Idea theft

Dammit, first someone stole my idea for a magazine named Spread (mine was going to be a cooking mag, but instead it's now the magazine of the sex industry).

Now it turns out that someone's already making lobster ice cream, which I've been dying to try for three years. But Dan promised me that when he gets his new gelato maker, I can use it to experiment, and I'm still going to. They say Ben & Bill’s is disgusting; mine will be a WD-50-worthy delicacy!

Yay, Notyomomma!

Check out the Sometimes Maniacal but Mostly Mundane Thoughts of a 30 Year Old up in Boston. Yay, Boston! Yay, Notyomomma! And she rocks not only for being a hometown gal, not only because she too loves the game Taboo, but also because she linked to me!

I feel so honored. It's like I've made good with the folks back home.

And she went to Wellesley, and I went to Smith, so we're like Seven Sisters sisters!

Thanks, Notyomomma. Now go get yourself some nice linen pants at H&M or Old Navy so you don't have to wear wool to work in the heat!

hot and cross buns

Though I was very responsible with the sun while in the Pacific Northwest, once I got to Sleazeside all caution went out the window. The girls and I hit the sand in suits designed for maximum solar absorption, and this is what happens...


when you miss a spot (or a quarter of your body) while reapplying sunscreen. Lying butt-up for two straight hours without flipping over, absorbed in Harry Potter, didn't help either, I'm sure.

I just hope no one else feels compelled to spank me, at least until this heals.

In the bag

For those of you who love my red leather purse with the convenient zip pockets (and there have been a few who have asked about it), you can get it online, and for way less than what I paid for it (damn you, cute Park Slope boutique!). Apparently I have the Melissa Bag, and I love it so much that for these much lower prices, I may also get the Martha.

Pimm's Bath

More love for the Pimm's Cup.

Addendum courtesy of MUG:
"We left out an important sentence in our Pimm’s Cup article: ‘lemonade’ in the British use, is 7Up or something similar, not American-style lemonade."

Riding the Range

"Into the Wild, Wild West, in a snappy buckskin vest."

Damn, I love those Backyardigans. Wait, you don't know the Backyardigans? But I love them so, more than everybuggy else.

McSweeney's Likes a Good George W. Bush Joke as Much as the Next Guy....

Please allow me to wallow and gloat for a moment.

Super Soaker

Wow, remember Assasin from high school? I played once, in my freshman year. My assigned target was this senior boy I had a huge crush on all year, and right before the tournament kicked off, we had started dating. So he was all "I'll teach you how to play this and give you advice from my vast experience as an older guy," and his most important advice was, never let down your guard, never trust anyone... And then I shot him while we were making out in the stacks of the library, at very close range.

apologies....

I know, many people use their blog as a space to *keep* in touch while on a fabulous multi-city, well-earned vacation. Then there's me. Any excuse to stay away from the keyboard.

I've been scribbling a few notes in my Palm, and promise to do a bit of updating when I get back next week. And I miss you all as much as you miss me, I really do.

Quick summary: First Seattle, now Vancouver, back to Seattle tomorrow night (where I hope to see more of the absolutely great, smart, funny, sweet, creative guy I met there a few days ago), then Seaside Heights, Jersey Shore. For the record, Seattle is about 100 times more gorgeous than I remembered it being, but it helps to be visiting with dear friends and not staying in a conference hotel room. And Vancouver? Berkeley-esque, but prettier, with seashore.

Yes, I invited the Bachelor to come to the Shore with me, but, in his typical expiration-date fashion, and also being absolutely incapable of ever saying no, he just ignored the invite. All the better, I'm too relaxed right now to play those games. Anyway, last time I saw him, he was being such an asshole that I'm still regretting that I didn't kick him out of the car. (Thankfully, Bachelor #3 was also there that night to attend to me instead. And you'd think that would have been awkward...)

And yes, someone's watching the monkey. Four cat-sitters, to be precise. Yes, four; she craves attention.

In The Cups: Mixology

You know how I love me some Pimm's Cup.

Dinner at Jean-Georges

So, for all my slaving and suffering over the contentious project for the past six months, someone quit, someone else got promoted, and I was given $200 to spend on a fancy dinner and expense it.

$200!!!! Nowhere near the bonus I would have expected. But with my magical powers of getting reservations at hot restuarants, Haneway and I were in at Jean-Georges the next night.

Lovely lovely lovely. Excellent service, and entertaining fellow diners. Here's what we had...

• A glass of Pierre Gimonnet blanc de blancs. Jane had a glass of Nicolas Feuillatte brut rose


• half-bottle of Cristom pinot noir, Mt. Jefferson Oregon 2002


• trio of hamachi on brioche, goat cheese and cracked pepper under gelee with basil, and chilled basil soup with shrimp.


