Friday, December 28, 2007

train talking



Driving around DC, we caught this Kiss & Ride sign on one corner. I thought it was like a whoa, bizarre sign! moment. But it is merely a pedestrian (ho ho) occurrence.

Another chapter of transportation observations. Chapter one: the sweet sounds of adultery. Chapter two: the giggle-inducing bad repartee.

I'm sitting on the 1 subway and the squat lady in a hunter green coat next to me was placidly knitting a hunter green scarf. Perhaps hunter green is her favorite color. And the train fills up, as it does during the evening rush. And then, commotion near the doors! Somebody has trodden on somebody's foot! The horror, the horror!

Or more like, Lady A trips and steps on or into a duo of other ladies. (I don't know why I'm using the term "lady". It sounds vaguely Victorian. Lady Amelia Fotherington stepped swiftly into the carriage much to the confoundment and dismay of Sir Edmund Beef Wellington. Ho ho.) Duo lady #1 was like, Oh hey! or Ow! or some other admittedly angry or pained exclamation. Lady A FREAKS.OUT. In high strung tones, she wails about how it's not her fault. The duo mutter to themselves, really nothing to pay any attention to, if you are a normal human being. Lady A FREAKS.OUT.AGAIN. She's all like, "I don't understand why you have to say negative things about me! You don't know me! You can't judge me by my face! I'm getting married in five days! I'm just trying to make it! You don't know what I'm going through. JESUS CHRIST!"

Duo person #1: You can talk to him at church, praise him.

People giggle. Green lady knits, imperturbable, this one!

Lady Freak Out: (again!) I'm just trying to make it! I can't believe this!

They all get out at the next stop. This has taken place in the course of one stop. I always wonder about taking the 1 line one stop. At most it's like seven or eight blocks. Anyhow, maybe Lady Freak Out was having the worst day of her life. She is just trying to get through the day. Maybe she's afraid she won't be married because she freaks out every time someone says something. Maybe she was just thinking of that tune, "if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere?" and really taking that to heart.

People should just stop freaking out and be courteous. Like Lady Amelia Fotherington who, finally coming to her senses that Sir Edmund Wellington was a boor and a brute, to boot, bid him an efficient farewell.

Or they could be like the guy I saw on the 2, breaking out the mini liquor bottle and mixing its contents with those of his cheerfully holiday-festooned Starbucks cup. Coffee cocktails. How classy! AND economical.

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

womp womp



What is with this weather? All gloom and doom and no cheerful fluffy flakey things. They are all at the mall. The sky mall. Hahahahahaha. I totally didn't mean to make an airline shopping catalog reference... for snowflakes. Laughs at her own inadvertent joke: check! Can a joke even be inadvertent? I'm not liking how the word "inadvertant" is looking right now. I am going to avert my eyes.

I didn't have any holiday spirit this year. Presents went unbought, tree sits somewhere in some sad suburban lot, cookies and other baked goods plans fwoop! down the fwoop! tube. Perhaps that's where all my good intentioned plans go. Fwoop! And then to the sky mall.

General malaise. Grr. Arr. I don't think I had nearly enough vacation. That's the verdict.

Monday, December 10, 2007

Wha? del Mundo

Wikipedia says that in El Salvador, there's a National Pupusa Day, on the second Sunday of November. PUPUSAs. They are so cute and round and delicious. Corny cheesey babies.

Okay. I've only had them twice. But they were enough to convince me that pupusa days should be far more common 'round these parts. I had what Robyn might call "epic fail" on Saturday, because I performed amazingly poorly when it came to our jaunt to Bahia in Williamsburg. This is probably due to my staying out super late the night before and being an idiot imbiber. ANYHOW, you can read more about the foods at a passion for food.

The reason I'm really here is to share a little treat we heard at the restaurant and I just had to track down -> Treat. It's all like deceptively normal in the beginning but then... the breakdown! It's from this album and what else can brighten your gloomy Monday?

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

home on the skillet



On the train home, a blonde twenty-something was rolling through her words, slushingly loud for, you know, enclosed public space. Her companion, a salt and pepper-haired, British-ish man, was kissy kissy. Ain't nothing more romantic than discussing logistics with your mistress. She'll take the bus home! No big deal! Blondie also kept bringing up age, much to the discomfort of older man. She's going to turn twenty-seven, officially... her late twenties. OMG. He has wife and daughters. She has boyfriend with very Irish family and has names picked out for future offspring. Why, why, why so much information in ten minutes? How about a silent affair? Silence is sexy. Oh, Blondie, I don't think he's going to take you to London. Oh, I wanted to gouge my eyes out. Thank god they got off at the first stop. Affairs don't belong on the Northeast Corridor — they inspire thoughts of Murder on the Orient Express.

