Yeah, just in case you’ve been under a rock and haven’t been reading all my other social networking posts, I thought it was time to share my recent brush fame. I know. What? How? Why? Oh, forget it. Go back to sleep.
For the rest of you, everyone who didn’t land here while looking for Vampire Fangs that is, somehow in spite of all my best efforts at anonymity (cough, cough, er, um, yeah) I’ve managed to somehow slip up on my own personal 15 min. of fame, catch it, and wear it like a Party Hat. I know, SRSLYWTF? I’m sure all of you collectively just began reconstructing the recent past in order to determine which news day was so slow that I became part of the news instead of just insulting the heck out of it. And actually that would be last Monday. August 24th, 2009. The day I was quoted in a story that ran on the FRONT PAGE OF THE NYTIMES!!!!! Yes, FRONT PAGE!!! Yes, ME!!!
And how I got there? In that article. That’s even more amazing. The Twitter. Yes. The Twitter. And the movie Julie & Julia. And, lest I forget to give credit where it’s due, me and my big mouth. Or fingers. Since it was on The Twitter that I was snarking after all. Because that’s where the lovely and talented Stephanie Clifford found me and my snark. On The Twitter.
Sidenote: Ohholycrap – people actually read The Twitter? For research? Oy that means trouble. Big trouble. Oy.
But anyway, Ms. Clifford found my tweets. Then she did some research (including a fruitless trip to this paen to absurdity and mostly silence, lately anyway) and then she sent me a Facebook message. That message led to a phone conversation where we discussed what can be considered appropriate ingredients for Jell-O (no fish or meat, only fruit and marshmallows and maybe nuts and cottage cheese), my rules about not eating foods with faces still attached, my mild aversion to boiled pork fat, oh and my little problem with red wine. Not really a problem, I don’t think. More an appreciation. A serious appreciation. That’s enough.
And the rest, as they say, is history. ON THE COVER OF THE NY TIMES. I mean, come on, that simple bit of typing is so historical it defies description, don’cha think? Me? A simple cavegirl from Dandridge, and Knoxville, and Lakeland, FLA. With no real job in two plus years and a casual social media addiction (okay, maybe a serious one, but who’s counting?). Me. Tweeting about French Beef Stew. And about how I probably made Julia roll over in her grave when I added Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom and French Onion Soups to my Fauxguignon.
And BTW – all you Cr. of Mushroom soup haters out there? STFU! I’m serious. Just be quiet. I’m cooking for Bob and a ten year old. And there’s not much difference in the two of them. And neither is going to be mistaken for James Beard, mkay? So just go away. That is all.
But anyway, after my snarking, and some chatting, suddenly I’m some sort of Oracle of Food. All over the interwebz with my profundity. The Oracle of Bad food, if you believe all those commentors out there, but an Oracle nonetheless. I guess you can call me The Oracle of Magpies. And then you can bring me a danged cupcake. Because I’m the Oracle, remember? So hurry. I need a snack.
And, because this hasn’t gotten ridiculous enough yet, the story has gone viral. I even got quoted on CNBC and in the AARP Newsletter. I know, huh? Actually, from my google-fu results, it appears that there’s lots o’ content grabbers out there… I’m just sayin’. And I’m still not sure whether the in-laws know that my story even made my hubby’s little hometown rag – THE LA TIMES!!! And the linkydoos just keep hitting. But really, like I said above, the comments on that FRONT PAGE ARTICLE? Are really cracking me up. Seriously. Because I could care less what a bunch of snooty foodies say about my recipe changes. Not even a little bit. Because all they can do with their righteous indignation and "ounce of pretention, pound of manure" is throw those comments up after my FRONT PAGE INTERVIEW!!! Yep. My interview. Not yours. Because why? Oh yeah, that’s right, THEY WEREN’T INTERVIEWED. THEY DIDN’T GET QUOTED. Um, no, that would be me! So there! And to all of you I simply say "go away or I shall taunt you a second time!" Well, okay, maybe I didn’t say that, but Monty Python did. And nobody has said it better since.
