Thursday, January 31, 2008
GEORGE: (grabbing his jacket) Hey oo, I just remembered uh my parents really wanna have you guys over for dinner before you leave town. What about tonight?
(Morty and Helen look at each other)
GEORGE: Yea they're making Paella.
HELEN: (looking at Morty) Uh oh I don't think we think we can make it tonight, (turns toward George) we have plans.
JERRY: (watching the whole conversation from his desk) What plans?
HELEN: (turns to Jerry) We have plans.
JERRY: Where'd you get plans?
HELEN: (annoyed) We have plans.
GEORGE: Well um, what about tomorrow night?
HELEN: (turns back toward George) Maybe
GEORGE: Ok uh, I guess I'll tell them that.
MORTY: (to George as he is about to leave) Hey give 'em our best though.
GEORGE: (quietly) Ya.
JERRY: (walking over toward George and the door) I'll call you later.
(George tries to open the door hand slips then he exits; Jerry makes sure the door is closed)
JERRY: So what plans do you have?
JERRY: So how come you're not going over there for dinner?
HELEN: Jerry we don't care much for the Costanzas'.
MORTY: We can't stand them.
JERRY: Really? Since when?
HELEN: Since always. We've never liked them.
HELEN: Well they're so loud, they're always fighting it's uncomfortable, you never notice?
JERRY: No I notice but they're from your age group I didn't know you could detect abnormal behavior among your own kind.
MORTY: Well we do.
FRANK: They're not coming?
GEORGE: No, they had plans.
ESTELLE: How could they have plans?
GEORGE: That's what I wanna know.
FRANK: Well what difference does it make? They wouldn't lie to us, they're are dear friends.
ESTELLE: What am I supposed to do with all this Paella?
GEORGE: They said tomorrow, maybe.
ESTELLE: Maybe they don't like us.
FRANK: Why wouldn't they like us? (tastes the Paella; disgusted) Again with the pepper? What do you gotta use all the pepper for?
ESTELLE: Ah keep quiet.
FRANK: What are you trying to set my mouth on fire?
GEORGE: I don't know what the reason could be.
(George, Estelle and Frank are sitting at the table for breakfast all still in what they slept in)
ESTELLE: You think they're coming tonight?
GEORGE: I dunno they said maybe.
FRANK: Of course they're coming, they're leaving soon. If they don't come tonight they might not see us.
ESTELLE: Well they better come, I got all this Paella.
FRANK: I admire Morty and Helen going to France. We should take a trip, maybe a cruise.
GEORGE: Yes a cruise, a long cruise, just the two of you.
ESTELLE: Georgie what were you doing poking around the attic last night?
GEORGE: I-I wasn't in the attic.
ESTELLE: I heard noise.
GEORGE: Maybe it was a mouse.
FRANK: (jumping to his feet) OK that's it! We're moving!
FRANK: I will not tolerate infestation.
GEORGE: You haven't even seen one.
FRANK: Don't you understand the very thought, the very idea, I'll never be comfortable again.
ESTELLE: All right Frank that's enough.
(Frank sits back down)
GEORGE: Aaaa (looking around for Jerry) aaaa (finds Jerry) Ah ha. They had plans huh? They were busy. They were busy with their (doing a little dance to make the plans seem all that important) big plans!
JERRY: What are you talking about?
GEORGE: Mom and Pop Seinfeld
JERRY: Look I don't know.
GEORGE: All right I happen to know what they did last night, they had dinner with Kramer.
JERRY: Oh they were tired it was a last minute thing.
GEORGE: So what's the deal they don't want to have dinner with my parents?
JERRY: That's right.
GEORGE: Is there something wrong with my parents?
GEORGE: Because my parents happen to be two pretty wonderful people.
JERRY: These the people you currently live with?
JERRY: Uh huh
GEORGE: So are they coming tonight or not?
JERRY: Look I really don't know what they're plans are.
GEORGE: Ok, fine. It's going to be very interesting, very interesting if they don't show up tonight. You know my mother made all this Paella.
JERRY: What is that anyway?
GEORGE: It's a Spanish dish. It's a mélange of fish, an meat with rice. Very tasty.
JERRY: I-I'll tell 'em
(George, Estelle and Frank all standing in the kitchen)
GEORGE: They were drinking champagne in a buggy!
