Pizza

Walk of Shame ³

No…I’m not talking about that walk of shame.

Although a stroll of the “morning after still wearing my cocktail dress and mascara” variety may have been slightly less embarrassing.

Where do I even begin?

Yesterday, Scott and I drove down to Minneapolis to meet his dad for a nice Father’s Day lunch.

I should preface this by explaining that one of Scott’s favorite pastimes is watching various programs on the Food Network. It’s a habit that started in college as a way to vicariously indulge in food while he had to cut weight for wrestling, and ended up sticking. Why one would willingly watch cooking shows when restricting food is beyond me, but apparently, Scott has way more self-control than I do. Shocking, I know.

I can’t even tell you how many places we’ve eaten at simply because he saw them featured on Man vs. Food or Diners Drive-ins and Dives. In fact, we actually saw Guy Fieri, Food Network Host, while eating at one of these restaurants.

I feel like he’s what happens when you mate a 90′s boy band with Paula Deen.

Oh…and we ran into Guy at Anchor Bar, the birthplace of Buffalo wings in Buffalo, NY if you’re curious.

Anyway…I suppose I can’t really complain about Scott’s affinity for tracking down Food Network hot spots, as they always end up being absolutely marvelous. Yesterday’s pick, Pizzeria Lola in Southwest Minneapolis, was no exception.

Unfortunately, it was pouring down rain when we arrived. As we drove past the entrance and saw a good 30 people lined up outside the door, we decided it would be best for Scott to drop me off out front so I could get our name on the list while he parked. At this moment, three things happened simultaneously:

1. I opened the door and stuck one foot out onto the street.

2. My coffee spilled all over my lap and inside my handbag.

3. Scott started driving away.

With me, drenched in coffee, still hanging halfway out the vehicle.

Naturally my response was to scream “DAMN IT, SCOTT!!!!!” and slam the door of our poor little Toyota as hard as I possibly could. For a moment, I worried I may have actually harmed the frame of our car.

That concern vanished as soon as I turned around and saw the line of 30 people, half of them small children, staring at the spectacle that has just occurred not ten yards in front of them.

The line of 30 people I had to immediately walk past in order to put our name on the list.

The line of 30 people I had to stand with for 45 minutes while we waited for our table.

Walk of shame.

If I recall correctly, Scott described the incident as “a scene and a half”, before laughing hysterically at all the stares I intercepted from youngsters wondering who the “mean lady” was.

In a nutshell, that’s how I ruined Father’s Day.

Although, some might argue that I truly ruined Father’s Day by drinking too much wine and talking non-stop for 90 minutes while everyone attempted to ignore me and get on with eating their pizza.

Scott has also suggested that the post-lunch wine-fueled IKEA shopping spree (which involved $700 and a smattering of bookcases and assorted potted foliage) may have also contributed to my general act of putting a damper on things.

Whatever — at least the pizza was good, right?

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Yeah, it happened ²

This week has been a random smattering of events that on their own, aren’t really all that special.

But together? Together I believe they can be great. Kind of like on Captain Planet, when all of the individually lame planeteers held up their ring pops and combined their powers summon the captain himself.

Katrina’s blog posts. They’re our hero. Gonna take pollution down to zeeerooo.

No, I’m not going to write about the environment. Or take pollution down to zero.

I may, however, craft a clever PSA about how to safely eat gummy worms.

Without further ado, I give you my life over the past few days.

*****

I decided it would be a good idea to invite my dad to the tail end of a happy hour with my coworkers.

Spoiler alert: not a good idea.

He showed up, and proceeded to tell them all about how he’s saved my childhood hair, teeth, and baby fingernails in various Tupperware accessories. He claims I’ll thank him one day, especially for the teeth.

Seriously Dad…what am I going to do…make a necklace out of them?

Now I’m afraid to face all my colleagues at work tomorrow.

Yeah, it happened.

*****

I showed up a bit early for happy hour with my friend Carina the other night, and made the mistake of choosing a booth that was perpendicular to a bar table.

