OMG guys! guest blogger

Hey Guys! This is Rachel’s better half writing - her sister Molly! I’ve noticed that Rachel hasn’t updated her blog in a long time. I think she needs a bit of inspiration and since I consider myself inspirational, I signed myself up for the job! No, I wasn’t asked to “guest” blog, some people would probably consider this “block hacking” but I find that term to be crass. Anyway, since Rachel and I go way back, I thought I would tell you some Rachel facts, and clear up any Rachel myths…. Actually let’s make this a game. I’ll give you Rachel information and you decide if it’s a Rachel fact or Rachel Myth. I’ll post the answer below the Rachel information.

1. In second grade Rachel’s wardrobe consisted of about three shirts. She didn’t change to a new shirt every day, like most children; rather she would wear each shirt everyday for weeks at a time. I recall one instance where she spilled paint down the front of her outfit. For most kids this meant it was time for a change. Not Rachel! She just turned her shirt backwards, problem solved! She was always a creative child.

A. Rachel Fact! Obviously my mom didn’t like to dress us.

2. Rachel once wrote “Them chickens don’t lay eggs there” as an answer On her 5^th grade math homework.

A. Rachel Fact! If you are thinking it was a word problem about chickens then you are wrong.

3. When Rachel was five she had to go to the bathroom so bad that she plopped right down on the toilet while I was still in the bathroom. Naturally her tiny little bottom was too small for the seat and she got stuck! Carolyn and I were laughing to hard to help her so my mom had to pull her out.

A. Rachel myth! She was at least nine when this happened.

4. Rachel’s hair always looks fabulous!

A. Rachel myth AND Rachel Fact. You may be surprised by the answer to this. I don’t blame you; normally Rachel’s hair is Rockin! But I do recall a time a few years ago when we were vacationing in Californian. We were staying by the beach which meant there was a lot of moisture in the air. This caused Rachel’s hair to poof and frizz. I will always remember her walking into the room with Art Garfunkel hair! It was awesome. Rachel didn’t think so.

5. Rachel likes to dance

A. Rachel fact! I don’t normally see her dancing, but I can tell she is doing it when I hear music blaring from the den. She Dances like Chris Martin, and by that I mean poorly, but she puts it all out there.

Well that’s all the time I’ve got! I know there are tons more Rachel facts out there, so please share any you have! Also, if there is a Rachel mystery you would like cleared up please leave a comment and I’ll see if I can find the Rachel truth.

New Life Plan: I Sell You Something!

THIS IS THE SECOND PART of a two part post. But I finished this part first and I need the attention NOW! The drawing will make sense later.

If you , like me, happen to live in a place that was constructed solely to punish you with its ugly, uninhabitableness, you know that going outside is a daunting chore. Even in those times when the weather is pleasant* and despair has loosened its grip on your bones the gift of vision seems like, well, a burden!

Friends, I tell you no more! What if I told you that you could step out
side without bracing yourself against the harshness of light and perception? What if I told you that you could...oh I don't know, enjoy going outside? Enjoy the scenery, the ambiance?
Now I know what you're thinking, "But I can't leave, Rachel, this city has already consumed my soul. It owns me, forever!" All you nervous, soul-less Nellies can quit your yarning' because I'm not talking about moving! That's right, friends, I'm talking about enjoying the current city you live in right now. "Impossible!" You must be thinking, "Rachel can't understand the depth of the grotesqueness I call home if she thinks I can enjoy existing here." Hogwash! Let me tell you a little something about myself: I live in Tempe; I know what ugly is.

And that's precisely why I invented this unique, innovative product using technology
- so good folks like yourselves can enjoy bad places.

Introducing:

LifeVision Head Apparel

Complete you Summer Suit with a LifeVision hood! Each hood is guaranteed to fit over most heads therefore blocking out some of the sights and sounds of daily bleakness that surrounds you. But that's not the best part! Every hood is outfitted with an internal picture so the wearer can actually believe he or she is somewhere liveable. Get lost in:

Paris: The City of Love: In this style a very, very romantic drawing of Paris is hand-stapled to the inside of each hood.
Breezy Oceanside: You can almost smell the sea water while gazing into this ocean scene. Or something that smells like dead fish**


Anywhere but Here: These LifeVision hoods are left blank giving you the opportunity to imagine your very own settings! Perhaps that ranting crack addict is the local fruit vendor in a Tuscan Village. That pesky broken glass you're stepping on? Crisp, fallen leaves in a restful, alpine valley. Hear those blaring, ambulance sirens? Of course not, because all you hear is the bells of Notre Dame.With Anywhere But Here hoods, you can LITERALLY pretend to be anywhere better, which is anywhere else. And if you don't have a good imagination? Well, then you can take comfort in knowing the horizon is one less thing you'll have to face today.




