1. I cannot remember if I like pinot noir or cab sav.
2. Same goes for salted or unsalted butter.
5.30.2009
Booker's Is The Poor Man's Workers Comp
broke my toe tonight.
broke my fucking toe.
running a 5K next week (for breast cancer, no less!!!) and broke my fucking toe. at work tonight. on this door. fell right off the track and must weigh 40 pounds at least.
broke my fucking toe.
running a 5K next week (for breast cancer, no less!!!) and broke my fucking toe. at work tonight. on this door. fell right off the track and must weigh 40 pounds at least.
5.28.2009
Soda Bread with Raisins
getting into baking these days...summer seems like an excellent time to heat my tiny kitchen up to 110 degrees.
also, steph and i went to the Heights last week. brunch is delicious, and should be eaten everywhere for every meal.
12.18.2008
I Will Never Say The Word Procrastinate Again
currently listening to Dead, that They Might Be Giants song about a bag of groceries. turns out that lyric is actually
"i came back as a bag of groceries
accidentally taken off the shelf
before the date stamped on myself".
not "before the date stamped on my sack".
i feel like that probably explains a lot.
"i came back as a bag of groceries
accidentally taken off the shelf
before the date stamped on myself".
not "before the date stamped on my sack".
i feel like that probably explains a lot.
10.01.2008
7.16.2008
This Kitten Has A Name
and her name is Mrs. Mia Wallace. but you can just call her Mia. or Friend, or Sigourney Weaver. it's cool...she doesn't respond to any of them.
however, she has gotten pretty good at responding to "No!".
i know, i know....pictures to come.
however, she has gotten pretty good at responding to "No!".
i know, i know....pictures to come.
7.08.2008
KITTEN TIMES!
pictures to come when she stops acting like she's too cool for school.
in the meantime:
in the meantime:
- she's very small and enjoys fighting the kitchen rug, meowing, and running at top speeds.
- some ideas for names include: phoebe, cellar door, rascal, pancake, and roast beef catains. both natty boh and jameson have been ruled out by my panel of advisors, as has bullitt, steve mcqueen, tegan, and jude.
6.26.2008
live blogging fried chicken times
6:03
defrosting chicken in bath of running water. all systems go.
6:07
hear tinkling noise. huh? oh, flooded the kitchen.
6:11
water mopped with bath towel.
6:12
defrost, take two. this time sink drain is not blocked by bowl holding chicken.
6:40
heating oil to 350 degrees. hand shaking, breaking into fine sweat.
6:45
time for the chickens' oil bath. wicked scary popping sounds. sloshing hot oil. burns avoided, but floor possibly dangerous.
6:46
decide to put on shoes, feel relieved for thinking to wear a shirt.
6:48
open second beer.
6:50
the longest seven minutes of my life. really? seven minutes per side? i wonder if the cookbook author can hear this sizzling.
6:51
notice that some oil has escaped down the side of the skillet, is perilously close to burner flame.
6:52
make mental note to buy fire extinguisher.
6:53
time to flip the chicken. more sizzling. notice how much oil smoke has been produced. put tiny fan in window. make mental note to buy a box fan/never make fried chicken again.
7:00
remove chicken from oil, drain. breathe sigh of relief as burner is turned off.
7:01
take healthy pull on beer can. sit down to pseudo live blog.
verdict:
i'm a fried chicken master. delicious.
defrosting chicken in bath of running water. all systems go.
6:07
hear tinkling noise. huh? oh, flooded the kitchen.
6:11
water mopped with bath towel.
6:12
defrost, take two. this time sink drain is not blocked by bowl holding chicken.
6:40
heating oil to 350 degrees. hand shaking, breaking into fine sweat.
6:45
time for the chickens' oil bath. wicked scary popping sounds. sloshing hot oil. burns avoided, but floor possibly dangerous.
6:46
decide to put on shoes, feel relieved for thinking to wear a shirt.
6:48
open second beer.
6:50
the longest seven minutes of my life. really? seven minutes per side? i wonder if the cookbook author can hear this sizzling.
6:51
notice that some oil has escaped down the side of the skillet, is perilously close to burner flame.
6:52
make mental note to buy fire extinguisher.
6:53
time to flip the chicken. more sizzling. notice how much oil smoke has been produced. put tiny fan in window. make mental note to buy a box fan/never make fried chicken again.
7:00
remove chicken from oil, drain. breathe sigh of relief as burner is turned off.
7:01
take healthy pull on beer can. sit down to pseudo live blog.
verdict:
i'm a fried chicken master. delicious.
