ultranow

do i boycott heinz?

because they made this gay ad for their mayo and aired it in england but then pulled the ad after a couple hundred protest phone calls from gay haters and whining by bill o'reilly?

or do i boycott heinz because i'm a vegetarian and "mum" gives his daughter an extra piece of ham?

or do i boycott heinz because the ad's not funny and i don't eat mayonnaise anyway?

conclusion: all i eat by heinz is their organic ketchup and i can't stop because it's the best ketchup ever but i'm going to eat less of it because giving in to anti-gay protestors is ridiculous.

vegfest made my day

on my way to vegfest, i'm waiting for the bus and see a kinda hunky short shaved head guy with a huge backpack and a gym bag and he's holding some book and reading out loud to himself so i figure he's an idiot who never learned to read without moving his lips.  as i pass by him i realize he's reading a bible so i figure he's an idiot who never learned to read the bible without moving his lips.  hey prayer is just dandy but absent a congregation or coven or whatnot, i'm not sure why it needs to be out loud in public.

how does flirting over cake turn into a horrible discovery?

so i go for a walk on christmas eve, or as it's known to jews - december 24th.  i'd eaten dinner already, felt cooped up in my apartment and despite the cold, just needed to get out.  the plan was to hang out with friends on christmas proper.  december 24th was going to be all about digital cable and non-digital food.

so i end up on a popular consumer strip where i knew some places would still be open and i wander into a shop that sold dessert among other things.  i'll treat myself, i figured.  i was absorbed in the cake display and told the clerk i needed more time, eventually asking him, with as much serious as such as a question could allow "do you have any cakes specifically designed for jews on christmas?"  to which he replied "oh, you're jewish?  are all jews as incredibly handsome as you?"  which blindsided me to the max.

i'm not entirely used to compliments out of the blue like that (though of course we all know i'm incredibly handsome, ahem, my body language is one of the most effective deterrents to human contact known to gay man.)  i'm also naturally suspicious, so i say "only those of us who are about to decide how big a tip to leave."  which is an asshole thing to say on my part, but it's what came out.

so he says he's not saying it to get a tip and he doesn't say that to everybody.  so i say "i'm the only jew in the world and i'm the best looking jew."  which gets into bizarre territory as attempted flirts go because it makes no sense and doesn't go with my first response.  so i then pick the strawberry white cake white icing with almonds (which is called a "gateau" on the little card).  i chose it because it looked suitably garish and decadent, especially in terms of the price.  continuing my fumbling, because he is handsome, i point out that gateau means cake, which i told him i figured out from the context.  off-putting body language is looking pretty good in comparison to this exchange.

he's still smiling though when he has me walk around to the register side.  he asks me my name and i say and then he tells me his, which sounds like, let's just say, a wwii related word.  then he goes to the back to get my slice, since he needs to leave the display case one alone for future garishness.

when he comes back i ask him the spelling of his name, because if it was what i thought he'd told me, it would have been a sleight on my person and jewishtacity.  he said, oh not that way it's [such and such spelling.]  we made a little more small talk, then i belatedly thanked him for the compliment and told him i was flattered and he said he was glad he'd at least learned my name and he hoped i stopped by his store again soon.  i felt he was sincere at that moment.  i walked home with my slice and it was good, especially the strawberries.  i thought of potentially better responses like:  "since your shop isn't crowded right now, do you mind if i stand here and flirt with you stupidly for awhile?"  though i don't know if that's really better.

waking up today, i felt good about a guy hitting on me, though i still partially felt maybe it had been for a tip or to fuck with me in some way.  but part of me definitely felt it could have been genuine and maybe i should stop by his shop again after all.  i resolved to talk to my friend about it later [today] and get some advice.  so i go over her place for christmas dinner, or december 25th dinner.  and by the way earlier today, g-d or mother nature or whoever was so cliché because it was snowing on christmas.  whatever.

because his first name was so distinctive, and because i'd learned the spelling since it was a homonym for something horrible so i'd asked, i of course googled him before i left for her apartment.  i found a myspace for a music group he's in, saw his face picture and everything.  so at my friend's apartment, i tell her the whole story up to this point, google him to get his myspace and before i click that, i scan down for other google results.  what i found is after the jump.  and it's not pretty.

