December 2005 Archives

I didn’t really intend to take this long of a break from the blog, but I was sort of bowled over by the holidays and general laziness. J and I spent a fabulous Christmas in Denver, basking in unseasonably warm weather and incredible food. Some old friends of mine are in a couple of bands, Bop Skizzum and the Flobots, and they put on an incredible show right after the holidays. Both bands, a funk band and hip hop band respectively, blew my mind by rocking completely out. I have a very clear memory of going to one of the first Bop Skizzum show (when they were the Funktion), which was held in the food court of a local mall. The big song was one called, “Nookie Train, “ which was, as you might guess, about riding the “nookie train.” This was emphasized with train whistle noises, and in spite of everything, wasn’t half bad. A bunch of us came for support and danced our hearts out in the middle of the afternoon outside Orange Julius, with old people glaring at us and little kids toddling up curiously. The Flobots have existed for a long time with different members coming and leaving, with my friend Jamie as the front man. They made tapes and cds and had friends do the artwork and we all carried them around in our cars for years. What they’re doing now though—complex and clever raps with live music and back up singers—completely knocks me flat. I’m sort of left speechless by it all, so overwhelmed am I by their pure talent.

Willow opened the show with a performance piece she’s perfecting, based on a jittery girl who has delusions about belonging to Toastmasters. She really was nervous, which probably ended up working in her favor given she was trying to project nervousness. It was a lot of fun.

The rest of the trip was taken up with checking in with favorite stores and getting meals from my favorite restaurants. Compared with other years, it was a pretty relaxing trip, with group excursions happening as much by chance as by planning. One afternoon, six of us ended wandering around a TJMaxx. We’d originally gone in to check out some shoes that were on sale cheap, but ended up completely enthralled by the ridiculousness of the store. From wooded egg wreaths, to soiled Coach wallets marked down to $100, to bodiless monkey clown ornaments, the store was really something to behold. The packageing for this stadium seat warmer stopped us dead in our tracks:

Let’s get a closer look at the advertised product, which appears to warm your ass by lighting it on fire. It’s so warm you can wear a tank top and shorts while you’re on fire! But your poor friend will have to huddle miserably in the cold next to you..

My Denver friends always put on a raucous New Years Eve party, so they were all upset when they found out we’d be leaving before the festivities. They all wanted to know what the big party was out east that we were hurrying back for and I was embarrassed to admit that, uh, we have no activities. Per say. Or at all really. So far, we’re getting drunk at Krista’s apartment with Tom and watching fireworks, which actually doesn’t sound half bad.

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Dave W. asked for a clarification on the size of the giant chocolate bar. He wanted a picture of something next to it so he could more accurately gauge the relative size. This is the best picture I have, which shows the chocolate next to a donkey who wandered through our yard, where we're storing the leftovers.

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Getting into work wasn’t so bad yesterday. Kelly’s company is covering her transportation costs for the duration of the strike, so I hitched a ride with her there and back. Back was the real issue, as it seemed like the entire city was trying to beat the rush at the same time and it took almost 90 minutes to get to Park Slope from mid-town. I decided it wasn’t worth the big commute for the half day we had scheduled today, so I’m home again.

We all met up at Krista’s after work last night for Asian food, Christmas cookies, and Charlie Brown watching. She’s also recorded The Grinch, but realized too late that it was the blasphemous Jim Carey version, so we skipped that and watched Project Runway instead. I think Santino and his ego were headed for a major smackdown the entire show, so I hope the humiliation of last night’s competitions shook some sense into him. Did you catch that he’s only 30-years-old? Wha? He is the most 45-year-old-lookin’ 30-year-old I’ve ever seen. Also, what’s up with the group competition? If I want talk about crappy team leaders and shitty group dynamics, I’ll go to the Apprentice. What I’m looking for here is cutthroat individual competition and lots of crazy outfits. Three lines of clothes? Eh. That’s like slight variations on three crazy outfits. Not enough! We got a big kick out of the tv guide’s synopsis of the show, which said the designers would have to make lingerie that was both sexy AND alluring. Tall order!

Here is our holiday banquet.

