Not Just Another Meatball

While in Los Angeles, I have been lucky enough to dine as some of best places the city has to offer. Last Thursday night, we went to Cecconi’s in West Hollywood. My girlfriends had been telling me this was one of their favorite places to eat in LA and upon arrival, I could see why. We passed through the terrace into the bar and main dining area. The room was aesthetically pleasing both with the decor as well as the clientele. I shouldn’t have been surprised seeing as Cecconi’s comes to you from the same folks as Soho House.

We started with the goat cheese and summer truffle pizza and when I tell you it’s to die for, you’re lucky I’m here to type this. This was no dainty pizza either. It could have easily fed four, but we went ahead and left room for our entrees. By far one of the most delicious white pizzas I have ever had.

For entrees, we ordered tuna tartare, which they bring to the table so that you can instruct them as to how you’d like it prepared. Also ordered was the halibut with lemon and chili rainbow chard. It isn’t often that a side is even better than the main, but this was one of those instances. I could have eaten an entire bowl of that chard.  The crab ravioli with saffron sauce did not disappoint either. I love any type of ravioli, but this one was especially good. The pasta was homemade and the crab was so moist that there was not even need for sauce.

We didn’t stick around for dessert, but I hear that the wood oven baked pear gratin with cinnamon ice cream is worth saving room for.

I can certainly say that this will be somewhere I return. Perhaps I will throw a little dinner party in the private Butterfly room. It’s not a cheap night out, but would certainly impress a date and is worth the splurge if you are looking an incredibly delicious meal.

Cecconi’s West Hollywood

8764 Melrose Avenue

Los Angeles, CA 90069

310-432-2000

xx,

WhyDid

The List Volume V

You know what time it is:

1. The man on the train with bongo drums. See my iPod? I’m good, but thanks.
2. Tapestry luggage. 
3. Airhorns.
4. Flames on anything besides a fire.
5. Bluetooth headsets. You know when you see people chatting away to themselves and you think they are totally insane? Who the eff are you talking to?
6. The phrase, “We’ve got them by the short and curlies.”
7. Ocho Cinco’s flesh colored DWTS outfit. Prob. what did him in.
8. Ocho Cinco’s new dating show.
9. Ocho Cinco.
10. Men who don’t flush the toilets in unisex public bathrooms. Yeah, I’m talking to you, shirtless guy at Soho House.

xx,

WhyDid

Text in the City

Things have changed since Granny was going out on dates.  While we think some of her dating advice is brilliant (a good man’s worth waiting for, why buy the cow when the milk’s free?, if you run, he’ll follow. if you follow, he’ll run), Nana doesn’t have a clue as to what we are up against in the age of the internet. Between social networking and cell phones…. we’ve got our work cut out for us.

I’m the first to admit that one of the first things I do when I meet someone new… is Google. Granted, I Google everything because I don’t like to not know the answer, but Googling love interests can be treacherous (curiosity did kill the cat, my friends). Once you’ve clicked “search” you’re bombarded with Linked In, Facebook, Friendster (WHO still uses that), Myspace (WHO still uses that), Twitter, photos, or perhaps, nothing. I can’t decide how I feel about finding “nothing” but in my experience, the more “Googleable” (made that up) a person is, the more heartache that can potentially ensue.

We all know Twitter was responsible for putting the final nail in the coffin of my last relationship and from time to time Twitter eff’s with my current situations. It really is a blessing and a curse. I mean, when you broadcast your whereabouts on the internet… Not to mention that people can now “@” you without permission… Someone’s bound to catch you in a lie. You call it stalking, I call it resourcefulness. Tomato, tomato.

I know people who have literally canceled dates after checking out their prospective suitor’s Facebook page.  One too many photos at Bagatelle brunch with a magnum of rose turned me off from a gentleman who requested the pleasure of my company. No, thank you! You are now able to get a peak into people’s lives before you’ve even shared an appetizer.  I know what your mom looks like, where you last went on vacation, and don’t worry, I’ve scouted out your ex before we’ve even checked our coats. So really, what is there left to talk about? Wanna make out?

Shit storms have started between couples who are both on Facebook. “Who the hell did is Samantha Brown?” “WTF is Tommy doing writing on your wall?” I no longer want to be Facebook friends with boys I’m dating. Why don’t you go ahead and not worry about what I’m doing and I’ll do the same. It’s unnecessary drama added with really no upside.

Texting has become a skill to be honed at this point. Are you reading the subtext of the text? I’ve received texts that I needed Cliffs Notes to decipher. When I re-read them later (because we all like to go back and overanalyze) I realized that I was having a completely different conversation than my counterpart. I thought we were talking about dancing. He thought we were talking pants off dance off. Woops. Obviously, I need to pick up a copy of Flirtexting STAT. This also leads to all the questions of when to text back, should you text back, NEVER double text. It’s virtually impossible to have a real conversation via text message. I can’t tell you the number of times things have been totally misconstrued over text. Obviously, my sense of humor is not conveyed well digitally.

