Everyone loves a Boston girl. This is the story of one Boston girl's adventures in the city, in blogging, and in getting through those crazy 20-something years.

I'm a writer by trade. And by passion. I'm a lover of food, friends, and all things Boston. I listen to music pretty much 24/7 and idolize Martha Stewart. I love my job(s), my life, and this city. Follow me on Twitter! @Susie

Archive: March 2007

setting the women’s movement back with a passion for cooking.

Last night I was accused of being anti-feminist. I was in my column writing class and after a girl read what the column I wrote, she said I sounded very anti-feminist. The column I wrote was similar to this blog posting-http://lovebostongirl.blogspot.com/2006/12/excite-me.html about how my tastes are changing and instead of wanting toys and games for Christmas, I want Kitchen Aid mixers and frying pans. So, my classmate said she was raised to NOT want these things and to know that she can do anything outside of the kitchen and won’t be stuck cooking for anyone.

I was actually kind of shocked. All of the sudden I felt like a little housewife who feels like my place is in the kitchen. And my class of 12 liberal females was staring at me like I was setting the women’s movement back 100 years. How could I explain my want for kitchen accessories?

I realized that unlike my classmate, I grew up with the understanding that cooking is not the woman’s job, but that it is for men and women, equally. And furthermore, cooking is not a job, it’s a passion. Something everyone wants to do! When I was growing up, my parents were constantly cooking together, trying new recipes, watching Julia Child, and taking classes together. I always thought of cooking as a positive and not a negative. While cooking is nice to do for someone you love, it’s even better to do with someone you love. I’d have no problem cooking the man I love dinner every night, not because I have to, but because it’s something I love doing. But even better, I like cooking with the man I love, trying new things together, and yes, buying kitchen accessories together.

I know it’s not something everyone loves to do, but that’s what hobbies are. And one of my hobbies is cooking, not one of my jobs. I feel sorry for anyone who has to give up cooking because it’s “anti-feminist.”

Now, my dad is retired and my mom works full-time. Every day when she comes home from work, my dad has tea ready for her. And every night, he cooks her dinner. And he usually does the dishes too. How’s that for feminism.

happy st. patty’s day…whatever that means.

When did St. Patrick’s Day become a holiday about getting wasted on green beer, wearing green clothes, and painting shamrocks on your face? I don’t know, but to tell you the truth, I don’t really care. Anyone who knows me knows that I usually care about holidays. Meaning, I can’t stand when people get the day off from work but have nooo idea why. Sounds lame, but it’s true. Therefore, I always try to educate myself on what the holiday is all about so I can appreciate getting it off…which I’m pretty sure is why they give it off to us in the first place. Last year, because I worked for the state, I got St. Patrick’s Day off. Huh? I was confused. Until I realized that it was really Evacuation Day we were getting off. I felt like I had to at least know what Evacuation Day was, or I would feel bad getting it off, so I looked it up. It was the day the British left Boston during the Revolutionary War.

For some reason, I’m just not that passionate about St. Patrick’s Day, at all. I hate holidays that are excuses to get wasted. Not to mention, I look horrible in green and have to go more of a teal route. Friday afternoon on the T, I had to ride from Kenmore to Park St. with the 2 drunkest 20-somethings who made me ashamed for my entire generation. They were yelling “Happy St. Patty’s Day!!” to everyone. Nice maybe, but not so nice when they’re falling over, yelling swears, and talking about getting high in front of cute little elderly tourists who looked scared to death. They taunted a young man who was listening to his iPod yelling to everyone that he was listening to Mariah Carey. And then when they asked him what he was listening to and he said NPR (I totally cringed for him), they said “what the eff is NPR?!” The one guy in the giant green sequin hat kept yelling “THIS IS MY HOLIDAY DAMN IT!” I wonder if he even knows what St. Patrick’s Day is…I’m guessing no. Come on, he doesn’t even know what NPR is.

I went out Saturday evening and drank Guinness (def. no green beer for me) and stayed out all night. And it was fun. And I don’t know exactly what the meaning of St. Patrick’s Day is. I really just went out because it was Saturday night and I had nothing else to do. I don’t really feel bad that I don’t know what the celebration was all about because I wasn’t really celebrating anything except Saturday night. And I wasn’t yelling THIS IS MY HOLIDAY DAMN IT!! because I am well aware that it isn’t. And I wore teal.

beer and nachos. life is good.

