Tuesday, May 31, 2005

"Worry, why do I let myself worry?" Part II

With Spring comes Real Estate talk. With Real Estate talk, I get agita. Our newest discussion is selling and renting. You can’t help think about it. It’s discussed in every newspaper and magazine. Lrudlrick even had us watching CNBC and their Town Forum on ‘The Bubble’.

Back in the days, our parents didn’t think of buying property for investment purposes. You bought a house to live in. Now I’ve got to change my gears and think more business than shelter from Mother Nature.

My biggest concern is why sell? What is the purpose? What will the equity be put towards? Selling for selling sake is not justifiable. Lrudlrick knows this is my concern. I think until the purpose is determined, I will continue to have anxiety.

Although the purpose hasn’t been determined, research continues. So we spent all weekend scouring papers and brokers. While biking, we visited various neighborhoods to get a feel of the area. Did you know that people can actually live in a 350 sq ft apartment and say it’s a convertible 2?

I’m trying to be optimistic though. Lrudlrick has been commuting for over 5 years now and it’s only fair that I take a brunt of it for awhile.

We’re not moving tomorrow or at least that’s what I’m told today but we’re not closing our eyes either. I suppose it’s time for the real estate agents migratory flight. I’m trying to let the chips fall where they may and I hope my angst will soon pass.

"I want to ride my bicycle... I want to ride my bike."

I want to thank Lrudlrick for lugging my bike for nearly 40 blocks home. His bicep has been throbbing for two days since the fateful day I got a flat.

Since everyone was leaving the city for the first weekend of summer, we thought staying in would be the best bet. Besides, all we wanted was RnR which we did get, except for the flat.

So we spent the entire weekend biking around Manhattan. The city was so quiet that I completely forgot how much noise my poor ears filter during a regular day here. The ladies on the train who do not understand the concept of decibel control were the only cogs in my otherwise quiet weekend. Ok, that and the flat tire.

I was slowly mastering riding on and off curbs when poof! Of course, Lrudlrick was three blocks ahead of me. Hubby looked at it and we quietly began our 30+ block walk home. See, it was Sunday and it was after 5pm. Every bike shop in the area was closed. So we walked. Like Smurfs, we trudged up and down.

So thank you, Lrudlrick, for carrying my bike. I’ll make you another compress tonight.

In related bike news, I rode on the street next to crazy taxis! My heart never pounded so hard in my life. Oh, and sorry to the guy sitting in the red hatchback. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I just need leverage and your car was there.

Sunday, May 29, 2005

"I'm crazy for trying...And crazy for crying..."

I grew up in the Bronx in an Irish Italian neighborhood. Everyone knew everyone. It was a little piece of suburbia within the harden city during the 70’s.

Back then, you planted roots. You got married, bought a house and had children. I didn’t realize how much this affected me until today.

Readers know that I have had a hard time dealing with the prospect of another move. I always thought it was because I was too tired to think of another move. Moves are strenuous enough but tack on a case of OCD which requires me to label, itemize and photograph every box and you’ve got a downright nightmare.

I also have grown to love my neighborhood and the people in my neighborhood. We may not know each other aside from our daily routines but we’ve built this strange bond. “Didn’t see you Thursday.” “Took a day off.” “That’s good.”

However, I realized today, well Friday late night, that the real reason I’m apprehensive of moving is my childhood. Whether wrong or right, I thought by the time we bought our second apartment together we’d settle down and start a family; just like how I grew up.

Now, I’m not suggesting we be like my mother who won’t leave our house even if was ablaze. I’m not like that. I’m willing to move. I’m just getting used to it and it’s hard.

In our 8 ½ years together, we’ve lived in 5 apartments, owned 2 and spent 7 years in the same neighborhood.

Now, the thought is to sell our place, forget about suburbia and move to a rental. Silly as this may sound, my initial thought was we were going back to before and I was hoping to go towards the future. I know, it’s not so but that’s what popped into my head.

I know that in today’s market, it’s better to rent and we can save more for something better later. But what is that better? If every 3 years, our plans keep straying further and further apart.

I’m not ashamed to say I’m scared. I’m not ashamed to say that I put silly thoughts into this apartment. A year from now at the new place, I’ll probably laugh this off.

There once was a future that I lived towards. Now, it’s changed. The picture has completely been altered and I’m just getting used to it.

Friday, May 27, 2005

"I can’t, I can’t, I can’t stand losing"

A few people have asked me about ‘24’ and the finale.

To recap, I spent Saturday, Sunday and Monday catching up on 6 hours of ‘24’, forsaking sunlight, chores, meals and all other DVR’d programs so I could at last enjoy the two hour finale last Monday.

At Monday at precisely 10pm, disaster struck when we discovered our DVR taped VH1’s “Maxim’s excuse to show 100 hot females in bikinis and nighties.” Email me if you want a copy, although VH1 is notorious with it’s repeats.

Sure, I could got to The 24 Insider and get spoilers or even wait around to read the recap but it’s not the same.

Thankfully our friend, Colin, DVR’d it and burned a copy for us. Sure we can transmit it to each other’s DVR but it’s more fun to have Hubby transport the ‘goods’ through midtown. Lrudlrick called me on Tuesday at 10pm, “We’ve made contact. The package is in play. I repeat the package is in play.” I had to stop chopping the onions and garlic to avoid chopping a digit off.

pg: Return to home base. Return to home base. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.
L: Copy. I’m on my way.

Lrudlrick got home. We ate our dinner faster than a child anxious to get more play outdoors before the sunset. We plopped our asses on the sofa, dimmed the lights and pressed play.

Tick tick tick tick. Yes! Finally we get to see what happens to Jack, the Chinese, Marwan and Wannabe Nixon.

Just as Michelle received the second call from Mandy, click.

L: What’s going on?
pg: I don’t know.
L: Why does the logo say ‘UPN’? Is that Corbin Bernsen?
pg: I don’t know but that looks like the girl from American Pie.

Damn you, cruel fate that is ‘24’! Damn you! I’ve dedicated my entire tv season to watch you. Why?

We called our friend and he said that his DVR probably did that by accident and to fast forward a half hour. Faster than a rolling O, Lrudlrick hit the fast forward button hoping we’d catch up to the last hour. Thankfully it was there.
We spent the next ten minutes reading the timeline and then continued.

For all that we went through, the finale has definitely peaked my interest for Day 5. I mean, what else can possibly happen? I have my ideas but I’ve got until the end of the year to share them. BTW, Lrudlrick, Chloe would not make a good match for Jack.
Next year though, I'll try to keep up and watch the "events happen in real time."

Thursday, May 26, 2005

"You've got me turning up and turning down"

You ever have one of those days at work where you blink, it’s 5pm and your desk looks like a natural disaster blew by your office? Today was one of those days. I used brain cells that have been hiding dormant.
A spectrum of emotions befuddled me; anxiety, euphoria, anger, complacency, contentment. The last one came after I stole 5 minutes to eat a chocolate pudding.

All I can say is, “What just happened?”

My poor co-workers watched as I fought with a printer and screamed at my monitor.
But alas, the day is over and tomorrow is another day.
I’ll just leave you today with a quick note to the guy I saw on the street by the train station.


