I would describe this as nothing less than "fierce"

The girls over at Gingers Is the Watchword love Beyonce. And I totally get it. I won't lie, when "Irreplaceable" first came out I was all over it. And I think her new song, "All My Single Ladies", is pretty catchy. I concede that B. Knowles is an awesome singer and great performer.

But once in a great while there comes a time when even the most devout Beyonce fans have to admit that, on a occasion, there is someone who can do it better than the great BK.

Justin Timberlake & Beyonce - Parodie "Single Ladies" SNL
by Rock_You_Justin

Coffee, Christ, and some cussing

Every so often, when I'm missing the Motherland, I log onto one of the local radio stations' websites and listen for a few hours. It both makes me smile and makes me homesick, but it mostly keeps the memories of my friends and family fresh in my mind. (It also helps with not forgetting the language.)

This morning I was listening to the station's live feed when a popular song from this past summer came on. It reminded me, among other things, of one day in particular. I was sitting at a cafe on the main road in my town. The terrace of this particular cafe ends right at the street, separated only by some hedges. A car pulled up to a break in the hedges, stopping dead in the middle of the busy road. It was the town priest. He rolled down the passenger window and yelled to my cousin, "Is Elvira here?" (Elvira is the proprietor of the cafe.) When my cousin answered no, the priest started to drive off, but not before some cars behind him started beeping. At the top of his lungs, and with a typical Motherland hand gesture, he screamed "Ah wait a second you son of a whore!"

Nescafe Vanilla promptly shot out of my nose and much coughing ensued. It was truly a great moment.

Random quotes

"If I were President, there would be a one child limit. Depending on your intelligence, we may allow you a second."

It would be cool if this were true

I heard a pretty awesome story the other day. I have no idea if it's true (it sounds like one of those made-up love stories) but I thought I'd share it regardless.

So girl meets guy, girl falls in love with guy, guy and girl get married. They buy a house together and girl (now 27) moves all her stuff out of her parents' garage. She's unpacking in the new house and comes across some pictures from a trip she took to Europe after college. She's going through the photos and notices a familiar face in the background of some pictures from Spain. Upon closer inspection, she realizes it's her husband! It turns out that 5 years ago, they were both in Barcelona, at Park Guell, at the same time. Crazy!

I always wonder about stuff like this when I'm taking pictures and catch random people in the background. Have I ever seen them before? Will I see them again? Or will we never even know that our paths crossed until we see pictures years later?

Better yet, what happens when I get caught in someone else's background? Do these people have pictures of background-me up in their homes? Am I made fun of for what I'm wearing or having a weird expression? When they show people their vacation photos, do they have to explain the chick in the background getting in the way of their every pose?

Makes me wonder...

...is one of those dudes my future hubby?

The only way this could've been funnier is if she'd said Uncle Ben

Scene: N and I are talking about my (hopeful) move to San Diego:

N: And you're gonna have to start paying back your student loans soon. Big Ben's gonna come calling.
Me: Big Ben?
N: Yeah.
Confused pause
Me: You mean the clock tower in London?
N: You know, the guy that points. Pointing motion. With the hat.
Me: The one that says, "I want YOU!"?
N: Yeah, him.
Me: That's Uncle Sam.

Seriously?

"A South Carolina Roman Catholic priest has told his parishioners that they should refrain from receiving Holy Communion if they voted for Barack Obama because the Democratic president-elect supports abortion, and supporting him 'constitutes material cooperation with intrinsic evil.'"

Here is the priest's reasoning:

"Our nation has chosen for its chief executive the most radical pro-abortion politician ever to serve in the United States Senate or to run for president. Voting for a pro-abortion politician when a plausible pro-life alternative exists constitutes material cooperation with intrinsic evil, and those Catholics who do so place themselves outside of the full communion of Christ's Church and under the judgment of divine law. Persons in this condition should not receive Holy Communion until and unless they are reconciled to God in the Sacrament of Penance, lest they eat and drink their own condemnation."

