Cupcake Monster, Bluffin’ With Her Muffin

Did I say monster? As in, I love cupcakes, and I’m going to be one of GaGa’s little monsters on Dec. 27?! Yesssss. Because I’ve never seen one like that before, and I’ll eat your heart! You love this girl. Bluffin’ with her muffin, er cupcake!

Raspberry balsamic dark chocolate.

These cupcakes are a modern marvel. I’ve never made anything this beautiful before. Almost everything I make has to be carefully positioned for photographs because there’s a highly flawed side, a burnt side, something.

Cupcake nirvana. (Show me your teeth!) May I again sing the praises of mixing balsamic vinegar with fruit? Tastes just like glitter mixed with rock ‘n’ roll. Don’t be scared. I’ve done this before, with apples.

Journalism betrayal

So what is one to do?

To be in this profession you have to clearly draw a line between personal and professional. Some people just don’t get it. They don’t get that your personal life is off the record. The little insider quips you deliver at parties or even hanging out in the newsroom are not to be passed on to every hungry blogger or starving writer.

And then it happens. Indirectly, you’re part of the life-crushing engine. You’re part of it every day, but sometimes it’s just personal. Sometimes you don’t have to be part of every story. As a journalist, I feel that I’m allowed to have allies. There was no way I was going to have anything to do with this particular story, but now I feel like I’ve betrayed a close friend when I said I wouldn’t.

And if you think about it, you’ve got those inside interests too. Would you tell the rival paper about the photo editor’s DUI? Not that they’d care, but would you? Is that a nice thing to do? Just because we practice journalism, doesn’t mean we have to sell out everyone. We choose what to cover knowing our biases and our conflicts, passing on the other stuff to somebody else. And at what cost does all this come? Is it OK to sell out a best friend so some blogger you have never met and who does not care about you will mention your screen name on her blog?

I’m just ashamed to have given a friend my vote of confidence to later have myself indirectly associated with the story. Ashamed and humiliated. Good, bloodthirsty reporting.

Listening: iPod on Shuffle (is love – “Wannabe” – Spice Girls, “Nineteen” Tegan and Sara)
Assignments: worrying about cultural tourism/como/blues/food story

Sex and Journalism

Just kidding, sorta. I did once joke that Aspen and I will become the Rigsby sisters when we’re in our late 20s.

But, why is it that I get hit on so much while on assignment? Does everyone get hit on this much and just not think much of it? I mean, it’s sorta cute, until you have to dodge a sloppy kiss from some much older man who just accused you of trying to write a story about “black people,” when his friends (black and white) seem very OK with the fact that you’re about to eat soul food with them.

So today, I was overtly hit on by two guys, one who asked for my phone number and another who tried to kiss me after asking if I “go around with men.”

In Charleston, an artist (a really neat guy too) got sexual during an interview (hinted at doing more than just getting in trouble up on the old bridge … ) and then tried to invite me out for hot dogs.

In Nashville, a homeless guy wanted to go back to the hotel room with Natalie and me. We pretended an adviser was sleeping in our hotel room.

I know there have been countless other times. Do I just look easy? Is it too irresistible to make me blush? What am I supposed to do? I don’t really mind, seeing that I can hold my own but usually play sweet to get better interviews.

Last listen: Joan Baez
Reading: The Provincials (for class)
Assignment: Como, Miss., blues/food