No Way! Way!!! Like, Times Three

First off, my biscuits.

Grocery shopping yesterday, I found ten drumsticks for $3.08. Very cool. So what to do with them? I decided to coat them in flour and crushed red pepper, start off by frying them, and then roasting them at 450°. With the chicken, I made summer squash sauteed in butter, and biscuits.

Biscuits.

True story. I lived in a neighborhood called Lefferts Manor in Brooklyn. It holds the distinction of being the most integrated neighborhood in NYC. Once, for a block party, I made my biscuits. The ones with fresh rosemary and bacon. All the black women on my block were like, "Who made these biscuits? These are wonderful biscuits!"

True!

And weren't they surprised when it turned out that the white gay guy made the biscuits. And that nobody taught me, I taught myself.

We talked all about biscuits. I learned the importance of biscuits among African-Americans in the South. My neighbor Aline told me about how learning to make biscuits was the most traumatic event of her childhood. Her grandmother had her make biscuits. After they came out of the oven, her grandmother tasted one, and whalloped Aline hard. Then took Aline's biscuits and through them out in the yard with the chickens. And called Aline over to the window to show her how her biscuits were so bad that not even the chickens were eating them. And made Aline bake biscuits over and over and over again, whalloping Aline each time, each time tossing them out into the backyard, until Aline was able to make a passable batch of biscuits.

Right there on the spot, I invited everybody to my house for a biscuit feast. Everybody made their best biscuits, I served roast pork, coleslaw, and other stuff that goes well with biscuits.

It was amazing. The best biscuit you ever had in your life was the one in your mouth.

And everyone agreed, my biscuits rated.

So it's been years since I made biscuits. But my biscuits still rock.

That's number one.

Number two: Almost but not quite out of the blue, I got a call from the daughter of one of the foremost furniture designers of the 20th Century. Tomorrow I have an interview with her. She's looking for someone to help her manage her woodshop. I talked to her on the phone for about 45 minutes. She sounds wonderful. And the job sounds wonderful. And like something 2where I'd have a lot of opportunity to shine.

I'm a little bit unnerved at the idea of leaving Wuperior Soodcraft behind. At this point, if I left, I'd leave a big hole, y'know? They've all come to depend on me. And I make it a better place to work by being there.

But still.

It's a pretty amazing opportunity.

Just about right out of the blue.

And third?

On Saturday night, I had a date. With this smokin hot boy. Sling sex.

He's not Cigar Boy. He's about ten years older than cigar boy.

But I'm awfully sweet on him. And I think he's awfully sweet on me, too.

So that's three.

Oh. And three and a half. I just sent in the $300 that I've carefully saved to the tune of $20 per paycheck to secure myself space at Inferno in September.

I swear, I'm not used to all this good stuff.

I'll keep you posted.

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