Delusions of Grandeur

Oh I had all those delusions of grandeur. I was going to spend spring break perusing all of your blogs, leaving snappy little comments and wishing you happy spring solstice.  But I am failing miserably.  I am a sucky blogging friend.  Witty means never having to say you’re sorry. But I am, really.

Instead, Itty Bitty Consulting chief bottle washer was a slave to life in the work zone. The company that interviews me endlessly continues to have me do contract work. But they are like jealous boyfriends, all sad and spurned when I have other client meet and greets.  Where are you going, when will you be back, are you kissing any other consultants? Any spare time I had I spent writing fancy assed papers on the Ethical Protocols for Maintaining Social Equity, 20 pages of bullshit frankly. But the end of the spring session is almost over and then one semester until I hop, skip and jump to that shiny abet pricy degree.  

I did manage to have a ladies wine hook up with Bebe and Miss Anonymous this week in a cold dark wine cellar.  It’s the oddest place, neon yellow drive in liquor store, but a secret magic cellar that you have to crawl over crates of Budweiser to get to. I may have even had to shove a few Clydesdale out of the way. Three late forties ladies on the town drinking real wine, restraining ourselves from adding ice cubes because by golly we’re sophisticated like that.  We scurried off to a dark corner with plush couches after carefully inspecting for any inappropriate stains. If I have to explain this to you, this is not the blog you think it is.

But some young pup thought we were cougars on the prowl.  Don Juan had spotted our giddy golden girls and sauntered over with his imagined good looks.  El Boyo slightly tipsy from the beer tap, plopped down on the couch between Bebe and me.  Separating her from the herd like a limping gazelle.  Run Bambi Run!!!!!  After expressing shock and amazement that we were indeed old enough to be his mommy, that our children were actually older than him. That shit, we had underwear older than him he starting oversharing how he spends his free time as a bar bouncer and a MMA fighter.  MMA? Mommy Makes Arousal? Icky boy, move along or I’ll blog about you.

This week I went to my favorite shopping hood Trader Joe’s . We won’t discuss how I went after a riding lesson in my attractive riding britches with green horse slime down my shirt and helmet head. Instead I will share the recipe from the free samples.

Rigatoni with Artichokes in Goat Cheese Sauce

½ pound Rigatoni pasta cooked

1 can artichoke hearts drained and quartered

1 package TJ’s Chevre Goat Cheese with Kalamta Olives

1 cup heavy cream

Salt and pepper to taste

In large pan over medium heat combine the heavy cream with the goat cheese. Stir until cheese starts to melt and then add artichoke hearts. When everything is heated through, add pasta and toss to combine.

The problem with Bebe is she is too polite. When our new snuggle bunny offered us a little sip of his flavor of the month beer. I rudely declined while Bebe caved to his peer pressure and took a taste. What are you thinking? At the very least I’m sure he’s been licking toads for a cheap high our something.  Perhaps it was the Stockholm syndrome. At least we can reassure ourselves that we still look better than the plaintiffs on Judge Judy. Happy week Team Tuna. 

Almost Famous

I am almost famous. In a pathetic attempt to fulfill my self-gratification and increase my follower count, I sent an email to the nationally syndicated Cosmo Radio show, Wake Up with Taylor. I had heard my boyfriend Curtis Stone was going to be a captive, um guest in the studio. Not only did she read my email to her listeners, but the entire swooning post about my snuggly little Australian koala bear. I am now convinced we’re BFF’s even if I have to make her my hostage and lock her in the crawl space of my attic for my own pleasure and amusement.

So let’s do a little comparative analysis between Taylor, the little cup of espresso and Mrs. Tuna shall we? I’m certainly not a fashionistas as we all know. Sh*t, I’m happy if my pants are long enough since I’m eleventy feet tall not to expose my ankles. 

• She’s all cool and hip in her trendy high waisted pants. I aim for high waisted in order to hold back my muffin top. I wear control top panty hose most of the time, sometimes even under my slacks.

