i want to go hunting but i don’t want to kill animals or shoot a gun.

ever since i wrote about “hunting gear” a couple years ago, i’ve been on this kick that i really want to hunt except for: a) i don’t want to actually kill an animal or b) shoot a gun.

shooting a big furry animal? one that’s cute? (and let’s face it: they’re all cute. even the ones that want to eat your face.)  i just couldn’t do it. i’ve also learned that when hunting, you need to drag the dead animal back to your car, then at some point, gut it. which, no. please, i can barely make a meatloaf!

i also don’t like shooting guns, because they’re a) loud b) dangerous and c) have kickback. and i try to avoid all loud, dangerous things, especially those that might wind up tossing my body like a beanbag. (hah, that was a funny visual.)

so i guess what i actually want to do is wear cool hunting clothes while hiding out in the woods looking at animals.

is there a name for this activity? because it’s definitely not hunting.

i think what might be a good solution is to take a moderately short hike in camo and hunting-appropriate boots, stop in the prettiest spot, and watch animals in their natural habitat while i picnic on a variety of forest-appropriate snacks, including but not limited to fresh fruit, sheep or goat’s milk cheese, and/or a selection of meats that don’t need to be heated. and pumpkin seeds. oh, and tea, from, like, a stainless steel thermos that keeps it really really hot for hours, because, really, who knows how long i’ll be out there? OH AND CHOCOLATE. DARK CHOCOLATE. mmmm.

other items to pack:
-a blanket
-matches (in case i need to make a fire, which, how do you make a fire? whatever, i’ll figure it out.)
-a tent (in case it rains)
-one of those wind-up lights that’s also a radio and a cell phone charger
-S.O.S. flares (in case of emergency)
-bear spray
-a knife (don’t ask; this just feels like something i should have)
-first aid kit

ok, i guess what actually want to do is to go camping, in which case i’m going to need one of those portable camping stoves. and some kind of stove top coffee pot. breakfast foods. canned beans. things like that. OH WAIT: BUG SPRAY. but without chemicals. natural bug spray.

this is turning into kind of an ordeal. maybe i should just go fishing. except i don’t want to bait the hook or touch any fish. so i guess what i actually want to do is sit in a boat or stand on a pier all day, catch and reel in a fish, and basically make someone else do all the gross stuff. (note: i have actually found someone to do this for me!)

so yeah. that’s actually all i wanted to tell you. how’s your summer been? mine’s been a little on the crappy side (hence not posting much). HOWEVER (however!) i’m thrilled to tell you that I HAVE COMPLETED MY E-BOOK, “THAT’S NOT A KITTEN, IT’S A RAT,” AND IT WILL SOON BE AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE FOR THE LOW LOW PRICE OF $2.99.

the gist of this e-book is that it’s actually a mini e-book (hence the reasonable price), designed to be read in one hour or less. it contains lots of what i call dvd extras for regular readers (like how i unknowingly peed my pants in kindergarten while listening to phonics records in my elementary school library) but also tries to reel people in that haven’t made it to this blog yet with tales of eddie the rat and the bottomless abyss that is my bag.

BONUS: if you’re somewhat local i am willing to come to your book club (yes! your book club!) to answer questions, or, you know, just to eat your food and talk trash with you and your friends. i will also bring HOLLY, whom, as you all know, is the real hero of this blog in that she is endlessly patient with me as i talk/complain about her and spill our business on the internet. (LOVE YOU, HONEY!)

trust me, i will let you all know the moment it’s available for download. in the meantime, does anyone want to sit and watch animals in the woods with me? make sure you wear camo. i’ll bring the forest snacks and the bear spray.

Advertisement

out TODAY: flourless! a book by my BFF nicole spiridakis!

do you have a best friend? i do. her name’s nicole spiridakis and she’s a kick-ass food blogger, chef/baker, who, as of today, just happens to be a published author.

in lieu of being responsible and writing about the end of our cleanse–which, yes, we finished, and yes, i’m still alive in case you were wondering (which, were you even?)–i’m going to take a moment promote her new gluten-free dessert cookbook, flourless, which is both shockingly beautiful (it really is) and entirely sensible in that it doesn’t depend on weird flours and gums but naturally gluten free ingredients that mingle and merge to create delightfully delicious and very, i may add, delectable desserts. (what i did right there is called alliteration. and you thought i wasn’t a professional writer! *rolls eyes*)

before i share the conversation i recently had with nicole about flourless, i’d like to tell you how we met.

