Since we’ve been home, we’ve been watching a lot of Food Network, and doing a lot of cooking. I actually started a very normal habit of buying Martha Stewart Living every time we go to the Costco (it doesn’t get more normal and boring than that, really, and I apologise if that doesn’t meet your expectations). Anyhow, my department in the kitchen is baking. I do desserts, cookies, pies, etc. Next week my friend Stacey is teacching me how to make preserves. Murray, however, has really excelled. He makes amazing dinners, and last night cooked some killer roasted veg with leeks, potatoes and orange and yellow carrots. We get our produce from the market and try to buy everything local, or grown in Quebec. Then there was BBQ corn, veggie sausages with tomato sauce, and arugula and radicchio salad with cherry tomatoes we grew in the backyard. Then he made this Nutrageous and Haagen Das Blizzard that was really just too sweet, but I had to eat it. Him and Rob sometimes get together and plan out a whole menu; Rob rocked a killer Grandma Pizza last week (inspired by one they had in Brooklyn with Scott when Murray was mixing GOL) and the Ceasar salad is near perfect. So we are eating well, but I’ve been trying to convince Murray to start a food blog. He wants to pitch a cooking show, but I think he should start with a blog. Anyway we’ve been taking pics of his dinners once they’re plated (yeah, that’s right, he plates) so maybe I will take notes, or video short clips, or just let it be. In any event, I love it…so there will be news to come on whether or not that blog happens…
Where do journalists get their information? Even more frightening is the question of how bloggers get their information. Just this week I’ve read the following:
1) Gang of Losers was written by Krief (link to source): WRONG. If the journo had eyes, and knew how to read, they would see that Murray is the only writer for The Dears.
2) Jace Lasek of the Besnard Lakes produced The Dears (link to source): WRONG. We have never recorded with him in any capacity, though we have shared several laffs over dinner.
I mean seriously. Is that how quickly scandal happens? I guess with the blogoshpere being a free for all, and the lines between credible journalism and blogging getting totally blurred, real information is losing meaning. Fantasy is better…why else would Perez Hilton be so popular? I mean I’ve had to correct total lies on our Wikipedia page, and people consider that as a definitive resource. I can handle being dissed, but I can’t handle people not having their facts straight, or getting interpretive, or just perpetuating untruth.
Hello readers! I am going away until Friday, to a place far away where there is no WiFi. I promise to write and post a bunch of crap when I get back! Until then, then.
To all five of you who actually read my blog,
Sorry things have been so lame around here. For the past week, I’ve been fighting a lingering and really annoying stomach flu. I feel weak and wobbly all the time and thinking for more than two seconds about a single topic is impossible. TV has been treating me well, though even that gets boring after a while. I watch Neptune play in the backyard, which is probably the best use of my time. She plays in her sandbox or slides down the little slide or picks flowers and brings them to me. Sometimes she yanks off a piece of chive and eats it. She says: “nun-yon!” and its really cute, especially when she comes over to give me a cuddle with her crazy onion breath. Otherwise I’ve been totally spaced out. I have also been wandering the web and recently checked out Perez Hilton’s celebrity blog. It’s pretty unremarkable, but I’m totally fascinated with the way he trashes Avril Lavigne. He hates her so hardcore and says really harsh stuff but I am wholly entertained so that’s OK. I recommend you read Perez Hilton’s Canadialand.
I pledge to blog more this week, though that is pending on me getting better. Until then.
I realised that when we have friends over for dinner, I get a little OCD when it comes time to load the dishwasher. I hover like a hungry vulture, watching our guests’ every move, just waiting for an inadvertent slip up: “Oh those knives don’t go in, and neither do the wood things…you’ll have to put the big plates along the side…and make sure the thing can spin…” when I know I won’t be able to go to sleep until I redo it. The last time I got better; I had to call myself on it and step away from the kitchen. Other people know how to use dishwashers, I remind myself.
Wow this must be the world’s most boring blog. Actually I did a search for “World’s Most Boring Blog” and found a few blog dedicated to being extremely boring. I tried to read a few but they were excruciating. The attention to mundane details makes it even impossible to scan through, you know when you just want to get the gist of it. That was boring and I want the last five seconds of my life back. In fact, I am so bored at writing this boring blog about boringness that I wish I knew how to not only get the last ten minutes of my life back, but somehow refund all my readers of their time as well.
Why so boring? I started typing an explanation and realised immediately it would be too spicy so there is no reason. Instead I’ll just say that we went to Rockland mall today and there was a parrot at the pet store that said “Bye” and waved it’s foot. I don’t recall pet stores being that fun…this place was like a safari-themed amusement park with a giant turtle pond and talking birds! I recall pet shops being depressing: stinky and overcrowded, walls lined with caged creatures, great and small. Who buys a dog or cat anyway? I can understand having to seek out a domestic fish or rodent, but dogs and cats? I grew up with runts, strays and mutts. They are more balanced animals. I say if you can’t help an animal from the shelter, then what’s the point? Some people on this earth don’t even have food, and we go nuts over getting the perfect pet, feeding it prefect food, making sure it is thoroughly pampered, just to make ourselves feel good about ourselves. Anyway, that said, I know people who think having kids is a selfish and greedy act, so everyone is entitled to their opinion. Besides, some of my best friends are pure-bred.
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Dears lookalikes: George’s is best:
Might be the best Dears video for the song No Cities Left:
Why are we fascinated with suffering? Obviously we try to avoid all forms of suffering, yet we can’t leave it be. Take the “coming of age” story: growing up is the single most definite, painful, and – dare I say – excruciating ten years of our lives (for some it never ends). The sucky thing is that adolescence gets piled right on top of whatever other crap life had in store: poverty, hunger, hateful family, bad luck, bad health, bad breaks, or just plain being born under the wrong sign. Just when life seems like its going to start to get interesting, it turns to bollocks. Right when the idea of independence ruminates, when self-awareness buds, the sh*t-storm gathers in the sky and rains down, long and hard. So then why were “The Wonder Years” and “Malcolm in the Middle” so huge? Because we love the pain. We glory in escaping from our own pathetic lives into someone else’s more pathetic life. Masochists! Bring on the crap, because we’re all in it. We are it. It’s therapudic, because together we’re all beautifully pathetic and unfortunate losers.
Picking a username is like picking a dj name. I used to dj before everyone was a dj: I was pre-iPod. I lugged a huge carrier bag of CDs (retardedly, still in their cases) to the Bifteck two or three nights a week. Then I destroyed the shoulder strap (and my shoulder) of several Salvation Army-acquired bags carrying vintage Phase 4 and Perez Prado vynils to Blizzarts Sunday nights. That’s where I was implored to come up with something more clever than: “DJ Natalia” or the even more hated: “DJ Natalia Yanchak.” They were printing flyers and even though nobody came to our night, I agonized over the name. Still I came up with nothing. Its idiotic. I already have a name. That’s what a name is for: to identify youself. So. Welcome to my blog, aptly named after me, the author. What to expect? I’m not sure yet, but I assume it will shape itself. I can only guarantee the occasional nugget of darkness, which attracts us to blogs in the first place.