#specifically pineapple jalapeno pizza.

[merrilark]

Gosh, I want pizza.

Actually, I really want pad kee mao.

But I can't have Thai so I would reaaaaaaally love pizza as a plan b.

[pupgrltc]

tagged by @krissytransmom, the pretty lady who likes my Tummy Tuesdays oh so much!

My favorite color - lilac purple, i absolutely adore lilacs i had a lilac tree in my backyard growing up so i associate the smell and color with fond memories

Last song - When Ur H3rt StopZ Beat1ng!!!! </3 - xxxmyspaceslut

Currently reading - Hood Feminism: Notes From The Women A Movement Forgot by Mikki Kendall. I'm just at the beginning of the book just past the first chapter and I can tell this is going to be an amazing read, 13 pages in and we already have such a nuanced look at the contemporary feminist moment, it is unafraid to be blunt and talk about the issues within the movement and the people the movement has left behind! i would highly recommend yall check this out!

Currently Watching - revolutionary girl Utena, with by girlfriend! its so so so so gay and i see now why to Tumblr girlies go wild for it

Currently craving - ok this is a weird one and yall might hate me for this abomination of a pizza but a BBQ sauce pizza with Canadian bacon pineapple onions and jalapeno well done so the cheese is golden brown, from a very specific pizza place i used to work at

Coffee or Tea - energy drink ;3

i guess this is the part where i nominate some more ppl so @losttodreams @sistercara @shakukon-to, yall are up!

[archonfurina]

ok now i need to know your top 5 favorite foods!

This is tough because I love food!! But I'll try and add pictures too

Falafel with couscous and salsa. I haven't had it in soo long bc I'm depression and making food is effort

2. Christmas food!! So basically salmon and potatoes, ham, rosolli, carrot casserole, potato casserole, rutabaga casserole, and salads. This picture doesn't really look so appetizing and it's missing salmon but it's good.

3. Tortillas or pita pockets with minced meat. It's soo easy to make and I always make this when I can't cook but don't want to eat a frozen meal or something

4. Iskender kebab. I don't know what to say about this one except it's good. I've also eaten a lot of Turkish dishes recently bc of my mom's boyfriend, but I don't remember their names so I put this. It's my favourite anyway I think

5. Pizza, specifically one with salami, ham, jalapenos, pepper, olives, pineapple. That's my photo when I made it myself and again doesn't look the best dhjfajdhsf :(

[gameclam]

I'm the same guy but Freemind/Barmey food headcanons? (sorry)

dont be sorry i have these ready to go in my brain for a reason

Barmey food headcanons;

He's not that picky and will eat just about anything even if he doesn't enjoy it

Didn't know how to cook real food for a long time bc he never learned and didn't want to.

loves big sandwich.

Chips and random snacks are his favorite things to eat he'll eat doritos for 4 weeks straight as his only food if he wanted

Can eat an entire buffet by himself

By default everything freemind makes is his favorite things to eat

Likes Muffins. Even if they're dry and not that good he still enjoys them

Favorite breakfast is Crepes but only if they're made right (He hates crepes from ihop. he'll still eat them though)

has been eating like a college student since he was born

His favorite fast food joint is burger king

fave ice cream is any of them with as much syrup and crap on them as you can put in there

Will eat a snack in every situation. He could be in a room where they say to not eat or you'll die and he'll do it anyways

Only time he doesn't want to eat is if he's like REALLY REALLY fucking depressed. but that doesn't happen that often.

He could maybe forgive too many things if u give him something to eat directly after

Usually gets the same things off the menu but has no problem trying something else

Would eat any slice of pizza and doesn't care what's on it

Freemind food headcanons;

gets the same exact item off the menu every single time. He would have a full meltdown if his favorite item is taken off and would rather drive into a wall then try something new. this has ruined his day or week multiple times

terrible at knowing what he wants from restaurant menus. He will be stuck on two items bc he doesnt know what he would enjoy more (also he has a weird minor anxiety like "what if i choose x and i shouldve chosen z and now i've irreparably damaged my future). this can be avoided if Barmey is with him bc Barmey will go "choose that one" when he's struggling

He thinks burgers from fast food places are shit. he hates burger king. He will still eat carls jr n shit sometimes tho. not mcdonalds or burger king though

Favorite dessert is a specific creme brulee from a specific fancy place. His fave NORMAL dessert is pumpkin pie though

His favorite fast food place is KFC

He loves spicy shit. even if it hurts. he could eat carolina reapers for fun

Unbearable need to steal as many sugar packets as he can fit into his pockets. he WILL in fact eat them straight up

Favorite ice cream is Pistachio AND Banana, he has a hard time choosing which one is his fave fave

Favorite breakfast food is breakfast burritos. though he doesn't eat much breakfast

he tends to skip out on breakfast and very rarily he'll have chips for lunch. Depends on day/mood/year. He's got kind of an unhealthy relationship w/ food for a while but it gets better.

If he is at a restaurant and he finds hair in his food he's usually grossed out but he can still eat he'll just. section off that bit that had it in there but if he's having bad enough day he'll just leave. he wont even pay

Chronic chewer of random rubber. He is not against just straight up eating it too if it just happens to happen. counting this as a food thing

claims to not be a sweets guy but 99% of the snacks he eats is candy. fave is laffy taffy (banana)

Pizza order is exactly this (taken off dominos so i could visualize it better);

EXTRA tomato sauce, Bacon (NOT CANADIAN), Chicken, Pineapple, Mushroom, Red and green peppers, banana peppers, Jalapeno peppers, black Olives, Buffalo sauce (optional), if he doesn't get buffalo sauce he put sausage on it instead.

here's the visualization (left is sauced right is with sausage instead) + Extra cheese. He will actually hurt you if u make fun of him for this order

He likes to organize the food on his plate from least desirable to best so he can eat his favorite part/food last.

[miss-mania]

pineapple on pizza y/n

Ok I personally do not like it but I understand it in concept lol. You can have pineapple salsas and stuff that go great with savory food. The specific combination of pineapple and cheese really does not work for me though.

No one should listen to my opinions though because my favorite pizza is pepperoni, pickled jalapenos and anchovies.

[yewstronaut]

2, 9, 10 for the favourites ask game?

2. 🐦‍⬛ Favourite bird?

Corvids, Specifically I'm really into that one poisonous corvid rn

9. 🌳 Favourite tree?

Ok so you'd think yew trees but it's actually Magnolias. There was one growing in the front yard of one of my childhood homes and I've been in love with them ever since.

10. 🍕 Favourite pizza toppings?

Alas I can not eat pizza anymore however! when I could I enjoyed pepperoni, pineapple, and peppers. Usually green bell peppers (capsicum) cause they're almost always in stock but jalapenos are also a favourite.

Thanks for the ask! ^^

[askaziraphaleandcrowley]

Olives taste very weird to me, sort of meaty and unpleasantly salty. I don’t know how much of that salt flavor is from the brine.

I like olive oil well enough, but even that has an odd taste to it that I can’t quite describe. When the oil is fresh, it tastes clean and bright, almost the way I’d imagine perfume tasting. It’s hard to put into words. I guess you might even say it’s… ineffable.

(  Anonymous asked: Olives are another one that needs to be more specific. Black olives have a mild, if slightly sour taste. But that allows them to be a good addition to other foods like pizza or pasta. Green olives are a lot stronger in flavor, very tart and sometimes sour. - Though that may be as a result of preserving them in a jar with brine. If you haven’t tried it yet, You may be interested in trying green olives in a martini. 

Anonymous asked: Olives are delicious, in my opinion, but they are another food best paired with something. Feta cheese, or any cheese really, is an ideal pairing. It's hard to describe the taste, really. Salty and tangy, I suppose? I do prefer them pitted so that I don't accidentally bite down on the pit, and of course it's difficult to discreetly spit out the pit afterwards. Also, no jalapeno stuffed olives, please!

splitleveldog asked: Olives are slimy and make my tongue cringe. They work their way through any dish you put them in and saturate it with a bitter, bile-like aftertaste you can't shake. I've never seen somebody eat one on it's own and actually chew the thing. Usually, people just swallow them whole which works well if I'm ever forced to eat one.

fabledshadow asked: Black olives from tins, which I grew up with, are like crack. I will eat them by the handful alone, but here’s your pairing, Aziraphale- crusty bread and salty feta. Yum! )

Aziraphale: Aha, quite a controversial topic indeed, I picked well! I must say, I do agree with our readers that olives are much better when they’re paired with something. Feta is an excellent choice. 

Crowley: Are you actually learning anything from this?

Aziraphale: Why yes, I believe I am actually. This is proving to me that I am tasting things in a similar way to how humans do, and that humans taste things differently anyway and so a bit of variation is entirely expected.

Crowley: Great, so are you done now?

Aziraphale: ... Perhaps just one more. Just... something I’m a little intrigued about. And I know we’ve mentioned it before here, but this seems like the perfect opportunity to just ask... What does pineapple on pizza taste like to you readers? It’s... it’s good, isn’t it?

[solarsought]

Argyle specifically likes pineapple jalapeno pizza. sometimes he’ll add bacon or chicken if he’s feeling the need for some extra protein but usually it’s just pineapple jalepeno with either a bbq or hot sauce on top. asking him his favorite pizza is a multifaceted answer that takes lots of explanation as it is his job and has been his life for a while.

[wellroundedcharacter]

To Kill A Mockingbird and As I Lay Dying. Give me the main lil fairplay group since I'm bad with names (:

To Kill a Mockingbird: Does your OC have any triggers? What?

Persy: Specifically, the smell of hospitals and the texture of jello, being restrained, helplessness Mei: dehumanization, being told ze should have gone back to the woods  People not celebrating zir birthday on the same day as Aster’s, overstimulation Aster:  Being unable to get into contact with at least someone, the smell of skunk cabbage Ty: None known Marques: Hands or other objects being too close to his eyes, blood, having too much information to process

As I Lay Dying: What does your OC put on their pizza?

Persy: Tomato, onion,  mushroom, pepperoni Mei: Meat-lover’s or veggie. there’s very little in-between.  Aster: Alfredo sauce, chicken, spinach, mushroom Ty: Pineapple and sausage Marques:  Pineapple, jalapeno, chicken (or something simple like double pepperoni)

[darkmasterofcupcakes]

Pizza

Baylea: As long as it’s vegetarian, they are happy to eat it when they get the chance. It is also one of their favorite foods to make, since they can be pretty creative in regards to toppings, and it’s just really fun to make. Their favorite part of making pizza is making the dough, particularly the part where they spin it to make the actual pizza shape. Baylea is an expert pizza tosser by the time they’re about fourteen.

Cane: He actually doesn’t really like pizza much in general. He finds it incredibly overrated and will almost never choose to eat it. Even when he does eat pizza, he will only really enjoy it if there is a very specific topping - pineapple. He adores pineapple on pizza…which got quite the reaction from Michelle when he revealed this fact- a combination of pure disgust and astonishment. 

Pearl: Out of all the kids, she is the only one who actually likes anchovies (not only on pizza, but in general), though she rarely actually gets them if anyone else is eating, since she is very much aware of this fact. And even if she knows that at least Michelle will tolerate the anchovies, she does feel bad for getting something that no one else actually likes for a topping. If she’s the only one eating? Then she’ll put as many of the things on as she likes, cause there’s nobody to tell her otherwise. 

Michelle: She loves pizza and will eat almost any topping - though her favorite kind of pizza is spinach and tomato with extra cheese - without any issue…with the major exception of pineapple. If there is any pineapple on the pizza, she will absolutely refuse to eat a single bite, even if the slice she was given had no actual piece of pineapple on it. 

Ari: It’s not her favorite food, but she does like to eat it on occasion. Particularly with toppings like jalapenos and chili pepper flakes sprinkled on it, since she has a love for all things spicy. She once even got Baylea to make her a personal pizza with ghost peppers in the sauce, along with the jalapenos and pepper flakes on the top. It was almost too spicy even for Ari, but she still managed to eat it. 

