Try as I might (thanks for nothing match.com) I haven’t had a boyfriend since 2009. It is 2011. In 3 months, we’ll be turning our calendars to 2012. (Damn, math is depressing). I’m not getting any younger so it would probably be a good idea to practice eating my weight in naan if I’m going to move to India for my arranged marriage.
Six months ago, I was enjoying a pre-Avett Brothers show dinner with my college friend Amanda. It was raining then and it was raining last Monday night when I returned to the cozy vegetarian-centric Indian restaurant on Albemarle Road.
For awhile, I was the only one in the place and quite enjoyed fantasizing that I was in my own private dining room.
The fantasy soon faded as hungry patrons dashed in from the elements to warm up with hearty Indian fare. I myself tucked in to an appetizer of samosas, fried triangular pyramids with a filling of potatoes, peas and spices. Served with chutney.
Spinach and cheese, aka palak paneer, and rice with a side of garlic naan. Buttery, soft, warm garlic naan. You light up my life.
With all that garlic naan, there would be no making out for me, even if the opportunity presented itself. It’s been 3 months since the opportunity presented itself. There math goes again, depressing the hell out of me.
Currently on page 188 of this 312 page book. Chances of finishing this before tonight’s book club meeting? Slim to none. But in my defense I’m doing better than last month when I read exactly zero pages from the selected food memoir. I’d be more engaged if food memoirs were scratch and sniff.
I love my job today. I happen to have come across a LexisNexis publication entitled Trademarks Laid Bare: Marks that may be scandalous or immoral. It’s the kind of thing that would make urban dictionary blush. There are even 2 stop signs on the cover warning readers that “portions of this article may offend some readers”. To promote literacy, I think ALL books should have stop signs. You tell me I can’t read something, you better believe that I’m going to break its binding in seconds flat to see what all the fuss is about. Of course I passed it around the office like a bad cold, sharing giggles with co-workers.
In other news, it’s Banned Books Week this week at libraries all over. Go read something you shouldn’t!
enjoys herself at the live taping of Late Night with Jimmy Fallon next month.
When will the day come when I can text my last name to the operator on the other end of the phone? More importantly, will I ever get back the hours of my life that I spent spelling out my last name? That’s it, I’m marrying a guy with the most generic last name on the planet. Watch out, Mr.Jones, I’m comin’ for you!
During one of his songs Friday night at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheatre, Lupe Fiasco sprayed the crowd with water after taking a sip from his bottled water. My Groupon ticket didn’t get me close enough to feel like I was at the Shamu show at SeaWorld. One concert-goer was close enough to throw his shirt onstage, taking the opportunity to request an autograph after Lupe asked for a moment of silence. Mr.Fiasco signed it and kept it, calling him a jerk and reminding the offending fan that a moment of silence was sacred.
I went home to research how much an empty water bottle that Lupe Fiasco drank out of was going for on ebay.
There are days when I think that no one reads this little piece of blogosphere real estate, especially when looking at my daily stats. And then there are other days when readers make their way to the “about” section and scroll all the way down to the bottom to the email address I’ve had since the invention of the Internet and actually write me.
As a result of one email that landed in my inbox a few weeks ago, I have been welcomed into the folds of Restaurant Traffic where I will review restaurants, festivals and maybe some other fun Queen City happenings. Needless to say, I’m excited about this new endeavor. Check out my first post where I visit Cupcrazed.
I had a whole list of things I was going to do this week after work. Everything from meeting Mr.Charlotte to volunteering, but my good intentions should never coincide with the return of such great television programming.
Monday of course, I witnessed the return of Two and a Half Men sans Charlie Sheen. It’s hard to believe that Ashton Kutcher is getting paid $700,000 per episode to be naked. I’m not sure even porn stars get paid that much. Afterwards, I was laughing out loud at 2 Broke Girls, perhaps because I am broke girl myself. Last night’s New Girl wasn’t all that funny and I feel as if I had seen the first episode thanks to all the previews Fox blasted all summer. I think I broke up with Glee since we are spending less and less time together. A quick jump over to Dancing with the Stars to watch Harry Connick Jr. sing a song from his upcoming Broadway musical, On a Clear Day you can see Forever, which needs to be on my itinerary the next time I’m in New York City. Tonight, it’s a Modern Family reunion. They swept up at the Emmys Sunday night.
I apologize in advance if I am unable to put you on my social calendar. It’s just that my anti-social calendar is really filling up. Try me again in May.