I Love You, But I Don't Knead You

Well, it can't be helped, you need to go out right now and buy Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes a Day. I know the title is lame and QVC-sounding. In fact I'm wearing Suzanne Somers' gold collection and a Snuggie while I write this. But it's a real book that you can get at a regular book store that will CHANGE YOUR LIFE! Okay, it may not change your life, if you have a wooden leg it won't give you back full mobility or anything, but it will make your mouth so happy you won't even remember that your IRA is worth 50% less than it was in August. Ace just made the basic recipe for us and I am not exaggerating when I say that it was perfect. Perfect crusty outside, perfect chewy texture inside, and required no kneading. That's right, no kneading. Did I just blow your mind?

I consider myself lucky to have grown up in a home with gourmet sensibilities. When I was 9 someone offered me an Eggo Waffle at a sleepover party and I was disgusted. I had never seen a small, hard, bland-tasting waffle before. In my world all waffles were whipped up by your mom with fluffy egg whites and cooked before your eyes on a large antique waffle iron. Similarly, I have very high expectations for bread. My bread scale rating looks something like this: way up at the fancy, ideal end, is my uncle's sourdough bread which is baked in a hand-made outdoor brick oven near a stream where otters frolic in Vermont. At the crappiest-bread-I've-ever-experienced-in-my-life end of the scale is Wonderbread, the bread that even looks like toilet paper. It is almost certainly better for your butt than your mouth. So where did our crusty loaf from Artisan Bread in 5 Minutes land on Frannie's Bread Scale? Solidly on the magical Vermont frolicking otter end of the scale. If you have any respect for your taste buds you will run out immediately and buy this book.

AngerLite Productions

Looky! New project!
http://angerliteblog.blogspot.com/
I play the cripplingly vapid puppet, of course.

The Invitations

I began to realize, after we were given a list of people we ought to invite, that this wedding is going to become about other people very quickly. There are many traditions couples need to conform to when planning a wedding, mostly because of the variety of people who will be in attendance. I, for instance, will have guests ranging from two lovely grandmothers to a bunch of improvisational comics. Unfortunately, I tend to the comic also, so almost nothing in Emily Post's Etiquette appeals to me. For instance, Emily suggests:

Francis Marzipan Parker
and
Robert Bob Poppington
invite you to share with them
the joy of their marriage
Saturday, the nineteenth of March
nineteen hundred and ninety-eight
at half after five o'clock
First Baptist Church
Shreveport, Louisiana

First of all. Who the hell gets married in "Louisiana"? Where is that anyway? I think someone made it up. Secondly, how dry! how sere! how droughty! I want something more interesting. Perhaps more honest:

Francis Marzipan Parker
and
Robert Bob Poppington

After living in sin for over a year, have finally decided
to do the honorable thing and marry one another. (She’s
not pregnant. Really. They just want to get married.) Please
dress in your most outrageous gown/suit and get yer ass to
Smalltown, NH where we’ll have our very own version of a
shotgun wedding. Complete with hillbillies (if we can convince
the best men to black out their teefs for us). The bride will wear
white despite being about as pure as a Welsh pirate. The groom
will likely find some way to show how much he loves Georgia
Tech. And the bridesmaids will definitely drink too much.

We request the honor of your presence at this
precious moment in our lives.
Saturday, the nineteenth of March
nineteen hundred and ninety-eight
at half after five o'clock

The Congratulations Conversation

Me: Dude, I’m going to be a WIFE. I can’t be funny anymore.

Steve: Are you fucking kidding me? Jane Curtin was already a wife before she got on SNL. Madeleine Kahn was a wife!

Me: Oh okay.

Steve: Lily Tomlin was never a wife, but a very funny lesbian!

Me: So I can still think fart jokes are hilarious?

Steve: Only if they’re your own farts. I can crack Michelle up with a quick improve bit on my own flatulence.

Me: See? Always funny.

Steve: Dog farts are the ne plus ultra hilarity however I wish my own farts confused me as much.

Me: Hahaaaaaaaaa

Steve: You know what I’m talking about, though, right? Ever seen a dog fart? It’s like they look at their asses and say, “what the hell?” and then they look worried because they can’t run away from the stink.

Me: Or they check their bum to see where the sound came from.

Steve: Oh that’s the best! (BTW, this is the best “holy shit you’re engaged” conversation I’ve ever had)

I'm Engaged!

Last night Bob took me out to a fancy restaurant. He'd researched this place, gotten my approval on the menu (I am a sucker for words like "reduction", "mascarpone", and "lobster"), and made reservations so that we'd have a really wonderful night. So, at 7:45pm, dressed up in our finest, most glamorous-est outfits - the outfits for very special occasions - we walked several short blocks to the best Italian restaurant in the North End. We ordered a bottle of good wine, picked out rich dishes with long descriptions, and just before they arrived, Bob got down on his knee, handed me a tiny velvet box with my great grandmother's engagement ring in it and said, "I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?" I don't remember saying or doing anything except taking the ring and hanging onto him with all my might. It took me a minute to remember to answer his question, but I finally said, "Yes. I love you."

We picked up a box of Italian Wedding Cookies at the 24hour deli on the way home. I called my mother pronto. "Lies! Deceit! Trickery!" I hollered, since she'd done quite a bit of all of these to get the ring in Bob's hand without my knowing. She was, of course, thrilled to hear this. But I think the happiest person of all, besides me and the future Mr. Frannie, is Bob's mom. She has already located a possible wedding dress for me and sent congratulations flowers and woke the town with the news. She's been waiting for this for years. I think having an enthusiastic mother-in-law is all any future Mrs. could ask for.

I'm happy. I'm really really happy. And I'm going to run right out and buy Modern Bride just because I can.

Syllabus Project

I’ve decided to be proactive about my crappy work situation (i.e. I have to do soul crushingly boring stuff every day, all day) and start working towards a fun and interesting career. It occurred to me that, until I can actually get enrolled in a university or program I’m interested in, I might just set up a summer semester course all by myself, for me. I’ll begin with a syllabus for a topic I find interesting.

So today I’d like to encourage you all to WRITE YOUR OWN SYLLABUS.

Project: Write a syllabus for a course you’d love to take. Don’t be ashamed if you’d like to create your own course on “Hot Chicks” with supplemental reading on “Boobs”. I’m sure you’re not alone. I bet many people would pay to be in your class. Why haven’t they offered this class at BCAE? Those people need to start thinking inside the box.

Here are the topics covered in a real live syllabus:
- Course overview
- Learning objectives
- General approach
- Textbooks and other course materials
- Course requirements & how students will be evaluated
- Policies
- Major assignments and exams, with dates
- Schedule of activities for the quarter
- Estimate of student work load
- Instructor office hours and contact information
- Invitation to students with special needs to contact you
- A Statement about Academic Integrity
- Helpful supplementary materials

Oh Hai-Ku!

Because I'm a super genius, I just came up with the newest thing in hipster poetry: Oh Hai-ku, a glorious train wreck between Lolcatz and the ancient art of haiku. I doez one for you:

I gonna eat u
butter fly floatin outside
then I haz naps time

Please to post your own Oh Hai-ku?