Misunderstood Song Lyrics

TYM: (singing) I... don't wanna work... I just wanna play in the tub all day...

Me: What did you say?

TYM: I... don't wanna work... I just wanna play in the tub all day...

Me: I don't think that's the lyric.

TYM: (skeptically) Then what is it?

Me: I don't know. But that's definitely not it. Check on Google.

We Google.

Me: It's BANG ON THE DRUM ALL DAY.

TYM: Well, I think my lyric is better.

Me: Yeah. If you're five, maybe.

A Christmas Fiasco

As I mentioned previously, I was in charge of making Christmas dinner at Cousin Desiree and Cousin Josh's house this year. This was a lovely idea in theory, as my grandparents usually do it at their house, and they're getting a bit old to be doing all that work. In practice, there was the usual chaos and hilarity that one would expect to ensue.

I did a bunch of prep work ahead of time. Baked the spiced pumpkin layer cakes and cooled them. Made the cream cheese frosting. Diced, chopped and minced all the components for the minestrone. Put everything into neat little packages, bags and boxes for easy transporting.

I insisted we arrive at the cousins' place at 9:00 Christmas morning. Dinner wasn't scheduled until 2:00, but I wanted to make sure we had extra time should any calamities occur. As soon as we entered the house, I preheated the oven to 450 degrees, and began searing the roast on the stove top.

Suddenly, the kitchen was full of smoke and there was a terrible smell. I attributed the smoke to said searing, and asked Cousin Desiree if her oven always smelled like that when it was on. She replied in the affirmative. When the searing was complete, I opened up the stove to put it in, and that's when I discovered that Cousin Desiree, who doesn't cook as a general rule, had been using her stove to store all of her pots and pans, as well as her plastic storage containers.

Lightheaded from the toxic chemicals burning, we turned off the heat and started moving pots and pans from the oven into the sink. The plastic wasn't that easy to remove, as it had melted all over the racks and the bottom of the stove. I went at that with a metal spatula, and made some progress on the bottom. Not so much on the rack. We removed it, but the plastic had already cooled and hardened. That's when we got this idea:



That, incidentally, didn't work, so we decided to turn the stove back on and let the rest of the plastic melt into the pan that was supposed to be for the cauliflower and broccoli. That didn't work either, so mom scrubbed the rack OCD-style:



As you can see, Mom got the job done. We put the rack back in and deemed the stove safe-ish for cooking. That's when I noticed that the broiler was still lit through the holes in the bottom of the stove.

Only it wasn't lit. The plastic knob on top of the second stack of pans that Cousin Desiree had been storing in there was on fire. Completely on fire. We whacked it a few times with a wet dish towel and eventually it went out. It was at that moment that we all decided to dump some Bailey's into our morning coffee.

I actually started cooking around 11:00, and was quite pleased with the results -- the food tasted good, and I got it on the table close to the designated time. All 11 people at the table seemed to enjoy it, or at least they faked it pretty well, which was nice of them. All was right with Christmas again.

Well, until I sat down and split my flowered satin dress all the way up the back, anyway.

Christmas Dinner

So have you guys heard "A Twisted Christmas?" It's pretty awesome. I'm listening to it right now. It didn't want to play for my pre-Christmas dinner party, which was kind of annoying, but it's magically all better at the moment.

About the dinner party. The Former Roommate made a wonderfully sappy speech after food and before presents. See, we've been doing the Sunday dinner party for more than five years, with mostly the same cast of characters. It used to be every Sunday, but then The Former Roommate and I moved to the ends of the Earth so we started doing it monthly. Lil' Suzy moved out here, too, and once we lure Azee, or at least get her off the stupid L train, we might start doing it more often. I think of all of them as my NYC family. And I agree with The Former Roommate that it's pretty amazing that we've been doing it for as long as we have.

Despite my broken foot, I insisted on playing chef last night. Here's the menu:

Beverage:
Mulled cider with spiced rum

Appetizers:
Prosciutto and gruyere pinwheels
Pita chips and hummus
Candied pistachios

Entree:
Shephard's pie with roasted Brussels sprouts

Dessert:
Sticky toffee pudding with vanilla ice cream

Since cooking school, I can't cook without thinking about what I could have done better, which is annoying. All in all, though, I'm pretty pleased with how dinner came out. We also exchanged gifts. Because of my foot, I did all of my shopping online this year, and despite my best efforts, nothing arrived on time. So everyone got a card with a printout of their impending gift. I got The Former Roommate and Azee quirky jewelry from Etsy, a Pogues book for Lil' Suzy, and a pizza stone set for the Fresh Prince of Darkness.

