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Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Dear Cookbook- An Open Letter

Dear Christmas Cookbook Gift,

Wow it was such a surprise when I opened you. I was so excited at first looking at the packaging thinking I was finally getting a signed copy of 'Where I Came From'. But then I disocvered you, an entire book, filled with Betty Crocker's best.

Now I don't know who this Betty woman is. But I do know one thing. She seems like a pretty selfish bitch to me. Telling me all about having to make "torts" and "cakes" and "boiling water." Making me feel like I am the kind of woman who should invest my time and energy into things like "baking" . Well Betty, let me tell you, the more you try and tell me how to bake, the more I realize I am going to figure out exactly which book store you came from so I can return your red colored ass and get something more useful, such as a book on how to kill myself with rubber bands.

The problem is Betty, your instructional guides require me to do things that I refuse to do on a normal day, things such as 'go to the grocery store'... 'make lists'... 'be prepared'....I consider showing up to my ex boyfriend's house fully sedated on percocets, 'being prepared'.

I tried to make your lemon bunt cake only once and I was halfway through writing down 'lemon' when I realized, what am I doing? I bake the way Anna Nicole solves math equations in Heaven....pretty much never. And I refuse to feel pressure just because a woman named 'Betty' tells me to go do so. I don't even like the name Betty. I knew a Betty once and she was the biggest cunt I'd ever met. So excuse me Betty if I don't feel like ripping open your magical paper pages and discovering just one more thing I have failed at learning in life. You know who used to cook? Dinosaurs. Dinosaur wives used to cook along with people in the BC era and women with names like 'Pearl'. So if you don't mind Betty, I am going to go order myself a nice plate of California rolls from Haru, right after I go give you to some poor homeless kid of the street who needs a cook book way more than I.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

My Saturday- A Picture Summary

So many of you wonder, NYCPonderings Chick, how wild IS your life? And the truth is...ever spent a weekend at home knitting with grandma? ...Well it's kinda like that....


This was taken moments before she started dancing on the craft table
I would like to give you a full recap of my Saturday night. First I arrived to a Christmas party wearing this:

Which, one might say, would have been my first accomplishment of the night.
I then looked across the room and spotted this:


Twelve diet coke and Bacardi's later ...and possibly some Niagara gang-bang drugs.. I apparently became involved in a bit of this:

I was convinced it looked like this:


But in reality it looked more like this:

I apparently then took the nice gentleman back to my place...and that's when things really got wild...first we started off using this :


Where we got so hot that we decided to cook a lot of this:

Moments later we were involved in a just as wild version of this:

We then shook hands and he went back to his apartment building..
..*cough* college dorm room *cough*

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Holiday Relationship Rules


So the holidays can be a very confusing time in a relationship. So many things going on, decisions as whether to meet the parents, not meet the parents, exchange gifts, not exchange gifts…normally I do the right thing and make sure to break up right before the holidays and then quickly resume the relationship after new years is over. Listen, I don’t want to buy you a gift, I don’t even want to kiss you during New Years. I want to spend my new years how most people spend it, drunk in a dirty bar bathroom, puking up yams on the hand towel lady named Rosetta, whom I keep referring to as ‘Ruby Red’.

If you are one of the unlucky people however to be involved in a relationship during this time of the year I think a few Holiday rules need to be laid out.

Rule #1- Thou shall never buy their significant other a ‘vacation’ Buying someone a vacation as a gift is the end of your relationship. It is like playing Russian Roulette with a bad ear infection, you will always lose. My friend Christine bought her boyfriend a trip to the Bahamas, they broke up three weeks later…my friend Adam bought his girlfriend a tip to Aruba and she sleep with his best friend the next night. Trust me, buying someone a vacation as a gift is like giving an 8 year old a loaded handgun, it’s only fun for the first minute or two and then eventually, someone gets hurt.

