Tuesday, June 30, 2009

In case animals aren't your thang and you still need a reason to smile

They want to be loved by you:


Vote for your favorite look-alike HERE. ♦DiggIt!Add to del.icio.usAdd to Technorati Faves

Life's a Laugh

OK, sorry about the depressing photos I posted yesterday. Some uplifting ones to counteract the effect:

Many more HERE. Enjoy.


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Monday, June 29, 2009

What is Happening in the World?!

In case you have been feeling a bit sorry for yourself lately, here are some recent happenings around the globe to put things in perspective for all of us.


Afganistan

China


Honduras


Iran


China


These photos are from last week. Click on the images to go to the source.



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Sunday, June 28, 2009

Little Onyx Dress

Ah, what woman doesn’t love “a little black dress”? While the term usually refers to a classic silhouette, it often evokes a tired shift. Kudos to brands that are trying to reinvent the stale concept. Barron Duquette Reese understands that, just because the word “little” is part of the moniker, your outfit does not have to be a mini. Let’s face it – there are more subtle ways to indicate the slow emergence of summer than by showcasing your panties for the world to see. For instance, take a look at this beauty from SmartBargains’ all-encompassing vaults.



This “onyx” dress is just short and black enough to qualify for the label “little black dress” that piques men’s and women’s curiosity, albeit for different reasons. Instead of the lack of length, an image reminiscent of a seashell decorates the garment to make us think of the warm weather. And, at 69% off, how can you pass it up?


Go on, join the party. While you’re there, don’t forget to pay with PayPal for an extra 20% off. With saving like these, you might just have enough cash left over for those silver shoes to go with the outfit.

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Saturday, June 27, 2009

Easy Breezy Beautiful

- Sweet potato, cheese and bean quesadillas
(self-explanatory, but the cheese has to be sharp and to balance the sweetness of the potatoes)
- Chicken meatballs
(egg white, 1lb ground chicken, some Worcestershire sauce, spices, salt, ketchup, minced garlic and onion)
- Sauted veggies with ginger marinade
(no, I don't make the marinade -- Stop&Shop, baby!)





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Friday, June 26, 2009

Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine...

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How is nude yoga relaxing?!

You probably already know that artists think differently from the rest of us. While you're wondering how you're going to pay your bills, lose weight, punish your children or get an extra two minutes of sleep in the morning (go to bed earlier, duh!), they're pondering how they can express themselves and find their inner peace. So, what happens next is -- they start devising ways they could get in touch with their homeostasis. Some do yoga, some do yoga in the nude... No, not really -- mostly, they just paint and glue little figurines to pieces of colorful paper. You don't believe me? I knew you were going to say that. Sigh. I have proof.

Keri Smith is an illustrator and one creative gal. I stumbled on her list of 100 random things to do, and am totally in awe of this woman's originality. For instance, #32 is the idea to list all of the smells in your neighborhood. Since I live in an area with a lot of skunks and BBQ enthusiasts, the odors collide into an unpleasant medley I don't think you would like to hear more about. And, since I don't really know 100 uses for a tincan (I guess I could think up some, but then again, I could also use that time to get those extra sleep minutes), I thought I'd create a character based on someone I know instead (#42).

So, I went to this nifty site, pretended that it's nothing like KidZui (I'm an adult, remember?) and spent a couple of minutes playing with different versions of South-Park Ira. Since the site is malfunctioning, I couldn't save my masterpiece to show you, but She came out sooo cool. Not square at all. Go, check it out. The possibilities are endless. Your imagination is limited only by the number of hairstyles and hat designs. One question -- where are the noses?! Did the designers know about my neighborhood smells? (Disclaimer: I've never seen South Park. Doesn't anyone in the movie have a nose?!)


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Thursday, June 25, 2009

In memoriam

Michael Jackson has always symbolized America to me. He was the first US singer I knew about, listened and danced to. I can't believe he is no longer alive. I'm too sad to write anything else. Here is my favorite song of his:
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Brother, can you spare a dime?

