with great power comes great responsibility: slimming my koodo

advertisements.  are.  the worst.

certain campaigns really ask for it though, and Koodo is the one that currently makes my stomach twist the most.  it’s really awful.  and it’s really awful because it starts with fat-free mobility.  it actually says that it starts with fat-free mobility.  like thank god it’s fat free.  i am getting so fat fat free is awesome.  wtf.  do we even have to talk about this?  can we just all agree that anorexia was supposed to be over in high school?

and that’s kind of the koodo thing.  that’s why i hate it.  it’s post-(insert word, whatever you want) in the biggest way.  it’s so self aware i feel like it’s asking me if it’s coming off as too over the top and then instead of waiting for me to be like, “um…  yeah.  please settle down a little bit, some things are still sort of sacred.”, it’s like, “whatever world, i don’t even care i’m so over being a part of it anyway and besides, making fun of the fitness lingo and trends of the past is the only way to deal with the banality of existence, so eff off lame-o.” honestly though, i would be way happier if it were overtly racist.  like the extra gum ads that make fun of Scots.  or if it made fun of the holocaust or something.  then we’d all be like, “yay, i love texting to see if they’re still alive…”  for serial.

drop that chubby contract.  it’s funny.  don’t take it seriously.  it’s stupid.  and that’s why it’s funny.  and it doesn’t give a flying crap about anything else.  ha ha.  got it.  haha fat free mobility.  the 80s were retarded.  it’s soo hilarious. and dumb.

it’s not dumb.  it happens to be the super giant successful low price point son of telus and it’s cleaning the floor with it’s awesomeness.  it’s ads are fucking everywhere.  you cannot leave your house without being told about trimming your flabby contract.

it’s the only mobile phone campaign to employ the things that it’s employing.  by design it’s way timely–redoing what was cool 20 years ago and awful tacky now so that it fits under sexy, edgy and compelling with irony(!) is the best way to get an audience that was slightly too young to remember when it was cool to begin with.  it’s funny to them because they can’t relate to the 80s anyway.  it’s like when your parents think they’re being cool but come off as total dorks.  it’s too close to be romantic and mysterious, like the further more distant past, but un-relatable enough to be  embarrassing and clowny.  sure there’s the question of content vs.  design–obviously the things it’s promising kick smiling dogs and ugly beavers ass.  fine. whatever.  but the image of a bunch of crazed retards slimming down their access fees is so much more loaded and insidious than stupid beavers who just don’t quite get the land of humans because of who it appeals to.

the children.  youngsters.  youth.  people at ages where being attractive is very important.  people who have internalized the necessity of slimming down for success.

fitness and weight loss is a cultural obsession.  there is one indisputable goal:  thinness.  if you aren’t thin, like super skinny thing thin, you are not allowed to love yourself.  any and all fat is unlovable.  you have a long road to walk, or elliptical machine, (or just skip the pretense and stop eating.  whatever, lazybone), unless you want to be described as curvy, stocky, big boned or “more to love”.  you are not done, not ready, not there.  promise you won’t go out in a bathing suit until you have isolated every tiny bit of fat in your body and attacked it with the verve of 1000 health armies, because it would be really gross to see your fat body out in the sun.    you must organize your existence to ensure that you aren’t just healthy, you are HEALTHY, in order to achieve maximum hotness/thinness.  it is the task you must complete for you to be worthy of love and respect.  project:  body.

koodo uses stuff already in our cultural lexicon.  it’s embedded.  it’s there.  i know.  but i don’t think that we’ve gotten to a point of awareness where everyone can laugh at it.  i think it breeds tiny subconscious molecules of sadness and insecurity even as it poses as a joke.  it reiterates/reflects/is symptomatic of/enforces the sickness of the thinsession.  it’s an ad.  you don’t search it out. you don’t turn it on.  it looks at you whenever you leave the house.  it affronts public space.    it’s words are virtually unavoidable.  no one escapes.

aids in traffic

i had the pleasant experience of almost getting dead very recently. let me illustrate the scene:

me–cyclist, comprehensive class: considerate, equipped with lights, no ipod or cells, uses arm signals when turning left always

car guy–regular car guy. doesn’t want to kill anyone. except his girlfriend because she will never give him blowjobs anymore. (zing!)

i was trying to turn left through traffic to get to the other side of the street. i didn’t feel like pretending i was a pedestrian and going through the traffic light when it was red. i wanted to turn left just like a vehicle. like am supposed to. like a grown up.

i was in the right lane. there are four where i was trying to cross. the light way up ahead was red. the traffic in my direction was not going anywhere. i didn’t want to cross the streetcar tracks (earlier accident, residual fear), until i was really crossing. i used my arm (hi everyone, i want to turn left), and then waited in the right lane (where are you going to go, the light is red?) until i knew there was no one turning right from the green side of the traffic lights towards me.

it was clear.

i didn’t check behind me again because i thought everyone was stopped and had been watching me hang out in the middle of the road for like a century.

then i almost got killed by a guy in a car who came up behind me in the left lane (with streetcar tracks!) who stopped really fast about 10 millimeters from the front of my bike.

now here’s where it got really exciting:

1. Guy yelled, “HEY STUPID!!!”

2. I said, “whoah, thanks!” (like not sarcastic, i was really glad he didn’t hit me)

3. Guy said, “YOU’RE GOING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED LIKE THAT!!”

4. I say, (sarcastic and annoyed he’s telling me how much i suck at keeping myself alive), “I know.” (good one, dude. you really told him.)

Now, should I really be taking all the heat on this one? I don’t know. While I recognize that maybe that was a dumb slip and thanked my lucky amulets for forcefielding my safety, I resent that I have been thrown into the bottomless vortex of asshole cyclists category for failing to wait in the left hand lane. If I didn’t have a bike, things would be different because I would be recognized as a powerless pedestrian and everyone would slow down for me, smile and wave like holy smokes isn’t it cute that she’s crossing the street. Also it takes way less time to turn your head in two directions and walk forward than it does to do that and then start moving your bicycle. It’s true.

WE ARE MISUNDERSTOOD.

Being a cyclist is hard. No one likes you because you don’t fit into the road categories properly. The place you’re supposed to ride is usually flanked by possible death in the form of a car park lane (who designed this system?), you hate stopping and so don’t because inevitably you’re going up a hill and you’ll lose all of your speed which takes actual physical exertion to get up to which means that you constantly break the law but you know you’re not doing anything actually bad because who would die from being hit by a bicycle anyway and also you always check to see if things are coming and you can do that because you’ve already slowed down so much and you can see all of everything, and if you take up a whole road lane because you’re supposed to be a vehicle you piss off real vehicle drivers who can’t understand why in the hell you think you’re allowed to do that being a cyclist who can only go so fast, and if you’re turning left and cross like a pedestrian you piss off the pedestrians who think you’re supposed to be a vehicle and why are you all like freaking them out by being there and possibly threatening to ride too close to them for their sense of safety and comfort, but if you cross like a vehicle then the drivers hate your guts because where are you going and they can’t predict what you’re up to and you can just go in so many directions so easily and they really don’t want to kill you but you’re just such a menace to everything and why can’t you just cross like a pedestrian so everyone’s safe? and you’re supposed to wear a helmet for your very own safety, but the helmet’s all give you an insane headache and make your head sweat like crazy because you have to ride so fast to escape the insanity of the road and be free and that’s the point right? it’s free and it’s the best way to travel, but everyone sort of wants you to die if you’re not wearing a helmet (actually i could quote kevin frankish from breakfast television who upon hearing about a cyclist being destroyed by a giant truck said he had absolutely no sympathy for the guy because he wasn’t wearing a helmet. as if he basically signed his own death certificate by neglecting to put a half shell of plastic on his head. as if that would have saved him from being torn into three different pieces. as if the helmet is a glowing beacon that tells the whole world that this person is really taking safety seriously and that they don’t want to die so please be careful around them baby on board etc. but if they don’t wear it they’re actually as good as wearing blood red in front of the bulls so they get what they deserve, which is an extremely undignified death. awesome.)

maybe i haven’t sold this idea very well. i wholeheartedly endorse riding a bicycle to anyone who is okay with increasing their chances of dying regularly. it’s super worth it. Basically you get: freedom from the geographical limits, fees, and the inevitable tolerance you must have for the public in public transit; free parking (where available); a swifter way to get anywhere, depending on how much you push it (promise for the actual city core it’s faster than anything else); the wind in your face which is the best feeling ever; independence and alone time in the city (another best feeling ever).

