Christmas Borscht

This is the story of Christmas Borscht and how gross it is.

At the ripe age of 24, I have the same diet as an 80-year-old Ukrainian woman.

Lunch = Lentil soup.
Dinner = Borscht.
Snacks = Children.

For those of you that don’t know, Borscht is a beet-based soup that makes your poop magenta. I frequent a place called Veselka in the east village and order a cup of Vegetarian Borscht several times a week– it’s brothy, has a lot of vegetables, and, in my opinion, is super delicious.

Today when I stopped by Veselka and asked for the usual, they said “We don’t have Vegetarian Borscht, we only have “Christmas Borscht”, which is also vegetarian.” How far could a vegetarian borscht be from Vegetarian Borscht? Very far. Very. Very. Far.

Being Jewish, I should have been wary of eating “Christmas” anything. Christmas Carols. Christmas Trees. Christmas Cheer. All have the ability to disgust or crush me.

“Christmas Borscht” takes normal borscht to new levels. It is hilarious to say out loud. It implies reindeer and presents are involved. It is disappointing on all accounts.

From the moment I opened the container, I knew it was all wrong. There was the sent of an added spice that was a total curveball to my borscht experience. A gross curveball. Like, a curveball that smelled like ass. It was only downhill from there.

When I put my spoon in to brave the Christmas Borscht, there were no vegetables. There were only what could be described as “dumplings”, but instead of dumplings, they were really more like oversized tortellini that were stained pink on the outside, and totally black and mushy in the middle. I assumed I was eating mushrooms, but a part of me knows that’s wishful thinking.

I couldn’t finish it. I mean, you should have seen it. Smelled it. It’s been an hour since I tried to down it. Three pieces of gum later, and I still taste it. A part of me wants nothing to do with beets ever again.

I realize that eating, liking, and craving beet-soup is pretty weird, but Christmas Borscht isn’t helping. Christmas Borscht is giving normal borscht a bad name, and I think we should ban together and protest. Think of the other holidays and the tainted borscht experiences they’ll provide…and how each one will be a mystery meal.

Jackie Writes a Hilarious Bug Story! (For Kids!)

Here's something that happened to me in real life that I've now made into a child-friendly fable. This is the story of Jackie and the Beetle. What's the moral? You decide!

This is a story of triumph.

I got home late last night to find a large beetle on the side of my fan. It didn’t look like a cockroach. It was a size that was somewhere between a nickel and a dime. Large Antenna. Lots of legs. Grey. Gross.

So I did what I always do: I sprayed it with Windex. It didn’t move at all.

Then I sprayed it with hairspray. It still didn’t move at all.

THEN I tried a different hairspray that I thought would be more toxic. Again, the bug didn’t move, but how Voluminous!

Then I went to put everything back where I got it, because otherwise I would never be able to find them the NEXT time there was a bug in my room! As soon as I turned my back, the bug started to crawl down the fan.

Now, I’m really bad at killing bugs. So terrible, in fact, that my next move to kill the bug was again, something that did not kill the bug. The next thing I did was throw my fan across the room.

My fan is small and round, no larger than a cantaloupe. I love cantaloupe, though I would not love it if there were bugs on it. I threw my cantaloupe fan the full 18 feet across my room and was relieved, when I retrieved it, that there was no bug on its side.

But where had the bug gone? Surely, it was still in the room. After some careful sleuthing, I uncovered the creature and did what I should have done in the first place: hit it with something heavy.

Keep in mind, that this last move to kill the bug took ALL the grownup strength I could muster. I hate bugs. They are disgusting to look at and have cooties. I don’t like looking at them, I don’t like going in arms reach of them, but I understand that at 24 years old I should be able to kill bugs that are of moderate size.

I took my Cinema Studies textbook on Surrealism and started hitting the bug with the force of 1000 Zeuses. That’s right, I summoned the power of Zeus, the greek god of thunder, and then multiplied that power times 1000 to kill this bug that was not a cockroach. After three blunderous blows with said textbook, I looked down to see the beast, only to watch it start to crawl away again.

So then I did what anyone would do, which is just start wailing on the thing. After losing myself in the heat of the bug killing, I looked down, and it was dead.

I was proud of myself, because I’d never killed a large beetle before. Then I did the most grown thing I could to clean it up: I vacuumed it.

THE END

ALL BUGS AND NO SLEEP MAKE ME A CRAZY PERSON

Throughout history, people have hated ugly things. The ancient Greek Gorgon Medusa had the power to kill even the strongest of men by turning them to stone with a glance. My face breaks camera lenses. Things haven’t changed.

Cockroaches are my modern day Medusa. The difference, of course, is that when I look at them I don’t turn to stone. Instead, I shudder and run away, and then I come back to try and kill them but chicken out and subsequently talk to myself and cry. It’s a good thing this wasn’t Medusa’s effect on Perseus, as an essence of heroism and adventure would certainly be lost from that ancient tale of heroism and adventure.

One month after the last cockroach incident, I’m reliving the same story: I am still not good at getting rid of bugs from my apartment. I wouldn’t mind so much if it wasn’t so giant and disgusting looking, it’s just that these sorts of gross bugs cause the tag of my t-shirt to make my skin crawl.

I went to bed around 1:30am, and around two, I opened my eyes to SEE A GIANT BUG FLY IN MY WINDOW AND CLING TO MY WALL. I’m TEN FLOORS UP! I mean, really?!

It’s 3:30am, and my room has been completely rearranged. I’m too afraid to take off my moccasins in case I have to run around my room some more. My vision has been severely affected by these eye drops my doctor gave me for my cold (they make everything blurry). Even writing this is a struggle, but it’s a struggle in the heat of a moment when I am totally grossed out and in desperate need of distraction.

Throwing a textbook at the bug is not an option this time, as the bug has now planted itself near the window.

I’ve been out of bed for too long, trusty and poisonous Windex at the ready.

I should know by now that Windex is not a sufficient bug killer. My only other option is to do something like step on it. That’s so gross though!

This is the second bug in the apartment I’ve seen, but this one is different….THIS ONE HAS THE ABILITY TO FLY. It’s been sprayed with a lot of Windex though, so maybe we’re both on the same page in terms of blindness.

I’m too afraid to fall asleep. I’m too afraid to turn the lights off. If all you do is sit down to write a blog entry every time you see a bug in your room, you know you’re a big sissy…or in the very least, completely insane.

What do Japanese people think Canadian people look like?

Futuristic Dental Care of the Future's Future

A Product Review of the Toothbrush that Sings

My new iPhone can do everything except brush my teeth. Which is why, ladies and gentlemen, I’ve invested in a new toothbrush.

This is NO ORDINARY TOOTHBRUSH. This brush, called “Tooth Tunes” plays 2 minutes of music in your mouth while you’re brushing. THIS IS JUST WHAT I’VE ALWAYS BEEN LOOKING FOR IN A TOOTHBRUSH!

It doesn’t promise to clean your teeth extra well. It doesn’t spin, or have any other electronic function other than playing music when you press a button. The big idea behind this fancy toothbrush is that the longer the music is playing, the more you’ll want to brush your teeth to listen to it. PUTTING A RADIO IN YOUR BATHROOM AND PLAYING IT WHILE YOU BRUSH YOUR TEETH IS THE DUMBEST IDEA EVER. If you want to hear the same song over and over again while you brush your teeth, this toothbrush is really the best way to go.

The brush comes in a variety of styles: Hannah Montana, High School Musical, Queen, Kiss, Cartoon theme songs, etc. My toothbrush accidentally came with a Spanish song on it called “Ser 0 Parecer” performed by a group called RBD. I can’t wait to learn this song – I watched the music video and have no idea what’s going on, but anything that involves cassette tapes with tentacles and a group of Spice Girls dressed entirely like Shakira gets my thumbs-up for approval.

I haven’t tried it yet, but I have a gut feeling about this brush, and that gut feeling is that I’m glad I got it for free.

I Went to Japan and Had Fun: Part 2

Hello Again Loving Family!

Kyoto is so full of ancient wonders, but, contrary to popular belief, they are not fun. I would more appropriately describe them as “far away from each other” and “hard to get to”.

Each shrine has given us a different glimpse of life in ancient Japan. We saw a Zen Rock Garden! Did you know that a rock garden consists of rocks? (I prefer rock menageries myself). The brochure for the rock garden told us it WOULD provoke philosophical thinking. I was sorely disappointed.

After the rock garden, we found the shopping mall! There, we had bubble tea and McDonalds. It was JUST like being at home!

Then my friend and I went on this forced march around Kyoto, stopping at the Imperial Palace, a shrine made entirely of gold, and some other places of less significance but equal mystique. Embracing our jet-lag, we woke up at 6:30 in the morning and got ready to adventure around the ancient city and see the old-timey ways of life people emailed us about and loved so much. Unfortunately, the city was much more spread out than we had planned for and it was 90 degrees all day. We walked 8 miles in 7 hours, and had the most disgusting lunch I have ever EVER had ever.

To clarify some of the circumstances, we were told, in an email from one of my friend’s friends, that we should "walk everywhere." Considering that everything is only a couple of inches away from each other on a map (and labeled in Japanese), how were we to assume that one shrine would be an hours worth of walking from the next? We couldn't. Everything was far away. And, apparently, on a steep, mountainous incline. It was a sweaty day.

Lunch was supposed to be vegetarian, so I was expecting some salad and soup. Instead, I got a series of inedible seaweeds and pickles, a traditional "Zen" experience that made me long for ANYTHING I COULD EAT THAT WAS NOT THAT LUNCH.

The other Kyoto experience that made us miserable was the extra-special trip my friend and I had been told to make for ice cream. We schlepped for Mochi ice cream, allegedly served from this "special" ice cream place that has been handcrafting mochi for centuries. We were told that this was the ice cream of the ancients. We were told it would be delicious. They had only one flavor: Grass.

We knew it was grass-flavored because we were told what it was many times, and then, to make sure we knew we were ordering Grass Flavored Ice Cream, the man working brought out a special translator and typed in the word "Grass". We then, despite ANY COMMOM SENSE WE COULD HAVE USED, proceeded to order two GRASS FLAVORED ICE CREAMS and tried them outside. Guess what: THE ICE CREAM WAS MADE OF GRASS.

We got back to Tokyo yesterday and then ventured to Costume Karaoke. Tokyo has been awesomely fun, and, needless to say, Kyoto was a bit of a bust. Despite all the walking we did, we didn't make it to all the shrines we had set out to see.

Also, I hate to disappoint, but don't expect any magnets when I get back. Refrigerators aren't magnetized here, so magnets are seen as useless and thus, not anywhere. I'll still keep an eye out for those magnets-from-places-that-aren’t-home you love so much, so fingers crossed.

We're about to head out to some bar that gives everyone up-do's when they enter. I have pictures of everything - in fact, this is probably my most-well documented trip in terms of both emails and images, so I’ll make sure they’re on facebook later. Brace yourselves.

See you tomorrow afternoon!
Love,
Jackie

I Went to Japan and Had Fun: Part 1

This blog and the next will consist of two emails I sent to my family from Japan. For those of you that only stalked my facebook photos, here’s your chance to stalk me in a new and exciting way.

Dear Loving Family,

I sure am tired! Upon our arrival, I was so relieved to find that bathrooms here aren’t just holes in the ground. Instead, toilets are extra luxurious with a seat-warmer function. Upon flushing, they play Beethoven’s 5th.

On Monday, we picked a random page in our guidebook and went to see some shrines. We saw some old cool stuff. We learned we can't read maps, but we're really good at navigating the labyrinthine subway system. We got home and watched The Hangover (which was awesome and in English) and collapsed.

Yesterday we woke up at 5:30am to go to the Tsujiki Fish Market, the largest fish market in the world. It's only open for auction from 5am to 10am, and though it was certainly "an experience", it was only an experience we could stand for about a half hour before we hopped on a train towards Tokyo Disney. My poor friend wore sandals to the fish market and left for home with a not-so-fresh feeling between her toes (you know, like herpes).

Overall, Tokyo Disney is similar to the Disneys we have in the US, with the exception of all the safety instructions being in Japanese. My friend made me go on a ride called "Big Beaver Canoe Ride", and I was forced to kayak on a banana boat with 15 other people around a small moat. It was less of a ride than it was exercise. At one point we passed a Native American display, and then the guide said something like "and we have two Native Americans on board with us right now!" We don't really know if he said that, (after all, he was speaking in Japanese) but the hoards of people looking at us and laughing clued us in to some sort of mean joke, even if that joke was merely referring to us as Native Americans.

I’m having a great time. So far, my favorite parts of the trip have been:
1. Watching The Hangover
2. Going to Disney
Both of which happen to be things I could have done back home. Oh well.

Tomorrow my friend and I venture to Kyoto, which is supposed to be full of ancient wonders and lots of fun!

Love,
Me

My 4th Apartment's 1st Cockroach

It’s late. I’m exhausted. BUT I CAN’T SLEEP BECAUSE I CAME HOME AND THERE WAS A COCKROACH IN THE MIDDLE OF MY CARPET.

Granted, it’s a nice carpet.

I’ve never torn my room apart/cleaned my room so quickly. After picking up every article of clothing from my floor with a bent hanger, I then quickly (with trusty vacuum and Windex at the ready) moved my bed away from the wall, and then moved it back against the wall when I was relieved/annoyed that the bug had officially gone missing.

When the cockroach came back out of it’s hiding spot, I winced, squealed, and THREW the vacuum at the bug, hoping it would just be sucked up. It wasn’t, and then it ran into my closet, which I now refer to as “Home Base”.

I phoned my mother who I knew would tell me to “just kill it”. I phoned my friend who also told me to kill it, but more specifically suggested that I throw a textbook. Instead, I threw the only hardcover in my reach entitled, most appropriately, Cringe. When that failed, I threw a book about the South Beach Diet. DOUBLE FAIL…and why do I own that?

After living in New York City for 6 years, one would think I’d be a lot better about the whole cockroach thing. I’m not. This bug, roughly the size of some sort of commemorative coin, brings out the crazy in me. I start talking to it, asking for it to politely leave and not nest in my living space. I get paranoid and my skin crawls for hours. There is no question that I will go to sleep in the wee hours of the morning with the lights still on.

Most shameful of all is that this cockroach has a severe handicap. I’m not talking about the layout of my room, or how condensed my clutter is so that it can’t slip through and hide. I’m seriously talking about how this particular cockroach is handicapped. It moves really slow and stops to look around a lot. It does not like Windex or hairspray being sprayed at it, or vacuums being thrown in its direction. It should be dead. Instead, it’s taking a nap in Home Base while I blog about it.

My last crazy roommate never believed me when I saw a cockroach. I would say “I think there’s a cockroach under the fridge” and she would say “there isn’t” and go back into her room. The second time I saw one, she accused me of making them up. But I wasn’t! These cockroaches were NON-FICTION.

At least, my current crazy roommate believed me. He said, “I don’t know what you want me to do”, when really, I wanted him to man up and kill the cockroach. I almost went down and got the doorman, but instead, I decided to just stay put and hope it dies on its own. It’s been sprayed with enough Windex and hairspray to both clean and style a coif fit for an 18th century president, or in the very least, Lady Gaga.

When I finally pass out tonight, I’ll dream of a virile and giant warrior with no fear of disgusting bugs. He will wait amongst my pumps and purses in Home Base for the critter to stumble upon his greatness. This warrior will not throw vacuums or spray hair products to try and kill the bug from a distance. No, he will use a textbook as per a prior suggestion from a non-dream world where logic and reason apply. And once the beast is booked, I'll sleep soundly, dreaming of rainbows and theme parks in my own home base called bed.

