Happy Thanksgiving

Today I made a roux and a green bean casserole to take over to my mom’s. I don’t think that I made enough roux — I should probably have made a double batch, given that I ended up making a half gallon of gravy. Of course, my mom had tossed the giblets because she thought that they were gross, but the gravy worked out okay anyway. This time I did not use too much black pepper.

I had to bug out early because I was feeling a little… I dunno. I could use some super fun party time tonight. Translate my heart into Japanese and back again: “Thousand being broken eyes overnight are not repaired.” It’s okay. I’m fine. That’s not as funny as “Macho Business Donkey Wrestler,” but we can’t ALL be News Radio. Oh, no we can’t.

I know that I had told myself that I was going to save my pinstriped black shirt for a hot date, but I needed extra propping up to make the casserole without freaking out while sweating the onions and mushrooms. I shaved, I looked great, but I couldn’t glue on my game face, no matter how good my grey corduroys look on me. Yes, I understand that marrying the pinstripes to the cords was asking for trouble, but Lisa gave the nod. Shit. I shoulda grabbed different pants.

Anyway, it was nice to see my extended family on my mom’s side. I put the turkey back in the oven right when it was time to be served because tearing off a leg revealed undercooked meat. Fucking great. Somewhere inside I was livid — partly at myself for not taking point on the bird. It turned out okay, the skin crisped up extra nice, but, you know, uh, shit. I’m gonna go watch some Law and Order.

If you like scratchin’ and hip hop and shit like that, yo, you should motherfucking check out the Gray Kid’s weird little online EP thing: “The Pilgrimage: Y’All Some Turkeys.”

Aw shit, motherfuckers, just listen to this fucking shit drop. That’s some fucked up SID chip action:

I don’t think that I can possibly ever swear enough.

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Uh Oh

I think that I could take down a two and a half cases of Summit by myself no problem.

But can I do it before the end of Law and Order?

Maybe I should have a party.

Oh yeah, Stan and I went to see Borat tonight. I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time, even though the New York scenes brought back fond memories that made me all sad. Damn you for pinching a loaf in a planter, Sasha Baron Cohen! DAMN YOU!

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Let’s see what I’m thankful for this year:
1) Flying a giant peach across the ocean
2) Landing on top of the tallest building in the world

Oh, wait, no, that’s James and the Giant Peach, which Noah is watching while I “babysit” him, for sufficiently lazy definitions of “babysitting.”

I could make a list of all sorts of things for which I am grateful, or the people who are close to my heart, but I have to go break the television so that I don’t have to listen to Randy Newman yowl like a horny cat with a speech impediment.

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There Is Blood On Our Hands Again

Have you ever noticed that no matter how loud you listen to Death From Above 1979 it is not anywhere near loud enough?

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You’ll Have To Pick Just Three

Chinese Translation

It’s even better if you translate it into Chinese and back again. I’ll leave that up to you, songmeanings.net and google translate.

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I think I need to buy some shoes.

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Hi Mom

If you can see this, then you know that it’s a portrait, but what you might not know is that it is a portrait of my mother that I shot for class. Hooray!

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What? Where Am I?

I know where I haven’t been — the internet. This week revealed itself to be mostly a pile of midterm sized paperwork. Plus, Sarah has been absorbing a good deal of my attention, which pays dividends in her general awesomeness and the amount of her attention that I get to absorb in return.

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Two Libraries, Eleven Books, and a Lot Of Coffee Later

I guess that my first draft of my paper for Mexican Folklore was “done,” but, uh.

Tomorrow I have to finish shooting a roll of film, maybe shoot another, develop that or those, print contact sheets, print seven 8x10 pictures, and mount four of them. Also I have a physics lab that I have to go to.

And maybe work.

Maybe I should get up early.

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Hold Your Horses

I hung out with Sarah this afternoon. We watched Nacho Libre, cooked and ate a delicious dinner, and then watched Syriana. Interspersed in there was a review of her photography and a shameful review of my own. Rumor has it that we could do art-type-things Friday and Saturday, which means that I wouldn’t necessarily have to wander through a crowd of strangers to look at art-type-stuff. Glorious.

So, uh, everyone behave yourself and keep your hooting and hollering to a dull roar. Now if you don’t mind, I have do some reading.

Also, maybe obsessively go through my photos looking for things that say “look, I’m not a terrible, terrible hack.”

No! I will stay on task!

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