Peanut Butter Oil and Cigar Balsamic Vinegar.

This weekend in Richmond I was on an episode of Crank Yankers, I took pictures in a museum after strictly being warned not to, and I drank a cup of fat. As usual, my awesome life twisted and turned right along with my stomach and my perfectly unusual nose.

Now, I left the choice of hotel up to Erik because if you were going to ask ME to pick a hotel I would not pick a hotel. What I WOULD do is pick a bed and breakfast which often costs way more than a hotel plus dogs. Sometimes I also pick hotels way outside my price range and then sit at the bar waiting to have a conversation with a total stranger about how hard it is to get good help. I really couldn't afford to do either of the latter because I'm poor yet highfalutin although if you're actually highfalutin for real then you should know how to spell highfalutin without spell check. That's all I have to say about that particular topic.

On another tangent I also have to say that there is a difference between a HOTEL and a MOTEL and we stayed at a MOTEL. This motel, which was a Comfort Inn, is in a part of town that is not exactly desirable albeit interesting in an urban mosaic type of way. It was $69 a night and I thought the lobby looked nice. But of course I reviewed it all on Yelp so there's not much more to say except that I had a slight Stephen King narrative in my head the entire time and getting locked out and the elevator sticking may have encouraged that particular brand of potential writing creativity, although I didn't write but had a few PG-13 dreams about a creepy guy at work which was possibly worse than an actual Room 1408 type of inspired story.

What I really wanted to do today was follow up about another preparatory blog I had written about The Olive Oil Taproom.

The Olive Oil Taproom is located in the Towne Center Shopping Center off of 250 in Richmond and is open every day with the exception of Monday.  We visited around 11 AM on Saturday and I learned a few nuggets of wisdom concerning olive oil:

1. If it's in a clear container, it ain't right. Olive oil, like hydrogen peroxide and beer need a dark bottle.

2. If it's dated "best buy" you best leave it alone. You go by the press date and know you've got a year and a half or two years maximum until it gets rancid.

3. Buy oils that don't claim product of more than one vicinity.

I personally had a ball. There are so many variations of olive oils and, like wine tasting, I was able to project my crazy taste buds into the flavors of, not only oils, but also balsamic vinegars. The pineapple was reminiscent of cigar and the lime was bit like licking a table after wiping it down with lemon Pledge.

However, on a serious note, I would have to direct you to the butternut squash oil. As an individual familiar with nut allergies, this oil smelled and tasted like peanut butter. What a wonderful opportunity for someone allergic to nuts! I bought a bottle for a friends whose children are allergic to nuts. You could combine the oil with an ice cream base to make a peanut butter dessert or even possibly fudge or another confection!

The Olive Oil Tasting Room was definitely a highlight of my weekend being that I am a foodie. I will be back to buy Christmas presents so that I can play a greasy kind of Italian Santa this year for all my Screw Crew associates.

Emerson Creek

When I was younger, I used to wander through Toys R Us wondering how adults could ignore the bliss of dolls, play sets, and games. Since I've become an adult (technically) I've realized you don't discard the old toys as much as you start to prefer new ones.

One of the items I cannot resist are dishes. The more artistic, the better. You're probably aware I like to cook and entertain, and what better way to flare your way into the hearts of foodies than than to serve up their risotto on local pottery?

Oxide Pottery offers some of the more unique selections, while All Fired Up allows you to create your own one-of-a-kind dish or bowl. However, my favorite place to purchase dinnerware in the area is Emerson Creek Pottery.

Located in Bedford, Virginia, Emerson Creek Pottery. The almost 200-year-old building houses 10 lines of ceramic pottery along with my favorite dining room accessories: tea pots for afternoon teas, shortbread pans for your tea biscuits, honey pots, dip coolers, cookie stamps, apple bakers--the list goes on.

You can stop reading now if pottery bores you. It excites me because it's the foyer into a lovely evening of entertainment and true dedication to hosting and serving.

Ok, I'd like to start with their patterns. The enduring Field of Iris design remains a classic and is an inspiration for a spring brunch littered with periwinkle blooms and Japanese cuisine.

Their local collection is my personal preference. Summer Peaks, Smith Mountain Lake, and my all time favorite--Blue Crab--are all reflective of our beloved Commonwealth. I would love to indulge in a seafood luncheon with this whimsical set of dishes:

Emerson Creek also makes plates for baby and personalized gifts. 

If you like, we can get to my favorites. I own a shortbread pan (it comes with the recipe), a tea pot, holiday cookie presses, and an oval serving tray. I love all my pieces, but I can't wait to get more to add to my collection.

There are so many more items on my wish list including the dip cooler, trivets, onion soup crocks, cookie jars and drizzle bottles.

Emerson Creek is the kind of company that makes you fall in love with the idea of tea parties, iced tea on the porch in May, and hosting cozy, intimate gatherings. 

 

 

Pendants with a Purpose

Many of you know I have partnered with and for many local businesses to support their products. Last year, we met Linwood Hoffman of DarkWater Jewelry. My friend Caren and I made the trip to Bedford, Virginia where we perused a couple of pieces until inspiration struck with this prehistoric piece I modeled last October. It sold within a few days and Linwood has grown his collection since.

We all know how things can change in a year. Unfortunately for my friend Caren, it has changed to include a legal battle in which her ex husband is fighting for full custody. DarkWater Jewelry is partnering with Caren to offer a large portion of the proceeds of jewelry sales to help Caren pay for her increasing attorney's fees.

You can click this link to become a supporter, donate, or offer encouragement. Here is Caren's testimonial:

Why should you donate?

I have had full custody of my 7 year-old son since his father signed it away in 2009. Despite his long history of substance abuse and a history of violence against me and verbal cruelty to me and to others, he has recently filed a petition for full custody- and my attorney's fees are racking up - right now, I owe about $11,000 in legal fees, and now have to retain a NEW attorney. I was recently laid off. PLEASE help in any way you can, even if that is only to spread the word to others that might help, or to pray for us.