I understand that we are living in a recession, but shouldn’t there be a limit to how low a person can stoop to save a couple of bucks?! This quote is from a NYT article on restaurants’ marketing tactics; it refers to customers who prefer to visit only when they have discount coupons: “‘These guys are coming in just for that deal, and they’re not buying the soda, they’re stiffing the waiter on the tip, they’re drinking water and they’re leaving,’ he said.”

I’m all for choosing water in favor of sugary soda or sparkling l’eau de prétention, but stiffing the waiter?! If you can’t afford to dine out, then cook your grub at home, but don’t make someone else pay for your pleasure. What’s your take on this? Leave a tip via a comment.

Here’s my tip for you. Since many people have lost their “real” jobs, they’re making ends meet as waiters. You never know – there might be a writer lurking behind that apron. Here’s a prime example:

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Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Free Cocktails and Appetizers


So, this post is the reason you read this blog. Today, you finally get your money’s worth. (I wish…) That’s right, brother (or sister – I don’t discriminate, man). I’m gonna let you in on a little secret – just between us, girls. You ready? OK, pay attention now. What would you do if you knew where to buy Van Gogh’s art (or Mary Cassat’s – whoever rocks your boat) for a very good price? You’d buy the damn art, that’s what you’d do.

OK, now that we’ve established that you’re a smart investor, let’s play a little game. Let’s pretend that it’s 1888. You meet a weirdo in a café. He’s ill at ease, keeps sipping his water and rubbing his rumbling stomach. There are two possible scenarios.

Scenario one. You feel sorry for the poor loser and buy him a croque-monsieur. The bastard is so thankful for the kind gesture, he talks your ear off with tales of the underground art scene. You want to go home and crash, but again feel pity and accept his invitation to check out his paintings. Once you see his work, though, you realize he ain’t half bad and offer to buy some of his stuff, thus feeding him for a week or so. You part with a crumpled bill as he parts with a depiction of a vineyard. You choose it because it is the most colorful piece, one that reminds you of … well, knocking one back, etc.

Scenario two. You feel sorry for the sad loser and pat him on the shoulder as you walk past him to leave the café and go home to your soft bed. Two years later, Anna Boch becomes the first person to recognize Van Gogh’s genius by buying The Red Vineyard for 400 francs. The dude dies, his art is widely praised, and you feel stupid. Yada, yada, yada. Well, don’t be a dolt. Here’s what you do.

Go to your Yahoo! (or Google, if you've evolved) calendar. Then, create an appointment for 5 p.m. on August 20th for your date with Van Gogh in Gallery Z. Only, in this third scenario, Van Gogh is actually Mary Cassat, and Mary Cassat is actually a Polish artist named Ewa Romaszewicz. (Full disclosure – Ewa’s a close friend and her art kicks ass). Anyhow, her show ‘Real & Imagined Landscapes’ runs between August 4th and August 29th, in case you’ll be stuck in jail and unable to make it on the 20th, the date of the reception. The ad for the evening says that she uses “soft lighting and muted tones to represent emotional scenes in nature”. I say, just get your ass in there and prepare for a kick. You don’t want to miss your chance now, do you? Oh, and I’ll be there – so that’s another great reason to attend. Or not.





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Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Tongue-tied Tuesday


Update: Apparently, I'm not the only perverse blogger out there.
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Rainy Days are Here Again ... And Again

I apologize ahead of time to the readers who still have all their hair, but this post is for those of you with troublemakers in da house. The summer is upon us and someone needs to entertain the rascals. And, since it’s been raining nonstop – at least in my neck of the woods – you better be prepared! Yes, TV helps, but who wants their kids to tattle on you to other parents at the playground? Just imagine, “My mom lets me watch TV all day while she snacks on bon bons and fans herself”. Not the impression you want to make – catch my drift? (Yes, moms can be quite judgmental, believe it or not. Quel horreur!) But, there are only so many times you can paint flowers, build LEGO houses, mold play dough monsters and dance to Hanna Montana (@#%^&). The day is long, know what I’m sayin’ here?

