the IDIOT QUEST TASTE EXPLOSION

I became the city editor the The A.V. Club, Twin Cities. You can find me here.

I took the day off work. What do I look like on my days off, you ask? Mad. Blurry. Pink lipped. My eyes even turn into octagons, the kind of octagons that pierce your soul if you stare at them for too long.

And what does any normal boy do on his day off? (“Get into trouble!” screams the distant, troubled reading public in unison.) NO. Normal boys make curried lentil soup.

Thar she is: the soup that looks all baby poop. Delicious, when you’re not thinking about that. That. How can you not think about that. I look at the soup and my mind goes to that time my little niece, now only a handful of months old, had what was appropriately referred to as a “blowout.” I know what else you’re thinking, and I’m just going to say NO, I don’t not live in a crack den. Jordan decorates with Lady of Guadelupe candles and wooden camels, okay? Okay.

Don’t these carrots look like The Suck? If I were the grocery store that sold these to me I’d be shamed to the point that I’d bow out of the business. I DON’T CARE IF IT’S DECEMBER IN MINNESOTA.

A better view of the table. Those aren’t bars on our windows. They’re part of the Islamic-Renaissance styling of the manor, okay? It’s fancy, alright? Okay.

FACT: never has a camera been able to capture Shlomo’s eyes. Never. FACT: cats don’t care if the chair is set up. They just don’t. They’re going to sit there anyway. They might even pee on it a little to claim it as their own.

Sometimes wordpress is stupid and doesn’t allow me to flip the picture, so here we have Normie defying gravity, expectations of beauty.

I quit that novel I started in November, and now I don’t even remember what it was about, which is a great sign, right?!?

Things I’ve been doing: moving, working, holidaying. Things to come: working, holidaying, traveling.

HEY INTERNET,

I’m taking a month off from blogging so that I can participate in NaNoWriMo. I’m really really really excited to write a horrible novel in just one month’s time. I’ll let you know how badly it goes when I’m done.

LOVE,

MORD

I have a new post up on the City Pages food blog. Check ‘er out. Also, I was too busy this week to finish a single blog entry for IQTE, aside from this one. That means there are twice as many hot, hot photos for next week. Be excited. There are even baby shots. Also, I made the above graphic a year ago. I had to turn the photo into a graphic because I looked too fat in those clothes to just let that photo fly solo. Also also, I’m still too pudgy for those clothes. Time to throw?

My plan was to eat donuts from A Baker’s Wife while watching Twin Cities Marathon. This didn’t quite work out, and we ended up eating our pastries at the apartment, and then going on a walk along the Twin Cities Marathon path. Here’s something I found out: Just watching marathoners make me feel physically ill.

Jordan got and ate this caramel cake thingy. He seemed pleased. I think you can call the above photo an action shot, as the innards are dripping at a ferocious pace.This monster is something they called an American Teacake. It was amazing. I should note that the other side is coated in powdered suga’, natch.

Here’s a pic of the foamy latte I got at the race. I think this was only my fourth cup for the day.

Here’s an angry young citizen. One day he will be an angry old citizen.

Patriotism! Fall colors! People doing what? Who cares.

Here are some runners, walking.

Again, American teacake: more fascinating than a run.

Oh no! Someone’s mansion got TP’d!

Dogs are fascinating creatures. Especially if they’re smiley.

Let me guess: God hates runners? What would a marathon be without some extreme Evangelism?

I was considering making an album of people laying on the ground while watching the marathon. But they woulda all been kids, except for this dude.

This house had a nice shadow.

This girl was pretending to be a fire hydrant. The marathon was just “OK.”

This post is about what I didn’t eat in Vegas last March. I’ll be honest: the food I had there was un-delicious. And I became horribly sick one night after meeting with a piece of “supreme” pizza. To wit: I heaved and ho’d until I was depleted of vitals. We’re talking ILLNESS. And lots of it. Spewing from me. BUT I’M NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT. Above: My mom and sister ride an outdoor escalator. It’s early morning, and Vegas is sleeping, except for the people who are not sleeping and probably never will, not until they hit the pool at 11 a.m. and purchase a 4-foot-tall tropical rum-spiked beverage, the kind that comes in a plastic tube.

Above: My father’s below.

Above: The rest of my father.

Above: Here we see something just heartbreaking. Vegas is known for its homeless children who have Pre-gambler’s gambling addiction. It’s quite sad: they come out of the womb with a thirst for craps. They usually don’t become full-blown crappers until they turn legal, 21 here, and until then they wander the streets lying, looking sweet, telling people they’re “midwestern.” It’s estimated that Vegas has over 40,000 vagrant pre-gambling-addicted children. It’s not hard to snap a photo of one. Or two.

Above: Bloated has-been sighting.

Above: Though Vegas is more known for hookers-n’-blow than stunning modern architecture, this structure proves that Sin City is looking to get EXPENSIVE by adding straight lines and trippy skyscrapers that lean like Pisa, or a homey.

On Saturday I interviewed The Curry Diva. I wrote a post about the events she has coming up for the City Pages Hot Dish blog. Also, I’m currently having pineapple curry leftovers from Saturday. CURRY FTW!!! Also, blackberry brandy FTW!!!

I had a little carbo-load. I needed to prepare for an evening of couch sitting (my favorite kind of sitting).

Shlo goes psycho over tortellini! Not really. But he does go psycho over lettuce and kale. And chicken bones. And probably human bones too if he had the chance.

Ummm ingredients, DUR! I like things that are LEMONY.

Ummmm here we have some once-frozen artichokes and some fresh onions in a bath of bubbling EVOO that looks like a slick of urine.

IN THE END, there was feta. There is always feta in the end.