Vintage Tuesday: The Ice Boy Cometh

First and foremost; new hairdo y'all!!

Now... Allow me to introduce...the baddest, ice-coldest, mint-freshest hipster in the land: my little brother.  As part of his induction into hipster society, I took him thrifting for vintage goodies in old Deerfield Beach and he spotted this classic wooden coca-cola bottle crate. The boy already has an eye for vintage!

SCIENCE!

 (Don't ask...but kudos to you if you get my random reference!)

 I'm going to Zooey Deschanel the daylight out of this crate. The next time you see this, potted daisies will be sprouting out of it.

CRAFT TIME!

"Rain, Pouring. All my Cars is Foreign."

FINALLY got around to decorating the office (6 months later!). 

Hehehe now I'm feeling so swaagnificently full of myself, posting titles that have nothing to do with the matter and jamming on Kanye's Lamborghini Mercy like a boss.
Ahh, the power of Kate Spade, Flowers, and a FIERCE Beyonce poster. 

NYC on Business: 50 Shades of Cray

The Misadventures of a Blogger in NYC

Warning: This entry is NOT about how I met some strange, mercurial, billionare who took me down a kinky rabbit hole of whips and chains. And how we all listened to Rihanna's "S&M" song for the whole ideal. This trip to NYC was for business, not reenactments of 50 Shades of Grey. Ha! The closest I got to Christian Grey this week was meeting a young lawyer at a bar who has no idea J and I have created an entirely twisted backstory for him involving a sad childhood, deviant predilections, and yes, a red playroom. Poor Fiddy Esq

Ich Bin ein Berliner Does Not Mean What's in Your Wallet

German Bread Haus- The most amazing bakery in South Florida

There are two completly different realities of what happend yesterday. Yeserday I decided to make a blog trip to THE best bakery in South Florida, or at least Broward County: German Bread Haus. This little hidden gem is tucked away in Fort Laudedale, about a stoplight east of I-95 and Commercial Blvd. 

Yesterday I boarded a train in Berlin, likely headed for some clandestine mission to an ex Soviet country and armed with a stun gun and a wallet full of fake identities. 

Orgasmic Poppy Seed Pastry

I discovered this bakery last weekend and I've been raving about it ever since. Freshly baked treats sprinkled with whole grains and organic goodness. The fresh bread is delicious and the desserts...gah! The desserts are honestly too fantastic for me to even attempt to describe. Everything is baked fresh with love and organic flour. Walk in and the scent of warm sugar and wheat envelope you. 

The two realities converged somewhere between me biting into a warm, coconut filled, chocolate cookie delivered fresh from the oven by a young man I like to call "real life Peeta", and perusing the adorable little comic book store next door. 

Well you haven't made it big until someone in Europe has hacked into your bank account. And apparently while I was picking out gingerbread men at German Bread Haus, my card was actually racking up charges in Germany, boarding trains in Berlin and all that jazz. My adorably dorky friend (Dan) reminded me that only spies board trains in Berlin (that's how much TV we watch). He's right. Obviously there's some serious espionage going on. Espionage involving Eastern European thugs in tracksuits. 

Fresh Apple Strudel. Hot out the oven

While my bank investigates I plan on living off of apple strudel. 

I'm going to keep updating with weekly post as part of my new Broward County Treasures series. As you know, I spent the summer discovering cool things to do in South Florida like the Art Walk and grape stomping. Now I'm going to focus on discovering what there is to do around these parts (Broward) besides dying of old age! 

Stay tuned. 

NYC P1: There's No Walk Of Shame on Madison Ave.

As I sit in West Harlem reflecting over the past couple days, I cannot bring myself to regret the past 48 hours, or decisions that led me to sitting here, rendered an invalid for all intents and purposes, and salving the pain of my now crippled feet by stuffing my face with $50 Parisian cookies from Maison Laduree. Last night I dined like a queen in Union Square with Wall Street investors, analysts, and the like. Today I'm eating like Marie Antoinete. I ask myself, "Who funds these exquisite overtures?" Do I have some Park Ave. residing patroness of my Blog who sprinkles fairy dust into my wallet for the sole purpose of amusing herself with my later recantings? Or will the vikings of Chase bank be at my door at any moment. Because I sure don't have any explanation for how these trips/excursions keep popping up.

