Tag Archives: bad jokes

{ta-da! list} that time we walked the brooklyn bridge;

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that time we walked across the brooklyn bridge was the day we wore our feet down to little feet sausages with poor shoe-choices.{brogues and bright green pointy flats with rainbow sequins can do that to you.}

that time we walked across the brooklyn bridge was also the night we realized cash-only ice cream places are for-real.{and they are heartbreakers.}

that time we walked across the brooklyn bridge was when i realized that homesickness for boston and florida doesn’t have to make me feel sad, but more so lucky to have two homes i miss that much. {and also puppies. oh, and boloco. let’s be honest}

that time we walked across the bridge was the night we realized $1 vanilla cones at mcdonald’s can be bought with dimes, too. as long as you don’t have shame.{and as long as you have your regular mcdonald’s guys being heavy handed with their swirling.}

that time we walked across the brooklyn bridge was when i realized strapless bras aren’t for fancy balls and proms.{that ish is for everyday. no straps= no problems.}

that time we walked across the brooklyn bridge i realized i am blind as a bat. big glasses forever*~ sally jesse rafael-style, ya’ll.

#classicbrooklyn outfit rounded out by a manfriend shirt. where’s my owl-embroidered tote bag? my straight bangs? feather extensions? it’s like i thought it was halloween or something.

seeing things clearly and un-blobby is underrated.
…especially bridges at night like this beaut.

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things you learn at twenty-two {so far};

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1. relationships and friendships should never be kept alive based solely on how  you both really love paul simon’s album graceland. get a grip; everyone dug graceland, everyone will always love graceland, and anyone who doesn’t love graceland is a robot at the core.  this means once they take a big dump on your heart/ question you buying that one denim skirt with patchwork and tassles that you love because it’s so ugly it’s cute, they should not get immunity because “boy in the bubble” is their jam.
 

i know, it’s a great album. and it’s hard. i know. but they refused to step on your back that one time you really needed your back cracked/ they ate a loaf of your bread without replacing it/they told you you smelled like a dog once, and that’s not a true friend.

 

2. most things can be resolved with watermelon.israeli-palestinian conflict? give those dudes some watermelon. people hating on gay marriage? sounds like they need some fresh, juicy watermelon to cool those hot heads down.

 

3. the only way to walk your dogs is by imagining you are in homeward bound. except not the sad parts. you can imagine the cat-running-from-a-mountain-lion parts, but not the injured-golden-retriever-in-a-ditch-in-an-abandoned-railroad parts.

 

4. navy and bright orange totally go together. eff the haters.

 

5. putting every little, tiny milestone in your life on facebook is reeeeeally annoying to most people around you and i’m not sure you want everyone to know for genuine reasons. i’m glad you got an internship/passed a kidney stone/your baby stopped barfing, but i know you’re just hurting for some likes. be silently content with the lack of baby vomit in your life by yourself. it’s a much cuter look, i think.

 

6.  just because you have four “$4 off your next $20 purchase at cvs!!!!!” coupons does not mean you should spend all of them on orange coconut waters and expired 50% off easter candy.and apricot face wipes. and little flossers that you might have bought because they look like violin bows for kittens.

 

7. princess diaries was meant to be watched twice in one day. that’s the serving size.  dont deprive yourself of this pleasure.

 

8.you really only need one to three good friends. these can include your mom, your dog who has a habit of finding old condoms on walks to the sketchy park where high schoolers go after dark, and your cat that likes to hold hands more than most things. it can also include the cvs man who calls you “sweetheart”. whatever.

 

9. science museums are much, much, much more fun than ragers.


 

10. you’re twenty-two and you still don’t know how to make a bread bowl? what a waste. you could be eating your dishes by now. maybe by twenty-three you’ll know.

sunnin’ the limbs, a playlist;

IMG_4728{click image for spotify playlist. click here for youtube playlist}

 

i think summer playlists are a wonderful thing. the most special of all playlists.

as a former theme park employee who worked in a section of the park where it was always july 4th, 1976 year-round {i.e. working the carnival games outside of the “jaws” ride. no lie.} i know what a typical summer playlist looks like. i did over 18 times a day.

after 9 months of working whac-a-mole i lost the ability to stop myself from twitching when “jeremiah was a bullfrog” blasted over the theme park speakers. i danced with too many scooby-doo toys to pass the time to that songs in a crusty old ring toss game.

i have to physically leave trader joe’s if “good vibrations” is playing. that shit starts up my theme-park-induced ptsd.

that was my 9 months of talking to stuffed animal toys, telling grown men that no, they could not have that stuffed animal patrick the starfish toy because it cost more than their tommy bahama shorts, and having brazilian tour groups accidentally hit me with tennis balls, wiffle balls, and guns with yes, more balls attached to them.

