(no subject)
today i did: nothing of value
i woke up at 11-ish
i watched most of clueless
i crossed one item off my list of homework
i made a passable salami/salad/pickles/mustard sandwich
i drank two coffees
i read about two hours worth of mcsweeney's internet tendency: reviews of new food
which is probably my favourite thing in the world at the moment.
"Post-Katrina Twinkies
Submitted by Benjamin Morris
The power was still out, so we threw on the grill a couple of burgers that were just about to go bad along with some canned sprouts and butter beans. Here's a hint: with enough salt and pepper, anything can be awesome. After dinner, on the porch, Jonny asks if I want dessert, which I take to mean another room-temp. Blue Moon. Sure, I say, because there ain't all that much to do after curfew ("dark" here in Hattiesburg) except have another beer and watch the cops go by. And then, like a fist-sized shaft of light from the silenced street lamp above us, a Twinkie plops down on my plate.
Folks, I don't know if you're the kind, but let me tell you: There is no greater experience than the vanilla and crème and lemon-yes, is that a hint of lemon?-state of grace that is a Twinkie, especially under circumstances such as these. I mean, really. There is a reason they stock bomb shelters with these things. Perhaps the only thing more poised to send you hurtling straight into the blissosphere is your friendly after-dinner mint: a Kamel Red Light smuggled in from Pensacola because there are no more smokes in Mississippi, which, hey, will you look at that? "
anyway.
i woke up at 11-ish
i watched most of clueless
i crossed one item off my list of homework
i made a passable salami/salad/pickles/mustard sandwich
i drank two coffees
i read about two hours worth of mcsweeney's internet tendency: reviews of new food
which is probably my favourite thing in the world at the moment.
"Post-Katrina Twinkies
Submitted by Benjamin Morris
The power was still out, so we threw on the grill a couple of burgers that were just about to go bad along with some canned sprouts and butter beans. Here's a hint: with enough salt and pepper, anything can be awesome. After dinner, on the porch, Jonny asks if I want dessert, which I take to mean another room-temp. Blue Moon. Sure, I say, because there ain't all that much to do after curfew ("dark" here in Hattiesburg) except have another beer and watch the cops go by. And then, like a fist-sized shaft of light from the silenced street lamp above us, a Twinkie plops down on my plate.
Folks, I don't know if you're the kind, but let me tell you: There is no greater experience than the vanilla and crème and lemon-yes, is that a hint of lemon?-state of grace that is a Twinkie, especially under circumstances such as these. I mean, really. There is a reason they stock bomb shelters with these things. Perhaps the only thing more poised to send you hurtling straight into the blissosphere is your friendly after-dinner mint: a Kamel Red Light smuggled in from Pensacola because there are no more smokes in Mississippi, which, hey, will you look at that? "
anyway.