 Linwood has offered five pendants and I'm certain that by getting the word out we can do what I've encouraged businesses and individuals to do hundred of times over the years--partner together to increase profit and awareness and above all community. 

The Lowly Peaks of Otter

Upon learning that the Peaks of Otter Lodge had reopened for the remainder of the summer, I felt it my Screw duty to mosey on up there to Bedford and see what I could see. With the promise of WiFi and cable, I felt certain a nature get-away was just the thing for a invigorating, overnight stay.

We're going to play a fun new game in which, when I'm about to be disappointed by something, you'll know by the precursor statement "oh, look at that." When you see the "oh, look at that" you'll know it's your clue for finding issues with any number of things. It's kind of like a game my mother played with me as a child when reading Richard Scarry's books. Mom, with a lofty excitement in her encouraging voice, goaded me to find Lowly worm with his cute little boot and hat and his mischievous, yet innocent countenance (that's right--he was my inspiration). Later on in Bible College I discovered by way of The Message (it's kind of like the hipster of Bibles) that his real name was Jacob. Only a select amount of people will get that joke and that's ok because it has nothing to do with anything we're talking about.

                                   (Lowly and his friends take the Sharp Top Bus Tour)

We arrive and wait in line for five minutes before I decide that I want to look in the gift store. Way overpriced, but that's to be expected. At least they had a few creative items like a cutting board and a few pretty ornaments.

I rejoined the line to learn that, oh, look at that, WiFi is not working and they cannot access or confirm any reservations. But that's ok because the people smart enough to know this would happen within the first few weeks of reopening stayed home to scoff at the News and Advance article on their laptop while watching their cable television.

Speaking of television, there was none. Either that or they are now so high tech that the wire sticking out of the wall was connected to an invisible television that only Lowly and his friends can see.

I'll take this opportunity to, with no apologies, make fun of you smug folk who make fun of people like me. You'll say something witty such as,"Why yes, that cable WAS connected to an invisible TV and it's called nature! Who would go to an establishment that is obviously nature centric and watch television? What have we become when the opportunity to breathe fresh air, commune with trees, challenge our physical, mental, and spiritual beings and to go back to our origins are compromised and sloughed off for the Kardashians? We need to turn off our cell phones and realize what we've become."

To that person I would first suggest they go find their proverbial lowly worm and second would confirm that I realize what I have become. I have become that person who enjoyed the quaint and rustic accommodations in theory until I realized the promise of electronics was bankrupt. The mountains are pretty and the vintage, campy room with the bottle opener on the bathroom door and the razor disposal built into the wall tile are super quaint but it gets dark at night, bugs are loud, and I'm not great at vandalism although I'm fairly competent in the field of petty theft. We have no cable at home, there's no television at all in the bedroom, and my ideal vacation evening is eating crackers and squeeze cheese in bed, in my underwear, while watching Nick at Nite.

Don't sit there in your condescending way and tell me that I could read, either. I am considerably well read. If you've been paying attention you'll note the Lowly Worm nod near the introduction.

We walked around the grounds for a while as I had already had a bottle of wine in an attempt to negotiate my feelings about the significant loss I experienced in coming to terms with the thought of paying for a hotel with no cable. I had convinced myself that we could procure an elderly couple that would come over to our room, eat squeeze cheese and crackers, and teach me some really quaint and charming old people game, but Erik said the way I get loud and thrash my hands about after drinking an entire bottle of wine would be a bit off-putting and regardless, oh look at that--no real games of any kind in the lodge except checkers and, oh look at that, I suck at checkers.


The next morning we made our way to the restaurant which was actually, very nice. It's very open and wooden with big windows and a lovely view of the mountains I wouldn't be climbing because of a combination of a hangover and a potential stomach ulcer. If you visit in autumn (which I may very well do as a second chance effort) I will say the bedding is very warm. I was hot all night, even though the air conditioner was working smoothly.

Breakfast was very affordable but I can't comment in length because, due to said stomach issue, I only ordered a bagel and yogurt although, oh look at that, they were out of grits. No Southern restaurant should ever be out of grits unless it's due to force feeding them down the throats of Yankees by the hundreds yelling,"YOU CAN'T PUT SUGAR IN GRITS YOU IDIOT!"

I'm just messin' with you, Yankees. You can put sugar in your grits. If you're a total chode.

This trip gets a Screw Lucy, "we'll try again." I do think it's an affordable local getaway for a number of ideals--let's say a new couple who enjoys nature and lots of physical activity, a women's church group getting together for worship and community (they have a small amphitheater with church services on Sunday), or a guy in his forties who egotistically poo-poos others for being too dependent on technology but then, oh look at that, can't stand himself after an hour alone.

The Screw: Extra Virgin and Custom Oiled

Aren't you sick of my misleading blog titels? I mean, titles. Sigh...why is The Screw so mischievous?

Anyway, The Screw is headed to a different type of tasting room the last weekend in August when headed to Richmond for some fine tasting and slipping around (I think I might be imagining that part, but then again, I'm very clumsy) at The Olive Oil Taproom. Upon browsing their olive oil I thought that it's probably best that I'm going back to school since the explanation of their products is reminiscent of science class. I suppose it's really almost an educational experience. But I'm fine with educational as long as it involves eating.

Now their infused oils were more like a menu: all herbs and lemon and butter and mushroom. I get the idea it's like a wine tasting except afterwards you don't get pulled over hours later by an Amherst County cop for a breathalyzer that will put you way under the legal limit yet require you to call a friend to come get you. That never happened to me.

Apparently there is some sort of scandal surrounding olive oil that I was too disinterested to read (Why do I feel so guilty saying that? Man, I guess it's good I'm going back to school) but I AM going to post this video of olive oil scandal guy because I fancy myself a dialect expert and I would put money on this guy is from Los Angeles or has lived there a long time. I could be wrong but I can't find out where he's from so we're going to assume I'm right.



So now I'm all sorts of off to read about what an olive oil tasting consists of and what kind of costume I should wear.

Bread and Breakfast

The Screw attempts to keep things local, personal, and chocked full of bacon, syrup, grits, and orange juice. That's why when I travel, I do my best to book by B&B.

