Archive for February, 2006

Hard to Handle

For most of my life I was unaware of the Dunkin’ Donut. Anyone with any type of good sense knows about Dunkin’ Donuts the store, but did you know that there was a donut called the “Dunkin’ Donut”, with a special nubbin to make coffee dunking easy and efficient? It was like a donut-crueller hybrid, a donut magnifying glass, an edible symbol that Prince might employ in his lexicon of ambiguous sexual identity.

I made Italian Ricotta donut holes (a Better Homes and Gardens prize-winning recipe!) with my mom last weekend which is why donuts are even on the brain right now. My Donut Companion and I were deep in a donut discussion (top three flavors – chocolate [preferably from the Dunk], cinnamon [preferably Hostess] and blueberry cake [also from the Dunk], the differences between custard-filled and frosting-filled, why Krispy Kremes really aren’t the best, hot or not) and then I brought up the Dunkin’ Donut. My Donut Companion was oblivious that such a sweet and delicious beast ever existed and for a moment actually doubted that it did. Not one to be proved wrong, I did exhaustive online searches which brought up ZERO images of the most functional donut ever. So I did what any rational person who can’t leave well enough alone did and emailed corporate headquarters at the Dunk.

Hi Dunkin Donuts,
Longtime dunker, first time commenter. I have a general question for you – [My Donut Companion] does not believe that the “Dunkin’ Donut” with a handle used to dunk the donut into coffee ever existed. There are no pictures online either. Can you send me a picture or something to otherwise convince him I am correct about all things Dunk? So far he has been gloating because he thinks he is right and we can’t have that, can we?
Thank you!

Days of eating donuts with no handles passed. (The Dunkin’ Donut was retired in 2003 since their unique shape required hand-cutting. Thus, they were not profitable or mass-produceable and since regular old round cake donuts could be machine made and were basically the same thing, they killed the donut unicorn in favor of the less magical, hornless donut horse.) Then I received this:

Dear Liz
Thank you for taking the time to contact Dunkin’ Donuts. We always appreciate hearing from our customers. Unfortunately, we do not have a picture of the Dunkin’ Donut. We did have a donut called the Dunkin’ Donut that had a handle. We began making a new and improved cake donut with a new and improved process to produce our cake donuts. This new process does not allow us to make the shape of the Dunkin’ Donut.

At Dunkin’ Donuts we value our customers and are committed to making your visits to our stores a pleasant experience. If we can be of any further service please feel free to call us toll free at 1-800-859-5339.
Thank you and have a great day.


So there you have it, an anti-climactic conclusion without pictures. But “new and improved”? I beg to differ! Are those your words, or THE MAN’S words, Jessica??

Jessica did, however, prove me right in the existence-of-this-donut department, but with no image, my “right-ness” feels harder to grasp. Just like donuts nowadays.

Did someone say crossover blog episode?

Bigger than Law and Order meeting Homicide: Life on the Street, it’s Glesbo meets Whoisliz.

It’s Lectric, Boogie Woogie Woogie!

I am not someone who gets irate over deliberately misspelled brand names like Cheez-Its or Kool-Aid, but one thing that does make me bonkers is Lectric Shave. It’s not a name that was modified for phonetics’ sake, and it is the opposite of what you’d call rolling off the tongue easily. It’s what happened before the rolling-off-the-tongue wheel was invented. I feel like, by taking out the “E”, the word elicits a pronunciation with emphasis like “RRROAR! This shave is LLLLectric! I will eat you!” But does shave lotion require that much action and gruff enthusiasm? It doesn’t even have an apostrophe and the name is trademark protected, as is the phrase “Blade Close. Lectric Smooth”. Well, you know what, Lectric Shave? You can have it. You do not have to worry about the theft of your stupid name. Because it’s Etarded. But it does make me wonder what other stupid names there would be if people followed your Lectric lead.
MTV Unplugged was all about saying bye bye to your…Lectric Guitar!
…Lectrolysis is a permanent method of hair removal!
Static…Lectricity makes your hair stand up and it will shock you!
You know who owns NBC? General…Lectric!
The…Lectric Chair is a bad way to die! Peeee Youuu, dead burning bodies!
Heyyy youuuu guysss! The…Lectric Company was just released on DVD!
On Singled Out, after Jenny McCarthy came Carmen…Lectra!
Don’t go in the pool, there’s a…Lectrical storm a-brewin’!
Mr. Blue Sky is a song by…Lectric Light Orchestra!
When I was in 4th grade I owned Debbie Gibson’s…Lectric Youth!
We should all take a walk down to…Lectric Avenue! There’s one in Fitchburg, MA!
I sing the body…Lectric!
Jennifer Garner played…Lektra and then had Ben Affleck’s baby!
Breakin’ 2…Lectric Boogaloo is a great sequel!

