Dear Rachel and Baltazar's Baby: You Are Going to be a Star.

This entry is dedicated to my new favorite baby on the block, LittleRachelAndBaltazar (LRAB for short) who's so fucking hipster, he listens to bands you haven't heard of and HE.HASN'T.EVEN.BEEN.BORN.YET.

Dear LRAB,

One day (when I'm even more rich and famous than I am today) you will read this blog entry and all of the mysteries of the world will be solved. I'm going to tell you a little story of how your parents met and you're going to enjoy it.

These were high school days. Your dad did all this rock band stuff (like REAL rock bands, none of this video game bullshit). Your mom was a beautiful little ballerina. They were seemingly in two different worlds. But then one day, they sat next to each other in the cafeteria (probably eating cheeseburgers or pizza because those were the only acceptable items on the menu), and there was a spark. Cupid was there and he punched your parents in the guts and said "Look fools, maybe it's not going to happen right now, but you're gonna fall in love. Mark my words." And low and behold, ten years later they had a beautiful dreamy wedding.

Fast forward two years, and here we are. You are going to be here in T-minus 4 weeks (or maybe less, I'm not really good with the numbers). Lots of people are essited to meet you and everyone knows you will put those celeb crybabies like Kingston Rossdale and Levi McConaughey to shame.

Alright, that's enough of that, baby. Now onto my gifts.

(The name is blacked out to protect the innocent. I don't want the little tyke getting mobbed by all my fandom.)

As soon as I laid my bedroom eyes on these two items I just KNEW they would be perfect for you. And if your mom and dad have any doubts, they can give them back to me and I will use them for my own personal enjoyment/ doodling purposes.

A "Baby's Firsts" memory book for modern parents. Cool, totally useable and definitely fun to look back years from now and see when you first pooped your pantalones.

Rockabye Baby: Lullaby Renditions of Nirvana. If this isn't that raddest baby gift, I don't know what the fuck is. You can preview the songs here. They're actually pretty hard to recognize, but I guess that's what happens when you play grunge with harps and bells. (Ok, honestly, the more I listen to the previews, the more I just want to buy this CD for myself.)

So baby LRAB, I don't want to hear "Auntie TILTE, tell me the story about how my mommy and daddy met agaaaaaaain..." because I won't do it. Instead, I will sit you down in front of the computer (like any respectable babysitter would do) and direct you to my blog. Partly because I lay it all out for you right here. And also partly because I like to get hits on my widgit.

See you soon, babeh.

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Polish Food in the Hizzouse.

Helloooooooo again!!!

I know I've TOTALLY been neglecting the food part of this blog, but to be honest with you I haven't had my usual voracious appetite these past few weeks. In fact, my food selections have been downright suicidal. But don't worry, I'm totes bringing sexy back. And by bringing sexy back, I mean I cooked dinner tonight.

Tonight's menu: Pierogies

You will need the following items:

Pierogies.

If you've never tried them before, pierogies are like little pasta pockets filled with mashed potatoes and cheese. They come in other flavors, but this flavor is that only one that matters to me. This meal is 100% carb. And also 100% heaven.

Mrs. T's is my favorite brand mostly because it's the only one I've tried. Mrs. T's (not to be confused with Mr. T) can be found in the freezer section next to other exotic items, such as challah bread and latkes.

Ok, so the recipe goes something like this. Boil frozen pierogies for like 5 minutes. Or until they all float to the top.

Remove from water and continue cooking process with a skillet and oil. Fry those badboys lightly so they're goldeny delicious. This step also adds shine and lustre to your hair within 3-5 days.

The process could stop there, but since I like to eat like kings, I top mine with grated chedder and serve with sour cream on the side. (I went a little overboard with the cheese. So what.)

And Voila! Get your Polish on!

Speaking of Polish, my good friend Randy (holla!) steered me in the direction of a website called What the Fuck Should I Make For Dinner? This site wins on name alone.

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Auto Response: Out of the Office

Guess what?!

I'm totally being lazy... a post will come one of these days, I'm sure. But for now, you'll have to deal with...

MEeEeEL GIBSOoOoOoN!!!

Really fucking hilariously cuckoo...? Or just misunderstood...? Discuss...

(And for anyone who's been living on planet NoClueWhatsGoingOn, you can listen here.)

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MORE AWARDS?!?! Dreams are coming true, folks...

