Wed. The 28th. My birthday is less then 4 months away.
Hi, I’ve seen you before. Across the ballroom I could feel you stare at me. But I only felt it in hindsight. I didn’t notice because I distracted by my 2 years of anxiety and worry and heartbreak that fill this ballroom. Past history can take you out of enjoying your present moment.
Stacey introduced us, because you were staring at me. When I looked at you I felt a rush of dopamine, a surge of pheromone . "lorraine this is Roy." "I know you from somewhere Roy?" "Oh in Band and Djed at Century?" “No that can’t be it…" Well maybe.." Umm mystery.
I’ve meet you before I can feel it. When I looked at you I felt a rush of dopamine, a surge of pheromone. My favorite chemical dependency. An intoxicating biological connection of histamines or pheromones clicking into reactive gear. I felt dissected by your eye contact. Held a little longer than social norms allow for those not intimately involved. “I’d let you hug me one more time, but I don’t know you. Although I’m sure you’d like to touch my fuzzy red coat again.”
I’m sorry though, I’m not available. Even though he’s gone and left me. I’m just not. I wish I was. I wish I was. Nothing is gonna change my world.
There must be a song that doesn’t remind me of him. There must be.
Thurs. We share a birthday. Ours and today it’s Jesse’s 90th.
Hi Aaron, nice to meet you. A friend of Roy’s?
Hi Roy, nice to meet you again. Thanks for coming. Have some candy corn and dance with me. No Chocolate? No Wine? No sticky cheese. No cigarettes? Have a vodka? Have an absinthe. I’ll make it for you. And after I did you enjoy it, and I like that you do, secretly knowing there are not many times a man likes something I’ve made. So I relish in this some.
I’ll see you soon. I’m sorry I’m not available. I’m just not. I wish I was. Nothing is gonna change my world. Well I might waiver a little. Since you’re so handsome and clever and since my basic biology surges when you’re near.
Fri. Sun Liquor and play me some music. You played me a song that didn’t remind me of someone old. This is something new.
You’re a philosopher I’ve discovered. You never know. You kissed me. You asked if you could. You: “May I kiss you?” me: “Would you like to have a philosophical conversation about it?”
Maybe something is gonna change my world.
Saturday. Halloween. I’m complicated by others being here that know my ex. Forgive me for being stand-off-ish. I wish I could explain. I can’t as I can’t even explain it to myself. I hope I don’t offend you. I want you near but I can’t with these people here.
But I find you intoxicating. And your incredibly cute as Joey Ramone in skinny jeans.
Tuesday. The Little Red Hen, a failed Sidecar. We bonded over Aaron’s female dilemmas and what I know how to work best: friendship with women. You danced with me. To a song that didn’t remind me of something old. It can now remind me of you.
We frolicked over cheese almonds apples and absinthe in the chaise lounge built for one, best used by two who like eachother. Us two. You talked. I took off my dress in a sober moment. We frolicked innocently but apprehensively under Audrey Hepburn. In a beret, a scarf, black panties and vintage 1940’s red platforms with a peep toe. You stayed with me until I had to work. But I want you to go. I’m freaked.
Friday. Your Combo. Victory. Lounge.
My first. You had me at Howdy folks. You’re a performer. You’re good. Wow you really are good. You can sing, and they love it. I love it. I expected no less though. You kissed my neck in front of your entire group of something old, and my something new. The only way I could do it. I’m amazed you can.
I stayed. You played me the Beatles we laughed and didn’t sleep. My hair was a mess. I was intoxicated with lust and connection, something just touchable and within reach. It became Saturday. We read the Seattle Weekly and you’re in it and you’re a deserving star and I’m star struck.
Ripped slip, wool stockings and 80 year old gold heels on donation. You’re a man I know now. You wanted to stay but I’m a little freaked, so I make you leave. My gut tells me you will freak too if I don’t make you leave. I know you like it better this way. The New Orleans Bump. And a cigarette.
Phone: it’s fortunate that we both like black panties with white trim. But I wanted you to leave. I’m tired. And don’t trust myself. Plus I don’t want you to freak. But I’m insane with lust. Maybe something is gonna change my world.
Sunday. I’m insane with lust and sick with apprehension. You write me explanations of simple complex spirals in red on paper dinner napkins. I fall a little more with your metaphors and meaningless. You tell me you freaked. I know I really do.
Let’s not kiss please. This is already breaking me. Diatribe. “When two people both feel the connection and passion, that’s just rare! Rare! Sometimes one feels it and the other doesn’t. That happens often enough. But when you both get it, that’s rare.” Btw, I’ve heard this before.
You looked me in the eye, over candlelight for five minutes straight. FIve minutes over three candle lights.Held so long we are officially intimately involved, even if not crossing physical boundaries, and even if not saying so. I felt looked at. Thoroughly looked through. I’m just beginning to understand. I get it: you’re intense and painful and full of apprehension and tension and lack of counterbalalnce. You pull away. I pull away. I can feel it from here.
simple complex spirals written in red on paper napkins
Tuesday, November 10
Tuesday, September 29
none
I’m so sad not to have you in my life sometimes. It’s crazy how much I struggle. Life is really tough.. when you're truly alone... I didn’t know you were my best friend. A frown line is sinking into the skin on my forehead
Sunday, September 20
What I learned last night: You won’t fall asleep on a soggy pillow.
I’m struggling. In a deep pain. I’m so devastated to not have you in my life. I loved you deeply truly and honestly, whole and with my entirety. I wanted to talk with you I wanted to be there for you as you developed into whatever you become. I admit I lost myself some, much, but I was trying to support you. NO I wasn’t there to support you financially, but I tried in the ways I knew how. I wanted to develop these further with you. I wanted to talk with you, but you didn’t ever talk back and I wasn’t the pushy type to make you do it. And now you hold that against me. Real nice jackass. But I struggle. I want you in my life. I don’t want to live without you.
I’m scarred. I trusted you to not let me go. To not to cast me aside. I trusted you with my heart. I thought you would always be there for me. I can no longer trust. I have no love left. None to give. None to give to my friends, none to give to my family, none to give to anyone new. You f7cking stole it all, and used it up, and tore it apart, you useless greedy slug. I can no longer love. You didn’t care for me with a lovely gentile hand. I trusted you use care for me with a gentile hand. To treat my heart with care. I can no longer touch anyone without feeling hallow. I have become untrusting. I use to trust. You f8cking stole it from me. I use to trust. I use to love. You fucking stole it from me you useless piece of shiiit. I was used and unloved when I wanted to be loved and I loved back honestly. I’m scarred.
I’m scared. I’m scared because I’ve come to realize I may not get over this feeling. And that feeling is so deeply painful that I’m not sure I can live in any more. I’m at a lost for what to do about it. I scare myself; I consider things that I never in my wildest nightmares considered. The things I’ve started investigating. You wouldn’t believe it. I barely believe it myself. But sadly I know it to be true. I shock myself even. I‘m afraid to tell anyone. I don’t know how to get help. Where do I go how do I call? Who do I call? Help isn’t there in the way I need it. Me me me me scarred scared solitude.
I was starved. I was starved of attention. I lived in solitude. Because you’re selfish. But that was better then this. I’m a masochistic. That was better than this. Now I’m alone. You act so holy (you miserable slump) but the sad truth is you have no real love to give even though I tried to find it in you. You miserable slump. You are untrustworthy and have no feelings of any significance. Even though I tired to solicit them out of you. And to develop you into some (and I put myself on the shelf) who could actually make the world a more beautiful place. Because you are so lovely. I love you. And I loved you. But truly all you have to share is a stupid hat imported from china that you think looks good on your huge head. Too bad your head is the biggest part of your tiny little body, it is definitely not your penis. Rising sun?! ha ha. I wanted to wrap my long lovely legs around your body, because I loved you wholeheartedly. I overlooked all that you had lacking physically, actually I never overlooked; I never even saw any flaws in you. Never. I thought you were so incredibly handsome, intoxicating. I was intoxicated by it. I was enamored with you. I was in love. That’s what it was. Love. But you would really have none of it, but I didn’t fight you on us not communicated because I’m nice and don’t nag. But mostly because you totally suck in bed and have no idea how to please a women at all. Nor do you even try your self-centered tiny little prick. The fact that you wouldn’t even try for some reason makes me feel like the shitty one. Like I’m not deserving a few minutes of attention paid to me. You self centered slump. You can only please yourself…which took about 40 seconds even if I was asking you to not (yet again) come yet. You’ve left my totally high and dry. I’m straggling. Every day is a struggle. I’ve been dooped. Dooped. I’m stared for love. For someone to hold me. And let me feel alive in their arms. I’m alive
I can’t even say I cried myself to sleep tonight. I cried. But never found sleep. My pillow was too wet to lay my head in comfortably and i grew thirsty. So here I am. Writing alternate endings to blogs I fantasize about publishing. And crying and running out of tissue. Wtf. Yes it is 5 am. I don’t know how to sleep anymore. I don’t know who to love and I don’t know how to sleep. The only thing I know who to do is bitch. And I know a ton about vintage clothing, and can write an entire lecture about it and organize an entire event around it, not bad if I do say so myself, and I’m a fucking amazing dancer.. Crap so are you. And now I have no one to dance with so fuck that trait. I have nice long legs, and am a kind soul, and have high cheek bones, and can create an amazing outfit out of what is essentially someone’s unwanted stuff from goodwill that will look couture when I’m done with it. Oh and I can make amazing omelets, and soufflé even when faced with the crappiest oven ever (thanks again jackass you self centered prick wanted a cute oven?! wtf?! And I didn’t argue with you because I wanted you to be happy and your were paying for it so what the hell could I do, except deal with it), and fondue, and bake bread so here’s my edits to my previously bread post.
8) Bake for half an hour. ……(alternate ENDING 1)
While your irony bread goes about its business of baking and driving you mad with its wonderfully warming and intoxicating aroma, remember that once you shared an intoxicating love that was trusting and childlike and warm, think about all the ways you want to eat your irony bread. Remember ing that you once did trusted, you once loved, and you trusted him someone with your heart, you believed he would not harm it, not hurt, not destroy it leaving it completely unusable. You’ll tear the bread apart, piece by piece. Ravishing it with crumbs flying. OR slow down and eat it slowly acknowledging that both good bread and a renewed sense of trust take time to rise into beauty, and required a gentle gentile hand; a hand that takes the time to kneed it and need it. And that both home made bread and a renewed heart taste better and are more satisfying when the recipe and the ingredients are developed, and fine-tuned through trail and error and a sense of care and winder and understanding. The recipe will evolve. . Understand, and try not to be bitter, especially since you cried salty tears into your bread, that there is trial and error in all bread making and relationships. Develop an understanding of how bread is made with the different ingredients. Oat flour requires a cooler water and less salt (in the wombs) then wheat flour: my recipe is given a chance fine tune. Mistakes, changes in recipes are made. But redo the recipe, try again, change the measured amounts, change the science behind it, try again, communicate, with each attempt the broken heart is mended and the bread tastes even better.
9) Take bread out. Eat your bread. Enjoy. Relish your efforts. That you can make something alone, something primitive, something organic. You can make something life sustaining with your own two hands. That your old boyfriend wouldn’t think is important. Even if your arms are sore from needing, kneading, and trying. Acknowledge your feelings. Savor the bread, the fresh bread you cried into and kneaded until your muscles grew sore; you needed. Savor the love you needed, savor that you did have something your craved. Savor its humbleness. Savor its whimsy. Stretch it out. Make it last. Cover it in butter that melts warmed against fresh new bread. Savor that this doesn’t happen often. Appreciate that it is rare in life to find such beauty. Appreciate it is rare bread is made so fresh and appreciate that it’s rare you find something so simple and easy to be around. Something you can just sit and be still with. Something gentle. Something kind. I mean it’s rare you make your own bread.
8) Bake for half an hour. ……(alternate ENDING 2, a better ending, and a lie)
While your irony bread goes about its business of baking and driving you mad with its wonderfully warming and intoxicating aroma, your new boy toy drives you insane with his wonderfully warming and intoxicating pheromones, think about all the ways you want to eat your bread... and new boy toy. Tearing it apart, piece by piece. Ravishing it, him... with crumbs flying. Or eat the bread slowly, acknowledging that both good bread, a healed heart, and new relationships take time to rise into beauty, require a slow gentle hand, that takes the time to knead it and need it and both taste better and are more satisfying when given time to rise and develop. Your new boytoy will know this, and be able to tell you so.
9) Take bread out. Eat your bread. Enjoy. Relish your new boy toy and new feelings. I mean bread…. Savor. Savor its humbleness. Savor its whimsy. Stretch it out. Make it last. Cover it in butter that melts warmed against fresh new bread. Savor that this doesn’t happen often. Appreciate that it is rare in life to find such beauty. I mean bread. Appreciate it is rare you make bread and appreciate that it’s rare you find something so simple and easy to be around. Something you can just sit and be still with. Something gentle. Something kind. I mean it’s rare you make your own bread.
I’m struggling. In a deep pain. I’m so devastated to not have you in my life. I loved you deeply truly and honestly, whole and with my entirety. I wanted to talk with you I wanted to be there for you as you developed into whatever you become. I admit I lost myself some, much, but I was trying to support you. NO I wasn’t there to support you financially, but I tried in the ways I knew how. I wanted to develop these further with you. I wanted to talk with you, but you didn’t ever talk back and I wasn’t the pushy type to make you do it. And now you hold that against me. Real nice jackass. But I struggle. I want you in my life. I don’t want to live without you.
I’m scarred. I trusted you to not let me go. To not to cast me aside. I trusted you with my heart. I thought you would always be there for me. I can no longer trust. I have no love left. None to give. None to give to my friends, none to give to my family, none to give to anyone new. You f7cking stole it all, and used it up, and tore it apart, you useless greedy slug. I can no longer love. You didn’t care for me with a lovely gentile hand. I trusted you use care for me with a gentile hand. To treat my heart with care. I can no longer touch anyone without feeling hallow. I have become untrusting. I use to trust. You f8cking stole it from me. I use to trust. I use to love. You fucking stole it from me you useless piece of shiiit. I was used and unloved when I wanted to be loved and I loved back honestly. I’m scarred.
I’m scared. I’m scared because I’ve come to realize I may not get over this feeling. And that feeling is so deeply painful that I’m not sure I can live in any more. I’m at a lost for what to do about it. I scare myself; I consider things that I never in my wildest nightmares considered. The things I’ve started investigating. You wouldn’t believe it. I barely believe it myself. But sadly I know it to be true. I shock myself even. I‘m afraid to tell anyone. I don’t know how to get help. Where do I go how do I call? Who do I call? Help isn’t there in the way I need it. Me me me me scarred scared solitude.
I was starved. I was starved of attention. I lived in solitude. Because you’re selfish. But that was better then this. I’m a masochistic. That was better than this. Now I’m alone. You act so holy (you miserable slump) but the sad truth is you have no real love to give even though I tried to find it in you. You miserable slump. You are untrustworthy and have no feelings of any significance. Even though I tired to solicit them out of you. And to develop you into some (and I put myself on the shelf) who could actually make the world a more beautiful place. Because you are so lovely. I love you. And I loved you. But truly all you have to share is a stupid hat imported from china that you think looks good on your huge head. Too bad your head is the biggest part of your tiny little body, it is definitely not your penis. Rising sun?! ha ha. I wanted to wrap my long lovely legs around your body, because I loved you wholeheartedly. I overlooked all that you had lacking physically, actually I never overlooked; I never even saw any flaws in you. Never. I thought you were so incredibly handsome, intoxicating. I was intoxicated by it. I was enamored with you. I was in love. That’s what it was. Love. But you would really have none of it, but I didn’t fight you on us not communicated because I’m nice and don’t nag. But mostly because you totally suck in bed and have no idea how to please a women at all. Nor do you even try your self-centered tiny little prick. The fact that you wouldn’t even try for some reason makes me feel like the shitty one. Like I’m not deserving a few minutes of attention paid to me. You self centered slump. You can only please yourself…which took about 40 seconds even if I was asking you to not (yet again) come yet. You’ve left my totally high and dry. I’m straggling. Every day is a struggle. I’ve been dooped. Dooped. I’m stared for love. For someone to hold me. And let me feel alive in their arms. I’m alive
I can’t even say I cried myself to sleep tonight. I cried. But never found sleep. My pillow was too wet to lay my head in comfortably and i grew thirsty. So here I am. Writing alternate endings to blogs I fantasize about publishing. And crying and running out of tissue. Wtf. Yes it is 5 am. I don’t know how to sleep anymore. I don’t know who to love and I don’t know how to sleep. The only thing I know who to do is bitch. And I know a ton about vintage clothing, and can write an entire lecture about it and organize an entire event around it, not bad if I do say so myself, and I’m a fucking amazing dancer.. Crap so are you. And now I have no one to dance with so fuck that trait. I have nice long legs, and am a kind soul, and have high cheek bones, and can create an amazing outfit out of what is essentially someone’s unwanted stuff from goodwill that will look couture when I’m done with it. Oh and I can make amazing omelets, and soufflé even when faced with the crappiest oven ever (thanks again jackass you self centered prick wanted a cute oven?! wtf?! And I didn’t argue with you because I wanted you to be happy and your were paying for it so what the hell could I do, except deal with it), and fondue, and bake bread so here’s my edits to my previously bread post.
