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Sunday, February 28, 2010

A Taste of the Tropics

The streets of New York have been covered with snow, and I must admit I am sick of it.  Since the warm weather has not yet found me and I can't afford a plane ticket to anywhere sunny, I decided it was time to take some sort of action.  Inspiration spoke to me from the freezer section of my local bodega.  Ice cream is sorta take-it-or-leave-it for me, but I find sorbet scrumptious and refreshing.  Ciao Bella has mastered the art of this cool treat (as well as gelato) and has created tons of amazing flavors, including the new (or at least new to me) BANANA MANGO.  For a very brief moment I thought I was sitting on a beach...until I looked at my snow-draped patio.

I did not want the weekend to pass by without trying a new recipe (plus I felt like a depressed housewife eating the sorbet straight from the container), so I decided it was time to turn it into a real dessert.  I threw a heaping scoop of this delicious sorbet into a chocolate cup (which I happened upon randomly in the grocery store - great for entertaining...even if you're just entertaining yourself, like I was tonight), topped with a fresh cherry compote (easy - just add sugar to fresh or frozen fruit and heat in a saucepan), and tossed some granola on top for a little crunch.  Next time I may try using a different fruit, like a berry, because the cherries fought with the flavor of the sorbet a bit, but it was still very yummy and nice to have the warm fruit syrup over the cold sorbet.

If you're able to find Ciao Bella in your grocer's freezer, buy some.  The blood orange, passion fruit, and blackberry cabernet flavors are personal faves, and I just learned prickly pear and peach ginger are two new sorbets that just hit the market and sound right up my alley.  I may have to wait a while longer before this city warms up, but for now I'll close my eyes, eat some sorbet, and pretend I can feel the sun on my back and the sand beneath my toes.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Thank You, Will Ferrell

I just watched You're Welcome, America and found it hilarious.  Does that shock you?  Many would assume that, as a Republican, I would automatically hate something that is built on the mockery of "my people."  But funny is funny, my friends; and Will Ferrell is funny. 

I immediately regretted not getting off my booty to see this one man show live on Broadway.  As an avid Broadway lover and frequent attendee, I am surprised I never made it there but, alas, it was a short engagement and I missed my window.  Thankfully, HBO anticipated this huge error in judgement and taped it for my current enjoyment.  True, I got rid of all my premium channels (another error in judgement, I know - True Blood, Dexter, blah blah blah), but Netflix once again flew in to save the day.

If you enjoyed Will Ferrell's W impression on SNL, you'll love this.  It's bigger, better, and - as George Dubbs would say - more funnier.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Brussels Sprouts Should Not Get a Bum Rap

Another great meal chez Tess.  I decided to try my hand at brussels sprouts tonight.  I've recently come to fancy those peculiar veggies.  I didn't dislike them before; I just hadn't interacted with them much, and I certainly never cooked them myself due to the fact that they intimidated the bejeezus out of me.  I think brussels sprouts have surpassed broccoli as children's most hated vegetable, even though I'm sure most children have never even tried them - after all, I never tried them until I moved to New York.  This reputation made me leery of tasting them, but once I did, I was pleasantly surprised...maybe that's because the first time I tried them they were slathered with bacon.  But I was definitely too scared to try to cook them, assuming I would only like them if they were perfectly cooked - and how presumptuous to assume I would cook them perfectly?

But tonight was the night I threw caution to the wind and sauteed some shallots, tossed them with some some salt and pepper and halved brussels sprouts and roasted them until they browned.  That's it.  So easy and super tasty.  I tried to fry up some bacon because it was so good the first time.  Unfortunately, I bought the cheap bacon and took it out of the package to discover it was 99.9% fat with very little meat to be found, so I chucked it after finding it didn't fry well.  The sprouts were tasty, nonetheless, and I feel like less of a fatso.

But brussels sprouts are not a meal, oh no!  Tonight they were the leafy green side dish to shrimp with mushrooms, peas, and onions in a white wine sauce over Israeli cous cous (the larger, pearl style).  Another new dish that I'll have to make again.  I am so proud of how healthy (but still yummy) my dinner was.  I am also thankful I like it because I have enough leftovers to last me a week.  Any other brussels sprout converts out there want some leftovers?

