Greasy pizza or insane abs?

Does anyone else think Dave Andelman, CEO of The Phantom Gourmet, looks EXACTLY like The Situation?

Moving Van on the Second Date

I was chatting with an old friend recently about dating co-workers. He himself is currently in what could be described as a fling with a lady co-worker. Now I'm usually one to go overboard. With everything. Anything new in my life and I will dedicate 100% of my attention to it. My friends and family have learned this the hard way, as I've dropped off the face of the Earth to spend every waking moment with a new girlfriend or my MacBook or rock climbing. (I've also recently decided I'm going to quit my job and become a Spanish tomato farmer, but that's another obsessive story.)

Back to my fling-ing friend. He said it was going well and at this point, they both are really enjoying all the time they spend together. I was dumbfounded. How do people work together every day, and in this case on the same team, and not go completely overboard? I didn't understand how he wasn't spending every moment with her at work when he could have been. After all, according to him she's gorgeous, fun, and generally awesome. I guess it's at this point that I should clarify and say that when I do that 100% attention thing, it always backfires; after a certain amount of time (1 week, a month, etc.) I see the error in my ways and purge my newfound obsession. So I asked if he wasn't worried about maybe it being too much too soon and he told me that they have a good balance and don't overdo it. Clearly "don't overdo it" isn't in my vocabulary.

But why is this? Why are some girls out-of-their-mind crazy like this? And why, if I know I'm one of said girls, can't I stop myself from doing it? There's definitely a part of me that looks down and thinks, "Wow. You are insane. If I weren't a part of your conscious, I would totally dump you right now." Guys are different. I know no guys who obsess over a new girl and plan out the next month's evenings with them in mind. Usually it's worse in lesbian relationships; another thing I don't really understand. Are the women who date men less obsessive because they know guys won't put up with crazy and would dump them? Is women's insanity exacerbated by proximity to other women?

I guess I'll just have to take the next 2 weeks to perpetually think about this...

1 Year Closer to Death

Yesterday I turned 29. 29. It's the age that everyone says they are until they suck it up and finally admit that fine, okay, they're really 57. But I don't see what the big deal is about this milestone. Sure it's the last year I'll be able to say I'm in my 20s, but I'm really okay with that. Being a person who fears death and the end of anything from the fall season to summer camp, I started wondering why I'm not freaking out about turning 29. After all, I'm probably over a third of the way through my life.

Maybe I'm not afraid of turning 29 because I still look like I'm 17. I don't have wrinkles. I don't have that mature look that screams "I am not a girl anymore, I'm a woman!" I don't use a pocketbook or wear high heels or makeup. I opt for jeans and t-shirts and put my hair in a ponytail most every day. So how can I fear getting old when I know I won't look it for awhile? Don't get me wrong; I am not asking for your sympathy because I look young. But let's just say that it's tough for me to make "Oh my god I'm going to turn 30 soon!" complaints when I still shop at Gap Kids.

I guess if I were truly a 29 year old woman, right now I'd be curling up on my sofa drinking a giant glass of red wine, watching Grey's Anatomy, planning a night out with my girls at The Bell In Hand, and perusing the pages of Us magazine. Ugh. Thank god I'm just a 29 year old girl instead.

Par Lay Voo Fron Sace?

I am probably the worst packer ever. I can’t take anything less than 2 suitcases for a weekend getaway. Also? I hate the phrase “weekend getaway.” But back to my point. I am leaving for my European vacation, dahlings, this Friday. And so tonight I will be packing everything I need for my journey.

Itinerary – 5 days in Cinque Terre Italy, 10 days hiking the Alps in Italy, France, and Switzerland, 2 days exploring Geneva

Exciting, but still pretty simple, right? I’m one person. One very small person. There is no way I need more than like, 20 pounds worth of travel items. But I guarantee when I start to lay out my belongings, I will have to remind myself that 8 CitySports t-shirts are overkill, while I think I’m gonna need my running sneakers there’s just no way it’s happening, and that no, I don’t need to bring all those Clifbars – I’ll just buy baguettes and cheese when I’m there.

