Teenaged

So there's this girl who has been sitting on my stoop all day. I am pretty sure she lives in the building cause I've seen her before. And I don't know for certain that she's been there all day, but let's say it's been an hour or two. I would guess she's fifteen. All she's doing is scrolling through her cell phone and flipping it open and closed. I mean, I haven't been watching her continuously, but as far as I can tell. It's important to note that I don't have one of those grand, Brooklyn, Do The Right Thing kind of stoops. The stoop is an inch and a half higher than the sidewalk. The point is, she's almost certainly just sitting out there cause she has nothing else too do and doesn't want to sit her apartment because of family or heat or whatever, but mostly boredom. At least things might change a little on the street. You know cars drive by. Occasionally there are bicycles. The point is, do you remember how boring it was to be a teenager?

Thinking back, I have no idea what I did to pass the time when I was fifteen. Except Shakespeare summer camp, of course. Leila and I took the T to places like the Cambridgeside Galleria because were so used to the Copley and Prudential malls that they were boring. Malls are categorically boring of course, so it seems like we must have been bored once we got there too. And I guess I listened to the radio alot then as well. Which means that I must have spent alot of time at home near the radio. Jeez. So much time just passed in my life without anything happening.

So far this summer has been incredibly boring. No offense to anyone I have had a great time with in the last month. The days are just full of pointless scrolling through internet pages and long walks and magazines. I feel like I am waiting for my life to happen which is how I remember feeling when I was a teenager. And it's really dumb because I'm obviously old enough to know that you have to make things happen and that sitting around drinking coffee like a dullard is not how to do it. Which is unfortunate because lately that's all I've wanted to do.

Melons

Recently one of my coworkers told me that pure watermelon juice has an almost immediate laxative effect if consumed in large enough quantities. I haven't remembered to test this claim with research or experimentation, but it would be a sort of weird thing to fabricate, so I believe it. Then today I read this about the arousing effects of watermelons. Which leaves all of us (or so I imagine) wondering about the intersection of these two unexpected properties of this refreshing summer fruit. Which is sort of a gross image and generally involves too many seeds.

Failure of the Algorithm?

According to IMDB, if I like How She Move I might also like Porky's and The Notebook.

Like Wearing a Hat of Someone Else's Haircut Over The Haircut I Asked For

Dearest Readers,
Do not get student haircuts. My "long layers" vary between three inches and a foot and a half. I think I might have to pay real money to get this monstrosity fixed. On a side note, if you get an obvious haircut, will anyone who notices tell you it's awful?

Announcement: Growing Up

I'm alone in the apartment for the week. Which is mostly sad and lonely. Especially because without Richard I always forget how to watch TV and just spend hours on end watching TLC. And really how many makeovers can you watch before they loose that magic?

But about five minutes ago I had this sort of epiphany. I was putting my dinner leftovers in the fridge and all of a sudden I was overwhelmed by how grown up I am. Like the beginning of a Meg Ryan film, I was sitting on the couch sipping wine thinking about my life. I refrigerate leftovers and do my dishes after I finish eating. I am fastidious about my fiber intake. I carry band-aids in my wallet. I even remembered to buy dental floss today cause I'd run out.

And I'm turning twenty-five. In five weeks. I've been obsessing about it for the last couple months and I'm finally comfortable with being a quarter-century old. I know it's silly to get hung up on a number, but everyone has to face the stigmas attached to growing up at some point. And I'm ready to grow up a little.

So here's the announcement: I'm gonna be a lawyer. I took my first practice LSAT today. Helen is kindly lending me her prep books. Logic game practice isn't going to be the funnest summer activity I've ever undertaken, but there's a sort of thrilling challenge to them from a certain perspective.

Top Seven Songs

So I've been tagged. In my opinion this is one (very small) step up from sending along chain letters or involving friends in pyramid schemes (though I only know about those in so far as they played a role an unusually boring episode of Mad About You), but I am going to respond. I am not, however, going to tag afterward. Mostly because I don't really know anyone who writes a blog who would actually respond to a tag. Except maybe Tommy. So go ahead if you like, Tommy.




I am supposed to list my top seven (why seven?) songs at the moment with explanations for each. If I were to be completely honest this list would consist entirely of songs by Mary J. Blige, but since the explanations would all be "She's so awesome," I thought it would be too boring even for this blog. So here it is. Seven songs I like a lot right now. Keep in mind that I exist in a strange musical bubble.

1. "No More Drama"- Mary J. Blige
I picked this as the representative song of my Mary J. obsession in part because it awesomely uses the theme song to The Young and the Restless (which Mary J. awesomely name checks in the lyrics). But most importantly, I think it's a lesson we can all stand to learn, no matter how many times we've heard it since 2001, "No more drama in my life." Yes.

2. "Happiness is a Warm Gun"- The Beatles
According to my iTunes (which knows nothing of what I listen to away from my computer) this is my most played song. Which makes sense because I sort of rediscovered it a month or two ago and ever since then, it will just pop into my head and I'll need to hear it. Mostly I get stuck in the beginning, "She's not a girl who misses much..." It has a great build and a great chorus as a pay off.

3. "Everybody Knows This is Nowhere"- Neil Young
So for about three weeks in April I listened to this album constantly. It started out when I heard a live version of "Cowgirl in the Sand" during a yoga class and the line "It's the woman in you that makes you want to play this game..." repeated in my head so many times that I went out and bought a used copy of the CD (because my dad's copy was in Boston, which is too far away to steal. Or borrow). So the title track is my favorite right now because it has those light hearted "nah-nah-nah, nah-nah, nah-nah"s on the chorus and I think that's appropriate for the season.

4. "Are You That Somebody?"- Aaliyah
Full disclosure? I downloaded this playlist of the "Top 100 R&B Songs of the 1990's." Treasures untold.

5. "Warrior"- the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs
So when I'm at the gym and I'm feeling more aggressive or angry or something, I listen to the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs instead of Mary J. Blige. It's not often, but it happens.

6."A Case of You"- Joni Mitchell
... is probably my favorite song of all time.

7. "Try a Little Tenderness"- Otis Redding
This song will forever be attached to that scene in Pretty in Pink when Ducky spazzes out in the record shop and does those crazy pelvic thrusts. But I've been listening to lots of Otis all spring. He's wonderful.

So yeah. Nothing on this list is particularly current or interesting, but that's just the kind of music I listen to. No apologies.

Book Discussion Group: On imagery and nostalgia

On my way home from work tonight I had this strong bout of nostalgia for a college I never attended. It was a longer wait for the F train than usual and I was reading to pass the time. I started Americana by Don DeLillo earlier this week, mostly because it seems like everyone is always talking about how great he is, and even though I don't feel like I'm really into it (like I won't read another chapter instead of going to sleep at night), I like it. Anyhow, between the wait and the train ride I was probably reading for almost an hour. And I was thinking about this conversation I had with my friend Jean last night about descriptions of place and how important they are to stories and, at least so far, Americana takes place in New York City, so the descriptions are vivid in this way that they are not only so obviously and brilliantly concocted out of images from the mid-twentieth century cultural zeitgeist, but they are also images and places I live among everyday (or at least to the extent that I am in Manhattan, which is often enough).

So my nostalgia had to do with this fantasy I have about what life in "normal college" dorm is like. In this nostalgic reverie I pictured myself returning to the dorms at one-thirty in the morning and going down to the second floor (because my nostalgia is specific enough to place me on the fourth) to knock on the door of some dreamy English major I knew would be up (probably reading Proust or something awful like that). Anyhow, we would sit on his bed at a perpendicular angle to one another, with my back against the wall at the head of the bed and his against the wall against the length of the bed, and eventually, after dissecting imagery and the power of the ego in literature or whatever words we were using to mean "It's really fucking good the way he says that," I would tuck my feet under his thighs and we would feel really close but probably not even kiss because those situations always feel too heavy and cliche anyhow.

