Just wanted to mention a few things I've thought about lately...
Remember when there was an outcry in California to get rid of governer Gray Davis. Granted, this guy was about as exciting as a local algebra teacher, but he was still an elected official. The referendum to have a special election was based on his lack of fiscal oversight in the debt ridden state. After all, California had a budget deficit of 6 billion at the time. Fortunately, California voters were wise enough to elect Arnold Scharzenegger aka The Governator. Now their budget deficit is 42 billion. Maybe they should have stuck with Gray Davis, but that election was just so much fun. They had porn star Mary Carey, midget TV phenom Gary Coleman, and roughly 300 other people run for Governor.
Fox News always makes this huge production that Iran and North Korea are going to test fire long range missiles. What country with long range missiles does NOT actively test them? Wouldn't it be even more irresponsible to have these missiles and not engage in routine testing? Why does Fox only mention the "axis of evil" countries in this regard. Why not disclose when India and Israel perform tests? Wouldn't that be a little more fair and balanced?
Here's an idea. When you speak with low income Republican who voted for Bush and is an ardent supporter of the war in Iraq, ask them to name 2 other cities in the country other than Baghdad. In Afghanistan, see if they can name 1 city.
Why did El Salvador commit troops to the Iraq war? How could this possibly have been in the national interest of a tiny impoverished country in Central America? Does the average El Salvadorian really have a vested interest in the Middle East or the political transformation of Iraq. They were just one of the more obscure members of the "coalition of the willing."
What kind of bank would extend a $400,000 mortgage with no money down?
How could the sequel to Meet the Parents be so pathetic when the first one was so hysterical?
Why does the Republican party seek to destroy absolutely anyone that proposes raising taxes? For a party that supposedly embraces sound principles of economics, you'd think they'd realize that in good times you're supposed to increase taxes and during recessionary times, you decrease taxes. It's called Econ 101. You can't just keep indiscriminately cutting taxes in every situation. Eventually you'd have no revenue.
Rank these 10 things in order of importance AS THEY AFFECT YOUR LIFE. BE TOTALLY HONEST. Which are you most likely to talk discuss with friends and family...
Nadya Suleman, the price of gasoline, the weekly episode of American Idol, the war in Iraq, long term U.S. energy policy, celebrity couples and romances, Nascar, Oprah's Book Club or any book, credit card debt, high profile arrests & mugshots.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Top 10 WORST Rock Concerts
You always see these lists everywhere - Favorite rock bands, vehicles I used to own, best recipes, favorite expressions (you know, "gag my with a spoon", "FACIAL")... on and on it goes, reluctantly and with a momentum entirely of its own. I already compiled a list of my favorite rock concerts a couple of years ago.
Well, how about a list of the absolute WORST rock concerts I've ever seen. I have all my ticket stubs showcased on my bedroom wall, so it was easy for me to walk around and pick them out. I would encourage others to make a similar list. I'll try to offer a brief explanation of why the show sucked. I'll also avoid targeting shitty bands, Jimmy Buffett and various country acts - what purpose would this possibly serve.
These are listed in no particular order.
10. Deep Purple & The Scorpions, June 15, 2002, Post Gazette Pavilion
I wouldn't classify this show as poor, but rather oddly pathetic. What desperate promoter conjured up this pairing? This was when The Scorpions came out with those horrible songs - Winds of Change and Gorky Park. When I saw these large, toothless morons swaying to that Winds of Change song, I bolted for the car and procured a much needed beverage. You think of great bands that have become absolute jokes - Aerosmith, Van Halen/Hagar, and The Scorpions are right up there.
9. Allman Brothers - Post Gazette (I think it was the 2003 show).
I love the Allman Brothers. Seen them about 10 times. There was one show that was really uninspiring. I'm sure their fans who go see them in Burgettstown every year know which year I'm talking about.
8. The Artist Formerly Known As Prince - 1997, Mellon Arena
I saw his Musicology Tour in 2004 at Mellon and it was one of the best concerts I've ever seen. This show was blatantly lame. First off, the venue was half full. He was at the peak of his Jehovah's Witness phase and properly referred to as The Artist. He wouldn't play any of his racy material and he refused to curse on stage, so he had the audience yell out words like "damn" or "hell." What the fuck? What was this? Although he's a weirdo, Prince is fantastic. But this tour he was straight weirdo.
7. Rusted Root - Wheeling Civic Center (I think it was 1996 or 97)
Rusted Root (I like to call them Rusted Soot) came to town riding the wave of that crappy "Simmy's on the Way" song. There's something embarrassing about going to see a concert in Wheeling. After the show, I feel like my mom's supposed to discreetly pick me up and tell me it's time for bed. This was the show where a Wheeling Jesuit girl bit the dust in the restroom and had to got to the emergency room so they could wire her jaw shut. I remember partying on the Island that night at Smitty's house. Long night for everyone.
6. Santana - Post Gazette Pavilion, 2003
This was the year Santana teamed up with all those crappy Top 40 bands - Goo Goo Dolls, the Matchbox 20 fag, Third Eye Blind. He released this horrible collaborative cd with all these endlessly regurgitated pop songs. Rest assured, he played them all to a crowd of rabid 40 year old women who had no idea his first name was Carlos.
5. Beat Bash - Post Gazette Pavillion, August 25, 2001
I'm still not sure what this was, why I was there or who I was with. I ight have zipped up just to scalp. Lots of Eminem, fake wanna-be thugs all over the parking lot. Not sure who played but I vaguely remember something called Kool-Aid and JoJo. This concert may have been a contributing factor to 9/11.
4. Grateful Dead - 3-18-91, Cap Center - Landover, Maryland
Everyone loves a Dead show, right??? Well this one totally sucked. Jerry kept forgetting lyrics and the band just sounded horrible. Setlist was boring and uninspired too. Couldn't even compensate through partying at the campground (Greenbelt) because we were continually harassed by militant park rangers. They even took our beer.
3. Anthrax, Exodus & Helloween - Hara Arena, Dayton, Ohio 4-24-89
Of all the top tier trash bands, Anthrax was always out of place. The only thing I remember was being embarrased to cheer, clap or applaud. Not a good sign.
2. The Other Ones - Mellon Arena, November 29, 2002
This was one of those early Phil and Friends shows. Plain awful. We had a good time though. For a while, we were behind the stage until security tossed us out. I hate to say this, but from what I've seen, the remaining members of the Grateful Dead and their affiliate members have become a colossal joke. You gotta know when to hang it up. Here's an idea - don't tour during the winter. So at the very least, we can enjoy the tailgating weather.
1. David Bowie & Nine Inch Nails - Starlake Ampitheatre, September 23, 1995
This was the year they collaborated. I think it was called "Tin Can Project" or something to that effect. We were so psyched. Instead, they played only the new material. You could see the disappointment in the entire crowd. After the show, everyone bitched on the way to their vehicles. You don't see that very often.
Honorable Mention - What else could it be but the Grateful Dead Blizzard Show. 3-20-94, Richfield Coliseum, Cleveland, Ohio
They canceled the show the night before and everyone partied their asses off at any hotel, rest stop, Taco Bell, wherever... Fuck it! State of Emergency and, ohhh yeah, the Dead comes to town. We were totally psyched. It might have been one hell of a party, but let's be honest. That show sucked.
Well, how about a list of the absolute WORST rock concerts I've ever seen. I have all my ticket stubs showcased on my bedroom wall, so it was easy for me to walk around and pick them out. I would encourage others to make a similar list. I'll try to offer a brief explanation of why the show sucked. I'll also avoid targeting shitty bands, Jimmy Buffett and various country acts - what purpose would this possibly serve.
These are listed in no particular order.
10. Deep Purple & The Scorpions, June 15, 2002, Post Gazette Pavilion
I wouldn't classify this show as poor, but rather oddly pathetic. What desperate promoter conjured up this pairing? This was when The Scorpions came out with those horrible songs - Winds of Change and Gorky Park. When I saw these large, toothless morons swaying to that Winds of Change song, I bolted for the car and procured a much needed beverage. You think of great bands that have become absolute jokes - Aerosmith, Van Halen/Hagar, and The Scorpions are right up there.
9. Allman Brothers - Post Gazette (I think it was the 2003 show).
I love the Allman Brothers. Seen them about 10 times. There was one show that was really uninspiring. I'm sure their fans who go see them in Burgettstown every year know which year I'm talking about.
8. The Artist Formerly Known As Prince - 1997, Mellon Arena
I saw his Musicology Tour in 2004 at Mellon and it was one of the best concerts I've ever seen. This show was blatantly lame. First off, the venue was half full. He was at the peak of his Jehovah's Witness phase and properly referred to as The Artist. He wouldn't play any of his racy material and he refused to curse on stage, so he had the audience yell out words like "damn" or "hell." What the fuck? What was this? Although he's a weirdo, Prince is fantastic. But this tour he was straight weirdo.
7. Rusted Root - Wheeling Civic Center (I think it was 1996 or 97)
Rusted Root (I like to call them Rusted Soot) came to town riding the wave of that crappy "Simmy's on the Way" song. There's something embarrassing about going to see a concert in Wheeling. After the show, I feel like my mom's supposed to discreetly pick me up and tell me it's time for bed. This was the show where a Wheeling Jesuit girl bit the dust in the restroom and had to got to the emergency room so they could wire her jaw shut. I remember partying on the Island that night at Smitty's house. Long night for everyone.
6. Santana - Post Gazette Pavilion, 2003
This was the year Santana teamed up with all those crappy Top 40 bands - Goo Goo Dolls, the Matchbox 20 fag, Third Eye Blind. He released this horrible collaborative cd with all these endlessly regurgitated pop songs. Rest assured, he played them all to a crowd of rabid 40 year old women who had no idea his first name was Carlos.
5. Beat Bash - Post Gazette Pavillion, August 25, 2001
I'm still not sure what this was, why I was there or who I was with. I ight have zipped up just to scalp. Lots of Eminem, fake wanna-be thugs all over the parking lot. Not sure who played but I vaguely remember something called Kool-Aid and JoJo. This concert may have been a contributing factor to 9/11.
4. Grateful Dead - 3-18-91, Cap Center - Landover, Maryland
Everyone loves a Dead show, right??? Well this one totally sucked. Jerry kept forgetting lyrics and the band just sounded horrible. Setlist was boring and uninspired too. Couldn't even compensate through partying at the campground (Greenbelt) because we were continually harassed by militant park rangers. They even took our beer.
3. Anthrax, Exodus & Helloween - Hara Arena, Dayton, Ohio 4-24-89
Of all the top tier trash bands, Anthrax was always out of place. The only thing I remember was being embarrased to cheer, clap or applaud. Not a good sign.
2. The Other Ones - Mellon Arena, November 29, 2002
This was one of those early Phil and Friends shows. Plain awful. We had a good time though. For a while, we were behind the stage until security tossed us out. I hate to say this, but from what I've seen, the remaining members of the Grateful Dead and their affiliate members have become a colossal joke. You gotta know when to hang it up. Here's an idea - don't tour during the winter. So at the very least, we can enjoy the tailgating weather.
1. David Bowie & Nine Inch Nails - Starlake Ampitheatre, September 23, 1995
This was the year they collaborated. I think it was called "Tin Can Project" or something to that effect. We were so psyched. Instead, they played only the new material. You could see the disappointment in the entire crowd. After the show, everyone bitched on the way to their vehicles. You don't see that very often.
Honorable Mention - What else could it be but the Grateful Dead Blizzard Show. 3-20-94, Richfield Coliseum, Cleveland, Ohio
They canceled the show the night before and everyone partied their asses off at any hotel, rest stop, Taco Bell, wherever... Fuck it! State of Emergency and, ohhh yeah, the Dead comes to town. We were totally psyched. It might have been one hell of a party, but let's be honest. That show sucked.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
using facebook as a weapon
Here's a hypothetical situation. My name is Marlene and I live in the small rural town of Bethesda, Ohio. The population of our community is about 600. Being part of small town America, everyone pretty much knows everybody. About 2/3 of the townspeople have internet access and the majority are connected via facebook. We all monitor each others status and frequently discuss local politics and future events. In many ways, interest in facebook and its related groups (Bethesda bowlers, gardening club, etc.) has surpassed the popularity of the local newspaper. The instantaneous nature and accessibility to information via facebook just seems like a better way to keep in touch.
Recently, my best friend Annie Thompson was the victim of a physical assualt. Her alcoholic husband Jim came home violent and drunk. He punched her several times leaving her with 2 bruises and a broken nose. Annie fled the house and came to my home in tears. She told me the whole story and I decided to exact my own form of revenge upon her asshole husband Jim. I got on the computer, went to my facebook page and posted the following as my status update...
"Jim Thompson beat his wife, gave her a sexually transmitted disease and has engaged in acts of bestiality." Actually, you could write just about anything with the insinuation of child pornography or molestation and BOOM, it's all over. Maybe a drugged date rape accusation or so and so is a heroin junkie. The possibilities are endless - you get the drift.
Rest assured, all this is merely hypothetical but I assure you this is a highly plausible scenario. This is a vicious attack with little or no recourse. After all, it could be a reference to some other Jim Thompson. I could argue that someone else knew my password and posted it. You could go the freedom of speech route.
My point - I think you'll see a rise in frivolous litigation concerning these matters. What if I decided to start an internet facebook club entitled, "Here is a list of the names and addresses of sexual predators in Bethesda, Ohio." Hell, I got my information form a govt. website and was just trying to fulfill my civic duty.
