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i’ve got a bun in the oven!

20 Oct

Well, not exactly yet, but there are definitely going to be buns! Because it’s time for a POP-UP! Well, actually TWO POP-UPS!!!!! 


Holy shit, you should be so excited. I know I am!!!!! Unlike last time when I decided on the T-shirts before I decided on the date, this time I have chosen dates for the following. Unless of course these dates change. Because Harry totally said “no” and I was like “Oh come on, Harry, be a sport” and he was like “Um, be a sport like as in let you exploit my name and make me cook your stupid dishes?” and I was like “Yeah. And this is when I want you to that” and he was like “Fine, just do whatever you want to do just like always” and I was like “Ok, I’m gonna,” even though I was well aware that he was being both sarcastic and passive aggressive but without further hesitation, introducing:

Hamburger Harry’s

“a pop-up journey between the buns” (or something)

Tuesday, November 20th at something o’ clock pm

Thanksgiving Eve Eve!!!

Here’s the T-shirt maybe!


~ and (hold on tight, this is a totally new one) ~

Hangover Harry’s


Tuesday, January 1st at whenever you wake up which will hopefully be at like noon

Feel free to wear your clothes from the night before. In fact, we insist!

Ok, that’s all, just thought I’d share. I’d say you’re the first to know but these random people were sitting at a table and they were the first to know, but it was only because they were voting on like which popups to do and when to do them, so don’t take it to heart. I have to go to sleep AKA sit on Pinterest all night and obsess over creating new inspiration boards.

Stay tuned for the super exciting planning process, which will involve eating a bunch of buns and attempting to make french fries out of tempura battered Tootsie Rolls.

PS. I totally forgot to do this popup. Maybe next year?


motorboatin’ with the chef.

29 Jul

A fun thing about the restaurant business is that sometimes you have to cater a party that you’d otherwise be a guest at and instead of schmoozing and boozing, you wind up clearing plates off of people’s tables and brewing coffee for 100 of your friend’s closest friends. Tonight was one such night, except that I wasn’t technically invited to the party and I wasn’t technically working it either, so I basically just put on a shit ton of makeup and chased my babygirl around a backyard for 5 hours while Harry cooked steak and my parents hung out with their friends.

Something that maybe you don’t know about Harry is that he’s a breast man to the max, so imagine my shock and dismay when my Cater Waiter(esses) showed up in the uniform that Harry instructed them to be in – white polo shirts on a day where the forecast ranged from 70% rain to 100% depending on the hour. Luckily the waitresses were Things 1 & 2 (1 has requested that I call her by her first name when she’s not in the restaurant but I honestly don’t even know what it is) so they enjoy being completely sexually harassed by their devilishly handsome nearly-middle-aged Chef. In fact, on more than one occasion I’ve walked in on Thing 2 complimenting Harry for his thick head of hair, and has even asked me for permission to run her hands through it, which I obviously granted because what the fuck do I care if a woman wants to run her hands through my husbands hair? What’s the worst that can happen?

That’s the thing about being married to the devilishly handsome nearly-middle-aged Chef. You have to compete with Things 1 & 2 for his love and attention. Luckily, I won out tonight, most likely because the weather ended up clearing up so the wet waitress uniform contest never went down and because I was wearing a Gilly Hicks weekend bra and a low cut tank top that my babygirl kept pulling down with her little feetsies every time I tried to pick her up, causing my boobs to be like totally out there. They were so out there that my mom looked down at them and was like “Where did those come from??” and I was like “I know they’re big but they’ve always been there,” and she was like “No, I’m talking about your nails,” because they’re like glow-in-the-dark neon pinkish-orangish. But that’s how big they were tonight, big enough that I assumed my mom didn’t even recognize them. As a result, I was fortunate enough to not only win the love and attention of Harry, but also I scored this totally awesome and romantic photo, taken by Thing 1 herself. I’m one lucky girl. And yes, I am flicking him in response to his lewd actions, so don’t think I’m not like a demure and well-mannered princess, because I totally am.

