I just realized that the cafe up my street only has like four or five ingredients and then mixes them up in different ways to make their lunch menu. This is what Taco Bell does, but I never eat at Taco Bell unless I am on a road trip or if I am hungry and Taco Bell is nearby or if I’m walking by a Taco Bell on my way home or if I feel like eating Taco Bell which is like all the time. But other than that I do not eat there. The closest Taco Bell is right near the entrance to the Holland Tunnel and it is always filled with Jersey high school club kids who are going to SOB’s or the Culture Club which has 80s nights and they are dressed exactly like the hipsters in Williamsburg except they are doing it as a joke and the hipsters like wear that stuff ‘for real.’ Anyway it’s so awful in there I haven’t made a run for the border in a long, long time. Like since last week. OK what is your point, you stupid girl? I’m getting to it just shut up for a second and let me finish.

The point is, that the cafe up the street makes scones and muffins and then has sandwiches and salads. But they are all made with the same five ingredients. It’s incredible. Like oh we have a vegetable frittata today with onions, peppers, and artichokes. We also have an onion, pepper, and artichoke sandwich and we have a cream of artichoke soup today and our salad of the day is greek, with onions and pepper and feta. I just realize this is not very interesting, nor is it a new phenomenon to any restaurant or cafe, but I’ve been going to this place for like six years, it is like I am just waking up or something. It’s still delicious, better than Taco Bell, oh my god I can’t believe I just said that. Sorry Taco Bell I am cheating on you with someone who has even less ingredients than you.

I eat a lot of toast. I think I have mentioned this before, somewhere. I eat many pieces of toast a day. In the process of making and eating toast, I sometimes leave crumbs. I happen to be very conscientious about leaving crumbs, but toast is full of crumbs. In fact, it’s like crumbs stuck together and shaped into a piece of bread. So no matter how careful I am, I leave crumbs. Then I have to vacuum, etc. Sometimes I want to chase myself around my apartment with a vacuum cleaner while I eat toast.

So, what if I made some kind of bib out of sticky tape? Then all the crumbs fall and hit the tape. OH MY GOD I AM BRILLIANT. I WILL BE RICH DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT STEALING MY IDEA.

Then I was thinking how all my friends with pets always have lint rollers and complain about the hair situation. So why not make it easier by making some kind of overcoat or smock out of lint rollers? It’d be a lot easier than shaving your cat. Then when you leave the house, you can take it all off and ta da your clothes are pet hair free! Or you can make a lint roller outfit for your pet. I mean if pets can wear sweaters and hoodies the can certainly wear lint rollers. I should get the patent on this pronto.

Frank Gehry has a patent on the “fish shape.” Can you believe that? I didn’t until someone showed it to me on the U.S. Patent Office website. It seems ridiculous that one can own a patent on a shape. You’d think that fish would own the patent on that one. If I were a fish, I’d be pretty pissed. I’d get a patent on Frank Gehry-shaped things and then sue him for being shaped like Frank Gehry.

I made soup last night. I made enough soup for ten people, which was nine more than I needed. I don’t know what happened, but all of the sudden I had enough soup to feed a nation. This is one of those situations, like the Homies, where I’d MAIL SOUP to people. But if the USPS is going to steal Homies, you know they’re going to steal soup. Everyone likes soup. Like everyone. I mean it. Every culture/country has a soup. Hmm, they think, all I have is this carcass and a turnip and I am hungry and oddly thirsty too. I wonder what I can make? Ding, ding, ding SOUP.

The soup is roasted butternut squash. It looks like pureed sunshine. And it tastes delicious. It tastes like fairies. If you do not know what fairies taste like, then all I can say is that it tastes like my soup. I had a squash sitting on top of my fridge for a week and I got sick of looking at it. I mean I lugged the thing home from the store and it just sat there taunting me on top of my rice cooker which is on top of my fridge which is on top of my floor which is on top of my downstairs neighbor who is about a thousand years old and smokes so much I can smell cigarettes when I pass his door. So the squash says to me, ha ha ha, I am going to rot before you eat me, you suck! I hate you! So then I got severely angry and thought, hey squash, you know what? I’m going to eat the crap out of you and we’ll see who will be taunting who, you jackass. Then I realized I was sitting in my kitchen, which is also my bedroom, talking to a squash.

