Taylor Dreams of Sushi: A Grown Man’s Journey into the Unknown

I guess I should start with how we all got here.

My interviewee (who, for the purpose of this piece, I will refer to as Taylor since that’s his name), recently asked me that question that everyone asks on a long road trip with an acquaintance, on a college roommate questionnaire, on a Tinder date, or – in our case – in a text message on a Friday afternoon where neither of us wanted to be at work but we were stuck there anyway: “What food would you eat if you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life?”

Um, that’s easy, sushi. Now let’s talk about what three books we would bring if we were stranded on a desert island.

He told me tacos (also a good answer, I have to admit) because (brace yourself) “I’ve never had sushi.”

Wait.

Skirrrrch (that’s supposed to be the sound of slammed car brakes).

Pffffff (that’s supposed to be the sound of a spit take).

WAIT A MINUTE (that’s supposed to be the sound of me saying out loud “wait a minute”).

“You’ve never had sushi before?”

I know it’s not like he said he’d never had spaghetti before, or waffles, or a Wendy’s Frosty-french-fry combo.

But sushi! It’s such mainstream and attainable fare. You can find it anywhere. You can purchase it at any hour of the day. You can have it delivered. You can buy it at the grocery store.

I’ve seen children eat it.

And sure, plenty of people have had it and don’t like it, but to never have tried it at all?!

I told him we needed to remedy this situation very soon. He didn’t quite understand my surprise, so I told him to think of it like if I had just admitted to never having had a taco, or that the sequel to Eat, Pray, Love was one of my top three desert island books.

We agreed (I informed him) to meet at Sticky Rice (or else) that weekend for an experience he will never forget (because I planned to document the whole thing).

And for some reason…he accepted.


Friday, March 15, 5:50 p.m.

My interviewee Taylor walks in, panting heavily and sweating profusely. I ask him if he had just gone for a long run, in an effort to give him an excuse for his appearance other than the real reason which was being nervous about eating sushi for the first time.

I then told him that I was afraid he would flake on me last minute, in a tone that indicated a joke to cover up my actual concerns that he would flake on me last minute.

My interviewee spoke very minimally during our pre-interview conversation, with occasional glances towards the exit – assumedly plotting out his escape route if things took a dark turn.

He asked if we could just start.

I said sure.


Tell me your name, the date, and the reason for this occasion.

Hello my name is Taylor O’Sullivan, it’s March 15. It’s approximately 6:16 p.m. This is my first time trying sushi.

Why are you here?

Because I accidentally told people that I had not had sushi.

Sushi is a very standard part of American cuisine. Why have you waited so long to imbibe in this easily obtainable and completely conventional food product?

Fear of fish. The idea that I pee in the water that these fish swim through is gross. I’m a germaphobe. That’s really it. I pee in the Atlantic Ocean all the time. And these fish are coming from the Atlantic Ocean.

Do you eat other fish?

No. I’ve had a bite of tuna before.

Canned tuna?

No. Wait, it was salmon, not tuna.

What’s the story behind that?

My dad made it one time. He was like “Taylor, you have to try this.” I did. I swallowed it and then I went to the bathroom and I spit it back out.

Did you know Caesar salad has anchovies in it? That’s disgusting. Once I found that out I stopped eating Caesar salads. I haven’t had a Caesar salad since I read the packet.

Pause for a break where the waitress came over and Taylor told her how he’d never had sushi before, and she told him he’s very brave.

What’s your actual favorite food?

Tacos and pizza.

What are some common staples in your diet?

Spinach salads, turkey sandwiches, buffalo chicken salads.

Have you ever been on the brink of eating sushi, for example with a girl that you liked, but backed out last minute?

Yes. There was this girl from high school voted most likely to have a crush on. Don’t look it up if you have that yearbook. We were back home from college on break and I was like, “I’m going to see if she wants to get dinner.” And she said yes. And I said, “Sushi, question mark.” And she said yes.

And why did you suggest sushi?

