Garlic Parmesan Roasted Potatoes

Aren't you glad you waited for this? Trust me...you are. These little pieces of heaven are worth a try. And SO simple. If I can do it...ANYBODY can. De-freaking-licious. So what you will need:

3-4 medium red potatoes, cut into small wedges
3 TBS olive oil
1/3 C parmesan cheese
1 1/2 tsp garlic salt
1 tsp paprika
sea salt to taste



Now this is the recipe as listed at http://imperrfections.wordpress.com/2010/05/07/parmesan-roasted-potatoes/
It may be my taste but I do NOT need to add salt...between the garlic salt and how salty parmesan is, it was totally unnecessary for me. Also, it says that this serves 2-3...not true. These are way too delicious to only serve 2-3 people meaning I always make more than the recommended serving. SO here's how we make these life-altering, mind numbing, yummy pieces of awesome.

Wash those bad boys up. They grew in the ground...and never got washed. So unless you like dirt on your potatoes, give those babies a bath.

And Here are your ingredients.

Cut your potatoes like so

They'll look like this once chopped. Then put your chopped potatoes in a bowl with the olive oil and mix.

Mix together your dry ingredients and dump that shit on the potatoes and toss and mix it all together. This is when the magic starts to happen. These ingredients smell like heaven on freakin earth.

Throw them on a baking sheet and in the oven at 425. Make sure they are in a single layer. Put them in for 25 mins then turn them over (which I am still working on exactly how to make them not stick) for another 10 and then prepare your tastebuds for THIS awesomeness:

Once I can figure out how the hell to make them not stick it'll be perfect. But these pictures do ZERO justice to how they taste. OH MY LANTA. They are crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside and the flavor is just out of this world. If you do not try them...I PROMISE you will regret it and it will haunt you for all of eternity. Go ahead, you know you wanna try em ;) And when you do let me know what you think!

17 Lights

There are 17 lights on my way to work. Yep. Today I counted them. There are also 4 of those flashing yellow blinky lights. Now I guess this wouldn't be a huge deal if my work were say...30 or even 20 miles away. So how far away is work for me you ask?...6...6 damn miles. That is the most ridiculously stupid thing ever. Which means, according to how my life works I hit anywhere between 80 and 90 percent of them. Who, may I ask, even thought to put THIS many lights in such a small freaking area? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.


And what's more the people in my town are (understandably so) fed up with this clusterfuck of lights, that they blow through them...ALL.THE.TIME. I have never seen people run red lights like they do in my town. EVER. It's insane. When a light turns green, it is suicide to Mario Andretti your ass through it...because GUARANTEED there is at least one...if not TWO people about to run the red light going in the opposite direction. Suicide I tell you. And I can't say I never run red lights...cause I totally do, usually not out of spite for the number of red lights I need to sit at. Normally when I run a red light it's one of those, "Oh the light turned yellow but I'm going too fast to stop in a normal manner so that the person behind me doesn't rear end me" (I always picture cars that stop too fast in cartoons and the rear end of the car lifts up from the force of the stop. Awesome visual, I know.) And of course I've had the occasional times where I'm like "Fuck it, I'm going"...and we all know what makes those moments awesome...When the person BEHIND YOU also runs the red light. Because you know YOU ran it...that guy like BLATANTLY ran it (like a boss)...and his ass is grass if the cops are around, and yours is safe. Score.

Welp, today's a big day for me..I'll make sure to share sometime later on ;). And tonight I will be following up with the most delicious-fantastic-mouthwatering-lifealtering recipe EVER. Prepare accordingly.

Pepé Le Back-the-f*ck-off

Now I'm no stranger to wildlife, I lived in the boondocks for 23 years of my life (which as of right now is all the years of my life) and we had no shortage animal friends. Foxes, deer, turkeys, possums, raccoons (Jesus .. It sounds bananas when you list em off) you name it..we had it. Well I now live in a new neighborhood... And it's much less woodsy and ALOT more living on top of your neighbors. So needless to say I expected little to no wildlife with the exception of birds and the occasional squirrel.

