Today's Lunch Is Brought To You By The Letter P
The Home Economist was-- and this is pure speculation on my part-- a health food store tricked out to draw in housewives who wanted to shop cheaper by way of shopping smarter. It was a chain with an agenda, offering bulk goods for cheap so that people would eventually buy their holistic medicines and herbal cures. Not that there's anything wrong with that, per se, it's just that the agenda had it's blind spots. I can't say for others, but I always went for the cheap bulk herbs, peppercorns, and sea salts, but most of the organical healthfood stuff was expensive enough that it never drew me it. Any given time I went in, the majority of the patroni were the kinds of granolas who believed buying the healthy stuff was both worth the money and ethically superior.
(Which, I dunno. Maybe the world should change. I don't know that it will . . . )
The store has since been retooled as a neighborhood grocers with organic and health food options. This includes a full service butcher shop with house made sausage and grass fed beef. And pastrami. Amen.
But anyways, pastrami. Here on seeded Jewish rye with mustard, boom, like that, with the Utz salt & pepper chips and coupla Saras. I lead with the IPA and followed with the pale, although what difference that might make, I just don't know.
The movie of the day is not Piranha. This was the movie of last night, and, believe me Jesus, once was well more than enough. It's even hard to know where to start in describing it. First off-- why the hell not!?!-- first off, suffice it to say that it was obvious this was in 3D, despite the fact that we didn't have the glasses. Everything-- blood, breasts, boats, bastards, bug-eyed carnivorous fishes-- everything that started with B came flying at us off the screen. (Bullets! Yeah, bullets too!) Most of the acting by the principles was actaully on the subdued side, at least for this kind of flick. But the extras were off the charts, portraying what must have been the most annoying, irritating, headache-inducing display of hedonism and pulchritude ever seen on the face of this earth outside the gates of the sister cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. Oh, and then there was Jerry McConnell, playing a loud, rich asshole to the Nth degree, I mean absolutely chomping, devouring, destroying the scenery, above and beyond the call of duty. The CGI fish were magificent, detailed and vicious and relentless. Oh, and, of course, the two requisite moppets were . . . Well, frankly, they were generic, perhaps the one spot in the whole production that wasn't taken completely over the top. And, of course, the plot made no sense whatsoever. And the ending-- spoiler alert!-- there was no ending. The thing didn't end so much as fill 90 minutes that felt like three hours and then just kind of stop. There was a twist at the end-- The End! Or IS it?-- thaaaaaaaaaat I really just didn't fucking care about. In the final analysis, we were kind of glad we saw it, in the kind of way people who saw the Hindenburg might have been glad, just so if people might express a doubt that it actually happened, we might be around to say ooooooooooooooh yes, this definitely happened.
So do I recommend it? Hard to say. I know I like pasrtami. This was the third installment of pastrami from what the Wifey and I have come to call the Happy Lucky Family Food Store. The first was hot on rye with mustard. The second was hot on rye with turkey, mustard and white cheese. This one brought back memories of many lunches on the streets of New York. So you might not like pastrami, or you might not like New York, but I'd recommend it anyways.
The movie? Never before have so many bared breasts been so poorly used.