Provo-ing. Everyone Should Try It.

Lyla

2011-08-28T21:50:00.009-04:00

I can happily report that Lyla Marie Howick joined our family a few weeks ago. I could spend a lot of time talking about how excited we are about our new daughter, how sweet and wonderful she is, how fun it is to just sit and stare at her, how I can't get enough of all the little changes she undergoes every day, etc. etc. etc., but, let's be honest, everyone knows that we love our kid, so, instead I will make an important update to this blog post: my fast food cravings (which I 100% blame on Brandon's genes invading my body) are officially gone. I no longer feel that eating a Wendy's Junior Bacon Cheeseburger equals pure happiness. Brandon is super disappointed. But, he's pretty excited about Lyla, so I think he will survive.

My New Life

2011-07-18T19:31:00.002-04:00

I recognize that my blog has slowly groaned to a sad, sad stop... but, excellent news, MATERNITY LEAVE STARTS TOMORROW. So, pretty much, I'm going to have a lot of time on my hands (until the baby comes, which could be any day, or could not be for a few more weeks). But anyway, my schedule is about to go from working all the time and doing nothing else to... sitting in front of my window air conditioning unit eating ice cream. In between scoops, I'm guessing I'll have more time to blog. Get excited. Who doesn't want to hear the latest thoughts of an 8.5 months pregnant woman.

Butter Lane

2011-04-23T13:43:00.003-04:00

Well, eating for two has created some nice opportunities to expand my gastronomic horizons, which works out great until I have to face the scale at each doctor's appointment. I just block out those 2 minutes of my life every 4 weeks.

The latest find, an East Village bakery called Butter Lane.

I know people are claiming they are over the cupcake craze, and I get that. But, we tried this place last night (thanks to a steal of a deal on Groupon) and we were not disappointed. In fact, I might even go so far as to say Butter Lane's vanilla vanilla cupcake is better than Magnolia's. WHAT?? I know. It is that good.

Their schtick is they make 3 kinds of cupcakes a day (we had our choice of vanilla cake, chocolate cake, or banana cake) and then they have about 20 different frostings. When you order, you tell them the type of cake and the type of frosting, and they frost each cupcake right there in front of you. They have French buttercream as well as normal buttercream frostings, and their French buttercream is great for people who don't normally love frosting (I do love frosting, so I will take either, but that's just me). Definitely worth a visit--I recommend the banana cupcake with either cream cheese frosting or hazelnut chocolate frosting. Or the vanilla cupcake with French buttercream frosting.

My Role In Tom Brady's New Hairstyle

2011-03-13T22:16:00.007-04:00

Things that I have learned so far about being pregnant:

1. Hormones are apparently a real thing. I have turned semi-crazy (and I am hoping this baby comes before I start getting compared to Charlie Sheen). Case in point:

a. Brandon once said, "I like your baby bump." I ended up crying and telling him, "I need some space." Lucky husband.

b. I recently started watching LOST Season 1 (I know I'm seven years behind) and almost had a breakdown when "the others" tried to steal the pregnant lady's baby. I told Brandon I would not continue watching unless he assured me the baby escaped unscathed.

c. I regularly tear up when I walk by the Baby Gap (and it is right across the street from our house).

2. I don't eat anything that gets compared to the size of my fetus in baby books (you know... congrats, you are nine weeks pregnant, your baby is now the size of an olive! ... or, you are 12 weeks pregnant, your baby is now the size of a peach!, etc.)--goodbye fruits and vegetables, hello pizza by the slice.

3. I crave fast food like I used to crave restaurants with Michelin stars. I find myself literally dreaming of extra value meals of all varieties. Fine dining now means a $0.79 beef soft taco from Taco Bell with a mild packet of Taco Bell sauce. Apparently Brandon's seed is strong enough to infect me with his eating habits. Awesome.

4. Jenny McCarthy's career pinnacle was not her brilliant hosting job of MTV's Singled Out, it is, in fact, her authorship of baby books. If all MTV stars put their talents to such good use, the future of New Jersey's children looks bright.

5. I hate Gisele Bundchen-Brady because she said this: "I did kung fu up until two weeks before [my son] was born, and yoga three days a week. I think a lot of people get pregnant and decide they can turn into garbage disposals. I was mindful about what I ate, and I gained only 30 pounds." I have started mentally sending her bad vibes and I think it is starting to work--note, Tom Brady's recent decision to grow a ponytail. (sidenote, I love the ponytail. Let's lump that in as part of my pregnancy craziness.)

News

2011-02-07T22:56:00.002-05:00

Well.... I'm knocked up. In case anyone is wondering, it is Brandon's. He tried to claim it doesn't belong to him, but I am 95% sure it does.

My Love Affair with DVR

2010-12-05T21:12:00.005-05:00

**Update, The Hasselhoffs is the worst reality show ever. The Worst. Ha ha ha ha. It was canceled after like 2 episodes.

Our DVR broke (for about the sixth time this year). Which is kind of life altering. Feel free to judge, but in truth, after a long day of mentally challenging work at the office, I like coming home to Jersey Shore. And the Top Chef All-Stars. And pre-season football. Yes, there is something called pre-season football. It is basically grown men-millionaires, scrimmaging. Insert eye-roll. Insert a second eye-roll. PS I do not like coming home to tivo-ed sports games because there are on the tv live at all points of the day already: currently, college football, NFL football, soccer, tennis somewhere in the warm southern hemisphere, college basketball and NBA basketball are all being featured on ESPN. How do I know this? Because I have watched games from all of these sports in the last 3 days. That is not an exaggeration. And also, that is not an aberration from my normal life. Jealous?

Anyway, without DVR, I can't watch TV and if you want to know the truth, the honest source of my concern stems from the fact that THE HALLSELHOFFs premieres tonight. Sure, I have not seen an episode. But I have seen the commercial with the baby running in slow motion on the beach to the Baywatch soundtrack with a massive bush of chest hair, which ends with this phrase: "some people were born awesome." So even though the show about the Hoff the single dad raising his two teenage daughters hasn't aired yet, and even though nothing about the Hoff himself is particularly compelling/noteworthy/impressive, I am already committed enough that I have DVR -ed the entire season. There are just some reality TV shows that you know won't fail. Which is why I am seriously considering flipping Time Warner a giant bird and switching to Verizon FIOS tonight.

This Just In

2010-11-18T00:54:00.008-05:00

**Update--it is a shame that Ryan and Sco Jo are officially over. It turns out, our shared dinner with them was one of their last rendezvous (whoa, what is the plural of "rendezvous")--AND they had already separated, which is WEIRD because they walked out HOLDING HANDS. Was that solely for the cameras (there were none) or did Brandon and I witness Ryan's last, fleeting chance at winning back his girl--apparently he crashed and burned. Oh well, at least he has Green Lantern as a fall back. Kate Hudson will be all over him once that movie becomes a blockbuster.**

So, remember how this guy and I had dinner together on my birthday? (I may or may not be using the term "together" loosely, but still, it was awesome).

Ha ha ha this picture is hilarious, in part because of the chest hair. Anyway, it turns out, according to People magazine, The Sexiest Man Alive (2010) and I have the same birthday. In other words, The Sexiest Man Alive (2010) and I partied the exact same way on our birthdays. I may or may not be using the word "partied" loosely, but still, um, awesome, right?

My New BFFs Ryan and Scarlett

2010-10-24T22:00:00.017-04:00

For my birthday we tried a new restaurant which is a block away from our apartment. We've been watching them construct The Lincoln for about a year--as it is nestled in the Lincoln Center, everything about the restaurant is, not surprisingly, artistic--the building is slanted, all glass, and the top is astro-turf that has already become a sunbathing hotspot. Random, but cool.

The restaurant serves Italian cuisine and is delicious. The chef used to work at Per Se and is a protege of Thomas Keller, so we expected a tasty and beautiful presentation and we weren't disappointed (also, I expected to only understand about half of what was listed on the menu--again, I was not disappointed. Let's just say we may or may not have discretely used our i-phones to google a number of the menu descriptions).

Anyway, I can't pronounce most of what I ate but it was all SO good. There were some things that were especially awesome. 1) They had TWO bread courses. They first brought us some homemade crackers and breadsticks that had been treated with all kinds of weird herbs. It all tasted good, and I was satisfied. Then, 10 minutes later, a guy came out to tell us about our second bread course, which consisted of a variety of more traditional breads, served with some sort of imported olive oil and "Vermont butter". Since I automatically think anything from Vermont tastes better (see below), I was impressed. I will probably now judge all restaurants that don't have a second bread course. 2) After our two bread courses, an amuse-bouche (fried chickpea with eggplant and garlic puree), a pasta appetizer (a sort of sweet-ish pasta (Caramelle?) filled with pumpkin and topped with hazelnuts and broccoli rabe), our entrees (chicken and veal chop with all kinds of wacky but awesomely-combined components), and our dessert...... they brought us a tray of tiny cookies. The tray probably has a more proper name, but I think tiny cookies pretty much sums it up. It was like I had arrived at my perfect restaurant.

Oh yeah, and one other thing... halfway through our appetizer, this guy walked right by me on his way to the restroom.

Coincidentally, this is exactly what he was wearing. Since he is married to her:

we thought there was a good chance she was at the restaurant too. We each tried to subtly walk by their table, but they were tucked in a far back corner and there was no way to paparazzi them. So, we waited them out. Sure enough, just as our dessert arrived, they emerged (holding hands! ahhh so cute!) with four friends. Other than us and a couple waiters, no one even noticed them and they stood in the entryway for about 3 minutes saying goodbye to their friends before leaving out the back (we left the same way a half hour later because we also wanted to make a hip exit). Both Ryan and Scarlett were tinier than I would have expected. Ryan was pretty short. Scarlett was super short. But adorable. She has short short blonde hair which was tucked inside a very cute hat.

We finished our dessert as we (ok I) basked in our celebrity citing. I snagged a pic (wish I could have gotten a pic of the Hollywood power couple but it was pretty dark). The actual title of the dessert is this: Monte Bianco--Buttermilk Gelato, Chesnut Sorbetto, Tortino de Ciccolato, Panna Montata Alla Grappa e Cioccolato. Yeah, I didn't understand it either. Here is my description: a super fancy chocolate-dipped ice-cream cone. The big dome is chesnut ice-cream inside buttermilk gelato coated with a milk chocolate shell, sitting on a piece of shortbread. I have no idea what the thing on the left was, but it tasted really good. The white stuff is whipped cream with some spice added to it, and then there was some nougaty stuff on the back of the plate. Combining a little bit of each onto the fork to create one big bite = incredible.

All in all, a perfect birthday night.

Unrelated, a couple weeks ago we took a weekend trip to Vermont to see the fall foliage. I have been wanting to see the leaves change in Vermont for like 10 years and it was as beautiful as I had hoped. We stayed in an absolutely lovely, recently-renovated old mansion called the Snapdragon Inn, which is owned by some friends of mine and their extended family. I highly recommend it to anyone planning a trip to Vermont. Between the mountains covered in autumn colors, the picturesque farms and the rustic charm of the small cities along the highways, I could not get enough of all things Vermont.

Go-to Girl

2010-08-30T19:55:00.007-04:00

The Partner I work for hosted his small team of Associates at the Westchester Country Club last Friday. There are perks to working for Biglaw. We spent the afternoon at the Beach Club experiencing how the other half enjoys the ocean (apparently public beaches are for chumps. Who knew). As seven of us lounged on the sand, this exact conversation happened: Fellow Associate: "What is the latest with the whole Spencer Heidi thing?" Partner: "I don't know, we better ask Marie." In an environment where people pride themselves on all things intellectual, it is good to know I have developed a reputation as the resident TMZ expert. You are welcome BYU, for my ambassadorship.

Lobsters & Mansions

2010-08-26T22:05:00.005-04:00

Maine

Rhode Island

My family visited NYC a couple months ago and we took a trip to Maine. Maine is the best. I highly recommend it to everyone. We ate a lot of lobster and also a lot of lobster rolls. Since returning to NYC, any time I see the word "lobster roll" in a restaurant window, I instinctively want to stop. Yesterday, we tried a place we just discovered called Luke's Lobster. The owner's dad is a lobsterman in Maine and so the owner uses only Maine lobsters in his rolls. I was skeptical, but the roll was as good as the ones we ate in Maine and whatever spices he used were PERFECT. Also, the blueberry ice cream was divine (after visiting Maine I am also a sucker for blueberries--that is how great the trip was).

In other updates, we celebrated our first anniversary. Crazy that it's already been a year. Awesome year, can't wait for year 2. We took a weekend trip to the coast of Rhode Island and it was beautiful. We stayed in a town famous for its 150-year-old mansions. The mansions sit on a cliff overlooking the ocean and so you can walk along a 10-mile path (reminiscent of the Cinque Terre, if anyone has been there) and on your left, about 50 feet below, you see the ocean breaking against the rocks, and on your right, you see these towering, stately mansions that were used as summer homes by the 19th centery elite. We also ate delicious seafood and chowder and explored the coast. Excellent way to commemorate.

Howick Law

2010-08-05T08:04:00.004-04:00

Brandon Howick and Howick Law are all over the news in New York City today.

The story is in the New York Daily News and the New York Post.

www.howicklaw.com

Things I Am Not

2010-07-30T18:24:00.001-04:00

Tan. I have never been so pale in my entire life. Having a full-time job in a city with no place to lay out and prohibitively expensive tanning beds makes for a bad summer look.

Anticipation

2010-06-14T23:58:00.003-04:00

My family is coming to visit in less than two weeks. I am so excited, I can't even focus on The Bachelorette. And there are guys crying on the screen. Guys. That is true anticipation.

Um, help

2010-05-17T00:29:00.005-04:00

So I thought it would be nice to make my blog slightly more aesthetically pleasing, but the only decoration I could figure out how to add was a picture at the top. So then I gave up trying to figure it out and just added one. And it ended up billboard-sized. And I don't know how to make it smaller. Even though it is fun to stare at a photo of myself so large I can see the one missed hair to my otherwise nicely-plucked eyebrows, I would prefer a smaller pictorial debut. Can anyone tell me how to solve my problem? Thank you very much.

I Wish I Had A Waffle Right Now

2010-05-16T21:25:00.009-04:00

If you're like me, you are automatically drawn to any food that sounds cutesy, whimsical, and/or sophisticated, fancy, and creative. If you are like my husband, you like street food, that is cheap. In the spirit of marriage-revolutionizers, holding its own among stalwarts like cars with separate his & her (aka driver-side and passenger-side) climate control, I introduce to you Wafels & Dinges. Belgian waffles taste delicious. Imagine the next step. A waffle, made by a Belgian, concocted with dough, instead of batter-- a waffle that is gooey, chewy, sweet, and soft. It exists. In Manhattan. In a bright yellow traveling truck. A truck that roves around the city, never in the same place 2 days in a row. Don't worry though, you can find this magic truck anytime you like, by visiting its website. In his former life, this genius of a Belgian worked as a computer programmer--then he decided it was depressing to go to an office everyday for the rest of his life, and decided as a Belgian, he could make waffles with the best of 'em, so he painted a giant truck yellow, and the rest is history. Wafels and Dinges serves 2 kinds of waffles. Normal belgian waffles and liege waffles. The liege waffle's doughy decadence is something everyone should experience. Mine was topped with vanilla ice cream and Belgian chocolate sauce. Brandon, never a wuss, ordered the "WMD" otherwise known as "Waffle of Mass Deliciousness", which means you can get as many toppings as you want. His involved a cocktail of dulce de leche, nutella, spekuloos spread (you're going to have to check out the waffle website to figure out that one), bananas, and whipped cream. We both almost threw up. But then I wanted another one like an hour later. Locals and visitors alike, especially those of you who are married and looking for a lovely culinary compromise: put this place on your list.

French Fries and Food Network

2010-03-13T18:41:00.006-05:00

So I was crushed for like 5 straight weeks at work, February is now a blur, and the blog, well... you understand. Yup, that is my life. Anyway, back to french fries. Two places to put on your radar.

1. Pommes Frites. It is a tiny little shop crunched into the East Village. There are a few tables inside, but mostly, it is a take-away spot. You stand in line outside and look at the menu scrawled on a chalkboard, (fact: if you are trying to eat in NYC and there is not some sort of line, it is probably not that good--don't worry, the lines go fast, New Yorkers are very impatient) order through a window, then squeeze inside to watch the magic (i.e. frying) happen.

The shop is styled after the french-fry stands in Belgium (no offense to Belgium, but those frite stands may be the best thing that country has going for it--that, and Waterloo). Anyway, at the stands in Belgium, they fry big old thick french fries right in front of you, then funnel them into a paper cone. Then, the best part--every stand has dozens of crazy sauces that are yours for the taking. Ketchup is for chumps. In true Belgian fashion, Pommes Frites (by the way--that is french for "french fries"... surprised you didn't know that...) offers a wild array of sauces, including Pomegranate Teriyaki Mango and Wasabi Mayo. Everytime we go there, I am surprised at how addictive the fries are. Every person we have taken there has raved.

2. Isabella's. Isabella's is a lovely upper-west-side establishment that will make multiple appearances in this blog because, despite eating my way through this city, it is still my favorite restaurant in New York. There are so many dishes that are just so groan-worthy. Today, we will discuss their sweet-potato fries. You can only get them at lunch. I have requested them for dinner, and they have complied, but they are not on the dinner menu. Isabella's has very comfortable patio dining, so I suggest a late lunch on a meandering afternoon. I really love sweet potato fries, but they are trickier to make well than one may think. In other words, it is easy to mess them up. Isabella's most definitely does not mess them up. They are crispy, and thick enough to be crunch-worthy without being too thick (when sweet potato fries get too thick, they are too much sweet potato, not enough oil.. just saying). Anyway, what makes these fries blog-worthy, however, is the incredible, delectable accompanying brown-sugar dipping sauce. I could eat it plain. Sometimes when there is leftover sauce, I do. But anyway, the combo of fry and sauce makes for, get ready for it, THE BEST FRY IN THE WORLD. Over. True story. I won't keep talking about Isabella's, but it is so fabulous. Think of every type of food girls like (sorry to generalize, but let's be honest--it is true, we have different eating habits than men), and you will find it somewhere on the Isabella's menu. It will be some sort of creative dish (but not weird---i.e., it will still sound like something you would want to eat), it will be presented with the utmost beauty, and it will taste so good, that even if you are on a first date and so you plan on leaving a reasonable portion of your meal on your plate so your date thinks you are skinny and wonderful, you will eat the entire dish and then fight the urge to lick the plate (by the way, guys could care less whether or not you finish your meal, but let's just say I may or may not have dropped a few in the first few [eight] months of dating my husband because my portions were suddenly halved).

