It's Friday! Friday-Friday-Friday! And I think it just might be time for another round of

Things Alisha Loves!

- Pinkberry frozen yogurt

My friend Stef turned me on to this stuff and now I can't go a week without it, goddammit. It's frozen yogurt, but it's not the sicky sweet TCBY-crap you're used to. It's actual yogurt (whoa!) which means it's tangy and not very sweet which may sound like a milky bowl of nasty, but trust me, it's good. But what really makes it are the toppings, which range from chopped mango (just mango, no goopy syrup) and blackberries to Cap'n Crunch and - if you're in the know - sweetened sticky rice. My favorite combo is Stef's: a medium plain with blueberries, mangos, and mini chocolate chips (again, sounds gross, so good) but I can only get that if I'm sharing it, and I'm never sharing it, so my usual treat is a small with mangos. And for those who care about such things, it's only 3 points. (2, if I'm counting it.)

- Kiehl's Creme with Silk Groom

Yeah, yeah, you've read all about this stuff. I'm so not the one breaking the news on this product but really, I have to gush. It's got super hold while keeping your hair incredibly soft. I'm always on the lookout for curl-enhancers and over the years I've gone through my fair share (Frizz Ease, you can bite me) but this stuff never fails. But there's a secret (a stylist on a shoot taught me). You can't just put it in your hair willy-nilly and expect perfection. Here's the drill*: after you've showered and lightly towel dried your hair, take a glob of the creme and run it through your hair, top to tip, coating it. (Don't go crazy - it's not mayo - but don't be too stingy either.) Then take a small section of hair, wrap it around your finger like a curling iron, hold for a second, then release. Repeat wherever you want curls. Then either blow dry with a diffuser (being sure to move the hair as little as possible. I cup my hair in my hands and hold the drier still. Moving the drier causes frizz) or let dry naturally (my usual choice because I'm lazy). It works like gangbusters. *Please note, if you have super-fine/oily hair, this might not be the best product for you.

- Banana Republic's Flutter Sleeve Dress
I just bought this baby in beige and ooooh it's a winner.

- Edy's Slow Churned low-fat ice cream
A small bowl of the cookie dough flavor blanketed with some Dove dark chocolate fudge topping and an episode of Adoption Stories... Yeah.

- Adoption Stories
While I wouldn't call this show a guilty pleasure (it's on Discovery Health channel, after all), there's something about it that makes me feel a touch cringy. Maybe it's the the tinkly background music or the constant soft focus or diaper-ad voiceover they use. Truth be told, I rarely watch the whole thing (all I really care about is finding out is why they couldn't get pregnant. Once they've got the kid, whatevs) but if it's on, I cannot not watch it.

- Etsy.com
I found this through my other fave website, She's A Betty, and while I've never actually bought anything from it, it's clearly pretty awesome. It's a website for all things handmade and let me tell you, some of the people are incredible. Pollard, Shermie, if you're still reading this, get your stuff on there pronto.

- Luckyscents
While I enjoy a jaunt to Sephora every now and again, the overwhelming perfumy scent drives me to distraction. Which is why I'm glad a good friend turned me on to this site. They have all kinds of amazing sounding scents (whoever writes their descriptions deserves a book deal, right after I give one to the person behind the J. Peterman Catalog) and the best part? You can order samples! I'm considering ordering up this one and maybe this one...

I'm grasping at straws here.

I don't watch American Idol. Shocking, right? It seems right up my alley, train wreck-wise. You've got the British guy saying mean things to people (ah, shadenfreude!), you've got Ryan Seacrest (I loathe to admit the fact that I had a minor crush on him when I lived in LA and he was a lowly radio jockey. At the time he seemed refreshing). Plus you've got the nightmare that is Paula Abdul! What's not to like?

And I've got to admit, this season sounds pretty good.

