Of course we didn't have just one cake at our wedding, we had another cake, a number of tortes and other deserts too. I made the kransekake and Lars made all of the wonderful tortes. We like our sweets.

We are visiting my parent's this weekend, which is why we finally ate the cake out of their freezer. Not a romantic weekend, but we are taking another vacation next month to celebrate our anniversary (when we could get the reservation to an old guard station cabin).

Today we went to The Scoop and had some yummy Brain Freeze ice cream. We sat outside and enjoyed our "high fat, high quality" creamy goodness and watched people walking by (yes, some people in Spokane do walk) and a dog sitting by the table next to us and it felt like Portland. It was maybe the best ice cream we have ever had, and we have eaten a lot of ice cream.

]]> http://emealsforyou.wordpress.com/?p=435 Fri, 05 Sep 2008 13:41:27 +0000 emealsforyou http://emealsforyou.wordpress.com/?p=435 [/caption]

Even people who actually plan meals for a living hit the wall sometimes.  I say this not to justify my current brain freeze but to say, "It's all right to not be able to decide on what to make for dinner."  After several weeks... seems like months... of planning special meals for friends and family I find myself all "cooked out".  This is not to say we didn't enjoy the company; just that we are no different from anyone else... the dreaded Planning Fatigue has set in.

It is precisely for these occasional timeouts that I try to keep some of the basics around: chicken breast in the freezer, along with some homemade soups and sauces; salads in the frig and of course I can always turn towards my endless supply of frozen desserts to make an ordinary meal better.  And yes, we do burgers, we are not effete snobs who always have special meals.  That said there is no excuse to give up on a meal and just throw it on the plate.  Try to have a couple of comfort and comfortable meals in your repertoire that you can turn to when the "freeze" hits.  Sorry, I don't count Mac and Cheese as a staple.

So here is my GO TO meal, it is quick, easy, cheap, make that not expensive, restaurant-quality and your family will love it.

I have. I did. Today.

Actually, I've been having lots of those days lately, and to make matters worse, it doesn't end when I stop my day job. With SNL looming on the horizon, household duties and other ministries requiring my time, my mind has become a jumbled mess of thoughts vying for attention and action.

Normally I do a good job of carefully categorizing those thoughts and knocking the action items off the list, but tonight my brain refused to cooperate. It took a break without my permission.

Still I tried to force it into action. There's too much to be done. I can't afford the luxury of another night off -- for goodness sakes, I had a break this weekend. Shouldn't that be enough? Apparently not.

Even writing this blog is requiring more effort than normal, so I'm giving up for the evening, going to bed and hoping that tomorrow is a better day.

Yes, remember me, the one who was all: "Oh, I'm learning so much Spanish," "Oh, I can speak so much more now than I could before."  Remember?  Yeah.  How the mighty have fallen.

Had my first post-Mexico Skype lesson tonight ... and I suck!  I haven't even been back a full four days and I've already lost whatever ability I seemed to have last week?  How sad.  How very, very sad.

Ok, yes, I spoke.  I even used the preterite and imperfect tenses (and even used them correctly a few times).  But then I tried to get fancy and throw in a present perfect or two, and that was the start of the terrible downward slide.  No, I wasn't expecting to get online tonight and talk like a Mexicana, but I thought I'd acquit myself a little more impressively.  Andrés and Marisol would have been shocked to hear me.  I'm shocked to hear me.  [sigh]

Mostly I'm shocked by how shy I was to say anything at all, how much I was tempted to just talk in English.  What was that about?

Here's hoping I'm a little less tongue-tied when I have my lesson with Gustavo on Friday!

Delivered in 1973, the talks were transcribed for a book, but in it Bernstein insists "The pages that follow were written not to be read, but listened to," really an endorsement of the video edition. The talks are, in fact, performances. Television was always kind to Bernstein; he had magnetism and knew how to use it. To illustrate various points in his analyses, he plays the piano frequently, sings occasionally, and conducts significant works of key composers: Mozart, Beethoven, Berlioz, Wagner, Ravel, Debussy, Ives, Mahler, and Stravinsky.

