Delicious BBQ

Delicious kalbi beef, sausage, and veggies, oh my! Not counting the vast quantity of wonderful and unique non-grilled dishes, like the inari with soba inside instead of rice, or the prosciutto inexplicably on radish. Ah yes, and brigadeiro contributed by yours truly, which was not perfect, but not an abject failure either.

The abject failure is sitting in my fridge. Where I will nibble at it until it goes away, or until I find a victim. It tastes right, but the consistency is totally screwed up. I am ashamed. I may have to give back my Brasilian passport.

Anyway, let's hear a hallelujah for carports. Otherwise the BBQ would have been doomed. Doomed. Allegedly it's a typhoon, but if so, where's the wind? Not a patch on a proper hurricane, I tell you.

I am aware that this seemingly contradicts my thesis. But Ron is
sitting at the table, so if you think about it, it really doesn't.

There seems to be something universal about people putting meat on a grill: the dudes congregate around it, while the girls hang out at the table. It happens in the states, it happens in Brasil, and it happens in Japan. Whether it's due to the meat or fire or knives (here, chopsticks) or some combination of the three, the result is some weird atavistic "here we be men" thing.

I imagine that regardless of any other local customs, when you see dead animals over a fire on a rest day, you know: dudes over here, chicks over there.

Most of this was typed on the train home. I even feel like I could be productive this evening.

So, this evening I will...

• Finish the cover letter and resume for J.

Tomorrow:

• Spiffy up a spec and send resume to Y
• Investigate 8/4
• chipmunk and box2d cage match