I've been using BBOnline since I was in my mid-twenties (in other words, yesterday) and I've enjoyed their casual and comfortable approach to bed and breakfast marketing. It's sort of like being in your grandma's "full-yay" (foyer): you can take your kick off your shoes and take a load off before you settle in for an evening.

That's probably why they decided to highlight my wise and insightful observations about local bed and breakfasts for their blog this month--that and the fact that I'm The Screw and I'm as chock full of awesome as a homemade breakfast with biscuits, gravy, scrambled eggs, and Cap'n Crunch.

I obviously haven't eaten breakfast.

You can read the interview here. 

Screw the Weekend Edition: Bad Boy Botetout Trail

The Botetourt County Wine trail will lead you on like a bad boyfriend this month as it prepares for events that are unfathomably reckless in a excessively safe and elemental fashion.

Blue Ridge Vineyard is getting down like a bunch of barefoot hippies with the Fat Daddy Band August 10th. You can get down with my fave from the vineyard--Cab Franc--or Solstice in the painted bottle. Stay at the Santillane Bed and Breakfast for $110 and enjoy a large bedroom with working fireplace or stay at Fincastle Bed and Breakfast and Vineyard for $135 a night. Linger the next day if you like--I recommend the chardonnay and playing stick with the German Sheppard. There are also coasters that are a "must have" for any true wine lover.

Enter the next day and what you have is the opportunity to re-tree-hugger yourself with a Yoga Relaxation experience at Virginia Mountain Vineyard. A stretch, a breath, a taste--a 10% discount. Please purchase a bottle of the Holiday Spice and relive my favorite movie, It's a Wonderful Life, as Clarence orders mulled wine--heavy on the cinnamon, light on the cloves:

Ernesto's

Mexican restaurants around here are kind of like churches. You learn what to expect and categorize them once you've been to a few. There are the restaurants with the hot sauce on the tables and the ones without. You have your restaurants with the white sauce in addition to the salsa. The salsa itself is really a good indicator of how your experience will progress.

Then you have your margaritas.

La Carreta likes to tell you how far superior their margaritas are to Mi Patron. This may be the case but if it weren't for the location being so tremendously convenient, I'd choose Mi Patron any day because of the superiority of the food. Their salsa is full of chunks of onion and cilantro. La Carreta's salsa is essentially ketchup with some spice. Plus you have the feeling there's extra tequila because they're trying to get you drunk and possibly abscond with you after work for a very lascivious siesta time.

Ernesto's is located in the old Swenson's part of the Plaza for those of you who have been long term natives. A few of you may remember going there after Sunday night church service. I distinctly recall three ice cream parlors in Lynchburg that harbor memories from childhood or High School: High's Ice Cream, Swenson's, and Billy Joes. None of them are around any longer. Swenson's reminds me of my cousin and church. He must have liked going there and I believe we did go after church. High's Ice Cream reminds me of my Grandfather since he took me there often (it was only a few blocks from the church he pastored) and I always ordered rainbow sherbert.We went to Billy Joe's often during High School and I have way too many stories to share most of which involve various best friends.

But let's stick to the new Mexican Restaurant.

The salsa was not good. There are a few reasons this may be the case. One, it's homemade and someone put in the wrong amount of pepper, because, you see, all you could taste was pepper. The second option could be they reuse their salsa and someone dumped a load of pepper into it. Let's just assume that's not the case. Third, they could just really prefer salsa that tastes like pepper. If there are other options, feel free to insert them.

The margarita, which was definitely not strong at all, came in a martini glass. If you have OCD this is the point where you would have needed to make an exit. I feel that all my liqueurs, drinks, wines, and beers, need to be in the appropriate glass, plus I like a lot of salt, but I decided it wasn't that big of a deal.

The establishment was clean, however, and I liked the color of the walls. It felt like more of a tropical Mexico with Mayan artwork and pineapple selections on the menu.

I also prefer Mexican restaurants that offer more than just the Speedy Gonzales (I find this dish's name offensive on many levels, perhaps the king of which is a menu item named after a rodent). When I see plantains, pineapple, and other more creative selections on the menu, I feel that they're trying to branch out and be their own unique class of Mexican (which doesn't work around here of course since this town often prefers the sheep mentality which results in dining with the herd--I could expound on this but you either know what I mean and you're offended or you're laughing). I ordered the quesadilla Texacana and Erik ordered the fish tacos (which I wanted but he ordered so, you know).

My thing was huge and as far as I know it was decent but I was so full of chips that I could barely eat it. The fish tacos I really liked. They arrived with a side of lime and chili sauce plus they were prepared with cilantro. Yum!

Ernesto's has a buffet Monday-Friday and on Sundays that sounded affordable, diverse, and healthy (fruit for desert, salad, etc).

I would be interested in trying other menu items when I'm very interested in having Mexican food that is more than just your taco and enchilada.

Another Gluten Free Blog

Allergies are a pain. I hate avoiding anything I like including but not limited to wine during a round of antibiotics. I am allergic to green peppers, but at the most, the smell or ingesting of said pepper will give me a mild migraine.

Others have more serious allergies. There's been a lot about Celiac Disease since that annoying blond girl on The View discovered she had the illness and wrote a cook book.

There's this dude named Bob Moore that knew about the benefits of a whole grain, gluten free diet long before that. I like to read and I read lot of biographies, so I ordered his book last year when it was published and I have to admit, I admire the man. He perservered through a lot of failure yet with strong faith and a few "coincidences" he built the company that is now Bob's Red Mill. He recently essentially gave the business to his workers as well, an act of graciousness and trust that reflects the whole of his life.



Among a few of the local businesses that accommodate allergies is Anderson's Market in Madison Heights. You can buy Bobs Red Mill products there.

The pizza crust is the best I have had so far. I'm comparing it to frozen wheat-free pizzas. It's a little sticky, but if you buy rice flour as you're rolling out the dough, it actually makes a very fine (and fine looking, in my opinion) pie:

Of course, if you don't want to make your own pie, you can go to Monte Carlo's on Old Forest Road or Dominoes now serves a wheat free option, but they will be more expensive, and really, would they look anything like this?

