Where's the queso?

I'm hungry.

I want queso.

I want fresh tortillas.

But the food I want is nowhere near me. I don't mean it's not within walking distance, or driving distance. Heck, it's not even in this part of the U.S.

What I want is Taco Cabana (TacoC as we call it), a 24-hour fast food Tex-Mex restaurant in Austin. Yes, people: Austin, Texas. I want queso, fresh tortillas, refried beans and chicken flamente. (Yes, fresh food made 24 hours a day. FRESH.) Oh great, now my mouth is watering.

Does this happen to anyone else? It has to; it can't only be me.

You move to a new place and really want something to eat -- the only problem what you want is in another state. And I don't mean Philly or NYC; I mean Florida, California and Texas. The pack a suitcase, get a boarding pass and have a flight attendant ask you what kind of drink you want kind of travel. That's what I would have to do to get me some TacoC. ***big sigh***

I figured this would eventually pass, that my mind would stop craving something I have no chance of getting. But NOPE!

So what do you do when this happens? You look for something else and try to find a suitable replacement. I've tried to find alternatives to my cravings, but so far no luck. Not a lot of chicken fried chicken (NO, it's not the same as fried chicken), or chicken fried steak in these parts. Not a lot of Tex-Mex either. Like I've said before, finding queso up North is like finding the Holy Grail. And don't even get me started on barbecue. ***bigger sigh***

Seeking a replacement works ... for a while. You enjoy the local fare and tell yourself you don't really "need" barbecue. Then one day you're sitting there eating your pizza and realize something. You don't want anymore stinkin' pizza. You want queso. You want tacos. You want chicken fried chicken.

And that day, kids, was today. ***biggest sigh***

So, as I look into getting a plane ticket to Austin so I can go to dinner, remember this: Chicken fried chicken is not the same as fried chicken. Trust me.

On the iPod: The Beatles, "1"

The pickup artist

Three girls walk into a bar ...

No really. That's not the start of a joke, but the beginning to my story of why guys should not use pickup lines anymore. Three girls -- the Brooklyn girl, the Jersey girl (me) and the Texas girl -- walk into a bar in Park Slope. (OK, so we're all originally from Texas and went to school together in Austin, but for the sake of the story that's how I'm identifying us.)

We sit at a corner booth that faces the bar and settle in. It's nearing 1 a.m. Brooklyn girl's friend comes up and starts chatting with us, and it seems like a quiet night. Then this happens.

A boy (at least an 8 out of 10) in a button-down white shirt and tattered jeans gets up from the bar. He saunters over to our table and looks at Texas friend sandwiched between Brooklyn friend and I. With a straight face and total honesty the dude asks, "Do you come here often?"

SERIOUSLY? I bite my tongue. I hold back the laughter. This guy didn't just use one of the oldest pickup lines on our friend -- in front of three other people? But ever the lady, Texas friend looks at him with a straight face and says "no." Brooklyn friend, who is able to hold laughter back better than I am, answers with a simple, "She's from Texas."

In my head I'm thinking, "What the hell? I just picked her us from JFK less than six hours ago. Hello, no she doesn't come here often. Can't you think of a better pickup line? COME ON!"

Then he rambles on about the bartender being from Texas, that someone else at the bar wanted to know, that blah, blah, blah. I was too busy trying not to bust out with laughter to really pay any attention to him at this point.

All the while Brooklyn girl's friend had this look on his face. You know the look. The "dude, your striking out; leave before this gets any worse" look.

The boy returns to the bar, and Texas girl losses it. She starts laughing and buries her face in my shoulder so he doesn't hear her. We all look at each other and start to laugh. This wouldn't have been so bad if the guy in the white shirt didn't make an encore appearance. That's right, people, he came back for seconds.

Less than 10 minutes later the guy is in front of us again. Now he claims he didn't mean to hit on Texas girl, he was just asking a question. Right. People, how many times at a bar do you ask someone "Do you come here often?" I make it a point not to. It's one of those bad lines like: "How do you like your eggs in the morning?" or "What's your sign?"

He mumbles about stuff again and then leaves us. You know, he was really good looking, but after that line, he was downgraded. The ladies agreed: It wasn't just a cheesy moment; it was a Cheese Wiz moment.

So, people, what have we learned today? Ladies, if a man asks you this question, politely hold back the laughter. And, gentlemen, try not to use these lines anymore. Like so many other things these days, your words might end up on someone's blog. ***Wicked smile springs from me*** Or commented about on MySpace pages for weeks and weeks and weeks.

By the way, "Do you come here often?" The blog I mean.