Dear Sir:

No, I am not Lucy Liu.
In fact, I do not look like nor am I related to any of the following people:

Margaret Cho
Sandra Oh
Zhang Ziyi
Michelle Yeoh
GoGo Although, I’ve dressed like her for Halloween.
Kaity Tong
Bai Ling
Kristi Yamaguchi
The Pearl Cream Lady
Michelle Kwan
Michelle Yeoh
Mrs. Povich

For the record, I don’t like being told I look like someone. You think it’s a compliment but it’s not. Seriously. I’d like to think I’m unique even in my Banana Republic jacket and my Gap hat.

If you feel the dire need to say I look like someone, stay within the right nationality. Better, yet, don’t talk to a total stranger! Unless my hair is on fire or I’m about to walk into oncoming traffic, let’s just keep our heads down and go about our morning business.

Thank you and have a nice evening.
BTW, did anyone tell you, you look like Steve Zahn from Happy, Texas?

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Killer confesses after victim's blog entry is read.

Lifehacker pointed out an article in the NY Daily News regarding the Ng brother and sister murder a few weeks ago.

Looks like Simon Ng's entry into his blog lead to the confession by the sister's ex-boyfriend.

Creepy. I sincerely hope the parents have some closure soon.

Tag Your It.

Indigo tagged me for the following 5:

1. Total volume of music files on my computer?
Do you work for the RIAA? I have no clue. It's scattered b/w work and home. I'll confess that I'm one of those people that will listen to an album/song until it's dead. Right now, I'm stuck on Shakira but I've started leaning towards Joss Stone's new album.

2. The last CD I bought was:
Handsome Boy Modeling School import single to 'The World's Gone Mad'. I was curious to hear parts 2 and 3.

3. Song playing right now:
I Melt With You by Modern English and if not for the fact that my office door is wide open now, I'd be bopping like Molly Ringwald in Breakfast Club. :-)

4. Five songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me:
"Blue Skies" - Ella Fitzgerald version
"20th Century Boy" - TRex
"Darts of Pleasure" - Franz Ferdinand
"I'd Rather Dance with You" - Kings of Convenience
"I've Seen All Good People" - Yes

05. Which 5 people are you passing this baton to?
I pass this on to whomever wants to add their 2 cents. It's short and sweet. :-D

“You’ve got to keep movin’ or you’ll be left behind.”

We just finished watching Star Wars and decided to take a cab home. Now, as any NYC resident knows, you stick you body out as far out into the street as possible to grab the attention of the driver. You need to be just far enough out into the street that you can grab a cab but not get hit by one or by a bike messenger. You don’t wait at the corner with your hand up and expect them to stop for you. We’ve seen many out-of-towners desperately try to flag a cab this way.

As Lrudlrick flung his body out into the street, a lady in Pink shouted, “Excuse me, sir, but I was here first.” Throngs of moviegoers have just exited the theatre and are now milling around the street looking for a cab. This woman chooses to tell us that we’re in her ‘turf’. Everyone around us at the movie theatre looked at her like she had two heads. We smiled and politely moved up one block and chuckled. Tourist, we said.

It didn’t end there though. She followed us up the block. Apparently her territory expands past 68th and Broadway. As she followed us, I spied three different couples grabbing taxis in her ‘space’ but for some reason, she latched onto us. Clearly, this was a personal vendetta.

For the next 5 minutes we watched her run around the perimeter of Broadway b/w 67th and 68th trying to out beat us to a taxi. It was like watching Pacman. She weaved in and out of lanes going northbound then southbound in the hopes a cab would stop for her. It became so comical that at one point, she stopped traffic going southbound to get into a cab. She rolled down her window and gave us a charming gesture. We smiled and gave her the thumbs up.

10 seconds later, her taxi halts, leaving a bottle neck of cars honking. 20 seconds later, she gets out of the taxi. She shouts, “He won’t turn the cab around for me.” We smile and shrug our shoulders.

I’m not sure what was more entertaining that night, the pink lady trying to hail a cab or Star Wars. Pink Lady, if you are reading this, thank you for your street performance. Let us know where you’ll be playing next and we’ll tell friends.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

"Here it comes... Here comes your nineteenth nervous breakdown"

I’m in a slight mood today.
See, we spent all weekend catching up on ‘24’ so we could watch the two hour finale last night.

We finally finished the last episode last night around 10pm and were set to watch the two hour wrap up.

Dinner had been eaten.
Dishes had been washed.
Lights were dimmed.
Snacks and drinks were at hand.
Lrudlrick searched our DVR menu and clicked play.

Then it happened. What was recorded didn’t look like ‘24’. In fact, it looked a lot like scantily clad woman glistened with oil staring coyly at the camera.

“This is Maxim’s Hottest 100 Women on VH1.”

Damn you Rachel Perry! Damn you!

In disbelief, Lrudlrick searched our DVR menu again and hit play. Nope. He didn’t choose the wrong show. No, he didn’t set up the DVR to record the Top 100 List. That was me. Just kidding. Seriously.

I ran into the bedroom’s DVR. Everything for the day was recorded incorrectly.

Damn you cruel fate! Damn you!

Then I found it. See, for the DVR to change your cable box channels, they use this infrared thing-a-ma-jiggy that sticks to your cable box. Well, I guess I knocked it out this morning. It was now dangling beside the cable box, mocking and laughing at me.

Damn you thing-a-ma-jiggy! Damn you!

You’d think we’d be upset. Three days of ‘24’ to be left waiting with bated breath for a rerun that won’t be. BTW, the powers that be must re-instate the FX repeats of ‘24’.

Thankfully, our friend, Colin has a DVR and will be sending us the 120 minutes we’ve been working towards. Thanks Colin. If you need a copy of Maxim’s Top 100 Hottest Women, we have it to share.

Monday, May 23, 2005

"Time is Tight"

In the hopes of catching up for tonight’s season finale, Lrudlrick and I have spent all weekend watching 6 hours of ‘24’. Needless to say, my brain is fried. I’ve never wanted to bitch slap my television screen more than this past weekend. BTW, am I the only who thinks President Logan looks like a skinny Nixon?

Anyway, since I’ve still got one more ep before tonight’s two hour bonanza, I’m using my free time to bring my tortured brain back to reality. You know, pay the bills, do some work, eat.

We finally went to bed at 3am. I turned over to try to get some shut eye. I begin the workday math. Hmm, if I sleep hard now and get a large coffee, skip the bagel and change the meeting to a quick conference call, I think I can make it through the day without passing out. Then I hear it, the sound of digital ticking. Then the velvety rough voice, “Last time on 24…”

L: You’re going to sleep?
pg: Dude, I have to work tomorrow.
L: There is one more episode.

In my head I was saying, “It’s 3am.” However, the message didn’t pass through the synapses fast enough because the next thing I know my alarm went off.

Watching the Los Angeles Counter Terrorism Unit at work for hours upon hours has taught Lrudlrick and I some valuable lessons.

1. Lrudlrick could never be part of any tactile unit: field operations or systems end. His lack of direction and spatial relations would be a detriment and a safety hazard to the entire team. “Stop telling me it’s north by northwest. Is it next to the big tree on the right hand side?”

2. Pantrygirl could never be part of any tactile unit: field operations or systems end. Firstly, every single woman in ‘24’ has been tortured. Some have been raped. Some have been killed. Those that survive suffer irreparable damage to their psyche thusly affecting their personal relationships. Those who haven’t been tortured, raped or killed (Hi, Chloe) have serious social skill issues that crown them Ms. Loner at lunchtime.
Secondly, I really hate torture. I’d squeal like a pig in a Chinese restaurant.

