Previous Posts - Life’s Little Pleasures

Approaches To Garbage Can Placement



There are two types of people in this world — those who hide their garbage can in a cabinet beneath the sink and those who display the garbage can separately.  It’s the centuries-old debate of Garbage In vs. Garbage Out.  We are not necessarily advocating for one lifestyle over the other.   But, personally, I’d like to be able to scrape beef stroganoff vertically downward, directly into the garbage from my plate.

Now you — person who hides his garbage under the sink — tell me what you’re going to do with all that saucy debris after polishing off a juicy plate of Grandma’s beef stroganoff and brothy egg noodles (or perhaps rice-and-bean enchiladas, as pictured above).  Believe me, I’ve tried the hover-the-plate-over-the-garbage-and-use-a-paper-towel-to-forcefully-smear-the-leftovers-directly-downward-into-the-garbage technique.  But all it takes is one poorly-placed greasy wipe, and suddenly, there’s stroganoff meat with gooey mushroom bisque all over your Windex bottle, 409 All-Purpose Cleaner, dishwasher detergent nuggets, and other under-the-sink items.  (Not to mention the inevitable skidmarks down the side of the garbage can.)  A viscous beef-and-mushroom onslaught, all due to some poorly placed diagonal strokes.

So just remember, when you think you’re being all classy and hiding your garbage, let me tell you something, Noam – it’s not any less disgusting.  In fact, it’s arguably more disgusting.


Cocktail Houring Like A Champion

ditching food at cocktail hour

She waits patiently in the periphery, carefully examining each potential landing spot for her food garbage.

She’s moving in.

“Don’t mind me — I’m just going to discard a few of my freshly-chewed lamb chop bones on this here tablecloth,” thought Gloria, as she delicately placed down another partially-eaten bone on the table, making it a clean half-dozen.

But now what—does she just walk away casually? Say nothing? Maybe she should just own it. You know, be very much up-front with the folks at that table, telling them straight that she’s just there to unload six loose lamb chop bones.

Let’s be real, though… we’ve all done it. I did it at my Uncle Charlie’s. Walked right up to a man and boldly placed my pesto-stained plate with a staggering pile of shrimp tails right next to his rum-and-diet while he was mid-conversation. Then I went back to business. Got me some cold motherfuckin’ sesame noodles.

Special thanks to Slurz & Adam for this lambchop selfie.


That’s So Meta…


Meta-labeling… Redundant?  Perhaps.  Necessary?  Absolutely.  Really?  No.




The Most Amusing Thing I‘ve Seen All Day. Period.

I don’t even know what to say, really.  Just your standard tampon-in-the-street sighting.  So peaceful, so alone, so powerful.

“Excuse me, ma’am.  Did you drop this?”


Life’s Little Pleasures: Enjoying a Burp

Most human burps have a foul, warm, tomatoey tang to them.  Sometimes, they even burn the throat a little bit on their way out – an overall unpleasant ordeal.  Yet, on very rare occasion, I can get into a burp; you know, actually enjoy it.  A beautiful, gassy, fading memory of a recent meal, waiting to be belched onto my taste buds for the next 30-45 minutes.  Prior to yesterday, the last time I experienced this phenomenon was March of the year 2010, after a generous helping of hummus with pine nuts.

Pine nut hummus is a traditionally delicious food, so I guess, logically, it makes sense that post-hummus belches can be enjoyable.  Yesterday, though, a brussel sprouts burp took me by surprise.  I know, right?  Of all the foods in the world, I never imagined that brussel sprouts could possibly create a pleasant burp-taste.  But it did.  I’m not kidding.


Special Thanks To Ali & Ido for whipping up those exquisite sprouts.

Life’s Little Pleasures: Watching The Change Add Up


There’s something oddly satisfying about watching small change slowly but surely add up to the desired amount on a vending machine’s digital display.  Just dropping in a bunch of nickels and dimes that somehow magically add up to the $1.50 that I need for my Vitamin Water.  $1.35… $1.40… $1.45… $1.50!!!  Absolutely captivating.

I mean, it takes a whole bunch of small change to make a dollar-fifty.  Since there is no mathematical way to figure out exactly how many nickels it takes, let’s just say it takes, I don’t know, 100 nickels to make $1.50.  Wait, is that right?  Yeah, that’s right.  One hundred.  That’s a lot of nickels.

And I want to be clear here… I’m not saying I get my rocks off by getting rid of my change all at once in exchange for Vitamin Water.  What I’m saying is that I get my rocks off by watching the amount shown on the vending machine gradually go from practically zero to a significant quantity of change, say $1.50, which happens to be enough money to purchase one Vitamin Water.  I like the yellow flavor.


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