I’m deathly afraid of forgetting something crucial, though. Let’s clarify for a moment. I’m not deathly afraid; there’s a 0% chance I will die at the thought of forgetting my toothbrush. But I’m still nervous about it. I am sure that somewhere over the Atlantic I will stop watching The Bucket List on the video screen in front of me and realize my pajamas are sitting on my desk.

I was thinking that maybe I would take some fancy pants clothes with me to wear out at night when I’m in Italy. Because isn’t that what people do in Italy? They put on their Axe body spray or Chanel No. 18 and hit the town, right? The last time I went out at night in Italy, Susan and I drank flutes of limoncello and then promptly decided we would never ever be drinking limoncello again, in flutes or not. Long story short, I’m not bringing fancy pants clothes.

Just taking a general poll here, but how many Q-tips is too many to bring on a 2 week vacation? And underpants? How many is too few? Eh, as long as I bring my passport and Travel Scrabble I should be okay.

Biker Chick

Pros of riding a motorcycle 90 miles from Pembroke to Provincetown:
Feeling like you’re part of the somewhat-secret society of bikers who point to 7 o’clock with two fingers and wave when they pass you
Up close views of art galleries, antique stores, and “women”
The wind in your hair
Feeling so much cooler than those kids stuck in a minivan

Cons of riding a motorcycle 90 miles from Pembroke to Provincetown:
Helmet hair
Walking funny the next day
Speedbumps and potholes
Taking a bug to the face

Don't be mislead. I killed no cats.

This is a picture of a smore made with vegan marshmallows. While it looks bubbly and plastic and horrid, it actually kinda tasted good. After 10 minutes of hemming and hawing over whether to eat one, I proceeded to "cook" and eat no less than 5 of them. Self-control doesn't factor in when chocolate, graham crackers and marshmallows (albeit vegan) are involved.

This smore, and pots of quinoa, were made this weekend while camping in the Catskills. In Woodland Valley, to be exact. And if we're going for details here, I suppose I'll confess that the following happened:

1) In three days, I took one shower (sans soap and shampoo).

2) I ran 16 miles, saw about 4 people while doing so, and realized that it would suck to train for a marathon while living in the boonies.

3) I gathered firewood, but managed to pick all the wet, slug-covered pieces.

4) Hiking happened, but was overshadowed by my excitement for Nutz Over Chocolate Luna Bars.

5) The gay male couple in the next campsite purchased a potted flower plant for their picnic table. Now THAT is gay.

6) I lost at Scrabble but played some great 4th grade words like 'dangly,' 'mist,' and 'bee.'

7) In order to light a fire, I burned the one section of the NYTtimes I was told absolutely, under no circumstance, to use.

8) No bears were actually seen, but it was assumed that any sound occurring after dark was made by one.

I suppose that as much as I enjoy the outdoors, I'm not really made for them. Though I DO have the eating part down to an art.

Herman's Hermits Crabs (what I would name a hermit crab pet store if I opened one)

I'm going camping in the Catskills this weekend. It will be my first time to the region, my second-ish time camping, and the zillionth time I try to keep myself from falling asleep on a long car ride. I'm not entirely sure what my problem is when I drive more than 10 miles, but my eyelids just decide that they'd rather not remain in the open position. Sidenote - if you're thinking about getting that Starbucks energy coffee drink, don't. Just don't.

I spent my morning packing and I think I've nailed the essentials - bathing suit, deck of cards, 2 Nalgenes, Q-tips, headlamp, and Twizzlers. I will be prepared for ANYTHING. My adventure includes a stop at Tinker Tubes where I will rent a tube, maneuver my bony ass into it, and then float on it down a river. That is, until I make the slightest movement, topple over, and spend a quarter of a mile trying to hoist myself back up. Yesssssssss!

So, how's about that Prop 8 ruling, you guys? Nice going, California. I will forgive you for trying to steal Massachusetts's thunder because it's a noble cause. Just don't make a habit of it.

Last night I fell alseep to YouTube videos of Keane's "Somewhere Only We Know." I'm not sure why British people don't sound British when they sing; I'm on year 17 of trying to figure this out. Doesn't change the fact that this is my new favorite song, though.