This fantasy is fraught for several reasons, starting with my cynical disdain for English majors and Proust. But also because it reveals the ways that my college experience was purposefully a-typical in a way that highlights how my late teens were to a large degree shaped by a desire to be "a-typical" and how it's strange but I sometimes regret that. But really only because lately my life is full of times like now when it's after three in the morning and I can't think of a single person who it would be appropriate to call in order to discuss literature. Maybe I'm just too old for that.

But when I came home I was glad to find Richard awake and we drank beers and watched the season finale of Greek, which is really a fantastically sincere show, but maybe feeds my college nostalgia-regret fantasies a little too much.

One summer I did this writer's workshop at UMASS Boston. I was turning fifteen and my parents didn't really know how to handle the too old for camp, too young to let loose balance. I didn't produce anything so fantastic (except perhaps that poem about bathrobes that I might be able to recite to this day), but I wrote this one essay that was published in the magazine at the end of the course about writer's block, pasta salad and my toes. This post is basically a rehash of that story, ten years later (oh god, I am so old. Pour me a metamucil). Also an excuse to mention my fantastic sneakers.

Sometimes it seems like social interactions are comprised of exposition ("I have done x, y and z things since we spoke last"), debate ("Obsessive attention to capitalization is NOT a valid reason for disliking e.e. cummings as a poet") and advice. I think I might be really into advice. Both giving and receiving. I don't know that I'm good at it, but there's something rewarding about the exercise of figuring things out through conversation. Lately whenever I am giving advice, even to myself when sitting on the couch wearing one shoe, the word perspective comes to mind. I feel like I use it so often that it is becoming meaningless. But when I look at things objectively it becomes clear that the only reason I feel a certain way so strongly is because of the circumstances around me. Give it a try. Is there really any problem you have, like something that's bugging you or unsatisfying, that couldn't be changed with a shift in perspective?

When I was talking to my mom the other day I came to realize that it's probably impossible for a single person not think about her love life. Even if you aren't really wanting to date or meet people, if you aren't with someone part of you is probably looking. It's a strange cycle and it makes things sort of annoying. I don't want a boyfriend but being single is kind of a chore. I wonder if people who have taken religious vows of celibacy are really completely free of this. Or if it's more an exercise in pushing away thoughts of sex and romance. I actually can't remotely comprehend the cloistered lifestyle. It's awful but my life is completely selfish in ways. And selflessness on that scale is... something other than what experience as life.

To be frank (because who really reads this anyway?) I feel a little bit funny about what I write on this blog and how personal I get and what the real purpose is. That last paragraph is probably the most I've ever written about my love life. Sometimes I have ideas for posts that would betray a specific event or feeling I'm having and I get nervous because I think that someone else will feel betrayed or that my exboyfriend will read it or blah, blah, blah. But I was thinking about the last few months and from my usual perspective (visualized as a stick figure on a director's chair in my brain) I haven't been doing much. But when I looked back at an old email I wrote in March (and never sent) I realized that there are a lot of things that are pretty different now. I was fatalistically perceiving time since I broke up with Josh as a flat line of events (work, walks and whiskey). But actually I'm in a totally different place now. And if reading something I wrote could make me realize that, could alter my perspective if you will, then it really is important to keep writing regularly and hope that the self-involvedness will dissolve eventually. Phew.

FIN

On Love

Tonight I was in a public bathroom reading the graffiti on the stall door (as is my wont) when I realized that the common symbol for love (a heart or <3), when paired with an "s" to make it grammatically correct, looks a lot like the common abbreviation for versus (that is vs). Although an amorous woman may have written Deidre "loves" Shaun (intending <3), it's easy to imagine how their time at the Irish pub might have ended in more of a Deidre "versus" Shaun kind of way. Which is just another way that our symbolic language is working much harder than we think.

Sunshine and an Announcement

Perhaps the best way to approach weather.com is as a silly diversionary activity. For example the hour-by-hour forecast is currently showing little thunder clouds every hour until five but my window looks like this:



The glare of sunshine obscures the fact that there isn't a single cloud in the sky. So I am going to open more windows and pull back the curtains and drink coffee and listen to Rubber Soul for a little longer then get dressed and walk to work. Screw you, weather.com.

But I have exciting news for you all (if anyone even reads this anymore). I am going away. Not permanently or tomorrow, but definitely going, going, gone. So for the months of September and October this blog may return to its original mission statement. I'll be subletting my room in Park Slope (anyone who's interested should enjoy television, wine and Samuel Beckett) and heading below the equator for the first time in my life! Right now I am thinking about buying a one way ticket and making my way back north with many stops along the way. So are you in South or Central America? Will you be in the early fall? Do you think there's somewhere I absolutely must see? Let me know!

Finally, I promise that I'll think about trying to be better at this blog. I am honestly in a very strange place in my life right now and sometimes it's impossible to put what I'm thinking into typed words that others might read. Mostly because it would read something like a kitten mewling at the door when it's starting to rain.

"In My Life" has just started to play and I can see the bottom of my coffee cup so I should sign off now, but I miss you all.

What I Should Be Doing With My Time

1) Flying.

2) Getting a good night's sleep.

3) Planning for the future.

4) Blogging?

Slate, Apartment Clean

Yesterday I managed to have a pretty low-stress (for me) dinner party. I made super easy comfortable stuff and we drank a ton of wine and it really wasn't a big deal that no one really knew anyone else. Anyhow, it made me realize how very much I love my apartment. There were only six of us here yesterday, but the room felt so full. Not uncomfortably so (it does when there are eight...) but just happy full. The yellow on the walls and the brown lap shade made it soft and warm feeling. Sure the chairs aren't that comfortable and the legs seems to be coming off one of them, but I love the way everything has been found, acquired, bought for a couple dollars and the overall effect is so unified and personal and feels reflective of me and of Richard. So it's really great to have people that I've met in various places all sit in this space and drink out of these cups that I found in a shoebox on the street.

I am feeling excited actually. Not because I am really doing anything special. But because I know that I am about to. I think it's a sort of thing with spring time. Right now it's still pretty chilly most days but the sun has been consistently brilliant. It's great because I have all this time and the stupid-big sunglasses so I can just walk where ever seems sunniest and soak in all the vitamins (or just D, really). I am thinking and planning and having ideas and throwing them out. It's like exercising a muscle. The change muscle. Feels good.

Not by way of explaination exactly....

but when you're crying lying down, the skin behind your ears gets wet. It tickles in an infuriating way.

Welcome Home, Indeed!

Yesterday, as our plane was taxi-ing into the gate at JFK the pilot announced that it was 15 degrees Farenheit outside with winds of up to 25 miles per hour. If it were relevant or customary, upon take-off earlier that day he would have announced that the outside temperature was hovering between 78 and 80 degrees farenheit with nary a cloud in the blue, smog-streaked California sky. Yes, I am home. California was just about perfect. The weather, sights, friends all wonderful. Like an early Spring now cruely plucked from my too easily fooled finger tips.

When I finally ventured out of my apartment this evening to buy some lentils (friend to the broke and irregular) I wore the following clothing:

(underwear and bra, given)
1. tights
2. boxer shorts
3. jeans (in that order, yes)
4. wool knee socks
5. other wool socks
6. hiking boots
7. t-shirt
8. hoodie
9. wool sweater
10. wool coat w/ lining
11. wool hat (under pulled up hood)
12. wool scarf
13. glittens

Recommended: Other People's Blogs

I know it's annoying to read posts that are all about not posting, so we'll leave it at this: I have no excuse. I am just not that good at it...