Something very similar happened in Wheeling in the pre-internet days (early 1990's). Does anyone remember when a vindictive individual spray painted a message about how another person "raped her son" on a vacant building wall next to a local church. I'm sure that made for some interesting conversation amongst the churchies at Sunday brunch.
Here's the point of all this. There's going to have to eventually be some global acceptance that when it comes to libelous/slanderous (via webcams) online activity, the perpetrators will increasingly not be held liable. You'll be able to say anything or post anything with absolute impunity. In a world that increasingly relies on the world wide web as a reliable source for information and the non-stop level of accompanying litigation, it seems as though these two forces will soon collide. For the most part, they already have. I suspect we'll see a tipping point in the near future. When the interent surfaced 10 years ago, it was hailed as the World Wide Web. WWW is an acronym for the wild wild west???? Wild, wild west - that's the global understatement of the millenium.
Recently, my best friend Annie Thompson was the victim of a physical assualt. Her alcoholic husband Jim came home violent and drunk. He punched her several times leaving her with 2 bruises and a broken nose. Annie fled the house and came to my home in tears. She told me the whole story and I decided to exact my own form of revenge upon her asshole husband Jim. I got on the computer, went to my facebook page and posted the following as my status update...
"Jim Thompson beat his wife, gave her a sexually transmitted disease and has engaged in acts of bestiality." Actually, you could write just about anything with the insinuation of child pornography or molestation and BOOM, it's all over. Maybe a drugged date rape accusation or so and so is a heroin junkie. The possibilities are endless - you get the drift.
Rest assured, all this is merely hypothetical but I assure you this is a highly plausible scenario. This is a vicious attack with little or no recourse. After all, it could be a reference to some other Jim Thompson. I could argue that someone else knew my password and posted it. You could go the freedom of speech route.
My point - I think you'll see a rise in frivolous litigation concerning these matters. What if I decided to start an internet facebook club entitled, "Here is a list of the names and addresses of sexual predators in Bethesda, Ohio." Hell, I got my information form a govt. website and was just trying to fulfill my civic duty.
Something very similar happened in Wheeling in the pre-internet days (early 1990's). Does anyone remember when a vindictive individual spray painted a message about how another person "raped her son" on a vacant building wall next to a local church. I'm sure that made for some interesting conversation amongst the churchies at Sunday brunch.
Here's the point of all this. There's going to have to eventually be some global acceptance that when it comes to libelous/slanderous (via webcams) online activity, the perpetrators will increasingly not be held liable. You'll be able to say anything or post anything with absolute impunity. In a world that increasingly relies on the world wide web as a reliable source for information and the non-stop level of accompanying litigation, it seems as though these two forces will soon collide. For the most part, they already have. I suspect we'll see a tipping point in the near future. When the interent surfaced 10 years ago, it was hailed as the World Wide Web. WWW is an acronym for the wild wild west???? Wild, wild west - that's the global understatement of the millenium.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
OCTUPLET WOMAN
Top 14 Observations about Octuplet Woman aka Nadya Suleman. Top 6 have special Wheeling overtones.
14. Former Charles in Charge TV star will babysit. Not Chachi Arcola, his bff Willie Ames. Prior experience on Eight is Enough gives him sufficient credibility.
13. That pic of her 9 months pregnant is bigger than Obama's stimulus package.
12. Someday, have all the kids simultaneously run for Congress. People would say, "Oh yeah... that's Octuplet womans' kids. She's got my vote. Gotta support the team."
11. Probably would be ridiculed in China.
10. Food stamps could run out. Might want to consider "high-end protein gruel" from Simpson's Camp Krusty episode.
9. Father should do a week long Maury Povich paternity test for all 14 kids. One by one by one by one by blah by yo by yo by bye
8. Special NANNY 911! episodes featuring Rush Limbaugh, Hannity, and other top-secret nannies. Ann Coulter heads up sweeps week.
7. Make Bristol Palin breast feed all the babies as punishment for her mother losing the presidential race. I know... this one is weak.
and now... onto Nadya Wheeling The Suleman Feeling ...
6. Get Joe the Plumber to be their fucking plumber and have them all relocate to Flushing, Ohio. This one is NOT weak.
5. She could hang at the Elm Grove DiCarlos. "Uhhh, that's for 6 trays with 17 bags of cheese?"
4. The father (who's tactically absent) should avoid handing out illegal Cuban cigars. Maybe consider the less expensive Wheeling Marsh Stogies?
3. Stick with me here... You go the absolute polygamy route. All the female children marry one man. All the male children are married to one woman. They'll come together for ONE SPECIAL NIGHT in Wheeling! An ALL-NEW... WHEELING WIFE SWAP (after hours in Benwood)!
2. Incorporate entire family into Oglebay Festival of Lights display. Parenting is NOT seasonal, damn-it!
1. Strength in numbers! Her family could provide "recession relief" to sagging attendance figures at Wesbanco Arena.
14. Former Charles in Charge TV star will babysit. Not Chachi Arcola, his bff Willie Ames. Prior experience on Eight is Enough gives him sufficient credibility.
13. That pic of her 9 months pregnant is bigger than Obama's stimulus package.
12. Someday, have all the kids simultaneously run for Congress. People would say, "Oh yeah... that's Octuplet womans' kids. She's got my vote. Gotta support the team."
11. Probably would be ridiculed in China.
10. Food stamps could run out. Might want to consider "high-end protein gruel" from Simpson's Camp Krusty episode.
9. Father should do a week long Maury Povich paternity test for all 14 kids. One by one by one by one by blah by yo by yo by bye
8. Special NANNY 911! episodes featuring Rush Limbaugh, Hannity, and other top-secret nannies. Ann Coulter heads up sweeps week.
7. Make Bristol Palin breast feed all the babies as punishment for her mother losing the presidential race. I know... this one is weak.
and now... onto Nadya Wheeling The Suleman Feeling ...
6. Get Joe the Plumber to be their fucking plumber and have them all relocate to Flushing, Ohio. This one is NOT weak.
5. She could hang at the Elm Grove DiCarlos. "Uhhh, that's for 6 trays with 17 bags of cheese?"
4. The father (who's tactically absent) should avoid handing out illegal Cuban cigars. Maybe consider the less expensive Wheeling Marsh Stogies?
3. Stick with me here... You go the absolute polygamy route. All the female children marry one man. All the male children are married to one woman. They'll come together for ONE SPECIAL NIGHT in Wheeling! An ALL-NEW... WHEELING WIFE SWAP (after hours in Benwood)!
2. Incorporate entire family into Oglebay Festival of Lights display. Parenting is NOT seasonal, damn-it!
1. Strength in numbers! Her family could provide "recession relief" to sagging attendance figures at Wesbanco Arena.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
t-shirt idea
If the Steelers don't beat the Cardinals in the Superbowl, I'll be sickened as will many of us. Granted, it would have been far worse losing to the Ravens in the AFC Championship but that's an argument for a different place. Anyway, assuming we're victorious (I think we'll win 34-17), I have devised a fantastic idea for a rogue t-shirt. I'm throwing it out there, in the hope that someone will take the initiative. Perhaps, I should be the one to do it. But truth be told, I think my t-shirt swinging days are over. Perhaps a few more Top 10's. Anyway here is the idea....
ON THE FRONT
Basically, in the upper left front pocket area it reads...
STEELERS
Finally, a ring for the COCK
ON THE BACK
There's a full picture of a white rooster/bird/cock thing, with some black & gold feathering. You could use the circular 3-star STEELERS logo as the eye. Also, you might consider dressing him up in one of those bird/hen Steelers outfits that you see on those mother hen statues outside every modular home in Trailerdelphia
I'm assuming that a cock is a rooster, right? Hens and miscellaneous bird-chickens aren't my specialty. Even if you think the idea is obnoxious, you've got to appreciate the play on the word "cockring" and the fact that we already have a ring for the thumb. Isn't a cock the most plausible and realistic placement for the new ring? On the front, you might just go with "STEELERS WIN A COCKRING." I also like the idea of using BIG BEN in a light-hearted penile reference as well.
Anyway, I'm just throwing the basic premise out there. I'd love to see some guy swinging these shirts at the victory parade next week. I'm sure these renegade salesmen would appreciate me telling them, "Hey, this was my idea." You'd make a killing and they wouldn't grow stale or outdated for at least an entire year. Plenty of time to sell all summer.
Incidentally, I wouldn't mind going up to the parade. I missed the 2005/06 one. If anybody wants to go, let me know. If we lose, I'll just watch the Scottsdale trophy wife parade on the Rosie O'Donnell Network while simultaneously chewing on tin foil and self-sodomizing myself with a low-end mop. Either way, don't sweat it.
Just one last comment. As a veteran t-shirt retailer, I'm often disgusted buy the total lack of creativity in the rogue t-shirt market. And yes, I fully understand the target market (women ages 18-25, men ages 18-40, or basically anyone with a $10 bill). And I know it's a lot easier to just sell a mass market, generic design. But c'mon, we've got an Obama administration now. Maybe it's time for people to show some ingenuity and think outside the box. Fuck George W. Bush.
ON THE FRONT
Basically, in the upper left front pocket area it reads...
STEELERS
Finally, a ring for the COCK
ON THE BACK
There's a full picture of a white rooster/bird/cock thing, with some black & gold feathering. You could use the circular 3-star STEELERS logo as the eye. Also, you might consider dressing him up in one of those bird/hen Steelers outfits that you see on those mother hen statues outside every modular home in Trailerdelphia
I'm assuming that a cock is a rooster, right? Hens and miscellaneous bird-chickens aren't my specialty. Even if you think the idea is obnoxious, you've got to appreciate the play on the word "cockring" and the fact that we already have a ring for the thumb. Isn't a cock the most plausible and realistic placement for the new ring? On the front, you might just go with "STEELERS WIN A COCKRING." I also like the idea of using BIG BEN in a light-hearted penile reference as well.
Anyway, I'm just throwing the basic premise out there. I'd love to see some guy swinging these shirts at the victory parade next week. I'm sure these renegade salesmen would appreciate me telling them, "Hey, this was my idea." You'd make a killing and they wouldn't grow stale or outdated for at least an entire year. Plenty of time to sell all summer.
Incidentally, I wouldn't mind going up to the parade. I missed the 2005/06 one. If anybody wants to go, let me know. If we lose, I'll just watch the Scottsdale trophy wife parade on the Rosie O'Donnell Network while simultaneously chewing on tin foil and self-sodomizing myself with a low-end mop. Either way, don't sweat it.
Just one last comment. As a veteran t-shirt retailer, I'm often disgusted buy the total lack of creativity in the rogue t-shirt market. And yes, I fully understand the target market (women ages 18-25, men ages 18-40, or basically anyone with a $10 bill). And I know it's a lot easier to just sell a mass market, generic design. But c'mon, we've got an Obama administration now. Maybe it's time for people to show some ingenuity and think outside the box. Fuck George W. Bush.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
smoking
In the summer of 2007, Ohio County health official Dr. Mercer banned cigarette smoking in all bars and restaurants with an important exemption for rooms with video lottery machines. This was quite the firestorm at the time. Many bar owners were hauled into court and fined for various violations. It has been over 2 years so I thought I'd take a moment to reflect on the smoking ban.
Let me first say that I smoked cigarettes (Marlboro Lights) for almost 10 years of my life - basically 1990-2000. I'd usually smoke somewhere between 10-20 cigarettes per day. During that span, I quit on a few occasions - once for 3 months the other time for 7 months. Eventually I had enough of the nonsense so I quit cold turkey. No gum, no patches, no fucking yoga meditation, nothing. If you want to quit, just do it. I agree that the shit's addictive, but c'mon, do you really need a patch affixed to your left buttock or that disgusting nicotine laden gum? I also bet someone $100 that I wouldn't smoke a cigarette for 3 years. This helped a great deal because the thought of handing said person a hundred bucks was unacceptable. I'd sooner make a $100 donation to the Rush Limbaugh congressional fund.
The last time I smoked a cigarette was the day the Ravens beat the NY Giants in the Superbowl. Incidentally, if you wish to quit smoking, I think the best day to quit is the day after the Superbowl. Here's why - there's nothing going on for the next two months. After football season ends, there's very little to do. Without the heightened enjoyment of outdoor activities, it helps squelch the allure of cigarettes. And trust me, in Wheeling, absolutely nothing happens during February and half of March. By that time, 6 weeks have passed and the urge to smoke cancer sticks has faded.
Why did I quit? I think I felt guilty lying to my mother (she was under the impression I quit in the late 1990's). In fact, I had quit at the time but then started back up. The other reason was that it finally became apparent that cigarettes are disgusting (some more than others - for example, any Camel products are substantially more gross). Also, I've really come to view it as a white trash issue and didn't want to fall into that category. For me it was never really a health issue because I was still jogging around 3 miles a day. Aside from the addiction issue, I just plain enjoyed it. Seriously though, there's something truly disgusting about people that chain smoke, one after the other after the other. The worst is when a person huffs down a cigarette as quickly as possible due to the cold weather and then breathes near you. I think people should just walk away when chain-smoked-out-fucks invade your space. Maybe there could be some kind of universal signal. Perhaps you could pretend to take a puff off a fake cigarette and then walk away. I sometimes do this when I see some dumbshit smoking a cigarette in their vehicle and they just cut me off. I also knew this girl who would smoke while she ate dinner. In between each course, she'd light up. It was unusually obnoxious and disgusting. A decade later she wanted to be friends on facebook/myspace. My only ever personal friend denial, but it was largely for other reasons. I find her contemptuous.
