WHY IS THAT THERE IS ALWAYS ONE DUDE IN MY (FILM STUDIES) CLASSES THAT IS A COMPLETE ASS WHO EITHER THINKS THAT TELLING RACIST/SEXIST/ANTI-SEMITIC/HOMOPHOBIC JOKES IS OKAY AND MAKES HIM FUNNY BECAUSE HE DOESN'T REALLY ~MEAN~ IT? WHO CONTINUES ACTING THE SAME WAY EVEN THOUGH MULTIPLE PEOPLE HAVE TOLD HIM THAT NO, HE'S REALLY OFFENSIVE. OR, LOUDLY ANNOUNCES TO THE CLASS THAT THERE IS ONLY ONE INTERPRETATION OF A FILM AND IT IS HIS (WHITE, CIS-GENDERED, STRAIGHT, MALE, COLLEGE-EDUCATED) VIEWPOINT THAT IS THE ONLY VALID ONE? WHO IS HALF A STEP AWAY FROM FLAT OUT SAYING "OH LOOK AT THOSE COLORED PEOPLE, THINK THEY CAN MAKE FILMS" WHEN DISCUSSING NIGERIAN CINEMA*
*can I just say how amazing I find Nigerian film makers?
Your film classes remind me of my military history classes, where there were always a couple of guys who thought that their dicks were brilliant tacticians who knew the answers to every question because penis that's why.
Ugh, this reminds me of trying to contribute during ANY class in the Marine Corps, and the inevitable versions of "pshaw, girls don't REALLY understand the MILITARY" bullshit that followed.
Oh lawd, I see that kind of shit on Food Network (as close, unfortunately, as I get to come to a kitchen, le sigh). Which is why I ALWAYS enjoy watching Anne Burrell beat the pants off Robert Irvine. XD
I have a great many big knives, and I know how to use them. Are you SURE you want to be a misogynistic dick in my presence?
(I used to love preparing offal in the middle of these misogynist-dick conversations...mostly because offal occasionally includes testicles, and there's nothing quite like cutting a set of nads in half to punctuate your DO NOT FUCK WITH ME point!)
I've often thought there are parallels between the military and cooking as career tracks - they both demand a hell of a lot of time and effort and discomfort for not much money, and unless you truly love it you tend to get out as soon as you can. They're...not part of the normal world that everyone else lives in, they have their own rules, they demand aggression and fury even when that's not how you'd normally approach any other task. There's an element of sheer perfectionism too - you get driven to do the same thing over and over and over again until it's perfect, unthinking.
Why yes, yes it does. Maybe I should go to culinary school after all. XD
(of course, one of my prevailing daydreams is to get to be a contestant on Hell's Kitchen and be like "what? that's all you've got, Gordon Ramsay? Please, my drill instructors were scarier than you, why don't you take your ass over there, have some tea, and calm the fuck down." XDDD )
You'd probably be very good at it. You certainly have the strength - physical and mental both - to cope. The only real downside is that it's about the least family-friendly job ever invented; you would never get to see your kids or Will. Eighteen hour shift, and then go home and sleep for five hours, and then go back on for another twenty?
Eighty to a hundred hours a week is routine, you may do more. I'm not kidding when I say you have to love it. A lot of chefs are addicts - cocaine, amphetamines, the sort of stuff long haul truck drivers use - just to stay awake.
(And for the record, Hell's Kitchen is toned down a lot for TV. In a real kitchen he'd be slapping people across the face while he swore at them. He'd be chasing them with knives, trying to slash the back of their whites open while they were still wearing them. There would be blood.)
*can I just say how amazing I find Nigerian film makers?
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I think the teacher got a kind of thrill at watching me tear down their "arguments" every time.
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"Go home. You're a chick, you don't understaaaaaand our passion. It is too hard (and probably throbbing) for your puny female mind to comprehend."
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Effing dudes, man.
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(I used to love preparing offal in the middle of these misogynist-dick conversations...mostly because offal occasionally includes testicles, and there's nothing quite like cutting a set of nads in half to punctuate your DO NOT FUCK WITH ME point!)
I've often thought there are parallels between the military and cooking as career tracks - they both demand a hell of a lot of time and effort and discomfort for not much money, and unless you truly love it you tend to get out as soon as you can. They're...not part of the normal world that everyone else lives in, they have their own rules, they demand aggression and fury even when that's not how you'd normally approach any other task. There's an element of sheer perfectionism too - you get driven to do the same thing over and over and over again until it's perfect, unthinking.
Sound familiar?
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(of course, one of my prevailing daydreams is to get to be a contestant on Hell's Kitchen and be like "what? that's all you've got, Gordon Ramsay? Please, my drill instructors were scarier than you, why don't you take your ass over there, have some tea, and calm the fuck down." XDDD )
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Eighty to a hundred hours a week is routine, you may do more. I'm not kidding when I say you have to love it. A lot of chefs are addicts - cocaine, amphetamines, the sort of stuff long haul truck drivers use - just to stay awake.
(And for the record, Hell's Kitchen is toned down a lot for TV. In a real kitchen he'd be slapping people across the face while he swore at them. He'd be chasing them with knives, trying to slash the back of their whites open while they were still wearing them. There would be blood.)
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I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. XD
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Cooking's all I'm good at, and I love it...but getting into it was an utter fluke.
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"awkward flirting" is about the only kind I can manage, so I'm down with this. :D
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I'd probably stand there shifting from foot to foot going "I made you cookies?" because, yeah, I am that awkward.
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