TUESDAY, FEB 26, 2002 - The Emperor Has No Clogs
I'm one of those men that doesn't really fit into any fashion category.
Too old to wear Tommy and too straight for Prada,
I'm stuck in the middle between bell bottoms and man-clogs; where chinos
and button-down oxfords make me indistinguishable from the next business-casual
drone. "Fashion forward" is not how my friends would describe
me, and I own no leather pants.
Three summers ago, I discovered Mexx, a German boutique in Montreal, which allowed me to toe the line. Unfortunately, Mexx doesn't offer e-commerce or catalog sales outside of Germany. Bastards.
So, that's where you'll find me for a few hours during Jazzfest this July. My goal to avoid the hefty Canadian sales tax thwarted, I'll be bouncing my shoulders to techno surrounded by hip Montrealers. Oh, Cananda... enjoy my small contribution to universal healthcare.
MONDAY, FEB 25, 2002
The Bartletts were in town this weekend. They brought the two cutest,
slobbering twins you've ever seen. I wrestled, tickled, rocked, coo-ed,
baby-talked, and chased them for two days. Then I gave them back.
Jen has explicit instructions not to get any ideas.
WEDNESDAY, FEB 20, 2002 - The Red Zone
Late this afternoon, I found myself staring at a map of the United States.
As my eyes drew imaginary lines, I realized that there was almost no place
on it that I hadn't been to, or specific places that I wanted to go. Then
it hit me. Think back to the longest election night. Barring the population
centers, the remaining 90% of CNN's map was covered in red. That's Bush
country.
Yikes, that's no place for a Chinaman. Korean. Whatever.
MONDAY, FEB 18, 2002 - Pictures of Maine
We honored our past presidents by engaging in retail commerce at the outlet
stores of Kittery, ME. Jen and I drove one hour and fifteen minutes north
to get away from Boston only to be mocked by Mass plates and matching
track suits.
Maine has two reputations. The first is picturesque Rockwellian images of granite coasts and lighthouses shared by most of the country. Hearty lobsterman toil the day away, later returning to their women folk who have knit wool sweaters and slow-cooked the sea's bounty in an equally hearty chowder.
The second, held by the remaining five New England states, considers it Northeastern Indiana. Men marry their one-toothed sisters who also drive rusty pickup trucks. People there are kind of... slow.
I've never understood this reputation. The folks of the Pine Tree State happen to very nice. And I'd take them any day over most of metro-Boston and certainly Rhode Island.
Factoid: If you didn't know, Maine has the whitest population in the Union. Yes, more than Wyoming and Idaho.
Factoid: Maine produces 99% of the country's blueberries.
Factoid: Northern Maine is influenced by the French. The Southern, "R" dropping accent is called Down East.
What do the tourist brochures say about your state or province?
FRIDAY, FEB 15, 2002
Well, it was bound to happen. The one person in six billion that
I didn't want to know about this blog, now does.
Not a word. Not a fucking word. I don't want to hear it.
THURSDAY, FEB 14, 2002 - Lovers at the Kitchen Table
Me: You know, I'm running out of things to write in cards for you.
Jen: You mean like the "-day" cards: birthday, Valentine's day, Christmas day?
Me: Exactly. Do you think it'd be OK if I came in on a three year rotating cycle?
Jen: NO-ooo! You don't even have to buy me cards anymore. You can just write me a letter. You used to write the most beautiful love letters; when you actually loved me.
Me: Yeah, but I've just run out of things to say to you. Letters *pfff* the kiss of death. Those things are work.
Jen: You?!! You're the yappy one. I'm the quiet one. You will never run out of things to say. It'll always be that way.
Me: You're lucky you're out of my reach. Otherwise, I'd do the snake technique** on you.
I polish off her glass of water and set it down with defiance, "Ahhhh!"
Jen: Heeey!
Me: That's for making dinner so salty last night, then finishing off the soda without saving me any.
