OH DIARY! What a night I have had! I feel so awash with joy that I could sing like Audrey Hepburn's vocal double in "My Fair Lady!"
Last night, Father threw an impromptu party! Well, at least I didn't know about it until I saw cook baking an inordinate amount of hot wings. My soft heart naturally quaked at the thought of all those pretty chickens being deep fried in one fell swoop and I began to cry softly, clutching my ScrumptiousGoodTimes snickerdoodle to my chest with such ferocity I got crumbs on my favorite footie pajamas. Cook soothed me as she...he...often does by telling me that their sacrifice would be well worth it seeing as how they were for the party we were to have that VERY EVENING!
PARTY!
It is rather odd that Father hadn't said anything about it. ANYWAY, he was so thrilled at my excitement regarding the soiree that he let me wear DonalBORING's favorite seersucker suit! He said he was determined for me to "look like a man", however I'm quite sure he meant "gentleman." The suit was a little large in the waist however, so I was forced to wear a belt AND suspenders. It proved not to be a concern though. Unfortunately I had no occasion to get my pants off in a hurry.
So, S.U.T.W.
Everyone seemed to be drinking the Slav's funny water, and it was a veritable smorgasbord of ROLLED BUREK, if you know what I mean! ;)
But, despite the presence of so many fine, delicate lady-flowers....MY fair lady was not in attendance.
Despite this most poignant of absences, I feel as though I'm positively glowing. I stayed all the way until the wee hours of the morning...outdoing even Young Siward. While he certainly looked dashing in a jacket that looked SUSPICIOUSLY like my own, I'm afraid that GainesVillain was adding something with a little more punch to his Slavic Water. Last I saw him he was talking to his fingers about the varying flavors of Chex Mix and exactly what the difference was between "Regular" and "Bold Party Mix."
Diary? I even danced! Oh, how I danced and danced! Roxie didn't know what hit her when I did 'The Percolator" much to the enjoyment of the guests, and of course father, who had to hide his face in his hands so as not to reveal his blush of pride!
:::SIGH::::
It was truly a night to remember...I only wish that the mistress of my heart was there to see me in all my dashing glory. My faith is renewed though diary, for judging by the reactions of the OTHER ladies in attendance (who all PALE in comparison to my sweet, creamy, Lady Hazelnut Latte) the only reason I didn't have to swiftly come up with a way to unhook a pair of suspenders while simultaneously unbuckling my belt was because they merely stood in AWE of my incredible dancing skills. I read once, in an issue of Cosmo, that a man's dancing is an excellent indicator of his...well...PROWESS in the marital arts...wink, wink Diary! All I can say is, there wasn't another man there who could Cupid Shuffle quite like THIS handsome prince!
Farewell for now diary...I'm off to make my "Dancing Into Her Heart" playlist so that I'll be ready at anytime to bust a sweet groove, as they say!
Ever Yours,
Y.P.M.
Showing posts with label Rolled Burek. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rolled Burek. Show all posts
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Influenza blues (with a boozy upside)
Dearest Diary,
Doubt that the sun doth move, doubt that Young Siward is evil, but never doubt, though temporarily absent, I love (well, I wouldn't really doubt the "Young Siward is evil" part)!
Diary, oh my little papyrus homunculus, I am ill! Well, actually, I am recovering, but STILL! Oh, the influenza always brings out the poet in me :sigh:.
Diary I have laid in my downy comforter for five straight days! Cook has brought me copious amounts of chicken soup, "Scrumptious Good Times," and beets. I wanted blueberry pamcakes, but Cook says that they would make my dainty stomach "uncomfortable." Diary, non of these normally glorious foodstuffs have brought me any comfort. I lounged in my silk jammies moping and stroking Frederick's abandoned home (I get sentimental when sick) hoping that my sweet- MY "Scrumptious Good Time" would come and visit her poor, courtly lover. Alas, I was left to cough and sniffle in silence. Diary, I honestly don't know how much of my moisture stained hanky is from post-nasal drip or tears. I do not know. I. do. not. know.
There was one upside, Father introduced me to a most interesting beverage: a "Hot Toddy." Diary, this little drink was a miracle! Father would not tell me what went in to this veritable witches brew of warm, fuzzy delight. I suspect father must get sick a lot, for there was something in the Toddy that reminded me of the way father smells when I sneak into his bed for warmth in the winter-time. What strange dreams were produced by this magical concoction!
