Amoeblog

4 More Days Until Walrus Day!!!

Posted by Job O Brother, October 5, 2011 12:49pm | Post a Comment
Craving investigation? Follow this link, lyrical human!



Diamanda Galás Hates The Food Fighters

Posted by Job O Brother, February 28, 2011 01:32pm | Post a Comment

Call it a survival kit.


The boyfriend is out of town this week, enjoying* the chilly dewiness of Portland, Oregon. (I wish I was with him – I get hungry just thinking about Portland, with all its easily accessible, diet-vanquishing, culinary goodness. Plus there’s a lot of hella rad folks who live there, and while I normally loathe good food and great people, something about the air there makes me all for it.)

I love my boyfriend, and I never find myself wishing he was gone; all the same, I cherish these times when it’s just me and the cats. It’s not that the boyfriend keeps me from doing anything, per se, but self-respect  keeps me from behaving certain ways in his presence.

For example, alone, I do nothing with my hair other than washing it. The result is a blond afro which effectively doubles the size of my already-capacious noggin. I wear a wife-beater constantly – something that never fails to get me not laid in this house – and if it’s too cold, I simply toss a hoodie over the wife-beater. That’s fashion, kids.


The cover for my new album, Save Auntie

Wine must be drunk straight from the bottle when I’m a bachelor. I swear it tastes better this way – perhaps because more oxygen is imparted into each swallow? It sounds debaucherous, I know, but I actually end up drinking less wine this way, because I drink just what I want instead of emptying a glass simply to keep from wasting anything. (It’s my Depression-era mentality. Why, when I was a kid in the 1930’s, we didn’t even have wine – only lime juice, which we’d make less sour by adding sugar, vanilla, rum, orgeat syrup and orange liqueur. And we had no glasses to drink it out of, so we had to use hollowed-out coconut shells. And it’s not like today where you can just swish wine in your mouth, oh no! We had to use little paper umbrellas to mix our beverages. I tells ya, times were hard.)

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