Wishing all of you the happiest of holidays! May your cookies be sugary and your cocoa be warm. Lots of love from me to you! Heart emoji.
This weekend in America, we give thanks for everything we have while secretly planning to leave our families and run outside to trample people for three dollar bras.
Oh, but not I. I want football. I want food. I want peopleless stores. I want
Idris Elba the love of a fuzzy four legged man.
Thanksgiving for me starts on Wednesday night with cooking. All. Night. Cooking. I don’t sleep. The meat has to be thawed for the marinade. The stuffing has to be made because that’s what I snack on. The potatoes where a challenge this year. Didn’t want mashed. Scalloped felt like added work. Crispy baked potatoes it was. Then with all the salt and carbs, I had to sneak in some roasted veggies.
With all this work how many people am I expecting for the big day? Two. Me and Duffy. Imagine if I actually knew other humans.
★ This whole holiday hinged on the World’s Greatest Stuffing.
★ Bucket O’ Carrots.
Oh, it’s the most wonderful time of the year! Sing it with me! It’s time for my annual jaunt down to the Florida SuperCon- a local comic book convention in Miami, FL. It’s moved to the beautiful Miami Beach, which means I had a five minute walk from my (old) apartment, to the nerdiest place in all of the Seven Kingdoms.
Below is my meeting with the Holy Trinity: Dan Harmon, Dino Stamatopoulos and Scott Adsit. If you get a chance to meet them, take it. Come prepared with questions. They are happy to talk about comedy writing, acting, and their shows. The salsa verde on the burrito: they’re genuinely nice human beings that will make you laugh. Just tell Dino how pretty his eyes are. You’re welcome.
★ Meeting Dan Harmon.
★ Meeting Dino Stamatopoulos and Scott Adsit.
Every so often I crave a roast chicken. I try not to eat meat but I have a problem with roast chicken and burgers and salmon and sunny side eggs. Let’s face it, I will never never be vegan. Salmon alone is my equivalent of a steak.
Now back to this beautiful piece of meat. So juicy. So tender- and the apartment is not in flames. It’s about half a week’s worth of food for me and fuzzy Duffy. He’s a thigh man [insert joke here]. My parents always let us eat chicken and fish growing up. I was the one in college who started waning off meat because the cafeteria could not cook any food that required actual cooking and the dorms were a cereal kind of set up.
Lately, the smell of roasted chicken as I walk past a bodega has become overwhelming. So I concede. Get in my belly, chicken- and in my salad, and in Duffy’s gravy. No one tell Donald Duck. This may be his cousin.