The Gospel of Tasti-D-LIte

The other day, I wanted Tasti-D, but I was running late (per always), and the guy in front of me wanted to order some BananaDoucheBerry Smoothie, and so I couldn't get any 'cause I was gonna be super late instead of sorta late. I don't like there to be consequences to my actions (of being late).
So this is the Gospel, which satisfied me almost as much as that "d-lite" would have.

1. If the line at Tasti-D-Lite exceeds five (5) persons, you are no longer entitled to a sample. Sub-rules apply:
a) If the Consumer-in-Question (henceforth referred to as "CIQ") truly needs a sample in order to chose her flavor, the CIQ must defer her place in line to the person directly behind her while she mulls over the delicate composition of "Rice Pudding" or "Oreos n' Peanut Butter" or the deceptively titled "Coconut Joy" from her piddly little to-go-ketchup-cup thing.
b) If the CIQ already knows what flavor she wants and she still demands a sample of the flavor-of-the-day just because she can ("I just wanna seeeee!"*)--she is a douchebag.
*I have an idea, why don't you see some other time? Everyone knows they only have ten flavors, but just like, 500 different names for them. Like Jelly Bellys.

2. If the line at Tasti-D-Lite exceeds two (2)persons, the CIQ should not order a smoothie. Here's why:

It's like getting lobster or pot roast at a 24-hour diner. Here's why:
-They get out the manual. Yeah. Instructions. Because no one orders smoothies at Tasti-D-Lite, except douchebags. I did it once and I saw them dump a liter of actual peanut butter into my 60-calorie delite, and that obviously ruined the point. I shoulda just gone to Haagen-Daaz. Or Starbucks! Then at least I would have gotten caffeine. Also I'd like to add that if you order something with coffee in it, the Tasti-D people will put actual Folger's coffee grinds (from like, 1993) into your "smoothie." Gross, right? Yeah, go to Starbucks. There's one around the corner, I promise.

-If the CIQ wants an actual smoothie, she should go to Jamba Juice or whatever, they're taking over the world so she shouldn't have trouble locating one.

-You think that powder they're shoving in there is wheatgrass or protein yeast or something? No it isn't. It's anthrax.

-In NYC, where health code violations are enforced about as well as marijuana and prostitution laws, you don't want to order anything anywhere that is not the specialty of that particular establishment. (Thus the lobster metaphor.)

Which means:
-In addition to slowing down the line--no, basically, completely halting the line's progress altogether, the CIQ is going to spend the rest of the day spewing up rotten bananas. Which, I suppose, is one way to cut back on calories.

3. The CIQ can order a milkshake--as in--Tasti-d, milk, ice, blend. That's simple. We can wait for that. But those complicated smoothies are not for anyone, unless it's 10 A.M. and the CIQ is the only one within 30 feet of the selected Tasti-D venue.

4. If the CIQ's parents or other near kin are in town and she would like to take these relations to the Low-Cal Paradise of Tasti-D-Lite, she should discuss the specifics prior to entering the establishment. This is what I don't want to listen to:

Girl in Hard Tail pants: See, Mawm, there's only six-tay cahlories in one of these!
Mom from Idaho: What? That cahn't be true! (it isn't)
GIHTP: No, Mawm, look at the poster!
MFI: Well, they must taste just awful, like paste!
GIHTP: No, you'll see, I lahve Tastay, you cahn't even tell it's good for you! (yeah you can)
MFI: Oooo what flahvor should I get?
GIHTP: Owh, you can just get a sample! (please don't)
MFI: Oh, mmmm.
GIHTP: Oh my gawd they have pineapple cheesecake my fahvorite!
MFI: Oh, Fluffernutter Fudge that sounds delicious! (it isn't.)
GIHTP: Oh, mm. Get a swirl, always get a swirl!

And so on and so forth. Don't sell it! It's all lies anyhow (see below).

Everyone knows that GIHTP is not about to order a low-cal item. You know that GIHTP is gonna get a large with five flavors smashed inside it, covered in a crumbled Heath Bar, and she may as well have gone to Haagen Daaz or perhaps to the innermost circle of Dante's Inferno or Duane Reade. And MFI--she'll probably want a smoothie.

