Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Pubic Mate Cup
My friend brought me from Argentina a Mate-kit. That is, the Mate tea, bombilla (the metal straw with the filter) and the traditional mate cup. This particular cup is covered with bull's testicle skin. Note the black pubic hair.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
The Crazy Girl Part Deux
Maybe you remember The Crazy Girl that wanders around my neighborhood. She would never talk to anyone, and the one time that talked to me was to insult me.
I know what is the deal with her.
I was standing on the sidewalk, talking to a friend, blocking the sidewalk. She was coming towards us, and politely, I decided to move in order to not block the whole sidewalk. She walked by, and turned around to say something like "You are not better than me. I'm better than you."
Some research through craigslist revealed a lot of information about her. First, a lot people seem to know this character, and people call her Ghost Girl or Crazy Anne. Several people insisted that her real name is Anne, and that she is Schizophrenic and Paranoid. She was a good student, but now is just crazy and wanders around. Her family takes care of her, but she is very hard to deal with. She has been doing worse in the past couple of months, and it is not recommended to talk to her.
The other day she was standing in front of my house, and was having a fierce argument with an imaginary person. After more than a week with some dry mud in her leg, she finally showered. Today I was trimming the front lawn, and she decided to make half circle around me to evade passing close to me. As she was doing it, she was mumbling something that included "ass" and "don't have to move".
I know what is the deal with her.
I was standing on the sidewalk, talking to a friend, blocking the sidewalk. She was coming towards us, and politely, I decided to move in order to not block the whole sidewalk. She walked by, and turned around to say something like "You are not better than me. I'm better than you."
Some research through craigslist revealed a lot of information about her. First, a lot people seem to know this character, and people call her Ghost Girl or Crazy Anne. Several people insisted that her real name is Anne, and that she is Schizophrenic and Paranoid. She was a good student, but now is just crazy and wanders around. Her family takes care of her, but she is very hard to deal with. She has been doing worse in the past couple of months, and it is not recommended to talk to her.
The other day she was standing in front of my house, and was having a fierce argument with an imaginary person. After more than a week with some dry mud in her leg, she finally showered. Today I was trimming the front lawn, and she decided to make half circle around me to evade passing close to me. As she was doing it, she was mumbling something that included "ass" and "don't have to move".
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Jesus is back! In asparagus form!
Velocium quam asparagi coquantur
Jesus is back! In asparagus form!
A GARDENER had a revelation when he dug up his asparagus plant and saw the face of Jesus.
Martin Gregory was enjoying his Sunday morning gardening when he noticed something quite different about one of his asparagus ferns he removed from a pot.
As the 52-year-old laid the 30-inch plant on the grass the sun shone down on the roots and revealed the face of Jesus to him.
The part-time mosaic tutor said: "I thought, 'Good gracious! It's the face of Jesus.'
"It's the most weird thing I have ever seen.
"The roots are fantastic. You can actually make out a thorn crown around his head, his eyes and nose.
"I've heard about Mother Theresa's face being seen in a bagel but I thought this was much better."
Monday, May 01, 2006
Love You Tender
This isn't as cool as the music video Moscau, but it is still pretty good. Excellent production.
Gotta love the Adam (Prince of Eternia) haircut.
Gotta love the Adam (Prince of Eternia) haircut.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Una carta a Las Mimbrosas
Una conversación
Esta carta abierta va dirigida desde el fondo de mi tierno corazón a la creadora y las colaboradoras de lo que era uno de mis blogs favoritos, El Mimbre Despeinado. Sé que el mimbre no es una conversación, así que he decido usar mi blog para conversar con ustedes.
Arquitectos del mañana
El mimbre fue creado y formado originalmente por amigas de mi infancia. If memory serves me right, lo primero que ellas publicaron fue en unas mimeografías editadas por Maestra Prieto. Apestaban a alcohol, y la tinta era azul-violeta. Maestra Prieto, con su traje con un roto en el sobaco que se le veía cuando levantaba su brazo para morder su empanadilla de pizza mientras daba clase, sembró la semillita de la paz en estas niñas que florecería luego en un fabuloso blog. Niñas que a pesar de no haberlas visto hace años, recordaba por su tajante sentido del humor que era como reírse de un alguien que se cayó y se hizo un tajo. Cruel. Observador. Comedia genial. Que ofende, pero que se joda, es gracioso. El mimbre era injusticia. El mimbre picaba.
Dame más mimbre
Cada vez que veía un post nuevo, mi corazón se aceleraba como si yo despertara para ver una caja grande forrada de papel de regalo debajo de un arbol de navidad. Yo era un fan del mimbre despeinado.
Cómo toda serie, el mimbre tuvo sus altos y sus bajos, pero mantenía una cadencia candente y decadente que me hacía volver por más más más mimbre. “Nenas, denme to el mimbre que tengan” pensaba insatisfecho macharranamente.
La responsabilidad hacia los fanáticos
Si buscan en sus anuarios mi foto, verán que dice que soy el fanático #1 de los Simpsons. Esa legendaria serie empezó con unos tropezones, pero rápidamente se convirtió en un clásico. Luego de casi dos décadas corriendo, la serie va perdiendo fuerza, y es sólo un recuerdo de lo que era antes.
Esto NO es lo que le pasó al mimbre.
Pero igual defrauda a los fanáticos. Llega un punto que una obra se vuelve más que sus autores y toma vida. Y nosotros los fans, por nuestra lealtad, nos creemos con el derecho de demandar una resolución.
Sopa de joyo para el alma
El mimbre tuvo una transición de fase. Es cómo que empezó a tratar de imitar a Sex and the City, pero los libretos eran tipo Luisito Vigoreaux. La Gran Popeya. Era como leer Reader’s Digest, casi podía imaginar las secciones clásicas que le faltaban: Citas citables. La Risa Remedio Infalible. Soy la tota de María.
Se volvió algo que la Maestra Gisela aprobaría, pero que apesta a Mancha.
Terry Schiavo
¿Qué se debe hacer con el mimbre? No sé, pero tengo fé en el mimbre.
Una Oración
Todas las noches, antes de ir a dormir, me arrodillo junto a mi camita, junto mis manitas, y con fe de la posibilidad de un renacer, recordando como Jesús cambió el agua a vino, rezo lo siguiente:
Qué Papa Dios les traiga muchas bendiciones.
Esta carta abierta va dirigida desde el fondo de mi tierno corazón a la creadora y las colaboradoras de lo que era uno de mis blogs favoritos, El Mimbre Despeinado. Sé que el mimbre no es una conversación, así que he decido usar mi blog para conversar con ustedes.
Arquitectos del mañana
El mimbre fue creado y formado originalmente por amigas de mi infancia. If memory serves me right, lo primero que ellas publicaron fue en unas mimeografías editadas por Maestra Prieto. Apestaban a alcohol, y la tinta era azul-violeta. Maestra Prieto, con su traje con un roto en el sobaco que se le veía cuando levantaba su brazo para morder su empanadilla de pizza mientras daba clase, sembró la semillita de la paz en estas niñas que florecería luego en un fabuloso blog. Niñas que a pesar de no haberlas visto hace años, recordaba por su tajante sentido del humor que era como reírse de un alguien que se cayó y se hizo un tajo. Cruel. Observador. Comedia genial. Que ofende, pero que se joda, es gracioso. El mimbre era injusticia. El mimbre picaba.
Dame más mimbre
Cada vez que veía un post nuevo, mi corazón se aceleraba como si yo despertara para ver una caja grande forrada de papel de regalo debajo de un arbol de navidad. Yo era un fan del mimbre despeinado.
Cómo toda serie, el mimbre tuvo sus altos y sus bajos, pero mantenía una cadencia candente y decadente que me hacía volver por más más más mimbre. “Nenas, denme to el mimbre que tengan” pensaba insatisfecho macharranamente.
