Sunday, November 30, 2008

why ... he looks like an ultrasound! ...

i have spent the past eight days completely off the social grid. although my lack of showering would make it seem like i was completely off the grid. this left me a lot of time to do things like getting over my preconceived notion about elliptical machines being for pussies.

i heard an interview on "all things considered" with emily wells, a young violinist slash hip hop fan on saturday. she totally won me over with a cover of biggie smalls' "juicy." also awesome, fare thee well the requiem mix. it reminds me of something that would be in a modern take on the tv show "fame." she's this violinist who changes things up in the climax of the movie, in my rewrite.


mini garlic naans: i think i've made this before. this particular recipe has the unique quality of being detailed half in metric. i guesstimated in the most literal sense, and these little buggers turned out great.

in other experimental news, i also made a meal i'll call "untitled":
saute extra firm tofu and an onion; add other favorite vegetables like tomatoes and red pepper -- whatever you like currified could be added; apply a can of aroy red curry and let the mess simmer. eat with basmati rice.

Stir of Echoes 1999: kevin bacon stars as a supernatural naysayer, who, after a few beers and a go-round with hypnosis at a neighborhood party, is opened to an otherworldly experience: solving the mystery of the disappearance of a local girl -- a story he hadn't really heard much about, despite the fact that this tight-knit hood spends an inordinate amount of quality time together. whatever. it's terrifying and great. a total on-demand roulette score.

Roadside Prophets 1992: got it: just because adam horowitz was my favorite beastie boy in 1992 doesn't mean that a movie starring the zitty adolescent known as ad-rock is going to send me in a tiger beat magazine frenzy. no, this is pure crap. also, john cusack pops up -- the only decent moment in this wickedly shitty flick. i can only hope this film doesn't appear on his resume.

The Fifth Element 1997: hmm ... willie wonka meets die hard and zoolander and parties in space. milla jovovich is fantastic, in a way i never thought possible when she was the face of seventeen magazine.

My Cousin Vinny : my lunar cycle threw some jabby elbows; i got weepy at the end of this movie.

An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England: A Novel
by brock clarke: Life lesson learned about myself while reading this book: I prefer my slapstick humor visually served up by Leslie Nielsen, as opposed to in book form, like this.

for full review here.

Weeds - Season Two : just as good as season one. better than season three

Weeds - Season Three : as i fully documented, 20-something episodes of this show can make a person go a little batshitcrazy, what with the theme song and all. also made me want to drink frapuccinos. still decent, but not as quirky and funny as the previous two season.

The L Word - Seasons 1-5 : in the two best episodes of this solid season, the gang gets completely wasted at jenny schector's house party, and in the other, there is a black out. songs that need to be downloaded from this season:

"i want you back" by jackson five
"goodbye" by asobi sksu
"spoon me" by ohm
"kiss me deadly" by lita ford
"all the girls" by costanza
"swimming pool" by freezepop
"white laughter" by heartthrobs


here is the zak bagans screen shot of the week, from a moment where he hears an unexplained noise. he looks like an ultrasound. i think zak bagans is to 2009 what tori spelling was to 2008. at least on this web site.

"ghost adventures": in this week's episode, zak bagans, his two-man posse and one strange pair of mc hammer pants travel to edinburg to spend some time in the haunted vaults beneath the city. the boyz spend from sundown to sun up trying to rile "mr. boots" a tyrant landlord who may have killed a prostitute. before the lockdown even begins, bagans tries to warn mr. boots that they are going to be in his space tryin' to make him mad.

lots of cold, hard breezes; the sound of a woman singing; and a teddy bear that moves inexplicably. i'm not sure how long this show can last without anything supernatural actually happening besides goatee'd cameraman aaron growling "duuuuuude!" and close up terror faces, night-vision shots up bagans' nose.

but i may be underestimating the audience, as recent google hits to my site have included:

"zak bagans"
"zak bagans workout"
"zak bagans nude"
"zak bagans tattoos"
"tell me about zak bagans tattoos"

so ... he has fans, that's for sure. i'm still loving this show, but seriously. i need at least a creepy shadow and soon.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

the reluctant return ...

