Somedays You Just Want To Sleep Them Away

August 23, 2010

Monday. Oh, Monday drizzly Monday. I have yet to feel your drizzly nature on my white face, my oh so pale white face that is flecked with red facial hair. The pleasant sounds of the street sweeper sweep by, but it sounds unlike a sweeper of the streets. It sounds more like a rapid moving carnivore eating the concrete it supposedly sweeps, so concreteiovore. All the muted tones are deeper in color soaked in your drizzliness. The sidewalks usually live in an unnoticeable color an almost non-existent light brown color. Now it is a rich tan like cookie dough flecked with black asphalt for chocolate chips. Walking on well baked chocolate chip cookies. The cars. Oh, the cars. They whoosh passed on the black asphalt streets. This whooshing like an ice skater in a sequin dress gaining speed for an aerial assault on the black asphalt. And the voices. The voices caressing my ear holes. Their words riding the man made ceiling fan made winds of my apartment. The words ride the wind like little cowboys and little cowgirls searching for an Oregon trail to my inner ear canal to my brain. These words and what these words mean. What are these words saying in tandem with the swooshing cars, the cookie walkways, the drizzly rain, the swept streets and my white bearded face? Cooking.

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I turned the TV on to give me some background noise and it is Julie & Julia. They keep blathering on about cooking. I fucking cook. Look at that breakfast. That’s a hell of a breakfast right there. Eggs, bagel, sausage, orange juice. I’m not following any recipes either Julie. That dish comes straight from me head! And do you want to talk about improvisation? I used Polly-O string cheese in those eggs. To be honest, the eggs weren’t the best. They were passable, but I’m a scrambled egg connoisseur. These eggs don’t cut the mustard if you know what I mean. Actually, they don’t cut anything. How could they? They’re scrambled eggs! If you are making sharp scrambled eggs then you are not making them correctly. I’m not happy the eggs were not the best, but in some strange way I was rooting for them not to be the best eggs I have ever had. Why? Polly-O fucking string cheese? The best scrambled eggs I ever make are with Polly-O string cheese? What a hassle? It is sheer luck I even had any cheese in my refrigerator apparently. On most scrambled egg making days, I throw some of that good ole’ shredded cheese in – maybe cheddar, maybe some monterey jack. I had already decided today was a scrambled egg day before I remembered I didn’t have shredded cheese. I usually substitute the shredded with sliced cheese, but I have not been to the cooled glass case of meats and cheeses deli counter in awhile, so what do I do? I randomly find Polly-O string cheese and I began the process of untethering the white cheese from the orange cheese. Momentarily, I am a racist cheesist until I rejoin the different color cheeses into the soupy scrambled egg mixture.

I’m sure that was thrilling for everyone. Today is Monday and that means we have all survived another weekend. Friday was low key. I drank red wine in Hoboken with a college friend. In the middle of said red wine drinking, said college friend needed to go to the grocery store for some cooking that needed to be done the following morning. I joined in the grocery store adventure. Not much to note in total, but there was one odd occurrence in the store. There is a seated section near the front of the store where one could eat if one desired so. There are sandwiches to buy or if one perhaps worked at the store and wanted a cafeteria style sitting arrangement to eat their purchased lunch or brought from home lunch then there would be your destination. Instead of a sandwich or anything resembling a sandwich, the man was on the finishing end of eating a 1/3 of a watermelon. Indeed! With a plastic disposable spoon et al! It was cartoon like. It was like out of a cartoon. He must have had an enormous watermelon, which he had cut into Mercedes Benz emblem thirds or someone had done this for him and then he paid for a slice. Either way, he sat elbows akimbo with face near buried in the fruit shoveling sliver after plastic spoonful sliver into his watermelon hole. Friday night at 10pm eating a watermelon in public at a grocery store. I guess there are worse ways to spend an evening.

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Saturday night was spent en la ciudad de Nueva York. New York City. Wow, that’s amazing! Except that could very well be every evening for me, but I choose to be lazy and not go into New York City every night. It’s right there, but it’s oh so far away when my couch and digital cable are oh so close. We started off eating pizza at Lombardi’s, which is a famous place in New York City. That makes sense because it is in New York City. If it was famous in Dallas and not famous in New York City then that would be odd. It, Lombardi’s, claims to have the best pizza in the world or in the city, that being New York City. I can’t remember exactly, but either claim is a mighty one. Many knew of this claim and that is why we waited 45 minutes or so for a table. I must admit the pizza was very good. That makes it sound like I did not want to admit that I liked the pizza. Oh contraire! I will gladly admit that the pizza was great. Easily, admit it. I am more than willing. But was it the best pizza in the city? I don’t know. And in that hesitancy I feel like that answers the question already. It was great pizza. The sauce was great. The cheese was great. The dough was great. The little pepperonis on the pizza I ordered were great. But I did not have a moment of outer body experience or instant reflection where I said this is the greatest pizza I have ever ate on the confines of the island of Manhattan as well as surrounding boroughs the Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens and Staten Island. I am glad I ate there. I am glad I ate there because it was great pizza. I am also glad I ate there so if some know it all tries to out know it all me and say, “have you ever ate the pizza at Lombardi’s?” I can respond “FUCK YOU!” Fuck you, know it all. I could also respond, “yes, I have.”

