favorite things

oprah has a show about favorite things.  too bad oprah's stupid and her favorite things suck.  here are some of mine - with some pics of things previously mentioned, but never photographically backed up.  i also solicit readers and friends to submit their own.  perhaps i'll do a follow-up post with all of your fave stuff?  is that lame?  oh well, just do it and we'll cross that bridge later.

malin + goetz lime tonic cologne

way out wax soy candles (preferably 'cozy home' and 'cinnamon')

dr. bronner's liquid and bar soaps in rose, peppermint, and eucalyptus (the liquid version is ideal for scented soaks in the tub - and all of them can be used for laundry, brushing teeth, and washing dishes)

john master's organics lavender hair conditioner (at $25 a pop, i haven't yet splurged, but the samples i steal from whole foods make me feel like a goddess.  the smell is amazing and totally natural)

fat free coffeemate creamer (though i am a strong coffee purist - i usually drink a pot of espresso each day, this is delicious and comes in lots of flavors)

NARS lipstick in 'funny face' (some women are pussies when it comes to cosmetics.  i am not.  iridescent hot pink lipstick is unbearably rad and i'm gonna rock it until i'm in the grave)

OPI for sephora nail varnish in 'never enough shoes' (the title sucks, but the color is a nice spin on the black you see everywhere.  glossy black with bronze shimmer)

bruno frisoni heels (i've never owned a pair, but he's the master of sky high heels with shit on the toe (velvet ribbons, jeweled satin, etc) and we all know how i love it when feet look like little presents)

chanel lipstick in 'lotus rouge' (just enough red to shock against pale skin, with a little tinge of orange.  it makes me feel likea  geisha and it's well worth the price because it lasts forever)

virginia johnson and lotta jansdotter textiles and clothes (amazing cashmere wraps, sparse scandinavian dresses, greeting cards, and canvas totes abound with these two and they're are beautiful)

anemonies, asters, and poppies (forget about chichi bouquets of roses, it's all about the messy, cut from the farm posies that get my heart racing)

hugging dogs (duh)

gold eyeshadow and eyeliner (strike the right shade of gold (think tequila, not lame') and it looks positively goddessesque)

the afghan my nonna knit me a few years back that's moroccan themed with patches of zigzaggy colors

the pic of my great grandmother, the opera singer, topless with ascot discreetly covering her bosoms (the caption reads "honey, i knew you'd want to know how the gloves and ascot look. love, ruth. self portrait. honest (underlined for effect)")

cooking while listening to jazz

chatting with friends and family on the phone, in succession, until i'm so laughed and chatted out that i fall asleep

american apparel headbands in bright colors

lush karma powder (amazing when sprinkled on bed linens, in shoes, or in the summer as a body powder)

yves saint laurent anything (if i were rich, i'd uniform myself head-to-toe in ysl, but for now, i do have the lush patent leather, satin-lined anais bag, which makes me swoon each time i touch it)

the homeless sammy davis junior impersonator/singer at the park street t stop (i helped this dude get permanent housing awhile back and every time i see him in the morning, he says into the microphone, "there's my wife.  the white woman" before singing 'the candy man')

experimenting with impromptu french toast and pancake combinations on weekend mornings

marmalade

ballgowns

my dresser which features: a morning glory that abs needlepointed for my birthday, a picture of my mother from the seventies, my great grandmother's antique clock (rescued from my grandpa's horrible second wife - we nearly came to blows), photo booth sticker pictures of me and amber when we were 22, a textile amber gave me from zanzibar, a picture of brian holding a puppy, a pic of me, hays, and abs walking through fanieul hall in the winter.  it's the first thing i see when i wake up and the combination makes me very happy.

the super ridiculous pic amber took of me when i was 24 after a night out that involved a very sexy swedish hipster named kurt, dancing to bloc party, and making out on a manhattan roof deck.  i look peeved, but really, it was 7am and i was blissfully happy.

going to the farmer's market and buying lush produce (and the occasional pesto - yum) see pics below.

i want to know what i think and what i'm feeling.

hello, bloggies!  it's been awhile, mainly because i've been spending the week trying (a) not to worry about job stuff for chicago, (b) being drunk, and (c) being holed up in my apt. because of the rain.  but, the radio silence is good because it means i've been doing kewl (i'm utilizing teenage speak to be ironic.  buckle up.) things and this entry will be rich with pics and fables.  so, take a knee, kids and listen to auntie ashie tell you all about this week's bounty.

the work week was grueling and chock full of pimping and self-promotion with a not-what-i-expected-or-hoped-for response.  but, as mentioned in other entries, i've 'come to jesus' (as my dad would say) with the fact that i can only put in so much and other things/people/fate-controlled-kewlness (#2) play a big role in how shit pans out.  so, i am being breezy about this exploration and looking at my visit as an opportunity to have criminal amounts of fun, which, for those of you who really know me and the events of, oh, say, the past few years, i truly deserve.  speaking of criminal amounts of fun, i reunited with brennon, emerson pal of yore, on friday night and boy, did we fuck some shit up.  some things are different from the last time we hung out.  for one, we're not in college.  two, i no longer have red hair and i now shave my legs. three, brennon is, as he puts it so eloquently, "gay GAY," which is great, but a bit disappointing because he looked tres cute in his little hat and stripy shirt.  dare i say that we had a super cool (said with french accent, if you please) time dancing to 90's music at the common ground and befriending (or being adopted by?) a group of 21 year old Berklee students with piercings, tattoos, and belt buckles in the shape of boom boxes.  between me pouring beer on brennon out of excitement and rascalishness during soul decision's "faded," to brennon telling people that we were brother and sister, gf/bf, and various other lies to satisfy his devious side, the night was rich with whiskey shots, amstel lights, and bumpin', grinding, and singing along with the youth of today.  we were such a hit with these cats that they invited us to their after party in the fens (which resulted in me losing my very beautiful umbrella in the cab.  sadness.).  wow.  brennon and i were forthcoming with our ages (26 and 27, respectively) from the beginning and these kids seemed not to care, inviting us into their home that was littered with music posters, keyboards, and heineken keg cans.  it was a surreal experience.  not only were we hammered, but we both made out with the boys (odd? sure.) for like a second and suffered through vapid conversations from some tube-topped college girls who were talking about how they're "like best friends, but like SOOOO different" (brennon does a really good impersonation).  we left our pals shortly after arriving, crashed at my place (where b made fun of my bedspread ("it looks like the oil on top of chicken soup or pita bread" and thanked me for "letting me have night emissions in your pajama pants), and made a morning pilgrimage to mcd's for sausagey goodness to sop up hangovers that only get worse as we become more acutely aware of our age.  we then parted ways because i had to go get a facial (found a gift certificate a few days back that i'd won at a raffle) at a chichi medi spa, the kind of place where the wealthy get covertly nipped and tucked to the point of looking like shiny lionesses.  

