A Note to my Readers

Sorry. I'm Busy. More tomorrow.

A Note From Myself

Dear Audrey,

We need to talk.

I know, you've been extremely busy at work. You barely have a minute to steal away from your desk for lunch. And all those emails (and blogs and newspapers) are very important.

When you do go to get lunch, you often let your coworkers dictate the destination. Following their lead often results in poor culinary and monetary combinations - like an impulse decision to spend $9.50 on a burrito at Chipotle. (Damn you, guacamole!)

I know, you don't have a lot of time and you want to save money. Perish the thought of ordering in to the office.

But you really need to stop being such a lazy cheapskate. It is not ok, I repeat NOT OK to turn the free office snacks into your lunch. Two Cup-a-Soup packets plus one Nutrigrain bar and a Twizzler does not equal lunch! Don't you know that Cup-a-Soup packets are for the 3pm slump? Everyone knows that! And those delis across the street are hardly further away from your desk than the bathroom. Sheesh.

Thanks for your prompt attention to this matter. I hope we can continue to be a productive and harmonious team this year.

Best,

Self.

I Have a Job For You

I know, dear readers, I ask too much of you. I ask you dumb questions, beg you to reveal your identities, I make you suggest bars for me, find coffeehouses for me, and one time I even promised to buy you coffee in exchange. (I promise I will in January!)

So what delightful task have I devised?

Why, guest-posting on LowConcept, of course.

Eligibility: No Bloggers. Why? Because bloggers already have their own personal soapboxes. Guest blogging is for those who have never experienced the megalomaniac high that comes with putting up a new post. Charitable person that I am, I want to spread the joy.

It's the holiday season. It's the least I can do.

Corollary: You do not need to know me personally. I will accept guest entries from from unknown readers.

But: They can't be anonymous. Too weird.

Suggestion: If I've given you a nickname or mentioned you on LowConcept in the past, you will be given priority. For two reasons: I want to allow my cast of characters to speak for themselves. Also, it's the least I can do after publicly mocking my friends.

Terms and Conditions: I retain the right to modify libelous, defamatory, harmful, inappropriate or excessively embarrassing content. Be nice. You know the invisible bounds of my blog. Be appropriate in your treatment of borderline subjects and use your judgement to avoid those that cross the line.

Rules: Observe the standard written conventions of English. If you use bad grammar, I will cry. If you do it deliberately, we will not be friends anymore.

Official Application Form:

Just ask me. As in, there's no form. If I don't know you, I may want to know a little bit more about who in the world you are, but nothing too personal. Don't worry.

Thanksgiving Haiku Review

(You have no idea how pleased I am with myself when I make something rhyme.)

After spending Wednesday evening through Monday morning at my parents' house in the Bestchester sitting around in my pajamas and typing furious at my laptop, I report the following:

Bestchester "nightlife"

Drive home from a friend's -
3 am Friday finds *real*
Deer in the headlights

23 going on 16

Younger brother's "date"
Was it or wasn't it one?
My life asks the same.

Difficulties and Frustrations

Grad applications
More and more hoops to jump through
My profs. *need* two stamps?

Parents

Like high school, only -
"You're wearing that to *work*?" just
Shabby, not slutty.

A New Kind of Affliction

You may recall that, at times, I can be a bit of a hypochondriac. And by "a bit," I mean that WebMD should really be on my Blogroll.

Thankfully, I have been quite well as of late. Since early September (coincidence?) I've been extremely diligent about my exercise/nutrition/sleep/intellectual stimulation routine. Ever since I realized that consuming a gallon and a half of water a day at Burning Man made me happy as a clam, I've tried my best to adhere to mens sana in corpore sano.

Unfortunately, I have a penchant for staying out until 4 am on the weekends with a certain crowd and a well-documented procrastination streak. A dangerous combination when one decides to take on personal projects with deadlines - like classes and applications.

