If you’re taking them out of the dishwasher, you do not have too many.
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I don’t know: looks like a good assortment. I guess a big balloon whip could be handy, but at least yours look nice and clean, unlike most of my batterie de cuisine at the moment.
My random thought? I’m getting tired of telling my little story about taking down a stop sign at 50 miles per on Friday, so when various people ask me, “What’s up with you, dude,” I’m sticking with: “Trust me, you don’t want to know, sweetheart! Just one of those weeks! What up with you?”
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No.
Just a wild guess.
No.
Final answer.
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Nope, looks about right to me.
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Hey, this former friend who now bartends at my regular after-work place is starting to get the picture that that’s what I do! Go to work, socialize over there for a bit, go home!
She actually said “How are you?” After her usual, “What do you want, dude?” Now she’s acting like a person! Of course my response was a simple grunt, like “eh,” but she’s starting to figure out that I know absolutely everybody in there, and also that I no longer give a damn about her as a romantic partner.
So, maybe we can be acquaintances. For a hardcore introvert like me, who has learned to accept the lash and yoke of casual friendship, at work and at play, that’s quite a compliment to her.
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Led Zeppelin “4” is 50 years old this month.
Got my mint vinyl copy on the turntable now, haven’t played it since CDs took over in the 80s. It’s not a '71 copy, think I got it somewhere around '80. Guess I should go on Discogs and see when it was pressed.
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Two things. I completely despise this other woman: just completely off the rails. She’s untrustworthy, and has terrible taste. I don’t even want to be friends with her, much less the other. Can’t have that in my life, but I’ll allow her to pour me beer a few days a week. And, yes, I tip her the same as the rest: I take care of my bartenders. But just the tip.
However, a different woman who also bartends, with whom I’ve always gotten along just fine. She’s always been nice to me. She actually insisted either yesterday or the day before on taking me and some other random dude out to a pretty swanky Italian restaurant, and she even drove us there. And she paid for everything, at her insistence (obviously I was expecting to pay my own way, but you know how some people are when they have an idea in their heads). She was appalled, but in a somewhat compassionate way, about the other man’s comportment at the table, but we all got along, and of course I know a bit of Italian and basic table manners, so it was an interesting hour or two of genial light conversation, acceptable food, and a modicum of decorum.
It wasn’t really a date: I think she was just hungry and wanted both some good company and to do something nice. Pretty sure she’s partenered up with some dude (not the other guy at dinner, but somebody else), but perhaps not. Not really my game to get too involved with women who serve me food and drink, but I think it’s safe to say we’re on very good terms with each other, which is always nice. And, yes, she is attractive and all that. So, you know, I’ll just hold the course and see what happens, without really expecting anything or trying to get with her. Better to be friends, without any hidden agendas, is how I roll.
/* LATE EDIT: I will note that seeing this latter (I know! fancy language! 
) today after work while she was presiding during the freaking Pats and TT game, and I was chatting with a couple of acquaintances, one drunk, one good, and me in the middle, she was about over the top laughing at everything I said or every ordinary gesture I made, including me finding some random carabiner in my hi-vis vest from work to mark my glass while going outside for some air (was too tired/lazy to change after scuttling out of a very hectic day…I usually change into mufti after the j-o-b, but just didn’t feel like caring today, so I didn’t have my usual stuff in my pockets).
So, yeah, clearly she is putting in quite a bit of effort into TCB, and I’ve got to say I am interested in knowing what makes her engine run upstairs. Different enough from me that it’s of interest, and she is honest, has a good way of talking including light-hearted humor and a sass mouth, and she is straightforward in her outward presentation of self, as in psychological affect. She’s also about the appearance including height and other physical attributes I like my women, although I’ll just overlook the nose ring…whatevs. Yeah, she is a looker, and I admit I wouldn’t mind seeing her nekked and a bit more, but that’s perfectly average opinion for me about a number of women.
Fun gal, and she probably knows more about my personal life than my blood family, especially after her having overheard me re-seeing a woman I met last night who is starting a delivery contractor job at my place where I often yard marshall in the dispatch yard, and spent about twenty minutes talking to her in a friendly way about the way it goes down in da jungle and giving her (this separate woman, but the bartender overheard all of it, since, small place) some encouragement and a few ideas of what to expect.
Good lord, that’s probably enough ETA! 