Ok, but here's the thing. I have some friends who really are. Leila, who has been my friend since sixth grade and lives quite near me now (might be moving closer! fingers crossed!), writes a blog about Boston restaurants as her job. In addition she has a personal blog and a tumblr (I don't really understand that phenomenon but it's fun!). For those keeping score that's three blogs she updates exponentially more frequently than I update this one blog. Additionally she is funny and informative while she does it. Were we not such good friends it might be intimidating.

Tommy, another old friend, though one who lives a little farther away, is also a very consistent blogger. He really posts everyday. And not because he's participating in some contest like me in November. His blog is basically about whatever he wants to talk about but he is always very earnest. It's striking how much he sounds like himself when he writes (or in his videos, but that's not the point). It's very charming.

Finally my room mate, Richard also makes his living writing blog post (and making advertising work right). In addition he has a personal blog that is also much more frequently updated than mine. While the subject matter is somewhat random he certainly has me beat for late-night, inebriated content. Whereas most of the posts I write after a bottle of wine are little more than a mess of misspelled words* and non-sequiturs, his are filled with a poetic self-deprecation that is both apt and hilarious. That's probably why he posts his and mine remain in the draft folder.

So if you're here and wondering why I haven't posted in a while (though it's probably because I'm on vacation... three days!!!!) you should try any of these trusted recommendations. Also if anyone knows how I can make one of those fancy link bars in the margin I'll include them there.

*Richard is my personal spell check (notably in the tags and titles where my general spell check doesn't work).

Haiku for Tonight

I have spilled lots
Of things in my purse but cough
Syrup is the worst

Un-Endorsed: Cuervo Black and Cola

So I just saw an advertisement (which played after midnight sandwiched between ads for gentlemen's clubs) which instructed me how to order a "Cuervo Black" and cola. Ok, so from what I can tell Cuervo Black is different from normal Cuervo because it's aged in charred barrels for longer. And according to sources* it is meant to appeal to an older, more discerning tequila drinker. And sure, the dudes in the commercial looked like the thirty-somethings in shiny shirts who hit on girls in bars who got in with fake ids. And to me Jose Cuervo is pretty much for eighteen year-olds bribing hobos in front of the liquor store (I hear). The thing is, you order Cuervo and cola the normal way but when your drunk bartender only hears the word "Cuervo" you just remind them not to reach for those shot glasses. Let me tell you about drinking tequila with coke. It's yucky. It tastes like coke until the end when it has that terrible tequila raw egg yolk essence. Truly, you can age your tequila in candy coated cola barrels and it won't taste good with coke. Let's get real.

*I actually don't intend to list my sources here.

[insert song lyric here..]

So on February 2 I am boarding a plane and leaving this cold mess of a city behind for a week. Josh and I am going to land in San Francisco and drive down to LA. It's actually a totally thrilling, glamorous vacation to be going on. We're going to see lots of friends and some giant trees and the Pacific Coast in all it's mid-winter splendor. If you are a secret reader of this blog and you live in California let me know if you want to hang out. Or if you have a suggestion of something we totally must not miss (especially in the Santa Barbara area where we are planning to spend a night to drink some wine and break up the driving a bit). Let me know!

Fashion Advice

So I bought boots online. You may know that I am inherently mistrustful of internet shopping. But I tried them on in a store first (in a different color) so I knew they'd fit. But now they've come and I am having my customary second thoughts. Unable to bring you, my trusted friends, to my apartment (because if I wear the boots outside I can't return them) I need your advice here on the ole blog.

Finally! The Butternut Squash Soup Recipe

By popular demand (or perhaps a g-chat message from Rachel) here is the recipe for the butternut squash soup I made yesterday:

Ingredients:
1 butternut squash, peeled, de-pulped and cut into chunks
1/2 onion (normal size, like a small person's fist) diced pretty small
2 in. of ginger root peeled and chopped
A pinch each of nutmeg, cinnamon and Cheyenne pepper (bigger pinches of the first two than the last)
2 cups chicken broth (give or take)
2 Tbs. heavy cream (or whatever seems good)
A bit of butter

-So you melt the butter in a heavy pot and saute it onions until they're pretty soft.
-Add the butternut squash, ginger and chicken broth, add water to cover the squash most of the way
-Bring to a boil, then add the other spices and a couple tablespoons of salt.
-Cover and simmer until the squash is soft (it took me 15 or 20 minutes).
-If there's a lot of liquid, strain it.
-Put everything in the food processor and whirl it around till it's pretty smooth.
-Add the cream and whirl some more till it's fluffy.

Oila! You're done!

I did not garnish my soup because I wasn't feeling too ambitious last night, but you can be pretty creative. Scallions or chives would be a good call. Or pumpkin seeds. Or sour cream/yogurt.

Keepin' it Smooth '08

So I don't like to brag here, but I got a pretty sweet gift for Christmas this year. A food processor. Like a real fancy, Cuisinart one. It's so sleek, so easy, so smooth-making. And although I did use it to make crusts for my annual New Year's Day quiche (little too wet, not so easy to roll), tonight I did an awesome food-processor-enabled thing. Butternut Squash Soup.


I have to say that this is one of my very favorite types of soup. And I do like soup. I just don't think it would be possible to effectively deliver the consistency that gives this soup that certain je ne sais quois (disclaimer: spell check doesn't work on French) with a hand-operated device. I'm sure all you Luddites out there reading this blog (you know, on computers) will balk at my newly mechanized kitchen habits, but really is there any other way to get that smooth, nearly fluffy texture? You see, what I did was add heavy cream during the processing of the soup. And it sort of fluffed up. Perfect.

And I hope this doesn't make you too jealous, but I'm going to eat it again for lunch tomorrow.

Who Wants to Hire Me?

So I have been finished with my internship for about two weeks now. Mostly I have filled that time with the holidays and cleaning up after them. I have also begun several projects of varying sizes I had been putting off for a long time. Mostly these involve minor improvements to the infrastructure of my apartment. For example we now have a coat rack in the hall so our living room chairs aren't littered with outerwear. Our toilet paper holder is now fully attached to the wall in the bathroom. My next project involves some new furniture pieces and a change of light source for the kitchen (the horrible florescent sucks at my soul). Perhaps less obviously productive I have begun to watch the much praised television series, Battlestar Gallactica. I'll write more about that in the future, don't worry.

The true purpose of this post is to beg for a job. I don't think I can work nights and intern during the day anymore. The schedule is too taxing and my personal life, sleep patterns and diet all suffered. And while I do like my night job.... well, it's time to grow up. And so, dear internet, I send out this earnest entreaty for all the world to read: I work hard, learn quickly and have the will/desire to learn a new trade. Please hire me.

Can You Feel the Love Tonight?

So I take cabs home a lot lately. Especially because the train never seems to stop at my stop after 11pm. And even though Michael Bloomerg has guaranteed me a quiet ride it seems most cab driver prefer to listen to the radio. Which I like because the silence of not understanding Farsi is sort of deafening at four in the morning. Tonight my cab driver was one of those who prefers soft-rock (great, but never David Allen Boucher). And while we were driving I had the pleasure of hearing my favorite (it's so hard to choose!) single from The Lion King soundtrack, "Can you Feel the Love Tonight." And everyone who knows me for the sentimental sap I am will realize that I was immediately reminded of the Freelance Troope in elementary/middle school and how we all sang along to that song at the cast party for Young Country, wherein I was Rachel Revere, wife to the famous patriot rider and silversmith. Yes, for a moment in the cab I felt one with Robin Gordon-Levitt and Stevie Weinstein-Foner once more... but now, all I am is tired and wishing I wasn't working in the morning.