Also, you should check this out. It's an article about how Tasti-D is a scam. FYI. So see? Get out of there! I'm skinny anyhow, so I don't care about the truth, I just like to imagine that I'm being healthy, that's all. I think it's a fab illusion, like love. JK, I'm not THAT big of a cynic. I believe in love, I just don't believe in low-calorie things that taste good.

5. The most annoying Tasti-D-Lite in the city, in my experience, is on 86th and Lexington. Often there is a line out the door of people hankering for their fix, and they are the wrong kind of people. Usually I'd rather go get some Alpha-1 from the nice man in the red polo shirt next door, even though Alpha-1 is probably made from nuclear waste, crushed ice and splenda. But then I'll also get a pound of gummy candy and chocolate almonds and eat them until my stomach hurts, and then I'll put it away until my stomach stops hurting, and then I'll eat it again.

6. This is my Tasti-D-Lite. For some reason, there are two really hot guys that work there. This is not typical of Tasti-D-Lite establishments.

7. This isn't really related to Tasti-D-Lite, but it is related to things that are both Tasty and Delightful. At the gym I was watching the music video for "My Prerogative" by Britney Spears, and i was like "Holy Smokes, She's HOTTT!!!" So Britney: get it together and writhe for us again, like the old days. Thanks!

8. So, I was just looking on the internet for pics of Tasti-D, and I came across this super-recent blog post on three-toed-sloth about tasti-d-lite. I thought it was funny, and also funny because I am writing a blog post about tasti-d, which means i must be on the pulse of the bloggeration. (that's generation blog, p.s.) I started reading all the comments, then realized I was going to have a panic-attack that like, someone might have already said what I just wrote, and then I'd have to trash this whole thing! (See that? That was an insight into the "proccess" of a writer. It's like Paris Review interview, but quicker and with only 600 calories an ounce) So I stopped and thought about Britney Spears, and then added number 7 up there, and made this number 8. God, i'm getting so behind the scenes with y'all today!

9. If I use the term "tasti-d" one more time, I'm going to throw up all over Bloomingdales, I'm totally grossing myself out. Ew.


Better.

Sunday Top 10: Appearances by Flannel Shirts in Marie's Videos From Middle School

I've been watching so many videos from middle school (book research...seriously!) that it feels like 1993 in here. Except if it was 1993 I'd be paying $2.95 an hour to access the internet via AOL and there would be no blogs, but whatever.

Since I get less and less clever with every passing moment in the sweltering subway station, I'm gonna totally change the whole Sunday Top Ten thing. It's just gonna be like--Top Ten anything. Like this week, in honor of 1992-1995, I've taken some screen shots to compile:

THE TOP TEN APPEARANCES BY FLANNEL SHIRTS IN MARIE'S VIDEOS FROM MIDDLE SCHOOL!

(This wasn't hard, because the flannel-per-capita ratio at Emerson was out of control. we wanted to be Kurt Cobain/Jordan Catalano--even the girls (we all look like Michigan Womyn's Festival toolbelt tent-happy hippies with skater pants)

10. Somehow, flannel shirts were the chosen costume for our lip sync performance to Madonna's fashion-forward anthem "Material Girl." Here Alina (My Best Friend 2) and I perform my choreography, but obviously she's a better voguer than me.


9. Like stripes and patterns but better and with more edge.


8. Best Friend Number One, Becky, being assaulted by me from behind.

7. My Boyfriend, Jordan Catalano, looked really good in flannel.

6. Alina, My Best Friend 2, was the hottest girl in school. Which is why boys sometimes let her wear their flannels. I chose this look because I like how she is mixing her pink outfit with this hideous brown flannel, but it's almost like a style all it's own, right?


5. This is some kind of hippie shit where I must have been learning something.

4. This is what happens to pre-adolescent boys who's parents send them to a 100-student middle school for "gifted and talented" students. It's called overcompensating. The other boys are playing Magic the Gathering.

3. We were wearing togas for some sort of hippie unit on the Greeks. But that doesn't mean that you can't also wear FLANNEL!!!

2. This is Erika and I doing some hippie presentation about some science gravity whatever thing I probably failed anyway. Check out the flannel-overall combo though.

