This and That

Alcohol has this amazing way of at the time making you feel absolutely invincible and witty and fantastic. The next day, as it wends its way out of your system, it will make you feel like a giant ball of failure. I definitely feel the latter today. I somehow got accidentally drunk on a Wednesday night. Yep. Accidentally. Not my fault. 2 beers with the amazing and fantastic Linds, in town on a short jaunt from New Hampshuh, somehow turned into knowing vaguely that I went to a certain bar last night where I'm sure I had a beer but no recollection today of actually being there. I win at life. And I lost my credit card. Again. Geezus H Christ, Lisa, get your shit together.

Which is kind of funny because I HAD been feeling together. Probably the effect of NOT drinking and not going out. I need to go back to that. Thinking of a six month cleansing sabbatical after LSU plays in the National Title Game. I was applying to jobs, focusing on some goals, trying not to panic about not having any money at all. But I backslid into bad behavior and now I'm doing research for my "client" (I can't have a client. It feels weird. So quotes.) and feeling like I am never ever gonna be a good lawyer. That's amazing.

Anyway. I started two very different posts yesterday but could never manage to finish them and found them boring. One was on how no one actually understands the first amendment and how that makes me want to kill them and the other was a reflection on my dogs. You're welcome for not hitting publish. Instead, I have some random thoughts I'll spit out in list form.

1. Unsolicited endorsement: I don't consider myself a music person. I like pop music, I don't think too much about new hip bands, and I can't tell you the last time I saw a live show of any sort. My interest is very passive. But I was watching a TV show the other night and this song by a band called the Lumineers was played at the end and I fell in love. I've listened to it at least 2 dozen times, if not far more. I'll probably hate it at some point and never want to hear it again but for now it's on an endless loop. So listen and I hope you like it too and if/when they play here, I plan on going and being hip and listening to a live band.

2. About that TV show: I was watching Hart of Dixie. It's the sort of ridiculous CW fare that I am knowing for loving (though I was on the Veronica Mars bandwagon long before that was cool). I make no apologies. I even sort of think they are attempting to get a little bit of Southern culture right with the main hang out bar being called the Rammer Jammer, a reference to the University of Alabama. Rachel Bilson is freaking adorable. (Even if my college roommate tainted my view of her by saying that when they were in HS together she was a bitch. I still am a bitch so I won't hold that against her.)

Jaime King is also in this show where she plays the over the top kind of Southern girl that Hollywood gets wrong. She is never not in some floral patterned summer dress with so much mascara on she can't possibly keep her eyes open. Her focus is Junior League and other silly festivals, all of which she treats with the utmost importance. And something about this character just grates on me. That sort of over-simplified sorority girl thing that doesn't actually exist in the South. I also don't really get the characters motivations and why I'm supposed to care about her or why she's with the guy she's with (a major plot issue on the show) other than that's just the way it's always been.

After watching the show on Monday, I off the cuff tweeted how I was annoyed by the stereotypes of the character and wish she'd been more complexly drawn. Don't give it a second though.

Last night, as I'm half in the bag already because I was drinking and hadn't eaten since breakfast, a response tweet shows up. Jaime King has taken exception to my characterization of her character. First of all: my criticism is not of her acting. It's of the way the character has been drawn. I'm smart enough to know that she's not the one that writes the character, just imbues the words with life. Secondly, if I looked like Jaime King, what some bitchy insignificant girl in San Francisco thinks of my character while I get to be, ya know, JAIME KING, wouldn't matter. In the least.  Seriously. I WISH I looked like this, lived in Hollywood, was doing well in my career, made out with Scott Porter for work. (Actually I'd rather make out with Wilson Bethel but that's a different issue.)

But, in the way that I do, I've now been obsessing about what about the character bugs me and been thinking way harder about it, giving it far more creedance than I should because I somehow managed to upset Ms. King. So: the character is frivilous and silly and focuses on all these pageants and causes while absolutely ignoring those around her. I really, as mentioned, don't understand the relationship she's in and would like background on those choices. She is obviously in love with someone else so sticking with this current guy rings false and I don't like the lack of guilt at her cheating. Her hatred of big city living isn't well explored. I get enjoying small town life but the hatred of big city life just because is narrow minded. I do appreciate that she loves this small town and wants to protect. The constant gowns are silly and the hats and the...look, this is 2011. Let's not pretend all small town Southern girls are so stuck in a time warp. The Southern girls, the fierce Southern girls I know, are far more complex than is being portrayed. All that said, I think the character does have true heart and her love for her town and protection her family are admirable and interesting qualities. The mother issues and being conflicted about love even while rushing headlong in one direction are areas that have potential to be really interesting.

