Archive for March, 2012

It’s good to have friends you’ve known for decades. You can be your unvarnished self and they still like you. My unvarnished self spent the weekend in New Orleans with my friend Julia, whom I’ve known since eighth grade. She was there for a conference* so I used frequent flier miles to join her. My cost for transportation and hotel: $10.

Savannah has been called a small New Orleans. It’s more like this: Savannah is the girl with “a reputation” who still dresses up every day and goes to church on Sundays. New Orleans is her trashy older sister who whores herself out to buy heroin.

To report everything that we did and saw will take more than one post (and I’m not sure I want to incriminate myself or Julia). I’ll just share with you some visual highlights.

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* This is what happens when people get older and have jobs and mortgages. When they are desperate to get out of town, they join up with friends who are going to conferences for work (read: free hotel room).

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Lured by the media’s suggestion that the Savannah St. Patrick’s day crowd could be the largest ever, I left my family and the quiet comfort of our home and headed downtown.


Because if there’s going to be insanity on display, then I want to see it.

The first time I witnessed the St. Pat’s festivities in Savannah, I was a sophomore in college. The fraternity for which I was a little sister was part of the parade. I spent my time in a fetal position in the back seat of the “float” (which was a van with signs on it). Green beer was not what took me down; it was a tainted hamburger.

Anyway, I arrived downtown just as the parade finished. My mistake. The cops directing traffic were already irritated, and the day was young. I found a parking place without too much trouble (what a shock!), met up with Royce (a frequent partner in crime), and headed to River Street.

As we walked down the Factors Walk steps, Royce said, “Here we go into the belly of the beast.” Then the drunk guy behind us repeated it, adding “That’s about right.”

So, without further ado, here is what you missed if you didn’t heed the beast’s call to “GET IT MAH BELLY!

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Let’s take a break from the sideshow that is politics, and enjoy a slideshow of textual assaults.

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I get it. I do.

Rush Limbaugh makes his living by making outrageous statements and polarizing people. He thrives on controversy because that drives an increase in listeners. His livelihood depends on him being a jerk.

So no one should be surprised at his latest antics, and that it took three days for him to apologize to Sandra Fluke. He had to make sure that people were good and outraged. He had to make sure people were paying attention to him.

It’s all part of his shtick. I doubt he even believes all the things he says. I worry more about the people who actually listen to him, believe him, agree with him, and use his words to get fired up in their own lives and voting booths.

But let’s look at the controversy. I don’t mean birth control pills or whether it is actually used for contraception (in many cases, it is not). I don’t mean Limbaugh’s crazy assumption that you need to have a pill each time you have sex. I mean the issue of women having sex in the first place (something that frightens Rick Santorum very much).

Limbaugh said about Fluke, “She’s having so much sex, it’s amazing she can still walk.” That wasn’t the point of her congressional committee testimony, and I have no idea whether she is getting it on regularly or not. But what if she is? So what?

Why is it still OK, in 2012, to brand a woman as a “slut” for enjoying herself? Men have been doing it for years, and earning acclaim (see Warren Beatty, Hugh Hefner, Gene Simmons, Gerard Butler, etc.). Note the difference between the terms “ladies man” and “whore.”

Why are we still rooted in the 1950s idea of what a woman should do and be? I should ask my mother-in-law. She’s still pissed that I’m not home all day with the kids. (It doesn’t impress her a bit that I have a Ph.D., great job, and I make it home in time to cook dinner for Eddie every day.)

Why aren’t there more women in positions of power in the United States? According to the 2010 Census, woman outnumber men 157 million to 151.8 million.

I’ll tell you why: Women often have a hard time getting along with other women. You need proof? Watch this season of “Survivor.” (Or don’t. It is embarrassing.) This season’s twist is that all the contestants are in the same camp, but they are on teams by gender.

Instead of using their collective skills and knowledge to work together and build a shelter, make fire, etc., they’ve been racing over to the men’s shelter to “get warm for five minutes.” (If you know you are going to be on “Survivor,” wouldn’t you practice making fire?)

They lost an easy challenge because they could not figure out how to work together.

I want these smart, strong women to start supporting and relying on each other. Men are often dismissive of women; women shouldn’t do it too.

I know, I know: Aggressive men are “go-getters” while aggressive women are “bitches.” But the fact that women outnumber men means that we can change that image, as long as we aren’t doing the name-calling also.

March is Women’s History Month. Women, now is the time to speak up, speak out, make a difference.

And if you want to get it on with hundreds of people, Sandra Fluke, do it. I won’t judge you. Limbaugh can kiss my butt as it walks away to help foster true equality.

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Lately, I’ve been interested in food wrapped in other food (see Scotch quail eggs). Tonight I made Triple Meat Surprise.

Is it a surprise because it involves three meats? Not when one of those is bacon. (You know my relationship with bacon.)

Is it a surprise because it is stuffed with roasted sweet peppers? No, although they are so very yummy.

Is it a surprise that Newt Gingrich is still in the race for the Republican presidential nomination? Yes, but that is the topic of a different post.

It is a surprise because I came up with it on my own. I had Italian sausage and ground turkey in the refrigerator that were seeking willing bellies. I was going to make meatballs, then I thought to do this:

Here are the (easy) instructions:

Take sausage out of casings and spread out on wax paper. Place roasted red peppers in the center. Lift one side of wax paper to help make a roll with the peppers inside.

Mix ground turkey with an egg, 1/4 cup of ketchup, 1 tablespoon of basil, 1 tablespoon of Adobo, 1 tablespoon of water, 1/4 cup of Italian bread crumbs. If the mixture is a little too sloppy, add more bread crumbs.

Spread out the mixture on another piece of wax paper. Place the sausage roll on top. Brush with a little beaten egg and dust with more bread crumbs.

Using wax paper, roll up meat mixture around sausage roll. Place bacon strips next to each other on wax paper. Place meat log on bacon strips. Using wax paper, wrap bacon around meat log.

Place on some kind of rack that allows drainage on a cookie sheet covered in foil. Cook in 375-degree oven for an hour and a half.

Take photo of first-born and the skink he found. Clean wound from skink bite, lather on Neosporin, and top off with a Batman Band-Aid. (This part of the directions may just apply in my house, though.)

Eddie came home and immediately got excited by the smell (the smell of the food, not the skink or the skink bite). Here’s the finished product:

It was a big hit. Clean plates all around!


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