6.25.2008
6.24.2008
Omens Everywhere
last night, walking home from evan's at 4 a.m. i passed a dead white rooster, laying like sleeping, a half block from his house.
out on the main road an ambulance with flashing lights was doing silent k-turns, driving up and down the same two blocks.
the only other car on the road (and the only source of sound besides my feet) was a cab. i took it. suddenly walking didn't seem so appealing after all.
out on the main road an ambulance with flashing lights was doing silent k-turns, driving up and down the same two blocks.
the only other car on the road (and the only source of sound besides my feet) was a cab. i took it. suddenly walking didn't seem so appealing after all.
6.20.2008
Hamburger Heaven
walked out of the metro today, and saw that the Five Guys is almost complete!
i'll have updates and photos as soon as time permits.
i'll have updates and photos as soon as time permits.
6.19.2008
6.14.2008
24 Hours In NYC
this DC summer has already gotten to me, has already gotten to my friends. it's probably a bad sign when we're already in need of a road trip the first week of june, but we've gone nonetheless.
we've soldiered on.
Megan, the Peaver and i dipped out to the only city which inspires salsa-related lynch mobs; New York City. and what a fantastic dipping-out it was.
our journey was blessed from the beginning, as is any decision made in a strip club late on a sunday night. the chinatown bus would be our mode of transport, and our itinerary would be flexible at best.
and so at 9:30 on monday morning we roared, triumphantly, out of this town. and a short four hours later, we were shoved out into the teeming, humid mess that is new york's chinatown (side note: authentic chinatowns have shops called things like Happy Time Wedding Love Center. no ruby tuesdays here.)
stop number one was for some 'za, natch. it was delicious. it was also a harbinger of the eating binge that was to come. in 24 hours i consumed three mr. softee cones, a lot of free cookies and cereal, more free cheese and red wine than can possibly be healthy (although i would have preferred shrimp and white wine), half my body weight in sushi, and a sizable amount of budweiser, PBR, and knob creek.
stop number two was to St. Mark's Ale House, where we downed frosty $2 buds and played Safari. we left home for a better-lit pharmacy bar. amazing.
and it was good to get in from the heat.
bellies full of beer, we headed to times square, as evan had never been. and here is where my impulses began to overpower my better judgements. you see, we were in need of lodging for the evening, and i was sweaty and had to pee and saw a hotel called the casablanca. done. we're staying here. i have a credit card, right?
well, it's a good thing my credit card has more than $400 on it. but it was totally worth it, if only for these two things:
this tiger guards the complimentary wine and cheese.
phone in the bathroom, y'all.
after loading up on the aforementioned wine and cheese, we head back to the east village and evan and i partake in that most sacred of our generation's rituals: the Brotoo.
hold steady fanboys.
my endorphins were high enough after the tattoos that much of the rest of the evening is a blur. i know we went to a few bars, where i played some Soul Asylum on the jukebox, and we played some more Safari whilst being served by a 40-year-old woman in a bikini.
soon enough i'll brave those efficient chinese, and this sweltering heat, and get back on up to NYC. stay tuned.
and next on my DC Summer Agenda: Jornado's King's Dominion Send-Off. get excited.
we've soldiered on.
Megan, the Peaver and i dipped out to the only city which inspires salsa-related lynch mobs; New York City. and what a fantastic dipping-out it was.
our journey was blessed from the beginning, as is any decision made in a strip club late on a sunday night. the chinatown bus would be our mode of transport, and our itinerary would be flexible at best.
and so at 9:30 on monday morning we roared, triumphantly, out of this town. and a short four hours later, we were shoved out into the teeming, humid mess that is new york's chinatown (side note: authentic chinatowns have shops called things like Happy Time Wedding Love Center. no ruby tuesdays here.)
stop number one was for some 'za, natch. it was delicious. it was also a harbinger of the eating binge that was to come. in 24 hours i consumed three mr. softee cones, a lot of free cookies and cereal, more free cheese and red wine than can possibly be healthy (although i would have preferred shrimp and white wine), half my body weight in sushi, and a sizable amount of budweiser, PBR, and knob creek.
stop number two was to St. Mark's Ale House, where we downed frosty $2 buds and played Safari. we left home for a better-lit pharmacy bar. amazing.
and it was good to get in from the heat.
bellies full of beer, we headed to times square, as evan had never been. and here is where my impulses began to overpower my better judgements. you see, we were in need of lodging for the evening, and i was sweaty and had to pee and saw a hotel called the casablanca. done. we're staying here. i have a credit card, right?
well, it's a good thing my credit card has more than $400 on it. but it was totally worth it, if only for these two things:
this tiger guards the complimentary wine and cheese.
