Going to bed at 5am on a school night is not a smart way to start the day.
Feeding yourself bacon and eggs and toast and a big cup of coffee is an honest attempt at normalcy, but next time, you simply need to tell your friend beside you that you need to go home.
Oh, and watch out for that slippery black ice.
Group GChat is fun and exhausting. Using AIM-within-GChat is efficient.
My brother is covering many a song from the '90s, which fits nicely with his sister's new college-era hairstyle.
I would prefer to communicate with everyone via someecards.com.
Josh heads to Dubai on Thursday and, while stealing a joke, I cannot wait to see what he Du-bais me.
"Juno" arrives today.
I asked Paul yesterday if I should wink at a boy whose online profile was LongShlong69 and his response was, "Do it. Do it and never look back." (I didn't do it.)
I am researching restaurants for a date that is not my own.
I am in-between knitting projects.
Aaaaaand...
I have not eaten a proper meal today.
(Pictures from last Tuesday and Saturday here.)
In falling snow, I walked to the supermarket to buy bacon and eggs and prosciutto bread for breakfast. I cheerfully wished a good morning, with no sense of irony, to everyone I passed along the way. While perusing the goods in the bakery aisle, I encouraged myself to remember how happy I was at that moment because things would most likely change later.
Events of the previous night included the RK show at the Knit and the after-party at Mona's with the crew. Cab ride home was spent listening to the born-and-bred New Yorker discuss his knowledge of ska. Watched some cable but surprisingly, no VH1 Classic.
Later on Sunday, the unhappiness never arrived. Instead, movies were watched and fake meatballs were fried and pasta was boiled and tea was drunk and brain-busters were posed.
Awoke at 6 this morning to an irritating alarm. The snow had all melted away. It is, as Scarnsworth would say, the proverbial Monday morning.
Things are odd.
"Have you seen 'Napoleon Dynamite'? I mean, have you ever heard of a movie called 'Napoleon Dynamite'?"
Um, no, art-school-student-with-your-shocking-purple-eye-shadow and your UWS-cronie-who-pocketed-my-matches. (Yes, I saw you.) Never even heard of it!
("Google? I've heard of that!")
Attended the birthday party at Rope tonight and my peanut butter Bundt cake with chocolate chips came off without a hitch. The entire bar sang to Garett on his 28th. Good times. Tom and I discussed how Knitting Club will, from here on out, be more stitch and less bitch. Mindi and I discussed the pinata at Gold Scorpio. Paul liked the cake, even if he doesn't like baked goods. (Really? Who doesn't like baked goods?) Josh took some photos that I'll get around to uploading eventually.
My apartment smells like a bakery.
Time for bed. By "bed" I mean, time to watch some Netflix.
Thank you, Porkchop-Colleen-Josh-Mindi, for getting me to the F train via cab, even if you had to squeeze four in the backseat. Did I mention I hate the G train?
Zzz.
me: tom thinks i'm single because all i do is hang out with dudes.
Josh: that doesn't make sense
me: i think he means that me hanging out with dudes makes me unapproachable in social settings.
Josh: prob
a guy would have real balls to enter that ring of fire
me: seriously.
but it's a good vetting process.
if he can get through hanging out with you fools, he can get through dating me. maybe.
Josh: if you have patience
might take u a while to find a man with those kind of balls in this city
me: yeah, i think you're right.
Thanks to FutureMe, I received an email from my 29 year-old self two days ago. At the time of its writing, I was packing up my belongings in the city, ready to spend a month with my mom, not sure what the year ahead would bring. Dealing with my feelings for J. Possessing all (or most) of the same neuroses that I do today.
Thanksgiving was what it was. A lot of loud, country people yelling at the dinner table, ending with a stuffed belly. Not sure if going back there will ever be a necessity. SM was a lifesaver, even if she didn't realize it.
I flew back Saturday night and headed straight to Scarny's for Sweaters Wide Shut. Good times, pictures here. Appearances were made by KM, Josh, Paul, Garett, Tom, and others. Ended at Brother Jimmy's and Green Kitchen. No more disco fries ever, please.
A portion of yesterday was spent on a couch at the Tea Lounge knitting with Tom. Working on a cable knit hat, but for whom, I do not know.
Josh: where the fuck have you been!?!?!??!
me: hahahahahaha
you miss me already!
fool.
Josh: DUDE
me: DUDE
Josh: where the fuck r u
me: knoxville, yo
Josh: you didnt tell any of us
Seriously, though, I told them I was going to Tennessee.
I mean, I think I did.
Maybe I didn't.
Maybe I really did inadvertently sneak outta town.
Who knows?
Anyhow, it's hot as shit down here.
Had to stay in transit on Friday, rather than sit around the apartment waiting for things to begin. Slipped on new boots, headed to the UES, grabbed Scarny, and off we headed to the outer regions of god-knows-where (actually, Williamsburg) for ever-so-slightly-B&T party with Josh, Porkchop, Colleen. Dipped into salsa club. Finished things off with lattes at Rosemary's.
Woke up feeling amazing! (Lack of a hangover will do that for you, no?)
Met KM & Scarny for lunch at Curly's and then shopped until my credit card burst into flames. Acquired new coats (puffer, wool). I am now ready for winter. (Apparently we have skipped the season of autumn.)
Hopped train to Josh's and sat around for hours waiting for him to make a decision, one way or the other, as to if he would be attending Gold Scorpio party in Bed-Stuy. Yes. No. Yes. No. I finally jumped into a cab (after running into Porkchop and Colleen on the street), headed to Fort Greene, and off we headed to the frat-meets-Pratt party. Talked to college senior about his dreams. Paul arrived. Hugged on M & L. Ended night attempting to play Guitar Hero.
Woke up feeling amazing! (Lack of bad decision-making will do that for you, no?)
Met Scarny for brunch at La Palapa. Waited to hear from Paul as to whether or not football party was on. Yes. No. Yes. No. Finally hopped train to UES, worked on Facebook event invite for Sweaters Wide Shut, headed home, and fell exhausted into my welcoming bed.
In the vein of this, I'm currently enjoying and/or thankful for the following:
Brunch Club
Book Club
Holding hands with strangers
Co-mingling
Free therapy
The color black
The F train arriving as I descend the stairs
The man behind the counter at the gas station
The <3 on Gchat
A hunk of brie in my fridge
Apologies
Being known as a proficient Googler
The scent of winter
txt msgs
Unexpected party guests
Unexpected party invitations
A clear head
Freshly painted toenails
Ira Glass
Trips into the city at 5pm
Wool coats
Stuffed pumpkins
Dance class
Bread baking
Acronyms
Potential Knitting Club
American Apparel short shorts
Puffy omelets
"You've Got to Hide Your Love Away" by the Beatles
Acquiring a nickname
Hoodies without hot dogs in them
Lipstick that never comes off
Discovering our New York Knicks (Marbury drama included)
Removing names from my cell phone directory
Thanksgiving is a week away and for people who are passionate about food (ahem, myself), it's an exciting time. My holiday will be even more special this year, as I'll be able to spend it with my dad (whom I haven't seen since our trip to Kiawah last summer) and with special-guest-from-the-ATL, SM! She and I have been discussing what we'll contribute to the dinner table.
We're currently batting around the idea of making Brussels sprouts, shredded and tossed with caramelized onions and hazelnuts (a KM family recipe -- thank you, KM). We're also thinking an apple pie, perhaps -- and I think I'd like to make an upside-down cranberry pear cake. (I'm a sucker for the thrill of turning out a cake onto a platter and the potential disaster that can occur -- but never has.) Finally, we're in the mood for a dish that incorporates roasted apples, candied walnuts, and some type of squash (butternut, acorn, pumpkin).
