Outflanked

This weekend proved yet another of culinary delights and no photographic evidence thereof.* Nonetheless, delightful it was. Friday night saw us grabbing late night martinis (Hendrick's of course, sweetie) and "bar menu" snacks at Cafe Noir. We enjoyed truffle fries, a gorgeous pizza with caramelized onions and a lovely fried egg in the middle, and chorizo arancini.

Saturday was TOH's departmental holiday party. We spent a LONG time cooking, and so arrived late and missed the homemade samosas, which greatly disappointed me. The reason for our tardiness was my being inspired by this lovely lady's musings on her successes with Guinness gingerbread and my attempt to recreate it. I used this recipe, but be warned: only half-fill your tin as you may otherwise have some serious spillage. Nonetheless, it was worth it: the cake was moist, extremely gingery and rich and wonderful. We also made a billion devils on horseback and trolled off to the party, where we were greeted by some glorious singing from a Greek choir (the choirmaster is married to someone in the department and she sang vigorously all the while with a very very small infant strapped in a papoose around her chest - it was amazing). The eating at the do wasn't quite so exciting, but that was probably because we'd been overdosing on sugar from the ginger cake (it had to be tested, obviously) and the amazing zimsterne that our friend made. Basically, they're almonds and sugar and are wonderfully chewy and delicious. We then tried to shake off our sugar crashes by trying out duckpin bowling. Verdict: hard. My hands are a bit small for the ball and it took a while to get used to it, but definitely will have another go - I think it could end up more satisfying (and far less stressful on the wrist) than ten-pin bowling.

Sunday saw us hiking in the Myles Standish State Forest, a lovely part of Massachusetts.
(no creator credited - if it's yours, please let me know).

It was certainly a lot more barren than this photo suggests, but the walk took us through woodland and then would suddenly throw us out into meadows where lovely late afternoon sunlight made the ears of grass glint beautifully golden. After seven miles in the more-or-less freezing temperatures, we felt fairly justified in scoffing a truly delicious meal. TOH and I had sampled some fantastic steak in Whole Foods on Saturday morning, and then he watched the demo lady recreate it. Essentially, you season flank steak and then sear it both sides. You remove to let it rest. Then in the same pan, you melt a healthy chunk of (decent) butter, and add chopped shallots (fairly fine but not minced) and roughly chopped trumpet mushrooms. Add a healthy dollop (around 1 tbsp) of dijon mustard. Let them sweat together and then add either some rosemary or, as we did, thyme. Then add, if so desired, a splash of white wine. After cutting it in thinnish strips (perhaps about 1/2 an inch) against the grain of the meat, you put the steak back in for a final round of cooking so the juices all mix together. We served it with sauteed potatoes and a large serving of roquette/arugula and watercress, and were knocking back pouilly-fuisse - a chardonnay-based white that I can cope with, generally, as although it has the roundness of chardonnay it's not overwhelmingly oaky or in your face. For dessert, the remains of the ginger cake along with some creme fraiche. Add to that a viewing of The Holy Grail and you have yourself a very pleasant evening.

* Well, there is this, at least:



In case you're wondering - and I expect you are - the thing that's attacking TOH is a bushukan, or "buddha's hand," which is a relative of the lemon. It's particularly useful because you get a ton of zest off it without all that pesky juicy fruit inside. Very strange but beautiful indeed. The display caused a great deal of fascination in Whole Foods on Saturday morning as TOH and I took photos of us attacking each other with them. They smell glorious - lemon with a floral, almost rose-like scent.

They're onto Me

The subject line of a piece of spam I just received:

Have you brushed your hair this morning?

It's almost like they are watching me. Regularly. And certainly this morning.

Questioning

At Shakesville, they ask "What is your favourite silly question game to play with friends?" Mine always seem to devolve into ranking games, with the number one game that TOH and I play ranking couples on who we could beat up in a fight. Sad, but true. We'd do reasonably well, based on our generally large weight advantage and my ruthlessness (i.e. spitefulness/viciousness when cornered). I wish I could say street smarts from growing up on the mean (ahem) streets of Catford, but that's sadly lacking.

