Dinner on the Terrace?

It’s hard to plan a good dinner party in the age of Facebook.

We’re all so carefully casual about our plans. Cell phones have taught us everything can be last minute—a quick text directs your friend to “meet us here” or “I’m running late.” Facebook has taught us that every occasion is best RSVPed to with a “Maybe Attending.”

So I plan not a real dinner party—“just a few people over for wine and food” and get a few positives and a handful of “Maybe Attendings” in return.

Then there’s the menu. Hard to plan without a certain guest list, but the main problem here, for me, at least, is overstimulation. I’m surrounded by food porn—glowing from the TV, a click away on the internet, making me drool from the glossy pages of cookbooks, which I’ve started checking out of the library (even memoirs are trending towards food porn these days). I don’t know where to begin. Simple, tried-and-true recipe or something new, complicated, dazzling (as long as it turns out, that is)? Exotic or plain (really depends on the crowd)? Indian, Cajun, Italian (depressingly, I have a friend who doesn’t like cheese), Tapas, French, Asian, Moroccan, Noveau-American?

Tonight, I’m thinking something light, summer fare. Maybe an array of appetizers (starting with bruschetta, of course) followed by a light, citrusy spinach salad with chicken. Washed down by a couple liters of wine.

Then again, there’s that lamb dish I’ve been longing to try. I’ve never cooked lamb before.

Adventures of Me and Mii Boy

I have just returned from a midday Starbucks/mail run. I don't go to Starbucks often, as I am neither a coffee person nor idependently wealthy. But today I had a hankerin' to go- mostly because I was bored, I think- and I have returned with this delicious concoction called a "Tall Mocha Skinny Latte" which only has ninety calories. Score!

At the Starbucks, I stood in line next to a girl who is the spitting image of what I imagine Joanna Gleason would look like if she were my age and a hipster. I sort of wanted to become friends with this girl but instead I just gave her a couple of quick glances before falling in love with my latte and forgetting all about her.

En route to the Starbucks, I had my second conversation ever with the building's 'concierge' (this is, apparently, his official title) who has hair like a Mii character and always dresses in somber-colored suits and brightly colored ties. From that description alone, it is probably easy for any observant reader to deduce that I have quite the crush on this kid.

Our conversation went like this:

Mii Boy: Hi. How can I help you?
Me: CJ asked me to drop this off for you? It's our 1099?
Mii Boy: Oh. Thanks.
Me: You're welcome.
Mii Boy: Want to run away to a tropical beach somewhere and drink lots of red wine together?
Me: Yes, please.

All of that is true, except the last two lines.

Jammin' Pizza

So, I have a small collection of homemade jams/jellies right now, since I did a bunch of canning when I was back in Maryland for Thanksgiving Break. My love of canning is another reason why New York City and I are probably not meant for a lifetime commitment. Anyway, I made Pomegranate, a recipe I have tried before, to great success, and a new recipe for Apricot Pepper Jelly.

Apricot Pepper Jelly is the most delicious thing I have ever made with my own two hands and, as a result, I want to eat it on EVERYTHING. The latest discovery? Jam Pizza.

Recipe for Jam Pizza is as follows:

- Get some pizza crust like substance. Various forms of pita or flatbread will suffice.
- Lightly coat with olive oil. Broil...or, whatever you do with pizza. I broil.
- Spread Apricot Pepper Jelly on crust. There is no such thing as too much jam on this pizza, but you don't want to run out like some people (me), so use sparingly.
- Spread pizza sauce on top of Jelly. Favorite sauce thus far is a Spicy Tomato Basil by Classico.
- Add toppings. Any will do. I have tried: red peppers, meatless crumbles, and chickpeas.
- Sprinkle cheese on top. Main coat of cheese should be a general pizza cheese: italian mix or just mozzarella. Then sprinkle some gouda on for extra deliciousness.
- Sprinkle pizza with cinnamon and paprika. Broil until it looks done.

I am assuming other jams can be used as well, or there would be little point in my sharing this (rather imprecise) recipe.


