I Got Your Cup of Cheer Right Here

And I spiced it with cinnamon and nutmeg!

In ages past, I hated Christmas.  The Shopping Season emphasized everything about my culture that I absolutely despised, with the added feelings on intense disappointment in my family when they didn't give me what I requested.*  I remember a December when I received exactly nothing on my list, and I thought my family was a bunch of jerks who thought they knew better than me.  I was thirteen or something, so just about anyone other than my brother did know better than me, but that didn't stop my from being an angry little snotrag about it.

I abandoned this feeling of disappointment a few years later for a whole new feeling of disappointment in humanity as expressed in American media.  This feeling was only intensified by being unable to buy anything for the people I wanted to give stuff.  I was in boarding school and then college, and any money I made during the summer didn't last longer than my short-sighted budget.  The only gift that I bought that I still remember and feel somewhat good about was a special mug I bought for my dad when I was a sophomore.**

I wanted to be happier during this time, because I like my family, for the most part.  I like visiting them, and we have fun together, despite my brother's attempts to ruin everything with plans.  I found it hard to be cheerful when I was bombarded with scenes of utter assholery in malls and on television.  Basically, I was angry because Christmas was a constant reminder of how I wasn't a kid anymore.  I couldn't just sit in a pile of wrapping paper and experience sheer joy anymore.  The world was sitting on my head, just crapping all  over any fun I might have had.

Something changed in 2008.  No, not something, someone.  I was trying to win back a woman I had wronged, and I had this idea, inspired by Gene Hackman in Heist, that if I wanted to be a better version of me, maybe I could just fake it.  I'm a pretty good liar on a bad day, so I thought maybe I would change the way I lie to myself.  Maybe if I pretend to be a better person, I'll eventually be that better person, and I won't have to keep pretending.  I'm not 100% there yet, but I'm not pretending anymore.

Part of this whole thing was that I realized that I was over Christmas.  If other people want to run around and be assholes to each other in malls and parking lots, so be it.  I'm just gonna make cookies, not send them to my friends, and eat the hell out of them.***  I'll invite my friends over for rum drinks, cookies, pie, and the Star Wars Holiday Special.  I'll try to find one or two small, meaningful, little gifts for my people.  Or maybe I'll make something to give.

The short of this is that I can also enjoy holiday music again.  This is much easier when i am not out in the world, but even when I am in the world, I just tune it out.  I just play Mahna Mahna on constant loop in the jukebox of my subconscious, and I move through the world.  I could have written a much shorter version of this post by just typing, OMG HOLIDAY MUSIC MASH-UPS HERE!!!1111!!1!!

*  There's a paradox somewhere in there that a kid might miss for a few years.
**  Much like a certain lamp, I'm pretty sure my mother introduced this mug to Mr. Baseballbat, and Mr. Backyard.
***  One of these years, I'm gonna mail some cookies to some friends, and those friends will be so frigging impressed.  Some jokes aren't worth it.

Just Chuck Full of the Fucking Spirit Am I

I am unironically enjoying Kathleen's Holiday Radio Pandora channel again this year. I am trying not to be such an unrelenting curmudgeon, and I have to say that it is pretty freaking tough. I hope the two people I might see this holiday season fucking appreciate how nice I am being.

So I am inflicting my amazing cookies, if such a meager word can define these scrumdiddilyumptious morsels of pure alien insanity, on a group of friends and relatives tomorrow. My brother and I are hosting an intimate gathering to eat cookies, drink hot booze with spices, and watch holiday movies. Everyone else thinks that we are going to watch Christmas Vacation, but I know better. We are going to watch the horrifying and evil holiday special that can only match the evil in my cookies, if such a pathetic word can be used to describe the immortal hellscape that has been reduced to a bite-sized confection.

Additionally, why wasn't I informed of this earlier?

UPDATE: We only made it through 35 to 40 minutes of the Special, and even that only because my brother started fast forwarding through the parts containing no human dialogue.

Mmmmm Bake-Off Cookies...

So once again, I declare myself the winner of the 2008 E-True Holiday Cookie E-Bake Off tm. Mendacious D made a spuriously solid attempt at unseating the champion, but ultimately failed as his concocted confection was slightly off. I think his Wormwood-root-embellished-East-Prussian-truffle-flaked-creme-brule puffs went bad in the time it took them to reach me. He did have them sent by African carrier pigeon, so he gets points for style, but loses points for stagflation of flavor.

