He apparently thinks I’m five years old. My TiVo recommendations are all from Nickelodeon, including Dora the Explorer, Go, Diego, Go, and something called "Squirrel Boy."
Thanks a lot, Season Pass of “Family Guy” and “South Park." Way to confuse my new boyfriend.
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Monday, May 29, 2006
It sure doesn’t seem that exciting when you commit it to paper
This Memorial Day weekend, I:
Watched two very good movies about mentally unstable people (Prozac Nation and Proof).
Ate asiago bread and spinach dip.
Hooked up with my new boyfriend TiVo and spend most of an afternoon snuggling with him.
Finally got my Smiths poster professionally framed.
Vowed to start knitting again and even braved a trip to Michael’s (which was terrifying) to buy yarn.
Bought a docking station for my iPod and updated my stereo system.
Watched two very good movies about mentally unstable people (Prozac Nation and Proof).
Ate asiago bread and spinach dip.
Hooked up with my new boyfriend TiVo and spend most of an afternoon snuggling with him.
Finally got my Smiths poster professionally framed.
Vowed to start knitting again and even braved a trip to Michael’s (which was terrifying) to buy yarn.
Bought a docking station for my iPod and updated my stereo system.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Trust your Instincts, Girlfriend
Let’s just say that maybe you find a bag of clothes hidden under your bed in a garbage bag. And you go through the bag, thinking, “Holy cow! That’s where my khaki pants went to….and that jean skirt! I wondered about that. Look at all this stuff – why is it hidden away like this?”
And then you try on the clothes that were hidden under your bed in a garbage bag and then you think “Sweet baby Jesus, I look like total crap in these! This skirt is awful. These khakis could cover a Winnebago – everything is awful!”
And then you might realize that maybe there was a REASON that you stuffed those items into a garbage bag and hid them from yourself.
Methinks its time to go to the Goodwill.
And then you try on the clothes that were hidden under your bed in a garbage bag and then you think “Sweet baby Jesus, I look like total crap in these! This skirt is awful. These khakis could cover a Winnebago – everything is awful!”
And then you might realize that maybe there was a REASON that you stuffed those items into a garbage bag and hid them from yourself.
Methinks its time to go to the Goodwill.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Your Suggestions Needed!
Okay kids, here’s the dealio. This Labor Day weekend marks the 10 year anniversary of Beth’s Journey To Seattle. TEN YEARS! I was but a wee little 22 year old fuzzy baby bunny when I hopped in my Honda Civic and left the Mile High City behind for good.
So I need suggestions for how I should celebrate this milestone – whether for that specific weekend or for the summer leading up to it. There are 14 weekends between now and Labor Day -- do you have a cool weekend trip I should take? A Seattle sight I need to see? Just a cool idea that you want to make me do?
Send ‘em my way….
So I need suggestions for how I should celebrate this milestone – whether for that specific weekend or for the summer leading up to it. There are 14 weekends between now and Labor Day -- do you have a cool weekend trip I should take? A Seattle sight I need to see? Just a cool idea that you want to make me do?
Send ‘em my way….
Friday, May 19, 2006
I Heart my BFF Santino
Can I just put it out there for the record that I freakin’ LOVE Santino of Project Runway fame? Love. Him.
I have checked out his blog and am a wee bit miffed that I was not given a heads up about his visit to Seattle last month. Hello? A 7-foot bitchy gay man that impersonates Tim Gunn to a tee? AND he was at the Cha Cha, the War Room and the Bus Stop which are, I might add, literally just a few feet from my house.
Whatever, biotch. I’ll get over it. It’s nothing a dinner at the Red Lobster with Andrae can’t cure.
I have checked out his blog and am a wee bit miffed that I was not given a heads up about his visit to Seattle last month. Hello? A 7-foot bitchy gay man that impersonates Tim Gunn to a tee? AND he was at the Cha Cha, the War Room and the Bus Stop which are, I might add, literally just a few feet from my house.
Whatever, biotch. I’ll get over it. It’s nothing a dinner at the Red Lobster with Andrae can’t cure.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Open Letter to Ra the Sun God
All hail Ra,
First off, I’d like to open by saying thank you very much for your gift, the sun. Really nice work overall on your part here. We in Seattle don’t see a lot of the sun, but we sure do appreciate it when it makes an appearance.