It was one of those dinners where everything was strewn everywhere and people passed a lot of things and laughed and wine was poured. Just like a holiday dinner should be! The wine was a present sent to my office by a publishing house’s audio division. Usually we just get a bunch of cards, but every once in a while, something exciting comes along (camcorder, golden ticket), and I was psyched to see alcohol joining the mix. Neither my boss nor my coworker wanted it, so happy holidays to me! They seemed to think this wine maybe wasn’t the best wine ever to be produced, but, y’know, FREE WINE. Suckers! Anyway, we thought it was tasty.

Today will be a lot of packing and cleaning, then we're off for Denver tomorrow. We're hoping the strike and impending holidays won't make getting to the airport too difficult, but I'm not expecting too many problems.

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I'm at home today on my MTA-mandated holiday. Between the weather and the distance and the not-huge amount of work I have to get done, my boss is letting me stay home while the MTA figures out what to do. I wish I had crazy stories to tell you, but really I'm just sitting here in pajamas letting all the craziness happen outside. I'm doing some laundry. Perhaps I will follow Willow's lead and do some live blogging throughout the day.

posted by Liz @ 9:56 AM

I just watched Sharon Stone auction off her earrings for AIDS research on the Ellen show. Joe won them for $7,500.

posted by Liz @ 10:36 AM

Kitchen is clean now. Hmm, this is turning into the most boring live blogging EVER in the history of blogging. Maybe you should watch this instead. If you missed SNL this weekend, I highly recommend taking a peek. This may be the best thing they've done in a long time.

posted by Liz @ 12:52 PM

I went scrounging for lunch things to eat and came up with very little. We're in that phase before leaving on vacation where we don't have a lot of new food around. I ended up heating some chili and making chips with leftover blue corn torillas, olive oil, and sea salt. Funny how desperation can push you to get creative. Bloomburg is on television giving us a non-update. I'm frustrated because I have some gifts that are being held hostage at my office and may miss out on our fancy holiday lunch I was looking forward to. Boo! Kelly has to get to work tomorrow, though, so I may be able to catch a ride if it turns out to be necessary.

posted by Liz @ 2:50 PM

I'm going to make an attempt into the city tomorrow. Kelly and I have a tenuous plan worked out for getting a car and picking up more people. This plan involves getting up at the crack of dawn and harrassing the nearby car companies, but I think I'm up for the challenge. I'd normally relish extra holiday days, but I'm sort of eager to wrap up my end-of-year things and reclaim things I left at my desk. How boring am I? Anyway, I got fresh laundry and a clean kitchen out of it. And a bag full of blue corn chips. J was busy, too. Here's what's left of a giant candy bar I brought home from work:

ONE of the giant candy bars I brought home from work. The other was the golden ticket one, which I eventually got (no golden ticket). He finished that one off this morning before starting in on this one.

posted by Liz @ 9:34 PM

WEDNESDAY UPDATE: After some waiting around in the cold and a long car ride, we made it into the city with no problems! It's really early, though.

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In general, I’m pretty dichotomous about the shows I watch on the Food Network. Paula Dean and Alton Brown: yes; Rachael Ray and Emeril: no. But there are a couple shows that hover in the middle, like Good Eats and, more recently, Sandra Lee's show. Her shtick is that she makes “semi-homemade” things: meals and baked goods using pre-made products and mixes. She is utterly fascinating to watch, because she somehow manages to take generally innocuous items, like Pillsbury crescent rolls, and make them the most disgusting thing possible using a lot of time and other random ingredients. Seemingly, her tolerance for partially hydrogenated soybean oil is limitless.

But, even knowing what we do about Sandra Lee, J and I were just aghast at this weekend’s episode, where she made holiday cakes. These may go down in history as the worst concoctions ever to have been brought to fruition. Witness: the Hanukkah cake.

The fact that she’s even making something as inane as a freakin’ Hanukkah cake already had me on edge. News flash: when you impose your crappy, commercialized version of holiday cheer onto another religion, it is not a compliment. You are not doing something nice. And halfway through this recipe, I had to wonder if Sandra Lee knew this and was just decided to push the envelope anyway, because this cake was not meant for consumption. It starts off as a store-bought angel food Bundt cake. She dyes some canned frosting blue, but before spreading it on the cake, she STUFFS MARSHMALLOWS IN THE BUNDT CAKE HOLE. Then she ices it. Then she makes a Star of David out of fake pearls and jams it in the middle. Ta-da! I would show a picture of this, but it isn’t on the website. Maybe because this recipe wasn’t a real recipe, but something inspired by Cliff Huxtable.

