Thursday, October 29, 2009

Jumpin', Jumpin'

So Scott sends me an email yesterday saying, "Hey, what are we doing for Halloween, blah, blah, blah... Oh, by the way, I got jumped from behind by three guys yesterday."


Why so casual? You better believe that if I got jumped/mugged, EVERYONE would know what the fuck was up. I'd be on the 6 o'clock news.

I guess that means that Scott isn't a big drama queen like I am.

So, in light of this horrifying incident, I decided to create some ecards to help lift Scott's spirits.


Maybe I should go into the greeting card business. My tag line will be "For life's little messes." Wait, isn't that a paper towel company's slogan? Whatever.

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Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Fondue Bitches!

Now that I'm an adult with my own place, one of my favorite things to do is to spend a ton of money I don't have on throwing parties for my friends.

Oh, sure, back in the day (ie: a year ago, at college), when you threw a party you were just basically offering people shelter and a [relatively] clean bathroom to piss in. Everything was BYOB and the only food I got even close to serving was when my friends got hungry and raided my cabinets only to find that I only had granola bars and olive oil and no good drunk food like chips and queso dip.

Then we would all walk across the street to McDonald's and yell at the night manager who we dubbed "Snaggletooth." We called her a loser (not to her face, but definitely loud enough so she could hear it) and laughed about how we'd make more money in a year than she'd make in her entire life. This was not one of my best moments, but let me just say that the irony is not lost on me that she probably makes more money than I do now and is definitely less stressed out about things. So, joke's on me. You win, Snags.

Anyway, the point is that I wasn't a very good hostess.

But now that I have my own apartment and a pay check that amounts to a little bit more than beer money for the weekend (thanks, Marist College Office of Admissions), I have gotten fancier.

My housewarming party consisted of homemade onion dip, a roasted red pepper/eggplant dip, and various tiny pizzas (pesto shrimp and assorted vegetable). It seems that I'm moving closer and closer to a full-fledged meal, because this past weekend, everyone came over for a Fondue Party.

Everyone was all like, don't turn your fondue party into a fondon't party, hahahahaha. And I was like STFU, dbags.

The problem was that I had never made fondue before and I didn't have a proper fondue pot, so it wasn't going to stay warm for very long on my coffee table. I figured, hey, it's cheese, who cares? People were worried about my attitude towards this, but as always, I was right.

I made:

-One with Gruyere, Fontina, and white wine
-One with Cheddar and dark beer
-One with Cheddar, Swiss, and apple cider
-One that was basically just melted chocolate with a little heavy cream

Whenever I have a party where I need a lot of ingredients, I treat myself to a Fresh Direct delivery because my canvas bag and tiny Grandma cart with a faulty wheel ain't gonna cut it for such an ambitious shopping list. I always get the earliest possible delivery the day of the party so I can get everything ready. Unfortunately, I didn't realize how EARLY 7AM-9AM seems on a Saturday, and definitely didn't count on Scott coming over on Friday, us drinking 15 beers and then going out to the deli to buy another 30 rack. Imagine the Fresh Direct guys at 7:48AM, coming into my apartment and finding socks inexplicably hanging from the plant on my TV stand, 50 empty beer cans on my coffee table, me looking (and feeling) like I got hit by a bus, and Scott, passed out, in his clothes in a weird position on the couch.

I believe they were laughing, but I couldn't really tell because I was concentrating on trying to breathe without causing my head to explode.

Anyway, the party went off without a hitch, but I did end up having a lot of fondue left over, mainly because if we ate any more cheese at the time no one would be able to take a shit for about a week (except Abi, who is lactose-intolerant). Not wanting to waste about $40 worth of cheese, I got creative and bought dough from the store. I made cheese crepes and homemade hot pockets with the cheddar-beer mixture and steamed broccoli as well as chicken rollatini with the same ingredients.

I have officially become a domestic diva.


Monday, October 26, 2009

Move Out of Your House That's Also a City

Friday, October 23, 2009

This isn't actually true

I've actually been thinking a lot about my career lately, and how much I kind of want to jump off of the Brooklyn Bridge with weights in my pocket.

But Halloween is here! I was gearing up to just stay home this year after I didn't have much fun at a co-worker's party last year. Mainly because I didn't really know anyone there, except our intern, who stole my tall boy of Coors Light out of the fridge.

But, my old housemate from college is coming up, and Scott and Steph are dressing up as John & Kate Plus 8, so now I'm faced with trying to come up with a last-minute costume.

I'm not one for the big, uncomfortable costumes (a giant pumpkin, a can of beer, a table set for two people, etc.), and I'm definitely not interested in pretending to look like I could possibly be sexy in fishnets and a corset, so I always go for the funny and clever costume instead.