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Easy PEAsy

Shame on me for not taking pictures, but I made a scrumptious dinner last night and would love to tell y'all about it in the hopes that you soon find yourselves in the throes of jealousy in front of your computer, begging me to cook for you.  I started with a hearty salad so I could get in my leafy greens, but the star of the show was the main course: homemade sweet pea ravioli.

Homemade ravioli may sound crazy, but it was incredibly easy.  Using wonton wrappers for the pasta was simple and left me with a lighter ravioli.  For the filling, I sauteed some peas and onions and then blended with ricotta and nutmeg.  After plopping them in simmering water for about 2-3 minutes, I topped with a light pesto and sauteed mushrooms (though it didn't even need the sauce).  The resulting dish was pretty (with the green filling peeking through the thin wonton), silky, and luxurious tasting...even though it was made in my far-from-luxurious Manhattan kitchen.  Jealous yet?  I would be jealous of myself except I get to have the leftovers for lunch today.

Monday, February 22, 2010

A Gal from Savannah Heads to Saravana

Here's a tip, fellow diners: if you walk into an ethnic restaurant and every patron is of that ethnicity and speaking a language other than English, you've likely hit the jackpot.  That was my experience this past Saturday night at Saravana.  Hearing only foreign sounds was music to my ears because I knew I was in for a good meal. 

I was lucky enough to get a quick, 20 hour visit from Avery this weekend.  Aves contends there is no good Indian food in DC for a reasonable price, so we hit up the trusty Zagat Guide to help us pick an NYC goodie.  My old friend Mr. Zagat steered us in the right direction.  The restaurant was packed, even though we were there at early bird special time.  I gotta hand it to Aves; she had no clue what she was ordering, and her tactic for composing our dinner was to basically point to one item from each area of the menu.  It worked.  We wound up with lentil doughnuts, a dosa filled with veggies, and a massive platter with rice and bread in the center and about 12 curries, sauces, and dips on the side.

As we were finishing our meal, the guy sitting next to us leaned over and said he was South Indian and Saravana served the best South Indian food he's tasted in America.  Score.  Not only was the food tasty (Aves said it was "life-changing" and mentioned something about her "mouth being happy"), we ordered way more than we could finish and our total (with tax) came to $34.

My one suggestion to the folks at Saravana: get bigger cups.  You may not have noticed, but your food tends to walk on the spicy side; thus, a shot glass of water does not suffice.  Invest in large glasses or provide each table with their own pitcher.  Other than that, great job; I'll be back soon.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Landmarc: On the Mark

Last night I hit up Landmarc in Tribeca with some co-workers, and I was happy I did.  Although it has been a short work week, we were thoroughly stressed by the end of Thursday and ready for some good food and wine.  Landmarc picks up flavors from all over Europe, but I kind of liked being able to have my French cheese plate (tasty, though the chesses were a tad mild) and goat cheese profiterals (the goat cheese cream center was a nice surprise inside the little puffs) alongside my Mediterranean lamb meatballs (full of spice and topped with a whipped ricotta). 

For my entrée, I took the waiter's recommendation and went with the lamb shank served with brussel sprouts and a bacon/celery root mash.  The meat fell off the Fred Flintstone bone and melted in my mouth.  Em's red snapper with pecorino polenta looked very yummy as well and Millie's steak was huge and perfectly cooked.  I love dips, so I was definitely intrigued when I saw that Millie was able to pick from a list of sauces to accompany her steak, but I'm still glad I stuck with my lamb shank because it was delicious and hearty.

After two bottles of wine and all that heavy food, we decided to pass on dessert, but I could not help but notice they were surprisingly well-priced ($4 each, $16 for a taste of all 8 or so treats).  Instead of the usual mints, the check arrived with a plate of ultra-creamy caramels.  After popping several of those in my mouth, I really didn't mind passing on the dessert menu.

The atmosphere was nothing special, but the friendly host, wait staff, and quality food made up for it.  It's definitely not cheap, but keep it on the radar if you want to splurge.

Bet on Betty

Apparently there is a widespread campaign to get Betty White to host SNL.  Betty White is genetically wired for SNL-type sketch comedy; it seems nearly impossible that she has not yet had her time to shine on the Saturday night staple. 

I have heard there is some viral outreach via facebook.  Will that be enough to satisfy you, Lorne?  What else do we have to do to make this happen?

