when discussing lunch

A strawberry and a honeydew were in love and wanted to get married but none of their friends or family were supportive so the strawberry suggested eloping and the honeydew said, "We cantaloupe! They'd think we were bananas!"

No holes barred and other moments of honesty

Last night I went to dinner at this really hip place in Hell's Kitchen with overpriced seafood and even more overpriced whiskey. It was really delicious, and I was enjoying the company of an old college friend I haven't seen since March, so that was nice; however, the whole experience was made all the brighter by the presence of our server, who was really, really cute.

I never blog about cute boys, so bear with me here because I do have a point. He was tall and fit and had dark curly hair and cute eyes and a sweet smile. I thought he may have been eye-flirting with me, but I always think guys with bouncy eyes are eye-flirting with me. It's also entirely possible that he may have been gay. My gaydar is all fucked up in this city.*

Since I felt that he may have found me just as cute as I found him, I decided to make my affection known. I left him a note on my credit card receipt. I've done this once before, a couple summers ago when I was living in Atlanta and had a really cute waiter, but nothing came of it. And since I'm now taking charge of my life and turning over a new leaf, I see no reason not to put myself out there in every possible way. I really have nothing to lose.

So my note went something like this.

The real thing was a lot more legible. It's hard to try to replicate handwriting on a computer, OK?!

The amazing thing about New York is that there are actually entire venues aimed specifically at helping people find other people they wanted to connect with but for whatever reason could not. I love reading through the missed connections on Craigslist - it's just an endless list of hopeless romantics wanting to feel a real connection with other people. I would love to know if anyone has ever actually met his/her future husband/wife on there. Because that would pretty much make my life.

My friend from college said the one thing that struck him most about New York was that there seemed to be literally endless possibilities. You never know who you will meet, or what you will do, or where the day will take you. I agreed with him, and said that it's one of the things I love most about the city. You might wake up feeling like shit, and then later that night leave a note for your cute waiter who then googles your name and finds out you have a blog on which you wrote about him, then he comments on said blog and tells you he thinks you're cute too with a link to his blog, which you find hilarious and amazing, and then you go on a date and fall in love and have lots of sex and babies.

Or maybe you just made a gay guy feel even better about himself. The universe is full of snark.


*To understand why, see this.

Freezing with a chance of ice(e)

The highlight of my trip to Chicago last week for Wanksgiving may have been our trip to the movies, which included a gluttonous purchase of the number one combo - a large beverage and large popcorn with bottomless refills. On the heels of this news story that came out last week, ordering said combo - called "co-stars" or something equally if not more cheesy - seemed like an amazing idea; and when we spotted the Icee machine behind the concession stand, we knew we were done for.

When the concession worker slid the Icee across the counter to us, C and I literally burst into laughter at the sheer cartoonishness of its size. The popcorn was appropriately sized for a large, but the Icee, which had to have been at least 32 oz., was completely absurd. So of course we had to document it.






































I mean honestly. Both the popcorn and the Icee are taller than my head. Fortunately, the name of theater chain at which we partook of The Blind Side (blind side note: the film was OK, not great, but 'twas a fun reminder of Ole Miss and hot Southern men) will forever remain a mystery, as we made sure to pose super covertly to protect it from years of embarrassment.

Small (fat) signs from the universe

I got this e-mail recently.















Even my insurance company thinks I'm fat. I mean, true, the skinnier and healthier I am, the less they have to pay to take care of my fat ass - you know, pesky medical bills associated with stroke, heart attack, large FUPA, etc. - so it could totally be a selfishly motivated e-mail.

But still, damn. I get it, universe. Stop eating candy at work. Stop eating wings at football games. Stop eating pizza on pub crawls. And for Christ's sake. Stop. drinking. so. much. In my defense, I haven't had a burger in months. Well, maybe like uh month.

Mmmmmm burger. Lunch time!

Tex Mex Epix

Yesterday as the work day was winding to a close, Z and I were chatting online and I expressed my sudden-onset desire for post-work chips and dip. Not like potato chips and french onion dip (though right now that sounds amazing) but like corn chips and thick, gooey, amazing cheese dip--the kind you can only get at faux-Mexican restaurants in the South.

I live in Spanish Harlem now, and I've eaten at a few restaurants there, and while the food is AMAZING and fresh and authentically Mexican, there's nothing quite like a heaping bowl of queso. Unsure of where else to go for this Southern delight, I googled Moe's and found that there is only one in Manhattan. So after work, Z and I ventured to the East Village for a friendly, "Welcome to Moe's!" and lots of delish Tex Mex.

Upon Z's insisting, I ordered the "bowl" instead of the "cup" of queso, which turned out to be (as I predicted) way too much. Or just the right amount, depending on how you look at it. We had about half the bowl left, which of course I bagged up with an assload of tortilla chips and took home with me.

Epic

All in all, an amazing, gluttonous meal. To make up for the 234098239048 calories we consumed, Z and I walked from 21st to 86th street. Yep, 65 blocks. That's 3.2 miles for those of you who are interested. It took about an hour and 15 minutes, and it was totally worth the time. We saw lots of cute restaurants and bars and puppehs and all that stuff you see when you walk around Manhattan. We stopped at 86th, about 10 blocks short of East Harlem, because my hips started hurting.

In short, I am fat and old.

Until next time.

Pastadentally yours

Sorry I've been so sucky at posting lately. This week has actually been crazy busy. Monday and Tuesday were each an odd combination of slow and ridiculously busy. We had our longest editorial meeting since I've been there yesterday--over an hour. Ah! Then I rushed out the door to take an advanced beginner jazz class at Broadway Dance Center. Yes, it was a lot a lot of fun. But those classes are really expensive, so I'm going to have to limit how many I take. Maybe one every few weeks or so.

Anyway, then I got up pretty early this morning to meet with a health insurance rep to discuss my options. I'm currently uninsured and have been since I moved up here. My parents are both pretty passionate about making sure I have some sort of coverage until I get a job with benefits, so they've been wanting me to look at my options. So I talked with this guy for almost two hours and learned a lot about health insurance; it was actually really informative, despite the fact that he was trying to sell me something. Now I know more about HMOs and POSes than I ever wanted to know. No, not that kind of POS. Lolz.

Then I got home and took a nap, and while I was asleep for about an hour I got three work e-mails, including one that said I have three stories due in the next two weeks. Umm what! Ah! So then I spent the afternoon setting up interviews and stuff. Sigh. I love journalism. I really, really do. I love reporting and finding out information and writing. I just love it. When I have moments like that, where I remember why I'm up here trying to pursue this career, it makes all the hard stuff worth it.

Now to the main point of this post. I made pasta for dinner tonight, and it was UHMAZING. I was sauteeing veggies in a pink sauce and I accidentally dumped a lot of black pepper in. At first I was like, well shit I ruined my sauce, but then I just stirred it around and hoped for the best. This was the result.

Iz delicious. Eat me. twss

Recipe for deliciousness:
Whole wheat pasta
Red sauce
Alfredo sauce
Lots of black pepper
Some crushed red pepper (I did five shakes)
Sauteed veggies (I used red bell pepper, yellow bell pepper, and onion)

It basically ended up being a Cajun pasta. I think it would also be amazing with some kind of sausage or ground meat in it. It's quite spicy, so if you don't like that kinda stuff, then pass. But OMG so. good. nomnomnomnom

Sigh. Full belly.
Until next time.