And so it was that last Thursday morning, after feeling vaguely off for two days, I awoke with a lovely case of what I knew could become tonsillitis. Fever, swollen tonsils, no congestion - I remembered it from college. I had it during spring finals one year after a week of parties and drinking followed by late nights studying and no time spent catching up on sleep. My tonsils swelled to the point that swallowing water was painful. I know - I am brilliant. Hence, I now run to the doctor every time I decide that my ears look lopsided.

I called in to work and hightailed it to the doctor, who took one look at my tonsils and jumped back a good three feet. "Penicillin!" she cried, and I was pleased that I would not have to miss my much-anticipated fake football game.

The doctor explained to me that tonsillitis is just a name for an exacerbated form of strep throat. Huh. Chris had strep back in September and he has a similarly lively lifestyle.

Huh. Could it be that blogging gave me strep throat?

The best part is that the throat culture the doctor took from my tonsils last Thursday came back negative - which means that my doctor either took a poor sample or I had some sort of viral something or other, or I am crazy. (No, it is not mono, I had blood work done.)

I ask you: Is this Blogger's Complaint?

Needless to say, I am seriously reconsidering my lifestyle choices as we speak. Correlation without causation be damned! I am risking my life for you every day writing this thing! I think I deserve two days off!

Hippy Dippy Toilet Paper Paradox

My office recently switched to "environmentally friendly" paper products in the bathroom. These "green" paper products are made from some percentage, I think 30%, of "post consumer recycled material." I believe it's part of the building owner's initiative to garner the building an Energy Star rating. Cool, right? (I mean, everyone is talking about toilet paper these days.)

Both the paper towels and the toilet paper are now a subtle shade cream, or perhaps a pale khaki flecked with caramel - or dare I say, eggshell.

At least, the consistency of the paper resembles an eggshell. Ouch.

Another fun feature: a complete and utter lack of absorbency. Now, instead of using one paper towel to dry my hands, I need to use three. Assuming my guess of 30% recycled content is correct - and no, I am not getting up to check the little stickers they put in the restroom right now - you do the math: I'm using 110% more new paper towel than I was with the old 100% fresh-dead-tree paper towels.

Honestly, I've never understood recycled paper. The chemicals required to clean and bleach the paper pulp are so hazardous to the environment that it is questionable if the process is doing more harm than good. It's not nearly as elegant as recycling, say, aluminum, which simply melts. With regards to paper, we would be much better off reusing and reducing - the other two of the three R's.

Do pirates reduce, reuse and recycle? The three aarrrr's? Ok, ok, bad pun.

And now I've guilted myself into using one crappy hippy dippy paper towel instead of three.

Thank you, corporate America, for the unwanted exfoliation and the guilty conscious.

More Pork on Your Fork (Or in your Drink)

Apropos of nothing, the NY Times Sunday Styles section printed the following article on - you guessed it - pork-infused drinks. Further proof that even when I am going out of my way to be contrary, I can't help but be avant-garde.

A more likely story is that the Sunday Styles section shouldn't be trusted.


November 19, 2006
Shaken and Stirred
Carnivores in Margaritaville
By JONATHAN MILES

BACK in August, a man identifying himself as Andrew Fenton of Philadelphia stumped, thrilled and mildly sickened the cocktail wing of the eGullet Society for Culinary Arts and Letters, an online forum, by posting news of a creation he called Weeniecello. The concoction, he said, results from soaking Hebrew National hot dogs in 100-proof vodka for five weeks, yielding an infused vodka with, according to Mr. Fenton, “a fine beefy taste, with a hint of salt and gentle spiciness.”

His inspiration, he said, came at a barbecue, when he realized that the only thing detracting from the experience was that he was continually forced to put his cocktail down in order to eat. “You can see the dilemma,” he wrote.

A hoax?

Perhaps, though Mr. Fenton offered photos as proof. As one typical comment went: “It is either brilliant or insane.”

The line between brilliance and insanity, history shows us, is fragile; the line between meat and liquor, less so. But that may be changing.

At the Double Down Saloon on Avenue A, off Houston, a proud dive bar devoted to punkish excess, bacon-infused vodka goes into bloody marys, martinis and shot glasses, staving off protein deficiencies during the bar’s seven-hour happy hour.

