Current Song: "Scenes From An Italian Restaurant" ~Billy Joel. 'Nuff said.
We all have a Facebook. Everyone's is different, and everyone is different about how they utilize their page, but we all have one and we know how it works and how it works for/against us.
Initial Disclaimer: I am a huge Facebook fan and am on logged on every day (thank you, boring job!). That said, it does have it's ups and downs. That's what we're (I'm) discussing here.
Facebook has become the best and worst thing to happen to us as a society. I'm sure that can be said about a million other things as well, but for all intents an purposes, I'm using Facebook. Let it go. I'll start with the positives since that's always a nice way to begin a criticism of any kind--point out what's RIGHT before pointing out what's horribly, horribly wrong.
First and foremost, Facebook provides all of us with an endless opportunity to connect and reconnect with the people that have left a mark on our lives, for better or for worse. It's a chance to see where your childhood friends have moved to, who's married, who has children, who has had some great successes in their lives, etc. And, on the other side of things, it allows YOU to share your best moments, your children, your marriage, your successes with the people of your choice. From kids you went to nursery school with to old college roommates, Facebook has provided us all with a way to reconnect with our past and to link it to our present and future.
In some cases, Facebook has helped in searches for people. (I feel an example coming on!) My mom grew up in NYC and moved to the (201) when she was about 12. She has been searching for one of her old NYC friends/classmates for years and, until Facebook, was unsuccessful. Now, through the magic of Facebook and the ability to filter via maiden names and networks (i.e. Northern New Jersey, etc.), my mom found her friend, reconnected with her, and has a good 40 years to catch up on--and is endlessly happy to do so.
So, Facebook certainly has it success stories--thousands, at the very least, I'm sure--and is creating some real positivity and happiness in the world. This is my #1 reason for being in love with Facebook.
And, in addition to said reason, I also love posting pictures of my life, seeing pictures of old friends or friends who live too far away to see in person regularly, watching the kids I used to babysit become miniature adults, keeping up with family members who live hundreds of miles away, commenting on statuses I love, reading the comments that people who love me write, etc. It's certainly motivating when the first thing you read in the morning is a thoughtful, funny, loving, or sweet comment from someone you love posted on your wall. People love you and want the whole world to know it. And that's, well...awesome. And I feel strongly about telling the people who I love that I love them all the time, whether intimately in person or publicly on Facebook. (In some cases, I would hire a skywriter if I could, but you get the point. "Shout it from the rooftops," an so on.)
As for the down sides, and there are many, I'll start with paranoia. I'm convinced that Facebook has made me--if not all of us--a little more paranoid. "What did she mean by that 'lol' she posted on my status? I was serious about wanting to save the rain forest! How rude!" Or, "I can't believe he hasn't commented on what I posted on his wall. It's been a whole day!" Or, "I called Amy last night around 11, and she didn't answer, so I figured she was asleep. But then I saw she updated her status at midnight--is she avoiding my calls? She hates me, doesn't she?" Or, "I think Bob's mad at me...he didn't post a reaction to my comment." Crazy? Yes. True? Absolutely.
Facebook has made me question people's motives, become weary of people's reactions to my life, become weary of other people comments and "like"s. It's made me jealous of the people who are more successful than I am. It's made me jealous of women who write on my boyfriend's wall--I find that I am only jealous on Facebook and not in real life, which is a little scary. It's made me sad about people who look better than I do in their pictures and angry about people who don't comment on the pictures I post. Facebook drums up a whirlwind of emotions, especially when you become heavily (and pointlessly) invested.
And then, of course, there's the aftermath of the whirlwind. When the dust settles and you log off and you check back in to real life, when you realize that some of the assumptions you made or conclusions you came to via Facebook research (also known as stalking) are totally incorrect and way off mark, you get to feel slightly (if not entirely) stupid. Best example which happened just this second: I got a text from my boyfriend. Knowing now that he is awake, I run out the back door of my office to call him since we didn't get to talk last night. He doesn't answer and I get to feeling a little...bothered. "How is it that he just texted me from his phone--so it's near him--but can't answer a phone call?" I say to myself on the long walk back to my desk. "This sucks." I sit down at my work computer, click back into my Facebook homepage, and see his latest status update from 20 minutes ago pop up on my news feed. "Funeral." Crap. He's at a funeral and I got mad that he didn't pick up his phone. "What an ass I am."
*Note: On the flip side of this, if I had bothered to look at his Facebook page BEFORE I made the phone call, I would have seen the update, not called, and not have put myself through this ordeal. Facebook: Friend or Foe. You be the judge.*
So, you see, Facebook certainly has it's down side. Most certainly.
Currently, I am trying to commit to being less dependent on Facebook and what it stands for. It's definitely difficult, and it takes something to not let it get into your head and manipulate your thoughts. But I am trying to log in with a more leveled head. It may take me awhile to get used to doing so, however. And maybe I sound a bit crazy for being this "addicted" to Facebook and the meanings behind it, but sharing certain things--my accomplishments, being in love, great pictures, awesome moments--with the world makes me happy and is still important to me. That I can't detract from.
In some ACTUAL (201) news: I have just been made aware the the Garden State Plaza has opened up a Gucci boutique. O happy day!!! (Even though I can only afford to window shop.) The GSP becomes a little more like Manhattan every month, and this makes me smile..if only for the sheer fact that we don't pay tax on clothing here in the good old NJ! Heaven smiles on Bergen County...
And so the weekend (almost) begins, which will consist of running to my second job after my first (restaurant reviews of my own place of employment coming soon), visiting Grandma, hopefully spending some time relaxing with my boyfriend and finally seeing "Valentine's Day," and more work. One day I'll actually have my apartment set up...
Current song: "Change The World" ~Eric Clapton. Pure genius.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Cancer Sucks
Current song: "Whataya Want From Me" ~Adam Lambert (This man is incredible.)
Cancer DOES suck. I think it's pretty unanimous. I don't think I know anyone who's a fan.
But I'd still like to vent about it anyway.
A couple of weeks ago, my grandmother was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. (That would be the lining of the uterus, for those who are unfamiliar.) And I am a bit of a mess.
Despite the high risk of cancer in our society, especially in the northeast (thank you, modern industry), my family has never had a history of cancer--that we know of. My grandfather is the sole Holocaust survivor in his family and doesn't know much about his family medical history. Other than that, my family (both sides) have always been cancer-free. (And, ironically, ALL smokers. Go figure that one out. Note: I am not saying that smoking is OK, I'm just sayin'...it's weird.)
That is, until a couple years ago. My grandfather on my father's side was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It was contained and removed in one shot. Things went smoothly and he is fully healthy today and kickin' at 88 years old. My grandmother on my mother's side, at 72, is not so lucky.
Since the cancer is inside of her uterus, the doctors recommended an immediate hysterectomy. We all agreed that this was the most logical decision and went ahead with it. The surgery happened yesterday morning and the procedure went well. However, after they removed the uterus, they found that the cancer had spread to her stomach, bowels, and fat. They removed what they could, but it was impossible to get it all. Now she will have to go through at least six months of chemotherapy to try and get rid of the rest. The doctor said "she has a good chance." Thanks, Doc.
My grandmother is no spring chicken; however, to be 72 and the grandmother of eight grandchildren, the oldest being in her mid-twenties, she's pretty young. She's also the sole caretaker of her husband, my grandfather, who is almost 11 years her senior and in poor physical health.
She is the matriarch. She is everything. And now she's giving up on herself.
I feel useless.
"I should have become an oncologist."
"I should have convinced her to quit smoking."
"I should have visited her every single day."
"I should have told her I loved her every other minute."
"I should have taken her to the casino like she wanted."
"I should have been better."
"I should have...but I didn't."
This isn't about me. This isn't about anyone else in my family who will be dealing with this and scrambling to take care of both of my grandparents. This isn't about G-d or faith or hope. This isn't about selfishness or selflessness. This isn't about money or schedules or time.
This is about my grandmother and her sense of self-worth. This is about her.
I am committed to figuring out a way to help her believe in herself, to help her realize what she means to all of us. Without her, my family will be half of what it once was because she is such a powerful force within it.
I am also committed to being a support for a family that tends to panic when someone has a cold, much less cancer. I am committed to being a support and a major player in the months to come. I am committed to doing anything I have to in order to take care--I just don't know how I'll look at the end of it all.
I am lucky enough to have a wonderful man in my life who is, above everything, supportive of me and everything I do. A man who loves me through and despite everything. And I am so much more than grateful. And although he's an incredibly strong person, I'm worried that I might pull him down with me if I start to fall.
Falling down is not an option right now. This is not about me and I need to remind myself of that every now and again.
To everyone out there living with cancer and/or a family member with cancer: just remember that love saves lives.
Current song: "Music Again" ~Adam Lambert (Uplifting? Check.)
Cancer DOES suck. I think it's pretty unanimous. I don't think I know anyone who's a fan.
But I'd still like to vent about it anyway.
A couple of weeks ago, my grandmother was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. (That would be the lining of the uterus, for those who are unfamiliar.) And I am a bit of a mess.
Despite the high risk of cancer in our society, especially in the northeast (thank you, modern industry), my family has never had a history of cancer--that we know of. My grandfather is the sole Holocaust survivor in his family and doesn't know much about his family medical history. Other than that, my family (both sides) have always been cancer-free. (And, ironically, ALL smokers. Go figure that one out. Note: I am not saying that smoking is OK, I'm just sayin'...it's weird.)
That is, until a couple years ago. My grandfather on my father's side was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It was contained and removed in one shot. Things went smoothly and he is fully healthy today and kickin' at 88 years old. My grandmother on my mother's side, at 72, is not so lucky.
Since the cancer is inside of her uterus, the doctors recommended an immediate hysterectomy. We all agreed that this was the most logical decision and went ahead with it. The surgery happened yesterday morning and the procedure went well. However, after they removed the uterus, they found that the cancer had spread to her stomach, bowels, and fat. They removed what they could, but it was impossible to get it all. Now she will have to go through at least six months of chemotherapy to try and get rid of the rest. The doctor said "she has a good chance." Thanks, Doc.
My grandmother is no spring chicken; however, to be 72 and the grandmother of eight grandchildren, the oldest being in her mid-twenties, she's pretty young. She's also the sole caretaker of her husband, my grandfather, who is almost 11 years her senior and in poor physical health.
She is the matriarch. She is everything. And now she's giving up on herself.
I feel useless.
"I should have become an oncologist."
"I should have convinced her to quit smoking."
"I should have visited her every single day."
"I should have told her I loved her every other minute."
"I should have taken her to the casino like she wanted."
"I should have been better."
"I should have...but I didn't."
This isn't about me. This isn't about anyone else in my family who will be dealing with this and scrambling to take care of both of my grandparents. This isn't about G-d or faith or hope. This isn't about selfishness or selflessness. This isn't about money or schedules or time.
This is about my grandmother and her sense of self-worth. This is about her.
I am committed to figuring out a way to help her believe in herself, to help her realize what she means to all of us. Without her, my family will be half of what it once was because she is such a powerful force within it.
I am also committed to being a support for a family that tends to panic when someone has a cold, much less cancer. I am committed to being a support and a major player in the months to come. I am committed to doing anything I have to in order to take care--I just don't know how I'll look at the end of it all.
I am lucky enough to have a wonderful man in my life who is, above everything, supportive of me and everything I do. A man who loves me through and despite everything. And I am so much more than grateful. And although he's an incredibly strong person, I'm worried that I might pull him down with me if I start to fall.
Falling down is not an option right now. This is not about me and I need to remind myself of that every now and again.
To everyone out there living with cancer and/or a family member with cancer: just remember that love saves lives.
Current song: "Music Again" ~Adam Lambert (Uplifting? Check.)
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The Anti-Vacation Day
Current song: "Babe I'm Gonna Leave You" ~Led Zeppelin (An old favorite that never gets tiring.)
So, here I sit, all broken-hearted...at my office. In the middle of the snowstorm of the century. I've been thinking about the workforce and the non implementation of snow days. And I've been thinking hard. *ouch*
As kids, snow days were what we all looked forward to. Nothing was better than being told by a parent (or guardian--must remain PC) to go back to bed because school was canceled. Which, of course, meant that you would not, by any means, be going back to bed. It meant, instead, that you would run to the nearest window, make sure there was enough snow on the ground, and start planning your snow-day activities.
I remember having several pairs of those awful snowsuits between my brother and I. The puffy kind with the suspender straps that you would put on over your thermals and under your oversized snow coat. The kind that came in lime-green or neon-orange. The kind you didn't want your friends to see you in...unless it was a snow day and they were wearing theirs too. My parents would spend close to an hour helping us to get into our snow suits, bundle up with gloves and hats and scarves, and reminding us to "be careful" and to play, but "not for too long. You'll get sick!" Then the snow day would officially commence.
Ahh, the pleasures of being a child. The joy in getting all of your clothes soaking wet and having someone else peel them off for you to be put into the dryer. The excitement of hearing "school's canceled" and playing video games in your pajamas all morning. And the older you get, the more resentful toward snow you become.
Today, in the midst of this relentless blizzard, I sit at my desk in my office. Today, an office that is usually filled with at least 120 people contains maybe 20. I, of course, am one of the lucky (stupid?) few who decided to show up. My reasoning? Vacation preservation.
This, to me, is a sad state of affairs. That people, myself included, are not only willing, but desperate to risk their safety in order to preserve the few sick/personal/vacation days they are allotted a year. That we are determined to get to work, and stay there, in order to get our fair pay in the worst of weather conditions.
"Dear Corporate America,
Thank you for encouraging us all to risk our lives on a regular basis.
Sincerely,
Marissa (and the rest of the nation)"
"So why," someone might ask me, "would you go to work, even when you have vacation days to use? Why go to work just to complain about going to work when you can take the day off and still get paid?" Why? Principle. Well, principle and (I repeat) vacation preservation.
As far as I'm concerned, vacation and personal days are just that. Days to be used for either vacations or personal reason. Snow is neither a vacation nor a personal matter for me. This is New Jersey. Snow happens. And I would like to retain the few days I have a year for something that I want to do, not have to do.
My company allots days as follows: An employee receives ONE personal/sick day (they do not distinguish between the two) for every two months they work. For example, an employee will receive ONE personal day after working January and February, ONE for working March and April, and so on. Six personal days, total, a year. And they do not roll over to the following year, so they'd better be used up by New Years! I, unfortunately, was sick not too long ago, and I had to use my ONE Jan/Feb day. Therefore, I am officially out of personal days until March. So, that's that. Boo, hiss.
I do, however, still have vacation days. In fact, I have 10. My company gave me two weeks vacation time for 2010. Sounds fair, right? Ehh. Maybe, maybe not. I worked here for six months before being given any time off.
Short story: I started at this company at the beginning of July. I had no vacation time at all for 2009, and between July and December I acquired three personal days, one of which had to be used for Yom Kippur, the holiest Jewish holiday, which we do not get off for. (This company, by the way, is owned and operated by orthodox Jews. Most of the employees are Jewish, myself included. Most normal companies give off for Yom Kippur, regardless. As you can see, this is not a normal company to work for.) So, between July and December I had two personal days to use at my discretion. One was used to be sick (not so much fun) and the other I saved in order to take off on New Years Eve. Big thrill.
So, to answer the much earlier asked question that I addressed to myself, I work during horrible weather so that I can use the very few days I am allotted for myself. For a vacation. Not for a snow day.
I vote that companies be run more like school districts. If the weather is terrible and the safety of the employee is risked by coming into work, a company should be closed for the day. Or have a "delayed opening." Or close early. Whichever. Why should schools close when companies don't? Many people in the workforce have children in school and are even more set back when school is canceled but work is not. They are either forced to use a personal day (if they have any), forced to take a pay dock, forced to pay a babysitter, or--gasp!--forced to leave their children home alone. I don't have children, but when I do, I suspect I'll be even more irritated by this snow situation.
Make work more like school. I'm just sayin'...it would be nice. And fair. And nice.
Completely unrelated side note: bananas do NOT keep well. I threw out an entire bushel (and peck) or bananas last night, for they had become banana puree in skins. It was revolting.
Another completely unrelated side note: Valentine's Day is coming up! I have plans--good ones!--but can't write them out until after they've happened. My boyfriends supposedly reads my blog. We shall see...
Current song: "I Can't Dance" ~Genesis. (I'm much more of a Peter Gabriel fan myself, but I give Phil Collins props for this song. It's catchy as hell.)
So, here I sit, all broken-hearted...at my office. In the middle of the snowstorm of the century. I've been thinking about the workforce and the non implementation of snow days. And I've been thinking hard. *ouch*
As kids, snow days were what we all looked forward to. Nothing was better than being told by a parent (or guardian--must remain PC) to go back to bed because school was canceled. Which, of course, meant that you would not, by any means, be going back to bed. It meant, instead, that you would run to the nearest window, make sure there was enough snow on the ground, and start planning your snow-day activities.
I remember having several pairs of those awful snowsuits between my brother and I. The puffy kind with the suspender straps that you would put on over your thermals and under your oversized snow coat. The kind that came in lime-green or neon-orange. The kind you didn't want your friends to see you in...unless it was a snow day and they were wearing theirs too. My parents would spend close to an hour helping us to get into our snow suits, bundle up with gloves and hats and scarves, and reminding us to "be careful" and to play, but "not for too long. You'll get sick!" Then the snow day would officially commence.
Ahh, the pleasures of being a child. The joy in getting all of your clothes soaking wet and having someone else peel them off for you to be put into the dryer. The excitement of hearing "school's canceled" and playing video games in your pajamas all morning. And the older you get, the more resentful toward snow you become.
Today, in the midst of this relentless blizzard, I sit at my desk in my office. Today, an office that is usually filled with at least 120 people contains maybe 20. I, of course, am one of the lucky (stupid?) few who decided to show up. My reasoning? Vacation preservation.
This, to me, is a sad state of affairs. That people, myself included, are not only willing, but desperate to risk their safety in order to preserve the few sick/personal/vacation days they are allotted a year. That we are determined to get to work, and stay there, in order to get our fair pay in the worst of weather conditions.
"Dear Corporate America,
Thank you for encouraging us all to risk our lives on a regular basis.
Sincerely,
Marissa (and the rest of the nation)"
"So why," someone might ask me, "would you go to work, even when you have vacation days to use? Why go to work just to complain about going to work when you can take the day off and still get paid?" Why? Principle. Well, principle and (I repeat) vacation preservation.
As far as I'm concerned, vacation and personal days are just that. Days to be used for either vacations or personal reason. Snow is neither a vacation nor a personal matter for me. This is New Jersey. Snow happens. And I would like to retain the few days I have a year for something that I want to do, not have to do.
My company allots days as follows: An employee receives ONE personal/sick day (they do not distinguish between the two) for every two months they work. For example, an employee will receive ONE personal day after working January and February, ONE for working March and April, and so on. Six personal days, total, a year. And they do not roll over to the following year, so they'd better be used up by New Years! I, unfortunately, was sick not too long ago, and I had to use my ONE Jan/Feb day. Therefore, I am officially out of personal days until March. So, that's that. Boo, hiss.
I do, however, still have vacation days. In fact, I have 10. My company gave me two weeks vacation time for 2010. Sounds fair, right? Ehh. Maybe, maybe not. I worked here for six months before being given any time off.
Short story: I started at this company at the beginning of July. I had no vacation time at all for 2009, and between July and December I acquired three personal days, one of which had to be used for Yom Kippur, the holiest Jewish holiday, which we do not get off for. (This company, by the way, is owned and operated by orthodox Jews. Most of the employees are Jewish, myself included. Most normal companies give off for Yom Kippur, regardless. As you can see, this is not a normal company to work for.) So, between July and December I had two personal days to use at my discretion. One was used to be sick (not so much fun) and the other I saved in order to take off on New Years Eve. Big thrill.
So, to answer the much earlier asked question that I addressed to myself, I work during horrible weather so that I can use the very few days I am allotted for myself. For a vacation. Not for a snow day.
I vote that companies be run more like school districts. If the weather is terrible and the safety of the employee is risked by coming into work, a company should be closed for the day. Or have a "delayed opening." Or close early. Whichever. Why should schools close when companies don't? Many people in the workforce have children in school and are even more set back when school is canceled but work is not. They are either forced to use a personal day (if they have any), forced to take a pay dock, forced to pay a babysitter, or--gasp!--forced to leave their children home alone. I don't have children, but when I do, I suspect I'll be even more irritated by this snow situation.
Make work more like school. I'm just sayin'...it would be nice. And fair. And nice.
Completely unrelated side note: bananas do NOT keep well. I threw out an entire bushel (and peck) or bananas last night, for they had become banana puree in skins. It was revolting.
Another completely unrelated side note: Valentine's Day is coming up! I have plans--good ones!--but can't write them out until after they've happened. My boyfriends supposedly reads my blog. We shall see...
Current song: "I Can't Dance" ~Genesis. (I'm much more of a Peter Gabriel fan myself, but I give Phil Collins props for this song. It's catchy as hell.)
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Stunt Doubling Burritos
Current song: "The Voice Within" ~Christina Aguilera (one of the loves of my life.)
Every day blogging is still difficult, having no computer at home to work on and all. Also, trying to blog at work is more difficult than cleaning a bathtub. (Another little tidbit I learned this week. Boo to stubborn bathtub rings.)
But enough about bathtubs. What this is really about is burritos. Burritos and all other delightfully delicious Mexican foodstuffs. And one of the best places in the (201) to find fantastic Mexican food is Pancho's Burritos. There are two locations--Westwood and New Milford--and the food is amazing. Really.
Pancho's (at least the New Milford location) is extremely small, maybe 10-12 tables, but has a full liquor license and offers a cozy, fun atmosphere. (Note: You may want to go on a weekday, as Pancho's tends to get pretty busy pretty quickly on the weekends. You'll end up waiting awhile.)
I started with their "house drink," a Bulldog, which is a frozen margarita mixed with sangria and sangria fruit, sporting an upside down Corona that drains slowly into the mix. Sounds strange, but it's fantastic (and also comes in a double size to share--bless the kind, kind universe and it's bartenders).
My friend and I started with guacamole--wait, let me rephrase that. By guacamole I meant some of the best guac I've ever had. It's definitely home made and full of garlic-cilantro brilliance. We also had the Mexican Cheese Chorizo--a melty, cheesy, sausagey mix that comes complete with warm corn tortillas. Mmm...just something else to put guacamole on...
I ordered the steak fajita plate, sans peppers (I know, I know...what's Mexican food without peppers? But I'm allergic. It's a curse this life has dealt me. I survive, nonetheless) and the plate is a little bit of everything. Steak, grilled onions, peppers (if you're not me), pico de gallo, lettuce, warm flour tortillas, guacamole, sour cream, black and/or pinto beans, rice...and SHOULD come with a second stomach, but I digress. It's something I would most certainly suggest to a first-timer. It gives you a great feel for how the food is prepared, along with giving you a sample of a bunch of items they have to offer.
My friend ordered a crispy chicken burrito (mainly for the spicy mayo it comes with, which is irresistible). The burritos are HUGE and usually end up coming home with you, at least in part. Stuffed with meat, cheese, beans, and rice, these burritos don't need anything else on the side. It's heaven in a tortilla, already wrapped for you--no work required! (Ok, I have a serious addiction to Mexican food. Go with me on this.)
I would report on dessert...but no more food would fit in our stomachs...or on the table.
If you haven't been to Pancho's Burritos yet, I obviously suggest it. No, I insist. If I could, I would force you there against your will. It's a place everyone needs to try at least once.
And, on a completely random side note: It has occurred to me this week that I am one of a VERY FEW people who actually knows what the word "doppelganger" means. Why has no one heard of this word? Honestly, I thought it was fairly common. I was proved wrong by half the Facebook community. And by my boyfriend. And by my brother.
(And, no. A doppelganger is NOT a Yiddish stunt double. But it should be.)
Current song: "Brick By Boring Brick" ~Paramore (They have yet to have a song I dislike. Go, Paramore. Brownie points, and such.)
Every day blogging is still difficult, having no computer at home to work on and all. Also, trying to blog at work is more difficult than cleaning a bathtub. (Another little tidbit I learned this week. Boo to stubborn bathtub rings.)
But enough about bathtubs. What this is really about is burritos. Burritos and all other delightfully delicious Mexican foodstuffs. And one of the best places in the (201) to find fantastic Mexican food is Pancho's Burritos. There are two locations--Westwood and New Milford--and the food is amazing. Really.
Pancho's (at least the New Milford location) is extremely small, maybe 10-12 tables, but has a full liquor license and offers a cozy, fun atmosphere. (Note: You may want to go on a weekday, as Pancho's tends to get pretty busy pretty quickly on the weekends. You'll end up waiting awhile.)
I started with their "house drink," a Bulldog, which is a frozen margarita mixed with sangria and sangria fruit, sporting an upside down Corona that drains slowly into the mix. Sounds strange, but it's fantastic (and also comes in a double size to share--bless the kind, kind universe and it's bartenders).
My friend and I started with guacamole--wait, let me rephrase that. By guacamole I meant some of the best guac I've ever had. It's definitely home made and full of garlic-cilantro brilliance. We also had the Mexican Cheese Chorizo--a melty, cheesy, sausagey mix that comes complete with warm corn tortillas. Mmm...just something else to put guacamole on...
I ordered the steak fajita plate, sans peppers (I know, I know...what's Mexican food without peppers? But I'm allergic. It's a curse this life has dealt me. I survive, nonetheless) and the plate is a little bit of everything. Steak, grilled onions, peppers (if you're not me), pico de gallo, lettuce, warm flour tortillas, guacamole, sour cream, black and/or pinto beans, rice...and SHOULD come with a second stomach, but I digress. It's something I would most certainly suggest to a first-timer. It gives you a great feel for how the food is prepared, along with giving you a sample of a bunch of items they have to offer.
My friend ordered a crispy chicken burrito (mainly for the spicy mayo it comes with, which is irresistible). The burritos are HUGE and usually end up coming home with you, at least in part. Stuffed with meat, cheese, beans, and rice, these burritos don't need anything else on the side. It's heaven in a tortilla, already wrapped for you--no work required! (Ok, I have a serious addiction to Mexican food. Go with me on this.)
I would report on dessert...but no more food would fit in our stomachs...or on the table.
If you haven't been to Pancho's Burritos yet, I obviously suggest it. No, I insist. If I could, I would force you there against your will. It's a place everyone needs to try at least once.
And, on a completely random side note: It has occurred to me this week that I am one of a VERY FEW people who actually knows what the word "doppelganger" means. Why has no one heard of this word? Honestly, I thought it was fairly common. I was proved wrong by half the Facebook community. And by my boyfriend. And by my brother.
(And, no. A doppelganger is NOT a Yiddish stunt double. But it should be.)
Current song: "Brick By Boring Brick" ~Paramore (They have yet to have a song I dislike. Go, Paramore. Brownie points, and such.)
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Moving In, Moving On
It's hard to keep up a daily blog when your computer is in pieces on your new IKEA desk, you have no internet connection at your apartment, and your only means of blogging would be at work...which, of course, I took off in order to move. *sigh*
I am completely, finally, moved in to my own place and have officially spent my first night alone. It's amazing how much you can learn about yourself--and life--in one night. Such as:
1. Hand soap is NOT a suitable replacement for dish soap. It may smell nice, but it does NOT make nearly enough bubbles, and it will cause your glasses to taste like aromatherapy beads...not water or soda or juice.
2. I have learned how NOT to dismantle a chicken carcass. Gross? Yes, very. Shop Rite tricked me into buying a "whole chicken in a bag." I fell for it. I cooked it. (And by "cook," I mean my boyfriend turned on the oven, put the already-bagged chicken in said oven, and took it out. I did none of the actual "cooking.") But I did dismantle--or attempt to dismantle--the chicken myself. It started with cutlery. It ended with greasy hands, a puddle of chicken juice on the floor, a lot of cursing, and a vow to never make a whole chicken. Ever again.
3. The white cable just sitting on the floor needs to actually connect to your TV if you want to watch something.
4. I've learned that tasting every flavor of sorbet you bought that afternoon is perfectly fine, so long as no one's watching.
5. You should not throw all of your jewelry into one big bag and expect it to stay untangled. (This is a job I refuse to do as of yet. Maybe next month.)
6. My family and friends are absolutely priceless! (Especially when you need furniture carried up the stairs and put together.)
7. Hangers, tuna fish, paper towels, and lettuce are expensive items.
8. Life without a computer is a life not worth living.
9. I talk to myself more often than I'd like. This is especially apparent now. Being alone does things.
10. Getting a phone call from Grandma is way more exciting than ever before.
11. Vacuuming is necessary. (I would like to apologize to my mom here for knocking her incessant need to vacuum. I get it now. I really do.)
12. I hate washing dishes, but I enjoy it more without pants.
13. The people in my life love me way more than I ever thought.
14. It's OK to watch 5 rerun episodes of Criminal Minds in a row, even when you've already seen them. It's different (and better) when there's no one there to interrupt Shemar Moore when he's speaking. (Which, by the way, should be considered blasphemy.)
These are just a few of the important things I've figured out thus far. Something tells me there will be a million and one other little minutiae that come up and teach me some kind of big life lesson.
I. Am. So. Ready. (Bring it, Universe.)
Tonight: dinner at Pancho's Burritos with one of my favorite people. (I've been there quite a few times before, but I feel like it should be fresh in my head in order to write about it.)
Current song: "Careless Whisper" ~George Michael. (A classic. Done and done.)
I am completely, finally, moved in to my own place and have officially spent my first night alone. It's amazing how much you can learn about yourself--and life--in one night. Such as:
1. Hand soap is NOT a suitable replacement for dish soap. It may smell nice, but it does NOT make nearly enough bubbles, and it will cause your glasses to taste like aromatherapy beads...not water or soda or juice.
2. I have learned how NOT to dismantle a chicken carcass. Gross? Yes, very. Shop Rite tricked me into buying a "whole chicken in a bag." I fell for it. I cooked it. (And by "cook," I mean my boyfriend turned on the oven, put the already-bagged chicken in said oven, and took it out. I did none of the actual "cooking.") But I did dismantle--or attempt to dismantle--the chicken myself. It started with cutlery. It ended with greasy hands, a puddle of chicken juice on the floor, a lot of cursing, and a vow to never make a whole chicken. Ever again.
3. The white cable just sitting on the floor needs to actually connect to your TV if you want to watch something.
4. I've learned that tasting every flavor of sorbet you bought that afternoon is perfectly fine, so long as no one's watching.
5. You should not throw all of your jewelry into one big bag and expect it to stay untangled. (This is a job I refuse to do as of yet. Maybe next month.)
6. My family and friends are absolutely priceless! (Especially when you need furniture carried up the stairs and put together.)
7. Hangers, tuna fish, paper towels, and lettuce are expensive items.
8. Life without a computer is a life not worth living.
9. I talk to myself more often than I'd like. This is especially apparent now. Being alone does things.
10. Getting a phone call from Grandma is way more exciting than ever before.
11. Vacuuming is necessary. (I would like to apologize to my mom here for knocking her incessant need to vacuum. I get it now. I really do.)
12. I hate washing dishes, but I enjoy it more without pants.
13. The people in my life love me way more than I ever thought.
14. It's OK to watch 5 rerun episodes of Criminal Minds in a row, even when you've already seen them. It's different (and better) when there's no one there to interrupt Shemar Moore when he's speaking. (Which, by the way, should be considered blasphemy.)
These are just a few of the important things I've figured out thus far. Something tells me there will be a million and one other little minutiae that come up and teach me some kind of big life lesson.
I. Am. So. Ready. (Bring it, Universe.)
Tonight: dinner at Pancho's Burritos with one of my favorite people. (I've been there quite a few times before, but I feel like it should be fresh in my head in order to write about it.)
Current song: "Careless Whisper" ~George Michael. (A classic. Done and done.)
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