FRANK: First Kramer, then Elaine?
FRANK: It's a slap in the face.
ESTELLE: (with her arms out in wonder) What did we ever do to them? (George puts his arms out and imitates Estelle as she moves her arms up and down as she speaks) I want to know what we did them!
FRANK: What are they too good for us? A raincoat salesman, I could buy and sell 'em like that.
(Frank leaves the kitchen and moves into the living room)
ESTELLE: The hell with them.
GEORGE: (in the threshold between the living room and the kitchen) The thing that bothers me the most, is the lying.
ESTELLE: You know, I was thinking today. I never liked those Seinfelds anyway, he's an idiot all together. (Knocking at the door) Ah there's Kramer.
(Estelle goes to answer the door)
KRAMER: (from outside) Hello?
KRAMER: (still outside) Helowwwowwow (Estelle opens the door) Hey (kisses Estelle hello) Ha ha, Good evening (George waves)
ESTELLE: Hope you're hungry. (goes into the kitchen)
KRAMER: Ooo Paella
GEORGE: Hey uh let me take you're coat.
KRAMER: (giving George his coat) Oh ya thanks buddy.
FRANK: That shirt, where'd you get that shirt?
FRANK: That's my cabana shirt, you stole my shirt you son of a bitch! (really fast) George you let your friends go up in my attic and steal my clothes? (grabbing at the shirt) Gimme that back
[Rudy's Antique Boutique]
(Kramer and Morty enter with a bunch of raincoats)
KRAMER: Hey, Frank!
FRANK: Oh, I just want to you know I'm retracting our dinner invitation.
MORTY: Well you don't have to retract it because we never went.
FRANK: I'm retracting that it was ever offered.
MORTY: I retract your retraction.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
From: Justin.Thompson@oneamerica.com <Justin.Thompson@xxxx.com>
Date: Jan 28, 2008 8:09 AM
the worst feeling is to sit down in the bathroom and the seat still be warm. :::::::chunk's vomiting sounds::::::::
Marketing Communications Consultant, Care Solutions
This e-mail message is intended only for the use of the individual or entity to which the transmission is addressed. Any interception may be a violation of law. If you are not the intended recipient, any dissemination, distribution or copying of this e-mail is strictly prohibited. If you are not the intended recipient, please contact the sender by reply e-mail and destroy all copies of the document.
Do you know Chunk's vomiting sounds? Hoo-ahhh, Hoo-ahhh, HOO-AAAH!
So there's that,
Friday, January 25, 2008
|346: Home Alone|
A 79-year-old woman, Mary Ann, dies in Los Angeles. She's lived alone for decades. No one knows her—or her next of kin. There's a body to be buried, a house full of stuff to get rid of. It so happens there's a county bureaucracy for just this type of problem. In this show, we follow around the person charged with figuring out what to do with the remains of Mary Ann's life. This and other stories about what happens when people are left alone.
Yvonne has lived by herself for 12 years, ever since her last child moved out. She eats dinner by herself, takes care of the house on her own, and usually spends most holidays alone. She explains why she's perfectly happy this way—and has no desire to live with anyone else. (4 minutes)
Mary Ann was an elderly woman living by herself in Los Angeles County. She wasn't married, didn't have children, wasn't in touch with any of her family. When she became sick and went to the hospital, the only contact she had was Sue, the woman who delivered her prescriptions from the pharmacy. Then, Mary Ann died. There was a body to be buried, a house full of stuff to get rid of—but no family or friends to deal with it all. Luckily, there was Emily, an investigator for the Los Angeles Public Administrator's Office. It's her job to take care of the remains of lives like Mary Ann's. Eric Klinenberg reports the story. He's a sociologist, whose most recent book is, Fighting for Air: The Battle to Control America's Media. (15 minutes)
Growing up, Clevins Browne moved all over New York with his mother, in different apartments and homeless shelters. But that all changed when he was 12, and they got an apartment in a public housing complex in Brooklyn. Then, when he had just turned 15, his mom collapsed in pain while they were watching TV at home. Clevins called 911, and then hid in the closet, so he wouldn't be taken away by child services. He stayed in the apartment by himself—with no money, hardly any food—until his mother came home from the hospital: five months later. Clevins talked to This American Life producer Sarah Koenig, about how he survived. (22 minutes)
When she was in kindergarten, Jennifer, along with her brother and mother, was held hostage by an armed gunman for four days. Their father was a drug dealer and had disappeared with a bunch of cocaine that belonged to someone else. The gunman had been sent to hold the family hostage until he returned the drugs. But the gangsters didn't count on Jennifer's mother being so tough—frightening enough, in fact, to almost make the guy leave. And not only that: her mother was so composed, that Jennifer and her brother never even knew they were being held hostage. (13 1/2 minutes)
Thursday, January 24, 2008
And I'm not just talking about socially-acceptable chick flicks like Pretty Woman, Sixteen Candles and Dirty Dancing - I'm talking about any movie geared toward female adults, teens, tweens and children. Seriously? If Drew Barrymore or Julia Stiles or even Hillary Duff are in an overly-pink movie, I will watch it. If not in the theater, then in the comfort and judgment-free shelter of my studio apartment.
