these days of leiderhosen

I've just shot extreme closeups of the The Steven at his request (custom Second Life skin project). He is now locked himself in the closet and might be sobbing. We are old. Soft focus only from now on.

It's a ridiculously beautiful morning.

Yesterday we had dinner with the Parents and aunt and uncle I've not see since high school. Dad let slip a few bits from his childhood, which is a rare and funny thing.

The Niece (fine! "and her parents") were there and she was amused by the tossing bar method of throwing cheerios and catching them in the mouth trick. She's still a bit shy but we got goodbye kisses and she smelled so good one did want a great big bite of her. It's a fine thing that humans find babies adorable; otherwise they'd be food.

Posted by Madame Leiderhosen at 9:35 AM | 0 comments

Can't sleep, can't sleep. Gaaaah.

Posted by Madame Leiderhosen at 2:09 AM | 0 comments

A bit of sweetness from Garance Dore.

I've stumbled over this photographer's work. It's a world I wouldn't mind occupying.

Weekend plans: putting the new enormous outside dustpan to work, dinner with Parents and a few relatives that make me a little uncomfortable, a cleaning summit with The Steven ('When you "clean the bathroom", what exactly does that entail?') and the assembly of a cat trap for Lola.

Posted by Madame Leiderhosen at 2:25 PM | 0 comments

Fashion?: Spats! (Can someone come show me how to walk in heels?)
Lipstick: Bobbi Brown Tulle Brown (purchased by the Steven on Halloween at SF Nordstrom where drag artists filled the chairs at every makeup counter. Fabulous in spades.)
Reading: someone's very old copy of the Joy of Cooking. The spine is gone and it's filled with recipes from the newspaper and shopping lists.
Reaction to New Meds: might be working, but I am too stressed to notice.
Need: semi-soft industrial paint brush for leather restoration, giant metal dust pan for neighborhood cleanup at Oh-Dark-Thirty Saturday. To Hell with what the neighbors think.
Favorite Word: Ghastly. Covers a lot these days.
I Want: Mix to come visit and a day off.
Toenails: Bare, neglected.
Missing: Casey, an earring, the orifice hook.

Posted by Madame Leiderhosen at 8:01 AM | 1 comments

Best grocery Store ever. People line up outside for the doors to open every day. They has yuzu last time I was in. Prime people watching; see entry below.

Posted by Madame Leiderhosen at 8:31 AM | 1 comments

This gentleman's outfit was completely handmade, except for his hiking boots. His netted skirt was fascinating as was the rain-proof yellow hat.

I was too shy to take a shot of his front side once it was discovered that his face was elaborately painted in the fashion of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. He had even striped his beard green. This is at 9:50 AM on a Sunday morning.

Posted by Madame Leiderhosen at 8:31 AM | 0 comments

Should you be a cotton swab maybe it would be best for you to find something else to do.



Snack size Heath Bars are the bomb. Toffee seems like a very adult pleasure.

Ben came for dinner yesterday and although everything that could go culinary wrong did, he sallied forth and remains my favorite person to drink scotch with.
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Baked apples could be new favorite thing.

Forget which apples are good for what. Do online research. While appearing a complete doofus with chart printout, scour apple section. Pick apples of the same size so they cook evenly. Best candidates are generous sized and regular shaped. Braeburns worked very well, maintaining shape while still spoon assault-able.

Invite guest over. Preheat kick-ass oven to 350 degrees. (Thanks, Andy. You have such good taste in kitchen appliances.)

Using a decent peeler (everyone should try several until they find their perfect match) and the large cooking apple: turn upside down and peel 3/4 the way down leaving the stem part of the apple intact. Even if you do not cook you should know how to use a peeler; it's part of becoming a useful part of society.

Leave the pointless and dangerous apple corer in the drawer and use a melon baller to scoop out the blossom end and the core of the apple. Don't dig all the way through to China or the stem part. Discover melon ballers to be fascinating things. I rather enjoyed melon ballers as a child; for a while everything I ate was spherical.

Put the guest to work stuffing the apple void with good things: butter and brown sugar mashed together with some cinnamon and a few luscious dried fruits (raisins, apples, cranberries) and maybe some chopped nuts, provided ones dining victim is not allergic. Pecans might be good, Oooh, pecans. Stuff, stuff, stuff all the way to the top.