chuck has a new schedule, which means that instead of liberating all of the grape powerade from the ghetto spur station at 2:30 a.m., i'm having a girlie alone night. [this needs a new name ... as is, it sounds like something sophomore boys would raid in search of training bras and rainbow brite underwear].

i've forgotten what happens when left to my own devices [without wine]. at some point this happened:

a single serving of pancake, shaped like mickey mouse. [although, full disclosure, i was going for a bunny. and i didn't have milk that didn't smell like elmer's glue, so i used very vanilla soy milk]. feeling pretty resourceful right now ... where are those knitting needles.

now. if i can just remember how to make myself go to bed.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

concentrate on the road ...

chas and i took an early thanksgiving trip to effing roch yesterday, fulfilling our yearly obligation to pacing hwy. 52. we stole out of duluth in mid-afternoon, knowing that without this trip we would spend another six hours with our noses pressed against another season of "weeds." while certainly tempting, the cackles coming from both of us at about the 23-episode mark of our marathon were beginning to sound a little satanic and we both seemed inches from making pop art out of feces and bed sores.

i hate being in cars for a long time. i go completely car crazy. whole stretches of highway will pass and i'll forget i'm driving, only to come to and wonder how long i was unconscious and why it feels like i held sourpatch kids prom on my tongue.

i saw a blue sign alongside the highway at some point that said "concentrate on the road." i read it aloud, then spent 10 minutes wondering if i had really seen that sign or if i was hallucinating.

fact: rochester seems to be a two applebees town.

once in effing roch, we went with my parents to dinner at the redwood room. in the olden days, a playa could bring in their own wine, for a slight corking fee. this was probably aimed toward the hoity toitsters, but with fannie and her retailian coworkers, it was a license to drink 4 dollar wine, eat free bread, and wait for the acoustic guitar player to either get attractive or straight. which ever came first.

i had their spinach salad. this salad is the one time in my strict anti-mushroom diet where i will allow myself to eat a mushroom. cravings for the redwood room's house dressings sometimes wake me in the night, and make me pray for a life where i can have vats of this mess helicoptered to my duluth residence when the whim hits. then chuck and i split this creamy cajun rice dish that tasted so good, but landed in my stomach in a way that suggested i'd been ingesting wrinkle reducing cold cream.

all four of us split white chocolate mousse with raspberry topping that was served at the wrong temperature, and so was like frozen yogurt.

afterward, my mom kept suggesting that we all go back to the house and drink tiramisu martinis. i saw right right through that plan. two chunky alcoholic drinks into the night and we'd be trapped at their house without access to effing roch's sexy night scene. instead we went downtown to a new restaurant/bar that smacked of aces on first, and drank things that cost about the same price as a year-pass for eyebrow waxing.

fact: rochester has a lot of diversity.

we parted ways around 10 p.m., chuck and i stumbling down the street to kathy's pub while the parents pista went home to compare answers to that days sudoku puzzle.
"why, kathy's!" my mom said wide-eyed. "they found a dead body there!" she forgot to mention that this particular crime involved a guy i'd graduated with. also, it didn't happen at kathy's. worst. gossip vessel. ever.

"perfect," chuck said when we walked in. "this place smells like piss."
"i think that's supposed to be popcorn," i said.

my friend beau met up with us. she's recently moved back to effing roch and totally humored our matching delayed circadian rhythm by meeting us at such a late hour on a school night.

we played a few rounds of "where is [name of lourdes high school grad] now," deconstructed "little house on the prairie" and when the time was right, we all went looking for oneniner. why? good question. probably because the zoo was closed. and also because i mentioned his first name and a stranger said "oneniner [last name]? my sister went home with him once."

first stop: rookies. closed early. a friendly waitress named something like moonbeam told us to try gilligan's. i called ahead, ordering a to-go pitcher, claiming i was moonbeam.

we got to gilligan's and oneniner was playing pool. i've always said it only takes two tries to find him in that sleepy town. you just have to look under the right rock.

our meeting was brief. and they hadn't made us a pitcher. moonbeam had squashed that bit'ness the second we left rookies. moonbeam? if you're reading this? fun.sucker.

