I turned 25, and suddenly all my friends are getting married while I'm sitting around perfecting my Sidecar recipe and fighting the patriarchy. Ladies of a certain age and temperament, from fictional Bridget Joneses to real-life every last single gal I know, occasionally dread what the mailbox might bring: a wedding invitation for you and a "guest."
I mean, I'm flattered that they think I'm at least capable of attracting a "guest," but also kind of miffed, because "guest" means "date," doesn't it? I've thrown this question out there to the chattering world of Twitter and Facebook and gotten a variety of responses. I ask you, dear readers, If you "and guest" are invited to a wedding, does the "guest" necessarily have to be a person of potential romantic interest?
The assumption is, of course, yes. You bring dates to weddings, not friends. Even if I show up with a platonic guy friend, people are going to figure we're on a date. And if I show up with a girlfriend, advises a compadre of mine, "Just be ready to field questions about the nature of your relationship."
Methinks a revolution is in order: single folks, instead of searching out a warm body to accompany you for the evening, why not bring a good friend you're not interested in? That way, weddings can become fodder for new love connections, instead of couples parades. What think you, dear readers?
School sucked today. I screwed up "peanut" on the spelling test, got picked on during recess and the only note in my cubby was from the smelly kid. And so I am drowning my sorrows in a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli, one of my favorite after-school snacks.
For serious, though, today has been awful. How awful? Suffice to say that the part where I saw the homeless guy's penis at the grocery store was not the worst moment of my day. (Apparently that's where he keeps his cash.) I wanted something warm and comforting in my stomach as soon as I got home, and so I reached for the Chef.
Eating Boyardee after school is one of my most vivid childhood memories--Mom would dump the lumps o' love into an ugly brown bowl with a handle, and I would munch away while watching Super Mario Brothers. I remember other after-school snacks fondly, as well. Kid Cuisine, Campbell's soups, and a concoction I called "crackers with milk in it," which was comprised of graham crackers immersed in 2% milk. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and grilled cheese, however, were never part of my culinary repertoire, saved for special occasions like friends' houses for sleepovers.
And so I'd like to reminisce with you, dear readers: what was your favorite after-school snack? Latchkey kids, what culinary adventures did you have before the 'rents got home from work?
I love Christmas decorations. Every year this debate comes up. "But you're Jewish!" my fiancé reminds me, insistent on the fact not that Christianity is wrong -- but that I should lack any and all holiday cheer. In general, it should be said, I'm not one of those cheerful, "goodwill toward men" kind of gals. But there's something downright lovely about seeing streets and houses lit up with Christmas lights. Back in suburban Philadelphia, I used to love driving around the neighborhood, spotting more and more outrageous lawn get-ups. Here in San Francisco, I'm getting a big kick out of seeing apartment fronts -- places rented by twenty-somethings like me -- all decked out. And then there are the apartments across the street, all of which have beautiful Christmas trees in the windows. Just looking at them makes me all irrationally glowy inside. So why can't we have one of those? True, our bunny might gnaw on one of the cords and explode. But where is Santa supposed to leave our presents without a tree? Wait, you mean there is no Santa? I blame my Jewish parents for raising me with both Chanukah and Christmas. Then again, I don't blame them for giving me double the gifts.
How about you, dolls? How will you be celebrating the holidays, decoration-wise? Anyone have photos of their particularly festive setup they'd like to share? I'd be happy to post them for the world -- or at least the rest of Heartless Doll -- to admire!
Pounding forehead. Fuzzy brain. Dry mouth. Hangovers are horrid, but luckily scientists have discovered a cure: a big, steaming pile of greasy food. Trouble is, I'm just not a massive fan of breakfast. In fact, I don't know a lot of women who'd pick a stack of pancakes over a savory snack. When I'm tucking into a hangover Rx, I always find myself scarfing down a hamburger while my man o' the hour opts for a traditional heap of eggs, bacon, toast and the like. Even the fabulous Jamie from this season's Top Chef proudly proclaimed in the last episode that she didn't do breakfast, either. So at the risk of making one of those sweeping gender generalizations that I hate, I'm gonna throw this out there: I'm starting to think that men like breakfast more than women do.
