Sass & Bite

"If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they'll kill you" Oscar Wilde

Month: May, 2013

Capturing My Fancy

These are just a few of the things that charmed me this week. . .

FILMography : matching famous movie scene stills to their location. Simple but kind of off-beat and really cool. 


AHeirloom’s State-Shaped Cutting Boards : Custom-order bamboo wood cutting boards in the shape of your state, with a heat or star engraved over your hometown. Such a cute gift idea for mom, no?


The Coveteur covers Coco Chanel’s apartment : Enough said. Stylish like no other.



Words of Wisdom

“The only thing to do with good advice is to pass it on — it is never of any use to oneself.” –Oscar Wilde


1. The expression is “I couldn’t care less”. If you say “I could care less”, it means you do care to some degree, which is probably not what you meant to say. Or maybe it is, what do I know. But if that’s true it defeats the whole purpose, in which case you’re wasting everyone’s time.

2. Just because you know what you like doesn’t mean you should only like what you know.

3. Ghiradelli brownie mix ≥ brownies from scratch.

4. Everything worth knowing in life can be learned from a Disney movie.

5. Seize any opportunity to use face-paint.

6. Don’t text and drive. Trust me, nobody cares that much what you have to say. And trust me, nobody else has anything to say that you should care that much about.

7. Don’t eat Taco Bell. It will give you cancer.

8. Boys who aren’t nice to their mothers are not to be trusted.

9. Stop trying to bring lucite heels back. This is stripper territory, and not in a fun way. There will never be a time when this is not stripper territory.

10. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

11. The possibility that you could end the night skinny dipping should be always in the back of your mind. Think of this as you get ready.

Therapeutic Whole-Wheat Waffles


Last week I had one of those days. Maybe it was because it was the day after my birthday, or because I didn’t get enough sleep and woke up in the middle of a REM cycle, or because technology decided to fuck me even more than it usually does, right when I needed it, or perhaps because searching for a Big Girl job in the Real World is way harder and more frustrating than my “it’s-all-good” outlook had prepared me for. Probably all of the above. Every little thing was just going wrong and I just wanted to crawl back into bed, but I dutifully behaved like a responsible adult (kind of) and at least tried to do the things I needed to do — but alas, the universe did not reward this burst of maturity. Which maybe explains why I don’t do it more often. Anyway, my mood just got progressively worse.

And then I just had this really strong feeling that I needed to make waffles.


I just knew it’s what was meant to happen. Why waffles, I have no idea. I don’t question these things. The universe gave me a sign and I ran with it.

I went on a mish to retrieve my waffle iron from a friend, had an unfortunate incident with a stair in which I nearly killed myself and another friend, consulted Joy the Baker, and was soon making some therapeutic whole wheat waffles.


I didn’t even want to eat them, necessarily. I mean, I did, and it was rad, but I just needed to get my hands dirty making them. They soothed my soul. And I think my roommates’ souls as well — it was that kind of day for everyone. I mean, no one else burst into tears on the phone with their mom, as far as I know, buuuut whatever. I really wanted to eat the waffles with sliced peaches, but I didn’t have any, although I did have mango and it was fantastic.

I adapted Joy’s recipe just slightly, substituting almond milk for regular and only using 1 1/2 cups, as in the original; I also didn’t have any millet or sunflower seeds and I wasn’t willing to sacrifice the rest of my chia seeds for this endeavor, so I just omitted those extras, but if you’ve got them or something similar, throw ’em in if that’s your thing. I made them again with regular milk and more of it (as in the version below), and they came out much softer — I would recommend using more milk to thin the batter.

Whole Grain Waffles

Adapted slightly from Joy the Baker; makes 6 waffles

1 3/4 cups whole wheat flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1 large egg

1 1/2 cups lukewarm milk (or milk substitute)

5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted (Joy recommends it be cooled but mine wasn’t and it was fine)

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract (I added an extra splash)

In a medium bowl, mix together flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder. In a smaller bowl, whisk together the egg, milk, butter, and vanilla.