ides of december everything at once in my head

• when tv alcohol ads include at the end "drink responsibly" that is a command telling people to drink, albeit responsibly.
• paula deen is not as fucked up as she used to be on home shopping, meaning she seems awake and coherent now.  perhaps previously she was nervous at the possibility of earning thousands of dollars a minute.  now she's fine with it.
• i've become obsessed with home makeover shows. flip this house, sell this house, gayify this house, whatever this house.  and not the kinds with the hunky carpenter know-it-alls.  just the ones with regular folks doing shit with hammers and such.  it's my new food network, but with wood and steel.
• food network needs to stop showing reruns of cooking contests from 2004.  if i'm to become devoted to the results of gingerbread competitions, at least show me the one for 2007, and live to boot.
• how will the writer's strike affect the relaunch of american gladiators and will the lycra to spandex percentage be the same as it was from that show in the 90s, or is it more lycra now, say closer to 15%?
• is hulk's wife filing for divorce just before the launch of his new tv show a publicity ploy to get people to watch american gladiators to see if hulk cries and watch the next season of hogan knows best during which the divorce issue and likely reconciling will be covered?
• why do i think heterosexual pornography is degrading to all concerned but homosexual male pornography is sacrosanct or at least the segment of it that i like?
• why is my life a constant battle between short term frustration and long term goals?
• when am i going to follow my heart and become a full damn fucking buddhist already instead of toying with it?
• oh shit, do buddhists get to swear still?
• can the late night talk shows please start up with fresh episodes again soon (sans writing staff) because without pathetically predictable boring jokes about the presidential candidates, people might start to actually pay attention to the issues, like that a republican jew is running for president.  and they believe in aliens.  they are a cult.  a crazy cult of christianity sent to the earth by alien babies plus they eat babies and have 40 wives and goldfish.  mitt romney is a republican jew set out to destroy this country.
• i mean mormon.  whoops.  and mormons don't drink coffee or alcohol so they can't be president anyway.
• and jews can't be president because, well, you know why.

wrongwrong: a directory of horrible things

• pumpkin porn
• pumpkin pie vodka
• holy sh*t

can star trek iv (or greenpeace) please stop this from happening?

massive whaling expedition (i.e. whale murder)

does not taste good with milk

death cake at heretic saint.  for reals.

living

i've been so focused on thinking about what i want to do for a living, i haven't thought about where.  and it turns out, looking backward, where has always been the most important.  my priorities are for sure changing.  i've gone from so happy to be earning a better living than i had in the past (with some reasonable savings finally) to knowing that money isn't enough, that money can't override a lack of satisfaction.  but then watching roseanne reruns where she amusingly hates every damn job and boss she ever has (except tellingly when she, jackie, their mom and nancy open the diner) has sent me a message that maybe just maybe life outside of work can make work worth it.  now i don't have kids to support.  i have me.  and being a safety net for people i love.  beyond that i'm eating a cold burrito right now because i'm so tired from being bored at work i don't have the energy to heat it up.

natural and unnatural

it's raining on hempfest right now, meaning puget sound is about to become a giant tie-dye slick, which shall create a world of greasy, rainbow seagulls and greasy, rainbow killer whales.

p.s. reports are that minnie driver was shopping at my natural food co-op yesterday.  though not in town for hempfest, she was part of a band playing at the crocodile.  discretion prevented the checkout clerk from asking her about her latest movie project, as obviously she has none of note, except maybe in england but i don't live there.

catch-up post

i've definitely not been posting as much lately.  at first i thought it was because of blog block.  then having nothing to say about the world, which would be called more generally world block.  but since i always have something to say about just i everything, i ultimately realized it's just been because i've been devoting my energies elsewhere - shopping, social life, netflix, career.  so i don't lose the "now" in ultranow, i am giving my blog a promise ring to keep it fed, and you all too.   the promise ring is made of tinfoil, because i'm cheap, or at least am again after all the shopping i've been doing.  here's some stuff that's been stuck in my brain.

