New York, New Year

This post is retro-dated.

Here's a series of photos from the bash at Nina's.

Happy housewarming, Nina :).

Christine, for imitation Rudy's dips.

The hearts may be jiggly and hard to see.
And you're giving them a bad name.

Don't stop belieeeevin'. Toad's supports the use of eminent domain to seize your personal "space."

Invoking the Elm City

Last night, Nina and I held a housewarming/college-was-wonderful-wasn't-it party in Brooklyn. The theme was "A 'New Haven' in Brooklyn," and here's the flyer for it. (I've blurred out Nina's address and phone number.)



The party's concept was the recreation of several choice locations in the Elm City, and Nina and I made four "stations" modeling Koffee Too?, Rudy's, Durfee's Sweet Shoppe, and (the indomitable) Toad's. Here's a description of what happens when two overachieving people plan a party:

• Koffee Too? - Custom-painted sign, baked goods, koffee liquor shots.
• Rudy's - Custom-painted sign, beer, frites with 3 homemade dipping sauces (mango madness, aioli, and samurai.)
• Durfee's - Assorted candy (we couldn't find any hard, stale candy, alas), vodka and Red Bull (to evoke memories of all-nighters).
• Toad's - Custom-painted sign, beer, and "shots through the heart" (jello shots with color-contrasted heart-shaped jello ornaments), sketchy double-entendre-filled playlist (ended by Bon Jovi and Journey).

The party was a lot of fun, and it was great to meet some new people and see some familiar faces. I hope that good time was had by all!

Fancy

Here's your one chance, Fancy; don't let me down.

Well, it turns out that due to my trip to China this summer, I have unknowingly (until now) enjoyed "Premier" status with United Airlines and US Airways. This explains why I've consistently gotten assigned to Zone 2 during boarding, even while sitting in aisle seats towards the front of the cabin. (I guess that it also explains the large "PREMIER" stamped onto my tickets... But who pays attention to these things, anyway?...)

Unfortunately, this benefit cycles according to calendar year. So of course, I didn't even realize that I had been enjoying this perk until there are a mere 3 days remaining in 2007. Who knows when I'll achieve this lofty status again...? Back to Zone Avagadro's Number I go.

Supersize my interview

My fellowship's "policy placement" starts in March, and for the past two weeks, I've been interviewing with potential employers. All interviews are conducted over the phone since most Fellows are very far from the District. After all is said (through headsets) and done (through email), both Fellows and organizations make preference lists. Then, an arcane matching system (which, I hear, employs a talking hat) is used to determine which Fellow works where.

I just had an amazing interview with a policy site.

Ok, that's a lie. It was surprising, and I'd like to share with you why.

The interview lasted 30 minutes. The first 10 minutes were devoted to small talk. Towards the end of our brief conversation, the interviewer suddenly seemed very eager to get off of the phone. I soon discovered the reason:

As I was somewhat superfluously explaining why I wanted to work for the organization and why I felt that the work would be personally meaningful, I heard something in the background. It was another person. But it wasn't just any other person. It was a fast food drive-thru operator. Something akin to "Can I take your order?" crept into my ear. I was confused, so I kept on talking, pretending that everything was normal. However, as I paid more attention to the ambient sound -- as I continued to blab about how my childhood makes this opportunity significant for me... -- I heard someone ordering a meal, perhaps a #2.

So yes, my interviewer was apparently in a car. At a drive-thru. During my interview.

And as another Fellow has suggested, my ranking at this place will depend exclusively on whether or not the medium french fries were salted to the interviewer's liking.

Um, so...

There are suddenly 5 new blog posts. Huh?

Let me explain. Some of these posts were written recently and have been retro-dated so that they make sense chronologically. Others were actually written on the dates of their current timestamps but only posted today.

I'll make a New Year's resolution to post in my blog more regularly...

Scary Santa / Fug & Friends

“Santa is so hot, and he wants a martini.” – Craig Shniderman, ED of Food & Friends

Every year, the Executive Director of Food & Friends, Craig Shniderman, dresses like Santa Claus and parades around the organizational premises. Ho-ho-ho-ing and getting red in the face due to heat exhaustion, “Scary Santa” boisterously visits every employee to thank “Santa’s special helpers at 'Food for Friends.'” (It’s also worth noting that Craig is Jewish, which made the experience ever-so-much more amusing.)

Please take special note of the penny loafers with faux-boot leggings. I am simultaneously surprised, impressed, and horrified.


After frightening a sufficient number of children and small animals within a 5-block radius, Scary Santa decided to have a wardrobe change in a Clark Kent-ian fashion. Occupying a conference room adjacent to his office, Santa (or is it Craig?! I just don’t know!!!) attempted to restore some type of normalcy to his appearance. Unfortunately for me, Santa was much slower than Superman (YOUOUOUOUUUUU!). By 9:58 a.m., it was abundantly clear that 12 minutes was an insufficient duration for Craig to don his knickers. I was worried because I had scheduled a phone interview with the Migrant Legal Action Program for 10:00 a.m. Luckily, a nonchalant Craig exited the room in time for me to receive the call. However, I would like to thank Scary Santa-Craig for filling my workday with sufficient amusement and awkwardness.