I'm sorry if you're currently a smoker and find this post offensive. Honestly, some of my best friends smoke. I don't think they're white trash (perhaps a few). I'm speaking strictly of the habit itself. I'm sure my scotch/beer breath is proportionately disgusting as well. It just leaves a flagrantly bad impression when some moron burns me with a lit cigarette or breathes in my face.
I thought I'd offer a little background info so you can better gauge this post. Back to the smoking ban. The smoking ban, a decree from the HEALTH Department, has to be one of the most flawed, hypocritical and ironic legislative efforts I've ever seen. First and foremost, it is NOT a ban. Far from it. It merely redirects where smoking is deemed acceptable. Obviously, the Wheeling Island Casino could not defy the elderly chain smokers from which they derive a significant percentage of their yearly revenue. These IGT machines are half video/half idiot; hence, I'll refer to them as "vidiot" machines. I've never understood the fixation with these devices. What on earth compels people to endlessly funnel their social security checks into these things? Sure, I realize it's a high, but why can't people get a high from more conventional sources (drugs, alcohol, exercise, betting on football... anything but the vidiot machines)?
As I'm sure you know, every bar would soon be awarded a smoking exemption if they had a vidiot lottery room. I guess the health dept. has deemed cigarette smoking less harmful and not as offensive if confined to a side room that encourages mindless gambling. The irony - if you ever go inside one of these rooms, you're bombarded with smoke so thick you can barely see. Your eyes dry up and every part of your body stinks. Your clothing, hair and genitalia wreak of stale smoke. If smoking wasn't bad enough already... Hey, here's an idea, let us confine all those who embrace emphysema and crowd them in a closet-sized room while the endless din of the vidiot machines clamors away.
I'd say about 75% of the local bars enforce the smoking ban. 25% could care less. It usually depends on the scope of the menu and the mindset of the owner. If the owner smokes cigarettes, it's a smoking bar. But, if the bar does a substantial amount of business via their menu, they'll enforce the ban. If it's a dive bar, where the menu consists chips and peanuts, forget about it. And Wheeling has a sufficient number of dive bars. Hell, our city is well known for two major distinctions - The greatest number of churches per capita and the greatest number of neighborhood bars per capita. We also have impressive rates of morbid obesity, adult illiteracy, rampant incest and a significant soot problem.
In a sick kind of way, maybe the smoking "ban" is a good thing. Why not put all the smokers and vidiot junkies in the same room? It's almost like an optional system of modern day Wheeling apartheid. With increased familiarity, perhaps this subset of the population will embrace each other, procreate and pass on some kind of genetic code which seals their collective destiny. Regardless of the wheezing, coughing and gasping for air, they'll continue to press the vidiot buttons unabated and with ever increasing vigilance. I think it was King Longshanks in Braveheart that said, "See, you must find the goods in any situation."
Let me first say that I smoked cigarettes (Marlboro Lights) for almost 10 years of my life - basically 1990-2000. I'd usually smoke somewhere between 10-20 cigarettes per day. During that span, I quit on a few occasions - once for 3 months the other time for 7 months. Eventually I had enough of the nonsense so I quit cold turkey. No gum, no patches, no fucking yoga meditation, nothing. If you want to quit, just do it. I agree that the shit's addictive, but c'mon, do you really need a patch affixed to your left buttock or that disgusting nicotine laden gum? I also bet someone $100 that I wouldn't smoke a cigarette for 3 years. This helped a great deal because the thought of handing said person a hundred bucks was unacceptable. I'd sooner make a $100 donation to the Rush Limbaugh congressional fund.
The last time I smoked a cigarette was the day the Ravens beat the NY Giants in the Superbowl. Incidentally, if you wish to quit smoking, I think the best day to quit is the day after the Superbowl. Here's why - there's nothing going on for the next two months. After football season ends, there's very little to do. Without the heightened enjoyment of outdoor activities, it helps squelch the allure of cigarettes. And trust me, in Wheeling, absolutely nothing happens during February and half of March. By that time, 6 weeks have passed and the urge to smoke cancer sticks has faded.
Why did I quit? I think I felt guilty lying to my mother (she was under the impression I quit in the late 1990's). In fact, I had quit at the time but then started back up. The other reason was that it finally became apparent that cigarettes are disgusting (some more than others - for example, any Camel products are substantially more gross). Also, I've really come to view it as a white trash issue and didn't want to fall into that category. For me it was never really a health issue because I was still jogging around 3 miles a day. Aside from the addiction issue, I just plain enjoyed it. Seriously though, there's something truly disgusting about people that chain smoke, one after the other after the other. The worst is when a person huffs down a cigarette as quickly as possible due to the cold weather and then breathes near you. I think people should just walk away when chain-smoked-out-fucks invade your space. Maybe there could be some kind of universal signal. Perhaps you could pretend to take a puff off a fake cigarette and then walk away. I sometimes do this when I see some dumbshit smoking a cigarette in their vehicle and they just cut me off. I also knew this girl who would smoke while she ate dinner. In between each course, she'd light up. It was unusually obnoxious and disgusting. A decade later she wanted to be friends on facebook/myspace. My only ever personal friend denial, but it was largely for other reasons. I find her contemptuous.
I'm sorry if you're currently a smoker and find this post offensive. Honestly, some of my best friends smoke. I don't think they're white trash (perhaps a few). I'm speaking strictly of the habit itself. I'm sure my scotch/beer breath is proportionately disgusting as well. It just leaves a flagrantly bad impression when some moron burns me with a lit cigarette or breathes in my face.
I thought I'd offer a little background info so you can better gauge this post. Back to the smoking ban. The smoking ban, a decree from the HEALTH Department, has to be one of the most flawed, hypocritical and ironic legislative efforts I've ever seen. First and foremost, it is NOT a ban. Far from it. It merely redirects where smoking is deemed acceptable. Obviously, the Wheeling Island Casino could not defy the elderly chain smokers from which they derive a significant percentage of their yearly revenue. These IGT machines are half video/half idiot; hence, I'll refer to them as "vidiot" machines. I've never understood the fixation with these devices. What on earth compels people to endlessly funnel their social security checks into these things? Sure, I realize it's a high, but why can't people get a high from more conventional sources (drugs, alcohol, exercise, betting on football... anything but the vidiot machines)?
As I'm sure you know, every bar would soon be awarded a smoking exemption if they had a vidiot lottery room. I guess the health dept. has deemed cigarette smoking less harmful and not as offensive if confined to a side room that encourages mindless gambling. The irony - if you ever go inside one of these rooms, you're bombarded with smoke so thick you can barely see. Your eyes dry up and every part of your body stinks. Your clothing, hair and genitalia wreak of stale smoke. If smoking wasn't bad enough already... Hey, here's an idea, let us confine all those who embrace emphysema and crowd them in a closet-sized room while the endless din of the vidiot machines clamors away.
I'd say about 75% of the local bars enforce the smoking ban. 25% could care less. It usually depends on the scope of the menu and the mindset of the owner. If the owner smokes cigarettes, it's a smoking bar. But, if the bar does a substantial amount of business via their menu, they'll enforce the ban. If it's a dive bar, where the menu consists chips and peanuts, forget about it. And Wheeling has a sufficient number of dive bars. Hell, our city is well known for two major distinctions - The greatest number of churches per capita and the greatest number of neighborhood bars per capita. We also have impressive rates of morbid obesity, adult illiteracy, rampant incest and a significant soot problem.
In a sick kind of way, maybe the smoking "ban" is a good thing. Why not put all the smokers and vidiot junkies in the same room? It's almost like an optional system of modern day Wheeling apartheid. With increased familiarity, perhaps this subset of the population will embrace each other, procreate and pass on some kind of genetic code which seals their collective destiny. Regardless of the wheezing, coughing and gasping for air, they'll continue to press the vidiot buttons unabated and with ever increasing vigilance. I think it was King Longshanks in Braveheart that said, "See, you must find the goods in any situation."
Monday, January 19, 2009
Met Grill... it never ends
I occasionally write about my odd experiences at the Metropolitan Grill in downtown Wheeling restaurant. The food is usually fantastic. The atmosphere is pleasant although the place sometimes smells like a sewer (my friend Barb calls it sewery). The service covers the entire spectrum from exceptional to downright bizarre. By bizarre, I mean stuff like the waiter might ask you to buy him scratch off lottery tickets in lieu of a gratuity. The waitress might grab your napkin and blow her nose. The owner might be slamming tequila shots and suddenly run for the door to go puke outside. Yeah... stuff like that.
Well, today I celebrated the Steelers victory with two of my favorite lunchables, Heather and Sarah. I got this crabcake salad which was out of this world. Heather got some watery lobster bisque and a steak sandwich which she said was poor. Sarah got a sandwich and side salad and remained relatively guarded about the quality.
Our waitress didn't smile but was cordial and efficient.
So why am I writing about this? Nothing out of the ordinary here. Well, something did strike me as peculiar. Every day they have a half-sheet of paper which lists the specials. Each special has a brief description. I WISH I HAD A SCANNER so you could see the number of misspellings as well as the inconsistent and improper use of punctuation. It's so bad that I have decided to recreate it in its EXACT entirety. So, without further adieu...
METROPOLITAN CITI GRILL LUNCH FEATURES
01/19/08
DINE IN OR TAKE OUT 232-0762
HOT SANDWICH
BAKED BALSAMIC GRILLED STEAK - SAUTEED SPINACH, CARMELIZED SWEET ONION,AND
MOZZERELLA ON ITALIAN ROLL W/ SALAD OR FRIES
$7.95
SALAD
ALMOND CRUSTED SALMON - ORANGE MAMALADE GLAZE,RED ONION,RED
PEPPERS,ORANGES AND POMMEGRANATE VINAIGRETTE
$8.95
PLATE
PAN SEARED DIVER SEA SCALLOPS - SAUTEED WITH SPINACH,CALAMATA
OLIVES,ARTICHOKES,AND A LIGHT PESTO CREAM SAUCE,OVER LINGUINI $9.50
HOT SOUPS
LOBSTER BISQUE/FRENCH ONION/
GARDEN CHICKEN NOODLE
SWEETOOTH
VANILLA BEAN CHEESE CAKE/TIRIMISU/CHOCOLATE LAVA TORTE
CHOCOLATE ALMOND GANOSH TORTE/
KENTUCKEY PECAN BOURBAN TORTE/VANILLA ICE CREAM
Oh, where to begin. Let me first say that I didn't take honorable mention at the third grade grammar rodeo, but what the fuck is going on? The use of commas is completely mesmerizing. Sometimes there's a space, sometimes there isn't. My favorite is the use of the comma which precedes "OVER LINGUINI" as if to use this cataclysmic pause to enhance the level of excitement. I just find the total lack of "punctuation consistency" slightly amusing.
Onto the spelling issues. In an abbreviated menu, they somehow managed to misspell 7 words. Can you find them? Scroll all the way down if you want to cut to the chase. These are not simple typos. This guy must have been using his TRS-80 or some kind of Commodore Vic 20 knock off because there is no evidence of spell check.
The fact that he capitalized everything is a bit weak, but maybe he just likes the caps lock button on his computer. I'm a bit shocked the phone number wasn't listed as @#@-)&^@. That's 232-0762 in caps lock language.
If you wish to read about my other strange Met Grill experiences just do a search on my blog for Metropolitan Grill, Met Grill and/or words like bewildered and confusing. I'm sure the previous posts will surface.
As I said, feel free to scroll to the bottom...
MAMALADE - Marmalade (alright, omitting the "r" was probably an accident)
POMMEGRANATE - pomegranate (I'll give him a pass on this one)
SWEETOOTH - Sweettooth (unless he was trying to be intentionally cutesy)
TIRIMISU - tiramisu (how can a pastry chef not know how to spell this?)
GANOSH - ganache (kind of like soup... spelled "supe")
KENTUCKEY - Kentucky (I wonder if this dumbass has ever been to Road Island)
BOURBAN - bourbon (he should drink less of it)
I often use a little "grammarical license" - kind of like my own version of poetic license, but this was so atrocious I felt it warranted a blog. But like I said, the food is usually bad ass. Easily the best salads in a 45 mile radius of Wheeling.
Well, today I celebrated the Steelers victory with two of my favorite lunchables, Heather and Sarah. I got this crabcake salad which was out of this world. Heather got some watery lobster bisque and a steak sandwich which she said was poor. Sarah got a sandwich and side salad and remained relatively guarded about the quality.
Our waitress didn't smile but was cordial and efficient.
So why am I writing about this? Nothing out of the ordinary here. Well, something did strike me as peculiar. Every day they have a half-sheet of paper which lists the specials. Each special has a brief description. I WISH I HAD A SCANNER so you could see the number of misspellings as well as the inconsistent and improper use of punctuation. It's so bad that I have decided to recreate it in its EXACT entirety. So, without further adieu...
METROPOLITAN CITI GRILL LUNCH FEATURES
01/19/08
DINE IN OR TAKE OUT 232-0762
HOT SANDWICH
BAKED BALSAMIC GRILLED STEAK - SAUTEED SPINACH, CARMELIZED SWEET ONION,AND
MOZZERELLA ON ITALIAN ROLL W/ SALAD OR FRIES
$7.95
SALAD
ALMOND CRUSTED SALMON - ORANGE MAMALADE GLAZE,RED ONION,RED
PEPPERS,ORANGES AND POMMEGRANATE VINAIGRETTE
$8.95
PLATE
PAN SEARED DIVER SEA SCALLOPS - SAUTEED WITH SPINACH,CALAMATA
OLIVES,ARTICHOKES,AND A LIGHT PESTO CREAM SAUCE,OVER LINGUINI $9.50
HOT SOUPS
LOBSTER BISQUE/FRENCH ONION/
GARDEN CHICKEN NOODLE
SWEETOOTH
VANILLA BEAN CHEESE CAKE/TIRIMISU/CHOCOLATE LAVA TORTE
CHOCOLATE ALMOND GANOSH TORTE/
KENTUCKEY PECAN BOURBAN TORTE/VANILLA ICE CREAM
Oh, where to begin. Let me first say that I didn't take honorable mention at the third grade grammar rodeo, but what the fuck is going on? The use of commas is completely mesmerizing. Sometimes there's a space, sometimes there isn't. My favorite is the use of the comma which precedes "OVER LINGUINI" as if to use this cataclysmic pause to enhance the level of excitement. I just find the total lack of "punctuation consistency" slightly amusing.