Mega sorries for the delay since my last post. If you're anything like I imagine you are, I'm sure all 6 of you have had some pretty restless nights and many days were spent viciously refreshing your blogroll.

So I'm back. And guess what! (I know. There's no surprise because I can't keep a secret and already spilled those beans up there in the title.) I have more aWaRdS!!!
Shall I do the honors?? Of course, I shall.

Thankyou thankyou thankyous to my new internet besties (Note: Anyone who gives me an award gets an automatic promotion to this prestigious status) Lacey Ree at This Freckled Lemonade, Jessica at Cheese Grater in Paradise, and Coyote Rose at Dancing on the Bar of Life. All of these lovely ladies think that MY blog is worthy of the (wait for it.......) Versatile Blogger Award!!! And if three separate geniuses happen to think I'm a versatile blogger, well, who am I to argue.

In fact, I'm so versatile, I googled images for "Versatile Blogger" and picked another image to use as my award. This is cutting edge stuff here, people.

According to the rules of the world wide web, the award goes something like this:

1. Thank the award giver. (Duh. I'm not turning my backs on you now, mes amis.)

2. Share seven things about yourself. (Only seven??? This is where I may have some difficulties.)

3. Nominate new award winners and let them know. (Oh, don't you worry. Check and check.)

Ok, so since THREE (did you catch that? I said THREE) people nominated me, I feel it's only natural to share 21 things about myself. And for those of you who are my real-life friends, most of these may seem familiar because they've been recycled from a Facebook note.

1. I don't like chocolate, marshmallow, coconutz, or peanut stuff.

2. When I was around 8 years old I begged my mom for L.A. Gear shoes. For Christmas she got me cheap knock-offs because we didn't have a lot of money. I wanted to DIE. Now I look back and think it's lame that it bothered me so much.

3. There's a rumor going around that I got wasted and puked at a Bat Mitzvah.

4. My college roommate Katie and I backpacked across Europe- London, Paris, Barcelona, Valencia, Rome, and Amsterdam to be exact. It was the trip of a lifetime.

5. I wish I had the time/ money to take fine art classes again.

6. Try putting a dress on a cat. You'll love the way it looks, I guarantee. And by looks, I mean paralyzes.

7. I'm lactose intolerant. Despite my gastrointestinal tract's pleas for mercy, half of my diet consists of butter and cheese. (Shout out to my homie Lactaid Fast Act.)

8. Accidentally saying "Reece's Penis" (instead of Reece's Pieces) or "Beaver Cleavage" (instead of Beaver Cleaver) or that you want to live in a "condom" (instead of a condo) when you are little is NOT funny.

9. I made it all the way to the state level of the Science Fair. I have the trophy to prove it.

10. As a kid I had imaginary friends who were mice named Kiki and Kuku.

11. One day in college Susie and I thought it would be funny if I played a trick on Rawnie by telling her to wear a certain outfit (I had the EXACT same one, head to toe) to class the next day. So, the next day I wore the same outfit and caused a scene saying "Oh my god, I TOLD you I was going to wear this today! Why would you do that?!?"

12. I lovelovelove disco music- my favorite song is "You Make Me Feel" by Sylvester. I wish Studio54 was still around and I was cool enough to get in.

13. A few years back I was taking Christmas photos of my sister and her kids all dressed up. My niece Annalise was sitting on my lap all prim and proper in her Christmas dress when she accidentally farted. I laughed so hard, launching her off my lap saying "Ewwwww, Annalise- gross!!!" She got really embarrassed and ran out of the room, crying. I still think it's funny.

14. One time in Vegas, I was pulled on stage by Penn and Teller to be a magician's assistant. I will share this story with you at a later date.

15. It makes me sad when I see older people working minimum wage jobs. That's someone's grandparent, they should be relaxing with their grandkids, not cleaning up my dirty dishes.

16. I will take a Stella over a glass of wine, any day.

17. My favorite genre of music is 80's New Wave. There aren't nearly enough dance clubs that cater to this type of enjoyment.

18. I have a deep-rooted fondness for carbohydrates. And horchata.

19. My favorite toy as a child was a dollhouse my Grandpa bought me. From the thrift store.

20. Sometimes when I'm at my desk I find it hard to concentrate on anything other than my bellies hanging over my jeans.

21. I lived in a UCLA frat house one summer. Talk about disgusting.

I am now passing this magnificent award on to...

Danielle at So Here's What You Missed...