 

i got hit with balls a lot, ya’ll.

and yes, i know how to say “balls” in more languages than i really expected to.

now that i am out of the theme park trenches, i know how a playlist of summer jams can either get you pumped up to get rid of your translucent white legs {like mine look when i put sunscreen on in the beginning of may. whoops.}

or how it can make your left eye twitch or cause people to think you just had a stroke.

 

we’re gonna go with the former route. sound good? i thought so.

{feed the mackenzies} doctor who blue velvet tardis cake;

IMG_4526last month was a pretty nutty one in boston. pressure cooker bombs? lockdown? manhunt? city is shut down?
it all sounds straight out of a sci-fi movie. orson scott card called, and he wants his plot back.

in a way, it was terrifying and stressful. in other ways, completely fascinating to reload reddit until 5am watching all of the updates and marveling at all the lovely people across the country who were up for 27 hours, listening to a fuzzy police scanner to give us news.

as we all know now, a lot of that craziness has blown over. but that lockdown day was a day homegirl over here needed to de-stress.

enter….blue velvet tardis cake. a birthday cake for the whovian manfriend.

because….birthdays are cool. 

exits are on the right if this is too much for you. this is almost as bad as the “meiosis + mitosis” cookies i made in high school for my bio teacher, using sprinkles as chromosomes.

once again, you may ‘X’ out of this post now. it doesn’t get any less disgusting from here.

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if you’re not familiar with good ‘ol doctor who, its a british series that has been on for the last fifty years.  it chronicles the doctor traveling through space and time with a companion {rose is my obvious favorite so far}  in a magical space ship called the tardis. simply put, it’s aliens and cheekiness and all kinds of feels.

okay, i just now spent 35 minutes looking through rose tyler .gifs and now i am headed on a one-way train to sob city, so we will continue. just…watch it, guys.

let us proceed.
this is the kind of cake that is excellent if you:
1. have ocd
2. are currently experiencing an all-day lockdown
3. you like making stencils.

blue velvet cake:
i used this recipe. follow it exactly.
don’t use food coloring like i did, unless you want a pond-scum colored cake {seen above}. use the gel. seriously, just do it; you won’t have to go through various stages of grief and sprinkles and instagram filters if you just use the gel.

icing:
manfriend’s favorite icing is this one i used before in a guinness chocolate cake for him.
tears will be shed, it is that absurd.

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once i baked the cake, i made a handy stencil using an x-acto knife.
you can also print one out and cut it out, but it was 8pm and we still hadn’t heard any updates about the manhunt, so the x-acto knife was quite helpful in stress-relief.

9pm? still no updates. so putting individual sprinkles on the cake one-by-one. it happens. i regret nothing.

10 pm? manhunt is over, ya’ll. the result?

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but a certain someone  was not amused by the end of the manhunt/lockdown . can you guess who?

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i want to go to there, a reading list;

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{old orchard beach, maine}

basically, ya’ll, my wanderlust is going crazy enough to make me want to say “ya’ll”. luckily, a one bedroom in manhattan is my destiny this summer, so thankfully i have some place to walk my new mom-ish shoes around {baby girl loves sensible shoes, even if they age me ten years}.  never have i been more excited to kiss my little floridian weiner dog, or buy mass amounts of mangoes in crates on a street corner in new york. these books are helping homegirl in the meanwhile.

{berlin} berlin stories by robert walser

{berlin + france + boston}  my berlin kitchen by luisa weiss
{the happiest places} the geography of bliss by eric weiner
{britain + america}  i’m a stranger here myself by bill bryson
{ireland}  irish journal by heinrich boll
{europe} neither here nor there by bill bryson
{actually, just read all of the bill bryson: appalachia, britain, australia, small town america}
{paris} the dud avocado by elaine dundy
{italy} la bella figura by beppe severgnini

 

meet edie;

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this is edie. her original name was princess, but we thought that name was lame.
so around these parts we call her “princess edie dalek caan cybermen“.

actually only two of us call her that, but my best friend lately has been a plump cat, so we’ll forget that for now.

she is my new kitten friend. she is ten years old, which technically makes her a dame.