the obvious downer is that it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been riding, however conscientiously, you’re chances of being hit by something bigger than you are pretty high. wearing a helmet is a good idea–especially if you’re a speed demon. your rights are limited and no one understands how to deal with you because there is no real place for you to be. The city doesn’t feel like it should do anything about that except for put signs up in places where a huge number of people have been hit for cyclists to dismount and walk–which is probably the best example i can give for why riding a bike doesn’t really equal vehicle. it plain and simple doesn’t.

of pickles

this summer it’s worked out that the weeks each have some sort of food theme. this is due to laziness, but the food themes are working out in this cool revisit-your-childhood-favourites kind of way, so I found out the enthusiasm for burritos three times in one week is still there. and i’m over that kind of weird guilt that you’re supposed to experience when you make popular 80’s classics more than once a month. It’s so oughts to fixate like that and anyway shut up, right?

so this week was burger week. burgers and salad. and the pickles were present every time. we were too lazy to go buy the other things that go on a plate with the pickles–tomatoes, onions, whatever, but the interesting thing is that we just automatically made sure there were pickles to put on the burgers. they even got their own plate. i have never thought about my feelings for pickles in a food lust way before but i started to notice that i just needed them there. and that plate of them sitting there on the table, all sliced up lengthwise with way too many to put on the burgers so you can just sneak a couple when other people are distracted, that plate of pickles was so comforting. and weirdly, the burger was complete–even though it was a lazy burger that lacked all the other things you associate with a successful burger (like fundamentally necessary for a really good burger experience), they actually didn’t need to be there and it was the first time i noticed. and it wasn’t like i was just amending myself to the situation. i didn’t miss the other stuff and i was just as grateful to eat the burger as i would have been with the fandangos. i just needed the pickles.

There is a profound lesson in there somewhere.

tolerance

Wikipedia says,

The principle of toleration is controversial. Liberal critics may see in it an inappropriate implication that the “tolerated” custom or behavior is an aberration or that authorities have a right to punish difference; such critics may instead emphasize notions such as civility or pluralism. Other critics, some sympathetic to traditional fundamentalism condemn toleration as a form of moral relativism. On the other hand, defenders of toleration may define it as involving positive regard for difference or, alternately, may regard a narrow definition of the term as more specific and useful than its proposed alternatives, since it does not require false expression of enthusiasm for groups or practices that are genuinely disapproved of.

Navigating through everyone’s ideas of reality and god without getting upset or upsetting them is hard. What do you do? Does it matter? Are you supposed to discuss that stuff if you know already that you will not, so to speak, improve your understanding or their understanding by getting into a “discussion”?

I have this idea about religion. It goes like this: believe whatever it is that makes you feel awesome but never talk about it and everyone will be happy. (The topic should be about as taboo as masturbating for 13 year old girls. In fact, I vote that every time you think about saying something nonsecular, instead, try to make the world more forgiving to pubescent females.)

My opinion about religion sort of follows the same train of thought as my friend’s idea of physical activity, or “exercising”: it’s not a topic for discussion. Do whatever it is that you do privately. Don’t talk about it to people. It’s inappropriate. It’s super boring. It’s your own personal biznis.  More or less everyone has their own concept of how it should be done.

But for some reason exercising alone is not that satisfying and needs to be augmented by some sort of positive feedback or reassurance that you are doing the right thing. With exercise, the motivation to announce your routine, or adherence to the collective concept of “healthy active living”, is propelled by an urge to demonstrate to your peers that you know about, and follow through on, what is right and good (and hot). “I’ve been exercising.”, actually means, “Please congratulate me because I just found out that the only real reason I do it is for praise.” If exercise is so great and has changed your life in such a positive way, just be glad you found out before you got type 2 diabetes. It’s not that satisfying, I know, but constantly telling you how much of a difference it’s made in you is super tedious and I want to die every time you talk about it. Please let’s all acknowledge that exercising is really boring actually, but if we think it’s a good idea for us to do, we can do it and just accept that not everything is packed with revelations at all times.

Same with god. Volunteering information that pertains to religion, unsolicited, is annoying no matter what the awesome tenets are or how good it is for a sense of community. Everyone should shut the fuck up and smile at their neighbours, look at the immensely beautiful sky or buy a croissant with chocolate on it.

drinking habitually equals drinking habit

ok so this is a poll for you, invisible and possibly non-existent reader:

how much is too much?

