white claudia

the room is filled with insects

Never again the Hot Pocket times

Spent my whole morning reviewing the contents of my hot pockets, now available in liquid form. Had to throw out the garbage can. 0/10 would not recommend.

Toaster oven works okay, though.

If teardrops were pennies, and heartaches were gold, I’d have all the riches my pockets could hold…

So, my oven’s dead, right?

Sucks shit and I hate my oven-less life, but until I get a new one, I bought a toaster oven so I can make complicated toast and easy bake bagels like an adult.

I haven’t made toast or bagels, yet, but I did throw away my toaster in anticipation.

Lately, I’ve been jonesing for these pizza hot pockets I used to like. I figured, what the hell, I got a toaster oven. I’m gonna go buy some fuckin pizza hot pockets. I’m gonna make my dreams come true.

The problem is, I haven’t had these things in like, 15 years. And I can’t remember which one, specifically, I liked.

I go to Safeway, anyway.

I buy some pizza hot pockets, thinking “surely one of these will be the one I liked.

15 years ago.

Back when I liked these things.”

But no.

As it turns out, the brand was probably not even hot pocket, but something Safeway no longer carries, and is probably no longer in production.

I gave my toaster oven virginity to a hot crust of lies.

What happened next will shock no one…

I was going to bake cupcakes, but as it turns out, I’m entirely too fucking lazy.

Thanksgiving

Currently, and regrettably, visiting my parents for Thanksgiving.

The dogs are sanity-savers.

I Have No Twitter, And I Must Rant Publicly

Oven is 100% done for. Good riddance. I spiritually piss on its grave.

Had to move the cheesecake next door to finish baking (to finish baking and beyond… I fucking hate using other peoples’ ovens, as grateful as I am to my neighbors for allowing me to use it… temps vary so wildly and you never truly know what’s going to happen until it’s too late) and I’m going to have to get up early tomorrow to go up to my parents’ house to bake the pumpkin pies. Christ on the cross, it never ends.

In other mildly upsetting news, I finally bit the bullet and bought a new domain. A .nu domain, yukyukyuk.

I’ve been very patient so far today, but it is really beginning to push my buttons.

Baking with my baby.

img_20161123_135450Fall/winter used to be my favorite times of year for basically one reason: Baking. I could use the oven without heating the whole house up, all my favorite shit to bake with is in season, and then I can give it all away afterwards.

Of course, this was all before my oven decided that the time to be a colossal piece of shit was upon us. Now, it no longer works, pretty much at all. I might be able to turn it on, but I might not, and even if I can get it to preheat correctly, there is simply no guarantee that it will stay on long enough to bake anything.

The upside to this is that I get a new oven. The downside is that it’s Christmastime and I don’t want to drop a lot of money on an oven when I could be buying Christmas presents for my kid (and my nieces and nephews who haven’t been liberated by CPS) and dogs.

Also, it fucks with my baking schedule.

Alas, tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and there are cheesecakes and sweet potato pies and pumpkin pies and possibly apple pies to be made, oven be damned.

So, here is my six-year-old daughter, pouring vanilla for a cheesecake. Which is in the oven. Probably baking, but just as likely just sitting there in the bain-marie, raw as fuck and forever inedible.

Such is life.

Why, yes, I am threatening you.

I have to go make dinner and some other shit, then I guess I’ll give this whole blogging thing another go. Can’t fail if I don’t try.

Mermaids, Part 2: Diana

Mermaids

Fandom: Rule of Rose

Summary: Diana and Jennifer are forced into a tentative partnership when the airship experiences mechanical difficulties.

Part 2: Diana

As a long time member of the upper echelon of the Red Crayon Aristocrats, Diana was not accustomed to being trod upon by anybody, let alone a miserable peon like the new girl.

Her lip curled as Jennifer continued mindlessly on her path, apparently unbothered by the prospect of collision. Her hands moved to her hips, a threatening pose she’d been working on to help better intimidate the underlings, but the foolish girl wasn’t paying mind enough to notice.

Stupid, filthy wretch. If she wrinkles my new dress, I’ll skin her alive.

Read the rest of this entry »

Pipebombed

Former wrestling superstar CM Punk pounded in UFC debut

I’m so happy I hate him so much❤

Cindy’s Place

I finished it sooner than I thought I would, or else I wouldn’t have posted that preview. Oh well.

Warnings: It’s a horror story, so…

Cindy’s Place

Mother was always the secretive type.

She was for shit at hiding presents or keeping her opinions to herself, and if she was angry at Father, everybody heard about it, but Mother kept her secrets just fine.

Mother used to teach preschool, but had gotten married and twice pregnant in the span of four years, and became a stay-at-home mom instead. This was supposed to mean that childrearing was her new job, but unlike her stint as a preschool teacher, Mother didn’t seem to take this job seriously.

Still, the house was kept, the children fed, the dogs maintained, and because her moods were usually intolerable, her company wasn’t exactly missed when she took to her room and didn’t come out for hours at a time.

Nor did anyone complain when she left the house in the early afternoon without so much as a goodbye, only turning up again at dinner time, each hand clutching a greasy paper bag filled with cold food.

The kids – two of them, ages 7 and 8, both girls and neither possessing of any true fondness for the other – rarely even noticed her absences. They had their toys, TVs, books, dogs, and imaginations to keep them busy. Since they didn’t much care for each other, they kept to themselves, and so neither was able to engage the other in any speculation in regards to Mother’s whereabouts, or bond over their shared disdain for the woman who had, for whatever reason, given birth to them.

After a while, Mother became a concept, really, just a formality. Someone to heat the frozen dinners and sign the permission slips.

It was a perfectly fine arrangement, until Father fucked it up.

Read the rest of this entry »