for this pipe dream to be finally REALISED!


4) Coach my cat into being a You Tube sensation: This is probably the most realistic of my options. He's very charming and his antics would be rivaled only by "Charlie Bit Me." His act would be part Maru, (see below) part Charlie Chaplin. But I'm scared I will be an overbearing stage mother and that the fame will go to his head. I just want him to lead a normal life.

5)  Fruit Ninja high score: Ever since one of dear friend's has had an ipad in her life, it has been my dream and goal to beat her high score on Fruit Ninja. My quest remains unfufilled, and she is only getting stronger as I languish to surpass her. Must practice slicing fruits with panache and dexterity.

These are most of my more pragmatic suggestions. Any others would be very much appreciated-- for example, building a ten foot structure out of al dente macaroni, or placing tracking devices on squirrels for super important research about acorn. (ha! ACORN)