Yeah. That's a lot of words on a CW show. That I actually really enjoy. But, ya know, I, silly girl in SF, somehow managed to upset a Hollywood actress so I thought I'd attempt to clarify my stance. The internet is really weird you guys. But since this is apparently how it works: if Chris Evans would like to contact me and hang out, I'd be down. Also: I want to marry Brooks Laich. So. Let's make that happen, mkay, internet?

3. Speaking of shows: That season finale of Sons of Anarchy was total crap. You owe your viewers more respect than that, Kurt. It was such a poorly drawn, easy out on the season long storyline it was insulting. But Justified is back soon and that will make me forgive FX a little bit.

4. I'm putting this here just because I don't want to forget it and I have the worst memory ever, even though it feels braggy to me: Linds and I were having a heart to heart over a pint yesterday, first time we've seen each other since May even though we gchat almost daily and we're just talking about life and all things in general and Linds says, "You seem like you've matured a lot in the last few months." I said something self deprecating like, "Which makes zero sense because I haven't actually DONE anything." And Linds said, "No! You have. You're really takin this time to consider the kind of person you want to be and making changes. That's really important." And I thought, "Huh. There's probably some truth to that." It made me feel really good! I'm on the path to not being a total screw up, apparently. Then I got drunk and acted like a jerk so there is still mad work to be done. And I really suck at this whole "being a lawyer trying to figure out the kabillion things they didn't teach us in law school" thing. So. Yeah. Baby steps?

5. Linds and I were talking about one of our law school classmates who lives near her in New England. Linds said, "I can't hang out with her because she's too optimistic. Does that say something about me as a human being that I only like dark twisty people in my life?" The funny thing is that I knew exactly what she meant. I've known some sickeningly saccharine people in my life and I just want to punch them. I told her I didn't think there was anything wrong with her because it made perfect sense to me. When you're THAT optimistic it feels like a disconnect from reality. Sometimes shit just sucks, yo, and if you can't admit that then that's...weird.

6. Hey! The trailer for that movie that was filming in SF where I met Jason Segel and Emily Blunt is up! That's cool.

And that's all I got for now, kids. I'm gonna go fail at being a lawyer some more while staring at my red sparkly Christmas nails. It's kind of nice to have football wrapped up for a month so my superstitious nature gets put at bay and I can actually do something besides purple. It's the little things...

12-0

We did it. We're 12-0. A perfect regular season. Easily the most dominant team in college football. We beat 7 ranked opponents on the way to that record, including #3 TWICE and #2. If we haven't earned a trip to the BCS title game, I don't know who has.

Unfortunately, it's not over. We have to make a trip to Atlanta next week to take on the University of Georgia Bulldogs (a mascot that I cannot add to my menu, unfortunately. Though, maybe hot dogs?) to play in the SEC Championship game. Win that game and we punch a ticket to New Orleans for the national title game. Lose that game...and there is still, according to those who know such things, a chance that we can make it to New Orleans. The National Title being held in New Orleans almost makes it a home game. We've won it the last two times it was held in New Orleans. Ticket prices go WAY up (those futures available on Gilt look like a steal now, but you surely know that at the beginning of the season my superstitious nature won't let me purchase them. That, and even at face value, I don't have the money).

Trying

Know how pretty much every story from every Saturday in football season goes, "Went to bar, got drunk, LSU won, met a boy, sooooo hungover"? Yeah. Not this one. Other than LSU winning, it was the opposite of all that. Suckeh suckeh sucks. Actually, just listen to this:

Avenue Q pretty much sums up my life right now. And not in a good way. I'm trying to be positive and have a "YAY! CAN DO!" attitude. People, you should know by now I am not made for that sort of sugar coated bullshit attitude. Which means there is a lot of complaining after the jump.

Mashed Potatoes

I haven't posted anything food related on here in awhile and as I continue to avoid looking at my pathetic bank account, I figured I'd give you guys something to do on Thanksgiving that will make your parents proud of your ability to actually feed yourselves. Thus: Mashed Potatoes! I mean, how can you not love these? I am one of those people who takes potatoes over sweets 9 times out of 10 (with the body shape to prove it) so I might not be the best example but yeah, mashed potatoes are the best (well, next to french fries, and au gratin, and a loaded baked and scalloped...). It's fairly stupid easy but, well, I've had discussions with some of you about not owning the most rudimentary of kitchen utensils so we start with the basics.