In other news:
- On the paper writing front: I look like I am surrounded by the remnants of a book tornado. I cannot wait to be done this paper, and yet I want time to stretch out, giving me as many minutes as possible to complete my task.
- On strange, paperwriting malaise: I have cried twice today already. Once because I caught the last five minutes of Life is Beautiful during my lunch break. Once because of something I read in The Amber Spyglass during another break. While this may sound like I spend most of my day taking breaks and crying, I assure you this is not true.

Too Young to Be Consumed By Ravenous Market Analysts

The pizza order for lunch today is almost a half an hour late. The employees are restless, circling the office, dodging in and out of the kitchen every five minutes. The grumblings of discontent and empty stomachs fill the air.

If they break...if they turn to cannabilism in their desperation...I will be the first to go. I'm the temp, they don't know me as well as they know each other. I'm utterly replaceable. Plus I'm plump and delicious looking.

Meanwhile, I am one of the few employees who took the healthy option today and ordered a salad. It's already here. It's pretty scrumptious, containing roasted cauliflower, sweet potatoes, blue cheese, walnuts, apples, and beets. The fact that I am one of the chosen few whose lunch has already been delivered can only fuel the ire against me. Plus, I'm sure it's making me more delicious with every bite I take.

Terrible Tuesday...

I'm updating data from a spreadsheet today. I am on entry 90 out of 889. I want to die. And working at the computer makes my back hurt. Why is it that recreational computer using-- blogging, emailing, whatever-- from my home doesn't hurt at all, but using the computer for work hurts like nothin' else?

One of the great mysteries of life.

Right now I am listening to free broadway radio online. It's kind of like I made myself an awesome mix CD and included things I didn't even know (mostly good, a couple bad). Yay!

I could kill someone for a diet soda right now. Or I could just go take a free one from the fridge where I'm working. But I'm trying to give up soda, so I'm drinking water and green tea instead. Pretty much, I feel like I'm trying to give up everything...first the vegetarianism, now I'm dallying with veganism. I don't intend on ever actually being a vegan-- mostly because I love cheese-- I'm just going to lessen the non-vegan stuff I eat. Pretty much because I keep reading horror stories about the meat and dairy industries. Maybe I should just give up the reading and eat whatever I want. An interesting idea.

For Lizzie

or why perhaps i shouldn't post frequently...

So, I love bananas. They are one of my favorite fruits. But the problem with bananas is they have a very small window of edibility. You buy bananas, you wait and wait and wait for them to get ripe enough, then they are perfectly ripe for less than 48 hours before becoming overripe. Silly bananas.

In other news, the theater where I am working right now is practically on porn alley-- there are a lot of peep show palaces and X rated film shops about. Every day, on my way home from work, I pass a guy in a big sign reading "Private Eyes." And I keep thinking to myself: Odd. I mean, how many people are walking along the street thinking, man, I need a good Private Investigator right now. And then last night, I noticed under, in smaller letters "adult entertainment club." Ah. That makes more sense.

I remember when back cracking was a foreign activity to me. Now I do it all the time. I am creaky. Old and creaky.

Why I Will Never Truly 'Fit In' In New York City

So, it is someone's birthday today, at the office I am temping at for almost two months. So they ordered a cake from a NYC bakery (which generally means delicious). A German chocolate cake. Now, I have recently discovered that I am a big fan of German Chocolate Cake (Chocolate. Almost Too-Sweet Icing. Coconut. Nuts. What's not to love?), but I understand it's not everyone's cup of tea. It's not the generic, plain-jane kind of cake you order if you want to please absolutely everyone. So, you would expect a couple of people to turn it down, based on that fact alone.

I am the only woman in the office eating this free cake. The only one.

I have a checklist for occasions like this.

The Free Cake Checklist:
Is it free? Yes.
Is it cake? Yes.

I'm sold.

(Technically, I often follow up with:
Does it have onions in it? Of course not, it's cake.
Is it carrot cake? No.)

But these women- these rail-thin, glamorously dressed women- don't even look twice at the exciting, individually-plated delciousness that is free cake. I'm beginning to think they aren't human. I saw the knife one girl used to cut the cake lying in the sink afterwards...entirely covered with icing and cake. How can you not swipe a finger across that knife and indulge in just a taste of icing? That's not normal.

I allow for the fact that one or two might not like German chocolate cake. But all of them? No way.

