Mommy, wow ...

I still don't feel like a big kid, really.  Today being my last day of college classes (yikesyikesyikes) is throwing me for a bit of a loop.  You've all heard this, but a little too much Asher Roth (unlike a little too much exposure to sniffles, fever and vomiting) never hurt anybody.

PS On an unrelated note, happy 101st day in office to my guy Barack!  And happy 100th blog post to me.

Ah, young love

Tan Hong Ming is maybe the cutest thing I've ever seen.

via Flavorwire

Shiny happy insects

The happy-face spider, found only on the islands of Oahu, Molokai, Maui and Hawaii, is decorated with an array of color patterns on the back of its abdomen, which sometimes resemble a smiley face!  This cheery camo may serve to hide them from their bird predators, but because it can change according to what food the spider has eaten, it's more likely that they just know you're never fully dressed without a smile.

Life after death

"I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can't see from the center."

Delacorte Press is set to release a collection of 14 never-before-published stories by the late Kurt Vonnegut.  The collection, titled Look at the Birdie, will feature Vonnegut's original illustrations and is set for a November 2009 release.  Better recognize.

via Publishers Weekly

Choco-veggie mobile

Some environmentally-friendly news for the end of Earth Week: a new race car called the ecoF3 will be launched next month.  The car, which is expected to reach speeds of 145mph, is made of vegetables and powered by chocolate.  More on this delicious vehicle here.

Spring Fair wares

For those in Baltimore (specifically Charles Village), it's that weekend of year again when Hopkins seems like a real school and there are smiling, drunken faces as far as the eye can see.  Take a break from the usual routine of eat, drink, sunburn by stopping by my and Dana's booth, where we'll be selling her clothes, my handmade headbands, and some limited edition t-shirts from up-and-coming streetwear company CreateBuildDestroy.  Or just stop by to hang out, 'cause we'll be around all day. 

Good morning, Baltimore

Learning to Be More

This bratty city-rat did not go gently in –
I scrunched my nose aloft to face Fed Hill
and resolutely airborne it has been
for fourmative (alleged) years. The thrill
of Honeyed tones escaped my harsher ear;
I missed the apple’s bite. Professors spoke
in paper verse, so reedy as cohered
to nicknames lent by Charming small-town folks
(as far as I’m concerned, a joke – I can’t
believe that Bawlmerese facilitates
a literary aptitude). The chant
of “Fuck tha Poe-lice” debilitates
a scholar’s ear – I scowl into my book,
look up to see a natty boy who winks
a roguish eye my way. His protest looks
like Mobtown fun, in fact. Can’t help but blink
back at the pUtz. “What have we here,” he asks,
“a snooty type?” “The small-town jam just ain’t
my thing, I guess.” He quietly tsk-tasks,
informs me that it isn’t quite as quaint
as I’ve implied. “I’ll show you, kid,” he drawls.
We tumble down the Avenue, as rows
of multicolored homes approach St Paul.
“I know this joint,” I say. He grins. “I s’pose
you’d show Lord Baltimore himself a grand
ol’ time?” I tell him I hate crabs and guys
who’ve been around, to which he sweeps a hand:
“Too much of a good thing can make time fly.”
“You’re mixing adages,” I say. “But why
be less, you know?” he says. I acquiesce.
He drives me to the Ottobar. I buy
us New York hipster beers. He’s not impressed.
“They brew that on South Charles. Besides, it tastes
like piss.” He’s right. We dance to Scottie B
til three a.m. I let him touch my waist.
Now back at school, I sit at Dunning Tree,
pontificate poetically on hills
and beers and crabs, Examining the Sun
which climbs in neon pinks and greens. It fills
the scraping sky to mark a day begun.

BYO me, baby

I'm a fiend for any restaurant that allows you to bring your own booze - I've literally spent hours scouring NYMag and Metromix to see who still doesn't have a liquor license.  In this economy (sheesh, that phrase is getting tired, isn't it?), a 200% markup on a bottle of wine just ain't gonna cut it.  Here to make things just a little easier for the thrifty diner is GoBYO.com, a site that pulls up all the BYOB establishments in and around your zipcode.  Salud!

Kumar goes to the White House

Comedic genius, dramatic actor, visiting lecturer, and now ... Obama's right hand man?  Not quite, but word is that Kal Penn has been killed off the television show House to move on to his next big thing: Associate Director of the White House Office of Public Liaison.  I can dig it - perhaps an Indian president is next?

Bag Raiders at Zodiac

The Zodiac's weekly No Rule party (a different free show every Monday at the former restaurant next to Club Charles) featured the bombastic beats of the Bag Raiders, an Australian DJ duo.  Their music, which they have blithely dubbed "adventure-electro," is a fun, bop-or-boogieable hybrid - they've remixed the likes of Cut Copy, Chromeo, MSTRKRFT, Kid Sister and more, and it certainly doesn't hurt that they're way hunky.  

