Exactly Different.

I hate recipes that claim you can make something exactly like a famous restaurant. It's never true.

Granted, my mom did make some pretty amazing Winger's sauce from scratch. Good? Yes. A perfect reproduction. No.

Because no matter how much you try and convince me, it is impossible to make baked chicken that tastes 'exactly like KFC!'. Fried is fried people.

My mom is especially guilty of this.
She hates spending money so much that she insists on making everything from scratch. 'Just like the real thing'.

Except it never is.
And I am always disappointed.

I'll come home, describing my immediate need for a McDouble and she'll happily pipe in, "Why don't you just make one?"
"Because you don't have the ingredients.", I'll respond.
"Oh sure we do." she'll counter, "Everything you could possibly need."
"Buns?", I'll question.
"Well... no." she'll interject, "But you could make some!"
"Hamburger patties?"
"Hamburger that you can form into a patty."
"Cheese?"
"Swiss is just as good, right?"
"Pickles?"
"Bread and butter flavor."
"Onions?"
"Oh wait. I just ran out of those."
"MUSTARD??"
"Dijon..."

Yep. Exact replica, Mom.

What you should know about my mom is that she is an amazing cook. Without fail, every time I visit the house, she's in the process of whipping up some new concoction that she found in one of her beloved Home and Garden cookbooks.

And everyone knows that her homemade bread is to die for.
Especially the artisan bread. Mmm...

But the woman substitutes ingredients like there's no tomorrow.
This habit usually results in success but sometimes, oh sometimes, DISASTER.

I only need utter the word 'Chutnagna' in the Haymore household and it sends an immediate chill down every spine. Long story short, chutney can not be used instead of spaghetti sauce when making lasagna.

Even our trusty dog, Rowdy, wouldn't eat it.

And so today I make a desperate plea.
Do not try and convince me that your creation is 'exactly like the real thing'. It's not.

It may be tasty. It may be delicious. I may eat it.
A lot of it.

But, by golly, when I want a McDouble,
digging for change in the sofa becomes incredibly worth it.

My Fingers Hurt...

In case you haven't heard, I am now a seamstress for the masses.
A certain aforementioned brother-in-law, known for his zealous teasing tendencies, stopped by my office to drop off a bag of pants that needed hemming.

"Take off a couple inches or so.", he instructed.
"Uh... How much exactly then?...", I questioned concernedly.
"Well, they're 36 and need to be 32. So, four.", he responded.
"Is that how men's pant measurements work?", I replied.
"I dunno.", he shrugged and then proceeded to loudly embarrass me in front of my coworkers.

So this should be interesting. Apparently, he trusts me wholeheartedly. Let's hope that doesn't come back to bite him.

But the real kicker is when he announced that I had 'volunteered' for the job. Not quite how I remember it... In fact, I don't think I've ever volunteered to be anyone's personal slave in my life.

It's just... happened. Over and over again.

Perhaps my favorite stories, involving sewing and servitude, are as follows.

Story #1: My eldest sister, Jenny, frequently requisitions my services for sewing projects. From bedroom drapes to ill-fitting swimwear to baptismal dresses. But the project that most stands out in my mind was when she commissioned I 'help her' create a shower curtain for her father-in-law's new camping trailer.

She provided me the material & dimensions and set me to work. Before long, I delivered the (perfectly, I might add) finished product. Jokingly, she mentioned that her in-law would love her forever for helping him with this small task.

Thinking no more of it, I went on my way. It wasn't until several weeks later that I discovered the truth. Naturally, her father-in-law was grateful. Grateful to HER. The little turkey had taken all of the credit. I'm sure my name hadn't even come up over the course of their pleasantries. Throw me under the bus why don't cha...

Story #2: 'Someone' (who prefers to remain unnamed) apparently learned from story #1 that dishonesty pays off. Because for a subsequent English project, they pawned off two princess dresses and cloaks, made for my nieces, that I had lovingly paid for and slaved over for hours on end as her own work.

