An Open Letter to Weather.com

Dear Weather.com: I have some concerns about your website that I wanted to share with you. I've included them in this letter, along with exemplary pictures, for your convenience. Please don't take this the wrong way- consider it constructive, loving criticism from a friend.


First, I'd like to address your handling of the newest threat from our seas, tropical storm Ophelia. 

I can tell you're stressing, weather.com. You've probably got some pretty fabulous banner ads in the making, getting ready to prepare us for the storm with your classic combination of hyperbole and hysteria.  But- and I know how hard this is for you- try not to get too excited this time. Ophelia will probably drown herself before anything terrible happens.*


I also wanted to point out an error in an advertisement I saw on your site. I think someone got the copy wrong. Don't worry- I corrected it for you!

Finally, I'd like to turn to one of your news stories.

Nice job on the green screen!

Let's look a bit closer at this story's headline:

I hate to be so critical, but to this I can have only one reaction: DURRRRRRRRP!


What, exactly, is the speed of thought, Weather.com? How did you measure it? How, for that matter, are you measuring the melting of the arctic ice? It must be melting pretty quickly to go faster than thought. Say I've had 5 thoughts (scientifically abbreviated to th) during the last 10 seconds. That's a 5th/10s ratio, or 1th/s. The rate of the arctic ice melting is about 1 cm per year, or a 1cm/3,556,926s ratio.** Obviously thoughts move much, much much faster than the speed of melting ice in the arctic circle. My scientific conclusion?  Either I'm a genius, or- and I hate to break it to you, Weather.com, since we're such good friends- you may be retarded.


I think the answer to that question is clear.  


I dearly hope this letter hasn't ruined our friendship. I'm afraid that there's a chance I've lost your good opinion, but though it hurts, I'll move on. Luckily, my good opinion of you was lost a long time ago!


Sincerely,


BraveWorldGirl.












*Please tell me you get this joke.
**Statistics and equations brought to you by the Harold Camping Society for Better Math.

More Weird Shit I Did as a Child- the Sculpture Edition.

(I'm going to start this post with an irrelevant story.)

This morning I locked my keys in my car. In my own goddamn driveway.

Granted, this could have happened in worse locations- a dunk'n'donuts on the highway, for instance- so I guess I was lucky in that respect. But still. It's galling, and annoying, and mostly I just feel pretty dumb. This meant that I have been stuck in my house all day, and conceivably will continue to be trapped indoors until either (a) someone comes and rescues me, or (b) my mother comes home with her set of keys.

To entertain myself, I decided to do some baking, a hobby I enjoy but rarely have the time/motivation to indulge. Not only was I going to bake, I decided, but I was going to bake something challenging! I decided on Three Pepper Cookies, which are essentially peppery-sweet cookies dipped in chocolate. Here's the recipe, in case you are curious : http://www.yummly.com/recipe/Three_pepper-Spice-Cookies_-Recipezaar

ANYWAYS. On the left hand corner of the top shelf of my spice cabinet, where no-ones been in, oh, years, was a relic of my childhood. It looked like this:

I sort of vaguely remember crafting this racist-Myan ripoff statue in middle school. I think the assignment was to... actually, I have no idea. I can't think of any topic they would give small children that would result in this. Indo-colonialist stereotypes? It's clearly supposed to be some poor South American tribes-person sacrificing to his pagan god.

World, I apologize for this piece of shit.

Yes, that is a skull. I think. *sighs*. 

But you know what? Everyone has one weird art project as a child, right?

Right?

I was a strange child. 

So I had a big sculpture phase in middle school, ok? Or was it freshman year...
At least this wasn't, you know, blatantly racist. The idea was cool (I thought). It was supposed to look as if you'd picked up a block of water, and then had all the bits of fish swimming around and through it. Except the cube of water looked more like...well, a big heavy box.  With penises sticking out of it.

At least my stuff was better than my brother's.

Of course, he made this in first grade. Don't tell. 

Poaching Eggs: More Difficult Than Anticipated

Yes! I am back!

I could give a whole big paragraph full of excuses about why I haven't updated in, oh, two months. I could go on and on about the minor existential crisis I've had since graduating, working at a discount liquor store, and attempting to face up to the fact that a) I'm not going back to school and b) I need to figure out What To Do With My Life. And the broken computer (several times...), leading to the sexy, sexy new mac currently sitting on my lap. But I won't. You know why?

Because I'm both lazy and shameless.

Instead I'll just jump right back in. I don't know how much I'll be updating or what I'll be updating about. Let's just take this one day at a time.

For the immediate future, I'd like to talk about eggs. Specifically, poached eggs, which are delicious and possibly my favorite way to eat unborn fetuses.

Now, I've poached an egg before. I swear I have. I used to work with an elderly Scicillian man (re: 92 and still driving) who taught me how to do it. Under his tutelage, I managed to poach quite a few- AND THEY WERE DELICIOUS...if a little vinegary.

When a man that old tells you to keep adding vinegar, you listen. It's just possible that he reached such an age by pickling himself, and hey- if it works, it works!

The point is that I used to be quite good at poaching eggs. This morning, however, I had a little difficulty.

See how it's all white and cloudy? That's wrong. 

Now, I don't know if you've ever made a poached egg before. It's really not that hard. Basically, you heat water with a bit of vinegar until it is almost- but not quite- simmering. Then you stir the water rapidly, creating a whirlpool that will serve to wrap the egg around itself, keeping it together. Slide in your egg, wait a few minutes, and BAM. Eggy-goodness.

And so we try again!

After mourning my first attempt I decided to give it another go. On the second try, I had a lot more luck. The trick? I turned up the heat until it was just about simmering, and added a lot bit more vinegar.

Look! Look! It stayed together HALLELUJAH. 

The delicious final product.

And success! To complete my eggy-masterpiece, I ate it atop buttered sticky rice, as they do in Japan when they feel like a 'Western' breakfast. Yummy yummy in my tummy.



Final note: As I sit writing this, I am listening to Lykke Li's 'I Follow Rivers.' It's a good song- if you haven't heard it, click on my link and listen to it. And if you're very lucky, as I am, there will be a bird outside your window chirping on beat with the song.


Final Note 2: Here we have the screen capture du jour. It comes to us from our friends at Facebook advertising.

I'm pretty sure he'd prefer a sandwich.

Ta ta for now, folks! Braveworldgirl OUT.