I had high hopes of posting something not about television, then gave up on that and wrote a dissertation on Studio 60, then deleted that because in the process of writing that I overdosed on snacks. (more…)

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Oh, geez. I love tv. (more…)

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Girl: Why doesn’t she just steal a car and drive it into the river?
Boy: Because you can’t get drugs that way.

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Dear Everyone Who Hates Marcel,

Did you like last night’s Top Chef? Because I didn’t.

Love,
Sally

P.S. Elia is prettier bald than with hair.
P.P.S. A chicken liver truffle? Kill me now.

Because Pete is such a wild man (climbing curtains, biting the dog, jumping out from behind doors at us), my mother likes to refer to him as being a word I consider the f word in our house: feral. I’m always on the lookout for proof that Pete has a truly refined nature in order to quash such talk. That’s why I was pleased to discover that Pete, who has two litter boxes, pees in one and poops in the other. Take that, feral!

I have found myself embroiled in yet another workplace drama. This time, it is way dumber than all the other ones, and people are mad at me and even though it is stupid it still sucks. I can’t really tell you about it, but there’s a lot of whispering and eye-rolling and stomping around going on around here.

Instead of monthly lists (found last year under the Vegetable category over to the right), which ended up giving me even more stress than my self-imposed posteverydayitis, this year I’m keeping a few running lists: 52B52WBNR, Cool, and Uncool. The names of the last two are subject to change. They have already changed from I’m Loving It/I’m Not Loving It and Hot/Not Hot. Suggestions for better good/bad name combinations are welcome. Yea/Nay? Bill Clinton/Roger Clinton? Civilized/Feral? Help. But if you help, make sure that the good thing is alphabetically before the bad thing. Because the links run alphabetically, and I don’t know how to make them not do that.

I’m going to sit in my office and eat cookies and hate everyone I work with now.

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Why you should read Don’t Get Too Comfortable: the Indignities of Coach Class, the Torments of Low Thread Counts, the Never-Ending Quest for Artisanal Olive Oil, and Other First World Problems by David Rakoff: because of passages like the one below.

All of the designers I have met up to this point have been very nice, although upon being introduced to Karl Lagerfeld, he looks me up and down and dismisses me with the not super-kind, “What can you write that hasn’t been written already?”

He’s absolutely right, I have no idea. I can but try. The only thing I can come up with at that moment is that Lagerfeld’s powdered white ponytail has dusted the shoulders of his suit with what looks like dandruff but isn’t. Also, not yet having undergone his alarming weight loss, and seated on a tiny velvet chair, with his large doughy rump dominating the miniature piece of furniture like a loose, flabby, ass-flavored muffin overrisen from its pan, he resembles a Daumier caricature of some corpulent, inhumane oligarch drawn sitting on a commode, stuffing his greedy throat with the corpses of dead children, while from his other end he shits out huge, malodorous piles of tainted money. How’s that for new and groundbreaking, Mr. L?

1. Marcel rapped. Kind of.
2. Ilan’s dickishness bit him in the ass. I hate people like him: he’s more interested in pissing Marcel off (which, by the way, doesn’t seem to be working) instead of in creating good food. And the part where he wanted Elia to throw the challenge? HE IS A BAD-FOAM MAKING FAUXHAWKED DICK.
3. Sam loves mayonnaise.
4. Truffle oil burger? Homemade chips? Yes, please.
5. The prospect of watermelons covered in gorgonzola and cream sauce sounds like something I would make up for a fake gourmet meal.
6. Elia sleeps naked.

A few months ago, whenever I’d see Jaxxie, she’d start telling me about this book she was reading, only what she said never made any sense: something about the Prince and Princess of Wales being dropped naked in New Jersey? And the adventures and insanity that followed? Rastafarians? Oscar Mayer Weinermobile? What? (more…)

I mentioned before that I dismantled my junior high/high school scrapbook over Christmas, but what I failed to mention was that I apparently saved everything. I have a napkin (complete with Chee-to dust) from that one time I spied on a boy who worked at Subway, and a straw from that one time I went to the movies with so-and-so, and obviously that is ridiculous. Goodbye, Chee-to dusted Subway napkin from 1989! Farethewell, straw that I remember nothing about! I will not miss you. (more…)

Topics: my movie star crock pot; MadLibs; the best cake OF ALL TIME, EVER. (more…)