the rules are blurry at the edges

You know what's the best most delicious bread in the entire world? That Pepperidge Farms mult-grain apple and pomegranate bread. Oh my god, it's the most fabulous bread, especially with peanut butter and jelly.

I want to learn how to make pudding from scratch. I'm a horrible cook, but I can usually bake pretty well, and pudding is possibly one of my very favorite foods of all time. Anyone have a good pudding recipe I could start with?

I am way, way behind on muse_to_match, so expect three soundtracks within the next couple weeks. I had to figure out which direction to take Build Your House, and I keep getting sidetracked by songs that would be cool for great great grandson of Supersaturation instead of Adsorption, so. Whatever.

I took off Wednesday, Thursday and Friday this week because I had to use vacation days and I'm going to PAINT. PAINT LIKE THE WIND. I've got so much crap to do with the house; watch me just sit around writing and reading all day or something. Sometimes I'm just a waste of perfectly good space, like Kennerty (JK KENNERTY IS MY FAVORITE!!!!!!)

Mike is a horrible team leader. “I suck,” he tells Chris. He’s sprawled over a cot in the infirmary, an arm flung over his face.

“You’re drunk,” Chris says.

“Well. Yeah.” Mike thinks this is a stunning given, since he’s got a mostly empty rum bottle wedged between his legs. He wishes he were even drunker. But the important thing—the important thing is that Mike is a fucking lousy team leader. It doesn’t really reflect awesomely on him when people are constantly getting hurt and-or kidnapped under his command.