8) Bake for half an hour. ……(alternate ENDING 1)
While your irony bread goes about its business of baking and driving you mad with its wonderfully warming and intoxicating aroma, remember that once you shared an intoxicating love that was trusting and childlike and warm, think about all the ways you want to eat your irony bread. Remember ing that you once did trusted, you once loved, and you trusted him someone with your heart, you believed he would not harm it, not hurt, not destroy it leaving it completely unusable. You’ll tear the bread apart, piece by piece. Ravishing it with crumbs flying. OR slow down and eat it slowly acknowledging that both good bread and a renewed sense of trust take time to rise into beauty, and required a gentle gentile hand; a hand that takes the time to kneed it and need it. And that both home made bread and a renewed heart taste better and are more satisfying when the recipe and the ingredients are developed, and fine-tuned through trail and error and a sense of care and winder and understanding. The recipe will evolve. . Understand, and try not to be bitter, especially since you cried salty tears into your bread, that there is trial and error in all bread making and relationships. Develop an understanding of how bread is made with the different ingredients. Oat flour requires a cooler water and less salt (in the wombs) then wheat flour: my recipe is given a chance fine tune. Mistakes, changes in recipes are made. But redo the recipe, try again, change the measured amounts, change the science behind it, try again, communicate, with each attempt the broken heart is mended and the bread tastes even better.
9) Take bread out. Eat your bread. Enjoy. Relish your efforts. That you can make something alone, something primitive, something organic. You can make something life sustaining with your own two hands. That your old boyfriend wouldn’t think is important. Even if your arms are sore from needing, kneading, and trying. Acknowledge your feelings. Savor the bread, the fresh bread you cried into and kneaded until your muscles grew sore; you needed. Savor the love you needed, savor that you did have something your craved. Savor its humbleness. Savor its whimsy. Stretch it out. Make it last. Cover it in butter that melts warmed against fresh new bread. Savor that this doesn’t happen often. Appreciate that it is rare in life to find such beauty. Appreciate it is rare bread is made so fresh and appreciate that it’s rare you find something so simple and easy to be around. Something you can just sit and be still with. Something gentle. Something kind. I mean it’s rare you make your own bread.
8) Bake for half an hour. ……(alternate ENDING 2, a better ending, and a lie)
While your irony bread goes about its business of baking and driving you mad with its wonderfully warming and intoxicating aroma, your new boy toy drives you insane with his wonderfully warming and intoxicating pheromones, think about all the ways you want to eat your bread... and new boy toy. Tearing it apart, piece by piece. Ravishing it, him... with crumbs flying. Or eat the bread slowly, acknowledging that both good bread, a healed heart, and new relationships take time to rise into beauty, require a slow gentle hand, that takes the time to knead it and need it and both taste better and are more satisfying when given time to rise and develop. Your new boytoy will know this, and be able to tell you so.
9) Take bread out. Eat your bread. Enjoy. Relish your new boy toy and new feelings. I mean bread…. Savor. Savor its humbleness. Savor its whimsy. Stretch it out. Make it last. Cover it in butter that melts warmed against fresh new bread. Savor that this doesn’t happen often. Appreciate that it is rare in life to find such beauty. I mean bread. Appreciate it is rare you make bread and appreciate that it’s rare you find something so simple and easy to be around. Something you can just sit and be still with. Something gentle. Something kind. I mean it’s rare you make your own bread.
Wednesday, June 17
What I Learned Last Night: Want and Need are 2 different Things Or How to Quit Smoking
What I Learned Last Night:
Want and Need are Two Different Things
or
How to Quit Smoking
Smoking if fun. Smoking Chef is fun. But you’re NOT addicted. Why?? Smoking isn’t it suppose to be addictive? Aren’t cigarettes manufactured to be addictive? Your smoking chef might have fallen into that category But you’ve began to learn that although being around smoking chef is nice, you realize that he might not be able to give you what you want. Although want and need are two different things. You want that damn chef and that cigarette, but, man-o-man you don’t need either one. Aren’t men, aren’t they manufactured to be addictive?. All the evidence says Manufactured to be addictive, smoking chef and cigarettes and other tobacco products are often difficult to eliminate from your life once the addiction is established. But, the reasons to quit are so many in number that few smokers haven't tried to quit. It's possible to quit successfully with a few well-supported steps.
Step 1) Keep yourself occupied at all times. Play a sport, work on your hobbies, or go to restaurants where smoking is not allowed. A restaurant or somewhere you know (your ex) and your smoking chef will not go. Especially one called Buckley’s where your Jazz musician friends are playing! Remember that like your smoking chef, the smoking cravings do not last that long. Besides, jazz music makes you happy. And you’re kinda into that drummer. But I think that drummer is married. Anyway, back to quitting smoking and smoking chef.
Step 2) Ask yourself why you need to quit smoking.
But Want and Need are two different things. You want your smoking chef (errrmmmm…. and admittedly your ex) to love you the way you want to be loved. But you know it aint gonna happen. You can’t communicate. He doesn’t talk to you. But he’s talented. And you respect him. You can sit still with him. You want to make this into something. Your smoking chef just can’t love you the way you want to be loved.
1) Working on this blog post… to be continued
2) I’ve been tasteful and appropriate
3) I have to start writing things down.
4) I have to start drinking heavily.
5) Smoking is fun.
6) Dead women walking
7) Love glove dove. Love is like a dove shove glove. Wait none of that works.
Want and Need are Two Different Things
or
How to Quit Smoking
Smoking if fun. Smoking Chef is fun. But you’re NOT addicted. Why?? Smoking isn’t it suppose to be addictive? Aren’t cigarettes manufactured to be addictive? Your smoking chef might have fallen into that category But you’ve began to learn that although being around smoking chef is nice, you realize that he might not be able to give you what you want. Although want and need are two different things. You want that damn chef and that cigarette, but, man-o-man you don’t need either one. Aren’t men, aren’t they manufactured to be addictive?. All the evidence says Manufactured to be addictive, smoking chef and cigarettes and other tobacco products are often difficult to eliminate from your life once the addiction is established. But, the reasons to quit are so many in number that few smokers haven't tried to quit. It's possible to quit successfully with a few well-supported steps.
Step 1) Keep yourself occupied at all times. Play a sport, work on your hobbies, or go to restaurants where smoking is not allowed. A restaurant or somewhere you know (your ex) and your smoking chef will not go. Especially one called Buckley’s where your Jazz musician friends are playing! Remember that like your smoking chef, the smoking cravings do not last that long. Besides, jazz music makes you happy. And you’re kinda into that drummer. But I think that drummer is married. Anyway, back to quitting smoking and smoking chef.
Step 2) Ask yourself why you need to quit smoking.
But Want and Need are two different things. You want your smoking chef (errrmmmm…. and admittedly your ex) to love you the way you want to be loved. But you know it aint gonna happen. You can’t communicate. He doesn’t talk to you. But he’s talented. And you respect him. You can sit still with him. You want to make this into something. Your smoking chef just can’t love you the way you want to be loved.
1) Working on this blog post… to be continued
2) I’ve been tasteful and appropriate
3) I have to start writing things down.
4) I have to start drinking heavily.
5) Smoking is fun.
6) Dead women walking
7) Love glove dove. Love is like a dove shove glove. Wait none of that works.
Friday, May 1
What I Learned Last Night: Learning to Trust Your Gut and Develop a Meaningful Scarf Collection and Caring for an Orchid
Learning to Trust Your Gut: Recognizing Something is AmissOrHow to Build a Scarf CollectionOrLearning to Care an OrchidIn 12 easy steps:Step 1) When your Smoking Chef brings you out with his friends but fails to introduce you around or sit next to you, this makes you feel badly. But you choose to overlook it and be accepting of him – I mean – he’s just a guy who doesn’t know what to do with this chick in too much red lipstick and ridiculously high heels, and yet another scarf, right? Well girlfriend, lemme tell you – you should trust your gut analysis of this situation because something is amiss… The following is what I’ learned last night: Learning to Trust your Gut, Start a meaningful scarf collection, and Learn to Care for an OrchidStep 2) Over the past 3 or so months you’ve developed a lovely “friend”ship, or some type of “____ship” with your "Smoking chef’… You like him. You want to trust him. You appreciate that you can sit still with him. He's kind. funny. caring. awkward in an endearing way. and he does "it" for you. But you have reservations, you remain unsure about him really. ummmm..???. You've developed some kind of currently undefined "____ ship" with Smoking chef.... You have also developed a "____ ship" within his circle of friends. With his friend “Pink &Red Scarf”. Who is in Smoking Chef’s circle of friends, and who is female... And lovely. You like her lots. And you’ve spoken endlessly with Pink&Red Scarf about Smoking chef…. I mean like…lots… We're talkin' details here peeps. details.I’ll note now that you have many many scarves, you love scarves. You collect them. And you do best at collecting them from those you love or those you feel nostalgia for, or want to pay homage to or celebrate in some way: your aunt who “ Has had this one since high school”, and your mother who “I got this in Italy. It’s the Crest of that Italian village. Here’, have the orange one too.”, and all those little vintage shops you love to roam through, usually finding that scarf in a small pile hidden in a shop dresser drawer. You’ve got dozen and dozens of scarves. In nearly every color combo. But! But only one Pink &Red one. Only one. And she gave it to you. You think this is saying something lovely. And saying something bittersweet. Not to mention, she got it for you while she was traveling foreign countries and brought it all the way back. This is “friend”ship I believe.Step 3) You don’t know yet what kind of “ship” it is you have with Smoking chef because you’ve been holding back. You know he likes you, although you are not convinced he is the kind of chef that is fully invested. He might prefer his relationship meat undercooked, if you will. He’s not that emotional, and difficult to get to know. But he’s sweet… And hot, atleast to you. well maybe not H-O-T but you are attracted to him, regardless. You are, admit it. And you feel so very comfortable around him. He's someone you can just sit still with... But you discovered last weekend that he can be cold too. You need to get to know him more. You don’t know him well enough to DTR – Define the relationship. Not to say you didn’t want to get to know him better, you just didn’t feel you had enough info to decide if you liked him enough to DTR. I guess this is what they call dating… Or maybe your gut knows that you can not really communicate with smoking chef… So the tag on the front of ________ “ship” is undefined. The difficulty to a bad sign.Step 4) You didn’t need to learn last night that you needed him to be gentle with you. You knew this going in, you needed him to be gentle with you. You wanted to feel special. Like you are different. than the rest.Step 5) Dear Chef,Pink&Red Scarf called me last night and told me about you two. Although I know it was a year ago, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me first? Might have been easier for me to hear from you first. Would have made me feel more important to you. I feel so….temporary….. I’m “Steak to go” Applebee’s curb side pick up steak kind of temporary. Rare. I don’t hold the relationship with Pink&Red Scarf against you, no, no I don’t at all. I certainly understand human circumstance. You two hang out. It's cool. But it seems you may have treated her as temporary. The circumstances of your relationship made her feel temporary. And it turns out youandme smoking chef have the same circumstances....Ugh.... the lack of communication, the lack or future plans, the invitation over to the apt only, the text messages… It's all the same. And now you act like you do not know her.You think this is wrong. It’s just wrong. Same circumstances. And she was temporary. You broke up with her via text. The Sex and the City Post-It equivalent. I don’t want to be temporary. I don’t have casual relationships.Step 6) Are there other Scarves you need to know about? Are there other girls you have already befriended that he is pretending he didn’t sleep with? Just checkin’ cuz, besides retaining prom dresses from the 80’s, collecting vintage scarves, and finding vintage fur coats at goodwill (quite a find I will note – totally awesome!), and dancing the tango and lindy hop, what you do best is Obtaining Girlfriends! And you've not no interest in being Smoking Chef’s Girlfriends Club founding member, especially when you didn’t know you were nominating yourself. Jesus. Honestly!?!You do have a strange sense of respect and appreciation for Pink&Red scarf honestly though. You recognize it must have been a difficult can o' worms. But You'd rather know. And Pink Scarf knows this.He let you become friends with someone he had been fucking. Again you don't hold the basic humanness of this against either of them, but letting you become friends without all the information is just wrong. Especially for someone as emotional fragile as you. And you recognize this letting you become friends with her and not dealing with it as, yes... saying it with me: the easy way out... It's just secretive. You want to trust him. You wanted to trust him desperately.Step 7) You feel so so so fuckin stupid. I mean you told pink & red scarf way way too much about smoking chef. Gawd. How embarrassing.Step 8) Dear Chef, I emotionally invested in you. You’ve acted the same way with her as me. I am on the border of trusting you. And believe-you-me, I have been crushed. Shattered. Broken. Humbled. And appalled. But I feel like a fool for not knowing. I feel like a fool for not seeing it. I shuld have. 20/20 hindsight yadda yadda. Knowing that you were ok with me finding out makes me feel like you do not care.Step 9) Your smoking chef not telling you about the Smoking Pink Scarf Combo Meal (this is funny chuckle chuckle) might only be because Smoking Chef didn’t think it was a big deal. And it’s not a big deal. This you recognize. But it speaks volumes to how he might feel about you: Therefore you are not a big deal to smoking chef. He let you befriend Pink & Red scarf. If Pink &Red scarf wasn’t a big deal, then neither are you girlfriend! Yeah, your gut is sick. To much steak. You were once a vegetarian btw.Step 10) Suddenly remembering your conversation with Sugar about him not being that into you. And trusting your gut…Another side – ahhhhh you should take up tango dancing once again. Bad relationships lend themselves well to tragic tango dancers, the way all good tango dancers (who take themselves too seriously) are.Step 11) Too bad you lost your black and white scarf last weekend. Needs replacing. But the orchid Smoking Chef gave you for your birthday back in February is still in full bloom. You want to learn to care for it. I hear orchids are difficult to tend to, care for. Difficult to get to bloom again. You have to snip and trim just at the right time: when the last flower blooms, cut the next flower spike halfway down the stem. A possible rebloom will occur if you continue caring for your orchid.Step 12) ONE EXTRA, VERY IMPORTANT STEP!!!you haven’t slept with Smoking Chef.How do you feel now? Pretty good..for trusting your gut!!!You didn’t because your gut was telling you something was amiss.What I leaned last night:Trust your gut.Maybe don't wear that pink&red scarf for a little while.Take up being a holier than thou vegetarian again for a little while, or atleast no more red meat.
