Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Gourmet oddity

This one's done by request!  (You're welcome!)

So, if you know anything about me from this blog, you'll know that I'm pretty much scared of everything under the moon, and that I have an impressively strange list of weird obsessive compulsive ticks.  The fun doesn't stop there!

I touched upon it briefly in my neurotic post: I'm a very specifically picky eater.  In fact, I would certainly wager that my ticks about food and eating are perhaps the strangest that I have.  (I do promise to start legitimately blogging once more - I know that a lot of these posts recently have to do with strange old me, and I know that can get a little worn after a while.  So if you're new here, keep holding on.  I promise I'm not crazy and that I have more to say that just about myself.  But in the meantime.. have another laugh at my expense!)

The most normal - really, I don't even think normal is the right word to use - thing about my food habits is that I can't bear to have my food touching.  Thanksgiving is particularly a sticky time for me, what with the gravy running wild everywhere without inhibition and my mom being ignorant to my problems and always dropping a large quantity of mashed potatoes OVER my perfectly sculpted bed of rice.  That's just disgusting.  Little grains of rice getting all up in my mashed potatoes' business.  If I'm lucky, my rice gets drowned in some gravy, too, and I work my hardest to avoid those newly soggy and sad rice grains.  You think that's all crazy?  That's just Thanksgiving.

I don't eat much.  It'd be easier to list off foods I DO eat than foods I don't.  I generally don't like peppers, bananas, peanut butter, tuna, ketchup, mustard, condiments of any sort, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, watermelon, spinach (that's a given!), nuts, raisins, mushrooms.  (Oddly, I love broccoli!)

A disgusting amalgamation of those two aforementioned points is the idea of toppings on food, or dishes involving many foods altogether.  When I visit fast food joints, I order my burgers without anything on them and feel like a tool every single time that I do so; restaurants are truly hell for me, because I can be completely on board with a steak until I read "served with a side of peppers" or "drizzled with a mushroom sauce."  I similarly can't order pasta in restaurants because of the large amount of different things they mesh together.

Oh, my good lord.  Pasta.  Pasta, pasta, pasta.  I am Italian.  I am a very, very bad Italian.  I loathe tomato sauce.  WHAT?  Yes.  I am constantly reprimanded and shamed every time I have a family function - I refuse my nonna's homemade lasagna and request a separate pasta free from any red sauce.  I prefer my pasta plain - not even with an alfredo sauce.  I mean butter plain.

How does someone like me survive?  Well, I don't.  I eat a lot of shit because I know food manufacturers can't slip mushrooms or peppers into Oreo cookies or a bag of chips.  I rue the day that happens.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011


On this glorious day full of springtime snowfall, I came to discover that one of my literature classes was canceled for the day, giving me a glaringly large break in my day from 2 until 5.  Naturally, I decided that that three hour window would be a great time to get working on (but by get working on, I mean start) an essay for my Shakespeare class due in a week's time.  I came to school all saddled up with my laptop and its power cord (the godforsaken battery is so horrible that it lasts for five minutes without being plugged in.  No lie, it's that bad), and when my last class before the break ended, I trooped to the library through a sheet of snow harassment.

By the time I got there and made it up the stairs to the top floor, I was out of breath and in search of a cubicle with a plug where I could sit down and get to work.  My search came up empty, as everywhere was full.  I finally came to a comfy chair in the collaborative study area - so, pretty much, a place where idiots can flock to talk their damn mouths off all the while being able to say, "I'm at the library!" - beside a plug.  Of course the plug was dead, so I played it cool for a few minutes before I got up and left.

My next option was a group of couches up in the CCIT building.  I narrowly dodged election campaigners on my way, but I made it to the third floor and to an empty couch with an adjacent working plug.

In fact, I sit here now.  And I sit here boiling with rage.  Across from me sits a guy and a girl on the same couch.  The guy is absorbed in his laptop while the girl is half talking to him, half on her phone.

And to them, I say - (which is ironic since I'm ranting about her when she's literally three feet away from me) - please, SHUT THE FUCK UP.

