Holy Aioli!!

I went out to dinner with one of my girlfriends last night to enjoy the patio weather. I decided I needed to order something a little more healthy than I normally would, considering my conspicuous consumption over the past week (month). I decided to order the Mahi Mahi, which is one of my absolute favorites, but I wanted to sub out the butter based sauce it came with for a healthier alternative. Ok, I didn't want to. The tightness of my pants at that point compelled me to.

Now I have been to this restaurant a bunch in the past. One of those times was when a couple associates and I took out our summer clerks. We had some special that came with a magic orangish sauce that was literally like condiment-crack it was so good. Of course I was too drunk at that point to remember anything about it other than how delicious it was. The next day I asked one of the other associates I was with what that sauce was because I HAD to find a recipe for it and he told me "chipotle aioli."

Needless to say I'm actually very lazy and so I never followed up on finding a recipe for the aioli. If I HAD I would have known that it's a mayo-based sauce that isn't healthy. At all.

So, I'm at this restaurant and I asked to sub out the butter sauce for their delicious chipotle aioli instead. What came out on top of my fish was definitely not what I remembered. In fact, it looked something like:


Now I was REALLY confused because I remembered the crack-sauce being orange and salsa-ish. So, the lack of texture was my (the wine's) fault, but the color really was WAY off. What in the gelatinous hell was on my fish!? I took my fork and pushed the blob off my fish and decided I was too hungry to send it back. I would just ignore the slime trail it left on my delicious Mahi Mahi. Lesson learned.

This morning though I was still vexed about the clear disconnect between what I thought my fish would be served with, and what it was actually served with. After an extensive Google images search I've determined that I got aioli, it just wasn't of the delicious chipotle variety. Clearly I am still craving that crack-sauce, so I'm headed home tonight to make it and I've included the recipe below.

FYI...I plan of serving it with my Gordon's fisherman tilapia squares. Who is high class now!?!

1 cup mayonnaise
2 tablespoons finely chopped chives
2 minced garlic cloves
2 teaspoons fresh lime juice
1 teaspoon chipotle chile powder or chipotle hot sauce
Salt and pepper

XOXO,

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Someone in This Office is Going to Perish...

I clearly have a very short fuse when it comes to people in my office (because I abhor each and every one of them) but I think that I generally do a good job about keeping myself in check. My bitchery is reserved for special occasions...like today, for instance. So, today I was forced to endure what we in the "legal community" refer to as a CLE. CLEs are mandatory classes that attorneys have to take to stay abreast of the law, but what they REALLY are, are mind numbing torture devices meant to strip your soul of it's will to live.

Now, I have been to plenty CLEs in my day, but this one was hands down the worst. The speaker's voice was literally the auditory version of sleeping pills. He also, apparently, controls the time-space continuum because I would swear I had been playing 30 minutes worth of Miss Pac Man on my Iphone when in reality, I had only been there for 10 (greuling) minutes. I actually had to get up and leave, despite the glares from the partners around me, so that I didn't pass out and slam my head into the table in front of me. I don't care. I'm not taking a disfiguring blow like that for this thankless job.

To make matters worse, the weather outside was GORGEOUS and we were inside a room with no windows. While this might not bother some people, I have this complete obsession with being outside (preferably on a patio, imbibing) when the weather is nice. Because of all this, I'm going to have to leave work early and go find a patio and a margarita. My bosses have nobody to blame but themselves!!

XOXO,

BlogMePretty

I Gave up Meat for Lent

Ok, so I'm not a Catholic anymore (I converted last year) but for some reason I still felt compelled to give something up for lent. Last year I gave up shopping (I know, I know) and that lasted all of about a week and a half. This year I decided to give up up meat (not fish as I have a serious sushi addiction). I knew this was a fairly large undertaking but I have been trying to eat healthier lately, so why not? Well, I'll tell you why not. Picture this for a minute...You have been on a little bit of a drinking binge one Saturday night and you wake up incredibly hungover. How delicious does fish tacos sound? How about some sushi? Oh, really, the thought of crunching on roe doesn't help your hangover? Yeah, didn't help mine either.

I went to a fabulous wedding this past weekend and I woke up Sunday morning feeling like I would throw up if I so much as attempted to brush my hair. The couple my fiancee and I were staying with are the greatest ever, and to help us all feel better they ordered the biggest most delicious meaty pizza I've ever seen. How was I supposed to resist that? I would probably still be laying in a crumpled ball on their guest bathroom floor if I hadn't had a slice (or two). So, I did, and it was seriously a life changing moment. You know how it is. When you are so hungover you might die and you eat something that magically makes you feel 100% better. I feel like I should write a thank you note to the dude who made us that pizza. Hmmmm, perhaps I will.

XOXO,

BlogMePretty

My Love/Hate Relationship with White Wine

I went out last night after work to catch up on office gossip and vent about how much I hate working with (translation: for) a bunch of fat fools. I had good intentions. I was only going to have a glass or two. Seriously. Anyway, fast forward 11 hours...

It's 5am. I'm just now going to bed. What had I been doing for the past 11 hours? Apparently a lot, including drinking all the white wine that was ever produced in the whole history of the world. Based on the clues I pieced together this morning, I gather my night went something like this...

I left the bar around 7 or 8, after 4 glasses of wine. Status = Drunk but functioning.

