Happy Thanksfusion

It's no secret that I love food/cooking/baking/mixology. The whole deal. Those who know me well enough, know of my slight [sic] addiction the Food Network, my mounds of cooking mags/books, my love of hosting dinner parties and my desire to learn about the origin, science and cultural impact of food (for those of you who share that interest, or have any curiosity about the chemistry/history of gastronomy, I really recommend picking up Harold McGee's On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen. A food-lover's dream.) If it was up to me, I'd spend all day in the kitchen (ideally, one of those cool, top-of-the-line ones with gas ranges and stainless steel everything), preparing meals for the people I love (luckily for you, I love many). Much to the chagrin of the flames of my teenage feminism, I am a domestic soul at heart.

I get especially excited about trying different ethnic cuisines (are we still allowed to say "ethnic"? Do I care?) Montreal has its pick of worldly restaurants, but my philosophy has always been, if you can make it at home, why not? And, thanks to the Internet, you'll find shit* that you would have never tried before, wowing yourself and everyone else in the process.

All this to say that this year's Thanksgiving was a fun one. Yes, I had the huge Turkey-with-the-works meal that my Mom and Nonna make so well, but Raeanne (my radio and Jean-Talon Market partner) and I decided to fuck with tradition and make Indian on Saturday. We're both obsessed with naan and have the hots for Ramasutra (ok, maybe that's just me, but come on, he's hot), and our recent visits to two of my favourite Indian restos, Mysore and Bombay Choupati, just fueled our fire.

One of the most amazing dishes I've ever had, and continue to enjoy, is Bombay Choupati's Chole Chaat. It's a potato/chick pea/tamarind/yogurt/coriander food thing that is as close to a food orgasm as it can get. I can't really describe it; you'd have to try it for yourself (I've tried it at several different places, but none compare to Bombay's version).

Chole Chaat [from Bombay Choupati]

This dish, for the time being, was off the agenda (I didn't want to mess with it just yet); instead, I decided to attempt tarka dal, my other stomach pleaser (for this, Mysore tops the list) and homemade chapatis. Rae was going to try to recreate a potato-spinach curry plate she had (also at Mysore). After a day of shopping at J-T Market and finding out what the hell asafoetida was, we finished the meal.

The result? Success! Not only did Rae and I discover just how kitchen compatible we were (should we ever decide to bat for the other team, we're getting married), but the food was damn tasty. My tarka dal, while not as layered as Mysore's version, was still yummy. Rae's on-the-fly potato curry dish rocked (it was brought to new heights by an improvised addition of pineapple curry sauce she purchased in Amsterdam). The chapatis were a bit of a FAIL, though Rae and her fiance, Denis, were too nice to say otherwise. For some reason, they didn't puff up...I blame the wok I made them in completely. And myself, for losing the war on flat bread. Still, all and all, our experiment yielded awesome results.

What truly made the night, though, was our catapult back into "holiday" spirit with the pumpkin pie Rae had prepared for dessert. While we were knocked semi-conscious by the mix and thus had to rain-check our Rock Band band practice, the meal kept us laughing all night. Therefore, Curry + Lager + Pumpkin Pie = Best Thanksgiving Ever. Next Thanksgiving, I'm making Yemini.

Homemade Indian FTW

"Changes in my life / I've *GOT* you by my side"

I just realized something.

Okay.

I didn't just realized it. Nor did I just realized it. (Confused yet?)

This blogspot hasn't been updated in ages. Mainly due to the fact that life after Facebook is a very strange place. Also partly because after grad-school bitching, what is there to talk about really?

There's plenty. So I will revive this. From the ashes, a new blog will rise...stronger and more outrageously awesome than the last.

Are you ready for it? I hope so.

Oh, and this colour scheme will go. Oh, there will be changes...

* Sad thing is that the only people who understand this reference won't even read this.

Die you zombie fruit flies! Die! Die!

Why is it that I only manage to write (original) notes when I'm just about losing my mind with paper writing? Is that all I'm good at? Complaining about writing (and, therefore, penning my own irony?)

I'm at that point in the evening after having spent all day writing / researching/ eating / writing some more / watching TV / revising / pacing / rethinking / talking on phone / reconsidering / mental exhaustion / descending into discouragement / self-doubt / self-loathing / transference of anger on paper, the Victorians, the course, prof, school, my entire academic career, back to me etc, etc

AND WHERE ARE THESE FRUIT FLIES FROM HELL SPAWNING FROM?

Yeah, it just might be that time to call it a night. I look forward to future ramblings containing light-hearted, happy thoughts.

HAPPY. happy. HAPPY. happy.

Yeah, I like Zoolander. Deal with it.

Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast...hopefully.

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This pointless, self-absorbed blog has been brought to you by the letter Q. Just because it can never stand alone.

Kyss Thys

I hate Malory.

I hate Lancelot. I hate Gwinevere. I hate chivalry. I hate adultery. I hate sexuality.

I hate Middle English. I hate Medieval scholars. I hate this paper.

And as for the Grail, yeah, I hate that too.