I thought I found an extra bone in my elbow today, but it turns out it was there all along

You have to really like hard boiled eggs to be confident enough to eat them at work. I thought it was safe to eat mine at 7:08pm, but sure enough, I soon heard “Great. Now it smells like eggs in here.” Sorry everybody. They’re a tasty, healthy snack…what do you want from me?

Marathon training is in full swing again. Only this time around, instead of listening to Car Talk on my bazillion mile runs, it’s The Nerdist, Doug Loves Movies, Fresh Air, and Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me. I’ve been told that only dorks listen to NPR while running, so I guess I’m a full fledged dork. I suppose it’s a trade off since I now know all about Daniel Schorr, Mark Ruffalo, and President Obama’s daily routine. Oh, and if you’re keeping track, Harvey has now eaten no less than 4 pairs of headphones. Sonofabitch.

I will soon be riding down to Provincetown on a motorcycle (as a passenger). I am both nervous and excited about this. Was it in an episode of Rescue Me that they referred to it as a “donorcycle?” That certainly isn’t helping matters. And then when I get there, I’ll have to play it cool like I ride all the time and sheeyit, ain’t no thang to be ridin’ on my bike, yo. (If I live to be 120, I don’t think there will ever be a time that I utter that sentence.) On the bright side, I finally get to wear my leather chaps in an appropriate setting.

of the Day

Office Mundanity (it's a word now) of the Day: Trying to figure out how many buttons I need to press on my phone to answer a call with my headset. "Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?" was overheard around my cubicle.

Dangerous Adventure of the Day: JPM carpool van trip to South Boston sans seat belt. Both ways!

Ballsy Wardrobe Choice of the Day: Red and black flannel lumberjack shirt. The fact that Amanda Bynes designed it and I purchased it for $6 at Building 19 1/3 helps.

Happy Surprise of the Day: Finding leftover Indian food is just as good the next day.

Music of the Day: Barenaked Ladies and one Lady Gaga song ("Honest Eyes")

Somewhat Embarrassing Moment of the Day: Being called out for picking a wedgie at work.

Don't even get me started on burping in public

I don't understand mouth-breathers. First of all, I don't know if it's even hyphenated. Mouth breathers. Mouth-breathers. Hmm. I suppose it doesn't matter because if you're a mouth breather, you're probably so low on the food chain that you don’t know either.

There are only a handful of situations where breathing through your wide-open mouth is acceptable. I will detail them for you:
- You have a sinus infection and cannot breathe through your nose because it is filled with snot.
- Someone has just told you that they've been sleeping with somebody else for the past 5 years and can you please sign these divorce papers.
- You are running a sub 6:00 mile.
- You have a date in 5 minutes and you need to check with your best friend if you're good to go or if you need to gargle with Listerine first.

And that's pretty much it. If you think there's another viable option but it's not on the above list, it’s not a viable option. Close your mouth.

I learned the word atelier yesterday

Gretchen and I went on a non-date last night to Teranga, a Senegalese restaurant in the South End. Or at least I think it was the South End. Basically, you get off at Mass Ave and Newbury and keep walking for 15 minutes. Yeah. South End.

Anyway, it was delicious. I might have been more smitten with the plates than the actual food, and that's saying something since the food was pretty incredible. It's hard to believe (I know!!) but I've never had plantains before. Last night I was initiated into the club. They weren't overly sweet and tasted more like giant sweet potato fries than starchy bananas.

It's fun to go to a West African restaurant with someone who has lived in West Africa for a number of years. Because when they order they sound all knowledgeable and cultured. And then YOU go to order and you butcher their words with your thick, naive American accent. So instead of asking for the name of the dessert dish, you say "I don't know how to pronounce this, so I'm just gonna say 'I'll have the donuts.'" Classy, right?

It is day 4 with no cable. I haven't even turned my tv on once. (Though I did watch the latest amazing episode (with song!) of How I Met Your Mother online.) I should have done this about 2 years ago.

Beards! Beards!

