I know I do a lot of hating on various female celebs on this thing – J Simps is a disaster, and don’t even get me started on ole Boobs Legsly (sorry, Joey – that’s just the way it’s going to be here at BBT), and I feel this sets forth an inaccurate representation of what I, AllieB, am really all about.
And what I am all about, it seems, is pizza, wine, library books, and Mila Kunis. I freaking love Mila Kunis. It wasn’t immediate; she used to bug the crap outta me on That 70′s Show, but that was then and this is now – and now I think she’s awesome.
Here is why I luv Mila:
She is really pretty
She can speak 7 languages – on one episode of Family Guy Meg, the character Mila does the voice for, randomly started speaking Ukrainian, and it was the coolest thing I’ve ever heard
She seems fun/normal – in fact, we’d probably be besties were we ever to have a Meet & Greet
Given her, um, romantical scene with Natalie Portman in Black Swan I should maybe take my affections down a notch, but it’s really just an innocent girl crush – I want to be her, not be with her…just to clarify…
This is kind of rad – Sandstorm has always been a favorite, and it gets particularly trance-y at 1:21. I hope they’re hosting late night.
I just left a happy birthday message for my bestest Juan (happy birthday, JohnnyT!), and, as I was hanging up the phone, I noticed that the call timer was over one minute. I wondered, what on earth did I just say to him for one minute?! The answer: nothing good.
Without any kind of response or barrier, just wide open talking time, things can get really out of hand. My thoughts – which are scattered at best – come out in this mindless drivel that is tedious for the message recipient and outright embarrassing for the message leaver (me).
I recall another message I left my buddy Miguel (strange that the two people I have thus far mentioned have names that are easily translated to Spanish – even stranger that, come to think of it, I actually took Spanish with each of these individuals…) pertaining to a lunch date.
“Michael, it’s Allie. I am calling in reference to our lunch date. I was thinking we might go to Jalisco because it is my favorite place to have Mexican food. We should absolutely get a cheese dip, and I will probably act like I am deciding between a beef soft taco and a cheese quesadilla, but I will ultimately end up ordering both. I hope you call me back before 11 because I am very hungry and you know what happens when I get hungry – my blood sugar drops and I get really cranky. I should probably have a snack now, just in case you don’t call me back before 11. I wonder what I’ll have…maybe some peanut butter crackers…”
And that’s just the part I remember. Ew, it’s even worse seeing it written out like that. Oh GOD what if these people are READING their voicemails via iPhone/Blackberry app or Google Voice?! I’m cringing as I type. The lesson here is clear: after four rings – five, max – hang up the phone.
I went to my first White Elephant Christmas party/gift exchange last night, hosted by Talbott and attended by ten or so. I’m still not entirely sure I understand the premise. Everyone brings an elaborately wrapped gift – I suppose the point is that you want people to choose your gift – but then people can opt to steal the gift you’ve chosen or open their own gift…and then the person whose gift gets stolen is then given the opportunity to steal another’s gift. Oh. I guess I do get it. Perhaps I’m just not that thrilled with the whole deal because someone STOLE my gift. To the grinch who yanked my bottle o’ red and grapefruit hand cream from Woo: I am not happy.
This past weekend I visited my nearest and dearest, Pal “Meat Cleve” Cleveland, in NYC with my other nearest and dearest, Billy Bel. We had hoped to round out our SATC-esque adventure with our fabulous fourth, Sister Pantalones, but due to factors beyond her control she was unable to hop a bird and join us. She was missed.*
There’s nothing like NYC at Christmas! I didn’t even feel embarrassed taking photo after photo of the tree at 30 Rock, or stopping in the middle of very busy crosswalks to get a shot of the Chrysler Building. As you can tell in the latter photo, there was a good bit of jostling going on around me – apparently others did have a problem with my unabashed tourism.
Anyway, we really had the best time, and we had really, REALLY good meals. I had the best pizza I have ever had, ever, at Vezzo in Murray Hill. I didn’t take a photo of it because we were already a subject of ridicule amongst the staff in that they tried to deter us from sitting by giving us padded wait times and saying crap like, “eeeesh, I don’t know, the way things are looking now…it doesn’t look good for you…like at all – you could be waiting for, WOW, I don’t even know how long…”
Thanks, jerk, we’ll just hop next door to the creepy Italian joint decorated solely in Virgin Marys with unforgiving neon lighting and enjoy a $5 glass of house chianti whilst we wait out your alleged “wait.”
It actually did take over an hour, but it was worth it. So worth it that I am glorifying our experience there in spite of the utter rudeness with which we were treated – that’s how big a person I am/how incredible this pizza was.
In addition to tourist activities and food comas, we enjoyed Pal’s neighborhood, a near-death experience in a terrifying cab ride, channeling our inner Goth, and a whole lot of mashing. I would like to comment on how much I appreciate the institution that is brunch in NYC - Hollandaise sauce is my very favorite condiment, and the ginger pomegranate mimosa(s) I tried on Saturday were amazing AND good for my health. ’Twas a glorious time.
We also took the ferry over to Ellis Island and saw The Statue of Liberty….she’s never looked better.
Credit: Hilary M. Bel
* I mean that sincerely, without any irony.**
**It’s Christmas Week – you’re nice to everyone during Christmas Week.
‘Tis the season for movies. The big blockbusters come out during the summer, and then the Oscar-striving ones come out around now – Black Swan, for instance. Black Swan is a really f’ed up and horrifying psychological thriller about a ballerina, played by Natalie Portman, and her inner demons. Mila Kunis plays her rival. Both are amazing and both were recently nominated for Golden Globe Awards.
I left the theater in a cold sweat. I took myself home, poured myself a glass o wine, sat down on my couch, and reminded myself that I am not insane nor am I losing my mind. It was incredibly intense. That said – I highly recommend going to see it.
The next movie I see, I think, will be a light and breezy rom-com. How Do You Know fits this bill perfectly. There’s a love triangle betwixt Reese Witherspoon, Owen Wilson, and Paul Rudd, and then Jack Nicholson is in it, too. I don’t so much care about the plot in rom-coms, mostly I find that it is important that I do not hate the female lead; I happen to love Reese, so we’re all set. HOWEVER, there is one detail that I’m already having enormous difficulty getting my head around, and that is that Reese’s character is an aging…wait for it…PROFESSIONAL SOFTBALL PLAYER.
No, she’s not. It’s utterly unbelievable. Refer to the photos below:
Yeah, I don’t see it either. I should mention that when I goog’ed “professional softball player female” I got a lot of returns on this Jennie Finch person, who is apparently “the most famous female softball player” ever. This is probably because she is blonde and poses in her bikini a lot. I’m not going to include a photo of her because it kind of refutes the point I’m trying to make, but here’s a link. Although, I can think of one person who once played softball – she had her own bat, even – who isn’t terribly beastly…Pallison, does this sound familiar??
Anyway, I think I will accept this egregious error in plot and see the movie anyway. Like I said, I’m kinda in the Dark Side right now after the traumatizing experience of Black Swan (again, I really think it’s a film worth watching), but nothing that a good dose of boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-gets-girl-back can’t fix.
Annie: Pepper lies a lot. She probably hasn’t been to a movie, either. Actually, I think it’s better when you don’t know what you’re missing. Daddy Warbucks: Punjab, buy out the 8:00 show. Let’s all go to the movies.
This morning, on my way to work, I had the pleasure of enjoying Mariah’s, “All I Want for Christmas” which is truly the only way that my two minute commute was bearable. WTF is up with this weather!?!? I know it’s taking over every conversation, from office small talk to gchat taglines, but it’s really messed up. I’m glad I finally sprung for a space heater, although I’m considering going balls-to-the-wall and actually turning on my GAS. I live in a very old building (built in 1929), and the landlord and other tenants say that space heater is the way to go, but I enjoyed my grilled cheese dinner last night in socks, Juicy sweats (ha, I know), long sleeved tee and down puffy vest. That is a ridiculous amount of clothing – especially for moi, as I tend to air on the side of warm-blooded (Meet & Greet: Red-Faced Allie).
Let’s talk about grilled cheeses some more. There are few culinary delights that are more delicious than a plain, old-fashioned, diagonally-cut grilled cheese sandwich made with real butter, soft bread (wheat), and Kraft singles. Holy.Wow. Leila and Lacy have been talking about their grilled cheeses for awhile now, and I decided to buy the ingredients last night. I’ve created a monster; all I can think about is when I’m having my next grilled cheese. I think I might add in some tomatoes to my next round – that way there will be at least a modicum of nutritional value.