this past week i bought radishes with a shelf-life of 24 hours and a bike that has already grown tiresome. also, chuck fashioned a sleep-cave for us by putting tin foil over the windows to shield our resting eyes from the horrors of a 7 a.m. sunrise. god love a man who's deep respect for sleep matches my own. i was sure if i ever found one, he'd have to be in a coma.
honest tea: morraccan mint: never in my years of drinking have i tasted something so cold. minty, with honey. if this were liquor, i'd be using the back of betty ford pamphlets for scribbling drunken poetry about this stuff.
FOODS I MAKE
oregano and asiago focaccia [via]: the ingredients alone made my grocery bag smell a stoner's toothbrush. frankly, i can't believe it turned out. but more importantly, i can't believe we didn't wrap it up when we were done eating and about six inches of it turned to pumice stone.
lemon-rosemary butter cookies [via]: oh my. the first bite i was like ... whoa, there's the rosemary. after my taste buds acclimated to herbs, it was good stuff.
fresh pea soup with tarragon [via] peas and tarragon, who knew? best neon-colored food i've tried. i garnished with radishes, just like the magazine said.
MEALS TAKEN IN PUBLIC
chester creek cafe: i had the salmon platter, which was a slab of smoked salmon, an onion relish featuring a curiously pink onion and caper mix; pickles; boursin cheese; greens and crostini. the perfect meal for someone who likes to mix and match ... it was like units -- that modular clothing line from the 1980s where your tube top could be a skirt or headband or belt.
i also had a strawberry cream italian soda. it was ridiculous with whip cream.
chuck had three tiny crab rolls with this spicy tamarind ketchup that tasted really good on my salmon. he always gets the best sauces. proportion-wise, though? probably like calling the cheeto silt under your fingernails dinner.
NONMOVIE PROJECT MOVIES
"christine" (1983): boy meets car. boy falls in love with car. car gets jealous of boy's girlfriend and kills the boys who bully the boy. this movie, like most released in the early 80s and about the late 70s is funnier than it ever could have intended to be.
"i was told there'd be cake" by sloane crosley: this book isn't bad, but it isn't good either. it just is. most of the essays are about as quirky as your mom after two glasses of wine at a distant cousin's wedding dance, putting her hand over her mouth and gasping about the 'sh-' word. sloane crosley is scared she will suffer an untimely death and whoever cleans out her apartment will find her stash of toy ponies. ... this is not really the stuff of shocking hilarity.
it's almost quaint in its lack of risk-taking. crosley comes across as a sweet, self-depreciating, smart and witty -- but a far cry from david sedaris or sarah vowell, two writers her style was linked to in blurbs. [i should know better than to be fooled by blurbs. i know how they happen ... yet meghan daum's seal of approval did prompt me to buy this as her book of essays 'my misspent youth' remains one of my favorite book.] 'i was told there'd be cake' it is heavy handed in the PR department: this is a woman who is not going to make enemies with this book of essays. and honestly, she comes across as very likeable. i'd read her blog.
some essays are better: the story of her first job; how she is a sushi-loving vegetarian -- this one is filled with the sort of punny humor i enjoy. being a bridesmaid for a woman she no longer knows -- also a good story that falls flat in the end. but most of the rest felt almost-something: almost funny; almost zany; almost irreverent ... like a woman who buys leppard-print undies while on a 'girls shopping weekend' but then hides then in a drawer beneath her cashmiere twinsets.
i wonder, as a person who writes things, if it is in bad form to dis a publicist's book of essays? maybe i'll try to find out someday.
READING THE INTERNET SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO
roger ebert feature i have some dim recollections of watching 'at the movies' when i was a tot. i found it simultaneously boring [too much talky talky] and enthralling [movie clips!] this feature on roger ebert was a good trip down fifth-place north west memory lane.
"the bachelor, london calling": what would happen if abc banned wine on the set of the bachelor? all of these women seem to have a perma wine glow and dull sauced eyes. would anyone fall in love? would anyone feeeeeeel anything?
* chelsea pulls out an unprecedented manuever by offering up suite-style intimacies -- before she's in the all-important second-to-final slumber party round. now what are they going to do on the next date?
* this week marks a turnaround in my feelings about shayne lamas: nicely played, young one. who knew that pulling out a blush brush and lipliner on the ski hill would completely change my impression of her? plus, now i think she looks like a carebear? i may want her to win.
* okay. i was a little done with robin and marshana by the end of this episode -- so kudos, matt. although i'm more done with chelsea than robin. although robin's french kiss-off is exactly the kind of thing she's holding onto right now and saying "i really won in the end."
"the hills: girls night out": does anyone remember that day i said spencer would bang a girl with an accent? i'm getting hints of brit from the girl he is doing shots with at s bar. everytime she says "shauts" i consider buying hoop earrings and setting up a a special fortune teller table at the head of the lakes fair.
* scenes involving whitney's new job stress me out more than when i worked for a steamrolling janet reno look alike who thought i was a lesbian at that nonprofit organization.
* kudos to heidi for the term "relationship vacation." it's cute, it's clever and it gives serious conversations a bit of a kicky hilarity. i wonder if lauren and heidi are also on a relationship vacation?
"the paper": thank you, mtv. i'll gladly follow this collection of geeks through a year at their award-winning student newspaper. that little inner-office romance that is probably making everyone in america barf ... yeah. love it. i'll watch them text message all day long. and that andrea zuckerman character is a perfect antagonist.
"battlestar galactica": so now that the centurions can think and feel, does that mean they'll begin falling and love and dating? because i can only imagine that centurions in the throws of robot passion would sound a lot like the clanging in the alley on recycling day.
i'm not ready to discuss who i think the twelfth cylon is yet, but i am ready to say who it is not: it is NOT starbuck. you heard it here first. it's also, obviously, not callie -- who was long overdue in being sent out the airlock. she has always been one steaming clothes iron from a canadian public service announcement about child abuse.
"why are you so domesticated today? oh. is it because you're ovulating?"
-- chuck, when i offered to make him breakfast
"the other jeans were tighter and made my butt look cuter. but i'm not sure that girls go for the cowboy look."
-- my landlord, after storming a sale at the gap