Onto the spelling issues. In an abbreviated menu, they somehow managed to misspell 7 words. Can you find them? Scroll all the way down if you want to cut to the chase. These are not simple typos. This guy must have been using his TRS-80 or some kind of Commodore Vic 20 knock off because there is no evidence of spell check.
The fact that he capitalized everything is a bit weak, but maybe he just likes the caps lock button on his computer. I'm a bit shocked the phone number wasn't listed as @#@-)&^@. That's 232-0762 in caps lock language.
If you wish to read about my other strange Met Grill experiences just do a search on my blog for Metropolitan Grill, Met Grill and/or words like bewildered and confusing. I'm sure the previous posts will surface.
As I said, feel free to scroll to the bottom...
MAMALADE - Marmalade (alright, omitting the "r" was probably an accident)
POMMEGRANATE - pomegranate (I'll give him a pass on this one)
SWEETOOTH - Sweettooth (unless he was trying to be intentionally cutesy)
TIRIMISU - tiramisu (how can a pastry chef not know how to spell this?)
GANOSH - ganache (kind of like soup... spelled "supe")
KENTUCKEY - Kentucky (I wonder if this dumbass has ever been to Road Island)
BOURBAN - bourbon (he should drink less of it)
I often use a little "grammarical license" - kind of like my own version of poetic license, but this was so atrocious I felt it warranted a blog. But like I said, the food is usually bad ass. Easily the best salads in a 45 mile radius of Wheeling.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
names
Long ago, my mother admitted that she wanted to name me "Raphael." Fortunately, my father intervened and insisted on the more conventional "Eric." I can hardly fathom what it would have been like growing up as Ralph Saferstein. Or even worse, what about Rafe? What the fuck is that?
Not as though it's breaking news, but personal names have risen to a level of maximum absurdity over the past decade. I call it the "American Idol Phenomenon." Everybody thinks their child has the potential to be a celebrity these days. Perhaps if I name my daughter "Cinammon," someone will take heed. Wait a minute, that spelling is so mundane. How about we spell her name "Sinumen?" This way, she'll get even more attention. But what if they pronounce it wrong? Perhaps a trip to the medicine cabinet is in order and we'll just call her Mucinex?
The reason I call it the American Idol Phenomonen is that in a country of 300 million plus, it seems like every newborn has to be special. It's not enough that they're born healthy and exist. They must be prepared to enter some kind of talent or pageantry contest the immediate moment they exit the womb. We need to pierce Punta Kanta's ears and belly button. She'll be a superstar in no time and it will elevate our family to fame and fortune, or at least some marginal level of acceptance amongst the beanie baby collectors.
This morning, the health and human services people in New Jersey "repossessed" 2 children named Adolph Hitler and Jocelyn Aryan Nation. Not sure what their last name is. Not sure why they had to take custody of the children either - I don't think you can make that information immediately public. These were the same parents who wanted to get the name Adolf Hitler placed on the kid's birthday cake and the grocery store refused thus setting off a firestorm of controversy last month. I find it comical that parents across the nation will think this is hideous. Meanwhile, they yell at their son, "Jagermeister, finish your lima beans! "Somalia, don't tease your brother!"
The American Idol Phenomenon is very similar to the Maury Povich Paternity Testing Phenomenon. Both are heavily rooted in this "my child is so special, he/she could grow up to be the next President of the United States" concept. Despite the fact that mom is a corpulent stripper and daddy sells dime bags of oregano from the Burger King drive-thru. "Maury, look at my daughter! She's so special. That's my world. That's my life. She need to know who her daddy is. Salmonella need a daddy." I agree. Salmonella certainly does need a father figure. Even though her mother is testing the 8th man after the previous 7 were determined NOT to be the father. You see, it's my contention that just perhaps, just maybe - Salmonella will not become this famous celebrity. Salmonella will never be in a position to advance the existence of her parents. Maybe, just maybe, her parents are setting her up for a life of scorn and ridicule. Maybe Salmonella (her friends call her Sally; oops, wait a minute, spelled Sallee (porn-style spelling)), won't become the future Ambassador to Guam. Then again, it's possible that her neighbor will join the fad and name her son "Trichinosis" or "Trick" for short.
In retrospect, I fully realize that names like Jennifer, Sam, John, etc. are not hip enough in this day and age of instant fame and glitzing bling. And sure, I know - every child is a special gift from god and a wondrous bundle of shitting/urinating joy.
Ok, NOW I GET IT. One day it will be me on the grand stage. And in the case of precious baby Urethra... Eric, you are the father!" And even though I charge backstage demanding another paternity test, I really should have known all along - she had her father's cynical disposition. URETHRA, YOU IS MY EVERYTHING!"
Not as though it's breaking news, but personal names have risen to a level of maximum absurdity over the past decade. I call it the "American Idol Phenomenon." Everybody thinks their child has the potential to be a celebrity these days. Perhaps if I name my daughter "Cinammon," someone will take heed. Wait a minute, that spelling is so mundane. How about we spell her name "Sinumen?" This way, she'll get even more attention. But what if they pronounce it wrong? Perhaps a trip to the medicine cabinet is in order and we'll just call her Mucinex?
The reason I call it the American Idol Phenomonen is that in a country of 300 million plus, it seems like every newborn has to be special. It's not enough that they're born healthy and exist. They must be prepared to enter some kind of talent or pageantry contest the immediate moment they exit the womb. We need to pierce Punta Kanta's ears and belly button. She'll be a superstar in no time and it will elevate our family to fame and fortune, or at least some marginal level of acceptance amongst the beanie baby collectors.
This morning, the health and human services people in New Jersey "repossessed" 2 children named Adolph Hitler and Jocelyn Aryan Nation. Not sure what their last name is. Not sure why they had to take custody of the children either - I don't think you can make that information immediately public. These were the same parents who wanted to get the name Adolf Hitler placed on the kid's birthday cake and the grocery store refused thus setting off a firestorm of controversy last month. I find it comical that parents across the nation will think this is hideous. Meanwhile, they yell at their son, "Jagermeister, finish your lima beans! "Somalia, don't tease your brother!"
The American Idol Phenomenon is very similar to the Maury Povich Paternity Testing Phenomenon. Both are heavily rooted in this "my child is so special, he/she could grow up to be the next President of the United States" concept. Despite the fact that mom is a corpulent stripper and daddy sells dime bags of oregano from the Burger King drive-thru. "Maury, look at my daughter! She's so special. That's my world. That's my life. She need to know who her daddy is. Salmonella need a daddy." I agree. Salmonella certainly does need a father figure. Even though her mother is testing the 8th man after the previous 7 were determined NOT to be the father. You see, it's my contention that just perhaps, just maybe - Salmonella will not become this famous celebrity. Salmonella will never be in a position to advance the existence of her parents. Maybe, just maybe, her parents are setting her up for a life of scorn and ridicule. Maybe Salmonella (her friends call her Sally; oops, wait a minute, spelled Sallee (porn-style spelling)), won't become the future Ambassador to Guam. Then again, it's possible that her neighbor will join the fad and name her son "Trichinosis" or "Trick" for short.
In retrospect, I fully realize that names like Jennifer, Sam, John, etc. are not hip enough in this day and age of instant fame and glitzing bling. And sure, I know - every child is a special gift from god and a wondrous bundle of shitting/urinating joy.
Ok, NOW I GET IT. One day it will be me on the grand stage. And in the case of precious baby Urethra... Eric, you are the father!" And even though I charge backstage demanding another paternity test, I really should have known all along - she had her father's cynical disposition. URETHRA, YOU IS MY EVERYTHING!"
Thursday, January 08, 2009
AC/DC
Finally, a concert review. Ahhh, where do you start with this one?
Three months ago they announced this show for Mellon Arena and I thought to myself - this could be the last "true" rock concert at the Igloo. I know, Fleetwood Mac is coming in March. And while I intend on going (they're opening their tour in Pittsburgh), it just isn't the same. This is AC/DC - one of the simply rawest major arena rock bands of all time. So yesterday was the big day and let me say it was relatively miserable. Heavy rains, flurries and high winds marred the majority of the day. Earlier, I had hosted a lunchable and we outlined our intentions to meet at the Alpha, 5:30 sharp.
I've seen AC/DC a few times before. One time w/ Cinderella, one time w/ White Lion (that atrocious hair band that sang "Wait, Wait, I Never Had A Chance to Love You") and another time with god knows who. This is of no relevance.
We met Kelly (a man) and his daughter and they would follow us up. Eventually, we'd lose them in the Burgh. So it was me, Heather, Gary K. and Sarah C. I really didn't want to drive this one but Gary didn't bring his Explorer and the thought of Heather driving terrified the living hell out of me. We get on the road and visibility was poor. Gary pleasantly informed me that the forecast was for 3 inches. I just had a bad feeling about this. By the time we hit Claysville, I voiced my concern. I started to think about the title of AC/DC's new cd... isn't it called Black Ice? The roads weren't that bad but I just kept thinking it's gonna get so much worse. Plus, people were driving really slow. Honestly, I was about 50/50 and seriously contemplating turning back. I asked everyone to take a vote and it got awkwardly silent. I knew what they were thinking, "What the fuck Grandpa Saf? Why must you be such a lame ass bitch? We're trying to go to a rock concert, not Sesame Street Live or some Yanni shit. Why have you foresaken us?" So I kept going. By the time we got to Little Washington, everything was substantially better.
I took a slightly non-circuitous path to the arena. Since none of us had tickets, I wanted to park in the lower lot near the main entrance and survey the scene. The lower lot was only accepting reserved parking. Fuck. At the last possible second (and I do mean last possible second), an oafish lot attendant wave me in. Talk about karma. Gary slipped me $20 for parking and I'm pretty sure I kept the change (6 bucks). Gary, if you ever read my blog (which I doubt), I owe you 6 bucks. I was just so excited about getting my usual spot.
Onto the quest for cheap tickets. They had been blabbing on the radio how this show was sold-out. But WDVE always says everything is sold-out. Over the years, I've learned that words like "sold-out", "gold-circle", "box seats", etc. blah don't mean shit. I walked over to Gate A and there was a man (I think it may have been Ohio County Commissioner David Simms) trying to get rid of 4 tickets for $160. Not a bad deal, considering they were Level A with a retail value of about $424. Jesus Christ - AC/DC tix are $106 a pop - that makes me sick. I could see this guy was a bit disillusioned. My goal was to snag 4 singles for $20 a piece, but there wasn't much action out front. 2 other women wanted $100, then $50. I ran into AJ and CHL. They had bought tix earlier for $45 a piece. Then, I saw the cops bitch at the David Simms lookalike and he moved off to the edge of the parking lot. BINGO. I approached him with 4 for a buck twenty and he acquiesced. To be honest, he was offering a great deal in the first place and I think he was just plain discouraged. Who knows how long he'd been standing there.
"Hope you guys brought your ear plugs" was a well-received comment as I got back to the car. We opted to skip the opening band (thank god). I still don't know who they were. Anyway, we hiked about 40 yards to the door and we're in. Not bad. Our seats were bad ass. Section A-11 about 5 rows off the floor. In my opinion, one section closer are the best seats in the arena. Not only were they all together, they were seats 1,2,3,4 on the aisle. Again, not bad. This is more important than usual if you're familiar with the typical AC/DC fan - Unkempt, cheap whiskey chain smoking breath, and generally loud and ugly.
Did I mention how they say everything is always sold-out and there's always a ton of seats. Well HELL to the f'in O, HELLO - this place was totally sold-out. Every seat to the top of the rafters was filled (probably 18,500 if anyone gives a damn).
Brian Johnson can still sing or well screech and Angus Young can still play. These guys have got be about 60. To be honest, my expectations were pretty low. But these guys fucking rocked it out. All the classics and a pretty good flow to the setlist. They closed with one of my all-time favorite rock songs - For Those About to Rock. I snuck a look at the setlist prior to the show. Couldn't help myself. We bolted for the car just as the cannons were firing.
Kelly called me and asked if we were still stuck in traffic. "We've been in this shit for about an hour." I replied, "No, we're at the Dallas Pike rest stop." I silently reflected, "And you paid over a hundred bucks a ticket for level E. Not bad."
As I said earlier, the last true rock concert at Mellon Arena. I can't wait for the new arena next year, but there's a ton of great memories wrapped up in the Igloo. I'll miss it.
Should have worn some ear plugs. My ears were buzzing when I hit the pillow.
AC/DC - you still rock and I will salute.
Three months ago they announced this show for Mellon Arena and I thought to myself - this could be the last "true" rock concert at the Igloo. I know, Fleetwood Mac is coming in March. And while I intend on going (they're opening their tour in Pittsburgh), it just isn't the same. This is AC/DC - one of the simply rawest major arena rock bands of all time. So yesterday was the big day and let me say it was relatively miserable. Heavy rains, flurries and high winds marred the majority of the day. Earlier, I had hosted a lunchable and we outlined our intentions to meet at the Alpha, 5:30 sharp.
