W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> Moi, Toi, et VoI: August 2006

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Har Gjoordjke aaf van Slichten!


Kjors, een eer grechtspaal ja bloomberg!

Eich aards veerslap wankelwinkel vjon kaarsteid. Ujereet shmal spleetrech, samsse regrachtoslon. Mjin affel et katzenhuis een eer samblemeubleriy (Ik jusreeken smallsteep van Juhenheusen. Ka schlotengameerer!??!?!?! Ha Ha Ha!).

Breekj fluegoivel hans sneederveeden. Oversteppen is niet kaablen.


Nazoor vordeel grote perzeiken. Gaap. Shelgshein. Her.

Auft greepneek dar fargel Glaswegian zeetgreizen flugelshoort! Der Nederlands ver een eek sleigelhofel, jar grupschtupflag vein - van der ejeft ein small wagel. Briegheffer glaaskev bregnel van haaven. Jans govsnaar eich klienstroop.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Rude Dwarf Cake.

Wonder how many technorati hits that will catch.


I found this coat on the Kalverstraat today. It's a rare thing when you love a coat so much it makes you want to weep.

I Am Amsterdam.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Best Day Ever.

Got up at 10 am to homemade breakfast of Dutch pancakes (thin!) and bacon. Walked over to Kandinsky, followed by an impromptu visit to the Rijksmuseum to see All of Rembrandt's Paintings. At One Time. Ever. How could I pass up the opportunity? Surely I'd be kicking myself on my deathbed. It was kind of cool actually - all of his paintings lined up chronologically. The dude painted quite a bit.


that Rembrandt also painted some erotica as well? Indeed! It's always those religious types...

By 2:00 walked over to the Rokerij, had a latte like the civilized woman that I am and then decided to hunt for a nice little cafe for a light lunch bite. So I meandered into a nice cozy looking cafe and took a seat...

...and then I remembered that 'cafe' means bar; it's 'cafe restaurant' that I should have looked for. But I decided to just go with it and ended up having a bottle of Duvel and a piece of homemade apple pie for lunch.

Then started to make my way back home. Ducked in and out of cute shops all day. Bought some chocolate at a patisserie and now I'm back on my bed eating bon bons and watching Madame Bovary.

Monday, August 28, 2006

Lost in Translation: Tweede Helmersstraat.

Fifty Euros and a hunk of Gouda to anyone who can tell me what this means.

Thursday, August 24, 2006

Shameless Advertisement.

So, you know how I said I wasn't going to mention much about SFG?

So. Yeah.

Midnight Make-out Session last night.

Woo hoo!


Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Out of Practice.

I feel like it's been a decade since the last post. I'm really getting out of the habit of writing every night lately, which is bad, not only for The Blog, but for my actual paid professional writing responsibilities. My editor at NASCARFoodie.com is ready to throttle me, I'm sure. Opening a business and getting a divorce only carry so much weight so far.

I need some serious inspiration for NASCARFoodie. It was scones last week. Only because I had scones on the brain. This week all I have on the brain is getting on a plane. I can't write about airplane food. Well, maybe business class airplane food.

Never mind.

So. Hmm...let's play catch-up. What have I been doing other than sleeping, eating Combos, going on dates and getting my car impounded? Hmm...not much.

So. SFG. Good date. No deets for the public on this one yet. Hang tight. We're going out on Friday. More on that later.

So. Car impounded yesterday. Yeah. Funny thing about that: I peeled out of the loading dock at The Circus a little too quickly yesterday and cut off a couple of curmudgeonly cops on the sidewalk who proceeded to give me a $116 ticket for careless driving* and then when they ran my plates they saw that MR. X FORGOT TO REREGISTER THE CAR SO THEY TOWED IT AWAY AND TOOK IT TO 'LOT 1' BEHIND THE IKEA ON DELAWARE AVENUE.

So. While I'm at traffic court going through the rigmarole of The System to show them my temporary Internet registration (which for the record took all but 15 seconds to complete), waiting in line, going before the judge, waiting in line, going to Window #9, waiting in line, getting into a cab to take me to Lot #1, where they almost don't release to car to me because the title isn't in my name, Mr. X is DRINKING BUBBLE TEA AND PLAYING VIDEO GAMES IN TOKYO.

