I know that I’m so close to completing this challenge. I’m acutely aware of it with every one of my senses.
Everything about this week’s meat and post is a race.
Well, basically. Continue reading
Not having a fridge makes my most obvious hobby a huge challenge. Add to that finalising the pitch and synopsis for my upcoming book and it was another interesting week for Meat Mike Campbell.
That’s me. And the hobby is cooking, if it wasn’t obvious.
This week I decided it was time to conquer one of nature’s true beasts.
And by that I don’t mean the Abominable snowman. Or the Tyrannosaurus Rex. I couldn’t find either of those at the butcher.
No, I mean the Great White Shark….!!!!!
Who knows what this week was?
Here are a few answers that are correct:
- The 41st week of 2012
- The 41st consecutive different meat in a row for me
- The week after the week before this one
- The first anniversary of my wonderful mum passing away
- The week I truly realised how annoying looking for a new place can be (or perhaps more accurately how annoying and unreliable rental agents can be)
- The week in which it would appear Lance Armstrong is most definitely guilty
I don’t keep really close tabs on all of you, just some, so I’m sure there were one or two other things of importance. However, for me there was one other pretty colossal event and that was the:
100% commitment from me to write a book!
I started out this week going on a bunch of different rollercoasters , literally and figuratively; the week started at Dreamworld Theme Park on the Gold Coast.
I may rabbit on as a guy about having to be a real man and not an oestrogen flooded, out of shape pseudo-man like many we see today, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t act like children from time to time, hence my child-like enjoyment on ‘The Big Drop’ .
My realisation for this week is this: The earth does not orbit the sun purely in order for me to eat 52 meats in 52 weeks.In case you’re not counting along with me (for I most definitely am), this is week 35. 35 weeks out of an entire year in which I have a different meat each week.
It’s starting to get up there, and as I’ve discussed lately, that means I’m starting to run into a bit of sourcing trouble.
There seems to be some debate, on the internet anyway, what the correct and proper plural term for ‘Octopus’ is.
I thought it would be ‘Octopi’, and so did many other people as it turns out, however, it is actually ‘Octopuses’. Perhaps Octopussy is better, certainly for this purpose, as I essentially claimed James Bond status this week by taking down four octopuses in one sitting. Octopussy’s. Whatever…