I Do Things So You Don’t Have To

Look at me
I have a big head

JD and her square head welcome you to the first installment of a brand-new I Do Things feature. From now on, in addition to 2 or 3 insufferably long, wordy posts a week, you will be treated to one delightfully short tidbit. Usually a photo, sometimes a word of advice, or perhaps a catchy little ditty, this short form will invariably entertain, educate, and/or repulse you.

Think of it as I Do Things Light.

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That’s it! The End!

I want candy
I want bacon
I want . . . bleeeuuurggh

Every time I’m at Whole Foods, I see these enticingly packaged toy-sized candy bars. They are so wee. The brand is Vosges, and the label tells me they are “haute chocolate,” which is French for “pay out the ass.”

Intrigued by their size and the bizarre flavor combinations, I decided in the name of science and blogging to BUY and EAT two of these adorable, tiny, expensive candy bars so you don’t have to.

To give you an idea of just how small they are, here’s a picture of the two bars with an average-sized matchbook:

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And here’s Gus checking out one of the bars:

Clearly, Gus does not approve. Look at his ears!

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OK, a slightly blurry view of an unwrapped bar:

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And a straight-on view:

Ridiculous.

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The Barcelona Bar

The label says: “See . . . smell . . . snap . . . taste . . . feel . . . guided tasting notes inside. Deep milk chocolate melts into the mineral and sumptuous taste of sea salt and roasted almonds, reminiscent of Marcona, Spain.”

JD says: Despite all the ellipses, it’s good. It’s very good. The chocolate is rich, and the salty crunch is satisfying, but because the bar is so small and thin, I can’t really taste the difference between the almonds and the salt granules. As for the “guided tasting notes,” um . . . I like chocolate?

I could easily eat about 30 of these, stacked together to form a normal-sized candy bar. But I can barely afford one.

Mo’s Bacon Bar

The label says: “Rub your thumb over the chocolate bar to release the aromas of smoked applewood bacon flirting with deep milk chocolate. Snap off just a tiny piece and place it in your mouth, let the lust of salt and sweet coat your tongue.”

JD says: You can talk about lust all you want, I’m not rubbing my candy bar. I’ll snap off a tiny piece, tho, and voila! Half the bar is gone. I take a bite . . .

Oh, no. No. No, no, no, no. This is all wrong and terrible. There is bacon in my mouth. With chocolate. Who thought this was a good idea? This flavor combination is a sin against God and nature and all things sweet and salty. I guess I was expecting more of a bacon essence, but instead I got a nice-tasting candy bar studded with rubbery hunks of bacon.

I recommend the Barcelona Bar if you’re rich. As for the Bacon Bar, why don’t you just chew on some nice money? It will taste better and cost less. Or, may I direct you to:

JD’s Top 10 Candy Bars

1. Ritter Milk Chocolate with Biscuit
2. Caramello (giant size)
3. Milky Way
4. Wunderbar (Canadian)
5. Crunchie (British)
6. Coffee Crisp (Canadian)
7. 100 Grand
8. Kit Kat
9. Cadbury Dairy Milk Golden Crisp
10. Marathon (discontinued but available as a Curly Wurly)

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If YOU want to eat expensive chocolate

• Spend a little more than $3.50
• Read Candy Addict’s favorable review of Mo’s Bacon Bar
• Chowhounds discuss the best high-end chocolate bar

What’s your favorite chocolate?

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Humor-blogs will eat bacon with ANYthing.

Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea

The dark days are over, my friends. No more will the loyal readers of I Do Things convulse and die upon viewing a seizure-inducing header. No more, I say, will the visitors to this blog gag, froth at the mouth, and fall to the ground, eyes rolling in their heads, limbs twitching in agony. Nay! Now all I Do fans, old and new, will convulse . . . with joy! Yes! There will still be limb-twitching, but not in agony. In joy! For what could be more joyful than JD in a tub? With bubbles?!