Any ideas? And what will you be eating?
Not to get all Live Journal on your ass, but I've been having one of those weeks of self-reflection, have made some changes, some decisions, blah blah blah. In that spirit, I lopped off a foot of hair from the back of my head last night, and nine inches in the front.
I sorta resemble myself circa 2000.
It was simultaneously liberating and scary. I thought about all that time I had spent growing my hair and all that I had done and seen and said and thought in that time -- and then, in an instant, it was just lying there. On the ground. Being swept up.
I'm, like, a season late on this (as with everything) but I'm gonna practice my shit and bring it out to the clubs in the LES and W'burg this weekend.
Scarny, are you with me?
Remember when I was gonna start up that Fly Girl-esque dance troupe back in Athens?
Who knew? I actually won the college football pick'em this week. Not that it means anything monetarily, but I win $26 and it's a nice surprise!
Friday I was planning to cook and relax and spend time by myself but, wouldn't you know it? Before I could say I-need-to-detox, I was on a train to the East Village for drinks with Josh, and then to Crif Dogs, and then to B-Side where we were joined by T.Rich & Co. and Scarny and a room full of toilet paper and ended at a diner eating omelets and disco fries.
The following morning was spent watching episodes of "Undeclared" with Josh and eating leftover disco fries. Gross.
Cooked Saturday afternoon (five dishes: black bean chili dip, smashed white bean dip with truffle oil, berry oat squares, curried cranberry couscous salad, almond-stuffed figs wrapped in vegan bacon). Entertained. (Guests included Porkchop and Colleen and Karen with delicious black bean cakes, KM with a spinach phyllo dish, T.Rich & Co. with olives, hummus, cheese, crackers, Scarny with wine, Tom with spiked cider, Josh with lasagna...) Got shut down by roommate at 11pm. Stressed. Headed to Commonwealth with the crew. Attended after-party. Slept on a pull-out couch with three (!) others.
Woke up to breakfast of bacon and eggs.
Watched the game on Sunday with Josh and ordered Indian food and talked and realized that I NEED TO SLOW DOWN. This ain't college anymore, kids.
After three years and many plays of the Jackson 5's "Can You Feel It", it may be time to invest in another iPod. Mine now holds a mere 50 minutes of charge on the battery. (Just long enough for the daily commute.)
Or should I perhaps just purchase another battery? Install it myself? Though the thought of opening my iPod and tinkering inside causes me some anxiety, if Katha Pollitt can learn to drive late in life, I think I can teach myself to fix this piece of tin.
jbd is the ownership of buffers
jbd is elevated behind my aircraft
jbd is the journaling layer
jbd is not obligated to me in any way with respect to my submission
jbd is carried out by committees
jbd is water cooled to prevent the extreme heat for the exhaust from melting its surface
jbd is up and afterburners lit
jbd is operated remotely and people stay clear of it
jbd is given the appropriate opportunities to manage the journal
jbd is in this upright position
jbd is not playing
jbd is now available in more than just english
jbd is an amazon
jbd is the jet blast deflector
jbd is a rich cheapskate
jbd is the unit
jbd is a good template for this program
jbd is a module
jbd is clear for vertical launch
jbd is on fire
jbd is defined as being
jbd is broken
jbd is the cause
jbd is simply a fat porky son of a bitch greaseball that thinks he's god's gift
jbd is an organic system for which interface between systems is key
jbd is raised or lowered
jbd is in order
jbd is smaller
jbd is not contagious
jbd is greater than
jbd is right along side him
jbd is right
Try it here.
The closing of GYC gets a shout-out in the New York Times (and you can just barely make out Josh, Paul, and Tom in that sub-par picture) -- but no mention of our marathon. I mean, hello? That's real human interest!
I guess Josh really should have butted in when the writer was interviewing the girl next to us.
me: let me tell you the best part of my day so far
Scarny: tell!
me: i went to a GAS STATION for coffee
aaaand
Scarny: how?
me: not only was it amazingly delicious pumpkin spice coffee
BUT
Scarny: is there a gas station?
me: i got 24 ounces of it for...
99 MUTHAFUCKIN CENTS
gas station on ft. hamilton pkwy on my walk to work
my new fave coffee joint, yo
Scarny: WOW
that's tres impressive
how is the coffee?
me: mmmmmm
pumpkin spice! my fave!
Scarny: at a gas station??
wow
me: it was so good, i think i'm going to blog this chat right NOW.
I honestly think I've gained about ten pounds overnight thanks to a marathon GYC outing.
It's time to get my ass in gear, stop drinking myself silly, start subsisting on sugar-free Jell-O and bottled water, and go to the gym more than once a week.
Yesterday was GYC Last Day; our bar will sadly be closed until Spring 2008.
Josh, Paul, Porkchop, Colleen, Tom, TRich, Noreen, and I bundled up and paced ourselves, played Connect Four and Gin Rummy, cut the fingers off of our gloves, rallied 'round the fire, ate roasted marshmallows, swooned over the owner, and watched people come and go.
We also watched Paul make that face at least a thousand times.
More fun times here!
Polls are closed -- and thank you to the 16 people who voted on my future. I guess I'll stay in Brooklyn for another month or so. Or maybe I'll reassess in the '08. I'm flexible.
me: call an undertaker.
friend: omg i am on gchat?!?!
fuck
what the fuck happened omg
me: are you still drunk?
friend: how did last nite get so crazy?
yes
i'm all hungover sorta
maybe drunk
it's making me anxious
me: i am eating a sandwich as big as my face.
friend: i thought it was sunday!
GOOD
where can i get a sandwich as big as my face?
me: at an italian joint.
omg
last night was fucking off-the-hook insanity.
friend: yea
how did that happen?
me: two words:
SANGRIA FOUNTAIN
Halloween pictures are forthcoming, and boy, do I have a lot of 'em around 40 that came out well. It's quite a smart idea to give your camera to your friends while at a party; you can enjoy yourself and they can document you doing so.
Started night off at Josh & KM's place (sans KM, as she was in Bushwick). Josh decided, after seeing my costume and apparently being overwhelmed with inspiration, to also be a gym teacher. Went to GYC (Justin-the-bartender dressed as the GYC bathroom wall, an idea I had given to Josh many weeks back) with the boys for a pitcher. Met Scarny on the corner of Lorimer and Metropolitan. Drank a beer at Alligator and ate half a free pizza. Watched Scarny play Buck Hunter. Went to party. Danced danced danced. Drank from the sangria fountain. Witnessed many a make out. Somehow got to work only 18 minutes late.
Other stuff happened -- but, whatever.
Oh, dude, I need a bagel and two Excedrin.
Top 5 Favorite Costumes of Halloween Past:
5. Nancy Spungen (2000)
I was dating someone who, after shaving his chest, donning tight jeans, and securing a lock and chain around his neck, did bear a striking resemblance to Sid Vicious. I made a pretty good Nancy with lots of eye makeup and pleather skirt. Together we looked great; that is, of course, until he'd walk away to get a beer and without any context, I looked like a two-bit hooker.
4. Alice in Wonderland (sometime mid-1980s)
I loved the Disney animated movie in third grade, and so my Mom slaved away for weeks on her sewing machine, making me the most perfect Alice costume ever. With my long stick-straight (?!) blonde hair, I felt just like her.
3. An extra from "Caligula" (2005)
It was my first Halloween as a resident of New York, but I spent it in Athens, GA. I thought it would be appropriate to be Athena -- or some sort of Greco-Roman goddess. Upon seeing my revealing costume, however, someone (KB?) remarked that I looked more like an extra in the infamous Penthouse flick. And so I was.
