Ode to Sunday morning breakfast

Flannel pajamas
Onions, garlic, sunny eggs
And You: That's Heaven

(Yeah, that really is a picture of my breakfast. Ain't life grand? IHOP schmihop, you know what I'm sayin'?)

Haiku Review, Restaurant: IHOP, Shrewsbury, MA

Daughters' fondest wish:
Six different pancake toppings!
Forty buck heartburn

Haiku Review, Book: "Natural Born Charmer" by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

Pro athlete meets girl
Provokes, annoys, turns her on
I do love chick lit.

Haiku Review, Restaurant: Blue Marlin, Leominster, MA

Chowder Overture
Crab-topped salmon aria
Operatic Meal!

There's a new restaurant in town: the fun, island-themed Blue Marlin in Leominster. Mr. Mind-Your-Own-Reality and I had a wonderful meal there Saturday night. Friendly staff, fun decor, casual feel, with "fine dining" cuisine. Welcome, welcome, to the sister restaurant of the Monument Grill! We'll be back!

Our Details:

Crusty rolls
Flavorful Manhattan seafood chowder
Melt-in-your-mouth salmon "crusted" with a fabulous mixture of boursin cheese, spinach, crabmeat and breadcrumbs, with sides of delicious glazed carrots and fragrant jasmine rice. Being on a virtual island as we were, we also had to try the coconut rice- yum!
Everything was wonderful (really wonderful), attractively presented, and served up by the attentive Ryan. (Next time I'm taking a picture of the meal so I can show you out there in blog-land. And next time I promise to try a mai-tai so we can really test out the island feel.)

Click here to see the menus for yourself. Bon appetit!

Peep Show

Happy Easter! (Thank you Mr. Moss!)

Welcome Big Mattress Fans!

Charles linked to my blog from his again. I know this because my normally puny hit statistics have quadrupled again, just like the last few times he did that. You all don't hang around for long, though, and I thought that might be because I'm not addressing your needs. So, because I value your visit (and because this time he linked to me by calling me a bitch), let me make my smarmy case for the occasional skipping over to Choolie's blog.

Now, I worked with Chuckkkk. I know Chuckkkk. Chuckkkk is a friend of mine. Senator, I'm no Chuckkkk. And I know that Chuckkkk's your Daddy. He says "click here" and you say "how high?" I'm not trying to compete with that. He's your familiar downy nest, and I'm but a stranger with candy. And sometimes not even good candy. Sometimes, it's that sticky Swedish fishy candy that sticks to your dental work, and I know some of you more seasoned Friends of Charles probably have some significant dental work. And some of you don't find me funny. And some of you don't find me interesting. And some of you are still wondering what a Swedish fish is.

But let me give you a hypothetical:

The phone rings at 3am. In your house. You answer it and inform the caller that no, there is no Lisa there. At 3:02, the phone rings again. "Brad" insists "that slut Lisa " must be there. You firmly say no, and hang up. At 3:04, it rings a third time and you spend until 3:24 counseling Brad that he must cut down on Jagermeister shots, go back to travel agent school, send his mother an Easter card, and never again drunk-dial the One Nighter with whom he suffered poor sexual performance after a vast misunderstanding in which she took him for a roadie backstage at Ozfest.

It's 3:25. You're not getting back to sleep in this lifetime. TV is all infomercials, vapid sitcoms and Jacqueline Smith movies. And you ate all the leftover Peking Ravioli when you got up to go pee an hour ago. Whose blog are you going to visit?

Choolie's blog:

• Accepts visits from smokers

• And Republicans

• And Republican Smokers

• Has no comments-per-post limit (except for spam and flaming)

• Loves an AOL chatroom feel

• Doesn't mind if you wear perfume/cologne

• And will never correct your spelling or grammar

Y'all come back now, ya hear?

NEW NEW NEW!

My updated stump speech (updated June 10, 2008):

• And there's no porn here (Okay, so I just lost half of you...)

