Hermaphrodite Literature

My last post gave off the impression (to me, at least) that the recommendation that I read Middlesex was a head-scratcher. That is not the case. Novels penned by Jeffrey Eugenides are worth reading simply because he is such an all-around talented writer. When combined, his words, as those of good writers do, reach into the innermost part of their readers and violently yank out emotions. Equipped with literary prowess, when Eugenides decides that he wants his reader to feel something, they FEEL it, and are powerless to stop the catharsis.

His personification of a fire engulfing a town in flames stuck in my mind superglue style. "...the fire dodges him and races up into the house. From there it sweeps across an Oriental rug, marches out to the  back porch, leaps nimbly up onto a laundry line, and tightrope-walks across to the house behind. It climbs in the window and pauses, as if shocked by its good fortune: because everything in the house it just made to burn..." (Eugenides, 56).

Before reading this passage, I thought that the only fire capable of marching, leaping, tightrope-walking and climbing was Calcifer from one of my favorite movies, Howl's Moving Castle.

My favorite personified fire

So...Middlesex is about a hermaphrodite. The story of his/her life, told by Cal (formerly Callie), begins two generations before him with the history of his grandparents' journey from Greece to Detroit. He tells the sequence of events from the first person omniscient (for those of you who dozed off in high school language arts, that means that Cal is the narrator and knows everything, even events he was not present to witness). This may not sound like a unique element of the plot, but he does so in an interesting way. At points, Cal observes the relationships of his family from his perspective as an egg inside his mother's ovary. How clever is that?

So, what is the story? How did Cal, formerly Callie, end up this way? Well, that IS the story, and I don't want to spoil hours of fun reading for all of you, so I will keep my summary as just the tip of the iceberg. Simply put, there is more scandal and drama in Cal's parent's and grandparent's relationships than there is in the Kardashian family. Cal pairs the chronicling his own family's immigration and formation in Detroit with the corresponding events in Greece and the United States, which gives the novel a historic element.

There are scenes in Middlesex that are uncomfortable to read. As I mentioned in my previous post, I personally did not find reading about a hermaphrodite right before bed to be particularly conducive to a good night's sleep. It is dense and demanding, but if those two alliterative adjectives don't frighten you, feel free to take this novel head on. It is undeniably quality writing, but not what to read if you are looking for quick and light writing. 

OMG, You NEED To Read That Book!

Over the past couple of weeks, there were two books vying for my undying attention, and I found a way to coddle both of their over-inflated literary egos. The first book is what I refer to as an obligation book: the boasting of its cover that it won a Pulitzer Prize and is part of the Oprah book club along with and my friend's constant, almost nagging recommendation of it make me feel that it is a necessary read. However, whenever a book is labeled as such in my mind, I instantly find that reading it becomes just another task on my to do list, and whether it is enjoyable or not, it becomes a chore.

I can still see some of you scratching your heads, befuddled and wondering what on God's green earth I am going on about, thinking "that crazy Marisa! There's no section titled 'Obligation Literature' at MY local Barnes & Noble!". First of all, you are wrong- that section just goes by a different name- "Required Reading by High Schools" or, "Book Club Reading" (although the second one is arguably a self-imposed requirement, since book club members join of their own accord, unless it is some kind of book club cult). Even the "Our Staff Recommends..." section somehow seems more obligatory than merely suggestive. Like a challenge almost; bet you can't read all the books we read!

There are two subcategories of obligation books: friend/relative-imposed obligation books and society-imposed obligation books (indicated in one way by the Oprah book club sticker). The first is rather dreaded and exactly what happened to me with my most recent read, Middlesex. Wow, it just took me two entire paragraphs to get to the name of book one of the two vying for my attention. I can't even imagine how much longer you will be sitting here waiting for me to mention the second.

You CAN'T ignore that "winner of the Pulitzer Prize" sticker!

