You all have heard of nation building and its associated ills. Partake of this activity with me: world building, I like to call it. Enacting public change or creating a stir with the aim of jarring people out of their apathy and making them think. The wider the area of effect, the better.
Today, I wrote on the back window of my car with bright red non-toxic paint, '37 mpg' and then, in smaller letters, 'I don't drive it cause it's sexy.'
I got three waves and a peace sign on the drive from League City to downtown Houston. People see it, and they respond. Also, lots of assholes in large trucks and diesel-driven cars felt the need to tailgate me, then whip around and drive 80 mph to show off what their fuel-eating vehicles can do. Seriously, you mutant jack-offs, it just makes chicks hate you more.
Try doing the same. Write your gas mileage on your car. It will either haunt you and remind you of how much you're paying for how little, or it will get others to think. Car companies are bragging about having gas mileage a little over 22 mpg-- uh, Fix-It to Homebase: whisky tango foxtrot? Early 90s compacts got 35 mpg average. Your auto industry is lying to you... not that that's anything new.
Next, I am slowly piecing together the parts for a very sexy, very cheap, very fast electric car. Because it CAN be done, it can EASILY be done, and it can even more easily be done by ME. And if I can do it, you regular jack-offs can at least try.
Furthermore, I am rooting for This Poor Bastard. Michael Skelly is the owner of an alternative energy business in Houston, and he's challenging 8-year incumbent John Culberson.
John Culberson: Voted down S-CHIP, hates Mexicans, hates black people, hates renewable energy, hates the Middle East, and supports drilling oil out of the continental shelf and in Alaska.
Michael Skelly: Wants affordable health care for all Texans, likes everyone, is liked by everyone, owns and operates a renewable energy company, thinks drilling oil is for pussies who can't reduce oil dependence, would like to see Iraq run their own damn nation, and is a freakin' genius.
Now, here's the problem. The Texas-7 district contains two very powerful neighborhoods: Katy, and Montrose. Katy is full of white people who don't want basketball courts in their neighborhoods because they're afraid it will encourage gang violence. Montrose is full of people who don't usually vote because they're too busy being unwashed hippies or homosexuals trying to survive in Texas. The result: 8 years of service and full pension from Uncle Sam for a douchebag who hates everyone who isn't anglo, german, or scandinavian.
Vote Skelly, because he's not a mutant jack-off.
All the worst,
Lyn
02 July 2008
07 April 2008
Soapbox #1
A restaurant review:
Sake Lounge on Smith and Texas, downtown, makes wonderful sashimi, and the best sticky rice with plum sauce I have ever tasted. Go on Sunday evenings, when no one is there, to get the fastest service and the best presentation.
Lyn's Kitchen
Recipes for Regular Jack-Offs
Recipe #2: Dirty Hippie Spaghetti
Dear Dirty Hippie;
You will need:
1 slice bread
1 serving spaghetti noodles (or whatever)
1 jar premade spaghetti sauce (check to make sure there's not meat in the sauce)
1 vege burger patty (I use Morning Star Griller's Prime, because I'm a picky bitch)
Garlic salt
Butter (or margarine, if you're a dirty Vegan hippie)
Basil
Fill your small pot with water (from the tap. You'll live. I promise.) and set it on the stove. Put your stove on the setting appropriate for boiling water.
Put your vege burger patty on a small plate, and put it in the microwave for 1/2 the recommended time listed on the box. When it's done, take it out of the microwave and use a paper napkin or towel to blot off the vege grease / water. Set this aside.
Prepare your noodles-- try putting a tiny bit of basil in the water as they boil. It gives your noodles a hint of tasty basil. When you've boiled your noodles somewhere between al dente and blob-of-starch, drain them. Put them on your dinner plate, they're done.
Now, (use the same pot), put in as much spaghetti sauce as you think you'll need. Now, put in a little more. Screw the lid back on your jar of spaghetti sauce and put it in the fridge-- that shit keeps forever. Put your pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove. Add a little basil, because it's tasty. Also, a little garlic powder-- because garlic is insanely good for you, and premade stuff never has enough of it.
Break your half-heated vege patty into little pieces, and stir the pieces into your spaghetti sauce.
Put your bread in the toaster (/toaster oven. Whatever.). When it pops back out, grab it as fast as you can (if your fingers aren't burning, you're doing it wrong) and smear some butter on it. Sprinkle some garlic powder on it. Put it on your dinner plate, as far away from the noodles as possible.