I can see the appeal of Jack Bauer to a woman, though. Sure, the risk to your life jumps up tenfold if you date him but how safe must it feel knowing that Jack Bauer is your boyfriend. Anyone tries to mess with you is a dead person. What power! “What do you mean my laundry isn’t ready yet? Jack!”

Of course, there is the downside. The long work hours. The constant threat of danger. The expensive cell phone bills. The incredibly filthy laundry. The cancelled dinner plans. Oh, and certain death.

Dear CTU Employees:

Dear CTU Employees:

1. Do you even have a break room? No one eats at CTU. They don’t take breaks. They don’t have hour lunches. I suppose they don’t follow the standard government agency union rules.

2. Do CTU employees have mandatory ‘team-builder’ outings? I’m not talking about the kind where you collaboratively make a boat out of logs. I’m referring to the hokey bowling/tennis/softball/company picnic outings that HR feels will build strong social bonds between co-workers. It seems like the geek squad at CTU may benefit from a few hours out in the sun and away from their monitors.

3. Finally, your health benefits must include a kick ass mental health program. If not, I think you guys should petition for one.


Sincerely,

A concerned citizen

P.S. Keep up the good work and don’t forget to change your passcodes!

Friday, May 20, 2005

A fair warning to SNL watchers...

With all the talk about Saddam's undies and the Geneva convention, I am forewarning everyone that there is a high probability that Horatio Sanz may show up in his tighty whities this Saturday.

I'm still trying to sear the image of Will Ferrell in an American Flag thong out of my memory.

Be forewarned...

"Quizas, Quizas, Quizas"

Today, I’m in a good mood. Then again, every Friday, I’m in a good mood. Today’s theme song is Pop Muzik and Rock me, Amadeus. One of Lrudlrick’s young programmers asked him if he had every heard of a song called Rock me, Amadeus. Aside from giving my husband another reference in his ‘I’m so old” spiel, Matt has now impressed Rock me, Amadeus into an endless loop in my brain.

L: Was that Falco or was it that guy who did the Puttin’ on the Ritz?
PG: Not sure.
L: Was it the guy who died in the car crash or the other guy?
PG: No clue.

For the record it was Falco and he died in a car crash and Puttin’ on the Ritz was performed by Taco which strangely doesn’t rhyme with Falco.

Thinking about obscure German lyrics made me think of the other big hits of the 80’s, Der Kommissar and
Nena’s 99 Luftballons. BTW, I personally prefer the German version of 99 Luftballons. In general, I pretty much prefer any foreign language song in it’s original form. The one song I like translated is Secret Agent Man. I think The Plugz version is the one I’m referring to, try to grab it.

Shakira needs to take my advice and stay with Spanish with her songs. Her attempt at English lyrics was a bit scary.

Shakira, seeing the success of the songs above, you do not need to translate your songs for us. If it’s got a catchy beat it will stick in our heads and that’s all that counts. Take, La Tortura for example. The entire song is in Spanish. I have no idea what you are saying but I love it. I can’t stop wiggling my hips to it. Now, I’m going to confess now that I am fascinated with your new video and perhaps that’s the reason I have your song stuck in my head.

Have any of you seen it? It’s pretty much Shakira gyrating with only a bra and a loincloth on and being doused in motor oil. Anyway, some creepy guy who I gather is Alejandro, the guest singer, ogles Shakira from his hot girlfriend’s apartment window. From my limited Spanish, it sounds like he is still sexually pining for Shakira, he’s ex-lover, but she’s not having it.

Back to the motor oil, I don’t understand how the motor oil comes in. Nor do I understand the appeal of slicking a naked woman with motor oil from head to toe. I suppose this is a guy thing but honestly, if my husband came home with two containers of 10W-40 and asked me to slick myself, I’d have to question his fetishes.

Sure a female body wet and slippery is appealing but motor oil? I suppose next I’ll hear about a new chain of lube shops where scantily clad women change your oil.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Draw a pig...

Draw a Pig


Ribs, The Cow looking Pig

First ADHD now Cognitive Limitations...

A new report states 'cognitive limitations' as a factor to why teens forget to do their chores.

Apparently, they grow out of it. When I was younger, it was smacked out of me. Ok, truthfully I don't count. My OCD and Anal Retentiveness resulted in my parent's dealing with a 9 year old who did her own laundry, labelled all her belongings and constructed a lending library using an old stamp, envelopes and index cards.

Are results similiar in males vs females? I highly doubt it. I'm waiting for my husband to say, "Honey, I'm sorry I forgot to install that fixture. I've got cognitive limitations."

Star Wars, Part Deux. The Force is with Us.

Yesterday evening, I mentioned a peeve of mine. Well, I guess I wasn’t in the right frame of mind because last night was an ugly night. Lrudlrick made it home around 8ish. I suppose we were bouncing off of each other’s negative vibes (No, I’m not hippy dippy but you know what I mean) because we pretty much stayed out of each other’s way until dinner was served at 9:30.

Dinner consisted of Big Mac Salads. You make all the ingredients and skip the 1 and a half buns. I call it the ‘Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a cold salad plate.” I know it doesn’t ring like the original but heck, my arteries are much happier and I still get that yummy ‘special sauce’ I hanker for every now and then. Get your mind out of the gutter. Sure the special sauce is essentially 1000 island dressing but if you really want to try to make it like McDonald’s here is the recipe courtesy of Stuff you can use:
1/4 cup KRAFT Miracle Whip
1/4 cup mayonnaise
2 Tablespoons, heaping, WISHBONE deluxe French salad dressing (the orange stuff)
1/2 Tablespoon HEINZ sweet relish
2 teaspoons, heaping, VLASIC dill pickle relish (Heinz dill relish also works)
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon dried, minced onion
1 teaspoon white vinegar
1 teaspoon ketchup
1/8 teaspoon salt

Mix everything very well in a small container. There better be no streaks! Microwave 25 seconds, and stir well again. Cover, and refrigerate at LEAST 1 hour before using.( to allow all of the flavors to "meld". ) Makes nearly 1 cup...enough for about 8 Big Macs™

Going back to last night, let’s just say because I harbored a bit of resentment I was a bit moody. Did I mention that the Dry Cleaners didn’t have his stuff ready? Yup, I stopped my errands to do his errands to find out his stuff wouldn’t be ready until tonight.

Anyway, we got into the car to go to Star Wars. Since we waited so long we couldn’t get tickets downtown and wound up driving up to Westchester County. We get there twenty minutes before showtime and as predicted all the seats were taken. They began shuttling us over to another theatre for the 12:20 showing when Lrudlrick popped his cork.

L: I didn’t want to come in the first place. It just seemed forced. No pun intended.
P: What? We’re always going to the midnight shows.
L: Yeah but I’ve had a horrible day and I told you I thought it wasn’t a good idea and that we’d suck up our losses and stay in.
P: You told me that I had an attitude and that we shouldn’t go until I got my attitude straightened out.
L: Yeah, and then you insisted and so we’re here now and I just want to go home.
P: Fine. Let’s just get our money back.
L: Good Luck.

We did get our money back, btw. Why do men just give up? Honestly, ask and you shall receive.

Anyway, it wasn’t until we were in the car when Lrudlrick went off on how horrible a day it was. That’s when it dawned on me. All the signs were there and I just didn’t see it. I couldn’t see it. I’m a female. When we have horrendous days, we talk until we’re blue in the face. We talk to neighbors, friends, spouses, parents, co-workers, mailmen and strangers on the subway. We just rant and rant and rant. BTW, this explains the influx of female bloggers in the blogsphere. I suppose misery does love company. We talk it out and then, it’s over. We feel better and that’s it.

