Fondue.

Last night, handsome boyfriend (that's right, I said boyfriend) came up with the wicked idea of having cheese for dinner. :::Match.Made.in.Heaven::: He researched some recipes and even stopped at the store ALL ON HIS OWN to pick up the goods for a fancyass fondue.

Ingredients:
8 ounces shredded cheddar cheese
8 ounces shredded emmental cheese (we subbed Swiss)
1 clove garlic
1 (12-ounce) can beer
2 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon salt
Pinch pepper
French bread, cubed, for serving

Directions:
-Combine all ingredients except bread in a fondue pot; heat until melted, stirring occasionally.
-Serve warm with French bread. (We also ate it with apple slices. Delicious in my mouth AND totally healthy too. Fuck yeah.)


Ingredients you will need. -Minus the flour. Why? Because I forgot it. Sue me.

Quality pix taken with a REAL camera and NOT taken with an iPhone camera.

Attempting the iPhone. (So sad to my eyeballs...)

Cheese is starting to melt. Along with my heart.

I know what you're thinking. Yes, I'm growing my bangs out. No, I am not Joyce DeWitt.

(Joyce DeWitt. NOT TILTE.)

MmmMmmMmMmmm... Dinner is served. (It's important to note that your fondue will cool the millisecond you unplug it from its heat source. This results in knuckle-deep, trowling of your bread as the cheese instantly hardens. Lesson learned: Eat fast, fools.)

Strapping on the old feedbag. (I'd like to clarify- that yellow thing I'm wearing is a tank top, and not my bra. It's cold and I like to wear layers, ok.)

Since this was a fanciest of fancy dinner that would have made Robin Leach foam at the mouth with jealousy, we decided to serve it up with a Framboise Lambic. If you're never tried it before, Lambic basically tastes like Martinelli's flavored apple cider. Only it's a beer. It's sold at World Market and I expect all of you to be getting Lambic shitfaced this weekend.

Try this dinner out at your next rendez-vous and your friends will think you are a time-traveling master chef from the 70's. (PS: This was the only close up of me where I didn't look like a prime fucking candidate for a LifeStyle Lift. And if you don't know what that shit is, google it and then cry for me.)

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Wondering...

Do you ever see someone you're sure is really "Future You" coming back to the present to mess with you?

No...?

Just me.....?


That's weird.

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Hello, dinner.

Recipe:
-Stella Artois
-Vons Artisan French Baguette


Directions:
-Maximize carb intake.


Boner'ppetite.

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Another Celeb Sighting

So just this past Monday I saw another celeb. I mean, I didn't have my authentic DNA testing kit to prove it was him, but I'm pretty sure my eyes would never play a trick on me like this.

While walking out of the post office, a van pulled in all crazylike into a handicapped spot. The driver smiled at me as I walked to my car. When I got in, I realized the face looked familiar. So I looked back over at the car and there he was...

Verne Troyer.

Uh-huh.

That's right.

As soon as I got home, I did some extensive internet research (asking friends on Facebook) to see if it was even physically possible for Mini Me to drive a car. That was when I came across these photos.




Ohhhhh lolz. Thank you Big Brother UK for being wrong on so many levels.

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Droooooool.

Living near/ around/ in LA, I've seen my fair share of celebs (and pseudo celebs).

Roger Lodge (From the famed TV show Blind Date, duh.)

Jodi Foster

Pauly Shore (That's right, The WeeeEeEeEesel himself)

Jillian Barberie

Jim Carey

Tom Hanks

Joe Pantoliano (Who actually kissed me and made some innapropriate offers- totally serious, btw)

David Schwimmer

Kirsten Dunst

Kristen Wiig (Hey Kristen- remember when I walked past you to go into the ladies room?!? I'm sure you do.)

