That was an interesting experience.
That was an interesting experience. I suppose if you really want to experience swimming with sharks, you douse yourself with chum and jump in a feeding frenzy. I had never been to a chili cook-off before... if you're going to be a judge at your first (and maybe only) chili cook-off, then be a judge on the final table! My speculation surrounding the probability of this being a blind drunk hillbilly-fest was accurate bordering on spooky. The important thing is, everyone there was having an excellent time even if it wasn't my flavor of fun. There were 20 different chili's out of gawd knows how many that made the final table. I was probably the only sober judge at the table. There was only one of the 20 that really stood out in my opinion. Half of them were absolutely terrible (which made me thankful that I was judging what was supposed to be the "best" chilis there vice those cut before I arrived). I didn't dare speak my opinion of the lot in fear of a lynching. The "competition chili" you find at these things is nothing like what most people would consider chili. They have strict rules about what you can and can't put in the chili, how long you cook it, what you cook it in... stuff like that. Basically, the chili at these things consists of water, a tiny can of tomato sauce, a little bit of meat, and an ass-ton of chili powder. Nothing else. No veggies, no beans, no anything. It really isn't that good, but you didn't hear that from me (see above - reference lynching). It was a warm day with beautiful skies, so I spent as much time as possible outside. Like I said, it was an interesting experience. I am starting to get a headache. My yard crew came while I was gone... dammit! There are these 5 or 6 guys that come on Saturdays and mow my lawn... but they like completely manicure everything... mow, edge, weed-whack, rake, bag, etc. Anyway, I used to just pay them cash when they showed up to do it, but since I haven't been home the last 5 or 6 times they came, I probably own them like... uh, a lot. Anyway, they just keep coming. I don't know how to reach them. I don't have any numbers or addresses... they just keep coming to mow my grass. I have been trying to stick around on Saturdays so that I can pay them and get some form of contact for them, but I always seem to miss them. For example, last time the came, I went down the street to pick up groceries... BAM! They hit my yard like a SWAT team and were gone before I got back. Shit! Eventually, I'm sure our timing will sync and I'll be here when they show up, but I don't even want to guess what the freakin' bill will be... geez! Time to shower and head over to Stephen's apartment. Ciao.