Rule #2- Thou shall never subject your significant other to your family unless you are married/engaged/under contract. Your family is never as normal as you think they are. In fact they are probably about as amusing as any Tim Allen movie ever created. My parents are the nicest people, but they are still a bunch of conservative republicans, so if you don’t enjoy scotch and a good game of ‘find grandma’s pearls in the oriental rugs’, then I would suggest you not stop by for a visit.

Rule #3- Thou shall never send mutual holiday cards with your significant other. Do you think it’s not bad enough I have to get mutual birthday cards from ‘Both of Us’, please don’t subject me to your holiday happiness as well. And please don’t include on the inside notes how the two of you went around picking apples, or Christmas trees, or making popcorn strands or some shit like that and then sat in your stockings near a fireplaces reading stories from the Bible to each other. Dear Lord Jesus, the card you sent with the sad puppy dog face in a holiday hat was bad enough, I almost vomited up all my red wine and percocets just seeing the damn cover. I don’t need to hear about how you ‘Both Wish Me Peace Love and Joy’…I wish both of you a nasty cause of the bubonic plague if you send me anymore of that shit.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Video Shmideo

Because I am lazy this week
And because this is genius

I'm just a regular everyday normal girl and my parents are nice people motherf*cker!

Monday, December 10, 2007

NY Post Dating Section (and other things equivalent to Jesus)


There are few things in life I enjoy with no restraint; things such as fresh lobster ravioli… baseball games on a warm fall day…steel-ball massages from a man named ‘Dragon’ in China Town…but the one that tops all my all time favorite activities has got to be reading the NY Post dating section. Every Monday morning I anticipate the blood bath that is about to occur when two seemingly nice individuals from New York get to rag all about their date in well known newspaper. Most of the time people try and be fairly kind to the other participant, knowing full well the synopsis will be printed a week later. This Monday morning however, opening the dating section was like discovering Santa on a snowy Christmas morning.. and this time Santa wasn’t even drunk and trying to hump my Susie-Talks-A-Lot-Doll… And “Santa” this week, will go by the name of “Seema”. This 23 year old girl not only unabashedly hip-checked her date in the paper but she also ran her hockey stick right up into his na├»ve ass...which is exactly the way the dating game should be played.

Another common fact about NY Post dating is that nine out of ten times the girl makes SOME remark about how hot the camera guy is that comes to take their picture. Who is this fellow? Why is he so debonair and charming? Most camera guys I know have a large stock investment in Black Lee Jeans and Champion sweatshirts with puffy paint on them.

But before I continue on into the artwork that is this week’s NY Post Dating, I shall begin with,
--------------------------------------------------
Her Story:
Robert was sweating generously when I arrived, which was flattering, since I assumed he was nervous to meet me, but also slightly alarming - dude, it's just dinner.
We began talking right away, and the waitress had to come by three times before we had a chance to look at the menu. However, I soon learned that Robert's a TMI kind of guy: Over the next 2 ½ hours, he used our date to discuss very personal details of his life, to the point of his mother's reproductive history - no joke. Sure, we bonded over similarities like the trials of having immigrant parents, but for the record, I now totally relate to men who gripe about women who talk too much - after a while, even your smile begins to hurt.
Robert was a really nice guy, and our conversation never stalled. However, this guy had an opinion on everything, and I felt as if I was a sounding board instead of an equal participant in the conversation.

If I ever see him on the street, I'll be sure to say hi. But to be honest, the person who I'm actually looking forward to running into is the Post cameraman - holler at me, Rich!
-----------------------------------------

I actually quite enjoy that she used the word ‘Holl-ER’ instead of Holl’A’ I think it’s classy and respectful and shows Rich that she isn’t just in for the free camera cases.