• She recommends a cute flirty scarf to dress up any outfit and lift your winter doldrums. I wear a scarf to hide the massive wrinkles on my turkey neck. If I had one piece of advice for my 20 year old self it would be to wear more sunblock on my décolletage.

• She tantalizes her listeners with fluorescent color blocked shoes. I don’t even know what that means. Besides Payless, the only other shoes I know are Louis Vuitton and that’s because the Pope wears them. We all know he’s a bit of a fashion diva.

Taylor is always talking about how her size 4 clothes are a little too tight, I haven’t worn a size four since I was actually 4 to tell the truth.  I’ve just decided to embrace my tubbiness, so here is this week’s fattening recipe, join me on the dark side.

NY Times Macaroni and Cheese

2 Tablespoons of Butter

1 cup Cottage Cheese

2 cups Whole Milk

1 teaspoon dry mustard

1 pinch cayenne pepper

1 pinch nutmeg

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon pepper

1 pound shredded cheddar cheese

½ pound elbow macaroni, uncooked (yes uncooked)

Heat oven to 375 degrees, grease casserole dish with butter. In blender, puree cottage cheese, milk, mustard, cayenne, nutmeg, salt and pepper. Reserve ¼ cup cheese. Combine rest of cheese, milk mixture and uncooked pasta. Pour into prepared pan, cover tightly with foil and bake for 30 minutes. Uncover pan, stir, sprinkle remaining cheese and cook uncovered another 30 minutes.

Taylor and her partner in crime Kenny are ridiculously funny. In comparison, Mrs. Tuna is practically in a chronic vegetative state.  After she glorified me on her radio show several of you left comments or sent me thinly veiled jealous emails to congratulate me.  It makes me realize that I picked a preposterously long web page name.  Who knew two years ago that anyone besides my Sistah would read it? I’m happy to report that “Mrs. Tuna” comes up in the Numero Uno”  spot on Google search.

The question becomes, how can I get her to mention me every week? Or better, every day on her show? Well I guess when I bring breakfast to her jail cell in my attic she’ll be happy to promote this little blog to stardom for a little extra bacon. Eggs over easy Cosmo?

P. S. A little housekeeping Team Tuna. MOV told me about a newfangled Google gadget to sign up for email notifications for these nearly famous posts so you never miss my words of wit. Additionally, my "Like" counts on Facebook are sad and pitiful, help a sister out and like me over there too. 

Man Down!!!

Hello? Is there anybody out there? Someone stopping by this sadly neglected little blog? The place I had been faithfully posting every week until now? Well Team Tuna, I’m currently sucking  at writing. But all for good reason. Itty Bitty has been showing signs of life. I’m racing around selling my mad skills like a bona fide wack a doodle.  Additionally, the company that endlessly interviews me is having me do contract stuff. Was it my charm? No, it’s because they are under the gun to impress a new patron who I’ve done a few previous projects for.  Desperate times call for desperate measures. 

Higher education and self-employment are definitely cutting into having any darn fun.  But being the resourceful chick I am, I discovered across the street from campus lurks the perfect place  to meet Miss Anonymous for beer and fried food between my Urban Popsicles Procedures and Planning Ethics for Dummies class.   Who can even tell if I’m tipsy in class, by the time the freaking three hour class is over I no longer need that darn designated driver.  Maybe I haven’t written because the last few weeks I’ve been working like 50 hours a week and still taking SEVENTEEN freaking credit so I haven’t cooked either. My fantasy if I had any time would be to make a fancy assed dinner.

Lime-Garlic Pork Roast

This is a multi stop project that actually goes really quick on the grill. The first step is to brine the pork loins to make them really juicy and tender.

Brine Mixture

½ cup kosher salt

½ cup sugar

Dissolve salt and sugar in a large bowl with about 6 cups of water. Submerge pork loins in brine and let stand for 45 minutes. Rise pork well and pat dry.

3 tablespoons olive oil

Juice from two limes

2 cloves garlic minced

1 teaspoon dried thyme.