• the lindsay lohan "it's not mine!" excuse around the cocaine in her pocket is infinitely implausible.  since when has she done anyone a favor?  plus this guy in line at a safeway i bought vinegar and a protein bar at said to what i reasoned was his aa buddy that the holding it for someone else deal is totally 6th grade.  then he tried to flirt with this woman by saying her dove bar looked good.  she tried to unflirt with him by denying his existence.
• whoopi goldberg is a horrible choice for the view.  she hasn't made me laugh since the color purple.  shoulda gone with kathy griffin, babs.  whoopi will never get the youtube hits needed to to to...what do youtube hits do?
• i'm going to take some graphic design classes at night because that's what night is for because day is for work.  i'm totally going bilberry, blueberry and carrot-tastic so my eyes don't fry.  when you get older, your lenses get stiffer so it's harder to transition from near to far and back.  it can cause strain.  and i'm oooollllllldddddd.  though i'm still generation x.  that won't ever change.  now i'm mid to late 30s is all.  still have time to be the next grandma moses.  plus phyllis diller didn't start comedy until 37, or at least didn't get paid for it until then.
• in the back of my head, i think i read somewhere that there is going to be a new fame movie but i'm scared to try to confirm it.  fame is nothing without gene anthony ray, so they shouldn't fucking bother.  you just know an american idol castoff will be cast and ruin it.
• ratatouille is a fine movie, if you like excellent animation, tight action, hordes of rats which when swarming are rather nauseating but when in small groups or as individuals are serviceably cute, and about 40 different morals jammed into the mix.  for my book, that's 41 too many.  i think i'm going to get a beta.  need some life in this apartment, beyond the judy blume books i've been taking out of the library.  did i ever mention i dream of being a children's book author, or more specifically a published children's book author, or more specifically judy blume or roald dahl or judy dahl or i guess me because they can't write what i write either.  although i swear i would've come up with a book called fudge-a-mania too, just like judy did.

hungry hungry mike farrell

i emphasize seattle is not the hotbed of celebrity gossip...until now!!!  b.j. himself was recently spotted at a whole foods purchasing a slice of vegan chocolate mousse cake.  when i think of how many vegans had to die to make that cake, i shiver.  all the individual slices were gone so the bakery worker cut up a cake that was supposed to be sold as whole.  mr. farrell, who busies himself with anti-death penalty protests and cashing residual checks, promptly adjourned to the store patio and "devoured" the slice.  i can only imagine what he did on his progressive vegan sugar high.  splurge on organic cotton sheets?  perhaps!!!

if you're wondering if whole foods vegan chocolate mousse cake is good, the word is if you're a vegan, it's the best thing ever.  if you're not a vegan, it's as dry as anna nicole smith's present day vag.

this isn't the first time a celebrity has been spotted at whole foods.

oh, and since i'm on the topic of mike farrell and food, after the jump is a mike farrell sandwich.

banana truth banana lies

so this little kid (i'd say boy but why does gender always have to be a subject?) was at the food co-op with his parent (i'd say mom but who knows who she was) and the produce person, oh fuck it, the produce guy gives the boy a banana but warns him it's partially cut so be careful not to let it fall. the mom type says he should balance it, eat it quick, all that jazz, and he tries to comply but half ends up on the floor. she swoops in immediately and tells him that it's not a tragedy and he still has half the banana left and life goes on.

i swoop in and scream at her that she's a liar and that the world really does come to an end when something falls or fails or is pulled away or made unavailable or destroyed or ruined, especially when it was just in your hand, and that she should be arrested for spreading such lies to youth as life goes on.

or actually while it occured to me to do so, i resisted my own swooping in with negativity, but did realize that nobody ever told me what she did when i was a kid or really much as an adult. when i first hear things that are unfamiliar, they seem inherently wrong and dangerous. like gay marriage must seem to idiots. i'm wrong and they are wrong. life does go on. but just to be sure, i brought a bunch of bananas home and ate one up without dropping a bit. life goes on that way too.

i call bullshit on tomatoes

i finally figured out why i'll get a bunch of on the vine tomatoes and they never taste as good as they smell (unless it's in the heart of tomato season).  it's because i'm smelling the vine, not the actual tomatoes.  picking them up scratches off some pieces of that little raised fuzz on the vine itself for which i'm sure there's a fancy botanical name.  once that smell is released i'm hooked, only to ultimately be disappointed because i don't actually eat the vine.  i'm sure awareness of this principal of semi-false advertising can be made visible regarding other things in life that i'm hooked on but ultimately disappointed about.  like, oh i don't know, money?