I've been cooking a lot lately. It all started with my "New Year's Resolution" to eat healthier/eat one veggie a day. You have no idea how much kale, spinach, collard greens, green beans, and zucchini I've eaten in the past three weeks. And zucchini isn't even in season! I guess that's not all that exciting and doesn't necessitate an exclamation point, but I did it anyway. Point is, I'm eating vegetables. And my gastrointestinal system (and my co-workers) are paying dearly for it.

I'm hooked on Veronica Mars. I think I once promised myself I would never religiously watch a tv show from the WB, but I've gone and blasphemized. (It's a word.) Hoo boy does it feel good. Kristen Bell? Why was I not obsessed with her earlier?

As embarrassing as it is to admit, I really like Ke$ha's songs. That's right. I said it.

Man versus Woman

This is long overdue.  I was assigned this review about a month ago, did the grunt work right away, and then procrastinated due to reading, a cruise, and the Red Sox.  In any case, I'm doing it now and that's what counts.

The following scenario is true 99% of the time:  Ask a man if he likes the movie The Big Lebowski and he will emphatically say yes.  Ask a woman if she likes it and she will emphatically say no.

I first saw this movie maybe 6 months after it came out and I remember not liking it, in true female fashion. But I kept wondering why there's such a gender chasm in its followers and I decided to watch it again to see if I'm still on the girl side of things.  Theresa gave me the assignment of reporting back on my findings.  Here they are.

I am a man.  Wait, let me rephrase.  I'm a woman who sometimes dresses up like a man.  I can confidently say that I liked the movie.  I can also confidently say that I did not love it.  Obviously I liked the colorfulness (it's a word) of the characters. But then, the Coen brothers are known for their original, eccentric characters, so there's no surprise there.  I think I would have been even more bored than I already was with the plot if the bits of humor mixed in and the characters' nuances didn't add to the scenes.

Things that were good:  any scene with John Turturo, the concept of the white russians, the dream sequence (mainly due to the costumes and the music), the soundtrack, John Goodman (!), Philip Seymour Hoffman

Things that were bad:  Tara Reid (this can be said for any movie she's in), not using Steve Buscemi to his potential, the scenes with the "cowboy" talking to the camera at the bowling alley bar, the plotline around Julianne Moore

I guess this movie is a typical Coen brothers movie which means I should have known that I would think it's good artistically but not good entertainingalingly (not a word).  In other words, I can see why people would like it.  But I still can't see why it's split between men and women.  Is it the bowling?  The swearing?  Tara Reid?  And are those the same reasons why women don't like it?

I think I'll stick with watching movies and not reviewing them.  I'm better at the former....

Just saw a dude on a bike wearing ski goggles. It's 60 degrees outside.

Vegan. Passover. Two words that I'm not sure should go together. Not because I don't approve of the vegan lifestyle or the Jews' exodus from Egypt. On the contrary - I'm all for escaping the wrath of evil dictators (lookin' at you, Pharaoh). But when you live your life without meat, cheese, eggs, fish, cheese, dairy, and cheese, also eliminating corn, bread, pasta, and beans seems a little, shall we say, impossible.

Erev Passover I went to my first vegan seder. It was a community seder, so most of us were strangers to each other. While everyone was a character in their own right, there was only one person who bordered on being judged as Really Weird (she brought more than 10 stuffed animals with her and didn't take any of her three shoulder bags off for the duration of the night.) It was a potluck style seder and I brought an unintentionally dense sweet potato/apple kugel and charoset. I expected to see a lot of dishes that were basically a vegetable sauteed in olive oil, but surprisingly most people brought kugel in one form or another. Since it was a lot of carbs, I didn't need to stop and get a steak on the way home like I thought I would.

We talked a lot about the four children and alternate meanings behind their personalities (the simple child, the wise child, the wicked child, and the child who does not know how to ask). While we were eating, our conversation turned to the vegan/vegetarian lifestyle (which, I guess, was to be expected) and I was delighted to find I was not the only carnivore there. I give those guys credit, though (vegans, not carnivores). They have principles, they stick to them (usually), and they endure the wrath of all the meat-eaters out there who not only don't approve of their lifestyle, but are obnoxiously preachy and try to convert them to the flesh-eating side.

