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Collection of detritus found on the sides of the Information Superhighway. Now with no trans fat! .

Fun Facts About Me
- I sleep with at least a foot or hand dangling off the bed.

- My favorite color is teal.

- I have 3 beauty marks: cheek, back, lower cheek.

- I like Kraft mac & cheese and hot cocoa on cold days.

- I love old romantic comedy musicals.

- I have big feet.


The Chinese Goddess of prostitutes. As a mortal, she was a widow who was much too liberal and inventive with her favors, and her father-in-law killed her. In death she was honored by her more professional associates and eventually became the goddess of whores.
Baklava Cups
1 (2 1/8oz) box frozen miniature phyllo cups
2/3 c. chopped mixed nuts
1-2 tsp. sugar
1/4 c. honey
1 tsp. water

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
2. Place the shells on a baking sheet. Mix the sugar and chopped nuts and fill the shells. Bake for 8 minutes or until the shells are lightly browned.
3. Mix the honey and water in a small bowl and drizzle over the nuts. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Kujiga: Korean Chant
Song sung by the nine elders of Kaya when summoning King Suro. One of the earliest (if not the first) recorded instance of a shamanistic ritual (kut) in Korea.

Keobuga, Keobuga
Meorireul naeeora
Naeeonoch'i aneumyeon
Kuweo meogeuri
"Turtle, Turtle
Stick out your head
If you don't
We'll roast and eat you"

Cortigiana Onesta
In Italy, known as honest courtesans, the cortigiana onesta were usually well-educated and worldly (sometimes even more so than the average upper-class woman), and often held simultaneous careers as performers or artists. They were typically chosen on the basis of their "breeding"--social and conversational skills, intelligence, common sense, and companionship--as well as their physical attributes. It was usually their wit and personality that set them apart from regular women. They were prostitutes in the sense that sex was one of their obligations, but unlike the average prostitute, sex constituted only a facet of the courtesan's array of services. For example, they were expected to be well-dressed and ready to engage in a variety of topics ranging from art to music to politics.
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Friday, November 19, 2010
I am a treat dispenser

We got the cat treats because I was starting to worry about Bossy-Cat's teeth. Not for any real reason, just dawned on me he had teeth and they should be cared for. Bossy is also pretty picky so I wasn't all that sure he'd even be interested in the treats but I knew that the retarded Fatty cat would eat anything that Bossy didn't.

Bossy loves the treats. I give him a few and he'll scream at me for 15 minutes to give him more. He's convinced my fingertips magically dispense the treats and huffs them noisily. I've hidden the treat bag because he's starting to equate rustling as an indicator that my fingertips will begin dispensing treats.

He doesn't even chew! Just swallows them like the delicious choking hazards that they are! At most we've seen three chomps before the gulp but I swear half the things are just swallowed like benzos. Which I think defeats the purpose of feeding him tooth cleaning cat treats. Unless they're like those foaming drain cleaners, triggered by kitty stomach acid, filling him with dental cleansing foam. But since he hasn't looked rabid lately I'll assume that's not the case.

He's so loud and obnoxious afterwards that I almost don't want to give him any more but then feel guilty about his old bossy teeth. He yells and grumps, following me around the house till he gives up. That's when he melodramatically falls onto his side with a great sigh as if all the joy in life has died.

Now every time I go to the kitchen he pokes his head expectantly around the corner and I swear his meow sounds like "whatchadoin?" Once he sees I'm only washing dishes he sighs and goes away. I'm almost afraid to try and eat chips around him.

posted by Coddswaddle @ 8:57 AM   0 comments
Thursday, November 18, 2010
I'm a moron
For the last three and a half years I've been living in San Francisco. During this time my primary and only vehicle was my motorcycle. Now that I'm back in Texas I also have a car and it's taken some getting used to but it's nice to no longer worry about getting wet or having a bug splatter itself against my throat.

The other day, while visiting my local motorcycle shop to pick up some stuff to clean my chain with, I noticed a police patrol car circling me as I parked. While I gathered myself to exit the car he pulled alongside me and rolled down his window.

"Hello, ma'am. You seem to be missing your registration sticker."

My brain froze. A what? Wasn't that the little thing on my license plate? I got out, circle my car, returned to my starting point and stared at the officer like a retarded puppy. I swear I almost tilted my head. As we stared at each other I watched the subtle change in his face as he obviously experienced an inner facepalm.

He got out of his car, walked over to me, and tapped the windshield.

"This is your inspections sticker," he said as if talking to an especially slow child. "This tells me that the car is safe for the road. That it's lights, brakes and such are in good working order."

I was growing more and more embarrassed and he was embarrassed for me.

"Now around this sticker, either above or to the side, is usually another sticker. It's called a registration sticker. Do you have this sticker somewhere?"

My mind raced. And then I had a flicker... maybe that thing we got in the mail. The thing that confused both myself and the Fiance!

"I think it's at home. I'm sorry, I've been riding nothing but motorcycles for years now and I'm not used to car... stuff... anymore."

We stared uncomfortably a bit longer. He let me know that these stickers were important if I wanted to avoid tickets in the future and I should get it on there as soon as I could. I thanked him and felt stupid as he drove off.

After picking up the cleaning stuff, I drove home wondering where the thing in the mail might be. As soon as I walked in the door the damned thing stared me in the face from the top of the little foyer cabinet.

First I'd like to state that I am, in fact, not utterly stupid. When Fiance and I received the registration paperwork and license plates, we thought everything was fine. The plate had it's little registration sticker on it, obviously peeled from the bottom half of the paperwork. This bottom half also had a larger sticker but for some reason we agreed that this must be some sort of optional sticker. I swear, it wasn't just me. Fiance thought it too!

But looking at it now, in the harsh glare of humiliation, I saw the bright red boxes encircling the sticker, screaming in bold caps: FOR WINDSHIELD.

I swear they weren't there before. Long story shortened: I put the sticker on. Felt stupid. Told Fiance so he could keep me company in feeling stupid. He did and I felt better.
posted by Coddswaddle @ 7:04 AM   1 comments
About Me

Name: Coddswaddle

High Priestess of the Dark Lord Internet

About Me: I was hatched long ago by a slightly neurotic squirrel. It was from that rodent that I cultivated an interest in shiny objects and innovative design. Marketing is a trial for me as I navigate the aisles of plastic-wrapped promotional products. At home I like to shoot aliens while smack-talking, cuddling my cats, and causing my fiancée grief.
See my complete profile

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