The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers. (delascabezas) wrote,
The Son of the last of a long line of thinkers.
delascabezas

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Just like the Pied Piper....

So yeah, yesterday was a hoot. After staying up late watching The Last Unicorn, having a good time, and a bit of a phone chat with L., I managed to get some sleep, but was up super early (with the sun even). I loved re-watching TLU, even though my favorite Peter Beagle story is still "Lydia the Werewolf". I got moving around 8ish, fixed gabsosteel's compy, and read. Around 10 and change, idchild came back from work, and breakfasting goods were set out for at the local shopping center (which is where the Klass/Ass picture came from). It astounds me how different the cost of living is up here. What would have been eassily 160$-170$ of groceries came out to just under 100$.

Breakfast consisted of bacon and eggs, bagels and cream cheese, oj, and chocolate milk (for them, not me). I made omolettes because gabsosteel had never had one before. Mushroom, havarti, onion, broccoli, chive and a wee bit of fresh rosemary. Alas, she did not like the fresh rosemary, but overall, I don't think it was a horrible experience for her first time. Mine was damn good.

So then, we lazed around a bit. I played WoW for the longest stint since before I moved, and then we made a plan. We went to the Albright-Knox to see the Extreme Abstraction exhibit. Even though modern art is totally not my schtick (and I must say, the status of some of this stuff as "art" is questionable in my mind) there were some really neat installations in the exhibit. I saw more than one piece that reminded me of red_dinosaur's stuff. Make art woman, and you can totally get into major art shows!

After we wandered the exhibit for an hour or so, they kicked us out.



Because of issues with his car, idchild is currently not driving. As such, we took a taxi to/from the museum. The cab driver we had yesterday was truly amazing. He was in his late 50's, horribly bedecked in a blue velure jogging suit (complete with easy-access zipper), and plenty of gold bling. What was most unforunate about this gentleman (aside from his bulbous nose and bad breath) was the fact that he had body hair like a mountain goat, everywhere but on his head, which was horribly slicked back in a dorsal combover. I was riding shotgun, with gabsosteel and idchild in the back. When we got into the cab, there was no music playing. Shortly after pulling out of the museum's driveway, he flipped on the local oldies station (yesterday and today). He immidiately started rocking out to some Pink Floyd. This was followed by Queen's "Fat Bottomed Girls" and Ozzie's "Paranoia". Each sucessive song, the music got louder and louder. He was singing along, and doing air guitar and percussion on the steering wheel. Several times throughout the relatively short trip, he gunned the engine in tune with the song, but certainly not with the traffic. Even worse was the fact that the guy couldn't drive straight for all the girl scoping he was doing.

I was highly amused, in that morose New Yorker oddity kind of way. Apparently though, the back seat smelled of pee. By the time we got back, both idchild and gabsosteel were revolted by the experience, which I found utterly hysterical (the experience, not their pee-induved revulsion).

I finally got a crack at the new Mario Kart for gamecube (which I will most likely be snagging a copy of when I get back home), and set to cooking in time to meet people at 8:30ish.

Dinner last night was truly an improv masterpiece. I had forgotten to procute spinach and ricotta yesterday for the stuffing I usually use. This meant I had to do some serious variation on my traditonal double pork. What I came up with was delicious! I also made tricolor rotinni with zuchinni, red/yellow peppers, a bit of tomato, and fresh parmesean and garlic. The true improv came with the stuffed mushrooms.

There are things one expects or takes for granted when one cooks all the time. Things like, oh, flour being part of the kitchen goods lying about. Wrong on that one. I discovered it is basically impossible to make a rue without flour. However, at the last minute, gabsosteel saved the day by procuring some across the street. Rue tragedies aside, I realized that I had NONE of the normal things I would usually use to stuff mushrooms (and these were some very nice port caps). Generally, at home, in such a connundrum, there would be something in the pantry that would have saved the day for me. Not so here. All my raid turned up was a very stale bag of corn chips.

Not to be undone by poorly stocked cubbards, I concocted something quite delicious. Swiss cheese rue with crushed corn chip flakes, and a light sprinling of fresh basil. These were baked a bit, then broiled for crispyness (after finding out the broiler was not, in fact, in the broiler tray, but rather at the top of the oven!). For all the heartache, and mystery meat surrounding their creation, they were damn tasty.

Which brings me to the meaning of the title of the post.

Symphony of Destruction.
Between the hours of 3pm yesterday, and ~ 1am today, I imbibed (in this order):


  • 5 "pint and a half" glasses of vodka tonic

  • 1/2 bottle of cabernet savignon with dinner (2001 Lake Erie, very tasty)

  • threee fingers of The Glenfiddich

  • 4 whiskey cokes (out at the bar)

  • pint.5 post-bar vodka tonic

  • one orange juice and tequila



What was I thinking? I can happily report, I am NOT hung over this morn, despite my reckless mixology last night. I met some nifty people through the course of the evening yesterday, but fuck all was I a spin-headed bastard when I finally passed crashed out.

I think the tequila was what did it. Damn mexican liquor.

So now I am up, it is Sunday. My conference starts tonight. I am not excited at all about it, particularly since it is pretty fucking far from where I am staying. It is going to be a pain in the ass to get back and forth, though I may have voodooed up some transportation last night. Today will tell the tale. I'm sitting here listening to music, over the drone of someone who started power sanding about an hour and a half ago. That is some balls right there, power sanding at 8am on a Sunday in a neighbrorhood this tightly packed. Oh, listen to that, they started running the circular saw now.

At least the view is nice:

Breakfast soon. Blueberry pancakes, sausage patties, and some fresh hash browns.
Tags: cooking, lisa, nightlife, travel
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