Wow. Seriously?

Connecting, connected, waiting, SERVICE NOT AVAILABLE

Patience is a virtue, they say. I suppose that's true. Patience is a good thing to have when you're dealing with, say, screaming children or a line at the DMV. Patience prevents people from exchanging insults or throwing sharp objects at each other. It's also what kept me from choking a Delta Airlines employee when it took me 36 hours to get home from Reno one time.

Patience, however, should not be tested when waiting for things like test results. Or if you won the lottery. And trying desperately to get into a website for almost 4 hours to find out such things is just ridiculous. What happened to the good ole days when we got test results in the mail? There was no anxious waiting in front a computer screen, getting your hopes up every time the page loaded past "Connected," only to have them crushed like a watermelon under an elephant's enormous foot when that little circle kept turning. When we got results in the mail, you weren't tied to your computer, staring incessantly at the screen, willing it to load; you just waited around for the mail to come. And when it did, and your results weren't included, you got frustrated for two minutes and continued on with your day.

What I'm trying to say is, the New York State Bar Exam results came out 9am this morning and I STILL DON'T KNOW IF I PASSED. Not that I think I passed, I probably failed. I didn't exactly put a valiant effort into studying, what with not wanting to be an attorney and all. But still... it would be nice to know what kind of shitfaced I'm getting tonight.

UPDATE: I PASSED THE BAR EXAM!!!!!

How much my law degree means to me

I graduated from law school in May of this year. Sometime in late August, while I was laying on a European beach and trying to forget the living hell that was the bar exam, my school sent me a postcard informing me that my diploma was ready.

Today is November 13th and I am just now going to pick it up.

Because I care about more than just baking cookies

I try to keep politics away from this blog for many reasons. First, I didn't intend for this website to be an outlet for my political views. No matter how right I think I am about my views on abortion or the economy, there will always be someone out there who disagrees with me. And I respect that. Accordingly, I try not to shove my opinions down other people's throats and preach that my way is the right way. Secondly, I didn't want to turn this site into a forum for political discussions. Everyone is entitled to read a website at their leisure without feeling like they have to disagree with what's posted. This site was meant to entertain, not incite.

There are times, however, when I can't help but express my views. There are times when I read something in the newspaper or see something on TV that I find so morally wrong that I can't help but comment on it. And that urge to speak up is severely exaggerated when that something is not only socially irresponsible, but borderline unconstitutional. And that "something" is the state of California voting "yes" on Proposition 8.

I am not gay. I have but one member of my immediate family who is gay. I don't have any close friends who are gay. I don't frequent gay bars on a regular basis or attend parades. The issue of gay marriage minimally affects me in a personal way, if at all. Yet I can't help but find what happened in California on election day nothing short of reprehensible. A state that makes up 12% of this country's population essentially declared that a certain class of citizens had the right to marry, a right which they are fundamentally entitled to under our Constitution and need not be "given," and then took it away. In the wake of making such monumental history, on the same day that this country elected a black man as president, fifty-two perfect of California's population decided that it should not be legal for members of the same sex to marry each other.

I could spend HOURS talking about why this is wrong, why it's illegal, why it's disgusting, why this is exactly the reason I am wary of religion. But rather then argue my opinion by repeating all the points that have already been made by Bill Maher, Margaret Cho and Perez Hilton, I offer you the following comment by MSNBC news correspondant Keith Olbermann. He sums up my feelings on this issue perfectly.




Thanks, Steve

Organic isn't always "better"

My mom is a huge health nut. Anything that she can find that's organic, she buys. Consequently, I've developed a taste for things like organic milk, free range eggs, organic produce and meat, etc. And for the most part, organic isn't only better for you, but tastes better, too. Even when I lived alone I bought organic milk because after years of drinking it, regular milk tastes weird to me.