My dream was so vivid! I awoke terrified, but laughed the dream off as silly and ridiculous. Still, the over-wrought and sickly manifestations of my brain caused me considerable distress. I dreamed that father had been murthered! And by Uncle Macbeth no less! On the plus side, when I discovered this, Lady MacD pressed her "Rolled Bureks" to me in a show of comfort. I cried because I was so emotionally conflicted! Then I sat around for a while, and then I was in England for some reason and was absolutely horrid to Macduff (though he probably deserved it for leaving lady MacD alone).
It was then that I received the worse news of all! My Dulcet Peach had been murthered as well! Diary, I was crushed beyond belief! But, oh Diary, the strangeness only continued to occur. On hearing of my dear one's death, Frederick's progeny erupted into a veritable mane of animalistic proportions! My voice dropped an entire octave! And I even engaged in physical warfare. Diary, you could not imagine my surprise when I wielded a knife in mortal combat...though I slashed no one I can remember, surely my manly conquests outnumbered the imaginatively prevalent hairs on my dream-induced chest. Then, lo and behold, father had returned in the guise of an old, swarthy Englishman...Old Siward (Young Siward's "father"). This was a most disturbing plot-twist and one from which I dare not dwell (except that nobody save me seemed to care much about Y.S. demise...which I maintain was because I wanted to do him in myself).
It all ended with me becoming king of Scotland. The end. Nothing more. There was nothing else that happened...nothing.
Anyway, I think we have all learned a valuable lesson about how wonderful and calamitous Hot Toddies are.
Yours in absolute, no-holdsbarred truth,
Y.P.M.
OH DIARY, I cannot lie to you! Something else did happen. In the dream Macduff tenderly placed his arm on mine to pronounce me king of Scotland...and I felt...a connection. I don't know what that means, but I am frightened. Nevertheless, I am determined to pursue the more feminine of the two Macduffs until Birnum Wood do come to Dunsinane.
Doubt that the sun doth move, doubt that Young Siward is evil, but never doubt, though temporarily absent, I love (well, I wouldn't really doubt the "Young Siward is evil" part)!
Diary, oh my little papyrus homunculus, I am ill! Well, actually, I am recovering, but STILL! Oh, the influenza always brings out the poet in me :sigh:.
Diary I have laid in my downy comforter for five straight days! Cook has brought me copious amounts of chicken soup, "Scrumptious Good Times," and beets. I wanted blueberry pamcakes, but Cook says that they would make my dainty stomach "uncomfortable." Diary, non of these normally glorious foodstuffs have brought me any comfort. I lounged in my silk jammies moping and stroking Frederick's abandoned home (I get sentimental when sick) hoping that my sweet- MY "Scrumptious Good Time" would come and visit her poor, courtly lover. Alas, I was left to cough and sniffle in silence. Diary, I honestly don't know how much of my moisture stained hanky is from post-nasal drip or tears. I do not know. I. do. not. know.
There was one upside, Father introduced me to a most interesting beverage: a "Hot Toddy." Diary, this little drink was a miracle! Father would not tell me what went in to this veritable witches brew of warm, fuzzy delight. I suspect father must get sick a lot, for there was something in the Toddy that reminded me of the way father smells when I sneak into his bed for warmth in the winter-time. What strange dreams were produced by this magical concoction!
My dream was so vivid! I awoke terrified, but laughed the dream off as silly and ridiculous. Still, the over-wrought and sickly manifestations of my brain caused me considerable distress. I dreamed that father had been murthered! And by Uncle Macbeth no less! On the plus side, when I discovered this, Lady MacD pressed her "Rolled Bureks" to me in a show of comfort. I cried because I was so emotionally conflicted! Then I sat around for a while, and then I was in England for some reason and was absolutely horrid to Macduff (though he probably deserved it for leaving lady MacD alone).
It was then that I received the worse news of all! My Dulcet Peach had been murthered as well! Diary, I was crushed beyond belief! But, oh Diary, the strangeness only continued to occur. On hearing of my dear one's death, Frederick's progeny erupted into a veritable mane of animalistic proportions! My voice dropped an entire octave! And I even engaged in physical warfare. Diary, you could not imagine my surprise when I wielded a knife in mortal combat...though I slashed no one I can remember, surely my manly conquests outnumbered the imaginatively prevalent hairs on my dream-induced chest. Then, lo and behold, father had returned in the guise of an old, swarthy Englishman...Old Siward (Young Siward's "father"). This was a most disturbing plot-twist and one from which I dare not dwell (except that nobody save me seemed to care much about Y.S. demise...which I maintain was because I wanted to do him in myself).