As for my entry, I went with my traditionally sinful-extragalactic sugar cookies. Of course, they were fantastic again. I would even go so far as to say that what remains of my mind was shattered even further and into teenier, tinier pieces than the last time I followed the Recipes of the Mad Arab. I experienced some oddly coherent visions while tripping back through the doorways of my mind, trekking past the mouth of madness, the tongue of inconceivability, the tastebuds of infinite esoterocity. I will commit these visions to paper and relay them to you through this electronoscopic ether in due time. William Shatner may or may not feature heavily in these visions, as may spandex skirts. Or mayhaps not.

Should you like a trip down memory lane:
The second post.
The third post.
The fourth post.
And I'll leave it up to you to find the confessional post. I once again state that it was all totally worth it.

Holiday Bake-Off: Confection Confessions

Yeah, um, so...

I ate most of my cookies, as did Super Secret Awesomegirl and my family.

What can I say? I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL.

This time, I might actually send them out, or I might just talk mighty amounts of trash. AGAIN.

In any event, my cookies will rock your face and melt your mind.

There and Bake Again and The Lord of the Confections

As I have made abundantly and belligerently clear, I made some fucking amazing, fandangtastic, scrumbumdiddlyumptious cookies for the Holiday Bake-Off 2007 cookie contest.

I secured tins for these mightily addicting concoctions of absolute sweetness, one each per judging location. I carefully wrapped my cookies, if such a meager word can be used in the description of my creations, in layers of wax paper so that they would travel securely and arrive uncrumbed. I sealed the tins with packing tape, so that they would not dry out and stalefy while in angel's flight to their sweet princes and princesses of judgery.

I made one critical error in this process. I took them to a store with which I have a somewhat troubled history. One of the brothers of indeterminate number was a former employee of this shipping and packing establishment. This may have had something to do with the events that happened next.

I paid for a detailed packing job with involving bubble wrap and a box to convey my cookies, if such an ordinary word can be used in the description of my creations. The unfortunate events happened after I paid a high price for security and shipping and left the store. Somehow, a "miscommunication" and a "misunderstanding" lead my tins of cookies to be wrapped in a paper bag, labeled, and shipped. This faulty, insufficient, and EXPENSIVE label tore off during shipment. The packages were sent back to the store whence they came and I was notified over the Christianic Holy Weekend of Saturnalia of this "MISTAKE".

"OMG!"
"WTF!"
I exclaimed with a clamor!
How could this be? I prepared with such rigor!

On the day I arrived in the store to inquire after the packages I had hoped would be enshrined on the judges' mantles, I met two employees. Two employees who were having a lovely day eating my cookies, if such an insignificant word can be used in the description of my creations. THEY WERE EATING MY FUCKING COOKIES. They were eating my fucking cookies. They were eating the cookies over which I had slaved and slaved. They were eating the carefully written messages of hope! They were eating my good tidings! They were eating my in jokes! They were eating my cobagz! They were eating my fucking cookies!

I retained a leash upon my temper and did not succumb to the temptation to burn the building to the ground and salt the earth upon which it stood. I asked them why they had opened my pakcage and begun eating the contents. They said that they had found them on the counter and thought the tins were gifts for having to work the day after the holy day. I called the manager and she flew down with a dash. We exchanged unpleasantries and harsh words. I am ashamed to admit that at one point I implied physical violence after she admitted that she might have had something to do with the faulty packing job. An offhand comment to a new employee resulted in the completely worthless paper bag packing job.

In the end, I was refunded the money that I spent on the packing ($60). The manager gave me a song and dance about the shipping fees and how the store was not a franchise, it was a corporate location and she could not offer refunds for the shipping in this situation. She also said that since I had not insured the packages that she was not liable for her employees eating them. I was apoplectic with rage and told her to, "eat a steaming pile of dogshit" and gave her a suggestion as to where she could find some. Then I left.*

I was enraged!
I was infuriated!
I left the store in a huff,
I let loose a mighty bellow!

I was sad!
I was mad!
I wanted to run in the buff,
I was indeed not mellow!

The truly disappointing part was that my cookies will never be tasted by judges and declared without doubt the winners for all time, all universes, and all realities. I was able to bring some to my other brother's, of indeterminate number, house for consumption by his family and my aunt. They all thought they were amazing and extremely impressed. My brother's mother in law, a grandmother, asked if I had used beer in the recipe, but if I had she didn't mind because they were excellent. My aunt, another grandmother, also said that these cookies were wonderful and was surprised that I had produced a cookie, if such a boring word can be used in the description of my creations, of such quality.

