Feeling Blueberries & Going Coconuts Freedom Toast

Shit, I forgot to take a picture with the syrup on it.

It's unusual for me to cook breakfast food as well being a rarity for me to make sugary food since I'm NOT a morning person and don't have a sweet-tooth.  Last night, while watching the Olympics, I found myself rooting for other countries due to getting irritated with seeing the smug mugs of American athletes.  So, I've named this Freedom Toast in an attempt to be more patriotic.

This was supposed to be a nice breakfast for my BF. Yesterday I had grandiose plans of waking up a little early to do some chores and serve him breakfast in bed... But I was too depressed this morning to peel my blue ass from bed until almost noon.  As soon as I woke up, depressing thoughts rushed into my head, nailing me to my bed:  The weekend is meaningless if you don't have a job.  No family or friends will be visiting, why clean?  Thus, it became brunch, and the blueberries were added to compliment my mood.     Boom.

The coconut bread was freshly baked at the 99 Ranch bakery, an Asian grocery store in South Sac.  My hapa foodie friend Ally recommended it to me, so I gave it a whirl despite having a slight paranoia (racist ideas) about the (lack of) cleanliness in non-white bread grocery stores.  

I decided to use coconut milk because soy milk tastes like chalky water when used for cooking purposes.  We aren't lactose intolerant... cow's milk is just gross until it becomes cheese.

2.5 tbsp butter

1/2 Loaf of coconut bread

4 small eggs from neighbor's chickens

1/2 can light coconut milk 

some cinnamon

powdered sugar

blueberries

maple syrup

Melt the butter in the microwave in a shallow bowl.  Add in the butter, coconut milk, eggs, & cinnamon beat with a fork until smooth.  Dip bread in mixture, toss on pan or griddle immediately. After the first side is cooked, flip it and add blueberries to pan (shake them around) until second side is done.  top with powdered sugar and maple syrup.  take a picture, and then eat it.

Job Hunting Olympics: The Asshole Hurdles

Alright, that's IT!  There will be no more pretending to act or dress"conservative" at interviews.  

Next interview, I'll be the "Don'ts" girl...  MEOW!

That nuisance of an old bleeding liberal heart of mine is permanently attached to my sleeve and is apparently evident regardless of my efforts to hide it under a nice suit blazer.  

Today's event is the Asshole Hurdles... In which the ultimate goal is to find a job in which your boss or manager is NOT an asshole.  Good luck with this one.  Good luck even if you're your own boss, you asshole.   

The First Heat...  (The first interview)

In an an attempt to maintain some semblance of my own professionalism, (even if I no longer abide with my attire) and also for fear of getting sued for libel, for the purposes  this article, the "Boss" will be referred to as "Dan" or "DQ" (as in Quale) and the company will be referred to as "Housing Bubble". 

After a firm handshake (on my part) and brief introduction, DQ and I sat down at the conference table.  Right out of the gate, DQ graciously declared: "So what have you heard about me?  Anything like (that) I'm hard to work for?"  I replied honestly that I had not heard anything about the position  or the company outside of a brief job description.  Dan continued: "Well, I'm kinda an asshole to work for."  Um... Thanks for the warning?

I had made it to the first Asshole hurdle.  The asshole who prides himself in being an asshole is also known as a narcissist asshole.  Luckily, one of my previous bosses was this kind, so I was not discouraged and leaped over gracefully.  Bring it on, Buddy!

At this point, I'm a bit more tenacious in my Interview game... it's been months of job searching now, and my interview skills have been sharpened by previous HR experience.   If you decide to stick around to learn more about what brand of asshole someone is gloating about being, don't be surprised by the answer.  But never underestimate the assholishness of a chubby, middle-aged guy, in an argyle sweater, on a 70 degree day.  

DQ explained the position in further detail; regulatory compliance; a paper-pushing job which was created by the government to make his business more of a pain in the ass to run, costing him time and money, and making him angry(er).  In other words, the job was created out of necessity to monitor the type of predatory lending that fueled the last housing market crash.  I was cool with that.  So what other benefits does the company have to offer, Dan?

DQ:  This isn't a political statement, but... Our premiums tripled because of Obamacare, so unfortunately we don't have any. 

Me:   Well, that's okay DQ, I have insurance through my partner's insurance, so I'm not looking for that.  How about advancement within the company?  

DQ:  We are a very family-oriented business here.  We would like someone to stay for at least five years, and not run out after a year if they find something better.  By partner do you mean a domestic partner?  A female?

Me:  Yes, my boyfriend and I have been together for 9 years and his company allows us to share health insurance.

DQ:   Oh, that's okay... my wife and I were together for 7 years before we got married.

Glad that is okay with you, DQ.  

This is when I tripped over the next asshole hurdle.  I face-planted.  "Took a wicked diggah!", as they say in Maine.  

DQ:    So do you have kids?  

Me:   Yes, four legged-kids.

DQ:   (Who doesn't crack a smile at my (half) joke.)  Everyone here has family, and they're in and out of the office, we're very family-oriented.

I won't even bother to write any more about this interview, because as you have probably figured out by now, I haven't heard back from them.  It's a damn shame that I lack family values.  Otherwise I might not have lost this event.

At least I've figured out what my next tattoo will be... And it's not an asshole.