dash dogs

dash dogs in on rivington in the lower east side. it is pretty much awesome. have no fear, meat haters. they have those tofu dog things.

i highly recommend the avocado one. this ain't your ballpark frank.

you can feel like, real new york, like edgy, like wear your nike dunks and ride your bmx and listen justice on your ipod. wear something neon.

obligatory pic of me deep throating sausage to follow...






*dash dogs

is it summer again yet?

hey

hey. hi. how are you.

i have big tits and an good body. i am smart. i am funny. i am self depricating. i want kids. i don't want to be a bore. i like to travel. nay, i like to adventure. i look good in panty hose, heels, and a cocktail dress... as good as i look in jeans, a waffle tee and blundstones. my tastes are malleable; i like what people introduce me to. i think i am pretty much a dream girl.

applications accepted.

following are my profile pics. i couldn't decide. and it's my blog so i can put as many pictures of myself up as i want. because when i get bored, my favorite thing to to is read about myself. word.

P.M.S or depression?

UPDATE: jane told me it's the lunar eclipse that made me panic this night.

i feel rotton. i hate everyone. no, that's not true. i just feel rotton.



the feeling is compounded by my frustration with this blog. i started it, not thinking anyone would read it. told a few friends cause i thought it was funny. so did they. then, apparently, if you are looking for a place to eat in soho through google, my link pops up on page 2 or 3. so now i have a smattering of strangers who visit. none of that bothers me.

there are just a few people who i know read this that inhibit me. i mean, the fact that they read it forces me to censor what i say.

it was all good and well talking about cocks and dicks (i mean pricks, i mean assholes, i mean...you know...a person, not a genital), when i thought my parents weren't reading it. but i know they do. so how am i supposed to talk about wanting to walk into the fire department and be gang banged by the entire brigade to fuck the pain away and feel the saccharine version of love. you know they just did a study how saccharine tricks your body into thinking it is ingesting sugar, then when it eventually realizes it didn't get the real sugar it thought it did, it sends craving signals for even more and more sugar. this makes you fat. so basically if i fuck for fake love i'll get fat. or something.

i can't talk frankly about the boy, because he reads it. and his friends read it.

and i can't talk about my mental state because i run the risk of never having anyone want to procreate with me. which isn't fair. it's genetic predisposition. i am doing the best i can. in any case, babies should come from so much love for someone that it explodes into a child.

my point is....

SO ANNOYING.



see? now i have to say this: attention boy, i do not really want, nor would i ever, be gang banged by firemen. or any men. not that you care. or do you? i never know. (ugh. that confession makes it SO much less funny).

UPDATE: i can get gang banged by whomever i choose, because what the boy thinks is of no matter to me anymore.

SOOOOO BOOOOORED

i am so bored. i am so bored. i am so bored. just waiting for some stuff to get done here at work, then it'll get busy again. but for right now, i am so so so bored.

my stomach is blubbery, i am PMS-ing. i haven't had a BM since last thursday. it's probably all the junk food i eat.



going to st. maarten on saturday. i'm gonna go to the nude beach and have my sister take a picture of me just because. i'll be nude, of course. me and all the other fat ugly nude people because the only people on nude beaches are fat and ugly.

how telling of life these days: to find a therapist, i googled, yes GOOGLED "psychologist, 10014." it worked. i emailed three people, told them i am tough and usually abusive toward my therapists. we'll see if anyone bites.

i need something exciting in my life. the boy is exciting (yes. that boy. i don't care what anyone thinks.), but mostly only exciting on the weekends when he has time to share his excitingness with me. what about the rest of the week? work? i know. work. i just am ready for something to rock my world. maybe i'll die my hair pink. maybe i'll get hit by a taxi and break some bones. either one works for me.

i'm bored. i think the boredom is making me put on lbs.

ate a bacon lettuce and tomato sandwich on toasted whole wheat. i put mustard on it instead of mayo so i could save some calories. it was disgusting so i ate chocolate instead.



i have know idea how to diet.

fuck food. i want cute.

sometimes, you know...life isn't really want you want it to be. but then you see pure cuteness, and you just have to smile.