Nebula: She can’t really eat pizza, since she can’t really eat any kind of actual food in general, but she does like to make it. It is actually one of her favorite things to do with Baylea when they spend time together. She is very good at measuring out ingredients, as well as figuring out the perfect temperature and time to cook the pizza so it comes out perfectly.

[optimisthayes]

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒 .

name : leilani kala hayes nickname : lei, leilei, kala, leila age : 23 species : human.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 .

morality : lawful neutral  religion : no specific label, but believes in god. sins : greed / gluttony / sloth / lust / pride / envy / wrath virtues : chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice known languages : english, hawaiian  secrets :  she uses making people optimistic or happy as a way to avoid facing her own pessimistic thoughts.

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 .

build : scrawny / bony / slender / fit / athletic / curvy / herculean / pudgy / average height : 5 ′ 5 ″ scars / birthmarks : scars basically all over almost every inch of her body in the fog. otherwise, some basic scars on her legs from cuts she received while wiping out during surfing and when she was learning as a child. specific one on her calf from dragging across a rock and cutting it open.  abilities / powers : nothing relatively superhuman? restrictions : anything a human would have?? death???

𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 .

food : her mom’s poke and saiman recipe, pizza, shave ice, bbq pizza topping : pineapple (literally fight me), pepperoni, mushrooms, jalapenos, spinach, etc (not necessarily all at once) color : pink, purple, blue, yellow. music genre : rock music, pop, the occasional edm. if it’s a bop, it’s a bop. movie genre : horror, fantasy, adventure. curse word : SHIT. scents : peppermint, ocean air, strawberry. 

𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐅𝐅 .

top or bottom : a whole bottom sings in the shower : every time likes puns : if u tell her a dad joke she’ll probably hit u

tagged by: stole from a bean @sevenrolled  tagging: @pizzawhct @ssquareup if yall wanna, and literally anyone else

[simmancy]

YES THIS IS MY FAVORITE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Previous editions of “Things that make Kit Happy” are here [I, II, III, IV]

FIVE AND FIVE THINGS THAT MAKE ME A HAPPY KIT, UNDER THIS CUT~

I love when you guys leave me comments on posts or send me asks! It seriously makes my day. My boyfriend honestly just told me earlier that I’ve seemed a lot happier lately, and I really think the community has contributed to that. I love you guys ♥

Pizza with pineapple, bacon and jalapeno on it. Known to Boyfriend and I as “The Moana Pizza” (because we happened to eat it for the first time while watching Moana, easily my favorite new Disney movie)

speaking of Moana, though.... ULTIMATE DAD, LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA. I would lay down my life for LMM. That’s not even an exaggeration. 

Halsey also makes me happy. I admire her so much ♥

I hate the beach but I love looking at the ocean? Especially on cloudy grey days.

*sigh* This is so hyper-specific but I love in musicals where there’s full cast numbers... with overlapping parts that finally sync up together as the orchestra crescendos or stops.... Like. That speaks to me on an emotional level. (I was just listening to “Blackout” from In The Heights-which is why I’m thinking of it)

I’ll still fight everyone: “Look What You Made Me Do” is iconic and one of Taylor’s best singles. “...Ready For It?” is better, ngl, but LWYMMD is so great. It gets better with every listen.

My future-in-laws have a kitten... and he thinks he’s my cat.. He hangs out with me all the time, I love him.

Okay, so my on-the-side hobby that’s not video gaming is collecting/supporting indie makeup and perfume? And it’s autumn so everyone’s releasing their LE autumn collections. SO MUCH PUMPKIN. I get to walk around smelling like pumpkin and coffee and pastries and.... *sigh* I love autumn.

THIS VIDEO of Cullen from Dragon Age: Inquisition, which never fails to cheer me up. I just watched it again now and I’m dying.

[fiinalgiirls]

GENERAL INFORMATION.

full name - lourdes faustina campeon lopez nicknames - faust gender / pronouns - nonbinary. uses she/her and they/them date of birth - november 12, 1998 place of birth - b. san carlos apache reservation, raised in inglewood, california citizenship / ethnicity - american / chiricahua apache and puerto rican  religion - atheist socioeconomic status / political affiliation - working class; radically liberal. marital status - single sexual & romantic orientation - pansexual education / occupation - high school, some college languages - spanish, english

FAMILY INFORMATION.

parents - jaime and maite campeon lopez siblings - francisco campeon lopez offspring - none pets / other - none notable extended family - none

PHYSICAL INFORMATION.

faceclaim - sivan alyra rose hair color / eye color - brown, brown. height / build - 5′3″ / athletic tattoos / piercings - several tattoos, piercings to nose and ears, navel, and nipples distinguishable features - doe eyes, tattoos.

MEDICAL INFORMATION.

medical history - none. known allergies - none. visual impairment / hearing impairment - none. nicotine use / drug use / alcohol use - alcohol and marijuana. occasionally cocaine or molly.

PERSONALITY.

traits - engaging, resilient, analytical ; unrelenting, cynical, ruthless, mercurial tropes - tbd temperament - choleric alignment - chaotic neutral celtic tree zodiac - tba mbti - istp hogwarts house - slytherin vice / virtue - envy / diligence likes / dislikes - crop tops, late night parties, a good subwoofer, semi-automatic weapons /  cruelty to women or animals, country music, paper cuts, church quote - “the first horror is there’s horror. the second is you accommodate it.”