Check out the video for "Fun Punch," which features Power Rangers beating up some guys in masks:

Julie Andrews is beaming somewhere

Nothing puts a grin on the face of weary Friday travelers like a little song-and-dance number.  Over 200 dancers performed a seemingly spontaneous version of "Do Re Mi" in the Central Station of Antwerp, Belgium after only two rehearsals.  Watch this video til the end, and see if you can help but smile:

Alfresco dining, just in time for spring

The Pier 66 Maritime, home of The Frying Pan, has just re-opened in time for eating-and-drinking-on-a-boat season (isn't that the best season of all?).  I couldn't be more excited to return to New York.

Thank me now or thank me later

Thirteen year old Seth Rogen's stand-up:

"Frankly folks, it's a Jewish camp.  What do you think we sing about?  We sing about death and bowel movements."

Great balls of ... cake

Took a long time to make these cake truffles (okay, so they're really called cake balls but I think truffles sounds less gross), but it was oh so worth it.  You can use any frosting-cake mix-chocolate combo - I went for red velvet with buttercream frosting dipped in milk chocolate, just like Bakerella did, and they were delish.  

I think I'm ready for summer

Independence

For city kids, July means scorching feet
on blackened roofs. We spend our sunburnt nights
above a world where mica glitters streets
and Hudson River pyros spray their lights
in shots of gaiety. We squish boy-girl
in wooden seats and sizzle big-kid sips
of vodka Pop Rocks ‘til our stomachs twirl.
A swish from teeth to tongue will tingle lips
each time the pinwheel blasts light up the sky,
our eyeballs tracing figure eights inside
their sockets; soon we’re flying semi-high.
We knock our knees and try to take in stride
the fizzy booze and crackling bursts of flare,
to save the hiccup for the loudest spark,
to hide hot ears in laps or nests of hair,
until the neon fades away to dark.

Travel on the cheap

I've become something of an expert at budget vacations in the past few years: relatively affordable trips to Puerto Rico, Mexico, New Zealand, Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia and Jamaica all hold places on my travel resume.  Picking a recession-friendly spot for a post-graduation go-out-with-a-bang week of sights and sun proved slightly more difficult, but thanks to a Google-savvy pal, my stars have aligned with NY Mag's recommendation.

My last week in May will be spent on the beaches of Bocas del Toro, Panama, where the flights are cheap (something like $330 roundtrip) and the hostel's cheaper (Mondo Taitu, a backpacker's bar and lodge, is just $12 a night and includes free breakfast and bikes!).  Who wants in?

Baked beats

CakeSpy.com introduces a "musically-inspired menu of sweets" that includes these Rolling Scones, Pink (Frosted) Floyd Donuts, and James Brownies, among others.  I can't decide which treat is more intriguing/gross - the 90s child in me is weirdly fascinated with the CannoLisa Loeb (that's right, a cannoli with the face of everyone's favorite nerdy-chic rocker).  Gonna go listen to "Stay" right now.

First dawg

The search is over - Bo Obama, a Portuguese water dog, was given to Sasha and Malia as a gift from Ted Kennedy and family.  He does manage to rock that lei with a sort of presidential air, doesn't he?

Words of wisdom ...

... from a washed-up real estate broker wearing a Raiders vest who posts fake apartment listings on Craigslist to entice people to come into "his" office:

Him: I heard they're on a hiring spree somewhere.

Me: Who? Where?!

Him: I don't know, but in a recession they fire a lot of people so they have to hire a lot too.

Me: Huh?

Him: You know how they said the real estate bubble burst?

Me: Sure.

Him: That's bs, 'cause ever since they said that we've been getting more business than ever.

Me (silently): Maybe that's because you TRICK PEOPLE INTO COMING TO YOUR OFFICE!

Him: Did you get your name legally changed?

Me: No ... why?

Him: Usually the people who get legal name changes have the prettiest names.

Interesting marketing approach, mister.  And thanks for showing me the doors of three apartments with no one home.  Also, I really appreciate the eight billion business cards - maybe I'll send you a few of my own once I get the job at the place with the hiring spree.

The latest poetic installment

Needs some re-working (I'll post the revision later) ....

SWAK

From outside a circle where bottles
spun swiftly to heaven and seven
seemed longer than history lessons,
we secretly scripted the names of our
Cheeto-breathed crushes on roofs
of our mouths or the tops of retainers.

The frightened contestants bumped
Eskimo noses as passion-red spread
like a pinch (recall all the love words
relating to pain: to fall for, whipped, a crush).

Then later on, punch does the same
to bring heat to our faces
so we make like the Frenchies,
twist tongues round each other,
blow farewells with fingertips
touched to our lips, or double-up
Europe-style – kiss kiss, kiss kiss.