So I'm running a bit behind for work today and I'm furiously trying to get to my car. I run outside and a car passing by beeped. Normally this wouldn't bother me so much however I still was only about 45% awake so it scared the shit out of me. I turn to give them my best "fuck you" face when I noticed I wasn't alone. There, about 10 ft from me was a skunk. Like .. A cat sized skunk... Just waddling around minding his own business. I attempted to get in my car but every move I made.. He would stop and hesitate for a moment. It would be one thing to be 10 minutes late to work.. It would be a whole other if I was 10 minutes late and smelt like a skunk's ass. So I made certain to tread VERY carefully.

This little bastard apparently has taken residence under our shed. Fan-freaking-tastic. Thank god I got away. But now I will forever be looking out for this little guy like the crazy old lady who says she sees shit no one else sees. So what did I do you ask? I made sure I got proof.

Good Job

I think there is nothing more undervalued in the workplace than telling an employee they've done a good job. I'm not happy with the number of jobs I've had in the last two years or so. And while my reasoning for leaving each job is VASTLY different (co-worker stealing from other co-workers,temp-position, moving to a new house)... I can't remember the last time someone really truly came up to me and thanked me for a job well done. The temp position I held for a summer was in manufacturing. It was the most monotonous job on earth, but the people were fantastic and they CONSTANTLY rewarded you with a smile and "Great Job!" if your work was quick and quality (which mine ALWAYS was...obviously). And really...nothing motivated me more as an employee than hearing someone tell me they appreciated my work. I don't need a bonus or incentives every time I do a good job...really...I just want someone to APPRECIATE my hard work on occasion.

And what's better, oftentimes not only will employers NOT give you a pat on the back when deserved but when you do mess up or get slower or whatever the issue may be they NAG THE SHIT OUT OF YOU. So let me get this straight...you want to keep me as an employee right? So why the hell are you only making a point to tell me when I've done something WRONG as opposed to the many times I do something well or RIGHT.

Also,in order to DO a good job one must know wtf they're doing, am I right? In order to know what to do, and how to do said job best, one must be trained. Even if you are a freaking professional at what you do, different places may have different policies and rules...whatever it may be. Regardless of how much you know walking into a job, you NEED to be trained. And what happens when you aren't? Well...you look like an asshole of course. That, my friends, is the other thing that seriously grinds my gears. I am MORE than eager to learn. At any position, really. Because I always strive to make people happy, to get that "good job" at the end of the day. And I can't do that if people won't take the time to help me. Long story short, today's post is a Debbie Downer Monday post. It doesn't help that today started out with a skunk....more on THAT later I promise. But for now, I may be sensing a change in the VERY near future....and one that could very well change my perspective on things, for the way WAY better.

Nikon Day

Welp, it's Saturday...and as fantastic as that fact is, boyfriend is at work, and the best friends are either 500+ miles away or busy. Even bug is too busy for mama today. She's fast asleep on the couch next me, in a position I'm pretty sure would cause scoliosis in a normal human being. So the majority of my day has been spent with the dogs, my Nikon, and the TV. I know, borderline hermit. Oh, well. The best part of today has been the fact that I have zero responsibility and can sit on my ass if I so choose, that, my friends, is why Saturday's are awesome. I've been doing a little experimenting with the camera now that I've had a couple months with it and I hope to start to fine tune my abilities. And while I still don't have half decent editing software, I must say, they didn't turn out so bad.











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Why is Your Shovel Sticky?

There are no shitty stories that start with "this one time in college..." Screw band camp. All good stories start with binge drinking and college. So gather round and I'll tell you the tale of the sticky shovel.

So this one time in college my two best friends and I were preparing for a typical night out. We started at their sorority with what I have to imagine was the world's cheapest vodka and pre-gamed our little hearts out until it was time to leave.

After some time had passed we decided it would be a good time to go, and off we went to the car. Now if you remember from posts past I live in New England. And no good story is also complete without a good New England snowstorm. We had had a decent amount of snow on the ground which meant that it needed to be moved somehow because behind the tires of a little ford focus was a giganta-huge pile of snow. Andddd not only that the car itself was covered in the fluffy white stuff.

