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A few days ago I was driving home from work and delirious from hunger. I had to stop in at the supermarket to buy food because I was out of bread and other things. In my head, I had devised this idea to make toast with turkey, brie and honey mustard, so I followed through.

Steak would have taken too long, so I made this platter. Starting from 9 o’clock and moving counterclockwise, we have:

  1. pesto

  2. black pepper turkey and pesto

  3. herb and brie spread

  4. black pepper turkey, brie, and a drizzle of honey mustard

A simple, elegant little appetizer that took all of 5 minutes to make. And paired with a tasty Rebel IPA, a new Sam Adams IPA I picked up at the supermarket.

I hate

This is one of my favorite pieces of personal writing. I find myself thinking about it pretty often.

Existentialists R Us

I hate how I love you

I hate how I have no choice in the matter

I hate how you still hold a special place in my heart

I hate how I felt depression for the first time in my life after losing you

I hate how I could let you affect me so profoundly

I hate how not a day has passed since you left that I haven’t thought about you at least a little

I hate how I have to live with you occupying this space in my head

I hate that you’ll always be in someone else’s arms

I hate that I don’t want you in mine

I hate that I can’t just turn off the memories

I hate that I can’t turn off you

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The world is a drought when out of love

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Oh hey, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my raging food boner.

Last night’s dinner was a lovely 5 ounce filet mignon, tricolore pasta tossed with pesto and a nice Chianti. Oh and the toast had the drizzlings of left over steak juice, seasoning and oil from the pan, which is one of my best ideas to date. Last night was also the first time I had to concentrate on cooking two things at the same time. Good thing there are microwave and oven timers.

These filets are thick sons of bitches and take forever to cook. I had this thing on the pan 7 minutes a side and it came out on the rarer side of medium (i.e. perfect).

Late night, brakes lock, hear the tires squeal

I’m back at the hospital again for 6 weeks. On Friday, I’m presenting a 30 minute talk about antibiotic resistance and the use of daptomycin. I’ve yet to begin working on it as I’m still poring over the literature.

In food news: I can now competently make steaks. 10 man points for me. Moreover, I got into a sandwich mood a few days ago and decided to replicate a sandwich I massively enjoyed while in Saratoga. The sandwich was thus: baguette, turkey, Brie, honey mustard, lettuce and tomato. It is a staggeringly good sandwich. So at the grocery store I checked off 3 firsts: purchasing Brie, lettuce, and a tomato. The tomato cost $1.84 and I don’t know about you guys, but that’s kind of a lot for a fucking tomato. I can buy a bag of Tostitos the size of a toddler for like 4 bucks. Still, I am a professional chef and I need professional ingredients. Brie is delicious and I don’t know why I don’t buy it more often, but I will. Lettuce is weird. I wanted to buy a bag of shredded lettuce because you can’t just buy a leaf of lettuce; you have to buy a whole fucking “thing” of it. (An “ear” of lettuce? A “bough”? A “bunch”?) Whatever the term is, a thing of lettuce cost $1.49, which isn’t much, but it pretty much starts wilting as you’re leaving the store with it. I will never eat even half of the value of that lettuce before it rots on me.

In any case, my sandwich clone was fucking great.

I’ve recently been getting into gourmet salsas. While I was in Saratoga, I tried Mrs. Renfro’s line of salsas. Their green jalapeno salsa is good and their habanero is even better. But recently, I came across their ghost pepper salsa. The ghost pepper, for the uninitiated, is the hottest pepper in the world. And although this salsa contains jalapenos and green chilies, and ghost peppers are last on the list of ingredients, it still doesn’t fuck around. My mouth burned for a solid 15-20 minutes after I stopped eating it. It also came back with a vengeance the next day.

Really really like this song. I used to listen to Thrice years back in high school, and I associate the band with a particularly crazy girl I liked back then. I even had a badass Thrice shirt and I’m pretty sure I went to see them live once (with said crazy girl).

Mardi Gras

On Saturday, my little undisclosed city held their annual Mardi Gras festival, so I decided to head down. But not before working a 9-7 at the pharmacy. Long day, and it was less than warm that night.

I wandered around a bit. One bar had a $5 cover charge. Another with no cover had a line out the door. Finally, I came upon a bar with neither and ran into some classmates who had been drinking since noon, were fucking hammered, and ready to go home. I chatted a few minutes, and then went on my merry way. At the last bar, which was more of a lounge, I settled in with a glass of Maker’s Mark and sour. 2 girls sat down next to me, one more attractive and one less attractive. The more attractive one went to the bathroom, I talked to the less attractive one, and she introduced me to the more attractive one.

It is incredible how much you can find out about 2 complete strangers’ romantic endeavors in 10 minutes of conversation. I was totally vibing this one girl. Before I knew it, we had all grabbed a booth, and were joined by 2 of their friends. So here I was, drinking and playing bar games with a group of complete strangers. Quite out of my element for an introvert such as myself, so I was pretty proud of myself; it isn’t easy for me to make myself get into social situations like this. I do find it easy to mingle once I’ve actually gotten over that initial approach hump.

We went to grab some food after a few drinks, which was welcome because I hadn’t had dinner. There’s a little deli downtown open 21 hours a day that makes breakfast sandwiches. But not just any breakfast sandwiches. These have hashbrowns IN the sandwich. If there has ever been anything more deserving of the Nobel Peace Prize, this is it. Imagine: bacon, egg, cheese, HASHBROWN, on a roll. Now imagine it when you’re comfortably buzzed off a few drinks and it’s 10pm. MY GOD.

We went to another bar afterwards, where cute chick stopped vibing me and was into some other schmuck. I didn’t give a fuck and went for it at the end of the night anyway, because there was absolutely nothing to lose. Predictably, nothing happened. Still, I think it’s extremely important for a man to learn to embrace rejection. Dating is a numbers game and the quicker a guy gets used to getting told “no”, the quicker he’ll get out to try again. My favorite part about these bar meets is that you’ll (in all likelihood) never see these people again, so anything you say is largely inconsequential. So say whatever ridiculous shit you want. Lose your inhibitory side.

As I walked back to my car, I was happy I went out. Rather than (justifiably) going home after a long day’s work, I instead met a bunch of cool people and had an awesome night.

Ever Been Heartbroken? Yeah, Me Too.

An excellent look at the maddening roller coaster that is heartbreak.

Link to original article here: http://thoughtcatalog.com/ally-maynard/2014/03/ever-been-heartbroken-yeah-me-too/

Thought Catalog

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Rarely do I remember what I was doing precisely a year ago. As someone who revels in the nonobservance of benign, bullshit holidays (i.e. Valentine’s Day, Talk Like a Pirate Day, anything with a mattress sale) and who spends the majority of the better holidays pumped full of enough weed smoke to forget the festivities all together, those trusty markers of remembrance aren’t something I rely on with confidence.

Last year was different, particularly February, when my heart was essentially ripped from my chest and figuratively hurled into a dying star.  Are the dramatic thematics enough for you yet?  Basically, I was hurt.  Badly.  Horribly enough that I still hurt pretty regularly, with my own little Marla from Fight Club; the little scratch on the roof of your mouth that would heal if only you could stop tonguing it, but you can’t.  I’m trying not to be a pussy about…

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