Tag Archives: funny

Mini Espresso Cheesecake Bites

Though my internal clock adjusts to nocturnal mode for the weekends, weekdays are a very different story. When I’m not doing something extremely exciting (like checking my blog stats), I tend to fall asleep on the couch at 9:30, wake up and move to my bed at 10:30, then tell people that’s the time I actually went to sleep to avoid being shunned as a complete loserpants.

Last night, however, I would be damned if I missed the midnight showing of The Hunger Games. In an effort to stay awake for 2 hours and 20 minutes of sadistic bliss, I made up a very espresso-filled recipe that I hoped would keep me from drooling on my neighbor in the theater. Mission accomplished, I’m 70% certain.

The movie was amazing. I didn’t even need the espresso to stay awake, because I spent most of the time actively ogling the male tributes. The film was not 100% true to the book, but I could let the details go for the sake of not sitting through a seven hour movie. And not eating the entire batch of these by myself.

Making these little babies is very simple. The trick is to make extra filling so that when you bring them to whatever gathering you’re going to, it doesn’t look like you’ve eaten half of what you made. Your secret is safe with me.


  • 1 package mini phyllo shells (found in the freezer section – comes with 15 shells)
  • 1/3 c mascarpone cheese
  • 1/3 c cream cheese
  • 3 Tbsp espresso powder, dissolved in 3 Tbsp hot water
  • 1/2 tsp vanilla
  • 1/4 c powdered sugar
  • pinch of salt
  • fresh raspberries
Mix cheeses together until smooth. Add espresso and vanilla, mix well. Stir in powdered sugar and salt. Pipe filling into phyllo shells. Garnish with raspberries (don’t leave these out – they add a lot of complexity to the flavor).

Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your flavor.

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Sunday Sunshine

After a brief hiatus, my Sunday Sunshine series has returned. This Sunday began with a strange, possibly gay, man in my bed. (Stay tuned for that post.) Then at brunch, a bird shit on my head. Please keep your laughter to yourself, because I’m still upset about it and very sensitive regarding my hair.

Despite this Sunday’s determination to crack me, I am drawing some sunshine from these things:

1. Bacon as an appetizer. They brought it to us with our chips and salsa at brunch this morning, right before the bird took its dump on my head. Apparently this is a thing?

2. Speaking for my dogs. This is Harvey. He is quite refined and prefers to speak in a British accent. Everyone is fairly certain he was once a wizard who accidentally turned himself into a tiny dog with a rogue spell. He now enjoys long naps, eating, and following me into the bathroom.

3. A good bloody mary. It was all I could think about after I rushed my new “friend” out the door. Nothing like a strange man playing with your dogs in his boxers to make you want a drink at 11 am.

4. My festive city. Uncertain who chose the “Cool Runnings” color scheme for the tower, but it looks very pretty at night. It turned all green yesterday.

5. Modern Family. I want to pee my pants I love this show so much. And if I was ever to go lesbian, it would be for Sofia Vergara because she is the most hilarious woman I can think of.

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Love is Blind. And so am I.

This morning, I awoke to a special treat in the form of a corneal abrasion. Which is a fancy way of saying that at some point during my drunken slumber, I scratched my own eye.

If it did not hurt so goddamned much, I might actually be impressed. The logistics are quite astounding. I somehow managed to fully open my eye mid-dream, then proceeded to touch it without blinking. All the while remaining completely asleep.

Excuse me while I add that to my list of useful talents.

After I could keep both eyes open long enough to figure out which one of the toilets I was seeing was real, I made the long and terrifying journey to work. People were likely confused as to why a disheveled woman with no make-up was clearly drunk driving at nine in the morning.

By the grace of God, I arrived safely. Just in time to look in the mirror and see the Bride of Frankenstein staring back at me in double.

I spent the better half of the morning Googling variations of “sexy eyepatch.”

too much?

I did go to the doctor, and a patch won’t be necessary, so my efforts were wasted. Which is sad, because I was kind of looking forward to a new accessory. If I can’t bring the pirate hooker look back in style, no one can.

My abrasion and I look forward to a peaceful evening of baking and eye drops.

As a side note: This will really teach me not to make jokes about blind people in my blog anymore.

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Chocolate-Dipped Potato Chips

Be still, my sweet and salty heart.

 If you’ve ever wondered what chocolate and potato chips taste like together, the answer is delicious. And if you can’t tell, this recipe is rather simple.

In fact, I’m not even going to post it. If you can’t figure it out from the pictures, you should seriously consider re-enrolling the first grade. Unless, of course, you’re blind – in which case it’s totally cool if you email me for the recipe. Sorry to offend you, and be careful crossing the street.

The primary reason I love making things with chocolate so much is that my ex-husband was disgusted by it. I know – what kind of a person does not appreciate the pure, divine bliss that is chocolate? An idiot, obviously.

That really should have tipped me off that there was something wrong with him. In my next personal ad, I will be sure to add a disclaimer: “Chocolate haters need not apply.” Best to put the important filters front and center.

For those of you wondering, this is what I did with my free time yesterday. I contemplated folding the laundry, but combining potato chips with chocolate just seemed more urgent. I hear wrinkles are coming in style, anyway. I’m just being avant-garde, people.

In a completely unrelated story, why don’t I have any dates lined up for this week?

In any case, you should all try these. Refrigerate them to let them set. Or just eat them as you dip. I won’t judge.


…and on a completely serious note, we are getting dangerously close to what would have been my one-year wedding anniversary. I hope that everyone is looking forward to reading a tearjerker in four days.

And if you’d like to send sympathy cards and mass quantities of chocolate, contact my people. We’ll get something set up.

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Close Encounters

This morning, I dragged my ass to spin class – obviously looking stunning with no make-up and a sweaty back. I was just thinking that it was the perfect time to run into a former one-night stand, when it happened.

Well, shit.

If you recall from my original post, sexytime with this gentleman was not the best. Actually, it’s hard for me to truly evaluate since my “sample” only lasted about two minutes. I am still baffled at how he was taking an advanced spin class, but had such little endurance where it mattered.

I sat in the back of the room and looked at his screen so that I could judge him when he wasn’t going as fast as the instructor told us to. Mostly because I’m bitter that he never gave me my earrings back. It’s not like he’s wearing them or anything.

Suddenly, everything the instructor said took on a sexual meaning. She walked around the room monitoring our resistance and cadence (RPM), as only the most pushy and annoying of instructors do.

“Watch that cadence!” she said as she checked his screen. “Get it up!”

My thoughts exactly.

As class ended, I sought refuge in the locker room. I hope this isn’t going to become a daily occurrence, because that could be problematic. Boys should really come with a disclaimer on which gym they work out at. Sigh.

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