An Open Letter to Gift Givers

To All Those It May Concern,

At the risk of sounding ungrateful, I would like to provide a parameter of sorts for all gift-givers out there. Say you find yourself in a crafty clothing/jewelry/gift store while shopping. Say a certain something catches your eye. And this something is not exactly pretty. Or useful. Probably it's not like anything you have ever seen. You may find at this juncture that your thoughts turn to a certain young woman on your gift-giving list. Perhaps a woman who wears bright colors or clothing with an unusual style. I urge you not to buy this item. Even though you are surely thinking, "This is funky she'll certainly like this." In fact, ninety-nine times in one hundred, if you find something "funky" (that is a mostly positive term used to describe an object of unusual style or dimension), the recipient will agree that it is "funky" (that is possessing a terrible odor, at least metaphorically). I feel confident speaking for all such young women when I say they would much prefer something boring, useful or mundane.

With this caveat I wish all of you the very happiest of holidays and I submit the following photographic evidence to make your days even more merry and bright.

Love,
Rose



*Yes this hat is made of polar fleece.

Sunday Cooking Diary: A Prelude

So the weather is fucking awful right now. I guess you might say it's sleeting. But what that wouldn't convey is the bitter cold, wind and wet ice. Well, maybe it covers the wet ice part. The point is when I left work tonight I saw about four girls in skinny high heels fall down completely. But in spite of the weather I went grocery shopping. You see, Pot Luck Club is tomorrow and it has been time shifted to three pm. Many would note that that is fully the middle of the day, but when one considers when I normally rise on Sundays... well, you get it. Going to the grocery store is practically out of the question tomorrow. As it is, I didn't remember to buy paper towels or coffee which are probably equally indispensible to tomorrow's game plan. When I got home I decided to wash all the dishes in the sink.* This really puts me on my mark for waking up tomorrow (maybe not the caffine and absorption marks). So I don't regret it, really. What I sort of regret is my decision to watch DVR'd 30 Rock and drink a finger or two of the big bottle wine Richard left on the counter. Elaine Stricht is totally worth staying up for, but I think it's too late for me to see trailers for Sweeney Todd without getting too hot and bothered.

*On my way in I met one of my neighbors who is also a waitress and was coming home in the wet. My building isn't 100% geriatric! Comraderie!

Photo Gift!!!

Richard and I decorated the apartment for the holidays on Wednesday. Basically that consisted of a string of lights around a doorway, a few tiny Santa hats scattered about and what might be the world's smallest, saddest LED Christmas tree from Rite Aid. And while photographing the sad tree would have maybe been hilarious, nothing would have been cuter than my Christmas cactus wearing a Santa hat.



Happy Holidays!

Grammar Rant

Remember how I was talking about the somewhat counter intuitive writing style empolyed by publicists pitching books? Well at the risk of being repetitive, what the hell?? A couple of weeks ago I asked if I could write a pitch letter for a book. Basically just to get a little practice and have a sort of writing sample for applying to other jobs. So I read this book (not so good) and wrote this letter and today I went over it with the publicist (whose name ultimately appears on it) so it can be sent out next week. Among the many silly changes like loading up the first sentence with participals and adding the phrase "ensued upon a freight train," was the completely erroneous decision to change "She expertly employs the first person..." to "Expertly, she employs the first person..." WHY????? In what way does that make anything clearer? Why would you take an adverb away from the verb it modifies? It's just senseless!

Live From the Apple Store Soho, Part 2

Poor computer, hard drive fractured to nothingness, for so long repeating dreams of warm California sun streaming through the window of a computer lab as capable, screw-driver wielding fingers put its insides right. And it was not meant to be. Little Apple will remain in New York and might be ready as soon as tomorrow (or later tonight when I have no intention of going back to Manhattan). So now I wait. For those keeping track this is my second Mac to need a hard drive replaced (rewind to September of 2001, a month after receiving my first Mac laptop). I am not deterred though. I will continue my fifteen years of brand loyalty.

Look out for lots more of me using my computer in the future!

Not Dead Yet, A new Haircut

So my computer is metaphorically hanging from a cliff with all but the index, middle and ring fingers of its right hand broken, but still it's working a little bit. I have logged no fewer than 100 minutes with Apple Care (all during prime, daytime, costing me money hours because you can't even get past the muzak on nights and weekends). Still they have not told me they will take it away to be fixed. I will try once more in a few minutes and if they don't concede I am going to chain myself to the glass cube at their fifth avenue store with "Apple DOESN'T Care" written across my naked body.

In more positive and totally unrelated news, I got a haircut today. For the last several weeks a six inch by six inch dread lock formed in the back of my hair daily, so I knew it was time. I am pretty thrilled really. After explaining to my stylist that I didn't even own a blow dryer let alone a diffuser attachment for it, she showed me how to achieve this "sexy" curly/straight combo do without too much work. And also gave me some good tips on my increasingly embarrassing dry scalp. So here it is. What do you think?

Check It Out

So I guess I am not really so good at music. You know, I like it, I just don't know so much about it or how to find stuff I like. I rarely even remember to listen to it. But I heard this song today and it's really good. And there's a hilarious video. So enjoy!

Computer Hell

So maybe you remember two weeks ago when my computer was in mortal peril, threatened by some malignant and all-consuming disk error? After performing three hours of symbolic surgery I thought our problems were over. How naive! The freezing, stalling, restarting cycle has continued. Today the disk utility said:

Verifying volume “Macintosh HD”
Checking HFS Plus volume.
Checking Extents Overflow file.
Checking Catalog file.
Invalid sibling link
The volume Macintosh HD needs to be repaired.

Error: The underlying task reported failure on exit


1 HFS volume checked
Volume needs repair

Terrible! "Invalid," "failure" and "repair" all seem like the sorts of things you don't want your disks to do or need. Greg and Brian (and Brian's girlfriend Marissa) are all very knowledgeable computer types and they saw the way my computer was working during my lunch shift at Aroma today and said it was absolutely super serious. So now I am on a fifteen minute wait line with Apple Care Support services since going to the Apple Store on a Friday during the holiday shopping season would be like entering the gates of hell. I am pretty sure this is going to end with my needing to send poor little computer to California for intensive Apple Care.

In some ways I guess this is perfect timing, the last day of my month long pledge to post everyday. I don't think such a commitment would be possible without a personal computer. But I really had planned to continue. Because eventhough no one ever really comments or particularly reads what I write, I really like it. Even though it's something so small, creating a product (a post in my case) everyday is very fulfilling. So come back, dear readers! Once this crazy computer problem is fixed it should be an awesome December on Eating Pie Elsewhere.

Alert!: Blog Attack!

I was just reading the internet when I happened upon a fascinating comment by a person with an eerily familiar name:

"November 26th,
2007
11:43 am

Is this news or editorial? I hope the latter, but it’s VERY BAD JOURNALISM to not indicate one or the other.

Now in terms of accuracy…

The AP reported 6 incidences in the US AND Cananda, not just the US as you imply. Calling the Taser ad campaign “weird” is editorializing. And finally, Taser agrees with AI’s finding that more intensive training is needed, but you brush it off as though it’s lip service (”more easily said than done”).

And I’m sort of unclear as to why Taser’s own site would use the word “torture” on their site. It’s an advertising site, why would they want to advertise it could be used as a “torture” device? Is that what you’d prefer?

I have mixed feelings about the Taser — I wish there were better 3rd party studies, and don’t feel I can make an informed decision without that. But this article just sparks as anti-Taser propaganda, and I find that an irresponsible use of your position as a journalist.

-Pie


Thanks for that correction — it is six all together. And Taser’s Web site addresses much of the criticism against its weapons, but not the torture question. That was the point. –Mike

— Posted by EatingPie"

Fucking Crazy, right??? What to do now? Do I continue the thread? Is this a subvert, Interwebbed overture of love? My mind is racing with possiblilites...

Weighing In: New Schedules

Oh but I work so hard! It is late, I know. But forgive me, dear internet! I am simply on a different time table than other people.