Far less anarchic — in fact, downright refined — is the pork-rimmed margarita that made its debut at Porchetta, a five-month-old restaurant on Smith Street in Brooklyn.

Inside the glass is a familiar margarita made with smoky añejo tequila, Cointreau and lime and tangerine juices. Clinging to the outside, however, is a rim of crushed pork cracklings spiced with ground chiles de árbol.

You don’t taste the pork, at first, sensing instead an indecipherable richness, a pleasantly fatty edge. Every now and again, though, you encounter a salty speck of pork that demands to be chewed, providing a weird but wonderful shock to the system: Hey, I’m eating my drink.

If this seems like the realization of a fantasy conjured up by undergrads in a pungent smoke-filled dorm room, think again. Porchetta’s chef, Jason Neroni, late of 71 Clinton Fresh Food, explained the drink’s origins: “We had a ton of skin left over from the pork bellies we serve, a huge batch that everyone was snacking on.”

Since pork fat had infiltrated the dessert menu (in the crust of a lemon-curd tart), why not the drink list?

On a recent Saturday night, more than a third of Porchetta’s patrons ordered this union of aperitif and appetizer, happily straddling the border between the brilliant and the insane.

Pork Margarita
Adapted from Porchetta

Pork cracklings
Dried chiles de árbol
2oz. añejo tequila
2Tbsp. freshly squeezed lime juice
Splash of Cointreau
Splash of freshly squeezed tangerine juice
Pickled green chili pepper, for garnish (optional)

1. Use a food processor to grind store-bought unflavored pork cracklings and dried chiles de árbol to taste until the mixture resembles a coarse meal.

2. In a shaker filled with ice, shake the tequila, lime juice, Cointreau and tangerine juice. Rub the edge of a chilled cocktail glass with a lime, then dip the glass into the pork cracklings. Strain the liquids into the glass and garnish with the chili pepper if desired.

Yield: 1 serving

In contrast, I present a haiku about one of the drinks I "enjoyed" this weekend, in addition to High Life & Tang (and regular beer):

Haterade

Take 151

Add Hawaiian Punch and ice

Serve: Martini glass.

My Stunning Social Life

Junior jetsetter that I am, I will be leaving my dear City of New York tomorrow to visit fair Cambridge, Massachusetts, my second love. There is a "sporting match" of sorts that I will allegedly attend, but really, I'm going to go see my college cronies and beloved bars.

Myself and thirteen other individuals received an invitation a few days ago to a pregame brunch. It comes from my dear coupled friends the Cheese Princess and Moonshine. (Yes, I'm going to do the obnoxious friend nickname thing here.)

I have posted it here for your review.

"Hey All,

Can't wait for everyone to descend upon cambridge.

To start our saturday off right we'll be setting our alarms to drink. The party will commence at 9:30am at [redacted] in [random town near Cambridge]. There will be beer, there will be compton mimosas [ED. NOTE: THE COMPTON MIMOSA IS HIGH LIFE AND TANG]...if you want something else (eg. wine, hard liquor) bring some along.

If you want to bring food/ alcohol, that would rule. Castro, I'm assigning you to bring the tang.

We will supply the following:

(1) cheap beer (likely high life)
(2) roast pork shoulder (Moonshine's making it)
(3) dessert (this will likely be cranberry baklava and blueberry sausage cake prepared by yours truly)
(4) something mexican by Twitch

Yay for one kick ass party happening Saturday morning...[random town near Cambridge]ain't gonna know what hit it.

If i missed anyone, feel free to forward this along.

The Cheese Princess"

A later email from Moonshine outlined a complete menu:

"North Carolina Picnic Shoulder*
Blueburry Sausage Muffins*†
Breakfast Burritos*†
Pancakes*†
Biscuits & Gravy*†
Pumpkin Apple-Butter Pie*†
Apple Pie*†
Sun-Drop Jello Salad*†
Cranberry Baklava*
Chocolate Pecan Pie*
Beerz*
Coffee†
Coconut Cream Pie with Fishstikenge†

We'll have lots of food, but additional items are welcome; RSVP is assumed.

