Deluded Mama, Part II

If you are a regular reader of my blog, you'll know that my mama has delusions about how much she cooks.

A couple of Sundays ago, my mom and I had this conversation:

[TBT] Hippo gets a visitor

It's been a really busy week for me this week and I haven't had any time to draw or post recipes.

Sigh.

I can't believe I broke my streak of posting regularly!

Makes me sad.

So, here's a quickie from the Monkey Whimsy archives for Throwback Thursday.

Hopefully, I'll be able to work on some posts this weekend and be a real blogger.

If you guys read my first TBT post, then you're familiar with Hippo. Today's post is the second part of Hippo's Photo Story.

Hippo started out as a thank you to a friend but it turned into something so much more.

I started receiving emails and comments from people, telling me that I should be a children's book author. Little did they know that that is my secret dream.

One of them anyway.

And, not so secret anymore, now that I've blabbed to the internet.

How about you?

Do you have secret dreams?

Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Hippo gets a visitor

Look who came to visit a few weeks ago.

Permanently.

A Family Portrait: Uncle Chef and Hippo.

Uncle Chef made himself right at home.

In the pantry.

Right next to the big box of cocoa.

I think I like him already.

One night, last week, Uncle Chef decided he wanted to bake some cookies.

So, while Hippo and I sat on the couch and ate a pint of ice cream, Uncle Chef went on the computer and found a recipe for Peanut Butter Cookies from 101 Cookbooks.

Luckily, I had all the ingredients so Uncle Chef didn't have to go to the grocery store.

After digging all the baking supplies out of my pantry, Uncle Chef got started.

Uncle Chef likes butter. Something he and I have in common.

Instead of following the recipe and using olive oil, Uncle Chef decided butter would be the better choice.

Also, we had no olive oil.

That made the decision much easier to make.

Then Hippo decided he wanted in on the action, too.

There was just one problem.

Hippo is a little bit vertically challenged.

But when there is a will, there is a way.

I don't think Uncle Chef liked Hippo's solution though.

That's okay because Hippo has more than one way of getting over his obstacles.

Butter. Yum.

I pretty much think a stick of butter is dessert but

Uncle Chef slapped my hand away. He's the boss.

We added some maple syrup, vanilla extract, peanut butter...

...and Hippo got a little too excited. He almost fell into the batter.

But I rescued him.

As usual.

Uncle Chef took a long time mixing the ingredients together.

It must be hard to stir that batter without opposable thumbs.

I didn't offer my help.

Hippo did offer his assistance though.

But then, he almost fell in again.

That's when Uncle Chef banished Hippo away from the batter.

And Hippo was sad.

You know what that means, right?

Trouble.

What kind of trouble?

See this photo?

Wonder why we don't have photos showing the addition of flour, baking soda, and salt?

Because Hippo decided to take over the picture-taking.

I was convinced he could do it.

And he did.

There was just one hiccup to the idea.

The pictures?

They were OF HIMSELF.

Not of the cookie-making process.

I took back my camera.

Cookie dough on a cookie sheet about to be cookied. Yummmmmmmmm.

And then it was time to clean up. But, Hippo was nowhere to be found.

Uncle Chef, do you know where Hippo is?

Nevermind, I found him.

That was fast work, Hippo.

That means you get to do the dishes. Suds up!

The End

Thank you, James!

This post is for you.

[TBT] In which I realize I don't know how to spell my cousin's name

It was Rosh Hashanah earlier this week so I am throwing back to another post about the Jewish New Year.

Kind of.

Happy New Year, my Jewish friends!

Sunday, October 9, 2011
In which I realize I don't know how to spell my cousin's name

It was Rosh Hashanah about a week and a half ago, and my sister posted a video on her Facebook wall for her Jewish friends.

I saw it and immediately thought it'd be a fun way of wishing my cousin-in-law a Happy Rosh Hashanah.

But then I realized I didn't have his email so I was going to post the video on Facebook and tag both of my cousins.

But then I realized I wasn't friends with him on Facebook so I was going to search for him and friend him.

But then I realized I didn't know his last name so I was going to ask my cousin what her husband's last name was.

But then I realized I didn't know how my cousin-in-law spelled his first name. There are two possible variants and I could not for the life of me remember which way it was written on the wedding invitation.

So then, I emailed my sister to ask about it and well, I don't know why I thought she would know because my sister can't read English.

So then, I'm like CRAP, I'm such a bad cousin, I don't even know how to spell my own cousin's name AND I don't know his last name. GREAT.

So then I'm like, now I really have to send him this video to show that I care and I'm thinking up ways to do it without letting on that I'm a turdball when...................Rosh Hashanah passes me by.

I fail.

Sorry cousin dude. I tried. It's the thought that counts, right?

Except you don't even know I had the thought.

Unless you read this post.

Happy Belated Rosh Hashanah.

Except now it's Yom Kippur.

Boy, I'm really behind.

Sundays with Dad + Station LIC

This is my dad.

Before I told him to stop making his serious face.

At least it wasn't his duck face.

My dad likes to make duck lips when he poses for pictures.

I have no idea why.

Maybe it's his inner teen.

That's more like it, Dad!

