This is a fun lil' header I stole from MD, and by proxy MO. (What is up with the transplanted M's, I tellya)
Moda told me a funny story about being 14 and hormonal which I'll refrain from sharing here (It's damn...damn funny), but aren't girls and boys little drama queens? All that frass, and hormones, and anger, and caution, and impressionable mind-age...I admired kids that could stay focused and on-course. Heck, to a much lesser extent I admired parents that not only worked their butts off but also worked to keep their kids focused. (To be fair, during one of my teenage arguments with my parents my mother pointed out the glaring fact that as much pain and suffering I believed I was going through "You got it pretty good, kiddo. Has your father or I ever made you do anything you didn't want to? Made you get a job?"
So with hindsight being what it is, meaning "sight from behind", I thought I'd give 14 year old "me" a few pernters to ease them through the insufferable time known as adolescence.
1) Lose the mullet. I know your big brother had one. I know that it's because you loooove "MacGuyver". And you play hockey. It's just...dumb.
2) Mikey sez chillax. You are so wound up, dude. Tighter than a snare drum. Look at you. I know that you started lifting weights at the Y to help your own weight (more on that in a sec) but do you have to start walking around like you have a stick up yer butt?
Remember last year? When you were thirteen? You were at the acme of your weirdness. You loved horror movies. You wore trenchcoats and fedoras without shame or irony. (Which would probably flag you for a psych screen nowadays) You amassed a pin collection. You stuffed your pockets with crap like switchblade combs and Circus game tokens and silly putty. (Like you were Doctor Who. ) Your walls were littered in comic books. You wore Hawaiian Shirts and hipster cartoon t-shirts... with jams. You weren't embarrassed by mom and dad. Hell, son. You were cool before hipsters were all doing that anyway. And isn't that what it's all about, really? Being cool by being you? What does this mean?
3) You aren't defined by your clothes. By next year, you'll have adopted this revolting habit of owning 4 pairs of Girbaud in different color schemes. (Blue, Dark Blue, Black, and...wait for it- White. Jesus, little me. You owned white jeans.) But if I'm catching you at the right time, you won't have had mom drop you off at the Brookdale Dayton's with your friends as you make your first purchase with your allowance money- An $80 pair of jeans. That are apparently all the rage because they have a little white strip on the dick area that says "Girbaud". At least "Guess" kept their logo on the ass so that people could be subtle when their gaze dropped to the not-so-indiscrete label.
County Seat Outlet in Crystal wasn't so bad, was it? Yeah, all the MG and Plymouth brats were wearing $65 Ralph Lauren polo shirts. $90 Air Jordans. $26 Nike T-shirts. So what. Here's a hint- Levis? Become cool again in like, 15 minutes. And they stay cool. (Granted, some of the cuts kind of suck) And you wind up a Gap/Thrift store whore anyway. Let the rabble worry about fashion. You wanna really freak kids out? Start wearing ties to school, man. Be that kid.
4) Eat better. If I'm not mistaken, the seedlings of dysmorphia started around now. It was doofy at first...you'd hug your 1 week/phone calls 'til 2am girlfriend and she'd tease you about your "love handles". Swim class was a nightmare because it seemed like all the other kids were skinny and you were the only one who looked like a stuffed sausage. So what did you do? You'd have an Carnation instant breakfast in the morning, a single serve carton of 2% milk for lunch, and then you'd wait until after 4pm so you could eat what? A box of pizza rolls? An entire Totino's pizza? It's cool that you stopped with the "3 Cheeseburgers and a Mt. Dew" at (insert fast food restaurant) but for fooks sake. You took home ec. You have been HOME EC'd! No one is asking you to cook dinners, but you need to eat better. Why?
You hit a growth spurt toward the end of 8th grade and shoot up about 3 inches or so. The baby fat goes away, coupled with your newfound liking of the free weight area of the gym.
5) Be nice to girls. Really nice. Like, act opposite of how your natural instinct to act b/c you're proving those nutty shrinks who like to say "when they're being 'mean', they really mean they like you" right. Remember 'Nettie? Probably didn't like being called "Dognette". And Koreney? She really liked you. She was pretty, and tall, and awkward and probably coulda done well with some kind words. And you were just flat-out training-bra snapping mean. Why you waited until you were 16 to start to develop your all-new old cheap moves is beyond me. Everybody appreciates compliments, even if they think they're bullshit.
