| Jun042008 | Sacre Bleu |
Jack is dead. Or very close to it. I am, er, Jacque. ‘ere to post ze bloggings in a very racist French accent! Mais oui! Ok, I’m lying.
I’m heading to Vegas for the first time this weekend. I skipped out on buying a ticket to the Cirque du Soleil show with all the naked people because nobody really tried to sell it to me. Also, I’ve heard there are a zillion other places in Vegas to see some skin so I don’t know why we need to make a big song and dance about it (is that too literal? hrm).
We’ll be staying at the Palazzo and doing the typical stuff like eating, drinking, clubbing, gambling, eloping, etc. I don’t really know what to think of Vegas. On the one hand, I want to be completely electrified by it and on the other hand I want to be the snarky hipster that hates it so. Decisions, decisions.
I drove to Leavenworth, WA two weeks ago and it was interesting because it was the first time I’ve driven that far (120 miles there and another 120 back). Also, my car was already one month overdue for service. Now it is one month and two weeks overdue for service. I am really shit at car maintenance, even when all I have to do is let someone else look at it.
Leavenworth is a German-themed town full of the kinds of buildings that gingerbread houses are modeled on and every sign uses Gothic lettering. Even the Starbucks. I half expected it to be called Stars und Bucks Haus. The place was very touristy but a fun way to spend a sunny weekend. We ate sausage, ate ice cream, ate gingerbread, ate chocolate and then we all fell asleep on the drive home. I wanted to fall asleep at the wheel but instead I kept myself awake by talking on my phone, applying make-up, checking my hair and sipping my latte all at the same time.
This week, we’ve baked chocolate cookies and chocolate brownies and I am amazed at how easy this shit is. I’ve always had a phobia about baking and I always thought there was no such thing as easy baking but there you go. Cookies only needed like 8 minutes in the oven and they were done. I think my thinking comes from my mother and her Sisyphean struggle to make spongecake.
Lately, I’ve become extra obsessed with cooking in general. I’ve been watching Top Chef, catching Iron Chef America (Mario Batali is a god-damned genius) whenever it is on and going through episodes of Jamie At Home. Slowly but surely, I am talking about food in a more and more pretentious way. I think I will need to be an asshole about food for a while before I get to a better place.
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