I've seen AC/DC a few times before. One time w/ Cinderella, one time w/ White Lion (that atrocious hair band that sang "Wait, Wait, I Never Had A Chance to Love You") and another time with god knows who. This is of no relevance.
We met Kelly (a man) and his daughter and they would follow us up. Eventually, we'd lose them in the Burgh. So it was me, Heather, Gary K. and Sarah C. I really didn't want to drive this one but Gary didn't bring his Explorer and the thought of Heather driving terrified the living hell out of me. We get on the road and visibility was poor. Gary pleasantly informed me that the forecast was for 3 inches. I just had a bad feeling about this. By the time we hit Claysville, I voiced my concern. I started to think about the title of AC/DC's new cd... isn't it called Black Ice? The roads weren't that bad but I just kept thinking it's gonna get so much worse. Plus, people were driving really slow. Honestly, I was about 50/50 and seriously contemplating turning back. I asked everyone to take a vote and it got awkwardly silent. I knew what they were thinking, "What the fuck Grandpa Saf? Why must you be such a lame ass bitch? We're trying to go to a rock concert, not Sesame Street Live or some Yanni shit. Why have you foresaken us?" So I kept going. By the time we got to Little Washington, everything was substantially better.
I took a slightly non-circuitous path to the arena. Since none of us had tickets, I wanted to park in the lower lot near the main entrance and survey the scene. The lower lot was only accepting reserved parking. Fuck. At the last possible second (and I do mean last possible second), an oafish lot attendant wave me in. Talk about karma. Gary slipped me $20 for parking and I'm pretty sure I kept the change (6 bucks). Gary, if you ever read my blog (which I doubt), I owe you 6 bucks. I was just so excited about getting my usual spot.
Onto the quest for cheap tickets. They had been blabbing on the radio how this show was sold-out. But WDVE always says everything is sold-out. Over the years, I've learned that words like "sold-out", "gold-circle", "box seats", etc. blah don't mean shit. I walked over to Gate A and there was a man (I think it may have been Ohio County Commissioner David Simms) trying to get rid of 4 tickets for $160. Not a bad deal, considering they were Level A with a retail value of about $424. Jesus Christ - AC/DC tix are $106 a pop - that makes me sick. I could see this guy was a bit disillusioned. My goal was to snag 4 singles for $20 a piece, but there wasn't much action out front. 2 other women wanted $100, then $50. I ran into AJ and CHL. They had bought tix earlier for $45 a piece. Then, I saw the cops bitch at the David Simms lookalike and he moved off to the edge of the parking lot. BINGO. I approached him with 4 for a buck twenty and he acquiesced. To be honest, he was offering a great deal in the first place and I think he was just plain discouraged. Who knows how long he'd been standing there.
"Hope you guys brought your ear plugs" was a well-received comment as I got back to the car. We opted to skip the opening band (thank god). I still don't know who they were. Anyway, we hiked about 40 yards to the door and we're in. Not bad. Our seats were bad ass. Section A-11 about 5 rows off the floor. In my opinion, one section closer are the best seats in the arena. Not only were they all together, they were seats 1,2,3,4 on the aisle. Again, not bad. This is more important than usual if you're familiar with the typical AC/DC fan - Unkempt, cheap whiskey chain smoking breath, and generally loud and ugly.
Did I mention how they say everything is always sold-out and there's always a ton of seats. Well HELL to the f'in O, HELLO - this place was totally sold-out. Every seat to the top of the rafters was filled (probably 18,500 if anyone gives a damn).
Brian Johnson can still sing or well screech and Angus Young can still play. These guys have got be about 60. To be honest, my expectations were pretty low. But these guys fucking rocked it out. All the classics and a pretty good flow to the setlist. They closed with one of my all-time favorite rock songs - For Those About to Rock. I snuck a look at the setlist prior to the show. Couldn't help myself. We bolted for the car just as the cannons were firing.
Kelly called me and asked if we were still stuck in traffic. "We've been in this shit for about an hour." I replied, "No, we're at the Dallas Pike rest stop." I silently reflected, "And you paid over a hundred bucks a ticket for level E. Not bad."
As I said earlier, the last true rock concert at Mellon Arena. I can't wait for the new arena next year, but there's a ton of great memories wrapped up in the Igloo. I'll miss it.
Should have worn some ear plugs. My ears were buzzing when I hit the pillow.
AC/DC - you still rock and I will salute.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
foosball move
Yesterday I had a blast from the past. In the late 1990's during my tenure at Oglebay Village, I had a neighbor on the opposite end of my 6 unit apt. complex. I'll refrain from mentioning his name due to the sensitive nature of this post. This moron would constantly be working on his broken down car. The car functioned for maybe 8 days out of an entire year. Not the most efficient way to spend ones time. But he'd always be out there tinkering with it. Oil stains reminiscent of the Caspian Sea were a constant eyesore. He would commit to battle with an abundance of cheap cat litter, but usually fail miserably. In fact, the car itself, was an assemblage of different parts. I think it was a Mitsubishi Eclipse.
This guy, let's call him Jambalaya, fell in love with an attractive neighbor, which infuriated her live-in boyfriend. Jambalaya (he's not black, but a rather diminutive, slightly elfish white man) would always try to get her attention. Whether it be trying to trying to strike up a conversation on the way to the laundry room or asking her for a stick of margarine.
Jambalaya's apartment was almost entirely barren with the exception of a few chairs, a 19" tv and a stereo system. He'd often crank up the stereo and pretty much annoy the living fuck out of everyone. The same kinds of tunes over and over. Stuff like AC/DC - You Shook Me All Night Long, Foghat - Slowride, and newer Aerosmith were his usual selections. You see.
Jambalaya would have occasional run-ins with the police. Basically, he would drunkenly call 911 about once a month threatening to kill himself. Then, he'd take a bunch of pills. The cops would show up but couldn't get in the apartment because the door was locked and he was passed out. Sometimes, they'd have to call the landlady and get her to open up the door. Regrettably, this became routine - kind of like Andy Dufrane getting prison raped in Shawshank Redemption. My neighbor Dunkle and I would refer to Jambalaya as "suicide man." In fact, most everyone would refer to him as suicide man. A bit morbid perhaps, but there was always some degree of confusion as to what exactly his name was. Kind of like not knowing whether a guy is named Ronald or Donald, so everyone calls him McDonalds.
Anyway, yesterday I was at a dive bar downtown and saw this moron out of the corner of my eye. It had been almost a decade. We did not make speak or even make eye contact but it did evoke an extremely fond memory. Allow me to take this stroll. I beg of you...
My neighbor Dunkle and I would play a great deal of foosball. We'd make up lots of names for a wide variety of shots (Longshanks, I-70, patent, Ching Wa, R&D, Stinkface, - the list is truly endless and many of these terms are still widely used to this day). One day, after a stunning come-from-behind victory, Dunkle began to dance around the foosball table while singing "Two suicide men go round the outside, round the outside." This was a particularly joyous song and dance - he ripped off the Eminem song that starts off "Two trailer park girls go round the outside, round the outside." For a brief moment, I was overcome with emotion as we linked arms in some kind of Oglebay Village Boot, Scoot and Boogie Hoe-down. Ohh, we celebrated like liberated Iraqis witnessing the destruction of Saddam's statue.
Just goes to show you how precious life is and even if you don't think your life has any merit, you might not truly understand the impact you have on others. "Two suicide men go round the outside, round the outside." Indeed, they certainly do. From this day forth, whenever I eat Jambalaya, see a broken down Eclipse or hear that shitty Foghat song, I'll reflect on Suicide Man and think wonderful thoughts.
This guy, let's call him Jambalaya, fell in love with an attractive neighbor, which infuriated her live-in boyfriend. Jambalaya (he's not black, but a rather diminutive, slightly elfish white man) would always try to get her attention. Whether it be trying to trying to strike up a conversation on the way to the laundry room or asking her for a stick of margarine.
Jambalaya's apartment was almost entirely barren with the exception of a few chairs, a 19" tv and a stereo system. He'd often crank up the stereo and pretty much annoy the living fuck out of everyone. The same kinds of tunes over and over. Stuff like AC/DC - You Shook Me All Night Long, Foghat - Slowride, and newer Aerosmith were his usual selections. You see.
Jambalaya would have occasional run-ins with the police. Basically, he would drunkenly call 911 about once a month threatening to kill himself. Then, he'd take a bunch of pills. The cops would show up but couldn't get in the apartment because the door was locked and he was passed out. Sometimes, they'd have to call the landlady and get her to open up the door. Regrettably, this became routine - kind of like Andy Dufrane getting prison raped in Shawshank Redemption. My neighbor Dunkle and I would refer to Jambalaya as "suicide man." In fact, most everyone would refer to him as suicide man. A bit morbid perhaps, but there was always some degree of confusion as to what exactly his name was. Kind of like not knowing whether a guy is named Ronald or Donald, so everyone calls him McDonalds.
Anyway, yesterday I was at a dive bar downtown and saw this moron out of the corner of my eye. It had been almost a decade. We did not make speak or even make eye contact but it did evoke an extremely fond memory. Allow me to take this stroll. I beg of you...
My neighbor Dunkle and I would play a great deal of foosball. We'd make up lots of names for a wide variety of shots (Longshanks, I-70, patent, Ching Wa, R&D, Stinkface, - the list is truly endless and many of these terms are still widely used to this day). One day, after a stunning come-from-behind victory, Dunkle began to dance around the foosball table while singing "Two suicide men go round the outside, round the outside." This was a particularly joyous song and dance - he ripped off the Eminem song that starts off "Two trailer park girls go round the outside, round the outside." For a brief moment, I was overcome with emotion as we linked arms in some kind of Oglebay Village Boot, Scoot and Boogie Hoe-down. Ohh, we celebrated like liberated Iraqis witnessing the destruction of Saddam's statue.
Just goes to show you how precious life is and even if you don't think your life has any merit, you might not truly understand the impact you have on others. "Two suicide men go round the outside, round the outside." Indeed, they certainly do. From this day forth, whenever I eat Jambalaya, see a broken down Eclipse or hear that shitty Foghat song, I'll reflect on Suicide Man and think wonderful thoughts.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
text messaging
I know. I know. Saf, you've got to get on board. There's a technological revolution going on and you're not a part of it. It's not only informative, but it's so much fun! It's called texting! Yessssss!
A few days ago, I received about 6 text messages that all said the exact same thing - "MERRY CHRISTMAS." Aside from the fact that I'm hardcore atheist Jew, I have no idea what purpose this serves. Is it supposed to fill my heart with joy? The idea that someone took 20 seconds to type a standard, generic greeting and then hit the SEND ALL button. Am I supposed to reply to these things? Does it really help anyone if I type "GO STEELERS" and send it to everyone, including my ailing great aunt who's on a respirator in a nursing home in Chattanooga? Don't worry, no such person exists, but I think you get the drift.
I just don't get the excitement of it all. Why do people find this course of action so compelling? What do they hope to achieve? It's almost on the same level as those email chain letters - copy this message about a "mayonnaise angel" that miraculously appeared in my fucking ham'n'swiss sandwich. And lest you be condemned to eternal damnation if thou dost not send it to everyone in thy inbox. Fuck this shit.
What's even more comical is when there's a woman sitting alone in a bar frantically texting someone. They stare deep into the heart of their I-Phone and furiously hit every button conceivable in a desperate attempt to conceal the fact that they have no life. I know, it's crazy. They're trying to pretend that the weight of the world is upon their shoulders as they tediously text away. You'd better not even say hi. Human contact is of no relevance. They must finish the message. Everything depends on it. My mother must be kept fully apprised of how bad my cramps are. I need to tell my brother in Colorado that I'm so stuffed after eating 2 Big Macs.
So here's the deal. You might think it's harmless and fun to text everyone "HAPPY NEW YEAR" tomorrow at midnight. I'll have an instantaneous, lengthy response drafted, saved and ready to reply....
Fuck you, scum. The message you just sent is entirely devoid of human interest. Your attempt to generate false enthusiasm is typical of your desire to embrace AMATEUR NIGHT. Here's a New Years resolution for you. Stick that cell phone up your ass. Lemiwinks wants to text everyone...
"STRAIGHT FROM THE ASS OF MR. SLAVE, HAPPY NEW YEAR !!!"
A few days ago, I received about 6 text messages that all said the exact same thing - "MERRY CHRISTMAS." Aside from the fact that I'm hardcore atheist Jew, I have no idea what purpose this serves. Is it supposed to fill my heart with joy? The idea that someone took 20 seconds to type a standard, generic greeting and then hit the SEND ALL button. Am I supposed to reply to these things? Does it really help anyone if I type "GO STEELERS" and send it to everyone, including my ailing great aunt who's on a respirator in a nursing home in Chattanooga? Don't worry, no such person exists, but I think you get the drift.
I just don't get the excitement of it all. Why do people find this course of action so compelling? What do they hope to achieve? It's almost on the same level as those email chain letters - copy this message about a "mayonnaise angel" that miraculously appeared in my fucking ham'n'swiss sandwich. And lest you be condemned to eternal damnation if thou dost not send it to everyone in thy inbox. Fuck this shit.
