Martha Stewart’s Chocolate Crackle Cookies OR “If You’re Wimpy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands”

A 22 year old man died trying to swing by a rope from Utah’s 110 foot tall Corona Arch. The Corona Arch is a natural landmark made of sandstone and shaped like, you guessed it, a giant arch. People climb up to the top, secure a rope to it and then jump off with the other end tied around their waist. The idea is when the rope reaches the end of its slack, the person attached at the bottom will swing wildly back and forth beneath the arch, suspended in mid-air like a human pendulum. But the guy who died miscalculated the amount of slack he needed on his rope. So when he jumped off the Arch, he just plowed straight into the ground. And that’s that.

When I read that story, I realized something wonderful. I realized that nothing like that could ever happen to me because I am a complete wimp.

I don’t mean to say that I’m a coward. I have courage. I just know where I don’t care to apply it.

The reason I would never jump off the Corona Arch is not because I’m afraid. It’s because I know me! I’d be that one hapless ninny up there who miscounts the number of feet in his rope, jumps off the top thinking, “Look at me! I’m really out of my comfort zone!” then slaps straight into the ground, ending my life at the center of a giant dust cloud just like Wile E. Coyote.

Don’t feel sorry for me. It’s wonderful when you finally accept being a wimp as part of your natural human make-up. I no longer have to pretend I’m okay with things that make me afraid. Like the iron. I hate the iron. Do you know how hot those things can get? You might as well keep a fuel rod from Fukushima under your sink. Most people don’t worry about using the iron. But again, I know me! Enough time around one of those things and I’m sure I’ll find a way to accidentally burn off my appendix.

I’m a wimp and I’m ok! I no longer have anxiety over it. Meditation and has freed me from it. Meditation and the little blue pill I have to take every morning. So what if I run from danger? Lots of people do that. Don’t ask me who right now because I can only think of C-3PO, and he’s not actually a person.

But they’re out there! Lots of them, all waiting a full three hours after eating before they get in a pool, and hiding in the basement when the stove needs to be re-lit. So what if I’ll never jump off The Corona Arch with a rope tied around my waist? I do other things well. I’ll keep to them. And I’ll also keep wearing shoes whenever I’m on shag carpet, just in case there’s a scorpion. I know me! It’s just a matter of time before one shows up. I plan on being prepared. And that’s that.

Click here for the recipe for Martha Stewart’s Chocolate Crackle Cookies

Cornmeal Thyme Cookies (Part of the “Keep Your Man Employed” Series and the “Pictures of Paralyzed Chihuahuas” Series)

When Michael sent me this picture earlier today from the Robot Chicken animation studios, I texted him immediately and asked if this guy was going to mind having his face on my website.  Michael responded: “Oh, no.  Kevin is an attention whore.  He’d LOVE to be on your site!”  And so for Kevin the attention whore, the road to fame and notoriety begins here today at TvFoodAndDrink.com.

Michael tells me a lot of stories about the characters he works with, but I rarely see these people in person.  I may meet them at a wrap party or a Christmas party, but months will pass in between, and I’ll inevitably forget which face belongs to which name.  It’s a character flaw, but it isn’t limited to Michael’s co-workers.  I can’t even keep track of my remote control.  The other day I found it on top the cat box out on the balcony.

So when Michael texted me last week, simply saying, “Olive is here!” boy did I feel the pressure.  I knew he was waiting for an appropriate response, but I hadn’t a clue who “Olive” was.  The few of Michael’s co-workers I have managed to burn into my sickly memory banks I’ve done so by associating with things I’ve learned about them or moments I’ve shared with them:  “Joy who’s getting married,” “Tommy who lives downtown,” “Trish who used to work at Starbucks,” “Jeanette who I got drunk with,” “Dan who has the blog,” “Sarah who I made hot dogs for that one time.”

But who the hell was Olive?

I decided to roll the dice.  It was clear Olive didn’t work with MG or he wouldn’t have felt the need to celebrate her appearance.  Instead, I figured it had to be a loved one associated with someone at work – the kind who is occasionally brought into the office for a special guest appearance, to be coddled and adored over while work goes completely ignored for twenty to thirty minutes.

So I texted Michael back, “Oh… Olive!  Is that the baby… or the paralyzed chihuahua?”

I figured I might be able to trick Michael into thinking I at least almost knew who Olive was by narrowing it down to two possible options.

But I was wrong on both counts.

Olive is a pug… a pug with four fully functioning legs.  Boyfriend points denied.

If we’re out together and someone Michael recognizes waves at us and begins an approach, I quickly lean in and whisper, “Do I know them?” and Michael either assures me I don’t, or gives me a lightning fast bio so I don’t make an fool of myself, just like Emily Blunt did for Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada.  “That’s Rick.  We met him at Comic-Con.  He lives in the hills.  He does calligraphy.”

And for that, but not that alone, I will always be grateful to Michael.  And I will always make him cookies to share with his co-workers. Even Kevin the attention whore.


By the way… I wasn’t making up the paralyzed chihuahua.  You can see a picture below. You ought to watch the way that baby can get around on those back wheels, coasting and swerving through all the legs at Robot Chicken and snapping up every dropped cheese puff in sight!

I can’t decide who I like the most… paralyzed chihuahua, Olive the pug, or Kevin the attention whore.  But one thing is certain. Now that they’re all on my website, I’ll forever have a short-cut to remembering which is which.

Click Here for Recipe for Cornmeal Thyme Cookies from Martha Stewart