She then breaks up the insanity by making a fairly harmless Christmas cake, that still manages to be completely disgusting. She ices another angel food cake with some pastel green frosting, covers the whole thing in shredded coconut (“Like snow!”) and decorates it with marzipan leaves she just happens to have in her cabinet, and red gel that looks like Halloween blood.

But then…the Kwanzaa Celebration Cake. This is Sandra Lee at her best, making something utterly time consuming and disgusting, but ultimately really ugly, too! She starts off with the same angel food Bundt cake, but slices it into two layers. To a bowl of canned frosting, she adds cocoa, cinnamon, vanilla and mixes it up. As she proceeds to put the whole bowl’s worth on the bottom layer she assures us that “this is everyone’s favorite part, so use a lot! You can always make more!” After replacing the top layer and frosting the whole thing, she gets out a can of apple pie filling. At this point, J and I stop gagging enough to yell, “Nooo!” at the television. But it is too late; Sandra Lee has filled in the Bundt hole with glops of canned pie filling.

If you think she is done, then you are thinking this is merely a Hanukkah cake. No, people; THIS is a Kwanzaa Celebration Cake and the decorations are only just beginning. She pours a bowlful of shelled acorns over the whole cake, followed by handfuls of green pumpkin seeds. We are lucky because the online recipe has replaced the acorns with A PACKAGE OF CORN NUTS and added popcorn. So the ideal Kwanzaa Celebration Cake now holds Corn Nuts, popped popcorn, and pumpkin seeds. And the cake would not be complete without gigantic Kwanzaa candles, which she dutifully jams into the cake.

So whatever holiday atrocities may enter your life this season, let us all give thanks that Sandra Lee isn’t invited to dinner.

Neither the transit strike nor the giant ice storm managed to manifest themselves today, and instead us New Yorkers are being treated to extra fast trains and a balmy 50-degree afternoon. Fine with me! I like it when you’re wrong, news. I am supposed to go to a party after work and left the house in a sweater and jeans, somehow forgetting entirely that the party is supposed to be “celebrating retro glam style” and that “fancy dress is a must.” Whoops! I foresee some quick shopping after work.

The real Apprentice finale party was penis-cake-free, I’m sorry to say. There were Mallomars and chips but really, what’s the comparison? Good thing there were provisions, however, or we might not have come out of that excruciatingly long 2-hour finale alive. Holy, that was a long episode. I know it wasn’t any longer than any other finale show, but my “I don’t care” meter was really going crazy around the 75-minute mark. Like, I get it: Rebecca broke her ankle and Randal’s grandma died, WE’RE WITH YOU. Making fun of Rebecca’s power blush or the fact that Randal looks just like a koala was fun, but not as fun as Tana hiding out in a parking garage hunched over a bowl of pretzels squawking, “I paid for these bitches, I’m gonna take ‘em!” Sigh. THAT was some good time.

Anyway, I mostly want to point out that my prediction that Trump would hire two Apprentices was completely DEAD ON. Ha! I mean, except for the fact that he only hired Randal, but that was Randal’s fault, not Trump’s. I’m sorry that Randal got all frantic and ultra-competitive at the end and took away Rebecca’s job. If he were a little smoother, he could have worked out a way to phrase his answer so Rebecca could also have received a job, but not the title of winning Apprentice or something. I really liked Randal the whole time, and when he denied Rebecca I felt like he’d failed some test of being a good person. Like he’d walked past the bleeding man on the sidewalk in one of those old psychology tests.

Uh oh, my “I don’t care” meter is kicking in again.

Best phrase of the evening belongs to Toral, speaking about Rebecca: “She’s like a diamond in a haystack!"

Yes. Well said.

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New Yorkers: I need your help. Our office is trying to pick a place to have our annual holiday lunch and we are all drawing blanks. We’re looking for a place with slightly adventurous cuisine, a fun atmosphere, a little fancy (but more hip than stuffy), and that has some vegetarian selections. We went to Craft two years ago and Artisanal last year. Any suggestions? I know you have something tucked away in your brilliant little heads.