You know how people talk about how Thursday is the new Friday or even Monday is the new Wednesday (a completely meaningless proposition which more than one person has told me of)? Basically there are so many reasons to perceive your week as other than the norm. But when it comes right down to it, everyone has a different week. Some people party hardest on Thursdays and spend the rest of the weekend chilling. Some people wake up early on Saturdays and Sundays to go on adventures or shopping or to the moon. (Can you tell that I have no idea what goes on in the morning hours on weekends?)

In the immortal words of a t-shirt Ryan Runstadler once bought at the Gap and later gave to me: Time is an invention. And if you aren't ready to accept that, than at least admit that the construction of the week is an invention. And a shoddy one at that. It seems like a nice idea that everyone would be able to work and rest at the same time, but it's not plausible in modern society. Who would serve us brunch? Who would pour us drinks and sell us movie tickets? Who would pump our stomachs of alcohol and other toxins?

Wednesday Cooking Diary: Chili

Chili is absolutely the easiest thing to cook. Ben, my roommate when I was nineteen taught me how to make it. I am pretty sure that his dad just told him over the phone to dump a bunch of cans into a pot and cook it with chili powder. Over the course of that year, when I was as poor as I ever plan to be, we tried putting lots of different things into the pot. Mostly it always tastes good, but now I have settled on a pretty good method:

-I start with a small yellow onion and three medium sized garlic cloves, all diced.

-I saute this with a pound of ground turkey until there aren't any pink parts left (this is a post-Philly addition. I could not afford luxuries like ground turkey that year).

-I add some diced up green pepper, a little bit of red bell pepper (little sweetness, little color), a can of whole kernel corn, a can of beans (kidney tonight, but often black) and a large can of diced tomatoes in juice (not with basil). Sometimes I add some diced jalepeno. HEAT!

-Add three heavy dashes of cumin, a dash of cinnamon, three heavy dashes of chili powder... When I want it spicy, I do some cayenne. Longer cooking time is better for maximizing flavor, so tonight it's going to simmer for close to an hour.

My favorite thing with chili is cornbread and so I often do the Jiffy boxed kind. It's really tasty, really easy. Which is good because I am so tired.

There's not real cooking time necessary on this. You want it to be soft, you want it to be flavorful.

Recommendations:

1) Goulash night at Cafe Steinhof: What a deal! Every Monday this Austrian restaurant in Park Slope serves generous bowls of goulash for only six bucks. They also have fried trout for same price but it's a little less reliable. Also they have Gaffel Kolsch on tap and I think that's one of my favorite beers ever. It's on the corner of 14th St. and 7th Ave.

2)No Country for Old Men: I admit that I covered my eyes a lot, but the movie is really great. It's very suspenseful and has an awesome ending, but the performances are really worth going for. Also, wide angle lenses never looked so good.

3)The Time of the Wolf: This movie is intensely tense if that even means anything. The director, Michael Haneke is incredibly adept at creating a narrative with convincing characters but not so much extra stuff that you get bogged down in the details. There's a really interesting analysis of his work in last month's Harper's. Also the young woman who plays the daughter is incredibly good and nuanced and beyond her years as they say. It's really worth seeing.

Friends!

Becca arrived in New York a couple hours ago and will be staying through Thursday or Friday morning. This is really thrilling since she normally lives clear across the country and is visiting for the first time since I started living with Richard. I'll be working lots as I normally do on Tuesday through Thursdays, but it's still going to be very exciting. I even took Wednesday night off to hang out. Let this be a lesson to all of you far away friends. I love guests. Come visit!

Weighing In On: Guitar Hero

Is not so great, actually.

Other things that aren't so great are bong hits and staying up until five in the morning eating stuffing and pie.

This weekend has left me exhausted.

Turkey Cooking Diary, Photos

My dad called them "the girls." Which is also what he calls me and my sister. Weird.



Working my magic.



Giblets!



An example of how crowded it was.



Fifteen cousins (missing Stephanie).



Friends!!!!!

The Pie Report: Thanksgiving Recap

Perhaps you thought I was going to go through Thanksgiving without a single mention of pie. Of course you would be DEAD WRONG. One of the benefits of having thirty-nine people over is the volume of pies accumulated. We basically had every major pie group (within seasonal limit).

The Pecan Pie: I was so full by dessert that this is the only pie I had immediately after dinner (other pies were sampled mostly by hand, in front of the fridge at three in the morning). The crust was particularly crumbly, I would guess an all butter, no shortening recipe. But I think this works well with pecan pie. I do like it to be a little gooier but I think that was mostly a function of pan size. For me pecan pie should always be on the crispy side (because of the glorious nut caramelization effect). This one was a strong example of the form.

The Pumpkin Pie: It was not until the Great Leftover Distribution that I realized that my aunt Marian, who has five children and works nights as an ICU nurse, made BOTH this and the pecan pie. Wow. Anyhow I have no agenda against canned pumpkin. In fact the opposite might be true. I would say it's one of my favorite canned vegetables. I am pretty sure the filling started in a can, but the texture was very good. The crust was definitely the same as the pecan, but not as crispy and so not as crumbly. I do like a little whipped cream with my pumpkin, but generally our desserts were without garnish, so it is forgiven.

The Creative Pie: There's usually one dessert made each Thanksgiving that breaks with tradition. My family is pretty big on tradition so it's never anything too crazy. This year my mom's cousin Joanie made a cranberry apple pie. The filling was really quite tasty. It might have been a bit more tart, but with a group like this you probably want to play it safe (to my shock and dismay the chocolate birthday cake was significantly more popular than any pie in attendance). My major critiques were pan depth (too shallow) and crispness of crust. Although the sugary, pale crust can be quite tasty and is certainly typical in recipes involving strawberry-rubarb fillings, I am always in favor of a more golden, more flakey crust.

The Family Tradition: Since I was a child the swiss chocolate pie has been a staple of the Thanksgiving stable. My uncle John's birthday is the 22 of November and it's his favorite so usually my grandmother makes it. My grandmother isn't particularly interested in the tedium of making crusts so normally the pie consists of a chocolate filling in a pre-made graham cracker crust with whipped cream topping. My aunt Allie made the pie this year and did a cookie crust from scratch. It was stilling very gooey (the pie needs to be served at near freezing and we were low on freezer room yesterday) but quite tasty nonetheless. I am obviously more partial to the spiced offerings (apple, pumpkin) but this was the only dessert to yield no leftovers.

The Apple: My mom makes amazing apple pie. This is actually a proven fact. She brought one to Maine when we went with Josh, Ryan and Alex and they still talk about it. And honestly I didn't even have any yesterday. Because while apple pie with a little melting scoop of vanilla ice cream (we didn't even have ice cream yesterday) may taste pretty fantastic after a meal, nothing compares with a breakfast slice with some bacon or chicken apple sausages on the side. And that is the thing I am truly thankful for.



*In addition to the briefly mentioned chocolate fudge birthday cake there was also a cheesecake and pie crust cookies called "zizis" in the dessert spread.

Turkey Cooking Diary

So I did it. Well... apparently I under did it and it had to be done more but I pretty much cooked a turkey today. It was remarkably smooth going compared to my mother's process. Whenever I felt like there was a lot to do I just looked over and saw her cursing the stove or her potholders or the ironing board. Calm by comparison, that's the ticket. I would like to recommend that should you choose to cook a turkey, it's probably not a good idea to get drunk the night before. Should you try this you might find that the very sight of raw poultry skin could make those awful nauseous chills go up and down your arms. Not to mention the awfulness of standing next to a bowl of cherries and apricots soaking in brandy. So gross.

Happy Thanksgiving!

AHHHHHH!!!

I thought I was getting a ride from Park Slope at one but I am actually getting a ride from Manhattan at noon.... I slept until ten! I haven't packed or showered! I planned to bring a case of wine and all my laundry! How am I ever going to make it??

Mary J.