Next.

The cold is bracing, refreshing in some ways — some parts of me like winter — but otherwise it's scooping out chunks of my insides like I'm a tub of ice cream. This is very tiring. Being either a cat or a bear in my previous lifetime, I want to a) hibernate or failing that, b) take lots of naps. a) Going to work and b) dealing with most people were not on this reincarnation/former lives agenda. I'm yearning for hearths and homes and warm cups of sweet drinks and lazing and reading and baking and nice people, but this list is too idealistic and long for my current situation of both asian parent interference/suburban doldrumness/this-is-not-my-kitchenness or batty sublet manhattan crazy this-is-not-my-homeness. I know this arises from my own construction. I should have made something else, but you do what you can. Like I'm missing glue and glitter and all I can make is this origami triangle. Where is my ice-cream center? Is it far away from here?

Photo by: nancymesaaz

Monday, December 03, 2007

chocolate show



Uh, hello Chocolate Show. You are like a month old. You can gurgle and coo. And focus with your cacao bean eyes. Except you are over. Ok, metaphor gone wild. Wooo, show your words! Hahahaha.

Ah, brain, who needs one? So I guess this was a "trade show," so it's for vendors to get the word out about their products and pique some media and public interest blahblahblah? Or it's an opportunity for the mere mortals to pay $20-something to devour "free" samples in Augustus Gloop-like fashion, except you can't really do that because there is a huge crowd of people and also there aren't troughs of samples for chocolate piggies to snuffle around (or drown) in. I have to admit, it's all sort of a weird concept to me, but after making the rounds and sampling enough chocs to actually make me dizzy, I thought it was definitely fun times.

Su Good Sweets highlights some valid gripes about the show, which include charging for sweet, sweet, palate-cleansing bottles of water, needless booths for credit cards and hotels, and paying more for certain booths' samples. She also points out two booths that offered French truffles made with hydrogenated vegetable oil. I believe I bought one of those boxes of truffles for my officemates. Whoops! No wonder they were smoothilicious. But it's actually quite funny because as we were invited to try these samples, the lady with a very Frenchie accent was so threateningly severe: "DON'T CHEW EET. Let eet melt on your tongue! Eet iz an old French family recipe!" Was it all just bollocks? Was that a real accent? No wonder a box only cost like $7.

More than not, I intentionally passed on the NY-centric tables, like Chocolate Bar and stuff I saw all the time, like Lindt, Sweetriot cocoa nibs and Chocolove bars, though I couldn't resist me some Jacques Torres ménage à trois truffles. Sounds saucy doesn't it? They're truffles with three mystery flavors and the ones we tried were super yummy and I had NO idea what the flavors were. Me and my champion palate win gold medals from the supermarket quarter toy machines.
Some of my favorite parts of the day were trying chocolates — I think, at the Michel Cluizel booth — from different places and getting that duh! realization that they actually do taste different even with the same percentage of cocoa content. I hadn't really forayed into the whole origin-focused chocolate consuming thing — because of the plastic ball enclosed champion-ness of my palate — but now I'm more willing to give it a whirl.
The Japanese Mary's Chocolate had strikingly beautiful sweets and works in progress — the dude in the picture above is from that booth — but they were charging for everything and also there was a huge crowd. All in all, the different aesthetics and packaging choices of the companies were very interesting to note because they did have an effect on whether I was prompted to try or pass on them.

Bloomsberry, for example, went for the humorous packaging, which I thought was pretty cute, but it didn't get my tastebuds crying out for cocoa.
My other actual purchases were some chocolate lip balm from Sweet Beauty Spa, out of Seattle. The lip balms are made from all natural ingredients with good stuff like beeswax and babassu seed, aloe vera and avocado oils, etc., plus various strengths of organic/fair trade chocolate. It actually stays on pretty well if you can resist just eating it which is the point where you should just eat some regular non-oil-infused chocolate, but I've found the smell of putting some on is effective when I need a little psychological uplift or if I'm hungry.
I also got some bars of chocolate from Romanicos Chocolate, out of Florida. They had huge lines forming to try their 38 calorie truffles, which actually tasted pretty yummy to me. Their shtick is no preservatives and top notch fresh ingredients so no worries about partially hydrogenated oils there. I'm a little confused about how they don't use any (cocoa?) butter or sugar at all, so it's all cocoa solids... and how all that works. But I got two bars — Mission Fig and Sea Salt Soy Bean. I like the mission fig a lot — it's a nice balance between the really sweet fig and bittersweet dark chocolate. The sea salt soy bean is a little too overpowered by the extreme nuttiness of the soy bean for me, but of course I'm going to finish it, hello. In both cases though, the star doesn't seem to be the chocolate. Maybe it's all about the combination, or maybe there are "hundreds" of results in my gmail when you search "chocolate," maybe I have four different kinds of chocolate bars in my desk drawers. "Whatevers."
I did fail in my attempt to find a nice salted caramel chocolate. I tried Charles chocolates' version but the flavors were way too muted for my liking, though I did enjoy their raspberry truffle which tasted like actual fresh raspberries. I've become a little obsessed with that salty-sweet caramel flavor combination and my favorite in chocolate terms so far has been Fran's and I should have picked up some of Recchiuti's when I was in SF.
Why is this so long? I should have just posted ZOMGOGGOWQWE_E!!! I love chocolate wheeee!
There was an interesting piece about chocolate and the company Dagoba, specifically, in the New Yorker by Bill Buford but that's not available so look at the pictures! And here's a chocolate blog! And here's robyn's flickr set of the chocolate show!
This is no fun when you can't taste the things.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