That’s when KidZui comes to the rescue. I’m not quite sure what it is, but I think it’s some kind of a game system you download on the Internet (for free!) when you become desperate for two minutes of thinkus uninterruptus. (If you lock yourself in the bathroom, sit on the toilet lid and put your hands over your ears, they will still knock until you open the door). So, unless you can afford that great nanny who is a cook and a cleaner and a laundress rolled into one, you need KidZui. (Wii does not work as well because they’ll still bug you, asking for help.) KidZui is scoundrel-friendly (did Steve Jobs design it?). All you have to do is create an account for your little devils, and set them free to roam behind the monitor. (Cue the grandma who says, “When I was little, kids ran around outside, not sat indoors all day”. Shut up, grandma – you didn’t grow up in rain country. Oh, summer, where art thou?)

Your kid will have a blast creating an avatar, dressing it up and introducing himself to friends (other similar-looking avatars (the free options are somewhat limited with regards to design and individuality, but who cares? It’s what’s inside that counts, right?) The games are fun yet educational (the kids don’t realize this, so you’re all set.) You’ll be able not only to sort the darks and the lights, but also to sprinkle some cheese on that lasagna. Go on, download the game. Your secret’s safe with me.

Image representing KidZui as depicted in Crunc...

Image via CrunchBase

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Monday, June 22, 2009

A Rambling Catty Post

I have an observation which may anger some of you. If it does, deal with it – no one, including me (gasp), is perfect (even Obama has large ears). Recently, I noticed that a myriad of people around the globe are completely bonkers over cats. I mean totally obsessed with cats. As someone who has never owned a pet (or is that politically incorrect?) -- sorry, let me try again. As someone who has never shared a house with a pet (I assume that caterpillars and random bugs living in jars on our kitchen windowsill don’t count), I can’t participate in the glee that emanates from the mouths of cute-cat photo-chainmail recipients. Cats with bows, cats with dogs, cats in beds, cats in hats. As much as I enjoy Seuss, I just shrug my shoulders and roll my eyes in an obnoxious fashion. It’s just a cat – get over it!

That’s why I was not at all surprised when my mother handed us some Trader Joe’s cookies marketed to cat people. Guess what they’re called? You don’t have to – I’ll tell you. Chocolatey [sic] Cats Cookies for People. Never mind that the package depicts a fat cat that looks a lot more like a tiger – it also reads in large letters, LOW FAT. So, as soon as I saw those magic words (OPP, you know me) I had to steal some from the kids (other people’s property no more!). At only 1.5 grams of fat per 15 cookies (9 grams of sugar), they’re way more preferable to Oreos – at least to me (I have never been able to get into the whole sugary white filling thing). So, these cookies are very similar to Oreos – sans the sticky insides. They're light, crispy and ... chocolaty. In fact, I like them so much, I think I’m becoming a cat person … only until TJ comes up with dulce de leche dog snacks.

If you spent your childhood in the US (or if you are a European who’s lost his taste buds), please tell me this – do you like Oreos because they taste good or do you just like the commercials? (My favorite one is the father-son kitchen-table conversation. There’s nothing like Oreos for bonding!) Or maybe it’s the process that appeals to you – the twisting motion, the licking... Gosh, it's so hard to figure out what the right way to eat an Oreo is... So, do tell me – what is so great about Oreo cookies?! Just have some Cats Cookies for People, people!



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Friday, June 19, 2009

V is for victory

I fixed the feed. Ya'll can subscribe now. There is a techie in me after all. Somewhere deep inside.
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Thursday, June 18, 2009

First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes X with a baby carriage. Then what?

OK, enough of this silliness with hotpants and contests. Let's talk about something more serious. Stumbled on a really great piece on love (what else matters, really?). Since I like to eat the ice cream first, here is the conclusion:

"But what about longing? Desire? The very human craving for delirious romance? Even when we know better, even when we've learned the hard way that no other person can possibly make us whole and we've entered into a conscious relationship, where does the longing go?

