“DOUBT IT.”

DJ Chesh beamed the above gem to me from the Jewel supermarket in Rogers Park. I NEED THIS LUNCHBOX. How else do you expect me to carry my food?

–Maybe in your bag that’s emblazoned with cartoon snacks?

Maybe. [‘Ausiello TV’ on EW.com]

Thanks, sis! Meg and Dee went to Art Chicago last week and sent me some digital missives of the complex carbohydrates they thought would really REACH me.

“Heyyyy! Welcome to DR!”

Ugh. I miss Steak ‘n’ Shake.

Life’s eternal questions, embodied just as they should be in Wonka-bar form.

Here’s a still life featuring butter (a.k.a. my life).

These cupcakes actually do look dangerous. Did the icing factory run out of color OR WHAT?

Says Meg: “yes - those balloons are attached to that girls hair… hehe”

Dee Barrett, who was consulted for permission to post these photos merely as a courtesy (because I was going to post them anyway), gave the OK:

NO PROBLEMS HERE.

And in the spirit of indulgence….indulge me and watch these!

May 2, 2008 — ‘DWTS Talk’: Bye bye, Shannequin
May 5, 2008 — ‘Survivor Talk’ cameo! I’m a medic. Of course.

But boy oh boy can I talk or what? So OMG PLEASE CONTINUE TO WATCH THESE EW.COM VIDEOS. Lots of new ones are up on the most self-centered web page ever — DWTS Talk, Idolatry, and me interviewing cubicle stud Maksim Chmerkovskiy again. He keeps it real, unlike Snuffy.

But…Friend of DR Ben LaBolt has me beat because Katie Couric interviewed HIM. (at 03:25) [CBS.com]

If I believed in New Year’s Resolutions, mine would be to somehow look that awesome (see above) all year. That’s a relic from August ‘07. My friends — The Team — and I were in Michigan for New Buffalo’s illustrious Ship ‘n’ Shore Festival (holla!). A somewhat drunken but TOTALLY CHILL dance party to a playlist I’d created called “It Couldn’t Be Lamer: Dance Hits from the Mid-to-Late ’90s” ensued. We’d already eaten our weight in cheeseburgers, but dancing is tough, and being the motherly provider I am, I decided to root around in the laundry room fridge for something — anything — to replenish our calorie count. By some miraculous intervention a.k.a. “Dee Barrett being awesome,” there happened to be a spare cherry pie just sitting in there on a dish towel. Heavens!

Anyway, I could never do it on this blog because my name’s all the F over it and I would never want people to think I’m even slightly self-absorbed (ha!), but I kind of want someone to do a “Looking Great in ‘08″ series. It’d just be a pic of that person every day and then she’d scathingly critique her own appearance because half the time she’d be unshowered in a college hoodie. It’s only January 2nd and therefore still doable. She’d just have to fake a photo and say it happened yesterday. Maybe I should start an anonymous blog and just go for it. Hmm. Look for this anonymous blog around May when PopWatch mysteriously links to it. You think I’m kidding.

From Time.com’s Swampland blog:

The official reviews had not yet come in when the Barack Obama staffers started celebrating last night. And what better way to celebrate than a walk into the drive thru at McDonald’s? A function of audacity? Hope? Or maybe just change we can believe in.

(Obama spokesman Ben LaBolt, in the act of loving it.)

OH YES HE DIII-IIIIID.

I have never Ben prouder of my good friend and high school prom date (heeeey!), Ben fucking LaBolt. He shows up on the Internet all the time, but I never link to his mentions because frankly, they’re not consistent with my rather narrowly focused authorial agenda. Only after the ‘razzi catch him on a fast food joint WALK-THRU while sporting a shitgrin, cool jeans and coat, and attractive “I live on the bus” facial hair does LaBolt finally show up here. Look at him, hungry for that grease. 50,000 Big Macs could wallop that parking lot in a torrential hailstorm and not only would this guy make it safely onto the bus, he’d already be on his seventh fry.