Which brings to my reason for writing. I wanted to take a moment to apologize on behalf of my people, the Seattleites. As I mentioned, we’re sort of new to the concept of “the sun” and as such we tend to get a little overexcited when it appears. This week is a prime example. It’s been 80 degrees now for two days (again, great work!), but it seems that folks haven’t quite worked out how to dress in this warm climate.
On behalf of the pale, the flabby, the hairy, the pasty and the totally inappropriately underclad citizens of Seattle that have been prancing around our city this week, I apologize. Especially for the shirtless man with a paunch in cut-off hotpants that was riding the number 11 bus last night. Sorry ‘bout that. Seriously.
Anyway – I know you’re busy. Thanks again for the sun and the warmth thing that you’ve got going on. We’re looking forward to seeing more of it in the months ahead and I promise I’ll do what I can to throw a couple of cardigans around the biggest pasty and hairy offenders out there.
Keep on keepin’ on,
Beth
First off, I’d like to open by saying thank you very much for your gift, the sun. Really nice work overall on your part here. We in Seattle don’t see a lot of the sun, but we sure do appreciate it when it makes an appearance.
Which brings to my reason for writing. I wanted to take a moment to apologize on behalf of my people, the Seattleites. As I mentioned, we’re sort of new to the concept of “the sun” and as such we tend to get a little overexcited when it appears. This week is a prime example. It’s been 80 degrees now for two days (again, great work!), but it seems that folks haven’t quite worked out how to dress in this warm climate.
On behalf of the pale, the flabby, the hairy, the pasty and the totally inappropriately underclad citizens of Seattle that have been prancing around our city this week, I apologize. Especially for the shirtless man with a paunch in cut-off hotpants that was riding the number 11 bus last night. Sorry ‘bout that. Seriously.
Anyway – I know you’re busy. Thanks again for the sun and the warmth thing that you’ve got going on. We’re looking forward to seeing more of it in the months ahead and I promise I’ll do what I can to throw a couple of cardigans around the biggest pasty and hairy offenders out there.
Keep on keepin’ on,
Beth
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Letters, oh we get letters…
Mailbag from the World of Beth....
Q: Your blog claims to feature the musings of Mrs. Puff, but she’s awfully quiet. What’s her problem, anyway? Does she think she’s too good for the World of Beth?
A: Gentle readers, here’s the deal with Mrs. Puff. She’s old. She’s obese. She’s very cranky. She’s kind of smelly. Her postings would most likely be about how I cruelly abandon her every single day, forcing her to sleep for long periods of time in the sun surrounded by toys. It’s a very difficult life for Mrs. Puff and she really doesn’t like to talk about it. Okay?
Q: So, what’s the deal with Mr. Puff?
A: We don’t like to discuss Mr. Puff. It stirs up bad memories for Mrs. Puff.
Q: No, seriously. What’s the deal?
A: Okay. It goes like this. They married way too young. Just kittens, really. They lived in poverty and filth, under a crowded porch in Factoria surrounded by a dozen other cats. They had some Pufflets (who, by the way, never call her, even on Mother’s Day).
Mr. Puff had a catnip problem. He gambled. He pawned her wedding collar to pay off his bookie, Fluffy. He was away from home a lot, likely cavorting with thinner, sexier tabbies. The Pufflets grew up and left the porch. Eventually Mr. Puff left too, claiming to see a shiny object that needed investigation, and he was never heard from again.
Mrs. Puff comforted herself by gorging on liver and chicken snacks while watching soap operas. She ended up at the Bellevue Humane Society, sick with a foul, snotty head cold, after a bender on Cat Chow (eaten right out of the bag!), where I adopted her. She doesn’t like to talk about her past and I don’t press her for details.
Q: Your blog claims to feature the musings of Mrs. Puff, but she’s awfully quiet. What’s her problem, anyway? Does she think she’s too good for the World of Beth?