2. Pregnant bride (1997)
I had a plastic bouquet of flowers and a garter with a shotgun on it. I went to a party with my then-boyfriend and a stranger remarked (as I stepped outside for a cigarette) in all seriousness that smoking was "bad for the baby". Realistic costuming, I guess.
1. Tippy Hedren from "The Birds" (2003)
I bought an authentic blue vintage suit from Agora and ripped it up, ratted my hair into oblivion, and applied fake scratches, fake birds, and fake feathers to myself. At our annual Yonah H'ween party another girl attended as the same character, but damn if I didn't look better. I'm just sayin'.
Sometime between the end of my love for the New Kids on the Block (yeah, yeah) and the beginning of my appreciation of Nirvana, I was living in San Diego, skipping school on a regular basis, volunteering as a peer counselor, and eating too much ice cream.
I was also a wee bit obsessed with the Beatles, a little-known band that broke up seven years before I was born.
I announced to my family (with a requisite dramatic flourish) that after my death, my ashes were to be scattered in Central Park's Strawberry Fields.
I incessantly listened to "Abbey Road" on vinyl, whose Side Two medley alone secured the entire record as (still) my favorite of all time.
I even wore out my VHS copy of "Help!", a film that I certainly preferred over "Magical Mystery Tour" and "A Hard Day's Night" (though the latter was most critically-acclaimed).
Though John Lennon later publicly complained about the filming, and even said that they "felt like extras" in their own movie, don't they look like they're having a good time?
"Help!" was on the Sundance Channel tonight and I watched it for the first time in over a decade -- but could still recall almost every line.
My Halloween costume is slowly morphing into gym teacher, rather than camp counselor.
I absolutely scoured thrift stores this morning for a camp t-shirt, which I personally feel is necessary (though I know some of you do not), but found an old NYC public school shirt instead.
I think that paired with sweatband, whistle, shorts, tube socks, etc. it just may work. Sort of a hybrid of Robbie Beers' costume circa 1999 and KB's summer camp party of 2007.
Either way, who cares?! I always put too much pressure on myself regarding this holiday and inevitably just end up just tipsy and having a good time, anyhow. I think I need to relax and concentrate more on where the hell I'm going to meet up with the crew before we hit up the Greenpoint party.
So, the Sox won it all last night, and I watched from my perch at Angry Wade's with a light beer in hand, popcorn in my belly, and Josh next to me who just wouldn't let me leave until the bitter end of the game. This, even though I was tired, cranky, and achingly full of Halloween candy. I'll admit it: it's nice to have friends who want you around even when you're being sorta pouty.
We discussed getting a big Victorian home in Ditmas Park with multiple bedrooms and a wrap-around porch and room for a studio and having communal dinners.
Rewind: saw KM and Dave at the bar, too, where they'd been since 4-ish to see the Chargers slaughter the Texans. Prior to that, split a pitcher with Josh at GYC and remarked several times on the cold weather. (Note: Our regular bar of the summer will close on November 3rd and we may have to wear parkas to the party.) I arrived at GYC after spending the night in New Jersey, where I made my Mom a delicious (if I may say so!) birthday brunch of baked french toast with raspberries and walnuts, cheese souffle, and spicy Bloody Marys.
Friday night was spent melding groups of friends (or, rather, introducing TRich to Josh, Paul, Porkchop, and Colleen) and eating beef jerky and playing Rampage (poorly) and drinking hard cider -- that is, until Josh, Paul, and I took a cab to Rope. Home at 5:30 AM.
In other news, what shall Halloween bring? I'm certain one of my smart and clever pals out there is ready to whip out a brilliant costume, yes? I've decided I'll be a camp counselor, if I can finally track down the elusive (and quite necessary) camp t-shirt.
Tell me what you'll be.
I need more coffee. I want to subsist on only coffee for a few days.
Post-interview (ugh, don't ask!), I met TRich at Teany for a delicious vegetarian chef salad, a glass of wine, and fabulous conversation. I then ran home, made a batch of Alice Medrich's Mexican chocolate cookies (whose flavor improved the more the dough chilled -- and I know this because I had a spoonful of it later in the night), met Porkchop and Colleen at Angry Wade's, headed to Camp, watched the game, headed back to Angry Wade's, met up with Josh and Mindy, and finally ended up at home around 2:00 AM.
I need to stop going out on school nights.
Kurt Cobain's suicide was brought to my attention one April day after school while I was watching MTV. I called my boyfriend, Donald, and told him the news.
Donald was actually my ex-boyfriend at that point -- I remember this because Kurt's death saddened us to the point that the only thing we could even think to do was head to Kaldi's coffeehouse in the French Quarter, smoke clove cigarettes, and decide that we should just get back together.
On the way to work this morning, I was listening to an interview with Dave Grohl on NPR's "Fresh Air". Terry Gross played snippets of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and "Heart-Shaped Box" during the piece and it was the first time I had heard those songs in years.
Call it Clinton Nostalgia, but I miss the 90s.
So, yeah, what the hell have I been up to, other than facilitating haiku contests, you ask?
Let me think.
I was in my pajamas, drinking a glass of red wine, and catching up on "Tell Me You Love Me" last Wednesday night when I was rousted out of my apartment and toward the GYC and Abilene to hang with Josh, Porkchop, and Pat.
(Stayed up waaaaay too late.)
I traveled to Albany on Friday and interviewed for a job that I don't believe I got -- and I'm not so sure I'm bummed out over it.
I awoke early on Saturday and painted at a Fort Greene elementary school with Porkchop and Paul. (Please note my talent in the picture above. Ended the day with an after-party at Bowlmor Lanes where we were happily able to hang with Colleen for a bit.
Later that evening, I was in my pajamas, drinking a cup of tea, and catching up on "Real Time with Bill Maher" when I was rousted out of my apartment and toward the GYC to hang with Josh, Tom, and Pat. We later hit up Trout and various establishments in Williamsburg.
(Stayed up waaaaay too late.)
Baked cookies and watched "60 Minutes" on Sunday, naturally.
Monday night was spent with KM, her pops, Dave, and Josh at Joya and Angry Wade's and finished the night off at Brooklyn Social.
(Didn't stay out too late, relatively.)
Tonight is the gym, tomorrow is yet another interview and some QT with TRich, and this weekend I travel down the shore for a birthday celebration for my Mom.
Yawwwwwwn. I'm a party girl.
As the winner of the Overundulating Fever Haiku-for-Cookies Contest, you win the prize of two dozen cookies, baked from scratch by yours truly.
Please consult with your cronies and choose from:
chocolate chip
double chocolate chunk
chocolate toffee
mocha chocolate chip
chocolate peanut butter chip
peanut butter
peanut butter chocolate chip
peanut butter & (any flavor) jelly
oatmeal
oatmeal raisin
oatmeal cranberry
oatmeal chocolate chip
oatmeal peanut butter chocolate chip
oatmeal raisin chocolate chip
oatmeal cranberry chocolate chip
oatmeal butterscotch chip
oatmeal molasses
molasses
molasses white chocolate chip
gingersnap
soft ginger
pumpkin ginger
pumpkin chocolate chip
pumpkin butterscotch
pumpkin white chocolate chip
ranger
snickerdoodle
sugar
m&m
Congratulations on having many fans and friends who voted for you.
Big ups to the other haiku finalists: (1) Scarny, (2) Cocaine Bref, (3) Caddy, and (4) AC.
Good show!
Leaving house at eight
Train to volunteering site
Bring me coffee, chump.
