Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Well hello, kiddies! I know you must have missed me almost as much as I've missed rambling about irrelevant bullshit. I'm here to fill the void for both of us.

Where to start?

So my teeth are healed. Hallelujah! The few days spent resting instead of running around like a banshee felt like an eternity. If I had to imagine how life in a loveless marriage would feel, that is as close a comparison I could make. Days and nights on a couch, eating, napping, watching reality TV... miserable.

On an exciting little side note, I had my first editorial feature! It's just a small piece about my fabulous self and my fabulous infantile business venture, The Butter and Bean. Through this piece, I was contacted by Diabetes Foundation, Inc. to volunteer as a speaker and demonstrator! This is the reason why I love what I do. The fact that I can speak to children who are going through what I went through and show them that while life is different, it is as fantastic as you make it, thrills me. Like I've said before, diabetes does not define you and marching to the beat of your own drum is endearing, not hindering. Also, I will be a vendor at their 5k walk this weekend. I'm so excited to hand out little goodies to my pancreas-challenged comrades and their supportive families. Not to mention, shamelessly plugging my brain-child...

I made some treats this past week. It could have been the painkillers, but I swear I heard my Kitchenaide (which I have named Coco) calling out to me, "USE ME, YOU USELESS COW". It wasn't something I was willing to deal with for much longer.

Some Avengers cupcakes, anyone? Vanilla/vanilla cupcakes with fondant Captain America, Hulk, and Iron Man themed caps. They were delicious. And adorable. Duh.

 Ah, Mother's Day. I hope everyone had a hoot celebrating the reason we're all here: Mothers. Sometimes they're crazy, sometimes they're infuriating. Whatever the case, they are a part of us, and if you're as lucky as I am, they might be the best part. 

I'm fortunate enough to be creative, smart, and outspoken just like my mom. I was on the path to becoming a doctor, just like my mom was. I have extremely supportive and loving parents, unfortunately, like my mother does not. My mother was born in Athens, Greece, to very selfish and close-minded old fashioned parents. Her parents believed that a woman's future was to be spent cleaning up after her children and Greek husband, not as an educated professional in the career of their choice. Because she is the woman she is, she refused to be an oppressed wash-woman living to cook and clean for a diner-owning hairball. Through her full-time job at a bank, she was able to enroll at a college as an Accounting major. She has been in accounting ever since. My mother is a sparkling, talented woman who I often model myself after. She hates what she does now. Hates it. Glass ceiling? Steel ceiling. In a field primarily driven by egotistical men, she diligently wills herself to work every day so that she could send me to a university for 3 years, and then to an outrageously pricey Culinary school when I decided to pursue a notoriously tough career- as a diabetic. This is why I love my mother. Sacrifice isn't sacrifice to her. She tells me everyday that doing what she does is a privilege because I am her daughter. Happy Mother's Day, Mommy.

Oh, and the cupcakes were Vanilla, Vanilla with, what I believe to be, adorable fondant caps and a pretty fondant flower. 

As far as the love life, goes, that's what I'm doing. I'm loving life and taking it as it comes. At the end of the day, everyone can (and most will) hurt you. When you can have love and faith in yourself, you are one step closer to impenetrable. I have faith that one day, someone will love me unconditionally and whole-heartedly because I have that love for myself. If you don't know what you're truly worth, no one else will either. It took getting my heart broken to find the love of my life- myself. One day someone will come in at a close second place.

To all my heartbroken or love-starved darlings out there who are losing or who have lost faith: trust that no one will love you like you and anyone who doesn't try to, doesn't deserve to.

One more thing...

Change of Events.

So. Funny thing about acting all bad ass and telling my teeth to go screw?

Guess they heard me and thought I was cute. Fastforward to the next day. THE WORSE EFFING PAIN I HAVE EVER FELT. If I had to liken it to anything else, I'd think Kelly Rippa naturally birthing Budha. Painting a picture? So I wake up and beg my father to drive me to the surgeon. Apparently, I no longer have dental insurance either due to the impossibility that I will ever have dental issues or because I'm a 22 year old scumbag that isn't in college/doesn't have an office job. I'm sitting in the waiting room, holding my face, cursing like a bachelor party of truckers, when I find this out. A grand, and one pissed off father later, two little bastards are out of my mouth and my face looks like a picasso painting from all the novacane.

OH NO. Fun don't stop, kids.

I end up having an infection. Remember those kick-your-ass strength antibiotics? Yeah. Didn't do shit.

Let's fast forward to a few days, and a bottle of Hydrocodone later, here I am. Stomach hurts. Face hurts. Ego hurts. Taking a pint to the head on cinco de mayo was the plan. The pint being filled with rainbow sherbert instead of corona is what happened. FML. Just wanted to explain my slight hiatus.

Right now my face looks like I have a grapefruit in my cheek, it's 2 am, I have a painkiller with my name on it, and you kiddies will have to come visit me tomorrow for more. I'll miss you too.

Nightie night, bitches.


I woke up this morning and literally thought that a swarm of hornets were gang raping the right side of my face. Memories of choosing bright, Holiday compatible, rubber bands to adorn my dental shrapnel and the horrendous pain that followed, vividly flashed through my head. 

So I hauled ass to the dentist. 

The diagnosis is bleak... wisdom teeth. Bastards. They're impacted and infected. I'm on heavy duty, tear-your-ass-up, antibiotics. When told that I had to get them out ASAP, I told my dentist that we're going to plan for next monday. She asked why. I told her that I want to enjoy this weekend, 
be miserable next week, and be healed for the following weekend. 

Oral surgery, be damned; my lushery will not skip a weekend. 

It's not all bad. I now am sitting home, in sweats, in my bed, eating anything chewable in front of me, 
and Googling which sports bar I want to watch the Rangers' game at. Rough life.