*In Tempe, this excludes the months from April through November

Special Story Time: I Get Relevant

I consider myself generally ill-informed, especially in regards to current events and other happenings. I don't stay abreast of news primarily because it requires effort but also because I find events occurring outside my mind confusing and/or depressing. Why not live in Magic Magic Land? I do!

I find maintaining a tenuous grasp on reality make existing more manageable...but there are drawbacks. For example, experiencing shock when discovering the ol' town lake exploded. A week ago.

Majestic dumping of trout circa November

I know I didn't ask, but I still feel like someone ought to have told me since this tragedy is actually relevant to my life, unlike most humanitarian crisis. And I know I'm normally too selfish to care when public parks explode but Tempe Town Lake actually held personal significance to me. Gather round, and I'll tell you about it- Special Story Time!

Special Story Time

There was a time, year(s) ago, when I was not the worldly traveler I am today. I was young,, naive, provincial even. I'd lived in Mesa my entire life and had never even tasted gougeres. So I was naturally excited to move into the ASU dorms in Tempe, literally miles from my birth home. Alas, this move did not prove to be the cultural awakening I longed for. I tried to make the best of dorm life, hilariously quipping to my sister:

"I live in a daycare that smells like pot!"

Despite my saintly tolerance, the crassness occasionally became too much, and I'd find myself heading toward Tempe Town Lake's concrete "shores." Once I reached the cement walls retaining the water, I'd close my eyes, hold my breath and evoked my over-developed power of pretend. I'd pretend to be anywhere with a real lake. Anywhere more sophisticated than Tempe. Like Paris. Or Detroit. (Geography Zing!)

Once I returned from New Zealand, completely cosmopolitan, with a working knowledge of bodies of water I stopped going. I feared this practice might cheapened my memories of actual lakes. And now I'll never know! Sure, I could walk down and watch the alligators eat the dying carp, but it wouldn't be the same.

Don't get me wrong here, I'm glad these misunderstood creatures are finally getting to have some fun. But I do feel my distress and grief over this matter entitle me to some compensation. I feel I'm owed something by the city of Tempe. Like a pet alligator.
I'd name him Petey and we'd be best friends and even better business partners. Like Shaun and Gus!

Drawing done with a Holiday Express pen on Fairfield Inn paper

Oh, the times we'd surely have!

Morally Invincible: What it's like to have a Canadian Friend

I know this might come as a shock, but I sometimes suffer from self-doubt. It's true. Sometimes, I get to worrying that I'm too racist, or too hateful, or not law-abiding enough, et cetera and I get really down on myself.

But then I remember one special thing that reminds me I'm basically more tolerant that anyone else in the world:

I have a Canadian friend.

Yes, that's right- Canadian. And I'm still charitable enough to spend time with her. Lord knows, it's not easy. There are days when I question whether it's even worth it. Days when the her meekness, her bumbling incompetence, and her damn wimpy scarves seem like they're too much to bare. But then I remember Steve Nash and I know I can make it work.
I smile, ignore her accent and gently remind myself that she can never be a natural-born American like me, no matter how hard she tries.

I'm not saying I'm perfect, just morally superior.

The Time for Humility has Ended. I am a Great and Powerful Person.

Weekly Life Plan

I don't know how I'm going to die, but I'm pretty sure my eventual death could have been easily avoided by the use of common sense. To that end, I've always thought I might end up the tragic victim of a suspect cult. My natural weak-minded, unquestioning nature coupled with a crippling inability to make decisions makes me a shoe-in!

....But last night I watched a documentary that changed my mind about cult life forever:

Jarvis didn't dream small; he dared to DREAM BIG. I may not be freakishly lanky but I've got big hair and I can DREAM BIG too!

I'm not going to just join a cult; I'm gonna be a cult leader!