And, in fact, for this being a stupid easy thing to make, potatoes surprisingly have a lot of their own tools. Just to get starches down our throat. I know, right? Also: if you are eating instant mashed potatoes, I don't want to talk to you. At all. Ever. It's an affront to the potato. And bad economics. A box of instant potatoes is, what, $3.99? A 10 lb bag of potatoes costs about that and yields way more. Don't EVER eat anything instant, do you hear me? There are just no excuses. If you're gonna kill yourself, if should be with real butter and cream and home cooked foods. /climbs off soap box  Minor exception: frozen veggies CAN be better than fresh, especially in the case of peas, but other than that: no.

(Oh! An aside! (you've missed these): When I moved from the all natural state of California to the deep fried state of Louisiana, getting used to their cooking habits took me a long time. And mostly I rebelled against them and tried to change their ways. Other than incorporating Tony's heavily into my repertoire, learning I would be looked at funny if I said "soda", and upping my spice tolerance, that is. Why in god's green earth does everyone in the south use freaking margarine? WHY?! It makes exactly zero sense. I'm pretty sure it's been proven to be worse for you than regular butter. My college roommate, smart, gorgeous, ridiculously popular, had it in our fridge when I moved into our room. "What in the hell is that?" I asked her. Seriously you guys, I'd never seen it before. Never. I'd also never heard the n word spoken out loud 'til I moved to Louisiana either, so, ya know, yay for being a sheltered Californian? I was unfamiliar with this weird tub of butter-like substance. It seemed, as I learned more about the South, to be a staple of every household. One that I to this day do not comprehend. If I'm going to kill myself, it is going to be with full fat, full flavored, full caloried butter. Not that imitation crap. So, just, yeah, BUTTER in your mashed potatoes.)

Utensils:
Large pot
Potato peeler
Strainer
Potato masher
Knife

Cooking items:
Salt
Stick o' butter
Russet potatoes, 4lbs-ish, but really you can do this with any amount
cream, about a half cup.

Rinse the potatoes. This makes them easier to peel. I don't know why, just trust me on this. Take your potato peeler and peel the potatoes. Don't have a potato peeler? I think you're lame and should go to the store and buy one because they cost about $3 but if you insist, a paring knife will do. Just be extra super careful. If you're using a peeler, it's pretty self explanatory, take it and peel off the skin. I make this a competition if someone is "helping" me do this. I can get through ten pounds of potatoes in less than 30 minutes. If ever in prison, this skill will likely come in handy. If you're using the knife, you're going to take thin ribbons of potato skin off. I like to make a game when using a knife of how much I can peel off without lifting the knife off the potato. Yes, I'm well aware that I might need something like a life.

Alright, your potatoes are peeled. Rinse them again to get rid of the rest of the dirt. Cut them into 1 inch cubes (in half lengthwise, in half lengthwise again, run knife down to cut them into roughly uniform pieces). Throw potato cubes in a pot, add water to cover. Add a ton of salt. Place on stove on high heat. Wait for them to boil. Boil the bejeezus out of them. You should be able to stab them with a fork and not meet any resistance. I do want to caution against over boiling. You can leave them boiling forever, 'til they're falling apart and they'll still make a decent mash but they're much better, contain less water, if you make sure they retain their shape. So boil on high for about ten minutes and check them, then check them every five minutes until they're done. You are WAY better off overcooking than undercooking though. No one likes crunchy mashed potatoes. Err on the side of too much rather than not enough.

When fork tender, carefully remove pot from stove and strain potatoes.

Now, if you want to be fancy, you can combine the butter and cream over low heat in a sauce pot on the stove. All the chefs in the world would tell you to do this, but whatever, it's not necessary. Oh, and we're using cream. Yes, cream. It's actually called "Heavy Whipping Cream". It's Thanksgiving. Don't be the asshole who makes the healthy version of mashed potatoes with your 1% milk. Everyone will hate you. In particular me. Oh, and you can use more than just a stick of butter. Use all the butter you want. Pretend you're Paula Deen and butter those potatoes up. 1 cube was just a starting point. There's actually an inside joke in my family where we call mashed potatoes with equal parts potato to butter French mashed potatoes. This stems from when we were in France (pretentious anecdote alert) eating at Le Jules Verne. My entree came with a small copper pot on the side loaded with the most insanely decadent mashed potatoes ever. And whenever we eat at French restaurants, their butter/potato ratio still seems to be about equal. Thus: really buttery mashed potatoes are French mashed potatoes. Made funnier if my mom says it in an accent. (This is actually a restaurant trick for just about everything. Want to know why their food tastes better than yours? They've added butter all along the way, way more than you would ever dream of using at home, to make their food taste good.)