A: Gentle readers, here’s the deal with Mrs. Puff. She’s old. She’s obese. She’s very cranky. She’s kind of smelly. Her postings would most likely be about how I cruelly abandon her every single day, forcing her to sleep for long periods of time in the sun surrounded by toys. It’s a very difficult life for Mrs. Puff and she really doesn’t like to talk about it. Okay?
Q: So, what’s the deal with Mr. Puff?
A: We don’t like to discuss Mr. Puff. It stirs up bad memories for Mrs. Puff.
Q: No, seriously. What’s the deal?
A: Okay. It goes like this. They married way too young. Just kittens, really. They lived in poverty and filth, under a crowded porch in Factoria surrounded by a dozen other cats. They had some Pufflets (who, by the way, never call her, even on Mother’s Day).
Mr. Puff had a catnip problem. He gambled. He pawned her wedding collar to pay off his bookie, Fluffy. He was away from home a lot, likely cavorting with thinner, sexier tabbies. The Pufflets grew up and left the porch. Eventually Mr. Puff left too, claiming to see a shiny object that needed investigation, and he was never heard from again.
Mrs. Puff comforted herself by gorging on liver and chicken snacks while watching soap operas. She ended up at the Bellevue Humane Society, sick with a foul, snotty head cold, after a bender on Cat Chow (eaten right out of the bag!), where I adopted her. She doesn’t like to talk about her past and I don’t press her for details.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Eau de Doh?
So, get this.
I'm sure most of you have seen the Demeter fragrance line, featuring unusual scents such as "Gin & Tonic," "Dirt," and "Sugar Cookie." I myself am partial to the "Laundromat" scent, but I've never taken the plunge and actually purchased it.
Now Demeter has introduced "Play-Doh" cologne that smells like....well....you know. I think perhaps the most disturbing part of this is not that people can walk around smelling like Play-Doh, but that it will cost them $20-$40 to do so.
I'm sure most of you have seen the Demeter fragrance line, featuring unusual scents such as "Gin & Tonic," "Dirt," and "Sugar Cookie." I myself am partial to the "Laundromat" scent, but I've never taken the plunge and actually purchased it.
Now Demeter has introduced "Play-Doh" cologne that smells like....well....you know. I think perhaps the most disturbing part of this is not that people can walk around smelling like Play-Doh, but that it will cost them $20-$40 to do so.
Monday, May 08, 2006
SIFF-a-licious
Hey kids! The Seattle International Film Festival schedule is getting announced this week! You know that means, don't you? It means that Beth is going to be huddled over her kitchen table diligently studying and marking her target list of movies with a highlighter pen and a dayplanner while she maps out her life for the next months.
Unfortunately, as has been the tradition for the past five years or so, it also means that Beth will likely get really, really excited about this at the beginning, buy a dozen or so tickets and then end up going to only 2 or 3 movies at the most.
Will Beth buck the trend? Will she be able to either buy fewer tickets or somehow manage to go to more movies? Only time will tell.
Unfortunately, as has been the tradition for the past five years or so, it also means that Beth will likely get really, really excited about this at the beginning, buy a dozen or so tickets and then end up going to only 2 or 3 movies at the most.
Will Beth buck the trend? Will she be able to either buy fewer tickets or somehow manage to go to more movies? Only time will tell.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
A weekend with my Spice Girls
Yes, I'm back, loyal readers -- after yet ANOTHER weekend out of the house! Get me! This is a pretty remarkable trend in the World of Beth. I headed back down the old I-5 to Oregon once more, but this time to lovely and picturesque Cannon Beach. A few highlights and observations:
1.) We realized that if we were somehow to perform in a Spice Girls reunion band, we would refer to ourselves as Spinster Spice, Barren Spice, Bitter Spice and (for me) Cynical Spice (alternatively Cat Lady Spice). This pretty much set the tone for the weekend.
2.) After a pitcher of beer, we felt the bitter barren spinster thing was kind of negative, so we tried to come up with some imaginary lives for each of us. This is an EXCELLENT exercise to try -- I highly recommend it. I had suffered a nervous breakdown after accidentally falling off of a boat and splashing into an eel breeding area and was on a day pass that weekend from the hospital. My husband was a chain saw artist.
3.) The movie "Reality Bites" never, ever gets old, sugar boogers.
4.) Yahtzee is a pretty freakin' boring game, even when alcohol is involved.
