my periscopes are no longer broken.

except this tamflu biznass is wonkfied.

i went out yesterday for a bit with sauce and i got dizzy at one place, trudged along at another, wanted to sit at another and then i gave up and waved a flag for us to return home.

later, after my eyes started to buzz-buzz, i had to get some cheese from poopshop and driving was like a magic show.

the cars were lasers of light–even after they passed, the light remained.

i somehow made it a few minutes away and got into the store and i swear everyone was freakin’ staring at me.

really.

i grabbed my cheese [and blueberry muffins] and skiddaddledded.

i checked out hunger for $3 and then got back into my car, didn’t look when i was backing out and then made macaroni and cheese from scratch.

and then i didn’t watch tv for a few hours but instead, made sauce ask me trivia while i got into my sleeping bag on the floor and stuffed it with airheads.

i’ll put up a photo on the twitterer.

today he’s driving me to the grocer.

then back home to watch tv and eat yogurt.

how do i feel?

crazy.

this tamiflu specifically says “not for people with mood or mental problems”.

ha.

i thought i was walking on a conveyor belt yesterday–then i got barfy–then i got weird.

today the cough is still here and my chest still feels stupid.

my periscopes are still broken but the headache is MIA, so you win some you lose some.

i’ve been doing work since i woke up and i’ve been wearing sunglasses at my desk here because my freakin head is going womp womp womp womp.

sunglasses and pilots hat.

must take a minute..

i thought this morning i was starting to almost feel like a regular person, and that’s a big almost.

last night sauce picked up tamiflu from the pharmacy and i took that last night and today  i’m feeling reaaaally barfy–which is one of the side effects, but i mean, like really barfy.

i took it this morning with oatmeal because you arent supposed to take it on an empty stomach but my goodness, my stomach is like a damn rollercoaster.

i just had my first real eats [sandwich] and i only got to enjoy it for a few minutes because it all went bye bye.

the best thing to do is to just lay the hell down and not move a damn muscle because my body is really pissed off.

i’m in my bedroom, shades drawn, toilet-paper-as-tissues all over the bed, robotussin, pepto, gingerale, ricola, and some throat spray is on my night stand.

my eyes keep tearing and my bird cage is rattling.

rattler.

i am 6th grade sick.

even the sas is feeling empathy towards me.

sauce just came here and gave me magic soup.

also some gingerale that i thought was my stomach making noise but it was the gingerale bubble; freaked out.

eh.

i’m going to close my periscopes for a bit and try and sleep this junk away.

junk, garbage, bales of hay.

I feel like rotten crumb cake that’s been soaking in yesterday’s milk.

[striking visual]

This is some serious bullcrap.

BULL CRAP.

There’s a small woodpecker in my upper chest and it’s banging its beak over and over again and it’s really rude.

[Dew, if you’re reading this: “when I roll my eyes up towards the sky, it hurts and that’s how I know I’m sick” haha].

I’ve got this way of telling when I’ve got the sicks…I look towards the ceiling while keeping my head straight, and if my eyes feel sore, I know I’m sick.

How I came to realize this, I do not know, but it’s a failsafe method and I continue to do it, despite looking like some sort of possessed nutcase.

Although I feel wonkified, I feel slightly functional: slightly.

I made the lasagna last night [in a sloppy stupor] and it came out really great.

It was super easy and I’ll definitely make it again [but if you don’t have a food processor, you’re a bit SOL because you’ve gotta do a lot of basil/ricotta/parm/mozz/egg pulsing].

I adapted a recipe from Epicurious [I used Angus ground beef and mozzarella perlini and Linoni ricotta—also, most of the measurements I did were semi-unmeasured—pinch, splash, dash]:

Sauce:

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 pound spicy Italian sausages, casings removed
• 1 cup chopped onion
• 3 large garlic cloves, chopped
• 2 teaspoons dried oregano
• 1/4 teaspoon dried crushed red pepper
• 1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes with added puree
• 1 14 1/2-ounce can diced tomatoes with green pepper and onion (do not drain)

Filling:

• 1 1/2 cups (packed) fresh basil leaves
• 1 15-ounce container plus 1 cup part-skim ricotta cheese
• 1 1/2 cups (packed) grated mozzarella cheese (about 6 ounces)
• 3/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese (about 2 ounces)
• 1 large egg
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

Assembly:

• 12 no-boil lasagna noodles from one 8-ounce package
• 3 cups (packed) grated mozzarella cheese (about 12 ounces)
• 1 cup grated Parmesan cheese (about 3 ounces)
• Nonstick olive oil spray

Preparation

Sauce:
Heat oil in heavy large pot over medium-high heat. Add sausages, onion, garlic, oregano and crushed red pepper and sauté until sausage is cooked through, mashing sausage into small pieces with back of fork, about 10 minutes. Add crushed tomatoes and diced tomatoes with juices. Bring sauce to boil. Reduce heat to medium and simmer 5 minutes to blend flavors. Season with salt and pepper. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Chill until cold, then cover and keep chilled.)