What I Learned Last Night: Learning to Trust Your Gut and Develop a Meaningful Scarf Collection and Caring for an Orchid
Learning to Trust Your Gut: Recognizing Something is AmissOrHow to Build a Scarf CollectionOrLearning to Care an OrchidIn 12 easy steps:Step 1) When your Smoking Chef brings you out with his friends but fails to introduce you around or sit next to you, this makes you feel badly. But you choose to overlook it and be accepting of him – I mean – he’s just a guy who doesn’t know what to do with this chick in too much red lipstick and ridiculously high heels, and yet another scarf, right? Well girlfriend, lemme tell you – you should trust your gut analysis of this situation because something is amiss… The following is what I’ learned last night: Learning to Trust your Gut, Start a meaningful scarf collection, and Learn to Care for an OrchidStep 2) Over the past 3 or so months you’ve developed a lovely “friend”ship, or some type of “____ship” with your "Smoking chef’… You like him. You want to trust him. You appreciate that you can sit still with him. He's kind. funny. caring. awkward in an endearing way. and he does "it" for you. But you have reservations, you remain unsure about him really. ummmm..???. You've developed some kind of currently undefined "____ ship" with Smoking chef.... You have also developed a "____ ship" within his circle of friends. With his friend “Pink &Red Scarf”. Who is in Smoking Chef’s circle of friends, and who is female... And lovely. You like her lots. And you’ve spoken endlessly with Pink&Red Scarf about Smoking chef…. I mean like…lots… We're talkin' details here peeps. details.I’ll note now that you have many many scarves, you love scarves. You collect them. And you do best at collecting them from those you love or those you feel nostalgia for, or want to pay homage to or celebrate in some way: your aunt who “ Has had this one since high school”, and your mother who “I got this in Italy. It’s the Crest of that Italian village. Here’, have the orange one too.”, and all those little vintage shops you love to roam through, usually finding that scarf in a small pile hidden in a shop dresser drawer. You’ve got dozen and dozens of scarves. In nearly every color combo. But! But only one Pink &Red one. Only one. And she gave it to you. You think this is saying something lovely. And saying something bittersweet. Not to mention, she got it for you while she was traveling foreign countries and brought it all the way back. This is “friend”ship I believe.Step 3) You don’t know yet what kind of “ship” it is you have with Smoking chef because you’ve been holding back. You know he likes you, although you are not convinced he is the kind of chef that is fully invested. He might prefer his relationship meat undercooked, if you will. He’s not that emotional, and difficult to get to know. But he’s sweet… And hot, atleast to you. well maybe not H-O-T but you are attracted to him, regardless. You are, admit it. And you feel so very comfortable around him. He's someone you can just sit still with... But you discovered last weekend that he can be cold too. You need to get to know him more. You don’t know him well enough to DTR – Define the relationship. Not to say you didn’t want to get to know him better, you just didn’t feel you had enough info to decide if you liked him enough to DTR. I guess this is what they call dating… Or maybe your gut knows that you can not really communicate with smoking chef… So the tag on the front of ________ “ship” is undefined. The difficulty to a bad sign.Step 4) You didn’t need to learn last night that you needed him to be gentle with you. You knew this going in, you needed him to be gentle with you. You wanted to feel special. Like you are different. than the rest.Step 5) Dear Chef,Pink&Red Scarf called me last night and told me about you two. Although I know it was a year ago, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me first? Might have been easier for me to hear from you first. Would have made me feel more important to you. I feel so….temporary….. I’m “Steak to go” Applebee’s curb side pick up steak kind of temporary. Rare. I don’t hold the relationship with Pink&Red Scarf against you, no, no I don’t at all. I certainly understand human circumstance. You two hang out. It's cool. But it seems you may have treated her as temporary. The circumstances of your relationship made her feel temporary. And it turns out youandme smoking chef have the same circumstances....Ugh.... the lack of communication, the lack or future plans, the invitation over to the apt only, the text messages… It's all the same. And now you act like you do not know her.You think this is wrong. It’s just wrong. Same circumstances. And she was temporary. You broke up with her via text. The Sex and the City Post-It equivalent. I don’t want to be temporary. I don’t have casual relationships.Step 6) Are there other Scarves you need to know about? Are there other girls you have already befriended that he is pretending he didn’t sleep with? Just checkin’ cuz, besides retaining prom dresses from the 80’s, collecting vintage scarves, and finding vintage fur coats at goodwill (quite a find I will note – totally awesome!), and dancing the tango and lindy hop, what you do best is Obtaining Girlfriends! And you've not no interest in being Smoking Chef’s Girlfriends Club founding member, especially when you didn’t know you were nominating yourself. Jesus. Honestly!?!You do have a strange sense of respect and appreciation for Pink&Red scarf honestly though. You recognize it must have been a difficult can o' worms. But You'd rather know. And Pink Scarf knows this.He let you become friends with someone he had been fucking. Again you don't hold the basic humanness of this against either of them, but letting you become friends without all the information is just wrong. Especially for someone as emotional fragile as you. And you recognize this letting you become friends with her and not dealing with it as, yes... saying it with me: the easy way out... It's just secretive. You want to trust him. You wanted to trust him desperately.Step 7) You feel so so so fuckin stupid. I mean you told pink & red scarf way way too much about smoking chef. Gawd. How embarrassing.Step 8) Dear Chef, I emotionally invested in you. You’ve acted the same way with her as me. I am on the border of trusting you. And believe-you-me, I have been crushed. Shattered. Broken. Humbled. And appalled. But I feel like a fool for not knowing. I feel like a fool for not seeing it. I shuld have. 20/20 hindsight yadda yadda. Knowing that you were ok with me finding out makes me feel like you do not care.Step 9) Your smoking chef not telling you about the Smoking Pink Scarf Combo Meal (this is funny chuckle chuckle) might only be because Smoking Chef didn’t think it was a big deal. And it’s not a big deal. This you recognize. But it speaks volumes to how he might feel about you: Therefore you are not a big deal to smoking chef. He let you befriend Pink & Red scarf. If Pink &Red scarf wasn’t a big deal, then neither are you girlfriend! Yeah, your gut is sick. To much steak. You were once a vegetarian btw.Step 10) Suddenly remembering your conversation with Sugar about him not being that into you. And trusting your gut…Another side – ahhhhh you should take up tango dancing once again. Bad relationships lend themselves well to tragic tango dancers, the way all good tango dancers (who take themselves too seriously) are.Step 11) Too bad you lost your black and white scarf last weekend. Needs replacing. But the orchid Smoking Chef gave you for your birthday back in February is still in full bloom. You want to learn to care for it. I hear orchids are difficult to tend to, care for. Difficult to get to bloom again. You have to snip and trim just at the right time: when the last flower blooms, cut the next flower spike halfway down the stem. A possible rebloom will occur if you continue caring for your orchid.Step 12) ONE EXTRA, VERY IMPORTANT STEP!!!you haven’t slept with Smoking Chef.How do you feel now? Pretty good..for trusting your gut!!!You didn’t because your gut was telling you something was amiss.What I leaned last night:Trust your gut.Maybe don't wear that pink&red scarf for a little while.Take up being a holier than thou vegetarian again for a little while, or atleast no more red meat.
Thursday, April 16
What I Learned Last Night: How to become 1980's Prom King and Queen
Believe it or not that bad prom dress you’ve been holding onto since high school for no reason besides nostalgia and memory retention and because your mother sewed it for you (therefore you just couldn’t throw it away), well, believe it or not those will come in handy! If you know the right people, you will be invited to a themed Breast cancer Awareness fundraiser! The Theme? 1980’s prom! Foresure! Bust out that black velvet, lace and polyester satin prom dress and the bad “off like a prom dress jokes” cuz your smoking chef is taking you as his 1980’s prom date. Epic it was.
Naturally such an event is only complete with a proper Prom King and Queen so nominations will happen. With smoking chef chaperoning, naturally you will win. And naturally all evening he will make bad jokes about getting your prom dress off and attempting to get you in the backseat of “his parent’s” car. Given such circumstances, how could you lose? Prom Queen inserts tears of surprise and fake gratitude, “I’d like to thank the academy…”
16 years post high school and many years after it is socially acceptable to don bad 1980’s prom dresses, all promted by attending the worthy cause of a Breast Cancer Awareness Fundraiser Event with a 1980’s Prom theme (I'm way into this. Too much.) the following is what I learned last night:
How to win Prom Queen and King:
1. It’s never to late to become prom king and queen.
2. Even if that dress your mom sewed you for the San Juan High homecoming in 1989 is unbreathably tight today, go ahead and wear it. You might feel light headed due to not taking a deep breath all evening while dancing to Devo and the Smiths and Madonna, but this author promises you won’t regret it.
3. You might also feel light headed from the spiked punch yuor future Prom King Smoking Chef keeps brining you, but yuor intoxicated by his pharmones and his skinny grey 1980's tie.
4. Be sure to go for that 80’s Madonna look embracing the black lace, short skirts and extreme bleach blonde hair and brown roots (if you got ‘em). You will wear it so well.
5. When attending an 1980’s Prom, it is not possible to wear too much blue eyeliner and electric blue eye shadow or pink Wet N Wild lip gloss. Right? Your smoking chef likes your blue eyeshawdow.
6. Take oooon meeee…Take On ME! Take me On!
7. Any bad 1980’s themed party should start with the 80’s basics. This includes but is not limited to the dress your mom made you; a 1980’s velvet strapless sweetheart neckline dress with an asymmetrically cut from hip to thigh sown-in double layer puffy skirt. Four ruched layers of white polyester satin overlayed with ruched black lace. I mean your mom sewed it for you! Such a dress acts as bragging points at the 1980’s party, and thereby secures the win essentially. This is soooo Molly Ringwald-esque. ‘Cept hers was pink and sew by Molly herself not mom.
8. Don’t forget to don those black elbow length gloves. You want the lace ones but shit, you’re fresh out.
9. And bad rhinestone tiera. You aint’ fresh out of that.
10. You’ve been saving those black fishnet nylons with rhinestones seams up the back and tigers on the ankles for this very occasion, and essentially complete your 1989 Madonna themed prom outfit.
10. Next: heels. Pointy toed and spiked. They certainly can not match the rest of the outfit. In this case you have emerald green. You aint’ regretting holding onto those spike heels for Jen now are ya?! Thanks jen. You made my prom night.
11. To win prom king and queen you will need to find yourself a proper date. One who is way into the 1980’s prom theme as well….
This is best done by smoking chef. He’s still at it with you, yes. He’ll don a perfect blazer of gray, thin lapels and a silver and gold lame skinny tie. And he’s cute in it. He wears it so well. And you find that he’ll dance with you all, I mean all, evening, to that 80’s music. And he seems to like it. And he enjoys singing to you and dancing with you. And he doesn’t care. And now you’re really in trouble because….because you like him, like totally. Damn it.
12. All night he’ll make bad 1980’s jokes:
~"Babe, like any good prom dress, that one is gonna end up on my floor." You like his bad jokes. And you like him calling you "babe".
~"Get ready for a walk of shame the tomorrow morning. Babe is off like a prom dress.” You might be willing to do the walk of shame for smoking chef.
~"Can I get you some spiked punch?....Can I get you some more spiked punch?"
~“We are so going to make out on my parent’s couch."
13. When you are officially nominated and win by audience applause because you two wear eachother so well, and I think they might know that you two kinda like, foresure like eachother, be sure the “Thank the Academy.”
14. Set up the ideal photo op: a Pink Balloon arch and silver metallic tissue paper is perfect. Strike staged uncomfortable pose with your smoking chef prom king while you both proudly don your gold tiara and crown and pretend not to be too into one another. And drunk on spiked punch.
Gag me with a spoon
Naturally such an event is only complete with a proper Prom King and Queen so nominations will happen. With smoking chef chaperoning, naturally you will win. And naturally all evening he will make bad jokes about getting your prom dress off and attempting to get you in the backseat of “his parent’s” car. Given such circumstances, how could you lose? Prom Queen inserts tears of surprise and fake gratitude, “I’d like to thank the academy…”
16 years post high school and many years after it is socially acceptable to don bad 1980’s prom dresses, all promted by attending the worthy cause of a Breast Cancer Awareness Fundraiser Event with a 1980’s Prom theme (I'm way into this. Too much.) the following is what I learned last night:
How to win Prom Queen and King:
1. It’s never to late to become prom king and queen.
2. Even if that dress your mom sewed you for the San Juan High homecoming in 1989 is unbreathably tight today, go ahead and wear it. You might feel light headed due to not taking a deep breath all evening while dancing to Devo and the Smiths and Madonna, but this author promises you won’t regret it.
3. You might also feel light headed from the spiked punch yuor future Prom King Smoking Chef keeps brining you, but yuor intoxicated by his pharmones and his skinny grey 1980's tie.
4. Be sure to go for that 80’s Madonna look embracing the black lace, short skirts and extreme bleach blonde hair and brown roots (if you got ‘em). You will wear it so well.
5. When attending an 1980’s Prom, it is not possible to wear too much blue eyeliner and electric blue eye shadow or pink Wet N Wild lip gloss. Right? Your smoking chef likes your blue eyeshawdow.
6. Take oooon meeee…Take On ME! Take me On!
7. Any bad 1980’s themed party should start with the 80’s basics. This includes but is not limited to the dress your mom made you; a 1980’s velvet strapless sweetheart neckline dress with an asymmetrically cut from hip to thigh sown-in double layer puffy skirt. Four ruched layers of white polyester satin overlayed with ruched black lace. I mean your mom sewed it for you! Such a dress acts as bragging points at the 1980’s party, and thereby secures the win essentially. This is soooo Molly Ringwald-esque. ‘Cept hers was pink and sew by Molly herself not mom.
8. Don’t forget to don those black elbow length gloves. You want the lace ones but shit, you’re fresh out.
9. And bad rhinestone tiera. You aint’ fresh out of that.
10. You’ve been saving those black fishnet nylons with rhinestones seams up the back and tigers on the ankles for this very occasion, and essentially complete your 1989 Madonna themed prom outfit.
10. Next: heels. Pointy toed and spiked. They certainly can not match the rest of the outfit. In this case you have emerald green. You aint’ regretting holding onto those spike heels for Jen now are ya?! Thanks jen. You made my prom night.
11. To win prom king and queen you will need to find yourself a proper date. One who is way into the 1980’s prom theme as well….
This is best done by smoking chef. He’s still at it with you, yes. He’ll don a perfect blazer of gray, thin lapels and a silver and gold lame skinny tie. And he’s cute in it. He wears it so well. And you find that he’ll dance with you all, I mean all, evening, to that 80’s music. And he seems to like it. And he enjoys singing to you and dancing with you. And he doesn’t care. And now you’re really in trouble because….because you like him, like totally. Damn it.
12. All night he’ll make bad 1980’s jokes:
~"Babe, like any good prom dress, that one is gonna end up on my floor." You like his bad jokes. And you like him calling you "babe".
~"Get ready for a walk of shame the tomorrow morning. Babe is off like a prom dress.” You might be willing to do the walk of shame for smoking chef.
~"Can I get you some spiked punch?....Can I get you some more spiked punch?"
~“We are so going to make out on my parent’s couch."
13. When you are officially nominated and win by audience applause because you two wear eachother so well, and I think they might know that you two kinda like, foresure like eachother, be sure the “Thank the Academy.”
14. Set up the ideal photo op: a Pink Balloon arch and silver metallic tissue paper is perfect. Strike staged uncomfortable pose with your smoking chef prom king while you both proudly don your gold tiara and crown and pretend not to be too into one another. And drunk on spiked punch.
Gag me with a spoon
What I Learned Last Night. Absinthe and the Green Fairy. April 15, 2009
Absinthe.
The Liquor. The Spirit. A mysteriously green retro elixir, intoxicatingly delicate and flowery, with subtle herb flavors, distinct anise , soft fennel flavors, but don’t trust this Spirit. she fools you, as it’s known to be highly intoxicating, and possibly a hallucinogenic. It’s that wormwood. Also called the Green Fairy. the mystic around absinthe is as intoxicating as its aromas and flavors. Ab..sinnntheee…. Just saying the word has a lovely mouth feel…. The breathy beginning and pursing of the lips “Aaaab…”, pressing the tongue into the teeth for “Sin..” with the ending vibration….Theee…” Ordering is a pleasure.
Absinthe, had been illegal for the past 80 years, but has recently been re-released and rediscovered by the chic chic bar hopper cocktail-ologists and elitist Francophiles, like moi. I’m increasingly enamored and scared of The Green Fairy. Adoringly intoxicated by its flowery anise herby flavors and aromas… Its delicate grasp.. Its numbingly amorous qualities… Its luminescent green velvety milkie opalescence.. Its vintage prohibition bohemian lifestyle and mystic… Its Parisian underground Moulin Rouge Impressionist-painter-writer-thinker feel. The wormwood hallucinogenic murderous tales. Its ritualistic preparation: the slotted spoon, the beautiful silver and crystal spigoted fountain, the vintage crystal parfait glass. Icy and sweetened with a sugar cube. I like that it was introduced to me long before I knew the tale of what I was drinking.
The Absinthe experience summed up by viewing the Impressionist painting "The Absinthe Drinker" by Viktor Oliva (1861-1928). I see you green fairy, perched siren beckoning. Masochistic Lorraine’s new numbingly sadistic green fairy friend in that Miss Cottington's Pressed Fairy (you know that book?) kind of way: mesmerizing, enchanting, enticing, but aloof, seductive, and untrustworthy
Twice the proof, twice the strength of most other spirits, absinthe was the liquor of choice in for the 19th-century Parisian artists, intellectuals, free thinkers, and the literary set. Devotees of the Green Fairy are said to include Oscar Wilde, Ernest Hemingway, Pablo Picasso of course, Artur Rimbaud, Paul Verlaine, Charles Baudelaire, and ol' Van Gogh, who’s ear lopping incident has been attributed to an over indulgence in absinthe. Heartbreak hotel. Blame it on the wormwwod. Or his artistry.
My introduction to the green fairy began at a handsome marine biologist’s Belltown apartment. It was December 2006. Becky, Brenda and I. And he was a handsome franchophile too. Well, he became a computer programmer, which is not half as much fun, but, that's neither here nor there. In my mind he will always be a Francophile marine biologist and my nostalgic introduction to the boheim and mystic that is Absinthe. Maybe we should have had wormwood induced something.
What I Learned Last Night: How To Serve Absinthe, a ritualistic Preparation
1. Absinthe is properly served with ritualistic preparation, a ritual that will fill you with anticipation and set you in the right melancholy and amorous mood. This absinthe ritual is as important as the actual drinking.
2. To serve absinthe you will need:
~A fancy crystal glass. This glass must be clear, uncolored to best appreciate what will become a foreboding but luminescent green velvety milkie opalescent elixir. The best glass would be vintage cut crystal, as this will illicit the right prohibition vibe for appreciating this mystic aperitif. Yes, a cut crystal glass with a wide brim and a textured stem that you can run your long cocktailed ringed fingers against; as I have a feeling absinthe drinkers are tactile types.
