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Naked with?

Two stories:

When I was 10, I caught a fly ball to the face playing Little League baseball. Broke my nose up pretty bad. I didn’t like baseball. I barely knew the mechanics of the game. I was playing baseball because I was told I SHOULD play baseball. Years later, every time I look in a mirror and see my nose pointing off to the left and my drooping eyelid, I remember baseball. Baseball – which I don’t like.

Flash forward. Paula Deen recently took a ham to the nose. I haven’t verified this, but I’m pretty sure she LIKES ham. My guess is that she’s all over that sh**. (Especially if it’s slathered with butter and mayonnaise.)And she caught one with her face. Why? Because she had immersed herself into doing what she loves. And apparently, what she loves occasionally involves a flying chunk of pork. So now, every time Paula Deen looks in a mirror and sees her swollen beak, she thinks: “I do like my pork. Where’s the butter?” I very much doubt she thinks, “My God, how did I get stuck here?”

So what’s my point? No regrets.

Every day we seem to be regaled with stories about things we should feel “guilty” about – “fatty foods”, “empty calories”, production farming, sugar, caffeine…. Since when are we supposed to keep tally sheets on everything we do, reconciling “guilt” points at the end of every day? Geez, lighten up. Between being “politically correct” and taking responsibility for everything that’s bad in the world (regardless of who or what is responsible), this place just ain’t fun no more.

Naked with: is all about leaving behind the insecurities, guilt and inhibitions that we’ve been indoctrinated with and that often prevent us from getting up close and personal with something or someone. Finding something we love and taking a deep dive at it, from all angles. Letting things make us HAPPY – no matter what. Enjoying life. No regrets, no missed opportunities.

Plus if it doesn’t work out, we can always turn ‘em into porn sites….

Who we are


A former freelance tugboat pilot until his license was pulled by the Boston Harbormaster, Dave fled to the warmer climes of Atlanta where he began holding informal lectures on the virtues of pork fat. His lengthy monologues were poorly attended – perhaps because they were held in his kitchen while wearing a bathrobe; perhaps because no one was actually invited. Deciding that the most viable outlet for modern Southern literature would be a blog about ethnic food, Dave acknowledged his unstable psyche and declared himself the “Gary Busey of Buford Highway” and created EatBufordHighway.com - an insignificant and ill-conceived rant about – well, not much at all.


Has a great job that bores her to tears. Wants to be a: cultural explorer, foodie, hands on researcher, world traveler and accidentally independently wealthy. In practise, Beth ”just finds stuff and writes about it.” Not an expert, just an inquiring mind with a value on variety and sharing what she finds. Wide range of interests, degrees in Chemical Engineering, Behavioral Science, and Broadcast Communications. To pay the bills, Beth has been a soy sauce taster;  magician’s assistant; TV weather girl; radio/TV news broadcaster; sold shoes; Product Development scientist in diaper research; and currently writes technical training materials for manufacturing. All of which really means that if you’re playing Trivial Pursuit, you want Beth on your team!

(Why is this beginning to sound like a dating site profile?)

Beth is attempting to eat her way around the world without ever leaving Buford Highway. She also writes about Atlanta for Examiner.com: Atlanta Ethnic Foods and Atlanta Ethnic Restaurants, organizes cooking classes, and is working on some ebooks. Most notably, Beth recently learned to walk and chew gum. When not eating in Atlanta, she travels to different countries and eats their food: 2009 was Egypt, Spain, The Czech Republic, Portugal. 2010: Ireland, Alaska, Machu Picchu and the Galapagos Islands.

This blog is Plan B, so if it doesn’t work out, Beth will practice her juggling skills and finally learn to ride that unicycle in the basement, then run off to join the circus.

Now, if I can only learn to ride it....

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