Nathan Meyers must love the guac’ as much as I do–or dare I say, MORE–because he’s written a book dedicated to it. Not only does Guac Off! include 30 (!) different recipes for the perfect meal/snack that is guacamole, but he’s also included a section detailing the history of the avocado, which some people may think is a bit much, but I think is a bit magic. And who WOULDN’T want to be the Guacamole Champion of the World?

via oh happy day

The New York Times has a great article with “recipes” for 101 different summer salads. I don’t know about you, but I always feel proud of myself when I make a salad. Sure, they’re not as simple to put together as, say, a Hot Pocket (for which “putting together” means unwrapping, microwaving, and scalding one’s tongue on lava-like cheesy filling), but most of the salads on this list are pretty fast and easy. And salads are good for you. We could all stand to eat more salads. And many of these recipes require only the sort of ingredients that you probably already have in your fridge and pantry…unless, of course, you ONLY eat Hot Pockets. And if that’s the case, then you’re on your own, fatty.

But I’ve been looking forward to “Away We Go” for months. Without giving away any particulars that might incur the wrath of the movie production gods, let’s just say I might have a dear friend who used to work for the company that produced this movie, and (s)he might have sent me a copy of the script several months back when they were trying to come up with a decent title for the film to see if I might have a suggestion good enough to secure her/him the $100 Starbucks gift certificate that had been promised for the winning title.

I was thrilled for the task, even if it meant my victory would be anonymous. I came up with a handful of my best suggestions, to which my beloved pal might have replied, “Boring. Lame.  Did you mean this one as a joke? Jesus, I thought you were a writer.” The promise of a few months worth of free coffee can turn people ugly, I tells ya…

But no matter. I loved the script. I haven’t read many scripts since my miscalculated days in film school, but this one was just plain well-written–like a book with wonky page formatting. I mean, it was co-penned by Dave Eggers, so no surprise there. And when I found out “Away We Go” (a pretty dumb title, if you ask me, but I’m not bitter…) was playing in a theater near me, I gladly ante’d up the bucks to watch it on the big screen. Okay…well, my friend Thom ante’d up the bucks as a belated birthday gift, but I would’ve paid had he not been there…

Anyway, I’m not in the habit of turning movie-company-shill, nor do I want to give anything away (I’ve been known to be a bit of an unintentional spoiler), so I’ll just say this: GO SEE IT. If you’re anything like me and have been jonesin’ for a movie with a well-written script, a well-assigned cast, the perfect I’m-laughing-because-this-is-excrutiatingly-uncomfortable-and-spot-on-and-utterly-relatable humor, sweet without being cornball scenes about love and family, and a super duper soundtrack (well played, Alexi Murdoch…wait, does that count as a spoiler?), then you will love “Away We Go,” whether or not you agree with the chosen title…

photo via Brett Craig/CD

While waiting for the left turn arrow, I pondered the billboard’s connotations. (Yes, it’s a long light.) A diet cola catered specifically toward men seems like an oxymoron in and of itself…if not just plain unnecessary. Like, does this mean that all other diet colas that have come before were created specifically for women? OR, were they created for all mankind, and if so, should we females be offended that the first gender-specific soda–a DIET soda, no less (honestly, which gender do you think generally throws more money at THAT industry?)–is marketed especially toward Dudes? Well, no, I’d really prefer to have the male-to-female salary gap closed before I throw a fit over not having a lady-tailored cola drink…

But I kind of love the billboard, and the entire Pepsi Max marketing campaign, even if it serves no other purpose for me than an object of amusement. I don’t know much about the world of advertising (I have seen a few episodes of Mad Men, though), but I like to imagine the sort of things that got tossed around that particular brainstorming session.

“Nothing flashy. The colors should be dark, sedate. The soda’s for men, so the signage should be simple.”
“Choose a font that’s easy to read. Men can’t understand those frilly fonts, like cursive and whatnot.”
“A slightly crushed can is the way to go. It appears a little world-worn, rough around the edges, like dudes. Also, it’s reminiscent of shotgunned beer cans being crushed against foreheads, so it works on a subliminal level, as well.”

