tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88769087663221416222012-01-26T15:26:42.025-05:00Devoted to food and TV and other things that feel good.Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.comBlogger1031100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-35864182169216473742008-07-15T15:00:00.005-05:002008-07-15T15:16:53.179-05:00

Fish Tacos. A'ight, Kids. Gonna pause here to let the giggles die down.There. I've stopped giggling.Every time I hear Californians wax gastronomic about their beloved fish tacos, I grow more intrigued. So today for lunch, in hopes of drowning my sorrows over my favorite LA couple (Sarah Silverman and Jimmy Kimmel) breaking up (I know, right?), I had Pita Grill's take on the MexiCali sea

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-13114941112317898862008-07-11T12:27:00.005-05:002008-07-11T13:08:16.721-05:00

And again, it sucks. The new Texas Style Smoked Beef Brisket sandwich smells like a chemical manufacturing plant, and tastes like parking lot. Okay, the nice, executive section of the parking lot. In the shade up near the building. I happen to know it ain't difficult to accurately duplicate the taste of smoke, but I guess Subway felt the regular artificial stuff wasn't artificial enough. And

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-86601911190729362262008-06-23T09:30:00.002-05:002008-06-23T09:40:25.655-05:00

shitpissfuckcuntcocksuckermotherfuckertits

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-74038900168367743712008-05-29T07:02:00.002-05:002008-05-29T07:07:20.076-05:00

From the "wish I'd taken that" file. This David Folwari image in today's Times captures the essence of a city and takes my breath away.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-63300366459392215752008-05-28T12:18:00.010-05:002008-07-11T13:28:29.575-05:00

Forget former White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan's new bombshell book (I'm gonna get the beau to read it to me real slow while I wank), and the Chicago train derailment Bush caused to deflect from the book... this is big news: Ben & Jerry's has a new flavor. Inspired by John Lennon, Imagine Whirled Peace is "caramel and sweet cream ice creams" placidly swirled with toffee cookie bits and

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-82933671773044667442008-05-25T10:14:00.003-05:002008-05-25T10:24:09.933-05:00

Rowan & Martin's Laugh In was one of only two grown-up shows I remember being allowed to stay up and watch. From the couch, Mom would tsktsk through the blue humor, barely able to mask her guilty chuckles. One of my earliest childhood crushes (after George Harrison and Mighty Mouse), Dick Martin launched my life-long devotion to deep dimples and dirty jokes. Bringing up the back edge of an era,

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-46499079370289030552008-05-16T00:56:00.029-05:002008-05-22T21:18:43.709-05:00

Tale #1A guest who's been dispatched to fetch the Reddi-Whip from my fridge asks why there's lipstick around the nozzle. Dessert was consumed with less enthusiasm than dinner. But I am not ashamed. Unsanitary, yes, but not ashamed. When a girl's gotta have a pie-hole full o' aerosol whup cream, nothing beats standing at the open fridge, wrapping your lips around that white nozzle of dairy(ish)

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-81272001858823753952008-04-24T14:35:00.013-05:002008-05-16T00:31:32.211-05:00

Lacking in sound design and decorated like an Asian circus clown's laundry day (not necessarily a bad thing), Planet Thailand 212 never disappoints. I'd been to the city-side sister of the Brooklyn institution a couple of times before, and always found the food pretty good. But last night, I reached new levels of indiscretion and stuffed myself in a most memorable way, feeling the need to blather

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-19457918560559879092008-04-18T11:49:00.002-05:002008-04-18T11:51:49.285-05:00

Don't judge me. It was an emergency.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-62226407504680143922008-04-17T11:15:00.011-05:002008-04-24T15:21:43.452-05:00

If I had any street cred at all, I'm 'bout to stamp it out like a smoldering Marlboro butt. I watch Big Brother. Notice I didn't say 'I'm a fan of Big Brother.' 'Cause I'm no more a fan of this particular reality show than a junkie's a fan of the needle. But every season, I vow not to become ensnared in this game which rewards those skilled at lying and manipulation. Yet most every season, I fail

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-83160223604112103662008-04-16T09:08:00.005-05:002008-04-30T23:38:35.210-05:00

Had a bad day. A real bad day. This bad day lasted about two and a half weeks. And I don't mean that Catskillsily. I needed a reliable, non-wobbly cheesecake. Yes. A whole one. (See aforementioned bad day reference.) Pretty sure I was married when last I made a cheesecake, so it's been a coon's age. Maybe two. I beat the shit outta the graham crackers (with angry, bad-day-related glee) and

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-3168428538508177622008-04-15T07:18:00.003-05:002008-04-15T07:27:00.596-05:00

The light passing through the cheese danish braids at Whole Foods on Houston is not the translucence of butter laden baked goods, but rather shafts of golden god, prismed through this anointed pastry.Just sayin'.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-68691789010077337982008-04-10T09:28:00.005-05:002008-04-24T15:15:32.448-05:00

Midtown East. Yesterday. No reports yet of literal application, and the ensuing carnage.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-72580953945128113582008-04-08T14:10:00.006-05:002008-04-30T23:36:04.044-05:00

New place on York and 84th. It's not the produce wonderland I'd hoped, but I found the pasta I like and they carry Bob's Red Mill products, so I'll be back. It's clean, well stocked, and boasts two cash registers manned by pleasant young women who giggle when asked about the store's name."I don't know. It's funny, yes?"Yes. It's funny. Double-negativelarious.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-65006495562309255522008-03-16T13:51:00.002-05:002008-03-16T13:59:28.214-05:00