A bar table that just so happened to be occupied by two young professionals on a first date. I was literally eighteen inches from them, and it was too late to stand up and find a new booth.

I sat there alone for a good ten minutes, staring the crap out of their date and listening to them talk about how much they love Downton Abbey and Pagliaci Pizza.

And then, I accidentally sneezed on them.

Yeah, it happened.

*****

I choked on a gummy worm in the middle of an important presentation at this week’s conference.

Just for the record, choking on a gummy worm is the most humiliating choking of all.

Eventually I had to run out of the room and have a recruiter standing outside slap me on the back until the worm was dislodged.

Yeah, it happened.

*****

I’ve been very diligent about taking my oral typhoid vaccine in preparation for an upcoming trip to South America. There are four pills in total, and I need to take one every 48 hours.

I took the last pill 12 hours late on accident. The “good” news is, there’s only a ten percent chance the vaccine won’t work as a result of my carelessness.

I think that information was supposed to make me feel better…?

(If I die of “the fever” while I’m in Ecuador, I’m leaving all my handbags to Jolie.)

Yeah, it happened.

****

My feet hurt so bad after happy hour on Monday, I hailed a cab to drive me two and a half blocks to my car.

It was the best $2.75 I ever spent.

Yeah, it happened.

*****

I decided to wear jeans and a ratty sweatshirt to the conference today. I mean, the place was just full of ~~nerds~~ fellow web designers, anyway.

Then I remembered I was meeting some girlfriends for a “first date” after work . (More on this later.)

I rushed to Nordstrom and bought a new outfit, which I quickly changed into in the extremely large fourth floor bathroom.

Of course, this involved getting lost in the extremely large fourth floor bathroom and accidentally barging in, uninvited, to the nursing mother’s section.

It was beyond awkward, and I almost got sprayed.

I then tried my very best to discreetly hide the ugly sweatshirt in my suspiciously bulging handbag before heading to the restaurant for drinks.

Yeah, it happened.

*****

I laughed so hard at something I read on the internet, it made me kick a full glass of OJ all over the carpet at my sister’s apartment.

At least it’s better than laughing so hard it comes out your nose…

I then cleaned it up with her very best towel.

What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Yeah, it happened.

*****

I ate full meals at both Red Lobster and Azteca this week.

Out of my own free will.

One of these culinary adventures may or may not have involved a scandalously fattening appetizer most commonly known as the “Mexican Pizza”.

The margarita made me do it.

For the record, no one should ever, under any circumstances ingest a Mexican pizza.

Yeah, it happened.

*****

While writing this post, I sang the Captain Planet theme song approximately 6.5 times.

At least I think it was the theme song.

(The margaritas made the lyrics…if you can even call them lyrics…are a tad bit fuzzy.)

Now, go recycle something so I can feel a tiny bit better about this terribly asinine analogy.

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Guest Post: What Not To Wear

FlyQuest 2012

Oh my wordy, look who's 30!

Make new friends, but keep the old ⁰

Let me start by saying that Scott, Jolie and I safely made it to Minnesota Sunday afternoon. It’s all still very surreal, yet there’s something about stepping out into 16 degrees that slaps you in the face and screams “You live here now!”

Despite the low number on the thermometer, it was a beautifully sunny and clear day–it didn’t actually feel that much colder than Seattle.

Jolie may beg to differ on that one.

"Wait a second...I thought you said this white stuff was frosting...?"

The fact that we’ve officially moved hasn’t quite hit me yet. We’re staying with my in-laws, who we visit at least once a year, so it still sort of feels like just another family vacation. Although we normally visit them in July, so the snow is a bit of a change.

This morning's view from the back deck

I’m sure once we start house-hunting later reality will start to set in. Especially as homes in the town we’re moving too are a little more, um, rustic that our urban condo in Seattle.

"Wood" seems to be a common theme in all of the rentals we've considered.

Wood paneling, wood counters, wood ceilings. You name it, it’s wood.

Looks like I may have to revise my ”Mid-century modern meets Danish minimalism” decorating concept.