There’s a couple other billboards around town that are even more…specific, let’s say.

photo via Brett Craig/CD

photo via Brett Craig/CD

“All men, no matter what age, are convinced they can have the body of Brad Pitt if only they tried. So they should look at this beverage like a step in the right direction. Also, any ad that has the word ‘boobs’ in it works on a subliminal level, as well.”
“What do all men have in common, no matter the demographic? The love of bacon. Except, of course, for the Muslims and kosher Jews, but we’ll reel those guys in with the man boobs spot.”

Oh, how the mind reels…

As it stands, the idea of a dude-specific soda just seems pretty fucking dumb. I mean, come on Pepsi! Don’t you remember what happened with Crystal Pepsi?! Or better yet, your top competitor’s attempt at cornering the grunge music loving, plaid shirt and combat boots wearing, Gen X demographic? (Okay, I totally bought into that second one, but I was a highly impressionable, sugar-lovin’ middle schooler.)

There is *one* thing that would make this whole Man Soda thing totally awesome, if you ask me. (Pay attention, Pepsi marketing team.) Just as you have to be over the age of 21 (or have a decent fake ID) to buy alcoholic beverages in the US, the same sort of rule should apply to the new Pepsi Max for Men. No, I don’t mean to suggest that only individuals over the age of 21 should be allowed to purchase your delicious (I’m sure, I’m sure) new beverage. No. I’m suggesting that some sort of rule and/or restriction should be put in place which would ensure that ONLY MEN (your target demographic, after all) are allowed to purchase said delicious beverage.

I know what you’re thinking. Outrageous! Sexist! Inflammatory! Perhaps. And, Dear Pepsi People, if your current sales of Pepsi Max for Men are reaching or surpassing your projected goals, then please disregard my suggestion. But if for some crazy, unforeseen reason your sales are slightly lackluster, then please consider the following. If a woman is denied purchase of your delicious new beverage, she will be outraged, yes. But also, her curiosity will be piqued. As she makes her way back to her car after being denied at the 7-11, she’ll wonder to herself, “What does Pepsi Max for Men have that regular Pepsi doesn’t?” And like a booze-loving teenager without the benefit of a quality fake ID, she’ll scan the parking lot for a kindly male stranger she can slip a wad of bills to and send inside to retrieve her forbidden prize, all the while thinking, “I have to have this precious nectar.”

For here is something you may not have considered, Dear Pepsi People. While dudes jonesin’ for a tasty diet soda may be a niche market of sorts, there’s an even nichier market that wields more power, more impulsive decision making, and more obsessive desire–Women Who Want What They Can’t Have.

Think about it. You know where to find me. And, you’re welcome.

Anyway, Apartment Therapy is hosting a little friendly competition (less like a contest than show-and-tell) throughout the month of June called My Great Outdoors Project, specifically for those people lucky enough to have their own, personal slice of world just outside their living room (or bedroom, or kitchen) window, and are making excellent use of such.

If you are one of these lucky folks, head on over to Apartment Therapy and join in on the action. Show off your stuff for those of us living vicariously through your 3rd floor balconies and garden level patios. I won’t say you *owe* it to us, but…

A couple of my favorites so far:

gorgeoux's london balcony

lisa's chicago condo balcony

Today is my actual birthday, and I’m a very lucky gal. My dreamboat of a boyfriend showed up at my door with a bouquet of my favorite blooms. He was worried the flowers he got me were of the “injured baby” variety (his words), but I assured him that they will bloom over the next couple of days…much to my delight.

And as another birthday treat, I stumbled upon some gorgeous peony photos over on SFGirlByBay (a delightful blog I highly suggest perusing) taken by Mrs. French, another crafty blogger whose site I plan on scouring for more awesomeness.

