Archive for pennsylvania

Things I Love

Posted in baking, food, health, movies, personal with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 12, 2008 by uglydudefood

Black marble composition books.  I own boxes full of them, and they’re pretty much all empty.  There’s something nostalgic about these things.  I was forced to write “journal entries” in these during Sunday School when I was little.  I remember quite clearly answering a prompt about Moses with a longwinded answer about Moses Malone.  I was a smartass even then.

These things also symbolize hope for me.  100 sheets; 200 pages.  Blank and ready for me to fill them with my amazing ideas (or poop jokes).  Any time I see them available in a store, I buy at least one.  I never write anything in them.  I have boxes full of the things.  I love them more than anything.

Also pictured:  Star Wars bedsheets.  These date back to the Special Edition days, so there’s not a Ben Quadrinaros or Count Dooku in sight.  This is the way it should be.

Reviews are coming in for early episodes of the Star Wars:  Clone Wars cartoon, and they’re overwhelmingly positive.  Star Wars has been a pasttime for me since birth, and a bit of an obsession for me since about 1997.  I’ve read the books that tell you the backstories of all those stupid puppet aliens in the Cantina.  I amassed thousands of dollars worth of toys (which I am now selling for far less than their current market value, plug plug).  It’s good to have something Warsy to be excited about again.

I guess it’s good to have anything to be excited about.  For the last few years, I’ve been seperating my “blog life” from my personal life (for the most part).  When I stopped personal-blogging, I think I stopped personal-living as well.  I holed up in my iPod and my personal computer, attempting to one-up my own silly jokes for a readership of three people.  I hid myself away; developed a fashionable eating disorder; lost contact with my closest friends; and generally stopped feeling anything at all.  I used to think people that said, “I don’t feel anything anymore” were full of James Dean bullshit, but then I stopped feeling things.

Last night I went out to dinner with my family.  We went to Italian Delight in Linglestown, PA.  My parents have been pretty regular customers since they discovered the place, and I’ve been there a few times.  It’s a nicer sit-down establishment than a lot of pizzerias (such as Tonino’s, my favorite Harrisburg slice joint).  The restaurant recently changed ownership apparently, and the pizza recipe appears to have changed (for the worse, but it’s still decent).  I had the grilled chicken salad.  Romaine lettuce, tomatoes, croutons, pickles, black olives, peppers, and enough chicken to make you feel like you’re getting your eight dollars’ worth.  It was nice to have an evening with just my parents.

Tonight I went for an hour’s walk and grabbed a coffee from Starbucks.  I’m not particularly fond of their new Pike’s Place blend, but it’s a hot drink and I like the store’s atmosphere.  Maybe I could fill more composition books if I became cliche and sat around Starbucks.  Or at the very least I’d start wearing scarves and ill-fitting black sweaters.

Keep your eye on Ugly Movies for the latest reviews.  I’ve been adding movies as I see them, and also crazy amounts of older movies.  I saw The Incredible Hulk tonight, which was super-fun popcorn viewing.

Coming next week:  The Dark Knight, which promises to be the movie of the summer.  Also, The X-Files:  I Want to Believe, which excites me more for some reason (possibly because I am retarded).

What else is there in life?  My girlfriend’s name is Rachel.  We recently had a rough go of things, but we’re working hard.  These things take effort, right?

I’ve been without a car since early May, but that will soon be remedied.  I’m getting a 2008 Honda Civic Hybrid in the next couple weeks.  I could wave my fanny in the air and talk about “blah blah blah emissions” and “save the earth fiddle dee dee,” but really I am buying this car for the superior gas mileage.  I do most of my selfless things for selfish reasons (and, oddly enough, vice versa).

It’s Saturday night, and I’m relaxing and blogging.  I think it’s time to start filling up some composition books.

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“And it was the best thing I ever done!”

Posted in food with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 3, 2008 by uglydudefood

I was perusing my non-food blogroll, I stumbled across Hump Day Stories, which had a wonderful, food-relevant post this morning in regards to the late, apparently-great Williams Smoke House ribs.

