Every week, sometime around the middle, my housemate and I sit down to watch The City and The Hills back to back. Usually, this night takes place on Tuesday--that being the night the shows are posted online--and usually involves hooded sweatshirts and ice cream. Tonight i made twice baked potatoes for everyone. Dean had a apple turnover that his brother sent him.
So let's just get one think straight. The Hills and The City are unequivocally great tv shows. Tonight my housemate--Dean again--wished he could have bought stalk in The Hills at the get go. He also had to wish, later, that you could buy stalk in television shows at all, but that's beside the point. The point is that these two shows are great. They are the most fascinating shows i've ever watch. They are dramatic, embarrassing, jaw dropping, disgusting, and completely enjoyable. Outside of sentimentality they have everything you could wish for in a television series. Well, that and likable characters. Neither shows have likable characters. But whatever, who needs sentimentality and likable characters. We'll have plenty of both in a few months when the Winter Olympics role around (who else is watching women ice skating qualifiers. Right!). So yeah, the abovementioned television is chalk full of awfully rich children, rolling, dancing, drinking, and possibly fornicating in New York and Beverly Hills. They're the kind of shows that make you want to punch total strangers and I think that's important.
- The twice baked potatoes were incredible.
- I missed new comic day.
- Devendra Banhart is good, but his style should not be duplicated (see also: kids singing open mic night like goats)
- Australians are still awful people.
- Canadians are push-overs.
- Most women are stronger than me.
- I'm still wearing the Yankee cap.
- My fucking computer doesn't have speakers right now. This is bad for late night tv.
- Dean is growing his beard but shaved under his jaw line. This was a mistake as far as i can tell. His beard, which ought to look like an organic, circumstantial thing, looks like a business model, well thought out and planned for the future. Unfortunately, this is actually the case; Dean in growing a mustache in disguise. I almost want to tell him to shave it and correct it's course from the beginning. I would if not for the inevitable storm of self-consciousness that would then settle in on him and ultimately inspire him to scrap the whole project.
That about wraps everything up.
Obviously, word to your mother.
- TW
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Latin Comics and Other Awful Things
Last night, George Lopez made his debut on Lopez Tonight and for the first time since Carson Daily hit the air, a late night talk show host proved it possible to be less funny than Jay Leno.
The Lopez Show was a complete mess. I think I made it about halfway through his opening act before I quit the scene. Lopez bombed. The camera crew also struggled, mostly in their pursuit of audience members clapping, smiling, or even laughing. It was pretty awful. Lopez, it seems, struggles with the same problem that Carlos Mencia struggles with; hyper focus on race relations. I understand that the whole white-people-do-shit-different-than-us joke (or vice versa) has been successful, but enough already. It's been done. And really, it's a lot funnier when black comedians do it. When George Lopez walks on to a five hundred thousand dollar set that looks like a 1980's Miami discotheque, and says, "I just had an 'ah hah' moment. I thought only Caucasian people have those, but i just had one," I want to kill everyone. Like, George Lopez, you're not mexican. Socioeconomically speaking, you're much more like a white male. ha. Anyway, I'm just not interested in hearing some rich talk show host talk about privilege.
Carlos Mencia, too, man. He's bad. Just for fun, I google searched Carlos Mencia clips and the first hit was a bit making fun of white people and camping. A) I'm pretty sure someone that's funnier has done this already, and B) shut the fuck already. Carlos Mencia is like more middle American than anyone I know. The next bit I saw was something of a Socratic dialogue between him and an Afghani, concerning whose country was hotter shit. So basically, the next four minutes are all about how America is the most guns blazing, ass fucking, bomb dropping bunch of badasses there ever where. He punctuated this bit by sticking his hands down his pants, exclaiming that he would not apologize for being a man, and then stuck his fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply. Sooo, hmmm. If it wasn't so obviously sincere, it would make for a decent bit of social commentary or something. But I really think it's not that thoughtful. It was about big dicks and bombs and money, and that's fine or whatever, but like, who are you talking to? Who is you're audience, Carlos Mencia? I like camping and dislike war despite its inevitability, and people who like war or whatever, well, i'm pretty sure they like camping too. That i didn't hear anything about 'getting her done' in that bit was almost impossible to me. I watched it again just to double check. Anyway, it was embarrassing. Flamboyant and desperate and not funny. It was like watching Dane Cook with a white motorcycle jacket and a better head of hair. Lopez at least isn't quite so desperate. He's just a rich asshole. In any case, they are both bad. Dane Cook, too, is quite bad.