But my top three favs are (in order of stalking seeing them):

3. John Ritter
When I was a nanny in richville, one of the kids I watched was in the same class as John Ritter's daughter, Stella. One morning, after parking my rickity-ass '84 Volvo alongside all the fresh new BMWs, Range Rovers, and Mercedes', I spotted him. An angel sent from Regal Beagle heaven. There he was, my dreamboat of dreamboats, Johnny Ritter. I foamed at the mouth for a bit as I tried to think of how I would make my way into his beauhunk heart before reaching the classroom door. This was my chance. Speak now or forever hold my peace. I mustered up my shit and squeeked out "Oh my gosh, I'm like your biggest fan!"

Right as I wrapped up my haiku of undying love, Stella burst into tears for some unknown reason. John sat down on a bench, put her on his knee, and started consoling her, totally blowing off my special moment. Fuck. I walked my kid into class, signed him in, and shuffled back to my car, face burning with the intensity of a thousand white hot suns.

Even though there was no "real" conversation taking place between me and jRitter, I'm pretty sure our eyes did all the talking. It will always live on as one of my fav celeb moments.

2. Paris Hilton
A few years back, some friends and I were shopping around at one of LA's known celeb spots. While at the food court, my friend Michael casually mentioned that Paris Hilton was nearby. Being TOTALLY in love with her at the time, I flipped the fuck out and decided I was NOT going to pass up this opportunity to meet the Princess of Ridiculousness herself. I grabbed my camera and headed over to the sticker shop where Paris was hiding out, in cognito (avec a dark wig and sunglasses, of course). Surprisingly, not too many people had spotted her so the shop was pretty empty. I lurked around some corners, staring from afar, and finally decided to make my move. I walked up to her and politely asked "Um, excuse me... Can I get a picture with you...?".

Friends, I'm gonna say this now NOT because I used to openly obsess over her and post magazine cut outs of her all over my college apartment refridgerator, but because it's the GD truth. SHE.WAS.SO.NICE. I totally swear. She smiled and said "Mm-hmm!"

We posed, took our pic, I thanked her, and we parted ways. (Paris and TILTE: Total BFF's)

1. Kerri Kenney
Also known as Deputy Trudy Wiegel from Reno 911.

My love for Kerri (or "Kerr" as I call her) started way back in the early 90's when she was the only female on just THE.BEST.FUCKING.COMEDY.SKETCH.SHOW.EVER.WRITTEN. EVARRRR. It was called The State and if you were lucky enough to be graced by this comic genius, consider yourself blessed. Seriously, that show had some of the funniest sketch shit I've seen in my entire life and I hope some big time producers are kicking themselves in the balls for not picking them up for longer than they originally aired.

From there, Kerr and two other State alums- Michael Ian Black and Thomas Lennon- formed the show Viva Variety. This show... meh... not so great. But since I was STAAARVED for State comedy gold, I went with it.

Just last week, as I was perusing through the aisles of my local Target Greatland, I saw her. My female comic funny-face making hero, Kerri Kenney. I was frozen like a dear in the bedding department. After I shit my pants, I passed by her like three times and was probably one pass short of having security called on me. I didn't care though bc I LUUUV her. Seeing someone who's hilarious, pretty, and holds her own in a group full of dudes- Ugh... she's my fav. Here's to you, KerrBear:


There you have it, TILTE's fav celeb sightings. Now I'm not one to get overly foofoo about seeing stars, because afterall, they're just normal people. And I'm sure all of the above mentioned normal people are totally blogging about seeing me too. I just wanted to give a little shout out to my fav peeps in the industry. And also let all of my readers know how cool I am because I totally hang out with the rich and famous.

PS: Happy Thanksgiving, yo.

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Old Fashioned Soft Pumpkin Cookies

Thanks to spending 48 hours straight- sans shower, wrapped up in blankets ala mental patient style- watching The Food Network this past weekend, I decided to test out the ol' Midas touch in the kitchen.

In my experience in the cooking/ baking department, I've noticed that pretty much every recipe ever invented was designed to make me look like an asshole. So instead of jumping straight into one those professional grade deals, I went with a recipe a friend of mine had previously tested and had no problems with. I figured, if a normal (non-chef) person was able to make them without a hitch, then my chances were already greatly improved by at least 3%.

