goodbye davy jones

when i was in my early teens i fell in love with the monkees. they were adorable and hilarious and had the coolest car i've ever seen. i didn't really give a shit about whether or not they were a "real" band, because they were awesome and it was 1994 so no one really cared anymore. i started collecting their records and watching them every day on much music (after the partridge family obviously). my mom would sit on the stairs pretending she wasn't watching (just "bringing the laundry upstairs") and then we'd argue who was cuter - davy or peter. it wasn't until later in my life that i developed an appreciation for the quiet genius of mike nesmith, but that's a different story for a different day. today is about davy.

not since the loss of corey haim have i been so distraught.

no one has ever looked better in an orange velour eight-button bib shirt and no one ever will. NO ONE.

goodbye davy. (you were the cutest.)
love so pauvre

what the fuhhh? : ask so pauvre 1000th post edition

one thousand (and five) posts.

what: ask so pauvre questions
where: in the comments
when: from now until friday march 2nd
who: you
why: because i said so

be there or be talked about in your absence!
love so pauvre

anniversary adventures part two: intercourse

our little anniversary adventure was my first time "in the land of the plain people" (as bear would say), better known as pennsylvania dutch amish country.

my long standing fascination with the amish is partially based on my fear of them (i'm pretty sure they have powers), so to be in their realm was a little overwhelming. when i saw my first amish buggy come clip-clopping down the road i was like a deer in headlights with my mouth gaping open, clutching my camera for dear life. where are they going??? where did they come from??? i know not the answers to these questions.

to a barn probably.

this buggy at the hess station was a little less terrifying, but as i was posing, a REAL buggy pulled up to the intersection... how do they see with no headlights??? powers, that's fucking how.

my only power is cuteness.

the next day as we drove around looking for a breakfast place that wasn't closed (great job steamboat concierge.) we saw lots of amish laundry hanging out to dry, a little amish girl in a bonnet riding weird bicycle scooter (apparently pedals are the devil's playground), and probably the craziest thing i've ever seen (and i've seen a lot of crazy shit) - the most amish looking amish man ever (hat, beard, pipe, the whole deal) standing on a wooden cart being pulled by FOUR giant horses. so apparently the amish ride CHARIOTS. it makes me uncomfortable.

anywho... eventually we found a restaurant in "bird-in-hand" that was actually open. hooray! i would have given anything to witness beverly lewis' the confession MUSICAL, but there's no way in amish hell it could be better than what i'm imagining.

what i'm imagining is tap dancing amish people.

bear loves pretty, dark-haired women and breakfast food, so naturally he was very excited. also, just in case you were wondering, that's not an entire blueberry pie - it's actually a waffle. and that square brown slab? scrapple. let's see what wikipedia has to say:

scrapple, also known by the pennsylvania dutch name pon haus, is traditionally a mush of pork scraps and trimmings combined with cornmeal and flour, often buckwheat flour, and spices. the mush is formed into a semi-solid congealed loaf, and slices of the scrapple are then panfried before serving. scraps of meat left over from butchering, not used or sold elsewhere, were made into scrapple to avoid waste.

bears LOVE pon haus.

after a hearty breakfast of semi-solid congealed loaf, we traveled to the town of intercourse. yes, intercourse. the only good thing about intercourse is that it's called intercourse. seriously, stay away from intercourse.

despite being located in a place called intercourse and posting claims of cannin' AND jammin' - kettle kitchen village - or kettle butt village as it will ever be known was the worst thing ever. it was basically everything we hate - families, old people, "primitive" home decor, an entire vera bradley STORE, people acting like a sample of jam is the only food they've seen in weeks, etc. SO, if you don't want quilted purses or barn stars don't go there. just don't.

"luring people here under the false pretense of fun since 1954."

the only reason to even possibly start thinking about considering to go to kettle butt is this photo op with "yummie" the kettle butt village mascot, and even that was a little depressing somehow.

"i hate it here."

