Part I: Fights and Flashing Lights
It all started earlier this year back in April. It all wrapped up this month, December.
Treaty of Paris was slated to play a show downtown at Columbia, and “all of us” who were planning on attending decided to meet at Sara’s house since she lives all of two blocks from the place where the concert was to be held.
Here’s the backstory to set the context. It was April 26th. I had planned on meeting everyone at Sara’s for a little pre-game drinking and a quick walk to the college.
The guy I was seeing at the time decided that that day, which should have been all fun and dancing, was the day he would slip into his regular episodes of mental madness and take it all out on me. He wanted me to drive the 20 minutes away from Chicago to his home in Oak Park so we could drive downtown to Sara’s together around six to get to Columbia in time for TOP’s set.
I wasn’t ready in time so I suggested he pick me up at my house, which was on the way–and made more sense. He didn’t want to and bitched and screamed and cried and finally I adopted the “fuck you” attitude, turned my ringer on silent and drove to Sara’s by myself. He momentarily came back to his senses and drove downtown when I didn’t answer my phone after 15 attempts on his part.
As I parked my car and walked to the Caribou to get change for the meter, I heard a horn honk and a man’s voice holler, “I am going to beat your ass!” He was in his car at the intersection with the window rolled down, smiling as he said that. Sociopath? Yeah, inappropriate.
A cute couple standing nearby gasped and looked at me. I assured them that I knew the idiot and he would do no such thing. He parked and we joined my friends. He was being a whiny baby, wanting me to be nice and cuddly with him but I couldn’t stand his ass at the moment.
I dealt with it the best I could, taking copious shots of liquor, and made it a point to have fun with Sara and Angelique and Greg and Brandi and the other lovely, sane people who were there.
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Thanksgiving: A Memorable Feast. That’s the theme for this year.
Turkey Day (or Tofurkey Day, depending on your eating persuasion) is right around the corner! Every year I enjoy cooking and baking for the holidays, with the exception of last year, when I was in lovely Rochechouart, France. Nancy’s parents are both gourmet chefs and they took some serious care of us while we visited them for 15 days over the Thanksgiving 2007 holiday. They invited 11 of their wonderful friends to their home and cooked up a memorable feast for all. I helped with the prep, naturally, but Les and Connie did most of the work. All the detail that even went into the place settings, presentation, and fun cracker gifts (hence the paper crowns!) was fantastic.
Well this year, Thanksgiving is at my boyfriend Shane’s house. I often cook with his sister and mum (and he, occasionally), and T-Day will be no different. This past weekend, we all were discussing the recipes in store when Shane said, “Are we gonna have any chocolate?” He’s a chocolate man. I’m partial to vanilla (hmm, makes sense, ey? No wonder we like each other). His main concerns this year are that we have something chocolatey and “all the mushrooms in the world,” but that’s a whole ‘nother story.
Anyhow, I’m sure we’ll be working in the kitchen all day Thursday, so I prepared a deluxe dessert (sure to please my man’s palate) ahead of time to bring with me and serve after the memorable feast. I’m no Rachael Ray, but you can call me Charlotte Shay over the next couple days if you wish.
You, too can make this delectable chocolate delight in under an hour, and I’m sharing this fairly simple recipe for…
Chocolate Hazelnut Terrine with Raspberry Sauce
This little piece of chocolatey heaven (and no, I don’t mean myself) has two rich layers of chocolate and is served in a pool of raspberry sauce.
For this, you will need the following:
Dark chocolate layer:
* 2 cups (12-oz. pkg.) Semi-Sweet Chocolate Morsels (I chose
Ghirardelli because their quality is obviously superior to Nestle)
* 1/3 cup butter
* 1/4 cup hazelnut liqueur (you can also use
Kahlua, Frangelico, or any similar substitute)
* 1 1/2 cups heavy whipping cream
Milk chocolate layer:
* 1 3/4 cups (11.5-oz. pkg.) Milk Chocolate Morsels
* 1/3 cup butter
Raspberry sauce:
* 1 pkg. (10 oz.) frozen raspberries in syrup, thawed and puréed
* 1/2 cup water
* 1 tablespoon cornstarch
* 1 teaspoon granulated sugar
Directions:
Line 9 x 5-inch loaf pan with plastic wrap or foil.
FOR DARK CHOCOLATE LAYER:
Microwave semi-sweet morsels and 1/3 cup butter in medium, uncovered, microwave-safe bowl on HIGH (100%) power for 1 minute; STIR.
Morsels may retain some of their original shape. 
If necessary, microwave at additional 10- to 15-second intervals, stirring just until morsels are melted. Stir in liqueur; cool to room temperature.
Note: For this next step, be sure to use whipping cream,
as opposed to whipped cream,
which should be reserved for licking off of your lover’s body. 