In other news, I saw my Gay Asian Waiter today! It was awesome! Well it was only for like 8 minutes and I got really mad at him because he’s totally scamming me and trying to convince me to to take him to some concert in Vegas that we’re both trying to win tickets to even though if he wins he’s not going to bring me because he totally SUCKS, but it was still really nice to hug him and talk some smack and catch up on gossip. So now I like totally have to win the tickets because apparently that’s the only way that I’m gonna get to go. I feel like in life, concert tickets should go to those worthy, and in the case of a festival that features Brad Paisley and Pitbull and No Doubt and Tay Tay and is hosted by Ryan Seacrest, I should have fucking front row seats. Oh and it’s in Vegas which has really good restaurants and yummy drinks so all I’m saying is that if you know someone who can get me tickets and airfare and hotel accommodations to the iheartmusic festival in Vegas, please give them my email address and tell them that me and Charlie will do ANYTHING. LITERALLY ANYTHING. for seats. This includes, but is not limited to, tattooing the likeness of the said ticket-getter on our asses and attending the concert partially nude. A special treat, if I do say so myself.

Also in other news, I’ve been working on considering becoming a beer expert, in the sense that I’m going to buy new beer for the restaurant, like maybe the kind that looks like wine but is really an IPA or a Stout or something. I really have no intention of ever drinking anything that even remotely resembles a hoppy or heady or bitter brew or whatever it is they say, I will still only drink Bud Light. Although I tried a cider and it was really yummy, like wine coolers for snobs or something. So if you have any ideas on what beers will give me mad street cred, comment on this post. Ok, fine I’m just trying to get you to comment because like nobody ever does. Ok I’m really just testing to see who gets to the end of these posts.

Hamburger Harry’s it is!!! (plus harry’s shitty taste in dress shoes.)

26 Jun

So since you were all so overwhelmingly enthusiastic and only like 3 people gave me their opinions, I’ve decided to make an executive decision to go with Hamburger Harry’s for the next pop-up. I just feel like it’s the most “us,” don’t you?

I can’t be bothered with details like a date and time and place, and I’m not the biggest fan in the world of “I squeezed some buns at Hamburger Harry’s….” so we’ll consider it a work in progress for now, but you should know a few things that I’ve already decided:

1. There will be a Pick-Your-Pickle bar. I don’t know what this means, but it will be there. I’m assuming there will be quite a few varieties of traditional pickles, as well as some pickled other stuff.

2. That’s all. I haven’t decided anything else. It’s pretty pathetic, but I’ve got other stuff to worry about such as what shoes I’m going to wear to the wedding I’m going to on Sunday.

Oh, let’s discuss this wedding. I feel like I need to prepare you for the interesting evening to come. If I were an advanced blogger, I would draw you a simple family tree of sorts and all sorts of diagrams and shit like that and publish them so you could have a nice visual of the evening ahead of me. Instead I’ll provide you with an entirely written version. Sorry I’m not crafty. Here are the key facts:

  • Harry is the best man. He bullied Jimmy (the groom) into having all the guys in the wedding party wear patent leather Chuck Taylors. That’s my guy! Can’t go one night without wearing sneakers! He brought them home and let me tell you, those fuckers look like MISERY ON A SOLE. I’m either going to be an amazing wife and bring flip flops or a mediocre wife and bring scrunch socks as though we’re attending a Bar Mitzvah in the 90s or a regular wife and bring nothing but listen to him complain or, most likely, I’ll just be myself, and smack him shouting “I told you so” in his face every time he whimpers or asks for a BandAid to put on his blisters. I might even flick him in the nipple after I say that, just for shits and giggles.
  • I am planning on being drunk before I arrive. I just feel like I deserve it, you know? Mommy needs a stiff one. Seriously, do you know the last time I drank? I don’t mean like a glass of wine, because that was 2 nights ago. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten good and tipsy that I’ve never even sent a drunk text, I’ve only made phone calls. Harry and I already negotiated the driving situation and here’s how it will work – Harry can drink just enough to loosen up for his speech (which he won’t let me write even though I’d clearly win him some sort of best man of the year award or something) and then he has to stop drinking after the speech is over. I get to drink from before the wedding to after the wedding. That’s the deal. We shook on it. What will actually happen? My mommy and daddy will drive us home and pay the babysitter and tuck us in.
  • My work husband will also be there. So will Charlie and Nicole. We are going to dance to Mr. Brightside. I know this because I told Jimmy that he had to play it at his wedding or I would fire him. That’s the best part about a work wedding when you’re the boss. It’s sort of like you’re more special than the groom or the bride! Me, Charlie, Nicole and Ryan are going to have some sort of good time. The last time the four of us hung out for a night I woke up in a heart shaped bed in some motel in Pennsylvania next to a guy wearing a wetsuit. No wait, that wasn’t them… but it was me….
  • Our resident “Mom” waitress is bringing her hot husband. Seeing as Harry will be occupied with best manly responsibilities, I will be forced to dance with him. Just kidding, because Nicole would never allow that. She’s very protective over him and says that if anyone is going to flirt with the hot dad it’s gonna be her. I don’t think she’s kidding and I do believe she would throw elbows and possibly fists if I tested her. Plus if I have to choose one man to dance with other than my husband (who I’m assuming will be otherwise occupied doing things like cutting the groom’s steak and pouring him beers and carrying his train and shit like that) it would be Charlie of course!
  • My dress may or may not be too short. I just felt like the single most important role for the best man is to have a hot bitch on his arm. I went shopping for the occasion and I found this dress that’s like the perfect combination between a Floridian MILF in the 1980s and a Cabbage Patch Kid outfit. I can’t figure out why they only included half the fabric they were supposed to, but it’s a festive frock and I’m going to do my damn best to not expose my lady parts and/or Spanx.
  • My parents and Harry’s parents are going. This is unfortunate, because I will probably disappoint both moms eternally with my slutbag dress and drunken antics. Luckily, their expectations are probably pretty low at this point. I mean, if I were my kid I’d personally be proud as hell because I’m so fucking beautiful, talented and intelligent. But I guess I’m just being biased.