Men just want the damn day to be done. There’s no need to rehash the day. It’s passed. Let’s just try to lay low until the day is over.

Lrudlrick was having a horrible day and he just wanted my help with the one thing he wanted to do, get his leather ‘Jack Bauer’ jacket back from the cleaners. It was the one thing that was his silver lining for the day. Instead of being a woman and saying, “Listen, I had a terrible day at work and I’d really like it if you could pick up the leather jacket,” he IM’d me, “Can you pick up the jacket?” and then promptly disappeared.

I suppose the whole night wouldn’t have been so terrible if we both weren’t in moods. I’m sure my hissy fit regarding my plans vs. his plans didn’t help. I did apologize to him and he apologized for ruining my plans.

So Star Wars was a bust for us but we’re scheduled again for tonight or tomorrow depending on how he feels after his hapkido class tonight. Personally, I’m a bit exhausted and it took every bit of my energy to get my butt in the car last night but if he wants to go, then a Starbucks run will be top priority. After all, Jedi mind control is a powerful force.


(AP Photo/Karel Navarro) Courtesy of Yahoo News.
Who knew Vadar was multi-lingual.

Remember, to relish the rare opportunity for adult conversation.

You know you need to spend some more time in the company of adults when your conversations with ‘grown-ups’ references a character from a kid’s program.

One of the assistants here just referenced a Sesame Street Hanukkah video when she was introduced to another assistant.

“I’ll call you Veronica Hanukkah because that’s the character in Elmo’s video about Hanukkah.”
“oh, ok.”

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

"It's time for Paw Wipe.. (oh oh yeah yeah) Paw Wip-ing..."

Working so close to our apartment has left me as the default for everything doggie. I walk the dogs in the morning. I walk the dogs when I get home. If there is a get together after work, I need to go home, walk the dogs then go back out. My husband usually makes it to the function on time and I’m scrambling to get my ass there before it’s over. I was even late for the baseball game last week because I had to rush home for the dogs. By the time I got my drink from the concession stand, we were on the 4th inning and everyone left by the 6th.

Lrudlrick walks them when he gets back from his martial arts or gym sessions. He takes them on the weekend so I suppose it balances out.

I am peeved at the fact that when he does walk them, he will ask me to wipe their paws and bums. Yes, we wipe bums and paws before we allow them back in the house. We live near the park so you would not believe what they can track in.

Personally, I know it’s not a big deal so I just do it but it drives me nuts that he asks me while I’m doing things, like making dinner or folding laundry or really engrossed in an article or picking up his droppings. I never ask him to wipe dog ass when I walk them. True, he’s not home most of the times but still, when he is home, I do it.

I just dislike how he assumes I’ll be home for them even on days he’s scheduled to come home on time. It would be nice to be able to get home and not have to worry about the dogs once in awhile. Instead, I’m walking the dogs and wondering where my husband is and when is he going to be home. My logic is simple. If there isn’t any big function or if his gym bag and rollerblades are still by the door, then I can assume he’s heading home after work. Unfortunately my logic doesn’t really work.

BTW, my husband goes to the gym a lot so it’s not like the clothes marinate for long but he leaves his old clothes in there until he’s ready to go to the gym again. Why can’t men unpack the sweaty socks when they get home? Instead I find them all crumpled, crunchy and balled in the hamper. I’ve stopped complaining since he’s taken over laundry duty. He washes, dries and I fold. It seems to be working out.

Tonight, I hoped to do some errands before heading home. I IM’d him to make sure that he’d be home for the dogs. That innocent IM has turned into me walking the dogs and picking up his dry cleaning. Oh, and he did get tickets to the midnight show so I’ve got that in store for tonight. $5.00 he’ll ask me to walk the dogs while he picks up the car and after the movie so he can park the car.

We’ve hired dog walkers in the past. It worked out for a while but then they got used to the multiple walks and the weekends were spent rushing home to make sure the dogs had their walk. Plus, explaining to our family that we pay a person to walk our dogs was getting a bit tiring. “They’re robbing you blind.” “Ok, ma.”

Again, I’m not angry or disgruntled. Heck, if it really was a problem, the simple solution would be to get rid of P and Z. But I love them and I’ll do what I have to do to make sure my cheap rugs don’t get soiled. I just wish they’d learn to use the damn toilet already.

And yes, the title are the lyrics I sing to "Car Wash" when I wipe their paws.

"Aww Star Wars. Nothing but Star Wars. Give me those Star Wars. Don't let them end."

It’s May and babies are busting out all over. My cousin had her son, Liam, on Saturday. He’s a darling. Of course, the first day they sort of look like old men but heck, they’re still cute. It takes awhile for them to plump back up. I can best describe them as raisins that need a good soaking in rum.

I won’t go into a lengthy discussion on Star Wars today. I will tell you that my husband seemed a bit disappointed I didn’t purchase tickets yet. I told him to purchase them himself. Heck, he took Friday off just so he could recoup. “Oh. Me? Ok.” That was yesterday and odds are he hasn’t purchased them yet which means we’ll never get into the midnight showing.

Yes, we’re the ubergeeks that go to midnight showings. Harry Potter, Star Wars, Spiderman, The Matrix; we were alongside the geekdom. We just don’t dress up. Honest. Ok, maybe once.

How would kids cut into these midnight screenings? According to some parents they don’t. I remember reading an article about a couple that left their toddler home alone so they could catch the midnight screening of Star Wars. Now, I wouldn’t go that far. Although now that I think about it, technically speaking, he/she wouldn’t be alone if my dogs were there. But some people bring their offspring with them to the show.

First of all, don’t kids have a scheduled bed time? Secondly, I’m not so sure that subjecting a child to the ‘Dark Side’ so early will leave a positive affect on them. When I was younger, my dad so desperately wanted to see Scarface, he dragged me and my brother with him. Let’s just say I can’t look at chainsaws and bathtubs the same ever again.

Finally, let’s have some courtesy for your fellow moviegoers. If your kid can’t make it past a 90 minute movie without running up and down the aisle or needs to be breastfed at some point during the movie, let’s rethink the plan.

Now I have nothing against children at movies. I just think children shouldn’t be viewing midnight screenings nor should they be at an adult-oriented movie, especially if they can’t sit still for long periods of time.

I know certain chains have begun mommy and me movie showings which seem like a good idea. What if they also offered some type of daycare area? Suppose you want to see War of the Worlds and little Johnny isn’t quite old enough to view this program, for the price of a kid’s ticket, little Johnny can go to the kidaplex where adult childcare supervisors watch your kid while they check out Lindsey Lohan in Herbie the Love Bug. Parents would receive a radius pager and will be paged if they are needed.

I know this probably is cost prohibitive in a society where lawsuits abound. So until this becomes feasible, I ask all ubergeek parents to be courteous and let your fellow geeks enjoy searching for goofs and continuity gaps without distractions.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

View from the bunker

I finally 'installed' windows in my office.


Pantrygirl's windows

"In my happy home"

Lrudlrick decided it might be fun to check out two bedroom apartments in the area. So armed with The New York Times Real Estate section, we perused the area apartments on Sunday. We learned that living in a gigantic one bedroom in an art deco building will make just about any apartment look small and stark.

