i want...candy?

i just pulled a semi-eaten bag of sour patch kids of out my purse, left over from a recent trip to the movies to see 'live free, die harder' with jimmy. for reasons that are entirely without concern, the majority of the spk's remaining were orange and yellow -- but when i opened up the bag, safely fastened with a rubber band, i wafted toward me a familiar scent. that scent was not sour patch kids, as one might imagine. it was fruit loops. i do not know why, or how, fruit loops infiltrated my sour patch kids -- who, it can be said, form a mean and ragged army when necessary -- but had better believe i shall get to the bottom of it.

also: i'm noticing that i have a lot of random candy on my desk. in general, i don't eat a lot of candy. but as i look around i see:

• 90% depleted bag of dark chocolate m&ms. we keep those around for bi-annual hell weeks.
• sweet-tarts suckers (is it one 't' or two? the logo splits it down the middle...)
• lemon heads

i also have a grapefruit. apparently just to balance things out.

my week: the numbers version

number of ex-boyfriends from whom i've heard: 1
number of pseudo-ex-boyfriends i've heard from/seen at random: 2
number of non-dates: 2
number of movies i've seen in the theater: 2
number of 'the o.c.' reruns watched on july fourth: 3
number of cups of coffee consumed: 9
number of cups of tea consumed: 15
number of pairs of shoes purchased: 0

speaking of movies: go see 'transformers'. and the new 'die hard'. and 'knocked up'.
favorite line from all movies seen this season thus far: "please take the chairs away. i don't like them. the big one is staring at me and that short one is being very droll." hee! running a close second: "i am optimus prime."

and now the transcript from an email conversation between nate and i, based on his recommendation that i read this and this. warning: weirdness abounds.

johanna: the term 'virtual sex' is so offputting. but 'erotic geppetto' is seriously fantastic.
nate: it's way way way beyond fantastic.
j: that's totally the title of my next album.
n: Nice. Or maybe that should be the name of your bakery.
j: people will have far, far different expectations than what i'd be willing to deliver.
n: mostly grotesquely shaped baked goods?
j: dirty pastries.
n: exactly.
j: "erotic geppetto, specializing in naughty noshing for any event"
n: I hate hate hate (clicks heels three times) the word noshing.
I also think it might as well be spelled gnoshing and accompanied with nails on a chalkboard and a dead baby (every time it is spoken or typed).
j: weirdo. "erotic geppetto, specializing in kinky cuisine for any event."
n: "erotic geppetto...dirty inevitibility"
j: "erotic geppetto...x-rated edibles"
n: "erotic geppetto...pastry delights for more than growing noses."
j: dirty. "erotic geppetto...more than just a kick in the pants."
n: I don't get it.
j: "erotic geppetto...our dough isn't the only thing rising."
n: erotic geppetto...pedophiles are creepy...eat a danish
j: erotic geppetto...pastry. puppetry. perverts.
n: there's a winner.

diamonds are forevahhhh.

this past weekend, i went to the wedding of a very dear friend of mine from high school. i'll have pictures to post soon, including one of brad sporting a very sharp, glittered hat. heh. he's pretty.

have you seen ads for this show? i caught a preview for it the other night. my mom was convinced that mark consuelos was the one being set up -- and seriously, he and mark phillippoussis do resemble one another. it's kind of creepy, actually. also creepy: where are the thirty year old women? phillippoussis is thirty-one. do the producers not think he should be dating someone his own age? do they think that that women in their 20s and 40s make for better drama/entertainment? reality tv makes my brain hurt. and really, who gets married to someone they met on television? trista and ryan don't count.

excitement: my dear, dear lovely friend kendall got engaged last friday to her dear, dear lovely boyfriend ciro. it would have come as quite the shock, had they not been dating for EIGHT YEARS. in all seriousness: i couldn't be happier for my friends. i'm ecstatic, and cried joyful tears when she told me. and not just because i get to buy a new dress. and shoes. i met kendall my freshman (her sophomore) year of college in the class 'theater 101', otherwise known as 'don't try to meet straight men here.' we both knew the entire book and score to the movie 'evita' -- and sang aloud during the class screening -- and our friendship was solidified from there on out. we did one musical together (the cast party for which we recall with fond memories of sitting on someone's kitchen counter, drinking rolling rock), were cinema majors together (she being the far superior student in that realm) and lived together for a year, during which we held many a dinner party, all-night study session, and one memorable thanksgiving feast. many episodes of 'friends' were watched together, accompanied by many cartons of chinese food. when she graduated, and subsequently moved out of our house, i was both excited (for her) and traumatized (for me.) we don't see each other as frequently as we would like, but when we do get that opportunity to reconnect it's as if no time has passed. congratulations, kace. love love.

success

y'all? the rhubarb coffee cake?
i've never been more impressed with a recipe, and my adherence to a recipe, in all my life.

i believe i made the k.g. proud.

birthdays, poo and the healing powers of rhubarb.

today is the wee bakery's 6 month birthday! happy birthday, wee bakery. i will bake you some wee cupcakes. were you an actual bakery, i could go to you and buy said cupcakes. but you are not. you are a silly, nonsensical internety entity. readership: 4
but i love you for giving me someplace other than my binding-less, drama filled notebook to focus my craziness.

in non-birthday related news (hi. buy me a dictionary. 'news' came out 'noos' on the first go around.): for reasons we have yet to ascertain, my niece has started to refer to herself as either a "doody factory" or a "poop factory" upon the production of a dirty diaper. hilarious.

in non-birthday and non-doody related news [noos]: i got nothing. it's friday, and i'm going to see ocean's 13 this evening. saw ocean's 11 on a first date with a former boyfriend, ocean's 12 pretty much crapped the bed...the fate of the ocean's legacy in my brain forever hinges on this third installment.

yesterday i gleefully sent my mother this recipe. today, she emailed back saying that a teacher at her school brought in some rhubarb so, "your assignment, should you choose to accept it..."
i believe the spirit of kitty grandma (my maternal grandmother) shall be dancing a jig over her granddaughter's new food project. happier, hopefully, than the time mom and i were making easter cookies and the porcelain cardinal fell off the shelf, a clear sign that we were being watched and should not omit the anise flavoring, no matter how much i complained. my grandmother was a brilliant cook and baker and certain things about her and her house will forever (hopefully) be inscribed into my brain: her yellow rice with mushrooms, the possum that temporarily moved into her porch, helping her pick strawberries in the back yard, getting stung by a hornet that nested in the front steps, seeing her drop a piece of chicken onto the floor while turning it over to see if it was done and unleashing a "sonofabitch!" -- the likes of which i've never heard again. her cat. her basement, lined with jars upon jars of home-canned fruits and vegetables. it was a veritable laboratory of food brilliant. going to the premiere of this movie -- in the town where she lived -- and the accompanying terror of sleeping in her house, or any house with windows, for at least a year. i've missed her everyday for eighteen years.

i feel old and sad. and anxiously awaiting that rhubarb.

they always go for the funny hats.

the man who jumped the popemobile today was described, on the morning news, as being "between twenty and thirty years of age with significant mental problems."

i believe that quote perfectly sums up my entire dating pool from the past 7 years.

(i shall refrain from making the obvious, "but at least the popemobile was jumped!" joke. but i may start wearing funny hats.)

pvd

just returned from vacation this week, feeling as though i'd never left. i hate that. the entire point of vacation is to escape, to rid yourself of the daily grind and mental anguish. i came back to my office only to find it in (typical) chaos and insanity. INSANITY. sad. ness. i want to cry on a continued basis for the degradation of our collective mental state.

that being said, i've found the perfect photo from vacation to sum up my return to work: