fashion – Page 2 – The High Heeled C*ntessa

Climate Change and Lentil Bolognese

90 degrees on the first day of Fall… global warming is a real bitch…. I finally bought some sweaters and tights and I’m still wearing sleeveless button-ups. I remember when I was young, we were lucky if it was 65 degrees this time of year!

I want to plan a world-wide work strike against climate change – I’m just not sure how to get started. Imagine the reduction in carbon emissions even if only just for one day, if the majority of people (or ideally all people) took the day off of work and didn’t use their car, and if factories couldn’t operate because they had no workers?! I should take some tips from Greta Thunberg and just start solo-striking all alone… I’m pretty sure I’ll lose my job in the first week…

I was home this past weekend (well, Thursday-Saturday…) to get Tuna neutered. The cost of the vet upstate is about 1/3 of what it is in the greater NYC area. Totally work taking a couple of days off of work (I mean, what isn’t worth taking days off work???). It was also nice to be home with just my parents and to enjoy some end-of-summer weather.

Beautiful goldenrod everywhere… I love this time of year when everything turns shades of mustard and gold

My parents and Max walking out of our woods

I’m so happy I finally bit the bullet and took the days off to make the trip home and get Tuna neutered. At least it’s done and over with now and he is pretty much back to normal.

If you want to see more pics of the cats or of Tuna in his Handmaid’s Tale cone, here you go: instagram.com/peepsandtuna

Because I can’t post a picture of one without posting the other (that would make me a bad mom…), here’s Mr. Peeper at his finest

This probably won’t be here in the next 20 years if global warming continues unabated

Pictures never do real life or lighting justice sadly. I cleaned out my closet a couple of weeks ago and found so many things that I bought with every intention of wearing in a specific outfit, and which have never seen the light of day. The below tutu skirt is one of them…. I know tutu skirts are very SJP circa 2000’s Sex in the City, but It makes for some pretty fun outfits:

Paired with my fave Hello Kitty Sweatshirt

My favorite escape in Brooklyn – Greenwood Cemetery …

I made a really good vegetarian Bolognese with lentils last week, the recipe of which is based directly on my classic Bolognese recipe:

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Here is the recipe:

INGREDIENTS:

3 cups of cooked lentils (brown or French) (roughly 1 and 1/2 cups dry lentils cooked in 3-4 cups of veggie stock, for flavor)
1 box pasta of your choice (rigatoni, spaghetti, penne, linguini all work great)
1/3 cup olive oil (enough to coat the bottom of a large sauce-pan)
2 large carrots, finely chopped
2 stalks of celery, finely chopped
1/2 of a white or yellow onion, finely chopped
4 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
1 cup dry, white wine (Pinot Grigio works well!)
1 cup freshly shaved Parmesan (plus more to sprinkle over finished pasta)
1 large can of San Marzano crushed tomatoes
1 small can of tomato paste
fresh parsley
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 Tbs. dried basil
1 Tbs. dried oregano
1 tsp. red pepper flakes
1 tsp. granulated sugar
1 tsp. granulated garlic
Salt and pepper (add to desired taste)

DIRECTIONS:

Pre-cook your lentils, boiling in veggie stock until tender (but not over-cooked or mushy, since they will finish cooking in the sauce!)
Set aside the lentils once cooked, and heat the olive oil in a large sauce pan over a low-medium heat
Add in onions and cook until a yellow-y translucent color (about 6 minutes), stirring occasionally
Add in carrots and celery and continue to cook over low-medium heat, stirring occasionally for another 5 min.
Add in garlic and continue to cook and stir, being careful not to burn garlic
Add in the already cooked lentils and cook for a minute over low-medium heat.
Add in the white wine and simmer for about 3 minutes
Add in the can of crushed tomatoes along with the granulated garlic, sugar, salt, pepper, dried basil and oregano, and crushed red pepper; stir together and reduce to low heat
Add in the small can of tomato paste and stir in thoroughly; continue to stir and cook over a low heat.
After cooking over low heat for another 10 minutes or so, add in the heavy cream and stir
Add in the Parmesan cheese and continue to stir and cook, making sure cheese is incorporated into the sauce

Add in the fresh chopped parsley and stir
I advise taste-testing as you go along to ensure the sauce has a good balance – feel free to add more salt, pepper, pepper flakes, oregano/basil, or sugar if needed
Let the sauce continue to simmer over minimum heat and boil a large pot of heavily salted water for the pasta
Cook pasta according to cook time advised on packaging; once pasta is cooked to al dente, drain and either add to sauce pan, if large enough, or back to pot and then add the Bolognese sauce into the pot of pasta – stir well
Serve in bowls with freshly grated Parmesan over-top and a garnish of fresh parsley or fresh basil!

This dish is perfect for fall… super hearty, tasty, comforting and high in fiber (if you know what I’m saying….)

Mushroom “burger” (aka, mushroom patty?) I made last night

Too lazy to write another recipe. Cheers.

All About My Cats… and Maine

Sunset behind our hotel, the Newagen Seaside Inn, Boothbay Harbor Maine

I am back from my “grand” vacation of the year… a week in Maine with my family and boyfriend. It was relaxing, as was to be expected, way too full of eating (also to be expected) and not nearly a long enough escape from the hell that is my job and this wretched city (also, to be expected…). What vacation would be long enough though? Apart from a permanent vacation….

