Criminally Cozy: Shaking it Up Shamrock Style

I may have missed out on getting a Shamrock Shake this year.  But I wasn't about to let St. Pat's week pass without reading a green-themed cozy.  And Irish Milkshake Murder, which is comprised of novellas from Carlene O'Connor, Peggy Ehrhart, and Liz Ireland, was the perfect pick.  Each tale features a mint milkshake and characters that are just as colorful, including an Irish dancing duo, sheep-shearing enthusiasts, and elves in leprechaun clothing.  St. Paddy's décor and treats abound, homing in on those holiday feels.  It's almost as if no one's been murdered at all.

What more could a cozy -- and festive -- fan want?  Not a thing.  

Except that Shamrock Shake.

A Play on Nerds: Monsters are Murder

Whenever I settle in with one of Laura Levine's Jaine Austen mysteries, I know I'm in for the Godiva of treats.  Just like Jaine before downing a pint of Chunky Monkey or her cat Prozac poised to inhale her Minced Mackerel Guts.  So when I opened Death by Smoothie, I was set for a feast.

Jaine's latest gig is as a script doctor for computer geek lovers-turned-lottery winners.  They're over the moon to be producing a play of their favorite sitcom, the all-but-forgotten I Married a Zombie.  Yet the duo's dreams are dashed when their talentless leading lady makes an enemy of everyone on set -- and threatens their romance.  So it's no surprise when someone poisons her green smoothie, recasting the undead diva as dead.

Jaine thought she had her hands full resuscitating the script.  But things get really dicey when her neighbor Lance enlists her to find out whodunit.  His actor boyfriend is a suspect, and if there's anything that love-a-holic Lance can't abide, then it's losing his soul mate du jour.  So Jaine dusts off her detective hat and does some digging.  That is, between emails from her wacky parents, hijinks-jammed job interviews, and entertainingly awful dates, all while fueling herself with another Big Mac and/or buttered bagel.  Jaine's sleuthing -- and life -- make for the most deliciously cringeworthy in the cozy genre.  There's no PI I adore more.

Luckily, I can enjoy Jaine's antics for capers to come.  Because despite her dangerous pass time -- and diet -- she has more lives than Prozac.   

The Secret to a Happy St. Patrick's Day? Everyone Knows it's Minty!

The holiday of hooligans and a classic '60s song are more than enough to get me to succumb to the lucky charms of the Mickey D's drive thru.  So that's where the husband and I found ourselves tonight, making our yearly pilgrimage to get Shamrock Shakes.  Well, I got a Shamrock Shake.  The husband thinks they're too sweet, so he got a mint Oreo shake instead (because nothing cuts sweetness like  chocolate).  Yet Oreos or not, it was a fine way to celebrate not only St. Patrick's Day, but the weekend.  Meanwhile, I'm sitting out my exercises on account of my sugar (and okay, French fry) coma.

McDonald's, you are a cruel mistress.🍀

Yellow Brick Mode, Clover Day Way

Coat: Anthropologie, Zulily

Bag: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's; Necklace: Candie's, Kohl's; Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon; Ring: Express; Barrette: Buffalump, Etsy

Dress: GYK, Zulily

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Crazy Clover Necklace

Sweater: Hooked Up, Macy's

Bangles: B Fabulous; Bag: Target; Dark green scrunchie: Target; Kelly green scrunchie: So, Kohl's

Blouse: Candie's, Kohl's; Tank: Kohl's

Necklace: Modcloth; Headband: Zulily

Jeans: Arizona Jeans, JCPenney

Scarf: Zulily; Fabulous Felt Erin Brooch: The Tote Trove; Ring: Wet Seal; Yellow bangle: B Fabulous; Watch: Boscov's; Bag: Wild Fable, Target 

This St. Patrick's Day, I didn't get around to getting a Shamrock Shake.  But I did wear my green and then some!  Coat of many colors?  Check.  Pot of gold purse?  You know it.  Multicolored but still mostly green scarf?  Couldn't salute St. Patrick without it.  Together, these pieces formed a rainbow, making this rainy day a bit brighter.  As did thinking of clover and Clover Day and Strawbridge & Clothier.  