1. This is how I feel when I see Jordan Catalano:*


*Actually, this look immediatly followed my crush object saying "Here's Marie, the other sex machine"!!! LOL REALLY!
** Awwww ... sigh.
**** omg someone come and rescue me e.g., Rhianna ahhhhh
****** Don't you love the way he LEANS?**IN FLANNEL?!

Sunday Top Five: So Hot Right Now, Joan Jett, Sobriety

Sunday Top 5. Yeah, I know it used to be the Sunday Top 10. But it's at least a thousand degrees outside, my stomach hurts, I'm still in cruise-withdrawl mode, and I gotta go to the gym and come back before Fresh Direct gets here!

Did I mention how hot it is? Jesus. I seriously want to die. It's a good thing I usually stay indoors with the other vampires.

But here's five things to be excited about--okay--three things to be excited about, and two things I'd like to bitch about:


5. The new Joan Jett & The Blackhearts album. Though Joan has been a fashion icon for me, I realized I was one of those lame people who had a fashion icon who's music they didn't really listen to. (Most of the music I do listen to is done by musicians who either dress like granola-crunchy-lesbians or like actual pimps, which isn't a good look for me, and granola has more calories than you think, y'all!) She was on the cover of Curve Magazine this month and I thought "nice eyeliner, I gotta get that album." Not only does she play soundbytes of G.W being an idiot (fool me once, etc), but she has hot bi lyrics like "Switch-hitter/you know she plays the field/she ain’t concerned/as long as its real/top bottom/she does either/always in control/she’s a teaser." That's so much better than the retarded poem that opened the dippiest book ever "Bi Any Other Name," which had similar themes.

4. Sobriety.

I was thinking about it. This plan--(no drinking or smoking for a week)--is still in it's earliest stages, and I might not see it to fruition. But I've been feeling like an asshole lately because I don't get the work done that I need to be doing, and I figured that cutting these things out would help reduce the risk of staying up too late and sleeping in. Not that I party very often--in fact, I tend to really "go out" maybe about 2-3 times a month because I Hate Other People--but I drank a lot on the cruise and I've had a drink or a smoke every now and then since so I'm feeling kinda lethargic about it. Then I looked at Getty Images to find a photo of "sobriety." And this is what I got:

That looks awful! I think I'm gonna go have a drink. BRB.
(JK, I never drink/smoke before sunset! Unless it's a really late sunset.)
Exceptions to the no-drink-drug rule: If someone really needs me to smoke/drink with them. I might consider it. But I won't, you know, initiate.

3.
Overheard in New York #1
At the Bedford L Train Stop:
hipster girl #1: Why are all the L train service advisory signs at this station only in Spanish?
hipster girl #2: I guess it affects an area of Brooklyn so far away that the only people who live there speak Spanish?

Overheard in New York #2
In Times Square, circa 11:30pm
homeless heckler man: Don't look at me in that tone of voice!

2. Question of the Day:
Why do people call me, text me, email me or approach me in person to comment on a blog post, but do NOT, in fact, comment on the actual blog post itself, which is what I need to make myself feel popular? I think that's really annoying, and none of you are invited to my party. That's right. No one. And it's gonna be a boy-girl party, and there's gonna be Hi-C, and we're gonna watch 'Dirty Dancing' and you are not, I repeat -- you are NOT invited.

Okay, I love people and I'm a really happy person, especially today.

So now I want to talk about how hot it is.

1. Anywhere But Here
We in Brooklyn are currently under a SEVERE WEATHER ALERT: HEAT ADVISORY. "Temps will climb into the Mid 90's ... combined with humidity will cause the heat index to climb between 100 and 104 degrees."

AWESOME.

Places I have been on other July 16ths, which I suspect were more temperate than this beast:

July 16, 2005, NYC
LOW-73, HIGH-84
This, I believe, was the day of the legendary water-boiling conversation with Matty (me:"aren't you going to put a lid the pot?" him:"why?" me:"um, are you kidding?" him:"No." me:"cuz it boils faster?" him:"are you in a hurry? i'm not in a hurry."). Even the water that was (not) boiling in that pot in his (air conditoned) room was not as hot as it is today.

