I'm exhausted. From dating.

For real. It's mentally tasking to talk and talk and talk about yourself (or them) and possibly have it lead no where and have to repeat the whole process again in a few weeks. Maybe my apathy is an indicator that the upcoming date I've got might not go well. I'm trying not shoot myself in the foot here, but this is the third date I've had in the last month and half and I'm worried I'm nearing jaded.

Which doesn't sound like a lot, but really, for this town it practically makes me a jezabell-esque sloot. If this doesn't pan out well, then I might have to give the actively dating scene a rest. And yes, I've heard it always happens when you've stopped looking but really that's bullshit because I didn't look for damn near three years and all I got out of it what some serious pent up sexual tension.

And then there is the funny, apparently gravational pull, that the last guy I really liked and I seem to have towards each other. In the last week I've run into him no less than 4 times, and this is a guy I hadn't run into for a least a month. I'm pretty sure that he's about to get a restraining order, but that could be because I like to stand outside his bedroom window at night and stare at him.

That is going to be the thought I'm going to leave you with for this long holiday weekend, I'm off work tomorrow for a lovely 4 day weekend so I hope everyone enjoys their annual break from labor. Drink up.


Of note

The woman at the coffee house laughed at me this morning when I order a small non-fat latte with 2 extra shots. Listen up, it's Monday and I had insomnia last night. Just give me my goddamn coffee.

Also, I'm fully convinced that I am the sort of person who continually likes to bang their head into the same wall over and over again and expects different results. Yet, really, all I end up with is a headache and a dented wall.

I make toast.

This might be the best thing I've seen since Lincoln passed out all those times in the fighter jet.

Amblus gives you the backstory on this video but really, not a whole lot of explaination is needed because skull robot pens and pie= hilarity.


August Cooking Club

So here I am, procrastinating.

August was the month of salmon, ok, not really. But in regards to cooking club it was.

The mission: everyone bring a piece of salmon to be prepared their favorite/new way.

Valerie made smoked salmon, or rather her husband did. Which we all enjoyed on crackers with dijon mustard. It was delicious:

Yumi went for the wow! factor and made a salt encrusted salmon. She layered spinach under it since she was only using a filet and most salt encrusted dishes call for whole fish.

She topped the salt encrusted salmon with orange-infused roasted tomatoes, the tomatoes were quite fabulous.

Summer and I opted for the grilled fish. Hers was orange-burbon glazed:

Mine was a ginger/soy/vermouth marinated version- grilled to deliciousness:

Nancy roasted hers in the oven with orange and lemon, and then dressed it with a citrus pesto. The citrus pesto was most certainly a hit. It was bright and perfect, even delicious on bread:

She also made a roasted tomato dressing to go on top of spinach, walnut and goat cheese. This was also wonderful:

And because the weather was perfect, not hot or humid we dined outside:

The evening was capped off with freshly roasted coffee and Valerie's homemade peach pie. Which was perfectly spiced and not overly sweet. Then I floated home on a cloud of perfection and had an amazing night's sleep.

Labels: , ,


Did I seriously just say out loud to my entire office and yet no one in particular "I need to pee"?

Because I totally did.


Amy and Ben, they rock.

My college roommate's wedding this weekend was great, and everything I expected it to be. First off let me say I love Amy dearly and her new husband is awesome. He's cute, smart and funny and clearly has excellent taste because he loves Amy.

I've known Amy for nearly 10 years now and I still remember the first time we bonded. Basically I kicked her ass at Asshole and made her do all sorts of silly things that caused her to become inebriated. From there our casual acquaintance blossomed into true friendship, the sort of friendship that is forged when you live with someone for several years and somehow make it out of it still liking each other- even if the other person has a predilection for making food and then consuming two bites before they declare themselves full and throw it away. Don't throw away the food AMY, I'll eat it. There are starving children and roommates who will gladly eat your Kraft Macaroni and Cheese if you don't want it. Not to mention the total asshole of a boyfriend you had, the one who like to throw up over our balcony for hours the morning after our parties rather than using the bathroom or going home and according to him "was hung like a light switch". He was a tool.

The actual wedding ceremony was great, very short but very touching. After the wedding Amy and Ben greeted each row of guests and as I approached them Ben said "Uh, oh. Here comes trouble." Clearly the man has spent some time with me.

There was one personal hiccup though, one of our other roommates was at the wedding. I've not spoken to her since February when she stood me up for the Kathy Griffin show, she never called to apologize, she stopped taking my calls and really I want nothing at all to do with her. But for Amy's sake I played nice and pretended that nothing happened and so did she (which isn't anything new, her M.O. is to be a bitch and then pretend she was never mad at you). So that sucked but whatever, I won't talk to her again if I can possibly avoid it.