(what? what happened to my anger? who is this? where did you come from?)

raoul's

i may or may not have once bought drugs from a guy with the same name.

i also may or may not have had sex in the bathroom here.

but both of those may or may not have been AGES ago.



this place is an icon. they are klassy, accommodating if they know you, and the food is just impeccable. or however you spell it. (tool lazy to do the spell check thing on here)

went with my friend howard. poor howard. he was having a quiet dinner with his brother at pastis. but, just their luck, they sat next to me. after a good half hour of torturous questions, they finally capitulated and became my firends.



howard is great. he boxes. he is divorced and is still best friends with his ex-wife. he has similar patholigies to mine.

in the conversation tonight, i found out howard's girlfriend's age. everything changed. she is the same age as me. so now i see the whole relationship differently. i am an agist. sorry. (but that's the only -ist i am. i swear. what!? i listen to reggae AND i love chinese food.)

but come on, i listened to all the stories about this woman/girl, about how she was slowly trying to move in, but he didn't want it. about how she had promised him she didn't want children even though she didn't have any with her first marriage.

like, OF COURSE, totally normal for a 45 year old woman to not need kids, and OF COURSE, totally normal for him not to want to move in with a 45 year old woman after they both had failed marriages. who needs it? just have fun in your mid life crises sort of relationship!!

but 30? come on, howard. she is lying. she wants to live with you, she wants to marry you, she wants you to one day give in to having children with her. I KNOW. I AM 30. I HAVEN'T GIVEN UP THOSE DREAMS YET. (although, casey, if you are reading this, fuck you. this has nothing to do with you).

ANYWAY. food.

started off with oysters. good.

then salmon tartar. some sort of fancy prefix to the salmon, like, where they caught it....but who knows. good. served with little papadam chips--that was weird. lemon creme fresh--that wasn't necessary. and those huge, hideaous, fish egg things. roe? ugh...those are just gnarly.



jane and i split the steak au poivre, because you just have to when you're there. oh. my. god. it's like CRUSTED with pepper corns, and the chips are to die for. the actual steak is unreal. and if you read this blog ever, you know it takes a lot for me to eat cooked animal muscle.



we didn't have room for dessert.

but these ho's did. it's like a big helmet of spun sugar with a cake and a candle inside. howard was begging me to lie and say it was my birthday. but i was ready to puke up my meat so i just coudln't.



love you howard.

raoul's is on prince and sullivan.
*raoul's

duckies

could you die?



look how cute the duckies are! i want a duckie as a pet! i want to keep a duckie in my bathtub!

they follow you around and eat from your hand. they are adorable.

no more foi gras for me.

fruit tastes better

...anywhere other than america.

israel and south africa might have the sweetest fruit.

but then again, everything tastes better on the beach. especially mango.

crayfish round 2

here is crayfish, cooked thermadore style. it was a bigger one, so not as sweet. the best way to eat it is with your fingers.



dad had mussels. they are huge, and i love how they put just the right amount of cream sauce IN each shell, instead of the belgian way of having them float in soup.



mom had prawns with garlic sauce.




don't got nothing cheeky to say today.

crayfish round 1

this lunch is at an old school restaurant called hildebrand's. um, german name, italian food. sort of. now, if you can remember, south africa used to be, well...different. like, my nanny had to have a permission pass from my grandparents to walk alone in town. and room and board was considered payment for work. don't shoot the messenger. but that is just how it was and no one really thought anything of it.

well, during this "period" everything was very proper and british. tea in the afternoons. lunch tables had sterling silverwear and linens and stemware. waiters knew your name and watched your children grow up and called your sir and madam. you couldn't get something vile like a burger unless you went to a "wimpy's"--there were no mcdonalds because of sanctions.

anywho. since things...changed, the vintage restaurants have mostly disappeared. replaced with much more casual dining. but hildebrand's is still there. the same waiters with bowties. the same menu. the same yes sir attitude. they make you feel like a special queen and boy do i love it.

a crayfish is a lobster without pinchers.



this is what you eat in cape town. it's prepared in a variety of ways. i can't remember the proper name for this way, but it is boiled, then grilled with garlicky bread crumbs spread all over it. these are two small little critters. i personally think smaller is better. more tasty. this applies STRICTLY to seafood. not to meat. i like big, thick, meatier meats. in south africa, the lobster is served with rice or fresh chips (thickly sliced soggy fries), and garlic butter, lemon butter, and peri peri sauce (spicy oil). my. god. is. it. good.



here is my mom. she is eating vienna schniztel. also delicious. we're both having champagne. i don't really know who we think we are...but i'll take a lobster and champagne lunch by the marina any day.

silly wonka

south african nerds

cape town

hi there. been a while. in cape town. in my grandparents house that we renovated and now it's a sick, sick multi million dollar beach house with views of mountains and oceans from every window, north south east and west.

but this is how i feel.



