mortified

Posted on November 29, 2014 by borysSNORC

My mother got drunk last night on champagne. Which is not a frequent occurrence, and quite frankly doesn’t really take a lot of effort… she’s what you would call a one pot screamer. Most of the time when she gets a little tipsy, it is not a big deal – she gets a little loud, laughs a bit more than is warranted at her own silliness and is generally a very happy, cheap drunk.

Last night however we were at a birthday party for a friend of ours whom we have known for about 20 years with all her friends and family here, none of whom had I met before. I mean of the 40+ people moseying about, I knew three. My Mum, the usually happy little drunken camper at some point quite late in the night went for a wander with an extremely chatty, also somewhat tipsy lady named, Gel (or something like that). I thought it was very likely that Mum was going off tell her that smoking is a bad thing – it’s not like my Mum to go hang out with the only smoker in the room… but apparently, their exchange was nothing like that.

Gel came back to the table and said, sat down and said (and I quote), “Your Mum is amazing (very true), and she has been through so much, what with your Dad and all. And I know all about your story too. You’re so strong.”

My ‘story’? An instant feeling of fight or flight rushed through my body.

Apparently in amongst telling this complete stranger about how much she misses my Dad and having a cry on her shoulder, she also told this woman about my infertility problems. OMG. What the actual fuck? So now I’ve got this slightly drunk stranger, who also happens to be infertile, telling me that no one really understands what that is like. Yes, she’s correct – infertility is one of those horrid life experiences that other people don’t really ‘get’ unless they have some personal experiences with it themselves… but did I want to be talking to a complete stranger about my infertility at a party with about ten other people in the conversation – FUCK NO!

I changed the conversation as soon as I was able to and quietly fumed at my happily tipsy mother for the next half hour or so. Mum eventually went to bed and we remained outside chatting for some hours further. At some point Gel turned the conversation to miscarriage (Gel is a midwife… what a perverse career choice for an infertile woman?!) and she turned to me and said, “Miscarriage is another of those things that people who have never been through it totally don’t get it, but people should be allowed to grieve their miscarriages and not just shrug them off as if they were nothing… you (meaning me!) are so lucky to have been surrounded by your Mum and Dad and your sisters and husband when you had your miscarriage in New Zealand. At least you had all that love and support when you went through that.”

WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK DID YOU TELL THIS WOMAN, MOTHER?

So, now I am really pissed. Not only has she told this woman about THE worst experience of my life, but Gel has gotten all the facts completely wrong and I’m just appalled that I am having this conversation (which I haven’t even really had with many of my nearest and dearest, most loved and trusted friends!) with total strangers at a party?!?! I told, her that no, that was not actually correct. That I have had the misfortune to have five miscarriages in total, but by far the worst one was the the one my mother alluded to which did not happen in New Zealand, but rather I was pregnant while in New Zealand and came home to find the foetus had failed to develop and I had to have a D&C. And no, my Mum and Dad were not there, they were overseas. And no, my husband was not there either because his arsehole employers actually threatened to sack him if he took the day off, and accused him of making up the miscarriage ‘story’. And no, my sister (who was sitting right beside me as I was saying this, and had the good grace to look sheepish), was not there because she had a paediatric appointment for her own baby and was too busy with all that to be with me at the hospital. So I spent that entire day staring at the ceiling crying, BY MYSELF, and went through the D&C surgery, BY MYSELF, and after it was over, went home to be BY MYSELF, until my husband eventually got home from work that night.

The Gel woman was just drunk enough to not hear the terseness in my voice, and misunderstood my setting the record straight for some sort of willingness to engage in the conversation further and blathered on some more about how horrible miscarriage is and what ever else… I have no idea. I am just at this point absolutely flummoxed as to how the worst day of my life and the most deeply personal and horrid experience I have ever had to endure had turned into social chit chat between my mother and this appallingly indiscreet woman. Needless to say I left the table very shortly after, and had a great deal of trouble falling asleep – in spite of quite a bit of alcohol, some valium and other pharmaceuticals.

