Thursday, June 08, 2006


I have been quite the clutz today! At the gym my ipod flew off my elliptical not once, not twice, but THREE times. That is unforgivable.

And then tonight, ravenous from the aforementioned Gym Experience, I attempted to make a healthy dinner. Sort of! I put a Trader Joe's frozen veggie enchilada entree in the oven, and had about 50 minutes of waiting to get through before it would be ready. 50 minutes, when you're either ravenous or me, is an impossible amount of time to wait, so I decided to make a salad. I got out my romaine lettuce, my goat cheese crumbles, my dried cranberries enhanced with Omega 3's, and my 80% full new bottle of Trader Joe's Raspberry Dressing, which is totally scrumptious stuff. Everything was going so well until the bottle of dressing slipped out of my hand and shattered across my kitchen floor. Red raspberry liquid splatter-smeared EVERYWHERE, and the glass bottle basically pulverized itself. And because we're out of paper towels, I had to clean up that sad mess with Swiffer dusters and Lysol Disinfectant Wipes. It took a long time. I was really sad about the loss of dressing, but I took a crack at whipping up my own using some sweet/hot mustard, red wine vinegar, olive oil, and fresh ground pepper. You'd think fresh is better than pre-prepared but YOU'D BE WRONG. It WASN'T THE SAME. Mainly because I didn't use raspberries. WHATEVER!

My rage made me even MORE hungry, so I decided to open up a new package of herbed turkey slices, no nitrates added! It came in one of those convenient resealable plastic jobbers, which I've always had a lot of luck with. Opening and resealing, I mean. Not tonight. Because tonight I was retarded. Literally. I felt like the world was teaching me a lesson on empathy, because now I know what it's like to not have the simple things work for you. I COULD NOT OPEN THE TURKEY. I easily zipped off the top unzipper part, but when I got to the red resealable line, things became IMPOSSIBLE. It WOULDN'T UNSEAL! I broke a sweat trying to unseal the goddamn seal! And when I couldn't do it with my own brute strength, I took a knife to the plastic. I know, so stupid, what with my present luck. Don't take a sharp knife to anything when you're retarded. Which I was. Tonight. But I did it, because I WAS SO HUNGRY and I was still waiting for my enchiladas to cook and my salad had just been a salad which is like food foreplay --it's good but it ain't gonna satisfy -- so I needed some nitrate-free herbed turkey in my gullet just to hold me over and I took a knife, a real sharp knife to it and really almost cut myself real real bad. I was lucky that I did not. And as lucky as I was to avoid knifing my hand for the love of turkey, I almost started crying because I FAILED TO OPEN THE TURKEY! Like, who can't open turkey?! BESIDES INFANTS AND RETARDS?! Honestly, I'm being offensive. Retards can TOTALLY OPEN TURKEY. It's ME who CANNOT. I mean, It's I who CAN'T.

Ugh, I'd return it to the store but that would be embarrassing! I can just imagine the cashier in his adorable Trader Joe's Hawaiian T-Shirt asking, "What's wrong with it?" And I'd be all, "Oh, nothing. I just can't seem to get it open! Ha! Ha! Ha! Hey! I CAN'T OPEN RESEALABLE PACKAGES OF SLICED TURKEY! YOUR CONVENIENT FOOD IS TOO INCONVENIENT FOR ME! Also: I'm retarded but I have a credit card! Crazy, huh?! Wait, where are you going...I'm still talking..."

Long story longer: I had to wait for the enchiladas to cook. And then they were ready. I mildly burned myself getting them out of the toaster oven. But only mildly. At least I didn't choke on them when I ate them! SCORE! I may be Queen Clumsy but this Queen knows how to cook!*

*reheat pre-made meals

Tuesday, June 06, 2006


You don't need to drop hundred dollar bills at those Hedonism Resorts for a Real Good Time. Instead, do this:

Grab $1.50 in change or bills or a combination of the two.
Find Second Avenue between 6th and 7th Street, the west side of the street.
Walk into Moishe's Kosher Bakery.
Wait your turn in line.
Order an Apple Strudel.
Pay for it.
Eat it.