Luckily for us we happened to have a couple of shovels in the trunk. So we each took our instrument of choice to help unbury this little car. In order to maintain my balance in the snow I held onto the car quickly, just to get my footing. Well this happened to be at the exact same time my friend decided to close the trunk. And yes, in case you were wondering, the trunk did close right on finger.

Thankfully, due partially to the fact that I had consumed a fairly decent quantity of alcohol and also in part to the angle at which my finger was wedged in there I really didn't feel much of anything but pressure. And I'm not saying that to sound like some big asshole tough guy.. My friends can attest to the fact that I wasn't swearing or screaming or anything of the sort. But I looked up and said "oh my god.. My fingers shut in the trunk". Lindsay (my friend that slammed the trunk on finger) FREAKS out shouting "oh my god, oh my god! I'm so sorry! Oh my god! What do I do?! Oh my god!" In a straight up panic and here I am with my finger in the trunk, cool as a cucumber, while the poor girl thinks she's dismembered me. I look at her ... Tell her to relax and just open the trunk.

After a few more "oh my gods" and "I'm sorrys" the trunk was open. I looked at my middle finger... Examined it closely and... Nothing... Honestly.. It started to sting a bit but it looked completely fine.

Surprised, I just continued to shovel while Lindsay continued to apologize. A couple minutes go by and I noticed the shovel started to feel sticky, I disregarded it at first, assuming my hands must have been sweating but after another minute the stickiness didn't seem to feel like what I'd imagine stickiness from sweat would be like so I looked up and said "why is your shovel sticky?". Being that there was no light in the parking lot I couldn't see what was on the shovel until I managed to bring it into the little light that was available and discovered the stickiness was in fact, my blood. And not just a little blood...like a-scene-from-jaws amount of blood.

My hand, the shovel, and the ground was COVERED in my blood...it had even started pooling at my feet. And yet still... Zero pain.

So the girls insisted I go inside and let one of the girls who was a nursing major take a look at it. A large amount of paper towels, a bathroom sink, and a bandaid later we were off and running.

We finally get to the party, which was a rugby party and we were schmoozing and finally enjoying ourselves. A little later on we decided to take part in a stupid college game called zoomy. If you don't know the game or how it works its fairly irrelevant all you need to know us it involves banging your fists on a table.

The giant rugby guy next to me stops me mid game grabs my arms and proceeds to tell me i'm bleeding everywhere....yep. He was right ....I had bled through the bandaid and it was still dripping out of me...I ended up spending the majority of the night in the bathroom running water in the cut and making a feeble attempt to clot the blood with the giant rugby guy as my medic.

These things...these heinous, outrageous, stupid ass things...I swear they only happen to me.

Photo Dump

Photo dump from over the weekend...


The dogs leave their toys everywhere.

Spring is on it's way! FINALLY. Bring on the warm weather, baby!

Yummmm..home made steak and cheese.

Puppy-face

Eating for One

The worst thing you can do while pregnant is give in to the mentality that "I'm pregnant... I'm eating for two" NO YOU'RE NOT EATING FOR TWO. I mean TECHNICALLY yes you're eating for two... But not a normal sized second person... Not two fully sized people. It's you and a person the size of your freakin forearm... And that little person will only require 3 to 500 extra calories per DAY ... Not PER MEAL depending on how far along you are in your pregnancy. And what's worse is other people will just keep trying to feed you! "Here, Kerin ..please eat these cookies" or "I bought you 16 bags of candy because I knew you were craving them". Yes I was craving them ... But it was just that.. A craving. It doesn't mean I need it... And that, my friends is EXCTLY how you gain twice the recommended amount of weight during a pregnancy.

So now I'm back to dieting just as I had before bug. I HAD been losing weight up until the pregnancy and now back I go to wonderful world of dieting and excerise. Hooray! I'll be posting recipes I suppose....maybe that will be just the motivation I need to stay on track...here's hoping.