so naturally, i felt pretty awesome rolling in in beat up jordache jeans (a total score at marshall's) and a 'skullberry' hoodie (a gift from brian from our early skateboarding days), sipping coffee in the waiting room while russian receptionists in sky high heels pranced by like gazelles.  i meet my aesthetician, tricia, who's been under the knife a few times, and she sits me down to have a consultation where she tells me shit i pretty much already know, but hell, i love talking skin care.  she announces triumphantly, "well, i don't think you need any plastic surgery or injectables today, so let's just go with a facial."  thanks, tricia.  because, ya know, at 27, i was really worried that i might need serious intervention.  jesus.  i felt a bit like a hyperactive kid at a shrink's office, bracing myself for a hardcore prescription and being spared...for now.  too funny.

the facial was pretty awesome - done with sound waves (i had to wear a bracelet to channel the current and everything - very johnny five) and water.  it felt rad and the relaxing asian sitar type music lulled me to sleep for a bit.  the coolest part was when tricia let me look in a mirror while she was doing the treatment and you could literally see shit being coaxed for my pores.  now, if you know me well, you know i love this stuff.  i have an unhealthy (but shared, haley and amber know) obsession with extraction.  as i told hays last night, "you know how in labyrinth ludo can call the rocks and they start rolling to him?  well, it was kind of like that."  she understood.  better than masturbation, folks (not the understanding, the facial).  the sound wave facial, also know as the "ultrasonic."  she recommended a toner and red tea oil, both of which are luxe and fun to use, and i woke up this morning with the complexion of a lil' peach - soft, dewy, and totally unfettered porcelain.  apparently, the upkeep requires treatments every week, but at $150 a pop (again, gift certificate, people), that will not be happening.

so i spent the rest of the rainy day eating saag paneer in my pajamas and received very entertaining texts from a 21 year old with a lip ring who was trying to woo me to go to a 'clothing optional' gig with him.  perhaps i'm wired wrong, but the idea of a clothing optional party actually makes me shudder, almost as much as sleeping with a 21 year old.  instead, i ignored said texts (they got unsolicitedly more racy the more i ignored.  you men.) in favor of watching 'beyond the sea' and 'the pianist' on ifc.  hi, adrian brody is gorgeous and talented (i want to run my hands all through his glossy hair and all over his pale face).  but don't watch that film unless you want to cry and be profoundly depressed.  oh, and i watched loads of 'keeping up appearances' which i fucking heart hardcore.  hyacinth bucket is pretty much the funniest character of all time.  it was the episode where her father was found cycling naked and fell in the river.  this calamity spoiled her candlelight supper.  genius.

this morning i woke to aforementioned peachy complexion and a still rainy day (see view from window).  naturally, a rainy day inspires creativity mixed with coziness.  whatever am i to do?  reflecting on the clothing optional party, i revisited my stash of actually very darling lingerie (but quite retired) and lounged around in various combinations like a madame.  such is a luxury afforded only (i'd assume) to those who live alone.  i felt positively vivienne westwood, which was nice because it put me back in touch with a time when i actually had a calculated sense of sensuality and detail.  now it's all making out in cabs, near nightclub bathrooms, or in elevators during work (i'm not complaining - that was a cool arrangement).  perhaps chicago will breathe new life into my frilly things.  i then got inspired to delve into stacks of magazines and cut and collage favorites and see how i can (in the spirit of economizing and paring down) replicate looks with my own closet.  pair this activity with swedish music (i'm loving "hitten" by those dancing days and the new radio dept. stuff) and some glowing cinnamon soy candles (i'm in love with them) and the day is perfect.

aw shucks

i called this afternoon to inquire after provolone and it seems that he's already been adopted.  drat!  but also great for him, because the less shelter pups in need of homes out there, the better.  of course, because i'm a bit superstitious and always on the lookout for signs (especially in an endeavor such as picking up and moving my life arbitrarily across country), i was a tad worried that this was a bad omen, but then i realized that i love all dogs and have the general ability to fall in love with most things (people, animals, the stinky coffee shop downstairs with stale pastries) if i talk myself into the idea.  so, it's all good in the hood.  i wonder if little provolone knows there are many blog entries about him!  he's so famous.

i've heard through the grapevine (though it hasn't been confirmed because the posting was just taken down yesterday), that i will get an interview for the assistant commissioner position.  if this is the case, i will do cartwheels.  how fun!  however, without sounding all boo hoo about stuff, i've redefined my version of what "success" in this endeavor will look like.  i used to think that if i went to chicago for a week and came back without a job, i'd be a real loser.  like i'd be embarrassed to admit to all of you fine people that after all the effort, pimping, applications, networking, phone calls, etc i've got nothing.  but, as a true believer in things unfolding as they ought to, i've redefined the notion of success to be more about taking this trip as the opportunity to scout out what feels right intuitively.  to have fun with wonderful new people that i've met and will reunite with.  the laugh a lot and challenge myself via interviews and feeling the rush of uncertainty.  if i come back to boston with no concrete job offer, sure, i'll need to reevaluate some decisions moving forward, but life goes on.  many people would remain complacent where they are, never deigning to wonder about or actualize a new life somewhere else.  have the guts to do that and breathe life into such a thing, with no traditional motivators (significant other, work made me move, etc) in place, i feel already very successful that i'm actually doing what life is meant for (not the whole meaning, but some of it) - to answer curiosity with action, to never stop dreaming about the possibilities.  to have adventures, even if they don't always pan out.  i know i won't stay in boston forever or even much longer, but how that transition comes to be, i can only do so much to persuade and steer.  with a piss poor economy and other factors beyond my control, all i can do is my best.

so, folks, after weeks of obsessing, i'm going to slow it down and let things unfold a bit.  sure, it'd be a mad, wonderful rush if things came to fruition the way i've been hoping, but it'd also be great to have things settle themselves in an unexpected, but satisfying way.  so, i'm throwing my cares to the wind (probably for just a day or two) and letting life take its course.  my purpose on the chicago visit will be to ascertain how the city feels to me and if i can see myself making an enjoyable life there.  my suspicion is that i overwhelmingly can, but overall, i'm going to enjoy and savor this exploration.  and perhaps still get a shelter dog.  

when you say it's going to happen now, when exactly do you mean?

hello, little sparrows! a brief update on the ratties - last i checked, the dead one is still stuck to the trap in the bowels of the basement (yuck) and the other one is nowhere to be found. i'm sure there will be a stench emanating from the walls sometime soon. blech.

this weekend actually saw me out of the house for a change, which is nice. friday night was spent in dutiful practice of frenzied job hunting. the chicago dept. of children and youth services (which is like a hybrid of child welfare, early education and care, and youth workforce development, ie. the most perfect fit of all time for me) recently posted an assistant commissioner position. i am working my connections to try to get an interview for that puppy. cross your legs (please, ladies) and whatever else that this works out. i have some interviews here and there, but i am beginning to get a bit nervous. my hope is that stuff will ramp up and start pouring in soon.