Bernstein traces the development of music from its origins to the 20th-century struggle between tonality (championed notably by Stravinsky) and atonalism (represented mainly by Schoenberg). The last two talks, devoted to these composers, are particularly enlightening, but all six are outstanding. He argues persuasively that humans are born with an ability to grasp musical forms, and that rules of musical syntax are rooted in nature--in mathematically measurable relations between tones and overtones.

These talks are a key document. They coincide chronologically, as cause and/or symptom, with the movement of America's leading composers back from Schoenbergian forms toward a tonal orientation. Bernstein predicts and promotes this movement, which is still in progress. He is clearly an advocate of tonality, but he discusses atonal music with sympathy and understanding. --Joe McLellan

The Unanswered Question - Six Talks at Harvard by Leonard Bernstein is available at Amazon for $99.99. To Order click here
Amazon Product Pages contain a lot of other details on this product as Customer Reviews, Sales Ranking, Special Offers, Alternate products that customers are going for and much more.Want to read these details? click here

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Other Products of Interest

• Leonard Bernstein - Young People's Concerts / New York Philharmonic
• The Leonard Bernstein Concert Boxed Set
• The Unanswered Question: Six Talks at Harvard (The Charles Eliot Norton Lectures)
• The Making of West Side Story - Leonard Bernstein
• The Joy of Music Leonard Bernstein

Yet I find myself desperately trying (and failing epically) to bring down my body temperature. All I have acheived so far is brain freeze, and that numb throbbing ache you get from frostbite - in my mouth. And my stomach.

I was like this at work on Saturday. Shauna was close to killing me at one point because we were sharing a pint of iced water, and I kept eating the ice cubes, much to her irritance. I can't help it. I just hate being so hot. I don't like it because its a sticky kind of dry heat that leaves you begging for water, if not enough to swim in, enough to cool yourself down. I think the ice has cooled my brain down though because I am processing my thoughts very slowly and I have the same dizziness I get when I drink a pint of cider too quickly. I am also shivering. Brilliant.

It seems that today is one of those days where my body temperature is going to be at either one extreme or the other. At least the clouds have covered the sun so I am no longer hiding behind my curtain like a vampire. Damn this bloody country. I am at the extreme where I now crave warmth so I think I ate too much ice. I am going to go and do some poi to warm up. Though, I will be replacing the brain freeze ache with muscle ache and bruises. I already have one on my elbow from work on saturday, which hurts like hell. Still, it's worth it.

We also had a set of hippie dolls. They weren't marketed that way, exactly, but that's definitely what they were: Peace, Love, Harmony and Soul in their mini, pucci-print dresses and knee-high boots. "Soul," of course, was the black doll. She was like 'Valerie' from Josie and the Pussycats. And in our games, we definitely assigned her that role: the smart one, the 'Velma' of the gang. Fox had both the Sunshine and Happy Family doll sets. And we both had those giant Barbie heads that you could do hairstyles on, with the hair that would grow out of and be sucked back into a whole in the top of the head. We had the "Chrissy" version -- the black girl. One of my first dolls was Holly. She was about two feet tall with blinking eyes and could walk with you if you held her hand ... and she was black.

It was clearly very important for our parents to give us dolls who looked at least a little bit like us. We had other dolls, of course, but it wasn't unusual for us to have black dolls, and we liked them as much as the others, and sometimes more than the others. (I kept Holly until about ten years ago.)