Add the wet ingredients to the dry all at once and stir until combined, getting the lumps out. If you’re adding other things, now would be the time to do it. Let the batter rest for 10 minutes as you preheat the waffle iron. Cook according to your waffle iron’s instructions, which in my case means they were lost long before you got your hands on it and you just have to keep an eye on it.

Serve with sliced fruit, peanut butter, jelly, honey, powdered sugar, syrup, chocolate, whipped cream — whatever your little heart tells you. Buen provecho!

Things I Can’t: Sugary Cereal Calling Itself a Damn Good Source of Nutrition


My mother is getting soft-hearted. Or possibly developing Alzheimer’s. Since I went off to college she has taken to buying kid’s cereal for my brothers: Fruit Loops, Cocoa Puffs, Lucky Charms, and even Cookie Crisp, the most dubious claim to the title of breakfast cereal, are now a constant presence at my parents’ house. Back in my day, she refused to buy sugary cereal. It was not a thing. Occasionally — like, two or three times a year occasionally — she would buy Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Trix or something, but never for breakfast, only for snack. Sometimes for Saturday mornings to accompany our cartoons on the WB, like true 90’s kids. When I was older she made the concession of buying Frosted Flakes fairly often– and cutting them with regular corn flakes. At the time I resented it: I wanted to join my peers in their Yellow-1-and-high-fructose-corn-syrup-induced sugar haze. I too wanted to drain pink-tinged, aspartame-flavored milk from the bowl before setting out on my day. But now, in the wisdom of old age and the clarity of stable blood sugar levels, I realize she was right.

I didn’t really have a reaction when I noticed she was buying them, other than to think, “how the times have changed”. And then. Then I see a box of Cocoa Puffs, proudly proclaiming itself “Wonderbowl. Cocoa Puffs has nutrition you can believe in. A good source of calcium, iron and vitamin D”, and also calling itself a “whole grain first”.


. . . This is a joke, right? I mean, really, we’re gonna play this game? They’ve always pulled the “part of a balanced breakfast” card in their ads, the operative word being “part”. But I guess we’re just skipping that now? Just straight to claiming it has freestanding nutritional merit and totally counts as a balanced meal on its own, all 1 gram of protein to 10 grams of sugar of it. And where is all this iron and calcium and vitamins coming from, Cocoa Puffs? Are they in the corn syrup, which is listed as the third (and therefore third most plentiful) ingredient? Perhaps in the BHT? Or the “natural and artificial flavors”? No wait, it’s probs in the “color added”. Color is chock full of Vitamin A. Science knows this to be true.

This is like when I congratulate myself on being calorically efficient for not using chaser with my six shots of Jack Daniels. It sounds nice; if you’re drunk enough, it even sounds reasonable. Which maybe some people are. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not averse to the occasional bowl of fun cereal — I had a few bites the other day and it was a fond trip down Nostalgia Lane. Kids like sugar, people like sugar, it’s not the worst thing in the world. But let’s call it what it is. I didn’t finish that bowl of Cocoa Puffs and bullshit myself into thinking it took care of a serving of grains or protein for the day. Wait, cocoa comes from a bean, no? Let’s count them as a vegetable too. Are there actually people out there dumb enough to sincerely believe this? Don’t answer that — I know the answer to that, and it vexes me. The point is, you cannot look me in the eye and call yourself a whole grain when the front of the box says, in large print right above the logo, “naturally and artificially flavored frosted corn puffs”.

Only my Jack can pull that kind of shit, because whiskey comes from wheat, and also it’s a liquid and therefore hydrating. Again, science.

Things I Once Firmly Held to be True


Children are ridiculous. Hysterical, but ridiculous. Their little minds are so odd and literal and all over the place and they just come up with the most random shit and you have no idea where it came from. And neither do they. Or even if they do, it came from a thought process you couldn’t possibly begin to follow. I’ve being seeing a lot of entertaining things from the mouth of babes — from apology letters they’re clearly not convinced they need to be writing, to those AT&T commercials to Jimmy Kimmel’s Truth Fairy tests –and it got me thinking about some of the baffling things I used to think. So now, a list of things I once firmly held to be true:

1. You could ride on a Golden Retriever. In fact, this was the whole purpose of owning one, and I begged my parents to get me one. Which they did not.

