31 January 2012

Nine Weeks to Sloppy Peanut Butter

No alarm. Just me, up about 2 minutes BEFORE said alarm would have screamed in my ear. Thinking a lot about food-related items and how I've lost my ability to even give a shit about cooking lately. Mainly because I am surrounded by food, in assorted degrees of decadence, all day long at work, so when I get home, I want nothing to do with it.  Which leads me to think about food and music.....for who knows what reason??

You've got food and sex....like here:


Back when Mr. Rourke didn't look quite like this: 

Kindly borrowed from the infamous Page 6 of the NY Post.....
But then, if you think about it, food doesn't carry such serious weight when it comes to music.....it kind of just passes sublime and heads right into ridiculous.....



Yet, it's catchy.....kind of like this....


Brought to mind by last night's menu of Sloppy Joes and mac n' cheeeeeeeeeeeese.  I had a craving. Sue me. And everytime I'm at work, on the Bakery side of life, I think of this....


That tickles me. Every time.  As does this....


Then there is this, a little ditty my son would constantly sing to me whenever he needed to make me smile....


If you've never heard or seen that, you'll never have the same life view of spuds again.  

I have this odd relationship with foodstuffs. To the point where I started ( and let languish) two blogs about food: 
  1. The Anti-Foodie
  2. Cooking Squared
I think that again, one day soon, I'll probably revamp them both and create SOMETHING of worth with them, because I do love to cook and I do want to send a message out to the residents of the Universe that we employ far too much waste when it comes to this form of survival.  Pipe dreams abound, circling around my one lonely brain cell. 

But for now, I leave you to ponder why food and music don't seem to mix under less than comedic circumstances!   Happy Tuesday!   

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