Eggplant sandwich lunch
Tiny waters and bagels
Stolen from the team
After-party time
Bowlmor Lanes and many beers
Sleep time comes early
So, the contest entries have been submitted, and though I at first felt I could judge this solely by myself, and then felt I could narrow it down to a mere three gems, the response has been overwhelming.
I'm going to need to narrow it down to five.
I give you the finalists:
(1)
seventeen dollars
a bloody from the carlyle
where's my reacharound?
(2)
Science may sex me
With all of its mighty brawn
I touch your lazer?
(3)
Big Papi. My heart.
You swing and make the world right.
Save this series please.
(4)
call for a good time.
577-7
775
(5)
This is very dumb
I hate this stupid haiku
I hope this blog dies
(Oh, and though I did love his entry, Porkchop purposefully took himself out of the running by posting in the original comments section. You know I'll make you and Colleen cookies eventually anyhow, buddy.)
Okay, kids, vote in the comments section or shoot me an email, please sidebar. You have until 12:01 AM ET on Tuesday, October 23.
Let the (relatively) best poet win.
Date: Oct 18, 2007 11:14 AM
Subject: what's up jen
Body:
this is pat, an old friend of your brother's. i don't know if you remember me but, hello.
this is going to sound stupid/dorky but i always felt bad for using your expensive soap when we were kids. you probably don't remember, but i am sorry, so i'm sending some to your brother's house for the next time you are over there.
well. much love and keep in touch
-patrick
I have received some excellent haiku submissions, folks, and I'm not sure I can even choose between them. You have until 12:01 Saturday morning to send me your entry and I think I'll go ahead and post my favorite three and let you, the reader(s), choose the big winner.
Did I mention you have until 12:01 Saturday morning to send me your entry?
Did I mention cookies?
In other news, this succinctly sums up my Wednesday:
Having absinthe drinks
Partying late in the night
Oh my head, it hurts
It's the First Official Overundulating Fever Haiku-for-Cookies Contest!
I want you to write me a haiku. It can be about anything your little creative heart desires, but it must be written in the traditional 5-7-5 syllable haiku format. You may submit as many entries as you wish.
The haiku that I deem the bestest will be published on this here blog AND (if that weren't enough!), will receive two dozen cookies (of any variety you choose) in the mail -- baked and shipped by yours truly.
Email your entries and post any general comments here.
You have until 12:01 AM on Saturday, October 20. Go go go!
Yay! It's a contest!
When I hear Bush yak about his S-CHIP veto, it makes my skin crawl.
The new Springsteen tune, "Radio Nowhere" is rad.
After baking many peanut-butter-chocolate-chip cookies for AB and successfully shipping them via USPS, I'm thinking that I have a new weekend hobby. Email me with orders, please.
I'm visiting my Dad in Tennessee for Thanksgiving this year. It will be the closest I get to Georgia for a while, I'm afraid.
I'm in love with Carl Kasell's voice.
Oh, and Satan's Cheerleaders didn't win at trivia last night (big shocker there, kids), but I did learn that a) Twinkies used to be stuffed with banana-flavored filling (not as yummy as lard, I'm afraid), b) I can successfully identify 4 out of 5 porn stars in the visual round (I'm sorry you slipped my mind, Annie Sprinkle), c) the word "ornery" needs to be used more often, and d) Jean-Paul Sartre couldn't give a fig about the Nobel Foundation.
Anyone ever been to the capital of New York, the town known informally as "SmAlbany". (No, really. It is.)
Taking the train up next Friday for a job interview in the field of childhood obesity prevention. If nothing comes of it, I always have the LSAT waiting for me -- and a day off of work to enjoy Upstate.
I may have sabotaged myself at work today, exasperatingly remarking to my supervisor that, despite attempting to take initiative, I haven't done much work in, oh, eight or nine months. I also mentioned that I feel my skills aren't being effectively utilized (or utilized at all, for that matter). What does he suggest? That I sit on some committee. More meetings! All meetings and no action have made me a relative basket-case.
It's not all bad: I have time to IM and email my friends and job hunt and blog (!) and count the minutes before lunch and count the minutes before an afternoon snack and count the minutes before I race to the train to go home.
If only I were one who could eloquently document my boredom and slap a cover on it and call it a novel.
It's an italics-heavy post.
You know those so-called "fat camps" for kids? I want to work at one.
This morning I was asked, "So, you want to work at a fat camp and work at a prison?" Yes, smarty pants, and I want to practice law and work on a political campaign and I want to decorate cakes and I want to finally land that elusive job at the CDC and I want to do it all in Atlanta or San Francisco or Iowa or Seattle or Brooklyn.
It's all I ask.
Alexis Stewart, daughter of Martha, is spending $28,000 of her mother's money each month to get pregnant because, in her words, her 42-year old eggs are now "old and crusty".
The things we learn on Oprah, kids.
Went to the gym for boot camp class on Monday and I'm still sore. My severely out-of-shape body (thanks to a summer of beer and chorizo) will just have to suck it up, however, because I'm going back for more weight training this evening.
And that's all I got today.
As I am gearing up to begin LSAT prep courses and have been retrieving letters of recommendation, I am still working on my personal statement.
I asked Scarny for some assistance in the matter.
Dear school,
It is with great pleasure that I pen this letter to inform you of my intent to matriculate to your much lauded academy. All of my life I have pondered the difference between right and wrong, the thin blue line between lawful and unlawful. Years ago when my mother read to me from the Old Testament and I heard the story of Adam's sons Cain and Abel and their fratricide, I've been beset with a burning desire to defend the weak who are savaged upon by the mighty. Please congratulate me in joining your much heralded institution.
Yours in passion,
JBD
Watched the last half of "Le Charme Discret de la Bourgeoisie" today while nursing a touch of a hangover after raging until 6am. (Note: that is, if "raging" means falling asleep while boys play Wii.) Porkchop was right; it was quite good. I should watch the first half at some point.
Randomly: oatmeal made with chocolate soy milk is decadent and delicious, whiskey shots are never a good idea, balloons make everything much more festive, I want to be a debutante, I want to travel to the South for Thanksgiving, I want to travel to the South and remain there permanently, I want to do all of my holiday shopping before December begins, I change my mind a lot, I change my mind too much, my nails are so long and manicured that I fear they resemble Lee Press-On Nails, watching "60 Minutes" is my favorite way to end a weekend.
Where is Scarny? He was supposed to call me back.
I'm taking a forensic psych class at CUNY this month and we kicked it off last night with a 90 minute lecture on sexual offenders.
I still don't understand how Dateline NBC's "To Catch a Predator" doesn't constitute entrapment, but whatever.
Used car salesman-esque fellow, slicked back salt-and-pepper hair, with tight, black V-neck shirt, slacks, a chunky, brown cable-knit cardigan, a bright and shiny silver chain around his neck, and sporting weights Velcro'd snugly around both his ankles and wrists.
Asleep.
On the Manhattan-bound R train around 6:45 this evening.
Spent almost an hour last night talking to KB and in the course of the conversation, the idea of the adopted home was broached; it is still quite clear that Georgia is mine, even after three years in New York. Perhaps it is because I have just come down from a weekend in which I was able to spend good times with former and current Georgians, but I do miss the state and its people so. I love New York for what it is, but it still just doesn't feel like being at home. I've had fleeting moments when it did, I suppose, but overall, no.
We briefly discussed how I have been able to bounce around from place to place for years: three different towns during my high school career alone, driving off to Texas where I didn't know a soul, hopping over to Atlanta for four odd months, being willing to pursue a job in Iowa.