I know Fox and my casual acceptance of black dolls isn't true for all black girls. Take a look at A Girl Like Me, Kiri Davis' excellent film short:

It made me smile, made me sad, made me angry. In some ways, I have been all the girls in the film. It's so fitting that the end credits run over images of girls getting their hair 'relaxed,' 'ironed,' braided. Hair is so loaded for black women. It's really only since I cut off my perm and started wearing my hair natural that I began to get past the identity/image issues that the young women talk about on camera. And I was a girl who would have 'passed' the doll test, and the issues were still there, dominant-culture bias still infected and affected me.  I wonder how all of this is affecting T.  She has any number of dolls that do and don't look like her.  She has an unfathomably powerful level of self-esteem, and I want to think that's enough to help her sail past this garbage.  I hope I'm right.

Funding news came out on July 1st. We got one of the grants we applied for, and that's really great. It will give us money to strengthen our health careers education and training program. It's good news, and I'm glad the State chose us.

We didn't, however, receive either of the other two grants we had applied for. And what that means is that about 400 people who are expecting to enroll in classes in September are going to be out of luck. It means is that I'm going to have to tell a lot of people they are out of work. It means I'm going to have a program much smaller than the one I was running just last month. It means it took me until the middle of this week to figure out how to maintain my own salary (after some soul-searching about taking a massive pay cut so I could hold onto one more instructor).

Our program will survive. And we'll rebuild, we'll seek new funding and start to work our way back to our current size and strength. But this hurts more than I can say. And the pink-slip conversations start tomorrow.

So, by now everyone's seen this:

I woke up to talk about this on the radio. Couldn't wait to get to work and look it up to see for myself. It couldn't have been as bad as it sounded ...

Obviously, as a bitter, angry, vengeful black woman, I take offense at this. How else can I react? I have to angry about something all the time, right? Or maybe I'm just jealous that this pic of Michelle's fro is nicer than mine.  (And can I just point out that Mrs. Obama straightens her hair. She would have to cut it off and let it grow out for a few years before she could create a 'do like the one on this cover. Oh, I know that's hardly the point, but it is, too. Could white people ever finally get a clue about black hair?)

Oh, yeah, I have teh Angry Black Woman Syndrome big time.

AJ Plaid in a post over at Racialicious caught my eye on this one, but you can find posts about it all over the place. I don't have any words. I'm just too disgusted.

Here it is 7/11 and I didn't even think to get you a card!  In honor of 7/11, the good folks at the convenience store of the same name are celebrating Slurpee Day and offering FREE SLURPEE!!!  My kids, just like their father was years ago, are mental for Slurpee.  Here are a few Slurpee fun facts that I found to be fascinating....

I am walking in downtown Brooklyn. I pass a man reading a newspaper as he waits for the bus. He gives me the once-over. "Ooh, baby, I could tear that ass up!"

Um ... what? I mean ... WHAT?! This is your idea of a come-on? Is that really supposed to attract me?

I am wearing headphones, so I decide to pretend I haven't heard him.

◊ ◊ ◊

I am walking up the stairs after leaving the N-train and I pass a young man as I hit street level. He licks his lips and gestures toward me with his chin. "Mamí, I would rip that pussy apart."

◊ ◊ ◊

Thursday at the year-end open mic at my night job the second place winner in the poetry contest read her poem to loud shouts of approval from the audience. Most of it's unprintable enough to make me blush. Then she got to this couplet:

"You say, 'Girl, I can make that pussy bleed,'/As if a broken pussy is something I need."

Exactly. How is it that this is the new thing? That men think there might be something thrilling for women in the offer of violent, damaging sex?

This isn't the time when I'm going to talk about street harassment. This isn't where I detail all the ways this is frightening and offensive. This isn't the time for me to point out that these men can't even handle the pretense that they are talking to another person: "that ass," "that pussy," with eyes never raised high enough to acknowledge that an actual whole woman is involved. This isn't that time. No. This is my Public Service Announcement. Here is where I talk directly to the harassers.

What are you thinking? I can't imagine the result you are aiming for when you offer to rip apart or tear up any part of a woman's body. Trust me: no woman is turned on by this. No woman gets that weak, swirly, heavy-pulse feeling at the thought of being raped by you.