...at Crumbs on 8th Street. The vanilla one with orange (colored) frosting was less than wonderful. The cake was a bit too soft and fine and Betty Crockery, and the frosting too cloying. Perhaps because of the pink jimmies sprinkled atop. But would it have caught my eye without the pink jimmies? No. Just like those glossy-haired but disappointingly vapid women. Often it's the very thing that

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-35484861284786410322008-02-22T14:28:00.001-05:002008-02-23T09:17:31.614-05:00

I felt okay about missing the Clinton-Obama debate in Texas last night because I saw that it was going to be re-aired today at noon. But the rebroadcast was chopped up more clumsily than Tara Reid's boob job. They'd go to a commercial as Clinton was opening her mouth to speak, then return in the middle of a lengthy Obama missive. I'm left not only wondering what I missed, but also guessing the

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-67055458100287612702007-11-10T16:00:00.001-05:002008-02-23T09:22:39.332-05:00

A Wheat Thin schmeared with cream cheese and topped with a dried Turkish apricot.Mmmkay, that's all I have right now. I guess 'cause most things are delicious. Just an excuse, really, to dash off a quick note to let y'all know I'm:A) Still alive.B) Still eating.C) Still itchin' to blather on endlessly about A and B.Thing is, I've been maniacally busy and doing a wee bit of globetrotting (well,

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-9271697213620036892007-08-02T14:32:00.000-05:002007-08-02T14:37:42.704-05:00

Dear Dick Cavett,Of all the intolerant, media-sanctioned sizism I've read (and I've read plenty, this week alone), your "Is Bigger Really Better?" in today's New York Times has got to be the most juvenile. Packed with pinky-out pontification and peppered with racism, for good measure. Strasbourg goose, indeed.Dick.Drunk driving claims far more nonparticipating victims than does obesity, but if

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-60916303773732754352007-07-17T14:38:00.000-05:002007-07-17T14:57:39.580-05:00

I’ll buy anything that’s got a line drawing of the creator’s head on it. (Not god’s head, in case you were wondering. The cook’s.) Which is why, when I plunged my hand into the frosty clutter of my neighborhood market’s novelty ice cream case, hoping the aforementioned god would divine it toward a Bananas n’ Cream FrozFruit bar (which the aforementioned god won’t make the aforementioned market

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-39918454930090806952007-07-10T15:25:00.000-05:002007-07-10T15:36:19.917-05:00

Awfully cool video of female portrait subjects morphing one into the next. Does it prove constants in the Western beauty ideal? Nah. But it’s pleasantly hypnotizing to watch with the sound off while you’re on the phone.ID the artists and works here.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-76744924297284422222007-07-10T14:52:00.000-05:002007-07-10T15:05:10.472-05:00

The pre-cut salad Dole sells to lazy-ass Americans? I just ate an entire 12-ounce bag of the “Greener Selection” (iceberg, romaine, carrot, red cabbage) in one sitting. Doctored up with some broccoli florets, chow mein noodles, and a bit of Mandarin orange. Why such a psycho display of eat-monster gluttony?Kraft’s new Asian Toasted Sesame dressing. Hard to find and chock full of high-fructose

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-80895932159736288612007-07-09T17:27:00.000-05:002007-07-09T18:04:00.648-05:00

Went to a party the other night, and the food was delicious. Planet Thai sushi, calamari, and these pillowy little fried tofu poofs you dip into a thin but ass-kickety pepper sauce. Stellar vittles, but I didn’t get enough of ‘em. It was one of those catching-up-with-peeps-you-haven’t-seen-in-ages shindigs, and after a while, I started no-thank-you-ing the waitstaff when they’d stand next to me

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-34078581127873263732007-07-06T14:14:00.000-05:002007-07-06T14:34:49.503-05:00

A celebration of sweet, sweet irony. Dude photoshops celeb faces onto non-celeb bodies. Couple of 'em made me damn near lose my pudding. 'Specially this one...

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-53904113073880515882007-07-06T10:36:00.000-05:002007-07-06T11:14:43.526-05:00

Some have asked why I don’t post pictures of the meals about which I write. As much as I enjoy food photos (‘tis my emergency back-up porn), it never occurs to me to shoot any. I’m not thinking “blog” when I’m eating, and even when someone’s camera is pulled out (as above), I just don’t think about pausing to shoot the food. I guess it’s that pausing thing that hinders me. Hungry girls have

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-45125099097980623152007-06-22T10:52:00.001-05:002007-06-22T11:03:52.671-05:00

I thought it was a joke. Then I saw it in the Rite-Aid with my own two bb blues. I read the manufacturer’s warning. Still kinda think it’s a joke. Noted for being the first FDA-sanctioned diet drug to be sold over the counter, and for the highly entertaining “side effects” copy, Alli (pronounced ‘ally’) has taken the diet world by storm. Shit storm.“It's probably a smart idea to wear dark pants,

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-7326960729285893262007-06-19T14:57:00.001-05:002007-06-19T15:02:11.678-05:00

Pretty girl, huh? Well, you’re supposed to find her unattractive. Revolted by her enormity, in fact.Brazilian ad agency Salles Chemistri has created a low-fat yogurt campaign featuring fattened subjects in iconic poses, inviting the observer to compare their size to that of the original scenes’ occupants, Mena Suvari, Sharon Stone, and Marilyn Monroe. (Click here to see the plumped up Stone and

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-8548458649934221182007-06-19T12:42:00.000-05:002007-06-19T12:51:40.106-05:00

