You like warm beverages. You like ink. You wish your morning venti double whip whip iced vanilla-caramel mochaccino could look more bad-ass.
I know I do. I'm always walking to work in the morning all, "This mochaccino is NOT projecting the image i wish to project. I want a mochaccino that says I WILL CUT YOU, MOTHERFUCKER yet also shows that I am environmentally sensitive and supportive of local artisans."
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Sometimes I'm amazed at the brain's ability to retain information. Like this: the last time I studied or spoke any French was my sophomore year of college. That was roughly 12 years ago.* Yet I only had to look up 3 of the 5 words in the post title, and I'm almost 70% sure it says what I want it to say.** Sometimes I amaze even myself. For my next trick, I will keep 15 plates spinning while playing the score to La Traviata on the recorder.
*OH MY GOD. And I'm starting to go white, for real; you don't have ...
Actually, it's not. It's any of these three things, alone or in combination:
Fluffy orange dog (Chester) sleeping on my blanket
Dark chocolate-espresso-hazelnut chewies (cookies)
Lanky sheepdog (Felix) sleeping on a pile of boxer shorts (clean)
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So NBC's canceled The Chopping Block after only 3 episodes, and I can't say I'm sorry. Do you know how hard it was to take that heap of reality show detritus and try doing something with it? It was like trying to move a pile of sand with a sieve, only more futile, and by the way the sand is somehow sentient and spouts meaningless pseudo-sand-philosophy at you while you're working.
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Paula Disbrowe, authoress of Cowgirl Cuisine, likes to give macho cuts of beef - in this case, sirloin - a "pretty, feminine treatment." Because when I think "pretty and feminine" I know I think "nose-burning, palate-numbing Szechuan peppercorns." There are also pink peppercorns, because a feminine dish must be pink, and it's paired with red onion marmalade which is also, you guessed it, pink. (More of a magenta, really. The photo does not do its magenta-ness justice.)
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Also know as "the episode wherein something interesting happens."
Kidding! We have no way of knowing whether anything interesting will happen. In fact, smart money is against it. I'm sure there were some "next week on THE CHOPPING BLOCK..." dramatic clips that foreshadowed the non-events that will occur tonight, but I have no recollection of them. See you in 30 anyway.
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The theme: disembodiment and pastries. There are ceramic baby heads, their soulless eyes imploring you: "Please eat our cupcakes; also, find our irises and corneas." There are kicky ladies' legs wearing gold high heels. If you were in a women's studies Ph.D program, you'd be writing your thesis on this.
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To be upfront: The National Egg Council did not pay me to make this dinner or write this post. But if anyone from the National Egg Council is reading and would like to pay me retroactively, I would be open to that. Just getting that out there.
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I mean, I'm willing to eat some questionnable foodstuffs. But I like to be somewhat prepared before I actually put them in my mouth.
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BRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCE.
Sorry, just had to get that out of the way; Bruce Springsteen is on The Daily Show and I'm from New Jersey so I'm legally obligated to do that whenever I see him. Although I gotta ask, my love of the Springsteen aside, what the hell is that accent? Because as far as I know he's from Freehold, which is located in neither Southwestern Pennsylvania nor the Chesapeake Bay region.
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