i tried to take my mind off the job hunt on saturday, when i made a leisurely breakfast (i'm loving the morningstar farms veggie sausage), tidied up a bit, and set out to the south end to visit the open studios. the stroll was amazing. i forgot how wonderful it is to be in a neighborhood not littered with students, piles of vomit, and empty red bull and lay's chips vessels just lying around. everywhere. instead, the taint of allston/brighton was replaced by pristine brownstones, pleasantly wild gardens, friendly shelter dogs, and kind and artsy folk. i had the loveliest random conversations with people in shops and the open market proved to be a treasure trove. not only did it feature over 60 artisans' wares (painted pottery, jewelry, handmade soaps, handbags), but there were two local farms selling a gorgeous array of the season's bounty. i scored a ring and matching earrings from a gal who went to risd (we bonded because apparently, we went to the same parties in college), an organic body oil (patchouli and orange = not the least bit hippieish, believe it or not), sigh-inducing produce (kale so deep green and thick, that i wanted to cry; heirloom tomatoes; white peaches; fingerling potatoes), and a baguette and farm made pesto, which i ate all of as i browsed the kiosks. the weather was cool and breezy and i felt ever so at peace with my scarf and my spoils. it was a wonderful day.

followed up by an evening of pub crawling in south boston, which is kind of like spending the day listening to classical music and then spending all night listening to NKOTB. the pub crawl was fun and we met many irish people with bad tempers, but big hearts. observe above.

on another note, when did east cambridge become the retirement community for men that i've dated? i had a lovely brunch at eric's yesterday (he called it modest, i called it fantastic) of chicken sausage, herbed greens, cantaloupe, and hi, the best grits i've ever had. oh, and lots of cafe bustelo, which truly is the only kind of coffee worth drinking. once i rolled up to his place, i saw a little squatty scrappy jack russel that looked familiar. "it's jackpot!" yes, it was jackpot, the dog that belongs to brian's gambling addict next door neighbor. brian and eric, incidentally, like 4 houses down from one another. and that's not the only coincidence - without going into detail, if you've ever loved me, i've loved you, or we've feigned such feelings in the drunken darkness, the probability that you live in east cambridge now is like 72%. if you expand that zone to cambridge, it's almost 90%. so wowza. thanks for the memories, cambridge boys. it's like that huge nashville retirement community for aging country stars, except you have the awesome distinction of saying you hit it with me. hooray.

now i am headed to get my run on and fantasize about coming home to a slobbery friend named provolone. mike had the fantastic idea to visit ole prov when i'm in chicago in a few weeks, so if anyone wants to join up to ascertain his character (provolone's, not mike's), please feel free. i mean, if i'm not going to leave chicago with a job, at least i'll leave it with another mouth to feed.

update on the little ratties

haley coined the term of "little ratties" and now i can't get enough.  and also reminded me of a time way back when, when we worked with dan black (who we all, despite our various attachments, had a wee crush on) at the state house and because he kept his desk so rife with food crumbs and half-eaten bowls of oatmeal, mice were flocking there.  he opted to catch it with a snap trap, much to my, abbey, and haley's protest.  we even offered to buy a catch-and-release trap for him, but dan black seemed more hell bent on getting us worked up by harming the mice, than actually just catching the mice and being done with it.  when the gauntlet came down on the first mouse, our crushes instantly went away and we, as haley so aptly put it, "realized that he was a douchebag."  which is a bit of a shame, because he was a whole lot of fun.

i arrived home this evening and, of course, because i am a glutton for punishment, went and checked out the basement to see if the landlord had removed the bodies of my deceased buddies.  grossness.  the trap is still there, but wait, only one rat is on it.  weirdness.  a closer inspection shows the other rat's leg to be partially gnawed off (i have heard that glue traps make them do this, which hey, if i was in the same situation and freeing myself from my leg was the kicker between life or death, i'd probably start gnawing away, too), with no sign of the missing leg parts anywhere and  no sign of the other ratty anywhere.  this is a gruesome business, people.  so nasty it is, that i have packed a very vegetarian lunch and do not plan on buying meat for some time.  i mean, this is pretty much what goes on in slaughterhouses, we, the fortunate ones, just don't have to see it.  wherever you are, little rat, i hope you're okay.  then again, brian sent me a wonderful cheer up email (thank you!) citing how the life span of an undomesticated rat is about 1 year (probably because the glue traps, snap traps, and poison eating seriously fuck with the median life span) and they chew on people's (babies, he said specifically) faces and stuff.  so, that made me feel a little less bad and now seeing the wild cannibalism (for survival - i'm giving freed ratty the benefit of the doubt) of the basement situation now, i can see they are truly out for themselves, these rats.  moreover, i'm wondering if freed rat is limping around with his bro's leg/foot still stuck to him (this is the only reason i can imagine he'd gnaw it off)?  imagine that in real life, guys (or don't, if you're feeling particularly chipper today...).  like, i love my friends and stuff, but i don't know if i could bear walking around with abbey's severed arm stuck to my side.  actually, the latter half of that sentence sounded like something that could be a title of a morrissey song.

it's autumn and chilly and wonderful outside.  it's so lovely, i can walk around sans ipod accompaniment and simply delight in the deliciousness of the weather.  and of course, i'm still madly in love with provolone the dog.  i want to call and inquire about him, but since my move is still quite awhile away, i don't want to get the shelter's (or his, really) hopes up.  if it is meant to be, it will be.  but that picture still cracks me up.  i want that face (though not exclusively that face, just so we're clear.  i love animals, but not in that creepy tote-bag-with-a-face-of-my-dog-on-it-to-hold-my-reader's-digests way) waking me up every morning to go running.

speaking of running, i need to start doing it again.  working next to flour bakery has enabled a ritual of getting something delicious with veronica almost daily.  today was apple snacking cake, which is a heavenly combination of locally-grown apples, lots of cinnamon, dark chocolate chips, cakeyness, and powdered sugar.  oh, and most likely lots of butter, which gives it its golden richness.  the other day, it was a southern peach corn cake (cake cake cake).  all are delicious and hard to resist.  but without running, this ritual is making me feel a bit rolypoly, so i plan on getting it crack-a-lackin' again this weekend.  veronica and i are in talks to go apple picking, which i've never done before, but am ridiculously excited about.  this means that i will likely be making lots and lots of homemade apple pies and cobbles.  i am also thinking of taking a stab at making and canning my own apple butter and giving jars as little stocking stuffers for the holidays.  canning is serious business, though, and i feel like i will need assistance.  perhaps i will enlist some of my epicure pals for a canning party come october/november.  go about canning the wrong way and all your jars can be contaminated with weird, sickness-inducing buggies (bacteria), and that is really no way to make/keep friends - over the holidays especially.

