The "Insanely Chocolate Chocolate Chip Cake" you baked last night turned out less than perfect and you can't stop thinking about baking another which will, of course, turn out perfect. Can't stop thinking that because I had no baking soda and substituted it with an extra spoon of baking powder instead, all the chips sunk right down to the bottom. It still tastes all right, though. But what if it turned out perfect?? Shoot. The ravages of watching "Private Practice" and reading up Dell's blog and finding recipes in there. It's irresistible, I tell you. Damn. I need tall, dark and handsome unmarried stranger to whisk me away and kiss me senseless. Yeah, like Pete and Addison. BTW, if you're going "What the &%$* is she talking about?", the answer is Addison (ex-wife of McDreamy of Grey's Anatomy); has slunk off to LA to work in a private health clinic with nutty colleagues and oh-so-comel receptionist who goes surfing at lunchtime and bakes cakes for his crush - the divorced-but-still-in-love-with-ex-husband boss who is also Addison's friend. - Refer GA Season 3.
In any case, stupid me spent all weekend fooling around in between straightening out stupid house and am painfully aware that I will need to tie up the loose ends of the WWF job and sort out IMR article matters while anticipating a bunch of new stuff coming in. Also have other jobs to think about... Good for me, if I can just kick myself in the butt hard enough to ever get anything done.
Plus, it really is pissing me off that said 'rescuer' of little Kiko has not done anything to find him a home, and I've not received any responses so far except for one person who asked if she could take him in March. I said, yes, if he's still available. I also suggested that she could take him now if her apartment allows pets, because he's an indoor cat and toilet trained. She never replied. It's just SO annoying when people practice the 'paham2 ajelah attitude'. What if we 'paham' the wrong thing? Which is what usually happens. Don't ask, it's rude. It's better to assume (the wrong thing). Ha. No wonder everyone's a screw up. I mentioned that I don't want him too attached to me. More like me getting attached to him. I can just imagine myself saying farewell, with loads of advice to the adopter - "Don't give him milk, it gives him diarrhoea." "Watch out for his claws, he loves scrambling up uncovered legs." Don't let him in bed with you. He'll play half the night and you'll never get any sleep."But cats mean money. The boys eat A LOT. And sometimes they need vets, which are not cheap. I can sometimes get free advice, but jabs and stuff require cold hard cash, which I'm not exactly rolling in at the moment. Plus, their loo litter costs more than double what I pay for my water bills.
Just while we're rambling, have to say that British comedy writers are WAY better than American ones. Their humour is funny, as opposed to sick. Yes, they do write about a lot of humping, and getting wasted. But it's so much nicer to say 'bloke' and 'dangly bits' and 'being ratso' instead of using proper words for improper behaviour.
In any case, here's to the week ahead. Cheers!
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