Some things threaten to break your mind before they break your heart.

On a slightly different note... Israel is really getting annoying.  Seriously.  It's like watching a toddler pitch a fit.  With missiles.  Not to say that the human lives of those soldiers isn't worth fighting for, but Is-rizzle is doing much more harm than good.  And oh, wouldn't it be ironic if they hit the building where those men were being housed?  *Shakes head*  Did they even try diplomacy, on the off-chance that something might come through?  Or was it kind of like starting a race and saying "Onetwothreego!" and streaking away before your opponent even has time to check his shoelace?  "Give'embackorwebomb*BOOM*" 

And here we have the Reader's Digest version of current events in Southwest Asia:

Isreal: "You have some of our soldiers!"  *NUKE*
Lebanon: "Aiiiiiiiiiiii!"
U.S.: "Errr... Ooh, looky!  Something in the opposite direction!"  *Stares at it*
Israel: "Iran, you looked at us funny!  You must be with THEM!"
Iran: "Wait, what?!"  *Aide hands PR guru a brief*  "Oh.  That thing."
Israel: *Threaten* *Threaten* *Threaten*
Everyone: *Cringe*
Lebanon: "Hey you guys...?"
Israel: *NUKE*  ...*NUKE*  *NUKE*  *NUKE*
Lebanon: "Aiiiiiiiiiiii!"
Iran: "Blah blah blah, neither confirm nor deny these allegations, but if it helps we have been working with Hezbollah for, um, oh.  I mean... Bad!"
France: "Vive la revolucion!"

Vive la revolucion indeed.

In the mean time, get me some Aleve.

So there we sat in the broken apartment, clustered the three of us in the one place that was untouched.  The back door was wide open to the world, and a small square of light illuminated the wall of plant life which hid the highway so nearby.  After midnight, even in Antioch, nobody was on the roads.  R was seated at the computer, clicking through MySpace and reading LiveJournal comments aloud as they came in.  S was curled up on the papisan chair rubbing C's head; it was the only thing that would calm him down.  A pump-action shotgun lay on the floor beside them as they waited for the police to come.

They did, of course, but not until after three hours had passed.  As the officer walked in the door, K took one look and literally inhaled her soda.  "You thought he was cute, too, didn't you?"  R asked.  "Yeah...." the other girl replied, as sheepish as she could be while choking.  The officer came and went, but not before they had both noticed the wedding band.  An investigator showed up, deeming nearly everything unfit for fingerprints.  After helping the officer's, S resumed his seat on the floor.  R lit another cigarette, and the smoke dangled itself through the air.  Talk of astrology as a science began, and C rattled off numerous obscure details, surprising S and intriguing R.  Marlboros mixed in the air with rum and soda and easy talk as a complete stranger wearing purple gloves picked through the remaining belongings.  He had easy going of it -- everything was on the floor.

C sighed.  "Two days before I moved..."

So it would seem the literal shit has hit the proverbial fan.

Isreal is going to work on Lebanon in the own-your-face way.

And Iran is asserting its justifiable right to develop nuclear technologies.
Which I fully support.  I mean, really, they say they're going to use it for peaceful purposes, so why bother getting into a star-spangled snit about things until they violate that claim??  That's like paying interest on money you haven't yet borrowed.

Meanwhile, back on the ranch, I have uncovered an obsession with Hamlet's Ophelia, writing a poem thereof, and pre-Raphaelite artistry.

GAHHHHHHHH!

I found a DVD copy of my favourite movie ((EVER)) at Wal-Mart for $5.50.  *Long, High-Pitched Squeal*

Dead Again: A story of murder, revenge, true love, and past lives ...To put it in the insanely Reader's-Digest form.  I cry -- literally, bawling, cry -- every time I see this movie.  Because it's just so beautiful.  We need to have a movie night at my house and watch it.

And it looks like I'm going to reside in a dorm, instead of the ever-so-fabulous apartment.  I've been doing a lot of thinking about that, and it just seems like the most logical, cheapest thing.  Because if I'm leaving in two years to another dormitory anyway, it wouldn't make sense to set up complete house.  And if I study abroad like I want to, that would be even more screwing over of the self.

So rawr.  No mad-rad house-warming party.  Boo.  *Weeps*  But it's for the best.

...Just remind me that this was my choice when my roommate turns out to be an aggressive butch-lesbian satanist and the asbestos starts speaking in tongues.  O_O  Egad!!