Ben LaBolt, Diminishing Returns (finally) salutes you. And keep it up… a well-publicized Taco Bell visit will get you your own category.

GO TEAM.

Really. So many of the photographic documentation of my summer has taken place at the Jersey Sub Shop, which is obviously located in New Buffalo, Michigan. The cookies are decorated by a crackhead, there are random Shreks and cows out front, and worst of all, the sandwiches aren’t even that great. So why is such a large percentage of my digipic options to throw on DR JSS-related? No clue, but I find it hilarious. So here are some more. The JSS is totally my “beat” for the summer. I’m such a journalist.

JERSEY SUB SHOP UPDATES, AUGUST 2007

Once a valiant standing figure, here is where Shrek sits, crumpled up, today.

The cookies have received a major facelift from last month, but still don’t look like anything anyone would ever choose to eat. (They don’t know what they’re missing!)

Contrary to what you’d expect from the lawn outside, the JSS is not actually a dairy. It’s just very supportive of the lactose community. Also, my friend and fellow Show Choir alum Kristers makes her DR debut, in just about the most flattering shot imaginable.

Apparently, until the end of July? What? Just because of The Simpsons movie? ANNOYING. It’s not that I have anything against The Simpsons. I’m just really, really into Slurpees. It’s a matter of vocab. I do not care for this.

While in the midwest, I visited probably 15 different 7-Elevens, happily selecting the Coke or Pepsi flavors for my whole cup… of SLURPEE. But the last store, on Friday, had Mountain Dew AND Coke, or what I like to call The Bifecta. This means I got to crank both flavors out in spurts to create a zebra effect. Not a crazy amount of layers. Six at the most. Anything more than six is overkill, unless you opt for the giant cup.

I was thrilled. This is me being thrilled.

You should see me when I’m ecstatic.

Note that I attach the plastic top before pulling the lever, so that the SLURPEE molds itself into a perfect dome, no hassles. It pisses me off when people don’t know how or just don’t remember to do this. But then I quickly get over it, because other people’s ineptitude ends up making me feel superior, which is always great!

Also, check out what the security cam picked up:

Soooooo embarrassing.

My mom, Dee, and I got this cookie last week at the Jersey Sub Shop, which is obviously located in Michigan.

The JSS is amazing on all levels including “has giant Shrek outside for no reason” (see much less ambitious post, below). But come on. WHAT is this design?

We didn’t quite grasp the extent of its mind-numbing quandary when we first ordered it. At point of sale, it was basically like “We need to get a big-ass cookie, end of story.” Then we got home and, post-subs, just kept staring at the cookie for entire minutes. We checked out different angles, adjusted the lighting… at one point I deliberately walked off in a huff, like “I’ve HAD it with that cookie” and then of course walked right back to see if a whiplashed, fake-first impression would do the trick. It totally did not.

We flat-out refused to eat the cookie until we figured out what was supposed to be on top of it, then gave up and ate it anyway. Among our guesses: Snowflake (all me), [confused look] (Dee), simulation of Spirograph (all me), [exasperated look] (Dee), variation on the Burger King crown featuring squiggly lines representative of what happens inside after you eat Burger King (all me). I thought snowflake was pretty spot-on, but Dee gave a final [ENRAGED LOOK] that ran a close second.

You will note that this cookie is roughly four times the circumference of a modestly sized glass of Diet Dr. Pepper. I’m all about the SCALE these days.

I had one more guess and basically nothing to do for the rest of the day, so I drove back to the JSS to confront the guy at the counter head-on about the puzzling design. It was weird.

ANNIE: Hi.

DECORATOR: Oh, hello!

ANNIE: (awkwardly, unnecessarily) I’m back!

DECORATOR: [blank stare]

ANNIE: Did you, like, decorate those cookies? [points at others]

DECORATOR: Yeah! I decided to give it a shot today.

ANNIE: Was the usual decorator not around?

DECORATOR: Right.

