We're holding a reading of S.P. Miskowski's new play, Daughters of Catastrophe, tomorrow here at home. It's "An intelligent and twisted comedy that reflects the social, political and personal implications of living in our often amoral times."
I'm going to help fill out the reading cast. I don't think as one of the titular daughters, but you never know.
Having wrapped up a big deadline (for an as-yet-unannounced project) and in need of sugar-driven power to finish the next one, I happened upon this new selection at our local, over-priced Broadway grocery. In a fit of inspiration, I chose the iced cream that seemed to have the most in common with the name of this blog.
A pleasant surprise, the Fossil Fuel flavor does not actually contain petroleum or petroleum by-products (unless "delicious" is a by-product). It certainly fills the mental gas tank and powers the emergency generator of creativity. It does, however, take a little time to figure out what exactly you're getting.
For the record, the ingredients: Sweet cream ice cream with chocolate cookie pieces, fudge dinosaurs, and a fudge swirl.
I'm not sure what the difference is between sweet cream ice cream and the normal vanilla variety B&J do so well, except it didn't immediately taste as sweet. In fact, the first bite reminded me of one of those sugar-free faux frozen treats that are supposed to keep dieters from making midnight runs to 7-11. So I guess the "sweet cream" isn't really as sweet as all that, and it does float to the top.
After that initial mild disappointment, things improved exponentially with each spoonful. Once past the weird, somewhat bland "sweet cream effect" (like the butterfly effect, but creamier and with less Ashton Kutcher) I hit my first vein of fudge swirl. And my friends, this fudge swirl makes it all work. The cookie pieces are fine, your basic chocolate cookie; the dino-fudge thingies too are fine, though Vermont's finest ice cream makers might want to consider figuring out a way to justify the name of a product that *doesn't* include the chocolate equivalent of a nametag (I refer you to the chocolate cows in their Vermonty Python flavor).
But that fudge swirl? Damn. Well played, Ben. Kudos, Jerry.
Somehow, combined with the other ingredients, the fudge swirl immediately tastes like a hot fudge sundae, the really simple but perfect kind you remember from childhood (at least, I do, I was a fat little kid). If anything, I wanted more of that and less of the cookies and the choco-dinos.
You know what would wrap up this nicely? Some scores, based on a scale of one to ten.
Ingredients: 6
Sweet cream? I don't know what that is, it's ice cream, it should be sweet anyway, yeah? Cookies? Good, but uninspired. Ditto for the chocolate--excuse me, *fudge*--dinosaurs. But that fudge swirl makes it all work.
Flavor: 8
Thanks to the fudge, what began as a "meh" experience became a thrilling blast from the flavor past.
Packaging: 5
I dig the dino-teeth, but it would have been so much cooler to see an actual dinosaur. Or an oil rig. Or a dinosaur eating ice cream atop an oil rig.
Overall (Not necessarily an average): 7
Remember, in the relative world of iced cream ranking, you have to try really hard to make iced cream taste bad. But can you make it taste not just good, but spectacular? That's the challenge. I had my doubts at first, but thanks to a rich vein of fudgy goodness, the boys from Vermont were able to remind me of ice cream sundaes and birthday parties when I least expected it. A solid 7.
And very nearly on the deadline, too. I'm beat, but this oft-seen and -imitated number exemplifies how good it feels to be done within fudge range (i.e., it was due on the 20th, but our editor, the gracious and saintly Susan J. Morris, granted us the Thanksgiving weekend, and it all worked out).
Take it away, Bill.
Introducing the official mascot of Corythosaurus, my middle nephew, Mr. Brayden "Brady" Saavedra. This year, Brady chose a Halloween costume that spoke to the importance of the American highway in the development of 20th Century culture. Or perhaps he was illustrating one of the terrifying causes of global warming, a chilling Halloween apparition of the 21st. Or, and I think this is the case, he digs the song.
The reflective lane dividers? Functional and safety conscious. Those cars careening into Brady's armpits? Totally going to manage to careen back onto the road. Halloween magic, my friends, just in time for Thanksgiving.
They make me cry and drink and cry in my drink.
But then again, better than not having them at all, better by far. The first major iron in the fire is a first draft of my first attempt at outright collaborative writing with Mr. Scott McGough. We're both used to charging for the finish line with a first draft, but now we're charging out of sequence and its requiring staggering feats of frequent electronic communication.