Monday, June 05, 2006


...Joe. But call him Trader. That's the cute little pet-name I gave him and he's such a man he doesn't mind if you use it, either. I just want you, my parents, to know that Trader treats me really really well. Mom, I know you always ask me when I bring up the new guy in my life, "...but is he GOOD to you?" and this time I can say, without a doubt, yes. Oh, mom, I've finally won the boyfriend lottery! Trader is SO SO GOOD TO ME! He anticipates my needs and desires better than anyone I've ever been with. It's like, every time I'm with him, I am left completely and utterly satisfied. Why, just tonight, Trader did one of his Trademark Moves: he asked me to take a gamble, and I did, and subsequently won BIG-TIME in doing so. It's like, how could I NOT be in love with you, Trader? Chili-Spiced Dried Mango Slices? this Spicy...dried...sweet...fruit? Oh my god! OH MY GOD! OHHHHHMYYYYYGOOOOD IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL YES! YES! YES! Oh sweetheart! It's so BEAUTIFUL! YES! YES!

Am I surprised? Oh darling, not at all! I mean, a little, but a woman always knows, doesn't she? Don't cry, sweetheart, I love you, too, darling. Forever and ever, yes! I promise, yes of course! Oh, sweety, I know you love me, too. I've never thought otherwise. This was meant to be. Oh, Trader, you are GOOD to me.

Sunday, June 04, 2006


I went to dinner with a new lady-friend on Thursday! I love dinner-dates, and I have, in the last few months, especially enjoyed my lady dinner-dates. And not just because I don't have to worry about shaving my armpits beforehand, but that is a big part of it. There's less pressure in dining platonically with a lady, although on Thursday night you wouldn't have known it by looking at me or my behavior. Because it was a FIRST DATE, I spent some time in my boudoir nervously preparing my outfit and maquillage. I wanted to look cute! I wanted to look cool! I wanted the date to GO WELL! I even wore a DRESS, though it was Thunderstorm Central outside. The dress was a totally good idea, until, on my way to Union Square I walked over a subway grate and, a la Marilyn in Seven Year Itch, my entire dress blew up over my head, causing me to flash 100 indifferent strangers. I'm not sure which was worse: the flashing or their indifference. I literally squealed for about 30 seconds as I tried to recover. Then I found my date, making no mention of the Incident. That wouldn't be the first time during this date that I acted sort of shady. Really.

My date wanted to go to Friend House, a pan-asian restaurant that I've eaten at exactly once. Never returned because I didn't like it. But because this was a FIRST DATE and I wanted it to go well I LIED AND SAID I'D NEVER BEEN AND THAT IT SOUNDED GOOD. I know: WTF?! It's not like I needed to lie to get my date to sleep with me, but I lied to BE EASY and so we went to Friend House, a pan-asian restaurant that, again, was not so great. And I realized, as my date and I ate our dinner, that for many people dinner-dates are NOT ABOUT THE FOOD; they are about Conversation and Getting To Know Each Other Better. And that is a LESSON for someone like me, a person who is often MORE INTERESTED IN FOOD THAN PEOPLE. As we ordered, I betrayed myself AGAIN by acting enthusiastic about a shared appetizer that I knew my date was really into but that I was totally not. And I'm still deciding if doing this makes me a weirdo liar or socially adaptable or actually a nice person. I'm usually so bossy about ordering and just KNOW what's good, but my priority on Thursday was to cultivate a pleasant relationship, not eat a single, satisfying meal. I think...I'm...growing...up? Must be, because at the end of the date, which extended nicely to a bar for drinks and MORE conversation, my new friend and I exchanged numbers and enthusiastically said "Let's do this again!" Success, right?!

FULL DISCLOSURE: Neither my date nor I have reached out to each other to say we had fun. We haven't called or e-mailed. Which is something you'd expect/do with a guy, right? But I don't think that means we won't do it again. I think it just means that with platonic dates, you don't have to abide by the same social rules that you do with romantic dates. I think. I hope she calls!