I've asked my man o' the hour to contribute to a little point-counterpoint exploration of the breakfast question, offering his views on morning munching.
This Heartless Doll: I'm willing to admit that breakfast has some tasty elements, namely bacon. But I think it's very clear that breakfast negatives far outweigh the positives. Breakfast foods get cold very quickly. Eggs can't hold heat for much more than a few minutes before they get gummy and icky, and a lukewarm ham steak is a meat fate worse than salmonella. Toast doesn't feel very nice on a sensitive morning tongue, and sticky, sweet syrup is too much of a challenge for a recently awakened palette.
Instead of traditional breakfast, then, I suggest what I like to call "food pile." Doesn't matter if it's a hamburger, a plate of spaghetti or a spicy wad of nachos so long as it doesn't take more than one utensil and is completely full of flavor. Forget spreading butter or jam. Don't waste time loading up your fork with the right pancake-syrup blend. Tuck right into a plate of food pile, and your tummy will thank you. Plus, food pile heats up easily for a post-nap snack later on. Mmm, food pile.
Man O' The Hour:You can't get very far in life without making choices. From the moment of birth it begins. Which nipple do I want to nurse from? The right one or the left one? Decision making inevitably gets complicated as one gets older, which is why its such a pleasure to be faced with easy choices. Easy choices like bacon, eggs, toast and hash browns. Faced with a plate like that, I'm more than happy to make a decision.
Breakfast is unique because of all the different foods that are normally crammed onto a single plate. I like to keep my eyes roving over the plate, thinking about what would compliment the ham steak in my mouth.
In this way, a plate of breakfast food is life miniaturized, life made easy. Let's say you're the governor of a Midwestern state and you've been trying all week to decide how much of a bribe to demand for an open Senate seat. That's tough. But once you sit down to a full plate of breakfast food, you are in control again, and all of your choices taste good.
Well, Thanksgiving weekend is officially over. Congratulations, dolls. That means you survived yet another national holiday designed to make you love your family more, which just ends up making you want to fly across the country and not see them for another six months. Oh wait, that's my life. Here's a Someecards card that sums my feelings up perfectly -- as these snarky little bits of Internet wonderfulness often do:
So, now that that's done, have any good Thanksgiving or Black Friday horror stories you'd like to share, dolls? Here are mine. Nothing too dramatic, but vent-worthy all the same:
1) For some reason that will always escape me, our family bird didn't make it into the oven until 7:00 at night. That meant that, by 10:00, when my fiancé was already home from his respective Thanksgiving, full of food and passing out, we hadn't even sat down at the table.
2) Because I'm vegetarian, I had a tofurky for Thanksgiving. The good part: it looked like a little turkey, which let me join in the holiday cheer. The bad part: it tasted like rubbery ham. I've been veggie for thirteen years, but even I know that's not right.
3) I spent Black Friday with my mother at an outdoor market, where a woman selling pretzels mocked the funny-looking hat I'd borrowed from home (it's colder in Philadelphia than in San Francisco!), and then my mom succeeded in convincing me to buy an even funnier looking hat for $14. It's what fur hunters would wear to Las Vegas.
It was kind of shocking to learn that Barack Obama, our dashing president-crush-elect, is apparently rife with food neuroses. Since the campaign post-mortems started coming out last week, we've learned that the President-elect has weird aversions, hang-ups, odd pancake behaviors and a strong abstemious streak — none of which his wife, Michelle, seems to share. As a woman who's lived with picky men, I can relate. As a voter, I feel somewhat blindsided.
I too live with a picky, skinny boy, but I can't help but wonder whether Obama's quirks, which include ordering food from good, old-fashioned American grease joints and then never eating it, don't point toward an eating disorder. Unlike most other presidential candidates, he reportedly lost weight on the campaign trail instead of gaining. He's pretty much a stick to begin with. Maybe he just likes what he likes. Maybe he loses his appetite under pressure. But I know at least one other guy who has a very similar build, a lot of parallel issues with food, and a diagnosed case of anorexia. Being around scrumptious things makes him straight-up sick to his stomach.