2. Band-aids were magical pain relievers.

3. There was a secret passage in the side of the pool with a shark in it that came out sometimes. If you swam in the shadows it would totally eat you.

4. The $82 my mom let me keep from my first communion money was a vast fortune.

5. The LegoLand driving school ride basically qualified me to operate a vehicle.

6. Limited Too and Abercrombie were the epitome of stylish. I mean, skintight polos with random animals, phrases, and sports numbers emblazoned on them in glitter, paired with layered cotton skirts or booty shorts with the name of a sport you may or may not even participate in written on the butt? Expressive and tasteful.

7. Bright pink lipstick and blue eye shadow were a classy match made in heaven. They look best when applied liberally. 

8. Getting a blue slip (a bad-behavior note to your parents, basically) was the end of my future. I would probably be grounded for at least three months, and no high school or college would have me.

9. Having my picture taken was basically the most inconvenient, unfun, unnecessary thing my mother could ask of me. Hence the photo above. Like seriously, I’m at Disneyland. Christmas Disneyland. What about my life at that point warrants that face?

10. Looking at the sun would result in immediate blindness. In kindergarten my friend Blair told me at recess that she had just looked at the sun and her eyes hurt: I helpfully assured her she would go blind, probably within the hour, and she spent the next two hours in the nurse’s office, inconsolable and in hysterics.

Pressing Questions: The Spice Girls Musical


1. There is a Spice Girls musical. Why do I not yet have tickets?

2. Where the hell is Baden-Baden?

3. How does insurance work?

4. Who came up with the name Daddy Long Legs? It’s the creepiest name for an animal ever. Why has no one questioned this?

5. How do ducks have sex?

These. . . these are the questions. . . .

Things I Learned the Hard Way

In my 22 years of life and experience, I have learned many things. Some of them were fairly obvious — that guy in the van doesn’t really have candy or a puppy — but some of them were learned through painful trial and error.
And yet I keep doing many of them anyway.

1. The Inverse Law of Appearance: Your hair/makeup/skin/self in general will always look sensational when you have nowhere to go and no one to see. Inversely, when you’re out and about and there are people to impress, or at least not frighten, your hair will never  fall quite right.

2. Being an adult is expensive and difficult. Put it off as long as possible.

3. Chasing shots with soy sauce is never a good idea.

4. You cannot make powdered sugar by blending regular sugar in a pitcher with an immersion blender. You should not then attempt to make royal icing from this failure.

5. Playing with chili peppers and then not washing your hands and instead touching your face, eyes, and mouth will end just as badly as your nanny said it would.

6. A serving size of Ben & Jerry’s is not 8/10 of a pint. Who knew?

7. People generally don’t appreciate being corrected on their grammar. Even if the mistake they repeatedly make makes them sound ignorant and will probably embarrass them in front of someone more judgmental than me and it’s really not that hard to just say “regardless” instead of “irregardless” because it’s not a word, goddamnit.

8. {Heels + stairs} x copious amounts of tequila ÷ lack of basic coordination skills = no. Just no.

9. The mere presence of a Costco-sized box of Cheeze-Its, M&M’s, or animal crackers — Costco-sized anything, really — in my kitchen is enough to override my (already barely existent) self-control and general lack of interest in those things and result in horrifying levels of mindless over-eating.

