I love how my friends have all whole-heartedly embraced my quest for American novelties. I’ve been given peeps and attended keg parties (video coming soon). Love, love, love my mates; I say it here because I’m emotionally awkward when I’m face to face.
The above is funnel cake, which is this thick standard flour/milk/egg batter that’s deep fried and then covered in icing sugar. Got it with Stacey and Todd. The funnel part is pretty simple, the batter is poured through a funnel into the hot oil to create the interlace pattern. I loved the oily goodness but can’t imagine eating a huge one, the monotone flavour is a bit much. But hey, at least I can replicate the carnival food later on!
Check out my New York pizza slice! The one in the picture is called a “magic square” and I had it at Nonna Apa in the Lower East side of New York. Side note: I hated the touristy spots of NYC but loved Lower East side. It really changed my perception of the city. A good Chinatown will make me swoon. Most people buy tshirts in New York, I left with baby bok choy, scallions and aloe vera juice.
I was slightly disappointed about the pizza. New Yorkers keep on banging on about how unique the pizza is up there (down here meaning D.C) so I expected different flavours to jump around in my mouth but when I took my first bite, there was nothing…I liked it, it was crispy and the sauce was good but I’ve had better.
T’was my birthday last Saturday and Wendell surprised me with a trip to the shooting range. At first he told me we were going sky diving and I was so shattered and disappointed (see: rolling around in bed with a sad face) that he confessed to what I knew all along. I was going shooting, bitches.
I act all tough in retrospect but the truth is, I wore my skull and crossbones belt to the range but felt so intimidated by all the pro shooters that I quickly put my cardigan over my “hardcore” accessory.
We were only in the range for an hour but that was enough. I bet if I was shooting at moving things it would have been more exciting but then I wouldn’t have felt nearly as good afterwards – my hit rate would have been lowered. The gun was heavy! I was looking forward to having the gun recoil when I fired a shot but no such luck. I’m all into bruises that I can show off but it’s all good.
And to top it all off, we went to Komi for dinner. Hmm. I can still taste some of the courses and plan on at a minimum, mastering the goat shoulder recipe.
This was my first go at collecting audio and photos. I plan on buying Soundslide, the demo below worked like a treat.
During my primary school years, every lunch time my friends and I would survey the surface of our football fields. We were on the hunt for ant nests, and when we found one, we went at it with anything we could find; sticks, rocks, our aprons. We had seen pictures of queen ants in books and while we dug through antechamber after antechamber, we saw many eggs but never a queen. Poor buggers. I committed genocide before turning ten.
My cousin had a creek literally next door to her house and whenever the terrors (my siblings and I) was over, we’d find all kinds of plastic containers and fill them with the little tadpoles that were practically jumping over the brim of the little creek. We’d take them home and then wonder why they all died. My aptly named Fatty was the last one, the baby frog consumed its’ own body fat long enough to grow little legs but then called it quits. I cried and it had a royal funeral next to the strawberry patch. If only I had thought to feed it.
In Year 2, the clever thing to do was to go up to someone and say really fast “doyalickadickaday?“, if they hadn’t heard the joke before, they would normally say yes and you would give an exaggerated laugh and tell everyone within ear shot that so-and-so licks a dick a day. We knew what a penis was but thought it was gross – like touching a snail or making a fart joke. The complications and sick implications of the humour came out when I older, was looking back. It’s like biting your tongue and saying “I was born on a pirate ship.” Do it now! Tell me what it sounds like.
And on a lighter note, I was six when my family moved to Australia. Since we had just shipped everything we had to another country, there was one room that was stacked high with boxes. You heard of Picasso’s blue period? Well, this was the time in our family of the great Aladdin period. After coming home from school, my four year old sister, my three year old brother and six year old I would take turns to climb onto the highest box possible. We’d stand, holding a blanket length way (our magic carpet) then jump as if gliding through air, singing as loud as one can “A whole new worrrrld!” Once you landed on the mattress, you had to proclaim with absolute certainty how long you were in the air. Eight seconds was the record. Which is just impossible, but back then, it was magical.
Yeah, you heard me. I’ve been reading Sam de Brito’s blog All Men are Liars for six months now and his articles are always interesting, timely and honest. He’s like the National Geographic in my blog reader, well-researched, informative and something I can strike up a conversation about later on.
The reason I’m bringing him up is his latest work on the word pussy. I swear, this is not a feminist whinge. It’s written by a no nonsense type of bloke. And I loved every word. The below is taken mid-stream but you should seriously click on this link for the rest. Your brain would thank you for it.
However, if a person really lacks strength, if they’re a wimp of the highest order, they might attract the next level of aspersion: pussy.
That’s right, you heard me, you pussy.
Some would argue this is merely a contraction of the term “pussy cat”, which strikes me as sweetly naive, considering its double-meaning has been mined by comedians for more than a century…
So, while I’d love to think guys screaming “pussy” at the opposing team at football matches are referring to tabby cats, somehow I doubt it.
This is kind of funny because so many men spend their lives chasing said pussy, yet, when they want to diminish someone, they label them with the object of their desire.
It’s nothing to get excited about, I don’t really classify this as my first exhibition. It’s for the International Photographic Society (IPS) of the World Bank and IMF. In my mind it can’t be my first exhibition because I only had one image out of the whole show!
I’ve joined the IPS group for a portrait session and entered one of their monthly competitions. The photo below of Alyanna was one of the photos chosen for the exhibit so I got it printed and matted, very exciting stuff, especially when the printing was done by National Geographic. I floated with glee into the underbelly of the Nat Geo building.
The IPS is a great group of people. One of their photographers, Dirk Mevis, is absolutely amazing and cleaned up the awards. You should check him out.