Book Review: “The Sex Lives of Cannibals”

I recently finished reading a great book called “The Sex Lives of Cannibals: Adrift In the Equatorial Pacific” by J. Maarten Troost.

This book, which is sort of a travelogue-meets-memoir about a guy who travels to “the end of the world” with his girlfriend and lives there for two years, had me laughing out loud every time I picked it up.

After both Troost and his girlfriend Sylvia go through a slew of lackluster post-college jobs, Sylvia accepts a two year contract job with the FSP (The Foundation for the Peoples of the South Pacific) where she helps create and maintain health, water and sanitation, nutritional and environmental programs for the citizens of Tarawa and the other islands of Kiribati (pronounced kir-ee-bas).

Tarawa: pretty much in the middle of nowhere.

Remember the geography books in middle school that featured maps of the world that looked like the world was an orange and someone tried unsuccessfully to peel it and lay the peel flat? I’m pretty sure that Tarawa would be one of the countries that got excluded from that map.

Tarawa, the capital of Kiribati, is an atoll, which is defined as a coral island consisting of a reef surrounding a lagoon.

While Troost certainly does describe the beauty of being on the island such as the extremely deep and vivid hues of blue that he’d never seen before and the freedom that he felt catching waves in the Pacific Ocean, those parts aren’t what made the book funny. The best parts are when he is forced to come to terms with the unhygienic ways of island life and his differences from the I-Kiribati people as an I-Matang (Kiribati word for “white man”).

Horrors On the Lagoon

On his first day on the atoll, Troost cannot withstand the unbearable heat and decides to go for a swim in the lagoon. While he is letting the refreshing waters of the Pacific revive him, he spies two hefty women walking into the shallows. To his utter horror, the women pull up their skirts and empty their bowels right into the water. Troost learns that this is the norm on Tarawa and swims carefully after that.

“La Macarena”

As part of getting adjusted to life on the atoll, Troost learns that the song that has practically become the national song of Kiribati is, strangely enough, “La Macarena”. He does note that even though the song is blasted day and night, it is fortunate that the I-Kiribati never learned the dance moves.

Driven mad by the 120 beat per minute song, Troost resorts to try finding music that the I-Kiribati hate. He plays the Beastie Boys’ “Gratitude”, and Nirvana’s “Lithium” which they like. Then he tries a different approach. He puts on a few minutes of La Bohème which they wrinkle their noses at and then settles on blasting Kind of Blue by Miles Davis, which works wonders. “La Macarena” isn’t heard for quite a a while on Tarawa after that.

Other Highlights

Troost’s eloquently written prose was a delight to read. At one point he makes the observation that one of the Kiribati government officials had “the mental capacity of an impaired anemone.” He also describes the feeling of first flying on Air Kiribati as how he feared for his life, but soon the holes in the plane let in a much needed breeze.

The first people to inhabit Kiribati were believed to be Samoan warriors who were cannibals at the time of their discovery of the country. Troost doesn’t delve too far into their sex lives but it makes for a great book title anyhow. I’m curious to read Troost’s follow up book, “Getting Stoned with Savages”.

Unknown Hinson: Pure Country Western Psychobilly Magic

Taking some much-needed time off from work to head down to Florida for a grown-up spring break has proven to be pretty rewarding so far. A few hours after rolling into town on Friday, it was time to jump back in the car and head over to Tampa for the Unknown Hinson show for which I’d been recruited.

The show took place at down and dirty little joint called Skipper’s Smokehouse located in north Tampa. It was one of those places you’d only find in Florida, open air, live oaks looming overhead, sand on the ground, and a mix of people ranging from hipsters to bikers to ladies who look like my Great Aunt Emily. The perfect intimate setting for what was about to take place.

The only thing I knew about Unknown Hinson before the show started was that his sound had been described as Rockabilly and the friend I went with to the show had stated that Unknown Hinson was a god. Good enough for me.

When we got to the show, the opening act, Beebs and Her Money Makers, was finishing up their set. We grabbed some drinks and merch and found a place to stand. A few drinks later, Unknown Hinson came on stage and the crowd went crazy.

Unknown Hinson at Skipper's Smokehouse in Tampa, FL on March 2, 2012

The first thing I noticed about this guy was not the widow’s peak, vampire teeth, or eyebrows that could burn holes into your soul, but it was his voice. I recognized it from somewhere, but it wasn’t until my friend leaned over yelled “Squidbillies!” that I understood. Unknown Hinson also does the voice for Early Cuyler on the animated Adult Swim show, Squidbillies.