Filling:
Using on/off turns, chop fresh basil leaves finely in processor. Add ricotta, mozzarella, Parmesan, egg, 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Using on/off turns, process filling until just blended and texture is still chunky.

Assembly:
Preheat oven to 375°F. Spread 1 1/4 cups sauce in 13×9x2-inch glass baking dish. Arrange 3 noodles on sauce. Drop 1 1/2 cups filling over noodles, then spread evenly to cover. Sprinkle with 3/4 cup mozzarella cheese and 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese. Repeat layering of sauce, noodles, filling and cheeses 2 more times. Top with remaining 3 noodles. Spoon remaining sauce atop noodles. Sprinkle with remaining cheeses. Spray large piece of foil with nonstick olive oil spray. Cover lasagna with foil, sprayed side down.

Bake lasagna 40 minutes. Carefully uncover. Increase oven temperature to 400°F. Bake until noodles are tender, sauce bubbles thickly and edges of lasagna are golden and puffed, about 20 minutes. Transfer to work surface; let stand 15 minutes before serving.

Anyway, after that, I had a lovely interaction with Captain Naughty Pants…well, it wasn’t really an interaction because I abruptly hung up the telephone and said “we can talk about this tomorrow” because my head was doing rollercoaster movements.

I should try to talk to her today but I’d really rather not.

The latest crisis isn’t even a crisis but trying to talk the situation down is useless because there’s no perspective: everything is dire straits, always.

Whatever…a few months ago, this nonsense would have had me in tears but after spending some time talking with DH, she’s really helped me realize that none of those problems are my problems…I haven’t done anything wrong and I shouldn’t be held hostage like this for the rest of my life [psycho-babble works].

Moving on: despite boozing down the Nyquil last night, I had more wacky dreams—although one was a nice one: a baby was involved, Sauce found a baby near a swimming pool and we kept it hahhhaha.

CRAASAZZZZZYZYZYZYYZYZYZYYZYZYYZZZZYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I’m getting sick again—dear cheetos god, please don’t do this to me again.

Last night I slept for a good 10 hours because Saturday night, I slept for like 4 but it wasn’t really sleep, it was booze-induced, so really I didn’t get any sleep.

Saturday in Boston was silly.

Happy to see Stinkin, Jilly and Mego plus their respective boyfriends…the night ended with me eating a Big Mac and taking a trip to a dumpster; success.

Anyways, back to sleeps and sicks: I’ve been having horrible dreams lately, waking up in a sweat and panic over some really whacko stuff.

I dreamt on Friday night that one of my ex’s had been killed, and although I prefer to avoid him like the pig flu, I certainly don’t wish him dead—in jest perhaps, but not for reals, ek.

Then last night I had some wacky dream about my Sas and it was just really terrible…I can’t get any damn sleep, ever, because I just have non-stop stupid dreams.

It wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t so bloody vivid but it’s insane the stuff that I can recall, even after I wake up: smells, voices, touch, sounds, names, distinct facial features; whack.

So this morning, at who knows what time, I started to cough and now the cough is full-blown chest-ache cough and I’m pixted off.

I picked up my pharmaceuticals and I’m hoping shocking my body with vitamins and such will keep the nasties away.

Last night I made burritos on the Cuisinart griddler and then I also made some carrot and yam soup from Cooking Light [not eaten at the same time].

The burrito was bursting with some lime and cilantro basmati rice plus cumin and garlic black beans…and homemade pico de gallo plus red chile tortillas.

I got ground pork at WF because I get tired of eating beef but tonight I’m probably going to use some beef for my lasagna, eh—with Lioni ricotta=10x better than that shit you get prepackaged.

Ricotta is sort of nasty [okay, it’s really nasty but I like ricotta salata a lot but they are not the same, ha] but this Lioni brand is creamy and not gritty…it’s also whole milk so it’s packed to the max with a trillion calories and tons of fat [you can’t win all the battles]. www.lionimozzarella.com/fresh_ricotta.html

I wish I didn’t have to think in ‘fattening’ vs. ‘non-fattening’ terms but I recently came to the realization that I’ll never not think about how many calories/fat/carbs something has—granted, I’ll eat almost whatever I want now, and I usually end up regretting it [gah, eating, I know] but I do it anyway because let’s face it folks, 71 inches and 102lbs was all shades of wrong [or maybe it's right? I can never tell anymore].