My senior year in college was my best costume year, mainly because I had two HILARIOUS ones:

Ellen Degeneres

A tourist at Niagara Falls

So now I've come up with another stroke of genius. I will be Sue Sylvester from Glee. For those of you who haven't watched Fox's new hysterical musical-comedy, let me just say that you are missing out. Jane Lynch, who plays the evil high school gym teacher and cheerleading coach is, as to be expected, the funniest part of the show, throwing out ridiculous one liners such as:

"I don't trust a man with curly hair. I can't help but picture little birds laying sulfurous eggs in there, and it disgusts me."

"You think this is hard? I'm living with hepatitis. That's hard!"

So, I'll be doing Halloween like "Sue C's it." Why is this a great Halloween costume?

1. Track suits are comfortable.
2. I'm always up for some obnoxious fun and whistles and stop watches provide that.
3. Sue always carries around a Nalgeine filled with some kind of protein shake. I will fill mine with liquor.

My only regret is that I didn't save the Ellen wig, because they're both old, blonde lesbians with essentially the same haircut. Oh, well. I just ordered a replacement wig from Party City titled "The Dude Wig." I think it's supposed to be for if you're dressing up as a surfer, but who cares.

Bring it on, Halloween. Bring it on.

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Thursday, October 15, 2009

Hundreds of Lions

Caught the Erin McKeown/Jill Sobule show last night in my neighborhood.

Check out my experience

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Tuesday, October 13, 2009

On second thought...

I guess I should be grateful I don't have one of these....

Wednesday, October 07, 2009


You know, I've been thinking (read: I've been obsessed) a lot about mice lately, and I think it's kind of ridiculous how as a society we have so many children's movies, books, cartoons, etc dedicated to these exoskeleton-less vermin.

New life motto: don't trust anything without an exoskeleton.

And you know what? I blame all of my mouse troubles on Walt Motherfucking Disney. No, Walt, I will not join your Mickey Mouse Club. No, Walt, I will not be a mouseketeer. MICE CARRY DISEASES.

But think of all of the messaging we got as kids that mice are cute and cuddly and friendly.



Oh hey, kids! You love pizza, right? You love skeeball right? Of course you do! Head on down to Chuck E. Cheese's, where your parents will spend $75 all so you can trade in 700 tickets for a pencil with a weird eraser, or some waxed lips. You know what I don't want? A mouse making my pizza. FUCK YOU.

As almost always with Disney movies, you don't realize how dark they are until later in life. As kids, all we remember are the key words "mean stepmother," "sweeping stuff up," "going to the ball," "Prince Charming," "happy ending." How fucked up is it that Cinderella has to sleep in this dank, disgusting room where mice are her only form of companionship? She makes them clothes! Isn't that cute? NO, IT'S NOT CUTE, IT'S FUCKED UP. And I don't care how those mice helped her escape or make something or do something (it's been awhile, I'm foggy on the details), I know what a girl wants. And what a girl DOESN'T WANT is a bunch of mice hanging around when she's FINALLY dancing with her Prince. Take a hint and get back under the oven.

I honestly have no idea what this movie is about, but it stars a mouse and that's enough to get me pissed off. I'm sick of these "mouse as hero" scenarios. Look at him—so proud, so defiant. You didn't look so proud sitting in my garbage can chewing on Clorox wipes the other night and then hiding behind the toilet before shoving yourself into the crack between the cabinet and the bathtub. FUCK YOU.

NO, MOUSE, I'M NOT GIVING YOU ANY COOKIES. This is AMERICA. Just because the Democrats are in the White House doesn't mean you should spend your life looking for handouts. GET A JOB AND PAY FOR YOUR OWN DAMN COOKIES, DOUCHEBAG.

As usual, The Simpsons is the only show that gets mice right. They are evil, homicidal maniacs who will disembowel your cat if given the chance. KILL HIM NOW BEFORE HE KILLS YOU.

Oh, Mickey, that's so sweet, giving your girlfriend chocolates. Do I need to remind you who bought those chocolates? ME. I bought those chocolates and you stole them, because YOU'RE A THIEF. I don't care if you're the most beloved cartoon character in history. You're an asshole.

I've never watched Mighty Mouse because I was too busy watching Designing Women or the Golden Girls or reading Carol Burnett's autobiography "One More Time" when I was a child (I was what my mother called "smarter than everyone" and what the kids at school called "weird." Remember that time for my 10th birthday party my dad took me to Blockbuster to get a movie for all of us to watch and I ended up renting "Evita?" Yeah, about that). BUT, fuck you and your fancy outfit, Mighty Mouse. You think you're better than me?

Speedy Gonzalez, you think you're so clever, running so fast and screaming "Andale! Andale! Arriba! Arriba!" all the time. You can't outsmart me and my steel wool and large feet. I'm waiting for you, dbag.

Stuart Little is part of the family. He wears people clothes, doesn't he? He's not part of my family. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, DAMMIT.

