Madame Gravy Goes to Washington.

We know I've been a Cranky McLeafhater this Fall - a pumpkin-flavored thing hasn't touched my lips, been wearing sandals with my jackets, shaking my fist at your decorative front porch mums.  But I think I finally turned my attitude around thanks to a short vacation last week to DC.

My goal was to be spiritually transformed by some leaves and eat something pumpkin and generally be less of a jerk.  I think all of those things happened but at least I know that I Instagrammed those things that made it look like I was spiritually transformed.

However, the only pumpkin thing I've had so far was a piece of stale pumpkin loaf from an airport Starbucks which was still good I don't give a shit.  I love pumpkin and I don't care how much people on the internet make fun of white girls liking pumpkin I'M PROUD TO BE A PALE, PUMPKIN APPRECIATOR!

Well, I like pumpkin but not the part about sounding like a white supremecist...

Aaaanypunkins, I also ate some pho for the first time which makes kinda does make me sound like some kind of white supremecist hillbilly but we do not have these fancy things in Chattavegas!

It far surpassed the stale pumpkin loaf I had and was so delicious I don't even care if you make fun of me for Instagramming my food.  Us hillbillies gotta get it where we can.

To make up for it here are some moderately better pictures of places we've all seen a thousand times.  YOU'RE WELCOME.

But don't ask me what these things are because I have about the same level of tourism depth as I do reading comprehension: ZERO.

That's probably why I've been so spotty with my blogging - I barely have the reading comprehension to process my OWN writing.  Chew on that for a while ooh look is that more pho over there?!

ONWARD TOWARDS MORE PHO!

Is that pho heartburn or is that the tingle as my soul begins to be transformed by Autumn's splendor?

I want a pair of these dudes to flank my front porch.  It's a thousand times better than mums.

Look!  A place!  In another city!  I love travel.

I like DC - it's a real city that is easy to walk around in and is a short flight from Chattanooga.  This means that all the gays are going there to get married and I actually bumped into a couple I know doing exactly that on my same flight.  I'm calling this route the Equality Express now. 

Because fuck you, Tennessee.

But it wasn't all important monuments and buildings I won't remember, I got my nature on too!  I can't remember who's in that statue but I remember metro stops and that these pictures are from Great Falls.

I can't go anywhere without seeing at least SOME rocks.  If I can get there using the handicap accessible trail which I may have done.  

If you look close at the bottom in the middle you'll see a kayaker.  That's as close to I will ever get to living on the edge - WATCHING someone else kayak.  It definitely got my heart pumping.  Much like it does when there are pumpkin flavored things nearby.

Aaaand... I think I'm finally in the holiday spirit.  I had to spend a few days in Texas before going home and I couldn't even wear my sandals with my jacket there it was so cold.  It really is a different season now and Mother Nature said no takesies backsies so we're doing this.

But now that means I have to actually do something with the leaves in my yard instead of pretending magical summer fairies will come and take them away.

You know what this means, y'all?  MOTHERFUCKING CHRISTMAS IS TOMORROW.

See you at the mall.  Please leave me a slice of stale pumpkin loaf.  It's all that will sustain me through the rest of this holiday season.

I want this on a keychain...

Star-spangled spatula by J. Riley-Wasserman for Areawear via Minus Manhattan

The only way to show you're a real patriot is to sear your mangled pile of dead cow with our nation's two-dimensional glory. 

And then Instagram that shit so we can all be motherfucking patriots together and incestuously 'Like' everyone else's pics just like that bad bitch Betsy Ross would have wanted us to do.

Have a great holiday filled with fireworks (of whatever kind you choose) and I'll see you on the flip side.

*sparkle*

Operation Turkey Destroyer

Welcome back, fellow carb loaders and shopping sadists!  I hope everyone's temporary binge eating/spending holiday was successful and full of gravy.  Mine was successful but not full of gravy.  *grumpy cat face*

Due to some scheduling conflicts the normal family plan wasn't an option.  It was suggested that we all go have Japanese food on Thanksgiving and then anarchy ensued so I offered to host.  

I utilized plants. FROM THE OUTSIDE.

I was the only one starting the anarchy but I think it was warranted considering the situation.  The situation being that my family apparently hates America and delicious food.  But in the spirit of the peaceful agreement during the first Thanksgiving between Charlie Brown's tribe and the Tea Party Republicans, we all found something in common (other than DNA) by letting me host.  

However, I would not be serving traditional Thanksgiving fare.  As long as I didn't eat fried rice from a laminate table next to a hibachi grill on one of my favorite holidays then I guess I would be okay.

Italian also seemed the the easiest option because at least one or all of these people didn't like green things, all manner of vegetables, onions, spicy things, garlic, nuts, herbs or really any other food that I like.  See ya next time, Brussels sprouts.  Approved items are red meat or bacon, cheese (only of the cheddar variety), ranch dressing and pasta.