And my cult's gonna be the biggest, bestest cult ever! Know why? KNOW WHY? 'Cause I'm not gonna pretend like it's not a cult. Too many cults make the classic, "rookie cult" mistake of hastily rejecting the "cult label." This gives miserable outsiders the chance to cry outrage over "human rights" and less-dedicated members the chance to feel confused, betrayed or bankrupt. Here come the lawsuits! And there goes your undeserved millions. It's a cultleaders second-greatest fear.

At Do What Rachel Says Farm we won't sugar-coat things. There's a no bullshit policy*. And drugs, lots and lots of drugs.

Yes, the happiness we offer illusory. We're upfront about that. But you won't care unless you resist! And why resist, really. I mean seriously, why? To preserve your individuality? Well I hope you enjoy your doubt-filled autonomy with its scary choices and consequences. Meanwhile your Cultmates™ will spend bliss-filled days literally ecstatic to shell peas for the Righteous Cause.

And anyway, can you prove strenuous, unpaid labor isn't the surest way to achieving serenity? No, no you can't. I'm doing everyone a favor by making me rich! So that's my life plan for bettering the world. This week.

*Initially. Policy may change based on Cultmate™ ranking

Tulie: That's French for F@#King Anger Wafers

YOU want a blog update?

I wanted to impress someone and now my kitchen floor is covered in a thousand sugary shards of frustration and impotence. My fingers and palms are burnt and blistering. I'm dirty but also too tired to shower so it looks like I'm going to stay that way.

The worst part is that I've made tuiles many times with roaring success. Roaring! They were my sophisticated standby and now I have nothing. NOTHING! Not even an alcoholic flatmate to scream at.

Now I'm going to watch clips from Withnail and I (instead of going to bed) and panic about the direction my life is heading.

Making Mole Babies Out of Mountain Hills

When I gained control over the initial blind rage I felt at thought of having to share my Libbie Time™ I was able to see that us* having boyfriend might actually be good for Libbie’s emotional well-being. Not because she’d form a meaningful relationship with another, fully-realized human(Man!) but because she’d finally be allowed to have emotions. One of the demands I make of my friends is that they do not allow themselves to feel. This might seem selfish but it's actually for their own good. Managing the overwhelming enormity and intensity of my emotions requires the skill of at least one superhuman (Libbie) and one barely human (Me). It’s a two person task. If I allowed my friends to feel, even the tiniest bit, the immense weight of our collective feelings would create a black hole of womanly hysteria.

Unless...a man could save us! With a boyfriend, Libbie would have the support of a competent, capable chap she could burden with her lady troubles. Problem solved! EVERYONE GETS TO FEEL!

However, Libbie's last post reminded me that having a boyfriend doesn't necessarily make her life less confusing. So even if I’m not going to stop relying on Libbie to fix the daily chrysies I create for myself, I could at least be clear about when I’m having a meltdown. Here is a graph to clarify when I’m joking and when I NEDD YOOU WRFIGHT THE HELL NOW!!!!!!!!

Can You Explain Kate and Leopold without Using the Phrase “the Devil’s work!”?

I have a summer job! How deliciously plebeian.



I may be middle class enough to be aware of human suffering but I hope the children I buy with my eventual celebrity will never be.

I hope they go to rehab instead of summer camp.

I hope they go their whole lives without ever discovering the taste of tap water. Nothing that is a EXTENSION OF ME should be subjected to Tempe tap water. Actually, no person* should be subjected to Tempe tap water.

*Aw, c’mon guys! Meg Ryan’s not a person! She’s a hellbeast summoned by Satan to entrance movie-goers so they won’t leave in fits of outrage, demanding not only their money back but also a movie industry that doesn’t believe they’re boorish enough to actually enjoy Serious Moonlight.

Would I Tell Everybody If It WASN'T True?

To me, the perfect chocolate chip cookie has a crisp, sturdy exterior covered in wrinkles and crevices. But the inside should be gooey, a molten chocolate mess- almost liquid when hot. The cookie itself should have a taste, buttery and salty, and not be completely overshadowed by the chocolate. They shouldn't be flat but not at all cake-like either. And finally, they should STAY DELICIOUS the next day. Maybe tender instead of crisp but not stale and bland. Which is inevitably what happens to my chocolate chip cookies. Oh, the many times I thought I'd finally achieved perfection only to be betrayed the next day by a box of pretty, tasteless cookies.

