Have you ever looked for a recipe online and found yourself having to read the author’s complete and unabridged autobiography before finally coming to the actual recipe?
Like, motherfucker, I just want to know how to make minestrone soup. Not how you Pavlov’s dog’d your children into liking olives or extraneous details about the finer points of water boiling you picked up from a cooking course you took while visiting Tuscany.
Seriously.
As most of you know, I live in Melbourne, Australia. In the very heart of the city. It’s a great place to live, more or less, and one of the perks of living here is the enormous amount of quality street art that adorns the walls of the many laneways and alleys that snake their way throughout the city.
Even some of the less than stellar quality pieces still have a certain charm.
It’s brilliant to have a constantly evolving gallery of free art to admire every time you walk to the train station, supermarket or pub. So, being the generous individual that I am, I thought I’d share some the works that spoke to me.
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AC/DC Lane, Melbourne, Australia.
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Take a look at trolleys/shopping carts in the foreground, then look at what is in the background not 15 feet away.
I… uh, I can’t even.
I see something like this and yet I’m still somehow surprised when people can’t grasp heavier, more abstract concepts. You know, like indicating when changing lanes.
Baby steps.
Over the past week or two the site has seen a significant uptick in traffic, which is what happens when you post content I guess.
Crazy.
After I posted about the overabundance of carrots in my stir fry mix (and how I forsook my rock & roll roots to Karen my little heart out about it,) I found myself reading about carrots on Wikipedia (because of course I did) and I came across the following :
“Carrots are a domesticated form of the wild carrot, Daucus carota, native to Europe and southwestern Asia.”
Once I wrapped my head around the idea that we eat domesticated carrots (!), all I could picture in my mind was a pack of fur clad wild carrots grunting at each other while hunting down other vegetables with spears.
There is nothing, nothing, worse than having wet socks.
…
Ok. Maybe polio.
…
Maybe.
You know you’ve lost a little of your rebellious roots and have become one of the bland, bourgeois middle class, when you call up Birds Eye to complain about the ratio of carrot to non-carrot vegetables in your Shanghai Stir Fry mix.
Has anyone in the history of the universe ever had a good night’s sleep and actually woken up fresh, re-energized, and ready to tackle the day?