~A special perforated silver spoon. The more 1920's filigree style the better.
~And if you are truly an absinthe fan you should have the spigoted fountain
~Iced water
~A single cube of fine sugar
~ a melancholy and mysterious aura about you.
3. Fill your textured stem vintage vibe glass 1/5 the way up with absinthe pouring the herbaceous bright green liquor directly from the bottle, taking in the anise aroma right away.
4. Place the slotted spoon on top of the glass and the lump of sugar on top of the spoon. Slowly pour cold water over the sugar. This will dissolve the sugar into the absinthe, creating a luminescent green velvety milkie opalescent intoxicating cocktail. A proper pour is 1 part absinthe to 5 parts water – not to be drank neat.
5. Breath in its herbal, black licorice aromatics.
6. Sip. Tasting its gentle flowery anise herby flavors
7. And I like em at the Tin Table at the Century ballroom.
8. I like 'em at Gainsbourge Bar and Bistro in Greenlake, a lovely absinthe selection and all day happy hour on Mondays. That's a lovely find of a Francophile bar. Stop by on Sundays and Mondays for personal attention from Otis. Oogle pictures of the pretty french wives of Surge Gainbsourge on the wall.
9. I like em at Liberty when meeting your dear friend Brenda and dispelling truths and falsities about men.
9. But most of all I like absinthe while slowly swing dancing.
10. Ernest Hemingway’s "Death in the Afternoon" cocktail: Pour one part Absinthe into a crystal Champagne glass. Slowly drizzle chilled Champagne into absinthe until it attains the proper opalescent milkiness. Drink three to five of these slowly. Greet your green fairy. She'll help you write.
Monday, March 30
What I Learned Last Night. Chicks Like Rosé Wine.
12 Occasions to drink Rosé and defy the Wine snobs:
~1. To get non-wine drinkers into wine
~2. To get soda drinkers off the corn syrup and onto something real.
~3. When she's having fish and he's having red meat.
~4. On warm summer evenings. In your California backyard. With your high school boyfriend Matt.
~5. With grilled cheese sandwiches, or hamburgers, or pork dishes.
~6. When you feel like putting ice cubes in your wine.
~7. On Valentine’s Day.
~8. During a Burlesque show.
~9. When red wine seems too heavy. Like at La Gourmond restaurant on your birthday with your parents, brenda dear, and smoking chef who is probably nervous because he's out with your parents.
~10.With your chickie girlfriends. Especially Madeline and Christine and Brenda and probably Jen and Casey and Sarah and Alyssa, and your best high school girlfriend Kristin and her mother, who love to have a good time no matter what.
~11. When you are male, and you want to get your chickie, Mustang Sally-type, girlfriend drunk and maybe try to get some.
~12. Especially when smoking pot at Christine’s house... last night...eating Beechers Flagship Cheese. And doing a sing along. Ride Sally Ride.
What I learned Last Night. A commentary on Pink Wine and the Chicks who Like'em.
1. Girls like Rosé wine. We girls admit it. I admit it. Yes, a pink wine. Chicks like it. Especially Mustang Sally type chicks. Pink wine tastes good damn it. Madeline says so. My foodie friend Christine admits to it. Even my friend Brenda, who has a fab wine palate, likes it. And so do I! Dry or sweet. It’s just fun. It's crisp and acidic. It's fruity, like strawberries and grapefruit. It's thirst quenching. It only has like 120 calories a glass. It’s all good. French or California. Rosé , Blush, or “White Zin”. It’s usually pretty good. Umm, there are exceptions. But we will pretend the expectations do not exist. Rosé wines: Nothin but fun. And Girls just wanna have fun.
2. Beginner wine drinker chicks (has to be a chick specifically) will like the California ones the best, especially the White Zin pink stuff. I'm getting around to telling you more about this.
3. The Rosé wine experience is heighten when paired with the sun brightly shining. In your California backyard. Grilling. With family, with friends. Summer time…. Ahh nostalgia… With your old boyfriend Matt, who loved you silly and thought you were beautiful. And for you two the world was your oyster. The Rosé makes you feel the zeal for life and and the simplicity of young love and like you don’t have a care in the world or that anything has to be done today. It can all be done tomorrow. No urgency with Rose, no Carpe Diem. Instead: Savor the Rosé moment while it lasts….
4. A good Rosé will defy the wine snobs. The pretentious palate will zeal over the Rosé too. Especially those dry French grenache rosés.
5. Rosé wines are… well, they’re pink. They can be called “Rosé ”, “Blush”, or when made specifically from Zinfandel grapes, they are called “White Zinfandel" or “White Zin”. Side note: Zinfandle grapes make loucious wines, both red and "white". omg yes!) This is Lorraine's personal Fav of the Rosés and the Reds. A pinkie, fairly sweet wine. This is why chicks like ‘em. But some Rosé, usually the ones from France are dry, meaning not sweet. There’s your wine terminology for the day. You’ll know it’s French when the label is written in French. And has words like Château or Cote d’Or or Vin de Pays written across it. It’s not difficult.
6. So how are they pink?! What are they made from!? Here’s the deal with Rosé wines ya’ll. A little wine tech speak comin’ at you: Rosé wines are made from Red Grapes. Wine gets its color from the grape's skin. To get Rosé, the red grape skins are taken out of the vat before the wine gets too red. This also early removal of the skins also affects the taste, in a yummy kind of way. The skin is also where the tannin, the bitterwine flavor, comes from. Witht hte early skin removal, Rosé wines absorb very little tannin, so it’s light in flavor, no bitterness, so, yeah, chicks think they taste good. And it’s all good.
7. Rosé can be a single red grape variety or blends of multiple grape varieties (sometimes both red and white grapes). The typical grapes used are Grenache or Zinfandel aka “Zin”. The “White Zin” will be from California. “White Zin”, as anyone who can see will see, is not white, it’s pink. White Zin is sweet. The Grenache ones will usually be from France. These are the more dry Rosés. The Grenaches, whether from France or the USA, will often be blended with other grapes. Most of the American Rosé or Blushes are blends of multiple grapes. White Zin is just the zin grape only though, no blending. Just drink it.
8. Lorraine, moi, who is very much a chick, her favorite Rosé is the White Zin from Beringer winery in Napa Valley. Num! Yes, I admit it. I have a have favorite white zin. And it retails for like a mere $6.99 a bottle. And it’s good. Yes, wine snobs, it’s good. And, to the white zin's cred, is responsible for getting many non-wine drinking chicks to drink wine. And drink too much wine. And therefore probably responsible for many nights of men gettin' some (reproductive success). Beringer is also the wineery credited with making White Zin famous, but also gave it the cheap reputation. But as far as I'm concerned, Thank god for Beringer!! Beringer is like the Disneyland of wineries ya’ll. It's the tourist trap of napa. Which goes perfectly with the White Zin theme moi thinks. And while Beringer White Zin retails these days for a whooping $6.99 a bottle, I remember buying it for $4.99 which makes me feel really old School cool. Cheap! Cheap and good! Just the way I like my wine. But not my men. Someone buy me a bottle immediately. Especially someone who wants me to drink too much wine and subsequently take “advantage of me”.
10. Another good Rosé that really brings back the memories of learning to like wine is the “Fun and Yummy” from Charles Spinetta Winery somewhere in Amador Wine Country in Cali. But don’t bother looking. It now exists as chenin blanc version... Wait...maybe I’m remembering this as white zin and it was chenin blanc, a white white…. Regardless, who cares, it was faboo, so on with story…. I tasted (and bought) it at the winery in like 1997 while being forced, yet again, to wine taste, yet again, with my parents. I drank it at the tasting bar in the Spinetta winery. I liked it. I loved it. Succulent and sweet. Like honeysuckle and candy. It was a defining moment for me. First wine I liked. Haven't complained about wine tasting with my parents since (I'm an ungrateful daughter).
11. Lesson learned: Girlfriends (or even boys - I'll make it a personal goal) who don’t like wine, serve them a Rosé. They’ll drink it and like it. As evidenced by Madeline. And you’ll have a drunken chick on your hands. Excellent…
~1. To get non-wine drinkers into wine
~2. To get soda drinkers off the corn syrup and onto something real.
~3. When she's having fish and he's having red meat.
~4. On warm summer evenings. In your California backyard. With your high school boyfriend Matt.
~5. With grilled cheese sandwiches, or hamburgers, or pork dishes.
~6. When you feel like putting ice cubes in your wine.
~7. On Valentine’s Day.
~8. During a Burlesque show.
~9. When red wine seems too heavy. Like at La Gourmond restaurant on your birthday with your parents, brenda dear, and smoking chef who is probably nervous because he's out with your parents.
~10.With your chickie girlfriends. Especially Madeline and Christine and Brenda and probably Jen and Casey and Sarah and Alyssa, and your best high school girlfriend Kristin and her mother, who love to have a good time no matter what.
~11. When you are male, and you want to get your chickie, Mustang Sally-type, girlfriend drunk and maybe try to get some.
~12. Especially when smoking pot at Christine’s house... last night...eating Beechers Flagship Cheese. And doing a sing along. Ride Sally Ride.
What I learned Last Night. A commentary on Pink Wine and the Chicks who Like'em.
1. Girls like Rosé wine. We girls admit it. I admit it. Yes, a pink wine. Chicks like it. Especially Mustang Sally type chicks. Pink wine tastes good damn it. Madeline says so. My foodie friend Christine admits to it. Even my friend Brenda, who has a fab wine palate, likes it. And so do I! Dry or sweet. It’s just fun. It's crisp and acidic. It's fruity, like strawberries and grapefruit. It's thirst quenching. It only has like 120 calories a glass. It’s all good. French or California. Rosé , Blush, or “White Zin”. It’s usually pretty good. Umm, there are exceptions. But we will pretend the expectations do not exist. Rosé wines: Nothin but fun. And Girls just wanna have fun.
2. Beginner wine drinker chicks (has to be a chick specifically) will like the California ones the best, especially the White Zin pink stuff. I'm getting around to telling you more about this.
3. The Rosé wine experience is heighten when paired with the sun brightly shining. In your California backyard. Grilling. With family, with friends. Summer time…. Ahh nostalgia… With your old boyfriend Matt, who loved you silly and thought you were beautiful. And for you two the world was your oyster. The Rosé makes you feel the zeal for life and and the simplicity of young love and like you don’t have a care in the world or that anything has to be done today. It can all be done tomorrow. No urgency with Rose, no Carpe Diem. Instead: Savor the Rosé moment while it lasts….
4. A good Rosé will defy the wine snobs. The pretentious palate will zeal over the Rosé too. Especially those dry French grenache rosés.
5. Rosé wines are… well, they’re pink. They can be called “Rosé ”, “Blush”, or when made specifically from Zinfandel grapes, they are called “White Zinfandel" or “White Zin”. Side note: Zinfandle grapes make loucious wines, both red and "white". omg yes!) This is Lorraine's personal Fav of the Rosés and the Reds. A pinkie, fairly sweet wine. This is why chicks like ‘em. But some Rosé, usually the ones from France are dry, meaning not sweet. There’s your wine terminology for the day. You’ll know it’s French when the label is written in French. And has words like Château or Cote d’Or or Vin de Pays written across it. It’s not difficult.
6. So how are they pink?! What are they made from!? Here’s the deal with Rosé wines ya’ll. A little wine tech speak comin’ at you: Rosé wines are made from Red Grapes. Wine gets its color from the grape's skin. To get Rosé, the red grape skins are taken out of the vat before the wine gets too red. This also early removal of the skins also affects the taste, in a yummy kind of way. The skin is also where the tannin, the bitterwine flavor, comes from. Witht hte early skin removal, Rosé wines absorb very little tannin, so it’s light in flavor, no bitterness, so, yeah, chicks think they taste good. And it’s all good.
7. Rosé can be a single red grape variety or blends of multiple grape varieties (sometimes both red and white grapes). The typical grapes used are Grenache or Zinfandel aka “Zin”. The “White Zin” will be from California. “White Zin”, as anyone who can see will see, is not white, it’s pink. White Zin is sweet. The Grenache ones will usually be from France. These are the more dry Rosés. The Grenaches, whether from France or the USA, will often be blended with other grapes. Most of the American Rosé or Blushes are blends of multiple grapes. White Zin is just the zin grape only though, no blending. Just drink it.
8. Lorraine, moi, who is very much a chick, her favorite Rosé is the White Zin from Beringer winery in Napa Valley. Num! Yes, I admit it. I have a have favorite white zin. And it retails for like a mere $6.99 a bottle. And it’s good. Yes, wine snobs, it’s good. And, to the white zin's cred, is responsible for getting many non-wine drinking chicks to drink wine. And drink too much wine. And therefore probably responsible for many nights of men gettin' some (reproductive success). Beringer is also the wineery credited with making White Zin famous, but also gave it the cheap reputation. But as far as I'm concerned, Thank god for Beringer!! Beringer is like the Disneyland of wineries ya’ll. It's the tourist trap of napa. Which goes perfectly with the White Zin theme moi thinks. And while Beringer White Zin retails these days for a whooping $6.99 a bottle, I remember buying it for $4.99 which makes me feel really old School cool. Cheap! Cheap and good! Just the way I like my wine. But not my men. Someone buy me a bottle immediately. Especially someone who wants me to drink too much wine and subsequently take “advantage of me”.
10. Another good Rosé that really brings back the memories of learning to like wine is the “Fun and Yummy” from Charles Spinetta Winery somewhere in Amador Wine Country in Cali. But don’t bother looking. It now exists as chenin blanc version... Wait...maybe I’m remembering this as white zin and it was chenin blanc, a white white…. Regardless, who cares, it was faboo, so on with story…. I tasted (and bought) it at the winery in like 1997 while being forced, yet again, to wine taste, yet again, with my parents. I drank it at the tasting bar in the Spinetta winery. I liked it. I loved it. Succulent and sweet. Like honeysuckle and candy. It was a defining moment for me. First wine I liked. Haven't complained about wine tasting with my parents since (I'm an ungrateful daughter).
11. Lesson learned: Girlfriends (or even boys - I'll make it a personal goal) who don’t like wine, serve them a Rosé. They’ll drink it and like it. As evidenced by Madeline. And you’ll have a drunken chick on your hands. Excellent…
Wednesday, March 18
What I learned last night March 17, Seattle
What I Learned Last Night: How to Bake Your Own Bread and acknowledging your scarred heart.
To Bake your own Bread
1) Mix:
2 cups flour
1 cup water
1 packet yeast
2 teaspoons salt
2) Knead. Knead the dough. Need the dough. Knead the dough only by hand. Appreciate the feeling of making something by hand, something real, something that can be more easily made with a machine but won't taste or feel nearly as good. Knead the dough like you’re making love for your last time. Don’t be intimated. Knead it some more and remember what it felt like to make love your first time, but this time don’t hold back. Own it. Knead it... turn it... press it until your muscles ache with soreness.
While kneading remeber the time you beat those eggwhites by hand with the wire whisk into stiff gleaming peaks, and then gently folded into your souffle base, hoping your signif other will appreciate the graceful dish and effort and savor your souffle, beautifully risen, then falling into its inevitable decline. But this is another story.
Continuing kneading your dough. Cry into your dough. Cry into your dough, remembering what it feels like to touch someone you love. And remember what it feels like to touch someone you love where few touch them. Knead it.
Cry salty tears. Your bread will taste better.
3) Knead into a ball.
4) Place in bowl. Cover with a fresh kitchen towel. A kitchen towel from the set your mother gave you and your ex-fiancé as a gift. This is pronounced “i-ro-ny”.
5) Rise. Allow dough to raise to double its volume.
Knead it again. Allow your cried, salty, ironic bread, and your heart to double in volume again.
6) Set oven to 350 degrees. While oven warms shape your dough into something beautifully simple. Maybe just a round ball. When oven is nice and hot, take a sharp blade, and gash your irony dough across the top as many times as your therapist recommends. A Crisscross does nicely, and is a doughy scar that, with a caring hand, will bake into something lovely and tasty.
7) Place dough into oven upon a well-oiled pan. Don’t want irony bread to stick.
8) Bake for half an hour.
While your irony bread goes about its business of baking and driving you mad with its wonderfully warming and intoxicating aroma, and while your new boy toy (smoking chef) drives you insane with his wonderfully warming and intoxicating pheromones, think about all the ways you want to eat your bread... and new boy toy. Tearing it apart, piece by piece. Ravishing it... with crumbs flying. Or eat it slowly acknowledging that both good bread and new relationships take time to rise into beauty, require a slow gentle hand, that takes the time to knead it and need it and both taste better and are more satisfying when given time to rise and develop.