Bee Tee Dubs (as in BTW or By The Way), I don't even like Dirty Dancing. I saw it for the first time when I was 18, and I thought it was a piece of crap. But if it's on TV, I'll watch it. AND I don't even like Julia Stiles or Hillary Duff, but I'm drawn to their films.
Is there something wrong with me? Why do I know the plotline of the Lizzie McGuire Movie?
(Lizzie and Gordo go on a class trip to Italy, where she meets a guy who happens to be an Italian pop superstar who uses her uncanny resemblance to his old duo partner to catapult him back into fame.)
Why do I have a favorite line from Never Been Kissed?
(I got hot weiners!)
Why do I cry at the end of A Cinderella Story?
(Because Austin Ames runs off the field at the last minute of the most crucial football game of his high school career to kiss Sam Montgomery aka "Diner Girl" before she could leave. Then it starts raining. The drought is over...in more ways than one!)
Why do I always pop in the VHS cassette of Ever After every time I come home to Indiana, even though I know it's syrupy and awful?
(Because I know how it ends, and I can fall asleep to what I know.)
Why do I know the "Brr, It's Cold in Here" cheer from Bring It On?
(Because the movie is actually really funny, and I've committed bits of the entire movie to memory. "Prepare for total annihilation...")
Why do I have a crush on the guy who played Prince Edvard in The Prince and Me?
(Because he's fucking hot. HAWT. And Julia Stiles doesn't deserve to be associated with him.)
I know Save the Last Dance is a gross exploitation of MTV's idea of black culture, so why do I continue to watch it?
(Because I secretly want to be able to dance like that.)
What could I possibly gain from seeing every J. Lo movie?
(Oh, I don't know, maybe how to fight my abusive husband like she did in Enough; or maybe that I should slow down and realize love - however inconceivable - is within reach, like she did in The Wedding Planner; or maybe that if you believe in yourself and make key alliances, any woman - even a hotel housekeeper from Queens - can land a dashing politician and change the world.)
I do draw some lines. Yeah, I don't like Julia Stiles (Pumpkinface) and I think Hillary Duff fucked up her looks something fierce since her Lizzie McGuire Days:
Wholesome v. Horseface
But I will not bring myself to submit to a battery of Sandra Bullock movies. With the exception of Miss Congeniality - I mean, who hasn't seen that? I'm talking Hope Floats and The Lake House. Though I have seen Ya-Ya Sisterhood and Two Weeks Notice. Fuck.
Who am I kidding?! I can't keep myself from chick flicks. I'm trying to think of CF stars that I can't watch (Natalie Portman, Keira Knightley), but I've seen some of their movies...and enjoyed them. Except Keira. I liked Bend It Like Beckham, but I appreciated her Indian co-star more and I'll never understand why Keira is so much more famous. I haven't seen her other movies - even the Pirates Trilogy, and I don't want to. I guess.
I just need to get this off my chest. Is this abnormal for a 26-year-old woman? Maybe I'm a lot like Britney Spears in Crossroads: I'm not a girl, but not yet a woman.
Until then, I'll have a new generation of movies from Miley Cyrus and Dakota Fanning to help me figure it all out.
So there's that,
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: EcareerSite - Victoria Secret - Sales Associate <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Date: 22 Jan 2008 12:06:59 -0500
Subject: Victoria Secret is hiring a Sales Associate.
