You Foodies Make Me Sick

Last night I dreamed that I'd traveled to Mars as part of a photojournalist expedition to locate and photograph what life forms there were that could be found. In the dream, Mars was really lush and cool, and a bunch of humans -- holdovers from previous expeditions -- had set up apartments there, so there were comfy accomodations for all of us. We did manage to find one apparently indigenous life form, a practically naked woman not disimilar to Pris, who took a bit of shine to me. Unfortunately, like Pris, she turned out to have a bit of a murderous side, so I had to high-tail it out of there before consumating our relationship. But I remember thinking, in the dream, that I'd have a lot of sweet pictures to post in my 'blog. But I don't.

A couple of restaurants:

• Melt (not Milt, which would be pretty funny), over on Bergen and 5th was supposed to be great, according to my boss, who is an incorrigible "foodie," but the pistachio-encrusted cod drizzled with minty pea puree that I ordered kind of made me want to puke on Friday.
• Bogota, on the other hand, on 5th and Degraw, is pretty goddamn great. My entree came with a side of cilantro-garlic mashed potatoes, which I'm pretty sure I want to eat every day.

Last week, K-Flo got me and some others into this movie premiere party for Jenny McCarthy's new movie, Dirty Love. The movie is apparently loathsome, but the party was fun and the drinks were free. And the venerable Gawker photog, Nikola Tamindzic, was there to take these pictures! We are not in any of them, but basically everyone who was sitting near us got snapped. Insider info: Jenny McCarthy is shorter in real life.

Yeah, so in my ongoing efforts to be more spontaneous, yesterday I was walking by the Prospect Park Green Market, and decided to take a stroll through the baked goods section. All of the stuff was pretty warm -- I'm thinking it was baked that morning -- and this peach pie with a cool vine-and-leaf dough filigree caught my eye, so I bought it. Well, Tom et. al. didn't seem that interested, so I brought it home to Sophie, and we had some with our evening tea. It fuckin' sucked! Very bitter and un-peachy and swarming with cloves and cinnamon. Sophie reckons whoever baked it used an apple pie recipe and just swapped in the peaches, and I reckon she's right.

I played a bunch of Sid Meier's Pirates! over at T's place -- Captain Jerk Jenkins managed to rescue his long-lost sister and uncle who'd been sold into slavery by the Marquis de Montalban, but then he got bored.