To end, some home-grown meals. Lately we have been watching the food network, because it is awesome. Our favorite show is called Throwdown with Bobby Flay. Bobby finds a restaurant owner famous for a certain dish, then challenges him/her to a Throwdown. The chef cooks his/her signature dish, and Bobby comes up with his own recipe to challenge. Then people vote. About 80% of the restuarants seem to be in NYC (I looooove this city) and so we have been inspired in a couple ways. 1. we go to the restaurants and try the dishes featured on Throwdown. So far we have not been disappointed. 2. we create our own versions of the dishes. Brandon started us down this path when he watched a Throwdown about lobster club sandwiches (against a restaurant in Maine). Never heard of a lobster club? Neither had we. But it looked awesome. Brandon decided to make his own lobster club. Chinatown has delicious live lobsters, sold for cheaper than anywhere else in Manhattan. Don't worry, they are just as clean as the lobsters in the rest of the city. Just less expensive. We have enjoyed more than one lobster dinner thanks to the Chinatown fish markets. There are some perks to that place. Only a few, but there are. Anyway, Brandon schlepped down to Chinatown one Saturday morning and bought 2 giant, squirming lobsters.

The end result involved homemade bread from the farmer's market across the street from our house, an aoli-butter sauce to coat the lobster, bacon, avocado, tomato, and New Zealand cheddar cheese. It was the richest sandwich I have ever eaten. Also, probably the most delicious. Of course, it looks kind of sick in pictures, but trust me, in person, it was unbelievable.

Round two was Sloppy Joes. This time, it was my idea. I have never made or craved sloppy joes before, but then we watched a Throwdown and I was sold. Bobby Flay put his sloppy joe open-faced, on a giant hunk of sourdough bread toasted with garlic butter. So, we did the same. We went to the Food Emporium [hint, if you shop at Food Emporium, always buy the bread from Top Cat Bakery--it is the best] around the corner and got a big loaf of sourdough, then loaded up on vegetables from the produce-cart-guy about a half a block from our apt. I made my mom's homemade bbq sauce, then we threw in ground beef, red onions, yellow onions, red peppers, green chilis, brown sugar, honey, ketchup, water, Worcestershire sauce, balsamic vinegar, paprika, chili powder, roasted garlic, salt, onion powder, pepper, and a bunch of fresh cilantro... and.... voila. DELICIOUS. Who knew sloppy joes could taste so so good. Again, I wish the picture did it justice.

And so ends Round 2 of the foodie life in NYC....

Donuts and Perogies

2010-01-24T20:28:00.009-05:00

Ok guys, I know it has been forever. My bad. I have been busy watching Jersey Shore. That is not a joke.

So I was thinking that since I now live in Manhattan, I should start writing about all the great stuff my friends (and by "friends" I mean Brandon) and I discover when we're exploring the city. I feel like a lot of people who read this blog will at some point visit NYC, and we really have found some off-the-beaten-path gems. But these gems aren't really that off-the-beaten-path, because the entire island is like 6 miles long and 2 miles wide, so pretty much, it is easy to get anywhere; basically, these are the types of places that make New York City a crazy fun place to visit, but they aren't tourist-traps.

Anyway, I'm not going to rank stuff because that is impossible, but I promise I will only write about things that are truly visit-worthy. And by things I mainly mean food establishments--why deny my true interests? As my cousin-in-law so aptly said, "I like that you have no shame."

So in the spirit of "no shame" I would like to first talk about a donut. Not just any donut. Literally, the best donut in America. The Doughnut Plant (http://www.doughnutplant.com/) is a tiny little shop in the lower east side, on Grand Street just east of Chinatown, almost to the river, housed across the street from some housing projects. The donut that changed my life is called the "Creme Brulee." It is about 1/4 of the size of a normal donut, and costs $3. But it is not hype. I would pay $6. It is that good. It is a round cream-filled donut. The creme is a decadent carmel-custard. And they carmelize the top of the donut, so it really does look and taste like creme brulee. I actually like the donut better than I like real creme brulee. Apparently the guy who owns it is a perfectionist and it took him years to develop the perfect caramel-cream filling. It worked. The caramel-custard makes all other donut fillings seem like cheap cool-whip imitations. Like the grossest kind of cool-whip. Fat free cool-whip. Generic brand. Sick. I may never eat a cream-filled donut from any other donut place again. The story is pretty cool-- the owner started baking donuts as a side-job, making deliveries on his bike. His grandpa had owned a donut shop, so he had some great recipes, which he then expanded. Eventually, his donuts became so popular, he opened his own store. Now, he only makes about 10 kinds of donuts, but does each one incredibly well. His perfectionism feeds (ha ha pardon the pun) into his whole shop-- he started by only selling yeast donuts, and he worked on his cake-donut recipe for 5 years before he felt like it was good enough to sell. Anyway, the shop is tiny and the winding line always stretches out the door, and the bakery part of the shop adjoins to where they sell the donuts, and as you wait in line you can watch the owner and his workers baking away, and you see and smell rows and rows of donuts and it makes it difficult to only order 1 (or in my case 2) donuts at a time. The shop only cooks a certain amount of donuts each day, and closes when the last donut is sold. They always sell-out. I am in love. I am sorry if you visited us before we discovered this place. It is worth coming back. The Doughnut Plant has gotten play on Regis and Kelly, Ugly Betty, Good Morning America, Martha Stewart, etc, which makes it a little less charming of a discovery, but oh well, I guess everyone should know about this place.

I did not take this picture--to be honest, there is little chance I would have the willpower to step away from the donut halfway through to snap a photo.

Unrelated: I teach the 8/9 year old primary class at church, and I had the kids draw their depiction of the Garden of Eden on the chalkboard, and this adorable little 8-year-old included a "donut plant" (I don't think she knows about the actual Doughnut Plant, I think she just really likes donuts) in her drawing and it made me want to take her home with me.

We stumbled upon another great eatery, close-ish to the Donut Plant, called Veselka (http://www.veselka.com/). It's a Ukranian restaurant that's been in the East Village for over 50 years-- at 2nd Avenue and 9th-- and is pretty much the last holdout in what used to be a heavily eastern european area. I haven't had much exposure to eastern european food, so I was slightly skepical, but everything we tried was delicious. We have since been back and had very tasty meals the second time around, too. They specialize in perogies and blintzes, but also have great American-ish food too, including a very enticing brunch menu. So far everything we've ordered is awesome. Their perogies are legit. As are their eastern-european waitresses. When the 60-year-old waitress taking my order asked me if I wanted my perogies boiled or fried, and I said boiled, she very politely told me they are much better fried. When I politely responded that I had my heart set on boiled, she was pretty disgusted. We tried them both ways, and I actually liked them better boiled, but I think I am in the minority. Anyway, about a week after we found Veselka, the New York Times did a story on it.

For the record, we have a very cozy apt (read: small, but just big enough for visitors), so when this blog convinces you that you can't wait another moment to experience the awesomeness that is NYC, our Upper West Side abode is always open.

Next up, a french fry tour of the city...

Tough Decisions

2009-10-31T23:46:00.010-04:00

Guys, my blog is in trouble.

One, my domain name (is that what it's called? domain name?) is mariedavies.blogspot.com, but I am no longer Marie Davies, I am now Marie Davies Howick (legally, after much frustration, line-waiting, confusion, and yes, a publication in the Irish Echo, New York's very own shamrock-loving newspaper, circulation 15,833 [to legally change your name in New York you have to publish the name change in a newspaper and the Irish Echo was the cheapest. What. A. Joke.]). Anyway, back to the real problem, am I being disloyal to my husband to keep my blog in my maiden name? Or am I being a strong, independent, liberated woman of 2009? Yuck. Neither. But seriously guys what do I do?

Two, I no longer live in Provo. And "Manhattan-ing. Everyone Should Try It" sounds super pretentious. Because living in Manhattan is actually cool. With the current title of my blog, I am trying to be ironic, in case anyone missed that. But in light of the recent move, I am not sure how to proceed. As you can see, these issues are giving me a lot of angst.

Three, I never post in my blog anymore, because all I do is hang out with Brandon, which is awesome, but I don't think Brandon would like it if I posted stories about us all the time. I wouldn't like it either, because let's be honest, that just gets embarassing. But the thing is, after being around Brandon 24/7, I have realized he is significantly funnier than me, which deflates my motivation to blog because I feel like he would be a much more entertaining blogger. I know I just talked about how I would be cheesy and pathetic if I only talked about my husband but I just have to give you proof of how I am the less funny one of this relationship. Perfect example, writing Thank You cards for our wedding gifts. We agreed I would write the notes from my side, and Brandon would write the notes from his side. Mine were all sentimental and nice, which equalled boring and typical. Most of mine included, "We feel lucky to have received so much support and kindness during this exciting time of life." Sorry guys if you got a thank you card from me, that was in like every one. Brandon's notes were each different, and included gems like "Thank you for the Pottery Barn gift card. There is no limit to how much Marie can spend there, so it is much appreciated." "Thank you for your wedding gift. I am learning that neither New York, nor having a wife, is cheap, so it is much appreciated." "Thank you for the ice cream maker. Marie considers ice cream it's own food group, so I'm sure it will get a lot of use." "I appreciate your suggestion to get foot massages everyday in Asia. With your gift, I could have afforded 50 massages. Or probably another wife." Interestingly, many of them were at my expense. But the point was, they were ALL hilarious. I'm so annoyed to be the lame one in the relationship. Good thing I start my corporate-lawyer career on Monday. For sure I'll be hilarious after a few years of that job. I am doomed.

Anyway, here is a pic of our sweet new life in NYC. Our new apartment is above the Starbucks. For reference, we are at 67th and Columbus--next door to a Barnes and Noble, and Live with Regis and Kelly, one block away from Banana Republic and Pottery Barn, two blocks from Magnolia Bakery (unplanned, but incredible), oh and 2.5 blocks away from the temple. And one block from Central Park. True.

Life in SE Asia

2009-09-11T23:41:00.004-04:00

Still on the honeymoon. Still awesome. Still have 2 weeks left. Quick highlights so far:

1. When a little girl in Cambodia threatened me with a live tarantula... In Cambodia the kids beg a ton, which is really sad, and a lot of them have these little bags of dirty, sick-looking fruit, and they try to sell it to you. So our second day in Cambodia, we were on a bus on our way to Angkor Wat, and the bus stopped at a makeshift rest stop, and as soon as we got off the bus we were swarmed by about 20 kids and we said "no thanks, we just need to go to the bathroom" to their fruit and they said "ok maybe you come back and buy from me" "ok maybe you buy from me" "from me" etc., and we were like, "maybe, maybe, ok, maybe" just to be nice. So then we come back and this little girl was like here here you said you'd buy from me! And 20 other kids were saying the same thing. So we said "oh, no we're ok, we said maybe, we didn't say we'd buy from you, we aren't hungry." And this little girl was PISSED. So then I look to my left and I see these ladies with this HUGE pile of FRIED tarantulas, and I was so startled I was like, HOLY and kind of took a few steps backward. So then the pissed little girl said "they have live ones too" and then disappears and then I turn around and there is a bucket in my face, like the size of a big industrial paint bucket, FILLED with the biggest tarantulas I've ever seen, just crawling all over the place. And again I was crazy startled and said an even louder HOLY CRAP (or maybe something worse, I don't remember) and took like 8 steps backward, and as I was distracted by my fear she grabbed a tarantula and started fake throwing it at my face! And saying "you didn't buy from me." Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Don't worry, we felt really bad for all the little kids at the rest stop and bought their fruit and gave them tiny denominations of money, even to the crazy little girl. Actually, she probably deserved the most because she had so much fire in her.

2. When we hiked 7 hours to a remote mountain village in northern Laos... We spent the night in one of the Khmu tribal villager's huts, and our guide mentioned that the people set traps for rats and then eat them (there are chickens and pigs all over the village, but our guide said the people don't eat those animals--they sell them and that is the only way they make money--so to eat protein, they hunt, and catch rats) (don't worry, as proof, there was a dead rat hanging from the ceiling, drying directly over where our guide was cooking our dinner. Mmmmmm). So after first feeling horrible that these people had to eat rats to live, I then started doing the math in my head, and realized, hmmm, if they catch rats in their huts, that means there are rats, in these huts. At the point of this realization, I wildly turned to Brandon, and in a slightly terrified voice said, "so, if they are catching rats where we are sleeping..." So Brandon laughs at me and says, "rats aren't going to bite us while we sleep," and he turns to our guide, and asks, jokingly, "visitors don't ever gets bit by rats here, right? my wife is worried." And the guide responds, "not usually, but yes sometimes. It has happened But I mean very very rarely..."

3. When I woke up the whole Khmu village in the middle of the night... In the same mountain village I had to use the "ladies room" like crazy at 3 am, so I stumbled through the dark, stepping over the family sleeping 6 inches below us on sleeping bags, I find the door, walk outside, hoping a Khmu tribal person doesn't shoot me in the head as I stand by the side of the road, I go back in as quietly as possible, but, somehow, in the process, I wake up the roosters in our hut, who apparently thought it was daytime and started crowing, waking up every other rooster and some pigs, in the village, and thereby waking up every single person in the village. Ha ha ha ha. yeah, I felt pretty bad.

4. When we finally arrived at the beach (2 days ago) and started to feel like we're on a more normal honeymoon.... We are in vietnam and the beaches are incredible! The resorts are p-o-s-h but very affordable, because it's the low season and because we're in the middle of Vietnam. The town is dead, about 20 people on a 2 mile stretch of beach. We have the ocean to ourselves! It is the rainy season, but so far, it has rained once, for 5 minutes, other than that, it's been blue blue skies! We'll be island-hopping around Vietnam and Cambodia for the next bit, scuba diving, hopefully learning how to kite-surf, getting crazy cheap but excellent massages, and eating delicious sea food straight from the ocean. No complaints!

Sorry no pictures... it is a pain to upload here.

Part of me never wants to come home!

Did someone say Bar? Candy Bar? Ice Cream Bar?

2009-07-09T22:36:00.018-04:00

I want to eat like 17 times a day, out of pure boredom, because I sit home ALL DAY, every day, doing the same thing over and over again, for weeks and weeks and weeks and weeks in a row. Turns out, eating always sounds better than studying.

But then I go upstairs to find a snack, walk in the pantry or open the freezer, and remember that I'm getting married in like a month and a half.

So then I think to myself [and it irritates me every time] "do you want that Haagen Daz bar, or do you want to be a pretty bride." And then I let out a small groan.

Moral of story: whoever invented 15-calorie popsicles should be sainted.

Meanwhile, Brandon sits downstairs and leisurely eats an entire bag of mini-Twixes, everyday. Cool.

Once Upon A Time

2009-07-07T01:44:00.005-04:00

The other day, I remembered that I'm engaged. No joke, I'd forgotten. I was literally sitting on my bed, pitifully surrounded by piles and piles of incomprehensible law books, thinking about how the bar people are terrible people who must lead pathetic, insecure, empty lives because not only do they expect you to learn tricky stuff, they expect you to know volumes of tricky stuff, and then they try to trick you about the volumes of tricky stuff, and it suddenly dawned on me, "wait a minute. I'm getting married in like 7 weeks. Married. MARRIED! I AM A BRIDE!" And I got excited. Really excited. And I realized, screw the bar, I AM going to live happily ever after, dammit. And I'm pretty sure that could be a Disney movie.

OFFICIAL

2009-06-02T15:46:00.006-04:00

Just received grades. Passed all classes. Now, officially, a law school graduate. Brandon passed too. Still trying to figure out ways to make being an engaged couple consisting of 2 law grads cool. Haven't figured out how yet. Currently driving all over the country, intermixed with getting stranded in small towns for several days when car breaks down. Everyone should spend time in a Value Inn. They are very nice. Also studying for the bar. Miserable. Keep telling myself it is a good opportunity to learn a bunch of law stuff. Doesn't really make me feel better. Got assigned to take bar in Buffalo-- feel like this is very very good bar karma, since I loved (almost) every second of living in western NY. Except when it got really really really cold and anytime I ever tried to eat decent Mexican food. Already formulating Plan Bs if I fail the bar exam. All involve getting pregnant really really quick after we get married. Brandon is now more concerned about me passing the bar than I am.

You Don't Have to Know the Difference Between Viruses and Bacteria to be a DOCTOR

2009-04-28T12:54:00.016-04:00

Yup, it's official, I have my Juris Doctorate. I was going to say I feel like a genius, but then I had to look up the correct spelling of "doctorate," so that didn't last long. Oh well, graduation was pretty fun. I mean, it was pretty boring, but a lot of family came into town, and it was a really wonderful celebration. Highlights of the tw0-day festivities included having my entire immediate family together (and both sets of grandparents), getting the Howicks and the Davies together for some mutual grad love and a delicious bbq, and having a big dinner with all my best law school girlfriends and their families-- all the moms loooooved finally getting to meet each other. So pretty much, I'm a lawyer. Well after I pass the bar, which may or may not happen. Talk to me in August. For real, though, guys, I love law school!

On the floor at graduation.

Couldn't have done grad school without Em.

Also couldn't have done grad school without the best parents ever.

Yeah I love it when we're all together!

Saying thanks to all our families...

With the dads.

With the moms.

The grads. Love these girls!!

D-R Forever!

Getting the diploma.

Future sisters-in-law!

Future nephew!

Also couldn't have done grad school without the grandparents! Thanks Judge!

The Howicks and the Davies.

End of an Era

2009-04-09T14:30:00.003-04:00

Today is my last day of class, EVER. I went to the Wilk to get lunch, and almost cried. I feel like that might not be normal.

NAME CHANGE!!

2009-03-19T16:05:00.014-04:00

Sundance Resort, March 2009.