9) Take bread out. Eat your bread. Enjoy. Relish your new boy toy and new feelings. I mean bread…. Savor. Savor its humbleness. Savor its whimsy. Stretch it out. Make it last. Cover it in butter that melts warmed against fresh new bread. Savor that this doesn’t happen often. Appreciate that it is rare in life to find such beauty. I mean bread. Appreciate it is rare you make bread and appreciate that it’s rare you find something so simple and easy to be around. Something you can just sit and be still with. Something gentle. Something kind. I mean it’s rare you make your own bread.
To Bake your own Bread
1) Mix:
2 cups flour
1 cup water
1 packet yeast
2 teaspoons salt
2) Knead. Knead the dough. Need the dough. Knead the dough only by hand. Appreciate the feeling of making something by hand, something real, something that can be more easily made with a machine but won't taste or feel nearly as good. Knead the dough like you’re making love for your last time. Don’t be intimated. Knead it some more and remember what it felt like to make love your first time, but this time don’t hold back. Own it. Knead it... turn it... press it until your muscles ache with soreness.
While kneading remeber the time you beat those eggwhites by hand with the wire whisk into stiff gleaming peaks, and then gently folded into your souffle base, hoping your signif other will appreciate the graceful dish and effort and savor your souffle, beautifully risen, then falling into its inevitable decline. But this is another story.
Continuing kneading your dough. Cry into your dough. Cry into your dough, remembering what it feels like to touch someone you love. And remember what it feels like to touch someone you love where few touch them. Knead it.
Cry salty tears. Your bread will taste better.
3) Knead into a ball.
4) Place in bowl. Cover with a fresh kitchen towel. A kitchen towel from the set your mother gave you and your ex-fiancé as a gift. This is pronounced “i-ro-ny”.
5) Rise. Allow dough to raise to double its volume.
Knead it again. Allow your cried, salty, ironic bread, and your heart to double in volume again.
6) Set oven to 350 degrees. While oven warms shape your dough into something beautifully simple. Maybe just a round ball. When oven is nice and hot, take a sharp blade, and gash your irony dough across the top as many times as your therapist recommends. A Crisscross does nicely, and is a doughy scar that, with a caring hand, will bake into something lovely and tasty.
7) Place dough into oven upon a well-oiled pan. Don’t want irony bread to stick.
8) Bake for half an hour.
While your irony bread goes about its business of baking and driving you mad with its wonderfully warming and intoxicating aroma, and while your new boy toy (smoking chef) drives you insane with his wonderfully warming and intoxicating pheromones, think about all the ways you want to eat your bread... and new boy toy. Tearing it apart, piece by piece. Ravishing it... with crumbs flying. Or eat it slowly acknowledging that both good bread and new relationships take time to rise into beauty, require a slow gentle hand, that takes the time to knead it and need it and both taste better and are more satisfying when given time to rise and develop.
9) Take bread out. Eat your bread. Enjoy. Relish your new boy toy and new feelings. I mean bread…. Savor. Savor its humbleness. Savor its whimsy. Stretch it out. Make it last. Cover it in butter that melts warmed against fresh new bread. Savor that this doesn’t happen often. Appreciate that it is rare in life to find such beauty. I mean bread. Appreciate it is rare you make bread and appreciate that it’s rare you find something so simple and easy to be around. Something you can just sit and be still with. Something gentle. Something kind. I mean it’s rare you make your own bread.
Friday, February 27
What I learned Last night, Seattle WA
What I learned last night:
Generally speaking, when receiving text messages from male suitors, females like text messages to contain the following doses of sunshine:
1) females like to receive text messages that describe the text receiver as "gorgeous".
2) females also like to receive texts that read "can't wait to see you."
3) females also like to receive texts that read "if you brought me coffee in the morning I wouldn't know what to do with myself. What are you doing tonight then?"
4) females lso like texts that say "Happy birthday sweet Lorraine"…. well this female specifically….
Generally speaking, when receiving text messages from male suitors, females like text messages to contain the following doses of sunshine:
1) females like to receive text messages that describe the text receiver as "gorgeous".
2) females also like to receive texts that read "can't wait to see you."
3) females also like to receive texts that read "if you brought me coffee in the morning I wouldn't know what to do with myself. What are you doing tonight then?"
4) females lso like texts that say "Happy birthday sweet Lorraine"…. well this female specifically….
Tuesday, February 24
What I learned Last Night, Monday Feb 23, various locations, Seattle
What I learned when dancing behind a sheet:
**Note: dancing Behind, NOT UNDER sheet.
1) Wow Alex, aren't you a lucky man? Three women, one bed sheet, one camera, and one swanky song: Harlem Nocturne. Wait...this sounds better than it actually is....
2) Yes I know most people know this already, but, when dancing behind a sheet being used as a makeshift silhouette-ing curtain, a strategic placement of the sheet and the light exists in highlighting an exaggerated, slim body.
3) Be sure to keep in mind it is always about the profile... Hats and nipples make lovely silhouettes. Who knew?! Apparently one may use ice to perk up one's nipples. When Mary, forever now known as Sexy Bird Women, surprises you with her expertise on this subject, choose not to ask how. But take her ability and know-how as inspiration.
Additional tidbits learned from Mary Sexy Bird Woman and Madeline:
4) Whether you're facing front or back, it doesn't matter, it looks the same. It’s the side view that's got all the goodies. AM I preaching to the choir here?
5) A standard format song will make life much easier when choreographing and assigning parts.
6) Being clothed and doing anything is way more sexy than being naked and acting like a bird. But Flappy thighs and pecking are a good thing behind a curtain.
On another note! Errrmmmm....
7) Postr Seaside Jazz Fest. Traditional Jazz is best done by old men three times Lorraine’s age. Thank you Seaside Jazz Fest and Titan Hot Seven. Madeline, Seaside Jass Fest thinks you are innocent but you soon will be dancing behind curtain without shirt.
8) To know the Smoking chef you must understand his love and knowledge of Soul music 1951- 1975. Kind of like you have to understand what a prostitute is in order to know what a geisha is. 9) Every man should line up a girl to serve them a scotch each evening of the week. I hate scotch. Tastes like dirty ashtray and licorice. But I volunteer to serve it... three times daily....and bring you coffee in the AM...
Tuesday, February 17
What I Learned Last Night. Feb 16
1) A personal thank you to the bovine family. I had left over steak for lunch two days ago. Dear Bovine family, I am sorry I ate one of your own, but you can find comfort in the fact that I enjoyed your meat very much. As a side note bovine family, I am also sorry that one of yours is laying on my floor painted to look like zebra. This is terrible.
2) Film Feast. Movies with great food scenes are fun to reenact. Films such as Willy Wonka and 9 1/2 weeks. This does not include OldBoy. Gross.
9 ½ weeks is a film that carries one of the most recognizable food love scenes in history; the involvement of sexual tension and lovely Kim Basinger being fed cherries….Even jell-o is sexy when spoon fed to a blindfolded girl.
The following is a well researched method for how to reenact 9 1/2weeks successfully.
To re-enact 9 ½ you will need the following:
- scarf or blindfold
- one hedonistic smoking chef in blindfold
- one girl to feed blindfoldee
Keep your 9 ½ Weeks reenactment foods sweet and simple. Foods liked salad or pasta dishes will not work. The sweeter, more singular the taste, the simpler, the better. Simpler. Sweeter. Better.
The following are recommendations, each lab tested and approved and exceeded expectations:
- cherries
- sweet cream ice cream
- maple syrup
- dark chocolate
- sweet white wine. An Oregon Gewürztraminer does very nicely.
This 9 ½ weeks re-enactment can also be a meal replacement. No dinner necessary.
Other movies involving food to re-enact…. How about Marlon Brando plus butter, plus a personal moment with young girl in the film Last Tango in Paris?
Just kidding!!
3) My face hurts today. My lips are dry and chapped, sore and puffy. I’m thirsty. My checks are chaffed. The underside of my nose is red and beginning to peel. But when you reenact 9 ½ weeks what do you expect?
2) Film Feast. Movies with great food scenes are fun to reenact. Films such as Willy Wonka and 9 1/2 weeks. This does not include OldBoy. Gross.
9 ½ weeks is a film that carries one of the most recognizable food love scenes in history; the involvement of sexual tension and lovely Kim Basinger being fed cherries….Even jell-o is sexy when spoon fed to a blindfolded girl.
The following is a well researched method for how to reenact 9 1/2weeks successfully.
To re-enact 9 ½ you will need the following:
- scarf or blindfold
- one hedonistic smoking chef in blindfold
- one girl to feed blindfoldee
Keep your 9 ½ Weeks reenactment foods sweet and simple. Foods liked salad or pasta dishes will not work. The sweeter, more singular the taste, the simpler, the better. Simpler. Sweeter. Better.
The following are recommendations, each lab tested and approved and exceeded expectations:
- cherries
- sweet cream ice cream
- maple syrup
- dark chocolate
- sweet white wine. An Oregon Gewürztraminer does very nicely.
This 9 ½ weeks re-enactment can also be a meal replacement. No dinner necessary.
Other movies involving food to re-enact…. How about Marlon Brando plus butter, plus a personal moment with young girl in the film Last Tango in Paris?
Just kidding!!
3) My face hurts today. My lips are dry and chapped, sore and puffy. I’m thirsty. My checks are chaffed. The underside of my nose is red and beginning to peel. But when you reenact 9 ½ weeks what do you expect?
Friday, February 13
What I Learned Last night Feb 12
1) The best technique for learning to cook a steak is to never learn to cook a steak, a strategic means to get personal chef to come cook it again for you. Stratergerie.
2) Unavailability....the world's most attractive cologne.
3) Italian cookies are delicious, but you just couldn’t eat another.
4) Focus instead on teaching Lindy hop class because teaching beginners makes you happy as does Balboa practice with Yoshi. Try not to think about the fact that you are so not over your last relationship.
2) Unavailability....the world's most attractive cologne.
3) Italian cookies are delicious, but you just couldn’t eat another.
4) Focus instead on teaching Lindy hop class because teaching beginners makes you happy as does Balboa practice with Yoshi. Try not to think about the fact that you are so not over your last relationship.
What I Learned Last Night Feb 11
Consuming your first steak made by personal Chef aka Smoking Chef
or How to lose you Vegetarianity.
or Strategies on eating Meat with many returns.
Dear Gentle reader,
Over the past few years I have been emerging out of the self righteous gloom of a holier-then-thou vegetarian state. A righteous cause yes that I still believe in but Cest la Vie…
My holier-than-thou vegetarianism all started when I was about 16, and was mostly induced by listening to the Smiths and dating a guy who was also holier-than-thou vegetarian and smith’s fan. Bad combo for this girl and any meat eater. I also have to pay homage to my roots as the vegetar-ianty (a Sarah coined term, thanks girlfriend) was also induced by the rebel in moi growing up in the suburbia of Sacramento, California - fast-food laden, homogenization, one long string of mini-malls with a Gap clothing store at one end of Sacramento and a TGIFs at the other end (and Applebee’s of course). Growing up in this complete lack-age of diversity and culture while listening to those Smiths (sing it with me….you know the words… “Sizzling blood as you savor the flavor of murder…”), and dating the vegetarian, and an upbringing by a Texan father – this combination will turn anyone into a vegetarian. Come on, now!
So I have been coming out of my veggie-shell….or cell…but still remain naive as to the ways of properly cooked meats. Fortunately for moi and you, gentle reader, my emerging from vegetarianism state of being and the fact that I have NEVER cooked my own steak lays the grounds for a good “meat and male” story to tell. After an acupuncturist prescription of “eat red meat” and a certain Smoking Chef’s offer of a personally-made-at-my-home combining of fire and steak, the following is What I Learned Last Night:
When consuming your first personally made steak, be sure to plan for….
1) When consuming your first personally made steak, be sure to plan for also consuming two bottles of red wine. One Washington Janik Cabernet (nice!) and one south African Graham Shiraz, gaining an understanding of Cabernet, not Shiraz, not syrah, not Zinfandel, pairs well with steak….
well. I exaggerate… you need to plan for consuming nearly two bottles of red. Some will be used in wine reduction sauce over steak; some Smoking Chef will spill on floor narrowly missing your prized possession cow hid rug….painted to look like zebra…Poor cow….killed, skinned, and then painted to look like a zebra... The bovine disrespect in my apartment at this point is astounding…. but the spill I didn’t mind, as seen in point 9 below.
2) When consuming your first personally made steak, be sure to plan for:
A mid-meal digestif walk to Kerry Park to view downtown Seattle and the Space Needle….While modeling for Smoking Chef’s camera ….while drinking red wine…. while smoking cigarette like Humphrey Bogart/James dean…..You did learn something from Smoking Chef after all…
3) When consuming your first personally made steak, be sure to plan for:
Staying up until 4 am
4) When consuming your first personally made steak, be sure to plan for:
discovering your blue velvet chaise lounge built for one can seat two “comfortably” went two are determined.
I also learned that:
5) A scrabble game where your opponent throws down all his tiles with the word “PUTTING” across the double word score as his first move is not a scrabble game where hope exists for you. My advice in this situation: move game to velvet blue chaise…built for one…
Cognac is a type of brandy which comes from the Cognac region of France. A distinctive, sophisticated spirit made from grapes… A very dry, caramel colored wine which is double distilled and aged in oak barrels. A lovely nose of butterscotch caramel and vipermoan, but the taste is not for the faint of heart. And not for moi for that matter. The Cognac label V.S.O.P. stands for “very superior old pale.”
When serving cognac, post satisfying losing-your-vegetarianity-steak, there are several things to consider in order to enhance the Cognac tasting experience:
~1) Serve cognac in heated snifter. Fill each glass only one-quarter full with cognac. Since cognac has a much higher alcohol content than wine, avoid heavy pours ….as you’ve already shared two bottles of red with your Smoking Chef…. Otherwise you may end up staying up with Smoking Chef until 4:00 in the morning, on velvet blue chaise built for one.
~2) Serve cognac with dessert. While cognac can be enjoyed on its own or with a meal, it compliments sweets, particularly chocolate well. You’ll discover that the your Julia child poached pears with cognac-infused melted chocolate indeed pairs best with How to Cook a Steak Chef…and cognac. Serving cognac with dessert helps to draw out the nuttier flavors in the cognac and draw out the length of stay of How to cook a steak chef...
~3) Cup your hand around the base of the glass rather than holding the stem. The heat from your hand will warm the cognac slightly, thereby enhancing its bouquet and flavor. If your blue chaise lounge built for one companion’s hands are not available to cup the glass, you may find that those hands are instead cupping your thighs.
~4) While nobody disputes the appeal of hand-warmed brandies sniffed and tasted from large glasses, Cognac is best enjoyed as an after taste while kissing in your entry way. Your first kiss with smoking chef...You will also detect nuances of poached pear, chocolate, tobacco, and rare meat.
the end.
or How to lose you Vegetarianity.
or Strategies on eating Meat with many returns.
Dear Gentle reader,
Over the past few years I have been emerging out of the self righteous gloom of a holier-then-thou vegetarian state. A righteous cause yes that I still believe in but Cest la Vie…
My holier-than-thou vegetarianism all started when I was about 16, and was mostly induced by listening to the Smiths and dating a guy who was also holier-than-thou vegetarian and smith’s fan. Bad combo for this girl and any meat eater. I also have to pay homage to my roots as the vegetar-ianty (a Sarah coined term, thanks girlfriend) was also induced by the rebel in moi growing up in the suburbia of Sacramento, California - fast-food laden, homogenization, one long string of mini-malls with a Gap clothing store at one end of Sacramento and a TGIFs at the other end (and Applebee’s of course). Growing up in this complete lack-age of diversity and culture while listening to those Smiths (sing it with me….you know the words… “Sizzling blood as you savor the flavor of murder…”), and dating the vegetarian, and an upbringing by a Texan father – this combination will turn anyone into a vegetarian. Come on, now!
So I have been coming out of my veggie-shell….or cell…but still remain naive as to the ways of properly cooked meats. Fortunately for moi and you, gentle reader, my emerging from vegetarianism state of being and the fact that I have NEVER cooked my own steak lays the grounds for a good “meat and male” story to tell. After an acupuncturist prescription of “eat red meat” and a certain Smoking Chef’s offer of a personally-made-at-my-home combining of fire and steak, the following is What I Learned Last Night:
When consuming your first personally made steak, be sure to plan for….
1) When consuming your first personally made steak, be sure to plan for also consuming two bottles of red wine. One Washington Janik Cabernet (nice!) and one south African Graham Shiraz, gaining an understanding of Cabernet, not Shiraz, not syrah, not Zinfandel, pairs well with steak….
well. I exaggerate… you need to plan for consuming nearly two bottles of red. Some will be used in wine reduction sauce over steak; some Smoking Chef will spill on floor narrowly missing your prized possession cow hid rug….painted to look like zebra…Poor cow….killed, skinned, and then painted to look like a zebra... The bovine disrespect in my apartment at this point is astounding…. but the spill I didn’t mind, as seen in point 9 below.