Since both of these women are grandmothers and since everyone agrees that grandma made the best cookies, I feel safe in declaring myself the Winner In Absentia of the Holiday Bake-Off 2007.

WANT

Bethesda Softworks hosted a junket for Fallout 3. Goddamn, I hope this game comes out and doesn't pull a Duke Nukem Forever. Even better? Fallout 3 takes place in DC. I can't wait to visit my neighborhoods, new and old, and blast some radioactive mutants off my various lawns.

Also, Gabe at Penny Arcade hosted a different kind of cookie contest and I think we should totally sue or something. That link is full of pictures that are totally not safe for work and I recommend we sue Penny Arcade for that, too.

Breaking News in the Holiday Cookie Bake-Off 2007 Conspiracy!

Eastern Judge Admits to Bribery! Scandal! Is the Western Judge similarly loose with morals and ethics? She has yet to deny these allegations and some might exclaim that it is irresponsible to toss accusations around the internets despite having solid proof of the perptrators, but The Genius knows that it would be irresponsible NOT to allege and accuses willy-nilly and hidey-ho!

You, loyal minions, must judge these judges guilty on your own recognizance and with what meager mental faculites you can muster.

The Cookie Cutters I Wish I Had

These may be better served in a different kind of Bake-off.

Cookie Packages Now In System of Tubes

The UPS Store down the street from my office has possession of my contest winning cookies. I hope all the rest of you losers have sent out return slips and are un-submitting your terrible, un-winning cookies.

Can your pans of flan hope to beat a cookie in the shape of a cobag with appropriate art in the frosting? No.

Can your balls of spicy chocolate hope to defeat my Nibbles: In Memoriam Memorial Cookie? No.

Can your loaves of prepared crisps possibly hope to defeat my awesome cobagitating confections? No.

My cookies frighten conservatives into submission, the AEI has added these pastries to their annual watch list! You can't win!

Other Cookie Pictures, Perhaps Less Amusing Than Before

Cookie Jesus gives you the thumbs up

and also wishes peace on earth to those cobagz who maybe don't deserve it.

Expect the packages, judges, for they fly on swift couriers. Ask not for whom The Genius bakes, he bakes for thee.

Cookie Contest 2007 Anticipated Ship Date is Today

I will be mailing out my amazing and contest-winning cookies later today. Expect more pictures. I had to make a second batch of cookies because some frigging gorging bastard broke into my apartment and ate all the previous cookies. Seriously. I should have mailed those cookies that moment the icing cooled because I couldn't help myself. The taste test sort of turned into a spot-on impersonation of Cookie Monster.

In other words:

I MAID U A COOKIE BUT I EATED IT ALL.

The first batch was not up to my exacting standards anyway. The second batch is far superior to mortal man and has at least five asses. Oh shit, I just realized that I wish I had made a half-assed cookie. I did make some Cookie Jesuses (Jesi?) and they turned out well-ish. Pictures to come once I get this frigging USB stick to read.

From Hell's Heart, I Bake At Thee

PUUUUUUNNKKKOOOOOO!

Ahem.

Tonight, I bake-a da cookies. You like-a da cookies? I include a picture of some of the ingredients I used:


You will notice the slimy tentacles of my master creeping over and around the flour and sugar. I can not prevent the invasion of His Great and Grotesquely Alien Dimension from seeping into my kitchen. My mixing bowl summons forth the Shoggoth and Mi-Go like moths to the bright candle flame of my Master's terrible glory. MY soul is lost and yours soon will be.

Here you can see the shapeless mass, approaching horrific sentience:


I can barely contain it with three spoons. Thankfully, I have been granted a third tentacular appendage with which to stir my Master's newest assault on sanity. This caustic mixture consumed and annihilated my assistant's mixer. The motor could not long operate within a greater universe that includes a hexadecimal dimension of time and space and imploded, singeing my assistant greatly. It would not be the last wound suffered in the service of my Master.

I am not sure what this is, but it has no place in this contest:

Or does it?

Blue Girl, what is best in baking? I'll tell you: To roll your dough, see it spread before you, and hear the lamentations of the icing.


Some claim to be able to see Jesus in a corn chip or a tortilla, I see secret messages in the icing on my cookies:




What does it mean? The world may never know. My unknown and unknowable Master commanded that I prepare suitable vessels for His terrible confections:


Helob gives her/his/bird/spider's usual opinion: Needs More Crickets.



