Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Don't Hate Me Because I Am Going To Be On Cable TV.
Food Network called and they have scheduled taping of my segment on May 21. At Canary I. Holy crap.
Canary 1 Louis Vuitton ZERO. Fooshizzle!
Sunday, March 28, 2010
It Is So Not The Sincerest Form of Flattery, Are You Kidding Me?
We moved our junk over to the house. Yay! SFG has taken some serious ass initiative and started unpacking, painting trim, and even cleaning out the backyard of the abandoned PHA house two doors down. He surely feels way more accomplished than I. I feel accomplished that I haven't thrown up.
Speaking of vomit, those bastards down the street have yet again blatantly ripped off The Canary. This time by selling the same exact three cookies that we sell. W.T.F. is that? I will be the first person to admit that those particular cookies are common type American cookies, but the fact remains that they are the same exact three cookies that we sell. And they are exactly three blocks away from Canary I and Canary II. It's just seriously annoying that they are so uninspired and so incredibly lame that they feel compelled to sell the same exact three cookies that we sell. And that we have been selling since 2006. I mean, if you're going to copy us, at least do it with a modicum of stealthiness; don't launch your cookie trifecta out on Facebook in one fell swoop! Like people won't notice? Like they won't see the desperation and sweat on your brow? I just don't get it. At least throw some dried cherries or macadamia nuts in them to give them your own Louis Vuitton flare*, for chrissake.
Ok, that rant just used up all the energy I had left, so I am signing out until this beast goes away or my head falls off.
*They call themselves the [insert high end iconic French designer label here] of cupcakes. Oh please, girlfriend.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
They Really Didn't Want to Go There.
Now, Martha I can handle ripping me off. There is something slightly flattering here about the Queen of Tarts deciding something you've created is good enough to rip-off.
But this new cupcake shop, well, they have no shame. And they have no skills either. All of their cupcakes are covered in fondant, are minimum $4 a piece and look like a home baker went nutso on the Wilton decorating catalog. Long story short, I think their stuff looks amateurish and lame, and considering what they spent on that chandelier and those Victoria Secret-cupcake cases, you'd think they'd have a better sense of chicness when it comes to they way the cupcakes actually look. Ah well, comeuppance will surely come, in some form or fashion. And not necessarily by me.
(I think I might have mentioned how someone hacked their Twitter account and Tweeted porn? Oh, I can't get enough.)
In any event, The Canary is now offering two kinds of Baloney Sandwich Cupcake. Check our tweets for more info.... Small children shouldn't play in the sandbox with the big boys. Heh heh.
*Of course, it's not really the Baloney Sandwich Cupcake, but I'm trying desperately to be anonymous here and if I told you the real name of the cupcake you could reverse-google me and find out everything about me and stalk me and find my door unlocked and kill my dog.
Monday, March 15, 2010
I'm Not Expecting to Grow Flowers in the Desert, But I Can Look and Breathe and See the Sun in Wintertime.
Oh yeah, I won't be able to pick up my iPhone TOMORROW because of the goddamn City of Filthadelphia and their completely outrageous potholes, which have, for the third time in five years, ripped the oil pan off the chassis of the Jetta. Absolutely inexcusable. Close your libraries! Close your public pools! But fix the freaking 2 foot deep potholes that scatter Center City like the wholes in the damn budget! Goddamn! Dammit! Thank the gods for AAA, is all I can say, or someone would be getting a black eye.
Did I mention I made one of my bakers cry this morning? Please- I am a very easy going boss, a natural teacher, but if you act lazy or stupid, and you are not, in fact, either, I will be hard on you. If I get on you that means I like you.
Poor Baker, who is young, and tries hard to please, and is smart and funny and wonderful generally, has been a wee bit lazy of late. She forgot to order some essentials for this morning and basically made a pan of brownies unusable.
"Don't make me come in here on Sundays or I will be really cranky!"
So I made my banana bread cupcakes and announced my departure.
The poor thing volunteered to pay for the brownies she fucked up. Tears welling up in her eyes.
I almost welled up at the point. I also wanted to laugh - not at her - but because I wasn't as mad as the poor dear thought I was. I guess I am scary because I am the boss and I am old.
"Well, stop crying. It's not a big deal. You won't do it again, right?'
Shakes her head.