For those of you not from the New Jersey-Pennsylvania-Delaware area, Strawbridge & Clothier was a local department store on a par with or maybe a slight cut above Macy's.  Its beautiful flagship location was in Philadelphia, but my mom used to take my sister and me to the one at the Echelon Mall (except for one Christmas when the whole fam trekked to the one in the City of Brotherly Love to walk through Dickens's A Christmas Carol display, an experience that turned out to be more frightening than visiting Santa).  Even as an adult, I enjoyed going to the store in the Echelon Mall once in a while (it was super close to my dentist).  Then it got bought out by Macy's in 2006.  I still went, but it wasn't the same.  

In addition to Strawbridge & Clothier's wonderful merchandise, I also really liked the name.  Strawbridge.  It was like a cross between a strawberry and a drawbridge, which appealed to kid (and, okay, grown-up) me.  Speaking of wordplay, the parent company had a discount chain called Clover, and because of this, sale days at Strawbridge & Clothier were called Clover Days.  

Which is how I brought this bad boy back to the topic at hand.

Thanks for understanding, Pat.  I knew you would.           

Two Grifters Off to See the World: Watch the Scam Car, Please

The other night, I watched Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, that 1989 classic comedy about two grifters who charm heiresses out of their fortunes.  Although I'd (somehow) never seen it, the casino and train scenes seemed familiar.  But it wasn't until Michael Caine led his wealthy, would-be wife to meet Steve Martin masquerading as his two-fries-short-of-a-Happy Meal brother that I realized it was almost exactly the same as 2019's The Hustle with Anne Hathaway and Rebel Wilson.  It was weird to stumble upon the original of a movie that I didn't even know was a remake.  Even stranger, I'd watched The Hustle last spring, around the beginning of the quarantine.  And that made me wonder: why was the universe sending me its funhouse mirror image three hundred and sixty-five days later?  To tell me that 1) the secret to life is scamming people, 2) Michael Caine is more than Batman's butler, or 3) Steve Martin and Rebel Wilson are just a wig away from being the same person?

Or, the more things change, the more they stay the same?

Yeah, it's probably that one.

Another thing that won't change this spring (or ever) is my disdain, not for trains, but tram cars.  It all goes back to the time I was six and was abandoned on a tram with a mime.  No, that's not true.  But this is the second consecutive post in which I've mentioned mimes.  I just don't like them (tram cars, not mimes.  Wait, no, it's tram cars and mimes).  It haunts/amuses me that trams are probably still running all over the East Coast and beyond, their tinny warning ("Watch the tram car, please!"  "Watch the tram car, please!") as unwelcome as a parole officer at a pig roast.  

That said, this pic of regular cars on a regular road instead of a tram car parting a sea of sunburned suckers on the boardwalk will have to do.     

Because diamonds to doughnuts, if it's a scam -- I mean tram -- car, then it's got its share of scoundrels onboard.  And I don't want to be tricked into a game of eat or be eaten; I want to live and let live.  Like in The Lion King.  

But while we're on the subject of eating -- and doughnuts -- I wouldn't say no to a glazed Krispy Kreme.

Rival Goes West: Shape Shifter Drifter

Sweater: Nine West, Kohl's

Long necklaces: So, Kohl's; Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Skirt: So, Kohl's

Skirt: Wild Fable, Target

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Shape Escape Necklace

Sweater: Nine West, Kohl's

Clockwise: B Fabulous; So, Kohl's; Mixit, JCPenney; Mixit, JCPeneny; Cloud Nine, Ocean City; Delia's

Sweater: Nine West, Kohl's

Clips: Wild Fable, Target

Jeans: L'Amour by Nanette Lepore for JCPenney

Shoes: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

Top to bottom: Amrita Singh, Zulily; Mixit, JCPenney

Luv Betsey, Bocov's

This Shape Escape Necklace is the anchor of the unlikely elements of this post, namely Nine West, citrus, and Fievel.  For one thing, the necklace is teamed with one of three Nine West sweaters.  For another, it appears with a bowl of oranges.  As for the Fievel bit, you'll just have to wait.