When your spaghetti sauce is simmering, turn off the heat and let it sit for a minute while you stare into the abyss of your fridge and decide what you want to drink. When you've got that figured out, return to the sauce pot (shut the damn fridge door) and remove it from the stove. Dump it on your noodles.
Enjoy. For best results, wash your dishes within eight hours of food prep, or the tomato-based spaghetti sauce will fuse to your sauce-pot, and everything you make from now on will taste like ass.
An Explanation of the Post Title
I held a party at my apartment on Saturday night. It was amazing. We gathered at the top of my parking garage, herded around midtown looking for food, then met some of my coworkers at a local booze-and-wings spot. After much shuffling around, it was decided that two of my friends would go to Specs before they stopped selling, then meet us out on the porch. We then all herded back to my apartment for mixed drinks and card games, followed by a showing of Orgazmo (giggle-worthy when sober, much better when drunk). A good time was had by most.
I don't let people drive home drunk from my apartment. If they have to drive home, then they hydrate like a mad beast, stay until 03:00, and pass the Lyn Sobriety Test.
However, some people are stupid, and don't have the benefit of the asshole friend who takes people's keys. They will decide that, even though they are drunk, they're not very drunk, and therefore they will drive themselves home anyway. You know the type-- they come speeding out of downtown and midtown and the Montrose area at fifty miles an hour on a dark, crowded city street, completely forgetting that they are pilotting a fucking huge piece of steel and flammables that can easily obliterate most things in its path. Your car or truck is dangerous. If you're not smart enough or patient enough or have a long enough attention span to drive, you shouldn't. If you're drunk, you should consider cutting off your testicles or removing your own ovaries with a spoon before you should ever even think about getting behind the wheel of a car, you brainless maggots.
I had a friend over at the party who is underage. I plead the fifth on the alcohol issue, because I know his parents let him drink-- indeed, encourage him to drink, because he is in his early adult years and needs to run that phase out while his attention span is still short enough that he'll get bored with it, rather than becoming a raging alcoholic. He also, it's worth mentioning, has the best of all possible parents. Even this kid knows drinking and driving is fucking stupid.
Take a hint, readers. Be the friend that takes the keys away. Be the friend that stops drinking at midnight so they can drive their drunk idiot friends home at 02:00. Do not be one of the thrice-weekly drunk driving accidents I can see from the window of my apartment. It's not funny. It's not attractive. And it's not smart. So quit doing it.
But still, eat, drink, and be merry. Because tomorrow you could be run over by some jack-off in a Hummer who wants to prove how big his dick is by speeding around downtown after five beers.
Love,
Lyn
Sake Lounge on Smith and Texas, downtown, makes wonderful sashimi, and the best sticky rice with plum sauce I have ever tasted. Go on Sunday evenings, when no one is there, to get the fastest service and the best presentation.
Lyn's Kitchen
Recipes for Regular Jack-Offs
Recipe #2: Dirty Hippie Spaghetti
Lyn;
Here's a challenge. I'm broke, I'm busy, and I'm a vegetarian. How can I make a meatless meal in a hurry?
Sincerely,
Doesn't Bring Home the Bacon
Dear Dirty Hippie;
You will need:
1 slice bread
1 serving spaghetti noodles (or whatever)
1 jar premade spaghetti sauce (check to make sure there's not meat in the sauce)
1 vege burger patty (I use Morning Star Griller's Prime, because I'm a picky bitch)
Garlic salt
Butter (or margarine, if you're a dirty Vegan hippie)
Basil
Fill your small pot with water (from the tap. You'll live. I promise.) and set it on the stove. Put your stove on the setting appropriate for boiling water.
Put your vege burger patty on a small plate, and put it in the microwave for 1/2 the recommended time listed on the box. When it's done, take it out of the microwave and use a paper napkin or towel to blot off the vege grease / water. Set this aside.
Prepare your noodles-- try putting a tiny bit of basil in the water as they boil. It gives your noodles a hint of tasty basil. When you've boiled your noodles somewhere between al dente and blob-of-starch, drain them. Put them on your dinner plate, they're done.
Now, (use the same pot), put in as much spaghetti sauce as you think you'll need. Now, put in a little more. Screw the lid back on your jar of spaghetti sauce and put it in the fridge-- that shit keeps forever. Put your pot of spaghetti sauce on the stove. Add a little basil, because it's tasty. Also, a little garlic powder-- because garlic is insanely good for you, and premade stuff never has enough of it.
Break your half-heated vege patty into little pieces, and stir the pieces into your spaghetti sauce.