What's even more comical is when there's a woman sitting alone in a bar frantically texting someone. They stare deep into the heart of their I-Phone and furiously hit every button conceivable in a desperate attempt to conceal the fact that they have no life. I know, it's crazy. They're trying to pretend that the weight of the world is upon their shoulders as they tediously text away. You'd better not even say hi. Human contact is of no relevance. They must finish the message. Everything depends on it. My mother must be kept fully apprised of how bad my cramps are. I need to tell my brother in Colorado that I'm so stuffed after eating 2 Big Macs.
So here's the deal. You might think it's harmless and fun to text everyone "HAPPY NEW YEAR" tomorrow at midnight. I'll have an instantaneous, lengthy response drafted, saved and ready to reply....
Fuck you, scum. The message you just sent is entirely devoid of human interest. Your attempt to generate false enthusiasm is typical of your desire to embrace AMATEUR NIGHT. Here's a New Years resolution for you. Stick that cell phone up your ass. Lemiwinks wants to text everyone...
"STRAIGHT FROM THE ASS OF MR. SLAVE, HAPPY NEW YEAR !!!"
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Festival of Shit
For roughly a decade I lived in a sprawling apartment complex called Oglebay Village. For those unfamiliar with The Village, it is an extensive network of federally subsidized apartments (HUD) built during the Reagan administration. It's roughly 150 apartments on about 3 acres of very expensive land. It's actually surrounded by a 5 star Arnold Palmer golf course and in close proximity to Oglebay Park as well as some of the nicest houses in Wheeling. I don't have any statistics, but this place must be one of the nicest HUD developments in the entire United States.
During the winter months, Oglebay Park proudly welcomes every grandma imaginable for what they call "The Festival of Lights." People drive from distant locations like Zanesville, Cambridge and Akron just for the opportunity to sit in traffic for 4 hours and witness this spectacle. I can sum up the entire experience in one sentence - Granny and Pap Pap saw giant candy cane. Yep, that's about it.
Now here's the deal. About 3 nights a year, the place would be a total zoo. For some reason, everyone comes on the same day. Usually the nights before Thanksgiving and Christmas. The traffic creeps along at the pace of a Golden Girls reunion tv special. There'd always be a line of cars on rt. 88 turning into the Speidel golf club. I would take this opportunity to exact revenge. I'd come flying directly at them, nailing my horn and flashing my brights. Sometimes I'd even spray my windshield wiper fluid just to get the full effect. This must have been terrifying because they probably had no idea I was turning onto Pogues Run Road. I'm sure I spoiled many visits to Oglebay and probably made people come to question our town's moniker as "The Friendly City."
Saf, why would you hate the Festival of Lights? Well, a tour bus once ran me off the road and I blew a tire. I decided that someone would have to pay even though I had no way of knowing which tour bus company was responsible. So for an entire month I took down the name of every tour bus that I saw in Oglebay. I then sent a standardized letter to about 30 companies demanding restitution with a xeroxed copy of the bill for the tire. The result was a major success. 3 companies immediately zipped me off checks for $80. About 5 wanted me to call them and/or provide further details. And the rest just ignored me. $240 - not too shabby.
My old roommate Alex and I wanted to build our own lighting display. Hidden in the distance, it would be set on a timer and light up for about 5 seconds every hour. The message would be a simple one - FUCK YOU. That shit has the makings of a real urban legend. But, it lagged in the formative planning stages and never really got off the ground.
I guess I just don't like these giant Kmart inflatable Santa Clauses and plastic reindeer ensembles. Just doesn't do it for me. And in the words of Frank Costanza, "I find tinsel distracting." Back in the Village days, we hung an inverted Christmas tree from the ceiling and decorated it with beer cans. Now, that's what I call bad ass. The tip of the tree was about 1 inch from the floor. Perfect fit.
Aside from the fact that I have no holiday spirit, I think there's a bigger issue. I've just never been one to enjoy premeditated holiday enthusiasm. Perhaps if I was a fellatio recipient under the mistletoe. Perhaps.
During the winter months, Oglebay Park proudly welcomes every grandma imaginable for what they call "The Festival of Lights." People drive from distant locations like Zanesville, Cambridge and Akron just for the opportunity to sit in traffic for 4 hours and witness this spectacle. I can sum up the entire experience in one sentence - Granny and Pap Pap saw giant candy cane. Yep, that's about it.
Now here's the deal. About 3 nights a year, the place would be a total zoo. For some reason, everyone comes on the same day. Usually the nights before Thanksgiving and Christmas. The traffic creeps along at the pace of a Golden Girls reunion tv special. There'd always be a line of cars on rt. 88 turning into the Speidel golf club. I would take this opportunity to exact revenge. I'd come flying directly at them, nailing my horn and flashing my brights. Sometimes I'd even spray my windshield wiper fluid just to get the full effect. This must have been terrifying because they probably had no idea I was turning onto Pogues Run Road. I'm sure I spoiled many visits to Oglebay and probably made people come to question our town's moniker as "The Friendly City."
Saf, why would you hate the Festival of Lights? Well, a tour bus once ran me off the road and I blew a tire. I decided that someone would have to pay even though I had no way of knowing which tour bus company was responsible. So for an entire month I took down the name of every tour bus that I saw in Oglebay. I then sent a standardized letter to about 30 companies demanding restitution with a xeroxed copy of the bill for the tire. The result was a major success. 3 companies immediately zipped me off checks for $80. About 5 wanted me to call them and/or provide further details. And the rest just ignored me. $240 - not too shabby.
My old roommate Alex and I wanted to build our own lighting display. Hidden in the distance, it would be set on a timer and light up for about 5 seconds every hour. The message would be a simple one - FUCK YOU. That shit has the makings of a real urban legend. But, it lagged in the formative planning stages and never really got off the ground.
I guess I just don't like these giant Kmart inflatable Santa Clauses and plastic reindeer ensembles. Just doesn't do it for me. And in the words of Frank Costanza, "I find tinsel distracting." Back in the Village days, we hung an inverted Christmas tree from the ceiling and decorated it with beer cans. Now, that's what I call bad ass. The tip of the tree was about 1 inch from the floor. Perfect fit.
Aside from the fact that I have no holiday spirit, I think there's a bigger issue. I've just never been one to enjoy premeditated holiday enthusiasm. Perhaps if I was a fellatio recipient under the mistletoe. Perhaps.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
list #3
Peanut Delight No Melt Suet - I've never been an aspiring ornithologist, but a few years ago my friend Ken turned me onto bird watching. I'm hardly an expert but I have developed a minor appreciated for our feathered friends. It's well worth the 30 bucks a year to throw out some bird seed. Plus, I get an occasional squirrel altercation. This suet is the best because it doesn't leave a filmy substance on your fingers. I have no interest in whether the birds prefer the suet that costs an extra 20 cents. They should appreciate my limited generosity during an economic recession.
Michelina's Budget Gourmet Angel Hair Pasta in Meat Sauce - This could possibly be the best frozen pasta. You can only get it at Reisbecks. For some reason they sell every variety at Krogers and Walmart with the exception of this one. Kind of ironic since it blows everything else away. 5 grams of fat - relatively healthy for one of those cheapo dollar pasta things.
Lone Star Beef Jerky - Hands down, the best beef jerky. Only available at the Claysville Exxon and well worth the trip. People eat some disgusting stuff when it comes to the realm of beef jerky. That Jack-Links stuff is atrocious despite having the best tv commercial of the year. The one where those guys are tormenting sasquatch on the golf course and then he assaults their golf cart. Hysterical. Slim Jim products are really disgusting and if you aren't feeling just a little embarrassed when you look into the eyes of the cashier as she scans the oily meatlike product, you have my deepest sympathies. How could a normal person emotionally rebound from something so traumatic, especially knowing that you brought this conundrum upon yourself? Honestly, we all have free will. We all make choices of our own volition. There's no reason to put yourself in a position like that. I can only envision one scenario where it would be marginally acceptable and that's if you suffer from some degree of mental retardation.
Water - I think the best brand of bottled water is Crystal Geyser. Nestle Pure Life, Roxane and Ice Mountain are decent choices as well. I'm unable to fathom why anyone would purchase Dasani. The stuff tastes like they added a ton of chemicals. I'm not sure what it is but you can really taste the iron. Perhaps it's some kind of zinc with just a hint of magnesium. I do not know.
...more consumer advice will be forthcoming.
Michelina's Budget Gourmet Angel Hair Pasta in Meat Sauce - This could possibly be the best frozen pasta. You can only get it at Reisbecks. For some reason they sell every variety at Krogers and Walmart with the exception of this one. Kind of ironic since it blows everything else away. 5 grams of fat - relatively healthy for one of those cheapo dollar pasta things.
Lone Star Beef Jerky - Hands down, the best beef jerky. Only available at the Claysville Exxon and well worth the trip. People eat some disgusting stuff when it comes to the realm of beef jerky. That Jack-Links stuff is atrocious despite having the best tv commercial of the year. The one where those guys are tormenting sasquatch on the golf course and then he assaults their golf cart. Hysterical. Slim Jim products are really disgusting and if you aren't feeling just a little embarrassed when you look into the eyes of the cashier as she scans the oily meatlike product, you have my deepest sympathies. How could a normal person emotionally rebound from something so traumatic, especially knowing that you brought this conundrum upon yourself? Honestly, we all have free will. We all make choices of our own volition. There's no reason to put yourself in a position like that. I can only envision one scenario where it would be marginally acceptable and that's if you suffer from some degree of mental retardation.
Water - I think the best brand of bottled water is Crystal Geyser. Nestle Pure Life, Roxane and Ice Mountain are decent choices as well. I'm unable to fathom why anyone would purchase Dasani. The stuff tastes like they added a ton of chemicals. I'm not sure what it is but you can really taste the iron. Perhaps it's some kind of zinc with just a hint of magnesium. I do not know.
...more consumer advice will be forthcoming.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
list #2
I can't believe I neglected to mention my other favorite soup. Oprah would frown. This Annie Chun Udon Soup Bowl is bad ass. You just need to add real meat (chicken, beef or shrimp) and vegetables (they encourage shitake mushrooms and bok choy - I concur). I'm also an admirer of the packaging. All the ingredients combine to create what the Japanese refer to as UMAMI - that ultimately delicious state when complex flavors attain perfection.
By the way, the reason I write these lists... it's called "for the betterment of fucking humanity." I truly believe that if you go to Walmart and purchase the Annie Chun Udon soup, your existence could dramatically improve or at the very least, be somewhat enhanced. That's why we're here. If you find this discourse uninformative, then in the words of a proud Wheeling Station wild teen, "Talk to wrist, because the fist is pissed!" Honestly though, I think if you go out and purchase all this shit, you'll become a better human being.
IZZE fortified (sparkling pomegranate) - This stuff is exorbitantly priced, but if you're willing to take the plunge, I will jump in as well. It's basically some kind of pomegranate fruit juice/tonic. Makes a great gin mix in absence of tonic. Add a wedge of lime, ho. I just decided to see where the stuff comes from - Boulder, Co. That about sums it up. Boulder is complete bad ass. Its only blemish is when Mork and Mindy had the giant adult baby. Unacceptable, but Izze helps.
Gotta go.
By the way, the reason I write these lists... it's called "for the betterment of fucking humanity." I truly believe that if you go to Walmart and purchase the Annie Chun Udon soup, your existence could dramatically improve or at the very least, be somewhat enhanced. That's why we're here. If you find this discourse uninformative, then in the words of a proud Wheeling Station wild teen, "Talk to wrist, because the fist is pissed!" Honestly though, I think if you go out and purchase all this shit, you'll become a better human being.
IZZE fortified (sparkling pomegranate) - This stuff is exorbitantly priced, but if you're willing to take the plunge, I will jump in as well. It's basically some kind of pomegranate fruit juice/tonic. Makes a great gin mix in absence of tonic. Add a wedge of lime, ho. I just decided to see where the stuff comes from - Boulder, Co. That about sums it up. Boulder is complete bad ass. Its only blemish is when Mork and Mindy had the giant adult baby. Unacceptable, but Izze helps.
Gotta go.
list
There's always a late surge of holiday shopping around this time, so here is a list of products and services I heartily endorse...
Crest Pro-Health Mouthwash (Refreshing clean mint) - Make sure to get the blue colored, not the green crap. Manufactured and distributed by Proctor & Gamble. They're headquartered in..... Cincinnati, Ohio.
Grandpa's Oven Santa Fe Snack Mix - This stuff is totally hidden on the bottom shelf of Walmart in the snack aisle. You've really got to keep your eyes open or you'll never find it. Very spicy for an over-the-counter snack mix.
Kit & Kaboodle Original Medley cat food - Meowee loves this stuff and I can't stand the smell of canned animal food. The worst is that Mighty Dog shit - all varieties.
Exxon gasoline - I just don't trust the Kroger brand gas even though it might be the same. I don't like the idea of getting gas at Sheetz either (local ownership issues). Although I do love the fact that it's a total eyesore for the church across the street. This area could really use a high end Chevron, not that cruddy one near Rayland.
Don Lucianno Cabernet Sauvignon - This is, hands down, the best cheap wine I've ever come across. $3.76 a bottle at Walmart. Their merlot is good too. Far superior to the $2.99 Oak winery procucts. All those "oak" wines are all the fucking same - they just change the label. Red Oaks, Trinity Oaks, Five Oaks, Oak Glen, Oak Ass, Oak-kay.
Sierra Nevada Chileno Peppers - My compliments to Uncle Ben for turning me onto this stuff. These are the best peppers I've ever eaten. Not found locally so you've got to get them off the website (brunopeppers.com). Order them on your own. I put in an order with Ben and it took 3 months and even worse, he claimed several times I never paid for them. An exceptional degree of spice - you get the perfect variety of zing but not enough to cause heartburn which brings us to the ultimate over-the-counter miracle drug...
