For the good people of earth,
I bring you swords and shields
and heavy boxes made of foam
of plush, and fluff.
You can bring your pillows,
your night gowns and your turbans,
as suits of armor against the long winter nights
EXT. HIGH WAY FILLED WITH CARS
The sun is blazing. Heat rises in bubbling waves from the
pavement. Traffic is backed up. It’s at a complete
standstill. Noise blares from open car windows as people
taunt some non-existent breeze. We come to a relatively old
car. Paint is thinning. There’s a big dent in it on the
INT. HAROLD’S CAR
Two people sitting in the front of the car. One a lumpy man;
bald, pot-belly, round glasses pushed up into wispy blond
hair. The other passenger is a very large woman, bulbous,
rotund, oozing unpleasant pale flesh from under a floral
moo-moo. She is loudly snacking on a big bag of Cheetos.
I’ve been promising for months to create a travel blog, cataloging my adventures in Spain!
Well, hey, I did it! Here it is!
Any thoughts or comments are greatly appreciated!
Don’t hesitate to email me if you want to chat! Follow me on Twitter at @taykcov for live updates of #108kitchenplates, starting September 1st!
Like most good things, there is a dark side to food. And I don’t mean the brown lumpy bits on over-ripe bananas. No, children, it’s worse. It is the seedy underbelly that destroys families and happiness and color. It is the reason Twix Bars don’t count as protein bars and cheesecake makes you sick after the fifth slice. Yes, there is a cruelty to the foods we eat and I’m here to warn you about the nasiest of them all. Continue reading 12 Reasons Why BitchBagel is the Jim Belushi of Foods
They say growing up is never easy. They say the world is changing and there isn’t much we can do about it. New problems arise for every generation, and it is the job of the following generation to fix them. But what if we’ve reached a point where the problems are more internal than external? What if we as a generation are quickly learning to forget the most basic human functions? What if we are forgetting how to love decently? Continue reading To Love Decently
. . . Often times, we do not know a good thing when we have it. In freshman year of high school, during Spanish class, we were presented with some of the classics: Jorge Luis Borges, Frederica Garcia Lorca and, of course, Pablo Neruda. But meeting him was like meeting a little boy in kindergarten and all he does is pinch your arms, or kick your chair, or pull your hair.