E-mail: Brian7Morris "at" hotmail.com Archives March 2002 April 2002 May 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 current Blogs Mandapants farkleberries Uranium City Records The C.M. Sienko Foundation Storyteller Musings Solotarian Views Lynne Wiora Tek Poker News Blog Some Biscuits Evil Eye Emporium Niggling Doubts Pressure Release Sara as Mommy runswithscissors Defective Yeti Afternoon Delight trancejen The Terrarium Bird Nird Slipperily Tofu Hut Stereo Gum Links Fixed Gear Gallery Get Crafty This is Grand Featherproof Books Gapers Block Chicago Bird Watching	No one must know my terrible secret... House of Noh! Sunday, May 30, 2004 This morning on Three’s Company the dean of Jack’s cooking school selected Jack to represent the cooking school in the California Technical Schools Annual bake-off. The dean put a lot of pressure on Jack, too. I guess that Jack’s school has a long standing tradition of winning first place in the annual bake-off , and the dean had accumulated a whole display case full of trophies for blue ribbon cakes and strawberry torts and other baked desert items, and the dean was enthusiastic about getting another. This year‘s bakery item, the dean informed Jack, was to be mouse pies. With this much pressure on Jack’s shoulders, the few days before the contest were pretty much filled with aggressive sexual harassment of his roommates, baking prototype pies, and not much else. Unfortunately, just hours before the contest, while Jack was putting on his disco blazer and best bellbottoms to wear to the contest, Janet found Chrissy in the kitchen, already having eaten a slice of the pie that Jack has finally perfected and had planned on entering into the kitchen! But look, I know Chrissy takes a lot of heat for not being the brightest at times, but it wasn’t her fault. I mean, she and Janet had each been eating Jack’s prototype pies over the days leading up to the contest, so how was she to know that this specific pie was Jack’s final version that he was planning on entering into the contest? Regardless, without time for Jack to bake a new pie for the contest, both Janet and Chrissy were loathe to tell Jack about the loss of his pie. Fortunately, Janet came up with an idea. She and Chrissy enlisted Mrs. Roeper’s help to go to a store and buy a pie (incidentally, it appears that Mr. Roeper’s love-making skills are sub-par, although Mrs. Roeper was talking in innuendo so I can’t be sure), and then Janet kept Jack out the kitchen by employing a variety of comical hi-jinxs while Chrissy replaced Jack’s pie with one that Mrs. Roeper had bought at a store and disposed of Jack’s original pie, by eating it. The pie switch successful, the next scene found Jack, Chrissy, Janet, the dean of Jack’s cooking school, the judges, bystanders, and the Roepers among the many pies laid out on tables at the pie baking contest. (The unexplained presence of the Roepers at the pie-baking contest seems to be a small plot hole that I am willing to overlook). Just before the judges were to begin judging, Chrissy’s conscience got the better of her and she told Jack about the pie switch. Jack’s integrity as a chef compelled him to withdraw the pie from the contest, but the dean of the cooking school, bent on winning the baking trophy for the glory of his cooking school, was decidedly against withdrawing the pie from the contest. In the ensuing struggle over the pie between Jack and the dean, the pie was accidentally thrust into the face of the dominant judge, a Mr. Hoffman, owner/chef of Hoffman Bakeries, who sought his revenge by throwing a pie back into the face of the dean. The dean sidestepped and the pie hit Mr. Roeper in the face. After that it was a free-for-all, culminating in a climactic three-pie-strike to the dean, followed by a crown-chakra smothering pie smash by a leaping Mr. Roeper who had crept up with a pie behind the dean unawares. So there was a pie fight. Nothing special in second-rate television, I know, but the reason that I remark upon it this morning is because it did seem special this morning for some reason. Normally, my work weary, all jaded and cynical self would have probably seen the pie fight coming during the first scene in which the dean described the baking contest to Jack. Great! I would have thought sarcastically, half an hour of forced lead-up and deodorant and no-credit auto loan commercials progressing to nothing more than a contrived pie fight. But not today. Today everything seems fresh and new and it wasn’t until after the first salvo of pies had been thrown that I even realized where Three’s Company was going with the pie-baking contest, and I was like, “Holy Shit! It’s a pie fight!” This is the kind of morning, I’ve decided, based on my wonderment with this Three’s Company episode, that I need to do something for myself. I need to do something to improve my life. And this won’t be like all those other resolutions that I made and didn’t keep, like how I had resolved to pack a delicious tofu sandwich to take to work everyday made from a delicious homemade tofu loaf that I planned to make on weekends. Or to do more cooking with a cast-iron skillet. Or my plans to go find some film for that old Polaroid camera I bought at that thrift store so that I can FINALLY get around to taking some grainy pictures of my wang to leave rubber-banded in the silverware drawer of my apartment when I move out. Or, impressed as I am by the lightness and breathability of the material, construct a bicycle helmet out of scabs. See, all these good ideas! Maybe it’s because I’m just tired all the time from work, or maybe it’s just because I’m lazy, but I just haven’t had the time to do any of these things. I’ve made homemade tofu a grand total of one time, and I ate it all before the weekend was over so there was no workday sandwich making there. I don’t even own a cast-iron skillet. I’ve got no idea even where to begin looking for old grainy Polaroid film for that old camera. And that scab helmet thing, well, people say it’s just impractical, but I wouldn’t know because I haven’t even taken the time to give much thought to its construction. However, now that I think about it, a scab helmet would have its downsides. Knowing me, I’d probably start picking at it and wiggling it around as soon as it got a little loose on my head. And I’d probably pick it off a day before it was ready, leaving a little round bloody spot on the very top of my beluga whale-shaped skull that would congeal into a scab beanie that people at the office would probably see me absent-mindedly picking at while I read westlaw printouts at my desk whenever they’d walk by my office. And then I’d have to find someplace bigger to keep scabs than that old paperclip box in my top desk drawer in front of my letter opener next to that half-pack of gum that’s been there since I moved into that office. Okay, so I haven’t done any of the above things that I planned on doing. It’s time to accept that about myself and move on. Because today is fresh and new and different and I’ve got a plan that I’m going to stick to. From here on out, I’m going to point at people when I say goodbye to them (and no, I’m not going to cock my thumb like my pointing finger is a pistol or something because I’m not some kind of tool!). Joe A. and I have been seeing a lot of people pointing at others in the ground floor lobby of our building at work, and we both agree that a goodbye accompanied by pointing at the person is something that people do who are cool and know it too. Brian 5:41 PM Comments: Post a Comment

