vivere per dire: September 2010

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Saturday, September 18, 2010

"I have a crush on..." series: Evan Rachael Wood

I've had the big-time hots for Evan Rachael Wood since the release of the cultish teen flick Thirteen (2003), which I watched almost every day during my summer break before my first year at Sarah Lawrence. Her performance as a wayward teen that becomes drug-addled and oversexed jived with my hope to study psychology or women's studies in the future (I studied the classics instead and segued into literature and Italian--woops). She struck me as a captivating vessel through which flowed so much anger, disarray, and brilliance. She's absolutely gorgeous, too, in case you didn't notice! Holly Hunter, another crush of mine, plays her (soooo sexy) mother, who attempts to protect her daughter from the dangers of a wild life while simultaneously trying NOT to oppress her. She fails, and watches as the porcelain-skinned Evan Rachael becomes an unmotivated, pierced, deflowered, wasted, wrist-cutting (did I leave anything out? Oh yes, anorexic.) little unfortunate girl.

Flash-forward to six years later (AGH!), and there I am, innocently watching the second season

of my latest--and most embarrassing--obsession, True Blood. There she was, sucking blood from the femoral artery of one of her people-treats, Sophie-Ann, Vampire Queen of Louisianna. I almost screamed: "Wait. IS THAT EVAN RACHAEL WOOD!? YES!" Needless to say, she's on fire with fangs, blood, fucking sass, the whole bit. She's got an old-time charm about her (probably because she's like really, really old as vampires tend to be), that works like magic and keeps your mouth watering. Her eyes burn right into your brain, so much so that she doesn't even have to "glamor" you (oh God what a nerd I've become!).

I love you, Evan Rachael. But I guess Marilyn Manson, your fiancé, loves you more :(

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Swallowing in Hollywood

Our first night out was at the Saddle Ranch Chop House on the Sunset Strip, which was an easy break from my vegetarian tendencies (for which I'm mercilessly scorned by my dear brother). I picked a delectable chicken tortilla soup, which was spicy, crunchy and warm. The rest of our party ordered hardy steaks (extra fries and hold the vegetables, please), while I foolishly went with the fish tacos. This was a bad choice for two reasons: 1. I had never had a fish taco before in my life. 2. As Alex kindly pointed out to me, one should probably not order the fish tacos at a steakhouse. The taste was bitter, and of course, fishy, and the texture strangely chewy. That put me in my place. Luckily, we were granted free desserts that included cherry-flavored cotton-candy (that tasted like cough medicine), and then an awesome brownie ala mode. The steak-eaters were plenty satisfied, and I managed to keep my spirits up with a glass of red wine :)
We were strongly encouraged by my father to try In-N-Out Burger, a staple of California fast-food. This was step II of my hiatus from vegetarianism (or even healthy eating) and my first burger in two years. The verdict? The combination of cheeseburger, chocolate shake, and french fry in my mouth brought back memories of childhood trips to McDonalds. Other than that, I felt slightly undernourished and burpy. The burger had a satisfying crunch from the lettuce, and an overall cheesy taste, but the patty was thin and unsubstantial. What saved it was their special sauce (russian dressing and mayo?) and the fresh-cut fries in ketchup. It was yummy nostaglia.
One evening, Dan and I took our long-lost chum Erin, who lives in Fountain Valley, to the lovely O-Bar Santa Monica Blvd. This one was a straight-up Yelp success story. Our waiter treated us like an old friend, especially when he pointed out the sparseness--but amazing taste--of a grilled cheese appetizer that we ordered. Small though it was, one bite for everyone of the toasty tangy concoction was worth it. Erin ordered a chicken dish with rosemary, Dan (beyond doubt) the $13 burger, and I had penne with beef tenderloin. We were stunned, and our conversation changed from high-school gossip to the quality of our meals. My penne was hardy, but I nearly ate the whole thing. It was savory and not over-seasoned, with fresh vegetables (there they are!) and juicy stips of tenderloin. Our wine selections (Erin a Pinot Noir and me a Cabernet--Dan an Amstel Light?) went very well with it all. My only complaint was the dark ambiance which is supposed to, I assume, create an air of intimacy. Instead, I wasn't able to decipher anyone's facial expressions. We felt a bit distant...

Joe and Al recommended that we try a Mexican place they liked, Borracho Cantina, on Sunset Blvd. The place was beautifully decked-out in a "Dia de los Muertos" theme and we sat outside, where heaters were strategically placed for diners (I'm sorry, but can you BELIEVE Hollywood needs HEATERS for outdoor dining!?). I ordered a red sangria that tasted like lime seltzer. It was gross and barely alcoholic! But the food made up for it. I ordered a plate of two tacos: one vegetable and one chicken. They both came topped with tasty cheese and avocados. I wolfed them down. The tortillas were different than any other I've had: doughy, fresh, AND you can taste the cornmeal they're made from. Much different than the plasticky soft-shells you find in New York Mexican. Once again the waiter brought over a free dessert of churros and chocolate sauce, which my brother slurped down with a straw. The busboy recommended that we try the tres leches cake, which was so strong and dense that we could only have one piece each (okay fine, I finished the damn thing when everyone else gave up). It was stupendous, and I don't think I've actually ever used that word, let alone for a dessert.