$10 Love You Long Time

"Don't eat cereals that change the color of the milk." --Michael Pollan, Food Author

So I had this experience that has really nothing to do with the rest of this blog but sort of does have something to do with the above quote. I visited The Homeplace Vineyard in Chatham, Virginia last year for the third time. However, I experienced one of those enchanting wine encounters that may or may not be unique to me. 

Sometimes while sampling wine, I taste or smell either A. things that are not edible (for instance, carpet or pine needles) or B. things that are edible but are completely unrelated to wine (i.e. popcorn). In this case, I had to buy a glass to detect the very distinct and undeniable flavor of Froot Loop milk. Seriously. Sip, wait 15 seconds, and what you've got on your palate is Froot Loop milk. I was totally aghast and enamored at the same time. If you're headed out that way, the wine is named "Rockin' Rose." 

This has nothing really to do with what I'm going to talk about here. But I think wine is a good way to start anything.

Upon perusing Live Healthy Lynchburg's website, I discovered a link entitled $10 Buy Local Challenge. So, as underscored by the above local drinking, I thought to myself,"Psh, I probably spend at least $50 a month in local wine, let alone produce and meat (please feel free to visit my Woman's Day blog for evidence). I'll bypass everyone else on this alleged 'challenge' by far!" 

Just so you know, it's not a competition. I just make random events and life experiences into competitions in my head if I know I can win them. When I was little I was the champion for three years in a row for how much packaged hamburger I could touch before losing site of Mom. I should probably talk to my counselor about that...

Anyway, I took the pledge and followed Live Healthy Lynchburg's website to another very pleasing site that is relatively new and very resourceful and educational. Here is what I learned:

1. Virginia Food System Council helps Virginians find local food sources.

You can find information and education about local grocers, farms, and co-ops and Virginia Food System Council doesn't make it costly or difficult. Here the instructions on one of their helpful links at Local Harvest:


Help us round out our database by contacting farmers or farmers' market managers in your area, and encouraging them to visit our site. Over twenty new farms and markets join LocalHarvest every day, but there are still many more who need to hear about this site. We appreciate your help spreading the word about LocalHarvest! If you are a Sustainable Agriculture or Family Farming group, contact us to discuss how we can partner together in support of your work. 

                                          (Bedford Avenue Meat Shop Chicken)


2. There are 10 ways you and I can support the $10 a week challenge:

1. Encourage your local food group members to go online and pledge support
2. Share the link to the $10 a week challenge website through your email networks
3. Share the $10 a week challenge press release through your email networks
4. Follow and “Like” the Virginia Food System Council on Facebook
5. Use your social networks to encourage your friends to pledge $10 a week
6. Share the press release and website with your region’s economic development offices and encourage them to distribute in their e-newsletters
7. Promote the $10 a week campaign in your printed and online local food directories
8. Encourage your county offices to promote the challenge and pledge support of the campaign
9. Print out the $10 a week challenge poster and display at your area farmers markets, grocers, restaurants, etc.
10. Write about the $10 a week challenge in your local paper’s editorial section.

Or you could just already write an awesome blog that includes buying and eating locally like I do but beware any and all mental competitions that may be involved.

                              (Meat: Bedford Ave Meat Shop Vegetables: David Farm Fresh Market)

3. Apparently (and I learned this on the VFSC website) The Smithsonian Institution and The American Museum of Natural History will both have major exhibitions devoted to food and the food industry. I will be planning a weekend trip in mid April that will involve lunch at a Farm-to-Table restaurant for anyone who would like to go.

These are a Few of my Least Favorite Things

As we are summarizing the year, many folk are making lists of resolutions. This year I will stop smoking, lose weight, be more positive--you realize what I mean.

This year, in light of my current depressed and lethargic mood that typically accompanies too much sugar, not enough sleep, and most importantly, an exorbitant amount of stress, I take great pleasure in another offensive blog underscoring the types of people that I cannot stand and who typically don't realize I am making fun of them to their face.

Of course those of you who know me, realize I'm typically too nice but on days like this when the crazy comes out, I just don't give a shit.

Here is a list, in no particular order, of the types of people I hate:

1. People who don't know how to drive.

I cannot count the number of occasions in which I have attempted to merge into traffic when no cars are coming, with the exception of the Sedan in the right lane who sees my turn signal from a mile away yet continues on in the right lane, even though the left lane would imply the zombie apocalypse has taken place since there is not a car in sight. I hate people who leisurely enjoy their time at newly-turned-green lights and those who go five to ten miles under the speed limit while I'm trying to arrive on time. I hate people who ride your ass when there are two lanes and they could easily pass you.

I especially hate people who ride your ass with their brights on. This particular circumstance occurred on a very dark road once while I was delivering a pizza. Mr. "I'm-making-up-for-my-incredibly-small-penis-with-this-ridiculously-large-lift-kit-truck" found that it was not as desirable as he suspected to ride my ass with his brights on (blinding me, by the way) since I casually flipped up my rear view mirror and drove 10 miles per hours for about 5 miles. Which brings me to my next hated person.

2. Alpha Males

I could write an entire book about this one, but I will attempt to keep this relatively brief. Alpha males are often confused with real men. Real men can be aggressive, full of testosterone, spit and fury. They can take charge as well as command. There is nothing wrong with this.

Alpha males, on the other hand, are men who are typically closet or open misogynists who either had a cowardly, dead beat father or a mother who spoiled them--or both. This is not a necessary condition but you'll often find it's a common factor in their history. It's also possible they had a misogynistic, Alpha Male father who instructed them on the ways of being an asshole.

I had a boss who was an Alpha Male. I'd be glad to share his name and work address if you're interested in seeing one in action. They are often in a relationship as, ironically, they cannot be without a woman and they choose women that appear to be independent but in fact, are not. They often flirt with or choose women who are significantly younger than they are since they are in reality threatened by women or anyone else who may resist their domineering mannerisms or positions. My afore mentioned boss would openly flirt with one of our teenage staff while engaged to his now wife. Alpha Males can do this because Alpha Males feel they have the right to do whatever they want--because they are Alpha Males and by god, they are in charge.