Did you know that Apple won't let you buy an iPhone for a gift? You can only buy a card, and then the recipient has to go to an Apple store and pick it up, and set it up and activate it in the store. It's so annoying. That's what I got TYM for Christmas. He got me Guitar Hero and House of the Dead for Wii. I'm having a hard time not playing either right now, especially since I drank quite a bit of wine last night and am feeling pretty lazy.

Azee got me a lovely bracelet and a journal. Lil' Suzy got me some crazy awesome flamingo glasses. The Fresh Prince of Darkness got me a book of the best food writing, and The Former Roommate got me an Indian cookbook, which I can't wait to use.

I'm going to wrap this post up now, as I'm even boring myself. I'm going to try to post more in the New Year. I might even do one of those "blog every day for a month" things. But maybe not, as I'm going to have American Midol to deal with. Holy crap, you guys. Two years ago, Mr. Mejack was all "Hey guys, you should use Twitter for Midol." and we were all, "Huh? What's that? Sounds nerdy." and he set it up, figuring we'd come around eventually. And we did. Did you know I'm on Twitter? Anyway, when he set it up, he got us twitter.com/americanidol. We're probably going to get sued by FOX or something, but holy crap! We'll use it in the meantime, and hopefully get some new readers.

Oh, before I go. Remember like 5 years ago when I posted about how my ex-boyfriend from college became a priest? HE TOTALLY DIDN'T. It was just a rumor, or a lie -- I'm not sure which, as ANOTHER ex-boyfriend, who oddly looks exactly like the ex-boyfriend in question, is the one who told me. I'm learning all sorts of interesting things about people via Facebook.

Oh, one more thing. Hey, remember that time I said I was going to wrap up this post because it was boring? Those were some good times. And it's STILL boring, and yet here I go, talking more! Anyway, some of my metal-loving friends have to hurry up and have some babies, because I need to buy this as a gift. TYM wasn't very impressed by this. In fact, he said: "Yeah, I've seen that before. Hipster parents desperately trying to avoid suburban existance -- like the father on Gossip Girl in Williamsburg." did I tell you that TYM LOVES Gossip Girl? Because he does. He also hates Blake Lively's hair, which, I mean, what?! She has the best hair ever. He thinks there's "too much of it," and that it's "all over the place."

All right. That's it for me. Happy holidays! I'll see you in 2009, or maybe before, because I'm sneaky like that. Oh, did I tell you I'm making Christmas dinner for the whole family? My grandfather keeps trying to take over. It's funny. Oh, and my family lost power during the big snowstorm, and my mom wouldn't go to Cousin Desiree's -- who actually had power -- because she was afraid that the power would come back on, and there would be a surge, and the whole house would burn down, and she wouldn't be there to stop it. So she sat home, in the dark, by herself. Hey, now that she's on the internets, I'm thinking of setting up a profile for her on Match.com without telling her, and screening guys and when I find a good one, making her go out with him. Good idea? Bad idea? Worked in that Diane Lane movie.

BYE.

Regarding Amy Sedaris, Felt Vaginas and Restraining Orders

Me: You have to watch this Amy Sedaris interview. I am laughing so hard. There's a giant felt vagina in it. You can judge whether that's safe for work or not for yourself.

The Former Roommate: Who is this Chelsea person?

Me: She used to be on Girls Behaving Badly. I really want Amy Sedaris to be my BFF. Do you think it would weird her out if I sent her a BFF necklace?

The Former Roommate: Probably!

Me: Hm, well. I know where she lives, because Holly once asked me to utilize my private detective skills to find it so she could mail her some sushi. I could just start walking by all the time and eventually we'd say hi and start talking to each other.

The Former Roommate: That wouldn't be creepy at all!

Me: Nope! I could pretend to be her neighbor, and then... oh, bummer. I'm moving to Brooklyn. But hey, if you ever want to come over for dinner...

The Former Roommate: Yeah. I'm going to start saving money for bailing you out.

Me: If this works, TYM is going to have to take her off of his list. He's not allowed to bang my BFF.

The Former Roommate: She's on his list? Huh.

Me: She was on Jimmy Kimmel the other night, and showing a bit of cleavage. That's all it takes, really.

Chelsea Lately - Amy Sedaris

Blast from the Past

Here's the backstory:

I went to the foot doctor today. My metatarsal fracture is healing quite nicely. My Lisfranc sprain, not so much. I posted an update on Facebook, and Amy, a friend from college, suggested I bedazzle my boot. Since that's probably the best idea ever, I immediately Googled the Bedazzler to see where they sell them. And on the official website, I saw a familiar face -- Tanna from The Apprentice's second season. She's the official spokesperson for the Bedazzler.

Now, as far as spokespeople go, she's not particularly warm or likeable. But as soon as you get to the site, a video of her immediately starts playing. First, Tanna tells us that bedazzling is back and bigger than ever. Next, she claims that as a single mom, she made $10,000 bedazzling in just two weeks. I vaguely remember this questionable claim from watching The Apprentice, and I still don't buy it. Also, she doesn't say which show she was on -- just that she's from "National TV." So many questions.

