Frosting Fiasco

Is there anyone who can eat a Georgetown Cupcake neatly?  Certainly not me.  Stacks of little miniature cupcakes are served at seemingly every fancy party I go to, and they always look cute and dainty.

But I invariably pick up the variety that has frosting injected inside (perhaps via this device?).  I take one bite, and frosting is simultaneously exploding and imploding and probably all over my chin.  Maybe my nose too?  Then I have to reach for the napkin while trying to hold onto the rapidly disintegrating crumbs of the cupcake, which seemed like a two-bite endeavor but now feels like more of a meal.  Do I keep eating this and continue making a huge mess?  Or do I throw it away?  But is that admitting defeat?  And has anyone noticed this sorry spectacle?

These are the things I worry about while all the other guests are refilling their drinks, ha.

Children's Magazines of the 1990s

"The category for my trivia quiz this week is Nickelodeon," Debie told me.  "Quick, tell me everything about our childhood."

After all those afternoons of staring at the TV many moons ago, everything just came rushing back. I rattled off: "Ren and Stimpy!  Rocko's Modern Life!  Stick Stickley!"

Remember Stick Stickley?  It was a popsicle stick puppet that told you what shows were coming up next.

"I love that we were entertained by a popsicle stick with googly eyes," Debie said.

It was a simpler time back then, pre-Ipad.  Kids nowdays wouldn't pay attention to Stick Stickley even if he was in 3-D.

"I think i had a subscription to Nickelodeon magazine, the most useless publication known to man. This is probably why i didn't end up at Harvard. Because I was reading Nickelodeon magazine instead of the encyclopedia," Debie said.

Debie definitely did have a subscription to Nickelodeon magazine because I remember reading it at her house when we were kids. They had a caption contest on the last page that I really wanted to win.

I myself was a Disney Adventures magazine subscriber. Do you remember that? I'm posting a very apt example of the magazine's cover, the September 1993 edition featuring Joey Lawrence with a cartoon monkey from Aladdin.  I think I remember this very issue.



These were my prized possessions.  After reading from cover to cover, I saved every issue.  My annoying little brother (sorry, Dan) was always trying to borrow them and then bending the pages and gasp - losing them.  I tried to create a library card system with the Disney Adventures to keep him in check.  It wasn't as successful as one might've hoped.

I also saved all my issues of Zoobooks and oddly enough, I was really into Reader's Digest.  I liked the jokes page and the "Life in These United States" section at first, but then I started reading every article, especially the amazing true survival stories. 

Is that a weird magazine for a kid to like?  Did you read any magazines when you were a kid?

Also, this makes me realize that I watched so much television as a child.  I read a lot too, but we're talking hours and hours of Nickelodeon, which I loved.  Maybe that time could've been better spent, but it's funny to think that now I don't even own a TV.  I didn't develop a crippling television habit as an adult, and it doesn't seem to have adversely affected my life.  Except for the whole Harvard thing, which Debie brought up.  But let's face it, Harvard was never in the cards for me.  Disney Adventures was, however.

Honey Pig

We went to Honey Pig in Annandale a few weeks ago, and though I had been there before, it was my first visit without Debie there to order in Korean for me.  I'd never even touched a menu on previous occasions.  We were left to own devices this time, as a bunch of white people, and I think it turned out to be fairly successful.  Except, armed with a tip from the ever helpful Debie, I tried to order bokumbap and things went off the rails.  The waitress looked very confused by my request and finally told me it was "menu impossible."

Something must've been lost in translation. We got some sort of rice dish in the end, and all was well.  Good friends, good conversation and sizzling meat. 

Ann Taylor Perfect Pointy Pumps

My Ann Taylor shopping trips continue - last Monday, I needed to find some grownup clothes and shoes.  Most of my shoes have vestigial buckles or pictures of cartoon dogs on them, so this is a huge step forward for me.

I needed something that was decidedly conservative, so Ann Taylor seemed like a good bet.  I know this is the store of choice for D.C. careerist types.  My roommate who works on the Hill used to wear Ann Taylor almost exclusively.  She even wore it when we out clubbing at a sketchy warehouse.  But I've avoided Ann Taylor thus far, mainly because I hate buying work clothes.  This shopping trip impressed me, though.  It seemed very on trend, lots of neon everywhere, but in a restrained boss lady way.