Poetry Tuesday! Tonight, a haiku to delight the senses!

Fuck 9-5.

My nights are empty

Without Gay Asian Waiter

And Nicole at work.

pop-up redux: the shelbytown supper club strikes again….

24 Jun

Aaah the lovely days of summer! Nothing like slowing’ it all down for some relaxation. Unless you’re me. I personally am really not one for a stress free calendar. It gives me hives and makes me want to drown myself in xanax and spider solitaire. My productivity levels sort of equate to how I play tennis – If I play someone who’s competitive and skilled to the gills, I hit the ball so hard and so precise that you’d think I’m some sort of phenom (I am). But if I play a suckhead who lobs the balls and can’t serve for shit, then I, too, lob the ball and serve like shit. Same thing with work. If I’ve got a to-do list that’s as long as a roll of toilet paper and only 3 days to do it, I’m a machine and will get it done with nearly seven minutes to spare. However, if I have two things to do whenever and not much else planned, I will piss around for weeks without accomplishing those two bullets, no matter how simple (google “drink recipes involving marshmallow flavored vodka” and make photocopies of the takeout menus). These days it seems like my work week consists of a whole lot of pouring glasses of water for myself, misplacing them, pouring more, misplacing those, complaining about the random glasses scattered about the restaurant and polishing the beer tower on a daily basis. I need some fucking stress to liven up my mood! And I’m not talking about your run of the mill medium-high blood pressure stress. I am talking about insanely pressurized, mostly self-induced, horrible, irritating run-for-the-border AFFLICTION.

In other words, it’s time to start planning a pop-up!!! I’ve been floating some ideas around, mostly based on the slogan I’ll write on the t-shirt. Here are some contenders. Let me know if you’d like to attend one of them and I’ll set a date straight away! Please keep in mind that, like Hashbrown Harry’s, which actually did take place, this popup will be a real thing.

  • Habanero Harry’s – A Mexican inspired pop-up, of course. Menu entirely consisting of traditional Latin ingredients, but concocted in a way that will confuse and delight your taste buds! Each course will consist of a different pepper and a different tequila. A mariachi band, and possibly a donkey, will provide the entertainment. Servers will wear oversize sombreros, take a siesta between courses and offer you 175 different types of hot sauce to enhance your already delicious meal. The t-shirt will say…
  • Hamburger Harry’s – Do I really need to explain this concept to you? If I do, then you are not intelligent enough to be reading my blog and I hate you. How did you even find this? Do you even know how to read? You’re so stupid I don’t know why they sold you a smartphone. Anyway, every course will be paired with a different type of french fry and a spiked version of a traditional soda fountain drink. The bread will be baked by my daddy-o, who will have a temper tantrum halfway through the process when the dough doesn’t rise and he will through it across the room and buy rolls from a local deli and I’ll get like totally mad at him. The servers will wear roller skates and the entertainment will be that we will set up an obstacle course for them to get through before they can bring the food to the table. Also there will be a barbershop quartet singing Coldplay and Phish covers. There will be a toppings bar that is identical to that of Roy Rogers and the t-shirts will say…