'Longing is a wonderful, very vital energy,' says Florence Falk. 'It's not the longing that's the problem, it's what you do with it.' As we begin to reclaim our selves and find our core strength, she says, not only is it possible to develop a real, loving relationship, but the longing can be redirected to something greater than ourselves, something transcendent.

And, says Stephen Levine: 'If another person is the most important thing in your life, then you're in trouble and they're in trouble because they become responsible for your suffering. But if consciousness is the most important thing in our lives and relationship is a means toward that end... Ah! then we are approaching paradise. We are approaching the possibility of actually becoming a human being before we die.' And maybe that is the future of love."

More here. Talk amongst yourselves. Oh, and feel free to leave your reactions in the comments. ♦DiggIt!Add to del.icio.usAdd to Technorati Faves

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

I have a date with Bruno on July 10th

Note to self: wear something sparkly to the theater; consider a sombrero for headgear.

Photo credit
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Wake up your dormant creativity

Missed the last contest? Not to worry. A bunch of people emailed me that they liked the idea and want more of these. You got it.

This time, we're going to work with images, though -- too many of you sent me your responses asking not to share them. So, here are the details of the next (less personal) contest.

Take a look at the previous post. Your new assignment is to create an original image with a vinyl record. Email these to me, putting "vinyl contest" in the subject line. If I get enough of these, I will publish them on the blog and award small prizes to the best ones. You have until June 30th to get these in.


What are you waiting for? Get to it!
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A Sure Way to Become a Star

OK, I admit that this idea is not the most ingenious one, but it's so much fun! Here's what you do:

- Take your favorite vinyl record (providing you still own those -- I sold almost all of mine on a yardsale). Keep in mind that the record cover must contain the singer's photo.

- Then, pose with the record in a way that fills in the parts missing from the shot. Go ahead, let your imagination flow.

Don't want to bother? Just check out this guy's collection then. Here's my favorite shot:

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Monday, June 15, 2009

Worldly Why's

A la Providence Journal’s Mark Patinkin

1. Why doesn’t the librarian at our local branch know who Nabokov is?
2. Why are unemployed people supposed to look for work if they spend all of their time trying to file the weekly claim via the most ridiculous phone system?
3. Why do my kids need umbrellas to take a bath?
4. Why does my six-year-old think that it’s cooler to wear the short-sleeved shirt over the long-sleeved one?
5. Why is the weather always nice when I score free museum tickets?
6. Why does the non-fat Greek-style yogurt taste so fatty and yummy?
7. Why does the reduced-fat cheese taste so bland and blah?
8. Why did the radishes I planted start growing and the cucumbers never sprouted?
9. Why does the ice cream truck always arrive at the playground around dinner time?
10. Why did I major in English?

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Saturday, June 13, 2009

And in the spirit of weirdness...

More kick-ass photos from another fantastic Russian photographer. Be careful, they'll forever change your perception of the Brits.



Crumpets, anyone? No? OK, here are some more photos then.


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For those who thought Thayer Street weirdos can't be beat

More here. Caution: adult content.
Once you click on the link, check out the rest of the blog. It rocks. Superb photographer.
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Friday, June 12, 2009

Update to the contest


Since there was such a measly response, I decided that everyone who entered will get a prize. So, I’m emailing all these lucky guys different songs as prizes. Here are the reasons why they deserve it:

D: answer to question #4
J: answer to question #1
N: answer to question #3
E: answer to question #2
P: answer to question #5

The moral of the story? Enter the darn contest next time, people!
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Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Wanted: answers to 5 random questions


1. What is “good”/ “bad”?
2. How do you get away from it all? (e.g., meditation, travel, Chris Rock on YouTube)?
3. What rhymes with “orange”?
4. Best midnight snack?
5. Favorite spam subject line?