I got myself into the obligation completely- I recognize my culpability. One day, while enjoying coffee with my friend, I mentioned how much I enjoyed reading The Marriage Plot by Jeffery Eugenides. My friend perked up (more than she already had from the caffeine) and said "ooh! You need to read his other book, Middlesex!" There it was: that dreaded "you need to read..." comment. I figuratively rolled my eyes, thinking, "please stop adding books to my reading list" but saying with mock enthusiasm "yeah, totally!"

Unfortunately, hers was not the only "you NEED to read..." comment pertaining to Middlesex. I can often shrug off such comments if there is only one. However, when I brought up my recent read in my acupuncture appointment, my acupuncturist recited the exact same words! "You NEED to read his other book..." I eyed her suspiciously after she said that, wondering if she and my coffee-drinking friend were in cahoots and plotting to ensnare me in the pages of an overly-engrossing novel. Whether they were or it was purely coincidental, ensnared I was. If you haven't read Middlesex, first of all OMG you HAVE to read it (ha! Gotchya! Have fun obligation reading for the next few weeks!). It is about a hermaphrodite and his/her  upbringing and life challenges. This made for dense and disturbing reading material that messed with my mind on a number of levels. The sequence of events triggered by once I finished the first page ended up reflecting those from the kid's book If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. If you give Marisa a book about a hermaphrodite, she will look up "hermaphrodite" online from sheer curiosity. If she looks up "hermaphrodite" online, she will see disturbing images of genitals. If she sees disturbing images of genitals, she will not be able to fall asleep as they will come to the forefront of her mind right as she is trying to settle down. Okay, maybe not the best sequence of events for a kids book.

Here is where book two of the two books vying for my attention comes in: remember how, in a previous post, I said that Mindy Kaling's book tucked me in better than a Swiss au pere (I think Swiss was what I went with, I'm too lazy to check)? Well, it just so happens that so does B.J. Novak's (also an actor/writer from The Office) new collection of hilarious short stories. So, my method became: read Middlesex for as long as possible until I became mentally troubled, then read one or two short stories to lull myself to sleep. This worked like a charm!

Well, I would go into my reviews of the two books, but this post has already morphed into a tome, and I want to give you eyes a brains a reading break. Peace. 

Fund My Trip, Please!

The kind of family I will be helping in India

I can't wait to take care of these cute little rascals!

For those of you who thought I was embarking on my upcoming philanthropic venture for free, think again! I do incur volunteer fees to pay for my food and housing while dedicating my time to caring for the children of Tibetan refugees in Bir, India. If you would like to donate five cents, ten cents, a dollar, ten dollars, or any amount, please visit my volunteer page: http://www.gofundme.com/5win9c.

If you simply want to wish me well on my journey, that means a good deal to me as well! Keep coming back for posts of my time helping out in India!

One of my buddies from the nursing home where I volunteered in Costa Rica!

Feral Dogs and Socks

"Cool! My wife had a great time there!"
"Delhi is the most chaotic city!"
"Wow, you're going to love it, Bir is like Heaven on Earth!"
"I'm not going to tell you about what it's like- I want you to form your own impressions."

The responses to the news that I am traveling to India in March range widely. Some people provide me with tips on things that I would have never thought of. Here are just a few of these nuggets of wisdom:

1) Wear socks at all times- one man told me upon hearing of my upcoming trip that when his wife visited Delhi, she wore sandals that she generally had to remove when going inside and returned with a gnarly foot fungus (gnarly being an adjective I added for embellishment's sake). Good thing I possess a pair of foldable flats that I can stick right into my purse for wearing inside!

2) Eat with your right hand- since Indians generally forgo silverware and eat with their hands, it is good to know the stigma attached to eating with your left one. To put it nicely, your left hand is reserved for *ahem* bathroom duties. Speaking of bathroom duties, this brings me to my next tip...

If Oprah can eat with her hands, so can I!

3) Bring oodles of toilet paper- I guess Charmin, Angel Soft, and every other TP brand has skipped over the  Indian market since its consumers do not use toilet paper. Seriously. Wow, the comforts of home I will miss..

