I ended up buying 5 pounds of apples.

When I got home, I decided it was time to put all my energy to good use and bake a pie. I turned up loud, energetic music and started up the oven. As a semi-professional cook, making delicious things was always a kind of therapy, and was a way to channel my emotions. I asked one of my male friends if baking a pie was an appropriate response to a breakup, and I was told, “Only if you’re planning on throwing it at his face while it’s still steaming hot.” Aah, right to the point.

So now I present the:

I’m-Too-Good-For-Him-Anyway Apple Pie:

8 cups of peeled, sliced apples (Approx 1- 1 1/2 lbs)

1/3 cup sugar

2-3 teaspoons of cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1/2 teaspoon lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

2 pie crusts (Store bought. You can find them in the refrigerator section) ‘

Vanilla ice cream or whipped cream

1.) Heat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit

2.) Peel, core and slice your apples. Slices can be thick, thin, whatever you want. Word of caution: thick apples will stay kind of firm, whereas thin apples will bake into kind of a mush.

3.) Toss the apples with the lemon juice, then mix in the sugar and cinnamon

4.) Add vanilla and give it a last stir.

5.) Unfold your pie crust into your tin or baking dish. Make sure there’s a little crust overhanging your pie pan.

6.) Pour or layer your apples into the crust

7.) Unfold and lay the top crust over your apples. Using a fork, seal the edges of the pie by making fork indentations along the outside.

8.) Using the tip of your knife, mark the top. Draw a picture, make an X, do whatever you want. This will allow steam from your pie to escape to prevent it exploding all over your oven.

9.) If you want a pretty finish on your pie, brush a little egg white over the top crust, and sprinkle with a little bit of sugar.

10.) Put your pie in the oven. Set a kitchen timer, your watch, or your cell phone to about 30 minutes. Check your pie when the timer goes off and if your pie isn’t dark enough, add 10 more minutes to the bake time.

[scrumptious photo from lickyourownbowl.files.wordpress.com]

Currently, “Elisa” is interning for a big, flashy 5th Avenue designer. Sounds awesome, right? Well, read the third installment HERE, and then read on…]

I’M FINALLY FREE!!!

I wish I could say from the intern sh*t, but I was actually stuck in a tiny elevator with 6 people for 45 minutes.

Why? because we were all waiting for cake.

All for a freaking piece of cake on the day I was supposed to start my “diet.” I swear this place does not help me out one bit.

I wish I could say that this place is as exciting…what with today and the elevator fiasco, but I honestly don’t know how much more of this useless crap I can handle.

I’m now blatantly on Facebook all day for my boss to see, and spending more and more time in front of the computer. We have received endless amounts of sample bags that I am given the amazing task of taking pictures of. Oh yes, this is what my brain power is spent on. Taking pictures of bags.

Someone help me.

So a few days ago I decided I was going to ask my boss to cut back my hours once she hires this “assistant” she’s been talking about, but godd*mn if she doesn’t beat me to it… she gave her two weeks notice and is moving to LA! WTF… ARE YOU SERIOUS?!

So apparently the new guy — my new boss — is coming in next week, so she’s going to teach me everything to teach him….

Right…. and you couldn’t just pay me?? I do all the physical labor anyway!! So far I have used a Sealing machine, a hair dryer thing for shrink wrap, a mixer, popcorn machine, and a hammer / torture device-esque contraption just to name a few.

You know, I still don’t get why I don’t just quit. I have zero benefits whatsoever…

My boss even looked pissed when I asked if I could get off 2 hours early. Come on lady, I’m sure I can do more physical labor the next day. Or wait… how about you do some of your own sh*t for a change? I swear she thinks up the most useless tasks ever.

[Crap, somebody needs something...brb...]

Wow this day is full of f*ckin surprises. Apparently there’s a buzzer upstairs that the sales people press when they think there are shoplifters in the building… and now everyone has to run upstairs. FUN.

I swear this place never lets me leave on time.

I’m gonna go steal another cookie now.

Maybe she was so pissed off at getting dumped she just went black with rage and couldn’t think of any other way of getting the attention she needed. Maybe she thought the best revenge was one served to millions of Internet users all around the world. Who knows what made Smith share her very dirty laundry with the general populace. People get irrational when they’re kicked to the curb. The thing that’s important about this weird story?

She’s not the only one.

According to this NYT article, it’s becoming more and more acceptable to spill your guts to the world via blogging, and more and more acceptable to include really intimate details about your relationship (or current lack thereof).

What do you think of this kind of self-involved self-expression? When we whine into a webcam or tear someone apart through a ranty blog, does it come from a need to connect, or just a need for the world to revolve around us? What about people using real names and faces?

Have we become so obsessed with splashing ourselves across the airwaves that we’ve lost sight of what the words “private life” actually mean?

Spill. We want your opinion.