The set list included such gems as “Talk American”,”Polly Urethane” which includes the lyrics “I’m glad I chose to date you / It didn’t take long to inflate you / I wish I’d known you long ago / Polly Urethane …” and this song called “I Cleaned Out a Room (In My Trailer for You)”.

Along with being the self-proclaimed “King of Country Western Troubadours” and singing songs with lyrics about love gone bad and the dark side of the honky tonk lifestyle, there is one thing that makes Unknown Hinson even more impressive. This guy can shred. His fingers were flying all over that guitar fretboard and the result was pure country western psychobilly magic.

Unknown Hinson mid-shred.

According to legend, Unknown Hinson was an only child named after his father “says right there on my birth certificate—Mama: Miss Hinson. Daddy: Unknown.” He never broke character during the entire show or after the show when he stayed to sign everyone’s posters, stickers, CD cases and boobs. He really cares about his fans and that was impressive to me.

After drinking an extensive amount of party liquor, or as the man would say, “party likker,” I left Skipper’s Smokehouse half drunk and a complete Unknown Hinson convert.

 

 

Roasted Bell Peppers Stuffed with Goat Cheese, Mozzarella and Tomatoes

Last week one of my coworkers brought in a lunch that made me so jealous I wanted to punch her in the head and steal it. Instead of assaulting her, I decided to recreate the meal myself with organic ingredients from the Dekalb Farmers Market.

It was my first ever trip to a farmers market (gasp!) and I fell in love immediately. While it is located in bumfuck Decatur, it’s well worth the trip. I went on Saturday and the place was a zoo. People. Everywhere.

The calm before the storm.

But once I stifled my inner agoraphobe I started making my way through the produce and was astonished at the quality, variety and prices of everything. I came across a basket of tomatoes that I thought were fake, they were so red and perfect. I bought all the necessary ingredients for the meal along with groceries for the week and was bracing myself for a total of about $120 or so.

But I was shocked when the cashier said $70. I bought booze, expensive coffee, olive oil, the works and that was my total. Kickass. Now on to the fun stuff.

 

Roasted Bell Peppers Stuffed with Goat Cheese, Mozzarella and Tomatoes

Ingredients:

(4) whole bell peppers
(1) 4 oz. tub of creamy goat cheese
(1) 8 oz. tub of crumbled goat cheese
(2) cups shredded mozzarella
(2) tbsp grated Parmesan cheese
(1) cup fresh diced tomatoes
(4) tbsp extra virgin olive oil
(2) tbsp bread crumbs
(1/2) cup hand torn fresh basil
sea salt & fresh ground black pepper to taste

Directions:

The first thing you need to do is roast the peppers. Preheat your oven to 450 degrees Fahrenheit. Wash peppers, cut them in half, remove insides (I used an ice cream scooper to do this, but a spoon would work fine), rinse all seeds out. Lay on a cookie sheet or pan covered in foil.

Separate out two tablespoons of olive oil and brush the peppers with it on both sides. Stick them in the oven for about 30-40 minutes turning every 15 minutes or so until they are nicely charred.

**Caution: Olive oil has a really low smoke point so your kitchen may get a bit smoky during this roasting process. I don’t know how to get around this other than to use a grill. I just opened the window and door to clear the air.

The peppers should look something like this when done.

While the peppers are roasting you’ll prepare the cheese filling mixture.

Yay cheese!

Dice the tomatoes.

Combine mozzarella, crumbled and creamy goat cheese, Parmesan cheese and tomatoes.

Spoon equal amounts of cheese mixture into each of the roasted peppers. Break out your fresh basil and tear into small pieces with your hands.

Sprinkle the cheese-filled peppers with bread crumbs. Top with fresh basil pieces and drizzle with the remaining olive oil.

Stick it in the broiler for 5-10 minutes or until cheese is slightly brown and bubbly.

There you have it, folks! If you make this recipe or have a solution to the smoke problem, I’m all ears. Leave a comment and help a girl out!

 

 

SoCon12: My First Foray Into Adulthood

After 24 years, I think I’ve finally passed into adulthood. It happened this past Saturday when I voluntarily woke up at 6 a.m. to attend a conference for my job.

The conference was called So Connected or SoCon12 for short and it was held at Kennesaw State University and was a basically a field day (minus the sack races and water balloon tosses) for social media nerds.

When you think of social media, what comes to mind? For many people, this is the extent of it:

When in reality, social media can actually do a lot for people and businesses when used correctly.

After drinking a few cups of decaf coffee that had maliciously been mislabeled as “regular” we filed into the auditorium to hear the keynote speakers. The first presentation was fairly interesting as it discussed the projected future of social media.