Put your bread in the toaster (/toaster oven. Whatever.). When it pops back out, grab it as fast as you can (if your fingers aren't burning, you're doing it wrong) and smear some butter on it. Sprinkle some garlic powder on it. Put it on your dinner plate, as far away from the noodles as possible.
When your spaghetti sauce is simmering, turn off the heat and let it sit for a minute while you stare into the abyss of your fridge and decide what you want to drink. When you've got that figured out, return to the sauce pot (shut the damn fridge door) and remove it from the stove. Dump it on your noodles.
Enjoy. For best results, wash your dishes within eight hours of food prep, or the tomato-based spaghetti sauce will fuse to your sauce-pot, and everything you make from now on will taste like ass.
An Explanation of the Post Title
I held a party at my apartment on Saturday night. It was amazing. We gathered at the top of my parking garage, herded around midtown looking for food, then met some of my coworkers at a local booze-and-wings spot. After much shuffling around, it was decided that two of my friends would go to Specs before they stopped selling, then meet us out on the porch. We then all herded back to my apartment for mixed drinks and card games, followed by a showing of Orgazmo (giggle-worthy when sober, much better when drunk). A good time was had by most.
I don't let people drive home drunk from my apartment. If they have to drive home, then they hydrate like a mad beast, stay until 03:00, and pass the Lyn Sobriety Test.
However, some people are stupid, and don't have the benefit of the asshole friend who takes people's keys. They will decide that, even though they are drunk, they're not very drunk, and therefore they will drive themselves home anyway. You know the type-- they come speeding out of downtown and midtown and the Montrose area at fifty miles an hour on a dark, crowded city street, completely forgetting that they are pilotting a fucking huge piece of steel and flammables that can easily obliterate most things in its path. Your car or truck is dangerous. If you're not smart enough or patient enough or have a long enough attention span to drive, you shouldn't. If you're drunk, you should consider cutting off your testicles or removing your own ovaries with a spoon before you should ever even think about getting behind the wheel of a car, you brainless maggots.
I had a friend over at the party who is underage. I plead the fifth on the alcohol issue, because I know his parents let him drink-- indeed, encourage him to drink, because he is in his early adult years and needs to run that phase out while his attention span is still short enough that he'll get bored with it, rather than becoming a raging alcoholic. He also, it's worth mentioning, has the best of all possible parents. Even this kid knows drinking and driving is fucking stupid.
Take a hint, readers. Be the friend that takes the keys away. Be the friend that stops drinking at midnight so they can drive their drunk idiot friends home at 02:00. Do not be one of the thrice-weekly drunk driving accidents I can see from the window of my apartment. It's not funny. It's not attractive. And it's not smart. So quit doing it.
But still, eat, drink, and be merry. Because tomorrow you could be run over by some jack-off in a Hummer who wants to prove how big his dick is by speeding around downtown after five beers.
Love,
Lyn
25 March 2008
18 March 2008
Lyn's Kitchen #1, The Challenge
Disclaimer: I'm skinny. Seriously skinny. I wear a size double-Ethiopian-- I'm that skinny. My blood pressure is so low, for all intents and purposes I can be treated as a zombie. As a result, all of my recipes show no regard for weight-loss; they are not intentionally low-carb, low fat, or low sodium. It will probably not fit into your diet.
Today, from Lyn's kitchen, we have:
----
Everyone has been in the situation of lacking essential grocery items. After a long couple of weeks with no time off of work, sometimes you find yourself with a package of chicken ramen, a potato, three sticks of celery, some ketchup, and a bag of flour. This is seldom a no-win situation-- ingenuity will most often see you to a semi-tastey, mostly-edible meal. For example, in the situation above, dice the potatos, boil them; when they're almost squishy, throw in the ramen without the seasoning package and boil until the noodles are gooey, adding three or four tablespoons of flour to adjust the consistancy. Dice the celery and throw it in for crunch, drain some of the water out. Add 1/4 of the seasoning bag (that shit is strong), and ketchup to taste. Voila; a sodium seizure on a plate (or in a bowl, or the pot, depending on what's clean).
So I issue our meagre readership a challenge-- send me the list of groceries you have at your disposal, and I will create something mostly-edible for you.
Today, from Lyn's kitchen, we have:
Three Season Salmon
You will need:
1 small pot
1 small fry pan
1 knife
1 fork
1 spatula of the plastic variety
Ingredients:
1 piece fish (however much you like)
Basil to taste
Two tablespoons (ish) butter, unsalted
Egg noodles of any variety (I used spaghetti)
1 small purple (that's not red, seriously. Are they fuckin' blind?) onion
1.5 tablespoons Mustard
Dill to taste
Garlic Salt, lots.