From the Chef: Oysters Kilpatrick

Posted on November 27, 2014 by borysSNORC

Had an unnatural urge for Oysters Kilpatrick yesterday, probably something to do with going to the local tavern for dinner recently and seeing them on the menu, but not being even remotely prepared to pay $26 a dozen, for what was inevitably bound to be disappointing Oysters Kilpatrick.

Yes. Disappointing. You see, once upon a time I dated a lovely young man whose father was a chef and that there was a family who know’d how to make fantastic Oysters Kilpatrick… and every single time I have ever ordered in a restaurant (I don’t care how swanky the place is or how nice their flatware) they’re just plain disappointing somehow. So, I’m stuck making them myself. Which I do every year or so to the Corrie family secret recipe…

Here’s what you’re going to need:

Two dozen Coffin Bay or Sydney Rock oysters – the bigger the better!
Shortcut BACON – lots of it.
BBQ sauce – you can be as fussy or as dodgy with this as you want.
Tomato ketchup – fuck off that nasty tomato sauce stuff though.
Worcestershire sauce – the older the better.
Cream of Horseradish – this is the secret ingredient (don’t tell anyone!).

Here’s what you’ve gotta do:

Step 1:
Take your shortcut bacon and trim any extra fat off it – because we don’t need the extra heart attack to go with our high fructose BBQ sauce. Slice it up fine, until it looks almost shredded and then throw a couple of rough cuts to make the pieces about an inch long. Chuck that shit in a mixing bowl.

Step 2:
Pour a generous amount of BBQ sauce onto the bacony goodness. Poor an almost equally portion of ketchup stuff in too. Splash in some Wussy sauce, and add a glob of Cream of Horseradish… yeah, sorry about that. I have absolutely no idea how much of what goes in where, I just make it based on what it looks like. Taste a dab, if it’s not tangy enough – add more Horseradish; if it’s too tangy – add more BBQ sauce. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Step 3:
Carefully arrange your gorgeous looking oysters into an oven tray leaning them up against each other so the bacony goodness topping doesn’t run all over the place – seriously, I meant it when I said size matters! The bigger the better!

Step 4:
Drop a small dollop of saucy bacon topping onto each oyster – be mindful of the fact that this stuff will spread and your oyster will runneth over, so don’t put too much on each oyster.

Step 5:
Chuck the tray in the oven and cook ’em. Maybe 20 minutes, maybe 25minutes in a moderate oven, depending on how dry you like them – if you like the runny juices in the bottom of your oyster shells… turn it up to 220C and cook them for less time. If you prefer your oysters to be sitting in something still similar to the consistency of sauce then 180C for a bit longer. Cook them until the peaks turn ever so slightly charred looking and the sauce looks like Rotorua darling! (ie: like boiling mud!)

Step 6:
Pull them out, allow them to rest a little (seriously, actually do this – or you’ll burn your damn hand or something when transferring them to a plate or whatever and it’ll allow the sauce to ‘set’ a little), then put them on a bed of fancy rock salt to look all pretty – or failing that, set the whole damn oven tray on the table with some bread and hook in.

Ta-da! All gone!

On Ferguson.

Posted on November 27, 2014 by borysSNORC

Benjamin Watson, a football player for the New Orleans Saints posted his thoughts about Ferguson on his Facebook page, and it has since gone viral. I’ve seen it reposted, and have re-read it, about three times in the last 24 hours… and to be honest, living where I do, the big ol’ mess that is Ferguson, is so far removed from our safe(r) little part of the world that much of what is happening there does not effect us at all. On top of that, being an educated middle class, white chick from the other side of the world means, I can’t possibly hope to ever fully understand the race struggles that have gripped America for generations. So I can’t speak with any authority whatsoever on what is happening there – but I do feel that this is one of the most measured and sensible responses that I have seen from anyone on the topic:

“At some point while I was playing or preparing to play Monday Night Football, the news broke about the Ferguson Decision. After trying to figure out how I felt, I decided to write it down. Here are my thoughts:

I’M ANGRY because the stories of injustice that have been passed down for generations seem to be continuing before our very eyes.

