Archive for April, 2005

In praise of Yogurt

Monday, April 11th, 2005

Wow, this house is a lot more fucking work than I can describe. I keep trying to find my digital camera but I set it down somewhere, and now have two holes houses it could be lost in, both full of shit. I’m not going back over to the other house until I find my camera. If I don’t take pictures of me hanging drywall, what’s the point in having a camera?

Carolina won the national championship. Just think about that once in a while during your day. I know they say hitting a fast ball is the hardest thing to do in sports, and I’ll give them that. Winning the NCAA tournament is the second hardest. The only reason the fastball is harder is because you could sit there all day and never hit one, whereas eventually *someone* is gonna win the NCAA.

Okay, I tried some yogurt a week ago. There are a lot of you out there, and not *one* of you fuckers told me how good yogurt is. I’ve eaten ice cream my whole life, and that whole time I thought, “Way too cold and basically just one or two flavors, but still pretty fuckin’ good.” I’ve had creme brulee and thought, “Yeah, that’s the texture, that’s the complexity, but obviously I can only eat this shit about once a month.” Then, I went on antibiotics and my wife’s neurotic twitch made me eat yogurt with it.

(She said, “the antibiotics kill off the good bacteria with the bad bacteria, and the yogurt replaces the good bacteria.” Of course, if I take the antibiotic, and then ten minutes later eat the yogurt, why wouldn’t the antibiotic just go ahead and kill the extra good bacteria I’m putting in? I don’t think each pill goes in, does a sweep and then conks out. Otherwise, why are those pills the size of frisbees? I was about to argue, but I put a big spoon of the stuff in my mouth and forgot what I was talking about.)

Yogurt tastes like food. It has all the complexities of actual food taste. There is that fantastic mouth feel, the creaminess and the tackiness, like it’s coating your taste buds when you lick it off the spoon. And then, there is whatever flavor you’ve got, the vanilla or the fruit or whatever you’re eating with it. But on top of all of that is a serious tang that just cuts through all the bullshit.

It’s that tang that is missing in ice cream. Ice cream tastes like dessert, you wouldn’t eat only ice cream. Unless you’re a depressed overweight woman (OH SNAP!).

I’ve now taken to eat yogurt with almost every meal. And, of course, like anything I suddenly decide I want to include in my life, I’ve gone all over the internet looking up recipes.

It dawns on me that when I was living in Iowa I used to strain yogurt and use it in place of sour cream and other high calorie ingredients. So… I must have eaten it before.

Why don’t I remember?

Oh well. Look, this stuff is amazing. And they sell it *everywhere*. You can buy it at any deli in New York, you can get it by the *vat* in supermarkets.

If there’s something bad about yogurt, someone better let me know quick. Because I’m eating it right now, as I type this, and I intend on having it with every meal from now on.

Buyer’s Remourse? Naaa

Friday, April 1st, 2005

Just a couple of pictures of our new house today.

We are painting our bedroom in celebration of March Madness.

Of course, it doesn’t matter what color the room is, it is so frickin’ huge and awesome.

That was Jordana’s job. My job was the front room.

Which was so damned depressing, I ripped the ceiling out of the middle room.

And sure, that was ugly, but I figured under the panelling had to be a nice wall…
Holy Crap.

This place is a shithole.

Of course, it’s our shithole, so we’re psyched.

I came into the bedroom and said to Jordana, “There’s good news and bad news”. She said, “Tell me the bad news first.” I led her into the room where the panelling was pulled back and showed her that it’s basically studs and drywall, that we have *massive* mounts of work to do. She was nervous but not upset. “What’s the good news?” I started to smile and talk and she said, “Oh no, the good news is that you love me and we own this house, right?”

I didn’t say anything.

“No, it is good news, it is. It’s just… I already knew that good news. It isn’t actually *news*. It’s *old*.”

I had to give her that.

God, this place is a shithole.