In case you wanna read the whole thing: http://www.nypost.com/seven/12092007/entertainment/dating/forced_smiles__wandering_eyes_392588.htm

Friday, December 7, 2007

Friday's Deep Thoughts

So many online profiles contain inspirational quotes that say, “Dream Big!”. Everywhere you look people are telling you to, “Dream Big!” Go out, get what you want, reach for the stars, and remember To “Dream Big!”…But you know what? I prefer to “Dream Small!” In fact sometimes I like to ‘Dream Tiny!” I think if I Dream Small, then guess what? I will have already achieved my dreams! I dream about making enough money to afford a quality plastic razor, maybe not a fancy one, maybe just one with a nice moisturizing strip, or with even a grip-like handle that has suction, just so that I can shave my legs finally! And then I look down and realize, “Look! All my dreams have come true! I DO own a razor! And it DOES have a moisture strip!” This is why I Dream Miniature. Why do I want to Dream Big and set myself up for failure? I like to dream about obtainable things like recording TLC’s A Baby Story on my DVR finally. ...DONE! Wow, life is good. I encourage you all to Dream Tiny! Because Tiny Dreams do come true!

Thursday, December 6, 2007

My Hanukkah Rap hits stores

Apparently the Jews love a good rap! Benji K is an old colleague of mine, an exceptionally good writer and outrageously good looking....I fainted when I first saw him...either that or I was really really drunk...and passed out.
http://djbenji.blogspot.com/2007/12/kims-hanukkah-rap.html#links

Male and Female Apartments and I Cant Believe It's Not Butter

Last night a member of the male species emerged from our bathroom and proclaimed, “Well if I ever get shot or fatally wounded and am bleeding profusely I know there will be enough pads and tampons to save me and an entire army…” My roommates and I just stared at him.

Yes, I admit it; living with all women in a sorority style apartment is like swimming in the waters of a fallopian tube. There is enough estrogen in our place to make anyone want to curl up on the pink sofa with a nice Anne Geddes posters and cry. But the thing I have discovered is men also run in similar patterns.


Anne Geddes...because a period once a month isn't enough!

Just as a girls apartment always contains similar things- I Cant Believe It’s Not Butter Spray ( i love that shit!) and Sex and The City The Board Games ( i beat you Sarah! yes I did! I told you Charlotte dated a gay man in episode 45) ... . A guy's apartment is fashioned the same way, always containing the exact same things as well:

1- No real furniture except for one black leather couch
2- An enormous television that you all chipped in to lease from Rent-Depot
3- Video games with names like, “Things We Can Kill”
4- A Big Jugs magazine in the bathroom, or “horny red-heads” if you prefer..
5- Bottles of old Gatorade
6- A photo of someone puking that still makes you chuckle
7- Two black and white pictures hanging on the wall of the city YOU ACTUALLY LIVE IN (why? You live there! You see it everyday!)
8- The token blue comforter and flannel sheets (neither of which have been washed in two years)
9- A hole in one of the walls where someone punched it in the night their team lost (..I mean why? ..Just why?)
10- A CD of ‘girl’ music, that you only play right before you hook up, maybe Maroon Five or Sarah McLaughlin…just throwin that out there..
11- A box of condoms…I mean really…a BOX? Really?
12- Some kind of pleasure lube…and the ‘pleasures’ part normally means “Ouch ouch… my privates are on fire!”
13- A Doritos bag…no actual Doritos in the bag…just the bag

I challenge any guy to tell me he does not have at least two of these things in his apartment. And I also challenge my best guy friend in NY to stop putting graffiti paint on his NEW CONDO WALLS…. No one is impressed John, and you are not Spencer Pratt from The Hills, so just stop.

Monday, December 3, 2007

Where All My Jews At ?




In Honor of Hanukkah starting at sunset tomorrow, I have composed a rap:

Now some of ya’ll might celebrate this and some of ya’ll don’t,
Some of ya’ll might get wit this and some of ya’ll wont,
So let me clear my throat…

All my Jews with a 100 dolla dreidel put your hands up
With a 50 dolla dreidel put your hands up
You gotta 20 dollar dreidel put your hands up

Now, to all my ladies in the house if you got real Challa bread, real Kugel, you got a Temple...make some noise…

Now to all my brothers in the place who don’t give a damn about what them ladies talking about cause you just want to eat your Matzah balls. .make some noise…