Generally, combining two fine consumables makes twice as much of a mediocre one. Blended Scotch. Brangelina. Cocaine and Comet.* But I have discovered the reason god invented combinations (aside from supporting the lagging Really Big Spoon industry). Cross Gorgonzola with Camembert and you get the soft, ripe divinity that is Cambozola.Cambozola (which is the sound made when a drunk clown belches,

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-5850266452182765792007-06-18T14:33:00.000-05:002007-06-18T14:40:35.427-05:00

The Adipositivity Project: Trying to change attitudes about the aesthetic validity of big women, one fat fanny at a time.To big asses and kickin' asses! ::clink::

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-89303350864517009132007-06-17T12:19:00.000-05:002007-06-17T12:27:45.060-05:00

You heard me. The new "order, pay, and get outta here" Shopsin's opens June 19th. Selling sandwiches and other walking fare, apparently. Essex Street Market, 120 Essex. Stall # 16. Tuesday through Saturday, 9am to 5. And the old menu's been preserved!(On the website, that is.)www.Shopsins.com

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-46556291102463678552007-06-15T19:19:00.000-05:002007-06-16T14:08:16.239-05:00

Went to a fancy Classical music concert the other night, where attendees were dripping in diamonds and dupioni. Nevertheless, the gentleman seated in front of us occupied himself during the slow parts by excavating earwax with the armtip of his eyeglasses. Just goes to show ya. Something.Fortunately, we were full of beer.Had some time to kill before showtime, and I wanted to show my beau McCoy’s

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-87696038726621353582007-06-15T19:12:00.000-05:002007-06-15T19:16:51.850-05:00

After being assured I’d ordered all the wrong things, I gave Buddha BbeeQ on Second Avenue on the Upper East Side another spin. Crazy-glad I did. The much touted #7 was indeed the go-to selection. Ample and satisfying. The glass noodles were moist and flavorful, and the beef was smoky-sweet and tender. My companion’s chicken #7 was every bit as good. The sow’s ear type dumplings were big as

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-3260863808289681792007-06-14T17:15:00.000-05:002007-06-14T17:52:34.975-05:00

This past weekend. We’d gotten two and a half appealing invitations, but begged off everything, opting to “let’s get lost,” Chet Baker style.Let's get lost, lost in each other's armsLet's get lost, let them send out alarmsAnd though they'll think us rather rudeLet's tell the world we're in that crazy moodThis plan produced one helluva romantic weekend of big, wet monkeylove, but by Sunday

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-80127815075779789702007-06-13T12:27:00.000-05:002007-06-13T12:40:54.952-05:00

Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I don’t have ‘em yet. The above photo comes compliments of X-Entertainment, and depicts last year’s tie-ins to the film King Kong. But something ‘nana this way comes.The sponge tubes launched in the ‘30s using banana cream, and Hostess has had a few limited releases since then, but this time it’s apparently for keeps. Odd, considering just a few short years ago

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-15519205217319065972007-06-12T15:48:00.000-05:002007-06-13T09:34:47.503-05:00

Yes, I know. We’re all busy stuffing dark chocolate M&Ms into our faces, banging on our TVs to dislodge the final scene of The Sopranos, and looking up our friends’ addresses on Google Street View, to see if we can spy them bumpin’ uglies with the drapes open. And others of us are sidelined with a fatigued right groin. Perhaps from the bumping of the uglies. But life is short, people. And there’

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-89733943172024951402007-06-01T19:02:00.000-05:002007-06-02T07:57:06.764-05:00

A bit last minute, but I’ve just learned of a can’t-miss reunion show this weekend at the Art of Jazz Festival. My favorite bespectacled hornpile The Shuffle Demons will be screeching the praises of cheese sandwiches and weed Saturday at noon in Toronto, and again next weekend, with two shows at the Rochester International Jazz Festival in Rochester, NY.Always with the costumes, these guys. Hats

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-49234927751431307472007-06-01T17:05:00.000-05:002007-06-01T17:29:30.243-05:00

Dear [Miss Pleasure Pie],Your CDs have been gently taken from our CD Baby shelves with sterilized contamination-free gloves and placed onto a satin pillow.A team of 50 employees inspected your CDs and polished them to makesure they were in the best possible condition before mailing.Our packing specialist from Japan lit a candle and a hush fell over the crowd as he put your CDs into the finest

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-86192197197376283312007-05-31T10:18:00.000-05:002007-05-31T10:47:05.430-05:00

My favorite New York Horror-Surf band the Coffin Daggers are having a single release party tonight for "Something Wicked This Way Comes," at the Pussycat Lounge on Greenwich. These people are crazy good, live, but sadly, I’ve other plans. You’ll go for me, right? Opening are BonBomb & The Greyhounds.Coffin Daggers Single Release ShowPussycat LoungeThursday, May 31$7.00 – Coffin Daggers go on

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-3423971625540746582007-05-29T12:56:00.000-05:002007-05-29T13:10:40.436-05:00

Fiddleheads, fiddleheadsRoly poly fiddleheadsFiddleheads, fiddleheadsEat them up, yum(Just Googled for the songwriter responsible for “Fish Heads,” and landed on an Ebay ad. “Fish Heads for less!” Now I’m gonna try Googling ‘crotch rot.’)Fiddleheads are the furled tips of the Fiddlehead Fern, so named for its resemblance to the curved peghead of a violin. I think they’re mostly found in the

