Prd&Prjd

Most of you know, I am stoutly anti-Twitter.  (No offense, I like you, but I don't care that you're watching Glee, then going to bed early and don't care to read about it.)  But I thought I might turn this tool-of-nonsense into something productive and useful (and a fun experiment).  Over the next goodness-only-knows-how-long, I will be using Twitter to "tweet" Jane Austen's PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.  Yep, the whole thing, 140 characters or less at a time.  But that's the rub.  Since it's going to take for-flipping-ever, I'm abbreviating it into teeny, tiny words.

I wonder, will people like to read a marvelous novel this way?  I guess I'll find out.  Join up and follow along at http://twitter.com/twitature101, and for Pete's sake, don't start tweeting about doing laundry.  Honestly.
Sprd th wrd!

Project Runway Finale Recipe Collection

I am having a friend over tomorrow night to watch the Project Runway season finale. I was thinking of cooking in a TV dinner style, using aluminum trays and everything. But the truth is, I can't get past the cocktail course. Recipe below:

THE KENLEY COOLER
Pick your fanciest glass

Cut up pineapples, grapes, oranges, strawberries and whatever else makes a nice garnish, fit these all over the glass, but save room for a giant flower

Fill the glass to the top with Campari

Et voila! It looks pretty and interesting, but it's really just bitter.

Hold your nose and declare "Life is so hard!" Bottoms up, sister.


What recipe ideas do you have? I'm thinking of the Jerell salad: just throw it all in there.

Your Nomenclature is Showing

So, last Christmas, I told Joe I'd sign him up for a cooking class at the Institute of Culinary Education, which I finally did last week. I got a confirmation email from a woman with what has to be the most unfortunate name I have ever heard: Mini Ho. MINI HO! I wish I actually knew her so that the name isn't second hand. She'd replace, or at least tie with the other most unfortunate name I had heard up until yesterday: Herr Harry Furr (husband of my high school German teacher). I can understand a couple with the last name of Ho deciding that their adorable daughter should be named Mini, which is a good American name with the bonus of resembling an Asian name. They probably didn't have any sort of insight into hip-hop culture, adopters of Eddie Murphy's comedy bit "I Wanna Be a Ho." Or, if Ms. Ho is old enough, they may have named her before that sketch even aired. But Mr. Furr's parents were American, and just didn't think about the repercussions of naming their son Harold. Harry Furr. Sigh.

I know there are legends of people named Candice Kane and Lemonjello, but I haven't met them. When I do, I will let you know.

Wait, Todd, don't you go to school with someone named Michael Hunt?

Boo-ray for Ikea Brooklyn!

How long does it take to get to the new Ikea in Brooklyn by water taxi? About 4 hours from downtown Manhattan. Here are directions:

Start by leaving your office at 12:30 without double checking the directions you're sure you memorized 4 days earlier. Stop by Subway for some fast nourishment, then get on the wrong train going downtown. Transfer to what you are sure is the right train, and get off at what you are sure is the wrong stop but what is actually the right stop. Ask the booth agent where the water taxi to Ikea is, then ignore his instructions, waving him off as a silly booth agent who didn't sound too sure.

Start off in the wrong direction on foot, but be sure that you are going the right way, since it is opposite to what the man told you. Call you harried husband, but only if your phone is thisclose to out of batteries. It's very important that your phone runs out of battery just as he says, "Oh, here we go." Walk up to a map, justify what you think you remember, and continue in the wrong direction.

Find what must be the last remaining phone booth in Manhattan and fish around for a quarter. Apply the quarter. When it tells you "For 911 only" hang up and grab the phone next to it. Laugh with a side of fear at your own silliness when the phone shocks you because you didn't look at the receiver, which is missing the top and has exposed wiring sticking wildly out. Proceed all the way to the West Side Highway, on the footbridge over the WTC site which is swarming with tourists. Tsk and shake your head at the exploitation of such a disaster and continue along your way. Wonder a little if maybe you are going the wrong way.

Go inside a giant building, and consider asking the information man directions. Pooh-pooh this idea and continue along your path. See the sign for the 2/3 train, which is the one thing you know is right, and feel confident. Walk up the river park to the water taxi (this is about 12 blocks, but it looks much closer) and go in where you see the water taxi departing. Check the map before you talk to the ticket agent, and discover that you are, indeed, on the wrong side of the island. Feel free to curse under your breath.

Make your way back out, looking for a taxi. You will find one once you are halfway back across the island. It helps if you harrass the driver a little, telling him "The water taxi is on the WEST side! No, no, I mean the EAST side." Be sure to tip him well when he drops you off exactly in front of the water taxi, 3 blocks from where you asked the subway booth agent where to go.