Anyhow, the whole Lopez Tonight thing was ridiculous. It made me feel crazy. Then, watching the Carlos Mencia thing made me feel double the crazy, and kinda mad actually. Their concern for the differences between them and whites (Lopez doesn't even have the balls to call an apple an apple (e.g. Caucasian)) is silly. The real comparison should be between themselves and the average Latin American. Like, "when you drive to the store you're all like this, etc. in a '88 Honda Civic with flip lights, and when I drive to the store i'm all like this, etc. in a Hummer. What up! I be like driving over your ass and not even spillin' my latte." I don't know. Disregard that last bit.
So i don't know. I'm too caffeinated and tired to continue. Plus it's dark and CA just got back to brooklyn. So basically, i'm looking to eat a cheeseburger, put in my retainer, and get laid. Booyah. I do, however, want to talk about Australians at some point and how they will never be cool. It's a recent and interesting discovery for me. I think everyone could benefit from it.
Until then, crime-fighters. This is TW, signing out.
- TW
The Lopez Show was a complete mess. I think I made it about halfway through his opening act before I quit the scene. Lopez bombed. The camera crew also struggled, mostly in their pursuit of audience members clapping, smiling, or even laughing. It was pretty awful. Lopez, it seems, struggles with the same problem that Carlos Mencia struggles with; hyper focus on race relations. I understand that the whole white-people-do-shit-different-than-us joke (or vice versa) has been successful, but enough already. It's been done. And really, it's a lot funnier when black comedians do it. When George Lopez walks on to a five hundred thousand dollar set that looks like a 1980's Miami discotheque, and says, "I just had an 'ah hah' moment. I thought only Caucasian people have those, but i just had one," I want to kill everyone. Like, George Lopez, you're not mexican. Socioeconomically speaking, you're much more like a white male. ha. Anyway, I'm just not interested in hearing some rich talk show host talk about privilege.
Carlos Mencia, too, man. He's bad. Just for fun, I google searched Carlos Mencia clips and the first hit was a bit making fun of white people and camping. A) I'm pretty sure someone that's funnier has done this already, and B) shut the fuck already. Carlos Mencia is like more middle American than anyone I know. The next bit I saw was something of a Socratic dialogue between him and an Afghani, concerning whose country was hotter shit. So basically, the next four minutes are all about how America is the most guns blazing, ass fucking, bomb dropping bunch of badasses there ever where. He punctuated this bit by sticking his hands down his pants, exclaiming that he would not apologize for being a man, and then stuck his fingers to his nose and inhaled deeply. Sooo, hmmm. If it wasn't so obviously sincere, it would make for a decent bit of social commentary or something. But I really think it's not that thoughtful. It was about big dicks and bombs and money, and that's fine or whatever, but like, who are you talking to? Who is you're audience, Carlos Mencia? I like camping and dislike war despite its inevitability, and people who like war or whatever, well, i'm pretty sure they like camping too. That i didn't hear anything about 'getting her done' in that bit was almost impossible to me. I watched it again just to double check. Anyway, it was embarrassing. Flamboyant and desperate and not funny. It was like watching Dane Cook with a white motorcycle jacket and a better head of hair. Lopez at least isn't quite so desperate. He's just a rich asshole. In any case, they are both bad. Dane Cook, too, is quite bad.
Anyhow, the whole Lopez Tonight thing was ridiculous. It made me feel crazy. Then, watching the Carlos Mencia thing made me feel double the crazy, and kinda mad actually. Their concern for the differences between them and whites (Lopez doesn't even have the balls to call an apple an apple (e.g. Caucasian)) is silly. The real comparison should be between themselves and the average Latin American. Like, "when you drive to the store you're all like this, etc. in a '88 Honda Civic with flip lights, and when I drive to the store i'm all like this, etc. in a Hummer. What up! I be like driving over your ass and not even spillin' my latte." I don't know. Disregard that last bit.