beau dropped us off at the parents pista's place. we layed on the air mattress eating pepper jack cheese, and then it was off to my separate bedroom an entire floor away. this is okay, this separate beds thing. it's give and take: they don't let me share a surface with my 35 year old live in boyfriend of two plus years and as a payback, i don't give them their much-wanted additional grandchild.

i woke at 10 a.m. with a false, still drunk, awakeness and danced around the house greeting my parents. then i went to check on chuck and took a two hour nap with him on the airmattress. as i drifted off, i imagined doing a stand up routine that would somehow say that sleeping on an air mattress sounds a lot like making balloon animals. [i haven't really honed this yet.]

fact: ma pista doesn't know what an iphone is.

we spent the day looking at pictures of me from when i had a mullet. i broke my dad's computer by uninstalling aol. my mom made me listen to some song about when your little girl grows up from the movie "mama mia!" all while watching my face closely to see if i have a heart. i rolled my eyes and asked her to stop acting like i'm her exboyfriend. we had really good eggs with spinach and feta. my mom went into great detail about her recent trip to italy. great detail. this ended with her calling me an "agnostic." then an "atheist." i prefer to think of myself as a borderline vegetarian.

we drove back to duluth. it took about 40 hours. i made a taco dip for thanksgiving at chuck's sister's house. the last time i made food that was consumed by members of the chuckerstein family, it was spat out into a garbage can. some people don't like rosemary butter cookies. i kind of get that.

fact: on the way back chuck saw the "concentrate on the road" sign.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

some things you should know so we understand each other better ...

i have been camping, for the past two days, in the dark bedroom watching seasons 2 & 3 of "weeds"
1) this is about 27 episodes;
2) while an extremely clever show, this has the worst theme song of any tv show on the planet. by about the eighth viewing i was ruing the lack of sharp objects in my nightstand that would both fit into my ear and hit the itchy part of my brain
a) okay. there may be a few theme songs that are worse: "married with children" is the only one we could think of right off, though.

this has inspired some very strange dreams, including:
1) i'm living in a very cool apartment with jcrew and can hear her on the phone with her sister complaining loudly that i'm a slob;
2) chuck and i have a pet bulldog, although i can't remember when we got it. i walk through the apartment finding urine stains and poop piles and thinking "who walks this dog?" eventually i say to him "will you make a list of our pets for me?"

when it became obvious that we were losing our minds with all this "weeds", we went to dinner last night at the new scenic:

1) tallegio fondue
2) egg and asparagus sandwich
3) bites of chuck's squash ravioli
4) the inability to control myself in the face of this great food. i spent the next four hours waddling and moaning. and when i say i felt like i was going to give birth to a fondue baby, please know that i used to say that sort of thing before it was in the movie "juno" and it was funny. but now it's just a movie quote. diablo cody=blog funsucker.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

your skin is like diamonds ...

this week i decided to keep my meals simple. i either make something that requires saute, puree and simmer, or i take a softshell tortilla, fill it with refried beans and eat the shit out of it. this week i aimed for that elusive in-between.


tempeh rueben sandwich: 1. cut slab of rueben into four pieces; 2. roast the pieces for like 5ish minutes per side; 3. fill rye bread with sauerkraut, swiss cheese, and a piece of tempeh; 4. grill. 5. apply thousand island dressing.

fake matar paneer: 1. wring out extra firm tofu; 2. saute tofu; 3. dump madras simmer sauce into pan and let it simmer 10 minutes; 4. eat with basmati rice.

french onion soup: you'd be surprised how fun it is to sautee six red onions for a half hour. deeee-lish. although i'd use a cheaper version of swiss cheese than the fancy schmancy stuff we used.

Quid Pro Quo 2008: a reexamining of the amputation fetish that cronenberg brought to light in "crash." this stars nick stahl as a paralyzed radio show host ala ira glass who starts getting anonymous tips about a group of wannabe paraplegics who yearn for wheelchairs, leg braces, etc. while investigating, he meets fiona and gets a one-on-one tutorial on this not-so-mainstream lifestyle. two twists, but it only needed one. and the extra twist kind of undid the greatness of the other twist.