This President’s Day haiku ate my baby

I celebrated my niece’s first birthday by going to Massachusetts and partying hard with a handful of kids in the under-two set. And then I watched prooobably the worst movie you can watch after attending a one-year-old baby’s birthday, A Cry In The Dark, a movie about a dead baby. Meryl Streep and Sam Neill play Seventh Day Adventists whose baby may or may not have been eaten by a wild animal while they vacationed at Ayer’s Rock in the Northern Territory of Australia. This movie has one of the most famous lines on film [insert no-longer-topical Kate Moss joke] and I’m shocked that I hadn’t seen it before.


The dingo should have
eaten Meryl’s hair stylist
and not her baby.

Love Sucks!

But comedy about love sucking is funny! Tonight come see me and Jeff Hiller and John Flynn and Jackie Clarke and a whole crapload of other people whose names begin with J at the UCB at 8pm! I will be reading selected special letters from some special men I met in special cyberspace. Stay for the 9:30pm show “14 Kisses”…I was in this show last year and Time Out mentions it this week and not to toot my Yente horn but my sketch was the one that yielded the off-stage action. Yay kisses!

broken heart

It was fun for a while, we had no way of knowing

Pardon my unattractive gloating and excessive pride but last week My Trivia Companion and I finally won the monthly quiz at Our Local Bar because we are awesome and smart! That made us the recipients of [undisclosed amount of money but I will say this, we can now buy roughly 115 things from a dollar store]. Usually we do well in the first couple rounds of trivia night, getting a shout out or some acknowledgement that we are frontrunners. Once, we won the bonus round and got a free pitcher of beer. But we have never won the whole thing. With categories like “Junk Food” and “TV” you’d think we’d sweep every game, but they do make it pretty hard (careful that you don’t confuse Pocky with Crunky when asked questions about Japanese sweets, it just might be your team’s undoing).

This past week though, victory was ours and if you want to know why exactly it was so sweet, I will gladly tell you why, exactly. Because when some random obnoxious dude who you have never seen at trivia night before and his random obnoxious friends come in and think they own the place and start yelling things at Trivia Night Host and act like they are headlining a bringer show at the Comedy Cellar, you want to take them down. And take them down we did. When the winners were announced, we were all slightly annoyed when Team Living in Obnoxion placed second. People that obnoxious do not deserve to win a free round of drinks, let alone any kind of intellect-related bragging rights. My Trivia Companion and I, who hadn’t even placed on the charts in round one, were ready to pack it in. But then, Trivia Host announced the winning team name, Nina Garcia, and the bar went silent. My Trivia Companion and I were stunned and it was only when Trivia Host said “Did someone forget what they named their team?” that My Trivia Companion said “No..? We’re here,” and then I raised my hand silently. Because to speak would have made me actually seem normal, but raising one’s hand lends a certain je-ne-sais-quoi’s-actually-wrong-with-that-girl to a night of playing trivia in a bar full of strangers, I think.

My Trivia Companion and I, who of course chose to name our team for the Project Runway judge and fashion director of Elle magazine with a name that flows like honey, were subdued in our celebration. We chose to focus on what exactly put us over the edge, analyzing our strategies for the final round which was “Name that Music Video” and gloating quietly over the fact that we think we were the only team that correctly identified Roxy Music’s “More Than This”. As we left the bar, the smugness set in a little and we bundled our coats in the chilly February air because lets be honest, it gets cold on the (Bryan) Ferry to Winner Island.

Gilmore girls? More like Henry Hill-more girls.

Last night’s Gilmore Girls left me torn. Love? Hate? Love? Hate? How do I feel? I just don’t know anymore. The show retained all the references and pop commentary I hold so dear: Reno 911! Taboo on Broadway! Poet Christopher Isherwood!…?

But I am also the first to admit that the whole Luke/Lorelai wedding postponement due to Luke’s illegitimate child storyline doesn’t sit well with me and smells of a shark that has recently been jumped. And Paris and Sookie’s characters went the way of Sylvester Stallone last night, that’s to say just a smidge over the top. And Babette and Miss Patty and the entire rest of Star’s Hollow gawking at Luke and his daughter through the window of the soda shoppe with no regard for Lorelai’s feelings was weird because although Babette and Miss Patty are the town gossips, it seemed out of character even for them. So the pace of the show was manic. Maybe even bi-polar. But the final ten minutes? Basically, it looked like writer Amy Sherman-Palladino and director Kenny Ortega channeled Martin Scorcese during the last third of Goodfellas. No, Ror and Lor weren’t coked up and didn’t end up in a witness relocation program but they were hopped up on martinis, trying to escape the wrath of Hartford’s Most Tempermental Parents. The WB’s description of the episode doesn’t really do the whip-round camera shots and mile-a-minute screaming fights any justice.

