Me: What's the next biggest unit after a terabyte?
The agent: A pterodactylbyte.
Showing posts with label the agent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the agent. Show all posts
Friday, May 29, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Monday, April 06, 2009
Disparity
The agent: We could sing "The Luckiest". I'll have to transpose it down so that it's more in your range. We should write some harmonies for it. We'll be like Simon and Garfunkel! You can be Art...
Me: Yeah, I'll be Garfunkel and you'll be talented.
Me: Yeah, I'll be Garfunkel and you'll be talented.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Wisdom Of The Agent
Me (trying to open the door before it was unlocked): Oops. I was premature.
The agent: You're not mature at all.
The agent: You're not mature at all.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
'Cause Amberance Is Your Lady
H-town: ok, my ipod is calling me super homo gay
it played that lady in red song, and now it's playing air supply
me: I tried to play some Air Supply for [the agent], I think he had to concentrate really hard not to punch me in the face
it played that lady in red song, and now it's playing air supply
me: I tried to play some Air Supply for [the agent], I think he had to concentrate really hard not to punch me in the face
Friday, January 09, 2009
Amberance: Insufferable Know-It-All
Watching the Blackhawks game, in which someone has just been punched in the face
The agent: Oh my god! Look how much he's bleeding!
me: I'm sure it looks worse than it is. The face has a lot of capillaries, so it tends to bl-
The agent: Shut up, nerd.
The agent: Oh my god! Look how much he's bleeding!
me: I'm sure it looks worse than it is. The face has a lot of capillaries, so it tends to bl-
The agent: Shut up, nerd.
Monday, January 05, 2009
The Perils of Dating
The agent: What's that Prince song? Little Pink Cadillac?
Me: (silent, horrified stare)
The agent: Wait, no. It's Little Red Corvette, right?
Me: Oh my god.
Me: (silent, horrified stare)
The agent: Wait, no. It's Little Red Corvette, right?
Me: Oh my god.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Amberance: Bossy
There is a right way and a wrong way to string lights on a Christmas tree, which is why I don't ever let anyone else touch the lights for the trees except for my father, who taught me in the first place*. So, I was very confused on Sunday when putting up the agent's tree. I had four strings of neatly wrapped lights, and one string of inexplicably tangled completely disorganized lights. "I can't figure out how this happened," I told the agent. "Why would I have done this? And with just one string of lights?"
"Maybe I was trying to help you or something," he said, "and you made me stop because you thought I was doing it wrong."
I considered this. "Maybe, but I think even then I would have taken it away from you and bossily redid it the way I wanted it in the first place."
*This came about in high school when I decided that a 10 foot tree in the family room and an 8 foot tree in the living room was not nearly enough trees, and that we clearly needed another 8 foot tree in my bedroom, to which my father responded "Do it yourself. There's no way I'm putting lights on another damn tree."
"Maybe I was trying to help you or something," he said, "and you made me stop because you thought I was doing it wrong."
I considered this. "Maybe, but I think even then I would have taken it away from you and bossily redid it the way I wanted it in the first place."
*This came about in high school when I decided that a 10 foot tree in the family room and an 8 foot tree in the living room was not nearly enough trees, and that we clearly needed another 8 foot tree in my bedroom, to which my father responded "Do it yourself. There's no way I'm putting lights on another damn tree."
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Observations at a Calexico Show
- The opening band had two people on drums. It was still quieter than most bands with one drummer.
- The lead singer of the opening band played bass on one song...with a capo. Bonus points for the agent coincidentally musing only minutes before, "Wouldn't it be hilarious to see someone using a capo on a bass?"
- An Amazon couple. The giant man had an Adam's Apple that was so big it looked like a foot was coming out of his neck. The giant woman had salami scented B.O. We stared at their backs for a good portion of the concert.
- Mutton chops.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Backdating Because I Have The Lazy
The agent and I have invented a hypothetical game called "Cannibal Race". It's hypothetical because to play it correctly you would have to actually be a cannibal. The agent and I are not cannibals, so we can only pretend. The rules are pretty simple: two people bite huge chunks out of each others flesh. Last one to die wins. It's a hollow victory though, because the person who lost has eaten huge chunks of your flesh and you're going to die soon yourself, either from the blood loss or an infection. But you still won, so you'll have that going for you.