Ally at Fourth Grade Nothing

Asha Lanae at ...Project Me

RN Mama at 29 and Holding...

Junks at Junket Juice

And for my next bit of totally believable unbelievable news, Sara Louise from Le Petite Village has ALSO given me an award!!! That's right. Amazing things are happening.

For this award, you need to list ten things that make you happy. Since I could be here all day, I'm going to limit my answers. Here we go...
1. Good makeup days.
2. Good parking spots.
3. Good meals.
4. Good deals.
5. Making food that isn't poisonous.
6. Being goofy with friends.
7. Playing Rock Band.
8. Doing things well. Whatever it is. Doesn't matter.
9. Hearing favorite songs on the radio.
10. Dressing up for costume parties.

And now I'm bestowing this lovely over to NikosMommy at Fabulous! (Pasta Not Included). Congrats!

And thank you to all my besties!!!

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Opinions... I Need Some.

Essiting news- I'm gonna be featured on a comedic community blog in a few weeks! I mean, it's not like they hand picked me or anything. It's more like you just submit an entry and they tell you when it's going to be posted. But still, I'm essited!

So I submitted my entry back on like day 2 of my blog... aka, when I wasn't very funny. I want to do a switcharoo to up my funny in time for the post and I need your help.

Which blog entry is your favorite??? (Please make sure to limit yourself to one of MY blog entries, thank you.)

In other food news...
Today I grabbed lunch at a new Jersey Mike's that just opened up three weeks ago. When it was my turn at the counter, one of the sandwich doods asked if I usually go to the Westlake store, which I did. He totally remembered me from like the total of five visits I'd had at the other location that had been over a year ago! That's some service!!! To you, sandwich dood, Thank You for making my day.

Also, thank you for not fucking up my order.

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Happy Birthday, America... (there WILL be profanities)

Hope you had a festive and embarrassingly patriotic 4th of July. Here's how mine went...

Keith had a great evening for us planned. We were going to enjoy the fireworks in Long Beach on the Queen Mary aaaaand do a mini ghost hunt, which is something I've been wanting to do like basically all my life. Dreamy? Check. Festive? Check. Entertaining? Check. Except nobody told the city of Long Beach about these great plans of ours.

As soon as we exited the freeway, traffic is backed up because they have three lanes funneled down to one. As each car is taking it's turn merging, this BITCH in a stupid ugly camaro or avenger or something just as stupid refused to let us in even though it was CLEARLY our turn. Keith stayed calm, cool, and collected and proceeded to let her in front to avoid any roid rages. As she slooooowly crept past our car- while doing her full face of firme vato makeup- she was talking 'ish about how she wasn't even about to let any cars in front of her because "all these cars think they can just cut". Escuuuuuuuuse me?!?! Oh haaaaaails no. I told Keith to step on it and not let her in. I could feel my blood boiling like hot lava about to essplode. I yelled "YOUR MAKEUP ISN'T HELPING!", but probably fortunate for my life, my window was almost all the way up and SnowBird didn't hear me. As Keith weighed the options about how much our deductible would be and if it was worth just going for it and hitting her, that bish made her way to the front of the line. I was seething as I stared with a vengence at her classy diamond-framed licence plate. Ughhhhhhh.... this was NOT a good start to the 4th.

As we get closer to the turn for Queen Mary Lane (or whatever), we realize they're making all the cars turn in the opposite direction. It's finally our turn, we pull up next to the Harbor Patrol cop and ask about the QM. He curtly states that parking is full, they're not letting anyone in, and we have to exit the area. W....T....F.... We have no choice and end up on some long road to nowhere in the middle of all the loading docks. We pull up to another harbor patroller and ask him about our nonrefundable, prepaid tickets. He says that's between us and the QM. We ask about shuttles going to the boat. Nope. We ask about taxis going to the boat. Nope. Ughghghghghghg..... Keith thinks it's worth waiting in line one more time to see if we get lucky.

We double back and wait in line- this time flying up the side lane because we know how this works, we've been here before. They turn us away again, but this time Keith think's it's worth flipping around and going in on the new street we're on. After a few minutes we reach another harbor patroller- except this one asks if we have PREPAID TICKETS. It's about time someone asked a relevant question. So, we're nearly there...

Yessssssss! We're so close now! Right after this picture was taken, a guard girl comes up to our window and directs us through the entry to the right. Except there's nobody there to direct traffic, so we pretty much wing it on where to go. Luckily, we end up finding a primo parking spot right next to the elevator! Yessss- it must be our lucky day!