nicole and i met in some kind of introductory journalism class at the university of maryland, college, park. it was the late 90s. i was a jersey girl with a pixie cut, a bad attitude, and a lot pens. she was a northern california girl with long, flowing hair and a backpack featuring a variety of feminist pins. she was quiet. i was not. i basically sat next to her and talked to her until she became my friend. 🙂

although we very rarely see each other, she is my daily supporter and my personal cheerleader and i love her like crazy and am just so friggin proud of her and her accomplishment.

so. *ahem* <<wipes eyes and clears throat>> without further ado, may i present a conversation with the newly published author (!) nicole spiridakis about her fabulous new book, flourless.

jessica: hi nicole! what’s up!? i texted you like five minutes ago but i thought i’d ask again for the sake of my readers.

nicole: I totally texted you back but hi again! I am currently baking some cookies. Shocking, I know.

j: so you’re my bff for life (4LIFE) so i wanted to promote your new book, flourless: recipes for naturally gluten-free desserts, a little bit. it’s also pretty awesome so i think people should know about it.

nicole: Aww, you’re my bff, too! Thanks so much for the shout-out.

j: ok so it’s a gluten-free dessert cookbook (mmmm dessert…). but it’s all naturally gluten-free, right? no weird thickeners, no gluten-free flour, etc. tell us all about it!

n: Exactly! All the recipes rely upon naturally gluten-free ingredients – like oats (note: these are naturally gluten-free but commercial oats are often processed in facilities that also process wheat flours so make sure to buy certified g-f oats if you’re allergic), nuts, fruits, eggs, etc.

j: how did you come up with the idea for flourless?

n: My sister-in-law Emily keeps to a gluten-free diet and I started baking her gluten-free cookies and such, using pretty simple ingredients (and no guar or xanthum gums because I am cheap and those are expensive). We got to talking about gluten-free baking and realized that making stuff that doesn’t try to compensate for regular flour items – i.e. is stand-alone delicious – or use weird substitutes often taste much better and is less intimidating to make. Thus the concept of ‘naturally flourless’.

j: some people are kind of freaked out by gluten-free things, especially desserts, but these recipes seem really appealing. like, you don’t even need to mention that they’re gluten-free to people. they’re just…well, naturally gluten-free. do you get what i’m trying to say? i feel like i’m not saying it right.

n: Yes! That was my aim. I don’t want people to think oh, another gluten-free recipe, ho hum, I guess I will eat it because it’s there but I doubt it will be great. The goal was: here are some amazing desserts that taste SO good and oh yeah, they happen to be gluten-free!                      

j: what are some of your favorite recipes in the book?

n: I’m very partial to the Mexican hot chocolate cake; that was one of my early successes and I’m still really happy with how it turned out. I love the almond butter-chocolate chip cookies, and the vanilla cupcakes with lemon buttercream. Oh and the roasted stone fruit with mascarpone and mint. And the cinnamon molasses cookies, salted caramel pots de crème, pistachio-coffee toffee … I could go on.

j: as you know, i do not pride myself on my cooking nor my baking skills. is this the type of book even someone somewhat dysfunctional like me could follow?

n: Absolutely. (Although I think you’re a better cook than you let on.) My goal was to write recipes that would be accessible to the home cook of varying levels of experience – from seasoned gluten-free bakers to those who only bake gluten-free once in awhile (or not at all). I truly hope I have accomplished this.

j: is there anything else you’d like to say? i mean, this is your big chance to reach my 200 readers. no i’m kidding. it’s 300. NO ACTUALLY: 10,000. TEN THOUSAND READERS. 5 MILLION READERS.

n: I wholly loved working on this cookbook and I am truly grateful for the opportunity. I can’t say how/why/when I really got into cooking and baking but it’s something I’ve been doing for years and now it’s just a regular part of my life – it’s true that I rarely let a week go by without baking at least something (often more than one thing). I feel so lucky that I can share some of my efforts with a wider audience, and I so hope people enjoy and benefit from this cookbook.

j: are you going to make me any of these desserts when i come visit you in morocco? is there anything really chocolately in there? omg i loooove chocolate. remember that flourless chocolate cake you made for my 23^rd birthday party back in the day? omg it was soooo good. you’ve been such an amazing baker for so long. i should have guessed you’d do a book like this one day.

