Thanks For My Next Cooking Idea, Little Saigon.

Smashing.

If a tree falls in the woods, does it break into that awkward jog to make it look like it didn't?

The other day, during a storm, a big tree fell onto my mom's house. It smashed through the roof, leaving a big hole just in time for yesterday's Nor'easter. By the way, that's my bedroom on the upper left.

A few other houses in my hometown had the same issue, and shameful tree-service guys were gouging people when they needed them most. My mom was quoted $6000 to have it removed.

Hang in there, Mom.

Deep Down, We're All That Dude At 7-Eleven With His Bathrobe On.

I never was a robe guy, until I was staying in a nice hotel a few months ago and tried on a hooded, soft sweatshirt-cotton robe. I was hooked. Turns out they're not just for Satanists who sacrifice babies.

I finally found one for myself, and it arrived just in time, as I was fighting a wicked cold. Even with my head throbbing and my nose running, I got to hang out like a Jedi all day.

It's truly like wearing a hug. Even the color is perfect: cocoa. And I've discovered some other benefits: if somebody stops by my place unexpectedly, I can be "just about to hop in the shower". And whenever I get the mail, my neighbors wonder if I'm a mental patient.

Get one, and join me.

Culinary Corner: My Very First Dessert.

Hell yeah I love to eat. My iPhone won't even recognize my fingerprint unless it's got crumbs on it.

So I suppose it was inevitable that I'd wind up teaching myself to cook, which I started doing last month. And in my fifth attempt, I made a woven chocolate cinnamon bread.

Because my friend Jenn knows I'm a maniac who has to do things the hard way, she sent me the recipe, knowing full well I would embrace the five-and-a-half hours it took to make.

The key is in the weaving. Start with three longs rolls of dough filled with cinnamon and chocolate, slice them down the middle, and take a leap. The end product was one huge bread – so big, I cut it in half and brought it over to my brother's. Stop by his place and have a nosh.

Opening Dialogue.

I feel like maybe if God didn't spend all his time helping people win at awards shows, he'd have time to fix some shit.

I'll watch the shows anyway. And over the weekend, here in LA, there were two award shows. The Independent Spirit Awards wisely piggybacks on the Oscars, taking advantage of having all the nominees in town. They set up a big tent on the beach by the Santa Monica Pier, and for the second year in a row, had John Mulaney and Nick Kroll host.

I like Nick because we're from the same hometown, and he was super cool when I bumped into him out here. Plus he and John Mulaney are fearless and hilarious. Check out their mono/dialogue opening:

 
That's the way it's done.

The Oscars were very good as well. And I thought this was super cool:

Rita Moreno is wearing the same dress she wore in 1962 when she took home the Oscar for best supporting actress for her role in "West Side Story" https://t.co/SDtV8oDuLJ pic.twitter.com/UVNOVUvgjm

— Los Angeles Times (@latimes) March 5, 2018

Rita Moreno is 86 years old. Damn cool.

Happy Oscars, Actors.

My favorite Academy Award moment was the dead-person montage a few years ago, when all the celebs Joan Rivers insulted had to applaud her.

Now the latest insult is here, three days before this year's Oscars. SAG has notified us that The Weinstein Company's checks aren't going to clear. Turns out that Harvey's kind of a bad guy.

28 Seconds Of February.

Packing twice in ten days is probably the worst game of Tetris I've ever played.

February may be the shortest month, but I filled it with lots of goodness, including two trips.

Here it is, one second per day: