Friday, February 09, 2007
Tiney's Treats, Part I
While UPW continues to crap her pants over NY Fashion Week, I'm going to move on and announce that I've created a new column that will appear here on FFA periodically. And when I say periodically, I mean, whenever I have a flipping second to do something other than media planning and training for a marathon and joining book clubs and talking to Mooks on Instant Messenger.
"Tiney's Treats" will spotlight a particular product, restaurant, dish, food store, or delicacy that I have deemed SO noteworthy, I must share it with our readers, those readers being Wol, Wolison, and The Schwartz, and sometimes my sister when I remind her to read it (If you're a reader and not listed, please sign in at the guest book in the comments section).
Today's feature combines two of my favorite words: free, and ice cream. I'm talking about the free ice cream at Jason's Deli. Whoever runs that joint (and let me tell you, it ain' t the Jews) is someone I would consider hiring to plan my wedding menu. For those of you unfamiliar with Jason's Deli, here's the schtick: no matter WHAT you order, you get free ice cream after your meal. Not only is it free, but it is unlimited! The little soft serve machine is right out on the floor next to the drink machine. You get to pull the lever yourself and dispense as much as you like. You want a cup or a cone? You want chocolate or vanilla? It's up to you! You want a second serving? Have another! Have six if you like!
Who needs chips and a drink included in some delusional combo meal when you have free ice cream to look forward to! Don't spread this around, but word on the street is, you can go to Jason's Deli and not order a single thing off the menu, and they will STILL give you free ice cream! You don't have to spend a cent!
It's a good thing that Jason's Deli has such a great ice cream incentive program, because I have to say, they aren't off the hook yet. I'm a bit irked by their blatant misuse of the word "deli." Because it sure isn't a deli by my standards. How about they call it Jason's Restaurant or Jason's Cafe or Jason's Goyisha Sandwiches. Calling it a deli is a clear misrepresentation. It's almost as if Jason's Deli has an online dating profile and has posted a picture of itself looking tan and thin, when really, Jason's Deli is grossly overweight and pale with a big bald spot in the back of his head. Remember, Jason's Deli, evetually you're going to meet them in person, and this little fantasy is going to come to an abrupt end.
Anyways. Happy Eating!
"Tiney's Treats" will spotlight a particular product, restaurant, dish, food store, or delicacy that I have deemed SO noteworthy, I must share it with our readers, those readers being Wol, Wolison, and The Schwartz, and sometimes my sister when I remind her to read it (If you're a reader and not listed, please sign in at the guest book in the comments section).
Today's feature combines two of my favorite words: free, and ice cream. I'm talking about the free ice cream at Jason's Deli. Whoever runs that joint (and let me tell you, it ain' t the Jews) is someone I would consider hiring to plan my wedding menu. For those of you unfamiliar with Jason's Deli, here's the schtick: no matter WHAT you order, you get free ice cream after your meal. Not only is it free, but it is unlimited! The little soft serve machine is right out on the floor next to the drink machine. You get to pull the lever yourself and dispense as much as you like. You want a cup or a cone? You want chocolate or vanilla? It's up to you! You want a second serving? Have another! Have six if you like!
Who needs chips and a drink included in some delusional combo meal when you have free ice cream to look forward to! Don't spread this around, but word on the street is, you can go to Jason's Deli and not order a single thing off the menu, and they will STILL give you free ice cream! You don't have to spend a cent!
It's a good thing that Jason's Deli has such a great ice cream incentive program, because I have to say, they aren't off the hook yet. I'm a bit irked by their blatant misuse of the word "deli." Because it sure isn't a deli by my standards. How about they call it Jason's Restaurant or Jason's Cafe or Jason's Goyisha Sandwiches. Calling it a deli is a clear misrepresentation. It's almost as if Jason's Deli has an online dating profile and has posted a picture of itself looking tan and thin, when really, Jason's Deli is grossly overweight and pale with a big bald spot in the back of his head. Remember, Jason's Deli, evetually you're going to meet them in person, and this little fantasy is going to come to an abrupt end.
Anyways. Happy Eating!