They will typically undermine their family or coworkers, humiliate others, and act inappropriately when threatened. You'll notice these are the men who use derogatory descriptions of others including but not limited to: men of another race, women, anyone else in authority.

They are also actually spineless dicks. God help you if you are forced to work with one, especially if you are a woman or--God forbid--you manage one.

3. Insecure women

I have seen this time and time again. A beautiful woman walks into a room and a group of women start bad mouthing her--what she's wearing, doing, who she thinks she is, etc.

In partnership with insecure women, I also cannot stand stupid women. If I was jealous of another woman, the last fucking thing I would do would be to make myself look jealous by talking about that woman. I would at least attempt to hide it by not saying a word or going an extra step to compliment her.

I am friends with several models. I am proud to be friends with these people because of who they are. I am not threatened by them. Everyone has something to offer--women need to learn that confidence is their best asset.

4. Men who stalk me on facebook and then leave rude comments on my posts.

I have had this happen on a number of occasions. I try to respect my family and friends who are straight laced Christians by not using the F word but I cannot understand "friending" a stranger, going out of your way to read all their posts, and then leaving comments that are obnoxious. Every single comment is rude, offensive, or undermining. It makes me want to just say,"Hey--you friended me you jerk so fuck off." But I don't because I'm nice, except in this blog.

On one particular occasion, one of these brands of stalkers made one final irritating comment and I used my sarcastic super powers to encourage him to delete me, which he did.

5. Women who friend me on Facebook and actually don't like me.

You know who you are. Why in the hell you follow me when we have mutual friends and I know what you've said about me behind my back is beyond me. You're the bad kind of crazy bitch. The reason that these women follow me is the same reason they hate me--I'm fascinating, interesting, and fabulous and they can't stand it, but they can't resist being voyeurs.

6. People who are abusive to others who they know cannot fight back.

This includes people who are mean to customer service representatives who would lose their job if they actually said,"I can't take this return because you've worn it and it stinks the same way that you do you nasty whore." It includes people who are mean to clergy in ways they would never be mean to anyone else. It includes people who say horrible things on the internet anonymously. It includes management who make underhanded and derogatory statements to their staff. Please see "Alpha Male."

7. Rich people who deny they are rich and then act just as rude and entitled as the poor people they complain about.

Not unrelated to these people are their children, who typically don't have real jobs, do massive amounts of cocaine and sleep with everyone in town. If you're rich and fucked up, that's cool. But don't be rich and fucked up and talk about us poor people like you are so much better. I know rich individuals who are so ridiculously entitled that they truly believe they are throwing you a bone by acknowledging that they know you. You're snobby and fake, and we who actually work for a living realize your ways and we laugh at you behind your back. True story.

8. People who belong to a political party, complain about aspects of the opposite party, and are so obviously guilty of the same shit.

I'll use an example for those of you who are not clear on this particular complaint. I have talked with someone who has filed bankruptcy twice in 10 years because they chose not to live within their means yet will go on and on and on about the national debt. Pardon me, but this makes no sense. You complain about government spending, but you have no personal control over your own finances and because you want to go on vacations you can't afford and buy automobiles outside of your budget, you are essentially never going to pay back your lenders--which in my opinion, is the exact same character issue.

I would be writing another book if I pointed out all the hypocrisy's of both political parties so I'll move on.

9. People who won't admit their children have issues.

This includes but is not limited to people who allow their children to act god awful in public and then make excuses for them on a consistent basis, people who will not admit their children have a mental illness because they are personally ashamed, and people who actually laugh at their children's bad behavior and encourage it.

This is another book subject but since I don't have children I'm afraid it will come back to haunt me.

10. People who think that every derogatory facebook status in the world is about them when they in fact have no idea who or what I'm talking about.

If it's about you and I made it, I'm pretty sure you'll know it's about you. Otherwise, please refer to number 3-5 and/or delete my ass.

These are a few of my least favorite things. If you have read this blog and see yourself in any of these please don't hesitate to comment, ask questions, or publicly blast me in a public forum. I welcome any and all publicity with the exception of nude photos and I'm fairly certain my Mother is the only individual in possession of those.

4 Good Lessons "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" Teaches Kids: The Rebuttal

You should first acknowledge the difference between the Expressive and Analytic personality types. Erik is an Analytic: they tend toward the pessimistic outlook on life.

This carries over to Christmas movies. You may not have noticed, but some of the individuals in your life cannot tolerate Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. There are explanations for this aversion, but they can mostly be summarized by the following description--these movies are sad and depressing.

Well folks, despite what Cracked.com may underscore concerning these films, I will annihilate their logic with a very Screw Lucy blog from a very Screw Lucy perspective:

1. Santa, like most management, has serious issues.

Throughout the story of Rudolph, we observe a variety of problems that are true to real life. One, the big guy in charge has serious issues. He resists his loving wife who is obviously concerned about his image in business, he is clueless about the ins and outs of the industry of which he is ultimately responsible, and he blatantly ignores the concerns of the one individual that could make or break his company.

I beg the question: what conglomerate does not reflect this archetype? You have ignored a learning opportunity with your child if, while reflecting upon Rudolph's Santa, you haven't taken your precious child upon your lap to advise them that some day they too will have the opportunity to work for a guy in a suit that, while appearing ideal and accomplished to the general public, is in actuality slighting his family and ignoring the needs of the little people who have the skills and presence of mind to usurp his authority and "stick it to the man." This movie is not called "The Uprising of the Seasonally Skinny Santa." I think you get the picture.

