Everybody was very excited, in one way or another, about the Giants winning the Puppy Bowl today/yesterday. I'm pretty sure that there were multiple cryers. At least that and this proved the distractions I was looking for. I did not need much convincing, I knew then the same thing I'll demonstrate now and probably forever; I don't want to do homework.
I'm glad that I was surrounded by a hive of eighteen-year-olds that give a shit about "things and stuff" and in a part of the country so catalyzed by the New York vs. New England match-up.
Craig skipped a wing eating contest because they were too hot. They were just Buffalo and he didn't even try them. I am convinced that he is allergic to bold flavor. He also jumped ship on a raffle for an x-box 360 and I-don't-know what else because he doesn't need that stuff and had already lost the first two drawings. There were two more, and yes, you have to be present to win.
I have been more constructive and decided to rebrand chicken wing eating competitions as "chicken eating pageants" or "meat-chugging expositions." Pretty happy about that.
My resarch paper on spherification has turned out to be an abusive lover. Key terms in expressing what happens when who does what to what and why it does this has lead me to a very long and numbing exploration of hydrocolloids (available here--> http://www.cookingissues.com/primers/hydrocolloids-primer/ ). It is a website brought to us by some of the brilliant minds over at the FCI, one of the schools that I am destined to forever wonder if I should have attended instead of the lovely JWU. I was put off by the 10,000 dollar/month tuition paired with having to find a place to stay in NYC. That still would have been cheaper in the long run, as their program is only an intense six months.
I also found myself daydreaming about what kind of classmates I might have found myself among at FCI. I assume that they are driven, focussed, and functionally literate.
I was just interrupted by my child-minded little buddy seeking reluctant advice. "what does this mean?"
It means don't fucking talk to me while I have headphones on. "I don't know" it's not my homework. His teacher wanted individual portions. The first thing on the page is "Yields 4 Servings." "Divide everything by four" I says to him, I says.
"Oh, I just divide everything by four to get the individual servings."
It wasn't really a question anymore, more a mission statement. "Yes."
"Okay. Thanks."
No, no, thank you. Thank you for the irreversible harm being suffered by my internal systems as a result of internalizing rage and confusion. Think of it as homeostasis versus homo-erectus.
At least it was a few more minutes of neglect for me to show my paper.
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