2) When consuming your first personally made steak, be sure to plan for:
A mid-meal digestif walk to Kerry Park to view downtown Seattle and the Space Needle….While modeling for Smoking Chef’s camera ….while drinking red wine…. while smoking cigarette like Humphrey Bogart/James dean…..You did learn something from Smoking Chef after all…
3) When consuming your first personally made steak, be sure to plan for:
Staying up until 4 am
4) When consuming your first personally made steak, be sure to plan for:
discovering your blue velvet chaise lounge built for one can seat two “comfortably” went two are determined.
I also learned that:
5) A scrabble game where your opponent throws down all his tiles with the word “PUTTING” across the double word score as his first move is not a scrabble game where hope exists for you. My advice in this situation: move game to velvet blue chaise…built for one…
Cognac is a type of brandy which comes from the Cognac region of France. A distinctive, sophisticated spirit made from grapes… A very dry, caramel colored wine which is double distilled and aged in oak barrels. A lovely nose of butterscotch caramel and vipermoan, but the taste is not for the faint of heart. And not for moi for that matter. The Cognac label V.S.O.P. stands for “very superior old pale.”
When serving cognac, post satisfying losing-your-vegetarianity-steak, there are several things to consider in order to enhance the Cognac tasting experience:
~1) Serve cognac in heated snifter. Fill each glass only one-quarter full with cognac. Since cognac has a much higher alcohol content than wine, avoid heavy pours ….as you’ve already shared two bottles of red with your Smoking Chef…. Otherwise you may end up staying up with Smoking Chef until 4:00 in the morning, on velvet blue chaise built for one.
~2) Serve cognac with dessert. While cognac can be enjoyed on its own or with a meal, it compliments sweets, particularly chocolate well. You’ll discover that the your Julia child poached pears with cognac-infused melted chocolate indeed pairs best with How to Cook a Steak Chef…and cognac. Serving cognac with dessert helps to draw out the nuttier flavors in the cognac and draw out the length of stay of How to cook a steak chef...
~3) Cup your hand around the base of the glass rather than holding the stem. The heat from your hand will warm the cognac slightly, thereby enhancing its bouquet and flavor. If your blue chaise lounge built for one companion’s hands are not available to cup the glass, you may find that those hands are instead cupping your thighs.
~4) While nobody disputes the appeal of hand-warmed brandies sniffed and tasted from large glasses, Cognac is best enjoyed as an after taste while kissing in your entry way. Your first kiss with smoking chef...You will also detect nuances of poached pear, chocolate, tobacco, and rare meat.
the end.
Sunday, February 8
What I learned last night. Feb 7th
What I learned last night.
Ballard
1) One of the best fashion looks now days is the nonchalant look - the "whatever” thrown together look. But this thrown together look can required quite a bit of work, trial and error. Since I’m such a fashionista I know you tried really hard and spent an hour layering that outfit. I know because I do this myself – the time pulling everything out of my closet, trying it on, talking it off, this with that, layering it over something else, taking it off, throwing it on the bed or floor, all in the attempt at nonchalant look. Like I just "throw that on"… I’m one myself.
2) As with religion and girl dance groups that take off their clothes, you do not need to be too heavily involved in fashion, or Carrie Bradshaw, for it to totally screw with your head.....and you end up wearing layers of lacy lingerie over cargo shorts and pink and yellow flowered Betsey Johnson high heels. This believe it or not is a good look. The juxtaposition of the manly cargo shorts with the ultimate in femininity: lace, and of course not just one lacy top but like 3 different slip components. A highly fashion forward look! ...even if your friends don’t embrace it.
3) A good feminine tip: I learned at a young age and while in gymnastics that two layers of underwear is the best way to keep underwear from riding up your arse. The single pair in one layer that allow serious ride-age all the way up crack. This is general info and info that comes in handy when you dance on a girl dance group and prance around in front of girl group members and Italian stalkering cookie makers.
4) Be forgiving of the DJ wearing the long util-kilt. He just might be a seamstress and tailor and someone you identify with. Oh and the handle bar mustache. Bonus.
5) Be weary of the DJ with ulti-kilt and handle bar mustache who asks you to come listen to his set on a Sunday at midnight.
Ballard
1) One of the best fashion looks now days is the nonchalant look - the "whatever” thrown together look. But this thrown together look can required quite a bit of work, trial and error. Since I’m such a fashionista I know you tried really hard and spent an hour layering that outfit. I know because I do this myself – the time pulling everything out of my closet, trying it on, talking it off, this with that, layering it over something else, taking it off, throwing it on the bed or floor, all in the attempt at nonchalant look. Like I just "throw that on"… I’m one myself.
2) As with religion and girl dance groups that take off their clothes, you do not need to be too heavily involved in fashion, or Carrie Bradshaw, for it to totally screw with your head.....and you end up wearing layers of lacy lingerie over cargo shorts and pink and yellow flowered Betsey Johnson high heels. This believe it or not is a good look. The juxtaposition of the manly cargo shorts with the ultimate in femininity: lace, and of course not just one lacy top but like 3 different slip components. A highly fashion forward look! ...even if your friends don’t embrace it.
3) A good feminine tip: I learned at a young age and while in gymnastics that two layers of underwear is the best way to keep underwear from riding up your arse. The single pair in one layer that allow serious ride-age all the way up crack. This is general info and info that comes in handy when you dance on a girl dance group and prance around in front of girl group members and Italian stalkering cookie makers.
4) Be forgiving of the DJ wearing the long util-kilt. He just might be a seamstress and tailor and someone you identify with. Oh and the handle bar mustache. Bonus.
5) Be weary of the DJ with ulti-kilt and handle bar mustache who asks you to come listen to his set on a Sunday at midnight.
Thursday, February 5
What I learned last night:
1) How To Cook a Steak
OR:
How to loose your “vegetar-ianty” in 4 days and 4 easy steps
Step 1: Acupuncturist tells in you in Chinese accent to start eating red meat. "You bruise easy.... Have Din blood. You need to brreeed." ....well that's obvious, especially considering your current state. Wait did she say bleed or brrreed? Either way. both apply...
Step 2: Learn to cook your first steak:
Get offer from chef to teach you how to cook steak.
Dear Gentle reader, this chef happens to be the same person who taught you how to smoke a cigarette like Humphrey Bogart/James Dean. What exactly are you learning from Smoking Chef? very bad. Red meat and cigarettes...
Smoking Chef's First Steak Recipe (or "how to lose your vegetar-ianty"):
The “All on HI 2 2 10” method
Thick steak, must be enough for two people.
Salt, pepper, olive oil. Rub.
Turn oven on high
Turn burner on high
Heat pan.
Sear Steak: 2 minutes one side, 2 minutes the other side.
10 minutes in the oven
Rest.
Optional red wine reduction to pour over top.
Many variables to consider. Time depends on pan, etc. Cook for your first time at your own detriment. Smoking chef recommends smoking chef accompanies you for first steak attempt.
Step 3: Wait for visiting parents to leave town in four days.
Step 4: Insert one smoking chef in 4 days after visiting parents leave. After all, steak was enough for two.
Steps 1 through 4 satisfy the following: Giving away vegetar-ianty, learning how to cook your first steak, appeasing the pokes of acupuncturist, and prods of Paige.
2) My ovaries are adverse to:
guys who are better looking than me
guys who have higher maintenance hair than my own (actually this is situational...might have to revise this statement, but this does apply to Italian stalkers-cookie makers)
guys who ride bikes for exercises purposes
Elegance is refusal.... Even when you have the cute under where (?!) on.
3) Consider this: Friday the 13th Art walk with a pornographer. This has to be a once in a life time opportunity. But no no. Balboa festival in better option.
4) When you find that things that once brought you joy now bring you sadness - a celebratory solution exists! Head straight to the yearly Seaside Jazz Festival with fellow lindy hoppers who love you. The Titan Hot Seven are therapeutic, as is Pig 'n Pancake breakfast. Celebrate. The end.
1) How To Cook a Steak
OR:
How to loose your “vegetar-ianty” in 4 days and 4 easy steps
Step 1: Acupuncturist tells in you in Chinese accent to start eating red meat. "You bruise easy.... Have Din blood. You need to brreeed." ....well that's obvious, especially considering your current state. Wait did she say bleed or brrreed? Either way. both apply...
Step 2: Learn to cook your first steak:
Get offer from chef to teach you how to cook steak.
Dear Gentle reader, this chef happens to be the same person who taught you how to smoke a cigarette like Humphrey Bogart/James Dean. What exactly are you learning from Smoking Chef? very bad. Red meat and cigarettes...
Smoking Chef's First Steak Recipe (or "how to lose your vegetar-ianty"):
The “All on HI 2 2 10” method
Thick steak, must be enough for two people.
Salt, pepper, olive oil. Rub.
Turn oven on high
Turn burner on high
Heat pan.
Sear Steak: 2 minutes one side, 2 minutes the other side.
10 minutes in the oven
Rest.
Optional red wine reduction to pour over top.
Many variables to consider. Time depends on pan, etc. Cook for your first time at your own detriment. Smoking chef recommends smoking chef accompanies you for first steak attempt.
Step 3: Wait for visiting parents to leave town in four days.
Step 4: Insert one smoking chef in 4 days after visiting parents leave. After all, steak was enough for two.
Steps 1 through 4 satisfy the following: Giving away vegetar-ianty, learning how to cook your first steak, appeasing the pokes of acupuncturist, and prods of Paige.
2) My ovaries are adverse to:
guys who are better looking than me
guys who have higher maintenance hair than my own (actually this is situational...might have to revise this statement, but this does apply to Italian stalkers-cookie makers)
guys who ride bikes for exercises purposes
Elegance is refusal.... Even when you have the cute under where (?!) on.
3) Consider this: Friday the 13th Art walk with a pornographer. This has to be a once in a life time opportunity. But no no. Balboa festival in better option.
4) When you find that things that once brought you joy now bring you sadness - a celebratory solution exists! Head straight to the yearly Seaside Jazz Festival with fellow lindy hoppers who love you. The Titan Hot Seven are therapeutic, as is Pig 'n Pancake breakfast. Celebrate. The end.
Tuesday, February 3
What I learned Last Night. Friday Jan 31. West Seattle. Casey's condo. Female Panel.
What I learned last night:
1. This article is titled any of the following. You choose.
Female Friend's advice on getting over the old relationship.
Or The Rebound.
Or How to Handle an Italian Cookie Maker: Thwarting impending Italian Advances.
Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.
When you make that transition from a serious relationship back into the real world (no small feat), there is something in particular you must do to complete this transition. Some would advise you a therapeutic rebound. And when you have at your disposal:
A: an evening in a room full of fertile foolery female friends salivating to share their experiences, love and life lessons learned, as well as one-liners, these opinions will be shared,
B: a lovely male Italian cookie maker-stalker -pastry chef-caricature of himself and all Italian stereotypes. This guy is that stereotypically Italian kind of handsome, with thicker, more high-maintenance hair then you have, fully equipped with a Vespa in his drive way, the Sopranos on DVD, a thick rolling R present in all his vocab, Corinthian style columns installed in his home in an Italian version of my Big Fat Greek Wedding kind of way, makes you the very very best risotto you have ever, ever had. And then hand feeds you...I'm telling you...Hand... friggin'... feeds you his dessert specially.... Any guesses what that could be?! Tiramisu. Naturally.... Plus brings Italian cookies made especially for you, and tells you to share them with your girlfriends... Then tells you all night how beautiful you are. In Italian. Stereotype. Caricature. Check.
When you have A and B at your disposal, the following is what you will learn that evening... The advice and personal opinions shared by this panel of females. You will find here some apropos advice, but more so you will find a little accolade of each friend’s personality. Of which each I just adore. So, Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one....
We’ll start with Robin: “If you are going to have a transitional guy, rebound style, always, always, do a hot Italian…with an accent…and money…This is how it is done.”
Casey, whom herself has dealt with the Italian job, follows closely in line with Robin “Do this for the story to tell later in life”. This Lorraine is in wholehearted agreement with. Or atleast after a bunch of tacos and red wine. A lovely combo I might add. Black Beans, sauteed onions peppers, mushrooms, Mexican spices, spinach, shredded cheddar, crunchy taco shell, homemade guacamole. Too many glasses of Australian Shiraz. Lovely…
Casey adds, “Oh and my new philosophy I learned from a kitshish magnet I saw in a airport. All good life advice can be found on magnets…. It read, “What the Hell?” ...As simple as that... “What the Hell.”… I apply this basic philosophy to all my male encounters in life now….I’m much happier…. Oh and I must not leave out this infamous words of wisdom Lorraine once gave me personally… 'What do you have to lose?' That was f-in sound advice…” Can’t say Casey ain’t honest.
Mary advises, “Make out with every guy you know. A little tits and ass.”
Mary sings a little tune “Tits and Ass…Tits and Ass…”
Mary continues, “A little feel...” Gestures with a hand up her shirt.
“But No Sex…" Waving her pointer finger in the air. "Although I do allow you one BJ. Oh and then go to his wedding…… The end!”
This ‘The End’ Mary punctuates with a flying fist punched straight into the air, eyes closed and a Freddie Mercury chagrin, an animation that conveys honesty and passion... And a puncuated defined ending point.
Robin: “Do him…Move on…”
Mary explains that during a transitional-rebound period in her dating life, she made out with a guy and later found out he had a girlfriend. “This was before Facebook…”
Madeline: You can trust Madeline’s approach any relationship: transitional, rebound, and otherwise. Despite her flirtatious and “I’m like rubber, you're like glue, bounces off me, sticks to you” exterior, Madeline is the most kind and gentle girl I know. She approaches every social situation in life with an open, trusting heart, and the assumption of the best. She’s kind and views the world through rose colored glasses. Practically Mother Theresa…. In fishnet stockings…. Madeline shares, only after being solicited for her opinion of course: “I do not trust myself to not get attached. You have to have a sense of where you stand. How much you’ve grown. A self awareness of how much you have healed. Self awareness…”
Casey, drunk Casey is the best Casey, chimes in “I think you need to have some sex…Think of it this way…advice my dear Russian friend once shared with me….'You’re the one fucking him'…My life has never been the same.”
Robin: “Back to the Italian man….The Italian dirty talk….Major bonus…”
I recede from all this Go-sex! advice, and the girls can feel it, so Gaby chimes in with a that mischievous smile: “Of course you do him!...He’s an Italian cookie maker. The logic follows… Plus he might be uncircumcised. Bonus.”....Conversation comes to an immediate derail...
1. This article is titled any of the following. You choose.
Female Friend's advice on getting over the old relationship.
Or The Rebound.
Or How to Handle an Italian Cookie Maker: Thwarting impending Italian Advances.
Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb.
When you make that transition from a serious relationship back into the real world (no small feat), there is something in particular you must do to complete this transition. Some would advise you a therapeutic rebound. And when you have at your disposal:
A: an evening in a room full of fertile foolery female friends salivating to share their experiences, love and life lessons learned, as well as one-liners, these opinions will be shared,
B: a lovely male Italian cookie maker-stalker -pastry chef-caricature of himself and all Italian stereotypes. This guy is that stereotypically Italian kind of handsome, with thicker, more high-maintenance hair then you have, fully equipped with a Vespa in his drive way, the Sopranos on DVD, a thick rolling R present in all his vocab, Corinthian style columns installed in his home in an Italian version of my Big Fat Greek Wedding kind of way, makes you the very very best risotto you have ever, ever had. And then hand feeds you...I'm telling you...Hand... friggin'... feeds you his dessert specially.... Any guesses what that could be?! Tiramisu. Naturally.... Plus brings Italian cookies made especially for you, and tells you to share them with your girlfriends... Then tells you all night how beautiful you are. In Italian. Stereotype. Caricature. Check.
When you have A and B at your disposal, the following is what you will learn that evening... The advice and personal opinions shared by this panel of females. You will find here some apropos advice, but more so you will find a little accolade of each friend’s personality. Of which each I just adore. So, Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one....
We’ll start with Robin: “If you are going to have a transitional guy, rebound style, always, always, do a hot Italian…with an accent…and money…This is how it is done.”
Casey, whom herself has dealt with the Italian job, follows closely in line with Robin “Do this for the story to tell later in life”. This Lorraine is in wholehearted agreement with. Or atleast after a bunch of tacos and red wine. A lovely combo I might add. Black Beans, sauteed onions peppers, mushrooms, Mexican spices, spinach, shredded cheddar, crunchy taco shell, homemade guacamole. Too many glasses of Australian Shiraz. Lovely…
Casey adds, “Oh and my new philosophy I learned from a kitshish magnet I saw in a airport. All good life advice can be found on magnets…. It read, “What the Hell?” ...As simple as that... “What the Hell.”… I apply this basic philosophy to all my male encounters in life now….I’m much happier…. Oh and I must not leave out this infamous words of wisdom Lorraine once gave me personally… 'What do you have to lose?' That was f-in sound advice…” Can’t say Casey ain’t honest.