So i don't know. I'm too caffeinated and tired to continue. Plus it's dark and CA just got back to brooklyn. So basically, i'm looking to eat a cheeseburger, put in my retainer, and get laid. Booyah. I do, however, want to talk about Australians at some point and how they will never be cool. It's a recent and interesting discovery for me. I think everyone could benefit from it.
Until then, crime-fighters. This is TW, signing out.
- TW
Sunday, November 8, 2009
The Lord's Day
I'm sorry to say that this Sunday I will not be offering anything up in the way of a blog. Sunday is the Lord's day. At least this one Sunday.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
The Weekend
I'm sorry, friends. I've failed you. I've missed a day.
Last night I got home at around 4am. CA and I went out to the bars with her old housemate and his girlfriend from Boston. So after waking up 9am, CA and I drank until around 4am, ate a cheese steak and some fries, and popped into a cab back to brooklyn. So today was pretty much wasted. I guess not wasted. I stayed in all day and drank coffee and ate bagels.
Now we're watching an interview on Entertainment Tonight with John Gosling, of the famed TV show 'John & Kate + Eight'. Basically, this guy is just an idiot. He's stupid. That's not fair. He's fucked. That's the problem. He's completely fucked. Not as a person or whatever, but politically or socially or something. He just shouldn't be talking to the media at all. It's like watching somebody say something ethnically insensitive and then realizing that said something just made everyone uncomfortable. the inevitable back-peddling that follows is the always worse than the original statement. Watching John Gosling on TV is a complete train wreck. So he's fucked. He behaves like a child. He seems to know better, but just chooses not to change his behavior. Like, his response to the question, "you seem to not be able to stay out of the lime-light?" is beautiful. John basically said, "it's good to be in the media so long as your portrayal is good, but i'm not going to change..." So, like, that's cool. It's close to something like madness. You know how people think it's really interesting that the "definition" of madness is something like, "attempting something repeatedly, expecting different results." So I guess some people think that definition is suuuuper interesting. Probably cause people exhibit that behavior all the time. So anyway, you get it. Gosling is portrayed as an asshole in the media, he behaves like an asshole, he wants to be portrayed as a nice guy, he doesn't want to change. Sooo. Right. Anyway, now we're watching NCIS with L.L. Cool J and Chris O'Donnell, which is way less satisfying. It's difficult, though, to turn down a pseudo cop show with those two characters. I mean it's bad. Like a bunch of idiots miming pro-military propaganda. Lie, this episode is about a dead Navy Seal. LL cool J's character is a Navy Seal. So basically, this show is a big commercial for the Navy Seals, which is nothing like the Navy Seals of my understanding. Instead, this commercial is all about brotherhood, and integrity, and honor and shit, which is obviously, for anyone who knows me, a huge disappointment considering the fact that my understanding of the Navy Seals was founded on cinematic classics like 'Under Seige'. So unless LL and C. O'D start breaking arms over their shoulders, and getting into knife fights like it's their job, i'm changing the channel. Also, there aren't nearly enough strippers poppin out cakes for this show to be about the Navy Seal. Whatever, I have no control over whether or not we watch this show, I think Carolann has a crush on LL. I don't know how she couldn't, ladies love him.
Hope everyone is well out there.
Also, Australians suck so much cock. Topic of tomorrow's BloPo.
Also, gay men cannot legally give blood. Actually, not gay men, men who have ever participated in intercourse with another man cannot give blood. So gay men, and college football players who are not gay but get drunk at parties. So that's the law. Evidently because of their association with HIV. This is actually sad. CA just told me and it made me sad.
- XOXO, Gossip Girl.
Last night I got home at around 4am. CA and I went out to the bars with her old housemate and his girlfriend from Boston. So after waking up 9am, CA and I drank until around 4am, ate a cheese steak and some fries, and popped into a cab back to brooklyn. So today was pretty much wasted. I guess not wasted. I stayed in all day and drank coffee and ate bagels.
