The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroke

Two weeks ago I saw Mama Mia! I know that sentence makes it look like I am still so excited about my theater-going venture that I feel compelled to use an exclamation point, but if you are in the know, watch Bravo, or have ever looked at the back of an ABBA album, you understand that this is not the case. Yes, I did go to the movie opening night, and yes it was the same night that The Dark Knight was released, and yes I enjoyed a meal at The Olive Garden beforehand, but this does not, in fact, make me a fanatic. That said, I did cry a little and deemed it a delightful summer romp that did a great job of not taking itself too seriously. I also thought Pierce Brosnan was terribly miscast.

The movie made me feel many things:
1. Amanda Seyfried will no longer be known as Karen from Mean Girls
2. Amanda Seyfried has an amazing rack and made a beautiful movie bride
3. I want to have an adult daughter
4. I want to have an inn in Greece

But mostly, I was struck by what a great idea it is to create a show out of music that already exists and started brainstorming about how I could cash in on it. All you have to do is write the story that frames the music and it doesn't even have to be very good or even particularly feasible. (As my friends pointed out, Meryl and Amanda could have probably just taken a LOOK at the potential fathers to, at the very least, narrow it down to two.) I have decided that the music of Queen is the perfect fit. It's already pre-chorally-arranged and the tone of almost all the music lends itself to explosive dance numbers. This way, casting lots of extras to fill the stage will be a snap.

I'm thinking it's the story of one man. He's a staunch and savvy business man. The opening provides exposition on his life and is set to "Under Pressure." Somehow he develops a meth habit (we could go on a D.A.R.E. tour. They still have D.A.R.E. right?) that gets out of control. The soundtrack to his downward spiral is "Don't Stop Me Now." Somewhere along the line he falls for the wrong girl. She is glamorous and rich and older than him. She might be played by Diane von Furstenburg (she doesn't have to sing and can provide costumes). He sings "Killer Queen" whilst lounging around her impossibly luxe apartment. He steals money from her. Then...SOMEthing happens...
Anyway he ends up in the gutter. Big company number: "Somebody to Love". He has a turnaround and the show closes with a blissful and rousing rendition of "You're My Best Friend." The audience joins in. Awards are won.

There are still details and logistics to figure out of course, but I assume one of my sisters would do the choreography, the other would do the vocal direction, and my brother could get together and lead the instrumentalists. I would be the visionary so all we need are rights to the music and financial backing. I plan to unveil it in my elementary school's rec center summer of 2011. Tickets are a $100 bucks (roughly) and we will hold a meat raffle at intermission. There is a possibility you will be badly burned or lose an eye during the performance. FROM HOW REAL YOUR TEARS ARE.

Smell Ya Later

WOW I just have to say that, so far, today has been exceptionally smelly. Maybe it was the early morning, disgustingly humid air that brought out the worst in Northeast and downtown Minneapolis but my bus just smelled straight up of urine. And the guy next to me was like convulsing with laughter at whatever he was reading so I kind of leaned under him to try and see the dust jacket and make note. You want to know what it was? A Midsummer Night's Dream. I mean, yeah, it is categorized as a "comedy" but it's like a study in comedy. It's comedy for people who don't watch TV. Plus, really? I mean I appreciate the mirth and the myth and the fantasy of the writing but like, laugh out loud on the bus funny? I just don't think it's what Bottom and Robin Goodfellow originally intended.

Somewhere around Dunn Brothers smelled just like old potato salad, and then I was hit my the overwhelming stench of like, a dog's ear, you know? Like something that smells like it is waxy and cavernous and INside. SICK! People always say that they love the smell of the air after the rain. But to me it does not smell fresh and washed away. It smells like all the smelliest smells that have been hiding under the blanket of dryness have released themselves from the earth and come out to play with their other, dirty-little-kid friends.

Not to mention the worms. You can talk about Easter and rebirth and buds on the trees all you like, but this is the reason I don't like Spring in general and crave the Fall all year round. Even when it is Fall.

Anyway, as sort of a disclaimer, I would like to say to the people that I work with at my full-time job who might read this blog, per yesterday's post I do not plan to quit.

But I will probably quit my restaurant job. I have never quit a job before and would like some tips on how to make it a little bit dramatic. I plan on, at the very least, a strongly worded letter to my new manager listing my reasons for quitting.