This girl has one of the most annoying voices I have ever heard.  It makes her sound incredibly, incredibly stupid.  It doesn't help that everything she says is so drawn out and slow that she sounds mentally retarded.  She literally hasn't stopped talking since I got here - and it's been close to forty-five minutes now.  I am not kidding when I say I think she is retarded.  In the blissful forty-five minutes I've been here for, I've heard the following:
  • "Do we use the metric system?"
  • "What is the metric system?" (I nearly fell over when I heard this)
  • She read off the next week's weather report.. highs, lows, nighttime lows, humidity, chance of precipitation.
  • "Oh, my, god, boys are so stupid!"
  • "This game is so difficult!  Oh my god!"  (she's playing a game on her phone.  Her guy friend asked her what she's playing, to which she had answered "Solitaire")
Needless to say, any drive I had to write my essay is long gone after hearing this girl's idiotic slow airy voice for a long period of time.  (if it's any indication of my progress: I'm blogging) I would get up and leave, but I'm certain the library is still just as busy and the amount of quiet places to go on campus with available plugs is shockingly low.  I literally have felt my brain slowly seep out of my ears.

If there's anything I hate on this planet, it's idiots.  I would've thought that going to a university (or post-secondary at all) would've propelled me away from lowlifes and into a place where academics alike go to pursue a higher call to life through learning.  The amount of idiocracy I witness on campus from day to day astounds me.  It honestly astounds me.  Yes, I may have turned into a bit of a snob since high school: I do pride myself on going to one of the most reputable universities in Canada, and yes, I generally surround myself with people who are stimulating to me - intelligently or otherwise.  It is simply shocking to me that I still encounter people who have IQs lower than Rebecca Black.

She's left to go to class.  God has answered my prayers.  Or, perhaps, my blogging has some sort of subliminal power to influence people to do my bidding.  I like that option.

The Steph & Matt Throwdown Extravaganza: Yes sir, we're back

Indeed, indeed!  Steph and I (her blog found here) have returned with our collaboration, the Steph & Matt Throwdown Extravaganza.  After this week, it'll become a monthly thing, happening near the end of each month.  We feel like it might make things extra special if we keep it sparse.  Too much of a good thing is a bad thing, yeah?

This week's topics include: exams, Rebecca Black, smoking, and binge drinking.  As always, my responses are in blue, and Steph's are in lavender.


It’s that time of year again where we gotta buckle down and avoid attempting suicide as we put ourselves through torture to pass various courses. I, for one, dread the exam period more than the average person. 


Because it’s around this time of year that I become 10x more of a basket case than I already am. Didn’t think it was possible? Well, it is. Around exam time, I’m miserable, and I begin to forget just who I really am as I feel myself morph into yet another mindless drone who is forced to conform and regurgitate pointless material that I am destined to forget the minute I step out of the exam room. Around this time of the year all I can hear my mind screaming at me is: “why me? Why?”

The workload is excessive, and the pressure begins to become bone crushing.  For me this year, it’s worse because my exams are clustered together into one week, my psychology and Genetics exams are one single day apart, while my criminology and bioethics exams are on the same day four days after. Can I handle it? No. Why am I putting myself through this? Cause I have no choice.

I think I’m more worried about my genetics exam rather than the other three, mainly because I can handle the other three; they seem to be more in my area of expertise. Am I more worried about genetics than I was for microbiology? Oh Yes. ....Oh god yes.

My life is a downward spiral.

I, too, am in a bit of a sticky situation this exam period.  Of the four I have, three of them appear one after the other on the first three days of exams: genetics, then my film course, then children’s lit.  I, too, am DREADING genetics.  I’m sure Steph can attest to this: why on earth are we taking genetics?  A worse question: why am I, the English major, taking genetics?  I baffle myself.

Exams aren’t my favourite.  I don’t like that professors look to make their finals impossible.  Yeah, I get that the point of a final exam is to test your overall understanding of the course, but really, I’m not going to remember the one fact you offhandedly mentioned in the first week of class.  That doesn’t mean that I haven’t paid attention or done my work or understood anything all semester: that means that YOUR class is not my only class, that I have to devote my time elsewhere, too, and that an entire semester’s worth of material (or even year’s worth) is a vast, vast vortex of knowledge.