Back to the cooking. Whip cream in small mixer bowl. It’ll get nice and thick.
Fold 2 cups whipped cream into chocolate mixture, and spoon it into the prepared loaf pan.
Refrigerate the remaining whipped whipping cream. Again, save the actual whipped cream licking for your lover later…Don’t be tempted to lick the whipped whipping cream like I was; it tastes like nothing.
FOR MILK CHOCOLATE LAYER:Repeat the process above, except with the milk chocolate morsels.
Nuke the chocolate/butter mix, stir remaining whipped cream into chocolate mixture and blend.
Wait for the mixture to cool to room temperature, and spread this over the dark chocolate layer.
Cover; refrigerate for at least 2 hours or until firm.
Easy enough so far, right? It gets easier!
FOR RASPBERRY SAUCE:
Your raspberries will come in a frozen package that looks like this.
After they thaw, puree them (you can save a couple berries to use as garnish later if you wish), and strain the seeds if you so desire.
Cook raspberry puree, water,
cornstarch and sugar over medium heat,
stirring constantly,
until mixture comes to a boil; boil for 1 minute.
Cover; refrigerate.
TO SERVE:
Invert terrine onto serving platter; remove plastic or foil wrap. Cut into 1/2-inch-thick slices; serve in pool of Raspberry Sauce.
Voila!
Happy Thanksgiving! What are YOU making for the holiday?
Oh. My. God.
My best friend is engaged.
I mean, we always knew it would happen. They’ve been together for six years, have lived together for most of them; they’re domestic partners as it is.
But something about the words, “I’m engaged!” evoke such ridiculous emotion when it’s actually happening. Like whoa.
Waiting for my bus on a cold November afternoon, I returned Allie’s phone call from half an hour ago. At the first attempt to speak, someone lost signal and the call was dropped, but I had heard her say amid giggles, “Charlotte…I have to tell you something.” And I knew. But then I heard, “Hello?…Char..?”
I called her back, she said those magic two words, and I think I squealed at the frequency of a dog whistle for about nine minutes straight and said “Oh, my God” at least 48 times. In the middle of a crowded bus stop, nonetheless.
I love Allison Theresa Brewster, probably more than anyone but Tommy Constantino.
*Flashback* June 2004. I walked into Sam Ash Music for my first day of work, probably with my studded belt, home-dyed pink bangs and peekaboo highlights, and button-encrusted messenger bag. I saw this gleaming, radiant, overly tan, too pretty blonde girl sitting at the front desk, and she greeted me with the biggest smile. “Yay!” She probably said. (Honestly, the first few months I worked there, I was greeted with applause and cheering whenever I walked in the door. I loved that place.)
As we chatted and she showed me the ropes of the job of security girl (which is essentially to sit at the door, look hot, and flirt with cute musicians all day while pretending to document the serial numbers of their gear), she noticed the pins on my bag. I told her I go to shows, and she was like, “Oh, my boyfriend’s in a band!” When she told me it was The Dog and Everything, I told her I’d heard them and some of my friends liked them. “Oh, yay!” Allie exclaimed. “We can totally go to shows together!”
I smiled, but in my head I was thinking, “Uh. Why in the world would I ever hang out with this ditzy Barbie-looking girl?” My friends wore Chuck Taylors and thrift store tees, not American Eagle and Express.
Was I ever in for something…the best relationship of my life.
It didn’t take long before we were bonded. Like, a day. On my days off, I would sometimes come in to visit for a minute and ended up clocking in to work for three hours. Not only because I loved my new job at the cool music store (and it WAS bad ass back in the day), but because Allie and I had ridiculous amounts of fun.
We all did.
I can’t even tell you what’s going on in these photos.
Roaring with laughter..
Let’s do cartwheels!
Brian Albertz.
El Dave-o.
The boys!
Mmm…lubey…
Mmm…Blow-up doll.
Mmm…Nut Sauce. Gotta love the green nail polish.
I’d always figured I was a cute enough girl, but after Allie came into my life, my ego exploded in ways I’d never imagined. We started taking pictures EVERY day after work.
This is probably one of the first photos we took together…yes, back in the disposable camera days.
I have at least four photo albums full of prints that look…just like that.
Then when I got a digital camera, it was all over.
If you’ve ever scrolled through the thousands of photos on my computer and wondered why there’s so many pictures of myself, you can blame it on Allie. She taught me everything I knew.
I also learned how to be a vixen and work my 18-year-old girl prowess on the poor guys we worked with, and the ones that patronized our store. There was always some guy from some department hanging out up front with us.
Like this. Oh, Trent. He’s a whole ‘nother chapter.