July 16, 2004: NYC
LOW-64, HIGH-78.8
Having a 7th grade moment with the cute boy at Niko's on the Upper West Side (seventh grade because we were punished for "socializing" by asshole manager). The boy's name was Jeremiah, eventually we fell in love. It was very air conditioned in Niko's and as i remember not as hot as it is today.

July 16, 2003: ANN ARBOR, MICHIGAN
LOW-55, HIGH-81
Most likely working at the Mac-Shack (air conditioned) and hanging out with Scot (air conditioned). Also it was not as hot as it is today either.

July 16, 2002: ANN ARBOR, MICHIGAN
LOW-52, HIGH-90
Even though I may have been either at the dentist or fighting with the hoards of assholes at the Ann Arbor Art Fair, it was still not as hot as it is today.

July 16, 2001: NYC
LOW-63, HIGH-84
According to my records, I made $250 waitressing at the Olive Garden on July 14, and was in the middle of an-all-time social-high of non-stop excitement, fun and new people in NYC. And it was not as hot as it is TODAY!

July 16, 2000: SEATTLE, WA
LOW-52, HIGH-82
I was literally PICKING RASPBERRIES. With Sheetal and Meg. I was visiting Sheetal between my move from NYC to Ann Arbor, and Meg was visiting too. PICKING RASPBERRIES and it was NOT AS HOT as it is TODAY.

July 16, 1999: ANN ARBOR MI
LOW-57, HIGH-90
I was probably working at GapKids, going to the gym, being anorexic, or hanging out with Jake. EVEN if I had been working at GapKids and EVEN if all I'd eaten was a Slim-Fast bar that entire day--it would still be better than here because it was NOT AS HOT AS IT IS TODAY.

I would venture to say that July 16, 1981, when I was still inside my mother's womb, was probably more temperate than today.

This guy is supposed to represent today's weather, but he's full of shit. Seriously, it looks like a photo taken from inside someone's cervix at a guy eating them out and they have a lot of white bushy down-there-hair. I know that's the "dirtiest" thing I've ever said on this blog, but I doubt anyone will make it all the way to this part of the entry anyhow. If you did, and if you are my brother or my mother, I want to say this: "Isn't that what it looks like though? I mean, seriously."

Rosie Cruise 2006: I Will Remember You, Will You Remember Me?

At last, all the Rosie Family Cruise 2006 pics/re-cap is all up on my side-dish blog, "More Potato Products," which can be located at PleaseSirIWantSomeMore.

Note: It's super long. And kinda boring unless you are super-bored, love me like, a whole lot, like more than I loved The Crying of Lot 49 (which I hated, but this is shorter than that and I still read that muthafucka), and/or if you were on the cruise with me, and/or if you are my stalker or if you gave birth to me or were birthed by the same woman who gave birth to me or related to her in some way.

Flashback: Warm Nights, Almost Left Behind, Suitcases of Memories...

Post-Ecstatic-Stress-Syndrome.
it's like RSAD (Reverse-Seasonal Affective Disorder, my other disease)
BUT WITH MORE YEARNING.

symptoms:

-totally forgetting that the world is, in fact, not entirely composed of homosexuals [and also straight people who are totally prepared for the fact that you'll think they're gay until they show you otherwise, like by standing around in the breakfast line gabbing like it's fucking Mahh-Jong day at the Miami Beach retirement home while you're trying to make a beeline for the fresh canned pears, not that this actually happened to me or anything, but I think they were on the wrong ship or else had a lesbian daughter with irresistible grandchildren). Continually assuming that everyone who walks past you is a homosexual and thinks you too are a homosexual. Feeling somehow wronged by that.

-complete inability to prepare meals or clean up the results of the take-out you inevitably resorted to eating. persistent delusions that a meal awaits you on the second floor of your apartment building, followed by delusion that your dishes will be removed by a smiling Indonesian man in a navy blue suit.

-attempting to open your apartment door with a plastic card emblazoned with the image of a cruise ship.

-walking on water, like Jesus, but without the water or the holy-ness.

-total confusion as to why everything is so dirty and no one is folding your towels or slipping a newsletter with tomorrow's fun activities under the door.

