Little Black Book

May has been a whirlwind month as it is every year. It is a combination of Mommy’s Day, congratulating ourselves on another year of swapping Wedded spit while dancing around in my Birthday suit holding glasses of sangria.  What? Like you never do that.  The next gift opportunity isn’t until Christmas, a very, very, very long way away. Feel free to send me a little something to sustain me if you wish, I can be quite the sulker if not placated with random presents.

Combined with accepting a job with Endless Engineering, flogging those whiny students and Sheldon’s upcoming nuptials I am slacking at this blog.  Fortunately, Ms. Anonymous filled in last week and things are settling down so I am back at it. I have a tried and true method for keeping track of my friend’s and family’s faux pas in order to revisit in a more ummmmm…. sober state.  It’s my little book that I jot little notes for future blogging posts. Granted it’s paisley, not black, but you get the idea. Let’s crack that puppy open and share a few late happenings in Tunaville shall we?

I finished the semester strong, despite more of those f*cking group projects. Man how I hate them as a rule, but I had one particularly challenging team with whom I was handcuffed the entire semester. I got stuck with “the couple”. It was obvious he was there on an athletic rather than merit scholarship. More interested in lazy days doing the nasty then working on their share of our 100,000 page report.  

EVERYTHING uploaded 10 minutes before class overwriting other people belabored words.   This included the final PowerPoint presentation.   My overly vocal complaints were met by HER “Don’t you disrespect me.” Really, let’s talk about disrespect, it’s a noun, not a verb girlfriend.  If I was really disrespecting you I would have called you bitch.  

Peach Breakfast Shake

1 banana

1 cup orange juice

½ cup plain yogurt

1 cup frozen peaches.

Throw in the blender and whirl. Not as good as the Peach Sangria I drank with my Sistah and Bebe last week. But I’ve been on a feeding frenzy since my birthday bash and need to get back on the diet train.

In other news, Sheldon and the Brit’s wedding plans are moving along. Date set, dress bought and venue selected. My work here is done I believe.  I don’t remember my mom helping me with this stuff, I just blindly swam along.  Sheldon calls it delegation. But they are focused on the oddest things.

Sheldon:  Mama, why can’t we throw rice at the wedding?

Mrs. Tuna:  Because the rumor is that birds eating will explode, some stupid PETA thing.  How about bubbles?

Sheldon:  The Brit and I wear contacts, we don’t want it to get in our eyes.

Mrs. Tuna: As opposed to a giant piece of rice? Chica, I’ll just buy your safety goggles you’ll be fine.

Sheldon’s fiancé understands our little flower so well.  When explaining her nickname, he exclaimed that she was pedantic.  Pedantic? Can you use it in a sentence? Sheldon is pedantic.  I consider myself pretty smart but there is something about the British that makes me feel uncouth. Before you know it I will start saying things are super cute. My IQ is dropping daily

Good week Team Tuna!

Kittens Gone Wild

Sooo, Mrs. Tuna ask me to do a guest blog for her since she is slightly overwhelmed with the past few weeks of turning 50, getting a new job, flogging students for group projects and all that wedding planning. Since I am MUCH younger and will not turn 50 for another 50 days I said I would adore helping. 

Funny thing about writing this blog is I planned on putting it on word and sending it to Ms. Tuna for editing. It was then that I discovered that I do not even have Word on this computer. I have had this laptop for 7 months and never knew that. One would assume correctly that the extent of my computer use is now social media and stalking old high school boyfriends. Understand please that of the boys I dated in HS-95% are now gay. This is not a good average and I am not proud of this. Don't know if I turned them gay or I just liked handsome men.

Not sure how the new job thing is going. It involves engineering and when they start to talk about it I tend to zone out and mentally start my grocery list. I am quite content to be blissfully ignorant when it comes to civil engineering. Just make all the lights green when I am late for work. 

