Things what cropped up in my think boxer:
1. Jersey Shore's series premiere on Thursday was EPIC. I have a massive post dedicated to it, of course, and I honestly didn't think this season would be good. "It's jumped the shark," I said to myself. WRONG. I love that "fame" hasn't changed these "people." Oh man, glorious, glorious crazytown.
2. Hoarders last night made me sadface. I think the show likes to have two types of hoarders per episode: those that are truly delusional as to the enormity of their situation and can be redeemed, and those that are self-induced delusional (like, they're lying to themselves about their situation) and prefer to blame other people for the "situation they are in."
First group: Rat Man. Second group: Rabbit Jerk and Cat Lady. The poor guy with the rats. Bless his little broken heart. For those that didn't watch, he essentially had a hoard because he found his wife dying on the side of the road and never dealt with the grief. So he replaced her with a couple of rats. And they spread to 2500. OH. MY. GOD. Yeah, yeah, domesticated rats are great pets, whatever, they were running wild in that guy's house. They had to tear out the walls (the drywall) and expose the studs to get all of the rats. A special collection crew was there from the humane society that specialized in rats (who knew?) and they all did their best to let Rat Man know that they really, honestly were there to rescue them and provide good, safe homes for every single one. You could tell how appreciative he was for their kindness to his "family."
I will say, though, that the sound of those rats eating corn kernels and sunflower seeds sounded like a rain storm. It made my skin crawl. I'm not a rat person, sorry. Flegh. He would scoop out a big swash of feed on the bare floor and they'd come running. Go look at your kitchen right now. And maybe a hallway, too, because he had a big, open space. Imagine every square inch of that floor covered with writhing, gnawing rats, packed so tightly that if you squint it would look like a solid mass of fur. Covering all of the floor. ALL OF THE FLOOR. AHHHH!!!
Dr. Zazio and Matt, my two faves (and the ones they trot out for the extreme of the extreme cases, it seems) were incredibly sympathetic and helpful. Nice to see after last week with the angry hobgoblin that trapped her chickens in buckets of their own filth and didn't see any problems with it. Glen, aka Rat Man, understood that there was a problem, understood that the rats weren't living a "good life" in his house and was ready for them to move on to adoption. That's a nice change from how this usually plays out. And when he was confronted with the reality of the situation - some vets showed him some rats that had been chewed on and needed to be euthanized, gah - you could see a visible shift in his demeanor. He was sad, to be sure. Oh, that man cried! And it was so obviously hard for him to do so, he would try and choke it down, cram it back inside, but good ol' Dr. Zazio with her bad mascara and sweet voice just kept patting him and telling him to grieve.
You could tell that Glen was a man that grew up with an old notion of what made a man. He had that hippie biker thing that is so prevalent in California. Tough, but loved animals. Rough around the edges but loved to sit outside by a beautiful tree. And seeing him sit in that nasty house (he couldn't even live in it anymore, he'd literally turned it over to the rats) with his "friends" running all over him... Well, in a way it was sweet. And then you hear Matt groan in another room and he and a worker are lifting up a "mattress" and you see - I'm not exaggerating - hundreds of rats spilling out of the frame and any sweet moment was just ruined. They were running through the mattress. They had chewed away all of the stuffing material and most of the casing and were just hanging onto the springs like a jungle gym. And this was a king-sized mattress. Chair destroyed, huge nests under the bathtub, in the walls, in the sinks, under cabinets, in dressers, rats, rats everywhere, and not a trap to CHINK!
That wasn't Nimh, is what I'm saying. I kept thinking of all of the rat stories Stephen King has written over the years, the tangles of tails, the blind eyes the deeper into that mill the workers climbed. GAH. I'm sure there are people that love rats as pets. I am not one of them. And I'm not interested in hearing about their virtues. Watch how many people will comment with how they love rats, not even bothering to read this sentence. Lol.
Just... POOP. Poop and dead animals and chewed up civilization and gah, no me gusta, folks. The show ended with a bit about Glen having one rat left out of the 2500 that were removed, and he'd found an additional 350 in the walls after the teams left. He's going to be finding rats for years, I bet. Or that house should just be razed. He's in therapy that focuses on grief counseling, so he seems to be the kind that is going to get much better, especially if he sticks with therapy.
Hoo boy. That was the season finale, and I have to say I'm glad. I need a reprieve. But Beyond Scared Straight starts up, and man, I love a good "Oh you think you're hard? Lemme show you what prison is really like, DJ Trevor," story. WHEE! Suburban white kids that think they're gangsta being confronted with Crips from Compton. WELCOME TO HELL, POPULATION: YOU.
3. Not making me sadface is this HILARIOUS recipe from Paula Deen. (Seen on The Daily What.) Even funnier, comments like this:
My kids were getting pretty tired of plain old veggies for dinner, so I thought I'd give this one a try. Delicioso! Even my picky toddler gobbled it up. I made a couple of substitutions. I was out of butter, so I used Cheez Whiz. And my husband absolutely hates peas, so I used a bag of Doritos instead (Tacos at Midnight flavor.) What a hit! Thanks, Paula!
I put the two cans of peas in the pot, but I found the metal can was really difficult to chew through. Did I not use enough butter?
Due to a power outage, I threw the cans of peas into the fireplace. They exploded before I could butter the outsides.
This reminds me of when I used to eat with my Aunt and Uncle back in my home town. She'd open a can of k'luth, which is Bachi for peas. Some times we wouldn't know what we would get because we lost our translator droid during the previous harvest.(Shaking and crying, you guys. Shaking and crying. Serious, Aunt Beru was a crappy cook. She couldn't even use the hydrolator without burning down the moisture collectors.)
Seriously, the more I read, the harder I laughed. As handsomespeck says, I laughed so hard it felt like I'd been kicked in the chest. Almost funnier than that, are the "recipes similar to this" on the side bar. Recipes just like her "Butter + canned peas = English peas" recipe include "Seared Wild Striped Bass with Sauteed Spring Vegetables" and "Sea Scallops with Thai Scented Pea Puree." Really. Really? That's just like butter + CANNED peas, heat 'em and eat 'em? Hilarious. I kind of think Food TV is trolling her a bit.
*massive exhale* I seriously had to wipe tears from my face. I love it when people are purposely ridiculous. Yay humor! Speaking of, I need to finish up this write up of Jersey Shore and the people that don't realize they're ridiculous. (I MEAN, THE SEV* IS HANGING WITH PAULY D NOW. Be honest, you totally want to grudge hump him. Is that just me? I've got paint thinner to remove any "tan" that might rub off on me, though. I'm a planner.)
[ETA Ack, my Brisbanite mates! I'm so sorry for the horrendous flooding. We're just getting some video here in the states, and it's just horrendous. STAY HIGH, STAY DRY.