"me too."

leaving intercourse was the best decision we ever made. when we got home we ordered a hawaiian pizza and ate it, which was the second best decision we ever made.

thank you to my wonderful husbear for surprising me with such a great adventure and for always letting me eat the leftover pizza for lunch.

one year down, forever to go. (no refunds.)

love and intercourse,
so pauvre

anniversary adventures part one: i slept on a steamboat

in celebration of our anniversary/one years old, bear secretly planned an overnight adventure at a mystery location! that's just the kind of bear he is. and by the kind of bear he is, i mean the best kind of bear. he didn't tell me anything about where we were going other than "when you see it, you'll know."

when i saw it, i knew.

that's right children, the fulton steamboat inn! over a year ago i casually mentioned the steamboat here on so pauvre and bear has had it bookmarked ever since. who does that??? bear, that's who. now please excuse me while i run around screaming and taking pictures of everything with an anchor on it:

i like anchors ok? jeez.

although the steamboat inn is not in any way a steamboat, it's steamboat THEMED which is probably better than a real steamboat because there is little to no chance of it hitting an iceberg in the north atlantic. and yes, that would be an actual concern for me on any form of boat in any body of water.

ANYWHO... look at our beautiful room! it even had an electric fireplace that we couldn't figure out how to operate, so it was a thousand degrees in there at all times. bear loved the fireplace until i turned all the lights off and then it suddenly became "the flames of satan's realm". did i mention we had no idea know how to turn the fireplace off? i mean, i tried smashing it on the mantle and that didn't work, so it was obviously broken.

where the magic happens.

ambient romance or the gates of hell? we'll never know for sure.

apparently the third floor was "first class" (a.k.a. first on the lifeboats in the event of any unpleasant iceberg situations). reasons first class is awesome: 1. we got 25% off at the gift shop and a FREE souvenir glass to treasure for life and 2. no one under 16 is allowed on that floor! that's right families - it's nothing but steerage for you.

we really hate families.

our room had a cute little balcony that overlooked an expanse of pennsylvania dutch amish countryside... and also outlet malls. lancaster is weird.

so weird.

this duck pond is the closest thing to open water the steamboat inn has ever seen. the ducks that inhabit said pond have unsettling quacks that sound like they're laughing at you in a fashion that suggests mockery. i didn't care for those ducks.

rude.

"gazebo? more like ga-ZOINKS-bo!" (literally the only reason i'm in that gazebo.)

one of my favourite things ever is paintings of things that you can put your face in. i'm pretty sure that's the technical term. i guess this one is supposed to be huck finn themed or something. the grangerfords? fuck knows, just stick your face in the hole and don't ask questions.

what i do know is that i'm really wearing the shit out of that bonnet.

no idea.

my sunglasses (and face) didn't fit in this clearly child-sized face hole. the result is a facial expression that pretty much sums up how i feel about most things.

uncomfortable and confused.

we had such a cozy/hilarious time that i wish that we could have just lived in the steamboat forever. believe me, i didn't go quietly.

or without making several scenes in the lobby. "can i help you ma'am?"

i miss you already.

stay tuned for anniversary adventures part two: intercourse (seriously.)
love so pauvre

one years old

a year ago today i married an american bear.


every day that i've spent with bear has been the best day of my life. he makes me feel feelings that aren't wrath and makes me think thoughts that aren't smashing. i love him.



happy first anniversary to my sweet-faced husbear. (no refunds.)
love so pauvre

donut rules

since moving to pennsylvania i've had several bees in several bonnets about donuts. because really, why wouldn't i?

tim hortons basically ruined all other donuts for me and i will accept no substitutes. i mean, i 'll eat the substitutes, but i won't be happy about it.

bear recently pointed out that i have more rules about donuts than almost anything else. (i have a lot of rules about a lot of things, and it's not my fault america doesn't know how to make donuts.) so, in honour of fauschnaut day i've compiled a comprehensive list for future donut reference:

1. holes: if a donut does not have a hole it MUST be filled with something. there really is no point otherwise.

2. fillings: if a donut IS filled with something i should be experiencing said filling for the entire duration of my donut and not questioning its whereabouts. FILL IT.