Although we haven’t found our new home yet, I’m just happy to finally be here. After getting back from Hawaii, we had less than one week to pack everything up and get out-of-town, which was exhausting, to say the least. Add to this the fact that I didn’t take any time off of work, and was battling the cold of the decade. It was a recipe for disaster.

Or a recipe for a party.

Remember my birthday gone wrong that ended at Zayda Buddy’s Minnesota Pizza Bar?

Scott and I returned to Zayda’s for our Minnesota-themed going away party.

Yes, we threw ourselves a going away party. We’re going to make you miss us whether you like it or not.

Zayda Buddy’s serves tater tot hot dish, names their pizza’s after Norwegian Vikings, and plays Minnesota hockey on all of the big screens. It was the obvious choice.

No, it was the only choice.

I woke up on Saturday feeling sick as a dog: miserable, crabby and congested. The last thing I wanted to do was spend the day cleaning our condo before we left.

And I really didn’t want to go to my party.

But, a girl only moves from Seattle to Minnesota once, so I rallied. After hours of vacuuming, touch up painting, and somehow cleaning the bathroom despite the fact that all of our cleaning supplies were already packed and on their way to Minnesota, it was time make one last pilgrimage to Zayda Buddy’s.

I popped some DayQuil, slapped on some lipstick and walked across the street to self-medicate with a few spicy bloody marys.

I must have done something right — Scott, Jolie and I, along with 50 of our closest friends, shut the place down.

Ya, sure, you betcha.

I was beyond touched that so many of our friends were able to come celebrate with us. The last two and half years in Seattle have been some of our best yet, due in large part to all of wonderful people who became a part of our lives there. Truly, I think the last time we had this many friends in one room was our wedding in 2007. Really, the only difference between the two occasions was that I chose to wear a sequined Minnesota Vikings jersey as opposed to a white gown.

Is it bad that I might actually like this jersey MORE than my wedding dress?

Also different from our wedding? The food. Instead of fancy schmancy hor ‘d’ oeuvres, we got down to business with the Chelsea Chelsea pizza.

Chelsea Chelsea pizza Zayda Buddys Ballard

At first glance, it looks like a perfectly innocent pepperoni pizza. And then you realize it's covered in macaroni and cheese. I should probably mention that after demolishing this delightful meal we proceeded to pound a bucket of fried cheese curds.

Again, pretty sure I liked the food at Zayda’s better than the food at my wedding. If all of the food in Minnesota is like this, I’m going to need jeans with an elastic waistband.

I really hope it doesn’t come to that.

The party lasted until two in the morning, at which point, a large group of friends came over to our empty condo for wine, chit-chat, and wrestling.

Yes, wrestling. This is my husband we’re talking about, after all.

It's amazing how much space there is to wrestle when all your furniture is gone.

The same husband who actually said “Wow, we should have gotten rid of all our stuff a long time ago. I could have been wrestling in here all along!”

So apparently, he is on board with my Danish minimalism decorating scheme.

After a few hours of wrestling, and one last look around the place, it was 5:00 am — time to leave for the airport.

That’s right, I pulled an all-nighter, despite being sick with the plague and exhausted from a week of working and moving.

But for one last night on the town with my friends? Totally worth it.

Leaving a city full of people I love behind is beyond difficult, yet I can’t help but think of all the new friends we will hopefully make in Small Town.

It may require posting a desperate ad on Craigslist, but I will make friends in this new town if it kills me.

Considering Craiglist’s track record, it just might literally kill me.

All jokes aside, with new places come new adventures, new experiences and most importantly, new relationships.

If I had never moved to Nebraska, I wouldn’t know Lindsay, Krista, Kori, Sara or Katie.

If I had never blindly relocated to Syracuse, I wouldn’t have met Tim and Robyn, Vanessa and Streeter, Margaret, Barbara, Andy, Tim…the list goes on.

And if two and a half years ago, Scott and I hadn’t trekked across the country to move into a tiny little condo in Ballard, we would never have crossed paths with most of the people who celebrated with us on Saturday.

Thinking about the friends we have made, and the ones we have yet to make literally warms my heart.