energy bars go up

My new fav to bop around to. Sometimes I need boppy music like I need coffee.

This morning I passed one of those anorexic trees on the road that dogs usually pee on and there on the ground by this skinny tree festooned with holiday lights (yes, it's that time!) were three or four perfectly fine-looking bok choy. And I exclaimed, "Sad!" Out loud.

What filter?

That has nothing to do with anything. Wakey wakey!



Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Múm at Wordless



Sigh, how do people manage to do everything? This efficiency thing, I shake my head. It's totally been awhile 'round these parts, because I forgot how to log on here, AGAIN. And then also, it's getting to me that this version of movable type is like a dinosaur, and not even a cool menacing (but soft-hearted) dinosaur that lays eggs made of chocolate.

This is a review of the Múm concert I went to a few weeks ago with Robyn (who took that thar picture) and her friend. Why is that picture so small, you may ask? Well, it's a little-known fact (ha!) that this was a concert for lilliputians. Just kiddingggg. You can't be Icelandic AND lilliputian. So I don't know how to use flickr! Give me a dinosaur egg of chocolate!

This was part of the Wordless Music series — it was in a church! Oodles of acoustic-y goodness, for Múm, at least. I kinda dug Torngat, whose cds got held up at the border. Between Canada and the US. Maybe the border guards got mad that their money is the equivalent of ours. And took it out on music with french horn and trumpet. Tra-la-la. Or Trà-là-là. Whatever.

Jihyun Kim played the first Bach cello suite and a Ligeti cello sonata. I was a little apprehensive about the Ligeti because we sang one of his pieces in choir once and it was scary, like fingernails on chalkboards. He is probably most well known for his musical work on some Kubrick films. Scary! But this piece is actually pretty cool, I think. Except it kind of disappeared into the air at the church, barely hit the high ceilings, and came back to my ears as soft mush. Baby food of music. I found a video of her playing the same piece. Kind of awesomely impressive. So I wish her stuff had been clearer at the performance. Oh well.

And then we got Korean food.

That should be the ending for all days. Including life. "I died, and then we got Korean food."

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Beirut, Colleen, Wordless, PostEverything

Wow, look, the most uncreative post title ever. I guess I could have strung them into a refrigerator magnet poetry sort of sentence. Colleen wordlessly went to Beirut to post everything she knew about cauliflower. Ha ha ha. That is not remotely entertaining. Or nearly entertaining.

I meant to put up this review of the Wordless Music concert I went to like a month ago, with Beirut and Colleen. The Wordless series are these concerts that pair indie type popular artists with classical to, you know, break down the artificial divide or whatever. There was going to be a whole discussion on the idea of classical music and 'indie' and (possible) intersecting audiences and pieces. But you know what? I'm a big lazy laze. So I'll just leave you with the review for now.

Here's the video from one of my favorite Colleen tracks, "I'll Read You a Story." You know me, use music box things in a song and I'll eat it for breakfast. Mmm crunchy. Metal. Bittersweet. There are those magnets again.

Also, while rooting around exploring Colleen's discography, I found a great site called PostEverything. It's like a small, cosy record store where you can browse around the eclectic-a and discover random, lesser-known artists. Except it's on the interweb! No mean hipster sales people! Just register and you can listen to full tracks. I haven't gotten a chance to look around at the many artists they offer, but looks cool.

