Sunday, April 11, 2010

We. Like. To. Party. ...

So ... you will notice that I had plenty of free time this week. Just because I couldn't breathe or exert any sort of energy or go more than 6 minutes without either coughing or snorting doesn't mean I couldn't stream Netflix.

Here is all the stuff I made and ate or watched or read!


FREAKING FOOD


Potato-Cheddar Chowder: I'm calling for a cease fire on the war against butter. Potatoes, butter, onions, sage, a roux, and then glops of cheddar, you'd have to try pretty hard to make it suck. This was so damn good. I left the skins on the potatoes because skins are good and I'm lazy.


Chinese Broccoli with Oyster Sauce: This one is from VT, which never posts recipes until the next issue is out. But it's pretty easy. nix oyster sauce, dry sherry, sugar, and sesame oil -- heat it up, put it on your Chinese broccoli or anything else that would taste better with a thick salty sauce. Fingers, included. I liked this a lot. Although, I don't really require a sauce to improve on my veggies, so this is just extraneous.



Grapefruit Clafouti
: This one is from VTimes, too. But you can find Clafouti recipes pretty damn easily. I've made one of these before and loved it. This one was not my favorite. Strawberries, cherries, raspberries. Even oranges would have been better. Lessen learned.


Strawberry Risotto: I went off-roading with blogs again, and landed on this recipe that sounded so interesting I had to try it -- even though I knew I'd be in it alone. Chuck doesn't like the mix of fruits with meats or not-suppose-to-be-sweet things. (There will never be pineapples on our pizza or a honey glaze on a ham. ... This is a small sacrifice I use to ensure there will never be wild mushroom ravioli). I liked this, but probably won't make it again. But I like that it exists.


PICTURE SHOWS
We Live In Public: Well. This was certainly an enjoyable hour and a half of my life. This documentary about Josh Harris, Internet soothsayer, is fascinating. He basically invents chat rooms, then Internet TV, then he goes on to set up a camera-saturated underground society in 1999 where100  people live in pods and have every moment recorded for a month. When the 50 busted that down, he and his girlfriend did an experiment of living online. They hung cameras all over their apartment, including in the crapper, and let the world log on, watch and comment on everything. Everyone goes loco. This documentary is so freaking amazing. A real talker. My head is spinning.

Don't You Forget About Me: Well thanks, Canada. You let seven inane douche lords break what could have been a decent documentary about the greatness of John Hughes. I hope you're happy. Somehow these film curious clowns got access to all sorts of Hughs heads include Kevin Smith, Andrew McCarthy, Cameron from Ferris, the Juno director, and freakin' Long Duck Dong to talk about the impact of John Hughes on teen movies. So they intersperse these great clips of his films, dialogue from the heavies, and the footage from their creepy road trip to Chicago to descend unannounced on Hughes' home, an area one of the worst documentarians refers to as "his sanctuary." They rent a big white van, and sit in the van talking and talking and talking about John Hughes in a way that is less insightful than it is interesting. They took something I would watch and rewatch on VH1 and turned it into a glorified home movie. They pull a Ferris cliche at the Sears tower, and then find Hughes' home where they are denied access. They leave him this film, their love letter, and a note. He pulls the ultimate twist on the fuckers.

This whole thing made me want to drive to Canada, show up unannounced on the doorstep of the director of this documentary, and make the asshole watch the home video of the time Fannie and I took a road trip to Santa Fe. I'm actually mad.

Big Fan: Every movie like this reminds me of "The Wrestler." Except this time it is a huge NY Giants fan, a regular caller on a middle of the night sports talk radio show who lives in his mom's basement and takes the waxes and wanes of his team personally. Then his idol beats the shit out of him at a strip club.

Whatever Works: This is a moderately drawn caricature of most Woody Allen films, but still is better than most of the movies I watch. If I can like a book because of one great sentence, I shouldn't feel weird about liking this movie because I laughed out loud three times at least. I wish I'd written down the funnies, though.

A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy: Yeah. I liked this one, too. Musical romantic alliances. This little mini Woody Allen marathon made for a fun Saturday night.

TOM BOOKERY
The Ask: A Novel by Sam Lipsyte: I was Sam Lipsyte’s bitch for the first 60 pages of his novel. I mean, he really had me in the zone. I was ready to sell my stuff, buy a psychedelic van, and follow him on a book tour until the restraining order caught up with me somewhere near Missoula.

Then I became exhausted. Sam Lipsyte is so freaking hilarious, too freaking hilarious, that I actually started to drown as I slogged through his super clever sentences and whack, sarcastic dialogue. I couldn’t follow the thin plot (really just seemingly an excuse to make said sentences, more than a story begging to be told); I couldn’t remember the lesser characters.

Verdict: Awesome chops. Exhaustingly hilarious.

Full review here.

Shoplifting from American Apparel (The Contemporary Art of the Novella) by Tao Lin: Of all the vapid crap in all the vapid world over, this is the vapid-est. I have not been able to get that word out of my head -- vapid! vapid! vapid! -- since I finished Tao Lin's vapid "it" novella "Shoplifting from American Apparel." A task completed over the course of an hour and a half that would have been better spent watching "16 and Pregnant."

True story: I read more than half of this in the cafe at Barnes & Noble and knew I hated it. But I still...more Of all the vapid crap in all the vapid world over, this is the vapid-est. I have not been able to get that word out of my head -- vapid! vapid! vapid! -- since I finished Tao Lin's vapid "it" novella "Shoplifting from American Apparel." A task completed over the course of an hour and a half that would have been better spent watching "16 and Pregnant."

Verdict: Oye.

Full review will be here.


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