So, I thought I would roast it. So I roasted it. Then I thought, hmm, it is cold outside. You know what would be delicious? Soup. Let me make a soup. So I did (roasted onions, carrots, an apple, vegetable stock, cardamom, cinnamon, thyme, a muddy boot, fairies, children, and fairy children). Then all of the sudden I was pureeing for like half an hour and had more soup then I knew what do with. It’s not like I can make anything else out of soup, you know? Like I can’t bread it and deep fry it or something. So I had about a quarter of a bowl and decided, you know what? I’m gonna go out to dinner. Because quite frankly, I was sick of the soup even though I hadn’t really eaten it. I don’t know if that ever happens to you. But I cook something and then I never want to eat it even though it’s perfectly delicious. So now my fridge is full of soup. SOUP!

I keep getting outbid on Homies, it’s really irritating. I looked everywhere for a vending machine. Please sit tight I will have Homies shortly.

My friend Mr. Pony and I have been swapping refrigerator p0rn, where we take pictures of what’s inside our fridges and then get really grossed out or be like WTF. Pony lives in Hawaii and from what I can tell eats a lot of stuff that’s been pickled, fermented, or pickled and fermented and turned into paste. He also has an empty butter dish (he says it’s invisible butter) in the fridge and also breast milk, but I’m 99% positive it’s not for him.

He eats stuff like this.

Dude! MACKEREL CURRY. IN A CAN. You know, for when you’re on the go. Like, I really need something that quenches my thirst. Oh, look! Mackerel curry in convenient to-go size. I shall take this to the gym. It’s so obvious that Pony bought this for the packaging. My friend Zechariah does the same thing with mysterious Chinese products of mystery. Like his apartment is filled with random Chinese stuff and you’re like hey, what’s this? And he’s like it’s either rice noodles or moth balls. I don’t have the luxury of space to do stuff like that. So my fridge isn’t nearly as good as Pony’s:

I found a sweater in the crisper, but then I figured out it was a bell pepper. Nice. I’d say that 80% of the crap that’s in my fridge is bad.

Here’s a shot of the freezer:

I eat a lot of toast. And ice cubes. I think those are peas. I use them strictly to treat tendonitis.

The outside of my fridge is more interesting. My friend Aura works at People, the most important news publication of our time, and sends me random press photos.

That’s Ricky Martin. Pony didn’t know who he was, because Pony lies on a secluded island where the only culture comes in a can of mackerel curry. “Dude, he sang ‘She Bangs!
and ‘Livin’ La Vida Loca.’” Huh? “He was in Menudo.” Ohhhhhhhhh!

WTF.

Ok here is something sweet:

Aaron’s mom was moving out of her house and Aaron went down to clean up. He found some old party favors from when he was 8 or 9. This is a real, vintage G.I. Joe collectable eraser. It’s of the guy who carries the phone. I always felt bad for the dude who had to carry the phone. Like, here. You don’t get a gun. You get a phone. It’s really heavy. Try not to get killed because then we won’t have a phone. His name is Lifeline. I think if I were 9 and got a Lifeline eraser at a party I’d be pretty pissed. Everyone wants the Snake Eyes or Duke erasers, not a stupid Lifeline eraser. Anyway now I have it, and I’m pretty stoked.

This is my first blog post of 2008. Let me tell you, this post may look and feel exactly like a post from 2007, but don’t be fooled. It is a 2008-era blogging. You ladies and gents got your finger on the pulse. Do you feel that? What does it feel like? Is it ELECTRIC? This is the most current 2008 post until I write another one. Consider yourself “caught up” and “updated.” You are starting the new year right and on time. I’m proud of you. I’m also proud of myself for reasons I don’t even know, mostly because people tell me to be proud of myself. So I am. You should be proud of yourself too. Actually let’s all take a break and pat ourselves on the back. (I actually did that yesterday at work. Sometimes I do that and I feel like a jerk and then I think, wait, I am actually good at my job. Pat, pat, pat, pat).

My family doesn’t celebrate Christmas, despite my parents being super-Catholic, so everyone did their own thing, just like any other night, and I had dinner with the Moyer family. Mike is an old friend from college and my parents happened to move two miles away from his parents, so it’s all convenient. What I learned is that the Moyer family will not eat anything unless it’s made out of pork, duck, or pork and duck. And butter. And alcohol. Yet everyone is pretty thin and healthy so it’s all very confusing. But pork and duck are close friends of the Moyer family. Mike has duck set to speed dial on his phone. It’s ranked higher than his sisters. Well actually duck is ranked higher than Maggie, but not as high as Kate. They are twins. Mike really likes his sisters but he also really likes duck. So he just sort of split the twins up to make it fair. Also it is interesting to note that Mike also took Virgin America and they also LOST HIS LUGGAGE. His came on the next flight though. Mine didn’t.