n: You’re so lovely. Thank you. I will of course bake you lots of delights when you visit me in North Africa. And make mint tea. Who am I kidding: coffee.

j: i’m really proud of you, btw. i love how you’re an author now. i think you’re the best. i’m going to text you in five minutes to say hi.

n: … sorry, what? I was writing you a text. Right! We’ve come a looong way from those days at UMD but I still think you’re the best thing I gained from that journalism program! Oh, other than some sweet Diamondback bylines 😉

(jessica’s note: omg the diamondback, umcp’s very own student newspaper, where i thought i was the bomb-diggity for making $10/article, which, hello, you could totally get some pretty decent shampoo and/or conditioner at cvs for $10 back then.)

if you’re in the san francisco area, you can meet nicole and have her sign your very own copy of flourless this sunday! details are here.

nicole, i love you and congratulations!!!!!! when i gain five to eight pounds from eating all these desserts, i’m going to text you a bunch of angry emoticons followed by a bunch of hearts 😉 XXO

EVERYTHING THAT NEEDS TO STOP RIGHT NOW.

i’ve been short on time lately. so in lieu of an actual coherent post, i’ve simply compiled a list of annoyances to share with you. i started writing it in a barnes & noble, shortly after a day trip to philadelphia. then i developed a new desk injury. now i’m sitting in a starbucks in towson watching flat butts go by.

here we go:

the heavy breathing behind me at the barnes & noble. just stop. stop sighing! your laptop screen is not large enough to shield me from your breathing. this is why i stay home and write. cause of people like you. go outside and sigh and breathe heavy. that’s what outside air is for.

the uncovered coughing behind me on the bus in philadelphia. HEY DUDE: DOES MY HAIR LOOK LIKE A RECEPTACLE FOR GERMS. IT’S NOT. COVER YOUR DAMN MOUTH OR I WILL SPRAY YOU IN THE FACE WITH MY BRAND-NEW MACE I JUST BOUGHT AT ACE HARDWARE.

the hookers. once the temperature rises five freakin degrees in this city, every loudass, raspy-voiced hooker in the neighborhood appears out of nowhere and starts shouting with her thousand-year-old smoker’s voice. STOP DISRUPTING MY WRITING. STOP DISRUPTING MY SLEEP. go inside! it’s not even warm out yet! why do you have to yell anyway? just talk! like a normal person! there are quiet hookers out there. haven’t you ever even seen pretty woman?!

the desk injuries. so now i have ulnar neuropathy? in addition to my desk-sitting-induced occipital neuralgia? in addition to the ganglion cyst from mouse overuse or somesuch that i used to have or still have? i don’t even know if i still have it. but i had to sleep with a brace on for a couple months back in ’05. it was…it was pretty nerdy. i’m glad i wasn’t wearing my nighttime mouthguard to prevent clenching back then or else i’d be divorced by now.

the slow people. oh and i’m slow so this is really saying something.

the people that don’t know how to drive. and i’m not even that good of a driver! USE YOUR BLINKER. STOP AT THE STOP SIGN. WHAT’S THE PROBLEM. GET OFF YOUR DAMN PHONE.

the grumpy people working in public places. look, despite how this blog may or may not portray me, i pride myself on being an exceptionally nice to strangers, and that includes people that work with the public, on the phone and in person. don’t assume i’m going to be rude to you. don’t be grumpy to me because some asshat was just a jerk to you. if you hate your job working with, you know, actual people, go get a job doing data entry. i did it once. worst two days of my life but you’d probably friggin love it.

the high waistlines! c’mon. COME ON. it wasn’t ok in 1992. it’s not ok now. we were all ok seeing chandler, monica & joey’s collective camel toes back then because. well. i guess we weren’t ok with it. but we didn’t have a choice. that’s all that was available. it’s 2014 now. we have more choices. choose to wear pants that keep your genitals a secret. choose to wear pants that don’t make your butt look like one giant slice of BACK.

we don’t have to settle for mom jeans anymore! WE’RE BETTER THAN THAT.

