The Life Vegan.

Frustration with lunch options in downtown Los Angeles isn't just for vegans. Anyone with a modicum of taste and a need for sustenance will find the entire landscape of SoCal lacking for any meal really. Yeah, we have like the most awesome food trucks I hear, which are basically a meta-lame ironic hipster way of owning a business and paying no tax to big guvment?, fancy, but they are, have been, and are gonna kinda stay, played out.

So I've been hooking it up in the kitchen lately, and bringing some of my more delicious leftovers to the office with me. And it's always nice to answer questions from workplace fatties wanting to know if I'm worried if I'm getting enough of this, or if I might be suffering from a deficiency of that. Seriously priceless. Whatever I may be lacking in Beta-whatevers I more than make up for in colossally misplaced concern and inappropriate invasiveness.

I really am learning how to hold my tongue though, or perhaps I'm just stuffing it with food all day I don't know. But the weekends are when I can break out, experiment, or bake even if I'm feeling super ambitious.

Saturday was a bad day. I don't think we can avoid saying it. There was a monstrous cretinous 'security guard' at Big Lots who completely ruined our trip to Big Lots, I mean from the moment we walked in the door, ruined. This gangly absurd son-of-a-bitch called me 'man' at first I thought he was being cute and said 'ma'am', he wanted me to 'check my bag' with the cashier, and the thing came perilously close to touching me. I was incensed, having positively none of it.

I wheeled around on my heels and headed to HWood where things move a little bit more normal, but I consequently had to mine the pantry to get my fill yesterday. This is what happened:

Curried blackened tofu steak. Or is it blackened curried tofu steak? Who really knows? Delicious. Basically the same little spice package you might work up for your tofu scramble, sluice your tofu steak in all that business, and fry, fry fry. Coconut, peanut, or in this case good old fashioned EVO, served with those knee bucklingly delicious hash brown patties on the only china I haven't managed to break yet. Kate Spade, or something my mother couldn't resist buying me. The hash patties are my newly discovered carb bombs for early morning fuel, but the steak just answers the question: Where's my protein?

Always at a loss at what to do with that huge pound of seitan you made? No probably not. That's generally just a problem I have, but look what I up and did? I kinda solved it by keeping myself stocked with a head of lettuce, and some bread, and those ridiculously cheap Roma tomatoes, and this SLT/seitan lettuce tomato sammy is my new weakness. Lashings of Colman's mustard are in no way optional. I confess I downed a bag of tapatio Ruffles with this bad boy. Probably not vegan though. Colored with crushed insect eggs or something ridiculous one suspects. Whatever. Sue one.

Being an upstanding free thinking human being I don't really need a lot in the way of carbs after 3:00 in the afternoon. Tea basically rounds it out so this protein bomb TVP vegan chili garnished with avocado and green onion is just what those late night Secrets of the Nazi Occult documentaries call for. And a nice warm blanket cause some of that shit is seriously spooky.

 Night.

Leave It For Someone Distracted.

 

 

This lady at work is a real touchstone of human evolution. She's been hacking like a diseased goat for the last two weeks, won't stay home, actually asked one lady if she was out last Monday & Tuesday because she caught her cold. I had to leave and have a moment at that one.

She 'discovered' the taco cart I've been going to for the last 8 years by asking me where I got my breakfast burrito, and of course now she's told the office all about her discovery.

She has a kid. Obviously. Doing what comes naturally to even spiders ranks amongst her biggest accomplishments. I went into the breakroom the other day and the topic of conversation was breast pumps. Seriously considered whether there is any point to life before hitting the Farmers Market for a nice stroll.

The coughing wouldn't bug if she covered her mouth. No. Too busy clicking through her friends' updates on FriendFace for that bit of courtesy.

The breeding does annoy because her spawn is like her favorite pair of shoes. She won't talk about anything else. She admits the child is largely an excuse to avoid doing work and is an unwanted imposition on her luckless family.

This morning she's busy shouting all the things I told her about on Friday like she thought of it her precious self. On yeah, and her kid. Don't forget that. Not for a single 5 minute span of time.

Merci Beaucoup.

This Is Where Feelings Hide.

There comes a point where it's best to just unburden yourself, and that time has indeed and finally come. I am laying down the shackles of any pretensions I may have of hipsterness (not a word), and I am joining a fantasy baseball league.

Have joined already actually. That ship has mother fucking sailed.

Yeah. Our logo is an image of The Queen with one of her corgis. A serene and majestic one obviously. Like the wallpaper on our Jesus phone, but all in everyone else's face. The commish shafted us with someone else's roster, so I have some former co-worker rugby player who has actually won championships doing this shit (they actually have them) running my team.

Anyway. The ass clown that actually got me into this spectacle, the likes of which I have not seen since my days of Magic the Gathering, commented on my ability to source some of the most "obscure" pictures of major league players. He said i could start a blog, which then got me thinking, but I won't insult your intelligence any further. God knows what I've done to my own.