My post from yesterday regarding current cable tv shows has stirred a few interesting arguments from the likes of Mon Pere and BeachBum...I'm sure there's more to follow from the western contingent as well.
I do agree with BeachBum in terms of there being some very intelligent and thought-provoking programs that have come to air over the last several years. I was a very loyal watcher of Alias and I can say the same about Lost...JJ Abrams does good work. But the culmination of my frustration with television lies in that new reality show on FOX where contestants are basically paid to tell the truth. "The Moment of Truth" is a fucking joke. I watched a very small portion of one of the episodes and as far as discomfort is concerned, this show can certainly be put ahead of the rest of the pack of reality tv. I squirmed for the contestant, his wife and his friends that were in his contingent on stage.
This show is absolutely outrageous, but the creator is a genius because the show must have an immense draw from the average American viewer that thrives on watching other people struggle with morals and values as they try to win a million dollars. Forget knowledge and intelligence as a means to wealth, why not pay people that can be brutally honest at the risk of ruining every other institution in that person's life? Sounds like a sure shot for the American public. With questions about thoughts of infidelity, impurity, dishonesty in the workplace, mischievous behavior socially; there are enough oohs and ahhs from the audience to make a porno producer foam at the mouth.
I guess most reality tv hinges up on the embarrassment of its contestants to be the main attraction. '5th Grader', 'Idol', "Biggest Loser', etc. They're all the same. Sure, the contestants know what they're in for when they sign up to be on the show. And again, the creators are smart enough to know what the money makers are nowadays. But I don't have to like it. The best reality television is on the Discovery Channel, the Food Network and the Learning Channel because at least you can walk away from them with a sense of having gained something from the material. At the risk of sounding hokey and domesticated, my television viewing has been relegated to Food Network and sports.
29 January 2008
28 January 2008
Look, A Wagon Wheel.
The recent talk of Salute Your Shorts in the comment section of the last post has lead to a few realizations. One, TV sucks. It used to be so much better, and I really miss some of the shows that I grew up with. Two, I loved that Time for Timer commercial...hankering for a hunk of cheese. I'm pretty sure Family Guy spoofed that commercial in an episode, which was unreal. Here's a brief list of shows I'd love to see back on tv. I mean, if Nick at Nite is going to play reruns of Who's the Boss, why can't they broaden those parameters to a few shows that were actually worth watching? Granted, when Alyssa Milano eventually sprouted on that show, it was nearly worth watching. Ahh yes, fond memories of being a pre-pubescent boy.
1. Danger Mouse.
Come on now. Characters names Pinfold, Baron Von Greenback...this is the single greatest cartoon of all time...well, maybe it's a tie between DM and Ren and Stimpy.
2. Ren and Stimpy
Who can forget Ren's beloved ice cream bar? Our supplies are dangerously low...fortunately, we had to eat what was left of the ship. The reason why your boyfriend doesn't love is...is probably because you're too styoopid. Sure, I'm randomly quoting episodes but who cares. What about Powdered Toast Man? Good Lord.
3. Salute Your Shorts
'Nuff said in the comments for the previous post. Donkey Lips had the greatest lisp of all time.
Plus his name was Donkey Lips. Amazing.
4. You Can't Do That On Television
Blue skies, Barfy Burgers, GIRLS...hey, it's where Alanis got her start. Little did she know that having slime dumped on her would be the highlight of her career.
5. Yo! MTV Raps
May this show rest in peace. Where's Flav?
1. Danger Mouse.
Come on now. Characters names Pinfold, Baron Von Greenback...this is the single greatest cartoon of all time...well, maybe it's a tie between DM and Ren and Stimpy.
2. Ren and Stimpy
Who can forget Ren's beloved ice cream bar? Our supplies are dangerously low...fortunately, we had to eat what was left of the ship. The reason why your boyfriend doesn't love is...is probably because you're too styoopid. Sure, I'm randomly quoting episodes but who cares. What about Powdered Toast Man? Good Lord.
3. Salute Your Shorts
'Nuff said in the comments for the previous post. Donkey Lips had the greatest lisp of all time.
Plus his name was Donkey Lips. Amazing.
4. You Can't Do That On Television
Blue skies, Barfy Burgers, GIRLS...hey, it's where Alanis got her start. Little did she know that having slime dumped on her would be the highlight of her career.
5. Yo! MTV Raps
May this show rest in peace. Where's Flav?
23 January 2008
Gym Dandy? Not Always.
Fridays are always good days, no matter where I am, where I have to be or what I need to do. The gym is a wonderful place on Fridays because most of the regulars at my gym choose not to work out on these days. What does this mean for me? For one, I don't have to sift through a sea of hairy, chubby asses and dangling phalluses in the locker room when I need to shower and get dressed in a timely manner.
I usually don't mind waiting for a treadmill or for any given weight contraption to open up on the gym floor because there's never a lack of options to replace the occupied option. But the locker room is a different beast; it's often times a beast that I don't like to tangle with, for an amalgam of reasons. Thus...
I usually don't mind waiting for a treadmill or for any given weight contraption to open up on the gym floor because there's never a lack of options to replace the occupied option. But the locker room is a different beast; it's often times a beast that I don't like to tangle with, for an amalgam of reasons. Thus...
1. Close quarters in the locker room are not for the faint of heart. You've got to be adherent to several rules, regardless of the situation, time of day, what have you. I don't break these rules, and most of them are akin to the Urinal Etiquette Regulations (see prior posts for a refresher).
1a. Eyes forward, up or down. No one appreciates a wandering eye in the locker room. Here's what happens when a dude is caught peering outside of his world: rumors start to surface about his sexuality, no matter what. Perhaps he was looking for an open space to blow dry his jumblies, who knows. But he's now attracted to men. It's just how it goes.
1b. Conversation must be kept to a minimum in there. Beyond the usual "excuse me", or "my bad, dude", keep your mouth shut and just do your business. I've noticed that every time two guys are having a conversation, it's just a little weird. Ever seen that Entourage where Eric is in the locker room with Josh Weinstein and Weinstein asks him, "Not a locker room guy?" Waht exactly is a "locker room guy"? A dude who likes to be in the presence of several sausages? I don't want to be lumped into this category...don't know about you. Which leads me to the next point...
1c. Everyone who showers in the locker room needs to be nude at some point, preferably either in the shower or directly in front of your locker. Why then, do some guys feel like the need to walk around sans towel when it's just not necessary? I do this at home sometimes, but it's MY HOME. And I can't recall a time when I changed next to another dude. There's only one person I'll change in front of happily. On the other end of this, I don't subscribe the theory of showering in a bathing suit at the gym. I think that's taking it a little too far, but homophobes are as they are. I can't blame them, I guess. But a part of me feels like these dudes are the same ones who wear a t-shirt in the pool.
1d. The lockers are close together and the room is usually packed at 8am. It is not necessary to spread your towel on the floor, covering the area of several lockers. There are spacial regulations...in front of your locker, spanning the width of the locker. I don't want your stinky socks near my feet, nor do I want to feel the residual spray from your Gold Bond powder as you pat your balls down. I can appreciate the cooling, soothing feeling of Gold Bond as much as the next guy, yes. But keep it to yourself.
1e. If you go for a steam before you shower, leaving your shit in one of the showers is not indicative of you 'saving' that shower. You can't save a shower, nor can you save a sink. I mean, really. Is this summer camp? We're not at Camp Anawanna, Donkey Lips (name the TV Show...please, someone get this reference). If you leave your shit in the shower to claim it, expect to see that shit on the floor in a pool of piss and lungies. (not mine...that's just what gathers on the locker room floor from time to time)
I just feel like I pay too much money to have to deal with some of the locker room antics that go on daily at the gym. On another note, any reason why the towels they provide are the size of hand towels? And they're about as thick as a paper towel, which is just silly. I have to use three different towels to dry my balls, for pete's sake. What can I say, I'm a little OCD about them being totally and utterly dry.