i am excited for the weekend.  this week has been utterly grueling at work, what with the submission of spending plans looming and my pseudo-supervisor (not the cool one i've mentioned before, but rather the aforementioned "going postal" one) having full-scale weeping sessions at the drop of a hat.  it's not the weeping that weirds me out (i usually console her), it's the odd, desolate, psychopathic demeanor she has afterwards (she often speaks in riddles, keeps to herself, and sighs A LOT).  Basically, she's super mentally and emotionally unstable and it shows.  pair that with managing ~$1B dollars at the granular level and you've got a catastrophe on your hands.  so, when she doesn't do her work, i cannot do mine, and this week has been an example of me doing both of our work, because she's consistently losing her shit over something small and throws in the towel.  i'm not trying to bash her - i actually feel kinda sad that this is SOP for her.  but, hey, it's a job.  compose yourself from 9-5 and feel free to act bat shit crazy the rest of the day/night.  so, i'll be glad to sleep in and actually experience the sun.  it also looks like there are some cool pub crawls going on in my friend sphere, so i might also get reacquainted with the world of booze and having fun.  wild concepts, but i think i can handle it.

and they call it puppy lo-o-o-ove

feast your eyes on this little sweetie. not only does it crack me up that these shelter dogs are posing in a professional portraiture session, but this one in particular named 'provolone' is a real heart stealer. if he's around come christmas when i'm settling into chicago, consider him named banjo.

(overflowing with love for this crazy doggie)

ashie

(i love how human he looks in this pic, like he's going to use it for his book cover or curriculum vitae at mit - he's a genius!)

i'm a horrible person; this is all my fault.

ladies and gentlemen, it's 11:30pm here in boston and after watching a very touching hallmark hall of fame movie and eating delicious homemade cupboard meal, after taking a nice hot bath and reading in bed for a bit, i finally gave in to wondering what the constant whistling sound i'd been hearing all night was (i thought it was the wind - or my worthless neighbors smoking up with a squeaky special-type hookah).  a peek out my door showed the sound to be coming from the bowels of the basement and getting louder and louder, much more shriek-like than a whistle.  i put on my shoes (close-toed, thank you) and tip toed into the basement, which since i called the landlord re: the rat sighting, is now disgustingly lined with horribly inhumane glue traps.  my heart racing, i am getting nervous as i get nearer to the sound, the noises getting louder as i approach.  i'm totally scared.  from the sounds of it, i thought i was going to (happily) come upon a nest of baby sparrows in the rafters of the building (just chirpin' away, how ya doing?) or perhaps (god forbid) a squirrel or cat stuck to the traps.  nope.  i get closer, i see movement, i'm starting to feel sad - the noises obviously indicate panic and struggle.  i turn the corner and see not one, but two rats, huddle close together, both stuck to (and trying to struggle free from) the same barbaric glue trap.  i didn't even know that rats could make these hysterical hiss/chirp/tweet noises.  and seeing them there on the trap, likely terrified, breathing so fast, i can see their respiration from a yard away.  i am frozen by a tremendous wallop of guilt.  like guilt and sadness has got me all wrapped up like a party frock.  and now these poor little guys are so loud in their suffering that i can hear them through my walls.

oh god.  oh god.  oh god.  i love animals.  truly.  and while i agree that rats are vicious and understand that they're vermin, i feel so bad for these two that i am a teary mess, feeling inhumane and very helpless as to what i can do to ease their pain.  seeing anything suffer is awful.  and at almost midnight, what am i to do?  i thought of trying to oil them free from the traps, but i am too scared to do that, for fear they'd kill me, and think that any attempts would likely be ineffective or cause them greater harm/pain.  i feel like a farmer whose horse has just been made lame, grasping at any ideas that might end the animal's suffering.  i truly feel horrible.  little rats probably just snuck in when the doors were left wide open by stupid dumbass tenant and thought it would be a cool adventure loaded with pizza crumbs (my neighbors) and fun systems of pipes to race through.  they're obviously the same two that i saw a few days back, thus i think that they're obviously buddies.  this humanization is killing me.  truly.  i may as well imagine them in little ball caps and sneakers, running after an ice cream truck or making gourmet meals in paris.  ladies and gentlemen, while i did not lay the traps myself or even request them (i did specifically say to the landlord that i thought they were horrific), i am responsible for the protracted agony and (i'm assuming) death of two small, innocent animals.  rip ratatouille and rizzo.

i'm stressed at work, so i am procrastinating by posting stuff that makes me grin

money well spent - my new reading, this shit is crazy shirt.

posted by a friend of a friend from found magazine. found on a bulletin board of a homeless shelter. amazing.

if only my darling new phone was capable of this

my dad's would be "reminding you of every possible way you could fail related to this move"

i must confess, my destiny's manifest

i'm wearing my new old navy shoes and though they are darling, they hold the petulant curse of cheap shoes - they hurt and rub and ouch. they added a dash of polish to my morning commute and the fates smiled on me, because seated directly across from me was a dashing character who looked a lot like the lead singer from better than ezra. hauntingly so. now, given this is boston and no one talks to one another, but rather drowns out the world with their ipods, i didn't speak with this gentleman. instead, i quietly fantasized about him crooning 'porcelain' to me. le sigh. i did showcase my shoes as much as possible, though. perhaps he too has an affinity for t-straps with "shit on the toe." and the ksg consulting fair is open to only harvard grad students. and it's from 10:30 - 3pm. and look at me, i'm here blogging. i determined that sneaking in looks a bit desperate. i might phone a friend in a bit to see if my instincts are correct. plus, i'll have to produce some form of harvard id, which i do not have. and then shit could get crazy. oop, just checked in with haley - she thinks it's a nutty thing to do, so i will not go. plus i'm looking a little too breasty today to be taken seriously in a sea of grey suited boring people with sensible haircuts, shoes, and a passion for writing consulting plans. perhaps i should just print my resumes on hot pink paper, scent them, and complete the elle woods scenario. you'd think that clawing my way up from a being nose-pierced, ani difranco loving deejay at the emerson radio station to the ivy leagues would make job hunting, like, easier.

instead, i'd like to blog about my recent playlist, because that's good times. i had a productive, sniffly day yesterday and have my playlist to thank for motivating me to get my ass out of bed at 7am, walk in the rain across the dot bridge, run various errands, and bang out a fucking sensational efficiencies proposal that, yes, kids, yields $10M in real, we can do it savings. anyone who doesn't want to hire me in chicago needs to get their heads checked (obviously a day of good hard work is making me a bit big headed) because when i put pedal to the metal, watch out! what? yeah, radness. cough cough cough. oh, and i'm thinking of getting my hair dyed red before chitown. thoughts? hooray for autumn. and here's the playlist:

maple leaves - jens lekman

ready or not - fugees (i forgot how fucking awesome this song is)

in the blood - better than ezra (in homage to my fellow t-rider)

wine up - kat deluna (this song gets me moving, pretty much no matter where i am)

it's not over - antennas

lloyd, i'm ready to be heartbroken - camera obscura

alison - douglas heart

suedehead - morrissey (a year-round favorite)

anything by the gin blossoms and toad the wet sprocket because i am going through a mid-90's phase

love will tear us apart - joy division

thieves like us - new order

please, please, please let me get what i want - the smiths

true - spandau ballet (hi, did anyone see the episode of 'ugly betty' where she chaperones a middle school dance and another cute dude chaperone requests this song for her and they slow dance? swoon.)

