Ow: The Update

After hobbling around for a couple of days, I was reminded that stepping on nails = tetanus. Then I spent another day convinced I was about to come down with lockjaw and die. Then I went to the doctor today and got a big ole shot to complement the big ole nail that was lodged in my heel. Arrrghhhh. But now it's over!

(I have a huge backlog of blogging, btw. But we haven't had internet at home, and work's been busy. So... see you when I see you).

Ow

Just stepped on an upturned upholstery nail.  I thought I was being electrocuted.  Dan got it out, but now I'm relatively certain that the police will be showing up in response to a suspicion-of-domestic-violence call from our neighbors.  Will they believe me when I say it wasn't his fault?

Advice: if you have just moved, wear shoes inside.

Hang With Me And My MMO

I heard about The Guild from Comic-Con coverage, as apparently its star and creator, Felicia Day, was about as popular there as Johnny Drama and Viking Quest. It's a web show. I checked it out - it's modest but cute, and impressive for something more or less self-produced and distributed only online. Plus, novelty value: redheaded Felicia is really into online gaming, and she's hot! They now have a single:

This type of thing makes me feel waaaaay less dorky, as I only get the references that also appear on South Park.

Spanakopita Saves Everything

I knew, in a general way, that Saturday was going to be A Day. Dan and I were planning to U-Haul it to New Jersey to pick up the rest of my crap for the apartment, as well as some furniture that my parents had scooped up at a house sale. I would finally have a place to put my clothes. We'd have a couch. This was necessary.

We got a 17' truck, which was bigger than we needed, but it wasn't until I saw this picture that I realized how much bigger. Also, ugh, Photoshop please.

It also just so happened that this was the night some friends and I had settled on for Food Group. I'd offered to host back when I figured we would be moved in by the third week of August, but I figured it was still fine - we would definitely be back in time to at least kind of put the apartment together and finish whipping up dinner. "I can move a couch up our weirdly angled stairs and then go slap together a cake and ten spanakopitas before 7," I thought. "It'll be FINE!"

By the time we got to my parents' house, we were running about three hours behind. The Flatbush section of Brooklyn is CONFUSING, guys! A man with tusks coming out of his chin helped us get back on track, but it was stressful. On our way back to the city we learned the hard way that you can't bring trucks through the Holland Tunnel. "Not since 9/11," the cop said. "Go to the Lincoln." I started crying. Hard.

"Meghan, STOP CRYING AND HELP ME NOT HIT A CAR," Dan said. At this point he had calculated that the day was not yet halfway through.

"Ok, ok." I found us an entry point to the FDR, which we could take to the Williamsburg Bridge and get home. Oh, except there are no trucks allowed on the FDR, either. We got on anyway, and a dude in a convertible immediately started shouting at us.

"What are you DOING? You're gonna get a ticket!"

We exited, heart pounding, one stop from the bridge. Dan tried to commit sepuku with the U-Haul keychain but I stopped him. Then we got home and unloaded everything, leaving the couch for last. Somehow, I thought that I should tire myself out as much as possible before being Dan's only aid in moving the couch up a flight of stairs. As I dropped it every four feet I could see him fantasizing about having a strong man to help him, but then, amazingly, his fantasy came true. A stranger off the street helped us carry our couch upstairs. I KNOW. That happens??? That happens! I don't know this guy, but I love him. He wouldn't even take a bottle of wine as a thank you. He also mentioned that he'd just been helping another friend move and was on his way home, so when he saw us, he was just "still in the moving mood." Is this person real? I think maybe we dreamed it.

At this point it was 6:15. People were coming for dinner at 7. Do I know how it all came together? Not really. But it did, somehow. I'd made most of the food earlier in the week, including the spanakopita filling, so I just slapped together the phyllo, and it was delicious. We drank a little too much white wine out of our Joan Rivers champagne glasses and bought ice cream for dessert, and all was well. Spanakopita fixes everything.

Summer Party

We had our summer office party last night, and I have to admit that working with almost entirely people in the 18-34 demographic has its advantages when it comes to semi-mandatory socializing. For instance, I kicked the EVP of ad sales's ass in flip cup. I had the game of my life in flip cup, actually. It was like that time in 2006 when I inexplicably became the world's absolute best Cranium player for like two hours. I was the LeBron of Comedy Central. Actually, if LeBron had shown up to play, I'm confident that I would've beaten him too.