There's a contestant who's sparking quite a bit of controversy. He's talent-free, rumored to be the worst singer in Idol history, yet people keeps voting for him. There's a strong chance he might actually win. Here's the brilliant part: According to those in the know (E! online, I'm talking to you) his fans are actually giving the contest a big Fuck You. If the really untalented guy wins it effectively strips the show of any credibility, plus it's really, really funny. (The producer has said that he'll cancel the show if the guy takes the prize.) I don't even watch the show and I'm tempted to vote! After all, I seem to have a gift for it (says the woman who made Max Crumm's dreams come true).

Anybody watch?

If it's brown FLUSH IT DOWN.

(Sorry for the nonexitant posts. I've been battling a stupid cough that won't let me sleep so I've been running on low batteries for the past several days.)

Firstly, I'd just like to take a moment to congratulate Max Crumm, winner of Grease! You're the One That I Want! I still won't be buying tickets to your show, but I'm proud of you nonetheless. And while I feel that I had a small hand in your victory, there's no need to repay me. I'm just happy knowing that for once, the "wrong" guy got the part. No need to repay at all.

Unless you want to repay me. Because if you wanted to repay me for my impressive dialing skills, the ones that helped you achieve your dream of starring on Broadway for at least a month (rumor has it that's all they're giving the winners - a month contract - but I've had no verification on that), I wouldn't refuse you. Say, for example, you wanted to thank me with shelves from the Container Store. That would be the perfect way to say thank you. Personal yet useful, not too expensive or showy - sort of like you, Max!

I need shelves from the Container Store.

I love what Blueprint did with them. (That's them above.) The picture on the right (the blue side) was from a teeeeny apartment here in the city. They put them floor to ceiling in the living room and kitchen and used them in place of a dresser. I'm desperate to do this in our bedroom. Just think of it - all my craft and office supplies on shelves! Instead of the floor! It would be heaven, I tell you.

In other news, I've recently become something of an environmental - I don't want to say "zealot" because that would imply that I'm actually doing something of actual consequence - let's just say "aid-er". I recycle everything I can get my hands on, eat locally and/or organically and use those flourescent bulbs Gore told me about, but after listening to a story on NPR about how the honeybees are disappearing (not dying - DISAPPEARING. Nobody knows what's going on. It's a huge problem for citrus and almond growers because honeybees pollinate their trees and if the honeybees are gone, there won't be any fruit. Which feels like the beginning of big ol' batch of badness, if you ask me) I feel like I need to do more. Maybe it's from growing up in the 70's, all those "Don't Waste Water" campaigns, but I've always been antsy about conserving water. I shut off the faucet when I brush my teeth and recycle water for the plants and cats, but our toilet is a monster. For those who've never used our bathroom, flushing at Chez McCody feels like you're taking your life in your hands. The force of the flush is unreal - I swear it's trying suck you in. But my main concern is the amount of water it's using with each flush. Matt keeps pointing out that we're not in a drought, but I say it's still wrong to waste it. Right? (Where's Gore when you need him?)

So the other day I proposed something radical: If it's yellow, let it mellow.

Needless to say, it did not go over well.

Let me point out that I do not relish the idea! Discovering a bunch of yellow water in my toilet really nasts me out, truth be told, but as someone who pees nonstop I feel it is my duty to the planet to take some action. (Don't worry, I wouldn't do it when we have company. I'm not that committed.)

Unfortunately Matt put his foot down on this one. We don't normally have tiffs, but we might have gone a few rounds over this one. He thinks it's just too gross and can't do it. I think that he being a tiny bit selfish. He pointed out that he willingly does everything else, including reusing the plastic bags from grocery delivery as grocery bags, even though it annoys the crap out of him. I say... actually I backed down at that point. But I was pretty pissy about it.

Where do you all stand on this hot topic? If it's yellow, do you let it mellow?

Kids, this well has run dry. I gots nothin' but nothin'. All I can think about is food (I'm back on WW again and it sucks double hard), getting rid of this ridiculous cough (for those who don't know, I can't seem to cough like a normal person. Instead of a nice hearty cough, I have this wimpy little "Heh-heh". It's like living with Dubya), and whether or not Max will win on a stupid reality show.

