Our old apartment received very little sunlight. We've been basking in the natural luminescence of our new home since we arrived. But as cold weather set in, I suggested that we close the drapes (which came with the place; I've yet to install new ones) in the living room when we're not using it-- to help keep the chill out. Not only did they keep the cold out, but they kept the us in. We discovered privacy. We prance about naked in the living room and exclaim, "Privacy!"
Génoise riche filled with a thin layer of dark chocolate (“Like a Pepperidge Farm Milano!”) and frosted with chocolate silk meringue buttercream. Cake and frosting recipes by RLB. The génoise included an Earl Grey syrup, the particular flavor of which was never clearly apparent-- the chocolate was too pervasive, though, I must admit, I don’t count that as a fault or failure.
Vanessa: ...what's going on with you? And, you're making that face again.
Dan: No, alright, look: this is getting ridiculous.
Vanessa: Jenny, have you ever heard of someone starting to make a brand new face at 19?
Jenny: I don't know. Ask Eric. He's master at two.
Eric: Excuse me?
Jenny: Blair told me you were responsible for sabotaging me at cotillion. What? You don't have anything to say to me?
Eric: Your sweet potatoes. are bland.
The post of 11/11/09 reminds me of a moment during my first year in college when, as a freshly out gay I witnessed two unimpugnably straight seeming dormmates wrestle one another to the floor in the hall yet again. When they'd completed their roughhousing and stood up, one of them had a huge erection. He noticed me noticing his erection. At the time, I felt as though I'd won-- as though I'd learned a malevolently powerful secret. I don't feel that way anymore. Although the event remains, as it was at the time, titillating, now I mostly wonder with a wry cynicism why the situation didn't immediately devolve into bisexual bacchanalia. All this took place, afterall, on the campus of Wesleyan University.