And February keeps rollin' on. (aka speaking of things I love...)

This is my friend Angela...

Today is her birthday, and so there is no better time to say that I love her. Wholeheartedly, I do. She came into my life as a temporary roommate and quickly nestled her way into the folds of my heart. Girls' Nights. American Idol parties. An open ear--always. And a tremendous talent.

Walt Whitman said, "I no doubt deserved my enemies, but I don't believe I deserved my friends."

I don't know what I did to deserve Angela, but I sure am humbled to call her my friend.

Sunday night is no longer girl's night.

We had so much fun with Brian last week, we just had to have him back.

Angela made pasta and chocolate cake (with apple sauce instead of oil) and I just about ate myself into oblivion. was that good. And then we watched American Idol, a show I've never seen. And so let me say this...I am a convert. Body and soul. That shit is funny. Okay? Seriously, I can't stop laughing. Two girls performed a rap that involved the line, "why to trying to stealing my cookie from me?" And I thought, yes girls, yes.

So the lovely Sheilia of Hawaii commented (and I quote) "I sometimes fantasize about being single again through your blog..." and so I sat back, sighed, and then patted myself on the back. Yes, yes, I'm such a good--such a model single gal. And then I flashed back on Christmas  break and my mom's loudly-voiced concern that I don't date enough. And let's be honest, part of being single (one of the best parts) is dating. And I just don't do it. Ever (besides the storied blind-date). 

So I pose the following question: Am I really, truly a single gal AND am I really, truly doing single gals justice if I don't shop around?

Let's look at the evidence:

1. Angela and I stayed in Saturday night watched Pride and Prejudice (love, love, love me the Mr. Darcy in the updated version) followed by Sense and Sensibility

2. I then  attempted to make oatmeal cookies using only splenda, real oats,organic puree pumpkin paste, and coffee-mate. I got sick about five minutes after my first bite (yes, Angela, you tried to warn me). 

3. As for Friday night... (a)I was something of a third wheel with Vic and Rob. (b) I cringed when Erin tried to introduce me to a boy (a very cute boy). (c) And I never got up the courage to introduce myself to the other cute boy I was crushin' on.

Okay, so that's a rhetorical question...of course I'm a single gal. But I'm tired of being the single gal who doesn't date. So ladies, hide your men because I'm hittin' the town. The good news is...I've gotten a a restaurant...and it has a revolving door. A revolving door where men may enter perhaps? Oh boy, I sound a little raunchy. My point is...never too late to add an addendum to that New Year's resolution. 

A storied evening, indeed.

So MJ (the usual roommate) has been away in D.C. working his cute little behind off in the broadway-bound revival of West Side Story. Last night it had it's out of town opening at the National Theatre (where it got its start in 1957) and I was invited to come down and take it all in. 

Having never seen West Side Story in any incarnation I was completely taken in by a story that is part of our cultural conscience and music that even non-musical theatre junkies like me know only too well. I was shocked by the shot that killed Tony. And deeply moved. And I can't wait to see it again in New York. 

Afterwards I was MJ's date for the party. I held his drink when needed and took pictures like it was my job, but in truth MJ didn't leave me for a second--he was the perfect gentleman, introducing me to everyone and making sure my glass was always full. I (who does not always thrive in these types of social settings) had a fantastic time and was wooed by the charisma and kindness of every single member of the cast. 

(that's my guy on the left)

Now for the mystery portion of my evening: Hugh Dancy was there. I know it was him. I know because I saw him head backstage right after the show (and bear in mind I had no vodka in the system to color my judgement). And he was there at the party. Right up until the bitter end when they turned the lights on and kicked us out. And he chatted with everyone (not me--I avoided like the plague (okay, well, the kind of plague that you hope nudges up against you) simply because I would have lost it). But the thing is no one else seemed to know who he was. And the girls he talked to said he spoke with a heavy American accent and said he was next off to work at the Alabama Shakespeare Festival. So much these girls believed this, that I started to doubt my judgement. But I know. It was him. And ladies, he really is as cute as you think he is.  Don't know who he'll know.

And now for the plug. Need to get to D.C., Boston, Philly? or to NY from one of those places? Take Bolt Bus lines. Every seat has a power outlet and the bus offers free wi-fi. Not to mention, it's only about $20 each way. I'm on the bus now, blogging away!

want a good review of the show? go here: Baltimore Sun

"Tidbits, snidbits, and sniggles"

That's what came out when I asked my December/January roommate if she had any idea as to how I should describe our girl's night dinner. And it was at that moment that I knew I had lost the power of speech. 

Doesn't matter though. Because the cookbook I got for Christmas is changing my life. Watch out men, I'm learning to cook, and you know what they say...

Angela and I made an egg pizza. Eggs on a pizza dough crust with scallions, ground turkey, mushrooms and cheese.

And I was inspired by My Lovely Life to cap of all that protein with these bad boys...

Angela later declared them, the best cookies ever...

You know what that means...they'll be coming soon to a party near you. That is, if you invite me. Happy Sunday night, here's to a good first full week of 2009.