"twilight": robert pattinson sits at robert smith's makeup mirror and kristen stewart studies from the neve campbell school of wide-eyed seriousness in the hokey teen vampire romance "twilight."

lest you've fallen behind on your gen y pop culture, bella swan moves to forks, washington, and becomes embroiled in the dangerous sort of romance that they used to warn you about in after school specials: her boyfriend, edward cullen, is a vampire. and she is, obviously, a blood-tease. strutting around smelling delicious. a walking, talking, breathing slab of steak dancing under the nose of a vegetarian. here, it has teens aflutter. but when it was donna martin and ray pruett, it was supposedly a life lesson.

writer stephenie meyer bent the rules, making it not impossible for the vampires of her creation to be in direct sunlight. in one of the sillier special effects, edward's face sparkles, glittery, like he was motorboating a stripper.

"your skin is like diamonds," the practically party of fiver breathes. "it's beautiful."

the entire theater burst into laughter. thankfully we saw the movie with an audience filled wit bullshit detectors. granted, they looked like a commercial for tampax juniors. they also laughed when edward took bella on those high-speed runs through the woods and into the trees.

the storyline deviates little from the popular albeit shitty book. the roving pack of vamps that chase bella to the climax of the movie make an earlier appearance to amp up the tension. but for the most part, it is spot-on, meaning that every girl in the theater knew that close-ups of edwards eyes were something to swoon over.

the height of the movie is much better in the movie than in the book. bella facing down the rogue meat-eating vamp james. here the special effects are more matrix than the sort of crap anyone with two thumbs and windows movie maker can conjure.

i'd give it a three out of five stars, but mostly just because of the radiohead song at the end.

"spam turns serious and hormel turns out more" [via] Invented during the Great Depression by Jay Hormel, the son of the company’s founder, Spam is a combination of ham, pork, sugar, salt, water, potato starch and a “hint” of sodium nitrite “to help Spam keep its gorgeous pink color,” according to Hormel’s Web site for the product. Because it is vacuum-sealed in a can and does not require refrigeration, Spam can last for years. Hormel says “it’s like meat with a pause button.”

"Meat with a pause button": what a great phrase.

my friend/former downstairs neighbor/former jcrew seducer futbol has started a blog. in his finest moment, he likens himself to a third-world patrick swayze. i'm still laughing.

"12 year old is a food critic, and chef loves it": the new york time's story is about a preteen foodie, who chronicles his upscale restaurant meals in a leather notebook and has dreams of working for zagats. this is a golden read.

"the hills" did justin bobby say "zenful"? and worse, did that make audrina like him more?

"ghost adventures": the travel channel jumps the shark to bring you three real-life "ghostbusters," including their dull-eyed, taut tricep'd, bedhead brand gel wearing, latex t'shirt stretching romantic lead zak bagans. the premise: the band is locked in a known hauted site from sun down to sun up. while inside, they roam through tunnels and basements, taunting the ghosts to "move that chair!" or "slap me in the face!" or "talk to us!" in some scenes bagans uses the kind coaxing voice of a kindergarten teacher. in other's he tries to provoke a violent response. recent episodes include being locked in a mental institution and being locked in a factory. not much ever really happens and less is caught on film. mostly it is just dark video footage of bagans screaming out his goosebumps and that noise he heard over THERE!

this is some good stuff. i think its pretty funny when watched with an audience. i wonder if it would scare me in the dark.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

sweaters. chicken. zak. ...

yesterday i woke up, did a time-check on my cell phone and then gaped at myself in that complicated mix of "impressed" and "horror" -- a look last seen when i polished off a havarti and a gouda in a single sitting: 2 p.m. nice. 11 hours of good old fashioned wine-fused Z's. my favorite.

i've had an overpriced american eagle sweater stuck in my craw for three weeks. i frequently stop by to visit it, make sure it still costs more than my cell phone bill, then quietly back away from the demon sweater. but if i spend three weeks thinking about something, it no longer constitutes an impulse buy. so we went to the mall to make sure it was still out of my league.

it was. blasted thigh-length yarn contraption.

american eagle's sale is this: buy one sweater or something with a hood, get another sweater or something with a hood for half off. this still struck me as retail sodomy. i searched the rest of the mall for the equivalent, but came up short. took a deep breath, walked in. tried it on. hoped i'd look like 200 pounds of menopause wrapped in cheap fabric. but, no, of course not. it was adorable.

