Had I Won That Mega Millions…

Yesterday was the first time I bought a lottery ticket. After asking two different strangers how to fill out the slip, I figured it out and had my ticket handy! Like most people, I knew the odds weren’t in my favor, or anyone’s for that matter, but I still had hope based off that clever slogan “Hey, you never know.” Well, most of me did know that I wouldn’t win but of course, like anyone, I had a tiny–and I mean microscopic/minuscule–glimmer of hope. So, with that hope, I decided to make a list of what I’d do with the money that I won.

First I decided to check off the box that would award the money to me across 26 annual payments as opposed to one lump sum. Why? Well, the man who explained to me how to do it suggested that for someone my age, that may be the smarter choice. My mom, however, then told me that the lump sum may have been better, God forbid something terrible happened and I didn’t survive for those 26 years after winning and then the rest of my winnings would go to no one. I explained to my mom that 1. the odds of me winning were so incredibly slim and 2. that, on the off chance I did win, I’d then also have to die before the age of 47 3. If I did win and came down with an illness or disease that would ultimately lead to that untimely death, I’d probably have enough money to ensure the best possible health care and treatment, so the the odds of me winning AND THEN dying before the age of 47 were so slim that I figured checking off the “26 annual payments” box was warranted. In the end, I didn’t win, but this was my thought process.

Here’s what I would have done with the money: (well, some of what I would have done)

-Financed a feature film that I wrote, directed and starred in and get Alec Baldwin, Rooney Mara, Meryl Streep, Emma Stone, Nick Offerman, Tina Fey and Dennis Quaid to co-star as my siblings.

-Bought out my grandmother’s apartment, along with the unit above hers, and made it into a kick-ass duplex and fill one floor with puppies and then have Miley Cyrus play at my apartment warming party.

-Donate at least $1,000,000 to Autism Speaks and the American Cancer Society.

-Build myself a walk in closet larger than my bedroom, most likely.

-Treat myself to a pair of authentic Nike “Tiffany SB” Dunks.

-Pay my way into guest starring on such TV shows as Parks and Recreation, 30 Rock, Modern Family and Pretty Little Liars until I became “that girl.”

-Finally produce my musical “Moo Shu Jew.”

-Give my mom and dad money

-Buy a neon green Lamborghini, blue Range Rover Sport and a matte black Mercedes G wagon.

I’d probably do some traveling, try that weird, ice cream sundae with the 14K gold flakes in it and some other weird stuff too, but I’d also put money away–duh!

Well, that’s some of what I would have done had I won last night. But I didn’t. So. Back to the usual life of A Ditk.

Boob Toob

A good friend of mine recently got breast implants as an early graduation present/right of passage in her family (both her mother and grandmother have had the procedure done as well). Now, before this procedure I’d describe her boobs as “skinny nips.” If you don’t get what I mean by that, when she’d walk around at night with just a t-shirt and no bra before bed, it really just looked like she had a matchstick where each of her breasts were supposed to be. I don’t have a problem with plastic surgery, as long as you do it for the right reasons, so I am happy for her. Before she wasn’t confident about her body and would wear bras with intense amounts of padding. Somewhere there’s a mangled therapeutic mattress labeled “hunted for bra padding.” I’m not kidding. But Allie, how do you know she did it for the right reasons? Well, it’s simple. If she wanted to be a whore and just appear more attractive to men she would have upgraded from here barely-there A cup to an eye-poking D. Instead, she went from her matchsticks to a modest B cup. She’s proud of them, she’s comfortable with them–good for her! After winter break she threw together a little gathering at her apartment–it was a coming out party for her new friends…her boobs. I’m not sure why, but the party had a Breast Cancer awareness theme to it, considering there were Hershey Kisses wrapped in pink foil, Oreos with pink filling separated into halves and dotted with pink gel coloring to resemble boobs and pink crystal light mixed with vodka. It was an evening to celebrate the girls.

Today I ran into her on the quad. We chatted for a few, and then she told me whilst at a club over spring break she was let into the VIP section. She then paused, grabbed her boobs and said “they’re already paying for themselves!” And then I contradicted this entire blog post.

 

For serious, she’s a great person, a good friend and a whole lot of fun to be around. Not to mention she got a kick-ass, prestigious job for after graduation…she’s one of the few seniors I know that’s already employed. And for those of you who are perverts, she got the job BEFORE the implants–so get your minds out of the gutter!

Conan in NYC

For those of you who don’t know, last fall I interned at Conan in Los Angeles while I was there for a semester. I had an incredible time, which you can read all about right here.

This past week Conan taped four shows (back where he belongs) in NYC to celebrate the first anniversary of his new show on TBS. My boss from Conan reached out to me and a few other past and present interns to help and work the show because they would need all hands on deck. Naturally, I accepted and drove home from school to work the last two NY shows on Wednesday, November 2nd and Thursday, November 3rd.

