Posted by Miah
Tue, 11 Mar 2008 07:10:00 GMT
- 1 pound boneless beef sirloin steak (or 1 pound ground beef)
- 8 ounce carton dairy sour cream
- 2 tablespoons flour
- 1/2 cup water
- 2 teaspoons instant beef bouillon granules (I omit these if I don’t have them on hand)
- 1/4 teaspoon pepper
- 2 tablespoons butter
- 1 1/2 cups sliced mushrooms (or one small can)
- 1/2 cup chopped onion
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 cups hot cooked noodles (egg noodles taste best to me)
Instructions
- If using steak, trim and then partially freeze. Thinly slice across the grain into bite-size looking strips. Stir together sour cream, flour, water, bouillon, and pepper then set aside.
- If using steak, cook 1/2 in butter in a large skillet over high heat for 2 to 3 minutes (check for doneness to your preference). Remove from skillet. Add remaining meat, mushrooms, onion, and garlic. Cook at stir till meat reaches your preferred doneness. Drain off fat and return all meat and vegetables to skillet. If using ground beef, brown in a small sauce pan and set aside while you saute the veggies in a large skillet with butter until onions are soft. Once vegetables are tender add ground beef to skillet.
- Stir flour mixture into skillet. Cook and stir until thickened (most likely just before a boil) and reduce heat to low for one minute. Serve over noodles.
Tags beefstroganoff, cooking | 2 comments | 1 trackback
Posted by Miah
Sat, 24 Nov 2007 07:44:00 GMT
Written on September 26, 2007
Do women have biological clocks? I’ve heard people talk about them ticking, but I’ve never heard it myself. My inner cynic really wants this to exist. It would simplify the late 20s dating world enormously. You’d be out somewhere, hear a loud TICK and then a split second later an ear shattering TOCK as you are driven to the ground by a woman with a professional hair-do and a small stylish bag under one arm. She’s not hunting for Mr. Right. Oh no, she’s stalking Mr. Right-fucking-now. TICK. TOCK.
She must have gotten up one morning and poured some funky smelling milk all over her Wheaties. This is the first seal of the apocalypse, the time of biological reckoning is nigh! Apparently there is a shelf life on eggs, you are born with them, and then at some point they all fail simultaneously. This happens much later for men. Testicular faculty goes on and on, well into a mans 50s. Spermatozoa aren’t exactly a fine, single-malted, 18 year old scotch at that age. But, there isn’t some mythical end buzzer on male fertility.
For guys there isn’t anything so convenient as a biological clock to blame. There is just the not-so-subtle realization that the chick with the hot ass you just burned the clothes off of with your eyes as she walked across the room was born in the same year that you graduated high school.
“Remember the band that sang that song we just heard?”
“Oh yeah, they were in my history text book, in the section on the 80s.”, she giggled.
This is when you grab your walker and go home to soak your feet before your 8 PM bedtime. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, proceed directly to feeling like a Benny Hill skit in super slow motion.
Dating when you are 19 is like falling off of a log. Nobody has baggage yet, and if they do it just leads to “super hot, she’s got daddy issues sex”. Once you find yourself staring down the big three-oh the game changes. It’s not longer flirting, followed by polite sexual tension ending in fogging up the windows for an hour when you drop her off at her place. Not anymore, now it’s like a job interview for the position of Subservient Penis Caddy™.
I can see the ad now:
NOW HIRING EEO
Must be able to lift 100 lbs of baggage.
Seeking attractive candidates, submit references
and 401k statements. No phone calls!
At 30 everybody is a burnt out jaded husk of declining expectations and a sense of urgency in the matter nearing escape velocity. Nothing is fueled by the hormones that enable you to overlook aberrant personality flaws long enough to establish a valid reason to have a relationship in the first place.
Tags dating, jaded, TICKTOCK | no comments
Posted by Miah
Sat, 24 Nov 2007 07:19:00 GMT
Written on October 7, 2007
I’ve grown so accustomed to my own wild mood swings that I don’t even notice them anymore. Once day I’ll be ready to jump off of the overpass because I see a future stringing along in front of me full of things that don’t appeal to me. Not even 24 hours after that I’ll be swinging off of light posts whistling tunes accompanied by little blue cartoon birds for no better reason than, hey, it’s Thursday.
How about some middle ground self? This probably won’t happen, I know I thrive on chaos and drown in boredom of the mundane. Do I create my own problems, you betcha! What I probably need to do is take up a life endangering hobby like bear wrestling or deep sea pottery turning to keep the adrenaline pumping through my brain-scaldingly predictable job.