Now we're watching an interview on Entertainment Tonight with John Gosling, of the famed TV show 'John & Kate + Eight'. Basically, this guy is just an idiot. He's stupid. That's not fair. He's fucked. That's the problem. He's completely fucked. Not as a person or whatever, but politically or socially or something. He just shouldn't be talking to the media at all. It's like watching somebody say something ethnically insensitive and then realizing that said something just made everyone uncomfortable. the inevitable back-peddling that follows is the always worse than the original statement. Watching John Gosling on TV is a complete train wreck. So he's fucked. He behaves like a child. He seems to know better, but just chooses not to change his behavior. Like, his response to the question, "you seem to not be able to stay out of the lime-light?" is beautiful. John basically said, "it's good to be in the media so long as your portrayal is good, but i'm not going to change..." So, like, that's cool. It's close to something like madness. You know how people think it's really interesting that the "definition" of madness is something like, "attempting something repeatedly, expecting different results." So I guess some people think that definition is suuuuper interesting. Probably cause people exhibit that behavior all the time. So anyway, you get it. Gosling is portrayed as an asshole in the media, he behaves like an asshole, he wants to be portrayed as a nice guy, he doesn't want to change. Sooo. Right. Anyway, now we're watching NCIS with L.L. Cool J and Chris O'Donnell, which is way less satisfying. It's difficult, though, to turn down a pseudo cop show with those two characters. I mean it's bad. Like a bunch of idiots miming pro-military propaganda. Lie, this episode is about a dead Navy Seal. LL cool J's character is a Navy Seal. So basically, this show is a big commercial for the Navy Seals, which is nothing like the Navy Seals of my understanding. Instead, this commercial is all about brotherhood, and integrity, and honor and shit, which is obviously, for anyone who knows me, a huge disappointment considering the fact that my understanding of the Navy Seals was founded on cinematic classics like 'Under Seige'. So unless LL and C. O'D start breaking arms over their shoulders, and getting into knife fights like it's their job, i'm changing the channel. Also, there aren't nearly enough strippers poppin out cakes for this show to be about the Navy Seal. Whatever, I have no control over whether or not we watch this show, I think Carolann has a crush on LL. I don't know how she couldn't, ladies love him.
Hope everyone is well out there.
Also, Australians suck so much cock. Topic of tomorrow's BloPo.
Also, gay men cannot legally give blood. Actually, not gay men, men who have ever participated in intercourse with another man cannot give blood. So gay men, and college football players who are not gay but get drunk at parties. So that's the law. Evidently because of their association with HIV. This is actually sad. CA just told me and it made me sad.
- XOXO, Gossip Girl.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Passed out
Tonight i neglected my BloPo obligations. I'm crossing my fingers, hoping that when i post this, it reads Thursday 11/6 even though at the moment it's 3am on Friday morning. So, I guess, a little explanation is in order. I opened the coffee shop today. That means that after last nights blog, yankee game which ended at 12:30am, and compulsively researching cell phone plans, Manhattan neighborhoods, and horse breeds (there are over 300 breeds of horses) I woke up at 5:30am.
So Today I was completely exhausted. The worst part of working a coffee shop job is that it requires these huge feats of patience and understanding. Today that was impossible. Because of the relationship between you and the customer, exhaustion and frustration are almost completely unacceptable. Even looking someone in the eye and telling them to have a nice day becomes difficult. Doing that 200 times, sounds insurmountable. So instead, I was quiet today. I did my best to be kind and friendly, but also stayed reserved. It felt really good. I served everyone the best i could and was quiet.
After work, i met my Aaron for lunch at this Polish diner on 2ave and 10th st called Veselka. It's incredible. Aaron had the meatballs and i had beef stroganoff. Both were good. We discussed job dissatisfaction and our personal lives. He worries that his job keeps him from his art and I worry that I've been too engaged in the success of something that ultimately shows me no ends. So that was upsetting. mostly I worry that he's going to take off soon. The idea of doing this job without a co-manager is terrifying. uff.
