Pet Peeves, Vol. III
Posted by Sunday on Dec 30, 2009 at 11:39 pm
You know what time it is… That’s right, it’s time for Ye Olde Anger Burger Pet Peeves! Sacré bleu!
- Here is where I rag on some poor unsuspecting, probably kind and generous foodblogger(s) who shall remain unnamed, but are nevertheless morons: those who use the word bakies instead of cookies. Oh yes. I wish I were fucking with you. The term is almost always followed by a sort of down-homey, misspelled tirade ala “if their baked, how come we call then cookies? I call bakies because that what they are!” First of all (oh my god, there goes my blood pressure), a COOKIE is not named for being COOKED. It is a derivative from the Dutch word koekie, which means “little cake.” Secondly (now the heartburn is starting), is the logic flaw: the belief that cookies are baked, not ‘cooked’. But see, all baked items are cooked, but not all cooked items are baked. Oh sweet baby FSM, I’m going to have an aneurysm.
- If you claim anything is “the new bacon” I am giving you fair warning: I will deep fat fry your hand.
- The degradation of the term “soup.” Okay, lemme explain myself. I have long ago lost count of how many times I’d be on Tastespotting or something similar and link to a recipe for “something soup” only to discover it is one of two things: a pile of chunks lightly dressed with broth¹, or a tub of something so thick I’m uncertain if it is served with a knife.² Who knew I was such a prude when it came to soup?
- This isn’t really a pet peeve as much as a disgusting anecdote, but it’s ironic so I’m telling it. So, I was telling my mom about the above pet peeves while we were having lovely cappuccinos at Olympia Coffee cafe in downtown Olympia, and a couple old enough to know better started, well, publicly making out. I mean it. The man appeared to be in his late 30′s or early 40′s, very normal, unremarkable, friendly-looking. And in walks this woman, appears to be around the same age, and she walks over to the man in a kind of weird daze and sits in his lap. Surprised, my mom and I tried to avert our eyes. I mean, look: we’re not opposed to a little public affection. Smooches, hand-holding, it’s all fine. But this was… lurid. And they started to just go totally E all over each other, holding each other’s faces, pressing their faces together, stroking shoulders, chests, arms, legs — basically, in alarm my mother and I looked at the barista working but found him instead averting his eyes. Not that I expected him to do anything, the poor bastard. Anyway, it was seriously uncomfortable and was stopped only by the completion of the woman’s soy latte. Thank fucking god. Lesson: continue to get excellent cappuccinos from Oly Coffee, but bring a loaded water pistol.
¹ Apologies to Miss Swanson for using her as an example, since 99% of the time her soups are of the totally traditional variety, but this one particular recipe and photograph had me laughing pretty hard.
² Of course I’ve lost the example I had for this, but it’s pretty much any lentil or pureed soup anyone has these days – I assure you that most of them can be eaten with a fork.
“Bakies”? WTF?!
I have a list of pet peeves in parenting/crafting/homemaking blogs, but I don’t think I’ll list it. For some reason, I’m really feeling how different my blog is right now. Sure, I’m making shit, but I’m COMPLAINING! And SWEARING! And then I see all the “Oh, what a sweet, sweet morning we all had, nibbling my homemade organic cinnamon rolls by the woodstove listening to Daddy play the guitar while I whipped up two or three more sewing projects” blogs and I feel like a big turd. Dooce is surely a compatriot in tone, but it’s hard to relate to blogging at that level. Anyway, my goal is to carve out my niche as a totally broke, salty, creative mother-blogger. That’s cool, right?
Kate: RIGHT! You stay just as cool as you are woman.
Besides, the world lurvs some complainin’ and bitchin’ and (my fave) swearing. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Salty is good too!
Broke is widespread, yet not fun … le sigh
Kate: I don’t know if you’ve ever read the blog bread & honey, but Alicia totally knows what’s goin’ on as far as the salty, realistic but slightly off-center motherhood thing goes. I think the three of us could have a pretty fucking raucous dinner party together.
As an aside, I think you can do a hell of a lot better than Dooce. I don’t have especially fond feelings for her, sure, but you’re higher skilled writer and I find your lifestyle way more relatable than Dooce’s Today-show-appearances and we-just-bought-our-second-house crap.
HAHA you shouted me out.
i’d like to take this opportunity to publicly state my sheer hatred for the blogger-lady phrase, “right now i’m loving ___”
FUCK I AM JUST SO TIRED OF SEEING IT. “really loving ____. totally loving _____ right now.” OH GOOD JOB ASSHOLE. i’m so glad you’re loving it. EVERYBODY DOES IT, EVEN PEOPLE I LIKE.
food blogger pet peeves:
“it’s winter/summer/spring/fall on a plate!”
“tastes oh-so-good”
oh god i can’t even think of any more because i’ll just get mad.
p.s. my son fucking loves those illustrated burgers on the sidebar.
p.s. whatever i still love dooce and i wish target would sponsor my blog so i could be a fucking millionaire and buy 3 houses TOO.
BTW I THINK IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING THAT THE WORD “BAKIES” IS THE MOST INFURIATING THING I HAVE EVER READ AND IF I EVER HEAR SOMEONE SAY IT IN PERSON I WILL PROBABLY SLAP THEM
Alice: Have you noticed that blogging moms are writing “Oh” all the time, in a really stupid way? Like, “Oh, how sweet it all is”. “Oh” should be reserved for phrases like “Oh, shit!”, “Oh, dude!”, “Oh my fucking God!” or “Oh, damn…”. The whole “I focus on the positive” thing just makes grown women sound like 10 year-old Mormon Girl Scouts. It’s creepy.
dude yes, i fucking hate that shit. “oh, how i love lacy pretty things! oh, how i love taking a dump”
not to be a total creep but i totally had this book directly behind me on the shelf so i pulled it out so i could quote from it- it’s barrel fever by david sedaris, and the story is “after malison”
“Stable is a familiar word to Bethany. Before I turned her on to Malison, Bethany’s writing consisted of florid little sentences beginning with “‘Tis” and “Oftimes,” as if she’d been writing with a fucking quill that she dipped into an inkwell while sitting on an embroidered chair bathed in soft candlelight.”
^ this is what i think of whenever i read that shit.
I would like to raise a flag of defense for women who like to pretend they live in a Jane Austen novel or perhaps (ahem) read I Capture the Castle too many times. But these are not the women Kate is talking about.
Right now I’m loving Vicodin.