My husband wasn’t so keen on the model apartments we saw in a new building that is being erected. Sure, the kitchen looked like one from The Food Network and the two bathrooms were modern works of art but the rest of the apartment looked like a Volvo. I felt like I was in a box the entire time.

Another apartment we saw was much smaller but had more personality. The kitchen was in dire need of an upgrade though. In true NYC style, the current owners have a tiny stove and no counter space. The owner placed a butcher block on top of the four mini burners as a workspace. Lrudlrick looked into the kitchen and immediately said I wouldn’t be able to cook like this.

As we walked home, Lrudlrick declared, “We do have a giant apartment.” Is he finally feeling what I was feeling during his initial “Let’s move to a house” phase? This is the first apartment I really put my heart into and it’s going to be a bear trying to leave it.

I said what?

Call me a masochist but I just told my boss that if given a choice to go to systems vs. administrative, I’d stick with administrative. Actually, I told her that I’m enjoying the interaction between departments that I didn’t have in systems; which is sort of true. If you recall, a few weeks ago I said I would try to be more outgoing and meet with the departments. This is really not like me but I’ve been doing it for a few weeks now and I’m slightly enjoying it. I wouldn’t mind being in systems if I could be the point person with the client instead of the point person to the software vendors. Am I finally acclimating to my surroundings? I feel like a chameleon.

Monday, May 16, 2005

"Show me yours, I'll show you mine!"

While discussing childbirth my friend said, “If I had the pain with the humiliation, it wouldn’t have been so bad. But since I could register everything going on, I was twice as humiliated.”
I’ve never given birth so I couldn’t tell you but when I was a coach to my friend for her first pregnancy, humiliation was not a thought in her brain. I saw every part imaginable and that was before we arrived at the hospital.
It all began when her breasts sprouted like onions. “Check these out!”
pg:Holy crap! Put those away. We’re in a small changing room.
“In Peas in a Pod. Trust me, no one here is going to care if I’m flying free.”

Leave it to the only non-pregnant woman in the store to hide from the site of boobs. Now I'm not a prude. I've just never seen the bits and pieces my friend revealed to me throughout her pregnancy in the light I had seen them. Talk about catching a person off guard. I had no idea flesh could turn that color.

Of course this topic came up because our co-worker’s wife finally popped and gave birth to two healthy baby girls. 5.5 lbs and 5 lbs. At the hospital she called several friends for advice. Not just any advice mind you. She needed the real advice. Apparently, sponge baths, bowel movements, hospital gowns and bathing rituals are the topics not discussed in any pregnancy book. The mommies in the office wanted the author of The Girlfriend’s Guide Series to include these topics. There I was with another childless co-worker, listening to the mommies talk about the advice no one tells you about childbirth. Now I know why they are never mentioned.
If they mentioned what happens to your body and what happens to your dignity, the human race would certainly dwindle in size.
Flabby asses, sterile rooms and allergic reactions to anesthesia were all heated topics. Apparently, you may be anesthetized but your pride and dignity are fully cognizant of the fact that your hospital gown is hiked up to your boobs and its mighty cold in a sterile room.
Oh, and apparently, your husband could probably charge admission and rake in a down payment for a house from all the residents and physicians that take a gander at your bits.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

"Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right"

It’s amazing how much New Yorkers give up when it comes to personal space. I’m not talking about our apartments. That’s for another day. I’m talking about the lack of personal space when on mass transit. It’s remarkable how we cope with this invasion. Most of us lose ourselves in a book or a newspaper. We create a wall of sorts against the marauders. With our view obstructed by our reading material and our ears plugged into our iPods, we try to forget that a 5’11" man is hovering over us with stains under his arm that loom closer and closer as the train jerks down its predefined path.

Tuesday evening, I got assaulted by a gut. Yes, a gut. This gut wasn’t like any other gut. Imagine Tony Soprano’s gut and Big Pussy’s gut. Put them both together and you might get what this guy had. I was on my way home from the Mariners at Yankees game. BTW, I’m liking this new pitcher, Wang. It’s time we’ve got some young blood back in the team. Anyone who has gone to a Yankees game and taken mass transit will attest to the MTA’s refusal to leave the station without packing people like sardines into each metal car.

Unfortunately, I found a seat and sat. It was at the end of the bench so I was right by the doors. This was a wrong move on my part. Just as I sat down, a drove of fans descended the staircase and made their way into the car. A pudgy older gentleman made his way to stand in front of me. His gut was honed to perfection by nightly sessions at his favorite pub. Although his gut bulged into my space, it was manageable. I sat there quietly staring at my phone anxiously waiting for the doors to close. “Buddy, right here!” said Mr. Beer Gut. I turned to my left to meet a gut of all guts hanging over the railing and practically touching my tiny nose. Like a total eclipse I was thrown into darkness under the shade of a giant gut. He was wearing a white shirt and I can tell you that the shirt was stretched to maximum capacity. He was a big and tall dude. If he said his name was Mongo, I’d believe him. We were so close I could have used his gut as a pillow. So I immediately turned my head back to the front and I did something I never thought I’d do on a train home from a Yankees game, I began to pray. Honestly, I was scared. “Stuck in the middle with you” played in my head and I envisioned these two gut guys dancing like Michael Madsen. The kid next to me looked at me and tried to scoot over to the right to help me out but it was useless.

Ten minutes at the station and were still not moving. I’d reach for my PDA to read the news but I barely had room to lift my arm up to check the time. So I sat there staring at my lap and prayed. The conductor finally closed the doors and the train jerked forward. It was the longest ride of my life. Longer than the time the train stopped in between stops for 20 minutes and I was stuck with a smelly homeless guy in the same car. At one point the bigger of the two fell forward and I thought I was a goner.

Why didn’t I say anything? Lrudlrick said I should have taken a pen out and poked the bellies back a few inches. I suppose I was intimidated. I was literally sandwiched between two men who could have slammed me into their bellies and no one in the train would have noticed injured me until the train made it back to the depot.

Now, I’m a polite person on the train. I don’t eat on the train. I don’t take two seats. I stow my baggage away or place it on my lap. I even get up when I see a pregnant woman or an elderly person. I don’t think it’s necessary for a person to hover over me and intimidate me with their belly.

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

My first addiction...

This morning, I kept humming the Sugar Crisps theme song. This led me to think about all the cereals I have eaten in my lifetime.

1. Sugar Smacks
Why the hell are they shaped like camel toes? If the mascot is a frog, shouldn’t it be frog-like? I suppose sugar coated webbed feet isn’t the most appealing looking item to eat but what about frog eyes? Are they supposed to resemble the warts on a toad? If so, frogs and toads are different.

2. Frosted Flakes, Fruit Loops, Lucky Charms, Cocoa and Fruity Pebbles and Trix
At some point in my life, my body has rejected these sugary goods. Some just don’t look right to me. i.e. fruity pebbles. They look like the colored gravel in my husband’s old fish tank. I find myself gagging after each spoonful. This pains me because it means my palate is swaying and I fear grape nuts may not be too far behind.

3. Grape Nuts
Yes, I did try this stuff. Who the hell eats this stuff? I thought hey, it looks like sprinkles for ice cream. Let me try. Man, they may resemble the chocolate crunchies from Carvel but they are no chocolate crunchies. Besides the taste, I felt like my teeth were going to fall off.

4. Life, Chex, Rice Krispies and anything puffy and checkerboard-like
Man oh man, I love these things. I can eat an entire box by myself. There something about the little checkerboards that satisfies my OCD. It’s a very calming experience. I imagine the calmness like the oneness a Tibetan monk must feel connected with the universe.