E-mail: Brian7Morris "at" hotmail.com

Blogs

Mandapants
farkleberries
Uranium City Records
The C.M. Sienko Foundation
Storyteller Musings
Solotarian Views
Lynne Wiora
Tek
Poker News Blog
Some Biscuits
Evil Eye Emporium
Niggling Doubts
Pressure Release
Sara as Mommy
runswithscissors
Defective Yeti
Afternoon Delight
trancejen
The Terrarium
Bird Nird
Slipperily
Tofu Hut
Stereo Gum

House of Noh!

Sunday, May 30, 2004

This morning on Three’s Company the dean of Jack’s cooking school selected Jack to represent the cooking school in the California Technical Schools Annual bake-off. The dean put a lot of pressure on Jack, too. I guess that Jack’s school has a long standing tradition of winning first place in the annual bake-off , and the dean had accumulated a whole display case full of trophies for blue ribbon cakes and strawberry torts and other baked desert items, and the dean was enthusiastic about getting another. This year‘s bakery item, the dean informed Jack, was to be mouse pies. With this much pressure on Jack’s shoulders, the few days before the contest were pretty much filled with aggressive sexual harassment of his roommates, baking prototype pies, and not much else. Unfortunately, just hours before the contest, while Jack was putting on his disco blazer and best bellbottoms to wear to the contest, Janet found Chrissy in the kitchen, already having eaten a slice of the pie that Jack has finally perfected and had planned on entering into the kitchen! But look, I know Chrissy takes a lot of heat for not being the brightest at times, but it wasn’t her fault. I mean, she and Janet had each been eating Jack’s prototype pies over the days leading up to the contest, so how was she to know that this specific pie was Jack’s final version that he was planning on entering into the contest? Regardless, without time for Jack to bake a new pie for the contest, both Janet and Chrissy were loathe to tell Jack about the loss of his pie. Fortunately, Janet came up with an idea. She and Chrissy enlisted Mrs. Roeper’s help to go to a store and buy a pie (incidentally, it appears that Mr. Roeper’s love-making skills are sub-par, although Mrs. Roeper was talking in innuendo so I can’t be sure), and then Janet kept Jack out the kitchen by employing a variety of comical hi-jinxs while Chrissy replaced Jack’s pie with one that Mrs. Roeper had bought at a store and disposed of Jack’s original pie, by eating it. The pie switch successful, the next scene found Jack, Chrissy, Janet, the dean of Jack’s cooking school, the judges, bystanders, and the Roepers among the many pies laid out on tables at the pie baking contest. (The unexplained presence of the Roepers at the pie-baking contest seems to be a small plot hole that I am willing to overlook). Just before the judges were to begin judging, Chrissy’s conscience got the better of her and she told Jack about the pie switch. Jack’s integrity as a chef compelled him to withdraw the pie from the contest, but the dean of the cooking school, bent on winning the baking trophy for the glory of his cooking school, was decidedly against withdrawing the pie from the contest. In the ensuing struggle over the pie between Jack and the dean, the pie was accidentally thrust into the face of the dominant judge, a Mr. Hoffman, owner/chef of Hoffman Bakeries, who sought his revenge by throwing a pie back into the face of the dean. The dean sidestepped and the pie hit Mr. Roeper in the face. After that it was a free-for-all, culminating in a climactic three-pie-strike to the dean, followed by a crown-chakra smothering pie smash by a leaping Mr. Roeper who had crept up with a pie behind the dean unawares. So there was a pie fight. Nothing special in second-rate