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{Wednesday, February 01, 2006}

Note to self: Next time desire chicken salad, buy it at Whole Foods. Cost = no object.

Needless to say, I just made chicken salad. What a pain in the ass! After making the 'easy mayo sauce', I decided to double the recipe (one cup of chicken, pul-leeze) and doubled the sauce. Then, reading down - I see that only 3 T. of such sauce is required. Needless to say, I have an abundance of this substance. Hopefully they have other recipes that will require it.

I also made corn and black bean salad. I had to make some changes. It seemed dry as hell, so I put in some diced tomatoes (canned, of course). I also put just a tiny bit of dry cilantro since practically everyone hates it except for me.

I did discover reason #672 why I don't care for cooking. I hate to get my hands wet. I hate to get stuff on my hands. Cooking seems to lend itself to getting disgusting stuff on your hands (see, chopping chicken) which forces you to wash them. Which forces you to get them wet. Which I hate.

The Burberry hangs just a few feet away. I need to run Mr. Stinky Pants off of the futon and take the final pictures. Another tip: Don't store a wool suit in a closet with three rabbit fur coats. The rabbit doesn't know how to keep it's fur to itself. Probably the rabbit's revenge for being skinned and made into a coat.
posted by Lisa 4:27 PM

There is a noticeable lack of fat grams in my Lean Cuisine. I think the copious amount of basil is supposed to distract you from it. I noticed the basil, but I also noticed my immediate desire to cover it with parmesan.

I was out and about today (washed van! returned item! returned clothes to school nurse! finally went to bank!), it suddenly came to my attention that I was wearing Mom Jeans. Oddly enough, since I chose a sheer white shirt today, I was wearing a bra. Well, those crazy eddie bauer jeans were mere centimeters away from rubbing it while I was in the van. I was also wearing tennis shoes, completing the look. Oh my god. I hope no one saw me.

I had another little fashion grin at the Target checkout. I plucked the new Vogue out of the stand and into the cart. (Drew Barrymore with boobs in check on the cover) I was reminded of a time that Jennifer came home and I was wearing a garish combinations of blue boxers covered in bright sunflowers with a Hawaiian-esqe print shirt. And she said, "I can tell you've been reading fashion magazines lately." Smartass.

Still haven't listed those suits. Losing interest in it (well, not that I ever was interested!), but I may force myself. If it's that or the torture of the eliptical, Burberry here I come.
posted by Lisa 2:12 PM

A-P week forges on with freecycling, spot treatment on listing items, mailing odds and ends, and (drumroll please) exercise! That's right - after a year (I'd guess) - I tried out Jennifer's eliptical and turned my muscle-free legs into spasming rubber bands.

Today's plans include listing some suits I've had forever, sorting all of the Got To Go clothing and maybe (shrinks back in fear and horror), cleaning my desk.
posted by Lisa 8:29 AM

{Tuesday, January 31, 2006}

You may be wondering what I've gotten done here on Day 2 of Anti-Procrastination week. Oh, I'm sure you're curious.

Well. I filled out and mailed health insurance forms. I paid ambulance bills from September. I called for even more medical statements to file. I'm a glutton over here. Next up? Tax form review and maybe even a huge PI (procrastinated item).
posted by Lisa 12:15 PM

Well, it's anti-procrastination week for me and this is certainly on that list. Blogging, that is. In other areas I have parsed Morgan's closet and also taken her to order new glasses. Hers have been lost for about 6 weeks. I give! Today I intend to file some insurance forms from 2005 and start the taxes. There are so many opportunities for anti-procrastination -- it boggles the mind.

In current events, how do I know that James Frey is toast? Because even my husband knows that, 'that fella is in trouble' and he is 100% bonafide out of the social culture of the United States. When my husband, who wouldn't be able to name Paris Hilton out of a line-up, knows you're screwed, then my friend, you are screwed.

Kid Joke:

Q: Why didn't the bear cross the road?

A: He was too stuffed.

Thanks to Morgan
posted by Lisa 8:19 AM