Anyway, another fun fact about my office: I have worn variations of the same clothes the entire time I've worked here (13 days now). The same pair of black pumps. The same black skirt for, I think, 10/13 days. Either my black cardigan or my black blazer every day.

I'm a temp. I only have so many outfits.

Now back to my fabulous FREE CAKE.

That's right. It's free. And it's cake.

After the OK Go/Snow Patrol concert...

Reasons Damian Kulash might be my soulmate (despite the fact that wikipedia, holder of all knowledge, tells me he is married):
1. He graduated from Brown University (I wanted to attend Brown University for graduate school).
2. He is 7 years older than me (my Dad is 7 years older than my Mom).
3. He is built just the way I like 'em (tall, skinny, dark and messy hair, pale, soulful eyes...nose could be bigger, but is still a respectable size).
4. Umm...his name is Damian Kulash (self-explanatory).
5. He knows who Terrence Mann is (read an interview where he says Terrence Mann should play Annie in the next revival).
6. He has an obvious propensity towards paisley.
7. He used to work for NPR.
8. He is a fabulous rockstar with a fabulous voice. And he is funny.
9. He is NOT (thank god) a Virgo.


In other news...
It is perhaps possible to resist a cupcake. It is perhaps possible to even resist a Magnolia cupcake. It is in no way possible to resist a Magnolia chocolate cupcake with purple icing at 1AM when you have four hours of homework ahead of you. Mmmm...so delicious...

Deep? I am the poetry club.

Feminism be damned, I want a man to cook for.

Or, to not end with a preposition: A man for whom I can cook. Which sounds dumb.

Also, according to my roommates, I am the only person in NYC who makes casseroles.

Lately, I think mostly as a procrastination tool, I have been doing a lot of cooking. I like casseroles because they fulfill my need to cook while only utilizing the bare minimum of dishes. As much as I love to cook, I hate to wash dishes (in fact, we almost started World War III and a health hazard in our apartment senior year of college because none of use liked to do dishes). My two most recent culinary experiments have been a Moussaka casserole and Sundried Tomato Potato Gratin. Any recipe with rhyming words is fine and delicious by me.

I watched 'John Tucker Must Die' tonight, while compiling notes on the reception history and criticism of Edna St. Vincent Millay's sonnet 'I shall forget you presently'. I found this teen movie much less satisfying than '10 Things I Hate About You'.

It had a few good lines, however. Including: 'Dude. I'm deep. I'm dating the poetry club.'

Dude.

Tasty AND Delicious

I am currently devouring (but in a delicate, feminine fashion, I assure you), the world's best lunch: Harvest Pumpkin Soup from Au Bon Pain (and yes, I did just look on my Au Bon Pain bag to see how to spell that, because it seems wrong that bread, the best thing in the world, should be spelled P-A-I-N) and Chicken Curry Salad with mango, apple, coconut and currants from Karen's on Astor.

Yes, this dream lunch did require me to walk a multi-block circuit. But it is totally worth it.

Everybody wants to rule the world...

I am at work for another half an hour. Today, it's a big private investing firm on Park Ave. with lovely fountains outside. The kitchen is extremely well-stocked...for lunch, I had a salad with avocado, tomato, blackened chicken, bleu cheese...and fresh mango! And fabulous snacks- yogurts and candy and pita chips. If I didn't have somewhere to go after work tonight, I'd probably rob the place blind.

I am so bored. The phone has not made a peep in the past two hours.

Yesterday, I spent a great day in the city with one of my roommates. We started out with lunch at Max Brenner's. Max Brenner may be my soulmate- he has my exact views on life, writing and chocolate. The food was absolutely divine. I had the dark chocolat drink (their specialty- it is hot chocolate served light and foamy, like cappucino, in what is called a 'hug mug') and a sweet potato crepe. My roommate had a mocha drink (served in a similar frothy fashion) and the salmon quiche. Di-vine.

While still enjoying our chocolate high, we went shoe shopping (more shoes...but I NEEDED them for work) and bought the rest of my books at the NYU bookstore.

