Wednesday, July 30, 2008

The cat's out of the bag

So, what were Jason and I doing dressed up in formal wear in North London?

Why, going to the taping of the season finale of The F Word, of course.

The whole premise of the show was that they were inviting 50 vegetarians/pescetarians to try meat. Veal to be exact. Now, during our year-long trial of the veggie lifestyle, I broke down and had to incorporate some chicken after the first couple of months. But, considering a piece of veal had never crossed my lips, this was still a big deal for me. I have a thing about veal and lamb. Always have.

The whole thing was that they were making a big deal about "converting" 50 vegetarians. For those of you who don't know the premise of the show, each week they have a dining room of 50 guests and a brigade of amateur chefs cooking the food under Gordon's supervision. Sometimes the chefs are quasi-celebs. For example, ours were two of the girls from All Saints (a British girl group who had mild sucess in the US with the song "Never Ever" back in like 1998 or something) and their moms (I think it was moms. Minor details...). The brigade gets scored on how many diners out of 50 would be happy to pay for their meal.

Anyway, here are two pictures of our 15 minutes of fame. Or, to be more accurate, 15 seconds. Or, to be really accurate, about 3 seconds.

Sorry for the glare on your head, Jason.

Me with my first ever taste of veal. I was very tentative, as you can see. And, my! How fetching I look with a fork stuck in my mouth!

The verdict? Not so much impressed with the veal. Everything I had always heard about veal was that it was "so tender" and blah blah blah. Well, this veal was not what I would call tender. It was chewy and I no likey. I loved the marsala sauce and the veg medly though. And the dessert was heaven - roasted peaches with citrus creme fraiche and raspberry sauce on marzipan and topped with almonds.

What's the final status of our pescetarianism? We do eat meat now but much less of it - we pretty much always use meat substitutes when we cook at home. For the most part, if we eat meat in a restaurant, we try to make sure it's organic, free range and/or ethically sourced. In short, we eat meat but we consume responsibly.

The Croatia post will be up either tomorrow or Friday. Crossies heartsies.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Big pimpin'

Remember this post?  Still can't divulge any details but here's a big hint...  If you're in the UK, watch The F Word on Channel 4 tonight at 9:00.  

In the meantime, I'm working on the Croatia post.  But considering I'm still having trouble with my motivation, don't expect any spectacular results.  And, uh, guess what.  Life doesn't necessarily grind to a screeching halt just because one takes off on a week's holiday.  Nope.  Everything just keeps on chugging and upon return, one is expected to jump back in and catch up.  Huh.  Who knew?

Monday, July 28, 2008

Hey dudes...

Like, we're all, like, back from Croatia and stuff...  And I, like, can't seem to function in a, like, normal capacity or whatever.  I'm all, like, in sloooooow-mooootion or something.  Judging by my activity level, you'd think I spent a week, like, smokin' weed instead of being all, like, laid out in a beach chair.  I just can't seem to snap out of, like, total relaxation mode. Whatevs....  

I'll get around to blogging about the trip soon.  In the, like, meantime - here's a picture of the sunrise as seen from our balcony.  Like, enjoy...

Allright, allright.  Just for Suze, here's one of our hotel's private beach as seen from the cocktail bar upstairs.

I'm crying just looking at it right now.  Take me back.  For godsakes somebody please take me back there!

Saturday, July 19, 2008

See ya latah, suckers!

Croatia, here we come.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

The fashion mistress is in... again

Dear Women of London,

Good gawd ladies. Can't a gal get a break? You are constantly forcing me to verbally bitch-slap some sense into you. Not only do you need my advice on footwear and seasonally appropriate dressing, now I'm going to have to discuss the importance of regular pedicures and keeping your Netherlands off display in warm weather. Let's get started.

Far too many times I have been on the tube and had the misfortune of sitting near one of you sporting sandals or flip-flops of some variety with some of the mankiest looking feet I have ever seen. Truly revolting nasty cracked heels, funky yellow toenails, ashy flaking skin, etc. Ladies, this is no way to represent yourself. Drop by the salon for a pedicure once and a while. Or at the very least, put on some damn lotion and slap a coat of varnish on those vile looking nails. Some may protest "I don't have enough money to waste on pedicures!" Fine. Take yourself to Boots and buy a foot file, some hardcore foot balm, a pair of thin white socks and some polish. Blam! A cheap DIY pedicure that keeps on giving! It's that easy. It is not okay to neglect this area of hygiene.