Channeling Noah

Steve Carell, stand aside. Take it from this postdiluvian, floods aren’t fun! Last night, as I was trying to muster enough willpower to get myself out of bed and pack my bags, I suddenly realized that I had forgotten a load of laundry in the washer. With some encouragement (or mockery) from Nina, I managed to traverse the great 9-foot divide between my bed and the laundry room. Opening the door, I discovered that the simple task of transferring my clothing into the dryer would be much more complex than anticipated. The washing machine had flooded the floor of the room.

It turns out that said washing machine normally drains itself through a pipe into a basin in the laundry room. (That’s what that sink is for…) However, the culprit of this crime against desiccation was a wash cloth that somehow found its way to the bottom of the sink, over the drain.

I didn’t really know what to do. The floor was covered in quite a bit of water, and there weren’t that many things that I could use to soak up the water. I ran and got my roommate Maisha (who was the one who figured out the cause of the problem), and she suggested that I use some newspapers to contain the spill. Yikes, I thought… That would require a lot of newspapers. However, I luckily am a huge packrat for newspapers because I regularly read the El Pregonero and the Washington Hispanic to practice my Spanish while riding the Washington Metro. To save them for “later review,” I dutifully shove them into my bag. This process of review rarely happens, though, and the newspapers ultimately end up in a Trader Joe’s bag in my room.

Here’s a picture of the lovely flood relief effort:

After letting the newspapers sit for a while, I went back to find that they were remarkably effective at absorbing the water. The clothing in the washer needed an extra spin cycle since they had not been drained effectively. After setting that up, I disposed of the soggy periodicals and returned to difficult task of packing my bags for a 4-day trip. In other words, I crawled back into bed, only to wake up at 5 a.m. with no bags packed and a load of wet laundry. Crudcakes. But given that I’m waiting for my flight in the Greensboro (NC) airport, it seems that everything ended up working out. However, I really need to fix my sleep cycle…

The Bill Emerson National Baking Fellowship

Every winter, one of the directors of my Fellowship apparently has a holiday party for which she invites people over to bake and decorate cookies. This year, the event is extra special as she recently moved to a new house. Thus, tomorrow's get-together is actually a housewarming-cookie-baking-extravaganza.

Lindsey and I were at a true loss as to what to give Shana, our boss, for a housewarming gift. First, we thought about getting her some baking supplies, but someone who throws cookie-baking parties probably isn't in particular need for any of that stuff. Second, we're kind of broke-ass poor. You know how Fergie's song "G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S" suggests that "if you ain't got no money," you should "get your broke ass home?" That's basically what Lindsey and I did. But first, we went to Giant and bought $20 worth of cake-decorating supplies.

See, earlier today, I had decided that it would be a good idea to bake Shana a brownie and then decorate it like the Congressional Hunger Center logo -- you know, the one where the Capitol dome is being ravaged by the giant tentacles of a set of racially distinct, conjoined twins:


Why? Who the hell knows? But I didn't have any other ideas... To keep things healthy, we used a box of "No Pudge" brownie mix with low-fat, plain yogurt. Actually, that's a lie; we only used that stuff because we already had it. To make this dessert palatable/morally acceptable, Lindsey got a recipe for frosting that somehow called for an entire pound of butter and 3 pounds of sugar. That's 64 ounces of fat and sugar, folks. (Somewhere in the world, Paula Deen just got excited, y'all!)

So Lindsey made this frosting, and I baked the brownie. And then we used food coloring and made 4 different colors of frosting. And then, we used a $7 pastry bag we got at Giant to pipe on the fat-sugar-food-coloring mixtures:

The result after 3.5 hours of making a huge mess out of Maisha's house? (There is butter everywhere.)

BAM!


All I have to say is that Shana better like this crap, or I'm going to quit the Fellowship and become a food policy analyst for the Heritage Foundation. I mean, Lindsey and I qualify for food stamps according to income guidelines, and we're obviously eating too much. (But really -- $52 million in revenue? WTF is Heritage doing with all of this money, anyway -- other than conducting really crappy "experiments" on milk prices?)

And here's some live-action footage of the baking action. (Nina, after seeing this clip, has suggested that I get some Prozac. Not all of us can have vocal inflection, Nina. Geesh!) As it's clearly demonstrated, Lindsey and I bring different levels of excitement to life.

Partial transcript:
David [lifeless]: "Lindsey, what are we making?"
Lindsey: "We're making cookies!"
David [without feeling]: "No. We're not..."