ANNIE: Oh, that’s really cool of you. [?!] I have to ask. What exactly were you going for, here? My mom and I have been debating it for half an hour. We’re so confused. I mean, I’m all about artistic expression and doing your own thing [?!], and since this is clearly “your own thing,” [air quotes] I love it just for being itself and… existing. But… what did you have in mind when you set out to do these? TELL ME YOUR FUCKING VISION, MAN.

DECORATOR: [thinks for a long time]

ANNIE: [thinks about leaving because this is SO AWFUL]

DECORATOR: You know what? I have no idea.

ANNIE: I think I know what it was. [gingerly extends a printout of the following image]

ANNIE: It was Queen Frostine’s wand from Candy Land. It’s been on your mind for decades and you’re just now coming to terms with it.

DECORATOR: Holy shit.

ANNIE: [smirks]

DECORATOR: I think you’re RIGHT!

ANNIE: You… like… Candy Land?

STEVE HOLT: No. … I LOVE it!

—

True or false: The above did not actually happen, because I’m way too lazy to re-leave the house.

It did not stop me.

At least I’m updating!

This shit is STILL hanging on the door to our garage in Illinois. My optimistic poem makes me die inside a bit, superficially because of how thin the rainbow’s red stripe is compared to all the others. Not to mention the misplaced comma after “rainbow.” Just kidding! Sort of. I really do think these two things every time. But it’s not like I can’t handle it.

I much prefer my younger sister’s “poem,” at left. Very spoken-word. Exclamatory. WAY cooler to perform. We should totally stage a slam!

(Just tried. Will post video entitled “Slammin’ It!” or “All in the Slamily” later. Probably not.)

Oh tiny, not-yet-disillusioned young Annie… where the F is “this rainbow”? I’ll spend my life trying to find it because you said it was there. You little fucker.

I made it to Stray Dime Island. How pretty is it?!

No, I’m at the Barrett Family Compound (BFC, which also stands for big fucking cabin) in New Buffalo, MI, hard at work in the fields of eating, drinking, and developing skin cancer. This is my first official “vacation” all year! I plan on using it to avoid any houeshold duty whatsoever. My dad’ll be like, “Yo, A, how ’bout a refill on ice water?” and I’ll wince and shake my head, “Sorry,” even though I’ll be standing at the sink, spitting cherry pits that don’t belong in the sink into the sink. Or Dee will cry out, “Annie! Cut yourself a phat slice of raspberry-almond danish!” and I’ll glare at her from my perch on the couch, then point to myself with both index fingers with a powerful smirk that clearly conveys: “ON VACATION.” She will then serve it to me with a fork, and I will laugh and laugh, but not hard enough to make my stomach muscles exert themselves, because that’d be like… working.

And I should have showered.

Photo is from two weeks ago. Keepin’ it fresh!

Click here to watch possibly the greatest thing to ever occur in the Great Lake State, and that’s including Dee Barrett’s summer ‘05 purchase of this cake in the shape of a hot dog.

The one thing that makes it truly awesome is that while most of the stupid, mindless, “funny” viral videos I have to watch for work daily are contrived to the point of being completely fake and pointless, this dispatch is actually real. I can’t see how one could screen-write anything better. WHY DO WE EVEN TRY.

I also dig the giant pot leaf emblazoned onto the transcript. Stay classy, Michigan!

They’re open. Go in.

Rad ’80s font greatly appreciated.

I spent the week in Illinois. You know what that means!

Here’s another rare find along Chicago’s Interstate 55. This highway sure does have a highly developed sense of humor. (One of its other features, a subliminal advertisement for California Pizza Kitchen, has playfully toyed with my heart since I was wee.)

I think I swerved across three lanes while attempting that photo, thus ironically increasing my chances of “getting plowed.” This site is so gonna come up on google searches for “getting plowed”. Ugh. Yes!