On TV: Wolfmother video, "Woman"

Party hearty marty

As a reformed party girl, I'm trying to be on my best behavior while being led into temptation. As I'm trying to break my bad college habits, I find living near the Jersey Shore in the summer a constant lure.

Growing up in Austin I had 6th Street -- a legendary seven blocks of bars/clubs (one right after another), restaurants and shops. That doesn't even include the Warehouse District or Red River sections that border 6th Street. I think there are more than 100 bars within walking distance.

I know bars/clubs are everywhere no matter how large or small the city. But living here presents a problem. There are three, yes THREE, states I could party in.

To people from here, that may not seem like a big deal, but remember, in Austin you have to drive an hour just to get to San Antonio. It takes a whole day to get out of the freakin' state.

When people invade the shore, I head north to the City or west to Philly for salvation.

I don't have to drive; I can simply take the train to NYC. And before you know it, I'm in the Lower East Side having a vodka sour or in Chelsea getting another shot from the cute Irish bartender. (Ah, memories.)

Then again, I could stay with the Bennie and party at the shore. Which is always amusing.

Everyone told me things would change at the shore during the summer.

Then I saw for myself: more people flooded the beaches, and stores and restaurants that were once closed opened their doors. Then there were the fugly men in Speedos roaming the beaches. (Yuck, memories.)

So this summer ... I may not be able to escape the Bennies but I can try to escape the tequila shots.

On the iPod: Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Dani California"

In Vince I Trusted

Off on a tangent #79 Break-ups shouldn't be this bad

SPOILER ALERT: IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN "THE BREAK-UP" AND PLAN ON DOING SO, THEN DON'T READ THIS NEW POST. OR READ IT AND GO SEE "X-MEN" AGAIN -- Y'ALL WILL THANK ME LATER!

The break-up was bad.
No, not my break-up. I didn't break up with anyone.
I mean the movie. "The Break-Up." It was bad.

Now listen. I like chick flicks, I like Vince Vaughn, and I can even tolerate Jennifer Aniston at times -- but this movie . Half the time I was rooting for Vaughn to dump her and the rest of the time wishing someone else was acting opposite him. I decided at this moment that Aniston is not a good actress; she's the same person in all her movies. Maybe she was meant to be Rachel, and that's all.

We see an opening montage of the happy couple, laughing, kissing and opening Christmas presents. It got that "ah" factor out of me, but that soon quickly faded as the movie went on. The more I watched, the less I believed they could ever be in a committed relationship -- much less for two years. I know opposites attract, but they were beyond opposite -- they were wrong for each other.

So why am I blogging about this?
1) I go to an abundance of movies; they're my way of escaping from life. Some watch TV, some go to the gym, some drink. I go to the movies.
2) Sometimes you'll see yourself a little in one of the characters. I spent the first half of the movie rooting for Vaughn and the last half siding with her -- I should have bought a bigger ICEE.

So get some popcorn, a large coke, and some Goobers; the break up's about to begin.

Vince Vaughn as Gary Grobowski: I sat there and agreed with a good number of things he said, thinking to myself, "Shouldn't I be siding with Aniston?" Nope. I was with him. They could do the dishes later, and the apartment was big enough for a pool table (he wanted one; she said when they got a bigger place). She wanted him to go to the ballet with her; he hated the ballet -- why didn't she take one of her friends who actually liked "Swan Lake"? When she broke up with him, I thought "there it is, your out, run, don't look back, forget about the condo. RUN." But then it hit me. He didn't do anything she wanted, he didn't take her feelings into account, he didn't "get" her. So I spent the next part of the movie wanting him to realize what was going on, for the light bulb to go off above his head. Oh, and that guys suck.

Jennifer Aniston as Brooke Meyers: As I watched the first half of the movie, I found myself wanting her to shut up and stop whining. Seriously, "Baby wanted 12 lemons for a centerpiece." Twelve lemons. Who does she think she is -- Martha Stewart? She "wanted him to want to do the dishes." I'm with Vaughn: "No one wants to do the dishes." But then I saw myself in her; I was the scorned ex who wanted payback and acted immature, who obsessed about it, rather than letting go and moving on. I was the one who wept and had nothing else to give in the relationship. At that moment, I called the BFF to apologize for my behavior. (She was one of the people who had to hear about all that crap.) I didn't mean to be a nut. And to all the other BFFs from puberty on: I owe y'all a drink, or several. I never meant to be "that girl."

So where does this leave us? I'll skip Aniston-heavy movies, and instead watch "Friends" reruns on TBS. I still believe in Vaughn. I mean he did do "Wedding Crashes" and "Swingers." He did teach us about being, "So money." But I wish he had bought baby the 12 lemons; maybe then the movie would have ended sooner.

Can't wait for: "Entourage" Season 3 to premiere next Sunday