"Dancing At Her Funeral"

There are only a few things these days that really make me smile!!! I kicked a little cash into The Limousine's Kickstarter project for their upcoming album and this is how they are thanking their fans on Social Network Unnamed!!!!

YIPPERS!!

A heart and FOUR exclamation marks....that's some dope shit right there!! ;-)

Tid Bits

I haven't had a lot of cake action recently, which I'm, admittedly, a little grateful for because the free time has allowed me to do all the doctor appointments and various other things I've been wanting to do for months. I have a gorgeous new art project that's about to go up on my other blog. I've written a bunch of reviews that my other gig has been asking me to get to. For copyright reasons, I was told I couldn't publish them on my own, which is fine because it was getting a little redundant anyway.

I figured I would do a little update.

On tonight's "Long Island Medium" episode, she went out to Sky Dive Long Island, where my buddy Margaret and I did our Dirty 30 Jump during our year of Firsts. Let me just say right now that I don't subscribe to the whole medium/psychic thing. I'm sure there are people out there who are a lot more sensitive to the supernatural world beyond what we mortals can see and hear, but I doubt that those people would be charging whatever it is most of these people charge per hour.

With that being said, Margaret texted me to tell me to watch tonight because they were filming at our Sky Dive spot AND the restaurant out there that we went to a couple of times. She wanted me to see if they filmed anyone we knew. Well, as luck would have it, Margaret's tandem jumper Duncan was on the show and he was strapped to the psychic's husband's back. We didn't know anyone from the restaurant but we recognized the place well enough and she ended up doing a reading on the general manager rather than the actual restaurant.

Anyway, here are some blasts from the pasts to brighten up a sullen Sunday night:

Margaret and Duncan

Me & Willie (this because my free-fallin' shot is over done)

Two of the happiest people on the planet!!

 Goddammit it; look how skinny I was!!!!!

Speaking of Margaret, I was always talking to her about this Indie flick I caught one night at 3am. I had missed the beginning, but I saw most of the movie and found it one of the most thought-provoking, insightful movies I have ever seen. Talk about a rollercoaster shitstorm! Anyway, if you're every bored and want a good recommendation, go torrent "The Guitar". It's fucking awesome but in a quiet understated way.

It took me nearly 3 years to find the name. I got lucky tonight and stumbled on it. =)

Flashback

11 Years and approximately 3 weeks ago, this is what I looked like! So young and skinny...able to drink and eat whatever I wanted!! All those women in the picture with me were all my age now. And they all still look amazing in their 40's while I have ballooned to enormous proportions. In that 11 years, I haven't done anything as flighty as that Hawaii trip and I would give anything if I could pull out the Flux Capasitor and travel back to that time. Yes, I'd be saddled with a shitty husband, but I swear I'd be smarter; less emotional; less scared to kick him the fuck out. If I could go back to that trip, at that time, I'd be more prepared for what was about to happen after that trip, and how it would effect the rest of my life and the choices I made.

This was taken in September of 2001 at a luau during our last night in Kawaii, Hawaii. We flew back to Los Angeles and spent a couple of days with our friend before flying home the night of September 10, 2011 on United from Los Angeles to New York.

What  I wouldn't give to look like that again......

I'm in the yellow dress!!!

Don't

Well, hell! I've been doing it all wrong all this time!!!

What are some of the things you do to add to your misery or overall discontent? Are these bad habits ingrained in us or is it possible to change the knee-jerk reactions we have all come to accept within ourselves?

"Don't promise when you are happy."
This is simple. Ever remember yourself telling someone you were going to love them "forever"? I do! Usually after a 3 hour session of blissfull, sweaty, insanely-passionate DNA swapping. It's easy to want to give someone or promise someone the world when you are content and generally feeling pretty damn good about them. Try promising those same things after catching them in bed with someone else, finding out they just stole $500 from you, or processing that their ex is pregnant with their baby. Still feeling good about making those same promises? Yeah, I didn't think so. Anyway, we all know that kind acts should be KIND ACTIONS, and not just Kind Words. If you really want to do something good because you feel good; then just do it. You shouldn't regret being kind to someone, even if they turn out to be complete assholes at the end of the day. Save the good deed in the Karmic Bank and forget about it. You'll get your comeuppance when the time is right. When you promise something, you're giving your word, and putting your integrity on the line.Your word is only as good as your last broken promise...no matter how good the reason is for you to break it.

