The Schoolyear of Scott

I’m heading up to New York for a few days so I won’t be updating the blog until I return, but I’m sure there will some great stories when I do!

Prediction: Cardinals 30, Steelers 28

I love eating meat.  Actually, I love eating, period, but meat is at the top of things that I love to eat.  Give me the 24 oz. Bone-In Ribeye at The Palm any day of the week (seriously, give it to me as I am too unemployed right now to afford one myself) and I am a happy man.  Throw a serious helping of horseradish on that steak and I’m even happier.

Up until a few weeks ago I would have considered myself a Shameless Carnivore but since then, I have read the work of a man who has quickly become one of my heroes.  His book, The Shameless Carnivore: A Manifesto for Meat Lovers, has changed my way of thinking about eating meat.

The Shameless Carnivore

That man’s name, is Scott Gold

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I used to donate blood all the time in college. Every six weeks, or whatever the length of time they would make you wait between givings, if I remembered, I would donate. In fact, one time, I even donated Platelets, which, if you’ve never done so before, is a one hour procedure that, I can only assume, feels like doing heroin (there were a lot of commas in that sentence, sorry). After I graduated, for whatever reason, I stopped donating. I decided, in honor of Barack Obama, I would go and donate this afternoon.

If by "together", you mean me and you minus me, then I would agree

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Kind of cheesy, but this song has been in my head this morning, so I youtube it and this video comes up. Enjoy…

I have a lot of free time on my hands.  There really isn’t much to do during the day, while everyone is at either work or school, other than go to the gym and do the occasional errand, like go to the dry cleaners or post office.  Being that my days in Atlanta are numbered, I recently decided that I should be going to all of the restaurants that I haven’t had the chance to go to in my nearly seven years living here.  I figured here is as good of a place as any to provide you, my faithful reader, with some reviews.

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I have a love/hate relationship with IKEA.  Actually, its more like a eh/despise relationship.  When I was little, I remember going to IKEA with my parents (at Potomac Mills Mall…what a drive that was!) and they would put me in the ball-pit while they shopped.  Obviously, the trauma has not worn off.

Nearly all of my apartment is furnished by IKEA, so I can’t 100% hate on it, but out of the 10 or so pieces that I have from the store, only three are still in perfect working order.  Now, I admit, I am somewhat to blame for these pieces falling apart: the majority of my IKEA construction took place the day after I graduated from Emory and I was basically operating on no sleep.  The majority of the blame, though, falls on one person, and what a tool (pun!) this guy has turned out to be.

The blame falls on the IKEA Man.

IKEA Man is Confused...Join the F'n Club!

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I have a confession to make.  I’m about to come clean (pun!) on something that I have hidden from many people for a while.

I have a maid.

Not only do I have a maid, but I have a man maid.

My Man Maid

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