i can see claritin now my rash is gone

After four days of incredible partying, dancing (my legs are whooped) and Valentineage, the dust has settled, slightly. I'll be heading back home for a few days later this afternoon, mostly with intention to visit family, friends, and shoot my term project.

This will most likely entail the drainage of my savings, seeing as I'm purchasing a brand new Sigma wide-angle lens for my digital body. But hey, that shit lasts forever, and who doesn't want a wide-angle lens anyway? Hopefully when I'm home I'll shake this cold, which has been perpetual for over a month now. On top of that, last night I experienced my all-time worst allergic reaction. A dark red rash spread over the upper half of my body covering my face, chest, neck, and arms. Seeing as I was scared shitless, I called my dad at 6 a.m. (karaoke, you understand), to which he granted me some sound advice and went to sleep.


The funny thing about this all is that I photographed the whole process, because I thought I was about to die. I showed my dad these photos and he wants to use them as allergic reaction examples when he teaches. Always glad to be of service.


The shitty thing about this is that I have no idea what I was allergic to. I came home after the bar and made my usual feast: oven-toasted pita with pepper, pan fried portobello mushrooms, arugula, hummus, and a big glass of pink lemonade. What the hell was I allergic to? I threw everything out this morning, including the giant pitcher of pink lemonade, which may have been the culprit of it all. Bummer, 'cause I love the pink.

But alas, after taking some Claritin, my face is back to normal. I also now have an epi pen.

Raging Bull

Okay.
Everybody listen.
Scratch that.
Everyone in a band, or collective, listen.
Take the advice from ?uestlove (one of the greatest drummers/influences/aficionados/impacts on modern music today, from possibly one of the best hip hop groups of all time) and listen to him.
Sunday is Band Day.
Above any politics amongst your group, Sunday is Band Day.
Lately, Hue's has been Monday.
We drink tequila and freestyle.
I talk about cooking for the band, but the tequila is usually the deciding point.
Listen to ?uestlove.

Use All Your Shit!

If I were to have my own cookbook, the cover would be exactly Phoebe Gilman's Something From Nothing, except the old mans face would be substituted with my own.

When I cook, I can literally take anything in my house and make it into something relatively tasty. It's always been that way. Mind you, I wasn't so good at it when I didn't know anything about balance, texture, flavor bases or combination, but I still tried.

I've always wanted to have my own cooking show called Use All Your Shit!
It would go like so: I would show up to peoples houses (not invite myself over like that Australian prick on Take Home Asshole), to which I would open their fridge and pantry doors and concoct something delicious out of what they thought was "nothing".

I'll give you an example of this.

As of now, and for the past few days, I've had virtually nothing in my fridge. Lets say I had five items in there at most.

Last night I made deep fried vegetarian spring rolls with cheese, a homemade batter and even a dipping sauce from scratch.

Tonight I made a rosemary-infused cream of chicken soup with spinach, red onion, and diced carrots. For dessert I had a puree of strawberries and maple syrup on toast with a glass of red wine.

I swear to you - if you looked in my fridge you'd see nothing but stray bags of barely-there vegetables, a stick of butter, and rolls of film. I'm not normally the type to gloat, but I'm really fucking good at being creative in the kitchen. I could make you a roast chicken out of shards of glass if I wanted to.

ps. Except for that one time: I made Mike eat this "casserole" I made that was made only from wonder bread, sliced ham, white onion, and egg. That was fucking horrendous, and crunching into that burden still haunts me to this day. Sorry Mike.

plaster sandwich

Well, I have since had an upgrade and it is surely more stable than the last. This addition has made me realize many things, some of which I will now go into detail about.

. It has been a very interesting learning curve so far. Actually, I should say re-learning curve. I am slowly realizing what I can and cannot perform with my right hand. For instance, these are the things you wouldn't think would be difficult, but actually are: grinding pepper, getting your wallet out of jeans, tying shoelaces, grating cheese, all bathroom activities, shaking hands, answering the phone, writing, typing, riding a bike and holding pretty much anything.

. It's really warm. I never think to wear gloves when it's cold, (not that a glove would ever fit). I can even avoid using oven mits at times.

. It is relatively bad ass. People really second look when they see a busted hand protruding from a jacket sleeve. It's just among one of those cool things to have in your hands when walking. The list also includes: hot dogs, a wreath, a coffee, a box of books, a bag of fruit, a christmas tree, a tripod, etc. Either that, or they think I'm an idiot.

. If I had a lady throughout the duration of this cast we would probably have lots of sex. Lots and lots. That's something I would enjoy doing with my time instead of fumbling with paint brushes and roaming around College Park. Nothing like the mambo to take your mind off things.