Lobster bake at the hotel… one of the best parts of Maine for me is the abundance of not just lobster, but all seafood – especially chowders. I FUCKING LOVE chowders.

I didn’t do as much physical activity as I had hoped to do prior to embarking on my vacation. The hotel had bikes to take out, but the roads surrounding the hotel were not at all conducive to biking as there was no shoulder on the road at all. I also thought the hotel would have kayaks, but sadly all they had were some pitiful rowboats, which I conned my boyfriend into taking out with me one afternoon. We didn’t last more than 40 minutes in the row boat, as the waves around the island we were attempting to skirt around got very choppy on one end, and the oars kept slipping out from the oar holders.

Naturally the one time I took the row boat out the tide was going out and the waters were getting rough… it was still fun. I love being on water, or in water, as long as it’s above 90 degrees.

Boothbay Harbor itself is a sleepy little town with not much to do besides eat, drink, and relax… or go boating. Which is precisely what we did. We took a chartered sail boat out one day as a family which was really nice. We also walked around the little town and explored the shops and restaurants. I’d have to say, my favorite meal of the week was honestly at the local Italian restaurant, Ports of Italy. Who would have thought that a coastal town in Maine would have such a good Italian restaurant?! Not me. I had the frutti di mare, and this amazing cold seafood salad as an appetizer. Everything was awesome, including the wine. My second favorite meal, was probably at the hotel’s dining room on the last night of our stay.

Mussels everywhere! I ate a lot of mussels while I was in Maine…. I’d have to say they’re my favorite mollusk besides oysters.

View from the sail boat… the captain and his first mate were very knowledgeable of the area, the history of the area, and very friendly and hospitable sailors! I would definitely take another sailboat with the Schooner Eastwind again.

More mussels… and a whole lot of butter.

There was also an alpaca farm near the hotel, where my niece, my sister and myself got a lovely tour from one of the owners and learned a whole lot about alpacas and agriculture! They also had some beautiful chickens that I was obsessed with spotting each and every time we passed their farm in the car.

We made a day trip to Freeport to hit up L.L. Bean’s and the outlets… I got some sweet plaid pants from Calvin Klein that I am VERY excited to wear this fall. I’ve been looking for plaid pants for the last year, and these are JUST what I was looking for. My other “big” purchase for myself was a copy of Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential, which I cannot put down once I pick up to start reading. Sadly, my work schedule and demanding cats have been preventing me from picking it up more than I would like this week….

My boyfriend and I also took a drive to downtown Portland to explore. Portland is such a nice, clean, small city with a lot of awesome bars and restaurants. We are planning on going back for a long weekend stay this winter to do more exploring and see just how much worse winter in Maine could be than in NYC.

On our way back from Portland, we checked out a suburb called Cape Elizabeth, which had a surprisingly awesome park that we explored. I was disappointed to find there was no beach though – just a bunch of rocks. The rocks were beautiful, but I am sad to say I didn’t don a swimsuit once this vacation to either get in the pool, hot tub, or ocean. I didn’t go to the beach even once this summer… now that is sad.

I know… I know… I basically take the Instagram/fashion blog shots of others that I would hope they could take of me. Sadly, no one ever takes good candids of me. They get me when I’m looking down and have five chins, or from some weird angle where my body looks like Jabba the hutt. I just know people’s angles… what can I say? I mean, even the shot of the alpaca up above is flattering.

B951B3FB-570C-4FC5-8C4D-E547E19D5B73 — As you can see, the fake tan from my last post is long gone, and sadly not coming back anytime soon. I did, however, acquire plenty of freckles on my face, shoulders, and arms.

I milked my vacation for all it was worth, and scheduled a hair appointment when I came home for some red low lights (I’m going white in my temples, and color is now a necessity if I don’t want to look older than I am), and continued eating like a fatted calf for the remainder of the weekend spent in Bainbridge (you name it, I ate it… I did resist meat however, which I am very proud of). I cooked a mean carbonara for my parents upon returning home Friday night, and then on Saturday night, feeling inspired and not wanting to let the trend of devouring seafood die, I made a linguine with clams for family dinner.

When I came back to NYC, fatter and broker than ever on Sunday evening, I entered into a dark vortex of negative thoughts and resentment towards this city and towards my job, which I am still trying to turn around. I have to get out of this city as soon as I can… I’m just so over it. I also started resenting my choice to get low lights… I think the red is too dark and doesn’t flatter me. But that could just be me being me. I am hoping the color fades/lightens in the next couple of weeks. I’m trying to eat healthy this week, so sadly, I won’t be cooking anything fun.

Ah yes, almost forgot – the second part of this blog: while I was bored out of my mind one night on vacation (since the entire town of Boothbay Harbor shuts down after 8pm, and even the hotel bar was dead after 9pm), my boyfriend and I somehow came up with human profiles for each of our cats, which continued to escalate in absurdity until I wrote the full biographies on Sunday to post on IG. If my cats were humans, here is the type of humans they would be:

MEET TUNA:

Tuna is a door man at a strip club in Queens. He isn’t allowed at his uncles or grandparents house for the holidays because he was caught stealing Christmas ornaments off the tree to sell for cash to buy meth. He spent his high school days in remedial math classes and detention. When Tuna comes home, his parents have to lock up their medications. He usually shows up to family dinners with a 6-pack of Budweiser, and a half-eaten box of Enntemmen’s powdered donuts. Tuna enjoys tailgating at high school football games, fixing dirt bikes, dabbling in psychedelics, and fights at dive bars. Tuna’s idea of a perfect vacation is a week at Water Safari. Tuna’s greatest aspiration in life is to own a worm farm and grow magic mushrooms, as well as to make it to the Trump 2020 rally in Cincinnati. Tuna is a Dooms Day prepper who keeps a stash of ammo, AK-47s and ramen noodles in his parents’ attic. Tuna has a girlfriend named Crystal, who is five months pregnant with another man’s baby… but he doesn’t care, it’s true love. Tuna prefers to be called Chip.

MEET MR. PEEPER:

Peeper is a professor of anthropology studies at University of Oxford. He has a Ph.D. in law and women’s studies from Harvard. Growing up, he was the pride and joy of his parent’s lives – he was a straight-A student, Eagle Scout, and spent his summers voluntarily de-worming orphans in underdeveloped nations. He speaks 5 languages fluently and works as a volunteer, teaching deaf children Cantonese. He enjoys wine tasting, oil painting, baking clotted cream scones, throwing elaborate dinner parties, and donating money to Harvard and Yale science departments. He was also a good friend of The late Jeffrey Epstein – for 10 years they ran a mathematics camp for underprivileged teenagers. When Peeper isn’t working or volunteering, he enjoys traveling to the Cayman Islands, South Africa, and to his winery in Provence. He is married to a woman 25 years his junior, and together they have three perfect, little globe-trotting protégées named Theodore, Eloise, and Amadeus who are all geniuses.

Korn and Corn

I love rock concerts – they’re the perfect excuse to dress the way I wish I could dress all day, every day… what can I say? Old habits die hard.

Once again, I haven’t written in a while because I’ve been too caught-up in the daily grind of working to pay bills and maintaining my apartment and cats. I try to go out and party when I have an opportunity to do so, taking advantage of the fact that it’s summer, but then I feel guilty when I spend precious hours of free time recovering from a night out on the town or I end up spending a Saturday doing a weeks-work of cleaning and errands. The life of a working woman is not all it’s cracked up to be, friends.

I was in the midst of writing another installment of Indigo Wren, but I kept getting writer’s block, so I decided to throw in the towel for now.

I haven’t taken any vacation time this summer (not long weekends, not a trip to the beach, neinte, nada, NOTHING!), and therefore I am more excited than any person my age should be to have two days off of work mid-week so I can go to a Korn/Alice in Chains concert in Jones Beach… WTF. That’s what my vacation is this year… a rock concert. SAD.

Is that sad?! I think it might be, but I don’t care. The only other thing I have lined up to look forward to is a week in Maine – the last week of August. I cannot wait to spend a week on the coast, sea kayaking, biking, and drinking cocktails and eating seafood. Based on how fast the rest of this year, and especially this summer, has flown by so far, I know it will be here in the blink of an eye. Even more thrilling than being “on vacation” though, is honestly just being off of work for a whole week. Hell, I’d even take a stay-cation at this point, just to spend time away from work and out of the office. Brutal. Also, getting out of this putrid, summer-stench, dirty, ugly city will also be amazing. The entire city currently smells like expired yogurt, dehydrated, homeless person piss, dog diarrhea and rotting fruit. Fucking foul. I almost threw up one day walking up the subway stairs because I was mildly hungover and a dog (or human… who knows in this neighborhood) had diarrhe-ed ALL OVER the subway stairs.

Sorry… I know that’s gross, but alas, that’s the reality of life in this shitty city. I am SO looking forward to sleeping-in this weekend. I never thought I’d consider sleeping until 8:30am “sleeping in.” LOL. Who have I become?! Sometimes I don’t know or like this person. Then again, sometimes I DO like this person, because at least she is less prone to blacking out and losing her debit card or starting fights.

Sloppy presentation, delicious food… I made lentil “meatballs” Swedish style!

58640076850__7D34DB42-8C51-4B26-9B15-5A1AAEBE923D — Lentil Swedish “meat” balls

So, every time I made my lentil balls, I usually make them in tomato sauce, like I would traditional, Italian meatballs. I had a brilliant idea a few nights ago, to switch it up and prepare them like Swedish meatballs. I went out and bought all of the accoutrements of a typical Scandinavian meal – potatoes, beets, dill, creme fraiche, etc.. When I got home, I had to run the dishwasher because literally every piece of silverware was dirty and every single plate too. I never realized how fucking long the dishwasher takes to do it’s thing! I boiled the lentils, and then thought I could do more prep work and peel the beets, etc., until I realized even my veggie peeler and my cutting board were in the dishwasher. I tried to wait it out, but I was starving to death, especially after a glass of wine, and ended up ordering Thai food. I’ve realized I don’t like Thai food as much as I used to…. the red curry was too coconut milk-y and made me feel hella sick.

I also made some crab cakes this week, which are always a hit in this house, since my boyfriend, myself, and the cats love crab meat. Anything for my cats….

C0FF1E1A-EED5-4F22-8407-9EF5F74D8147 — (^^^ Alexa kept playing emo songs when I was cooking). The secret to moist and delectable crab cakes, is adding a couple of tablespoons of mayo to the mix.

The real showstopper this week though, or technically last weekend now, was the sweet corn risotto and sea scallop situation I made:

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I made the risotto first (you can modify this recipe by using chicken stock in place of seafood stock, and obviously subbing in sweet corn kernels in place of the shrimp). Yeah… I’m too damn tired to write out a recipe tonight.

I walked 3 miles to Whole Foods and back again in the 93 degree heat to get sea scallops. Despite the fact that there are a couple of closer fish stores, Whole Foods still has the best seafood in the area. I pan seared the scallops in butter (recipe for scallops can be found HERE).

There was a ton of risotto left-over since the scallops were the main feature of this meal. I love to cook enough food that I have leftovers for a couple of days…. even though cooking brings me a lot of joy and it’s something I enjoy doing every day, it’s comforting to know there is prepared food in the fridge in case I get stuck working late.

What else have I been up to lately? Not much…. klutz-ing around as usual. I decided to do a fake tan (St. Tropez), as I was sick of seeing how lovely everyone else looked all bronzed and golden and sunkissed. Needless to say, the same thing that happens every time I fake tan happened again – I looked like I was radioactive and/or sprayed with agent orange. I don’t know why I always convince myself that maybe ‘this time will be different than the last’ when I decide I don’t want to be pale anymore.

Agent orange color – bruises from dancing on tiled flooring.

58561958884__36921EC5-2BC7-4FDB-9EC4-382C76AD6365 — Allergic reaction to some mosquito bites I got at Knockdown Center basement…. looks like cigarette burns

IMG_0949 (1) — And finally, back to my natural skin color, after the tan wore off… but the two week old bruises still persist.

I live such a charmed life.

Tuna and me, sporting devil horns… just two peas in a pod!

B87E4F98-4AA3-4D21-ACBB-DA24AB3F65EA — When your kitten has been watching Fox News again

Indigo Took a Baggie in Ibiza

Recap: Indigo was picked up by Colombian drug traffickers after he abandoned the cruise ship and stole a life boat. He had a choice between being fed to the sharks, or serving as a drug mule. Of course, he chose the later, seeing as how it meant free drugs and a free ride to Ibiza. He landed in Ibiza and waltzed past harbor security with a suitcase full of blow, looking like Naomi Campbell strutting into a diamond mine…

As soon as Indigo had made the transaction (aka drug deal) and had received his cold, hard-earned payout (and, of course, after powdering his nose in the men’s room), he thought of the most expensive, posh hotel he could think of in Ibiza. Indigo had one of the waitresses at the cafe call him a car, and made his way to the Sir Joan Hotel, a five-star luxury hotel, where he booked a master suite for the next four nights and paid in full, using cold, hard, drug-cash. He’d never been in such a luxurious establishment before… he felt so posh it was almost like he was in a dream…he felt like Posh Spice, actually. He just needed some platforms and a bob.

After checking into his hotel room, he proceeded to call room service and order (and subsequently guzzle-down) a bottle of the finest champagne. He then took a 15 minute power nap, and when he woke up, he snorted a couple of lines in order to wake up more fully. He couldn’t possibly go out in Ibiza wearing the Bermuda shorts he’d borrowed from Fernando, and so he had the concierge order another car to take him shopping. If you’re wondering where his newfound wealth came from, let’s just say he got compensated very well for the drug transaction, darling! But don’t ask how much he made… that’s just uncouth. Let’s just say it’s enough to afford a luxury hotel suite for four nights, and have a little left over spending money for shopping and ecstasy.

Indigo bought some white linen tunics with embroidered yokes, and the tiniest denim cut-offs he could find…. his legs did look great after all, from days of not eating. He also bought some leather, Italian-crafted booties, Gucci sunglasses and some leather jewelry to adorn his tiny, emaciated wrists. He felt like a million dollars once he was fully dressed, and he was ready to have some fucking fun. Indigo gave himself a once-over in the mirror of his hotel room, snorted a few more lines for good measure, and then headed downstairs to the hotel’s bar/lounge area where he proceeded to park himself in front of the bar, making eyes at any man, woman, or child he thought might buy him a cocktail.

No one was taking the bait, or the queer bait for that matter, and so he bought himself a glass of champagne, and asked the bartender for a pickle back after he finished the champagne in three gulps. The bartender didn’t know what a pickle back was, and so Indigo had to explain it’s when you do a shot of whisky and wash it down with a shot of pickle juice to get rid of the aftertaste. The bartender had to send the bar back to the kitchen to ask the chef for pickle juice since no one had ever requested such a drink before in this establishment. Indigo was getting bored of the hotel bar – it was mostly rich older couples, a handful of younger couples on their honeymoon, and a few families eating dinner at the tables near the windows…. AKA BORING AS FUCK. Since he had no phone, he couldn’t even get on Grindr. Indigo decided now was a good time to bounce, and so he asked for his check. When the bartender turned his back to print it, Inidigo sprinted right out of there as fast as he could and out of the hotel’s main doors into the night. He was far too beautiful to be spending money on his own drinks. Fuck it.

