Whenever I get past following a certain number of Tumblr users — which I will not specify — I get twitchy. Sooner or later, I start a fight so I can stop following someone(s). It seems stupid and hurtful and unnecessary, but who knows? Anyway, if it’s you, this time, if there IS a “this time”, feel free to jump on me with both feet.
That Tumblr widget that tells you how much “love” you’re giving to other users is working with a floating time-frame; older “likes” fall off. For instance, right now it says that I’m giving the same amount of “love” to Quonky and Anthony Bourdain — but I’ve been following Quonky pretty much since I signed-up to Tumblr, and I’ve given her way more of those little hearts than I have to Bourdain, who I only started following a couple of months ago.
Maybe you already noticed this, but I just did, and I find it interesting.
I expect that this series will continue after my departure from The Mission.
Fair warning — I am balding. For the first time in my life, I am balding. I know it’s frightening, but I have become inured to the terror, if not the sadness, because several of my contemporaries started balding when they were still too young to legally drink spirits. I, however, waited until I was much closer to the upper end of an imaginary term insurance policy on my hair. (I say “imaginary” because no sane insurer would have insured me against baldness, had they looked carefully at my family tree.) (My real curse is that I am not sane.)
Nevertheless, I had some hairs cut, today. The flowing locks, the ponytails of yesteryear… ah, c’est la vie! They are years gone! Now, I specify the precise clipper size, to ensure that I look neat and clean, and not like an old dude with a nascent comb-over, or any other kind of bullshit hair thing. I want to look honest! Um, but I wear a lot of hats.
Walk of shame: hair grows out of my ears. My barber fixed that. I tipped well.
Gotta get this in before tomorrow — Southpaw BBQ is now open at 11 AM on Sunday only. Last weekend, I was headed down to Schmidt’s for a belated birthday brunch (pickled herring is like cake and ice cream to me) when I noticed that Southpaw was actually OPEN! “RIBS?” I thought, “Ribs for brunch? I’ll take that!” Well, the Sunday brunch menu does not include ribs, but it does include 2 eggs with hash and brisket (coulda used more potatoes, but smokey and delicious) and french toast for the wife (nice, now that Sycamore has stopped offering it). Also available: the house Bloody Mary, which is just right; spicy, but not TOO spicy (unlike the drink offered at Luna Park, which burned my mouth so badly that I couldn’t taste the rest of the meal) (never went back). Our waitress was kind enough to treat me to a sample of their green Bloody Mary, but it was too sweet and melon-y for my taste buds.
So, to wrap up, if you want a happy special occasion or hot date Sunday brunch, this is a wonderful place to have it. Fair warning, mixed drinks are $9, and dishes a little more. I haven’t tried the shots or beers, yet.
…for the birthday wishes and stuff. My special present was a wireless thermometer with remote pager plus timer, the kind you can stick in your meat, in the oven, go blog about in the next room, and it will beep you when the meat is the right temperature. So you know the cooking geek in me is well-pleased.
…where I can just delete single posts from my feed, so I don’t have to ever see them again. I don’t want to point any fingers in public, but a couple of the people I follow have posted some anomalously stupid things, recently, and I’d prefer deleting those posts to deleting their Tumblblogs.
Addendum: I fear that I am channeling, unnecessarily, the voice of the late Alfred Hitchcock… for which, I can only offer my most humble apologies. We shall return after 60 seconds of quite the opposite.