Ps. Tested my blood sugar today. Ya know, for shits and giggles. I checked the memory and saw that my last reading was a week ago. 


This isn't a disclaimer. I'm just telling you that I'm a shit diabetic. 

I guess I should get on that? 

The wait is over!

I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, kiddies. 

I know, I know. I apologize to the nightlife market of New Jersey.  No one went out. 
You all just loyally stayed home, refreshing this page, and waited for the fulfillment that can only come from reading what I write. It was a long weekend and many businesses suffered, but I am back. 

Breathe east, New Jersey, breathe easy...

Let's recap.

I finally made, and perfected, my Macarons! They were Gerard-Butler-Shirtless-in-a-heat-wave AMAZING. Wrap your head around that one. I'd venture to say, even men would agree on the eye-gasm that is Gerard Butler shirtless and sweaty...


I'm like a proud mama. They were born at approx. 3pm Saturday April 28th, 2012. They were Lime. And phenomenal. I say "were" because, within 24 hours, all 40 of them were devoured. 

Such is the circle of pastry life. RIP. 

Now on to the shit talking. You didn't think I would solely post about Lime Macarons, did you?

I'm still in search of my satisfying cookie. No, I'm not talking about a literal cookie. If you don't know what I mean, read my post, "The Cookie Jar" and clue yourself in...

I come across plenty of cookies. I'm a cookie whore always trying a different cookie, it seems. You know, it's funny.  I've lost a lot of weight in my lifetime. Most of it was lost with amazing willpower.
I'm Italian and Greek. You try turning down pasta on Sunday. Now that I am the thinnest I've ever been, I'm also the most confident I've ever been. Why can I live with diabetes,  lose an extreme amount of weight naturally, finish culinary school, and start a business, but I can't find the strength to say no to the second cookie?

This weekend, I gave in. I had decided to never see, thus being tempted to eat, the one cookie I've been binging on for the past month ever again. 

Then I gave in. 

I went with every intention not to "eat" but rather, just to have the cookie around.
I left with crumbs all over my face and an overwhelming sense of self defeat.

I keep trying to be a cynic and a hopeless romantic at the same time. It doesn't work. Or at least the cynic in me is far weaker than the romantic.

Keeping up with this "cookie" shit is getting exhausting.

Here's the deal: 
I keep giving the same idiot chance after chance. 
I keep telling him, I'm here. 
I'm yours if you want.
I keep looking for some kind of comfort when we're laying next to each other.
I keep driving home in tears.

I hit the wall, just last night. I'm not here to convince anyone I'm worth loving. I have to much to offer someone. I'm done playing games. That "Men want what they can't have" thing is horse shit.
I want someone to love the shit out of me because I'm real and because I'm there with an open heart.
Not because I pretend that I don't want them. Why? So they can hunt me down and feel like bigger men because "they caught me"?

Been there, done that. They're usually NOT the bigger men.. catch my drift?

The right person will come along and sweep me off my feet. Because that's what I deserve.
And I will be the one that got away. Because that's what he deserves.

Cookie Jar

As I've gotten older (and wiser, because one doesn't necessarily denote the other) I've come to realize self respect and self control go hand in hand. Telling some asshole who doesn't appreciate you as a person to go scratch is the same as not eating a second cookie knowing it will only bring cellulite and/or higher blood sugars.

You may want to keep the asshole around for some sense of personal instant gratification, but in the long run, just like the extra cookie, that last bite will always leave you feeling guilty.

Yes, I am comparing men to cellulite.

Actually, now that I think about it... From the lips, right to the thighs and ass... 
Men ARE cellulite! Ground breaking!

But I digress. Sometimes settling for undeserving company, just to have company at all, is taking that second cookie. You're not eating it because you need it or because you're actually hungry... you're eating it because it's there and one cookie just didn't satisfy you.

I refuse to settle for an unsatisfying cookie. I will never stop believing that there's one person for every person, that makes wanting any other person impossible.

I'm  still looking for my one satisfying cookie...

(and to get rid of cellulite... let's be real here.)

No, I have not slept yet.


Yes, really. It's 6 am.

I'm not exactly up for early spin.

So... I'm awake.

Prior to leaving a friend's house, I decided to have a cup of coffee.


Because I was a 20 minute ride on a dark highway away from home and could barely keep my eyes open. HOURS ago. While coffee provided me with the luxury of arriving home alive, I am now balls-to-the-wall wired.

It's 3:30am.

During my failed attempt at sleep, I did what everyone does.... I thought of Macaron flavors to experiment with tomorrow.

Oh, wait, you don't think of Macaron flavors while attempting to drift into blissful slumber?


SHEEP?? Well that's just stupid..

Anyway, if you don't know what Macarons are, they're little Krabby Patty-looking, brightly colored French sandwich cookies that will change. your. life.  If a cookie could be compared to any historical event, the French Macaron would rival discovering electricity. 

Think of your favorite cookie.

 This is that. 

 ...On crack.

Besides being completely crazy about the little gems, they are naturally gluten and lactose free.
I don't have to shit my brains out after I eat them.

In case you did not read my past entries, I have Colitis. That stunning visual usually happens right after I eat almost anything. Ok, honestly though, girls poop. If there were any that didn't... I'd have it covered enough for the both of us. Deal with it, I'm gross.

Anyway, back to Macarons... yeah, needless to say, I am a fan. Some ideas so far: 

Chestnut and Blood Orange Macarons
Chestnut and Chocolate Macarons
Kiwi and Caramel Macarons
Red Velvet Macarons
Chocolate and Hazelnut Macarons
Mint Cream Cheese Macarons

....Was the poop thing a bit much?

Whoops, I'm not sorry.