I told you that disturbing story to tell you this one:
IF you are not an actual cannibal, AND you are only playing Cannibal Race for pretend, DO NOT attempt to start the game by eating each others faces. This can only end in a bloody lip and loose teeth. Per the agent, while holding a tissue against his bleeding mouth, "Let's never play this again."
I told you that disturbing story to tell you this one:
IF you are not an actual cannibal, AND you are only playing Cannibal Race for pretend, DO NOT attempt to start the game by eating each others faces. This can only end in a bloody lip and loose teeth. Per the agent, while holding a tissue against his bleeding mouth, "Let's never play this again."
Monday, November 10, 2008
Shameless Promotion
If you live in Chicago and you have nothing to do this Sunday night, I'd like to suggest that you head over to The Elbo Room where the agent will be playing. He sings pretty and is very attractive, assuming you like men. If not, he still sings pretty. You can also meet me! I'll be the girl sitting at the merch table handing out CDs and pretending to enjoy socializing with strangers.
The show starts at 8:30 and is $7. Tell them you came to see Aaron Fox (they won't know who you're talking about if you tell them you came to see amberance).
The show starts at 8:30 and is $7. Tell them you came to see Aaron Fox (they won't know who you're talking about if you tell them you came to see amberance).
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Well Now They're Just Messing With Me
The last two nights in a row as I was getting ready for bed, I inadvertently started reflecting on the large lack of spiders in my house this fall. Usually that's when they seem to be lurking in every corner ready to suck my blood and feed me to their young whilst simultaneously escaping from the cold. But so far in the whole of this fall I've seen only one spider in my house, and that one was tiny and crawled out only because I was cleaning and I broke it's house. It was even tiny enough for me to kill it myself* by stepping on it (though I ground my shoe into the carpet for about five minutes as I was sure he was lurking in my shoe treads waiting for me to assume his demise so he could come out and crawl up my pant leg and GET ON ME).
I immediately tried to banish these thoughts from my mind. Spiders have the power of telepathy you see, so thinking about them not being around was just inviting an attack. At the very least it was tempting fate. I got my thoughts under control and went to bed feeling safe.
Well.
Waking up this morning and turning on the light, I immediately noticed a fuzzy looking spot on my ceiling over the bed. That spot was moving. Over the years I have developed the ability to immediately detect the motion of small objects in the vicinity of the ceiling or in corners of rooms. This motion is usually that of a spider and my enhanced abilities serve to give me more time to escape from their onslaught or avoid being ambushed. And without my glasses on the moving spot looked enormous. Certain that I had called this disaster upon myself, I lay there in mild terror waiting for it to move from being directly over the bed and praying it would not fall. I began mentally rearranging my morning schedule: I wouldn't be able to make the bed today, as I'd have to turn my back on it, and I would also have to gather everything I would need from my room before I got into the shower and bring it with me, including my coat, gloves, iPod, cell phone and shoes in addition to my clothes. Thus having finished organizing my crazy, I put on my glasses only to discover...
...one of those annoying fake ladybugs. You know, the beetles that look like a ladybug but are yellow or light orange and they bite and also fly directly at you kamikaze style? One of those. Little douche.
Initially I was relieved, but later two disturbing thoughts came to me.
1) Are the ladybug impersonators in bed with the spiders now? Did they sign a secret treaty? Have they decided "the enemy of my enemy is my friend"?
2) If they have not formed an evil alliance, will the presence of a tasty (less wily/ easier to digest/ etc.) beetle bring the spiders that heretofore haven't come? Am I doomed by association, or perhaps just proximity?
Stay tuned.
*Later that day, when the agent came to pick me up I greeted him with this: "You are going to be so proud of me and disappointed in me at the same time." Because as a boyfriend he finds my terror of spiders quite tedious and annoying, not to mention ridiculous. So handling one myself is a huge step. But as a practitioner of Buddhism, you really ought not to kill things, so celebrating the death of another living creature is generally not typical of him. He was by the way. Proud and disappointed.