THE LUST REPORT - for fall, i've been scoping some unconventional additions to my wardrobe. scoping is the extent of it really - too bad this move is making me broke. enjoy:

this is my soon-to-be-arriving phone that has indentured me to at&t wireless for another 2 years. it's soooooo cuuute, though. how is wish the radio dept. would tour so i could get this rad shirt. gold tom's - fun with jeans? yes/no? tres expensive merino scarf with owls. xoxox.

"if i had the energy, i'd tell you to go fuck yourself"

yes, folks, this is a direct quote.  and yes, it's 1:something am on a saturday night and i'm hopped up on coffee and blogging.  oh, the folly!  some of you have already heard the sordid tale from which this quote emerged.  i'll set the scene: dreary friday evening, 6pm ish.  ashlee, vessel of phlegm, has just braved a grueling day of work loaded with memos, pivot tables, and an unstable coworker having a brush with going postal on our supervisor.  she is tired.  but she has a large bag of designer clothes to consign in the name of funding her impending move.  she hauls ass in the rain to second time around, an established consigner of fine goods, this particular storefront being in the ever-snooty beacon hill.  

i pass through the doors and see all of the wonderful racks of clothes.  knowing full well that they rob you blind in this place, i still was eager to unload my wares and eventually get a check in the mail for a few hundred buckaroos.  i see the teenage fashion victim salesperson, clad head to toe in what looked to be marc jacobs and costume national (covet.).  she looks snarky, but then again, this is beacon hill and i look like a drenched carpet bagger.  now, as some of us know, i lost quite a bit of weight about a year ago (thank you, stay-at-home-moms and aged jewish women of weight watchers).  so, naturally many of my clothes no longer fit.  it wasn't like i was huge before; i'm just smaller now.  anyways, back to the show.  so, the salesteenager is a mean whore to me from the beginning, taking my bag from me and sorting through my wares.  when i tried to explain about a pair of shoes, she said, "you can look around while i look through these" to brush me off.  she was a real sweetheart.  she goes about her bizness, putting her icky petty bourgoise hands all over my stuff, contorting her face at certain items as if i have no fashion sense.  i wanted to drop kick her, but had my eye on the prize of consigning as many items as possible and boarding the train for the long commute home, the glow of future money making in my cheeks.  she gets to a david meister gown that i wore to a charity function a year or so ago.  it's midnight blue, old hollywood style, and fucking gorgeous.  not to mention it was expensive and purchased at neiman marcus.  oh, and it's a size 12.  she holds it up and says, "we don't accept plus sizes here."  i nearly pissed myself.  "that's not a plus size; it's a 12."  now, even though i no longer wear a size 12, i am taking offense and feeling bad for any other patrons in the store who are overhearing this willowy bitch being, well, a bitch.  she glares at me and says, "let me put it this way - we don't have many people who come in here looking for size 12," as if there are no normally-sized persons in beacon hill (yeah fucking right).  i realize this is a losing battle and the dayquil is making me loopy and uncensored (which actually felt kind of cool, like being an out-of-control hobo for halloween).  i gather up all of my goods, shove them back into my bag, whilst she's saying "what are you doing?"  i head for the door, but just before i reach the door, i turn to her, ever so dramatically and say, "you know, i have the flu.  but if i had the energy, i'd tell you to go fuck yourself."  i realize, of course, that i essentially did.  but that's what makes what i said so cool and whogivesashit.  what i really meant to say was, "if i had the energy, i'd snap you over my knee," but i only thought of that as i was boarding the train.  how do people get away with being so rat nasty to customers - or to people in general?  thank god i'm moving to chicago.  while it might not be perfect, i have a sneaking suspicion that the midwest is not as chock full o' these ridiculous, entitled little vineyard vines, baby pink red sox hat wearing groupies who went to wellesley academy and think that the cape is the only beach in the world.

i'm hopped up on caffeine.  damn you, job hunt stress!  i tell ya, i had a weekend of nervousness, but this evening somewhat redeemed me.  tomorrow, i plan to stroll into work, bang out a wicked presentation (not before analyzing a spreadsheet of 400+ pages.  nice.), send out 5 applications to big consulting firms, and run 3 miles, all before 5pm.  that could be the super strong coffee that i had at 10pm talking, but i know that i won't feel good about my october trip if i haven't given it my all.  speaking of my all, i could be a borderline stalker.  this organization that i am madly in love with, that is tres exclusive (i've talked to a few folks there and they seem interested in meeting, but oddly aloof), i found out is going to be at the kennedy school of government consulting fair on monday.  i saw this on the org's website and thought, "a ha! fate!" - but subsequent research shows the career fair to be listed on the ksg website, but the details to be not disclosed (ie. it's only for ksg students).  hmph.  so, i'm thinking about finding out where it is, showing up (sneaking in, if i have to), and introducing myself to the president and founder of the org (who i've had an email exchange with).  would this be creepy?  i can't tell. because right now this sounds like an awesome idea, a real way to show interest and moxie.  your feedback is appreciated.  heck, i've crashed ksg events before.  my mind goes to the ksg event at the state house that dan black took me and kristen behnke to.  everyone was wearing suits and i was wearing jeans.  by the end of the night, i was hammered and some chick from cape verde recruited me to be a model for her clothing line (turned out her clothing line was comprised of tube tops and mini skirts which were modeled in bars.  it was a no-go).  it was a fun time listening to all those harvard folks pontificate about how they were going to revolutionize politics and save the world.  some of the conversations i had with folks were hysterical and bordered on the dialogue from the show 'frasier' where someone asks frasier where he went to school.  he snobbily says, "harvard" and the person talking with him says affectionately, "oh, i always wanted to go there."  frasier proceeds to yak about how exclusive harvard is and then asks his companion where he attended school.  his snobbery is silenced when the guy answers, "oxford."  i'm certainly no academic genius, but it's funny to see people catch themselves when they're being ivy league elitists.