By the time we make it onto the grounds, it was around 6pm. Both of us had to use the restroom after our stressful journey. I'm going to tell it to you like it is, friends... The toilets smelled like bovine colon cancer. And two of the stalls were completely out of toilet paper. Keith and I reconvened in safer territories and decided we'd never speak of that situation again.

After we locked those memories away, we decided to grab dinner. Well, much to my mouth's dismay, the food options consisted of 4 fair-style food shacks with about a hundred people waiting in each line. Keith suggested I go check out the menu so I don't have a meltdown when we get to the front and realize it isn't what I wanted. It was then that I overheard two of these shithole shanties had run out of food and it was going to be 30-45 min till they refilled. Shiiiiiiits.

Keith and I decide to just find an actual restaurant on the boat and get a real meal. I'm feeling queesy by this point because I was actually under the weather, and couple that with all this physical activity sans food.... it was not looking good. We finally found a restaurant on that floating torture chamber... Only to find out there was a 3 hour wait. Oh.My.Lawd. I was about to lose it.

Keith calmed me down and assured me that by this point, the food huts HAD to have restocked. So. We make our way back down through the boat and proceeded to wait in line. Again. The third food line we'd waited in. By this point, I was near hysterical, starving, annoyed, and not at all amused with the shithole job the QM had done to prepare for this whole event.

This goose was anything but spruce. It was 8:30pm by the time we fiiiiiiinally got to the front of the line... we were the LAST people to get food before they ran out for good. I did a quick Hail Mary for delivering the goods and took a big bite out of my tri tip sandwich. And then proceeded to spit it out. My tri tip sandwich was actually a cemetary of fat and grizzle. Thankfully, Keith's pork sandwich was good enough and he managed to eat half of it. But mine was disgusting and unedible and that's when I officially lost it. I cried. Over my shitty tri tip sandwich. I was starving and there was still 20 minutes to go before the fireworks were scheduled to start. And it seemed like the ghost tours were over for the day. Keith was a great sport for not slapping the shat outta me when I decided I'd had enough of this worst-day-ever.

The silver lining on this disasterous cloud was that we at least got to see fireworks going off all around LA on the drive home. That was cool... everywhere we looked, there was another neon bomb exploding in the sky.

Moral of the story: Do not go to the Queen Mary to celebrate the nation's birthday unless you want to be turned away at the gates, starve to death, and catch toilet malaria.

But other than that, we had a good time.

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You're Going Places Award!

Look at that- a Christmas miracle! Someone has given me another award. The first time around I was convinced that one of my internet besties had made an internet error and cut/paste the wrong blog url somewhere. But now that I've received my second award, I'm pretty sure it's just because my blog is off-the-chain magical and gets you VIP service in Hollywood clubs.

Big ups to Island Gal for bestowing upon me the You're Going Places Award. Thank you, thank you, and once again I'd like to thank the academy. And by academy, I mean the mountain of parmesan cheese I ate back on 6/25 that obviously wowed the pants off the masses.

So, the deal with this award is that you have to state where you picture yourself in 10 years. Well, anyone who knows me knows this is actually a hard one because I usually don't even think farther than my next tivo'd episode of Judge Judy. With that said... here's my life forcast...

In ten years, I imagine that I will be paid billions by a creative company who can see past my lack of design degree and hires me because I am rad and bring in baked goods. I will probably have like two kids or something. For sure a daughter (who may or may not be named Moxie Crimefighter)... I MAY be persuaded to birth a son, but don't hold your breathing on that one. I will drive all around town in one of the following badass cars:



I will probably live in the Monsanto House of the Future. In between my career and being beautiful, I will drive my kids to ballet recitals and tennis matches because even though they will only be three and four years old, they are child prodigies.

Plastic surgery will have advanced so much by then, I will have completely morphed myself into Zooey Deschanel.

Or at least more like those cute little ajins that look especially darling with their peace sign fingers (and less like the ajins who sing Whitney Houston songs).


I will definitely still be blogging but I will totally have at least 56 followers by then. I will also still think the original Nintendo was the best thing ever invented.

Now, time to pass the torch... I am sending my blog love and awards over to...

Allison at The Adventures of Kiddo and Ramona
Debs at Fashion Plate
LaceyRee at This Freckled Lemonade
Erin at Blogging is for Dorks

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