This was apparently followed by this:

(I stole these pictures from my coworker's Facebook page. I hope he doesn't mind. Or read this blog).

And then I stumbled home. I've kind of turned into a lightweight.

Death Panel

Michael Schur, the head writer of The Office (he also shows up occasionally as Dwight's cousin Mose), has a Twitter account where he writes mostly about the Red Sox. He took a break the other day to tweet about the Death Panel. No one seems to find this *quite* as funny as I do, but hey, it's my blog. (It's a Twitter thingy, so you have to start from the bottom. You can do it).

1. Death Panel Death Sentence overruled! Thanks for all the support, you guys. Good luck in your Death Panels. Tip: show some leg. Can't hurt.1:41 PM Aug 14th from web
2. My lawyer thinks I have a strong case. Unfortunately, lawyer's Death Panel Hearing just happened and it went badly and he's dead.1:35 PM Aug 14th from web
3. Appealing my Death Panel Death Sentence on grounds of prejudice. Turns out one of the women on my Death Panel LOVES Bill Plaschke.1:34 PM Aug 14th from web
4. Re-do of Talent Portion went okay. They made me take the Knowledge Test AND the Driving Test again, and I hit 2 cones and now I have to die.1:31 PM Aug 14th from web
5. I guess there was some issue with the Talent Portion. So now I have to put the outfit back on, go back in, and sing "Right Round" AGAIN.12:52 PM Aug 14th from web
6. You're not going to believe this. I just got called back into my Death Panel. Ugh. I JUST ordered lunch.12:50 PM Aug 14th from web
7. One guy on my Death Panel thought it was funny to talk like Darth Vader the whole time. I was like, dude, I get it, you're on a Death Panel.12:33 PM Aug 14th from web
8. Not one Hispanic on my Death Panel. When are we going to have Death Panels that look like America?!12:33 PM Aug 14th from web
9. Death Panel members rush into the Death Panel Chamber to cool music and laser light show, like the Bulls of the mid-90's. Very impressive.12:32 PM Aug 14th from web
10. Met a cute girl in the Death Panel waiting room, and we hit it off and made plans to meet up after, but her Death Panel killed her. Sucks.12:31 PM Aug 14th from web
11. During my Death Panel hearing, one of the people on the Death Panel was called in front of another Death Panel, and murdered. Ironic.12:30 PM Aug 14th from web
12. FYI: the Death Panel does not validate, and the parking is insanely expensive. $30! And I was only in there for sixteen hours!12:29 PM Aug 14th from web
13. After you go in front of the Death Panel, they give you OJ and cookies, like after you give blood. It's a nice gesture.12:28 PM Aug 14th from web
14. A surprising thing about the Death Panel: idea of pulling the plug on my grandma never came up. I thought that'd be their first move.12:27 PM Aug 14th from web
15. The Death Panel offices are actually quite nice. Also, you know who was on my death panel? My 3rd grade teacher. Small world.12:26 PM Aug 14th from web
16. Had to go in front of the Death Panel today. Yikes. They are *tough.* I get to live, but they took two fingers and a foot.

NYPL

A few years ago I posted about the Santa Monica Public Library and the various crazies it was proud to call its patrons.

I'm currently at the Hudson branch of the NYPL and... it turns out, urban library clientele is not coast-specific! There are some WEIRDOS here. Also, regular-looking people with defeat in their eyes.

Of course, I'm here to update my iPod (still no Internet at the apartment), so who am I to judge.

Dinner Partee

Some friends and I have a "Food Group," where we rotate hosting meals of deliciousness and just hang out every month or so. It's my turn to host this Saturday. I volunteered thinking it would be a great way to break in my new kitchen with a forgiving crowd (let's say that they won't care about drinking wine from commemorative Comedy Central Roast of Joan Rivers stemless champagne glasses).