Which is a good thing, because it’s really freaking cold outside.

I think this shirt would look AWESOME with my new elastic waistband jeans. And it will obviously help me make lots of new friends. Duh.

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Goodwill Emperor

Hipster Pizza ²

I have a deep-rooted love for Take n’ Bake pizza.

This undoubtedly stems from the fact that I worked at the Parkland Papa Murphy’s during high school and college. Let’s just say I can braid a mean Chicago style stuffed crust.

The love for all things “Papa” runs in the family. My father frequents the Parkland store at least once a week, offering to rescue any custom ordered creations that were failed to be picked up. These leftover pies are sold at half price, which almost makes up for the fact that we sometimes end up eating pineapple sausage pizza with alfredo sauce.

I also happen to have an A-list connection at Papa Murphy’s. My dear friend Carina does PR for the Puget Sound area stores, and gets to ride around town in this bad boy.

Meet "The Murph Mobile". He even has an oven in the back.

I am beyond jealous of this thing. She let me drive it for five minutes once. It may have been the highlight of my ~~week~~ life.

Unfortunately for us city-folk, Seattle Papa Murphy’s are few and far between. Every time I have a hankering to bake something in my oven without actually preparing it, I am forced to go here.

They refer to it as “artisan pizza in the raw”, which roughly translates to “hipster pizza”.

This is probably my favorite quote from their website:

“And they [the founders] knew – with that unshakeable knowing reserved for those few things in life you would bet your bottom dollar on – that a pizza is never just a pizza.”

Call me crazy, but sometimes, isn’t a pizza just a pizza?

To grasp the true essence of hipster pizza, we must first understand the hipster himself.

Here’s what urban dictionary had to say:

I have some advice for the coolest of the cool. Quit trying to make ~~fetch~~ deck work.

What? Hipsters don’t like Mean Girls?

Doesn’t the hipster kind of sound like a mythical creature? Are there really people out there with only 2% body fat? Does this mean Rachael Zoe is a hipster?

"I die."

Suddenly, I understand why a normal human being can eat an entire large pizza from ‘Zaw without actually feeling full. I suppose this is so the hipster can still fit into his microscopic denim.

Janss wearing skinny jeans and eating 'Zaw pizza in Seattle

This slice has only 8 calories. Long live the skinny jeans.

The piece he’s noshing on was from the rhubarb pizza. That’s right, rhubarb.

So what else constitutes a true hipster pizza?

Hipster pizza is delivered. On bikes.

Hipster pizza comes from a land filled with cheap furniture that's trying too hard and an abundance of over-priced wine. Hopefully you'll be distracted by hipster magazines and overlook these discrepancies.

Two hipster pizzas cost $28, even after redeeming a $20 Groupon.

Hipster pizza is never seen in public without its Ray-Bans...

...or its trusty Converse sneakers.

After the first slice, I could begin to feel the hipster poison seeping into my bloodstream. I quickly ripped the Ray-Bans off rhubarb’s face, succumbing to the voice in my head which urged me to mess up my hair. It was as if I were a werewolf beneath the full moon. I had become what I hated.

Now I just need a pack of organic cigarettes and some ironic suspenders.

Thank goodness Extreme Couponing was playing in the background.

The show is hipster kryptonite.

I quickly snapped to my senses, returning to the normal Katrina who loves her quality time with TLC.

I know, I’m so not “deck”. But I refuse to sport an androgynous haircut and pretend like I care.

P.S. Did you know Papa Murphy’s has been around for 30 years? I doubt ‘Zaw will last that long. Even if they do, they will definitely be too old to be considered hipster. I don’t care what you’ve seen at Whole Foods — parents walking around in transparent unisex tees with asymmetrical bangs, rocking out to Mumford & Sons is just wrong.

But enough complaining. I’m off to do some extreme couponing of my own on the Papa Murphy’s discount page. Maybe I can score their famous Cowboy Pizza for free. Even if it does cost me a couple of bucks, I’m comforted by the fact that the toppings will not be arranged to make my dinner appear to be wearing a trendy plaid shirt.