Okay, we’re going to give this bad boy a go tonight. The first ep was kinda interesting, like a Top Chef-Apprentice Hybrid. (Top Chef because of the cooking competition aspect; The Apprentice for the overly dramatic host with terrible, terrible hair).
Just because I’m a sore loser doesn’t mean I still don’t want some AWESOME SHIT. In fact, it increases my desire for awesome shit.
But first, I have to tell you a story about honey.
Coming down with a pseudo-cold that can’t decide whether it really wants to be a cold or not, causing constant irritating nasal drippage
Okay, there probably aren’t a lot of Latina grandmothers reading the site but maybe some of their progeny are (although I shouldn’t make assumptions). Anyway, I call upon you: empanada dough recipes. I require them. Who wants to share family secrets? Spill ‘em.
Really. I mean, I understand gross-out candy to a point, but this is just crossing a line.
Shut up, I needed some retail therapy and I have their discount card. I can only stimulate the economy so much without coupons. I like to support my local big-box bookstore whenever I can, because this upstart Amazon is usually cheaper and is really giving the brick-and-mortars a run for their money, let me tell you.
They didn’t have any great looking Spanish cookbooks either, and was I especially loathe to buy the new Batali-frolics-across-Spain book because (1) I wanted to buy a cookbook, not a series of photos of his orange Crocs in various Spanish locales and (2) it would have meant looking at way too many pictures of Gwyneth Paltrow, whose GOOP still leaves me with a significant amount of ass-chappage. Gwyneth: cursing, especially when you ******* out most of the word, does not up your cred level. If you really want to start nourishing the my inner aspect, you’re going to have to start dropping f-bombs like they’re hot.
NBC. Eight couples. Restaurant wars. Marco Pierre White, a British chef with ridiculous shoes and terrible, terrible hair. I hear he once made Gordon Ramsey cry, although I don’t know if it was from scathing criticism or a sharp kick in the nuts. I’m watching to see if it’s worthwhile. Are you?
Tiny bowls. Bowls with HATS. Bowls with hats that cost a BAJILLION DOLLARS.* But they’re so fucking cute, they make me want to puke rainbows. I want to have them all on my kitchen table, filled with sugar cubes, and I don’t even use sugar cubes. And they would be all, like, “YOU CANNOT RESIST THE SUGAR CUBES FROM OUR ADORABLE HAT-TOPPED BELLIES,” and they would totally be right.
**I inadvertently typed “Eros” the first time, which is the version of “Heros” that comes on on Cinemax late at night.
I know I’m late. We went to see Watchmen last night, got home late, and I was so traumatized by it that I had to re-read the book to erase the memory of the film from my brain. NOTE TO FILMMAKERS: Simply making a film that looks incredibly visually similar to a comic book does NOT MAKE A GOOD MOVIE. Also, the screenwriter should be forced to give back whatever he was paid because he did not do anything except re-type the text of the comic into Microsoft Word, and the “visionary” director should be chained to a blackboard and be forced to write out the definition of “visionary” 500 times. In his own blood.
Anyway, I’m pulling together the roundup now. In the meantime, lots of you shared your cheap meals in the comments to Monday’s post, so you can skim those and relive the good times while you plan out your day which should NOT include going to see Watchmen.*