25 December 2010

Of Leopard Print and Rats

Way back at the dawn of time, or perhaps early October, I visited a wedding gown salon in Tarzana colloquially known as Lili Bridal. While I ultimately ended up getting my dress elsewhere, my majestic mom and bouncy bridesmaids will be ordering their delightful dresses there come early January. Why am I only mentioning this pertinent information now? Well, last weekend my only in-town bridesmaid decided to ruin all of my plans and get sent on an involuntary business trip over the weekend she is supposed to be ordering a dress. Aside from being very inconvenient, it meant that we spent last Saturday getting her measured so I can order all three dresses at once. Stupid dye lots. But anyway, being at the store reminded me how amazing the staff is, even knowing that my dress is coming from a different store, so I've decided to tell the world about my first visit.

Per my personal requirements, I arrived around ten minutes early for my eleven o'clock appointment. As I neared the shop door, I was greeted by what could only be part of a tv crew. Uh, okay. I peered through the glass door and saw three females, perhaps early 20s, giggling over bridesmaids' dresses while two cameras looked on. Seriously? And more importantly, why on earth is one of them wearing a leopard print overalls type thing?

A lady saw me peering in the window and opened the door to ask if I had an appointment. Upon hearing that I did, she informed me that the reality show was supposed to finish for the day at eleven and that she would inform them that their time was up. I mentioned that I did not want to be immortalized on some Lifetime show and chose to wait outside. Sure enough, the crew and "stars" paraded out a few minutes later. Honestly, I wasn't expecting them to leave so quickly. What I was expecting even less was two rodentia in what looked like my neighbors bird cage. Okaaaayyy.

My curiosity got the best of me and I asked what the overgrown gerbils were for. For the record, I phrased my question much more politely.

"They're our rats. They're famous."

Well that cleared everything up.

Later on, I found out that they were shooting something for "Lory and Dean," which, I must confess, was about as useful to me as was the rat description. It all fell together as I left the store and saw a tall woman with short blonde hair. "Wow, she looks likes an aged Tori Spelling wearing way too much makeup," I thought to myself. As I passed by her and her minions, it dawned on me - "TORI and Dean."

The intartubes later confirmed my suspicions, which could mean only one thing - the lady managing the shop kicked out Tori Spelling's reality show for me! Take that subspace!

18 December 2010

There's no such thing as a free lunch

One of the best things about my job is the free food. Not just instant mashed potatoes and bags of cheesy poofs, but delicious gourmet cooking everyday. And if you don't believe me, just ask my mom about toasted almonds.

Last week I grabbed chicken for lunch on my way to a meeting. About an hour later, Matt stopped by for a free lunch to say hi. I mentioned that I had the chicken, which prompted him to look at me as though my nose had retracted and come out the other side of my head. While I confirmed that my nose hadn't gone walkabout, he pointed out that it reeked of bacon.

"No, it's chicken. It says chicken. And the first ingredient is... bacon!. WTF?!"

"How could you not have smelled it?"

"My nose is still stuffed. Stupid useless nose."

Well, that sucked, but at least I learned my lesson - always read the ingredient lists.

Fast forward a week, and I found myself staring at a glorious pile of ice cream sandwiches.

one unit of Glorious Pile

Being the patient and practical being that I am, it seemed perfectly natural to have one before even considering the standard entrees. After all, ice cream sandwiches is a subset of sandwiches, and sandwiches are perfectly reasonable lunches. Not liking chocolate, I chose the snickerdoodle one. Everything was going splendidly until one of the food workers asked me if I liked the bacon ice cream.

Cooking chicken in bacon fat is one thing, but bacon ice cream? Who on earth expects little piggy particles in their desserts? The loons over at Coolhaus, that's who. Lesson double plus learned.

how not to make an ice cream sandwich

Later on I found out that the candied bacon bits were very obvious in texture and taste, so I managed to eat the part of the sandwich without my current arch nemesis. As a side note, since when did people candy bacon? Eww.

08 December 2010

Victory is Mine!

Months and months ago, Zero and I dressed up as Futurama characters for Halloween. I was Turanga Leela, and Zero was Nibbler. He was a good sport while I made his costume, so I promised him steak if he won the dog costume contest at work. The competition was fierce, but he beat his sole competitor, Poppy, who was dressed as Christmas. Yay $50 worth of victory in the form of a prepaid Visa card!

Nibbler/Zero and Christmas/Poppy

Sadly, the best picture of Zero was not the best picture of Poppy. But since Zero won, the Poppy part is not particularly important. Sorry Poppy!

Now you may recall that I promised him steak, so Matt and I were forced to dine at Boa. Oh woe is me! But alas, Zero earned his steak. I ordered a bigger steak than I could eat, which also happened to be my favorite cut that isn't available in a smaller size, leaving plenty for Award-Winning Zero. The best part? While he may not have bothered to chew, he didn't choke!

Why did I wait so long to share such cuteness with the world? I forgot, of course! What could have possibly reminded me of this grave oversight? This past weekend's Holiday Party. The theme was MadMen, but I wanted to wear my awesome hat. So I created my own theme known colloquially as A Dress That Matches My Hat.


While waiting for dessert to be served, Matt and I were sitting at a random table near the dance floor. A random guy I had never before seen came over to ask if we were going to enter the costume contest. Uh, no? Spent the next few minutes trying to convince me with promises of great prizes. Eventually, I was forced to relent.

I nonchalantly sauntered onto the dance floor to await judgement. Okay, that was a complete lie. It may be slightly more accurate to say that Matt alternated between pushing and shoving me. Either way, there were a few other people milling around in the appointed spot, waiting for something interesting to happen. Luckily the wait was only a minute or two, not enough time for me to nonchalantly saunter away.

The random guy who coerced me into standing took the microphone. He started with third place, which went to a smartly-dressed lady in blue. Second was given to a man dressed in a cardigan. And first was bestowed upon me?! What? I know the hat is truly amazing, but I had no idea that it is awesome enough to beat hundreds of other, including a significantly percentage of whom dressed in accordance with the official theme.

You will note that I have refrained from making any jokes about a feather in my cap. You will also note that my prize is a ridiculous bottle of whiskey, specifically a Macallan 18 year.

Award-winning Hat!