... which is Prilosec. I use to have insane heartburn. I'd pop an absurd amount of Rolaids back in my hey-day (sp?). I think it's even healed my corroded esophageal lining. F to the mother fuckin' A! Spend the extra dollar and get the name brand stuff, not the Equate/generic Omeprazole. There really is a difference.
Canada Dry Ginger Ale - Schweppes is a decent substitute. Do not buy Seagrams and under no circumstance whatsoever purchase the Varner's crap. Disgusting.
Cascade 2in1 Action Pacs with the power of DAWN (any scent is good, but I've recently gone with Cirtrs Breeze) - These little dishwashing pouches have revolutionized the dish cleansing process. Anybody who uses those large containers of dishwashing fluid is a complete fucking idiot. It's time to step into the 90's. Jenn D. gets all the credit for showing me the way.
Brummel and Brown - Kudos to Lee Stalnaker/Roberts. She told me to try it and my life was altered. Inevitably, irrevocably altered. There was a time in the early 90's where I used Parkay. I could still go back, but it would be a difficult transition.
Top Flite XL - I've never played well with anything Titliest. I love Slazenger but can't ever seem to find them. When golfers say the word "Noodle," I get mildly annoyed.
Walmart brand Ruby Red Grapefruit juice - This is the best juice on the market and it's attractively priced at $2.00. I'll never understand why anyone would pay extra for Ocean Spray which, aside from being overpriced, is way too fucking sweet.
Starbucks Columbian brand (medium) - Always a safe choice. Do not serve me any of that mocha or spiced faggot coffee whipped cream shit. I'm not of those emo coffee drinking fucks. I drink my coffee black. No half'n'half, no sugar, no mint, nothing.
Dove soap - These people really know how to make a great bar of soap. Not positive, but I assume it's another P&G product. My father is a retired dermatologist so this is of extra importance. Neutragena products SUCK. They leave you feeling sticky and slightly despondent. It feels like you were a car that just got poorly waxed.
Mrs. Grass chicken noodle soup - the best of the chicken soup powdered ilk. Great hangover product because of the respectable salt concentration. If I'm going the canned route - it's all about Progresso Zesty Chicken Gumbo. Either way, you're a winner.
Coke - Never get it in a plastic bottle. Hard to fathom why, but Coke in a can just tastes better.
I'd also like to recommend the low fat versions of Hillshire Farms Polska Kielbasa and, Marzetti's Light Ranch Dip. Once again, one of those oddities. The regular, more fattening versions, just aren't as tasty.
Alright, I must go to the 19th Ho to watch the second half of the Steelers/Titans game.
Crest Pro-Health Mouthwash (Refreshing clean mint) - Make sure to get the blue colored, not the green crap. Manufactured and distributed by Proctor & Gamble. They're headquartered in..... Cincinnati, Ohio.
Grandpa's Oven Santa Fe Snack Mix - This stuff is totally hidden on the bottom shelf of Walmart in the snack aisle. You've really got to keep your eyes open or you'll never find it. Very spicy for an over-the-counter snack mix.
Kit & Kaboodle Original Medley cat food - Meowee loves this stuff and I can't stand the smell of canned animal food. The worst is that Mighty Dog shit - all varieties.
Exxon gasoline - I just don't trust the Kroger brand gas even though it might be the same. I don't like the idea of getting gas at Sheetz either (local ownership issues). Although I do love the fact that it's a total eyesore for the church across the street. This area could really use a high end Chevron, not that cruddy one near Rayland.
Don Lucianno Cabernet Sauvignon - This is, hands down, the best cheap wine I've ever come across. $3.76 a bottle at Walmart. Their merlot is good too. Far superior to the $2.99 Oak winery procucts. All those "oak" wines are all the fucking same - they just change the label. Red Oaks, Trinity Oaks, Five Oaks, Oak Glen, Oak Ass, Oak-kay.
Sierra Nevada Chileno Peppers - My compliments to Uncle Ben for turning me onto this stuff. These are the best peppers I've ever eaten. Not found locally so you've got to get them off the website (brunopeppers.com). Order them on your own. I put in an order with Ben and it took 3 months and even worse, he claimed several times I never paid for them. An exceptional degree of spice - you get the perfect variety of zing but not enough to cause heartburn which brings us to the ultimate over-the-counter miracle drug...
... which is Prilosec. I use to have insane heartburn. I'd pop an absurd amount of Rolaids back in my hey-day (sp?). I think it's even healed my corroded esophageal lining. F to the mother fuckin' A! Spend the extra dollar and get the name brand stuff, not the Equate/generic Omeprazole. There really is a difference.
Canada Dry Ginger Ale - Schweppes is a decent substitute. Do not buy Seagrams and under no circumstance whatsoever purchase the Varner's crap. Disgusting.
Cascade 2in1 Action Pacs with the power of DAWN (any scent is good, but I've recently gone with Cirtrs Breeze) - These little dishwashing pouches have revolutionized the dish cleansing process. Anybody who uses those large containers of dishwashing fluid is a complete fucking idiot. It's time to step into the 90's. Jenn D. gets all the credit for showing me the way.
Brummel and Brown - Kudos to Lee Stalnaker/Roberts. She told me to try it and my life was altered. Inevitably, irrevocably altered. There was a time in the early 90's where I used Parkay. I could still go back, but it would be a difficult transition.
Top Flite XL - I've never played well with anything Titliest. I love Slazenger but can't ever seem to find them. When golfers say the word "Noodle," I get mildly annoyed.
Walmart brand Ruby Red Grapefruit juice - This is the best juice on the market and it's attractively priced at $2.00. I'll never understand why anyone would pay extra for Ocean Spray which, aside from being overpriced, is way too fucking sweet.
Starbucks Columbian brand (medium) - Always a safe choice. Do not serve me any of that mocha or spiced faggot coffee whipped cream shit. I'm not of those emo coffee drinking fucks. I drink my coffee black. No half'n'half, no sugar, no mint, nothing.
Dove soap - These people really know how to make a great bar of soap. Not positive, but I assume it's another P&G product. My father is a retired dermatologist so this is of extra importance. Neutragena products SUCK. They leave you feeling sticky and slightly despondent. It feels like you were a car that just got poorly waxed.
Mrs. Grass chicken noodle soup - the best of the chicken soup powdered ilk. Great hangover product because of the respectable salt concentration. If I'm going the canned route - it's all about Progresso Zesty Chicken Gumbo. Either way, you're a winner.
Coke - Never get it in a plastic bottle. Hard to fathom why, but Coke in a can just tastes better.
I'd also like to recommend the low fat versions of Hillshire Farms Polska Kielbasa and, Marzetti's Light Ranch Dip. Once again, one of those oddities. The regular, more fattening versions, just aren't as tasty.
Alright, I must go to the 19th Ho to watch the second half of the Steelers/Titans game.
Friday, December 19, 2008
NFL playoff sheet
I have decided to do another NFL playoff football sheet this year. Basically you just track your winners through the brackets: 1 point for each correct wildcard: 2 points for divisional: 3 for championship: 4 for Superbowl. Superbowl point total is the tiebreaker, regardless of who plays (I know, not the most scientific, and it probably won't be needed anyway).
Make sure you understand the seeding if you pick an upset. It will all be spelled out on the sheet and I"m pretty observant about making sure nobody fucks it up.
5 buck entry fee. Winner take all. I'm predicting 38 entries which puts the payout at $190 - Just a guess. I only have a week to get it done, so it largely depends on who I run into.
I'd say about 60% the people who participate will enjoy the experience. About 25% will not even give a remote fuck. 10% will do it just so I leave them alone. 5% will make poor picks and annoyingly complain about the outcome to anyone who will listen regardless of the fact that it's only 5 bucks.
I haven't decided if I will participate. I probably will and offer a copy of my pics on my blog or thewimp.org for verification purposes.
Make sure you understand the seeding if you pick an upset. It will all be spelled out on the sheet and I"m pretty observant about making sure nobody fucks it up.
5 buck entry fee. Winner take all. I'm predicting 38 entries which puts the payout at $190 - Just a guess. I only have a week to get it done, so it largely depends on who I run into.
I'd say about 60% the people who participate will enjoy the experience. About 25% will not even give a remote fuck. 10% will do it just so I leave them alone. 5% will make poor picks and annoyingly complain about the outcome to anyone who will listen regardless of the fact that it's only 5 bucks.
I haven't decided if I will participate. I probably will and offer a copy of my pics on my blog or thewimp.org for verification purposes.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
local holiday food advice
Way back when, this used to be a restaurant review blog. Over the course of three years, I've touched on a few topics - local dining, concert reviews, political observations and some religious bullshit. Well, in a special sonofsaf holiday tribute, I will harkin back to my earliest roots. People often approach me and say, "SAF, WHERE'S THE MEATLOAF? WE WANT IT NOW! SAF, THE MEATLOAF! FUCK!" Truth be told, I can't think of any place in Wheeling to order award-winning meatloaf. However, I thought to myself - Saf (that's actually how I silently refer to myself in my own head) - as I was saying, Saf, maybe you should make up a list of Wheeling culinary delights. That way, if someone wants to know where to get great cole slaw, I'll be able to acces the blog and say, "T.J's Sportsgarden is known for its famous cole slaw! It's deh-lish!" Yeah, like I would ever say anything so preposterous. Hell, I'm still encouraging people to puke in their popcorn machine. So anyway, without further adieu, here's the list...
I'll start with some of the more basics.
CHICKEN - I recently acquired salmonella poisoning, so I thought this would be the best place to start. The best chicken is easy to find. Go to Riesbeck's, the one in the Elm Grove Crossing Mall is good, but I imagine they're all the same. The one in St. C. is pretty nice. I'm not sure if anyone even goes to the one in deep Bridgeport. Riesbeck's has the best fried chicken in the area. Hands down. I don't know if it's because Grandma Riesbeck had a ghetto booty or what, but if ever asked to procure a bucket of fried chicken - it's off to Riesbeck's. Call ahead, asshole! They have superior grocery store brand chicken as well. Make sure you get Park Farms, not that Tyson nonsense and screw Roundy's brand or whatever they call themselves these days. As for frozen Banquet Fried TV Dinners - buy them if you're planning an extensive stay.... in an insane asylum. Disgusting.
STEAK - Where would I go get the best steak in the valley? Probably Outback, although Figaretti's serves up a great steak. Keep in mind, all these recommendations are based on a totality of factors, not just cost. If it was only about price, it's easy to just recommend the most expensive choice (this is actually a real mediculinary condition known as Lobsteritus; a tendency to order the most expensive item on the entire menu, generally the lobster). I try to take everything into consideration (atmosphere, service, cleanliness of the establishment, etc. blah).
SALAD - This one is way too easy. For a fantastic salad, there is only one option - The Metropolitan Grill. Sure, there's a potential for bizarre service and I once even saw some barefoot dumbshit in there, but all in all, you just can't get a better salad. All are freshly prepared and each deserves our praise and adulation. I've never ordered takeout but I'm imagine they've got it under control - a great way to avoid your typical shoeless West Virginia fuck.
PIZZA - It's borderline retarded to get into the never-ending "which Dicarlos is the best" debate for a few reasons. First, there pizza just really isn't that great. It's more of a novelty, kind of like Moondog Food. I grew up on the stuff and it's certainly edible but then again, so is a saltine slathered with tomato paste, sprinkled with mozz-a-mate. I'd probably say the best pizza is that Everything Pizza from DeFelice or the gourmet spinach pizza from Pizza Outlet/Vella's or whatever they call the place near the old GC Murphy building. You're probably thinking - didn't Defelice win the Best Pizza in the World competition a few years ago. Yep, they have the newspaper article on the wall. Not surprisingly, it from the Wheeling Intelligencer (an award winning publication in its own right). I'm still not sure if this Best Pizza in the Universe competition was properly sanctioned, but I have no proof otherwise. I would not go to Pizza Hut, but if you must, don't go to the one in Bridgeport. It's ALWAYS totally deserted. I was once exiting the Pizza Hut in Elm Grove and there was this older woman leaning against my Jeep Cherokee. She was eating some kind of fucking ham salad sandwich. There's maybe 4 cars in a 50 spot parking lot and she's eating her lunch on my car. Anyway, I looked at my buddy and said check this out. I hit the panic button and the horn starts blaring. She lurched forward and her sandwich went sailing. The horns on those Jeeps are LOUD. She looked at us and gave me the finger. I just calmly got in my car and drove off. And if you ever financially support Dominos Pizza in anyway whatsoever, thou shalt be gang raped by Al-Quada terrorists or at the very least, Taliban hardliners.
This is called getting back to the basics, or some might even say, takin' it to the streets. I'll be back soon with a rousing, invigorating discussion on some of the following: Ribs, fresh fruit (specifically fresh fucking pineapple), meatball subs, Chinese food and possibly salty snacks and/or chewing gum.
I'll start with some of the more basics.
CHICKEN - I recently acquired salmonella poisoning, so I thought this would be the best place to start. The best chicken is easy to find. Go to Riesbeck's, the one in the Elm Grove Crossing Mall is good, but I imagine they're all the same. The one in St. C. is pretty nice. I'm not sure if anyone even goes to the one in deep Bridgeport. Riesbeck's has the best fried chicken in the area. Hands down. I don't know if it's because Grandma Riesbeck had a ghetto booty or what, but if ever asked to procure a bucket of fried chicken - it's off to Riesbeck's. Call ahead, asshole! They have superior grocery store brand chicken as well. Make sure you get Park Farms, not that Tyson nonsense and screw Roundy's brand or whatever they call themselves these days. As for frozen Banquet Fried TV Dinners - buy them if you're planning an extensive stay.... in an insane asylum. Disgusting.
