I've never met a guy so pride-slighted from a gentle rejection. Gentle Rejection (n) the lavender-infused dismissing or refusing of a proposal or idea, wrapped in a snuggie and tied with an apology ribbon. Sure, rejection isn't easy on anyone. Have you read my blog? There's been approximately 349 times I've been rejected, then again probably have dished out 50 or so...okay, fine. 100 rejections. But each time, I feel you have the opportunity to be more and more empathetic, while conveying concisely your true feelings in the matter. This rejection is specially in reference to the double date guy from the 80's party. The percentages of double dates working out for both parties are probably that of becoming an Olympic Underwater Basket-weaver. Grandma Milly may love your sweetwater baskets, but gold medals have an impossible exchange rate. In this situation, his friend locked in a 2nd date with his counterpart but with me.... well, he set himself up not to. Quick recap: he was the neon headband wearing hottie who called me out in the club for dating more than one guy at a time. He said something to the effect of, "If you're not going to just date me, then you're not going to date me at all." Valid point. I see his priorities and appreciate them BUT I don't even know him that well AND am not in a state of mind, intoxication (just kidding), or place where I wish to clear the bench for him. He gave off a certain vibe that nudged me to "keep looking." So, fast forward to the night my bestie was having her guy from the double over... I was having a bum night and didn't have anyone over, nor did I wish to be sharing that night with anyone. So, minding my own business as I was, I received a text from electric headband: "Have fun on your date a hole." I don't think I was even called an a hole in middle school. baha. Also, assumptions are cute... I actually was home alone in my bed eating homemade brownies, THANK YOU. ....What can I say? It's a sure way to not be disappointed. He claimed it was just an excuse and never talked to me again. I was pretty distraught. ;)) Ohhhh sarcasm, my one true love. Okay, so he's not crazy, but this is hysterical! Never bored with bored games ;)) I'm sure he's onto dating other cute girls so give me a break dude!Kit-Kat S'mores Bars INGREDIENTS: • 1 stick unsalted butter • 1/2 cup granulated sugar • 1 large egg • 1 teaspoon vanilla • 5 full sheets graham crackers, crushed • 3/4 cup all purpose flour • 1/4 teaspoon salt • 1 teaspoon baking powder • 16 miniature Kit-Kat bars, crushed • 1 1/2 cups mini marshmallows DIRECTIONS:Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Generously coat an 8-inch square baking pan with nonstick cooking spray. In a large bowl, with an electric mixer, beat the sugar and butter together until smooth and creamy. Add in the egg and vanilla until incorporated. Add in the graham crackers, flour, salt, and baking powered until combined. (Dough will be sticky.) Coat the back of a spatula with nonstick spray; spread half of the dough into the pan evenly. Sprinkle the Kit-Kat pieces over the dough, followed by the marshmallows. Flatten pieces of the remaining dough and place them on top of the marshmallows. Baked for about 30 minutes http://www.inkatrinaskitchen.com/kit-kat-smores-bars/ No smore!
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I will forever stand by the fact that dating other people teaches you internally so much about yourself. Teaches you about desires, both surface ones and concealed ones that only your subconscious is aware, teaches you about perspective and how you see people in the world, and introspective, how other people might see you and if that needs to be altered by taking responsibility on your own. This guy certainly revealed a shade of me by his actions that made me furrow an eyebrow. I'm not necessarily saying it changed my actions... But it definitely changed my perception and at least makes me think twice before saying certain things to craft a certain conclusion. Why so vague Stephanie? Just come out and say it! All right, all right. This guy.... I can't quite remember what he did for work-- it was something important. Fairly intelligent and has a house which he rents out the other rooms. So, financially-wise as well. He was sweet and had rich New York accent. I could have sworn it was from Jersey, but making a statement like that is declaration of war to a New Yooooorker. He was nice enough, was intrigued by my aspirations, and found my humor enticing. He was adventurous in the party life, but said he's pretty tame now, which I knew meant drugs, but I wasn't touching that topic with a ten-foot pole. I mean.... I'm addicted to chocolate so.... I guess that's a drug too. But Godiva and Lindt are still legal so.... anyway. It took at least 12 and a half minutes to get a waitress. Not exaggerating. Once we did, we ordered waters and two vodka sodas with limes, my go-to, even though he was the one that ordered it. He instantly received a point for that. It took so long to get those, that by the next time he saw the waitress, he ordered six vodka sodas for the table. She was baffled and didn't try to hide it, while I cracked up. As she dropped them off, I could feel pairs of eyes judging the table. He tanked 4 of the glasses like it was Gatorade after a race. Slightly impressed, but slightly aware of the impression that was leaving to complete strangers, but also to a girl he's allegedly trying to court, I sat soaking it in, taking mental notes. Don't get me wrong, I had two of those six, but still, that has to be the first at a first date that someone has taken that many in such a short period of time. Conversation continued and I couldn't help but think of how one guy I talked to, in rage of my rejection, labeled me a closet alcoholic. Obviously, this brought up thoughts of this guy... And not only the image he poses, but the one I posed. I never withhold the amount of alcohol I consume. It's one of my hobbies and things I enjoy engaging in. I don't feel it needs any justification... But, the image of this many drinks at a table for two, was definitely a mind stopper. My date was not even buzzed... Which means two things:
We could be the blackout babes LOL just kidding. I had plans with my best friend that night, so he walked me to my car after closing down happy hour. He pressed me against the car and made out with me so hard that I I was afraid my window was going to pop. I can just see it now: police report in Shem Creek parking lot, do not leave valuables in car because a window was popped last night. There are no details if anything was stolen. Contact police with any information. The report should read: do not leave valuables on car. I smiled it off and managed to slip into my car. The next day, he tried to invite himself to brunch. I'm half surprised he didn't show up since on Snapchat I had posted the filter of where we were at. I didn't I think that would be a problem.... but now, I'm a little more cautious about that. He didn't. And slowly kind of phased him out. He invited me to go to a concert and to let him know when I bought my ticket... I thought, yeah, I'm not going. Don't get me wrong, he's not a bad guy.... I just think I'm looking for something and I could quickly tell he wasn't it. I actually shy away from guys that don't drink, so it's not that I was holding that against him. I don't know what the hell he was holding against me LOL probably a crowbar, but my window is still intact... in case you're wondering. This tart interaction calls for lime bars. I managed to sneak some of the lines from our vodka soda drinks and that's really all I needed. Can you believe I didn't even have to go to the store? Guess that shows we were up to our elbows in garnish.INGREDIENTS
DIRECTIONS
She falls with as much grace as ancient Greece
For warm propositions instead of a bit of fleece For a shallow smile, oblivious to the wandering eye For fictitious proclamations like, "I'm a new breed of guy" For dreams on embarking on a getaway together For the excuse that he was just under the weather For intellect etched in Scholars editions For musical talent with a Beatles rendition For temptation of another shot of whiskey For the sweet, "you're only one that gets me" For the desire to be held instead of held onto For the manipulation, desperate for someone to belong to For the hypnotic hint at lasting forever For the cool contact he'll inevitably sever For the humor he gets so well For the stories he's enthralled just how she'll tell For the worth he pretends she does possess For the villain he paints her- now she'll obsess For the friends that never know the whole truth For those that accept surface- no qualities of a sleuth For the shallow snakes wrapped in genuine skin For the ones eager to emotionally welcome her in For the vulnerabilities he honestly presents For the trust relinquished and herself she resents She falls with as much grace as ancient Greece And helplessly wonders if she'll ever retreat. He couldn't get them straight, even with the spreadsheets and the alibis.
The one in Charleston had a dreamer's heart with not much of monetary value, but her words offered things money never could. Writing not always when she should, he wrote her off: "surely, she's a stepping stone." The one in Chicago has never tried distance before and didn't think it very wise. Yet she travelled and he was with it. She was quick with wit and physically appealing, but he knew others would be attention stealing. There's the one not very far from him, at least in terms of states. Tallahassee from Orlando, she's certainly worth the wait. But she only calls him when she's inebriated, of which he doesn't really mind; unmistakably, she's not the girlfriend kind. The one in Myrtle Beach, however is something that caught him by surprise. She is certainly more experienced in life but beautifully kissed by the sun. Not to mention, she is drawn to him like a sketch artist in the deepest shade of flattery. He was a sucker for an artist in San Marcus to paint her Texas sky- of which she shared with him through Skype and snap, because she believes he's a stand-up guy. Then there's the one in his zip code whom beckons him once a week to join her for exclusive events: helicopter rides, boat tours, and brewery grand openings. A fluid conversation and quick test of their liver, but they both know they're eating each other's time, while eating spicy volcano rolls accompanied by edamame. But he's not exclusive with one, so he feels he did nothing wrong. Except for the hearts starting to grow fond of him, he's stringing them along. For, we all know how the story ends, he'll pick the wrong one. But how can he win if he doesn't play? So he'll continue on. Although dressed like a far-fetched fairy tale, this was tale was non-fiction and a recent event. This particular event was not a Kodac moment, so there is no digital proof of it living and breathing on my phone or the internet, but there are a series of pictures of the three little girls pigs in the story. Not to disappoint with the theme of my dating-blunder stuffed blog, drizzled with "wtf" and dusted with "baha I thought MY dating stories were bad," the third little pig was mine in this story. I'm not even going to entertain the lie that he talked to me in the hopes of me falling into the strangely specific type of "women that used to be men." That's a new one, that's a new one. I'm a lot of things but a prior dude is NOT one of them ;) This story goes in the same bin as the bi-guy who wasn't actually bi. In case you were wondering, I'm still as single as a Pringle at the bottom of the can. Dessert Pigs in a Blanket!