FAVORITES.

food - chinese takeout, specifically bbq pork, egg rolls, and general tso’s drink - beer pizza topping - pepperoni and jalapenos color - baby blue music - hip hop / r&b, dance, synth, new wave books - not much of a reader, but they liked ‘weetzie bat’ when they were in middle school movies - people under the stairs and dope curse word - chingona scents - fresh laundry, pineapple car air freshener

BIOGRAPHY,

trigger/content warnings: homophobia, implied racism, sex trafficking, violence, death

▓ ▌now playing :: hypnotize – notorious b.i.g.

when lourdes is eight years old, she learns that all names have meanings. elated to have something that sets her apart from the ‘jessicas’ and ‘ashleys’ of her grade, the sting of being othered isn’t lost upon her. with a skip in her step, she hugs her books close to her chest and grins the whole way home. when they meet their mother, maite lopez in the yard, tending to her tomatoes, they ask her what her name means. it takes a great deal of elementary self control not to roll her eyes as she sees the reverence on her mother’s face when she speaks of la virgen maría. lourdes is disappointed to be named for a mother in a world where the mother is rarely elevated as holy. maite is framed with tomatoes–not roses or filigree-but she doesn’t let bad things happen; she gets shit done. lourdes thinks that maybe her mother is a better santa maría than some woman that occasionally appears in her dreams with a blue cloak made of stars. celestial beings are made of stars; they sit in the heavens looking beautiful while the world cries its wishes from below. celestial beings are like stars, because wishes don’t come true.

smart girls make their own dreams come true and lourdes is a smart girl. she’s good in her classes, enjoys music–lying on her back in her bunk bed that she shares with her sister and a younger cousin, she lets her body sink into the mattress. god, who doesn’t love a beat. lourdes is thirteen when their brother francisco joins the army and her memories of the san carlos reservation she was born on have almost completely faded. maite and jaime remember well. they provide well enough for their family, but each child has to earn their own way in the world; it costs just to exist in it. francisco figures he will be the first in the family to go to college. he doesn’t expect to be the only one.

in high school, lourdes spends all of their free time at concerts, clubs or with their ears engulfed by what jaime teases as mickey mouse headphones. they buy their first record player and ignore the mundane homework they’re sent home in lieu of hunting down records and mixing beats. maddisyn pratt, the simpering sycophantic girl lourdes likens to the blonde in the craft, begins to outshine the campeon lopez front runner for valedictorian and lourdes is too lost in a sea of daydreams, beats and hooks to care. the criteria for the princeton scholarship they had hung their future on falls out of reach and into the hands of a girl whose name means ‘son of maud’–it’s even worse than lourdes’ and they turns their nose up at it.

graduation day lacks its intended charms and a girl who’d lived her whole life being told she was destined for great things feels the weight of failure. jaime and maite bring red and yellow roses to the ceremony. they scream in the stands and bring noisemakers; they are a charming embarrassment. just the right level of ‘too much.’ for one day, no one talks to her about college or work or the future. they celebrate with tres leches and she falls asleep on the couch with a sweet taste humming on her tongue, headphones up full blast.

the daydream dies. college might not be an option, but lourdes is expected to pull her own weight. she floats from waitressing job to barista job to receptionist, but nothing really sticks. lourdes’ tapping feet are restless and they carry her from tedium to tedium. there is nothing that satiates her hunger. it doesn’t take long for her to figure out that college would not have served to fill the void either; the only thing that makes a difference is the music.

▓ ▌now playing :: atomic – blondie

noemi luna is a sweet uwla school of business co-ed with long dark hair and stars in her eyes. when lourdes meets her at the music festival, hair braided around roses, they realize that maybe this woman really could give birth to gods. the pair stay up talking and sharing songs until the sun comes up. lourdes believes in dreams again. noemi is stardust and iron. they make a pact with themself to memorize everything noemi loves: seafood, fruit smoothies, the soft feel of worn denim, sand between her toes, and the sensation of long nails combing through her soft, dark hair. lourdes loves exactly two things: sensation of nothingness they feels before slipping off to sleep to a dope track and noemi. it’s a much shorter list.

at noemi’s encouragement, lourdes reinvents herself; she is so much more than a drink slinger in some weak club where girls get in free to offset the gender binary and the skewed ratio found therein. lourdes mixes tracks; changes names. they were never worthy of such a title and they grin easily when noemi suggests ‘faust’ to her instead; lourdes is sick of being someone’s virgin and they are no one’s mother. maite loves to see the spark in their daughter’s heart again and doesn’t bat an eye at all the time the girls spend together. not until nearly two years later when faust’s reputation as dj placentagram keeps her out all night and she finds that her daughter and noemi seem to have a more and more difficult time keeping their hands off one another. maybe it’s just a phase; lourdes has always been such a good girl.

maite’s worst fears are confirmed when her daughter announces the seriousness of their relationship–the intent of marriage–on a warm, autumn thanksgiving afternoon before the pies are even sliced. they remain untouched for two days while faust packs their things with bleary eyes and clenched fists, making crimson crescents on her palms in the places where they’ve lost an acrylic nail. it took too much on faith to think that since their parents could accept her music that they could accept noemi too. jaime shrugs his shoulders after kissing his daughter goodbye with the weak defense of ‘... your mother.’ faust grimaces and spits back ‘a mí, plín.’

noemi and faust aren’t ready to get their own place, but fate forces their hands. with a bank account barely above the red, faust stores their stuff in her car and sleeps in noemi’s dorm room. the gaudy purchase of barely legal tinted windows proves more useful than frivolous. dj placentagram attracts a modest local audience and she makes enough, but the constant late nights and stress of a move take their toll. noemi loses her scholarship when her grades slip. her parents are supportive, but they don’t have the kind of cash to cover tuition. it’s time for her to find a job and since she has to wait until fall rolls around to repeat the semester, she’s got a lot of free time.

the job market is rough. noemi has no experience short of an ‘in progress’ underneath her education section. the entirety of her resume gushes with inexperience. the unemployment office is a crapshoot and most days are spent lounging in sweats, cruising craigslist for job offers. faust takes care of the bills in the meantime, but it’s nowhere near enough to save for tuition. they move out of the dorms with her salary, find a pretty good apartment too. one morning after a big event, faust finds a small, windblown cat by the trashcans. she is the color of smoke and soot; the couple name her belial, clean her up, and initiate her into the family. the apartment begins to feel like home.