4) Make sure you are up-to-date on your rabies vaccine- the guy whose wife contracted a foot fungus also got bitten by a feral dog. She must have just had the best trip. Traveling in Costa Rica made me accustomed to stray animals, but none of them appeared rabid, so this will be a new experience.

Beware of Hypnotists and Typhoid Shots

Since I've been using my funds allocated to my literary budget to buy books written by comedians, I spent a good chunk of time the other day being "that person" reading a travel guide in a store with no intention of buying it. The most jarring fact I learned about things to be wary of as a traveler in India is a scheme involving hypnosis and mind-reading. Yes, seriously. Lonely Planet would not lie to me. In the section dedicated to pointing out schemes designed to rip off tourists, the first few seemed believable and obvious- people telling you that your train tickets are invalid and trying to get your money to buy a "valid" one, people trying to get you to donate to fake charities, etc. The third, written in a shockingly nonchalant tone by the author, sounded like something out of a work of fiction.

According to the author, this "hypnosis scheme" occurs frequently and involves a conman wearing a turban approaching an unsuspecting tourist with a photo of a group of people. He then asks the tourist to focus on one individual in the photographed group for a designated period of time, then accurately guesses who the tourist was thinking of, and then guesses his or her favorite color and recites details about his or her parents that there seems to be no way the "mind reader" could possibly know. Then, in the tourist's "hypnotized state", he or she accompanies the scammer to an ATM and donates a ton of money to him. That is what I have to worry about in India?! Seriously?

Another important preparation I had to make was a trip to the doctor to get vaccines and travel meds. As a person who faints at even the sight of a needle used in a medical context (or a shooting-up drugs context, somehow I can handle sewing needles), I try to avoid any and all unnecessary vaccines. Therefore, when I read in my volunteering in India packet that there were no vaccinations legally required for entry to India, I instantly initiated my happy dance (not something I do in public). However, I read further that vaccinations are "recommended" for a lengthy list of illnesses including but not limited to diphtheria, typhoid, hepatitis A and Japanese Encephalitis. I decided to investigate whether the symptoms of these aforementioned ailments outweighed my fear of needles. The first illness I read about was typhoid. Below is the EXACT passage I read from the International Travel & Health Vaccination Clinic website: 

"Typhoid fever symptoms usually appear over the course of a month, beginning with fatigue, dull headache, intermittent fever, abdominal pain (typically in the lower-right portion), and, at times, constipation. At the end of the first week of infection, dark red "rose spots" appear on the outer portion of the upper abdomen and the lower chest. As the illness progresses, fever becomes continuous, an unproductive cough may develop, and the infected person experiences lassitude, disorientation, and sometimes delirium. As the person's condition worsens, "pea soup" diarrhea may appear. Coma may occur, as well as intestinal bleeding. Fever and symptoms gradually recede over the fourth week."

Umm... WHAT? Coma MAY occur?? How downplayed can they make going into a COMA?? By continuing on to say that yes, you may go into an almost vegetative state, but then you get better. Seriously? After reading that, I decided a little needle prick in the shoulder was far preferrable to "pea soup diarrhea" and a potential coma. I think I chose wisely. Upon further consultation with my doctor, I decided to forgo the Japanese Encephalitis vaccine (just watch that be the one illness I contract while abroad) and stick to typhoid and hepatitis A shots and pills for malaria prevention. I just so happened to be up to date on all the other recommended vaccines. Just a word of warning for anyone else who happens to need a typhoid vaccination- that thing hurts like nobody's business (unless their business is some sort of intentional torture-infliction). I'm not even being dramatic. 

Well, there shall be many more posts to come as I prepare for my trip, so stay tuned!

Yeah, I'm not really looking to turn into Typhoid Mary here...