Indigo hailed a cab and went to Amnesia. There was a line of botoxed posers and anorexic model-wannabes waiting to get in outside, but Indigo didn’t do lines (apart from the white stuff), and so he sashayed straight to the doorman to work his magic charm. Indigo looked pretty fucking hot in his daisy dukes and tunic, and he slipped the doorman a lil’ baggie of blow when he shook his hand. The doorman let Indigo right in, no questions asked. He turned around to acknowledge the losers still waiting in line, and strutted his tiny ass through the entrance.

Once inside the club, he scoped out the scene… when who should he spot but Lily Von Fustenburg! His arch nemesis – also the one woman Indigo went straight for. He had loved this woman for the past 10 years that he knew her, but she had rejected him in the most public of ways after a year of casual sex. Lily was a trust fund baby who had been cut off of her family fortune due to her rampant drug use, multiple stints in rehab, terrible public behavior that had been documented repeatedly by Page Six, and multiple arrests (including, but not limited to, shoplifting, drug possession, DUIs… you name it). Lily was rolling ballz and also spotted Indigo. She made a wobbly beeline through the crowd to him, her eyes flitting back into their sockets, and a permanent smile plastered across her face. God, she was hot. She was bleach blonde and about 90 lbs., wearing black denim cut-offs, platform boots, and a sheer crop top. She was the most perfect woman Indigo had ever had the pleasure of meeting – and right now, she was higher than a fucking kite.

Lily screamed above the thumping bass, “Oh FUCK ME RUNNING! You dirt-bag! A) What the fuck are you doing HERE, and B) Give me all the drugs!” Indigo was swept off of his feet, yet again. His knees went week and his stomach got butterflies as his heart raced and his palms began to sweat. How could one woman be so perfect? He emptied his pockets and handed over two vials of blow to Lily’s waiting hands. He would walk across hot coals for this woman…fuck, he would go sober for this woman. He would hold down a 9-5 job if it meant he could spend the rest of his life with this woman!

The last time Indigo had seen Lily, they’d had a marvelous night on the town, ending in the bathroom stall at Tao. Lily was going down on Indigo, when the stall door flew open. “Holy shit! Indigo?!” A scrawny Guatemalan boy stood in the door way, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Raymundo!!!! I thought you were working tonight!” Indigo exclaimed. Lily stopped what she was doing and recoiled. This was the last fucking straw. She wasn’t about to be Indigo’s fag hag. “You’re fucking the Guatemalan busser from Delicatessen? Dude, I know he gives you the best blow, and possibly blow jobs, but I don’t want to be your fag hag. I’m fucking done! This is it.” Lily got off her bony knees and marched out. Indigo stood there with his 9-inch rod fully exposed, his size 0 leather pants around his ankles (side note: Indigo is very well-endowed and known to be a very generous lay… in case you’re wondering and in the market). Indigo was in shock. His heart shattered into a million pieces. Meanwhile, Raymundo had gotten down on his knees and proceeded to gargle Indigo’s member. Indigo disassociated.

Indigo had went home with Raymundo that night after several more lychee martinis. He blacked out, HARD, and may or may have not been sexually assaulted. He woke up the next day in Raymundo’s top bunk bed, in a 6-story East Village walk-up with no AC, sweating like a whore in church, coming down from the blow, hungover from the martinis, and in the midst of a serious panic attack, wondering where he went wrong and wishing last night had never happened. He called Lily later that day, but she had blocked him on her phone and all social media. He sent an apologetic email, professing his love for her, and letting her know Raymundo meant nothing to him – he was only in it for the coke. Lily never answered his email. This was two years ago… they hadn’t spoken or seen each other since. Until this night…

Indigo embraced Lily in a warm bear-hug and kissed her forehead tenderly. She smelled of expensive perfume (Acqua di Parma, Oud), cocaine, and stale cigarette smoke. “Lily, do you have any more pills? I need to catch up to you and your friend there.” Lily was swaying, arm-in-arm with a dapper looking gentleman who must have been about 60, with salt-and-pepper hair, and a Patek Philippe watch – he was also rolling ballz. This time, it was Lily’s turn to empty her pockets and hand over the drugs. She gave Indigo a large pressed pill, which he swallowed whole and washed down with a sip of her margarita.

Indigo blacked out momentarily and the next thing he knew, they were all naked in a hot tub – on a yacht. The yacht belonged to the older gentleman who was with Lily – a Spanish real estate tycoon named Rodrigo Espinoza IV. They were all still rolling ballz when Rodrigo hopped out of the hot tub and said he was going to the bar to get them all drinks. Indigo had to use the bathroom, and so he hopped out of the hot tub as well and followed Rodrigo inside. The bathroom was adjacent to the bar, and when Indigo came out of the bathroom, he saw Rodrigo still standing at the bar. He watched silently as Rodrigo dropped something into one of the drink glasses.

Sure, he and Lily weren’t as close as they once were, but he certainly couldn’t sit around and watch the love of his life get roofied by this douche bag. He quickly hatched a plan. Indigo stepped out of the bathroom doorway. “Hey, Rodrigo! How those drinks coming?” Rodrigo handed Indigo a drink, and said “here, help me carry these.” Indigo made sure to keep his eye on the drink that had been roofied, as fucked up as he was, he wasn’t fucking around.

