Americans,
claude le monde no networks, no nukes, not notcakes
how we do: + you are # |
10:29 am | 03 February 2003 | cooking; cutting; living T. is a culinary wizard. Sunday morning, as i clung to the brink of sanity (on a rope bridge between drunk and sober, swinging in a dangerous breeze which the natives call Ab-Al Blurhg, orDid Not Sleep Saturday Night), he thoughtfully spread Nutella and honey on some sort of white (sourdough? Italian?) bread, and then TOASTED IT ON THE GEORGE FOREMAN GRILL*. Yes, I know. I'll let that sink in for a minute. I mumbled something to the effect of "Goddamn, dude. Only Elvis' comestible genius surpasses this." He nodded sagely. "I know." * He apparently found the Foreman in the trash (from someone moving and throwing out a bunch of stuff), cleaned it up, and brought it home. I'm about 40% "Ew!" and 60% "Yeah, i would totally do that." Apparently at Club Foot on Saturday I frightened one of our friends. It went like this: This is good: "For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin, real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life." unless otherwise noted, all work contained herein is � claudia sherman, 2002-04. |