i reluctantly handed the smug american eagle flip-flops-in-winter cashier my debit card, and left the store despondent. but despondent with two new overpriced sweaters.


we went to the grocery store and it was teeming with samples. i had pretzel chips, pita chips [with three return trips to the bowl] and a chunk of chocolate chip cookie. i eyed a plate of chicken, and decided i was too young to taste botulism.

on my second trip past, i decided what the hell and toothpicked myself up a few slivers of meat. despite the heat lamp, it was cold and reminded me of what a finger would taste like if that finger was peeled with a potato peeler.

we came home and watched a few episodes of my new favorite show: ghost adventures. see my complete essay on its pretty-boy, blair witch projectian, nippleicious star zak bagans in an upcoming weakly review.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

cohabition law no. 58, before the one about the litter box ...

today chuck went to chuck's fannie's house, and came home with parting gifts. namely three inches worth of vinyl that were duplicated in chuck's fannie's collection. the loot includes:

eddie money
the best of the doobies
kenny rogers' greatest hits [kenny rocks a novembeard]
john mellencamp the lonesome jubilee [the lonesome superjubes]
rod stewart blodes have more fun [rod dry humps the cat woman]
queen a night at the opera
led zeppelin physical graffiti [a 25 days of christmas calendar that is missing the candy]
pat benetar crimes of passion
tom petty and the heartbreakers damn the torpedoes
jefferson starship spitfire [you can get this cover silk screened on a t'shirt at your local county fair. think grace slick, a hooka and a dragon]

do you know what this means this means under cohabitation law? this means i got a bunch of new records. thanks, chuck's fannie. we're one doobie bros and one tom petty song into the pile.

in other appreciative boyfriend manuevers. chuck got us one more bottle of wine than we need, but did this:

you couldn't invent a boy like this. photo by chuck.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

vocab 101 ...

last night i had to look this word up in the dictionary. i'm so glad i did. it's like swearing in spanish: i'm going to see how many times i can work it into a conversation today. this could get awkward.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

fender benders reunion tour ...

it's been 20 years since fannie and i performed our fender benders routine: part showgirls, part cabaret, part variety show, part girls choir. when chuck mentioned the show on saturday night, fannie's eyes lit. and so we danced.

Monday, November 17, 2008

a lot of talk, little action ...

and now, without further ado: stuff from the last week.

The Mysteries of Pittsburgh: A Novel by michael chabon: Art Bechstein has just graduated from college, broken up with his girlfriend, and has an entire summer with which to play. When his father, vaguely identified as a gangster, asks him about his plans, Art answers:

“I anticipate a coming season of dilated time and of women all in disarray.”

On his way out of the library for the last time, he meets Arthur, intriguing and gay, who absorbs Art into a new friend-group of hyper-real characters and teeming with sexual tension: The mythical and beautiful Jane, who is in love with the rowdy bad-boy alcoholic Cleveland; Phlox, a girl who adopts new personalities with each outfit, punk one day, a Christian the next, Art’s girlfriend one day, his ex the next. Art gets a job at Broadway Books, which is a disgusting haven of mass market titles sold by overweight EMT-wanna bes. It’s a bookstore that Art believes looks like it should sell meat and that the whole book thing was an unfortunate accident.

full review here.

Feel Good Ghosts i am madly in love with cloud cult right now, and aside from spinning some fleetwood and lionel vinyl on saturday night, this is all i'm listening to. it's my mp3 musical monogamy. favorites from this cd include: "everybody here is a cloud"; "story of the grandson of jesus"; "journey of the featherless."

the impatient patient: as a person who was robbed at gunpoint -- as i like to remind people -- i thought this was a really interesting essay, especially the need to write about what happened. granted, this woman's story was far worse than mine [and she concedes that other stories are worse than her's] but i think that a robbery is a robbery and being scared shitless is being scared shitless and having your stuff taken from you, regardless of how it happened or the brutality involved, makes you a little introspective. i also especially got the parts where she's asking why someone thinks they can do this.

foodies make me sick [via]: jessi klein writes about how she needs air, but doesn't consider herself an "airie". "I love menus and forks and appetizers and the anticipation of desserts. But I hate that foodies feel like every meal has to have the same wow-factor as their birthday [bj]. I once tried to make dining plans with a foodie friend and it took over ninety minutes to agree on a place that met all of her qualifications for ambiance, cuisine, and service. You would have thought we were negotiating Israeli borders."