So I made lasagna.  Meat, cheese, pasta.  No ranch dressing.  You can't get any more crowd-pleasing than that.  I also made an Italian green bean salad AND an actual salad for the two people that wanted it.  Me and me.  It had cranberries in it because FOR THE LOVE OF GAWD, GIVE ME SOMETHING, ANYTHING.

Everything turned out fine and I'll have to keep all the really saucy stuff private of course but the whole dinner can be summed up by the fact that I drank wine during our meal and they drank Mountain Dew.  Ah, family.  

The Disney Forest Noir tablescape was toned down to something a little more tasteful (tasteful if you're the kind of person who likes Mountain Dew that is).  It was really nothing more than a piece of Thomas Paul fabric I found years ago at a junk store for a few bucks used as a tablecloth (selvedge still there - no one noticed) with a cutting board and some shiny things on top.  Total cost: $0.  Cost to my design blogger status: to be determined.

The full spread looked better than this but I totally forgot to take a picture of it before the real meal.  The hot cheese was distracting...  But I did eat some leftovers near the leftover tablescaping so just add in some more dramatic elements to the pictures here to make it more glamorous in your head.

Lacking a  Martha Stewart-style cornucopia of glitter and sequins on the table, we did get to use my mom's gold tone flatware from the '60s which is one of my 'grab in a fire' items.  The other items being my favorite fleece pajama pants and that one picture of me from high school where I looked like Drew Barrymore.  I don't want to let anyone forget that that moment happened.

Canape plates from West Elm (last year's Xmas present from me to me)

Other than flashy utensils, my favorite part of the meal was dessert.  I don't normally bake but I had to do something for the special occasion.  I decided to try a pumpkin tiramisu because it seemed to fit with the theme and by gawd I was going to force some traditional flavors into these people's mouths whether they liked it or not.

It only partially worked because some people didn't know what tiramisu was so they opted out.  Swing and a miss for the Madame.  But *I* thought that shit was fantastic so there was more for me.  I used this recipe but doubled the spices and brushed the lady fingers in a mixture of coffee and maple syrup because that seemed like a good idea.  I couldn't find Amaretti cookies because I live in the middle of fucking nowhere so I crumbled Biscoff cookies on top.  What, WHAT?!  I patted myself on the back for that one.

Other than cook and eat I did nothing over the holiday except watch movies about gay bears on Netflix and stay locked in the house.  Kinda like a normal weekend.  Except I started putting up MY CHRISTMAS TREE!!!!!!!

Thanksgiving you are dead to me now.  

Except if any of y'all have leftover turkey and dressing.  Even some cranberry sauce out of the can, I don't care.  I'll trade you some lasagna for it...

I'd love to hear your favorite Thanksgiving recipes so I can drool over them and dream about next year when I get a new family.  A family that likes food and tells me I look like Drew Barrymore all the time.

America is so trending right now.

Maybe I've finally reached the climax of pastels from this summer because I need to look at some normal colors that come from a color wheel and not ones that are shat out of a Care Bear's candy ass.  Kinda like that million dollar coffee bean that is only made after an Indonesian monkey shits out the undigested beans.  

That's where we get neon peach from, y'all.  Color scienze.

And as much as I hate to admit it I'm kinda drawn to the darling of remedial color theory: blue and red.  

via The Glamourai I think...

I know, I know.  

It probably has something to do with the pride I feel for America winning the Olympics and the fact that I shoot guns now so I'm super into dry-humping bald eagles and shotgunning Mountain Dew and other American shit.  

This video for Of Monsters and Men's Little Talks is trying to hypnotize me:

I also like red and blue with gold because AMERICA WINS ALL THE GOLD!  Maybe I'm a poor loser but if the US of A doesn't lead the medal count in the Olympics I get so fucking pissed off.  This is why the rest of the world hates us/me.  

I forgot where I got these gifs.  Pretty sure it was the internet, though.

Maybe y'all are tired of this video but I see one video a year so SHUT UP!  Also, fireworks!  Because they make me cry.  For America.  And for sparkly things.

Michelle Dockery from Love magazine via Bohemea

Ladies, let's have a makeup party at the MS Ranch and all do this.  I've got some old kabuki makeup (well, it's just baby powder) and the red eyeshadow (who doesn't?!) so you bring the blue hair dids and we'll Instagram the shit out of our drunken makeovers.

here

Not sure what this is but it looks like donuts and I'm cool with that.

via Sisterwolf

Um, best bellydance belt ever.  I guess we can just start piling our laundry on our heads now...?  I'm down with that.