I was fortunate enough to be the costume intern for those two days, and was asked for specifically by the costume designer himself. Prior to arriving in the city, I had read online that Conan would be officiating a same-sex marriage on his show for one of his long-time staff members. It wasn’t until I arrived that I found out the costume designer, Scott, was the groom to be. I had the pleasure of working alongside Scott on the day of his wedding, and it was such an incredible experience. I also got to meet his wonderful fiance (and now husband) David. They are both such sweethearts. They truly deserve each other and a lifetime full of happiness. The wedding itself was very sweet and emotional. It was touching. Most of the staff had crowded into the aisles and doorways of the Beacon Theatre to witness the ceremony in person, and I was one of them seeing as I was working with Scott. It was truly something incredible.

Working with the Conan staff is always a blast. Not only is it a lot of fun, but it’s a great learning experience as well, and an excellent chance to build relationships and network. I got to meet some great people, and get back in touch with others. I also got to see one of my previous bosses, Andy Cohen, as he was the guest who walked Scott down the aisle to the chuppah.

I saw the Conan blimp, met Will Forte, exchanged glances with Jon Stewart and was in the theatre to witness the first same-sex marriage on television. It’s safe to say it was worth missing a few classes.

 

Just Not Cutting It

Today I was at a fine dining establishment with a few of my friends. After receiving our food one of my friends, who ordered steak, seemed somewhat confused but excited at the same time. That’s when she told us “this is the first time I’m cutting my own steak…my dad usually does it for me!” She said this like there was nothing wrong with it. Like there was nothing wrong with the fact that a 20 year old had never, until this very day, cut her own steak. I told her you cut it the same way you’d cut any other food and then she told me she usually just cuts things with her fork. I face-palmed at that very moment. She just didn’t get it “like what’s good? I don’t know what’s good!” she was talking about what parts were meat and what parts were fat. I told her it would be obvious. She also held her knife quite weird.

 

It makes me think of how fortunate I am to have grown up in a family where I was given the chance to cut my steak at such a young age. Never take anything in life for granted!

I will say, however, that at 21 I still get my steak knife taken away from me quite often because I play with it too much. You know, I cut the paper table cloth and such…tap on the water glass…my mom doesn’t trust me.

My First Time…Being Recognized in Public By A Stranger

No, I’m not a celebrity and no I didn’t star in the latest local college commercial, but apparently I did something right (or just really wrong) because yesterday I got recognized in public–by a completely random girl. Here’s how it all went down:

It was about 6PM and I was exiting my office building. The sky was a spittin’ so I popped open my newly purchased $14 umbrella and was on my way. Suddenly, I heard someone call my name, and ask if it was me. Intrigued, I said yes, and suddenly a young girl showed up in front of me. “Did you go to Camp Summit?” “Yes.” “Do you know so and so?” “Uh, kinda, why?” “Well, I was at her house the other day and we were watching your camp video year book from a few years back and she told me she can’t turn it off because she has to wait and see your division play basketball because you fall during it.” “Oh. Yes. Yes I fell.”

Then her mom stepped into the conversation and asked what I am doing now–like she knew me from my early childhood and wanted to know what I was up to with my life…um, ma’m I don’t even know your child let alone you. Regardless, being the friendly person that I am, I told them and she seemed…disinterested. Then, they just walked away. I don’t even think they said goodbye, and clearly they know who I am but I have no idea who the hell either of them are. A name from either of them would have been nice, but I suppose celebrities can’t get all of their fan’s names anyway. As they walked away I felt compelled to say “have fun and stay dry!” At least I know I did MY part to be polite.

 

So there you have it. I may have only been recognized for falling during an organized game of basketball during color war at my sleepaway camp 5 or so years ago, but hey, it happened. It may have been incredibly awkward and weird but I can never pass up an opportunity like that.

 

She should have asked for a picture. Maybe I would have pretended to fall for a nice, reenactment action shot.

I’ve Been Blogging So Much About My Grandma That I May Just Have To Change My Blog Title To “The Life of My Grandma”

I may or may not have consumed some of this cake before snapping a photo.

Last night I was at home with my mother. None of my friends were around, so naturally I spent a solid 15 minutes staring at my ceiling fan until I came up with an idea solid enough to entertain my undiagnosed A.D.D. Then, it hit me. Earlier that evening my mom had her boyfriend and his son over for a porterhouse BBQ extravaganza and whipped out the cookbook my grandma put together as a fundraiser for her temple back in the 1800s. That was a lie. It was sometime between 1970 and 1980. Or earlier. Okay I have no idea. Regardless, she took out the cook book to look up my late grandfather’s sangria recipe (see, I wasn’t lying about the wine obsession in my last post). She left the book out so in my boredom phase I naturally  started flipping through the pages. I made my way to the cakes section and found an interestingly titled recipe submitted by my grandmother. The name was “Dom Ecom Cake.” Yes. Dom Ecom. When all was said and done it’s a pretty simple chocolate cake, but because of the name I knew I HAD to bake it. So I ran out to the grocery store, at roughly 9:45PM, and bought all of the ingredients…along with Special K cereal because it was on sale.