Dear LAURA ,
I found your resume on the Web recently and think you'd be a great candidate for a job we currently have available. Your credentials in administration are what make you an ideal candidate for this position. Below is an outline of the position. We'd like to invite you to apply today.
To access a more detailed description or to submit your application, please click on the link below. If your browser does not support the link, just copy and paste it into your address bar.
Once your application is processed, a member of our HR team will contact to you to schedule an interview. Please allow about 48 hours to be contacted. We're looking forward to speaking with you soon.
Sr. Recruiter, HR Division
Can you imagine? How could I sell undergarments for a company that doesn't even carry my bra size? I should give them a piece of my mind.
Instead of whipping out my largest-size-offered Lane Bryant tights, I decided to try on the pack of largest-size-offered Just My Size tights that had been hiding unopened in my closet since my last rant on pantyhose in November. To quote my "Most Uncomfortable" list:
- Holes in the Inside-Thigh of Your Pantyhose. If I step out in a skirt and hose for work, this little bitch of an annoyance always blights me by the day's end. I feel cute, slim and sexy in hose - my legs are deceptively smoothed and even-toned - I am a goddess in fresh hose. But when my thigh fat busts through the sausage casings by lunch time, I'm begging to take them off by 2 pm. The ripped nylon look might work for fetishists, but when it chokes the herniated fat bulging through, I'll have to wear Desitin all week to heal it. To leave work without them on would be like some awful walk of shame - my skirt wouldn't look right, my legs would be stubbled, and I'd have that general look of being violated between my legs. And a note to Just My Size: Make taller 4x hose. Not all fat people are short, and I'm pretty sure the reason they rip is because the crotch hits about 6 inches below my actual crevasse. Fuck you.
Way-il, this morning I decided to slip on the JMS black microfiber tights I got on sale at Walgreens, and let me tell ya - my findings were positive. They fit! Crotch hit crotch, the control-top band goes above my bellybutton, and they even bunch a little at my ankles! I have a hunch that my thigh fat will stay in-bounds through lunch time and beyond.
Emboldened by my non-scale victory, I thought I would weigh in this morning before I mow down on a scooped-out bagel (It's Bagel Day!). So I hopped on the scale in our cafeteria, and lo and behold, I lost 2 pounds! Boo yah!
I was somewhat discouraged, but then I remembered the eating I did over the weekend. I went to an Italian grocery on Saturday and had a small but calorie-laden grilled sandwich of prosciutto, mozzarella & basil. And that night I made some bean and cheese burritos to soothe my mouth, where 2 cavities were filled earlier in the day. And on Friday night I enjoyed tapas with friends.
Tapas is a type of dining in which small plates of food are shared among a table. Imagine a big appetizer sesh. It can be pretty diet-friendly in regards to portions, but I have a tendency to overnibble when I'm not thinking about it. I had bread and olive oil, olives, tomato & pancetta bruschetta, pork tenderloin with white beans, chicken with butternut squash and Israeli couscous (my weakness), and innocent grilled shrimp in mole sauce. I had small servings of each, but I'm sure what I ate cumulatively could fill an entire dinner plate. And I had a raspberry mojito. It adds up.
Now I know how to handle myself this weekend, when I'll be attending a birthday party on Friday (Happy 31st, Scott!) and a going away party on Saturday (Vanessa made a Second City cast!). Better choices, Laura.
I'll let that discouragement subside into pride, and use a small loss as an impetus to plan ahead. I've also decided to set my first realistic goal - lose 20 pounds by March 11.
So there's that,
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
So there's that,
You know you're from Dubois County, Indiana when . . .
Holland and Ireland remind you of milk and fried chicken instead of wooden clogs and leprechauns.
You can recite at least some of the Dubois County Tire radio jingle. (Big or small, we service all...Dubois County Tire de de dah, de de DAH!)
Or how 'bout Hoosier Business Machines? (In Jasper, our middle name means business - Hoosier Business Machines!)
If your last name of Uebelhor is pronounced You-Bell-Oar then you are probably from Jasper...If pronounced Ebel-Hair then you are from Ferdinand or Huntingburg.
Your wedding had or will have at least 6 kegs at the reception. (And you served a fried chicken buffet. Though you better use Catering by Meyer from here on out.)