So, in a little under 6 months, my name will officially change. Don't worry, Davies won't disappear... but it will shift slightly, and become the middle name I've never had. In other words, my name will soon be.... Marie Davies HOWICK. Yaaaaaaaaaa! Thinking about this significant alteration reminds me of a hilarious Friends episode (let's be honest, they are all hilarious). Anyway, Phoebe gets married and goes to legally change her name. Afterwards, she meets up with her husband, super excited, with the certificate in hand, and says "hey guess what, when you change your name, you can change it to ANYTHING you want!" So, instead of taking her husband's last name, she changed her name to "Princess Sophia Bananahammock." Ha ha ha ha ha ha. So then, without missing a beat, her husband says, "ok, that sounds fun, I'm going to change my name too." And Phoebe is like, yaaaa you are! And he says, "from now on, I'll be known as 'Crapbag.'" Ha ha ha ha. And then Phoebe is like, hmmmm, right... "ok, fair enough." And then they run into some of her clients and she's trying to be polite. And her husband is standing there, with a sparkle in his eye, and says, "honey, aren't you going to introduce me?" And then Phoebe is like, oh crap, hmmm... yeah, of course "guys, this is my husband." And then he says "aren't you going to tell them my name?" And she hesitates and goes "this is my husband, Crapbag." Ha ha ha ha ha ha. And then the clients leave and she says, "ok point taken I'm changing my name tomorrow." So anyway, the point of this story is, I love that Phoebe ended up with someone who was perfect for her--- who knew exactly how to be with her. I feel the same way about Brandon. Whoa. That was epic. I don't think I've ever written his name in my blog. I've always referred to him as "the boyfriend." Mainly because I think it's funny, but also because, I mean I was almost positive it was going to work out, but, hey, no guarantees, right? And what would happen if something crazy happened like I found out he has 4 kids and then we broke up and then there were all these blog entries with his name all over the place and then what would I do? Go back and delete them all? That seems so 6th grade. Anyway, now, I feel like, even if he has 4 kids I'll probably still marry him so, I guess I can start referring to him by his first name. Or maybe as "the fiance" because that still sounds more fun.

Our story, in brief, is, we are both in our last year of law school; we met at the beginning of law school almost 3 years ago. We started dating pretty quickly after law school began, but we never got serious and so we got to know each other better, which was nice, but neither of us were looking for some big intense relationship. So then we stopped dating for about a year and remained friends-ish (ha ha ha that's also a good story) and then we started dating again about a year ago, and by about a year ago I mean March 26, 2008. See, 6 months ago, me knowing that date would seem creepy, but now it's cute, because we're engaged. It's funny how things change depending on the circumstances.... Anyway, we both graduate in a month and we're taking the New York Bar this summer, then we'll move to NYC this fall and live happily ever after.

Friends have been asking to hear the story about how Brandon proposed, so here goes. But first, I would like to start by listing the 20 things I love most about Brandon. Ha ha ha just kidding, I just threw that in there to freak Brandon out at the thought of getting all lovey-dovey about him. He claims he reads my blog but I don't totally believe him, so we'll see if I hear about this post.

Anyway, Brandon proposed last Tuesday, March 10. On Monday, March 9, he casually asked me what I had going on on Tuesday, and I said I had class like normal until 6 and then my hair guy had a cancellation so I'd made a last-minute hair appointment at 6:30. He said, "ok, my uncle is in town and wants to take us to dinner and meet you, but we could do it Wed, too, I have a basketball game but we could make it work." So, I said, "well, I can for sure do Wed, but I was thinking about changing my hair appt anyway b/c I want to wait a couple more weeks so if I change it I'll let you know and then I'd be free tomorrow night for dinner too, whatever works for you." So then, on Tuesday morning I decided to cancel my hair appt so I called my guy and made sure I could switch and then at noon I texted Brandon and told him I'd switched my hair appointment and so was free for dinner that night. It turns out, as I texted him, he was having lunch with my dad in Salt Lake asking for my dad's blessing (I know! Adorable!). So, then, I didn't hear much from him that day, the occasional text... he said he'd talk to his uncle, etc. Turns out, he was coordinating the whole proposal with all the people who needed to be in on it. So then, at 4:45 while I was in class, I got a text "kind of late notice but my uncle wants to take us to dinner at Sundance at 7, we'd need to leave about 6:30. does that work?" I didn't see the text until I got out of class at 6, so at 6 I called Brandon and said that'd be great and then rushed home and tried to freshen up a bit to meet his uncle.

I should probably explain Sundance-- it's kind of our place, for lots of reasons. For people not from Utah, Sundance is a ski resort up in the mountains around Provo and it was started by Robert Redford back in the day and is definitely the coolest spot in Provo--- great restaurants, beautiful location, it's got a really chill, charming vibe. So anyway, on one of our first dates back in our first year of law school, Brandon took me to the Owl Bar at Sundance. Then, when we picked back up again last year, we went up to the Owl Bar again. We've eaten brunch at Foundry Grill, which is a fabulous, sort of rustic-trendy restaurant. And we've been skiing up there together. Our most romantic night (other than engagement night) started at Foundry Grill. Oh, and we've been to Sundance Film Festival together twice, once our first year of law school, and once this year. The film festival is not the exact same thing as Sundance Resort, but almost, so to me it all lumps in as the same thing. So anyway, Sundance definitely has a lot of sentimental value.

Anyway, so as we were halfway up the canyon, Brandon's friend pretended to be Brandon's uncle on the phone, and said he was delayed, blah blah, but that he'd cover our dinner and try to meet us for dessert. So, up until this point, I had no idea Brandon was planning to propose that night. But then, as Brandon was hanging up his phone, I saw his friend's name pop up on the phone. But Brandon has an I-phone and I don't understand it at all, so I thought maybe his friend had just texted him at the same time he'd hung up, or maybe he'd pushed a button and previous calls had popped up or something. But I also thought, wow maybe Dave just called pretending to be Brandon's uncle, holy crap Brandon might be proposing, holy crap. So then I was like freaking out in my head like whoa, oh my gosh, ok this is awesome, ok don't freak out, maybe he's not proposing don't freak out because if he doesn't propose and you think he's proposing, but ok if he is proposing you gotta be ready so you're not all cry-y or something... anyway, the reason Brandon had to come up with the uncle ruse is because if he'd said "let's go to dinner at Sundance" he would have been totally busted and I would have 100% known something was up.

So, we get up there and Brandon was maybe a tiny bit weird, but not too much, but I felt like the waiters were looking at me funny but I was like, don't read into it don't read into it.... you had a hair appointment until 5 hours ago... So then at the Foundry Grill there's this little back annex room, which I didn't even know about, and they led us back there and it's quite private with only a couple tables back there and there's a fireplace and they sat us at the table right in front of the fireplace. And Sundance was stunning that evening-- it had just snowed the night before so there was fresh powder everywhere--so we looked out the window at the gorgeous snow covering the mountains and it was just a really really beautiful setting.

So anyway, we ate dinner and the whole time I was trying not to read into anything. And then after dinner I went to the bathroom because I wanted to make sure I didn't have anything in my teeth because I didn't want to get engaged with food in my teeth, just in case. And then I came back and we ordered dessert and then instead of bringing dessert the waiter brought a single rose and a really pretty porcelein box. And inside the box there was a nice note explaining the significance of the box---the card and the significance of the box were amazing--- and then as I finished reading the note he was standing up and came over and got down on one knee and proposed and I said yes and it was totally dreamy!

Then we sat there for like an hour and I tried to wrap my head around the fact that I was engaged which took awhile but was exciting and got more exciting as it kept sinking in... and then Brandon's sister was waiting for us at the bottom of the canyon with a big stack of wedding magazines, which was such a thoughtful touch on her part and it was really exciting to celebrate with future family... then some of my best friends met us because of course they had to come meet us as soon as they found out the big news and then we drove up to my parent's house and celebrated with my family and it was really pretty much a perfect night!

So we're planning to get married sometime in August after the bar exam, so clear your calendars....

And, in honor of the fact that I am ENGAGED, I guess I can finally post some pictures of Brandon on my blog...

Engagement night with Brandon's sister, Paige.

Engagement night with my little sister.

Skiing at Sundance.

Sunance Film Festival, 2009.

On our way to a (terrible) movie at Sundance Film Festival.

Sundance Film Festival, 1st year of Law School, 2007... The beginning!

Yaaaaaaaaaaa engaged!! Also, I've noticed since I've gotten engaged I have a tendency to use like 8 exclamation points at a time. No one is more annoyed by this than me, and I am trying very hard to get out of this habit as soon as possible...
bra

It's Always Sunny in the Dominican Republic

2009-02-27T17:20:00.014-05:00

I have to take part of the bar exam a week from tomorrow. It's the ethics portion. I haven't begun studying, and I scheduled today as "start learning stuff day," but, I feel like I'm pretty ethical, so, I'm going to post some pictures from my trip to the Dominican Republic instead. Maybe in the future I'll include some details of the trip, for now, highlights included: 1. staying in the nicest room(s), in the nicest hotel in the country---don't worry, we actually had 3 adjoining rooms, that were all equally stunning, with 3 balconies and unlimited Coke Light... 2. my sweet scuba diving excursion, 3. almost getting an STD from the ocean, multiple times. Needless to say, it was an excellent vacation.

Dark Days

2009-02-25T15:12:00.011-05:00

So. I just returned from a magical 12-day jaunt in the Caribbean. As expected, everything about the trip kept getting awesomer and awesomer, and some good stories are coming. For now, I felt like I'd get the most important info out to everyone-- the evidence of my incredible tan. One of my main goals, and by one of, I mean 100% my main goal, of this vacation, was to get as tan as possible. I meticulously planned the whole process. First, I prepped my skin for optimal sun exposure by crafting the perfect base-tan a la the slightly shady tanning salon on Freedom Blvd. I may have unwittingly contracted some sort of fungus, but if so, it was worth it. Then, I fully maximized the entire 12-days in paradise. Every second counted. Not one moment of sunshine went wasted. I religiously applied SPF 4 every morning, and then re-applied as necessary, so the baking process would proceed as effectively as possible. I refused to wear anything above SPF 4, because I wanted to make sure I grabbed every single ray of sunshine, but, I made sure I wore enough 4 so that I never burned, never peeled, etc. The result of my very precise formula, was, well, not to brag or anything, but pretty much the world's greatest tan, as evidenced by these before and after shots. Day 1 vs. Day 12. Don't be too jealous. I'm sure your February look is equally fabulous. Also, my hair looks sweet in the after pic. That's all. Viva la Republica Dominica!! Feel free to also be jealous of my spanish skills. I love my life.

Air Sick

2009-01-07T18:37:00.010-05:00

So I boarded a plane 2 days ago, and in front of me, a few people up, stood an old old woman. She asked the flight attendant (about 30-ish) for help putting her carry-on in the overhead compartment. The flight attendant, who had a really grumpy look on her face the whole flight, I mean seemed like a world-class be-otch, said, very emphatically "Oh no, I absolutely cannot do that for you. I can't be lifting bags above my head. I can help (she made little hand motions as she said "help") you put your bag up, but I can't do it all by myself. If I was lifting everyone's bag over my head, well, I just can't do that. Sorry, I just have a policy, I just cannot lift my arms above my head like that." So a man, standing next to the old lady, said, "here, let me help" and did it for her. But seriously? What an awful woman. Look, I'm sure as a flight attendant, you get asked to do a lot of annoying stuff, but really, give me a break. The woman was like 80. She needed help. Lift her teeny old-lady bag. There's no way that bag was heavy. The woman was frail. FRAIL. If she could carry it, the jerk flight attendant could undoubtedly lift it without throwing out her bony back.

The old lady looked so embarassed that the flight attendant had made such a loud scene over such a simple, quiet request. I stared at the flight attendant indignantly, and I was pretty appalled. (Also, later in the flight, when she took my drink order, I asked for a diet coke. She was holding a half empty coke zero in her hand, because she had just poured it for someone else. She gave me the rest of the coke zero. I didn't see her do it, but I can tell the difference. They had diet coke and coke zero, so she should have given me a diet coke but she was too lazy. So, I already thought she was a horrible woman for old-lady hating, but that really proved that she was the worst flight attendant ever. Just take the extra second to reach for a stupid diet coke, lady.)

Anyway, I thought the rotten flight attendant was a perfect incident highlighting the state of the airline industry in general: NASTY. What in the world happened? Remember when you could often find flights for 100 to 200 dollars? Remember, in the glory days, when your loved ones could even greet you excitedly at the gate? At the least, remember when security was relatively smooth sailing? Now, a 2 hour flight costs as much as a Coach bag (and hello, Coach bags last forever and you can wear them all the time and they're soooo adorable-- a much savvier investment). Now, you have to shiver at curbside pick-up just so you can throw your bag into the backseat and give your loved one a hurried hug as the nazi airport police [aka rent-a-cops] border the road and make sure no one's engine idles for more than 3.2 seconds. And now, security, of course, is a nightmare-- but for no good reason: as one columnist wrote, the best national security tactic our leaders could come up with for airports is "forcing people to take off their shoes and throw away their shampoo?" Oh, there is one more part to that national security plan: flight attendants now think they are navy seals. "Turn off that phone right now!" And then they stand there until you turn it off. Here's a confession, sometimes I accidentally leave my phone on in my pocket. Guess what. We take off and land very safely. Even with my tiny t-mobile intereference. Somehow, shockingly, my 75 dollar Samsung doesn't take down a giant Boeing. "Stay in your seat until we are DONE TAXI-ing!" "Sit down, sir. Sit... sir, sit, sir, SIT DOWN." Yes, going 2 miles an hour on an airport runway is pretty risky. People get broken ribs all the time from that. "Buckle that da#% seatbell you jack-a$$!" And, they act like if you don't shut that I-pod down immediately they have the power to have you arrested for violating national security. Guys, flying is not that big of a deal. It isn't that sacred. And besides, seriously. Seriously? Who do flight attendants think they are? You serve drinks. You sell headphones. You SELL HEADPHONES. Like, it's not that hard of a job. I can pour diet coke too. And I would actually pour diet coke, not sick coke zero. You're not saving anyone's life, so don't act like we as loyal Americans should thank you for knowing how to point out emergency exits. We don't even need you to do that. There are big red signs.

Anyway, I can think of like 400 more things wrong with the airline industry, but I'm done for now (except what happened to snack packs? Now they give out disgusting little cookies or one tiny bag of peanuts. I loved those Delta snack packs. Ok maybe not loved, but it made the flight go faster. What happened to a whole can of soda? It's unfortunate that all the flight attendants are women-- I can't even flirt for a whole can. I would too, because sometimes those flights are long and I don't always have time to buy something (plus it's grating to pay 7 dollars for a 14 ounce drink) and I get pretty thirsty and the water in the bathroom specifically states that it's undrinkable, but don't think I haven't ever considered the idea). Why do you have to pay to watch the movie? Why are there always problems and delays at the airport.... why do I get stuck in a holding pattern above the airport 4 out of 5 times I fly? Why, in general, is TSA so unbelievably incompetent? Why is it 100 dollars to change my flight? That used to be free. You know what else used to be free? Checking a freaking bag......)

Anyway, I'm sick of the nasty airlines industry. I'm sick of the nightmare every trip to the airport conjurs. I might start taking boats to places overseas. And trains to places in America. Amtrak here I come. Sure I'll be surrounded by homeless people and drug addicts, but I bet they'll be nicer than those STEWARDESSES. That's right. That's my small rebellion. I'm never referring to them as flight attendants again. We're back in the 1950's. I'm going to say "Stewardess, hon, can you get me a diet coke, please?" from now on. Genius. That's pretty passively-aggressively demeaning. Here's in honor of you, old lady.

Finals Frenzy

2008-12-10T22:09:00.021-05:00

So, I thesaurus-ed "pain" and found these listings, in no particular order, except alphabetical: afflict, aggravation, agony, anguish, annoyance, anxiety, bitterness, bore, bother, chafe, despondency, discomfort, distress, drag, effort, exasperate, excrutiate, exertion, grief, gripe, harass, harrow, hurt, irk, irritation, malaise, martyrdom, misery, nuisance, pest, punish, rack, sadness, shock, strain, stress, suffering, torment, torture, travail, tribulation, trouble, upset, vexation, woe, worry, wretchedness. And I kid you not, each and every one of these words describes how I feel at some point or other during finals. I know, miserable right? As in literally, "miserable" is one of the words. Finals are just 100% purely and absolutely exasperating-vexatious-irritating-punishing-etc. etc. etc. Or in other word(s): painful. Ok, you get the idea.

Anyway, even though finals are awful, I also get a little nostalgic at this time of each semester, because it was finals (aka escaping finals for just a brief, incredible moment) that originally inspired me to start this very stellar blog, which I know now inspires a lot of people on a regular basis. And by "inspire" I mean, occasionally, a few people skim it.

So, in honor of how this thing started, here's the latest list of what I've done in lieu of actually studying:

1. My remaining final is for a class called "Secured Transactions." So, a few days ago, figuring I should well, figure out what the class is about, I wikipedia-ed "Secured Transactions." Then, I read the 2 paragraph definition and thought "OOOHHH. Ok. That makes sense. Ok, I think I get it. Ok I bet a lot of stuff will make sense, now that I know what a Secured Transaction is." Not kidding, that happened. Like 2 days ago.

2. Watched a lot of worthless TV (and also Online TV, which isn't so worthless, because it's totally awesome. Did you guys know that you can watch vintage episodes of "My So Called Life" on ABC.com? You didn't did you. You can thank me later. OH and PS, I spent a lot of nights [that wasn't meant to sound skanky] hanging out in Claire Daines' old apartment in Australia. Beachside. Sydney. I know, like I'm pretty cool guys.)

Anyway, some, but not nearly all, of the TV I've watched includes:

- 2 hours of "His and Her Christmases" on Lifetime, which is a meandering (and not a good meandering) story of 2 journalists (one man and one woman, shocker) who have differing opinions about the meaning of Christmas and battle it out via dueling columns, week by ever growing-romantic-tension week, in their respective rivaling newspapers. Guess what happens at the end? They live happily ever after. Pretty sure I saw the same Christmas movie like 7 years ago, but I'm not positive because every Lifetime movie is pretty much the same, so they all kind of blur together. Man I love that channel so much.

- 4 hours of "Made" on MTV. "Made" is a reality-tv show which usually involves an MTV-provided "Made"-coach helping a high school geek/cast-out become a Prom Queen or at least more popular, etc. It ALWAYS involves the kid losing weight, ditching their old friends, and joining clubs/activities that make the kid feel incredibly uncomfortable and out of place. Also, the kid never actually wins the Prom Queen contest. It's a pretty heart-warming show.

- 1 hour of the annual Christmas Devotional, which wasn't really an hour because we Tivo-ed it and skipped through all the songs [maybe if the choir sung songs that I actually recognized, we wouldn't have had to skip them, just saying] and chatted through most of the talks. I'm still glad I watched it though. Cheers for the true meaning of Christmas. [I just put that last part in so not paying close attention to the Christmas Devotional wouldn't come back to haunt me later. Like literally haunt after I'm dead and trying to get into heaven. Ok I suddenly want to watch "A Christmas Carol" now, wow now I have yet another distraction. Excellent.]

- Several hours of Gilmore Girls. Several. I've never seen the first couple seasons, but luckily, perfect timing, that's where the re-runs are at the moment. I love the Luke and Lorelei early-years banter... somehow it's so exciting to see it, knowing how it all ends up... again, happily ever after.