on another note, i went to the mall today with veronica and her two babes, aged 3 and 8 months.  hi, they're amazing and lovely and beautiful - and AWESOME birth control, as if i needed it.  maileah, the 3 year old, is a dear heart/bipolar wild child as all toddlers are, but we had a nice day where i let her be my clothing advisor at old navy (she opened the dressing room door thrice while i was changing) and watched as she picked cranberries out of my salad, licked them, and threw them back on my plate (all the while, i'm like (channeling my inner social worker/day care center drone from back in the day), "ma'am, can you behave like a lady, please?" to which she'd respond with a nonchalant, "nope.").  she also has an obsession with juice.  veronica is smart in that she waters down juice to the point where it's no longer recognizable as juice, but the kid is a hummingbird.  some of the choicest phrases of the day from her were, "hey, what's that?" (said about and to everything); "max and ruby, ruby and max.  you've never watched ruby and max?  hey, you need to get with the program;" and "mama, i want juice.  i want zapatos!  i want piggies!!!" (said over and over again in the car).  it was amazing to see veronica do her thing - truly, i'm in awe.  she's an amazingly patient, nurturing, unphased mother.  we were both tired by the end of the excursion and took naps at our respective homes and i got those wicked shoes with the shit on the toe (as seen below).

i am now going to read the ikea catalogue in the hopes that it will lull me to sleep.  goodnight, fair readers and friends.  oh, and many thanks to those who called, emailed, sang, and sent well-wishes for a speedy recovery.  big smooches to you all.

sniffle

dear faithful bloggies: i have the flu.  it goes without saying that this is no fun.  perhaps it came about from being caught in a downpour twice and wearing my soggy suits to meetings the rest of the days.  i'm not sure.  either way, i'm sick.  like, it takes 3 minutes to walk to the kitchen to get a glass of juice sick.  on a positive note, thanks to (i think) five scalding hot baths with rosemary oil that i took last night to get rid of the insane body aches, i do feel a bit better this morning.  so far, i have successfully kept down a glass of grapefruit juice and a clif bar.  how did this happen?  wah wah wah!?  what sucks more is that, in the absence of my buddies (who have moved to colorado and indy, respectively) i now have no one who will drive a mile or so to bring me juice or sit with me in my hour of need.  so, after spending most of 4pm - 6pm time slot yesterday (i ralphed during the Tyra Banks Show, which I think is normal) dry heaving, i collected myself and moseyed over the whole foods where i slowly got some provisions.  hey, at least i no longer live in the 4th floor walk up surrounded by teenagers.  oop!  one of my ears is entirely plugged up, so the sound of my typing is strange.  i sound like i'm on heavy meds, but i'm not.

in fact, as with any malady, i devised my own holistic treatment plan.  it involves an intense amount of gaia herbs echinacea and other homeopathic liquigels; drinking (as heather, my dancer friend, once suggested) a quart of oj - with the juice of an entire lemon squeezed in it - in under an hour; teas of various kinds; and lots of scalding baths with rosemary oil.  later on, when my stomach has proven to me that it can go the distance, i might make a very sexy concoction of garlic, onion, lemon juice, hot pepper, and chicken broth - a nonna specialty that can do everything from put hair on your chest to cure a common cold.  what it will not do is get anyone lining up to make out with you.  to cap off this whine, i'll just say that, duh, i hate being sick.  but this is ever so inconvenient because i have loads of stuff to do for work and even more to do for chicagojobhunttime.  i'm starting to get nervous and feel as if i have an hourglass strapped to my back.  my mom sent me cell phone pics of a three-legged cat she's befriended in her neighborhood.  that lifted my spirits significantly.  

also, a piece of advice, when you've been in your apt. for almost 24 hours straight (i understand that for some this is normal) and you're not used to it (like me), are wearing the same stained stanford sweatshirt and slipper socks all day, and cannot breathe through both of your nostrils, DO NOT WATCH a danish drama that netflix just so happened to choose from your queue.  'after the wedding' was a good movie, but the grey sky and stoicism of the danes were not uplifting for my situation.  instead, i recommend 'milo and otis' or something equally feel-good.

so dear friends - call me, email me, sing 'uptown girl' to me or something.  tell me how this whole moving to chicago thing is an awesome idea despite the piss poor economy and hiring climate.  tell me how my trip there to interview will be so awesomely destined that i'll scarcely believe how great it turns out, because it will feel like a drew barrymore/jennifer garner/chick-flick movie where i have a fabulous wardrobe, along with an amazing, 'how'd i land that?' job.  sniffle.  i'm going to see what's on tv - i am astonished to find that among all the trash tv, the style network literally plays 'whose wedding is it anyway?' non-stop from 9 - 6pm.  gag.

cagefight: ashlee vs. sarah (palin)

CRUELLA DEALASKA VS. PEOPLE WHO DON'T MAKE COUCHES OUT OF BEARS AKA:

PALIN vs. PIPER

so, i had the good fortune of, in my quest to make the agenda for the federal improper authorizations project i head up more interesting, stumbling upon this picture of sarah palin. not only do her teased bangs indicate to me that she is too out-of-touch with trends to be a leader of any sort (she reminds me of the women who whole-heartedly work the lancome counter in pittsburgh - brown lip liner, too much perfume, an air of knowing everything there is to know about the glamour industry whilst lacking any knowledge of glamour), but she's a fucking balls out hunter. they say a picture is worth a thousand words and if you peruse my and my friend's facebook pages (sorry hays, brian, and others implicated), you can see why we would make better vps, simply because we don't surround ourselves with taxidermied shit. i am waiting for her to debate joe biden while swathed in a coat made of dalmatian. oh, and she'll be pimping out her poor baby the whole time. the biggest sadness is that it's working. my dad called me the other night to say, "you should like sarah palin - she wears glasses and she's for kids with downs syndrome and all that stuff you care about." like anyone is against supporting kids with disabilities. don't do it, america. don't scare me so. the only animals i have zero love for are the rats kicking around my basement. and even then, if they spoke to me or exhibited non-threatening behaviors, i would keep their secret and make them my friends. so long as i can envision them sporting bonnets and aprons, i'm golden.

upon checking my photos at home, boy howdy do i have pics of peeps getting cozy with animals.  none of which include embracing a king crab, but whatever.  and, much to my shock, i have almost none of haley or abbey with animals (unless you count skeevy state government or gypsy bar clientele), which is odd because they love animals more than people, as i do.  we will have to remedy this and go on a reunion tour of the zoo where we will embrace and coo at every creature imaginable.  

i dug deeper into the genesis of this picture.  it's her office - like the governor's office.  now, some of us recall romney's office and patrick's inner sanctum, which featured the much publicized new curtains and furnishings procured with tax payer's cash, but i never remember any animals.  or slide red platform sandals.  god, i look at her and the word that comes to mind is "yeasty."  there's a special place in hell for a woman like me, i know.

flip cup champion

my friend emily, master of child welfare and vegan baking and owner of gorgeous red hair and lovely shelter dog, rosie, recently moved into an MIT dorm with her hubs who's a PhD stud-ent there. it's a sweet gig - they act like RAs and they get an amazing suite to live in. to christen the place, they had a flip cup party, complete with vegan pizza, high-low beer, and a resonant speech on responsible drinking (no condoms on bananas, though - they're not those kind of RAs...). good times. unfortunately, despite my raging fake tan and the giddyness of vacation overcoming me (and shortness on clothes because they were all packed so my shorn peter, bjorn, and john will have to do), it was not my night at flip cup and i basically had flipping anxiety. the pics were just released, so feast your ojos on these bad boys. woo hoo. sarah is the gal in the spray painted hat - a soulmate of sorts. we're always trying to unload clothes on each other. in an email today, she said (and i quote) "do you have any need for leather pants? i have a black pair i want to get rid of." now, that, my friends, is a friend.