So basically, the recipe for Old Fashioned Soft Pumpkin Cookies goes something like this:

Get your shit together.

In one bowl, mix powders.

In another bowl, cream butter and sugar. (This tends to be where I have a problem completing the recipe because butter/ sugar happens to be one of my favorite meals.)

Add all the leftover shit.


Throw the two bowls together.


Make some balls.

While they're burning baking, sift the powdered sugar.


Make some icing.

And voila. Dinner is served.

If you're anything like me (lucky you), you will have no problem resisting the desire to lick the bowl clean because the smell of raw pumpkin is pretty offputting. However, once the cookies are complete, there's almost no pumpkin taste. They actually taste a lot closer to spice cake- moist, cakey texture and very mild flavor. :::drool:::

This recipe is SUPER fucking easy and perfect for Thanksgiving. Make it and then tell all your friends/ family how cool I am.

(PS: Shout out to Jenna for the recipe- Holla.)

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Scarier Than Anything Halloween Related.

I want you to know this entry is not for the squeamish or for those who happen to be interested in eating in the near future. I'm putting this out there because you're my fans friends and if there's anything I want in life, it's to be the most popular girl in the world an honest person.

AND I'D LIKE TO CLARIFY: My hospital visit was not because of some weird or crazy Jackass stunt. The following events have taken place because there is some kind of miscommunication somewhere in my lower GI area. I've suffered with a nervous stomach, hernia operation, and overall shittiness in my digestive tract my whole life. Just add this to the list.

So, remember way back a few weeks ago when I landed in the hospital?? Well, here's the juicy deets. And by juicy, I mean the complete opposite of juicy.

I've had a real asshole of a stomach my whole life, and it seems to be an asshole-to-the-10th-degree when I'm under a lot of stress. So when it started acting up the other week, I didn't think too much of it. -Mostly because I was in so much pain, thinking wasn't even a function I was capable of. And what really pushed me over the emergency-status edge was when I started pooping out things that should only be seen in Stephen King thrillers.

Following my mom's orders, I called my doctor. Because I have Kaiser insurance, I have to call a generic appointment number, leave a message with the attendant, and depending on how hilarious the office thinks my bodily malfunctions are, a nurse will call back within 24 hrs. Well, it seemed like they were taking my particular situation very seriously- passing me around to three different nurses, the last of which instructed me to go straight to the ER.

After I showered and made myself look closer to a normal human being, my mom took me to a nearby hospital. The nurse who escorted me to my room had warned me of the possibility of a certain exam... At which I scoffed and mentally filed under the category of "General Hospital Malarkey That Definitely Would NOT be Taking Place". But once the head honcho came in, it was time to face reality. There was going to be a rectal exam.

Did I mention it was a male doctor...?

A youngish, male doctor...??

A youngish, male doctor who brought in two trainees with him...???

Did I also mention I was also on my period...????

Yep. This was definitely one of my finer moments.

Dr. McButthole and I shared some some intimate details over a nice chardonnay and before I even had a chance to request the Surf N' Turf dinner, my exam was over. I was released on my own recognizance and sent home with instructions to get a referral from my general practitioner to see a Gastro Intestinal Specialist.

Thank god that's over with.

A few weeks later I go in to see my regular doctor so I can get this stupid referral and get back to having a normal, functioning lower half. It's only when I'm at my appt do I realize I'm going to have to take some more tests. Some more fun tests. The funnest of which involved ANOTHER rectal exam, only this one was much more dignifying and involved something that can only best be described as a Monistat suppository applicator. -Only it wasn't going in the Monistat hole.

Yep. Round two for the old poop chute.

This time went just as smoothly and included just as little wining n' dining.

