In other news, E got paid!!! It was a magical paycheque that also included the reimbursement for our moving expenses. We spent Friday afternoon crying tears of joy re: paycheque, tears of frustration re: losing at the motor vehicle adminstration, drinking Dogfish Head, and eating a meatball sub!! See pic of sub below: it is quite possibly the most unappetizing picture in the history of food photography, and that in itself is something.
On the one hand, yeah, the pic was taken with the camera on my phone so expectations must be lowered for those kind of photos. On the other hand, this is a pretty accurate depiction of said meatball sub: the cheese hermetically sealing in the meatbally-saucy goodness. But it was $5.50 at a sport's bar so all things considered it was pretty good. And the more I drank, the better it got. With E's windfall, we've determined to eat our way down Charles Street, going in order in a southerly direction until we hit the harbour. Rules are no restaurants can be skipped, no matter how sketchy, no matter how upscale, no matter how offputting. Will I have a Maryland's driver's license before we're done the Charles Street Challenge? Hard to say, hard to say.First up was Turp's where I purchased the above meatball sub. We're going to call it Turd's from now on, not because it was terrible but because wtf kind of a name is Turp's anyhow?
Last Monday we tried another bar in Towson -- Soulis -- at the suggestion of our new favorite preservation librarist. I had my first Natty Boh. It tasted like Bud.
It's a bit hard to get my perky blog self agoing this morning, mostly because my drive and optimism was sucked out of my being last night at a party held for E at one of the history dept people's house. It was like that scene in that Howard Hughes biopic with Cate Blanchett and Leo DiCaprio, when Howard goes to Katherine Hepburn's family's house for dinner and has a miserable time: see clip. It's bad news when you're identifying with HH, alls I'm sayin. Welcome to the east coast!
Spectacular convos from last night:
Realtor (who sold everyone at the party their house and when it comes time for us to get a house we simply *must* go with her. She is from Georgia, has lived in Balto for the past 34 years and hasn't lost one iota of her Georgia drawl): Oh, you have a Jack Russell? Terrible little dogs. I have a cockapoo myself. Wonderful thing, doesn't shed.
Me: Really? My mother had a cockapoo and she said that every now and then she would find little clumps of hair here and there. Do you find that?
Realtor: I surely haven't but I believe my housekeeper has.
Me: I see.
Hostess (whose row house was like a museum of nineteenth century Americana): Did you read about that man who was killed with a samurai sword up by where you live, Juice? Terrible.
Juice (precocious adult, former academic child): It was terrible! The news said that the guy with the sword didn't mean to kill the man but then there were these suspicious defensive wounds on the burglar. Though, whatever, I guess that's just one less burglar to worry about.
Hostess: Were there really defensive wounds? Maybe the man didn't know how sharp the sword was. Samurai swords can be very sharp.
Me: I would think that a sword of any kind could do some damage.
Hostess: We have a sword in the family, don't we? From my father's side of the family, a Civil War sword, it was my great grandfather's. But I think you'd have to really work to saw a man's hand off with that sword.
Later in the evening, That Guy parodied a Dutch-English accent for wayyyy too long in order to make fun of professor at Princeton. He told us that compared to Chicago, Yale, Harvard and Stanford (all of which he's somehow attended), Princeton has more blond/es. He declined to do his famous South Asian accent out of deference to the dept chair (not invited) who is, in fact, South Asian, but assured us that it was spot on. He told me a long story about how once, back in the day, my advisor was his TA and how he thinks she's just brilliant and when she gets her ivy league posting, as she surely will, it will be inadequate compensation for all her brilliance and all her publishing and her crap positions along the way. And I should be sure to tell her that he thinks that. Being a That Guy, he lacks an off button, which is a shame. He also has a very distinct NY accent which I hope I can imitate one day.
If this link works, behold the mystery of Terp's name revealed:
ReplyDeletehttp://www.baltimoresun.com/entertainment/dining/bal-ae.fo.tabletalk23sep23,0,7157546.story
Sorry I misspelled it--I meant Turp's. It is always a delight when you update your blog, D. Even your readers bring their A games in terms of bons mots.
ReplyDeleteIs it a Canadian thing to drop the preposition with the word done? I've heard you and J both do it. As in "when we're done exams, blah blah blah." I would say "done with." Is it a Western thing?
Uh oh. This is quickly becoming super lame, but I will soldier on and post it anyway because, gosh darn it, I want to get to the bottom of this sentence construction issue!
Do I get points for at least recognizing my lameness? :)
Hmmm, I have never considered my propensity to say "done" instead of "done with." But if Americans are always finding ways to be more responsible (says that commerical on the food network), I can only imagine that Canadians are always finding ways to be more efficient. Anyway, I'm done this.
ReplyDeleteGood finding of the Turp's article! Yeah, now that I've read the article it totally deserves to be called Turd's. Tomorrow I'm dining at the glorious Gouchez cafeteria (all you can eat for $6.00) so will let you know how it compares to Turp's.