When i got home, I got a half dozen 'donuts' from a 24hr diner near Carolann's stop, ate one on the road back to my house, sent some emails, read a sex book that Carolann gave me from her job and Penguin, and passed out, fully clothed, watching Ghost Busters. GB is probably one of the best movies ever made. Or, at least, is a great movie that features one of the best cinematice decisions ever made. Everyone in GB smokes and drinks cans of budweiser on the job. It's beautiful. It always makes me laugh. One scene that comes to mind and has been the topic of endless discussion between me and the C-note, finds Sigourney Weaver entering Ghost Buster's HQ for the first time. As she approaches the camera and the shot begins to pull out, we find Dan Aykroyd working up to his waste under the hood of the GB car, smoke wafting out around him. Drawn by the sound of Weaver's heals on the cement of the GB garage, Aykroyd pops his head out from inside the hood, at which point we discover that he's smoking a cigarette. At this point, we can infer, perhaps correctly or not, that the smoke from the engine block was actually smoke from Aykroyd's cigarette. Obviously, this shit is ridiculously funny to me. Though i'm not sure on what level these guys were operating when they wrote this movie, I can only hope that my inferences in terms of their intention match up. I love the idea of Harold Ramis and Dan Aykroyd laughing at the idea of Ray Stanz smoking cigarettes and working under the hood of a car. Obviously, I may never know the true intentions of these guys. Maybe it's better that way. Maybe it's better to believe that this film is operating the way i want it to, and that these scenes, which i feel have these subtle and persistent qualities are not just a lucky accidents. I need more sleep before i go into this. I can't remember how i got here.
So Today I was completely exhausted. The worst part of working a coffee shop job is that it requires these huge feats of patience and understanding. Today that was impossible. Because of the relationship between you and the customer, exhaustion and frustration are almost completely unacceptable. Even looking someone in the eye and telling them to have a nice day becomes difficult. Doing that 200 times, sounds insurmountable. So instead, I was quiet today. I did my best to be kind and friendly, but also stayed reserved. It felt really good. I served everyone the best i could and was quiet.
After work, i met my Aaron for lunch at this Polish diner on 2ave and 10th st called Veselka. It's incredible. Aaron had the meatballs and i had beef stroganoff. Both were good. We discussed job dissatisfaction and our personal lives. He worries that his job keeps him from his art and I worry that I've been too engaged in the success of something that ultimately shows me no ends. So that was upsetting. mostly I worry that he's going to take off soon. The idea of doing this job without a co-manager is terrifying. uff.
When i got home, I got a half dozen 'donuts' from a 24hr diner near Carolann's stop, ate one on the road back to my house, sent some emails, read a sex book that Carolann gave me from her job and Penguin, and passed out, fully clothed, watching Ghost Busters. GB is probably one of the best movies ever made. Or, at least, is a great movie that features one of the best cinematice decisions ever made. Everyone in GB smokes and drinks cans of budweiser on the job. It's beautiful. It always makes me laugh. One scene that comes to mind and has been the topic of endless discussion between me and the C-note, finds Sigourney Weaver entering Ghost Buster's HQ for the first time. As she approaches the camera and the shot begins to pull out, we find Dan Aykroyd working up to his waste under the hood of the GB car, smoke wafting out around him. Drawn by the sound of Weaver's heals on the cement of the GB garage, Aykroyd pops his head out from inside the hood, at which point we discover that he's smoking a cigarette. At this point, we can infer, perhaps correctly or not, that the smoke from the engine block was actually smoke from Aykroyd's cigarette. Obviously, this shit is ridiculously funny to me. Though i'm not sure on what level these guys were operating when they wrote this movie, I can only hope that my inferences in terms of their intention match up. I love the idea of Harold Ramis and Dan Aykroyd laughing at the idea of Ray Stanz smoking cigarettes and working under the hood of a car. Obviously, I may never know the true intentions of these guys. Maybe it's better that way. Maybe it's better to believe that this film is operating the way i want it to, and that these scenes, which i feel have these subtle and persistent qualities are not just a lucky accidents. I need more sleep before i go into this. I can't remember how i got here.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Those Yankees
Tonight i wore the baseball cap of a team that won the World Series and it felt pretty good.