Please post replies in comments. There is a prize for the best answers.

I’m judging, of course. Um… I promise to be subjective ;)
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Russians finally caught on how to advertise


Would you like some cement with that? It'll be 190 roubles. (Source)
P.S. Love the weather-appropriate boots! They go with the tennis cap.
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Sunday, June 07, 2009

Woman

Sometimes, she’s a fish. She smiles at the blinding sun and gets ready to submerge herself in the salty waves. Her swimming cap, dotted with marigolds, protects the highlights. She likes that it matches her bathing suit. No, she doesn’t dive in at once. She first stands at the edge of the water, letting the gentle foam roll over her feet. She enjoys watching the clear bubbles flirt with the pale pink of her toenails. Sauntering into the ocean, she rubs her upper arms, wishing away the goose bumps. Finally, when the water reaches the birthmark on her neck, she turns around, waves to the kids, and lunges forward, kicking up her feet and floating toward the blindness. She wishes she had worn her sunglasses. But she had forgotten them in the room where she was a snake.

That day, she was a poisonous one. She wore black stilettos and a matching pencil skirt, slit at the side. Her silk blouse was buttoned up enough to claim decency, but her perfume revealed that the eye was at fault. Her mouth, smothered in crimson, kept screaming. It screamed at the people around the long lacquered desk who were drinking coffee, responding and writing in notebooks; at the sleeping man who was breathing loudly into her neck; at the whimpering poodle who missed her; at the waving neighbor who overwatered her garden, and at the reflection in the mirror. The woman in the mirror didn’t deserve any respect because she was a rabbit.

Not even a rabbit – a cowardly bunny. She raced to the café, putting lipstick on at the stoplights, and spraying perfume onto her wrists. She parked the car too far away from the curb, but she didn’t notice. She was looking around for another car – the one that doesn’t smell like cherry air freshener. No, that one smelled like leather. It was clean and clutter-free. It was roomy and had all kinds of little cup holders that popped out at the touch of a button. She also liked how the seats became warm when it was freezing outside. But not much else inside that car was warm. In fact, the coldness within it was what made her wish she were still a cat.

Those were the feline days! Lying around on the window sill and purring used to come naturally to her. All she had to do was open that window, and the world would be at her paws. After all, her coat was always soft and luxurious. Everyone wanted to rub against it – even the dogs. And she didn’t mind – she loved the admiration. Bring it on, she used to say. The more the merrier. And was it merry! Back then, she never took the phone into the shower with her. Let it ring, she thought as she lay in her bubbly water. When she did answer, she didn’t even care who was at the other end. As long as what the voice was saying sounded enticing, she listened. And they kept calling. Until she became a monkey.

She was a cute chimp, though. She would part her hair in the middle and dot scented oil behind her ears. She made him fondue dinners and knitted mittens. He didn’t make her anything, but she liked holding his hand as they walked to her place. They’d be hungry after the meetings where they all sat around in a circle and shared. She also liked how, after the meal, he’d wrap his hands around her waist and nuzzle the back of her neck. She’d always wash the dishes slowly, to prolong that closeness. After he’d leave, she would wander around the kitchen, looking around and hoping he had forgotten something. A lighter, a mitten, anything. ♦DiggIt!Add to del.icio.usAdd to Technorati Faves

Thursday, June 04, 2009

You put your right foot in, you take your wallet out...


Boy, am I glad that I don’t shop at Barneys – otherwise, I would be truly devastated that all the seven and a half’s are gone at the first blink of the shoe salesman. Who cares that the shoes’ price is equal to two and a half months of groceries for a family of four – they’re on sale! And sale, my friends, is the magic word, recession or no recession. After all, someone must be buying up all these beauties, price notwithstanding.