During the second speaker’s presentation, however, I started to fade. I’m not sure if it was getting four hours of sleep the night before, the lack of caffeine running through my blood, or the subzero temperature in the auditorium, but I had to resort to doodling to keep myself awake. This is what I came up with:

It's comforting to know that I'm putting my SCAD education to good use.

One of the funniest parts about the whole thing is that I didn’t even have a smartphone when I attended the conference. At one point, one of the keynote speakers actually asked the audience if anyone didn’t have a smartphone. One of my coworkers smirked at me with anticipation–I had been ostracized at work for not having one–but I lucked out when a man in the audience raised his hand.

I found out later that he restored ancient books as his profession and really had no need for a smartphone. Which led us all to the question, what was he doing at a social media conference in the first place?

After the keynote address, we parted ways and went to the first individual “breakout sessions” for which we had signed up. I picked a session called The War on Stupid (follow on Twitter: @TheWaronStupid) which I obviously chose for the name alone.

It turned out to be a very engaging and inspiring session. Here’s a short summary of The War on Stupid:

• Our access to information is ever-increasing. (An information buffet).
• Our sense-making abilities is not increasing at the same rate.
• The gap between these two is the stupid factor.

• Common side effect are that we are easily manipulated by the binary opposition we see in the media, etc. (i.e. liberals and conservatives arguing over politics) and we learn nothing but other people’s opinions.
• The solution is Translators.
• Translators are creative types (animators, sound designers, illustrators) who pair with sense-makers (journalists, academics, scientists) to make large amounts of data make sense visually.

After that we took a break for lunch at the Kennesaw cafeteria and went back for the afternoon breakout sessions. The second session I attended was called “Quit the Daily Grind: A Former Newspaper Reporter’s Social Media Journey to Freelance Success”. This session was held by Maryn McKenna, a very down to earth science writer who gave some excellent advice on freelancing and showed some funny links including the Tumblr “Things Organized Neatly” which I had seen before but totally forgot about.

The final session turned out to be a bit awful. It was supposed to be a session about how your words can affect people on the web but it turned into a 30 minute discussion on how to arrange the words in a particular sentence to make it stronger writing. It was like English Composition all over again. Terrible. However, we did finish off the day strong with drinks and more networking at Mellow Mushroom.

All in all a great first foray into the world of adulthood.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mary Kay: Like a Cult, But Without the Animal Sacrifice

Last night I had the single most horrifying experience of my life. It didn’t involve a severed human torso or carnies with brown Chiclet teeth; those things I can handle. This experience took me completely out of my comfort zone and into some alternate universe where faces are spackled and painted, each hair is frozen into place with layers of Aquanet, and you can hear bangles jingling from down the hall.

I attended a Mary Kay holiday meeting.

Not the kind that takes place in someone’s home with friends or women you vaguely know pushing their lip glosses and hand moisturizers. Those are bad enough. But this was a whole different animal.

It started when my friend Becky asked if I wanted to go to a Mary Kay thing where you learn about color and get a free lip gloss. Sounds kind of fun, right? I asked where it was taking place and she said the Holiday Inn down the street. That should have been my first clue. I didn’t have shit else to do so I agreed to go.

We pulled up at the Holiday Inn at 7 p.m. and walked down a corridor until we reached a table manned by two middle aged women who were entirely too perky. They gave us name tags and we were ushered into the meeting room. Becky and I sat down next to her friend that had invited us there. After a few minutes of chatting a woman with a high pitched voice and a red apron yelled at everyone in the full room to pipe down.

She immediately launched into her welcome spiel in which she equated Mary Kay to a sorority for adults. I should have bolted for the door at that very moment. She then announced that there was lots of recognition to be given that night. She asked the women who had sold $100 or more that week to stand up and then told the women who had sold $200 or more to remain standing and so forth until she reached $800.

Of course we were encouraged to clap each time and by the time the final woman was left standing the whole room was in a frenzy. I’ve never seen grown women act this way in real life. Jumping up and down and borderline crying. It was like an Oprah’s Favorite Things episode.

After the hour of recognition was over we had a short break. I wanted to grab Becky and make a run for it but I kept my composure. Every time she would glance over at me I would make a face and we’d both start laughing.

After the break it was time for the main event. The displays of makeup, skin care items, perfumes and holiday shit. The head Klansman asked one of the women in the back of the room, “Mary Beth Ann, why don’t you start by talking about our Mary Kay fragrances?” And sweet Jesus, was Mary Beth Ann excited. She ran through the whole line and then turned the show over to another woman who discussed the skin care products and so forth.