3. Showered and worn makeup, almost everyday. Normally, I feel very justified in not getting ready during finals, but somehow I see the boyfriend everyday, and for some reason, I feel like I'm not being a very good girlfriend if I see him and I smell. I guess the whole women's liberation movement hasn't totally been completed, and "the man" is still holding us back. Pretty annoying. But, turns out, showering is as good of a distraction from studying as anything else. Who knew.

4. Re-read old texts. A lot are ones that make me smile from the boyfriend, which today, spurred me to look at the dates of these texts, and then try to remember about a year prior to the date of the text, and compare our relationship then and now, and think "wow, so many great things can happen in a year." I haven't told the boyfriend about this latest genius, savant-esque way to avoid studying, because it sounds a little creepy, out of context. Or in context. Luckily, the boyfriend doesn't read my blog. If you know him, maybe don't mention this item.

5. And.... for the second year in a row, elfed myself (and my siblings) (twice). And watched them over and over again. Man I love the internet.

70's style:

http://elfyourself.jibjab.com/view/ZolxasiQfHI77hkLbHgu

and ... Old-School:

http://elfyourself.jibjab.com/view/x1jhgmGdBQXpHSzPOr2l

Ok, back to studying. Ha ha ha ha ha yeah right. I'm for sure watching the elf videos again, right now.

I Don't Know Why High School Romances Are So Perfect But They Are

2008-12-03T23:31:00.018-05:00

So, when I typed "marie" in my scroller-bar-thing at the top of the Internet Explorer page, my blog name didn't pop up. My own blog. In my own Internet Explorer. In other words, it has been erased from my scroller-bar-thing history. In other words, I haven't visited, let alone written in, my blog in forever. I'm going to blame the time-sucking boyfriend. It's not really his fault, but I'm blaming him anyway. Mainly I just haven't had anything that interesting to say. When did I get so boring. I haven't been righteously indignant, completely confused, or put in an awkward/embarrassing situation for weeks now. Stinks.

Oooh but I just thought of something worth discussing. Ok, so for my cute cute cute little sister's 13th birthday, she invited her friends to pretty much the best party in the history of 13-year-old parties. We got pedicures, then went to Cafe Rio, then did cake/presents, then went to High School Musical 3.

I know, she's 100% precious.

Anyway, here's the very important news. High School Musical 3 is incredible. I am not being facetious. I have seen a lot of musicals performed by the best of the best, most talented artists out there--- Broadway, West End, LA, Toronto, seriously, I'm kind of an expert. No joke, High School Musical could be on Broadway. Not so much the actors in High School Musical because their voices aren't that good (but Zach Efron is SUCH a good dancer and SO masculine about it, it's crazy hot) but the PRODUCTION could for sure be on Broadway. Adorable, clever songs. Fabulous choreography. Stunning sets. I loved every second of it. I also loved every second of Zach Efron's hot hot.... hot..... um, acting. Yeah. Acting.

Ahhhhhhhh look at how adorable he is! I'm serious guys.

Ok and speaking of totally awesome movies about high school that people too easily dismiss as corny and are in fact only hurting themselves because they are missing out on total mind-blowing-ness: everyone should see Twilight. Look, don't even start. Don't tell me it's cheesy. Don't tell me you didn't like the books. Don't tell me you don't like the casting. I don't want to hear it. When they announced a Twilight movie, I wasn't really psyched about it-- I really liked the books because Edward Cullen is, ah, um, I'm weak in the knees in my head which I know isn't possible but apparently it is because it's happening, just thinking about him... he is The Perfect Man (vampire). Ohhhhhhhh. Sooooo Hot. Anyway, I thought there was no way a movie could come close to capuring the Edward Cullen fantasy in my head. But, I was wrong. The guy who plays Edward in the movie NAILS it. Nails. So incredibly dreamy. Whoa. You won't experience the sounds I'm making right now because I don't feel like onomatopoeia-ing, but, imagine a lot of girlie, breathless "whew"-ish sounds. I am not kidding. Those sounds are happening right now.

Please just look at that. Ridiculous. RI-DIC-U-LOUS! I am so enchanted. I love him. Seriously, I'm not kidding guys. Anyway. See Twilight. Love it. Revel in the romance. Deny it if you want, but you know it's awesome.

I had a lot of fun in high school, but it stinks that there wasn't spontaneous dancing in the cafeteria/a painfully gorgeous perfectly ideal (and really really strong) guy roaming the halls. I feel a little shafted.

Blackacre Blitz's Last Down

2008-11-20T11:03:00.018-05:00

Well, the dream died. Some other team will proudly wear the girls' flag football intramural championship teeshirt. In a tough game, full of upsets and disappointments, well, basically we got rocked.... Slightly tragic, but at least we maximized our last season together. It was a good run. A great run. I'm already nostalgic....... so here's a little flashback of the memories. And, one very important note, thanks to all our ridiculously awesome fans. Those games wouldn't have been nearly as fun without you guys! Yaaaaaaaa Blitz!

Palin-ator

2008-10-16T17:16:00.013-04:00

So, I still haven't decided who I'm going to vote for in the upcoming Presidential election. It's sort of like in Friends when Ross and Chandler are arm wrestling, and, hands intertwined, they grimace at each other in a complete stalemate for several minutes. Ross's girlfriend-at-the-time comments, "wow they are both really strong." And Joey, disgusted, replies "or equally weak." It's funny how Friends can be so so insightful. Anyway, even though my opinion about the two candidates is somewhat yet to be determined, my friend asked me what I thought of Sarah Palin. Somehow, a very simple question sparked a passionate response email, which kind of shocked me. But, in sum, I like Sarah Palin, and here's why:

I like her style. I like that she's not a perfectly polished politician (and though that means that her answers aren't always flawless and that sometimes she looks a little nervous, to me, that makes her normal and sincere, not stupid. I'm sick of practiced/coached [aka disingenous] politicos running everything). I like that she's a mom who got her start by seeing some things that needed to change in her kids' schools and decided she could probably be the one to make those changes for the better, and then, from there, because she's sharp and capable, the sky has been the limit.

I like that she's smart and strong but still feminine— I think there are some women who don't like her because she's everything they're not.

I think she's plenty capable of running a country, because the secret to success is to surround oneself with people that have specialized knowledge in various expertises— the President basically needs to be an expert administrator. She's demonstrated over and over again that she can administrate, in fact, she’s proven she can administrate exceptionally effectively. She gets things done, and the things she gets done actually have a positive impact (like cleaning up her local government by kicking out corrupt politicians). She’s shown her ability to do this consistently, at a school level, a city level, and a state level. By the way, how can anyone argue that a governor doesn’t have enough experience to be President? Think of how many of our past Commander’s-in-Chief have gone directly from a governor’s mansion to the Oval Office.

Most important, when she speaks it makes me feel hopeful about America. I think she embodies a lot of the traditional values this country is so easily forgetting. I think she believes in the country and believes in the people; I think she's real and genuine and I think she understands what it's like to be a normal person living in America. Compare that to the typical politician— a privileged, rich, powerful person from a powerful family who's never really lived in the America the rest of us occupy.

Palin the person has impressed me. I think she's a great role model and I think she's changing the world. Frankly, I wish she was running for the top spot... though partially because Tina Fey Palin is hilarious and I'm not ready for that to end.

P.S. her husband is also smokin' hot. Who knew fishermen could be so so sexy...

Ok, but in all seriousness, go Sarah Palin. Go powerful, bright, engaged, charismatic, dignified, values-driven, beautiful woman. I'm cheering for her.

Spike-tacular.

2008-10-12T23:29:00.008-04:00

So, after four games, our law school flag football team is 4 and 0. 4.0. Coincidentally, the same as my GPA. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha. Nope. Anyway, we continue to dominate. We've literally been scored on like twice, total, ever. EVER. Meanwhile, we score like 40 or 50 points every game. Pretty much, we're awesome. There is nothing more fun than that hour of flag football every week. Thank goodness we still have half a season left. I also feel like I know stuff about football now. The boyfriend likes to watch football a lot, which would normally be traumatic, but now I like to watch the tight ends and get tips on what I should do, because, I feel like I should take my job as tight end very very seriously. I actually usually don't really know which guy is the tight end, but I'm getting better. The boyfriend told me yesterday that I'm not a true tight end and I was really offended and now more determined than ever to play "true tight end" whatever that means. So anyway, now he and I have this whole new thing to bond over. It works both ways, he can be happy that I'm happy to watch football with him, but since karma is karma, he ends up having to come watch all my flag football games which I know is slightly traumatic for him, even though he won't admit it. So, in a nutshell, we have a very healthy, balanced relationship.

Anyway, back to intramurals-- as with most things in life, there's a flip side to every situation. Take all the good about our flag football team, reverse it, and that's our law school volleyball team. We are terrible. After the regular season of any sport, the intramural people put you in a division for the tournament. For women's volleyball, there were four divisions. We were in division 4. In other words, the lowest. The tournament was double elimination. After three games... we were out. Ha ha ha ha. The worst part was, I kept thinking we were better then we actually were. I'd watch the other team warm up and think "Oh man these guys are a joke. We are so much better. This is going to be embarassing." And it was embarassing. Except for us. Because we kept losing. Somehow, we'd hit it--- and it would go in the complete wrong direction. Like I would literally be confused. I'd watch and wait for this perfect pass, and then somehow it would end up like in someone else's court. Ha ha ha ha. But, even though our talent level wasn't great, playing together was great. Our team was ginormous, which was awesome because we had a very solid cheering section, which was clutch because not nearly as many fans came out to the volleyball games. Probably because they were worried about getting hit by our stray balls. That happened. More than once. Anyway, I got to know a few of the new girls in law school and it was all around a really fun time. Enjoyable to hit the ball around, and considering the fact that very few of us had actually ever played volleyball before, we ended up really working well together as a team, and by the end, really even found a rhythm. Sure, like an awkward, dorky, white-kid rhythm, but a rhythm nonetheless. Like I've said before, 3L year is the best year in the world.

Powder Puff Times a Bazillion

2008-09-25T18:56:00.007-04:00

So, it turns out, everyone should have a third year of law school. It is the best year in the world. I'm not kidding.

As a third year, you've been doing law school long enough that now it's relatively easy, grades don't matter anyway, there's a decent chance you have a job waiting for you when you graduate, you have enough student loan or summer job money to live pretty comfortably, and armed with the realization that it's your last year to have fun before you have to grow up and be an adult and have real responsibilities and accountability and work at some depressing job for the rest of your life, you know it's time to maximize.

And so, we're ... maximizing.

A key part of maximizing involves our law school girls flag football team. We take it pretty seriously. And by pretty seriously I mean we have practice twice a week, scout other teams so we can design our defense and offense accordingly, have matching tee shirts, and talk about how good our team is every day. In a nutshell, we are incredibly ridiculously awesome. Yesterday, we dominated our arch rivals. They beat us last year in the tourney finals, and ended up winning the whole thing. This year, we got redemption.

We manage to draw a pretty decent crowd, and also manage to use our law school wit to heckle the refs (who are terrible) when we feel indignant because they are clearly favoring our opposition. Last year I almost got kicked out for asking the ref (loudly) if he was dating someone on the other team.

Anyway, stay tuned. It's early in the season, but I'm going to go ahead and predict that we will be walking away with intramural champ teeshirts, which I will probably wear to bed every night for the rest of my life. Maybe not every night. But only if, come winter semester, I have an intramural basketball champ teeshirt, too. Then I can rotate.

I'll Never Be Hungry Again...

2008-09-04T16:25:00.009-04:00

I love gastronomy. I've loved it since I discovered, while living in Paris, the truly magnificent culture behind fine dining. America may not reach France's cuisine caliber. But almost. If anywhere has a shot at rivaling our so well-beloved semi-allies across the Atlantic, it's NYC. And this summer in NYC involved a lot of eating. A lot of job-sponsored eating. A lot. Like, a lot. I went to, um, a lot of three-hour, multiple-course lunches/dinners at some of the nicest, most famous restaurants in Manhattan. It was fun. Filling, but fun. In addition to all the free food, on the weekends, I still ate. This time on my own dime, which meant I ate cheaper, which translated into a lot of bakeries. A lot. Anyway, I made a list of restaurants I sampled (sometimes many times), and some of the dishes that were especially delicious. It's not all-inclusive, I definitely forgot some. But, you get the idea. Luckily, I was "training" for a half-marathon (which I ran in 2 hours 9 min 42 seconds, by the way... Olympic qualifying? Not even close, but I'll take it), otherwise, I may have come home looking like the blueberry gum girl from Willy Wonka.

As background, the Michelin guide to restaurants is kind of the premiere restaurant guide-- rumor has it, some famous chef in Paris killed himself after his restaurant was downgraded from 3 stars to 2. Pretty much, it's a big deal. 3 stars is the most a restaurant can receive. There are three 3-star restaurants in NYC. There are a handful of 2-stars, and about a dozen-ish 1-stars. Even 1 star is very prestigious. I ended up getting to 2 of the 3 star restaurants, and a handful of the 1 and 2 stars. Pretty much, I'm an expert on fanciness. And pretty much, I never want to eat lunch again, because I'm still full.

1. BLT Steak [92 dollar Wagyu Ribeye. I know it’s slightly unbecoming to mention the price, but every time I mention the steak (which is a lot) I can’t say “I had an incredible steak” I have to say “I had an incredible 92 dollar steak.” Somehow, “steak” just doesn’t do it justice, but “92 dollar steak” conveys how I feel about the whole experience.]
2. Le Bernadin [everything was ridiculously delicious] [Michelin 3 Star].
3. Benoit [canelle AND the chocolate souffle AND the profiteroles (accompanied by a pan of warm chocolate dipping sauce and vanilla bean ice cream] [3 Star Michelin Chef Alain Ducasse’s new restaurant] [I think it deserves some Michelin stars but it just barely opened]
4. Masa (actually Bar Masa, … but close enough… I’m still dreaming about the Wagyu beef bento box) [Masa is a Michelin 2 Star]
5. The Modern [beignets, accompanied by caramel sauce, mango sauce, and ice cream dipping bowls] [Michelin 1 Star]
6. DB Bistro Moderne [DB burger—google it/NY Times it] [2 Star Michelin Chef Daniel Boulud’s bistro restaurant]
7. Gramercy Tavern [crème de menthe chocolate mousse dessert] [Michelin 1 Star]
8. Sushi of Gari [Omakase, don’t even ask me what the chef actually created, but it was tasty] [Michelin 1 Star]
9. Jean Georges (lunch AND dinner. Dinner is way better) [jean georges’ signature melting chocolate cake] [Michelin 3 Star]
10. Bar Americain
11. Maze (Gordon Ramsey [Hell’s Kitchen guy] at the London) [breadsticks that melt in your mouth AND Cork Cheese Cheesecake—google cork cheese] [Gordon Ramsey’s is a Michelin 2 Star]
12. Insieme [foie gras stuffed homemade pasta with candied cherries and basalmic vinaigrette]
13. Lever House
14. Del Frisco’s [steak]
15. Blue Fin [teriyaki asian salad]
16. The Palm
17. Baldoria [spinach ravioli in a butter sauce]
18. Mylos
19. La Masseria
20. Harvard Club
21. Yale Club
22. Waccabuc Country Club [lobster]
23. Piano Due [foie gras]
24. Bryant Park Grill
25. Redeye Grill [incredible banana split pie]
26. Whym
27. Barbetta [panna cotta]
28. Thalia
29. Amish Market [Tomato & Vermont Cheddar soup]
30. Isabella’s [Dark Chocolate Bag AND sweet potato fries]
31. Pastis [brioche French toast]
32. Grimaldi’s Pizza
33. David Burke at Bloomingdale’s [8 dollars for a tiny bowl of [marginal] tomato soup, give me a break]
34. Kuma Inn [pork sausage links—sounds gross, but they were incredible]
35. Popover Café [popovers w/ strawberry butter]
36. Mole
37. Papardella [best penne a la Vodka EVER]
38. Cassis [Kobe Beef Cheeseburger]
39. Good Enough to Eat [veggie chile]
40. Lemongrass [pad thai noodles]
41. El Malecon [sweet plantains]
42. Brazil Brazil
43. Grey’s Papaya
44. NY Culinary Institute
45. Nathan’s Hotdogs
46. Cosi [Cosi Bread]
47. Crepes on Columbus
48. Bagelstix [best black and white cookie in the city]
49. 72nd Street Deli
50. Chelsea Piers
51. Some Hungarian Cafe
52. Le Pain Quotidien
53. Europan
54. NY Milkshake Co.
55. Magnolia Bakery [any and all cupcakes, but most especially the white cupcake with white frosting—sounds boring, but it’s the most flavorful cupcake they make and it will change your life]
56. Alice’s Tea Cup [pumpkin scone]
57. Levain Bakery [chocolate peanut butter cookie]
58. Rose et Violette [Perfect Cookie (traditional chocolate chip)]
59. Buttercup Bakery [not as good as Magnolia]
60. Crumbs Bakery [shouldn’t even call itself a bakery in the shadow of Magnolia, but their cupcakes are very pretty so they get an A+ for presentation]
61. Tasti Delite [any flavor with peanut butter chips on top]
62. Pinkberry
63. Red Mango
64. Grom
65. Chocolate Bar [doesn’t live up to hype]
66. Martine’s Chocolate Shop [one bite of any of their chocolates is a taste of heaven, and worth how ridiculously expensive it is]
67. Neuhaus Chocolatier
68. Dale & Thomas Popcorn [Twice As Nice Chocolate Drizzle Corn]
69. Garrett’s Popcorn [Pecan Carmel Crisp]

91 Days

2008-08-12T19:33:00.036-04:00

The Summer of Manhattan ended last week. Here's just a small sampling of 3 crazy months, which involved lots of...

Wandering,

Central Parking,

Museuming,

Ball-gaming,

"Networking,"

lots and lots... and lots of Cocktail Partying,

lots and lots... and lots of work functioning,

Old friends reuniting,

Magnolia Cupcaking,

Trevoring,

at the Bon Jovi concert in Central Park...

at the Harvard Club...

Rooftopping,

Karaoking (3-6 style),

Cute boy-ing,

Roommating (love these girls!!!),

Girl-only (plus Jake) extended family sight-seeing,

AND, maybe best of all, sistering - introducing the most fabulous little girl ever to the magic of Manhattan.

