Tuesday, May 18, 2010

The Classiest Toast I've ever made

Location: Chicago Opera Theater, adjacent to Millennium Park
Type of Bread: Sketchy sourdough from BJ

Remember how last time I said toast was the food of the proletariat? Well, it is also the food of the bourgeoisie, because nothing goes better with opera than freshly-toasted bread. I bought an opera subscription (because I'm super classy), so I was downtown to see the last show in the season, "Three Decembers". But I'm not going to talk about it because you don't read this to hear me talk about opera, you read it to hear me talk about toasters.

Our story begins in Millennium Park. I thought it would be nice to get a picture with the toaster in front of the bean. As soon as my backpack was unzipped, a guy came up to me and started taking pictures of my struggle to get it out. I asked him to take my picture, and he was kind enough to do so. Afterward we had this conversation:

Guy: So, what is this all about?
Me: My friends and I bought this toaster, and now we carry it around and take pictures with it.
Guy: Ah, like a garden gnome?
Me: Yeah!

He was a pretty chill dude.

Emboldened by my interaction with the chill dude, I walked around Millennium Park holding my toaster. I asked a Segway Cop if she knew where I could find an outlet. She replied "No, and definitely not for that." She was less amused than the chill dude.

Then I went into the opera house. I went an hour early to avoid crowds (I don't want to create a scene, I just want to make toast!). I quickly found an outlet, plugged in the toaster, and threw in the bread. Then I realized what I was doing, and I was simultaneously terrified and overjoyed. Here are some pictures I took of the crime:

Notice how the toaster is hanging by the plug.

I even put bread in it!

This is where I made toast about a half hour after I was caught. I took this to prove I didn't just make toast in some random corner.

Here is the story of how I got caught: I was pretty flustered, so I was pacing around just outside of the doorway where the toaster was cooking me some sweet, sweet toast. A security guard saw me, looking insanely suspicious, and we had this conversation:

Guard: Hey
Me: How are you?
Guard: Good, you?
Me: Fine... just making toast.
Guard: Uh... *slowly walks toward me until he can see the toaster* No, no, no, no. You can't do that in here.

For encountering a crazy person trying to make toast in an opera theater, I think he handled it pretty well.

Monday, May 3, 2010

Our New Apartment (First Post)

Location: New Apartment
Type of Bread: Cinnamon Raisin Bread from the Med

On May day, Jacob, Sophia, Mike, Classics and I got the keys to our first apartment, and celebrated by making toast in the unfurnished sun room. I thought this was very fitting, as toast is the food of the proletariat. The apartment is perfect for college students like us, meaning that it is cheap because it is pretty rundown. But I think that gives it character, so I couldn't be happier with the situation. One of the most interesting things about the apartment is our landlord, Mr. Harrison. We were lucky enough to avoid a MAC apartment (but we were even more lucky to avoid having to sign a lease with the real estate agent given to us by MAC. He is easily the sweatiest man in the world. He is also a sleezy salesman.), but this means having a landlord. Our interactions with Mr. Harrison all go like this:

1) He has forgotten who most of us are. We remind him.
2) He tries to sell us a computer desk that he bought for the apartment for 100$. None of us want a 100$ computer desk. Awkward silence ensues.
3) He expresses concern that we'll party/damage the apartment/make too much noise. We tell him that all we do for fun is play boardgames. He realizes we are lame and is slightly less worried.

We got to the apartment, talked to Mr. Harrison, ran over to Hyde Park Produce to get bread, and made toast. Here is the exciting footage:

The amazing 5-dollar toaster:

Sophia models the toast:

The toast is cooking while I drink chocolate milk. The carton said "Sassy Cow" on it. Sophia is eating yogurt which was not made by a sassy cow, and therefore not as good as my chocolate milk:

So, apartment life should be interesting. And while we live there, we will make toast there.