We can now scramble those digits to create a new [side-eye] number.

mhmmm…today is the day and i have everything figured out.

first: find some gingerbread cookies.

second: get some candy canes

third: find some friends to be my elf helpers

fourth: take a sleigh to boston

fifth: spread cheer to all.

i think i can accomplish all of that.

follow my twitter for photos from tonight’s festivities.

Come back tomorrow frengers.

Love and rusty razors,

Ninamazing

O Tannenbaum! O Tannenbaum!

So I tried on my Halloween costume last night and I’m semi-unhappy with the results—mostly because I feel slutastical in it and that’s not what I was really going for—but it is what it is.

The dress I’m wearing falls just below my bootay and I have these white tights to wear but I think I may also have to snag some bootay shorts because if I bend over everyone will see LONDON FRANCE AND NINAMAZING’S UNDERPANTS.

I don’t like short stuff or things that show Nanaboobies [ha, Boobies/Boobs, is my college “nickname”, gah].

I feel really weird showing cleavage because then everyone just looks at it and it makes me really awkward—I don’t like short skirts/dresses either because everyone just looks at my legs [I guess people have unicorn fetishes].

I’m just bothered by the shortness of the skirt…if it were a few inches longer, I’d probably be much happier.

When I tried everything on last night, I asked Sauce his thoughts and he rationalized it has “it is Halloween and even though you’re not used to wearing shit like this, think about how everyone else will look—probably similar in the level of sluttiness”.

Small words to appease my Frankenstein mind.

I’m wearing a cape and the dress is sort of high up so the only slutty part is the leg part but it’s a huge part because my legs are freakishly long.

Okay, I need to stop fretting and just wear the damn outfit.

AND WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE FOR CHRISTMAS TIMMY?

Rain, rain, rain, rain.

I didn’t know it was going to rain today.

Why is it raining?

It should be sunning.

Eh.

I didn’t get any Vitamin D this summer, maybe a week’s worth, when usually I’m baking my body under the heat lamps for a good month straight.

Perhaps it’s good because I’m really bad with doing the SPF biznass and I can tell that my face is going to hate me soon and then I’ll fill it, pump it, and stuff it with whatever sort of botox-of-the-week fix they come up with.

Though I’m relying on genetics, so we’ll see.

Last night I made some Indian foods: curry steak [yeah, steak! I made Indian food with cows! Moo!], some tofu and onions, cous cous with lemon and parsely, and naan.

All in all a non-barf-inducing meal, so that is definitely a success.

I got over my meal issues and went back to being regular and cooking because I don’t suck, I just had some problems, WHICH, I’ll blame on my then flu or whatever the hell was wrong with me for well over 7 days—Rasputin—I was well messed up in the head…robotripping, I think.

Maybe I had that pig flu—oink, oink, I certainly felt like a pig, so maybe.

So I’m going to this Halloween party on Saturday in Boston.

I am excited to see the numero uno Alvin slutbags but my tiny heart is somewhat disappointed I’m not going to the Roc for Ju’s party but I know that not going to Boston would have probably been bad for biznass: and the biznass needs to stay good.

My biggest quip is the whole driving issue…we’re staying at Leggo’s casa which is in Dot and the party is at Jilly’s bar, which is near Hop and the travel between is like 45 minutes, so I’ve made Mego assure me that her man squeeze will be the DD because I am not a fan of driving the cars while drinkings the beers [close your mouth, flies will fall in].

So if I find out there is no DD, NINAMAZING will be pixted off.

I should also point out that the last Halloween that we collectively attended was back in 2005—held at a classy establishment called THE MUFFHOUSE aka The Clubhouse aka The “I may or may not get shot tonight” club; quite a memorable event too.

Stinkin’ and I got into a large, massive fight and I kicked her out of my house for trying to play skin flute games with my guyfriend in my then witch Dr. roomie’s room [chick was a straight up a witch, literally! She was going to that holistic Dr. school in BPT to become a fucking witch Dr. and she had a magic cat named Fleecey who used to try and hypnotize me and scratch me and kill me so she could do experiments on me].

We made up and all that jazz and we’re buddies again but it should definitely be interesting.

Finally, I’d like to see Brooke Bric-a-Brac on Sunday [do you hear me Brooke! I want to see yous!] but I think she’s taking herself to the Cape where she’ll become Mrs. Brooke because she’s going to threaten it to be so; aggressive, I like it.

JINGLE BELLS BATMAN SMELLS SIMON LAID AN EGG THE BATMOBILE LOST ITS WHEEL AND THE JOKER RAN AWAY, HEY!