I'm in love with Anthony Bourdain. There. I said it.
If I were cultured and shit, I think I would be a food critic. And since Matty stole my blog post idea about bragging about how awesome we are for
winning a ENCY award, I'm going to write a culinary review about the snacks that people leave in the UCBTLA office overnight.
To my right, someone left a container of Blue Diamond Natural Oven Roasted Almonds that are flavored with cinnamon brown sugar. I get the concept, but it tastes too much like breakfast. If I get light-headed later, I may take one more. However, snacks should be snacks and breakfast should be breakfast.
Behind my computer, someone left a bag of Boulder Canyon spinach and artichoke flavored potato chips. Well, they left an empty bag of said potato chips. There are still some crumbs in it, so I can only base my opinions on said crumbs. Two words: "Fucking Delicious." Six words: "Oh wait. That was my finger."
Next to the phone, there's a bottle of Advil Tablets. I personally like to call them Ibuprofen Lady-Fingers but whatever. They can hold me over until lunch.
In front of the printer/fax/copier, there's a blue plastic cup with water in it. It had a horrible follow-through but pretty decent after-taste.
Finally, next to the file cabinet is an enormous box of Sun-maid Raisins. I hate raisins. That, I didn't even taste. Fuck raisins. It's like eating old people or your brother's green army soldiers that your dog chewed on. Seriously, fuck raisins. Fuck them. I can't even begin to write about how intensely I wish raisins would go fuck themselves.
I guess this is why I can't be a real food critic.
Hey, if you're in LA tomorrow night at midnight, you should check out
Sketch Cram. Matty and I are writing for it, and then, at the end of the night, we're going to punch each other in the face. Don't miss it.
Check out this video from last month's sketch cram.
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