This is one of two world series that I've watched through completely. The last time I invested like this was in 1998 when my hometown team, the San Diego Padres went to The Series. Then, too, the Yankees were there. They won in four games. It was ridiculous. No one really expected the Padres to win, but not even taking one game off the Yankees was sad. I hated the Yankees, I hated their money, and I hated their fans. As early as the third game, Yankees fans were bringing out the brooms. In the final game I felt like they all had brooms; and they had them in Qualcomm stadium. I don't even care about baseball. To my friends, that much is obvious. I think it's slow and wearying. Still, I hated those goddamn Yankee fans.
Today, I'm sitting at home in Brooklyn, New York. I'm wearing a Yankee cap that a friend, and avid Yankee supporter, bought for me. "Root for a team that wins once and a while," he said. He was only teasing but it's true. For the duration of the series I have done just that. I've rooted for the Yankees. Incidentally, I already knew half the players on the team. And so, for the past six or seven days, I watched the games and rooted for my team. It wasn't difficult. Everyone wants their team to win 27 championships. Everyone wants their team to be the Yankees. They are everything that baseball is. Everything from the pinstripes, to the logo, to the city they represent is legendary, and for that, rooting for this team was a beautiful thing.
Now, it is starting to rain. Mayor Bloomeberg is on the television in Yankee garb, people are gathering in the streets outside my apartment, going to or returning from the bars, the empire state building is lit-up in Yankee's blue and gray. Tomorrow I will wake up at half past five, and get on the subway. From the car, heading over the bridge through Brooklyn, I can see the lower Manhattan and off in the distance, the Empire Building. New York, for me, is still a little magical. I'm still star struck when i see famous sights and eat famous foods. For that, rooting for the Yankee's tonight was special. To simply feel like a part of something, to wear the hat to work tomorrow and have every customer comment on 'those Yankees". Wherever i go from here, I'll have the year that i was in New York and felt like a New Yorker.
This is one of two world series that I've watched through completely. The last time I invested like this was in 1998 when my hometown team, the San Diego Padres went to The Series. Then, too, the Yankees were there. They won in four games. It was ridiculous. No one really expected the Padres to win, but not even taking one game off the Yankees was sad. I hated the Yankees, I hated their money, and I hated their fans. As early as the third game, Yankees fans were bringing out the brooms. In the final game I felt like they all had brooms; and they had them in Qualcomm stadium. I don't even care about baseball. To my friends, that much is obvious. I think it's slow and wearying. Still, I hated those goddamn Yankee fans.
Today, I'm sitting at home in Brooklyn, New York. I'm wearing a Yankee cap that a friend, and avid Yankee supporter, bought for me. "Root for a team that wins once and a while," he said. He was only teasing but it's true. For the duration of the series I have done just that. I've rooted for the Yankees. Incidentally, I already knew half the players on the team. And so, for the past six or seven days, I watched the games and rooted for my team. It wasn't difficult. Everyone wants their team to win 27 championships. Everyone wants their team to be the Yankees. They are everything that baseball is. Everything from the pinstripes, to the logo, to the city they represent is legendary, and for that, rooting for this team was a beautiful thing.
Now, it is starting to rain. Mayor Bloomeberg is on the television in Yankee garb, people are gathering in the streets outside my apartment, going to or returning from the bars, the empire state building is lit-up in Yankee's blue and gray. Tomorrow I will wake up at half past five, and get on the subway. From the car, heading over the bridge through Brooklyn, I can see the lower Manhattan and off in the distance, the Empire Building. New York, for me, is still a little magical. I'm still star struck when i see famous sights and eat famous foods. For that, rooting for the Yankee's tonight was special. To simply feel like a part of something, to wear the hat to work tomorrow and have every customer comment on 'those Yankees". Wherever i go from here, I'll have the year that i was in New York and felt like a New Yorker.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
On Preparation for Winter
Tonight, I cooked a soup. I've been doing this lately, cooking soup. I sit at home, watch seinfeld on tv, and I cook soup. Right now the episode is on in which Elaine reveals to Jerry that she 'faked' every orgasm she ever had with him. I love this episode. Incidentally, the woman who plays the role of Dr. Cuddy on the television show House MD, and who also has, on occasion, kissed my co-worker on the mouth, makes an appearance in this episode. It's a great episode.