"Well, that's what's important then."
Poor poor thing. I am such a witch.
Did I mention that the buyer of SFG's condo is having a snafu with her mortgage? UH OH. I am trying not to panic. In fact, for a change, I am being the rational one: I'm sure she just didn't get her shit in on time, no worries, just pester her for the pro rated difference with the closing date change. She is a lawyer, after all, and every lawyer I worked with was a procrastinator. Really, I'm sure it is just a hiccup.
It better be a hiccup or I will vomit.
Meanwhile, we are painting the living room at the new place...The mess is starting to get to me...
and more mess....mess....I am, by nature, not a neat freak, but geez Louise...
...Even Ernie's pissed off at this point...
Please don't call Animal Control. We'll get it cleaned up. Soooooooon. There is a light at the end of the tunnel.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
I'm a total sucker for stuff that smells. In fact, on Sunday, I sneaked out of the Flower Show to CVS and sniffed the shower gels for 15 minutes just to detox. It was a lovely, much needed respite from the throngs.
(I like this word, throngs.)
However, I'm sorry, but the Special Edition Bic Soleil Razors with Scented Mango Papaya Handles? Really? I don't understand the appeal here. Are you supposed to sniff them while you are shaving? Between strokes? I don't capische this. Someone explain.
(Yes, I did buy them.)
I was passing someone at The Circus today, and he said "Pardon me, white girl."
Someone came up to the Canary counter and asked if this was the Amish bakery.
I think I have developed Blackberry thumbitis. My thumbs click painfully constantly now. This is not good. I need my Blackberry and I need my thumbs. Perhaps switching to the iPhone will remedy the issue.
Check out the fascinator I ordered from etsy for the wedding!
Friday, March 05, 2010
....Dreams Stay With You....Like A Lover's Voice...'Cross the Mountain Side....
If you perused my Facebook page today, you will see that I have the Chinese national anthem stuck in my head. I can explain this. It all started with In A Big Country, which I admit I listen to more than I should on the old private iPod, and there's a certain bagpipe riff that sounds like one particularly catchy line from the Chinese national anthem. No, no, not from the Olympics do I know this, but rather from a lighter with Mao's picture did I purchase in Shanghai that plays that freaking song every time you open it did I catch this catchiness....and it just morphed from Big Country to whomever that genius was that developed that catchiness...anyway...please help me, because I am stuck in Scotch-Chino purgatory and I can't get out! HALP!
Maybe I am particularly crazy because we are at the tail-end of The Flower Show. FS is THE convention at The Circus. It is the largest convention that comes to Philly by far (and the largest indoor flower convention in the world, for what it's worth). All this means eight days of middle-aged Mainline women asking for "just plain tea" and their brownies cut in four- all day long. Cat sweater/turtleneck combos like.you.have.never.seen. Imagine the toll this takes on my people, my friends.
I have to say, however, that the crazy quotient hasn't been as high as past years. The worst was (and we are keeping a list, mind you) a woman who was flossing her teeth while ordering cupcakes. This is petty, almost unmentionable shit compared to some of the daily dealings with the bus stop psychotics with which we deal. Nothin'. Small potatoes, ladies. Bring it on, Flossie! Just Purell before you hand me your two-dollar bill, k?
In any event, I am damn tired. These women are needy and exhausting. The constant flux of people- and having to explain- over and over again- what is a San Francisco brownie* Or what is my favorite cupcake. Or when was that pot of coffee brewed. Or do I have a salt packet. Or soy sauce. Or where can one get baklava. Or do I have ice. Or soy sauce. Or a spoon. Or what kind of pizza am I cutting. Or where are the napkins. Or can one get a wet cloth with which to wipe the counter. Or weren't we on FoodTv, no they are sure we were. Or what kind of cupcakes do we have. Or what is the lavender cupcake like.
Lord, please grant me the serenity not to punch someone in the face. Because I am making a boatload of money right now. And punching someone in the face probably wouldn't make me more money.
Please god, I beg you, never let me grow mom-hair or pleated, tapered chinos.
I swear no one in Sweden wears pleated, tapered chinos. They must be illegal there. Or at least so socially frowned upon, no one has the desire and everyone is esthetically responsible and shops at H&M. Maybe I will retire in Sweden.
*People clearly do not have the desire to read signs.