googlicious February 27, 2009

 

I do my best to keep up with technology but I’ll admit a few things – I’m not on Facebook, I’m scared of iPhones and I don’t understand Tweeter.  There are very few people (probably one that I can think of) who I’d care to be updated on that frequently and to be completely honest, if I were to start “tweeting” or whatever, I can’t imagine having something that exciting happen to write about everyday, let alone every hour or every 15 minutes.  My life just isn’t that interesting all the time, but if you’d like to know what my bowling average is frame by frame tonight, let me know. 

 

Anyway, I do find pleasure in occasionally using technology to my advantage, like in the sense that I can see what you people are searching for on Google to get to my blog.  The search terms are interesting, sometimes making me question what I write about and sometimes making me question the idea of restraining orders.  For the most part though, I find them fairly entertaining.  Here are my favorites, in no particular order:

 

• three teens on mr softie ice cream truck
• emily rose and usa pilot – It’s true.  I have a thing for Sully.
• dog ate rose petals
• the emily rose cocktail bourbon – Awesome.  If this drink actually exists, please tell me.
• emily traitor
• navy beans & pork hocks
• candy bacon – Sounds delicious.
• emily delaurentis rose
• broken wrist
• delicious and emily and rose – Yes, and yes.
• i dated a food critic
• carb count Courvoisier
• the exercising of emily rose
• morgan freeman glove at the grammy’s – My real favorite.
• samuel l jackson’s gloved hand at grammy
• emily rose, florida state – Creepy, who are you out there looking for me?
• when i make ham and bean soup my booth I – And that’s it.  They just stopped right there.

from FL to Chi-town to NY to LA. . . February 25, 2009

Some things I’ve just come to accept living in Los Angeles, aside from all the yogis and their hippie water bottles:

 

50% of Angelenos are vegan and another 40% are in AA.  That leaves me with 10% for dinner and/or happy hour.

 

In a couple months I’ll turn 26 years old and I’m pretty sure I’m going to ask for a bicycle for my birthday.  I live at the beach and feel like this on the inside:

  

All movies are now films.  And every single person you come into contact with has an expert opinion on these films, from the direction to the costume design.  They’re all critics and according to each of them, they’re always right.

  

Ahhnold Schwarzenegger will never be the same. 

just me and the pickle lady February 24, 2009

I called my mom the other day and it came as no surprise that she was out and about tooling around in the middle of nowhere central Florida.  She’s a sucker for thrift stores and antiques and loves to tell me about all of the little gems she finds across town.  (I use the word “town” very liberally – think of the teeny tiniest little countryside built on a bunch of lakes.  One grocery store and I’m pretty sure a single sheriff.  Very cute and very Southern.)  She’ll read off a grocery list of her latest finds, always followed by, “and guess how much?!?!?!?”  A brief pause usually follows, I give my best guess and nine times out of ten she responds with an answer somewhere between $4.00 and $9.00.  Occasionally she’ll splurge, but my mom can usually find anything for a steal and whether you need it or not, you now have two.  It’s her claim to fame and it gives her a bigger high than a nitrous oxide mask.

 

So anyway, I call my mom and ask what she was looking for on this particular bargain hunt.  “A pickle jar,” she says.

 

“I’ve been looking for a cute little pickle jar and I want something old fashioned.”  I was a little surprised, but thought that was awesome because never in a million years could I imagine my mom pickling away her own cukes.  I started to picture her wearing a fancy apron and singing along to The Sound of Music while she frolicked around the kitchen plucking cardamom, mustard seed and vinegar from the shelves.  At some point she stops to peer out the window towards the lake and a blue jay lands on the windowsill. 

 

“Wow, look at you.  Making your own pickles.  You go girl.”

 

Then very quickly she said with a laugh, “Oh hell no.  You know I don’t care about all of that stuff.  I just don’t want to keep lookin’ at the Vlassic jar in my fridge.  I’d rather put my pickles in somethin’ a little prettier.”

 

Clearly, Mom got the antique gene that I avoid like the plague and my passion for cooking skipped over her generation completely.