Mary advises, “Make out with every guy you know. A little tits and ass.”
Mary sings a little tune “Tits and Ass…Tits and Ass…”
Mary continues, “A little feel...” Gestures with a hand up her shirt.
“But No Sex…" Waving her pointer finger in the air. "Although I do allow you one BJ. Oh and then go to his wedding…… The end!”
This ‘The End’ Mary punctuates with a flying fist punched straight into the air, eyes closed and a Freddie Mercury chagrin, an animation that conveys honesty and passion... And a puncuated defined ending point.
Robin: “Do him…Move on…”
Mary explains that during a transitional-rebound period in her dating life, she made out with a guy and later found out he had a girlfriend. “This was before Facebook…”
Madeline: You can trust Madeline’s approach any relationship: transitional, rebound, and otherwise. Despite her flirtatious and “I’m like rubber, you're like glue, bounces off me, sticks to you” exterior, Madeline is the most kind and gentle girl I know. She approaches every social situation in life with an open, trusting heart, and the assumption of the best. She’s kind and views the world through rose colored glasses. Practically Mother Theresa…. In fishnet stockings…. Madeline shares, only after being solicited for her opinion of course: “I do not trust myself to not get attached. You have to have a sense of where you stand. How much you’ve grown. A self awareness of how much you have healed. Self awareness…”
Casey, drunk Casey is the best Casey, chimes in “I think you need to have some sex…Think of it this way…advice my dear Russian friend once shared with me….'You’re the one fucking him'…My life has never been the same.”
Robin: “Back to the Italian man….The Italian dirty talk….Major bonus…”
I recede from all this Go-sex! advice, and the girls can feel it, so Gaby chimes in with a that mischievous smile: “Of course you do him!...He’s an Italian cookie maker. The logic follows… Plus he might be uncircumcised. Bonus.”....Conversation comes to an immediate derail...
Friday, January 30
What I learned last night. Wednesday Jan 28, Murphy’s Pub and Casey’s Condo, Seattle
What I learned last night.
1. When talking on a cell phone, you are 43% more likely of getting hit by a car in Miami by a hooker. Another golden nugget of knowledge from Murphy’s Pub Wednesday Night trivia, or actually as manipulated by a table of tech geeks. We lost at trivia this time, but only during the final quick fire beer guzzling round. Although Ben can guzzle a beer faster than the buck-o-five Asian girl – contrary to popular belief he does not know the state inhabited by the mother of the child who died of 7-11 salmonella Ketchup potato chip poisoning. We have learned it is not Alabama. Ben looks harmless enough, but this guy has an evil side. Like, “First one’s on me, kid” kind of evil side. This evil side of Ben taught me to smoke a Nat Sherman clove cigarette like Humphrey Bogart/James Dean. The technique is to hold to smokeable filter end between your thumb and pointer fingers, with the smoking aflame end cupped, hidden from outside view in the palm of your hand. And if a brick or concrete wall is nearby you must lean up against it…with knee propped up, hat pulled down over eyes, leather jacket collar up. (I only had a 1970’s rabbit fur.) Very nonchalant. You totally know the look. Ben is more chic chic then he lets on. Maybe Ben was just trying to get me alone outside. We hid a clove in the window pane in case we are ever in need of re-enacting Humphy and sans cig.
2. When Casey buys a condo, you will eat taco.
So, Casey buys a condo. A purchase requiring a longer and more thoroughly thought out commitment then marriage or raising a child to adulthood. 30 years guaranteed! So Casey carefully plans her first get-together for Friday evening. Might I note that Casey is all about theme parties. More on the “Awkward Party” at a later time... Genius.
The theme of her first get together at this new condo? Any guesses? What do you think it could be? Chick Taco Night. Literally. All chicks. Eating tacos. Condos, chicks , and tacos. It’s Taco night at Casey’s new digs. Wonder if the Exotic Bakery sells pink taco shells…
3. There's something to be said for a man you can sit still with. The end says Mary
1. When talking on a cell phone, you are 43% more likely of getting hit by a car in Miami by a hooker. Another golden nugget of knowledge from Murphy’s Pub Wednesday Night trivia, or actually as manipulated by a table of tech geeks. We lost at trivia this time, but only during the final quick fire beer guzzling round. Although Ben can guzzle a beer faster than the buck-o-five Asian girl – contrary to popular belief he does not know the state inhabited by the mother of the child who died of 7-11 salmonella Ketchup potato chip poisoning. We have learned it is not Alabama. Ben looks harmless enough, but this guy has an evil side. Like, “First one’s on me, kid” kind of evil side. This evil side of Ben taught me to smoke a Nat Sherman clove cigarette like Humphrey Bogart/James Dean. The technique is to hold to smokeable filter end between your thumb and pointer fingers, with the smoking aflame end cupped, hidden from outside view in the palm of your hand. And if a brick or concrete wall is nearby you must lean up against it…with knee propped up, hat pulled down over eyes, leather jacket collar up. (I only had a 1970’s rabbit fur.) Very nonchalant. You totally know the look. Ben is more chic chic then he lets on. Maybe Ben was just trying to get me alone outside. We hid a clove in the window pane in case we are ever in need of re-enacting Humphy and sans cig.
2. When Casey buys a condo, you will eat taco.
So, Casey buys a condo. A purchase requiring a longer and more thoroughly thought out commitment then marriage or raising a child to adulthood. 30 years guaranteed! So Casey carefully plans her first get-together for Friday evening. Might I note that Casey is all about theme parties. More on the “Awkward Party” at a later time... Genius.
The theme of her first get together at this new condo? Any guesses? What do you think it could be? Chick Taco Night. Literally. All chicks. Eating tacos. Condos, chicks , and tacos. It’s Taco night at Casey’s new digs. Wonder if the Exotic Bakery sells pink taco shells…
3. There's something to be said for a man you can sit still with. The end says Mary
Tuesday, January 27
What I Learned Last Night Jan 26th, Mccormick and Schmick's, Seattle
What I Learned Last Night.
1. When an Italian man living in Seattle aggressively flirts with you at a coffee shop, follows you without you knowing to secondhand store, then has the nerve to ask for your phone number, believe it or not: GIVE IT TO HIM.
2. When an Italian man speaks to you (and your more broken than mending heart fyi to you) at Starbucks, obviously you scamper away avoiding his Italian advances. You proceed with your planned activities for the day: go to Goodwill, then Sister Kate practice... Trrraa Leee Laaa... thinking “thank god I avoided that presumptive Italian. How many women does this euro attempt to nail on a daily basis? He should have a better mind to go play some soccer instead of flirting with you at Starbucks. I mean Football...whatever."
3. When an Italian man flirts with you at Starbucks, you leave Starbucks, drive three miles to Goodwill, then Italian man appears at Goodwill, claims to be buying, but never actually purchasing drip sheets for the painting project he claims to be undertaking: be afraid for your life for a split moment. Yes he followed you to Goodwill….From Starbucks…Across town… Did he really end up at Goodwill to buy sheets? No, obviously not. You’re a bit perturbed, yes…Scared actually. You have a stalker.... Did he break into my car outside? Ack, he knows my car! But you note that Italian man is rather handsome in that very euro way.
4. When an Italian man flirts with you at Starbucks then ends up at Goodwill asking you to go out on a date, what do you do? You tell him you have a boyfriend and you can not, “but thank you for asking”... You have successfully thwarted his Italian advances. He recedes...You continue trying on your vintage 1970’s rabbit fur coat fitting (By the way: Goodwill’s policy is to not take real fur, so this is quite a find!)…. which he commented looked nice (sold. must be a Goodwill sales plant.) Ummmm, did you really just pass up the opportunity to go on a date with an Italian accent? How very UN-euro of him to give up so easily. Humph, i'm personally insulted. You consider….this Italian did just follow you across town to Goodwill. Yes you did give up the opportunity, but C‘est la Vie as the French say. Wonder what the Italian’s say? Anyway, out of sight out of mind and continue onto to black faux fur coat. Ewww this sheds….
5. Wow there’s the advancing Italian again; he is back… You are annoyed, and scared of potential stalker, wondering if he broke into your car in the parking lot, but are admittedly flattered....because you are obviously insane....He asks for your phone number, saying to meet him for coffee or a drink sometime even if you do have a boyfriend. You had lied – you consider, he’s Euro and you find it appealing he does not take NO for an answer. Like a good European man, and a girl does like to be pursued. You might have just ovulated. (my foreshadow: it must be the sugar on his cookies.) But you think “This is just stalking dude! Get rid of him, girlfriend!”, and decide the only way to get rid of him is to give him a phone number, a wrong phone number. But in the middle of the phone number giving, and against your better judgement, while he’s typing into his…. Blackberry? (why does Italian stalker, potential kidney thief, have a Blackberry?)…right when you are about to switch the numbers like you always do, you decide, what the hell, I’ll give him the real one. Because he’s handsome. Yes he’s a stalker, but I have nothing to lose… Except kidneys which are used to process all that coffee you drink... You give him your real number. He has trouble putting it into his phone... Too many fives. But he makes sure to get it correct and takes the time to get your name correct. Wow he’s very cute really. Probably too cute actually. He must have a thousand women he's nailing. But you are flattered he made the effort to stalk you to Goodwill, and not take NO for an answer. Atleast this makes a good story.
He leaves, not buying those sheets.
6. The lesson learned at this point - an IF/THEN statement if you will:
If an Italian man flirts with you at Starbucks then follows you to goodwill, asks you for a date, you tell him you have a boyfriend, he tries again, THEN you always give him your real phone number.
He calls two days later. You do not call back. But your girlfriend B thinks it’s cute he followed you to Goodwill. "Plus he’s Italian", B says. Two days after that you call him back.
7. When an Italian man living in Seattle flirts with you in Starbucks, you ignore him, he then follows you to Goodwill , and asks for your phone number, give it to him. Because:
- he owns an Italian cookie company. Yes cookies. Italian.
- he’ll order oysters, plate and serve them to you.
- he’ll order a glass of Prosecco to go with the oysters. You'll love that.
- he is nice easy company. Intelligent, talkative but not overly so, but overly talented, overly accomplished (probably more than you are comfortable with), tells a good story, and isn't funny at all which is endearing.
- you figure he has both a million dollars and a million women.
- he induces ovulation: a lovely biological reaction of pheromones [dopamine: C6H3(OH)2-CH2-CH2-NH2] and sugar (C12H22O11) from his cookies. This is good for your current state of being.
- he tells you all night you are beautiful (more dopamine)
Yeah so go ahead, give him your phone number.
8. It must be the sugar in his cookies.
9. Less is more. Stick with that. When Italian asks you over for dinner on Saturday, tell him you have plans with your girlfriend and you are not available.
Elegance is Refusal.
10. What I learned last night: When an Italian man flirts with you at coffee shop, follows you to a secondhand store, asks for your phone number. GIVE IT TO HIM.
1. When an Italian man living in Seattle aggressively flirts with you at a coffee shop, follows you without you knowing to secondhand store, then has the nerve to ask for your phone number, believe it or not: GIVE IT TO HIM.
2. When an Italian man speaks to you (and your more broken than mending heart fyi to you) at Starbucks, obviously you scamper away avoiding his Italian advances. You proceed with your planned activities for the day: go to Goodwill, then Sister Kate practice... Trrraa Leee Laaa... thinking “thank god I avoided that presumptive Italian. How many women does this euro attempt to nail on a daily basis? He should have a better mind to go play some soccer instead of flirting with you at Starbucks. I mean Football...whatever."
3. When an Italian man flirts with you at Starbucks, you leave Starbucks, drive three miles to Goodwill, then Italian man appears at Goodwill, claims to be buying, but never actually purchasing drip sheets for the painting project he claims to be undertaking: be afraid for your life for a split moment. Yes he followed you to Goodwill….From Starbucks…Across town… Did he really end up at Goodwill to buy sheets? No, obviously not. You’re a bit perturbed, yes…Scared actually. You have a stalker.... Did he break into my car outside? Ack, he knows my car! But you note that Italian man is rather handsome in that very euro way.
4. When an Italian man flirts with you at Starbucks then ends up at Goodwill asking you to go out on a date, what do you do? You tell him you have a boyfriend and you can not, “but thank you for asking”... You have successfully thwarted his Italian advances. He recedes...You continue trying on your vintage 1970’s rabbit fur coat fitting (By the way: Goodwill’s policy is to not take real fur, so this is quite a find!)…. which he commented looked nice (sold. must be a Goodwill sales plant.) Ummmm, did you really just pass up the opportunity to go on a date with an Italian accent? How very UN-euro of him to give up so easily. Humph, i'm personally insulted. You consider….this Italian did just follow you across town to Goodwill. Yes you did give up the opportunity, but C‘est la Vie as the French say. Wonder what the Italian’s say? Anyway, out of sight out of mind and continue onto to black faux fur coat. Ewww this sheds….
5. Wow there’s the advancing Italian again; he is back… You are annoyed, and scared of potential stalker, wondering if he broke into your car in the parking lot, but are admittedly flattered....because you are obviously insane....He asks for your phone number, saying to meet him for coffee or a drink sometime even if you do have a boyfriend. You had lied – you consider, he’s Euro and you find it appealing he does not take NO for an answer. Like a good European man, and a girl does like to be pursued. You might have just ovulated. (my foreshadow: it must be the sugar on his cookies.) But you think “This is just stalking dude! Get rid of him, girlfriend!”, and decide the only way to get rid of him is to give him a phone number, a wrong phone number. But in the middle of the phone number giving, and against your better judgement, while he’s typing into his…. Blackberry? (why does Italian stalker, potential kidney thief, have a Blackberry?)…right when you are about to switch the numbers like you always do, you decide, what the hell, I’ll give him the real one. Because he’s handsome. Yes he’s a stalker, but I have nothing to lose… Except kidneys which are used to process all that coffee you drink... You give him your real number. He has trouble putting it into his phone... Too many fives. But he makes sure to get it correct and takes the time to get your name correct. Wow he’s very cute really. Probably too cute actually. He must have a thousand women he's nailing. But you are flattered he made the effort to stalk you to Goodwill, and not take NO for an answer. Atleast this makes a good story.
He leaves, not buying those sheets.
6. The lesson learned at this point - an IF/THEN statement if you will:
If an Italian man flirts with you at Starbucks then follows you to goodwill, asks you for a date, you tell him you have a boyfriend, he tries again, THEN you always give him your real phone number.
He calls two days later. You do not call back. But your girlfriend B thinks it’s cute he followed you to Goodwill. "Plus he’s Italian", B says. Two days after that you call him back.
7. When an Italian man living in Seattle flirts with you in Starbucks, you ignore him, he then follows you to Goodwill , and asks for your phone number, give it to him. Because:
- he owns an Italian cookie company. Yes cookies. Italian.
- he’ll order oysters, plate and serve them to you.
- he’ll order a glass of Prosecco to go with the oysters. You'll love that.
- he is nice easy company. Intelligent, talkative but not overly so, but overly talented, overly accomplished (probably more than you are comfortable with), tells a good story, and isn't funny at all which is endearing.
- you figure he has both a million dollars and a million women.
- he induces ovulation: a lovely biological reaction of pheromones [dopamine: C6H3(OH)2-CH2-CH2-NH2] and sugar (C12H22O11) from his cookies. This is good for your current state of being.
- he tells you all night you are beautiful (more dopamine)
Yeah so go ahead, give him your phone number.
8. It must be the sugar in his cookies.
9. Less is more. Stick with that. When Italian asks you over for dinner on Saturday, tell him you have plans with your girlfriend and you are not available.
Elegance is Refusal.
10. What I learned last night: When an Italian man flirts with you at coffee shop, follows you to a secondhand store, asks for your phone number. GIVE IT TO HIM.
Saturday, January 24
What I Learned Last Night, Jan 23, Seattle
What I Learned Last Night.
1. My apt, although Persian lingerie pink, is certainly not as intoxicating as Scout's, apt 402, Scout throws a Go-Bama Inebriation Inauguration Party complete with sugar in both alcohol (C2H5OH) and cake form (C12H22O11 ).