*/
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‘The Evil Within’ is a ‘Resident Evil’ spinoff. I really don’t see it taking place in its own lore
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‘Overdrawn at the Memory Bank’ is a ‘Matrix’ prequel
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All right, here’s one more.
I think Carrie at work is starting to open up a bit. As is Sophie, but I’ll focus on Carrie. The “Sophie Situation” is also interesting, at least to me, but that will have to be another time. I don’t have a good read on that one, but the Carrie Situation is more straightforward and you won’t have to read my lewd thoughts so much in this case. Of course, I still have lewd thoughts, but as Carrie herself said once in a small conversational setting, “John, you’re a pervert, but you’re not a creep!” Which is true, I hope.
I think it’s a function of both of us taking on new roles over the past month that are very much hand-in-hand: she works entrance yard marshall, I work exit.
And we each know what that entails. And, yes, I am extremely good at commanding the delivery companies from the yard, and she knows I respect that she’s extremely good at her role. A lot of two-way radio contact, just like “John you ready?” “Bring it on, Carrie, you know I like it! Spots eight and thirty-six still out?” “Correct!” “Copy that! Let’s light this candle!”
We’ve been working together for almost a year, yadda yadda, and we’re friendly, and we have the same coworkers and just casual know a bit about one another’s life. And she curses like a drunken ship captain, despite having two grown children, three grandchildren, and for all the world looking like a very presentable woman (you know, clothes, grooming, nice safe late-model car, polite when she wishes).
Yeah, I’m just happy that she and I have kind of closed the gap a bit when it comes to trust and work-friendship.
Not that there was any “gap,” but it’s become a more intimate relationship, and I think that’s going to be mutually rewarding.
No, I don’t think she’s up for a quick roll in the hay, and she knows all about my BS and is likely not going to be having any of her valuable patience for that, but with her I’m glad to see our relationship evolving.
/* LATE EDIT: I think what it is is that, unlike some other coworkers whom I’ve known for quite a bit longer, Carrie’s never really had a “specialty.” Everyone, more or less, is trained on and can do a bunch of different things, but Carrie’s a relative newcomer to our small team.
And now she’s got this niche carved out in what is a relatively intellectually demanding role, as far as it goes.
So as she’s finding herself excelling at this task nobody really wants to do, and seeing me, her fellow compeer doing a similar task that only a few people on our team are pretty good at, she feels a bit of sympatico, as in “yeah, this is OK! and John gets it and gives me compliments and laughs at my jokes and understands my frustrations.”
So, that’s my pop psychology take on it. The Carrie Situation, that is! 
And, yes, that is a slight reference to Pulp Fiction, but that’s as far as the comparison goes, because ain’t no cleaning up pieces of skull and brain. Not yet anyway.
*/
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Fingal torched the sky. I knew it!
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I was watching this Taco Bell commercial, the one with the Saga cosplayers who lock eyes, and it looks like true love, until a bell rings and instead of going to him, she runs off to eat a burrito.
And I’m thinking, how many bad relationships has this woman had, that she’d prefer diarrhea to a boyfriend?
A half hour later, they run the ad again
And I’m hit with a more worrying thought - what if the fast-food giant is engaged in some twisted Pavlovian mind control experiment! Hear a bell, and off we go, like brain dead zombies.
Also, is the implication that burritos are better than sex, especially sex with a fellow cosplayer who reads the same comics? I mean, that guy could have been your soul mate, the father of your children, and you traded that for beans.
(Or rather, steak)
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Torn between “MST3K should riff that terrible NFT monkey cartoon” and “Please don’t. That would mean giving them money”.
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Saw the announcement of a contemporary Zorro movie and once again I’m wondering how loose an adaptation can be and still be considered an adaptation or still use the name, because this seems a bit Zorro in name only…
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I don’t think I’ll be looking for this one.
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I think his band really went downhill when Papa John Creach left, too.
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I think I’m going to continue my RL drunken bar-room patter consisting largely of “Hey, you can’t make that, son!” and “Hey mang, you think that Cheech think that shot you make is funny, mang?”
Because there have been no negative consequences as yet. But I’ve been cautioned, vide, “Stop saying ‘son’ so much or you gonna get your ass beat.’”
So far, nothing. And it’s been years. And years. And more years.
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Prosciutto science
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