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    A Mac User's Note on Windows 7

    I just installed Windows 7 Ultimate on my new 27” iMac. Why? For games, of course!

    One thing struck me while discussing my initial experiences of the OS with my ‘Microsoftie’ dad: Windows 7, somewhat like its predecessor Vista, behaves like an OS acutely aware of its vulnerability.

    With its insane default security settings and constant confirmation prompts for anything involving a system change or the running of an application, Windows 7 seems to be permeated by the mentality of a survivalist: holed up in a shiny blue cave, with lots of tinned food and water, pointing a double-barreled shotgun at the entrance.

    By comparison, OSX is like a good bartender: it keeps an eye on you while you have a good time, but only asks for your car keys if you start acting stupid.

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    Battle Soup recipes

    If there exist cooks who like turning delicious meals into step-by-step recipes, I do not know them. I mean, it’s basically data entry, which no one likes; on top of which, entering data made up on the spot, eyeballed and adjusted three times during the course of cooking, isn’t just annoying - it’s damn near impossible.

    Buuuut… You asked, so here are what I’m dubbing pseudorecipes of the dishes I made for Panic Inc.’s Battle Soup. All quantities and times are approximate, some ingredients were probably forgotten. Treat this as a cooking fake book.

    Turkey Bean Soup

    • ~1 lb of dry pinto beans
    • 1 smoked turkey thigh or leg (Whole -ugh- Foods has ‘em here) or ham on the bone
    • 1 large onion, diced
    • 1 medium carrot, diced

    Soak the beans in a large, covered bowl overnight. If you’re pressed for time, give them 2 hours at least. Next day, drain the beans and put them in a 5-quart dutch oven. Cover them with water, and bring this to a boil, uncovered. As soon as the water boils, take it off the heat and drain the beans again.

    Cover with water again - a little less than half the dutch oven altogether - and add the turkey, onions, and carrot. Add a generous amount of salt. Bring to a light boil, turn down to a simmer, and cook for 60-90 minutes, partially covered. Salt throughout as needed, but go easy; a lot of water will boil out, and you never know how salty the turkey will be. At about 60 minutes, pull apart the turkey meat with two forks (careful not to scratch up your pot.) If the meat doesn’t pull apart willingly, wait and do this at the end of cooking.

    When the beans are soft enough, make a quick roux in a nonstick skillet: flour and vegetable oil whisked together for 3-4 minutes, then add a tablespoon of paprika. It should be dangerously orange-red. The roux doesn’t need to cook for a super-long time; 10 minutes tops. Stir it into the stew. After a few minutes, taste and add salt if needed. Definitely hit it with black pepper.

    The whole thing will look a little soupy at the end of the 90 minutes, but as it sits, it’ll thicken some more. The stew will be even better when reheated one or two days later.

    Chestnut Brunost

    • 2-3 lb of chestnuts
    • 2 shallots, chopped
    • 2 stalks celery, chopped
    • 3 tbsp butter
    • 1 qt good chicken or vegetable stock, homemade if possible (if not, Better Than Bouillon. Trust me, it beats the boxed and canned stuff, organic or not.)

    To toast the chestnuts: carefully cut an X in the side of each chestnut. This will give the steam somewhere to go so your oven doesn’t get destroyed by flying chestnuts. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT, DO NOT SKIP IT. Place them on a baking sheet in a single layer and roast at 400 F for 10-20 minutes, until the X cuts open up. Remove from the oven and shell each chestnut while wearing old gloves or holding them with a towel. I know it sucks to handle hot stuff, but once they cool down, they’ll be impossible to clean. Make sure you remove the inner, thin shell as well. You can also save some time (and lose a bit of flavor) if you buy roasted, shelled chestnuts in the jar.

    Melt the butter in a heavy dutch oven over medium/medium-high heat. When foaming subsides, add the shallots and celery and cook for 3-4 minutes, until soft. Add the chestnuts and stir for a minute. Add the stock, bring to a boil, then turn the heat down. Simmer for 20-30 minutes until the chestnuts are soft.

    Blend the soup right in the pot using an immersion blender. If you don’t have one, wait until the mixture cools down, then blend in a blender or food processor. Taste and add sugar and salt if needed. For a richer taste (but a little less chestnut-y) add half a pint or a pint of heavy cream.

    Serve topped with a slice of butter topped with a slice of Gjetost (Brunost) cheese. You gotta try this stuff - just forget all you know about cheese before you do.