Speaking of stupid reality shows, I'm going to be on one. I can't tell you the name, but I can tell you it'll be airing on Thursday, May 3rd at 5:00 EST (that's 4:00 CST) on the Discovery Channel, and I'm thinking of having a viewing party. First and foremost, I had no idea I was going to be on this show - I was completely bamboozled - so... yeah, shocked and bamboozled. And tired! I was very tired! That's why I seem a little stupid. It is not because I didn't know the answers. TIRED.

Anyway, I was thinking of DVR-ing it and then getting everybody over for drinks and mocking on Friday night. (Because who wants to get drunk on a Thursday?) I guarantee I will look like an ass at least once. Probably more than once. There might just be a cameo by my husband, and my co-star is my hilarious friend Gary who was also bamboozled and tired. (Not stupid! TIRED.)

Anyone game?

I had a dream last night that my husband fell in love with a phone sex operator. You know how I knew? He had a big pile of quarters by the bed.

Which leads me to Knowledge Nugget #12:
My subconsious needs to lay off the NyQuil.

Seriously, who would you rather see win?

Last night I did something I swore I'd never do. I voted for a contestant on a reality show. And not just any reality show:

"Grease! You're the One That I Want!"

I know, I KNOW. I said they wouldn't suck me in! And they did it anyway! It's like some sort of freaky mind control! (This is why I don't investigate Scientology.) But really, I had to do it. It's between Austin, the hot former soap stud who annoys the shit out of me, and Max, the geeky guy who'd never have a shot in hell at this part - but he's leagues more talented. I feel like it's my duty, nay, my obligation, to help the geek out in any way I can. And if my phone call (okay, calls. Okay, numerous calls) can help, than by God I will have done something with my life.

Say, do you think is this why these shows are so popular? Do most Americans (and by "most Americans" I think I mean "me") have so little going on altruistically that the way we feel like better people is by voting for a contestant on a game show, thereby helping someone else achieve their dream?

Which leads me to Knowledge Nugget #11:

Just because I'm shallow, doesn't make me selfish. I mean, just because I'm selfish, doesn't mean I'm not shallow. Wait... Just because I'm selfish and shallow, doesn't mean I'm not self-aware? Er, JUST BECAUSE I'M SELFISH AND SHALLOW AND SELF-AWARE, DOESN'T MEAN I DON'T WANT MAX TO WIN!

Miss Buff has lost a human-sized portion of pounds on this plan and I can't handle skipping a smoothie.

Firstly (because I'm a terrible friend) -

HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY, MISSY!

It was on the 15th but... nah, there's no excuse. (Happy Birthday! Twice!)

I slept a whopping ten hours last night (compliments of my good friend Mr. NyQuil) and am feeling a little less-than this a.m. Not like that's stopping me from heading to the Gap in search of new gym clothes. Shopping for gym clothes is sort of like shopping for cat food - it's just not that exciting. But considering the fact that I worked out yesterday in a pair of sweatpants held up by an industrial strength paper clip, I probably ought to give it some thought. I've been trying to hit the gym more lately. (And by "lately" I mean "yesterday".) The search for the perfect almond croissant combined with my inability to exhibit portion control around a pan of brownies has led to a bit of weight gain, which must be nipped. I've started tracking my food again, Weight Watchers-style, and discovered if I skip lunch I can stay within my point range. (Clearly my old point tracking technique - which I won't bore you with, unless you're a WW devotee - allowed for some serious fudging. If only it allowed for some serious fudge.) The fact that my morning smoothie is too many points makes me so grouchy I can't even stand it.

Which leads me to Knowledge Nugget #10:
I would willingly beat someone for a bacon cheeseburger.

The pretzel croissant didn't rock me.

As I grabbed a pretzel croissant this morning at City Bakery, I overheard a snippet of madness. It was between a woman (roughly fifty, long, well-maintained silver hair, expensive everything) and the young Korean foreign exchange student she was tutoring.