What I don't want to do is sing a little song about it like when Johnathan Schaech (?) quits The Wonders in That Thing You Do. My roommate feels this scene is "embarrassing."

It's Enough To Drive You Crazy If You Let It

In an effort to prepare for an upcoming karaoke outing, I listened to the song I plan to sing approximately ten times on the way to work today.

The song is 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton and it's a karaoke song that I have never performed before. As much as karaoke is still fun when it's kind of shitty, I prefer to rock it and not be caught with my proverbial pants down. So if it's a song I don't know THAT well, I like to give it a listen just to know if there is some crazy high chorus, or like, a beatboxing section that I am going to be completely thrown off by. The event for which I am preparing is just a night at The Vegas Lounge. There's no honor, no glory, and no cash prize. There are mostly drunk middle-agers that won't even perk up an ear for a youngin' unless they are singing Crazy by Patsy Cline (which I often do). But this weekend, some very special drunk middle-agers will be in the crowd, my friend Brett's parents, and I want to impress the hell out of them so they tell all their hunting buddies how Brett's cosmopolitan, Minneapolis friends are "just so talented."

But something happened that I wasn't expecting. Let me walk you through my growing ire with each reprise of the song.

First time through: "Man this is a good song! It's been such a long time since I've seen this movie...I wonder if that's what kind of ushered it the chic secretary blouse or if the blouse came first. I really wish I would have gone to Dollywood when we went to Tennessee. Maybe next summer..."

Second time: "Okay gotta get serious about learning these lyrics. They go by kind of fast and they are POIGNANT so you'll want to be sure and spit them all out and - oh hey! She just said 'out on the street the traffic starts jumpin' and THAT'S what's happening to ME right NOW. This applies so much to my life! It's my anthem! 'HEY PEOPLE OF DOWNTOWN! I AM A WORKING GIRL!' - maybe not such a good idea to announce to the warehouse district..."

Third time: "I have to try and remember to do that pretty little upswing she does on 'the tide's gonna ROLL you away' part and to not rush it. I feel so bad for her. No one knows how smart she is. NO ONE BUT ME. She is just a step on the boss man's ladder but he would never get to where he is without her. No one in country music would be where they are today without HER. She can accompany herself on her NAILS for pete's sake! HOLD ONTO YOUR DREAMS DOLLY - don't let them go and watch them shatter."

Fourth time: "Basically I have this memorized. With the help of screen lyrics I should be fine. But what is MY dream? Am I really going to spend all my life putting money in his wallet? Don't I deserve a fair promotion? WILL I EVER MAKE IT TO OPRYLAND?"

Fifth time: "I'm quitting my job."

Nutter Butter

One of the challenges in making pie wherein custard is the star, is simply striking the right balance between the richness of the custard and the thickness and consistency of the crust. This recipe is a great one to try if you are making a fruit and custard tart.

BONUS: Adding nuts is also a great way to lower (slightly) carbs if you are cooking for people who care about that shit. They probably won't want custard though either. In the case of these kinds of guests, fill the pie with sausage. Anyway...

Almond Pie Crust from Chef de Cuisine - makes one 9 inch pie crust

3/4 cup flour
1/4 cup sliced almonds
1 teaspoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons chilled butter
1 tablespoon cold water

For this you really want to use a food processor or you will spend all your time trying to get the nuts to break down uniformly.

Start by preheating your oven to 425 degrees.
Blend first 4 ingredients in food processor until nuts are finely ground.

Cut butter into pieces and add to flour mixture. Process until it resembles coarse meal.

Add enough water and blend until dough clumps together. Wrap in plastic and chill for at least 20 minutes.

Roll out on a lightly floured surface and transfer to tart pan with removable bottom. This last bit is important as this particular crust is not as sturdy as other all flour-and-fat one. Freeze crust in tart pan for about 30 minutes.

Pre-bake crust for about 15 minutes. Cool, Reduce oven to 325 degrees. Bake crust until lightly brown.

Spoon vanilla custard in bottom of crust, cover with fresh fruit, and glaze.

As the Teen Girl Squad would say "SOOoooOOO GOOD!"

No, Rose, The Katzenjammer Kids

You will be missed, Ma.

New Five Year Plan

Well I found out that the winner of the annual Pillsbury bake-off gets A MILLION DOLLARS and now my life is ruined. Today I am grocery shopping and I am going to buy every product they have with the doughboy on it and force feed my over the top creations to my roommate until I make it, sliding in on a stick of butter leaving a glorious sugar trail, to the competition in Dallas.