La responsabilidad hacia los fanáticos
Si buscan en sus anuarios mi foto, verán que dice que soy el fanático #1 de los Simpsons. Esa legendaria serie empezó con unos tropezones, pero rápidamente se convirtió en un clásico. Luego de casi dos décadas corriendo, la serie va perdiendo fuerza, y es sólo un recuerdo de lo que era antes.
Esto NO es lo que le pasó al mimbre.
Pero igual defrauda a los fanáticos. Llega un punto que una obra se vuelve más que sus autores y toma vida. Y nosotros los fans, por nuestra lealtad, nos creemos con el derecho de demandar una resolución.
Sopa de joyo para el alma
El mimbre tuvo una transición de fase. Es cómo que empezó a tratar de imitar a Sex and the City, pero los libretos eran tipo Luisito Vigoreaux. La Gran Popeya. Era como leer Reader’s Digest, casi podía imaginar las secciones clásicas que le faltaban: Citas citables. La Risa Remedio Infalible. Soy la tota de María.
Se volvió algo que la Maestra Gisela aprobaría, pero que apesta a Mancha.
Terry Schiavo
¿Qué se debe hacer con el mimbre? No sé, pero tengo fé en el mimbre.
Una Oración
Todas las noches, antes de ir a dormir, me arrodillo junto a mi camita, junto mis manitas, y con fe de la posibilidad de un renacer, recordando como Jesús cambió el agua a vino, rezo lo siguiente:
Cómo ave fénix
sale'e cenizas,
y de la tripa,
la longaniza.
De mierda’e vaca
salen los hongos,
y al injerirlos
son bien tripiosos.
Qué Papa Dios les traiga muchas bendiciones.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Goat on a Pole
There are certain things in life that are priceless. For everything else, there is a goat on a pole.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Things I learned from D Day
- I should buy a good torch for caramel.
- Drunk people like to serve themselves flan with their bare hands.
- The service industry is a lot worse than I thought it was.
- I love cooking. I love cooking under pressure. I love cooking with awesome people. We had a blast.
- People that aren't good at cooking can be trained very fast to perform important tasks in the kitchen.
- There is never enough rum.
- Some people say that they want to help out, don't really mean to. When the party starts, they will forget they had stuff to do.
- I get irritated easily when I'm very tired.
- Quality food processors are worth their money.
- This wasn't the best way to meet chicks. I was hoping to meet some hot chicks at the wedding that would be impressed by our crazy adventure. I was so busy that I wasn't even able to check them out.
- I need a good, big, pressure cooker.
- Setting up stations is important. Make people responsible for their station, including their equipment and cleaning it up.
- Duct tape is a wonderful thing.
- Make people commit to clean. Everyone wants to cook, but very few want to clean. The mess we made was so horrendous that the owners of the Ranch were very worried. Don't worry, we did a great job cleaning everything after we were done.
- Smoking pork looks like a lot of fun.
- Chef jackets and hats are very well design for their tasks.
- Restaurant food distributor have some really good and cheap ingredients in bulk.
- I don't have patience to serve people.
- Having a lot of towels is a great thing.
- I'm crazy.
- Drunk people like to serve themselves flan with their bare hands.
- The service industry is a lot worse than I thought it was.
- I love cooking. I love cooking under pressure. I love cooking with awesome people. We had a blast.
- People that aren't good at cooking can be trained very fast to perform important tasks in the kitchen.
- There is never enough rum.
- Some people say that they want to help out, don't really mean to. When the party starts, they will forget they had stuff to do.
- I get irritated easily when I'm very tired.
- Quality food processors are worth their money.
- This wasn't the best way to meet chicks. I was hoping to meet some hot chicks at the wedding that would be impressed by our crazy adventure. I was so busy that I wasn't even able to check them out.
- I need a good, big, pressure cooker.
- Setting up stations is important. Make people responsible for their station, including their equipment and cleaning it up.
- Duct tape is a wonderful thing.