Then there’s this:

The Interstate 294 shot I always wanted to remember to take and now I have. I rule! It’s an Entenmann’s FACTORY! I’ve always missed it because it pops up right before O’Hare and I’m always busy rummaging through my candy stash for the flight or realizing I left my passport in a different car or something. I’d usually make some sort of exasperated sound, like “Enhhhh!” to which my concerned parents would be like “What?!” And then I’d keep silent, because “I just missed taking a f—ing photo of the Entenmann’s factory — AGAIN” isn’t exactly how I like to be remembered, post-visit.

Kidding! Look, mom and dad! Entenmann’s factory! Remember me?

A few weeks ago, my sister and I ate at The Cheesecake Factory in Chicago. We stood in their nasty waiting area (the walls resemble intestinal tracts) for half an hour on a Sunday night. We’re insane.

Anyway, between us, we ordered three staggeringly large (because they all are) menu items. The first was the spinach/artichoke/but mostly cheese dip. It was yummy in the way that a deviled egg is satisfying a few hours before the main Thanksgiving meal. Yes, you want the egg — but were steaming slices of carved meat and stuffing to be plunked down in front of you, you’d toss it over your shoulder without even looking.

Such was the scene at TCF, as round 2 (Cajun Chicken Littles, with garlic mashed, veggies (gross) and two dipping sauces) swooped in for the kill on our massive table that should have seated at least six.

I call this shot… “Abandoned Chip.”

You want it.

Damnit, Annie! There’s so much freakin’ dip left! Looking at it now makes me crazy.

Have you ever done this?

I wish the CVS stores in NYC were as awesome as the ones in Chicago:

And the price is right!

CVS is okay, but I’ll always be true to Walgreen’s, the drugstore that used to dominate the midwest before CVS invaded. I like their scripted font, it’s what I always wanted my cursive to look like, until I gave it up in 5th grade after still being unable to draw a capital S that didn’t look like a treble clef, which apparently I considered to be more important, and it was.

Note that I also just compared writing cursive to drawing.

Okay, so check out the interior of a different CVS store in Long Beach, Indiana. (”I don’t know where she finds these barneys!”)

What?!

Instead of the lists at the top of each aisle, there were hundreds of neon bubble signs poking out from random places on the shelves, SCREAMING where shoppers could find the most embarrassing products in the store. It’s hard enough for men and women to coexist in the “feminine products” aisle without these giant grasshopper signs to help the awkwardness along. I particularly enjoy the distinction between “pantiliners” and just “liners.” Is there one? I can’t believe I’m even discussing it!!!

Just kidding. Maybe that’s a silly attitude, and CVS is pioneering a whole new way of approaching the tampon/diaper/anti-diarrheal aisle dilemma. Maybe these terms should be out there in the open in order to promote acceptance and love across the universe.

Huh.

It’s about time we discussed a very important part of Summer Eating: Appies.

That’s appetizers in Barrett-speak. It’s a synonym of rushies, because people apparently eat them in a rush. I don’t. I prefer to savor.

Below is a typical August appies array in New Buffalo, MI:

It’s nothing special. Just chips and dip. Many food snobs might refuse to call such simple fare “appetizers.” I think that’s lame. If something comes before the main meal, it goes on the table, and people get a serious kick out of eating it, it’s an appie. No question.

On the surface, everything seems fine about the spread above. Four kinds of chip and three dips — what could be better? No problem! Everyone’s happy. When facing off against twelve possible chip/dip combos, people generally tend to choose a favorite pairing and stick with it, which I think is bogus. If Dee Barrett bothered to put out seven separate troughs, I’m going to lap up the scraps from all of them.

But then there’s a problem: You lose yourself in one conversation or three bloody marys, and suddenly you stick a sweet potato Terra Chip into chili con queso and then pummel the two of those into your mouth, which was conveniently just hanging wide open.

WRONG!

DR’s advice: prepare a site map of the appies array in your head:

Neon green is a match! Pomegranate red means stop. Most of these you can determine based on common sense, but if you need to sample, by all means, do it. After all, you deserve the biggest portion of each bowl simply by being the wonderful you, phenomenally.