2. Zig Zag Café is a Seattle Rite of Passage.
This Saturday a complied list of partiers, I mean Queen Anne Queen View apartment female dwellers, including Kelly, Mary and I are planning an outing to Zig Zag, Mary has just moved to town, from San Fran. Zig Zag is an obvious choice.. As it IS a Seattle institution there is NO DOUBT, and Mary must certainly get this checked-off of her list of "Rites of Passage in Seattle ". Murray, the barkeep’s, cocktails are infamous and Taa Die-Faaa….Certainly everyone has a zigzag story to tell…I’ll keep mine short - Mine being an Zig Zag evening of sparkling wine ending in the bachelor pad apt above Zig Zag, with a champagne carbonation CO2 contraption and thwarting and downright avoiding the advances of the tango dancer inventing this physics defying carbonation device (really it IS genius! I give him cred…) and inhabitant of the apartment. He is a lovely tango dancer though, and enjoying bubbly is a plus, but, me, I’m just another chick he’s brought up to this intoxicating apartment, situation. Errmmm.. no. I’m outta here.
But back to Mary and outing with Mary and Kelly. Only problem with ZigZag as an evening out with Queen Anne dwellers, is that unfortunately ZigZag requires driving, therefore no stumble back to apt… Kelly did suggest Sully’s (walk able), which I have not been but to. And there is Targy's as well, but that just makes Zig Zag that much more appealing!
3. Points of discussion for an evening out with those you do not know too well from your semi-shared living quarters include:
-Strategies on getting apartment manager to let us have rooftop access.
-Strategies on getting that #2 bus up the hill during the snow storm.
-Removing Top Pot Dough Nuts from the Queen Anne Hill because my rear end is growing down the back of my legs in such a way that I soon will not have to bend my knees to sit down.
-getting Targy's to carry a decent bottle of red. I mean really... And getting that frat guy with the Coors lite to not spill it on my leg when bartender is making last call. This making Zig Zag that much more appealing
-getting an apt wide- wireless Internet account
4. Yes Sarah maybe I can meet you up later tonight after this guy sends me home early. He apparently went for a bike ride today. This is wrong for me. Lemme share a quote, made famous by Sarah, and now infamous in my circle… "My favorite thing to do…Is NOT hiking.” Contrary to popular belief I like my men sans bike. I think I like them white and pudgy.
5. A good general rule: do not hang with a vegan when you proudly wear politically incorrect clothing items, in this case a rabbit fur coat, a recycled vintage 1970’s fashion. Lovely cropped coat with leather trim at the cuffs, snap button-up front, and leather trim defining the waist, with large collar and puffy sleeves. Really awesome. There is an argument to be made for this coat being politically and socially forgivable, as I did buy it secondhand at Goodwill, and it is late 1970’s vintage. It’s recycled; what more do you want? Taa Die Faaa!! Anyway regardless, if you’re into fur coats of any sort, even if recycled vintage from the 70’s and from Goodwill, you probably shouldn’t hang out with vegans. Who go for bike rides.
6. The only constant is change! Good bye my surrogate boyfriend Brenda. Wish you had a Y chromosome cuz we’d be perfect together.
7. Smashbox lip color "Starlite". It has changed my life.
1. My apt, although Persian lingerie pink, is certainly not as intoxicating as Scout's, apt 402, Scout throws a Go-Bama Inebriation Inauguration Party complete with sugar in both alcohol (C2H5OH) and cake form (C12H22O11 ).
2. Zig Zag Café is a Seattle Rite of Passage.
This Saturday a complied list of partiers, I mean Queen Anne Queen View apartment female dwellers, including Kelly, Mary and I are planning an outing to Zig Zag, Mary has just moved to town, from San Fran. Zig Zag is an obvious choice.. As it IS a Seattle institution there is NO DOUBT, and Mary must certainly get this checked-off of her list of "Rites of Passage in Seattle ". Murray, the barkeep’s, cocktails are infamous and Taa Die-Faaa….Certainly everyone has a zigzag story to tell…I’ll keep mine short - Mine being an Zig Zag evening of sparkling wine ending in the bachelor pad apt above Zig Zag, with a champagne carbonation CO2 contraption and thwarting and downright avoiding the advances of the tango dancer inventing this physics defying carbonation device (really it IS genius! I give him cred…) and inhabitant of the apartment. He is a lovely tango dancer though, and enjoying bubbly is a plus, but, me, I’m just another chick he’s brought up to this intoxicating apartment, situation. Errmmm.. no. I’m outta here.
But back to Mary and outing with Mary and Kelly. Only problem with ZigZag as an evening out with Queen Anne dwellers, is that unfortunately ZigZag requires driving, therefore no stumble back to apt… Kelly did suggest Sully’s (walk able), which I have not been but to. And there is Targy's as well, but that just makes Zig Zag that much more appealing!
3. Points of discussion for an evening out with those you do not know too well from your semi-shared living quarters include:
-Strategies on getting apartment manager to let us have rooftop access.
-Strategies on getting that #2 bus up the hill during the snow storm.
-Removing Top Pot Dough Nuts from the Queen Anne Hill because my rear end is growing down the back of my legs in such a way that I soon will not have to bend my knees to sit down.
-getting Targy's to carry a decent bottle of red. I mean really... And getting that frat guy with the Coors lite to not spill it on my leg when bartender is making last call. This making Zig Zag that much more appealing
-getting an apt wide- wireless Internet account
4. Yes Sarah maybe I can meet you up later tonight after this guy sends me home early. He apparently went for a bike ride today. This is wrong for me. Lemme share a quote, made famous by Sarah, and now infamous in my circle… "My favorite thing to do…Is NOT hiking.” Contrary to popular belief I like my men sans bike. I think I like them white and pudgy.
5. A good general rule: do not hang with a vegan when you proudly wear politically incorrect clothing items, in this case a rabbit fur coat, a recycled vintage 1970’s fashion. Lovely cropped coat with leather trim at the cuffs, snap button-up front, and leather trim defining the waist, with large collar and puffy sleeves. Really awesome. There is an argument to be made for this coat being politically and socially forgivable, as I did buy it secondhand at Goodwill, and it is late 1970’s vintage. It’s recycled; what more do you want? Taa Die Faaa!! Anyway regardless, if you’re into fur coats of any sort, even if recycled vintage from the 70’s and from Goodwill, you probably shouldn’t hang out with vegans. Who go for bike rides.
6. The only constant is change! Good bye my surrogate boyfriend Brenda. Wish you had a Y chromosome cuz we’d be perfect together.
7. Smashbox lip color "Starlite". It has changed my life.
Monday, January 19
What I Learned Last Night, Jan 16th Friday, Artemis Restaurant Seattle
WhatI Learned last night.
Garters are for Seducing Men.
1. Yes the first black American president is about to be sworn into office. But I’d like to take a moment to pay homage to something we all respect and appreciate. Obviously I speak of French lingerie. The beauty and construction of such are magnifique! You have to remember that for French women underwear is key. Let’s discuss a particular case of lovely French inspired undies, as worn by Sarah on Friday at Artemis restaurant in Seattle. No I will not be commenting on the food. Who cares about the food, when we have fancy women in fancy French style lingerie to discuss. Let's discuss Sarah, although I know I was doing very well in the lingerie department, and I have no doubts Becky had on a proper matching set as well. All fancy franchophile girls will. In this particular case Sarah was donning underwear that celebrated all that is Sarah's genetic legacy, the genetic code of shear Barbarella. Such underwear should not be worn under anything really. Under WHERE? Let me describe:
This was not your run-of-the-mill matching panty set, but an entire contraption; an architectural feat, if you will. A structured black lacey vintage-esque high-waisted panty complete with shaping metal boning, yes metal boning, hidden within the French seams (yes this is an actaul seam style) of the panty, with rouched elastic stocking hooks attached to matching thigh highs! Very fem-fetale. All hidden beneath this black wiggle style dress; you know the kind that won't allow you to breath in, and the kind of dress that makes man and lesbian alike salivate in anticipation of finding out what could be hidden underneath. Well Sarah did not disappoint. How did I see this? Well naturally she brought Becky and I to the girl’s restroom to show and tell, and as I said before this underwear should not be hidden. UnderWHere?! I mean really it had metal boning... in the panty!
I request some one establishes a fund to buy me this for my birthday. Who says I can’t get something out of this blog.
2. A dress makes no sense unless it makes men want to take it off you.
3. The trout and tri tip were very good.
Garters are for Seducing Men.
1. Yes the first black American president is about to be sworn into office. But I’d like to take a moment to pay homage to something we all respect and appreciate. Obviously I speak of French lingerie. The beauty and construction of such are magnifique! You have to remember that for French women underwear is key. Let’s discuss a particular case of lovely French inspired undies, as worn by Sarah on Friday at Artemis restaurant in Seattle. No I will not be commenting on the food. Who cares about the food, when we have fancy women in fancy French style lingerie to discuss. Let's discuss Sarah, although I know I was doing very well in the lingerie department, and I have no doubts Becky had on a proper matching set as well. All fancy franchophile girls will. In this particular case Sarah was donning underwear that celebrated all that is Sarah's genetic legacy, the genetic code of shear Barbarella. Such underwear should not be worn under anything really. Under WHERE? Let me describe:
This was not your run-of-the-mill matching panty set, but an entire contraption; an architectural feat, if you will. A structured black lacey vintage-esque high-waisted panty complete with shaping metal boning, yes metal boning, hidden within the French seams (yes this is an actaul seam style) of the panty, with rouched elastic stocking hooks attached to matching thigh highs! Very fem-fetale. All hidden beneath this black wiggle style dress; you know the kind that won't allow you to breath in, and the kind of dress that makes man and lesbian alike salivate in anticipation of finding out what could be hidden underneath. Well Sarah did not disappoint. How did I see this? Well naturally she brought Becky and I to the girl’s restroom to show and tell, and as I said before this underwear should not be hidden. UnderWHere?! I mean really it had metal boning... in the panty!
I request some one establishes a fund to buy me this for my birthday. Who says I can’t get something out of this blog.
2. A dress makes no sense unless it makes men want to take it off you.
3. The trout and tri tip were very good.
Thursday, January 15
What I learned Last Night, Jan 14 Wednesday, Murphy's Irish Pub
1) Sarah, knowing the lyrics to the Muffin Man by Frank Zappa, does indeed come in handy as trivial knowledge.
2) There are 12 countries in South America. Just like Ben said. While ingesting his third Boddingtons, an English beer. Ben is lookin a little thin these days. Ben also rolls with numerous women.
3) Fact: There are two types of people in this world: those that know who Ron Jeremy is and those who don't. Of course Murphy's Pub trivia night would require Ron Jeremy knowledge. Did Ron Jeremy really make an appearance in Reindeer Games? Really? Insert personal story about how you found out who Ron Jeremy is here. We all must have a personal story about finding out who Ron Jeremy is, yes? Mine tops yours I think. Ahhhh, the nostalgia.... (fade to story through cloudy squiggly lines...)
While in college working at Applebees (yes Applebees - the reason for me becoming a current Michael Pollan fan I am sure) Ron Jeremy rolls in with his posse. He and pose are seated at my table, in the bar section. At this time I had no idea who Ron Jeremy was, BUT literally EVERYONE in the restaurant did, except me. I knew something special was happening when the whispers and head turning and the pretending not to look or quietly listen kind of was thing going on, as well as when I attended to my non-Ron tables, they would ask me what he ordered and such. One of the other waiters had to explain it to me, who Ron Jeremy was, what he did to pay his bills, with colorful details of not only films but also a complete description of length and girth, with many superlatives and use of the English measurement system in feet and inches. Needless to say I was impressed, and knew I had to pull out my finest Applebees waitress skills, developed over three days of rigorous training, for my celebrity and nature-defying guest (1 foot and 2 inches of english measurement was it, no?).
Ron's posse, consists of Ron, one white guy, and two women - one very very large with a shirt cut low enough over the breasts to shyly expose her sweetly subtle Winnie the Poo tattoo, the other an ultra skinny cracked-out white chick. I only remember the following: the skinny crack chick orders french fries and a chocolate peanut butter milk shake. Applebees makes these the best. Ron Jeremy ordered the Bourbon Street Steak, medium, a classic Applebees dish served sizzling on one of those fajita platters. When I came to the table Ron put his hand on my shoulder and yes I noticed how large his fingers were, and he called me "Honey", which I thought was quit the compliment coming from Ron himself. I missed the rest of the conversation, but while delivering food to Ron's table, the white guy did say "Did you use a condom that time?" to Ron. Ron paid for the entire meal but tipped very poorly. I thought I was his honey? I later learned while seeing the movie PornStar featuring Ron Jeremy that he's a total cheap skate, won't even buy a set of luggage but rather uses garbage bags for business travel. So I now feel honored that he tipped me at all, reviving that deep feeling that truly I am Ron Jeremy's Honey.
4) A Sonoma Cabernet by the bottle is inevitably better than ANY wine by the glass. Especially at Murphy’s pub.
5) Ah yes, zee fastest flying bird izz the Peregrine falcon, not some owl or house sparrow or hummingbird. We too thought it was either an African or European Sparrow laden.
6) All menu items on the Murphy’s Pub Le Menu are classic pub fare. First, either put into pie form or breaded, then deep friend then subsequently drowned in pasteurized cheese product. All menu items except the Japanese edamame! An obvious snack option on the irish pub menu.
7) I always like guys who pull off the armchair Sherlock Holmes impression while drinking a proper catholic, not protestant, scotch.
8) In attempt to entertain ourselves during this trivia evening Sarah and I knocked back two, maybe three drinks, and decided that, come Friday we will don pink wigs in an attempt to throw our friend john furious for a loop?
9) I successfully avoided the Century Ballroom and any possible birthday dances involving X boyfriends, although this tears my soul.
10) Murphy's Irish pub is a Seattle institution for a reason
2) There are 12 countries in South America. Just like Ben said. While ingesting his third Boddingtons, an English beer. Ben is lookin a little thin these days. Ben also rolls with numerous women.
3) Fact: There are two types of people in this world: those that know who Ron Jeremy is and those who don't. Of course Murphy's Pub trivia night would require Ron Jeremy knowledge. Did Ron Jeremy really make an appearance in Reindeer Games? Really? Insert personal story about how you found out who Ron Jeremy is here. We all must have a personal story about finding out who Ron Jeremy is, yes? Mine tops yours I think. Ahhhh, the nostalgia.... (fade to story through cloudy squiggly lines...)
While in college working at Applebees (yes Applebees - the reason for me becoming a current Michael Pollan fan I am sure) Ron Jeremy rolls in with his posse. He and pose are seated at my table, in the bar section. At this time I had no idea who Ron Jeremy was, BUT literally EVERYONE in the restaurant did, except me. I knew something special was happening when the whispers and head turning and the pretending not to look or quietly listen kind of was thing going on, as well as when I attended to my non-Ron tables, they would ask me what he ordered and such. One of the other waiters had to explain it to me, who Ron Jeremy was, what he did to pay his bills, with colorful details of not only films but also a complete description of length and girth, with many superlatives and use of the English measurement system in feet and inches. Needless to say I was impressed, and knew I had to pull out my finest Applebees waitress skills, developed over three days of rigorous training, for my celebrity and nature-defying guest (1 foot and 2 inches of english measurement was it, no?).
Ron's posse, consists of Ron, one white guy, and two women - one very very large with a shirt cut low enough over the breasts to shyly expose her sweetly subtle Winnie the Poo tattoo, the other an ultra skinny cracked-out white chick. I only remember the following: the skinny crack chick orders french fries and a chocolate peanut butter milk shake. Applebees makes these the best. Ron Jeremy ordered the Bourbon Street Steak, medium, a classic Applebees dish served sizzling on one of those fajita platters. When I came to the table Ron put his hand on my shoulder and yes I noticed how large his fingers were, and he called me "Honey", which I thought was quit the compliment coming from Ron himself. I missed the rest of the conversation, but while delivering food to Ron's table, the white guy did say "Did you use a condom that time?" to Ron. Ron paid for the entire meal but tipped very poorly. I thought I was his honey? I later learned while seeing the movie PornStar featuring Ron Jeremy that he's a total cheap skate, won't even buy a set of luggage but rather uses garbage bags for business travel. So I now feel honored that he tipped me at all, reviving that deep feeling that truly I am Ron Jeremy's Honey.
4) A Sonoma Cabernet by the bottle is inevitably better than ANY wine by the glass. Especially at Murphy’s pub.
5) Ah yes, zee fastest flying bird izz the Peregrine falcon, not some owl or house sparrow or hummingbird. We too thought it was either an African or European Sparrow laden.
6) All menu items on the Murphy’s Pub Le Menu are classic pub fare. First, either put into pie form or breaded, then deep friend then subsequently drowned in pasteurized cheese product. All menu items except the Japanese edamame! An obvious snack option on the irish pub menu.
7) I always like guys who pull off the armchair Sherlock Holmes impression while drinking a proper catholic, not protestant, scotch.
8) In attempt to entertain ourselves during this trivia evening Sarah and I knocked back two, maybe three drinks, and decided that, come Friday we will don pink wigs in an attempt to throw our friend john furious for a loop?
9) I successfully avoided the Century Ballroom and any possible birthday dances involving X boyfriends, although this tears my soul.
10) Murphy's Irish pub is a Seattle institution for a reason
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