There was a carton of (semi-frozen) bite-size fruit (melons, pineapple, grapes), but no forks or spears or toothpicks with which to eat said fruit.
So Anil and I created these lovely artistic glasses of fruit:
What's your favorite drink or cocktail? What's in it?
Question submitted by charm.vox.com
A Sazerac! It's my latest cocktail obsession.
This is the recipe I use. Ingredients:
What are your three favorite album covers of all-time? Any honorable mentions?
Question submitted by Tamara
Roxy Music, For Your Pleasure
I'd feel quite justified in filling up my list with only Roxy Music covers, because they're so wonderfully sleazy & glamorous at the same time.
The Afghan Whigs, Gentlemen
The perfect cover for the perfect "I love you fuck you" album.
Serge Gainsbourg, Histoire de Melody Nelson
I love this album, and the cover is just brilliant: Melody (well, Jane Birkin) all innocent and sexual at the same time. Just as Serge preferred, I suppose.
Rock Star: Supernova is the most wonderfully sincere show on television, and I love it! 
Consider: People in the crowd singing along to a cover of the Goo Goo Dolls' "Iris"; Jason Newsted and Tommy Lee bobbing their heads to Coldplay's "Yellow"; a contestant saying, "it's not about image, it's about the music," followed by 30 seconds of moody shots of said contestant staring off into the distance, looking pained in a very abstract & vague way. It's brilliant!
I'm a book-reading machine! I read two books this weekend:
Both non-fiction, both full of brilliant & larger-than-life characters, both very funny. Here's a quote from Heat, a New Yorker staff writer's story of training both in Mario Batali's kitchen (at Babbo) and under the tutelage of several artisans in Italy. This is Dario Cecchini, the greatest butcher in the world, who works in the 900-person town of Panzano, twenty miles from Florence, describing to a potential customer why his beef comes from Spanish cows, rather than the local legendary white cow, the chianina:
"The chianina is now not good because it is fundamentally banal. It is a name. Prada is a name. Versace is a name. Armani is a name. Chianina is a name. If I sold it, which I do not, I would be selling a name. Would I make money selling a name? Certainly. Would it be good for bizzness? Certainly. But bizzness does not interest me. Names do not interest me. Meat interests me. That's why I sell meat, not names. Besides," Dario adds, in a final flourish, "I don't believe in the purity of races. You, evidently, believe in the purity of races. So did Hitler. But Hitler, in my view, was wrong."
So it would appear that Godwin's Law has made the leap even to small hill towns in Tuscany!
Brilliant stuff. Well, so: boo on Joni Mitchell (though at least it's not that rubbish parking lot song), but yay on everything else, particularly A Tribe Called Quest, which I was just listening to right now!