Cro-nuts for Crumbnuts

How’s my week going?

Well, I almost drove into oncoming traffic while looking at a poster for cronuts in the Crumbs Cupcakes window, I’ve been commuting 45 minutes to work in a car with no A/C in 100 degree weather, and at one point, a Trader Joe’s cashier seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being. 

Overall, I find TJ’s employees to be way too prying and overly friendly. I appreciate them asking if I have a fun weekend planned, but they always take that next step too far and ask me what I’m doing. You have checked my ID and can see I’m a 24-year-old buying only $4 wine, egg whites, a quart of skim milk, and Ezekiel bread, so what do you think I’m doing? Eating an egg sandwich for dinner, drinking a glass of wine while listening to “Bad Girls” by MIA, then teetering around West Hollywood in cork wedges, desperately trying to make a human connection with a man I hope won’t slip a rohypnal into whatever variation of a gin and elderflower cocktail I’m drinking. Like, why bother asking?

Anyway, my cashier made some intense eye contact and asked if I was okay, then proceeded to tell me how I have “beautiful eyes, and do I get that a lot?, and I just think this world is just such a hard place and we should all be kinder to each other and compliment each other more.” Now, I could, could have launched into a feminist tirade about how he would never say that to a male customer, and why does he assume that my emotional well-being is tied to a strange man’s approval of my appearance, BUT. But. He meant well. I think he gave himself a pat on the back for probably saving me from turning on some Patsy Cline and Girl, Interrupting myself in a warm bath. And let him think that.

In reality, though, I just have something called a Resting Bitch Face, so people are constantly asking if I’m okay.

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Anyway, anyway. Crumbnuts. Probably the best part of my week? They’re just a cross between a donut and a croissant, though I will go out on a limb and say these particular cronut knock-offs are just a croissant shaped like a donut, filled with Bavarian creme. Still good, though I felt like a garbage can after I finished it. God did not intend for humans to eat cronuts. Or movie theatre nachos. Or Dominos stuffed cheesy bread. Yet here we are, and here we shall remain. Human trash compactors.

Sorry, does this sound like a suicide note?

If you’re interested in reading something that doesn’t sound like it was written in Winona Ryder’s journal circa 1992, you should check out Kasey’s Kitchen, a blog written by my coworker, without whom, those cronuts would not be possible. She had a bunch of Crumbs gift cards and a dream.

Also, formal apology to Kasey for including her in my bell-jar of a blog post.

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Why My Mom Shouldn’t Miss Me

So, I thought my mom was missing me when I saw this on her Facebook: Screen shot 2013-07-09 at 9.42.08 PM

{Her computer at work}

But it would appear that circumstances have not improved, as this is what her Facebook profile looks like now:

Screen shot 2013-07-09 at 9.40.35 PM

{Maybe blurring out her name was unnecessary… but, whatever, just don’t stalk my mom, okay?}

The profile picture is me at The Bluebird Cafe in Nashville, taken on our road trip to LA, and her cover photo is of us on St. Patrick’s Day 48 hours before we left for said road trip (I’d like to add that my hair is a particularly fuh-resh shade of brilliant, copper red right there. I always get the roots touched up before St. Patty’s because that is the one day of year when I. AM. QUEEN. Suddenly evvvverybody loves a red head on Irish Day. Where were you people the other 364? Spare me your Jessica Rabbit childhood anecdotes. It is too little too late, friend).

Now, Mom, I know it must be hard for your oldest child to move across the country, but I feel like I have to remind you that I wasn’t that great to live with, anyway. Sure, I’m fun to go to the mall with and I know how you like your white wine spritzers (half Sprite, half Ginger Ale with a floater of Pinot Greeg that after your first sip will be watered down with more Sprite and Ginger Ale, and garnished with a jar of maraschino cherries), but there are plenty of reasons why your life must be easier now that I’m out of the house, like:

  • I never move the coffee table back when I’m done my exercise videos. It’s kinda heavy and my Jillian Michael’s videos make my arms feelz like Jell-oz!
  • Related: I make you do exercise DVD’s while I drink a glass of wine and yell that you’re doing it wrong.
  • From the Desk of Lynne Sussman: photo-1-8
  • I don’t put the cap back on the toothpaste even when the cap is attached to the toothpaste.
  • The cereal bags always end up ripping straight down the middle when I try to open them.
  • You get mad at me for drinking from all the communal beverages in the fridge (I still don’t see the big deal).
  • You must be saving a fortune from all the 2 Buck Chuck and Greek yogurt you don’t have to buy.
  • No one’s trying to make you eat quinoa anymore.
  • “It’s your tone” -Lynne Sussman

and finally/apparently….

