1 bag of frozen tater tots
1/2 onion diced
3 cloves minced garlic
1 can large black olives, pitted, strained, and diced
2 tbsp. basil pesto
cayenne pepper to taste
1 fuckload (but not too much) butter
lightly saute everything but the tots. veggies should not be completely cooked, just softened.
toss sauteed mixture with frozen tots in large mixing bowl.
evenly distribute in a casserole dish (metal works better than glass). cover with tin foil.
bake for 30 mins at 425. uncover. bake an additional 15 mins (or until desired crustification is achieved)
don't burn your mouth, and devour indiscriminately.
welp. we're here. i was pretty excited on the drive out. there was some drama the night we were supposed to get here, which delayed our arrival until yesterday, so we spent the night in reno. it also put me in a less pleasant space than what i probably should be in. but, it was worked out (ish), so i just need to get over it.
then this morning, mom called to tell me that uncle pete died. i wasn't nearly as close to him as bruce was, but it's still a shock. yet another reminder that none of us are here forever, and something rather opposite a boon to my emotional state. there's still so much in the air. i can't stop trying, that will be the end of it. so i will keep trying. because i have to. but it just doesn't have that thrill of adventure that i was hoping for. it's just a constant oscillation between being awestruck by the fact that i'm here (and here is absolutely amazing, by the way), and mortified that i've made a terrible, terrible mistake.
so, it's great that i'm alone and i'm here and it's super neat. and it's awful at the same time.
i don't know. just keep trucking. that's the main thing.
2013 26 April :: 12.21am
:: Mood: the usual
:: Music: David Bowie - The Next Day
Auschwitz, this one's for you
i don't even know if you bother to read this shit.
hell, i don't even know you bother to do this shit. so, i obviously am not reading yours. so, no. odds are good you won't be reading this.
but, nonetheless, this comic made me think of you. and i hope it helps. i'm somewhat afraid to encroach upon some of the touchy, weight-related subjects. but this seemed important.
WE have body issues. societal cultures and norms and gender constructs, in addition to inferiority complexes and mental and physical shortcomings and inabilities. but we are all people. and people need to get better at being a society that thrives on support of one another as opposed to condemnation of those that are, well, not us.
(my post about modern medicine and society's struggle with death is closely related, but for a later time.)
It was a 4/20 miracle!
So last night on the way home from a party in saranac with my girlfriend, Stacey, I ran out of gas. We were about 2 miles from a gas station, but it was 1 at night and we were in the middle of nowhere (the wrong side of 12 mile and lincoln lake road) so we started walking. I expect Stacey to complain because it is all my fault but she's a fucking trooper and never said a negative word. Anyway, we get maybe a half mile down the road, with me holding out my gas can for everyone who passed us to see, before we see brake lights. Our savior was in a red truck, and his name was Mike. Before we get another half mile, Mike asks if we smoke. We say hell yes, and he passes us a bowl. Stacey starts talking about how lame the party we came from was (we basically all sat around calling people trying to get dope all night) and the guy gives us a little bag with about a gram in it. He gets us to the gas station and back, and our night was a million times better.
the even bigger issue is that you could rack up a $70 tab, after getting a discount, and each person can still only tip 67 cents? c'mon, people. the minimum total tip on that should be at least $10.50, regardless of how awful your experience was. and i suppose that was the joke, them only leaving a $2 tip ... but still, i just get so mad at people who make math harder than it is.
i'm really starting to hope this california thing works out. although, now that i'm finally building some connections in town, it seems kind of stupid. but, it's a once in a lifetime opportunity. i should take it.
and i know what dad thinks, not that he's necessarily right or wrong, but i'm doing it anyway. i just don't have anywhere to put my shit.
shit in one hand and want in the other
see which fills up first.
well, my hands are full, and i'm sick of this shit. time to take matters into my own damn toilet.
i'm sick of shitting in other people's toilets only to have them bitch about the water bill.
time to build my own goddamn toilet.
i want my own goddamn toilet.
i guess what i'm trying to say is that i want the shit on my hands to be on my own terms. because, fuck this shit. and - shitting aside - fucking won't happen on its own. i suppose that means i need to take other matters in my own hands as well.