2001-06-04 - 3:55 p.m.
Random overheard comment at the market last night:
"Jesus called to me. Just like that cocaine called to me."
I was up till about 1 a.m. trying to come up with a context for this. In the end, I simply fell back on an old, old Cheech and Chong sketch--"Before, I was all messed up on drugs. But since I�ve found the Lord, now I�m all messed up on the Lord."
Sometimes I really miss the �70s. Just sometimes.
***
It�s Monday morning and my apartment still smells of bacon. That should tell you all you need to know about Saturday�s Lesbian Pancake Invasion.
Man, do I know the coolest people in the world, or what? If you ever have the chance to spend some quality time with the folks from Atlanta, I highly recommend it. The great thing about hanging out with cool people is, the coolness rubs off. And since I�m already one of the coolest people in San Diego (or so I�m told), my coolness rubs off on them, and back and forth and back and forth--until eventually we�ve created a full-on quantum feedback loop of coolness right here. Voyager could have gotten back to the fucking Alpha Quadrant with the coolness that Badsnake, Sara, Jake, Deb, Uncle Joe and I served up this weekend.
(On second thought, no. Voyager was way too dorky a show. None of the characters would have had the first idea what to do with all that coolness. Except maybe that Chakotay guy with the tattoo on his face. Or the Borg chyk with the ta-tas.)
I�ll leave it to Bad to describe the festivities in detail. But to all of you I�d just like to say: Thank you for helping me to laugh at 70-year-old queens in painfully tight package-revealing cut-offs ... again.
***
The following reveals the winner of last night�s Iron Chef spectacular. Stop reading now if you don�t want to be spoilerized.
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OK. I�m convinced FujiTV has some sort of mandate from the Japanese government to make Americans look as boorish and uncouth as possible. Why else would they have picked Bobby Flay to represent us, both here and in last year�s New York Battle? In addition to being as obnoxiously fratboyish as ever, Flay also treated the viewing audience to a flawless display of good old-fashioned deep-fried American whiny self-pity. God only knows what he�d have done if he�d lost--probably write his congressman, or file a lawsuit. What a wanker.
That said, I actually think his dishes looked good this time. It�s a toss-up, but I probably would have voted for him. Morimoto-san seemed to be pulling his punches a bit and working on the assumption that Flay�s crudeness would repel the judges, while Flay himself appeared to put some genuine effort into his dishes, rather than just smother stuff in weird sauces like he did the first time.
As expected, however, the real star of the show was little Tommy Mothershead--a year older and a hundred miles farther down the Dark Path than when we last saw him. I swear, that kid�s got a cross-country killing spree in his future--and when it happens, some entrepreneur�s going to dig up a tape of last night�s show, freeze-frame it at the point when Morimoto loses and Tommy gives the camera that "die-die-allofyoudiedieDIE!!!" look, put that image on a T-shirt and sell millions to the same kind of alienated hesher-kids who buy Charles Manson shirts today.
Finally, there was Bobby Flay�s girlfriend. Can you say "skanky ho"? I knew you could.
***
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