Monthly Archives: December 2009

Happy New Year, Mother Druckers!

Zippity zop a doo wop a ziggity zee.

Per the awesome e-card that pal Bri just sent me (courtesy of the hi-LAR-ious, it may be the antidepressants talking, but I’m feeling somewhat optimistic about 2010! Let’s see, things to be grateful about, in no particular order:

1. TROMBONE SHORTY AT THE INDEPENDENT TONIGHT! And an open bar with (one would assume) free-flowing vodka. If you haven’t heard of this band, please, for the love of druck, check them out.

2. Being blessed by fate, circumstance and whatever higher power you believe in, with the best network of friends and family a Mother Drucker could ever hope to ask for. (If you’re reading this, this means YOU.) I am more humbled by the love I’ve been given in this life than mere words could ever describe.

3. And while I’m at it, a shout-out to the good ol’ US of A. Warts and all, being born here is like winning the lottery. And if you don’t believe that, just ask an immigrant. Right Grandma Faye?

4. My job and my health.

5. Robert Downey Jr.

6. That Northwestern will either A. win or B. not embarrass ourselves at the Outback Bowl January 1. GO CATS!

7. The hope, however dim, that the Chicago Bears will replace Lovie Smith in the off-season.

That’s all for now! Wishing you and yours a very happy, healthy and harmonious 2010. See you next year!



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Sherlock Holmes Is One Bad Mother Drucker

Hello, delicious.

Is it me, or does Robert Downey Jr. even BREATHE sexy? I love how he wears his fame so indifferently, like it’s just one of the many suits in his closet. As famous as he is, he still reminds me of a freshman theater major, wide-eyed with giddy disbelief, “Can you believe we get CREDIT for this?!” (Holla to my fellow NU drama mamas, like the DIVINE Ms. M.)

I saw RDJ in person once in the backseat of a car, at the corner of Wilshire/Sepulveda in Westwood. (I was glad to see he had a driver. Just say no to DUIs, right Lohan?) He rolled down the window, handed a homeless dude a fat wad of cash, nodded and drove off. Generous. Anonymous. GORGEOUS.

See kids? The 80s weren't all bad. Okay, that jacket is bad. But still.

But let’s talk Sherlock Holmes. I liked it! Pal Adra and I had a whale of a time. It’s Sherlock Holmes, re-imagined as a Ninja, and aptly directed by a master of British movies wherein people beat each other to a bloody pulp, Guy Ritchie. I thought the NYT reviewer was right to say it feels like an extended teaser for the sequel. But those 134 minutes FLEW by and I was glued to my seat, in spite of a serious need to pee for the last 40 minutes or so. (TMI? Too druckin bad.)

Even Jude Law was utterly charming, in spite of recent appearances to the contrary. And now, thanks to Holmes, I feel compelled to be more observant. (Though you claim to be single, the blonde hair on your jacket tells me you either have a girlfriend or a golden retriever. But golden retrievers rarely wear Chanel #5… Case closed.)


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The Bears Still Druck

Put your arms up! I didn't say Simon says. Now GET THE DRUCK OUTTA CHICAGO.

There were so MANY disgusting moments during last night’s game that it’s hard to pick just one, but I can do it. It’s when the announcer said, “See? Lovie Smith coaches effort.” WHAT THE DRUCK?! Have you been ASLEEP all season, sir?

Thanks old man Favre, for making Lovie look good. THANKS A LOT.

FAVRE: Hey man, you’re from here, right?
CUTLER: Actually I’m from Santa Claus, Indiana.
FAVRE: What’s that? Speak up, sonny. Don’t hear as good as I useta.
CUTLER: Never mind.
FAVRE: Damn I’m cold. What say you go scare me up a triple Venti nonfat Creme Brulée latte with extra whip? There’s gotta be a Starbucks somewhere near this toilet bowl of a stadium. Be a good boy. Here’s a quarter.
FAVRE: Listen, pipsqueak. I’ve been in this league for 19 years to your four. So don’t go getting too big for your baby Bear britches. I crap biggern’ you.

And then, there was this:

This pic is titled tillmanouchie. Don't think I can improve it.

NOOOOOO. Not Peanut! By far, the worst thing that’s happened in a wasted season — Charles Tillman writhing in agony on the field, unable even to raise a thumbs-up sign for the fans. Blah blah Urlacher, Hester and Knox. Tillman plays with HEART. Dear Peanut, I hope your broken ribs heal quickly and that your team works hard to be worthy of your unselfish efforts next season.

And last but not least — you’re welcome, New Orleans!

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Is That Will Ferrell? What the Druck?

Will Ferrell does wedding announcements! If I only had a groom...