Because I heard it’s an aphrodisiac.

And it’s adult.

And then what happened?

I stopped corresponding with the young lady.

Because what was going through your head?

“I don’t want to get sushi.” So I ghosted her.

What has been going through your mind this week?

How can I get out of this, number one. I even got myself sick on Wednesday just so I could get out of this. And when you asked if I wanted to do this today and I asked to postpone, you said no.

That’s true, I did.

So yeah. What was going through my head? I’m sick, why do I have to do this. It’s probably not good anyways. I don’t know, I was Googling “Is sushi good.”

What did you find?

Some people said some sushi is good.

Did that Google search help?

No. Not at all.

Did it help your nerves?

It just made me feel gross that I’m thinking about sushi.

What advice have you gotten from people who know you’re doing this?

Swallow it whole. Chase it with soy sauce. Chase it with hot sauce. Just open that gullet.

What do you think it tastes like?

Shit.

That’s your answer?

No … yes. I don’t know. Rice? Seaweed? Raw fish that you bite into?

What are you thinking right now?

Sushi, sushi, sushi, sushi…let’s get this over with…sushi, sushi, sushi, sushi. And then what can I do to get rid of the sushi taste afterwards.

I’m also thinking about getting a grilled cheese after this.


A Photo Montage of a Young Man’s First Taste of Sushi

As captioned by Taylor himself.

Taylor is still somewhat excited for the sushi experience
He has begun to eat his first sushi
Wait, he hasn’t even begun chewing
He now realizes that we know he’s not doing anything with his mouth
He’s looking for the exit, now
He has in fact begun chewing
Taylor has motioned his hands a lot to encourage the chewing process
Now, he’s wondering if he can spit it in a napkin with no one realizing
This is just a repeat of the first image to make it look like he enjoyed the experience, which he did not

I later attempted to make an escargot joke, but Taylor was too busy trying not to throw up to appreciate it.

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Applebee’s Rainbow Punch: It’s Like Finally Finding That Pot of Gold

Each month, beginning like a year ago when they started officially declining as a business, Applebee’s has released $1-$2 drink specials to remind everyone why they should keep coming to this failing chain.

The drinks change with the months – sometimes it’s Long Island Iced Teas, sometimes it’s Bahama Mamas, sometimes it’s glasses of Blue Moon. One time it was $1 margaritas, or “dollaritas” according to someone clever on the internet.

This month? Rainbow Punch.

According to the Applebee’s website, Rainbow Punch is “authentic punch made with Absolut vodka and the combination of green apple, ginger, and lemon flavors.” Once blended and poured, the cocktail is then garnished with a slice of Airheads Xtremes Rainbow Berry candy and served in a small beer stein.


Obviously…I had to try it.

I invited the only other person I knew I could convince to meet me at Applebee’s for such an experience (who was also supposed to write a blog about this drink but did not) and prepared for an unforgettable evening.

Upon arriving at my nearest neighborhood Applebee’s Bar and Grill (I discovered that there’s one only ten minutes from my house, uh oh!), I ordered my beverage and then watched closely as my bartender Taneika got to work.

Instead of the meticulous, ingredient-after-ingredient process that most bartenders utilize – search for each individual component, measure it out, muddle some stuff, slap a mint leaf between your hands, form an ice cube into a sphere, shake it all up, and on and on and on until you’ve almost forgotten what you ordered – Applebee’s Rainbow Punch simply calls for a splash of vodka and a pour of their specially created cocktail mixer.

Which, if that’s not efficiency, I don’t know what is.

Once Taneika added a healthy portion of the main ingredient (ice), she poured in the most important ingredient (vodka) – just a splash since this drink is only $2 so don’t get too generous, is what I’m imagining was said during the Applebee’s Rainbow Punch training session – then filled the rest of whatever remaining space the excessive amount of ice allowed with the mass-produced punch concoction.