And they got an A. AN A.
From my blood, sweat and tears!

Ah... the humanity!

So it all goes to show, Corinner-Elly has been used ill. Very ill.
But I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment in that way. I just can't say 'no'.

Let alone HAIL no.

'Peas' Don't Make me Eat Them.

Due to a lack of inspiration for an entertaining post today, I shall document my favorite and least favorite fruits and vegetables and my love/aversion to them.

Thrilling, I know.
Here's the gist: peas and squash are nasty.
Watermelon, peaches and cherries are delicious.

Peas, or 'little green abominations' as I like to call them, should be banished from off the face of the Earth. Nothing good has ever come from eating a pea, cooked or raw.

They are simply little squishy balls of death.
Determined to ruin my fried rice.

The same with squash. Anything with a stringy consistency should not be eaten. Except for mango. Mangoes are delicious. I guess that the difference is mangoes taste good behind all that stringy-ness. And squash does not.

I have been told that I am crazy for this viewpoint. Hundreds of times, in fact. *cough, mom* That squash, with a little pad of butter and salt/pepper, is delicious and nutritious.

I still hold that anything, given enough butter, can be edible.
But what, pray tell, happens when you don't have enough butter to douse it in?...

No, no. Peas and squash. Do not eat them.
Stick with versatile vegetables like potatoes and green beans.

Watermelon, on the other hand, I could eat everyday for every meal. Especially when it's nice and cold. Every year, I'm sad to see summer come and go for this reason especially.

Why-oh-why can't you last all year watermelon season?

Same with peaches.
Someday, I'm going to have an orchard of peach trees. And I'm going to eat peaches with sugar and milk every morning for breakfast. I am.

Scratch that. I'm going to have an orchard of peach and cherry trees. Don't want to leave my very favoritest fruit out.

Cherry is, by far, my favorite flavor. Everything is better with it.

Cherry pie, Sonic cherry CreamSlush, cherry chapstick, Jergen's cherry-almond lotion. Maraschino cherries, cherry cordials, pretty-please with a cherry on top. You get the idea.

There is nothing that cannot be improved by a cherry. Or two. Or seven.
Actually, I take that back. Peas can not be improved by a cherry on top. Squash either.

Some things are just beyond the magical powers of the cherry.

Normally, Crazy-Interesting.

There are about five-million times each day when I'm reading some witty quote on Pinterest and think to myself, "That is so totally me!"

So after thinking that the five-millionth time, I decided it was about time I compiled a list. Don't cha think?

And so, without further ado,

25 things you should know about Corinner-Elly:

1) I adore spontaneity, providing it is carefully planned.
2) I'm a recovering people pleaser. (Is that okay?...)
3) My fear is that PMS doesn't exist and this is my real personality.
4) When I say I won't tell anyone, my best friend doesn't count.
5) I eat my feelings and they taste delicious.
6) Sometimes, the best part of my job is that my chair swivels.
7) I may look calm, but in my head I've killed you three times.
8) If eye-rolling burned calories, I'd be anorexic.
9) I have an irrational fear of wasting a good outfit on an insignificant day.
10) When I'm feeling sick, I Google my symptoms and usually find out I have cancer.
11) My only professional ambition is to get a desk where no one can see my computer screen other than me.
12) When I die, I want my last words to be, "I left a million dollars under the..."
13) I hate it when I'm drinking and the ice just attacks my face.
14) I'm the type of girl who will burst out laughing in dead silence because of something that happened yesterday.
15) I do many things well, none of which generate income.
16) If I ever had to run for my life, I'd probably die.
17) I hate it when I don't forward a chain letter, and I die the next day.
18) I don't have pet peeves, I have whole kennels of irritation.
19) I hate it when crumbs fall in my cleavage. Sometimes, my boobs eat more than I do.
20) If you tickle me, I'm not responsible for your injuries.
21) I'm sarcastic and have a smart a** attitude. It's a natural defense against drama, bull crap and stupidity.
22) I have CDO. It's like OCD but all of the letters are in alphabetical order, like they should be.
23) I don't need to flirt. I seduce people with my awkwardness.
24) I try not to laugh at my own jokes, but we all know I'm hilarious.
25) I'm still haunted by the things I did for a Klondike Bar.