I immediately tried to banish these thoughts from my mind. Spiders have the power of telepathy you see, so thinking about them not being around was just inviting an attack. At the very least it was tempting fate. I got my thoughts under control and went to bed feeling safe.
Well.
Waking up this morning and turning on the light, I immediately noticed a fuzzy looking spot on my ceiling over the bed. That spot was moving. Over the years I have developed the ability to immediately detect the motion of small objects in the vicinity of the ceiling or in corners of rooms. This motion is usually that of a spider and my enhanced abilities serve to give me more time to escape from their onslaught or avoid being ambushed. And without my glasses on the moving spot looked enormous. Certain that I had called this disaster upon myself, I lay there in mild terror waiting for it to move from being directly over the bed and praying it would not fall. I began mentally rearranging my morning schedule: I wouldn't be able to make the bed today, as I'd have to turn my back on it, and I would also have to gather everything I would need from my room before I got into the shower and bring it with me, including my coat, gloves, iPod, cell phone and shoes in addition to my clothes. Thus having finished organizing my crazy, I put on my glasses only to discover...
...one of those annoying fake ladybugs. You know, the beetles that look like a ladybug but are yellow or light orange and they bite and also fly directly at you kamikaze style? One of those. Little douche.
Initially I was relieved, but later two disturbing thoughts came to me.
1) Are the ladybug impersonators in bed with the spiders now? Did they sign a secret treaty? Have they decided "the enemy of my enemy is my friend"?
2) If they have not formed an evil alliance, will the presence of a tasty (less wily/ easier to digest/ etc.) beetle bring the spiders that heretofore haven't come? Am I doomed by association, or perhaps just proximity?
Stay tuned.
*Later that day, when the agent came to pick me up I greeted him with this: "You are going to be so proud of me and disappointed in me at the same time." Because as a boyfriend he finds my terror of spiders quite tedious and annoying, not to mention ridiculous. So handling one myself is a huge step. But as a practitioner of Buddhism, you really ought not to kill things, so celebrating the death of another living creature is generally not typical of him. He was by the way. Proud and disappointed.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
But Is It a Brick House?
"Hey, remember Romper Room?"
"Remember what? No," replied the agent. We were having this discussion over a delicious dinner at The Pasta Bowl. The agent had eaten a hole through the middle of his bread and then held it up to his eye and looked at me through it (we're both 5). Clearly (to me anyway) it was exactly like the magic mirror.
"Holy crap, how do you not remember Romper Room?" I asked, grabbing his bread hole to use in my demonstration. "It was this show. It was on when we were little kids, where there was a host lady and a bunch of kids and some puppets and they would do stuff." (I give excellent descriptions.) "Then at the end of the show the lady would hold up the magic mirror and say 'Romper bomper stomper boo. Tell me, tell me, tell me do...Did all my friends have fun at play?' and then the mirror would turn into a hole that she looked through and she would name all the children she saw." Here I used the bread prop and held it up to my own face. "OOO! I see Aaron and cook guy and waiter..."
"O.K., put the bread down," said the agent. (For some reason he finds me embarrassing.) "I don't remember that at all."
"How can you possibly NOT remember that? It was on, like, all the time!"
"Because my brain doesn't work like yours!" he answered. "I don't collect and remember every single thing that has ever happened to me. My brain cleans house. My brain gets rid of stuff it doesn't need. Your brain just keeps filling up with more and more things."
This is entirely true. My head is filled with things that make no difference and that will never be useful or have an effect on my overall life or anyone else's in any way. If you live in Chicago and have ever been in the store Uncle Fun's, that is about the closest experience you will ever have to being on the inside of my head. A random sampling, in no particular order of some of the crap stored up there:
"Yeah, your brain is much more cluttered than mine."
"My brain is like, 'Oh hey, come on in! Yeah just climb over that pile there. Would you like a cup of tea? I'll make you some if I can find it. And while we're waiting, let me tell you about the whole history of tea and why anti-oxidants are important.'"
Also, it has a lot of cats.
"Remember what? No," replied the agent. We were having this discussion over a delicious dinner at The Pasta Bowl. The agent had eaten a hole through the middle of his bread and then held it up to his eye and looked at me through it (we're both 5). Clearly (to me anyway) it was exactly like the magic mirror.
