Kolika Elle Kirk's Open Salon Blog

Just How Noxious Can a Person's Pee Get?

Tue, 9 Mar 2010 23:03:56 -0500

When I was 19 and got out of a physically abusive relationship, I moved into my best friend Riley's apartment in NoHo, Los Angeles. We were in the Downtown Los Angeles Public Library store when we came across a book by the collaborative mind Benrik. It was called This Book Will Change Your Life.

In this book was a 365-day guide of doing random, fun, wacky tasks throughout the year. Every day was different. They had days such as "Write a letter to a serial killer" day or "Test to see if you have psychic powers" day or "tattoo a banana" day. As a budding foodie, I took particular pleasure in Day 17, Test How Noxious Your Pee Can Get day. This was accomplished by eating a pound of asparagus. It sounded like such a hilarious thing to do during my New Years vacation at Dad's house, I posted a YouTube video about it, budding vlogger I was.

That day, I bought a whole pound of asparagus at the nearby Fry's. I didn't want to ruin or compromise the noxious-pee-making qualities of the asparagus itself, I wanted to make it simple. I put them in the oven in a baking dish, dressed with extra virgin olive oil, salt, pepper and thyme. I then made a light beurre blanc as it roasted(a quick ten minutes at 375 degrees, please) to dip it in.

It was honestly the first time I'd ever had asparagus since that trip to Cancun when I was 13. (Nothing funny! I was in a 5 star hotel with my Dad on vacation!) It was bacon-wrapped asparagus, served with lobster tails and crab-coconut soup. Man, those Mexican hotels were awesome... Either way, it was a bit of an experience.

Asparagus is...well, it just tastes like a healthy, fibery food should taste. If you were to describe asparagus to a person whom had never tasted it before, you would most describe it to be a cross between flower stems and sunshine. Light and powerful, yet earthy and with the very essence of what a vegetable should be. Fibrous. Fresh. Green.

When cooking asparagus, one needn't anything more than some salt and pepper, maybe a little butter. This is a noble vegetable that is best left pure. Blanch it and wrap it in crepes! Chop it up into a salad! Or roast it and eat it with beurre blanc. When introduced with a complex-tasting vegetable like this, best keep it simple. Stick to the basics, you know?

Another cool thing about it is that it's extremely high in iron, and that's a good thing considering I'm Anemic. It just so happens that I had recently switched doctors around that point in time and he said that, with a few diet changes, my Anemia could be controlled a lot better! Turns out that, during this video, I discovered that asparagus is my new favorite vegetable! Until I went to the bathroom that day.

As I peed, I didn't feel any burning, but halfway through the fumes of my urine stream came up SO FUCKING FAST AND HARD that it punched me straight off the toilet. Seriously. The smell was so gnarly that I literally stood up from the toilet as I was peeing and ran down my hallway, bare-ass, screaming about the smell.

I'm pretty sure that my toilet had a new half-life after that pee. And the wood floor in my Dad's house. And the panties I soiled. Thank Goddess I was alone.

By the way, here's the link to my original blog post on the Benrik website. Enjoy!

Facing Fears - Geese are the Devil

Fri, 5 Mar 2010 02:03:40 -0500

Many girls have irrational fears of spiders, death, snakes, small spaces, getting fat, or even the dark. I am not many girls, in saying I'm not afraid of any of those things. I'm afraid of more...shall we say random things, like racoons(a rational fear, considering those filthy buggers are rabies-infested and mean) and of dying alone(which is also rational, considering I'm clingy and needy and all that jazz). But those things would be highly difficult to face, considering I do not live in a woodsy area and that it's going to be, hopefully, a good sixty or so years before I kick the bucket.