The Best Medicine

Despite the overwhelming joy felt in parts this week, it's been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. The problems with Prop 8 and the general overwhelming tide of homophobia has got to me. The ongoing problems in Mexico are overwhelming friends. Work's been hard. I've been exhausted all week, not made it to the gym and eaten badly which always make me feel sluggish and grim.

So I've decided that finding something that makes you giggle uncontrollably and reliably every time is pretty special.

And now I have three ultra-reliable, guaranteed to make your sides hurt clips on YouTube that I can call up whenever I need a bit of a boost. I give you (from newest to oldest): Paul Rudd Dance, Legally Blonde: The Search for Elle Woods and Cake or Death.

Ups & Downs

This week has been a somewhat exhausting one. First, we got jonned this week. TOH's junior sibling was in town as my liver, wallet and expanded paunch know all too well. Still, mucho fun had by all, and I'm slowly starting to catch up on sleep, water and vegetables.

Second, the grind of school got to me a little, it must be said, particularly when TOH, TOH junior and various other friends were off having a simply marvellous time without me. So, it was apt that, to go with my somewhat changeable moods, on Thursday I went to an NJ institution known as "The Great Adventure" - the Garden State's version of Six Flags.* At Six Flags we went on many, many exciting rides, most of which were exhilarating (on the Superman they literally strap you in so you're lying horizontally facing the ground - awesome!), none of which quaked my guts beforehand like the Kingda Ka. If you've never had the fortune to see it, it's the world's tallest and fastest rollercoaster - and it's ridiculous. It's the equivalent of a 45 stories high; it gets up to 128 mph in a mere 3.5 seconds. Holy moly. I was absolutely bricking it beforehand. TOH junior wasn't much comfort, it must be said. We also had to be unsecured and secured three times, because the poor gentleman who must have waited about 45 minutes to get to the front seat was too large to fit under the secure harness. But once it got going - absolutely bloody brilliant. Wundebar. As you can see from the video below (you need to wait to about 53 seconds to see the real action).

* Why is it called Six Flags? Not because it's "more fun," as the adverts claim, but because there are "Six flags over Texas." Or some other such nonsense. But that's what DGC told me, and everything he says is true. And righteous. And awesome.

Now, back down to earth, to practice essays, and being at school at 8.30, and all the stuff I don't like. Still, saving myself up for another visit - and definitely sitting in the front row this time...

Hiatus

It's the Monday of the first week after law school finished.

It's weird. But good. But weird.

So here are my aims for this post-law-school-pre-graduation-and-bar-course limbo:

1. Go to the gym! Seriously, I need some getting in shape to be done.
2. Catch up on my crappy tv.
   
3. Spend time doing stuff I'm not going to be able to do for months - or, at least, without severe pangs of guilt - go to the movies in the afternoon, have a kickaround in the park, that sort of thing
4. READ! For pleasure!

Erm, that's about it, really. Still, not bad eh? That's literally all I have to do for the next couple of weeks.

Nothing to do?

Read some of my favourite posts from the past week:

• Scott Lemieux's take on the Hyde Amendment and "negative" versus "positive" rights- I love this guy's pro-choice stuff, it's always extremely good. From that blog I also love the "Worst American Birthdays" series, too.
• Why Can't He Be My Husband? from Dlisted
• Vayner's Back! from Gawker
• I'd forgotten about the gabba dancing, but thanks to the soup, it's back in my consciousness! also: vajapocalypse (we can talk later about the absolute fricking outrage that is abc's censoring of the word vagina but not penis).
• In vajayjay news, PS - vote for bitchphd's award - and this excellent analysis of an arseholish post on the word is another reason why you should.

Clouds Beneath the Moon

Back down to earth and onto classes today. joy. Whereabouts of the luggage completely unknown at the moment, but hopefully it'll turn up at some point.

Blogging will resume tomorrow, I think, but perhaps I will post a couple of things that I wrote while on holiday. Yes, my commitment to you, dear readers, doesn't even cease while I'm sipping rum drinks by the pool.

Bundles of Joy

I've come to a decision, people, and you're not going to like it. I am about to enter into the world of true trash and inanity and start tivoing Katie & Peter. I just am. And you can't stop me. Seriously.

