Banana pancakes
Food, Music, Photos | July 25, 2010
The Food
Breakfast yesterday morning, inspired by Jack Johnson. Om nom nom nom.
The Song
Jack Johnson is better live than on his album, in my opinion. I used to think his music only appealed to surfers or people who lie in a hammock drinking coconut juice and getting high in Hawaii — I own neither a surfboard nor a hammock, and I’ve never been to Hawaii — but I’m glad to be proven wrong.
The Phrase
I feel like “banana pancakes” could easily become the most versatile phrase in the English language.
Insult: Your face looks like soggy banana pancakes.
Interjection: Banana pancakes! Or: Holy banana pancakes! (Use it in any situation, from stubbing your toe to falling off your unicycle to winning a thousand million billion dollars to finding out your new boyfriend is actually a 43-year-old hermaphrodite who collects moldy sandwiches — which, no no no, I’m not saying from personal experience. Don’t get the wrong idea.)
Indignation: What the banana pancakes is wrong with you?!
Inquiry: Banana pancakes? (Use as a substitute for “What?” or “Wtf?” or “Capisce?” or maybe even “Would you like a hot dog?” except the last one might confuse people.)
Intensification: That dress is banana pancakes gorgeous. Or: It’s raining banana pancakes.
See? Banana pancakes useful! Now you’re banana pancakes smarter.
Meg makes flatbread, destroys kitchen
Food, Photos | July 22, 2010
Half of that title is a lie. Guess which part’s true? No, not the second half. Wow, I’m glad you have so much faith in me and my cooking abilities. Truth be told, I only added the latter part to lure in all you visitors who hold intense sentiments of schadenfreude and would die to see me blow up my kitchen. If you’re one of those people, you can stop reading now.
Still here? That first paragraph was obviously not a filler for the better introduction that I can’t write…obviously. I don’t use such plebeian tactics. Or maybe the title and intro are brilliant, since I got you reading, didn’t I? And no, I am not a liar. Or a crook. Or Richard Nixon. I’m only temporarily trying out the effectiveness of false advertising.
Still here? You get two different recipes and pictures of the flatbread-making process as a reward (see, reading is good! I’m encouraging literacy!):
Bad parking jobs, bad movies, and even worse gelati hurt my daughter/cousin’s feelings
Books, Food, Photos, TV & Movies, Thoughts | July 10, 2010
Most spectacular parking job I’ve seen in quite a while:
Upon closer inspection, I saw the “FOR SALE” sign in the rear windshield. So I guess it wasn’t really a parking job; it was a “oh, I’m going to randomly sell my car in a random parking lot and take up lots of space so people will notice” job. Still, was it necessary to make use of FOUR parking spots? You don’t steal valuable movie theater parking spots on a Friday night, contributing to the fullness of the lot and making moviegoers park in front of Walmart instead. You just don’t.
Unsurprisingly, my friends and I aren’t the only ones who think so, as evidenced by the note we saw on the front windshield:
Bwahahahaha. “…You hurt my daughter/cousin’s feelings. FUCK YOUR ‘FOR-SALE’ SIGN! I NEED A PARKING SPOT.” Most spectacular note I’ve seen in a while.
If you’re wondering what movie we saw, it was Splice, the most spectacularly disturbing movie I’ve seen in a while. Highlight for spoilers: People playing God? Incest? Abuse? Voyeurism? Bestiality? Killing a poor, innocent, ADORABLE CAT? All in one movie?
Parts of the movie were hilarious, though, I’ll give it that, even if I’m not sure they were hilarious by intention.
The part that keeps infiltrating my thoughts hours after the movie is the part where the protagonists talk about right and wrong and crossing the line between them. Where is that line, and which lines do we not cross? This subject has come up in the books I’ve read (mainly The Little Girl and The Cigarette by Benoit Duteurtre) and the TV shows (mainly Lie to Me) I’ve watched this week, and I just cannot stop thinking about it. Where’s the line between legislation that protects people and laws that exercise excessive control over people’s lives, as the world in Duteurtre’s book perhaps crosses by making cigarettes illegal nearly everywhere? Is there a line between good deception and bad deception, both of which Lie to Me deals with in nearly every episode? Where’s the line between caring and prying? Between learning and finding out information we just shouldn’t know? Between attaining a healthy degree of control and messing with others’ lives? Is it the intentions? Are intentions ever clear?
Mind-boggling.
I’ll leave you all with an important public service announcement (and I hope you know by now that by “public service announcement” I really always mean “my opinions that I think are important but you probably don’t and maybe disagree but shouldn’t because my tastes are far superior to yours but not really”): Rita’s = spectacularly disgusting. Especially the gelati, which is nothing like gelato. Maybe that’s where it goes wrong in the first place. But really, custard that tastes like plastic combined with piña colada slush that tastes like how I imagine window cleaner to taste? No thanks. That really hurts my daughter/cousin’s feelings. In a spectacular way.