television, I know, but the reason that I remark upon it this morning is because it did seem special this morning for some reason. Normally, my work weary, all jaded and cynical self would have probably seen the pie fight coming during the first scene in which the dean described the baking contest to Jack. Great! I would have thought sarcastically, half an hour of forced lead-up and deodorant and no-credit auto loan commercials progressing to nothing more than a contrived pie fight. But not today. Today everything seems fresh and new and it wasn’t until after the first salvo of pies had been thrown that I even realized where Three’s Company was going with the pie-baking contest, and I was like, “Holy Shit! It’s a pie fight!” This is the kind of morning, I’ve decided, based on my wonderment with this Three’s Company episode, that I need to do something for myself. I need to do something to improve my life. And this won’t be like all those other resolutions that I made and didn’t keep, like how I had resolved to pack a delicious tofu sandwich to take to work everyday made from a delicious homemade tofu loaf that I planned to make on weekends. Or to do more cooking with a cast-iron skillet. Or my plans to go find some film for that old Polaroid camera I bought at that thrift store so that I can FINALLY get around to taking some grainy pictures of my wang to leave rubber-banded in the silverware drawer of my apartment when I move out. Or, impressed as I am by the lightness and breathability of the material, construct a bicycle helmet out of scabs. See, all these good ideas! Maybe it’s because I’m just tired all the time from work, or maybe it’s just because I’m lazy, but I just haven’t had the time to do any of these things. I’ve made homemade tofu a grand total of one time, and I ate it all before the weekend was over so there was no workday sandwich making there. I don’t even own a cast-iron skillet. I’ve got no idea even where to begin looking for old grainy Polaroid film for that old camera. And that scab helmet thing, well, people say it’s just impractical, but I wouldn’t know because I haven’t even taken the time to give much thought to its construction. However, now that I think about it, a scab helmet would have its downsides. Knowing me, I’d probably start picking at it and wiggling it around as soon as it got a little loose on my head. And I’d probably pick it off a day before it was ready, leaving a little round bloody spot on the very top of my beluga whale-shaped skull that would congeal into a scab beanie that people at the office would probably see me absent-mindedly picking at while I read westlaw printouts at my desk whenever they’d walk by my office. And then I’d have to find someplace bigger to keep scabs than that old paperclip box in my top desk drawer in front of my letter opener next to that half-pack of gum that’s been there since I moved into that office. Okay, so I haven’t done any of the above things that I planned on doing. It’s time to accept that about myself and move on. Because today is fresh and new and different and I’ve got a plan that I’m going to stick to. From here on out, I’m going to point at people when I say goodbye to them (and no, I’m not going to cock my thumb like my pointing finger is a pistol or something because I’m not some kind of tool!). Joe A. and I have been seeing a lot of people pointing at others in the ground floor lobby of our building at work, and we both agree that a goodbye accompanied by pointing at the person is something that people do who are cool and know it too.

Brian 5:41 PM

Comments: Post a Comment

<< chicago blogs >>

Archives

Blogs

Links

No one must know my terrible secret...

House of Noh!

Sunday, May 30, 2004