Patience Pays Off

Let this be a lesson to all you foot-tapping, line hating, obsessively watch-checking Impatient Ians out there (or Impatient Irenes, I guess I should hold off on the sexist language- wouldn't want to offend the feminists. On that note, I probably have to include more ethnically diverse names like Inez... it is so hard to be politically correct these days). Being in no hurry whatsoever makes life a whole lot nicer. Because anecdote-sharing is what I do to convey a point, I will use a recent trip to my beloved Target to explain to you all, Aesop-fable style, why patience truly is a virtue.

Around noon, while en route to lunch with my parents, I popped into the Target pharmacy and dropped off a prescription that they informed me would be ready in an hour, at 1 (in case you all didn't know that an hour after noon was 1... okay fine, 13:00 military time). He apologized for the abnormally long wait time and I flashed an understanding smile and told him it was fine and I'd be back after lunch (as if he were one iota interested in my post-prescription drop off plans). Anyway, lunch happened, but I need not go into details about the meal as the events that occurred at the restaurant have absolutely no relation to the main purpose of the story.

When I returned to Target, the pharmacists' expressions coupled with the length of the line rivaling those at Disneyland rides indicated that they were running a bit behind. My patient personality along with being in no rush whatsoever made this no big deal for me. When my turn finally arrived, the pharmacist informed me, as I expected she would, that things were taking a bit longer than normal. Her expression then distorted into one that indicated she was bracing herself for yet another angry reaction, but I just shrugged and told her I'd come back. By the time I returned a few minutes later, they still needed more time, and I must have still appeared intimidating despite my extremely passive former reactions because the pharmacist took me aside, apologized as though she had just backed over my pet cat with her Hummer, and handed me multiple coupons for $3 off my next purchase. In all honesty, they probably should have saved this monetary method of begging for forgiveness for one of the many irate customers behind me, but hey, I'll take it!

Ummmm it'll be about five more minutes!?!?

So I just scored the equivalent of a gift card to my favorite store, and it doesn't end there. When they thought they finally had my prescriptions ready, it turned out that they overlooked one that my doctor had faxed in, so Heaven forbid, I had to wait a whole five minutes more. No big deal for me, but they still had this idea that my patience was about to reach the breaking point. Therefore, they waived my medication co-pays. Awesome.

Hustle Me, Batman

I like being hustled as long as it is by an overweight Christian Bale (a.k.a Batman, if you didn't get the title reference) with an atrocious combover and a particularly foxy-looking Amy Adams. American Hustle's nomination for best picture was a head-scratcher for me, but if Jennifer Lawrence hadn't been nominated for best supporting actress I would have sat there ripping my hair out and stomping around like a four-year-old throwing a massive tantrum. Though she appeared a bit too youthful to play the part of the disgruntled and manipulative housewife and mother, she pulled it off perfectly, making audiences (or at least me) want rip my way though the silver screen and slug her in the face to prevent any future misery caused by her selfishness and ignorance.

The acting was more stellar than the Big Dipper and the little one combined. Amy Adams, who I truly don't understand how she has to much time to dedicate to such a wide variety of films, did a great job and, male viewers will be pleased to know, didn't wear much the entire running time. Bradley Cooper has come a long way since his days in The Hangover (actually, he just recently participated in a horrendous third installment in the series, but at least the quality films in which he is acting simultaneously partially make up for that atrocity). If he hadn't already proven his on-screen skills in Silver Lining's Playbook, his appearance in American Hustle would have.

Ick- she just look likes a catty b****

Quick plot summary: Irving Rosenfeld (Bale) and his main squeeze Sydney Prosser (Adams) spend their time conning the desperate with various schemes until FBI agent Richie DiMaso catches them and forces them to help him catch a corrupt politician in exchange for DiMasso not to press charges. Their highly sensitive operation is going swimmingly until Rosenfeld's nosy and obnoxious wife (Lawrence) threatens to expose the whole thing with her unintentional involvement. As previously mentioned, the wife is just awful in every way. She accidentally sets the house on fire multiple times, is a negligent mother, and threatens Rosenfeld whenever he mentions the divorce he and Prosser desperately want. Thus, she is the most entertaining character by a long shot.

