W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> Moi, Toi, et VoI: June 2007

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Amuse Bouche.

I have absolutely nothing interesting to report unless you want to hear about a) yada yada re Workers' Comp insurance, b) the chicken corn chowder I made from a box for dinner, or c) my prospects for tonight's Top Chef loser.

In any event, here are two commercials that struck me in the past couple of days.

(Unfortunately I can't seem to put the little youtube video screens in my posts since I switched over to the new blogger, so you'll just have to exercise your pointer finger and click on the links.)

Let's start with the rather depressing one...

And this one...God Bless America!

And now that I think about it, I'll end with a classic...

Monday, June 25, 2007

It's Friday I'm In Love.

I cannot wait for Friday.

Reason #1
We - the Canary people - are celebrating Turkey Boy's 46th Birthday with cake and drinks at Sal's on 12th. TB is so excited about his party it's not even funny. Maybe a little scary. Everyone will be there - Rasputina, The Bassoonist, L'il JoJo and The Ladies' Man, SFG, Dax, Madame Mimolette. Not to mention the Turkey people too. So if you're in the area, stop by and see the legend, the one and only, at 6pm. Be there or be square.

However, even though I'd promised to entertain my turkey friend, I can't stay long because

Reason #2
I'll be in the front row at the Morrissey show at The Mann! Tickets fell from the heavens (well, a friend of Dax is one of those crazy people willing to get up at 4:00 am and take off work in order to purchase front row seats to Morrissey) and I was blessed without any effort on my part at all. It was meant to be.

But I won't be able to stay for the exclusive aftershow party or make out with a roadie because

Reason #3
Molly and I are moving in with SFG! Yes, big news! I am subletting my furnished apartment (shhh!) to The Bassoonist who will stay there til the end of my lease. Me + Cat + toiletries + kitchenware + mass amounts of Canary paperwork is an easier transition for a poor guy who's never shared his space with anyone. Much less a girl. A girl with stuff. Lots of stuff.

In any event, we three are very excited about the forthcoming cohabitation. Molly especially because she will have a fabulous view of the Ben Franklin and her mommy won't be gone every other night anymore leaving her with nothing to do but listen to NPR and track litter on my Ikea rug (one of those nice wool ones with the llama silhouettes on them).

Come on Friday!

Here's me on Friday in my mind.

Parrot for added effect to demonstrate happiness, joviality, and frolicky-ness. And check it out! No buttercream stains on my dress!

Friday, June 22, 2007

Yada Yada Yada.

Ok, back to reality for a post. Leave now if you don't want to hear another post about my divorce. Believe me, I'm bored by it too by now.

I've mentioned ad nauseum about how Mr. X got custody of a large chunk of college friends we had (ok, he got all but 2 and they live in Philly which is an added bonus). Mind you this is regardless of the fact that for the most part we are splitting amicably. And from what I hear, regardless of the fact that Mr. X has come to my defense when said friends have tried to talk me down. OK.

But have I mentioned the fact that I have not heard from Mr. X's parents since the split - which was about a year and a half ago? I just find that odd. We were together for 13 years. 13 years! In the lives of a 32 and 35 year old that's a long friggin' time. We did college together, grad school, first apartment, cats times three, (first marriage), trips to Europe, bought first house...all of those things we did as a pair. During our formative years.

It's not like I cheated on him. Or beat him. Yes, I was the one who left. But that's because I have always been the one to make the move on anything in our relationship. I think we can both acknowledge that a) we've grown from this experience b) we're both responsible for the situation and c) that the 13 years we spent together weren't in vain. We had many good times.

Let me be honest. I have not contacted them. I know it sounds chicken, but I've always felt that the ball is in their court to get in touch with me - as The Parents. It just seemed like the first move ought to have been theirs, not mine, in checking in. It's not a very mature defense on my part, I agree.

In any event, my mother (who has sent Mr. X birthday cards not saying much of anything, just a general acknowledgement of his existence) has suggested that I send them a card. That way the door is open for them to respond. And if they don't. Well then they don't. I don't want to have a relationship with them; I simply want to prove to myself that I in fact still do exist outside of the Center City Philadelphia .