We were then given a 15 minute break to test the products during which I just watched Becky try on different eye shadows. At one point the head Klansman came over to me and asked if I would like to try any of the products. As I tried my best to politely smile and disguise the fact that I was counting her spackled-over crows feet, I shook my head and said, “No thanks, just looking.”

Then came my favorite part of the night. The time when one of the junior Klansmen was brought to the front of the room to “Share the Mary Kay Opportunity.” She passed out a slip of pink paper to each of the guests and asked us to take notes. Take notes? Is she fucking out of her mind?! When Becky looked at me I pretended to slit my wrists and we both started silently laughing again. I had to cover my face with my hand to keep from being a complete asshole.

The whole thing was extremely cultish. I was waiting for them to bring out the Kool-Aid, but it never happened. I avoided the coffee just to be on the safe side.

 

The Fall Update: Slacktober, Root Canals and Yes, More Paula Deen

Feeling pretty guilty about not posting anything since August. However, when I write 10-12 of these suckers (blog posts) a day at work it’s kind of hard to muster up the energy to get back on the computer when I get home. Most days I come home and send hateful thoughts and glances to my computer sitting innocently unused on my desk. When you work in social media, you tend to become resentful of the things that used to bring you enjoyment.

You also tend to learn the most random, useless crap and then shit it back out on several media platforms to share with others who probably also find incredibly useless. For example did you know that yesterday was in fact “Clean Your Refrigerator Day” (Janie, if you’re reading this, I totally used this info on my Facebook accounts, so don’t get mad) as well as “America Recycles Day”? It’s true.

Fortunately I’ve gotten to a good place where I’m on schedule with my work and not having to work 12 hour days like I have been the past few weeks. For some reason October just became Slacktober for me and then I was scrambling to reach my goal by the end of the month. At one point, I was so stressed out that one of my coworkers sent me this:

Then a kickass trip to Savannah happened the first week in November which was much needed. Good friends and strong drinks were right on point. I also rekindled my love with Bloody Marys at Molly MacPhersons at about three thirty in the afternoon on Friday.

Fuck it, throw a shrimp on there too.

I’ve heard that some places are making these with bacon flavored vodka now? Haven’t tried it, but I’m pretty sure that it would be delicious. The thing that really set the Bloody Mary at Molly’s off was a dash of A1 steak sauce. I like my Bloody’s to drink like a damn meal.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Things have certainly changed since week one in Atlanta. Not everything holds the rosy glow that Decatur held for me that first week here. For example, when I became full time at work I also got insurance which was awesome because it meant I could finally go to the dentist. Then I found out I had to get a root canal: not awesome.

Holy shit.

I’m really glad I didn’t see this illustration before I went in for the procedure or else I probably would have just let my tooth rot out of my head. Before the root canal I was in so much pain that I was seriously contemplating the old ice-skate-and-massive-rock method. If it worked for Tom Hanks it could work for me, right? The thing about root canals is that they are scary as hell, but when they are over the relief is almost instant.

So that was a fun little adventure. Atlanta has been treating me pretty well otherwise. I’ve been making more and more friends and getting out to explore the city when I can. The dirtiness of Little Five really appeals to me for some reason and then on the other end of the spectrum I also like the little downtown Norcross area. There’s a restaurant there creatively named Mojitos that has what I’m almost certain are the best fucking Mojitos on the planet.

Halloween was fun too. You’ll never guess who I dressed up as:

Butter, anyone?

Some people got it, some didn’t. The only thing that mattered is that my wig looked kickass under the black light.

Looking forward to the Thanksgiving break next week, definitely. Ready to go home and see some close friends I haven’t seen in a long while.

Until next time.

 

The True Form of Paula Deen

Thanks to a link on Facebook posted by my old SCAD buddy, Josh Buckner, I have found another tool that my archnemesis is using to woo innocent people into her clutches.

Those who know me know of my long-standing fear and loathing of the she-devil that is Paula Deen.

And now she has surpassed the world of food and is moving on to home furnishings. We all knew it was a matter of time before she spread her evil wings. The website for her new business venture, simply called pauladeenmattress.com looks a little something like this:

Mattress in the yard: now that's "Suthern Livin'".

I envision her flopping onto the Serta Ultra Cushion Top mattress, and before she can make some trademark comment about sleeping on butter, the mattress accidentally floats out to sea. She falls off the mattress and once the salt water touches her skin, she reverts back to her natural form:

It’s hot as fuck and my birthday cake has a missile launcher on it.