I found the Rainbow Punch to be tart and refreshing, with a juicy yet intricate flavor profile that brought with it an opulent mouthfeel. The green apple hit my taste buds instantly, but was quickly softened and complemented by the subtle lemon zest peeking through. And I found that, if I concentrated really hard, I could almost taste the hint of ginger that the cocktail description alluded to.

Close enough

The Airheads Xtremes Rainbow Berry candy, I soon discovered, is not merely there for aesthetic purposes. Just as red wine is strongly accentuated by a piece of rich dark chocolate, the Rainbow Punch is best consumed when paired with its adjoining garnish. The sour sweetness of the candy masterfully softens the punch’s austere complexities while bringing out the pertinent flavors of modified corn starch and green dye #12.

Although this drink may seem like it is best enjoyed on a hot summer day atop a lounge chair next to the pool, Applebee’s has released it in March to celebrate Irish heritage alongside the rest of the world honoring Saint Patrick.

The green hue of the cocktail commemorates Ireland’s national flag, a discernible nod to the native people of Ireland. Meanwhile, the Airheads Xtremes Rainbow Berry candy symbolizes a prodigious rainbow filling the Irish sky, arced atop the drink to insinuate that the cocktail below is, in fact, your very own pot o’ gold.



MY SECRETS…No More

Recently, due to some very unexpected yet serendipitous circumstances, my middle school diary found its way back into my life.

Throughout the years, in between divorces, moves, and purges, I thought this diary – of which I shared my most intimate thoughts about boys, friends, boys, school, boys, puberty, boys, gossip, and boys – had gotten lost in the shuffle, never to be seen again.

But it has recently resurfaced, bringing with it a bounty of memories of my thoughts, my dreams, and my emotional hormonal roller coaster.

Fortunately, as an avid writer since childhood, I never let a single life milestone (read: crush) go unwritten about.

The diary says “My Secrets” on its cover, but I’m busting open the lock (yes, there’s a lock) and unveiling “My Secrets” once and for all.


These entries are about a boy that I had a crush on in seventh grade. This is going to become very obvious very soon, but let me first say that I was intensely shy, especially when it came to boys – even though I consistently had a crush on like six of them at a time.

Friday, 1/26/01

My birthday is in one week! YAY! And I will be THIRTEEN!! But I have strange news … somebody “likes” me (supposedly). His name is Andy. I sort of like him. Ashley claims that he likes me. Whenever I look up at him he’s staring at me, so I guess it’s true.

Real subtle, Andy.

It would be kinda nice to have a boyfriend. I really like Keith W-lliams*, but I guess ya can’t have everything in life!

*Name has been scrambled to protect the subject’s privacy from having to be associated with this time in my life

I’m getting my room painted tomorrow (actually, Mom and I are painting it!). We already painted the walls (sky blue), so tomorrow we’ll paint the trim. There’s a lot 2 tell, but I don’t feel like writing anymore. Maybe later.

Monday, 1/29/01

I’ll make this short. All I want to say is Ashley said she’s gonna ask Andy out for me on Thursday.

Yes, I had to have my friends ask boys out for me.

Sometimes I wish they’d still do that.

I wonder how it’ll go? I’ve never had a boyfriend (of course) and I don’t know what to do!

Your friends can do it.

I sure am glad Ash is my friend. I need friends like her! We’re going to the movies on Sunday and she’s inviting Andy to come. She and Nicole say he’s my “birthday present” from them!

Which seems like kind of a cop out of a birthday present now that I think about it.

I’ll let you know how it goes. Wish me luck!

Friday, 2/2/01

Today is my birthday!! We’re going to the Melting Pot. Okay, so something really freaky happened today. It’s sort of a long story, so I’ll start from the beginning. Ashley seemed to think that Andy and I would make a cute couple. She also said that he liked me (because he asked her “do you know Rachel Marsh?”).

Real subtle, Andy.

So she invited the whole “clique” to the mall and the movies. That includes: N-cole*, A-hley*, K-le*, C-roline*, M-key*, G-nny*, A-drew*, D-na*, Me, and A-dy*.