So there it is. Me in a nutshell.
Don't judge.

According to my niece, Allie, people fall into one of three categories: normal, interesting or crazy. And the way I see it, there is only one possible choice when describing me.

And we all know what that is, right?...

WTFrick?...

Is it just me, or have common text acronyms such as 'lol' lost their original meaning an/or context?

I mean, for me at least, 'lol' has changed from meaning 'lots of laughter' or 'laughing out loud' to 'I find that slightly amusing'. Of course, LOL still means I'm dying from hilarity, but you get my point.

And why do some people insist on writing in all caps
ALL OF THE TIME?...

Are they literally yelling non-stop? Because that cannot be good for the throat. That or their keyboard is broken, in which case, I'd think they'd refrain from posting comments on Facebook until it was repaired.

Either way, it's annoying.

But it's ridiculous how many text and chat acronyms there are now. I thought I knew most of them until I moved in with Lacy-Hacy.

That girl has introduced me to a great many new things...
My mom is concerned.

One of which being SOL. (Sh** out of luck. Surely, if you're ladylike.)
Am I the only one who had no idea what this means?...

Likewise with SSDD. (Same sh**, different day.)
You can tell she has a favorite swear.

But you can make any phrase into an acronym, really. Don't know why you would want to, it would probably create unnecessary confusion. But still.

For instance, typing IRBAWAWTEAC is surely not as effective as just saying 'I'm really bored at work and want to eat a corndog'. But some people are just addicted, I guess. I figure they figure it's easier to say 'lol' when they have nothing to say than to say nothing at all.

I'm more of a proponent of not saying anything unless you have something worth saying. But I dunno... whatever floats your boat.

In any case,
GTG. TTYL.

Clan Conspiracies.

On Monday, I brought 'someone' home to meet the family.
He was subjected to the expected interrogation and mild insults.
All manageable.

We were, however, luckily enough to have missed a certain brother-in-law, who was absent due to some twist of fate. What a relief.

It was the annual Haymore pumpkin carving/painting FHE, and we, of course, were determined to walk away with the best design respectively.

By the end of the night, we had both completed veritable masterpieces, I with swirling carved forms and he with a sculpted depiction of Oogie Boogie from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

The drive home consisted of debating whose was better. He insisted that mine was not technically 'Halloween' worthy, and therefore inferior while I maintained that my concept was entirely superior.

Being the saint that I am, I offered that we might both consider ourselves grand prize winners, I in the 'Autumn' category and he in the 'Halloween'. But he swiftly refused, claiming that he and only he was worthy of 'gold place'. (I'm pretty sure this is a mixture of 'gold star' and '1st place', but who knows?...)

We decided that the only way to settle it was to take a vote and seeing that everyone in my apartment would naturally vote for me, I decided to post it to Facebook. Leave it up to the good people of the web to decide.

The voting started off well, and it wasn't long before I was in the lead.

But apparently, I was not fully aware of the bond he had somehow formed with every single member of my immediate family during such a short visit. Because less than 24-hours later, he had already earned the entire population's votes.

Including several of the family dogs.

This is why I both love and hate my family at the same time.
Love because they always come together and do things as a team.

Hate because, in this instance, the team effort was aimed at destroying me and my pumpkin personally.

In fact, since writing this post, there have been several new additions to the 'We Love Dan' club. Pretty sure this is mutiny of some kind.

So thanks a bunch, fam.
I have never met such a determined group of people so set on watching me squirm. And let me tell ya, you've succeeded.

I was told blood ran thicker than water. But now...?
I see how it is.

Brush it Off.

In high school, I remember hearing someone rant about how they absolutely hated it when people brushed their teeth anywhere other than the bathroom.