“The subsequent Friday night dinner erupts into an emotional confrontation where all four Gilmores finally get their issues out on the table. “

Well, sure. If those issues were from their subscription to Crazy Rich Folk Monthly and they were placed on a table of delicate but manipulative emotions with one wobbly leg that has a wadded up piece of hysteria jammed under it. It was nuts! I adore this show but last night, Stars Hollow turned into Crazy Town and not in the good way:

More commentary on the Girls found here. (thanks, stan!) Hm. Husbands and Wives. I haven’t seen it in so long, I didn’t think of it.

You Win(frey) some, you lose(frey) some

I am still in a perpetual state of updating this blog with the content from my old blog and I came across this entry, which seems apt in the wake of the James Frey situation. Maybe a new title should reflect this? “Frey can’t win with Winfrey”?

Original post date: 5/16/05

I just don’t know what I would say if I ever met Oprah.

The woman doesn’t take compliments and really, what more can you say to Oprah besides “Oprah, you’re great! Your ability to tell it like it is and lose weight, combined with the fact that you have ridden in Travolta’s jet makes the world love you”.
The problem is that Oprah already knows this.
She even probably knows that the only reason people are on her show is just to hang out with her, not to reveal their personal stories of anorexia and alcoholism. There was that one show where the girl came on to tell some harrowing tale about being raped. Only this girl made up the story. Fabricated every word! The first rule of being on Oprah is you do not lie to Oprah! When Oprah found out this girl was fakin’ it, she sure told it like it was, boy oh boy. Did she ever tell it like it was. But then, and this is exactly what we the people love about Oprah, she had the girl BACK on so that she could be like “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Oprah Court, this girl is a liar. She lied on my show! The Oprah Show! LIED! TO! ME!!” To be called out by the world’s favorite person really doesn’t bode well for your interpersonal future:

“Nice to meet you, my name is Felicity”
“Hi Felicity, don’t I know you?”
“I don’t think so”
“No, wait. Yes. Yes I do know you. You’re the girl who lied to Oprah! And she FACED you! I don’t need a liar in my life. It was NOT nice meeting you, Felicity. You have some nerve. Hey Cheryl! This is the girl who lied to OPRAH!”

Such is the power of Winfrey. Oprah knows that girl took advantage of the good people at Harpo Productions, so she made that girl PAY! And it was awesome. She has no patience for the audience members who have a question for a cheating spouse but first just want to say how fab Oprah looks. Oprah just rolls right on past and is like “I’m Oprah and my pantsuit was made by angels. Just get to your question.”

I think the saddest thing I saw on Oprah was when Tracey Gold was there to talk about her drunk driving incident. First and foremost she wanted to tell Oprah that her husband Robbie was disappointed he couldn’t be with her on the show because he is just the biggest Oprah fan, but he had to work. There is so much in that one sentence that pains me. It’s not that men can’t love Oprah too, there is just something about the fact that Oprah makes dreams come true for everyone and yet she couldn’t get Robbie a day off from work to be a guest on her own show. And what of Tracey Gold’s Growing Pains residual checks, we couldn’t stretch those a smidge? No one had frequent flier miles they could turn over to him?
I find it hard to believe that no one could find a way for Robbie to get to Chicago, but you need not worry, there was still enough Oprah love in the studio without him.

So seriously, what would you say to the woman who just doesn’t take compliments? Or do you think she loves compliments but just internalizes them and if you DON’T compliment her she will make a mental note of it? What does it take to crack the Oprah shell, I wonder. Also, do you think that if she carries around her own wallet, she keeps those pictures of Julia Roberts’ twins in there?

The woman has a firm grasp on the malleable minds of we, her people. We are Oprah Apostles. O-postles. Our eyes dilate and pupils spiral to show our allegiance to her Angel Network and its beliefs in things like charity and literacy and foods rich in Omega-3 Fatty Acids. That’s why I am going to take the Oprah Challenge this year. That’s where you eat things like a serving of salmon drizzled with lemon juice and a handful of almonds and work out eight times a week in order to better yourself. Honest, eight workouts a week, there is no day of rest for the Opostles.

You are supposed to do all this for your inner self, but my outer self also wants to look good in a halter. Oprah makes you sign a contract that you will uphold these rules of good health. She says it’s purely a contract with yourself, but I know that really, Oprah the Omniscient will KNOW if I ingest white flour. She will fly from Chicago to wave her finger of disapproval in my face if I can’t hack it. It will be at this moment that my mind will go blank and the only thing I will be able to say is “Oprah. You are great. I love that you tell it like it is and girl, you look good and I’m jealous that you’ve ridden in Travolta’s jet. Oprah. The world loves you.” because the synapses in my mind have ceased to fire and it’s as if her mere presence is kryptonite to my keeping-it-togetherness. And Oprah will be like “Girl, Oprah knows. Now this better be your last supper of empty calories and low fiber” and I know it will be, because I do not want to be the one who betrays Oprah with a Hershey Kiss.