Yesterday I was sitting in my living room when suddenly a song began as though someone had pressed play on a tape deck in the very next room. It was the first verse of my elementary school favorite "Real Love" by Ms. Mary J. Blige. In retrospect I am pretty sure it was coming from a person making her way up 12th street very slowly, but the car stereo was balanced in such a way that the instruments and beat were totally gone and all that you heard was voice. Guys, I was basically transported. The weirdest thing is that it started and ended right with the verse. I never heard the chorus. Anyhow, I think it's best for me to take it as a sign. Perhaps a sign that I should dig up some of those early 90's classics (I know I am ready for a little more En Vogue in my life). Perhaps merely a sign that my little plaid hat with the brim (so much like Mary J.'s signature!) is in fact the right fashion choice for the moment. Regardless, I just wanted to tell you, Madame Blige, that I am, as always, listening.

The Most Perfect Video

My obsession with the Muppets is pretty well known. Josh and I often fall asleep to the melodious strains of season two of the Muppet Show. Perhaps slightly less well known is my love/hate fascination with Liza Manelli. It's so captivating/horrifying how she is always so ridiculous and over the top but also never anyone besides herself. I would hazard to guess that only Leila and maybe Tommy really know the depth of my affinity for the Copa Cabana Song. And who but the Internet could deliver such a magical synthesis? Only Liza could deliver the maudlin undertones of this heartbreaking story song with six foot furry co-stars. Bravo. No. Brava!

Preparing Turkey

With Thanksgiving right around the corner, my thoughts naturally turn to flaky crusts and gooey fillings. This year, however, I will also be taking on a new and somewhat stressful responsibility. I am going to make a turkey. Mind you it won't be THE turkey. My parent's are hosting an intimate Thanksgiving for forty; there are soup kitchens that will be serving fewer people than my mother on Thursday. One turkey simply will not suffice for that many people. And so, my mom is making two "little" turkeys, her cousin is making one and my grandma is making a turkey breast. In this situation "little" means fourteen pounds, so really there's going to be tons of meat. I suggested to my mom yesterday that she try this tasty lemon and thyme roasting preparation I used on a chicken a few weeks ago. And somehow this suggestion led to my agreeing to prepare one of my mother's two allotted turkeys. So now, rather than the backseat helpful position I normally take at Thanksgiving (or any other occasion for my mother to spend seven or more hours in the kitchen), I will be right in the middle of things. Lovingly basting my bird with a paste of olive oil, lemon juice, garlic and thyme. Surrounded by shrieks offset by burning pot holders and dropped pies. Happy holidays indeed.

Weighing in on Holiday Songs

This year musical and commercial manifestations of the Christmas season started immediately after Halloween. To be fair, I wasn't in the country at this time last year, but in my memory there was a lag period of at least a week. I started noticing lights in trees and on sign posts around Columbus Day. They weren't lit, but it was so early I wondered whether they were premature or left over from last year. On November 3 I heard Christmas carols in the lobby of a movie theater. Really it's too much. I am already entering retail stores in fear of hearing that awful Chipmunk's Christmas Song ("Huuuuuula hooooooop!").

My friend Jess has begun a correspondence with Boston radio station WROR addressing their plan to play ONLY Christmas music between last Monday and December 25. The producer who responded to her very reasonable letter basically said, "You're no fun." But really, making the Christmas season eight weeks long seems like a sure way to drain all of the fun from it. Even my mother, who normally is a pretty level headed person, has fallen victim to this marketing scheme. She is going Christmas shopping today with a bunch of lady friends (and many of them are Jewish!). The madness must stop. Just as the presidential campaign should not begin two years before the election, the Christmas season should not begin two months before the holiday.

Why So Hateful, Internet?

Do you remember how I used to make those ridiculous videos when I was in Amsterdam? Well the only way I could make them appear on the internet was to upload them to a video site to host them. So those videos, mostly forgotten by myself and the people I intended them for (that's you, dear readers), have been collecting dust on YouTube for over a year now.

Recently I received a notification that someone had commented on one of my videos. Actually I received two notifications of two comments in the same day. Confusing, really since I hadn't looked at my YouTube account in over six months. The comments were from some dude in Michigan telling my I suck. Twice. In one day. Today I got another comment on a different video from a charmer in San Diego calling me gay.

Let's be real now people. If you are looking through YouTube and came across a video that looked like one of mine, why would you even watch it, let alone take the time to comment on it? I'm not trying to whine about people being mean on the Internet because it's a tiresome topic, but it seems a person must be blinded by malice to take the time to tear apart such poorly made, ridiculous stuff. I mean, maybe my friend from Michigan is a big fan of the often forgotten musical Mame and feels personally offended by my treatment of one of its beloved songs? I mean I doubt it, but maybe.

Clean slate.

My computer is all better!

Live from the Apple Store!

Bad news, EPE fans. My computer is very very sick. I just consulted with Francis, an awkward, blunt Genius who has told me that at any point everything on my computer might be erased and gone forever! My only option is to back everything up, wipe the computer and reinstall the operating system. Apple thinks this is simple and something I can easily do myself. I am not so sure. I am going to attempt this technological miracle working this evening but should I fail (or fall asleep or whatever) this blogging everyday thing could become quite tricky. I'm not making excuses (yet). Hopefully I'll be back tomorrow with the freshest, cleanest computer of all time. For now, pray for my poor computer as she is about to go under the digital knife.

Tasting Notes: Bitch Barossa Grenache

So in case anyone wasn't aware, tonight was the premiere of Project Runway. And it also coincided with my getting off work early. Sometimes the gods smile upon you! So Richard and Cathy were here when I got home and I stopped by the liquor store I was drawn to this bottle. Maybe it was the name (basically) or the pink label, but I chose this wine called "Bitch." I figured that if there's any night for a girly wine, this was it (we also do Gossip Girl, so...). I've already told you about my grenache, garancha, connonau or whatever phase. When I went to the register I was embarrassed and said so. But the saleswoman (from behind bullet proof glass) was like, "This is my favorite wine. It is so good." There was something about her black lip-liner made me pause. You know how when you drink a lot of red wine it sort of your lips? I have bought many lip glosses with names like "merlot" or "burgundy" to mask this issue, but this woman seemed to have gone the opposite way. She was embracing it. She continued, "I take a bottle home every night, but tonight i"m gonnna take two because I always want to drink more of it." Yeah, I could use another. Damn. It is really delicious.

*So I had actually consumed this bottle of wine when I first wrote this post. So I had to edit it a little. You know, to make it coherent.

** Also 2006 is the current vintage not the 04 pictured. It's really young and light.

The Photocopier

I have been photocopying for about seven years now. Of course I dabbled before then. A couple of pictures for a school project. A literary "magazine" in fifth grade. Nothing really serious though. I actually can't remember the specific circumstances surrounding my first serious copying job. But it was definitely at Latin. I am pretty sure I was a senior. And I was making lots of copies either as a detention or to get community service hours. Alternatively I might have been illegally copying scripts for the drama club. Whichever way, the circumstances were ridiculous. And because I was clearly not a teacher, teachers almost always felt entitled to cut in front of me.



I am pretty much in the situation now. Generally being a publicity intern is the very bottom of the pecking order. When an editorial assistant or someone from accounting needs to make a quick copy they are usually apologetic and ask nicely. But editors and other senior or important people just jump right in. I know making five copies of a two sentence blurb about an appearance Paul Krugman made in Chicago over a week ago is ultimately not the priority for ANY part of the company. But it's what I have to do.
So yeah I know it's not that important, but be a little bit nice when putting someone's menial job on hold.

Tasting Notes: Fruity Wines, also excuses

Fuck. Technically I did not post on November 13. But since it has been November 14 for exactly eleven minutes and since I have already demonstrated the blogosphere's (ugh... actually the worst word I will ever use on this site) bias against service professionals, I consider myself forgiven. And while I was considering making this post about excuses for not posting earlier, instead I am going to write about wine which I never do even though it's a pretty big part of my life between my job and all the time that I am not working. But briefly:

I didn't post on November 13 (technically) because...

