is more scared of werewolves than you'd think
Just like last year, I had this idea that doing a monthly post would make it a snap to figure out my best of the years: just scroll through, it’ll be obvious. I wish. Though it does make it easier to remember stuff from before summer, say. So, without further whatever, and by category, and including stuff I only FOUND in 2019, and just going plural for some instead of staging ties:
I’ve always been torn about who my favorite Star Trek captain might be—like Weird Al says, it’s a hard decision:
But now, with this, I don’t know, there’s another contender:
As you can tell from my recent swing through Texas, ketchup only is the way to go (didn’t really want the cheese, but he kept asking, so I got a single slice):
Tom Paris, saying aloud the creed I live by, pretty much. And? This is my only persistent problem with intergalactic humans in stories: they always come out of warp at some Mos Eisley of a truckstop and just eat whatever’s being served. I can’t help but think that would be instant death. Not just of the soul, but the gut, since no way can we have the proper enzymes to digest some vending machine egg-salad fossil from another solar system.
Also, while I’m postin…
Best chicken strips in town, and also ever: Dark Horse Bar and Grill. I don’t know what they do to the outside of them, the skin, the batter, but it’s perfect.
Best fish and chips in town, and, I’m pretty sure, also ever: Backcountry Pizza. The fish here is somehow very heavy and dense. There’s only two of them per order, I think. But it’s enough.
Best burger: not in Boulder, I don’t think, but in Denver, at Alamo Draft House. Their Green Chil…
This must by my first post about food, ever. Anyway, was just commenting on a friend’s pic of a some pie on Facebook—can’t link to it, but the Instagram’d version’s here—and realized that the reason I have yet to try keylime pie (that’s what the pie in question was), even though I promised myself to after it looked halfway-good in Million Dollar Baby/on Clint Eastwood’s fork is that new food terrifies me like little else. Seriously. M…
This is from Murder by the Book—which shuttered up as soon as I was done, as the rain was coming down, and Houston’s understandably pretty water-shy this summer, and where we were was evidently a place that goes lake just when the humidity gets high enough.
That’s the with-specs shot. Here’s the without,where I suspect I’m, for reasons not really know, explaining Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle to the tolerant audience:
And yes, that’…