▓ ▌now playing :: i’ve been thinking – handsome boy modeling school feat. cat power

faust beams at noemi over the somber reminder of her mother on the coffee table. it’s a cold, november day and the family pozole recipe steams up noemi’s glasses as she lists off her craigslist prospects for the day. she’s particularly excited about a position at a salon that boasts she’ll be making $400 a day after being trained. faust jokes that anything’s better than another fake modeling gig and noemi agrees. she sets up a meeting for later that week.

the details of the meeting are lost on faust. things that matter? noemi has a smile on her face when she comes back, flashing fresh pressies and the tentative explanation that the wages are tips only. she tacks on quickly that most of the girls say they pull in plenty to live off of with that. several of them are single moms and noemi swears that they were all wearing designer jeans, rocking fresh manicures, and boasted of the job seeming more like a family than anything else. in hindsight, faust can recall every red flag no matter how small. they should have known better. besides, they remember noemi reassuring them, it’s like super safe. she’d seen some guys working security in there and some of the girls even live in the condos above the place. maybe there’s a hint of willful desperation in her girlfriend’s voice; faust knows she’s tired of struggling and if it turns out a mess, it’s only until the semester starts back again in the fall.

the edges of the dream begin to chip, but are hardly noticeable at first. like noemi’s manicures, the woman gets good at filling in spaces. faust’s following becomes a bit more substantial. sometimes they make it out of inglewood to spin records. it takes her away from home more than she’d like, but she doesn’t notice the difference until they starts returning to an untouched bed, a hungry kitten, and a house that smells cold.

noemi is evasive, distant. the stars in her eyes have gone dim; there’s a fog that obscures them. an occasional cold night alone becomes a string, a constellation. on the surface, faust bubbles. they are wrath and it comes out in their music; people fell in love with them for the fire, but destruction turns those very people away. fear makes a hearty tinder. noemi doesn’t pick up her calls; noemi’s number gets disconnected. the fear grows, fertilized by volcanic ash. faust makes better fires.

▓ ▌now playing :: hail mary – 2pac

francisco is back from his tours and he’s strong and loved by her parents outloud ( unlike the infrequent texts of check-ins papa sends here, afraid of their mother’s wrath more than faust’s ). after faust goes the the address on the fridge and finds no trace of a salon, they arrive on his doorstep with a cat carrier in their hands and the request for a gun. soldiers always have guns and big brothers like francisco never learned to say no to a lip pout and a crocodile tear. faust still sees him as the boy who cried at the fox and the hound; he is the man who facilitates her deal with the devil. he teaches them the ins and outs of the sig sauer p226. he doesn’t ask them what they’re doing when he helps them file the serial number; he’s noted noemi’s absence.

heart in her throat, she’s almost choking to the beat of her own pulse. the sound of paper burning goes unnoticed, beneath the car stereo as she smokes to calm her nerves. i ain’t a killer, but don’t push me, she agrees, revenge is like the sweetest joy next to gettin’ pussy. her hands shake against the steering wheel as she drives the streets searching for noemi. she’d know her anywhere, but the shock of her appearance makes the track skip a beat ( or maybe it’s just her heart as she holds her breath ). she lets the engine purr to life and hangs back for a few blocks until she finds her girl’s destination and takes a mental note of the address. the patches on the leather vests are burned into her mind. she’ll be back several times before she makes her move; each time she’ll lose her dinner in the same parking lot on her way back to their apartment. each night she’ll fall asleep alone. at least for now, belial is better off with her brother.

after days of staking out the property, faust in convinced that noemi resides there permanently. for the first time in her life, faust prayed to the virgin mary. she prayed to the stars in the sky. she prayed to the devil. if nothing else, she hoped she could at least make it out with noemi alive. it’s easy to take out the first men. with her slinky slip dress, fishnet tights and combat boots, they think it’s a gag–she’s a new girl or something. women are commoditized; their agency is robbed of them. male hubris blinds them from the consideration that the beautiful woman might actually be serious. the realization burrs itself into their heads in the shape of a bullet. twice. after the first two, it’s easy. it’s like playing call of duty with francisco and she pushes the stark depravity of the easiness deep inside herself. if she is to save noemi, she has to let go of human decency. her mother’s voice tells her not to stoop to their level, but it’s precisely the level she needs to be a hero and faust doesn’t give a shit about being a hero. she gives a shit about getting her girlfriend back.

when she comes upon noemi, she is shocked by her appearance. the warm, shining girl is dull and timid. she lowers her guard and gun, speaking softly to traces of the woman she loved. distracted, faust is tackled by one of the girls who busts her nose with a mean right hook. something sparks within noemi and she clocks the girl over the head with faust’s estranged glock. the two depart on shaky legs to the car and drive to the beach where they watch the sun rise together; shoulders barely touching, feet buried beneath the sand. faust does not make a move to touch her despite her greater urges to wrap her arms so tightly around her that she’d leave impressions in her skin like those left behind by bras and tights and too-tight socks.

▓ ▌now playing :: you’re so cool – hans zimmer

reunited at least, noemi tells faust the truth about her dehumanizing work with delicate fingers shakily wrapped around a mug of hot tea. she flinches at the gentlest touch and faust knows their relationship will never be the same. noemi will never be the same. her nails are still pristine, but the hands they belong to are weathered; she has been through hell. whatever money she earned, it was not hers and it never reached her belly. they spend the next several months healing. maite makes them meals and sends them to the house with francisco and jaime connects with noemi’s parents to pay their bills . no one asks or prods. no one hovers or pushes or smothers–least of all faust, who stays up late nights with a gun in her hand, gaze hard on the locked apartment door. they don’t even see the murders on the news; neither girl knows what that means.

when noemi slowly begins to leave the apartment and build her confidence, faust is proud. it’s a slow process, but eventually she is able to function on most days. she goes to therapy, but never gets into specifics. she still screams in her sleep most nights, but she lets faust hold her close. dj placentagram returns to her work, but her following has taken a hit. still, it feels good to make her own money again.

