scott's lobster dock

now listen, i don't wanna fucking hear it. i went to new london to hang out with my ex and my ex kid and his fam and i had a great time. don't email me about it, don't call me about it, don't even look at me.

continue...

boy do i love new london. it's the exact opposite of manhattan. small buildings, empty streets, fat people, everyone's got kids and they're younger than me, big shiny new plastic cars, ice cream trucks that aren't mr. softee, seagulls, new england accents, smiles, motorcyclists on hogs with no helmets, i just LOVE it.

i've spent enough time there that i feel like it's one of my homes. i know exactly how many miles it takes to get there, and how long i'll be in the car, and which mcdonalds service station to stop off at if i need to, and my way around town. i even know shortcuts.

here is the beach. it's private. you have to belong to a coop to sit on it, hence it's perfectly clean sand. it's like the land that time forgot.



there are two places to eat. muddy waters for breakfast and lunch on bank street. and then there's scott's lobster dock.





normally we get 3 things: hot lobster roll, cold lobster roll, and boiled potatoes for the child. (it's not as punishment, he is a very picky vegetarian).




but as i was waiting in line, i keep eyeing things other people are picking up from the window. so, since i never know the next time i'll talk to my host family again will be, i decide to order everything i want. just in case.

don't you look at me that way, i'm doing it.

and they take amex!

oh, no.

oh, no. i think i forgot something, something good.

perfect.

inside the belly of the beast.

oh, yes. oh. yes.

we did a little damage. my fingers still smell like crab.

hoorah for NL!

hoorah for candice!

bloody thighs

today i was riding on a wet bicycle seat. sounds hot right? not really. not when your wearing a dress and your ass is wet and your thighs are chafing with every push of the peddle.

why does this matter, you ask? isn't this bolg about stories revolving around food, you wonder? well, hold up. here's why it's significant.

i walk dowstairs to get a cup of strong, steaming hot coffee from the little food-shop-in-a-spa downstairs. the sign said closed, but the operating hours are 9:30am to 7pm. it was now 10:20am. this would normally piss my off, but now i was pissed and panicky cause it meant walking all the way to the end of the block, and halfway down another to the deli for weak, luke warm coffee. and every step i took burned. i needed vaseline like a marathon runner.

so now i sit, with my legs spread, drinking room temp sour coffee, cursing irresponsible cafes. that's all.



some notes on the drawing:

this could either be a 12 year old with green pubes and her first period.
or
me with a wishful thinking hip measurement and an ouchie.

chili as a reward

i went to the gym today. that's two days in a row and 3 days this week.

so i deserved chili from jone's. with cheese. and sour cream. and a coke. (oh boy, i am really bad at this). they were really excited to see me.

who reads this thing?

following is copied from the comments on my fresco taco post. hilarious.

dr. taco said...
The NY/NJ triads take their cut straight off the top. There is no quality control. Dogs, cats, rats and whatever else happens to be around will wind up in your taco, not to mention the fact that those places take USDA grade c and below meat (usda rankings a joke anyway, they riot about our beef imports in other countries) but since I see on your blog that you eat mcdonalds I understand why my friendly exhortation would fall onto deaf ears. Can I get my taco with a side of hormones? Thanks.

Dr. Taco

7/10/08 6:21 PM


concerned citizen said...
Don't trust this Dr. Taco. He's not even a doctor. He hardly made it through Taco undergrad.

gym stalker

ugh, my friend sent me this picture this morning.



that was me a few weeks after my first divorce. that long hair! that skinny face! i was wearing high heels! i've really let myself go. i gotta realize i can't eat chinese mexican food and ever look that good again.

now i'm gonna go to the gym to actually work out, not just to stalk my hot ex. yep. gotta get hot to find ex husband number two.

meeting howard for lunch today at the spotted pig. oh, brother. gonna be tough to stay away from that burger. and that chopped liver on toast, mmmm...

wow that was a long break

fresh tortillas
fresco taco
fresco tortilla tacos

any variation, it's all the same. i was really upset when i first moved to nyc and ate at one of these places. but over the years, i've come to accept that it's not mexican food and i shouldn't hold it up to those standards. it's in a class of its own, and it's not that bad.

i am cashless, so i had to order 10 bucks worth of food for credit card usage, which is hard when the most expensive thing i ordered was 3.25.

