Here's one I bet you didn't see coming.

THE SRO FAILPROOF COOL DINNER

Go to the store. Go to the fish department (which is probably also the Meat Department) and get your favorite Butcher, who you call by name, to give you 3/4 pound of cooked shelled shrimp. If your store doesn't have a Meat Department or you don't know your Butcher by name, then get to work.

Buy a packet of Spanish Rice. If your store doesn't have Spanish Rice, where do you live? Man, you must be Hetero. Not that there's anything wrong with that but, c'mon, Spanish Rice.

Buy Soft Flour Tortillas. See above.

Buy Sour Cream, Shredded "Mex-Mix" cheese and an avocado.

Get home and pre-heat the oven at 475. Cook the rice. Oh, you'll probably need butter here but you can use Olive Oil.

The rice cooks till the next to the last commercial from the End.

Put one tortilla on a cookie sheet. Spread some cheese over it. Place the shrimps in a Buzby Berkley like way atop the cheese. Cover with the cooked rice. Cover with another layer of shredded cheese. Cover with a sercond tortilla and pop it in the oven. Go watch the rest of the show.

The cheese will melt and the tortillas will brown on the edges. Take it out and let it sit for a few. Cut it in quarters like a Pizza. Put one on a plate with a dallop of Sour Cream and some avocado slices.

This really is a winner. It looks cool, tastes yummy and takes a half hour. It's a good thing.

AW FUCK, I came thisclose to not saying that! MAN! I was all like "No dissing the Martha Goddess, dude." But man, what could I do? The recipe, the whole fucking thing man. It's all good. Really.

AW DUDE! WHAT ARE YOU LIKE? Fucking ruff, baby. The road is fucking ruff.
9:17:59 PM    sro home /

Hey doll. Miss me? Good answer.

I bet you wondered where I was. I know how hard it is keeping up with all Seven Billion, but I'm about to make your job easier. I'm back. Ta-da.

I've been far though. Over mountains, across long stretches of barren desert and all that walking made me thirsty. And thinky. Cool, huh?

I thought about how everyone on SRO grooves the Music Posts. I do. Since I'm the Grand Poobah, that's all that matters. I pictured us all sitting around the GPPad©, listening to some tunes. Having a cocktail. Shaking our GPGrooveThing©. You go girl. You work that cootch like muthafucka Hellfire.

Everyone would get a CD from the GP. Personally selected to enhance your travel experience. One of our Glamazon Stewardesses will walk fiercely down the center of the cabin. If you would like a CD, please send a donation to the PayPal Link convieniently located to the Right. This is mostly for administrative purposes. Noone will be refused for monetary reasons.Suggeted GPPrice©? $12.00 including S/H. You can pay anything you want but that's what the GP suggested. For 70 minutes of JoyJives. Love beats. Gooey Bliss.

For an unlimited time, each CD comes with Fab Artwork Covers designed by the GP himself. He will have touched it. Show the Grand PoohBah where people have hurt you in the Bad Place. Here, this will help.

I'll talk about some of the selections here on SRO. Some people will know them, some will not. Some will like them, some will not. Some will leave comments, and yes, some will not.

Irregardless, you can pop the CD into your Holiest of Holies and decide for yourself. See where I'm going with this? Good answer.

The first EWCD is pretty diverse. Old, new, older, really new. I like seeing the lineage of style between songs. I like, in my oh-so-Virgo way, to see it all wrapped nicely so as not to startle the animals. But you're not an animal, are you? C'mon.... are you? Good answer.

Well??
7:06:52 PM    sro home /

A New Yorker article a few weeks ago has been pulling at my Thought Strings. It was about the "New" (Improved!) Heterosexual Fad of Internet Sex Connections in Manhattan. (I don't have a link so you'll have to take my word for it. If we were talking at a Bar and I was telling you about something I read and pulled out the article, that would be weird.) According to the piece, Everyone's Doing It! Horny Junior Ad Execs all over the Big Apple are putting up Personal Ads for sex. Only this time... it's girls! Ooooo...! Newsflash to the NYer - 1)Girls like sex and 2) Duh. Internet SexMeets are so Nineties.

Just like Straight People to take something Cool and fuck it up. Disco. Drag Queens. Recreational Drugs. Quick Internet Pumpfests. If you're reading this and Straight (God bless you), I don't mean you. You've ended up here at SRO, so you were probably not directly responsible.

Back in the Day it was dirty. Basic. Fun. Odd even. It was a New Way of communicating and you had to be part of a Certain Crowd to even participate. You had to know something about Computors, for one. Pre Affordable Digital Cameras. Pre Home Scanners. Pre All The Stuff We Don't Think About Twice Now.

NYC was a common destination, so I was Prime Pickings for Vacation Fucks. The one everyone wants to have so they can go home to "Did you get laid?" and confidently answer "Did I ever!" Forget about all that Icky Bar stuff - buying beers, being nervous, wondering how you look. Iffy at best. This was a Done Deal. Fate Accompli. Check!

Say Saturday around 2-ish?
Call me when your flight gets in.

After all, you never know.

For a Young New Yorker On-The-Go, it was perfection. I was too busy to think about sex, for God's Sake. I much preferred having it scheduled in advance, a Common Virgo Trait. Cut to the chase. I really don't care how much you pay for rent. No, really.

One afternoon I saw a guy On Line who I'd chatted up before and turns out he was in town and looking to wile away the hours. He came over and about five hours later, we were actually chatting. I asked where he was from before he lived in his current city.

"Fort (Someplace). In Kansas."

A soldier! My plot thickened.

"Is that an army base?"

"No, it's a jail."

My plot wilted a little. "A jail?"

"Yes, I was in the Army and got convicted of assault when I was stationed in Germany."

"A jail?"

"I was attacked in Berlin by gay bashers and hit one really hard."

Wow. A jail. I was in my fab New York apartment and I just had sex with someone who went to jail! Window shattering sex. With this tattooed StudMeister. Work.

He was supposed to leave the next morning but when I came home from the gym that afternoon, he was waiting on my stoop. He looked happy to see me (Jail!) and came up for Round Two. When he left, he gave me the biggest baggie full of Mushrooms I'd ever seen. Told me he didn't want to take them on the plane. It was, well, sweet.

You can't get memories like that from Snail Mail. Not any more.

Jail.
12:14:59 AM    sro home /