5. Apple Jacks
We all know there aren’t any apples and only the marketing geniuses at Kellogg’s know why they are orange with pink specs. However, you don’t need to be a kid to know these darn things are simply delicious. Unlike most of my cereal, I prefer these to be a bit on the soggy side. I like how puffy and spongy they look.

6. Cheerios
Since we’re talking about donut shaped cereals, I must mention my love of Cheerios. You don’t mess with simplicity.

7. Total and any Corn Flake cereal
My husband can’t get enough of Corn Flakes. An ex-boyfriend would stock up on Total cereal. Personally, I can skip flake cereal but I can handle an occasional Raisin Bran. Don’t get me wrong, I love flake cereal but it gets too soggy for me too quickly. I’m a slow cereal eater. I like to know that the last few bites aren’t going to be a decomposing mess of milk and grains.

8. Wheaties
I have a confession. I’ve never had Wheaties. They look like corn flakes to me. What do these thing taste like? I just never had a hankering for Wheaties nor has anyone else I’ve asked.

9. Alpha bits, Cap'n Crunch, Cocoa Puffs, Count Chocula
I eat these cereals merely because their mascots are cute. Ok, Alpha bits doesn’t have a mascot unless you count the giant ‘A’ but it’s cool to make words out of your food. I never got a chance to it Boo Berry or FrankenBerry. My mother felt the characters looked too stoned for her kids to eat them so she stockpiled us with cereal so addictive a hopped up Bird, Rabbit and Burglar have to go around stealing it from kids.

10. Corn Pops, Cookie Crisps, Honey Combs, Golden Grahams and Kix
If I had to choose my favorite ‘kids’ cereals, these babies would be it. I’d add Apple Jacks but I personally feel Apple Jacks is an adult cereal. I see more adults eating them than kids.

Monday, May 09, 2005

"The love you take is equal to the love you make."

Sunday evening ended with 12 dozen chocolate chip walnut cookies. As a ploy to get donations for City Harvest’s Skip Lunch Feed the Hungry, I made cookies to distribute. I had already whet the appetites of Lrudlrick’s co-workers with almond muffins Friday and wanted to seal the deal with killer cookies. At one point, Lrudlrick came into the kitchen, kissed my forehead and said he was the luckiest man to be married to me. I responded with a desperate plea to have him fold the clean laundry sitting in the hallway. Yes, our newlywed years have clearly flown out the door along with my sanity. By 11:45, I baked my last batch of cookies, Lrudlrick folded the laundry and the two dogs kept running away from the psycho cookie maker. Guys, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to step on you but you can’t lie flat on the kitchen floor and expect not to get trampled on.

Ok, folks I’m mentioning it again. It’s spring cleaning time. When you hit the pantries, please consider donating any non-perishable unused items to your local shelter or food programs. It’s a small gesture that will not only help others but the return you get will be tenfold.

With that said, I want to thank all the contributors today to the Skip Lunch Feed the Hungry Day. The benevolence of my co-workers, friends and family has been enormous. It makes me feel good that I’m surrounded by such compassion.

Babies, Boobies and Fruit

After the car ordeal, we made it home by 5:30pm. Throughout this whole ordeal, I was worried that the evening plans would be ruined but things went well. In fact it was a welcome surprise after the craziness of the day. We went to Caroline’s for some much needed comedy. It was quite fun. I hadn’t been to a comedy club since the early 90’s. Afterwards, we walked around Times Square. BTW, I find it odd that adult shops are restricted to non-residential areas but adult videos can advertise willy-nilly in gigantic lit advertisements. Don’t believe me? Head to 48th and Broadway, by the Hershey store and look towards the eastside. You will see a giant three dimensional video cover with Jenna Jameson on the cover. I should have taken a picture but I didn’t want to look like a perv. Ok, who am I kidding, I doubt I’d look like the perv. I’d have my husband take the picture so he’d be the perv.

Sunday, Mom’s Day was spent as usual, church, martial arts and chores. Before you guys ask, yes, I called my mother for Mother’s Day. I even sent her a basket of fruit. Funny thing about my presents to my mother, I send her flowers, fruit and stuff every now and then. I usually do this for my MIL as well. Every time, my MIL calls to thank me for the wonderful surprise. My mother doesn’t call me and when I do speak to her, she tells me that she received a package but it didn’t have who it was from. This causes her to call all her friends and family to thank them for the gifts they didn’t send. Why she doesn’t think it would be from her daughter, especially after the third delivery, why I’m family and I have never received a call and why my MIL receives a gift card and my mom doesn’t alludes me. We called our moms and some aunts and that was that.

Then Lrudlrick turned to me and told me that he wanted to wish me a Happy Mom’s Day because I was his ‘hot mama’. Ok, everyone puke. It’s ok. In what I call the geisha move, I instinctually smiled, looked away and giggled. Now, this instinct is common in many women I know. You don’t need to be Asian to do the geisha move. You just need a man to say something so cheesy yet complimentary. Your response can either be point and laugh or giggle and look away.

His comment though made me think about motherhood again. Throughout the day, I saw so many kids and parents. Some were doing errands. Some were at the park enjoying the weather. So many adults are out there with newborns. How did they dive in? Did they bypass the apprehension and the fear or did they go through what I’m going through?

I was reminded again this morning as I visited a colleague who’s wife is about to pop. They are having twins. How can he be so calm? After they found out they were going to have twins, his wife said they needed to sell their brand new home and buy a bigger one. He’s been busy since buying and selling their new home fixing it up that he hasn’t had a free weekend in awhile. Sure he complained the kids weren’t in the world yet and they’ve already monopolized his free time but aside from that, he’s rather calm.

Someone asked me if I was apprehensive about parenthood because my relationship with my mother. No. I love my mom and although we have issues and she wasn’t the mom you’d see on television, she was my mom and I’d like to say she played a part in who I am today. She did the best she could for a young woman in a new country. She raised me like a younger sister and that gave me many fond memories. If I were to have children, I doubt I’d raise them the same way but heck, it doesn’t mean it was wrong.

My fears are really selfish fears. Change in lifestyle. Change in priorities. Responsibilities to others not just myself and my husband. And what if I can’t provide my child with the best possible advantages. “Stop being self-centered. Any child we have will be loved beyond loved and we’ll give him/her the best we can give them. There are children out there desperate for the simple things and you’re afraid we can’t afford private school?” Lrudlrick said during a moment of extreme clarity.

I know he’s right.

"Smiling Faces Sometimes"

Happy Belated Mother’s Day to all mom’s out there. Yes, it’s a Hallmark holiday and yes, one day to celebrate all you do seems unbalanced but you are appreciated every day. Mother’s Day brought beautiful weather this year. I spent Mother’s Day searching for dog food and doing housework but it wasn’t as awful as it sounds. This actually turned out to be a very nice weekend, break-in and all.

Break-in? What break-in?

First a recap of the weekend. On Friday, I took the day off and finally finished the diaper cake for my cousin.

Here is the cake at 75% completion.

I forgot to take a final picture before I shipped it. I packaged it gingerly and had the post office pick up my three packages. It was the first time I used the free pick up service from the post office. They show up at your door and you hand them your packages. It was strange to see my post man knocking on my door to pick up items.

With my prep table cleared of all baby stuff, I was able to focus on my great cookie bake off. First, I had to finish another present, this time for a friend who just got married in France. Nothing big. I took some pictures from the wedding and put them in a silver frame with a decorated mat. Of course, I ran out of metal embellishments and needed to pick some up at the craft store.