"Holy crap, how do you not remember Romper Room?" I asked, grabbing his bread hole to use in my demonstration. "It was this show. It was on when we were little kids, where there was a host lady and a bunch of kids and some puppets and they would do stuff." (I give excellent descriptions.) "Then at the end of the show the lady would hold up the magic mirror and say 'Romper bomper stomper boo. Tell me, tell me, tell me do...Did all my friends have fun at play?' and then the mirror would turn into a hole that she looked through and she would name all the children she saw." Here I used the bread prop and held it up to my own face. "OOO! I see Aaron and cook guy and waiter..."
"O.K., put the bread down," said the agent. (For some reason he finds me embarrassing.) "I don't remember that at all."
"How can you possibly NOT remember that? It was on, like, all the time!"
"Because my brain doesn't work like yours!" he answered. "I don't collect and remember every single thing that has ever happened to me. My brain cleans house. My brain gets rid of stuff it doesn't need. Your brain just keeps filling up with more and more things."
This is entirely true. My head is filled with things that make no difference and that will never be useful or have an effect on my overall life or anyone else's in any way. If you live in Chicago and have ever been in the store Uncle Fun's, that is about the closest experience you will ever have to being on the inside of my head. A random sampling, in no particular order of some of the crap stored up there:
- An Orca Whale's coloring pattern is a form of camouflage. When you are looking down on it, the dark back blends in with the dark water below. When you're looking up at it, the white belly blends in with the lighter water closer to the surface.
- M & Ms candy did not contain red m&ms when I was a kid (another thing the agent doesn't remember). They were eliminated when the FDA began to suspect that Red Dye No. 2 was a carcinogen.
- Ty Cobb's lifetime batting average was .367. (Also he was kind of a dick.)
- The name for the agent's having two colors in each iris (a brown ring inside of a green-grey/hazel ring) is central heterochromia.
"Yeah, your brain is much more cluttered than mine."
"My brain is like, 'Oh hey, come on in! Yeah just climb over that pile there. Would you like a cup of tea? I'll make you some if I can find it. And while we're waiting, let me tell you about the whole history of tea and why anti-oxidants are important.'"
Also, it has a lot of cats.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Mixed Reactions
I've had a number of differing responses to my post about how I fear marriage.
BrownsFan, proponent of marriage and 20 year veteran of same is continually dismayed by my opinion. Upon reading the post, she looked at me sadly and argued, "Yeah, but it's a nice Death Star."
MrSteve was a bit more supportive and also a bit more true to Star Wars canon (because seriously, a nice Death Star?), sending along this lovely motivational poster:
The agent and I discussed the post and the reaction of BrownsFan over coffee. He said something funny which I did not write down and promptly forgot. When I called him this morning to find out what he had said, he didn't even remember having the conversation, thus proving that in fact we are pretty much already married as we clearly do not bother to listen to each other anymore.
BrownsFan, proponent of marriage and 20 year veteran of same is continually dismayed by my opinion. Upon reading the post, she looked at me sadly and argued, "Yeah, but it's a nice Death Star."
MrSteve was a bit more supportive and also a bit more true to Star Wars canon (because seriously, a nice Death Star?), sending along this lovely motivational poster:
The agent and I discussed the post and the reaction of BrownsFan over coffee. He said something funny which I did not write down and promptly forgot. When I called him this morning to find out what he had said, he didn't even remember having the conversation, thus proving that in fact we are pretty much already married as we clearly do not bother to listen to each other anymore.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Amberance: Good at Star Wars, Bad at Relationships
H-town: how's the agent? is he as dreamy as ever?
me: pretty good. except for that part where he thinks he wants to marry me. yeah
H-town: oooh COMMITMENT!! echo*echo*echo
me: no one can marry me! i am not marriable
H-town: oh, you are certainly long-term relationship/commonlaw marriage/regular marriage/gay marriage - able
me: i am none of those! i am the textbook committment phobe
H-town: aw, man i like the agent!
me: i know, i suck.
H-town: and there's no way you'll ever become into commitment, huh?
me: not that i'm aware of. i think i can and then when the moment comes i panic and run
me: with the words of admiral ackbar running through my head. "It's a trap!"