Regarding my shiny new header, I can only take credit for being the inspiration (oh, but what an inspiration, right?). The actual concept, design, and finished product are courtesy of the wonderful Eileen Schmidtke, a talented graphic designer referred to me by my friend Jill. Thanks, Jill! And thanks, Eileen, for coming up with a great idea and executing it to perfection. And for putting up with my constant “more hair!” e-mails and other frantic and not-always-realistic demands.

Please check out Eileen’s site, take a look at some of her other magical creations, and contact her for all your graphic design needs. You will not be disappointed.

And now for the poll-taking section of this post. In a previous poll, I asked for brutal honesty regarding the look and layout of my site. Now, I’m asking again. Your opinion is valuable to me, so please answer truthfully. All respondents will remain anonymous, so there’s no need to feel inhibited.

Let the joyful convulsing begin!

Walking down the street
Carrying a baseball bat

So you may remember that I lived in Ireland for a while. Dun Laoghaire, to be exact, which is a suburb of Dublin. I moved there after graduating college to avoid getting a real job. Lesson learned? A real job means benefits, decent pay, and tolerable hours. The places I worked in Ireland were not real jobs.

But this is about the rat.

After trying out several different living venues over my first few weeks, I settled on a bedsit, or, in American, vermin-infested hellhole. With no electricity (this will be important later).

Now, my memory isn’t what it used to be, so lucky for you I kept a journal. Allow me to set the stage with some excerpts:

ESB can’t hook up my electricity till next Thursday?!?!?!?!

I decided to spend some money on decent bed gear—sleeping on a mattress with a towel for a pillow and a coat for a blanket just seems too depressing.

Made £2 in tips tonight.

Luckily Paul gave me a candle, which saved my life.

I built a fire and cooked a grilled cheese over it.

I’m drunk in Ireland at last!

Tim is very nice, but definitely not a prospect.

You might guess where I ended up—yes!—McDonald’s, home of the hangover meal in any country.

After paging through interminable references to eating at McDonald’s, I found the rat incident

Now for the most horrible thing that has ever happened to me in my life.

Remember: one-room flat, no electricity.

I was sound asleep after a hard day waitressing for crap money and rude Irish people who made fun of my accent. A rustling noise woke me up—it was coming from the other end of the room, where I kept a large plastic bag full of smaller bags for garbage. I couldn’t quite tell, but it seemed that the noise was coming from the bag. I sat up in horror. The rustling noise was definitely coming from the bag.

My heart stopped—I was literally frozen with terror!

Looking back, I don’t know why I didn’t run screaming into the night, not stopping until I got back to the US. Instead, I opened the door to the hallway, grabbed the bag, and heaved it out the door. Somehow I managed to go back to sleep, but maybe an hour later, I heard that sound again, coming from the hallway: rustle, rustle, rustle . . . THUMP! What the f-ing hell? I wanted to get up and see what was going on, but I was too scared.

The next morning, the whole incident seemed silly. I was probably dreaming, I told myself in the safety of daylight. This was Ireland, home of rolling green hills and magical faery-people. Nothing bad happens here!

I walked up the half-flight of stairs to the bathroom I shared with the other upper-floor tenants and

found a sign on the door, the words of which I will remember for the rest of my life

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN: There is a very large rat in the bathroom. Perhaps you could use the downstairs loo, until the creature can be dealt with.

Great motherloving Zeus. 

I later talked with the author of the note, and he told me of his encounter with “the creature.” After making a “yea-wide” gesture with his hands to indicate its size was comparable to a small dog, he told me the rat CAME TOWARD HIM rather than running away when he found him in the bathroom. Like, he slammed the door on the rat right before it leapt onto his head and started eating his face.

This vicious dog-sized rat creature was what I had PICKED UP and carried out of my room and into the hallway.

The worst part? I had to go BACK to that rat-infested pit of a room after another day of work. STILL with no electricity. The landlady had put out poison, but that didn’t alleviate my fear and disgust. I stayed awake all night, watching my lousy candle burn down to a waxy puddle.

But at least I haven’t found any dead rats.

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They’re vermin-free at humor blogs!

Gimme the prize, just gimme the prize

Lookit! I received an awesome award from Margie and Edna’s Basement:

Wheeeee! Ain’t it shiny and pretty? It’s called the “Arte y Pico” award, and it is given to bloggers who inspire others with their creative energy and talents in all medias.

