Cranappleberry

If you’re like me, you’ve probably been convicted of sexual harassment multiple times and LOVE to cook!!!!! I wanted to share a couple of my most sacred recipes that I’ve concocted all by myself.

Chicken Poodle Soup -Made of 16% real poodles!

You’re going to need a huge pot… like big enough to put a dog in. Also, a stove/hot-plate.

- 1 can of Campbell’s “Chicken Noodle Soup”

- I think some water

- 2 dead poodles, TIP: Make sure they are really dead and not just sleeping or you’re going to have some angry poodles on your hands.

- Bring to a boil for about 22 min. or whenever you’re done planning your dog funeral and serve immediately.

Pumpkin Pie -It’s basically the nice aftermath of a pumpkin abortion.

- 3 pumpkins (duh!)

- 1 pie crust… Go to the store. Steal it, pay for it. I don’t care. You just need it!!!

- 1 garden shovel. This is to gut out your pumpkins future babies, because that’s the slimy stuff that makes the pie. I personally leave the pumpkin seeds in, so I can pay tribute to all the babies that died for my pie (just like Jesus).

- Put all that crap together and add some sugar. Bake for the length of an episode of “Gilmore Girls”.

- Let it cool down for 15 min. and then put the entire thing in the trash because I made this when I was super drunk and let me tell you, it was puke-city.

Chicken Parm -Three words: Salmonella, Salmonella, Salmonella!!

- 1lb of Parmesan cheese

- 2 bottles of Merlot

- Half eaten box of cookies

- Ok, I’ll be honest I don’t know how to make Chicken Parm. Usually, I just eat all the Parmesan cheese, get sick, drink the wine to feel better, and then have a night cap of cookies.

Remember, anyone can cook. DO NOT let someone stand in your way by saying things like “Safety first, blah blah blah, I can’t sell you these kitchen sheers, blah blah blah, I’ve never seen someone that drunk before 11am before”.

Happy cooking!!!

Rental Location: 90028

Name of Movie: Pitch Perfect

Credit Card: ****

Hey Redbox,

So here’s what happened, the disc skipped immediately and I only saw about 5 minutes of it. I tried cleaning it but it is so ruined… like there was something really wrong with it. There was splotches all over that wouldn’t come off. I was really sad because I didn’t even want to see Pitch Perfect, but then I was like “Maybe I should give it a chance because I heard really good things and being a movie snob should not be a part of me for 2013”… so I rented it. I don’t know, maybe this is a sign I shouldn’t even watch this movie. Also, I just want to say that I never complain about things so this takes a lot for me to let you know this… but here’s the thing. I still kind of want to see Pitch Perfect. Don’t get me wrong, I know this might be a suicide mission, but I seriously do not want to pay another $1 for it. I can’t justify it when my heart really isn’t sold yet.

Can I say, that I know this is like totally not your fault. Los Angeles is REALLY dirty.

Hope you are having a good day Redbox! Let me know about the whole Pitch Perfect situation.

-Andrea

PS This isn’t a break-up email, I’m still going to rent Redbox movies all the time. I just think we should be on the same page (hugs).

-This is how I spent my morning today, I hope they get back to me fast… like before I change my mind about seeing the movie again. And again.

Like any hip, cool, emotionally hindered lesbian, my Sunday mornings in Los Angeles are typically filled with long periods of time talking with friends about going home with someone after Craft Night. It’s just like Sex And The City, but without all the gross penis talk and Kim Cattrall stinking up the place. 

Here are some inspirational quotes from this weekends mimosa social:

“I knew I should have gotten out of there as soon as I made eye-contact with her cat…”

“The romantic part of the story IS when I didn’t throw up on her”

“Well, did anyone ever stop kissing you to tell you that you should see a therapist?”

“It’s not a good sign if she doesn’t let you play with her PEZ dispenser collection”

“When all is said and done, it doesn’t count if you do it from behind” 

“As soon as she got on top of me, I immediately inhaled a fuzz ball from her sweater”

“You have to stop talking about your Mother as you’re taking your pants off…”

“I never thought I would say this… but there was too many puppets around for me to have an orgasm”

“I think we would be the perfect couple, with that said… she’s still never getting that stain out of the carpet”

I know what you’re all thinking… I can’t believe I’m still single either.

I could see the Christmas Spirit run through my Mother’s body as she started stuffing the turkey slower in the middle of my explanation of what a “power bottom” is. She politely told me to “Get the fuck out of the kitchen!” and I slipped away into the living room to have my sister open up her Christmas present from me a little early. As she cracked open the hamster ball filled with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, she looked at me like “You shouldn’t have, two years in a row!”

That night I stayed up late to get a sneak peak at old Krystle Kringle, and as I was walking down the stairs I saw my Mother face-hugging Santa! At first I was appalled that my Mother would be such a slutbag on Jesus’ b-day, but then I thought about my favorite Christmas carol by Too $hort and said to myself “bitches need love too”.

As I snuck back upstairs to dream about the sugar plums I just took, I smiled and whispered in my best Maury Povich voice “You are not the father!”.

Merry Christmas Everybody!!

Have you ever been on a first date and they ask you a stupid question like “What would you do during a zombie apocalypse?” or “Is that a urn or a purse?” I immediately think about how much I hate this person and I no longer want to pet them anymore. I completely disengage from the date and then stop listening to them all together. Just when I nod my head like I’m fake interested, I think to myself “What if it could really happen? What if one day there really is a zombie chicken pox and I’m totally unprepared!?!”

Here is a to-do list of all the things you will need to survive/party:

-Lock yourself in the bathroom with enough rubbing alcohol to kill a kitten.

-Probably a machete…

-Three words: Skittles, Skittles, Skittles! 1) You can eat them (duh!) 2) You can throw them on the ground and then the zombies will trip on them and fall (zombies are known for not being very aware of their surroundings).

-Don’t call your Mother.

-A kitten

-“Friends” Season 2 because they will always be there for you.

-Ketchup 1) You can eat it (duh!) 2) If a zombie finds you, put ketchup all over your body and they will think you’re a zombie blood brother therefore not eating your face.

Let’s be honest, I’m really going to mix a delightful cocktail of prozac and Colt 45 called “the Frank Sinatra”. After 4 of these, I will go to sleep forever because I’m really scared of zombies and I’m lazy. But, if any survivors come across my body they will find all the things on this list and think I really tried to hold my own like a bad-ass fighter lady.

P.S. I don’t mean to be a whistle-blower but my date didn’t work out after I Frank Sinatra’d her.

Thanksgiving is a beautiful time of year, where my family gets together and my Uncle looks at me like a terrorist when I explain what tofurkey is. I just tell him it’s the roids talking and we get on with the day. After that, my Mother throws the rolls against the wall and if they stick then we know it’s time to eat.

My favorite part of Thanksgiving is sitting around the table and telling each other what we are thankful for. My Mother tells us that she’s thankful for her beautiful children and paxil. My Brother likes to share what he’s NOT thankful for… spoiler alert, it’s his wide child bearing hips. Then my Grandmother makes fun of my Mothers cooking by telling us that her Jell-O is a yellow piece of crap and that she’s pretty sure she found one of her red hairs in it. Then I have to explain, “Um, Grandma, they’re called Native Americans!”.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!!!!

Sometimes I’m not sure if my sister has a case of ”bulimia”, “anorexia”, or “my Mom called me fat in my prom dress’ia”.