6) Kiss Angie Weaver. Remember how mad she was when you were hanging out when you were 16 that you didn't do anything? It takes practice to get good, and that way you won't kiss like a guppy when you smooch Tracy next year at the Sadie Hawkins dance.
7) Like math more. I know you had "Schatzy the Nazi" who had the whole schtick when you'd ask if you can go to the bathroom "I don't know, can you?" and you patently hated him, but you can tune him out and check your answers instead of treating each assignment like it was a personal affront to your character. It will help you later. Why?
8) Start paying attention to your $, getting a savings/checking account, and start watching what and where you spend. You were 2 merit badges and a project away from getting your Eagle Scout. And guess what was one of those badges? That's right. "Personal Management." I'm not saying it set the pattern to how you lived your future years, but understanding budgeting/credit/savings at an early age would have probably helped you later in life. Oh. By the way? Not getting your Eagle Scout? Hmmm...
9) Finish what you started. Remember how you got huffy when RSvP was denied his Eagle project so you decided to say "Eff the Scouts" and stop going? What...I mean, what kind of excuse is that? C'mon, man. It'll bleed into later life. By setting the goals and finishing will leave you with a larger sense of accomplishment than false entitlement or indignation.
10) Get a job. Sooner. Like, summer work. F#ck it. Mow lawns. Adopt a work ethic early and increase your disposable income.
11) Quit football. Really, the social standing doesn't get impressive until High School and you have a shitty season your junior and senior year. Get into s#it that you'll enjoy. Karate. You've been pretending you know it anyway. Dancing. You covet the B-boys at school anyway with their sweet moves. Voice lessons...oh, that last one? Yeah, time to quit band as well. The girls are cuter, and you're a much better singer than percussionist anyway.
12) This is gonna be a hard one. Don't believe the hype. Your, uh, "best friend"? Learned to play the games before you did. And subsequently, b/c of his manipulations you got involved in some really stupid shit. You went with your gut on a few but your trusting nature kept you from keeping this guy at arms length. Because really? He was doing it b/c of his own girl issues.
Here's a rule of thumb. You know how mistrustful we can be. And I don't want to jade your optimism or make you think everyone has an angle/is out to dick you over. However in this case? They all are. See, a lot of these kids are learning about human conditioning and aren't going to mellow out on their own until they get to high school. Hell, some of them will probably wait until college. And beyond. And sadder still? The ones that don't leave it at all.
The high road is a good one to take. It gives you a birds eye view of the rabble. So keep smiling and optimistic, but not foolish. B/C some 14 year old dipshit or their toadie is going to try to see if they can "get you" to go to the drug store to buy condoms, then wait by the back of the school with your pants down b/c so and so wants to have the sex. Teens are mean f#ckers.
13) Take Spanish. Much more practical. German is all like "muck-muck-muck-muck".
14) Here's the 2nd toughest lesson and one I'll end on: Life isn't fair. At all. The minute you accept that and assert more control over your life, the better off you'll be. From this point on in your life to when you graduate from High School- from an academic stand point- you'll probably act like the rest of the yahoo's who pretend to hate school and can't wait to get out. Here's a hint- You actually have fun if you want to. The guys who were dicks end up being pretty nice to you because of the other things you're good at. Like making them laugh. And not in a "mean" way that they're used to. You do it with your brain. Have fun because you can. Be nice because you can. Life is short, man. You don't know everything there is to know and that's why you're in school. Shit, you won't know jack until you are farrrrr out of college. So better prepare now.
Oh, and when Brian invites you to that party over the summer. Say "no". Bad, bad, all bad. Let that dude get into trouble on his own.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
More merry mom-ment...
Our final story takes place in 2002, when I grew past my childhood embarrassment and had mom accompany me to London. (After embarrassing her on the flight by taking a sleeping aid, having a cocktail, passing out, and being the drooling bane of our flight attendants existince. My finest hour...or 7)
We were pokey on the day we were to head to the bus station for our Stonehenge tour and upon exiting the tube station we made haste. (As much as a woman walking with a cane can make haste. Oh, note to traveler's? You would not beLIEVE the lines we were able to skip due to my travelling with an infirm little old lady w/cane. I should be a frakkin' travel guide. Like, okay...when you get to Disneyworld the FIRST thing you should do is rent a motorized scooter even if you're in the peak of health. Coming up with a backstory will help. And a lightweight blanket to cover your "withered" legs...yeah. Tips. SUCK IT, Rick Steves!)