{ guys, i’m so excited to be able to exploit my cat on the internet. i finally feel like i belong in the blogging world.}

she enjoys the following:
-farting.
-showing you her butt.
-clamping on to your shoulder when you hold her.
-having her belly fat rubbed.
-wheezing heavily
{she has cat herpes, which is sort of like the common cold to felines, so she has an adorable case of nasal congestion that i secretly hope never goes away. she sounds like stinky from “hey arnold!”}
-when her cat food is microwaved for 14 seconds.
-she also likes holding hands. and sitting on hands. oh, she loves sitting on hands. that’s babygirl’s favorite.

she does not enjoy the following:

-the bikes in my hallway {she’s been confronting her demons a lot this week}.
-the music of prince.

she’s kind of the best.

obviously we need to get the cat formerly named “princess” to like the artist formerly known as prince,

that’s just necessary for survival in my apartment, but for now she’s all good.

{yeah, i spent all night on that last one. hey-oh.}

{feed the mackenzies} speculoos mini donuts;

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guys, i am a lady of many dreams. most people chuckle at my many varied aspirations. “firewoman?! and you want a great pyrenees dog rescue? and a vermont cabin?! and learn how to sail? and you want to write books?! and learn german? …but wait, firewoman?!”

many people think you can have only one dream in your brain, can only hold one close enough in your heart. and i just think that’s a load of baloney. for as long as i can remember one of those dreams was to have a bakery. it’s gotten more elaborate over the years. it now has a name (“eclair de lune”, and if you steal it  i will fight you, and i am pretty scrappy.)

i also have a growing desktop note on my laptop labeled “kenzie dream bakery” where i have all of the lard-filled creations i plan to fatten up cops and schoolchildren with. i would be known city-wide for my baklava and deep attachment to my crisco container, and my tendency to speak to said crisco container. my dream is not of a bakery with cutesy aprons and banners and polka dots and other things i pin mindlessly on pinterest. i wanna be the old lady who you can’t tell her grays from the flour smattered in her hair.

one of the desserts i dreamt up for my “kenzie dream bakery”, during a super boring 2 hour class on the history of paper, (no joke, this is where all of the donut-flavor combos are born for me),were these little bad boys.

speculoos donuts.

yes, speculoos donuts. yes, that means ground up cookies and butter….inside more sugary flour and more butter. i believe this is what drake has been talking about all along when he first uttered “yolo”. that’s just my bet.

these little guys are pretty simple.{i tend to have whole wheat flour on hand at all times, so like these are basically a superfood. or something.}

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donuts:
1 3/4 c. flour
2/3 c. sugar {seems like on the low side, but the cookie butter really sweetens them a ton.}
1/2-3/4c. speculoos {dutch cookie butter. sold at trader joe’s, dangerously enough} i did this to taste, which is to say i smothered myself in it.
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 large eggs
3/4- 1 cups milk, use more if the cookie butter dries the batter out.
1 tsp. vanilla
2 tsp. white vinegar
1/2 cup butter, melted and cooled.

glaze:
1 1/4 c. powdered sugar
remaining giblets of your cookie butter jar {if there’s any left} ~1/4 cup
2-3 tbsp milk
1 tsp. vanilla

1. mix all ingredients together into a medium sized bowl {save milk for last, to see how the texture of batter develops. should be thick but you should be able to mix it without too much effort}
2. transfer batter into a ziplock bag to pipe into donut pan.
3. bake for roughly 12-14 minutes, depending on what size/ shape pan you use. less for minis, more for larger donuts obviously.
4. while donuts bake, mix glaze ingredients in separate bowl, set aside for dipping the little morsels into face down once they are properly cooled.

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….then, debate how you will slyly “motorboat” your face on to the glazed donuts incognito.
this will involve yelling that there is a mouse in the kitchen and your roommates should leave the apartment immediately because you, a baseball bat, and the mouse in question have some talking to do.

or simply put, bake things between 12- 2am, which i sometimes tend to do {re: the 3am guinness-chocolate valentine’s day cake of 2013}.

donuts motorboat’d. problem solved.

five things;

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{my “eff you, winter” shoes.}

i’ll be honest. i’m not one to do the cutesy blog q&a tagging rituals on this space.

i think it’s mostly because i’ve had a blog since i was 12 {thank god blurty is defunct and livejournal mercifully deleted my 13 year old blog, to the betterment of the world. i think i wrote an entire entry on weaves when i was 13, and i wish that was a joke} and did those deliriously long surveys that only slightly chubby middle schoolers do when their “the sims” characters are sleeping or peeing in a corner. meaning 12 year old chubby me, of course.

you know the ones. the ones that are 96 items long and ask you what deodorant you use and the last thing you ate, which was always what your middle school self thought the outside world was dying to hear. which was most likely some sort of strawberry “teen spirit” deodorant and a bag of cheetos. 22 year old me hasn’t changed too much. i just ate a cheese stick and i use whatever deodorant manfriend and my male roommate have in the bathroom. all the growth, ya’ll.

regardless, i got done-tagged, ya’ll. and since i’ve already told you what deodorant i use, we’ve knocked that one off the list. we’re ahead of schedule. here are five more. don’t get too excited.

1. i’m obsessssssssed with cvs extracare bucks. like actually obsessed. i keep all of them. one time manfriend snuck out of nowhere and scanned his extracare card when i was scanning my stuff, and he took my points, and that is essentially on par with kicking a small dog in front of a schoolbus full of small children.  i strategically plan when i’m going to use my “$2 off two $9 packs of cvs brand tampons!!!” and am visibly sad when i don’t get any more bucks when i go to cvs. i once went to three cvs stores in a day and bought a delusional level of stuff in order to use my extracare bucks up (rimmel eyeshadow! 1 dozen eggs! 1 tub of coolwhip! earwax-clearing drops!)

2.i pretty much have to announce to whomever i’m with whenever i see a dog, have to pet said dog, that there is a dog currently within 40 feet of me. i usually say “wubby alert. wubby alert. sound the alarm it’s a wubby.” {taken from the always-relevant andy milonakis}  when spotting a pretty pooch, and if i’m by myself i will usually speedily greet the dog. times i’ve  been sniped at?  just once. i count this as a win. times i’ve almost untied a dog that was curbed to a tree or lamp post and brought it home to be my own personal wubby? zero, but it’s only a matter of time.

3. i loooooove numbers. number games, get at me. one of my pet peeves is people assuming that because i am a writing major that i hate math, but i lurve it. i find it comforting and predictable, like a syndicated episode of “friends” at 10pm. for as long as i can remember, i’ve played a stupid number game i made up in my head. i basically take a phone number, mailbox, or birthday and add,multiply, divide, or subtract until i can get the other numbers in the series. for instance, when i got my phone number, i had to let out a little schoolgirl giggle. it was perfect. without area code (ya creeps), it’s 8081535. so the possible equations are 8×0=0, 1×5=5, 5+3=8, 5-5=0, 5/5=1, 8/8=1 (uses two numbers in series, to get another number in series is the main gist).  i once zoned out on a car ride with my old roommates and yelled, “that’s a good mailbox!” out of nowhere, overwhelmed by the mathematical perfection of a mailbox. they were not amused. still with me? in short, i’m gross.

4. speaking of pet peeves, i have a knee-jerk reaction when it comes to jokes about being a girl. i seriously will turn off a show, resolve not to follow a comedienne, or disregard entirely if someone even jokes about “becoming a cat lady”, “hanging out with my best friends, ben & jerry”, or “dying alone, being eaten by all my cats, my remains never to be found.” {actually, i like the last one. but anyways, you get the jist.} i’m a gigantic comedy nerd, and was force-fed comedy central stand-up shows ever since i realized at age six that i would never win the remote control from my 13 year old brother. i may not be the funniest lady in all the land, but i know these are cheap jokes and they make me wanna vomit a little bit. i’ll still love you, but i also might twitch a little. a love twitch.

5. if hip hop is not secretly playing in my headphones, no work is getting done. or r&b. or motown.  that’s just a fact.basically i wish i was a bouffant-haired buxom lady with major pipes and cat-eye make-up. and that’s the reason i’ll give for why i still haven’t folded any of the clothes in the reusable grocery bags spewing all over my room. yes, that’s it.

{pretty sure everyone in the world has already been tagged, but let me know if you all decide to fill one of these badboys out. i’ll just be over here looking at “good” mailboxes.”

a montreal itinerary;

{this past valentines day weekend i got myself on a greyhound and traveled all the way to montreal. for other itineraries, click here.}img_4083

get to south station at 7am after a valentine’s date of romantic egg sandwiches eaten under the glow of subway lights and alfred hitchcock, which is to say i was under a pretty hefty bagel coma.

promptly down the largest mcdonald’s coffee and delight in all of the artificial sweetener, fake cream, and ambiance. then, take two melatonins.

but actually don’t, because that’s like a big LOL to your body. if you feel the need to shake your right leg in place and scratch your head, but also fall asleep, you’re doing it right.

allow seven hours of talking to patchouli-scented busmates and buying $9 maple syrup at a sunoco in white river junction, vermont to pass. this is very important. do not question me.