Jerry, always outsmarting that cat, living in the walls, hanging out in the house like he owns the place. We'll see how you feel when I close up that hole and you starve to death in the walls. I'LL SHOW YOU. I'LL SHOW ALL OF YOU.

Anyway, so the point is that I am SICK of mice been portrayed as cute and amusing.

Also, I've officially lost my mind.


Amanda Goes Crazy (Fievel Goes West)

This whole mouse thing is driving me crazy.

I've told everyone about the mouse, like I have just purchased a new puppy and it has consumed my personal life.

"I can't go out for drinks. Gotta get home to my mouse!" I'll say, or, "I have the smartest mouse in Brooklyn!"

Why is it so smart? Because I put out a trap with cheese on it, went to bed, and woke up the next morning with the cheese removed from the trap and no dead mouse.

It's just like that time when my cat would scratch on my bedroom door like it wanted to come in, so I'd get up, and open the door, and the cat would run away. He would do this at least three times in a row until I realized that essentially, the cat was playing "ding dong ditch" with me and I was losing. EVERY TIME.

But this little story is cute, because the annoying animal in question was a beloved family pet, and not a nasty, unwelcome rodent.

People have told me to put out peanut butter because it's sticky and they can't just grab it from the trap. That all sounds reasonable, but guess what I'm not gonna do? GO GROCERY SHOPPING FOR THE MOUSE. I don't eat peanut butter. Therefore, I don't have it in my house. I'm not going to make a special trip to the store to buy peanut butter for an unwanted house guest. It just seems crazy to me.

I know it's an old building in New York City and all buildings have them, but I am pretty sure that Milagra's trash picking tendencies have brought him/them into my apartment.

I saw her outside of the apartment the other night (going through the garbage of course) and I said, "Hey Milagra. I've got a mouse in my house."

Her response was not what I expected.


Keep in mind that this is a 70-year-old woman, who is about 4 feet tall, who essentially said "FUCK THAT NOIZE" when I told her about the mouse.

So I'm trying to come up with ways to keep the mouse (mice?) at bay.

Advice I've gotten:

My boss:
Steel wool in all of the holes
My father:
Stop being such a
drama queen
Mint oil

My landlord:
Deal with it yourself and stop calling us

My father (again): Name it and pretend your life is a Disney musical
Glue traps

So now I'm obsessed (ala Nathan Lane in Mousehunt). I've put out bait and traps. I've scoured my apartment for every hole or crack and stuffed in steel wool (my baseboards currently look like they're growing hair). I've doused the place in mint oil. I've taken to sitting on the couch in silence, listening for the pitter patter of rodent feet (or, as they say in The Night Before Christmas, "stirring").

One thing I will refuse to do, however, is put out glue traps. Imagine: you're walking along, and all of a sudden, you're stuck. Like, really stuck. You can't get unstuck. But you're not dead. And the glue's not gonna kill you. So you'll just sit there and die of starvation. Now, I'm not a hippie animal rights douchebag, but that is pretty fucking cruel. Snap their necks is what I say! I've always been very deliberate.

All I want to do is eat dinner, have a vodka tonic, and watch Designing Women in peace (Season 2 on Netflix, bitchez). Is that so much to ask?

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Sunday, October 04, 2009

Adventures in Mouse Killing

The fall is what my father refers to as "mouse season," which means that it's getting cold, and mice are trying to find nice, warm homes.
I can understand this. But until the mouse I have in my apartment starts shelling over money for rent, he ain't welcome.

Here's what happened:

Last weekend, I was doing my normal routine of laying in bed with the shades drawn, air conditioner up, watching Dexter on Netflix Instant View. I got up to get a drink in the kitchen, and I saw my little friend scamper across the kitchen floor and under the baseboard.

I called the landlord, and they said that they would come to close up all of the holes.

Not to be a nerd, but COME ON. Mice don't have exoskeletons! They can squeeze into the smallest crack. It's not like I'm living in a goddamned Tom & Jerry cartoon where there's a big oval in the wall that the mouse goes in and out of.

Anyway, they closed up a few areas, and I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the apartment. So I'm hanging out on my couch, watching TV, and I hear a commotion in the kitchen. The mouse is running across the counter, presumably because his hole was closed up and he's trapped.

Wonderful. I put out poison. I don't see him for a few days, so I assume he's dead from the poison.

I wake up in the middle of the night on Saturday night and go into the bathroom to pee.

Oh hey, what's up Mouse! Hanging out in the garbage can, chewing on Clorox wipes, huh? Sounds like an awesome Saturday night.

The mouse hides from me, behind the toilet. Admittedly, he is cute. Cute, but still vermin. Also, I don't really love what seeing one mouse portends (read: 10 MILLION MORE MICE). It shoves itself into a tiny space in between the bathroom cabinet and the bathtub (evidence of the exoskeleton business I was referring to earlier).

I need an exterminator.

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