This is the kind of bullshit Sarah sometimes comes back to when she’s working.

This may prove to be my best purchase of the summer.

Sometime in February, I was spending a Saturday night doing my favourite thing: lying on the couch watching TV and periodically checking Twitter, only to scroll past my friend Melissa rhapsodizing about the lemon meringue donut from Dough. Knowing she lives in another part of town, I mentioned the superior donuts at Bomboloni, not far from here. Melissa was, justifiably, offended that I thought she didn’t already know about them. The exchange gave me an idea: a New York City Donut Crawl — like a pub crawl, but with donuts. Melissa was in. Sarah jumped on too. The date was set for April 17.

Hatching this whole plan was really out of character for me because I’m kind of a health nut. HAHA just kidding, I had spent the previous weekend gorging on Easter candy at my sister’s house, so I might have paid some Twitter lip service to the idea that I was going to end the day sick, but I was pretty confident that, having not eaten anything since a very full lunch late-ish on Saturday, I’d be able to put away a good number of donuts over the course of the day. We stopped at Bomboloni and picked up a few to bring to our first stop; Sarah was bringing a representative sample from the 7th Avenue Donut Shop in Park Slope, and Melissa was bringing some from Dough.

At Doughnut Plant — where the line snaked well out the door – we were seriously, SERIOUSLY spoiled for choice. Since Melissa had asked for a Toasted Sesame, which had been my original choice, I went with the Vahlrona Chocolate instead; Sarah’s original idea was to compare the classic glazed across as many stores as she could, so I got her one of the Vanilla Bean Glazed. We took our four shops’ worth of donuts to a nearby park so that we could eat and Melissa’s son — let’s call him Woolyknickers Jr. — could run around.

I am ashamed to admit how quickly I slowed down. I ate the whole Vahlrona — it was very melty and wouldn’t have kept — but then we all started picking at the various varieties. From Bomboloni, I had brought Cotton Candy (which I thought a kid of Junior’s age would like), Raspberry, Nutella, and Toasted Marshmallow. From Dough, Melissa had brought the famous Lemon Meringue, as well as Chocolate Chipotle, Blood Orange, Dulce de Leche, Hibiscus, and Lemon Poppyseed.

I picked at a few (all amazing) before getting bold and going for the Lemon Meringue and OH MY GOD YOU GUYS. It’s a fluffy yeast donut filled with tangy lemon curd and topped with a giant dollop of toasty-topped meringue. I am a fierce partisan of Bomboloni’s Toasted Marshmallow and their Raspberry, but Melissa was right: the Lemon Meringue was unreal. I have to call it the day’s Best In Show.

From the park near Doughnut Plant, we walked up to Dessert Truck Works on Clinton Street. They only had two varieties of filled donuts — Nutella and Vanilla Creme — but they’re made to order and rolled in coarse sugar, so when they are delivered to you, they’re sweet and warm and smell unbelievable. Dave had mostly been documenting the day (all the photos are, of course, his), but he made an exception to try the Nutella.

At this point, Sarah had to peel off to go back to Brooklyn, so though we had one last stop to make (at the old-school Donut Pub), we marked the day by flashing our new Donut Crawl gang sign, courtesy of Dave.

Melissa was bringing the spoils (literally) of our gluttony back to her husband, but outside Donut Pub, I tried a bite of the Toasted Sesame and named it the day’s second-place finisher; Bomboloni’s Raspberry came in third. And then Melissa and Junior went back to Williamsburg and Dave and I walked home. All told, between all the bits I tried, I probably ate a total of four donuts…but most importantly, I confirmed that time spent eating donuts anywhere other than specialty artisanal shops is, quite simply, wasted.

Obviously, we need to do a Bagel Crawl next. I’ll probably be ready this time next year.