Since the three little female pigs deserve a little sweetness in their exceedingly disappointing interaction with three Irish brothers, here is a revamped version of the elementary dish: Pigs in a Blanket.
The best time to hit on a guy is from the back seat of his car. More specifically, when he is driving you and your friend in an uncanny inebriated state home. Uber is a perfect platform for a date proposal. After texting him the entire next day, he asked me on a date to a quaint little town with a string of restaurants. Quite frankly, I did not remember the specifics of his appearance, because it was dark and I was in the back seat of his car... Not a scandalous as it sounds (insert whistle here). So essentially I was waiting for a blind date. Cars came and went of attractive and not-so attractive old not-so legal men, but none made eye contact with me. After waiting what felt like 6 months, a 5'8" slightly stout gentleman shuffled his way toward me. Painting on the smile mother taught me in etiquette, I greeted him properly.... With a high-five and sprint for the hills. Just kidding. So, we walked the Main Street of the quaint little town, and settled into the tequila bar for tacos and, you guessed it, tequila. He glowed with conversation about his ex-wife named Stephanie and the death of his grandmother throughout the course of our dinner. I may have interjected a couple times, but aside from that, it was his date. After finishing at this place, we walked around for dessert and then meandered to our cars. Well, I should say to his car. That's right, I walked him to his car and he kissed me awkwardly, got in, and drove away. Where the hell is chivalry? What planet is it acceptable for and a girl to walk a guy to his car and then she has to proceed to hers alone? I guess I'll never know because there was definitely not a second date. The moral of the story is: do not give your phone number to guys from the backseat of their car. Oh, and intoxication only makes it worse. I know, I know- that's breaking news. In the wrong lane for loveI'm not very fond of raisins-- then again, I'm not very fond of this guy. An absence of chivalry results in an absence of me. Since he is always on the road for Uber (this is his sole job), I found the title of this cake very suiting. Also, since it was abysmal, I found it very helpful that within the walls of it's sweetness is my dear friend, bourbon.
Alabama Lane Cake: 6 large egg yolks 1 cup milk 2 1/4 teaspoons vanilla 1 1/2 cups sugar 3 cups sifted cake flour 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon baking powder 3/4 teaspoon salt 1 1/2 sticks of butter, softened Preheat oven to 350 degrees.In a mixing bowl, combine the egg yolks, 1/4 cup of the milk, and vanilla. In a separate mixing bowl, combine the dry ingredients and mix for 30 seconds on low speed. Add the softened butter and remaining milk. Mix on low speed until moist, and increase to medium speed (high for hand-held mixers) for 1 1/2 minutes. Scrape down the sides and begin adding the egg mixture gradually, in small batches, beating after each addition for 15-20 seconds. Pour the batter into two greased and floured 8” or 9” round cake pans until half full each. Bake for 30 minutes For the filling: 12 egg yolks 1 1/2 cups sugar 3/4 cup butter 1 1/2 cup raisins 1 1/2 cup chopped pecans 1 1/2 grated coconut 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract 1/2 cup bourbon Melt the butter. In a saucepan, stir together the egg yolks and the sugar until blended and then stir in the melted butter. Stir the mixture until thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. Stir in the pecans, raisins, and coconut, then the vanilla and bourbon. Allow the mixture to cool a little before filling the frosting the cake with the mixture. RESOURCE: http://journal.alabamachanin.com/2014/03/history-lane-drive-cake/ Reason #43 of why traveling is a way of life |
AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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