Place in a small pan with like-minded apples, stem and peel side down/stuffing opening up. Throw a bit of liquid in the pan: cider, wine, juice even water to come up about a half inch up the apple island. Decide to use smaller pan; these can be crowded a bit. Since one has cracked open the 12 year Highland Park and made a significant dent, tip a tiny bit over the apples and refill scotch glasses take guest outside to distract from dinner wreckage.

350 degrees for 1 hour. Very good with heavy cream over the top.

Posted by Madame Leiderhosen at 6:53 AM | 1 comments

Jonathan Coulton's Re: Your Brains has been worming through my skull for the last three days thanks to a nostalgic roam through Brenda Dayne's Cast On Podcast archive. (BTW: Happy Podiversery, Ms. Brenda! )

As a public service, here's a live JC's video. Enjoy. And sing along. The worse you sing, the better!




I guess it's November now. At any moment I'll be asked to produce unreasonable quantities of FCS (Fucking Cheese Sticks) for the family. In the meantime Ben's coming over for dinner to see the new digs. Now all I need is a nice chianti...

Love you,
Madame.

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Castle on ABC has a glimpse into Canadian Pinup Nathan Fillion's Firefly past:



Can't you just hear the seat of his trousers ripping out...again?

Posted by Madame Leiderhosen at 8:12 AM | 1 comments

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I can't stand "smooth" or "soft" jazz. Fuck! I just want to ice pick the eardrums. Why does The Steven, for all his fabulous attributes, insist on playing the crap?

Comments? List something that drives you mad. Please.

Posted by Madame Leiderhosen at 6:20 PM | 1 comments

It must have been Dan Savage's column that discussed a sexual pie throwing fetish, but the idea has stuck with me. I think Dan's recommendation was to create time and preparation for such an event. How disappointing that one can't really have a pick-up pie fight.

So. I want my own pie fight. I want several cans of Reddi Whip and a baker's rack of flaky pie shells. Not as a kinky thing, mind you; just because it's ridiculous and the inner vaudevillian craves satisfaction. Thankfully I might be married to a guy who might oblige us. Let me know if you want an invite to this "someday" gathering. (**IMPORTANT UPDATE: See Scott's comment below. A pie fight is scheduled for 12/24/09 in Los Gatos, California at the Parentals' house. Bring a change of clothes and a towel, because we will be hosing off in the front yard.** It's my Christmas present to myself.)

If you haven't caught the 6 part Monty Python Documentary that aired last week the boxed set will be available in December. And there was much rejoicing, especially over the bit below. I watch it over and over.



This weekend I met up with L. from CCD Days (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine). L. is one of those lovely clever people who can make you laugh so hard that you have to sit down, lest you pass out or wet yourself. I adore this sensation. Bizarre, terrific and gorgeous, she managed to get me through Catholic Confirmation although I was having a severe ethical crisis over the whole affair. In the end I did get through it, but without Laura I think the high school years might have been completely unendurable. I doubt I would have survived it on my own so I am now pondering: how do you return a favor like that?

Brenda Dayne on the Fourth Plinth.

Posted by Madame Leiderhosen at 12:18 PM | 2 comments

Ze on Respect:


(-sigh.-)

Posted by Madame Leiderhosen at 6:49 AM | 0 comments

So very gorgeous. The artist has a blog here.

Posted by Madame Leiderhosen at 10:32 AM | 0 comments

I think I oppose the word "ripped" in conjunction with the idea of fitness. It makes me think of the after effects of too many protein shakes.



Steven is having a morning devoted to settling his pack rat issues so he bounces in every four minutes with fresh treasures to show me. The following is one of his favorite stories (source unknown):

"The finest line of poetry ever uttered in the history of this damn country was said by Canada Bill Jones in Baton Rouge, while he was being robbed blind in a crooked game of faro. George Devol, who was, like Canada Bill, not a man who was averse to fleecing the odd sucker, drew Bill aside and asked him if he couldn't see that the game was crooked. And Canada Bill sighed, and shrugged his shoulders, and said ;I know. But it's the only game in town.' and went back to the game."

I am worried about the cat.

Posted by Madame Leiderhosen at 8:07 AM | 0 comments