  • Challah Harry’s – 8 Crazy Courses of recipes adapted from my Grandma Helen and Nana Carol. My mom will be there to make you feel guilty if you don’t eat everything on your plate, and the servers will wear variations of my Bat Mitzvah dress. Entertainment will have to be BYO because what do I look like? Do I look like I’m made of money? Does this look like a circus to you? We will have a fiddler playing the horah for all who are interested. However he’ll (obv) be on the roof so I don’t know if it’s necessarily wheelchair accessible. Drinks will all be concocted with Manischevitz. Ew. T-shirts will say…


  • Haunted Harry’s – Possibly more appropriate for Halloweentime, but I perhaps I’ll throw people for a loop and do it in the summertime. Food will be served in the complete dark. It will all resemble human body parts (although probably very little will be made with actual human, because it’s really expensive and I want to keep the cost down). Drinks will mostly be made of absinthe and cough syrup. Entertainment will be people whispering threatening things in your ears and grazing their fingers across the back of your neck. Also we will play “Is there anybody out there” from The Wall because, as many of my readers are already aware of, that is the most terrifying song in the history of the world. Servers will wear Jason masks and carry chainsaws. The t-shirts will say….


  • Hibachi Harry’s – This will be a classic Asian meal featuring traditional Benihanan cuisine, except it will be a fusion of American food thrown in, so instead of regular wontons, maybe there will be bacon cheeseburger wontons. And instead of fried rice there will be fried Rice Krispies. Stuff like that. Charlie will make a surprise appearance and be serving this over the top Asian Adventure. He will wear a kimono and bang a gong between every course. Entertainment will be in the form of happy ending massages. The t-shirt will say….

Obviously all of these popups will come to fruition, I tend to not fuck around when it comes to creating a restaurant inside another restaurant for one night only. If you truly prefer one to the other (I think we’re all on the same page that the happy ending one is pretty appealing…) leave a comment and let me know. Or  you can also let me know if you’re inspired with your own idea and/or location and would like to popup a Shelbytown Supper Club someplace by you (think barn/open field/unfinished basement/pontoon boat) and then your lifelong dream of having me blog about you can finally come true!!!!

yo ho!

30 May

Something really interesting about me is that I get like totally bored if there’s no drama or action going on, and right now there’s just none of it. The restaurant has been steady, my parents and the kids are behaving themselves, the sun is shining….nothing is out of sync. Some people would enjoy this slice of normal and do things like clean their closet or go to a gym or catch up on reading, but not me. I am just not nearly distracted enough to get anything done. I can’t work in this quiet. It’s horrible! Today I stared at a computer screen for 45 minutes. It wasn’t even on. In fact, it wasn’t even attached to a computer. I just couldn’t remember what I was doing because what I was doing was something totally mundane like eating pretzels and drinking a gallon of lemon water and adding things on a calculator.

I’ve decided that I need to come up with a list of things to do when there’s not enough drama. This is all intended to create unnecessary stress in my life and/or destroy relationships with those around me. Here’s what I’ve got:

  1. Open another popup restaurant. Habanero Harry’s may have to come to fruition sooner rather than later. Or Hashbrown Harry’s needs to make a second appearance. Perhaps an outdoor location? Shall we begin looking? I think so!
  2. Become a pirate. The other day Harry and I took the kids to Greenport to see “The Tall Ships,” which is basically a fancy way of saying a bunch of really old pirate looking vessels. As we approached one very rickety one, we spotted a sign next to it that said “Join our crew and sail to the Cook Islands!” Harry and I rock, paper, scissored and I won which means I get to become a pirate and live on a mattress made of hay for 6 months while I sail the world, acquire an Australian accent and grow dreadlocks, while Harry stays home cooking, cleaning, working full time and rearing our children. I’ll bring him home nice souvenirs though.
  3. Go back to school. I have literally no desire or reason or money to do this. But the thought of getting a second chance at good grades seems so appealing. Also college gear is so cool, and my Syracuse sticker is starting to peel off my back windshield and rather than replace it with what I’ve already got, it would be super cool to have a new sticker to stick. Also I would like to make younger friends, because they know where all the good parties are in the summertime and I like feeling like a role model so I can do things like buy beer for my new little friends and they’ll all think I’m the coolest!
  4. Become a weed dealer. I know I keep talking about it. I should probably just do it already, it’s so ridiculous I’m even getting tired of hearing it. Will somebody PLEASE order the chicken tacos at the restaurant?? I’m dying to get this shit off my hands! I’m not trying to go to jail, just make a couple extra bucks so I want to make sure I do this the professional and smart way. Maybe I’ll get in a practice run at the Dave Matthews Concert and sell chicken tacos in the parking lot. Which leads me to….
  5. Become a street food vendor. I really think that this may be the best course of action for me. Other than a stray speeding ticket here and there, I’ve got a great driving record, so a food truck is probably a logical direction that I should take my business savvy in. Perhaps my brunch truck “The Screwdriver” can come to your next Bar Mitzvah or tailgating party or miscellaneous soiree.

I don’t know. Only thoughts only thoughts. Realistically I think we all know that the only possibility is that I become a pirate. As soon as the sunburn on my back goes away, I’m climbin’ aboard.

how my blog became a best selling novel and film franchise in 93 short (long) posts.

2 May

Today was one of those unexpectedly busy busy busy days that start with me buying a venti Starbucks iced green tea with one sweet n low, and next thing I know I’m sitting down (in a leisurely way, not a worky or drivey way) for the very first time at 12:33am. Well technically laying down because today has simply exhausted my puffy little body and sitting upright simply isn’t an option.
Things I did today were fist fight with my father over putting a cotton candy milkshake (topped with ACTUAL COTTON CANDY) on the menu, (poll arriving shortly on that one) Google the most recent Lady Antebellum and Darius Rucker set lists so I’ll be prepared to sing along at the concert on Thursday, book like 55 parties (or 2 if you want the unexaggerated version) and schmoozed some customers I hadn’t seen in awhile. Now that I’m writing it down it doesn’t seem like I did much of anything at all. I was really really busy. I just can’t remember the rest of the shit I was doing it because there was so much physical labor involved that it clearly drained all my energy.

I got a message from a friend who didn’t make it to Hashbrown Harry’s because he’s like totally super flaky or whatever, so I thought I would post the menu from the other night to show him (and thousandsssss of others) what he missed:


In other news, I got a manicure yesterday and I asked the Lady for some sort of “fun design in black and white” on my ring fingers. So now I have some weird asshole zen garden kindergarten drawing on my fingers and my brother and sister-in-law are totally going to make fun of me when they see me at our cousin’s wedding on Saturday and my life is ruined. Good thing I have a really swanky clearance rack Jessica Simpson (woo hoo you had your baby after being preggers for 9 years!!!!) neon dress that’s two sizes too big on me to distract from my ugly nails. I’m going to get a blowout at my organic hair place (they use scissors “of the earth”) and it’s going to look fab and all will be right with the world.

Also in other news, next week is slated to be my 100th post!!! I know what you’re thinking, and I really don’t know what the focus of this blog is yet, either. What I do know is that in a few short months, it has spawned a pop-up restaurant, an uber exclusive soon-to-launch supper club and a multi-billion dollar movie franchise starring the girl from Girls as me and Marshall from “How I met your mother” as Harry and Zac Efron as Charlie. In celebration of my 100th post, I’ll be giving away an official Hashbrown Harry’s t-shirt to one totally lucky lucky lucky reader. Seeing as I’ve never done a contest before, I have no idea how it works. So how about If you comment on this post and give me an idea of how to approach the contest, then you’re automatically entered? Seems fair enough, don’t you think? After reading my blah blah blah all this time, don’t you think you should suck it up and say something back? I thought so.
Xoxo gossip girl.

hashbrown harry’s: a photo extravaganza

29 Apr

So last night unless you are one of the lucky few, you missed out on a pretty fucking cool night, if you ask me. Like there wasn’t a hitch. It was nuts.
Here are some photos, which will make you totally excited for the next popup, Halapeño Harry’s. Different time, same place. The shelbytown Supper Club. Open for business!





















Thanks so much to Missy and Bethany for your mad instagram skills.