As we were getting ready to cross the street I managed to look left, then right to check for traffic- a tip I learned from the book "Patriot Games" (Thank you Tom Clancy. Those wacky Brits drive like they're in an MC Escher painting for pities sake! On the WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD no less. Probably hopped up on tea or something) Unfortunately, mom had not read that particular thriller and looked right first before taking a HUGE step out into the street...and riiiiight in front of the double-decker bus that I had just seen barrelling down on her.
I muttered a quick "ohshit!" before grabbing her collar quick like a bun-bun and yerking her back onto the sidewalk. The following quick exchange took place as I nearly passed out from my heart beating so fast.
Mom- "Whoa...did you see that?"
Me- "I DID! I KNOW! I SAW THAT!" (Shouting is a by-product of a nervous condition in yours truly)
Mom- "I was nearly hit!" (She was pretty excited at this point. Which ticked me off more. Which is why I responded thusly)
Moi- "Do you have any IDEA how MUCH it costs to ship a body BACK to the US?"
We love her.
Thanks, mom. For rides to sporting events, taking me to my first play, and for never calling my GI Joes "Dolls". xo
We were pokey on the day we were to head to the bus station for our Stonehenge tour and upon exiting the tube station we made haste. (As much as a woman walking with a cane can make haste. Oh, note to traveler's? You would not beLIEVE the lines we were able to skip due to my travelling with an infirm little old lady w/cane. I should be a frakkin' travel guide. Like, okay...when you get to Disneyworld the FIRST thing you should do is rent a motorized scooter even if you're in the peak of health. Coming up with a backstory will help. And a lightweight blanket to cover your "withered" legs...yeah. Tips. SUCK IT, Rick Steves!)
As we were getting ready to cross the street I managed to look left, then right to check for traffic- a tip I learned from the book "Patriot Games" (Thank you Tom Clancy. Those wacky Brits drive like they're in an MC Escher painting for pities sake! On the WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD no less. Probably hopped up on tea or something) Unfortunately, mom had not read that particular thriller and looked right first before taking a HUGE step out into the street...and riiiiight in front of the double-decker bus that I had just seen barrelling down on her.
I muttered a quick "ohshit!" before grabbing her collar quick like a bun-bun and yerking her back onto the sidewalk. The following quick exchange took place as I nearly passed out from my heart beating so fast.
Mom- "Whoa...did you see that?"
Me- "I DID! I KNOW! I SAW THAT!" (Shouting is a by-product of a nervous condition in yours truly)
Mom- "I was nearly hit!" (She was pretty excited at this point. Which ticked me off more. Which is why I responded thusly)
Moi- "Do you have any IDEA how MUCH it costs to ship a body BACK to the US?"
We love her.
Thanks, mom. For rides to sporting events, taking me to my first play, and for never calling my GI Joes "Dolls". xo
Returning to yer mom jokes..
Sue me. I've been hyper busy here at work, I had to finish up Improv classes, AND trying to get ready for Summer at home- all while trying to train for that skeery half-marathon in June. Busy Bobby, I am.
I meant to post a Mother's Day blog, and seeing how it's now two weeks late I feel like I finally have time to scribble about it. As I said to my mother at the Bonfire Grill back on the 9th, improv was fun but I'd like to try my hand at sketch comedy writing. Her classic mom-inator response: "Well...it's usually pretty funny and good. When you aren't writing about working out or food."
Bah-dum, ching.
So before I finish my white chicken chili and think about how much time I'll have at the gym before Moda shows up- An ode to my mom. Starring sweet honesty, and a hysterical historical story.
Dear mom-
When I was in the 6th grade learning percussion, we were required to practice our drumming/xylophoning for one hour a night. As there were very important things in the world (namely, cartoons and Voltron) I felt my time may have been better spent focusing on those pursuits rather than training to be the next Tommy Lee. (Good thinking, 12 year old me. According to my best friend the bassist, if you're in a band the only person to get more tail behind the lead singer and lead guitarist is the drummer. Bassists, he said, usually fall behind back-up singers and the tambourine player. And the lead singers girlfriend)
Anyway, I became quite adept at signing "PP" in your distinctive font. And I was still first chair by 9th grade. You're welcome, and I'm sorry. PS- It was around 8th grade when I was grouchy and hormonal when I realized I had made a HUGE error in judgement and should have joined choir, as all the girls I journaled about and had love pangs for were in show choir. I forgive you.