    Apple Honey soup

    • 5-6 large Granny Smith apples
    • 3 small parsnips (they should add up to no more than 1/3 of the weight of your apples)
    • 750 ml good mead (or for a baby-friendly version, apple juice)
    • A sachet (small cloth bag) of cinnamon, clove, allspice, a whole nutmeg, and a few peppercorns (use grains of paradise if you want to be real fancy - I did.) Instead of a sachet you could also go with a tea bag or ball, or just grind them in.
    • 3 tbsp unsalted butter

    Peel the apples and parsnips, quarter and cut into 1/4” slices; keep the two separated. Toss the apples with 2 tsp salt and spray with a few squirts of lemon or orange juice.

    Melt the butter in a - you guessed it - heavy dutch oven over medium/medium-high heat. When foaming subsides, add the parsnips and cook for 2-3 minutes. Add the apples, mead (or apple juice), stir, and bring to a boil (2-3 minutes). Put in the sachet, cover pot and simmer on low for 10-20 minutes, until the apples are soft.

    Remove from heat, take out the sachet, and blend the soup using - you guessed it - an immersion blender. Straining the soup makes it way smoother, but you don’t absolutely *have* to do it. I’ll let it slide. If the soup is too thick for your taste, thin it down with more mead or apple juice. Or try apple cider, why not!

    Serve with a dollop of good blue-veined cheese such as gorgonzola (fresh stuff, please) and a thing of fried bacon, which you can also candy by frying in simple syrup. Look it up! :)

    A note: mead is an unfairly unpopular drink. At its best, it’s pleasing and familiar, unique, rich and complex. I found that the difference between a $10 bottle and a $20 bottle can taste more like $500; for this recipe, I used the excellent Redstone Mountain Honey Wine.

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    Theme Garden Submissions

    We get a lot of submissions but sometimes for one reason or another we get a theme that we cannot accept.  Here are some of those themes:

    tumblr_kub2y4tKiJ1qz52ae.png
    Couldn’t tell if this was photoshopped or not.

    tumblr_kub2zcXaRA1qz52ae.png
    Duly noted.

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    This theme was called Red.

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    “Cause everytime they sing they touch my soul”

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    BustedTees has the trademark on this.

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    This one was called Horses!

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    I spent 1994 to 1997 harboring the same unrequited crush on a boy who, when he heard, told our entire 4th grade class as we lined up to go back inside after recess, that this couldn’t possibly be true, because “if Meaghan O. liked me, I would be in the bathroom barfing right now.”

    “It’s not true!” I yelled out, and wanted to die. I mean, truly wanted to die in a way you don’t really want to die anymore when you grow up. Don’t get me wrong, I want to die all the time still but not in that way. Not in that I am nothing way.

    So I was ass over elbows for this kid for pretty much the rest of my adolescence, and eventually we became friends because I sort of leveled up in popularity self-esteem after quitting Girl Scouts and refusing to wear glasses and reading all of my mom’s Anatomy books so that I told everyone I knew everything I knew about fuckin and then got kicked out of the gifted program because I had a mouth like a sailor and was generally too much of a badass. Anyway we became friends and I would write poems about him and he would find out and I would do presentations in class about Madonna songs I considered to be about him and he would sit through them, and I would give him nicknames and send him long notes about how he PLAYED with my HEART and then we would hold hands during Anne Frank and he would tell me I looked really pretty in my new smiley face hair clip but that Michael Fowler was telling all the boys in PE class that I didn’t wear gym shorts under my pleated skirt.

    Eventually things escalated and we talked on the phone every night from 4:10 (when he got off the bus and I finished my math homework) until 8pm (when my mom kicked me off the phone because…I…had… been on it for four hours) and when I was grounded he would pretend to have a homework question and we would do our homework out loud and then he would tell  me he just did that so he could hear my voice I would hang up and run and sing and skip around the house and my mom would say, Baby, I hate to tell you this, but that ain’t ever gonna happen.

    And I probably yelled at her then went and wrote in my diary and made plans to go to the skating rink over Thanksgiving.

    We went and we held hands during couples skate to LeeAnn Rimes’ “How Do I Live (without you! srsly!)” but we- well, somehow, at 12, we managed to be in the sort of relationship gray area mostly tailored to people our age now! But much like now I was in no hurry to define things! I didn’t care about lousy titles! I just wanted to hold hands during the sad songs so I knew what it felt like and could yell at my mom that I knew what love was more than she ever would! It was fall of ‘97 and I was literally living out a dream— a dream I had written about for years and years in my stupid diaries and in Petrarchan sonnets rife with simile and forced rhyme, in notes to my stupid friends who would always show them to him on the bus ride home, in elaborate math equations, theonly time i enjoy it, attempting to predict the likelihood of our together forever-ness based on vowels and consonants and dammit our names had so many wonderful E’s! — but he told my friend he wasn’t sure. He was 12 and he liked to hold my hand but he had read my sonnets and he wasn’t sure. He had heard my ideas of “Take a Bow” and all it meant and he wasn’t sure.  He could never really know, you see, if he really liked me or if he just liked me because I loved him.

