“Mr. Zinczenko’s roughly three-year relationship with the actress Rose McGowan drove many of the city’s male magazine editors out of their minds. How did he — a schlump moving copy — get her, a girl who should be wearing a negligee in the pages of a magazine, not in its editor’s bed? (Perhaps they’d forgotten that Clay Felker, the New York magazine founder, married Pamela Tiffin, a cream-puff movie star.)”—
First I made braised cabbage with apples, which entails sauteeing the cabbage and three peeled and chopped apples in a couple tablespoons of butter, adding chicken broth and salt and pepper, and simmmering everything for 20 minutes or so While it was cooking I cut a butternut squash in half and roasted it in the oven; I was simultaneously defrosting some chicken thighs. When the cabbage was done I ate some of it and divided the rest into two Glad containers (as seen on the Bravo television series Top Chef). As the squash roasted (one hour at 350; put butter, salt and pepper in the cavity) I chopped some carrots, sliced an onion, pressed a head of garlic and squeezed a lemon. When the squash was done I skinned it and put it in a bowl and mashed it with a potato masher, and split most of it between two more Glad containers. I ate a few bites of it. The chicken was almost defrosted so I mixed together salt, pepper, paprika and cinnamon and rubbed it on the chicken thighs, then browned them in two batches. Then I sauteed the onion, carrots and garlic, and mixed together water, lemon juice and honey. I put the chicken back in the pan and turned the heat down and added the water/lemon/honey mix, covered it and set the timer to half an hour. Then I remembered I had a few Brussels sprouts hanging around so I turned the oven back on, washed the roasting pan, cut the sprouts in half, doused them in olive oil and tossed them with salt and pepper, and stuck them in the oven. When the chicken was finished I put two thighs and some carrots and onion and sauce into each of the Glad containers (recall that two had cabbage and two had squash), and then the Brussels sprouts were done so I turned on the Eagles-Cowboys game and ate them. They were like a delicious salty, crunchy snack. The Glad containers are cooling right now because something I remember from the summer I worked in a restaurant is that the Health Department prefers that you let things cool to room temperature before you put them in the fridge; I also wash my hands after each time I handle raw chicken so if there were a Health Department grading system for home kitchens I’m pretty sure I would get an A.
The subjects and quoted individuals in “Mixing Drinks, Adding Class” do appear to be the worst people on Earth, adherents to a stereotype so unlikeable it evokes a reaction in the reader akin to ipecac. While the subjects are despicable, however, the sentiment is not. I work in an environment where I get to hear event and party planners hold forth on such concepts, weekly. One of the things they always say is to hire a bartender when you can. It adds an air of sophistication, sure, but it also frees you and your guests from having to look after the bar for yourself. On the whole, it is a wise idea if you can afford it. Maybe not at a party in a studio apartment with a guest list of 24, though, and that is what seems so aggravating. The whole thing smacks of a person desperate for us to acknowledge her inherent adulthood, her success as a resident of New York City, her completed transition to a character from a Woody Allen movie.
I’m slightly obsessed with the people who reblog the Rolling Stone Tumblr, because I feel like it gives me good Insight Into The Youth.
ON THE BARRY GIBB TALK SHOW. Lolololol Best.SNL.Sketch.EVER. Name’s Tami. 19 years young. Born and raised in the 3OH!3. I LOVE music. It basically completes my life because without it I’d probably not be here right now. It takes a process. When I’m in a bad mood, it starts with The All American Rejects, then The Beatles, Boys Like Girls, Jonas Brothers, We The Kings, and Big Time Rush. I’m a HUGE Rockies fan and will defend those boys to the death. Tulo’s my boy. I also am a fan of WWE. Evan Bourne is my most FAVORITE wrestler. I’m also a member of CeNation and even more so CeNexus. I’m kind of insane until you get to know me, then it becomes kind of expected. And even though it’s all cliche, I seriously would love peace in this world. Cupcakes= Love. Don’t judge me until you get to know me, but even then it wouldn’t matter. I figure this Tumblr’s kind of all these things put together. Mostly pictures. I reblog a lot. It’s my thing.
Oh also something else I was reminded of today is that sometimes it takes awhile, but you usually do find out, eventually, when someone you once considered a friend was talking shit behind your back. You know what? A true friend tells you to your face—they don’t need to badmouth you when you’re not around, because they actually want to work stuff out, not just make themselves feel better by bringing you down. Because ultimately it says more about them than it does about you, doesn’t it?
Winona Ryder’s Veronica Sawyer fulfilled some very specific high-school fantasies of ours in Heathers: Not only did she get the dark, brooding boyfriend who just happened to be played by Christian Slater (the fact that he turned out to be a homicidal maniac was incidental), but she was also smart and beautiful and could imitate anyone’s handwriting. And she wore amazing clothes, and she was rich, and she showed an important, almost survivalist capacity to be mean when she wanted to be (look, after all, at how she treated her onetime friend Betty Finn). These were all good reasons why the Heathers wanted her in their clique in the first place; they just never thought she’d bring them down from the inside. At the end of the film, we’re supposed to believe that she’d rather watch movies with Martha Dumptruck than conduct lunchtime polls, but if Veronica’s high-school life was anything like ours—and save for a few of the details, like being rich and beautiful and dating Christian Slater, it sort of was—she struggled with wanting to be liked by both the Martha Dumptrucks and the Heathers of Westerburg High til graduation.
Veronica wears one of our favorite outfits of hers at the beginning of the movie—it’s an ensemble that nods to both her rich-girl preppy and bohemian sides. Also, when broken down into its component parts, it seems completely unwearable, and yet—and yet!—it somehow, amazingly, works. —doree shafrir
This cozy Twelfth Street by Cynthia Vincent sweater would look great over a pair of skinny black jeans, but it also can be used as a super-fancy slanket on chilly nights.