5.) A dog running at full speed on the beach is a remarkably happy thing.
6.) Dolly Parton's "9 to 5" could well be one of the best songs ever written.
7.) The Tillamook Cheese factory -- which should be one of the happiest, most exciting places a girl could ever see (provided that girl is kind of freaky about cheese) -- is actually kind of lame and depressing.
1.) We realized that if we were somehow to perform in a Spice Girls reunion band, we would refer to ourselves as Spinster Spice, Barren Spice, Bitter Spice and (for me) Cynical Spice (alternatively Cat Lady Spice). This pretty much set the tone for the weekend.
2.) After a pitcher of beer, we felt the bitter barren spinster thing was kind of negative, so we tried to come up with some imaginary lives for each of us. This is an EXCELLENT exercise to try -- I highly recommend it. I had suffered a nervous breakdown after accidentally falling off of a boat and splashing into an eel breeding area and was on a day pass that weekend from the hospital. My husband was a chain saw artist.
3.) The movie "Reality Bites" never, ever gets old, sugar boogers.
4.) Yahtzee is a pretty freakin' boring game, even when alcohol is involved.
5.) A dog running at full speed on the beach is a remarkably happy thing.
6.) Dolly Parton's "9 to 5" could well be one of the best songs ever written.
7.) The Tillamook Cheese factory -- which should be one of the happiest, most exciting places a girl could ever see (provided that girl is kind of freaky about cheese) -- is actually kind of lame and depressing.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
After one too many not-so-beautiful days in the neighborhood....
....Beth is packing up and moving her ass to a better part of town.
Same general neighborhood, just a little on the safer/quieter/less drunk area. I have found a DELIGHTFUL little place that ideally I'll be moving up to at the end of June. It's really quite adorable with a rooftop patio that offers views of Mount Rainier and the entire city.
Plus. GET THIS. It features both a WASHER/DRYER and....AND.....a Garbage Disposal. My heart is literally fluttering at the idea of not having to put my fingers into a slimy kitchen sink again.
Stay tuned and I'll let you know how it goes. Wheeeee.
Same general neighborhood, just a little on the safer/quieter/less drunk area. I have found a DELIGHTFUL little place that ideally I'll be moving up to at the end of June. It's really quite adorable with a rooftop patio that offers views of Mount Rainier and the entire city.
Plus. GET THIS. It features both a WASHER/DRYER and....AND.....a Garbage Disposal. My heart is literally fluttering at the idea of not having to put my fingers into a slimy kitchen sink again.
Stay tuned and I'll let you know how it goes. Wheeeee.
Monday, May 01, 2006
If Anna Nicole Smith can be thin again, then surely.....
I'm a little overwhelemed, World at Large.
The thing is that I'm sitting here in my kitchen, surrounded by what can only be described as a GINORMOUS pile of boxes/cartons/containers and tubs of food from Nutrisystem.
Yes, I've taken the plunge and decided to make my contribution to the billion-dollar diet industry. I figured last week that since I largely only eat prepared food ANYWAY I might as well try and lose weight while doing it..... I can't quite figure out how I feel about all of this.
Hmmm. This is a lot to handle. Stay tuned.
The thing is that I'm sitting here in my kitchen, surrounded by what can only be described as a GINORMOUS pile of boxes/cartons/containers and tubs of food from Nutrisystem.
Yes, I've taken the plunge and decided to make my contribution to the billion-dollar diet industry. I figured last week that since I largely only eat prepared food ANYWAY I might as well try and lose weight while doing it..... I can't quite figure out how I feel about all of this.
Hmmm. This is a lot to handle. Stay tuned.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Weekend Update
I'm back from a lovely 2 and a half day trip to Portland where I got to spend some time chillin' with my old buddy and fellow only child Louanne.
To summarize the trip:
Half-price Lemon Drops and Buffalo Chicken Pizza +
Reminicing about both She-Ra and Jem and the Holograms (after half price Lemon Drops) + Kicking the day off with bagels and lox and coffee +
Manicures and haircuts and spa-filled fun +
Watching "Pretty In Pink" while eating Thai food +
Tax-free shopping at Kiehls and Lush and Powells bookstore +
Sunshine and the chance to meet Vince the Wonder Fish =
A very nice weekend indeed. Thanks to my hostess!