I’ll post details tomorrow. Right now I’m vegging on the couch, eating brownies and watching celebrity apprentice with Harry. Doesn’t get much better.

Ps. Yes I’m dead serious about the shelbytown Supper Club.

i’ll do anything for twenty bucks. go ahead. try me. on second thought don’t try me, i’m totally lying.

27 Apr

Tomorrow is the opening (and closing!) night of Hashbrown Harry’s, so don’t expect anything I write tonight to make sense because I am delirious and visions of pancakes are floating through my head. I feel really ready. Are there some things that I’m completely unprepared for? Yes! Do I think it’s going to be a total disaster? A little bit! Do my eggshell candles look INSANELY AMAZING? Fuck yes they do. Am I staring at a pile of beautifully colored compostable spoons? Why yes I am! And a stack of berry baskets that tomorrow evening will hold fresh baked buttermilk biscuits? You got it! Did I spent $26 on olives today because the pressure I’m feeling to make the perfect bloody mary is unparalleled? Certainly! Are the olives officially the only ingredients I have for the drink? Other than vodka, you bet! Are olives really only considered a garnish and not an ingredient? Some might say this is the case! Does that mean I officially have no ingredients and I’m just going to serve shots of vodka with olives floating on top? You can bet on it!

Ok I’m done. Tomorrow should be interesting to say the least. And actually, by the time this post gets published it will technically be today (eeeeek!!!!). I’ll probably just sleep at the restaurant tonight, because the only people left in the building are these bitches who are sitting in the middle of the dining room, completely preventing me from being able to set up for the first birthday party that’s tomorrow morning. I just don’t get it? You know what I also don’t get? How one of my friends sent me a note on Facebook about how she was sitting at a restaurant having dinner, and a dude LITERALLY PAID HER $20 to pay and leave so they could have the extra room. Like, I just don’t get why I never get paid off to do shit. I’d do pretty much anything for twenty bucks. Stop being a perv, I mean I would pay and leave anyplace. I mean, usually I don’t want to be where I am anyway (this particular friend might feel similarly, which is why she excepted the cash and skedaddled).

Things that are freaking me out right now is that I only have 17 songs on my playlist for tomorrow, and three of them are different versions of Mr. Bojangles. Also, I left my mom in charge of the pot brownies.

Ok, I’ve gotta go stare at these women until they get the hint. Because sitting in a completely silent and empty restaurant apparently isn’t clear enough that it’s time to go.

Just in case you aren’t coming tomorrow (unsupportive assholes, how dare you have other plans or live out of state) my sister-sister Missy will be taking photos of all the action and posting a live feed on Instagram. She’s totally a hipster-who-hates-all-other-hipsters so lord only knows which filters she’s going to use on that shit. All I know is that you can check it all out. My user name is SHELBYTOWN. I know, totally clever.

PS. My dad bought a fake Rolex on his vacation. It has a yellow strap, because according to him “it’s a Limited Edition NASCAR Rolex.” My mom is so proud (read: confused by his behavior sometimes). If you pass him on the street, you should check out his fake Rolex. Tap on the fake glass and tell him (fakely) how cool his new timepiece is.

PPS. He also bought Riley a tricycle today so I should probably be nicer to him. Your new timepiece is really cool, Dad. I think it might be real.


pot brownies without certain ingredients are just drugs.

26 Apr

I am sooooo exhausted today that I cried at the following times:

  1. Listening to Lionel Richie and Darius Rucker sing “Stuck On You” because I guess I’m gonna be with Harry ’til the end.
  2. When I replayed Stuck on You for Harry and asked him to dance and he said no.
  3. When the Rangers won the 7th game, out of happiness, and I’m an Islander fan (shut up) so that was weird.
  4. I looked at the mess I made in the kitchen.
  5. The girl I don’t like (because she NEVER SMILES) got kicked off Idol and I felt sad for her.
  6. When I saw my babygirl waiting for me at the front door clapping and jumping up and down. Everyday I’m too busy to hang with her all day I fear that she’ll go pee pee on the potty without me being there and it will destroy me for all eternity. I’m considering removing it from the house until Hashbrown Harry’s is dunzo so I don’t miss out on this momentous occasion.
  7. In the middle of Trader Joe’s, because I couldn’t remember what I needed. It was butter. It took me 25 minutes to remember. I had a $20 bill. Somehow I didn’t have enough money. Why does that place have to be so stressful???