Um, and shall I even proceed into BBM territory? Good word, those damn D’s and R’s are out to ruin my life. I actually try NOT to give out my PIN to guys I just start seeing because I really just can’t deal with the politics that are Blackberry Messenger. Yes, I “read” your message. No, I have no response. I can’t deal with the blinking red light forcing me to check all BBM’s (OCD much?) and therefore, forcing me to respond. Perhaps this is a strong argument for making the iPhone switch.

Wanna delve into FourSquare? Now you can alert the world as to where you are at every waking moment of your life. My apartment building is a check in point. That in and of itself is creepy. I’m not sure I need everyone to know where I am at all times… Why not implant yourself with a GPS? Might as well. Now you can “just happen” to show up where your crush is. What a coincidence!

While sitting at the pool at Soho House (berating the man next to me for having an iPad), he informed me of a new iPhone app that will allow all single people to identify all the other single people in the room. Looks like I better invest in a fake wedding ring ASAP.

I think I’d like to revert back to hand written notes (send me an E-card, I dare you) and telephone calls. Maybe there truly is such a thing as TMI.

P.S. since we are stuck with technology, you should probably follow WhyDid on Twitter, and join our Facebook page. If you can’t beat ‘em…

xx,

WhyDid

On the Run

I remember a girl telling me on my 23rd birthday that after 25 it all starts going down hill. I thought she was just being a bitch (obviously because I was 23 and knew EVERYTHING), but unfortunately, she was speaking the truth. Suddenly you pay for that scoop of ice cream and your size 24 skinny jeans start to feel a bit more like sausage wrappers. DUB TEE EFF??

Being a girl who used to be able to house an entire pizza (solo), not go to the gym and never see the effects, this was devastating not to mention confusing. So, instead of bitching about my thunder thighs (which I did do for a while), I forced myself to fall in love with running. I only wish I had always been active so as not to go into shock when this oh so special life change occurred.  I don’t even wanna tell you about the adult acne that awaits you, my little chickadees!

Anyway, now that I’ve come to terms with the fact that I need to do more than walk to Soho House in heels across the cobblestone (which is no easy feat, mind you) to qualify as a workout, I’ve compiled a playlist of some songs that help me get through the sweat and tears (mostly tears) of my workout. Basically, the music is my favorite part of getting buff. I like music to be played loud. This is also probably the reason I still like nightclubs (to be discussed at a later date) and why I used to like driving (which I leave to the cabbies nowadays).

WhyDid’s Workout Plan (which may prove to be more useful than Kanye’s):

1. Joan Jett- I Love Rock N Roll
2. Christina Aguilera- Not Myself Tonight
3. La Roux- Bulletproof
4. Girlicious (yeah, that’s right, Girlicious)- Stupid Shit
5. Santigold- Creator
6. Shwayze- Get U Home
7. Kings of Leon- My Party
8. M.I.A.- 10 Dollar
9. N.E.R.D.- She Wants To Move
10. Sam Sparro- Black and Gold
11. Ashlee Simpson- Outta My Head
12. Lenny Kravitz- Are You Gonna Go My Way
13. Lloyd Banks- Beamer, Benz, and Bentley
14. Livvi Franc- Now I’m That Chick
15. Beastie Boys- Sabotage
16. Beyonce- Ring the Alarm
17. Kenna- Out of Control
18. The White Stripes- Seven Nation Army

While some of my choices may seem a bit obscure/bizarre, I’m not exactly training for the 2012 Olympic Track Team and these songs set a good pace for as fast as my little legs can go. So, until they come up with some miracle cream/pill that just magically disintegrates fat, I will be burning rubber to my own little miracle playlist.

Feel the burn.

xx,

WhyDid

RiRi Rehab

Dear Rihanna,

First and foremost, I think you are exquisite. I remember seeing you on the rooftop of Soho House last summer and being stunned by your beauty. You truly are a gorgeous girl. Our entire group had to pick our chins up off our poolside bed/couch as you sashayed by.

That being said, dub tee eff is going on with your outfits? I get that you have your own “personal style” but it’s getting kind of offensive. You’re sort of channeling Taylor Momsen/Jenny Humphrey with your “I don’t give a f*#$” get ups. Guess where that got little J? Written off of Gossip Girl. So let me step in and stop you before someone decides to write you off.

I get it. You’ve had a rough go this past year. My heart goes out to you. I know firsthand what boy dbaggery looks/feels like. No one deserves that. However, looking like a crazy bag lady certainly isn’t the best revenge. Take a cue from Kim K strutting around looking hotter than ever in her bikini (suck on that, Reggie). Or go get a weave like I did!

Let’s take a look at some of the biggest offenders:

What the f*#%? What happened to this little cutie?

I mean, I can’t vouch for that belly chain, but you get what I’m saying.  Let’s go ahead and reel it back in. How about getting some of your girliness back? Remember when you were so hot and feminine that people were hypothesizing that Beyonce was getting nervous? Yeah, let’s get that RiRi back before we have to send you to fashion rehab.

Sending my love.

xx,

WhyDid