3. glaze: if a donut is glazed i should be able to see glaze deposits settled in the crevasses of the donut's surface area. if i can't, there isn't enough glaze.

4. sprinkles: don't be afraid to use them. and by "use them" i mean USE THEM.

5. mishaps: if the donut's frosting sticks to the wax paper and peels completely off when i unwrap my donut, you best be providing me with a new donut.

6. maple dip: it's delicious.

those are the rules america. please abide.

the following is an example of what all donuts should aspire to be:

1. heart shaped.

2. pink frosting.

3. heart shaped sprinkles.

4. loaded with custard.


the "cupid's choice" from dunkin' donuts got it right - so obviously they only make them once a year...

all i'm asking for is everything i want. i really don't think that's unreasonable.
love so pauvre

we like target ok?

last year on valentine's day bear and i were at city hall applying for our marriage license. this year we went grocery shopping... the romance never dies!

anywho, prior to our weekly food shopping excursion we exchanged valentine's presents even though we both agreed not to buy each other anything. whoops...

bear likes cartoon bees. it's a thing he likes. so obviously this bee bag (from target) had to be involved. i filled it with chocolate cherries, peanut butter hearts, a heart shaped chocolate turtle, and a heart shaped tin with a cookie inside (all from target).



i like pink elephants. they're a thing that i like. bear surprised me with this pink elephant bag (from target) stuffed with beautiful heart printed tissue (from target).

inside were these two ridiculously adorable pillow friends (from target) that i've been visiting (at target) for weeks. the cherry on the cupcake also has a little face and the apple is a green apple on the back. I LOVE THEM. yes, i'm aware that they are for children. and no, i don't care. i'm just going to set them next to the two giant heart pillows (from target) i have on the couch and live happily ever after in my adorable pillow nest.

my valentine also included this BEAUTIFUL gift set of limited edition SOY FREE chocolate confections from theo (not from target). ginger rose, honey saffron, pink salted vanilla, and lavender jalapeno caramels??? bear is getting SO MANY kisses later.

a fox with her valentine bear and his beaver tin (from target). "WOOD you be mine???" come on. not since "a happy day is BRUIN for us" has there been a better animal related valentine pun.

fuck you target.

if anyone needs me i'll be lounging in my adorable pillows, eating my beautiful chocolates, and trying to understand how i got so lucky. (ugh. so gross.)

love so pauvre

happy valentine's day!

that is all.
love so pauvre

eat your heart out (of the cookie jar)

the only thing better than cookies is heart shaped cookies. with heart shaped sprinkles. on a heart shaped plate... i like hearts ok? jeez.

after my seven hour gingerbread baking nightmare at christmas, followed by the subsequent death of my "these kind of taste like poison" sprinkle collection, i decided to hire a helpful bear as my baking assistant this time around. things tend to go a lot smoother when a bear is involved. did you know that bears make excellent baking assistants? they like to do the tedious jobs that foxes hate - like using a rolling pin (instead of just smashing the dough with my hands), cutting out shapes (with minimal swearing), and cleaning up (i love him).


with bear doing my dirty work i was free to focus on decorating, which is really the only reason i like baking anything. for gingerbread cookies i like to use trusty ol' cake mate icing tubes because i'm lazy and i like the taste of chemicals.

this upsetting display is all that remains of my sprinkles. i used to have SEVEN different sizes and colours of heart shaped sprinkles alone! i can only hope that time (and buying more sprinkles) will ease my pain...

can we please discuss the cuteness of baker assistant bear decorating cookies? it makes me feel so many feelings.

so many feelings.

as with my cupcakes, i try to achieve a healthy ratio of frosting to baked good. i don't understand math, so i don't know what ratios are, but i do understand cuteness and i feel like it was achieved.

how did that little black grinch heart get in there?

aside from the overwhelming feeling that my gifts are squandered each day that i'm not working in a bake shop, i was pretty pleased with the results.

not at all wasting my life,
love so pauvre