Now that I’m a working stiff it seems like the days drag and the weeks fly by. I can’t believe that it’s already August. What I can’t believe even more than that is that I now live in a place where there are actually seasons. In Florida the seasons go as such:

• Winter: “Jesus fuck, it’s cold outside!” -52 degrees.
• Spring: “Hey, it’s still pretty chilly, I think I’ll wear a sweater today” and by 11 a.m. you’re sweating and/or working with some righteous B.O.
• Summer: Pit stains and ball sweat.
• Fall: Certainly nothing “crisp” about fall in Florida. Picture the exact opposite of that.

The week before my 24th birthday I went home to pick up my brother Paul to bring him to Atlanta so that we could make the drive up to our grandparents house in North Carolina together the following weekend. On the drive up we took in the beautiful sunset over the hills of north Georgia.

I had Paul take this picture through my windshield, so it didn’t come out as well as I’d have wanted.

My camera doesn’t do it justice, but this was really pretty too.

Once we got into the mountains, the weather cooled off significantly. We spent the next day out on  Lake Nantahala on a pontoon boat that could precariously hold eight people. We had nine and an 85 pound dog.

Paul and the tubes on the pontoon boat.

The next day was my birthday and I woke to find Aunt Lin in the kitchen gingerly removing my yellow birthday cake from its perfectly good pan. She cut the dilapidated cake in half and stacked one half on top of the other. Then she began icing this monstrosity with chocolate frosting. This is what is came out looking like:

We decided that it was a battle-worn, weather-beaten army tank and needed a missile launcher in the front of it.

Then, of course, the only logical step was to light the missile launcher on fire.

All in all, it was a good birthday: family, the mountains and a missile-launching birthday cake.

Book Review: Lit

This past weekend I finished reading a memoir called “Lit” by Mary Karr.

I bought it the first week I moved to Atlanta at an independent bookstore called Blue Elephant Book Shop in downtown Decatur.  I was browsing the memoir/biography section when the one-word title caught my eye. I read the back and then flipped open to the Table of Contents where I began skimming the chapter titles. When I read titles like “Lost in the Golden State”, “Bent Bender”, “The Grinning Skull”, “The Nervous Hospital”, and “Dysfunctional Family Sweepstakes”, I was sold. It had been so long since I’d actually bought a book, I felt naughty, like I was purchasing contraband.

Looking at her author photograph, I knew that this woman had some shit to say. Deep, dark secrets that were yearning to be read and released.

Mary Karr

“Lit” is the story of Mary Karr’s life from a fucked up childhood to a wandering post high school drug haze to getting drunk and getting sober, becoming a mother by dealing with her own mother, divorce and learning to write by learning to live.  Karr went from not believing at all and laughing at even the prospect of God, to getting down on her knees and praying.

It was so interesting to read about her journey to finding her inner spiritualism. But make no mistake, this book is no “Eat, Pray, Love”. In fact Karr refers to Elizabeth Gilbert’s book as “Eat, Pray, Fuck”. Ha!

At one point Karr glimpses a scene from her childhood when her mother, in a drunken rage, is standing over her and her sister with a butcher knife planning to kill them. The mother’s later justification is that if she killed her two daughters, then they’d be safe from anyone ever hurting them.

Karr’s journey through severe alcoholism sends her to a “nervous breakthrough” leading her to a stay in the “Mental Marriott” where she begins to learn that life is worth living.

Mary Karr’s writing is poignant and searing and at times dark and hilarious. I laughed out loud many times while reading this book. Karr is self-deprecating to say the least.

“Lit” is not only the perfect book for anyone who has suffered through alcoholism, knows someone who has, or has generally struggled with a crazy family, but also anyone who enjoys excellent writing with nary a boring sentence.

This book receives a solid A.

Here is a short video with Mary Karr’s commentary on “Lit”.

 

Broetry

It probably won’t come as much of a surprise to you to learn that I hate bros. With their Sperry Topsiders, obnoxious pink Lacoste polo shirts with the collars flipped, and Widespread Panic tickets. And if I hear “Don’t Stop Believing” shittily sung at karaoke one more time, I will jump up on stage and strangle the singer with the microphone wire.

That said, there is one thing that I recently discovered that looks kind of hilarious and it’s called Broetry.

“Broetry” is a collection of poems for dudes written by Brian McGackin that details his observations on life from high school through college and on to a quarter life crisis.

Xbox 360, frozen pizza, Star Wars conventions, cleaning George Foreman grills, ninja warriors, and the cinematic wonder that is Bruce Willis are just a few of the topics discussed in Broetry. Some of the poem titles include “Stopping by Wawa on a Snowy Evening” and “Ode to that Girl I Dated For, Like, a Month Sophomore Year”.

This would make a great gift for a boyfriend or brother. Broetry will be released July 5, but you can preorder it on Amazon today. Hell, order me a copy while you’re at it!