I Want It All

I'm sure you're familiar with the saying “Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.” Gee, thanks Confucius...But if I did that I'd be 4 trillion dollars in debt. And the more I truly think about what would make me happy the more confused I become. I love interior design and all things decorating. I have a knack for it... I always have. It's actually what I went to school for however, being in the field now makes me honestly consider if it would be enough.

I also love and sincerely miss working with children. I thought that would go away after having bug...but it hasn't. I worked as a babysitter starting at the very very early age of 12 and continued to do so in my spare time up until a year ago. I worked as a camp counselor for four years and also as a teaching assistant in an early learning center. EVERY SINGLE one of these jobs I have loved. There is nothing more fulfilling to me then working with children and watching them learn and grow into these little people. And yes, granted I had my few kids I wanted to throw out the window on occasion, but at the end of the day, those kids still had my heart. I'm pretty certain my love of working with children stems from being an only child. As a kid I begged and begged for my parents to give me a brother or sister and it just wasn't meant to be. All my friends would tell me how lucky I am and how great it is to not have anyone picking on you or having to share anything but people who have siblings really don't understand how lonely it is. The grass is always greener on the other side right? Well, these kids became that for me.

I'll never forget my final week working at the school a parent came up to me and gave me a hug and said "Can I tell you something?...I love that not once have I ever heard you call them "my students" you ALWAYS refer to them as "my kids"" And that's what they were to me. As much as I was there to help them learn, they were also MY kids. One little girl, let's call her E...her, her mother, and father were like the world's most PERFECT family. Like, super sweet and loving, and always smiling, just perfect. Well, E was SUPER quiet, especially when I had first met her, but what a sweetheart she was. She was sort of picked on by the other girls for being so quiet so I would take them all aside and try and work my magic. Soon enough E started opening up and she would come to me with issues with other children or if she just needed a lap to sit on.

One day I needed to leave early for an appointment of sorts and just made a quick announcement during lunch to the class that I would be leaving for the rest of the day and E instantly bowed her head and started to cry. I felt AWFUL. My heart shattered. I assumed she would just get over it and forget I was even gone, as I'm sure the rest of the class did. So I gave her a hug told her I'd be back the next day, and left. But the next day, her mom came up to me and said that E had mentioned I left yesterday and was sad THE REST OF THE NIGHT. Little did I know how much of an impact I had on this little girl, her mom looked at me smiled and said "She talks about you all the time, she really loves you" squeezed my arm and left. I was blown away. Shortly after this I had decided that I was going to leave the school and knew I needed to break it to the class. The LAST thing I had wanted was to leave these kids. It took me a week...A WEEK to muster up the courage to tell them. And when I did E was a wreck. She cried even during naptime...so I sat beside her cot and held her hand until she fell asleep. My final day at work when her mom came to pick her up HER MOM was crying. This sweet woman, I couldn't even believe it. She told me I was the first person that E had really let in...she's always extremely quiet but she wasn't when she was with me. I had no idea I meant that much to them. And she gave me the most heartfelt card. I miss them, so so much.

I also would love to pursue photography. But it's one of the few jobs that requires an investment. And photography equipment and software is NOT FUCKING CHEAP. Lenses for a camera can cost 2..even 3 times as much as the actual camera EACH. And Photoshop is like 400+. Oy. I just don't have that kinda money.

I also love to be a stay at home mom and spend all hours of the day with bug, playing and cuddling.

I just want it all. And the only solution to that is winning the lottery apparently. That way I could pursue all outlets and never worry about how much I was making or how much things were costing.

Maybe one day I'll figure it out but for now I'll be stuck in this job-limbo. Awesome.

Sunday Funday in Pictures.

Bug in a bear suit


Sleepy Bug


Sad Bug


The puppy having an emo moment








The letters I painted for Bug's nursery


Frozen Fruit in Sangria is not only genius but DELICIOUS.

