Miscellany

With a few exceptions, “stressful” would be the only adequate way to describe the last three weeks.  One of those exceptions, however, was this last weekend, which rocked.  My wife and I celebrated our sixth anniversary with three days of massages, sushi, and goofing off and it was the best.  She’s the best thing since sliced bread and I love her to death and I just thought I’d say so publicly for no particular reason.

Every since my wife became a pastry chef, I’ve kinda been thrust into the culinary world along with her, which has been 97% fascinating and 3% horrifying (fish just shouldn’t come in jars).  As a result I’m privy to lots and lots of food talk.  I think I’ll take this opportunity to let it be known that I am not a “foodie”.  I’m a bit of a food snob, yes, but I don’t need a goddamn thermometer to grill a fucking chicken breast.  Rant…starting…must…resist.

Anyway, I hear a lot of food talk and hear about various trends and shit and one of the things I’ve been hearing a lot about in recent months is the combination of bacon and chocolate.  Now, I don’t care who you are, where you’ve been, or what you ate, if you’ve had this combination and liked it, you’re wrong.  It’s not a matter of opinion or taste, you’re just fucking wrong.  Combining these two foods is as bad an idea as combining a super expensive fine wine with rape.  It just shouldn’t happen.

So last weekend I went to the World Food Expo in Los Angeles with my wife and our niece, the fabulous Ayla, who is on her way to becoming a pastry chef.  Mostly, I sat around reading Sputnik Sweetheart, while the two of them hung out, but I spent about an hour or so walking around with them.  As you can imagine there were lots of food and drink samples being handed out (I had some sort of mango iced tea that I want to drink every day until I die), and of course one of those samples was a chocolate and bacon cookie, and I’m here to tell you it tasted like something that came from Satan’s pooper.  Chocolate-covered bacon is the fastest, most efficient way to ruin chocolate and, more importantly, bacon.  Whoever thought this up should be smacked.

I was talking to my dad a few weeks ago and he mentioned that Cousin Ed occasionally kills time reading this site.  Hi Cousin Ed!

The world doesn’t seem to agree with me that it should start giving me 1% of it’s overall wealth.  This annoys me no end.

Bank of America can eat a dick

My impossibly stupid boss, whose identity I’m seriously tempted to stop protecting, came into my office with her stupid goddamn dog the other day and said, “Hey Tim, I want you to take a picture of Mr. Spock.  He’s gonna be the new mascot for our company.”  She calls the dog Mr. Spock because it’s ears are pointy.  Oh, and because she’s fucking stupid.

“Hey, no problem,” I said, and on the inside my soul put it’s head in an oven.  So I took a bunch of pictures of her stupid goddamn dog and now I have to figure out a way to incorporate them into the web site without making it look incredibly unprofessional and (I’ve said this once or twice I think) stupid.

I wrote a ton more but it accidentally wound up taking on some structure and coherency so I think I’ll put it in a separate post.

UPDATE:  And then Howard, Prince Of Heinous, emailed me with this…horrible fucking thing called the KFC Skinwich.  It’s exactly what you’re afraid it is:

About

Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.

His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.

He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.

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