July 23, 2010
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Chopstick Olympics
My lover and I have started and only half-finished a series of two-sided political rants that I wish I could record for posterity, because we are both articulate and pissed off and impoverished. We basically, despite the fact that I am college educated and should have a voice, have only ourselves to console while the world burns. The topic of discussion today was that there should be such a thing as an “Artisan Class” that is somewhere between working class, and that includes people who make their living by actually making things, working with their hands with real skills. More than just nailing shingles to a roof. It would include both plumbers and chefs, seamstresses, electricians, and welders. A mix of both physical skill and mental aptitude.And they, though few and far between, should have their own sociological category. I kind of feel the same way, but they’re down to earth people, usually, and don’t want anything special that will take away from their beer-drinking. He thinks of things in terms of “who will be the first to die if the civilized world suddenly became a seething wasteland”, and I find it disturbingly sexy. This is also the same man who started asking questions about the size of an elephant’s brain when we went to the zoo a couple of months ago. I don’t think the elephant had ever been asked such a question, and could only shake her head to let us hear how resounding the thump was in her enormous skull, and we had our answer.
As a rogue consumer, I’ve been having problems lately. When I go to the grocery store, I always look for the best prices on items. But apparently I don’t read the labels carefully enough. I keep picking up “fat-free” and “Healthy request” versions of foods that I normally buy. I didn’t realize how much of a tragedy this was until I tried making bean burritos. That’s got to be the worst texture ever for a bean. I mean, why the hell would you need to take the fat out of beans? Beans? The leanest source of protein available? What the hell? At least my art-supply collection is shaping up very nicely, thanks to those same skills. I just bought a set of pastels for 2 bucks, and a bunch of color-blending products that the campus bookstore were about to just throw out for pennies on the dollar.
I want to know why no one eats their eggs soft-boiled anymore. It’s been bugging me. And I want hollandaise sauce kind of badly. It’s the simple things in life that get me.
Comments (7)
don’t be shyyy say hi!
oh, hollandaise sauce….
love your background, makes me feel like I’m in the painting, it’s wonderful, Van Gogh right?
reminds me of Paris, this does.
thanks for visiting! [♥]
I found this. I’m not entirely sure why I thought of you while reading it. Perhaps you like humor that comes from bad translations of non-existant television shows. Perhaps I just miss you a lot. I know the last one is definately true. In any case, here’s that weird thing I found. It’s currently below the camera on woot.com
What Part Of “Novela” Don’t You Understand?
And now, today’s episode of the telenovela that has all of Mexico asking “¿Lo que hizo acabas de decir?”… presenting the world’s only automatically translated soap opera, El Corazón Mal Traducido!
COL. VAZQUEZ: You! You have some testicles to go my private chambers! But you have made a final joke, the Raccoon! This revolver is told that you hang from the gallows in the square before breakfast!
EL MAPACHE: I am not here to place you underground, the Colonel, although that could be available before you could rooster that hammer. No, what brings me here is a heart issue. Not come as a murderer, but as a lover.
COL. VAZQUEZ: I must confess I’m flattered, but a man of my height could never touch hands with the most notorious insurgent-
EL MAPACHE: Not you, Colonel! I invade his sanctuary to sniff the rich odor of another rose who resides in this dwelling!
(Burst ANGELICA, the daughter of Colonel pulchritudinous.)
ANGELICA: The Raccoon! You came back to me to take her in his arms, my beautiful stallion!
COL. VAZQUEZ: My daughter? In the arms of this rebel scum? As I die at the point of thousand bayonets to see this disgrace! Make peace with your creator, the Raccoon, for now you die!
EL MAPACHE: No, Colonel! Not that Angelica nor whose loving succor I crave!
ANGELICA: Not?
COL. VAZQUEZ: Not?
EL MAPACHE: Not! True the apple of my affection is the Kodak CD82 Blue 12MP Digital Camera!
ANGELICA: No!
COL. VAZQUEZ: No!
EL MAPACHE: If! I have only to look deeply into its large 3-inch LCD screen! My heart beats only for its sharp resolution 12.4 megapixel! It can detect up to five faces, Colonel – five, you hear me? – but a just and loving God would let me be the only face it sees! If I can not belong to it, your iron to heat and kill me as I’m here to stand!
ANGELICA: My heart! Hurts like a child’s knee skin! Only people who apply the iodine to my heart? Tell me, who?
COL. VAZQUEZ: Disgusting pig of a dog of a filthy Raccoon! You dare to claim their prize Kodak?
EL MAPACHE: I dare, Colonel! I dare all this and yet more!
(Burst GANSITO, a man into a dress goose. Begins to dance.)
GANSITO: Listen, children! Enjoy the delicious new Gansito Double Chocolate! Serve as the company comes after school snack or for fun!
(Everybody dance. Any nothing makes sense.)
Until our next exploit passionate, keep your ears open to the bewildering beat of… El Corazón Mal Traducido!
yea you reallly gotta read some of those labels sometimes, you reallly doo…..
Nice meeting you!
Hope you are having a wonderful day!