H-town: haha
me: marriage is a secretly fully armed and operational Death Star
me: pretty good. except for that part where he thinks he wants to marry me. yeah
H-town: oooh COMMITMENT!! echo*echo*echo
me: no one can marry me! i am not marriable
H-town: oh, you are certainly long-term relationship/commonlaw marriage/regular marriage/gay marriage - able
me: i am none of those! i am the textbook committment phobe
H-town: aw, man i like the agent!
me: i know, i suck.
H-town: and there's no way you'll ever become into commitment, huh?
me: not that i'm aware of. i think i can and then when the moment comes i panic and run
me: with the words of admiral ackbar running through my head. "It's a trap!"
H-town: haha
me: marriage is a secretly fully armed and operational Death Star
Monday, August 11, 2008
Airport Entertainment - Boobs
waiting to board a flight at O'Hare
Me: Want to play "I Spy"?
The agent: Ok.
Me: Can I go first?
The agent: Yes.
Me. Ok. I spy giant cans.
The agent: You can't do that!
Me: What?
The agent: You just told me the answer!
Me: No, you tell me what color they are. I spy giant cans.
The agent: Are they in a green shirt?
Me: Yes!
Me: Want to play "I Spy"?
The agent: Ok.
Me: Can I go first?
The agent: Yes.
Me. Ok. I spy giant cans.
The agent: You can't do that!
Me: What?
The agent: You just told me the answer!
Me: No, you tell me what color they are. I spy giant cans.
The agent: Are they in a green shirt?
Me: Yes!
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Levity
Not funny: Learning that your beloved kitty is in kidney failure. Also: stabbing her with a needle every day to administer vital fluids that are keeping her alive.
Funny: The process of explaining this to your boyfriend.
Me: I have to give her subcutaneous injections every day.
The agent: What?
Me: Subcutaneous. It means under the skin.
The agent. Under the what?
Me: Skin.
The agent: Oh! I thought you said "ceiling".
Me: No. Cats don't have ceilings.
Funny: The process of explaining this to your boyfriend.
Me: I have to give her subcutaneous injections every day.
The agent: What?
Me: Subcutaneous. It means under the skin.
The agent. Under the what?
Me: Skin.
The agent: Oh! I thought you said "ceiling".
Me: No. Cats don't have ceilings.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Should Have Called It Leningrad
Following a conversation about Billy Joel's "Vienna"
Me (trying to be romantic): I want to go to Vienna with you.
The agent: For the crossroads?
Me: Yes. And I want to go to Amsterdam with you.
The agent: Oh yeah?
Me: Yeah. And I want to go to Venice with you. And I want to go to Paris with you. And I want to go to St. Petersberg with you.
The agent: Ooo! For Spring Training?
Me (trying to be romantic): I want to go to Vienna with you.
The agent: For the crossroads?
Me: Yes. And I want to go to Amsterdam with you.
The agent: Oh yeah?
Me: Yeah. And I want to go to Venice with you. And I want to go to Paris with you. And I want to go to St. Petersberg with you.
The agent: Ooo! For Spring Training?
Thursday, June 19, 2008
A.D.D. Storytime (or Amberance Would Make a Crappy Mother)
I like bedtime stories. A lot. And I have a habit of asking for them from the agent and occasionally the bartender. This never goes over well, I suspect because I am 30 years old.
"Tell me a story," I demanded of the agent Saturday night. "Tell me the three little pigs." He balked at this.
"I don't want to. You tell a story."
I didn't want to tell a story either. I wanted to be told a story. So to teach him a lesson I told the three little pigs. Badly. "Once there were three pigs and a wolf wanted to eat them. So he knocked over the first pig's house and they ran away. Then he knocked over the second house and they ran away. Then he tried to knock over the third house but it didn't fall down, so the pigs were safe. The end."
This turned out far less annoying than I had planned. He actually thought this was hilarious and made me tell more abbreviated stories.
Cinderella
Cinderella was a girl that lived with her step family. Her stepmother and stepsisters hated her. One day she wanted to go to a ball, but her stepmother wouldn't let her. She went anyway, but when she left her shoe fell off. The prince found it and married her. The end.