Monday, October 22, 2007

kudos

Did you know that kudos is the plural form of kudo?? I shake my head. The wonders of the verbal world never cease. I had to look it up after I saw it in a NYT headline today. Remember kudos bars? I used to have those at my friend's house. And watch TV and stuff. It was like, totally awesomer than practicing piano. I also would confuse kudos with klondike bars. Congratulations, here's some ice cream! But then I also thought UV rays were called ultraviolent — you know, cuz they are harmful. It's LOGICAL.

I like how somebody at merriam-webster got a little snippy in this note on the usage of the word kudos. Maybe they got too many ultraviolent rays.
But kudo does exist; it is simply one of the most recent words created by back-formation from another word misunderstood as a plural. Kudos was introduced into English in the 19th century; it was used in contexts where a reader unfamiliar with Greek could not be sure whether it was singular or plural. By the 1920s it began to appear as a plural, and about 25 years later kudo began to appear. It may have begun as a misunderstanding, but then so did cherry and pea.


Sunday, October 14, 2007

kimchi confidential



My friend Caroline and I have started a new food blog about Korean food called Kimchi Confidential. It is rad. And so are people who visit it... as well as people who say "rad."

food studies




When I was in San Francisco briefly this past June, I passed by a bar called "Social Studies." What a great name. So perfect! Plus you can have dorky quiz nights! But I can't find proof of it on the interwebs. I should have gone in and done some social studying of my own. Oh ho!

Was "Social Studies" at school just another word for "History"? I can't remember. See! This is why there's no way I'm naturally adept at these subjects. Because I have the memory of mouse brain. I'm pretty good at rushing around a maze-like contraption to find a chunk of cheese though. Not like neon orange cheese though. Puh-lease. I am a gourmand mouse-brain, thank you very much.

So I recently finished David Kamp's United States of Arugula, but not recently enough to have a bunch of cool, intriguing facts I learned from it to entice you to read it. This melting pot — no, mixed salad (oh ho! ok I'll stop doing that) — of information is admirably comprehensive and jam-packed (mm!) in that you can go through and find just about every foodie-related proper noun you can think of, but delivered in an easy to read reporting tone and an easy to read, near-gossipy dishiness. Mrowr! The latter might put people off, but it seems to resonate with the close-knitness of the food world and the undoubtably "character" characters which inhabit it.

I had sort of a 'duh' moment when I realized that not only were foods like pizza and sushi uncommon in the food-consciousness of Americans, but more recent terms like "free range" actually come from somewhere! And stores like Dean & Deluca and Williams-Sonoma are named after people! One thing I was delighted to learn and that I do recall is how Wolfgang Puck sort of originated with the Chinese chicken salad, an idea that has landed on menus far and wide, just one example of how certain innovations and innovators have influences that bloom geographically and across classes, in ways good and bad. (Here is a funny video of Margaret Cho talking about Asian chicken salad.)

Michael Ruhlman's The Reach of a Chef overlaps with US of Arugula in the discussion of the business part of being a famous chef and what that entails. Hello Las Vegas! Ruhlman's is a more intimate book, focusing on individual chefs like Thomas Keller and Grant Achatz in addition to giving us his own voice and experience. Ruhlman's writing is generally closer to my hungry heart, I think, but these two books are nice to read together. These times are interesting as we're able to watch "food studies" become this actual field, I guess, as the consciousness of consumers (well, errr, humans) grow.

P.S. I am glad I am young enough to have missed the fad of dishes like this: pear halves in green Jell-O topped with a dollop of mayonnaise and grated cheddar cheese. GROSS! And people complain about offal?!

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

bat for lashes - fur and gold

Review of Bat for Lashes's Fur and Gold.

I started out thinking that this album was just okay. But then it grew on me, but in a weird way. Not like a third head. Or... um, a second. Heads with very little brain, obviously. Anyways, I gave this a very high score, but it's not music that I hold dear to my heart or anything. It's not, like, on my Facebook favorites list, okay? Or I guess a better description of how I feel is, I won't travel to see Bat for Lashes live, though I hear the shows are pretty great. Something about the connection is a little fuzzy. But every time I listened to some of the tracks, I had to admit to myself, this sounds really good. It's too bad the lyrics didn't add up.

You will like this if you like: to be just like Thom Yorke, Halloween, Victorian-gothic type imagery, Cat Power's voice, Tori Amos

Take a listen: Horse and I

Here's the fun video of What's a Girl To Do. Ridiculous and creepy and karaoke-worthy chorus, all at once!

What I didn't include in the review — I hated the piano lick (riff? I dunno what to call it. "Thing that lasts a few bars.") in "Prescilla" which you can hear at the end of this snippet, because it sounds like a bit from Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, which totally doesn't align with the mood of this. I'm assuming she didn't include it with this intention, but it makes me cringe everytime... although otherwise, I like this song a lot. Very Tori. Not very Whig. Hahahahahahaha. Sorry.