[2/22/11 5:10:45 PM] Tara Ariano: I have a serious America question, guys.
[2/22/11 5:11:44 PM] Mark Lisanti: And now you will ask a question that reveals our lack of knowledge of our country.
[2/22/11 5:11:56 PM] Tara Ariano: No, I think you’ll get this one.
[2/22/11 5:12:12 PM] Tara Ariano: How would I go about acquiring Girl Scout cookies if I don’t know any Scouts or Scout parents?
[2/22/11 5:12:19 PM] Tara Ariano: Because, by the way, I have never had a Girl Scout cookie.
[2/22/11 5:13:44 PM] Lindsay Robertson: The only good ones are the Thin Mints
[2/22/11 5:14:37 PM] Mark Lisanti: THIN MINTS, Tara. All. Day. Long.
[2/22/11 5:14:44 PM] Mark Lisanti: Put them in the freezer.
[2/22/11 5:14:48 PM] Tara Ariano: I’ve heard that.
[2/22/11 5:14:52 PM] Mark Lisanti: They are amazing.
[2/22/11 5:15:10 PM] Tara Ariano: I think the Girl Guides (the Canadian/British/other Commonwealth version of Girl Scouts) did a Thin Mint equivalent.
[2/22/11 5:15:27 PM] Tara Ariano: It’s a chocolate cookie (like the cookie part of an Oreo) coated in minty chocolate, right?
[2/22/11 5:16:21 PM] Lindsay Robertson: Yeah
[2/22/11 5:16:26 PM] Mark Lisanti: If you do find them, buy 10 boxes.
[2/22/11 5:16:42 PM] Lindsay Robertson: The thing with thin mints is nobody can eat just 25.
[2/22/11 5:16:46 PM] Tara Ariano: hahaha
[2/22/11 5:16:50 PM] Lindsay Robertson: like, a sleeve is a serving
[2/22/11 5:16:54 PM] Lindsay Robertson: for EVERYONE
[2/22/11 5:17:19 PM] Lindsay Robertson: they’re more of a drug than a cookie
[2/22/11 5:17:38 PM] Lindsay Robertson: you have to ask yourself “am I ready to get into thin mints?”
[2/22/11 5:17:43 PM] Tara Ariano: hahaha
[2/22/11 5:17:47 PM] Lindsay Robertson: and be a thin mint person and hang out at thin mint bars?
[2/22/11 5:17:48 PM] Mark Lisanti: You will be pounding sleeves.

Dave: Which one do you want?
Tara: This one?
Dave: Oh, the ugliest one?
Tara: Well, why did you ask me to pick if you knew which one you wanted?
Dave: I wanted to see if you had an opinion.
Tara: You wanted to see if my opinion was wrong.
Dave: And boy, was it ever.

Dave and I are newly returned from Maui, as I am straight unable to shut up about, apparently. While there, we enjoyed all the usual things one does on a Hawaiian vacation: visits to the beach; drives through lush, picturesque valleys and rainforests; visits to interesting lava formations; pineapple.

One thing that has typically been missing from our trips to Hawaii is the opportunity to do much shopping. Once a tourist has bought a miniature carving of King Kamehameha and a necklace with a hula girl pendant whose skirt and each leg move independently, you’ve pretty much shopped the state. Or so I thought, until we got slightly lost on our second day and ended up driving past an establishment called Women Who Run With Wolves (subtitled: More Than A Boutique). In a gigantic stroke of luck, when we went back later, the clerk was busy with other customers and had her back to me nearly the whole time, so she didn’t notice me as I went about shooting photos. And here they are.

When is the store open? Oh, 10ish to 6ish. Women who run with the wolves can’t be bothered with any tool of the patriarchy — especially an alarm clock.

Another sign on the door carries on the motif, sort of: one doesn’t run with these wolves; one waits one’s turn on the thoroughfare.

Inside, the theme gets a bit confusing. We may be dealing with fierce goddesses who have no compunction about baying at the mood when the spirit strikes. But these goddesses also need someplace to hang their earrings and bracelets when they’re getting ready for bed.

It’s hard to imagine taking home the fairy mermaid surrounded by goldfish minions, and placing it in a home without decorative masks on the walls.

Or, if not masks, then a wolf-emblazoned dreamcatcher, cheek-by-jowl with a tiny reproduction of “Starry Night.”

In case you couldn’t tell what’s under the dreamcatcher, by the way, it’s a couple of fairies hanging out under a pentagram.

Is the journal with the fairy goddess presiding over her forest 100% eco-friendly? I can’t even fucking believe you would ask that. OBVIOUSLY IT IS.

Buddha in front of some Keane/anime girls next to a ballet-dancing pewter frog, with like a geisha. Also there’s some lingerie and a red crystal fortune-telling ball.

“Live well. Laugh often. Love much.” Right on, my sister. AWOOOOOOOO!

]]> http://www.taraariano.com/women-who-shop-with-wolves/feed/ 9 http://www.taraariano.com/thoughts-on-vincenza/ http://www.taraariano.com/thoughts-on-vincenza/#comments Thu, 26 Mar 2009 22:09:06 +0000 Tara Ariano http://www.taraariano.com/?p=1296

11:35:04 AM Tara Ariano: http://www.sexypeople-blog.com/2009/03/vincenza.html
11:35:12 AM Will Edmondson: wowww
11:35:20 AM Tara Ariano: “1988, Italy”
11:35:22 AM Tara Ariano: TO SAY THE LEAST.
11:35:22 AM Will Edmondson: what do you think the creator of the sweater is thinking
11:35:29 AM Will Edmondson: when they market that garment
11:35:30 AM Tara Ariano: “Fuck yeah!” (In Italian.)

Hey, do you guys want to see why I’m not going to be buying Baked Lay’s, Flat Earth, or Smartfood? Check it out!

I can’t think of a better way to celebrate Women’s History Month than with the kickoff of an ad campaign so sexist and retrograde that it would be too hackneyed to show up in a “Cathy.” Like, I know that at least a couple of women had to be involved in this atrocity, to do the voices of the “characters,” but any woman who may have worked on writing it or drawing it or conceiving it in any way is a complete Uncle Tom of womanhood. Appalling.

As some of you on Twitter already know, since he quit his job back in December, Dave has had a new alter ego: HH, short for “House Husband.” (Accordingly, my daytime identity is “BW,” or “Bread Winner.”) And I have to say, HH is the best thing that’s ever happened to our household. Having HH in my life is probably as close as I will ever come to having a personal assistant. I give HH a grocery list, and I come back from work, he’s done the shopping. He drops off the laundry, gets it delivered, and puts it away. If you need things photocopied or couriered or repaired, he’s all over it. He does all the cooking. He does all the cleaning up. He makes it possible for me to make Couch Saturday happen every Saturday. But nothing could have prepared me for HH’s greatest triumph.

One day when I was lamenting how quickly HD shows fill up our DVR, Dave mused that Time Warner might actually have an HD DVR by now with a greater memory capacity than the ones we have now. “You should find out,” he added, to which I replied, “That sounds like a job for HH.”

Well, HH took that notion and ran with it even further than I could have imagined. He did the research, found the combination of cable company-provided DVR and external hardware, and ordered up a DVR expander that increased our recording capacity by 800%. That is not a typo: eight hundred percent. I could record every depressing documentary, embarrassing reality show, and idiotic comedy that strikes my fancy and not remotely fill it. Frontline every week? Yes. The Death Of Mr. Lazarescu? Yeah, I think that was on my Netflix queue (before Dave made us cancel it). Hot Rod? You better goddamn believe it.

HH is the greatest, you guys. I don’t remember life before HH, and I don’t mind saying I hope we never have to live without him.

Normally, I try not to cheat on Dave with anyone else’s graphic t-shirts, but with Glarkware about to go on a brief hiatus (back in February, y’all!), I think I can make an exception for Barack Obama on a unicorn.