And then there were several of the bridesmaids, whom I went to college with, who acted like they had sucked on lemons and were constipated when I said hello to them after the wedding. They were pretty bitch-tastic in college and time has only intensified that. Although a couple of them proved to be hilarious when at the reception they cut off the bottom's of their dresses to better dance in.

Ben is from Boston so there was a thick conglomeration of hilarious Boston accents, like his cousin (with each ear pierced with thick gold hoops- like a pimp but on a super irish white guy) who went absolutely crazy when someone brought out a video camera and the DJ's played Insane-in-the-membrane. This guy basically created his own music video my randomly screaming into the video camera while popping up and down in and out of the frame, I really don't think Cypress Hill could hold a candle to this guy and his enthusiasm or showmanship. What was even funnier was that on the limo-bus back to the hotel he sat behind me and kept telling everyone how "Wicked wasted I am. I'm totally going to puke on my shoes."

Limo buses to and from the hotel to reception rock. It allows the partying to start earlier and for semi-drunken friends to ask the bar for beers the road on the way back to the hotel. The party should not stop at the reception, so thank you Amy and Ben.

And of course there was the fact that it was Ben and Amy's doing that I kissed a DJ at the last wedding we were all at together, so this time Ben came to me on the dance floor and said "Hey, what are you doing over here? The DJ's are that way." That boy has a smart mouth, and thus will forever be in my good graces.

And I did talk to the DJ's, twice. One to ask them to play the Apt. #2 theme song and then a second time to yell at them for playing the theme song during the dollar dance. I really did run up to the DJ booth and yell at them "You can't play this song now. It's for the roommates ONLY. STOP IT." The DJ looked at me and said "You really want me to stop this song in the middle?" Like I had just asked him to take off all of his clothes and do the Hokey Pokey with Amy's grandma. And really, that wouldn't have been so scandelous since he had already done some sort of floor humping dance during The Atomic Dog (mimed sex acts at wedding receptions are always awesomely appropriate).

"Yes, the Bride demands it." I said pointing at her protesting on the dance floor and he acquiesced.

Most of my dance moves consisted of me dancing halfway across the floor and then back towards my friends, like we were playing some odd version of Red Rover. I do believe I busted out 'the sprinker' a couple of times as well. As for embarrassing myself- it doesn't matter, I'm sure they've seen me do a lot worse than bad dance moves at this point.

Later in the evening Apt. #2 took it to that place where we were the most obnoxious people in the room by holding hands and screaming the lyrics of Making Love Out of Nothing At All by Air Supply.

It was the perfect end to the evening.

Then I went back to the hotel and played with the awesome sleep number bed. My magic sleep number is 30 or 35.

Labels: , ,


Everyone needs to see this movie.

It broke my heart.

If you have any love for beautifully written songs and guitar playing the music will blow you away.

Be forwarned that seeing this movie might drive you pick up the phone and call an old lover and demand that he come over and hold you. Luckily I managed to pull my finger away from the call button and didn't complete the dial.

Seriously boring

After reading Sarah's awesome recap of her weekend I'm more than a little disappointed in mine. I spent it being the hired guns for several of my friends.

And if 'hired gun' had actually meant taking people out then it wouldn't have been so lame, instead I was Bob-Villa-Skeezix. Friday night I helped my friend pick up rocks in her yard. Big, huge rocks.

Awesomely they having a pool put in and the excavating had unearthed rocks and scattered them about her yard. I am hoping that my helping will earn me several invitations to the pool.

Then on Saturday I rocked Kate's house where I spent 9.5hrs painting. At one point Kate said that she was glad I was there because I was like having two more people since I'm the best painter ever.

Sunday there was more painting.

Boring. At least they all plied me with beer.

God, I need to go out. I'm still single and I need a date.


Next up: Another Triathlon

Yes, I've got a seriously bad case of post-race blues. I'm trying not to beat myself up too badly but I'm hellishly disappointed in my times and wish I had done better. It's like I've got this fog in my head that is clouding what should be a happy time for me. I feel like bursting into tears. It's ridiculous. I feel listless and without direction, the life I've gotten used to living of constant training and focus is gone. I honestly don't know what to do with myself.

Aparently the best way to get over the post-race blues is to wait it out or start training/sign up for another one. So I'm pretty sure I'm doing another Tri in Sept. I really just need it. I don't know if I'll get another case of race blues after that but at least now I know what to expect and I feel like I have a purpose again.

This is how addicts are made, aren't they?