Even more importantly, let's discuss the importance of undergarments. Recently, Jason and I were enjoying a nice lazy afternoon on Richmond Green. Jason decides to walk over to the pub for a spot of refreshment and when he returns to our blanket, he tells me that he passed by a couple of girls sitting on the grass, one of whom was sitting "Indian style" (I'm told this term is no longer politically correct but a] I'm not exactly known for my political correctness and b] I'm part Cherokee so you just try and tell me I can't use a term that is supposedly "demeaning" to my people). Indian style in a short skirt. Indian style in a short skirt with no knickers on. Thaaaat's right! No knickers! Biscuit on display. I blame those skanks Britney and Paris. Call me crazy. Call me old-fashioned. But when I was a young whipper-snapper, part of the getting dressed routine involved putting on underwear. Let's kick it old-school and bring back this crazy trend of undergarments! How retro.


Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Oh Mama Mia. Here I go again.

So.  Jason is in NC for work.  That leaves me to my own devices.  And since we are going to Croatia next week, I decided that what my devices needed this weekend was a day of swimsuit shopping.  This did not end well.

Is there some sort of conspiracy out there to make normal-looking girls like myself feel ten kinds of fat when we try on beachwear?  If not, then can you explain to me why, when I selected the very same size swimsuit bottom that I always wear in regular clothes and knickers, I felt like I needed to somehow deflate my ass and hips just to squeeze them halfway on?

Let me tell you, and I speak from experience here, there is nothing that will make you feel worse about yourself than seeing your pasty white rear-end squishing out of a too-small bikini bottom.

I think, for most women, this would be exactly the kick they needed to not even look at a carb for the next week.  I'm not most women.  

I marched myself straight to the next showing of Mama Mia and ordered up a nice big tub of popcorn and a bucket of Diet Coke.  I may have popcorned myself into yet another size up.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

No, you cannot haz baybee rite nao

I struggled for some time on whether or not to blog this process.  But after a chat with Jason (Since, you know, hey!  This is his life too!) and some personal reflection, I decided that I've never been one to, hmmmm, how should I put this....  hold back.  

Since I started this here blog, I've pretty much let it all hang out.  Good, bad, pretty, ugly, funny, not-so-funny, happy, sad - I've shared it with perfect strangers.  Why stop now?

So, here it is.  My first pregnancy test.  Negativo.  Sorry, you are not a winner this time.  Please pee on another stick soon!

funny pictures
(In an effort to keep my sense of humor about all this, I decided to use the LOL builder at to caption the photo of my pee stick in the spirit of the site.  If you're not familiar, check it out.  Yu'll laff.  I'z promiss.)

And you know what?  Even though I knew in my logical brain that it was so very unlikely that I was pregnant, I spent the entire walk to Boots and back convincing myself that "I might be though!  I mean, it's possible!" and dreaming up all these fantasies about how I would tell Jason and the family and my best friend.  (Who, by the way, sent me the most amazing and supportive email that made me cry when I related this little tale to her several weeks ago when I actually took this test.  See?  I told you I have thought about whether or not to go public with this for a while...)  Would I come up with some elaborate scheme involving a tiny Redsox or Carolina Hurricanes onesie only to get so excited that I just blurt it out when he walked through the door?  Or maybe I would wrap up the positive pregnancy test and give it to him?  

Turns out, I don't need to be worrying about any of that stuff just yet.  Let's just slow down and take this in order, shall we?

Thursday, July 10, 2008

One of these things is not like the other

I set about cleaning out my makeup case this week and I came across something most unusual.

A champagne cork.  A mini champagne cork.  After much thought, I deduced that this was a remnant of my birthday morning breakfast-in-bed.  

I don't know which is more troublesome....  the fact that I was drinking champagne before 8:00 AM while applying makeup or the fact that my birthday was in February and I'm only noticing the rogue vestige now, in JULY.

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Give 'em the old Mrazzle Dazzle

As my long-suffering husband said last night, I'm allowed one night per year to love Jason Mraz more than I love the original Jason. Hopefully, he'll allow me a few additional minutes today while I write up this post....

Me and Original Jason

The show was great - a lot of material off We Sing. We Dance. We Steal Things. which was great because it's such a fantastic album. Here's what I love about him... he (and Toca actually) were playing in the band during the opening act - Bushwalla - in the most riduculous disguise of stick on sideburns, mustache and eyebrows. What's funny is that, because I wasn't expecting him to be out there, I didn't actually realize it was him until he piped up with some background vocals. I immediately knew that voice. I didn't get a good photo because we were experimenting with the camera settings during the opener and didn't get it figured out until after.