Wow, Christian- you really let yourself go...

For me, the take away of this movie is that the acting is beyond superb (super superb?), it makes you wish you lived in New York in the 60s, and the plot keeps you entertained as long as you can actually follow it. The complexities in the plot in which important twists and turns happen at break neck speeds reminded me of Tinker, Tailer, Soldier, Spy. That movie just flew right over my head, despite my desperate attempts to understand the details. Yes, the actors nominated for their roles in American Hustle deserved their nominations. Especially Christian Bale just for sporting that horrific comb-over and gaining so much weight (the weight gain seemed to work for Charleze Theron in Monster). I do hope, however, that it does not take home the Best Picture prize. I have yet to be impressed by a nominated film to feel it is deserving.

Let's Go Skinny Dipping

Most authors must work hard to secure a spot on my list of beloved writers by showcasing their talents in at least two or three fantastic pieces of profound and captivating literature. Or, they can circumvent these criteria by writing something hilarious that quickly sets me of on a laughing fit so extreme that those around me would confuse it with a seizure, potentially leading to an unnecessary 9-1-1 call (and we know how the dispatchers LOVE those). Upon their arrival, I would be forced to awkwardly explain my inability to contain my reactions to good comedy writing. Okay, enough of that over the top scenario...

As I mentioned in a previous post, this looks more like an erotic adult novel. Don't be fooled. 

Using some kind of writing wizardry, Carl Hiaasen managed to bypass both criteria with his novel Skinny Dip. Yes, it is funny, but not the aforementioned, fit-inducing hilarity. It falls into the category of smart humor that makes you laugh like a buffoon in your mind while emitting only a reasonable, quiet chuckle. Sometimes the mere ridiculous nature of the plot is enough to make a smile spread across the reader's face.

Carl Hiaasen just emanates "funny guy"- I wouldn't mind hanging out with him!

Personally, I lack the patience to sit through seemingly endless introductions spanning multiple chapters while eagerly awaiting the start of the action. That is quite simply a waste of my oh-so-precious time. So when the first page of Hiaasen's novel transported me to the middle of the ocean where a woman was struggling to surface after being pushed off a cruise ship by her husband, my literary hunger was satiated. The rest of the novel chronicles Joey Perrone's (the woman pushed overboard) rescue by island-dweller Mick Stranahan and their subsequent plan to mess with her womanizing, scum-bag of a husband Chaz until he goes bat-sh** crazy. Chaz's personality is almost unbelievably atrocious at times. One shining example is his attempts to apologize to his mistress that he shot in the leg after she finds out about how he killed his wife. He begs and pleads like a helpless child, saying "Come on baby, I was crazy in the head!"


Hiaasen's talent in writing shines through most notably in the characters his words create. One such example is the bodyguard of his protagonist's slimy husband, a large, hairy, ape-like, alligator-eating fentanyl addict nicknamed Tool. Tool has done some bad things in life including stealing fentanyl from cancer patients. One such patient, Maureen, assists him during the course of the novel and convinces him to change his ways. One reason Hiaasen is such a successful character writer is that he incorporates their thoughts and unique speaking styles into his novel. It is exceptionally easy to imagine exactly how Tool speaks in lines of dialogue like in the following passage: "Tool gestured at the wooden cross. 'Least he was a 'husband, father, son, brother'- I ain't none a those things, Red. I got no wife and no family...one lousy cousin, he's up at Starke for robbin' a (expletive removed) laundry-mat." Laundry-mat!? That is genius!

I loved this book so much that I actually BOUGHT another one by Hiaasen: Sick Puppy. I already love it based on the title and cover. Yes, I judge books by their covers. Stay tuned for that review in a few weeks (it is in a queue of about six books).