• First course. Egg caviar: wet scrambled eggs topped with vodka-infused whipped cream and Caspian oscetra.
  Fois gras sandwiched in grilled brioche, with cherry-yuzu compote.


• Second course. Seared sea scallops and cauliflower with caper-raisin emulsion.
  Slivered suzuki with rhubarb semifreddo and grated fennel. (We switched halfway.)


• Third course. Garlic soup with thyme, frog's legs, and a finger bowl.
  Asparagus on asparagus puree with morel sauce.


• Fourth course. Steamed turbot fillet with finely diced zucchini and tomato, in a lovely, rich wine-based sauce.
  Poached sea bass with poblano peppers, Japanese eggplant and purple potato puree. Mine smells magnificent, Haneway's has great texture. She said the eggplant was like eating pinecone, but good. We switched, and switched back, because I liked mine more. My sauce was so delicious it made me grateful for my sauce spoon.


• Fifth course. Lobster on crouton with lemongrass-fenugreek broth with greenery.
  Lobster with mace, lychee & baby celery leaves, red clear juicy broth. We watched the lone diner across from us read his magazine while wolfing down his fois gras en brioche. Found out later he is a Russian new-money magnate.


• Sixth course. Squab with yummy sauce, preserved lemon, onion compote, corn cake, fois gras and mache.
  Baby rack of lamb with cardamom-panko crust and fava-bean puree.

After-dinner drinks and sweets:

• Coqnac Germain-Robin XO Jean-Georges


• Amontillado sherry


• chocolate, rhubarb dessert tastings


• macarons


• vanilla, cardamom & coffee marshmallows


• chocolates

The expense report has already been submitted. If all they're giving me is a fancy dinner (and by the way, it didn't even cover half; I was hoping to at least subsidize Haneway's dinner a bit), I'm cashing in on that as soon as possible.

2.5 miles in 30 minutes, 35 seconds

That's 12 minutes 20 seconds per mile. An excellent time, which is bizarre because I did it walking one minute, running the next. Also bizarre because I woke up coughing up chunks, which is why the walking shifts. Gotta take it a bit easier, but clearly I am running too fast!

Press Briefing

Rumor has it that the White House Press Corps has stopped rolling over and playing dead. It'll be nice to see if anything comes of this.

And people ask why I'm a marrow donor

Really, how can you even question, when you see the good it does? Until I'm called, I'll just give blood, like I did yesterday.

running sucks, but it could be worse

So my run yesterday morning was deadly. I ran the longest stretch to date before taking a walking break, but then I couldn't get started again. Every time I started to run, I caved after a few minutes. It was bad. I even had the coach running with me, trying to figure out why I was struggling, trying to keep me motivated. My only consolation was that almost everyone else in the group was having just as much trouble. Maybe it was the humidity, maybe there was a high pollen count and the air quality sucked.

Anyway, things could have been worse ...
me: but now that I started running, I'm trying to be better
z: running?
me: I'm in training
z: for?
me: I'm doing this program for beginning runners
z: oh i see
me: at the end of the summer we'll run a 10K race
z: i can't run - can't get into it
me: it helps to have 10-15 people urging you on
z: yeah i bet
me: I've been running 3+ miles every sunday and tuesday morning
me: but when I try to do it on my own, I suck
z: kills me
me: me too, but then I feel better
me: and I want to get all strong and buff and athletic
z: i may start taking some classes - my friends do "israeli combat boxing" and that sounds pretty hardcore
me: dear god
me: yeah. but put "israeli combat" in front of anything and it sounds hardcore
z: well, it's a former israeli commando dude teaching you
z: lol
z: but yes, you're right
me: israeli combat fishing
me: israeli combat dentistry
me: israeli combat quilting

The Madonna Code

"In the last years of his life, Lomax had come to view music as a kind of code that carried fundamental information about the culture that produced it; it was a code he thought he'd cracked. 'Society and the arts are joined by what may prove to be general laws,' he wrote."

I've always felt that pop music is our generation's poetry, and that our society is stratified by what we listen to. In the land of John Hughes, high school kids might break down in to socio-economic cliques, but in my hogh school, the deadheads didn't associate with the metalheads, who didn't associate with the art-rock kids. Even now, as an adult, I'm always shcked when I discover that a close friend is totlaly unfamiliar with, say, Fables of the Reconstruction. "How can we possibly be friends and get along so well?" I always wonder.

Free Movies all summer

Sure, sure, Bryant Park on Mondays. But did you know that River Flicks, courtesy of the Hudson River Park Trust, also offer free popcorn, as well as that lovely view of the river?