So yeah.  Good day.  Nothin' like Panera Bread-vintage-stores-free-concerts-and-espresso-beans-with-a//the-Vegan.  Woohoo!

If the soccer team is any indication of the current state in Italy, I am SO marrying an Italian man.

{{They travel in black suits.  Their captain’s name is Fabio.  Granted, the ones with longer hair appear to own several shares of stock in hair gel, but that’s easily forgiven.}}

{{Mmmmmmmm.  Does this make them eye caramella instead??}}

{{^^ Captain Fabio, debating how he will propose holy matrimony to me.}}

Me: "Not the faaaace!!"

Coach: "…And this is what happens when we mix whites with reds in the laundry!"
Player: "Dude, that so wasn’t me."

LATER...

"Whoever did this is gonna dieeeeee..."

{{Brokeback Appenines Mountains.  Believe me, there are more game-action shots like that. It could have looked much, much worse.}}

{{Talk about hurting when you fall from heaven.   I HAD TO SAY IT!!}}

"Okay, so maybe croquet wouldn’t have been that bad."

Me: "Skank, step back. They’re mine."

"…What?  I’m stretching!  ....Weirdo."

{{Unseemly amounts of sweat never looked so good.}}

{{Further proof in the power of soccer.}}

Coach: "Mussolini was an AMETEUR."

"So… When do you think they’ll find out about the laundry?"

"Uhhhhhh… Now. TOLD you we shouldn’t have separated ours out!!"

Does anyone have a "pre-customs" workbook for MTSU that I can swipe?  In their infinite wisdom, the university decided to make all crucial PDF downloads incompatible with the basic Windows program.

Then again, what else should I expect?  This is also the institution that took one phone call and three pissed-off visits before they'd approve my basic financial aid, and still sent out a letter saying I was screwed the day it all passed.  So I'm not really expecting anything spectacular or even elementary from them.  "Blessed are they who expect nothing, for you shall never be disappointed."

I will kill them all one day.  Or at least thoroughly erode their self-esteem until every last one of them is but a shell of their former selves.

After 20 years, a man has emerged from an MCS {{Minimally Conscious State}}.  This article absolutely floored me.

http://health.msn.com/healthnews/articlepage.aspx?cp-documentid=100139038

E.B.S. {{Extremely Bogus Situation}}: So my family decided to have the 4th of July on the 3rd.  Bear with me, I'm not being psychotic.  Under normal circumstances {{i.e. say Dad had to go fly on the 4th}}, this would be understandable, even embraced.  But no.  My aunt has plans with her boyfriend on the 4th.  So instead of just accepting the fact that she made alternative plans and dealing with it like a big girl {{she's the one who made said plans, after all}} suddenly we're grilling out and being happy like the Cleavers and accomodating her because she's already arranged to be elsewhere tomorrow.  I've missed, say, Memorial Day for the past three years due to the Renaissance Festival, which in my opinion is a far higher calling that some lousy date {{but I'm bitter and weird, so maybe that's what's talking}}.  Are we defrosting burgers on Tuesdays instead?  Um, no.  And I'm fine with that.  Because I chose to do something else, and since I chose to do that Something Else and physics will not allow us to be in two places at once, I "miss out," as it were.  That's a "consequence" or a "result" of my choice, and I live with it.  Some people, however, do not seem so capable of basic adult reasoning.  What the hell.  This is so screwed up.  That entire side of the family is screwed up.  Mental issues frickin' abound.

And they're leaving.  Thank God.

Sorry about that.  I just had to vent.  It might seem trivial, but I got really pissed off.  There's more where that came from, believe you me.  Like, headache-inducing amounts, et cetera.

So.... Um.... Happy Independence Day.  Early.
*Sparkler*

Okay.  A long, long time ago I fell madly {{and unrequitedly-slash-he-had-no-clue}} in love with a gorgeous gentleman.  We'll call him Fido.  No, it wasn't a dog.  That's gross.  REGARDLESS.  Fido and I had seen each other occassionally at the place of commerce where he works and established a rather lovely rapport, if I do say so.  Got on first name basis, exchanging life//childhood details, et cetera.  Certain friends who knew of my undying love {{tongue-in-cheek, haha, no pun intended *wink*}} were harrassing me about making 'moves' and being bold and other crap like that.  All of the above has gotta count for something, right?  So I'm in Place of Commerce and we're talking, asking how each other is, pleasantry-pleasantry-pleasantry.  And Fido says he's even better than last time we talked!  Well, of course, I ask why.  Share the joy, and all.

