Vogue

Conde Nast, with its seemingly limitless assets, does not cater. I can't say I'm surprised that a magazine that takes pride in pushing unattainable products, services and physiques on the general populous wouldn't. But when the Best Friend lets me tag along to one of her fancy media shindigs, we usually descend upon the trays of upscale hor'dourves like vultures and leave feeling quite satisfied. So when she told me about the Vogue party tonight and the invitation indicated that there would be hor'dourves, I was anticipating little Kobe beef sliders that melt in your mouth, delicate salty-sweet caviar blintzes, chicken skewers and some variety of dumpling served on Chinese soup spoons.

Instead, we walked in to find models. A lot of models. A lot of foreign models, doe-eyed models, pouty models, bored models, tall models and the realization sank in: there will not be any food at this party. So we gulped down our glasses of Moet, collected our gift bags and went to eat dumplings at Mandoo House in K-Town. Then we had a deep discussion about prosciutto di Parma and various other cured meats over a heaping tub of Pinkberry.

Moral of the story: If you want to lower your self-esteem, a Vogue party will do so in ten minutes or less.
Moral number two: Vogue parties are le wack. (pout)

-L

Constipated

I'm not constipated in the literal sense...although it is in the literal sense. I have this craving to write right now, I have freelance deadlines looming, thoughts swelling inside my brain, and I just can't find the words. There's too much to say. Or there's nothing to say. Or there's too much to say that I don't want to share. Or there's too much I want to share that I can't compartmentalize properly into neat readable folders and subfolders of paragraphs, sentences and words.

Maybe it's because I'm content. Maybe it's because I'm a little stressed out. Maybe it's because I'm content that I'm a little stressed out. Maybe I need to feel the pressure. Maybe there's just a little too much pressure on things I don't really feel like doing right now. Maybe I'm feeling a bit anxious about [thing I don't want to jinx].

The other day, I was standing on a street corner near Astor Place waiting for the light to change so I could cross, and I started daydreaming and completely zonked out. When I came to, the light had changed from green back to red and the people who were sharing the corner with me had shuffled past me and were halfway down the block. This made me feel silly, and strangely happy.

-L

Mondayisms

1) 2007 left me with a handful of extra pounds I can’t seem to shake no matter what and a newly acquired sweet tooth. I was never much for cakes and cookies, candies and sweets, but somewhere towards the beginning of last year, I developed an insatiable taste for the sugary, starchy, gooey and buttery. Good for baking, bad for the waist.

2) Tonight’s attempt at chicken pot pie turned out to be a success. My brothers and I polished off the entire nine-inch pie (which doesn’t seem too big, but when it’s filled with starchy vegetables, chicken and thick gravy, turns out to be very hearty) in one fell swoop. I take a lesson from everything I make lately, and I’ve learned that making pie crust is no fucking joke. It took longer to make the crust than it did to cook the entire pie.

3) I was tempted to make crepes for dessert, but I decided that would be inexcusable and opted to eat an orange instead.

4) That old saying that you can’t ever forget how to ride a bike is a lie. I took my new bike out for a spin and I was a wobbling mess. But better than my mother who couldn’t even move a foot before crumpling into a heap on the sidewalk.

5) Anthony Bourdain rocks. He cooks, he travels, he eats crazy shit, curses like a sailor, drinks like a fish, makes fun of everyone and is as blunt as a sledgehammer. I adore and despise him in every way imaginable.

6) I watched The Namesake last night and it served as a reminder of how familial bonds are at once virtually indestructible and dangerously fragile.

7) I wanted to hold off on watching Atonement until I read the book, but two hours of James McAvoy proved to be too much to resist. (Semi-spoiler alert) The concept of using writing to create an alternate reality that should have been really stuck with me, and I can see how it would have worked much better as a book than a film. I kind of regret watching the movie first, but whatever, James McAvoy is pretty.

-L

Another year, another...yollar

The holidays actually turned out to be pretty awesome. I got some cool gifts from the fam (bike, diamond necklace), B's ladyfriend (crepe pan for to nurture my new cooking obsession), and friends (nice sweaters, linzer cookie cutters, again, for to nurture my new obsession). I cooked an awesome Christmas dinner (way better than my Thanksgiving disaster), saw my grams, and had a pretty good time with good food, good people and my good dog.

New year's eve was the predictable disappointment that I expected and I woke up with one of the worst hangovers of my life and a generous helping of regret, but it's a new year, I've made some attainable resolutions (wake up/sleep earlier, stay organized, don't drink so much, take care of myself) and they've been going pretty well thus far.

I also had a sick, sick opportunity essentially handed to me by an old coworker, and despite two shots of NyQuil and the beginnings of a pretty bad fever, I still can't fall asleep because I'm anxious/nervous/happy/worried about getting started. Let's see how it goes.

Things are looking up. Stay tuned.

-L