It seems unlikely that you are actually thinking you'll come away from these two-second encounters with a phone number or a date. Women, after all, mostly know better than that. No, it's much more likely that your sole interest is in letting us know how little you see us as people, how we exist only as sex toys for your violent pleasure.

All the same, be careful. I'm sure there is someone somewhere in town who cares about you, who worries about you, who would be sad and distraught to have you come home bloodied and maimed because you offered violence to a stranger on the street and she met you with violence. Think of your friends and family. Think of your nose, your teeth, your beautifully prominent cheek bones. Think of your woefully small and neglected penis and testicles.

Just. Think.

Keep your mouth shut.

Keep walking.

We'll do the same.

◊ ◊ ◊

We now return to our regularly scheduled blogging.

Ah, summertime, that time of the year, when everything blooms, it grows, spreads out, a time of plenty, and weed-whackers! This has to be a tool invented by Satan himself; this is the worst tool in my backyard warriors’ arsenal and the most irritating and frustrating invention known to man.

What do you get if you take the DNA and Stem Cells of a billy goat, and mix them with those of a Politician?

You get a weed-eater that will not work!

Been meaning to say something about this all week, just got jammed up and didn't get around to it.  For all you A-Political types that simply cannot get enough of this garbage, here is the latest. Obammer has his own seal now.

This guy is not only building castles in the sky, he is living in them.

This new seal is very similar to the seal that Shorty uses when he gets in front of the podium to illustrate to the American people that even a door-stop can talk. (IE; "You know, one of the hardest parts of my job is to connect Iraq to the war on terror."—Interview with CBS News, Washington D.C., Sept. 6, 2006)

As for “replicated presidential seals” the general rule seems to be this. If you can’t make it good, make it big. And if you can’t make it big, make it blue. And if you cannot make it big and blue, just make it bigger than Bush’s which by the way, is the real deal, not this phony crap. (this has to be the absolute stoopidest thing I have heard of or seen this year)

This makes me like him even less …. You can draw your own conclusions here.  I now understand, having realized that this might have not been a "smooth move" on their part, they are no longer using this bogus seal and it has been put away.  Another skeleton for the political closet.

With the recent announcement that the air in Okie City is no longer fit to breathe, I have come up with a novel solution to the problem. It came to me the other day while sucking on a Big Slurpy at 7-11 and an apparent Brain Freeze. We can make our own oxygen. Why not, it is now possible to make your own ethanol, why not air?

Why go to the country for fresh air when you can get it at home. Like a cross between a space suit and an indoor garden, the greenhouse helmet fits securely over a persons entire head and at the same time, allowing enough space, to have a small potted plant inside with you.

We could give it some kind of catchy phrase like “The Okie Transparent Dome” or something like that. It would collect the carbon dioxide exhaled by it’s user; the plant inside (right off you left ear) would then convert this to oxygen, which is what all plants do. Now before you try this, I have found out conclusively that it doesn’t produce enough oxygen to support life, so don’t try this at home with a plastic bag or a fishbowl with a plant. It still needs a little bit of tweaking at this time.

A Miami-Dade County man has been charged with practicing medicine illegally at parties where women take shots of silicone to make their butts bigger.

The Florida Department of Health announced the arrest Thursday of Anthony Donnell Solomon for the unlicensed practice of a health care profession. Investigators said they learned Solomon was providing cosmetic procedures for women at so-called "pumping parties" in May.

Authorities set up a fake party at a hotel and arranged for Solomon to attend. Investigators said he was arrested after he agreed to inject an undercover detective. It was not clear if he had an attorney.

Why try and improve on a perfect image anyway, a lot of things in life, stand on their own.

Now in Oklahoma we do it a lot differently, you just go to your favorite rib joint and order the special. We just let nature do it naturally around here. As I am once again, borderline PC on this, one more thing and we will move on.