You see more classmantes at the Strassenfest than you do at your class reunion.
If you have ever watched a sectional basketball game at memorial gym.
Been stopped by a train in Huntingburg.
You don't know where the intersection of IN-64 and IN-162 is located but know exactly where the Bretzville Junction is. (About a mile up the road from my house!)
If you can properly pronounce Luebbehusen, Mehringer, Goepfrich, Knies, Mathies, Thewes, etc.
The term "Kraut" isn't necessarily offensive. (Especially when used as "Super Kraut")
TP-ing is an annual October right of passage.
You consider the Schnitzelbank a fancy restaurant.
You get pulled over on a Friday or Saturday night because your license plate light is out, but never any other night of the week.
You are on a first name basis with every bartender in your hometown or county for some of us. (Or the bartender knows your voice because your mom makes you call all the time looking for your dad.)
When you read The Herald you personally know at least one person in the record section every day. (That's where the arrests and accidents are listed.)
So there's that,
Monday, January 21, 2008
- "MADE FROM ROASTED PEANUTS AND SUGAR. CONTAINS 2 PERCENT OR LESS OF: MOLASSES, PARTIALLY HYDROGENATED VEGETABLE OIL (SOYBEAN), FULLY HYDROGENATED VEGETABLE OILS (RAPESEED AND SOYBEAN), MONO- AND DIGLYCERIDES AND SALT."
Friday, January 18, 2008
So here's a cut-and-pasted script of a monologue/scene from last year's FatCo show, Fat in Flight. It's based on an essay I wrote, and I almost didn't submit the idea to the group. Turned out to be the big tearjerker in our Chicago and Washington DC shows.
See our TimeOut Chicago Critic's Pick Review: http://www.timeout.com/chicago/articles/mind-body/18144/critics-pick
Some of it was edited to make it more funny or "a little less heavy," so it's not the full story. I'll post that another time.
One of my favorite movies growing up was Grease, and I always saw myself as the misunderstood goody-goody outcast Sandy. Except I’m not blonde. And I’m not a cheerleader. And I wouldn’t let these sausage legs be caught dead in a skirt. There was always one moment that got to me: Her complete makeover at the top of "You're the One That I Want."
She walks up to Danny and says, "Tell me about it...stud." His eyes roll up her body, and I was always perplexed by the spandex stretched perfectly across her flat stomach. I’d never seen anything like it. I had no idea that was what women's bodies were supposed to be like. It was like my first vision of a real naked woman.
I was a fat girl. Every summer, about 100 good students at my school got hand-selected to go on an educational trip. For five days I would get to travel to Atlanta, Georgia, where I would be free of my living room and my television, and I would actually get to hang out with the kids from town.
I wanted Sandy’s body, but since I didn’t have the time to trim down before the big trip, I had to improvise using the only tool I knew: Duct Tape.
(Girls enter and set up bus scene. Laura takes duct tape and begins to wrap it around her stomach. As she does so:)
There are problems. My fat spills out at the top and bulges from the bottom. You see: (she indicates her body) that’s not a natural line. Plus, the more I move, the more it peels away from the poles. Try taking a 15 hour bus ride in this.
(Laura sidles into her seat next to WEIRD FAT GIRL SUE.)
WFG SUE: What kind of snack did you pack?
LAURA: (unenthusiastically) My dad took me to the gas station and got me this Landcaster Sub and some Gatorade.
WFG SUE: That’s all you got? It’s a long drive.
LAURA: I can get stuff along the way if I want.
WFG SUE: It costs more. You should have come prepared. I got cookies and cheese sticks and all kinds of stuff but my mom won’t let me share them. (Awkward Pause) Will you be my friend on this trip?
(To audience again) Normally I try to steer clear of my own in situations like this: One fat girl is bad enough, but I don’t want people to think I’m on some kind of team. But what could I do? I was in the window seat.
WFG SUE: Cool. Maybe I’ll let you have some of my Snackwells, but don’t tell anyone.
LAURA: (Noticing Vicki, who’s super gorgeous and popular.) Hey Vicki, what are you doing?
VICKI: Putting my contacts in.
LAURA: Oh wow. That’s a pretty Caboodle.
