while we were out hunting for food our house was being robbed
don’t make me get aristocratic on your ass.
i went to the bathroom to get my pose on in the full length and got a good look at my tan/tan lines. holy moly.
i’ll keep this post pro though. food. food only. sex later. though they both do certainly go together quite nicely. maybe i’ll do a gauche actual food porn shoot. hmmm (cogs turning)…
checking bloat level from meat hoovering. shoulda taken post piss.
very nice facilities.
someone is ripping me off.
after i ate, mark came over to escort me ’round the back and downstairs through the prep kitchen.
this is the upstairs one.
this is perfect sunday date spot. sigh. i’m up north in beautiful fall country land. picture me in a cable knit sweater drinking 80 dollar cognac (i am) it’s dusk and we should be eating this together by a fire.
1994 guy. signif year. rip cobain year. i nosed this. potent.
i ate the pepper from my charcuterie board and then i saw through time. i am not a pussy when it comes to heat anymore. probably because the fear part of my brain is now damaged steve irwin style. HI! THIS IS THE WORLD’S MOST POISONOUS SNAKE WATCH ME HUG IT!
don’t think i won’t.
morgue time. what’s the name for slaughterhouse? cow slaughterhouse? or that other word for cow? guys, what is, stuff? sorry i’m on retard time right now. update: bovine!
check the bandsaw over mark’s shoulder. this ain’t your grade nine shop class.
do you like my disapproving mother-in-law stance?
i don’t know why i did that. i felt like i was going to smell rosemary. those are hamburger buns.
photographer here get me doing this. it’s compelling.
kind of super delicious looking eh.
a lesson in fermentation. i guessed it before he even told me. i am smart. no i mean i guessed what was going on here not what it was he was fermenting. though i did make a scrooge coal joke that went nowhere and got no laughs. more out loud to myself.
can you guess what it is? can you tell how much effort i put into that slob hairdo?
walnut. how cool is it that they do this? well i guess we’re all master chef scientists at adventurehouse too then as we have a lot of fermentation going on in our fridge and the counter too. tmi.
did that leave anything behind? nope. and we’re good. awesome tanfantastic palms though. and yes i did ask mark if that was his biggest fan. deadpan people make me assault them with wisecracks it’s a trigger my mental compulsive illness cannot deflect easily.
to become headcheese. um. cool! well yeh fully but i don’t know what i am looking at here. i can handle it but i think i’ll leave this to the experts. then my foot bumps into something as i move further into the walk-in fridge…
oh, no big deal. just a box full of bags of ????? (everything was hygienically beyond clean by the way and these were in vacuum-sealed plastic) my friend ward’s dad manages/runs the funeral parlour in streetsville. he was my best friend in highschool, we went there often in the winter so ward could obsessively wash his car in the heated garage. i’d sit in the car and call dudes on ward’s phone while staring at garbage bags neatly lining the walls in there, two-deep. can only imagine what was in those bags. (!!!!!!)
mark, stop copying me.
i wasn’t uncomfortable in there at all. working at central, i’m used to weird greasy looking stuff that the kitchen staff has set up on trays. nothing more disgusting than sinking your hand into a fermented into dust lemon (which can’t be avoided in any bar/restaurant cos you get them by the case and there’s always one or two hidden gems) omg it is so sickening in the most fascinating of ways.
prop concept photo shoot.
wonder how the next resto is going to top this one. hahhaa.
shit pic but that’s the smoker, which i also figured out all on my own. saw the hickory pucks.
what do you think i’m saying here? i know i was trying really hard to come off as knowledgeable about food and cooking and animal slaughtering honouring ethics.
some guy is in love with me right now over facebook about how i dress. he must have a thing for jewish spinster aunties with cute little bellies and lots of opinions.
mark is really smart, precise and nice. i could tell when it was my turn to talk even though he was likely thinking i was an idiot because i’m not an expert in his field and my terminology was like trailer park boys ricky trying to be profound, it wasn’t just him doing the talking. some people you can tell are complete morons but they try and school you at your own game. they know a little about everything while a lot of nothing mostly and it’s like please stop talking. now.
looks like i am receiving sage samurai wisdom. THAT’S BECAUSE I WAS. holy crap am i a vision or what.
no idea. tried hard to make a joke. failed. whaddya mean there’s no santa?
“hmmm… wonder how tanned i look under this dick tracy light.”
“oh my god who cares. people like me for my personality.”
ooh i look dubious. can’t bullshit a bullshitter. (name that movie and i’ll give you guest list plus 1 to my ten year blog anniversary party at wrong bar THIS NOVEMBER 11).
wow. a saw, specified for meat. sick. the cool kind of sick. maybe the other sick too. two birds indeed.
only mark and another guy are allowed to use it. looks like the other guy is only allowed to use it now haha. oh man, shop class memories. cos two kids in my class almost took fingers off we had to re-watch the safety video again midway through the semester. idiots.
was saying hand wounds as a chef or anyone who uses their hands for work are especially awful. limiting. a pint glass exploded in my hand at central and severed my thumb once. gory.
geee i wonder what this is used for? ooh what a burning mystery hmm. marshmallows? moon pies? rainbows?
showin’ off my hardware knowledge talkin’ saw teeth per inch and blades. thank you for humouring/indulging that.
couldn’t resist so i opened this baby up.
this is what me asking a dumbed-down question looks like. reporters are notorious for this shit. everyone falls for it, they can’t help it. completely unavoidable. it’s like an in your face troll comment wherein their facts are so terribly backward and incorrect you can’t help but jump in and right everything. the journalist comes away satisfied. this is why artists hate journalists.
prob shouldn’t post this but meh. i go what’s that? no answer as it is obvious. i say, well, it’s not paint. guess you had to be there.
oh have a heart.
no really. mmm imagine chewing that bloody tough vein. divine!
my turn my turn.
i am a serious professional guys.
mmmmmmmmmm. i’m imagining gravy roast beef smothered in mayo on these things.
just so cozy and inviting i couldn’t choose between the five pictures i took. this concludes my tour of cowbell eating it from the inside then going down to the battlefield and confronting my animal sacrifices-to-be. happy to know my dinner was happy before my pretentious gluttony ass consumed it.
my punky brewster morning here. where i am presently. then i watched a houseboat be moved by a guy in a huge tractor. small town remote rural idyllic life surrounded by mountains.
i had never been to union before. they only had three things available to order from the menu at the time. those are them.
stevie nicks memorial outfit.
me last nite.
my room. there is no internet here. but there is internet at another house i’m spending time at. i prefer this space to work in so i’m going to try and get one of those rocket usb things tomorrow. nothing is open at normal times here. i shouldn’t even be thinking about blogging or internet as i’m here to write my book. ughhhhhh. tomorrow that begins. I STILL REQUIRE INTERNET.
my little lunch time espresso after family lunch.
work station. more pastels. i have no idea who joanne is.
the rumour mill of this small town is ridiculous. my arrival, within 24 hours, the reaction of is amusing. they knew we had a reservation at a restaurant before we even went there. multiply the double takes i get in burlington by 5 and you have where i am now. it is hard to not be conscious of it. i don’t mind it.
had a nice date before i left. actually, a second date.