But there are limits here, people. There's a difference between buying an organic chicken and buying organic chocolate chip cookies. "But they're better for you, they have less fat and less sugar," my mother argued. Mom, why would I want to eat cookies that are good for me? When I look for a cookie, I'm not looking to see which one has the least amount of calories; I'm looking for the one that tastes the yummiest. And that's usually the one that has the most artificial crap in it.

I made myself pancakes this morning. But I didn't use Aunt Jamima pancake mix, no sir. I used Whole Foods Organic Waffle and Pancake Mix. Made with whole wheat flour and no preservatives. And it was disgusting. We're talking PANCAKES, people. The weekend breakfast treat that takes 20 minutes to prepare, the meal you eat with butter and syrup. There's a whole chain of restaurants dedicated specifically to the pancake, for dude's sake. Why one earth would ANYONE want to healthy that up? How do you even market that? "Disappoint your kids this weekend with a whole wheat breakfast, complete with organic maple sap that has NO SUGAR!"

There are just certain foods that are not meant to be good for you. By their very nature, they are fatty and glutenous and delicious, and that's why they're called "treats" or "desserts": because they're not meant to be eaten in excess. If we had bacon and pancakes every morning for breakfast, we'd all weigh 300lbs and die at 40. But when you start taking the carbs and the fat out of these treats, when you start making everything organic and with no fun artificial crap, you're taking the fun out of eating it. I don't want low-fat cheesecake. I'm not interested in a sugar-free, glutton-free organic brownie. And I certainly don't want whole wheat organic pancakes the three times a year I eat them. You may as well put a plate of hay in front of me and save yourself the 20 minutes it took to make the pancakes because, honestly, they taste no different.

Tell Sloan I said "what up"

I heart Entourage with a passion comparable to the love I have for lobster tacos. It's a deep-rooted, palpable love that is stronger than the ties I have to certain friends. Vince, Turtle, E, Drama and Ari have been my paramours for 30 minutes on 13 Sundays for 4 years now, and I will be heartbroken when I have to say goodbye to them. And that day will tragically come one day.

But until then, I will languish in their comedic relief, bask in their sarcastic humor, soak up every vulgarity and inappropriate comment that comes out of their mouths. Because really, what is life without a few gay Asian assistant jokes?

How to annoy me

Leave the dishes arranged in such a way that they all collapse in the dish rack at 1 o'clock in the morning, causing me to think there's an intruder in the house and walk out into the hallway armed with a can of air freshener and prayer that I won't be raped or killed.

Fun fact

Indian food will clear up your sinuses like THAT.

On being unemployed

Yesterday I made a pizza from scratch and baked two kinds of oatmeal cookies. Three days ago I baked buttermilk biscuits. A few days before that it was a raspberry tart, and a week before that, a cheesecake. Since I've been back from the Motherland, I have organized my house room by room, cleaned out my closet, driven my grandmother around, run errands, and babysat my 12-year old cousin. This all comes after 7 weeks of making pasta from scratch, doing dishes 3 times a day, cleaning and doing laundry for 9 people, picking up 2 kids from school, and fetching the occasional bucket of water from the well when the plumbing went out.

I need a motherfucking job.

A certain age

Age is a funny thing. People seem to want to classify each other in terms of age, use age as a life marker or milestone. And we never seem to be content with the age we are. When I was 16, I couldn't wait to be 18 so that I could be an "adult." When I was 18, I couldn't wait to turn 21 so that I could [legally] drink. And when I finally turned 21, I wanted to to be 25 because I thought that that was the magic number...the age at which you suddenly gain wisdom and maturity, the age at which a great job and boyfriend fall into your lap, when all of life's questions are magically answered and you know exactly what you want to do with your life.

Well let me tell you something: age aint' nothin' but a number.