To summarize the trip:
Half-price Lemon Drops and Buffalo Chicken Pizza +
Reminicing about both She-Ra and Jem and the Holograms (after half price Lemon Drops) + Kicking the day off with bagels and lox and coffee +
Manicures and haircuts and spa-filled fun +
Watching "Pretty In Pink" while eating Thai food +
Tax-free shopping at Kiehls and Lush and Powells bookstore +
Sunshine and the chance to meet Vince the Wonder Fish =
A very nice weekend indeed. Thanks to my hostess!
Monday, April 24, 2006
On the Topic of Carl the Panda
Several years ago, after a particularly soul-crushing day at work, my friend and I decided that our office needed a mascot.
A mascot, we thought, would cheer us up, create pep to motivate our myriad mundane tasks, offer comfort on our down days and serve as a much-needed distraction from our regularly scheduled abuse and mistreatment.
We debated several mascot options, including an imaginary fabulously flamboyant gay boy named Trey that would give us makeovers and share his collection of genuine Dolly Parton wigs with us. We imagined what it would be like to go clubbing with Trey and how fantastic it would be to go for drinks and dish about our co-workers' bad fashion choices.
But then we met Carl. (Or rather, imagined to meet Carl.) Carl was a panda that would work at our office providing basic administrative and emotional support. Carl could get you a cup of coffee while you were on a conference call, but he could also headbutt you and give you a snuggle after you got yelled at by your boss. Mostly, he was there to listen. He was the snuggliest and more adorable imaginary mascot EVER.
I mean, think about it. Imagine (if you can) that a live panda bear worked in your office/school/hospital/spaceship/whatever and was there to help you out in meetings, or just offer snuggles when you had a bad day. Would there be ANYTHING FINER THAN THAT, I ASK YOU?
Imagine the conversation taking place in this picture:
Office professional (and apparent Michigan alum): "Jesus, Carl, PowerPoint just drives me freakin' insane. I just couldn't get slide 34 to print in Notes View for that messaging meeting!"
Carl: I'm listening. Would it help if you rubbed my tiny furry ears? They're very soft.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
The Piglet Slayer has a new book out!
You can bet your collective bippies that I’m all over this one.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Phrases I will likely never say in my lifetime
“Look, let’s just make things easy on everyone. We can take my minivan.”
“Who’s up for a trip to the eel farm?!”
“Why yes, I’d love more boiled celery, thanks!”
“The liberal media can complain all they want, but I have complete and utter faith that the Bush administration is doing the right thing."
"Pardon me, ma'am, is that your spleen on the floor?"
“Who’s up for a trip to the eel farm?!”
“Why yes, I’d love more boiled celery, thanks!”
“The liberal media can complain all they want, but I have complete and utter faith that the Bush administration is doing the right thing."
"Pardon me, ma'am, is that your spleen on the floor?"
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Janes, I'm giving up
You read it here, folks, I am officially giving up on Janes Austen and Eyre.
As I continue with my spring cleaning kick, I've been filtering out my excess books that really could make themselves more useful at the used book store a block away. Some of these are just lame books that I don't understand why I bought in the first place. Others are really great books that I genuinely enjoyed reading (Bel Canto, for example), but that I don't really need to keep in my library for the next twenty years.
And then. Then there are the heartbreakers -- the classics. A few years ago, I got on a kick to read many of the classic books that I never got around to reading in high school or college. These including Jane Eyre, Tess of the D'Urbervilles, Pride & Prejudice, Madame Bovary, etc. I ask you, have these books been touched since I brought them home? Have I read even one page of any of them? Have I taken them off the bookshelf even once and read so much as the back covers? Siiigh. You get the picture.
So as I was going through my bookshelves pruning out the titles that aren't going to make the cut in the long term, I struggled over Jane Eyre and other weighty titles for a long time. They got thrown into the "sell" pile, then got guiltily fished out, then got thrown back in again. Finally I've given up -- they are all staying in the sell pile. My AP English teacher may be clucking her tongue at me in disapproval somewhere in the Denver suburbs, but spring cleaning has never been for the faint hearted.