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-76774493795303196472007-05-28T17:36:00.000-05:002007-05-28T18:01:14.810-05:00

Remember how the Clintons ruined Fleetwood Mac for us? (Okay. Stevie Nicks did that. But you know what I mean.) Well, Hillary’s “Choose Our Campaign Song” contest has reached round 2, and the voters have mercifully given the Mac a rest, but they didn’t think enough of my write-in vote to include it in this round’s options. C’mon, Hills! Why not The Commodore’s “Brick House?” Aren’t you mighty,

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-88076971290871947492007-05-26T14:22:00.000-05:002007-06-13T08:55:39.808-05:00

Possession of this weed, sometimes called “skunk,” is restricted by Quebec law. “A person may have [stinkweed] in his or her possession outside its natural environment or may harvest it for the purposes of personal consumption in an annual quantity not exceeding 200 grams… provided that those activities do not take place in a park.” The law also prohibits the sale of skunk. “Failure to comply

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-46408486443935172132007-05-22T07:45:00.000-05:002007-05-22T20:45:52.783-05:00

Welp, drowning my sorrows didn’t work. Apparently my sorrows wuz hongry, too. So last night I investigated Buddha BbeeQ (1750 Second Avenue), a Korean barbecue place that’s recently opened around the cornerish. BBQ sushi! Why not? I ate spam sushi when the Hawaiian place opened in my ‘hood. Why not sushi made with barbecued beef?Because it sucks, that’s why. Two of my favorite foods are barbecue

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-28013642466984345672007-05-21T14:05:00.001-05:002007-06-13T08:58:31.632-05:00

Having once had a fat dancer friend described in the press as appearing “elephantlike” (and like the heartbreaking dramatic climax of a 1940s movie about the rise and fall of a Great White Wayer, it was excitedly read aloud to her by me, my mouth a few beats ahead of my brain), I was happy to see Claudia La Rocco tackle the topic in the Sunday New York Times. And there’s my comrade Janie,

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-2670020869478763612007-05-21T13:19:00.000-05:002007-05-21T14:15:34.159-05:00

I’m drowning my sorrows in refreshing Italian lemon soda while I endure the agony of not having tickets to Steely Dan at the Beacon tonight. Lucky for me, after numerous requests (mostly from yours truly), FreshDirect is now stocking Limonata soda. Zesty-lish! I discovered it at Trader Joe’s about a year ago, found it at my neighborhood C-Town (at six bucks a six-pack), and have noticed the

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-48795729299119723692007-05-16T08:50:00.000-05:002007-05-16T09:13:36.425-05:00

Had dinner the other night with the juicy Tangerine Jones, "burlesque bitch goddess and illuminatrix supreme." (She's got a sweet side, too. And better table manners than you'd think a bitch goddess would have.) I'm hoping to both corrupt her, and catch her in this Friday's Coney Island show, Big Bad Beautiful Burlesque at the Beach."Burlesque is about honoring all types of bodies! For one night

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-41825593769673016582007-05-15T14:35:00.000-05:002007-05-15T14:42:14.693-05:00

O wise and merciful Lord, I kneel before thee to give thanks for thy creation of that most abundant blessing, Philadelphia Ready-To-Eat Cheesecake Filling, in the 24-ounce tub. Your servant hath tread upon the ground of many a marketplace in search of this manna, O Lord, but Jesus Christ, was it worth it.Follow the label’s commandments as written, I shall not, for that would surely yield a

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-12527096147712799512007-05-11T09:22:00.000-05:002007-05-16T08:13:37.054-05:00

Because it involves one who shares my name, I must interrupt your regularly scheduled blog about pleasure to share something decidedly not. Well. Except for one Louisiana man.Seems the sister of one Austin Gullette heard her pet pig squealing at about 11pm (don’t ya just love stories that begin this way?), and went to investigate, finding her 45-year-old brother “engaging in intercourse with her

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-61840279055966842052007-05-10T12:37:00.000-05:002007-05-10T12:40:43.068-05:00

Life is short. Love your job.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-1935236388307517762007-05-10T12:19:00.000-05:002007-05-10T12:33:30.068-05:00

The Zimmers!

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-38311960158300933062007-05-04T14:24:00.000-05:002007-05-16T08:09:00.349-05:00

In other anus/animal care/Tribeca Film Festival news, Spinal Tap reunites! Rob Reiner has created a 15-minute This is Spinal Tap sequel to drum up (ooh, sorry… sore subject) interest in the six-continent, 100-act, save-the-climate-from-filthy-Republicans Live Earth concert slated for 7/7/07. Read about it here, or just get straight to the ganderin’ here. (Thanks for the heads-up, Jeff.)

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-86832631419925557492007-05-04T14:13:00.000-05:002007-05-16T08:10:29.229-05:00

Saw Avida last night, as part of the Tribeca Film Festival. I was joined by a handful of tres interesting plumpette pals, including the film’s lead, voluptu-pus model/actress Velvet. (This marks the second time in recent months I’ve joined a friend in seeing a feature film in which they appear fully poon-out nude. A record for me.)My expectations were low. Every bit of press I’d read on the

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-70855306480511135202007-05-04T13:02:00.000-05:002007-05-16T08:12:00.825-05:00

Now playing in my head.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-27316701100480103712007-04-26T22:55:00.000-05:002007-05-16T08:06:54.615-05:00