Okay, so TONIGHT is the actual Apprentice finale (wherein I maintain Trump will hire both finalists). Due to confusing programming notes, we went into last week’s episode in full-finale mode, only to be denied at the end. We even celebrated by making a cake. Somewhere in the middle of the afternoon I got it into my head that I NEEDED some Funfetti Frosting, which was perplexing. Who needs Funfetti Frosting? It was strange, but I try not to deny myself bizarre cravings. I got Krista on board, even though she had never heard of Funfetti Frosting, and we bought a celebratory box of chocolate cake mix and the can of frosting. Having been the receiving end of an endless parade of cooking and baking supplies for the past several years, I find myself taking others’ ownership of said supplies for granted. Months ago, I finally gave Krista one of our (millions of) wooden spoons because every time I’d bake something at her place I’d go, “You don’t have a WOODEN SPOON? How do you SURVIVE?” Now she has a wooden spoon and I bake things for us and everyone is happy.

Last week, however, I had just finished adding the eggs and oil and was beating the batter, when I asked Krista to grease the pan. There was a pause, then a look. This look is called “Oh, shit I don’t have the kitchen supply/ingredient Liz needs and now I will be chastised.” She searched, but only turned up a small glass dish that would optimistically hold half the batter.

Liz: What happened to the metal cake round you had?
Krista: (ominously) It went bad.
Liz: ?
Krista: It had to be thrown away.
Liz: You really don’t have anything?
Krista: Well...there is the penis pan.

You remember the penis pan, don’t you! Anyway, it turns out this was our only choice, so we cooked up a big chocolate penis and covered it with Funfetti Frosting. We tried to make it Trump-themed in some way, but the attempts were only half-hearted. The cake, though, was delicious.

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I did not get a golden ticket. I did not even get a chocolate bar in the mail. I do not appreciate getting my hopes up about receiving chocolate AND a chance to win big monies. I did, however, receive a little gift from a film agency we work with that I thought would be a box of candy, but which was in fact a tiny camcorder. Nothing crazy fancy or anything, but still: fun times!

This weekend J and I embarked on a very special family tradition: making toffee. If you know me in real life, you know about the toffee. It’s a beautiful butter almond toffee coated in chocolate that my mom makes every year to give away as holiday gifts. It is a recipe handed down from my grandma and is Super Top Secret. For Hanukkah, my parents bought us all the equipment we needed and we set to work hunting down the ingredients and preparing to enter into family tradition. I’ve been watching toffee be made since I was little and I’ve helped with my fair share of batches, so the actual candy making went pretty smoothly. This could also be because I had my mom on the phone with me almost the whole time, making sure I knew all the tips and hints and was looking for the right things. Anyway, I feel very grown up now that I’m third generation toffee making.

I’m going through a very positive New York time right now: everything feels like it is going really well, friends are good, work is fun, I’m doing some new and challenging things. When life is being nice, it’s like everything becomes these easily manageable chunks and I can see a clear path in front of my feet. I never quite get that clarity to see YEARS down the path, but I feel pretty good about the next few weeks.

(Knock on wood.)

If you’re looking to kill a little time, here’s a fun game for you. It’s a sequel to one I posted about a long time ago, and is one of those games where you have to click around a lot and discover what will help your little guy. You can play a whole game, but they’re selling a second chapter for $10 when you finish.

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Forgive me, but I just don’t think I can bear a recap of the ANTM finale. I don’t think I can dredge up enough enthusiasm for the task. I will say that I think Trump is going to hire two apprentices tonight, because no one likes a twist better than the Donald. If I’m wrong I owe you a helicopter ride around the city and half an hour in my presence. But if I’m right, you owe me a meeting with some random sports team.

On of the companies we work with sent around an email saying they’re sending out 1400 chocolate bars tomorrow to “corporate assistants” (I suppose that means me), some of which contain golden tickets that are worth money. I have no idea how I got to be on this list, but let’s everyone say a little $5000-golden-ticket prayer for Liz. Thank you.

