You Are What You Eat (And You Smell Like It Too)

Is it possible to O.D. on canned tuna? I'm asking because I have this co-worker who eats three to four cans of tuna, sometimes mixed with a bowl of white rice, over the course of one workday. Every day. He also ingests protein shakes and various vitamin supplements (dude, he, like, works out), but it's the massive amounts of tuna that make me want to vomit. He opens these cans and the odor is sent wafting out of our little office kitchen and over the walls of our cramped grey pens. Three to four times a day. How healthy can this possibly be for my co-worker, who will hereafter be referred to as Chickenlegs of the Sea? I swear, this guy must have gallons of mercury coursing through his veins.

In my mind, I'm convinced that his skeleton is coated in metal, kind of like Wolverine but without the strength, snark and sex appeal.

Two Recipes, Both Heart-Stranglingly Delicious

The possibility of a Pajiba Scrabble Sex Orgy in the near future has got me thinking - what kind of appetizers would naked nerds enjoy?

Here are two of my favorites:

Spicy Sausage Dip

1 package (tube?) Jimmy Dean Breakfast Sausage (I told you they'd be heart-strangling)
1 package cream cheese
1 can Ro-tel diced tomatoes with green chilies

Brown sausage in large skillet. Add cream cheese and melt, then add Ro-tel. Blend ingredients and heat through. Serve with tortilla or corn chips.


Sweet and Satisfying Spread

1 log of goat's cheese
1/2 cup craisins
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
1/4 -1/2 cup caramel sauce, warmed
1 baguette, sliced

Place cheese on large serving platter. Drizzle warmed caramel sauce over cheese, then sprinkle with nuts and craisins. Spread on baguette slices. Eat more than you planned because it's just that fucking scrumptious.

Fat Ass Vs. Lazy Ass

Do I go home and eat leftover homemade gnocchi & meatballs (thanks Mom & Grandma!), or do I order in from the deli up the street with my coworkers? Going home would give me the opportunity to walk the dogs and save money. But ordering in allows me to sit at my desk and Pajiba all day.

This is a tough one.

Just Me and My Conan

I can't sleep. At all. I don't even feel all that tired, so, let's recap the evening, shall we?

The hubs and I drove to the mall to assist the fabulous Ms. Kara in her quest to find the perfect outfit for a drag show she'll be attending this weekend. I learned two things while waiting for Kara to emerge from the dressing room: 1) drag queens must be quite picky about what the audience wears to their shows, and 2) Kara's legs are way too long. I'm actually not sure we can be friends anymore after seeing her in the mini-dress she ended up with.

After saying adieu to my friend, Mr. Kolby and I decided to head to Fuddrucker's for a burger (yes, I am aware that Fuddrucker's is not a Japanese steakhouse, which is where we were supposed to go - just bear with me). Fuddrucker's was insanely busy. On a Wednesday night. So, we climbed back into the car ( I should also mention that both Mr. Kolby and I become somewhat grumpy when deprived of food for any length of time) and drove to Friendly's. Friendly's was on a wait. On a Wednesday night. A wait. Yeah. So, we drove back to Fuddrucker's, because that's where my man reeeaaalllyy wanted to go. At this point, we were both ready to kill each other, and my excuse ("It's my birthday, you have to be nice to me!") was falling on deaf ears. Anyway, I walked up to the door and the line to the registers at Fuddrucker's was easily 75 feet long. I swear to you I was afraid to turn to my husband and tell him there was no way we'd be eating in under 40 minutes at Fudd's. He handled it pretty well, which is to say that he didn't shout obscenities at the toddler that was walking by at that moment. So, we got back into the car.

We ended up at Smokey Bones, a barbecue chain. It's actually not bad, especially since we're in Albany and decent barbecue is about as easy to come by as a New York politician with a conscience. Hee. Anyway, they were also on a wait, but I wasn't about to go anywhere else. So, we sat at the bar and had a damn good time. I got wasted from one margarita (yay for cheap dates!) and had a kick-ass burger. My man (we were back on speaking terms at this point - food always seems to help) had a couple of Guinnesses and some ribs. All was well in the world.


Except now I can't sleep. And Conan's gone!

Pass the Ben-Gay

This is it. I'm 30 years old today. So far, it's been a pretty uneventful day. I didn't sleep very soundly last night because Mr. Kolby was in Syracuse for work, and my imagination tends to run wild when I'm alone in the dark. So, last evening, it was just me, the two rat terriers and the fat cat. Because of my imagination I have to sleep with the television on and facing the bedroom door. I only do this when I'm alone, and I think it stems from the effect watching Poltergeist had on me when I was 6. I had to check under the bed for months - you know, for clowns.

I woke up at 6:40 this morning with a headache and a pain in my butt. Honestly, I think I pulled a muscle near my tailbone. So, I have an actual pain in my ass. I can't even begin to imagine what I must have done in my sleep to tweak an ass tendon (or whatever I've got back there - I've never really bothered to examine the anatomy of my rear end). I guess this is what happens as we age - I just never expected it to happen so quickly.