My only concern is that, frankly, Betty White is old.  Is she really going to manage staying awake during the 11:30 PM - 1:00 AM timeslot?  That's practically past my bedtime, and I'm not 88 years old.  That said, how wonderful would it be to turn on the TV this Saturday night (or more likely my DVR on Sunday since I will either be out or asleep at 11:30 tomorrow night) to see everyone's favorite Golden Girl delivering the monologue.  I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Help Me Ronda

My friend Podz is crazy and runs marathon after tiring marathon.  She was sore from her latest 20 mile practice run (weenie), so I decided to give her leggies a break and headed to her hood for brunch on our day off from work this past Monday.  When I said I was in the mood for eggs, Sarah knew exactly where to take me.  Located on Columbus between 71st and 71nd, Cafe Ronda, specializes in Argentinean tapas, but as I said, I had eggs on the brain so I skipped the tapas/lunch portion of the menu. 

At first I was disappointed because I'm not big on omelets, and that seemed to comprise the lion's share of the egg menu...until I realized that all eight of the egg dishes could be prepared as omelets OR baked eggs.  That hooked me.  I'm on a big baked egg kick and they're not as prevalent as the benedicts of the world, so this was a treat.  Podz got one with asparagus and goat cheese and I chose the sausage with onions and peppers.  I ate everything on my plate, including the toast and homefries.  It wouldn't be brunch without bloody marys and mimosas, so we each had a couple drinks and stayed to chit-chat.  The staff was nice and didn't rush us out when we were clearly done with our meal and drinks.  I'm not in the UWS often, but if I ever travel back up there for brunch, I'll know a good place to go.

Los Feliz, Please

Saturday night, we headed to the LES to celebrate Matt's last year in his 20s.  Jen, ever the superior restaurant/location scout, chose Los Feliz as home to the festivities.  I knew I was in for a big night when I grabbed what I thought was an extensive wine list to discover that it was a list of the nearly 100 tequilas served.  Since tequila seemed to be their specialty, I figured it was not time to monkey with tradition and started the night with a hibiscus margarita (or three).

The restaurant is divided into three floors, each with a unique feel.  Go down one flight of stairs and you'll find yourself in the cavern-like dining room; one more flight down places you in the small, trendier lounge that somehow reminded me of Havana with the pink walls and beige couches (not that I've ever been to Havana, but I imagine/hope that's what it looked like in its heyday). 

Before toasting to the birthday boy in the lounge area, we ate a wonderful meal that I feel the need to describe to you.  We started with some chips with guac and creamy salsa for the table.  Dave and I then split a huitlacoche (pronounced: we-la-co-chay) soup.  Huitlacoche is a Mexican truffle that grows between corn kernels [best] during a drought.  Dave and I became obsessed with a similar soup at a wedding we attended in October so when we saw the dish on the menu, we couldn't pass it up.  In one spoonful, my happy tastebuds were taken right back to that fabulous San Diego wedding.  This version kicked it up a notch with some jalapeno and crab meat, very welcome additions.  After the soup, we split two orders of tacos (from a list of about 10 varieties).  Each order comes with two small tacos, in our case, filled with scallop and chorizo.  For the first time in my Mexican eating history, I was full but not overstuffed, which is a pleasant feeling before a night of partying.  The best part is that the pre-tax/tip food bill only came to $28 for the two of us!  Of course, the drinks increased the bill substantially, but I still thought it was a very good deal for such yummy food.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

"A box of 'em would be so nice (buy some!). Cheap at even twice the price!"

According to the sign taped to the mirror of the ladies' bathroom in my office, it's girl scout cookie time.  I hate those pint size cookie peddlers.  Tagalongs and Samoas the P.C. name for the cookies formerly known as Samoas are simply amazing.  Throw in some thin mints and you have the trifecta.  I have yet to find another cookie that can stand up to them.

I can't stand those green uniformed girls because they do not sell those delicious treats year round, forcing me to buy at least ten boxes at once to last me the rest of the year.  When they're that tasty and so cheap (just over $3 per box), it is impossible to resist.  Naturally, I can only make it about three weeks before stuffing my face and polishing off all boxes.  They may look sweet and innocent, but I have those pests to blame for the spare tire I will likely develop around my mid-section just before spring-break time.

Bonus points to anyone who can name the very relevant movie source of the quote used for the title of this post.  It's a classic.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Help is on the Way!

