Were back in the store in Canada. I haven't seen any here, yet, but considering the fact that american chocolate sucks just so much more than Canadian, I'm not on a huge quest.
I also ate a real egg when I was in Canada, and then had another one yesterday. Yay eggs for breakfast again! I've genuinely really truly missed eating eggs.
I apologize for the fractured and uninspiring nature of this blog post. Yesterday I was thinking I should really start daily writing because I usually have random thoughts etc. Today I can't recall one of those thoughts to save my life. I did just bust out my hand held massager, though. Good times.
Oh and I get to cross Florida off the list of states I've never visited as of next Thursday! Yay travelling!!!
in Vancouver for a flying trip through the city. I currently have a belly full of way too much sushi purchased for me by the kiddo. This is mostly a good thing, except for the vague need to expel said sushi through the most convenient orifice.
I'm still vaguely butthurt by folks who never visit me, so I'm not going out of my way to spend a huge amount of time with them. I've told people my plans and given them the opportunity to tag along if that is their wont but my focus is on hanging with the kiddo and the fam.
It's incredible how fast a week goes, though. Here it is Thursday and I'll be home with the architect on Sunday gearing up for our February trip to Florida. I feel pretty relaxed because I haven't made myself rush about to see everyone, but am dead broke because I forget how expensive shit is in Canada. Oh well....
I have burned the CRAP out of the top of my mouth on cheese pizza once again.
Cheese pizza and curry chips (not together. gross.) are my personal diet kryptonite. Well, those plus wine. And beer. That's it though - usually I'm pretty good with the food intake. If I could just get rid of those four things from my diet I'd be svelte and hot once more.
Anyhoo, so my friend treated me to lunch today because she has a crush on the pizza boy from the shop near my house. We had a couple of heady moments this afternoon when we thought he was the pizza owner, not just re-heater, but alas he spends most of his free time playing video games, getting tattooed, and waiting for Comic-Con. I've been kind of flirty/chatty with him since we moved over this way so we have a bit of a repartee, and today he gave us a sweet deal on our lunch and two free extra slices. He's pretty fricking hot, it's true, and my friend and I had a chuckle pondering the elaborate scheme he would undertake to woo me away from the architect ('cause you know, that could happen). The best we came up with involved a unicorn, a pink vespa, a sexy grotto constructed from pizza boxes, and a parade. Ah good times.
I may slip into a cheese covered pizza coma, though, so please send help if you don't hear from me any time soon.
So I'll admit to a certain amount of interest in things "foodie" that has mostly to do with how much I like to cook, a bit to do with my obsession pop culture, and a solid chunk to do with my love for Bourdain. Like I have the links at the side which I follow, I watch a couple of shows (not the reality ones, though I've got a small fondness for GRamsay's british version of Kitchen Nightmares), I subscribe to some magazines, and I keep up with the trends.
I've found, though, the to-do over who will be the next white house chef a little puzzling. Certain folks (i.e. the head of the CIA (culinary institute, not intelligence agency)) have said that it should be a rotating position of America's star chefs, much like Kennedy used to rotate artists and performers through. This seems like a bit of a conceit to me, in that the position is, more than anything, that of a household chef - chiefly responsible for running a kitchen for a family. It's not something that seems suited to the ego which probably goes along with a chef who has also been thrust into the spotlight by the food network or the NYT. I mean, I love chefs - I've dated two, over the years, and not-dated any number more - but they *do* have an ego. It's part of the job, I think, and necessary. Could Batali tone down his 'tude and make grilled cheese with Kraft singles for the kids? I dunno.
Oh and let's not pretend like Kraft singles don't make the best grilled cheese, ok?
I other news, I finally watched the Bourdain christmas special in which he cooks dinner for QOTSA. Josh Homme and Bourdain on the same screen? Ugly christmas sweaters aside, pretty fucking hot. I barely needed the subliminal Cialis advertising that kept flashing on the screen for the last two sections.
I'm glad that scrabulous is back in its new incarnation. Funny name aside, it kicks serious posterior over that EA official abomination with the corporate-sanctioned name.
I went to a bar to watch my first playoff football game today. All told, it's not nearly as interesting as hockey. I mean, it could be just that I don't get what's going on, but I've got to say that I don't get the interest. The bar sure gets loud, though - reminds me of Stanley Cup nights. Le sigh.
So I'm going home for a week next Sunday. Indulging in a little social network stalking, I've noticed that people are planning vacations to warm places etc. I always find myself a little put out when this comes up, since the same people are always making excuses for expenses and circumstances when we invite them to come visit us. I guess we aren't as exciting as tropical destinations but heck it sure makes me less than eager to go out of my way when I'm rationing out my seven night stay, know what I mean?
Is that petty? Probably, but hell when I've got seven days and 15 people to see, I'm happy to have delimiters for my schedules.
So check this: last night I dreamed that I was Anthony Bourdain's sous chef at Les Halles. You know, the restaurant where he's not even chef anymore. It was one of those dreams where I would partially wake up and then fall back into without missing a beat. Usually I only do that with crappy scary dreams, but last night it was like living a dream come true. Oh except for the part where it was just a friendly professional relationship not the hot dirty sexing relationship.
I guess I have become boring when my favourite dreams are now of me cooking, not me f-ing the brains out of my second line boytoys. Le sigh.
I imagine this all has to do with the fact that tonight is the season premier of No Reservations and that I've been waiting with bated breath. Or it could just be because I really like cooking. Who can tell?
In other food related news, I've eaten beef twice this holiday season and it didn't kill me. In fact, it didn't even make me feel too terribly. I like that, because, I have to admit, lately I've been all about the meat (dirty!). I've always felt so aggrieved when going to a restaurant and only being able to eat three things on the menu: salad, turkey burger, or salmon. Adding bacon earlier this year may not have been the best thing for my health, but g-darnit it's good for my tastebuds. If I can throw a steak on there now and again I may be in heaven.