Dude soooo owes me that $185 dollars to get the f-cker out of hock.
BUT! Must end on a good note: Last night was the Unofficial Unauthorized BlogHer Delaware Valley Division meetup at PdG with Christine and Guinness Girl. Welcome Christine, to our lair. We hope you found it to your liking. (Umm, GG - pix, please?)

*For the record, word of my pullover got around The Circus and someone there told me he saw 6 other people pulled over in a 2 block vicinity of The Circus that morning. WTF? Quotas? Philly doesn't do quotas? Everything's most def on the up and up in this faire citye.

Monday, August 21, 2006

The Best Part of Waking Up

to a golf ball sized charley horse in your left calf is you didn't need to spend the 37 minutes attempting to set your Zen Alarm Clock.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

Too Wiped Out For A Good Title: Brawny Academy.

Arlighty folks. I found this fascinating...a crazy convergence of pop culture, sociology, gender psychology and marketing? Is it just me?

Warning: The video is about 10 minutes long but seriously - it's mesmerizing if you think about the theories that went into making this snippet of [?] entertainment/mind control. I feel rather manipulated...rather dirty, sullied, soiled in fact. Like I ought to wipe myself down with...a paper towel...hmmmm...

For Non-US Readers: Brawny refers to Brawny paper towels, a paper towel that features a 'brawny [American] man' in a plaid shirt. He sported a moustache until about 1 year ago when the marketing trolls went out to middle America to find the Average Brawny Man. Who apparently is now a Real Guy. Who plays the bugle.


Thursday, August 17, 2006

70 to Zero in Seconds.

OMG. Rasputina and I are going to be separated for three long weeks between her 'vacation' and my European divorceymoon starting next week. We've been working side by side 70+ hours weekly - not including the detox evenings at the Sidecar, Jones and our homes doing Project Runway/g&t soirees. How can I live without you for THREE WHOLE WEEKS, Ras? HOW?

And the saddest part is that The Canary will be celebrating its 10,000th Cupcake Sold sometime next week. And I'll have to get plastered without you, kiddo. How sad. How very very sad. We will celebrate in style after I get back. In September. (September?! September?!!!)

AND I've got a cocktail-date with SFG on Sunday (whose emails continue to make me laugh out loud) at an undisclosed location (to avoid stalkers and paparazzi). And nobody to text about it! Terrible! A Travesty! What's a girl to do?

I'm very sad this evening. Very sad indeed.

But on a Good Note (because things always must end on a good note...) The Canary made Daily Candy! Woo hoo!

Single Women of the World Unite.

Red has started a new blog about the Plight of Single Women Everywhere. I'm honored to be in such awesome blogger company with the fabulousness that is Red, Stefanie and Miss Peach. Check it out, ladies. I'm sure you can relate.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Off The Grid.

Oy, it's good to be back.

I've been off the grid since Friday when Mama Vey came into town until I put her on a plane back to Chicago today.

To say this weekend was hell wouldn't be exactly right. And slightly unfair. But damn, it was draining.

In order to avoid the following topics of conversation

1) "...you really should wear support hose because..."
2) " ...you know, your step-sister is still dating that priest...after seven years for chrissakes!...they need to shit or get off the pot..."
3) "...and what exactly did Mr. X do to deserve your walking out on him? Exactly?..."

we did the following:

Reading Terminal, Shouk, Benjamin Lovell, DiBruno Brothers, Eastern State Penitentiary, Benjamin Lovell, Mutter Museum, Blue Mercury, City Tavern, Benjamin Lovell, Miel, Mama Palma's, and Tria ("Let me tell you exactly. What. Mr. X. Did...").

And for penance I spent the morning getting a Brazilian bikini wax at The Body Klinic (GG, is this where you went?) by a woman named Tatayana. Who is from Kazakhstan (a tidbit of info I absolutely love) (and it's been a loooong time since the last one believe you me.) . And I spent the better part of the evening at The Sidecar chatting with a Liverpudlian ("A posh 'scourse' 'scourt'?? Not sure if I got that word right....???)

OK. No writing any articles about scones tonight, which is what I promised meself. Absolutely not going to happen given the three sidecars I had on Sidecar A's dime, the bastard.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Whinge, Whinge, Whinge...

Even though I've got a million things to do before I take leave of this wretched metropolis, I went to book club tonight for a book that I didn't even read.

Yes people. I've been lying for the past four weeks about reading that Bruce Hornsby book. I've read about 30 pages of it. No time. Just no fuckin' time. When I come home in the evening all I want to do is read the blogs, the DirecTV channel guide and perhaps the back of the Laphroaig bottle if I'm feeling wordy and ambitious. But other than that, I've got absolutely no energy to spend on anything remotely thoughtful.

