Pizza my Heart

How easy was it to make pizza?

First, I killed my yeast by adding it to hot water instead of warm water. Then I added flour and waited for my dough to rise. It didn't.

I didn't even use my wine bottle rolling pin, I just kind of stretched it out with my hands and then decorated it. I had to put mushrooms on to keep Clive away. Although, upon re-watching the episode, there were not mushrooms on the pizza! Clive was commenting on the texture of brains! Didn't originally catch that.

So, I make pizza from scratch now. That's just a thing I do! Which means this blog is serving it's purpose.

However, I don't know how to blog about TV. I've just seen the first season so many times at this point.

This time, I would like to acknowledge the lovely Bex Taylor-Klaus for being amazing and I wish Scream was a better show.

I'm glad I keep seeing her pop up in stuff now, seems like she's doing well in Arrow and Voltron.

Other random TV notes: I feel really sorry for Peyton in this episode. A little more that she missed spin class than she found out her friend is a zombie----there's something about that scene that breaks my heart when she sees her friend dissolve in front of her and she can't deal with the personality shifts and doesn't know how to help her anymore.

The last few scenes break my heart for Liv more than anyone else.

ANYWAY, I just found out that Peyton is Aly from ALY AND AJ. I thought wow, I really should have known that...then I thought, I haven't thought about Aly and Aj since 2005...why should I have made the connection.

But I did, and turns out they have a brand new album. So here's a flashback for you:

Remember when everyone's hair was that shade of blonde? Mandy (moor), Lindsay (Lohan), Avril Lavigne, even Jessica Alba was blonde then.

And articles like this were on TMZ

So that was my flashback for you back to 2005/6.

Check out Ali's new stuff. I promise it's more mature.

Here's a story also inspired by 2006

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She shifted her weight on the bed, casting her eyes at the ceiling. “I don’t know. They’re like Panic, but less gay.”

“Panic! At the Disco?” He tried to catch her eye, but couldn’t. Her impenetrable gaze fixed on the ceiling.

“I shouldn’t have said ‘gay’. I just don’t know how else to describe it.”

“Flamboyant.”

She twisted again, finding her way to the laptop, pressing play on a new song.

“See what I mean though?”

“They’re a more masculine Panic! At the Disco.”

She turned to finally meet his eye. “Yeah. Deeper voice, less makeup.”

She had learned to avoid eye contact by fixing her sight on the left eye only. Even with half the gaze, the shock was electric. She looked away. She didn’t want him to know how much she liked that. His soft brown eyes, undivided attention. She didn’t want herself to know how much she liked that.

“I like them.”

She cast half a glance towards him. He was talking about the song.

“Remember this one?” He moved towards the laptop, brushing his arm across her leg in the process. Another emo-pop song from ten years back. Ten years before they met. Ten years before they laid across his king-sized mattress and decided to remember them. Ten years since she had laid back and done nothing other than listen to music. Absorb the sound.

She would have never thought to do this on an evening by herself. Or even with friends. Ten years after the carelessness of high school she was always doing something. She didn’t even watch TV without washing the dishes or painting her nails. She marveled at his ability to make her do nothing. The things you waste your time with when you fall in love.

She had said it. Not out loud and not to him, but in her head. Did that mean she felt it?

She watched him breathe sometimes. How weird was that? How did she have nothing better to do? How did she not have everything better to do?

She had let him inside and now he was growing. If she thought of a way to describe her feelings it would be ‘insidious’. Maybe not poisonous, maybe not harmful, but certainly taking over. And wasn’t that the point? That this would all eventually harm her?

They took walks together. Pointless, aimless walks, but they moved together. Their feet, their rhythm in sync. They didn’t need to speak. They didn’t need to hold hands. Just let their knuckles occasionally brush and know that the fresh brisk air was filling both their lungs. But one day, she’d walk a little faster, or him a little slower. The sync would break, and their rhythms would be different. They might not even notice until they were blocks apart. It was doomed to happen no matter what commitments they made to each other.

If that was true, why break it now? Why not let the seconds drift away while listening to shitty emo tunes or wrestling podcasts instead of sleeping.