Tuesday, September 30, 2008


So with the approach of graduation around the corner and about $150K in Student Loan debt. Not to mention 2 months of unemployment and bar fees that I still have not factored in. With repayment plans kicking in before the hazy days of summer begin, I am starting to think of ways to make quick money. I have considered flying to France to do a sleep study and even getting a nice pedicure in hopes that the foot fetish people might hire me. But I think I hit rock bottom when I decided to sign up to be an egg donor. I figured why not. I am smart, healthy, I do not smoke, and I can make up to $10,000. Easy enough just so they can steal some eggs, no problem. That was until I filled out the application. Have you or anyone in your family been diagnosed with ADHD? No. Are you or anyone in your family on Prozac? No. Do you smoke? No. Do you have a college degree? Yes. Woo hoo. I am on a roll...So I await my results. Here is what they sent me.

We're sorry, but you do not meet the minimum
qualifications to become an egg donor.

Thank you for your interest in our program.

I have been rejected! My eggs do not even qualify, they are not worthy. Sigh, back to salon - how is red for the toes??

Monday, September 29, 2008

It's all about the Benjamins

A lot has happened since my last post, and I began to wonder what could possible spark me to start writing in my blog again. If it wasn't the two weddings I had, or the amazing honeymoon through Colombia or calling the US Embassy to get me out of Colombia. If none of these very exciting yet story worthy events did not spark me to begin writing again (whether it be due to lack of time or just plain laziness) then what would it take?? Well, it took a 3 1/2 lb lobster. I spent this weekend celebrating the new hubby's birthday and I decided to go to Atlantic City. Now AC as the Jersey people call it has gone through a variety of stages. Back in the day when the mobsters and Frank Sinatra were around it was classy and only the high rollers would go party at the casinos. They would arrive in fancy limos and eat at extravagant restaurants and the casinos were filled with glitz and glamour. Then the city soon began to get filled with old ladies with plastic cups filled with quarters and all you can eat buffets. The only thing arriving at the casinos were DeCamp buses from the Port Authority bus terminal. So when I heard that AC was going through a rebirth, I decided to give it a shot. The last time I was in AC, I picked up a guy at the casino who became my long distance, pill popping, alcoholic, hot and sexy boyfriend. Don't judge. We all have had a least one bad boy in our life. So this time, it was another man who brought me to AC, a cute Southern chef who has an eye for good ole fashion American food. My hero - Bobby Flay. After many nights of Iron Chef and a night out at Mesa Grill, the Husband became a huge fan. So I figured what better birthday dinner than to drive out to Atlantic City. I booked us a night at the new retro luxury hotel, The Chelsea. Bashaw, the owner, hired the operators of the oh so popular Beatrice Inn to run their lounge so I figured I can not go wrong. The hotel was a hit, the rooms are ultra retro with leopard print chairs (I love animal print) and a bar with 2 fireplaces and a open air patio with a hot DJ blaring great music in the back. The hotel used to be a grimy, dingy Howard Johnson so I worried the area would still smell of old sex, but the hotel is brand spanking new. You would never suspect there used to a sleezy dump where the new Stephen Starr restuarant now stands. Anyway, I have gotten off track...Back to Bobby Flay. So after I had a cucumber/prosecco vodka martini to start the night (I had to get my daily serving of vegetables somehow), we were off to the birthday dinner. The dinner started off with a great bottle of Bordeaux and a wonderful lobster crab cake and oysters. Then came time to order entrees. I made a few mistakes that evening. Mistake #1 Asking the waiter to suggest an entree; Mistake #2 Trusting the waiter. I was recommended the lobster, and the waiter told me it was a specialty at the restaurant and the lobster was very fresh. Considering I walked past a tank of lobsters, I figured he could not be lying. I also thought when can you ever go wrong with a lobster. So he insisted he would crack it open and take out all the meat for me so I would not "dirty my pretty self". Oh how i am a sucker for compliments. So I went for the lobster. When the plate arrived he showed me the before and then came the after. A huge plate of lobster meat with butter and lemon on the side. I was so excited, and dove right into my plate. This is where Mistake #3 came into play. I never specified how many pounds I wanted. So after eating a wonderful mushroom mashed potatoes made in truffle oil and a delicious cauliflower with goat cheese side dish that we both split. I was in heaven. That was until I saw the bill!! It was then that it occurred to me that my waiter friend had picked shamu the whale to serve me for my entree, because my bill said 3 1/2 lb lobster! Who in their right mind would think that a 5'2" inch woman can or needs to eat 3 1/2 lbs of lobster meat? Not to mention, who in their right mind would think I can afford to eat a 31/2 lb lobster? Did he not get the memo I am a law student that is about to be unemployed for 2 months. Considering, I did not want to make a scene. I politely asked the Husband for the Amex because I knew my credit card would laugh in my face. I tipped 18% because the small child I just ate was eating the other 2% of his tip. Damn waiter! I am going back to AC next weekend so I can begin my part time job at Lace. Thanks Bobby Flay!