*Names have been scrambled to protect subjects’ privacy from having to be associated with this time in my life

So anyways, today after science, Andy said, “Rachel! I can go.” At first I thought he wanted to walk with me to 3rd period and he was ready to go. So I said, “What??” And he said, “I can go.” I suddenly realized he meant to the mall on Sunday (I may want to mention that Ashley gave him a note yesterday inviting him to the mall)

I literally couldn’t even hand him a note.

And I said

Are you ready for this?

“Okay.”

And he said, “What movie are we seeing?” And so I

Are you ready for this?

Shrugged and walked out of the room.

Really knew how to hit that sweet spot between hard-to-get and completely apathetic.

I’m really psyched about Sunday. I hope things work out with me and Andy and we really hit it off! I’ll tell you how it goes. I gotta run!!

And then I drew a heart with our names in it, due to my blossoming creativity.

Monday, 2/5/01

Okay, Sunday was soooo cool. Did anything, like, happen? No. I’ll tell you everything though. **Daydreaming** Okay, done daydreaming. Okay anywayZ…

(sic)

I went to Ashley’s at noon and she sort of fixed me up.

I.e. turquoise eyeshadow

We then picked up Nicole and went to the mall. **Pause** **Thinking about Andy** Okay, so when we got there, Caroline and some other people were there. Including ❤ Andy ❤ . The girls got in a group and talked and laughed. Then ❤ Andy ❤ came over and said, “Hey.” And I said

Are you ready for this?

“Hi.” Then he asked what movie we were seeing and I said

In this really coy yet confident manner

“Miss Congeniality.” Then he went over to talk to the guys.

Probably because I immediately turned my back to him once his questions were over.

Ashley told me to sit next to him during the movie, so I did.

Definitely wasn’t planning on it otherwise.

The whole time she kept trying to get me to move closer to him. He was, as she said, leaning pretty close to me. Finally, once, she pushed me when I was off guard right into ❤ Andy ❤ .

My first shoulder touch with a boy!

I started whispering madly to her about how stupid that was (kidding, OC).

That stands for “of course,” unless I was somehow predicting the rise of the hit show TV series, The OC, starring teenage heartthrobs Mischa Barton and Adam Brody.

After the movie the boys just left us and went to Software, Etc.

Anyone remember that place?

Nicole, Ashley, and Caroline kept trying to get us together, like to hold hands or something.

Excuse me, I don’t know if you saw that accidental shoulder brush earlier?

Both of us are very shy,

By the way

so we didn’t. Another thing that happened was when they were in Software, Etc., ❤ Andy ❤ paid little attention to the stuff, but mostly I saw him watching me.

Real subtle, Andy.

The girls were trying to get me to make a move, then they tried to get him to. And he left while we were at the arcade.

Probably had something to do with his crush not even acknowledging his presence.

At school today in social studies, he looked at me some.

Creep.

I tried not to make eye contact with him

He can’t know I like him back!

So when I thought he was looking, I turned away.


Um, this may come as a surprise, but Andy and I never ended up dating. Or, in fact, talking to each other again – not even another riveting conversation like the Miss Congeniality one we’d had at the mall.

I think a lot of it had to do with his emotional immaturity, commitment issues, and uncomfortable staring habits.

You know, sometimes I wonder why I’m still single.

By the way, could someone deliver a note for me?

Don’t Need No Gals

Well, it’s February. And that means everyone has that one February holiday on their mind: Galentine’s Day.

February 13: The day where gals get together with their best gal pals and celebrate female friendship through chocolate, crafts, fun decorations, artisanal cheeses, Beyoncé, rosé, tiny dogs, anything pink!, shoes, Ryan Gosling, brownies, tampon talk, crying together, Pinterest, and all the other things gals love.