Second big iron is Pirates of the Burning Sea. Jess Lebow and I and the rest of the Pirates content department were joined by Chris Pramas. Chris rules. The department, hereafter known as ConCo, is furiously generating the words and storylines that will make up the life of a seafaring captain. Been spending a lot of time peering at maps of Bermuda and concocting (hopefully) nifty naval encounters.
I don't know if anyone's reading this blog but my mom (hi, Mom), but just in case, that explains the dearth of posts lately.
So I volunteered to help with voices and audio on Pirates of the Burning Sea, and yesterday we hit the studio to record incidental dialogue and what the sound engineer calls "exerts"--sound effects that play during avatar combat (duels, swordplay, and the like). And as is often the case, I didn't *just* get to skip a day of work to hang out in the recording studio and eat a free cheeseburger--I also learned a few things, too.
1) I only have the one pirate voice, and he's a combination of Steve the Pirate from the movie "Dodgeball" and the sea captain from the Simpsons.
2) My "proper English" voice bounces back and forth between Patrick Stewart and Jeeves.
3) Improvising in a Spanish or French accent is really hard.
4) The sound you make when you toss sand in someone's eyes is very similar to the sound you make when you get slashed across the cheek.
5) Everyone's favorite sound effect was the "I've just been stabbed in the eye" sound.
Hey, all y'all (my friend from Alabama says that's the appropriate way to refer to more than one person, y'all being singular) Dom has got the interview up on the newly revamped MTGCast site. It's an hour and a half of pure Cory goodness. Enjoy, won't you?
And if you dig the Magic cards, check out the rest of the MTGCast podcasts, which feature charming people who are much better at playing Magic than I am.
I've enjoyed my share of fine iced creams (as should be apparent) and rarely have I been let down by the two Gentlemen of Vermont. Now on some level it's impossible to be truly "let down" by ice cream, I mean, it's ice cream, and Ben and Jerry do it well. But there's something(s) literally missing in their American Pie limited flavor.
It's exactly what it says--apple pie-flavored ice cream with chunks of apple pie--but come, Ben, Jerry, you're Ben and Jerry. You don't just put apple pie and ice cream together and call it a limited edition. Humankind has been doing that for at least three years, if not longer. I guess I'm looking for more. Crunchy cobbler-type stuff mixed in with the pie. Swirls of cinnamon-caramel. I dunno, Frosted Flakes. The carefully-rationed ashes of Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper. Okay, not that. But something.
Apparently, a percentage of proceeds from the American Pie flavor go to a reading program or programs, so by all means buy it for that if you like, but if you're looking for an iced cream worthy of the Van Gogh-like creative madness that gave us Chubby Hubby, you'd be better off sending the kids a check and hitting that Phish Food.
Dom over at MTGCast interviewed me this morning about the Ravnica books, writing, deadlines, and keeping cinemas open on Christmas, among other things. He said it should be up on or around Tuesday, September 12.
Hit the MTGCast link over on the right to see what Dom and his gang of scrappy, troubled loners get up to.
Welcome to Corythosaurus. I'm Cory Herndon, and when I was five years old I discovered I was named after a dinosaur.
I write things, and I intend to write more things here as time allows. During the day, I write about pirates for this game, and put words in their mouths. You'd think it would be all Yarrring and Yo-Hoing, but it turns out pirates say things between those words occasionally. Until a few months ago, I did much the same thing on this other game.
By nights and weekends, I write fiction, including the Magic: the Gathering Ravnica trilogy, and this, and this, and some other things. I've got a website where you can find links to all of those, as well as leftovers from when I was trying to do all of this with clumsy tools I didn't really understand. This is so much easier.
I'm not sure what this blog's going to focus on yet, but I'm thinking I might ramble on about comic books, what I'm working on, what I'm watching, what I'm playing, and if you're very unlucky, what I'm eating.
Speaking of which, today was a Dick's Deluxe and 2 cheese for lunch, and then S.P. cooked sole and green beans for dinner washed down with a Fat Tire. I don't usually eat breakfast.
Tonight's feature was The Ladykillers with Alec Guiness and the evening will soon conclude with some Enchanted Arms. Fine game, if you enjoy the classic, linear, Japanese RPG style, with all the weirdness and turn-based hijinks that come with it. But funny as it is, it can't beat the Ladykillers. Yet.