I even don’t like the pressure surrounding exams.  I, too, feel as though I’m about to forget everything the moment I step into the exam room.  That’s been me, though; I freeze on tests just because, oh, my god, it’s a test, it’s a test!

Exams can suck it.


I.. uh.. I’m just at a loss.

Rebecca Black’s “Friday” is so awful it’s amazing.  The song and accompanying video are fantastic for a good laugh.  Pushing nearly 40 million views on youtube, countless people around the world have watched in shock and awe as Rebecca got out of bed, had her cereal, and stressed over which seat she should take.  (Rebecca, there’s one empty seat.  That’s the one you get)

At this point, though, I’ve lost all understanding of her apparent longevity.  Yes, it was really funny at first – now we’re approaching the second week where she has been popular, and she’s already a little bit stale.  Facebook statuses trying to cleverly incorporate her awful lyrics are old news; somehow, recalling her lyrics aren’t quite as funny anymore.  Her life as an internet fad is slowly coming to an end, and to good reason: she’s truly awful, and past the initial shock and laugh at her, her appeal is empty.

The thing is: yeah, I feel a little bit bad for her.  She’s a national – global – laughing stock.  She herself has even said she’s been subjected to intense harassment, and while I don’t think it’s out of nowhere, I do feel for her.  Then again, she should’ve have recorded the song.

Rebecca hasn’t stopped there, though: she’s recording a new song and planning on releasing a legitimate album come Christmas.  Oh, Rebecca.

..wait, what day is it?  Rebecca’s song doesn’t cover anything earlier than Thursday or later than Sunday.  I’m so lost.  Rebecca, give me your guidance.

At what point this dumb bitch begin to think that she actually had a career? 

I don’t think you understand just how much it breaks my heart to know that the music industry has devolved to this. Who in their right mind considers “TODAY IS FRIDAY. TOMORROW IS SATURDAY. AFTER IS SUNDAY” lyrics? Are you insane? Music has already been raped enough, why put the poor thing through even more torture? 

The 40 million views on youtube is basically stating that 40 million people (more or less) consider her to be a complete and total idiot. I’m pretty sure Rebecca Black does not have an IQ over ten. Some may say I’m heartless, but in no way do I pity her. She made the song. She wanted it to be recorded. She wanted it to be on the internet. She was the one making herself look like an idiot. If anything, she deserves what she’s getting because in all, it’s her own fault. If you put something completely stupid and idiotic out into the world, prepare to feel backlash. As for recording a new album, go right ahead sweetheart, but be prepared to get yourself torn apart by almost everyone in the world. 

It breaks my heart to know that there are true artists out there that deserve to have their music heard yet you have this little punk stealing all the spotlight with, what I consider to be, the worst song ever invented. You know you’ve hit rock bottom when even JUSTINE BEIBER makes fun of you.
I’m just hoping and praying her 15 minutes of fame will be over soon, I can’t take any more of this stupid Friday stuff. You know, there was a point in time where I really was excited for Friday to come around. Do I feel the same anymore? 


Why? You ask. 




I don’t understand the shtick about smoking.  Really, honestly, truthfully, it’s disgusting.  The idea of smoking to me is just gross; I feel grimy thinking about myself taking up smoking cigarettes.

I don’t see ANY positive to smoking.  You’re an idiot if you believe there’s nothing unhealthy about it: sorry, but even smokers must know that smoking is completely and absolutely detrimental to your health, so honestly, what’s the point?  Personally, the negative impact on health is enough for me to not want to smoke at all, let alone all of the other cons about it.  It makes your teeth yellow!  It makes your lungs black!  It makes you smell!  (I can’t stand the smell of smoke lingering on someone who’s just put out their last cigarette)  Not to mention – it’s an absolute cash vortex.  Being a young adult with money always on the mind, it’s baffling to me that someone would willingly spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars monthly – weekly! – to keep up their disgusting habit.
A pro, you say: the image.  Well, to me, if you’re a smoker, you’re fucking disgusting.  It doesn’t make you look badass: it makes you look like more of an idiot, since you openly project to everyone around you that you’re stupid enough to spend money on something 100% bad for your health.  Whether or not a girl smokes is a deal breaker for me.