I ended up getting these shoes - what do you think?  The saleswoman who helped me picked out an entire outfit for me, including the pumps.  I put them on and they were the most comfortable heels I've ever worn.  "I'll take them!" I said.  Then I looked at the price.  This sent me reeling, because I was expecting a tag similar to the $5 pants I just bought at Ann Taylor Loft.  I had no idea their shoes were this much.

Oh well.  Wish I had used a coupon.  They won't go out of style, so I feel better about it.  I wore them all day and stood in them for one hour straight and they didn't obliterate my feet so I'll give the Perfect Pointy Pumps a thumbs-up so far.  Anyone else wear Ann Taylor shoes?  Let me know if this was a good buy or not in the comments.

Wardrobe Malfunction

This month I set a little challenge for myself: I want to run one mile every day for 30 days.  I'm currently on Day 6, still on track. This might be a dubious goal, however.  It only takes 10 minutes to run a mile.  It takes me longer in general to change into my gym clothes.  10 minutes of exercise is not really a thing anyway.  I will proudly boast to the doctor the next time I get a physical, "Well, I always get in my daily 10 minutes of cardio." I need to bump this up to 2 miles to get anything out of it probably, but as it stands, I like my little goal because it's easily achievable.  So this morning before work, I finished my mile at the Clarendon gym and I looked in my bag to grab my work clothes after I took a shower.  I pulled out the shirt, the shoes and then a sickening realization washed over me.  The pants.  Dear God, where are the pants?  No pants!!! I stood frozen, contemplating my next move.  How could I forget this?  I saw only two options:

1. Ride the metro back home, get the pants and ride back to work for a round trip of 1.5 to 2 hours.  And call my boss and explain why I was late to work because I forgot my pants.  
2. Make do with the swishy gym pants.  Just go with it and pray no one notices until the shops open at 10 a.m. and you can buy another pair of pants.

Dear reader, what would you do when faced with such an impossible choice?  I texted Joe frantically and tried to call my mom for advice.  Joe wrote back,"O.M.G.  That is one of the reasons I always fail to work out before work.  I'm terrified I'd forget socks.  But pants is worse."

Much worse!

Daredevil that I am, I went with option 2, the nice sweater combined with gym pants and sneakers.  I decided the heels would make the whole thing even more ridiculous.  I darted off the elevator to my desk, pants swish swish swishing as I went.

No meetings on the Outlook calendar, phew.  I pushed my chair up as close to the desk as possible, but I thought maybe I should tell my immediate coworkers just to cut the awkwardness off at the pass.  "Peter, I don't have any pants!" I exclaimed.

Wait.  That came out all wrong.

Luckily, the stars aligned and I stayed in my chair till 9:55 a.m., then snuck out to Ann Taylor Loft and was the first person inside when they opened the doors.  I flagged down the salesperson for help.  Here was a guaranteed sale for her.

I tried on one pair of plain black pants from the sale rack and bought them, wearing them out of the store.  And here's where my luck turned around.  Guess how much they were?

$5!

Yes, really.  That fact redeemed my day entirely.  Good ol' Ann Taylor Loft!  Can I be featured in a commercial to tell my dramatic and uplifting tale?

Full Metal Jousting

There's a line in my new fav show Portlandia that goes something like, "He only watches shows about fishing or logging."  Doesn't this describe modern man, circa 2012?  I have little to no dating advice but this needs to be said: one amazing thing about being single is that you never have to watch "Ax Men." Of course I wouldn't seek this show out on my own, but I admit, I got sucked into the drama of Rygaard, Swilley, Paw Paw, Shelby Stanga and other seeming incompetents trying to fell large trees without killing or maiming themselves. This is the male version of Real Housewives.  That's my thesis.  And just like Real Housewives, there are a ton of these types of reality shows.  More actual destruction, instead of just the emotional destruction that's highlighted on Bravo. I tried to call Joe a few minutes ago and he seemed distracted.  "Are you busy?" I asked. "Can I call you back?  We're about to watch an intense jousting scene," he said. Of course, a reality show about medieval jousting.  Sure, call me when it's over.