- Make people commit to clean. Everyone wants to cook, but very few want to clean. The mess we made was so horrendous that the owners of the Ranch were very worried. Don't worry, we did a great job cleaning everything after we were done.
- Smoking pork looks like a lot of fun.
- Chef jackets and hats are very well design for their tasks.
- Restaurant food distributor have some really good and cheap ingredients in bulk.
- I don't have patience to serve people.
- Having a lot of towels is a great thing.
- I'm crazy.
Tonka, D Day
Antonia ha escrito acerca de las gorditas agradecidas, y hasta en D Day se encuentra uno con ellas.
Ella era una gorda cuadrada, inmensa, sólida, con un lunar inmenso en la cara, fuerte, como una troquera. Interactué con ella muy poco, ya que estaba muy ocupado siempre. Luego, durante un merecido break, ella se me acerca y me pide mi número de teléfono. Me sorprendió mucho el pedido, no es como que habíamos hablado nada. Ella era muy clara en lo que buscaba, y yo no tenía ni el mínimo interés en ella.
No tuve más remedio que darle el número, y entonces fue que empezó con su labia monga de que a ella no le gusta el flan, pero que ese le gustó, y que quiere que le enseñe como hacerlo. Le dije que luego de hacer tanto flan, no tenía ganas de ver un flan más en mi vida. Luego ella procedió a decir que ella pensaba que yo era bien cool y que quería jangear conmigo y ser mi amiga. Yo sonreí estúpidamente sin saber como zapatearmela de encima, mientras ella hablaba boberías genéricas. Dije algo en la línea de que está bien, pero que yo era una persona bien ocupada. Ella dijo que no importaba, que me llamaría mucho e insistiría todas las semanas. Hasta ahora lo poco que conocía de ella es que era bien fea, aburrida y se cantaba stalker.
Me jodí.
Luego de eso me fuí lejos, lejos, lejos de todo el mundo. Busqué un arbolito en lo oscuro, me recosté, bajé el sombrero de chef a taparme los ojos y me dormí profundamente. Me levantaron ruidos como los que haría un rinoceronte tratando de inflitrarse silenciosamente en un bosque lleno de ramas caídas.
Me levanté el sombrero, y allí estaba ella, preguntandome cómo estaba y si quería compañía. Le dije que estaba bien cansado, que quería estar solo y dormir. Y se fue así mismo como llegó: crunch crunch crunch. Yo no pude dormirme de nuevo, y me fui a terminar el alcohol que quedaba de la fiesta.
Más tarde esa noche, luego de mucha celebración, el cansancio por intoxicación y la intoxicación por cansancio me obligaron a dormir en un sofa-cama en el Rancho. Era de esos que el matre fue diseñado con un tubo que te rompe la espalda toda la noche y te manda derechito al quiropráctico. Durante la noche, se abre la puerta: eran dos muchachas, Tonka y una muy bonita. Estaban buscando donde dormir. Era obvio que una de ellas compartiría cama conmigo.
Tonka ocupaba 2/3 del matre.
La teoría de la relatividad general dice que la aceleración gravitacional es efecto de un objeto masivo que curva el espacio.
Me ví reducido a acurrucarme en una esquina sin casi sabana, peleando por no chorrearme para el centro de la cama que estaba hundido curveandose hacia su hoyo negro. Me dormí agarrado del borde de la cama. No se si temblaba de frío o del miedo.
Su respiración profunda y pesada resonaba de una forma horrenda dentro de su inmensa cara. Sus ronquidos parecían cantos cetáceos. Biólogos marinos del mundo, por fin nos podremos comunicar con los gigantescos mamíferos acuaticos gracias a Tonka.
Cómo si fuera poco, Tonka recibió más de 10 llamadas al celular. Su ringtone era uno de esos que tenía que tener en la descripción alguna palabra cómo "conga" o "calipso" y evocaba imagenes de un enanito rumbero armado con maracas, bailando al ritmo pregrabado de un tecladito eléctrico. Su sueño pesado hacía que no contestara el ring del celular a menos que yo le gritara algo. Me cago en la madre de los celulares.