Tuesday, October 02, 2007

summer's overrrrr



Look at how my English has degenerated. All I feel the urge to do is put excessively additional letters to the end of words. Can something even be excessively additional? Am I living in a world of redundancy and duncery?? I raise my cap to you. I'll drink to that.

LOL. Can you tell it's totally past my bedtime? I'm not sure my words are even words. Does anybody still do "LOL"? I mean, that was kinda lame even in the late '90s. I preferred, and still do, the more maniacal hahahahahahha or hohohohohoho, etc. etc.

I can't believe it's been half a month since I put up something here last. It's already freaking October. What the hell have I been up to? Oh the mind numbing nothingness....

Lately, I find that I've been having trouble keeping up with all my regular blogs. I've recently switched over from kinja to google reader, which makes it easier both for entries to pile up and not forget that you haven't read the past 20 or 200 things. Also, I guess I've become blasé about the countless bands and recipes and newsfeeds and stuff. There's the few that I always look forward to reading, but of course those aren't the ones with entries piling up. Scarcity increases demand? Hmmmmmm.

Like I have any demand to supply scarcity. I do it for free!

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

happy birthday or whatever



Recently I went one night to the U.S Open, and there was one really great shot and then I found myself waiting. For the replay. You know, because all great things should be repeated for our pleasure. Oh, isn't this the goal of human existence. And then I felt pretty dumb.

Anyways, books are not like tennis! You can replay them right away! From the comfort of your bed! And while eating some chocolate! Go books!

So I came upon Annie Choi through a series of links — that internet gets me everytime. First, there was this open letter to architects, which I thought was funny, but not as much as it would be if I actually had architect friends, not architect enemies. But I enjoyed her devil-may-care spirit, a certain je ne sais quoi (or, je ne sais choi? hohohoho), and then started reading her blog, and THEN, I read her book, Happy Birthday or Whatever: Track Suits, Kim Chee and Other Family Disasters.

I found myself evincing that human emotion called laughter. Like, many times. And then when I was done, I went back and read it again. There might have been chocolate involved. The book addresses all the touchstones and honored traditions in the palette of korean-american life — food, church, grades, karaoke, golf, engrish, motherland, inescapable mother, anger, misunderstanding. Just throw all those things together and you get a freaking kimchi smoothie. Gross, right?

But A.C. writes with the kind of humor and snarkitude where poignancy and insight are subtle and natural, with a certain depth. Characters, especially her mom, are brought to vivid, hilarious life, and she manages to shed light on cultural context, from different points of view, through her stories, instead of as her stories - if that makes any sense to you. It probably doesn't. It was refreshing to read this after this book (which I am still sorting my feelings, thoughts, frustrations out on).

I recommend this to anybody who likes to laugh, who knows a Korean mother, or is human. 75% human is okay too.

Did you notice I couldn't, like, call her "Choi" ("Choi writes with blahlblahblah)? Just feels funny. And I have an annoying habit of typing "Choir" when it's not my name. I have such an ego. Annie Choi is no relation of mine (well maybe super distant like when rice was currency), though perhaps she is related to the Janet Choi from California whose friends are getting married and having birthday parties and baby showers and sending me evites and photos because they have the wrong e-mail address.

Here is a PDF of the first chapter thing. If this were an album, it would be called, "the title track."

Monday, September 10, 2007

Mirah & Spectratone International - Share This Place

Review of Mirah and Spectratone International's Share This Place is up.

Definitely not everybody's cup of tea, but you will enjoy this if you like: accordians, cellos, bugs, big words, and/or Mirah

I liked this track: Love Song of the Fly.

I learned a lot while reviewing this one, like about glowworms and fireflies and the funny, super-dramatic prose of J. Henri Fabre, father of modern entomology. Or père d'entomologie, for you Frenchies. You know, I typed "etymology" at first. That would be a whole different animal.

Friday, September 07, 2007

my body is a tomb



Watch Clark and Michael if you know what's good for you.

Friday, August 31, 2007

Twinkly smiles

Nattoppet - by Detektivbyran

I heard this song and it made my day. It is magically delicious. Like living in a music box full of parties and hugs and sparkly strawberry sorbetto.

Oh sweet, sweet Sweden. Thanks for the "pling plong tunes" of Detektivbyran and your copious use of K's and accent doodads. You will like these guys if you think the Amelie soundtrack is all sorts of charming.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

jersey gardens



You know, often I get the New Yorker a day or two later than people in NY. Which sucks. That means I can't be as hip and like, in the know. Being in the know is like a prerequisite for being a New Yorker. Cuz then you can be like, oh that, I've heard of that, and then you're totally cultured. Like yogurt. I'm sorry I couldn't help it.