ANYway, the seder was fun, the food was tasty, my Mom is happy I went, Jews are no longer building pyramids, I didn't have to sing the four questions, we got to wear masks with the 10 plagues on them (the lice and boils ones were the best), and I will be constipated due to TMMI (Too Much Matzah Intake) for the rest of the week. Next year in Yerushalayim!

Unnecessary tears

I'm sitting on the stationary bike at the gym listening to some yuppy podcast and watching the (soundless) morning news on one of the TVs. A Hallmark card commercial comes on with an extended family sitting around the dinner table. It is the matriarch's birthday and she is opening a card from, seemingly, one of her relatives. You see her read the outside of the card and open it up to reveal the words "Happy Birthday Love, So-and-So." (It didn't actually say So-and-So, but I don't remember the name.) But that's it. That's all it says inside. And yet, she continues to stare at the inside of the card. Close up on her face to reveal that she's on the verge of tears after receiving such an emotional, heartfelt card. And there I am completely bewildered by this. She has spent 6 seconds reading 4 words, is STILL staring at the nearly blank card, and is close to weeping. What the fuck? Is this woman mentally retarded? I think to myself that Hallmark is way overdoing it and no one cares this much about a friggin' birthday card when the words "Hallmark Recordable Greeting Cards" comes on the screen. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, okay. I get it now.

Pardon the Interruption

I went to the gym around 5:30 tonight instead of at 6:00 this morning.  I don't normally like working out in the afternoon because I feel heavier and it just feels strange to exercise after my day is almost done.  Anyway, so I'm there moving my legs back and forth quickly on the elliptical, my feet experiencing this weird burning sensation that I'm not sure a) how it starts or b) how to get rid of it, when I look up at the 7 treadmills in front of me.  And on each treadmill is a 20-something "dude."  And on each tv screen in front of each of the 20-something "dudes" is ESPN.  I felt like I was in some strange robotic, futuristic movie.  Then I thought about the clientele who frequent the gym at 6am.  And it's mostly the female version of these robots.  Granted, TMZ and The Hills aren't on that early in the morning, so they're stuck watching Doug Meehan give helicopter traffic reports, but still.  Same thing.  

Don't get me wrong.  I'm glad that all these people are working out.  I would much rather be surrounded by pretty, skinny people than fatty fat fat fats.  But there's still no denying that I feel like I'm in a machine when I go to that gym.  

I especially thought the "dude" who checked out every girl who walked by or went to the paper towel dispenser was particularly lame.  He wasn't even trying to hide it.  He DID have nice biceps, though.  Dammit, Lisa!

A cocaine-dealing brother-in-law

Saturday night Nana, Aunt Freya, and I were supposed to eat at the Hofbrahaus in celebration of Nana's 97th birthday (that's right...97...a "holy moly" is warranted here).  But after taking a look at the menu and seeing only meat, meat, and more meat (all in German, I might add), Nana declared she'd rather eat at Pizzeria Uno.  I secretly seconded her opinion.  Unfortunately, at 5:45 pm on a Saturday night, Pizzeria Uno had a 25 minute wait, so we went to the next best place - Bertucci's.

I can't tell you the last time I ate at Bertucci's.  I CAN tell you the last time I ordered Bertucci's rolls to go, took them across the street to a bar, and then proceeded to throw up my 3 Cape Codders into the bag of rolls, ruining the food for everyone and cementing the "Lisa and the Bertucci rolls" story for the rest of my life.  I digress.  We walk into Bertucci's and I am immediately hit with a wall of sound.  Every table has a mother and father and at least two children sitting at it.  All of whom are less than 5 years old, playing with some kind of toy, and screaming.  Normally when I'm out in Longmeadow, Nana takes me to a place called The Grapevine for dinner.  And at 6:00 pm, the place is filled to the rafters with senior citizens, not children.  So this was a new experience for me.  A new and very loud experience.  

Freya orders the steak.  Nana and I order the salmon with the intention of splitting it.  The rolls come.  I eat two.  WITHOUT throwing up.  Nana mentions that she thinks my brother-in-law is dealing cocaine in Mexico.  Freya mentions that she thinks I'm losing my mind.  I mention that I could eat the olive oil with garlic and parmesan cheese perpetually until I die.  

