Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
“I’d like a long bob, please. Like, barely brushing my collarbones, with some piecey layers thrown in for texture. Here are two pictures to use as a guide:”
WHAT SHE HEARD
“Please, oh please, make me look like a 1950’s housewife named Shirley Sue who is greeting her two sons, Harry and Fred, with a fresh-baked plate of Snickerdoodles as they come home from school.”
WHAT I SAID
“I’d like my overall look to be very sleek and polished.”
WHAT SHE HEARD
“My hair to date hasn’t really given me ample opportunity to try out styles that make me look like: (a) I'm 12, (b) I'm posing for an American Apparel ad, and (c) I'm putting to good use my porn name, Fluffy van Carlton. What can you do for me that will enable me to incorporate all of those things simultaneously?"
WHAT I DIDN’T SAY, BUT ASSUMED WAS UNDERSTOOD
“I enjoy having my hair evenly cut on both sides. It's just one of my little quirks.”
WHAT SHE ASSUMED
“Even shmeven, beeyotch!”
Just to drive home my point...
See how I can make jokes? I'll be fine. FIIIIINE. The truth is, I don't think she cut it short enough, so at least there's room for someone competent to repair the damage. Whoorl has reassured me that this is fixable, and I'm scheduling an appointment with my regular hairdresser post-haste. (WHAT WAS I THINKING GOING TO SOMEONE NEW? AND WHO DIDN'T REALLY HAVE A FULL GRASP OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, AT THAT?) In the meantime, I will be wearing a Blair Waldorf-style beret to disguise the above disaster, and praying that my hairstylist makes house calls.
Wish me luck.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
I’m sad we were there for such a short period of time, and I want to go back immediately. For those of you who’ve never been, I decided to compile this helpful list of Do’s and Don’ts, should you ever visit: (Watch out, Fodor’s!)
DO embrace your inner tourist.
DON’T watch Zodiac on your laptop during your flight there. Despite the fact that it’s a well-regarded film, Jake Gyllenhaal is in it and it’s twelve hours long so you never have time to watch it at home, tell me this--In what way is it a good idea to watch a movie about: (a) a serial killer…(b) who prowled the San Francisco area…(c) AND HAS NEVER BEEN FOUND? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Watch Michael Clayton instead. Also very good, and the scariest person in it is Tilda Swinton.
DO perform your Sean Connery “Welcome to The Rock!” impression for your husband each and every time
DON’T jaywalk. Here's the thing: In NY, we don’t even call crossing the street against the light “jaywalking.” Here, it’s just “walking”. Essentially, we do a quick check to ensure that there are no buses approaching and that homicidal taxi drivers are at least a block away, and we just cross the street. I swear I can’t remember the last time I looked at the little red and white blinking helper dudes lights. (In fact, are they still red and white? Are they still even dudes? I DO NOT KNOW!) Anyway, I had started to make my way across a street in
DO eat your weight in cupcakes here.
DON’T walk into even the most innocuous-looking store in
And the most important one of all…
* * * * *
Because I am a very fortunate girl, J and I managed to make it back home prior to the snowstorm from hell, I got a beautiful new bag...
...and I got to spend yesterday afternoon with the darling Ali, who was visiting from Canada. We had so much fun together, and I was genuinely sad when she had to leave. COME BACK SOON, ALI!
So…who’s coming to NY next? Between my time in
Monday, February 18, 2008
At the very least, the existence of the following book--which I spotted on my bookstore adventure-- pretty much makes me feel okay about anything I will choose to read, EVER: In any event, I promised you a caramel cake recipe as a token of my appreciation for your awesomeness, and I'll get to that in just a moment. In a stunning coincidence, however, over the past few days, I've been inundated with emails regarding a recipe swap. I was on top of my game at first, but then, between the packing, book buying, and life in general, I fell behind...about which I feel terrible. So for anyone who sent me the recipe swap email to whom I haven't yet responded, here is my contribution to the cause. I truly feel that the sheer awesomeness of this cake--which is basically the healthiest thing you can bake-- should make up for my tardy response:
(While it's technically a cake, it's so rich that I make it in a regular bake pan and just cut it into small squares.)