Do people still have wacky (I almost spelled that “whacky) dating adventures anymore? I feel like many of my friends are dating stable people or in a lull at the moment and I haven’t gotten my fill of crazy date stories in a long time. Does being married make me want to live vicariously through other people’s bad dates? Have I lost my empathy? (I do seem to remember bad dates as actually being “bad” and “not fun” so maybe this is why people seem reluctant to go on bad dates so that they can tell me the story.) The last good one I heard involved the guy wearing women’s socks and talking about interior decorating all night while trying to make a move on the lady. The one before that involved a callous guy and a not-so-veiled reference to the 24-hour convenience store down the street. Before that we had the guy who talked about himself all night, got high, and called his grandma. And the one where the guy stopped mid-date to return home and get his sister/roommate some pizza. These were not good dates, but these were good stories. Please try to go on some bad dates and tell me about them. I mean, not like BAD, but humorous bad. Again, thanks.

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My head says Nik, with her classic lines and boring personality,

But my heart says Nicole, with her oh-so-modely blank stare and without-makeup-plainness!

This is a big night. The winner will have a lot to live up to. Who ISN'T still talking about Eva as toppest model there is?

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Firstly: So You Think You Can Ice Skate? Dave Coulier and Nancy Kerrigan couple skating. Need I say more? Well, if you insist: Debbie Gibson and Kurt Browning. Okay, dancing is one thing, but holy shit if I would trust the guy from Full House to swing me around by my feet in general, not to mention if blades and an ice rink were involved. Also, speaking as someone who has had her fair share of figure skating days, contrary to popular belief, learning to skate involves a little more than rising to the challenge and finding your toe pick. Needless to say, this should be GOLD.

Second: J found the best infomercial ever to be aired ever. It was for the Bedazzler. And TANA was pitching it. I KNOW! Did you just die? Because I did. I’m dead.

I was in a hurry after lunch and picking up a quick item at Duane Reade. (If you’re from New York, I bet you already know this story’s headed no where good REAL FAST.) I thought I lucked out, snagging a number two place in line behind a mother and her 20-something daughter amidst the long lines, but problems quickly mounted. The mom had a $5 reward coupon, but had only brought up $4.84 worth of merchandise. The cashier told her she needed meet or exceed $5 to use the coupon. This is the point where a normal person would grab a candy bar and call it a day, but this woman was DISMAYED. She stood there and fretted for about two minutes.

Woman: How much is this chapstick?
Cashier: $1.99
W: Oh, never mind. Um…hmmm.
Daughter: Just grab a candy.
W: I don’t like candy.
D: You don’t like any candy? What about a York?
W: No. Oh, hmm. Uh. Lessee…uh. How much is the candy?
C: $.75
W: I only need about $.16. Can’t I just give you $.16?
C: No.
W: [tentatively picking up candy and putting it back] hmmm. Uuuhhh…

At this point I snapped and grabbed a Peanut Chew telling her I would GIVE HER A DOLLAR if she would just buy the [goddamn freakin’] candy for me.

W: Oh, no. [grabbing Starbursts reluctantly] I’ll just take these.

Then there was an additional 5 minutes of waiting when her coupon wouldn’t scan, but the rest of the lines remained long, keeping me from hopping over. This was ALMOST enough time to strangle her and her daughter and all the Duane Reade workers and run away, but not quite. It was enough time for the woman to drop a used tissue on the ground and shove it under the candy display with her foot.

Here’s a more uplifting commerce story: This morning my boss was getting in his car and noticed a lady nearby getting ready to drive off with a cup of coffee on her roof. He rolled down his window, got her attention, and made all the pointing up motions. She rolled down her window and said, “Thanks, but this is a Starbucks car. Here’s a $5 gift certificate for being so nice.” The cup was apparently affixed to the top of the car as part of this publicity stunt. So, eyes peeled for wandering Starbucks cups.

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Waking up at what counts as the crack of dawn on a Saturday (7:00am) turned out to be totally worth it for our adventure to Atlantic City. Usually, I would be pretty groggy hauling my butt out of bed that early, but my brain was too excited for MEATBALLS to get very upset about anything. J and I managed to wrangle Krista and Tom into the trip, so we all met at the Alamo car rental at 9:00 and hit the road. I thought I was being super clever getting the standard size car (versus the economy or compact) for $2.00 more, but somehow our Pontiac Grand Am was using the extra space in weird places. Like, J's head hit the ceiling, but the glove compartment was approximately three feet deep.

