my little blog

How 'bout them Knicks?

So when I straightened my ‘fro tonight to go get a drink at a swanky Beverly Hills joint where a friend of mine works, I was anticipating fun. What I was not prepared to do was defend my gender to a man I didn’t know who had small hands. What is it with people, both men and women, who cannot seem to hold intellectual conversations without it turning into a debate? This just in: I was never on my high school debate team, nor did I go to law school. Hey fellas, here’s a bit of advice. When you meet a female, don’t look her in the eye and tell her that her gender has it easier than yours. Especially when we’ve just met! I will assume you are awful in bed. I will also assume that you do not have a sister and have repeatedly under-appreciated your Mother.

What happened to guys who respect women? And oh yeah, what happened to BEING NICE?

To My Neighbors

Even though I have no idea who you are, nor would I know you if I woke up next to you, I know I have neighbors. I also know that these walls are thin. Therefore, I would like to say to my neighbors that you are welcome for all the “Glee” musicals I have been performing in my apartment all week. I know what you are all thinking: Someone give that girl in unit 7 a Tony!

ANATOMY OF YOUR PARENTS’ PANTRY

I love going home for the Holidays. The only thing that surpasses actually seeing my parents in the flesh, is eating while at home. My parents eat and cook like they are running a resort in California. Fresh organic produce, fish, caviar. I’m waiting for the day my Dad summons me to the kitchen saying, “Try the foie gras I just whipped up.”

The universal phenomena that amazes me, is the pantry. No matter if your parents eat as mine do, or rely on Hamburger Helper, a parents’ pantry is amazing. It is as if the cabinet itself ran a food drive. Soups - both low-sodium and regular - line the shelves like soldiers. Tomato sauce, beans, pasta, sugar, 3 ketchups, 6 soy milk containers, honey, crackers, pretzels, chips, Cliff Bars…it is like entering a Trader Joe’s only the over-enthusiastic employee says, “It’s all been paid for! Eat away!”

Every time I go home, I sit on the floor, open my parents’ pantry and search: Marshmallows, condensed milk, left-over Halloween candy, cookies that so-and-so just made, teas in every variety (my Mom has a tea problem. An entire shelf is filled with boxes and boxes of tea. Decaf, caffeinated, green, black, white, organic, loose-leaf, bagged, Holiday, English Breakfast, Sleepytime, Peachy-Mango-Berry…)

I do not have any of these food items. My “pantry” looks homeless. If I have sugar, I’m amazed. I never have back-up tomato sauce. What I do have is rice. And coffee. It’s like prison. Never once has condensed milk lived in my pantry. I have perused my brother’s cabinets. He has pretzels. Usually one of the boxes is empty.

I guess that’s what life does to parents. You have children and then buy capers, maple syrup, and rigatoni. Just in case.