-forgetting that you have a cell-phone, cash, a computer, or a job.

CAUSE:

going from this:








to this:




Complete Run-Down of All Cruise Photos and Boring Details to Follow Within the next 24-48 hours. I know, you're already jonesin' for it. "Please Marie, tell me all about how much fun you had while I was being boring in my hot smelly life!" Well, don't worry kiddies, I WILL.

p.s. A gross sweaty drunk scary man in the A-C 34th street station at 1:30 AM asked me "all the trains are going that way?" like ten times,
and a gay person would never do that.

From the Rosie Cruise: I Believe that Children are the Future

I have no desire whatsoever to go home.

Aside from the overpriced drinks and a shocking lack of Polly-O string cheese and the fact that we can't seem to track down any psychedelic drugs, I could kinda sail like this for probably at least another week.

Seriously: beautiful children. Real love! The Republicans need to come here and see the most multicultural and well-behaved kids on the goddamn planet. Even though I sometimes wish they would put some duct tape over their mouths and get out of the hot tub.

Hav and I are in love with Susan Powter, who kicked our asses in yoga this morning and calls us "THE YOUNG ONES" and says things like "I don't care about your issues, I don't care about your trauma, every woman in this room has been traumatized and if you haven't than you're BLIND!" and "NO MORE refined white sugar, NO MORE refined white flour, ENOUGH refined white men and NO MORE OF THAT refined White House!"

We soak in the hot tub and lie in the sun and look at mountains and pick at kitschy t-shirts in Alaskan gift shops, eat vegetables in the dining hall (it's like that, like college), and hang out with the other performers Hav knows and we try, relentlessly, to get a server to truly bring the dressing on the side. Rosie is hilarious and Kathy Griffin is AWESOME and Cyndi Lauper rocked (and our 80's outfits, of course, ROCKED) and Jill Sobule was so fun and the Broadway singers here are totally breathtaking and we'd like to stalk Melissa Etheridge, but she pretty much wrote the book on stalking, I mean the CD, and we think she's holed up with her preggers wife.

There is so so so much to say, but I want to wait til I get home and internet doesn't cost 75 cents a minute and we can hook up Hav's camera because we have remarkable photographs and I don't have to just take random ones from the website.


In the meantime....

Lets do an FAQ:

q: What are you girls--like, 19?
a: Haviland is 25 and I am 24. We are not, in fact, 19, though we are aware that we still wear the clothing of young vibrant college girls, which is because we are beautiful, really, just gorgeous.

q: Are you like, the child of a gay? Or are you gay?
a: I am the child of a gay and I myself--as Matty once said: "half a fag." But I am here with Haviland, not with my "mommies" and Haviland is not the child of a gay, but she is a gay, and also a star.

q: So are you guys, you know, like, together?
a: Um...uh....we don't um... (stutter, look at each other, laugh, titter, smile)...uh, kinda? we don't really uh...know? Um, friendster might say uh, "it's complicated"? Um, whatever? I mean, open? Sorta not really but kinda?

q: How do you get so skinny?
a: Cocaine, lettuce and long walks on the beach.

q: How tall are you (to me)?
a: 5'10.
Follow-up them: Wow! I always wanted to be tall.
Follow-up me:If you can dream it, then you can do it. I'd like a pony and another drink please thanks.

q: Do you want a drink?
a: Yes, yes I do.
Hav's a: No thanks.
My a: I'll have hers. Honey, get a Corona.

q: Were you singing last night? (to Haviland)
a: Yes.
Follow up: You were wonderful! Just wonderful!

q: Do you know what restaurants are open?
a: How do you feel about petrified cheeseburgers?

q: Are you going on any excursions?
a: As much as an $800 helicopter ride to the glaciers or a salmon bake or a kayaking lesson sounds terrif, I'm facing a truly monumental mini-bar bill and we don't want anything to get in the way of our search for Diet Dr.Pepper.

q: What time is it?
a: There is no time.

Let me leave you with another quote from our favorite woman on earth ("I'm not a doctor, I'm a WITCH!"), Susan Powter:

"I'm your worst nightmare. I was born with a very good brain and a very nice ass."