On Whale Noises in the Workplace

My stomach is making loud noises this morning. Here in my cubicle farm, people are unlikely to say something to me about it because I am the boss. I am pretending not to notice anything unusual.


It sounds like whales singing!

On Homemade Salsa

I made a homemade salsa last night. It turned out great and was pretty easy to do. I will probably do this from now on whenever I am entertaining--if I have 30 minutes to spare. Here is an informal recipe to make about a quart.

Ingredients:

- 3 large tomatoes.
- 1 T vegetable oil.

- 10 to 15 pinky-sized dried red chili peppers. (get the flat-skinned papery ones for more heat; get the oily, pruny looking ones for a milder, smokier flavor). yank off the stems. if you're chickenshit, take out the seeds too.
- half a white onion, chopped.
- 3 cloves garlic, chopped.
- 1.5 T cider vinegar.
- salt to taste

1. Toast the peppers in a skillet over medium high heat for 5 minutes, then put them in a bowl with a cup of water to soak.
2. In same skillet add the oil and crank the heat to high. Put in the whole tomatoes and cook for 20 minutes. They should blacken on the outside and become mushy but retain their shape.
3. Set tomatoes aside to cool, reduce heat to medium high, and add the onions, garlic, peppers, and the water they were soaking in. Loosen the black stuff from the bottom of the pan and stir it all together.
4. Cook til the water boils out. Stir consistently. Puree the tomatoes while you wait and pour them directly into the serving bowl.
5. When the water is gone, puree the contents of the skillet--pepper/onion/garlic--and stir into the serving bowl.
6. Add the vinegar, then salt to taste.
7. Refrigerate for an hour.


Planning to add a teaspoon of cinnamon next time.

On the Merits of a Porsche and a Bad Haircut

My dad recently married a completely dysfunctional member of society, a paranoid, an alcoholic, a manic depressive, a does-not-compute, a total fuckup. Leaving all the hyperdramatic narrative and background aside, I will just say this. Why couldn't his midlife crisis be getting a porsche and a stupid haircut instead of divorcing my mom and marrying a head case?

It is so heartbreaking to see my dad suffer so much for his mistakes.

On Words as Processed Meats

Getting ready for work this morning and thinking about work things, I planned to explain to one of my programmers that something was extraneous. Recalling that he is from India, I wondered if he would know this word or be able to infer the meaning. That is when it occurred to me that extraneous is all prefix and suffix with no root to connect them. Upon arrival in the office I confirmed on Encyclopedia.com: Dictionary of Etymology: "extraneous XVII. f. L. extrāneus; see EXTRA-, -EOUS." How strange--an entire word made up of the trimmings of other words. The verbal equivalent of sausage.

On Soluble Umbrellas

Illness, medical bills linked to nearly two-thirds of bankruptcies: "Dr. David Himmelstein, the lead author of the study and an associate professor of medicine at Harvard, commented: 'Our findings are frightening. Unless you're Warren Buffett, your family is just one serious illness away from bankruptcy. For middle-class Americans, health insurance offers little protection. Most of us have policies with so many loopholes, co-payments and deductibles that illness can put you in the poorhouse. And even the best job-based health insurance often vanishes when prolonged illness causes job loss – precisely when families need it most. Private health insurance is a defective product, akin to an umbrella that melts in the rain.'"


Fucking insurance companies.

Go ride a bike.

This blog is not intended for public consumption. It exists only because I have to write in order to remain sane, and there must be at least the theoretical possibility of an audience. I don't know what that says about me. You are strongly encouraged to stop reading.

Go ride a bike or something.