Por la mañana ella se levantó y se fué.
Ella era una gorda cuadrada, inmensa, sólida, con un lunar inmenso en la cara, fuerte, como una troquera. Interactué con ella muy poco, ya que estaba muy ocupado siempre. Luego, durante un merecido break, ella se me acerca y me pide mi número de teléfono. Me sorprendió mucho el pedido, no es como que habíamos hablado nada. Ella era muy clara en lo que buscaba, y yo no tenía ni el mínimo interés en ella.
No tuve más remedio que darle el número, y entonces fue que empezó con su labia monga de que a ella no le gusta el flan, pero que ese le gustó, y que quiere que le enseñe como hacerlo. Le dije que luego de hacer tanto flan, no tenía ganas de ver un flan más en mi vida. Luego ella procedió a decir que ella pensaba que yo era bien cool y que quería jangear conmigo y ser mi amiga. Yo sonreí estúpidamente sin saber como zapatearmela de encima, mientras ella hablaba boberías genéricas. Dije algo en la línea de que está bien, pero que yo era una persona bien ocupada. Ella dijo que no importaba, que me llamaría mucho e insistiría todas las semanas. Hasta ahora lo poco que conocía de ella es que era bien fea, aburrida y se cantaba stalker.
Me jodí.
Luego de eso me fuí lejos, lejos, lejos de todo el mundo. Busqué un arbolito en lo oscuro, me recosté, bajé el sombrero de chef a taparme los ojos y me dormí profundamente. Me levantaron ruidos como los que haría un rinoceronte tratando de inflitrarse silenciosamente en un bosque lleno de ramas caídas.
Me levanté el sombrero, y allí estaba ella, preguntandome cómo estaba y si quería compañía. Le dije que estaba bien cansado, que quería estar solo y dormir. Y se fue así mismo como llegó: crunch crunch crunch. Yo no pude dormirme de nuevo, y me fui a terminar el alcohol que quedaba de la fiesta.
Más tarde esa noche, luego de mucha celebración, el cansancio por intoxicación y la intoxicación por cansancio me obligaron a dormir en un sofa-cama en el Rancho. Era de esos que el matre fue diseñado con un tubo que te rompe la espalda toda la noche y te manda derechito al quiropráctico. Durante la noche, se abre la puerta: eran dos muchachas, Tonka y una muy bonita. Estaban buscando donde dormir. Era obvio que una de ellas compartiría cama conmigo.
Tonka ocupaba 2/3 del matre.
La teoría de la relatividad general dice que la aceleración gravitacional es efecto de un objeto masivo que curva el espacio.
Me ví reducido a acurrucarme en una esquina sin casi sabana, peleando por no chorrearme para el centro de la cama que estaba hundido curveandose hacia su hoyo negro. Me dormí agarrado del borde de la cama. No se si temblaba de frío o del miedo.Su respiración profunda y pesada resonaba de una forma horrenda dentro de su inmensa cara. Sus ronquidos parecían cantos cetáceos. Biólogos marinos del mundo, por fin nos podremos comunicar con los gigantescos mamíferos acuaticos gracias a Tonka.
Cómo si fuera poco, Tonka recibió más de 10 llamadas al celular. Su ringtone era uno de esos que tenía que tener en la descripción alguna palabra cómo "conga" o "calipso" y evocaba imagenes de un enanito rumbero armado con maracas, bailando al ritmo pregrabado de un tecladito eléctrico. Su sueño pesado hacía que no contestara el ring del celular a menos que yo le gritara algo. Me cago en la madre de los celulares.
Por la mañana ella se levantó y se fué.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Flantastic, D-1, D Day
It would be easy to say that the cheese flan stole the show. The wedding cake was pretty much untouched, while people had seconds and third servings of the flan.
After making 18 flans, we had a hard time finding were to store them. We ended up putting some in a cooler.