Kathryn Stockett's The Help was a wonderful quick read about Mississippi life (and Southern life in general) in 1962.  At the crux of the story sit three women - two black, one white - who come together to blur the racial lines that defined their every action.  Aside from the fact that I was delighted and thankful to be transported through the pages of this novel back to my beloved South during this snowy New York winter, I was grateful that this book spurred the wheels in my head into motion.

Born in 1985, I (unlike my parents) experienced neither the 1960s nor the segregated South, but I can still admit many of the customs described in this book (yes, even some of the more reprehensible ones) persist today.  True, all my life there has been a woman who has cooked and cleaned for my family.  No, we never made her use a separate bathroom like in the book.  And while [also unlike the families in the book] my parents were very involved in my upbringing, this woman played plays an extremely large role in raising me.  There were so many times while reading this book I stopped mid-sentence thinking I recognized certain behaviors, both good and bad.  In many cases, while it is no justification, I can only say "that's just how it was."

The South is a complicated place and this novel points out many of the intricacies that make it so.  Stockett points out this difficult place caught between moving forward and staying with "how it is."  Even Skeeter, the heroine of the novel championing for civil rights, shudders at the thought of a black woman and a white man together.  Not all traditions are so simple to shake and even the most progressive can remain stuck in the past at times.  It is clear Stockett has experienced the life she writes for her characters, and I am grateful she has put this out there for all to read.  Hopefully other Southerners will pick it up and see themselves somewhere within the pages. 

Movies: The Good, The Cute, and The Freaky (not necessarily in that order)

In the last week, I have managed to cross several movies off my list and because I'm sure you've been dying to know all about what I've been up to (really, what else would you be doing over the long Presidents Day weekend if not worrying about my movie watching and blogging habits?), I'm providing you a handy recap of all three.  Right here.  Right now.

First up, Grey Gardens.  Please note, the movie to which I refer is not the new HBO producing, Golden Globe winning, Drew Barrymore starring one - no no, this is the original documentary on which that movie was based.  Allow me to provide some of the crazy background.  Mother/daughter team Big Edie and Little Edie Bouvier Beale were two former socialites who moved out to their East Hampton mansion and basically became recluses until their awful living conditions (thousands of pounds of garbage, cats, no running water) were exposed by the National Enquire and opened them up to raids by the Health Department.  The home was going to be torn down until their niece/cousin, JACKIE O, paid to clean everything up.

The movie I watched was a documentary showcasing their sordid, bizarre, everyday lives.  Watching this movie was like seeing a car get T-boned on the highway in slo-mo.  In a good way.  As New York City socialites, they must have been normal at some point, but you have to search pretty deep beneath the crazy to see the women they used to be.  I have so many questions about these ladies.  I would love to have seen them in their youth and watched their descent into Crazytown, which is apparently located in the posh Hamptons area.

My favorite part occurs in the beginning of the film when Little Edie tells her 80 year old mother to cover up because of "the boobies".  I can't fully explain it, but I loved watching these women interact.  I also loved watching Little Edie call everyone "darling," which occurs approximately 792 times.

I'll go through the next two movies quickly:

  • Valentines Day: Adorable.  However, ladies, please don't force your boyfriends to see this as your own special Valentines Day activity.  He won't want to go.  When he tells you he does, he's lying, which if you think about it is sorta sweet, so keep him around.  Just go see a different movie together, like Shutter Island.  However, if you want to see a movie with the gals, this is a cute one.  If you enjoyed Love Actually, you'll like this.  If you don't make it to the theater, no big, but be sure to rent it later and watch with a bottle of wine.
  • Julie and Julia: So happy Dave got me this DVD for Valentines Day.  One of my top 4 books of all time is Julia Child's My Life in France, which is the basis for half this movie.  The other half is based on a women who likes to cook and blogs.  Huh, sounds familiar.  Glad I got to check this Oscar nom (for Meryl Streep's performance) off my list.  In the end, this movie is all about food and the modern woman.  I can't think of a worthier subject.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

They Broke The Mold When They Made Me

Well, obviously the title of this post is true.  Good or bad, I am a unique individual.  I emboss my books with my monogram after I finish reading them, in 7th grade I memorized the description booklet that comes with Godiva chocolates (for fun), and I can't sleep without my treasured stuffed animal, Bella.  The aforementioned quirks - along with many others - make me a tad...different.  I realize this and embrace it.  But I didn't really grasp how I stood in a league apart from my peers until a monumental event about 7-10 days ago: celebrity doppelgänger week on facebook.  If you don't know what this is (Mommy), last week, everyone started changing their profile pictures to feature the celebrities they're told they resemble.  Jake Gyllenhaals and Blossoms started popping up all over my newsfeed. 

