Tarhearted.

BONE WATER.

 

Bone water sounds like bong water.

Bone water? No.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT.

I have something to tell you.

I kind of, sort of stopped eating meat. I'm kind of, maybe, a vegetarian now. It's something that's been building since I saw a fucked up This American Life about pig farming and then solidified last week when The Boyfriend and I watched Fassbinder's In a Year with 13 Moons, which contains a graphic slaughterhouse scene. Add to this the fact that I've been researching chicken processing plants (as much as I can stand to) for my new play and voila... I'm off meat.

It's been kind of hard so far. I'm poor white trash from Kentucky, so meat has always been in every meal. In general, if a meal doesn't contain meat then I still feel empty when I finish eating. On top of that, I loathe any kind of fake meat, or at least the varieties I've tried.

So far all I can think of to eat is potatoes (French fries! tater tots!), salads, and various casseroles. Tonight I'm making tater tot casserole, which I'm certain will be delicious.

I'm just nervous: what will I do when I run out of vegetarian comfort food?

Also, vegetarian cooking? Seriously?

I'm so boring and old now. I can't really call this blog Tarhearted anymore. It's become so gentle. I quit smoking. I started jogging and doing yoga. I'm a vegetarian. Lame.

I should go back to writing about things that matter, like why women who don't dry their hair before they get on the subway are disgusting.

NO MORE SPARKS.

It is truly the end of an era. I'm really late on finding this out, but Miller Coors is going to stop making Sparks! This explains why I saw a hipster girl buying like five cans at my bodega and then ask the owner, "Don't you have anymore?"

Sparks was my favorite drink for the hobo on the go-go. My friend Keehnan and I drank it on the way to Sugarland. Admission #1: We didn't want to wait until we got there to have a drink even though my apartment is less than a five minute walk. Let me tell you, that evening was a hot mess. Admission #2: The Boyfriend was out of town.

The evening ended with Keehnan walking me home because he didn't rust me to get there on my own, which was partially his fault since he brought a sports bottle full of vodka to my house earlier that evening. Just steps form my stoop (nice alliteration)I totally bit it and fell face forward, scraping my hands into bloody shreds. Laughing, I looked up and there were about five sets of hands helping me up.

"Who the fuck are these guys?" I slurred to Keehnan.

"You invited them over from Sugarland," he told me.

I laughed and laughed and left those tricks blue balled on my stoop. I'm a classy lassy!

The next afternoon, after a full night and subsequent morning of blue vomit (!) I scraped myself out of bed and decided to check my e-mail.

Upon sitting at my desk I was alarmed to discover that my office chair was wet. It only took a moment to realize what had taken place the night before. I had pissed on the chair in my sleep.

R.I.P. Sparks. I hardly knew ye!

STARBUCKS DOESN'T SELL HOT DOGS.

I have a new lunch spot. I was walking in Greenwich Village and ran across New York Hot Dog and Coffee. I was totally weirded out by the concept, but being that I enjoy both hot dogs and coffee, I ventured in. It turns out I was lucky enough to be one of its first customers and I wandered into the clean and aesthetically pleasing store to be greeted by fifty-six enthusiastic "hellos" from the adorable teenage Koreans working there. Things were off to a good start.

I quickly learned from the very sweet franchise owner, who was wandering around in a smart skirt suit, that this is the first American location of a Korean chain. She was also kind enough to point out that they have a beautiful backyard. They say that gays are early adopters of the new, and in my case it was true!

I was initially weirded out by the menu options too. Bulgogi hotdogs? With a value meal you get a bulgogi hot dog, a scoop of soft serve (?), and a cup of coffee? Am I missing something in the translation? Who thought to put bulgogi on a hot dog? Why ice cream or coffee? Is that a typical Korean combination? Whatever. Bizarre as it may seem, it's really delicious and affordable. (Seriously though... waffles?)

It is at 245 Bleeker Street, for anyone who wants a delicious and hilarious eating experience.

On the coffee tip, I have to seriously cut back. I'm getting a terrible cold and the coffee isn't helping. My sleeping habits are totally messed up now. Between the cold and the caffeine I've been falling asleep right when I get home from work and then I can't sleep until two in the morning. I spend those precious hours tossing and turning with sickness dreams. (By the way, last night I dreamed that I was in Cape Cod with Cher, Winona Ryder and Christina Ricci. A Beaches reunion!)

So here I am drinking tea, which is just not the same.

FULL DISCLOSURE.

Sometimes, when I'm feeling really down, I get a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese and bring it back to my fancy-schmancy office where I eat it in a dark room where nobody can see me.

Today is just such a day. I'm going to kill myself, and McDonald's can help!

PRODUCT PLACEMENT.

Brawndo: The Thirst Mutilator is a real drink and is undoubtedly awesome.

CAN I HAVE SUICIDE WITH THAT?

I wonder why McDonald's stopped handing out promotional razor blades with their hamburgers? Seems like a good idea to me!

BABY MAMA DRAMA.

I just got invited to a Park Slope baby shower. Out wasp that, bitch!

I've never been to a baby shower before, so I'm a little worried that I'll stick out like a turd in a punch bowl. What does one do at such events? Will I have to play games like "my water just broke" or "here comes the stork" or something? I'm a grown man for God's sake.

Admittedly I've never been good with children. Even when I was a child I didn't really get it. I mostly liked to read Stephan King novels and draft blueprints for the secluded compound I'd own one day. I was a little dark back then. When my twelve year old niece visited New York I took her to museums and art films after eating in French bistros. The poor girl wanted to go to Sean John.

Still, I'm excited. The baby in question belongs to my best friend's sister who is a PhD student at Yale whose husband started a music magazine back in the 1970's that's still going today. Yes, they're the quintessential Park Slope couple. They even have the requisite brownstone. I'm sort of jealous, because even though I don't really understand kids, I totally want one. I constantly have daydreams about adopting a little girl from China and having her grow into this awesome, whip smart chick. These day dreams are countered by nightmares in which I'm attending an industry party and suddenly realize I've left my kid in a drawer at home.

At any rate, this real baby will be the only child in my life as my real nieces and nephews are scattered along the country so I have to get it something awesome. Babies like Grey Goose and Mystic Tans, right?