I've accepted my fate as a woman that will never be able to wow her collegues at a business dinner with a witty retort about Emma Bovary, nor will I apparently be able to decipher the inside joke when someone makes a joke about Mr. Darcy over cocktails.
And, okay, wisenheimers, I'll stop you right there because I know you're all sitting there in frotn of your computers thinking, "Um, who are these people making jokes about Mr. Darcy that she's all worried about? Does this actually happen in real life or is she confusing it with a scene in an Emma Thompson movie?"
But I swear to God, people, you just wait, you will be a dinner somewhere, sometime, someplace and something related to Jane Eyre WILL COME UP, and you will be proud and smug that you read that book in high school like the rest of us should have done in the first place.
As I continue with my spring cleaning kick, I've been filtering out my excess books that really could make themselves more useful at the used book store a block away. Some of these are just lame books that I don't understand why I bought in the first place. Others are really great books that I genuinely enjoyed reading (Bel Canto, for example), but that I don't really need to keep in my library for the next twenty years.
And then. Then there are the heartbreakers -- the classics. A few years ago, I got on a kick to read many of the classic books that I never got around to reading in high school or college. These including Jane Eyre, Tess of the D'Urbervilles, Pride & Prejudice, Madame Bovary, etc. I ask you, have these books been touched since I brought them home? Have I read even one page of any of them? Have I taken them off the bookshelf even once and read so much as the back covers? Siiigh. You get the picture.
So as I was going through my bookshelves pruning out the titles that aren't going to make the cut in the long term, I struggled over Jane Eyre and other weighty titles for a long time. They got thrown into the "sell" pile, then got guiltily fished out, then got thrown back in again. Finally I've given up -- they are all staying in the sell pile. My AP English teacher may be clucking her tongue at me in disapproval somewhere in the Denver suburbs, but spring cleaning has never been for the faint hearted.
I've accepted my fate as a woman that will never be able to wow her collegues at a business dinner with a witty retort about Emma Bovary, nor will I apparently be able to decipher the inside joke when someone makes a joke about Mr. Darcy over cocktails.
And, okay, wisenheimers, I'll stop you right there because I know you're all sitting there in frotn of your computers thinking, "Um, who are these people making jokes about Mr. Darcy that she's all worried about? Does this actually happen in real life or is she confusing it with a scene in an Emma Thompson movie?"
But I swear to God, people, you just wait, you will be a dinner somewhere, sometime, someplace and something related to Jane Eyre WILL COME UP, and you will be proud and smug that you read that book in high school like the rest of us should have done in the first place.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Spring Cleaning
It's spring cleaning time in the World of Beth this week, so I need to keep this short.
After taking a microfiber cloth* to every surface in my apartment, I've also begun digging through my pantry and closets and bookshelves and resolved to Get Rid of Clutter. This is a difficult task because, as anyone who's ever been to my apartment can tell you, it's a waste land of books and candles and picture frames and girlie trinkets that sit on shelves gathering dust and cat hair. For example, I actually own a pink chocolate fondue pot.**
Sure its got its charm and a killer Space Needle view, but at only 500 square feet, my apartment is feeling a little overwhelmed by the "excess charm" packed so tightly onto every surface. So far I've wittled it down by three bags of trash, four bags of books I'm never going to read and about five pounds of dust, so progress is definintely being made.
*Can I take a moment and talk about microfiber clothes? I mean, people, have you USED THESE THINGS? SERIOUSLY? I've only recently discovered them thanks to Real Simple magazine's special issue on Spring Cleaning*** and they are sent directly from heaven. They pick up Puff hair, lint, dust - you name it - all without chemicals or cleaning agents. LOVE THEM.
** I'm not knocking the pink fondue pot, per se, it's cute as hell but I've owned it now for two years and have never, ever, not even once, made chocolate fondue in it. World at Large, would you like to come over for some chocolate fondue?
***Yes, I'm now officially old enough to actually choose to read a magazine devoted to Spring Cleaning. I'm as upset about it as you are, believe me.