-I had to make a super great impression at my internship today because everyone was out of the office and I was in charge of the phones and handling emergencies. I mean, no emergencies happened, but I talked to an art history professor at Penn State about how he could access information on a book that was never even published in 1943.

-My computer is hopelessly ill. I was going to have Mac geniuses suckle her to health today but I had to be at the work that pays me annoyingly early and the work that doesn't pay me annoyingly late (see below and above respectively).

-I worked tonight. And even though I was only there for six hours, I contend that those six hours 4:30 to 11:30 are really prime blogging time.

And by way of transition... While I was at work tonight I tried a few new wines. This is actually a pretty frequent occurrence since I work at a wine bar and we have a terrifically lax drinking policy for staff. But tonight we were doing this ridiculous tasting for a party (I mean, thirty people who were drunk before they started have six different wines while STANDING??? Fuck that), and they were having some pretty good wines. Of course when we do tastings we are pouring smaller glasses and they are priced according to the number of people not the number of bottles. So basically there was some really good stuff left over.

Anyhow, one of the bottles was a wine called Sulleria (which normally has an accent over the I but I don't know how to make my computer say that), which is a 2003 sangiovese/nero d'avola blend from Sicily. Actually I am not certain of the year which is bad. But this is like the Polaner All Fruit (the kind you can't call jelly) of wine. It's rich and deep with fruit, chocolate, some hazelnut elements. The shit is off the chain. And they were having it with these shortbread cookies topped with a hazelnut and chocolate panna cotta. Wow. It's packed with so much fruit but with these other elements, it balances. It's ridiculously rich, but it's so good.

So after the shift I was sitting at the bar having a snack or dinner, depending on your perspective, and I tried this cabernet that we are doing by the glass. It was also pretty fruit driven. But while in the Sicilian wine the fruit tasted like it was super ripe and still warm from the sun (Sicily is, like, hotter than most places in Italy), this cabernet from Alto Adige (which sort of snuggles up against Austria) has a bright cherry thing happening. And that probably has a lot to do with the climate. It finished almost spicy too, which somehow seemed off balance. That's pretty strange for me since I am into spicy wines and am maybe going through a particular phase with them (see the bottles of garancha in my recycling). But the thing that really made this wine just lose in my book was the damn new oak. Yuck. It is so bad.

Basically I haven't mentioned that the Sicilian wine is on our list for $80 a bottle and we sell the cabernet for $10 a glass ($36 a bottle). So that should be considered in the comparison. But I have never really tried to write about wine before and it's good. It makes me think about it more clearly and see where my biases are. And I'm sorry to subject you to my snobbery. But really, no one is making you read this.

*I don't know this guy. But he looks like an old professor of mine.

Reviewed: Torchwood

I have been living with crazy-fancy cable for three months now. But it was only two weeks ago when I was sick that I discovered BBC America On Demand. And with this discovery I also found Torchwood. How can I begin to explain? The show isn't particularly well produced. Special effects tend to come out of nowhere. Characters often remain undeveloped for countless episodes before taking center stage. Story lines almost always end completely cleanly at the end of each episode. But, but, but... I have always had such a soft spot for science fiction and they approach the subject soooo broadly. Fairies, aliens, time travel... everything. And they have that exuberant BBC approach to sexuality. Practically no one is straight. And there's basically no such thing as fidelity. And when they do finally get around to developing characters, they have a fairly subtle approach. What more do you want from television? I swear, watch a few episodes and you'll be hooked.

Sunday Cooking Diary: Magical Rainbow Curry!

So tonight is the first installment of the new Pot Luck Club I am joining. I am making a meat dish this month. Which is sort of surprisingly hard because I love the veg. So this morning I decided to make this herb stuffed, spice rubbed turkey breast that Rachel Ray made for her 60 minute Thanksgiving. On a side note, in an earlier time Rachel Ray's speed and skill with the yum-o factor would certainly engender accusations of witchcraft. Anywho, I printed the recipe and went to brunch with Arjun and Anthony thinking that I would stop by Whole Foods on the way home.

Apparently I didn't bring the recipe with me. Fortunately, the ever resourceful Anthony had a magical internet phone and found the recipe for me. Unfortunately, Whole Foods did not have any fresh thyme. Or cilantro. I mean, what kind of sham of a supermarket are they running? Frustrated and nervous about the time frame for the pot luck club, I desperately sought inspiration. Suddenly, a bright purple bulb caught my eye. And it was cauliflower! Purple cauliflower!

Arjun had the good idea to make it into curry (and not just because he's Indian, if that's what you're thinking). And so I quickly bought a yam, some carrots and some chicken legs. When I was chopping, I realized that all the colors were so bright and vibrant, I ought to call it rainbow curry. I also added some kale for green.
And for a while it was looking really lovely. Sort of liquid-y but really nice. This was not meant to be. The curry I just put into a tupperware is pretty much brown. I cooked it way too long and all of the cauliflower broke down and bleached out. It is easily the least appealing looking thing I have cooked in a long time. Boo-hoo.

So I have developed a back-up plan. I am going to wow everyone with 64 delicious oz. of Six Point Sweet Action beer. That's right, I bought bulk beer. And the bottle is refillable. Good plan, right?

Games!: Mystery Photo

So basically the name of the game is guess what the photo says about me today. Unfortunately I am off to work.

Hover Car Solutions: Brooklyn, north and south

Because I work on Saturdays, Friday nights are my only chance to do weekend things with my normie, day-jobbing friends. For me Fridays are more like Thursdays, since I work the next day, but generally I try to go out and do social things. Tonight I am confronting the common problem of where to go. Since I moved to Park Slope in July I have had to negotiate the divide between northern and southern Brooklyn. As manifest by my move, I prefer the south. But Josh and many of my friends still reside up north. And so, I am faced with a forty-five minute G train trip before even eating dinner. Times like this make me question what all of this technology in our lives is really for. I mean, maybe I am going to press the "publish post" button in a few minutes and you, my world-wide friends, will be able to instantly soak in my words, but I will still languish on a rickety subway car for near to an hour to travel only five miles. I mean, I might as well take a stagecoach. Actually that would be faster.

A List: Things I Have Cut with My Wine Key

Various types of sales labels out of clothing.

Limes for gin and tonics while sitting on a park bench.

Packing tape on boxes.

Badly tangled parts of my hair (gross).

My hands.

My coworkers (accidents!).

Word Association

Do you ever find yourself thinking about the Aztec god Xipe Totec when typing in the web address for my blog? Xipe Totec was worshipped mainly by flaying the skin of live human sacrifices. Something about the pieelsewhere or, more specifically the "pieel" portion of the url always makes me think of the this image of the god. I think it can mostly be attributed to my studies of spanish (piel= skin, right?) and the verb to peel. So if any of you have been similarly reminded of human sacrific by this website, I assure you this was not a conscious part of naming my blog. Sorry

Reviewed: Lunch Meetings

As an intern I am not afforded many opportunities to go to meetings. I am even less likely to be invited to meetings with a meal included. Happily today was rare occassion wherein my presence was requested, nay REQUIRED, at a lunch meeting. To be perfectly honest, the meeting was expressly designed to address the concerns of interns in the publicity department, so the circumstances were a little unusual. But the moral of the story is, I got free lunch. Which really makes me wonder about that recent New York Time article about how annoying it is to meet with people over a meal. I know the article mostly described breakfast, but it seems like a particularly upper-class position to take to me. A person in my economic position pretty much always benefits from a lunch meeting:

1) The lunch is paid for by some larger corporate entity which saves you money.
2) You are "working" during lunch and therefore logging hours, but still

3) getting to spend a good deal of time outside of the office in the middle of the day while the sun is still shining. And let's face it, the sun is not shining nearly enough these days.

