Stupid Munchkin, You're a Sucker.

I fail to believe that just because it's your birthday, people should automatically be nice to you, the world should do you a favor and things should go your way. I fail to believe that, because today is my boss' birthday.

I considered baking cupcakes, but the process of mixing, baking and cleaning seemed undeserved for the man who's said my actions and/or thoughts are retarded on numerous occasions, all said as terms of endearment --trust me. I felt the love.

With a headstrong attitude, I went in today with my decision. No, the world does not shine on those who cast shadows wherever they go. After standing over my shoulder barking for four hours, called 10 times in a row within 45 minutes or asking to spell the word "lively", he doesn't explain the sour snap that comes from me and I've now been graced with the nickname grumpy (again, another term of endearment, I'm sure). Well, he would get grumpy here and now! HA! My co-worker adamantly agreed, "after all, he didn't get me anything for my birthday. At least he got you a card."

Wait, what?

Overwhelming feeling of guilt. Scene: me running in 4-in stiletto heels to the nearest Dunkin' Donuts. 50 munchkins, please. Preference? Bavarian Creme.

Perhaps I am the Bavarian Creme munchkin. A doughy outside that turned stale and crusty, pretending it's a solid whole of a donut while in reality hiding a sweet Bavarian creme, similar to sap.

Stupid munchkin.

Hmm... perhaps I will lick all 50 munchkins as revenge. Nah, not worth the extra calories. I'm such a sucker.

Photo credit: The Club 249 | Dunkin Donuts

La Irritation

Food therapy is an interesting concept. I've been using it as my primary means to maintain sanity throughout the work day. Anxiety and annoyance can easily be sedated by a large cup of Starbucks, 6 Reeses peanut butter cups and a bag of M&M's. Unfortunately, there comes a moment at least twice a month when my simple food therapy is interrupted by the irritation itself.

La Irritation, has become the new nickname that I've given one of my favorite restaurants, La Piazza, which has now been associated with my constant headache of a boss. The food at La Piazza is to die for. An Italian restaurant with a menu full of gourment dishes including Rigatoni Fiorentina, Chicken Marsala Pizza and the Crispino pie. It serves soft pizza dough as an appetizer and I swear, every pizza guy in the front has some exotic accent and calls me "honey" the moment I walk in.

Sadness consumes me everytime I realize that even the waitstaff at the restaurant dreads his arrival. Seriously, I promise I'm not exaggerating.

I highly recommend the chicken panini. A garlic knot with seasoned chicken, lettuce and fresh mozzarella. It quite literally melts in your mouth. And as I take a bite, I'm bombarded with an hour full of words of encouragement.

I need someone more experienced.

I need someone who can write. You have a passion for writing, but it doesn't mean you can write... or write fast.

It doesn't seem like your happy when you see me. I don't know why you're so grumpy every time I see you. Are you unhappy with your life?

Spit flies onto my cheek.

I sold my soul for a piece of chicken on a garlic knot.

Photo Credit: La Piazza (http://www.lapiazzaonline.com/)

Getting cosí

My leash extends for a moment around the lunch hour. It immediately snaps back after 60 minutes. Today I decided to test my luck and venture farther than normal, knowing that there was a chance that I wouldn't make it back within the 60 minutes. Daring, exhilirating, rebellious. These are the small things at work I live for.

So where do I decide to go? Food. Ha, no surprise. Cosí - how do you pronounce that? Maybe "cozy" to go along with the comforting atmosphere. Truly, it looks similar to Panera. Hmm which came first? Cosí or Panera? (FYI. Panera came first, starting in 1981 by Ronald M. Shaich.) And what makes this place so special, aside from their escalated prices?

Reading over the menu, I decide on a rich soup. My boss coughed on me today. Quite literally, coughed ON me. Coming back from LA, I'm sure he caught Ebola or West Nile, some foreign contaminent that he has to spread to my poor department.

CON: the menu is in the hall and my tiny, little, peanut brain for some reason entirely forgot what I wanted when I got to the counter. There's no menu behind the barista-like people. I crumbled under the pressure and ordered a sandwich. DOH!

