My very good friend Hollaback Girl is a delightful co-hort and brilliantwriter/editor. She whips out bon mots with the ease of a seasoned vivant. I read her blog, always with interest, often with envy. How can someone produce such wry, witty, funny, sardonic commentary day after day? And this on top of the brilliant, learned content she's expected to churn out in her job every day? I am in awe of this talent and more than a little intimidated.

I am a frustrated writer which, in fleeting moments, is something that I wish I had pursued professionally. I ply my hobby on annonymous message boards, baiting those slow witted unfortunates who are unable to compress the shift key on their keyboard or run a spellcheck. But this is losing its appeal. Message boards are for pithy dialogues and in true greedy fashion, I think I'd like a forum all to myself to muse on subjects that I think are interesting: fashion, pop culture, food, people, places, smells, politics, music and general ramblings about alltogether useless things. I encourage you to disagree with me and put me in my place. Bring it.

So the launch of this blog is Hollaback Girl's fault. She encouraged me to do this. I hope I don't disappoint.

And the name? I named this blog for comfort food because that's what it represents to me. There's nothing more perfect than a pristine white plate with a piece of greasy fried chicken and a waffle on it. Don't need another thing except a fork, a wetnap and a loose waistband on your drawers. Load up your plate--Let's eat!