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Food Hangover.

So this weekend, I've celebrated my birthday and Memorial Day (not the same day, mind you, but close enough together to warrant continued binge eating) with:

• Breakfast at McDonald's
• A cheeseburger basket with premium onion ring upgrade and frozen custard at Culver's
• Cupcakes for breakfast
• Sugar cookies with enough frosting to spackle a screw hole in a wall

And the piece de resistance: dinner last night. I cooked rib-eyes with homemade red wine butter, Roquefort cheese potato gratin and a green bean pistou (like pesto) salad with peanut butter pie for desert. It goes without saying that I'm spending the day in elastic waist pants.

That being said, I'm going to journey back to the clean(ish) eating path and commit myself to cooking normal foods at home this week.

This is what I'm going to attempt to cook for the week:

• Monday: Grilled Chicken with left over pistou, angel hair and broccoli
• Tuesday: Turkey Chilli (uber lean ground turkey, my beloved Bush's chilli magic and tomatoes)
• Wednesday: Teriyaki grilled chicken with brown rice
• Thursday: Veggie patties w/ veggies TBD
• Friday: DiGorno's Ultimate pizza n' salad

Hero of the Day

Dear Minivan Driver from Iowa,
Last night, upon arriving at the Allstate Arena for the Police concert, a parking lot attendant asked us to pull up directly to your bumper. We did as instructed and made our way into the hall for the show relieved that we had managed a space so close to the exit!

Imagine our horror when, upon leaving two songs into the encore in an effort to beat traffic, we found ourselves trapped. You, Minivan Driver, were still parked before us but now there were two cars behind ours (a Honda Element and an Accord). Angry at being unable to leave, forced into competing with the masses when the concert ended, we sat in the car and waited.

A mere 5 minutes later you arrived! We cheered appreciatively, applauding your arrival and you flashed a thumbs up. You quickly got into your car and the two of us sped away into the night.

So today I thank you, Mr. Minivan Driver from Iowa. You are my hero. I suspect if you hadn't arrived when you did, we may still be at the arena exit, patiently waiting our turn.

Lesson Learned: Read the price tag before you get to the register

Dennis recently had a death in his extended, extended family (his cousin’s father-in-law passed away) and because I’m Queen of the Greeting Cards, his mother asked if I could send along a note of condolence.

No problem, says me. Of course, this particular cousin is a woman of considerable taste – although very warm and perfectly grounded, she’s always impeccably turned out. I’m thinking that I should probably hit Papyrus, the mini-chain of swanky stationery stores for something more appropriate than what I picked up at Super Wal-Mart on Saturday.

The selection was characteristically tasteful and I decided on something with raised lilies, little beads, etc. I get to the cash register and the card was eight fucking dollars! EIGHT DOLLARS! I’m greeting card obsessed, but come on – that’s two Dominoes Pizzas.

I just sort of stood there, weighing the pros and cons. In the end I was so mortified at the prospect of seeming like the cheap bastard who didn’t care enough to send a nice sympathy card that I paid the $8. Like a total sucker.

A wha wha hua, a wha wha wha hua

Hey hey it's been so long since I have written with pen
Ya know its sharper than a sabre, I don't feel like Errol Flynn
- Dramarama, "Last Cigarette"

Where to even begin. I feel like I write that a lot these days, apologizing for slacking off and not updating my blog in the timely fashion my two readers are accustomed to. It’s unfortunate really because I actually do enjoy rambling on about the miscellany that makes up my life, everything from finally breaking down and buying a container of Folger’s to the innate joy I get from putting things in baskets.

First and foremost I’ve changed jobs, still at the same dot.com but back to the marketing department. As I mentioned to Dennis this morning, I’m in the 2% of the population who actually enjoys working in Microsoft PowerPoint (he feels it’s more like .5%) so it’s a pleasure for me to get back to what I actually love doing. The new job comes with a Blackberry – about which I have mixed feelings, but at least they got me a nice one – and an assload of “getting to know you” travel. With two upcoming weddings in Boston, I’m going to be making 7 trips in about 9 weeks the highlight of which is undoubtedly a trip which will include shrimp and crab at Chickie’s & Pete’s with Kathy.

Also of interest is that my plans of moving to idyllic suburbia have been temporarily thwarted by the craptastic real estate market. If we sold @ the suggested price we’d be upside down, albeit not by a lot. Yay realtor’s commission! Everyone says that selling a house on your own isn’t a huge deal and while I’m tempted by the idea of keeping all that money myself I don’t know if I can bring myself to vacuum and change the litter box daily. God bless Dennis for putting up with me while I stomp around the condo, bemoaning city living.

What else. I’m not running although I should be (and plan to start again). I’m worried that my hair – which looked cute when the hair dresser did it – looks mushroomy. I also have seemingly conquered my dress phobia. Oh, and I’m now addicted to rice pudding.