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My misadventures on display for all to read.

[The Listserve] My Other Left Breast. Or a Reason to Meet in Chicago Over Cheese

“This is an e-mail lottery. One person a day wins a chance to write to the growing list of subscribers. It could be you.”
— thelistserve.com

It's not often the average person gets a second chance at winning. Well, I guess I am no longer average. Because this is the second time that I have won the drawing for the Listserve.

The last time I heard from Zena Koo, I was in NYC on holiday in 2015 when I wrote about being single and accidentally exposing myself to the guy that took me to a pool hall for an online date. I received an overwhelming amount of responses, from men, women. Single. Dating. Near and far. I even received offers for dates. On Skype. In person. Via email. Then there were the people who asked me to write guest posts on their blogs. And those that wrote email exchanges lasted for days at a time. It was a joy to read other stories from people, but then I got too busy. Busy with the New Year. Busy with the rest of my life. Graduate school started again, deprioritizing anything beyond a hundred mile radius. I didn't make time to update my blog. Didn't add the new subscribers from the Listserve readership who requested updates about my life. Readers were gracious enough to visit my blog. Thousands of views on my site dropped to dozens. An opportunity lost to share more comedy, to nurture new relationships, and to potentially fall in. Out. And back into love.

Over the last twenty months, I thought about how I had potentially squandered something great. How I had not done enough to keep a unique experience alive. I thought about it in the shower. On a trip I had taken this summer to Southeast Asia, Africa, Europe and Iceland. There were many new unique moments, like thinking I would die from being stung by a jellyfish in the Philippines, skimming my knee in Myanmar on my first ever motorbike ride, staring at hot Irish guys with man buns, and looking for remnants of Thor in glaciers and cliffs. Despite all of that, I still daydreamed about what if I the Listserve to do all over again. What would I have done?

With that, I propose a challenge. MEET ME AND MY COVERED BOSOMS IN CHICAGO for the Grate Cheese Caper of 2016. A picnic where we feast on cheese. If you don't eat cheese, bring fancy crackers, If you don't eat crackers, bring wine. And if you don't consume any of those delicious treats, we may have to have a soul reflection together where I better understand your hesitation for joy and grateness. In the meantime, grab your blanket and head to the destination below. Rain or shine.

ADDRESS:  Waveland Picnic Field, Chicago, IL 60613
GPS COORDINATES: 41.951474, -87.640569
DATE: Saturday, September 10th, 2016
TIME: 1:00pm - 3:00pm CST
HASHTAG: #gratecheesecaper2016

Perhaps I will be fortunate enough to spend this second chance with you. I sure do hope so.

Living a life full of gratitude, cheese, and flimsy breasts.

Meesh
catholicgelt[AT]gmail.com
Chicago, IL

 
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Don't Look A Gift Horse In The Mouth

unless that's your mouth noshing on a gift horse.

When Swedish Lief moved in, we decided to take our first trip to IKEA, the land of plenty. We dressed in our finest attire. Swedish Lief wore a yellow soccer jersey from Sweden, while I adorned a Heineken t-shirt and white cowboy hat.

First stop: the IKEA cafeteria. We decided to sample all of the basics. Swedish Lief and I put sanity aside for the IKEA demi-gods, DINERA, ASKHOLMEN, nd FARTFULL. We found out that families repeatedly ate at IKEA since they can pay under $10/person for a massive tray of food. Wild to learn that horse meat could be so affordable.*

The IKEA Triple Crown. It's all fun and meatballs, until you find out you ate Hidalgo.

​Once we pownd the meatballs, we packed up the extras to begin our search for Swedish Lief's desk. After about twenty minutes of passing by a dozen fake rooms, I couldn't take it anymore. I seriously zoned out on a bed and Swedish Lief went off on her own. A few customers asked Swedish Lief for directions and price checks because her yellow soccer jersey and jeans matched the IKEA employee uniform. She told me that some of those same customers stared at me, thinking that I needed a store buddy since I had clearly lost my way.

Look, I would expect no less from any of you.  ​All I have to say is that when you are marching around a giant warehouse holding thirty minute old horse balls, you start losing your mind. The balls start to smell and no garbage can in sight is an actual can for garbage. They are props, people. It's all props! You won't find me saddling up to go to IKEA any time soon. I guarantee it!

That's better.​

*No horses were harmed in the making of this meal, or so we assume. The horse scare happened across the pond in February.

**If you would like a recipe for Apple Piebald, I suggest you find a real food recipe at Willow Bird Baking, an award winning food blogger and friend.

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Tally's Hookers to the Rescue

Last weekend, Monk Francais visited me and Swedish Lief for a three day trip to Montreal. That trip came to a grinding halt in Gloucester, MA, less than 100 miles from home and within AAA free towing limits.

 

It all began with a late brunch stop over in Newburyport. Swedish Lief witnessed our mixologist pour the vodka for a hefty four seconds before adding the blood orange to my cosmo. Efficient and ideal for a one drink wonder, such as myself. 

After exploring Newburyport, we made our way to the next seaside town. In route, Monk Francais heard a loud grinding near the front, right tire. Playing with death, Swedish Lief violently pumped the breaks three times. That's when the breaks went out completely.

Car still in working order.

Tally's Hookers is a tow truck company that can lift submarines, railway cars, or construction equipment, making our situation look like a first grader's math problem. 

Andrew, our knight in a hoodie sweatshirt, drove the car onto the tow truck, and then the sixty miles to our Boston mechanic.

We rolled into a cell phone dead zone somewhere in Gloucester. Frantically, we divided tasks and tried to find reception. I called the mechanics in Boston. Swedish Lief phoned AAA. Monk Francais researched our next meal. In less than thirty minutes, Tally's Hookers arrived. 

Not an actual reenactment.

Thank the heavens we were only a five minute walk from Halibut Point's oysters and beer, where they charged Swedish Lief $516 for dinner. Any good Jewish Catholic knows an evening spent with Hookers ought to be followed by overpriced shellfish and ale. 

Sons of Anarchy - Call Me #Failure, Maybe

12 oz of happiness and no motorcycle to prove it.

Your Daughter of Anarchy bailed on the moto expo. I found out it cost over $15 and I could not get myself to pay for it. I am sorry. Well, not really sorry to you as much as to myself because of my lack of self control at lunch.

My roommate, Swedish Lief (thanks to CatholcGelt's random name generator) got her car detailed. With two hours to waste and a mealtime to fill, we headed over to a local pub for burgers, a major no-no on my acceptable food list.*

Swedish Lief ordered the mushroom and caramelized burger while I got the jumbo 12 oz. burger with fried jalapenos and fried onions. Plus sweet potato fries, which came on the house since our waiter forgot to include them.

About 6 oz into the meal, my small mouth couldn't handle eating any more meat, bread, or potatoes. It seriously concerned me that I might get locked jaw from this seven inch tall behemoth. My roommate would have no such nonsense. "Eat your pickle. All of it!" For each additional ounce I consumed, my happiness quotient deteriorated in the opposite direction.

To cap it all off, Swedish Lief grabbed the bill and wrote, "Call me, <insert my phone number>" at the bottom. And then made a run for the door. **

*Over the last six months, my strict diet of meat, grass, and no exercise has helped me lose 25 lbs. Please consult your WebMD before following any advice herein as I only take credit for gained weight and gelato-induced bliss.

**I do not condone this behavior, but the waiter made a "that's what she said" joke. And since I laughed, Swedish Lief names this an act of flirtation.