It’s such a popular and commercialized holiday, stores will even start in January selling Galentine’s Day-related decorations, cards, and gifts. Cafés are covered in Galentine’s Day décor, and sometimes even create unique treats just for the holiday. TV commercials bombard you with ways to show your gals how much you love them. Even the internet is relentless, with ad after ad of gifts to give your gals on this special day.

But for those gals without gal pals, Galentine’s Day is just another holiday designed to make those gals feel bad about themselves. And as the holiday looms closer, many of us become more and more aware of our nonexistent plans on February 13.

I sometimes call it “Gals Without Gal Pals Awareness Day.”

But this year, instead of moping around on Galentine’s Day and feeling sorry for myself, I’ve decided not to let it get me down.

I realized, hey – I’m a strong, independent woman and I don’t need gal pals in order to celebrate Galentine’s Day.

And you know what? It felt empowering.


I did a fun Valentine’s Day-themed craft!

And boy was it fun!

I watched a funny-yet-sad-yet-romantic rom-com!

Meet cute!
That witty banter!
But will they fall in love at the end?

Time for a little gossip!


I ate “all the” chocolate! Yum!

The calories don’t count on Galentine’s Day!

I braided my hair!

And told myself how jealous I am of my hair and how much I wish I had it

I took a Cosmo quiz!

I got mostly A’s which means I’m a tiger in the bedroom!

PILLOW FIGHT!


Time to play a fun game!

I won!

Then I hosted a wine tasting!


I gave myself that boost of confidence and affirmation that every woman deserves.

“You are a beautiful, kind, intelligent tiger in the bedroom”

I prank called some boys!

“Is your refrigerator running?”

I baked some cookies!

And ate a little cookie dough while I was at it!

Maybe too much.


I did my nails!

I didn’t forget a pop nail!

Then I gave myself a makeover!

“Fire Engine Red”

And I took a selfie of all the fun I was having!

My life is perfect!

Happy Galentine’s Day, everyone!


“Rabbit Rabbit, Baby.”

I sat at my bedroom desk on Monday leisurely drinking coffee and checking my email, working from home this particular morning due to an early afternoon doctor’s appointment (and frankly grateful for an excuse to come in late to work after an active and mostly sleepless weekend) (what? It was my birthday).

Apparently everyone else had had a busy weekend too because my inbox was pretty sparse; so I made breakfast, drank more coffee, and made some calls.

I was feeling especially good, too, because last week I’d actually remembered to say Rabbit Rabbit, a phrase that you’re supposed to say at the turn of each new month to ensure good luck for the remainder of the month.

I’m not crazy, okay, I saw it on Nickelodeon when I was a child.

I sat back down at my desk after breakfast to get a little more work done, and

THAT’S

WHEN

IT

HIT

ME

You know that moment when it’s 9:30 a.m. and you hear street cleaning trucks outside and suddenly remember that they come every Monday morning between the hours of 9-11 a.m. and as a result there are “No Parking” signs on that side of the street during the correlating hours, followed by the instant realization that your car is parked there because two days ago you had moved it from the side street since the main street outside your apartment was more well-lit and it felt safer to leave it there while you were away for the weekend in Chapel Hill, and you’re frankly not used to paying attention to those “No Parking” signs anyway because you’re usually at work when the parking restrictions are enforced?

You do?

Okay, so then you know exactly what I was going through at that moment.

And you understand why I threw myself away from my desk, frantically grabbed my keys, and began spouting out more bad words than I even knew I knew.

It was just so unfair. In the past month, I had shattered my phone screen, broken my glasses, gained two pounds, had my glasses broken again by an eye doctor, lost my favorite shirt, shattered my phone screen a second time, and gotten sentenced to 4-6 weeks on crutches after snapping a bone in my left foot.

And also, what the hell, how was I getting a parking ticket right now? I said Rabbit Rabbit right at midnight on February 1 AND I had said it at midnight on New Year’s, which should mean good luck for the whole year. And if Rabbit Rabbit wasn’t real, then Nickelodeon lied to me, and if that’s true, there are a lot of things I need to re-evaluate.