Why? An unusual source joining the embodiment of female empowerment regarding names has come along: Jordan has had her baby with Peter Andre. This from the Guardian's sidelines on the joyous new arrival:

Price of being a princess
Glamour model Katie Price - aka Jordan - and her disconcertingly cheerful husband Peter Andre, have revealed the name of their newborn daughter: Princess Tiáamii (tee-ah-me, should you ever need to say it out loud). We kind of like it. "Princess" denotes her as an unequivocally high-status female. Tiáamii is derived from Peter and Katie's mother's names - Thea and Amy - thus honouring the maternal line both ways. Good work, the Andres! Which you will now undo by dressing the child in nothing but pink until her 18th birthday.

Further, they go on to say: "We've put an accent over the first 'a' to make it a bit more exotic and two i's at the end just to make it look a bit different." Awesome.

Potter and Out

So, I finished it.

I cried.

I'm still upset.

But I shall reveal NOTHING to you dear friends, unlike evil people who seem bent on ruining everything for everyone else because they are BIG FAT KILLJOYS AND MEAN. Although this is funny - and of course entirely true.

I need to re-read it - and somehow not convey the plot details to TOH before we go to Oaxaca,* where I shall read it again.

Nonetheless, if you have time to look up from the Deathly Hallows, or are trying to avoid all the spoilers on the internet,** then I suggest having a peek at these gems on a tinternet terminal near you:

• Nona Willis-Aronovitz on why modesty is not where it's at - linked from Feministe
• Caryl Rivers on why Bush is waging war on science to repress women, via Feministing
• Anna Pickard deconstructing the Oh My God video by Lily Allen & Mark Ronson - this is absolutely bloody brilliant!
• Scott Murray on faceless US golfers (do not read if you're so immensely patriotically US that you love faceless journeymen golfers with no charisma who do nothing ever again) - seriously, even if you don't like golf, this is hilarious as Murray nearly has a nervous breakdown over Sergio - plus here's the playoff as it happened but it's nowhere near as funny
• The Times on the worst fifty premiership players ever - and kudos to TOH for guessing the number one man right. TOH, you am the best, as always.
• GFY surpasses itself yet again by featuring some of my most favourite people to fug - Posh, the Cruisemeister - and combining it with references to Will Smith's awesome back-catalogue. I love these women.

*Did I mention that we're going on holiday? To this place? Did I?

Indiscriminate

Today's post features another installment using the wondrous shuffle feature of my new (and growing increasingly comfortable & familiar) pod.

1. Let's Get Lifted Again - John Legend (from Get Lifted). Ye gods, I love this album. I love, love, love it. When Once Again came out I was obsessed with it, and I still think it's beautiful, but recently my love for his first album has been resurrected. His voice is extraordinary, and the production, as one would expect from a Kanye album, is extremely good. I think my favourite track is I Can Change (the one with Snoop), but honestly, it's all incredible. This is a beautiful, short interlude where his gently scratchy voice swoops over light guitars and finger clicks. Grand. I love him so much I am even considering getting up at 4.30 in the morning on August 3rd to see him play for free early in the morning. Considering. But not going to, obviously.

2. Psychotic Feeling - Of Montreal (from the Promo EP). This track really reminds me of a mixture of Clor, who in turn reminds me of the Buggles, and I think the Shins - not necessarily a bad combo. I got this recommendation from Scuttsy, and I haven't taken to it quite as much as I thought, but it's certainly enjoyable, probably a grower. It's that kind of quirky tune that I just don't reach for when scrolling my music collection, but when it comes on shuffle I'm reminded that I might quite like it. Yet I will not play it again until random rules come around again, in all probability. Shame...

3. Pick a Sound - Selah Collins (from Watch How the People Dancing). Dub from a collection KTB gave me after her phenomenal trip to Antigua Carnival. I'm still jealous. Dub is another of those genres that I love when it comes on, and particularly at Carnival time, but I forget about it. Although I don't think I could handle an entire night of it, but with it thrown into a general dance night I'd go absolutely nuts.

