I obviously renewed my account. Huzzah! Contact me to find out where to send congratulatory gifts of Sarris Chocolate-Covered Pretzels.
The sad, cold truth of the matter is I'm addicted to chocolate-covered pretzels. Anyone who sends me said food will become my friend for life, however, they will also be an enabler.
Actually, I'm pretty sure no one here knows me. I'm not all that outgoing, either, probably because of my low self-esteem.
In person, I'm very awkward, or at least I'm pretty sure I am. I'm tallish, and sometimes I like being tall, but sometimes I would kill to be 5'4" or something. I have Marfan's Syndrome, which makes your arms and legs longer than average, among other attributes. Not freakishly so, I'm not ape-like or anything, I'm just kind of gangly. I never really figured out what to do with my longer legs and arms. When I sit down at a table or desk, I think I look like a parent sitting at their childs desk on Parent Night.
So I had all that working for the overall awkward thing, and then, four years ago, a car I was riding in flipped over, and I broke my back. For a while I had to walk with a cane, which did not help my mission NOT to be awkward. Then, last summer, I had more than a foot and a half of my spine fused together.
I HAVE THE COOLEST SCAR EVER. 99% OF OTHER SCARS COWER AT THE SIGHT OF IT.
However, not being able to bend anywhere other than my hips or rotate my upper body has only further contributed to - you guessed it - the awkwardness.
I am a bad-ass, though, so I've got that going for me, which is nice.
Today I had to wait around my apartment until the mailman came, because I had to sign for a letter. To be more specific, a cheque. To bring all sorts of outrageous levels of specificness to this story, the settlement cheque won from the lawsuit against the driver of the car that flipped, breaking my back.
It was substantial, but I just feel weird saying exactly how much it was for. Let's just leave it at this: I'm certainly not a millionaire, but if I invest the vast majority wisely, I could maybe buy a nice house when I'm ready to, which is something that's amazing to say.
I'd rather have a spine with separate, nicely-shaped vertebrae, though.
Anyway, as soon as the cheque got here, I had to sign it and then trek downtown (I don't drive, so I support PATransit like whoa) to get it to my attorney before her office closed. To pass the time, I decided to bake some cookies, but right before it was time to add the walnuts and chocolate chips, the cheque arrived. I figured I'd just add the chips and nuts, cover the bowl with cling film, stick it in the fridge and bake the cookies when I got home.
HOWEVER . . . I was gone longer than I expected, and all the butter in the recipe had hardened in the cold, and the dough was SO STIFF.
I started to take it out of the fridge so that it could thaw on the counter, but then I remembered the raw eggs and became all confused. If I let dough sit out for two or so hours in a warmish kitchen, would the eggs get all disgusting and grow dangerous salmonella germs? And if they did, would it be a moot point once they were baked for 14 minutes in a 375 F oven?
I'm still not sure about this, and the dough is still in my fridge, so if you know what to do, let me know.
Fun Fact: One of my biggest pet peeves is people who say "shite", "arse", "feck" and say "me" for "my".
The sad, cold truth of the matter is I'm addicted to chocolate-covered pretzels. Anyone who sends me said food will become my friend for life, however, they will also be an enabler.
Actually, I'm pretty sure no one here knows me. I'm not all that outgoing, either, probably because of my low self-esteem.
In person, I'm very awkward, or at least I'm pretty sure I am. I'm tallish, and sometimes I like being tall, but sometimes I would kill to be 5'4" or something. I have Marfan's Syndrome, which makes your arms and legs longer than average, among other attributes. Not freakishly so, I'm not ape-like or anything, I'm just kind of gangly. I never really figured out what to do with my longer legs and arms. When I sit down at a table or desk, I think I look like a parent sitting at their childs desk on Parent Night.
So I had all that working for the overall awkward thing, and then, four years ago, a car I was riding in flipped over, and I broke my back. For a while I had to walk with a cane, which did not help my mission NOT to be awkward. Then, last summer, I had more than a foot and a half of my spine fused together.
I HAVE THE COOLEST SCAR EVER. 99% OF OTHER SCARS COWER AT THE SIGHT OF IT.
However, not being able to bend anywhere other than my hips or rotate my upper body has only further contributed to - you guessed it - the awkwardness.
I am a bad-ass, though, so I've got that going for me, which is nice.
Today I had to wait around my apartment until the mailman came, because I had to sign for a letter. To be more specific, a cheque. To bring all sorts of outrageous levels of specificness to this story, the settlement cheque won from the lawsuit against the driver of the car that flipped, breaking my back.
It was substantial, but I just feel weird saying exactly how much it was for. Let's just leave it at this: I'm certainly not a millionaire, but if I invest the vast majority wisely, I could maybe buy a nice house when I'm ready to, which is something that's amazing to say.
I'd rather have a spine with separate, nicely-shaped vertebrae, though.
Anyway, as soon as the cheque got here, I had to sign it and then trek downtown (I don't drive, so I support PATransit like whoa) to get it to my attorney before her office closed. To pass the time, I decided to bake some cookies, but right before it was time to add the walnuts and chocolate chips, the cheque arrived. I figured I'd just add the chips and nuts, cover the bowl with cling film, stick it in the fridge and bake the cookies when I got home.
HOWEVER . . . I was gone longer than I expected, and all the butter in the recipe had hardened in the cold, and the dough was SO STIFF.
I started to take it out of the fridge so that it could thaw on the counter, but then I remembered the raw eggs and became all confused. If I let dough sit out for two or so hours in a warmish kitchen, would the eggs get all disgusting and grow dangerous salmonella germs? And if they did, would it be a moot point once they were baked for 14 minutes in a 375 F oven?
I'm still not sure about this, and the dough is still in my fridge, so if you know what to do, let me know.
Fun Fact: One of my biggest pet peeves is people who say "shite", "arse", "feck" and say "me" for "my".