Run brined tenderloins all over with the olive oil, dab with garlic, squeeze lime juice over top and sprinkle with thyme.Heat gas grill to high for 10 to 15 minutes, reduce heat to medium. Place pork on grill rotating every  7 minutes for approximately 20-25 minutes or until the instant read thermometer reads 145 degrees.

Since I have fifteen cents to rub together and the Big Tuna’s gave me generous Christmas gift of riding lessons I’ve been treating myself to a little bit of equine time.  Usually I ride like a little spider monkey, riding those bucking broncos with no worries. Sue the Sadist decided I could ride Widow Maker. But  I got my assed bucked off last weekend. As I lay flat on my back gasping for air I thought f*ck, I’m too old for this sh*t.  As the spectators sauntered over to help me up, one queried if she should remove my helmet. Ah, no. Who wants to face the new nurse at the Christopher Reeves center with hat head?  


I had a huge slice of skin off my nose, hanging by a thread. Ewwwww, I had to drive home holding a tissue to the wound until I could get to a more sanitary place to snip off.  Heavens, I wouldn’t want to cut if off with the same barn scissors that I cut dirty horse bandages and mats with.  Crud, I could only find Kung Fu Panda Band-Aids.  Why haven’t they invented a roll cage for this sport? All I can say is Buck Off!!! 


Have a great week peeps and don’t forget to “Like” Mrs. Tuna to help heal my pain. 

Epic Fail!!!

Mrs. Tuna is too busy with Itty Bitty Consulting and watching students sleep in the library. (This is an actual student who passed out next to me 10 minutes ago) Please don't hate me. I promises a new and exciting post this weekend!!!!!!! No recipe, just take yourselves out to a fancy dinner and toast your good fortune.

Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner

That darn Gene Pool Diva tricked me when I wandered away from my laptop and snuck an award under the doormat. That little sneak gave me the Versatile Blogger honor. I’m afraid to not pass it on, like those f*cking chain letters. I apologize in advance to those of you who have successfully dodged the bullet until now. Welcome to the dark side of blogging. 

You have to cough up seven interesting facts about yourself to share with the masses.  Since those of you who have been trolling this site know I share just about everything, including last week’s post where I confessed to using a maxipad to blot up coffee, who knows what ugly confessions might arise.

• I was a vegetarian during high school and the first few years of marriage. It’s not because I’m anti beef eating, it’s a texture thing.  One little grisly beef makes me gag. That’s why ground beef is okay because it’s pre-chewed.  
• I discovered at age 15 when I was on the horse show circuit that if you drink beer through a straw it makes you drunk faster.   Nothing worse than a bunch of teens and free range alcohol.
• My mom once woke me up while driving on Rout 287 because we were skidding on black ice and just wanted to tell me goodbye in case she didn’t gain control of the car in time.  Explaining why I now live in a climate where it never ever snows.
• I grew two inches taller after I got married, raising me to the attractive height of eleventy feet tall. This of course is because I was eight when I got married.  
• I will not ever use the phrase “New Boyfriend Syndrome”.  I notice this is the term du jour at ASU the semester.  If I hear one more girl say her BFF is neglecting her for a new boy toy I will absolutely scream. Man up so to speak and find your own damn amusement.
• Vietnamese food will never pass my lips again . Several years ago, Sheldon and I got the worst case of food poisoning EVER. I was so puny I lay on the bathroom floor praying  for the Big Tuna to drive back 3 hours from the dunes just to bring me a glass of water. Bad cat or something I’m sure.
• Final confession, this is a recipe blog. No, really, it is. Just read between the lines.  In honor of Charlie Sheen this week is a celebration of all things chicken.

Mexican Chicken Salad

2 cups diced cooked chicken

¼ cup sour cream

¼ cup mayo

½ cup  onion finely chopped

¼ cup finely chopped carrots

2 tablespoons chopped cilantro

Juice of ½ lime

2 tablespoons capers

2 tablespoons  pimento chopped

½ teaspoon cumin

½ teaspoon oregano

Lettuce leaves

2 avocados cut in wedges

2 hard boiled eggs quartered

Paprika

Toss all ingredients except lettuce, avocado, eggs and paprika. Sever salad on lettuce, garnish with avocado and egg. Sprinkle with paprika.

