Chocolate To Make You Cry Out In The Night

There are three types of people in the world:

People who burn for chocolate, any chocolate
People who couldn’t be bothered with chocolate . . . at all
People who can only choke it down if it’s fine, divine chocolate fit only for royalty and humans of inhumanly superior virtue.

I fall into the latter category and tend toward the middle category.

As chocolate goes, I can take it or leave it, and usually leave it. Rarely, if ever do I crave it. When choosing a flavor of cake, I usually go straight for pie, fruit pie, NEVER CUSTARD OR PUDDING.

Ahh rhubarb, how do I love thee, let me count the ways . . .

I like my sweets to be a step above chocolate in their perfection.

So.

I have found the exception to the rule. Actually, my totally clever and beautiful sister found the exception to the rule. There is a chocolatier in Vermont who makes a chocolate bar that is so freaking good; I do not want to know a world without it. These awesome folks run Laughing Moon Chocolates. I don’t know anything of their products beyond their Chipotle & Cinnamon Dark Chocolate bar. Do yourself a favor and order one, no matter what the cost to ship it to the far corners of this blue planet. When it arrives, open a lovely Merlot, have a bit of both, and wait to be overtaken by a bliss that words are too ham-fisted to describe. Seriously, it rivals dirty, filthy, sex that leaves you gasping and moaning out loud in public with the memory of it the next day.

You are welcome.

P.P.S.

I've been meaning to get cought up with comments. That will be one of my Sunday adventures. With any luck, I'll be able to post something of greater substance than the past few days.

Here's hoping.

P.S.

I nearly forgot to post today . . . Oh, the horror!

Gratuitous Confession

Confession: I loves me some country music. NEVER pop country! However, I can't get enough of some fine ol' honkey tonkin' goodness. There, I've said it. Don't judge me!

Will This Week Ever End???

Confession: I need a drink. Is half past ten in the morning too early?

GAH!!

Instead of regaling y'all with tall tales of my misadventures I'll show you this:

Method 1 Excedances for VOCs - one or more of:

1,1-dichloroethane, 1,2,4-trichlorobenzene, 1,2-dichlorobenzene, 1,3-dichlorobenzene, 1,4-dichlorobenzene, 2-butanone (MEK), acetone, benzene, bromomethane, chlorobenzene, ethyl benzene, naphthalene[1], toluene, trans-1,2-dichloroetene, trichloroethene, xylene, [1,1,1,2-tetrachloroethane, 1,1,2,2-tetrachloroethane, 1,1,2-trichloroethene, 1,1-dichloroethene, 1,2-dichloroethane, 1,2-dichloropropane, bromodichloromethane, bromoform, carbon tetrachloride, chloroform, cis-1,2-dichloroethene, dibromochloromethane, dichloromethane, ethylene dibromide, hexachlorobutadiene, methyl isobutyl ketone (MIBK), styrene, tetrachloroethene, vinyl chloride]*

* ½ detection limit exceeds standard

[1] 1,2,4 trichlorobenzene, 1,2,3 trichlorobenzene, naphthalene, and several other SVOCs are all standard analytes under the EPA VOC Method 8260b. Although both EPA Method 8260b and EPA Method 8270c report valid results for these chemicals, they are discussed as VOCs in this report to avoid redundancy.

When I'm not in the business of regaling, the above is what I write. I bet you all want to dust off your resumes and get a job doing what I do for slowly killing my soul a living.

Slipping Into Madness. . .

This has been one of those days when I just want to quit. Freaking everything. I'm already fantasizing about the beautiful sleep I'll be getting on my Simmons Beautyrest Enchantment Plush Pillow Top. It is my new bed, it is my new buoy.

A bunch of stuff I set up at the office to get done so that everything would be on track upon my return were supremely fucked up by:

a) my analytical lab

b) FedEx

c) one of my drilling subcontractors

d) a property owner of a site I manage

e) the demanding God damned nature of my boss (Umm, Fresh, that project I gave you the middle of last week is not progressing as quickly as I'd like it to . . . Umm, I was out of town since then, Fucker!) . Lovely to have that off my chest.