I am starting to be a little nervous about my grad classes. Some of my books are scary. The readings I have to do for the first class of Seduction in the Age of Revolution are scary. I am worried that everyone will be smarter than me, and that is also- you guessed it- scary. I've always been smart English girl. If everyone else is smart English...how do I compete? And by compete, I mean win...

Tonight we are going out to Dallas BBQ in the Village, and I expect to meet a lot of my roommates' friends. Yay! Other plans for this weekend: none. So far. I'm almost afraid to do much, since I know that once classes start, I will never rest again...

Look at what the dog is refusing to drag in...

Tonight I joined two lovely young men for dinner at the Shake Shack in Madison Square Park. I had a chocolate shake (which I’ve been craving for about a week now- I think ever since I watched the scary Johnny Depp and the Chocolate Factory movie) and a burger. Shake Shack does their burgers California style. The jury is still out on what that actually means.

Anyway, it was delicious and lovely to sit out in the park, devouring burgers and chatting. We washed the whole thing down with slurpees from what is, apparently, the only 7-11 in the city. The evening ended up on their beautiful terrace overlooking the Empire State Building, the Chrysler building, and two other big tall beautiful buildings, where we saw five rare stars in the Manhattan sky and discussed such burning issues as coffee snobbery (will people look down on you if you bring a 7-11/Dunkin Donuts cup into work instead of Starbucks), television (and excitement over the new Aaron Sorkin show), and random NYC trivia (the smallest county in the country is New York County, a.k.a Manhattan).

I.love.this.city.

I’m still unemployed, a fact that is probably apparent from my posting at 1:30 in the morning. Nothing to get up for tomorrow. In fact, I may read a little before bed, too. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, people who won’t employ me.

Not that I’m desperate or anything. I started my job search on Sunday evening. It is now Wednesday evening. I quit my old job two Fridays ago. This is exactly eleven days that I’ve been out of work. Hardly a significant number.

The thing that gets me the most is the dog-walking companies. I really want to be a dog-walker. They make decent money, I could do it before classes, I could take an evening job still if I needed to, plus I would totally lose weight. What more could I want? But these dog-walking jobs do not come easy. They want cover letters and resumes and references and experience.

Hi. I graduated Summa Cum Laude. I am very smart. I am in the process of obtaining my master’s degree. I like dogs just fine. I have two years of excellent and irrelevant office experience. I ran a half-marathon in March. Please let me walk your dogs.

Weekend Revue

1- Sac's Place

I visited this Italian restaurant with my family and all the roommates (future and present). They're famous for their coal-oven pizza (I tried my sister's and it was delicious). Everything was good: my French Kiss martini, the hot antipasta appetizer, and my pepper and mozzarella ravioli. The only thing lacking was my birthday tiramisu, which was round and liquidy. Will definitely be walking to this Astoria restaurant in the future to pick up some pizza.

2- The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

Our cheap tickets from the TKTs booth turned out to be very good seats (second row). This show was hi-larious. The best part: my sister was one of the audience members chosen as a bee participant. She spent at least half an hour onstage and, despite her horrendous spelling, got 'indigent' right. Also,
Barrett Foa, who I also saw as Princeton in Avenue Q, is my new, probably gay, celebrity boyfriend.

3- Aliada's

My first authentic Greek restaurant. Now that I live on the edge of Astoria, there are sure to be many more. I tried the Mousaka, which is what lasagna would be if the Greeks had invented it instead of the Italians. It was good but...weird. My fabulous married friends, visiting from New Haven, had the Greek Mixed Grill. Too much meat but all of it very tasty, especially the goat cheese and pork. Delish (I've been saying this 'word' a lot lately, I figure I may as well write it).

4- The Fantasticks

I was definitely spoiling myself with two shows in one weekend- I'm pretty sure this will never happen again. My high school performed The Fantasticks during my sophmore year; I had vague but pleasant memories of it. The show only opened four days ago, but it had everything together. I loved the cast and the simple staging of the production. I'm at an age in my life where I feel this show should be very relevant- it's about growing up and relating to the world. I think. In all honesty, I'm not sure exactly what the intended message of the show is...but I enjoyed it!

