Holy Alton Brown, Batman!

Today's post is not going to be even remotely crabby. Just a warning. (I know, some of you find it hard to believe that I do have a pleasant piece of cartilage in my body, but I do. Tomorrow I'll go back to being the totally obnoxious bitch you all know and love.)


This started out as a pretty decent day. I got the heat to work in my office (but wore my long underwear just to be safe) and by the end of the day, I was actually almost too warm. (I know!) I worked an hour late, and didn't even mind, and listened to really good old radio programs as I worked. My hair even cooperated without the ceramic iron today. In all, not a bad deal.



And then I got home.

And what do I spy as I walk through our cluttered sun porch? A box. From Amazon.com. With MY name on it. This is a major surprise, because I haven't ordered anything from them this year. I am perplexed. I am positive it's not actually for me. (I mean, why would it be?) I ask my brother if he ordered anything, and he said he did- so I told him to open it- thinking it was just a glitch. Lo and behold- it wasn't. He hands me this pretty little pale green parcel and tells me it really is mine.

Ok, at this point, my mind is racing- who in the name of all that is holy bothered to send me something from Amazon? It couldn't be FBD, because she doesn't have my address (and wouldn't send me something anyway), couldn't be G. Monkey, couldn't be current boss. (Mind you, all of this stuff is going through my mind as I'm trying to rip of the 7 inch thick shrinkwrap they use.) Finally I get to the card, which reads

"To: June Cleaver
From:Capitalist Pig
As requested... and with the ulterior motive of getting to stuff my face the next time I cross the pond... Have a happy & a merry and all that."

And I proceed to pass out.

The Capitalist Pig is my (not so evil, for now, but I reserve the right to change the evilness level as I see fit) Libertarian friend from Norway (who has impeccable taste in music, if not politics). We met approximately 4.5 billion years ago, in a chatroom, and have mercilessly tormented each other ever since. He enjoys pointing out what he calls my "latent Republican tendencies" toward sewing, knitting and baking, while ridiculing my pants-wetting liberalness. I enjoy calling him a Reagan-loving capitalist bastard. It's a good thing.

Of course, I never actually expected anyone to buy me anything I've wheedled about (and I do not expect it now either) on this blog- the fact that people read it is enough, honest. But when I tore off the pretty green wrapping paper (saving the real, fabric ribbon!) and saw my very own copy of "I'm Just Here For More Food" I nearly passed out again.

I am an elated, and very thankful Sauce today. I'm even going to bake cookies from the book, and NOT poison them, to send to my Norwegian Capitalist, and attempt to thank him properly. (and lest you worry, he's known my address for years, and has not-as yet- tried to kill me, Huzzah.) And yes, Aton, you did manage to make my black, shrivelled little heart swell some today. It's the nicest surprise I've had in a very long time. (And if my email didn't get through to you, please let me know)

Now, ya Republican Infidel, ya could leave a comment in here every once in a while. Memphis Word Nerd won't bite, I swear.

This ends the sweet, and exuberant portion of today's posting. Tune in tomorrow when the psychotic ranting begins anew.

(and THANK YOU!!!)