Am I just perpetually restless?
Alcoholics Anonymous members often talk of the "geographic cure", whereby one blames a place, rather than oneself, for one's woes; if you escape the location, you'll escape the frustration.
This is not lost on me.
I am contemplating lopping my hair off.
I am broke as fuck.
You should check this out if you have not already.
You should check this out if you have not already.
4:31 pm on a Friday, dinner, nap, train to UES, Ship of Fools, six-pack, KB arrives, train to Park Slope, stuck at Smith-9, Union Hall, whiskey shots, KM, Porkchop, Colleen, SA Rawls, Mindy Mook, Thrilla, DANCE PARTY!, cab to Windsor Terrace, sleep at 5am, train to LES, brunch at Freeman's, conversation, train to Windsor Terrace, nap, train to UES, Brother Jimmy's, conversation, PBRs, Bama football, burritos, train to Williamsburg, SA Rawls, Mindy Mook, Thrilla, Bren, Alicia, Iceberg, Alan, Cowboy Dan, Vaughn, Robin, Francis, Baby Dottie, other assorted Athenians and ATLiens, STILL FLYIN'! (best show ever), taking a knee, sweating our asses off, dancing our asses off, procuring two CDs and my new favorite t-shirt (thanks, Mook), Greeenpoint Tavern, beer lattes, cab to UES, sleep at 5am, train to LES, brunch at Cafe Charbon, train to Windsor Terrace.
Zzzzz.
KB arrives today! We will all dance and eat Southern food and watch Southern football and hang at Southern bars and drink beer and vodka sodas and have a good ol' time.
Heading to the UES to meet up with Scarny around 10 PM tonight (after napping, naturellement) and then we'll jet to BK for a (free!) dance party that shall run 'til the break of dawn.
Can't wait to see the ex-Athenians of Still Flyin. Mookers, KB, and I haven't hung out together in a while -- seems like it's been ages since we were roommates and I suppose that's not far from the truth...
Today at lunch, a co-worker divulged to me that she is pregnant. Exciting news. We got to talking about baby names and I found myself deliberately not mentioning my favorites, as these are the names that I have picked out for my children (though offspring in my future is certainly not a definite).
It was as if I didn't want her to steal these names.
Listen, I've been reading baby name books since I was 10 or 11 years old. I mean, I really dug them. Between baby name books, Childcraft, and the encyclopedia, I didn't have much free time to read anything else, save Judy Blume's entire catalog.
Anyhow.
I don't really want to tell anyone my names, in fact, lest they bestow these gems upon their children and drive them up to the top of the popularity list and one day, my kids will have to endure having three or four similarly-named classmates, as I did.
I just really didn't like being Jennifer D. throughout elementary school.
And apparently, I have way too much time on my hands.
Couldn't go bowling (or to GYC) last night because I peeked my bank account balance, much to my horror. Need to save cash for KB's visit. Porkchop & Colleen, rain check!
Instead I got sucked into an episode of "Losing It: Tales from Fat Camp" and was asleep by 10:00 PM. I only squeezed in a mere hour of "The War" viewing time, but I'm sure it will be replayed ad nauseum, so I'm not worried.
Tonight I apply for a replacement Social Security card so that I may finally obtain a drivers licence in the state of New York. My Georgia license expired over six months ago but my Mom, who is stuck on the couch with a broken leg, still lets me drive when I visit: "Shhhh -- don't get into an accident and don't tell your stepfather. Now, go to Wal-Mart and pick me up a box of hair color!"
My interest du jour is a study of the history of the conservative movement, beginning with the writings of Ayn Rand and moving through the Goldwater campaign of 1964 and into the rise of Reaganism.
I just finished "Anthem" on the train to work today and have been giving myself a history booster shot by re-listening to a few of Dr. Jennifer Burns' lectures from UC Berkeley.
Perhaps the impetus for this fascination lay in my viewing of the Alan Greenspan media blitz as of late?
If I can peel myself away from the television, I'll attempt to tackle "Atlas Shrugged" next.
(And yes, I still self-identify as a liberal.)
Note: If you decide to get all cultured with a dear friend and go to a reading of Don DeLillo, don't have two glasses of wine and a deliciously filling sushi dinner beforehand because you will have to fight yourself from dozing off.
And that's a shame.
'Cause Don DeLillo is great.
Life has been the antithesis of blog-worthy as of late. I highly ancticipate some quality hang time with KB, as he arrives in just a few days.
I mean, really: between the LSAT and the CDC deciding to become interested in me again, it seems I've got a lot of good things coming my way (and I'm afraid to say that you're not one of them) but they're all out there, in the future, somewhere.
Last night I had a dream that I survived the sinking of a large ship, only to find myself in a lifeboat with no oars.
Analyze that.
For someone who acknowledges that she tends to like the sound of her own voice and has kept a blog for over two years, I'm sure having a heckuva time writing about myself in this personal statement for law school.
Ugh, enough about that.
Drank beer and watched the Yankees game last night with Josh. Got an invite to the game on Wednesday. ("Suuuuuuure, I'll skip the gym!") While at Yankee Stadium, I'll eat a hot dog, drink a beer, and check off one of those things-to-do on The List.
Tonight brings Thai dinner with my brother, a person with whom I haven't spent any one-on-one time in ages. I miss him. We've contemplated interviewing each other for the StoryCorps project and then presenting the CD to our Mom for her upcoming 55th birthday. Of course, I'm not sure I could get through the process without crying. I'm kind of a baby like that sometimes.
(I know, I know, it's hard to believe.)
The weather in New York is absolutely gorgeous -- exactly how I like it: dry, brisk, sunny. Autumnal.
Um, that's about it.
Well, now it's official-official:
I'm taking the LSAT on December 1, 2007.
Some of you already know this. Many of you don't. Either way, I finally paid the chunk o' change to register for the test and the LSDAS this morning. I signed up for my LSAT prep course a week ago and begin in a month or so. I am studying on my own between now and then.
I'm certainly not treading into this lightly. This is a very serious, labor- and time-intensive undertaking, but one that I've been thinking about for a long time. More so since March.
So, there it is: it's done, I've registered, I'm a bit lighter on cash, and I'm going to do it.
Wish me luck.
(And if you've been through it, which I know some of you have, privately email me with any advice. I'm like a sponge right now.)
I honestly think it's taking less potent alcohol (and less of it, in fact) to induce a hangover in me now. God bless my 30s!
Went out for Josh's homecoming get-together last night. GYC, naturellement. Josh was half-awake, having not slept in a couple of days. KM was beat and had to work in the morning. Me? Well, thanks to a little day we like to refer to as Rosh Hashanah around these parts, I have the day off!
After closing down GYC (which I've rarely done), the bartenders, my pals, and I moved it to Brooklyn Social and kept with the booze consumption. A lot of unsavory talk was had, I recall. Hey, we had about a month to catch up on.
So, Porkchop, what do you think?
Ugh, I need a Diet Coke.
PS: It's my 500th post! Somebody bake me a big cake.
I can eat the same thing for lunch for weeks on end.
I am often lulled to sleep by the sound of Charlie Rose's voice.
My Myers-Briggs Type is ENFP.
I have had DayGlo-painted toenails all summer long.
I was a peer counselor in high school -- at the same time I had a bad habit of skipping class.
I shop at Old Navy but wear Christian Dior perfume.
I haven't seen my Dad in over a year.
I have consumed a six-pack of Cherry Coke Zero in one day.
I jog to NPR podcasts.
I hate horror movies but can watch documentaries on even the most vile serial killers.
I'm not so sure I want to have children.