5- Rice to Riches

When my roommate said we were going for rice pudding, I was skeptical. I do not remember ever really liking rice pudding. She promised I would, once I tried this rice pudding. This was the Cold Stone of rice puddings. And it was absolutely terrific. I tried the tiramisu with whipped cream on top. And the store itself is adorable, filled with signs saying such things as "We Have a Deal with the Bank- They Don't Serve Rice Pudding and We Don't Cash Checks" and "Eat as Much Rice Pudding as You Want- You're Already Fat". Also delish.

Summary of Revue: I loved everything.

Weird Like Me

Note before I officially begin post: Something in my office smells like baby formula. There are no babies here. Conclusion: Someone's lunch smells like baby formula. Why would anyone eat something that smells like baby formula?

I've gotten stranger since I left college. Maybe even since I moved out of my parents' house one year after college. Strange in a I-role-play-on-the-weekends-wanna-see-my-Magic-cards kind of way. Except I don't roleplay. What I do is watch the Sci-Fi channel. Some of it. Like Firefly reruns, Battlestar Galactica (which I'm pretty much obsessed with), and the occasional Doctor Who.

And I've started reading paranormal romances. Which basically means vampires and anyone other supernatural being that happens to be befriending the vampires.

I haven't been too worried about this outlandish behavior, as my college roommate (who, ahem, needs to start posting again) independently took up Sci-Fi and vamps around the same time.

Turns out, however, it's just college grads in the suburbs of Bmore who are getting stranger. It's everyone! Paranormal romance is the new pink. It isn't just that, now that I read vampire romances, I suddenly see them popping up everywhere...they really are popping up everywhere. Which just proves that America obsesses over strange things...and now I'll probably grow bored of the entire thing.

For instance: I read everything about the Titanic disaster I could get my hands on until the movie came out and the market was flooded with an overabundance of Titanic books. Then I lost interest.

Anyway, if you wish to be inducted into the vamp-romance phenomenon, I have a few recommendations:

1)Dead Until Dark by Charlaine Harris
This is the series that got me hooked. Harris creates a world where, thanks to synthetic blood, vampires and humans can peacefully co-exist. Her heroine, Sookie Stackhouse, is so great that HBO is creating a television series about her. My former roomie prefers the Mary Janice Davidson books, but I think the Southern Vampire series is much smarter and more engaging.

2) Happy Hour at Casa Dracula by Marta Acosta
This is a fun, chick-lit type vampire romance only recently released. I found it made an excellent beach read. Check out a full review here.

3) Guilty Pleasures by Laurell K. Hamilton
I've only read the first chapter of this book (so take this recommendation with a grain of salt), but I've been trying to get ahold of the book ever since. Hamilton is, apparently, the Queen of the Undead books, so it should be pretty good. If I ever get it.

And if you want to get into Battlestar Galactica before the start of Season 3 in October, get going...there's a lot of space fighting to frakkin' get through! Though I'm pretty sure once I got hooked it only took me about two weeks to catch up. Yup, I'm a big, strange geek. And lovin' every minute of it.

Debate for an Icecream

Back from the beach: tanned, blonde and fat.

Every year I go to the beach with my mother's side of the family. Every year I walk on the beach, do some running (my cousins are exhaustingly athletic), and swim a lot. And every year I come back a couple of pounds heavier.

Why? Because we are food-pushers. We are a family of food-pushers (this term coined by my cousin's boyfriend).

At the beach, there are big breakfasts and lunches and dinners and cocktail hours (that go on for several) and lots of chips and cookies. How can a little bit of swimming against the current compete with all that?

I went down there, carrying a few extra pounds from the European cruise still, determined not to gain any weight. I would eat like a normal person and not be victimized by the food-pushing.

But then I got to thinking about how poor I am going to be once I move to NYC...shouldn't I eat now while I still can?

Now that I'm back on terra firma, I've picked up morning runs and a lot less food (partly because I can't actually afford to buy food but running is free). I want to be at least one step closer to svelte when I move. I want to be an attractive and elegant New Yorker. I also want the wardrobe department from some major television show set in NYC (Friends...Sex and the City...) to redo my closet.

So I have to lose a bit of weight and gain a bit of style before the big move (26 days!!!).

But one of my co-workers won free icecream for the entire office. From Maggie Moo's, which I've never had, but I've heard good things about.