Moonshine

* -- Puts the Pork on your Fork!
† --Topped with cheddar cheese."

Subsequent emails have dubbed the theme of this brunch "Fork Your Pork," and you know, I have no idea if my friends are trying to say something dirty or not.

For those who are not aware, I do not *eat* pork products.

Oh brother.

I'm bringing bagels and lox.

Wish me luck. Happy early weekend.

That's the Way the Cookie Crumbles

Due to an increased number of extracurricular activities outside of work, I have been consuming more coffee as of late. My weeks include an NYU class, graduate school applications, and a breakneck social routine that has lasted until 1 am on weeknights and 4 am and beyond on weekends. Granted, I'm not up to collegiate quantities of joe, when four cups would barely make me quake. No, these days, if I have one cup of cafe-quality coffee after 9pm, I'm up until 3 am writing emails and reading books, blogs and online newspapers.

I certainly have enough important activities to fill my insomniac awake hours, but the lack of sleep and increased caffeine has made me a little loopy in the conversation department.

I had a Google Chat conversation the other night with my dear friend Research Science that I would like to share with you. I've mentioned her before - she's one of the few people from my high school with whom I still correspond. She is in school now so she keeps the same night owl hours as I do - only she has an excuse. The conversation turned to a boy she has fancied for some time now, and of course, the fact that he just doesn't get it. But they had such a strong bond, she insisted. My mind wandered - perhaps she was right.

Details aside, in my strung-out state, I came up with the shockingly dumb simile that we are all like unfinished cookies. Oh yes - and what is this blog save for a place for me to make fun of myself? I present to you, dear readers, the mixed metaphor/simile cookie theory that I gave to Research Science.

I can't believe I'm typing this.

Research Science and her intended are like two raw cookies baking in an oven.

They are simply not ready to sit next to each other in the bakery case just yet. In fact, they have more baking to do. But there is the chance - the possibility - that they will meet again on the same bakery shelf.

Sadly, the boy is moving to another city - and another bakery. But all she wants to do is have the chance to decorate him and eat him.

Tear.

I kind of want a cookie now.

But instead, I'm going for drinks.

What is that *Funky* Smell?

That would be me.

Just kidding. About the "funky" part anyhow, unless you're not a fan of women's perfume.

Ok, funky it is.

As long as I'm still discussing my birthday, I figured I would mention what I am doing with a Sephora gift card given to me by one of my mother's friends. It's for $30, and since one lipstick really looks like another to my eye, I decided to put it towards something that will last close to forever: perfume. (I refuse to call it "fragrance." Deal.)

There's really only one question that needs to be asked when perfume shopping:

Would you hit that?

Scents can have funny associations with memories and feelings. For that reason, this question needs to be posed to a specific individual. In my case, that would be the Platonic Straight Male Friend and not the female or gay confidant. They, like you, know what smells *good* but they don't have the psychological hard-wiring to know what the perfume smells *like*. As a corollary, anyone who is trying to get in your pants probably won't give you an honest answer.

As an example, let's review a sampling of feedback on Stella by Stella McCartney, a perfume I rather thought I liked:

Female/Gay Male Friend: Oooh, that smells so nice!

Interested Straight Male: Take your shirt off.

Straight Male Friend: That smells like my mom.

Second Straight Male Friend: That smells like a coat closet.

Of course, you don't always want the answer to be yes. Sometimes, you want to smell like you wear a suit everyday, even if you don't. Or like, I don't know, a vegetable and herb garden. Or a citrus fruit (ahem, Duchess.)

But do these questions ever work? Do the male friends shoot everything down? I hear you cry. Observe the response for Lolita Lempicka:

Female/Gay Male Friend: Oooh, that smells so nice! [Do you see a pattern here? These people are useless.]

Interested Straight Male: Why haven't you taken your shirt off yet? [also useless.]