    He said we couldn’t be together because he could never love me as much as I loved him.

    No seriously, he did. This was like 1997 and he was emotionally unavailable.

    Anyway Christmas break came around and I went to Tallahassee to look for our new house and by the time I got back he was GOING OUT with a girl who was in HIGH SCHOOL and the rumor was that he did things to her that Romeo did to Juliet in the Baz Luhrman movie (sorry, couldn’t make that up).

    Obviously I cried a lot but it fit perfectly with my overtly tragic (Lurlene McDaniel-influenced) sense of how things would pan out for me in the long run. I wrote him notes that would put a grown man TO SHAME. 10, 20 page notes with the rhetorical skill of Friends, Romans, Countryman but more along the lines of, and I quote, “thank you for teaching me what suck feels like”.

    Eventually my rage subsided into deciding to pretend the girl friend didn’t exist and letting him call me every night again and letting him sneak up behind me in the lunchline every day and put his cold chocolate milk up to my cheek to scare me which only worked the first few times but months and months later was something I got excited about in the shower before school. Soon enough we were passing notes again and I taught him how to write block letters and he taught me about the NBA and we’d do all our assignments together and his hand would always be on my thigh before we knew why we liked it and soon we were getting in trouble for ‘giving each other googly eyes’ in class and people called me a whore for flirting with him and people gave him shit for leading me on but i didn’t CARE because here was my dream so we passed note after note after note and I still have most of them and most of them end the same way.

    Every time he wrote me a note he would write 8 little ‘lines’ before he signed his name.

    He wouldn’t tell me what they meant and I was never really sure but he wrote them every time. He would come over and write them on my math homework, on the margins of my social studies notes, on the cover of my religion book, in white out on his backpack. I went utterly batshit but he never gave in, just smiled and shrugged and made my heart pine for him to such an extreme it’s a wonder I didn’t pass out half the time.

    Soon the lines became some other language between us, carving out a little 12 year old Us-Them before we knew that’s what people did; we wrote our names in block letters and we had nicknames for everything and we’d write Mariah Carey song lyrics in tiny writing at the bottom of our letters and I think that was one of the last times I participated in something, in intimacy, before I could name it.

    And then one day he told me he broke up with his girl friend.

    And then a few days later he told me there were 8 lines because there were 8 letters in I love you.

    And then we totally made out.

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    Who ya gonna call? (via Captain Redstorm)

    Nice.  A newer view of the Etco 1 and Firehouse.

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    (417): i deep throated a ruler to see what my limit was…


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    reasons why I love my life right now

    1. i am enjoying a peppermint mocha from starbucks presently

    2. the fireside chat made me love EVERYONE so much more. seriously, even though we got nothing accomplished, i’m just so ridiculously happy that everyone seems to be making an effort to be better people and try to get to know each other a little better.

    3. getting my sisters drunk at phi psi while i’m completely sober…. and then ditching them to come into studio. while they are taking shots i stood there awkwardly. but it’s ok because i’m so full of love right now

    4. seeing one of my faaavorite girls at phi psi (she doesn’t go to SU) completely shitfaced off of cheap wine at 10pm & continually getting drunk text messages from her since I left.

    5. a friend of mine found 10 mg of adderall and is getting me some. ty!!

    6. my studio final is in a week, with lots of other tests and papers to write due the week after but I don’t care because I’m so high on life right now! I can accomplish anything I set my mind to :-)

    7. this weekend is going to be fan-f*ing-tastic!!

    8. “strawberry andre goes straight to my vagina.” - nicole, HAHA ME TOO (Last time I had strawb andre was summertime on the beach. delish ;D) i will make sure to bring some to your graduation party saturday :)

    9. i love my tumblr!!!!

    10. tumblrs I am also obsessed with right now: Reasons I Don’t Have a Boyfriend & Stoner Party. XOXO

  10. 19 notes reblog

    I was hanging out with 3 of my friends and my roommate sent us a text that said, “Work sucks”. The four of us immediately sent back texts that said, “I know”, “she left me roses…”, “…by the stairs”, “Surprises let me know she cares”. IMMD.