Or I could just work on chilling out a bit. Get comfortable with predictability. This is tougher than it sounds; I’ve tried and as sure as Sunday once a week it creeps back to sowing discord in my life and I end up doing something “romantic”.
Nothing like an abstract concept to cause pain. There is a whole set of them: Love, Romance, Passion, etc. We all want them in ourselves and the people that we want to want us as bad as we want them to want us. As I’m wont to do, I’m going to wield a generalization. Everybody wants these things but nobody can give you a good definition for any of them.
The proof is in the pudding, while referring more to the liquor in the dessert we’ll see if we can find anything about this by digging in and giving it the old college try. Which sounds odd to me, because the only thing most people “try” in college any more are keg stands. On with the show!
LOVE: You can love a sports team, and you can love a person. Aren’t sports teams comprised of a group of people? Do you love them individually or only if they hang out with this specific group of people? It seems that “love” is contextually aware and there is a lot more going on in that word that we even know. I love pumpkin pie, but I don’t think I’d ever move to New York for it.
Ok, we didn’t really get anywhere talking about love, perhaps I’m not the expert my emotional baggage makes me feel I am. Let’s keep moving, I can keep up, it has wheels on it.
ROMANCE: Flowers, chocolates, ball game jumbo-tron wedding proposals, candle light, wine, and foot rubs. All of those are standard issue romance. What do they all have in common? Save for the foot rub, they all involve spending money on luxuries. Chicken flavored Ramen noodles has, probably not ever, been considered horribly romantic. This may be some sort of evolutionary barnacle where we built ornate nests out of twigs and leaves to impress a potential mate. Think about it for a second; Darwin’s Jumbo-Tron.
Romance seems to have been marginally more conclusive for us, lets carry on and see how bad we can mangle passion.
PASSION: Perhaps I’m cynical (no shit) but passion seems to be something you want to be on the friendly end of. Passion drives people to take action for nothing more than a feeling, often of their own detriment. You wouldn’t do something “romantic” for someone unless you were “passionate” about them, or perhaps even in “love”. When passion goes bad, it leads to equally impulsive actions, often to the detriment of everybody involved.
Overheard at the bar that night…
“I would give both my nuts to be Tom Robbins in soprano.”
Tags atthebar, writing | 1 comment
Posted by Miah
Wed, 21 Nov 2007 17:22:00 GMT
I’m not quite the philatelist that I should be, but I play one on TV. But I do show an interest in the currency that my fine nation stamps out for me to squander on cheese fries and soda pop. Every state gets to design their own quarter to reflect their states history. They all choose euphemistic images to depict and, perhaps a saying to grace the silver plated disc. It’s a formula that has worked almost 50 times.
Today I found a Wyoming quarter in my pocket, isn’t she lovely. They decided to reflect the states qualities in the image they chose. There really is NOTHING in Wyoming other than closeted homosexuals who abuse large farm animals, wheehaw, Brokeback Currency. Thankfully they didn’t do a “me too!” quarter with mountains on it. If your state has mountains in it, they are probably on your quarter.
And what about their tag line, “The Equality State”, I don’t know about that. I don’t think there has ever been a civil rights challenge in the state, nor an economic one. The only challenge to Wyoming is not coming to an early death from boredom while driving across it.
Anyway, this quarter sucks.
Tags brokebackmountain, money | 1 comment
Posted by Miah
Sun, 18 Nov 2007 05:56:00 GMT
Ok, I have some thoughts in my head…
They will probably annoy you. In fact, I’m sure of it. I’ve had a few “adventures” recently in life and, well, I have something to say about them. Will I shove them in your face and pine for you to read it, no. Would I like for people to read it, sure, that’s why I wrote it down. While you may think it’s funny, it came from a very dark place (my cats imagination?) and only sounds funny on the surface.
Stuff I’m going to talk about soon…
I didn’t drag the notebook with me to the coffee shop full of the young, dumb, and wobbly or I would post some of it right this moment. They probably won’t wobble over here and be interesting, which is probably for the best: they are one of my targets^H^H^H^H^H^H topics. I’m supposedly divorced, or will be when the papers hit the right clerks desk. So if you hadn’t guessed, I’m pretty bitter about the whole ordeal.
Holidays drive me crazy, major events that draw thousands do the same. Coming soon will be a few cracks about Burning Man that I wrote on the back of a coaster. All that before I learned that you don’t start having fun until someone says, “How well can you climb a fence?” It doesn’t get any better than that I’m afraid.
I’m going to wait until NaNoWriMo is over to actually start doing my own, I missed the deadline to get started with them but I figure there is no stopping me from duplicating the effort on my own time. I’ll post that here too.
Tags blagblagblag, firstpost, meta | no comments
