Maneki Neko Espresso Cup:
Ever since I started remodeling the kitchen, I’ve had the great majority of my dishes in storage, which has been devastating for me. What am I to do without all my decorative dishes? I have plates used exclusively for macarons and antique bowls and chopsticks and other things and I’ve had to make do without them for months. I think I’ll finally be able to put them in their new cases very soon and I’m beyond thrilled. Anyway, the other day, I was doing yoga in my bedroom and was staring at my collection of maneki neko that are sitting on a built in shelf with my collection of ancient Egyptian ushabti figurines. As I was gazing at them, I remembered that one was a teacup! You turn the cat upside down and it becomes the perfect espresso cup. I don’t know why Asian teacups are so small, but I’m delighted. It’s not the most practical thing, the legs aren’t the most stably positioned, but I’m not really bothered. I feel so elegant as I wander back through my memories to the day I bought it at the Japanese Embassy in Paris. That’s one of my favorite places in the entire city and I highly suggest you visit when you’re in Paris next.
Being A Fashionista:
You never knew me when I was young, for which I’m infinitely pleased. I was hideous. I had long hair, I was fat, I had bad skin. Thank Buddha, I blossomed when I left my teenage years. Everybody always rhapsodizes fondly over their youth, but I have no desire to go back there. It was a boring and ugly time, plus I’d have to go back to school and I know that I would be the worst student now. I wouldn’t do anything! When I was in school, I had a 4.0 and I did all my work and I had no fun. Whatever. When I was in high school, I didn’t know how to dress. I’d spend days in jeans that holes ripped in them and oversized sweatshirts with the Cheerios logo emblazoned on them. I seemed to have gone out of my way to look disgusting. When I was a senior, I began to grow into my body, I guess, a bit more, and I started to feel better about myself, but I could hardly consider myself fashionable. But now that I’ve lived in Paris on several occasions, I’m catwalk ready all day every day. I love wearing nice clothes–I have a custom fitted suit, for Allah’s sake! Today I’m dressed like a sailor from the fifties. Yesterday, though, was a triumph. I blogged about my kitten pocket shirt earlier, but I’ll give you a refresher. I took the boring pocket off of a boring white shirt me whipped together a new pocket out of some gaudy kitten fabric. It was a goddamn triumph of fashion and I heard nothing but compliments about it. It was a delight to wear something that nobody else would wear. I like to stand out. Never used to, now I love it. Look at me!
I’ve already picked out next year’s resolution. I’m way ahead of schedule and I wish I had selected it for this year. As lovely as having abs is going to be–cold, too, since I’ll refuse to wear a shirt–it’s quite a lot of work. Work I don’t really want to do. Exercise blows. Exercise sucks. It’s every euphemism for oral sex. This is a weird introduction to TripAdvisor. Oh, next year’s resolution is to review a restaurant each week. I’ll gorge and write about it. Good fun. Not sure I’ll still have the abs after that. Now that I’m an adult and have to pay for my own food, I have finally convinced my family to go to nice restaurants. I’m obsessed with Django’s and Centros in downtown Des Moines, but I also love Pita Pit and Noodles & Company. I have become obsessed with reading reviews of places in Des Moines and have a long list of places I need to try. Next week, I’m going to Proof, and I’m ecstatic. The food looks freaking amazing and the reviews are universally complimentary. Yesterday, I was reading reviews in my favorite French village, Villefranche-sur-mer and I need to take a trip so that I can eat at L’Aparte. It looks so good and I love that it’s in the Rue Obscure. I love the Rue Obscure! It was once a regular street that has its beginnings in the 12th century. Over the centuries, buildings started to cantilever over the street and finally it became totally covered up. It’s now a tunnel that’s like a cavern that’s dark and creepy and I’m obsessed with it. It ends in a charming courtyard. I need to go to Villefranche again. Maybe that’s really where I should go for the summer. I’m working on a book that is set there and I suppose I should do some research for a month. Research on the beach, mind you.
I don’t have any tomato bisque from Django in front of me right now and that’s a major issue. I’ve had different tomato soups all over this continent and Europe, but there is nothing that compares to the rich, divine creaminess of the bisque found at my favorite restaurant, Django, if I haven’t made that clear in the past. My second favorite soup comes in a box at Monoprix in Paris. It’s more of a traditional soup, but I think it must have crack in it or something–it’s like a drug, and when you dip a fresh poppy seed baguette from Miss Manon, you can’t help but have a foodgasm. In a pinch, the tomato soup from Noodles & Company works well. It’s a bit too chunky and a bit too acidic, but it’s better than a good many tomato soups you can get. Anyway, I’m craving another bowl of soup from Djangos. I need the recipe. I wonder if I can get it somehow? The chef is from Perry, maybe I know somebody who knows him who will get me a copy. I’d make it every day. I’d eat it every day. I’m obsessed with it. I have a recipe for tomato bisque that I need to make. Maybe I’ll do it tonight. We’re getting out of work early, don’t have work tomorrow, and then it’s the weekend. Holla for a 3.5 day weekend!
ANTM Cycle 20 Cast:
I don’t want to sound like a bitch, but I’m going to, and I’m not really that upset about it. As you probably know (because of my constant hissy fits that can be heard on either coast), I did not make it to the next round of casting and am going to be nothing but an annoyed spectator wondering, “WHY?!?!?!” the entire time. I’ve already begun. I need this purse for my viewing parties.