Besides, the book club quickly got caught up in a riotous game of quizzo at the Sidecar, so it didn't really matter that I didn't read it anyhoo. But that's not the point I guess.

I really need to be working on my books, or an article, or my menu, or recipes when I get home. But I'm just plum tuckered out these days. When I sleep, I dream of scones.

A million things on my list to do before heading off to the Motherland....got hair cut today (finally), check!, got that Apple world adapter plug thingy set (thanks for the tip, S! Go Mac!!!) check!, slowly but surely breaking in those bastard shoes, check!, ordered the printed Canary bags that will take four months to make (just in time for the holidays!), blagh blagh blagh. Check! check! check!

I've decided not to buy any more clothes until I get to the H&M, Sacha and Mag stores in Amsterdam and stock up there. I'll have plenty of time to de/tox, shop, read and write, and shop before hopping over to Glasgow for a Raucous Girly Adventure.

I'm going to stop blathering now. But I promise I'll read the book on the plane. I swear it. If not on the plane (because I may be reading my Ambien Rx bottle), then in Vondelpark.

And speaking of whinging, I'd just like to express my sympathy to whingingit.com which has been put to rest, but wish Beth the very best of luck on her writing endeavors! Keep us posted. And when you become famous, think of the little blogspot people! I'm going to keep your link up for while to pay homage. Much like they did with the World News Tonight with Peter Jennings intro at the beginning of the show for the first week or so after he died. xx.

Monday, August 07, 2006

The Shoe Whisperer.

Breaking in a pair of shoes is like breaking in a wild steed. You spy the steed. You know, that gorgeous beast who's looking back at you daring you to tame it. Daring you to become its master. One of you is going to win the battle. And hopefully it will be you. But that's not to say it doesn't require patience, perseverance and an unusually high pain threshold. But if it's a cute shoe...

I bought these shoes yesterday after a Shiatsu treatment by Rasputina (thanks! I feel so...metal today!) to wear on my trip. Something sporty and cazjh, without being too sporty and cazjh. I'd post a picture of my actual feet in the actual shoes, but my clompers are so mangled right now I couldn't get them on if I tried.

I decided to wear them to work today. A 20 minute walk should be enough the first time in. By the time I was at the Whisky Dunkin Donuts, however, I was in agony.

But it was going to be okay. It was just a matter of moving past the pain. Move. Past. The. Pain. By the time I got to the Canary, my heels were meaty, bloody stumps. But I made it to work. So I put the shoes back in the coral for the day and slipped on my Super Birkis.

I decided I needed some reinforcement for the walk back so I bought those most excellent l'ampoule rubber plaster-thingies that supposedly stay on for four days. I think my mistake was that I bought the CVS variety.

Score one for The Wild Merrells.

The way home was bloody hell. Almost literally but not quite. By the time I got to 13th & Chestnut I was practically hobbling. You bloody bastards, you. But you were not going to win. Goddammit.

On the walk home I thought of Treblinka. I'm really not being snarky here. I thought to myself 'Shut up, Oy Vey. Stop complaining. What do you have to complain about? You're walking 10 bloody blocks and then you get to take off these evil beings and sit on your couch and watch Hell's Kitchen...what about those poor people in Treblinka? They didn't have nice shoes. Or those guys in Touching the Void. You think they whinged about ses ampoules as they hung by their bungees in the Crevasse of Death? Are you kidding me?'

I also thought of ANTM and how those poor girls sometimes have to wear three-inch heels three sizes too small down a runway watched by millions of people. I mean, geez, that's pressure.

By the time I got to Broad and Chestnut I'd managed to maneuver my hobble into a quasi-hip-swinging-canter until I got home. You'd only really notice the slight limp if you were really paying attention.

And when I stepped into the shower to hose the experimental scone off of my body...
ohmygodjesusmaryandjosephholymarymotherofgodprayforussinners (breathe!) thepowerandgloryforeverandeveramen...when the water hit my heels...I went to a place deep inside myself and screamed.

Yesterday I wore my Ebay.fr polka dotted mules to Trader Joe's for a little breaking in. By the time I got to the Mutter Museum, my feet were ready to be pickled for an exhibit.