Sara and I went to Sunset Bar and Tap in Allston for the first time tonight, though we’ve been talking about it for ages. And I have to say we were impressed! We were on our spring break trip, since we no longer have fun “spring breaks,” so we figured Sunset would be an appropriate place. First of all, they have 112 beers on tap and almost 400 more available by the bottle (I looked it up), and I only tried one. So, now it is my goal to head back and try every single beer the place has. Not really, but I think that could be interesting and a lot of fun. I think that would have to make me some sort of beer expert…and an alcoholic. They also have mead, which basically just reminds me of Shakespeare because I’m pretty sure he drank a lot of it. Unfortunately I didn’t try it for fear I would end up in some 17th century tavern in England. Oh well. Anyway, the drink menu was about 12 pages long and slightly overwhelming for someone with my level of decisiveness. Next time I go, I think I will be asking for some recommendations.

Nachos were amazing. It may also be my goal to sample every nacho dish at every nacho-serving restaurant in Boston and surrounding areas. I have sweet goals, huh? The service was a bit sub-par, and our table was basically in the middle of the bar, not to mention our food barely even fit on the table. Which could either mean our table was too small or that Sara and I are huge pigs. Take your pick.

Anyway, I’m sure we will be going back lots more. I hope it’s a good place to hang on a Friday or Saturday night because I can definitely see myself ordering nachos and lots of beer and basically sitting myself down for the entire night. And if it sucks, it’s only a 2 second walk down the street to White Horse, which serves excellent mozzarella sticks. Yes, it’s all about the food. But when you serve over 500 different types of beer, you’re pretty okay in my book.

where’s the beach?

It’s sad that spring break means nothing to me anymore. Sure, it was great I didn’t have to go to two classes last week, but I still had to work, and I still didn’t lay on any beaches drinking Coronas. I miss the days when spring break meant you got to get away from it all, even if it was just sitting at home doing nothing. Being an adult isn’t fun yet. Hopefully it will be eventually when I’m making enough money to take a spring break any time I want to jet off to some exotic location where I can get tan and forget all my worries. But for now, I’m still waking up on Monday morning saying “oh *%$, I have to do my homework.”

“A vacation is having nothing to do and all day to do it in.” -Robert Orben

men are from mars. women are from venus. computers are from hades.

I do not get along with computers. New, old, doesn’t matter. They dislike me and I dislike them. I don’t do bad stuff with them like surf for porn or shop for illegal drugs. Basically I do work, IM, myspace, and shop on victoriassecret.com. Is that so bad? So then why do I get punished? My parents bought me a brand new laptop for my college graduation (May 2005) and within about one year, the thing was a mess. So rather than pay $400 to fix the freaking thing that the AC cord connects to (I do not know all that jargon, sorry!), my dad lovingly shelled out a hell of a lot of money to buy me a new top-of-the-line laptop. YAY! yeah, that was on November 25; 2.5 months later the battery won’t charge, the computer is so hot I get second-degree burns when I touch it, and it makes a loud grinding noise that sounds like a helicopter taking off, until it just gives up all together and shuts off. Sweet.

So after driving around the state of MA and part of NH, I finally got the service I needed, in the form of a DURABOOK laptop. Don’t ask. You could literally drop the thing off the Empire State Building and it wouldn’t feel a thing. The little sticker on it actually says it’s spill resistant, which is tempting me to spill a glass of orange juice or something on it…just to see. Anyway, this Durabook is probably a good thing for me considering my touch alone seems to destroy computers. I have a feeling the kind folks at Circuit City will want to murder me if I don’t return their Durabook in one piece.

God only knows how long I will be in posession of this Durabook laptop, but thank God it only took me 3 hours to figure out how to unblock the firewall so I could gain access to gmail. I feel as though I must thank the generous employees of the Circuit City in Salem for loaning it to me. If it wasn’t for them, I would probably never step foot into a CC again. The asshole computer techs in the Somerville store looked at me like I was crazy when I said a computer should not malfunction after 3 months. They shrugged their shoulders when I said I couldn’t go 6-8 weeks without a computer, nor should i have to after spending so much on a new one. Grrrr. Anyway if you are thinking about purchasing a Durabook laptop and need a recommendation, give me a couple of weeks and I’ll let you know if I’ve killed the thing or not.

Moral of the story: Don’t let me near your computer or I WILL destroy it.

“Foolproof systems don’t take into account the ingenuity of fools.” -Gene Brown.