And here are my top 15 Team Tuna  members. Oh, and don’t sulk if you weren’t picked, maybe I picked you before and maybe I love you too much.

Mothers of Brothers

The Zadge at Blue Skies and Yellow Dogs

Meg at the Members Lounge

The Defiant Marshmallow 

Val at Unbagging the Cats

Making Mommy Go Something Something

Martyr-hood

Amazing Australian Adventures

The Crazy Life of a Writing Mom

The Loaded Handgun

The Ginja Ninja

Mark at Our Simple Lives

Kernut the Blond

Frogs in My Formula

Counterintuitivity

I was tricked last year too; you can read all about my true confessions here if you want more random Tuna facts.   Stop by and visit some of my favorite secret reading pleasures. Hopefully they are not composing their secret hate mail letters to me as we speak.  Shhhhhh….I’m hiding. 

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Office

I’m back in the grind with all those little candy assed kiddos at ASU. One week in and I’ve already had to drop one class that was supposed to be my “easy” class in Leadership. I mean I have mad guidance skill, I know how to use the carrot  and stick approach, I am the Grand Poobah of Leadership.  First quiz had questions like “A theory that identifies the essential behavior for a type of leader is best classified as prescriptive and universal, true or false?”  Say what Willis? Isn’t a universal prescriptive like legal marijuana or something? Yeah, we’re just moving on to History of Popsicles instead.

Itty Bitty Consulting is limping along but in order to get clients I have to get out to those meet and greets to drum up new business. I’ve been a bit of slacker, whipping on mascara and calling it good. Now it involves eye shadow and lip gloss and hairspray. That translates into starting the day with Full Frontal Makeup. I’ve also been struggling with work shoes, for some reason they all seem too big. I’ve certainly not lost an ounce of weight in the last three months.  Maybe the Big Tuna is a secret cross dresser, that would be a news flash after 30 years.

My new satellite office is housed in the front seat of my F150 truck.  Join me in the Sisterhood of the Traveling Office won’t you?  I feel like a freaking donkey lugging all my crap out.  Dora Explorer backpack with textbooks, laptop, briefcase, flat shoes for driving, high heels for meeting, snacks, water, lunch bag etc., etc. etc. I’m compelled to make it all in one trip. I’m not sure why, I am woman hear me roar?  I start my journey at the cheapest place for gasoline the little 4 pump Circle K at the end of the road. But WHY!!!! Pray tell, do you assholes pull up to the pump, text your all your buddies your plans for 10 minutes and THEN go inside to pay for gas. Maybe scrounging change from the floor dulls you to the extreme line of honking cars. F*ckers. Since we’re back to crazy schedules here’s an easy one for Team Tuna.

Easy Chicken Enchilada Skillet

1 Tablespoon oil

1 pound chicken  breasts cut into bite size pieces

1 can chicken broth

¼ cup ranch dressing

1 tablespoon flour

3 flour tortillas cut into small pieces

1 cup Mexican style shredded cheese

½ cup salsa

Heat oil in large deep skillet on medium heat. Add chicken and cook for 7 minutes or until cooked through stirring occasionally,. Mix broth, dressing and flour until well blended, gradually add to skillet, stirring constantly. Add tortillas, stir to combine. Bring to boil. Reduce to heat medium low, simmer 3 minutes. Spike with cheese and cover. Simmer 3 to 5 minutes or until cheese is melted. Top with salsa

Not having a steady job has resulted in wolfing down granola bars and yogurt between these faux work gatherings. I have been known to be slurp down a Dannon with a plastic fork for Pete’s sake. I tell myself it’s to keep my girlish figure but frankly I’m too cheap to treat lunch for your business.  But I will be happy to meet you at Starbucks and continue my little affair with the barista, Travis.  I’m back to overdosing on my toast colored lover.  And maybe I’m just a bit too jumpy with that extra  jolt. Multitasking in my new office has a few drawbacks, including spilling my java lover all over my lap. As I reached into the glove box praying for a few napkins to blot my skirt all I could find was a maxipad.  Let’s just say they really are absorbent and leave it at that shall we? Forget the Traveling Office I would have given my first born for a set of Traveling Underpants. 