Now, I am not a crazy facebooker by nature, and in recent months/years the toy has become a little less shiny in my eyes.  I don't do applications, status updates, or any of those games.  (I don't understand Mafia or Farmville, and if someone tries to explain them to me, I probably won't even pretend to listen.)  Needless to say, celebrity doppelgänger week is not my cup of tea, but I felt completely ashamed of my unique-ness upon realizing that I couldn't participate even if I wanted to.  I don't look like any celebrity.  I couldn't even pass for a cartoon character.  How embarrassing!   

At first it made me kinda sad realizing I wasn't cool enough to look like a famous person.  Now I realize that while I may not share a famous mug, that just means this face is all mine...unless, of course, someone wants to use it as their celebrity doppelgänger on facebook - in which case, I'd be flattered.

P.S.-If you do think I look like a celeb, please post in the comments

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Heya Paella

I love the new trend of specialty restaurants: places that only serve mac & cheese, meatballs, and now a paella restaurant.  Socarrat Paella is a tiny Chelsea restaurant with one looong table seating about 26 people.  They don't take reservations, but the attached Socarrat Bar is a great place to wait with a glass of sangria while munching on some tapas. 

We started with a few items off the tapas menu: fried artichokes, roasted pepper stuffed with a creamy cod mixture, pan tomaca (toast topped with tomato and garlic), and hanger steak that had been marinating in something magical.  Then it was onto the main event: the paella.  We ordered two for our group of three, which was most certainly too much, but with a list of eight paellas, we found it impossible to narrow it down to just one.  We picked a vegetarian one (filled with snow peas, artichokes, beans, mushrooms, zucchini, and tomato) and [my preferred] meat option (packed with pork, chicken, duck, chorizo, and mushroom sofrito).  They also have fish/shellfish, meat/fish combo, and rabbit/duck versions.

When the waitress set down our plates, they gave us the rules (Rule #1 of paella club: you don't talk about paella club): let the dish sit for two minutes before digging in, when serving, only take from the top so the bottom continues to cook in the special paella pan, and when you get to the bottom, scrape the now crunchy rice dish for a new flavor.  This crunchy, carmelized rice is called the socarrat and is what separates paella from a normal rice dish. 

We couldn't leave without a little dessert.  We tried the vanilla flan and a dish with a name I can't remember but that was described as a Catalan cheesecake.  It tasted like creamy cinnamon toast crunch flavored pudding with crème anglaise on top.  Yum. 

The food was delicious and the service just as wonderful.  The waitresses were very smiley and bent over backwards to scrape the socarrat for us.  Hint to all the fellas: if you want to take a gal to a cute date place and don't mind some sharing, I guarantee this one will be a hit.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Super Duper Bowl

In my mind, "Superbowl Sunday" equals "sinful food with a side of commercials."  Because I'm a college football fan who has yet to really get into the pros, food and advertising is pretty much my focus on the most famous Sunday of the year.  This year, we gathered at Richy and Lauren's apartment to watch the Colts and the Saints throwdown; however, I didn't really see this game as Saints vs. Colts.  To me, it was more Kim Kardashian vs. Kendra Girl Next Door.  It was the battle of the E! reality stars.

I love Superbowl food.  It's all about dips, beer, and greasy-ness.  In addition to the usual suspects (pigs in a blanket, salsa, and chili), there were a couple of standouts.  Hopefully my contribution was among them.  I brought lamb and goat cheese sliders in puff pastry with a roasted red pepper aioli sauce for dipping.  Way easier and less messy than it sounds.  Lauren made an amazing hummus layer dip.  I plan to get the recipe and pass it off as my own at my next party.  I kid; I'll give her credit.  I couldn't stop eating.  I made the mistake of placing my chair too close to the buffet and was slightly embarrassed when Dave looked at me wide-eyed and said "wow, you really are hungry."