Butt out.  Take up some other addiction.  Like alcohol.  Or knitting.

I know this wasn’t meant to be a personal attack, but I’m going to treat it as such for the sake of having an argument. We all know how much I love arguments.  Be prepared to hate me Matt. ;) 

(Steph, you're stupid.)

I, for one, have dabbled a little bit in the smoking world for maybe about a month. I enjoyed it. I had to stop mainly because my dad had found a cigarette in my room and began screaming at me.
I understand that is indeed bad for your health, but if this had been 20 years ago it wouldn’t have been that bad. Also, everything in moderation: there’s a difference between smoking once a day and thirty times a day. I understand that it is indeed dangerous, but some people choose smoking because well, it’s better than drugs, right? 

I think smoking can be sexy, and some people can mask it very well. Of course, smoking 100 cigs a day is not very sexy at all, but it’s give and take. 

I understand that indeed, smoking is just as bad as any other addiction, but sometimes it seems like the better alternative. I don’t mind at all when people smoke recreationally, just as long as they aren’t blowing the smoke in my face and coughing and hacking as they talk to me.  As for positives to smoking: well, it could lead to stress release and, like I said before; sometimes it looks like the better alternative.

As far as I’m concerned, is if it’s hurting you, and the person is not smoking to the point of digging themselves an early grave, back the fuck out of it. It’s none of your business and to be honest, people can do what they want. 

In my opinion, sometimes it’s better than alcohol, because it’s not like you’re losing control of yourself and making potential horrible decisions while you’re doing it.


I will admit that I’m not much of a drinker. I mean, I have gotten drunk and I do enjoy the warm, fuzzy feeling that drinking bestows upon you; now I kinda understand why people do it so much, because it feels absolutely great.

But have I ever binge drank? Only once, and it was because I wanted to know was drunkenness was like, I wanted to push myself to the limit to understand what my body can do. Of course, I regret ever doing it because I woke up with the worst hangover of life and I threw up all over my floor (which was disgusting to clean). Not to mention that I can never drink wine ever again because the taste makes me was to vomit

Regardless, I do enjoy the occasional drink, and I’ve gotten maybe a little drunk. But I drink because I’m with friends or I just feel like I need a drink because I’ve had one hell of a week.

Friday is gonna be the day I break out the alcohol to celebrate ending the week from hell. Me and Captain Morgan are going to get very well acquainted. Even though I may not know much about heavy drinking, I’m sure Matt will be able to shed more light on the situation.


Hey now.

I’m no alcoholic, but it’s no secret I enjoy a good time.

To be perfectly honest, I don’t really understand the concept of drinking until you puke (even though I do it anyways, admittedly).  In my case, I teeter on a very fine line: sometimes, I can drink a shitload, and I feel nothing, not even a buzz; sometimes, I can drink the exact same amount, and I’m staggering or throwing up in someone’s kitchen sink or getting up close and personal with the floor.  In that respect, I have no sense of pace about myself.  I drink, drink, drink, and the result?  It is where it is.

I don’t like the idea of drinking to have a good time.  I have more than just a good time with close friends just sitting around in a basement playing board games or watching movies or just talking.  In that respect, I don’t drink to loosen myself up or have fun; in fact, I don’t even casually drink.  Unfortunately – and unfortunately if I’m a hypocrite – when I spend the money or time to acquire alcohol, I’m gonna drink it, and I’m gonna drink it all.

A heavy drinking night once and a while, I feel, is good.  Sure, you can have fun without, and yes, it’s a problem if you can’t see that (I can.  Don’t worry), it’s always fun to just completely go crazy.  For me, I’m either throwing up or I’m singing out loud or pretending to be a gangster by dancing embarrassingly or singing way off-key.  But I don’t need alcohol to loosen myself up, not at all: I’m myself with the people who I’m close with.  I don’t need alcohol to let my walls down or to talk with people.

That’s that.  Now, I guess, for shits: I can’t drink vodka.  It is disgusting, after a few bad encounters with it.  Even drinking orange juice by itself, I can taste vodka in it.  I’m a beer kind of guy.

There you have it, my lovely readers.  We'll be back in a month's time with different topics but the same old Matt and Steph!