Screw You, Bluetooth

You know what really grinds my gears? BLUETOOTH. OH MY FUCKING LANTA. Bluetooth should have one purpose and one purpose only...DRIVING. Any other time you are on bluetooth (unless you are legitimately using both hands or need to for safety reasons)you are an asshole. First off, you look like you're off your damn rocker talking to yourself...Secondly, because of your proximity to me, now I'm not sure if you're talking to me or to yourself and I don't wanna be rude if you ARE talking to me...so now I'm eavesdropping to debate if you are, in fact, talking to me. And when I still can't tell so I politely say "I'm sorry?"... now you look at me like I'M fucking nuts...and now I in fact look like the asshole. UGH. I'm just trying to not be rude to you and ignore you if you ARE talking to me...but excuse ME. This conundrum would all be solved if your lazy ass would use a cellphone like a normal flippin person.

I just experienced this at work with an individual who was just walking around laughing to himself...or so it appeared. Now I'm sitting here shitting my pants thinking this guy is bananas like those homeless people that talk to themselves....until I realized this guy had a bluetooth on. WTF. I hate you bluetooth. No...hate does not accurately describe my dislike....despise...detest...LOATHE ENTIRELY.

Remember that vacation I was just bitching about needing? Yep....definitely still need it.

Manic Monday

Time seriously has been flying lately. ESPECIALLY the weekends... I swear I'd be a more apt, happy, and far less unruly individual if weekends were 3 days. Let's just make Monday a weekend day so it can stop having a bad rap.....OR I guess I'd be satisfied if we were allowed mid day naps.



I...I HAVE time for that. Plenty.

SO Mondays truly just suck now. I'm tired, I miss my bug after a whole weekend of cuddling, I'm cranky...and then I get to work and this is what happens.



So now not only am I a total bitchfest, I'm unproductive.

But you know the one thing that would make all this BS go away...permanent 3 day weekends aside? A VACATION.

To say I'm a traveler would be putting it lightly...seriously. I've been to Spain, Aruba, the Bahamas, Punta Cana, Quebec, Florida, California, Myrtle Beach...And many of these places I've been numerous times. I can't get enough. I love warm weather. I love beaches. I love DISNEY. And that, my friends, is where I plan to vacation next. My last vacation was to California to visit one of my best friends but we did spend a day there, but one day in Disney? Never enough. Even Disneyland requires AT LEAST 2 days. So this momma is saving her money starting now. Bug NEEDS a trip to Florida, and it's been far too long since I've been.


Photo courtesy of the Walt Disney World facebook page that never ceases to remind me how badly I need a freaking trip back.

I CAN NOT WAIT for my bug to meet the first person who has and will always have a piece of my heart...



XXS68W94MT7Y

Baby Ballerina

I just wish now that I had some seriously good editing software instead of the piece-o-crap I've been using. Maybe one day...

Flashback Friday

TGIF baby! Seriously. Ugh what a week! I can't wait for this long ass week to just be OVER. I need me some cuddlin time with my bug, seeing her for only a few hours a night really isn't cutting it. So I figured I'd touch back on my flashback friday topic from last week and sweet baby jesus am I reminiscing.

Inflatable Furniture



Remember this shit?! I had like a whole damn living room set in my room, like a boss...complete with couch, seat, and ottoman. Mine was in purple (obviously)....looking back I totally miss it...but let me tell you, that shit has come a LONG way and yes...it's STILL around.



Seriously?!! Where was this when we were kids? This is LEGITIMATE inflatable furniture. Awesome possum.


View Master



Some evil genius somewhere was making bank off of dumbasses willing to pay money to look at like a half dozen pictures through retarded binoculars. And yet regardless, I still loved this little freakin thing to no end.

Lisa Frank



Lisa fucking Frank...that bitch had the best rainbow school shit EVER. I had EVERYTHING Lisa Frank as a kid. Pencils, trapperkeepers (yea buddy...you remember those bad boys dontcha), notebooks, you name it..I had it. LOVED HER. Nuff said.