  • I “don’t know how [I] sound sometimes.”

See? I’m pretty much the worst.

Although, who will drive hours with you just to go on binge eating field trips?

IMG_0501We are literally the only people I know who will drive an hour to the beach just to eat and go back home! Oh, Mumsie, I miss you (though I don’t miss you coming into my room screaming at 6am because you can’t find the comb).

A Week Without Fruit, But Full of Freedom

Did everyone have a good 4th of July weekend?

This is what I did:

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Basically, I treated the last week as if it was my birthday where I celebrate for days by binge eating until food doesn’t taste good anymore.

Between yogurt and bagels I ate:

  • 1 hot dog
  • 1 burger
  • 1 quarter pounder with cheese (which is in a burger category all its own)
  • 1 slider (or like, half a burger?)
  • 2 Subway sammiches. Truthfully, it could have been 3.
  • 2 steak tacos from Del Taco
  • Fries on fries on fries.
  • and a kiddie sized Frosty for dipping.
  • Chips on dip on dip.
  • Two spicy chicken sandwiches in less than 24 hours, but one was from McDonald’s while the other was from Wendy’s, and those are two totally different experiences
  • and 2 fried cheesecake bites from the Del Taco drive thru that I couldn’t wait to eat, so I shoveled them into my gullet with one hand and steered into my garage with the other as I watched my trainer neighbor Nick run sprints shirtless on our sidewalk. I pawed sadly at the window and slowly drove passed him.

One day I shall introduce myself to him when my mouth isn’t full of fried saturated fats. But I don’t know when that day would realistically happen….

9b7253972be23487f722b94d9639fe7e-you-can-have-it-all-if-you-set-your-mind-to-it

LORDE- Royals

I found this music video on Jezebel.com this morning and I can’t stop listening to it while moving my shoulders in a suggestive manner as I obsessively refresh Twitter in my matching pajama set.

Lorde (Ella Yelich-O’Connor) is a 16 year-old girl from New Zealand, and, like, good for her or whatever, but I’m 24 and have a cool blog I do for free, so I guess she and Jackie Evancho aren’t the only child prodigies in this world. I have some other really impressive things happening for me, too. Yesterday, I figured out how to game the Chipotle system* and last week I invented putting an egg on my leftover steak burrito bowl for breakfast.

Am I gifted?

Listen, I’m just trying to live my life like any normal kid.

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*Order online, check off the “guacamole” option, then in the special instructions ask for it on the side. They will get confused and give you guac both on the bowl AND on the side, but only charge you for one. Remember not to jump off your roof, though, because when you pull this off, you’ll think you can fly.

What I’ve Done Today: Part II

Screen shot 2013-05-23 at 11.08.36 AMAt the end of every day, my roommate and I usually give each other a run down of how our day went. Yesterday, my roommate came home and found me at about 5 o’clock, sitting on the couch with the shades drawn and the TV on mute. I had a lot to fill her in on:

At noon I made a really strong and impassioned statement on defying racial stereotypes by spending $13 on a breakfast sandwich and coffee, proving once and for all that not every Jew is good with their money.

The day only got more productive from there:

At 2pm I came home, sat on the couch and thought about blogging. But just thinking about blogging wasn’t enough, so I put some of my resume skills to good use by being a self-starter and doing some expert multi-tasking.

So I….

Thought about blogging…

….and picked off my gel manicure.

Thought about blogging…

….and thought about exercising.

Thought about blogging…

….and picked at a scab on my chin.

Thought about blogging…

….and read my own blog.

This went on for about 4 hours until I finally got up to go to the bathroom and toyed with the idea of parting my hair in the center because #YOLO

Spoiler Alert!!! Decided against it.

Then I sat back on the couch and looked at the Facebook’s of people I went to high school with and got really smug about how they’re still stuck in our hometown, married with stupid children who ruin their lives and love them unconditionally, and they have their dumb, steady jobs, with no hope of EVER being famous. And it’s just so sad, ‘cuz like LOOK AT ME, I’m in LA. I saw Sean and Eric from Boy Meets World at a cafe once, I have an air mattress, my roommate and I are thinking about auditioning for The Amazing Race, like, it’s all happening.

