peachyteachy

For realsies

Rage of the No-Bake Cookies March 21, 2015

I was so pissed tonight when I went to make No-Bake Chocolate Oatmeal Cookies, aka Cowpies, aka Pooper Cookies, —and there was almost no sugar! In a fit of rage,  I wrote “SUGAR” in Sharpie ink, many times, on the grocery list.  Then I told the dog to shut up. What the fuck is so hard about putting words on the damned grocery list? This is, after all, the definition of a sin of omission. A Seven Deadly Sin of Omission.

There is no question that this is disproportionate rage. I suspect that there may be hormones prodding at me with sharpened mini-spears, but then I think about the dismissal that accompanies hormone-related rage, and that just pisses me off more.  I am a good time today, for sure.  Then someone messes with my chocolate therapy.

As I was ascending the stairway, laptop in hand, I was asked if I was “going up?” No, I thought, I am going down in a massive fireball, and if you dare to make a comment about “going down,” you are going to experience post-fireball nuclear winter of biblical proportions.

I believe that I fall into the category of “peri-menopausal,” which means that I get the menopaus-ish crap AND the PMS-ish terrorism, only twice as often. This probably is why going to work on Mondays feels like the Bataan Death March (in addition to the fact that I am a teacher, and therefore responsible for the Pipeline to Prison}.  But, dude, don’t say a word about the hormones, because the result will be that I will, as the youngsters say, cut you.

I’m a good time, in case I didn’t mention it, or you missed it. .

I make up for it by making nice treats for the fam.   Unless someone has used up the sugar and failed to utilize the list that could be  employed  by a lobotomized chimpanzee.

For those of you who do keep the most basic of ingredients on hand, here’s the recipe!

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/katie-lee/no-bake-cow-pile-cookies.html

image: http://thebestcookierecipes.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/peanut-butter-oatmeal-no-bake-cookie-recipe.jpg

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Northeastern Easter Fashion Report April 22, 2014

Filed under: fashion,girl stuff,holiday,humor,Style,Uncategorized — peachyteachy @ 2:13 pm
Tags: ,

No, that’s not Kanye’s next baby name.

Easter fashion has always been an entity unto itself.

I recall a certain purple gingham maxi dress I wore one Easter when I was eight or so. Then there are those I-dare-you- to-wear-me deranged Easter bonnets. I hold that the purpose of these is to provide ample nesting materials for local bird life.

This year, I was struck by nothing so much as the pastel floral number worn by a lovely young lady whose parents I hope were far, far away.  Because this is the stuff of cardiac events.

Daughter in question chose to celebrate the resurrection of her personal lord and savior (or possibly the end of Passover? Larry Flynt’s birthday?) by sporting the always appropriate vagina-length stretch dress.

At what point, I mused while trying to come up with a sentence I could say out loud that did not contain the  term “vagina-length dress,” did she become comfortable wearing said hemline? Probably best that I never learn.  Though I am toying with a scenario where the girl is a rebelling Amish-ette, taking things just a bit too far…or not far enough.

I do feel that my experience could give rise to one of those helpful questions one might ask oneself while shopping, dressing, or contemplating cutting off part of a dress: “Will anyone look at me and think ‘vagina-length?'”

And, while you’re at it, say a prayer for my computer. It doesn’t know what the hell to wear.

 

 

 

Cop-out Gifts From Gentlemen to Ladies November 28, 2013

Filed under: fashion,girl stuff,humor,music,Style — peachyteachy @ 7:59 pm
Tags: , ,

Fragrance purchases are the lamest of the lame of the stuff that guys cop out and buy for their ladies.  I have never spoken to one woman friend who expressed a desire to receive fragrance.  Incidentally, guys, they don’t want lingerie in a size too small, either.

It pisses me off that I can’t understand fragrance commercials. The Katy Perry one? “Killer Queen?” If Freddie Mercury showed up, singing the song from the grave, a la that puzzling ad for Dior where Charlize Theron chums it up with Grace Kelly and Marilyn Monroe—if that happened, THAT would give it some street cred.  Am I really supposed to buy this empowerment message, that Katy is so free when she cuts off her corset (oh, wait–she kept the corset. Cuz it’s hot.)?

The problem is that these ads are all shot through the most male heterosexual lens possible.  Thus the absence of Freddie Mercury, in all his gay and brilliant glory. 

Just know, guys, that a gift card to anywhere that is not a grocery store or a vacuum cleaner dealer is gonna get you more game than a damned overpriced bottle of perfume.  Face it; so many people these days have asthma and can’t deal with smelling stuff anyway.

The exception to this rule: if you are eight years old and you pick out perfume from Rite Aid for your mommy.  You are golden.  Come to think of it, perhaps this is why men think that cologne is the ticket for getting that special reaction.  That’s sweet.  But that ship has sailed, Skippy.

Image: http://queenrockband.blogspot.com/2013/05/freddie-mercury-freddie-mercury-muses.html

 

Girl Stuff–Gentlemen, Read At Your Own Risk August 15, 2012

Filed under: girl stuff,humor — peachyteachy @ 9:48 pm
Tags: , , ,

There’s nothing quite like your GYN inquiring as to whether you still have your regular visits from “Aunt Flo” to make  you feel young and spritely. Fan-frickin-tastic.

I am riding on a couple of stellar days (no reference to the Perseids, of which I viewed zero).  My big kid left for his senior year of college, AND I got to visit my above-mentioned doc, so that I can check “girl stuff” off the list of severe, flesh-eating conditions that I may discover are coursing through my body on any given 3:30 in the a.m. It’s what I like to refer to, affectionately, as an Ibu-day. You can insert your pain relief of choice to personalize it, if you like.

As the workplace Candy Ma’am, I dole out ibuprofen by the handful, and my coworkers are well aware of my cycles, as evidenced by my face taking on a look similar to our pretend migraine sufferer here.  Also by my “special little purse” that hovers precariously close to qualifying as a fanny pack (horrors).  It’s so discreet there–my colleague with the voice that carries approximately the length of a football field is perfectly cool with hollering at me from the copy room, “Hey, Peachy, you got your period? I see you have  your little purse!”  Why, YES, I DO, friend, and yes, I do, young male student walking by on his way to the bathroom, and thank you for asking! This year, we have to get way more professional, and go with the Aunt Flo code.

Take your time winding down, summer. Take your time.

Image: unifiedhealthgroup.com

 

 
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