Jen: Oh, what's up, Mr. Hold-a-Grudge
Later
Jen: You know, you're lucky I married you. You know why? Because no one else would HAVE you. *finger stab to the chest*
Me: *gut grabbing laughter* I got nuthin'. Point... Jen.
She snatched the Reese's peanut butter cups out of my hand, mid-bite. Put. That. Chocolate. Down. Chocolate is for closers!
You too can be THIS in love, folks. On occasion Jen's taken to calling me an ass-munching fuck face. My wife rules, dude. I mean, how do you respond to that?
**Snake Technique - Pretend like you're holding a knuckle ball. Undulate your hand as if the head. Snake noises optional, but roundly encouraged. Fire it into the solar plexus with a satisfying thud.
Now, run like bloody hell. You are going to pay for that, you ass-munching fuck face!
WEDNESDAY, FEB 13, 2002 - Who Peed in My Cheerios?: Ten Ways to Make Me Surly
1) Ask me to send you those TPS reports. Again.
Dude, I've e-mailed them to you, hard copied you - twice, and read you specifics over the phone and in passing.
2) Show astonishment as you ask, "we have a Website?"
3) When I forward you the comps you requested, you ask, "P... D... F...? What's that?"
4) E-mail me this: Sorry but I have the SULFNBK.EXE virus. Please forward this to everyone you know.
5) Be this pesky person: Hi, Mr. Choi... This is Tom Jones of XYZ Vendor Consulting Agency Firm, and I would like to talk to you about how we rule and your existing service provider sucks. Let me send you some literature, so that I can follow-up once a week for the next 52.
Mr. Choi?!! Way to date yourself... F-Rank. I wouldn't buy magazines from a cold caller. Do you really think I'm going to put you on retainer?
[read more]
TUESDAY, FEB 12, 2002 - Last
Night's Dinner
Like Amy, I read Fast
Food Nation and was completely disgusted- so disgusted that I haven't
had fast food in a month. Well once, but it wasn't enjoyable, I'll tell
you.
My problem is that I crave it sometimes; especially the spicy chicken sandwich from Wendy's. From the grave, Dave Thomas, from the grave...
Here's my version of it. Be sure to have Safety Kleen come in and hose your whole kitchen down, afterwards.
Or, your can just go buy the sandwich. Your call, dude.
Sandwich Ingredients
2 good size chicken breasts (1 lb)
1 tomato ripened by the sunshine of your smile
1 head of ice berg lettuce
2 onion rolls
2 quarts of vegetable or sunflower oil
3 eggs (beaten, optional)
2 bottles of Tabasco or hot sauce
A little mayo
Dry ingredients
3 cups of flour
1 Tbs paprika
1 Tbs cheyenne pepper
1 Tbs Lawry's Seasoning Salt
1/2 Tbs black pepper
Accompaniment
1 large yellow onion for rings
Things you'll need
3 cookie sheets
2 large mixing bowls
1 brownie pan
paper towels and plates
1 wok or deep braising pan.
Stage 1
Mix the dry ingredients in the brownie pan. They should have a slight
pink hue. Add this or that to taste.
Cut and wash the lettuce and tomatoes and set aside in the fridge. Heat the oil on low in the wok and continue prepping.
Stage 2 (optional for onion rings)
Peel and clean the outer skin of onion. Cut the onion into 1 inch round
slices. Separate them into individual rings.
Stage 3
Clean and trim the chicken. If the breasts are large, you can cut each
in half and butterfly cut on each piece.
Stage 4
Set your cookie sheets up side by side, lengthwise. Left, bowl, Tabasco;
Middle, brownie pan, dry mix; Right, bowl, egg wash. Mix the onions, a
few at time into a bowl of Tabasco until coated. Put them into the dry
mix and coat thoroughly. *Optional* Then dip into egg wash and re-coat
with flour. This little trick will produce "extra crispy". I,
of course, exercised this option. Oh goodie!