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Paris Pants
Wolison's post on Fashion Week reminded me that I haven't talked to you all yet about the war that is going to be waged in the Mookie household come April. It's like this: Mr. Mooks and I are planning a little jaunt to Europe au printemps. We don't have a lot of details yet; only that we are leaning towards London and Paris. This might seem generic, but here's the rub: I'VE NEVER BEEN TO EUROPE. So take your haughtiness and stick it down your underpants, I want to go to London and Paris. Also, LM has already been to those pretzel-and-beer-and-leiderhosen countries like Germany and Austria so we're not going there, at least not right now. And finally (and you will LOVE this tidbit of condescention), the LM informed me that as a world traveler, he can tell me that it's very lonely and disorienting being in a country where no one speaks your language, and I would probably do well to first visit an English speaking country. Because my feeble little pea brain could NEVER handle someone speaking to me in a foreign language. Baisez ma derriere, LM.
But I digress. As it happens, my sister in law and her husband (you know, Colleen and Dr. Steve) went to Italy last week. While they were visiting us here in ATL a couple of weekends ago, Colleen mentioned that she had to fit all of her belongings in a backpack for their trip to Italia. Ha ha ha ha, I laughed. Backpacking! That is for drunken college children. Seriously Colleen, would you like to borrow this adorable pink steamer trunk I have for your voyage? After all, where else will you fit the five outfits per day you will need?
Then the LM laid the serious shit on me. Mooks, he said. What do you think is going to happen when we go to Europe?
Well, I said. Here is what will happen to ME:
Also:
And:
No, said the LM. No, here is what will happen to you Mookie:
AUGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!
On a serious tip though, why?? We are going to two cities. Hear me: two CITIES. If I have a large suitcase instead of a craptastic nylon backpack, what's the difference? Either way, my bag will live in my London hotel (HOTEL, not hostel, LM) and then it will live on the Chunnel, and then it will live in my Paris hotel. Finis! Incidentally, I have nothing against backpacking. I truly, truly wish I had had the opportunity and funding for that kind of trip when I was 21. But I didn't. Now to me, my reward for waiting until the ancient age of 27 to get to The Continent should be traveling en style. I would even be fine with backpacking if I were going to rural, mountainy countries. But I am going to LONDON and I am going to PARIS. I need space for the few shreds of fashionable clothing I do own, and more importantly, I need empty room for bringing back the MORE fashionable clothing that I find there. The kind of clothing whose beauty you have to shield your eyes from so that it doesn't burn your corneas.
Allow me to relate another tale: When I was seven years old, my aunt and uncle took my cousin Ryan, same age, to Europe for the first time. My uncle is German and they visited his homeland among other places. For two weeks while they were gone, my two-year-old cousin Loren lived with us. I love her now, but damn did I hate that devil-baby who took all my mom's attention. When her parents FINALLY came back to get her, they came bearing gifts!! And the most glorious gift of all was for seven-year-old Mookie. It was a lovely pair of pants, straight from the runways of Paris. They were stark white, pleated, and featured a convoluted arrangement of buckles, snaps and buttons. As soon as I put them on, I KNEW I would be the most fabulous girl in the first grade. You couldn't have given me a better gift if you told me I had inherited Toys R Us.
The point is that even at seven, I knew that all good things fashion spill out of Paris. Those pants were an icon, and this trip is my pilgrimage. I tried to convey all this that night with the LM and Colleen and Dr. Steve. The subject died and C and Dr. S went on their backpacking tour of Italy. So yesterday they got back and you want to know what Colleen says, totally unsolicited by me? She says that all Italian women wear the most beautiful clothes, and she felt completely out of place in her wrinkled jeans and sneakers.
HAAAAAHHHHH!!!! HA! LM!
I told you, I told you. Rick Steves crappacks are terrible, and lovely suitcases full of lovely clothes are where it's at. I will accept no less. Which brings me back to the war. It's going to happen. I feel the turmoil building the closer we get. LM will try to tell me he knows because he watched a few stupid travel videos and went on one stupid trip to Germany with his old dad. But my will is like a stone fortress, strong and proud. There is a wall ten feet thick and a thousand men guard my decision to carry a big bag. And the flag that flies from my highest turret, is a pair of white pants from Paris.
But I digress. As it happens, my sister in law and her husband (you know, Colleen and Dr. Steve) went to Italy last week. While they were visiting us here in ATL a couple of weekends ago, Colleen mentioned that she had to fit all of her belongings in a backpack for their trip to Italia. Ha ha ha ha, I laughed. Backpacking! That is for drunken college children. Seriously Colleen, would you like to borrow this adorable pink steamer trunk I have for your voyage? After all, where else will you fit the five outfits per day you will need?