They Only Come Out At Night

I just killed the ugliest, biggest fucking creature ever. Here I am, in my basement, typing away at my computer, pondering bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a black furry thing moving. I look, and there it is -- a 3-inch insect from hell. I had just enough time to freeze in my position before it scurried under the book shelf.

In shock, I just sat there wondering if I was hallucinating. If I had seen what I had just seen, there was no way I was going to bed with that thing still alive and crawling around my place (even though my bed is in another room entirely, one can never be to cautious). After about 10 minutes of just staring at that stupid shelf, the billion-legged monster creeped out and went running under my school bag (mental note: never leave my school bag, and anything else, on the floor again). I scanned the room for something, anything, to kill it. I was hoping to have enough proximity as possible between myself and the Thing, but since I didn't have a fire hose on hand, I had to settle for my slipper. My poor, pretty little ballet slipper. I mustered up the courage to walk to my schoolbag with the hope that it wouldn't just sprint out at me (I would have been a dead woman, otherwise); thankfully, as if knowing about its own tragic demise, it moved with trepidation. I then abhorrently squished it with said slipper (that poor, pretty little slipper) and of course, it didn't die right away so i had to squish it even harder.

EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

WWWWW.

Goose-bumped, I ran to my computer to check up what this thing could be. Turns out, it's a house centipede. A website aptly said that it looked like a moving hairbrush. Apparently, these bugs are really "friendly" and they kill spiders and other household pest......uhhh, how is this not a pest? How is this even posited as being a human "friend"???

Wonderful. Now I cannot sleep. I just feel like this centipede thing is crawling up my arms. I am probably going to dream about it. Maybe I will even end up having supper with it one day, just because I'm lucky like that.

I am not moving that shoe for a week. Does exoskeleton evaporate? (Please say yes.)

The Soundrack of My Life on Party Shuffle

IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE, WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?

So, here's how it works:

1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool...

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Opening Credits: Ladytron - "Laughing Cavelier"
Sounds like something from the Dr. Who soundtrack. Perfect. (Did anyone else watch it as a kid and wonder how the hell that computerized office fit in a phone booth?)

Waking Up: Medeski, Martin and Wood - "Mami Gato"
If I could wake up in this type of jazzy mood each morning, I wouldn't hate my life so much.

First Day At School: Wintersleep - "Migration"
If I have to migrate to another "first day at school," I will kill myself.

Falling In Love: The Kills (covering Serge Gainsbourg) - "I Call It Art"
Yes, I'm that pretentious.

Sex Scene: MSTRKRFRT - "She's Good For Business"
It's funny 'cause it's true.

Fight Song: Air - "Photograph"
I love you Air, but I'm so not fucking fighting to your limp-wristed, vanilla lullabies.

Breaking Up: Eagles Of Death Metal - "Poor Doggy"
Nothing like reducing your ex to a dog. Or maybe doing it doggy one more time for the road. Whatever the case, it works.

Prom: Lush - "Ocean"
If they played this at my prom, I would have been one happy starry-eyed, shoe-gazing, hormonally-charged 17-year old.

Life's OK: The Strokes - "Electricityscape"
Life would be A-OK if I was in NYC with Julian and company.

Mental Breakdown: Beck - "Static"
I'm breaking down as we speak.

Quitting Shit Job: Half-Life 2 Soundtrack - "Lab Practicum"
The fact that I have this song in iTunes is a testament to why I -- and the person who sent me this track -- should stop gaming and get back to work.

Driving: The Rapture - "Out of the Races and Onto the Tracks"
Not only apropos, but fucking hot.

Flashback: Jackson and his Computer Band - "Moto"
Jackson can flash my back any day. Wiki him and you'll understand.

Getting Back Together: The Magnetic Fields - "Underwear"
The only reason to get back together, really.

Birth of Child: The Arcade Fire - "Headlights Look Like Diamonds"
Can the father of the child be Win Butler? No? Fuck it, then.

Wedding: Supergrass - "Run"
Indeed.

Final Battle: The Vines - "Gross Out"
It would be a minute-long fight, but dammit, it would be fucking crazy.

Death Scene: Boards of Canada - "Tears From the Compound Eye"
YES.

Funeral Song: vitaminsforyou - "Everything is Always"
My funeral song will not sound like postmodern fluff.

End Credits: Roni Size - "The Streets"
Fuck this, let's dance.

Pigeons Go Doggy; Spring Arrives

Well -- it looks like Spring is here. Not only is the sun shining, the wind a gnat's wing less frigid, and people's blood flowing a little more excitedly, but the pigeons are doing it.

Today, as I was sitting at the triangular benches outside the Hall building on McKay -- the ones I've managed to chill out on every Spring for 7 years (yeah, I *really* need to leave Concordia) -- I witnessed one pigeon of unidentified sex beaking (perhaps prepping?) its own gonads. In flies bird number two and they start making out like it means something (anyone who has birds and has ever kissed someone in front of them knows that Blue Budgie and Yellow Budgie quickly pick up the habit). Then one of the pigeons (whom we assume was the male, but one's never too sure) jumps on the other's back and they started getting funky, until a passing student yells "get a room!" and the two lustbirds fly off in shame.

Needless to say, love, and Spring, are in the air.