Since you are now a little uncertain, find a sign that says "IKEA" and then find a free bench and sit down for a spell. Put your iPod on as loud as you can without disturbing those around you. Dig into a good book, and don't look up.

After 30 minutes or so, ask the big guy guarding the entrance this question: "Do I have to be in line?" and then swear again when he says yes. Ask what time the next boat goes, and when he says "in 20 minutes, but the back of the line won't make that one." Try to bat your eyelashes, even though you are a little haggard by now. Do not be mad when he tells you he made an announcement to the other people on the bench, but you didn't hear him because Love and Rockets was overtaking his booming voice. It's not his fault. Make your way to the back of the line. Do not think of all the people you COULD have been in front of.

Walk briskly and look hopeful as the line moves forward. Do not curse anymore when the line stops and you get stuck in between benches. Wait patiently for 40 more minutes, board the taxi, enjoy the view, walk 3/4 of a mile, and enter Ikea. Forget what you came for.

All's well that ends well: While wrapping my purchases in twine, I met two darling Starbucks employees who both happened to live in my 'hood. We shared a taxi home for $12 each. They had almost as bad a time as I did, plus I heard the best/worst drink ever: 2 shots of decaf, 1/2 shot of regular with steamed skim milk and whole milk foam. If you're out there, crazy mix 'n' match lady, take heed. The cute Starbucks girls hate you.

But not as much as I hate going to Brooklyn.

Lovely Spam, It's Wonderful Spam!

My junk mail box (junkmail box? junk mailbox?) has been filled with all kinds of wonderful headlines lately, very creative and pop-culture believable. This is not your standard vulgarity or Rolex (authentic!) vendors. These make me think the job market is worse than I thought and my fellow college grads had to really take some poor positions to make ends meet. Below is a list of my favorite subject lines (I mean, they've really gotten creative in ways to get me to click on things, no? And btw, these are all copied and pasted, so the errors are accurate):

Paris Hilton: The Day I Found Out Gary Glitter Is My Dad

A building that melts
subhead: Lion attacks keepers, shot

Britney Spears Offers to Sell Next Child to Jennifer Aniston

Britney mind control claims: manager says K-Fed responsibl

Man survives on bugs while lost
Subhead: Scrabulous determines to fight Hasbro over copyright of Scrabble to the end

Oprah raises money for Obama fundraiser
Subhead: 6-year-old skips school to visit strip club

And my favorite:
Poker winner dies of heart attack
Subhead: China withdraws support for McCain after hearing of the meeting between the Republican and the Dalai Lama

And finally, to abuse a cliche, last but not least!
Paris Hilton Gives Birth To Twins...Aliens!
Pah!

SOCKS!

An ode to socks:

Oh, socks, what a strange and wonderful creature.

You are so much more than hosiery.  You are a sleeve for the feet, a pocket for the toes.  You are knitted, darned, and most often, missing.  You are one of a pair, like a twin:  if one goes missing, the other is distraught.  So often, people are searching for you, like an umbrella or a seat on the rush hour subway.  You are kin with can openers and drillbits, "where is that danged xyz?"  You keep feets warm, you collect candy for us at Christmas.  And yet, everyone-be they sandal wearers, sneaker-showers, maryjane sporters-take you for granted.  You marvelous preventer of blisters, absorber or smells, protector of pedicures, I salute you, and your silly name.

Everyone, raise you glasses for SOCKS!

Now With Real Orange Flavoring

There is a special summer subway surprise at the uptown 137th Street 1 train stop.  Something wonderful, aside from merely emerging from the ancient underground.  Lingering within the grime and odeur of the tunnel there is a very slight orange scent.  As you approach the turnstiles, it becomes a little stronger.  As you head up the stairs, it becomes a little stronger yet.  And when you finally emerge completely onto the madness of upper Broadway, you become completely engulfed in the zestiness of orange peel scent.  At the top of the stairs, there is a man (next to the lady who sells the fantastic tamales for only $1) who uses one of those old fashioned peelers--where you put the to-be-peeled object in the middle of a horizontal rod and then turn a crank and the peel comes off in curls-- to take the orange part off of oranges.  He then carefully cuts them in half and bags up about 4 of them.  He throws away all the zest from what I can tell, and people buy the sort-of-peeled oranges and suck the juice out of them.  I see all these stripy-peeled orange halves all over the streets up here.  Why do they do this?  I really would like an answer if anyone knows it.  I just cannot understand the reason to take the orange part off, unless the man is just trying to make the subway smell better, in which case, I applaud his efforts.  He's working against 100 years of ew.

testing

Just a test post...do emailed posts come up in Hindi too?