Obviously, I'm buying myself a bedazzler, so if you need anything decorated, feel free to send it my way. I'll bedazzle the crap out of anything you want, for the low, low price of $10,000. Belts? Purses? Toddlers? You name it. Oh, and if anyone wants to buy me a bedazzler for Christmas and save me the $20, that would rock.

How having a broken foot rules

Last night, TYM ventured out to get some holiday shopping done. On the way home, he stopped off at Lizz's to wrap them so when he arrived, he had two ready-for-Christmas presents ready to put under the tree I'd just decorated.

"You have to open one of these," he said.

"No! It's not Christmas yet!" I replied. I'm kind of a purist that way.

"No, you have to. There's a reason. Open the big one."

So I opened the big one. It was Guitar Hero: World Tour. He wanted to give it to me early because I'm a gimp who never leaves the house and gets bored during the day. Do I have the best boyfriend or what?

Also, Guitar Hero is HARD. I stayed up until 1:30 playing it, and I still can't get the hang of "One Way or Another."

In other news, did you see "Jizz In My Pants?" If not, please do. I think SNL might actually be getting funny again. And I have to say, Fred Armisen's Obama has greatly improved.

He Knows Me So Well...

Me: Come on. Let's go take a tour of the Scientology Center. It will be funny.

TYM: No.

Me: Why not?

TYM: Because you're going to go, and then they're going to say everything you want to hear, and start talking about natural foods and pharmaceutical-free lifestyles, and you're totally going to sign up.

Me: Seriously? You're worried I'm going to become a Scientologist?

TYM: Actually, no. You'll sign up, be all into it for like a month, and then get bored and never go back.

Me: See? So let's go then!

I used to sometimes try to catch her, but never even caught her name

As I've mentioned before, I'm a bit of a klutz. And by a bit, I mean I'm basically a walking (and falling) disaster.

Last night, TYM and I bussed it back to the city from Atlantic City, where we spent leg #2 of our Thanksgiving weekend. Normally, we would have stayed until Sunday, but My Sharona is in town from Texas, and she, Summer and I were planning on getting together tonight for dinner, and I didn't want to get caught up in the bus shenanigans that would have surely happened had we tried to come back today, because my travel karma blows.

When the bus pulled into Port Authority, TYM and I were both starving. After weighing our options, we decided to hit a bodega on our walk to the F-train, and then head back to Brooklyn and eat somewhere in his old neighborhood. New York Deli jalapeno-flavored potato chips in hand, I exited the bodega, and promptly fell on my ass. I do this all the time, but this time was different. Something cracked, and despite my insanely high threshold for pain, my eyes began burning with tears and I nearly vomited from the pain.

TYM, naturally, was panicked, and ushered me into a cab back to Brooklyn pronto. Once at home, my swollen, already bruised foot was iced and placed on pillows, whisky was drank and the medicine cabinet was ransacked for long-forgotten painkillers. I reluctantly let him attend to my every need, which was hard, but I didn't have any other choice. I literally could not walk, which meant there was very little I could do for myself. I promised that if my foot wasn't better in the morning, I'd let him take me to the emergency room. All the while, though, I believed that wouldn't be necessary, and that I could talk him out of it.

Only it was necessary. I have a fractured metatarsal, which still hurts like a motherfucker. Only now I have crutches, so I can at least get myself around while simultaneously getting all buff. This week, I need to make an appointment with the foot doctor, who will determine if a cast is necessary. I really hope it won't be, and that I'll be able to walk, even with a limp, soon.

Wii Fit keeps telling me my balance is getting better. I'm starting to think Wii Fit is a bit of a lying dick.

Adventures in Cohabitation

I'm more of a dirty hippie than a germaphobe. That said, there are things that gross me out. Like aspic. And toothbrush sharing.

So when TYM exited the bathroom recently and announced that he had accidentally used my toothbrush, I. Wanted. To. Die.

"Gross!" I exclaimed.

"Are you seriously grossed out?" he asked.

I responded with an emphatic yes. He then pointed out the obvious, which is that we had, in our two-years-plus relationship, shared things far more intimate than a toothbrush.

"I did not sign up for sharing bits of food stuck in your teeth!"

"Are you going to buy a new toothbrush now?"

"Maybe," I said. Then I remembered that I already had an extra toothbrush -- the one that I kept at his old place for pre-living-in-sin sleepovers. But how could I know that he had never accidentally used that one?

Yeah, I'm totally buying a new toothbrush.

Yes We Can! (Hopefully)

UPDATE: YES WE DID! And also, WTF California?