But anyway, after all that, back to the story. After all the hullabaloo, last Monday evening we went out and bought 4 copies of the NY TIMES. You know, because I was on PAGE ONE! And then I came home, did the dishes, and went to bed feeling all like I was some sort of big deal. Only not so much. And life went on. But then Wednesday evening, when everything was back to our version of normal, because life’s random like this, while I was enjoying Wine Wednesday* with my cousin and friends, my hometown paper – The Lakeland Ledger – came calling. Why? Well, duh. Because, remember? HOMETOWN GIRL? ON FRONT PAGE of NY TIMES? And, truly, anybody from here would tell you that there haven’t been too many people from Lakeland, Florida who have ever made the cover of the NY Times. Unless (as my Mother said and I quote) "they’re either dead or going to jail or both". Now you see where I get it from? But anyway, I guess because of that, they wanted to talk to me a little more in depth. All because of a snark. On The Twitter.
And, because they’re really cool at the Ledger, the reporter asked me if he and his Photographer could come over on Sunday afternoon and watch me as I recreated a little more of Miss Julia’s magic. And I said yes. And recreate that magic I did. Borrowing my cousin’s lovely home since mine had a last minute malfunction. Wearing my wedding pearls from Bob and my "Don’t Make Me Poison Your Food" Apron that’s always such a hit at the family gatherings. And this time using actual recipes from THE BOOK. With no freaky substitutions. With 3 lbs of real Plugra Butter and 2 cups of Publix Whipping Cream and three whole bags of assorted yumminess from Whole
Paycheck Foods in Orlando. Because we don’t have a Greenwise Markets here in Lakeland, even if we are the home of Publix. And, really, I’m not kidding, there were 3 lbs. of. Butter. Really. My arteries crackled this morning I think. But my skin was so shiny! Oh, and for my closeup, I also had my cast of thousands helping me. And Bob. And the Photographer took lots and lots of pictures. Of everything. Including Kaylea (my mini-me) as she decorated the Butter Cake with powdered Sugar, fresh Raspberries & Blackberries, and fresh whipped cream. And both myself and my extended family all got our 15 min. this time. And it was a very good thing indeed.
And that’s the tale of my Semi-Famous week. And now, if I sound familiar to any of you after all this then it’s sure to be because you read about me in the NY TIMES. Yeah. Right. Actually it’s more likely to be because you overheard me berating Bob over the Tomatoes at the Oakbridge Publix. I’m sure it’s the latter. Send him a sympathy note. He’ll appreciate it. And I’m sure that pretty soon I’ll get over this brush with semi-fame. After The Ledger runs their big spread in next Sunday’s Life section. Don’t worry, I’ll send out the links. Are you kidding? Ha! But for now I’ve just got to tell you all that it’s pretty damned cool to be able to say (or type) that I was there. On the cover of the NY Times. And I know what it feels like. Pretty cool. And amazingly, I didn’t say anything I wouldn’t want my Mom to read there. Or the rest of the world. I know. Shocking. Coming from me. Coming from a tweet. On the Twitter. Not too shabby for a girl from the hills of east Tennessee and central Florida. In fact, I still can’t believe it. Amazing.**
*For the uninitiated, Wine Wednesday is my weekly girl time. With Wine. And snacks. And gossip. And Wine. Oh shut up. You’re bringing the next bottle. I like big muscular reds. And MagPies’s cupcakes. Make a note.
**And for those of you who might not be familiar with my writing, I’m really not this full of myself. It’s mostly snark. Really. Just snark. Because WTF? Me? In the NY Times? It simply boggles the mind. And if you know me, then you know full well that inside I’m still laughing my considerable butt off. Because I’m just me. A Smartass from Nowhere. And now I’ve managed to turn myself into a family Trivial Pursuit question. Again. Damn.