Burnt oil and avocado mush

I've been having lots of guilt lately about how little I cook for my husband and I. My step-Mom gave me a cookbook for Hanukkah (she just sends stuff to the apartment so I open it, not knowing what it's for) and I take it as a hint. A friendly hint, but a hint. So - I've started to try recipes during the day for my lunches. That way, if they suck I don't have to be embarrassed in front of my husband and then scramble for dinner plans.

I bought an avocado the other day because I love avocados and want to make something with it. I found a recipe for pasta with an avocado cream sauce. Instead of cream I used milk so it was a bit healthier, and instead of olive oil I used sesame because I love that flavor.

The sauce turned out like vomit. It was green and mushy but not "pretty avocado" mush. It literally looked like bile and puke all combined into one. It tasted like flavorless mush and to top it all off, the pasta was finished before the sauce (the bane of my existence, getting food to all be ready at the same time), so the pasta stuck together.

I just ordered sushi. Let the guilt set in.

Who do I write for?

I started this blog about 2 years ago with the intention of writing completely anonymously: no real first name, no family member names, no way to figure out who I am unless you are REALLY bored and want to piece together 2 years of entries. I told lots of friends and ex-friends about it (yeah I'm lame I think I really do have 1-2 "ex" friends out there) and for the most part, they're the ones that read this crap I ramble about. Then there are the 3-4 strangers who read it who are some of my favorite readers.

I ask myself: who do I write this for? If I want to write about health-related issues, I'd say there are about 70% of my readers I'd be fine with them reading it. What if I want to write about girly stuff like that time of month - my guy friends who read this will really be OH so thrilled to have that kind of insight about me. What if I want to talk about a random fight with my husband - is he going to hate me for publishing that despite my anonymity (D - you know you'd be annoyed)?

Maybe I should move my blog, tell those that I'd have no filter with where it is --- and move on. Or better yet, I guess I need 'shared' and 'private' entries like they do on Livejournal, where you need approval to read the blog. Dear lord I'm bored on a Sunday night to even waste space writing about this bullshit. I guess it's better than a lame "Dear diary here is what I did today" entry.

So without any filter whatsoever, here are random thoughts of things I'd normally never say on my blog:
1) This week has been the never-ending god awful period, complete with stomach pains galore.
2) I have taken medication before just to fall asleep, knowing very well that the medication is not meant for that (like popping a Nyquil when you're healthy, only a stronger pill).
3) D and I have hung 5 shelves in the last 6 months in our apartment. Each one takes about 60-90 minutes. Each time we've hung them we've gotten into some kind of argument where one of us has to say "don't interrupt me" or "why are you raising your voice?"
4) I am going to therapy again once a week. I might not write what it's for, but I have to wear tape on my thumbs whenever I am alone. (No - I don't have Nintendo thumb or Blackberry thumb or anything like that).

Borat: A Sign Saying "It's ok, I'm Jewish"

My husband D and I went to see Borat last night. We're normally not big movie-goers, but typically wait for something to come out on DVD or pay-per view and watch it at home. It's cheaper, more comfortable to relax on a couch, and the element of pause for bathroom breaks basically kicks ass. However, we couldn't wait to see Borat - so many friends said it's hilarious and every trailer I've seen had me laughing my ass off.

In the movie, we both experienced something that neither one of us was aware the other one was thinking until after the movie was over. There were fewer than 20 people in the theater with us, an added bonus when you see a 5PM showing on a Monday night. I think D and I both have great senses of humor - we're able to laugh at ourselves on a daily basis and find loads of things funny. We laughed throughout a lot of the movie, and felt like our chuckles were the only ones at times. In particular, there was a scene called "Running of the Jew" where Borat has Kazakhs running down the street being chased by a person wearing an oversized head that looks 'stereotypical' like a Jew. In the middle of my laughter, I couldn't help but think, "Are these other people in the theater judging me and think that I'm laughing because they're making fun of Jews?" or do they know I realize the social commentary Sascha Baron Cohen is making?

It was the first time in my life I wanted to wear a sign or tell everyone in the theater, "It's ok because I'm a Jew." There were even times where I resisted laughing, almost fearful that I shouldn't be laughing at these scenes but rather saying "Holy shit I can't believe he was doing this!" I had wondered if, during the scene where Cohen was ripping into a church that was "saving him", if Christians felt the same way.

Don't get me wrong. The movie was fucking brilliant to say the least.

Hotel sundries

I have an unhealthy obsession with hotel bathroom sundries. Lotions, shampoos, conditioners, soaps, sewing kits, perfumes, shower caps and anything of the bathroom variety - I love them. I am blessed with two bathrooms in my apartment - one is for my husband and I, one for guests - and the one for guests also serves as a storage room for this addiction. Taking a quick inventory, I have:

- 16 small bottles of shampoo
- 12 small bottles of conditioner
- 15 flat packets of perfume (picture a ketchup packet with perfume inside)
- 6 bars of oatmeal soap
- 4 bars of green vegetable soap
- 12 bottles of lotion

I take them because I feel like I'm entitled to them, and I love free stuff. I also take them to spice up my normal bathing routine with new scents, and also to make family and friends feel extra special that they have my stolen hotel sundries to use whenever they want.

I took this addiction to a new low last weekend. D's (my hubby) parents were in town, staying at the W Hotel. We visited them on the morning of their departure, and lo and behold - a housekeeping cart was parked directly in front of their room, with no housekeeper nor sound of vacuums in sight. I made my move: I grabbed 4 Bliss lotions, shampoos and conditioners. (Bliss is a spa in NYC and many other urban centers, and their stuff ain't cheap). After dwelling in their hotel room for about 20 minutes, I realized that the remaining lotions, shampoos, and conditioners were STILL in the hallway, begging for a home. I took 3 more of each, chucked 'em in a hotel laundry bag, and walked my happy ass out of the hotel.

This was a week ago. I'm still beaming ear-to-ear. I'm crazy.