cause my parents fight and call each other names and it makes me lose my appetite and that is why i can't ever get married. again.

hee hee hee haw, haw, haw

this is funny. i wore my french striped shirt to dinner. found a pre packaged chocolate crepe at whole foods on the way home. like a french version of a fruit roll up?? got home, grew a moustache.



and then realized i had a pet french poodle.



isn't life great?

i'm back, bitches

i ate somewhere tonight that made me totally happy. a little french place.

i am not telling you where it is. if you want to know you have to email me for the name.

it's tiny. it's authentic. it's cool.

the wine is served full to the brim in a tiny little glass and i think they keep filling it up when you aren't looking. there are 4 reds, 4 whites, 1 rose, and 1 champagne to choose from. genius. because seriously, who gives a fuck about wine THAT much. and if you do, you aren't my friend--cause i know you are lying.




the bread is so good. it's not that bubbly, soury, hard bread that they serve you EVERYwhere in manhattan. that shit comes from tom kat bakery. the silver vans with a black cat logo that you see all around town. their bread sucks. attention restaurateurs: cool truck and cool logo does not equal yummy bread. this place toasts the baguet-ish so it's warm when it arrives at your plate and just a tiny crispy on the outside. the butter is delish (hello, rachel ray. gross) and salty and room temperature so it spreads and doesn't damage your slice.



i had lentils. i actually watched the guy take my lentils and mix them up with all the spices and vinegar and stuff. it came in a big bowl like the one french onion soup comes in. it was cold and amazing. the best lentils i have ever had. they weren't mushy or too crunchy, if lentils were pasta, then these were al dente. friend had coque au vin. watched him make the whole thing from scratch. i was blown away. other friend had tagliateli carbonara. we all shared french fries that tasted like french french fries. you know, that subtle difference that makes them awesome? vive le diference!!





seriously. this place is incredible. TINY. two tables and 6 seats at the bar. the owner is tres french, wears a scarf and has a pointy moustache. but it's natural. not forced. for info, just ask. clue: in the lower east side.

BEST PART: they only take cash and american express. it's like i died and went to heaven. a cramped, dark, smelly heaven.

UPDATE! ran into my friend mike simmonds there. really weird cause he was alone and, like i said, the place is tiny. he is a cinematographer for the award winning film "MAN PUSH CART." word up, mike.

fuck you all

i need to vent-ilate. fuck you to the following people:

1) to the chinese guys riding their bikes on the sidewalk--sideWALK you fuck--even though there are no cars on the street, there is a bike lane, and OH JEEZ IT"S FUCKING ILLEGAL. and what, am i supposed to make room for you as you pass? go fuck yourself.

2) to the extra holiday employees at mid range fashion stores like club monaco, j.crew, or intermix. why do three of you gather together and scream and laugh like there are no customers in the store? "oooh, girl you KNOW she gon make you work late.." "nah, bitch i be like fuck that! i already stocked all them new spring collections" heelllo! do you have this in a small? what the fuck are they paying you for? this isn't a fucking cafeteria to gab in.

3) to the polish guy at CHO'S DELI ON CARMINE AND BEDFORD. yes you, with your fat shiny shaved head. i have known you for 2 years. tonight i stand there with a pack of sour patch kids for at least an entire minute while you recant to your buddy a story of someone hitting your car which inludes more explitives than i knew existed and more fucks per second than i thought possible. i know it's new york but i am still a lady and still a patron of your store. and when i fucking pull your chain for having a dirty mouth IN JEST, the last thing i need is for you to shoot me a look of death telling me to mind my own business, and who asked me. (i told him to chill the fuck out and recognize sarcasm, and i thought we were friends...but i don't think he knew what sarcasm meant. therefor this friendship is over. dick. i wasted all those smiles and pleases and thank you's. ugh, i knew i shouldn't be nice.)

that's all. this may have broken my seal...more posts to come.

adrien fantasy

last night i had a dream that adrien grenier and i were smitten with each other and kept trying to find a place to make out in this club.

if anyone knows him, can you please send him this message:

byte

that skinny trangle place on bleecker and lafayette.

here is the soup i got



here is how it tasted.



it's claims to be lentil, so i was imagining a hearty puree. it was not, it was more like dishwater with some stuff floating in it. from what i can identify, here are the ingredients.

carrots
corn
celery
chick peas
lentils
onions
mushrooms

it's a little weird, that combination, don't you think so?

it was hot, wet, and salty, three things all soups should be at the very least.

paid with a mastercard. whatev's.