After Lombardi’s, we ended up at a bar called Mason Dixon. This bar was not named for the Rocky Balboa villain played by professional boxer Antonio Tarver. This bar was seemingly a “southern” themed bar referring to the Mason Dixon line we all remember so well from Middle School history. This meant there was a mechanical bull, wood paneling, and they served sweet tea vodka. I drank no sweet tea vodka, I didn’t ride the bull, but I did admire the wood*. I did drink beers and watch the drunken bull riders though. One friend who was there with me made comment that watching drunks at a bar riding a mechanical bull is a lot like watching Nascar and just waiting for a car wreck. I would have to agree. Generally speaking, a positive outcome for a spectator watching a drunken bull rider can only come about in a limited number of ways. First, there are only two types of bull riders: male and female human. No dogs or any domesticated animals allowed. No actual bulls are allowed to ride mechanical bulls. And no mechanical bulls that have obtained consciousness can ride other mechanical bulls that have yet to make such a transformation as the other. It is purely limited to guys and girls peoples. A girl rider allows for two possible positive bull riding outcomes for the spectator: thrown from the bull in an injuring manner or a boob pops out. If one is really lucky, both can occur. For a male rider, the only positive outcome for me as the spectator is if they get bucked from the mechanical bull in a devastating fashion. Neither a guy or girl got hurt riding the bull from what I saw, which was somewhat disappointing. We did have a boob pop out and a boob almost pop out. So that was good.

Lastly, Sunday, the Sun day, I found myself back in New York City. It was not by accident. I did not wake up there unannounced. I went willingly to see Scott Pilgrim vs. The World in the theaters yet again with a friend. Upon second viewing, I really am disappointed in the people of the world not seeing this movie. I think this is easily the most enjoyable film I’ve seen all year. Followed by The Other Guys. I really did like Inception and enjoyed it a lot. But The Other Guys made me laugh until I wanted to stop laughing because I was tired of laughing meanwhile no other comedy this year provided much laughter. And, from the music to the look to the action to the humor to the storyline to the inventiveness – Scott Pilgrim is head and shoulders above everything else I have seen this year. I will say my favorite portion of the movie is definitely the Clash at Demonhead section and, specifically, the fight with Brandon Routh.

So, what did you do this weekend?

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25 Responses to “Somedays You Just Want To Sleep Them Away”

  1. Lala said

    I had the most exciting weekend ever. Seriously, it was awesome. Ok, not really. Actually I spent it studying and it sucked.

  2. tiffanized said

    I live just below the actual Mason-Dixon line and there is not one motherfucking mechanical bull around here. There is a place that rents a portable one every so often, but you have to subject yourself to country line dancing to get a crack at the bull, and I opt not to do that. On the upside, most of the people around here seem to think the Civil War is still alive and well, and that’s entertainment you just can’t pay for.

    This weekend I spent Friday night with my boyfriend. It feels weird to say that. I tell him that it feels weird to say it, and then he gets pouty because I guess that’s not a great thing to say to someone who considers himself to be your boyfriend. We went to a bar and I did the butt and sang “I Will Survive” with about a dozen bitter, rejected women and one guy who had no teeth in the lower half of his mouth. I thought he shouldn’t have been allowed to sing, not because he was a man, but because I don’t think he’s got much time left among the living. He won’t survive.

    Saturday I took a friend who is nursing a broken heart clubbing. I was trying to get her laid, but all the dudes apparently thought I was trying to get me laid. We went to two bars, then went to what is supposed to be our city’s premier night club. For some reason they were playing “Lolita” on a flat screen TV behind the bar so me and the ominously named bartender Damien started chit-chatting about “Lolita”. He was getting all existential about identifying with a pedophile while popping open Bud Lights for me. Then the DJ came over and needed to show me his equipment* and explain that he’s usually a better DJ but there were a lot of old people there and he had to play shitty music for a while but he’d be really crankin’ around 11:30. This was the most insecure DJ in the history of ever. Then we walked to another bar, stopping not once but twice to pee in some shrubbery. This last bar was populated by hipsters who got entirely too excited when “Don’t Stop Believin'” was played. A dude I nicknamed Vanilla Ice was buying me shot after shot of Jager, which I was surreptitiously handing out to other people while Mr. Ice was confused about why I wasn’t blacking out from all the liquor.