When you receive this, it is considered a “special honor.”

And it’s MINE! All miiiiiiiiiiine!

Once you have received this award, you are to pass it on to at least 5 others.

Oh. OK, so I have to share it with a few people. Well, first please visit the sites of my co-winners. Margie and Edna chose some really talented bloggers to share “my” award. Actually, I feel sort of out of place in such fine company, but I’m very flattered.

I admit: I had to look up “arte y pico.” Surprisingly, it has nothing to do with salsa. According to this online Spanish dictionary, arte is “craft,” and the primary meaning for pico is “beak.” Crafty beak! Oh, wait, there’s a “y” in there, so “Craft ‘n beak”? That doesn’t sound right. And when I Googled “arte y pico,” I only found a zillion other blogs who had either granted or received this award.

Maybe I should just shut up and try to accept this award graciously. 

I discovered Margie and Edna’s blog via EntreCard, and I suspect that’s how they found me. I’ve come across lots of great blogs by dropping my Card, so even tho there are many deserving bloggers with whom to share this award, I’m going to focus on some of the blogs I would never have discovered if not for EntreCard.

And the Awards Go To:

• Aerten Art.  I discovered Kelly’s beautiful art and promptly went broke at her Etsy shop. I especially love her collages and watercolors.
• Beetle’s Photos.  I knew Babs (Beetle) had a word blog, but it wasn’t until EntreCard that I discovered her awesome photo blog.
• Daisy the Curly Cat.  OK, OK, I know Daisy has a roomful of awards, but I love her site so much, I can’t not share this award. Daisy, you always make me laugh.
• Sugar and Sweets.  Delectable photos and mouth-watering descriptions. LOOK! They’ve got DONUTS!
• Beadalicious.  Oh, yum. I love to bead, buy beads, look at beads, fondle beads, and say “beads.”

Thanks again to Margie and Edna. Even tho I had to share this award, I am very honored.

Don’t carry me too far away

Am I allowed to call myself quirky? Or is that something only other people can do? It’s sort of like calling yourself classy or complicated. I think we all secretly agree that quirky is good, even tho we may refer to our quirks somewhat disparagingly. Better quirky than eccentric. Better eccentric than weird. Better weird than . . . dead?

Thank you to Susan at My Right Brain for tagging me. Please click here to read her quirky post and the rules for this quirky meme. There are no rules here.

Six Quirky Things About JD

1. I can’t fall asleep if my thumb is touching the rest of my hand. I have to clutch a piece of blanket or pillow to keep them separated. If they touch while I’m asleep, I’ll wake up feeling annoyed.
2. When my brother and I were kids, we enjoyed pantomiming everything my mom said while she was talking on the phone. The fact that it enraged her made it even funnier. She couldn’t interrupt her conversation, so she’d snap her fingers at us so violently it sounded like gunfire. The quirk? We still do it.
3. I feel safer on a plane when it’s taking off or landing. I know: statistically, these are the most dangerous times. But I figure, if you crash closer to the ground, you’ll sustain fewer injuries, right?
4. I enjoy the sensation of eardrops trickling into my ear canal. Brrrr! Just thinking about it makes me shiver with anticip . . . ation.
5. Before washing a plate, it must be rinsed off to the point that it is completely clean. Food particles floating around in the dishwater—especially if I touch one—will make me go into convulsions.
6. I have to use an entire paper towel to pick up one crumb off the floor. I can’t touch the crumb with my fingers. This might somehow be related to #1 and #5. Maybe I suffered a traumatic experience involving crumbs in a waterbed?

Hmmph. These are boring quirks. But I used up all my good material here and here.

Bonus Quirks

1. If a banana has too much of that black seedy stuff in the middle, I simply will not eat it.
2. Standing in front of an elevator makes me feel dizzy.
3. If you rub my kneecaps, it feels like there’s broken glass in there.

If you want to be quirky:

• Your quirky brain
• How quirky are you? (my quirk factor is a disappointing 59%)
• Jam to The Quirks!

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Humor blogs are rife with quirks.