SSSeriously, we all love drinking for it’s medicinal properties, but why does that have to come at such a high cost? (the cost is, as you well know now that you’re over 25), guilt and self hate. plus other things that aren’t that important.

i feel bad about it. about drinking. i feel bad and i just can’t shake that bad feeling. i spend loads of time rationalizing and talking about how “civilized” the Europeans are because they don’t have a complex about it but it’s a bad patch job and i still feel like i should be defending myself.

it’s semi-new to me. i didn’t always feel bad. when i was slightly younger i believed alcohol was an awesomely perfect tool that could unleash your positive and (sometimes) socially optimistic creative energies while stifling your neuroses. and if anything went wrong (socially) i used to feel just moderately mystified. the mornings after regret of the present has replaced a foggy-eyed hilarity and wonderment at the things did under the influence of the past. it was like watching the most banal-rious movie ever every weekend except it was completely self-directed and when the movie was over so were the friendships. life moves fast when you have truth serum. any morning after pains were a direct result of my powers of consumption. what came out of my mouth was straight from god and i was soo entitled to publicizing my thoughts and acting on my impulses. so there.

now the nausea i experience is panic. the missing social dread of my youth has come back to get me like the ghost of jacob marley . it’s ugly and inescapable and hard to live with and i want it to go away so i can enjoy myself properly.

the reasons for my anxiety are the following:

1. experience and memory.

2. something i can’t quite put my finger on.

Those are pretty good reasons i think. just because you had an experience where you happened to misread a situation that resulted in you punching a stranger in the face and then had to be carried home by your best friend up hill through snow drifts while you told them how smart they thought they were and then puked all over their entire house and the only way you are still alive today is because they called telehealth ontario and woke you up every half hour of the night to give you a tablespoon of water which promptly made you puke even more doesn’t mean you should give up. learn whatever Aesop is holding for this one and move onto the next, right?

nobody likes a quitter.

and nobody’s quitting. unless they’re in some sort of functional relationship and working towards the type of adulthood that involves mortgages and babies. we lost them a while ago though, it just took us a really long time to figure that out. you probably think of your relationships with those friends in one of three ways:

1. as a reminder that you are only half-cooked.

2. as a reminder that you don’t buy into that kind of stuff.

3. as a reminder that your friends are a full-blooded group with lots of really interesting goals and ideas of happiness and you are super lucky to know so many cool people.

Number 1 has the ring of self-defeat. i know the reason why you (need to) drink daily/often and this could have something to do with it. Number 2 is exactly the same with a different strategy. Like we’re all so easy-going and it’s cool because we have so much to learn and experience and like maybe go back to school and travel before a ticket across the pond is $3500 and DO stuff and stuff but really the bottom line is that you are either married to a person OR alcohol and ‘experiences’. settled down or unsettled. and let’s be clear about this so you don’t get all up in my grill, i am not talking about going to a party with your girlfriend and maybe getting wasted once in a while and perhaps buying a bottle of wine for dinner once a week, i am talking about drinking as a part of your existence. as what you have with a meal regularly AND THEN going to a party and getting wasted once in a while. this is a two part system. differentiation (getting drunk) AND seamless lifestyle choice (daily casual). if you can’t tell me how much alcohol you’ve had over the past four days you’re in my club and you do feel bad about it because everyone else is all like, “oh, I just don’t really FEEL like drinking these days, y’know?…” and you’re supposed to say, “yeaaaaah. me too.” as if drinking a beer or a glass of wine needs to be preceded by a FEELING. drinking is DRINKING and not having a drink to them. and drinking is just living to you. and that differentiation that they do, that capitalizing is what makes you feel like you are so different and separate from them. because they associate DRINKING with being unsettled and they aren’t unsettled. they garden.

Number 3 is just whatever dude.

while we’re defining, let’s try another. NEEDING a drink. Needing a drink happens after something traumatic has occurred. Needing a drink doesn’t mean you are an alcoholic unless you really NEED a drink more than once a day. the operative word is “a”. singular. you should probably need a drink after a meeting with your boss.