2. Being different sucks in the beginning.

During a commercial break, your child may be slightly miffed or unsettled at the treatment Rudolph is receiving from Santa, Clarice, his family, and even the Elves. Please utilize this time to disclose to your child that most of the greats received a barrage of bullying during the earlier stages of their career. You may want to visit the pristine examples of Eminem and Bill Clinton. Eminem was beaten up, chastised by his mother, and survived a suicide attempt. In this child/parent moment you may want to examine a few key quotes by this successful and world famous rap artist. I recommend several relevant adages including,"I am whatever you say I am; if I wasn't, then why would you say I am?" and "I was poor white trash, no glitter, no glamour but I'm not ashamed of anything."

Bill Clinton was a fat kid known for his love of fast food and equally fast women. Perhaps you could revisit a few of his more well-known quotes when your child is older, including,"I did not have sex with that woman."

On second thought, we may want to leave Clinton out of this and go with Taylor Swift instead. You may encourage your child that she has produced many successful songs based on her moments of heartbreak, which I'm sure have nothing at all to do with any personality flaws.

3. Boring and unimaginative people don't appreciate you accentuating their crap.

This particular lesson is best exemplified in Hermey the Elf. He shared his dissatisfaction with his monotonous and conventional occupation only to receive backlash from his peers, who obviously knew they were incapable of the skills and ingenuity necessary to leave a dead end job. In the summary of the film, we notice Hermey reappears, only to graciously examine his former coworkers teeth that have been rotted by excessive amounts of candy, which the elves could only afford through the paltry wages afforded by Santa the slave driver. Here is an excellent coaching tool for your unique and ambitious child to demonstrate a moment of truth: people don't like others who do not bow to the drone mentality of the commonplace.

4. The moral of the story: freaks will realize their superiority and use their solidarity against their oppressors.

In the end, we see that Santa's level of perception and character has not changed a bit. Rudolph returns from his brave and courageous journey a better buck, having rejected normalcy only to find community, challenge, and calling. Santa is still repulsed by his nose, yet in a moment of rare clarity, recognizes he may use his former employee's perceived malady to his own cunning and conniving success. I assure you, folks--Rudolph is not getting holiday pay here. He, after all, did not work the day before AND after the holiday.

However, Rudolph is not being used. No sir. Rudolph realizes that sometimes in business you have to manipulate the Big Man to truly benefit the people. He presents himself as an humble and honorable candidate for Santa's seedy scheme, but we who are also freaks acknowledge the bigger picture: Rudolph "nose" there is no funding for the Island of Misfit toys so therefore uses Santa's own meager guile against him to find homes for all his outcast associates.

We also take comfort in the even bigger picture that, unlike their dull and ne'er-do-well assembly, Rudolph, Hermey, and Yukon Cornelius have risen above the basic and archaic concept of an eye-for-an-eye in order to exemplemplify a higher road--a Northern Pole if you will--in doing unto others what you would have them do unto you. Yukon Cornelius is the social worker in this scenario as he has partnered with Hermey to remove the teeth of the Abominable Snowman to restore him as a productive member of society.

I will conclude this blog by quoting the often under appreciated Christmas character, Sam the Snowman:

It's always the same story. 

Funnel Cake Burger

If I eat carrots with a funnel cake burger, does that make the meal healthy? No? That's too bad, because that's exactly what I'm doing as a write this, waiting for the leftover burger to cool.

In some circumstances, I like to order the same thing when I enter a frequented establishment. For instance, at Subway I typically order (on a rare occasion I will branch out) a turkey sub with wheat bread, non-toasted, with provolone, spinach, onion, black olives, tomato, oil and vinegar, salt, pepper, and oregano, with a side of Cool Ranch Doritos and diet soda. At Sweet Frog I always get the original tart with slivered almonds and blueberries. If there is a new flavor I may try it, but I always get the original tart. It's my favorite and I enjoy it so much I've never gone off the beaten path there.

However, when I visit a restaurant I peruse the menu looking for the item that stands out--the item that I can't find anywhere else. This is the item I order. I don't want chicken fingers or nachos (please note I have NEVER enjoyed chicken fingers) I want the specialty item or drink or both.

This item, at Robin Alexander Bistro, is the funnel cake burger.

The other contender--I can't recall the name right off hand--was a burger topped with a hot dog, macaroni and cheese, baked beans, and chips. I decided I would need to work my way up to that one.

I'm certain I didn't read the menu in detail, so I was surprised to see two smaller cheese burgers, dipped in funnel cake batter and deep fried, with a sprinkling of powdered sugar. The condiment you see in the middle (I apologize that my camera was being difficult this particular day) is a raspberry dipping sauce. 

This is an ideal choice for an individual who likes salty meals, but loves their sugar.

This is not an ideal choice for someone who has eaten little beef and lots of vegetables in the last week. My stomach was upset and I was sleepy and lethargic at 6:00 in the afternoon.

But let me tell you, it was good.

Robin Alexander Bistro has revamped their menu. I would love some of you to check it out--customers who have gone there before the changes--so we can discuss the tweaks together. 

Maybe over a Fun Dip Martini?

Screw in the Pew: Redeeming (Grace) Qualities

When I started this series I loosely swore to uphold a general aura of propriety and perspective: I am not out to review churches--I am out to have an experience and further my spiritual journey (that smacked of 1/3 hippy, two parts liberal and a smattering of kook).

I do have to be honest and open, however, and honest and open I would not be lest I provided a little background.

I don't have a positive history with Baptist churches. I've been in Methodist, Episcopal, Pentecostal, Jewish, Presbyterian--you name it--but the Baptist and I have not seen eye to eye for a very, very long time.

The last time I set foot in a Baptist church was 2 years ago and I wrote the pastor an email that, while I wouldn't earmark as nasty, was at the least stern and accusatory. I'll tell you why.

One, I am the child of a divorced, single parent who chose to become a pastor. Two, said parent decided it would be in my best interest to attend private school to complete my education. I was taught a lot more than your basic reading, writing, and Aramaic.

At fourteen, I was already the height and shape I am today (minus, er, a few pounds), I wore the same amount of makeup, and had absolutely no appreciation for the word "censor." I also feigned confidence and said whatever the hell it was I wanted to say (including "whatever the hell"). I think Mom had a clue that I wouldn't be meeting anyone else like me at this school. She timidly counselled me that the other girls would probably be fresh faced, Noxema-washed girls with bobby socks and Keds.