After taking a microfiber cloth* to every surface in my apartment, I've also begun digging through my pantry and closets and bookshelves and resolved to Get Rid of Clutter. This is a difficult task because, as anyone who's ever been to my apartment can tell you, it's a waste land of books and candles and picture frames and girlie trinkets that sit on shelves gathering dust and cat hair. For example, I actually own a pink chocolate fondue pot.**
Sure its got its charm and a killer Space Needle view, but at only 500 square feet, my apartment is feeling a little overwhelmed by the "excess charm" packed so tightly onto every surface. So far I've wittled it down by three bags of trash, four bags of books I'm never going to read and about five pounds of dust, so progress is definintely being made.
*Can I take a moment and talk about microfiber clothes? I mean, people, have you USED THESE THINGS? SERIOUSLY? I've only recently discovered them thanks to Real Simple magazine's special issue on Spring Cleaning*** and they are sent directly from heaven. They pick up Puff hair, lint, dust - you name it - all without chemicals or cleaning agents. LOVE THEM.
** I'm not knocking the pink fondue pot, per se, it's cute as hell but I've owned it now for two years and have never, ever, not even once, made chocolate fondue in it. World at Large, would you like to come over for some chocolate fondue?
***Yes, I'm now officially old enough to actually choose to read a magazine devoted to Spring Cleaning. I'm as upset about it as you are, believe me.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Carnage in the Kitchen: Doorknobs Optional
This post is long overdue, and in fact I can’t believe I haven’t shared this with the World at Large because it’s really quite good.
So for my birthday, someone (hi there!) got me a DVD of the Best of Julia Child’s The French Chef. As many of you know, I freakin’ LOVE Julia Child. I mean, I LOVE her. SERIOUSLY. Well it took me a while to sit down and watch some of the episodes, but during my week off a while back, I made the time. I started with a swordfish episode that seemed innocent enough. Then I watched a roast goose. And then I selected the “Roast Suckling Pig” episode. Which was, my friends, one of the most horrific and traumatizing and terrifying and also hilarious things I have witnessed in my lifetime.
For one, it’s easy to forget the fact that a “suckling pig” is basically a baby piglet until you see it right there on screen with its baby pig ears and face and pink little tail and hooves and all of that. Ideally, Julia recommends that the pig should not yet be weaned from its mother’s milk; otherwise the flesh apparently takes on a whole different flavor. This gave me a bad case of the shivers, and not in a good way.
The hilarious part comes from the fact that 6 foot-2 Julia Child is patting a baby piglet’s behind and warbling in that trademark voice of hers about how to prepare a 12-pound suckling pig as though it were the most natural, normal thing in the world. She makes it sound not any different from mixing up a batch of Toll House cookies.
Next up, Julia advises, in her Julia Child voice, to start off by shaving any hairs off of the piglet’s face and snout. That’s right, you should SHAVE YOUR DINNER’S FACE. You should also take time to brush its teeth too. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP.
Then, after you get it oiled up and stuffed with veggies (a process that was so barbaric and hideous I can’t even talk about it)…..no. Wait. I have to talk about that step. Because when Julia Child stitches up the baby piglet’s belly (as you might, with a chicken, for example), she doesn’t just use a trussing needle and string. Oh no, friends. She uses 3-INCH METAL FINISHING NAILS, like the kind a carpenter (or an S & M dominatrix?) might have handy, to keep the baby piglet’s belly shut.
And the carnage isn’t done yet. Oh NO. The final step before roasting is to place an object into the piglet’s mouth during cooking so that it can stay open for the decorative apple that it customarily placed in its jaws. So what does she recommend? Not a potato (they get mushy). You could use a wadded up ball of aluminum foil, as Julia does there. Or, she advises, you could also use (a) a block of wood or (b) a doorknob, if you have one handy.
Let me repeat that. OR A DOORKNOB, if you have one handy. After you shave your baby piglet’s face, brush its teeth, stuff its belly and close it with metal nails, you should put a DOORKNOB in its jaws. I swear to God I was not on drugs when I watched this episode. In fact, several people watched it with me and none of THEM were on drugs. Instead there was a group of us, some of whom were total strangers, unable to turn away and writhing on the floor in horror and fascination and hilarity at the totally in-freakin’-sane dish that Julia was preparing. Which is more of a reaction that I can say I got the last time I made Toll House cookies.
