Feb 23 2006
the result of fever-induced delerium
For the love of God, could I please stop getting sick? I’m really quite tired of it, and furthermore, I don’t even understand what the deal is. I mean, when I used to work with kids I was sick all the time and I understood it because, well, let’s face it — children are disease-mongering germ monkeys, but I don’t work with kids anymore. I do work with heaping amounts of stress and resentment, however, so maybe that’s it.
Anyway, I’ve been out of sorts for the past couple of days with a sore throat and the inability to breathe through both nostrils at the same time. There’s also been the fever, which would, of course, be the explanation for the post directly below this one. And this one too. I mean, come on. In case you were wondering. The thing is, I don’t have any sick time anymore, so I can’t take any time off unless I actually die, I think. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to die, but it’s still good to have goals. I could use a vacation.
Can you tell that I have a fever and I’m insane? You can, can’t you?
So I thought today when I came home from work, I would take some Ny-Quil and go to sleep, but instead of doing that, I decided to go on a cooking spree. I made a pot of white bean chili (the key is in the salsa verde!), and I also made some candied yams. I realize that Thanksgiving is in November and it is currently February, so there is no logical reason for me to be making candied yams, but the thing is that earlier today I was having this chat with some of my co-workers about methods of cooking sweet potatoes (no foolin’) and I said they’re really good when you cook them down in apple cider. And since tomorrow we’re having a potluck at work, and I opened my damn mouth about sweet potatoes, there you go. I substituted apple juice for apple cider, but whatever, because OH MY GOD THEY SMELL SO GOOD. I predict sugar shock. You know, because they’re candied. I would tell you more about making them, but it’s a secret recipe concocted by my mother (which means that it goes something like “you put some of this in and a little bit of that in and you sprinkle a little of the other thing on the top and you cook it until it’s done” because that’s the way it is with a lot of my mom’s recipes), but I will tell you that there is cinnamon involved in the process. Cinnamon! And yams! Genius!
Yams. What a weird word.
I should probably take my temperature.
Speaking of things that are hot, which I wasn’t at all, by the way, I have to weigh in with some thoughts about American Idol. I wasn’t ever really into this show, but at some point last year, I think, I got sucked in by all the bad singing and even worse wardrobe choices, and now it’s one of those guilty pleasures about which I feel absolutely no guilt whatsoever. Anyway, as I was saying over here earlier, the blinding gorgeousness of Ace Young hurts a little bit. I’m not into pretty boys (except when I am), because I’m kind of afraid of freakishly attractive people, and he is freakishly attractive. People don’t really look like that, do they? I guess the fact that his name is Ace makes up for the freakish attractiveness because who’s named Ace? Really, that’s just not right. No offense to anyone named Ace, but I just don’t understand it. Ace is a hardware store. My point is that I sort of want to bite him, which I would not be admitting if I weren’t sick right now. But I’m still all about that crazy Joe Cocker-esque, gray-haired Taylor Hicks. Damn. He’s insane! I love it!
/schoolgirl
Um, I have this hunch that this is going to be one of those things I will wish I hadn’t written when I am feeling better, which is exactly why I am going to go ahead and post it. Life is too short for shame.
I know what you mean. Usually really really ridiculously attractive people are mean and stuck up — or at least that’s my impression of them. So I flee. But we haven’t seen enough of Ace to think that of him yet. So we just stand in his path, gaping at the eyes and the teeth and the hair and the Ace and oh my god. And then we’ll get run over.
I’m hoping that his Obnoxious Pretty Boy personality comes out soon, because… I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to start breathing again sometime.
Jamelah … I hope I somehow didn’t pass along my case of bird flu through IM. But I guess it had to happen sometime. I actually missed both Wednesday and Thursday of American Idol, but I know what you mean about being sucked in. And, come on, a show that gives you Constantine, Mary Roach AND Ruben Studdard? Wowowowowow.
Time to make the onions.
that’s a great post. i never watch tv and have no idea what american idol is (outside of my class discussion wherein i hear people make fun of it) and i still loved this post.
if i hadn’t deleted my blog i’d probably use yours as justification for posting something in mine. but then, even your fever-induced post isn’t even a fraction as ridiculous as most of the things i’ve posted when i was well.
so.
and anyway, i like candied yams. i thought that was just a southern thing.
Idle Idol Thoughts:
Yeah well, I like to say the name “Bucky Covington”, too. Bucky isn’t sucky, although his teeth are yucky. And he has a nervous tick where he keeps blinking his eyes.
Yeah, what’s with the contestant’s teeth? David Radford & Bucky’s needs straightening, Elliott Yamin needs caps or filler teeth, and Gideon’s are too big for his mouth.
I also was telling a friend of mine that soon we’ll be seeing everyone on that show throwing highlights in their hair. I would hate to see what they ultimately do to “doll” up Taylor Hicks.
Is it me or does everyone on American Idol have these cool names? Bucky, Ace, Sway, Taylor. Paris, Ayla, Mandisa, Kinnik Sky. The girls are just (in Simon’s terms) “forgettable”.
And why is Kinnik considered “over-the-hill” at 28? That pissed me off.
I also like to say the name, “Lisa Tucker” with a hokey country accent. I make bucked-teeth when I do it. And Will Makar? He just reminds me of Fred Savage.
I think Taylor Hicks can sing the heck out of a song.
And Ace may singlehandedly ensure that no woman ever even vaguely looks my way again, the rat bastard.
whoops…I think I am in the wrong place right now. The only American Idol I know is Billy…
Hope you are feeling better soon if not presently and just wanted to let you know that candied yams cure everything, especially if you use yo Momma’s receipe.