For the encore, he came back out and opened with "Details in the Fabric" (which you may remember from this post). And lo and behold, who happened to show up but James f-ing Morrisson?!? It's not that often you get to see a duet performed by the original singers. I guess it's the benefit of going to the show in London, where James presumably resides...

Another thing I love about him - he so often plays barefoot. I don't know why but I love that...

So, I know this is blurry... but DAMN! Check out those strongs! Yoga does a body good.

Geo and me-o

My flair

He's coming back in September to play the Royal Albert Hall. And since I'm the supah-fan, I of course got my tickets before they even went on sale to the general public. I'll be there with my flair. Hope Original Jason allows me one more night of Mraz-lovin'.

Monday, July 07, 2008

I'm siiiiingin' in the rain...

Wait, no. I'm siiiiingin' in the sunshine... Actually, scratch that. I'm siiiingin' in the drizzle... Hmmm, not anymore. Now I'm siiiiiiingin' in the monsoon... Hold it. I'm siiiiingin' in the sunshine again...

And so on and so forth like this for the past two or three days.

Yesterday was exceptionally schizophrentic but at least we watched it all from the inside of a pub in Kew with some of our favorite drinking buddies, Suze and Phil - who were down from the north for a wedding this weekend. And even though it was like hanging out with Suze and Phil Lite (due to a late night on Saturday and a long drive ahead of them) there was still no shortage of funny stories and raucous laughter.

As we made our back back up Richmond Hill, we noticed that the river was exceptionally high and decided to walk down to see it. The pedestrian walkways were partially flooded...

I love these colorful boats!

The hige tide entrance was in use at The White Cross pub... The only time I've ever seen the water higher than this was one time when we had spent an inordinately long afternoon at The White Cross and when we went to leave, the water was up to the benches you see in this photo. We had to crawl over that stair railing and sort of swing over to a lamp post that's just out of this shot to the right. Super fun!

Should have worn wellies. All the better to stomp and splash in.

Tonight, we're off to see the other Jason in my life - Mraz. La la la la la la la life is wonderful.

Saturday, July 05, 2008

Better together

Wednesday afternoon, we kitted ourselves out in North Face rain jackets and set off towards Hyde Park amidst grey clouds and steady drizzle. We'd bought tickets last August for this concert - Jack Johnson with G. Love and Special Sauce, Ben Harper and Mason Jennings. Truth be told, I wasn't really looking forward to it simply because of the weather forecast: low-level clouds and drizzle with a 99% chance of the bottom falling the f**k out. I had visions of us sitting in the giant puddle that Hyde Park would become, huddled under umbrellas and shivering. Clearly, things took a turn for the better:

Ahhh, takes me back to the lawn concerts at Walnut Creek... During G. Love's set, out of nowhere the clouds began to break up, revealing slivers of blue and then the sun broke through and began to shine in earnest. It was a Christmas miracle! Except in July.

In between two songs Jack said that everybody looked so pretty with the sunlight behind our heads and during the last song he had thought about the Jimi Hendrix performance where he told the audience that he just wished he could reach out and make love to all of them.

You can hardly blame him for feeling so amorous, considering this was his view...

Towards the end of Jack's encore (one of the longest encores I've ever seen), he all the sudden says "I want to bring out a couple of friends to help me with this next song. Please welcome G. Love back to the stage with Jimmy Buffet."

I was all "WTF??? Is he serious? Where the hell are my glasses? I can't tell. Is that really Jimmy Buffet?? Did he just pull Jimmy Buffet out of his ass??" I can assure you that yes, indeed, Jack Johnson whipped out Jimmy Buffet like it was nothing. Like he just happens to travel with musical legends always at the ready. After that, I half expected him to say "And now give it up for Mick Jagger! And after that, how about I get Stevie Wonder up here!?!"

I have great video. But you'll never see it. Because Blogger is a total bitch.

Thursday, July 03, 2008

Riddle me this

How do you turn a $12.99 cotton sundress from Target into a $52.99 cotton sundress from Target?

Enlist a fairy godmother singing Bippity-Bobbity-Boo?  No.  
Start your own personal sweatshop of forest creatures and mice?  No.
Take it to a tailor in London for a tiny repair?  Yes.


Wednesday, July 02, 2008

As a Mac user

This makes me laugh:

fail owned pwnd pictures

Loves it!

Tuesday, July 01, 2008

The trouble with reading naughty books at the salon

(or books with naughty parts, as the case may be) is that when you're in the hairdresser's chair, you will turn the page and immediately be presented with a very naughty scene filled with the naughtiest of all the naughty words.  Repeatedly.