All this was immediately forgotten when I got my little card, which indicates to a food runner which order goes to which table. The simple fact that they're bringing the order to you appeals to my lazy and hungry nature. A great combination of a restaurant like atmosphere with deli quick service.

I went over 60 minutes and I still didn't get to enjoy their prized feature: the s'mores! Bummer, but highly recommended the lunch spot.

Photo credit: Cosí (www.getcosi.com)

The Skinny B*tch Crouton

Fall marks the start of many different things: the changing colors of the leaves, the smell of pumpkin spices in the air, the incorporation of leather boots into everything. For women, fall means new autumn colors, plush scarves and a chance to darken their hair color. For men, it means football.

The balance I’ve found is making it half girly and half falling to trend. So this morning I had my own list of indulgences: facial, mani, pedi; and then off to watch football.

Enter the world of finger snacks.

Some men can't cook and that doesn't really surprise me, but I love their ability to improvise. My favorite improvisation was displayed on cheap Party City table cloths: restaurant bought BBQ wings. A fan of the buffalo wings from Hooters (and don't get visuals, I've never been into a Hooters restaurant before. I just happen to have friends that work there. Ok... that doesn't say much either. Feel free to judge me now), they've now been surpassed by the Croxley's Ale House BBQ wings. If you've never tried them, they're messy heaven and I highly recommend. However, finger foods do not go well with wet nails.

1 crouton

2 beers

Note to self: do NOT get your nails done before going to a football party.

Pumpkin had the last word, cheesecake.

Worlds of Encouragement has become a daily game. The winner is able to identify the most motivating, supportive one-liner of the day and will then receive satisfaction as a reward. We’re simple people in the PR department. Really… we are.

Sam, your inability to have any concern for what I tell you to do shows you have no interest in PR.

Response, so why am I paying to put myself through a Master’s program?

(Pause) I thought you were going for Journalism.

Response, you do know those are directly correlated, right?

The cheesecake is a recipe that dates back to early religious uses. It started simple and has evolved over time. In the fall, the best improvement came out: the pumpkin cheesecake. A simple cheesecake recipe that thinks it’s perfect has an added spiced pumpkin purée and extra cinnamon and sugar. Top with bourbon soaked whip cream.

A personal favorite would be the Pecan Pumpkin Cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory. Granted, it's a chain but it's safe, reliable and they have car side pick-up for when I leave the office around 8:00 or 9:oo pm. But tonight, with my wallet crying quietly beside me, I decide to hit the market and invest my $10 into two homemade pies, instead of one gourmet slice.

The rooms upstairs fill with a sweet, spiced cinnamon scent. In the end, the pumpkin has the last laugh. It may be pumpkin cheesecake, but the last taste remaining on your tongue is pumpkin. The plain cheesecake is not so perfect after all. I wonder if the cheesecake saw it coming with that extra cinnamon and sugar. Does it matter? Probably not. I drowned it in a bourbon soaked whip cream.

Photo credit: Food Network (www.foodnetwork.com)

"I Hate My Husband Pie"

There must be a direct correlation between mind, body and food. Otherwise, why would they call all those yummy, heavily carbed, fat soaked foods, comfort food? My mind burdened with the anxiety of realizing that my boss sucks and a huge chocolate bar will make it all better can be rationalized… right? Technically I'm a sucker for the peanut butter and chocolate combination. Reeses recently came out with dark chocolate peanut butter cups. I've yet to find them, but I'm dying to try them.

So the simple question remains: after a long, arduous day of him barking in my ear, what will I indulge in that totally negates my dietary efforts during the day? This sounded totally up my alley:

I Hate My Husband Pie... You take bittersweet chocolate and don't sweeten it. You make it into a pudding and drown it in caramel.

Yum.

If Jenna Hunterson in Waitress could bake pies to express her disdain for her husband and serve them to the world to enjoy… well… maybe someone out there will get a kick out of these blogs and I can figure out what to have for dinner.

On the menu for tonight: a bunch of sour pink apples.

Photo credit: International Movie Database (www.imdb.com)