Whatever. The result is, though, that the past few weeks that I've gotten the magazine in the mail, I've felt so ... New Jerseyan. But that's cool. Because I am.

These Edible magazines sound interesting. I like food. I live in NJ. I want to check one out, but my county is not even listed here.

NJ is the birthplace of many cool people, like all these chefs and food peoples. Tom Colicchio is from Elizabeth. Alice Waters is from Chatham. She also sounds like maybe she hasn't been here for a long time and would not enjoy herself here. But we are a great and variegated state. By the way, I'm writing this in a Dunkin Donuts that's attached to a diner that's inside a mall that's on the turnpike next to a factory. Where can you get that in Berkeley, huh? Maybe you can. A miniature replica made out of cheese made from the milk of grass and cotton candy fed cows. I don't know.

It's no secret that there's very good Asian and Indian foodplaces around me. Because, surprise, there are a lot of immigrants. It's a cool place to be. But that foodie-type train goes right by this part of the Northeast Corridor. We're too ethnic.

I hate that term.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Grumply's still here, rumply rambly.... ...r.rr...



I heart my new mug. It's like having coffee in a traffic cone colored happy place.

This place is depressing with no words on it, even with all the brightly-colored elephants and stuff. Whatever, they are like decoys. Last week, I was super sad face and I went to Barnes and Noble and there were lots of noisy tweens there — that's that obnoxious stage before obnoxiously awkward teen stage, yes? oh hannah montana, do they hold the power of the pursestrings — yeah, instead of turning to the dark arts, I went to the book store. I bought Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises because I've been meaning to read that forevs, and a bunch of chef-y books by Michael Ruhlman who's my new best friend who doesn't know it (besides the inimitable Michael Cera) ... and while I'm all sad facey, I hear the strains of Jerome Kern's "Why Was I Born" that the store is playing. Do you know how this song goes? Yeah, whatever, it is a love schmuv song. But the part I heard was the one that goes:

Why was I born/Why am I living/What do I get/What am I giving

Like, WTF.

Wouldn't it be funny if that were somebody's initials? Like, maybe it didn't matter a few decades ago for William Talcum Frogbottom or Wendy Toblerone Froufrou to get monogrammed towels of 300% Egyptian Cotton or on fancy Crane stationery. But now, to emblazon WTF... It would be okay on a backpack though. You know which kind I'm talking about.

I guess that's what different these days. You can't just imprint your initials everywhere you want. Initial caution. BRB is not so bad I guess. LOL is pretty lame. Lamey Oliver Loser. But WTF. That makes me laugh.

Well, that went on a little longer than I intended. I guess I got carried away.



Pocky is delicious. It is a recent realization that Pocky and other such Asian products make these delicious sticks with cheese powder. Who knew? I'm going to start using "excerich" too. What a great word. If something is excellent and rich, why the hell not? Excerich! But it makes me think of headache medicine. That's the downside, Pocky marketers.

I want to make this plum crumble this weekend. Yes.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

lavender diamond - imagine our love

Got a review up of Lavender Diamond's Imagine Our Love.

I'm finding that the styles of writing at the workplace are seeping into my reviews here and am not liking that one bit. That ugly tentacley Ursula is going to steal my voice and she's going to marry Prince Charming and I'm gonna be stuck a mermaid for-ev-errrrrrr. I think this is not the first time I've made a reference to Little Mermaid. That's another no-no.

Gosh, I haven't had sushi in a long time. Yum.

This album is not for people who only like dark, broody sounds, so you vampires should stay away. Here is a video for the single that I find fabulous. I like that she's a goofball and is not so smooth on the skates. P.S. Friends, I may have a (legal) extra copy of the album, so let me know if you're interested.



Friday, July 20, 2007

It's not sad sobbing!



Sometimes it's fun to pop in a fluffy comedy and mindlessly crunch on some popcorn whose chemicals probably cause an unfortunately named condition or eat a pint of ice cream or whatever (both), I mean whatever. That was sort of the idea behind watching Because I Said So. Fluff is nice in many forms — pillows, marshmallow, clouds... All nice things! (Hm. All white things...)

This is possibly the worst movie I've ever seen.

Ok, so I haven't seen a lot of bad movies. Challenging my movie-watching buddy to name a worser movie came up with Spiderman 3, I think it was. Oh, but this was horrible. But not in the good way where it's fun to make fun of the horribleness or even go with it and embrace the horribleness. The possibility of that petered out after about 20 minutes. Even the ridiculous parts sucked. It was like the dementors in Harry Potter who take away all the joy and happiness in your life.

