I have recently struck a deal, nay, an agreement with my wonderful Lute. He has been feeling as if he has been eating too much of my food and, well, frankly I don't care because if it doesn't get eaten it will just go bad.
He hates cooking, and I live in the kitchen when it hasn't been taken over by wine glasses.
So, he's going to chuck in some money every week and basically his conscience is clear.
I usually spend my Tuesdays mornings at the market and I can guarantee a few things to happen every time:
1- That I will run into 1928
2- That I will purchase more food than I can physically carry, and thus be swearing through the majority of the walk home.
3- That I will purchase more cheese than one person could concieve.
4-That I will take advantage of seasonal produce..and for the second week in a row, diving into the asparagus, 3 bunches for $5...boo-yah!
What I didn't bank on was this:
1- Running into the wonderful bohemian woman in met at Litchfield falls in NT about 5 months ago. She lived out of her car for 3 weeks and had leg hair that I wanted to braid. There was a commitment ceremony involved in the 45 degree haze, the cutting of hair and she gave me away to the gay gods. She's working in the organic section till January and then heading to Tasmania.
The only thing I wanted to ask her was if it were possible to drive to Tasmania. (I answered my own question, yes...on a boat.)
2- Buying spelt flour, buckwheat flour and quinoa. Yes people, this is for you. I guess I am going to try do some healthy baking, or play around with pie crusts. Who knows, I had a feeling.
As with quinoa, it is stupidly good for you and I guess it is time that I start eating it again. Keep posted...
3- Having my housemate at the market at the exact same time and opening the door to the house and realising that she was 2 minutes behind me the whole way.
And finally, after John Candy's birthday, none of us have been able to bring ourselves to take down the A0 posters.
Because they are awesome.
Lute's room is in the front of the house and there is huge face of JC stuck on the window. And, on many occasions, I have mentioned how close we are to the Hotel Lincoln.
Occasionally, he can feel people on the street watching him, but in the end, realise it is just the poster.
I have had friends walk down the back laneway, and sometimes the garage door gets jammed. When this happens, I get a number of text messages saying(not exactly, but are all similar to);
"Haha, your name is Buck and you're here to fuck."
That is because there is a giant poster of Uncle Buck in my room with the text from Kill Bill.
Oh, intertexualtiy. Love it.
Anyways, as we are all unpacking our groceries we get a knock on the door. Three businessmen are standing there on their lunch break and I'm holding celery in one hand and an avocado in the other. My other housemate is in the middle of sticking a mango in her face and Lute's at the door with a bowl of muesli and orange juice.
Businessman1- Hey, sorry to do this, but it is a bet for ten dollars.
Lute- Yes. (Omnomnom)
Businessman2- But, we were wondering...
Businessman1- is that John Candy
The Businessmen turn, laugh and head back the the Lincoln.
Ah, JC, God bless him.