………..

So after going through that one-woman show/suicide note with my roommate, she decided it was time to go see a burger about some feelings before I started thinking about getting bangs. 968784_4938956914874_1217821939_nIt worked! Look at those happy faces! We love LA, we love a burger, but most of all, we love each other. 

But seriously, how does everyone feel about me and bangs?

Road Trip to LA: Days 5, 6, & 7

At 6 am, my mother and I left our Amarillo hotel room in the same clothes we wore (and slept in) the day before. You can judge us, but we decided not to bother with bringing in our suitcase because the longer we stayed outside, the more opportunity some backwoods hillbilly had to murder us. Sorry, if you’re from Amarillo, and maybe it’s actually a lovely place to grow up, but all I’ve seen is one of your hookers, 3 of your Marriots, a Japanese steak house that looked suspiciously like a strip club, and the worst Whataburger I’ve ever been to.

photo-3One of my top three favorite foods is Whataburger’s honey butter chicken biscuit with extra honey butter. It’s been a few years since I’ve had one, and I looked forward to getting to Amarillo, solely for this treat (because what else is there to look forward to in Amarillo besides the relief of sweet death?) and it was such a disappointment. My chicken was dry and I’ll be DAMNED if that was extra honey butter. I give a rating of C- for the Whataburger on I 40 East, in case you were thinking of making a trip.

Then there was driving. Then there was Vegas. Thanks to a $20 bill slipped to the front desk lady at Caesar’s Palace, we were upgraded to a suite, which helped me develop my new definition of success: having a TV in the bathroom.
photo 1-2Then, I experienced my ideal Friday night, which is watching true crime shows on HLN, snuggled in high thread count sheets.
photo 2-2

On Day 6:

Happy hour hopping with my mom.

photo 4-1

We made a stop at the Palm’s Steakhouse. For a classy joint with some bomb-ass sliders, they have a pretty tacky decor situation. This covers their walls:

photo 4-3I imagine that people must pay to get their picture done and put on the wall, and I had to take a picture of this corner because it’s the saddest little corner in the universe. They must be some of the loneliest people in the world. Sure, Steve and Heather Kaplan have each other, but I bet they feel alone even when they share a bed, but I’d bet they haven’t slept in the same room in years. Have any of these people met their fathers? Has Sammy Wong ever felt the touch of a woman he didn’t pay for? Is Flash Man still alive or did he succumb to his opiate addiction years ago? I guess I’ll never know, but may God bless and keep these beautiful, lost souls.

Meanwhile…

photo 1-3Barbra Jo Batterman, my inspiration and role model, is having the time of her life! She is single and thriving!

photo 2-4In the casino, we stumbled upon Shania Twain’s costume for her “That Don’t Impress Me Much” video, and at that moment, life could only be more perfect if a living, breathing Connie Britton was in that outfit.

We saw “Peepshow” with Coco T, which marks the second time I’ve seen “Peepshow” (with Holly Madison), so my self esteem should be a lot lower than it is. All I’ll say about Coco is boobs, and also she is a national treasure and a delightful dancer/entertainer.

FINALLY, FINALLY:

Day 7:

We drove the last 4 hour leg to LA to my apartment…. excuse me, TOWNHOUSE, yes, TOWNHOUSE, which idk if you know, means that our bedrooms are UPSTAIRS, and we have a lemon tree next to our front door so we are living The California Dream. Basically, I’m living the California Dreams theme song music. *Surf dudes with attitudes.*

PS Big thanks to the best mom in the world, SUGALYN, for going on this trip and spending 16 hours a day in a car with me, and footing the bill. And dad for also footing the bill, and fitting all my stuff into a corolla.

The Parent Trap: Featuring Guy Fieri and Anne Burrell

Guy Fieri and Anne Burrell look like they’re playing the fraternal twins in a community theater production of Twelfth Night.

12thnightOn second thought, I’m pretty sure these two were born from the same sun burnt uterus behind a Jacksonville Hooters. Separated at birth, they reconnected at the Food Network when their eyes met across the toilet seat as they snorted cocaine and Philly cheese steaks.

Third thought, that picture is really just a composite of Nancy Grace’s twins using age progression software.