. Showering is becoming less difficult. Seeing as I can't get my cast wet, I have to do whatever it takes to keep it dry, even if it means asking my Coll-Bev lovers to hoard empty sleeves for me. The only really difficult thing about showering is dispensing soap. How is it done with one hand? Think about how you'd do it. I'll leave you with that image.

. Since I'm not working, I've been forced to conjure up some get-rich-quick schemes. Around my place they call that "The Big Dirty". I always find a way to make giant sums of money really fast, and it pisses off my brother to all hell. He'll work for three months and I'll sell two paintings in a day. Sometimes that horseshoe gets uncomfortable in my ass.

. Half of my shirts don't fit because I can't get my arm through the sleeve.

. The cast will probably affect my stair climb later next week. I use my hands a lot throughout the event when grabbing the rails. Oh! Also, I'm accepting pledges and I'm $25 away from reaching my goal, so if you like to donate to the cause just drop me a line. I'll go into detail about this day later this week.


All in all, this cast has turned out to be a very interesting ride so far. I've never had something so constricting attached to my body for so long, except for that time in Vegas, but that's a whole other story. Every morning I wake up and it just feels like it was all a dream, until I attempt to wiggle my fingers. I guess distance makes the hand grow stronger.

face faucet

At it again, once again. Just when I thought I was in the clear, another cold grabs me tight and takes control of me. My face is leaking from all possible holes (except ears, gross), and my chest has that pre-pneumonia-heaviness that is all-too familiar to me. Here's a few things I'd like to share about colds and me.

- For starters, I don't really believe in cold medicine. Having grown up the son of a family doctor, I've been pumped full of meds, drugs, pills, antibiotics, needles, thermometers, and swabs for my most of my youth. Now that I'm away from home and these things aren't readily available to me, I just ride it out and let the progression happen. Which leads me to my next point.

- I've never minded being sick. Sure, it's inconvenienced me in the past, but I don't like to whine about it. Feeling like a sack of shit is actually good for you, I think. Getting better is almost something to look forward to, and puts into perspective how nice being healthy really is.

- I like the change in diet that happens when a cold strikes. All of a sudden, everything turns from black coffee to herbal tea and honey. Red meat becomes red beets. Corona and lime becomes water and lemon. The Vietnamese delicatessen Ginger 2 becomes Ginger Tea. Again, the healing process is a lot more interesting when you're actually taking physical steps to improve your health. It's a nice switch up.

- One thing I don't like is how unproductive being sick can be. Today, for example, was a beautiful day to paint and I had everything ready with a good idea on what the piece would look like, until I saw my bed. The very idea of resting sank in, and I found myself taking a three hour nap.

- The natural progression of my colds goes as so (in order of appearance): sore throat, hearing loss, full face of mucus, congested chest. My favorite of these symptoms is the congested chest. Not only is it the grossest thing ever when hearing that crackle-cough, but you actually feel like your getting rid of the cold when you muscle out a big brown loogee (lougeeh, lewgie, loogie, and lugi were all other guesses on the spelling of that word).

- I get pneumonia, like clockwork, about once every two years on average. The term I created for this is that "I'm prone to pnuemone". Usually around the same week of the same month, I'll get it. I think this year I'll cap-off around a bakers dozen on how many times I've had the illness. Speaking of which, remember when Bernie Mac died of pneumonia last year? That was easily the worst celebrity death ever. Pneumonia? Are we still in the dark ages? I'm pretty sure Bernie Mac had way more access to proper medication than I do, although I'm sure that wasn't the case.
Either way, I'm bound to check out one of these years, when the mucus seeps a little too deep into my lungs and I'll be too macho to ask for meds.

R.I.P. Eastwood Mac and Bernie Mac

Favourite Food Network Personalities, Part 2

In Search of Perfection is an instant classic. The
premise alone is enough to make anyone watch:
some scientist chef, trying to perfect the most simple of dishes. Heston Blumenthal is a brilliant guy. He not only has the best restaurant in the world, but the craziest approaches to cuisine that I've ever seen. Every, single, ingredient is prepared perfectly with the use of everything from dry ice, to beakers, to torches, to pennies.
The only really annoying part about this show is that not only are the dishes perfect, but they're impossible to make at home. Common phrases from Blumenthal usually sound like this: (in British accent)

"Now take your pie crust and line it with cheese cloth, double layered, that has been chilled in the refrigerator for at least three hours. This will prevent the rare Venezuelan butters from drying out and separating the crust. Pour Canadian pennies into the cheese cloth and allow pie to rest at room temperature for about three days."

