Dying at this Eater graphic because ain’t it the truth?
"Moules frites that spent a semester in Thailand"
If “how to be happy” was as simple as deciding every morning that you are in a good mood, then antidepressants would not exist.
Recently, The Dude and I have been making an effort to do new things in the city. It’s so easy when you work as much as we do to fall into a rut with your free time. You end up spending any nights when you’re not stuck at the office just sitting on the couch or, if you can motivate to
leave your apartment,* going out to the same old restaurants and drinking beers at the same old bars. Which is fine, sometimes! (For example, football season.) But it can get boring after a while, especially when you realize that your existence has basically become a prolonged late adolescence, with better clothes and worse hangovers.
So, last week, after flipping through the pages of Time Out New York that nobody ever actually reads, The Dude found a couple of events that we were really excited about attending. Both of them were concerts, because, contrary to all of the hate mail I received after I posted about going to Governor’s Ball, I actually really like music! Just not teenagers.
First, we saw the Dirty Dozen Brass Band at Blue Note. Not only were they incredible, energetic, and unbelievably fun, but they reconfirmed to me the power that musical ability has on one’s attractiveness.** For example, the lead singer, pictured holding the trumpet below, got a group of 25 year old women who I’m pretty sure were models to ecstatically dance on stage with him and (I think) exchange phone numbers with him after the show. And I don’t blame them — the guy was awesome.
Next, we went to Prospect Park on Saturday night and saw Deltron 3030. The show was GREAT, complete with Dan the Automator wearing a tuxedo with tails, Kid Koala spinning in a koala costume (he lost a bet, apparently), and Del the Funky Homosapian ending the encore with a rendition of “Clint Eastwood” backed by a live orchestra. More importantly, however, I had perhaps the most nutritionally balanced dinner of my life:
Yes, that is a giant chipwich, yes, it cost $7, yes, it was worth every penny, and yes, it paired beautifully with that Bud Light Lime.
*And by that, obviously I mean “put on a bra.”
** The prototypical example of this phenomenon. Those kids lucked out.
I had to make some really difficult decisions this week. They were hard, but they were long overdue, and they were completely necessary.
Standing up for yourself is tough. Doing the right thing, even if someone is going to hate you for it, is even tougher.
And after the events that happened yesterday, I think it’s fair to say that we’ve all had a pretty rough week. So here is a cute photo of Nico:
Enjoy your weekend, kids.
These are an abomination.
(I will clearly try the Cheddar Bacon Mac & Cheese.)
Last night, I made Pinch of Yum’s Honey Ginger Tofu and Veggie Stir Fry. (The photo above was obviously taken by them, and not me, because there is no chance in hell a reclaimed wood farmers-style dining room table would fit in a downtown Manhattan apartment.) LET IT BE KNOWN: this was excellent, filling, and most importantly, healthy, especially after a weekend where my consumption was limited to following:
- Gin & tonics
- Duck fried rice
- Multiple pints of Carlsberg, because that was what was on special at the bar where we watched the World Cup Finals, even though it isn’t Argentinian or German ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
- Probably some more cheese that I’m forgetting
So, feeling bloated and disgusted with myself, I cooked this for dinner, and soon all was restored in the world. I used quinoa because I think brown rice tastes like shit and Whole Foods was out of farro (my god, what a bougie sentence), but it still tasted very good. Also, please note that this makes a literal metric ton of sauce. I recommend using the specified amounts of sauce for the stir frying and then pouring on the sauce as needed once you’ve assembled the dish. Otherwise your healthy tofu and vegetables will be swimming in what basically amounts to liquefied sodium, and although that sounds *delicious* it may not be the best way to recover from an over-indulgent weekend.
I’m only two weeks into my half-marathon training program but I’m already so bored of my running playlist that I think my ears may spontaneously start bleeding if I hear Girl Talk one more time. Anyone have any recommendations for me? Preferably from this decade, but I’ll take anything. THANKS DUDES.
I am not exaggerating in the least when I say that this humble taco shack played a seminal role in the formative years of my relationship with The Dude. There’s nothing like blue corn tortilla tacos to bring a burgeoning couple closer together. It’s closing on July 31, so if you happen to be wandering around the East Village late at night, potentially after being sliiiiiightly over-served, please visit it before then. I’m partial to the Johnny Boy, the chorizo taco, and the quack-n-cheese.
May we never forget:
I was recently assigned to a new case with a senior partner that I’ve never worked with before. I just got revisions on a memo back from him, and it’s clear from his markup that he uses the Oxford comma.
I am literally weeping tears of joy.
help me help me I am paralyzed until I am doing nothing more than wearing this outfit every day for the rest of my life