(File under “Things I Tell Myself in Michigan”)

Guess who’s back? Me.

Over the last month, I’ve taken loads of unnecessary photos in the midwest (Michigan and Chicago). Most were of food. A lot were of Chicken McNuggets. With a car to myself, I could have gone anywhere and purchased rare, impressive, and photogenic meals, but instead I ended up lining up nuggets and White Castle burgers in what I’d almost venture to call “artistic” settings.

Sack of Ten

Discussion questions:

1. Why only ten?

2. Artistic?

3. If we can’t actually see Slider 8, can we be sure it exists?

4. Sliders 5, 7, and 10 are upside down. Is this significant? Was it intentional? Why or why not?

5. What, ultimately, is Annie trying to say in this piece? Is the photo about burgers, or is it about longing? Construct an expository paragraph containing the word “gurgle” that explains your choice.

After nearly a decade of ambivalence and/or not caring about White Castle, I’ve finally decided I’m in love with it. There are no exceptions. You couldn’t throw anything on that menu at me that I wouldn’t catch in my mouth and enjoy, including the new Hidden Valley Chicken Rings (right, on my All Reheated, All The Time conveyor belt, with a tiny bit of Pizza Hut Stuffed Crust pie pokin’ its way into the frame… with a bite out of it… I’m so gross). Whitey’s also carries Tobasco Chicken Rings, which I’m guessing just means thousands of tiny red flakes instead of green.

The Chicken Rings should strike any normal person as nasty. Me, I’m impressed. Shaping disgusting chicken innards into small circles, then deep frying and caking them in ten times more artificial flavoring than would ever be called for. Admit it: It’s a wonderful idea!

(Remember when Tobias cries out “It’s a wonderful restaurant!” at Burger King on Arrested Development? That’s in my top ten.)

I’m a firm believer that once you find the perfect consistency for a certain food, you’ve got to make sure that, if possible, you get to eat it in that exact state every time. Case in point: I discovered that baking the Sliders at 450 degrees for about five minutes — even if they’re already fresh from the restaurant, “fresh” and “restaurant” being understandably shaky terms in this case — produces my favorite Slider consistency. The bun, which is so bulbous and shiny and expertly shaped, like an infant’s head, looks and tastes better when it’s charred a bit, at least on the top. That way, you get some crunch at the very beginning of the bite and then once you’re through the “shell” (similar to the candy coating of an M&M) you get to chew the rest of the still-soft inner bun. Mmmm.

Beware of the tongue-singeing cheese! It’ll getcha. But it’s worth it, because later you’ll be doing something else, think “why does my tongue kill?” and remember, fondly, “Ahhh, White Castle.” And you’ll probably be on the toilet.

All of the above is to say that even though I’m back in Brooklyn, when I don’t know what to write about in the next couple of weeks, I’m just going to do throwbacks to my long-ass vacation. They’ll come out of nowhere, like cool weather and the new Pepperidge Farm Rainbow Goldfish. Watch out!

Here I am in Michigan, not updating DR:

Can you believe it? The sun is setting.

My hand reminds me of medieval Christian paintings, when baby Jesus or whoever the hell else was in those scenes would hold up certain fingers to boast their holiness. That wasn’t really what I was going for here.

Right now I’m in Chicago, frolicking joyfully in a wavepool of WiFi signals. I’ll mostly be staying in New Buffalo, MI for the next few weeks. Yes! Vacation!

I originally envisioned updating my blog from the beach a la Sandra Bullock in The Net, except she was conducting some sort of official business and I’d be attempting to better describe how it feels to eat a particularly sandy potato chip. (Great!)

Anyway, I thought Internet wouldn’t be a problem up there, but for this specific DR-based computer, it is. Sandra could explain why. I can’t.

Meanwhile, I’m heading up to the non-Internet area again, for two weeks. I’ll try to figure it out and update with important reports on chili con queso and the Michigan City, Indiana Steak n Shake, but can’t make any promises.

I’m aware that I suck. I should be Auf’d!