Lesson learned: Julia Child kicks some major ass. You just have to have the stomach to watch her do it.
So for my birthday, someone (hi there!) got me a DVD of the Best of Julia Child’s The French Chef. As many of you know, I freakin’ LOVE Julia Child. I mean, I LOVE her. SERIOUSLY. Well it took me a while to sit down and watch some of the episodes, but during my week off a while back, I made the time. I started with a swordfish episode that seemed innocent enough. Then I watched a roast goose. And then I selected the “Roast Suckling Pig” episode. Which was, my friends, one of the most horrific and traumatizing and terrifying and also hilarious things I have witnessed in my lifetime.
For one, it’s easy to forget the fact that a “suckling pig” is basically a baby piglet until you see it right there on screen with its baby pig ears and face and pink little tail and hooves and all of that. Ideally, Julia recommends that the pig should not yet be weaned from its mother’s milk; otherwise the flesh apparently takes on a whole different flavor. This gave me a bad case of the shivers, and not in a good way.
The hilarious part comes from the fact that 6 foot-2 Julia Child is patting a baby piglet’s behind and warbling in that trademark voice of hers about how to prepare a 12-pound suckling pig as though it were the most natural, normal thing in the world. She makes it sound not any different from mixing up a batch of Toll House cookies.
Next up, Julia advises, in her Julia Child voice, to start off by shaving any hairs off of the piglet’s face and snout. That’s right, you should SHAVE YOUR DINNER’S FACE. You should also take time to brush its teeth too. I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP.
Then, after you get it oiled up and stuffed with veggies (a process that was so barbaric and hideous I can’t even talk about it)…..no. Wait. I have to talk about that step. Because when Julia Child stitches up the baby piglet’s belly (as you might, with a chicken, for example), she doesn’t just use a trussing needle and string. Oh no, friends. She uses 3-INCH METAL FINISHING NAILS, like the kind a carpenter (or an S & M dominatrix?) might have handy, to keep the baby piglet’s belly shut.
And the carnage isn’t done yet. Oh NO. The final step before roasting is to place an object into the piglet’s mouth during cooking so that it can stay open for the decorative apple that it customarily placed in its jaws. So what does she recommend? Not a potato (they get mushy). You could use a wadded up ball of aluminum foil, as Julia does there. Or, she advises, you could also use (a) a block of wood or (b) a doorknob, if you have one handy.
Let me repeat that. OR A DOORKNOB, if you have one handy. After you shave your baby piglet’s face, brush its teeth, stuff its belly and close it with metal nails, you should put a DOORKNOB in its jaws. I swear to God I was not on drugs when I watched this episode. In fact, several people watched it with me and none of THEM were on drugs. Instead there was a group of us, some of whom were total strangers, unable to turn away and writhing on the floor in horror and fascination and hilarity at the totally in-freakin’-sane dish that Julia was preparing. Which is more of a reaction that I can say I got the last time I made Toll House cookies.
Lesson learned: Julia Child kicks some major ass. You just have to have the stomach to watch her do it.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Domestic Lessons Learned
Apparently those folks on the Food Network know what they’re talking about.
The Barefoot Contessa once explained, as she was making a cake (or something), that when it came time to crack the eggs into the batter, she actually cracked them first into a separate bowl rather than just throwing them directly into the mix. She explained that she did this as a precautionary measure so that if any of the eggs were bad, it wouldn’t ruin the whole mixture.
And this never occurred to me as being particularly brilliant or necessary until this weekend. When, as I was making pumpkin bread, I instantly ruined an entire batch of batter thanks to one nasty bad egg.
Siiiiiiiiigh.
The Barefoot Contessa once explained, as she was making a cake (or something), that when it came time to crack the eggs into the batter, she actually cracked them first into a separate bowl rather than just throwing them directly into the mix. She explained that she did this as a precautionary measure so that if any of the eggs were bad, it wouldn’t ruin the whole mixture.
And this never occurred to me as being particularly brilliant or necessary until this weekend. When, as I was making pumpkin bread, I instantly ruined an entire batch of batter thanks to one nasty bad egg.
Siiiiiiiiigh.
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