The soup, though. The soup is excellent. It's full of things that could make a man smile and a woman blush; potatoes, corn, bacon, and a man's love. I'm making it for the second time around, and going for broke at the market, I picked up 8oz of slab bacon instead of the thinly cut variety. I've never cooked this type of bacon before, and I can say, now, that is the finest bacon that i have come to know. Everything from cooking, to eating, to even cutting it into neat little cubes, nears perfection. The quintessential question of adolescent males is often asked of such unique and perfect foods, "would you rather give up 'blank' or blow jobs... forever!". In the case of slab bacon, I'm afraid i would have to permanently bow out on oral sex. this is no slight on you, CA. The bacon is just very, very good. I'm not sure, however, that the soup is so good as the bacon alone, though i doubt that many soups are on par with blow jobs.
The point of the soup--only the second soup i've attempted this season--is to hone my survival skills for the upcoming winter. As the time change came into affect this past Saturday, and the light that had already started waning earlier and earlier in the day, jumped by a whole hour's mark, I found myself almost fearful of the terrible winter ahead. Fall, revered by all New Yorkers, had, for me, the acrid taste of negative temperatures and pallor. So I've been working. I've been preparing. As far back as summer i began my preparation; I bought a North Face parka for half-price online while staying with my parents in San Diego. A week or two ago, I bought a new pair of waterproof work-boots and wool socks. Work books, by the way, have become my religion. They have been, over the course of the past year, the most revelatory discovery of my adult life. Boots have changed my life on the east coast more than extra thin condoms, stone ground mustard, and domestic beer. Needless to say, boots are something that have come out of the dark to show me the light. Last winter they were my savior, and this year I've upped the ante. So i got new goddamn boots and a parka and some socks for outerwear, and for the soul and state-of-mind I have soup. Soup, being the only food I want to eat when temperatures dip below the thirties, it is natural to run some field tests before combat. Additionally, running the stove for hours and hours at a time warms the apartment, which in my case; the case of having roommates who ran a tv cable through your bedroom window, preventing it from ever shutting properly, is a very valuable feature.
The soup, though. The soup is excellent. It's full of things that could make a man smile and a woman blush; potatoes, corn, bacon, and a man's love. I'm making it for the second time around, and going for broke at the market, I picked up 8oz of slab bacon instead of the thinly cut variety. I've never cooked this type of bacon before, and I can say, now, that is the finest bacon that i have come to know. Everything from cooking, to eating, to even cutting it into neat little cubes, nears perfection. The quintessential question of adolescent males is often asked of such unique and perfect foods, "would you rather give up 'blank' or blow jobs... forever!". In the case of slab bacon, I'm afraid i would have to permanently bow out on oral sex. this is no slight on you, CA. The bacon is just very, very good. I'm not sure, however, that the soup is so good as the bacon alone, though i doubt that many soups are on par with blow jobs.
The point of the soup--only the second soup i've attempted this season--is to hone my survival skills for the upcoming winter. As the time change came into affect this past Saturday, and the light that had already started waning earlier and earlier in the day, jumped by a whole hour's mark, I found myself almost fearful of the terrible winter ahead. Fall, revered by all New Yorkers, had, for me, the acrid taste of negative temperatures and pallor. So I've been working. I've been preparing. As far back as summer i began my preparation; I bought a North Face parka for half-price online while staying with my parents in San Diego. A week or two ago, I bought a new pair of waterproof work-boots and wool socks. Work books, by the way, have become my religion. They have been, over the course of the past year, the most revelatory discovery of my adult life. Boots have changed my life on the east coast more than extra thin condoms, stone ground mustard, and domestic beer. Needless to say, boots are something that have come out of the dark to show me the light. Last winter they were my savior, and this year I've upped the ante. So i got new goddamn boots and a parka and some socks for outerwear, and for the soul and state-of-mind I have soup. Soup, being the only food I want to eat when temperatures dip below the thirties, it is natural to run some field tests before combat. Additionally, running the stove for hours and hours at a time warms the apartment, which in my case; the case of having roommates who ran a tv cable through your bedroom window, preventing it from ever shutting properly, is a very valuable feature.
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