But considering just how much this scene about the korean spa/massage place was super stupid (the English translations for the spa ladies don't match up in any way. One says like "Chuh, crazy lady" and the subtitle is like three lines long. What's the deal??? It's not even funny.) made me think how this might have been a successful "culturally-aware" movie about a korean family of mom and daughters. Take away the sex and underwear talk (substitute with issues of dieting and skin), the romantic pairing with Reverend Camden, the internet, and all that cake-baking and singing and dancing, and you've got yourself a monstrous construction of a korean mother who knows nothing but to hover and who wants to get her daughter married to a rich man, no matter the costs. Then the plot and the characters could have some sort of cohesion.

It could be like a comedy with serious undertones. Culture clash! Who will win! Who will die! Who will she marry? Dun dun dun!!

This movie makes me angry.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

craigslist chronicles

Must be ok living with man eating kitten."

gay friend's response:
oh, punctuation is so important. but that would otherwise endear me
to the kitten. unless they meant to leave out the hyphen; I would not
be endeared by such a man.

Any of you bachelors looking for a room? Plus the chance at romance!
Room with Large Widows

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

twentysomething=cheesecake factory

What I thought was a brilliant analogy from its title turns out to be stupid fluff.

The only redemption? This comment:

"Um, I'm sorry, lady. But Twentysomething life so far has been like the Cheesecake Factory only in that it's unfairly difficult to afford, mostly tasteless, and has an atmosphere of fear and loathing. The 'large amount of menu items' has nothing to do with it..."

charlotte gainsbourg - 5:55

My review of Charlotte Gainsbourg's album, 5:55.

Bluh, I need exercise on my writing muscles. And editing too, apparently: "The delivery is at points maddening, lulling, and seductive, her quiet delivery belying the darker turns and moments of dry humor injected into the songs’ narratives."

I could have used "delivery" about five more times. I mean, what was I thinking?

Monday, April 23, 2007

nonsense



I don't know what I'm doing with my life any more than I did before; I might as well post mediocre pictures and meaty, ochre words now and again so my friends who have more going on in their lives can procrastinate. For myself, how do you procrastinate from not doing anything? Therein lies the quandary.

Right now inventory: I am getting over a chest cold. It sucks. So I'm going to sleep before midnight. I haven't done my french homework. I want to get out of the parental house. This weekend, I attended a high school musical. Basically, I must be turning back into a seventeen year old. Who is so very wise beyond her years.

Gosh, it feels nice to type random nonsense again. Like therapy for the fingers whose mind wants them to have purposes but they just want to tap tap tap their little pads free.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

chicken fckin' nuggets



Slate talks about pre-made food and megacompany Sysco, who also by the way, offers "Serve Smart Chicken": "unique 3-D technology gives you the look and texture of a solid muscle chicken breast, at a fraction of the cost. … Available in four great flavors: teriyaki, BBQ, fajita and original."

Unique 3-D technology!!! Jamie Oliver, Crusader of Healthy, Tasty lunches for school kids demonstrates this great human advancement with his Chicken Nuggets demo. Le sigh. I wish these DVDs were available States-side.





Friday, February 16, 2007

mimiles and setaphors

Ooh errr. Thanks Ric Keller, or as our buddies must call you, R-Flay, for the most inept figurative language ever (from that snarky fellow at the Post):

"Fortunately, Ric Keller (R-Fla.) was on hand to restore gravity to the debate. He spoke about lawn care as a metaphor for Iraq:

'Imagine your next-door neighbor refuses to mow his lawn and the weeds are all the way up to his waist. You decide you are going to mow his lawn for him every single week. The neighbor never says thank you, he hates you, and sometimes he takes out a gun and shoots at you. Under these circumstances, do you keep mowing his lawn forever?'"

Wow. Things are so much clearer to me now.

when life hands you lemons...



... don't make this tart. Thanks, NYT, for helping me waste precious lemonsssss. Precioussss. But I've learned my lesson. Don't make a recipe because the picture looks pretty, you superficial fool.

Of course my brain caught up with my eyes in the middle of preparing these ingredients. The suspicion started to grow as I looked at the heap of steeping lemons slices, and even with the substitution of some meyer lemons, I thought, "Really?? This is not going to taste good." I typed into the computer with my pruney, lemony fingers and confirmed my worst fears.

I went into lazy damage control. I took out some regular lemon and added more sugar and meyer lemon. I cut some of the slices into slivers because I thought there'd be a big chewiness problem. Tarts are not supposed to be full of chewy rinds. I substituted the regular sugar strewn on top with crushed sugar crystals the Mom buys for coffee.

