Brain Fail

I spent most of today cooking and baking.

Which means I was really making a hot mess in my kitchen.

And of myself.

After I was done, I opened the door to let some of the heat escape from my apartment.

Then I remembered something:

HOW DOES ONE FORGET THEY AREN'T WEARING ANY CLOTHES?

Someone please make sense of my brain for me.

Thank you.

I quickly closed the door after realizing my mistake.

And hoped the mechanics across the street didn't see anything.

Sigh.

Today's brain fail probably won't be my last.

Unfortunately.

Has this ever happened to you?

You're walking down the street, people are staring at you - men and women alike - and you wonder, What's going on?

A cute guy makes eye contact with you twice, once when he's across the street, then again when he passes you on the sidewalk.

More of this please!

In the Starbucks, you're offered a free drink from one barista, while the other one keeps looking at you from behind the espresso machine. You turn around just to make sure there's no one else behind you, and nope, you're the only one in this general direction.

But you take it, and go with it, because who turns down free drinks and eye contact with hotties?

You're like, Own it, Janice! Work it!

And bop along the rest of the evening with a spring in your step.

Then you get to a mirror and see this:

No exaggeration: That's a tumbleweed on my head.

Doh!

How did a tumbleweed manifest itself on my head?

Sigh.

Does this ever happen to you?

Yeah?

Okay, just checking.

Glad to know there are other people like me out in the world.

I have to say, I pull off an exceptional tumbleweed.

Let's pretend I meant to wear my hair like a fascinator.

It's like my hair is so fashion-forward, it styled itself.

Thanks, Hair.

At least I got a free drink out of it.

My Mama and I Review M. Wells Dinette

My mama and I at a wedding.

So, my mom found out today that I have a blog.

I took The Mama out for brunchner (breakfast, lunch, and dinner - my mama likes to multi-task and what better way to multi-task than to eat lots of food and pretend you're eating for 3 meals?) at M. Wells Dinette to celebrate Mother's Day and ended up showing her a food blog that I follow while we were waiting for our food. When we got home, I proceeded to show my mom other blogs that I read and it sort of came out that I also write a blog.

Now, my mom wants to post on my blog too. So, there might be future recipes from The Mama.

Lucky ducks, my mom is a really good cook!

I can't wait to share some of her specialties. Because that means I get to eat them. Ha.

My mom is also picky about restaurants.

It was a miracle that she liked M. Wells Dinette.

I think we may even go back.

Double shocker.

And, maybe check out M. Wells Steakhouse.

M. Wells Dinette is located in MoMA PS1 so the decor is fittingly, a schoolroom.

You're seated at communal tables that face the kitchen.
Photo: Jesse Winter | MoMA PS1

My mom and I ordered two starters and an entree to share.

Bloody Mary, Chilled Parisian Squash Soup,
Braised Lamb and Gnocchi.

Drink: Bloody Mary
Janice: It's good, spicy, but not the best Bloody Mary that I've ever had; I like my Bloody Mary's really spicy. It's sufficient though.
The Mama: It was good.

Starter: Chilled Parisian Squash Soup
Janice: Mmm, I loved this soup. I don't know anything about squash or if there is something called Parisian Squash or if the name just means it was a squash made in the Parisian style, but I was expecting it to be orange. I guess I'm used to squash = butternut squash in restaurants. So, it was a pleasant surprise when the soup came out and it was green. It was drizzled with some cream (I'm guessing) and a herbally, slightly garlicky (I'm guessing), green oil that I think was supposed to enhance the taste of squash. Whatever it was, it was damn good. I would slurp buckets of this soup. Really, I would slurp it from a bucket.
The Mama: It was good.


Starter: Braised Lamb and Gnocchi
Janice: I normally don't like lamb because it tastes gamey to me but this lamb was delicious. It was served with um, herb stuff, and purple flowers. ALL you need to know is that it was good enough to make a lamb-disliker eat it.
The Mama: The lamb was fantastic, it was the best dish.

Can you tell my mom's favorite dish was the lamb? She might've hogged the plate a little.

Hot Smoked Mackerel.

Entree: Hot Smoked Mackerel
Janice: This originally was supposed to be a salmon dish but they ran out of salmon so mackerel was substituted. I'm not a huge fan of fish but ate this all up. There were fried thingies, who doesn't like fried thingies? Fried thingies makes everything better.
The Mama: Where's the rest of the fish?

My mom thought the portion of mackerel was too small. She liked the dish but thought it wasn't worth the price.

Braised Lamb and Gnocchi = Happy Mama.

And there you have it, The Mama and Janice's very professional opinions about M. Wells Dinette.

Passwords

The other day, I tried to use my big computer at home but couldn't log on because I forgot what my password was.

How does one forget one's own computer password, you might ask?

Well, let me tell you.

Janice's memory = HUGE THUMBS DOWN.

Besides that pesky, annoying problem, I'd also been using my other, little computer for months, and guess what? If you don't use it, you lose it. Passwords included.

I had been favoring my little computer because it's the right size to be a lap-warmer while my big computer is bigger than my torso. Not so comfortable to sit down and cuddle with on the couch.

What do you mean you don't cuddle with your gadgets?

You're weird.

And that's how I found myself sitting at my desk, frantically going through all the passwords I could think of, hoping to hit the right one.

Is it the same as my Gmail password?

Or, is it my Twitter? (I know, I know, my Twitter looks like a duck. What can I say? Bad drawings.)

Maybe my bank password???

No dice.

It's a good thing my computer doesn't do that security thing where it locks me out for being dumb.

You don't want to know how many times I've done that with my online banking accounts...

Just when I was getting desperate, and wondering if I'd have to call some Geniuses to help me, I had a sudden attack of inspiration.

"Janice, you're really a 12-year-old boy."

"What kind of password would a 12-year-old boy use?"

And, that's when it hit me.

I typed my password into my computer.

And rejoiced.

POOP.

My password was POOP.

I have since changed my password.

To a password a 13-year-old would use.