That all turned out to be true. A great majority of them were also from Heritage Baptist church. I learned a few things my first year of High School:

1. If you're different, you ain't right.

2. If you're a female, you absolutely need your dad, husband, minister, or a combination of all to tell you what to do at all times or you're in a serious amount of trouble since women are inherently evil.

3. If you speak in tongues, you might be demon possessed.

4. If you raise your hands in church, you might be demon possessed.

5. If you listen to anything but Christian music, you might be demon possessed.

6. If you associate with anyone who is demon possessed you might be demon possessed.

7. Pride and gossip, perfectly wrapped in the trappings of insincerity, will never imply demonic possession and is actually encouraged.

8. It's perfectly fine to identify others as having issues and persecute them daily while never admitting or repenting of your own.

9. Some will be happy to pray for you and quote Scripture to you while ripping your own set of values to absolute shreds--with a smile and sometimes a hug.

10. Adults can and will be total assholes to minors in the name of Jesus.

I realize, of course, that not all Baptists are like this. But understand if you will that just as everyone has their own prejudice based on experience, I harbor mine. This persecution and experience only continued after High School because I reside in Lynchburg, Virginia.

I won't tell you I've been in a ton of Baptist churches, but it seems to me that I cannot attend one without hearing at least one of two things: Baptists have cornered the market on doctrine and women should under no circumstances be leaders in the church.

I got to hear both at Redeeming Grace church Sunday morning.

The pastor based his sermon on John 16 and I will not mislead you by communicating that his sermon was about these two things. It was, rather, concerning how Jesus would send the Holy Spirit to guide us after his departure:

"¹² “I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear. ¹³ But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come. ¹⁴ He will glorify me because it is from me that he will receive what he will make known to you. ¹⁵ All that belongs to the Father is mine. That is why I said the Spirit will receive from me what he will make known to you.”

However, he was able to use this to keenly instill in an already aware congregation that women should not be leaders in the church. He also presented an interesting question: if Christ said the above, then how is it that we have different denominations? 

In my hearty discrimination, of course, what I heard was,"How can everyone else be so wrong when we are so obviously correct about anything and everything?"

I appreciated the fact that he admitted he didn't know the answer for sure, but I also have to note that I found some of his assertions contradictory. For instance, he stated that people who do not confess that the Bible is the inherent Word of God are not saved. I am probably one of those people. I believe that the Bible is the inspired Word of God. However, I also believe that men wrote the Bible and are subject to the same scrutiny--did the Holy Spirit perfectly communicate to them? 

How is it that we are still convinced that women should not be leaders in the church? I suppose the better question in my mind would be, how are women on board with this idea? And can we stop blaming the desire to lead and instruct others on the feminist movement (which, of course, he did)? Women did not wake up to the possibility that they were worthy of basic human rights in the 1960's in America. That is the most dumbass, absurd, ignorant idea propagated by churches--that homosexuality and feminism somehow manifested in the last 100 years in America just to attack the church. I had a Liberty student tell me once that homosexuality had only really become prominent in the last 100 years in America. 

I was like,"Um, just a question--do you know where the word 'lesbian' comes from?" 

The best question may be, if there is a possibility that by having it wrong, an entire people group is restricted to responding to a call from God to leadership and authority in the church, why wouldn't you pursue a more gracious interpretation of a few passages in the Bible? 

But this line of thinking can be extended to any number of things and create a slippery slope into heresy. Of course. Danger lies within this reason. Do not enter. Do not pass go. Do NOT go in there....WOOO! (Ace Venture quote complimentary of High School days).

I did wait until the service was over and then I left. And upon attempting to shake off my offense, like so many times before I assented to the assumption that Baptist's intentions are good. They raise nice families in nice neighborhoods and earnestly desire to create a righteous heritage for their families and community.

The dictionary defines grace as "a manifestation of favor, especially by a superior." My Mom always told me it was often more important to be gracious than to be right. 

Perhaps that is the one redeeming quality she instilled in an otherwise demon possessed offspring. 

How to get Free Herb Downtown

I've heard it say the best things in life are free. I'm not sure if that's always true but I do know this: you can get free herb in Downtown Lynchburg. And like Martha Stewart said--it's a good thing.

I'm a fan of Bedford Avenue Meat Shop. There are several reasons for this. I'm not a big meat eater, but when I do eat meat, I'd like to think it's healthy. It is more expensive, but if you're attempting to eat better then you're eating less and more quality. It's important for me to know what I'm getting as well so, just so you know, "all natural" embodies more than a few factors:

The animals are raised humanely. 


The meat is lower in fat.


There are less chemicals and pesticides. 


There are more vitamins A, E, and Omega 3's


It tastes better. 


And now Bedford Avenue Meat Shop has added a bonus feature--an herb wall with free clippings. You can add them to oils or use them in cooking. I'll attest to the fact they are super fresh and green. They smell absolutely fabulous. They offer basil, cilantro, oregano, dill, and 18 other varieties.

Be sure to watch for my recipe madness....

El Lucy

Since cheese is my favorite food is it any wonder that I love Mexican food?

Here is a picture of me at Mi Patron, my favorite Mexican restaurant, getting a surprise cream to the face on my 30th birthday. I know, I know, it's hard to believe I'm a day over 25.

It seems that La Carreta has been the top Mexican restaurant in Lynchburg for, what, 10 years straight? It's always busy and popular with a variety of demographics although I'll say I've observed the most interesting folk at the location on Langhorne Road. I order the Pollo Loco or a few tacos. I don't enjoy the tomato sauce they pour over the combination dinners. 

I've made a game of trying everything on Mi Patron's menu. I wonder how many folk just order the same thing every time or the standard combo meal. I've ordered the T-Bone steak, spinach enchiladas, and don't be deceived: the doritos special doesn't actually involve Doritos. 

This Cinco de Mayo I will probably spend my time at the El Cazador in Gretna. You can read my candid reviews of other Mexican restaurants in the area on Yelp.