"Well, I got another job, and tomorrow my wife finds out if she's having a boy or a girl!"

?!!!

My response: to gasp rather too loudly and clap both hands over my mouth.  Fortunately, Fido interpreted this as shared happiness for him, and added, "Yeah, I'm pretty excited, too."  At this point I had recovered my composure enough to whip out those improvisational acting skillZ and congratulate and be all girly with his girly coworkers about it.  {{All the while contemplating suicide.}}

AGH!!  UGH!!  URRRG!!!!  *Spasm*

My one true love has betrayed me.... *Melodramatic Fainting Motions*

So yeah, I thought you guys might enjoy that and get a good laugh out of my broken heart.  </3  Because I don't want to suffer in vain, you know.  ;)

Yeah, I'll laugh after the therapy.  Chocolate counts as therapy, right??

So the mandate concerning my attendance to at least one house of Judeo-Christian worship on Sundays has been lifted.  I'd sing hallelujiah, but that would be what we call "contradictory."

Let's see if they mean it this time.  Four years ago, yeah, people kind of went back on their word, which even now clenches the muscles within my jaw to vice-like proportions.  I guess they thought my views would change with age.  Instead, without the freedom to choose as I saw fit, I stopped believing in anything at all, which they may or may not deem worse.

Que pensez-vous?  Quel est plus mal?
{{What do you think?  Which is worse?}}

By the way.... I have the most awesome French book for intermediate study.  It's packed full of idioms and proper grammar.  Inches thick.  And only $15.  I love it.  *Hugs book*  His name {{for "livre" is a masculine noun en francais}} is Etienne.  Or perhaps Guillaume.  Decisions, decisions.  Etienne-Guillaume!!  Hahahahaaaaaaa!!!!!  I can't wait to go to Starbucks and study E.G. for as everyone knows, Starbucks is inherently conducive to scholarly pursuit.

A bientot!

Hang me from the highest branch.
Scorn me with your sharpest words.
Leave me, trailing, days on days.
Feed my body to the birds.

Rip apart my memories.
Mock the works of mine own hand.
Tell all my love was simple lying.
Sear me with the traitors brand.

Slash out my existence.
Ensconce me in obliging ground.
But know this if ye think to try:
The truth wont die without a sound.

-- © Kelly Sullivan
-- June 25, 2oo6

Highlights from the past few days....

-- Going from pyjamas-and-last-night's-makeup to office-worthy-presentable, making a Starbucks run, and the drive to Nashville in under 90 minutes {{no small feat for me, particularly the zero-to-presentable aspect}}.

-- Making phone calls and pretending to be a wise, benevolent god of finance at a title company.  {{Just use your first name when calling, which implies that they should know you by that alone.  Oh yes.}}

-- When asked details I don't know, scrapping the deity concept.  "Let me double-check on that ma'am//sir, I'm just a temp worker."

-- Not quite sure if this is a highlight in the Joy-Elation sense, but a gaggle of girls stalked me around the Forever 21 store in Opry Mills examining the racks I touched.  It's a tough call between Freakishly Scary or Cute In A Stalker Way.

-- And this definitely isn't a highlight in the Joy-Elation sense: a kiosk worker at Opry Mills stopped me and I first thought he was trying to sell me something.  "You wear a ring?"  "No thank you, I'm not interested."  "No, no, you wear a ring?"  Man holds up left hand.  Mine is firmly inserted in a pants pocket.  I look at my visible right hand.*  "No, I'm not wearing a ring.  I'm allergic to the metals."  Man grins.  "Noooo, a ring!"  Points at my left hand, points at the ring finger of his own.  "Uhhhhh.... I have to go now...."  Perhaps not the most eloquent response, but I doubt anything more would have been understood, as his English was a bit spotty.  Trauma.

-- A run-in with the unknowing love of my life {{granted, there are many of these}}, Capuccino Man.

-- Prix-Saint-Georges dressage riding at Miller Coliseum.  Oh, sweet heaven.  Never have I seen more beautiful riding.  The freestyle to music routines were all right, but the seven-minute tests where the horse seemed to be floating above the ground were my absolute favourite.  Beauty.  Almost makes me want to climb back on one of the beasts.  Almost.  Hmmm....

