Feaverish

One of my favorite regular visits, whatevs, has a link to, as Uncle Grambo calls it, an “oh-so-hott cover version of Blondie’s ‘Call Me.’”

What makes it oh-so-hott is the oh-so-holy musical coitus between members of Pas/Cal and Betty Marie Barnes, of Saturday Looks Good To Me.
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I coined a new phrase today: blog belly. It’s what you get from spending too much time reading blogs.

My friend Lisa has a show this Friday at Homestar Coffee on Hawthorne, and you should go. As you can see, her paintings are awesome, and they’re on burlap.

I know, double-take! Burlap!

You can see more of Lisa’s work here.

Okay so go already. It’s at 4747 SE Hawthorne in Portland, from 7pm on.

OMG it’s totally donation week here at feaverish.com. Everyone’s favorite fixed-gear cyclist/designer extraordinaire, Naz Hamid, was in a bike accident in Chicago a couple of weeks ago. Naz is the creative (take that, adjectives!) behind such lovely places as Absenter, Gapers Block, Weightshift and Memo. He’s self-employed and uninsured, and as you can see from his injuries, the medical bills must be staggering. So why not send him a few bucks? Gapers Block has instructions here.

In case you haven’t heard, the Decemberists had all their gear stolen. “Gear” is musician-speak for, like, guitars and amps and stuff (though in the Decemberists’ case it’s probably more like zithers and grammophones). You can help them get new gear by giving them a little bit o’scratch. This is an especially good idea if, for instance, maybe one time you sampled one of their songs on a file-sharing service of some sort, let’s say, and then maybe you forgot to pay for it. Or something. Here’s where you go on the internet to donate. Obviously, I’m putting my money where my mouth is.

Work is busy. Like, making-me-suicidal busy. Will write more soon.

So this is super lame, but I was cleaning out my office (”You’re off the force, Mancuso!”) and found this old newspaper with a funny headline I’d meant to blog about way back on December 9th. The headline still cracked my ass up and I figured I’d throw it up here now.

Here’s how I think it could have been even funnier:

Oh man, that’s too funny! See? I moved the hyphen! It makes a different compound adjective! Get it? Get it? Aw, who needs you…

When I die, the headline will read “Pear-shaped metal guitarist…”

This new Beck video makes me wish I was were a better person. (Thanks again, Coudal.)

I made tacos last night, and, since they’re the absolute best tacos in the world ever, I thought I’d share the recipe with you my dear readers. Please feel free to pass it on to your friends and family, and soon we’ll have formed an undead taco army of the night, ready to [...]

Okay moving on. You must, and I cannot stress this enough, people, use the exact ingredients dictated here. Don’t think “oh, I can’t find Cholulaâ„¢, I’ll just use La Victoriaâ„¢,” because your tacos’ll taste like absolute shit and you’ll be all like “These tacos taste like absolute shit. This Feaverish’s recipes are crap for crap.” Plus, what’s the point of me sharing a valued recipe if you’re just going to go changing it? No point. I might as well say “I had tacos. Go make some,” without any further instructions, right? Right. [...]

Okay moving on. Here’s what you’ll need to make about twenty (20) delicious tacos:

• white corn tortillas (I prefer Guerreroâ„¢ brand, so you should too)
• 1 lb. ground beef (the fattier the better. Oh, and whatever you do, splurge for the organic or at least the grass-fed beef. You don’t want your spinal column turning all to mush now do you?)
• 2 cans Nallyâ„¢ Original Chili (for the love of god people, don’t substitute your favorite brand of chili here. I know Nallyâ„¢ isn’t the World’s Best Chili, but it is part of the World’s Best Tacos. Much like hydrogen and oxygen are useless on their own, but can be combined to form delicious heroin)
• ½ lb. sharp cheddar cheese (the sharper the better)
• Cholulaâ„¢ brand hot sauce (the extra vinegar in Cholulaâ„¢ really helps the tacos pop, so at least give it a try. If, after experiencing the tacos with Cholulaâ„¢, you want to try them with your own favorite hot sauce, have at it)
• ¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil (none of that re-pressed stuff)

That’s it! Now here’s what you do:

• brown the beef in a large (12″), deep frying pan. And don’t you dare drain the fat.
• stir in both cans of chili, get it all nice and bubbly, and then reduce the heat and let it simmer for, oh, say at least half an hour. You’ll know it’s ready when there isn’t any more freestanding liquid, and everything’s getting kind of mushy. Stir it every couple of minutes to keep it from burning/sticking to the bottom of the pan.
• start heating up some tortillas. If you have a big electric griddle, great. If not, go buy one. If you’re dirt poor, you can use a big frying pan. Brush a very very tiny amount of olive oil onto the tortillas, and heat them on the griddle/pan at about 350° for a few seconds.
• add the beef/chili filling to the tortillas. About two large spoonfuls, but maybe less if you want to make a lot of tacos.
• fold the tortillas and keep them heating for a coupla more minutes.