As promised, a collection from the Great Tejas Adventure of November 2007.

Speaking of chest, remember how Miss M mentioned that hers was HUGE? Here's proof:



Sista is busty!

And as I'm sure you were all waiting to see . . . I'm coming out to you, my loves. I sang at the top of my lungs, and this is what it looked like:



I couldn't tell if the red-eye reducer made me more scary looking than the red eyes were to begin with.

And singing from the bottom of my lungs:

The next day wasn't nearly as pretty. I'm sure you're surprised.

This guy was crocked too, and a totally fantastic dancer with an exceptional sense of style.

He also was on the barfing merry-go-round come morning. It was funny to watch. Especially since I wasn't the morning after barfing girl.

I'll finish with a little of what we gazed at on the drive home:

Yeah, Texas gives good sky.

Never Leave Home

Because you may come back to chaos and floods.

Upon return to my humble abode:

1) The key to the front entry way to my apartment building no longer works.

2) My front door is locked, but the lock on my front door to which I have a key no longer exists. (The back door lock still works . . . phwew!)

3) The apartment above mine had a catastrophic leak and water came cascading down from the light fixture in my bedroom directly on to my bed and soaking through to the downstairs apartment. My bed is gone.

Shortly, my landlord will be coming over to take me to pick out a brand new bed. I should be furious, but I can not seem to stop laughing about it.

Will get Texas pictures up soon.

Morning Pork

I'd like to introduce you to my post nuptial hangover . . .

Hey Y'all.

I got to nurse a drunk scientist who had interminable hiccups. Miss M saw that she executed the pre-emptive strike . . . thus, emptying her stomach. She's all about paying it forward.

There was an open bar that had a seemingly endless river of bourbon, the headwaters of which I was trying to discover. (unwise errand, thanks for asking)

The DJ played inexcusible things like "You Shook Me" by AC/DC. I told him I'd dance if he got his shit together and played "I Want You to Want Me" by Cheap trick. It took him a while, but he got it together and I did some dancing while singing at the top of my lungs: feelin' all alone without a friend, you know you feel like dyin'. Oh didn't I didn't I didn't I see you cryin'! There are pictures. The redneck yayhoo busted out some Prince as well which as always makes it impossible to do anything but dance.

Miss M here - It's going to be a loooooooooooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng post-IHOP drive this morning. Lucky for us an the rest of the world, we're not amateur drinkers anymore. Things could be a lot worse. Where'd we leave the car again? Fresh Hell encouraged me to wear my little black dress. Good thinking since I was all foxy in that get up. However, my sha-na-na-knockers were pretty much out there for the world (read conservative suburban Dallas types) to see. I am forever immortalized as 'that loose canon with the big knockers' in a variety of candid AC/DC-dancing photos. I hate her.

I'm so gonna have a side of bacon.

Tyler, Texas

This is the sad product of me forgetting to bring along my camera to Ginny's Little Longhorn Saloon. Camera phones are just not any good for taking indoor/night pictures. The fleeting 30 second video clip I recorded on the camera phone was not much better.


We spent far too long on the road today. Instead of heading over to the saloon for Chickenshit Bingo tonight, we will be jumping in the shower to wash the road scum off us and put our sauciest outfits for the wedding. Yes, we shall be showering together. It will put a subtle air of naughtiness on us for the ceremony. Won't that be festive?

Miss M here - Said blog authtress is full of it. I am far too much of a woman for her and furthermore she is not my type AT ALL. Aside from scrubbibg too hard with the wash cloth , er, rag, she's become an east coast erudite, which is tragic and nauseating. Talking all about the North End and all *blek*. Sure, I'll probably get way too drunk and go ahead and stick my tongue down her throat later, but that will be merely a testemonial to the bottomless glass and the booze that fills it - y'all!