Then the LM laid the serious shit on me. Mooks, he said. What do you think is going to happen when we go to Europe?
Well, I said. Here is what will happen to ME:
Also:
And:
No, said the LM. No, here is what will happen to you Mookie:
AUGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!
On a serious tip though, why?? We are going to two cities. Hear me: two CITIES. If I have a large suitcase instead of a craptastic nylon backpack, what's the difference? Either way, my bag will live in my London hotel (HOTEL, not hostel, LM) and then it will live on the Chunnel, and then it will live in my Paris hotel. Finis! Incidentally, I have nothing against backpacking. I truly, truly wish I had had the opportunity and funding for that kind of trip when I was 21. But I didn't. Now to me, my reward for waiting until the ancient age of 27 to get to The Continent should be traveling en style. I would even be fine with backpacking if I were going to rural, mountainy countries. But I am going to LONDON and I am going to PARIS. I need space for the few shreds of fashionable clothing I do own, and more importantly, I need empty room for bringing back the MORE fashionable clothing that I find there. The kind of clothing whose beauty you have to shield your eyes from so that it doesn't burn your corneas.
Allow me to relate another tale: When I was seven years old, my aunt and uncle took my cousin Ryan, same age, to Europe for the first time. My uncle is German and they visited his homeland among other places. For two weeks while they were gone, my two-year-old cousin Loren lived with us. I love her now, but damn did I hate that devil-baby who took all my mom's attention. When her parents FINALLY came back to get her, they came bearing gifts!! And the most glorious gift of all was for seven-year-old Mookie. It was a lovely pair of pants, straight from the runways of Paris. They were stark white, pleated, and featured a convoluted arrangement of buckles, snaps and buttons. As soon as I put them on, I KNEW I would be the most fabulous girl in the first grade. You couldn't have given me a better gift if you told me I had inherited Toys R Us.
The point is that even at seven, I knew that all good things fashion spill out of Paris. Those pants were an icon, and this trip is my pilgrimage. I tried to convey all this that night with the LM and Colleen and Dr. Steve. The subject died and C and Dr. S went on their backpacking tour of Italy. So yesterday they got back and you want to know what Colleen says, totally unsolicited by me? She says that all Italian women wear the most beautiful clothes, and she felt completely out of place in her wrinkled jeans and sneakers.
HAAAAAHHHHH!!!! HA! LM!
I told you, I told you. Rick Steves crappacks are terrible, and lovely suitcases full of lovely clothes are where it's at. I will accept no less. Which brings me back to the war. It's going to happen. I feel the turmoil building the closer we get. LM will try to tell me he knows because he watched a few stupid travel videos and went on one stupid trip to Germany with his old dad. But my will is like a stone fortress, strong and proud. There is a wall ten feet thick and a thousand men guard my decision to carry a big bag. And the flag that flies from my highest turret, is a pair of white pants from Paris.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Chomp Chomp Y'all
I can't believe I almost forgot to post this. Last weekend the LM and I were watching my very favorite show on Food Network, Paula's Home Cooking. Paula and Jamie and Bobby (if you don't know who Paula and Jamie and Bobby are, you should never read my blog again, we don't want you here)...anyway, Paula and Jamie and Bobby were making delicious food for football parties. They made chicken wrapped in bacon and crab dip and spiced nuts and all kinds of things to make me drool. But then, THEN. At the very end of the show, the three of them are sitting down to watch football and eat their delicious tasty treats in Paula's lovely house. After Paula's usual sign-off,"Best deeshes from are house, to yers", Bobby says "And Go Dawgs", and Jamie says "Go Dawgs" and PAULA SAYS...
"GO GATORS!!!"
Yes y'all! SHE SAID IT! Just when I thought I couldn't love her anymore! The LM and I rewound it three times and watched it over and over. I've been trying to find a clip of it online to share, but no luck. BUT the episode will air again tomorrow morning at 7am and Monday at 1pm. Start your Tivos Gator fans, you don't want to miss this!
"GO GATORS!!!"
Yes y'all! SHE SAID IT! Just when I thought I couldn't love her anymore! The LM and I rewound it three times and watched it over and over. I've been trying to find a clip of it online to share, but no luck. BUT the episode will air again tomorrow morning at 7am and Monday at 1pm. Start your Tivos Gator fans, you don't want to miss this!
