Confessions Of A Splenda Stealer

New word of the day alert!! According to style.com,

vocabulary lesson: recessionista

“…the younger, hipper sister of the fashionista is the recessonista, —who is at the mall finding designer threads (or diffusion designer threads) at discount prices. Look for her at Target, Uniqlo, Payless, or Kohl’s, all of whom have inked deals with designers recently. That’s because recessionistas aren’t letting a little thing like falling stock prices and rising gas bills get in the way of their wardrobe. And with the Fourth of July on the horizon, think of it as doing your patriotic duty. Says Tara Subkoff, the former Imitation of Christ designer (whose frocks occasionally hit five figures) who now does a collection for mall giant Bebe: “As Andy Warhol said, ‘What’s great about this country is that America started the tradition where the richest consumers buy essentially the same things as the poorest.’ ” As usual, the man in the white wig got there first.”

As a Splenda Stealer, I would have to say that I’ve become somewhat of a recessionista myself…even before the recession. I guess anything with an “ista” at the end makes it sound like you are savvy of a subject, rather than just cheap.

Stemming from that theory, is it safe to say that when I scope out a cheap happy hour, am I a lushista? Or, how about when I secretly look for ways to be a mooch, like when I search for free samples or raid my parent’s pantry when I’m home, can I call that being a moochista? Who the hell came up with “ista” as the suffix anyway??

Wiktionary had the answer:

-ista –one who follows a principle; an adept

example: Marxista

Does anyone else find it ironic that the one example they give has communist connotations?

Friday was a great night. After Happy Father’s Day cocktails at Four Seasons, then dinner at Dos Caminos, my parents left to grab a train and my sis and I went to make our way up to the UES to meet Ria and her friend for drinks. They were still at dinner so the twin and I got a drink at P.J. Clarke’s then decided to waste more time in Dylan’s Candy Bar. With a little buzz going, we craved for something sweet, though I never need a buzz for something sweet. They were closing in 15 minutes, but we decided to be those obnoxious, lingering customers that won’t leave until you ask them to. Though I was disappointed that I couldn’t see the store in all it’s sugar-coated glory because of renovations, it was still serious eye-candy as the stairs and walls were covered in candy collages and neon lights.

As soon as we climbed our way up the flight of steps, we started to scan for treats, though I must admit, between the two of us, we are what we call, “Dessert Challenged.” I am lactose intolerant and can’t eat ice cream and other creamy treats, the twin is a diabetic and can’t have too much sugar. You are probably asking why we even bothered to step inside the store, but I ask, why the hell not? Maybe we are just sadists.

I immediately flag down a salesperson and ask where the sugar-free candy is. She is speechless for about 30 seconds, looking around the space with wide eyes. “Wow, honestly, we don’t usually get that request,” she said. She had to go ask a manager. They lead us to a teeny, tiny back corner and tell us to enjoy the treats. We look at each other and decide, we are going to take that as an open invitation to chow down. How can you bust the sugar challenged?? I quickly grab a sugar-free gummy worm and drop it into my mouth. Twin takes about five orange gummy things and loads two in her mouth. We start to act like five year olds, popping other gummies in our pockets and mouths before another salesgirl comes over to us asking if we need any help. Busted! Luckily, we were the only two sad sugar-free customers in the store, so they totally took pity on us and just left us alone.

Hmm. What would our names be if we were characters in Willy Wonka? Annie Aspartame and Sally Soy?

Here is what the interior looks like of the candy store:

Here was our color-blind corner:

Where’s the love, Dylan??

Upon getting to work today, I settled in, blotted myself with a paper towel, put my hair up and sat in silence for a few minutes to cool off and collect my thoughts. Five minutes later, I’m digging into my bag looking for spare change to buy some much needed coffee. To my chagrin, I find two quarters, and lots and lots of pennies. While there were a lot of Lincolns, I didn’t really want to either count nor hand the cashier at Cafe Metro a fistful of pennies.

It became multiple choice hour. I could a) got to the ATM and take out $$, b) suck it up until tomorrow and just overdose on coffee during FREE ICED COFFEE WEDNESDAYS at Starbucks, (I didn’t tell you?? I got another free coffee card!) or c) hmmm figure somethin’ out…

I chose b)–to stick it out until tomorrow because as soon as I get $$ in my hand, it’s gone. After just paying off two credit card bills and rent, I just didn’t feel like going to the ATM. Nope, nope. I was doing pretty well until about 2pm when I start to get a headache. DAMN YOU CAFFEINE ADDICTION!! I began to get panicky. I left my Advil in my other purse which was too big to carry in this heat, so what to do??

Trying to distract myself, I go on my favorite blog, Midtownlunch.com. La–dee–dah…Milant on 39th and 3rd serving gazpacho…chicken and BBQ postings…and then suddenly–there it was-

FREE (ICED) COFFEE ALERT: The New Joe

A new Joe the Art of Coffee was opening in the Gray Bar Passage of Grand Central–thee blocks from me. To celebrate their much awaited opening, from 4pm-6pm today was a “dress-rehearsal,” read: FREE GOODIES.

My eyes enlarge and I nod my head yes. It has been decided. The coffee gods like me apparently. I will deal with my headache until 4pm when I will skip into my elevator and ride down to coffee paradise.

My walk quickens as I get closer. I see the Graybar entrance and my heart skips. I get inside and scan for the place. About 50 feet ahead of me, a short line has formed of people pacing and hopping from one foot to the next. In my experience, this is such the site of a free food line. Antsy, antsy people looking around at what people in front of them are getting, trying to figure out how much free stuff they can score. I had a man behind me ask me about 50 times what we could get. Is this the line for free coffee? Is it free tea? Free chai? Free muffins? Dude, just wait and see, I told him. I was alarmingly calm while others who weren’t sure about the free deal but curious about the line kept sticking their faces against the glass to try and figure out what was going on. I do not have a good history for waiting in food lines, but my addiction was my cause.

I get up to the counter to learn that anything on the coffee menu and any snack was free. I order a LARGE iced latte and, what the hell, get a blueberry scone. I hold my scone in a folded white paper back and wait patiently for my coffee. Some guy of course grabs the first iced latte he sees and takes a gulp, but then he feels dumb when the next drink actually has his name on it and realizes he stole mine. He apologizes and then smiles; I let it go because he was sort of eye-candy. Giggle.

Within ten minutes, I go from bitter and achey to happy with a buzz from caffeine and free food goodness. I get back to my desk and chow down. The iced latte was amazing–really really good. The scone was disappointingly dense and lacked much flavor, so I picked the blueberries out of it. Someone needs to rehearse a bit more on the scones. Here’s me a little too excited:

All in all, it was a good day. I said it once and I’ll say it again, but thank you Midtownlunch.com!!!

PS: I also scored lots of Splenda!!!

Yesterday was the first day that I ever bought tomatoes. Ever. Feeling good at the fact that I walked all the way to the A&P in 95 degree weather, with a market tote so I wouldn’t need to waste a plastic bag, I hit the produce section and see a bunch of basil. Hmm….yummm…I get the craving for basil, mozzarella, and of course tomato. I was actually excited because I already had the olive oil and balsamic vinaigrette for a delicious, gourmet snack that I could treat myself too after peeling off my sundress.

I get home, unpack my groceries, and check my email and a few sites before I head back to the kitchen. Then, I see this: Tomatoes Tainted With Salmonella.

I don’t know whether to be pissed that I have to throw out the tomatoes I just bought, thankful to God that I read this right before consuming such tainted produce, or dumbfounded that the only time I have ever bought tomatoes, something like this happens.

Sometimes I think we should all wear hard hats when we walk outside.