Now do the same with the chicken. I find it helpful to leave the water trickling to wash my hands because the dough makes a mess, and the texture of raw chicken is, well, NASTY. Set it aside for now. They taste even better if you chill them for an hour or so after being floured.
Test to see if the oil is ready by wetting your hands and flicking the excess into the oil. Stand back. If it crackles, you're ready. Blast the heat, dude.
Stage 5
Carefully drop the chicken into the hot oil. Cook it until it floats and
turns a deep brown. I cheat by cutting a piece to make sure the juice
is clear. When it's done, put them on a plate with paper towels to rest.
They'll continue cooking for a few minutes there. Now drop the onion rings.
Cook them until they float. Drain them on a paper towel.
3 additional tips
• Cut the chicken into strip or cubes for chicken fingers or nuggets.
Dip into blue cheese.
• Wash your hands a lot. It gets pretty ugly.
MONDAY, FEB 11, 2002
Tickets to Savannah, GA have been confirmed. I'm looking forward to leaving
Boston for a short while.
* * *
Anyone catch that interview with Gene Simmons and Terry Gross on Fresh Air the other day? Boy, Gene's kind of a dick isn't he? You can download the interview (via textism)
requirements: 25MB and 27 minutes
FRIDAY, FEB 8, 2002
Old lady in the late model Ford LTD, I salute you. Your slight stature
and blue hair barely show over wrinkled fingers clutching the wheel. You
observe every traffic law, though fickle with your turn signal. You will
not pass the bus regardless of the gap that's one and a half times your
car's width. You happily hum along to the radio on your way to church,
or the market, or to bingo. You turn onto Broadway.
What the...? Old lady in the tan Ford Taurus, I salute you...
* * *
Someone won't leave you alone? Give them "your" number: 212-479-7990. The official New York rejection line. (rejectionline.com via NPR)
THURSDAY, FEB 7, 2002
I'm ready to order a mob hit on my cable ISP. They have discontinued my
high speed service and claim they have no records of my internet service.
Ummm... I've had this same e-mail address for almost three years at three
separate addresses. It seems counter intuitive that each time my ISP is
swallowed by an even larger, deeper-pocketed mega-media giant the service
gets worse. I have to go through this every twelve months.
In any case, I may not be able to post for a week until I can work this out.
SUNDAY, FEB 3, 2002
PATS WIN! PATS WIN!!!. Oh my God! Tomorrow's going to be a difficult day.
I was talking shit all last week about how Marshall Faulk was going to
light 'em up. Strangely, he was quiet, and now I have egg on my face.
Hey, what do I know? I was at the game that Bledsoe got hurt. By the time I stopped watching the season, the Pats were 5 - 5; hardly Superbowl bound.
I'm not a true football fan, but man, was that a fun game to watch!
FRIDAY, FEB 1, 2002 - Kai-bashing
Words such as kibosh
migrate from person to person and from office to office like an e-mailed
chain letter. When it's around, you're likely to hear it one or two times
a day for a week, and then *poof*, it's gone.
Its pronunciation and spelling stand out in English like few others. Though its etymology is unknown, disputes over its German, Irish, or Yiddish descent still remain unresolved*. Besides all that, kibosh sounds pretty cool to say. That's the thing-- coolness happens to be its very un-doing. I don't hear this word often, but when I do, it's more cloying than the smell of a Dunkin Donuts after 5 minutes.
Words like kibosh are special. They should be preserved, relished even, as they roll off the tongue to the speaker's delight and the listener's envy. Instead, they're tossed about carelessly as if a bottomless well of these great words exists. In reality, the end result reflects only the word's diluted power.
So the next time you hear words like kibosh being casually slung around the office, resist the urge to join in. Doubly holds true for ultra-jargony phrases, but that's for different reasons. Squash it, or more accurately, quash it. Put the kibosh on kibosh.
* Source 1. Source 2. Source 3.
