Betty freaking McCrocker

I know it's Betty Crocker...but I'll never forget the time at Indiana State when a bunch of us tried to make those cut and bake Pillsbury cookies and burned them to shit.

One of my good friends from that year was a bit baked herself, and when we laughed at her for burning the cookies, she replied with a slightly slurred, "What? I'm not Betty freaking McCrocker."

What followed was a perfectly placed bit of silence that turned into a fit of laughter.

Anyhow, that's all beside the point. Tonight, I bake. In the Betty McCrocker way...not the Cheech and Chong way.

Unless Cheech and Chong make Valentine's Day cookies.

And when I say bake...I mean bake. From-scratch sugar cookies with from-scratch icing.

It's gonna be nuts.

I may just capture this fiasco on video.

You know, thinking about my first attempt at college just brought up another memory about baked goods.

You know those Little Debbie brownies? The fudgy ones with the nuts in them? Well, I had bought some for my dorm room one time and it happened to be just before our RA called our floor to a meeting on our bathroom etiquette.

Apparently some of the girls had a hard time cleaning up after themselves...leaving things in the toilet...or dropping shredded pieces of t.p. all over the ground. Pretty disgusting.

What irritated me and my friends was the fact that we were getting scolded for other people's nastiness.

After the meeting we met up to discuss, and in turn hatched a plan.

We took a few of those brownies, warmed them up in our hands, and molded them like clay into, well, into a giant turd. It was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

We snuck to the bathroom, where we appropriately placed the brownie-turd on a toilet seat, and a little in the bowl.

Then we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

My friend's dorm was right outside the bathroom, so between snickers and laughter, we would just listen.

And then...the payoff.

The loudest, most disgusted shriek flew from the bathroom. There were even a few gags. Then a rush of people down the hall.

And finally, above all the commotion was the voice of our RA, "You guys! Come on. We JUST talked about this!"

She. Was. Pissed.

We were still in the room laughing our sneaky little asses off. They actually thought someone had shit on the toilet seat.

Amazing.

So...yes, tomorrow morning, if you work with me, expect cookies.

And I promise, no mushed up, turd-shaped brownies on any of the toilet seats.

sweet lew

That's me with my friend Lewis back in February 2006. We were at an Oscar Party, dressed to the nines, drunk as skunks, balls to the wall. Okay, so it wasn't THAT rowdy, but our table was covered with half-sipped chocolate martinis and screwdrivers that we'd hoarded right before they shut down the open bar earlier in the night. And by night's end, we'd finished them all.

I remember Lewis lost his camera that night. He'd gotten it for Christmas and had been taking pictures ever since. Hundreds of pictures were on that camera, and unfortunately the camera was gone. We figured someone had probably stolen it.

And to be honest, I think Lewis was more upset about the memories he'd lost, rather than the camera itself. I mean, the camera was replaceable...but the moments in those pictures? Well, it'd be impossible to recreate them.

Of course, a few hours later, Lewis had moved on. He was past losing the camera, and on his way to making more memories, posing for pictures in other people's cameras. Like mine. Or our countless other friends.

But that was Lewis. He just made the most of everything. I mean, he was born with a heart defect for which he'd had an artificial valve implanted since he was little. But you'd never know it. He never let it slow him down. And much like the way he just went on having fun even after losing his new camera, Lewis just went on having fun and enjoying life, even with a heart condition.

I mean he just really lived. Truly balls to the wall I guess, actually. He did things that made him happy. He never acted like he was more fragile than the rest of us, even if in truth he actually was.

I remember a few weeks after Oscar night, Lewis leaned over and told me that in the fall he'd be having heart surgery to replace the old valve. I was a bit shaken up. I mean this was serious shit. But he let me know that it would be okay, and that it would be for the best. I mean, the valve he was using now was getting pretty old. "Better to be safe than sorry," he'd mentioned.

He was dressed like a vampire or a super hero. Something with a cape. It wasn't Halloween, just a theme night for him and his circle of live band karaoke friends. I remember him whispering into my ear, his cape falling over his shoulder, someone on stage was drunk, and singing something loud and fairly obnoxious. But just like he did after losing his camera on Oscar night, Lewis just went on with the night, having fun, creating moments...as if nothing happened.

Lewis died July 8th, 2006, just about 4 months after he told me about the heart valve replacement. He was 24.

It's been two years, and for the most part it doesn't hurt to think about the loss of Lewis. But sometimes, like today...it's harder.

I guess for all of us who knew Lewis, it's a lot like when he lost his camera on Oscar night. Right after, we were distraught. We were borderline frantic and shocked. But as timed passed, we went on. We started having fun again, occasionally looking up to the sky as if to check in on Lew every once in a while. We kept on creating moments, even though we still felt like there were some empty spaces where Lewis should have been.

And now, two years later, we still do. But unlike the camera, Lewis is not lost. A little piece of him is in everyone he ever knew. And we are all better for that.

Miss you Lew.
November 11, 1981 - July 8, 2006.