Naturally, I had a different crush every damn day, and Allie was my greatest enabler: “Char, I mentioned your name to him and he turned bright red and ran away from me.” Chris Insidioso was integral in that as well: “I know someone in that department who liiiiikes you,” he’d say. “Do you loooove him?” The three of us were the gossip/drama queens of the customer service desk–no, of the entire store.
Immortalized forever in magazine form:
BFFs at Allie’s bowling birthday
Want to place bets on how much gear was stolen from the store while Al and I were posing for pictures, backs turned from the door, being “security?”
Importantly, Allie showed me (in theory, of course) how to use my teenage feminine wiles to manipulate boys and get what I wanted, as all single girls that age do. I mastered the art of coyness. In fact, one relationship started because I got some dude to go out to Walgreen’s on his break and buy me contact solution…and all my favorite candy, snacks, and Arizona teas. What a great foundation!
But seriously, every other day it was: “Do I like this Dan or that Dan today?” “Jon and I went out for lunch today…” “Ooh, Mike’s kinda cute.” “I could maybe date Joe if he weren’t so young…” “Why is Sean asking me out in the keyboard room?” Craziness.
With all the male attention and my self-confidence on the rise (I obviously know now you can’t base your self-worth on such things), Allie introduced me to the world of modeling. “Me? But…I can’t, I’m not hot like you.”
She brought it out.
We were such clams.
This is from our first joint photo shoot.
Most of our photos turned out fantastic, especially considering it was my first modeling shoot ever.
See a photographer’s directive trend, maybe?
That photoshoot was a whole ‘nother story in itself as well. Famed photographer Niva Bringas shot us at Iguana Studios in Chicago. He was a great photog, but was morbidly obese. And he grossed us out. In time, he’d have Allie and I meet him for lunch to pick up the discs with our retouched photos. Seeing chips crumble over his jiggling belly when he laughed…I’ll say no more.
Let me tell you–this photo is really airbrushed and this was when he was younger.
Anyhow, at my first shoot, both of us had done a couple of looks when he and the owner of the studio began to insist that we glam it up, put on ridiculous makeup, be extravagant. We kept coming out with additional layers of crap on our face and they’d make us add more. Allie finally drew the line. I, on the other hand, slathered on glitter up to my eyebrows, put on pink feather earrings, my studded belt, my pink aviator sunglasses, and came out of the dressing room looking like this.
There are reasons why photos like THIS never surfaced on the Internet (until now). Good LORD.
I think it was the second time we shot at Iguana, the studio owner (whose name I cannot remember) turned even more creepy; after making us pile on the makeup he tried really, really hard to get us to model in swimsuits. “Oh, but we didn’t bring any with us,” we told him. He instisted it was all right, and began pulling hideous 80s/90s style bikinis off the racks. Um, no. He eventually got frustrated with us, it escalated into an argument: “What about lingerie? Lacy underwear? BOY shorts?!? SOMETHING?!” …and we left.
We had done a super classy ebony & ivory shoot; her in a black rhinestone dress and me in a white one. Due to the circumstances under which we left the studio, things were awkward. Niva kept saying he’d send our photos…and then he died three years later (I’m sure due to complications from his weight).
Wap wah.
Workplace antics, modeling fiascos, and narcissistic self-portraits are only the tip of the iceberg…stay tuned for “I don’t know states,” making college professors puke, and literally rolling around wasted on the floor in the women’s restroom….at the Peninsula Hotel in downtown Chicago. Yes, the place that people like Brad Pitt or Will Smith stay when they’re in town.
It just gets better…
I already miss two nights of work each week for my evening classes (that is, when events are scheduled on those days, which they often are). This week, two professors in different classes are requiring me to attend other extracurricular activities. One is an Etiquette Dinner on Thursday, for which I’d pay $15 to have some old biddy tell me how to sip my soup. The other is this weekend’s production of Into the Woods, a musical which incorporates several classic fairy tale stories. Five bucks for students.
First off, I work at fine dining restaurants. I know which utensils to use when and I don’t slurp (unless it’s the very last of my cocktail…I still use a straw). Second, my high school performed Into the Woods. It’s a classic play, but I’m not incredibly fond of musicals nor do I want to sit through it again, especially when I could be making money. Besides, the entire play synopsis is on the Internets, and I bet I could even find footage of it on youtube.
Would you call off FOUR work days in a week? Who can afford that? To top it off, the circus is coming to town so after this week, I’m off for 15 days.There are students with JOBS and LIVES and children to support…
Or would you tell said professors to suck it and explain your situation? In that case, they could always come back with, “Well you knew at the start of the semester! You should have requested it off.” My last option, which I am seriously considering, is to just get a synopsis of these events from a classmate/cohort and pretend I went (since the Profs won’t be there). At the end of the day, my professor’s aren’t paying my rent, are they? No.
This is so dumb. What would you do?
