azurelunatic: DW: my eloquence cannot be captured in 140 chars (twitter)
Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 ([personal profile] azurelunatic) wrote2011-12-12 11:55 pm
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43 tweets for 2011-12-12

In the last 24 hours, I posted the following to Twitter:


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[personal profile] owl 2011-12-13 10:48 am (UTC)(link)
The US IT industry pays overtime at the moment? I assume this bill is meant to apply to people on hourly wage, or else the salaried people I work with are keeping quiet about their overtime cos we don't get any...
azurelunatic: Vivid pink Alaskan wild rose. (Default)

[personal profile] azurelunatic 2011-12-13 11:38 am (UTC)(link)
It looks like hourly.

I've never been salaried. Then, I've also never been above the pay rate that they describe there.
azurelunatic: Vivid pink Alaskan wild rose. (Default)

[personal profile] azurelunatic 2013-09-23 05:52 am (UTC)(link)
JD may be coming to pick me up. We shall see.

I am all discombobufied. I hate the effects that adrenaline has on my cognitive stack.

Note to self: ping tt re: Marta.

2nd person is the thing for Yuletide.



You have been waiting for this. @harto has been hinting at a special episode to come, and a different kind of special than the Thanksgiving one. Which was cute, you have to give her that.

You eagerly wait for the YouTube page to load.

Hannah's smiling face appears, beaming, with two other smiling women in matching white netting miniature veils and rainbow feather boas. Fast cuts between a series of poses intercut to resemble shots from a photo booth. The familiar piano music plays, and then the "My Drunk Kitchen" title card's letters curl into sight.

"On this very --" Hannah starts, and the frame jumps as she retries. This is a very special--" A champagne cork blows behind her head.

"Bachelorette party," she concludes.

Both the bachelorettes, who Hannah introduces as Lila and Monique, smile into the webcam under Hannah's approving gaze.

"My friends are getting married next week," Hannah tells you, trying for serious and hitting seriously drunk.

"What makes a wedding?" she asks. "Weddings are important. Love. Family. No H8! Drinking." She winks and a glass of champagne appears in her hand. "Wedding cake."

You have a sudden idea where this is headed.

"Wedding cake," you whisper as Hannah toasts the webcam and announces "Cake."

Oh wow.

You watch in fascination as Hannah gathers the components she thinks are needed to construct a wedding cake, with the help of the giggling bachelorettes. There are now three empty champagne bottles lined up on the counter. You have lost count of the number of popping corks you have heard.

"Wedding dresses are usually white," Hannah tells you. Red wine stains. Fact!" One of the bachelorettes tips the last of a bottle of champagne half into her partner's cup, and half all over her white shirt. "Champagne comes out," Hannah tells you, and them. The bachelorette re-appears in someone's spare t-shirt. It's a good color on her.

"Wedding cake is magical," Hannah says. "A wedding is the most special day." The bachelorettes look at each other fondly and kiss.

"A cake has ... a recipe!" Hannah says triumphantly, and leans close to the laptop, clearly looking on the internet. "A wedding cake is perfect."

Someone has clearly now defined "cream" to her, because she explains: "It turns out that cream means mix until all the lumps are gone from your shit. Who has that kind of time? But. Wedding. Perfect."

She and the bachelorettes take turns. "Does that look crammed?" she asks. "Creamed," she corrects.

A few seconds later in video time, she shows the bowl to the camera. That shit has been creamed. Crammed. Whichever. The stand mixer stands lonely and proud, totally unused, in the background. It is just as well. As drunk as these ladies are, a serious mixer could cause a serious injury.

"Next, open the champagne," Hannah instructs.

"How are we out of champagne?"

"Next, you open your backup wine. It is important to match the wine to your clothes."

The bachelorette still in white holds up a glass of white wine. The bachelorette in purple holds up red wine. "Cheers!"

"Next, eggs."

A hand rescues a falling bottle before it spills all over the laptop.

"Clean as you go!" Hannah says brightly, mopping up the shards of eggshell and yolk with a paper towel. "Have enough eggs."

"Why do we have no more eggs?" she yells.

"You can use hard-boiled eggs if necessary," she advises. Chips of eggshell appear on a plate in stop-motion, then disappear and the gleaming and gelatinous hard boiled egg is there. Oh god. You are riveted. Nauseated, but riveted.

"Be sure to mix your eggs in completely," she says.

A few clips of dishes dropped and a glass of wine later, Hannah has produced the sort of olive-green blender that must either have been bought in the 70s or from a thrift shop.

"When it is hard to mix by hand, you can use the blender," she says, and the whole mess goes in.

A few notes of a theme song you could swear you recognize play over the sound of the whizzing blender. You finally place it as the "will it blend" theme song when she pours the glop back into the bowl. The raw eggs in the mix have frothed up nicely, although the hardboiled egg has given it a sickly and uneven color.

Hannah and the bachelorettes look at it in sort of a mixed horror and amazement. Hannah rallies. "Vanilla!" she says brightly, pouring a dollop in. You can only hope it masks the flavor.

"If you don't have vanilla, you can use whiskey or rum," Hannah says confidentially. She shows the labels of bottles of both and pours generous slugs in. Even better.

"This is supposed to be an easy recipe," Hannah says, face in the laptop again. Her hat is askew, her face very pink. "Is that stuff baking soda or baking powder?" Fortunately, before anything can get too extreme, a bachelorette locates a jar of actual baking powder, preventing another ill-advised substitution.
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