But I didn’t have time to do that at the moment because I was busy flinging myself out my front door in coffee-stained pajamas and a broken foot loosely protected by an orthopedic boot clumsily shoved on at the last minute.

I saw my car sitting defenselessly in the street, begging me with its eyes to not let anything that was about to happen to it, happen to it as the parking enforcement officer printed out ticket after ticket for cars situated as unfortunately as my own.

I dove across traffic in my unshowered, bedheaded, glasses-disheveled state, actively ignoring my foot injury while undoing all of the rest-ice-compression-elevation-repeat progress I’d made in the past two weeks.

“THAT’S MY CAR,” I shouted to the parking enforcement officer in the same dramatized, frantic tone as if I had just uncovered evidence to get an inmate off death row as they were walking towards the execution chamber.

I’ve only ever gotten one parking ticket in my Richmond life.

And if this lame story was – for some reason – in a movie, the camera would pan close to my face as I ran towards my car, flashing back to that moment in my past.

The year was 2013. I was at The Village with my then-roommate for a hangover-curing lunch on a Thursday (what? I was young). We had driven separately because, even though we were hungover, we were go-getter women and we still had stuff to do later. So we parked, put a handful of quarters into the meter for each of our cars, and proceeded to drown our regrets from the night before in grease and ranch dressing.

We had, apparently, both underestimated the amount of time the hangover curing would take because we were one quarter short of satiating the meter; when we walked out, both of our cars were receiving the neon green envelope treatment. The parking enforcement officer was still there passing out tickets, and I attempted to reason with her (what? I was young). She looked me straight in the eye and told me it was too late, before writing up another ticket and moving on to the next innocent vehicle.

Back in real time, as I Froggered my way through passing cars and home base-slid towards my own car, I wondered if, after all these years, it was the same parking enforcement officer that I had met six years prior. The same woman who ruined my “morning after” lunch from The Village and cost my broke young self a ticket that I could barely afford.

Okay, obviously this was likely not the same person passing out parking tickets so many years before.

But.

If this were a movie, it definitely would’ve been.

And after I delivered my climactic “THAT’S MY CAR” line, she would have put her ticket printer thing back into her bag, winked at me, and said, “Rabbit Rabbit, baby” before getting into her government-issued vehicle and driving off into the sunset.


But this was not a movie, and she instead told me in a very abrupt and patronizing tone, “Well you need to move it immediately.”

Oh, I see.

Originally I just came outside in my half inside-out pajamas and freshly slept-on hair, dragging my nub of a foot across the street, just to point my car out to you before I went back inside. Thanks for the heads up, I wasn’t planning to but I guess I’ll go ahead and move it.

So, I took her incredibly wise advice and drove my car back to the very side street that I’d originally moved it from, where – incidentally – there are no “No Parking” signs, and my car was free to live happily ever after [for the next hour and a half until I had to use it again].

Anyway, I did NOT get a parking ticket that day, and the moral of the story is Nickelodeon never lies  Good thing those street cleaners are so loud Park wherever you want to, as long as you’re willing to run out into traffic  Parking enforcement officers should all get a new job  My foot is probably more broken than it’s ever been at this point I need to wash my pajamas  Nothing at The Village is worth an extra $25 Always remember to say Rabbit Rabbit.



Ask Me Anything: I Broke My Foot

The rumors are true, folks: my foot is broken. A little bone connected to my left pinky toe has snapped, and I’ve been sentenced to crutches and/or a Transformer-esque boot for the next, well, eternity. I’ve had a lot of questions thrown my way, and I thought I would just go ahead and answer them all at once.

So go ahead. Ask me anything.


Are crutches still cool as an adult?

Yeah, cooler actually.

What has been the worst part about having a broken foot?

The pain.

No, really.

Everyone at work knowing how much coffee I drink because I need someone to bring it to my desk.

Are you afraid that there’s going to be a zombie apocalypse?