When they got back to the hot tub and into the water again, Rodrigo handed Lily the drink that was in his left hand. Lily took one sip and set it in the corner drink-holder. Indigo waited until the moment was right, and quickly swapped his drink with Lily’s. He downed the roofied drink as fast as he could…. he had to take one for the team tonight. He didn’t mind, he’d been roofied twice before – once by some bear at a gay bar, and another time, voluntarily by himself, just for fun. After 30 minutes had passed, Indigo started to feel very, very, EXTREMELY relaxed. More relaxed than he’d felt rolling balls.

He closed his eyes and sank deeper into the water. His muscles relaxed, his brain stopped thinking coherent thoughts. Suddenly, Lily was slapping his cheek, “Indigo, INDIGO, What the Fuck?! Wake up dude!” Indigo just barely opened his eyes and gave a crooked, half-smile, “I saved you bitch,” he slurred. He couldn’t wake up, even though he tried… and he felt FAN- fucking-tastic!!! He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed and stress-free. Rodrigo chuckled nervously at the sight of Indigo, who was at this point, clearly under the influence of the GHB he intended to drug Lily with. “Wow, your friend is a regular Lindsay Lohan, huh? A real piece of work!” Rodrigo said, before excusing himself to the bathroom. Now, Lily was super embarrassed – Indigo was about to blow her chance and therefore also blow her future with this billionaire/next meal-ticket.

Once Rodrigo had disappeared inside, Lily slapped Indigo hard across the face: “WAKE THE FUCK UP!” Nothing could be done now though… Indigo was fucking dead (hypothetically speaking of course). Lily was beyond frustrated, but also slightly worried for him. After all, they’d taken the same pills and the same amount of drugs, or so she thought… unless of course he was holding out on her, and had a secret stash, and had taken more drugs without her (in which case, she decided she would fucking kill him – “sharing is caring” – am I right???). When Rodrigo returned to the hot tub, Lily tried to save the situation as best she could, and informed him that Indigo wasn’t ‘feeling well,’ and asked him to help her get Indigo into a cabin for bed. Together, they hoisted Indigo’s emaciated, tanned, glorious frame out of the water and carried him into a bedroom. Lily decided it was best that she spend the night in Indigo’s cabin, to keep an eye on him….even though she wanted to raw-dog Rodrigo and risk getting prego. She knew in her heart that this was the end of any future she might have had with Rodrigo, since he wasn’t getting laid and therefore would give her the cold shoulder tomorrow, but her friend was more important.

Indigo woke up the next afternoon around 3pm, groggy as fuck. He didn’t remember anything apart from seeing Rodrigo spike Lily’s drink and making the executive decision to drink it before she could. Lily was already up and dressed when Indigo walked out of his cabin onto the deck. Hell truly hath no fury like a woman’s scorn – Lily looked furious, and grabbed him by the arm as soon as she saw him: “We need to talk” she said, as she hauled him down the stairs into another cabin. “You FUCKING blew my chances with Rodrigo! I was going to get pregnant last night and become a lady-who-lunches, and never worry about how I’d afford drugs, EVER AGAIN!!! AND NOW THAT DREAM IS DEAD!!! YOU FUCKING BLEW IT! I was supposed to be the one doing the blowing! WTF happened to you?!”

“Lily – I SAVED YOU! I watched that geriatric, FUGLY, Spaniard douche-HOLE spike the drink he gave to YOU with GHB – so I switched our drinks so you didn’t get assaulted.”

“Well what if I WANTED to be drugged? Did you ever think of that?!” Lily screamed.

“You know what?! FUCK YOU. I’m sorry I tried to help you – clearly you don’t want to be helped. That’s why you’re a fucking 90 lb coke whore who got cut off her inheritance and now spends her days peddling coochie on yachts in return for fancy meals that you THROW UP and drugs. Don’t talk to me anymore… I’m done with you. I should have been done with you a long time ago.” Indigo stormed off into his cabin. It was only another 18 hours before they were set to arrive in Mykonos. He could do this. He just needed some more drugs and booze.

Indigo stormed off to the bathroom. He was out of drugs, having given his coke to Lily the previous night. He HAD to find something… anything, or he wasn’t making to Mykonos in one piece. He knew on a yacht this grandiose, some dumb yacht whore must have stashed something SOMEWHERE. He frantically searched the bathroom and found a baggie of four xanax in the medicine cabinet. BINGO! It was gonna be smooth sailing from here on out. Indigo put the pills in his pocket, and went to the bar where he proceeded to order a Johnny Walker Black Label, neat. He threw all four pills in his mouth, took a big swig of his drink and that was that my friend!

Indigo started to feel pretty fucking good. He went back to his cabin in a state of total relaxation and bliss. He didn’t a fuck about anything – life was beautiful and nothing mattered. He stripped naked, and got down on the plush carpet of the cabin floor. Ahhh… it felt so good against his naked thighs and ballsack. This was bliss. He fell fast asleep, face-down on the carpet and slept in dreamless state for the next 18 hours.