The cheese flans were decorated with caramelized blackberries and strawberries
We then used caramel spirals and chocolate to make them extra pretty, and coffee liquor was used to contrast the sweetness of the cheese flan.
Everybody was commenting on how pretty they looked.
A little girl saw the flans as we were setting them up. "Is that flan?" "Yes." "Wooooow! They look so pretty!" I think that was the best part of the whole crazy adventure. It made my heart smile.
We put extra effort on the special flan for the bride and groom. The strawberries were soaked in rum.
After this whole event, one of the chefs decided that there was only one way to eat the flan that we had saved for her.
After making 18 flans, we had a hard time finding were to store them. We ended up putting some in a cooler.
The cheese flans were decorated with caramelized blackberries and strawberries
We then used caramel spirals and chocolate to make them extra pretty, and coffee liquor was used to contrast the sweetness of the cheese flan.
Everybody was commenting on how pretty they looked.
A little girl saw the flans as we were setting them up. "Is that flan?" "Yes." "Wooooow! They look so pretty!" I think that was the best part of the whole crazy adventure. It made my heart smile.
We put extra effort on the special flan for the bride and groom. The strawberries were soaked in rum.
After this whole event, one of the chefs decided that there was only one way to eat the flan that we had saved for her.
The Ugly, H Hour
The ugliest part was the, well, they screwed us up. We were told several times how we were not responsible for the drinks (water, tea). I was told not to worry, that it wouldn't be our responsibility.
In the end, since no one did it, we had to do it. That meant that we lost a lot of people to the process of bringing ice, filling up the water in the tables and so on. Old ladies got impatient with us, and couldn't understand that it wasn't even our responsibility to do that. We weren't getting paid for this. But they didn't know.
It also represented that people like me ended up being force to serve people. I said many times how I wasn't going to deal with serving people food. I like to work behind the curtains. Dealing with people, well, isn't my strength. I don't have much patience and can't fake a smile for more than 10 seconds. But, there was no one else to do it, so I had to. And I hated it. It was horrible.
Phobos was tempted to kill a couple with his chef knife.
First, they walked towards the special flan that we worked so hard decorating. This flan was going to be just for the newly married couple, and I had it out of reach of people. There was this guy who was a bit drunk, and his date, who was a total bitch who only talked about how Austin sucked because it didn't have a 5 star hotel, and the best hotel in town didn't have engravings in the doorknobs.
Engravings in the doorknobs...
They approached the special flan, and my flan-sense told me that they were going to ruin it. I ran to save the flan from them, but failed to. The guy, for some reason I still don't understand, decided to tilt the plate of the flan, spilling the caramel all over the table and ruining some of the flan decorations.
I was furious.
I was able to clean up the mess, and redecorated the flan, and not much harm was done. I ran back to my station after yelling to the couple as if they were bad dogs: "NO! NO! NO! GO AWAY!". There I started to serve more flan to people, and the couple decided to make the line and ate some flan. The problem was that they just stood there, in the middle of the line, standing there, eating, blocking access to the table, and more importantly, irritating me even more.
The girl was talking about how she was an architect, and how the best feeling ever was when she was wearing her power-suit for a power-meeting talking to the clients and closing a billion dollar deal.
Zeus, if you send a lightning from the clouds and kill the power-girl, I will sacrifice a bull every full moon.
The guy started to get excited in the conversation with the power-girl; his drunken hands moving in wide circles. I thought he was going to stab someone with his fork with his gesturing. Instead, he dropped the fork right on top of a flan.
I fisted the knife I was using to cut the flan.
I walked away from the station, and decided to chill out with the GoatMini and the DonkeyNano.
I hate people.
In the end, since no one did it, we had to do it. That meant that we lost a lot of people to the process of bringing ice, filling up the water in the tables and so on. Old ladies got impatient with us, and couldn't understand that it wasn't even our responsibility to do that. We weren't getting paid for this. But they didn't know.