Onto the ads:
  • Tebow's pro-life ad: hated it.  This has NOTHING to do with my stance on abortion (my views on which I will not state here).  I just didn't want to see Tim Tebow on the screen while I was watching the Superbowl.  The boy plagues me throughout the college football season and now invades the one day I care about the pros.  Get outta my face.
  • As always, Bud/Bud Light (particularly T Pain - because he makes an appearance in everyone's songs, why not their Superbowl commercials), and Doritos were solid
  • Boost Mobile Shuffle: left me confused
  • Why were there two no-pants commercials in a row (Dockers and Career Builder)?  Slightly disturbing.  Has ANYONE heard of boxers?!
  • Charles Barkley's Taco Bell rap: he just looked uncomfortable, which made me uncomfortable - not a good cycle
  • Hyundai's 2020 Favre MVP: Ha.  Because it's true.
  • Google's Parisian Love: This one made me go "awww".  It was pretty much as cute as a box of puppies.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Co-workers at Crispo

Last night my co-workers and I headed to the West Village for dinner at Crispo (a restaurant I've wanted to check out for a while).  Once again, we picked an Italian place, which is perfect because the apps lend themselves to sharing, my boss' favorite dining activity.  I find this odd because he is a raging germaphobe, making sharing complicated; but as long as he takes his portion first, we seem to be ok. 

Don't be discouraged by the neighboring storefronts; Crispo is a beautiful space.  As we walked to the very open back room, I noticed the décor is a nice mix of old world (rustic cast iron pots, brick) and new (bright, abstract artwork).  It was nice to see that they didn't take design inspiration from the sex shop next door.

We started with a cheese plate, risotto balls, and delish carmelized brussel sprouts.  The brussel sprouts were the first of several veggies we tasted last night that blew me away.  The cauliflower and spinach we ordered with the meal were amazing.  Sounds boring, but so full of flavor.  For my entrée, I couldn't decide between the duck and veal saltimbocca, so I deferred to the waiter.  Although the duck sounded more interesting, he convinced me that the saltimbocca was the best in the city, and I'm glad I went with his recommendation because it really did "jump in my mouth". (Yes, that's right, I know the translation of saltimbocca.  Impressed?  You should be.  This is reason #762 why I'm a great catch.)  For dessert, we tried the crème brûlée, chocolate pot de crème, tiramisu, and berries with marscapone.  All food was yummy and I plan to return, but considering it's not the cheapest of restaurants (particularly if you want to order like we did), I'll have to build up some cashola first.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Groundhog: Least Favorite Animal of the Moment

Today, the groundhog is #1 on my shit list (pardon my French, Mommy).  Six more weeks of winter?  Are you kidding me?!  It was 13 degrees when I woke up on Saturday.  13!  My Southern body temperature does not handle 13 degrees well.  I'm ready to stop covering my body with bulky sweaters and coats.  I have a constitutional right to bear arms.  

That groundhog better be careful because if I have six more weeks of hibernation to look forward to, that's plenty of time to plot my revenge against the groundhog.  I've already got one retalliation scheme in mind involving an anvil, bunch of radishes, and an electric razor.  Watch your back, groundhog.

The Story on "The Story of Edgar Sawtelle"

Last night, I finished reading The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by Dave Wroblewski.  It was a *nice* novel about a mute boy who has suffered a tragedy and his loyal dog companion.  Though enjoyable, it was very slow.  It picked up around the halfway point, but when you're dealing with a 562 page book, that's a lot of reading to do before it gets interesting.  I also felt the author left a lot of loose ends.  Hint to writers: if you're going to tease me with a new character or plot line, do it all the way. 

The novel was a modern day Hamlet, a fact I didn't realize until I checked out the interview with the author in the back of the book.  Of course then it became absurdly obvious.  Silly Tess.  After absorbing that bit of info, I found the story much more interesting. 

Oprah, this wasn't an awful pick, but not your best.  Next up: The Help - stay tuned.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Question of the Day

Why is there no phrase to be said after someone hiccups?  You could sneeze in the middle of the street and a complete stranger will lean over and say "bless you" or "gazundheit".  Let me remind you that a stranger in New York City saying anything to you other than "outta my way" is something of note.  But suddenly I sneeze and they're blessing me!  It gives me the warm fuzzies.  Meanwhile, I hiccup - an act that brings any conversation to an awkward pause - and nobody says anything.  I can tell they want to, they just don't know what it is they're suppposed to say.  Any suggestions?


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