Baked, these oatmeal chocolate chip cookies are perfectly crisp around the edges and chewy inside. But because there is no egg in the recipe, they are also a great cookie to eat straight from the bowl.
1 cup butter or margarine
3/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 1/2 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 cup boiling water
2 cup quick-cooking rolled oats
2 cups chocolate chips
Cream butter and sugars and vanilla. Stir in flour and salt. Dissolve baking soda in water. Stir into other ingredients. Stir in oats and chocolate chips. Drop onto cookie sheets. Bake at 350 F for 10 to 12 minutes. Eat as many as you can.
On the bathroom door, someone has written on the wall in a red sharpie: rock and roll can save lives. She always suspected as much.
No spoilers here; I’ve only seen the trailer.
That Kevin Dillon is in Poseidon is so meta it hurts. Because it is exactly the kind of popcorn blockbuster Johnny Drama would kill for. And he wouldn’t even care that he’s dead in the first twenty minutes because he got to do a scene with Kurt Russell — fuckin’ Snake Plissken, man.
My iPod is full. 4228 songs is all it can handle. But there is always new music, so something’s gotta go. First on the shuffle chopping block: The Secret Machines “Road leads where it’s lead”
I have to wonder if “lead” is a typo. He sings it like it’s supposed to be “led.” Is that my typo, the band’s, or are they referring to the metal?
The strength of this song is the one-line chorus: “blowing all the other kids away.” It’s repetitive, anthemic, and sweetly melodic, too, when the singer takes it up into falsetto. The Secret Machines blend a 70s grunge tone with a vaguely electronic backbeat and that aforementioned sweetly melodic lead vocal. Unknown whether the band is British or simply wish to be.
Conclusion: stays on the iPod.
The four reasons why we write, according to George Orwell:
> sheer egoism
> aesthetic enthusiasm
> historical impulse
> political purpose
Why I write by George Orwell
Finished: May 04, 2006
There is a family of bunnies living on campus. The smallest one could fit on my palm if one could catch a wild bunny who has spent their life avoiding college students. The bigger one could be a mom or a dad. They live in the bush that surrounds the Fishbowl. They survive, like the rest of us, on whole wheat pizza crusts and the dregs of double shot mochas.
> I’ve started a new notebook, which means letting go of the good lines and exchanges that aren’t going anywhere. It’s not even that they aren’t going anywhere, but if they’re in the old notebook, they get lost, and I have to go find them.
> It’s getting to be that time when I start thinking about short hair, so I get someone to cut it all off, then spend the rest of the year growing it back so I can put my hair up in a ponytail and not have to deal with it.
> Man, The West Wing was disappointing. Who’s gonna explain to Josh that Amy was doing the job he left Sam to do?
> George Orwell believes we all write for four reasons: sheer egoism, aesthetic enthusiasm, historical impulse, and political purpose. What are you writing for today?