I’M FRUSTRATED, because pop culture, music and movies glorify these types of police citizen altercations and promote an invincible attitude that continues to get young men killed in real life, away from safety movie sets and music studios.

I’M FEARFUL because in the back of my mind I know that although I’m a law abiding citizen I could still be looked upon as a “threat” to those who don’t know me. So I will continue to have to go the extra mile to earn the benefit of the doubt.

I’M EMBARRASSED because the looting, violent protests, and law breaking only confirm, and in the minds of many, validate, the stereotypes and thus the inferior treatment.

I’M SAD, because another young life was lost from his family, the racial divide has widened, a community is in shambles, accusations, insensitivity hurt and hatred are boiling over, and we may never know the truth about what happened that day.

I’M SYMPATHETIC, because I wasn’t there so I don’t know exactly what happened. Maybe Darren Wilson acted within his rights and duty as an officer of the law and killed Michael Brown in self defense like any of us would in the circumstance. Now he has to fear the backlash against himself and his loved ones when he was only doing his job. What a horrible thing to endure. OR maybe he provoked Michael and ignited the series of events that led to him eventually murdering the young man to prove a point.

I’M OFFENDED, because of the insulting comments I’ve seen that are not only insensitive but dismissive to the painful experiences of others.

I’M CONFUSED, because I don’t know why it’s so hard to obey a policeman. You will not win!!! And I don’t know why some policeman abuse their power. Power is a responsibility, not a weapon to brandish and lord over the populace.

I’M INTROSPECTIVE, because sometimes I want to take “our” side without looking at the facts in situations like these. Sometimes I feel like it’s us against them. Sometimes I’m just as prejudiced as people I point fingers at. And that’s not right. How can I look at white skin and make assumptions but not want assumptions made about me? That’s not right.

I’M HOPELESS, because I’ve lived long enough to expect things like this to continue to happen. I’m not surprised and at some point my little children are going to inherit the weight of being a minority and all that it entails.

I’M HOPEFUL, because I know that while we still have race issues in America, we enjoy a much different normal than those of our parents and grandparents. I see it in my personal relationships with teammates, friends and mentors. And it’s a beautiful thing.

I’M ENCOURAGED, because ultimately the problem is not a SKIN problem, it is a SIN problem. SIN is the reason we rebel against authority. SIN is the reason we abuse our authority. SIN is the reason we are racist, prejudiced and lie to cover for our own. SIN is the reason we riot, loot and burn.

BUT I’M ENCOURAGED because God has provided a solution for sin through the his son Jesus and with it, a transformed heart and mind. One that’s capable of looking past the outward and seeing what’s truly important in every human being. The cure for the Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice and Eric Garner tragedies is not education or exposure. It’s the Gospel. So, finally, I’M ENCOURAGED because the Gospel gives mankind hope.”

Here is the link to his Facebook page: http://tinyurl.com/oo9szxv

Reality bites…

Posted on November 26, 2014 by borysSNORC

Earlier generations have weathered recessions, of course; this stall we’re in has the look of something nastier. Social Security and Medicare are going to be diminished, at best. Hours worked are up even as hiring staggers along: Blood from a stone looks to be the normal order of things “going forward,” to borrow the business-speak. Economists are warning that even when the economy recuperates, full employment will be lower and growth will be slower-a sad little rhyme that adds up to something decidedly unpoetic. A majority of Americans say, for the first time ever, that this generation will not be better off than its parents. —New York Magazine

Generation X is sick of your bullshit.

The first generation to do worse than its parents? Please. Been there. Generation X was told that so many times that it can’t even read those words without hearing Winona Ryder’s voice in its heads. Or maybe it’s Ethan Hawke’s. Possibly Bridget Fonda’s. Generation X is getting older, and can’t remember those movies so well anymore. In retrospect, maybe they weren’t very good to begin with.