First, Nine West.  I've long been an admirer of the beloved brand, picking up pieces over the years in places like Marshalls, ROSS, and Burlington Coat Factory, and sometimes, if on sale, Macy's.  I still remember this Nine West purple suede pouch purse that I got from Macy's back in high school.  I wish I still had it, along with my shiny purple bow purse from Delia's and my sometimes-lilac-sometimes-lavender Coolwear blouse from Macy's that changed in the light.  (Obvi, the takeaway here is that I need to keep a tighter grip on my Grimace gear.)  But back to our Nine West quest.  I was delighted when, a couple of years ago, the brand landed at Kohl's.  I stocked up on tops, skirts, shoes, and even a bag, many of which you've seen.  And along the way, I began wondering about the significance of the Nine West name.  I was pretty sure that it was a place, perhaps even a magical one.  Phoebe Buffay once said that about White Plains, NY, the birthplace of her and Rachel's new apothecary table.  So I turned to that old guru Google and found out that Nine West is the address, namely 9 West 57th St., New York, New York, where the fashion label got its start.  And I was as disappointed as Phoebe when she found out that her supposedly one-of-a-kind flea market table had been mass-produced by Pottery Barn.  Still, deep down I think I already knew that NYC was involved, even if I did insist, for some dubious reason, on believing that the West meant Wyoming or Utah. 

Now, about those oranges. This isn't my first foray into the orange orchard, although it is the first time I used fresh produce as props.  The husband's mom very generously sent us a huge crate of oranges and grapefruits for Christmas, making this staging possible.  Also, it helped ward off scurvy.

And that brings us to Fievel, that feisty cartoon mouse who, much like the American settlers, fought his way through adversity to enjoy the promised land of the West in the early '90s.  (The mouse arrived in the early '90s.  The setters made it here long before that unless you're counting the cast of Friends).  Which just goes to show that things can change when you least expect them to -- or when you most expect them to, in the case of the Nine West thing.  But wherever you roam, whether it be White Plains, Wyoming, or somewhere out there that exists only in your mind, I hope that you always feel like you're home.

And that you never have to compete with a rodent.  Or, worse yet, kill a rodent you love.

Jost Post: The One About Colin

Like most Saturday Night Live fans, I assumed that Colin Jost was 1) spawned from the spotless teak of a yacht anchored at a Connecticut country club, an idea that was only fueled by those Izod ads he did with Aaron Rodgers, and 2) a bro.  But it turns out that he's 1) a fat kid from Staten Island, and 2) a guy who got beat up by bros.  That's right.  He's from New York City's most undesirable borough, i.e., Pete Davidson's brother from another mother.  In retrospect, I should've seen this coming.  Because bros don't become comedians.  They become fry cooks or investment bankers.  I learned these tidbits and others about Jost after reading his book, A Very Punchable Face.  And that's when I began to really like him.  

Because I didn't -- like him, that is -- when he first appeared on Weekend Update.  I was like, "Who is this clown?  He's no Seth Meyers!"  And the husband was like, "Um, he's exactly like Seth Meyers, only not blond."  But I wasn't alone in my rage disappointment.  In Face, Jost parodies the bad press he received after landing the gig (196):

"I rarely use the word 'hate' and I rarely put words in boldface and underline them and italicize them, but I hate Colin Jost." -- USA Tomorrow

"I'm finding out where Colin Jost lives and I'm going to murder him." -- That Stalker Who Came to My House and Tried to Murder Me

"Two Stars." -- My Aunt in Her Annual Christmas Letter

Still, I began watching Update more closely.  Maybe the husband was right; maybe Jost wasn't as pompous as he seemed.  And his subtle, admittedly wry wit was reminiscent of Meyers's.  Over time, I grew to laugh with him instead of at him, and after a couple of seasons, I couldn't imagine Update without his boyish charm (or without Michael Che's snarkiness).  But it wasn't until I read Face that I found out what was really going on behind the man mask.  He's just a regular guy who just happens to have the perfectly coiffed hair of a Ken doll.  What's more, he wasn't some rent-a-rando who crashed SNL to oust Meyers.  He was good friends with Meyers and had been writing with him for years.  Which just goes to show that even after reading countless showbiz autobiographies, including several by SNL alumni, I still don't know how anything works.  

A Very Punchable Face is very funny.  And not just because it's a book-long joke about the scrappy yet eager-to-please, never-say-die bookworm behind Jost's tennis-anyone? kisser.  But because it includes an entire chapter about an adult Jost pooping his pants.  (See?  I told you he was regular.)  Jost also shares his travel adventures, revealing himself to be a bit of an adrenaline junkie.  Then again, you don't get your mug punched without seeking thrills and, intentionally or not, provoking the locals.  