New Year’s was spent with my friends and not my family, which was the most amazing thing ever. I went to my friend’s party and there was a very good mix of architects and non-architects and also a very good mix of alcohol. I did not feel well the next day. I did feel guilty about not being with my family but then I fell back asleep so that was cool.

I also forgot to mention that my toilet overflowed at home and it was so bad I don’t even want to talk about it. So I called my super but he wasn’t home so he sent his son who is a nice kid but is not a super. He tried to snake the pipe and then flushed and all of the sudden I was like NOOOOOOOO in slow-motion because of course the toilet overflowed again. And he started to panic and I’m like TURN IT OFF OH MY GOD TURN IT OFF TURN OFF THE WATER and he’s like WHERE? WHERE? WHERE? I’m like THE LITTLE KNOB RIGHT THERE COME ON. So then he called his mom to help him out. It was like watching my brother and my mom fight over fixing something. Totally awful. I started getting itchy and everything.

Then my landlord decided, hey, you like heat? TOO BAD. Then he mooned everyone in the building. But wait, he said, don’t you like the little wreaths I put up in the hallways? That was a nice and festive touch don’t you think? YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE NICE AND FESTIVE MR. LANDLORD? HEAT.

I am making vegetarian shepherd’s pie for Thanksgiving this year. Many vegetarian shepherds will die in the making of my pie. I apologize for this. Note to vegetarian shepherds: Sorry. And also, run for your lives! My friends are getting a “castrated turkey rooster” for their Thanksgiving. It’s called a capon, but we’re calling it a “ball-less cock.” It’s supposed to taste better. Ball-less cocks are supposed to taste better. Who knew? We were trying to figure out how you’d castrate a turkey since birds have complicated balls, from what I understand. We decided it involved a lot of coaxing and pinching. And then a “Oh look over there!” and a big snip.

Anyway I am looking through recipes right now and I’ve decided I am on the fence about potatoes. I think, hey, potato, I will eat you. And then I eat it and I think, hrm, potato, you are not very exciting, even with butter and sour cream or mashed with garlic or fried with ketchup. The love just does not happen for me. It’s not that I hate potatoes, I just rather eat other things. People really like potatoes. I mean really, truly love them. And I think, am I the only one who thinks potatoes have the consistency of wallpaper paste? Do you even know what wallpaper paste tastes like? No? Well it tastes like potatoes. Anyway that is on my mind these days, potatoes. That and the fact that someone quoted me $1600 to recover the data off my hard drive. So I guess what I’m saying is that I rather eat a potato than pay $1600. I am close to saying fuck it all and just get a new one and move on with my life. This means that my life is not worth $1600, which is probably true.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Sometimes I am in the mood for a soda and I think hey, I will drink a soda. Why not? I should “live a little.” But then I discovered Diet Coke Plus and I got very sad. Do you know about this? It is totally ridiculous. It’s Diet Coke PLUS vitamins. Look, I drink Diet Coke specifically because it does not have vitamins. I do not want my Diet Coke to be healthy. I want it to rot my teeth until they’re little nubs and I have to throw all my food in a blender to eat it or get the fancy titanium bone graft implants that my dad has (who interestingly enough, rarely drinks soda). I want my body to be filled with all that glorious high fructose corn syrup and caffeine and whatever MSG type crap they put in their “secret recipe” that makes Coke so MF flavorful and delicious. I want all of this, yes. Listen, Diet Coke, you are not fooling anyone. I know your little games. Coke will never be healthy unless you replace it with water and call it Coke. Just saying. I guess the idea is that someone will want a Coke and think, hey, why not get Coke with vitamins? Anyway, the moral of this sad, sad story is that you should take vitamins if you want vitamins and drink Coke if you want Coke. And never the two shall meet. OR I guess we can go the other way and add Coke to salad. Like if you’re going to eat vitamins, might as well eat corn syrup and caffeine. It is an idea. Diet Coke with Salad.

I have a new blog post up at Emeco. This time it’s an open letter to Philippe Starck. Also if you are Australian and you are an architect and you are part of the Royal Australian Institute of Architects, then check out this week’s newsletter. I have written an open letter to all of you. I will post up the PDF’s here when I get them. This whole newsletter thing is very random. And since the first piece of hate mail I ever received was from an Australian architect, it makes it all the more awesome and strange at the sametime.