Inappropriate Work Behavior

Well, taking a year off before med school has allowed me to experience a commonly maligned occasion: the staff holiday party. Comparing notes with a couple of friends, it has become known to me that the Food & Friends party was remarkably (and perhaps unusually) enjoyable. I largely credit this to how strongly the bartender made the drinks and to the extra drink ticket donated to me by the Special Events staff due to my unimpressive salary. (Well, unimpressive unless you're playing earnings limbo or income golf.)

I'll dispense with the frills and just list the horrifying things that I did under the disinhibiting influence of ethanol. (Yes, there was karaoke...) Keep in mind that the entire staff and many members of the Board of Directors attended the party. All of these people watched/listened in dismay as I:

1. Sang "Sexyback" by Justin Timberlake (duet)
2. Sang "I'm a Slave 4 U" by Britney Spears (duet)
3. Sang "Your Man" by Josh Turner (solo...)
4. Did the Soulja Boy Dance to "Crank Dat" for the entirety of the song

This limited and one-time performance received mixed reviews from critics.

"Apparently, you have this entire 'soul' side to you that no one knew about." - Alissa, Associate Director of Development

"Well, this one [pointing to me] came out of nowhere." - Don, Delivery Volunteer Coordinator

"And... here's our star!" - Dorota, Development Assistant

"We know what you do when you let loose." - Laura, Lead Community Dietitian (and my direct supervisor)

The Lame 2007 (Recap)

Being on the East Coast, there was no way that I was going to miss the Yale-Hahvahd football game this year. On Game weekend, I trekked up to New Haven with Lindsey, Carmen V., and Lisa by car. The trip took us much longer than anticipated due to a two-hour wait to cross the George Washington Bridge. However, we finally made it to Da Have'!

On the morning of The Game, kfed realized as we were walking past the Bookstore that she had forgotten to bring some necessities for a crimson problem of the personal kind. Thus, she ran off to GoHo and purchased an assortment of feminine products. However, since she was short on storage capacity, she was forced to stuff them all into her jacket.

Kfed, llena de gracia.

And The Game itself? Lame. However, the best part about it was the tailgating, and I must applaud former admissions staff member Jim Nondorf for having the snazziest tailgate I've ever seen. Not only was there a full buffet (replenishing!), there were two (count 'em!) open bars. Angelique and I stumbled upon this goldmine of merriment and enjoyment and then proceeded to bring a horde of '07 Hounies to join in the festivities. I must have spent 1.5 hours there, it was so good.

And then... The Lame. Not much needs to be said other than the fact that Harvard sucks... (So yes, of course Yale lost, and of course, Yale lost pretty badly.) As Christine says, "[On Game day], no matter how the function starts out... as time approaches 0, Yale approaches loser." Also, the "school on Monday" cheer rings hollow if you have to work on Monday. However, kfed's earlier oversight and subsequent marsupial genius allowed us to parade out of the Yale Bowl in style, shouting what has to be one of the best Yale cheers, ever. (We even had visual aids!)

"Tampon, tampon, stop the Crimson flow!"

All in all, The Game was a lot of fun. I miss college a lot (which I made very clear while walking back to Calhoun from the stadium...). It was great to see so many people from college again!

We be burning

Continuing in the spirit/grammatical somersaults of Sean Paul, I'd like to confess that I am an idiot.

On Friday night, I went with Diana and her boyfriend Alex to a dinner/salsa lesson that was planned by the PTOS. There are apparently 2,000 employees at the patent office, all of whom were invited, so the chances of our knowing anyone else there were not very high. The result: we got a small table to ourselves, where the seating consisted of bar stools. Not wanting to pay $2 to check my coat, I simply placed it on the ground next to Alex's stool.

The buffet dinner was pretty nice, and I had a yummy (but surprisingly virgin-tasting) mojito. However, the refreshing flavors of lime and mint apparently got to me, and I became intensely interested in the decorative candle placed on the center of our table. The candle was enclosed in a glass container that beveled to a smaller opening. So as we waited for the salsa lesson to begin, I decided that I would conduct a little science experiment. Folding a napkin from the bar into a small paper ball, I tried to make said paper ball float in the air with the hot air currents emanating from the candle.

Well, convection apparently doesn't work the way that I thought it did. All I managed to do was to catch the napkin on fire. I quickly grabbed it with my right hand and shook it in the air. I think the flame simultaneously laughed and thanked me for the greater oxygen exposure I provided it -- it quickly flared up even more, while in my grasp. Not knowing what to do, I threw the flaming napkin onto the floor, and embers of burnt paper floated towards the ground, Hindenburg style.

Alex was the only one who seemed concerned with my "solution," as he quickly shouted, "Not on the coats!"

But it was too late. I had already let go, and I only later discovered that a portion of the Hinden-napkin had landed on my beloved camel-colored wool coat. To make this an event to remember, the charred remains of the napkin kindly branded my coat in the following manner:

So yeah... soy bobo/tonto. And now I'm in the market for a new, flame-retardant coat. (And the middle joint of my right middle finger is in the market for some more hair.)