Thursday, February 22, 2007

chicken fckin' nuggets

Slate talks about pre-made food and megacompany Sysco, who also by the way, offers "Serve Smart Chicken": "unique 3-D technology gives you the look and texture of a solid muscle chicken breast, at a fraction of the cost. … Available in four great flavors: teriyaki, BBQ, fajita and original."

Unique 3-D technology!!! Jamie Oliver, Crusader of Healthy, Tasty lunches for school kids demonstrates this great human advancement with his Chicken Nuggets demo. Le sigh. I wish these DVDs were available States-side.

Friday, February 16, 2007

mimiles and setaphors

Ooh errr. Thanks Ric Keller, or as our buddies must call you, R-Flay, for the most inept figurative language ever (from that snarky fellow at the Post):

"Fortunately, Ric Keller (R-Fla.) was on hand to restore gravity to the debate. He spoke about lawn care as a metaphor for Iraq:

'Imagine your next-door neighbor refuses to mow his lawn and the weeds are all the way up to his waist. You decide you are going to mow his lawn for him every single week. The neighbor never says thank you, he hates you, and sometimes he takes out a gun and shoots at you. Under these circumstances, do you keep mowing his lawn forever?'"

Wow. Things are so much clearer to me now.

when life hands you lemons...

... don't make this tart. Thanks, NYT, for helping me waste precious lemonsssss. Precioussss. But I've learned my lesson. Don't make a recipe because the picture looks pretty, you superficial fool.

Of course my brain caught up with my eyes in the middle of preparing these ingredients. The suspicion started to grow as I looked at the heap of steeping lemons slices, and even with the substitution of some meyer lemons, I thought, "Really?? This is not going to taste good." I typed into the computer with my pruney, lemony fingers and confirmed my worst fears.

I went into lazy damage control. I took out some regular lemon and added more sugar and meyer lemon. I cut some of the slices into slivers because I thought there'd be a big chewiness problem. Tarts are not supposed to be full of chewy rinds. I substituted the regular sugar strewn on top with crushed sugar crystals the Mom buys for coffee.

I just should have stopped. Made a clean break. "You may be pretty but this just isn't going to work out. I'm leaving you in pieces, pieces, pieces of you." And the lemon tart components would have done a little jig.

I had a slice. Grossness confirmed. I threw the rest of it out. The crust had been fine, the sugar fun to crunch into, the insides? Bitter, pithey (those lemons, they aren't longwinded), chewy, unpleasant. I should've stuck with my original idea of lemon cake with raspberry jam.


So I whipped up a batch of banana muffins and added the bar of Scharffen Berger gianduja I had lying around, thinking I'd go for the Nutella banana combo. Not enough choc, but it diverted me from acid lemon tears.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

tines, tines, tines

Our favorite teen girl squad tackles the delicate issue of valentimes. Love it.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

What is this "praise" you speak of?

NYmag has an article about how different kinds of praise affects kids. General blanket praise is found to be detrimental or at least not helpful in a kid's development or something like that because they opt not to try or work at things that they deem won't turn out successful.

Praise, much like potato chips and cable TV, was absent at the Fortress Nightingale (AND LOOK HOW GREAT I TURNED OUT), so this article read like Intro to Bizarro-World to me. It's tempting to bring in another blanket statement and say that praise is foreign to the old-school Korean upbringing way, but then there are those Korean parents who are sickeningly bragtastic about their stupid, not-so-special offspring.

But is this bizarro-world for anyone else? Is this white-people world? Were you praised as a child? Maybe I was, and I couldn't hear it over the clatter of my piano-practicing.

Detachment Blues

On both Saturday and Sunday, I slept around 15-16 hours. Did somebody not tell me that I am a bear? Or a sloth? Some monstrous combination of both? a bloth? I was feeling under the weather though. Like the weather is one of those old bridges and I'm a grumpy gnome. A gnome-bear-sloth. Cast me in a monster movie! And I won't watch it.

It was weird though, because I felt all floaty and detached from the world, and maybe a tad feverish. I am wondering about that strange detached feeling. If I were an artist, I'd make some freaky video installation that involved floating balloons and gnome-monsters and christmas lights and some people would shake their heads and be like, this is a bunch of b.s., give me back my money. Even though they would get to take a nice, cheery red balloon with them.

Well, it's probably because I spent more time dreaming than living real life. (OR IS IT THE OTHER WAY AROUND??) I know I go through this all the time, blahblahblahblah, where I don't want to do anything and I don't want to try, even with people I like, but then wompwompwomp, I have to try? Is this just going to go on until the end? Is it just a video that plays from time to time?

I don't even get a nice balloon. Because it will fly away. And pop. And choke some bird. And cause global warming. And Michael Pollan will write an article against eating balloons. Even the ripe berry ones.

Monday, February 05, 2007

It's your day

I've turned into drinks.

It's been almost two months. The moon's gone round and back again, because that is what it does. We sleep and then wake up and then sleep. Circle circle square square, now isn't that life everywhere?

I almost forgot how to do this thing, logging into this here site thing and puttin' down some nonfancy code and now that I'm here, I'm a little anxious to crawl back into my cave of hibernation, which is actually what I'm singing to that part of 'wave of mutilation' but I can't remember how the rest of the song goes anyway.

I'm bound to be bad at this, for I'm a little rusty. Don't get iron oxide in your eye. Why the sabbatical? Because I'm projecting from regular life onto this website because I really just want to get away and not do anything in all respects? Mayyyybe. Hot hot. Because I was away having a super-busy life and being too happy to have anything substantive to talk about? Cold cold. Though not being happy doesn't mean you have anything substantive to talk about. My brain needs oiling.

I thought about restarting with the new year. Like a computer. Reb00t, 2007. And I was gonna be like woo! New year and I'm gonna do all this stuff and gee, it'll be great, change and growth and whatnot. But my indolence and inertia had other ideas. They wanted to stay in the cave. They were like, who the hell are you kidding, kid? Don't you remember last year and before that? And then I was going to restart yesterday, because it's like woo! New age! and at least I can make a stupid entry, like on the cave's doorstep. Err, or cavestep. Cave foyer... So I'm one day late. I'm twenty-five. And I can't see anything in my pretend crystal ball. I can't even pretend to see things in my pretend crystal ball. And that sorta gets me down.

Whatever, it's probably because I stay in my cave so much, all shadowy-like. Where's the light? Oh there's the moon. And the rust in your eye. And the friendly bear Heidi who comes to my cave foyer to bite my arms off because she is hungry and grumpy and then I cannot type.