I only have two absolutely stupid and irrational fears, that are almost severe enough to be phobias. I will admit it to the world right now. Hello, world! My name is Kolika and I am a Courlophobic--otherwise known as me being deathly afraid of clowns. Seriously. Fuck clowns. The only interaction I ever need to have with a clown is it's freaky red nose saying a very forceful hello to my clenched fist. If clowns disappeared from the face of the Earth tomorrow, I will run naked down the street screaming "Glory be Hallelujah" at the top of my lungs. But I'm not facing my fear of clowns. I have no need to nor want to. I hate clowns. So what's the blog about?

Geese.

I'm actually really afraid of geese. When I was three years old, I was happily feeding the ducks at Reid park when a goose, which was my height at the time, a goose came up to me and not only ate the popcorn out of my hand, but bit my fingers and bit me in the belly button. I started screaming for my mom, but that fucking Satan goose started screeching as loud as I did and began flapping its wings, in an attempt to summon Chthulu from the depths of the lake and drag me to Hell. It chased me around the circumfrance of the lake until my mom came back from the bathroom and my grandma noticed...whichever came first. Either way, fuck geese.

Now that I'm nearing age 22, I realize that it's an irrational fear based off of a traumatic yet hilarious incident that happened in my childhood. And not just then, either! Geese have had it out for me since the day I was born. Everywhere I go they find me and honk at me, piercing visions of terror with their freaky long necks and freaky big wings and freaky knobby bills. But I, being a Wiccan, feel that being one with all creatures(save clowns) is a must. So I decided to face my fear when I was sixteen.

I was at the park with several friends one afternoon, barbequeing and having a blast. We were chatting and I decided to face my fear of geese. I told all my friends that I wanted to do it, and they, of course, laughed at my story of when I was three. But I just wanted them to know so they didn't think I was too crazy for going up to a random goose and talk to it.

So I walk over to the lake and pass a few ducks, going into the water for a dip. I then see two geese. Two big, fuck-off geese. Sitting right there--one brown with spots and the other white as snow. They're sitting there, under the tree, looking so innocent. But you can't fool me, geese; you can't fool me because I know the malevolence you hide beneath those downy feathers and webbed feet.

I make eye contact with the white goose. It sees me and sits up, looking at me. My toes curl up in anxiousness; oh Goddess oh Goddess oh Goddess.....what do I do???

I take in a deep breath and hold out my hand; the goose squawks and walks away. I do a double-take, unbelieving that a goose is running from me. I walk closer to it and both of them get up and walk away. I start laughing, and begin going faster and faster as the geese put up their wings as if to fly and start running away. I laugh hysterically in victory.

"That's right, goose! You can't hurt me anymore! I'm bigger than you!" And as if to say "fuck you, Kolika, fuck you," the Goddess imbues the white goose with supernatural rage and it does a perfect about face and starts screeching--AAUUUCK! AUUUCK! AAAUCK! And flapping its devil wings, calling Chthulu and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse to turn me back into a scared little girl. Next thing I know, I'm screaming at the top of my lungs at the top of a tree that I actually climbed to get away from the goose. Insert "fml" moment here.

So facing my fears turned out to be one of the worst experiences I'd had. But it's okay. I got back at all geese when I had a roasted goose for Christmas dinner that year. I tore apart that carcass with my bare hands and ate that with such relish it almost was sick.

It's not the most glorious or inspiring story about how a girl overcame her fears...but that's what happened. I'm still a little afraid of geese, but it's okay because I know that geese are delicious and I can roast them to perfection if I need to.

Chocolate Souffle For the WIN

Thu, 4 Mar 2010 12:03:34 -0500

It's no surprise that I'm a chocoholic. It might actually be a surprise to those of you here knowing that I've never had a souffle before my prickly pear souffle project. It was good, but it wasn't the quintissential French souffle that I needed to have under my belt as something for a repitoire. It was on a lovely, crisp and wintery evening that I decided to make a surprise dessert for Dale when he came home.