Rich lady: "See, in THIS COUNTRY we have something called a PRE-NUP-TU-AL AGREEMENT"

Student: "Ah, yes!"

Rich lady: "And my son, he makes A LOT OF MONEY"

Student: "Ah, what does he do?"

Rich lady: "He's in something called INTELLECTUAL ARCHITECTURE"

... and that's where she realized I was totally listening and lowered her "I know you don't speak English so I'll enunciate as if you're deaf" tone. Which is a shame really, because I am dying to know what "intellectual architecture" is.

Which leads me to Knowledge Nugget #9:
Why didn't I study intellectual architecture?

Ouch.

I do apologize for abandoning my post. There's no excuse. (Actually, there are a ton of excuses, but I would like to make it to work on time.) I've been taking a novel writing class, seeing as how I have lots of ideas but no real skillz (it's cool with the "z", yes? No?), and the homework is killing me. Scratch that - the homework is fine, it's the trying-to-write-a-book-stuff that's killing me, but enough about that.

Speaking of killing, do you ladies get waxed? We had a bout of gorgeous weather here recently and it got me thinking - Am I the only woman in the world who doesn't do this? I mean, I know I'm not (somebody's keeping Gilette in business) but it's a big thing in this city. I got a wax once - once - and vowed never again. For those who've never had a bikini wax, I have one thing to say: Awkward. You climb up on this table wearing nothing but an overgrowth of what God gave you, then they put you into these... poses. Gynocological poses. "Let's ship a few of these to Hustler" poses. And then they yank out your hair. Did I mention that part? The YANKING OUT OF THE HAIR part? Men, grab a handful of ball hair and pull.

Yeah, it feels just like that.

And women PAY for this! It's not cheap either. (Not that it should be. I sure hope the bulk of the money is going to the poor Eastern European woman who's eyeball-to-unmentionable eight hours a day.) Did I mention that you bleed? Oh yeah, the skin is thin down there. And yet I feel like an unhygienic beast not doing it. Granted, it's not like the clippers I usually use are doing me right; I tend to spend the bulk of my time looking like a plucked chicken. (Those things are hard to control!) So fill me in - do you do it? How often and why? And men, feel free to weigh in. (Not on your own personal experiences, of course. Unless you have some and then I want to read all about it.)

Which leads me to Knowledge Nugget #8:

I may be a slave to fashion, but my down there is nice and traditional.

In the immortal words of KTBuffy - "WOOT!"

CONGRATULATIONS TO KATE AND DOYCE ON THEIR ENGAGEMENT! I can't wait to come to the wedding! (Wait, I am coming to the wedding, right?)

Which leads me to Knowledge Nugget #8:
Marriage is good. Despite what bad sitcoms tell you. (Plus you get presents!)

*Please note, this photo is not from Artisanal...

Ah, birthday dinner. Matt and I made reservations at Artisanal, a French bistro in midtown. The place is famous for their cheese; it's so fancy, they have a cheese cave and a full-time fromagier (like a sommelier, except for cheese) just to make sure it's up to snuff. (Trust me, it is.)

We started with these little cheese puffs made with gruyere and butter and, I suspect, the breath of angels. My God those things were good. They were also free. See, somebody told the maitre d' that it was her (I mean "somebody's") birthday and so she (again, "somebody") got to sit in the VIP section while being showered with complementary cheese puffs. Oh yeah, that's how I roll.

We followed with a frisee salad, which I'd never had before. (For those not in the know, that's a salad made with frisee lettuce, homemade croutons, and crumbled bacon, then topped with a soft-boiled egg.) How can something so nasty-sounding taste so good? I'm not sure, but I suspect that magic is involved.

If you're going to come to Artisanal, you've got to do fondue. While I was tempted by the fondue du jour (it was called the "Hundred Cheese Fondue". C'mon! A hundred kinds of cheese!) but I stuck with their house blend. Screw forks and knives! From now on, I'm eating everything with one of those long pointy fork things! And everything will be dipped in cheese! (Seriously, what's not good dipped in cheese? Nothing, that's what.)