I sat there thinking, "That's the lamest thing I've ever heard."
Dental hygiene is the most monotonous and mindless activity that we are forced to repeat, at least twice a day. Why not multi-task and kill two birds with one stone.

I, for example, as part of my morning routine, make my bed while brushing my teeth. It sounds intensive when really it's not. Brush in front, throw the pillows in a pile. Brush in back, tuck in the corners. See? Easy peasy.

Doing something while brushing your teeth is both fun and productive.
I can think of nothing that you can't do while brushing.

Granted, there are things that you probably wouldn't want to do while brushing, eating being at the forefront of my mind, but that's beside the point.

I solidly reserve the right to brush whenever and where ever I please. Be it in front of the TV or while checking the mail.

So it's no surprise that after having an entire conversation with my mother this morning she finally commented, "Why does it sound like you have mush in your mouth?"

Yup.
I was shinin' them pearly whites.

Pointless Holidays.

Happy Colombus Day everyone!
Do you know what this means!??

Neither do I.

I thought holidays were about celebration?...
So how is it that I'm at work... on a holiday?

By all accounts, it doesn't make any sense.

I think it's a travesty to call Columbus Day a holiday.
And tell me why, exactly, we commemorate Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday on an annual basis? Washington too. They're not the only human beings who've ever done something noteworthy. Why do they get special attention?

At least I get a break on Labor and Memorial Days.
Even if I'm not exactly sure what I should be doing to celebrate...

I think if the government is going to fabricate silly holidays and then do nothing in order to set them apart from the mundane, we should find creative ways to celebrate on our own.

For instance:

Brilliant, no!?

I plan on doing exactly that this afternoon.

Okay, maybe 'house' can be loosely interpreted as 'Lacy-Hacy's room' here, but you get the idea.

If you're not so dedicated, you can always visit someecard.com where they have a hilarious assortment of Columbus Day ecards for your viewing delight.

I am.

And will be for approximately the next hour and fifteen minutes at which point my shift will end and I will be heading to the D.I. in search of my imagined Halloween costume.

Wish me luck.

I Swear on My Life.

I know how much you all love 'storytime', so I thought I'd oblige you today. This excerpt came from a recent conversation I had with my mother and it went a little something like this:

Me: *ring*
Mom: "Hello?"
Me: "Hi."
Mom: "Hi!"
Me: "Hi... How's your day been going?"
Mom: "Pretty good."
Me: "What did you do?"
Mom: "Gardened. Yoga. Made bread. The usual. You?"
Me: "Went to work. Took a nap. The usual."
Mom: "Huh."
Me: "Yah... so... just calling so that you feel all loved and everything and know I'm still alive."
Mom: "Well that's good. Thank you." (Notice refusal to acknowledge sarcasm.)
Me: "Okay... well... love you."
Mom: "Love you too. Wait, wait, wait. I have something to talk to you about." (insert concern) "I was looking over your Facebook wall recently and there seems to be a whole lot of profanity going on there. I want to you know, I do not approve."
Me: *laughing incredulously* "Please define 'a whole lot' of profanity. I need examples."
Mom: "Well there was that word spelled out by blocks in your room..."
Me: "That was compliments of Lacy-Hacy."
Mom: "And what about that sign on the back of your door?"
Me: "Oh, right. That was definitely me."
Mom: "I don't think it's very fitting for a young lady to be using such language. I'm sure boys find it very inappropriate."
Me: "I'm sure boys find it hilarious."
Mom: *disapproving silence*

Which leads me to my topic of 'blog'scussion for the day.
(I just made that word up. It just popped right out of my head.)

Swearing vs. profanity.
I, for one, believe there is a distinct difference between the two.

For instance, I find it extremely entertaining when someone who you would never have guessed to be a potty-mouth, spouts out a curse word as if they're some bad A.