It also represented that people like me ended up being force to serve people. I said many times how I wasn't going to deal with serving people food. I like to work behind the curtains. Dealing with people, well, isn't my strength. I don't have much patience and can't fake a smile for more than 10 seconds. But, there was no one else to do it, so I had to. And I hated it. It was horrible.
Phobos was tempted to kill a couple with his chef knife.
First, they walked towards the special flan that we worked so hard decorating. This flan was going to be just for the newly married couple, and I had it out of reach of people. There was this guy who was a bit drunk, and his date, who was a total bitch who only talked about how Austin sucked because it didn't have a 5 star hotel, and the best hotel in town didn't have engravings in the doorknobs.
Engravings in the doorknobs...
They approached the special flan, and my flan-sense told me that they were going to ruin it. I ran to save the flan from them, but failed to. The guy, for some reason I still don't understand, decided to tilt the plate of the flan, spilling the caramel all over the table and ruining some of the flan decorations.
I was furious.
I was able to clean up the mess, and redecorated the flan, and not much harm was done. I ran back to my station after yelling to the couple as if they were bad dogs: "NO! NO! NO! GO AWAY!". There I started to serve more flan to people, and the couple decided to make the line and ate some flan. The problem was that they just stood there, in the middle of the line, standing there, eating, blocking access to the table, and more importantly, irritating me even more.
The girl was talking about how she was an architect, and how the best feeling ever was when she was wearing her power-suit for a power-meeting talking to the clients and closing a billion dollar deal.
Zeus, if you send a lightning from the clouds and kill the power-girl, I will sacrifice a bull every full moon.
The guy started to get excited in the conversation with the power-girl; his drunken hands moving in wide circles. I thought he was going to stab someone with his fork with his gesturing. Instead, he dropped the fork right on top of a flan.
I fisted the knife I was using to cut the flan.
I walked away from the station, and decided to chill out with the GoatMini and the DonkeyNano.
I hate people.
The Bad, D+1 Day
The bad part was the cleanup. We had rented a lot of catering equipment, including cups and plates. It wasn't clear to us from the beginning that we were in charge of cleaning everything. In fact, we thought that there was people contracted just for that purpose. We were wrong, and ended up crashing in the farm after the wedding in order to wake up to clean the mess.
Here is a picture of some of the stuff after we cleaned it.
Here is a picture of some of the stuff after we cleaned it.
The Good, D-2, D-1, D Day
The good part was cooking with a lot of really awesome people. Everyone was focused, but not super serious. We had to deal with each under tense conditions, and everyone seemed to get along really well.
It felt really good when we knew we were doing great on time and decided we could afford to take a break and a few drinks. By this time, we had all become really closed friends.
Everyone of the chefs were great, and I would love to cook again with them.
The buffet, H Hour
People seemed to like the food. Many of them were Texans that were very mystified by the weird food we were serving. But, a quick glance around the tables revealed that people finished their plates. 
Some of our Intel agents informed us that people really enjoyed everything. Someone that works for a fancy smancy catering service said that she was very impressed, and declared the meal a big success.
Trying to account for possible mistakes, we had made food for 200 people. The problem was that there weren't any screwups. We ended up with way too much food for 150 people. We got chinese take-out boxes, and told people to take some food home with them. They cleaned up all of it. ALL of it.
Empty plates make me happy.
Some of our Intel agents informed us that people really enjoyed everything. Someone that works for a fancy smancy catering service said that she was very impressed, and declared the meal a big success.
Trying to account for possible mistakes, we had made food for 200 people. The problem was that there weren't any screwups. We ended up with way too much food for 150 people. We got chinese take-out boxes, and told people to take some food home with them. They cleaned up all of it. ALL of it. Empty plates make me happy.
Victory, D Day
The dinner was a total success. The food came out delicious. It was so much better than anything we had practiced before. Everybody was really impressed.
There are many good stories, but I'm too tired, so those will have to wait. I even have pictures, so, stay tunned.
There are many good stories, but I'm too tired, so those will have to wait. I even have pictures, so, stay tunned.
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