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I am satisfied with my cooking. In honour of Ms. Brandname, I give you the following: JonasParker's Pork Chops --> n pork chops Preheat stove to "5". Place a chop in a large plate, or something, anything. Apply 25 pinches of oregano, 25 pinches of basil and 15 pinches of black pepper. Indiscriminately, yet very liberally, pour soy sauce on the chops (dump a goodly portion of the bottle on it). Turn over and repeat. Repeat the procedure for the rest of the chops. Or if you have enough space you can do all of the chops at once. Place as many chops as you can into the pan. Cook for about 7 minutes each side. Or whatever seems good to you. The idea is to keep them juicy and tender. Repeat for all chops. Hey, I'm not a cook, and I can't teach people how to cook, but I like what I like. 0 scrawls at the end of this hallThe look: The feel: The taste: ________________________ Sunday, May. 19, 2002 - 6:32 p.m. Unsatisfaction I just feel dissatisfied right now. Just a general dissatisfaction, yet there is something specific, too. I can't place it, though. I think that it has to do with me not being satisfied with the way I spent this weekend. It could have been...more...somehow. No real prospects for housing yet, either, although I did look at a loft for sale. It was beautiful, renovated two years ago. Standup shower with mini-jacuzzi. A brick wall. The current tenant has a fixation with Meg Ryan, it seems. She was all over the apartment. There was one picture with a quote: "I think I just have a deep distrust of authority." Who knew she was so, uh, deep? I was very close to asking my parents for help in the down payment, too, but in the end it didn't quite have everything I was looking for. So I feeling little bummed. Dissatisfied. I am not satisfied with the weather, either. It's going to be crappy summer, they say. 3) I am satisfied with friends, though. Friday was a success. Suj, Saab, Steph and Deb (one of these things just doesn't belong here, I just realized) came over to have wine, cheese and bread. There's a French ad for Boursin cheese that goes "Du pain, du vin, du Boursin". It was that kind of night. We went to a couple of places before settling on BilyKun. I love that place. The beautiful nubian goddess of a waitress even bought me a drink. I was inspired to wrote this entry today by waxpoetic. We are all alone, but why do I feel like a part of something? 0 scrawls at the end of this hallThe look: The feel: The taste: ________________________ Sunday, May. 19, 2002 - 1:29 p.m. Seven Dollars The contest is on. I am a candidate to WIN GENGHIS JON'S MONEY. So here goes: You see, I, like many of you, don't win much. I tried my luck at the big $34-million draw for Friday's Super 7 lottery. I think I won a free ticket, and no one has won it yet, so maybe my luck is changing, who can say? (Interesting facts: The odds of winning are 1 in 21 million, but consider this: In 1998, 4 people in Suffolk, England were all dealt perfect hands in whist. The odds of this are 1 in 2 235 197 406 895 366 368 301 599 999, More than 2 OCTILLION, I think. A number so huge that it scares me; makes me dizzy and ill. 4 perfect hands in whist? I think that�s less likely than the Moon crashing to Earth tomorrow. But anyway...) So when Jon gave me this chance, this one chance to win something, I felt... well I felt as lucky as a person being dealt a pair of Jacks (or better). Yes, it was like that. That's why I am going to make good on this challenge. Remember the episode of the Simpsons where the Germans buy the power plant? German Executive: You must have some good ideas for ze future as vell? -very long, drawn-out pause- German Executive #2: Such as...?? Homer dances gaily in a fantasy world made of chocolate. Taking bites out of houses, lamp posts and dogs. It all culminates in him discovering a chocolate store where all the chocolate is 50% off. Homer: La, lalalala, la! (still thinking about the chocolate) I can't say that I would go that far. I would probably just receive my winnings, no, earnings in the mail, then turn to my coworkers each and say, "Hey! Seven bucks!! Yeah! Yeah!! Seven Fucking DOLLARS! Look at that! Look! At! That!" And then I'd do a victory dance (Think:football). The rest of the day would be spent in smug superiority. I would tell my boss to go fuck himself if he decides to give me problems. I'd hang out all day with the secretary, I'd make journal entries here about nothing. I'd have email conversations with people about politics, technology and sex. Okay, so I would take that seven dollars, and buy a special for lunch from my ex-girlfriend. And when she'd thank me for the money. I'd say, "No, thank Jon!" Thank Jon, indeed. After I leave work, I'll be so confident that I'll call up R at school and say,"Hey baby, why don't you and I (fill in the blank, if you get my meaning) and she'll say yes. She'll even wonder why she blew me off in the first place. The next day, things will go back to normal, but for a brief moment in time, I will be a winner. Yeah right. I'll probably pin in it up somewhere to remember that some guy sent this in the mail because it was practically useless to him. But even that will be interesting all on its own. Can't wait to see if I won. 0 scrawls at the end of this hallThe look: The feel: The taste: ________________________ |
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