Kitties eat, Mildmay rushes out to the porch, Zonker eats a bit more, then disappears.

Five minutes of relative calm ensues.

As I prepare to flip the first pancake, Zonker shows up just outside the kitchen, her eyes as big as dinner plates.

Zonker: WAOW
Me, startled: What?!
Zonker, in a more normal tone: Yow-mow-wow. Snarg. Ow-wow.
Me: What is the matter? You’ve been fed. I’ve said nice things to you. What more could a kitty possibly want?
Zonker: TO DESTROY ALL THE THINGS

She then attacks my computer chair as if it has insulted her heritage.

Zonker: YARG-YOW-MOW. WAAAH!

From the porch, faintly –
Mildmay: SQUIRREL!!! SQUIRREL SQUIRREL SQUIRREL!!!!!!!
Squirrel: !!!!! !!@#*&%!!!
Mildmay: *claw rip shred*
Porch screen: AAAIIEEEEE!!!

Me: GET OFF THE SCREEN!!!!
Zonker, racing off to parts unknown: AAUUGHHhhhhh!!!

Me: Maybe if I stopped feeding them …

So I did a little baking this morning, and at one point I espied the carton of eggs still sitting on the counter, and thought to myself, “You need to put those away before they get the salmonelli.” Yes, I pronounced it “salmonelli” in my head.

Which then led to a chorus of little mousie voices, chanting, “Start the poopin’, Salmonelli, make her yark, Salmonelli!”

Disney films would be lot more interesting with my brain in charge.

But also, if you’re a fan of Frank Kelly Freas. Director Jared Hess contacted Mr. Freas’ widow, and got permission to use several of his artworks as faux book cover/opening credits. Art of the Title has a great article on the creation of the title sequence here.

This film also contains possibly the best, most crude insult line ever.

But wait — it gets worse. Did you know that, less than two blocks away from the former site of the Alfred P. Murrah building in Oklahoma City, there sits a Catholic church? I’m sure Catholic terrorist Timothy McVeigh is laughing his ass off in hell over that one! I mean, that’s just a slap in the face to the people of Oklahoma City.

SOMETHING SHOULD BE DONE.

My manager wanted to display these dolls in the main shop window, but didn’t want them naked, so he directed one of the clerks to make a sign informing the public that these were full-featured dolls. The sign read, “Biologically Correct.”

I had to spend several minutes explaining to both clerk and manager that the phrase they wanted was actually “Anatomically Correct,” or, as I oh-so-patiently put it, “we’ll be arrested for selling live babies in the window.”

I was put in charge of sign-making shortly after that.

Candidate: Hi. I’m Candidate, and if you elect me, I will cure cancer. My opponent, Opponent, roasts and eats puppies.

Voiceover: To sum up — Candidate cures cancer. Opponent? Puppy briquettes.

It was a little depressing.

But it’s hard to watch this and not be in a good mood, so have some random Thursday Mambo!

from CinemaBlend.com: 16 Actors Better As Second Bananas

from The AV Club: “… and Kevin Costner as ‘The Corpse.’” 14 cases of actors getting cut entirely from notable films.

I’ve attempted biscuits a few times since, with more or less unspectacular results. A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with my mother, in which I lamented yet again my failure to make an excellent biscuit. I asked her again (for like the millionth time) what her (and her mother before her) secret was.

With infinite patience, she explained to me (for like the millionth time) that she never used a recipe, that she just threw flour, shortening, baking powder, salt and soda in a bowl, finger-mashed it until it was crumbly and then poured in some buttermilk and squished it around ’til it looked right. Then she pulled off bits of dough, slapped them into little balls, and put them in an oiled pie plate and baked them. They came out perfectly every time.

Reader, I despaired. I am simply not that intuitive a cook.

Earlier today, I was farting around online, and found this here recipe for buttermilk biscuits. A few problems presented themselves immediately. I do not have a food processor, I do not have any double-acting baking powder, and I do not have any nonstick cooking spray.

It occurred to me that my grandmother did not have any of these things either.

What I did have was White Lily self-rising flour, regular baking powder, and determination, coupled with my mom’s process. I ignored most of the recipe, except for the basic ingredient list, and did what my mama told me.

The result? The lightest, fluffiest, most tender biscuits I have ever made from scratch in my life. They tasted just like my mother’s. I almost cried, I was so happy.

The lesson I am taking from this is to ALWAYS LISTEN TO YOUR MAMA.