{{Aside from the obvious fact that Kelly is a raving heretic.}}

The first time since Sunday that I've actually made an effort, gotten dressed beyond pyjama pants and a tank top {{or a swimsuit, for that matter}}, actually put makeup on.... And my car refuses to start. REFUSES to START. The temerity. If I didn't love that metal frame on wheels so much, I'd.... *Graphic depiction of vehicular demise, rife with expletives*

So.... Who wants to come pick Kelly up and go have a wild time of some form or fashion? I smell good.... Hahahaha.

::EDIT::

So apparently God and Kelly have a love-hate relationship. That whole door-window thing from The Sound of Music, and all. {{Except God doesn't just close the door, he closes it on my hand. Ouchies. But when he opens a window, at least it's the open-late drive-through of a medical complex of sorts.}} Thank you for rescuing me, Andrew!! *Hearts*

Fact: I get on www.internetbumperstickers.com when I'm bored.

Here, you see the resulting carnage:

Oxymoron #1
Government accountability

Oxymoron #2
Religious tolerance

Oxymoron #3
Political ethics

Quote #1
"Just tell Nemo you couldn't find him because you were getting high.  He'll understand."

Quote #2
"I drank what?"
-- Socrates

Good night, everybody.

The Supreme Court voted 5-4 to repeal the "Knock and Announce" requirement for police.  For a better, more comprehensive summary, click on the lovely link below.

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/06/16/washington/16scotus.html?ex=1308110400&en=f5adf0b4a255928c&ei=5088&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss

They had this sort of thing going on in V for Vendetta.... You know, the fascist totalitarian dictatorship??  Yeah, that one.

Remember, remember,
The fifth of November:
Gunpowder, treason, and plot.
I know of no reason
That gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

Pinball is an excellent form of stress relief.

Particularly if you're envisioning certain heads in place of the ball.

"Send into hyperspace?  Don't mind if I do...."

*Contented Sigh*

{{I'm actually not pissed at anyone, just annoyed at the general idiocy which insisted on presenting itself this afternoon.  Annoyance is better karma than anger.}}

SweetJesusMotherofGod.

There is a CHILD here.  A noisy, BIPOLAR CHILD.

I have already tried to overdose on Aleve once, to no avail.
Now I remember why I leave home during these meetings.

(Explanation: Pony Club meeting, and somebody couldn't get a sitter (I hope).  Pony Club is where hordes of horse people descend upon our house and drive me to the shelter of the upstairs domicile.  These people are scary, as fellow members will attest.  They turn upon their own kind at the slightest provocation, and some are medicated to begin with.)

But I digress.... CHILDREN.  AGH.  POUNDING.  HEADACHE.

So not the June Cleaver sort.... The maternal cooings might be even more offensive to my ears.  "Aww, look!  His first temper tantrum!!"  Me: "You know, we do have duct tape in the garage...."

I just walked downstairs to notify someone of a phone call.
Random Girl: "Do you live here?"
Me: "*Insert Look*  Yes, but not often."

Now really.  Do I live here?  I'm only emerging from random sections of the house to which YOU are not granted access, entirely casual, obviously not part of Pony Club, and asking where Dad is because he has a phone call.  Now, granted, I could be from some parallel dimension and merely temporarily slipped across various spheres of existence, which is entirely likely, but the possibility that I am an agent of Satan here to collect your soul is more probable (then again, she's in middle school, thus probably doesn't have one).  So you tell me.

SweetJesusMotherofGod.

There is a CHILD here.  A noisy, BIPOLAR CHILD.

I have already tried to overdose on Aleve once, to no avail.
Now I remember why I leave home during these meetings.

Oh wait, I already said all that....

I can't even leave, because they have diabolically parked the entire family in on all sides!  IT'S A TRAP!!  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

*Commences hiding in terror*

Funny how one can forget they wrote something....

Will I let myself be roped in once more?
Will I feel the bonds tighten at my neck?
Will I do things which I’ve sworn before
Would never tread on my mind’s deck?

You don’t know how it’s tempting,
To revert for former ways.
Though it really needs confessing –
I was there for barely days.

I feel my knots are tightening,
Straining at my neck and health.
Then, with a lurch, I slowly find:
I tied these knots myself.

-- May 18, 2006

I have fallen madly in love with a human coffee maker.

And discovered my HALO panic mode -- turn rapidly in many circles and shoot whatever's in the way while desperately throwing grenades, without really looking to aim either.  This is typically only employed when a certain someone decides to stalk me.

"Sniping rifles are not good short-range weapons!"  "I don't know how to switch to a pistol!"  "Use the black button!"  "Which black button?!  There are four!!"