You'll notice I now have a new logo for the blog, thanks to my brother Mike. He sent me this pic last Friday...apparently he was making a sandwich and as he applied le moutarde, he thought it would be an appropriate logo. I concur.
22 January 2008
Deep Thoughts
Leo the Lion, seen here at the National Zoo in Washington DC this afternoon, was in a reflective state upon hearing about the death of Heath Ledger earlier today. The two briefly worked together in 1997 on the FOX television show Roar. Shown in the photo with a bone, the lion would not comment on whether or not he and Ledger had ever shared a bone together; it is supposed that Ledger's death was drug-related.
16 January 2008
Gilbert for President
When I've seen the err in my ways (blogs), I've tried to make amends and thus, I am going to attempt this again.
A-hem...let me clear my throat, first...ok.
I would like to present a formal apology to my dear friend JG/Gilbert/Johnny Boy, whom I wrongfully accused of leaving a senseless, brainless, dickless comment on the post "Mirepoix". I believe I went as far as to offer that he hang himself, which may or may not have been over the line for just about anyone. John, please avoid the gallows going forward. I see no reason why you should cease to exist.
You see folks, John is cut from a cloth of genuine, fine fabric that is rich in moral fiber...abundant in ethical material. Only those without a pair of testicles might leave a belittling, anonymous comment on a blog (aside from family members/close friends who have good reason). I assure you, Mr. Gilbert possesses a healthy pair of nuts. Go ahead, make fun. I only know this because he has spawned two (and counting) healthy children, with help from Nina of course. Also, the locker room at Winter, Wyman and Companies is a tight squeeze. This also happens to be the reason why I know that there are a few ethnic individuals over at 950 Winter that are simply horrible at hygiene. Perhaps ESL courses can start to include a piece on hygiene, or how to effectively wash oneself. Look, I don't care that other cultures are unique and have grossly different views/ways of life/beliefs/what have you. I'm open-minded, liberal, etc. I just don't tolerate stink in terms of humans. Unless you're just not financially able to wash, you have no excuse. Get in the shower or bath and scrub. WITH SOAP.
Alright, Johnny. Is that enough? Have I undone this indignification of yore? You're my idol, ok? I strive to be like you.
One person I do not strive to be like: Igor Olshansky. I wouldn't be surprised if he left the recent anonymous comment on the blog, because this man does not have a brain. He'll get his on Sunday. All I'm sayin.
My new love is the handicap bathroom at 75 State St, 9th floor. Nevermind the high seat, the obstacle-free TP holders or the fact that there's always reading material in there (you can always find TMQ in there on a Tuesday morning...simply a great piece of toilet reading since it's always loquacious and inane). There's a machine in there that dispenses a) napkins, and b) tampons. Figure that one out. I figure that this caters to two sets: the bathroom eater, whom I've discussed before; and distressed girl that totally spazzed on coming to work with a fully-stocked purse. That reminds me, purse? Is that ok? What about pocketbook?
A-hem...let me clear my throat, first...ok.
I would like to present a formal apology to my dear friend JG/Gilbert/Johnny Boy, whom I wrongfully accused of leaving a senseless, brainless, dickless comment on the post "Mirepoix". I believe I went as far as to offer that he hang himself, which may or may not have been over the line for just about anyone. John, please avoid the gallows going forward. I see no reason why you should cease to exist.
You see folks, John is cut from a cloth of genuine, fine fabric that is rich in moral fiber...abundant in ethical material. Only those without a pair of testicles might leave a belittling, anonymous comment on a blog (aside from family members/close friends who have good reason). I assure you, Mr. Gilbert possesses a healthy pair of nuts. Go ahead, make fun. I only know this because he has spawned two (and counting) healthy children, with help from Nina of course. Also, the locker room at Winter, Wyman and Companies is a tight squeeze. This also happens to be the reason why I know that there are a few ethnic individuals over at 950 Winter that are simply horrible at hygiene. Perhaps ESL courses can start to include a piece on hygiene, or how to effectively wash oneself. Look, I don't care that other cultures are unique and have grossly different views/ways of life/beliefs/what have you. I'm open-minded, liberal, etc. I just don't tolerate stink in terms of humans. Unless you're just not financially able to wash, you have no excuse. Get in the shower or bath and scrub. WITH SOAP.