and i'm not talking the cartoon chef kind.

oh good lord.  i just went to get my laundry, which requires passing through the other part of the basement, and i saw not one, but two rats.  just hanging out.  the problem is, this part of the basement runs right up to my front door and all along the walls of my apt.  now i am freaked these s.o.b.s will try to get in.  terrified, actually.  i've got towels shoved under every door.  if they're gonna come and get me, they have a lot of heavy lifting to do.  the end.  i'm scared.  if i never post another blog again, you know what's happened...

i'm a high school lover and you're my favourite flavour

two blog posts in one day is sad.  i know.  but i was cleaning up my itunes (superwildweekendgirl) and found not one, not two, but four separate playlists entitled "make out."  seeing as how the past two years have been dedicated to making out with one person, most of the time sans accompaniment, i assume some are from my free-wheelin' days as a lass in grad school/young professional phases, respectively.  well, guess what?  they're freaking awesome (but that's just me).  not to mention consistent.  there are a few outliers that have been weeded out: boston's "amanda" because i was (and still kinda am) convinced it's the most romantic song ever; "into the night" by benny mardones because that song was played a lot on magic 102.1 or whatever fm when i was a kid and i had a broken radio in my room that only tuned to that station; "amazed" by lonestar - this song literally makes me gag as if i am back in texas now.  the only thing i can think is that i had some sort of tryst with a country boy.  but i digress.  the other interesting thing: these playlists are lengthy.  like, three hours lengthy.  which tells me that things were pretty cool a few years back.  who knows if they even got much use, but here are some highlights.  friends, feel free to borrow.  no, it's not gross.  

let's makeout!

black milk * massive attack

fade into you * mazzy star

late in the evening * cordero

tyler * the toadies (what?)

i wanna be adored* the stone roses

when the sun hits * slowdive

breathe me * sia

4-track love song * the rosebuds

consequence * the notwist

sweet jane * cowboy junkies

come undone * duran duran (there's always room for simon lebon in a makeout session)

all i need * radiohead

undenied * portishead

enjoy the silence * depeche mode (ready yourself, abbey)

here with me * dido (i went through a long, shameful dido phase awhile back)

under the milkyway tonight * the church

playground love * air

she sends kisses * wrens

one * u2

lovesong * the cure

wild horses * the sundays (truth be told, despite seeing the movie "fear" and in the infamous rollercoaster scene, i wanted to lose my virginity to this song back in the day)

change * deftones

walk on the ocean * toad the wet sprocket

how soon is now * the smiths

lie in the sound * trespassers william

roads * portishead

six yields * audrey

ridiculous thoughts * the cranberries (this still confounds me)

eyes without a face * billy idol

lover you should've come over * jeff buckley

the scientist * coldplay (there's a bit of shame to this one)

moonlight on snow * trembling blue stars

six underground * sneaker pimps (i had a very trip hop makeout playlist at one point, it seems)

it's too late * asobi seksu

a glow * okkervil river

it's personal * the radio dept.

pocketful of money * jens lekman

international dateline * ladytron

machine gun * slowdive (if you have only one cd you can choose, slowdive is a good choice)

tear drop * massive attack

Shake and Bake...and I helped

though the weather hasn't cooled to a blissful 50-60 range that i so love as an indication of autumn, i will use any excuse to make a delicious fall breakfast.  and, in keeping with my "eat only what's in your cupboards" economic policy this week, i made a delightful impromptu breakfast that i'd like to share.  pancakes are a great way to use up those last few nuts, granola, canned/dried fruits, or anything else that's too small to pack for lunch, but too big to throw away in good conscience.  so, without further ado, i present healthyish happy accident pancakes:

1 cup bisquick/buckwheat pancake mix

2/3 cup rice milk

handful sliced almonds

pinch of flaxseeds

1 egg

1/3 of pumpkin pie mix (from can)

dash of cinnamon

dash of almond extract

pinch of sea salt

cooking spray

if you have a food processor (or in my case, the awesomest of all time, le magic bullet) mix all the dry ingredients together (pending you like a pancake with a consistent texture.  if you prefer to crunch into almonds, etc, mixing everything together in a bowl is just dandy).  spray pan with cooking spray (something that can handle a high temp without burning - i tried it with safflower and that was a fucking disaster) and pour a palm-shaped dollop in the pan at a time.  cook to desired consistency (i like mine spongy) and plate.

the syrup:

some of you may have noticed, but maple syrup is freaking expensive.  $6 for a wee bottle these days.  so, to keep the mapley flava without using the entire thing, i propose a tasty supplement.  mix a tablespoon of marmalade with a tablespoon of maple syrup.  mix and pour over hot pancakes.  not only does it taste divine, but you save precious maple syrup, since it now seems to be the saffron of sweet condiments.  top with sliced almonds for extra crunch and chow down.

in my case, this happy accident paired nicely with extra strong coffee, an open window, and a real simple magazine.  i'd imagine it'd be freaking lush with fresh pineapple (though that is not in my cupboard and therefore not in the plan), to sop up the orange-y syrup, and some smokey sausage.  yum.

the clean up is not so fun, which is what i have to do now.  mwah!

things i (heart)

so, as i'm poised to leave boston soon for my please-lord-give-me-a-job-that-doesn't-involve-soliciting-passersby-in-cars-or-selling-door-to-door, i'm becoming acutely aware of the things i really love about boston ... and about life in general.  and with a big duh going to my family, friends, and all those fantastic shelter doggies and little children out there, elderly veterans, etc, all of whom i love forever, even when i'm in chicago, here are some of my favorite things:

my current boss.  who wouldn't like to work for the ever-sassy, recently divorced and hysterical about it, goddess of the azores ball-busting state government force that is alda rego.  she keeps me laughing, she keeps me on my toes, and best of all, she doesn't cry/want to discuss feelings too much/go into rages and will swap dirty stories and jokes with me.  tomorrow i have to tell her that i am leaving and also beg to work some weekends in lieu of taking unpaid time off for my job hunt trip.  i know she'll be cool about it, but giving up a great boss and great coworkers is always a sacrifice.  after a horrible 8 months with the crazy feminists at my last gig, this experience has truly been therapeutic and rad.  le sigh.

trader joe's.  yeah, yeah - they have 'em in chicago, too.  i know it.  but can i walk to it?  can i walk through lovely brookline neighborhoods with flowery gardens and streets lined with recycle bins and hybrids?  perhaps.  i certainly hope so and will have my cloth grocery sacks at the ready.  after all, whatever will i do without cinnamon crumpets?!?