4. Army of Me - Bjork (from Post). I have mixed feelings towards Bjork, that fluctuate within even the course of a song: I can find her phrasing irritating, particularly where she does the naif / ingenue thing (It's Oh So Quiet particularly gets my goat), which annoys me given she is a strong, creative and passionate woman - why do the little girl thing? Which is probably why I love this song so much - she's just giving someone a smackdown, as I fully suspect her of doing on a regular basis when someone peeves her, and as many a photographer has found to his cost. Nonetheless, she remains one of the most innovative and unusual artists around, and I really, really, really must get her new album, Volta, which I know is rated by a lot of peeps I would usually admire.

5. Tear Out My Eyes - Tricky (from Angels with Dirty Faces). Hahahahaha, how utterly bloody perfect. I was going to make some crack about admiring Bjork's ability to go out with talented nutters (Goldie, Tricky) and then thought better of it; next comes this rather... tuneless and paranoid track from one of Tricky's most paranoid and tuneless albums. One night this album got stuck on repeat on my CD player and gave me nightmares, seriously. It was terrifying. But it still has my favourite Tricky track of all time, Broken Homes, on which PJ Harvey hams it up and a beautifully dischordant gospel choir never fails to raise the hairs on the back of my neck - it's glorious. It's such a shame that he's nuts, because his first three albums (Maxinquaye, Nearly God, and Pre-Millennium Tension) I think are genuinely brilliant.

6. Mental Alchemy - The Nextmen (from Amongst the Madness). And another beautiful segue from the nutter Tricky into a track from Amongst the Madness - do you see? The Nextmen are one of my other half's most listened-to artists, although they've slipped a bit down the top twenty. This is quality UK hip hop. Sadly, I don't listen to as much hip hop as I should, due to fears of not being able to work to it. Yet this works perfectly - I resolve to listen to them more.

7. The Love I Never Had - Mary J. Blige (from Mary). What I love about MJB is that with every album, this one is the cathartic one, the true expression of herself; she said it for this album, for No More Drama, for the latest one (name of which I can't remember, but it features the unbelievably great Baggage and then lots of other songs confronting bad men from her past). But I still have a serious weakness for her, simply because her voice is glorious, and she puts so much energy and emotion into her expression without being waily, in my opinion, a la Aguilera / Carey / Dreamgirls. For her, it never seems an exercise in stretching her voice, in showing off her range, but a necessary extension of herself, she cannot stop herself... Which may still not be to everyone's tastes, but it makes a genuine difference to my listening.

8. High and Dry - Radiohead (from The Bends). This remains one of my favourite albums of all time, and this song is one of the best off it - it was the one that made me fall in love with the album. I never did quite understand the "radiohead make you depressed, they're just so depressing" brigade. They sang, at least at their peak, exquisitely crafted songs, and Thom Yorke's voice is glorious - it soars, it snarls, it pleads, and is another spinetingler. A friend didn't think his solo album was great, because it was just quite like Radiohead; for me, that's why I rate it.

9. Knowing - Big Boi (from Speakerboxxx). This whole double-album thing, along with The Love Below, was one that everyone rated, and yet I never really felt the motivation to listen to the whole way. Other than a few choice tracks - I Like The Way You Move, Roses, Hey Ya! - it was all a bit... dull. Maybe I'd like it more now. I think it was that everyone was so desperate for a new Prince that they seized upon The Love Below. However, listening to it now, I am reminded that I liked Speakerboxxx better, to be contrary for a change. Having Pharrell sing over the top is never a bad thing, mind.

10. Royksopp's Night Out - Royksopp (from Melody A.M.). I really, really like Royksopp. It's not the band's fault that it created such a boppable first album that every advertising agency in the known universe wanted to use its tunes - Geico, T-mobile, come on down (at least it's better than Catherine Zeta Jones). The second album is surprisingly dancey. I bet live they're a bit like Thievery Corporation, whose albums sound loungey, yet when you see them sound utterly amazing and make you want to throw some shapes.

11. Cantaloop - US3. Now this is lounging music. Biddebiddebop.

12. Got Fucked Up Along The Way - David Holmes (from This Films Crap Lets Slash the Seats). I love David Holmes, but seriously - what's he done lately other than the Ocean's 11 Soundtrack, which was years ago? Let's Get Killed was the soundtrack to TOH & my first trip to NYC many years ago... He's the sheikh!