Brangelina: please say it's so

If it's true that the goddess is gravid, then this will be the sexiest baby alive! I only hope they'll leave the poor kid's hair alone. Maddox has a mohawk these days, and Brad is hitting the bleach again. Is good hair a gift reserved only for Angelina? (and me, of course.)

Of course she is denying the rumors, but then again, so is Demi Moore, and she's like six months along now. But I suspect this is not the first pregnancy for la Jolie. Back in November, she did a cover article feature for Allure magazine. Not included in the linked archive is an oft-used feature of said cover packages, where they have the star in question look at a stack of old photos of themselves and comment on what they were thinking or wearing or digesting when the photo was taken. In reference to a photo of herself in a flowing dress, that billowed noticeably in front, Angelina said that she had a secret when that photo was taken, that she was hiding something. Were I a better reporter, I could give you more proof than inuendo here, or at least the photo. Alas, this is why I'm on the production side of things.

Persian Love Cake

So pretty, such a charming name, and I do love me some cardamom in my baked goods.

What, suddenly this is a home and garden blog? Next thing you know, I'll be giving you the updates on my knitting projects! Oy.

Of the men who undressed me in my foyer this weekend...

...one then went for the bed, the other for the couch; one left too soon, the other I couldn't get rid of fast enough; and one was only there at all because the other one wasn't.

The Bachelor and I had a lovely time on Friday night. And more on Saturday. He was sweet and charming and funny and attentive and ... ohmygod so good. I know I've talked about circus sex in the past, but that was just adventure. This was so far beyond, good thing the neighbors were out of town for the holiday weekend. No tricks or bells and whistles or feats of exhibitionism either, just enthusiasm and a talent, and a big payoff for my patience.

Alas, the Bachelor has a built-in expiration, and the alarm usually goes off after about a dozen hours or so. As I'd used up my quota for the week, he wasn't available to enjoy he fruits of my bender on Sunday. Which leads us directly to the door of...

The Biker, also known as "Chew-your-arm-off-and-leave-it-behind-in-Harlem-if-you-have-to-but-get-out-at-all-costs Guy." Why on earth would I hook up with him again? I was drunk, he's a good kisser with a hard body (biker as in cyclist, not Harley), and the Bachelor didn't answer my messages.

That said, there are a few lessons to be learned here.

-- If you have to keep score ("I went down on you in the bar; now it's your turn"), then you've already lost.

-- If you push down on the top of my head even once, it will be the last time you will be in a position to do so. This is not a porn flick, I am not a prostitute, and you need to show some respect and appreciation.

-- As I am non-confrontational to a fault, I probably won't actually kick you out -- unless you've gotten physically violent. But if I don't offer you a shower, a toothbrush (I keep a stash of spares, courtesy of my dentist), or breakfast, consider yourself unwelcome.

Also, "You're so macho" is not a compliment, Don Juan.

Nicfit, if you're reading this, please stop me from ever making that mistake again. Three strikes is enough.

Two Yuenglings, some underwear, and a glass of water

That's what we ordered when we got to CB's Gallery at sort of the intermission of Nicfit's day-long birthday "brunch." I thought I was being so wise and virtuous having water (you can see the underwear here), and might have even believed that I'd sobered up a fair bit by the time I headed uptown.
But then I scribbled this blog post in my Palm while in the cab:

did i ever tell you all about
how the cokehead alcoholic read all the blog archives and then asked me never to talk to him again? I never foond ootif it was that i stolehis Viagra, or that I felt like was slumming, or that i called him a cokehead alcoholic. But that's what he is; he must have known, right? maybe he would have preferred that i'd called him the bedwetter?

...and then passed out soon after arriving at Nomda's hotel room. When I awoke, she helpfully played the voicemail I'd left her, to banish any remaining misconceptions of sobriety.

Despite lots of sleep yesterday, I'm still recovering. So no, I did not get up at six this morning to run another 3.34 miles like I did on Sunday.

(While we're on the subject, latest running stats are:
Last Tuesday -- 2.75 miles in 39 minutes, 14.2 minutes/mile
Sunday -- 3.34 miles in 45 minutes, 13.5 minutes/mile
Today -- sweet, sweet sleep)

Small Victories

I was so proud of the monkey, and myself, this morning. As the cat hair problem is really getting out of control (yes, it's true, she's getting shaved on Thursday, make your jokes now), I'm trying to be a better disciplinarian. Absolutely no fridge, and no kitchen counter, no matter how delicious the food smells. Yesterday morning, with a naked biker listening from the bedroom, there was an extended, and vocal, battle of wills as I prepared a dish of canned food.

This morning, victory! She waited patiently, if attentively, as I prepared the dish. I thought we'd reached a peaceful understanding. My hopes were soon dashed, though, for as soon as I took out the arugula to prepare my own lunch, she was deep in the thick of it. Ah, the siren call of those leafy greens!