by Michael Yonchenko
(Swans - January 30, 2006) We all have routines in our lives. One of my favorites is Sunday morning. Let me describe for you the first thirty minutes of my Sunday, January 8, 2006. Welcome to my world. Make sure to wipe your feet before you come in.
I climbed out of bed at 10:00 AM. I had a bad backache. I always get a bad backache from staying in bed too long. The day was only 30-seconds old and I was already being punished. I started to look for my bathrobe and new slippers. The dogs, Pinky and bob (lower-case bob as opposed to upper-case Bob, my brother-in-law) like the new slippers so much that I have to hide them. These boys are crafty. I considered buying a pair made of rawhide. It is a good canine dental hygiene practice.
Lea was sitting in her chair in the living room. Lea and "guests" are the only people authorized to sit in her chair. The dogs and I know this and are well trained. She is reading the New York Times. I know it is the periodical of choice for middle-of-the-road, middle-class-bourgeois, let-other-people-do-your-thinking-for-you-without-the-backbone-to-stand up-to-the-man/system people who like to think they are liberals. But it has a better crossword puzzle in it than anything ever written by Noam Chomsky or Milo Clark.
It was time for breakfast. In order to get to the food I had to pay the vig (look up vigorish in your Webster's Dictionary) to the boys. I gave each of them a small piece of stale Pumpernickel. With this business taken care of I began to prepare my breakfast.
I started with the espresso. Caffeine is my drug of choice. On this morning I make a double espresso accompanied by a toasted California ersatz bagel-like doughy product. bob, my nearly deaf, nearly blind, almost fourteen-year-old dog who has never met a meal he didn't like, sits at my feet staring at me. This is his mealtime hypnosis ritual. His gaze is stiletto sharp (or as sharp as it can be for a nearly blind dog) and he is inwardly chanting, "GIVE ME YOUR FOOD, GIVE ME YOUR FOOD, GIVE ME YOUR FOOD." I decided to try a new technique to counter his hypnotic glare. I began to talk to bob as if I were Martha Stewart and he was the celebrity guest on my show. I was hoping to interrupt his focus.
The best espresso is made by using the best coffee. I like to use Illy Brand coffee because real Italians use it and I have stock in the company. I bought and sold it illegally. I think it is important for me to feature products on my show that generate additional income for me. And the cans make especially nice frying grease receptacles that can be used later in the year for a pre-packaged budget confit.
"GIVE ME YOUR FOOD, GIVE ME YOUR FOOD, GIVE ME YOUR FOOD."
Lea ignored me. She will never admit that she listens when I talk to the dogs or to the television. This, she says, only encourages me. She's right. I like to play to a packed house.
There are a number of different types of coffee to use for making a good espresso. You have your regular, your decaf...or as my Italian friends call it "decafinato." There is also instant espresso, which I NEVER use.
"GIVE ME YOUR FOOD, GIVE ME YOUR FOOD, GIVE ME YOUR FOOD."
Today I'm using regular because I like feeling energized at the beginning of the day. Now I put the coffee into this metal cup-like holder. I am very careful not to spill any on the counter. Spilling coffee on the counter is messy and will require cleaning if it should happen.
Lea is crazy-clean and will expect me to sandblast the kitchen if this should happen. She drags our new Dyson vacuum cleaner around the house the way an emphysema patient totes a bottle of oxygen.
Next, I pack the coffee carefully and insert the holder in the machine.
"GIVE ME YOUR FOOD, GIVE ME YOUR FOOD, GIVE ME YOUR FOOD."
It's time to make espresso! First you press the "start" button. You'll see the steaming hot brew drip into your cute little cup. You can buy these cups by going to my website at wretchedwasp.com. There are six different sets to choose from. I designed a set for each month that I spent in my nicely-appointed prison cell. Now you'll definitely want to sweeten your espresso once it is fully brewed. You can use a chemically-based sweetener that is fat-free and will give you cancer. You can also use real sugar like I do. But you have to be careful because real sugar will make you grow an ass as big as mine. It has often been mistaken for the rear end of a 1948 Buick Special. And I wear the plates to prove it. I made the plates while I was in prison. You can also buy these at my website.
"GIVE ME YOUR FOOD, GIVE ME YOUR FOOD, GIVE ME YOUR FOOD."
Now here's something interesting. I like to prepare a bagel while the espresso is brewing. Today I have chosen a plain bagel because they are harmless treats for dogs.
Uh-oh. The hypnosis was beginning to work.
California bagels, also known as bread gaskets, are baked after they are steamed. It's cheaper and easier to steam a bagel rather than to boil it. Boiling a bagel just before baking is what would make it authentic and delicious. Steam is what gives it that special doughy texture that does not require chewing. And you can also use them for mattress batting! Most California bagels are frozen so that Halliburton can sell them in bulk to the Defense Department for millions of dollars. And by the way, I also own piles of Halliburton stock. Now, I put the frozen bagel in my nuclear-powered microwave oven. It's best to keep a microwave oven in the house because the NSA uses them as listening devices, and, they can easily defrost an iceberg quicker than you can say "Oh shit! We're sinking."
"HEY MIKEY!!! THE BAGEL. GIVE MEEEEE THE BAGEL."
I find it is easier to defrost the bagel in the microwave, or "meecrowahvay" as they say in Tuscany where I own three villas. I bought all three with the money I made from insider trading.
"GIVE ME YOUR GODDAMN BAGEL OR I'M GOING TO LEAVE MUD PRINTS ON YOUR NEW PILLOW."
Once defrosted, I toast it using an Amana Toaster Oven. I like the "Global Warming" model because it can run on any fossil fuel. When the bread gasket is toasted I prepare it with cream cheese, or a shmear, as it is called by some of my best friends in New York City. I like to use a four-inch-thick layer of cheese so I don't have to taste the bagel.
"FORGET THE DAMN BAGEL! GIMME THE CHEESE!"
The bagel was shmeared and the espresso brewed. It was time to con Lea out of the NY Times Magazine so I could begin my Sunday ritual of struggling with the crossword puzzle. Lea pointed out the Louis Vuitton ad on page 14. She said the model looked like the quintessential "Golden Shiksa." She (the model, not Lea, whose hair is not golden) reminded me of my "Golden Youth;" that time in my life when winning the war in Vietnam was far more imminent than the loss of my virginity.
I found a pencil with a new eraser and got to work. But first, I broke off half of the bagel and gave it to bob.
Like bagels? We do. Please send some dough to Swans.