Applejack

one of you will know this song very well. a ballad sung by the infamous dolly parton, you, my dear friend, who suffered through this song all the way to idaho and back, will probably give a slight shudder as you remember the several hundred times the cassette was rewound to hear this song 'one more time'. with the chipper chirp of dolly singing, "play one for me, applejack!" warbling in the background, we (meaning all the minors in the vehicle, who being minors, had no control over the music played) grew more and more sick of the song. soon, we were dreaming about applejack, thinking about applejack and his banjo, and wishing that death would come to the happy little cassette that was tantalizingly out of reach in the front of the car.
this song, thankfully, almost died after that car trip to idaho. it was heard rarely, if ever. occasionally, though, it would come back, still as peppy as ever. one of these instances was today, on the way home from church. i clambered into the car, happy, oblivious as to what was about to take place. settling myself into the back seat, right next to the speakers, i waited expectantly for some good loud music to come on. what did come on shocked me beyond belief. a slow banjo solo started, deceptively soft at first, then grew into an outstanding thunderous symphonious type sound in mere seconds. my poor ears cried for mercy as dolly launched into her song, for the thousandth time, and i sobbed heartily, begging my mother to turn it off. she simply smiled and turned it up louder. grinning, my little sister who had stolen the front seat from me tossed back a badminton racket, and began miming a seasoned banjo picker. shrugging, i figured, why not? with gusto, i played that racket like never before. belting out apple jack with all my heart, we sang all the way home, and it was fun.

sadly, i can't embed this video, so i shall just link you, so you can hear the wondrous melody of "applejack"



muaha



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Nv8hHcJyqY&mode=related&search=


~m.r.p.

Assistant Traffic Control Clerk Monitor

that's my title, don't wear it out. as i expertly guided my grandfather's truck, he bestowed this appellation upon me, and i now wear it with pride.
monitoring being over with though, i am currently drowning my sorrows in a glass of stale Life cereal, and 2% milk. i don't actually have any sorrows, other than the fact that YNH isn't available to speak at me, but i thought it sounded good. so i wrote it. i think i may clean the kitchen now, cause it's messy. and it'd give me a good reason to be up. so! i shall!

*ahem*

well, it's been a while, my faithful readers. for that, i express my deepest apologies, and your truly grovels on the carpet in anguish and shame. hm. i just realized i have nothing to say. i'm sure i'll come up with something though. ;)
drat, my music keeps stopping, and then starting again. has that ever happened to you? where the bar hasn't quite finished loading, but it's partially complete, so it jumps right in and starts to play, only to find out ten seconds into the song that it needs to rest and buffer some more. erg. so frustrating. i suppose i could just start the song over again, cause now it'll load at a pace that's fast enough for the song to catch up with it. HA! that's what i did, and now, my dear readers, my music no longer skips and jerks splenetically. ha, that is such a cool word. i love it. "Splenetic!" "You're such a splenetic!!" "spleneeeeeeeeetic..." anyways.... haha, wooo...
so, i made cake. it had no eggs. no milk. no baking powder. the substitute for these ingredients was, of all things, vinegar. what kind of cake, you may ask, is that? well, i asked that too, but as it had rave reviews from the seventy odd people who reviewed it, i rolled up my sleeves, gritted my teeth, and tried it. two minutes later, my batter was complete. (amazing how much time is spent retrieving, cracking, and cursing over eggs.) eyebrow quirked in doubt, i gazed down at my watery batter that stank like vinegar, and sadly slopped it into a pan. sliding it into the oven, i baked it for the called-for thirty minutes. sliding it back out, i flinched as the batter remained throughly soupy. returning it, i checked back in ten minutes. it was firmer now, but the edges were beginning to curl and blacken, while the middle still remained a jolly liquid. snarling at the computer that had given me this recipe, i waited a little longer, and finally couldn't contain myself. snatching the poor cake out of the oven, i rescued the crispy black edges. thankfully, the center was now, for the most part, cooked. i waited for it to cool off, and when i had decided it had had enough time, i cut myself a generous square. no wait, it wasn't really a square, the sides weren't all equal, and i doubt my imprecise cutting created an equiangular deal. ( :P )
i took a big bite of it, and immediately gagged. it was horrible. the vinegar hadn't quite cooked out, or something, and it tasted disgusting. the chocolate was a meager, scant flavor, acting more like an afterthought than the actual amazing taste-bud waker-upper it was supposed to be. going online, i severely upbraided the seventy odd reviewers who claimed it was good, and delivered a harsh review of my own, condemning eggless, milkless and baking-powderless cake for all eternity. sighing in disappointment, i covered my cake up, and went to bed, nearly crying myself to sleep over the tragedy that had just occurred in my beloved kitchen.
the next morning, i awoke. obviously. it's what one does most every morning. but, i digress. going downstairs, i looked at my pitiful cake. nearly half of it was gone. vanished! missing. unaccounted for in fact. puzzled, i tried a nibble, and was shocked. the vinegar had all vaporized out, and the chocolate taste had richened to an enormous degree. it now tasted like chocolate cake! overjoyed, i danced happily in the kitchen until people told me to stop, or i'd hurt someone. obeying, i smiled happily at my cake, thoroughly pleased.
the moral of this story, my dear readers, is to wait a bit before posting an astringent review online.

~m.r.p.