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| BLT Salad w/ bacon grease quesadillas |
okay, really what happened was I had a few ideas for posts this weekend but never got around to them. See, Saturday was a birthday party and date night. Thai food and a movie trumped out writing about food. I know, total shocker. After that fantastic dinner and some impromptu couch romancing we decided to go see a movie. It was that odd cusp of too early for sleep and too late to do anything else so we decided to go and see The Tree of Life. Take the post coital guy to see a movie described by the NY Post as "[It's] overflowing with powerful images that will stay with me a long time, even if I still can't explain some of them." which means that not only is it boring but not even snooty long-winded film critics know what the fuck was going on. So I sat through it. Fighting off sleep long enough to catch a velociraptor stepping on anothrer dying dinosaur's head and some some pretty intensely smug Brad Pitt performance. That is, when I wasnt trying to figure out why 5 minutes of whispered dialogue over lava cooling into the ocean and hissing as it turned to rock. I felt like I was really high and watching Nova at my grandparents' house... You don't want to say anything because it's pretty to look at but you're too high to know what the fuck is going on and even if you opened your mouth grandma might figure out you were high so there i sat in stunned silence wondering why anytime there was 5 minutes of cohesive narrative there was some dumb transition into 5 minutes of noises and more whispered dialogue over my MacBook Pro's screen saver. I left feeling traumatized. Do not go see this movie. Really, I tried. I even consider myself to be a pretty smart guy and yet I still felt like an idiot having sat through 2 and 1/2 hours of that movie.
It's only relevant to this blog because i had a passionate love affair with a BLT and it was so intense that we carried our romance from one meal and into the next. I think I'm on 4 days of bacon or pork products in a row. Meatless Monday was ruined by a slow-cooked pork Cuban sandwich with some pretty fantastic ham on there too. Ham and slow cooked pulled-pork on the same sandwich? Genius. Toss on melty cheese and melty onions and I'm forgetting how I did a month off of meat. But I couldn't think after that movie on Saturday night. I didn't get home until almost 2 and all i wanted to do was put my head in someone's lap and cry because my brain hurt so much. I couldn't even make pancakes right when I woke up. my 1 1/2 table spoons of sugar were completely left out and i 1 1/2'd my recipe and didn't have enough butter or milk. God. And I had to go to kickball immediately after brunch. Yes, Kickball. Sunday's are devoted to my favorite adult-coed league sport, Kickball.
Kickball was a blur. I remember that jello shots were a big hit. I had cherry coke with rum, banana with banana and vodka, and banana flavored without banana, and old-fashioned gasoline swill with PGA. I decided it would be worthwhile to take a bottle of J sparking wine and waste it on Mimosas. After that I took the bright idea of morning drunk and I made what by about 4:00pm I referred to as the key elements in creating your own Napalm. Cheap Orange juice, Lots of Blood Orange Sorbet, and enough Pinnacle Vodka to get the prudish chubby girl making dick jokes. After Umping, a game, losing a game, and winning a game I was so drained from 100 degree weather and midday son that we retreated to our Sponsor Damgoode Pies for drinks and food. The food was a blur, but the drinks came in flavors like Jammeson, Car Bomb, Sierra Nevada, push-up, Car bomb, Jack Daniels, and Miller Lite. By the time I made it home and turned my curry seafood into the most bitching scramble a sunburned, blind-drunk miscreant could I was hardly able to consume it while sitting upright. There's two evenings in a row killing my writing groove.
Which leads me to tonight, a painful Monday night spent recovering on my couch. I was so hungry by the time I had my bacon grease fried quesadilla and my BLT salad that I forgot to take pictures. MY hands were moving but I don't know what went into what and in what measurments. I know that I grabbed hand fulls of grated cheese, and cut think slabs of bacon but none of that matters because no one can follow along without pictures.
Tomorrow I promise I'll try and talk about food. Tonight I need to finish my Vodka and Vodka with a splash of tonight and go to bed.
cheers, goodnight, and godspeed to you lovers, fighters, blog-readers, kickball playing heathens, and foodies
PS-- If anyone know Terrence Malick or Brad Pitt please tell them I want a refund. I'd say Sean Penn too but that motherfucker scares the shit out of me.
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