We steal techniques from alien species:
fish who pucker like sour-faced suckers,
the suckling newborn,
the flutter of butterfly wings on each other.
We pull in cheeks and bat our eyelashes
to tempt fishy lips and fleeting back-glances.

Embraces like Rodin’s or Klimt’s
remain entangled forever,
less messy than morning breath
or lips split from a bite,
but the two frozen lovers miss out
on the last, the dark angel’s
pallor-lipped, instant goodnight.

Why was that night different from all other nights?

Because this past Thursday evening, our very own Obama became the first US president in history to host a Passover seder at the White House.  Seders have taken place in the building in years past, but never before has the president been in attendance.  That's what I call change we can believe in.

Photo courtesy of NY Times

Happy passover

Even on this yeast-free week, us Jews still manage to find ways to stuff ourselves silly.  Here, a Pesach classic done oh-so-right: Tres Leches Coconut Macaroons.  Careful not to overshadow whoever's seder you bring these babies to (on second thought, you may wanna keep 'em to yourself).

Maple syrup, green mountains and gay marriage

Yesterday morning, Vermont's state legislature overrode Governor Jim Douglas' veto of the gay marriage bill, making VT the fourth state in the US to legalize equal marriage rights.  C'mon, New York, let's shoot for number five.

The Murray Hill Song

At the risk of getting stuck in a re-blogging rut, I had to share with those who haven't yet had the pleasure of viewing this ridiculousness:

Please note homeless man carrying sign that says "I went to Hebrew school with ALL of you!"

How do you protect yourself from a dildo?

The Bruno trailer is here (just 3 months left for them to coax Universal out of an NC-17 rating). 

It's restricted, and I'm still slow on this video-embed thing, so here's the link to the red band trailer - Enjoy!

P.S. thanks for the heads-up on my blog faux-pas, D.  Keep keepin' me in check.

My new favorite love poem

Language Lesson 1976
by Heather McHugh

When Americans say a man
takes liberties, they mean

he’s gone too far. In Philadelphia today I saw
a kid on a leash look mom-ward

and announce his fondest wish: one
bicentennial burger, hold

the relish. Hold is forget,
in American.

On the courts of Philadelphia
the rich prepare

to serve, to fault. The language is a game as well,
in which love can mean nothing,

doubletalk mean lie. I’m saying
doubletalk with me. I’m saying

go so far the customs are untold.
Make nothing without words,

and let me be
the one you never hold.

Supersize my snack

Pimpthatsnack.com is a site where users can share photos and instructions for how to create jumbo-sized versions of their favorite junk food.  Whoever said bigger isn't necessarily better needs to take a gander at these ginormous gummies.  

Spiderdudes

Saw raging electro-punk DJ duo The Bloody Beetroots at Ottobar Wednesday night. The spidermasked Italians killed it, bringing the headbanging energy up high enough to elicit flailing elbows and even the odd crowd-surfer.  Getting super-excited for MSTRKRFT at Sonar tomorrow!

Baltimore loves the Beetroots.

Turning over a new rock

Flavorwire interviewed 30 Rock's Judah Friedlander (as far as I'm concerned, the only man alive who can still rock a trucker hat) about keeping a sense of humor during hard times.  Best of the transcript:

Flavorwire: What’s funny about poverty?
Judah Friedlander: Seeing a former rich chick have to take the subway is hilarious. I once saw a homeless woman who had had a nose job at some point in her life. I wondered, is that how she went homeless? Did she blow all her money on the nose job or was it something else?
FW: Any advice to the guy that just lost his job and is moving into his parents’ basement?
JF: A lot of parents’ basements are pretty awesome. Many have ping pong tables. You can play ping pong all day. That’s what I would do. And, you have the laundry right there. And you can throw parties, ’cause it’s in the basement. The parents won’t hear you. And you don’t have to worry about that annoying neighbor that lives below you, ’cause there isn’t one.

A safer alternative

Important news, both frightening and heartening - first, the scary stuff:

Although reports of Toxic Shock Syndrome (TSS) are down from their surge in the late 1970s and early 80s, the danger of non-organic tampons still looms.  The mass-marketed tampons produced today are full of synthetic fiber (including rayon, the culprit for the growth of TSS-causing staphylococcus aureus bacteria), pesticides (from the non-organic farming process of the cotton) and chlorine (used in bleaching).  Why try to avoid bleached, pesticide-ridden food when we are polluting our bodies by inserting it directly for a week each month?

Now for the good news:

Companies like Seventh Generation have created organic cotton tampons that have not been bleached with chlorine (packaged with all recycled paper to boot!), available in  stores everywhere.  As intelligent women of a greener generation, we must consider our bodies as temples to be treated with the utmost care and respect.  Let's take advantage of the good things we have available to us.  Take the first step by refusing to buy bleached, non-organic sanitary care products.