There are only six of us, so at first I was totally confident. I can do dinner for six in my sleep. Sorry to brag, guys, but it's true. So I would up the ante and cook from the French Laundry Cookbook. The FLC is full of insanely complicated four-star recipes from the famed restaurant, like "Ashed Chevreaux with Slow-Roasted Yellow and Red Beets and Red Beet Vinaigrette," or "Spotted Skate Wing with Braised Red Cabbage and Mustard Sauce." Or at the very least, I could theme it all like a Maine fish shack and make fried oysters with lobster rolls and a delicious vinegar-based coleslaw with ice cream sundaes for dessert, right?!

Then I remembered that oh yeah, Dan lives here (add one guest). And that my BFF and her BF are in town and would be able to come (add two). And that Panicky has a houseguest who, for some reason, she isn't planning to leave alone in her apartment (add another!). So that's ten people. Which in terms of fun is great… but as I barely have enough forks for ten, I don't think I can do a multi-course plated dinner including Ashed Chevreaux with Slow-Roasted Yellow and Red Beets and Red Beet Vinaigrette. I deeeefinitely don't have enough cash for double-digit lobster rolls.

New plan.

So, of course: Ina.

Ina Garten, I love you. I love your books. Thank you for quitting your White House nuclear energy job to concentrate on a specialty food empire. Dan thanks you as well, even if he doesn't know it. Thanks to her generous portion sizes and super-easy, ridiculously well-tested techniques, I will make tzatziki and parmesan-thyme crackers and maybe polenta and not feel bad about asking Panicky to bring the panzanella. I will have an effortless dinner party for ten!

Assuming we get nine more chairs by Saturday.

She's Done It Again

In college, my friend Pwd came back from abroad and showed everyone a porno he'd picked up in Florence. "IT'S ARTISTIC!" he'd yell. "It's like... fucking fucking fucking... A BEACH. Sex sex sex... A FOREST." And it was true; the tape was equal parts nudie flick and meditative, unsettling nature film. It was like the new Lady Gaga video!

I went out with Dennis this past weekend - which, side note, yay, I haven't been seeing him enough lately - and he asked if I've seen the video for Lady Gaga's "Paparazzi." He said it was really crazy and features the very, very hot Alexander Skarsgard (I wasn't into him on last season of True Blood, but he got a haircut this season and is now sizzling. I can openly gawk at him while watching with Dan, as the show's million featured boobies evens it all out).

I had not seen it. So I just watched it.

It's fucking nuts.

I kind of think it should be on premium cable after 10pm only.

Bookzilla Fail

I got to page 623. Which isn't bad. But I think I need a break from power brokering. In many ways the book is a huge downer, as the author explores so many of the options never looked at in New York's urban development, and how the highway and park systems made sure that poor and minority residents were stuck in shitty areas as much as possible.

And also how reading long books now takes me longer than two days. I'll come back to it in a few weeks.

My Summer Vacation

So far in Maine, we've hiked, canoed, swam, gotten just about halfway through my DVDs of Freaks and Geeks (I'm so happy the family likes them), done without cell service, and eaten many a lobstah.  GOOD TIMES.  Dan left for his second vacation in Wisconsin last night, so now without a boyfriend to entertain, I can focus on my next goal: finishing The Power Broker before he gets back to New York.  In other words: to become Bookzilla.

This is not an easy goal.  TPB is 1246 pages of New York history, spanning most of the twentieth century, through the heroic and dastardly achievements of Robert Moses.  (Should I link to his Wikipedia page here?  I feel a little sheepish posting a link to a two-page summary of his life while I slog through a thousand pages of small type.  Also, now that the Wikipedia page thing has occurred to me, I could totally read that and pretend I finished the book.  No!  No!  The book is actually really good.  Wiki it yourself if it's so important).  I'm on page 293.  Because the meat of the book ends on page 1161, some simple math that I can't do in my head puts me about a quarter of the way through.  A quarter!  This bitch is mine!

And now I have to stop blogging and go read on the dock.

UPDATE: Got sidetracked by Freaks and Geeks and multiple glasses of wine, but I'm on page 429.  Not too bad.  Probably won't read much of it tomorrow, but there's always Sunday when I'm back in New York, right?

Maine Economics

Dinner last night, for eight people. Lobster, mussels, and clam chowder all around. Enough that I had a food baby. PLENTY of chowder and mussels left over for today.

Total bill: $69.

Ummmmm let's move here.