Last night I dined at Casa Mono, a tapas restaurant. Tapas is the Spaniard's version of an expensive practical joke in which waiters serve one single pea on a plate to a large table given heaps of champagne and red wine, and proceed to watch their patrons fight with knives and forks to the death over the last morsel. It's kinda like Hunger Games, only I didnt read that book and have no idea if that reference is even close. The only way to keep from killing your friends is to order 3-4 plates per person and pretend to be civilized as your date goes for the last bite of fried bunny.

As for the food, no expense is spared. Every wild game imaginable is on the menu: rabbit, ox, fox--whatever. My entirely middle class self tried things like rabbit, quale egg with truffles, and something called 'sweet breads' for the first time and I loved it so much, my next boyfriend will probably have to be some ax weilding huntsman able to supply me with an endless supply of wild game.

Behold! My Black Friday Loot!

Stacks on Stacks on Stacks

For the first time in my life, I allowed myself to get yanked, out of my post-thanksgiving slumber, into Black Friday Foolishness. Many of the huge electronics stores opened at midnight while Forever21, Victoria Secret and Express started their doorbuster deals at 4am. 

Here's my post Black Friday Wrap-up. 

Where Were You On 9/11?

Painting by: Michael Perez

There is so much to be said about September 11, 2001 and so much that surely will be said today as we somberly remember that terrifying day. This isn’t going to be a long post. I just want to take some time to remember where I was ten years ago and how that day still affects me today.

2001 I was a freshman in high school. I remember walking into my 2nd period Spanish class and seeing that the TV was already on. My Spanish teacher was visibly upset and I remember not fully understanding what was wrong or why she was stammering to us that class would be a free period while gluing her eyes to said TV. 

Never Been Kissed: University, Frat Boys, and the Spies Who Love Them

As many may know, I graduated from Florida State University way back in 2009. And I’ve been a line marching, hum-drum beating, member of the adult society’s fold for quite awhile now. Well…that was before I went to Europe and came back to start living la vie boheme, or, as in we say in South Florida, La Vida Broka. Life has become quite interesting… in a good way. So… keeping with my newfound tradition of doing random things to blog about, I spent last week infiltrating my old University. Tallahassee: a Neverland filled with the Lost Homeboys; devoid of adults, a party city and a football town where pants are always optional and girls with pillow pets are old enough to drink. I was older, wiser, and most of all, I had mastered the art of coquetry.

London Rioters Attack the Block

We in the US don’t know WHAT is going on over there or why. Is it because someone got shot, forgot tea time, shortage of PS3’s FIFA game?? Clearly everyone’s been watching Attack the Block and getting ideas.

This kind of anarchy could only be the work of apes--apes from outer space.

Allow it, brov. ;)

BTW…

Of Heartbeak and Men: Shakespeare Had It Right

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,

Men were deceivers ever;

One foot in sea, and one on shore,

To one thing constant never.

Then sigh not so,

But let them go,

And be you blith and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into Hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo

Of dumps so dull and heavy;

The fraud of men was ever so,

Since summer first was leavy.

Then sigh not so,

But let them go,

And be you blith and bonny,

Converting all your sounds of woe

Into Hey nonny, nonny.

(William Shakespeare)

Summer Days: Owling vs Planking

On a sunny Tuesday in suburban South Florida, we bourgeoisie like to congregate, en masse, in lofty little plazas where a Starbucks sign seems almost vulgar among the other stores.
  

Date Rape and Stolen Parts

Today I accompanied my friend to the mechanic to get her car tuned up and somehow ended up on a strange adventure that culminated with our mechanic revealing to us that he was a victim of date rape.