Much as I tried to pull together at least a preview of a project that I’m working on for this column today, it is not to be; there is much back burner simmering to be done before that column is ready to be savoured.
But speaking of food … here’s something I wrote in the Spring of 2013, and have revised and updated for your dining and dancing entertainment. Bon Appetit!
Working in show business is like dating a girl that is clinically insane. Sometimes it can be absolutely mind blowing and amazing and sometimes it can be like having your eyes eaten out by fire ants. I shall now recount one such ocular bug buffet that would have given Leiningen himself, the cold shits.
The Beginning:
Andrew and I just been hired as co-executive producers on a so-so series about a genie (No, it wasn’t “I Dream of Jeannie” – I’m not that fucking old.). These types of 
fictional endeavors are problematic from the get-go. You have a mythical creature that can solve any problem by crossing his arms and nodding, so you spend 90% of your time trying to figure out the reason why he doesn’t. On this show, that was the least of our worries.
Mmm … food. Can’t live with it, can’t live without it. For some, food is a sensual pleasure, as delicious and desirous as sex. To others, it’s a necessity; they would be content if ever a pill was created that filled their nutritional needs without effort.
Gourmet or gourmand? That is the question. To me, there is nothing so sexy as a man or woman who not only enjoys good food, but revels in all its glories; heaven on the palate, a visual treat, and a tactile experience. To me, there is little as delightful as a feast for both the eyes and the stomach. Good food, in all of its 3D wonderment, warms the cockles of my heart, quickens my breath, and eases the tensions of life.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 