Alright, Johnny. Is that enough? Have I undone this indignification of yore? You're my idol, ok? I strive to be like you.
One person I do not strive to be like: Igor Olshansky. I wouldn't be surprised if he left the recent anonymous comment on the blog, because this man does not have a brain. He'll get his on Sunday. All I'm sayin.
My new love is the handicap bathroom at 75 State St, 9th floor. Nevermind the high seat, the obstacle-free TP holders or the fact that there's always reading material in there (you can always find TMQ in there on a Tuesday morning...simply a great piece of toilet reading since it's always loquacious and inane). There's a machine in there that dispenses a) napkins, and b) tampons. Figure that one out. I figure that this caters to two sets: the bathroom eater, whom I've discussed before; and distressed girl that totally spazzed on coming to work with a fully-stocked purse. That reminds me, purse? Is that ok? What about pocketbook?
14 January 2008
Mirepoix
You're about to get the carrots, celery and green onions in the following soup-esque blog. It'll have some basic ingredients but in the end, they'll all come together to form some sort of cohesive entry that may or may leave a good taste in your mouth; depending on who you are and what you be.
Today is as follows: It's a veritable snow globe out there. Ipso facto, I feel as though I'm trapped in a snow globe as some douche bag little kid continually shakes the thing vigorously. But I'm not dizzy...as I might be if I was in fact inside a shaken snow globe. Today's Nor'easter didn't hit at the right time for me. Had it been a little shittier when I left the gym this morning, I may have been able to justify a snow day. However, there just wasn't enough on the ground for that to be ok. Nonetheless, plenty of people from my office didn't show up, claiming they'd 'work from home'. I love this. Granted, I can probably be found guilty of the same things but so far today, those who 'worked from home' have replaced 'work' with 'watched soap operas and ate junk food', as well as 'played with self' and 'picked nose'. Working from home in terms of snow days is a farce. Just call in and be honest. I mean, for one thing, you won't be deemed a big liar by your peers when we eventually find out that you're not working at all. You'll more than likely be revered for saying you'll be doing absolutely nothing all day and that we shouldn't bother to contact you.
Has it been a while since my last post? I know its been a fairly significant amount of time since I've written when my father emails me that it's time to post something. I have realized that most of my blog posts consist of several ideas that never really warranted an entry of their own; thus, they become part of a mirepoix.
I've just devised a foolproof plan to make money. Hatch, a guy I work with, stopped over and said he is seriously thinking about making a t-shirt that shows a pickle inside a circle with a line through it...he hates pickles, and thinks he could sell a t-shirt stating this same feeling and people would buy it. I love pickles, so I offered to him that if I made a t-shirt that said "I love pickles", it would be more profitable. So maybe we can make both and ensure that there would be a market for at least one of the t-shirts. I am of the school of thought that more people love pickles than hate them. What say you? Might I point out that both Lauren and I drank the juice from a container of cornichons this weekend....and it wasn't my idea. Thus, we invented the cornichontini, which is a dirty martini with the juice from cornichons instead of olives.
Another product of this weekend/conversations with Lauren was the collective realization the blessing someone after a sneeze is just ridiculous. I was reluctant to post this part because I recently found out that Dane Cook has a bit on this very thing...but fuck it. I'm not a big Dane Cook fan anyway. So apparently Lauren has always kind of had an issue with blessing people following a sneeze and after talking about it yesterday, I have to agree. And the way I see it, should we therefore be offering some sort of pardon or blessing after a fart? A cough? A burp? On one hand, I think the world would probably be a better place if a fart were a socially forgivable offense, like a sneeze is. I know I'd be a lot happier...I wouldn't constantly have to hold in my gas and take the occasional trip to the men's room, just to pass the built-up gas. I gotta say, most dudes in the men's room don't feel good about the guy who comes in, farts and leaves.
If you don't want to read about football, skip this paragraph. Let me start off by saying that the playoffs were shaped up to feature the 4 best QB's in the league in the championship games: Brady v. Manning II and Romo v. Favre. (I only say 'II' for Brady-Manning because of the AFC title game last season) I was pulling for those matchups and I was let down. I hate the Giants, especially Eli Manning. He doesn't belong in the NFC championship game...I'm not even sure he belongs as a starter on any team in this league. Sure, I haven't seen him play all that much, but I really don't like him and that's enough, in my opinion. Romo played well, but not well enough...especially for the investment that was made in him by the Cowboys. As I've said from the very beginning, this guy is NOT what most people say he is. He's a serviceable quarterback, but he's not a superstar and he's not the 3rd best QB in the league. He's got some serious talent around him and the Cowboys should have handled the Giants. I can't see him taking that team to the pinnacle of pro football. I just can't. That being said, Tom Brady. I'm not going to toot the Pats horn here, but I feel it necessary to mention Brady. Again. His performance on Saturday was (insert adjective synonymous with tremendous here). There, I've created my first mad lib.
That's all I've got today.
Today is as follows: It's a veritable snow globe out there. Ipso facto, I feel as though I'm trapped in a snow globe as some douche bag little kid continually shakes the thing vigorously. But I'm not dizzy...as I might be if I was in fact inside a shaken snow globe. Today's Nor'easter didn't hit at the right time for me. Had it been a little shittier when I left the gym this morning, I may have been able to justify a snow day. However, there just wasn't enough on the ground for that to be ok. Nonetheless, plenty of people from my office didn't show up, claiming they'd 'work from home'. I love this. Granted, I can probably be found guilty of the same things but so far today, those who 'worked from home' have replaced 'work' with 'watched soap operas and ate junk food', as well as 'played with self' and 'picked nose'. Working from home in terms of snow days is a farce. Just call in and be honest. I mean, for one thing, you won't be deemed a big liar by your peers when we eventually find out that you're not working at all. You'll more than likely be revered for saying you'll be doing absolutely nothing all day and that we shouldn't bother to contact you.
Has it been a while since my last post? I know its been a fairly significant amount of time since I've written when my father emails me that it's time to post something. I have realized that most of my blog posts consist of several ideas that never really warranted an entry of their own; thus, they become part of a mirepoix.
I've just devised a foolproof plan to make money. Hatch, a guy I work with, stopped over and said he is seriously thinking about making a t-shirt that shows a pickle inside a circle with a line through it...he hates pickles, and thinks he could sell a t-shirt stating this same feeling and people would buy it. I love pickles, so I offered to him that if I made a t-shirt that said "I love pickles", it would be more profitable. So maybe we can make both and ensure that there would be a market for at least one of the t-shirts. I am of the school of thought that more people love pickles than hate them. What say you? Might I point out that both Lauren and I drank the juice from a container of cornichons this weekend....and it wasn't my idea. Thus, we invented the cornichontini, which is a dirty martini with the juice from cornichons instead of olives.
Another product of this weekend/conversations with Lauren was the collective realization the blessing someone after a sneeze is just ridiculous. I was reluctant to post this part because I recently found out that Dane Cook has a bit on this very thing...but fuck it. I'm not a big Dane Cook fan anyway. So apparently Lauren has always kind of had an issue with blessing people following a sneeze and after talking about it yesterday, I have to agree. And the way I see it, should we therefore be offering some sort of pardon or blessing after a fart? A cough? A burp? On one hand, I think the world would probably be a better place if a fart were a socially forgivable offense, like a sneeze is. I know I'd be a lot happier...I wouldn't constantly have to hold in my gas and take the occasional trip to the men's room, just to pass the built-up gas. I gotta say, most dudes in the men's room don't feel good about the guy who comes in, farts and leaves.
