glutton for punishment

i wish i could say i stick to the never returning to a bad restaurant thing, but seriously? in new york? who has the time.

GEMMA. again. why do i do this to my taste buds/bowels?

off of an 11" x 14" menu, there was literally only one thing i could stomach stomaching.



you know what that is? egg. mayonnaise. white bread (no crusts). kind of hard to fuck that one up, no?

i ate half of it. the other half found it's way all over my face and then i rubbed the rest on my tits while the other al fresco diners watched in horror. or amazement. or probably jealousy that i was such a wild, uninhibited soul while saying to each other, "tee hee, oh my. only in new york city, dear! only in new york! i told you staying on the bowery would be fun! every one is just so free here!"





and to wash it all down, a home made sprite. lemon, lime, soda, and a sugar cube. we invented it. it's pretty.



the sandwich was $7. no idea how much anything else there is.

this is fuk'd

i went to the waverly inn tonight.

soraya looked hot...(i am not really gay, soraya is my partner and best friend. but not a GAY PARTNER. like, a business partner. look, i know how is looks, but you have to trust me.)



i schmoozed with:
demi moore
lucy liu
bahz lurman
puff daddy (p.diddy?)
larry gagosian

and when i say schmoozed, i mean i spoke to them all. maybe they didn't speak back, and the owner emil had to hold me back, but whatev's. were you there? didn't think so biatch.

but the sick thing is, i came home drunk and ordered an entire Joe's Pizza. all i really wanted was a slice, but i couldn't be bothered with walking there (it is one block away).





for $20 (including tip) i got an entire pizza pie. it's not quite the same as eating it on the street with other drunk fucks, but what-ever. i scooped all the sauce off of every piece and put it on the two slices i actually ate. the rest i left for my mice. oh yes, i have mice. once i got over the grossness of it, i realized they are kind of cute and think of them as my pets.



oh, boy. and the guy i met on the way out of the waverly thought i was an actress (actress, not model--ugh) and wanted to talk to me. i love wearing my yankees hat super low and walking out of a celebrity infested restaurant like i own the place. it really throws people off.

on another note, i am looking for a guy whose feet are this big. because size (of your feet) matters.

waverly inn

joe's pizza

it's raining.

can we take a moment for the victims of 9-11?

(moment)

thanks.

god is crying. i say that because i was never good at science and i don't really understand where rain comes from. so that means, following this reasoning, thunder is god farting. (i am hysterically laughing at that, soraya doesn't think it is funny at all.)

i love rain from a window, and i love rain when it is time to play in it, but i don't like getting wet just because i don't have a car to run my errands. so i ordered from east village thai. yes, the one from the other night.

this vegetarian thing is really starting to stick. but i have found food without meat just does not taste as good. regardless, the spring rolls are incredible.



the best part of today's eating is the malteser's from england. got them as a gift and boy are they awesome. it makes (the american version) whopper's taste like wax coated sand.




today's post sucks. i am PMS-ing. my boobs are going to pop and all i want to do is eat chocolate and cry. and laugh. and cry. wait....no....cry.

i am so ashamed.

i did it again. ikea.

i can't even post a picture, the humiliation is too much.

it was kind of great. no lines, no noise, no crying babies. just me, the steam heated frozen vegetables and a pepsi.

ran into a friend. our faces went quickly from embarrassed to, "oh wait, you are here too so its not that bad."

the thing that sucks is walking past the kid section to get to the restaurant. because my ex-stepson's room is decorated in all that shit.

wait, what? did i just say ex-stepson?

i know. i know. listen, not everyone is into that whole abortion thing. but thank god cause this kid is amazing. i miss him.

whooaaaa. holy shit. reel it in, candice. back to the food. picked up a cinnamon bun on the way out. i swear soraya and i were fighting over it and on the way out of the parking lot, there was a sign for 6 buns for $4 and we almost, ALMOST turned around to buy a tray.

but i have thighs to watch. i have to stay skinny if i want to find a new little boy's father to date.

nha trang, yeah trang

yeah, nha trang! this place has sort of a sad significance to me, because my ex introduced me to it. but fuck that. it's mine now.

i even got my mother hooked on it, we go each time she's in the city. this is a woman who wears heels during the day and gets her hair blow dried three times a week. but, damnit, she will still come to this dirty place with bad furniture because the food is (90% of the time) that good.

i highly recommend the vegetable pho. this will clean you out in one hour. it cures the flu. it kills any hangover. it's like magical vietnamese remedy.





as a person who like condiments, i must say this place is heaven. don't be scared of fish sauce. it may smell like your ex-girlfriends underwear, but squirt just a little in your soup and it is salty and delicious and packed full of healthy omega three fatty acids. your ex-girlfriend was just packed full of fatty ass.



these things are called hollow vegetables. check it out, they really are hollow. like my soul. but you can eat these and they are delicious.



YOU MUST try the lemonade soda. squeezed lime juice and sugar in ice, and then you pour your own can of soda water on it. you know, it's interactive.



this place is great. i would say that 1 out of 10 times the chicken is rancid but it hasn't stopped me from going back-if that tells you anything. (although,, recently i switched to a strict vegetarian ordering policy there.)

tres cheap, too. and they accept credit cards.

what can i get for $10? any-ting you want.

centre street just south of white

nha trang

gemma ward? no not as hot.

my dad is turning 60. he loves to see the scene and shit like that,so i took him to gemma, the restaurant at the bowery hotel.

we got a table a reservation 10pm, a time whose obnoxiousity i overlooked because his flight only got in at 9:30.

well, apparently the taxi strike being over didn't help the line at JFK, and he only made it in at 10:30, which was perfect because our table was only ready at 10:45. did i mention reservation was for 9:30?

we all ordered pasta. mom and dad got bolognese, because they are meat and potato kind of people. i got tomato sauce cause i am a 24 hour vegetarian today. sis got clam linguini cause she likes clams. but she isn't a dyke.





here we go...

neither salt...



nor pepper...



nor parmesian...



nor specially requested chopped garlic in olive oil...



nor bubbly wine....




could make this pasta taste like ANYTHING. even that dean and deluca shit had flavor. granted--it was a very, very bad flavor, but still. you know. it tried.

this was absolutely like eating wet noodles with wet on them. and then i turned them into saltier, pepperier, garlicky, cheesy noodles. but still. i am not 9 years old.

to be fair, the salad was good.

(i am sorry eric if you ever read this. i think you are a really generous person and talented, too. but the food sucks)

is that really what i look like? oofah.

Gemma

attention boy

i am gay now. that should make it easier for you quit pestering me.

noho star.

that's one star.

no, just kidding. the food at this place is good. but something about it bothers me. whatever, who am i kidding. i am not the most pleasant person and there is ALWAYS something that bothers me.

i asked for iced tea. it was some jasmin green tea bullshit. green tea is BITTER and doesn't taste good. poison is not refreshing.

we split a tuna salad sandwich. of course i loved it because it had mayonnaise on it. tuna, avocado, tomato, mayo on toated whole wheat bread.



it was small though. we had a side of fries. GREAT fries. but i think i discovered i can't eat fried foods. you know...why.




still though. i can't believe we split a tiny sandwich, fries, and one poison tea and it came to $20. that is insane.

noho star

taxi strike? you're out!

are you fucking kidding me? are you fucking kidding me. for realz.



this woman (taxi workers alliance founder) is just so annoying and her rhetoric is shameful. what the fuck is this strike about? they are protesting putting GPS in their cabs? because it's an invasion of privacy since GPS units can be tracked even when they are off duty?

ALOHA. you know that cell phone you are gabbing on the entire fare? guess what? TRACK THAT BIATCH. big brother knows where to find you no matter WHUT.

and by the way. i have been in two taxis with that GPS/entertainment center/credit card machine thing in them and i loved it so much i tipped that fucker $2.

back to work! or better yet, stay away. the streets are the most peaceful they have been since the last blizzard.

to be fair, this guy is awesome (fernando mateo nys federation of taxi drivers). a little more realistic. plus he is doing an interview on tv right now in a white button down, top two buttons undone, and plaid golfing shorts. hilarious. i love him, if anyone knows him send him my way.



(if you aren't following this story, sorry for the boring post)

schnitzel. it's chicken.

ok, this place is so great. the food is so good. they serve breakfast all day. they put lemon slices ON your glass (not IN them). they are laid back without being lazy. i really should eat there more often. they even serve their bread with homemade vegetable cream cheese.






for those of you who aren't jews or nazis, schnitzel is chicken breast pounded real thin and breaded and fried and doused in lemon juice.



(nice photography, soraya. gross.) moving on...it comes with isreali salad and mashed potatoes with real chunks, and some magical mystery sauce. i think it is a blend of mayo and lemon juice and mustard. but i drink it, it's that good. probably good for your nails and skin and stuff, too.

soraya had french toast. they fucking picked a fruit forrest for that thing! 5 different fruits and none of them, not one, mushy.



i wish she had melons on that plate so i could say something funny. like, "look at soraya's tits!"

they take CC's. on macdougal street btwn houston and prince.

12 Chairs

coffee?

this place is so cute. i love it! it's called "local," so if you don't live in soho...well, then i would just go ahead and hang yourself and make it easier for this place to serve its kind.

i have never had coffee from here. but since i am superly superficial i am 100% comfortable saying i love it.



it's on sullivan street between houston and prince.

thai dinner

there is nothing i hate more than live music. i can handle a song, or two. but if it's not the rolling stones, i don't care to hear more than 10 minutes of it.

i was dragged to joes pub. the first song was great. the second song was good. then each song after that sounded the same and my ears hurt cause it was so loud. i think they even bled a little. just a little.

i like cd's. i can tell the band to play, tell them to shut up, and if i miss something i can ask them to repeat themselves.

i made my friend go with me to EAST VILLAGE THAI since i went with him to hell.



this place is unbelievable. you know you are there by the garfield clock on the wall. everything is so good and my best friend is thai so that gives me some sort of authority by proxy, i figure.




cash only. but worth a buck seventy five ATM fee.

the best thai food in new york city, hands down.

East Village Thai

grey dog

grey dog coffee. i don't really know what to say about this place. i see what they are going for, but i just don't buy it.

another menu that tickles my panic nerve. the sandwiches are numbered and you have to order by number and then you decide what kind of bread and then you stand in line and you pay in line and people are bumping into you and if you want water you have to get it yourself from the stupid cooler using those cheap plastic cups and then you claw your way to an empty table and wait for someone to say "CANDICE!" and then you stand up so they can see you flag them over and then they deposit your order on your tiny table and you realize you need ketchup....which is all the way on the other side of the crowded restaurant.



some other annoyances:

1) there is an arrow on a sign that reads "refills." but you have to pay for refills. refill rhymes with freefill. so you don't pay for a freefill. other wise it's a payforanewfill. a new fill. not a REfill.

2) the red stuff in the tabasco bottles is NOT tabasco. it is texas pete's cayenne pepper sauce. if you know, you know. big difference. and why the dupe? why not just keep the texas pete's in the texas pete's bottle?



i hated my soup. minestrone. it wasn't soup. it was thick tomato paste with some zuchhini and macaroni noodles. um, yah.

the sandwich was in inedible, too. unless your mouth opens as wide as lindsey lohans. or have all your front teeth pulled like the hookers in third world countries.

foul mood much? yes. i hate you. and you, and you, and you.

(grey dog coffee is on carmine street between bedford and bleecker)

breaking in

(warning:this has nothing to do with lunch)

how to break into your own apartment.

find a lonely construction worker on your block.

hike up your shorts and look desperate and dumb when you tell him you locked yourself out of your apartment cause you are so silly and do silly things like that all the time and might be silly enough to slip and land on his cock if he just did you this one favor.

be sure to let him know that you are staring attentively at his tight buttocks while he does his job.

tell him not to touch your poodle cause she bites. then hope he ignores all the dirty panties left scattered around like land mines. cause you are silly. and lazy. and can't afford a maid to do it for you.



then again. he probably loves that shit, and sniffed each pair on his way to the front door.

ewww.

ikea

i know it's not soho, it's not even manhattan. but i had to go to elizabeth, new jersey to pick out a cheap kitchen.

yes, cheap. it may be streamlined and look good from 20 feet away, but it doesn't change the fact that it is made of particle board and plastic and, therefor, cheap. danish design from ikea ain't no hans wegner. wait, ikea is swedish not danish. eh, whatever. they are both very far away and cold countries.

we were working up an appetite getting lost on the turnpike. we text googled a wendy's but had absolutely no idea where the fuck any of those addresses were cause we don't live in jersey. i don't even know where streets like vestry and reade are in manhattan.

by the time of arrival we were so hungry we thought the restaurant sounded amazing. and we didn't even need a reservation!

let's be clear. this is not a restaurant. it is a high school cafeteria. the student population includes young couples from suburbia who want to furnish their new two bedroom with granite countertop kitchen in "syle", lots of immigrants, lots of screaming kids, and lots of people eating lots--nay, too many meatballs.



soraya had 10 meatballs with gravy and lindenberry schmutz. and a roll. and some apple cake with jiz on it that she didn't even touch.

i had mac and cheese, steamed vegetables, a roll, ranch dressing, bbq sauce, and a pepsi. all mixed together.

the best part was our table. we sat in the VIP section. a full wall of windows overlooking the runways of newark airport. the sky was blue, the fake flower yellow, and (insert some other cute line here).



it was enough sustenance to get us through the kitchen planning, but i nearly lost it trying to find the exit to that labarynth. that horrible, horrible partical board filled labaryth. i ended up accosting an employee in a yellow shirt demanding he "show me the fastest way out of this place!" then i muttered "for fucks sake" but a man holding his little daughter heard and shot me a dirty look.