 

Love ya, Mama.  Even though you’re crazy.

“Woman Uses Wedgie to Capture Suspected Thief” February 20, 2009

http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2009/02/17/ap/strange/main4807636.shtml

 

Poor guy.  The economy is bad and he was just trying to break into a little ol’ car so he could drive to work, I’m sure.  Didn’t even see it coming. 

 

The real bad guy in this sitch is the advertising executive who thought it was a good idea to market wedgies for a taco place. 

 

http://adblog.msnbc.msn.com/archive/2009/02/09/1782644.aspx

Luke, I ate your baby February 17, 2009

Right about now you’re probably wondering what could be better than post-Valentine’s Day chocolate clearances and the spakin’ new installment of Cadbury eggs.  If you’re thinking Peeps, wrong.  150% wrong.  And gross. 

 

No, it’s not the resurrection of Jebus.  (For some of you maybe, but I’m still figuring out all of that hocus pocus and since I consider the two of us – me and you, the world wide intraweb – to still be courting, I’ll keep those opinions all to myself until our conversations slip into something a little more comfortable.)

 

Anyway, I’m talking KING CAKE.  With that cute little plastic baby inside that you try not to choke on and when you find it, you’re half excited and half creeped out. 

 

I realize that there are religious aspects to King Cakes, which I likely would disagree with, but who cares.  It’s a novelty anyway and I’m not boycotting Lucky Charms just because last year I found out leprechauns don’t really exist. 

 

I’ve never made a King Cake before, but it’s all new in ’09 so I’m thinking of giving it a shot.   Where the heck do I find one of those little babies, though?  I didn’t find it in my slice last year (okay, in any of my slices) so technically I’m breaking the law by starting a new thread.  Rogue. 

 

I’ll probably make this one unless you have a better idea. . . but don’t be surprised, especially you suckers in my office, if you find a mini Darth Vader or a Lego man inside, instead of a naked little fetus.

riddle me this February 16, 2009

Who said it was okay for popcorn to be a snack at the movies and why couldn’t they have chosen something, oh I don’t know, maybe a little less deafening? 

 

I finally went to see The Wrestler this weekend (awesome) and had a difficult time hearing the on-stage staple gun tactics over what seemed to be 25 people sitting immediately to my left, my right, in my lap and on my shoulders, all chowing down about 38 kernels at a time.  I’d rather smell hot dogs and deviled eggs for 2 hours than hear horses people chewing on popcorn during the whole dang thing.

 

I’m not a movie nazi (unlike some of my friends – you know who you are) and I love popcorn, but I just don’t get it.

 

I’m going to open up my own movie theater in Santa Monica and only sell cupcakes, falafel and macaroni & cheese.  

Noooooooooooo February 16, 2009

MSN Health & Fitness just told me that Twix – my hands down, without a doubt favorite piece of deliciousness of all time -  is the worst candy bar I can consume.  The amount of saturated fat is equivalent to 11 STRIPS OF BACON.  Eleven. 

 

My heart has been broken and smashed into little chocolate and caramel-covered graham cracker shards. 

my best friend, the baker February 11, 2009

At least she’s cute.

http://marriageconfessions.wordpress.com/2009/02/11/i-bake-therefore-i-am/

hmm. February 10, 2009

 

 

So the bajillionaire who funds my organization has a private art gallery in Santa Monica and we’ve been graciously invited to a private tour on Thursday night.  I’m pretty stoked since it’s supposed to be a great collection and it’s been a while since I’ve been to a fancy gallery.

 

We were encouraged to bring a guest, so I asked a friend of mine who’s also an art fan if he wanted to go.  His response was exactly this:  “Will there be pigs in a blanket?”

 

I may or may not lose all guest privileges for work social events from this point forward.

word to the wise February 10, 2009

 

Let me save you some time and a few bucks. . .

 

 

The new Banana Nut Cheerios sounded delish; however, I haven’t been so disappointed since Revolutionary Road.  (Sorry, the company was totes fab but the movie made me want to kill myself.)

 

Skip both.