Is this in relation to my broken foot?

No.

Okay.

Can I see a picture of the injury?

I’m never one for showing explicit pics unless prompted so if you want to see that or the x-ray, please let me know. I. LOVE. SHARING. GROSS. STUFF.

How many people have suggested gluing the bone back together?

Not enough to make me try it.

Have your biceps gotten bigger since you started living your life on crutches?

Yes they have, thank you for asking. Do you want to see?

No.

Okay.

Do you have osteoporosis?

Why does everyone keep asking me that.

Do you have a chair in the middle of your kitchen so you can actually cook?

Are you stalking me?

Will you ever get better?

I don’t think so.

Are you still okay at driving?

Are you just asking me that because I’m a woman?

How long do you have to use crutches?

The doctor said anywhere between four weeks and the rest of my life.

Is everyone a little nicer to you?

Yes.

Is it a little annoying?

Yes.

But is it mostly really nice?

Oh yes.

Have you picked up any men while on crutches?

You would think.

Did you break your foot just so you could pick up men?

You would think.

Do you get to pick a friend to leave class early with and carry your backpack?

Stop that.

And now for the question on everybody’s mind, Rachel. How did… [DRAMATIC PAUSE] …it happen?

Some theories:

  • I stepped on a George Foreman grill while making bacon for my breakfast in bed.
  • I saved a school bus full of orphans before it drove off a cliff.
  • I had decided to do all of my own stunts in the upcoming Avengers movie and boy was that a mistake!
  • I tried to stage dive into the crowd at an AC/DC concert and no one caught me.
  • I was the competing on American Ninja Warrior and I broke it on that huge ramp thing.
  • I was doing a trust fall with Oprah.
  • You should see the other guy (amirite!)
  • I was bungee jumping or doing something equally as cool.
  • I was quail hunting with Dick Cheney (the joke that never dies!)
  • I don’t talk about Fight Club.
  • I fell in love with the man of my dreams but like I literally fell and so my foot broke.
  • Something about MMA (way too lazy to look up terms to make this seem even mildly plausible).
  • I was surfing. With…Fabio (stop it, I’m trying.)
  • Something…I don’t know, something about Hunger Games.

Okay I am running out of made up excuses so here’s how I actually broke my foot:

I was running down the stairs to get to my apartment, because I was late to brunch with my dear friend Francesca, and I slipped on the mat in front of my door and fell down. Like in the same manner that an old woman would.

Then one of the bones in my left foot snapped.

And man, did that hurt.

But it’s a super lame story, so I’m going to pick one of the ones that I said before.

Say “Yeah I Guess” to the Dress

Confession: this past week, I’ve watched more Say Yes to the Dress than I previously had in my entire life combined – including that one time when I was babysitting and couldn’t figure out how to work the family’s TV, forcing me to sit through TLC’s SYTTD marathon all night.

If you’re not familiar with Say Yes to the Dress (lucky you), this show follows future brides during their wedding dress try-on session. The brides bring a posse, which usually consists of /usually some combination of 1) an overbearing mother who either doesn’t like anything the bride tries on or cries a lot, 2) a jealous sister, 3) a best friend, 4) a brother who works very hard to act like he wants to be there, even when his sister tries on some very cleavage-enhancing gowns.

Occasionally the fiancé himself gets invited too (which never goes well because he’s always the most obnoxiously vocal one of the group).

I’ve learned a lot from this experience (including the decision to just wear one of the dresses I already have in my closet whenever I get married), and managed to record my favorite highlights.

Oh, I almost forgot – if you’re wondering WHY I did this to myself, it was all in the name of art and research … and now for the very related shameless plug: mark your calendars for the Coalition Theater’s Valentine’s Day show on Feb. 13-15!

My Favorite Quotes from the Say Yes to the Dress Era of my Life

“You don’t look like a hippo.” – The future bride’s really encouraging mom

“A turtleneck has no business on a wedding dress.” Preach.

