See the Bandages? They're Mummies...

(not ghosts!)



Alas, I understand the confusion.

So, my Ma tought me how to make these Halloween Mummies. They're really fun to make and taste good enough to make an anorexic fall off the wagon ('cause she'd, like, wanna eat em! Get it? She hates eating but theyre so good!)

I find my posting this quick how-to to be wildly inappropiate for two reasons (not counting my previous attempt to make light of eating disorders): One, it's November 13th and therefore you'll look like an idiot (should have gone with the stupid cookies decorated to look like fat turkeys/the NBC logo) and Two, Mummies are disgusting.

According to Wikipedia, Mummies are "corpses whose skin and organs have been preserved by exposure to chemicals, extreme coldness (ice mummies), very low humidity, or lack of air when bodies are submerged in bogs" (Bogs?)

Who wants to eat a caricature of that? Why, you and your friends of course! Don't worry about these little fuckers reminding you of charred bodies wrapped in soggy bandages. They sorta look like ghosts anyway.

Here we go:

-Get Nutter butters
-and a basting brush (or, uh, a clean paintbrust. CLEAN!)
-White Chocolate chips
-Mini Semi Sweet Chocolate chips. If they don't have them, get black icing. My ma thinks red-hots would work, but that freaks me out. Don't get the full size chocolate chips or they'll look like crazy-mummies (unless you want to use one and go for a cyclops-mummy. I digress).

Melt the white chocolate over low heat until its all smooth. If you can't keep your chocolate covered mitts our of your mouth, pop in a piece of gum and save yourself the sugar rush.

Paint one side of the nutter-butters with the white chocolate. Don't paint the back or it'll stick. Paint the sides. After you finish 'em all, drag a fork across their little bodies to create the look of bandages (mmmm...preserved flesh!).

After you finish all that, place the eyes and stick them in the fridge overnight (or at least 2 hours) so everything sets.

I also recommend making a place card or something clarifying that they are MUMMIES...and not ghosts. (Seriously, ghosts are not peanut shaped!)

Enjoy!

The Little Things...

Yeah, how about a round of applause for the seating outside my gate in Kansas City! I haven't appreciated this kind of intuition since I discovered those hooks under the bar where you hang your purse. Let the phone/laptop/ipod/soul charging commence...

Related: This guy next to me just sneezed so loud I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or slug him in the neck.

A Verbal Thrashing to Judgy McJudgerson in the Elevator This Morning

You know, one of my favorite episodes of Sex and the City features a pissed off Carrie Bradshaw marching through Manhattan to the Upper East side apartment of friend Charlotte York. She's pissed at Charlotte and has showed up at her door, exasperated, ready to let her have it. Charlotte can't believe she walked all the way over in her new shoes.

"These shoes pinch my feet...but I love them." - Carrie sobs, thus delivering one of the greatest lines in the whole damn series.

"I'm in a financial cul-de-sac!"

I love my high heel shoes more than human babies. Some leave my toes looking like strangled, purple sausages by the end of the night. Others are, to me, more comfortable than a pair of flip-flops anyday. I don't care how many old trolls roll their eyes in the elevator and mumble something about how when you are as busy as they are, shoes must be selected on comfort, I'm rocking my heels until they have to pry them off my dead, lifeless limbs. After which I sincerely hope rigor mortis causes me to kick that shoe thief right in the eyeball.

I'm happy that lady's Dr. Scholl's Squeegie-Sols make it even easier for her to pick up her 19 kids from soccer practice before stomping off to the airport to pick up her mother-in-law. You know what? My "stripper shoes" make every single day of my painful quarter-life crisis damn near bearable. They pinch the living daylights out of my feet, but I love the hell out of them.

On that note, its time to return to the land of functioning adults.