It all ended with me becoming king of Scotland. The end. Nothing more. There was nothing else that happened...nothing.
Anyway, I think we have all learned a valuable lesson about how wonderful and calamitous Hot Toddies are.
Yours in absolute, no-holdsbarred truth,
Y.P.M.
OH DIARY, I cannot lie to you! Something else did happen. In the dream Macduff tenderly placed his arm on mine to pronounce me king of Scotland...and I felt...a connection. I don't know what that means, but I am frightened. Nevertheless, I am determined to pursue the more feminine of the two Macduffs until Birnum Wood do come to Dunsinane.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Moving Day
Diary!
My mid-morning festivities have been ruined! I was curled up under a mountain of blankets, with only my dainty nose protruding, watching Cary Elwes videos when Father came bursting in the room and told me, "for the love of whatever slight degree of manliness you posses, get your clothes on and get to work!"
It was moving day dear Diary! And just for the record, all exclamation points from here on out are not motivated by my customary jubilant glee but a most poignant angst. Father was receiving a new shipment of Slavs and forced me to help them move their stuff. Ugh. Why do we have to keep Slavs in the first place? It's not like the historic rosemary bush takes much looking after!
They come with all their babushkas and sad, shuffling dirges, their hand-made marbles and their borsht. I don't want to be racialist dear Diary, but what are they doing here? Father says that they are "hired workers," but they never seem to leave! Normally when one does a job, one goes home at the end of the day...right? But they NEVER LEAVE!
I believe they may be a bad influence on me! They drink funny tasting water out by the shed (it doesn't really smell like anything, looks like water, but it tastes like skinning your knee!) They gamble with their homemade marbles, and try to get me to eat their strange cuisine. They do have one dish I enjoy, however, "rolled burek." I don't know what a burek is or why they roll it, but Diary, it tastes unbelieveable (*FYI dearest Diary, my exclamation points have now become marks connotating succulant delight*)! Oh diary, I salivate at the thought of their supple baked bread mounds enveloping such tender, seasoned meats! Sometimes they come in pairs; sometimes there are scallions, Dear Diary, SCALLIONS! I am suddenly reminded of Lady MacD. Hm...odd. Perhaps I have solved my previous entry's delimma?
"rolled burek?"
Yours,
Y.P.M.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Motani_burek_1.gif
My mid-morning festivities have been ruined! I was curled up under a mountain of blankets, with only my dainty nose protruding, watching Cary Elwes videos when Father came bursting in the room and told me, "for the love of whatever slight degree of manliness you posses, get your clothes on and get to work!"
It was moving day dear Diary! And just for the record, all exclamation points from here on out are not motivated by my customary jubilant glee but a most poignant angst. Father was receiving a new shipment of Slavs and forced me to help them move their stuff. Ugh. Why do we have to keep Slavs in the first place? It's not like the historic rosemary bush takes much looking after!
They come with all their babushkas and sad, shuffling dirges, their hand-made marbles and their borsht. I don't want to be racialist dear Diary, but what are they doing here? Father says that they are "hired workers," but they never seem to leave! Normally when one does a job, one goes home at the end of the day...right? But they NEVER LEAVE!
I believe they may be a bad influence on me! They drink funny tasting water out by the shed (it doesn't really smell like anything, looks like water, but it tastes like skinning your knee!) They gamble with their homemade marbles, and try to get me to eat their strange cuisine. They do have one dish I enjoy, however, "rolled burek." I don't know what a burek is or why they roll it, but Diary, it tastes unbelieveable (*FYI dearest Diary, my exclamation points have now become marks connotating succulant delight*)! Oh diary, I salivate at the thought of their supple baked bread mounds enveloping such tender, seasoned meats! Sometimes they come in pairs; sometimes there are scallions, Dear Diary, SCALLIONS! I am suddenly reminded of Lady MacD. Hm...odd. Perhaps I have solved my previous entry's delimma?
"rolled burek?"
Yours,
Y.P.M.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Motani_burek_1.gif
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