Her big birthday bash was great, awesome food as you can imagine. For some strange reason she got enough bottles of wine that she could open her own tacky dark wine cellar to lure 12 year old boys (or did you miss that blog?). FYI-she only drinks white so she will be re-gifting a lot of the extra reds. Me please!! And yes, I did see her add ice a few times but it is Arizona and chilled wine does not stay frosty long. The birthday party was a big occasion in Tuna town. She even went out clothes shopping which she hates to find "clothes that did not make her look fat" (she never looks fat btw).

Our nearly famous blogger has an extreme case of sticker shock about wedding venues. She has resorted to looking at settings like the Dog Park for the reception. I think her theory is that if she feeds them enough good food and wine that they won’t notice. Since I still have two kids to send away I am waiting to see how that works out. Bet she keeps some of the reds for that. 

Recently, someone left a gaggle of kittens on my porch and I knew surely no one else would bring her such an awesome half century gift. Guess I must have teased her a little too much because as of 5 minutes before the party was about to start I was still getting calls and texts threatening me with future  booze abandonment if I brought the little fur ball. Probably didn't help that Bebe brought her a gift wrapped litter box.

I did take a photo of Mrs. Tuna at the party that she actually likes. Makes her look thin and she is thrilled that she was not holding a hair ball hurler. Tastes like chicken she said.  Since the birthday party was actually on Cinco de Mayo and we are in Arizona I am going to share one of my favorite Mexican recipes. Not exactly authentic but I am a Caucasian.

Tortilla Flat:
2 can cream of chicken soup
2 (4 0z) cans of green chilies 
1 doz corn tortillas
1 large onion: diced
obscene amounts of grated cheese
cooked chicken or turkey

Mix the soup and chilies together. Lightly grease a large baking dish. Layer in this order:
Soup, tortillas, onion, cheese, meat, top with onion and cheese. Bake at 325 until bubbly and cheese is melted

Ms. Tuna will be back soon with lots of news to share now that she is older and more mature, about to be a mother in law and is now back at the slave market. Thanks for your patience!
Ms. Antonymous

Sheldon Plays the Cello

Lovely Sheldon sent me a photo someone took of her playing cello at their recent wedding causing me to wax nostalgic on her affair with her instrument. When she was in 4th grade, the junior high music program gave a hard pressed pitch to the little budding musicians for a bigger cello section. Surely, she’d want to play the sweet, portable violin? Or perhaps viola? But no, she dug her heels in because she wanted to be unique, like I should have seen that coming. This is the same girl who took French rather than handy Spanish living in a state that borders Mexico.

Entering the world where the leader waves a stick to keep the little ruffians in line was certainly a learning curve. Who knew that instruments came in sizes, half, three quarter and full? Or that they have to compete to be first chair? Or those private lessons are the norm? The most embarrassing part was that as unskilled classical music parents we were always clapping at the wrong place. If you’re new to the world, just because the music stops doesn’t mean they're done, it’s the end of a mooooooovement.

I had to upgrade to a pickup truck with a full size crew cab for Pete’s sake. Heaven forbid our new expensive baby rode in the bed unsecured by a seat beat. The plus of the bigger vehicle is it could also fit her stinking golf clubs. We were never so happy as when she got her own freaking car to cram her stuff in so we could actually put our own junk in the backseat. The first 500 concerts were painful squeaky affairs, but by the time they creep along to junior high you begin to almost enjoy it. I have to say she stuck with it and in her sophomore year began playing in the elite high school chamber orchestra.

Her talents did score her a trip to Russia to participate in a Music Festival in Saint Petersburg. As usual, I was focused on all the wrong stuff. The cello needed its own passport, too many snuck out of the country and we didn’t want Sheldon to be arrested by stealing a national treasure. The week before she went, eleventy zillion people froze to death in Moscow from the worst cold streak on record, but she refused to pack long underwear, it would involve too many panty lines under her concert skirt. And finally, St. Petersburg has some weird bacteria in the water, Europe’s answer to Montezuma’s revenge. The kids ended up fighting like Survivor contestants over fresh bananas. After having eaten smoked and freeze dried food, she begged us to make her favorite meal on her first night back.