Here's how it works. There are seven categories including crap ones like Mexican Favorites, which never get the grand prize, and one sponsored by GE that I totally don't understand. To get to the competition, you have to be one of one hundred finalists in your category and that admission is based on your recipe alone. Once there, you get three hours to make three versions of your recipe and then you pick one to present to the judges for tasting. Each category winner gets 5,000 dollars and then of those seven people, one person gets a MILLION DOLLAR prize. This year's winner, Carolyn Gurtz, was from the peanut butter category:

Her recipe includes chunky peanut butter, sifted flour, MSG, angel tears, and white guilt.

Carolyn Gurtz has probably been entering and winning competitions like this one since before I was born so I already know that I have hurdles to overcome.

But then I remembered that I once met Mr. Pillsbury himself.

The circumstances of my meeting him are another post entirely, but he has a house in Wayzata which is filled with little embroidered pillows that say things like "happiness is marrying your best friend". He also has major eye boogers. But that whole house just makes you want to die it's so flippin' cute. Mrs. Pillsbury, who is still really a stylish and sassy old lady, has a bath in her home office and it is surrounded with pictures of her children and grandchildren. She has a little greenhouse full of orchids and at some point the two of them purchased a questionable metal sculpture from their son's artist friend and plunked it in their gorgeous front yard. They are one of the original Minneapolis power couples. I tibbled from my glass of wine and had the following exchange with Mr. Pillsbury:

MP: "So you're a Smithie are you?"
Me: "Actually no, I went to school in Iowa. I went to Luther."
MP: "So you know old Westie Noble do you?"
Me: "Well not so much personally but sometimes I see him picking up trash around campus using a fifty dollar bill as a glove."
MP (unfazed): "Now what do you do?"
Me: " I uh...welll-"
MP (grandly): "My family was in the flour business."

Yes Mr. Pillsbury, I hear it was quite the racket. Now give me a cool mill for my Orange Dreamsicle Crescent Roll Nut Delights so I can pay off my student loans and the debts of my family, buy myself a modest home and then an amazing cabin, and put the rest into an aggressive growth mutual fund.

Tut Tut, Looks Like Rain

I really don't like my Tuesday/Friday morning bus driver. He takes too many liberties with the little microphone up front. For example he likes to tell us on Tuesday that we are "almost halfway through the week folks....there's only a couple more of those work-a-days left and you already put Monday behind you! It's Tuesday, folks, TUESDAY!" I just want to listen to CSNY and read the back section of my alumni magazine in peace so that I can make note of what CRAZY names people who are like two years younger than me have decided to name their second son. That I could do a whole post on.

Anyway, Takes-up-two-seats (which is the public transport Indian, sorry, Indigenous Peoples, name I assigned to her) LOVES him. I am not such a big fan of Takes-up-two-seats, because, as her name suggests, she is kind of inconsiderate. She is also EXTREMELY chatty, but only with the driver and the driver alone. This is another thing that bugs me about TUTS: stop distracting the damn driver! I know he is probably tired of announcing the same streets in the same order every day but I'd still like to arrive at the oft-puke-ridden corner of Washington and Hennepin in a single piece.

For the last three days TUTS has been describing to our different drivers, all the OTHER drivers that she doesn't like and whom she "may have reported". Each driver, all other passengers, and probably TUTS herself know that these threats are empty but I still don't appreciate the frequency and the vehemence with which she continues to threaten this. On my last day of riding with her (she will soon have her truck back, she tells the driver), I plan to present TUTS with an oversized tote bag in which she may transport the eight other small bags which she usually carries and which spill out across, at the very least, two of the bench seats intended for elderly and disabled people. This is my gift to future riders and drivers alike, but still doesn't ensure that she won't still sit in the middle of the bench and cross her legs towards the front of the bus, continuing to fulfill her destiny and TAKE UP TWO SEATS.

She makes me miss the Jimmy Lemon Lady.

Joe Mande, Don't Get Auf'd

Another season of Project Runway, another contestant that looks like a gay version of the missing link between my friend Joe Mande and Chris Kattan. This is Joe:

He is a talented writer and comedian living in New York City and we had many classes together in high school. During the last season of Project Runway, a lot of Joe's friends (and some strangers) went out of their way to tell him how much he looked like and reminded them of the contest winner Christian Siriano.

