1. "Turn the other cheek," and
2. "shit the bed"
As many people are already aware, "turn the other cheek" was a fabulous concept Jesus delivered in his sermon on the mount, in rejection of the "eye for an eye" approach to life. Now, I am not certain if Jesus meant that when smacked in the face a person should just sort of turn away and ignore their attacker, or if the victim is supposed to offer the other cheek for a smack as well. What happens next? Do you offer up each of your arms for abuse? Legs? When you run out of body areas to be attacked, do you start again with the original cheek, or do you hand them your puppy for a go?
That being said, a smarter person than I once observed that an eye for an eye leaves everyone blind, and nobody wants that (duh). But maybe there is a middle ground somewhere. With all that is going on in the world today (see earlier post re: Freedom Chicken), I hope someone figures out where that middle ground is. I'd like to but I am too busy blogging.
Now, "shit the bed" is an interesting phrase. My extensive research on google seems to indicate that the expression comes from the unfortunate and final humiliation suffered by many upon death, when the bowels are evacuated spontaneously. Since a lot of people probably die in bed, that explains why the saying is "shit the bed," instead of "shit the eames," or even "shit the toilet" (although many people, including Elvis, do pass away in this manner, and that seems even more humiliating than shitting the bed).
The urban dictionary tells us that "shit the bed" basically means the same thing as FUBAR (fucked up beyond all repair), or to really screw something up. Here, let's use the phrase in a couple of sentences:
"I really shit the bed when I missed that deadline." OR
"My car shit the bed on the way to work today - I think it's the fan belt." OR
"My dog shit the bed." No wait, this actually happened. Last night. Last night Tom was entertaining clients which gave me the opportunity to invite a good friend over to dine with me and Jake. Christy is a wonderful gal and an all-around nice person. Christy also has two dogs, Babs (blonde) and Ernie (black). Babs and Ernie are sisters and I love them. I really do.
But the problem is, sometimes these doggies are not well-behaved when they come to visit. Case in point: last night they came bounding through the door, filled with enthusiasm and general puppyosity. Babs immediately released her bladder onto the dining room rug (which reminds me, I really should get that cleaned up). Christy was mortified and I laughed it off. "Oh ho ho ho, don't worry about it, she's a good girl! We don't care! Have a glass of wine! La la la..."
Approximately 30 minutes passed. The dogs played outside quite a bit so it's not as if they didn't have the opportunity to use the proper potty. Suddenly Christy noticed Babs was missing. She went upstairs to look for her and came back down with a deeply disturbed look on her face. I could tell something had gone wrong, horribly wrong. I was just about to say "well at least she didn't shit the bed!" when Christy said "she shit the bed."
Seriously, this beautiful precocious labrador climbed on top of my bed and shit the bed. All I could do was laugh, because one thing that drives me crazy is when people use an expression and improperly insert the word "literally," as in "I was literally so broke I couldn't pay attention!" Really? You literally couldn't pay attention? Maybe you need some adderall (but you probably can't afford it, since you're so broke). And now I could say that Babs LITERALLY shit the bed! Fun times.
You will note from the photo above that the rug is missing and there is just an ugly grey pad on the floor. Well, let me tell you why! That rug, along with the other area rug in our kitchen, is "in the shop" being cleaned. I had Chem Dry come to the house last week to clean these rugs, because we had recently cared for two doggies while our friends Brooks and Brenna were galavanting around Florida for the holidays (lucky bitches). Bo, the little guy, was almost perfectly well-behaved. Buddy,the enormous dog, not so much.
On Christmas morning, Tom and I went to my ex-husband's house for breakfast with him, his fiance, and Jake. Yes, we are a very unusual family. I wouldn't have it any other way. Anyhoo, when we got home Buddy had gotten into our very very full garbage under the sink, and pulled it out. What he didn't eat, he deposited throughout the house. I am still finding chewed-up ribs in various nooks and crannies. The rug right in front of the sink got the worst of it, and at least three days' worth of coffee grounds were smooshed into it. As Tom and I were just about done cleaning up the mess, I looked at the other rug in the good room (I call it a good room, as opposed to a great room, because it's not all that big and the idea of calling a room in your house a great room just seems sort of braggy). Right in the middle of my favorite persian rug was the biggest dog poop I have ever seen. Buddy really shit the rug.
So, Chem Dry comes out and after taking a five seond look at these rugs, they call Tom downstairs. I heard them speaking in hushed, concerned voices. The tone sounded ominous. I was frightened. Trudging back upstairs, Tom came in the bedroom and sat on the bed. I do believe I was blogging at the time, so I looked up from my computer to see his worried face.
"I'm afraid it's worse than we thought," he said quietly. "They are going to have to take them into the shop and see what they can do there. They just don't have all the tools they need to do it here. I'm sorry."
"Will they be ok? Will they survive?" I asked, a tear forming in my right eye.
"I don't know. Maybe. Let's just hope for the best." The rugs are coming home today. Needless to say, Buddy will not be left alone in the house anymore. I'm starting to wonder what it is about this place that makes dogs act so naughty. Maybe it's a bad dog ghost or something. Maybe that Marley dog took up residence here after being such a terror to its owners. Of course, they're rich now because of that bad behavior, so I'm sure all is forgiven.
Finally, because this is somewhat of a cooking blog, I am including my steak method. It isn't much of a recipe really - it's very easy and I guarantee once you try this method you won't go back to grilling or broiling or whatever the hell it is you do. PLEASE NOTE: the most important ingredient in this steak is the steak, meaning that you must purchase Kobe beef from Phil's meat market in uptown. Because I am in cost-cutting mode and because I am trying to slim down, I almost never eat this steak anymore. But last night was an exception, because things have been a little weird lately and I needed me some Kobe. Bad.
THE BEST STEAK EVER
Take your meat (ribeye, NY, whatever) and apply kosher salt and fresh cracked pepper. Get a good frying pan out of your cabinet. Put it on the stove. Turn the heat on high. When the pan is very hot, put the steak in the pan. Cook for four minutes. Flip. Cook for four minutes. Take out of the pan and let rest for five minutes. Eat.
Oops, forgot to mention that if you want to really make it unhealthy (and I know you do), be sure to buy the Oba Steak Butter at Phil's (please tell them I sent you - these are truly lovely people). Apply some of the steak butter right after you take the meat off the heat.
And there you have it. Best. Steak. Ever.
Gotta go now, as it's time to put in 90 minutes of cardio and do a little weight lifting. See, I just remembered this blog was supposed to be all about getting healthy and lean. Somewhere along the way I went off on a tangent. Come to think of it, I prefer the current direction. Tomorrow we will talk butterscotch/chocolate chip cookies, which are Tommy's favorite.
Onward and upward. Try not to shit the bed today, and if someone is mean to you, turn the other cheek.
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