Hogwarts Peanut Butter Cookies

First, a legal disclaimer: I did not ask J.K. Rowling if I could use the name of her famous school of witchcraft and wizardry. Shockingly, I think she has more pertinent issues to concern herself with than a rarely-visited blog using the name of her imaginary school. Just a wild guess. The reason I titled this recipe as such is because I cannot come up with anything other than witchcraft and wizardry to explain how these peanut butter cookies do not fall apart, considering there is no flour in them. I contest that some Hogwarts professor or kitchen employee created this recipe that I just happened to come across. Please enjoy this easy recipe for gluten and dairy-free peanut butter cookies!

Hogwarts Peanut Butter Cookies

Ingredients:
-2 cups peanut butter
-1 cup packed brown sugar (can anyone think of a single recipe that calls for brown sugar that isn't packed?)
-1 cup white sugar
-2 eggs
-2 tsp. baking soda

Instructions:
1) Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (if it were celcius I would be concerned)
2) Mix everything together and beat until well-combined
3) Drop little spoons of dough onto cookie sheet and create a crisscross pattern with a fork
4) Bake for about 8-10 minutes
5) Enjoy!

My Recent Breakup

Alright, boys n' girls- I am breaking up with Bell Pepper. After much deliberation, I have decided to put an end to my abusive relationship with the obnoxious vegetable once and for all. I have spent far too much time trying to love something I simply did not, and that was not fair neither to me nor bell peppers. Now that I am free from Bell Pepper's repressive hold, I can freely speak my mind. The vegetable is needy, clingy, high-maintenance- however you want to phrase it. Every recipe it sneaks its way into requires that it "have its seeds removed and de-membraned". Gross. I hereby declare that no one should eat things with membranes. Okay wait, I guess my new-found pepper hatred is directed only towards sweet bell peppers, jalapenos and other hot peppers are exceptions. I will continue occasionally dating the spicy peppers despite my being disgusted by their membranes- at least they have something to offer in the relationship.

Just the sight of these makes me gag

Don't worry, Hot Peppers- we can still go out

Yes, I'm sorry to disappoint our adoring fans, but this celebrity couple, Marisa and Bell Pepper, are truly through. Caput. Terminado. Past the point of no return. Insert cliche phrase pertaining to a relationship's end here. Bell Pepper may as well go buy a pint or two of Ben & Jerry's and scarf it down while listening to Bonnie Raitt's "I Can't Make You Love Me" and watching Bridget Jones' Diary (or some emotional drama screening on Oxygen). It can try to win back my affections by changing colors but to no avail. I don't care about the vibrant yellow of your skin, Bell Pepper! I know you still taste just as nasty as your green version in my salad, and I have no intention of dedicating one second to removing your membrane. That is repulsive.

It is time I dedicate my efforts to my other relationships with vegetables. Beet, my underrated lover, craves my attention and I plan to make our love a priority. Same goes for Brussels Sprouts and Kale. Kale and I used to spend every waking moment together and I admit that I have been slacking on my end of the relationship. I'm so sorry, my abused veggie loves! I should never have tried so hard to love Bell Pepper! 

My Favorite Things

Don't worry, I am not about to launch into verse after verse about cream-colored ponies and crisp apple strudels while twirling around in a snow-capped mountain range, nor am I about to morph into a talk show host raving about the latest bath soap that doubles as dessert and that just so happens to be in the goody bags beneath the seats of every audience member. That was a reference to Oprah's yearly "Favorite Things" show, if you didn't get that. As is the case with the majority of the female gender, the following list of things I love is subject to change with any emotional whim. Except number 7. My Indian food love is unconditional and forever binding. Til death do we part (actually I sure hope there is Indian food to enjoy in Heaven).

1) Ed Sheeran- this young man's silky smooth voice with a notable English accent must be laced with some sort of Disney-esque fairy tale spell that causes my knees to weaken whenever my ears behold it. No matter how heightened my anxieties, they are instantly lessened by listening to Ed. It doesn't even matter what he is singing about- young, desperate women addicted to cocaine ("A-Team"), or falling madly in love (basically all of his other songs). Just as icing on the cake, he is an adorable ginger, collaborates with Taylor Swift, plays the same guitar as me, and wrote the song for the ending credits in most recent installment of The Hobbit.Can a musician get any better? Not in my book.

