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July 12, 2005

Purl Question & Answer

Work is really, really hard. HARD. There's so much WORKING. I'm trying to be all professional and good at this new software but sometimes I want to hide in a corner and eat my hair. Ya'll know. So, in lieu of a real column, I am posting some question and answer stuff that appears to be real writing but is in fact just faux funny.

Question: You mention gnomes a lot. Is there a reason for this?
Answer: I'm pretty sure that gnomes are responsible for all the unexplainable events in life -- I'm not sure where I developed this theory, but I'm fairly certain it was during the hazy university years. You know the haze of which I speak. Don't pretend you're so innocent.

Q: What is a tater tot?
A: OH MY GOD. Come to my house THIS VERY MINUTE so I can introduce you to the perfect redneck side dish, the Tater Tot. These are little cylinders of hash-brown-ish potato and you deep fry or oven fry them to an even golden-brown and then eat until you about puke. You can pour melted cheese on tater tots or smother them in onions and bacon for a real heart attack, but to me plain ol' tots are best. Tater Tots reached unparralleled heights of popularity in the 80s when we had them on school lunch menus -- one day it even coincided with square pizza day and it was practically orgasmic. Maybe the only good day in all of junior high.

Q: Why do Americans call limes "key" limes?
A: Well, Lynne, here in America we have limes, and then we have key limes which are smaller and more expensive. Also, they sort of taste different, which is the KEY difference between KEY limes and real limes. I don't know. They're small! And cute! Cute is key! Us 'mericans are odd birds.

Q: I always get a chuckle when I hear the term "finging" yarn. But perhaps you Americans have a different meaning for you know, fingering?
A: Ah. Nope. We all have pretty much the same gutter minds as ya'll Aussies, Lynne, (again! hi Lynne! Sorry I'm a bad correspondent!)

Q: Don't forget the kitty litter in your massive earthquake survival kit!
A: OK, this isn't really a question, but ya'll know. I needed to reassure you on the poop front that all four cats will have a soft place to leave their treasures even during an 8.5 earthquake. I didn't put kitty litter on my earthquake kit list because, hi! Have I mentioned my hoarding issues? Every time it's on sale, I stock up. Plus, Roy has athsma, so I'm always trying out new litter to decrease the dust level. They prefer clay litter, but I have all kinds of other VERY expensive litter hanging around for a disaster. All in all I must have 500 pounds of cat litter in and around the house. Sad, I know.

Q: Are you a natural blonde?
Well, I was born blonde. I wish I were a redhead. But my hairdresser denied me red since I was in a tenuous emotional place and he doesn't get combat pay.

Q: Are you from Texas? Or Tennessee? Or Louisiana?
A: We moved around a lot as a kid. And by "a lot" I mean EVERY SINGLE YEAR. In fact, I have lived in Los Angeles longer than any other one city. I was born in Texas, and I have lived in Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, and Florida. I never know exactly where to say I'm "from," though I suspect being born in Texas is like being born a Catholic: You can try to be other stuff, but you were branded at birth and they got your soul somewhere locked up in the courthouse or alter. So I just say I'm from Texas. It's easier that way.

Q: What ever happened to your crackhead neighbors? Did they move?
A: The Kissing Cousins moved into some rental property a few streets away (turns out Crackhead Bob actually owns the house/scene of the crime) (rumor in the neighborhood is that the house was willed to him when someone died. Maybe another, older cousin? Hmmmm.) Anyway, in theory the house was to be gutted and rebuilt, but in reality it's a big pile of suburban blight. When I had my cookout a few weeks ago, my guests said, "I knew I was on the right street when I saw the crack den!" Nice, eh?

Q: Are you ever going to update your tourist website?
A: Eventually. Right now it's still kind of like, "Oh here we were on a trip to Paris and OH MY GOD I WILL NEVER GO TO PARIS WITH HIM AGAIN AND I AM ALL ALONE AND WE HAD FUN AND WHY DIDN'T HE LOVE ME?" so you know. But one day! One day I'll go travel again. I'm excited about the idea of travelling with Jennifer or my parents and taking tons of pics. But right now I'm on a big project at work and I can't take any vacation until October. Maybe in the fall I'll go someplace cold where I can wear my handknits! Like, you know, North Hollywood! Affordable! Has the word "North" in the name!

Q: I tagged you and you never answered.
A: Hi! Tagged me? Hmmm. Well, yes. I know. But it's like ya'll got together on a conference call and found the perfect way to torture me, because everyone has tagged me with the exact same meme. And I feel stupid saying "I already did that" and I'm a people-pleaser (damn southern belle gene!) and I feel bad saying no, and so I start a whole new meme answer thingy, with different answers, but I'm not funny the second time around, or the thirteenth, so then I get sidetracked by either my interminable whining or by a cat or maybe some pie, and then... no meme. Yup. Sorry! Forgive me-me?

Q: How do you make fried chicken?
A: THANK GOODNESS you asked, Madeleine, I have been dying to tell someone the only recipe I can actually make all the time without killing anyone or setting anything on fire.

Now, this recipe is for "naked" fried chicken because it has no bone or skin. Just boneless breasts or thighs of chicken. I know this isn't normal or truly southern, but I hate eating things off a bone and cleaning a fryer chicken about makes me ill, so I do it naked-style.

1. Wash chicken pieces thoroughly in cold running water.

2. Soak all chicken overnight in a big bowl (or ziploc bag) full of buttermilk. Yes, buttermilk.

Next day:

1. Combine all-purpose flour with generous amounts of black pepper, Tony Chachere all-seasoning, and cayenne pepper.

2. Remove chicken from buttermilk, place on plate. DO NOT RINSE or pat dry.

3. Heat oil in a big frypan, over a medium-high fire.

4. Put some of the flour mixture in a brown paper bag, add chicken one piece at a time, shake until coated. Place coated pieces on a clean plate.

5. Cover every piece of chicken with flour. When done, take a piece of flour (kind of balled up from the buttermilk) out of the paper bag and drop it into the oil. Oil should sizzle/bubble around it, but not splatter (if it splatters, it's too hot).

6. Place all chicken in the pan. Loosely place a cookie sheet over the frying pan. This gets it somewhat covered, but not too much where condensation causes splattering. I truly do hate splattering.

7. Wait a long, patient amount of time for the chicken to turn golden on one side. Don't turn until it's golden. DO NOT DO IT. Resist temptation. Don't turn the heat up either, it has to be a rolling boil, not a grease fire in the pan.

8. When just golden, turn chicken over.

9. Wait a loooong time for this other side to brown lightly.

10. Flip chicken one last time to brown the "golden" side.

11. Drain on a paper bag layered with paper towels.



OK, have a good Tuesday. If you make fried chicken, invite me over. I'll amuse you with tales of my fingering yarn...

Posted by laurie at July 12, 2005 6:53 AM