▓ ▌now playing :: six inch – beyonce feat. the weekend

on one bright day, noemi tells her of running into an old friend–one of the girls who didn’t make it out that dark night. they are both unsurprised that the girls they’d left behind were still suffering. it makes her blood boil and she can see an old flicker in noemi’s eyes. faust recognizes it in her–the need for blood to fill old wounds–a baptism in vengeance. they make a new trip to francisco’s friend; they make a deal for more guns. noemi has her revenge with faust close at her side. the two of them earn a reputation for the second set of executions and they realize that there is a lot of trash worth taking out.

crime doesn’t pay; but vigilantism sure does. the girls make a mint turning over the more nefarious characters in the city. they don’t hit up small time dealers. blood runs down hill just like shit; they cut the heads of serpents and leave the scales alone. it starts to get dangerous for the girls; people know las sirenas. people prepare for these stunning shooters who rob the robbers. they’re no saints and they don’t play at sainthood. faust knows they are devils, but evil is stronger than neutrality and she never thought too much of moral fiber.

nobody asks the girls how they support themselves; both families know they’ve been through hell and back. things are broken inside and between them, but broken things still work if you can find a new function for them. families can still work–relationships can still work–if you turn them into something new. they are baptised in blood; their wishing stars are diamond studs in earlobes. some days they hold hands like the old days, but things are still broken–they are still new.

violence can change a person. noemi finds her vengeance, but faust can’t stop. what once bound them, now divides them, and noemi finds herself back in school. their lifestyles no longer compatible, the two grow apart, but there is no love lost. still, the time between reunions grows and grows until noemi has found love again and faust has given up turntables for contracts on heads.

[morty-in-crisis-blog]

@mercenarymorty

G doesn’t know how to cook...at all. But his stomach is turning a bit too much for all of that activity anyway, so it’s fine.

He ordered in.

Pizza specifically, which has, weirdly, proven to be one of the only things that doesn’t make him sick. He’d say it’s all the bread except he only orders thin crust with cheese, and jalapenos.

For Merc though, who should be home soon, he ordered a pineapple pizza and some cinnamon sticks. And so he sits, half dozing on the couch, chewing on some ice while he waits for Merc to finally show up.

[halsteadproperty]

10 + 1 New Reasons to Buy in Williamsburg, Brooklyn

By Kleopatra Phili, Lic. R.E. Salesperson in our Westside Office

Hi there!  The last time I sent you my Top Ten Reasons to Buy in Williamsburg, I did it the old-fashioned way. I ran around like Forrest Gump with my friend Niko, on the hunt for the best finds.  Fast forward to spring 2017, and I’m giving you 10 + 1 NEW reasons, courtesy of the Aces (i.e. night planners) at idk.

1. Buffalo Exchange If you love thrift shopping — or you know, just plain old retail therapy — Buffalo Exchange is a smorgasbord of new and used clothing, neatly organized in one colorful space. Whether you're on the hunt for vintage threads or in search of a one-of-a-kind piece from a Brooklyn-based designer, this is where you want to be.

2. Brooklyn Bowl Bowling and rock and roll. Literally — the stage is set up next to the lanes. Right upstairs is some of the best fried chicken in all five boroughs, courtesy of Blue Ribbon, and come back in the fall — BB's annual Halloween bash is extraordinarily exciting.

3. Videology Bar & Cinema Is it a bar or a mini movie theater? It's hard to know, but what I do know is that it's hosting some of the best themed nights in town — think a screening of Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette alongside Ladurée macarons.

4. Book Thug Nation I’m just going to say it: BTN's selection of used fiction books might just rival The Strand's. Just like Strand, BTN also buys used books. But this shop also acts as a community space, so there are plenty of author readings, movie screenings and town meetings to choose from, not to mention nights just for the kids.

5. Wild Ginger Pan-Asian vegan cuisine served in a cozy restaurant where leather booths and traditional blue-accented bowls line the walls. Order the tofu teriyaki with a mint iced tea.

6. Crif Dogs If you're all about the meat, Crif Dogs takes The Dog, a true NYC staple, and levels it up with the most ridiculous spread of topping options, including Taylor ham, avocado, pineapple, jalapeno and diced cucumbers. They also have fries, shakes, floats and beer, if you're feeling decadent.

7. Fornino If you're living in New York, then you need excellent pizza. Meet Fornino, where three generations of pizza are on the table. The first, Naples, offers variations on your traditional Margherita; the second, Italy, branches out with rustic and Sicilian accents; and the third, Fornino, brings it into the 21st century with white truffle oil, fennel sausage and caramelized onion.

8. Nitehawk Cinema The iPic may be bringing the concept of dinner with your movie to Manhattan, but in NYC, Nitehawk was the original — and frankly, offers much more. In addition to the healthy mix of blockbusters and indies, Nitehawk also does concept nights. Coming up? The Country Brunchin' series, which includes local country music before a viewing of Three Amigos, all while eating classic Southern fare.

9. Heatonist Heatonist sells hot sauce — and only hot sauce. Specifically, 23 brands of the best hot sauce known to man and woman. Need we say more?

10. MatchaBar As the leader of the matcha-addicted, I have found my headquarters at MatchaBar, where you can get a bottle of the good green stuff accented with honey, mint or apples and ginger.

11. Union Pool For when you can't make it out East (or want to avoid the hours of traffic), Union Pool features local acts in a summer-minded setting with serious Montauk vibes. Take me to the beach, please!

So now you are convinced that you should buy in Williamsburg, but you’re wondering how you would commute to Manhattan to make the money, when the L train is temporarily out of service in 2019?  Don’t worry about that.  Live for today.  Or, take heart in knowing that the MTA is making plans to accommodate displaced riders during a full tunnel closure to make repairs to the L. For example, extra service on nearby M, J and G lines, faster Select Bus Service routes across 14th, 23rd and 34th Streets and a new ferry landing at 20th St. for service from N. 7th St. in Williamsburg.

Kleopatra Phili is a service-oriented, determined and hardworking agent, with deep local knowledge of the New York market and an international perspective on real estate.  Kleo is experienced with assisting both domestic and international buyers.  If you have any questions, please reach out to Kleo via email or telephone/text at +1-973-610-7805.