tonight was the longest 15 minutes of my life

going to a bar isn't fun when you don't drink, don't smoke, don't want casual sex, don't know anyone, don't like superloud music no matter how good it is, don't yearn to spy peepees in the terlet, don't seek male prost companionship, don't play pool and most of all are not into a constantly on the move and therefore unavoidable objectively ugly man in a yellow and blue wrestling singlet, hiking sneakershoes, black socks and a fannypack slung across his shoulder as if a purse, drinking a bottomless margarita while manually self-fluffing.  i said one word tonight at that pit, or rather mouthed it to the bartender:  water.  if only i'd said it wa-wa-water, then i'd have bonded with someone (i.e. dead annie sullivan - helen keller's teacher of wa-wa-water fame).

a yoga class is looking pretty good about now.  i am officially not a barfella, though i never was but could still manage a decent enough time to justify it.  i'm actually just seeking conversation and potential new friendships.  admittedly, a bar may not be the best tack.  but then again, maybe a yoga class wouldn't either.  i genuinely don't know what to do.  yes i do.  time for sprouted grain bread and cultured butter and carob soy milk.

bazooka jew

25 years ago i was still in hebrew school (tuesdays and thursdays 4-6pm) and i would have been able to read this, not just sound it out, but translate it halfway decently.  now i don't know what it says, but i do remember when i read a hebrew bazooka joe way back then it still wasn't funny (not even as funny as an english bazooka joe comic).

here i do recognize the word shul, meaning synagogue.  and phonetically the word after shul may be discotheque, but that can't be right.  i'll just make it up then.

starting from the top left right, eyepatch kid says:  "i totally am not monotheistic like at all and i hate shul."

blue jew with sideburns and mini-mohawk says: "i see.  look deep into this bowl and therin you will find the mysteries of the universe" or okay he doesn't say that because there's no word bubble but it's what he's thinking.

eyepatch kid says: "all i can see in there are some empy bazooka joe wrappers as if to taunt me with their cheap quick sweetness yet have no payoff inside such as afforded by a visit to one's local discotheque."

blue jew says: "candy is only for those boys who believe in one g-d, beeyatch.  snap!"

or something like that.

le petite chocolate morte

since i started bodybuilding in december i've been doing lots of show me the whey, which is the clever name for my natural food co-op's whey protein powder.  today i accidentally bought the chocolate flavor and i say accidentally because technically i'm allergic to chocolate, or at least i have been since the mid '80s.  don't know why it kicked in then unless it was some biofeedback deal where i discovered it gave me a method to be hyper and agitated and have my parents blame it on chocolate instead of their horrible parenting.  it was the chocolate talking.  but i also would get hives and have trouble sleeping.  i've always figured maybe it was the caffeine in the chocolate, not just the chocolate itself.  but i really don't officially know.

well i just gave a big bag of change to a panhandler today not because i'm super generous but because the coinstar machine at the grocery store was broken.  okay i didn't have to give her the whole bag so maybe i am a bit generous.  she gave me a hug.  i apologized in advance for the possibility of some canadian coins.  i didn't apologize for the lack of quarters.  i cried a little after because i really needed a hug today and even though it hurts to admit that it would hurt worse to not admit it. 

i realized it was the chocolate flavor only after i cracked the lid and since every few years i like to test if my allergy is still with me now is the time.  especially because it was 18 bucks and i can't just toss it after today's change giveaway.  at least i'll get good protein out of it tonight and i was getting a bit sick of the vanilla.  i've heard of allergies disappearing over time.  hope.  hope.  body chemistry can change.  hope.  hope.   i have outlets for my emotions now i didn't have even when i last tested this - the infamous organic ben & jerry's chocolate chunk turtle tracks bananas foster jubilee something or other experience of 2004.  i ate the whole thing.  i was still allergic.  hives still.  and i don't even like ice cream but i picked it because it seemed most decadent.

so just one scoop of the powder tonight.  18g of pure whey protein.  dutch cocoa halfway down the ingredient list.  i'll see how i do.  positive thinking.  no hives please.  pull for me on this one because with chocolate back in my life i could get some of those love chemicals flowing which would be so nice.