It's weird really.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

I Love Raymond. Period.

I am addicted to Everybody Loves Raymond.

This is one of the funniest shows on television. I know! I know! I rebelled, refused, scoffed, mocked the very thought of watching Raymond until one lonely evening in bed with Molly and my ghetto cable, I was forced to watch an episode (think Clockwork Orange!) (I'm being dramatic! I know! I know!). The only other option was one of those idiotic detailing reality shows on TLC (and y'all know how much I lurve my reality tv, but no way Jose!).

In fact, Molly and I are watching a three hour Raymond marathon right now as I patter away on my laptop and drink Red Bicyclette Syrah. Which is quite lovely I might add.

By the way, what's with Ray and ginger ale?

Need I be concerned about the fact that I have not gotten my period in three months?

No, I am definitely not up the stick.

I'm on the pill which should keep me *ahem* regular. Haven't changed my pill, though I did start taking Wellbutrin XL again about three months ago. I've been on Wellbutrin in the past but never had this problem. I'm not pms-ing either. I'm 32. Peri-menopause?

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Human Resources Don't Fail Me Now.

My people judging skills have failed me again.

It was The New Guy's first day yesterday. All he was asked to do was to deliver the goods safely to a couple of coffeeshops and not to wear an apron into the men's room.

After taking over an hour and a half to do a 45 minute delivery, we get a call from Cafe #1.

"Hi. Umm, we just got our box of brownies and um, they look like a truck ran over them. They're completely smashed. We can't use them at all."

Then Cafe #2 calls.

"Hi? Yeah, umm? like our cupcakes are like umm all crushed? and like the cookies are just a box of like crumbs? "*

Us: "Oh gosh, yeah, sorry. We have a New Guy today and he's just not working out so well."

Cafe #2: "Um. Like apparently?"

When I called The New Guy today to find out exactly what happened - because it's not often that we get a complaint that references tire tracks - he didn't even bother hemming and hawing. All he said was that the bag was heavy!

Me: "But How Did Everything Get Crushed?! They said the entire order was in crumbs?! How did you do that?"

New Guy: "It was just heavy. And I said I was sorry to the girl at Cafe #1. They're lying at Cafe #2!"

Me: "Well you didn't apologize to me and you just cost me $150. You're fired."

Yeah, and then the little turd wore the cute chartreuse retro cat apron Rasputina gave me into the men's room.
I got an email from a 16 year old who was interested in a baking job I had posted on craigslist. When I didn't get back to her after a couple of days, I got an email from her that simply said "So...?"

Please Lord, please protect the Idiots and the Immature and give me the Grace, Wisdom and Patience of a Saint during difficult times. Otherwise a Divine Intervention may be needed. Amen. Thank you JesusHolyMarySt.FrancisMaryMagdalene. Amenagain.

*Punctuation inflection intended to impart a sense of realism into the exchange.

Monday, June 18, 2007

Randome Shite Part Deux.

On Saturday we went to Ardmore with M & I to see The Radiators, a New Orleans jam band that has a following akin to Parrot Heads but with more weed references. Their logo is a stoned fish.

Bonerama was on the billboard as the opening act.

"What the hell is Bonerama?" "Why the hell is Bonerama?" "Bonerama? Really?"

Turns out Bonerama is four trombone players. Ohhhh...I get it now.

Have you ever watched four funk 'bone players close up? It's rather mesmerizing in a dirty sort of way. They get really really into it. Concentrated looks on their faces, slidin' that 'bone back and forth...Then someone said something about stroking the 'bone, which turned into a commentary on the electric 'bone and that was it.

Howard Update: We went to a bbq at SFG's parents' and l'il Howard was there. Much like the cat who picks the one person in the room who is either deathly allergic to or freaked out by felines, Howard picked me to be his playmate for the afternoon. Which actually turned out to be fine. All you really have to do with an 18 month old is toss a ball toward him and make sure he doesn't smack his head into the cement and you're golden.

Friday, June 15, 2007

The Power of Branding.