So, I took the day off today. I'm just laying around, which is what I was planning on doing anyway, but now that it's all I can do, it's not so fab. The dogs are ecstatic to have a warm body to snuggle against on a Wednesday, and I'm hoping Mr. Kolby will sneak out of work early to take me out for some shopping and a little Japanese.

In the meantime, I've come up with a list of things I would like to accomplish while I'm 30:

1. Have a baby. It's about time, and all my friends are doing it!
2. Move. To anywhere but here. Both Mr. Kolby and I have decided to start shopping around for new jobs. New York is great, but not if you're just starting out.
3. Start reading regularly again. I've gotten away from reading for fun since I started working in government, and I miss losing myself in a good story. Plus, anything that will prevent my brain from shrinking further is definitely a worthwhile endeavor.
4. Start working out again. This may be the most difficult goal on my list, because I'm really fucking lazy these days. I mean, I'm not overweight or anything, but I would like to get into a size two again. Then again, if I accomplish item #1 soon....

Shallow Thoughts

It's February 12, 2008. Eight days from my 30th birthday. Holy shit.

There are nine months to go before the Presidential Election, and I'm already sick of Lou Dobbs, Wolf Blitzer, Campbell Brown, and pretty much everyone else on CNN. Except Anderson Cooper. Anderson Cooper is God.

I don't know who the Dow Chemical Company has running their marketing department, but those damn "Human Element" commercials draw me in every time. They're beautiful.

When Mr. Kolby has the remote, he cycles through ONLY the HD channels before announcing that there's nothing on. We have less than 20 HD channels. Yes, I'm serious.

Kiss My Ass, Pig

I almost forgot - I got a parking ticket today. I am so pissed at myself. A $50 ticket for parking my car on the wrong side of the street before noon. In case you're wondering how that works, here's the gist: Albany sucks. No seriously, it does. Anyway, on certain days of the week in the downtown section of the city, you can only park on one side of the street. It alternates, every other street, every other side. Make sense? So, this morning I was driving to work, and I was running a little late (as usual - I just can't seem to leave early to get to the job that I love so much), so when I turned onto Lancaster Street and saw an open spot, I jumped at it. I completed the most beautiful parallel parking job you've ever seen. And I leaped out of my car and practically skipped to my building. Needless to say, I obviously left a few brain cells at home in my rush, because the reason why I was able to secure such a prime spot this morning was that there was NO PARKING ON THAT SIDE OF LANCASTER TODAY. So, when I left work at five and started my car, there was a lovely little note from my friendly neighborhood parking enforcement officer. So, yeah, that sucks.

The worst part is that I shell out $45 a month for a spot in a garage that's located two blocks from my building, and which I had to wait for over two years to get. Come on, don't look at me that way.

Wasting Away

Did you ever notice that your level of hunger is inversely proportional to the amount of food in the fridge? My stomach is rubbing against my spine, and all I've got is milk, eggs, green beans, a chunk of asiago, and a bunch of cilantro. And not enough energy to create something delicious using those ingredients. Maybe if I close my eyes and wish with all my might, something scrumptious will appear in the icebox. Heading to the kitchen now - wish me luck.

The Limit Has Left The Building

I can't believe it's happened. It's taken seven years, but it actually happened. My husband has turned me into a girl. I am no longer capable of sitting through and enjoying any sporting event that happens to be on television. Not even if it's in HD.

Now, this may not seem like a big deal to you, but it's a goddamn huge deal to me. See, I've always been that girl. The cool girl who knew all the positions on a baseball team, understood the penalty signals on the football field, and who could accurately call a foul in a basketball game. The girl who hollered at the refs when they blew a call, who screamed obscentities at the TV screen every time Barry Bonds's face flashed across it, and who would happily walk through the rain, under a highway overpass, and through the ghetto just to attend a fucking Jaguars game. Throw in the ability to make a mean batch of Schaller's hot sauce, change a tire, and tolerate a subscription to Playboy, and you've got a pretty nice catch (if I do say so myself).

But everyone has her limit. Don't get me wrong, I still love, LOVE, sports, and I still love to watch them on TV. But I'm so over being forced to sit through every round of golf, every tennis match, every inning of every meaningless Mets-Pirates game, and every snap featuring the previously mentioned Tom Brady (ha ha, loser!). I'd estimate that approximately 60% of what we watch in the Kolby house is sports, and these days the other 30% is filled with political commentary and old M.A.S.H episodes. And Mr. Kolby doesn't get it. He doesn't understand why my sighs have gotten significantly louder, or why I've taken to watching Discovery Health and Whose Wedding Is It Anyway? in the bedroom.

So, yeah, I will never get over March Madness, college bowl games, the World Series or the Super Bowl, but I have GOT to find something else to do in the buildup to those events. Something constructive. Maybe a hobby.

Suggestions?