You’re done! Add cheese and Cholulaâ„¢ and eat up.

One caveat: With great power comes great responsibility. If you feed these tacos to someone, they’re pretty much guaranteed to be your love slave for life. You’ve been warned.

I took Heidi for a walk in the park today, where she promptly retrieved for me two pigeons and a small seagull while I slouched on a park bench and tossed birdseed to her victims. That, people, is what you call a symbiotic relationship. Also, please take note of her delicious new sweater. She loves it. And by “loves it,” I mean “wants to eat it.”

A guy just walked past my window wearing no shirt. Dude, it’s warm out, but not no-shirt warm. What are you gonna do come August, when we’re pushing 100°? Oh, right, lose about 40 pounds and shave your back.

Also, to the woman hanging her bethonged buttocks out of the windowsill across the street: your dumps are in no way like a truck, truck, truck.

Sincerely,

Aaron Feaver

J: Nice wallet. What’s it say?
A: Budweiser.
J: Ah.
A: It’s the king of beers.
J: Right. Is that velcro?
A: It’s the king of fasteners.

Begin Log Entry: Went to Trader Joe’s, intending to buy healthy dinner for one. Decided instead to test capacity of new bag. Results not so healthy.

Inventory:

• one six-pack beer (tallboys)
• one bottle red table wine
• one package green beans
• one package cream cheese
• one bag tortilla chips
• one jar nacho cheese
• one half-gallon milk (1%)
• two energy bars
• eight bagels (plain)

Conclusion: even with the addition of “u”-shaped bike lock, wallet, keys, etc., new bag performed admirably. Space to spare. Could easily have held another jar of nacho cheese (remember this next time).

This is what the weather’s been like for the last week. March in Portland is usually wetter, to say the least. (By way of contrast, if I were to tip the scales of exaggeration in the other direction, I would say something like “They filmed The Perfect Storm on the street outside my office!” And then wait for laughter.)

With the nice weather comes a shedding of clothes, but thanks to the unusually early warmth this year, most of us are looking like we could have used a few more weeks months at the gym before exposing our tanned and perfectly sculpted navels. My own navel, for instance, is still trying to find an angle of repose. Should I tuck most of it into my pants, with only the slightest flirtatious hint peering hirsutely over my straining belt? Or should I just obey the laws of physics and allow it to rest on the front of my jeans like a normal fatty? April may be the cruelest month, but being pudgy in March is no picnic either.

Here’s a fun rainy-day activity. Try to figure out how many calories a 6′3″ 26 year old male with a 12-mile daily bike commute (on a one-speed bike) needs to consume in order to gain weight. For extra credit, convert those calories to bottles of BridgePort Brewing’s India Pale Ale.

At least I’m contributing to the levity (ah ha!) and high spirits (oh ho ha!) of the world. I mean, if the movies have taught us one thing, it’s that fat guys on bicycles are funny. Especially if they have some kind of misadventure involving steep hills, faulty brakes, ball-bearing salesmen, and plate-glass window movers.

My god the new albums from Stars and the Decemberists are good.

Three things that made me appreciate life today:
* drinking a full pot of coffee before 8AM
* Modest Mouse’s Summer (sometimes it’s called “Untitled,” but whatever it’s the eighth track on the album)
* finding out only after trying to stop at a busy intersection that my brakes weren’t attached properly

Also, I ordered a new bike bag today. It’s one of these. Oh heck, I’ll just put up a picture. Pretty slick, what? Mine’s gonna be black, though, not blue. Best feature: authentic seatbelt buckle lets you take the bag off without having to pull it over your head. Now when I get in street fights I’ll be able to throw down that much quicker.

Oh, and I learned that I’m “goofy-shouldered.” (more…)

Thinking better of it, I decided to remove an ill-conceived post from earlier this morning and replace it with this more thoughtful post about body odor. Is removing a post a horribly un-bloggy thing to do? It is, isn’t it.

Well, moving on. Have you ever gotten BO while showering? I showered this morning in my usual manner, that is, I started at the top <head> and worked my way down </head>. Weirdest thing, though, by the time I was done I noticed that my underarms stank. What’s more, I don’t remember them stinking when I first got into the shower.

I’ve gotten BO after showering before. Like, maybe I wander around for a while with a towel on, before applying deodorant, and eventually I start to stink. Fair enough. (more…)

I can’t find my favorite pen, and I’m fairly (20%?) certain one of my coworkers stole it. Leaving aside (for now) the issue of even having a favorite pen in the first place, the whole thing is weird because I rarely have anything stolen. Well, except my bike lights are stolen all the frickin’ time. Like, I stop at a traffic light (sometimes) and by the time the light turns green my bike’s been totally stripped. But I never get anything major stolen.

Actually, our car got stolen a couple of summers ago. Technically, it was stolen one and a half times, but I’ll get to that. (more…)