Rockstar Weekend

2008-07-16T23:20:00.022-04:00

So, I specifically mentioned Kati in my last blog post and she didn't even have the decency to comment, so, now I'm posting embarassing pictures to get even. Sabs, my best friend all the way from high school (the years we attended high school can remain unnamed) and her sister Tiffany (when I was in high school I thought she was the coolest person in the world, and pretty much, actually, that's still true), were most-excellent hosts, and as usual, just like every other time, I left really wishing I lived in Boston.

Remembering that whole tea party incident and what not, Boston seemed an especially fitting place to spend 4th of July weekend... let's just say, we had a lot of fun.

For example... we shouldered our way though 8 hundred bazillion people and endured some serious body odor (mine-- ha ha I'm kidding, it wasn't mine. Don't sit there and wonder if I'm really kidding. I'm seriously kidding) to witness the most elaborate/awesome firework display in the history of the universe. Apparently, the show is famous and nationally televised, and I hoped my incandescent purple shirt would glow from space and land me on TVs across America, but, my family watched and insisted they never saw me. I know they totally spotted me but just can't handle the thought of me as a television superstar. I don't know why they're holding me back. I keep telling them I'm not going to forget my roots.

We also dressed up and indulged at an upscale downtown eatery... one of us couldn't eat wheat, and a rogue piece of stale bread plagued our evening. Literally, a killer cruton. Pretty sure our faces are tacked on the restaurant wall with a sign underneath reading "do not let these people within 100 yards of our pretentious front door," but it definitely made a routine steakhouse visit much more entertaining.

We shopped. A lot. We pretty much walked the entire city, twice, meandering in store after store after store.... often meandering out with a much heavier load. After one of many unplanned purchases, I literally turned to a sales lady and said "This is why I can't quit my lawyer job, even though I hate working all the time." She didn't really laugh. But I wasn't really making a joke, as I wasn't really kidding, so I guess it's OK that she didn't find it funny.

And here's those embarassing pics... Kati doesn't like to brag, but she's kind of a Guitar Hero prodigy. As shown in the second pic, her reflexes are so fast, no camera is quick enough to capture her.

Dear Kati, Lindsey Lohan called and wants her hoodie back.

Ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha. OK I'm just kidding. I'm lashing out because Kati played expert and I played medium and she still completely dominated. Plus who wants to read a sappy post. Though, for the record, and in all seriousness, Kati and I are like Bette and Barbara Hershey in Beaches. Except we're both still alive, and neither of us can sing.

Anyway, it was a rockin' 3 day vacation.

D@&% Yankees

2008-07-06T22:09:00.016-04:00

Love 'em or hate 'em, it's still awesome to see the famous Yanks, up close and personal. I've been wanting and trying to see a game at Yankee stadium for years now, but for various reasons kept getting foiled, and it was exciting to finally, finally, finally go. PS Yankee Stadium is disgusting and I'm glad they're building a new one. But I'm still glad I got to see a game before the billion dollar new fancy stadium tower-izes the Bronx. A-Rod and Derek Jeter were like the only two guys I'd heard of, so I spent most of my picture-taking efforts paparazzi-ing them. The Yankees played the Mets so it was like, whoa, this is a big deal. A-Rod hit a home run, but the Mets killed them anyway. Whatev. Go Yankees. And Go Mets. Heck, Go Nathan's Hotdogs (actually, they're kind of sick and have a nasty aftertaste). Oh, and Go Red Sox. (That was for you, Kati, because I know this post probably made you cry a little bit).

Derek Jeter:

A-Rod:

It Was A Dark And Stormy Night (Starring Hugh Grant and newcomer Marie Davies)

2008-06-10T22:37:00.021-04:00

Name this movie: a hot summer night in Manhattan suddenly turns cool. A heavy wind whips through the air.... street lights sway... sand stings and trash flies everywhere.... people start ducking into the nearest store and crane their necks outside as screams can be heard a few blocks away... ambulance after ambulance races by... NOT A MOVIE--- This was a real scene playing out in NYC.... tonight!

So I leave work at about 9:20 pm, looking forward to my nice, leisurely 2 mile walk home. I literally get 3 steps out of the building and a giant brown bag flies right in my face. I can't walk straight because the wind is blowing too hard. I squeeze into Rite Aid, the closest store, and about 20 of us stand around and look at each other and say "What in the world is going on?" It was super eerie. Stuff was blowing all over the streets; it looked like something straight out of Mary Poppins. Or The Birds. Yikes. I decided maybe I should get out of the neighborhood, so I tried to hail a cab. No luck. No cabs to be found. So, I went back to my office and called a car. An associate came in behind me and did the same thing, saying, "Man there are no cabs anywhere." On the drive home, multiple amubulances drove by, going every which-way direction. Hardly anyone was on the street, and anyone who was on the street was on his/her cell phone gesturing wildly. Long streeks of lightning would flash vertically between skyscrapers-- stretching the entire length of the buildings, and immediately after the sky would completely light up and then be followed with a huge clap of thunder. I passed one large interesection that was blocked off because the street was covered in shattered glass, and a street pole had crashed in the middle of the road. I got home, and saw this, I kid you not, right out front my door:

I decided to ignore the resounding thunder and massive bolts of lightning and brave the outdoors (sorry mom). I grabbed my camera, jogged up half a block to Riverside Park, and started snapping away--- the ENTIRE street was littered with tree-debris, and there were several GINORMOUS trees CRACKED IN HALF. The whole street was barricaded as NYPD guys sawed into a GIANT tree that had fallen completely across the road.

Some guy saw me taking pictures and asked me to send them to him because he said one of the trees fell right on top of his car-- he was out in the rain trying to capture the carnage on his cell phone camera.

Anyway, it was crazy. You can't even tell in these pics. But I tried. Driving through the deserted streets of Manhattan, it really felt like I was in the middle of a blockbuster. Or maybe a B-movie. But something. Something big. Anyway, I think it just turned out to be a crazy nasty windstorm that was definitely more dramatic in the moment. But in my head, Hugh Grant and I were about to embark on a whirlwind adventure... coming to a theater near you Memorial Day 2009. Stay tuned.

**Update: the next morning there were several news vans about 2 blocks from my house on the Upper West Side with reporters doing live standups in front of the mess from the night before. Gigantic trees were down all over the place... this link has some awesome footage of the crazy wind and the damage it caused.

http://wcbstv.com/video/?id=113360@wcbs.dayport.com

Hugh are so beautiful.... to me....

2008-05-18T18:41:00.009-04:00

So, I'm living in Manhattan this summer. New York City. The center of the world. At least according to other New Yorkers. It's dreamy. And busy. Insanely busy. So busy, in fact, that I'm not going to go into details about the ridiculous adventures I've already had in the 7 days I've been here. BUT I would like to share one very important piece of information.

I was walking home from work a few days ago, talking on my cell phone to my mom, and thoroughly enjoying pretending I was a real New Yorker. All of a sudden, I see this kind of wrinkly guy who has this classic 'Hugh Grant' expression on his face. And I laughed at myself and thought "wow that guy's expression makes him look a lot like Hugh Grant." And then I thought, "wait a minute... that IS Hugh Grant!!" And then I thought "no way, couldn't be." And I thought "yes it could, I'm in NYC!" This whole time, meanwhile, I'm staring at this man. So then I keep staring. Harder. Like my eyes get squinty. And after enough staring I decide, "Holy Crap. THAT IS HUGH GRANT." So since I was on the phone at the time, my mom got the whole play by play. "Ha, wow that guy looks just like Hugh Grant. Wait a minute, holy... what the... Mom, that is Hugh Grant. THAT IS HUGH GRANT. I JUST WALKED BY HUGH GRANT. I... JUST... WALKED.... PAST.... HUGH... GRANT. MOM YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE HUGH GRANT. I CAN'T BELIEVE... I CAN'T... HA THAT WAS... THAT... THAT WAS HUGH GRANT. MOM. I JUST SAW HUGH GRANT ON COLUMBUS AVENUE." Ha ha ha ha it was so awesome. He totally caught me looking at him. At which point I CURSED that I was wearing a STUPID UGLY BUSINESS SUIT because otherwise MAYBE, just MAYBE I could have had a shot. OK let's be honest. I would not have had a shot even if I was in my best, hottest outfit. But I would have at least smiled or SOMETHING if I'd been in my best, hottest outfit and not a freaking MAN SUIT. I HATE SUITS. HAAAATE. UGHHHHHHH. SO TRAGICALLY UN-CUTE. Anyway, it was still totally awesome. Hugh Grant has a lot of wrinkles. And looks old. And he has short stubby legs. But he's still hot and has that adorable little spiky haircut. AH! He looks just like Hugh Grant! With more wrinkles! Almost as hot as the picture of him that I have emblazoned on a tee-shirt. That's right. I have a tee-shirt with Hugh Grant's picture on it. My friend Lily made it in high school at Kinkos. All my high school friends each had a shirt, and we put our favorite celebrities on it, and our names. I don't know why we put our names on them, but we did. So I still have, and wear, the Hugh Grant shirt. Yes, that is correct, I have loved Hugh Grant since high school. I really wish I'd been wearing the tee-shirt instead of the man suit. I'm not really a big autograph person, but I would have had him autograph the shirt. While I was wearing it. Sure I would have looked like a stalker "I swear Hugh, I just happened to be wearing this shirt" like that would be any better-- the fact of the matter is, whether or not I was following him around, I was still wearing a shirt with his face plastered on the back...... um, and the front. Anyway, I didn't say hi. But I did, as quietly as possible, relay the 7 second experience to my mom as I continued walking down Columbus Avenue. I was quiet until I was a couple blocks away, and knew he was out of ear shot, at which point I started practically shouting, on Columbus Avenue, "I CAN'T BELIEVE I JUST SAW HUGH GRANT! I LOVE NY SO MUCH!"

SO, I know you 100% believe me that I saw Hugh Grant, but in case you don't, check out, http://icydk.com/2008/05/14/hugh-grant-spotted-shopping-in-the-soho-section-of-new-york-city-today/. I saw Hugh on Tuesday night. These are pictures of Hugh walking around SOHO on WEDNESDAY afternoon.

Ha! Ha ha ha ha! SO THERE. I SAW HIM. And I am now officially the coolest person I know. That's all.

Cheers for Great Britain

2008-05-07T00:40:00.011-04:00

And by cheers for Great Britain I mean cheers for Great Britain's greatest accomplishment: David Beckham. I know it's been forever since I blogged and this one is going to be like 3 lines, but Beckham came to SLC to play SLC's weak soccer team, and I could care less about soccer, but I cared about seeing this handsome bloke prance around the soccer field. Luckily I have a camera with paparazzi-esque zoom, no joke, so pretty much I got pretty intimate with England's pride and joy. Here is some proof; I hope you experience as much delight as I did, and one of these days, hopefully soon, my life will de-crazy-fy and I'll finally get back to posting on this thing.

Yes, shirtless. Go ahead and sigh a little. That's all.

Iiiiiiiiiiiiit's FINALS!

2008-04-08T17:41:00.011-04:00

Remember how I hate finals? Well, they're back. Yuck. Ah well, please at least enjoy some recent finals-related conversations:

My friend to me today: "I think my substantial writing requirement (30 page law school capstone paper) may be due on Friday. I'm not sure."

Another friend to me yesterday: "My first final is either this Monday or the next Monday. I'm not sure."

Another friend to me today: "My paper is due on Thursday. I haven't started."

Another friend to me today: "So our Securities final is in a week-- have any outlines you could share?" [for those of you not in law school, generally, one gets outlines at the beginning of the year and uses them througout the semester to study].

My friend to me yesterday: "How's studying going?" Me: "Great. Today I watched two episodes of The Bachelor."

It's sometimes easy to make fun of the girls on The Bachelor because they are so pathetic and embarrassing. But at least they aren't watching other pathetic and embarassing strangers on online TV instead of reaching their potential and doing good things with their lives. That's even more pathetic.

So my question is, how in the H did all my friends and I get into law school? I don't know, but I don't have time to ponder. My little brother has a lacrosse game in Lehi tonight. I figure I should leave like 3 hours early, in case there's traffic. Just like yesterday, I figured I should spend 20 extra minutes curling my hair, you know, for like the 7 people that were going to see me in class, because any way I can slightly rationalize taking a break from studying, I'm there. The problem is, I take so many breaks, I never really study. Best law student, ever.

This is from my high school graduation day. Sometimes I look at it, and think, "I may never wear a cap and gown again." Seriously. I mean I probably will. I'll probably graduate. But sometimes I wonder. I think about what's ahead in the next 2 weeks-- all the crazy work I have to do to actually learn the material for a semester's worth of classes, and I think, can I really pull it off again this time around? Can I really make myself do all that work? We'll see. I'll keep you posted. After my brother's game.

I Got Hungary!!

2008-04-01T14:15:00.010-04:00

So last month, I decided to apply to this visiting student program in Budapest, Hungary. BYU Law sends 2 students every fall semester to a school called the Central European University (all the classes are in English which is good because my Hungarian is a little rusty). I figured I didn't have a chance, but all I had to do was turn in a copy of my resume and transcript, so I thought, what do I have to lose? Then a couple weeks ago, I found out they picked me! So then I texted a few friends who knew I had applied, "I got Hungary," and every single one thought I meant I was HUNGRY so they were all confused for awhile. Ha ha ha so I don't know what that says about me, but maybe I'll be a little less open about how much I like cookies from now on. Anyway, I'm pretty excited. All the classes are about International Human Rights Law (hello... RIGHT UP MY ALLEY!!) and International Business (I KNOW!!) so pretty much, my life is awesome. I'll be in Budapest from the end of September through December, then be back in Provo for my last, fabulous semester at BYU Law.

The best part is, I don't have to pay tuition at the Hungary school or to BYU Law, SO I can spend all that tuition money TRAVELING. I'm thinking definitely Romania, Croatia, (Dalmatian Coast!! Did anyone else see Matt Lauer's "Where in the World" bit in Croatia??? Because ever since then, it's been high high on my list of places to see), Russia, Istanbul... but I'm open to wherever. Probably need to hit up Austria again... Swiss... How far away is Egypt? SO anyway, any suggestions of things to do in the countries listed above, or any other MUST SEE places I should trek to while I've over there for a semester, LET ME KNOW.

AND, in honor of my latest grand adventure... here's a picture taken the morning I left for Paris, France (study abroad) when I was 19. It was my first experience living abroad and was the first step on the crazy wild road which has led me to becoming, well, basically a travel maniac. One day, I'll settle down. Just not today!

Carrel-ing

2008-03-20T17:22:00.017-04:00

A lot of people think law school is really cut-throat. I've found BYU Law to be the exact opposite. My classmates are kind, considerate, caring, and friendly. They happily share notes and coach each other through complicated issues. They smile and wave and cheerfully chit chat. I have nothing but wonderful things to say about my fellow law students. OR SO I THOUGHT. It turns out, I learned today, my classmates will sell you down the river without even BLINKING. Total Treachery.

A carrel is like a small cubicle-- each law student gets their own; it's equipped with shelves and internet access and plugs and a light. You spend a lot of time at the carrel, a lot of hard, long hours. At the end of the year, everyone is assigned a random number in a carrel lottery (yes we are that awesome, it's called a carrel lottery), and in that order, you get to shout out what carrel you want for next year. Not surprisingly people care about where they sit. The window carrels always go first-- because then at least you can stare into the real world and imagine being outside. In order to get the oh-so-coveted early numbers, there's back-room wheeling and dealing, people buy and sell their lottery numbers, yada yada. I know, you had no idea, did you. Well, imagine a bunch of people zealous and Type-A enough to go to law school, and then imagine all those people getting instensively trained for two years on how to find ways to get what they want, and then imagine them fighting over prime law library real estate. It's.... hardcore.

So today was the big day when all my fellow classmates crowded into a room to pick our carrels for next year. It's a big giant madhouse and the people in charge move fast and if you aren't ready when they call your number, sorry sucka, you're out of luck. It's very Soup Nazi-esque. If you don't shout out your claim fast enough, No Carrel For You! Meanwhile, as people call out which carrel they want, you have to frantically check off the corresponding carrel on your little map of the law library, and then re-evaluate where you want to sit accordingly.

This year, about 10-15 of us wanted to all get carrels in the same area. We've been through an incredible two years together, and so naturally, we're a pretty close-knit group. Here are some of the people, give or take a few.

Here is a taste of the kind of fun we have:

As you can see, we like each other a lot, so we figured what better way to ride out the last year of law school, than a big giant carrel-party every.... single... day. So, we plotted, we planned, we gathered, and we got ready to pounce.

We sat there, huddled, as the numbers were called..... and then, something terrible happened. People Started Claiming the Carrels We Had So Carefully Selected! One by One... we saw those carrels drop, it was almost like a war scene from a movie in slow motion-- you turn back and your friend is going down... down to the ground, and you're screaming Nooooooooo in a deep, low voice. Nikki and I were supposed to get carrels for like 8 people who couldn't show up for Insane Pick Your Carrel Day because they had work or whatever, so we were going nuts trying to keep track of everyone's numbers and where they could sit, etc. etc. etc. Meanwhile the rest of the group was sardined next to us and we're frantically whispering OK #301 is gone, so go for #307, or #308, and we can put so and so here and so and so here and Oh crap there goes #307... Ok so then you pick #308 or #311.....

So then the WORST thing happened. We still thought we were OK and then someone called out the clutch middle carrel that we needed to keep the group together. And Nikki yelled out, Noooo!!! (again it felt like slow motion) and the guy said, "Oh is that gonna mess someone up? OK what about #314?" And I yelled Noooo!!!! And Nikki yelled, "We need that one too!" Because that was the other clutch carrel that we really needed. And then my fellow classmates? All those wonderful, compassionate people? They started booing us! [FYI, this delightful crowd had booed a pregnant lady a few minutes before. There was a lot of love in the room]. 150 angry-mobbed, impatient souls booed my friend and I!!! These people I shared outlines with, and listened to all their crap stories about their kids, and smiled at perkily for TWO YEARS STRAIGHT... they booed us!!!

Nikki yelled, "You guys stink!" And I said "Awe man!" And then the guy took our carrel.

So in the end, we all stayed mostly together. But our brilliant plan was definitely somewhat foiled. And after several semesters of crazy finals, and impossible Law Review assignments, and frustrating frustrating intense homework assignments, I've had my most traumatic law school experience yet. Carreling. Who knew.

Ok ok, so actually the boos were mainly in gest, and it wasn't that traumatic. But it was a little bit. I guess if I can survive that, I can survive finals. Wills and Estates -- you won't kill me! Ha ha I hope you guys caught that pun. It was pretty awesome.

Love Is So NOT Blind...