10 reasons why i’m actually a senior citizen

my people.

i have long suspected that i’m actually a senior citizen in a young(er) person’s body. and not, like, what aarp considers a “senior” (55. puh-lease! 55 is the new 35!) no no no, i’m talkin little old lady senior. like, little. the kind that gets her hair set, drinks coffee with lunch, and clears the way through the local diner with her cane. (that was my late gram. she was so totally and completely cool, it was kind of unbelievable.)

anyway, ever since i got my nighttime mouthguard (see “i got a retainer“) and started soaking it in efferdent, i started thinking: oh my gosh. i really am a senior.

i recalled my unbridled joy as i played bingo with italian-american octogenarians at the sons of italy lodge, this year and in years past, pining for the $13 “jackpot.” of my deep love for the golden girls, and my need to secure the boxed set, despite holly’s protests. my need to shout WHAT? at my spouse even when i hear her.

so i started making a list of all the reasons why i’m actually a senior citizen. because what else am i gonna do while i wait for the efferdent to turn from blue to clear?

ok, here we go:

1. i have hard candy in my bag at all times. including ginger chews “in case one of us gets nauseous.”

2. i also have “nerve spray” in my bag at all times. for nerves. it can also help with nausea if it makes you nervous. (which, yes. being nauseous makes me nervous. don’t even get me started.)

3. speaking of bags…i need to admit to myself that as much as i want to call what i carry around a bag, it’s…a purse. and i pretty much have it with me at all times. i strap it across my body “in case i get mugged” and freak the hell out if i can’t find it in three seconds, shouting to poor holly WHERE’S MY PURSE HONEY WHERE IN THE HELL IS MY PURSE. this is my grandma’s gene. her bag was full of crumpled tissues and hard candies with pennies stuck to them. i’m getting there. 

4. i always check the backseat when i get in the car. again, this is a habit i picked up from my gram who shouted CHECK THE BACKSEAT at me once i started driving. as a lifelong non-driver, it was the one tip she offered me. i guess this was a thing once? people hiding in the backseat? i also lock the doors immediately when we get in the car. “in case we get carjacked.” or rather: “to keep from getting carjacked.”

5. here are the three things i always have in my coat pockets: hand sanitizer, lipstick, and mace. see: “in case i get mugged.” also usually napkins. see #6.

6. i always take a stack of napkins when we go to starbucks or chipotle. and we go to these places often. not such a big stack that it’s obnoxious, but like, a decent, respectable amount. #1, you never know when you’ll need extra napkins! you could sneeze. you could spill something. you could find yourself in an emergency situation where you need to immediately blot your lipstick. #2, they’re good napkins! #3, you need them for your purse. what else will your hard candies stick to? #4, you need them for the glove compartment. #5, you need them to wipe off the seat after you spray the bastard that’s been hiding in your backseat with mace.

7. if holly is in the bathroom for more than 60 seconds i begin shouting HONEY ARE YOU OKAY? ARE YOU OKAY? (again, i picked this up from my grandma, who would shout ARE YOU MOVING YOUR BOWELS at the bathroom door if i was in the bathroom for more than two minutes. she would shout this to me even when i was four years old. before i even knew what “moving my bowels” meant.) this is the way i show my love. by shouting about my spouse’s health. see #8.

8. if holly coughs i immediately announce that she’s coming down with something and then hound her about zipping up her coat. i threaten to make her soup. i ask if she loves me. because if she did, she’d zip up her coat.

9. water aerobics classes featuring hits of the 80s, 90s and today. tried it, loved it, ready to get a floral swim cap so i don’t ruin my blowout.

10. if you visit, i will ask you 10 times if you’re hungry. if you say no, i will feed you anyway. if you still refuse to eat, i will send you home with fruit. old people love fruit. i love fruit. especially apples and oranges. and we all know those are the preferred fruits of seniors.

and…….a very special #11…..****drumroll please!****

if the weather’s too bad to walk outside, i’ll do laps in the mall!!!!

HAPPY 2014, ALL! LET’S MAKE IT COUNT!

me, left. holly, right. happy new year from balteemore, hons!

we’re in the midst of a downton abbey marathon over here

holly and i are usually  not the type to jump on the bandwagon when it comes to popular tv shows, but so many of our friends talk about the pbs series downton abbey that we were finally like ok let’s see what this whole thing’s about.

holly, of course, took the reigns and was like, babe, the new season’s starting, let’s get on this so we can watch season 3. so we started a trial of netflix and finished season 1 over the weekend. then we started season 2 last night (via a free trial of hulu–gotta love the free trials!). here are some thoughts so far:

on the cast & characters:

thomas is a little prick. i could kick his ass. why did they have to make him gay? not good for the cause. they should have fired him before he left. but i guess they need a villian for the storyline. i can’t even look at him. he disgusts me.