"i'm screwed" is so how i want to end this post but that's not positive thinking. how about "even if i prove to still be allergic, it doesn't mean i'll alway be." or maybe "even if i prove to still be allergic, my digestive enzymes supplement would kick the allergens' ass right quick."

i'm not allergic anymore.  i think.

why did this ever exist?

i know this doesn't say what i thought it said when i first saw it but it still messes with my head

why i hate the rachael ray show without having seen it

i hate her 1/2 hour shows on food network so the new hour long show debuting monday means i will hate it twice as much.  30 minute meals and $40 a day?  how have either of those shows/measurements illustrated skill and aplomb?  with 30 minutes and $40 i could cook 80 pounds of organic oatmeal, feeding an army of hippies.

she's on oprah's payroll, since harpo productions is the force behind the rachael ray show.  thus answering the question "what would jesus produce?"

the woman doesn't know how to frown, thereby nullifying the phrase turn that frown upside down because she won't ever frown in the first place which i so don't trust.

her catchword is "yum-o", which in addition to being the hypnotic snare that grabbed "o"prah's money, is a brown showers loving clown from kentucky i once dated.  he'd do anything in bed, except squeeze the charmin, if you know what i mean.

she has her own brand of knives because she invented knives so of course she should have a knife because she invented sharpness and should profit from sharpness and edges and metal.

after joanie ditched chachi, she changed her name to rachael, took up cooking and ingratiatingness and now we all have to suffer for it.  can't wait for her first interview with elie wiesel.

rachael: "so, elie, about the holocaust, get some good grub in those camps, didya?"

elie:  "maggot infested stale bread and hepatitis pisswater, rachael."

rachael:  "give me some adult contemporary tunes, a comfy pair of jammies, swiss miss cocoa and a bus token and i'm set!  let the good times roll, i always say."

elie:  "i'm here to talk about darfur."

rachael: "yum-o!"

introducing the mel gibson

what better way to close/start a bigots 'r us meeting than with a round of mel gibsons?  just as instyle magazine gives us the skinny on celeb handbags, i'm here to divulge the mel gibson mixology (the difference being a handbag has never hurt my feelings - just my eyes).

the mel gibson
(make 5 to serve 1)

2 oz. bud light
2 oz. goldschlager
1 oz. float of peppermint schnapps
orange wedge wrapped in bacon stuck with swastika swizzle stick
pink umbrella on fire

p.s. actually a handbag has hurt my feelings before.  a little.

beefcake cheesecake meatcake

translates as "so you do not go bathing..." which says to me "wear our duds and you'll be so busy looking sexy and having sexy sex you won't ever swim."  a more effective ad communicating the same point would have featured a nude model.  not more effective in selling swimwear.  more effective on me.

even the pair of olives are siberia-sized.  siberia is bigger than texas y'all.

look closely.  this meat is cake and this cake is meat.  plus mashed potatoes and ketchup.  taste bud cognitive dissonance.

mysterious pornographic symbolism

i can easily ascertain the giant candle symbolism, and not just because i've read henry miller where candle insertions happen on a regular basis.  i can even extrapolate the meaning of the apples, despite there being three.  but the popcorn?  what the hell with the popcorn?  maybe the popcorn action after the jump can provide a clue and you can fill me in.

mad egg love

edith "egg lady" massey's favoritest songest ever plus bonus eggness.

secret shopper

smooth calves.  smooth arms.  dark aqua and burnt orange identical abstract blocky tattoos on both triceps.  shopping for natural food alone.  square slabs of chest muscle hard and angular.  shirt loose over stomach.  shopping for natural food.  not alone.  woman in summer dress following him now.  she says to him "why are you following me?" which is ironic and flirty.  this is the first impossibility.  he is involved.

bag of kitty litter.  this is the second impossibility.  i am allergic.

though he is strong and healthy and smiley and scruffy and active if i were to touch him he would break in seven which means in two times two times two which equals eight and then one part of him would dissolve/crack from my sick touch.  this is the third impossibility.  my negative thinking regarding romancelovesextogetherness.

i place my minimal groceries on the gray black conveyor belt that does not need to be gray black but should be pink.  lucille ball could eat pounds of comedy chocolate.  organic chocolate impulse items she would have wretched.  she was a horror though i thank her and desi for producing star trek.  my groceries sit on the belt as the card of the person in front of me is declined.  today all my raw food and packaged food is yellow or red.  some days everything is green and orange.  mr. impossible is there now.  behind me.  alone.  perfect except for the impossibilities that multiply each other to zero times three.  he starts to reach for a light gray plastic piece that separates the batches of groceries.  i am closer so i get one first and put it behind my food.