The Godfather
The Godfather is about a guy named Michael who is born into an Italian crime family, but doesn't want to join the family business. Later someone shoots his dad, so he joins the family business anyway and becomes a bad person. The end.
Humpty Dumpty
Humpty Dumpty was an egg. He fell off the wall he was sitting on and broke. No one knew how to fix him. The end.
The Incredible Hulk
The Incredible Hulk is about a scientist named Bruce Banner who gets radiation poisoning. When he gets mad he grows huge, turns green and breaks stuff. The end.
The Little Mermaid
A mermaid goes to a witch and trades her voice in for legs, but the man she loves really likes her voice. Latter she gets her voice back and they live happily ever after. The end.
Hansel and Gretel
Hansel and Gretel are a brother and sister that go wandering in the woods until they find a candy house. When they go inside there is a witch and she eats them. The end.
Death of a Salesman
A salesman dies. The end.
"Tell me a story," I demanded of the agent Saturday night. "Tell me the three little pigs." He balked at this.
"I don't want to. You tell a story."
I didn't want to tell a story either. I wanted to be told a story. So to teach him a lesson I told the three little pigs. Badly. "Once there were three pigs and a wolf wanted to eat them. So he knocked over the first pig's house and they ran away. Then he knocked over the second house and they ran away. Then he tried to knock over the third house but it didn't fall down, so the pigs were safe. The end."
This turned out far less annoying than I had planned. He actually thought this was hilarious and made me tell more abbreviated stories.
Cinderella
Cinderella was a girl that lived with her step family. Her stepmother and stepsisters hated her. One day she wanted to go to a ball, but her stepmother wouldn't let her. She went anyway, but when she left her shoe fell off. The prince found it and married her. The end.
The Godfather
The Godfather is about a guy named Michael who is born into an Italian crime family, but doesn't want to join the family business. Later someone shoots his dad, so he joins the family business anyway and becomes a bad person. The end.
Humpty Dumpty
Humpty Dumpty was an egg. He fell off the wall he was sitting on and broke. No one knew how to fix him. The end.
The Incredible Hulk
The Incredible Hulk is about a scientist named Bruce Banner who gets radiation poisoning. When he gets mad he grows huge, turns green and breaks stuff. The end.
The Little Mermaid
A mermaid goes to a witch and trades her voice in for legs, but the man she loves really likes her voice. Latter she gets her voice back and they live happily ever after. The end.
Hansel and Gretel
Hansel and Gretel are a brother and sister that go wandering in the woods until they find a candy house. When they go inside there is a witch and she eats them. The end.
Death of a Salesman
A salesman dies. The end.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
The Tiramisu Story
Of the whole anniversary dinner, the highlight was always meant to be the tiramisu. I knew I was making tiramisu before anything else because it is the agent's favorite dessert. I also knew that I wanted to use a specific recipe of a friend of his because he had said it was the best tiramisu ever.
I did not have his friend's phone number and I couldn't ask for it without arousing suspicion. Fortunately for me, she does have a MySpace page. Unfortunately for me, she does not allow messages from people who are not her MySpace friends. So I sent her a friend request and hoped she would would get it in time for the dinner. And luckily she did, so I got the recipe in plenty of time. She also sent notes about the specific coffee and rum she used, so problem #1 solved.
Tiramisu requires one to brew coffee. As neither the bartender nor I are coffee drinkers, I do not own a coffee maker or a coffee grinder. On top of this, the coffee his friend used to make this was espresso from Intelligentsia. Intelligentsia is the agent's favorite coffee and the only one I know is right next door to where he works. He is therefore there all the time. So first I had to get into Intelligentsia undetected somehow, and then I had to get some coffee. My options were to buy beans and then grind them and brew it at home which would require buying a coffee maker AND a coffee grinder, or order it already brewed. I needed almost two cups of coffee, and with espresso being sold an ounce or two at a time, I would have had to order a dozen or so. This seemed excessive to me in both time and expense, so in the end I decided to buy the equipment to brew it myself, figuring I can use it for holidays or something. So then all I had to do was figure out how to get to the beans.
