DANCIN' ON THE GRAVE OF ALL THINGS ORIGINAL.
Below are some snapshots during my #foodporn smorgasbord…
This truck speaks my language. @bigasssandwich
Why yes, those are fries in my big ass sammich.
Out back, where the goodness is made. #foodporn
Uhhhhhhh. Icecream? Anyone?
@ThreeTwins organic ice cream
Thanks to the nice fella’, Sam, who explained the Monopoly-esque money system that #sfsff was using for
drunken early ticket buyers. (So that’s what Canadian money looks like?!) That’s a great way to not lose yer cash if yer tipsy, eh?
The “I <cart> STREET FOOD” shirts were omnipresent on Folsom Street.
The end is nigh. Gorge thyself on tuna tartare, while you still can.
It wouldn’t be a food festival without something wrapped in #bacon…
Makeshift food tables that are both ghetto street-cred worthy and eco-friendly? Check.
Cheeky! Check them out at @LIBAFalafel.
That’s all, folks!
Good times were definitely had, and so was many a tasty, greasy, delicious bite at the #sfsff this year.
Next year, I buy myself an “I <cart> STREET FOOD” shirt, get in early on some of that Canuck lookin’ funny money, and prepare a vendor bucket-list!
See you next year!
An American tourist was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked.
Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The tourist complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.
The Loneliest Whale in the World.
In 2004, The New York Times wrote an article about the loneliest whale in the world. Scientists have been tracking her since 1992 and they discovered the problem:
She isn’t like any other baleen whale. Unlike all other whales, she doesn’t have friends. She doesn’t have a family. She doesn’t belong to any tribe, pack or gang. She doesn’t have a lover. She never had one. Her songs come in groups of two to six calls, lasting for five to six seconds each. But her voice is unlike any other baleen whale. It is unique—while the rest of her kind communicate between 12 and 25hz, she sings at 52hz. You see, that’s precisely the problem. No other whales can hear her. Every one of her desperate calls to communicate remains unanswered. Each cry ignored. And, with every lonely song, she becomes sadder and more frustrated, her notes going deeper in despair as the years go by.
Just imagine that massive mammal, floating alone and singing—too big to connect with any of the beings it passes, feeling paradoxically small in the vast stretches of empty, open ocean.
I’m actually upset after reading this.