holidays and celebrations

STOOPIE BIRTHDAY!

in ,

today is stoopie's 25th birthday!! 
i can't even believe it. 
it seems like it was only three months ago that she was sticking things in her nose and then telling me to eat them.
{oh yeah! it was!}
stoopie is the silliest human bean i know. 
she once ate an entire stick of butter after drinking an entire bottle of cough syrup, 
and then another time she came home with real tattoos all over her back.
she also used to be a vegan... until tout à coup she had a craving for duck. 
and that was right around the time that all of her hair was formed into one massive dreadlock.
when i need a dose of silly, i look to stoopie. 
happy birthday, stoop! 
you smell like a monkey!


xoxo

stoop*



*stoop {stoopie} is the nickname that i gave my sister after she gave it to me. she is stoop. i, too, am stoop. i know. it works if she and i are the only ones who actually call each other that.
 stoop's had her fair share of manfriends that have tried calling me stoop, but then stoop and i didn't know who they were referring to so she had to kick them to the curb.
 the name came about circa 2001 after a series of other nicknames, including "ugly macdougal," "gertrude," and "hey in like flint, that's my favorite movie!"
"stoop" just stuck. i don't think it stemmed from "stupid." if anything, it came from front stoops. we like sittin on stoops. 


week 45: blue smoke

in , ,

i hadn't the slightest idea that barbecue was such a gaga-inducer until i came to new york and met a ton of texas people.
it is like global guts up in here about who has the best barbecue.
my first exposure was at the beginning of my freshman year when i quickly learned that the percussion studio boys will only spend money on food stand and food that comes in enormous quantities. and the only place uptown that would fulfill the latter and that was good for a post-mock audition eat-fest was dinosaur barbecue up in harlem. 
which was sometimes not ok because above 125th street gives me the heebiejeebies. at least it used to.
whatever. the point is, this week was my friend maria's 21st birthday {she's the one in the top picture that looks a bit constipated about all of the ribs in front of her} and she chose to celebrate at 
blue smoke
because people says it's good barbecues. and because it was sure to accommodate our male friends with the bulk food requirements.
this is a picture of charlie+pulled pork:
and plep+jia+a burger:
 peter+one from his rib variety pack:
me+mac and cheese:
and it was a real good time because maria's our girl and also because she started celebrating her 21st at about 9am.
but then as i was digging into my kc ribs, peter started speculating about his meat, a la,
"i wonder why the texas ribs are so much bigger? you think they let the animal grow more before they slaughter it? also, how many dead animals do you think are at this table right now? well, molly, you've easily got a full one in front of you..."
nuh uh.
molly can't talk about meat while she's eating meat.
it's just one of those things.
it evoked an amplified version of the little hippie inside of me saying "don't eat dead! don't eat dead!"
but in his defense,
there was so much meat.
and this coming from the girl that once ate schnitzel every day for a month.
i enjoyed my ribs, but also couldn't completely handle the whole eating-off-the-bone-am-i-wilma-flintstone thing.
it's ok. i sought solace in the mac and cheese, which, although bread crumbless, was tangy and good. especially with texas pete's hot sauce squirted alllll over.
 it was a meat explosion. 
and then the cake came out. 
and maria wished she got a momofuku crack pie for her birthday! 
and then she did cause i gave her one.
i wished {wait, can i wish even though it's not my birthday?} that my upbringing had given me a broader knowledge of barbecue. 
but then the wish gods said, "well it's either that or deep dish pizza." 
and i said, "ok never mind."



xoxo

yeh 


blue smoke is on 27th between park and lex. and it is connected to the jazz standard, in case you're itching for some jazz with your bbq.





becoming schnitzel.

in ,
a narrative d.i.y.

you will need: 
two yards of schnitzel colored fabric, half a yard of yellow fabric, as much green felt as the nice man at the fabric store will give you for free, some needles & thread, 
and either emotional stability or somebody on call for when you need emotional stability. 
clues:
1. cut two pieces of brown fabric into very large matching schnitzel shapes {being careful to include orbs!!}
if you would like to add sexiness, do it now: rip off a shoulder, cut the bottom too short, or create some curve-hugging sections.
2. sew one half together.
3. become frustrated and cry {a la halloween of '06, '02, and '99} 
tweet about it. call mommy. it's ok.
4. sew the other half together.
5. stuff a few socks with paper towels, sew them into the orbs.
sew on the outside of the orbs to create the effect of an extra crispy edge
 at this point you may elect to be a lump of clay or poop. 
6. make a lemon!
cut out a circle, fold it in half, sew most of it, stuff it, sew the rest, draw lemony lines.
7. sew the lemon onto your brown shape wherever you want.
 like this! but also, at this point you can elect to be a long island iced tea.
8. make parsley! 
you may want to google image search "parsley" 
so that you don't end up as a lemon-mint bloody mary or 
a weed-dealing piece of poop with lemon on it. 
and... tada!!
you are a schnitzel.
accoutrements to consider:
-bread crumbs applied with spray glue {not the best idea if you intend to pass your costume down to your future children}
-an empty grey poupon jar as a vestibule for whiskey mustard-colored punch
-a friend dressed as potato salad
-a truck that serves schnitzel as your vehicle
happy hallowiener everybody!!

xoxo

yeh