Here's a passage that I particularly liked, partly because of my own past phone phobia, partly because I get the giggles whenever anyone mentions Omaha Steaks:

"I even get scared when the phone rings because I think, I'm not ready to speak yet.  I haven't figured out what to say.  But when I push through that fear and start saying words, I'm instantly relieved.  That's why answering the phone and talking to another human still feels like a huge psychological accomplishment.  (And that's why I currently have 254 un-listen-ed to voicemails.  The oldest is a call from Omaha Steaks in 2007!*)

*My credit card was declined for the "Surf and Turf Sampler" I bought my grandparents for Christmas." (5)

It's hard to imagine the seemingly sophisticated Jost WHO SPEAKS FOR A LIVING as tongue-tied.  Or spending his years at Harvard consorting with cape enthusiasts.  Or getting kicked out of a Russian nightclub, then leaving his host family their requested teddy bears before slinking back to the States.  Or routinely ordering a cheeseburger and nuggets as side dishes for his McDonald's Extra Value Meal.  And those are just the wholesome parts.  But it's all true (despite the husband's belief that every word in celebrity memoirs is fiction).

As for his relationship with wife Scarlett Johansson, Jost doesn't spill much (way to keep it classy).  But he does say that he and Scarlett first met on the set of SNL when he was just twenty-three and she twenty, which was more than a decade before they'd start dating.  Awwww!  

So, yeah.  I liked this book.  And I can't wait to watch Weekend Update again.  Because how can you not laugh with a guy who's so willing to laugh at himself?  

Still, I don't think I'll ever be able to see Jost without thinking, Get this guy a Porta-Potty!

Coats? Totes. Unless No One Says That Anymore.

Dress: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Bag: Dolls Kill

Pink bangle: Don't Ask, Zulily; Maroon bangle: Iris Apfel for INC, Macy's; Blue bangle: B Fabulous; Yellow bangle: Later Operator, Etsy; Ring: Delia's

Blue Bell Spell Necklace

Bag: Nordstrom

Skirt: Tinseltown, Macy's

Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon; Flower bracelet: Belk's; Green bracelet: Cloud Nine, Ocean City; Giraffe bracelet: Target; Watch: Zulily; Ring: Mixit, JCPenney

Top: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

Bag: Delia's

Shoes: Chase & Chloe, Zulily

Dress: POPSUGAR, Kohl's

Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon; Headband: Capelli, ULTA; Yellow bangle: B Fabulous; Striped bangle: Mixit, JCPenney; Floral bangle: JCPenney; Ring: Making Waves, Ocean City

Top: LC Lauren Conrad, Kohl's

"Totes" and its offspring, "totes magotes," are firmly planted in the parlance of the 2010s.  The only other phrase I remember post-2000 is "throwing (someone) under the bus," which was yet another unfortunate offshoot from that beast known as reality TV.  No, the slang that really sticks in my head is the kind coined in the '90s.  First periods and pimples have a way of cementing stuff.  Here are my lingo list-toppers:

As if.

Don't go there.

Whatever.

Talk to the hand.

Not!

Not! was my favorite.  I said it a lot.  And with that settled, we can move on.  

I know there's only one coat in this post, but the plural means that there are more on the horizon (also, how else would I have wedged in "totes"?!).  This blue number is what's called a teddy coat.  Teddy as in bear because the people at Nine West think it's cuddly.  The husband thinks it looks like Cookie Monster.  Which isn't bad, as far as fictional furballs go.  At least it's not a Gremlin; I'll take it.

Coat: Nine West, Kohl's

Also on the near-junk food front, we have this Emboldened Arches Necklace.  Sadly, no French fries were harmed in the making of it.  

Emboldened Arches Necklace

And now on to calendar news!  I can't believe that next week is winter.  The sun will set on autumn, signaling Mother Nature to spin her sorcery -- and make snow cones.  So I thought now was a good time to post this fally pic of a sunset that the husband took outside our house.  I like to think of it as Pastel Parade Over the Pasture.  True, there aren't any horses.  But that barn-like structure suggests that there could be.    

Finally, here's more nature, albeit of an artificial kind:

In past years, I've perched these little red birds on my Christmas tree or banister.  This year I said, "Hang out on this holly bush.  You'll like it."  Because as every holiday hoarder knows, the cardinal rule of decorating is mixing things up.

Just like with winter weather.

Not!