But dammit. I will win. Wills will be bent. Soles will be broken...um...arches will continue roamin'? Umm...

Stupid T-Shirt Sighting of the Day: Pimpercrombie & Bitch.

Sunday, August 06, 2006


A couple of days ago one of The Canary's rival bakeries, Titep Rouf, 'closed for renovation' through Labor Day. But the scuttlebutt is that the joint is kaput. Three bakers came looking for new jobs because they're sure that the renovation is a ruse. I've heard whispers of dissatisfaction from restaurant people about Titep Rouf, but I had no idea that whatever was going on over there was that bad.

And now apparently no one can get a decent scone anymore. My wholesale clients called me about making scones. Rasputina and I have decided to take on the City's Biscuit Deficit on our own. Right now. Just the two of us.

Anyone got a fantastic scone recipe out there? I'm not in love with any of the recipes that I've tried, though, the King Arthur Cookbook has a great section on scones that gives a lot of technique info.

Can anyone throw a girl a scone?

(R, I can't help but ponder our sanity...hmmm....we could be insane at this point and not even know it.)

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Wing & A Prayer.

Rasputina and I are in this on our own. The Canary that is. Replacement Baker for Baker #2 (which I guess makes him Baker #3 (although we have a baker on Saturdays and she really should get third in line to the throne, but her part-time status blurs the line of succession.) Anyway.) decided to not show up for work last Thursday. So I fired him via text message.

So we decided that we were just going to do The Canary on our own using reliable pinchhitters until after both of us gets back from our vacations after Labor Day. It just makes more sense to have to rely solely on ourselves at this point rather than turn over any responsibility on someone who a) does not know what they're doing, b) is potentially unreliable, or c) is psychotic/depressed/drunk/drugriddled/busy/lazy/crazy...

After this work-like-dogs stint, we both just might turn out to be the ones who become psychotic/depressed/drunk/drugriddled/busy/lazy/crazy over the course of the next four weeks.

Enh, we'll be fine. Tired but fine. Why? Because Mr. Rasputina IS A GIFT FROM GOD.

Mr. R. worked all day today at The Canary. On his day off. He cleaned every surface in the whole shop. Twice. Thrice if it's a surface that the public can touch. And then....and then he says "Can I clean your floor drains?" as if he was asking if he could pet my puppy or kiss my Canary Diamond. My response: "Oh my god! Only if you. really. want to. really."

"This drain is worse than City Tavern's drain."

Mr. R., you deserve much much more than the meager wage and the hefty bag of Combos I bestowed on you. Thank you.

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

"He better not be gross".

- Rasputina on new Match.com guy!

Wow. Someone normal wrote to me. And he's smart and funny as all hell. I heretofore christen him Smart Funny Guy (SFG) for the time being!

Apparently he liked my tag line: Snarky Cupcake Wench Seeks Tolerant Soul.

We've exchanged several emails over the course of the past couple of days. I woke up at 6 this morning and there was a message from him and I swear to you I was laughing out loud. At 6 A.M.!

I told him in my first message that Rasputina, my baker, screened all Match messages. So he wrote to both of us. Rasputina has determined that she's 'half in love with this guy already'. He's been approved by everyone I've sent his data to...So far so good with SFG. We. Will. See.

Back to the Future Moment: OK, so if perchance there's something to this, then eventually SFG would be given The URL to the Blog. Fear not: a three-snog minimum is required for access into the internal workings of Oy Vey. But shite, wouldn't it be cute if SFG read this? And saw that his nick was SFG (which I'm sure would be changed by that time anyway...). Fear fear not, people: I'm not getting my hopes up. Too much or anything. But hell, if he does get to read this, then things are good, and if he never does, then no loss for a wee bit of honesty, right?

So, plans: he's on vacation for the next two weeks. Then We. Will. See....Stay tuned. OK, off to finally get to reading that Bruce Hornsby book I've claimed to have been reading for the past month....

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Turkey Boy Update.

So, did I mention that Turkey Boy's been rehired?


Yesterday he stopped by The Canary for his daily harassment session with me. He was watching me whisk some chocolate buttercream together. After looking at my boobs for five seconds, and then watching me whisk for five seconds he says, "My, you've got great technique."

I told him to fuck off. Nicely of course.

After all, the poor bastard admitted that he eats turkey every night for dinner and I can only presume everyday for lunch too because he's surrounded by turkey 12 hours a day. Wouldn't that make anyone a little nutty?