Similitude

It looks different. It feels different. It's not as soft and round-edged. It's a replacement, yet not a substitute.

I'm sure I'll grow to love my new iPod. It's just not quite the same; not yet. Still, Interpol and LCD Soundsystem have accompanied me this morning - some things have not changed.

In the meantime, here's why you should never offer to help with the washing up after a dinner party - at least, if you're not prepared to deal with some grizzly meat:

A Belgian man has been arrested after a dinner guest helping to clear up after the meal opened a freezer and found the bodies of the host's wife and stepson.

That makes me feel so much better about the state of my fridge - at least there's nothing that once was human in there. Still, a defrosting might be necessary this weekend. Ye gods I'm old. Full story here on the beeb.

And for those who are bored, here's some entertainment, all of which require sound:

• The Landlord
• Good Cop, Baby Cop
• Dramatic Prairie Dog - yes, I know it's everywhere, but it's also bloody funny
• Oh Aggers, do stop it - this is guaranteed to make you laugh. Seriously - if it doesn't, you are made of stone. Go to the mp3 linked on wiki.

Groover. Vancouver. Hoover?

Those who know me know of my great love for Go Fug Yourself. It is, without question, the greatest website on earth. Yes, even better than kittenwar or stuffonmycat.

Today, however, it surpassed its own incredibly high standards. When I was an early teen, I had a big big big thing for Bryan Adams. Not a sexual attraction thing, but an all-encompassing love. My first ever concert was Bryan himself, supported by Extreme. Yes, "morethanwords" Extreme. It was at Wembley Arena; I got a t-shirt. I went with my best friend and my mum's best friend, who took us. It was great, I think. I can't really remember, but it didn't quell my love for BA until I suddenly became utterly obsessed with the Beatles at the age of fourteen and refused to listen to anything else, for a while - other than Blur - but those are two different stories for a different post.

At the time of the Adams obsession I may have also been a bit of a teenybopper but, for me, loving the Adams meant that I was a bit harder-edged than the other take that lovers. Please pick yourself up from the floor, stitch back together those sides that have split from guffawing at me. Fortunately I got into indie & dance music. But my nostalgia for Bryan remains. Hence my great pleasure at GFY today. Any post that manages to slate this horrible outfit while concentrating entirely on the back catalogue of the GFV is awesome.

A Rose

It is a long-standing, firmly held opinion of mine that any daughter I have will have a woman's name. And by that, I mean a name that is not derived from a man's name - at least not quite so obviously as Nigella, despite her loveliness. I have a standalone name, to which it took me a great deal of time to become accustomed. I did not particularly like it - when I was growing up, only old ladies had my name. Now, it seems, every time I go to the doctor's surgery there is at least one child with my name who is roaring around and being yelled at; I think--no, I know--that I preferred the rarity of my moniker. I liked being the only one. And while I do not want my child to have a name along the lines of Ptolemy or Peaches, I would like her to feel special in the way I often did.

Anyway, it's moot now. As it turns out, I should avoid vowels and "feminine" names if I want her to be any good at science. So Nigel it is. That's bloody well rare.

I give up

Read this on why women's assertion of their rights and equality is responsible for all society's ills and weep. Well, Zoe won't make you weep, but the Daily Mail - and the Independent, for pity's sake - and its jumping on the story... unsurprising but, yet again, depressing. It's just like that fricking Angry Harry website. Disastrous. But still our fault. Of course.

In more disappointing news, apparently L-Lo is going out with James Blunt Rhyming Slang. I officially, hereinafter, wash my hands of the stupid woman.

This Week In Short

My endlessly amusing (or, in fact, often incredibly depressing) look at the world around us for the first week in October brings me to the following:

1) Yet another observation that the more titles like "people", "democratic" and "republic" you have in your nation's name, the more likely it is that you have a crazy dictatorship on your hands. Case in point: Democratic People's Republic of Korea, or North Korea as the rest of us know it. Am currently reading the Human Rights Commission (now disbanded due to complete inefficacy, particularly on Darfur and Uzbekistan) report from 2001. Report from DPROK only a mere fourteen years late. There is a part of the criminal code which allows for punishment of offences not included in the criminal code - GENIUS!

