Summer before last the Family spent a few days in the Smoky Mountains. Near the bottom of the park are a few great little towns making a few bucks from the tourists and artsy types. One was Sylva, North Carolina. Gorgeous, small, quiet. Made me think about having a mid-life crisis, selling everything, opening a cheese shop and growing a beard. Why cheese? Apparently that is what you do, open a business that does something you know nothing about but like a lot and then sell it for a huge mark up to the know-nothing tourist that are itching to partake of something regional. At least that seemed to be the large chunk of transplant residents.
Lucky for the tourist, most of the buildings lining main street were the early twentieth century store fronts that have always been there. Many still had the old ads still wearing off the side of the brick on the side streets. It is worth the trip. Well, the mountains are worth the trip, the towns are a great excursion. We will be back soon. I hope.
Normally I would dish poetically a bevy of smart ass lines about something like this. But this one is a comedic grenade for me. Instead, I will just let you make what you will of it.
I live next door to Ba Le. I can smell the bread cooling nearly every Sunday. And better still is th bargain subs they build. The Chowhound provides a break down for the beginner.
Published on April 29, 2009 in photo du jour. Closed
Heat in person. Glorious heat. Right now they are seeping in a bottle of vinegar melding the hot and tangy into spicy goodness for the greens, chicken and all food [yes, include ice cream in that, you will be pleasantly surprised]. The steamed bag says it all. Hot hot hot.
I live next door to Ba Le. I can smell the bread cooling nearly every Sunday. And better still is th bargain subs they build. The Chowhound provides a break down for the beginner.
Vinegar and magical colored pills. Drop in an egg and you have Crayola inspiring goodness. I find myself attracted to the fun and make a few masterpieces of my own. But I was recently informed that colored eggs with curse words is not appropriate for a religious holiday and the company of children. Bastards. They ruin all the fun. Thank god they don’t know “wtf” and the * and @ served to hide the f-bomb.
I have no friggin idea what the title means but it just might translate to: “really sucky scandanavian metal”. [actually as you will see it means "no apple for you, come back in a year". I like my translation better] Just from a small sample of freaky Scandanavian metal you could easily conclude that the cold fucks with your head. Seriously.
Here the formula is: woods + black dressed woman + lyrics about death,blood virgins * fat people in goof costumes = cheese-alicious metal goodness. There is even death by knife in armpit [about 4:00]. Dude that has to hurt. Fat Evil Bastard is by far the best character. But I do wonder wtf is with the monitor, drummer thing?
My brother-in-law grows plants. Lots of them. It is impressive to me for someone to make something appear out of thin air. Or in this case dirt. I don’t know the name to this plant or any of the others. I just know that I would kill them. Fast. And as much as the workings of computer, network or a website boggles Steve, the allegorical math and hardcore science he employs to make things bloom bewilders me. Best part, this is their backyard. Mine has dog poop and mulch.
GI Joe was a foo-foo cartoon. Goofy and a long commercial. But now, it is back and updated in style and violence. Fun stuff. Adult Swim has the goods, here is a trailer to convince you.
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