evany's extended cake mix
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Thursday, Feb. 05, 2004 | link
Wouldn't it be awesome if they stopped trying to formulate tofu to mimic animals (tofurkey, unchicken, and the like). Doesn't that defeat the whole purpose? Hardcore vegetarians are sickened by the idea of killing animals, so something that tasted like said dead animals should be just as repellent. As long as you're faking the taste of meat, why not have a little fun with it: Say it's "unicorn steaks", or call it the otherwordly meat of a space creature that hails from the Fanta-Shasta-Fresca quadrant of the galaxy, a space creature that enjoys, no, NEEDS to be eaten -- like it can't reproduce unless it passes through the human digestive system.
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Or if there were a national Freaky Friday day where Richard and Gene Simmons had to swap places. For twenty-four hours, they would dress up like each other and drive each other's cars and fulfill each other's commitments ... on the radio, in the gymnasium, in bed. Laurie Anderson and Loni Anderson? Andy Rooney and Mickey Rooney? Bill Clinton and George Clinton? (Thanks to cake designer and number one Arsenio fan Jay Patrikios for that last one.)
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Or if rich and/or powerful and/or famous men stopped using their energies to land trophy wives. You know exactly what's going on when you look at a man like that, and it always seems so pathetic, stinking as it does of conditional love. On the flip side, when you see a man with an interesting-looking, or older, or non-traditionally beautiful woman on his arm, you think, "wow, there is a man with character, the two of them probably have unfair amounts of fun together, have so much to talk about!" It's those sort of pairings that illicit the kind of envy that I think the former type of men hope they're earning with their arm candies.
Like Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward and their 40+ years of presumably happy marriage, plus all that charitable popcorn and chocolate and cookies. When I think of them, all I feel is, wow, I want some! I don't think, wow, I wish he knew that he's still handsome enough to land a younger, tauter woman.
Do you hear me, Harrison Ford? I've always considered Harrison Ford one of the most painfully attractive men in the entertainment world, but that attractiveness plummeted when he left his nice, normal-person wife only to take up soon thereafter with Calista Flockhart (a name that sounds like something that has to be burned off in the gynecologist's office). Part of Harrison's immense draw was his unHollywood selection in mate, and when he shed her, he became so much less interesting.
That's right, Harrison. You can rescue all the dehydrated hikers you want in that chopper of yours, but my desire for you to park your thingie in my garage has cooled beyond all repair.