I've just had an hour-long jaccuzi and two Exedrin PM, so I'm too fileted to get into the whole story, but the abbreviated version is I met this playwright last year after a permormance of his one act FEEDER: A Love Story. He got my name from the mailing list sign-in sheet in the lobby, and phoned me to discuss the needs of the play. (The needs were many.) He asked for technical assistance with a

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-39693678894718983292007-04-26T00:16:00.000-05:002007-04-26T00:34:21.617-05:00

So last week I'm having fried cheesecake (wonton-y and crazy good, Okinawa Restaurant on LaGuardia Place) with my friend Janie (of broken speculum fame), and she tells me I was responsible for her getting a gig modeling her ample undiewears in the May issue of Details Magazine. I couldn't be a prouder cheesecake pimp. Girlfriend knows how to represent.Cut to days later. I’m nosing around Penn

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-46675432615779058972007-04-16T10:26:00.000-05:002007-04-16T10:43:37.748-05:00

‘Bout a month ago I came this close to dropping twenty-five crispies on a Towelie towel. I finally talked myself down, using the argument I’m a grown-ass woman, not a dreadheaded dorm-hound. I managed to get past it, but it took damn near as much restraint as it takes me to make an 8-oz. tub of scallion cream cheese last through a weekend’s worth of bagels.Well, again I’m tempted by a silly

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-27633352049804307592007-04-15T13:27:00.000-05:002007-04-15T13:47:03.905-05:00

Woke up in the middle of the night last night, and turned to the tube to put me back to sleep. Heard a phrase that made me understand the ex who once put a foot through his TV, then spent the next ten years without one. “Countdown to custody.” Jesus god. Remember when news wasn’t about Anna Nicole Smith and her sad satellite souls? I almost don’t.Turned the TV off (but resisted the kicking thing)

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-29847559467946392752007-04-13T13:08:00.000-05:002007-04-13T13:14:38.288-05:00

Paging Mister Reusen...

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-31078171515794351532007-04-12T10:53:00.000-05:002007-04-12T11:05:47.802-05:00

Borders Book Store. 57th and Park. Nearly a decade ago. Went to a reading of the newly released TimeQuake. Well before start time, it was already steamy and standing room only. I went back up to street level to smoke a cigarette and think about blowing it off. Standing on the sidewalk, leaning against the brick, I light up. Kurt Vonnegut exits the store alone, and does the same, a few feet away.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-50889514045582951312007-04-11T23:06:00.000-05:002007-04-11T23:27:35.809-05:00

Oofa, Veniero’s. 100+ years of life-affirming Italian pastries. The other night. Guy asked for my order with about ten people ahead of me. Gave me a pang of longing for the now-boarded-up Second Avenue Deli, where two babushka-ed women once clucked at me, “I guess you’ve gotta have the tits to get waited on in here.” (I had the tits, and I was waited on. I don’t see the problem.) I sneered at

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-16319968383321644792007-04-10T18:09:00.000-05:002007-04-10T19:02:16.307-05:00

Rififi + Veselka - Imusteria = Happy American schlock media leads us around by the short and curlies. And we blindly follow them to the lemmings edge, rubbing our sore pubes and asking for more. They distract us from what’s important (war, corruption, the fact that not all Popeye’s carry a full menu and they don’t tell you that until you walk all the way over there and stand in that long-ass line

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-88429664076300580042007-04-09T00:23:00.000-05:002007-04-15T12:10:36.409-05:00

American Idol for fat girls! (‘Cept it’s British.) Into the Beth Ditto -dominated world of plumpette national recording artists (the girls may be fat, but the pickins are slim), comes Plus, an all-girl English band being built, Monkees-style. From RealGirlBand.com:To be eligible for a place in the band, you will need to meet the following criteria: you will need to be female, at least a size 16,

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-32114545572339992452007-04-08T17:52:00.000-05:002007-04-08T23:52:54.950-05:00

Once again, my friend Richard hips me to something wonderfully sick and cool. It’s a delicious sandwich of misogynistic missteps from too few decades ago, in the form of a Secret Romance issue from Charlton Comics. Social engineering disguised as a love story. Boy meets girl, boy manipulates girl, boy dies mysteriously in his sleep while his young widow gets fat again and finds a nice

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-91658389660948820702007-04-06T12:45:00.000-05:002007-04-06T13:00:29.549-05:00

You can keep your Peeps, and those chocolate eggs that ooze faux fowl embryonic fluid? Pass. My Easter basket (were I not a heathen) contains the following:Jelly Bellies – I’m a mix-my-own girl, so I like to get ‘em at one of many dispenser walls in candy shops throughout the city, but prefer Economy Candy on the Lower East Side, or Dylan’s Candy Shop on the Upper East, where they have clear

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-65162094871548992112007-04-03T18:05:00.000-05:002007-04-06T13:02:23.752-05:00

…Every year. The two things that introduce Spring in my world are the annual lowering of the footbridge to Randall’s Island, and the Brooklyn Botanic Garden’s CherryWatch Blossom Status Map showing its first bud. The subhirtella or ‘Pendula Rosea’ trees are my faves, and not just because they have a dirty sounding name. (Also known as ‘Weeping Cherry’, which ain’t much better.) These explosions

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-37273041757010788412007-04-02T08:57:00.000-05:002007-04-02T09:10:57.904-05:00

Over the weekend I went to a shindig crawling with young socialite scenesters. Personally, I was more excited the time I spotted the silver-haired Roy Blount, Jr. at a Paolo Conte concert. And even more excited to find this soiree was catered by Daisy May’s BBQ. Forget Stella Keitel, Adam Levine, and Olivia Palermo (not pictured above). Let’s talk pulled pork.The sandwich was tender and tasty,