Post-Traumatic Ex Syndrome

My friend is fabulous, awesome, and moving out of her apartment. As with any shift in space, she offered me some books she wouldn’t need in her new abode in addition to the 20th Century Edition of Trivial Pursuit. The box of books she handed over (or, really, her dreamy Polish doorman handed over) is about 25% readable and 75% “Barnes-and- Nobles-Recommended Reading After Getting Dumped” or “Barnes-and-Nobles-Employee Picks for Being a Mistress” or “Barnes-and-Nobles-Customer Favorites For Waking up One Morning Fully-Clothed, Locked Out of Your Own Bathroom With a Strange Yellow Stain in the Middle of the Carpet.” Some of these books are awesome, (and who knows if I’ll need/use the Trivial Pursuit), but the majority of the books boxed-over to me are clearly indicative of some sort ex-boy nervous breakdown…

6 Reasons Why I Think This:

1. Hell Hath No Fury: Women’s Letters from the End of the Affair
2. The Between Boyfriends Book
3. I just got Dumped and I’m Angry
4. Good Girls Gone Bad
5. Good In Bed
And
6. Memoirs of a Geisha

Some other favorites include Backaches: What Exercises to Do, and Self Made Man among a slew of books about being fabulous in NYC (The Devil Wears Prada, Simply Divine, NYC Zagat Survey 2004).

I know what you’re thinking: Maybe, instead of these books indicating her nervous breakdown, she handed these specific literary works to me because she thinks I’m a boy- crazy nutjob? I mean, she has subtly gifted about an eighth of any respectable Self-Help section, (though, of course, the Self-Help section is typically the least respectable section in a book store, even more so than Sci-Fi and that section of art-book-photos of naked people that could pass for soft-core). But this argument (the argument that I could possibly need man-advice) is obliterated with the gift of books entitled What Would Jackie Do? and Oxford Spanish Dictionary PLUS.

Also, before I need to worry about dealing with a breakup, I need to deal more with convincing someone to date me in the first place.

Check out Heartbrokedaily.com

I wrote some tales of heartbreak for heartbrokedaily.com.

Check out the latest:
http://heartbrokedaily.com/2009/06/03/krissy-the-yogi/

I hope you enjoy!

When Sick, Go Crazy

I have a tendency to get sick and then flip out about it. I’ll shake my fist at the heavens as my other hand brings an aloe-laden tissue to my nose. I’ll shower three times a day to “steam my face” and make it easier to breathe. I’ll also try to come up with ANY home remedy to make myself feel better (I’ve even contemplated snorting Vicks).

When I had a little cold three weeks ago, I was annoyed. I ran to Walgreens and bought Vicks, liquid Nyquil, a buttload of fancy tissues, cough drops, airborn, and Vitamin C. I got better pretty quickly and lived off of hot Chicken Noodle Soup from the Stage Diner (a few blocks away, but a real schlep if you feel like you’re dying).

And now, only three weeks later, I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M SICK AGAIN! And because I got food poisoning last week (which I originally misspelled as “foot poisoning”), there is NO WAY that I will be able to take another sick day before my spring break.

SO here’s what I’m trying to get rid of this thing:

1. Airborne - It’s not the real kind, it’s the Trader Joe’s brand “Air Armor”, which I like because it reminds me of medieval warriors. Now imagine thousands of tiny medieval warriors fighting off viruses, creating an EPIC BATTLE SCENE that will certainly be better and more realistic than the late King Arthur movie starring Kiara Knightly.

2. Anti-Viral Tissues - New, From Kleenex! The box itself claims to kill 99.9% of cold and flu viruses, but it warns me not to use these tissues as “anything other than tissues”, because that will be considered breaking the law. They’re not one-ply, or two-ply, but THREE-PLY TISSUES. Can we say: luxury in a box?

Echinacea and Goldenseal Root - Trader Joes makes my vitamin C tablets, so I figured I’d try out there other jarred-pilled-goods?

Vitamin C Tablet - 500 mg once a day. BUT NOW IM SICK!?

Vicks Vapo-Rub - Still contemplating snorting it. I just figure it will be easier than smelling like it all day.

Hand Sanitizer - Maybe if I had used more of this regularly, I wouldn’t have gotten sick in the first place.

“The KILLER” - A beverage from the Liquiteria including apple, lemon, ginger, Echinacea, asha, suma, indigo and goldenseal roots, zinc, and vitamin C. I expect massive Diarrhea.

“The ROYAL FLUSH” - Another beverage from the Liquiteria that has pineapple, pear, aloe, ginger, and liver-kidney detox which includes burdock, yellow dock, and Oregon grape roots, dendelion, red clover blossom, nettles, red root, and ginger. I expect even more Diarrhea from this. Looking at it, I’m actually afraid to try it.