How I Know I’m Old

My youth is behind me, guys. I’ve graduated college and traveled the world and now, at the grand old age of 22 (still 21, if we’re being technical) I have become world-weary, like those elderly people who sit on the porch on Saturdays and yell at the local kids for being hooligans destined for jail because they’re not in school. Or my great-aunt who once locked my cousins and me out of my house during a family party for being “excited”. So from my seat in my porch rocking chair, a list of ways I know I’m old:

1. Traffic bothers me. Gone are the days when I could just put on my iPod and enjoy a solo jam sesh in the face of the glorified parking lot that is the 101 – or the 405. or Sepulveda. or Ventura or Victory – at any given time of day in LA, and be fine. No, now I get increasingly aggravated and mentally – and verbally – berate people for not going fast enough, switching lanes when it clearly won’t get them anywhere faster (usually when it gets in the way of me doing the same thing), and questioning where the fuck all these people are going at 10:30 in the morning, don’t you have jobs to be at, you can’t all possibly be going to lunch or just getting in at this hour, what has the world come to?!

2. Any given weeknight: “Welp, it’s midnight, time for bed”.

3. The thought of eating frosting by the spoonful directly out of the jar, as I used to do in my  youth, is horrifying.

4. I compare prices on food. And sometimes I refuse to buy something if I know I can get it cheaper  or if I wait for it to go on sale. Total contrast to my once innate lack of practicality or attention to petty details like if that sugary cereal masquerading as granola I want is really worth $6.49 when it was $2.00 last week. In short, I have become my mother.

5. I wish I had a rollover plan for all the naps I refused as a child.

6. I am reluctant to take naps because there are other things I could be doing.

7. I constantly complain about the “kids these days” and their selfies and their Twatting or Twitting or what-have-you and their lack of respect/healthy fear of their elders. Namely, me.

But seriously, what is with the kids these days? They are so goddamn uppity.

Reasons London > Pretty Much Anywhere Else


My aunt recently took me to Moscow, St. Petersburg, and London as a graduation gift. It was glorious. And although Russia was incredibly interesting, different from most other places I’ve been, and allowed me to finally achieve my life-long ambition of getting a furry hat, London was spectacular. I’ve been a few times now and it’s always been one of my favorite cities. I even tolerate the cold for London. And I do not tolerate temperatures below 65℉. I have literally, and frequently, gotten homesick for London, a place I have never actually been in for more than a week. And don’t tell me how the charm would wear off if I actually lived there — it’s true love, and true love lasts a lifetime. While I was wandering around my beloved city I compiled an (incomplete) list of the many ways London is better than basically anywhere else.

1. There are British accents all over the place!

2. Reese’s come with three peanut butter cups in the package.

3. Everyone dresses impeccably or outrageously — whatever your opinion on it, there is a lot of style going around. And they don’t care about your opinion anyway.

4.  “Cheers” > “thanks”.

5. Their newspaper headlines are ridiculous. One example: “I threw away  £1,900 on a Rasta Banana”, accompanied by a photo of an overweight, unsmiling British woman sitting with a giant stuffed banana in a Rastafarian costume. This is headline news. They understand what’s really important.

6. Scones and clotted cream are easily accessible.

7. They’ve apparently recently discovered “ratchet” and “A’int nobody got time for that!”, both of which sound hysterical in upper-crust London accents.

8. The chocolate is infinitely better due to the lack of wax in it, every other sweet involves caramel or toffee, both of which are the best sugary ingredients ever, and salt and vinegar chips are the rule, not the exception.

9. You can easily walk a lot of places, which is great because clearly I would get so fat if I lived there.

10. There are cool landmarks and stuff everywhere. Like, you go to Windsor for the day and you’re wandering around the grounds and it’s like, inside that building, possibly fifty feet away from you, the Queen of England is pooping. If she even does that kind of thing, I don’t know.




Was I repeatedly mistaken for a Royal Guard? Maybe. I regret nothing.



And So It Begins

By popular demand (and my own belief in the amusingness and magnetism of everything I say and do), I have started a blog. Here I will share the food I make, the clothes I like, the shenanigans I get into, the shiny objects that distract me, and whatever else catches my fancy. I will also frequently provide my opinions, unsolicited or otherwise, on a lot of things.

Disclaimer: I have no idea what’s going on at least 85% of the time – the same goes for blogging, especially with my infamous technological handicap, so bear with me. I invite you to laugh with me in a few months at how ridiculous and struggle-y these early posts are.


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