I like baking more than cooking because I can't seem to improvise.
I am fascinated by JFK assassination conspiracy theories.
I used to have eight holes pierced into one ear.
I wrote a letter to the ACLU when I was ten years old, asking them how I could someday be hired.
Okay, like, not to be a total girl or anything, but I was talking with someone this morning about the debacle that was Britney Spears' performance at the VMAs last night. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Britney makes me sad.
Other individual: She's fat now.
Um, wait.
Fat?
Is this really what constitutes fat now?
Apparently it is.
Sure, her dancing was sloppy, her lip-synching not synchronized in the slightest. She looked nervous, self-conscious, and even a bit hungover.
Sure, she doesn't have the abs she used to have.
But fat?
Oh, and to be completely fair to the aforementioned individual, s/he later amended the statement by remarking, "Well, I mean, she's not as skinny as she used to be."
Yeah. So what?
Did anyone else watch HBO's new Sunday night drama, "Tell Me You Love Me"? (Otherwise known as, "Holy Christ, are those actors actually fucking on screen?")
It was racy, yes, but a touch slow at times. The sexless couple interested me the most and there's great potential in the storyline between the therapist and her husband.
The other couples (one even including Penny of "Lost" fame), though? Eh, not so much. I mean, fertility drama, shmertility drama; I suppose I don't yet understand the anxiety that accompanies the ticking of the biological clock.
Oh, and "we're totally hot and we have amazing sex but we don't, um, really talk" kinda bores me now.
Still, it had its merits and I'll tune in next week, I'm sure.
(I will admit, however, that around the 15 minute mark, I thought to myself that I'm happy to still be single.)
Porkchop's comment has inspired me: instead of jogging to the sound of Terry Gross' voice, I downloaded some songs last night for my morning run.
I'm curious: if you run, walk, stair-climb, elliptical, bicycle, and/or weight-lift, do you have five favorite workout songs that you load onto your iPod (or other similar device)?
Five on my playlist today:
The Go! Team: "Huddle Formation" (yay!)
Kanye West: "Stronger"
Kook & the Gang: "Misled"
The Von Bondies: "C'mon C'mon"
The Knife: "Heartbeats" (for cool-down)
And I'm off!
From: Jen
Date: Sep 8, 2007 10:20 AM
A question: who sings the song that is featured on the series preview of "Clark & Michael"? It's driving me mad.
From: Clark
Date: Sep 8, 2007 3:07 PM
I honestly don't know... sorry!
(Update: I did some detective work and discovered it is the Go! Team. Like, duh. I should have known that. Moreover, Clark should have known that.)
If you're one of the three or four who haven't watched yet:
It makes me wanna live in LA and make a TV show.
I'm feeling slightly less bitter and pouty tonight than I did on Friday. I mean, man, am I a baby or what? It was just a stupid date. The dude is obviously a moron. That's that.
Weekend was decent: saw a couple o' flicks at the local cineplex (wait for Netflix when it comes to Julie Delpy's directorial debut, please), baked a chocolate and strawberry bundt cake for a party at KM's place, contemplated yet another career change, read the memoirs of an NYPD officer, had a big Mexican brunch with Scarny (two Bloodys!), walked around my borough for hours, went to church to quell my spiritual hunger, made pizza dough from scratch and topped it with pears, rosemary, and Gorgonzola cheese for a party at my bro's place, drew wrist tattoos onto strangers at Barcade after doing a shot of whiskey, reconnected with lost pals...
Spent more time alone, however, than I have in a while and it was nice, needed, necessary.
Douchebag chem teacher cancelled date TEN HOURS before said date was to commence.
Fuck him, fuck dating, and fuck ramen noodles.
Did you know that a fella published a book of discarded grocery lists? It's true.
He even created a site whereby you may download and print off the "ultimatest" grocery list for your personal use. You are instructed to leave it in your cart (or here in NYC, I assume he means your basket -- most grocery aisles ain't big enough for no buggies) and s/he who finds it is to mail it to the P.O. box listed.
This got me thinking of my own grocery list that I wrote a mere two hours ago. Read it and weep:
* raspberries or blueberries
* broccoli
* cherry vanilla yogurt
* luna bars
* gala apples
* string cheese
* frozen meals
* all-purpose flour
* soy margarine
* silken tofu
* brown sugar
* cocoa powder
* plain soy milk
What about you?
Tonight is the first night o' college ball in KB's Pick'em and I've got my money on LSU and Oregon State.
Fingers crossed!
In my constant quest for knowledge (and to make everyone declare exasperatingly, "Now, wait just a minute. Last week you wanted to be a pastry chef!"), I've decided to take a course in forensic psychology at CUNY in October.
Knowing me, upon completion of said course, I will be heading to the NYPD recruitment office or some shit.
Hey, listen: it's not that I don't know what I wanna be when I grow up, okay?
It's just that I wanna be too many things.
The restaurant where I celebrated my 30th birthday with KM, KB, SM, Scarny (who was celebrating his 28th), and my bro is officially DUNZO.
What a shame. This means that KB and I will have to do our $100 tasting menu outing somewhere else, I suppose.
I honestly think you're very sweet, lil'-co-worker-who-sits-behind-me, but I really don't care about the fact that you're spending your lunch hour buying skinny jeans and knee-high boots for your 4-year old daughter.
In fact, it sort of scares me.
What is on your list?
On mine...
* Take a tap-dancing class on Broadway
* Eat a hot dog at a New York MLB game
* Bake sourdough bread from scratch
* Eat street food in Thailand
* Sunbathe in St. Tropez
* Bake my grandfather's lemon meringue pie
* Sell a photograph
* Finish "Infinite Jest"
* Kayak the ocean waters around Kauai
* Eat lobster in Maine
* Publish an article
* Knit a sweater
* Drink cafe au lait in Paris
...among others.
Je me demande si ces applications de traduction fonctionnent vraiment ou si je parle dans quelles quantités au Français cassé?
The Fortune Cookie Application on my Facebook page told me today that my "relationship status will soon change".
That's laughable.
(Do I, however, still need to follow that fortune with "...in bed"?)
Why am I even on Facebook? Can't remember who invited me. The constant upkeep of multiple social networking sites is exhausting. I've even been suckered into Twittering now and we'll see how long that lasts.
Moving on.
Yo yo yo, more "Wire" talk: I can't even belieeeeeeeeeeeve that Stringer Bell (who is hot as a whore in church) had the audacity to...
Um.
(Those of you who have seen Season Two know what I'm talkin' about. Damn, son.)
More work completed on beret. Check.
More resumes sent out. Check check.
More chit chat with the chem teacher. Checkmate.
Tra la la. Aujourd'hui était une bonne journée.
En toute langue.
My dad has always echoed Aaliyah in his assertion that "age ain't nothin' but a number" (and it helps that his wife is 20 years his junior), so it doesn't surprise me to see him out on the race track this past weekend.
Not too bad for an old(er) gentleman!
Contemplated trivia tonight but in light of the chilly weather, decided to hibernate instead. (Plus, Porkchop, Colleen argues that trivia is more of a fall activity and I'll just agree with her. Let's reconvene in autumn.)
I'm not regretting this decision (though some face-time with friends would be nice):
a) I'm halfway through three episodes of the second season of "The Wire" (I love this show I love this show I love this show and I want to hug Omar and light his cigarettes).
b) I'm working on a knitted beret to celebrate the brisk air.
c) I've now got two job interviews confirmed for the next week and a half (I'm jinxing myself, I know it).
d) I was recently asked out by a cute high school chemistry teacher (oh, Lord, am I jinxing myself).
Things is, y'know, a'ight tonight.