I swear to God, [the rib] was so good that I dropped it and stared at it. My eyes were wide. I was looking at the rib like I just watched it punch my mother in the face, like I was angry at it for what it had done to me. In a sense, I was, but only because I equate pleasure with anger due to my damaged childhood. The bite of meat was already starting to melt in my mouth, the sauce mixing with fat and salt. Simply put, it was the most perfect bite of food I’ve ever taken.

I read this and just knew. Back in my younger, fatter, meat-eating days, I had one goal in life: to recreate my first Tony Luke’s experience.

I must have been in middle school. We were just settling down to a warm winter’s intolerable Philadelphia 76ers basketball game (intolerable not because of the fact that the Sixers were playing poorly, but because watching organized sports makes my eyeballs want to bleed).

With not much time before we had to hit the nosebleeds, we stopped by what looked like a rinky-dink shack under a bridge–Tony Luke’s. My father and brother grabbed Philly cheesesteaks (or as “Philly cheesesteak” as my family gets, which is to say that they were simply beef and American cheese, topped with far more ketchup than any one bun can hold), and I opted for the Roast Pork with Sharp Provolone.

I’m not sure what did it for me. Was it my first-ever taste of sharp provolone cheese? Fresh, tender pork? A big old white bun full of fat? I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure I had my first-ever orgasm then and there. From that moment on, it was my goal to recreate that heavenly experience in my own kitchen.

Problem number one: I was thirteen years old, and without a source of income or outside food. Problem number two: we never had pork just plain-ol’ lying around. I was stuck with Steakumms. The cheese situation was slightly–but barely–better. We usually had a block of extra-sharp cheddar cheese sitting in the refrigerator. It was close, but clearly not the same, I chopped up four-to-five Steakumms and melted upwards of a quarter pound of fatty, delicious cheese. They fried in their own fats and juices until the whole thing was one congealed patty of cheese and low-grade cowmeat.

Needless to say, I had no success in recreating that first Tony Luke’s moment. In fact, the only success I had was in the weight-gain department. These experimental cheesesteaks brought me from a plump 260 pounds to a morbid 300, which in turn caused me to take control of my life and become an obsessive-compulsive, anorexic, vegetarian freak.

Thanks a lot, Tony Luke’s.

So I would like to ask the readership (which is, at this point, nonexistent): what is the absolute best meal you’ve ever had? Did you have a transcendent experience like Geth over at Hump Day Stories? Do you find yourself “chasing the dragon” to relive a certain food-type experience that will never come?

St. Thomas Roasters

Posted in food with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 28, 2007 by uglydudefood

WHAT?

I was going to go mini-golfing tonight, but apparently there was a torrential downpour. Instead, my friends and I went to a local coffeeshop and had delicious beverages. The java joint was called St. Thomas Roasters (Linglestown, PA).

My friend Theresa ordered the strawberry smoothie with whipped cream, and she said that it was “really good,” and that it “didn’t disappear right away.” There is your “review” part of this review.

I ordered a large coffee–my usual–with the intention of having decaf–my usual. However, one golden name beckoned to me from its shiny urn–“Snickerdoodle.”

Snickerdoodle-flavored coffee. Like the damn cookie.

Of course I had to have it. Screw the fact that I literally haven’t had any caffiene in about a year and a half. I had to have cookiecoffee and I had to have it then and there.

And you know what? It was okay. It tasted like somebody sprinkled a spoonful of cinnamon into their coffeepot, although I’m sure there was some insidious something inside of that beverage. It leads me to wonder what they put into the coffee to make it so scrumptious. Did I inadvertantly drink five thousand calories? Am I going to balloon back up to 300 pounds overnight? In bikini season?

So apparently caffiene has an effect on me now. It is currently almost four in the morning and I am wide awake, shirtless, and typing a blog on the American Online Internet Web.

Gummi Rabbit: the other white meat

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 7, 2007 by uglydudefood

Self-Inflicted

Posted in fiction, food with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 2, 2005 by uglydudefood