"Don't reply when you are angry."
Guilty, again! I'm notorious for my quick temper and even quicker pressing of the "reply" button- be it via text or email or voicemail or face-to-face retort. I've had some regrets in my day for letting my hurt and rage reply to someone instead of letting my cooler head prevail. The thing is; usually we are hurt the deepest by those we truly love and sometimes the pain can cause that knee to jerk up higher and harder to bash those fuckers in the balls faster than you can stop yourself. Underneath it all, no one wants to hurt someone they love. And if you think about it, you have all the ammo to do it. It doesn't make it right. I've learned to TRY and walk away when my temper is threatening to unleash Hell. I've destroyed plenty of relationships and obliterated countless bridges with my temper, only to see myself tearfully trying to make an apology for it later on. But, the thing is, even though it was RIGHT for those relationships to end, I didn't need to do it with all the nuclear forces my heart has been hoarding. When you're done eating, you take your dishes to the sink, wash them off, and put them away. You don't smash them into bits and pieces in a violent declaration that "I'M DONE EATING MOTHER FUCKER!!!!!!" See the difference? There is a way to handle situations that don't involve telling people what kind of infectious disease you think they are or how you hope their testicles get fried on a live wire in the seat heater of their car. You can THINK it, but why put that poison to paper in the heat of the moment? This is the one I take to heart the hardest- Don't snap back in anger.

"Don't decide when you are sad."
I had to think about this one for a moment. In my case, I've made some of the best decisions while taking a vacation in the pits of depression. I've purged many items, tossing out stupid mementos and keepsakes that were only taking up room and shackling me to my sadness. I think sometimes people do brash things in the midst of emotional turmoil. I've had more than one bad haircut because I was desperate to shed the skin of woe. I guess it means to have your cry, wait it out, and think with a clear head before doing anything too harsh or deciding on any major decisions. When it's all over, you don't want to have a house full of junk, an empty bank account, and a wallet full of maxed out credit cards- all because you tried to buy your sadness away. Or maybe they mean that in the midst of sadness, one can be fairly apathetic to anything. "What do you want to eat today?" I don't care. "What colors should we paint the rooms?" Whatever. "Do you want to move to Jersey or Canada?" Doesn't matter. You decide. I guess I've fallen into this rut, too. All in all, I think this part just means to not let your depression route your map for you. That's the best I can do with that one.

One of my favorite sayings when I read something I need to apply to my own life is: "I should have that tattooed on me somewhere."

If that's the case, I'd have a body full of tattooed post-it notes!

Validation

Not that true validation can really come from a social network app, but here you go.

All I have to say is; I knew it all along!

My Kind of Porn

I have a deep, almost scary crush on Stanley Tucci. He isn't the typical RDJ sexiness, but there is something stylized about him which drives me absolutely wild. Could it be his sexual ambiguity? (He's a newly married man, btw...to a woman.) Maybe his aloofness which carried over from one character to another. A gay fashion director in "The Devil Wears Prada" or an effeminate father in "Easy A" or a child pedophile in "The Lovely Bones" or the not-so-typical bureaucratic asshole in "The Terminal": he plays all those roles well, but he's still distinctly Stanley Tucci. Don't even get me started on his role in "The Hunger Games". I could absolutely eat him alive!!!! (Let's not forget his role in "Captain America", either!)

Anyway, besides Bourdain, who is NY's resident pirate chef badass, I think Eric Ripert is my choice as one of the best NY chef's. If I ever win the lottery, I think I would gorge myself at his restaurant first...if I can get a reservation!

Anyway, Eric has a new web series on you tube, and I happened to see it on Social Network Unnamed that he had Stanley Tucci on!

If my love of these two men ever needed validation; I found it!

Hangry

I'm not sure I've posted this word yet, but never the less, here it is:

I was just writing about this on the other blog. I am notoriously bitchy when I am not able to sate my appetite. Not just bitchy....I mean; BITCHY. I'm rude, selfish, and unabashedly immature. It's terrible how bad my mood changes when my stomach is growling.