I am now 26 years old, a law school graduate with no desire to practice law, a penchant for men who live long distances away, and a strong desire to move across the country and live on the beach. I am by no means the responsible, gainfully employed, one-half-of-a-couple adult I thought I'd be by now. None of life's questions have been answered for me. I didn't suddenly wake up one morning and realize what I wanted to do for the rest of my life; if anything, I have more questions now than I did at 23.

And you know what? I'm fine with all that. I truly am. I know that one day, things will fall into place for me and I'll be content. But until that happens, one of the most difficult aspects about not knowing where I'm going will be watching everyone else's lives fall into place. Here I am, debating whether to drive across the country with no job, no apartment, and no money, and my best friend is working 12 hour days for one of the biggest corporations in the world and planning her wedding. Friends from law school are in a position to turn down job offers while I want to pursue a career I didn't go to school for. Everyone seems to be getting engaged and moving in with their significant others, and all I can think about is how much I love sleeping in my own bed! (I have no desire to fight over who left towels on the bathroom floor, what's wrong with me?!) Where is the guidebook for this kind of stuff? Where is the manual that explains how to deal with being the maid of honor when you're single? Where is the Dummies guide to moving back in with your parents and easing the boredom by baking cookies? And my God, the amount of cookies and cakes and biscuits I've baked since I've been home...

But guess what? There is no guidebook. There are no answers. Being gainfully employed doesn't necessarily make you responsible. Turning 25 or 32 or 48 doesn't make you an adult. There is no magic wisdom that you suddenly wake up with upon turning a certain age. You make it up as you go along and hope it's the right decision. And if it's not, you try and fix it. You don't hide, you don't blame others, you you take responsibility for your decisions and you move on. And THAT is what makes you an adult.

WOOHOO!!!

I'd like to congratulate our new president-elect, Barack Obama. He is 47 years old and the first-ever African American president.

Folks, tonight we made history. I can't describe how proud I am to be an American at this very moment.

To everyone who voted today, YOU ROCK!!

Exercise your 19th amendment right!!

How to annoy me

Take a show off the air without any warning or information about if it's coming back. Wtf, CBS?

Because I fancy myself a food critic and a humanitarian

Six things that should never, ever be eaten or drunk alone.

Tonic without the gin. I recently bought a bottle of Tanqueray, and let me tell you something about tonic water: it tastes a little like vomit.

Burgers without the cheese. No offense to my Torah-reading friends, but it's just not the same.

Chicken broth without the bullion cube. Have you ever tasted unseasoned soup? It's like drinking a spoonful of hot water with just a hint of grease.

Cabbage without fish tacos. Little known fact about fish tacos: you're supposed to serve them with cabbage, not lettuce. I would have never known that if I hadn't gone to the City of Awesome.

Freshly baked bread without butter. Oh my God, have you ever had fresh bread? Like FRESH, crusty bread that's still warm? No? Well get your ass to a bakery the next time you're up at 5am and indulge me. There are fewer things better in life.

Wine without the stuff that makes it wine. Kick you feet up and get ready for a life lesson you will not soon forget. Before grapes ferment and become wine, winemakers (read: my uncles back in the Motherland) usually tap the barrels for what they call "young wine." They like to tell you it's sweet (it is), and that it won't get you drunk (it won't), and that it's good for you (questionable.) Really what it is, is a natural laxative. Two glasses of this stuff and you will have NO problem dropping the chocolate cobra. And just so we're clear, what I really mean is that you will shit your brains out. For argument's sake, let's say you only have one glass. No big deal, right? WRONG. One glass only ensures that you make three trips to the bathroom instead of five. Why am I telling you this? Because on the off chance that you read this before going to Italy or France or your uncle's garage and he's all, "Here, try my new wine," you can be all, "Has it fermented yet? Because if not, I'm really not in the mood for diarrhea today."

It was a valid question

This morning at a deli in Queens

Me: Is this place Kosher?
N, pointing to a deli case filled with ham and salami: Umm...
Me: I'm guessing no.