Mondrianyone

Stop me if it seems reality TV has made me cynical to the breaking point, but . . . It occurred to me that it's not inconceivable for production to manufacture a car accident to create a romantic epiphany that justifies Kalani suddenly realizing how much she loves Asuelu and can't live without him. I mean, if it's a crappy, low-value car that's headed for the junkyard anyway and both parties get something out of showing the wreckage (but not the actual accident), how hard would it be to smash it up and take pictures of the aftermath? Not that I think Asuelu is better at driving than he is at most other things. I'd love to see the official accident report.

Also, some credit-card companies (mine is one) have virtual cards you can use. You download their app, and then when you don't want to input your actual number, you launch the app and they'll issue you a unique card number that's only good for that single transaction, or that single vendor. So no one sees your real card number, but the transaction goes through and appears on your statement as an ordinary purchase.

Given the expectations established by Chuck's kids, that's not really surprising. Andrei is a walking manifestation of the Dunning-Kruger effect. Knows nothing, can do nothing, and bursting with confidence and a sense of his own superiority. They should teach him in Psych 101.

It could be worse. Imagine if they were making babies in bed and playing with their pickles. 🥒

I thought she was already supporting at least one boob.

I had the same reaction. And because I'm neither a psychiatrist nor do I play one on TV, I think I'm qualified to offer a diagnosis. Pure sociopath. You're welcome. 👩‍⚕️

Ah, phooey. I had a moment of hope when the title lit up on my homepage. Rats.

The Jackson Pollock At-Home Collection. You'd clean up with it. So to speak. My big concern is, once the pandemic is over, will they make us start wearing a bra again? (The women, I mean.)

All it really takes is one. And then I guess these clowns go back home to their wives, who may or may not care if they're cheating, but worse, to their kids. Who we now know aren't immune to this. So . . . good luck.

Good job on the social distancing. They should all be dead in about two weeks.

I've never had them offer me any kind of credit, but I was already planning on mentioning it this time. Because this isn't entirely recent, and it was going on before the COVID issue was even a twinkle in anyone's eye. Jeff Bezos is rich enough to give me a 20% rebate, I'm guessing. Yeah, I figured that as well, but I think we're long enough into this so that a tiny company like UPS has had time to add another reason to their excuse list. When I see "natural disaster," I keep imagining a volcano erupting in Warwick, Rhode Island.

Okay, this is not out-and-out bitching, maybe just minor-league whining, but . . . I pay for Prime, but even before COVID, deliveries that were supposed to arrive in two days routinely didn't. I currently have two packages sitting at different UPS depots in New England, both of which were supposed to be delivered today. Not even close to an emergency, and my life will go on just fine if they don't show up for another month. I totally understand if my silly orders are put on the back burner while UPS rushes sled dogs through to Alaska carrying the serum. I'd even offer to drive them there. I guess there are two things that annoy me. One is that Amazon never offers a rebate or a credit if Prime deliveries are late (sometimes a week or more late). Two, you never get a real explanation for what it was that hung things up. With these two packages, UPS tracking says "weather or natural disaster" is the reason. So one package is stalled in RI and the other's in CT. Weather here in Maine has been clear and sunny the last two days, so probably not weather. And I'm sure if there'd been some natural disaster in CT and RI, we'd at least have seen a brief mention in the news. Somebody owes somebody an explanation. UPS also always says that they leave things at our front door. Which they don't. Ka-vetch, ka-vetch, as Norma Rae would say. I really love FedEx. ETA: I picked the wrong week to declare my love for FedEx, apparently. They need to rehire a driver they fired because he was subjected to some racist bullshit and had the gall to defend himself. Until they do, I don't really love FedEx anymore.

I'm pretty sure this has more to do with contracts than with contractions.