If you don't want to read about football, skip this paragraph. Let me start off by saying that the playoffs were shaped up to feature the 4 best QB's in the league in the championship games: Brady v. Manning II and Romo v. Favre. (I only say 'II' for Brady-Manning because of the AFC title game last season) I was pulling for those matchups and I was let down. I hate the Giants, especially Eli Manning. He doesn't belong in the NFC championship game...I'm not even sure he belongs as a starter on any team in this league. Sure, I haven't seen him play all that much, but I really don't like him and that's enough, in my opinion. Romo played well, but not well enough...especially for the investment that was made in him by the Cowboys. As I've said from the very beginning, this guy is NOT what most people say he is. He's a serviceable quarterback, but he's not a superstar and he's not the 3rd best QB in the league. He's got some serious talent around him and the Cowboys should have handled the Giants. I can't see him taking that team to the pinnacle of pro football. I just can't. That being said, Tom Brady. I'm not going to toot the Pats horn here, but I feel it necessary to mention Brady. Again. His performance on Saturday was (insert adjective synonymous with tremendous here). There, I've created my first mad lib.
That's all I've got today.
03 January 2008
This Much I Know
This Celtics team is as easy to love as the 2004 Red Sox...at least for me. The way Garnett involves the crowd, feeds off of the Garden's energy...the way Paul Pierce looks like he's back at Inglewood High...the way Scot Pollard generates a standing ovation for playing his ass of against Yao in some very rare but important minutes...the list goes on.
In a town with so much animosity waved in its direction on a daily basis from a professional sports standpoint, the C's are the saving grace in Boston. They're a brotherhood of high character, hard working guys that care about each other and winning games. And they love Doc. And they respect the tradition of Celtic green and what's up in the rafters at the Garden. It's a beautiful thing.
02 January 2008
Mixed Bag
In terms of a rating for the new year thus far, I've got to go with something in the vicinity of 7.7. Sure, I like the number 7. In fact, it's my favorite. But that rating should be higher, methinks. However, a few things have happened over the last 34 hours that have lowered it from its original score of 10. You see, at the stroke of midnight on January 1, 2008, it was a perfect year.
Yesterday got off to a good enough start, I guess. Lauren and I were in bed a little before midnight, but awake enough to realize the new year as it chimed in. We arose from our sleep pallet upon her hunch that fireworks might be visible out the back windows on the other side of the apartment. She was right, so we enjoyed a 10-minute display of decent light explosions as we rang in the newest year. It was a good way to start things off.
The night went off without a hitch as far as sleep in concerned. I slept well enough and awoke hungry. I then proceeded to make an admittedly phenomenal breakfast: an egg scramble with garlic, rosemary, mushrooms, onions, spinach and cheddar cheese. I served this up with points of toasted pita and sliced avocado. The only bad part was the sinewy avocado, which I struggled to understand. It was ripe, but refrigerated overnight. I'm guessing the temperature changed the texture a little. Score at this point of the morning: 9.6...the avocado brought it down that much because I love avocados and sometimes there's just nothing more disappointing than a bad one.
Somewhere over the course of breakfast or just after, it was brought to my attention that there was a marathon of 'America's Next Top Model'* that day. Score at that point: 8.3. I can stand this show, yes. And I did, no complaining to speak of. Truth be told, it was either that or one of several mediocre bowl games that were on yesterday. I know what you're thinking here, but I really had no interest in any of the games that were on yesterday other than Michigan/Florida. I missed this one and to be honest, I have no idea what time it was even on. What I can tell you is that lupus is a disease that attacks the immune system and it's a chronic illness. I can also tell you that Italian male models will provoke American female models to libate themselves too much and ultimately be unfaithful to their boyfriends. So disappointing.
We watched a few episodes before deciding to shuffle off to Target and eventually a few grocery stores to collect some dinner materials. Much to our delight, Target had what we were looking for: Rummikub and clothes hangers. And Rummikub and the hangers combined cost us a whopping $11.28 (we also bought paper towels, but those aside, that's a sweet deal for a dope board game and 13 quality hangers). Score after learning the cost of the items: 9.1. As I paid for this stuff, Lauren went off to get us a coffee at Starbucks. Score after learning that the coffee was about as tasty as cod liver oil: 8.1. Look, I was really looking forward to that cup of coffee and it sucked. SUCKED.
