Perfect Memory
December 18th, 2006
While I was at the gym tonight, I happened to catch a glimpse of some movie or another starring Mo’Nique and a bunch of other people I recognized, but didn’t know their names. I’m not sure what the movie was, but I do know it wasn’t Phat Girlz and it certainly wasn’t Soul Plane (Never let it be said that Mo’Nique doesn’t do quality films). The identity of the movie remains a mystery, and it really doesn’t matter, because what struck me was the oddity of the scene that involved a co-star (that was not, mercifully, Mo’Nique) and a hot dude in some sort of sexual situation that involved corn on the cob – I mean eating corn on the cob, that is, and thank God I cleared that up, because I can think of a few naughty things to do with corn on the cob, and none of them I really want to do, or even talk about here. Actually, I don’t really want to think about corn on the cob and sex in any context except to say that I don’t really find eating corn on the cob even the slightest bit sexy, what with the corn casing kernel things getting jammed in your teeth and giant chunks of corn innards smearing all over everything, and we haven’t even covered the necessary butter and salt, which would make things vomitously messy. The whole thing was just so weird.
Honestly, what the hell am I saying? The point is, while I’ll never tell you what actually goes on in our bedroom, nor would you ever be interested, I would hope, I will assure you that there is not now, nor will there ever will be any eating of corn on the cob, and neither is there any butter or salt. No food, really, except when we eat pizza or Chinese food in front of the television.
Nor is there any dancing or mustard-eating. What? That’s not a beautifully smooth segue, you say? I’m trying to make it through your glorious questions, and Jamie asked a few non-sequiturs, including what my favorite condiment is, and what we danced to at our wedding. For starters, I have a passion for mustard. Mayonnaise certainly has its role in our society, not the least of which is to bind things like chicken salad and maybe a nice can of tuna. But it’s really foul, don’t you think? I mean, if you pull out a spoonful, it just kind of sits there, quivering like a bad bit of Jello, only the creamy kind that kind of resembles not-so-nice things that I don’t want to think about. Mayonnaise is gross. Ketchup is the poor man’s tomato sauce, and its bland sugary tomato-ness only works for me on burgers and French fries, and other than that, I have no use for ketchup, and that definitely includes hot dogs, which should be void of all things tomato, including tomatoes, which is why I find Chicago hot dogs so absolutely disgusting. Tomatoes on a hot dog? Seriously?
And then there is mustard, the most gloriously versatile condiment of all. It’s got flavor, for crying out loud! Pizazz! It can be spicy! Sweet! Smooth! Grainy! God, there is no end to the glory that is mustard, and I can think of very few savory foods that aren’t improved with a dash of mustard of some kind – salads, veggies, sandwiches, meats! Mustard makes the world go round. Incidentally, Ad and I differ greatly on our mustard choices – he is strictly a yellow kind of guy, you know, that neon baby poop mustard that tastes like nothing but vinegar and acrid powder? No, thank you. Give me cranberry mustard, spicy mustard, spicy and sweet mustard, Dijon mustard! Mustard, incidentally, doesn’t go well with corn on the cob. An exception to the rule! And it seems, by the way, that corn on the cob, is losing out at every turn. Will it ever regain its original sparkle? I think not.
Anyway, Jamie also asked what song we danced to at our wedding for our first dance. The truth is, I have no idea. I’ve mentioned it before, but I really hated everything about planning my wedding, and since I don’t dance, I put little to no thought into our wedding music or really, our entire wedding. Because towards the end (and music so came at the end, contrary to all the advice I received), we were becoming a little more budget-conscious, and also because we had an afternoon wedding, we went with a DJ vs. a band. I believe his name was DJ Bob Katzen, which never fails to crack me up, as he was this short little mild-mannered Jewish dude with a penchant for playing whatever anyone told him to, which pleased me greatly, as I was just petrified of having some loud entertainer-type whooping up our wedding.
I first met him in a Starbucks in Back Bay and I believe I was quite specific about the type of people we are (lame and self-conscious, non-dancing and weird) and that I did not, under any circumstances want anything wild and crazy like gangsta rap or thrash metal burning the precious ears of my beloved relatives. Apparently I failed to be specific when it came to sound effects, however, for when the best man finished up his speech, there were (oh my God) cymbal crashes and “ba dum BOMP!” punctuating every joke. I was furious, and in fact, told every single attendee at the wedding how pissed I was, so I’m told (I’d had a lot of Bloody Marys, honestly, to help me push past the introverted urges, which apparently were cured, as I was so damn chatty). I met a few people whose only memory of me is ranting in my wedding dress about the goddamn DJ and the goddamn sound effects and oh my God, did you hear the CYMBAL CRASH after Jeff made that joke?