But Generation X is tired of your sense of entitlement. Generation X also graduated during a recession. It had even shittier jobs, and actually had to pay for its own music. (At least, when music mattered most to it.) Generation X is used to being fucked over. It lost its meager savings in the dot-com bust. Then came George Bush, and 9/11, and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Generation X bore the brunt of all that. And then came the housing crisis. Generation X wasn’t surprised. Generation X kind of expected it.

Generation X is a journeyman.

It didn’t invent hip hop, or punk rock, or even electronica (it’s pretty sure those dudes in Kraftwerk are boomers) but it perfected all of them, and made them its own. It didn’t invent the Web, but it largely built the damn thing. Generation X gave you Google and Twitter and blogging; Run DMC and Radiohead and Nirvana and Notorious B.I.G. Not that it gets any credit. But that’s okay. Generation X is used to being ignored, stuffed between two much larger, much more vocal, demographics.

But whatever! Generation X is self-sufficient. It was a latchkey child. Its parents were too busy fulfilling their own personal ambitions to notice any of its trophies-which were admittedly few and far between because they were only awarded for victories, not participation.

In fairness, Generation X could use a better spokesperson. Barack Obama is just a little too senior to count among its own, and it has debts older than Mark Zuckerberg. Generation X hasn’t had a real voice since Kurt Cobain blew his brains out, Tupac was murdered, Jeff Mangum went crazy, David Foster Wallace hung himself, Jeff Buckley drowned, River Phoenix overdosed, Elliott Smith stabbed himself (twice) in the heart, Axl got fat.

Generation X is beyond all that bullshit now. It quit smoking and doing coke a long time ago. It has blood pressure issues and is heavier than it would like to be. It might still take some ecstasy, if it knew where to get some. But probably not. Generation X has to be up really early tomorrow morning.

Generation X is tired. It’s a parent now, and there’s always so damn much to do. Generation X wishes it had better health insurance and a deeper savings account. It wonders where its 30s went. It wonders if it still has time to catch up.

Right now, Generation X just wants a beer and to be left alone. It just wants to sit here quietly and think for a minute. Can you just do that, okay? It knows that you are so very special and so very numerous, but can you just leave it alone? Just for a little bit? Just long enough to sneak one last fucking cigarette? No?

Whatever. It’s cool.

Generation X is used to disappointments. Generation X knows you didn’t even read the whole thing. It doesn’t want or expect your reblogs; it picked the wrong platform. Generation X should have posted this to LiveJournal.

Republished from Mat Honan’s tumblr.

Dining on Princess Cruise Ships

Posted on November 19, 2014 by borysSNORC

Someone was asking about food on the Princess Cruise ships out of Australia (the Sea Princess, the Dawn Princess and the Sun Princess are sister ships, with very similar layouts, restaurants and dining experiences), and I can’t remember if it was in our little group or on the large Facebook forum, but I thought I’d upload some pictures for people to have a look at… please remember these photos were taken under candlelight, most without flash (so as not to disturb other diners) and therefore the pics are of somewhat dubious quality. The food however – is not!

Fruit carving demonstrations:

Main Dining Room (Florentine) meals:

Duck Carpaccio

Beef Wellington

Beef Tournados with Bernaise Sauce

Veal Scallopini

Atlantic Salmon with Garlic Mash and Dill Butter Sauce

Rib Fillet with Potato Croquettes

Porcini Mushroom Soup

Some pastry thing that I can't remember!

Some yummy pastry thing that I can’t remember!

Kingcrab and Prawn Salad with Papaya

Lamb with Rosemary and Dijon Mustard

Lemon Herb Crusted Catfish

Lobster Tail with Butter Sauce

Kingcrab legs with Drawn butter

Eye Fillet Steak with Red Wine Jus

Everyday Pavlova

Napoleaon Anglais with Kiwi sauce

Baked Alaska 1

Baked Alaska

Cakes and pastries in the Horizon Court:
And if you happen to be on a Christmas Cruise – there is always heaps of beautifully decorated gingerbread houses about.