Ed, you are amazing

2) White boy Reggae- I like the traditional stuff as well, but there is something charming about this offshoot of the genre. If you have never heard of white boy reggae, well, that makes me sad, but I'm not surprised. Actually, I bet a lot of you have heard it and never realized- it is comprised of bands like Slightly Stoopid and Rebelution. I find it ceaselessly entertaining to listen to a group of Caucasian men trying to emulate the African-American vocal rhythm while singing in the simplest way that everything is going to be just dandy if we hug and love each other. Click here to listen to a perfect example if you still have no clue what I am talking about.
3) Soy lattes topped with cinnamon- call me a supporter of evil corporations crushing the "little guy", but my favorites generally come from Starbucks. Their lightly-sweetened vanilla soy milk creates the perfect latte texture (probably from some sort of additive that only evil corporations would add).
4) Not-so-serious murder mysteries- I have issues stomaching the traditional, dark murder mystery about a crazed serial killer scooping out the eyes of corpses with melon ballers and removing their fingernails. Wow, that was a messed up thing to even write. I am happy to say that my mind was not twisted enough to come up with that- April said it on the show Parks & Recreation. No, I prefer "fluffy" narratives that still keep you hooked like Skinny Dip and Gone with a Handsomer Man.

A cover like this isn't going to keep the reader up at night

This cover looks more like it would be for an erotic, adult novel. Also, I just discovered how many
horrifying images come up when you do a Google image search for "skinny dip"

5) Books by comedians- speaking of my favorite things to read, this literary genre and the fluffy mysteries are currently battling for my affections. I never realized until I read Mindy Kaling's book, Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) just how fantastic comedians turned authors can  be at writing. They also resonate a genuine aura making me want to shell out money on full-priced, physical versions of their books (as opposed to illegal PDF downloads, not that I would ever do that...) because I want to support them. No one deserves my money more than those who can make me break out in a gut-busting laughing fit.
6) Unreasonably long showers- this love of mine could also be listed as the sole item under "Marisa's character flaws". Unfortunately for potential employers interrogating me during a job interview, this is the only answer I can come up with for the dreaded "in what areas can you still improve?" question. I adore standing for insane amounts of time under a scorching hot stream of water. No better way to wake up in the morning except the French Cafe Pandora station (see number 8 on this list), or to refresh from a workout.
7) Indian food- from Chana Masala to chicken Vindaloo and every dish in between, this breed of ethnic food sits alone and unchallenged on a gluttonous pedestal in my heart. My one beef with Indian/Nepalese/Tibetan restaurants is the inconsistency with their spice levels. All owners of these establishments should attend a conference to decide a standard. At one restaurant, I will request "the spiciest possible" and the waiter scoffs, clearly thinking "yeah, this crazy white girl wishes she could handle that!" and brings me the most mild Aloo Gobi I have ever tasted. Then at my next dinner out, the same request will bring a Daal soup that singes my taste buds to a crisp.

This is making me drool like an animal 

8) The French Cafe Pandora station in the morning- yes, this love of mine is overly specific, like a graduate student studying 16th century Buddhism in Normandy, France (that guy isn't getting a job anytime soon, I hope his debt is not too astronomical). However, if you ever experience sluggish mornings, you will find this station a better cure than a caffeine-amphetamine cocktail pumped into you intravenously.
9) The Sunday paper- speaking of morning rituals, what is a Sunday morning with no newspaper? Yes, I realize that print media is antiquated, but I simply couldn't give more of a rat's ass (pardon my crass language). Some may argue that newspapers on tablets are just as good, but there is something charming about the way the weekend ads spill clumsily out of the enormous bundle of printed articles covering topics from serious, world news to light celebrity gossip. Plus, who doesn't LOVE reading Parade magazine?? They did not even have to pay me to write that glowing endorsement.

And thus concludes my list of favorite things. For this week, anyway.