"Ooh, I found a toy!"  "That means she either has a sniping rifle or a rocket launcher...."

"I discovered that I'm better at HALO when I'm drunk."  "Dude, that's just sad."

So the perils of washing hot pink shorts with anything other than hot pink shorts have been duly revealed to me.  I used to have a blue-and-white gingham shirt.  Now I have a pink-and-lavendar shirt.  Undaunted, I am taking the opportunity to maim, maul, and completely reconstruct this vestment.  My weapon of choice?  Bleach.  I'm going for the artsy-deconstructed vibe.  Don't judge me.  And maybe writing various profanities in foreign languages with fabric paint.  "What does that mean?"  "Yield to pedestrians."  "Really?"  "No."  The possibilities are quite literally endless, because the poor shirt is already a shadow of its former self, and not so averse to ruin.  Mwahahahaaaaa!

Things just keep on getting better and better.

And yes, that's largely sarcasm.  But I smile, because oftentimes it's all you can do.

:-)

Swing dance tomorrow night!
Otter Creek Church (formerly Living Word Community Church, formerly Brentwood Baptist), on Franklin Road.
Dance lessons 7:30-8:30, with generic dancing until 11:00
$6

As none of you know, I recently went out to Phoenix, AZ, to help my aunt move here.  Well this evening I made my triumphant return, but along the way, I witnessed several remarkable.... Things.  Now, "things" is not the most evocative word, but given the vast amalgam of phenomena which was presented to me during my drive across the greater part of America, it is certainly the most comprehensive.  I recorded most of them faithfully, and present them here for your digestion and entertainment.  Bear in mind that every single one of these were recorded while driving at upwards of 80 mph, so it is not merely a labour of love, but a risking of life for the enjoyment of others.  (Um, that's other peoples' lives.  Very important.)

Byler's Amish Kitchen

Wildfire Danger High
Use Ashtray

Detention Centre -- Do Not Stop For Hitch-Hikers
(At 6:00 am without coffee, this is not the ideal sign to see.  Actually, it's never the ideal sign.  Hit any pedestrian you see.)

Scenic view vending machines

Golden Cobra Kickboxing

Elk Country --
Be Aware

Chain up area

Black Bart's Saloon and Musical Revue

Lone Tree Drive
(It's in the middle of an (actually forested) national forest)

Dinosaur Park This Exit!

Winslow, Arizona
(No, we did not stand on the corner.  We didn't even get on the exit ramp.)

On a scrolling marquee: "(Gas price).... (Cigarette price).... AND TACOS!!"

Second Mesa, This Exit
(There is no First Mesa.)

(Route 66!!)

Got Petrified Wood?

Aunt Katie: "Well, if I'm reading that tree correctly...."

Win A Big Rig!

Mocassins For The Entire Family!

Knife City!  Wholesale!

(The random collection of plaster dinosaur statues on dunes along the freeway.)

Ostrich Eggs!
Meteorites 50% Off!

(A random school bus perched on top of -- no joke -- a cliff.)

Microsurgical Vasectomy Reversal -- Money Back Guarantee!
(And they said everything was bigger in Texas....)

(A 2-headed lizard statue, also on the side of the freeway.)

(A graveyard.  With a grave on the wrong side of the fence.)

(Big random white "S" painted on the mountainside.)

(The Navajo reservation!)

Ortega's Tacos

Blake's Lotaburger

Gusty Winds May Exist

Want A Natural High?  Grant's Has It!

Ice Cave!  Bastera Volcano!

Caution: Dust Storms May Exist

10,000 Video's
(How possessive of them.)

Notice: Do Not Pick Up Hitch-Hikers In This Area
(Again.)

Zero Visibility Possible
(If it's zero visibility, we can't very well see that, can we?)

Albuquerque -- It's A Trip

Flea Market In Louisiana!
(As advertised in New Mexico....)

Albuquerque Next 17 Exits

Caution: Entering Congested Urban Area

(The cement which forms Albuquerque's freeway lamp posts, guard rails, signs, walls, et cetera.... Is all Pepto-pink.  No lie.)

World Pyro Headquarters!

(What appeared to be a giant eggbeater attachment in the middle of a New Mexico field.)

(Falling rock signs have insanely amusing pictures on them.)

(And seeing an 18-wheeler full of onions is always interesting.)

(More signs warning of the perils of high fire risks.)

