Wednesday, August 15, 2012

The Wayfarer

It's about that time of year again when summer's coming to an end and you can finally stop worrying about how your thighs look like in your Levi cutoffs and the sweat that might be lining your upper lip. Soon, cool breezes will be wafting the smell of steaming-hot dog piss off the streets of New York and being hungover in the train station won't automatically mean that you're going to throw up from the putrid scents that have been marinating below the sidewalk.

And even though I can't wait for it to cool down, I will miss all the good things that come with summer. Particularly, escaping the city and the long drives to the beach while inaudibly blaring Beat Happening through busted-out speakers, and the hilarity that ensues as my friends yell at each other when we get lost on the BQE. I'll miss being able to blame my greasy bangs, 4-day pony tails, and my sweaty back on the sweltering heat that makes me too lazy to do keep up with my own cleanliness. There's also the "it's too hot outside to even leave the apartment" excuse when I just want to be a hermit for five days in a row that I'll miss. And of course, there's the "I'm blowing all my money because I just want to have fun while I still can and not think of anybody but myself" logic that I won't be able to use anymore. 

Which reminds me, I've got to come up with some new weather-based excuses for Fall.

But most importantly, I'm sad to say goodbye to rooftop barbecues and getting day drunk in the sun. I won't miss when I accidentally take a swig of gin from a mysterious water bottle that's left over in my backpack from park parties that have filled my Sundays. But anyway, as a goodbye to sweet, sweet summertime, I'm saying farewell and metaphorically smashing this grilled cheese up against a yacht to bid adieu to a summer that has surely had its ups and downs. And what better way to send off this season than with a grilled cheese that encapsulates the sweetness, the burn, and the crispiness that came along with these last few months. Sweet and smokey barbecue, hot and spicy pickled jalapenos, , and rich and creamy caramelized onion cheese that's all grilled between a smashed hamburger bun is what it's all about. So yeah, peace out summaaaa time.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

The Buffer

So after writing last week's post and reading all of your comments, I've been drinking a lot thinking a lot. Can failed relationships really that fun to read about? Although I think that y'all actually liked my sob story (seriously, thanks for the comments), I feel as if last week's post may have pulled some heartstrings and might have made you feel bad for me. I know that everyone can relate to heartbreak, but that's not what I want this blog to be about. I want it to be about ridiculous stories and awesome grilled cheese sandwiches. So here's one funny breakup story to even me out from last week's disaster.

When I was a junior in college, I was recently single and was inadvertently rebounding with hot, tall, kind-hearted pianist dude who was a super-talented with his mouth. Although I had no real interest in playing the piano, my id told me it was a good time to start. I'd taken lessons when I was younger but quit when my piano instructor, who was about three hundred years old, died - just days before my first recital. After telling him about my unfortunate piano history and how I had always wanted to know how to tickle the ivories, he told me he'd give me some lessons. Of course, being the opportunist that I am, I went with it. So after a sessions of hanging out on his bed piano bench, fluttering my lacquered lashes, perking up my boobs, and laughing like he was the funniest thing in the world, I had a few songs memorized and a certain someone off my mind.

As we started hanging out more regularly, we took a road trip with some friends to see  Radiohead. We had the cheapest seats possible and had snuck a ton of booze into the venue because there was no way in hell that we were going to pay $10 for a bud heavy. Half a water bottle full of tequila later, the boy and I totally tricked the bouncer into letting us snag some seats in the third row. At that I point was pretty wasted, but I can vaguely remember sloppily making out while they were playing "All I Need" and feeling like this maybe wasn't a rebound after all. But then, as soon as we got back to Tallahassee, I guess I WAS NOT all that he needed because he totally dumped me for some spray tanned Hooters waitress.

Yes, a Hooters waitress. A shiny-orange-shorts-wearing-camel-toed-Hooters-waitress. She might have even been a stripper. At least that's what my friends told me, but I think they were just trying to make me feel better. But I get it, I get it. Free chicken wings and big ole titties are very appealing, especially to a 22 year old man-boy. At the time I was truly devastated. How could some girl with frizzy bleach blonde hair, dark roots, and scrunchy socks be more appealing than me? I knew about cartoons, could cook amazing stuff when I was wasted, and I could even quote Mr. Show. Isn't that what every boys wants? Hahaha. Yeah, right, not so much. Now that I'm 26 and haven't seen a Hooters retaurant, let alone a chicken wing waitress, in like 5 years, I think it's the funniest break-up story ever. I totally got dumped for chicken wings! Or maybe it was the blow jobs that he was getting in the parking lot after she hooked him up with a free meal.

And although this grilled cheese has absolutely nothing to do with Hooters or shitty boys, it is really good and I think you'll dig it. Oh! And of course, you voted for it on Facebook.