my wee garden-level apartment.  the one that i know all the little quirks of.  like how the heater sounds like someone's attacking the pipes with a hammer in the winter.  every night - clang clang thump.  my claw-footed antique bathtub.  ahhh.  sure, i'll try to find a place with the same type of tub, but i shall miss my little buddy.  my kitchen - the biggest one i've ever had in an apartment - that actually afforded me space for cookbooks, spices, and (omg) pots, pans, and other accoutrements to spare.  swoon.  the little dog park across the street where people bring their pups (duh) and play with their children.  all the beautiful molding and floors.  being right around the corner from tasca (yum yum tapas) and zocalo (yum yum mole' and sangria).  obviously, it's my home, so it feels homey to me - but this little apartment has been good to me.  so, i will miss it.

chacarero.  oh, you wily one-of-a-kind, think about you in my sleep chilean sandwich dive.  green beans on a sandwich?  yes, please.  amazing.  and for $6 i am properly stuffed full of good ingredients.  and b.good!  sure, there are probably fantastic healthy "fast food" places in chicago, but where else can i flirt with anthony, the socially awkward owner who gives me discounts on fruit shakes?

running across the mass ave. bridge.  chicago has some amazing sights.  but nothing makes me feel more like rocky/in a music video/in some sort of german techno film like running up and down the mass ave bridge, the city skyline and charles river flanking me on each side.  it's friggin' awesome.

oak, fiddlehead, and sweet.  i discovered these only recently, but they've become a ritual.  i make my way over to oak to check out the locally made artist goodies, such as amazing necklaces and cute cards.  it's the go-to place for unique gifts and the prices are fit for a pauper. then i mosey over to fiddlehead, the green emporium of boston, where they stock a whole bunch of cute finds made of recycled/repurposed stuff.  afterward, i hop, skip, and jump to sweet for a carrot cake mini cupcake.  sure it's $2, but it's also sinfully gorgeous.  i fear that they will come out with a red velvet variety right as i leave.  yikes!  the commonwealth avenue mall plays a part in this scenario, as many memories of me and hays walking home, missing abbey, and consoling ourselves with chatter of the day and the cure/morrissey melodies, flood back whenever i walk it.  

the south end.  yeah, i know.  i don't spend much time there, but if i were rich or a happily paired off gay male with poodles and an adopted asian baby, i would.  i mean, the franklin cafe?  hi.  deelish.  and the beehive?  cute, though the saturday night scene can keep you guessing whether the guy chatting you up is just whimsical and straight or keeping your company because your handbag is so goddamn fabulous.  and flour.  oh baby jesus, flour.  where i can get raspberry sodas and ham and cheese pockets.  cinnamon creme brioche and trifles (yogurt parfaits, haley! har).  yes, i know this post is becoming very foodie-centric, but i just made (from scratch!) tikka masala (with some chickpeas for good measure and economy) and it smells gorgeous (if i do say so myself) and is making me think of deliciousness.

the coolidge corner cinema.  i mean, i saw the movie about dr. bronner here.  obviously i love it.

and, of course, the peeps i've met here.  who have really made my life amazing in every way.

OKAY - enough of that soggy stuff.  i'm in serious savings mode because, after the bahamas accommodation debacle, which we will not devote this post to, i am in the hole and must start gathering ye funds for the impending move.  good thing i'm crafty.  i've posted my nary-used luxury items on CL and ebay, so the suckers can come a'runnin'.  i sold the tiffany necklace i won at the boston chamber of commerce luncheon back in january this afternoon to some chick for a cool $200.  wore the bauble twice and besides, i'm really not a fan of the tiffany.  i've also reinstituted "eat your cupboards bare" week/month, which always inspires ingenuity, if not a little depression.  i mean really, you can only eat couscous and black beans and other foodstuffs for so long before you crave something bright and luscious.  so, i bought some additions today and plan on making and freezing lunch/dinner for the next two weeks.  some people read this and say "so what? i live off of ramen."  well, good on you, pal.  that ain't me.  my mood is infinitely calmer and i'm more productive when i have healthy, fresh stuff in my fridge and can pack tasty lunches.  in fact, i will spring out of bed early and run my little heart out if i know there's a sourdough and veggie sausage sandwich and strong coffee waiting for me back home.  no groceries = no happy.

oh yeah, the important stuff.  interview tally for chicago so far = 6.  i'm working on amassing more.  in fact, i've been a freaking lying pest to mayor daley's office.  i think the receptionist is on to me because she keeps asking me "now, who referred you to speak with his chief of staff again?" and each time, i fish through my list of  "important people in chicago who i don't really know because i'm a bastard" and arbitrarily throw one out.  i figure i'll seal the meeting and then, when the chief of staff says, "now, how did you get referred to me?," i'll act puzzled and say, "i'm not exactly sure what you mean" like there was no need for a referral because she thought that i was such a grand candidate that i needed no introduction.  this could make for some interesting stories, but hey, i'm like curly sue.  minus the curls, but keeping with the scrappy.  i have no idea what that means, but caroline and i watched that movie in our guest house in the bahamas one night and were both in tears by the end (it's something about that belushi guy.  weird).  the islands do crazy things to those who are used to being mostly land locked.   we did meet a whole bevy of lads from the kellogg school of business.  it was as if the heavens opened up because hi, here we are in the, as i affectionately deemed it, "ass crack of the caribbean," paying $20 for rotting meat and cans of coca-cola, and off we go to a club one night and run into a whole crew (lads and ladies) of very fun, tres cool chicago-dwellers.  and, come on, i also swam with dolphins and got cozy with murray, the sea lion from the movie "andre."  smitten.  i am so in love with sea lions.  they're like huge swimming dogs.  they even have toenails (i know because i got to touch 'em.  don't be jealous).  that being said, i had a rad time in many respects, but am happy to be back.  not only do i have a new found appreciation for the USofA, but i also don't have to spend 10 minutes slathering sunblock on every exposed inch of flesh or fighting off ravenous mosquitoes.  i left the bahamas with 10 bites and yes, one of them is on my face.

obsessions of the week:

burt's bees orange facial cleanser

estelle and kanye's "american boy" club remix

lending books to friends

dr. bronner's rose soap

this old photo of my great grandmother (she took it herself when she was likely 30-something), topless and in tap pants, her bosoms strategically covered by a sassy ascot.  she looks so glam.  i have no idea what she took it for, but i am getting it framed asap.

navy blue patent leather strappy pumps with baubles (shit on the toe) from old navy

red lipstick

getting giddy for autumn

hooray and have a wonderful week, little bluebonnets!

bahama mama and grateful to be back home

after a tres interesting, semi-drama filled, and fantastic dolphin/sea lion makeout time, i am glad to be home.  i'm too tired to blog and really need to sleep because work has been nuts and it's balls out to find a chicago job, but here are some pics for your viewing (masturbatory - not) pleasure.  mwah!