Pick up Sticks



Another evil genius of the 90s. This is how that board meeting went "Hey, I have an idea....lets take 30 multicolored shish kabob skewers throw em in a box and market that shit as a game" What was the object of the game? Pick up the most sticks (duh). Ah, how the simplest shit could entertain us for hours on end.

Well today's been fifty shades of nuts so I may or may not be adding to this later on. But make sure you comment and subscribe!

C'est La Vie

Recently I bought me a new car. This was a life altering event. It was my first "big girl" purchase, and to say it's been my best purchase to date would be an understatement.



I mean. Just look at her (her name is Violet by the way...you can't see it in the picture very well but she's actually purple. IN LOVE...and yes, I'm one of those crazies that names their car). HOWEVER today my "best purchase ever" is kicking me in the ass. Today, my car hates me. And nothing terrifies the ever living shit out of me more than a malfunctioning vehicle. I have been in my fair share of predicaments with vehicles, and now having bug, I'm the worlds largest worry wart. My old car (the car I was given in high school) was previously owned by Satan. That car had it out for me and in the span of two years I had been stranded AT LEAST a half dozen times. That asshole on the side of the road, bawling their eyes out, throwing shit around like a nutbag and having a spastic fit in their car? Ya ...that's me. It happens after the third or fourth time your reject-mobile breaks down in a ridiculously short period of time. Needless to say, that made purchasing a new (to me) car all the more comforting.

While on the topic, I've also been stranded in OTHER peoples cars, because... well... that's just my shitty ass luck. The boyfriend and I a year and a half or so ago got in a huge fight and broke up. So in typical best friend fashion my two best friends took it upon themselves to take me on a road trip to get it off my mind. And yes, it is just how you are picturing it. So off we travel in a VW bug (I wish I could make this shit up)off to new york city, which for us was about a 3-3 1/2 hour drive. Well my friends bug (the car...not my baby) is about as reliable as the titanic. In other words, about halfway there, we break down. SOO now not only am I grieving from the breakup, now we're stranded in the middle-of-fucking-nowhere Connecticut, in the parking lot of a drug store. So what is the only solution? We drink. And oh my lanta did we ever. We basically played hot potato with a bottle of vodka and finished an entire bottle (straight, mind you) in roughly 5 minutes. It was as disgusting as it was ridiculous. We had to get towed from Connecticut to Rhode Island and they slapped us with a GIANT ASS tab. Awesome.

So long story short, I'm accustomed to this shit-fest. Now my new car this morning? Ugh. Thankfully boyfriend is more than handy in the car department and hopefully I wont need to hand over an arm and a leg to pay for the damn thing. Oh well....C'est la vie, right?

Mush Brain

Ahhhh...post pregnancy mush brain, this shit is scientific fact...seriously. It's AWFUL. Nevermind the fact that I have the attention span and memory of a box of fucking rocks to begin with, now lets add a baby shall we?

I don't think I have finished one thought, sentence, idea, project, whatever from start to finish. There's no going from A to B in one shot. I'm at fucking Q before I see an end in sight.

So now not only do I have a 6 week old and a boyfriend who sometimes acts like a toddler (sorry, babe)(this will be the ultimate test as to whether or not he reads my blog to begin with) but NOW I'm back to work and we are busier than EVER. Holy brain mush, Batman.

And what's better? I work with customers all day and they are forced to see me in this state of absolute lunacy.

Example? You know when you walk in a room and you say to yourself "Shit, why am I in here again?"...To the average person, that probably happens MAYBE once a day....me? Once every hour or two. Seriously. It's so bad I have to hope I have something in my hand to give me some semblance of a clue like I'm Sherlock fucking Holmes trying to solve his own damn mystery.

Post it notes have become my best friend. Because I can't hold onto something in my mind longer than .27 seconds. People are beginning to think I'm crazy or slow or something. I have no less than 6 post it notes on my desk at any one given time strewn with spastic notes.

So I've finally come to the conclusion that my elevator no longer goes to the top floor..I'm one sandwich short of a picnic..off my rocker...and you know what? I may be going absolutely fucking bananas but the fact that I get to come home to this face at the end of the day makes it totally worth it.

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