If you think I stopped there, you don't know me at all.

Dessert was cheesecake for Matt (let's hear it for lactose!) and a profiterole sundae for me. (Profiteroles are little puff pastries, similar to eclairs. They sliced them open and filled them with homemade pistachio ice cream, then topped it with whipped cream. The best part? It was accompanied by a little silver terrine filled with melted dark chocolate to pour on top.) In the immortal words of Pepe LePew: "Le wow."

It wasn't cheap (you only turn 35 once, right? Unless you're me, in which case you'll probably turn 35 at least three more times) but if you're in the city, I highly recommend.

Let me contrast this with my birthday lunch.

I met a great friend of mine downtown to celebrate. We decided on a restaurant called Fatty Crab (a very trendy "foodie" place) down in the (very trendy, once transvestite-heavy) meatpacking district. Basically, it was chock full of the kinds of things that get my attention. (Trendy? Check. Hard to get into? Check. Studly young chef? Check and check again.) My friend and I consider ourselves reasonably adventurous eaters, so even though I'd never had Malaysian food, I wasn't terribly concerned. After all, I love Pad Thai. How different could it be?

We all know where this going, right?

Their house specialty is a watermelon salad. It's described as "watermelon pickle and crispy pork". Granted, watermelon and pork aren't two things I automatically link, but a McDonald's breakfast sausage biscuit smeared with grape jelly sounds pretty nastacular too and lemme tell you, it's a taste treat. So we ordered it.

"Crispy pork" my ass. Try giant squares of pillowy pig fat. That's right: GIANT SQUARES OF PIG FAT. And yes, it tasted exactly the way you think it did.

Next we tried another one of their specialties - green mango with chili, sugar, and salt. To me, this sounded promising. I love a sweet/salty combo (a McDonald's sausage/jelly biscuit, anyone?) and mango is my favorite fruit. But see here's the thing - unripe mango doesn't actually taste like anything. It was like eating a carrot dipped in spice mix, minus the delicious carrot flavor. We did have some success with a bowl of fried noodles and wonton soup, but it came in this rinky-dink little bowl (that the two of us shared). Still, after the other bullshit we'd consumed, it was practically manna.

Lest you think I'm taking artistic license, here's part of a recent review of the place, posted on Chowhound:

The "tea sandwiches" were pork belly (read: pure fat), cilantro, and mayo on white bread. They were, to be blunt, disgusting. The watermelon and pork salad was equally wretched. It contained the cheapest possible cut of pork, the ones that Chinese retuarants throw out and then Fatty Crab picks through the trash to find, which had a tiny bit of meat packed between large layers of fat and gristle. But the piece de resistance remained: the traditional fish soup. Apparently the traditional fish in Malaysia is sardines from a can. I actually choked on the soup, which tasted like vomit mixed with Mylanta.

Which leads me to Knowledge Nugget #7:
I am a slave to all things trendy. (Especially if it's covered in melted cheese.)

Well, maybe not as cool as Barbie (she had a dream house!)

Happy Birthday, Me!

Happy Birthday, Brian Bosworth! (I totally got excited thinking I had the same birthday as the little kid from Family Ties, but apparently that's Brian Bonsall. Who does not share my birthday.)

Happy Birthday Chingy! (Rapper, "Powerballin" and "F*uck Dat Nigga")

And Lil' Bow-Wow! ("The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift")

And Emmanuel Lewis! (Dude! Webster!)

And Barbie! (Ohmygod Barbie)

And Kato Kaelin (Hid in OJ's poolroom)

This list leads me to Knowledge Nugget #7:

I may not be as famous as these guys, but I'm definitely just as cool. (And no one can argue with me because it's my birthday.)

It looked just like this...

It's my last official day as a 34 year old. I never feel my actual age. For the longest time I felt 24, but now I'm inching closer to 26. I can't seem to get out of my twenties which is funny, considering everyone's twenties suck. Maybe I'm just my idealized version of 26. Let's see, when I was 26...