The Emeco people invited me to dinner at Morimoto this evening. I will go, but I am vegetarian so the whole experience will be lost on me. But there’s always something vegetarian right? I can eat the napkins. Also, because I am very immature, I keep thinking of…

“IRON CHEF JAPANESE MASAHARU MORIMOTO!”
“Hai!”
“How do you think you fared today at Kitchen Stadium?”
“I think I did very well thank you.”
“And what about today’s secret ingredient?”
“At first I said to myself, mmm, uni…it’s so smooth in texture and so delicate. But then I started to cook, it all came together. Everything happened so fast!”
“Hahaha yes, time is always a factor here in Kitchen Stadium. Do you think you will win, Iron Chef Morimoto?”
“I am very confident, yes. I think I will win.”
“But you are facing a very tough challenger today.”
“Yes, but I am confident. I believe my dishes are the best.”
“Good luck, Iron Chef Morimoto!”
“Thank you.”

Then there are the judges:
“Normally… I do not like uni. It is always so…slimy. But I have to say, this is delicious! It is like…like a musical for my tongue! I love it!”

“I agree! The balance of flavors is so…well done. That must be why they call you Iron Chef!” tee hee hee

Now that I read it, I realize it’s MUCH funnier in my head. Trust me if you heard it in my head you’d bust a nut.

And honestly, my favorite is Iron Chef Chinese Chen Kenichi because he looks a little doughy and always looks insecure even though he is IRON CHEF. Then he’s like “Oh I just thought of recipes my father used to make.” I also like Iron Chef Sakai because he looks like a Japanese Tom Skerrit except skinnier. He also looks like a fox. I don’t know why. I wonder if the Iron Chefs get pissed that they have to wear satin chef outfits. That does not look like it breathes. They look like outcasts from the Pink Ladies or something.

For my birthday, Aura got me an Aeroccino. Do you know of this machine from the future? It is from the same team of GENIUSES who brought you the Nespresso machine. Get on this: It’s a machine that froths milk. You think, hah, frothy milk is for the anemic unicorn-lovers who like milk in their coffee because they are too weak to take it straight up and black like a real man. I don’t care. I like my milk frothy. I will dye it pink and add fairies and glitter and My Little Ponies if I have to. This machine seriously KICKS ASS. You open the top. You put in (soy) milk. You wait. For three seconds. Then MAGICAL FROTHY MILK comes out and you add it to your awesome coffee, making it infinitissimo awesome. I know you are jealous. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy. Unlike parents I can’t say “I haven’t been this happy since my kid was born.” And I can’t say “This is the happiest day of my life since my wedding.” I kind of feel like those answers are cheating anyway. No, sorry, you can’t use your lover or your kids anymore as an example of how happy you are. Anyway, I literally can’t think the last time I was this happy. I should quit my job and work for Nespresso but seriously I don’t think I’m smart enough. They are geniuses. They have STEEL TRAPS for brain. I have like a picket fence with termites.

I am going to a dessert pot luck tomorrow. I happen to like dessert because it’s always vegetarian unless it’s bacon pie or beef tarts or some shit. But everyone likes dessert right? Except for fascists. I hear they don’t eat desserts. They eat orphans and the elderly, and quite frankly they deserve to be eaten.

Anyway, I am thinking of making chipotle brownies. Which sounds like it could transport you to a place with a unicorn (see previous post) or make you vomit in your own mouth. It is a risk. Like I can totally be that girl and show up with a plate of chipotle brownies and people will be like oh man that girl sucks and I’ll forever be known as The Girl Who Sucks At Dessert Making. Which I suppose is OK because, to be honest, I’m not great at dessert making but come on, I don’t really suck at it. I hate being misunderstood. It is like being in high school, which is only one step above getting a colonoscopy on the list of things I Would Rather Not Do Unless Extremely Large Amounts Of Money Were Paid To Me.

Then there is the added pressure that the host of the party was trained at the French Culinary Institute and is a kick-ass real-life chef, and not some guy who claims he is “a good cook.” Like this guy is the real deal. Worked at Bouchon and some other sexy outfits in the city. He carries his knives with him to work. I wish my job let me carry knives. But since I’m not a chef, I’d have to work as a ninja or something. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but there just aren’t a lot of ninja opportunities in New York.

Anyway here is the recipe, if I do it I will let you know how it all goes down. Which is most likely a combination of sweet and spicy.