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-8962410451379712252007-03-30T11:20:00.000-05:002007-03-31T11:31:12.366-05:00

Attention, Easter shoppers! Screw the hollow bunnies, and look out, Cadbury’s! There’s an anatomically correct, 485,460 calorie Jesus at Lab Gallery on 47th and Lex. 200 pounds of milk chocolate. (Sounds like a Taj Mahal song, dunnit?) Never thought I’d say this about a religious icon, but… like to break me off a piece o' that.(Pass, actually. I prefer dark.) UPDATE: The gallery has grabbed

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-16963127105133120702007-03-30T10:40:00.000-05:002007-04-15T12:12:42.519-05:00

Coming to CBS this Fall. Fugly. Three siblings – two identical twins – pool their money to surgically “perfect” one of the twins, in order to live off the Hollywood earnings of the cosmetically altered one. Starring squeaky plumpette Hairspray alum Marissa Jaret Winokur, willowy gigglebox Nikki Cox (more fun to say than ‘former Bobcat Goldthwait squeeze’), and the

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-45202909044806091662007-03-29T20:04:00.000-05:002007-03-29T20:26:22.962-05:00

Beware, Bwear Be GoneFrom their UK headquarters, Lady B Wear has been catering to trannies and genetic girls of girth for as long as I can remember. But sadly, this nana of the plus size lingerie and club wear world is closing its doors. But to soften the blow, shit’s on sale.The Fit’s the ShitSaid I’d re-post when my new bigger size Substantia Jones T-shirt from CafePress.com arrived, and I’m

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-46075439511392101352007-03-29T09:25:00.000-05:002007-03-29T09:38:08.384-05:00

With all the news of sewage tsunamis, collapsing buildings, the Sunjaya controversy (what’s a Sunjaya and why’s it getting panties in a bunch?), and of course, Britney Spears entering the customary post-rehab-painful-dental-emergency phase of her recovery, I was looking forward to spending the evening curled up with one of my five favorite redheaded sexpots. (Mario Bartoli on The Food Network’s

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-63709468980952262192007-03-26T14:04:00.000-05:002007-04-02T16:33:37.754-05:00

Dear Avenue Stores, Inc.,A couplefew weeks ago, I joined a half dozen of my co-workers in ringing the Opening Bell at the New York Stock Exchange. If you watch Sex and the City, then you know this is kind of an honor, one bestowed only upon titans of industry. Like Carrie Bradshaw. And okay, I don’t know who else. Mostly White Men in Dark Suits, I think. There’s a bit of ceremony involved. They

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-44088262022398296162007-03-23T14:35:00.000-05:002007-03-23T17:09:47.563-05:00

I love me some TV, but Sweet Suave-ay Jesus, do it suck. About 98% of it, I’d say. And I’ve rarely felt that so acutely as this week. Tabloidtainment shows refuse to let Anna Nicole Smith die. Yes, still. There’s that doctor who goes on the ladies-who-stay-home shows wearing his scrubs to show he’s a real doctor. Sally Field jumps the ad shark, getting faux-incensed that her friend “has to set

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-79891457349863758602007-03-20T22:48:00.000-05:002007-03-22T23:27:14.070-05:00

Couple months ago, some fellow fat chicks and I were asked to help CafePress choose some bigger new T-shirt cuts and sizes. I wasn’t able to make the try-on party, but knowing bigger sizes were coming has had me checking the site nearly every day since.They’re here. And they can accommodate up to 64 inches of backtastic.To celebrate, SubstantiaJones.com has pruned some of the dustier old designs

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-79287981073903861672007-03-19T11:44:00.000-05:002007-03-19T11:53:06.846-05:00

Naomi Campbell sweeps up at NYC Sanitation garage. European reporter says because the stilettoed trashin’ista dates German millionaires, the story’s “as important to Germans as the death of Anna Nicole." Miss Pleasure Pie’s opinion of Germans nosedives to near Hasselhoff levels. Closely followed by her opinion of Naomi Campbell.And millionaires.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-2937290505910469122007-03-19T10:33:00.000-05:002007-03-19T10:43:51.251-05:00

I was invited to a rehearsed table read of LARD – The Musical, “an upcoming musical play about size acceptance, love, friendship, all wrapped up in music… and bacon.” (Not to mention a very promising spoof of Grease.) I HopStopped the best Sunday afternoon route to The Knitting Factory by bus. I love me some bus, and choose it over the subway whenever possible, especially on weekends when the

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-66984893555547347102007-03-18T16:50:00.000-05:002007-03-19T11:00:48.872-05:00

Been meaning to write about the Jeanne Lorioz show at the Opera Gallery in SoHo, and now I wish I had, ‘cause it’s closing early. More than half the pieces have been sold, and sadly, removed upon sale. (Opera’s NYC branch is a clumsily run gallery with a retail focus.) What’s left is currently occupying the forward area of the storefront, but gallery personnel tell me they’ll begin taking it down

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-24698355491921526172007-03-16T11:48:00.000-05:002007-03-16T12:08:01.723-05:00

First we schedule our 2007 race riots to begin during St. Patrick’s Day week. Then we say we don’t want drunk firemen leading our St. Patrick’s Day Parade any more. What else will New York City do to put the kip on St. Patrick’s Day? Do away with the Shamrock Shake?Yup. The greater NYC regional McDonalds outlets have voted against carrying the nearly 40-year-old mint milkshake this year. While

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-90004726538168146872007-03-11T17:58:00.000-05:002007-03-19T00:19:32.236-05:00

God help me if I’m violating a trust, but I’ve just gotten an e-mail from Kenny Shopsin, with the above maze attached, and the subject line “permits maze almost over.” The body of the e-mail contained no text. Of course.“Shopsin’s will be open in early April” means the home of the thousandish item menu and the angry handfuls of flour -wielding owner closed its Carmine Street doors in December (

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-50570063728149373042007-03-10T11:39:00.000-05:002007-03-22T10:29:11.701-05:00

Actually, mine’ve been here for about a week, but I can’t type so well with Samoa-sticky fingers. Girl Scout cookies are as American as Antonella Barba Syndrome, and my contribution toward ending the East Coast / West Coast Hip Hop rivalry is I get my cookies from out West. (Actually, it’s ‘cause NYC Scouts are shot on sight by bored cops, so a West Coast sweetheart sends me some every year. But

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-40073405572040697152007-03-09T18:47:00.000-05:002007-03-10T08:41:04.845-05:00

Without “benefit” of US Government subsidies promoting the production and use of high fructose corn syrup, our Coca-Cola lovin’ neighbors to the north and south enjoy a more old school (post-cocaine old school) version of the bubbly treat, made with pure cane sugar. And once a year, we Gringos can get our grubbies on MexiCoke, too.So elusive, even some Members of the Tribe think it’s a myth.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-33964222044239075122007-03-07T06:02:00.000-05:002007-03-20T11:17:20.583-05:00

To open one’s fridge and find a stack of quality pre-made edibles in those black plastic containers, or better, the crimped foil somethin’s-gonna-get-bubbly-in-the-oven things with the peek-a-boo lids? Bliss. SO much better than having children.I began my day yesterday with an undeserved reward. I rescheduled my annual gyno exam. I’m diligent about going every year, but it usually takes me two

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-69155956467805378602007-03-05T15:08:00.000-05:002007-03-20T11:22:27.911-05:00

I’m CRAVING birdsong. And a Bananas & Cream FrozFruit bar. Mostly the FrozFruit bar. Yeah. That bird thing can wait.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-63599597746502642752007-03-04T15:47:00.000-05:002007-03-20T11:25:17.583-05:00

Woke up this morning and squeezed my avocados. Ah, yes. Today’s the day.There is almost nothing finer than having your avocados peak on a lazy Sunday, as Billie Holiday steps into the stereo/confessional and laments her lows at unreasonable volume.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-81322678592937669782007-03-03T10:21:00.000-05:002007-03-16T13:14:59.757-05:00

Uncle Bill comes home drunk and talks sex with his wee wards. Sissy’s relieved to learn that “babies come from love,” not from porking frat boys for meth money. Then Mr. French flirts mercilessly with his Brandoesque employer, who cruelly disregards his advances. (This keeps houseboys submissive and willing. That Uncle Bill is one smart broham.) Ten bucks if you can spot where French is wanking.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-10877167230159586902007-02-28T17:36:00.000-05:002007-03-22T09:44:52.080-05:00

The other day my friend Richard sent me a link to David Byrne’s blog, where he’s talking about visiting Paula Deen’s restaurant, The Lady and Sons in Savannah, Georgia. Richard didn’t know at the time, but I’ve been semi-obsessed with this woman since Christmas, when, while back home in Virginia, I saw her face all over the Smithfield Ham websites I shopped, and heard about her cookbook from my

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-74625602487961505082007-02-28T15:47:00.000-05:002007-03-21T12:52:55.301-05:00

Plenty to be vexed about over the weekend. That sorority kicking out all the fat and/or brown girls (attention, Michael Apted – kindly check in with these young women at seven year intervals and let’s see which group finds more happiness and success, the shallow goose-steppers, or the ones who joined a sorority, not realizing what a sorority is). That, and I discovered that a fluffernutter should

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-70107233263789205782007-02-21T13:13:00.000-05:002007-03-09T19:06:11.180-05:00

“The new Monster Biscuit is made using three half-strips of bacon, a sausage patty, four slices of shaved ham, a folded egg, and two slices of cheese, all on a Made-From-Scratch Biscuit."This lard stack is the wet dream of every cardiologist with alimonies, an expensive mistress, and/or kids in college. (And me.)

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-63857959126945763402007-02-21T12:39:00.000-05:002007-03-12T21:57:56.797-05:00

Giuliani Quinnipiacked several points ahead of Hillary Clinton yesterday (what are you people thinking?), so I escaped into a new Domino’s Cheesy Garlic Bread Pizza.There are two things pizza needs, and chain pizzas haven’t enough of either. Grease and garlic. Unless you add an oil laden topping, this one’s as shine-free as the rest, but they gave it the ol’ college try with the garlic.There are

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-711241875716182622007-02-20T12:29:00.000-05:002007-03-08T19:48:49.003-05:00

Some happy fat suggestions:The happy fat art. The happy fat essay. The happy fat flutterers. The happy fat beats. The happy(ish) fat t-shirt. The happier fat t-shirt.The unashamedly happy triple-fat ice cream.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-87559613157116441942007-02-20T10:05:00.000-05:002007-03-08T18:51:49.788-05:00

Annie Leibowitz employs the shoulder roll and the things-in-the-distance-appear-smaller trick (and surely some fatphobic editing) to make the luscious Jennifer Hudson fit onto the small-minded cover of that altar of vapidity, Vogue Magazine. I feel bad JHud had to be the personification of the joke, but I can’t help laughing at this. The thought of a table of gay men and dried apricot ladies