Maybe it's hard to see the similarity if you have never met Joe in person or heard him speak, but believe me it's there. The girls that I watch PR with also went to school with Joe and as we recognized Christian to be the gay Joe, we gained affinity for him and cheered him on to victory during the last season. Based on this fact alone, I have chosen my season five winner and it's Daniel Feld:

He was the one that made the cup dress in the first challenge. As with any reality show, it's hard to keep all these "characters" straight until a couple episodes in so my screening group assigns quick and easy nicknames to their favorites.
Daniel=Joe Mande
Korto=Jennifer Hudson
Jerry (auf'd)=Uncks, which was derived from Uncle Jerry, which is NOT a nickname
Blayne=Orangeface
Suede=NEXT TO GO

I am excited to see what happens.

Gayblescapes

A few nights back, confronted with a particularly lame late night cable lineup, I watched a segment of the E! True Hollywood Story of Rachael Ray. At first I thought, "really scraping the bottom of the barrel for new programming E!" which is true. I can't really think of a less, like, salacious person to do an hour-long special on. But the particular part of this episode of THS that I happened to catch focused mostly on the woman who started this community: http://community.livejournal.com/rachael_ray_sux.

I know. It's fair, it's warranted, and as Rachael herself is quoted in response to the website, "you can't please everyone". But I feel like this woman is about three years too late for this. Rachael Ray hatred is passe. It's like complaining about telemarketers or getting all up in arms about novelty rap or Lynne Spears' tell all book. I admit that a few years back, my sister and I would cringe at the mention of EVOO and sammies and whatever but today we will both tell you that when we cook a big meal that involves the peeling of many things, we use garbage bowls. Rachael Ray is like a barnacle. A barnacle that is so far on the underside of the ship that you can sail along effortlessly day-to-day and not even notice her. Plus I think her new hair cut is cute.

Anyway, this all got me thinking about two things:
1. Which Food Network star truly deserves an hour long special on E!? and
2. If forced to create a whole online community around a TV personality (besides Tyra, obviously)that I pretty much despise, who would I pick?

The answer to both of these questions is Sandra Lee.

Or rather, at least for question 2., my answer might be Sandra Lee's tablescapes. This is because no matter how stupid I think their concepts are, I have to respect the empires that these people have managed to build. Even if I think Tick-Tock Clocktails (an actual drink from an episode of Semi-Homemade) are the most retarded things on the planet and are essentially Cosmopolitans served with a watch, I would trade my own job for hers any day.

But the tablescapes, sweet baby Jesus, the tablescapes. Observe:

As if you couldn't already guess, this is Sandra's Nutcracker Christmas tablescape and it doesn't leave any room for food. There is always an INSANE amount of crap involved in these elaborate themes and it makes me wonder what her attic or separate storage facility looks like. Her tip for tree decorating? Terrific Tip: Make the tree twinkle with glasses hung like bells. They don’t need to match – wire a variety of cocktail glasses, wine goblets and champagne flutes to the branches, plug in the lights and see it glisten. Guess what? It looks like total shit!

It's also begging for a child to walk by and totally cut themselves on. Happy bloody holidays! See? Even the Nutcracker Prince in the background is looking on with a watchful eye thinking "what did that crazy bitch try and make with all her extra glassware now?"

Here is her suggestion for the kind of people who might host a Casino Night:

What dude is going to want to swill beer and bet his last student loan payment under a chandelier made of cards and poker chips? The only things that fit in here are the shot glasses.

I also love how her sets are totally matchy matchy with her outfits. I think I'll just leave you with this final image of complete obsessive compulsive behavior.

A Skinnier Pie or What to Make When You Have Run Out of Dairy

Let's get one thing straight. When it comes to baking, I don't really advocate for cutting calories, or making Sandra Lee style shortcuts. If you are going to heat up your house and have a dessert it might as well be the real deal. That said, sometimes you just don't have shortening in the house. That happened to me a couple years back while staying with my hippie friend Lora. She didn't even have butter, but she did have the internets(go figure)so I tracked down this "healthy" alternative and it made a pretty decent crust.