You can go back to my main page by clicking here. Or if you must go back to Charles' page-- you know where the "back" button is.

Haiku Review, Movie: "Atonement"

Are you kidding me?
Real Atonement would be to
Give back my five bucks.

Grandma always said, "Why buy the cow..."

Poor Ashley Dupre. She got million-dollar offers to appear in men's magazines, but -doh- at least one offer rescinded. It seems they've already got all the footage they need:

According to a "Girls Gone Wild" press release, Dupre visited Miami in 2003 to celebrate her 18th birthday. After fighting with a friend and getting thrown out of her hotel, Dupre found a nearby "Girls Gone Wild" bus, the company said.

She signed legal papers and spent a full week on the bus, filming seven full-length tapes which included nudity and same-sex encounters, according to the company.

AP Story "Spitzer Call Girl Already Gone Wild."

I still think the story-behind-the-story is the GENIUS of internet marketing. Truly. Ashley's getting a little, um, over-exposed now, but let us not forget that the Guv of NY paid a thousand smackers an hour for "Kristen." D'ya think he'd pay that for some chick who did a girl-on-girl action video on a bus in Miami? Ummmmmm. Probably not. He paid a grand an hour for "Kristen"-- the world-traveling swimsuit model, temporarily stranded on an island of skyscrapers, needing someone to accompany her in "civilized pursuits..." fine dining... excellent wines. Oh, and very high heels. In his mind, she's a future Vogue Managing Editor. She's the next Gi Bunchabones. She's Summa Cum Laude at Vassar, modeling for book money while she finishes her thesis entitled, "Bald Men: Virility, Sensuality, Power." (At the very least, she speaks French, no?)

Mais non. Less Grace Kelly, more Amy Winehouse-- a wonderful, flawed mess like the rest of us. You can call it false advertising or brilliant marketing. Like George W, I like to call it "the Internets."




(Hmm.. maybe she DOES know French.)

Photo from Us magazine "Portrait of a Prostitute Slideshow."

Back in my day, we had no grotto at Philippe. We had casks of MSG behind the Jade Fountain. And we were grateful

I've been remiss in my blogging this week and didn't fill you in on an IMPORTANT story:

Brady and the Fembot caught on tape doing the nasty in a restaurant: Tommy Boy and Bunchabones were out in NYC at Chinese restaurant "Phillippe" (??!! Which is right next to Goldstein's Mexican Cantina?) and apparently they slipped off to the private wine cellar for some monkey love. And there's a camera in there, and well... The busboys have now seen ALL of Brady's moves.
This story perplexed me greatly. Don't they have access to expensively decorated apartments and glitzy hotels? They've gotta go to a restaurant to get it on? Then I realized: they're underwear models (yup, him too, he's taking it off for Calvin Klein), and everyone knows that underwear models CAN'T EAT. It's like that movie The Truth About Cats and Dogs, where Uma Thurman's character confesses that she likes to order in restaurants but she doesn't actually eat. They're like that. Imagine. What if they're like secret, repressed foodies, reading the menu, salivating, yearning for the Velvet Spring Rolls and Jade Dumplings...mmm. You know you want some. Here -- wait. Do what I'm doing. Open up another window and put Philippe's website music on in the background. (Click here.) Did you do it? All set? You're back? Are you comfy? Okay.. Mmmm... That Vegetarian Flat Noodle looks like it would be good. Okay. Maybe flat noodle isn't exciting. I'm just getting warmed up. Stay with me. Ooooooooooh. Mr. Cheng's Handmade Noodles in a Veal Bean Sauce. Mmmmm. That's what I'M talkin' about. Mmmm. I just love me some Bok Choi. Let's do it baby. Let's have some Drunken Sea Bass, I'll try your Crispy Duck, you try my Oyster Sauce, and we'll finish it up with a little Three Within. See what I'm sayin' baby? What I want isn't on the menu. Chef Chow's cream sauce may be famous, and... yum! It really is velvety! Wow. Did you try that?! Oh, you gotta, it's so good! No... wait. Ahem. Let me swallow, and wipe that off. Okay. Here we go: But it's not the cream sauce I want. Except maybe just one more bite. Okay. Now I'm done. Just. Do they have toothpicks? Okay. I'm sayin-- let me sway to the music here. Get into it. Really. Okay: I wanna have fun. You know, babe? I wanna... Wang Chung. Let's slip off to that wine grotto... for a little Kung Pao...Biatch.