Here's what fathoms me about Bertucci's, though.  My salmon had absolutely no bones in it.  Freya's steak had absolutely no fat on it.  The green beans and asparagus were not only cooked to perfection, but were the most desireable shade of green, and the mashed potatoes were like heaven.  How do they do this?  How are they mass producing salmon, cows, and green beans so that the meals are picture perfect every time?  I was too busy being freaked out by this to enjoy the taste of it all.  Though I quickly got over being freaked out and enjoyed 3/4 of the salmon and a quarter of Freya's steak.  

Restaurants like Bertucci's and Olive Garden and Applebees are mindboggling.  I rarely eat at those places, feel disgustingly full and gross when I do, and typically make fun of the people who frequent there.  But last night, as I created the perfect bite of meat, green beans, and potatoes, I ignored that nagging voice in my head that kept repeating, "You are eating the food of the people who shop at IKEA, watch Desperate Housewives, throw Pampered Chef parties, and laugh at Adam Sandler movies."

Important amendment

This just in....

Theresa has alerted me to the fact that there is no way she looked up at me while eating her pizza. "I inhaled that," is how she put it.

That is all. Thank you.

Reply to all

Tonight Jon and I talked a lot about work stuff.  And it got me thinking.  What do you think it would be like to be a CEO of a company or someone who is pretty high up in the org chart?  Other than having people quiver when they get in the elevator with you, your life has got to be pretty cool.  Specifically related to emails.  I mean, I freak out and start sweating when I send emails to people two levels above me, let alone a CEO or managing director.  How cool would it be if you knew that every email and spreadsheet you receive has been reviewed a million times for typos, alignment issues, and proper page numbers?  

How many cute kitten picture forwards do you think JD (CEO) gets every day?  Do you think he's tallied 577 years of bad luck for not passing on an email about a friend dying of cancer?  And does he get the same spam emails trying to sell him electronic products that I do every day?  

How many people have meant to email Helen an email about that hot guy in the tax department but instead have sent it to H (the second in command) instead?  Did they send an apology email?  Did they get fired?

All I'm saying is that my life would be a lot more efficient if every email and spreadsheet I was sent received the CEO treatment.  No longer would I be preoccupied with finding the "they're their there" typos or worrying that when I print I'll get 18 pages instead of 1 because the page setup isn't set to "fit to 1" and in landscape mode.  

Don't say Haman.

Is it a full moon?  It's got to be.  Because people are friggin' crazy today.  Last week at work I obsessively flipped between People.com and Lifehacker.com to pass away the time.  I was just bored to tears.  And all of a sudden it's like I have no time to breathe.  People in Edinburgh are yelling at me in emails, people in Luxembourg are laughing so hard on conference calls that they are snorting, and people in Boston are so stressed they're reclining in their chairs and splaying their limbs everywhere.  It's all very distracting.

Chris Wyman is convinced that when Patrick Swayze dies, they will play a marathon of his movies.  ALL his movies....not just the one good one.  Which means that I will have to suffer through Point Break.  Again.  I, on the other hand, am pretty sure that TNT will only play Dirty Dancing.  There's no denying it; it was a strange conversation to have.

Yesterday I went over to Theresa's house around 2:30 and left around 10:30.  It's weird, but I think we paid the most attention to each other in the car to and from her house.  When we went grocery shopping, we were concerned with why Stop & Shop doesn't carry Peter Pan peanut butter and whether or not to buy fat free mozzarella cheese or 2%.  Then, when we got to her apartment, I was concerned with uploading my video to youtube (not successful) and she was preoccupied with taking a shower.  And then we watched some tv while both playing on our own computers.  So, not really paying attention to the tv or each other then either.  We kinda glanced up as we ate our pizza, but not really.  It's amazing how 8 hours can feel like only 2 when you're not paying attention to anything.  This is why I feel like my weekend hasn't started yet.  I want a do-over.

Now it's 8:08.  I should be out listening to the Megillah and twirling my noisemaker while eating hamantashen.  But I'm pretty sure sitting here drinking decaf coffee while checking blogs counts the same.  Right?  Right, God?