4) It promotes a sort of conviviality so often missing normal office interactions. For example, maybe you hadn't seen your co-workers purse before and now you know that her mother is a handbag salesperson!

A person disinterested in these obvious benefits is most likely:

1) Unconcerned about the cost of lunch due to a high salary.

2) Unconcerned about how hard it seems she/he is working because her/his job is already secure.

3) Job security allows this person to take midday strolls or yoga classes or coffee breaks.

4) Heartless and uninterested in others (maybe a reach).

But screw the richies. I say lunch meetings are great. And they allowed me to have a delicious curry chicken sandwhich and and fluffy maccaroon rather than cold leftover kale (which I'll eat tomorrow, but still).

Lunch Meeting grade: A

Monday Cooking Diary, pt. 2: Glorious Kale!

So my kale recipe? Was fucking phenomenal! I mean, not to toot my own horn but, Jessica Seinfeld take note, this is how to make people eat vegetables. I did modify the recipe a little as per the very helpful message board. I used more curry and a combo of low sodium chicken broth and some very old apple cider that was languishing at the back of the fridge (apparently it's better for cooking that way!). Also the seven hours in the slow cooker makes for some crazy tender beef. I wish that the broth was thicker and the flavor of the parsnips had come through more, but other than that I felt pretty good about the meal.
So anyone have ideas for what I should try to cook next? I need an eggplant-free meat dish to bring to the Pot Luck Club (the name is an extremely subtly play on the title of the Amy Tan novel) on Sunday and then dinner for the boys on Monday. So let me know. What's delicious? I'm up for a challenge. Cause if I fail, you know I can just write a better blog entry about it.

Monday Cooking Diary, Pt. 1: Crock Pot, Talk Shows

Many of you may know that I am fairly new to eating mammal flesh. It's been about a year and a half now, and I have tried lots of things. But honestly I haven't cooked that many of them. So today I decided to take on beef stew. It's sort of perfect for the season, not just because it's getting chilly, but also because root vegetables are so delicious at this time of year. In a lot of ways stews are the perfect place for tubers because the other stew items lend the fleshy veggie chunks savory flavor. Reciprocally the starchiness of root veggies makes the stew thicker. My final inspiration was the fact that Josh has a crock pot (in the interest of full discourse, the crock pot belongs to his mother, he has been borrowing it since last winter).


Not to sound like a crazy TV advertisement but cooking with a crock pot is embarrassingly easy. Basically I bought a bunch of vegetables, some beef and a couple cans of Murphy's Irish Stout (I don't buy Irish stout in a bottle, it's not right). I chopped everything up and put it into the crock pot at two o'clock. It'll be ready around nine. I didn't even use a recipe!

This has left me with a lot of free time. I plan to make some kale (more on that later) but I don't need to start until eight-thirty or so. So I have basically spent the day in full domestic mode. I'm sure it would be ok to leave the crock pot a while, but it makes me nervous. An independent, heat-causing appliance left on while I leave the house??? Surely my father would climb through the phone lines from Boston to prevent such a mistake! So I have mopped, tidied, done dishes, done laundry and watched several daytime talk shows. Of course the hosts covered a variety of topics, but Ellen, through some bizarre cosmic synchronicity did a CROCK POT themed episode today! She was making some gross looking stuff like eight hour chicken breasts cooked in salsa. Which in turn makes me feel better about the delicious smells wafting from my kitchen. Yes, I think it will be alright. Look for an update later tonight!

*Did anyone catch the Tyra show today?? It was called "What's up down there?" and was awkwardly about gynecological health. I mean, has the Vagina Monologues done nothing in its eleven years of production? Does anyone want to learn about menstrual synchronicity and HPV from a woman so prone to dramatic facial expressions and self-involvement? It's embarrassing!

Worst Entry Ever

I wouldn't consider myself the neatest person around. My morning dressing routine is essentially trying on five or six bottoms and tops and depositing them all on the ground. So by the end of the week I am left with a room closely resembling the aftermath of a tornado. And so every Sunday or Monday I take on the sloth.


I think this might be my worst blog entry ever. Sorry. I'll do two tomorrow. I swear.

Quel scandaleux!

So I am back now from a very creamy croque madame and extremely cheesy music at Bellville Bistro. I wasn't intending to update again, but I was poking about the internet and noticed that my occupation on blogger was still listed as student. When trying to update it, I was SHOCKED to see that there is no option among the industry choices for restaurant work. Not food service or even service more generally. Not even culinary! What the hell? Are people who work in restaurants really so illiterate on the whole that blogger assumes they wouldn't be users? I will be sending an email to the powers that be about this. Until then, my industry is listed as "Maritime." Which is a perfectly reasonable profession for bloggers. What with all those mid-ocean Wi-Fi hot spots.

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y!

The life of a waitress has little room for Saturday night fun. It's almost always Sunday morning when work gets out. And taking Saturdays off is financially risky. When faced with hanging out with friends or making a significant portion of a month's rent in a few hours, practicality almost always wins out. But not tonight. I took a chance and worked Friday instead. So here I am, faced with an expanse of time in which to relax. After four twelve-plus hour days it sure feels good. I stayed in bed till noon, had a nice long shower, made some tea. Josh and I will set out for a leisurely brunch soon. I feel like I'm one of those hardworking moms taking a "me day." It's ridiculous.

Elements of Publicity Style

It has been a little more than a month and half since I began my internship. Three days a week, four to five hours a day, I have been learning the craft of book publishing publicity. Slightly more than half of my work is boring office stuff like photocopying, filing, mass emailing, stuffing envelopes and making contact lists from a neon-colored data based (the screen literally brings tears to my eyes). The other portion is writing "snappy" emails and letters to writers, editors and producers of all ilks. Although this does require a certain level of grammatical skill, several of the tried and true rules of good writing are reversed in publicity writing. Most notably cliche and hyperbole are whole-heartedly embraced. In writing class leading off with a cliche may have aroused the scorn of instructors and peers alike, but in publishing it's a hook which will inevitably lead to high profile interviews and starred reviews in all the trades. Sort of disheartening. Vagueness is also highly valued. In the two paragraph pitch one can't be bothered with details to support claims. Adjectives run rampant. The most common edit to my emails has been the addition of the word "fantastic." And I am learning from this. I have made a concerted effort to describe the writing, story or reviews of each book as "fantastic" in my last several emails. And it's working!

And so it Begins!

Hello my loyal reader(s?)! The day you probably forgot to wait for is here. I am officially blogging every day for the whole month of November (mercifully one with thirty, not thirty-one). I have been racking my brain to come up with features and recurring themes to make this process easier on all of us. So far I have come up with the following:

1)Monday cooking recaps: Because I work at a restaurant and don't spend a lot of time at home, I really only cook dinner on Monday nights (and soon Sundays, Pot Luck Unlimited peeps!). So I am planning to recap each of these endeavors. You can expect recipes, hilarious tales of what I spilled or broke and my top comments from the Epicurious message board that inevitably inspired the meal.

2)Reviews: And not just the normal things! While I do intend to share my opinion of books, movies, restaurants and television programs, I'll also be undertaking reviews of clothing, food stuffs, beauty products.... really anything. I may even review people, so watch out!

3)Formatting Experiments: If I am going to become a for-serious-blogger, I will need to be consistent in matters of style and formatting. I could really use your help on this. Should I capitalize my titles (see above conundrum)? Should I change my layout? What about punctuation? Should I put commas before the "and" in lists of three or more items (I don't like to, but it's an interesting debate!)? Too many adverbs? Too many parentheticals? These are important issues!

And that's only the begining! Well I am excited. See you for more topical blogging tomorrow!