Billy The Kid Tombstone Race
(Something tells me it's not very fast.)

Big Rig Truck Service!
(The billboard had a pink-and-white theme.)

Enough Is Enough.
Vote Democratic.

Adult xxxSuperstorexxx
(So, is it.... Straightedge?  Hardcore?  Disillusioned emo?  I ceased to ponder this when I realised that, more importantly and ironically (or not so-), the store was conveniently positioned across from a motel.)

In God We Trust.
United We Stand.
(To Lease, Call 864-7935)

And now for some observations:
~ In Arizona, there are plenty of national forests.  You just have to get 45 minutes into it before you see what would pass for a tree.
~ In New Mexico, there are plenty of weigh stations.  They're just all closed.
~ In Texas, there are plenty of rest stops.  They're just all closed.
~ In Arkansas.... Yeah.  No entry for Arkansas.  The Ozarks are still there, like they have been for the past several centuries, so that's always good.
~ In western Tennesee, there are plenty of adult bookstores.  And they're all open.

Mmmmmmm, Americana.  How it pervades our very pores.

People have a curious attachment to their past.

"We know what we are, but we know not what we may be." -- William Shakespeare.

In other news.... Mum and I went apartment-sniping today.  My favourite locale??  Haha.... Chelsea Place, strangely enough the same complex in which I was conceived (I like irony in life).  Even stranger: Building S-8.  I went on to be born on the 8th of November, and my last name is Sullivan.  Oooooo.  More irony.  How delicious.

Observation, by: Dorothy Parker (favourite poet ever)
If I don't drive around the park,
I'm pretty sure to make my mark.
If I'm in bed each night by ten,
I may get back my looks again.
If I abstain from fun and such,
I'll probably amount to much.
But I shall stay the way I am,
Because I do not give a damn.

Comment, also by: Dorothy Parker
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong,
And I am Marie of Roumania.

Mmmm, cast party.... Again, delicious.

It's over.  (High school, that is.)
I feel no regrets.
In fact, "frantic rejoicing" could be an applicable phrase.

Weekend was freakishly busy.

Events included:

• Seeing a friend of contemporary age get married.


• Almost had my first cigarette (allergies prevented this, but I've had a strange itch to try one lately).


• Had a drunken stalker at faire.


• Had a Viking entourage.


• Eaten authentic Viking entourage honey cake-stuff.


• Had a major snafu on the chessboard during our fight.


• Wordlessly convinced cast and audience that I had just sliced my hand open when I grabbed a "sharp" sword blade.


• As a result, felt really guilty when half the world came and asked about the aforementioned hand.


• Slapped a guy with actual intent (so I had no idea that "dragging across the stubble grain" even existed or was painful, but apparently it is).


• Been slapped back.


• Been paid for the first time in MONTHS.


• Learned that a former neighbour died (sad, but we haven't seen each other in a decade, so....)


• Realised several times that "God yes, it's time to leave home."  And not felt particularly bad/scared about that decision.



Major thanks, by the way, to all the cool kids who have come out to the Renaissance faire so far!  It's awesome seeing you guys in the lanes!!  :)

"Now, bring me that horizon...."

Major thanks, by the way, to all the cool kids who have come out to the Renaissance faire so far!  It's awesome seeing you guys in the lanes!!  :)

"Now, bring me that horizon...."

So I made créme brulèe for a French project.  Everything went fairly well.  No mishaps mixing the eggs and sugar, the hot cream didn't scramble said eggs when I poured it in (one.... tedious.... spoonful.... at.... a.... time....), it cooked, it chilled for six hours (during most of which I finally slept, hahaaa).

I sprinkle the brown sugar on it this morning, then put it in the oven under "broil" to caramelise it.  I go upstairs, comb my wet hair, and start to put volumiser in it -- an operation which took roughly 45 seconds total.

Long story short, I caught the oven on fire.

ON FIRE.

FLAAAAMES were shooting out of the oven, the smoke alarm started screaming, I stand there yelling "WHAT SHOULD I DO?!  WHAT SHOULD I DO?!"  And all Mum can think of to say over the din is, "I HOPE THIS DOESN'T WAKE YOUR SISTER!"  (Wtf?)

In a log home, this is not the best chain of events.

And further proof that I need a hired chef once I move out, or at least a husband who is culinarily inclined.  I am domestically challenged to the extreme.

{{BTW -- the custards, aside from resembling petrified hockey pucks, were unharmed and delightfully edible.}}