And really, I don't think my requirements for The Perfect Chocolate Chip Cookie are unreasonable. They certainly certainly seem achievable, like something that really ought to exist in the real world. But like a cute, mustard yellow, adult-sized corduroy jumper, these cookies seemed to exist only in my mind. WELL NO LONGER! 'Cause I did it, I made perfect ones. True, they're probably unnecessarily fussy and complicated (just like me) but DAMMIT THEY'RE GOOD! They're a combination of my favorite chocolate chip cookies from my former life when I thought perfection was unachievable:
- Libbie's mom posted a wonderful chocolate chip cookie recipe with pulverized oats which taste and look lovely but didn't stay fresh. (For me, 'cause I'm not innately perfect like the Henries- I HAVE TO WORK AT IT!)
-And Jacques Torres's which is French and complicated and perfectly suited for Friday nights when all I want to do is make something that takes hours and listen to glam rock. Plus they're good.
I liked both but neither was absolutely perfect. So I combined them, making the ingredients list longer than the Seine. (Pow! Geography comedy, coming at you!) Honestly, I don't think adding the oats was as important as the size of the cookies. I've always fought my instincts to make recklessly huge cookies but I think the largeness is what allows them to be crispy and crackly on top while still gooey inside. So here it is:

Super Fussy Chocolate Chip Cookies:

• 1 pound unsalted butter
• 1 3/4 cups granulated sugar
• 2 1/4 cups packed light-brown sugar
• 4 large eggs
• 2 cups plus 2 tablespoons cake flour or 4 T cornstarch and 2 c. All purpose flour *
• 2 cups bread flour
• 1 cup pulverized oats
  
• 1 tablespoon salt
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
• about 18 oz. chocolate - the bigger the chunks the better**
  
• pinch of cinnamon (my preference)
  

* in lieu of pastry flour which is what Jacques's recipe calls for. To make cake flour replace 2 T of all purpose flour with cornstarch per cup of all purpose flour.
** I think I used a 12 oz. bag semisweet chocolate chunks and about half a 12 oz. bag of milk chocolate chips. This was my idea of a perfect ratio but I like my cookies chocolatey.

To make:
Cream butter, then sugars, and cinnamon if you're using it. Beat until light yellow and fluffy. Then add eggs one at a time and then vanilla extract (I like to use 1/2 almond extract too). Sift dry ingredients together in a separate bowl and mix on a low speed until just combined. Stir in chocolate. Then chill for as long as possible. I did an hour- you're supposed to wait 36. Then make obscenely huge cookies. Jacques says golf ball sized. Mine weren't quite that big but they still worked. Bake at 350 F for about 12-20 minutes (you'll need to watch them since the time depends on the size). Rejoice! For a long time 'cause this makes a crapload. Probably about 60 4-5 inch cookies. I would have halved it except my girlish brain didn't want to do the math.

Don't Let Reality Happen to YOU!

IT seems that every time I've finally decided to renounce my old ways and finally, finally start anew something miraculous (or close enough) occurs and I am more firmly dedicated to never changing.
I do occasionally wonder if my deification of celebrities is really as proactive/not detrimental to my emotional stability as I tell myself it is. Maybe now that I'm twenty and properly an adult* I ought to start living in the scary real world. A world where NBA stars don't leap out of bed in the morning, high-fiving a dozen orphans and performing a series of complicated aerobatics before gracefully landing on the ground. After all, I don't want to end up a mother-murdering psychopath because I can't remember if the actuality is the clay sculptures of celebrities I made myself or my human family.**
And sometimes I come to another scary conclusion: What if baking, the joy of my soul, my deepest passion, blah blah blah is merely a distraction from the Big Important Plan to do something Very Important and Incredible (and vague!) with my life. What if I never become a famous, famous chef and the billions of people on this planet will never get to know how perfect and amazing I am? What if my True Purpose doesn't even involve being filthy rich? What if it's dirty charity work? But then...something happens and I am reassured.
I might even post the recipe later!

* Kidding! Everyone knows adulthood is a myth!
**The last time I saw Heavenly Creatures the parallels between my life and theirs scared me enough to briefly consider taking down the post-it note halo and angel wings I stuck to my Steve Nash poster. God, I'm sorry Steve! I know You will forgive me, but I'm still sorry!