I also recall quite distinctly, despite the vodka, being outside talking to my boss (who later found my shoes and a random piece of lingerie outside and uh, had to bring them inside for me and ask, was this bra-looking thing mine and how about these shoes? Shoes yes, bra no. I have no idea incidentally, whose that was) and walking back into the reception to the blaring sounds of Nelly’s Hot in Herre and thinking really, was this my wedding? With the cymbals and the sound effects and Nelly? Yeah. One of my bridesmaids requested the Nelly song, and to this day apologizes, for I was apparently tooling through the dance floor on my way to the bathroom shouting, “HOT IN HERRE? OH MY GOD. HOT. IN. HERRE. JESUS CHRIST. I’LL GIVE YOU HOT IN HERRE, ASSHOLE.” I guess I was still bitter about the ba dump BOMPs, because honestly, I wasn’t mad about Nelly really. I mean, people were dancing at 2 p.m. Nelly must have some kind of magical draw! (I still cringe when I think about that song, though)
Point being, I don’t remember what our first dance song was, but I do remember how we did it, and we would have no idea how perfect it would turn out to be. Because neither of us could dance, despite a variety of half-assed attempts at learning via a wedding dance DVD, and oh, how I wish I was kidding with that statement, we opted for a reverse wedding dance where all married couples got on the dance floor and year by year, DJ Bob asked those who had been married less than a certain number of years leave the dance floor. As we’d been married all of three seconds, we were off first, hence avoiding any dancing at all, and one by one, the couples peeled off, leaving Ad’s grandparents left to finish out the majority of our first dance, as they’d been married more than 50 years. I’ve talked about them before, so I’ll spare you the schmaltz, but they were/are some of the best people I’d ever known, and seeing them dance is one of my favorite memories ever. And about two weeks after our wedding, his grandma got cancer, and it was, sadly, the beginning of the end. And so our wedding was the last time they actually ever danced together, and we have a ton of pictures to prove it. She died two years later (he still lives in their house). I just have no earthly idea what song it was, but it doesn’t really matter, because it was perfect just the way it was. I hated having a wedding so very much, but that memory alone was worth every single second of misery.
Happy Tuesday.
*Remy Zero
Entry Filed under: Nuttin'
21 Comments Add your own
1. vague | December 18th, 2006 at 10:20 pm
I feel exactly the same way about mustard, as does my entire family. We are a crazy, mustard-loving family. I have maybe three or four kinds of mustards, but if you looked in my parents’ fridge, oh god, there would be, like, twelve, maybe. Mustard: it is superior!
(Also: Hello! I recently came across your blog somehow and have been enjoying it very much. Besides the entertaining writing, you might be the only person I have found recently who knows the difference between “phase” and “faze.” Rock on with your great spelling! Really!)
2. Beth | December 19th, 2006 at 1:59 am
Mustard, yes. Brown and spicy. Or something. I never liked spicy foods until I was pregnant, and since you mentioned corn, I will share my memory of being pregnant and buying a roasted ear of corn at the county fair, and sprinkling it with chili pepper and…wow. A whole new world opened up to me. Ketchup (catsup) ? Boo. Mustard? Yay.
Loved the story about your wedding, J.
3. Nothing But Bonfires | December 19th, 2006 at 6:05 am
Well, I think what OBVIOUSLY happened was that someone took “Hot in Herre” rather too seriously, and started stripping off all their clothes (that IS the song that goes “it’s getting hot in here / so take off all your clothes,” right? I don’t listen to much Nelly. Or any, actually.) And THAT’s why that strange bra-type thing was found outside on the ground! Because someone got carried away! It may even have been DJ Bob Katzen himself. Presuming he had bizarre cross-dressing tendencies.
Also, with you on mustard all the way. In fact I’m going to make us t-shirts that say TEAM MUSTARD. Which reminds me, the first time I met my friend’s new boyfriend, he was wearing a yellow shirt that just said MUSTARD. And I think the point was that you were supposed to go “hey, you’ve got mustard on your shirt!” But then again I don’t know why you would VOLUNTARILY invite that kind of response, because it seems like it would be incredibly irritating, no?