[toddlazarski]

Pastor As Political Act

Shepherd Express

What can the pastor taco teach us about unity? About co-existence? About America in the hostility-bred division of our country’s supposed ideals and where we’re headed? That paradigm of pork, the litmus test of any self-respecting taqueria, a shredded, seasoned shard of salsa-drizzled pig perfection inside mankind’s greatest meat delivery system. It’s lunch. And surely no lesson, no greater schooling lives within the meaty folds to show us how to be better human beings.

But consider the history of the taco al pastor, or ‘shepherd’s taco. As the Ottoman Empire crumbled in the late 19th century, waves of Middle Easterners set out for sunnier pastures, many settling in Mexico, bringing with them their perfected spit-roasted meat methods. There was the Turkish doner kebab, the Greek ‘gyro.’ But it was the Lebanese, specifically, settling around Puebla and other Central Mexican towns, that started slinging shawarma. Their lamb preference eventually yielded to the more native pork, their Arabic bread eventually gave way to tortillas, the spice mix slowly turned toward a Mexican chile marinade heavy on achiote or adobo deep with smokiness. But at the heart of it all was the never-changing cooking method - the spinning top, the “trompo”, the Hammond B3 organ of the culinary world, the pig-pivoting beacon, the pedestal behind which every great taquero presents, slicing from the top and theatrically snagging falling meat in a tortilla. This vertical spit turns eternally, fat and meat juice dripping down the meat stack, basting while crisping, bathing while firing. To boot, somebody somewhere along the line, in an act lost to history, thought to add a pineapple to the fray, perching a wedge atop the meat, where it drizzles acidity and a certain tropical otherness.      

So there you have it, in a nutshell, or rather, in a warmed corn shell: acceptance, embrace, adaptation, synergy, assimilation, a bit of mystery, and  pork - cooking slow, then cascading with every order toward a carb holder and utter satisfaction. A delicious reminder of how we’re better as one, how we’re not so different, how multicultural meat-firing methods provide the actual spice of life. An already great culinary people welcoming another, becoming even more tremendous in the process.

But when you go and elect a living, breathing Comments Section to lead a nation, to put little man hands all over the wooden spoon stirring our melting pot, it might soon become easy to forget. To lose our values and cultural calorie concerns. To become distracted, scared. It’s more important now than ever, to remember: One can prod and meddle, they can change our immigration policies, but they can't take our appetites. And anyway, we all only have so many choices, control, over so few things in this world. It’s best to make each taco, each taco transaction count.  

5. Cielito Lindo

Part of the fun of the Walker’s Point mainstay is the inconsistency. Sometimes the pasty tomato table salsa is a bit bland, sometimes just-right salty, sometimes the squirt tube sauce is surprisingly spicy, and sometimes you need the green Yucateco helpfully situated on every table. And the same applies to the meat - which is why the best way to appreciate a lunch plate of pastor is to order ‘extra crispy’, or ‘crujiente’ if you want to impress the waitress. From there you can build your own tacos from the little mound of meat. The crispy-tender-grease trifecta comes through in near every sliced scrap: flattop blackened outside, dark red hue of strong seasoning, blood-like grease drippage out the end of the tortilla. And there in the back of the tongue, just a quiet quaff of pineapple.  

Of course mid-bite flavor contemplation is about time, as it often feels today, to face another of those “this is our world” moments: This pastor isn’t from a trompo. In fact, most joints don’t have a trompo - the electric often don’t get hot enough and the gas are expensive to maintain. There’s also the whole health code hoop such a contraption entails. And such is life and the act of rolling with the punches, seasoning your pork just so, crisping enough on the flattop, lovingly approaching the ideal like you might copy grandma’s recipe when she never wrote anything down. Here they make a baseline pastor, a very solid status quo.

And somehow, this all feels beside the point. Cielito is a colorful, late-hour spot, containing the last vestiges of a condo-spewing neighborhood’s barrio-dom, and the friendliest waitresses in town. For this alone every meal here can be seen as a statement, an act of arms-open, peaceful defiance. With a savory side of pork . Which is how we prefer our social commentary.    

4. Al Pastor

Read a travel piece on Mexico City and you might think the sprawling burg’s streets are paved with pork. Tales are endless of street trompos and gourmet spit takes and Bourdain-approved haunts in pastor’s most natural and native urban setting. West Allis is certainly a ways from the largest metropolitan area in the Western Hemisphere. But the husband and wife team Ricardo Morales and Gudelia Calva bring some of their hometown to a quiet patch of Burnham Street, Calva asserting, assuring us, these are “as close to that taste as possible.” Who are we to argue? Especially with such a smoky spicy meat mouthful.    

These are indeed bigger, floppier tacos, with more noticeably griddled homemade tortillas and more room to fold in the edges so there’s little cubed meat fallout. Said pastor embodies the marinated pork approach, with chipotles and adobo running greasy smoke screens about the tongue, something spicy underneath, it all coalescing into a deep, dark finish, a soulful and earthy profile. Everything can be brightened up with the creamy jalapeno mix or fresh chopped tomato-onion-cilantro bowl that comes with the table chips. And, of course, properly, that big honking heap of pineapple. Here our waitress was careful to make sure we wanted the fruit included, underlining what many American’s might get confused with the likes of the goofy hodgepodgery that is a Hawaiian style pizza. Instead, pork plus pine is about a contrast, a balance - the high falutin foodie fare of the blog and small plate world. But, no matter what, pastor is most itself as a sort of street snack. And here is a defining characteristic of what makes Mexican food the height of culinary achievement - it exists in a place that is endlessly complex, elaborate, and is still always of the people.      

Calva did profess hopes for a real trompo one day, while looking dreamily into the distance like recalling a long gone family member, a previous world. Which is part of what makes eating here an act of dream support. And not just for the proprietors.