I wish I knew a better way to cope, but seriously, this condition has not changed since I was a kid. Like I've also written in the other blog, I am pretty lucky to have been in relationships with men who went above and beyond most of the time when the Hangry Bird came resting on my shoulder. Seriously, these men deserve Nobel Peace Prizes for doing half they stuff they did when the look on my face and the tone of my voice implied that the bitch was coming.

Hangry: a state of anger caused by lack of food; hunger causing a negative change in emotional state.

It really is real. See? I'm not alone!

A Matter of Perspective

Remember that last minute wedding I wrote about last week? The woman was trying to entice me to give her credit terms with the promise of "professional" pictures of my cupcakes were going to be taken on HER cupcake tower.

I have my own cupcake tower. My original tower was retired after someone snapped the stem. Eventually, Wilton came out with one of their own and it turned out to be a lot sturdier than my old one was. I am more wary about lending that one out because it is a lot pricier than the first tower I had. In fact, the first tower is no longer being made. I am wiser after the first one was ruined. I'm a lot more careful with the new one.

Since this woman insisted she had it all set up and only needed cupcakes, I didn't bother offering my own tower. She paid me in cash, as she said she would, and emailed to tell me they were delicious and all her guests loved every bite.

Then she sent me the picture.

Oh. My. Golly.

Well, thank goodness I don't put much weight on promises people make to me. Professional? Not quite. I later found out that her best friend was a baker and charged $3 per cupcake. I'm assuming she wasn't about to cut her a break on the price. Mine were NOT that pricey. I already had the feeling she was on a budget and after seeing this picture, I knew I was right.

No, this isn't going up on my website, but it just proves to me that I was right.....AGAIN.

• This is not a professional picture.
• This is not a cupcake tower. This is a 3-tier staggered cake stand. (I have one of these, too.)
• She was on a VERY tight budget.
• She was thankful for the work I did, but I know she doesn't realize what kind of break I cut her.
• She most certainly DID NOT refrigerate those cupcakes like I told her to do.
• Despite all my belly-aching, I know I did the right thing.

Non-Load Bearing

Ok, I know I've been going a little nuts with my health posts, but I just got another blow to my fragile frame again today.

I learned a long time ago that the first injuries a chef suffers in a kitchen is either cutting themselves or burning themselves. Luckily, I've never suffered a bad cut. Maybe a few small nicks, but nothing to send me to the ER like some of my other chef buddies have done. I just don't cut fast enough to not pay attention to where my fingers are...that's not really a GOOD thing in the kitchen, but I'm not a big fan of stitches and I'd rather get yelled at for being slow than being yelled at for bleeding all over the food.

I've been burned. A lot of my old school burns have healed up nicely over the years and you can't even see most of them anymore. Most of my burns were on my hands and wrists- reaching into a hot oven with nothing but a kitchen towel. Real kitchen don't use pot holders. (Just an FYI for you there.)

The third, most devastating injury a chef can suffer in the kitchen is slow and silent. It's their feet.

They drilled it into our heads even before stepping into the kitchen that we needed to come dressed right. Sneakers wouldn't cut it. The shoes needed to be hard- to protect your toes and the tops of your feet from a falling knife. I've seen a knife fall tip-down and straight into a chef's foot. The only thing that stopped it from being a complete skewer was the hard leather of the clog. The tip went through and just nicked the top of his foot. If he was wearing Nike's, that knife wouldn't gone through his foot like butter and embedded itself into the kitchen floor.

It took me several months to break my clogs in. I went home after a long 8 hour shift on my feet at the school aching the entire way. Joel usually have one of my ped-covered feet in his lap as he drove us back to Queens. I guess I was lucky in that sense. Other people have to walk and take the subway after being on their feet all day or all night long. I had an air-conditioned ride home every single night, and a foot rub to boot!