Okay. I think I get it now.

Update

Happy Birthday Alicia
(See comment below)

Dude... Oh, dude... Like. Oh. No. DUUUUUUUUDE.

There are probably 50 more clever headlines -- feel free to suggest one-- but for now, all I can do is cringe at this story:

LONDON (Reuters) March 14 - It is the one moment every man wants to get right -- and which London floor-fitter Lefkos Hajji could hardly have got more wrong.

The luckless 28 year-old's dreams of giving his sweetheart, Leanne, 26, the ultimate proposal have literally vanished into thin air.

Hajji, of Hackney, east London, had concealed a $12,000 engagement ring inside a helium balloon. The idea was that she would pop the balloon as he popped the question.

But as he left the shop, a gust of wind pulled the balloon from his hand and he watched the ring -- and quite possibly the affections of his girlfriend -- sailing away over the rooftops.

"I couldn't believe it," he told The Sun newspaper.

"I just watched as it went further and further into the air.

"I felt like such a plonker. It cost a fortune and I knew my girlfriend would kill me."

Hajji spent two hours in his car trying to chase and find the balloon, without success.

"I thought I would give Leanne a pin so I could literally pop the question," he said.

"But I had to tell her the story -- she went absolutely mad. Now she is refusing to speak to me until I get her a new ring."

He is hoping the ring will still turn up.

"It would be amazing if someone found it," he added.

Wait.. I've got some. How about: "His Proposal Was Full of Hot Air?" No? Um: "The State of Their Relationship is Up in the Air?"

Maybe I'm having a mid-life crisis, too...

This is very tempting! Australian man Ian Usher, about to divorce, is selling his WHOLE life on Ebay: house, car, jet ski, job.. even friends. You can bid on it all June 22.

On the day it is all sold and settled I intend to walk out of my front door with my wallet in one pocket and my passport in the other, nothing else at all, and get on the train, with no idea where I am going or what the future holds for me.

Click here.

They say "Clamayto" but I'd say "Clamahto"

I love the Internet.

Jumpin' on the Spitz-vagon

Oh be quiet. You would, too, if you had a blog!



And there are suddenly many parodies of this song, but this is my current fave, because who can resist a lumpy guy with an accordion?

Er..

I'm Sick of Eliot! (but I had to see this Kristen)

First Class Amtrak fare round trip NYC to DC.......................................................$398.00
Suite at the Mayflower Hotel (priced on Marriott.com-- 1 King bed suite).......$569.00
Monkey love with with a 5'5", 34C-23-34 swimsuit model who appreciates "refinements"...$1500 per hour + your political career + your dignity (+ that of your family)


Is this the wrong time to talk about legalizing this activity? Wouldn't legalizing and regulating this clean it up and make it safer for everyone? I'm not saying you have to put it on billboards-- but wouldn't it empower the women involved at the very least and make it so that they are not at the mercy of cops and drug-dealing organized crime?

As a society we are pretty messed up in this area. Zee French are how you say, giggling into zeir croissants, aujourd'hui. Silly Americans weeeth your sweeemsuit tops on and your sex scandals. We fart in your general direction.

Hot dog! (????)

Bush endorsed McCain this week -- you all knew that. They had a private lunch at the White House, then they skipped hand-in-hand into the Rose Garden, and they gave a rambunctious, BFF press conference. Old news.