phone in the bathroom, y'all.
after loading up on the aforementioned wine and cheese, we head back to the east village and evan and i partake in that most sacred of our generation's rituals: the Brotoo.
hold steady fanboys.
my endorphins were high enough after the tattoos that much of the rest of the evening is a blur. i know we went to a few bars, where i played some Soul Asylum on the jukebox, and we played some more Safari whilst being served by a 40-year-old woman in a bikini.
soon enough i'll brave those efficient chinese, and this sweltering heat, and get back on up to NYC. stay tuned.
and next on my DC Summer Agenda: Jornado's King's Dominion Send-Off. get excited.
2.28.2008
The Ides Of March Don't Scare Me
This may have something to do with my not being entirely clear on when they are. However, no time for fact checking! I've got things to say!
(ha. quick aside: i initially accidentally typed a question mark after that last sentence. or was it an accident?)
This spring promises to be the best one yet. I've temporarily left school, I'm saving up for some sick tattoos, and the Sox seem to want Jacoby Ellsbury and Bobby Kielty as their go-to guys in center field.
To add to my euphoria, it appears that my corner beer store is now consistently stocking this.
Guess how many I've had tonight? Closest guess wins a prize.
(ha. quick aside: i initially accidentally typed a question mark after that last sentence. or was it an accident?)
This spring promises to be the best one yet. I've temporarily left school, I'm saving up for some sick tattoos, and the Sox seem to want Jacoby Ellsbury and Bobby Kielty as their go-to guys in center field.
To add to my euphoria, it appears that my corner beer store is now consistently stocking this.
Guess how many I've had tonight? Closest guess wins a prize.
12.29.2007
Vengeful Ex-Girlfriends and Spiteful Appliances
Today I woke up early. Had to go to the bank, pay rent, etc. And since I was up before noon, I decided to do something with my morning. Seize the day and all that.
So I headed on down to Safeway and got a couple of things. Juice, a potato, some red bull...the essentials. I decided that today would be a good day, and that I would start it off with some breakfast. And breakfast, if done properly, necessitates a bloody mary. So now it's off to the canned juice aisle and then on home.
I get back to my place and whip up a fantastic meal. Eggs, fried potatoes, english muffin, juice. I'm pretty amazing. And as my meal is resting (yeah, I let my food rest after preparation), I turn my efforts towards assembling my bloody mary.
I fill my shaker with ice -side note: my ice was all half-melted and now I think someone is breaking in when I'm at work and filling my ice trays. This is the only way I can imagine why they wouldn't be totally solid- pour in a generous amount of Stoli, add the tomato juice and then start to get my seasonings together. As anyone will tell you, the seasonings are what make a fantastic bloody mary. So I get my Old Bay, and my Cholula hot sauce, and I reach into the cabinet for the Lea & Perrins.
And it's not there.
I find this to be odd, but assume it's just that I can't see it. It must be in the back of the spice cabinet, right?
Wrong.
And then it dawns on me...the Ex-Girlfriend took the Lea & Perrins with her when she moved out. I like to think this is solely to eff up my bloody mary plans. I can't see any other reason why she would take it. Hamburgers? Please. In the years we lived together, I think she pulled out her ol' George Foreman maybe four times. [insert vulgar comment here]
No, the Ex-Girlfriend stole the Worcestershire sauce because she knew that six months after I was on my own I would finally get my shit together enough to make breakfast.
But whatevs. I wasn't going to let this ruin my day. I finished making my bloody mary, sat down, ate my breakfast.
In keeping with my manic state of mind, I also resolved to do my dishes immediately upon finishing my meal. So I did them. This is not important. What is important is that when I had finished, I ran the garbage disposal, as that is the thing to do when one finishes their dishes.
And this mother of a cyclone comes roaring up out of my drain, spewing potato peels and eggshell bits and god knows what else all over my sink. I'm sometimes not so quick, and so I run the water, get all that shit back down the drain and let the disposal rip again.
Cyclone again, with the accompanying detritus.
Now I've got to get my building to come out on Wednesday and fix my disposal. Today is Saturday...I'm going to be pissed if it starts to stink in here.
And now I'm convinced that the Ex-Girlfriend broke in to steal my Worcestershire sauce, half-fill my ice trays, and wreck my garbage disposal.
This train of thought has gone on long enough. I think it's time for one more drink.
So I headed on down to Safeway and got a couple of things. Juice, a potato, some red bull...the essentials. I decided that today would be a good day, and that I would start it off with some breakfast. And breakfast, if done properly, necessitates a bloody mary. So now it's off to the canned juice aisle and then on home.