I predict the esteemed Judges of the Hallowed Holiday Bake-Off will react thusly:

Cookie Contest 2007 Ingredient List

As promised, my ingredient list for my entry in the 2007 Cookie Contest:

5 pound bag of sugar
5 pound bag of flour
5 pound bag on unbleached flour
5 pound bag of whole wheat flour
2 pound bag of confectioner's sugar
2 pound bag of corn meal
2 cups sea salt
1 cup coconut shavings
1 cup human shavings
5 cups freshly rolled oats
2 dollops of essence of babpupten
2 boxes of raisins
1 box of cranberry raisins
1 ounce raison d'entre
1 ounce ethereal ectoplasm
1 1/2 pounds of 86% organic chocolate chunks
1 cup tears of the unrequited
3 teaspoons of the Dreamer's spittle
6 tons cooled magma
3 tons of volcanic ash from Pompeii
1 ton people ash from Pompeii
3 dashes of Spice Melange
3 drops of the anti-agathic Essence of Ageria
3 dried and ground mind worm larvae from Ceti Alpha Five
1 drop purified water of life
1 bulb of garlic
2 blue eyes of newt
1 bag of M&Ms
2 wheels brie cheese
2 wheels camembert cheese
2 wheelbarrels of headcheese
4 cans condensed milk
2 cans sweetened condensed milk
3 cans condensed goats milk
5 cans condensed weasel milk
1 smelt
cinnamon
paprika
vanilla
old bay seasoning
celery salt

Mix ingredients in non-Euclidean bowl, gently folding in the chocolate chunks. Let this sit on the counter until the reality of your kitchen is redefined in a darker light than shines at night. Ignite oven with the burning soul essence of orphaned male child of a pious widow. Place magma in titanium/unobtanium alloy pan, use center rack in oven. Heat magma to 1250 degrees (centigrade), add ash. Dollop out the cookie mixture onto baking sheet. Should any dollops randomly fall onto the sheet in the form of runes, pictograms or the Elder Sign, DO NOT READ THEM ALOUD. If you choose to read them in your head, you risk only your mind. Should you dare to read them aloud without the proper preparations and precautions, I will not be held liable. Please sign the attached waiver of liablity and fax it to 1-888-NOM-RYLE.

In case you are wondering how a person could write a post like this after the previous two posts and their intense content, I can only say that were I to dwell solely upon those topics that affect me in a most serious and painful fashion, I would not remain sane for long. The struggle is a daily one and I hope that I do not trivialize the suffering mentioned last week.

Trend Setters, We Walk a Different Road

As I said on 3 Bulls:

Brando, stay out of my kitchen. My recipe is a secret and merely reading the list of ingredients would drive most people insane. It was a lucky accident of fate that my mixing bowl no longer subscribes to such prosaic forms of geometry as you mortals know-A p'sPIOSDOI'odsfig ugasrg' ghlauvawec-

Ahem. As I was saying, on that fateful day I did not know that my bowl was unsafe for use in a microwave oven, nor did I know why. I was performing experiments and filming them for YouTube. I had made a solution of corn starch and water in my Gladware mixing bowl and placed it in the microwave. After checking the focus on my digital handicam, I started the microwave. The solution began to flutter and bubble. The bowl began to quiver and sag. I glanced into the view finder and saw not the frothing, bubbling, gloopy contents of my melting mixing bowl, but another dimension of rips and tears in the fabric of space, time and, indeed, mortal sanity. I dare not speak of the rough beasts I saw within this dimension, but can only say this: I was changed, as was my mixing bowl. -GARHG'uhUHFjlk vjnlicuyn' aoc fatgnh aoorc'msfhvymi'im-

Pardon me. The bowl is an odd thing now, it twists and quivers in the corner of my mind, even as it wobbles in the corner of my vision. I have secured a spoon, smelted from the dust of a thousand comets, with which I stir the ingredients imparted to me by those myriad, cyclopean beings of the void and nether. The sheet, if so pedestrian a word can describe it, by which I bake these carnal confections was forged from the raw steel smelted in the blood of orphaned second sons of second sons. The oven burns with the heat of gigawatts, all for the glory of those whom I dare not name.

Dare you eat my cookies?

*With all apologies and due respect to HP, who has done it longer, okay not longer, but certainly better than I.*