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gallivant the city of montreal solo hell-bent on trying new things like poutine and maybe use some high school french (french club president 08-09, hollaaaaaa), but end up speaking english and ordering a fast food tofu green curry on styrofoam plates almost immediately. it happens.
extra points if you accidentally shout “I’D VOUDRAIS A  VERT TOFU CARI S’IL VOUS PLAIT?” when you get nervous.

that also happens.
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delight in the dreamboatiness of josh ritter and fantasize about him noticing your glance across the room, prompting him to say “you want to pull on my suspenders, don’t you? come on over. don’t be shy.”

what actually happens:
1. you forget to get cash out for coat check and the canadian bouncer is really not jiving with you holding your puffer coat the whole concert, but your card shuts down before you can because you’ve only just crossed the canadian border abruptly and are buying erratic things like ear plugs, sketchy hostel reservations, and $9 bottles of maple syrup. you are essentially a terrorist.
2. also, get a nose bleed in the middle of the concert.
3. get one of those delightful chronic uti’s is also a plus (tmi, but i need you all to really understand the gravitas of this comedic display of sad). go to the bathroom eight times, strategically placing the bathroom door cracked so you can still sing along to “bright smile”.
4. forget to pull your skirt down when you return from the bathroom for the sixth time. don’t notice that everyone can see the butt flap on your sweater tights until you go back for time #7.

even so, fun was had.
home girl doesn’t play around. she plays for keeps.

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spend the next morning prancing around mont royal imagining how on earth montreal hospitals and public parks can be sexy. they’ve taken it to an art form, ya’ll.

eat a burrito-sized crepe filled with nutella and raspberries on a stoop near mcgill because you really don’t feel like tipping anyone.

pretend to your instagram followers that you went into museums, because you truly can’t afford it. but pretty pictures outsides and selfies in gift shops count for something.

realize that your southern accent is coming back the more you go north on this continent. it’s probably been at least 11 hours since you’ve spoken to someone, so you spend two hours laughing about “montre-ya’ll” as a pun. this will help in hiking up mont royal, somehow.
this is how you solo travel, ya’ll.

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if you’re ever in the market for a porn version of “dude, where’s my car?” or some disney channel original movie (i’d be all for a “luck of the irish” version personally), fear not; montreal has already done it and it’s playing right around the corner.

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meet up with lovely blog soul-sister, emily. and delight in all things kitschy and dairy-filled (foreshadowing*~).

suddenly your mind is filled with all kinds of exclamation points: accordion players! french things! kitschy thrift stops with clear coffins with a dead jesus inside of it (really, this happened. it was right below the cash register)!!

bike baskets outside of erotic movie theatres! erotic bookstores! erotic lingerie stores! i was significantly disappointed on not finding an erotic bakery, but you win some you lose some.
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and then the inevitable happened. seeing as emily and were those types of girls: the kinds who ordered virtually ordered all the same things at all the restaurants we went to, we got lactose-sick off of a plateful of omelet du fromage, sadly enough.

we hobbled from shop to shop, through creepy jesus-sarcophagus-filled thrift stores to  shop-dog-filled shops, but realized a nap in our hostel bunk bed was what the doctor ordered.

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seeing as we had been calling out things as “so0oo0o instagrammable” (you know what i’m talking about: lattes, cats, flowers, clouds, anything fluffy/sparkly/alcohol-induced) all around the city, we decided to strike the most instagrammable poses; that of us crouching in pain inside a metro station. we tried to make a statement and i think it worked.

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modern vampires and fangirling;

guys, the time has come. my fangirling has reached a comedic height.

new vampire weekend jams, or what i usually call them, vampy weeks.

i am beside myself.  does anyone have a paper bag?

black and white. bold fonts. scenes from new  york. what seems to be a monster as a background singer. i am just can’ting all over this.

i might stuff a homemade guinness whoopie pie (you heard right) in my mouth to stifle my happy cries to the musical gods for newly released jams.

yeah, that sounds pretty good. i think i’ll do that.