HAVING a drink is what happens when you sit down socially with someone or are eating some food or both. having a drink is a very uncomplicated thing. having a drink isn’t lusting after it and then finally getting what you so greatly desire, it’s simple and normal and it’s the leg this whole rant stands on. having a drink should not be guilt-worthy. this is the separation. morning-after anxiety makes sense. total sense. getting retarded and then waking up and worrying that you said or did something hurtful or possibly dangerous makes you a caring and responsible grown-up (sort of). feeling like you’re living on the fringes of society because your daily intake is something around the 1.5-4 is annoying and stupid.

sex (in a pan) and the city

“As we drive along this road called life, occasionally a gal will find herself a little lost. And when that happens, I guess she has to let go of the coulda, shoulda, woulda, buckle up and just keep going.”

–Carrie Bradshaw

It was then that I realized… OR simply: i realized… OR: at that moment i realized…

Carrie Bradshaw is a one-dimensional character.

you either know it or you are deluding yourself. carrie bradshaw stands for lame fast firing one liners and faux witticism.wittiness.wit. she is situated as the female character you are MOST LIKELY TO IDENTIFY WITH because of the following things:

1. She is kinda funny (omg you are also “kinda funny”. shut the front door)

2. She is a hopeless romantic (but like she is confused sometimes and one guy is like awesome in this way, and one guy is awesome in this other way, and sometimes she makes mistakes but, like you, she means really well all the time but her feelings are just so powerful and she’s like such an idealist or whatever that people might get hurt and that is soo regretful. also she finds herself in the tragically uncommon position of being super in love with some guy who’s just not ready for that. dot dot dot)

3. She is independent.strong.but.vulnerable.on.the.inside

4. She loooooves fashion. you loove fashion too.

5. She is loyal and empathetic and understands her friends and their drawbacks but loves them anyway.

All of those things plus this (is a good one):

6. She is the main character. YOU are the main character. All of the other character options are somewhat less than one-dimensional if that’s possible and if anyone tells you that you are like Charlotte you will just totally know that they could never understand you and how complicated you are. Maybe just your persona around that person is a Charlotte because you are such a Carrie that you understand the way that person works and they are actually a Charlotte so you edit yourself and present as a Charlotte to make everything more comfortable for them because you know that they just like couldn’t handle you otherwise. YOU understand that and because you are so understanding YOU are able to live with the notion that ONLY YOU know that YOU ARE (a, one of them, not the only,) CARRIE.

those are pretty good reasons to identify with Carrie, if you need to watch that show because it gives you something you don’t get anywhere else. but still, did you notice that when she talks she really emphasizes certain words and narrates very slowly and deliberately to seem like she’s really working through her thoughts but if you actually listen to what she’s saying it’s like the popular girl from grade 6 is playing Barbie with you? and you should bloody well listen if you want her to like you and possibly invite you to her awesome birthdaypoolparty with Richard Desjardporche and Jeff Lambergini (the popular boys). Do not screw it up because your life depends on them liking you in a non-pitying capacity.

Four really adult women characters who are “strong” and “independent” spending all of there free time (and they have a lot) idly whining about their boyfriends or non-boyfriends or why they don’t HAVE a boyfriend or that guy over there and how they should or shouldn’t bed him is a very depressing thing. All of the men in the show are very occupied with their lives and careers and themselves, which is awesome for them, really awesome. and the women characters have all that stuff set up because they are smart, strong and career-minded (that’s why they have this really big problem on their hands, right. like if they weren’t so self absorbed they would be married by now obviously. like the family order is about sacrifice etc). and you apparently have to be really STRONG to be thirtylate and not be married. but the main character’s JOB is to whine and complain about men and obsess about the particular problem of modern love, and that sets up a very messy back-and-forth vortex of traditional/contemporary roles but magically solves both problems at the same time.

even the name is irritating. SEX and the city. whatever dude. like saying sex in the title somehow makes it more women-powerful like they’re all taking it back and stuff, strutting with confidence during the opening credits. that’s like when your mom makes a dessert that has sex in the title and she says it like it’s the baddest assed thing ever. SEX in a pan tee hee. whatever mom. i thought we were supposed to be over that sort of thing by now.

and then i realized/it hit me/at that moment i knew: We are supposed to be over that sort of thing by now. everyone says feminist like a memory of last winter–soo glad it’s over, don’t tell me it will happen again, geezus. it’s not over and everyone is confused about what they’re supposed to do. i have no idea. the boys are even more upset as far as i can tell.