My papa is a hoot.

And if you meet him, you'd think so, too.

When I was in college, all my friends loved him and when he came up to visit me, he'd take all my friends out.

That's probably why they loved him.

We'd go to Bertucci's in town and take over their long table because there'd be more than 10 of us.

Wow, I had a lot of friends back then.

Now I'm a hermit.

My dad, though, is not.

He's really sociable and charming and funny.

I think my sister got all those genes.

Dammit.

Anyway, my dad and I have been eating our way through Long Island City on Sundays.

So, over Labor Day Weekend, we went to Station LIC, a cool little bar restaurant that I'd gone to with my friends a couple of weeks before.

I enjoyed it so much that I decided to take my dad there.

The space is cozy and there are huge windows on two sides of the restaurant so that light, wonderful light streams in during the day time.

And, because the windows are treated, you get all that light without losing your privacy. I love it!

Fun fact: This bar is the same space where Tom Cruise's 1988 movie Cocktail was shot.

No Tom Cruise but the bar is just as enticing.

Now, onto the food!

My dad had the salmon on risotto:

Isn't it pretty?

I flirted with the idea of getting the Ponzi Burger again since it was so yummy the last time I had it with my friends:

But, I had a craving for something more decadent.

And, boy was it good.

The Cubano Mac n' Cheese is creamy, without being overpowering, and has chunks of pork and ham in it.

Yummmmm, is all I can say.

I asked my dad about his salmon.

He said it was good but the portion was too small.

Then he preceded to tell me how he went to Red Lobster with my aunt and cousin out in Long Island last week.

And, the salmon was bigger there.

Much better in his opinion.

Oh, Dad.

Bigger does not always mean better.

Well.

Anyway, during the outing with my friends, one of them had the Round Trip Chicken and another ordered the Chicken Pot Pie. Both gave me positive verdicts so I might just have to go back to Station to try them! I know I definitely want to try their brunch.

I enjoyed Station very much and I highly recommend it if you're ever in Long Island City. Just hop on the 7 train and get off at Vernon Blvd.-Jackson Ave. The restaurant is right next to the train station.

Literally.

[TBT] How to pick up a girl, Tip #3

Today's TBT post is very apropos since I was reminded just last night of how much I hate walking by myself in NYC sometimes because of the street harassment.

I got proposed to last night as I was walking home and my answer was to walk quickly away.

I'm only brave against street harassers during the day.

The below happened one day as I was leaving dance class and incidents like this used to happen to me fairly often. Thank goodness the frequency has died down and I hope it stays that way.

Friday, September 30, 2011
How to pick up a girl, Tip #3

Sometimes I forget I'm Asian.

Until I'm reminded again, when a guy comes up to me and says Konnichiwa.

And then I'm like, Wrong country, Asshole.

And then he's like, You're not Japanese?

And then I'm like, No.

And then he's like, Korean? Annyeonghaseyo.

And then I'm like, What?

And then he's like, NO WAY, YOU'RE NOT KOREAN?

(Like that's the most shocking thing in the world. You were wrong the first time, Buddy. Please, let's continue playing this Guess My Race game 'cause it's sooooooo much fun. Stop keeping me in suspense here. I need to know what race I am!)

And then I shake my head No and start to walk away, which is what I should've done in the first place when he said hello. In Japanese.

At which point, he starts shouting behind me, Neih Hou, I got it! You're Chinese! You gotta be Chinese!

Close, Buddy, real close.
But it's too late.
Three strikes and you're out.

And, Really? Do you Really want to date a girl who uses Like in every sentence she says?

The next time this happens, I think I'm going to respond with Hell-No Whitebread. Or, Hell-No Blackbread. Or, Hell-No Brownbread. Or, ... You get the picture.

Disclaimer: This doesn't mean that I mind talking about my race/culture/heritage whilst in a conversation. If you have a question, if you're curious about something, ask.

I welcome that.

Just don't do this to me when I'm walking down the street. Or as the first thing you say to me when I meet you. 'Cause it makes me want to slap you. Really hard.

---

I was a little livid after this encounter happened and it still makes me angry every time something like this occurs but at least, a reader at the time thought my rant was funny.

I'll take my positives any way I can get them.

How about you? Have you ever been harassed on the street? How do you handle it?

Who else is like Pavlov's dog?

I tend to email myself a lot.

If an idea or a deadline or a grocery item pops into my head and I don't want to forget it, I'll email myself as a reminder.

As a result, this happens to me quite frequently:

 Working hard at emailing myself.

 Oh, someone emailed me.

 YAY! I love emails! Who sent me an email?

Doh! Janice, that was the email you just sent to yourself!!

Does this happen to anyone else?

No?

Okay, just me then.

Shelley vs Shilly

Last Sunday, when my mom and I were driving to Long Island for my cousin's birthday party:

 Mom, you spelled Aunt Shelley's name wrong.

Oh yeah, I used an i instead of an e. 

You also forgot the second e.

差 不 多 (chà bù duō = close enough).

HAHAHA.

My mom cracks me up so much sometimes.

She knows how to spell my aunt's name and yet, it's Shilly in her phone.

I should check to see how my mom saves my name on her phone.