2008-03-06T00:14:00.011-05:00

So I have a problem. Actually, plague would perhaps be a better word. I have a plague, and it is following me around, and it is relentless, and it is slowly killing me. The plague? Overly intrusive old women.

Apparently, I have a sign on my head that says "I am desperate for love, please set me up with your [enter proper term here.... usually involves something like, 'in-bred grandson' or 'band-geek 22 year old nephew' or 'sweet-spirited 36 year old son who just hasn't found the right one yet'].

It's bad enough that these people think somehow I'd be compatible with their cast-off kin. But as part of the process, they force me to say, each time, "No, I don't have a boyfriend right now." Thanks for reminding me. I don't even necessarily want a boyfriend right now, but it still doesn't mean I like shouting "I'm Single, I'm Single!" out loud, over and over.... and over again.

Literally, every time I visit my parent's ward, some lady tries to set me up. I'm not exaggerating. I thought by now it would have worn off. But nope. Still happens. I get accosted. Ladies beeline at me after Relief Society. I don't go to Relief Society anymore. Or Sunday School, because it happens there too. I kind of feel guilty ducking out after Sacrament Meeting, like I'm setting a bad example for my little brother and sister, but seriously, enough is enough. I've explained the situation to my siblings. They think it's hilarious. And they always offer to come home with me, to "keep me company." My parents never go for it.

Ha ha ha ha this is funny.

I really need to find a tactful way of saying "NO NOT IN A MILLION YEARS WILL I SPEND AN AWKWARD FOUR HOURS PRETENDING TO BE INTERESTED IN YOUR DORKY PROGENY, WHICH WILL INEVITABLY BE FOLLOWED BY AN AWKWARD FOUR MONTHS OF POLITELY IGNORING HIS PHONE CALLS AND TEXT MESSAGES AND FINDING ENDLESS REASONS WHY I'M 'REALLY BUSY'." I just haven't found a nice way of putting it yet. And I feel bad lying and making up a boyfriend. And I'm always shocked when people spring it on me, so I get flustered and can't think of a nice way to say "You know, I just don't do blind dates." That sounds so arrogant. So, instead I say, very perkily "Sure, give him my phone number, it's always great to meet new people!" And they grin, delighted, and say "Oh you're just so cute!" And I'm thinking, oh if you could get inside my head right now, "cute" would not be the word you'd use.

So anyway, it happened again today. AT MY HAIR SALON. I walk in completely unsuspecting, just there to have my phenomenal hair guy make me look like Reese:

I know, totally adorable haircut, right? I know it's from early '07, don't judge. It's still adorable. So anyway, he's finishing up on a client and she and he start talking about me, while I'm sitting there, like four feet away. I catch "she's in law school...." "Oh! that's nice!" And I politely sort of smile and pretend to be otherwise engaged. So the lady starts talking to me, and she's very nice. And we have a conversation and I tell her all about how great law school is and we do some cheerful chit chat and then she goes on her way. So probably 15 minutes later, as my hair stylist is putting foils on my roots, he gets a phone call. And I wasn't even paying attention, but all of a sudden he puts the phone on his shoulder and whispers "It's that lady that was just here... she wants to set you up with her nephew" and he kind of makes a face of "I am sooo sorry." So I whisper, "tell her I'm 25" and he hands me the phone and I give him a look of "thanks a lot, you are so NOT sorry but you WILL BE" and hear this "Hi hon, this is ______. So I was thinking.... I have this nephew..." and I, as quickly as possible, blurt out "Oh you know what, I'm 25..." sometimes that discourages them b/c they're trying to pair me off with some 21 year old clueless kid. And she goes, “oh he's older, so that may turn you off. He's 34." So now I'm totally offended! At least when they try to stick me with the 21 year olds I'm flattered that they think I'd be young enough for a 21 year old. THIRTY FOUR?! How old did she think I was?! So anyway, long story short, now some random 34 year old guy has my phone number. She said he was a BYU Law Grad, which she maybe thought would be a selling point, but the thing is, I've seen the BYU Law crop. That's not a selling point. Ha ha ha ha I'm just kidding guys, I love you all and you're all totally hot and if you haven't asked me out yet, maybe you should get on with it b/c as you've read, my dating life is apparently spiraling out of control, and it needs to stop, ASAP.

Anyway, that's my story. Oh, in honor of annoying blind date occurences, here's another one: this one actually happened in Australia, while I was working for the Church. It happened at a lunch party, and so all the Senior Missionaries were there, and they may as well have painted a bullseye on my forehead. Please enjoy the following email exerpt:

Can I tell you how awkward it is to be making small talk with a pair of ancient couple missionaries and have the wife say, "well let me get your phone number so I can set you up with my grandson when you get back to Utah." And then have her turn to her husband and say, "honey, have you got a pen and paper?" And then have the husband go off in search of a pen, come back and say, "Well I'm a little old to be asking for your phone number (har har har) but it makes me feel young so fire away" and then have to sit there and recite my phone number as he eeks out every number in a painfully slow, shaky scrawl while a dozen senior missionaries stand by grinning? Awkward.

Anyway, I know deep down it's probably nice that people think I'm interesting enough to set up with their family members. And the ladies are always really sweet and very well-meaning. But it's frustrating. I've been raised to be respectful and polite to people older than me, and so I really have no idea how to say "no, seriously, no." My mom tells me to say no. She approves. And I vow everytime that NEXT TIME, I'll say no. But then in the moment I feel put on the spot and really feel bad turning these ladies down, so I always say yes. [Think about how hard it is to turn a guy down who's just asked you out on a date. Then imagine staring into the face of a sweet old lady in her church dress and turning her down, essentially communicating "sorry, I'm too good for your offspring. There is no chance. I'm not even willing to give the guy 2 hours."] And I'm really not kidding. This has happened DOZENS of times. Not once or twice. Many many many. I was serious about it being a plague. SO, anyone who has suggestions on how to handle this awkwardness, please help me regain control of my own life, and hand me a cure. I'm listening. Me and Dr. Crane. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha SERIOUSLY that was funny guys. Watch Frasier.

And The Winner Is.......... Some Movie Most Americans Have Never Heard Of!!

2008-02-25T00:16:00.042-05:00

Yay!!! Standing ovations!! Woo hoo!! No Country For Old Men! Some foreign guy I've never seen, with a TERRIBLY TRAGIC HAIRCUT, kills a bunch of people! Yay!!

So I have a love hate relationship with the Oscars. The show is long and boring and CHEESY. Awful forced writing. Even worse forced deliveries (from actors who won the freaking Academy Award... the freaking highest award actors can receive... the year before. You'd think the ONE thing these guys could do is credibly deliver a line. Nope). Plus the "Academy" always pick mainly movies that are gross or agenda-pushing or immoral or whatever. BUT........ the dresses are so pretty! I just love all the fancy formal-wear, the elegant gowns and the chic tuxedos and the glimmering jewelry and the gorgeous shoes! Really love a lot. So, hooray for Hollywood-- I have a few quick observations that cannot go unsaid.

Hair: There are no words. What kind of stylist agrees to give a bowl cut to a woman?

Hair: Breathtakingly stunning.

Dress: Kind of weird. But good weird. Like Johnny Depp weird. Jennifer Garner is my hero. Except for marrying Ben Affleck. 2 Words: Jersey Girl. 2 more words: Jennifer Lopez. Yeah. But she's still my hero. Even though she should have stayed with Michael Vartan.

Speaking of Captain Jack. Sooooo hot. Yes, weird. But soooooooooo hot. I can't believe he got shafted AGAIN.

I made a similar face when I saw her ugly dress. Then consider the doll. Double yikes.

Bleh bleh bleh. Awful cut, awful-er color. And her purse looks like a buckskin canteen. Davy..... Daaaaaaavy Crockett.....

Steve Carrell's wife is way hotter than him, but I'd marry a guy who was brave enough to have his chest waxed [he really actually truly got it waxed--he said it on Oprah, so it's true. Nobody lies to Oprah] in the name of comedy, too. PS, Anne Hathaway looks like a tranny and her dress and hair are both sort of, well, pretty much hideous.

Pretty sure I saw her transvestite twin walking around Grenwich Village. Maybe it was actually her. She should have let her Princess Diaries 2 stylist pick out her outfit.

Very tastefully done. Old woman arms are not attractive. Especially in high-def. But, cleverly covered-up in all the right places, Helen Mirren looks gorgeous (and tiny).

This dress is ridiculous but she was magnificently brilliant in Doctor Zhivago and she's like almost 70 but looks 40 so she gets a free pass.

Cameron's style keeps gets better and better.

The lines of her dress are just beautiful. However, Jessica looks pregnant, and Amish [a side braid, really?]. Oh, and is that a muppet on your chest?
***OK ha ha ha I was just reading something online and then Mrs. Cannon kindly confirmed that it turns out Jessica Alba is actually pregnant, so I take that part back. The dress is still a nightmare, though. That I will not recant.***

Meanwhile, Nicole, looks fabulous in her pregnant-lady dress. And the necklace... The Necklace!!!

Why can't all the stars just wear pretty dresses like this one?

I kind of just really love Viggo. The guy's got panache.

The homewrecker of Grey's Anatomy looks like a tanning bed threw up on her.

Seriously, who is this guy???

And who is this guy??? I've heard of Daniel Day-Lewis... but never seen him. I can't believe Johnny and Viggo and GEORGE got passed up by this. Bad form Academy. Bad form.

My favorite dress of the night. Sleek, classic, and not too revealing. Yay for cute little Miley Cyrus! And yay that my little sister can see a teen icon in a dress that is both tasteful and pretty.

Ok that's all.

Son of a ! That's gonna leave a mark...

2008-02-11T02:56:00.000-05:00

This just in: there's been a MAJOR upset at the Grammies this year. "In a shocking finish, the big award -- album of the year -- went to Herbie Hancock for 'River: The Joni Letters.'" CNN.com.

Ha ha ha ha ha. When I read this, I suddenly wanted to watch Tommy Boy. Remember the part where Tommy is taking his History final... and he has to pass the class to graduate from college.... and one of the test questions is, "Who signed the Declaration of Independence?" And then there's a blank line, before the last name "Hancock." And Tommy thinks about it for a second, then gets a very satisfied look on his face and writes, "Herbie!" Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

I love that movie with all my heart and soul. It may be my favorite movie ever. Sometimes I say my favorite movie is Citizen Kane, but I don't really mean it. I know that Tommy Boy is stupid. And mindless. And slightly innappropriate. But I just love it so much. Because literally like every two minutes, there's something to laugh about. Endless funny lines. So, in honor of Chris Farley, and his immortalization of Herbie Hancock.... here are some of my favorite, immortal, Tommy Boy moments.

Tommy: "Did you hear I graduated?"
Richard: "Yeah and just a shade under a decade. All right."
Tommy: "You know a lot of people go to college for seven years."
Richard: "I know, they're called doctors."

Tommy: "Apparently they give a lot fewer D-pluses than D-minuses. It's not a grade they like to give out. I'll tell you that right now."

Tommy: (after hugging a classmate) "I wish we'd known each other better, this is a little awkward."

Tommy: "Yeah I called earlier."
Richard: "Oh, really? What number did ya call?"
Tommy: "2, 3, 4, 6, 7... niner."
Richard: "You're trailing off and did I catch a niner in there? Were ya calling from a walkie talkie?"
Tommy: "NO! It was a cordless."

Tommy's Dad: "So, how do we look?" Richard: "Chubby!?"

Tommy: "Bees in the car, bees everywhere, they're huge, they're ripping my flesh off!"
Officer 1: "Son uh, roll around, you hear me? Roll around on the ground." Tommy: "Forget that I'm starting to swell up."
Richard: "Save yourself, don't be the hero."
Officer 2: "Frank, I'm allergic to bees."
Officer 1: "Me too."
Tommy: "They're huge and they're sting crazy."
Officer 1: "We..we'll come back later and check on ya."
Officer 2: "Yeah in a while."
Richard: "Save yourself."
Tommy: "Your firearms are useless against them!!"
Tommy and Richard: "AHHHHHHHHH!"

Richard: "Ugh, I can practically hear you getting fatter."

Tommy: "Does this suit make me look fat?"
Richard: "No, your face does."

Tommy: "Richard? Is this your coat?"
Richard: "Don't do it."
Tommy: "Fat guy in a little coat. Fat guy in a little coat."
Richard: "Don't."
Tommy: [singing] "Fat guy in a little coat. Fat guy in a little coat."

Tommy: "Brother's don't shake hands! Brothers gotta hug!"

Paul: "You eat a lot of paint chips when you were a kid?"
Tommy: "Ha ha ha, why?"

Tommy: "Richard, do I have a mark on my face? It really hurts."
Richard: "Nope, nothing. I thought I hit you on the shoulder."
Tommy: "My shoulder doesn't hurt very much, but my face does. (pointing to the big bruise) Right here. Not here or here so much, but right here."
Richard: "Nope, shipshape."

AND, perhaps my personal favorite....

Richard: "Aww... that's gonna up the resale value... melted chocolate in the dash."
Tommy: "I think we're gonna be okay here. M&Ms have a thin candy shell. Surprised you didn't know that."
Richard: "I think your brain has a thick candy shell."
Tommy: "Your... your brain has the shell on it."
Richard: "Are you talking?"
Tommy: "Shut up Richard."

My friends and I used to quote that one like everyday. "I think you're gonna be okay here. M&Ms have a thin candy shell. Surprised you didn't know that." Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. I don't know why it's so funny, but it just is.

Are you now as nostalgic as I am? Nostalgic for the time when Chris Farley wasn't a crazy drug addict (at least we didn't know he was a crazy drug addict) and David Spade wasn't associated with an embarrassing little sitcom called "Just Shoot Me." I miss that fat guy in a little coat.

In Other News, We're All Going To Die. Probably Tomorrow.

2008-01-11T18:39:00.000-05:00

So I heard a story on NPR (National Public Radio) today that went something like this: "Today, for the first time in living memory, it snowed in Baghdad. And environmentalists say it's an ominous sign. It's further evidence of the epidemic of global warming. As some places get unseasonably cold, others get unseasonably warm." And that was it.

As a journalist, I was appalled. Look, say what you want about global warming. It may or may not be a serious threat. It may or may not be caused by man. Have your opinion, whatever. That's not the point. The point is, if you're going to report on something under the auspices of being a credible news agency, you have to have FACTS! You can't just say "so and so says this" without substantiating the claim! It's not a bunch of old ladies sitting in a circle gossipping over brunch at Alice's Tea Cup; it's not a bunch of fourth grade girls sitting in a circle playing telephone at a sleepover. It Is NEWS!

My friend made an interesting point the other day. He was attacking the environmentalists who claim global warming is going to destroy us all. I won't say who this friend is, because I don't know if he wants to be outed on blogspot. Not outed as an opposer of global warming, but outed as my friend.

So anyway, he said, "it's an awfully convenient argument for the environmentalists. If it floods... they cry global warming. If it freezes, they cry global warming. If it's sunny for three days in a row, they cry global warming. So basically, any weather pattern, rain or shine... and we're done for. And how do you prove them wrong?"

Maybe the environmentalists are right. Maybe we're all going to die in like 7 years--- some Dolly Parton impersonator, as she's heading out of her dressing room (sighing for a moment at the a tin-foil star on her door), is going to run back to the mirror and spritz just one last whiff of aerosol-canned hairspray onto her bouffant, to make absolutely sure it stays put during her (or his) song & dance routine--- and the dam that is our Ozone will finally break, and the world as we know it will end forever.

In the blink of an eye, we'll shift seamlessly from this horror:

To this one:

It could happen. Seriously, I have no idea. I have no idea whether or not global warming is really a problem-- BECAUSE NO ONE GIVES ME PROOF!!

Where's the proof???????? If I read a bunch of 100-page obscure journal articles with complicated datasets and longwinded, poorly explained research, I could maybe find it. But that's not how the millions and millions of Americans become "informed." They become "informed" by the news.

So, news organizations, where's the proof it's happening? Where's the proof it's not happening? And who the H do you think you are, reporting on phenomenons that get people worried and screaming for change, or that leave people complacent and resisting change that's needed, WITHOUT EXPLAINING THE UNDERLYING FACTS?

As the former Producer of a very important newscast (5 - 6 a.m. -- pretty much the entire state was tuned-in every morning, completely captivated) in a very influential market (Salt Lake City-- almost as highly ranked [based on size] as Milwaukee, Wisconsin and Columbus, Ohio) I am ashamed at my colleagues.

I am also ashamed of Dolly Parton impersonators. But for unrelated reasons. Well, unless the impersonators are the ones at fault for Global Warming. Who knows?

The bad news: Today was terrible. The good news: I found Jordan a husband.

2008-01-09T02:14:00.001-05:00

Today has been, well . . . . AGGRAVATING.

Ha ha at least I have hair to pull out. That guy is just pathetic.

But no joke, Imagine the most tedious, but also most frustrating assignment/task you've ever done. Imagine the sick sick feeling buried deep in the pit of your stomach as you think about how much of this awful task is still ahead, even though you've spent aaaaallllll day working on it. Think back to the headaches. Maybe even the tears that sprang up when you thought of the futility of your efforts so far, of how much more of the maddeningly slow and complicated work you still had to complete. OK. Now, imagine trying to finish one of those insane tasks as fast as humanly possible, because you have about a dozen more of those equally insane assignments (you know, the ones that take hours and hours and hours to complete) that needed to be done yesterday. And somehow, you have to get started on those as soon as possible, too. Because seriously, they needed to be done last week.

It's kind of like a really uncoordinated fat kid trying to sprint across a balance beam to get away from something awful that's chasing behind him. Arms flailing wildly in the stagnant gym air, he tries to maintain his step. But if he goes too fast, he'll just fall off into the abyss. Same thing. I've had to go as fast as I can, but without messing up, and since the assignments are chalk-full of minutely detailed horribleness, if I'm not extremely dilligent, the completed job will be shoddy and unacceptable. SO, through the anguish, I finally finished the assignment at 11:45 tonight. The last thing I had to do was print several research documents (documents, by the way, that I should not have had to print. But because some other people did a shoddy job on their part of the assignment, I had to pick up the slack.) So, I had everything all printed off in the library... went downstairs to collect the documents. And where were they? Nowhere. The printing hadn't worked, even though my computer had sent me a very official little message assuring me it had worked. And since it was internet research... I don't have a hard copy. And then the library closed and I had to leave. And now, I have to go back and do the research all over again.

I think my eye may have actually bugged out like that. In front of the librarian girl. I think she was pretty uncomfortable. It probably didn't help when I very loudly, and with a startling degree of gusto, slammed the heavy, reinforced library door as I huffed out, leaving an echo clanging through the vast emptiness of the Harold B. Lee.