For someone who insists over and over that she doesn't care what the "haters" say, Sunny sure makes a point to answer them back all the time. When I saw the show a couple weeks ago, I was thinking that maybe Katie and her husband are staying at a little beach shack one of them owns. Easier to isolate there than in a city, but who knows? I made Katie's roast chicken on croutons again last week, and it was even better than the last time. I think it's my go-to roast chicken recipe now. I realized the night before that I didn't have any baguettes to use for the bread slices--so I made baguettes! (A little wonky-looking since I don't own a couche--which I've since ordered--but they tasted great and served the purpose just fine.) Quarantine is the mother of invention.

I'll have to figure out how to tweak Greenland to Manila. Shouldn't be that hard.

I'm supposed to be working, so naturally I'm doing everything but. The last few days I've had scraps of song lyrics running through my head, so I thought if I wrote one of them down, I could free myself and get on with things. And naturally I'm dumping this one here. Apologies in advance. The Troll from San Diego (Sung to the tune of "The Girl from Ipanema") Short and squat and gross and neckless, The troll from San Diego goes waddling, And as he passes, the lovely lasses go "Ughhhh." When he talks, he's like a muppet That thinks he's cute but's just wash-uppéd And when he passes, the lovely lasses go "Ughhhh." Oh, could I sing him this ballad? So I can tell him we hate him? Yes, he's a pile of egg salad. When each day he applies mayonnaise, We just want to set him ablaze . . . Short and squat and gross and neckless, The troll from San Diego goes waddling, And as he passes, the lovely lasses go "Ughhhh." © 2020 by Mondrianyone

I can't remember a jar or container of molasses ever going bad on me. I think the current one was purchased at least eight years ago, and it still seems good. Here's a more authoritative opinion.

For anyone who's interested (and didn't already know about this), King Arthur Flour is running a series on their YouTube channel called The Isolation Baking Show, starring Gesine and Jeffrey Hamelman of KA. I don't know how long it's scheduled to keep going, but there are about ten or a dozen episodes so far. It's really nice to have her back in some format, and Jeffrey is great. The first thing I'm going to watch after I clear my desk of the current work project is the bagel episode.

In David's case I think it's "Shafted," although he doesn't seem to know it yet.

What is he hurt about? That he did a beyond-awful job conducting that "seminar," the material for which he stole by watching five minutes of some other guy's YouTube video? That he clearly had no preparation for doing what was supposedly his "career"? That he couldn't answer questions coherently, or without blaming the questioners in the audience and telling them that what they said was their experience wasn't really their experience? That he actually had to bail on the audience because he realized he couldn't hack doing what he advertised himself as an expert at? And then Avery didn't say "there, there" afterward and hand him a lollipop to make him feel better? And I don't have any idea what "baseless assumptions" she made, except that everything he was saying served to reinforce antiquated gender clichés--which is exactly the truth of the matter. I assume by "tell at them" you meant to type "yell at them"? When did she do that? I didn't see her taking offense at anything, but he sure got butt-hurt big time, without actually being called to account directly for all the nonsense he said. Most of his wounded feelings were based on conclusions he was projecting onto her about how inadequate he was. And that's the one thing he was right about.

Thar she blows? Seriously, I wouldn't want to be standing near her when those things explode. Oy. At least the Bierman girls have something to aspire to.

I'm all for it. It would be a great gift to the gene pool. And we know Ed loves pools. Speaking of Ed and Rosemarie, I wonder who took those photos she posts in social media and uses as her avatars. She doesn't look anything like them in real life--they're very flattering and highly produced. Wouldn't it cost relatively serious money to have someone style her, airbrush her, do her hair, take such professional photos? I don't know much about it, but it seems all that wouldn't come cheap.

I Googled, too, and found the same. The daughters are mentioned everywhere, but no mention of the son. And yet I can't see how he could be from a previous marriage, since he's clearly younger than the daughters. Also, Chase has apparently been married only once, to the wife he met in college. It's very odd.

This. And then when they do meet in person, most of them seem to end up finding each other repugnant. So there's that.

I hear you, sister. I had a crown fall out the other day, with no hope of going to the dentist. So the first thing I did was make a batch of mashed potatoes. Sometimes nothing else will do. Fortunately, the empty spot is in the back, so I don't look like a hobo when I smile, but still . . .