his friend, that lady who works for “her ladyship,” (the american lady that was in the 80s movie “she’s having a baby”)? she’s a bitch, too. mrs. whatever-her-face. (o’brian, mrs. o’brian, holly’s telling me now) i could elbow her in the mouth, i can’t even look at her face either. she needs to be fired, too. also: her and thomas smoke entirely too much.

mr. bates is my favorite. so is that girl, the one he proposed to? they’re both our favorites.

the youngest sister is the hottest. i know she’s probably young, but don’t hold it against me. she’s a dead ringer for a brunette scarlett johansson. she even looks good in the old-school nurses uniform.

edith, the blond sister: also a bitch. way to go spreading sh*t about your own sister! she’s the jan brady. everyone knows she’s an idiot. at least she can drive.

mary, the oldest: marsha brady, obviously. popular one. did you see how fabulous her hair is when it’s down? she’s ok. i mean, so far. there’s still plenty of time for me to hate her, too. we’re only on season 2, episode 3. plenty of time.

granny, i know she’s a really famous actress, don’t know her name. started out hating her, now i’m kind of liking her. she’s funny. wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley, though. she was great in “the best exotic marigold hotel.” did you see that movie? FABULOUS MOVIE. see it if you haven’t already! i know it’s a weird name for a movie but trust me, it’s good. you know i wouldn’t lead you astray.

matthew, the cousin. i don’t think cousins should marry, even if they’re distant cousins. you gotta mix up the gene pool, people! he has nice eyes, though. despite the whole cousin thing, i want him and mary together. so wrong it’s actually right.

the turkish guy that died. he totally had a moment with evil thomas. even though i can’t stand him, i don’t blame thomas for putting the moves on him. also: he was hot even when he was dead. that’s true hotness.

daisy: stop picking on daisy! she’s a nice girl! geesh.

i have more commentary on more characters but i have a headache so i’ll stop now.

other notes:

watching the show, episode after episode, really gets me in the mood to talk like british people. i suddenly have the urge to say words like “lovely” and “quite.”

i get confused easily as we watch. i mean, first of all, they’re accents are so thick i need subtitles. also, there are so many names to remember. and secret alliances and plots. i’m not cut out for this type of show. i’m better with friends reruns, jersey shore and hbo’s “girls” (OMG WE LOVE THAT SHOW). far too intellectual and historical for me. but i’m trying. i do see what all the fuss is about. it’s a good show. gotta hand it to them, pbs really knocked one out of the park with this one.

lastly, for the longest time i thought it was downtown abbey. don’t even tell me you didn’t think so, too. glad to have that cleared up before i embarrass myself at a dinner party.

p.s. please no spoilers! pretty please!

locked outside a dressing room…in jeggings

it's amazing that with all this blogging, i still have time to model jeggings.

we all have our recurring nightmares. for some ppl, their teeth fall out. or suddenly they look down and whoops! they’re naked. in their old high school.  

me? yeah, i don’t have the “typical” recurring nightmares. but i’ll tell you what: if i did, they just might revolve around being locked out of an american eagle dressing room in jeggings.  

oh jeggings. what are they? you probably already know what they are b/c you’ve seen them pretty much everywhere. they’re jeans so tight they’re like leggings. except they’re denim, i.e. jeans. so they’re jeggings. (jeans + leggings = yeah. jeggings.) for children of the 80s, like myself (and holly), it’s like hello flashback.  

at first i was like, no damn way would i wear those. but then i see all these girls around in boots *over* their jeans and i’m like: those must be jeggings. i might need to get a pair of jeggings. and then i bitchslap my brain for even saying jeggings even tho no one else can hear. (isn’t it funny how you can embarrass yourself sometimes? i’m constantly doing that.)  

so we went to the mall last night (that’s mawl in my north jersey homeland), specifically to american eagle bc holly needed a new pair of regular jeans. i’m like, oh my. look. at all. those jeggings. (insert brain bitchslap.) and so many colors! i had to try on at least one pair, i thought. just so i’d know.  

holly has always been skeptical of the skinny jean things. (skinny jeans, as you may or may not know, are looser than jeggings.)   

“they look trashy,” she always used to say when i’d try them on. “you look like the ‘freaker girls’ back in my high school.”  