Olive Oil Pie Crust
2/3 cup of olive oil
2 1/2 cups unbleached flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 cup ice water
1 egg
1 tbsp of vinegar

The first thing you'll want to do here is to measure out the olive oil and stick it in the freezer until it is almost frozen. This way the fat you are using in the recipe mimics the action that cold butter or lard would normally have in a recipe like this.

Combine flour, baking powder, and salt in a bowl and stick THAT in the fridge too. Measure out the water in a big Pyrex measuring cup and beat in the egg and vinegar. Guess what? You can stick that in the fridge too. If you have a marble rolling pin, put that in the crisper - just for kicks.

When oil is of the right consistency, cut it into the flour mixture. Working quickly, mix until it forms uniformly course crumbs. Add the liquid ingredients gradually, tossing lightly with a fork, until dough sticks together. If dough is too wet add a little extra flour. Roll out onto floured surface. Use as you would use any regular pie pastry.

This recipe make enough for a 9" double crust pie. This dough is fairly easy to work with, but is best not overworked.

Before baking the pie shell prick all sides, bottom and edges of crust. Add pie plate, weights, or dried beans in center to reduce shrinkage. Bake at 400 degrees F about 10 to 15 minutes.

Your Piece of the Pie

This is a breakdown by percentages (which may or may not add up to 100%) of all the tasks I performed during my work day today.

Searching for images of interracial couples - 13%
Eating pineapple and passion fruit sorbet - 4%
Organizing office ride share for work party tomorrow and responding to emails - 9%
Trying on silly hats and making the subsequent photos of said activity into a slide show (to be later set to music) - 24%
Editing - 17%
Coveting dress by Original Penguin on Overstock.com - 2%
Triple-checking correct measurement of "virtual" pressure ulcers - 9%
Conference call - 12%
Having very pleasant interactions with salespeople and fellow customers alike at downtown Macy's - all the rest %. Not to mention- the most favorable.

Please breakdown your day for me. Pie chart preferred.

He Thinks He's People

I believe in God, but I have never thought for a second that we didn't come from monkeys. I still don't understand why so many people think that these two theories/beliefs are mutually exclusive but that's not really the point. The point is that you need to meet Nyota. Nyota is the bonobo chimp pictured above and he is proof, at least to me, that monkeys are people. Why? Because in the midst of my research about primate retirement centers (more to come on that), I started reading about Nyota. First there is this kind of a reductive profile on him.
Name: Nyota
Birthday: April 4, 1998
Favorite food: Bananas
Favorite game: Watch tv
Favorite toy: Bubbles

My internal monologue:

Wait, wait, waaaaiiitttt. Bananas? TV? Bubbles? I mean he's a little bit younger than me but this pretty much is what my Facebook profile says. Or if I haven't included on there how much I like bubbles, I'm about to....make note on my hand of that annndddd READ ON.

Then I got to the part that says "recently Nyota has shown interest in learning stone tool knapping, fire making, and painting." I was an anthropology major in college. This doesn't really mean anything except that I hung out with lots of stoner artists and took a lot of classes that no longer apply to my life. Nyota's recent interests essentially describe my scholastic experience and for my ethno and experimental archaeology class I did a little stone tool knapping myself and guess what? It's really fucking hard! Oh hey! Make this sharp, functional rock tool out of a rock and the only tools you have at your disposal are rocks themselves and other tools made out of rocks. It is worth 75 percent of your grade. When you are done, you should be sure to check ditches for deer carcasses because next week we have to make needles out of bones so that you can sew together some cattail reed mats and ribs really work best...

Now here is where we kind of start to veer off into separate directions. "Nyota's lexigram utterances have always been unusual and distinct. Most recently, a common expression of his is "QUIET THINK" which we translate into "Let's have some quiet time together."

While I do consider some of my utterances to be unique, I rarely have the expression of "QUIET THINK" on. The one I more often wear is, well, "GREASY FACE" and practically all the time "WAITING TO TALK".

I wondered if any of the other monkeys fit descriptions of the people in my life. I think this one might be my friend Sarah Korsch:


His name is Kanzi and this is his profile:
Name: Kanzi
Birthday: October 28, 1980
Favorite food: Onions
Favorite game: Chase
Favorite toy: Red ball

Now Sarah, before you get mad I think you should know that, "If there were a superstar within the bonobo community, Kanzi, which means "treasure" in Swahili, would certainly be it."

I am going to take a page from Nyota's words and work on "QUIET THINK" for at least the rest of the day.