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Blaggers' Banquet
Increasingly it is is the Bright Young food bloggers that I turn to for restaurant or eating-related information. They're enthusiastic, they're clever, they get about, they know their stuff, and you could argue - I would - that they've reinvented food writing and made it fresh again. They don't write for money: they write because they feel passionately about their subject, and it shows. Also, they're not wedged halfway up their own backsides. Find the London ones here.
Anyway: on Sunday night group of them are running the Blaggers' Banquet at Hawksmoor in Commercial Street. All the food has been blagged, i.e. donated. "Bloggers will be the cooks and the sommeliers, front of house and the prep folk, the kitchen porters and the cleaner uppers. We'll staff the bar, make the cocktails and make the coffee, and best of all you can review us when we are done", says Eat Like a Girl. You can buy your tickets on eBay, here. I'm absolutely dying to go but unfortunately I'll be on the Eurostar coming back from Paris. I hope they do it again soon. More information here.
Busy Bee
The only reason I have time to post right now is that I don't have enough time to start working on something else before I go to bed.
Hilarious Twitter: big_ben_clock ...it goes "BONG" at every hour.
I don't understand why people don't reply to e-mail or Facebook messages. My job involves getting in contact with lots of people, and for some reason people think that if they are contacted (by me, anyway) in an e-mail or Facebook message, they don't need to respond. I don't understand how people can do that. It befuddles me.
I've been so busy that I can't keep track of stuff. I didn't really mind losing my keys, my pen, spare change, etc. When I lost my chapstick. I WAS PISSED.
The ancient Romans would binge and purge during meals just so that they could eat more. They LOVED to eat. And they wanted to be fat.
If I was dating a girl as hot as Shakira, I would not be in college.
I've been noticing that, for some odd reason, my handwriting has been looking a lot like my mom's lately.
I'm listening to my Mozart channel on Pandora radio right now. When I'm typing and an epic part of a song starts playing, I feel like my typing is so important; haha. It's like I'm in a movie or something.
Over and out.
Untitled
Foods that help you stay young! http://ow.ly/BfeB health nutrition fitness youth wellness eating stayingyoung
via Ping.fm
dream, Sat 7/11/09
First part of the dream, I was myself, and living in this odd version of the current house I live in now. Someone had made me this three-piece pendant - a cross, with a monkey face, then beautiful legs of some sort of dragon. It was all burnished gold. I trailed it through the sandpit in the backyard and lost some of it. I found a small, fluffy black cat, who ran from me but let me catch her. She told me, in English, that I was a pretty girl.
I later saw my brother who said that he met the same black cat but that she had told him he was a pretty girl in Greek.
Meeting the black cat meant that we had to head up to the back flat in our backyard. Two men stormed in - one was topless, acne-ridden, very skinny. He was holding a lute. The other man proceeded to tell him that he was wasting his time becoming a professional lutenist, even though he was fantastic. I tried to hide - I merely pretended to be a statue and hid under a massive lampshade as he murdered the lutenist in a nearby bed.
My pendant lost its feet. A girl remade it for me so that it had no monkey face or legs anymore. She said it was better now that it was more simple.
* * *
I was a young boy, fat and always acting up. The community I was in was banned from going outside. I rebelled and rode my bike on the earth mounds. I was to be punished later.
Two women, a man who was supposedly my father and myself were sharing a plate of creamy potatoes and vegetables. We kept shifting food from each others' plates as we kept taking too much of one thing. My father kept cutting up a map so that I wouldn't know where they were.
I hid in carpeted staircases and injured the women. I thought they would see me, but they never did. My father beat me.
Snacks to avoid
Avoid snack foods with the "OH" sound in their names: Doritos, Cheetos, Fritos, Tostitos, Hostess Ho Hos, Etc. —Donna David via link