Mom doesn't touch the sauce, and she hasn't for at least my lifetime. That said, it didn't mean we didn't have liquor at our home. See, they were quite the entertainers back in the day. And one of the nifty things in the old BP home was the wet bar in the basement. (Where I'd play "Cocktail" using empty 2 liters of Mello Yello. I wouldn't play Tom Cruise, but Bryan Brown's self-destructive friend "Doug". A much deeper character IMHO) Anyway, the dusty and dehydrated bottles of gin weren't much interest to me when I was growing up...but when I turned 16 they were of GREAT interest to my friends.
After some hard peer pressure (read: Probably calling me "gay" or some such affrontery) I relented and let them root around behind the bar. They bitched about how all of the bottles were empty or "gross", but got all a flutter when they found a full one...wait for it- Creme de Menth. Unable to remove a cap that had long since fused with the bottle, they gave it to me to open, ripping open my callouses in the process. Cleverly adding this awful green liquer to their Sprite they tittered at their ingeniousness before they headed to First Ave to see Trip Shakespeare perform. (We were always finding clever ways to mask our adolescent tomfoolery. Hiding beer in the "Ale" jug from "Brigadoon" when we were at Ren Fest. In empty weed N feed spray bottles. Sometimes an old shoe. It varied)
Anyway, the next day they looked miserable. When I asked what was wrong with it, apparently they were unaware that it would turn their stool bright green and sort of freaked out about their radioactive poop. So...I'm sorry for contributing, but it made for hilarious 16 year old comedy.
There. I feel much better. And now, two stories to cleanse the palate and help you understand the depths of parental embarrassment/frustration. And it can run pretty deep. (Sorry mom. These are too good to pass up)
When I was in 11th grade, Mom helped out a lot backstage during shows. So much so, that everyone started calling her "mom". One day as she was pulling up after rehearsal one afternoon, my three closest friends and I were heading home and as I hopped in the Voyager they started chatting her up. It was at this point, and please don't ask me why, that she (ahem) decided to give them an impromptu speech on the birds and the bee's in addition to the importance of contraception, dovetailing nicely in to her opinion on male performance...all while I sat trying to simultaneously cover my eyes and plug my ears. (To be fair, I had already had "the talk" and been getting condoms for Christmas since I was 15. So for that, I'm grateful since it helped me avoid any early embarrassing trips to Walgreens where I was on a first name basis with the cashiers)
Anyway, my friends just looooved saying "So that's all sex is, huh? 'Poke Poke Poke' and then you're done, huh? She's right, man. There's absolutely no pleasure for a woman when that's all sex is..." Actually one of them still does. (Grumps silently at aforementioned bassist)
Part two to come later or tomorrow...
I meant to post a Mother's Day blog, and seeing how it's now two weeks late I feel like I finally have time to scribble about it. As I said to my mother at the Bonfire Grill back on the 9th, improv was fun but I'd like to try my hand at sketch comedy writing. Her classic mom-inator response: "Well...it's usually pretty funny and good. When you aren't writing about working out or food."
Bah-dum, ching.
So before I finish my white chicken chili and think about how much time I'll have at the gym before Moda shows up- An ode to my mom. Starring sweet honesty, and a hysterical historical story.
Dear mom-
When I was in the 6th grade learning percussion, we were required to practice our drumming/xylophoning for one hour a night. As there were very important things in the world (namely, cartoons and Voltron) I felt my time may have been better spent focusing on those pursuits rather than training to be the next Tommy Lee. (Good thinking, 12 year old me. According to my best friend the bassist, if you're in a band the only person to get more tail behind the lead singer and lead guitarist is the drummer. Bassists, he said, usually fall behind back-up singers and the tambourine player. And the lead singers girlfriend)
Anyway, I became quite adept at signing "PP" in your distinctive font. And I was still first chair by 9th grade. You're welcome, and I'm sorry. PS- It was around 8th grade when I was grouchy and hormonal when I realized I had made a HUGE error in judgement and should have joined choir, as all the girls I journaled about and had love pangs for were in show choir. I forgive you.
Mom doesn't touch the sauce, and she hasn't for at least my lifetime. That said, it didn't mean we didn't have liquor at our home. See, they were quite the entertainers back in the day. And one of the nifty things in the old BP home was the wet bar in the basement. (Where I'd play "Cocktail" using empty 2 liters of Mello Yello. I wouldn't play Tom Cruise, but Bryan Brown's self-destructive friend "Doug". A much deeper character IMHO) Anyway, the dusty and dehydrated bottles of gin weren't much interest to me when I was growing up...but when I turned 16 they were of GREAT interest to my friends.