To make a chocolate souffle is different from the other vanilla-based souffles, obviously, not just because of the flavors but because of the chemical reactions that happens with chocolate and baking and othersuch things as that. Chocolate bakes differently than vanilla! So we need different things.

First thing you do is melt 7 or so ounces of semisweet chocolate(a cup is 8 oz, if that helps) and melt it over a double boiler(or a pyrex bowl over simmering water, in my case) with 1/3 cup of very strong coffee. An odd combination? Absolutely not! Chocolate and coffee is one of those can't miss deals. Coffee actually enhances chocolate--if you want to make your favorite chocolate cupcake recipe pop, just add a tablespoon of instant coffee. The depth of the flavor will be unbelievable.

So while my chocolate was melting, I measured out my other ingredients and preheated my oven to 400. Also, butter and sugar your souffle dish and make a collar of aluminum foil so that the lip will rise another 3 inches or so. It takes a bit of working to pinch it on, but trust me. You will need this extra support for your souffle.

Eggs are separated of course, and milk, flour and butter are beaten and melted together in a saucepan until nice and thick. Then, one by one, you beat in each of the egg yolks until well incorporated. Then the chocolate, then the vanilla extract--

Wait. Vanilla extract? I don't have vanilla extract! All I have is... Oooh wait. Imitation almond extract! (I'm allergic to the real stuff, so I like this for baked goods.) I add in that extra bit of flavor and mix it in. Immediately, the smell changes...delicious! And since I have to hand beat the egg whites, I cover the top of the sauce base with plastic wrap so I don't let a skin form.

To beat eggwhites by hand isn't quite an easy feat, but it's not quite hard. It'd be easier had I no carpal tunnel, but whatever. It's actually more like stirring with a giant balloon whisk! Stir very quickly with your balloon whisk for about 30 seconds, or until your eggwhites start bubbling, and then add a pinch of salt. Speed it up and stir it up! Whisk that! Beat that shit! Make those egg whites your bitch! And just when it's begging for mercy in the soft-peak phase, sprinkle in half a cup of sugar and whisk it into super-stiff peaks!

A note: should your egg whites become overbeaten and lose that glorious sheen, simply add another egg white and beat it in. Honestly, it won't affect your recipe.

Fold in your egg whites a little at a time, but for GOODNESS SAKE do NOT overmix this! Best to have a few white patches in your chocolate sauce than overmixed souffle. Turn this into your prepared souffle dish and bake at a turned-down temperature of 375. This bakes for about 35 minutes, and when the top cracks...this is the fun part.

Sift on some powered sugar. Like, right on top. then pop it back into the oven for another 10 minutes. You'll know it's done when you open the oven and it's as if you've died and gone to Heaven. Chocolate souffle is quite a sight to see. And the powdered sugar melts JUSTenough on the very top to give it an amazing sheen.

Chocolate souffle, or any chocolate dessert for that matter, should be left ever so slightly underdone. Otherwise it will lose that charactaristic, creamy texture it has. And chocolate souffle is almost like pudding. It's SO damn good! Dale and I scooped some into bowls and almost cried it was so good.

So I highly recommend chocolate souffle. It's easier than you might think--the only thing you need FOR SURE is a souffle dish. Otherwise, it won't work. Trust me. I tried baking one in a bundt cake pan when I was 16. It failed. EPIC failed.

Letter to Myself: Don't Change

Fri, 26 Feb 2010 21:02:54 -0500

Dear Me,

I've always felt that letters-to-self are stupid. I suppose you know that--mostly because we haven't really changed much from age 16 to 22. But, for the fun of the Open Call, I'll go ahead and humor...whoever it is that's reading this and act as if my 16-year-old self has somehow become corporeal and is able to exist in the same plane and time and place as I am just long enough to hear this. This should be fun.

First of all, I want to congratulate you for the things you will do. You'll have to go through more than enough hell to get it, and I mean the Hellish nighmares like you see in those trapped wife Lifetime movies... No, you're not going to be a trapped wife, but you're going to be close. Don't be scared. Don't kill him. Don't alter your future in any way. Trust me... Don't change anything or go against your instinct, even though you know it's wrong. Do you know why?