- Apartment: a 1920's stucco two-storey with hardwood floors, french doors, and an awesome stove.

- Car: a turquoise Honda with a hot pink stripe

- Job: catering movie premieres and demo-ing cheese

- Acting work: zilch

- Boyfriend: Simon, a South African trust funder/musician with a shaved head who was training to be a shaman; Gary, a borderline obsessive/compulsive writer who battled depression and drove a truck; Joe, a half Hispanic/half Polish hip-hop dancer who went to Princeton. (I may also have been wooing Matt... Wow, I got around. Mom, don't read this.)

- Plans for the future: to be on a sitcom by 30

At 34...

- Apartment: a 750 sq. ft. one bedroom in a forty-six-storey (is it "storey" or "story"?) highrise near Times Square. Terrible cabinets, great views.

- Car: the subway

- Job: babysitter/writer/occasional actor

- Acting work: Well if that Guinness commercial ever airs...

- Boyfriend: Married and couldn't be happier (I know, I know, vomitorious)

- Plans for the future: To eat as much cheese as my stomach will allow and maybe write a book or three. (Although I still haven't let go of that sitcom fantasy)

Which leads me to Knowledge Nugget #6:

Things get better in your thirties. (But I do miss that stove)

And I actually went to college. And graduated!

Firstly, HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHINTAMANI!

(Sorry I spelled your name wrong for so many years...)

Good goddamn it was cold today. It better not be this cold on Friday, that's all I have to say. I've got big plans: just me, the husband, and a vat full of molten cheese. (Nothing says "birthday" like dipping things in fermented milk.) When I was living in LA, I spent several months working for a fantastic organic dairy. My main job was to demo their products at fancy supermarkets. Because it combined two of my skills - talking to people and eating stuff - I did remarkably well. (Okay so maybe that second part wasn't in the actual job description, but you try and stand in front of a bunch of cheese for an hour, Mr. Willpower.) My boss was a good friend of mine which came in handy the day I asked her the Dumbest Question Ever.

(Me) "How come all your cheese is white?"

(Patient Boss) "Because milk is white."

Okay, it never entered my mind that orange cheese wasn't natural. I can't be the only person who never put that together, right?

RIGHT?

Which leads me to Knowledge Nugget #5:

Sometimes I'm just not that smart.

Bye-bye Doc Martins... I'll miss you.

Firstly, HAPPY BIRTHDAY NADIA!

(And a belated - but no less sincere - HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Kate and Keeley!)

I spent a lovely Sunday with Baldman and the Missus (that'd be an awesome name for a band) scarfing pancakes and talking smack. (Actually there was very little smack talk, but I'm sure Dan said something vaguely insulting at some point.) Man, I can murder a stack of buttermilks. When the waiter put the platter (!) down in front of me I was all like, "No, no! I couldn't possibly eat all of this!" (We all know where this is going, right? Which is why I'll be returning to Weight Watchers.)

After that I popped downtown to meet my friend Chintamani. We always end up on the Lower East Side at this coffeehouse/bar called the Lotus Club. It's all dark wood and indie rock and hipsters, which used to really get me off. I would spend hours fantasizing about being able to pull of stripey tights and a beret while sipping coffee out of a stained mug. Now all the laptop toting, faux bed-head having twenty-somethings seem... not like dumbasses, but not not like dumbasses. (Don't get me started on the creepy forty-somethings hanging around. Ick times ten, dude.) I'm sure they all have very interesting art exhibits and sex lives but I just don't find them compelling anymore. Which leads me to Knowledge Nugget #4:

I am too old for the East Village. Or anyplace where "hipsters" gather. (That includes you, college towns.)

I'm totally coining the term "salesgay"

Yesterday I ventured out to brave the hordes at the Paul Smith sample sale. Paul Smith, for those not acquainted with overpriced British designers, is an overpriced British designer. But he's an overpriced British designer who specializes in fun prints and I enjoy that kind of stuff, especially if I'm not paying full price. For me, it's all about the discount. I am constantly galled at what people are willing to pay for stuff. Case in point, the Paul Smith key chain above. Cute, right?

