The Cheeseblog

Quite by accident, yesterday I came across the livejournal of gordonzola . His cheese manifesto (the dec. 8 entry) is both fascinating and funny. Brings back those long, cold, smelly days at the cheese shop when every fourth customer, drowning in his own hilarity, recited Monty Python’s Cheese Shop sketch. And yeah, it was always men. Not once did a woman try it.

In other news, it’s JeanJean Bye Bye! Paul Martin Hello! Yesterday, I also found Paul Martin’s blog. As a Brit friend says, “It’s written by the same machine that makes candy floss.”

Now I am going to wait for my head to stop aching so I can get on with my day.

From the globe and mail:

AQUARIUS (Jan. 21 – Feb. 19):

If you think that your life has been a bit too tame of late you will change your mind over the next few days. In fact, so many unexpected things will happen that you may begin to wish the pace of life was not quite so hectic.
Why is it that your life always seems to swing between extremes? Is that how life works or is it just you?

I don’t read my horoscope to be presented with questions. I read my horoscope to be presented with answers, damnit.

1. Robert Downey Jr. has done a cover of “River” by Joni Mitchell. Apparently, years ago, for Ally McBeal’s holiday special. Can you see my lip curling?

2. Lady, if your 2 year old daughter wants to squeeze the oranges in the orange display, why not let her? We all squeeze the oranges. It’s fun to squeeze the oranges. Her 2-year-old grip will not harm the oranges. Is the principle of it all really worth the temper tantrum she’s throwing?

3. “The Man From Elysian Fields.” Don’t know why it seemed like a good idea. So bad I immediately forgot I had rented it and almost had to pay a late charge. Yiii! This movie featured Andy Garcia playing the least believable writer I have ever seen (oh, except the character’s name is Byron. Ha. Byron.) Should’ve rented The Core.

4. I was editing a document today. The person who created the document made consistent corrections to the many instances of the word “persion” (as in, “damn, those persions sure can blog!“) “Persion,” according to her, is what she meant to write.

I’m so excited: I just ate a banana! I haven’t eaten a banana since I was 10 years old and this evil Sunday school leader forced me to eat one, threatening me with hellfire & damnation if I disobeyed him.

OK, it was Sunday school, but no one threatened me. We were running relay races. After you ran over the tire, under the limbo stick, around the snapping crocodiles and through the hula hoop, you had to eat a banana and run back so your teammate could go. I’m not kidding. Now that I see it written down, I really wonder what the hell they were thinking. It had nothing to do with god. I’m sure they thought it was perfect: fitness and nutrition in the same game. So very wrong.

I was already pathologically opposed to bananas for reasons I don’t recall because I developed the opposition when I was 2 or 3. I was a picky kid who would actually gag and make herself barf if you forced her to eat something she didn’t like. But I’ve always been a team player.

I ate the banana, shoved it down, feeling its slimy, mushy, fibreyness against my tongue and down my throat. Details are fuzzy after that, but I seem to recall throwing up. Of course, that might be a lie. Over the years I’ve had to embellish the story somewhat because people are generally unsympathetic to grown women who are scared of fruit. But if you tell people you threw up, they think it’s serious and stop trying to make you “just try it! You might like it now that you’re 22!”

The unembellished truth is that I have not eaten a banana since that day. That doesn’t include bananas in breads, cookies, daquiris and those little marshmallow banana flavoured candies (of course I prefer strawberry). But a banana, peeled and broken off into mushy chunks and gummed up and swallowed, with an “Ah! Potassium!”? This, I have not eaten.

The other day, in the fruit store, I re-thought bananas. They are so convenient, so nutritious, so easy to consume. You pretty much don’t have to chew them. There are no seeds to spit, no white stuff on your hands like that left by oranges and grapefruit, no tough skin to dig through, no core to eat around, no shiny, pesticide-laden skin to peel, only to find bruises and god knows what else. (I’ve had a few bad apples.) Yes, I know that bananas have pesticides in them too. But the idea of removing the outside of the fruit, so easily, then eating the delicious inside has always appealed to me. Plus, I’m almost 30. Fruit cannot continue to rule me. I’ve got stuff to do.

So I bought four bananas. I stared at them for a few days and this morning I peeled one. It was just as satisfying to peel as I had imagined. I sniffed it: it smelled like banana. I wasn’t quite ready to bite right in, so I blended it with some milk and made a banana milkshake. And I only felt a little nauseous afterwards.

