Monday, September 29, 2008

So evidently unemployment does not equal greater blogging desire. However, it is fall, time of creativity, and I just found a dead-end jump at Hydro (what what!) so this should spawn multiple revelations.

Um, I got fish. Really, really bitchin' fish. Three dwarf gourami, four flame tetra and two sunrise blushing angelfish. They're awesome. The angels are named Sissy and Sonny after the childhood nicknames my father and his sister gave each other. This is mostly because, like my father and his sisters, the angels have no eyebrows. The other fish have no names because I don't like them as much. They are known simply based on their physical appearance and behavioral issues, much like I think we should characterize humans. The tetras, however, are giving me greys and here's why: They're supposed to be nice, friendly schooling fish that play well with others, but there's one that's a liiiiittle bit smaller than the other three and they keep picking on him! Anytime he swims remotely near their club, they rush him like an Alpha Beta Pi and send him careening off into some plastic plant like a little bitch. I look at this and think, "That me." Yeah. Tangible metaphor for life.

Happy Birthday, Mikey.

Sunday, September 07, 2008

For all you foodies out there...

I got 82; how about you?

God, I need a job...

1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional extra: Post a comment at linking to your results.

My comments after the — dash

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings - … uh, pass
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini — yes, but not together
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

Friday, September 05, 2008

"No problem"

Ahhhh. I thought it was sweet. I've had gentile friends in the past tell me that they feel Jewish and I totally get this because I feel French.

Anyway, Auntie just bought me a couch for my new place and it's fabulous and red and as soon as it finishes drying, I'll take a photo and post it. "Drying?" you ask. Indeed. I decided to opt for the stain guard and boy, am I glad that I did.

The couch does not come with stain guard; someone comes to your house to spray it with this aerosol canister once it's been installed. My guy came today and, shnikies, was he a good time. 50 years old, blond 80's do, 5'7" if a day and wearing a polar fleece. Pretty standard, right? SAPIWKVKKXMXAPIWHRwrong. I made the choice to tell him I was a musician and then, just as the Israelis ending their Red Sea Walk, the waters came crashing down. Would you believe that he himself was a musician? Cause he totally was. Srsly, you guys! What kind of music did he play? Oh everything from rock to jazz to blues to grunge to folk, you know, like we all do. He quoted some of his homespun song lyrics that had the same emotional depth as an Ann Murray composition as if they were a lost Gospel. So he launches into his musical life story and I think, Jebus, here I am in my own home listening to some nut job talk about his philosophy on art and life.But then I thought, Well, shit. I have no job, I have no plans other than to run to the hardware store. What else have I got to do? So I let him natter on and then, whilst discussing the reasons to be a musician, I decided to tell him about how moving I found it to perform spiritual music for other people and by doing so, released his spiritual beast, bringing this encounter to a whole new uncomfortable level of weird. Disappointingly, he wasn't a religious nut, just your average, run-of-the-mill, God-is-everywhere kinda guy. He spoke of how he had crippling disease and been away from his kids and been into drugs & alcohol and how letting everything fall into God's hands led him to this great place he was at (spraying my couch). He went on to talk about how Jews, Christians, Catholics (evidently, they deserve their own mention) and Muslims all find God in their own ways and I thought this was pretty cool.

He must have just talked for about 45 minutes straight with me grinning like a five year old at story time. It's not that I thought he was especially deep - though I know he'd disagree with me there - but it was just a random human moment that I let happen and that was sweet. As he left, he said, You know, there's no such thing as 'luck'. Take a look at the letters in the word 'luck': L-U-C-K (Hooked on Phonics had evidently worked for someone). You know what those letters stand for? Labour Under Certain Knowledge. He was essentially saying that if you work hard with pure intentions, good things will happen and, c'mon, that's really nice.

Only another hour and a half until the couch is dry! WHEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Thursday, September 04, 2008

I have often defended the concept of meeting potential romantic partners on the internet, both on this blog and to my loved ones. However, the time has come to take off the rose-tinted glasses and face the long, hard and unsatisfying fact that it simply does not work for me.

I was having a lovely few days chatting with a potentially intriguing fellow when we decided to meet. It was...not good. Surprisingly not good. He was funny, attractive, a tad over confident and I had nothing to say to him. We struggled for about 90 minutes until finally, in a moment of post-midnight honesty, I said, "You know, I kinda thought that this would be better. That we...would be better." He agreed and left about 15 minutes later. I told this story to my most recent failed relationship who listened with dull, possibly mentally delayed nineteen year old ears with sympathy that I imagine would amount to that of an eggplant. One day later, Mr. Excitement tells me about a weird quasi-date that he went on (Boys, a tip: when trying to woo, do not talk about other dates that you're going on). Two days later Mr. Ex tells me that he went out on a quasi-date. Can we guess the outcome of this story? Yes, well-done: they went on a quasi-date together. And it was at that exact moment that I raised the white flag.

I'm out.

I first started chatting when I was 16 and since then I estimate that I have met well (WELL) over a hundred people from the internetz to varying degrees of success, from painfully awkward half-hour coffee dates to falling madly in love. Out of this 100+ people, I have one in my life. One. Out of one hundred. One (1) percent (%). Un pour cent. The infomercial that are dating sites are selling nothing but cheap goods that break nearly as soon as you get them. None of the romantic entanglements have ever lasted more than six weeks. None of the platonic friendships lasted because they weren't romantic entanglements and who the fuck needs another friend? Oh wait, all of my friends left the city. Crap. I should probably get on that. But I digress...

I realize that there are some people for whom the internet is an amazing social tool. This, however, is just not true for me. I suppose I held on so long because, let's face it, where the fuck else are there potentials? I'm not a bar guy, I'm not a dancer and I went to university with a bunch on Mennos. The only homos there are married with 5 kids. I have no particular links to the interior design world, nor do I frequent truck stops. I don't live in ancient Greece nor am I the shaman of a lost African tribe. In short, I'm kinda screwed. But now I think I'll be screwed in a much healthier way sans le chatting. I will continue to use e-mail, Facebook and sporadically update this withering shrub of a blog, but as for the rest...I'm returning it for a full refund. Minus shipping and handling.