“As we speed along this endless road to the destination called who we hope to be, I can’t help but whine, ‘Are we there yet?’”

–Carrie Bradshaw

Up next: I am beginning to feel like the grown-up version of a teen goth.

p.s.  no i did not see the movie.  leave me alone.

what is a blog

it is true that i am now thinking about the following things:

1. what is appropriate to include in a blog

2. what are the people interested in reading

3. is there enough coffee and should i make it before i write so that i can sip it comfortably while engaged in writing to complete the ritual and make it supercomfy

I have looked for the Answers in my Heart.

like many geniuses i am worried about compromising my art, and by extension myself, to appeal to the masses. i must remain true. if my sacred Ur is to be shared i cannot water it down for the sake of the reader’s comfort, no. that would be an insult to humanity and all that it can achieve through the fingers of it’s faithful dogs. it is my duty to bring my stuff pure and true. for the enrichment of our culture.

Direction is so Comforting.

because i have chosen true art over a mishmash of trendy ideas that vaguely remind one of adjectives like an Outcast song, you, distant and faceless reader, may not like this blogsite ever. i know. the truth is sometimes a hard piece of driftwood parched in the sun gasping for moisture or shade. the things you read, see and hear have been edited, reshaped and reframed so that you can connect with them and feel like you are not alone. i am no editor and everyone is alone.

I will be Satisfied.

in turn, i will be weakened by the deafening silence of disapproval, but i will cherish the knowledge that i am being faithful to that almighty muse, Impulse!

What my trip was like in terms of local weather and rituals

mostly it was sunny and hot. in the morning it was about 21 degrees. around 1 pm it got to be about 30 degrees and then it would usually climb up to 36 degrees until about 6 pm when it would start to cool down again. in the shade it was cooler. it was dry every day except for two when it tried to rain. it is true that the rain in Spain stays mainly in the plains, and not as some people would think, in Madrid.

the interesting thing about the dryness was that it would clumpify the mucus in your nose. every day everyone had dry boogers in their nose and it was really satisfying to get it out as a private ritual in the bathroom.

Spain is sort of good for rituals, mainly because everyone used to be really Catholic. and they stick with things unless it’s apparent that it’s really not working and then they throw the whole thing out and start again. i like how the Spanish oscillate between Socialism and Conservatism. right now the majority of their Ministers are female. that’s neat.

in Spain, you get up around 9, have a coffee and a pastry, go to do whatever you do until about 1 or 2, get some lunch, have a drink at a bar that’s been open since 1827, (you can change the order of the drinks and lunch if you want), have a lay down or just quiet time, get up around 5, go out to the Plaza and have a drink and eat some tapas and watch people, go do whatever you do until 9, eat some dinner, go out for a drink at a bar that celebrates bullfighters and opened in 1846, go for a walk or do whatever you do until about 1, then go to bed. it’s very civilized and everyone walks upright and doesn’t seem to be bracing themselves against the cold no matter what the current temperature is.

the Spanish don’t have fear in their eyes.

Spanish hours of operation enforce the above schedule. the stores open at 10 and close at 2, the bars open at 2, the stores open again at 5 and close at 9, the restaurants open at 8:30 and close at 12.

AAND if you don’t want to go to a bar after working all morning, you can go to the grocery store and buy a bottle of wine for 1.5 Euro or a beer for 0.6 Euro. a loaf of bread is 0.5 Euro and a big carton of gazpacho is 3.5 Euro. the only drawback to this diet is stomach pain. but if you do go to the bar and order a drink they will just give you food. really good free food. not a lot. but enough to tide you over until 5 or so when it’s tapas time.

some of the food they are likely to give you for free are:

1. Tortilla. not as you know it. tortilla is a thick omelet cooked perfectly with slices of potatoes in it. usually this comes on a piece of thick white bread.

2. Olives (Aceitunas). like a big plate of them. and sometimes they’ve been sharing a jar with those pickled onions that you like but feel a little weird about, and that makes them taste better.

3. Chorizo. spanish sausage of awesome. usually sliced lengthwise on a piece of thick white bread. everything comes on white bread (pan) actually. except olives.

4. Anchovies (Anchoas). with tomatoes on bread.

5. Cured ham (Jamon de Serrano). on bread.