it's beyond my control
My Mom sent me this brownie mix (that she found god knows where because there's not one word of French on the box - and it's illegal in Canada to not have bilingual packaging, as far as I know), and I've finally got around to baking them tonight. Oh my. Fat free chocolate brownies, and they don't taste like shite. Mind you, it really irks me how companies convince you that "low fat" means "good for you" when the product is loaded with sugar. Sugar is fat free; low calorie it is not. These brownies are a lovely little treat, but if you look at the ingredients, guess what's first on the list? Sugar. Since my hormones don't give a rat's arse about watching my sugar intake this week, I'll just enjoy the brownies with my nice cup of tea.
I also blame hormones for that big curry I ate on Thursday night, the Domino's pizza I had on Friday night, and the Doritos and guacamole washed down with margaritas I had on Saturday night. Yes, that's right. Hormones. Did too. You want a piece of me, punk?!?
A bit homesick today as a few of my Canadian friends emailed to remind me that it's Canadian Thanksgiving. Thanks for rubbing in the fact that I don't get a turkey dinner and didn't have the day off work, you bastards. Pfffft. I think Canadians are smart having Thanksgiving in October. You Americans have to go through all the turkey basting and family gathering fiascos in November, mere weeks before you have to do it all again for Christmas. At least we have over two months to forget the fact that most of our relatives are completely insane and that we vowed never to have them in our homes ever again. Paul claims that the turkey bacon he made for me for breakfast yesterday morning should count towards my Thanksgiving festivities. The breakfast he made was so fantastic that it actually does almost make up for the lack of a full turkey dinner tonight. Almost. Hmm getting to that time of year when homesickness is becoming a lot more apparent. Must eat another brownie.
Ah yes, the film we saw on Sunday - Red Dragon. Since I'm too tired and lazy to write up a decent (and I use the term loosely) commentary about it, I'll just say that I liked it and maybe spit out a sentence or two. Ralph Fiennes (side note: every time I see his name now, I always think of "Coffee Talk" with Mike Meyers on Saturday Night Live. One of the lines when Linda gets all "verklempt" was, "Ralph Fiennes is neither spelled 'Rafe' nor 'Fines' - discuss!") is immensely creepy yet somehow pathetic. Seems to be a theme in this season's films - murderous lunatics who can gain our pity. Ed Norton teeters on the border of intense brilliance and slack-jawed simplicity. There are points when his expertise and intuition are supposed to astound us, then there are moments when he almost seems to drool a little as he tries to get his mind around the painfully obvious. Still, the dynamic between Norton and Anthony Hopkins works and the manhunt is captivating. No, it's not better than Silence of the Lambs, but it's a massive improvement from Hannibal. Maybe I'll change my mind if I watch Manhunter (the first film adaptation) or read the book again, but for the time being, I can say that I enjoyed it.
And may I just say, it's a tad depressing to be sitting here in a sweater and jeans with the heating on. :(