A recent outing in the rain revealed a rather passionate distaste for bagels and smear. Now let me be emphatically clear; I like bagels and I like them topped. So then how is it that smear got me all worked up? I detest when new words are invented to describe something which already exists. To me, smear represents the epitome of the trendy bagel re-branding campaign. Prior to the mid-2000s bagels were a ubiquitous ordinary food consumed by the middle-class in the comfort of their own home. You only had three flavors; plain, wheat, and cinnamon raisin. Then some brain child got the idea to make bagels classy. They became gourmet chic, an icon of healthy eating. Soon bagel eateries popped up all across this great land. Bagel sandwiches were far more hip than a simple turkey on rye. A smorgasbord of bagel options appeared overnight and with it a plethora of topping options. But to complete this culinary mirage one could not just top boiled artisan breads with cream cheeses, no they required an entirely new topping. Enter the smear (to sarcastic trumpets). Simply put a smear is a whipped flavored cream cheese. Let's dig a bit deeper. Whipped: the incorporation of air into the cream cheese. This allows easier spreading, genius. It also leads to you consuming less, marketing genius. So now I think I am eating something healthier cause the calories of smear are less than cream cheese, when all I am really doing is consuming less cream cheese with a side of air and paying more for it. If this wasn't bad enough, they gave us the word smear. If you are going to invent a word for whipped cream cheese, it could have been anything; or at least something more appetizing. The act of smearing is not terribly appetizing. Why didn't they just call it 'plop'? I mean it is a similar action, is equally as appetizing, and one letter shorter. You could walk up and order your Pumpernickle bagel with honey almond* plop, toasted and sliced, to go please. What is next; gourmet doughnuts? *By the way your plop contains nuts.
The other day I was reminded of a few simple things that can take an ordinarily beautiful woman and propel her into the accolades of stunning. I am driving home after another mindless across town nothingness; my mind wandering as the vuvuzela humming drones on the radio. Everything about this moment is ordinary. My mind and body content in the moment. Only something magnificent could shake me from the mechanized commitment to my drive home. And then it happens as I approach the next incessant red light. A motorcycle now occupies the space in front of me. My eyes drift and I find myself staring at this person lit perfectly atop her motorcycle. At least I hope it is a her, but how can I know? The purely utilitarian nature of her wardrobe offers no hints to her gender. I mean chances are probably greater that I am now staring at some man on his bike admiring his ass. This possibility worries me and I find increased desire for this to be a most attractive woman. A girl on a bike is hot. Green light. Off she accelerates, weaving between cars letting the power of the engine propel her at will. I struggle to keep up....who am I kidding. The four cylinders of my 88' Camry putt down the pavement, broken-in shocks whining with each bump, a bent antennae proudly proclaiming my fiscal constraint. Watching her go not only makes her more elusive and thus hotter; but watching her delicate and comfortable control of the machine makes her stunning. Like the tortoise in some childhood fairy tale I plod on. Approaching the next stop light, I come to rest next to her just before the light turns green. She lift her visor and our eyes meet. They are raven black and flicker with an unbridled quest for living. And they are a woman's eyes. Her arrow turns green, slamming her visor down she banks left and away. Leaving me to discover one final secret about her. As she banks the sunlight cracks upon her neck revealing a small tattoo. Who was this most epic woman on a bike with a tat?
This past week I had a rather frightening experience. My friends and I had decided to tailgate before the Sounders game at Pier 60. This is the pier located just north of the aquarium, the totally empty pier where occasional concerts are had. So four of us show up before hand, each enjoying the nectar of rather larger Rainers. The day is warm and beautiful, the beer cold, and all in the company of good friends. It seems like this will be a wonderful evening. Then some young stunt bike wannabes come up. They relocate quite a distance from us. Now I would have pegged them for the crystal meth type, but no they were just good NW toking punks. Our conversations continue the salt air now mixing with BC bud. All is good in the world; until we hear the commotion on the Sound behind us. The noise is coming from one of those private party cruises. But this private party was terrifying. At first I thought that perhaps I had consumed some bad Yakima hops. This was to no avail. There was indeed a Furry cruise going by. Now if you don't know what a furry is please do not google it. Just follow this link and read. You will thank me. Never in all my life have I seen something so bizarre. I felt sorry for the captain. Needless to say we downed our last beers and rode to the match; which the Sounders won.
Yesterday marked my first meatless Monday. Recently I have decided to undertake a new personal endeavour, one of vegetarianism. So to begin I have committed to eating nothing with a face every Monday, or Meatless Mondays as I elect to call it. This is not some self-entitled extremists quest. Simply put I chose to do this for two reasons. First, to reduce my carbon footprint. And second to pare down my resource consumption to be more on par with the greater world. But that is not to say that this current attempt will not yield health benefits while contributing to a more humane approach to our treatment of animals. So for now I give it a go and see how I feel. If I find that my energy remains consistent all the while reducing my carbon footprint and food costs, then I may look to expand. In time you may find I reserve the consumption of meat to weekends. For now I have reduced my meat consumption carbon footprint by 14% annually.
06 June 2010
Oh to live among the clouds.
Within the cumulus comfort, sun kissed between the vaporless arroyos.
To welcome the morning glint and praise the setting magnificence somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow.
Although not a World Cup commercial, this Adidas ad does a fantastic job of combining soccer and Star Wars. The banter with Beckham is priceless. Well done Adidas.