Happy Weekend

One of my mom’s co-workers went to Chicago for New Year’s or something and brought me back some Nuts on Clark Chicago Mix popcorn. The Chicago mix (caramel and cheese popcorn) from either Nuts on Clark, Garret’s Popcorn, or a 6 month old bag from the shelf of a CVS in Illinois is one of my top 5 favorite foods. You just can’t find this stuff in New England, and it’s like crack in the sense that it’s so addictive, but also not like crack in the sense that it’s not legitimately addictive or has the capability to ruin your life.

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When I went to Vegas last year, we had a layover in Chicago. I think we had about 20 minutes to get to our next gate, and I decided it was worth the risk to find the Garret’s popcorn kiosk that I knew existed in the airport somewhere. You’ve never seen anything more an endearing than my friend with a fresh Starbucks in her hand and me with my entire arm in a bag of popcorn while we waltzed on the completely full and seated plane like, “hey, guys, we can go now! Vegas, riiight?!” as we started pouring Bailey’s nips in our coffee before we managed to get our seatbelt on. You should have seen how cute I was, like, 10 seconds before when I couldn’t find my boarding pass and had to dump the contents of my orange and pink leopard print Betsey Johnson carry on. Don’t worry, I found it- just in the front pocket hiding behind some old Forever 21 receipts! Hollaaaa! Vegaaaas!

Anyway, it’s the freakin’ weekend and I’m about to go buck wild on some $3 happy hour nachos. Hope you are doing something equally glamorous. You’re only in your 20’s for 10 years, after all.

Sugarlyn Cakes

I have lived a very difficult life at the hands of my mother. Because of her, nearly every elementary school class birthday has been ruined for me. Since childhood, I have had an extremely refined palate for cakes due to her superior baking, which makes it impossible for me to enjoy grocery store baked goods or canned frostings, and I seemed to be the only 8 year old who knew that apple juice does not go with cake. Milk goes with cake, MILK! Who raised you, elementary school parents? Certainly not my mother.

On a weekly basis I had to politely eat the cupcakes and juice parents brought in for birthdays, wishing that like the other students, I was blissfully ignorant to the delicious cupcakes that existed in the world. Cupcakes that ruin you for all other cupcakes. The only solace I had was when my birthday rolled around and my mother could finally bring in her baked goods and MILK. We always killed it for my class birthday. In the fifth grade, I came up with the brilliant and totally unexpected plan to have a Hoodsie sundae bar. The best class birthdays always came from the chubby kids, and thanks to my size 16’s I was throwing milk-fused ragers.

I’ve always told my mother she should sell her cupcakes, and after winning the baking contest at the Fluff festival a few weeks ago, she finally decided to do it!

Introducing Sugarlyn Cakes!

 

{instagram: @daralaine}

So if you ever want to order some, let me know. For the drop-off, we can meet in a public, neutral location in case you’re using your cupcake order as an opportunity to murder me while enjoying delicious treats.

Fluff Festival in Somerville, MA

Can I interest you in a little light reading? Mostly pictures, nothing you have to think too hard about. A “FLUFF” piece, if you will?

On Saturday, I went to the Fluff* Festival in Somerville, MA (which is basically just Boston with a little bit more parking) with my saintly mother, Lynne. The hipsters and hipsters with children (apparently, their skinny jeans  have not cut off enough circulation to their genitalia to stop them from having children. Shame. Also, doesn’t Genitalia sound like something a hipster would name their kid?) were out in full force. We didn’t let that stop us, though. There was marshmallow creme product to be eaten, and we were all business.

The best of the food was the pumpkin fluff cannoli, which was essentially just a tube of fried dough. Another highlight was the coffee porter with fluff vodka and a Fluff floater, and the Shipyard Pumpkinhead with Vanilla Vodka and a Fluff floater. Both were delightful, and I can probably never drink or smell them again. 😦

{Follow me on Instagram: @daralaine}

But the best part of the day was when my mom won the baking contest with her pumpkin cupcakes with maple-Fluff cream cheese frosting!

I’m so proud!

*Does anyone reading this NOT know what Fluff is? I thought everyone did, but I think it’s just a New England thing, which means we are obnoxious about it. It’s marshmallow creme, made in Lynn, Mass… we use hot cocoa as a vessel for Fluff. Or we eat it by the spoonful. One time I made an eggo panini using two eggos, peanut butter, fluff, and a Mike Tyson grill. Is that an eating disorder? [Update: Mike Tyson doesn’t have a grill, it was a broken george foreman grill that didn’t heat up so I just smooshed the eggo’s together. Eating disorder?]