First, fill the small pot with water and start it boiling. In the small fry pan, put one tablespoon of butter, and start simmering at low heat. The goal right now is to melt the butter. DO NOT BURN THE BUTTER. Burned butter is not tastey. Chop up some onion (as much as makes you happy) and dump that in the melty butter. Add garlic salt just until you can smell it. Allow this to simmer.
By now, the water in the small pot should be boiling-- add however much pasta you'll want to eat. Don't add salt to help it boil, you'll ruin the effect. Let the pasta boil awhile. Cut the fish into pieces roughly the size of your palm. Leave the skin on one side. Dust the non-scaly side with garlic salt and basil, and throw it in with the onions and all that butter, spice-side down. Once you start to smell the basil sizzling, turn the fish scaly side down. Idly flip the onions around the pan to amuse yourself while the fish is cooking.
Check the noodles. They're probably not done yet. After about a minute and a half, when the boredom is beginning to eat at your last nerve, flip the fish spice-side down again, and use the edge of the spatula to peel off the skin. Throw the skin in the garbage, or compost it if you're not having anyone over to your house for a good long while. Dust the now-bare side of the fish with garlic powder and a little basil, and flip it newly-spiced side down.
The noodles are probably nice and squiggly now-- if it sticks to the wall when you throw one, take the pot off the burner and drain the water out. Use that fork to prevent the noodles from escaping to the sink, then put the noodles on your plate. Put the remaining tablespoon of butter on the noodles, and flip them around with your fork until they're all coated.
Go back and flip the fish. Is it done? It should be light pink all the way through. If it is, turn off the heat, but leave the fry pan on the burner and pretend you're using every last bit of the coal-generated electricity it took to heat that burner.
Put some basil on the noodles. Some. Not a lot. Be careful, it's strong. For a single serving of pasta, I used about 1.5 teaspoons. Whatever. Stir that around with the fork.
Use the spatula to remove the fish and the onions from the buttery sludge on the bottom of the pan, and place these on the noodles. Put some mustard on your plate and add dill to it until it tastes right. The mustard is for dipping.
Wash your hands, then go eat.
This dish is high in fat, but the fish oil and all that garlic salt will probably make your arteries so slippery, the fat will slide right off. Also, carbs and starch are a big thing here. Mmm, carbs.
----
The Lyn's Kitchen Challenge
Everyone has been in the situation of lacking essential grocery items. After a long couple of weeks with no time off of work, sometimes you find yourself with a package of chicken ramen, a potato, three sticks of celery, some ketchup, and a bag of flour. This is seldom a no-win situation-- ingenuity will most often see you to a semi-tastey, mostly-edible meal. For example, in the situation above, dice the potatos, boil them; when they're almost squishy, throw in the ramen without the seasoning package and boil until the noodles are gooey, adding three or four tablespoons of flour to adjust the consistancy. Dice the celery and throw it in for crunch, drain some of the water out. Add 1/4 of the seasoning bag (that shit is strong), and ketchup to taste. Voila; a sodium seizure on a plate (or in a bowl, or the pot, depending on what's clean).
So I issue our meagre readership a challenge-- send me the list of groceries you have at your disposal, and I will create something mostly-edible for you.
Odelle, Suburbanite of Houston
Lyn did an intro entry, so I guess I should. I'm Odelle, I'm 23 and working at a hospital in a suburban of Houston. She's got more of the downtown lowdown, so my perspective will be more of that of someone that's gotta drive to visit the "cool" hangouts around Houston.
Tonight is St. Patrick's, so I went to Cellar Bar in Clear Lake to have that whole experience. It was actually kind of dead in there. I got hit on, of course, but he wasn't my type. My coworkers that I was with bailed early. I was still with a friend of mine, so we walked over to the bar next door, Molly's Pub. Despite being Irish, it was almost the same, so I was disappointed.
I've been thinking about going to see Ministry when they come to town, but I'll wait for the next payday to purchase a ticket. I need Cure tickets, too.
I'll keep it short this time. I've gotten a few numbers from people lately, so I'll update if anything happens. Probably not, bars aren't really the place to meet people.
Tonight is St. Patrick's, so I went to Cellar Bar in Clear Lake to have that whole experience. It was actually kind of dead in there. I got hit on, of course, but he wasn't my type. My coworkers that I was with bailed early. I was still with a friend of mine, so we walked over to the bar next door, Molly's Pub. Despite being Irish, it was almost the same, so I was disappointed.