I just assumed that Tyra had found gentleman with more beautiful faces and abs that could cut steel. I was okay with this. I would never be upset with somebody who was more beautiful than me. I can’t help that. They can’t help that. It’s just the way it is. But then, Jessica called me up and shouted, “I KNOW WHY YOU DIDN’T MAKE IT ON CYCLE 20! IT MUST BE THE UGLY SEASON.” I thought she was joking and trying to make me feel better, because I’d been rather depressed by the whole situation, but then I looked at the pictures and I haven’t stopped laughing, yet. She picked THEM? REALLY? I don’t mean to hate, but I look better after I’ve been hit in the face and left for dead in a gutter. All tea all shade. (That’s a drag queen way of saying, I’m telling you like it is and the bitchiness is planned.) Let’s look at me for a little bit:
I’m assuming that in post production, she’s going to photoshop some sex appeal into them. I hate writing this. I know that somebody is going to see it, but I can’t help being bitter. If you’re one of the contestants, congratulations, I applaud you. It’s not you I hate. It really isn’t. It’s the production team. But…why was it you? Why wasn’t it me? This is under the things I loved this week, though, because looking at their…mug shots (no other word for it) made me feel really good about myself. Plus, a lot of people told me that I’m pretty, so whatever.
Not Having Three Day Weekends Every Week:
We don’t have work this Friday, and I’m thrilled for obvious reasons. No work. Easy to understand. I don’t mind working one bit, but I do like my time off, which is one of the perks of working in a school–you get the summers off. It’s brilliant. I could never work a job where I’m constantly chugging along with a week’s vacation every year. No thank you, I need time to luxuriate after the stresses of your children. I’m debating what to do this summer. I’ve had alternating thoughts. I could stay home and garden and loaf about, which would be cheap. I could go to Hollywood and stalk the stars and become a celebrity. I could go to Cairo and Luxor and tour all the ancient sites in Egypt I long to see. I could go back to Paris and buy baguettes aux pavots from my beloved old woman at Miss Manon. I could go back to London and start to understand the city better. I could go to Miami and tan. So many things. I hadn’t even thought about New York City. Anyway, I like my free time and that’s why I think that the work week should be four days long. I wouldn’t mind working for four ten hour days if I got a three day weekend every day. I enjoy an extra day–you feel as if you have enough time to actually be lazy and also to get things done. I like productive weekends blended wit luxurious time wasting. I’m looking forward to this weekend, even though the is supposed to be a massive snowstorm. Whatever.
What the eff ever happened to global warming? Or is this insanity the result of global warming? I thought we were all going to happily fry not shiver and freeze. It’s madness. Yesterday there was what I can only consider a joke of Satan’s–a surprise blizzard that lasted twenty minutes. I wanted to die. I’m so tired of snow. Why must it keep snowing? Why can’t I live on a beach? Now there is a massive storm preparing to descend on us and strike us on Thursday. I am not amused. I’m also annoyed that we aren’t calling this storm anything. It seems that every time there is a storm in the East, they give it a charming name like Nemo. I think we should call this one Dorie or Squishie. Yes, Squishie. Super storm Squishie. I wouldn’t mind a storm so much if it had that charming name. I’m lying, I’d still hate it. Worse than the mountains of snow that are sure to devastate us is the fact that the storm isn’t going to start until late on Thursday. We already have Friday off, so why can’t the storm kick off in the morning so we can get a four day weekend? You know what’s better than a three-day weekend? A four day weekend! Effing snow.
I stayed over at my brother’s house the other night and spent most of the evening doing Zumba and watching instructional twerking videos on YouTube. I’m getting a bit better, but I’ll never be a professional twerker. The first Zumba DVD was fun, it was just learning the basics and I was alright with that even though it tripped me up every time I had to do the left right left right right, right left right left left thing. Whatever. When we got to the actual dancing DVD, my body or my brain, not sure which, began failing me. I cannot do the merengue. I tried and tried but failed. Thankfully, I’m much better at the salsa and the Hindu-esque dance. That one was fun. I guess there’s a whole DVD filled with dances like that. I look forward to that one.
I am not freakishly tall. I’m not even as tall as I thought I was. I was always convinced that I’m six foot tall, but that’s only in shoes. Without them, I’m just a little over five eleven. Sad. Not really. Six foot tall sounds more attractive, though. Anyway, I don’t know if I’m not proportional or something, but I can never find shirts that fit just right. When they fit my shoulders and torso, they’re always too short for my arms. I have to roll up button ups so that they don’t look shrunk, and I always have to push the sleeves up on sweaters so that people don’t see that they only come down to my forearm. It’s so annoying. I should just get everything custom made. I have found a couple shirts by Tommy Hilfiger and Express that fit me better and that’s nice. I’m wearing one today in pink and I have been deluged by compliments.
People That Think Vegetarians Eat Fish:
This has annoyed me for the past two years. Vegetarians do not eat animals. Fish are animals. We do not eat fish. End of story. I don’t know how many times I have been asked if I eat fish after people find out that I’m a vegetarian. I can’t help but give a “are you that stupid” face each time. Look up the definition:
“Vegetarianism is the practice of abstaining from the consumption of meat–red meat, poultry, seafood, and the flesh of any other animal; it may also include abstention from by-products of animal slaughter, such as animal-derived rennet and gelatin.”
Not very complex. Yet, idiots abound. I called the Creole restaurant in Des Moines to see if they had any vegetarian items on their menu as I wanted to celebrate Mardi Gras. Guess what the woman on the phone told me? “Catfish…shrimp etoufee.” I was appalled. When I finally convinced her to stop telling me options that had seafood she told me they had red beans and rice (which are traditionally cooked with ham…facepalm) and a lame po’boy made with grilled vegetables. Needless to say, I went to Django where I gorged on good food. A Mexican restaurant in town also has shrimp on their vegetarian menu. I was annoyed. I’m still annoyed. Vegetarians aren’t super prevalent, but they will be–beef prices are going up and vegetables, fruits, and grains are always pretty cheap. Eat more of them. Speaking of vegetables and fruits, they’re delicious. I’m going to go eat a grapefruit.