Rat Meatloaf and Gross Negligence

It’s been over a week since I last wrote… I am living in a state of perpetual exhaustion. I average about 5 hours of sleep a night, and I don’t even have anything to show for my lack of sleep – that’s the saddest part. You’d think I was up writing a novel or like, a cook book or something. Or that I was painting the next greatest masterpiece. No. Honestly, I don’t even know how I end up staying up as late as I do every night (usually until 12:30 – 1 a.m.). I’m not doing anything fun or worth while. I am actually up that late scooping cat litter, brushing cats, and/or cooking dinner for a boyfriend I see about 20 minutes of each day, and yeah… that’s about it…. by the time all my chores are done, it’s time for bed.

I don’t know where the time goes, but clearly it hasn’t been spent writing or finding a better job. I haven’t even cooked anything note worthy lately. I’ve been too fucking tired to cook and too busy tending to cats and cleaning the house, since it now gets dirty even faster (double the cat hair, double the spilled litter and food messes, etc.).

Can someone please come brush my teeth and wash my face for me? It’s 9:20 p.m. on a Friday and I’m too tired to even get off the couch and get ready for bed. That’s how tired I am. I can’t even imagine having an actual human kid to take care of at this point in my life. I’d literally fucking die, and if I didn’t die from sleep deprivation, I would surely die from a psychotic break down as a direct result of stress and sleep deprivation.

Can someone also fix my mangled feet? I think they need totally replaced at this point, given that they’re covered in popped blisters from my ill-fitting H&M sneakers and beyond the repairs a basic pedicure would offer.

Anyhow. Another day, another dollar -am I right?

I am really proud of myself because I didn’t order delivery even once this week. Not that I order in often – usually once a week and only when I’m drained. But I’m impressed I didn’t order at all – since at some point in the week, I usually cave and use Seamless to order Chinese or Mexican food. I cooked a lot of random shit this week though, that is for sure. One of the many random things I cooked was this rat meatloaf:

Rat (“mouse”) meatloaf… don’t ask. I couldn’t stop laughing as I prepared it, waiting to present it to my boyfriend like it was a goddamn lobster with a side of filet mignon

I made this really delicious dish that I absolutely LOVED, and my boyfriend hated (he hates small pastas for some strange reason (orzo, italini, orrechiette)… I, on the other hand, LOVE small pastas). Anyhow, I found this sick recipe for “Orzotto” (orzo cooked like risotto) on one of my favorite food sites, “Taste Cooking.” It was really easy to make (much less time than cooking actual risotto with rice), and warranted a trip to my favorite cheese shop.

58026982540__749AAC68-AC2E-4FD5-8441-483F151C1063 — This was heaven. I liked it better than actual risotto, because the orzo is lighter and fluffier. I cooked the orzo in chicken stock, and used Gorgonzola dolce to finish it.

It was a beautiful Spring night in NYC, so I brought Mr. Peeper for a walk… Not sure the hipster trash dudes working in the Cheese shop appreciated, but whatever. It’s my life.

Anyhow, Campbell (aka “Lorimer”) Cheese shop is my absolute favorite. It’s basically what Bedford Cheese Shop was before they sold their soul to the devil and moved up the street into a gargantuan retail space with white everything and waitstaff that is unfriendly and probably doesn’t even eat cheese.

I digress…

Campbell (Lorimer) Cheese shop is the best – they always have Gorgonzola dolce and a variety of truffle cheeses, which means I leave happy every time. The staff is friendly, and you can find all manner of jams, olives, specialty sausages, etc..

The mortadella wasn’t the same as usual… it had no peppercorns or pistachios in it… they totally downgraded and I’m not sure what’s up with that. I did pick up these awesome anchovies, which I used in the pasta dish I just made. I also picked up the creamy, blue cheese I used to make my Orzotto.

I’m too fucking lazy to write out any recipes tonight. But I made this pasta using the anchovies pictured above, and San Marzano tomatoes from a can:

The anchovies add this delightful umami flavor …. so good

Anyhow. It’s Memorial Day Weekend and I can’t fucking wait to be home (my parents house upstate). I am so over this shit hole, rat-infested, fake fuck infested city.

Happy Memorial Day weekend everyone. I hope the cats let me sleep in past 7:30 a.m. tomorrow. I look haggard.

Hangry and Sleep Deprived

What a day… I can’t even begin to get into it, or I’ll never stop. Let’s just say – I’m over it…. over everything … on every possible level you can imagine.

I’m currently listing to Dolly Parton, which is another level of disgusting in itself, considering that I hate country music and recently learned that Dolly doesn’t even call or consider herself a feminist. I won’t go into that either. I’m not sure why some women think the label ‘feminist’ is a bad thing, especially in the year 2019. It simply means a person (man, woman, etc.) who wants equal rights for both men and women (and everyone in between). I guess the people who consider it a dirty term have never taken a women’s studies class in their life, and therefore associate the label with a “feminazi,” or a man-hating, non-armpit-shaving, bra-burning, lesbian straight out of 1968 (**not that that would be a bad thing to be, even if you were that person I just described…). I’m just saying – calling yourself a feminist doesn’t mean you hate men or that you shun makeup and heels in favor of cargo shorts and trips to Home Depot. It means you want equal pay, rights, and equal opportunities for all – regardless of sex, gender, or sexual orientation. I guess in Dolly’s case, even though she has a large gay fan-base, she also has to cater to her equally-as-large, republican, pro-Trump fan base too… sad.

