Cheese, or more properly, cheese food product, is a wonderful thing. My head is not really exploding from web overdose, but for a break in the action, lacking anything really useful to contribute to the blog-o-sphere, I sometimes resort to the silly.
So a few days ago, I decided to spread some comment love by adding something completely irrelevant to posts form my friends. Sure its kind of like spam, but I know, even when I get a goofy off topic comment, it can lift my day. So I posted about 12 blog/flickr comments and a tweet for fun, somehow relating every blog topic I could find to the common world theme of cheddar cheese, and ending with the key magic phrase, “I can haz some” — the latter being a “tag” of sorts so I could see where they might get scraped in by google.
As of today, 3 days after the cheese a thon, google has 4 cheese comment sitings which, if I was truly devout, I might sweep into a dynamic RSS feed using the cool new feedmysearch site (twitterbution to Beth Ritter-Guth, thanks!).
I heard also of a study that cheese sandwiches are correlated with a high degree of intellectual acuity. Or perhaps correlated with hair on the toes. I keep getting confused.
Its a cheese world after all.
And it all brings me around to Grilled Cheese Pete.
In middle school, I got hooked on eating grilled cheese for lunch. You know those sandwiches, slathered in butter, with 2 thick slices of cheese food product melted to gold in between. One day, I ordered my sandwich, and the lady behind the counter turned her head to the woman at the stove, and yelled in a burly cigarette hasp voice, “Grilled Cheese, Pete!” I was strangely fascinated that there was a woman named “Pete” cooking in our kitchen, and I ordered them every day for a year.
I had a strange childhood, needed to get out more.