Wizard World, or Geek Con 07 is taking place right now in Philly. Which means The Circus is seeing a lot of fat, balding pallored men in black t-shirts and/or black jeans and Tevas. They like their red eyes (a shot of espresso in a cup of coffee, dude!) and their walnut brownies so we don't mind them.

SFG thought it would be a brilliant idea to make some video game themed cupcakes to appeal to these distinguished gentlemen. Per SFG's scheme, we made '1 Up' cupcakes - vanilla buttercream with splotches of green buttercream, you know, to look like those little mushrooms Mario would eat/kick/make disappear to win another guy. Get it? 1 up - GET IT?

Well, it turns out The Wizards are more CRPG* types, not straight up video gamers these days, so the Mario nostalgia just didn't work.

Text from Rasputina:
The 1 up thing is causing a lot of confusion. no one gets it. even the wizard peeps arent into it. At all. Perhaps best not to make more tomorrow. Fyi.

I reply:
Try renaming them as Mario Magic Mushroom Cupcakes.

Oh brilliant. might as well call the brownies SPECIAL BROWNIES. u sure about putting the words magic mushroom in the case?

Thank god for the Blackberry! Internets!
I reply:
Actually they are called Super Mushrooms. Make it so. Lemme no when you sell one.

Word. I did sell one. to someone who thought that 1 ups meant a dollar.

*Computer Role Playing Games. Like you didn't know that.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Did I Grow Up on a Different Planet

or has anyone else ever heard of spumoni?

I was experimenting with pistachio paste today and developed a lovely new buttercream with it. Then in my migraine acid trip Aha! moment came up with the *new* Spumoni Cupcake - Chocolate cake stuffed with strawberry preserves frosted with pistachio buttercream (which is a lovely shade of light chartreuse by the way) with a light sprinking of hot pink sugar sparkles.

In any event, none of the zygotes who work for me had ever heard of 'Zamboni' before. In fact "it sounds like a dirty word." Neither had Madame Mimolette. The girls at the Italian cheese shop did though.

I used to love spumoni ice cream as a kid. Not any fancy kind, just the plain old three flavor fruitless/nutless smooth grocery story variety. I liked Neapolitan too, but spumoni was just a tad more exotic.

My migraine has lasted for three days now, so perhaps I am just losing my mind. Perhaps I am making this whole spumoni fantasy up. Just like those creepy Clorox commercials. Am I the only one who finds them creepy?

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Self Portrait.

Courtesy of Design-Her-Gals

Randome Shite.

Ebony/Jet stopped by to interview people at The Canary yesterday. They're doing a tourist show on Philly. When they first told me, it made me a little nervous because The Canary has been accused of being racist before. By morons mostly. If you know the name of my shop, you can see where it might come from.

But really I just like canaries in colonial garb!

The latest craze according to the local news is Infant Potty Training (IPT). If you want your newborn to poop in the toilet, check this out!

Got more scoop about The Uniform Mutiny. Mr. Moody accused the girls of being 'sellouts' for wearing their Canary t-shirts. I love it. Have I mentioned his Uniform? It's a Portishead t-shirt and armband tattoos with play, pause and stop symbols on them.

Monday, June 11, 2007

It's the End of the World as We Know It.

I was watching Rachael Ray this morning (Oh please! Like you don't! I know you do on the sly!) and I was horrified to learn that EVOO has been added to the Oxford American Dictionary.

Then when I googled it, I realized that this occurred in December, but just go with me on this one if this is old news to you. (And you know it is! Because you watch Rachael too!)

But right now on The View, Barbara Walters is telling us about a phone call she got from Paris Hilton last night. She says she realizes she's 26, acting dumb isn't cute anymore, and she's become more spiritual in prison and has found inner peace. She will support breast cancer awareness. She is reading The Secret and The Bible. And her skin is dry because she's not allowed to use face cream in jail. But it doesn't matter because she has changed.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Rants and Raves.

I went to my first Reiki session. It was relaxing, but so is lying on a massage table in a dimly lit room with new age music softly playing in the background. I walked out of there feeling...the same, I guess, but a little sluggish. Don't get me wrong: I am entirely open to alternative medicine of all types. I've done cranio-sacral, believe in Carolyn Myss and my own mother is a practitioner of Chinese medicine. But when I went home and checked out Reiki on wikipedia, which compared it to Laying On Of The Hands, I came to the following conclusion: Reiki is fakey.

Burrata cheese: a mozzarellaish cheese filled with cream wrapped in leek leaves. Good lord!

The turkey stand has gotten new maroon polo shirts. This annoys me because the turkey stand's colors are red and yellow. If you're not going to go with red (the old polos) or yellow shirts, at least go with a color that is nowhere near red. It's just off enough to be irritating and design-unfriendly. The only thing I think of when I look over at them is that the owner is a cheap bastard who bought those damn shirts on sale. Turkey Boy says the maroon is supposed to reflect the cranberry sauce. But of course.

Little Children. Rent it if you like movies about suburban ennui. And that Ken Doll/J. Crew model guy from Hard Candy is in it.

I'm starving.

We're going to Good Dog for burgers. The specialty is a gorgonzola stuffed burger that is supposed to be the best in Philly.

My maimed foot has been killing for days.

I got some Ugg espadrilles. Cute! And relatively comfy.

Thursday, June 07, 2007


Last week I got an email from a woman who found my (oops! still up!) profile on match.com. She was looking for ladies for a friend of her's, who oddly enough, is a Glaswegian scientist with a snarky sense of humor and a sweet tooth.

I wrote back informing her of my unavailability, but we started emailing and discovered that we'd probably get along splendidly because she is also 32, a small business owner and likes booze. So we went on a blind date!

We had a great time. Turns out our similiarities go beyond boozing and biznez; we are both of Eastern Bloc descent, have husbands/boyfriends who are rabid Eagles freaks but don't get into anyothersportsthankgod, and were English majors. And we both say 'f*ckin'' alot, which was nice, because you don't meet a lot of women who say 'f*ckin'' a lot and I find that oddly refreshing. Oh yeah, and we both lived in Boston for a spell and hated it but we both love Vermont.

Tomorrow SFG and I are going to a poker party at her house. I think it'll be fun. And the Glaswegian will be there.

Definitely makes for a good story.

Oh my! I failed to mention what a fabulous time I had with Guinness Girl, Christine and Madame Mimolette* at the slumber party this past weekend. I shudder to think about the amount of drink we consumed, but damn! Balderdash was f*ckin' fun! XXOO girls!

*In past posts has been referred to as Cheesewench, but Guinness Girl calls her by her real name and Christine used her initial so what the hell am I even making up a nic for her anyway?

Monday, June 04, 2007

Canary Drama, Part 643.


Last week I put up the monthly Canary Memo for my staff. We've had a lot of luck selling t-shirts with the Canary logo on it, so one of the points in the memo was that everyone wear their Canary shirts for their shift; if they didn't have a shirt, or if their shirt was dirty, then they were to wear one from the pile of spares that I was planning on bringing in next week. I hadn't even started the enforcement of this new rule when this evening I get a text message from one of my whipping boys, who was a really great worker but has serious issues with keeping his mood in check, saying

I read the June Memo. Since I do not wear uniforms I cannot comply. Tomorrow will be my last day. Thanks.

After the (not even anymore) shock at the audacity and suddenness of this, I texted back

Today was your last day. Thanks.

And it actually felt good to take charge like that. It wasn't bitchy, it was just to-the-point-no-dicking-around-you're-not-going-to-goad-me-I'm-

Instead of fuming, I immediately emailed my other boys and asked them if they wanted Mr. Moody's shifts.

And it's all good.

So I spoke to my therapist about the Howard Issue. She suggested that SFG and I take him out ourselves for a couple of hours so I don't feel so self-conscious about playing with him. She also assured me that no one is watching me with him; they're all watching him. It's still a hard feeling to shake, but I think her idea is great. Will keep you posted.

Must See TV.

Next time on Dr. Phil: The Dr. Phil House: The House of Hatred.

- A white supremacist.
- A black woman who hates white people.
- A 600 lb man who hates skinny people.
- A skinny woman who hates fat people.
- A straight guy who hates gay people.
- A lesbian who hates straight people.

Woot woot!