Sunday, November 16, 2008

fannie makes her mark ...

my bff fannie was in town on saturday night, which -- per usual -- means that my body became the prefered canvas of the night.

we started the night with some ghost impersonations.

then fannie decided to tattoo my upper arm.

this is her favorite way to mark me.

chuck got in on it, adding this.

then added this.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

yes, virginia, there really is a coffee fairy ...

hah! this was left for us in the mailbox at casa de coffee snobs. i marked it so there would not be any confusion. thanks, coffee fairy!

phoning it in ...

today, exasperated with at&t and the impossibility of navigating their web site to pay my bill and the bonus security code they added to my account, i finally had to call the 800 number and read my credit card number.

sensing my frustration, they waived the five dollar payment they charge for taking the information by phone. when i asked how much my bill was, they couldn't tell me because i didn't know this fictitious security code that somehow landed on my account. and to get the additional security code removed, i have to take two forms of ID to an at&t store.

that's worse than actually buying stamps.

my big questions for the manager were:
1) why would someone hack in and pay my bill for me? and if they wanted to do so, why would i make it harder for them to do so?
2) do you, at&t, actually want me to pay my bill? because with this level of difficulty it doesn't seem like you do.

after all was said and done i finally just said:


i'm claiming a win.

Thursday, November 13, 2008

on the list of mutual dislikes ...

the french vanilla coffee has now been marked to reflect the contents. looks like brother pista's christmas present is taken care of: one slightly used bag of beans. DISCLAIMER: this is not a statement against alakef coffee, which is roasted in duluth by the sort of people who will give you the bookcases off their back. rather, if it is an anti-flavored coffee sentiment. juan freaking valdez could personally sweat over this vanilla nonsense and i'd snub the gift. photo by chuck.

things were a little dicey here this morning at casa de coffee snobs. both chas and i had the sort of sleep that leaves one with marshmallow face and the sort of stubborn eye boogers that require one of those mr. mucous ball syringes for infants to extract.

we were: 1. out of coffee; 2. out of coffee filters, and i'm not one of those classy bitches with a supply of hanes her way control top panty hose to use in a pinch, anyway.

i woke first and decided to ignore the dull call for coffee and hope that a starbucks cropped up at the end of our street before the situation became too intense. then chuck got up. sat quietly in the blue glow of his laptop and announced he was walking to burrito union to get us coffee.

he returned minutes later. somehow we've become people who wake before burrito union opens. piss-poor planning on our part.

we sat quietly some more. chuck decided to go to the grocery store to fix this. he came home with the loot: a bag of alakef beans and enough filters dress the full cast of a musical about amish women.

chuck brews up a batch, walks into the kitchen and makes a horrified sneer: instead of french roast, he got french vanilla roast. this was absolutely unacceptible. because right there on the list of mutual dislikes, between LOLCATS and vin diesel, is flavored coffee or coffee that is diluted in any way to detract from hot, black, strong and caffinated.

on top of that, the coffee maker had malfunctioned, leaving us to split the spoils of half a pot of something that tasted like it should be served with estrogen pills and a scrapbooking kit.

10 hours later, chuck asked me if the house still smelled like french vanilla coffee [no] because he could still taste it [yes.]

Monday, November 10, 2008

crystal gayle+cousin itt=coat ...

this guy came walking toward me tonight wrapped in a fur coat. like a fur-fur coat. the kind of thing susan lucci would wear. like he was trapped in antarctica and had skinned cousin itt and crystal gayle's love child. he looked like a total muppet.

then i noticed he was also carrying the hanger.

which begs the question, why?
spontaneous purchase at usa foxx and furs?
"would you like a bag, sir?"
"nah, i'll just wear it."
"but sir! your hanger!"
"gimme that."

or maybe he worked in the coat check at the harbor view ballroom and had just been berated for hanging something the wrong direction.
"screw this," he says, "i quit."
he rips the nearest coat off the bar. it just happens to be the skins of a thousand chincillas.
"and i'm taking this with me," in his haste he doesn't realize he has also taken the hanger. he keeps it as a weapon, lest the monied blue hair tries to track him down.