It retails for $110.

It was the last day of the sale so everything was pretty picked over, but I managed to score some deals largely due to the fact that everything was an additional 50% off and the workers were tired. I grabbed a pretty pale blue cashmere square and, thinking it was a scarf, tried my damndest to wrap it around my neck. Finally I grabbed a cute, well-dressed salesgay and asked him what it was.

"THAT is a travel blanket! You just gather it around your neck when it gets cold!"

I tried to recall the last time my neck got frostbite mid-flight but drew a blank. Clearly I come from hearty stock.

"Only $50!"

I sheepishly handed it back. The salesgay nodded sympathetically and whooshed off to straighten some flip-flops.

After much scrounging I managed to find a cute striped scarf, a green houndstooth Sherlock Holmes hat, a blue and white striped blouse, and some surprisingly cute etceteras. I spread them out and flagged down my favorite worker to ask the prices.

He sighed, tearing himself away from the cufflinks. "This blouse is from our Black Label. It was $220... I'll do $25."

I knew there was a reason I liked this man.

Next up, the houndstooth cap.

"Today all hats are $10."

I glanced at the $195 price tag still dangling from the side and gave God a silent shout-out.

Next he held up my tchochkies."If they try to charge you $10, tell them I said they were $2."

I wanted to marry this man.

Finally, he grabbed my scarf. Fingering it for a minute, he said, "This one's $20."

I eyeballed it for a second. It was cute and probably cost a Franklin at full price, but $20...

Sensing my hesitation, my fairy god-gay whispered, "I'll give it to you for $10. I so don't want to pack this stuff up."

SOLD!

The way I figure it, that's like a 95% savings. Which leads me to Knowledge Nugget #3:

I loves chatting up a gay sales clerk.

See "Knowledge Nugget #2"

At this gym today I noticed a sign for an upcoming blood drive. While I wholeheartedly support donations - organ, sperm, financial - I've always steered clear of the blood-giving kind. Heart surgery at an impressionable age left me with a bit of a needle thing, but after being diagnosed with a thyroid condition that requires monthly blood draws, my condition has gone from "PHOBIC-PHOBIC-PHOBIC!!!" (requiring Valium, baby needles, and significant amounts of hand-holding) to "general dislike" (still requiring significant amounts of hand-holding). That said, I actually considered doing it.

Why?

Free $5 Starbucks card.

Screw things like discomfort and fear! FREE STARBUCKS CARD!
($5 would almost cover the price of a soy chai latte, right?)

SPRING COME SOON

I saw the best thing yesterday. A man was carrying a hand-lettered sign that read:

"BE HAPPY! SPRING COME SOON!"

So perfect! So succinct! And very hard to argue with.

That said, it's pouring here which definitely puts a damper (har!) on the day, but it's Friday and who doesn't love a Friday. I love a Friday because it means that tomorrow at 10 am Housing Works Thrift Shop wheels out all their new stuff. And who's there, her face pressed against the window an hour before opening? (A number of old ladies and two coffee-sipping gay boys?) Yes and yes. Which leads me to...

KNOWLEDGE NUGGET #2: I will do anything for a bargain.

I'm still kicking myself for not grabbing the $80 Prada coat. So what if it didn't fit and was a weird shade of red? Small minded thinking! I'm telling you, the second it hits 60 degrees I'm pulling out that "maybe Marc Jacobs" jacket. (SPRING COME SOON?)

Today is March 1st which means it's the official start of Ali's Birthday Month! (And also Caffeine Awareness Month! Which doesn't actually deserve an exclaimation point but whatevs.) To celebrate, each day I'm going to list something I learned about myself during this past year.

Knowledge Nugget #1: If left to my own devices, I can and will eat an entire pan of No Pudge brownies in less than an hour.

Stay tuned for more insightfulness! This month is going to be awesome!