Before I make any snarky commentary, or ridiculous comments about anything, I just want to take a minute to say thanks.

This Monday is Memorial Day, and I am utterly speechless at the bravery and heroism of my family and friends who have served and continue to serve in the US Military. It takes something special to be willing to put yourself in a situation where your life is as much about sacrifice as it is about anything else. In the US we haven’t the compulsory service that other countries employ, making the commitment you make that much more exceptional. On behalf of myself, and my family, thank you.

Moving on…

Ok, I know that earlier in the week, I made a recipe for bourbon hot fudge. It’s delicious. I love it. Hooooowever, I’m going to have to ask you to STOP making it. “Why” you ask? Because apparently, you scamps are downing the remainder of the bottle after making the sauce, and then buying more. There’s a shortage, and I simply cannot have that. The recipe would work with frangelico or cognac, too. Just DON’T DRINK ALL MY HOOCH!! Or at least if you’re going to down the bottle like so much water, share!..with me. Only me. No one else needs to know. It will be our little secret.

How else am I supposed to keep up with my New Year’s Resolution of finally getting in-touch with my West Virginia roots if I don’t have whisky? I know, I know, you’re thinking that the jug of ‘shine I have in my fridge makes up for it, but I can’t make a mountain martini without both, and I love mountain martinis. (it’s an actual thing, and it has a pickle instead of an olive. It’s heaven.)

Since I’m taking away your hot fudge sauce, I figure I’ll replace it with something. Something to nosh on whilst you peruse the latest tidbits about the Danny Tanner-Topanga cocaine feud.

Coconut Mounds Granola

Breakfast to Bed

Finals are over. Papers are turned in. Grant proposals are being written. MUST BE SUMMER, AMIRITE?!?!? So what if it’s in the 50s and raining!?!?! I can’t be bothered with such details.

Seeing as how I am too sore to even attempt to stand from a seated position or sit from a standing position, I really cannot be expected to go outside.

I’m also going to probably become dehydrated because I have no intention on furthering my need to sit and stand by filling my bladder.

I am also in a slap-happy mood because, you know, finals are OVER, so today I bring you….

adventures in ambien.

By the very act of reading this blog, you know I am a writer….at least of snarky blogs….what you may not know is that I also write a fair amount of fiction. On top of the book for the musical I am penning with Broadway Baby, I am also working on a YA book about a young woman struggling with her weight and high school terrors like realizing your supposedly emo partner-in-crime secretly likes a boy band.

Well, last night I was doing some story-mapping and outline writing….after I took my ambien. Let’s see if you can figure out what in the fresh hell I was thinking!

Natasha: possibly purple with love Stevie Nicks. Maybe tries OTC hydroxy? Jessi Spano no AC or Mark Paul. Oreo buying stares vending machine

London: coffee soy milk more coffee vegan likes jello cigarettes in cello american spirit coughs and tries likes she and him hates zoe deschanel 

Can you follow that line of WTF?!?!?

I looked at it this morning, and just shook my head. Last night I apparently text the Gaysian (who is also a literature PhD) at around 11:30, telling him I had a breakthrough and that Stephanie Meyer probably wrote Twilight while she was on peyote, which was her mistake because a legal sleep aid is obviously where the best inspiration comes from. I also apparently text him something about swallowing goldfish and necklaces made ice packs for summer weddings.

I am just glad I didn’t delete anything I have written while not under the influence.

Or the pictures and recipe to this hot fudge sauce I made you.

Bourbon Hot Fudge. You want it, you know you do.

Breakfast to Bed

I want to post a re-cap of my finals (since I didn’t go to blend) but I’d feel like a major asshole for doing so. Tonight or tomorrow night I’ll have a post with a delicious chocolate sauce, but for right now, I am praying for the people in Oklahoma. Such a tragedy.

If you can spare the $10, please text REDCROSS to 90999.

Breakfast to Bed

This morning in “what the HELL???” Mountain Dew has a breakfast drink. No really. I’m not kidding. The beverage company that rotted my hillbilly relatives’ teeth and I think might actually double as radium in nuclear bombs is taking over the most important meal of the day.

Why. Just, why? Do they want people to use it to chase their bacon, egg, and cheese on a jelly donut breakfast sandwich? Will it be on-tap at Carl’s Jr? You just KNOW someone asscandle is going to add Everclear to it, because…obviously. You can’t just be stupid, you have to be suicidally stupid.

I’m all for moderation and whatnot, this is actually a cookie post, but I don’t think my version of moderation will ever include toxic waste breakfast bevvies. Unless we’re talking a really spicy bloody mary…then it’s practically good for you! I mean, tomato juice, hot sauce, celery….there’s vodka too, but that’s good for your blood or something. I’m Slovak, I think it’s actually an essential component in my blood. Like heme, or t-cells, or sarcasm.

What the heck is wrong with black coffee? I’m fairly certain people have been drinking it far longer than the dew of the mountain, and with fewer negative effects. It may yellow your teeth and make you talk really fast, but you’ll still have teeth, and you won’t whistle when you talk. Also? Coffee smells good and cannot fuel military aircraft or glow under black light. (pure conjecture, but I can’t be far off in my assumptions. Not unlike my assumption that Ryan Seacrest is bringing about armageddon)

Coffee, you scamps. Drink it.

Also? dunk these cookies in it.

S’more cookies..with the marshmallows baked right in. I know. I know. I’ve just blown your mind. Ok, that may be a bit over-stating it, but I am making you have inappropriate thoughts about childhood campfires and that one hot guy at camp whom you just wanted to notice you but it turns out he’s gay and he only notices you because you both know the entire Sondheim catalog….

Breakfast to Bed

Yesterday was Mother’s Day, the day where we’re all supposed to feel like queens or some such nonsense. It was lovely, there was pizza, but today is most certainly back to business as usual.

You see, the Peanut loathes having any sort of even slightly, not noticeable to anyone but herself, soiled diaper. If she feels herself become damp or dirty, she immediately divests herself of her clothing and diaper, handing her diaper to whomever is lucky enough to be passing by. However, she is fairly insouciant about actually potty-training. It is damnably annoying.

It’s like I’m living in an effing Chekov story with all of the excrement and lack of personal responsibility. Granted, she’s just two and probably not a drunk Russian communist, but the comparison is there. Although, since she is frequently seen with very low pants and a great deal what of she thinks passes as swagger, perhaps she’s a bit more like Justin Bieber.

I swear, if she grows up to like him, I’m giving her every antibiotic known to man to rid her of the Bieber fever. Is there a vaccine I can give her now? Is that vaccine composed of his blood and the ashes of posters featuring much less douchey artists? Do you get it with the HPV vax? Tetanus? Does the adverse reactions warning label include “may fall into pathetic white-boy rapping and pseudo thug-meets Lindsay Lohan type behavior?”

Then again, I was head-over-heels in love with the New Kids. I had exceedingly poor taste as a second grader. I mean, Jordan Knight, the love of my life from 1991-1993 had a rat-tail and only sung in falsetto. Even Prince sings in a natural range from time-to-time. He sang as though his man bits never descended all.the.time.

The Peanut will have better judgment, I think. Mostly because she likes my cooking, so she can’t be dumb, amirite?

Today’s recipe is a winner.  I wanted a “breakfast cookie” that was gluten-free, refined-sugar free, and was absolutely free of the taste of Jordan Knight’s undescended manhood.

It took some tweaking, but damn are these good.

Gluten-Free Breakfast Cookies

Breakfast to Bed