4. Claire | December 19th, 2006 at 7:00 am
THAT’S the song i was trying to think of of the other day on your Jimmy has Asthma post.
Nelly!! I totally forgot who did that song. Ugh. I would have a total tantrum if i heard that playing at my wedding- i can’t imagine anyone blames you for that. Soo…. eeeugghh. Ew.
5. Lawyerish | December 19th, 2006 at 7:19 am
I don’t care how gross it is, I love mayonnaise. Not, like, by itself or anything. But generally mixed with a little ketchup, which, together, forms the perfect condiment for fries.
6. Heather B. | December 19th, 2006 at 7:55 am
I happen to adore both Remy Zero and mustard in all it’s various forms. But mostly honey mustard and very few restaurants make it perfectly. Sometimes it’s too mustardy and not enough honey, other times it seems as if they found a hive and had the bees all up in the mustard. I’m ambivalent when it comes to mayo. I like it in potato salad and tuna salad and on the ocassional (faux) BLT. There’s also something different – good different – about the mayo in Europe. It’s tastier there and I could dip my fries in it all day long.
Ok, enough with the condiment talk because now I could use some fries.
7. Sadie | December 19th, 2006 at 7:56 am
You had me with everything in this post, except mustard. Mustard is a smelly vile condiment, and if it’s on my cheeseburger WHICH I SPECIFICALLY ORDERED SANS MUSTARD I cannot eat it, and I throw it away in disgust, and sometimes even cry because I am still hungry but mustard is pungent, and it soaks into the bun, and even if you scrape it off it’s STILL THERE.
The DJ, at my wedding, who was explicitly forbidden to play “Back got Back” or “Hot in Herrre” (I belive we must’ve been married around the same time – 2002?), apparently thought it would be okay to instead bust out “The Thong Song” by um, Sisqo. So that was a nice wedding memory, Nana’s horrified face and my drunk younger brother grinding on my new sister-in-law.
Wow, so commenting on your website is really cathartic for me, it seems.
8. maggie | December 19th, 2006 at 8:20 am
My head is reeling…from point a to point b to your grandparent’s dancing.
I myself am fond of Plochman’s mustard, but it’s been hard to find of late. It’s the kind of just right mustard that you can eat out of the jar. Or on a pretzel.
The only dancing memory I have of my own wedding is my sister and I dancing on the kitchen counters to Ry Cooder singing “Little Sister”. At her wedding, Prince’s “Sexy Motherf*cker” brought down the house.
Happy Tuesday indeed.
9. Amity | December 19th, 2006 at 8:21 am
You ended this post on such a sweet note–I LOVE it.
10. Jamie | December 19th, 2006 at 8:37 am
Wow – I knew the answers to those questions would be stunners. I must admit to being a BIT disappointed in your commitment to mustard, as I am the world’s biggest ketchup fan. But I’m 100% behind you on the mayo thing. Yecch.
11. lizgwiz | December 19th, 2006 at 8:53 am
Yay for mustard! I, too, love mustard and have no use for mayonnaise and almost no use for ketchup (only baked on top of meatloaf or, since I’m a vegetarian, “meatless loaf”). But I love mustard in all its forms, including, I’m not ashamed to admit, plain old yellow. Yeah, I know, I know, but sometimes that’s what I want. Like sometimes, despite my love for really good cheese, I want squirt cheese from a can on my Triscuit. I blame my cracker ancestry.
12. Nancy | December 19th, 2006 at 9:10 am
It was Hair Show. I know this because there was NOTHING on last night and I scrolled through the damned guide about 25 times and kept seeing Hair Show.
I too love mustard. There is NOTHING like a hot pretzel and Guldens. Nothing.
13. Andrea | December 19th, 2006 at 9:20 am
Okay, I have to draw the line at mustard with grainy stuff in it. Because I don’t like to eat anything with a grainy consistency. Brings me back to a bad clam dish that I swore still had sand in it. Yech! But I generally like mustard (especially on Corn Dogs – because corn is good for something!) and ketchup and mayo (more Miracle Whip fan though). But for my French Fries? Ranch dressing. Oh yeah!
Dammit, now I’m hungry.