While watching Obama's acceptance speech on Tuesday night with a group of fellow twenty-something girls, I was surprised to hear from my friends' mouths not "This is a historic moment in the history of American politics," but "Look at Obama. He's practically glowing. Hey, he's actually pretty hot." Yes, it seems possible that with the election of Barack Obama as the next President of the United States, we may finally have in the White House a man worth fantasizing about.
What has changed about Obama since his days on the campaign trail? He looks less tired. His lips are less purple. His hair is less gray. Suddenly he seems vivacious and happy -- as well he should. Heck, he's nearly handsome. And this, ladies, is the true change he brings to America. Okay, not really, but let's think about it. When was the last time we had a president we could drool over? Certainly not George Bush, whom my mother calls "that monkey man." Bill Clinton? I barely knew what politics were when he was still in office. Sure, he's supposed to be suave. But can you really imagine sitting around daydreaming about that gut?
Yes, it's what Republican men feared would happen if Obama won. All us women would swoon in front of his massive black... intellect. Oh, Barack say something smart to me again!
It goes without saying, dolls, that if you haven't done so already you absolutely have to vote tomorrow. It's not that we won't like you anymore if you don't, it's that we literally won't speak to you. Like, you'll come to Heartless Doll and our blog will be invisible. In its place will be an angry, disappointed looking smiley face that sums up our emotions with keystrokes. Don't let it happen to you :P.
Of course, there's always the question: what will you do once you've voted? Probably you'll go back to work or otherwise continue life as normal. But what about that evening, while you're waiting for the results to come in from across the country? Will you sit around your television set and watch the constantly updating news? Will you refresh an online map of blue and red states again and again? Will you head out to a bar and drown your nerves while watching with the collective, beer-drinking public? Or maybe go to an election party, where you can keep your fingers crossed together...
This doll is planning something in between: heading to a friend's house, watching TV, and stocking up on beer. How about you?
Out this week for Nintendo DS -- the portable video game system preferred by women, children, and men with feelings -- is a game called What's Cooking? with Jamie Oliver. The game, which lets you follow a series of steps to "make" various recipes, is a lot like Cooking Mama, except in this one you get to hear The Naked Chef tell you your food sucks, instead of some random Japanese woman.
All this talk of video game cooking got me thinking of another game, though. It's called Cooking Guide. It's not out yet, but basically it's an interactive recipe book. Watching the video, I'm not so sure this is something I'd ever actually use in the kitchen, however. Fellow dolls who like to cook, what do you think?:
Hey Heartless Dolls, I need some suggestions for what to do for Halloween this Friday. I have this problem every year. Given how much I adore the holiday, it's often hard to find a Halloween activity that will live up to the decoration-filled, candy-eating, pumpkin-carving hype. My fiancé and I have tickets to go see Rocky Horror at midnight, which should be a lot of fun (it would be more fun if all my fishnets and heels didn't live in Philadelphia instead of San Fran), but what's a Halloween lover to do before then? There's not enough time to throw a party and shoo everyone out by 11 p.m.. I hear people tend to dress up and wander SF's Castro District, but that sounds so... wander-y. Here are a couple ideas for evening. Help me rank them in order of lameness or suggest your own alternatives, OK?
- Carve jack-o-lanterns, make hot cider, and watch a scary movie with my roommates.
- Have a Rocky Horror pre-party, get drunk, and spend a really long time dressing up as Magenta.
- Walk up and down the street scanning for, but not seeing, trick-or-treaters.
- Sit around and feel sad, saying every once in a while with mustered enthusiasm, "Hey, it's Halloween!"
I never realized it before this year, but apparently I'm the kind of gal who loves guilty pleasures aimed at preteens. That's right, in addition to Gossip Girl, I also love High School Musical. After hearing so much buzz about the first one, I downloaded it a year or two back and attempted to watch it. I say attempted because I shut it off 15 minutes in, feeling disgusted with the low bar for good movies those who had hyped the film apparently had. Then, months later, I happened to catch it again on TV in France -- meaning, of course, that the entire thing was in French. I should explain that, since I'm not a native French speaker, I love kids' stuff in French. In that language at least, I'm 9 years old. So I discovered, watching High School Musical in a hotel room en français, that it was secretly awesome.