In this process of getting healthy again, I’m learning that not only is getting sick expensive, it also creates a lot of garbage. Just think of all the dirty tissues that accumulate! I’m not even sure why we can fly to the moon, we can carve the faces of presidents in mountains and have things like iphones, but we can’t eradicate “the common cold” from the face of the earth.

And as for the anticipated bathroom runs, at least I’ll have one more excuse to watch Ratatouille over and over and over again.

Hormonal Play Review: Spring Awakening

What happens when adolescents review plays with nudity in them?

This: (And yes, I actually had to grade this)

The plot of Spring Awakening was about a couple who isn't suppose to have sex. However, the main character loses her virginity because she doesn't know what the definition of sex is. I do though.

One of the themes in the play was love. This was shown through a girl having her boobies kissed.

The tone of the play was both serious and romantic. The tone was serious because the lights were often dimmed, and also, the main female character dies trying to have an abortion. Romance is another tone because sexual action and touching can be seen.

When the girl's ghost is present, little lighting is present to indicate a depressed and sad mood. When the couple is having erotic sex, the lights are shining on them, to really make them stand out. This also shows that sex is the main focus for the scene.

My favorite scene was the sex scene because I was able to see a girl experience an orgasm. I also saw her topless.

The only "character transformation" I remember happening is the main character finally experiencing sex.

Spring Awakening was definitely worth attending (because I got to see a topless girl).

"It's Like a Fairytale From Baboonland"

One of my students wrote this when I was absent:

Door!

That dirty brown door appears intimidating like a troll. There are spiders everywhere. Mice crawl creepily near the door. Those demons enter their tunnels and don't come back.

(insert image of a door with the word Evil written across it).

When I bravely and courageously enter the door, I notice baboons with five arms. These animals appear busy, carrying various vegetables around. One of them really sticks out. He is shouting orders to the other baboons and is the only one speaking. I close my eyes and wake up as though everything was a dream.

Dear Old Lady Hipster in Front of me at the Food Emporium, You Are SO Old

I mean, you must be at LEAST 29. You probably think you knock a few years off your appearance dressing yourself entirely in the clearance section of Urban Outfitters. Your oversized pork pie hat, gigantic cloud-blue unflattering winter coat, and leggings only conceal the true emptiness of your soul.

Stop turning around and judging me for my purchase of Reduced-Fat Oreos and Low-Fat Milk, okay?! I know what you’re thinking: “so bourgeois and pedestrian. How gauche! I could make those Oreo cookies with my vegan Nabisco recipe book in my East Williamsburg apartment’s kitchen, (advertised, appropriately, to me as a ‘chef’s dream’).” Well, just because you look like The Strokes Cover Band, Reptilia's, wet dream, doesn't mean your cool, okay? "East Williamsburg" is really "Bushwick," and no one likes vegan food except vegans, and EVERYONE KNOWS THAT CHEFS HAVE NO DREAMS. Unless they dream to be on Top Chef, but I would say that qualifies as more of an “aspiration”.

So get over it Nosy Nellie (if that is your real name). Besides, what are YOU buying? An onion? ONLY ONE ONION?! I don’t understand! Are you planning on eating that onion by itself? Where were you and what was happening when you realized you need only one medium-sized onion? Were you in the middle of cooking something vegan when you realized you needed an onion? Don’t they have onions in Bushwick? Maybe not: one more reason I don’t live in “Suckwick” (that was my creative take on “Bushwick”, I thought it was better than “Suck Williamsburg”, with the “Suck” replacing the word “East”). I bet they don’t have Food Emporiums out in East Williamsuck, because supermarkets with creative jingles won’t be found in neighborhoods lacking one thing the jingle indicates: Class.

So go home to BushSuck (ANOTHER creative take on your very much-hypothesized place of living. I know what you’re thinking: ZING!). I’ll be cozying up in my apartment on University Place, a place where I don’t feel like I fit in, mostly because I don’t attend the university anymore, but WHATEVER. Stop following me home by walking in front of me the whole time! I hope your onionbreath fights off the demons keeping you trapped in the garb of a 19-year-old, trapped in the university dorm on University Place, right next door.