The funny thing about a nervous breakdown or a midlife crisis is that if you're sitting there trying to figure out which one you're having, you're probably having both. It's actually not that funny at all. And hey guess what--now you know when you will die. Is this really how I wanted to start my first so-called "food blog"? Not exactly, I suppose, but it's too far to go back. It sounded so much better when I was thinking it up in my truck a while ago. So if you have made it to this point...congratulations! This is my "food blog". But really, no it isn't.
You see, every day we see people doing what they love and loving it. Those fuckers. And we bitch and bitch: "Whyyy can't I do thattt??" Well, I have the answer, and it seems so simple...
It's because we haven't yet got ourselves drunk enough to get out there and try it.
The ambitious drunk will get shit done, because the ambitious drunk is only carrying two ideas--what he/she wants to do, and the "fuck you" attitude for the sober people who think he/she has a bad idea.
I'm almost angrily envious of this girl I know who took that idea and executed it in such literal fashion. She has become somewhat a staple of the Atlanta party scene, (my apologies to her for this careless oversimplification) essentially by going to bars, having a blast, and writing about what a blast it was. She built a career from that. And there was this time she dropped a banana peel and then slipped on it, and I just died laughing at her. Okay okay, I laughed at her Facebook status where she posted that story... Okay look, when I said that I know her, I don't actually know her like in the real world; well, she did give me a cupcake once at a bar. I don't remember eating it, but when I looked down it wasn't in my hand anymore, so I imagine it was delicious. The world needs more like her, selflessly throwing out homemade cupcakes to drunk idiots like me. The point is that she knew what she loved, and found how to use that in a way to let her continue doing it. Get it?
So I started to think about things that I love to do, things I could share with the world. It eventually boiled down (food pun!) to what I feel are the basics of life, or, if you'll allow me to whisk in (food pun!) another food pun, the spice of life (food pun!): eating, getting drunk, and telling stories. To keep things easy, though not at all accurate, I decided to start a "food blog" of some kind.
Yeah, I get it, you're like "I've gone this far and have yet to see you say anything about food, aside from the vague cupcake mystery which could easily have been just a dream, which you don't remember very well." Well, have some patience, asshole, I just found out I will die when I'm like 52. You want a fucking "food blog" about "food"?? Fine. Do you want to know what I just ate? Noodles, dude. Noodles. Want me to describe what that meal tasted like? It tasted like hot water. So yeah, maybe I didn't pick an ideal day to start what so far is not a "food blog". I checked my bank account, assuming to see an amount like $42-something or whatever, and instead saw 0.00. Seriously, 0.00. About 9 days from payday. So if I seem a little self-loathing, that is because it's a bit difficult to go out and independently start a "food blog" when you can't afford to eat anything worth mentioning. By the way, FUN FACT: "food blog" will always be inside quotations as my way of screaming its sarcasm at you.
The idea that brought this first blog entry to life (or beat it to death) wasn't about some divinely-cooked miracle of a steak that changed my life, or some soft slice of dessert I slid a fork through that gave me a breathtaking orgasm, which hey, I'll put it out there, would be welcomed right now. It was the idea of getting the drunken balls to stop talking about what you want and just do it. I love eating, drinking, and I want to tell you about it. And I'm very far into this bottle of Syrah, because it was the only alcohol I had in the house, but boy do I not like red wines. It ranks somewhere on the bottomless list of things I do not like, like Dexter, olives, and when people awkwardly sing the word "awkward". I won't get into why I had still been saving this bottle of something I don't like, or who I was saving it for; this blog may be for a lot of topics, but not for that one. Anyway, I'm broke and it was here, so...que Syrah, erotic hoorah. It's cool, be cool.
Have suggestions, opinions (remember, those are like assholes), comments, recommendations? I prefer donations, but feel free.
You see, every day we see people doing what they love and loving it. Those fuckers. And we bitch and bitch: "Whyyy can't I do thattt??" Well, I have the answer, and it seems so simple...
It's because we haven't yet got ourselves drunk enough to get out there and try it.
The ambitious drunk will get shit done, because the ambitious drunk is only carrying two ideas--what he/she wants to do, and the "fuck you" attitude for the sober people who think he/she has a bad idea.
I'm almost angrily envious of this girl I know who took that idea and executed it in such literal fashion. She has become somewhat a staple of the Atlanta party scene, (my apologies to her for this careless oversimplification) essentially by going to bars, having a blast, and writing about what a blast it was. She built a career from that. And there was this time she dropped a banana peel and then slipped on it, and I just died laughing at her. Okay okay, I laughed at her Facebook status where she posted that story... Okay look, when I said that I know her, I don't actually know her like in the real world; well, she did give me a cupcake once at a bar. I don't remember eating it, but when I looked down it wasn't in my hand anymore, so I imagine it was delicious. The world needs more like her, selflessly throwing out homemade cupcakes to drunk idiots like me. The point is that she knew what she loved, and found how to use that in a way to let her continue doing it. Get it?
So I started to think about things that I love to do, things I could share with the world. It eventually boiled down (food pun!) to what I feel are the basics of life, or, if you'll allow me to whisk in (food pun!) another food pun, the spice of life (food pun!): eating, getting drunk, and telling stories. To keep things easy, though not at all accurate, I decided to start a "food blog" of some kind.
Yeah, I get it, you're like "I've gone this far and have yet to see you say anything about food, aside from the vague cupcake mystery which could easily have been just a dream, which you don't remember very well." Well, have some patience, asshole, I just found out I will die when I'm like 52. You want a fucking "food blog" about "food"?? Fine. Do you want to know what I just ate? Noodles, dude. Noodles. Want me to describe what that meal tasted like? It tasted like hot water. So yeah, maybe I didn't pick an ideal day to start what so far is not a "food blog". I checked my bank account, assuming to see an amount like $42-something or whatever, and instead saw 0.00. Seriously, 0.00. About 9 days from payday. So if I seem a little self-loathing, that is because it's a bit difficult to go out and independently start a "food blog" when you can't afford to eat anything worth mentioning. By the way, FUN FACT: "food blog" will always be inside quotations as my way of screaming its sarcasm at you.
The idea that brought this first blog entry to life (or beat it to death) wasn't about some divinely-cooked miracle of a steak that changed my life, or some soft slice of dessert I slid a fork through that gave me a breathtaking orgasm, which hey, I'll put it out there, would be welcomed right now. It was the idea of getting the drunken balls to stop talking about what you want and just do it. I love eating, drinking, and I want to tell you about it. And I'm very far into this bottle of Syrah, because it was the only alcohol I had in the house, but boy do I not like red wines. It ranks somewhere on the bottomless list of things I do not like, like Dexter, olives, and when people awkwardly sing the word "awkward". I won't get into why I had still been saving this bottle of something I don't like, or who I was saving it for; this blog may be for a lot of topics, but not for that one. Anyway, I'm broke and it was here, so...que Syrah, erotic hoorah. It's cool, be cool.
Have suggestions, opinions (remember, those are like assholes), comments, recommendations? I prefer donations, but feel free.
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