The New York Times shares, “As for size 7 1/2, there is scant hope. The shelves are virtual graveyards, save for a few isolated pieces too insane to be functional (eight-inch Alaïa platform wedgies made of bronzed reptile — sale price, $1,399).” Now I will forever wonder what it feels like to be as tall as my husband or to scare little children with my shoes. Man, oh man, why can't I be popular instead of my shoe size!
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Monday, June 01, 2009

Eine Kleine Nachtdining Tale

So, two of us were starving for some hearty food, and one of us was thirsty for something other than Cola. We decided to forego the usual haunts (Pakarang and Sakura, if you must know) and meet on Thayer. Urban Outfitters welcomed us with its enticing outdoor sale racks, and promptly disappointed with the indoor rags. After browsing for a couple of minutes, we came to the conclusion that our grandmothers would have more attractive clothes inside their attic chests, if they had attics (or chests, for that matter). Who knows, maybe UO was going for the homeless-chic aesthetic… Whatever it was, it was too sloppy, too ugly and too yard-sale-find-ish with distinctly non-yard-sale prices. On to the food.

Since we wanted to sit outside, we settled on oh-so-stylish Café Paragon. (I’m convinced you pay 15% for the restaurant name alone). But, who cares when there’s “Sun in the sky, you know how I feel…” I don’t know what possessed me to order the pizza in this place (my merlot?), when Nice Slice is practically next door and offers better grub at a fraction of the price, but I might have been motivated by the fact that everything else on the menu was either unappetizing for my taste buds or too appetizing for my wallet. So, we ended up with a bunch of Margarita pizzas (I set the tone since certain people just kept copying my orders, no names mentioned) and an $11 tuna tartar appetizer (yes, the damn appetizer was $2 more than the entrée!). But, I just had to have that dish since I was seduced by the Hemenway’s version. Paragon’s tuna was fatty, decorated with pleasant tangy aioli and accompanied by some dyed (pink) ginger and a surprisingly crunchy seaweed salad (I always imagined it to taste mushy). I did try to be fair (against my better judgment) and divided the dish into equal parts. So, yes, it was worth every penny.

The pizza, on the other hand, was no paragon; please pardon the pun and the unintentional alliteration. (Ok, stopping the insanity now.) I should have changed my order when the waitress was not sure how to answer, “Is it thin-crust?” Finally, she said, “It’s got some crust to it,” but by then, I was too famished to care. So, when it arrived, it looked exactly like it came from a box in the back of your freezer – the one that’s been there for a half a year, and better be eaten now or never. Yes, it had a somewhat thick and wooden crust and some nondescript cheese and forgettable sauce, but who cares? It filled the stomach, and we were having a good time.




Our gastronomic luck improved with the foray into Juniper. The relatively new establishment beckons with New-York style frozen yogurt (the easiest way I can describe it is – it tastes like yogurt that’s been frozen … you’ll understand once you taste it). Currently, they have two flavors (plain and blueberry) … well, three if you count the plain-and-blueberry combo. You can load it up with all kinds of toppings (gummy bears, strawberries, mango, chocolate-covered grasshoppers). Oh, good, you’re paying attention! But, if you don’t want to spend a dollar on two toppings or you are a purist who does not want to take away from the creamy-yogurt taste, rest assured that topping-free dessert still tastes great. I, of course, had to sample mine loaded with fruit (now I am thinking about writing a poem on the virtues of dairy with berries).

Some crazy woman decided that we should press our lady luck and get even more great dessert. When I’m thinking of sweets, I sometimes forget about the two-block line at Pastiche on Saturday nights. So, since Pastiche was not in the cards that night, we walked over to a nearby dessert place to satisfy the said woman’s sweet tooth. I’m not going to mention the name of that establishment since I don’t have too many complimentary comments to make regarding the experience (they did have comfy couches and great music, though – jazzy, breathy, sixties-style). The apple caramel pie tasted somewhat like – well, sugar with more sugar poured on top of it. The tiramisu was so old and stale that it was crispy. That’s a six-dollar two-day-old tiramisu I’m talking about. Do they realize tiramisu contains raw eggs?! Got to run now. ♦DiggIt!Add to del.icio.usAdd to Technorati Faves