Straight Male Friend: [before being asked] What is that intoxicating scent?

Second Straight Male Friend: You smell like my first kiss at summer camp.

I'll let you guess what I ended up buying.

Weekend Won't Wane

I'd call it a triumphant return, only really, those crafty Haiku never left.

Onomatopoeia Dinner

Shabu Shabu food
Quite delicious, but tricky
My mouth is still burnt.

Dodgeball Lesson

Note to all members -
When using special features,
Read those instructions.

Brunch at Midnight

Host with a Sharpie.
Question mark drawn on my leg
That kind of party?

Here Goes Nothing

I am about to switch to the "new" version of blogger. I'm worried it's going to eat my archives - wish me luck. I'm also going to install Google AdSense, because...well... I'm just curious. If they're ugly or they annoy me, I promise to take them down. Because really, I exist to give you aesthetic pleasure.

[Update: It all worked. Victory.]

Love and Kisses,
Audrey.

Breaking Radio Silence

And you may ask yourself...

Why hasn't Audrey written anything in the past week? She can't possibly have anything else to do aside from blather all day.

So, I have this new job. It got busy like whoa because I'm doing my old job and my new job right now. However, my group is close to hiring someone for my former position, so hopefully soon I can get back to the blog on a more regular basis.

Digest of recent Hot-Button Issues:

Did you watch the New York City ING Marathon?

Yes, in fact I did. A friend who attended Burning Man, who I'll term Canada, up and decided that he wanted to run it in September. Good friend that I am, I showed up, cow bell in hand, to cheer him and a bunch of other people on. I'd never attended any of the big NYC crowd events - parades, New Year's Eve, Fourth of July - and I must say, I enjoyed the energy of the mob. Good times.

Did you vote?

No, because apparently I suck at life. I am still registered to vote in the Bestchester, at my parents' house. I ordered an absentee ballot back in September and then sort of forgot about the whole thing. It never came. I never voted. I think it may be time to change my registration so I can become embroiled in local politics.

Are you ill?

No. That's not why I've been away. What kind of questions are these, anyhow?

The ones that you are asking yourself.

Oh.

Right.

Can we get on with this?

How were the GREs?

I took the GREs?

I'm asking the questions here.

Right. I took the GREs. They were ok, but I'm less than pleased with my score. I am considering taking them again in December, but I'm having a difficult time gauging their importance. Perhaps my time would be better spent doing, I don't know, anything else?

Are you enjoying the unseasonably warm weather in New York City?

Are you kidding? Actually, it's absolutely delightful and I'm nearly walking on water. I love seasons, but I'm beginning to wonder if I love temperate weather more.

How's the new job?

Busy. And back to it I go.

Next week: The return of Haiku Haiku Mondays, Perfume Shopping, Energy Efficient Toilet paper and 50% more funny!

I Have a Question for You

Yes, you. Right there.

Well, New York you.

What happens to the Mr. Softee Ice Cream Truck guys in the winter?

They don't become the Coffee Cart guys. Or the Halal Food guys. Or the Fruit Stand guys. Those guys are there all year.

Obviously the trucks sit in a yard somewhere. But what of their caretakers?

I await your answers.

NOT OK

Sometimes, you need a mantra - a saying that will get you through life. Other times, you just need to disabuse people of their delusions of grandeur. Some things are NOT OK.
For instance, girls wearing short skirts on Halloween and thinking that they are costumes?

NOT OK.

It's less of a list of things I dislike and more of an admonishment to people or things who are breaking the rules of civilized society.

People IMing me with a question mark to signify that they have a question? NOT OK.

Men wearing the entire bottle of cologne? NOT OK.

This event the Duchess found in San Francisco. Politically-charged dance-theater works?

No. NOT OK.

Bad grammar on signs I walk by every day? NOT OK. (Is it ironic that "NOT OK isn't really great grammar? Maybe.)

This? Whoa. NOT OK.

I think I need to make a sign that says NOT OK and take this to the streets. Please feel free to contribute.