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-47869257886649036752007-02-19T12:25:00.000-05:002007-03-11T14:27:29.748-05:00

With the traditional Chinese New Year firecrackers Giuliani-ed nearly a decade ago, and regrettably replaced this year by a “limited and controlled” fireworks display (isn’t that like a “limited and controlled” orgasm?), one must find another way to welcome this porcine annum.I recommend taking advantage of the edible-ness of this new year’s namesake, celebrating with what is perhaps my all-time

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-32516983734747569852007-02-16T13:05:00.000-05:002007-03-08T18:57:23.067-05:00

I should be flagellating myself for neglecting to tell you to take your Valentine to see chamber rockers Ethel at Symphony Space last night. Without my guidance, you probably just bought your honey a box of Whitman’s and one o’ them cruelty-packed tattooed guppies, didn’t ya? (Rolls eyes at imaginary readers’ imaginary bad behavior.) I hope to make up for it by reporting on Subway’s new Big Hot

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-89032724961595178042007-02-09T11:04:00.000-05:002007-03-09T15:44:29.519-05:00

I arrived an hour and a half into last night's party, and had to cool my heels in the cold for a few minutes, whilst a bikini-clad girl danced around inside a giant latex balloon, just inside the glass doors. Then the balloon popped, and I was allowed in. Just like in real life.After inviting friend Janie to be my plus one at the opening reception for The Museum of Sex’s KINK: Geography of the

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-9670130926195005062007-02-08T15:59:00.000-05:002007-03-10T08:48:47.586-05:00

I once had an adorable little lady sandwich of goat cheese and olive tapenade at Moby’s adorable little lady of an eatery, Teany, on the Lower East Side. (Recommended side stops: Economy Candy, Babes in Toyland, Orchard Corset.) I’d had at least a bite of everybody’s everything at our table that day, but remember nothing except the olive and goat cheese thing, which was sharp and smoky and salty

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-58159446522960549162007-02-06T19:14:00.000-05:002007-03-10T08:50:03.262-05:00

Scene from a TV newsroom:Ok people, we need 17 minutes on how freak-ass cold it is. NASA wants us to distract ‘em from that wack astronaut love triangle diaper lady, and we sure as sheep sac don’t wanna spend a lotta time on the “oops, we bombed the Brits” story. No, I want wind chills, wearing layers, that how-much-heat-escapes-through-your-head statistic.... Johnson, gimme a graphic on the

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-88944685604762310892007-02-03T03:53:00.000-05:002007-03-29T09:12:46.205-05:00

Dress 'em up, piss 'em off, leave 'em naughty notes in Esperanto. Not as much freaky-fun as Subservient Chicken, but a great timesuck for those of us who can’t get enough o' them upwardly mobile cavemen.

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-68301578240034046322007-02-02T17:29:00.000-05:002007-03-11T14:35:23.319-05:00

It’s been a dark year for leadership. A known sexual predator leading the House caucus to protect children from same. Vocal Senate opponent of net neutrality thinks the Internet’s a “series of tubes.” And the until-a-month-ago Chairman of the Environment and Public Works Committee believes global warming is some vast Weather Channel conspiracy, a fairytale concocted in order to jack up

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-54099741178017636612007-02-01T13:18:00.000-05:002007-03-11T14:38:20.511-05:00

With so many maniacal idiots finding great success (Bush, Trump, James Blunt), I hate to see well-intentioned idiots taking the beating they are today. Between Joe Biden marveling at Barack Obama being “articulate" and "clean” and The Cartoon Network guerilla-ing bomb-scary outdoor ads for Adult Swim’s Aqua Teen Hunger Force throughout terrorist-trap US cities, it’s a dark day for the

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-48399787244167555172007-01-30T16:09:00.000-05:002007-03-11T14:39:49.015-05:00

(Dope-slap him with your pointer to view video. Or if you're the non-violent sort, gently click here.)

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-49818560312117183932007-01-27T14:05:00.000-05:002007-03-11T14:42:47.700-05:00

Speaking of talking dirty via snack food, earlier this week my beau, responding to my jones for the delightful but elusive TastyKake Coconut Cream Pie, ordered a 9-pack shipped to me from their website. The Philly-based goodie monger serves the Northeast, but not to the tune of adequately stocking Manhattan shelves with this particular not-too-confectious confection. When prompted to type in a

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-73042691427216678022007-01-27T13:16:00.000-05:002007-03-11T14:45:16.871-05:00

I’ve just seen the most touching documentary by Director Greg Whiteley on New York Dolls founder and bassist Arthur “Killer” Kane, his post-celeb descent into poverty, attempted suicide, and Mormonism, then subsequent reunion with bandmates David Johansson and Sylvain Sylvain. Though woefully lacking in actual concert footage (a rights issue, I’m guessing), New York Doll more than makes up for it

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8876908766322141622.post-89786474473300530222007-01-26T14:54:00.000-05:002007-03-11T14:50:00.655-05:00

Wanna have your sweet nothings printed onto personalized M&Ms for your Valentine? Order before 1/31/07 and get a free bonus bag of the customized sugar buttons (use promo code VDAYFREE6). With or without the bonus bag offer, their minimum order is four 7-ounce bags at twelve bucks a pop, so either make sure your V-Day target's a big eater, or tone down your text so the goodies'll be suitable for

Miss P-Piehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02505140082497513727noreply@blogger.com3