Now, I'm even more behind than ever. And very very, very very, very very irritated.

Definitely made this face a lot today. But the buck teeth made it hard for people to take me seriously.

So, on my way home from the library, trying to quell the anger, I started thinking about my 12 year old little sister. It worked. The thought of Stinky Winky always cheers my heart. And that got me thinking about a few days ago when she was telling me jokes. She told this joke that I'd heard when I was about her age. Which inspired me to poke my head deep [deep] into the vault of funniness and extract jokes that were circulating when I was her age. I felt like I was almost cheating or something. All these silly jokes that were probably best appreciated by the pre-teen crowd had suddenly found the perfect audience... more than a decade later. It was so awesome. So, here are some of my favorites. Hopefully you remember a few.

1. Bill Clinton, Richard Gere, President Benson, and a boyscout were all in a plane that was about to crash. The pilot had already bailed and there were only 3 parachutes left. Richard Gere said, I'm the sexiest man alive--just ask People, so the world needs me to live. He grabbed a parachute and jumped. Then Bill Clinton said, I'm the smartest man alive--I mean, I lead the most powerful country in the world; I definitely need to survive. So he grabbed a parachute and jumped. Then President Benson said to the boyscout, son, you take the last parachute. You've got your whole life ahead of you. And the boyscout said, no sir, there are 2 chutes left. We can both go. And President Benson said, no no there were only 3 parachutes and 2 are gone. And the boyscout said, yeah, except Mr. Clinton took my napsack.

2. Speaking of Bill... President Clinton was waiting in the stands to throw out the first pitch of baseball season, and he dozed off. When it was time to head to the field, one of his Secret Servicemen shook him and said, Mr. President, Mr. President, wake up. It's time to throw the first pitch. Bill, a little dazed, stood up, slung Hillary over his shoulder, and threw her onto the field. Then, the Secret Servicemen, astonished, said, No Bill! You were supposed to throw the First . . . . PITCH!

3. Ok one more because it's been so so long since they were applicable, and seriously, it doesn't matter if you're a democrat or a republican or a communist or whatever. Bill Clinton (and the wife) are just easy targets. So's GW (but he wasn't around when I was 12). Yay for America. Anyway, so Bill and Hillary are down in Arkansas and they stop at an old beaten-down gas station in the middle of nowhere. It turns out their gas jockey is one of Hillary's old flames. As they're driving away, Bill says, Boy did you get lucky! Imagine if you'd married him! And Hillary, confused, said, what do you mean? And Bill said, well... I'm the President of the United States! He's just a gas station worker! And Hillary chuckled and said, oh Bill... if I had married him, he'd be President of the United States.

4. What do you call a fish without an eye? A fshhhh . . . . . Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

5. And Finally. My favorite one of all. What did the fish say when it ran into a wall? "Dam." Ok, so what did the DAM say when the fish ran into it? "Dum-bass." Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

And the crappy day . . . . is practically forgotten! . . . . AND to wipe away the last remaining remanants . . . . . .

Ha ha ha ha ha ha. I hope so much that that's what I look like when I'm frustrated. Someone please tell me that angry Marie is that guy's twin.

Even better.... Jordan, I have this gut instinct that maybe you and he would be a match made in heaven... Think of the beautiful kids you could procreate.........

"We might die, but if we don't, the story will be awesome." "I'm in."

2007-12-28T17:13:00.000-05:00

We have dried mangos sitting on our kitchen counter. So, I decided to try one. This was a big step for me, because I really hate mangos. I used to like them, until I went to Africa. My friend Kacey and I adventured around Ghana together, and pretty much everyday, adorable little kids would run up to us and give us mangos they'd picked up off the ground (there were mango trees everywhere). The problem was, the mangos were always really overripe, and consequently tasted like window cleaner. However, because it was such a generous gesture, and because we looooved all the heartbreakingly sweet little kids, we ate those mangos everytime. As a result, once I returned to the States, I couldn't even look at a picture of a mango without shuddering and gagging a little. But I went to Ghana in 2004, so I thought, hey, maybe I'm ready. Maybe I've moved past the pain. The dried mangos were the big soft kind, and looked so so juicy on the counter. So I grabbed one, took a deep breath, closed my eyes and bit in.... and then ran to the trash can and spit it out. Nope. Still gross.

But, the mango encounter got me reminiscing about my crazy days on the Forgotten Continent. It reminded me of another encounter I had.... a hippo encounter.

Kace and I had just finished touring around this game reserve full of elephants and baboons. After biking with all our gear on our backs to the nearest town that had a bus stop (oh by the way we barely made the bus. In fact, we thought we'd missed it. The villagers said the one bus of the day had already come. So as we were arranging for a room for the night, we hear something very bus sounding chugging up the dirt road. I beelined outside to see what it was, while Kacey frantically packed up all our gear we'd just unloaded. Sure enough, it was the bus. Except, the bus really didn't want to wait for us. So, I physically put one foot and half my body into the bus, but kept the rest firmly planted on the ground outside, and tried to smile really big and say really nice things to the bus driver as Kace grabbed the rest of our stuff... then as she heaved herself onto the bus steps, he shut the door practically on top of her and off we went). Ok so as we're catching our breath on the [I kid you not] suspiciously yellow schooly-looking bus, here was our conversation:

Marie: "Hey Kace, I just found this place in our guidebook where you can see hippos in the wild. It's only about a day and a half out of our way. [Day and a half means probably something that's 100 miles away]. It's at the far north border of Ghana--- on the boundary of Burkina Faso. Wow, Burkina Faso is a country? That's so cool I've never heard of it. Anyway the guidebook says the village has some sort of compound thing for visitors to stay the night. We just have to catch like a bus to X and then a tro tro [truck with benches in the truck bed for people to sit upon] to Y and then walk to Z....."
Kace: "Hippos? Awesome! Let's do it."

So off we go. We get to the town after dark that night. We are directed to the compound, and it turns out they have random rooms for rent.... and inside the room, there are 2 mattresses on the concrete floor, filled with, I'd guess peanuts, and a chair. And a "shower room" which is an empty room with a bucket. And outhouses in the back. They charge us $2.50 EACH and I'm livid. I'd been paying a dollar a night for a hotel with a bed (maybe the occassional bedbug but still, a bed that was properly a few feet off the ground) and I do not like being ripped off. But it's our only option, so we take it. We throw our stuff on the cold hard ground and go back into the center of the compound to chill with all the old guys smoking and playing cards.

Then, the next morning, we wake up early, ready to find ourselves some Hippos. We ask around and find the Hippo Sanctuary building, (there were like probably 10 structures in the entire village so it wasn't that hard to find.... oh the coolest structure was this awesome African mosque-- Northern Ghana is really mainly Muslim--- and oh man oh man these sandy looking mosques are so incredible) but anyway so we go to the building and no one is there. So then there's a sign that says something like, "if no one is here, find Bob." Ha ha ha classic, so we start asking around for Bob and eventually we're led to this hut and we knock and this like 17 year old kid comes out, bleary eyed having been woken up, and says, yes I'm Bob, Ok you want to see the hippos, Ok. So then he does his thing and all of a sudden a couple other people appear and we're in business. They outfit us with sweet bikes. Not 10 speed bikes. Just like regular little girl bikes. A basket cost extra, so no baskets for us... we are cheap students. We just carry our backpacks on our backs. We are tough like that.

So it turns out we have to bike to the river where the hippos live. So we're on this bike ride, which turns out to be like the hardest physical exertion I've ever encountered. At first the road is dirt and so fairly easy to navigate. But then all of a sudden we're in the African bush which alternates between high high weedy grass, that whipps against our legs and stings, and sand, and these ledges and then forest and wow. On a little girl bike. In like 120 degree weather. Kacey's tire goes flat, ha ha ha ha ha, sorry Kace it was not funny at the time but man it's funny now. So poor Kace [we didn't realize the tire was flat] is trying to do this with the force of only one tire. I don't know how she did it because I was dying with 2 tires. So we get to this spot by the river and all of a sudden our guide disappears. And I realize, A. our guide could kill us and no one would know we were even here, B. our guide could run away and we would have no idea where we are in the middle of the African bush. So, I grab our video camera and have a little Blair Witch moment which is pretty awesome. And then our guide comes back and informs us the hippos aren't there so we'll have to go to a different spot in the river.

So, we heft ourselves back on our bikes and almost die. But we make it. And then drink a lot of water as our guide looks for one of the local fisherman. By the way, while were were waiting, a bunch of villagers came out to look at us, and you know how you see some tribes with marks on their faces-- like they needle their faces and stuff for religious reasons? This was one of those tribes. So all these little kids had those marks. It was kind of eerie.

So then a fisherman appears, and gives us each a life jacket, and the fisherman, the guide, Kacey and I climb into the fisherman's canoe. And off we go. Into this muddy muddy dark river. Oh and they tell us there are crocodiles in the river, and you literally can not see A THING in the water because it's so brown, so.... I think to myself, "wow, a crocodile could probably sneak up right behind us and we'd never know... until he attacked." And then I think, "eh. What are the odds. That'll never happen." And that pretty much sums up my attitude in Africa, which probably wasn't the smartest-- but allowed for some excellent exploits.

So we make our way down the river, and eventually stop. And in the distance is a hippo. We can't get closer than about 30 feet because I guess sometimes the hippos mistake canoes for rival hippos and attack. And apparently that's really bad. I didn't realize the full weight of how bad it can be until after I returned to the States and happened to see this documetnary on hippos and how they kill more people than like sharks every year by ramming their ginormous bodies into boats and stuff. But anyway, we can't get too close. But we get close enough. To see this monster just barely peering above the water. Looking right at us. All we can see are the eyes and the ears. And so we watch it for a minute. All around us, it's almost silent. All you can hear is a the occasional bird and the river water ever so slightly hitting the canoe. Everything seems still. Including the monster, which kind of looks like this:

And then it turns around and dives deep into the water and we get a great view to of its behind. And then the fisherman, I think starts to worry that maybe we are making the Giant uncomfortable, so we head back. [I think we saw another hippo a few minutes later but now I can't remember]. So we slowly make our way back... every once in awhile sort of nonchalantly glancing over our shoulders in case the monster has decided he's mad at us afterall. Then, all of a sudden, we notice that there is water up to our ankles. Yup, our canoe has a leak. So the fisherman keeps rowing as our guide cups his hands and starts bailing the muddy brown water out of the canoe and back into the river where it belongs. And then we get stuck on a big giant rock (for a second I think it's a hippo and it was awesome but also a bit frightening) and before I know it our fisherman has jumped out of the canoe into the crocodile-invested muddy brown water and is heaving us off the rock. As the guide keeps bailing out water. And finally we make it back to the river bank. And back on our bikes. And back to the village. And by then we are sunburnt and thirsty and exhausted and ready to get outta there. And there is a tro tro sitting there, but they won't ever leave until they're FULL. And we're like, dude, like 30 people live in this whole village-- this tro tro is not gonna fill up anytime soon. But the driver refuses to budge. So we buy bread, but it's gross, but we eat it anyway, with our little jars of peanut butter that we carry everywhere, and we wait. And eventually, after dark, that tro tro magically filled up, and we make our way back to another town big enough for a bus stop.

And then I write my mom an email about the adventure the next day and she e-yells at me about being so reckless. But like I said, it was pretty awesome. Worth every (slightly) dangerous moment. Man I miss Africa!

Mommy, who's the scary man on the coffeetable?

2007-12-20T01:19:00.000-05:00

Vladimir Putin. Time Magazine's Person of the Year. A lot of people are disgusted. But come on guys, Time has been infatuated with evil dictators (please let's not pretend that Russia is democratic) for a long long time. Time likes to generate revenue, and controversy sells magazines. They made Hitler Man of the Year. And Stalin. I don't think anyone would ever accuse the editors of Timey Time of having any good sense---or any relationship with reality.

My point is, there's no need to take the slimy, scheming, agenda-filled paper pushers at Time Magazine seriously. They're a joke. BUT, I do have one concern about this latest debacle. I'm uneasy for all the little kids of America. Sweet sweet little kids, who just like to play roller hockey in their cul-de-sacs and make teeny weeny brownies in their easy bake ovens. Because when these innocent little kiddies open their mailboxes, all bright eyed and hoping for maybe a Christmas present from Grandma or their latest Netflix Disney DVD, instead, their poor little senses are going to be shocked with this:

AHHHHHHH!!! Can you hear the screaming? Can you hear the shrieks coming from those teensy-tiny lungs? If you're going to come face to face with a face, that is not the face I'd want to be faced with. Especially as a 7 year old. It's going to be an epidemic. There won't be any escaping. At the grocery store checkout. In the dentist waiting room (which is really below the belt since those kids are already terrified enough). Some of them will avoid the mailbox scare, only to be attacked inside their own homes, at the safest of safe zones: the kitchen counter. Freckly-faced Freddy bounces in for an after school snack, and BAM:

Holy Terrifying Batman! Our kids are already growing up too fast. They're constantly hearing about wars and the bird flu and how the world is going to self destruct before they reach puberty. Geez Time, could you cut them some slack? Really, do you need to give them something else to shiver under the covers about? That, my friend, is irresponsible journalism.

I have a suggestion for the pipsqueek underwhelming Time Magazine honchos hovering and plotting in a back room: next time, how about a pleasant face? For example, you could never go wrong with this:

Holy Gorgeous Batman. He's welcome in my kitchen ANY day. Preferably in person. In a towel. Oh ok a swimsuit.

Scroll back up and look at Scary McPsycho. Then scroll down and compare him to Hottie McHandsome. For the sake of the kids, can we please, in the future, just Bale it? As they squint their little eyelashes shut each night, let's give them something sweet to dream about. And me too.

A Favourite... Across the Pond

2007-12-14T04:37:00.000-05:00

The day I was introduced to the brilliance of Mr. Gerard Baker ranks among the best days of my life-- right up there with the day I discovered Banana Republic coats [and also the day I decifered their sale-cycles], the day I discovered Tasti D-Lite [http://www.tastidlite.com/], and the day I discovered McSteamy on Grey's Anatomy.

Mr. Baker is a columnist who resides in London. He is a full-fledged Brit. And he is held in great esteem by all those Union Jack loving Mother Country-ers ... as an expert on .... America. Specifically, American politics. And let me tell you, this guy possesses talent of a stunning magnitude. He is absoutely masterful at somehow marrying remarkably pointed sarcasm with exceptionally clever prose.

His latest column just put me over the top. I can't subdue the enthusiasm any longer. I officially, on the record, so much so that I would, if given the chance, probably go on a date him even though he's a middle-aged balding guy with what looks to be a ginormous forehead LOVE THIS GUY!

If you squint, he could totally double as McSteamy! In a Mikhail Gorbachev sort of way. Wait wait wait. I just googled Gorbachev. That's the wrong guy. I was thinking of Boris Yeltsin.

Ha ha ha ha, yep that's him. Gotta love that shiny shiny forehead.

Anyway, today's beast, titled, "Huckaboom to Huckabust?" begins:

"Huckabee. It sounds like one of those American restaurant chains popular across the South, the kind of place where on All You Can Eat Tuesdays the patrons down buckets of barbecued ribs and fried chicken while sucking on 32-ounce tumblers of diet soda. Then again, it could be a character from a Mark Twain novel, or a predictably contrived name in the first line of one of those obscene limericks written by bored schoolboys. But President Huckabee, commander-in-chief, leader of the free world?" http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/columnists/gerard_baker/article3048256.ece

If that doesn't simultaneously make you want to chuckle heartily out loud and also to keep voraciously reading.... well... just don't crush my ebbullience by telling me.

Mr. Baker publishes every Friday in the London Times. So, even though Friday has been my favoUrite day since Kindergarten, when I realized that, playing with playdough in scheduled intervals really kind of ruins the ride, and therefore, Friday meant a solid 48 hours of freedom, this clinches it. Whatever small part of me maybe thought there was a viable argument that Saturday was better (you get to sleep in... but then you have to do chores) or OK to save face for the persnickety reader, that Sunday was the best day ever.... yeah, those arguments are ANNIHILATED. Friday wins. Unless Greys Anatomy moves to Saturday nights. Then, it might become a toss up.

EGGS-cellent......

2007-12-11T18:26:00.000-05:00

In the wake of the tragedy that was yesterday's final [based on previous posts, we probably all could have predicted that. Except seriously guys, in between all the time wasting, I really did study my A off and now it turns out it was all for nothing since the final was this ridiculous monstrosity of vagueness and confusion, intermixed with trickery and plain horror. I can hear my teacher cackling hideously from the depths of his chamber-like office now {actually his office is just a boring white-walled messy square room with a window and buzzing fluorescent lights. But that imagery does not work with the picture I am trying to convey}]. Ok so anyway, in an attempt to move past the discouragement, I've been trying to think of happy things all day. Which brought me to this summer in Australia-- a time of carefree fun and adventuring. Many of you know I have some killer stories from my time Down Under (remember when I scuba'd with giant sea-turtles at the great barrier reef and it was totally awesome?) but I don't think anyone knows this one... which happens to be one of my favorites.

My boss, his wife, another lawyer, his wife, another lawyer and I all went down to Melbourne from Sydney for a long weekend (Melbourne is about a 10 hour drive). We went for this law conference, but while we were down there, we also visited this cattle farm, because there was some legal stuff (actually quite interesting legal stuff, believe it or not) that we had to figure out. It was this big ginormous several-hundred-acre farm, where they raise cattle for Wagyu beef (mmmmm my mouth is watering just THINKING about Wagyu.... soooo tasty... trust me, if you've had it, you know what I'm talking about. I think we call it Kobe beef in the U.S. which is sad because Wagyu is way awesomer sounding http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wagyu).

Ok so anyway, we had to spend the night on the farm. But where do you sleep when you're on a giant farm [that reeked of cow smell... yikes... but when I went running in the morning I encountered dozens of kangaroos hopping all around me-- one with a little joey {baby kangaroo} in her pouch--so it was definitely worth the stench]? Well in the built-in-the-1800's drafty old farmhouse, of course, that looked very haunted. [It was so cool]. So, four of us all cozied up in the big baby-blue rambler. Well what do you do pre-bedtime in a haunted house with no TV? Tell stories of course. Would've been awesome if we'd told scary stories, but my three housemates were all like 60+ so I thought they would laugh at me if I said, bursting with enthusiasm, "guys, let's totally tell ghost stories. We can turn off all the lights and snuggle and..." In hindsight, I probably should've suggested it. I mean if people judge, they judge, right? Well, instead, we were just chatting about random stuff. Oh by the way, the laywer and his wife-- they were a senior missionary couple, which isn't really relevant but still makes it kind of funny. We started talking about funny Aussie words and phrases. We went through the typical, "how're you going" [love love that one] and "heaps" and how "rooting" means something nasty, which I learned after I asked someone which rugby team they were "rooting" for and everyone started giggling.