Mothers of Brothers

Let’s face it Team Tuna, we all know I’m a sucker for free.  So when my new cyber stalking follower MOV at Mothersofbrothers offered to send me a copy of her book of humorous essays I beat back my seething out of control jealousy, er I mean I replied of course my little darling, I would adore to read it.  But she is a Virgo, the kind that embraces their self obsessions and unhealthy relationship with talking to inanimate objects in her house. Below are a few excerpts from our emails to emphasize our special quirky relationship.

Hi Tuna! (if this is indeed your real name, and your real email address, seems like a gmail account you just invented off the top of your head for the purpose of distracting would-be crazed fans/ stalkers)

Hey, if you didn't live so far away (I live in the DC area), I know you and I would be instant pals and go for starbucks or shopping and be horribly mistreated by snooty salesgirls who do not know why eyecream was invented and then we could gossip about aforementioned salesgirl and how one of us might just have to write a blog post about her and her attitude.  But alas, we do not live down the street.  But, lucky for me me, I discovered you and your delightful blog and I would LOVE to send you a freebie copy of my book because (dare I say) I think you are one of the few people who "gets" my wackadoodle sense of humor.  

So, Phase 2 of the email stalk-a-rama is please give me an address (can be a PO Box if, you know, the restraining order against me has not kicked in yet) or work address or neighbor address or whatever where I can mail the book to you.  

Oh, and your real name might be nice (said the woman who has kept her entire family's identity an ultra bloggy secret, as if I am the Kennedy Clan or Suri Cruise or some such).

Thanks, and Merry Christmas! 
-- 

Best,

MOV

Dear MOV,

One of my sister’s name is MOV, not my favorite sister but one of them. She's okay I guess. She was a bit of a tattle tale though. Great, nowI’m having a flashback to my youth. Oh I have multiple emails to keep my secret blogging life separate from my personal email I get from my in laws and my work search email and oh right, the new business email.  I just had a bottle of wine dropped off by FED EX for a review and it was actually addressed to me, aka Mrs. Tuna. 

Be happy to read, always like humor stuff. I wish I could figure out how to get my dumb blog published as a book. It goes to prove you are way smarter than me.

Update

Hey! Just wanted to let you know your book came in. Since I read like a 7 year old it will let you know when I get done. Have a great new year.

Dawn

Dear Tuna,

Yay!  (and what does that mean:  "read like a 7 year old"?  does that mean you have your head upside down draped off the couch while eating your leftover Christmas chocolate and watching re-runs of SpongeBob?  because if that's the case, we might need to have a chat.  And remember, the book arrived in a VIRGO SPECIAL ENVELOPE, i.e. a ziplock bag, to reduce those chocolatey fingerprints so you can sell the book to the Smithsonian later.  Something to think about.)

Hope you like it!!!!!  If you don't, let's never speak of it again.  If you do, feel free to say a one-sentence thing on your blog about it (Potential idea:  "MOV Is A Modern-Day Shakespeare" or "Most Talented New Author of the Universe: MOV", these are just examples).

best, 

MOV

Dear MOV,

7 year olds read 5 pages, wander off, and leave the book where the dog will chew it up. Apparently not your 7 year old since he's working on your taxes or writing his thesis on magic tricks for dummies like us. Okay. I'm on like page 75 and I am seething with jealousy. I hate you. You are way funnier than me and now I feel completely at a loss about what to write for my new year's resolutions so in comparison my writing skills suck. I could talk about not eating my young maybe, clearing my Tivo list. Or.......maybe I could get you to be a guest blogger. Can you get cracking, just be sure and include a receipe? It’s due tomorrow, maybe the Tall one can crank it out. 