The perfect example being Sheldon from TBBT.
Declarations of "Damn you wallet nook dot com." and "Oh, gravity. Thou art a heartless bitch." bring me immense amounts of joy. Because to me, jovial cursings aren't vulgar.

It's when someone uses these words in an angry or confrontational manner that I become uncomfortable. And I've been hearing quite a bit of that lately.

Namely, I'm pretty sure my boss suffers from Tourettes Syndrome.

I'll be sitting at my desk, looking all pretty and pleasant when I hear a stream of obscenities a mile long filter past my desk. The first time it happened, I looked around nervously, trying to verify that everyone else had heard what I just heard.

There was no reaction. Not even a blink of an eye.
Thinking it rather strange but not wanting to seem impertinent, I falteringly went on with my duties.

But alas. It happened again. And again.
I am beginning to think that I'm going a bit craysee-craysee.

Because, apparently, I am supposed to refer to customers as 'guests', be as welcoming as possible and always, ALWAYS assume that they are right.

Whereas, management is allowed to pawn off visitors to various departments, stomp around melodramatically and delight all surrounding ears with the melodious mixings of venom filled expletives.

So, swearing isn't always profanity.
Is it just me, or would you agree?

I mean, swear words are just words. Their connotation comes from the method and the intent with which you use them.

It's like how my group of girl friends lovingly refer to each other as 'hoes' and 'skanks'. (But never sl**. That's unnecessary...) It means absolutely nothing to us, because of course we don't mean it in the literal sense of the words.

The amusement comes from the irony in calling a bunch of Molly-Mormons harlots.

But accidentally yell "You hoe!" when your mother intentionally sprays you, your freshly baked banana bars and all of your clean clothes with the hose upon immediately stepping out of your vehicle , and all hell's going to break loose.

Sorry Mom.
"Heck."

Caught Napping.

It's funny how things work out sometimes.

I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'm doing with my life. Especially with my degree. Up until this point, I've known exactly what I should be doing and when I should be doing it.

I went to grade school, middle school, jr. high and high school because that was the natural line-up of things. Then I went to college because I knew it was expected of me.

Four years later, I'm finding myself at odds with what to do next?...

I went on a fantastical trip abroad, had an amazing carefree summer and now I work part-time from 8-1 as a receptionist/cashier at a car dealership.

How does this apply to my desired field of interior design?
Simply stated, it doesn't.

Unless you count designing the magazine placement in the waiting room.
I do that a lot.

But then again, being a working professional never was what I wanted to do. I've wanted to be a mother and homemaker for as long as I can remember. Perhaps with a small home business but at home, nonetheless. Seeking a degree and a full-time career was only something I did in order to be practical about my life and about what may or may not happen for me.

But I'm tired of being practical.
I want a break gosh dang it!

I went four-years, non-stop from eight in the morning 'til eight at night doing crap that I really didn't want to do with a smile on my face. (Well... most of the time.) And now I deserve some rest.

So I feel no shame in taking a nap.
Every day. Sometimes for three hours.

Last time I checked, it's not illegal.

Favorite reactions from certain family members, who shall (but probably shouldn't) remain nameless,  usually fall within three categories: disgust, jealousy or remand.

They're disgusted when they call at three in the afternoon and discover upon my groggy answer that I've been sleeping. They're jealous that I have enough open time to allow such leisure. Then they usually rebuke my lifestyle, commenting that I'd 'better not get used to such a schedule if I plan on having 10 children'.

Really??

I am perfectly aware that it won't go on forever.
What better reason then to savor it while it lasts?...

Because it doesn't last long. No it doesn't.
I know this because this morning I was notified that I will soon be promoted to assistant office manager. It will be a full-time position with benefits and my own desk. Hoo-sha.

And though it has absolutely nothing to do with my degree, I'm content.
I always knew that there was the possibility of working in an entirely different field.

So I'll spend my days doing what I need to do, my nights doing what I want to do and my weekends doing what I probably shouldn't do.

All the while never forgetting about my ultimate goal.
Ridiculously long naps or no.