I got home and opened a ginormous bottle of white wine that I have had in my fridge for months (not like 1 or 2, we are talking more like 9 or 10). You know the bottle I'm talking about. That one that is reserved for parties only because it is FAR too much wine for one person to drink by themselves. Spoiler Alert! That bottle is, in fact, not too big for one person to drink. Of course, that is only if you don't care about your liver, personal safety or will to live.

Somewhere through that bottle I get the clever idea that I should build a fire. How do I know this? I woke up and my entire bed smelled like I'd been rolling in a bonfire. It's pretty safe to say that one should never attempt to build a fire when 1) you have no firewood or kindling of any kind and 2) you just drank the alcoholics equivalent of an all you can eat buffet. I, however, certianly wasn't going to let my lack of kindling or gross motor skills thwart my dreams of a raging fire. I think outside the box....box.....boxes....shoe boxes would make the perfect kindling! Who cares that I have nowhere to store my gorgeous new Louboutins now because I had an awesome fire last night (I think).

What'as the moral of this story? I don't know, but if there was one, I drank it.

XOXO,

BlogMePretty

I Came out of the Blogging Closet...

Only to realize that the closet I was in, is jam packed full of people. So, I was at dinner last night with two of my girlfriends and I don't know if it was the wine or the excitement surrounding the start of patio-season, but I felt compelled to share the fact that I had started this blog. It felt like I was at an AA meeting because rather than being shunned for my blogging transgressions, I was embraced! Both of the friends I was with had blogs too (although honestly, I was a little put off since both of their blogging ideas were substantially more clever than my own)!

I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders and I'm free to shout my blogging tendencies from the rooftops...or maybe just within a group of close personal friends who won't judge me too harshly for my tomfoolery. Moral of the story...Come on out bloggers because I know that blogging closet you are in is just about at capacity.

XOXO,

BlogMePretty

Highwater Pants

I was in a hurry to get ready this morning (perpetually), so I didn't really notice until the last second that my pants were way too short and I look totally ridiculous. I mean, it's not like I'm trying to impress any of the idiots in my office or anything, it's that I have a fundamental issue with highwater pants. If I see you, and you are wearing highwaters, just know that I'm mentally belittling you and you deserve it.

What's worse is that I don't know how I got to this point because I would swear the last time I wore these pants they were longer (maybe I should have skipped those last 20 trips to the office candy stash). Either way, when I slipped them on this morning, there was FAR too much foot exposure for my liking. I changed into a pair of flats. Nope, now the pants look to long. Fail. I tugged on the legs to see if they would stretch out at all. No such luck.

Now, most reasonable people would have just changed their pants at this point, however, I'm one of those neurotic girls that when I have my outfit picked out, that is that, and no highwater pants are going to stop me. So, I put on a pair of kitten heel sandals (it's only 50 degrees out but I had to make due somehow), sagged my pants a little, and strolled out the door. I feel vulnerable, like these pants have stripped me of my womanly superpowers or something. I'm going to avoid making eye contact all day and keep to my office. All lunch and dinner dates are hereby cancelled.

XOXO

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Why I was Running Late this Morning

I got to the office this morning at 10 (mind you, I was supposed to be there at 8). I overslept because I was up late taking care of some seriously important business (watching re-runs of the Real Housewives of New York that I've already seen 100 times and shopping for honeymoon outfits online). Of course, I couldn't let anyone in my office know the real reason for my tardiness or they would think I was a worthless pleb, so I concocted an elaborate, unverifiable lie to cover my ass. "I was at the court this morning! I had a bunch of filings that had to be done today!" What court you ask? That doesn't matter. My bosses work in "the corporate group" and they don't know the first thing about courtrooms or filings. Even if they were curious to follow up, my bosses have too much pride to grace me with a follow up question anyway. I knew I was golden.

To my great dissapointment, when I finally got in (looking exhausted from running around "courts" all morning) my secretary told me that it had been a slow morning and nobody had been by my office. Hmmmm....oh well, I can save that excuse for the next time I'm running late (aka. tomorrow morning).

XOXO

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My Search for the Perfect Job

So, I'm a corporate finance attorney and I hate my job. My job satisfaction is nonexistent and my attitude generally ranges somewhere between crippling depression and homicidal rage. What's worse is that I told myself for years that this was going to be the greatest job ever. I mean, mergers and acquisitions, that's totally hot, right? I imagined myself being this super powerful female attorney whose prowess made grown men crumble at my stilettos...

Unfortunately, I totally forgot the fact that I'm a huge procrastinator and I have no interest in drafting purchase agreements or reviewing SEC documents. In fact, I spend the majority of my day now fantasizing about how I'm going to quit my job (needless to say, that fantasy involves countless obscenities and a very dramatic exit) and spend the rest of it in retail therapy. What's worse is that almost every girl I know spends their day the same way (most with less graphic quitting fantasies, but whatever).

This all makes me wonder what job I can do that involves shopping and/or decorating, a glass of wine at 4-ish and little to no stress. So far I haven't come up with anything reasonable (other than becoming a socialite or the housewife to a hot billionaire, of course) but I'm working on it!


XOXO

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The Trials and Tribulations of a Twenty-Something

I'm new to blogging. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've made fun of every single person I knew who operated a blog. I mean, my opinion was always, who cares? Do you really think that much of yourself that you feel the need to post your incoherent ramblings and sub-par grammar online for your friends to read? Why would I care to read about your wedding/baby/divorce....

The truth is, I still don't care to read anything you have ever written, but I AM that self important that I think that you should care about what I write. Enjoy!

XOXO

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