Archive for July, 2004
I’m number one in this search for potato and sweetcorn chowder.
Web Nymph is a news aggregator website taking the best blogs, games, movies, music, news, politics, and technology websites it can find and presenting them in an easy format available for viewing wherever you are.
There are some great sites on there and it’s great to have an “additional blogroll”, especially for those of us bursting at the seams [I have a punning clan to fix that one of these days]. I do use a desktop aggregator (SharpReader) but to be honest, I forget to open it up most days and then I have to trawl through hundreds of posts that I’ve already read when visiting you guys. And bestest of all, it’s the opportunity to see stuff that you wouldn’t necessarily find elsewhere – I just popped in for two minutes and came across Joe Cunningham’s photography (look at this gala apple) and funny blog where the hell was I.
Because we’ve always got tomatoes in the fridge (I’m a tomato junkie) and usually have 1 or more packets of cooked prawns in the freezer (our local branch of Sainsbury often does 1/2 price specials), I’d go so far as to say this is a store cupboard standby recipe. Anyway, I cooked this last night, it took less than 15 minutes from start to finish and I’ll definitely be doing it again. Deeelishus.
Ingredients [serves 4]
- 400g (14oz) long pasta (I used linguini)
- 1tbsp olive oil
- 2 x 250g tubs cherry tomatoes, halves [I’d use any tomatoes in the fridge]
- 2 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed
- 300g (11oz) cooked prawns
- 1 tsp chilli flakes
1. “I can’t find it”
MEANS: It didn’t fall into my outstretched hands, so I am completely clueless.
2. “That’s women’s work”
MEANS: it’s difficult, dirty, and thankless.
3. “Will you marry me?”
MEANS: both of my roommates have moved out, I can’t find the washer, and there’s no peanut butter left.
4. “It’s a guy thing.”
MEANS: there’s no rational thought pattern connected with it, and you have no chance at all of making it logical.
A hurricane came unexpectedly. The ship went down and was lost. The man found himself swept up on the shore of an island with no other people, no supplies, nothing, only bananas and coconuts. Used to 5-star hotels, this guy had no idea what to do, so for the next four months he ate bananas, drank coconut juice and longed for his old life and fixed his gaze on the sea, hoping to spot a rescue ship.
One day, as he was lying on the beach, he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. It was a rowboat, and in it was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. She rowed up to him. In disbelief, he asked her: “Where did you come from? How did you get here?”
“I rowed from the other side of the island,” she said. “I landed here when my cruise ship sank.”
“Amazing,” he said. “I didn’t know anyone else had survived. How many are there? You were lucky to have a rowboat wash up with you.”
“It’s only me,” she said, “and the rowboat didn’t wash up; nothing did.” He was confused. “Then how did you get the rowboat?”
“Oh, simple,” replied the woman. “I made the rowboat out of materials that I found on the island. The oars were whittled from gum tree branches. I wove the bottom from palm branches and the sides and stern came from a eucalyptus tree.”
“B-B-But that’s impossible,” stuttered the man. “You had no tools or hardware. How did you manage?”
“Oh, that was no problem,” replied the woman. “On the other side of the island there is a very unusual stratum of alluvial rock exposed. I found that if I fired it to a certain temperature in my kiln, it melted into forgeable ductile iron. I used that for tools, and used the tools to make the hardware. But enough of that,” she said. “Where do you live?”
Sheepishly, he confessed that he had been sleeping on the beach the whole time. “Well, let’s row over to my place, then,” she said.
After a few minutes of rowing she docked the boat at a small wharf. As the man looked to the shore he nearly fell out of the boat. Before him was a stone walk leading to an exquisite bungalow painted in blue and white. While the woman tied up the rowboat with an expertly woven hemp rope, the man could only stare ahead, dumbstruck.
As they walked into the house, she said casually, “It’s not much, but I call it home. Sit down, please; would you like a drink?”
“No, no thank you,” he said, still dazed. “I can’t take any more coconut juice.” “It’s not coconut juice,” the woman replied. “I have a still. How about a Pina Colada?”
Trying to hide his amazement, the man accepted, and they sat down on her couch to talk. After they had exchanged their stories, the woman announced, “I’m going to slip into something comfortable. Would you like to take a shower and shave? There is a razor upstairs in the cabinet in the bathroom.”
No longer questioning anything, the man went into the bathroom. There in the cabinet was a razor made from a bone handle. Two shells honed to a hollow ground edge were fastened onto its end inside a swivel mechanism. “This woman is amazing,” he mused. “What next?”
When he returned, she greeted him wearing nothing but vines – strategically positioned – and smelling faintly of gardenias. She beckoned for him to sit down next to her.
“Tell me,” she began, suggestively, slithering closer to him, “we’ve been out here for a very long time. You’ve been lonely. There’s something I’m sure you really feel like doing right now, something you’ve been longing for all these months. You know…”
She stared into his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Thanks to Little Bits for this – it’s not a direct link, but if you scroll down or search for haka you’ll find ’em. You’re especially looking for
EXCLUSIVE: Watch the All Blacks perform the haka on Auckland’s Kare Kare Beach for their 2004 poster.
p.s. Best wishes to Jonah Lomu, in recovery following his kidney transplant.
p.p.s. Shame the England team don’t have a similar pre match tactic. How about morris dancing with attitude?
From the sublime to the ridiculous. Both links stolen from Kimberly. There are oodles more links but I thought I’d draw the line at two. For today. Therefore today’s first recommendation is to git on over to squoogy.com.
Coming up tomororow: the fastest pasta dish on the plant. Allegedly. And a tasty little lentil number. Coo.