But what you may not know is what they had for lunch. Filet mignon? No. Pate de fois grois (with Freedom Fries)? Nope. Lobster thermidor. Uh-uh.

"Let me be frank."

Hot dogs! They ate hot dogs. (Don't believe me? Reuters story here.)

"He said he was having a hot dog, so I had a hot dog," McCain, referring to Bush, told reporters on his campaign plane during a flight to Florida.

They've got world class chefs at their disposal and they eat hot dogs. Was it some display of patriotism, eaten watching a spring training workout and followed up with apple pie? Are they just-too-too-busy to care what they eat? Or are they just-- gasp-- not foodies?!





Oh, wait. Is that the President's meal?

I get it.

It was a psycho-sexual man-test!







He got you there, Senator!

But he IS the Prez.







Stephen, what do you think?

"It is easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission." *

I'm going to blow up the Earth. It obstructs my view of Venus.

James Glavin owns property on Martha's Vineyard, on which used to stand 10 mature oak trees. Which he loved. But his neighbors, the Eckmans, didn't love the trees. Those trees blocked their view of the ocean. So they asked Glavin if they could cut down his trees. He said "no." Five years later, they got a tree contractor to cut them down anyway.


Outrageous? Yes! So a jury awarded Glavin 90 grand, which represents treble damages -- they figured it would cost 30 grand to replace the trees -- although, you can't really just replace 10 mature oaks.

During the course of litigation, the Eckmans came up with a strange defense, that they asked another neighbor (who didn't own the trees), and that neighbor gave permission. Honest mistake. We were confused! But that's strange, since they had already asked Glavin. Hmmmmm... So Glavin said his main goal of the suit was to get the neighbors to admit they did it on purpose. But they won't.

Whaddya think? I can imagine the frustration of the Eckmans. But holy smokes. Talk radio yesterday painted them in a veddy bad light indeed-- entitled interlopers from Sherborn who don't think the rules apply to them. It's easy to get on that bandwagon. After all, they're in the wrong. But then I started to imagine what it would be like to really want that view-- if only it weren't for those trees. Please? Pretty please? How about just 5 trees? Three? Pretty please with sugar and a cherry on top?

"Nope."

Okay, Mr. Glavin, sir, but while we're negotiating, would you consider moving your 220-cubic-foot "organic" compost heap to not be within 15 feet of our cocktail deck?

"Nope."

Um. Would you think about taking down, say, uh, 15 of your copious-but-darling lawn gnomes? Or 5 of your gazing globes? Or just 12, 50% of your glorious pink flamingos--for the love of heaven?

"Nope. Nope. Nope."

Okay, I've got no proof he's got gnomes or globes or flamingos or organic compost (although I harbor strong suspicions about the gnomes.) But look at him. You just know he's going to use that 90 grand to build a Turret of Spite. Or possibly a Windmill of Spite. A Windmill of Spite, that will cause the Highly Directed Breeze of Spite-- which will blow across the Organic Compost Heap of Spite right onto the Eckman's Ornate Tuscan Terrace.

Or maybe that's not what he would do.. maybe it's what I would do.

Boston Herald article here.

* "Easier to ask forgiveness" quote attribution: Grace Hopper, computer scientist (her wikipedia entry here, if you're as nerdy as I.)

David Sedaris delivers a pizza

Via Defamer.com

[Angels Singing] Aaaaaaaah!

Life is good. After two weeks of being down and out with the flu, I FEEL BETTER!

The sun is shining, the weather here in the northeast is going to be a balmy, early-springy, 47 degrees today. The snow's going to melt, everything's going to smell all wet and earthy, it's time to start the seeds for the garden indoors...

I... FEEL.... HAPPY!!!!

Yeah, Super Tuesday II tomorrow... blah blah. I'm too happy to care. But Jack cares. Here's his semi-creepy endorsement. We love you, Jack. But comb your hair.

The Flu Sucks

That's all I have to say about that.