I wish I was joking.
Something else I can't forget to mention is the theme song. It's probably the only song I've ever heard that is permanently stuck in my head, and I'm not even mad about it. I want to hear it all the time. I want to wake up to it, shower to it, have sex to it, drive my car to it, and want it played at my funeral. Diggi ding'ding deng dung dun ding...Diggi ding'ding deng dung dun ding

Gordon Ramsay

Damn, this guy is cool. Without any hint of sarcasm, I look up to this guy.
I will admit, I don't like Hells Kitchen; I think it's just Fox exploiting Ramsay's somewhat temperamental behaviour and making him play into this lunatic character that Americans love so much. Kitchen Nightmares is awesome. Basically, Ramsay goes around to the worst restaurants in England, cuts them up for the first half of the show, then turns things around and uses his restaurateur skills to bring back some business. Aside from his tough-ass exterior, the guy is just hilarious. His British mannerisms kill me. If you can hear me howling when I'm watching tv, it's usually one of three things: Seinfeld, black stand up, or Ramsay.

"Bloody hell", "Fuck sakes", "I bet the hole in my butt, big boy", he represents something I believe in: swearing is something that can be done well, tastefully, and with purpose. Fuck and shit, believe it or not, are two very versatile adjectives and nobody utilizes them better than Gordon. There's only a single downside to his shows: they always contain a short scene where he changes his shirts, revealing a bare-chested Ramsay, which is always awkward for the viewer. Regardless, I'm a fan of this guy. Bollocks!

License to Grill

I should mention, that I am a fairly new fan to the Food Network. So new, in fact, that I am still new to certain shows. License to Grill, being one of them.
It was love at first sight.
This guy is awesome, mostly due to his passion for grilling meat on barbeque's. He loves it. I don't blame him either; if I had my own show I'd be buying full cuts of Porterhouse and bags of clams too. He's got some really great grilling ideas and is a tonne of fun to watch, with more catch phrases than Groucho Marx.

Bob Blumer

Bob is the best. He's just one of those convincingly harmless guys. He drives a giant toaster and attempts near impossible challenges. I'll admit, he's not the most amazing chef ever. Surreal Gourmet was a bunch of thrifty weird dishes made from his toaster kitchen on wheels, most of which I don't think I'd ever try.
Glutton for Punishment is the newer, snazzier attempt at Camp Blumer. This show rules life. Crazy challenges, interesting people, great facts on intriguing foods, travel and always humorous. Plus, his hair is awesome. I try to copy it.

Guy's Big Bite

A lot of people hate Guy. Hell, even I hate Guy. Is it his Corey Feldman 'do, his sports-jock presence, his Gino tan, or his buddy friends on his show that try to look like they're having fun but they're not even friends with Guy and they're just there to get drunk off of Guy's martini's and get paid.
At the same time, I love Guy. He's got some tasty grilling methods and his flame-bowling shirts never fail to make me laugh. Guy's Big Bite is an admirable attempt at trying to get guys (of the macho variety) to watch the Food Network.
Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives is also a pretty good show. It's a lot like Alton Browns "tour-du-getting fat", only Southwest.

Above everything, if Guy came up to me and asked to be friends, I'd say yes, then drink his Martini's.

to be continued...

Recipe to make the perfect Andy

Andy

Recipe serves many.

Dish will last several years. Ideal conditions very from cold, dark studio spaces with little air circulation to fresh blue-skies.

First, you need a roasting pan. This dish is cooked slow, so no rush. You will need a long, lean cut of meat to begin. Something nice and fresh, well-marbled, with a backbone and drumsticks. Cook with the heart in, as well as the eyes for vision. Throw in some potatoes if necessary.

The seasoning to this dish is where the importance lies. You should gather:

equal parts control/spontaneity
1 heaping tablespoon of Gent (usually in season)
1 teaspoon of respect for elders and mailmen
a pinch of punctuality (not always in season)
1 tablespoon of flaw
equal parts street smarts and book smarts
1/4 tablespoon of responsibility (use sparingly)
2 teaspoons of sugar
2 teaspoons of style (mostly wasted on the Moonwalk)
1/4 cup self confidence
1 cup of reason (make sure it's not Reisen)
1/2 tablespoon ignorance
no added cheapness, it will only sour the dish
mix with 2 cups Olde English and 1 teaspoon diced Ginger (again, use sparingly)

Mid-way through cooking, paint on Friends and Family Sauce. An essential element to the success of Andy.

This meal stands alone on the table. Artistic in presentation, Andy will keep you full for days, and there's plenty of leftovers for everyone. Quick, easy, and reliable. Garnish with parsley.


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