Proud Non-reader

I know Libbie, I haven't updated in a while. I don't want to give people the impression that I'm not being totally awesome and perfect all the time ('cause I definitely am!). It's just that I'm so, so unfathomably busy achieving at life I don't have time to blog! Hahaha, crazy! I guess I'm just like Kanye: I don't "read" "books" -I'm out there actually experiencing life! Of course I skillfully document all these achievements with my photography. Can you imagine doing things without taking pictures? Talk about Crazy!
Here are some pictures to prove how perfect I am:


God, sometimes I'm so perfect it hurts! It hurts!



I have to go apply for a job now but before I do I'd like to highlight how incredibly EMPLOYABLE I am because I'm not sure that's coming across on this blog. Okay sure, I may not be what you call "traditionally employable" but I work so hard! And I don't even need to be payed in money! Diet coke and table scraps! That's all Rachel needs! Hire me!

Blood Stain Solutions

On principle, I don’t regret things because I believe the ability to experience remorse denotes a weakness of character that prevents us from achieving greatness (because of “responsibility to fellow man” “compassion” blah, blah, whatever) Heck, I’d even go so far as to reckon that the concept of remorse was created by THE GOVERNEMENT to subdued slave-citizens into obeying arbitrary laws such as, “Killing your superiors is an illegal means of career advancement.” Morality is unnatural! Does the might Komodo Dragon feel “remorse” as the crimson streams of glorious blood pour forth from the neck of his freshest slaughter? No he does not! And is he not the truly the mightiest of all lizards, king of the reptile species? Yes he is! Do you not wish to join him in his glorious feasting, unhindered by remorse?

Which brings me to my point: questions. I’d love to know YOUR answer to the above question, but I can’t! Because I’m not talking to you (whoever you are) I’m rocking back and forth, laughing quietly into the dark night. Alone and vulnerable in my apartment. I WISH I KNEW THE ANSWER BUT I DON’T! If only I could ask questions and get feedback by some web-based internet system! Like some sort of “online” poll! Oh polls- that’s where I was going with this! I wish (not regret) I had figured out how to do polls for my New Zealand blog. Cause it would have been totally fun, right? ANSWER NOW!

Hi There

This is Libbie, Rachel's BEST friend, and I'm taking advantage of the fact that Rachel trusts me enough to give me the password to her blogger account so I could make her a blog with a picture of a whipped cream-covered Amy Sedaris in the background.

Sometimes I feel like a bad friend because I encourage her to do things like drop out of school and live in Europe for the rest of her life, but that's only because I know she'll turn out just fine whether or not she has a degree and can get a job. It's also probably because I'm going to find her someone to marry so she'll never have to think of things like "fiscal responsibility" or "the future." Anyway, I'm using this post to make up for all the times I've tried to live vicariously through her at the expense of her future livelihood.

Rachel is sort of hard on herself sometimes, but I want her to know that she is better than anyone else I know, even when she burns things. And I have a theory that the reason she even burned the brisket in the first place on Sunday was because her family wouldn't let her make it the way she wanted to -- with an ethereal plum sauce glaze -- and her subconscious burned the brisket on purpose. So in reality, Rachel meant to burn dinner, because no one makes Rachel do things she doesn't want to do without there being consequences. This sort of willpower is just one of the things that is so great about Rachel, along with her ability to pull off wearing tights under her shorts.

BURNT BRISKET AND TEARS AND ANGER AND SWEARING AND WHY DO I ALWAYS BURN THINGS?

Libbie, why?

Oh no! It's my second post and already I have to begin with an apology: I'm sorry Libbie! You made this blog for me and I haven't posted anything in THREE DAYS which is basically like saying I HATE YOU and DON'T WANT TO BE FRIENDS ANYMORE in the blogging "sphere" Another kind of sphere But nothing could be further from the truth! It's just that I'm trying to decide what to make for dinner tomorrow which is taking even longer than usual since I lost my usual predawn menu planning to sleep! I'm so bad, I know! So until I can decide between flying saucers or fancy plum sauce brisket with stuffed fingerling potatoes and whether or not I should make banana semmifreddo with puff pastry and cramelized bananas for a dessert or peach pie with a gingersnap crust DO YOU SEE WHY I NEED MORE TIME? The absolute WORST PART is that I don't want to think about food since I'm horribly nauseated from watching a Thai nurse rip out her own jaw and then choke on a preserved demon baby! I probably don't need to tell you this but don't recommend this movie:

LIBBIE HENRIE IS THE BEST PERSON IN THE WORLD!
And since she created this blog it is the best in the world.
Here is me:Oh the fun, fun times we will have!
Love you babe!