17 February 2010, 6:56 pm

I see stuff like this and I’m full of questions: how do you mean “overturning the urine bowl”? Is this an asian sport like Bukkake? Is it a superpower? And what on earth is Black Raspberry Wine? It sounds like porn for older guys with prostate problems and time on their hands, dreaming to once again (?) overturn the urine bowl with strenght of his pee.
3 February 2009, 12:07 am
I love the imaginary Italy you often encounter in America, mostly in food-related situations. It is of course a postcard version of my country that bears very little relation to actual contemporary Italia. The main character of this fictional Italy is certainly Alfredo, a not so common name that here seems to symbolize all food italian. The legend says that the actual Alfredo pasta recipe (which italians call Fettuccine alla Panna, and generally avoid) was passed on by an actual restaurant in Rome (Alfredo alla Scrofa) that I’ve never seen – and believe me, I literally spent my adolescence in the vicinity of Via della Scrofa. Still, it might be that some chef named Alfredo suggested to someone that a very cool pasta recipe was Fettuccine with butter and milk cream. In this case I wouldn’t recommend his restaurant (but 110,000 websites seem to think otherwise).
Wanna have something simple and nice? Try Spaghetti alla Carbonara (for 2):
1/4 lb. bacon
2 tablespoons of olive oil
1/2 lb. pasta (spaghetti or linguine)
2 whole eggs, moderately whipped
Fresh grated Pecorino cheese
Cut the bacon into little pieces and fry in the olive oil until crispy.
Boil the pasta al dente. Drain and put it back in the pot. Immediately throw in the eggs, the (very hot) bacon with its cooking oil and sprinkle with cheese. Toss and serve. Add black pepper to taste.
PS: By the way, there’s also an imaginary USA in Italy: it usually features some dude in jeans and cowboy hat, a low rent version of the Marlboro man.
31 January 2009, 1:53 pm
Exoticism, the dictionary says, is “the charme of the unfamiliar”. It seems to be the case of this air freshener whose scent is called Moroccan Bazaar. As anyone who’s ever set foot in a Moroccan Bazaar knows very well, “Fresh-ground ginger, one of the many stimulating scents at a Moroccan spice market” is in fact just one of them, the others being camel dung, roasted lamb, rotting vegetables, open air butchery and Kif smoke. I can think of many excellent reasons to visit a Moroccan Bazaar (and I would suggest the truly unforgettable Djemaa el Fna square market in Marrakesh), but the scent is definetly not one of them.