Now, at this point, I should have gotten in the car, which I parked by the park instead of the garage, and picked up the much needed dog food and the embellishments. Of course, my lazy butt decided Saturday would be a fine day to do errands and instead started cleaning out my closet and sorting through stuff to donate.

BTW, I have 25 free hangers. 25! How did I get so many free hangers?
Saturday came. You ever have one of those mornings where you wake up and I wouldn’t say you’re walking on sunshine but everything seems to fit into place? That was my morning, at least for the first two hours. I shuffled my way into the kitchen and made myself some tea. The house was still quiet so I enjoyed my tea while flipping through the Times. I yawned and decided it was time to get dressed and do my errands. I headed outside, smiled at the warm sun and waved hello to my neighbor. I rounded the bend to my car, C4 and unlocked the doors. I opened the back seat door to plop in my shopping cart and found glass all over the interior. Someone broke into my beloved C4! At this point, I most point out that I my car talks. Not like Herbie with the beeps and the headlights flashing. My car has a female voice. As my brain slowly realized what happened, I swore my car said, “It’s about bloody time you showed up! Leaving me here for two days without checking in on me! Look what happened!”

My car was parked with next to two other Accords, but I must say C4 with her dark grey tinted windows was definitely the hottie of the three. I’d understand why she was the victim. The first thing I checked for was the airbag and the battery. Using my crime scene skills learned from many hours of CSI and Law and Order and their respective sisters, I surmised no one went passed the backseat. The glove compartment was untouched and everything else seemed to be where it was in the first place.


C4 Violated

I called my husband who was getting ready to bike to the gym. “Did they take my glasses?”
pg: What?
Lrudlrick: Did they take my sunglasses?
pg: Well, I thought I made a thorough assessment but I hadn’t thought to check for your sunglasses.
Lrudlrick: Are the cds still there?

Obviously, our priorities are on different bands in the spectrum. For those interested, the sunglasses and cds were still there as well as the roll of quarters, EZ-Pass and registration.

With our plans shot, I called the vet to tell them to hold the dog food until Monday and waited for the cops. Lrudlrick spent the early afternoon calling the insurance company and arranging for the glass to be fixed.
The cops came and both officers kept telling me it was a shame it happened to such a smoking car. Ok, I said smoking but I knew they were thinking it.

After several arguments with Auto Glass dealers recommended by the insurance company, I let my fingers do the walking and found a place open until 5 in the city’s capital for auto parts, Hunts Point. You may have heard of it from HBO’s documentary Hookers at the Point. What they don’t mention is that every part a person needs for their car can be found here as well and at extremely discounted prices. I suppose the parts are from cars ‘idling’ during the wee of night. We go the glass fixed but they claimed we need another part for the window to roll down so we need to go back before our cousin’s Communion party on Saturday. At least we have a window.

Now, you would think that we’d be really angry and upset but throughout the whole event, we were quite calm and in fact extremely cooperative with one another. I don’t know if this was a stepping stone in our relationship or just two extremely lazy people who wanted excuses to avoid chores and the gym. I suppose my husband summed it up best, “We did worse as kids. Besides, it looks like someone just wanted a warm place to spend the rainy night in. At least the car is still here.”

True that. Once my car was towed and I nearly had a heart attack when I couldn’t find my car. Ok, twice.

If someone needed shelter from the rain Friday night, it’s a shame he/she had to break into my car to do so but at least he/she was nice enough to leave everything semi unscathed. Now, I just need to get the leather upholstery fixed and the switch installed.

Help feed the hungry children today.

I want to remind everyone that today is City Harvest's Skip Lunch, Fight Hunger initiative.

Skipping a meal won't make you fit into that summer swimsuit overnight but it can make a difference to 500,000 children.

Remember, Monday is City Harvest's Skip Lunch, Fight Hunger Day. By giving up that morning bagel, that second slice of pizza or the afternoon mocha grande frappucino you can help feed a hungry child in NYC.

Contributions will help the approximately 1.6 million New Yorkers, including half a million children, who turn to soup kitchens or food pantries this year for their meals.

Interested in contributing? Check out their website.

I'll be back later to recap my crazy weekend. In short, fruit with no name, a homeless man's shelter and the violation of C4 and the attack of the chocolate chip witch.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

So my spelling award was worthless?

I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid. Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer inwaht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? yaeh and I awlyas thought slpeling was ipmorantt.

Wednesday, May 04, 2005

"Is you is, or is you ain't, my baby?"

I’m obsessed.
I can’t help it.
It all started when a bag of chicken bones hit me on the head.

See, my freezer is appalling. It is stuffed to the brim with food. It takes 4 hands to hold everything in place, 1 hand to hold the door open and another hand to pull out the Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia. So, I’ve been toying with the idea of buying a stand alone freezer. I know. I know. Pantrygirl, a stand alone freezer in a Manhattan apartment? Inconceivable! Well, I didn’t think I’d have a pantry. I can be an innovator. Besides, the little old lady who lived in her shoe needs some company.

So I’ve been eyeballing small (<5 cubic feet) freezers. I’ve learned that in Manhattan, no one sells tiny freezers. Why the hell should they? It’s inconceivable!

I was teetering but I think I’m pretty sure I’m going to get one. The final straw was the avalanche that fell upon me last night. I was looking for the extra pancetta I stashed in the freezer. I heard the wicked creak of a freeze-dried bag shift. Soon everything was popping out. A bag of tater tots. Two lbs of ground beef. The chicken bones. Two pints of ice cream. A bag of summer berries. I felt like Tom from Tom and Jerry when he had to catch all the items in the kitchen Jerry was flinging at him. I can’t find a picture of it but here is a picture of one of my all-time favorite Tom and Jerry episodes:


Solid Serenade -- Courtesy of Tom and Jerry Online

Now, I can’t stop thinking about what I can do with a freezer. I can finally get that ice cream maker doodad and make fresh ice cream for the summer. I can also store a turkey. Past Thanksgivings involved a giant cooler on the fire escape and a lot of ice and brining solution. Boy, my mind is swarming with endless possibilities. Ice Cream. Cheaper prices for bulk meat. Ice Cream. Freezing soups. Sorbet. Ice Cream. Did I mention, Ice Cream?

Ok, I need to get back to reality. We’ll probably have to do some re-arranging to get the sucker in the kitchen. I’d love for it to be in the pantry but my husband would probably kill me if I asked him to add an electrical line in there. Secondly, I’d probably have to climb on top of that thing to grab items from the top shelves.
My other dilemma is cost. I’m trying to stay relatively sane and keeping it under $200. To hit that magic mark, I need to ensure this thing doesn’t need to be delivered or the store has free delivery. HAHAHAHAHAHHA. I made myself laugh. Free Delivery in NYC. HAHAHAHAHHAHA. For non-NYC-ers, nothing is free. Ok. The dry cleaners, Chinese Food and Pizza, excluding Dominos has free delivery. Heck, you get charged $20.00 from Bed, Bath and Beyond if you decide to be civil and not carry the giant 6 foot behind-the-toilet rack on the subway.

So my next best alternative I can think of is going to Jersey or Westchester and hoping their appliance stores have stand-alone freezers. If a leather high back recliner can be strapped onto our sedan, a tiny freezer should too, right? This is a lot of work for ice cream, isn’t it?