Once my clogs were nice and molded to my foot- let me explain this process. A clog is a perfectly designed shoe for someone on their feet all day long. I am talking about a CLOG, not a CROCK. Please keep those piece of shit plastic whatevers far away from me. A good clog is made of leather. It's perfectly inclined just enough to relieve of the strain on the foot, the calf, the Achilles tendon, the leg, and the spine. The inside is not some soft squishy material that will soak up bacteria and stink to high heaven. No, it's leather. And as long as you're wearing socks (Yes, there are some dirty fuckers who go barefoot...EWW!) it's pretty damn resistant to odor. The force of your foot in the clog, combined with the heat of your foot wearing it night after night molds that hard leather inside to perfectly hug the curves if your entire sole- the heel, the arch, the pad, and even the toes.  But, to get to that point, you have months of achy feet coming out of a hard leather clog.

I wore my clogs to every catering gig I did. Sneakers really didn't cut it. Not only would my feet hurt after a couple of hours, but my back started to ache like a screaming Banshee, too. After moving again, I lost track of my clogs and my back and feet have not been the same since.

Sometime last year, I noticed my feet were aching a lot more than usual and were not feeling any better even after a rest and a hot soak. As time went on, I would wake up and not be able to walk on my left foot. I bought insoles- expensive one's- and they were not helping.

I know my support-less Chucks were not helping the situation but I've been wearing them so long I couldn't imagine what my outfit would be like without looking own and seeing one of my 21 pairs smiling back at me from below. It got so bad, I started throwing out my worn out shoes. Old Nikes, the Black Chucks, the Gray Chucks, the Navy Blue Chucks....I said goodbye to them all. Still, my left foot continued to give me problems.

I finally went to a podiatrist earlier today. As soon as she saw my shoes she shook her head and said, "No more." WHAT?!?!?!?! Even with insoles?? Even with insoles- she told me.

Well, it's a combo of many things, she told me. The shoes were one factor, but the fast weight gain over the year has been the biggest factor. My poor little feet just can't handle the extra 20 lbs I heaped on those little guys. My arch is collapsed. I have a heel spurt and some extreme inflammation in that area. My right foot is starting to show the same symptoms.

So, she stuck a pair of heel cups in my shoes. She wrote my a script for an anti-inflammatory, and I have to go get an X-ray sometime this week to make sure I don't have any stress fractures or breaks.

The bottom line is: "You're not doing yourself any favors staying at this weight. It's not natural for your body. You put it on very rapidly. And the problem will travel from your feet, up your legs, and into your spine. You need to lose the weight.....but you have to stay off your feet until we can get them painless again. Stop eating. Get an exercise plan in place. And buy a dress you're gonna want to fit into. The motivation will do wonders. LOSE THE WEIGHT!"

I have never felt like such a fat piece of shit before in my entire life. Not only am I chunky and not sexy anymore, but now my body is breaking because of it. This fucking sucks. I really hate myself right now....and I'm really hungry.

I'm not going to eat though...The kitchen is downstairs and my feet hurt too much to walk all the way down there. Lazy ass.

"In and Out of Time"

I woke up in the middle of the night, well, to be honest, like an hour after fell asleep after getting home from a very busy, alcohol fueled day. And for some reason, this poem was whispering in my head. I had to think to remember where I heard it before, and I realized it was from one of the first Tyler Perry movies I've ever seen.

Yes, a Tyler Perry movie is one of those love it or hate it genres. I don't care if his plots do follow the same formula every time, I find them fascinating to watch. The subject matters are pretty raw; things that your typical vanilla audiences will not relate to or enjoy. I'm glad I'm not vanilla. ;-)

Well, here's the poem. I don't know what the significance is of thinking about this poem, but it felt important. Hopefully, I figure it out before work on Tuesday,

In and Out of Time
~Maye Angelou

The sun has come

The mists have gone

We see in the distance our long way home

I was always yours to have

You were always mine

We have loved each other in and out of time

When the first stone looked up at the blazing sun

And the first tree struggled up from the forest floor

I have always loved you more

You freed your braids, gave your hair to the breeze

It hung like a hive of honey bees

I reached in the mass for the sweet honeycomb there

God, how I loved your hair

You saw me bludgeoned by circumstance

Lost, injured, hurt by chance

I screamed to the heavens

Loudly screamed

Trying to change our nightmares into dreams

The sun has come

The mists have gone

We see in the distance our long home

I was always yours to have

You were always mine

We loved each other in and out,

in and out, in and out of time