  1. CARROT BREAD – You know that stuff that you get as a special treat that’s like a sugar scrub, and it’s like something grainy and something oily and you wash your hands or entire body with it and your skin feels soooooo smooth after? Picture that with a bunch of shredded carrots in it, and that’s what the dough looked like.
  2. SPECIAL BROWNIES –  It turns out you need brownie mix, not just pot.


  1. We got a box filled with t-shirts delivered!!!!!! I’d post a photo but the shirt is on the arm of a chair that’s out of my reach, and I’m way too tired to go get it. Take my word, they’re fucking awesome and you are going to want one like woah.
  2. Harry made sour cherry Pop Tart filling and jam in baby mason jars.
  3. I got secret ingredients for my bloody marys (my sis-in-law and her sister [my sister-sister] have freaked me out with their high bloody mary standards and I’m not going to sleep until I create a perfect recipe, not that I’ll know if it’s perfect because I don’t even like those things. The only thing that happens when I drink one is that I want a shrimp.)
  4. I can’t focus long enough to remember what I was talking about. Sorry. Next time I pop up a restaurant remind me that it’s a stupid stupid stupid idea.


100 billion.  Add 5 because I miss Charlie. Subtract 40K because I’m seeing him tomorrow.

selling weed with a one-footed teletubby and a baker with a ‘stache is the only way i’m ever going to be happy again.

24 Apr

Last night I stayed up until 3am doing paperwork, folding laundry and shaving taper candles to melt for my illuminated eggs. At 4, Riley decided that she would like to play. That was the highlight of my day.

There are officially 6 seats left on Saturday night. I think you should come if only for the humor and music. Check out the current menu…


1. HOMEMADE FRUIT LOOPS AGAIN, THIS TIME STRAWBERRY/RASPBERRY.  I think my standards are possibly too high, in that the loops don’t taste exactly like the completely

2. STAND MIXER.  It’s made to break into 35 pieces, right? On the week when you’re actually going to use it?

3. 30 PERSON LUNCHEON. I staffed it, made sure the table was set, got to the restaurant early to print the menus. Only they never came. Because the luncheon is tomorrow.

4. GETTING INTO MY CAR.  I left the supermarket, unlocked my mom’s car (which I have put approximately 43,000 miles on in the past 10 days) and got inside, only to be attacked by the nasty stench of cigarettes and odd feel of cloth seats. Because I climbed into someone else’s car. At least it’s better than the time I did that during carpool and there was a strange parent in it telling me to get out.


1. WORKED ON THE HASHBROWN HARRY’S SPOTIFY LIST. So far it’s a few versions of the old “Weeds” theme song, (if you don’t know it I feel super bad for you, because Nancy Botwin is a badass chick who you should all strive to be more like except for the part where she’s a semi-abusive mom and was once married to a Mexican drug cartel leader/politician/scary-yet-sexy guy.) Beatles covers, Champagne Supernova by Oasis, and anything with the words pancakes or eggs or bacon or quinoa in it.

2. NOTHING. The only thing I bought today was a Starbucks because I needed comfort.

2. HOWEVER… I did have an impressively stimulating conversation with some future employees when I become a rich and famous weed dealer. We won’t just sell drugs, but also drugs in the form of elaborate baked goods. The restaurant will of course be the front to our Fakery. The code word for selling our goods will be when someone orders “the chicken tacos.”  One is going to wear a 1-footed Teletubby costume (which apparently he sports every Halloween while teaching elementary aged children but he wants to repurpose it) and he is going to raise his eyebrows sketchily up and down as his signal that he’s got your weed. The other will tell you “try our favorite green salad!” with enthusiasm and a friendly smile. Her uniform will most likely be a baker’s hat and fake mustache. I’ll keep you posted.


 1. I WILL SLEEP THROUGH THE ENTIRE DAY. This is completely possible. Why don’t they make Ambien for toddlers? Yet another thing in life that I’ll never understand.

2. A DOG WILL EAT MY FRUIT LOOPS.  This is almost a guarantee.

3. HARRY WILL DIVORCE ME BECAUSE I NEED TO MAKE ANOTHER BATCH OF FRUIT LOOPS. Then what will I name the damn Pop-up?? Shelby’s House of Hash??? (hmmm…..)


4. I’m way too tired to count higher than that.