I've been thinking about going to see Ministry when they come to town, but I'll wait for the next payday to purchase a ticket. I need Cure tickets, too.
I'll keep it short this time. I've gotten a few numbers from people lately, so I'll update if anything happens. Probably not, bars aren't really the place to meet people.
17 March 2008
Lyn, Urban Journalist
Lyn is not my real name. If you attempt to track down a disgruntled woman named Lyn, you will probably succeed, but it won't be me.
I am a thin, athletic, mildly attractive woman with no significant psychological hang-ups-- unless you count having standards as a hang-up. Once upon a time, I could only drink wine coolers, but I've worked my way up to Guinness and rum punch. One day, I hope to be able to shoot vodka like a pro. I play keyboards and write music by night, and am an audio technician by day. I like metal music.
I am near-psychotically fearless. This fatalism is likely due to my complete lack of respect for Death as a concept. Buddhism in a nutshell-- this shit has happened before, and it's going to happen again. Everyone dies. One day, I'll die. I hope to die before I need to wear adult diapers.
I was IQ tested numerous times during my primary and secondary education, and the mean score was 168-- but I still do stupid shit, use foul language, and fuck up like a regular jack-off. I recently attempted to involve myself with a local protest organization, but was shunned for using too many big words.
I believe in standards and discrimination-- not based on race, ethnicity, gender, age, sexuality, or religion, but on merit and quality. I believe in true love, women's rights, and earning my own keep. I believe in tolerance of differences, but not of what is wrong-- Budd Select should be tolerated, but Coors Light is Wrong. I believe that we are all responsible for taking care of our earth, for the actions of our elected government, and for living good lives. I believe that people who have random sex are sluts-- but if it makes you happy, whatever. Wear a condom.
These things will all provide you with some perspective on how and why I think and write the way I do. You may agree, you may not. Hopefully, I've already offended you.
Additional useless information:
I like candy. A lot. If you approach me in a dark van and offer me candy, I will taze you and take your candy.
I am a thin, athletic, mildly attractive woman with no significant psychological hang-ups-- unless you count having standards as a hang-up. Once upon a time, I could only drink wine coolers, but I've worked my way up to Guinness and rum punch. One day, I hope to be able to shoot vodka like a pro. I play keyboards and write music by night, and am an audio technician by day. I like metal music.
I am near-psychotically fearless. This fatalism is likely due to my complete lack of respect for Death as a concept. Buddhism in a nutshell-- this shit has happened before, and it's going to happen again. Everyone dies. One day, I'll die. I hope to die before I need to wear adult diapers.
I was IQ tested numerous times during my primary and secondary education, and the mean score was 168-- but I still do stupid shit, use foul language, and fuck up like a regular jack-off. I recently attempted to involve myself with a local protest organization, but was shunned for using too many big words.
I believe in standards and discrimination-- not based on race, ethnicity, gender, age, sexuality, or religion, but on merit and quality. I believe in true love, women's rights, and earning my own keep. I believe in tolerance of differences, but not of what is wrong-- Budd Select should be tolerated, but Coors Light is Wrong. I believe that we are all responsible for taking care of our earth, for the actions of our elected government, and for living good lives. I believe that people who have random sex are sluts-- but if it makes you happy, whatever. Wear a condom.
These things will all provide you with some perspective on how and why I think and write the way I do. You may agree, you may not. Hopefully, I've already offended you.
Additional useless information:
I like candy. A lot. If you approach me in a dark van and offer me candy, I will taze you and take your candy.
Privacy is for People Without Guns
And Texas is for People With Guns
Months ago, a friend of mine and I were walking downtown, and she commented that if both of us were wearing heels, and since there are only two of us, that we would be Second Base in the City. This evolved into a conversation about high heeled shoes, virginity, and urban life. It was determined then and there that we should have Urban Adventures (like regular adventures, except in a region whose general population is, well, a lot), and that we should blog them for the enjoyment of others.
This blog will probably appeal to women and gay men aged 17 to 35, and moreso to citizens of Houston. Or any city that isn't New York, really-- NYC has its nose up its own ass. Seriously.
My fellow Urban Adventure Journalist and I will make separate posts, sometimes about the same thing, to provide you with multiple perspectives on the same event. Also, due to our differences in personality and how we express ourselves, we will introduce ourselves separately.
Every post will begin with the pen-name of who is writing it. Sometimes there may be guest contributors, and he or she will have to introduce his or herself before writing. Their opinions may not reflect the opinions of the blog owners, and the blog owners may not reflect each other's opinions. Every entry remains the intellectual property (and responsibility) of the writer.
Let the games begin.
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