My Homage to the Oreo Cookie
Friday night was the first of the season that actually felt chilly. I was in a sea green shape-hugging tank and high waisted gold lusterless jeans. No cardigan. Went to the Silver Spring Mining Station for one of my favorite things to eat ever, a salmon blt. I was seated right next to the door to the outdoor patio, and every time someone opened it to walk in or out, a sudden gust of cold wind rushed against me, shocking my upper body more than a little. I gasped each time, but was loving it and savoring each second. The way I love throat freezes when I’m eating a popsicle too fast. Everyone thinks I’m crazy for loving those. I can understand how it could be unpleasant, but for me, it just feels so good when I can feel the icy sensation starting at the top of my throat and uncontrollably spreading down and around the whole inside of my throat, positively arctic, impossible to ignore or quell, and I just have to sit there and feel it and be in ecstacy until it naturally subsides. I never get brain freezes; I’ve heard those are more painful.
On the way out, one of the waitresses remembered us from the last time we were there, with Gil and Sullivan, like a month ago. Gil had asked for crayons, because the table was covered in butcher paper, and sketched, in blue crayon, a very detailed and impressive depiction of one of his co-workers, a woman in her 40s who does very crass things at work. I have the honor of hearing stories about her shitting all over the floor of her cubicle week after week, how bad it smells, and what it sounds like. Gil and Sullivan both work with her. In a word bubble coming from her drooping wrinkled lips, Gil wrote, "Oooooooh Gurrl! I must be allergic to breakfast!" Apparently, that’s what this woman always says before it happens, in a very high pitched voice. Sullivan drew across a large portion of the table, a woman’s legs spread wide open with a gigantic vagina in the middle. He drew labia and a clitoris and all, very detailed for a gay man. Then he drew a bunch of penises of all sizes about to go into her monster fucking vagina. Some of them were squirting semen all over the table too. William and Sullivan kept writing racial expletives under hangmen, and Gil kept trying to color over them frantically. Sullivan wrote "I *heart* CUNT" at the edge of the table, where our waiter approached and bugged out his eyes a bit. That waiter seemed very annoyed with those three boys, but kept smiling sweetly at me. I wasn’t drawing, just laughing, shaking my head a lot, and then laughing more. The waitress we ran into on the way out this past Friday told us that the staff wanted to save the big blue drawing of Gil’s and Sullivan’s co-worker. I laughed, wondering what else the staff must have seen.
Sullivan came over Saturday night to have some of the Mini Oreo Cheesecakes I made the night before and talk about the prenuptial agreement he wants William to draft for him and Gil. Apparently, the faggots are getting married. Hahaha! Sullivan told us the whole marriage is basically a joke to him, which I’d already figured. He had a few drinks and acted like his normal crazy self. I sat on the opposite side of the room from him and put on some Portlandia, which seemed to act as a pacifier for Sullivan. Next time, the pacifier will be the movie Blue Velvet, since he hasn’t seen it, and I think he’d LOVE Dennis Hopper as Frank Booth as much as I do.
Here are my Mini Oreo Cheesecakes, a few of them. These have an Oreo cookie at the bottom of each cupcake liner, forming the crust:
Earlier tonight, I paid further homage to the Oreo cookie by making this giant Oreo Cookie-Shaped Cake. Had the pans lying around, and figured I’d use them. That’s a very dark and rich Dutch-process cocoa cake, and a basic three-ingredient buttercream, extra buttery, as the filling:
Funny thing is, I never really eat Oreo cookies.
Thought this sketch was really funny, especially the ending: