I spent the better part of an hour arguing about the merits of the croque-monsiuer vs the monte cristo, with an old high school friend that gets a kick out of arguing.
He will argue about just about anything, but cooking is our best topic, politics is just too loaded. One or the other of us will get pissed off in the end.
Cooking keeps it light.
We chat online, which makes it even more absurd.
I type faster and spell better than he does, but he has some real zingers.
Knows how to roast without offending.
You are my favorite curmudgeon
I tell him, and he calls me a brainiac.
He accuses me of being so Portland.
He is cultivating a persona of the eccentric living off the land. He has money and can make that work.
I am not so Portland and he is no gentleman farmer, but chatting is fun. Old friends are a comfort.
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