Once you have strained your potatoes, return them to the pot. Turn the heat back on low. You're essentially going to dry out your potatoes without cooking them. Do this for about five minutes, stirring them occasionally. (You are free to skip this step.)

Get out your masher. I recommend one that looks like this:

That's my preference. I like my mashed potatoes a little rustic and not perfect so that masher works for me. If you want super silky smooth mashed potatoes, run them through a food mill or a ricer. If you have to ask what a ricer is, get the thing pictured and don't be such a gunner, okay? For the love of god do not use a mixer. Whipping mashed potatoes makes them super extra starchy somehow and tasting like what I can only imagine cafeteria food tastes like so while that may seem like a reasonable short cut, it is not and the potato gods will know and smite you. Do. Not. Whip. Your. Mashed. Potatoes. Got that? This whole thing isn't taking you that long anyway, so deal with it. (The worst part is peeling. What can I say? Thousands of years of human evolution and a peeler or a knife is the best we can do. Yes, there is also the apple corer but it wastes a lot of the potato.)

Pour your melted butter/cream mixture over the potatoes and get to mashing. If you didn't melt those together, no worries. Just cube up your butter and toss it in the potatoes and pour the cream over the top. You might want more than my guess at an estimated amount of cream, depending on how loose you want your potatoes/how well they're holding up. You don't want them swimming in cream but you want the right consistency. As with the Supreme Court's ruling on pornograph: you'll know it when you see it.

Mashing them is very basic behavior. Just get in there and mash 'em up. Do it until you have the consistency you want. Like I said, I don't like mine perfectly smooth, a few lumps and a rough consistency is right for me. But it's up to you. You'll know. (I'm saying that a lot here, but just trust your instinct. You can always go in and mash more) Make sure you at least thoroughly incorporate the butter, cream, and potatoes.

You'll need to taste test along the way. Add more butter or cream as you see necessary. You might need to throw in a heavy pinch of salt. Because fun fact: potatoes don't really taste like anything. That's why you'll be covering these in turkey gravy later. So add more butter, cream, and salt until they taste perfect to you. Again: you'll just know when you got it right. This is a fairly un-fuck-up-able recipe. It may end up too salty, it may end up a little too creamy but they'll still be edible. 

You can make the mashed potatoes well ahead of dinner, just leave them in the pot and then reheat them on low heat while stirring. If you don't stir and use anything but low heat, you will burn the mashed potatoes and ruin Thanksgiving. Yes, ruin it. Don't do that.

If you want to be fancy, you can add sour cream for a little tang to your mashed potatoes. Cream cheese will add, well, creaminess. You can roast garlic (bulb of garlic, top sliced off, drizzle of olive oil, wrap in foil, place in oven for 1 hour at 375, smush out bulbs) and add it to your mashed potatoes. Fresh rosemary is nice, as well as other fresh herbs. You can do any or all of that if you want extra credit. But frankly? I'm a purist. Just the salt, butter, and cream for me. And then slathered in turkey gravy.

Can't wait for Thanksgiving...

A Wedding and A Londoner

My good friends got married on Friday. Yes, they had an 11-11-11 wedding. And I was super happy for them. Their wedding on the other hand? Folks, I promise you if I ever get married and have a big fancy wedding (which it will be big and fancy because along with football fanatic, I am a princess), I will have a wedding planner to make sure shit runs smooth. You need to have someone take care of all the ball busting on the day of the wedding, to make sure people are in their place and things are running on time, because you're too busy being happy in love. Or whatever.

LSU v Bama

Did you guys know about the game of the century? That completely isn't, because we're only 11 years into the century? If you follow my Twitter account or my Facebook you did. You had to. Because it's all I could think/talk/comment about all week. If you are living under a rock and didn't read anything from any major media outlet in the week preceding it, let me 'splain: LSU, then ranked #1 in the whole country, was taking on the University of Alabama, then ranked #2, under the lights of Bryant-Denney Stadium in Tuscaloosa, AL.

This game was such a giant deal that CBS negotiated with ESPN to have the rights to broadcast it at night. People were selling tickets on Stubhub for obscene amounts of money.