Even though you're a pioneer amongst young women, and want so much to be a leader, a poet, a dancer, a shy and wounded bird...even though you're conflicted and confused. Don't worry. Or do worry. Do whatever it is you want to do. Keep on doing it! It'll pay off! Trust me. You end up in a wonderful place. If you change anything about your future plans because of this letter, then you'll ruin us both! We end up happy. In love. We end up in a career we could only dream of. We do amazingly. And we're only 22!

However, for the sake of the letter and giving some advice, listen up for these things to look for, just in case you get off track:

Take wrong turns. Buy a strange book. Obey your emotions even though everybody else tells you you're wrong. Cry. Suffer. Cover your bruised arms so nobody will see. Don't eat for awhile, then stuff yourself. Become obsessed over Ran, Alex...allow yourself to be swallowed by love. Oh, and don't forget to sign up for that YouTube account. OH!!! And please don't forget to sign up for Okcupid.com. You don't meet the love of your life on there, but while you're looking for him...you meet someone who introduces you to him! Yay for you!

Oh, also... If there is one thing you could change...will probably want to change in your future....avoid Brandon. He brings you nothing but trouble.

But one thing I want you to remember...you're worth something. You're always worth something. Don't let other people tell you that you're not. Don't let people tell you you're a slut for having sex like a man would, or tell you that you're worthless and you have no self-respect because of the way you act. You do have self-respect and that's WHY you're able to do the things you can do. You can do something they can't do: Get off.

Oh yeah. And, even though it's a major bummer to us both, you don't recover from your almond allergy any time soon. When you're 19 and working in Los Angeles at a Handbags manufacturer, you break out into hives because of some chocolates you didn't check very carefully. If you want, you can avoid that, too...

Signed, yours truly,

Kolika, age 22

PS: Joe can go fuck himself. That hat was fabulous, and he only said that to hurt your feelings.

F#ck my Life

Tue, 23 Feb 2010 23:02:27 -0500

As I'm sure you'll all remember(at least I hope you will because it was only a few days ago) that I lost my phone and had a nervous breakdown. Remember how I was told to "clear my head" before I would get it back? Well, I did take that advice. After a few sessions of crying and cooking and othersuch therapudic things, something lovely happened.

Dale and I were lying in bed yesterday morning, enjoying a very nice couple moment. We were spooning and snuggling, and in that moment of half-asleep and half-awake. We were sighing contentedly and everything was silent...except for this weird kind of buzzing sound I kept on hearing every once and awhile. Finally, it annoyed me enough to say something to Dale.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hmm?"

"Shh..." The buzzing happened again. "It sounds like a phone vibrating... Check your messages."

Dale reached over me and groggily grabbed his phone from the nightstand, his hair in an anime-esque disarray. "No," he said, "no messages or calls...and it's not even on vibrate..." The buzz again. "It's probably just your imagination..."

"No! Shush..." It buzzed again. "What is that? I swear its... ... ...!!!" We both looked at each other. I leapt out of bed and onto the floor, I listened for the vibrating again, and it was coming from...the foot of the bed? What the hell?

I dug through the pile of clothes that was there, and.... VOILA!!! There in my coat pocket from the other day! The whole time! I knew it! I jumped up and literally gave a whoop of joy!

Then I went into the kitchen and Chodoi had peed and pooped in three different places... But to be fair, I had slept in til 10:45 and I usually get up to walk her around 8 in the morning. So I kind of felt like I couldn't be that mad at her.

Also, how is it that a dog the size of a holiday ham produce poops the size of a buffalo? Seriously?! It's like her colon defies the laws of physics. It's as if the food I give her during the day is not only digested, but somehow multiplied and extruded over exponential amounts throughout the day. So help me Goddess, exponential amounts!