After my doc and I had the old "it's not you, it's me" talk and decided to go our separate ways, she instructed me to go to the main Kaiser center to get some MOOORE testing done. At this point, I've learned my lesson on which tests I'm cool with and not-so-cool with and am thankful to learn that the next set of tests will be easy: blood work and stool sample.

By the time I get to the other office, I'm ready to go poop like STAT because, as my doctor so eloquently put it, "your butt doesn't know the difference between a finger a poop" and apparently rectal exams are often followed by a turd.

The nurse gives me a tiny "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" sized plastic bowl and points me in the direction of the nearest toilet. And it's at this point I realize... I have no idea where to hold this bowl in order to catch the thunder down under. My backside is all a mystery to me and my shit could be falling out of the back of my neck for all I know. So I take a guess, position myself, say a prayer- and like the sound of a Vegas jackpot- I strike shit gold.

As I'm at the sink, scalding my flesh of my hands off, I notice the nurse hadn't given me my brown paper bag. You know the one. -My "don't look at my shit" bag. At this point, I consider myself to be well beyond any kind of embarrassment, so me and I my shit make our way back to the waiting area. When the nurse sees me waiting, she waves me over, hands me a tiny test tube, another ICBINB plastic bowl, and a miniature 31 Flavors spoon, and instructs me to go BACK to the restroom and divide my shit up.

So... me, my shit, and all my newly acquired lunch containers head back to the ladies room. I lightly push open the first stall... and it quickly gets slammed shut. -But not before I saw the bare knees and granny panties of a 500 year old woman taking care of business. :::nightmares for days::: I go into the next stall and play Ring Around the Rosies with my turds for the next 20 minutes, paying careful attention to not contaminate anything (shit OR bathroom). Another round of scalding the hands, and we make our way back to the waiting area.

From this point on, it's smooth sailing and today I'm only left with a minor bruise on my arm that makes me look like a heroin addict and my pride that's only been somewhat damaged.

I got a call from my doctor's office this morning. Everything came back normal. Phew. At least I went through all that trouble for nothing.

So what have you learned from this entry? Absolutely nothing.

-But I'm telling you right now, I expect E.V.E.R.Y. one of my readers to comment on this shit because if this isn't Blogger of the Year material right here, I don't know what is.

Kim Jong-Il, OUT.

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Breakfast

Since ALL of you have been bugging me nonstop about how I stay so fit and beautiful and hilarious and intelligent and cultured and talented and modest, I've decided to share my little secret with you.

Allow me to introduce to you: The breakfast of this champion.

Chili Cheese Fritos, chocolate chip/ walnut cookies, and blueberry yogurt. -Yogurt, you see, because I'm on a diet.

Boner'ppetite.

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Thicker Looking Hair

I love this commercial.



PS: I can't stop watching it.

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The Big Mother Trucking Reveal.

Before we get down to biznass, let's take a look at the costume pix that were sent to me (THANK YOU to Liz, Julia, and Biscuit. I think we see who my true friends are.).

Liz as...

...Frida Kahlo.


Attack of the Killer Hot Dog. (Hide yo kids- Hide yo wife.)



The cutest little gnome that makes me aaaaalmost reconsider eating gnomes.

Vampire Cinderella- She will fuck you up. While wearing glass slippers.



And lastly, the SunMaid Raisin girl (I totes stole this off a friend's Facebook page because I just love it- Holla atcha girl, Marika).


Sooooo, guess who was sick on the most raddest of rad days. I'll give you one guess.

-It was me.

After all that hype about how much I fucking LoOoOoOve Halloween and how I was SooOoOoOo looking forward to it and how I'd already staked out the not one- but TWOoOoOo locations I was planning on going to, I got a migraine. It rendured me suicidal and although I managed to get pix in my blessed costume, I ended up crawling straight into bed and falling asleep in it.

. . . .

So here you have it, friends. TILTE as...

...Gallagher.
I know, I look a little like Super Mario. I'm okay with that.

Hope you all had a great Halloween.

And by "you all", I mean my friends that sent me pictures.

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