silence stretches out the moment.  i say "you can put one too, like if your groceries really hate my groceries" then he says "boundaries are very important" and his girlfriend arrives and offers no secrets as to her ability to hold onto this man.  two cans of butter beans.  two chicken breasts.  two bottles of wine.  something olive pimento pickle caper like in a jar.  meal for two.  one bottle of wine for them.  one for the party tomorrow night i imagine.  come sunday they will watch the pride parade as they watch fireworks.  from their balcony a mile away.

as i sign my credit card slip, he asks the clerk if the conveyor belt can take the weight of the kitty litter.  the clerk chides "yes" and "c'mon, you can lift it" because he is bringing up the conveyor belt capacity because he is joking that he doesn't want to lift the bag again.  grocery store clerks talk to people in snippets all day long.  i do not talk to people all day long.  some days i rarely talk to people at all because some people are men and some men are mean.  boundaries are very important.  especially tearing them down.  gently.

speaking of

can i borrow $10,000? cause i really want to buy picard's pants. 

speaking of picard's pants, here's a ytmnd pulled from that next generation episode where picard's dna reverts to pubescent.  pubescent is a horrible word.  more horrible than oprahescent, yet not quite as horrible as schwartzeneggerescent.

speaking of oprah, i saw the legends ball behind the scenes special, or a quarter of it, cause i love that christine show with julia louis-dryfus, plus there's only so much gayle king oprah winfrey lesbian tension my tv set can take.  and  can someone explain to me why mariah carey, who is worth at least a quarter billion, would get excited over the gift of diamond earrings?  unless she was happy she didn't have to buy a present for her podiatrist anymore.

speaking of lesbian tension, last night i was trapped on a bus right after the seattle storm game let out.  seattle storm = wnba = lesbians = one damn loud bus full of women with short hair scowling at me because i have a shaved head and they were jealous and hateful because they can't shave their heads like they want because they'd get fired from their jobs as investment bankers.  this is not a cheap shot.  this is true.

speaking of cheap shots, my friend's boyfriend said that you can always tell it's seattle storm season when all the hot dog stands outside of key arena disappear, cause of you know the whole phallic thing.  he says they should be replaced with taco stands, which is the cheap negative beyond cheap shot.  so i says to him i says, no they should replace them with stands selling letter v jell-o molds.  nothing misogynistic about jell-o.

speaking of letter v jell-o molds, i just know bill cosby is eating pussy right now.  he's wearing a sweater and eating pussy while that tacky yet somehow not campy old navy madras commercial is blaring.

speaking of commercials sparkle, glitter, twinkle, shimmer and if you don't infomercial hostess kathy mitchell will slit your throat while you sleep.

the world's smallest milking machine

to bar or not to bar

i'm digging my new juicer. it's splendiferous which means good in pretentious vintage gay. the broccoli carrot apple ginger was like brrrzapzingyum. the beet carrot apple double ginger was like whoadamnhellbam. so why would i consider chasing that by going to a bar which for me is generally yawnloudzilchwhy? perhaps i could justify attending bar services as a sociological experiment / new tv show: what happens when 1 self-hating, lonely, sad, queer jew who talks and thinks too much and has let himself go almost to the point of no return more times than he can count is put in a room with 57 rotating strangers all of whom are seemingly keeping it real but really are keeping it fake but they have penises? what will ensue? silence? pointless niceties? shrugging? in depth conversations about drool and cocktail onions? boot admiration? toilet stalking? watching drunk pool? exposed nipples? or simply absolutely utterly zero gravity nothingness emptiness invisibility?

i'm still not sure if i will bar or not bar tonight. perhaps i'll do 1500 meters on my concept 2 rower, take a hot bath, finish off that pint of carob mint soy delicious, and sleep on it until 8am.

when nerds dream of electric cantaloupe

so i'm walking in my neighborhood and this other guy is walking and i realize i'm supposed to be teaching him how to flirt with men so on cue this third guy is there and he's handsome and friendly looking and wearing a jacket with those suede patches on the elbows like it's 1982 and all is right with the world. so i direct my protégé to start with the flirting and he says hello and what do you do and the guy says i'm a bankruptcy attorney and my protégé says that's nice and keeps walking but the new guy who is apparently french of some sort keeps walking but not with my protégé so i say to the french guy can you repeat yourself? say what you do for a living again? but he doesn't so i say i'll do the line myself. what do you do for a living? i'm a bankruptcy attorney. and then i brighten my face wide-eyed and open and say that's incredible because i'm bankrupt...emotionally!