“oh c’mon babe,” i’d always say back. “they’re in. it’s different now. it’s not the same.”  

finally i have gotten her to the point where she’s ok with skinny jeans and doesn’t refer to me as a “freaker girl” when i wear them. and now i have to go and push it (oh and i am always pushing it) and try on an article of clothing that makes ppl squint at your legs and say, “excuse me, are those pants or have your legs and butt been spray painted to create the appearance of pants?”  

but i blame the cute gay guy store manager. he’s the one that suggested i try on the damn jeggings. he actually brought a pair to me.  

“i think you’re really going to like these,” he said.  

i looked at holly. she shrugged.  

“she’s going to think i look like a ‘freaker girl,'” i warned him without a full explanation, taking the jeggings. he looked confused but smiled anyway. i immediately loved him.  

i put them on (ok i had to pull them on; they’re…really tight) and i was like hmmm. i don’t know. i’ve never ever been one of those girls that needs or wants anyone else’s opinion on anything i try on. (holly is the exact opposite. we’re great life partners but bad shopping partners. she’s like, do you like this? which color should i get? i’m like i don’t know can we leave now please fer cryin out loud just get something! i’m not exactly what you’d call “a shopper.”)  

but for once, i truly wasn’t sure. i thought i’d ask holly’s opinion since a) she’s been so damn anti-jegging and b) she’s the one that’s gonna havta look at my ass (literally) in them. so i gingerly stepped out of the dressing room, pretty shy about being, you know, in jeggings.  

“babe?” i asked, hesitantly. “can you come out and…”  

squeeeeeeak.  

the door, which i had sort of propped open, started to shut. and i think these doors….
lock…
when they…  

click.  

…shut.  

sh*t! i was locked out of the dressing room–IN JEGGINGS.  

“babe i’m locked out! i’m locked out of the dressing room and i’m wearing jeggings.”  

i could hear her laughing inside her dressing room.  

“this isn’t funny!” i whisper-shouted. “i am very uncomfortable with this!”  

then the manager came back.  

“those are hot!” he exclaimed before i even had a chance to tell him i was locked out. 

bless him. there is nothing like a compliment from a gay man. b/c you know they mean it. and if your butt looked big they’d tell you. or at least roll their eyes enough so you’d get the idea.  

“really? b/c i’m locked out of the dressing room and i’ve been freaking out.”  

holly popped out and gave me the once over. she admitted they weren’t as bad as she had imagined and i didn’t look like a freaker girl afterall.  

i decided i’d wait to buy the denim jeggings until i find the right boots and decided instead to buy cargo jeggings since they were on sale for $20. and really, can you turn down a pair of cargo jeggings at that price? not really.

oh my gosh we’ve turned into the costanzas

"GEORGE LIKES THE BANANAS!"

if you’ve watched seinfeld (and who hasn’t?), you know who i’m talking about: frank and estelle constanza, george constanza’s parents.

case in point: this morning.

location: our kitchen, baltimore, md

time: around 8 a.m.

me: at the stove.
holly: sitting at the island

me: i’m making your egg. how do you want it? fried?

holly: yeah. but i think i just want an egg white.

me: just an egg white?

holly: yeah! just an egg white!

me (louder) :  just an egg white?

holly: YEAH. JUST THE WHITE.

me: why? why do you only want the white?

holly: what’s it matter why! i only want the white! i want an egg white who cares why?

me (shouting) : OK FER CRYIN OUT LOUD YOU DON’T HAVE TO SHOUT AT ME.

at which point i announced that we were acting like an old married couple. we are an old married couple, holly said. and then i said we sounded like the parents on seinfeld and i was going to blog about this.

you really need to watch the videos below.

this is how you know technology has gotten to you

spam: now in special mailslot size.

when you call actual paper junk mail–the stuff that comes thru your mail slot, that you can, like, actually touch and hold in your hands–“spam.” i have done this more than a few times lately and, frankly, it freaks me out a little.

“what’d we get, babe?” holly asks me across the house (our first floor is one big open space) as i crouch down to pick up the pile on the floor under our mail slot.

“just a buncha spam,” i say, stopping myself. “i mean JUNK MAIL. oh my GOSH why do i keep calling our junk mail ‘spam’???!”

at this point, holly, however, isn’t listening to me anymore. i talk so much she stopped listening to me about eight years ago. (ha. i need to pause here and tell you that TODAY is our nine-year anniversary!! happy anniversary, baby! oh wait. she didn’t hear me. lol.)

anyway, it kinda makes sense, the junk mail/spam thing, as the garbage-type paper mail we all get is indeed called “junk mail.” and junk mail in our inboxes is also called spam. so i guess i’m getting my lines crossed. still, it’s weird. kind of like when i’m laughing at a text message or IM or facebook-y thing and holly asks what i’m laughing at and i really wish i didn’t have to speak and could just, like, email her about it instead. so much for technology making us more effecient. talking is so…two years ago.