When your wife looks at you and says, “Honey, do you think these pants make my butt look big?” the correct answer is “NO.”  Do not under any circumstances reply with, “Oh baby, I just luv your fat thighs.” That will get you Tuna Fish sandwiches and nothing more for supper for at least three days.

000

RELATED: Tuna Fish

Little girls play with dolls and therefore practice and cultivate their mothering skills. Girls are taught to cook, sew, and express their emotions. Little boys are rarely encouraged to do any of the same, least of all play with dolls. But imagine if they were? Forget any battle of the sexes or the idiotic notion that boys playing with dolls would "turn them gay", but really think of the potential benefits a boy could gain from such behaviour...

1. A man would know how to hold a baby - Cradling/holding a newborn seems to always be an awkward moment for men.

2. A man would know how to rock a baby - Women seem to tap into this inherit rhythm that is difficult for men to do.

3. A man would know how to change a diaper - A lesson that only seems to come up for men once they are in prenatal class.

4. A man would know how to dress a baby - One can't help feel sorry for the infant when, for the first time, a man is trying to get the baby's head into a onesie.

5. A man would know how to speak soothingly to a baby - This is a tone that no man has any prior opportunity to learn.

There are no parenting courses geared towards men. Considering the emphasis society places on the family unit AND the important roles fathers play ... why aren't there any parenting classes for men specifically?!

Watching Hubby the first few weeks with our new little one literally had me in tears. I didn't know how to help him help her, I struggled to give him a fair chance, and I really needed a break. I assumed he would know or learn quickly how to deal by watching me, but unfortunately he did not start off with the same experiences or knowledge that I have, and there are things that come so naturally to women that are entirely foreign to men. Fortunately he is doing better now and he's continuing to learn. It's slow going, but he perseveres and I'm quite lucky he cares so much. He knows he's at a great disadvantage, but he's doing his best and I adore him for it.

If we ever have a son, I will teach our boy to sew, cook, cry, talk about his feelings, listen, and most of all, I will encourage him to play with dolls.

So, I seem to have found an amazing place to eat at. Bread People. Absolutely amazing eggs. I would have to say that they have the best eggs in Karachi. Of course this does not include the rapidly ageing eggs of my friend RW who says that she has the best eggs in Karachi. Despite being exceptionally opinionated and judgemental, the only reason why I choose to say this exceptionally diplomatic thing this is to avoid the inevitable post blogging argument with her. Back to non human eggs. Bread People on Khayaban e Ittihad is absolutely good at making eggs.

I went with friends and decided to try their chili omelette. For all of you reading this, the basic requirement of your life should be to try this as soon as possible because it is the most delectable item on the face of the planet and you will love me all the more for this. Coming back to non human eggs I ordered lemon slush with the chili omelette.

Amazing combination.

Ten minutes into the egg. I decided that I need something cold to brush away the chili flavour. Like any normal human being, which usually I am not, I took a large swig of the slush. I was already suffereing with my mouth burning due to the chili. And I started feeling it. It was coming on. I knew that it was going to happen. And I couldnt do anything. I had to try to stop it. But I could feel is grow slowly and gradually, it started from my ear lobes and spread to my head. Brain freeze. It took two seconds, but to me it felt like an age.

Shocked, battered and reeling I decided to eat something hot immediately. To mitigate the effects of the oncoming brain freeze. I took two large bites of the chili omelette. Fuck. Too spicy. My tongue was killing me because it was so fucking spicy. Like any brain dead imbecilic human being, I took another slug of the lemon slush. Fuck. Too cold. Another jet of brain freeze.

Chili Omelette. Lemon Slush. Chili Omelette. Lemon Slush. Fuck. Fuck me! Why the fuck do I act like a fucking brain dead automaton when I have a brain, the ability to use it, and the ability to understand that I need to stop this spiralling vicious circle of pain and stupidity. But it didnt work out that way.

I am such a fucking idiot. Who in their right mind would do the same thing. No one. So Ladies and Gentlemen, I take a bow. For I am Jalal.