I AM NOW GOING TO BE CHEERY!

2) Although this is very scary indeed - how much information they have about us... it's crazy.

3) Russians are ingenious.

4) The joke in popbitch today made my day. It's the Bono one, by the way, which hasn't been updated, as of time of publishing.

5) I still feel a sense of pride that my alma mater is a rather good place... but I don't get the American idea that Oxford is better than Cambridge, given that every bloody survey of this thing and rankings for the last umpteen years has stated, rather clearly, that the light side beats the dark side. But the US folks are convinced. Wrong, but convinced.

6) Buy a TOTALLY AWESOME T-shirt!

Frivol

Nick Laham/Getty Images from the NY Times.

Yayayayayayay! The Mets finally win, so this is the frivolous edition. Hence an article link about those roller shoe things that all the kids are wearing and I really, really want - and this guy too, tried the adult version.

The rocking KTB put me onto this website, which I am loving this morning with the whole Fergie thing. And it's particularly apt, as this weekend I found out that I have no idea how you take crystal meth - and nor do my friends. Which is a good sign, obviously, because none of us will get meth mouth*, but means we are definitely getting old. It turns out all our guesses -smoking, injecting, snorting - were all right. How exciting.

* Please do not look at this on a vaguely queasy/hungover stomach.

Soundtracks and Serendipity

My 21st birthday was rather infamous for its drunkenness, length of hangover (forty eight full hours - a record for me), and surprising levels of ebullience and enthusiasm over Dutch techno. However, what I will remember is that, after the diving and enormous chocolate cake and banner and streamers that my wonderful friends had prepared for me, we got back and, somewhat fortuitously, they were showing Cocktail on Brazilian tv. AWESOME. Dubbed, rather than subtitled, but still - a joy.

Hence maybe you can understand the elation I felt on arriving back in San José yesterday to find Teen Wolf on tv. I understood most of it, and it was just... so nostalgic. Particularly apt as I've just seen the episodes of Scrubs where MJ guest stars. He is just a complete hero, and if he's willing to share the fact that his children call him "Shaky Daddy", then he's even more amazing. Even better, looking for actors making their starts, saw Lynnette's irritating husband from Desperate Housewives in it as a fellow basketball player put out at the Wolf's success and showboating on the court. That's serendipity.

So was, of course, feeling depressed that my usual internet joint was out of action, only to walk into a cheaper (and, admittedly, crapper) one where The Girl Is Mine was playing. You can't buy fortune like that - it's destiny, my friends.

I like life. The only thing I wish is that I could have a soundtrack. The ipod does help, but of course that gets in the way of actual conversations. Right now everything would be something by Sting because my legs are revoltingly covered in insect bites. And, of course, anything mixed by the Scratch Perverts.

Woman! Know Your Limits

Today's Lessons:

1) Don't dare be a 16 year old experimenting with sexuality in Iran.

2) Don't think about having sex before marriage - true rebellion lies in only having sex with one man, as long as that ring's on your finger, staying in the kitchen and dressing modestly because men can't control themselves otherwise.

3) Zink is bad for you.

A more sweeping objection was exercised by an Iowa lawyer, TM Zink, in 1930. He left $50,000 in trust for 75 years for the eventual foundation of the Zink Womanless Library. Signs saying "No Women Admitted" were to be posted at each entrance and no books, works of art or decorations by women were to sully the premises or its environs. He graciously proffered a full and frank explanation for the decision in his will. "My intense hatred of women is not of recent origin or development nor based upon any personal differences I ever had with them but is the result of my experiences with women, observations of them and study of all literatures and philosophical works." Alas, his family successfully challenged his post-mortem plans and the Zink monument to misogyny was never built.

4) Will Smith can no longer be trusted.

5) Don't worry your pretty little heads over why 99s are called thus - no one knows.

Here endeth the lesson.

GBH

- Forgot to mention yesterday that another aim for the next year is to WAX my friends - I cannot shave my legs properly to save my life. Wax until Christmas, epilator afterwards. SWEET. You needed to know that.

- CRICKET: Grievous Bodily Harmison (probably TM The Sun) is BACK! I cannot begin to tell you how happy that makes me. His morning was good, afternoon even better.