Food Matters

• Pinkberry: i had been curious about this much-hyped food spot ever since i read KT’s review of it on her Gastronomy 101 blog. so on a warm day, our taste buds piqued, Mo and i took a leisurely walk to this frozen yogurt-esque shop to sample what all the fuss was about. and it was, as KT noted, totally underwhelming. it tasted like a tart slushie that had sat in the freezer too long.
  
  and hullo, just two flavors? no sugary-cereal-as-toppings gimmick can mask the fact that variety is lacking here — and i need variety in my frozen treats. and i need yum flavor, also lacking. but hey, it’s popular with the kids; the ones who helped bring this fad to the forefront: generic college kids in their hoodies, the type who bring glowsticks to raves. they were in line all around us.



• Taco Truckin: Polly had a birthday party in Highland Park the other week, a fun party in a gorgeous craftsman house where i talked to a lot of strangers and drank red wine, Mo by my side. as nice as that was, the night’s highlight had to be the stop we made both before and after that party: to an unmarked taco truck we found on Fig, where we ate $1 tacos so profoundly impressive to my taste buds that their mere memory is making me salivate as i type this.
  
  cut to sunday night in bed: Mo and i retired for the evening, undressed, spent and still discussing these magical tacos. cut to three hours later: Mo at the bedside waking me from a deep sleep, saying, “i got up and got tacos from a truck on Santa Monica. want some?” cut to five minutes later: Mo and i eating tacos at 2 a.m. at the coffee table.



• crockpot sundays: also known as make-a-grip-of-food-so-you-have-leftovers-to-take-to-work-all-week day. i’ve made some good soups, stews, a jambalaya, some roasts and a whole hen that produced a crazy good stock as byproduct. next up: homemade fish stock, so Mo and i can perfect our bouillabaisse recipe.
  
  we tried the other week with lackluster, store-bought stock and spent a good hour scrubbing the mussels and clams with a scouring pad before throwing them aside in a bowl. and while they sat in this holding bowl — awaiting their death-by-steamer fate that would have them opening wide to expose their tender, yummy uvulas — they made noise. like snap, crackle, popping noises that caused them to shift in the bowl. i’ll confess that i haven’t cooked with much “living” food before, and this made me very uncomfortable.

Spring Fling

nothing helps cheer a girl up faster than a fabulous party, especially one populated by her dearest friends who rally in her home and raise a glass to nothing in particular. i think i will make this an annual tradition from now on: The Purposeless Party. no gifts, costumes or holiday greetings required. just people standing around drinking, which is, for all intents and purposes, the essence of all parties are anyway.

of course this could never replace the self-indulgent birthday bonanza extravaganza i host for myself each june. that’s still on the calendar for this june, when i will be turning the inconsequential age of 31. expect no melodramatic chronicles or lamentations. i might even make the party all about my pup Juice, who also has her birthday in june. she will be turning the all-important age of 5.

but back to real-time... here are a few party pix.


even purposeless panties parties need a name: Mo and i called our the Ides of March Flirt-Fest and Cocktail Giveaway. the flirty Care Bear panties appeared on the Evite, and inspired guests to be very “creative” when leaving their acceptance or declination response. great examples of this were juan’s “going commando!!” acceptance and dee’s philosophical musing “what if you have menses?”


stocked and artfully arranged: was the outdoor bar.


the welcoming committee: Juice on the lookout for people whose faces she can lick.


it was 9:30pm: Mo and i started to get nervous, all like “no one is coming. our party is a dud. cancel the strippers.” just kidding, there were no strippers, only clowns.


hijinks & hilarity: the clown’s name was Damien.


and the people came: and they drank and rejoiced and blew cigarette smoke at me and my camera.


always auditioning: my favorite coworker and token actor friend Phillip gives a headshot smile by the tree.


it got cold: so we hauled our asses inside.


c/o ’94: Ann, Raidis and Damien representing for our high school daze, as usual.


talk talks: Mo and Phillip debate the word “conversate.”


the alien hand? Frank’s hang loose might be the reincarnation of Dave’s alien hand, which was sadly not in attendance this time.


laugh laughs: Juice told the funniest joke to Raidis.


lick licks: then she planted a sloppy one on Ann, who had crumbs on her face.


kiss kisses: wendy the goddess, with her fiery plant halo, smooches juan the lucky bastard.

and you should have seen the orgy that followed. but those photos are not for public posting. just kidding! we only had clowns.

What I Need

a vacation: i have been holed up in hell-lay for too long. a three-day weekend in SF happened four months ago, last November, and i haven't had cause to use my passport, which just expired, for the past four years. i'd be happy to spend another weekend in SF or maybe Mexico. hell, even Oxnard would work right now. calgon, take me away!

money: broke like a big, broke joke. credit card bills been coming, borne of christmastime indulgences; new C&B super chair also came, with a hefty oustanding balance; new printer/scanner/copier multifunctional ass-kicking, tree-killing machine for home office arrived from amazon, on sale but not free; and Costa Mesa tech class also came with costs. where is that tax refund?

zsa zsa gabor: i wouldn't mind if she called me again. it was kinda cool the other two times it happened.

sustained focus: motivation for the Secret Project has been waning and i've still got miles to go until completion. i could and should be doing more, but instead i pursue distractions that lead into more distractions until the day is drained. plus the purpose is murky, making the dedication hard to muster.

domestic bliss: Mo and i have been swimming in a beef stew lately. relationship flareups, bustups, bickerings, exasperation. no good reason behind it. no easy resolution to it. maybe we both need a vacation, one with romance.

conditioning hair treatment: the mop is getting sloppy, despite my religious use of overpriced Aveda products. be it age or overprocessing, the hair on my head keeps thinning, graying, frizzing -- ensuring more bad hair days than good.

time: there's plenty on the clock, i just need to get better at managing it. not sure why, but only about half the items on the to do list get done lately, and poorly. and then comes the scramble of finding extra time -- for myself, my relationships, the housework, the gym and all the other forsaken items and obligations that were avoided in the original to do list.

a brighter bright side: wtf is up with the moon, the tides, the ides of march? i'm all whines and woes, focusing only on the suckage. i'll come around, i'm sure. it's just tension passing through, as it tends to at times. it doesn't detract from all the goodness in existence; it only eclipses it momentarily. a sunrise is still scheduled for the morning. or something. whatever. i don't feel like writing anymore.