cuh yute

too short a bus ride to bother putting on my headphones and mp3ing since i'm way overdo to switch out the songs anyway (yay 512MB limit!) so i was stuck with the music of my fellow bus travelers, all of whom were objectively awful human beings. behind me was an exuberant cellphoner who automatically got bonus points for not gushing "i'm on the bus right now!" what he in fact said was "i've got a calve's liver and i'm going to go home and cook it up and [insert his attemptedly funny pretend french chef banter which made me think how i will always miss julia childs because she cooked french but didn't try to talk in some frenchie-poo voice]."

then he has to overenunciate "calve's" 40 times because i think the plural possessive confused whoever was on the other end of the line because it was the wrong usage unless he'd bought more than one to eat in a sitting which is extreme. he likely should have said "calf's" or simply "calf" liver.

satisfied he'd been understood, he moved on to the joke he'd spent hours coming up with: "i was going to buy a lamb's heart too but i don't think i can eat that much cute." after which he was at his stop and walked past my seat enabling me to see that, lo and behold, he was wearing a beret. now that's commitment to a bit. still i'm 90% sure there was nobody on the other end of his cell.

p.s. i can eat that much cute and i don't mean lamb's heart.  i do mean cupid ass.

ulti-meat vs ulti-meat

my sweet little...

i was trapped on the bus while a guy on cellphone was having a possibly fake definitely loud conversation. not fake as in insincere. fake as in no one on the other end of the line. which from the involuntary eavesdropper's point of view is irrelevant. so he says to whoever or nobody "that woman is one fine vegetable!"

what is the sexiest vegetable then? first thought is tomato, but as everyone discovers at some point in their life, a tomato is in fact botanically a fruit, specifically a type of berry. so perhaps a red bliss potato? that sounds pretty damn sexy. except for the potato part. try again. my sweet little...pigeon pea? okra? celeriac? beet? bok choy? yam? rhubarb? no.

eureka.  my sweet little...lotus root!  yes it's a vegetable.  and yes it's one fine vegetable.

damn don knotts

don knotts is dead which while that's sad or at least supposed to be sad it just brings back memories of anger because the apple dumpling gang, in which he played a bumbling thief along with tim conway, did not contain any apple dumplings. i went to the movie theater and in fact did not receive dumplings of any variety, including the aforementioned apple. all i got was a movie with stuff that happened. my little kid taste buds and stomach suffered and i will never forget. though don knotts' bug eyes were likely edible and tender, they could never have satisfied me as could have an apple dumpling.

453 grams of german fun

too jewish for the room

• this evening at my natural foods co-op deli counter they were selling "potato pancakes (latkes)".   meaning the little card by them read "potato pancakes" with "(latkes)" written below.  i asked for a couple of latkes and suggested that they switch the card to put latkes on top and potato pancakes below in parantheses so it was jewishcentric since it is a jewish food.  the lady just stared at me unblinking like i'd suggested she marry her dog.  something i'd never suggest because i heard her dog is jewish and she's obviously not.
• did everything perfectly so far today except for one thing.  so the day is ruined.
• was really tired from work and walked all the way home uphill instead of taking the bus, thereby exhausting myself further for no good reason.
• went back to being a non-vegetarian after my 2 week foray back into the vegetarian "lifestyle" all because some organic chicken marsala frozen dinner was on sale.  well, still no red meat (haven't eaten that in 11 years anyway), no pork (because of the movie babe and because i'm awful at cooking it), and no deer, snake, shark, rhino, ostrich or muppet. just organic, free-range, hormone free (yet still dead) chicken muscle.  chicken + sale + broken promise to self + slight anti-semitic self-hatred = jewish.
• only person in america still watching living with fran.
• don't understand the uproar about hummus winning some elections in palestine or wherever.  who doesn't like hummus?  we should all be so lucky to be led by hummus.
• would have picked up a penny off the ground if i had seen one.  and i looked, believe me.
• will take an epsom salts, lavender essential oil, and matzoh ball bath later tonight.

