'She'll make point five past lightspeed. She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, kid. I've made a lot of special modifications myself.'
I was picking strawberries out in a field a few years ago. The other pickers in the field were people who worked there, all women, all attractive. One woman a few rows over said to the another, 'It's been so long, I can't remember the last time I got laid.' I looked over at her to see if she was serious, her tone suggested she was. I spent the next several hours filling flats and trying to wrap my mind around all that complaint implied.
My father's mother was from Tennessee. My mother's mother was from Texas. Deep South + South + poverty = po' po' (as my grandmother would have said).My mother did the cooking in our house. Therefore, the tone for traditional cuisine was set by my mother, even though it was her mother-in-law and grandmother's sisters that taught her to cook. Dad snacked on his trotters alone, washed down with beer. That's where mom drew the line. I don't think Mom ever made a pot of beans without throwing in a piece of side pork or a smoked ham hock, when she could get them. Chitlins in cornbread? - oh hell yes.
One of our fondest (read: mouthwatering) memories of vacationing on the Baja coast was buying deep fried pork rinds at the roadside stands, squeezing fresh lime juice over them with a dash of hot sauce and popping that greasy tasty mess in to our mouths. "Poverty cuisine" my Appalachian white Irish ass! That's good eatin'!
It would have been alright, John, if we Neatorama readers had gone on the rest of our lives believing there were some parts of the pig they just throw away.
How am I to go about delicately asking the waitperson if the dumpling has any asshole in it? As if the language barrier wasn't challenging enough. 'Can I get the dumplings asshole-free? I'm the designated driver. I'll be dealing with enough of those out on the road later in the evening.' If the customers gets food-poisoning, is the top suspect the box of pig rectums or the prep cook who didn't wash his/her hands?
King Lear might be a bit of a stretch, but apart from that, I couldn't think of any leads he'd be lousy at. I first noticed Dinklage in 'The Station Agent', and what it was about him that I'd stopped noticing - his height. His manner asks that we take him as seriously as he takes the character he's playing, and so we do.
There's a flip side to comics, where they're deadly serious, high intelligently and usually... complicated. Humor is how they cope. Keaton was a great choice for Batman. I don't find anything complicated about Ben Affleck. I think his brother, Casey, would have been a better choice.
I kinda had a thing for Spock, but to quote him: 'After a time, you may find that having is not so pleasing a thing after all as wanting. It is not logical, but it is often true.'
I'm old and I've been married for 34 years.
One of our fondest (read: mouthwatering) memories of vacationing on the Baja coast was buying deep fried pork rinds at the roadside stands, squeezing fresh lime juice over them with a dash of hot sauce and popping that greasy tasty mess in to our mouths. "Poverty cuisine" my Appalachian white Irish ass! That's good eatin'!
This chart was interesting: http://www.agricultured.org/what-else-are-by-products-used-for/
Man, it would be tough to be a vegan!
How am I to go about delicately asking the waitperson if the dumpling has any asshole in it? As if the language barrier wasn't challenging enough. 'Can I get the dumplings asshole-free? I'm the designated driver. I'll be dealing with enough of those out on the road later in the evening.' If the customers gets food-poisoning, is the top suspect the box of pig rectums or the prep cook who didn't wash his/her hands?