"Apples, Peaches, Pumpkin Pie...Soon your love will be all mine."

I didn’t make the Raspberry Chocolate Cake I was hoping to. When I got to the raspberries, a disgusting layer of mold had formed in the middle. C'est La Vie! I didn’t need to eat the entire cake so close to Summer season, anyhow.

This morning, Pat Kiernan brought up a few articles that I had to share with you:
• This is the last I’ll speak of the Runaway Bride. The NYPost’s columnist, Andrea Peyser discusses the fame associated with this media spectacle. “JENNIFER Wilbanks hails from a slice of the South where 32-year-old never-married women are either insane, in prison or gay.” Now, I’m not one to say whether this is true but when my cousin married his bride, her family told me that she was the ‘old maid’ of the family and they were fearful. She was 19, 4 years younger than I was.

• On Sunday, Lrudlrick and our cousins were having a beer at Union Square and the topic of Critical Mass was mentioned. Critical Mass is a once a month occurrence where bicyclist take to the streets. I believe it started to raise awareness of non-pollution forms of transportation. You can find more info on this event in your town at http://www.critical-mass.org/. Well, in NYC, Critical Mass has been going on since I was in college. It was rather peaceful. As Lrudlrick puts it, “The idiots at CM had to have realized that all hell would break loose after the Republican National convention debacle.” Dan Barry must have been sitting next to us because he writes about it in today’s NY Times. “Officers stand ready to snare bikers with netting...”

• Stephen Colbert fans rejoice. A new half hour show is scheduled for Comedy Central’s fall line up. The Colbert Report will air after ‘The Daily Show’ and lampoon cable news talk show hosts. Whatever happens, please keep ‘This Week In God’. I love that segment.

Back to pantrygirl land, last weekend Lrudlrick and I were at Tower Records on the Upper Westside. We left empty handed. With iTunes, it didn’t seem economical to buy a cd when we’ve only heard one song on the entire album. This made me a bit sad thinking of all the missed gems I may overlook because I’m letting my music tastes fall into that sales-worthy music category. With the proliferation of individual program based stations on XM radio, I’m hoping it will stunt it.

We got hungry and decided to stop by this Italian restaurant we discovered two weeks prior. The name eludes me. As we were seated, the waiter, who reminds me of Poppi from Seinfeld, comes by and says, “Welcome back.” “Uh, thanks.” I had no idea we made an impression the last time we were here. I hope business isn’t that slow.

In general, we’re pretty non-descript people. We weren’t trying to make a nice impression. In fact, I recall wearing ratty jeans and a ribbed turtleneck. That’s pretty non-descript. Nothing freakish happened while we were there last. Lrudlrick has now decided this is ‘Our Place’. Ok.

Two days later, we’re at a diner in Chelsea and the wait staff was practically folding napkins onto our lap. “This is Our Breakfast Place.” Ok.

Note to all restaurants in NYC: to get an ‘Our Place’ rating in the Lrudlrick Guide to Great Eats, be sure to be super attentive to the wavy haired man wearing jeans and a Henley.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just a small note on the song in my head, Apple, Peaches, Pumpkin Pie. Now that I think about it, this guy is a stalker.

"You just keep ignoring me.
I'll find you anywhere you go,
I'll follow you high and low.
You can't escape this love of mine anytime.
Well, I'll sneak up behind you,
Be careful where I find you."

I've been bopping to a stalker.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

You heard it hear:

"Quick, let's get out of here before someone takes a picture of us. I've got enough to be accountable for." -- Lrudlrick as we walked past the May Day Rally at Union Square.

"Thanks for all the fish"

It’s been awhile. The beginning of the month is always hectic here. My plans to be more extroverted and get my ass out of the chair have been going. I’ve even stopped by offices just to say hi. Man, this is so not like me. It’s too early to tell if this changes my outlook here but we’ll find out how long I can keep this grin up.

My head is still swarming with work stuff but I’ll just point out a few things from the weekend:

1. Rock, Paper, Scissor
Leave it to Christie’s to do the right thing and take advice from the experts, children. “Everybody knows you always start with scissors," she added. "Rock is way too obvious, and scissors beats paper." Flora piped in. "Since they were beginners, scissors was definitely the safest," she said, adding that if the other side were also to choose scissors and another round was required, the correct play would be to stick to scissors - because, as Alice explained, "Everybody expects you to choose rock."

2. “Have some dignity, man.” -- Lrudlrick
Ok, I’ve now learned what happens when a person tries to plan a wedding with 600 guests. Ok, maybe she didn’t plan it to be so gargantuan. My mother tried desperately to balloon our guest list to 200. Her guest list included people I didn’t even know. Some of the people she listed were under suspicious titles. Apparently, I have 35 ‘Aunts’ and ‘Uncles’ I have either never met or met during my incubation in my mother’s womb. BTW, the correct response to your mother when she wants to invite Estelle, her hair dresser, is “You get one table, ma. One table. You can invite whomever for this table but remember, it only has 8 seats.” If you’re footing the bill and your mother suggests she pay for ‘her tables’ like my mother did, you can either reiterate ‘One Table, Ma’ until your blue in the face or change your wedding plans like I did. A destination wedding for 20 was the best move for us.

Back to Ms. Brat, soon to be, Mrs. Get Out of Jail Free card. I don’t understand this. You still want to marry her? Sure stress makes you do crazy things but I’d like to think she could run to her future husband to air it out. How will she handle the stress of pregnancy, motherhood, wifedom and career?

Ok, I don’t know the whole story, nor do I want to. Everyone says she has issues. No one even knows if she wanted the 600 guests.

I’m going to believe that this isn’t her fault but rather the fault of stupidity inbreeding. After the plans for a wedding ballooned out of their control, the couple mutually agreed to elope in Vegas. She was going to take the first bus out and he’d meet her after he got off of work. Unfortunately, the husband realized he forgot his passport and went home to retrieve it. When he got home, his uncle was there and he had to wait until he left to get his passport. Wondering if he left yet, the bride to be calls home to find out where he was. The uncle picks up the phone and she freaks. Since her voice would be distant sounding because of her location, she makes up some crazy scheme about ‘Puerto Ricans’ kidnapping her. Not knowing what to do, the husband plays along. From there, everything was blown out of proportion. All 50 police officers were called out to search for the missing bride and CNN, based in Atlanta, gets called. It’s sensationalism of the stupid, ladies and gentlemen.

BTW, I have family in Georgia. I love Georgia except when kin decide to get married in the dead heat of August and the church doesn’t have air conditioning. However, much needs to be said about an education system that considered using the phrase ‘biological changes over time’ to avoid the use of the word, "evolution".

3. Hitching a ride, where? Spoiler alert…
I saw Hitchhiker’s Guide on Sunday. I’ve never read the book. I thought it was cute and laughed heartily at times. I love off kilter British humor but the movie seemed a bit incomplete. Americans want answers. Why do I have to know where my towel is? Why is Marvin so depressed? Why does Malkovich want the gun? Why are the little kid people mice? Did they die or just evaporate? Why can’t a computer make a decent cup of tea?

Those who have read Hitchhiker’s, are these questions answered? If I read this book, am I going to finish it with more questions? Oh, and am I the only person that can’t get the dolphin song out of my head?

Tonight's menu:

Chocolate Raspberry Cake

Why can't cakes be for 1 or 2 servings? I hate baking a cake and having to eat it all by myself. Guess, I'm going to make mini-cakes and bring some in to work.