There's Something About Breakfast

There's something about breakfast which makes the whole meal a little depressing. Is it the dirty dishes trying to attract swamp lilies in the sink? Is it the blood-like speck of tomato sauce that hasn't yet made it down the drain? Is it the empty can which I will have to carry for two miles to the closest recycling station? Perhaps. But maybe it's just the time at which this particular breakfast is being served. 11:15. The day is halfway over. The cycle of nourishment, eternally lagging behind, has just begun.

Free Sausage! Free Innuendo-free Sausage!

What was your biggest accomplishment in life? Did M. Night Shyamalan respond favorably to your screenplay about a hot dog tormented by the ghosts of the pigs from whose ground anuses it was made? Did you sail the Seven Seas on a tankship full of your own urine? Did you lose 50 pounds by thinking of pig anuses and tankfuls of urine everytime hunger overcame you? Fair enough. But unless you got a free (in capitals: FREE) sausage in Zurich better stay at home and work on that cargo. You read correctly: we obtained the sausages depicted above completely free of charge. I'll tell you how. But it's going to cost you.

Hate the Poacher Not the Egg

Guests are like herpes. You don't remember how you ended up with them, but once you do you are stuck with them for much longer than you thought. On the plus side, guests will occasionally cook for you. Herpes will not. Presented for your viewing pleasure: the first poached eggs of my life as prepared by Cody E. Livingstone, Esq. Our inspiration: a video by Estonian gourmet chef Tanel Koppel. For detailed instructions on the egg-poaching procedure, however, we relied on another video by an overweight yet talented US housewife. Afer all none of us understands Estonian all that well. An armada of side dishes - herring, bread, cheese, and tomatoes - completed the feast. Why? Because herring, bread, cheese, and tomatoes are cheap. And so am I!

From Dusk Till Dawn

Beverages are like vague threats: society would crumble without them. In the picture we see two beverages that have become of special importance to me. My Lithuanian vodka helps me sleep much like my teddy bear did until a year ago. The horribly overpriced Nescafé on the right reverses the vodka's soothing effect and gets me ready for yet another soul-crushing day in the trenches. These liquids are my Yin and Yang. My fish and chips. My Trinidad and Tobago.

The Golem: Onions to Onions, Meat to Meat

Updates have been scarce over the last few weeks, which has led ill-informed insiders to conjecture that I have not eaten anything. My physique may warrant the claim, but the truth is once again a tad more sinister: I have been subsisting on portions greatly reduced in size to set aside enough meat and vegetables for my most horrifying project yet: the Golem (or the New Promeateus). Nothing left to do now except blow some life into it and terrorize a village.

Glum Gum

Life grinds your dreams between its molars until they have lost all flavour then spits them out into a puddle of cold wet grey. As soon as I have found a depressing analogy for the neon tube and the speckled wood spitting a piece of gum onto my desk will seem almost justifiable in retrospect. Is the liquid you see my own saliva? Mystery continues to shroud the answer.

Caterpillar of the Food Pyramid

The table is set for a filling lunch of grilled meat. Salads, bread, mustard... everything is ready. Except for the roast which is still sitting on its chair and has not even been skinned yet! It is arguably a fat piece of meat and might need more than an hour on the grill so we should get some hors d'oeuvres first. I hear the ears taste great fried in olive oil.