Continuing onto Stop & Shop, we searched for a new brand of tea that might please our pallets. We found a few, but over the course of looking for them Lauren decided she would make a special dinner of sea bass and spinach with a goat cheese and roasted garlic appetizer. So we put the tea back and left for home so we could retrieve the recipe for the sea bass and spinach. Then it was onto Whole Foods Market to get the ingredients. Score as we arrived at Whole Foods: standing pat at 8.1.
We found everything we needed at the market and more, and a very helpful produce lady made us up a fresh sac of basil for very cheap. I was pleased. We spent ample time choosing a dessert and searching for all the items we were there to buy, but it was fun. I find food shopping to be one of the more soothing things to do, as well as satisfying (most of the time...if I can't find anything I came for, I get really fucking stressed out for no good reason and fall into a bad mood) and this was no exception. Plus, the quality of most things at Whole Foods is top notch. That reminds me, 'top notch' is a modifier that I plan to incorporate into my vocabulary this year. I find it to be quite underused, but at the same time, it's a great way to describe something great. "Hey babe? This stew is fucking top notch. TOP NOTCH." Saying it twice in a row and really stressing it that second time is key to its effectiveness. Digression. Score upon leaving the market: 9.4.
On the way home, we stopped at a local liquor store to pick up some wine to have with dinner. I've been going to this liquor store near our apartment for a long time and I've never noticed their wine selection until last night. Incredible, and I got a $30 bottle of Merlot for $13.95. Score: 9.9. Nothing like getting a sweet deal.
The rest of the night was very good. Lauren's meal was fantastic and dessert was also very good. Reality began to return to the evening as I fell back into routine mode. I ironed my shirt for today and made lunches and that was pretty much it for the rest of the night. Score upon climbing into bed: 8.8. Normalcy brought the score down a bit. Then I couldn't sleep at all, tossed and turned all night, felt like shit as the night wore on and then this at 6:00am: I am rousted by the sound of someone yacking outside of our apartment, right in the parking lot. I open the blind a bit to see a younger man with a backpack on (on of those string-strapped Red Sox backpacks 'Ramirez' and the number 24 on the back, like a jersey. And he's pulling the trigger to induce the vomiting. At 6:00 in the morning. In our parking lot. I've seen some strange things in my life, but this one was right up there with the strangest. But it definitely woke me up for good (granted out of a very light sleep), which made me wonder if there's an alarm clock out there that plays the sounds of someone barfing. Score at this point: 7.7.
So there you have it. I'd like to close by wishing my dad a very happy 66th birthday today, as he bathes in the Florida sun. Hope it's a 10 for you, Pop. Enjoy.
*In no way did Lauren make me watch this show. I willingly agreed to watch it and I didn't express any displeasure with it at all yesterday.
Yesterday got off to a good enough start, I guess. Lauren and I were in bed a little before midnight, but awake enough to realize the new year as it chimed in. We arose from our sleep pallet upon her hunch that fireworks might be visible out the back windows on the other side of the apartment. She was right, so we enjoyed a 10-minute display of decent light explosions as we rang in the newest year. It was a good way to start things off.
The night went off without a hitch as far as sleep in concerned. I slept well enough and awoke hungry. I then proceeded to make an admittedly phenomenal breakfast: an egg scramble with garlic, rosemary, mushrooms, onions, spinach and cheddar cheese. I served this up with points of toasted pita and sliced avocado. The only bad part was the sinewy avocado, which I struggled to understand. It was ripe, but refrigerated overnight. I'm guessing the temperature changed the texture a little. Score at this point of the morning: 9.6...the avocado brought it down that much because I love avocados and sometimes there's just nothing more disappointing than a bad one.