(Vicki ignores her and Jon enters. He stands confidently in the center aisle.)
(To audience) That’s Jon Weyer. He’s really tall and skinny and tan and really good at math, but not in that nerdy way. It just comes to him. I’ve loved him since 6th grade when he asked me to be his partner for an in class writing project. He laughed at my jokes while I pretended to know about baseball. I hoped he would notice my new look
LAURA/VICKI: Hey Jon.
(Jon looks at Laura, then at Vicki and sits next to Vicki. The following Tableaux occur to the music “We’re on the Road to Nowhere”)
Tableau 1: Laura deals with Tape, WFG Sue eats, Jon and Vicki canoodle.
Tableau 2: Laura eats with WFGS as she watches Jon with his head in Vicki’s lap.
Tableau 3: WFGS shoves her tongue through bologna at Laura, whose head is in her hands, while Jon and Vicki go at it.
After sitting on the bus and making a few pit stops, the duct tape hurts, bad. It’s hot out, and I’m sweaty. The tape rolls away from my skin and gives off this wretched piney-sweaty smell. I have to sneak duct tape and scissors into the restroom so I can reapply. This is not a discreet procedure.
(Three chairs set up as bathroom stalls, Laura in the middle. She tries to quietly peel duct tape from the roll, but it takes too long, so she unwraps it in great lengths, making that sound. The girls in the nearest stalls comment on the sounds and ask for a courtesy flush, etc. When all is done, she starts to undo a maxi pad.)
VICKI: Laura’s on the rag!
WFG SUE: No that’s a Twinkie…did you steal my Twinkie, bitch?
(To audience) We finally got to the hotel.
(Jon enters with Vicki on his arm.)
JON: We’re going swimming. Wanna come?
LAURA: Um, no thanks.
(To Audience) Who am I kidding? Jon Weyer doesn’t like me like that, and he never will. I can’t swim with it in the hotel pool, and I wouldn’t want to. My waist may look slim, but my legs are hideously dimpled and scarred; I can’t cover those in duct tape. My breasts are big and unshapely, and my hips are still wide enough to fill canyons.
But I still kept doing this until….
MOM: I mean it, I will hide every bit of duct tape in this house! Don’t you ever do this to yourself again! Now let’s go get some Phen/Fen.
(Laura starts to peel off tape through the rest.)
(To audience) I don’t know what was worse: balancing a schedule of five pills daily while hiding it from my normal friends or unpeeling a cast of tape from my body in the middle of the day, when the welts have started to bleed and I am forced to acknowledge the flaws of my body. After all this, I think I’ll stand with my hands crossed over my waist for the rest of my life.
So there's that,
Thursday, January 17, 2008
- Have all your purchases gift-wrapped.
I left my favorite scarf at a bar this weekend (black & grey argyle- wah), just in time for the big cold snap this week. So last night I begrudgingly shopped for a new scarf after work on Michigan Ave, so I could be prepared for the wind chills in the negative double digits.
If I haven't said it before, I hate shopping on Mich Ave. I only do it if I really need something and I can't wait for the weekend to do extensive price comparing. Plus, it's close to my office.
Anyway, after being unimpressed with the nearest store's (Orvis) "sale" ($50 after 30% markdown? B'guh?), I went across the street to Eddie Bauer where they had a fine array of scarves on sale. Because I don't like unexpected spending when it comes to stuff I really need (a good hat, a new cell phone after dropping mine in the tub, toilet paper), I have to put a silver lining on it.
So when I'm in some wannabe chi chi store like this, I make them go the extra mile and gift-wrap my purchases for free. When I order stuff online, I have it gift-wrapped too. That way, the universe is working a little more in my favor, and I don't feel so bad about splurging. I even have them include a gift receipt so I don't look conspicuous. Ha!
The result: This morning I carefully untied a green satin bow from a big, square red box and ruffled through delicate tissue paper to uncover my new blue down scarf and sleek black gloves. It was like Christmas in...about 3 weeks after Christmas.
- Add "Sent from my iPhone" to the bottom of your emails.
Wanna look like the coolest person of 2007? Put this little sentence at the end of everything you send, and you'll have all the glory without wasting all the money.
And you won't look like one of those assholes who plays with his little status symbol in public.
- If I ever get a dog, I'm going to name it Khan.