How can I turn down free icecream? I won't be able to afford ANY icecream once I move to NYC!

The Myth of the Stray Eyebrow Hair

This weekend, I had the closest thing I have to a recent ex over to my house.

No big deal. We’re friends. We’ve worked very hard to be friends (at least I have) (though, as that last parenthesis may have hinted, I still maintain a very slight amount of hostility). He’s been to my house before. He helped me make my bed once (I am an appalling bed maker and always try to have someone on hand to help out).

But for some reason, because he was coming, the house- at least my part of it- had to be spotless. Sheets cleaned. Bed made. Floor vacuumed. Laundry folded. Cat brushed. Bathroom scrubbed. Because nothing says, “Gee, you shouldn’t have broken my heart” like a spotless shower. Nothing makes a guy think, “Wow, I should have become really, really rich and offered to marry this girl and make children with her- shit” like a lint-free comforter.

It’s sort of like when you’re getting ready to go out and you notice a stray eyebrow hair that MUST GO before you leave the house. No one is going to notice this hair. No one cares. But in your mind, it’s huge. And it could be the one thing separating you from eternal happiness.

I mean what if- WHAT IF- you are sitting at a bar next to Mr. Perfect and he smiles at you and you smile back and he’s considering buying you a drink and whisking you away to Bermuda for a midnight ceremony on his private beach when he notices the eyebrow hair. And then it’s all over. And you’re stuck buying your own drinks while the girl down the bar with the slutty tank top and the butter face gets your drink and your midnight marriage.

At least that’s the way my mind works. But then, generally, I'm running late (because I'm always running late), so I just leave the hair.

In other news, I started a new diet yesterday. I haven’t dieted in a long, long time. I gave it up because it no longer felt healthy. But now I’m back. Because for me…dieting is kind of like a religion. Maybe that’s not quite right, but I like how it sounds. One of the characters in Francine Prose’s ‘Bigfoot Dreams’, which is the novel I am using for my final paper on the Absurd, diets all the time, and I’m writing about how she’s trying to find meaning in her life through dieting.

Which makes perfect sense. Because with dieting, you have a clear goal and a way to achieve that goal. That can be said about so little in life. That’s why, even when you fail, there is a satisfaction to dieting. Because so often, you can see why you failed (chocolate and beer, for instance). And you can blame yourself for everything that went wrong. Not some strange twist of fate. Not God. If a diet goes wrong, it’s just you who gets to shoulder the blame. I like that.

Really, if we're looking at shouldering the blame for what does and does not happen, it's my fault I'm not getting midnight marriage proposals. I should have plucked that stray eyebrow hair.

Anyway, I won’t be blogging obsessively about the diet here, because I started a new blog just for that purpose. It’s linked, if you want to check it out.

Poverty and the Single Girl...

I don't know who decided to let me out into the real world with my own credit card (two in fact), a vehicle, and the desire to spend, spend, spend. But it was a bad idea. They should put me back.

I decided to 'run a few errands' during my lunch break today. Sadly, for me 'run a few errands' really means 'vaguely spend as much money as possible'. Awesome.

I started off at Rita's Italian Ice, which has just opened it's doors for the season. This is a justifiable expense. Afterall, a chocolate Misto shake is well worth the $3.10 it costs, even though it is nearly impossible to eat the entire thing.

Mmmm...Misto shake...Rita's...

Afterwards I drove across the parking lot to the Vietnamese nail place to get a much needed pedicure. I could justify this expense as well: after all, I just ran a half marathon, and my feet/lower legs are atrocious. Were atrocious. Now they are smooth and there is no unecessary skin and my toe nails are a lovely Edin-burgundy.

Next, I drove down the street to Target, Mecca of Unecessary Shopping, to pick up 'The Sonoma Diet'. I can justify this purchase, too, I swear. And while I was there, I had to pick up a few things for my friend's birthday. And a pack of gum (the value of fresh breath must never be underestimated, plus chewing burns calories). And a bright, pink mini umbrella to fit in my purse, because I don't have an umbrella. Except for during a cold, rainy trip to England my junior year of college, I've never had an umbrella, but I'm an adult now, and I figure I should have one. It might rain. On a day that I actually care what my hair looks like. It might.