Of course, I had to download High School Musical 2 after that. Now that the third installment of the series about beautiful teens who sing and dance at near-random is out in theaters, I think I actually want to go pay good money to see that. When I announced that to my fiancé last night, he gave me a look that said, "Oh sweet lord, who am I marrying?" Still, when we watched the trailer together I couldn't stop grinning. You just have to let your inner critic go and give in to your inner 9-year-old, and then this movie rocks:
Call me a horrible human being, but I've never been big on watching the nightly news. Maybe it's because I haven't had regular television access since five years ago when I left suburbia for middle-of-nowhere college, but I tend to be pretty oblivious about what's going on in the world. That is, until I started watching The Daily Show and The Colbert Report every night. No, I don't watch them on my TV. I watch them for free online and it is beautiful. Now I know what's going on in the world -- at least the skewed version of what's going on as presented by Comedy Central and NPR's Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me!.
Since I became a regular viewer though, I've been plagued by a crucial question: who is hotter, John Stewart or Stephen Colbert? Personally I prefer The Colbert Report as a program, since it feels more concise and to the point with its sarcasm. And neither man is someone I would see in a crowd and instantly have to pounce. But they both have their handsome, forty-something charms. Plus watching them night after night tunes you in to their adorable quirks. Although Colbert, I'd like you more if you blinked once in a while.
So what do you think, dolls? If you had to choose one comedic news host to jump, which would it be? Oh, and that Rolling Stone cover, which makes Colbert look like a creepy clown, is so not an accurate depiction...
When I walked into the Utilikilts store in Seattle last month, my mind was already made up about men in skirts: it's totally fine if you want to do it, but my boy? No way. I'd seen hordes of gamers wearing these heavy duty kilts covered with cargo pockets at The Penny Arcade Expo. I'd interviewed them about defying gender expectations, about skirt comfort, even what they wear under their kilts. Never though did it cross my mind that these boys could be hot.
Then I met Super Cute Boy. He was working in the Utilikilts store when I stopped by, and he had gorgeous blue eyes and black hair. Plus he totally winked at me when he explained he didn't wear anything under his kilt. Who would have thought a dorky fashion could have turned hot so fast. Now whenever I see a boy in a Utilikilt my heart beats a little faster.
So, fellow dolls, is it just me? I'm I just stuck on that one adorable guy, or is there actually something appealing about seeing a boy in a skirt?
I turned 25, and suddenly all my friends are getting married while I'm sitting around perfecting my Sidecar recipe and fighting the patriarchy. Ladies of a certain age and temperament, from fictional Bridget Joneses to real-life every last single gal I know, occasionally dread what the mailbox might bring: a wedding invitation for you and a "guest." 
As Jezebel notes, our President-elect is 
While watching Obama's acceptance speech on Tuesday night with a group of fellow twenty-something girls, I was surprised to hear from my friends' mouths not "This is a historic moment in the history of American politics," but "Look at Obama. He's practically glowing. Hey, he's actually pretty hot." Yes, it seems possible that with the election of Barack Obama as the next President of the United States, we may finally have in the White House a man worth fantasizing about.
It goes without saying, dolls, that if you haven't done so already you absolutely have to vote tomorrow. It's not that we won't like you anymore if you don't, it's that we literally won't speak to you. Like, you'll come to Heartless Doll and our blog will be invisible. In its place will be an angry, disappointed looking smiley face that sums up our emotions with keystrokes. Don't let it happen to you :P.
Hey Heartless Dolls, I need some suggestions for what to do for Halloween this Friday. I have this problem every year. Given how much I adore the holiday, it's often hard to find a Halloween activity that will live up to the 
Call me a horrible human being, but I've never been big on watching the nightly news. Maybe it's because I haven't had regular television access since five years ago when I left suburbia for middle-of-nowhere college, but I tend to be pretty oblivious about what's going on in the world. That is, until I started watching The Daily Show and The Colbert Report every night. No, I don't watch them on my TV. I watch them for free online and it is beautiful. Now I know what's going on in the world -- at least the skewed version of what's going on as presented by Comedy Central and NPR's Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me!.
When I walked into the 