(shout out to fellow blogger t. for making me think about spam.)

(any of you out there actually try spam? as in, the food? or processed food byproduct or whatever it is. it seems…jiggly.)

bring on the pizza!

passover ends tonight and omG what a week’s it’s been. i genuinely like passover but this year was tough. i’ve actually been looking fwd to it ending. we’ve had…a rough eight or so days. i can’t even tell you about it. you’re going to have to wait for book #2 for that info. [now, if only our lives could quiet down for like, five minutes, i could actually finish the proposal for book #1. (tho all the sh*t going down in our lives sure does make for good book #2 material.) i am so close to finishing that proposal, btw. (hey it’s hard summing up your entire life in a creative business proposal!) i’m telling you, folks, this is gonna be good. you all can say you knew me way back when.]

i’ve been distracting myself from thinking about puffy pizza crust and crunchy breaded fish sticks by reading ozzy osbourne’s memoir i am ozzy. talk about crazy! i don’t even know how that guy’s still alive, let alone functioning (ok, some could argue that point). hell, i can barely wrap my mind around the fact that he’s fathered multiple children! you’d think that, at a certain point, his sperm would yell, OZZY! ENOUGH! YOU’RE KILLING US DOWN HERE! but no. like i learned in slash’s memoir (and a million little pieces; oh that one’s a real doozie, too), the human body has an amazing capicity to process toxins. it’s mind boggling. and makes me feel a hell of a lot better for hittin’ the advil. (man i am such a dork.)

in any case, YES, bring ON the pizza. tonight at sundown, baby. poor holly’s been trying to convince me to eat pizza all week. she’s such a sport for going along with the passover thing. tho she did try to convince me it was tuesday yesterday, simply to eat pizza. i nearly fell for it, too. little stinker. ha.

some things are an acquired taste

gefilte fish: what's in it? i'm not sure and i don't want to know or else i'm sure i'll stop eating it.

like gefilte fish. if you’re jewish–or an “honorary jew,” as i say, i.e. you spend so much time w/us jews that you’re practically jewish yourself and “oy vey” with the best of us–you’re no stranger to this food. i didn’t realize it was…well, a little weird, until holly and i were together a couple years and i introduced her to it.

“what,” she whispered discreetly in my ear as we attended her very first seder, “is this?”

“it’s gefilte fish,” i whispered back. “it’s…” i paused. suddenly i didn’t know how to describe it.

how could i get this girl from western pee-ay to try a food made from a number of fish–man i didn’t even know what kind of fish were in it. hell, some gefilite fish has carp (overgrown goldfish, basically) in it, something i purposely ignore or else i wouldn’t eat it.

to add insult to injury, it’s preserved on dusty supermarket shelves nationwide in fish jelly. (yes! fish jelly) it also has eggs in it. and matzah meal. and it’s boiled. oh and you slather it with horseradish (horseradish w/beets) before you eat it. and…yeah.

“it’s good,” i assured her as she stared wide-eyed at her plate. “it’s a traditional jewish food. try it. you might like it.”

sport that she is, she tried it. and…didn’t like it.

how could this be? i wondered. how could she not like gefilte fish? and this was the homemade kind. not even a hint of the gross, translucent jiggly fish jelly. (ok, now i’m talking myself out of liking it. i’d better stop w/the jelly talk or else i’ll never eat it again.)

suddenly it dawned on me: gefilte fish is an acquired taste. one of those ethnic foods you just grow up with and ignore its inherant grossness/weirdness b/c it’s been a part of your life for so long.

i’m bringing this up now b/c it’s passover. passover is the holiday for gefilte fish and other odd foods such as chocolate-covered matzah (omg i LOVE chocolate-covered matzah; the exact reason i didn’t buy any this year. i will eat it all.) yeah, passover is basically the festival of gefilte fish. if you love gefilte fish, this is your time to shine, baby.

please share your acquired, ethnic foods w/me. let’s see if you can beat minced whitefish/pike/grown goldfish preserved in a translucent fish jelly served with horseradish and beets. happy passover!