The batteries for Krista's iPod car adapter wore out, so we listened to the radio (fun fact: Krista cannot get enought of the Black Eyed Peas song, "My Lumps." I enjoy it because it IS catchy and Krista enjoys it so much. But "my lady lumps"? I just...I don't know. I sort of feel dirty listening to it). When we stopped and Krista hopped out to get more batteries, we made another space discovery behind the back seats, which folded down to expose the trunk. A trunk with a coconut in. Krista has already discussed this on her blog, but I must emphasize how weird it was to find a coconut in the trunk of a rental car. What are you doing that you acquire and forget a coconut? The coconut provided much hilarity for the remainder of the trip.

And then...meatballs! I really owe a lot to Krista, who inspired us to be really hands-on with the coverage. We got backstage and talked to a lot of the competitors. The whole thing can be found here, though I warn you: there are a lot of meatball-gorging pics! I have to say, this was one of the most fun things I have done in a long time. I loved meeting everyone and it made me want to become a food competition groupie. Can I get paid for that?

After the competition, we hit the quarter slots. This was my first go at gambling in a casino andI found the experience fun. For the first fifteen minutes. Until my ten dollars ran out. Aaaand, I was pretty much done after that. I think you might have to be less poor than me to want to shove money into a machine for the sole purpose of watching it eat it. I mean, I won a quarter here and there, but after it became clear the Burning Sevens weren't going to hand me my millions, I was ready to leave. We strolled down the boardwalk and made out way to the Trump casino, where Krista won $50 and broke even. Then it was off to the Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum (Tom's favorite game was to look at an exhibit and go, "I don't believe it!" Totally fun game) and candy shops for some salt water taffy. There were guys who patrolled the the boardwalk with little plastic-enclosed carraige-like boxes that you could climb in and pay to be pushed up and down the stretch. The men looked exactly like street vendors selling drunk tourists instead of pretzels.

I think I love Atlantic City a little.

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The baby panda watching not only takes up an all-day tab on my firefox browser, but it has become a communal activity as well. I’ve already gotten two emails this morning telling me to look at the panda RIGHT NOW because he is doing something retina-burningly cute. My coworker and I also IM back and forth to keep each other up on the goings on of little Mei Xiang (she got mad at me when the camera went back online after being off for a bit and I didn’t tell her). Here was the exchange from this morning:

Coworker: the panda's in a box!!
Coworker: oh panda cute
Coworker: panda just laid a seriously big shit.
Liz: ew!
Liz: that's not cute
Coworker: oh maybe it's a toy.

Later, I saw the “shit” and fell over dead from laughing:

That would be quite the gastronomical feat. And symmetrical, too!

This weekend Tom, Krista, J, and I are heading to Atlantic City to watch the 2005 National Meatball Eating Contest. I’m reporting for an Urban Honking blog, though I’m not sure which one. I assumed Warm Glow, but Willow informed me there is a food blog, too, and that made more sense. In any case, I will be carefully documenting the trip and the contest and will hopefully have a full report up at the beginning of next week. Though it has long been my dream, I have yet to attend an eating competition, so I am VERY excited about this. I may have to stage my own eating competition afterwards just to feel like I really participated.

My initial research showed me the Black Widow was last year’s meatball champ. She is of the 105-pound tiny competitive eater variety. This variety is appealing because there is mystery involved (not that you see tie-in perfume or candles). Where does one put 20 pounds of food inside a 105-pound frame? Mystery! Anyway, since this particular contest is only in its second year, the Black Widow is the lady to beat.

Here are some Black Widow facts:

She works as a manager at Burger King
She only eats one very large meal a day, which takes several hours for her to complete
She exercises up to two hours a day on an incline treadmill
She is most proud to be an American

Wikipedia says, “Thomas was born in Kunsan, South Korea to parents of modest means who had difficulty keeping up with their ravenous daughter's grocery bills.”

But her website has this picture and strange caption:

I guess they aren't her parents, but it does allude to something strange. More mystery!

Back on Monday after so many slots and meatballs.

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