back off, naomi

naomi judd wants you to "replace 2 of your daily meals with a serving of post healthy classics cereal, 1/2 cup fat-free milk and fruit" and "focus on portion control at mealtimes and enjoy a balanced third meal" and "add more physical activities into your day". she's homespun hawking kraft's "3 step lifestyle plan" for all amerikans. no fucking thank you naomi. i'm too busy eating way healthier food than whatever kraft can stuff in a box. besides which the closest i've come to death so far knock on wood is from swallowing not soaked long enough in rice milk grapenuts too fast then trying to get them to go all the way down by drinking water which made them blow up in my esophagus like a hard crispy balloon cutting off my air supply and forcing me to save my own life by reaching down my gullet and pulling out soggy hard grapenuts clumps until i could gasp for breath and utter the words of a survivor: "fuck grapenuts!" did i mention grapenuts are her favorite?

now i love the word life and i love the word style but i hate the word lifestyle so her trying to sell me some cereal lifestyle plan really really doesn't work. really. and separate from her kraft spokesmom deal, naomi's pushing her own book "naomi's breakthrough guide, 20 choices to transform your life" over on naomijudd.com. so which is it naomi, 3 steps or 20 choices? whichever it is stop telling me what to do.

lot of rage at naomi, right? clearly i'm projecting. but about what? stay tuned. it must be something. i can't be that focused in my hatred of naomi. oh wait yes i can. now i remember that when she was a judge on star search (the arsenio hall hosted version) she spewed out "you're such a great tap dancer for a white man." lovely naomi. no wonder your kids hate you most of the time.

despite being about love this post has nothing to do with fabio

thank goodness for jockohomo's best singles of 2005 playlist. now my friend will have something to listen to while the dentist rips her teeth out friday. this is the same friend that is slated to make yet another wedding cake for a friend's wedding, thereby forcing everyone else to the dentist soon enough. i don't use the word wedding a lot. is wedding a verb or a noun? normally i would be anti-wedding because of how it's illegal for u.s. same sexers, but the couple getting married is quite unusual and it will be a retro '50s thing so how could i miss it? perhaps as a present i'll say a donation has been made in your name to equal rights washington to support marriage rights for the gays. but whatever that wedding's like i know the cake making will be a drama again. last one she well overestimated the number of carpal tunnel syndrome inducing little purple flowers the cake would need and made a thousand too many. that's a thousand extra little tinky winky anuses. i've encouraged her to use an abacus and aerial cake photography for this next cake so she makes only what's necessary.

as for my wedding (for which there is no man yet but there will be - i mean how am i supposed to get married without a man, hello!?), i've decided in advance about the cake. cakes actually. first there will be the pure function cake: a huge ugly organic sugar free "cake" for 50 that she doesn't have to have anything to do with. then as her project, there will be the pure form cake. it can be made out of styrofoam, asbestos, cotton, spraypaint, pipe cleaners, used dildos, used picassos - whatever it takes to create her vision of queer marriage beauty. by separating form and function, there won't be the stress, drama and difficulty of her having to work with tricky persnickity edible ingredients. hell it can be photoshop cake for all i care. just as long as it's beautiful and (hopefully) permanent. as beautiful and (hopefully) permanent as tyra's merciful catwalk retirement. and, okay, as beautiful and (absolutely) permanent as fabio's hold on my heart. yes i said it.

laloo's ice cream packaging is beautiful

$6.99 a pint might be worthwhile just so i could stare at this hypnotic packaging all day long in 3D. no matter that i don't eat ice cream or drink goat tit juice.

tuesday night to do list

• eat organic hormone free turkey meatloaf
• eat organic mashed parsnips and celery
• eat a bucket of hormones and toxins
• put vegan pumpkin pie in the oven
• mull over the likelihood of will getting partnered by the spring series finale of "will & grace" (i just accidentally typed "will in grace" which is a different show) and if he doesn't if nbc will be fagbombed or if anyone will even notice
• watch "the curse of the jade scorpion" because an assumedly mediocre woody allen movie is still better than 90% of the movies in existence
• eat as much vegan pumpkin pie as possible
• pass out
• wake up at 3am and eat more pie
• if pie is all gone imagine pie and eat my imagination
• buy underwear online (new not skanky personalized underwear from ebay)
• sleep soundly
• wake up screaming

absolute truth

at 3:30am i was eating these transfat free "wholesome & delicious" snack miracles (the whole bag minus one) watching gabrielle union on a conan o'brien rerun because i don't have...