STEAK - Where would I go get the best steak in the valley? Probably Outback, although Figaretti's serves up a great steak. Keep in mind, all these recommendations are based on a totality of factors, not just cost. If it was only about price, it's easy to just recommend the most expensive choice (this is actually a real mediculinary condition known as Lobsteritus; a tendency to order the most expensive item on the entire menu, generally the lobster). I try to take everything into consideration (atmosphere, service, cleanliness of the establishment, etc. blah).
SALAD - This one is way too easy. For a fantastic salad, there is only one option - The Metropolitan Grill. Sure, there's a potential for bizarre service and I once even saw some barefoot dumbshit in there, but all in all, you just can't get a better salad. All are freshly prepared and each deserves our praise and adulation. I've never ordered takeout but I'm imagine they've got it under control - a great way to avoid your typical shoeless West Virginia fuck.
PIZZA - It's borderline retarded to get into the never-ending "which Dicarlos is the best" debate for a few reasons. First, there pizza just really isn't that great. It's more of a novelty, kind of like Moondog Food. I grew up on the stuff and it's certainly edible but then again, so is a saltine slathered with tomato paste, sprinkled with mozz-a-mate. I'd probably say the best pizza is that Everything Pizza from DeFelice or the gourmet spinach pizza from Pizza Outlet/Vella's or whatever they call the place near the old GC Murphy building. You're probably thinking - didn't Defelice win the Best Pizza in the World competition a few years ago. Yep, they have the newspaper article on the wall. Not surprisingly, it from the Wheeling Intelligencer (an award winning publication in its own right). I'm still not sure if this Best Pizza in the Universe competition was properly sanctioned, but I have no proof otherwise. I would not go to Pizza Hut, but if you must, don't go to the one in Bridgeport. It's ALWAYS totally deserted. I was once exiting the Pizza Hut in Elm Grove and there was this older woman leaning against my Jeep Cherokee. She was eating some kind of fucking ham salad sandwich. There's maybe 4 cars in a 50 spot parking lot and she's eating her lunch on my car. Anyway, I looked at my buddy and said check this out. I hit the panic button and the horn starts blaring. She lurched forward and her sandwich went sailing. The horns on those Jeeps are LOUD. She looked at us and gave me the finger. I just calmly got in my car and drove off. And if you ever financially support Dominos Pizza in anyway whatsoever, thou shalt be gang raped by Al-Quada terrorists or at the very least, Taliban hardliners.
This is called getting back to the basics, or some might even say, takin' it to the streets. I'll be back soon with a rousing, invigorating discussion on some of the following: Ribs, fresh fruit (specifically fresh fucking pineapple), meatball subs, Chinese food and possibly salty snacks and/or chewing gum.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
food poisoning
God only knows why I would write about this. I got hit with a severe case of food poisoning on Wednesday afternoon. I had forgotten what it felt like. Last time I came down with this shit, I was in Ecuador with my mother roughly ten years ago. I ate some kind of luke-cold fish appetizer while en route back to Quito. Needless to say, I was down for the count. I'll spare everyone the intimate details. Fortunately, it occurred at the end of the trip. Though it did make for miserable return to the states.
Well, a decade later, I got hit again. I was at my favorite watering hole Tuesday evening and ordered the chicken portabella to go. I absolutely devoured the whole thing when I got home. I was a bit intoxicated, but from what I can recall it tasted fine. Basically, it consisted of a side of broccoli, rice pilaf and chicken with a layer of provolone and portabella. I order this stuff (or a corned beef reuben) on a regular basis. In retrospect, it was probably a poor idea to order chicken so close to Thanksgiving. I doubt many people are ordering chicken after stuffing their faces with turkey for the past week. My bad. I did add some pine nuts to the rice, but I can't fathom that having any impact whatsoever. I would later see these same pine nuts as I projectile vomited on a few different occasions. I also ate a small amount of pasta salad Wednesday afternoon, but I don't think that had impact either. I refuse to discuss the other aspect of the food poisoning (has to be salmonella), but it required about 22 brief trips to the restroom. I think you get the point.
A few observations about my ordeal. First of all, Meowee was a pillar of strength. She followed me to the bathroom all night. I think she new something was terribly wrong and wanted to lend me her support. Another observation - food poisoning is probably one of the best excuses to give an employer when you're trying to get out of work. It's a temporary ailment which is difficult to verify and usually does not require a doctors visit. In this day and age with cellphone video technology, it's easy to document the adverse reactions (shitting and puking). Now I realize nobody of normal, sound mind would want to see this stuff unfold, but if you were being questioned by your employer and they doubted your veracity - well, there you go. Here's the proof. Let's roll the videotape. It would certainly lend credence to any future sick days. I'm not advocating this course of action. I just think it's an interesting angle considering the prevalence and ease of cellular technology.
Finally, food poisoning totally sucks. Though I did drop a couple of pounds, I wouldn't recommend it as a credible way to lose weight. I haven't eaten anything whatsoever (except the side of pasta salad) in about 30 hours. I made some coffee but only had a cup. The stuff is just too acidic. Right now I'm having some black tea, compliments of Bendy. I'm still experiencing some residual affects but, by and large, I feel way better. I think I'll eat some crackers in a few hours.
Well, a decade later, I got hit again. I was at my favorite watering hole Tuesday evening and ordered the chicken portabella to go. I absolutely devoured the whole thing when I got home. I was a bit intoxicated, but from what I can recall it tasted fine. Basically, it consisted of a side of broccoli, rice pilaf and chicken with a layer of provolone and portabella. I order this stuff (or a corned beef reuben) on a regular basis. In retrospect, it was probably a poor idea to order chicken so close to Thanksgiving. I doubt many people are ordering chicken after stuffing their faces with turkey for the past week. My bad. I did add some pine nuts to the rice, but I can't fathom that having any impact whatsoever. I would later see these same pine nuts as I projectile vomited on a few different occasions. I also ate a small amount of pasta salad Wednesday afternoon, but I don't think that had impact either. I refuse to discuss the other aspect of the food poisoning (has to be salmonella), but it required about 22 brief trips to the restroom. I think you get the point.
A few observations about my ordeal. First of all, Meowee was a pillar of strength. She followed me to the bathroom all night. I think she new something was terribly wrong and wanted to lend me her support. Another observation - food poisoning is probably one of the best excuses to give an employer when you're trying to get out of work. It's a temporary ailment which is difficult to verify and usually does not require a doctors visit. In this day and age with cellphone video technology, it's easy to document the adverse reactions (shitting and puking). Now I realize nobody of normal, sound mind would want to see this stuff unfold, but if you were being questioned by your employer and they doubted your veracity - well, there you go. Here's the proof. Let's roll the videotape. It would certainly lend credence to any future sick days. I'm not advocating this course of action. I just think it's an interesting angle considering the prevalence and ease of cellular technology.
Finally, food poisoning totally sucks. Though I did drop a couple of pounds, I wouldn't recommend it as a credible way to lose weight. I haven't eaten anything whatsoever (except the side of pasta salad) in about 30 hours. I made some coffee but only had a cup. The stuff is just too acidic. Right now I'm having some black tea, compliments of Bendy. I'm still experiencing some residual affects but, by and large, I feel way better. I think I'll eat some crackers in a few hours.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
information
Anyone who has visited my home is aware of one thing. I've always wanted to use the walls as a source of information. When I moved in a few years ago, the entire house was this ugly shade of sea foam green. Every room was this putrid color. Hell, even the carpet is all sea foam green. Normally, I don't care much about trivial matters like this - "Ooohh, what a lovely shade of burgundy. Yeah, that lavender really accents your toilet." Stuff like this means absolutely nothing to me. So I embarked on a mission. Try to use the walls of my home to convey something relatively meaningful.
The bedroom is still under construction. Other than the ticket stubs, commentaries and Dead info, I've been considering going with a mural but can't quite seem to come up with a solid concept. I'll probably just go with the sports logos and band names and keep it consistent.
The wall of corks in the kitchen has exceeded my expectations. The abundance of different contributors have provided an inclusive feel. And the cross of purity offers an ironic twist. Embrace the absurd. Why not?
The recreational rooms offer plenty of scorekeeping. The garage walkway now has the equa-distant 50 U.S. license plates. The refrigerator maintains its interactive status but is getting a little old.
Here's what I'm thinking - the hallway downstairs. I want to do free-handed (preferably traced) drawings of all the continents - including the countries, capitals, bodies of water and possibly historic monuments (Great Wall of China, pyramids, etc.). They actually sell these overpriced wall maps at Ikea, but that would be pretty uninspired. Plus, I wouldn't necessarily be drawing each continent to scale. Is it really necessary to have a huge Antartica. Australia need not be overly complex. Anyway, it wouldn't take that long. Knock off one continent per week. Probably skip North America and focus on a more universal theme. This idea is still in the formative stages. Any input would be appreciated. Hopefully, "anonymous" will not suggest an anatomically correct nude drawing of the entire Obama family, but is well within his free speech internet rights.
The bedroom is still under construction. Other than the ticket stubs, commentaries and Dead info, I've been considering going with a mural but can't quite seem to come up with a solid concept. I'll probably just go with the sports logos and band names and keep it consistent.
The wall of corks in the kitchen has exceeded my expectations. The abundance of different contributors have provided an inclusive feel. And the cross of purity offers an ironic twist. Embrace the absurd. Why not?
The recreational rooms offer plenty of scorekeeping. The garage walkway now has the equa-distant 50 U.S. license plates. The refrigerator maintains its interactive status but is getting a little old.
Here's what I'm thinking - the hallway downstairs. I want to do free-handed (preferably traced) drawings of all the continents - including the countries, capitals, bodies of water and possibly historic monuments (Great Wall of China, pyramids, etc.). They actually sell these overpriced wall maps at Ikea, but that would be pretty uninspired. Plus, I wouldn't necessarily be drawing each continent to scale. Is it really necessary to have a huge Antartica. Australia need not be overly complex. Anyway, it wouldn't take that long. Knock off one continent per week. Probably skip North America and focus on a more universal theme. This idea is still in the formative stages. Any input would be appreciated. Hopefully, "anonymous" will not suggest an anatomically correct nude drawing of the entire Obama family, but is well within his free speech internet rights.
Monday, November 17, 2008
misc.
Many have asked, "Saf, where are the pictures? Where is the music? Where is the glitter and emoticonal excitement?" How come you never talk about personal stuff or give us a glimpse into your sordid past? Why the fuck do you only write about shit that nobody gives a fuck? I'll admit, these are some valid questions. This seems like a particularly good time to address them since the Browns are playing the Bills on MNF. Nobody cares about that either. Actually, in that regard, I think I'm onto something. It's pretty obvious that the Browns are out of the playoffs this year and Romeo Crennel is on his way out. The question of course - who will replace him. The answer has never been so obvious. Bill Cowher will coach the Cleveland Browns next year. Yes, you heard it here. Cowher will be back. His stock will never be any higher. I think they'll also offer him a record contract. Not only would it be great for the NFL, it would reintroduce old rivalries with Pittsburgh and Baltimore. Plus, he used to play for Clevelend (special teams for a year I think). Plus, I think he'd just embrace it - he has a flair for the drama (with the cheating on his wife with his secretary bit) and loves the high profile. The timing has never been better. The NFL has this strange "what comes around goes around" aura. Just something to think about. It certainly would adhere to the sonofsaf "laws of universal balance" theory.
Meanwhile, back to the personal stuff.
I've been contemplating a major refrigerator overhaul. What's the deal? Am I going to get the icemaker fixed - No. Am I planing an upgrade - No. Maybe it's the outside - all those pictures of celebrity heads and the magnetic dress-up interactive status - No. Here's what I have planned. I'm thinking about starting a row of Coors Light alongside the Miller Lite. No one has preached the merits of Miller Lite the way I have, up until now. I've had about 3 Coors Lights in the past 2 weeks. They're really not that bad. Plus, I like the excitement of the silvery can. And they're also kind of narrow which bodes well for a decently stocked frig. They currently have the best beer commercials as well - where they misuse past NFL coach press conference footage.
What's up with the corks? When will it end? The answer - IT NEVER ENDS. As long as I can draw breath or pick up a glue gun. Some would say, they're TAKING OVER. And now, with the revelation of differential low and high lighting settings on the Cross of Purity - let us just say it has "merely begun." If you have wine corks, I want them. If you don't drink wine, please start.
Meanwhile, back to the personal stuff.
I've been contemplating a major refrigerator overhaul. What's the deal? Am I going to get the icemaker fixed - No. Am I planing an upgrade - No. Maybe it's the outside - all those pictures of celebrity heads and the magnetic dress-up interactive status - No. Here's what I have planned. I'm thinking about starting a row of Coors Light alongside the Miller Lite. No one has preached the merits of Miller Lite the way I have, up until now. I've had about 3 Coors Lights in the past 2 weeks. They're really not that bad. Plus, I like the excitement of the silvery can. And they're also kind of narrow which bodes well for a decently stocked frig. They currently have the best beer commercials as well - where they misuse past NFL coach press conference footage.
What's up with the corks? When will it end? The answer - IT NEVER ENDS. As long as I can draw breath or pick up a glue gun. Some would say, they're TAKING OVER. And now, with the revelation of differential low and high lighting settings on the Cross of Purity - let us just say it has "merely begun." If you have wine corks, I want them. If you don't drink wine, please start.
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