1 pound light brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1 cup butter, melted
1 tsp. vanilla
4 eggs, lightly beaten
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1 pinch salt
1/2 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup heavy cream
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
pinch of salt
Preheat oven to 350. Grease a 9x13-inch baking pan (that's my version...you can, if so inclined, use a real cake pan.)
In a large bowl, cream together butter, brown sugar, white sugar, eggs and vanilla. In a separate bowl, mix flour, baking powder, and salt. Stir into the "wet" mixture until well-blended. Spread mixture into prepared pan. Bake 45 minutes, or until toothpick inserted into center comes out clean.
While it's baking, make the frosting. (The cake is fine without it, but if you're going all-out, the frosting is incredible; it totally makes the cake.) Place all four frosting ingredients in a saucepan and bring to a simmer. Stir frequently while it simmers for 5-7 minutes (until thickened). Spread over top of baked cake, cut into small squares when cooled.
I wish I had some pictures of me making this beauty, or perhaps a few shots of the cake itself, but you see, I woke up yesterday with a craving for CINNAMON. I decided I had to make Casey's cinnamon buns, which I've been drooling over for weeks now. (That sounded much dirtier than I'd intended.) They were incredible, and worth every second I spent slaving over them. See? What best encapsulates the experience, however, is the following picture, sneakily taken by J. (I found it after uploading the rest of my weekend pictures this morning, and very nearly spat orange juice on my computer, such was my laughter.) We’d recently caught a show that discussed the late 70’s cinematic travesty, The Wiz. Which I’ve seen like seventeen times. NO, I DON’T KNOW WHY.
Anyway, after working on my cinnamon buns for what seemed like eons, I began to get a little antsy and walked over to J, who was searching for something to watch on TV. As he was flipping through the channels, he happened to stumble upon…The Wiz. Ordinarily, I’d probably just remark upon the coincidence, but I think I’d “tested” a bit too much cream cheese frosting by that point, and spontaneously broke into a full song and dance routine, accompanying Miss Diana Ross and Michael Jackson…on my handheld mixer. I’m so sexy, it huuuurts.
Because I can't let that image sear your poor eyes, I'll leave you with this shot of my little family, taken this morning: Much better than my sugar-fueled lip syching, yes?
With that, I'm off to San Francisco bright and early tomorrow, armed with your trip ideas and suggested books. Oh, and yes, I’ll be wearing comfortable yoga pants. (I will don my recently-purchased --and perhaps ill-advised-- skinny maternity jeans once I’m there.)
Friday, February 15, 2008
Thing the second: I’ve been in the market for a new hairstyle, and Whoorl has accommodated my request in spades. I’m torn between my many options, but right now, the “Hillary Clinton” is luring me in with its beautiful siren song. Thanks, Whoorl!
Thing the third: Let’s say you’re pregnant, and embarking upon a cross country flight in a few short days. Your usual go-to travel pants are a bit snug at this point. WHAT DO YOU WEAR? Do you wear yoga pants and risk looking like you’re on your way to the gym, or do you suck it up and wear a pair of your ludicrously pricey maternity jeans, which while ass-flatteringly fantastic, probably won’t be comfortable after sitting in them for SIX HOURS?
Thing the fourth: And this probably deserves more backstory than I’m giving it here, but…what’s the appropriate amount of time to wait--with nothing on, mind you, but for a thin paper sheet--until your hottie obstetrician returns to the room for your checkup? I mean, how long, really, would you give it until you hopped off the table wrapped in your paper toga, and sauntered into the hall to inquire about his whereabouts? Five minutes? Ten? I MUST KNOW WHAT YOU WOULD'VE DONE.
Thing the fifth: Speaking of my trip, I need something to read! As we all know, I don’t do so well when I’m flying, and it’s not like I can let my old friend vodka distract me this time. What’s the best book you’ve read recently? Something I can really get lost in, and forget that I’m in a large metal tube hurtling at breakneck speeds miles above the earth’s surface? On a similar note, any must-download music suggestions?
Monday, February 11, 2008
As I mentioned a few weeks ago, J and I are going to
Although...I am going to miss this little guy terribly:
But! We'll only be gone a few days, and he'll be
spoiled beyond all reason taken care of by his grandparents while we're gone, so it should all be okay. I mean, just because the last time we left, he developed a double ear infection and a fever of 105.8, that doesn't mean it'll happen again, right? RIGHT??