Wow!   

I'm a little scared now.  But should I be?  Well, apparently if you are prone to migraines, drinking super cold drinks like slushes, slurpees, and shakes is not a good idea.  Apparently the extreme cold hitting the roof of your mouth sends the wrong signal to ye olde brain, saying, "It's cold! Crank the heat man!" and as blood rushes to the area - voila!  Insta headache.  I have always called them ice-cream headaches.  I think my mother probably referred to them as "that's-what-you-get-for-eating-like-a-pig-headaches."  Yeah, so that's true.

While I don't know about the heart attack part (although far be it from me to suggest that I have ANY medical expertise) I plan to be a little more careful when enjoying my drink on the way home from Sonic.  Can you just see it?  "Oh, sorry for rear-ending your car ma'am.  I blacked out from a brain freeze from this here grape creamslush."  Yeah, right. 

This situation with the old man and the Sonic drink happened in Kansas which kind of makes it funnier.  We are a unique section of the country indeed. 

I know I won't be able to articulate this in a way that makes sense but... i can't get over this "Brain Freeze". 

There is way too much going on and I am completely overwhelmed. I don't like to speak or write unless I feel free to say or write exactly what it is I want to say.  I just can't do that right now.

Ok. Enough of that. Obviously, some of my mood persists. But not really though. That's just the lingering sore spot from people never being able to tell (or accept) when I'm angry or cranky. I'm so often the zen-calm girl, people think that's who I am all the time.

Besides, when I walked into class, all the sour drained away. If I needed any proof that teaching is the right work for me ...

≈ ≈ ≈ ≈ ≈

This morning on my way to work, everything got slammed into perspective. The bus was having a hard time getting down the last block before my stop. The driver was honking and honking. The other passengers were getting vocally annoyed. And then we saw the hold-up: an over-sized SUV double-parked on the left ... a group of police officers standing around a dead man on the sidewalk. I tried to tell myself the man was just injured, just unconscious, that the sheet over his torso and legs was about keeping him warm. Then an officer pulled up the sheet to cover the man's head. No more question there.

I've been pretty lucky in my life, and -- outside of funerals where it's a given -- I have never seen a dead person, certainly not a person caught in such a death, in that personal and private moment out in public. Yes, I've seen photographs, but I try to avoid those. There is something obscene in looking at photos of the dead. And, too, it's incredibly disturbing for me, and the images stay with me much too long.

So I looked away ... but I was the only person on the bus who did. Everyone else rushed to the windows to get a better look. I looked away from the man, but not from the people surrounding him. That was when I was able to move away from my shock at what we were seeing, and on to my It's a Wonderful Life moment: the sudden rush of relief, of appreciation for my own life, of the fact that yesterday might have been miserable, but I'm still here today to do something different, to have a better day, to play with my cats and get ready for K's wedding tomorrow. I'm here. What a lucky thing.

But then there was anger, too. That man was so vulnerable, his dignity stripped on some level, and that upset me. All the police officers were standing over him chatting, bored, not even looking at him, one of them chewing gum, on his cell phone. There was a young woman with a reporter's notebook smiling up at the officers, tip-toeing over the body, getting one of the men to pull back the sheet so she could look at the dead man's face. it felt ugly somehow, wrong. I know. They're all just doing their jobs. What else to I expect them to do? I know. But still.

Who was that man? What happened to him that he would wind up there, on a pretty Park Slope Street, stretched across the sidewalk in front of someone's stoop, dead? Was that his house he was in front of? Was someone waiting for him somewhere, expecting him to walk into a room across town only to get an awful call from the police? Why was it this morning? Why was it him lying there and not any one of us?

Hillary Clinton reportedly lent her campaign $6.4 million over the past month. Clinton then took an additional $8 million and flushed it directly down the toilet.

Barack Obama said Thursday that John McCain was “losing his bearings” when he suggested the terrorist group Hamas preferred Obama for president. In response, McCain accused Obama of ageism in a strong statement issued to a row of hedges.

On Thursday Myanmar's military regime finally permitted the first major international aid shipment for victims of the cyclone disaster to enter the country. Unfortunately, the shipments were on American Airlines and ended up in Pittsburgh.

Horse racing fans continue to mourn the death of Kentucky Derby runnerup Eight Belles, who was put down after breaking both front ankles during the race. Racing fans are still upset about the tragedy, especially those who had put a thousand bucks down that she’d only break one ankle.

Seventy-five students were arrested Tuesday as part of a drug bust at San Diego State University. Police began to suspect the students of possessing drugs when they found out they were in college.

In his newly published memoirs, former JFK aide Ted Sorensen has admitted that he wrote a large part of the late president’s Pulitzer-Prize winning book, “Profiles in Courage.” Added Ted Kennedy: "Sorenson was always a big help to the Kennedys. For example - he was the one driving that day in Chappaquiddick. Yeah! And he also raped that waitress in Palm Beach. And whatever you may have heard - he's the one who doesn’t weah pants!"

Tom Hanks is auctioning off the chance to act in a performance of “The Taming of the Shrew” to benefit Shakespeare Festival/LA. Meanwhile, Peter Scolari is auctioning off a dress from “Bosom Buddies” so he can pay his rent.

“Family Guy” creator Seth McFarlane has signed a new deal with Fox worth over one hundred million dollars. McFarlane remarked that the new deal reminded of the time Ralph Malph came over in a pirate costume juggling tuna sandwiches while I was playing Frogger, and then asked for a million dollars.

Organizers of the annual Jammy Awards, which celebrates the music of jam bands, have announced that last Wednesday's ceremony would be the last. However, the ceremony will not be over for another five or six months.

Country music singer Gretchen Wilson, who dropped out of school in ninth grade, earned her GED last week. As a result, Wilson is now the most highly educated person in country music history.

A woman in New Hampshire faces second degree murder charges after she ran down a Red Sox fan who was taunting her by chanting “Yankees suck!” The prosecutor assigned to the case plans to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the woman is guilty, because the Yankees do, in fact, suck.

A seven year old bald eagle will have an artificial beak attached to replace one that had been shot off. Since the eagle doesn't have health insurance, the full cost of the procedure will be put on her bill.

A new study shows that consumers in Britain throw out over a third of the food they buy. Experts believe this is mostly because they are buying British food.

In Iowa, a blind 78 year old man bowled a perfect 300 game this past week. At least, that's what everyone told him.

A Catholic priest who had sex with two inmates while working at a women's prison was sentenced last week to two years in federal prison. In his defense, the priest claims he only had sex with the women because there were no children available.

A new study shows that children who were breastfed for at least three months had better intelligence scores later in life than those who received formula. That is, unless the children received the quadratic formula.

And finally, Irvine Robbins, co-founder of the Baskin-Robbins ice cream chain, died Monday at the age of 90. The coroner's report reveals that the cause of death was brain freeze.

...

ahhh soulagement... toute la chaleur du monde qui quitte mon foutu corps...
Maintenant je peux mourir heureux!
ET BANG!! Un coup de fusil bien visé entre les deux yeux!
C'est le damné BRAIN FREEZE!!!!

Hmmm les brains freeze... Ça apparaît toujours dans les moments où on goûte la vie à pleine cellule gustative...

On crois détester ça, mais dans le fond, il y a quelque chose dans le brain freeze de plaisant, voir même rassurant...

Ou peut-être que c'est moins qui aurait de légère tendance maso? hum...

(violence gratuite, miam!)

-Pis, tu t'en sors-tu depuis qu'elle t'a laissé?

-Pas vraiment, j'en suis rendu au brain freeze pour oublier mes angoisses

-Bah... au moins, t'as pas épouser un pamplemousse...

-PL-