maybe he just signed a major record deal, and was going to celebrate at the top of the harbor restaurant, which is -- in his circles -- known for its inferior hangers.


life lesson: running clothes in a cold car equal chilly spandex covering those chilly parts spandex covers.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

next week: same time, same place ...

so celebrating election day totally threw me off my game and made it impossible to function for the rest of the week. i blame rt quinlan's.

with that, i bring you photos of food:

roasted red pepper coconut soup [Moosewood Restaurant Daily Special: More Than 275 Recipes for Soups, Stews, Salads and Extras] it's pretty hard to take satisfaction from making this recipe when i didn't actually roast the red peppers, i just opened a couple of jars [which were, admittedly, tricky jars]. that was the difference between a meal that takes an hour to make and one that takes like 20 minutes. the taste? the taste is the same. street cred shot. anyway, roasted red pepper soup is among my favorites. i'd have preferred that it was a little more spicy, but that's my own fault for not taking the moosewood cookbook people up on the suggestion of adding more cayenne pepper to taste.

pumpkin pancakes with honey raspberry syrup [via]: so today was the first annual pancake day here, and i woke early and began making this special raspberry syrup that was messy and by the end i looked like i'd slit my wrists and done a pollack all over the stove. but it was good. then came the pumpkin pancakes: ginger, cinnamon, and all sorts of things that say "fall" and "yum."

what. a. nightmare.

the batter was super thick, even though i followed the instructions. it was virtually impossible to get the insides done. chuck cut his cake open and found it didn't pass the toothpick test and decided on raisin bran instead of the opportunity to get worms. i threw the cakes in the over for an hour and ended up eating something like pancake shaped pumpkin bread. it was good. but not as good as it should have been.

here's a particularly gruesome after shot:

but i got right back on the horse and made this for dinner:

curry cauliflower soup [also from moosewood, but available on this person's site]: THIS WAS AWESOME! MAKE THIS.

The Life Before Her Eyes : for about one hour, 25 minutes this movie is incredible. uma thurman stars as a woman who is losing her mind on the 15 anniversary of a massive school shooting at her high school. it's told largely in flashback, where
evan rachel wood stars as the young uma. she's young, a troublemaker, has a very christian best friend with whom she has the sort of conversations that occur between stoned philosophy majors five years their senior. when the gunfire starts, they are in the bathroom talking about boys, applying lipstick, considering what it mans to be comprised of 70 percent water. they hear the gunshots and the screams and stand waiting and terrified until the shooter finds them in the bathroom and asks which one he should shoot. a cardinal rule of writing is broken in the last five minutes and it is unforgiveable. in a lesser movie i could have let it go. but this ending pissed. me. off.

Morvern Callar: 2002: morvern callar finds her dead boyfriend laying with his wrists slit between the kitchen and the living room. instead of calling the police, she goes through his stuff, opens christmas presents he'd left, eventually takes money from his cold, dead, back pocket and goes to a holiday party. eventually she tells her friends that he left her. and eventually she chops up his body and buries him. and then she takes the novel he wrote, deletes him as author and inserts her own name. then she proceeds to live the high life. motivations? not sure. this movie is better to think about than actually watch.

nanowrimo: i quit at exactly 3000 words, but wrote 1,400 more just to justify that i was doing the right thing. i'm erasing that 1,400 words and tending to the first 3,000 in a less structured way. i will miss my nightly tea, blanket, laptop fest.

dorothy parker: well, holy hoppin' sassafrass. [a more specific response to what i've been reading would require standing up. maybe next week? same time same place?]

Saturday, November 8, 2008

winter? you are my bitch. ...

Friday, November 7, 2008

from the freakish feature files ...

left hand. pinkie nail. it's like i dip it in a mix of rainwater and miracle gro every night before bed. this nail has always been the freak in the batch, it's title usurped only the time i had a 14 inch hair growing out of my stomach.

and a side view:

this nail will continue to sprout until the first time i consume more than two consecutive beers, at which point i'll gnaw it to a nub and then start all over again.