Chodoi had her class that night. It was about behaviors and how to correct them. We also covered loose-leash walking. Dale came with me, and Chodoi did amazingly. Sure, she got distracted every once and awhile by the people that couldn't respect that we were in a class and kept on petting her...but whatever. She still did well. She ate so many treats for good behavior that she barely touched her supper that night.

Dale and I turned in sort of early. I walked her this morning, but the only point was to get her to calm down a little, as she had already peed on her pad.

Today was national pancake day, by the way. Did anybody know? I was lucky enough to make crepes for it today at work! I don't know if the other chefs there knew...but I was kind of laughing inside when they said "Okay, Kolika, you're on crepe duty!"

I was so happy. In a new job, one that I loved, a great boyfriend, a sweet little angel of a dog, and now I had my phone back! My beautiful, perfect, white/aqua Zebra-striped decalled Samsung Gravity! I was able to get in contact with family, and even talked to my mom for awhile. She went on about how stupid it was for my old job to shaft me on my overtime and that I should do something about it. I was just too happy to have my phone back that I said that it wasn't that important and that the Universe would deal with them.

There were a couple of take-out orders today, so I got about $7 worth of tips. Dale and I bought a medium pizza with artichoke hearts and chicken on top for his break. We were talking about how Javier's birthday was tonight and that he felt bad about working right then.

"Honey, you're going to go after work though...aren't you?"

"Yeah... But I just wanted to be with him all day. Now I'm stuck working."

"Okay, I'm really sick of this--why do you do this?"

"What?"

"Complain about working when a.) we need the money, and b.)...just be quiet already!" I knew it. The tensions from the past month had finally reached a point of pressure. "Why are you inventing problems for yourself?"

"But my back hurts... I'm so tired."

"You're always tired! Your back always hurts! And how can you be tired--you got to sleep in this morning!"

"Chodoi kept me up--"

"So? She woke me up at 5 am every morning for the first three weeks we had her. Stop fucking whining--GODDESS I am so sick of hearing it!" Silence. There were a few more words exchanged, some less confrontational ones. They were the awkward 'after-the-argument' dialogue words that couples exchanged. Dale went back into work not long after. I can't say I felt sorry for what I said, OR how I said it.

I mean, I love the man to death, but there is only so much "venting" a woman can take before she snaps. I hate it when people are so fucking apathetic and whiny about their own lives that they have to invent problems like that. Sure, I'm guilty of it once and awhile, but not every day. Every day I hear about how bad Dale's life sucks, at least once or twice a day. I wish I could help him, and I tell him that...but he says there's no point in me trying.

Um, then why are you telling me about it? If you don't want me to fix it, don't talk to me about it. And he doesn't even keep it to himself well! He sulks around the apartment with the "dead puppy" expression on his face until his misery drives me crazy enough to ask "Alright, WHAT?"

Ahh, but I digress. I feel better after these rants... Oh, and don't worry. He not only doesn't read these, but there's nothing in here that he doesn't already know. Besides, he knows how I feel. And such...

So I drive home thinking about how no wonder I've been miserable and wound-tight lately. His misery crowds the apartment and he won't shut up about it. Plus, I don't handle certain things well. I was glad that I had my phone back...and still, oddly, glad that I was in a relationship with him. Life was good.

And then I got home. Chodoi greeted me at the door and almost ran out--what the FUCK?! How did you get out of your pen?!?!?!

Not only was she out, but she had taken two MASSIVE DUMPS on the carpet and torn apart our bedroom. I picked up the poop, picked her up by the scruff of the neck and smacked her in the face with the poop bag a few times so she'd know to NEVER EVER EVER DO THAT SHIT(no pun intended) AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So right. Even though I've had a good thing happen to me, and even though I'm generally in a good place... I think that the isolated incidents over the passed few days can allow me to say:

Fuck my life.