    Yesterday I cried. All day. No idea why, other than I have a vagina and apparently this means every so often I’m going to leak from my face uncontrollably. Not the highlight of the weekend for sure.

    I’m going to go see the Scott Pilgrim movie sometime this week. I kind of want to read the comics first, but that’s probably not going to happen while the movie is still in theaters.

  3. susanelle said

    Oh, I’m so glad to see the return of the scrambled-eggs-with-cheese cooking stories!

    That sounds sarcastic, but it’s not. I love food, and I love stories about it (but not TV shows about it or anybody treating it like a kind of religion).

  4. I was drinking in the city on Saturday night, too. WHAT ARE THE ODDS?! Probably not that crazy. I was at a place called the Frying Pan, which is a pier and a boat and a caboose or something? I don’t know. I was drinking buckets of overpriced Corona outside. No bulls were involved, and sadly I didn’t see anyone get injured. This weekend I played host to some Bostonians. We spent our evenings drinking, and our late mornings eating. They were introduced to the glory of the New Jersey bagel sandwich and enormous diner breakfast. They left changed people. I’d like to think I did Jersey proud.

    So overall, an excellent weekend, which makes this rainy Monday super awesome. It’s depressing the shit out of me. I should man up and quit being such a vageen.

    Quit hating on “me” for not seeing Scott Pilgrim. I have lame friends with bad taste in movies or something.

  5. cledbo said

    Sorry, Jordan, but HB’s bacon and chocolate stuffed bacon had me pulling very stupid faces to stop from laughing embarrassingly in my cubicle.

    I pushed for a Scott Pilgrim vs… viewing yesterday, but Mr Cledbo was having none of it so we saw Inception instead. I will probably have to go see it by myself, *sad panda*. Inception was good though.

    I enjoyed your description of a Jersey morning, as the raininess on the other side of the planet links me to y’all – it’s raining and WINDY today. And was rainy all weekend too, super depressing. On a less depressing note, Mr Cledbo came home after me not seeing him for over 2 months. Absence sure does make the “heart” grow “fonder”.

    Your breakfast totally looks like the Cookie Monster. If he stopped eating cookies and stuffed his face with sub-standard scrambled eggs and some sausage instead.

    Apart from lots of sex, the most exciting thing I did this weekend was vote. Australia doesn’t have a government right now, and my vote was meaningless in my area anyway (I’m surrounded by conservatives, and in case you didn’t notice they are not my people) but avoiding a fine and getting a sausage in a piece of bread off the Scouts was worth the effort.

    • cledbo said

      html fail.

      soz guys.

    • campbelld said

      Weirdly, I voted Libs, cos I like my local member and then he lost. But we don’t have a government. I is confused. And I’m a politics student and people keep asking me what I think and all I can tell them is that the entire thing is retarded.

  6. kt said

    From now I’m following all my “Fuck you”‘s with “ooo,ooo,ooooo”‘s.

    My weekend was sooo boring. I slept. I ate. I worked out. I read stuff. I ate stuff. I bathed my dogs. Lost 3 pounds this week, but then between my friend and I we ate a whole cheesecake on Sunday… so I probably gained 3 pounds after that.

  7. amanda said

    The Other Guys was funny, but mostly in the beginning. the storyline about the guy stealing money or whatever didnt really make sense. like at all.

  8. campbelld said

    Scott Pilgrim is super great. I plan on going to go see it again soon.
    Ohhhh man, I am super attracted to Brie Larson, who plays Envy Adams, btw. That part was so much fun. Also awesome Vegan Police cameo’s by Clifton Collins Jnr and Tom Jane.

  9. MLF said

    “Have a look at this motherfucking beautiful dog xerxes”

    that made this entire post worthwhile. also HB’s bacon stuffed bacon…omg I STILL LOLZING OMG LOLZ LOLZ LOLZ!!!

    the sisterwives, all of you, you guys rock. ps- Tiff’s bf is HAWT. and very nice so official kudos to you for being awesome and having an awesome bf.

    kt- I will come eat cheesecake with you, it will be glorious.

    layla- come see me. I will share my alcohol with you. lord knows I’ve had enough for everyone and their gma right now..oh wait it’s monday night am I not supposed to be drunking? ooops.

    • cledbo said

      I really want to party with you. And not just because your name is a state.

      It would be really weird if we did that in Australia, for all but one of our states. Victoria is a legitimate girls name. Queensland is not.

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