Dawn

Mrs. Tuna

ohmygod, I totally want to be your guest blogger!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  this is such an honor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  are you serious???????????????

ok, so for the guest post, do you want me to write as you or as me?  and what is the topic?  I can write it or Tall can write it, oops, he's working on his Master's thesis right now so he does not have time.  

Let me know!  I seriously would LOVE to guest blog!!!!!

Wheeee!!!! MOV

So without further ado, I give you MOV, and if you want genuine belly laughs buy her “Mom’s Had a Rough Day”.

Strike Fear/ 365

There are eight lackluster words that, when strung together, strike fear deep in the core of any normal American male.  Those words are:  “I’m going to Target, where’s your credit card?”  I uttered those precise words yesterday morning while The Husband continued to pretend to be asleep.  “You know I have to go right when they open,” I prodded, while nervously looking at my watch (7:30 AM), “I can’t deal with crowds.” He knew he wouldn’t win this one, so he merely grunted, “My wallet is on the dresser.  Try to keep it under $100 this time …”

After more than a decade of marriage, I often suspected that he was mentally insane—this comment just confirmed it.  Is it even possible to walk out of Target without spending $100?  I was under the impression that they strategically placed their sales associates near the exit door to say, “You only spent $40 today?  Did you not get all the way back to Aisle 23 to look at the After-Christmas Sale items?”  As it turns out, I did happen to wander past Aisle 23, and was brutally assaulted by myriad bargains:  laser-cut felt ornaments in red, purple, and turquoise; wooden gingerbread men decorations; glass snowmen with black fuzzy hats; faux candy cane ornaments; and thick lustrous bronze-colored ribbon—all for 70% off.  These unnecessary items (and others!) just jumped into my ruby red cart when I wasn’t even looking.   

I stood in line at the check-out area, glanced at my scribbled list, and suddenly realized I forgot the one staple I actually drove over here for:  flour.  I momentarily toyed with the idea of not making cookies this weekend after all, but I had been craving them for days while my unhelpful cupboard had been mocking me (“Still no flour, dummy!”).  I had no choice:  I got out of line and high-tailed it over to the baking supplies. 

365 Cookies

·        1 stick butter (MUST be room temperature!  Get this out of the fridge right when you get up and place it on the counter)

·         ¼ cup granulated sugar

·         ½ cup brown sugar (should be soft and fresh, not all hardened like Santa’s arteries)

·         1 egg

·         2 teaspoons vanilla paste (I said paste)

·         1 cup flour

·         ¼ cup uncooked oatmeal (not instant)

·         ¾ cup Rice Krispies cereal

·         8-ounce bag of chocolate chips (you might not use whole bag)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees (I highly recommend you invest in an oven thermometer because most people’s ovens are slightly off by 10 or more degrees which is make it or break it in the world of baking).  Mix the first 5 ingredients in order (one-by-one) with a hand mixer until nice and fluffy.  When you get to the flour, do the first half with the hand mixer and then switch to a good old-fashioned wooden spoon.  All the rest of the ingredients need to be mixed with the spoon (no Kitchen Aid!).  Trust me on this.  Scoop out small glops of dough onto a good quality cookie sheet purchased from a high-end kitchen store.  Bake for 8 or 9 minutes.  Press on cookie with finger and the cookie should not be hard.  I tend to undercook my cookies because I like them a little bit softer in the middle the next day as opposed to cement-like.  Recipe makes about 24 diminutive cookies (not the super-sized cookies like they sell at the grocery store).      


The best part about these cookies is that people cannot figure out what makes them crunchy (the Rice Krispies).  They always assume there are nuts in the recipe.  This is obviously a great recipe for people with nut allergies that like a delicious cookie with some texture to it.  The name comes from my sons saying they could eat these cookies every day. 

My sons take turns scooping the dough out while I marvel at all my new ornaments that I have laid out on the dining room table, like a Christmas bazaar, and I wonder to myself when exactly I can get back to Target for my next fix. 

MOV