Dolly – you really disappointed me on top of everything else that disappointed me today…

201606-omag-dolly-parton-miss-mona-450x450

I had the shittiest dinner after the shittiest day – it was only fitting. I was so pissed off by the time I arrived home at 9pm, I had no appetite. I kind of love when that happens, but naturally I had to go and ruin it by drinking a glass of wine and it spurred my appetite into action. If I never drank alcohol, I’m pretty sure I would never be hungry. But, given my lifestyle, quitting wine isn’t really an option, unless I can take up MMA fighting or get a prescription for Klonopin…

881817FC-4EAA-4EEE-B3A1-D3B3583AD0D8 — If the outside matched the inside – this would be my attitude all day everyday… instead I’m relegated to Hillary Clinton-esque slacks and button ups and playing nice.

When I finally got home, ravaged and miserable, I fed my poor little catty, who should have even three hours prior to my arrival time, and then took a bath with a generous glass of Malbec. I proceeded to electrocute my face with the NuFace, since I have been so exhausted these past few mornings that I’ve neglected to do so. When I came out of the bath, I could smell my neighbor’s cooking – and tonight it smelled like fried artichoke hearts and stuffed mushroom poppers. Suddenly, I was salivating. Instead of eating pasta at 11pm, I decided to be healthy and make a salad to satiate my unrelenting hunger:

I guess everything is sad today – because this is one of the saddest salads I’ve ever tried to make into a meal. No cheese, nuts, olives, avocados, or any sort of protein or healthy fat. The salad is mostly purple cabbage. At least the dressing is homemade and delicious – that’s the only thing this salad has going for it. Kind of like the only thing I have going for me is my cute cat.

It doesn’t really help that I also only average about 6 hours of sleep a night or less. The only time it seems like I get enough sleep is on the weekends (and only sometimes), when I can go to bed at 10pm and sleep until 9am. This happens maybe once a month now, since even weekends seem to be full of obligations and plans. I feel like I’m so haggard when I don’t sleep – I seriously feel I have aged about 6 years in the past 2.5 years given my lack of sleep.

Anyhow, enough about me and my anger and sleep deprivation. Yesterday, I made a delightful pasta with a creamy sauce made of pureed zucchini. I’m too fucking tired to write the recipe, but I’ll update tomorrow if I don’t work another 12 hour day…. JK, I’ll write it now… what’s another 20 minutes off my sleep time?

The finished product: Penne with pureed zucchini sauce and cherry tomatoes

INGREDIENTS:

Box of penne, rigatoni, or fussili
4 Tbs. Olive Oil
2 Tbs. butter
1/2 cup finely grated Parmesan cheese (plus more to sprinkle on top)
1/2 chicken stock
1/4 cup heavy cream
4 small, green zucchinis, chopped up into small chunks
1/2 medium yellow onion, finely minced
6 cloves of garlic, finely minced
1 small carton of cherry or grape tomatoes, cut into halves
salt and pepper to taste
1 tsp. dried basil
1 tsp. dried oregano
1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper
Fresh basil to garnish

DIRECTIONS:

In a large saucepan, heat the olive oil (2 Tbs.) and butter over low heat
Add in the minced onion and cook for 5 minutes over low heat, until the onions are translucent and soft
Add in the minced garlic (about 4 cloves worth) and cook for another 3 minutes (as usual, be careful not to burn the garlic!)
Add in the chopped zucchini and cook over medium heat, stirring frequently
Continue to stir and cook until the zucchini is soft and fully cooked (taste test to make sure)
Remove the zucchini from the the heat
Place a large pot of heavily salted water on high heat and bring to a boil for the pasta
While the pasta water comes to a boil, add the contents of the zucchini saucepan into a blender
Add in about 1/2 cup chicken stock
Blend over high speed until mixture is thick and saucy – there shouldn’t be any large chunks

After adding the cooked zucchini, onion and garlic mixture to the blender, add 1/2 cup chicken stock blend on high until sauce is thick and blended fully

Return the mixture to the saucepan and turn to low heat
Add the pasta into the pot of boiling water and cook according to time on box
Add in the cream, salt, pepper, cayenne, dried basil and dried oregano as well as the Parmesan cheese and stir until all ingredients have combined into thick sauce
Add additional seasoning as necessary, depending on your tastes
Once pasta is done cooking, drain the water, and add the pasta into the sauce (or add the sauce into the pasta pot – whichever is more accommodating)
In a clean sauce pan, add in 2 Tbs. of olive oil over low heat
Add in another 2 cloves of minced garlic and cook for about 2 minutes
Add in the cherry tomatoes, season with a bit more salt and pepper and cook over low-medium heat for about 6 minutes

After adding the zucchini sauce to the cooked pasta, use a clean plan to saute the remaining cloves of garlic with some cherry or grape tomatoes in olive oil/butter

Add the tomatoes to the rest of the pasta/sauce once cooked through
Top with additional sprinkle of Parmesan cheese and fresh basil leaves

I wish I had a shot of adrenaline that would be dispensed into my arm when my alarm went off tomorrow morning. But sadly the best I could muster was setting up my coffee machine so all I have to do is hit a single button. Looks like 5 hours of sleep for me tonight…. cheers.