When I open my copy of SI, I want to read about SPORTS. It's what the S in SI fucking stands for. If I want to see pretty women, I'll hit the tubes and find a veritable smorgasbord of titillation and outright sexual provocation without even working hard, and yes, there's a pun in there.
The swimsuit issue is like a pair of bloomers: they both used to be arousing, but they're both helplessly out of step with the times. Hell, spank mags like Playboy are considered tame these days. Seriously, who whacks it to Playboy anymore? And the issue means no actual sports content for that week. It's yet another minor suck - the cor anglais in the orchestra of my misery - the pickle to the shit sandwich that is my life these days. So here's a great big FUCK YOU to Sports Illustrated and its ridiculous attempt to titillate sports fans with half-dressed women.
In other news on the healthy eating front, Tootsie and I went food shopping earlier this evening. Our local market had haddock on sale for $5.99 a pound, and we bought some and cooked it up for dinner. It was FUCKING AWESOME.
Here's what we did, and before I tell you, bear in mind that it sounds a little odd, and even a little indulgent, but it's really not either thing. If we just baked the haddock, it would be kind of dry and not particularly interesting. So Tootsie took one part greek yogurt and mixed it with one part mayonnaise, added a little ess and pee, seasoned it with basil (but really IMO should have gone with dill), and a liberal pinch of parmesan. We put the haddock, which was already filleted, in a glass baking pan and covered it about 1/8 inch with the goo, and baked at 400 for about 25 minutes, then turned on the broiler to give it a little color for about 6 minutes. A few steamed greenie beanies on the side and boom, dinner with 10 minutes prep and 30 minutes cook time, that was unbelievably fucking yummy and so easy a gorilla like me could prepare it again, which we will.
Finally, denizens of New England do not need to be told that this has been one of the mildest winters in recent memory; it's snowed perhaps three times, after which the incredibly mild temperatures made quick work of the snow.
But today it snowed a decent amount, and as Tootsie and I went food shopping, the last throes of Winter bestowed a final gift to me: wet feet. And I remembered just how miserable Winter can be, how many dry pairs of socks a fella can go through on a snowy day, and just how fortunate we've been this year that the snow has largely left us alone. And now, just you watch: now that I've taunted the gods of weather, it's going to snow eighteen times between now and midsummer. FML.
So to sum up, SI's swimsuit issue is old and unfunny; baked haddock is bold and yummy, and Winter is cold and runny. Yeah, I know Winter isn't runny, but I needed it to rhyme.
* to my gay friends, please accept my apologies by the association of being a red-blooded man with being heterosexual; no offense intended but a fella just can't drop every idiom right away.