So, okay, I can justify every single purchase I made. Because that's how I live my life: I make dubious choices and then try to make them feel okay in my head. I'm fine with everything I bought. I am NOT fine with the fact that I just spent about sixty dollars during my lunch break. I don't have sixty dollars! I have a credit card.

Ooh, I was going to write more about my horrid spending habits and my new ideas about dieting, however, my cousin just called and we're going to move my futon NOW. Ah! I am in a skirt and heels. Gotta go.

Never underestimate the power of kosher, adult soda...

I had no idea that this existed until I saw it on the bargain-we-must-get-this-outta-here shelf of my least favorite grocery (the Giant within walking distance of my house).

GUS, or grown-up soda "has distinctive, dry flavors for discriminating taste buds, made from real juices and extracts. And it’s nicely carbonated for added crispness and refreshment".

I tried the grapefruit variety, which was on sale for eighty-six cents. It was indeed crisp and refreshing and clocked in at only ninety calories for the entire bottle. Most sodas are over one hundred calories for one serving and list at least two servings per bottle, which really makes me angry because everyone knows you're going to drink the whole thing. The GUS site contains recipes like the GuS-ito and the GuS-mopolitan. You could only do that with a grown-up soda. A+ Actually, A- , because though the taste deserves a strong A+ (I totally rated those Soy Chips too high), there is no caffienated variety.

In other news, I had a glass of wine with lunch, which pretty much means I'm useless for the rest of the work day. Oops.

And as I went home on Friday night as drunk as drunk could be
I saw a head upon the bed where my old head should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me
Who owns that head with you in the bed where my old head should be

Ah, you're drunk,
you're drunk you silly old fool,
still you can not see
That's a baby boy that me mother sent to me
Well, it's many a day I've travelled a hundred miles or more
But a baby boy with his whiskers on sure I never saw before


~ from the traditional Irish song "Seven Drunken Nights"

Happy St. Patrick's Day, everyone!

Never underestimate the power of Soy...

So, while I was at the Superfresh off of Timonium Road the other day (undoubtedly my favorite grocery store in the world, mostly because it stocks Teany Tea), I picked up a bag of Glenny's Low Fat Soy Crisps, flavor: lightly salted.

The bag proclaimed "Great Taste!", "Only 70 Calories per serving" and "10 Grams pure SOY PROTEIN!. I didn't know that Soy Protein was a nutrient I should be specifically trying to get into my body.

But it seemed fun and kind of new-age (though Glenny's has apparently been making these chips "natural since 1979").

The ingredients are:
Low fat non-GMO soy flour (huh?)
Rice (mmm...carbs)
Mid oleic sunflower oil (huh?)
Sea salt (which I love, particularly on salads)

Now that I'm a runner (woohoo!), I am always hungry, so I'm looking for snacks that can be considered healthy- especially snacks that have a good amount of carbs and protein, while still being low-fat. Soy Crisps have five grams of protein and nine grabs of carbs per serving. Not bad.

A single soy crisp is not a pleasant thing to behold. If you made a tiny, exact model of the human brain in styrofoam, dyed it pale yellow and then sliced it 1/16 of an inch thick, you would have a soy crisp.

The first bite of soy crisp is not a pleasant thing to experience. It tastes rather like it looks- like styrofoam brain. Except lightly salted. But if you endure the first crisp and go for another and then another, the taste kind of grows on you. It's not so bad. There's something in that little piece of packing material, some taste that lingers and makes you want more. Maybe it's the mid oleic sunflower oil.

And apparently, it comes in other exciting flavors like caramel, mint fudge, cheddar cheese and apple cinnamon, so I really missed out when I chose 'lightly salted'.

All in all, Low Fat Soy Crisps are an excellent office snack, because you will not eat them too quickly, and you'll wash them down with plenty of water. A-

My new favorite drink...

Michelada Recipe
1/2 lime, preferably a key lime
Coarse salt
2 dashes Worcestershire sauce
1 dash soy sauce
1 dash Tabasco sauce
1 pinch black pepper
12 ounces beer, preferably a dark Mexican beer like Negra Modelo.