My husband’s uncle was the DJ at our wedding — was his wedding gift to us, really. Though we had a night wedding, so some songs just seemed more appropriate. What’s weird is that I got drunk on the limo bus we rented to drive us to pretty places around town (and by us I mean our wedding party and their sig others) and take pictures between the wedding and reception. Not terribly drunk, and you can’t really tell in the pictures, but I was Feelin’ Good (song by Nina Simone) and then when we got to the reception, all I wanted was water. It really was hot in there (how appropriate had Nelly released that song before we got married) and that heavy ass dress made me feel like I needed water. Though the bustle made my ass look so big I felt like a camel storing the water in my butt-hump. My (drunk) father in law didn’t believe that it was just water and had to actually test if to be sure. WTF? It was my wedding! If I had wanted to get rip roaring drunk, I should have been able to without admonitions from new in-laws with their own alcohol breath.
Okay, this comment is getting out of control. Aren’t you glad I let you in on my stream of consciousness thing I’ve got going on here?
14. Amanda | December 19th, 2006 at 12:08 pm
No lie, when I was a kid I would eat mustard sanwiches. Two pieces of white bread with a squooshy layer of my amber addiction between them.
15. H | December 19th, 2006 at 12:13 pm
I love the story about Ad’s grandparents.
Mustard is great, but there’s never enough ketchup for me.
I hated being the center of attention at my wedding. I should have eloped, but having a wedding seemed like the thing to do at the time. I bet most introverts feel the same way.
16. Suebob | December 19th, 2006 at 1:22 pm
In my neighborhood, corn on the cob is served thusly: spread with mayonnaise, squirted with lime juice, powdered with chile and rolled in shredded dry, salty cheese. I am not making this up. In other words, it would be your perfect storm of awfulness. But it is pretty good, IMO.
Of course, I come from a family where mayonnaise is the Universal Solvent. It may be mixed with tuna – or jello! You can make a salad with shredded carrots, raisins, pineapple – and mayo! Or cabbage, mayo, vinegar and sugar. We are indeed the Whitest People on the planet.
Here is my delicious mustard pizza recipe that I got from my sister, Laura – caramelize a bunch of onions (more than you think you need) by slicing them super thin and cooking them with a little oil over low heat for, oh, ever. Like an hour. Til they are nice and dark brown.
Meanwhile, get a pizza dough. I go to my favorite pizza place and say “Can I buy a dough?” and for $1.50, they sell me a blob. Or you can use the frozen kind.
Roll out the dough or mush it out with your fingers. Lift it up often so it doesn’t stick to your work surface. Smear the dough with a nice thin layer of mustard. I use Dijon. Others may work as well. Spread the onions around. Aren’t you sad that you didn’t make more? Oh well, it will be good this way, trust me. Now cheese. I use monterey jack, just a little, or I suppose mozzarella would do the trick, too, but I don’t like it as much.
Bake in a hot oven until it is all nice and browned and wonderful. Eat. Super yum.
17. winterwheat | December 19th, 2006 at 5:33 pm
I will no longer be able to look at a cob of corn without visualizing it as some kind of crude French tickler. And for some reason an image of Britney Spears and Kevin Federline just popped into my head.
Thanks. Thanks a lot.
18. jonniker | December 19th, 2006 at 6:56 pm
Y’all are awesome, seriously. These stories are cracking me up and do not ever ever ever be conscious of tome-like comments, because I love them.
It appears that I have ruined mayonnaise and corn for a few people, and I’m sorry. But! I have new mustard crushes and a mustard pizza recipe! Never let it be said that you are not useful and immensely entertaining
19. Andrea | December 19th, 2006 at 7:07 pm
I bet you Pepper Jack would be a good substitute to try on that pizza. That is if you like things a little spicy.
20. Melissa | December 19th, 2006 at 9:01 pm
You could never ruin mayonnaise for me. As Lawyerish said, not by itself or anything, but Lord do I load it onto my sandwiches. With mustard. Yellow, dijon, honey, grainy, I’m not picky.
You can’t ruin corn on the cob either (though I have made a determined effort to simply think of Corn! Sweet Corn! Corn with no hidden scary uses!) Plain corn, corn with butter, corn with salt and butter … mmm.
21. April | December 20th, 2006 at 9:55 am
Wow, we had the same wedding! I had a couple of cocktails and then walked around telling the guests how much I hated our DJ and I felt like I was at someone else’s crappy wedding. My husband and I were laughing about it at the end of the night- why would two people who HATE to be the center of attention have a wedding of all things? It was so traumatic and unlike 99% of brides I am SO THANKFUL it is over!
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