Have a lovely weekend and if peonies are available where you are, I recommend you do yourself a favor and pick up a bunch.

photo by Mrs. French via SFGirlByBay

photo by Mrs. French via SFGirlByBay

photo by Mrs. French via SFGirlByBay

The Gemini

4 ounces fresh grapefruit juice, strained
3 ounces St-Germain liqueur
2 ounces vodka
Ice cubes
Prosecco
2 grapefruit-rind twists

Mix grapefruit juice, St-Germain, vodka, and ice in a cocktail shaker. Shake and strain into 2 chilled glasses. Top each with Prosecco. Serve each with a grapefruit twist.

Because I have a fairly extensive music library and my “favorites” are always changing, I’ll use my star system (yes, I’m one of the dorks that uses that iTunes feature) to pick a list of my faves–current and from the past year. Enjoy, and happy birthday to me!

1.  Heartbeats — Jose Gonzalez

2.  Could’ve Had Me — Lex Land

3.  Fistful of Love — Antony & The Johnsons

4.  Dead & Lovely — Tom Waits

5.  Sea Song — Lisa Hannigan (her whole album is freaking awesome…I had a hard time choosing just one)

6.  If It Be Your Will — written by Leonard Cohen, performed by the Webb Sisters on his album, “Live in London” (holy god, can these gals sing…also, I’ve just always loved this song, sung by pretty much anyone)

7.  Almost Lover — A Fine Frenzy

8.  Use Somebody — Kings of Leon

9.  Please Do Not Let Me Go — Ryan Adams

10.  The Mariner’s Revenge Song — The Decemberists

11.  The Fear You Won’t Fall — Joshua Radin

12.  Grapevine Fires — Death Cab For Cutie

Yesterday, I had one of my obscure cravings, and I was consumed by an obsession so strong that I proceeded to spend an hour or so scanning the Web to find the perfect place to get my fix. What was I craving, you ask? Macarons. No, not the chewy, coconut kind that can be found at every Jewish bakery on Fairfax mere blocks from my home, like these:

Macaroons (two o's)

Oh no. That would have been too easy. I was craving French Macarons, something I didn’t even know about (much less craved) before visiting Paris last September with my mother. But being in the City of Light with a pastry chef, I tried just about every flavor of the delicate little sandwich cookie from just about every patisserie in the city. Oh yes, we were thorough. And I was hooked.

But only now did my craving hit, nearly a year after my trip to Paris and several months after the only real Parisian style patisserie I knew of in Los Angeles closed its doors. Typical. But I was determined. I found a little place in Beverly Hills, run by a Parisian export (so you know she’s a pastry snob), and somehow this is what excited me the most—the place ONLY sells macarons. It’s like they’re saying, in the stereotypical snooty French accent, of course, “Our macarons are so perfect, so beautiful, so delicious, we need not bother with other lesser pastries.” Unfortunately, by the time I finished my “research,” it was around 8 o’clock at night, well after the place had closed for the day. I’d have to wait, and maybe without appeasing it, my craving would just pass on its own…

When I woke up this morning, before I turned off my alarm clock, before I thought about coffee (which is always first on my mind), I had a sudden, singular thought–”MACARONS!” So no, the craving did not pass, and I would have to submit to its will. I headed off to Beverly Hills and picked up my treats. A LOT of them. Let’s put it this way, when I was picking out what I wanted, the woman behind the counter suggested, “Perhaps you’d prefer a box? It fits 24.” I felt the urge to tell her I was having a party, or had a large family–something to excuse my gluttony. But I shook it off. I mean, it’s Beverly Hills. They’re gonna look down on you for SOMETHING.

I didn’t eat them all in one sitting, as I initially feared, but have already had a few. Of the flavors I’ve tried so far, the raspberry and coffee flavors were just like the kinds I had in Paris–light and delicious. The coconut was forgettable–a little too sweet and kind of artificial tasting. And the violet cassis was delightful–a little different but not strange, and very flavorful. I plan to savor the rest over the next couple of days (they’ll keep for 5 days in the fridge, but are extremely sensitive to humidity). I might even share a few. Might…

French macarons