Joana Salta

Rainbow mini blinds?  I... I... I kinda like it.  *hangs head in shame*

Toast via Solid Frog

Laundry that you could pile on your head if you wanted to.  Just sayin...

Paolo Reversi via Just To Refresh the Mind

Pinterest ate the source. : (

Just a quick shot I took of myself.  I love red and blue so much it makes me toss my hair a lot and pretend to suck my thumb. (?)

source?

Meow.

Adam Juresko

You know what America also won this past week?  MOTHERFUCKING SPACE, Y'ALL.  If Mars is red and earth is kinda blueish does that still work with my color theme?  Gawddamn I'm really good at this.

Krzysztof Wladyka via MPD

Mogollon via Yatzer

Pegasus by Loredana Gasparotto on Saatchi

here

 This is starting to get a little orange.  Let's bring it back home...

via The Frisky

Because America.

In unrelated news and in honor of the flaming homo above, I've temporarily renamed my vagina after another homo: Justin Beaver.  I'll probably dye my pubic hair to match the American flag.  It's the most patriotic thing I can think of right now.  

I really commit to a theme.

Now where's my bald eagle??!!

Honoring America's greatest treasure: National Food Pornologist Day

Thanksgiving is a day to recognize the what really makes our country great - the food pornologists.  Put away your shirts with buttons, adorn yourself in your dressiest sweat pants, let that muffin top loose and prepare your reserve stash of napkins because the gravy is about to runneth over, motherfuckers! 

Onto your pants.

[Insert timely Monica Lewinsky joke]

You holiday food whore, you.

I love Thanksgiving not only because it is the gateway drug to Christmas - my favoritest time of the year - but because it is an exercise in logistics.  Fuck portion control and the 'no thanks, I've had enough" attitude of quitters and fascist assholes, there is a science to properly forcing Gastronomic Olympic-sized amounts of food into your body in a way that will allow you to do it over and over again.  

For a day every November, I'm like a binge eating scientist for the ole US of A.  A Six Sigma black belt of food-to-stomach engineering.  It takes a master's degree in physics to figure out exactly how much food I can shove in my face hole to maximize repeated deliciousity.  Fortunately I have all of those qualifications because this is America gawddamit!   A magic land of opportunity where I can be a whore for casseroles AND a super smart scientist of food things because of feminism and all.  It's called progress.   

And according to manifest destiny I WILL look yonder to the end of that table and annihilate every casserole in my path towards total and utter gluttonous success.  I will shed my horribly restrictive shackles (pants) and crawl along the table righteously and gloriously over the hillbilly mountains of squash casserole, past the ashes of Sherman's destruction and the shallow remnants of gluey mashed potatoes while I hum the Battle Hymn of the Republic and salute thee, oh gravy.  

Past the carcasses of our fallen brethren and a deep-fried fowl and onward through the plundered fields of green bean casserole I will stake my claim just like Tom Cruise in Far and Away - that documentary about American pioneer Scientologists.

On a covered wagon through the western desserts of crumbly cornbread dressing washed down with cranberry sauce, I will dry hump that empty casserole dish hard enough enough to give it smallpox because I'm also a medical doctor for the day and that's exactly how that works according to the time I spent in 8th grade playing Oregon Trail.

Finally, to the far reaches of our golden coast of the dining table where Paula Deen awaits me with ooey gooey pumpkin cakes and a stick of butter she will annoint our naked bodies with while we writhe ceremoniously to the beat of Native American drums and gourds filled with dried beans played by Taylor Swift.  A bald eagle will drop bits of pie into our upturned mouths.  Mouths hungry for tradition and sticky sweet goodness - desires born of a world built upon cans of sweetened condensed milk and cheese logs.  

We will not stop with the ceremonious writhing until all of the offerings have been consumed to honor Marthia, the gawdess of hearth and insulin production and Amazonitus, the gawd of Black Friday deals.  Our frenzied ritual will end in the greatest orgasmisplosion of fireworks that our founding fathers Abraham Lincoln and the baby jeezus have ever seen.  

With Reddi Wip on top.

What I'm saying is, I am rather partial to Thanksgiving fare and can't wait to finally cook some holiday meals in my new kitchen.  

Here is one thing I will cook in it for National Ford Pornologist Day:

I almost creamed my sweat pants when I saw this recipe for cream-braised Brussels sprouts via the always delicious Orangette.

It's better if the cream comes from the teat of Marthia but sometimes it's hard to find.  

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all.  Hug a food pornologist this week.  For America.  

But not too tight - they might explode and then that would be a waste of science.

Today, everyone from the Let's Blog Off gang - that rag tag group of bloggers that convene every two weeks - is talking about Thanksgiving.  Go here to be a voyeur on everyone else's thoughts about National Food Pornologist Day.