Oh, and right now, it just doesn't get any better for me than this.
I mean, seriously.
Summer's basically kaput.
Autumn's arriving shortly.
More importantly, however: Christmas is coming up in, oh, a little over four months, and thus I am giving everyone ample time to purchase les cadeaux pour moi.
I bought this back in January. I want more like it. Lots more. I want half ones and full ones. I want frilly ones. I want gingham-printed ones. I want to wear a different one every night as I whip up (veggie?) meatloaf in my kitchen while wearing 3" heels.
I want to decorate cakes in it. I want to bake brioche in it. I want to make overnight French toast with caramel walnut topping in it.
I also want many kitschy sets of these.
Merci, mes amis!
Taco field outing -- finally!
Went with KM, Jendy, and Pau and ate a chorizo huarache as big as my face. (No, I did not finish it all.) Washed it down with a fresh watermelon lemonade. 
More pics here.
And for info on the DOH/Red Hook taco drama, go here.
What a serious shame it would be to shut down these vendors, some of whom have been selling papusas, huaraches, and tacos for thirty years at this corner.
It's some of the best street food in the city -- and this city is known to be home to some of the best street food in the world.
Walk 2.5 miles home, drink wine, eat dinner, knit, text friends, paint nails, surf Internet, smoke cigarette, watch "Larry King Live", remember that you used to be interested in politics, remember that you used to frequent the gym, remember that you used to knit more often, remember that you used to not be addicted to the Internet, commit self to very little IMing for a while, commit self to very little MySpacing for a while, commit self to sending out myriad resumes on daily basis, watch "The Four Seasons", crush on Alan Alda, read hippie classic "Das Energi", journal, blog, think of something hilarious, laugh.
"When life hands you a lemon, put a slice of it in a PBR (as I learned from [KM] at the Annex), and just roll with it. It could be a lot worse." -- T.Rich
I have wise and wonderful friends.
Had great time having dinner and drinks at Joya with T.Rich last night, but y'know, that's a given. She completely normalizes me and I'm lucky to have her around.
She and I actually discussed me returning to my old company. Not to the job that I left, now, but rather to something different. It's a definite possibility. It would be nice to be able to hit up H&M on my lunch break again and there are old co-workers I miss seeing around.
I don't know.
Have you ever felt like something in life had to change and it didn't really matter what?
Had a really good time with AC last night -- and as I know that he reads this site semi-regularly, I'll refrain from qualifying that with "surprisingly", though I'm sure he'd know what I meant.
We had three drinks at three separate establishments and ended the night splitting a Punjabi samosa with chickpeas, eaten while standing.
(I mean, it ain't no red wine prunes with marscapone, but not every evening can be so um, over the top. Thank God.)
In frowny and/or brow-furrowing news:
School is still up in the air. There are many, many pros and cons. My brother suggested to me yesterday I simply stay a student forever: a law degree, become a Registered Dietitian, take pastry classes... I'm pretty sure the money would run out quickly, however. (By "money" I mean "loans".)
I played hooky from work yesterday because I couldn't bear doing nothing for the 1000th day in a row. Oh, and when I say "nothing", I mean "nothing": even the frequency of my Gchatting has dropped off. Can't say I didn't see it coming.
Thought about going to see my Mom this weekend, but just received a text from KM: "Might be the last weekend for Red Hook tacos!"
Guess I'll stay in town.
Must get out of funk.
AC, maybe you should move back. We can eat Punjabi once a week together.
I'll be honest with you: I don't really want to finish "My Left Foot" and so I won't. I'll fall asleep tonight to a Google Video episode of "Charlie Rose".
Met Pau -- the Barcelonian version of Josh -- and he takes pictures of food, too! (Which reminds me, I should start taking pictures of food again. I should also reacquaint myself with the gym. I should also find a new job.)
KM and I split a dinner tonight of PBR and peanuts.
Tomorrow brings a drink with AC.
Think I want to be a baker and not a chef. A pastry chef, maybe, but not a run-of-the-mill-I-work-on-the-hot-line-at-a-New-York-restaurant-chef.
Think if I go away every weekend for the rest of the year, I'll be okay.
Friday: Loads of laundry, wine, texts, train to the 'burg, more wine, cigarettes, conversation, the Country Club, whiskey, Barcade, spinning, car home, kidnapping fears, lost way, stir fry, sleep.
Saturday: Freeman's, bacon, Bloody, Scarny, Beer Club, full bar, plans to nap, no napping, train to Clinton Hill, beers, chorizo, cigarettes, Garett, Paul, others, conversation, the Cherokee tribe, laughing, ice water, frowning, piggyback ride, walk, sleep.
Sunday: Walk, train to Park Slope, Clemen's, Key Foods, loads of laundry, Hot 97, phone calls, "The Wire", "My Left Foot"...
Occupation:
Teacher/night school teacher.
Relationship status:
Single.
Location:
Athens, GA.
What did you eat yesterday?
Breakfast:
1/2 peach/kiwi smoothie, one piece of Wasa, coffee.
Lunch...
Soy cheddar and tomato sandwich with olives and banana peppers on Luna whole wheat bread, one lime Primal Strip and a banana.
Snack...
Low sodium can of V8 and a hickory smoked Primal Strip.
Dinner...
House salad with tofu from The Grit with a side of honey mustard dressing and a PBR; a glass of Merlot later and a small piece of Dove chocolate.
What do you never eat?
Meatloaf, hamburgers, beets.
In my refrigerator, you can always find:
Soy milk, whole wheat bread, jars of pickles, oatmeal, dark chocolate, yellow BBQ sauce, cheese and soy cheese as well as a random assortment of fresh vegetables.
In my freezer, you can always find:
Veggie burgers, coffee, frozen vegetables.
What is your favorite kitchen item?
My cast iron skillet.
Where do you eat out most frequently?
Athens' various assortment of Mexican and other Latin restaurants.
World ends tomorrow. What would you like for your last meal?
Soto's non-existent 17 course prix fixe dinner.
Some of you will recall that I filled this out over a year ago.
Please feel free to email me your own updated answers.
(I've realized that since leaving my job as a nutrition educator, my eating habits have become horrid.)
Occupation:
Population Health Management Coordinator.
Relationship status:
Single.
Location:
Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn.
What did you eat yesterday?
Breakfast...
Extra large coffee from Dunkin Donuts with skim milk and three Splendas.
Snack...
Nothin'
Lunch...
Go-Lean bar in Cookies 'n Cream flavor.
Snack...
Handful of cereal.
Dinner...
Whole wheat pasta, black beans, tofu, broccoli. Water.
What do you never eat?
Buffalo wings.
In my refrigerator, you can always find:
Sriracha sauce, Frank's Red Hot, dijon mustard, Brita water, tofu, salsa, shredded cheddar cheese.
In my freezer, you can always find:
Frozen vegetables, coffee.
What is your favorite kitchen item?
It's a definite toss-up between my tangerine KitchenAid stand mixer and my kiwi Le Creuset dutch oven.
Where do you eat out most frequently?
Trout in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn.
World ends tomorrow. What would you like for your last meal?
Street food from Thailand, a slice of Giordano's pizza from Chicago (yes, it's a chain, and yes, I live in New York, but so what?), a spicy brat on a bun with kraut and mustard, and red wine prunes with mascarpone from Frankies 457 for dessert. And a big bottle of wine.
Can this quote truly be attributed to James Brown?
I mean, was he really the first person to say this?
Are vegetarians truly in the most basic category of finicky? (Doubtful.) Is being a carnivore more attractive? (Doubtful.) It's true that I've added a bit of meat to my diet as of this summer, and this spoke to me.