Oh, great. Now I'm breaking out in sexy, sexy hives just thinking about it. Fabulous. Time to refocus! Back to the topic at hand:
I have this tendency to romanticize places I’ve never been before. Well, not so much “romanticize” as “envision as a conglomeration of every pop culture reference ever associated with that place.”
- Robin Williams in drag.
- Rice-a-Roni. Lots of it.
- Hippies, possibly nude, definitely wearing flowers, singing “Age of Aquarius” whilst frolicking in
- “Wake Up,
” starring Danny Tanner and Rebecca Katsopolis greeting me on TV each morning. (Perhaps Jessie and the Rippers will make a special guest appearance to sing "Michelle's Smiling"? I JUST DON'T KNOW!) San Francisco
- My new secret crush, Eli Stone.
- Ann Hathaway evolving from ugly duckling to swan before my very eyes. (I’m not the only one who saw The Princess Diaries! I KNOW I’M NOT!)
- Holly and Moose. (…okay, that might actually be happening. Wheeee!)
I guess what I’m trying to ask is twofold:
A) Am I the only one who does this? (And yes, I know that I’m doing nothing to quash existing stereotypes of
B) Assuming my insane fantasy of
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
We’ve thrown Super Bowl parties in the past, but this year, J flat-out refused on the grounds that he’d be too nervous about the game to be a gracious host. I have to say, I sort of understood it. We were invited to a few parties, but ultimately decided to go to my parents’ soirée. We did this for a number of reasons, chief among them the free babysitting (thanks, Mom!) and preferred seating in my parents’ newly revamped TV room, complete with Jumbotron-sized flat screen, and surround sound. Oh, and did I forget to mention the cake? My God, this one dwarfed the last Giants cake they had.
Now, I understand that a lot of you out there just…aren’t so into football. You think it’s boring, or there are too many rules...Well, years ago, I used to be like you. But times have changed, and I’ve been a fan for a long time now. While I can’t convince you to love the game like I do, I’m going to share with you some little things that will hopefully answer the question a lot of my friends ask me, namely, “Why the hell do you like watching football so damn much?”
Reason 1: End Zone Celebrations!
Now granted, there isn’t too much of this in the bigger games, for fear of penalties and fines, but DUDE. How can you not love a sport wherein the players occasionally bust a move? I mean, where else are you going to see this?
(And don’t tell me “a baseball game” because no one dances there, DESPITE WHAT HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL 2 MAY HAVE TOLD YOU.)
Reason 2: Playing George-O! (Patent pending)
I adore my dad. He is a lovely person; brilliant, funny, and kind. All of this, however, goes out the window when we watch football; then, he is the single most annoying person with whom to watch a game IN THE UNIVERSE. He mutters at the referees, yells at the players (who, y’know, can’t hear him) and generally makes me want to POKE HIM WITH A POINTY STICK. (I’m sorry, Dad! I love you, but it’s all true!) Necessity being the mother of invention, my brother and I came up with a way to channel our annoyance into something positive: The game of GEORGE-O (which is in no way modeled after Bingo and I have no idea what you're talking about)! I tell you, it was not easy sneakily distributing the cards to J, my other brother, and assorted other friends and family members, but these babies definitely made the experience of watching the game with Shouty McYellsAtRefs more pleasant:
Reason 3: Heather B!
A highlight of this past football season, for me, has been a little segment I like to call “Texting with Heather B.” Heather is an equally ardent Giants fan, and she and I tend to spend a large amount of our time during games running up our respective text messaging bills. We’re there for each other, whether the situation calls for inventive cursing, celebration, or me telling SOMEONE that Burress was due for a big play. (I was right, HB!) She doesn’t know it yet, but I plan to show up on her doorstep this summer to
stalk Eli and Plax attend Giants training camp with her. I hope she likes toddlers. And infants.
Reason 4: The High Fashion!
Really, have I ever looked foxier than I did here? Defiantly wearing a jersey that cannot, nay, WILL NOT fit over my growing belleh? I think not!
Reason 5: Uh…my team won!
I think our faces say it all, don’t you?
Oh, and then there was this little parade today…
And there you have it. Congratulations once again to the Super Bowl XLII Champions, THE