I just should have stopped. Made a clean break. "You may be pretty but this just isn't going to work out. I'm leaving you in pieces, pieces, pieces of you." And the lemon tart components would have done a little jig.

I had a slice. Grossness confirmed. I threw the rest of it out. The crust had been fine, the sugar fun to crunch into, the insides? Bitter, pithey (those lemons, they aren't longwinded), chewy, unpleasant. I should've stuck with my original idea of lemon cake with raspberry jam.

banuffin


So I whipped up a batch of banana muffins and added the bar of Scharffen Berger gianduja I had lying around, thinking I'd go for the Nutella banana combo. Not enough choc, but it diverted me from acid lemon tears.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

tines, tines, tines

Our favorite teen girl squad tackles the delicate issue of valentimes. Love it.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

What is this "praise" you speak of?

NYmag has an article about how different kinds of praise affects kids. General blanket praise is found to be detrimental or at least not helpful in a kid's development or something like that because they opt not to try or work at things that they deem won't turn out successful.

Praise, much like potato chips and cable TV, was absent at the Fortress Nightingale (AND LOOK HOW GREAT I TURNED OUT), so this article read like Intro to Bizarro-World to me. It's tempting to bring in another blanket statement and say that praise is foreign to the old-school Korean upbringing way, but then there are those Korean parents who are sickeningly bragtastic about their stupid, not-so-special offspring.

But is this bizarro-world for anyone else? Is this white-people world? Were you praised as a child? Maybe I was, and I couldn't hear it over the clatter of my piano-practicing.

Detachment Blues



On both Saturday and Sunday, I slept around 15-16 hours. Did somebody not tell me that I am a bear? Or a sloth? Some monstrous combination of both? a bloth? I was feeling under the weather though. Like the weather is one of those old bridges and I'm a grumpy gnome. A gnome-bear-sloth. Cast me in a monster movie! And I won't watch it.

It was weird though, because I felt all floaty and detached from the world, and maybe a tad feverish. I am wondering about that strange detached feeling. If I were an artist, I'd make some freaky video installation that involved floating balloons and gnome-monsters and christmas lights and some people would shake their heads and be like, this is a bunch of b.s., give me back my money. Even though they would get to take a nice, cheery red balloon with them.

Well, it's probably because I spent more time dreaming than living real life. (OR IS IT THE OTHER WAY AROUND??) I know I go through this all the time, blahblahblahblah, where I don't want to do anything and I don't want to try, even with people I like, but then wompwompwomp, I have to try? Is this just going to go on until the end? Is it just a video that plays from time to time?

I don't even get a nice balloon. Because it will fly away. And pop. And choke some bird. And cause global warming. And Michael Pollan will write an article against eating balloons. Even the ripe berry ones.

Monday, February 05, 2007

It's your day



I've turned into drinks.


It's been almost two months. The moon's gone round and back again, because that is what it does. We sleep and then wake up and then sleep. Circle circle square square, now isn't that life everywhere?

I almost forgot how to do this thing, logging into this here site thing and puttin' down some nonfancy code and now that I'm here, I'm a little anxious to crawl back into my cave of hibernation, which is actually what I'm singing to that part of 'wave of mutilation' but I can't remember how the rest of the song goes anyway.

I'm bound to be bad at this, for I'm a little rusty. Don't get iron oxide in your eye. Why the sabbatical? Because I'm projecting from regular life onto this website because I really just want to get away and not do anything in all respects? Mayyyybe. Hot hot. Because I was away having a super-busy life and being too happy to have anything substantive to talk about? Cold cold. Though not being happy doesn't mean you have anything substantive to talk about. My brain needs oiling.

I thought about restarting with the new year. Like a computer. Reb00t, 2007. And I was gonna be like woo! New year and I'm gonna do all this stuff and gee, it'll be great, change and growth and whatnot. But my indolence and inertia had other ideas. They wanted to stay in the cave. They were like, who the hell are you kidding, kid? Don't you remember last year and before that? And then I was going to restart yesterday, because it's like woo! New age! and at least I can make a stupid entry, like on the cave's doorstep. Err, or cavestep. Cave foyer... So I'm one day late. I'm twenty-five. And I can't see anything in my pretend crystal ball. I can't even pretend to see things in my pretend crystal ball. And that sorta gets me down.

Whatever, it's probably because I stay in my cave so much, all shadowy-like. Where's the light? Oh there's the moon. And the rust in your eye. And the friendly bear Heidi who comes to my cave foyer to bite my arms off because she is hungry and grumpy and then I cannot type.