Please, go eat a banana – or whatever fruit you fear. If I can do it, you can do it.

We went to see “Elf” today. We went to an early matinee, the 12:05 show, which worked a treat. We had an empty parking lot to choose from and there were only 7 people in the theatre; only 4 of them were 10 year old boys. There was one nerd boy who kept trying to convince his friends, before the show, to go buy stamps with him.

“To put on letters and mail stuff!” he said, but they ignored him. I felt bad for him. He had messy hair and big glasses and he was very skinny. Someday he will be the boy of somebody’s dreams. He will be a rock star or multi-linguist. Or philatelist.

We were hungry before the movie. “No matter!” I said. “This is the theatre with the Taco Bell!”

I love Taco Bell, in part because I am from Vancouver and we don’t have as many Taco Bells here, and in part because I am disgusting. No, really. 40% of the people I know think so. But I don’t care. Bean burritos, Gorditas, Chalupas! Taco Bell does not lie and call their re-heated McCain Tater Tots “Mexi-Fries” the way Taco Time does. Taco Bell has regular, unapologetic, french fries. With goop on them; cheese product and salsa and green onions! Then they are called Fries Supreme! I will drive Far for a Taco Bell.

Of course, the best Taco Bell is in America, because you are paying in US dollars so it’s cheaper (no, no, shhh, I know about exchange rates) and because there are MORE OF THEM! Every two minutes! All along the highway! I get so excited – I don’t know why anyone in America eats anywhere else!

The other good thing about American Taco Bell is the FIRE SAUCE. In Canada -from what I’ve seen, and it’s hardly a thorough survey; I’ve never even been to the maritimes – there are two sizes of sauce: Mild and Hot. In America, there is also FIRE SAUCE! It is good. I like hot sauce and it’s pretty good for fast-food-sanctioned hot sauce. What does it say about Canadians that the powers that be think we can’t handle the FIRE SAUCE? Just because we’re further North, we like everything bland and mild? Screw you, hot sauce police! I will cross the border and I will return with my pockets full of undeclared FIRE SAUCE! I will eat it on everything and I will breathe my firey breath at you in disgust.

Anyway, one of the four Taco Bells in the greater Vancouver area is at this movie theatre, at Metrotown. So we traipse upstairs, buy our tickets for the movie and stand in front of the most confusing menu I’ve ever seen.

Taco: $1.21 (soft or hard)
Supreme Taco: $2.24 (soft or hard)
Burrito: $2.50 (soft)
Large Fries: $2.50
Fries Supreme: $3.50
Drink: $1.85

You with me? No problem. All good. What will I choose, hey, how about a combo.

Combo 1: 2 tacos (soft or hard), one order of fries, one drink, $8.50
Combo 2: 1 burrito, one drink: $5.50
Combo 3…

Hey, wait a sec…$1.21 + $1.21 + $2.00 + 1.85 = not $8.50. What kind of crack-addled…

We stand and stare for a few minutes. We stare at each other. Talking about it doesn’t make it easier. So we go back downstairs to the mall food fair and buy non-combined items from Burger King. Well – on principle is why.

Taco Bell would probably disappoint me a lot more frequently if I whipped my head out of the salsa every now & again and paid attention to all the horrible things they’re doing to children and puppies and migrant workers. But for now, I wish to retain what joy I do have. Don’t we all deserve a little ignorant joy? It’s a festive season, after all.

“Elf” was pretty funny. Since I began seeing ads, I have been inexplicably drawn to it. Saint Aardvark did not understand. He thought I was joking the first 17 times I said, “Let’s go see Elf!”

But it was a cute movie, directed by Jon Favreau, who is lovely and good and made Made also, which is a great movie. So – cute, Christmas movies don’t usually float my canoe but this one did. Off I paddle.

Saw a trailer for the big something-about-a-ring movie. Looks scary. Between the scenes near the end of the trailer, the screen (and voice-over guy) kept saying things like, “There is no security without sacrifice” and “There is no freedom without misery” and “There can be no joy without pain.” (I’m paraphrasing, here) I felt like I was being told to join the army. Well, hey, speak my language. Will you give me an endless supply of FIRE SAUCE if I join your army? Now we’re talking.