3. Los Gallos

With two taquerias plus an El Rey on one side, the Puerto Rican flag-flying Borincana on the other, and the seafood specializing El Local around the corner, one might need an insider tip to properly negotiate the roughhewn grilled meat streets around 13th and Burnham. Luckily, we found such  a scoop from our waitress on this list’s #1 spot. In an act of  non-competitive, communal teamwork, she led us to to this bright-lit sliver, a tiny Mexican version of a greasy spoon, and the first on our list to proudly present a trompo - prominent, visible and warmly calling even a on a quick  pass by. At least for those of us who equate the term ‘window shopping’ with such pork porn.   

Inside is a family affair, the big man behind the counter dictating proceedings with his metal spatulas, every guy walking through the door greeted as a jovial “jefe,” his kids scampering about and learning the trade in the meantime, busing and watching his inspired grill work, taking orders and delivering salsas, deferring to their stoic patriarch who never seems to take his eyes from the ever-sizzling meat. The whole thing feels a bit like a Norman Rockwell take of the 2016 south side of Milwaukee, a beautiful caricature of the American dream.

Back in the tactile world, the counter spots are the best, where you can sit arm’s length from the spinning pork - pineapple on the bottom, onion on the top, the boss slicing and dicing and making everything right, roasting pig smell steaming through the air. Chorizo may actually be the real star here, red and black, crumbly, equal parts crisp and greasy, but that synthesis between Portuguese and Spanish and Mexican is for a different article. And the pastor  is certainly pilgrimage-worthy in itself: with an extra crispy finish, each bite ends in bacon-like satisfaction. There is diced pineapple, and a spicy marinade, leaving each steaming morsel saucy and zesty enough on it’s own, there being almost no need for the chipotle salsa. But it is there, along with it’s jalapeno brother. Easy to overlook, yet holding everything together. Such is the restaurant itself, existing on the fringes of most city folks’ reality, somehow warmer and better than the spots everybody takes the time to write or rave or Yelp about. “How Many For You” the tiny spot’s banner exclaims, curiously sans question mark. And that somehow seems to say nothing and everything at once.               

2.  El Comedor

Based on the somewhat rote asada, weakish table salsa, and cheap seeming chips, it’d be easy to chock this spot up as an also-ran on any Milwaukee Mexican food list. But if you’re lucky enough to be catching the MCTS 23 line at National and 11th, you might have a few extra seconds to note the painted signage on the side of El Comedor: a beautiful brown beacon, still, but seemingly primed for a spin move, a slab of stacked meat, colorfully warming and readying for its afterlife’s work next to a soft orange glow.   

It’s an inspired, enticing likeness. Yet inside the trompo itself is hidden back behind the scenes, out of sight behind the counter and the  tortilla maker. So eaters are left amidst the high ceiling and cream city brick and dubbed-to-Spanish “Deadliest Catch” to mindlessly chomp chips and fumble through the minimal English order process like it was any other weekday taqueria lunch.But then there they are: double corn tortillas, filled fully, lovingly, steaming, tiny salty pork pieces with a slightly saucy finish and beginning of a black char. They are presented with pride, onion lending a crisp, bountiful cilantro making it gardeny, lime punching everything to life along with tiny bursting bits of chopped pineapple. There’s minimal grease to the evenly brown bits, and a depth of character from the low and slow methodology of the trompo that makes one think maybe all those barbecue nerds are indeed onto something. It’s then you might realize the table salsa was but part of  a routine, because with plate delivery there come two new bottles, one fresh and green, one red peppery and piquant and adobe-tinged. And with each spicy, smoky bite you might begin to wonder. What else have they got back there? How many times have I passed this spot without a second thought? Just how many places and pleasures are we all missing in Milwaukee when we settle on Conejitos, again?

1. Los Gemelos

Upon hearing we were here for the trompo, upon informing us the trompo wasn’t in service today, upon realizing we would be leaving to try again, another time, the waitress stopped us with her hands: “No, no I’m going to make you one. It’s just as good. You’ll see.” This was leveled with that kind of grandmotherly insistence, where she informs you you need to eat, and there’s no suggestion about it, even less hope of successful protest. Over our gratis saucy pork sample, we became befuddled. Where else in today’s epoch of mean meme’s and Facebook reality bubbles, in an era of haughty approaches to privileged-people food, might we experience such downhome, unwarranted inclusiveness?   

In the end, she wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t exactly right either. The next day’s trompo pastor  was different - fleshy, pink and red toward the edges, drier and crisper and saltier, with hints of something vaguely Middle Eastern, underscoring the roots, separating it from everywhere else in town. It was indicative of a rather rare Mexican food feature: a unique menu, with the likes of  alambres, gringas, campechanos (we don’t know either). Then there was the shockingly non-greasy chorizo, and a beautifully rendered, tender and moist arrachera - a cut so often reeking of ordinary among so many taquerias. And really, you could put overcooked, two-day-old Thanksgiving turkey on these tortillas and find satisfaction, given the quintessential tag teamery of the salsas. There’s the red hot habanero emulsification, full of zing and slightly smoky depth, alongside a vastly cooling, creamy jalapeno-avocado number. It’s simply the best salsa duo in town, the Giannis-Jabari of table sauces.   

In its nondescript home on Mitchell and 11th, with a low slung ceiling, carpeting, cooler of beer and dated TVs, it has the feel of your friend’s basement that is in a perpetual state of half-finished. If your friend has a hidden away trompo, that he fires up, “maybe once a week,” as the proprietor informed us, coming out to ask how we found out about his joint, smiling proudly that we even knew where his home state of Oaxaca was.   

Trying for a word of Spanish or two, waiting for our order of salsa to go, it was nice to feel connected, to close our Facebook app for a second and to actually remember again that we’re all in this together. To remember it’s still possible, with the right mindset, to get lost, to again be found in our own city. To get outside normalcy and our favorite joints and the whatever-ness of mainstream spots like Corazon. To explore geography and culture, to build bridges and not walls, to help each other along on this journey. Because every big tip is an act of community, and every Mexican-owned business order is an act of quiet opposition. And besides, tacos always trump all, the hate and suspicion and the philosophical quandaries that are veiled as “political activity.” And we assured him of our pleasure, and that we’d be back. Because we're all in this together. And we're certainly not just talking about lunch.