I fully believe dogs are vehicles for ironic names that show off their owners' creativity. I want to use this little Star Trek II reference so I can yell like James T. Kirk when I'm looking for him...or when he's done his business at bad times in bad places. "KHAAAAAAAAAAAN!
So there's that,
Sent from my iPhone
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
But that's the kind of curious thinking that has led me down dangerous paths in the past.
- "It's okay if I have a just a piece of coconut cake from Whole Foods. Once a week, at most."
- "A seafood and crab sub won't be too bad for me, if I just do it once...a week."
- "I don't eat Snickers that often; it will be a treat to have a whole bar. And the peanuts have protein and 'good' fat."
- "If I happen to eat this whole box of (frozen) Fruit Roll-Ups/Strawberry Gushers, I'd only be eating 500-600 calories. I can skimp the rest of the day."
- "An order of Shrimp Pad Thai (http://www.aromachicago.com/) once a week can't hurt, especially if I pair it with a cucumber salad."
- "This entire supreme Tombstone pizza won't kill me if it's all I eat today. I'm hungover; I need the salt and protein. I'll eat a salad later on to get my veggies."
It's a slippery slope, as you can see. I have had all these feelings in the span of one week before, several times over. Imagine two slices of coconut cake, or a whole 5" cake if they don't have it in slices (how do you think I spent my December 30?); imagine 3 days of seafood and crabbing, even though I promise myself to get turkey every time; imagine a Snickers or other peanutty candy every other day; imagine both a box of Fruit Roll-Ups and a box of Gushers in one night, over several trips to the freezer for "just one more." The pizza, on the other hand, I can only do that for one day a week, tops. Not a big fan of pizza, unless I make it myself or it's a frozen one when I'm hungover.
Anyway, back to the topic at hand. I decided that maybe I should take steps to make my celebrated Bagel Day have less of a caloric impact on my body, while keeping mindful of the slippery slope I'm used to. I did after all decide to "make better choices" this year, so why not apply that to the bagel?
By the by, contrary to how I justified my various trips to Taco Bell and White Castle after Wednesday night karaoke at the Jeff Street Lounge in college, your body doesn't need salt, grease and fried stuff after a night of drinking; it needs water. I heard that the effects of a hangover - headache, nausea, dry mouth - are all because you're dehydrated; drink Gatorade and lots of water to restore function. Tip for ya - one that I learned too late.
As for the type of bagel, I won't give up the master blueberry. I've loved them forever. I know it's not a true "bagel man's bagel," but it's a happy holdover from my youth, reminding me of the visits to Chicago and Bill and Paula's house, when Bill would get fresh bagels every morning while walking his dog, Happy. My young palate was never interested in the onions and the sesames, but did I love those blueberries. They were like fruity muffins in a healthier form. Pair that with strawberry or pineapple cream cheese, and it was an exotic treat.
Since then, thanks to my old coffeehouse job at Benjamin's in Franklin and close working proximity to Bronx Bagel in Jasper, I fell in love with the savory everything bagel with homemade veggie cream cheese. Right now, Eppy's Deli next door to my office has the best Everything/Veggie combo of all time, but I can't think of that now because I'm talking blueberries. And I don't want to start craving Eppy's, even though I've already begun.
So I'm sticking with blueberry at the office because they don't even have everythings, and I feel like an occasional sweet treat will do me right. And I won't budge on strawberry cream cheese. How am I going to make this bagel "a better choice?" And when am I going to finish this entry?
A-ha! I decided on a course of food trickery. After slicing the bagel in half, I took a spoon and scooped out much of the extra dough, leaving hollow wells in my bagel halves. I toasted them til crispy and smeared them with 2 Tbsp of whipped cream cheese. The best part is I thought I would overdo it on cheese because there was more space to fill, but I actually used less than normal; since the cheese had to cover more surface area, it seemed like I was using more. On a regular bagel, I would be tempted to pile on the cheese to mimic the ads on Philadelphia cream cheese commercials. It's tough to explain my long-time imitations of commercials (maybe that's another blog), but it makes sense to me.
Think of the empty calories I saved!
So there's that,
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
I want them in Caribbean Blue:
But then I got a lightbulb: why don't I reward my progress in making good choices by buying up all my dream cookware one piece at a time?