Beef Stroganoff

1 pound beef stew meat

½ cup flour

Salt and Pepper to taste

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 cans beef consommé

1/2 cup sour cream

Combine flour, salt and pepper in a bowl. Dredge meat in flour mixture. Heat oil in large skillet, brown meat on all sides. Remove with slotted spoon to saucepan. Add consommé to sauce pan and cook for 20 minutes over medium heat covered. Add sour cream and cook until heated throughout. Do not boil. Serve over hot egg noodles.

I could end this blog by attaching an audio clip as the proud parent, instead, I will default to my usual mode and make fun of my little flower. Attached is a video of a little walk through the Russian snow, something we don’t get in sunny Arizona,  where Sheldon biffs out. Cause I’m sensitive like that.  Happy week Team Tuna!

Updated by request, actual music from when they were in Russia. Bear in mind this performance was by about twenty high school kids, 15 to 17 years old....

The Hot Chick

One……..more……..week. One more fricking week Team Tuna before the semester is over with those whiny ass little twerps at ASU. Man up for God’s sake. Write your portion of the mandatory group project and I will not have to pull the pants that hang off your ass over your head in an uncomfortable way.  The anti-joy of an Urban Planning degree is that it’s all about building consensus. My engineering brain can only put up with so much listening to your fancy ass ideas before I just take over and spend the rest of the time convincing you to do it my way. The right way, we all know it, just accept.

 But on the work front, Itty Bitty Consulting has turned me into the Hot Chick. So desirable and enticing with my mad technical skills. All the engineering firms want to date me.  The Endlessly Interviewing client seems to be turning into green-eyed boyfriends. I’ve been captive at their office for the last two months in the perpetual job interview. Where are you going, you’re our little prisoner, keeping me so busy I have no time to follow up on marketing leads or search for new clients.  The added bonus however is they also keep my lover Mr. Refrigerator and I separated and I’ve lost almost ten pounds over the last 8 weeks.

Last week I went to the major transportation conference in Tucson to do meet and greets. The goal was to recruit new members for one of the network organizations, pump up our numbers and take over the world via nerd power. Endlessly Interviewing Company got to see me in full networking action, promising me a full time job if I would just stop passing out my business cards within three hours of my arrival. Especially after I told them I had a phone interview scheduled for later that afternoon with a competitor for which I used my 1-900 voice and scored a face to face interview this week. This of course has not translated into a written offer,  just whispering sweet job promises in my ear as that is their MO.

Free registration, free food and more importantly free booze, which I was drinking on an empty stomach since I was too busy being a little social butterfly to wolf anything down. It was tough to keep my alter ego Mrs. Tuna in check. Best course of action was to go to bed at 8 PM to avoid table dancing and retelling previously posted blog stories including how maxi pads found in the glove box are great for absorbing free coffee.   In keeping with my Hot Chick persona this week’s fare will be nice and spicy.

Deviled Chicken and Peppers

Whole chicken cut up

16 ounce jar hot cherry peppers

4 potatoes chunked, not peeled

1 jar baby corn (because we’re fancy like that)

Brown chicken in olive oil, remove and place in large pot. Add remaining ingredients including juice from hot peppers. Add 2 cups of water and cook over medium heat for approximately 1 ½ hours or until chicken is completely cooked. WARNING-WARNING-WARNING.  This is very spicy, be prepared, it only gets hotter the next day.

So things they are a changing in the hood, thinking I’m going to score a real grown up job in the near future or even continue working from home in my pajamas. And……I am going to be turning 50. Look, I hardly flinched when I typed that.  I am no longer the trophy wife.

But even bigger, Sheldon got engaged 2 weeks ago to a British guy whose accent makes me feel like I’ve dropped 15 IQ points overnight. Nice chap, see, I’ve got the Queen’s English down already, bring on the crumpets. I’m sure wedding preparations will bring lots of blog fodder, hopefully he won’t actually read about it here. So now that we are getting a bit of a breather, I’ll be back at the weekly post grind. Been missing you Team Tuna!!! XOXOXOXO

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.