1 black bean soft taco (black beans on a tortilla)
1 black bean hard taco (black beans, cheddar cheese, tomatoes, lettuce in a crispy taco shell)
1 fajita steak guacamole (sliced steak, onions, some avocado saucey stuff on a tortilla)
1 fajita steak nachos (didn't even open the box, so i don't know)
1 root beer.
$11





so good. really, it is so good. except i gave the steak stuff to my dog. she seemed to like it.

jerk

lunch was jerky. and lots of erasure sing a longs.

anyone want to eat with me tomorrow?

x

rockaway taco

so this guy who was born in new york, but then moved to toronto, then lived in puerto vallarta for 3.5 years opened up a taco stand in rockaway on 96th street.



the menu looked good. it was supposed to open at noon, but at 12:30 he said to come back in ten minutes to order. so we came back in ten minutes, ordered, and then waited 45 minutes for our tacos.



i normally wouldn't care cause it was a beach day, but i missed out on an hour and a half of perfect suntanning. although, anything is better than a fucking slice of pizza or mexican/chinese food (you know the places i'm talking about: quesadillas or stir fry, same kitchen).

in any case. we had tofu tacos, fish tacos (beer battered talapia), and chorizo tacos. i ordered chips and guacamole and he actually cut up corn tortillas and fried them. i watched him make the guacamole himself. pretty impressive. it was cheap and good and made you forget about the projects behind you.

there can never be enough pictures of hot rob. come pose for a picture rob, no a little closer. closer. damnit rob, touch my shoulder with your rock hard abs! thaaat's nice.

what if i was a gossip blog

i saw kate hudson at cafe henri. with an assistant who was more like a baby sitter. little ryder was so fucking cute eating his scrambled wggs while his "mother" sat there texting for at least 1/2 an hour straight. fucking cunt. i'm sure she doesnt see her little boy that often and the assistant said more to him than she did. plus she wore her glasses the whole time.

i lost all respect for her that day. if i had a boy as cute as ryder, i wouldn't be able to take my eyes off him.

so sad.

do the rockaway

ahhh, the anti-hamptons.

i love it here! it smells like the ocean, and the guys are super hot and super nice. plus, there"s the place called THIS NAME HAS BEEN REDACTED BECAUSE I DON'T WANT THEM TO GET BUSTED CAUSE THE SITUATION IS TOO AWESOME. i like to call it ..."s (but apparently thats some discount department store?}) anyway. they let you wander out with their frozen pina coladas in styrophome cups.

i lurve rockaway.

gay pride is a comin'

since i don't have a house in the hamptons (thank god.) i need to take advantage of any suntanning opportunity i can.



hudson river park. in the grass. kinda nice. but what the fuck is this guy doing?



i assume he is practicing for the parade. i wish i had gotten a picture of the other guy next to me in A LEOPARD THONG BATHING SUIT. or the guy on the bench with a face lift and eyeliner doing pretend sit ups for 20 minutes straight. or voice recording of the skinny thai guy on the phone to his boyfriend. and how come all the guys call each other "girl"?

of course, there were a smattering of straight couples and groups of hot girls. but the flag guy just really took the cake. i was there for 2 hours. he was dancing before i got there and he was dancing when i left.

typical new york

overpriced food
salvation army homeless shelter
empire state building

the nicole sandwich

nicole made this sandwich in montauk the other week. simple, yes. delicious, you bet.

roast turkey and swiss with mustard and mayonnaise.
the deli fucked up and put lettuce on, which i didn't ask for. but you know, they work at a deli so you can't expect perfection.

tea and sympathy

i'm sorry, but look at this.


it's beautiful. james macevoy could have his erect cock in my face and i'd still rather put these beans in my mouth.

perfect heinz baked beans from a perfect turquoise tin. fuck tiffany's blue box. i want heinz's blue tin.

i'll fart for days without care just knowing that i tasted such canned food goodness.

that said, this place and it's rules is so unbelievable i can't even explain. ok, i'll try. follow me if you can.

candice: table for 3 please
cockney skank: ok got it
...5 minutes later
candice: sorry its 4 now
cockney skank: ok, no problem
...5 minutes later
cockney skank: party of 4?
candice: shoot, he's not here. i guess just 3.
cockney skank: ok, come in
(cockney skank seats us at a 4 top)
candice: oh good, there's a seat in case he comes
cockney skank: oh, then i'll seat you over here, because we can't have any late arrivals.
(cockney skank points to a tiny table with 3 chairs around it. not enough legroom for crickets, let alone 3 grown women)
candice: oh, no. that's too small. we'll sit here at the bigger table
cockney skank: no, we can't have late arrivals so i'll sit the other party of 3 here.
candice: no. if your going to sit 3 here anyway, we'll take it because it's more comfortable.
cockney skank: fine.
(cockney skank proceeds to carry the 4th chair at our table OUTSIDE THE RESTAURANT to the sidewalk and removes the place setting to ensure we understand that absolutely no one can join us.)

grrr. but the coffee is good and so is the tea and i personally love the food. farts and all. skanks and all. then i go next door for some wine gums. thats a candy, and it don't get you drunk.

tea and sympathy

morgan library

another blind date. he is totally hot, we both dressed up. he wore seersucker, i wore a skirt.

we decided to do a little country clubish lunch at the morgan library. table for two, please.

we had iced tea, naturally. i ordered a smoked chicken salad, and he ordered a lobster salad. and then we waited. and watied. and waited. and fidgeted and waited.


we waited so long that we went into conversations one normally has on date 2! let's just say i wouldn't be surprised by much if i ran into him in bed.

finally, our waiter in a weird beige uniform jacket that was way too big and made him look uncomfortable and homeless, came over and told us there was a paper jam in the kitchen, and our order will be out shortly. luckily i wasn't in the mood to bitch, though torrey and i both gave dirtly looks and snarled under our breath.

when his salad arrived, torrey looked a little sad. just one piece of claw meat? how dare they?! but he found more under each layer of lettuce. nice save, morgan library.




we joked that the reason our food took so long wasn't cause of a paper jam, but because they ran out of boars head deli meat for my salad. (this joke would be funny if you could actually see that the chicken in my chicken salad wasn't chunks of chicken, but rather thinly sliced breat meat, but like deli breast meat. i had to have been deli meat. i just had to).

it was really good though. they gave us free dessert for our troubles. quite ironic since at least ten minutes of our conversation was spent bitching about our stomach fat. thank god my gelato sucked. i didn't eat it. his pinapple tart tasted like barbq.




all in all, though, a very pleasant lunch. next time torrey and i will go to something more rough around the edges so we can really loosen up.

thanks for lunch torrey!

a new post is coming. just a little lazy today. and yesterday.

pinche taco

when my friend adan told me that there was a new taco place called "pinche" i just about snarfed my sprite through my nose. how awesome. fucking taco. now if only a chocha churros opened up next door, my life would be complete.

i went on a blind blogger date. could it get any light-me-on-fire-dorkier than that? nope. don't think so. he has a blog called "lost taco". poor joshy lost his taco. he can't have mine. my coochie remains in the gucci name. he just moved here from southern california and i guess no one told him that good mexican food doesn't exist in new york city. he is on a hunt though, more luck to him.



the first thing my eyes zone in on is the modelo especial in a can. now this is interesting.



i order one taco al pastor and one taco carne asada.

corn tortilla? check
greasy wet meat? check
chopped onions? check
chopped cilantro? check
juicy lime wedge? check

plus a tiny bit of guac and salsa. OH. goodness. it was good.

he had the fish taco, i've never been a fan but he swore it was up to par.

the dude who owns the place has another pinche taco in tijuana, or TJ as he affectionately calls it. but here you won't get a knife pulled on you. although, with the economy...

i will go back. for sure. fer sher, dude.

pinche tacos
lost taco

shorts!

wednesday. it has to be wednesday. i already have a lunch date for tuesday.

(yes, i am attempting to finally meet shorts)

fun with photobooth

i did, in fact, go out tonight. but i still have no tv, so i keep myself occupied until i pass out.

corner (i just threw up in my mouth) bistro

whoever declared corner bistro as a good burger spot is on crack. because when you're on crack you don't have an appetite, so you wouldn't actually eat that ground rat meat shitty ass burger, so you wouldn't know. how gross. it is.

speaking of crack.

crack is a drug. you can be addicted to it. crack addicts need interventions. crack makes you feel good and you choose to not consider the consequences of taking it. you could stay off crack for months and then when you see it again, you forget or choose to forget that it kills you slowly and makes you feel rotten on the inside.

crack for me, of course, is the boy. don't ask. but like a fucking crackhead, i went there. it was more like someone dropped a dime bag in a hand-cut crystal box on my doorstep, with candles all around and flower petals. it was inviting, kind, safe, it didn't seem dangerous at all. i had beaten crack before, so maybe i could handle a taste.

of course, the crack always wins. and leaves your system empty, your stomach hurting and you rocking on the floor like a baby.

i guess that is why recovery is a life long thing. one day at a time. and one should remember that just because 3 months goes by, it doesn't mean you're sober.

crack kills!

pinkberry.

i actually really don't like pinkberry. there. i said it.

and now for something a little different...

lunch with claire

today i had lunch with claire. i met her through my ex husband/boyfriend/fuck. (and our relationship went in that order. clearly backwards we were.)



we went to gemma and she told me about her dietary limitations. she's not only vegetarian, but she also eats according to her blood type. something about chemistry blah blah blah. "wow" i was thinking. "what a nut job" (just kidding claire, this is all for effect). but then she stood up at the end of lunch and her body is slamming and now, as i eat my left over PF CHANGS that i brought all the way across state line, i am a little more curious about this chemical bloody eating club of hers....hmmmm.....

i had an eggplant and tomato panini. whatevs. she had, actually, i don't even remember what she had. artichoke somethig?



we gabbed about boys and how to manipulate them. something that clearly she and i aren't good at seeing as we are both single.

i meant on purpose. single on purpose.

on the dessert menu, i saw this. i'm not gonna say outright what i think it was. claire said to think of it abstractly as "crud." right, crud that came out of a little rodents poo hole.



had one scoop of pomegranite sorbet. grody. syrupy. like a fancy but untasty snow cone with no cone so kinda like nothing like that.



claire is funny. we shall dine together again. except next time it will be dark outside and there will be a lot less food and a lot more booze.

lunch with claire