random thoughts and thoroughbred selections

Friday, January 01, 1999

545PM, Monday - You buckin' me I'm buckin' right back at you

Al,

I actually had two best men as well, and chances are about even money that you'll get to meet them both in Vegas. One of them has been my best friend since eighth grade, when we both did Jr. High theatre under a guy whose claim to fame was a short stint on "The Young and the Restless." He also wore sweatpants and adjusted his junk constantly. And was gay with a lesbian beard (also a theatre teacher) as a wife. One of the funniest things I ever saw was when this teacher in question came up to hug my friend from behind at an awards ceremony, and he couldn't move his ass out of the way fast enough.

Regardless...

Nice and simple? Jesuschrist Al, there's never a nice and simple answer when you ask me a food question. Never. Ever. I could actually do an NCAA Tournament style bracket of 64 unique and individual meals, seed them, and play them out to find a winner, but I think no one but me would be remotely entertained by that concept.

Anyway, there have been a few things in my life I've eaten where I could have cried the food was so good. Actually, there was one time I was so stoned that I did cry over a Hungry Howie's pizza, and my roommate and I tearfully called the pizza joint offering our undying affection for the pizza they had just enabled us to devour.

See, I'm dancing around the fucking question. I can't even take a hypothetical question like this and settle on something in my mind. I can't even decide if I want a buffet style smorgasboard of goodness, or if I'd rather have the most brilliant expertly prepared meal of my life.

Ugh.

OK, there's a couple of things that are going to have to be a part of this, starting with Clover Bar pizza. I grew up running around this joint, and to this day one of the best Xmas presents I ever received were three "take-n-bake" pizzas from Clover when I was living across the state. Best. Pizza. Ever. I'd also have a bottle of 1997 Nardi Brunello Manachiara, which is the most expensive and best red wine I've ever had the opportunity to drink. To this day, I thank god that Pauly wasn't a wine guy when I cracked that on the occasion of my 30th birthday. Plus, I'd make some cannolis. I love cannolis, and I'd definitely have some baklava to go with it for dessert. I'd accompany the dessert with a Turkish or Greek coffee. You know, that stuff that's basically mud in a mug.

But, that doesn't even come close to answering the question. Let's at least narrow this down. Baby animals taste gooooooood... It's gotta be lamb or veal. Probably lamb. Let's say just grilled lamb chops drizzled in olive oil. I would eat the pizza instead of a potato, but I do love asparagus, so toss some broiled asparagus tossed with garlic butter into the mix.

And then allow me a cigarette and a joint or three while I await death's cold hands on my shoulder.

Dammit Al, now I'm hungry.

You know, I watch way too much TV. Always have, always will. At least until the glaucoma kicks in and I have to move to Amsterdam and affix my mouth to a hookah full time to "ease the pain." Anyway, growing up I was a fan of "Silver Spoons," but wanted to be Derek (Jason Bateman's smug and snarky sidekick) and not "The Ricker." Yeah, he was desirable, he was rich, he had a fucking train to ride around the property, but he wasn't funny. Not like Derek. And then Bateman parlayed that role into his own show "It's Your Move," where all he did was bust on the older dude that might have been his dad or uncle or something. I wanted to be Bateman - or at least his characters - so freaking bad.

That really wasn't me though. I didn't refine this rapier wit for quite a few years after childhood, and until I got past the bitterness of my teen years. So who was I? I was Sean Astin in "The Goonies." I had a diverse group of friends, I held them all together, and basically, I sucked. Then, as a teen, I became Brian Krakow from "My So Called Life." From seventh grade and on, all I did was fixate on some chick who was never going to give it up, and pine for her to the point of writing terrible poetry and basically living in the fetal position.

So, either I have self-image problems, or I really did suck for quite a number of years. I'm thinking the latter.

I believe the archtype for all of our childhoods can be found in bad sitcoms somewhere. Which one's you?

[>>]posted at 5:15 PM by BG - click to email
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