("Everyone wants to be the girl who drinks the beer and eats the steak and looks like Kate Hudson.")
Watched two episodes of "The Wire" last night and if you haven't jumped on that bandwagon, kid, you gotta do it. I'm almost done with Season One, as I haven't been chained to the Netflix recently -- unlike back in late May and early June (post-"Lost" finale), when my queue was a topic of daily conversation.
Also have "My Left Foot" per a recommendation but wasn't in the mood to watch it last night. Instead, spent some time chatting with Paul about modern cinema and attempting to stay cool in my blazing apartment.
The immense expense of culinary school is starting to truly weigh heavy on my heart. Food is my passion and but incurring the debt suffocates me. Advice is welcomed.
Saw a woman on the train this morning, dead asleep, mouth agape. Funny and vulnerable. Sad.
I wonder if I look that way when I sleep.
Morning commuting chaos (and a possible tornado).
Said goodbye to AB last night after Mexican food on Court Street. Was so good to spend time with her; cannot wait for the next trip. We weren't able to meet up with Paul, despite his being in the neighborhood and calling us. Was he willing to buy us all drinks? Oh, sorry, I'm back in Staten Island. Boo.
Working on organizing this cookout but, predictably, most people have plans already. Shall be at Rope in Clinton Hill. Time unknown. Could end up just a cookout for four or five -- which in that case, is it worth it?
If bacon-wrapped burgers are available, then yes.
Last night I met up with AB, KM, and Dave at Abilene and had nice candlelit conversation over a few beers. (It's beginning to feel like AB lives here, and oh, do I wish that were true -- J.Ro, think about it!) Was home by midnight, which was a refreshing change of pace. Feel good today. Feel broke today, but good nonetheless.
Still haven't completely unpacked from the cruise and haven't done laundry in I-don't-know-how-long. Running out of things to wear, as is evident in my choice in clothing today. Feel like I need a few days to get my shit together.
LL and I are possibly in the prelim stages of getting a group together for a cookout or something of that sorts this weekend. You in, son? I'll bring something yummy for you to eat. Spread the word. Prospect Park? Rope in Clinton Hill? Let's drink beer and eat meat (analogues) and enjoy the summer.
Because, you know, the summer is winding down...
(That was for KB and P'chop, of course.)
The question of the day:
If you could rewind to any point in your life, what would you want to relive?
Many High Lifes saw Josh off to Pennsylvania (and then on to Spain) on Friday night. Started things at KM & Josh's place with some beers, Scarny came out, Dave drove us all to Trout. AB got to meet a bunch o' folks: Porkchop, Garett, Colleen...
Got a big table under a tin roof -- which was quite helpful when the sky opened up. Smoked too many cigarettes. Ate too much chorizo. Was in charge of the close-to-$300 bill with no drama.
Ended up at the Carroll Gardens Diner (which I had no idea even existed beforehand) near 4:00 AM eating grilled cheese-and-tomato sandwiches and discussing parallel universes.
Woke up and gathered KM, AB, and Scarny for brunch at Great Jones Cafe. Two spicy Bloodys and jalapeno cornbread! Itty bitty jean shorts! Yesssss! Walked around to work off the meal. Oh, it's hot as hell. Let's get on water? Um, yes: Staten Island Ferry!
(On our return trip, the captain hit the dock and we had to disembark. It was nothing like this, though.)
The night brought pizza and girl talk. Slept deeper than I have in weeks.
The summer is winding down...
(In other news, waiting to hear about money for school. If anyone would like to bankroll my dream, please email me. I need funds. I will cook for you.)
Last night brought a beer at the Beauty Bar (where I hadn't been in almost a year, I believe), a Cubano Nuevo at Curly's (mmmm, how I've missed you!), a couple of pitchers at GYC, and AB finally meeting Josh.
Now, tell me: do you think that all the truly great acting performances have been given by men? Also, do you think that easy access to Internet pornography encourages men to be turned off to sex with actual living, breathing women?
Just some conversations I had yesterday while at work...
(On Gchat, silly; I only speak to my co-workers about work.)
Met AB at Crossroads last night and she was looking gorgeous, as always. Dragged her luggage down Prospect to my hot and humid apartment. No A/C in the joint. Sorry. Jumped on a train and introduced her to Trout, where we split a pitcher of Sierra Nevada and were shortly joined by KM. Noreen was nice enough to comp us on some PBRs.
After the pre-dinner drinks came dinner, naturally. Joya was packed (odd for a Wednesday, no?) and so Em it had to be. Perfect portion size of spicy basil mock duck. (See, though I'm technically a meat-eater now doesn't mean I always have to eat meat!) Spicy spicy spicy. Guzzled plenty of water. Water doesn't help with the heat. What does? Milk? Yuck.
Said goodbyes to KM and off AB and I went to Manhattan City. Hit up the Mercury Lounge for my brother's show, where AB was introduced to many friends (Monique, Vedette, Devang, Mike, Bob). I'm always proud of my bro; he mentioned it not being his best effort (a bit sloppy, sound problems, blah blah blah) but I still had a good time. Didn't love the 1990s. Pretty standard. Interesting what garners an 8-point-something on Pitchfork these days.
Oh, we're so tired. Let's go home.
Ran into Carol on the way to the train. NYC is so small sometimes. It's nice running into somebody that you actually like.
Hit the sack. Woke up. At work. Thinking of hot dogs and baseball.
AB's out there navigating the city with Scarny and I wish them cool, dry weather.
Paul: Your feelings are stupid, woman.
Me: you are stupid.
jerk.
Paul: Women can't drive.
Me: men can't have babies.
Paul: Thats a good thing because it makes you weaker
Me: men are emotional infants.
Paul: Women are just over-emotional.
Me: men are cold and selfish.
Paul: Women are bitchy and bleed out of their vaginas, which attracts
wild animals.
Me: men start wars.
because they are insecure about the size of their penises.
Paul: and finish em too
Women are envious about our penises
Me: women could give two shits about a penis, honestly.
we don't need 'em.
we just keep men around so that we don't have to fix our sinks and
kill roaches and shit.
Paul: More things men can do over women, you're not helping your case
Me: i didn't say we couldn't do them; we're smarter than you because
we manipulate you into doing them for us
ah ha!
I WIN.
stop looking at my blog.
Paul: You're dumber than us because you say things like "I WIN!" and
expect that it makes it so.
And I will look at any blog I please.
I had no idea Mark Ibold has been a bartender at Great Jones Cafe for the last seven years. I wanna be served by him.
(They have wicked good spicy Bloodys and serve their jalapeno cornbread with honey. Scarny and I went there once for Brunch Club...)
I'm going to try the one-meal-a-day-plus-cigarettes-and-coffee-and-Diet-Coke diet for a while because after the cruise I feel like Jabba the Hut. (Yes, I do recognize that this is terribly unhealthy, but I've got a degree in Health Behavior and am a professional so shut up.)
Speaking of food, I've got a coffee "date" (serious air quotes there) with the ol' personal chef.
Some of you will recall that for my 30th birthday, my brother had his acquaintance, a personal chef named Rob, come to my kitchen and teach me a few things (knife skills, how to make a roux, etc.). Now that I've sent off my app to FCI, my brother encouraged me to get back in touch.
(Yeah, okay, Jase, whatever -- I see through this completely.)
So, sure, I emailed him for some advice and Rob suggested a coffee outing. AB will be here for a week, so late next week it will have to be.
(Rob flies to St. Bart's once a week to cook for some secret celeb client. Very swanky.)
In other news: I can't sleep at all.