Thanks to awesome new friend Ava, I was alerted to this fantastic New York Times wedding announcement. How great is that?! After a thwarted attempt to watch Elf this weekend (the DVD player wasn’t working), I feel comforted by Farrell’s sweet, oblivious expression in this picture. Like, ‘Oh, are we taking pictures now? I LOVE pictures! CHEEEEEEEESE.’

"We elves try to stick to the four main food groups: candy, candy canes, candy corns and syrup."

In other news, the Bears play the Vikings tonight in what promises to be one of the more disappointing Monday Night Football contests of the year. Last night on Sportscenter, ESPN tried to polish this pig by talking up the Vikes without a mention of Chicago, as if it would be better for all concerned if the Bears weren’t even there and the Vikes could just scrimmage, Favre’s team against Childers team. (Winner gets to coach the playoffs.)

At the end of the segment, they finally felt compelled to mention the Bears. And what did they say? “…Chicago, who just isn’t playing good football this year.” Can I get an amen?


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Merry Christmas, Mother Druckers!

Martha, Martha, Martha.

Oy. I have been baking coconut cake all morning, and dealing with the cable guys, bless them. My Thai coconut milk was curdled! (Didn’t know coconut milk could do that.) It smelled sour and dangerous. Kinda like Rush Limbaugh. (Where are the Republicans hiding him, anyway? Keeping him in a cave somewhere on a steady diet of orphans and propofol?)

But anyhoodle, I’m baking cake for Christmas with the Druckers, West. (Represent.) It’s a Bobby Flay recipe, but (shhh) I use boxed cake mix, and Ina Garten frosting. So here’s hoping it all stacks up!

Tonight is ‘Love, Actually,’ Christmas cookies and Chinese take-out with awesome pals Ari and Adra (yes, I have a thing for A-named gals) and hopefully, Christelle. All is right with the world.

Merry Christmas, y’all! Challah atcha Monday. MWAH!


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Druckin Dictators & Cuban Food in Culver City

Trip to Havana, $600. Sandwich, $7. Sneaking in under the radar, priceless.

I’ve learned something about Cuban sandwiches — they aren’t photogenic. In person, the combo of melted swiss cheese, succulent roast pork, ham, pickles and mustard on crusty golden bread is irresistible. But in pictures, it doesn’t make you wanna mambo.

Went to Versailles in Culver City last night with awesome pal Tom, and my review is mixed. They want you in and outta there faster than you can say platanos maduros. (Sweet plaintains.) The bare-bones, cafeteria-like atmosphere is lively in that the waiters are in a hurry and it’s LOUD. Everything — the food, the plates, your dining companion — is in soft-focus due to an omnipresent film of grease. The aforementioned plantains were mushy and bland.

Fidel joke #1: If your potato is uncooperative, is it a dictator?

But oh, the sandwich. Paradise for pork-lovers. Priced at a mere $7.95 and served with a mountain of crisp, perfectly-seasoned fries, it’s a meal fit for the dickiest of dictators. (Fidel joke #2.)

Guess I like my sandwiches like my men, greasy, rich and bad for me! (Okay okay, so I haven’t done so well in the ‘rich’ department. But I’ve more than made up for it in the ‘bad for me’ category!) Why can’t I crave a nice kale sandwich, or a broccoli burger?

I think my next date with the sandwich will be take-out. We want to be alone. Hasta manana, amigos!

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Good Druckin Gift Ideas

Got my mind on my burger and my burger on my mind.

Since I stayed in and watched TV last night instead of going out, I’m rounding up a few Mother Drucker gift ideas for you last-minute shoppers. See above. Looks like a cheeseburger, tastes like a WALLET. Don’t ask me how I know this.

Bangle her? I hardly know her.

This bangle from Nicole Richie’s House of Harlow label is gorgeous, on-trend and reasonable priced at around $70. Belle Gray has them in a plethora of pretty colors, but the red one is FESTIVE. Right Tranny Claus?

Coffee, tea or me?

One of the best compliments I ever got was when I made a cuppa for my British boyfriend’s mum. She took a sip, raised her eyebrows and said with surprise, “I dare say the Yank makes a decent cup of tea.” (!!!) This colour-coded “My Cuppa Tea” mug from makes it easy to measure the perfect splash of milk.

And finally, because I’m a vodka girl and Santa’s an enabler:

So easy to use, even a drunk person could do it.

Look at this! It’s the drinking girl’s equivalent of a Red Ryder carbine-action 200-shot range model air rifle. It’s the Arta Brio Cocktail Shaker with integrated strainer, jigger and a volume of 20-ounce, in stainless steel so it won’t break when you drop it. (And after a few martinis, you WILL drop it.) I’m sure there are similar models out there, but I love the pretty turquoise top.

Happy shopping, little Druckers!

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