“I’m okay with the $16,000 price tag. It’s like my one day.” – Someone with a much different concept of money than I’ll ever have.

“A bride arrives hoping to be transformed into a princess for her fairytale wedding.” This woman was in her 50s.

“As long as it shows her junk in the trunk, it’s all good.” – Further proof that the groom-to-be shouldn’t come dress shopping.

“I feel like I’m wearing my grandmother’s nightgown.” Plot twist: she was! (jk but how funny would that be)

“I’m never going to find the right dress.” – Literally every bride at some point during the show.

“You’re not going to a nightclub.” – Mother of the bride, in reference to a dress. In her defense, it was super slutty.

“I wasn’t sure if Don was the groom or the father of the bride.” – The bridal attendant, in reference to the 23-year-old bride’s fiancé who was 19 years older than her.

“I wouldn’t want a maid of honor either if she slept with my husband.” Fair enough.

“She makes me feel that things are not always that bad.” – The most romantic thing I’ve ever heard someone say about their future wife.

“You look like a low-budget Cinderella.” She really did.

“Brandon is everything to me. He’s my friend, he’s my lover…” Followed by a long silence because she ran out of things to say about her fiancé.

“I love this one.” – Immediately every bride on “Say Yes to the Dress: Canada” because they’re all so polite and obliging.

“Um … nice restaurants.” – Bride’s answer to the question, “What’s it like dating someone much older than you?”

“I feel like a princess.” – Bride-to-be

“I feel like a princess.” – Bride-to-be

“I feel like a princess.” – Bride-to-be

“I feel like a princess.” – Bride-to-be

“I feel like a princess.” – Bride-to-be

“I feel like a 21st-century princess.” – Slightly more creative bride-to-be

“I’m going to have a 1950’s-style wedding.” – Like 60% of the brides.

“I’m so blessed to have you as a daughter.” – Every mom whenever her daughter finds “the dress.”

“She needs a white dress. A very, very white dress.” – The sweet, naïve father of the bride.

“I’m considering wearing a white bikini and some hot pants.” Some brides just know what they want.

“I don’t think I’m going to have a maid of honor.” – A bride who thought this was the appropriate time to reveal this news to her best friend.

“Will you be my maid of honor?” – It’s amazing how decisions can suddenly change after finding the right dress.

“I think it looks gorgeous on you, just like you always look.” – A bride’s son who was definitely being fed lines from the producers.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to get a whole new dress.” – A bride who lost 45 pounds after ordering her original wedding dress. Rookie move.

“I think Barbara is a little jealous today.” – In reference to Shark Tank personality Barbara Corcoran telling the bride she looked a little fat in the dress. She did, though.

“You have to look your absolute best on your wedding day, but a red carpet look is hard to beat.” – A celebrity bride with one very big problem on her hands!

“I’m having THE biggest dress catastrophe.” In reference to her post-wedding wedding dress being one size too large.

“I give the pretty sparkles a thumbs up.” – The 7-year-old flower girl that the bride, for some reason, brought to her dress try-on.

“I feel them pinging.” – A bride, in reference to her smiling cheeks. Cute.

“I can just shed a tear, and my dad will be putty in my hands.” – A bride pouting about her dad’s $14,000 budget cap.

“I feel like I can sit in it.” – An important aspect of a wedding dress.

“With Ashley, the ‘girls’ are always out.” – A bitter bride in reference to her well-endowed bridesmaid.

“You look like Jessica Rabbit.” – Something no bride wants to hear, except for this one I guess.

“Like my soul.” – A future bride who insisted on wearing a black dress.

“So, are you saying yes to the dress?” – The line that every bridal stylist reluctantly says at the end.

“Are you saying yes to the dress?” – A mother of the bride who did NOT get the memo that that’s not her line.

“I feel like a bride in this dress.” – A future bride while wearing a bridal gown. So profound.

“Do I look pregnant?” – The bride who decided international TV was the best place to tell her family about some big news.