Somewhere over the course of breakfast or just after, it was brought to my attention that there was a marathon of 'America's Next Top Model'* that day. Score at that point: 8.3. I can stand this show, yes. And I did, no complaining to speak of. Truth be told, it was either that or one of several mediocre bowl games that were on yesterday. I know what you're thinking here, but I really had no interest in any of the games that were on yesterday other than Michigan/Florida. I missed this one and to be honest, I have no idea what time it was even on. What I can tell you is that lupus is a disease that attacks the immune system and it's a chronic illness. I can also tell you that Italian male models will provoke American female models to libate themselves too much and ultimately be unfaithful to their boyfriends. So disappointing.
We watched a few episodes before deciding to shuffle off to Target and eventually a few grocery stores to collect some dinner materials. Much to our delight, Target had what we were looking for: Rummikub and clothes hangers. And Rummikub and the hangers combined cost us a whopping $11.28 (we also bought paper towels, but those aside, that's a sweet deal for a dope board game and 13 quality hangers). Score after learning the cost of the items: 9.1. As I paid for this stuff, Lauren went off to get us a coffee at Starbucks. Score after learning that the coffee was about as tasty as cod liver oil: 8.1. Look, I was really looking forward to that cup of coffee and it sucked. SUCKED.
Continuing onto Stop & Shop, we searched for a new brand of tea that might please our pallets. We found a few, but over the course of looking for them Lauren decided she would make a special dinner of sea bass and spinach with a goat cheese and roasted garlic appetizer. So we put the tea back and left for home so we could retrieve the recipe for the sea bass and spinach. Then it was onto Whole Foods Market to get the ingredients. Score as we arrived at Whole Foods: standing pat at 8.1.
We found everything we needed at the market and more, and a very helpful produce lady made us up a fresh sac of basil for very cheap. I was pleased. We spent ample time choosing a dessert and searching for all the items we were there to buy, but it was fun. I find food shopping to be one of the more soothing things to do, as well as satisfying (most of the time...if I can't find anything I came for, I get really fucking stressed out for no good reason and fall into a bad mood) and this was no exception. Plus, the quality of most things at Whole Foods is top notch. That reminds me, 'top notch' is a modifier that I plan to incorporate into my vocabulary this year. I find it to be quite underused, but at the same time, it's a great way to describe something great. "Hey babe? This stew is fucking top notch. TOP NOTCH." Saying it twice in a row and really stressing it that second time is key to its effectiveness. Digression. Score upon leaving the market: 9.4.
On the way home, we stopped at a local liquor store to pick up some wine to have with dinner. I've been going to this liquor store near our apartment for a long time and I've never noticed their wine selection until last night. Incredible, and I got a $30 bottle of Merlot for $13.95. Score: 9.9. Nothing like getting a sweet deal.
The rest of the night was very good. Lauren's meal was fantastic and dessert was also very good. Reality began to return to the evening as I fell back into routine mode. I ironed my shirt for today and made lunches and that was pretty much it for the rest of the night. Score upon climbing into bed: 8.8. Normalcy brought the score down a bit. Then I couldn't sleep at all, tossed and turned all night, felt like shit as the night wore on and then this at 6:00am: I am rousted by the sound of someone yacking outside of our apartment, right in the parking lot. I open the blind a bit to see a younger man with a backpack on (on of those string-strapped Red Sox backpacks 'Ramirez' and the number 24 on the back, like a jersey. And he's pulling the trigger to induce the vomiting. At 6:00 in the morning. In our parking lot. I've seen some strange things in my life, but this one was right up there with the strangest. But it definitely woke me up for good (granted out of a very light sleep), which made me wonder if there's an alarm clock out there that plays the sounds of someone barfing. Score at this point: 7.7.
So there you have it. I'd like to close by wishing my dad a very happy 66th birthday today, as he bathes in the Florida sun. Hope it's a 10 for you, Pop. Enjoy.
*In no way did Lauren make me watch this show. I willingly agreed to watch it and I didn't express any displeasure with it at all yesterday.
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