Eat Pray Love merch

Get a whiff of this: Fresh has created three perfumes to celebrate the release of Eat Pray Love, the movie that will almost certainly match the crazy success of Elizabeth Gilbert’s memoir of the same name. I love lasagna as much as the next gal, but I don’t want to smell like a primi piatti.

But wait, there’s more on the brandwagon: Home Shopping Network has created a “shopping experience” of vaguely ethnic crap inspired by Gilbert’s travels to Italy, India, and Bali. We don’t need to order up a handcarved horse bench from HSN; that’s what Pier 1 is for. How do you say “duh” in Balinese? From pasta makers to power beads, an Eat Pray Shop collection sort of seems—call me crazy—counter-intuitive to the spirit of the book.

What’s next? A Liz Gilbert action figure who comes with a pizza pie, yoga mat, and Brazilian husband who looks vaguely like Javier Bardem? Please, Viking Penguin or whoever is selling the ancillary rights, revoke this license to schill. The world doesn’t need another papasan chair littering grad student apartments and rummage sales.

(photo: fresh.com)

Designer luggage

Status luggage is impractical, like penis-extender sportscar impractical. You might as well light wads of cash on fire. Your vintage Louis Vuitton train case and sleek Hermes carry-on are bound to get beat up and dragged around, much the way you deserve to be treated for buying such an unnecessary status symbol.

If I’m going to drop coin on a designer label, you can bet it’s going to be something I can drape close to my body and keep in my line of sight. While you may enjoy first-class treatment in the main cabin, your luggage doesn’t—it’s just targeted for pilfering by baggage handlers and then thrown into suitcase steerage with the rest of our lowly bags. Call me cuckoo crazy but I think luggage should be what you carry your money around in, not what you get carried away buying. Back away from the matching set of Gucci luggage and stick with the Samsonite. If you don’t, I have a sneaking suspicion that your luggage might not make it to your final destination.

(photo: handbags800.com)

Onion skin

I’ve been making a lot of fajitas lately, which means I’ve been slicing my fair share of onions. This also means I’ve been crying a lot.

But not for the reason you might think.

The sulphenic acids may make me tear up, sure, but it’s the slimy onion skin between the crunchy layers that makes me flip my culinary shit. If I let an onion sit for a week or two, it invariably develops a gross film, not just on the outer layer, but between every layer.

In a word, ick. I wind up pulling slippery strands out of the skillet and praying I caught them all. When I bite into my tortilla and find a rogue skin, I can’t help but retch every so slightly at this root vegetable version of a loose strand of hair. And we all know how we feel about finding one of those in our Mexican food. Since hairnets don’t exist for onions (yet), I’m going to teach onions a lesson and eat a few leeks until they get their act together and are in season at the farmer’s market.

(photo: srgc.org.uk)

Welcome fellow malcontents

This is my first post for Things I Want to Punch in the Face, a decidedly less sunny blog than my crafty Prairie Tales blog. See, things irk my sh*t on a daily basis. Alone, they are not a big deal but add to it a stressed gal with a short fuse and you get—you guessed it, Einstein!—something I want to punch in the face.

So without further ado, I present a snarky take on life's little annoyances.

Today, I'd like to smack down waiters who top off your coffee without asking. I mean, you might have just gotten it to the right temperature and blend of cream and sugar when they come along and fill up your decaf cup with regular joe while you're eyeballing the dessert menu. I'm the boss of me! I want to punch these presumptive bozos in the face.