I drove home and got to work. When I arrived home I was greeted by an army of toothpicks on the floor. As it turns out my mom decided to take some of the ingredients out of the cabinets for me and knocked over a box of toothpicks. She popped her hip out a few weeks ago so she “couldn’t bend down to pick them all up so [she] figured [I] would do it for her.” So I did. THEN I started baking.

Now, I have never baked ANYTHING from scratch on my own, or at my own will, or from start to finish without stopping midway and making my mom finish it up on her own while I went to watch some television or play Guitar Hero. So this was certainly a first for me. And while I had my mom standing by to supervise, and to answer all of my measurement questions (seriously, who knew there’s 16oz in a pound?) this was very much my own doing.

So I mixed all of the ingredients together and put the cake in the oven. 45 minutes later it came out and I watched it cool like a 13 year old girl at a Justin Bieber concert.

In the meantime I called my grandmother.

“Hi grandma. I was looking through “Beyond Tuna Fish” (yes, that’s the name of the charity cook book she put together) and I came across this Dom Ecom Cake and decided to make it.”

“Oh you did? (laughs)”

“Yes. I just took it out of the oven. It’s my first time making any of your recipes so I’m going to bring you a piece to try.”

“Only if it turns out good.”

Seriously? Not, good job! or, I can’t wait! Nope. Not even close.

“Well, I won’t know if it turns out good because I’ve never had it, so I’ll ask mom.”

“Okay.”

After the conversation I served a slice to my mom and she said it was “good.” This made me nervous because I WANTED MY GRANDMOTHER’S APPROVAL. So I tried a slice and it was more like damn good.

So today I brought the cake to my grandma’s apartment in the city. She had just eaten dinner so she was too full to try the cake just yet, so I sat in anticipation. Finally, my grandma came into the room while I was watching the Met game or The Glee Project or something like that and uttered the best words I could hope for, “the cake was perfect. That’s just how it should taste. Good job.”

I swung hoping for a single, but I wound up with a home run. (seeing as I just used  baseball reference I was probably watching the Met game)

So then I asked the question I had been dying to ask: what the hell is a Dom Ecom? The answer, “I don’t know it was my mother’s recipe.”

Finally, civillians can sleep soundly.

 

Some Grandmas Bake Cookies…

…my grandma drinks alcohol.

It was a night like any other. My grandma and I were relaxing while watching the Mets when she said

“if you hear a banging on the wall, please come into my room. I’m not feeling well tonight.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“My chest hurts…”

This worried me considering my grandmother has has bypass surgery in the past and our family has a history with bad heart health.

“…but I just think it’s indigestion.”

“Would it make you feel better if I slept in your room with you?”

Now, before you make fun, my grandmother has a ginormous king bed. Like, seriously. King Sleepy broke the mold when he made this puppy.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Sure.”

I proceeded into my room to grab my pillows and cell phone charger and got comfortable in my grandma’s room. About a half hour or so went by.

“So how are you feeling now?”

“Okay. Maybe I’ll feel better after a drink.”

One thing about my grandma is that she has at least one glass of red wine a day. If not two…or three. Often her one glass will be by her bedside as she goes to bed. Sometimes it will be at dinner, or while watching television. Regardless of where she sips it, it’s a daily tradition for her. My mom loves wine too. And so do her sisters. At any given time my mother has 20 bottles of wine on hand in our household. Mom, if you’re reading this, don’t text me and tell me I’m lying because I’ve counted.

Back to the story: I heard some putzing around in the kitchen so naturally I went to sneak a peak. The ice cream was out. And so was the liquor. I knew this could only mean one thing: chocolate martinis.

Mind you the time was now 12:30AM.

She scooped vanilla ice cream into a blender. Added portions of cream de cacao, Godiva chocolate liquor, vodka and ice. Blended that baby into oblivion and reached for the cabinet where she keeps her glasses. She pulled out a martini glass. Now, my grandma is a DRINKER, so she doesn’t have you typical restaurant sized martini glasses…she has double martini glasses. Meaning, you could take two, possibly 3, martinis you order in a restaurant and pour them into this sucker. It. Was. HUGE. Naturally, she filled it to the brim. She got back into bed and within 30 minutes it was gone.

“I’m feeling better now. You can sleep in your own room.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes…I think I’m going to become an alcoholic.”

And with that, I went to bed.

Personally when I make chocolate martinis I make them with vanilla vodka, but my grandma’s recipe is delicious. Just incase you’d like to serve up a summer treat, these martinis truly are sweet, tasty and refreshing:

Chocolate DitkTini:

Makes 2 (non-grandma sized) servings:

1oz Godiva Liquor

1oz Cream de cocoa

1oz Vanilla Vodka

1-2 scoops of chocolate or vanilla ice cream–your choice!

Pour the ingredients into a cocktail shaker with ice. Shake, strain and pour into two glasses.

To make the drink frothier and frozen: pour ingredients into a blender with ice, blend and pour straight, no strain.