my date with john krasinski (or: the dreams i have after i drink wine)

i was in maine -- which, not-so-coincidentally, is where i'm headed tomorrow for a week -- putzing around what appeared to be a farmer's market. my hair was looking exceptionally good in spite of the humidity and my face looked thinner than usual (whee!) i stopped to inspect some cucumbers (that is not foreshadowing -- it's not that kind of dream) and lo and behold - john krasinski, weighing lemons. he looked very new england - white polo, khaki shorts, flip flops. we struck up a conversation about produce -- he seemed to favor the summer squash -- and went to part ways when he asked about my plans for later that day. i told him that i was staying in maine for a week with my family, and would he like to come out for dinner with us that evening. it just so happened that we met on my birthday (this is not a stretch; vacation week incorporates my birthday.) so. john krasinski, who found time to go back to wherever he was staying and change his clothes, came to birthday dinner with my family. now, it's uncertain as to whether or not we knew he was famous as there was no mention of 'the office' during dinner conversation. although, i did comment on how much i liked the sneakers he wore when he and rainn wilson were on 'ellen'. so, scratch that. he was obviously famous. but apparently we're too evolved/busy eating to make mention of that. dinner ended. the family evaporated, as they are prone to do in the subconscious, and john krasinski and i went for a walk on the beach (which was looking a bit more south florida than northern maine. who cares.) i think we talked about some seemingly insignificant things (this part is kind of a blur.) but he did ask if he could see me again before i left. ("i'm sorry. i'm just not interested." yeah. i'm not that dumb in my dreams.)

now, i'm assuming that i saw him again. but the cat woke me up at this point and i never returned to john krasinski-ful maine. severe sadness.

also: this does not bode well for my actual vacation, as i'm sure to be disappointed.

not your cheez.

i was putting some peanut butter on an english muffin this morning, subsequently holding my breath as i washed the knife (the smell of wet peanut butter makes me nauseous) when it struck me: what's the grossest thing i've ever eaten -- theoretically -- that tasted good at the time? i used to eat mustard sandwiches (if kendall reads this, she will gag -- i'm fairly certain this was her least favorite part of living with me) -- but i don't find them repulsive. the memories of eating spaghetti-o's and pac-man shaped pasta-in-a-can kind of make me want to cry but -- again -- it's not too weird, and they're oddly popular.

i think most disgusting thing i've ever eaten, that i actually liked, would have to be cheez whiz on a bagel.

joanne elaine adams. i blame you. you were my partner in crime for this endeavor on many, many mornings and afternoons. what were we thinking? granted, we were in the second grade and pretty much at the culinary mercy of our parents. but still. we should have known better.

pretty.

i thought about putting these as shoe of the day, but instead chose to highlight them as shoeological representation of my navy blue renaissance.

yes. i'm going through a navy blue renaissance.

dig it.

(also, you can't really tell in this photo, but the middle strap by the toe is patent leather. the shoe gods are weeping shiny, pretty tears.)

for fictional appetizers.

ob-sessed.

must order for my imaginary dinner & cocktail parties.

(thank you, cb2)

http://www.cb2.com/family.aspx?c=230&f=3972

i want...candy?

i just pulled a semi-eaten bag of sour patch kids of out my purse, left over from a recent trip to the movies to see 'live free, die harder' with jimmy. for reasons that are entirely without concern, the majority of the spk's remaining were orange and yellow -- but when i opened up the bag, safely fastened with a rubber band, i wafted toward me a familiar scent. that scent was not sour patch kids, as one might imagine. it was fruit loops. i do not know why, or how, fruit loops infiltrated my sour patch kids -- who, it can be said, form a mean and ragged army when necessary -- but had better believe i shall get to the bottom of it.

also: i'm noticing that i have a lot of random candy on my desk. in general, i don't eat a lot of candy. but as i look around i see:

• 90% depleted bag of dark chocolate m&ms. we keep those around for bi-annual hell weeks.
• sweet-tarts suckers (is it one 't' or two? the logo splits it down the middle...)
• lemon heads

i also have a grapefruit. apparently just to balance things out.

my week: the numbers version

number of ex-boyfriends from whom i've heard: 1
number of pseudo-ex-boyfriends i've heard from/seen at random: 2
number of non-dates: 2
number of movies i've seen in the theater: 2
number of 'the o.c.' reruns watched on july fourth: 3
number of cups of coffee consumed: 9
number of cups of tea consumed: 15
number of pairs of shoes purchased: 0

speaking of movies: go see 'transformers'. and the new 'die hard'. and 'knocked up'.
favorite line from all movies seen this season thus far: "please take the chairs away. i don't like them. the big one is staring at me and that short one is being very droll." hee! running a close second: "i am optimus prime."

and now the transcript from an email conversation between nate and i, based on his recommendation that i read this and this. warning: weirdness abounds.

johanna: the term 'virtual sex' is so offputting. but 'erotic geppetto' is seriously fantastic.
nate: it's way way way beyond fantastic.
j: that's totally the title of my next album.
n: Nice. Or maybe that should be the name of your bakery.
j: people will have far, far different expectations than what i'd be willing to deliver.
n: mostly grotesquely shaped baked goods?
j: dirty pastries.
n: exactly.
j: "erotic geppetto, specializing in naughty noshing for any event"
n: I hate hate hate (clicks heels three times) the word noshing.
I also think it might as well be spelled gnoshing and accompanied with nails on a chalkboard and a dead baby (every time it is spoken or typed).
j: weirdo. "erotic geppetto, specializing in kinky cuisine for any event."
n: "erotic geppetto...dirty inevitibility"
j: "erotic geppetto...x-rated edibles"
n: "erotic geppetto...pastry delights for more than growing noses."
j: dirty. "erotic geppetto...more than just a kick in the pants."
n: I don't get it.
j: "erotic geppetto...our dough isn't the only thing rising."
n: erotic geppetto...pedophiles are creepy...eat a danish
j: erotic geppetto...pastry. puppetry. perverts.
n: there's a winner.