I get back to my place and whip up a fantastic meal. Eggs, fried potatoes, english muffin, juice. I'm pretty amazing. And as my meal is resting (yeah, I let my food rest after preparation), I turn my efforts towards assembling my bloody mary.
I fill my shaker with ice -side note: my ice was all half-melted and now I think someone is breaking in when I'm at work and filling my ice trays. This is the only way I can imagine why they wouldn't be totally solid- pour in a generous amount of Stoli, add the tomato juice and then start to get my seasonings together. As anyone will tell you, the seasonings are what make a fantastic bloody mary. So I get my Old Bay, and my Cholula hot sauce, and I reach into the cabinet for the Lea & Perrins.
And it's not there.
I find this to be odd, but assume it's just that I can't see it. It must be in the back of the spice cabinet, right?
Wrong.
And then it dawns on me...the Ex-Girlfriend took the Lea & Perrins with her when she moved out. I like to think this is solely to eff up my bloody mary plans. I can't see any other reason why she would take it. Hamburgers? Please. In the years we lived together, I think she pulled out her ol' George Foreman maybe four times. [insert vulgar comment here]
No, the Ex-Girlfriend stole the Worcestershire sauce because she knew that six months after I was on my own I would finally get my shit together enough to make breakfast.
But whatevs. I wasn't going to let this ruin my day. I finished making my bloody mary, sat down, ate my breakfast.
In keeping with my manic state of mind, I also resolved to do my dishes immediately upon finishing my meal. So I did them. This is not important. What is important is that when I had finished, I ran the garbage disposal, as that is the thing to do when one finishes their dishes.
And this mother of a cyclone comes roaring up out of my drain, spewing potato peels and eggshell bits and god knows what else all over my sink. I'm sometimes not so quick, and so I run the water, get all that shit back down the drain and let the disposal rip again.
Cyclone again, with the accompanying detritus.
Now I've got to get my building to come out on Wednesday and fix my disposal. Today is Saturday...I'm going to be pissed if it starts to stink in here.
And now I'm convinced that the Ex-Girlfriend broke in to steal my Worcestershire sauce, half-fill my ice trays, and wreck my garbage disposal.
This train of thought has gone on long enough. I think it's time for one more drink.
12.12.2007
Current likes: Chemical Imbalances and Vietnamese Food
Aha! This blog finally mentions food!
But first: The doctors gave me an official label on Monday. Now I get medication, and a valid excuse for my shitty behavior of late. I'm not much of a medication advocate, but all the same...
Upside to Medicine: my doctor said that I would feel like I'm on cocaine.
Downside to Medicine: I feel like I'm on cocaine. It's 3:24, and I can't sleep.
I think the upside wins.
Can't beat that shit with a stick.
Also! In twelve hours, I'll be gorging myself on pho. Which will be awesome.
But first: The doctors gave me an official label on Monday. Now I get medication, and a valid excuse for my shitty behavior of late. I'm not much of a medication advocate, but all the same...
Upside to Medicine: my doctor said that I would feel like I'm on cocaine.
Downside to Medicine: I feel like I'm on cocaine. It's 3:24, and I can't sleep.
I think the upside wins.
Can't beat that shit with a stick.
Also! In twelve hours, I'll be gorging myself on pho. Which will be awesome.
12.01.2007
Things That I Can't Take Anymore
1) the train wreck that is my job. to include:
- the Girl Who I Caught Cooking Heroin In The Bathroom.
- the Woman Who Daily Flips Her Shit, while retaining all the power imaginable.
- the Bar Back With A Temper Worse Than Mine who gets so stoned that he can barely see.
- the Man Who I Technically Outrank who gets away with more than the Woman Who Daily Flips Her Shit.
- the damage control.
- the rats.
- the stench.
- the Anal Retentive Serial Killer.
2) these crushing lows.
3) this lack of motivation; this lack of ambition.
4) all my newfound disorders. to include, but not limited to:
- panic attacks.
- my stutter.
-T.M.J.
11.26.2007
I can't remember this morning.
I was going to start this post off with how long I've been awake, but I realized that I couldn't remember what time I woke up today. It's coming to me now...1 p.m...but I find this totally unsettling. This insomnia is killing my brain more than any drug I've ever done. I don't know how I got here, to this place of chain-smoking, and clenched jaw, and finally winding down an hour before I have to get up for class. Sometimes I think it's that all the stress I've been internalizing is finally bubbling up to the surface. And if that's the case; well...things are about to get weird.
11.25.2007
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