Bad Copy of the Day Award

My friend Shannon was asking me about the terrible pictures from this infertility site I wrote back in the day (related:  I came up with the world's best infertility tagline for this guy -- "Turning Wishes Into Miracles") and I wanted to show her the rest of the site.

I remembered that he had not only the fancy new website that we built for him, but a bunch of crappy old sites too, where the old pictures might still live.  I went to my old employer's website to try to find this doctor's site, and was completely sidetracked by this sentence.  Please keep in mind that at least 40% of what this company sells is really well-written copy.  

"You are also invited to explore this website, as well as the websites of ABC Co.'s five major subsidiaries:  ABC Co. Medical, ABC Co. Dental, and ABC Co. Law."

Go ahead.  Explore all five of those.  I can't imagine why I left that place.

White person confession.

Our local NPR station just switched over from AM to FM, and I have made a disturbing discovery:  you know Steve Inskeep on Morning Edition?  He sounds way more attractive on AM.  They switched over and suddenly the full, rich, friendly voice that breaks the new day's bad news to me sounded thin and tinny.  They were simulcasting on AM and FM for a few days, so I was able to switch back and forth to make sure I was hearing him properly.   Sure enough, the Steve I knew and loved was gone.  Stupid switchover.  Stop messing with my reality.

Update:  I am pleased to report that NPR still broadcasts on its old AM station.  Sometimes I switch back during Steve's bits.

Overheard in Target

This was one of the funniest and saddest exchanges between a married couple that I've heard in a while.  I was browsing the women's clothes when I passed a couple who were looking at the clothes on clearance.  The man pointed out a bright orange blouse and the following conversation ensued:

"Hey, hon, you should get this."

"......Why?"

"The bears are coming."

(confused silence) "....What?"

"The bears are coming."

"................What are you talking about?"

(as though speaking to a child) "Football is coming. The Bears are coming..... you know, you gotta wear orange every Sunday."

"Oh."

And then they walked on.  I can't even imagine this woman's life, though I know conversations like this happen all over America, and all around the world (but usually for soccer).   I just loved his simple conviction, and her masterful ability to completely sidestep that conviction.  Well done, the both of you.  And go Bears.  

The Yogurtinator -- available at a commune near you

Yesterday, Chris and I came one step closer to achieving off-grid sustainability, when we successfully* made yogurt on our own, right after baking a couple of loaves of bread.  The idea came from our good friends the Kilzers, who showed us their version of a box that cooks milk and a small starter amount of yogurt into... well, a bigger amount of yogurt in just a few hours.

Here you see us assembling the Yogurtinator (Stu calls his the "Yogurnator," which is a more clever name, but I like the irritating quality caused by the extra syllables in "Yogurtinator"), which consists of nothing more than a cheap styrofoam cooler from the grocery store, a lamp kit, a dimmer switch, and a thermometer thrust unceremoniously through the top of the lid.

I'll spare you the steps (hint:  they're here) but suffice it to say, we got some mighty yogurt-looking stuff out at the end of the process.  I'm waiting for Chris to come home from school so we can try it at the same time.  After all, the family who experiences paralyzing stomach cramps together stays together.

*This remains to be seen.

It's... HUGE!!! RUN!!!

I thought about filing this under Bad Copy of the Day, but it doesn't quite fit, and rather does much better as a platform for my usual misplaced-yet-no-less-incandescent rage. I recently received this email at work (names changed, as usual, to assist in keeping my job):

"Congratulations to Producer Adam Farfegnugen and wife Krystal on the birth of their first child. Daughter Mairzy Doats Farfegnugen was born yesterday Sunday the 22nd of June 2008. This dainty little gem weighed in at 6 pounds and 12 ounces. Don't have a length yet but stay tuned for another bulletin. Everyone is doing well."

STAY TUNED. We're still waiting on that bulletin, by the way. I've lost countless hours of sleep, just lying there at night, wondering, "BUT HOW LONG WAS SHE?" Here's where I'm going with this. I know that it's been the tradition for ages to report the length and weight of newborns. It's the only achievement they've made thus far, after all. But ask yourself -- why do people always want to know the length and weight of the baby? Answer: because just asking the weight is a nearly transparent substitution for "how grisly and difficult was the birth?" Search your heart, you know it to be true. So instead, people throw in the length thing to legitimize their nosiness.

Unfortunately, there are no other questions that one can ask about a newborn or new mother that aren't rude or insensitive ("Does it have all its parts?" and "Will you be eating the placenta?" are two that I would consider acceptable if I was in charge of the world). So I guess I'll be stuck with having a brazillion people ask me these same time-worn, retarded questions when I have a child. I'll simply have to keep them on their toes, I guess. "Yeah, he's 7 pounds, 64 inches. He came out like a roll of Fruit by the Foot."

Best cake ever!*

I've finished my second Wilton cake decorating course, and here's my final cake.  It features pansies, mums, roses, primroses, daffodils, violets, apple blossoms, and daisies, which are all made out of royal icing (they're made ahead of time and placed on the cake when hard).  I also learned the super awesome-looking basketweave maneuver.  I'm really damn impressed with myself.  Next up is the class that teaches me how to work with fondant and make tiered cakes.  I'm not sure when that will be, but I'm thinking I'll wait a couple months to let the rage subside.  

This is a fun thing to learn, but it's a real bitch to prepare all the different kinds and colors of icing for each class -- especially considering that royal icing falls apart into a sobbing, useless heap if it comes into contact with the slightest bit of grease.  My kitchen has to be medical-grade clean before I can make this stuff.  Seriously, I spray everything down -- tablespoon, mixer bowl and beater, tupperware containers -- with 401 before I start.  It's outrageous.

* Yeah I know "Best cake ever!" is hardly modest.  But holy crap, LOOK AT IT!!