Who Wants to Help Screw Lucy-fer?

Peaks of Otter Wine: some people love it, some people hate it. For those haters among us I say when life gives you lemons make lemonade wine.

The biggest issue that haters have with Peaks wine is that it's too sweet. My thoughts are, why not use Peaks wine to make mixed drinks? Mixed drinks are supposed to be sweet, right?

My first idea for a mixed drink is create a signature Screw Lucy-ifer Bloody Mary which would involve T.C. Trotters Moose Mix and Kiss-the-Devil wine for a truly local beverage (if you think you can handle it). Other ideas are to mix drinks, sans liquor add wine, for a new twist on standard drinks:

Strawberry Shortcake Daiquiri

Puff the Russian Dragon

Irish Cafe Vino

Peach on the Beach

Nuts and Blueberry Muffin

This recipes experimentation will happen soon. The question is, will you be involved?

Vanity

Despite a lapse for the last few years, I have always purchased vanity plates. It's really a basic requirement for a shameless self promoter. I have considered donating them to a few local restaurants (can you name a few that have plate decor? I can think of 2 right off the bat) but haven't gotten around to digging them out of storage. Of course, my very first vanity plate is something I will never give away: they are signed by the lead singer of Def Leppard and celebrate my favorite band very obviously by proclaiming the name of my favorite album-- ADRNLIZ.

Of course, no one understood what this meant so strangers usually called me Adrian Liz.

I usually either tried to sum up a year or describe a value. One of my more laughable plates was W82M8. I didn't get a lot of dates that year.

There are folks around town who are ambiguously famous. What I mean by this of course is that we have all seen their vanity plates around town and we have no idea who they are. But when we see them we say,"Oh there goes the IZ guy." It certainly doesn't hurt that the IZ guy also drives flashy sports cars. His most recent is a black BMW. His most memorable was a yellow Corvette.

Then we have the people who put their name on their plates (a family member is guilty of this one), the ode-to people (country living, race car drivers, etc), and the people who want you to know they have been a mee maw 3 times.

Then we have the clever group of folk who make their plates difficult to discern. But I have never seen one I haven't guessed. It's another talent wasted.

But alas, this is Lynchburg, so you realize there is at least one Holy Vanity for every other 3 types. Some are more creative than others but you know them when you see them. They are all over the place. Whether generic (I LUV GD) or doctrinal (HECMNBK) if you're paying attention you can see at least one a day.

Tell me I'm wrong. Try it for a week, then tell me I'm wrong.

As for me, I purchased my first vanity plate in a while (due to poverty not lack of narcissism) last year. It unfortunately fits into the memorial category.

I'll be sticking with it for quite some time.

My Favorite Place to Take Old People

My Grandmother willingly volunteers to anyone within earshot that I neglect her. I don't mind strangers receiving this information, but she tells my friends and then, later on, they scold me. The conversation goes something like this:

Friend: "Oh your Grandmother is so sweet! Why don't you spend more time with her?"

Me: "You don't see the big picture."

Friend: "She just wants someone to pay attention to her and listen to her. Can't you spend more time with her."

Me: "You don't see the big picture."

Friend: "If I were you, I would spend more time with your Grandmother."

Me: "Bitch. Please."

Once at a yard sale a woman practically beat me up because of some fabrication of truth my Grandmother--in front of me mind you--told some stranger. I almost committed elderly abuse in public that day but just left for the weekend instead.

The truth is, I live with my Grandmother as a courtesy to her, so I can ensure her safety. I am the only single member of the already meager family and anyone who is single realizes that, with absence of children and husband, you are automatically volunteered for these positions since "you have nothing to do."

Never mind I spend 8 hours on the road alone each week and have around 4 hours a day to do laundry, chores, errands, eat dinner, write, and finish (FINISH--HA!) any other thing I need to do. No one does mind this--not a Grandmother nor a judgmental friend.

But believe it or not, when time is made (and duties neglected...or more often SLEEP neglected) I do enjoy spending time with Grandma. I usually squeeze in several Scrabble games a week and today, I committed myself to neglecting the gym so that I could go straight home and assist her with gardening. By "assist" I mean that I handed her flowers: I am not a fan of dirt, bugs, or heat. The people I work with find this abhorrent (this is me, restraining myself from mentioning what I find abhorrent about them).

Then I decided to ask her to go out to eat. This is generally something she doesn't do--something about her teeth not working correctly--but despite her non-existent appetite this evening she decided to go.

We go to Country Kitchen on Lakeside Drive. This establishment has no credit card reader and still naively accepts checks from strangers with a smile. It is also full of old people. And a few Harley riders. And very competent waitresses. And it's cheap.

By the way, when I do spend time with Grandma she talks about how I don't spend time with her. And at this point I'm so used to it that I hardly pay attention. I redirect the conversation and it goes something like this: quilts, house repairs, hemorrhoids, do I owe her money, gardening, how I neglect my dog, she needs new teeth, do I owe her money, where is her (insert random item of the week), dry skin, do I owe her money.

And no, I don't owe her money. And no, I don't neglect my dog: she overfeeds and babies my dog (remind me to tell you the heating pad story).

We order--me, chicken and dumplings with a side of turnip greens and cottage cheese her, beef tips with gravy and whipped potatoes with peas.

She reminds me she won't be around for long. And I know. I remind her if she'd give me all her money now, I can quit my job and devote days to painting the dog's nails and chauffeuring her around. She asks me if I owe her any money.

I don't owe her any money but she owes me: I paid for dinner. Then after dinner I took her to one of my other favorite places to take old people--CVS. I bought Eucerin and hemorrhoid wipes for her. I really tried to talk her into adult diapers but only because I secretly want to borrow them so I don't have to get up to use the bathroom at night.

Then I dropped her off so I could go write this blog. She doesn't understand what blogging is, only that it's something that depletes her time with me. She admonishes me to come home as soon as I can.

I wait to make sure she gets in the house safely, then advise God that He need not admonish her in the same way.

Then I ask Him if He owes me any money.