How to get the beans was what I was pondering as I wandered around Whole Foods getting other items and talking to a stranger about what sort of wine to buy. In so doing I wandered right into a display of...bags of Intelligentsia coffee beans! And what do you know, they even had the espresso. I was gleeful as I put the beans into my basket. I had been on the verge of deciding to try to sneak into the coffee shop on Friday afternoon and now I didn't have to. Hooray! More time to prepare. Or so I thought.
Tiramisu also requires the purchase of lady fingers (of which I am not actually aware of any other use). I did not find them at Whole Foods like I thought I would. No matter, I figured I would get them at Jewel.
Except Jewel didn't have them.
Trader Joe's didn't either.
Fuck.
On Friday morning I raced to work in a panic and explained to BrownsFan that I needed to find lady fingers. I CANNOT MAKE TIRAMISU WITHOUT LADY FINGERS. I needed to find an Italian grocery, figure out how to get to it, go there and then get home to make the tiramisu before the agent got to my house for Friday night dinner (tiramisu needs to set overnight). Luckily for me, BrownsFan is a Googling master. Instead of finding me an Italian specialty store, she found me a forum in which people were discussing their trouble with finding lady fingers, to which someone had posted "You can get them at World Market". This was great news as I knew where to find a World Market and what the procedure would be when I got there. What I could not be sure of was whether they had them in stock. So I did the unthinkable: I called the store on the phone and spoke to someone. Unbelievable, I know right? Hey, I was desperate at that point. The conversation went like this:
Me: PLEASE tell me you sell lady fingers.
World Market lady: Yes, we sell them.
Me: PLEASE tell me you have some in stock, like, RIGHT NOW.
World Market lady: (laughing, I can only presume at me) We do. Would you like me to set some aside for you.
Me: Holy crap, yes. I'll be there in an hour.
W-O-R-L-D-M-A-R-K-E-T spells relief.
So now I had everything I needed and I'm at home. It was 2:00. The first step was to brew the coffee, but now I had another problem. Coffee makes the whole house smell, the agent would be over for dinner at 7:00 and he knows that the bartender and I don't drink coffee. I attempted to solve this problem in the obvious way: by brewing the coffee on the floor of my bedroom with the door shut to keep as much coffee smell out of the house as possible. For the most part that worked, but being totally paranoid, I ran around the house opening windows and turning on fans, all the while concocting a story to explain what the big baking dish covered in foil in the refrigerator was in case I was asked (the bartender was making lasagna for...work...and we were not supposed to touch it on pain of death).
With all of that done, I finally sat down to watch some tv for a while, but my phone rang immediately. It was the agent telling me he was done with work early so he was coming over right now! This sent me running outside so I could come back in and see if the house still smelled like coffee.
The next day, when I went over to prepare thesurprise dinner, I took the coffee beans with me because I certainly had no other use for them and they had a much better chance of being used by the agent, a known coffee fiend. What I didn't plan for was the agent to be there while I was cooking, so I was unprepared when he looked in the cabinet and said "Oh, you bought more coffee!" Fearing he would see it was espresso and guess what I had made for dessert, I turned the bag around with the label facing in, hoping he wouldn't look at it.
At dessert time I unthinkingly told the agent he should brew some coffee. "The coffee you brought over, right?" he asked. No!
Me: No!
The agent: No?
Me: No. Brew your own coffee.
The agent: So you don't want me to brew the coffee you brought?
Me: No.
The agent: But then why did you buy coffee?
Me: STOP ASKING QUESTIONS! Just brew your own coffee.
In light of the messed up dinner surprise, he did stop asking questions and brewed his own coffee, which we drank with the tiramisu while I regaled him with my very first telling of The Tiramisu Story, and which, after reading this long long post, I have realized I tell much better live, but it is what it is.
(The tiramisu was good. Especially for breakfast.)
I did not have his friend's phone number and I couldn't ask for it without arousing suspicion. Fortunately for me, she does have a MySpace page. Unfortunately for me, she does not allow messages from people who are not her MySpace friends. So I sent her a friend request and hoped she would would get it in time for the dinner. And luckily she did, so I got the recipe in plenty of time. She also sent notes about the specific coffee and rum she used, so problem #1 solved.