I had actual nightmares about the game. In one nightmare I had my nails shellacked red at game time and I couldn't get it off in time for kickoff and panicked that this would cause my team to lose. In others I couldn't get to the bar or there was nowhere to sit at the bar and it all caused me lots of anxiety. I spent my waking hours reading about the game and thinking about how the pass protection would work and how in the name of all that is holy we were gonna stop the beast that is Trent Richardson. I had visions of houndstooth, which is becoming as annoying as creamsicle orange. I fretted and worried and was anxious. Football fandom: it's an illness.

My worries were not for nothing. Saturday was...kind of a disaster. I mean, we won, and that's awesome. We get to breathe easy for a moment before we don't overlook the Western Kentucky Hilltoppers and then face a current #9 Arkansas team the day after Thanksgiving, games that sandwich a road trip to Oxford to take on Ole Miss who would be happy to play spoiler. Get through those three games and then we play in Atlanta in the SEC Championship game against, most likely, Georgia. And though we're the number one team in the country that a) means you have a giant target on your back and b) you can get lax and slip up. *deep breath* Being a fan is really fraught for me. So much so that I almost cried when an hour ago I thought I lost one of my lucky LSU earrings. Fortunately I figured out where it was, but more on that in a bit...

Waves on waves

Yesterday, and today so far, were so much better than the emo bullshit filled Monday. (My dad is currently in surgery and I have to go pick him up in a bit, so there's still that.)

I got my nails did and then made myself walk the half a mile or so down the beach to check out the Rip Curl Pro by myself. I was glad I did. Ocean Beach has never felt more like the North Shore of Oahu or Huntington than it currently does. And watching pro anything is so much different than amateur anything. These guys, these professionals who do this for a living and points and money (first prize is $75k!), are amazing to watch. And hot. And that brings attractive people to the beach.

I followed surfing a bit in high school. I had magazines and such but I have never surfed myself (one of those things I am chicken about doing for fear of sucking. I need to get over that). I lived across the street from Ocean Beach since I was 13 and somehow was friends with a few surfer kids who would drop by and hose off in my garage. But when I moved to Louisiana, I stopped following it. There isn't much use for surf knowledge in South Louisiana, outside of it being an adorable quirk.

(My roommate, a Southern Californian, and I were once walking across campus in decidedly surfer style clothes, I was wearing boy board shorts a lot back then, she was in a bucket hat with braids, and some guy stops us and says, "I think you got lost on your way to the beach." So clever, frat boy!) (It's so weird to think of that being my fashion. Feels really far removed from now. Tons of Rusty and Quicksilver. I always wore long shorts, no daisy duke stuff, and I was all insecure then (shocked face) but I bet I looked kinda adorable walking around all California surfer cool in Louisiana, even when it was mostly guy clothes because no one was really making awesome girls clothes yet. Plus, ya know, skinny, not unattractive, completely unaware. Ah to be 19 again...)

Anyway, the surfing was amazing, the sun was fantastic, the crowd watching was also fantastic. I don't know quite how the schedule for this thing works or when it ends or how long it lasts but I want to check all of it out that I can. I'm a little bummed I can't catch Kelly Slater's heat later, as my high school/watching too much Baywatch self would very much like to check that out but such is life.

I ended up talking to my dad's best friend who was on the beach, as he came to check out the surf competition too. He wants me to consult on his landlord/tenant/contract dispute issue. I told him I would, once he got me some more information. The sheer fantastic irony of it is that dad's best friend is the 22 year old jackass's older brother.

I am a HUGE fan of the slow burn. Of revenge being a dish best served cold. The long con. I don't need to tell you go to screw off right now and angrily. I need to just be around to make your life miserable and ruin something later. I am not patient about many things, but being right, getting my way, and proving you to be the jackass that you are? That I can be patient about. Yeah, I'm kinda evil. You aren't surprised. (To clarify: me being around and having an opportunity to be present for anything that may happen gives me the opportunity to employ future revenge. Like when he, in a years time, wants to bartend at our family party and I get to vehemently say no.)

I was surprised when my mom kept making these cutting comments about my dad's surgery and being jealous that I've been over there a lot lately and I thought "Geez lady! Just. Let. It. Go." They've been divorced far longer than they've been married at this point. Twice as long, in fact. And then I had the ah-ha moment and went, "Oh. Ha. I guess that's where I get my own grudge holding as all get out nature from. Go figure." We're working on these things. I promise.

So: here's to more surfing, a continued uptick in mood, and oh yeah, an LSU victory on Saturday. And less emo bullshit. Muah!