And so then the sister missionary [picture a sweet old lady, in missionary garb, complete with the tag] is telling this story about her first time at an Aussie grocery store. And she asked a grocery bagger where she could find the eggs. And he said, oh, the "bomph nuphs" are on aisle 16. And I said, wait, what did he call them, I didn't catch that. And she said, slower, carefully enunciating each word... "He told me the..... BUM NUTS are on aisle 16." Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Our laughs echoed through that old spooky house for quite awhile. Man I miss Australia.

Girl: So could we have, um, a talk? Guy: Runs away screaming, hands flailing in the air.

2007-12-07T20:02:00.000-05:00

Ladies, have you ever been dating a guy, or even flirting with a guy (for weeks…. and weeks… and weeks… trying to “enjoy” the buildup but really just thinking, super dork GET ON with it already, I’m sick of pretending to think ALL your jokes and mini-stories are funny—they’re not that funny) and had a moment (or many) where you just so very badly wanted to SHAKE him VIGOROUSLY and say ENOUGH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I DON’T UNDERSTAND. I DON’T UNDERSTAND, BASED ON YOUR ACTIONS, how you feel about me, what you want from me, if you’re even into me… yada yada yada yada. If you haven’t, then either you are the luckiest girl in the world……. or you’re dating gay guys. Because a lot of heterosexual guys… well… they’re IMPOSSIBLE! I’m not saying girls don’t have their faults too. We do. But it’s not nearly as fun to talk about my own shortcomings (like, sometimes I’m just TOO thoughtful. Ha ha ha.) Ok but seriously, ladies I’ve had a breakthrough about guys and their inability to express their feelings. And it came, thanks to a TV show. Many of you scoff. Many of you scorn. Many of you think it’s a waste of time. Many of you think your intellect is insulted by even the thought of watching too much of such drivel [“Yeah I don’t really watch TV, I just really don’t have time. I’m too busy at the homeless shelter and writing the next great American novel.” YEAH RIGHT. Everyone has time to watch a little TV. And everyone does watch a little TV. You don’t have to own-up to watching Lifetime, Television for Women {I will, proudly. One of my favorite Christmas Break traditions is watching made-for-TV movie after campy-bad-acting-awful-writing-made-for-TV movie about “real” women}. But please stop pretending that you NEVER watch TV. That’s an insult to my intellect.] Anyway, judge as you will. But the boob tube taught me something.

And you know what? It didn’t even come from a respectable regular season show. It came from the worst of the worst of TV [other than America’s Funniest Commercials… AHHHHHH]—the rehash episode. Yes, it was a reunion episode, AND further, the most pathetic kind of reunion episode. Any reunion episode is rife with awkwardness: a bunch of people who used to kind of be famous, who are now old , wrinkled, and worst of all, gasp, fat, all a bit uncomfortable to be in front of the cameras again after so so so many years, but still happy to indulge in glory-days reminiscence. Fans of the show, also now old, wrinkled, and fattened up, tune-in eagerly to see their beloved characters back together [old guy chuckles and slaps his knee "that Fonzi, he was always such a card!" how do i know he's old? by his use of the word "card"]—but they’re always disappointed. The less important characters always monopolize the time. Marsha from the Brady Bunch looks on contentedly while Ann B. Davis engages in a painfully detailed analysis of her character Alice’s metaphysical development during her on-again-off-again relationship with Sam the Butcher. Or Bobby chimes in about what it was like to grow up on set. Nobody cares Bobby--- you were too young to have nearly the impact that Greg did. We want to hear from Greg! [P.S. did anyone else have a slight crush on him and his oh-so-sexy almost-afro? No? Just me?]

Ha ha ha ha I hope you guys know I was kidding.

Anyway, it wasn’t even that kind of reunion episode. It wasn’t a gathering of people who were reasonably famous, who haven’t been in the same room for 20 years, who can now look back on their iconic show and die with serene smiles on their faces knowing it will be remembered and revered in pop culture history forever. Yeah, it wasn’t one of those shows. It was a Reality TV reunion episode—The Bachelor: After the Final Rose [enter dramatic music]. The people in that show aren’t anywhere near recognizable enough to be called anything remotely resembling a celebrity. Most Americans couldn’t tell you the latest Bachelor’s name [fun game, try naming the last four Bachelors. And now give up. Not happening]. Let alone the final two girls he dumped. There's no way anyone will remember these people in 10 years. Which is why this reunion episode didn’t happen after a long-awaited decade absence. It happened a DAY after the regular show’s finale—granted, an excruciatingly slow day for many many women, who tried, fruitlessly, to deny the anticipation in their fluttering hearts… as they waited, longingly, to hear THE DIRT.

I didn’t watch many episodes of this season’s Bachelor, not because I thought my intellect would be insulted, but because I thought most of the girls were even more hussy-esque than usual, and I thought the guy, while very very…. very very…. very handsome, was kind of a dufus.
But, my mom watched the season, and I happened to be home on the day of the reunion episode, and so, happy for a little mother/daughter quality time, I squished next to her on our big soft sofa chair--- ready to laugh at the silly, mindless analysis of “what went wrong.”

So what went wrong? Well, for those of you who, oh I don’t know, aren’t up on your US Magazine gossip [losers], this Bachelor season was SHOCKING. UNPRECEDENTED. CHANGED THE COURSE OF PRIMETIME, FOREVER as MILLIONS OF WOMEN WERE CRUSHED… AFTER LEARNING THEIR FAITH in the notion that YOU CAN FIND TRUE LOVE ON NATIONAL TELEVISION turned out to be a NAÏVE DREAM ALL ALONG. Because, in a bold move, which ended up making him pretty much the most hated man in America, the Bachelor DIDN’T CHOOSE ANY OF THE GIRLS. The man REJECTED all 25 bachelorettes. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Suckas!

Ok but actually, while this is of course, pretty hilarious in some ways, it’s also extremely frustrating. Why? Because, this guy is CLASSIC. Typical, selfish, too-caught-up-in-his-own-world-of-how-wonderful-he-is-mr. charming-tons of-girls-fawn-all-over-him-so-therefore-he-must-be-the-center-of-the-universe jerk. Stupid guy, pick a freaking girl. You had 25 beautiful (ok maybe not 25, but at least 6 or 7 of them were probably pretty smokin’), smart (at least 2 or 3), confident (all 25 because, seriously… to go on that show? You’ve gotta think you’re something special) women. PICK ONE. I’m not saying propose to her. Clearly, courting in front of dozens of cameras, narrowing down your feed-lot one by one each week, flying on a whim to Paris to try some Gouda, is NOT real life. Obviously, it would be difficult to know if your “relationship” in dreamland would actually translate into normal life. But holy cow. THE WHOLE POINT IS TO FIND A GIRLFRIEND. PICK SOMEONE AND SAY, OK, let’s try this out in the real world. I’m not going to propose to you, but I'm excited about you enough to try it out “After the Rose.”

But here’s the kick in the stomach. Jerky McJerk Jerk had already gone through more hopeful, wistful girls than Mr. Big-Willy Clinton. He'd already drawn the ire of every female audience member [aka every audience member] across the entire country. Boos abound. Disgust all around. But then, he goes on the reunion episode, and MAKES IT WORSE, by telling one of the finalists, “I think about you everyday.” WHAT the H does that mean??? You reject her. You don’t care about her enough to fight AT ALL for her, in fact, you let her walk out of your life knowing full well you'll likely never see her again [after the reunion], but then you embrace her warmly and say “I know you don't think I care about you, but please believe me, I really really do. I still think about you everyday.” "Oh but yeah I still don't want to date you." She called him on it. I was cheering. Cheering. She actually said, “what does that even mean [you jerkface!..... Ok that was just in my head]?” And he, brilliantly, answered “I don’t know.” AHHHHHHHHHHHHH. She asked again. She tried desperately to figure out why she wasn't good enough. Why he didn't want her. And He Could Not Answer. Because the thing is, she is good enough. She is exceptional. But he still couldn't muster enough care to even try and make it work. As he said, "Clearly, I have some issues." Now, I don't know the guy, and I'm no freaky-deaky psychologist, but I'm gonna go out on a limb and speculate that his "issue" is that he has never been able to be unselfish enough to really see beyond himself, he has never been able to get excited about someone else, really excited, because you can't get excited like that unless you're being thoughtful, thinking about the other person--and not just primarily about yourself.

And with that, I was validated. Because ladies, it happens. It happens to the size zero professional cheerleader who actually, it turns out, wasn’t a complete idiot—who actually, had a lot to offer. It happens to the size zero successful busineswoman. It happens to a lot of us. Guys are confusing. They send mixed signals. They often can't (or won't) verbalize what they're thinking. And if they’re selfish on top of it… oh boy…. it’s a recipe for disaster.

The good news is, not ALL guys are crap. And besides that, though a guy may not be the best fit for one girl, when he finds someone who’s better suited for him, hopefully, it will all work out. So I still have hope. Plus, if all else fails, maybe I can finagle a role as the next Bachelorette. I, unlike Jerky McJerkface, would ACTUALLY CHOOSE a [hot] guy. AND live happily… ever… after. Like Trista and Ryan.

Jennifer Aniston or Katie Couric? Maybe I'll Go with the One Who Snagged Brad Pitt.

2007-12-04T15:10:00.000-05:00

There are some things I miss about being a broadcast journalist. There are some things I don't miss. I very much do not miss anchor bobs. Allow me to explain. There is a loosely-held consensus among tv news experts that long hair looks messy, distracting, and unprofessional on camera. And so, many many female news anchors sport short, ugly, out-of-style, unflattering bob hair-cuts. [For the record, not all bobs are ugly. Many people have very cute short hair. But a lot of anchors don't.] During my undergrad years, our professors dashed many a bright-eyed aspiring anchor's exuberance by repeatedly rhetoric-ing, "Cut Your Hair!"

I can't tell you how many times I would go into a professor's [I use the term loosely] office to get feedback about a news story I'd done, hear no suggestions about the content of the story, and instead be privy to insightfulness worthy of Yoda: "Your hair is too long. We aren't looking for Jennifer Aniston. We're looking for Katie Couric."

And so, yes, for the the love of the industry, I finally embraced the propaganda.... One day, I walked into my salon, tried to forget all the many many pictures of Ms. Aniston I'd brought to countless hairdressers over the years as examples of how I wanted them to cut my hair, and walked out ... a credible newswoman [relatively speaking]. It was 2004, and I had [it turns out] reached the pinnacle of my on-air career. After years of chafing away as the weather girl, or the field reporter, I had finally made it to the big top. I was a co-anchor for BYU's daily television newscast. And I looked the part... as shown in this little gem I recently unearthed....

Ha ha ha ha. Wow. Luckily, I detested every second of anchoring, and was happy when it ended. I was especially happy to grow my hair again. To this day, I still relish every inch of my ever lengthening blonde mane.

One thing I do acutely miss, though, is the chance to find, and subsequently air, good kickers. The kicker is the story at the very end of the newscast-- it's offbeat, or funny, or crazy, etc. During my entire producing carreer-- the best part of my day, everyday, was indulging in the search for a truly awesome kicker story, and then brainstorming ways to make the awesomeness translate into pure hilarity on-air.

Yesterday I found a story that made me wish with all my heart that I still had a show to produce: "Why bad kissers don't get to second base." http://www.cnn.com/2007/LIVING/personal/12/03/bad.kissers/index.html?iref=newssearch

One of the greatest things about TV news is you have just endless different elements to make the news interesting, compelling, and exciting. And so, you can start with a funny idea [aka, exactly how important is kissing, and what are some sure signs of a bad kisser?], and take off running. As soon as I saw this story, I instinctively began thinking about all the fun I could have had with it. Here's what I would have done--- by the way, this, folks, believe it or not... is just the start... but you get the idea.

1. Going into commercial breaks leading up to the story, I would have found a way to incorporate iconic kisses from famous movies.

2. There would have been a sweet graphic-- "Savvy Smooching" or something like that. [I got a kick out of any and all alliteration.]

3. There most definitely would have been puns. Puns galore. I loved puns as a producer, even more than I loved alliteration. I loved making my anchors read crazy cheesy puns. I loved watching the embarassed, sheepish looks they'd get on their faces as they'd recite 'em off the teleprompter. I loved chuckling for the rest of the day as I'd recount the cleverest of puns to all my family members. Puns... are good tv. "Apparently, the importance of being a good kisser isn't just lip service." Ha ha ha ha. Perhaps not my best, but I'm out of practice.

4. I also would have had an editor dig up the scene from "Friends" [allowed because I worked for an NBC affiliate!] where Chandler is dating Monica but they don't want people to know, and then Phoebe and Rachel figure it out ("they don't know we know they know we know!") and so Phoebe messes with Chandler by pretending to be interested in him, but Chandler won't admit he's dating Monica, so he and Phoebe end up engaging in this incredibly awkward kiss....

Anchor A: "Many of us have had a kiss that was just downright awful."

Anchor B chimes in: "I sure have!"

Anchor A: "So this morning, we're sending you off with some tips on how to avoid... this.... [Show "Friends" clip.]

(P.S. I tried to find the clip online, and did, but I couldn't find the kiss by itself and the dialogue before and after is a little raunchy so no luck. Please enjoy these pictures instead.)

Kickers may not be hard-hitting news. They may not contain the most important information a person is going to hear that day. They may be silly, and trivial, and superfluous. But kickers, at least good, thoughtful kickers [not stupid waterskiing squirrels kickers] make people laugh. They make people smile. They make for some pizazz in life. And sometimes, the best, most well-delivered kicker can make people's day. They certainly often made mine. Why? In a sense, it's again a proverbial choice between Katie Couric and Jennifer Aniston. What would I rather watch: Katie Couric's entire, boring, dry [but informative] nightly news report, or a funny story that includes a clip from a "Friends" episode? Though my head would tell me I would benefit more from the substance in the newscast, my heart is probably going to choose the wacky story... every single time.

Though I'm no longer a producer, I'll try one last time to add a little joy to the world [ha ha Christmas Pun in December... It's coming back to me!]. Here is the hands-down winning kicker of the day; I highly highly highly recommend you check it out.

Presidential Pong : http://www.cnn.com/ELECTION/2008/presidential.pong/

The hardest question I was asked on a final when I majored in Broadcast Journalism: "Do Matt Lauer's suits make him look TOO metrosexual? Discuss."

2007-12-03T20:16:00.000-05:00

Therefore, needless to say... law school finals have been a painfully awful awakening.

Last year during finals I discovered facebook. I mean I was already a member of facebook, but during finals, desperate for even the smallest, most trivial distraction, I discovered facebook's true potential. I gleefully filled out my profile, posted pictures, wrote on people's walls like it was going out of style, etc. etc. etc.

My point is, this year, facebook is old news for me. So.... in, once again, a desperate attempt for anything that gives me even a small rationalization to stop studying (or refrain from starting to study) I am STARTING A BLOG. What am I going to blog about? I have no idea. I don't have kids. I don't have a job. I don't even have a pet. Man, I don't even have a plant. Unless you count whatever is growing in my garbage disposal that smells really bad-- I guess technically it's probably a living thing, but it would be gross to blog about that.

For now, I'll blog about what I know. AKA, law school finals. Which I hate. With a passion. My entire demeanor changes during finals. It's ridiculous. And bizarre. I freak out. No one else seems to freak out like I do. Maybe they are on the inside, and I don't know. I do know my insides are all tied up in knots, making it hard to even eat (and anyone who knows me knows how shocking that is. Don't worry, I still dig deep and somehow find it in me to "taste" a few Oreos now and again, but not that many, believe it or not.) The bottom line is, I Hate Finals.

For example, as I have said before, I do not enjoy the law school hag who, like magical clockwork, appears during the dreadfulness that is the end of every semester. I like pretty makeup! I like showers [and smelling nice]. I do NOT like wearing my grandma-y reading glasses all day long, nor do I like that everytime I look in the mirror, I conjur images of the scary old warty witch character villified in children's books [sans warts at least, but still]...

Mainly I just hate being forced to sit still and study and think really really really hard ALLLLLL DAY. It drives me nuts. How nuts?

Here are some things I documented that I did last year to avoid studying for finals.

(To set the scene, imagine spending 3 weeks locked in your tiny bedroom... in Provo Utah... in a frantic attempt to memorize hundreds of pages...)

1. Opened mail addressed to former occupants of my apartment. [**Disclaimer, this is NOT a legal admission. So, on the record, for anyone who ever tries to use this against me in a court of law, I was kidding about the whole mail thing. Therefore, Hearsay Rule 801(d)(2) or whatever else can bite me.] One letter turned out to be a Christmas card. From someone I don't know and will never meet, addressed to someone I don't know and will never meet. I read the letter. And enjoyed it. [Again, this is a joke; this is not based on true events.]
2. Clicked on my friends' facebook profiles... and then clicked on photo albums of their friends. Again, people I don't know and will never meet. And again, I enjoyed it. [This one is true].
3. Cleaned my bathtub. Twice... in two weeks. It was really moldy. But not anymore. [True]
4. Went to the grocery store almost every day in order to re-stock my diet coke supply. I purposefully didn't buy too much at once so I'd have an excuse to go out for something "urgent." [Very true].

So far this year, I have:

1. Read every ounce of news (including celebrity news... but admittedly I totally read that stuff even when its not finals) I can find.
2. Taken random Facebook tests that make you add those annoying applications which I then have to delete because I don't want "Movie Trivia!!" and "Which Side of the Brain Are You!" clogging up my extremely thoughtful and witty profile page.
3. Re-read EVERY email I sent to my mom while I lived in Australia this summer. Granted, there was some juicy analysis in there about this guy I was dating, but seriously? Every email?
4. Figured out that a 2 Liter bottle of Diet Coke contains an amount of caffeine equivalent to about 1.5 cups of coffee [chump change! people drink that much coffee in practically one gulp!], which pretty much justified my existence and stamped out any tiny remaining puny argument that Diet Coke is dangerous.

5. Elfed Myself. Well, elfed my little brothers and sisters. Trust me, you're gonna want to, too.
http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1156405597

And now, back to studying. I've wasted almost the whole day [mainly because I actually showered this afternoon.]. Luckily, between the Diet Coke and the crippling worry that I'll fail all my tests and become the laughingstock of the universe, I can't sleep at night anyway-- so I've got plenty of time.