Tiramisu requires one to brew coffee. As neither the bartender nor I are coffee drinkers, I do not own a coffee maker or a coffee grinder. On top of this, the coffee his friend used to make this was espresso from Intelligentsia. Intelligentsia is the agent's favorite coffee and the only one I know is right next door to where he works. He is therefore there all the time. So first I had to get into Intelligentsia undetected somehow, and then I had to get some coffee. My options were to buy beans and then grind them and brew it at home which would require buying a coffee maker AND a coffee grinder, or order it already brewed. I needed almost two cups of coffee, and with espresso being sold an ounce or two at a time, I would have had to order a dozen or so. This seemed excessive to me in both time and expense, so in the end I decided to buy the equipment to brew it myself, figuring I can use it for holidays or something. So then all I had to do was figure out how to get to the beans.
How to get the beans was what I was pondering as I wandered around Whole Foods getting other items and talking to a stranger about what sort of wine to buy. In so doing I wandered right into a display of...bags of Intelligentsia coffee beans! And what do you know, they even had the espresso. I was gleeful as I put the beans into my basket. I had been on the verge of deciding to try to sneak into the coffee shop on Friday afternoon and now I didn't have to. Hooray! More time to prepare. Or so I thought.
Tiramisu also requires the purchase of lady fingers (of which I am not actually aware of any other use). I did not find them at Whole Foods like I thought I would. No matter, I figured I would get them at Jewel.
Except Jewel didn't have them.
Trader Joe's didn't either.
Fuck.
On Friday morning I raced to work in a panic and explained to BrownsFan that I needed to find lady fingers. I CANNOT MAKE TIRAMISU WITHOUT LADY FINGERS. I needed to find an Italian grocery, figure out how to get to it, go there and then get home to make the tiramisu before the agent got to my house for Friday night dinner (tiramisu needs to set overnight). Luckily for me, BrownsFan is a Googling master. Instead of finding me an Italian specialty store, she found me a forum in which people were discussing their trouble with finding lady fingers, to which someone had posted "You can get them at World Market". This was great news as I knew where to find a World Market and what the procedure would be when I got there. What I could not be sure of was whether they had them in stock. So I did the unthinkable: I called the store on the phone and spoke to someone. Unbelievable, I know right? Hey, I was desperate at that point. The conversation went like this:
Me: PLEASE tell me you sell lady fingers.
World Market lady: Yes, we sell them.
Me: PLEASE tell me you have some in stock, like, RIGHT NOW.
World Market lady: (laughing, I can only presume at me) We do. Would you like me to set some aside for you.
Me: Holy crap, yes. I'll be there in an hour.
W-O-R-L-D-M-A-R-K-E-T spells relief.
So now I had everything I needed and I'm at home. It was 2:00. The first step was to brew the coffee, but now I had another problem. Coffee makes the whole house smell, the agent would be over for dinner at 7:00 and he knows that the bartender and I don't drink coffee. I attempted to solve this problem in the obvious way: by brewing the coffee on the floor of my bedroom with the door shut to keep as much coffee smell out of the house as possible. For the most part that worked, but being totally paranoid, I ran around the house opening windows and turning on fans, all the while concocting a story to explain what the big baking dish covered in foil in the refrigerator was in case I was asked (the bartender was making lasagna for...work...and we were not supposed to touch it on pain of death).
With all of that done, I finally sat down to watch some tv for a while, but my phone rang immediately. It was the agent telling me he was done with work early so he was coming over right now! This sent me running outside so I could come back in and see if the house still smelled like coffee.
The next day, when I went over to prepare the
At dessert time I unthinkingly told the agent he should brew some coffee. "The coffee you brought over, right?" he asked. No!
Me: No!
The agent: No?
Me: No. Brew your own coffee.
The agent: So you don't want me to brew the coffee you brought?
Me: No.
The agent: But then why did you buy coffee?
Me: STOP ASKING QUESTIONS! Just brew your own coffee.
In light of the messed up dinner surprise, he did stop asking questions and brewed his own coffee, which we drank with the tiramisu while I regaled him with my very first telling of The Tiramisu Story, and which, after reading this long long post, I have realized I tell much better live, but it is what it is.
(The tiramisu was good. Especially for breakfast.)
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