Sexy and slouchy, this silk shirt by Rag & Bone can be dressed up or down, and the contrasting black buttons and oversize patch pocket give it more personality than most standard white options.
Veronica knew that showing too much leg at school was inappropriate, and this gray tweed high-waisted miniskirt by Girls of Savoy falls just this side of nice—without being dowdy.
It’s obvious that the costume designer for Gossip Girl spent many hours dissecting Veronica and the Heathers’ outfits, and these bright-blue tights from Anna Sui are the perfect shade of rebellious rich girl.
Oh my god you guys Latkefest was kind of epic this year. I was a little worried at first because the latkes were not … like…. GELLING or something. The first couple batches were way too hockey-puck-like but then I got into the groove, I started using the right amount of oil and exactly the right amount of heat and my last couple of batches were honestly amazing, even though at the last second I realized that I didn’t have any baking powder, which makes them just a teensy little bit better. Also let’s be real, Christmas lights are the best lighting and I played the music through the TV so people could actually hear it for once, and my friend brought hand puppet temporary tattoos and there was enough to drink and I didn’t run out of cups or ice or club soda (BECAUSE I BOUGHT A CASE OF IT), and it was crowded but not TOO crowded, and by the end of the night, after most of the people had left, the like 10 or so people who were still there and I had a dance party til I kicked everyone out at 3 that included such songs as “Back That Azz Up” and “Juicy” and “Rich Girl” and—possibly most crucially—The Steve Miller Band classic “Serenade.”
“A surprisingly large amount of correspondence in Claire’s Inbox is devoted to the scheduling and rescheduling of drinks and lunch dates, many of which do not actually transpire. One such date with “Peter,” a vague work acquaintance whose carefully worded e-mails and tendency toward the usage of lowercase letters indicate he would like to get a job at Claire’s company and/or sleep with Claire, was scheduled and rescheduled multiple times over the course of a year. The initial plans were made after Claire, in a burst of goodwill, and somewhat hung-over, made a casual suggestion in response to an e-mail to her work account from Peter (9/8/09: “We should really get drinks!”) that was seized upon by Peter, who suggested a variety of dates and venues. Claire agreed, only to cancel the day before (9/24/09) the event was to take place, citing “the flu.” (Alternative files, however, point to a different explanation: Claire had been invited to a party at which she believed a man she was interested in would be present: IMs from a different portion of the leaked documents show Claire instant-messaging a friend about the man in question: “I think he might be kind of gay,” she wrote on 9/15/09. “He talks about his mother and Lady Gaga a lot.” No explanation was given for her willingness to launch into a doomed, short-lived romance.) Later e-mails show Claire proposed an alternate date to Peter, which Peter rejected due to “a meeting” but proposed a dinner the following week, an e-mail that Claire did not answer for ten days. Plans were made and rearranged a total of 24 times before fizzling out in late November of 2010 after Claire’s suggestion they “get together after the holidays.””—WikiLeaks Releases New York Woman’s Personal Correspondence — Daily Intel
So I am contributing to Doree’s little idea (and this one has legs! because of the running! get it?!) because if I don’t keep talking/writing about my progress I won’t be as motivated. Also because I don’t want it to come off as annoying or braggy, but more as communal and share-y. Like, “this is what I’m doing, this is what I found, this is how I am making it through 30 miles a week,” etc.
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Prompt: Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).
Oh huh this is hard—I was trying to think of one moment and, you know, that was the thing about 2010—there were a lot of highs and lows and not too much in between. A lot of the moments where I felt most alive this year were outside: running a 10K in Central Park was pretty amazing, and so was learning to surf in the Rockaways, and doing the 5-borough bike tour, and picking berries in Oregon. But then I think about those things that seem really simple and ordinary but are just constant reminders of why it’s fun to be alive, like making out and singing karaoke and eating cauliflower.
“In recent years there has been an ongoing discussion over whether “Happy Holidays” or “Merry Christmas” should be the slogan of the season. This debate has been blown out of proportion and erroneously dubbed “a war on Christmas.””—
Prompt: Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?
I sort of feel like everything I do contributes to my writing. There are things that could be considered distractions—gchats! Tumblr! Twitter!—but in fact those are all acts of writing and creating and processing. I guess a more appropriate question for me would be “what do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to the kind of writing you think you should be doing”—but that raises a whole other host of questions, doesn’t it? Just because I’m not working on my novel doesn’t mean that the writing I AM doing doesn’t have value.
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?
2010: change. So much change this year, a lot of which I’m still processing. Someone said to me recently that change is fast, transition is slow. It’s true. I am generally so impatient for things to happen NOW NOW NOW that it’s been a challenge to slow down and allow myself to acknowledge all the changes that have happened.
“'When you've got the big house, and you're driving a Jaguar, what differentiates you from every asshole dentist in the Valley?' Shelley De Angelus, who worked for Broad as his curator in the eighties and nineties, said. 'Art was a way for Eli to distinguish himself.'”—
You know, my day started all rushed and crazy—I was determined to make it to the gym before work and I did but that meant basically running from the gym to work, and then a string from the hood of my parka got caught on my BAGGU when I tried to get the ID swipey card thing out of it so I could get into the elevator and I had to like wriggle out of my jacket, and then I arrived at work SWEATING because it was 60 DEGREES out this morning and also RAINING, and coffee was spilling on my hands, and I was SWEATING—and so it was somewhere around that time that I was like, today is going to suck isn’t it? (Did I mention I was SWEATING?) And so far it pretty much has! I’m like… ornery and cranky and wearing a WEIRD OUTFIT, as has been previously documented. So this is all by way of saying that I am excited for the Of A Kind party tonight because then, hopefully, today will redeem itself.