After some hard peer pressure (read: Probably calling me "gay" or some such affrontery) I relented and let them root around behind the bar. They bitched about how all of the bottles were empty or "gross", but got all a flutter when they found a full one...wait for it- Creme de Menth. Unable to remove a cap that had long since fused with the bottle, they gave it to me to open, ripping open my callouses in the process. Cleverly adding this awful green liquer to their Sprite they tittered at their ingeniousness before they headed to First Ave to see Trip Shakespeare perform. (We were always finding clever ways to mask our adolescent tomfoolery. Hiding beer in the "Ale" jug from "Brigadoon" when we were at Ren Fest. In empty weed N feed spray bottles. Sometimes an old shoe. It varied)
Anyway, the next day they looked miserable. When I asked what was wrong with it, apparently they were unaware that it would turn their stool bright green and sort of freaked out about their radioactive poop. So...I'm sorry for contributing, but it made for hilarious 16 year old comedy.
There. I feel much better. And now, two stories to cleanse the palate and help you understand the depths of parental embarrassment/frustration. And it can run pretty deep. (Sorry mom. These are too good to pass up)
When I was in 11th grade, Mom helped out a lot backstage during shows. So much so, that everyone started calling her "mom". One day as she was pulling up after rehearsal one afternoon, my three closest friends and I were heading home and as I hopped in the Voyager they started chatting her up. It was at this point, and please don't ask me why, that she (ahem) decided to give them an impromptu speech on the birds and the bee's in addition to the importance of contraception, dovetailing nicely in to her opinion on male performance...all while I sat trying to simultaneously cover my eyes and plug my ears. (To be fair, I had already had "the talk" and been getting condoms for Christmas since I was 15. So for that, I'm grateful since it helped me avoid any early embarrassing trips to Walgreens where I was on a first name basis with the cashiers)
Anyway, my friends just looooved saying "So that's all sex is, huh? 'Poke Poke Poke' and then you're done, huh? She's right, man. There's absolutely no pleasure for a woman when that's all sex is..." Actually one of them still does. (Grumps silently at aforementioned bassist)
Part two to come later or tomorrow...
Monday, May 03, 2010
Lazy Monday
Nothing new here, kids. Carry on. I worked. Came home to hit the gym and do PWYC night but failed. They run two more weekends so I'll pay full price. I love them. I'll miss them (even though I never had the chance to work for them except one missed opportunity in 2003) and that is that.
Subway breakfast sammy review is on the Hippo site (http://hungryhippopotami.wordpress.com/2010/05/03/enter-the-subway-breakfast/) Check it out.
Back hurts. "House Bunny" must be finished. More laundry is to be folded. And another week of OT must be prepared for. Bills need paid. And my last class tomorrow. Huzzah.
05/03/2010 Bachelor Meals
Breakfast- Bacon/Egg/Cheese English muffin from the cafe. Shut up. I wanted comfort food and had originally anticipate running it off. Who could have told me the day would have kicked my ass and my body was sore. Odin, that's who.
2nd breakfast- Banana and fat free cherry Yoplait.
Lunch- Chicken/Spinach/Artichoke calzone. Again, it could have been soup or a spinach salad but they rolled out the special today and it would not be denied. Diet starts tomorrow, right? And it was better than the first attempt I had a few months ago that tasted of calzone death. At least they stopped calling it a "pizzarito".
Dinner- Grilled turkey burger. The spares go in lunch for tomorrow. I had these in the deep freeze and knew Moda would never want them so I thawed them overnight, seasoned them, and cooked the four patties on the grill. My most ambitious bachelor dinner to date. I may even try the sun-dried tomato risotto one of these nights.
<---Mildly healthy Henrietta.
Subway breakfast sammy review is on the Hippo site (http://hungryhippopotami.wordpress.com/2010/05/03/enter-the-subway-breakfast/) Check it out.
Back hurts. "House Bunny" must be finished. More laundry is to be folded. And another week of OT must be prepared for. Bills need paid. And my last class tomorrow. Huzzah.
05/03/2010 Bachelor Meals
Breakfast- Bacon/Egg/Cheese English muffin from the cafe. Shut up. I wanted comfort food and had originally anticipate running it off. Who could have told me the day would have kicked my ass and my body was sore. Odin, that's who.
2nd breakfast- Banana and fat free cherry Yoplait.
Lunch- Chicken/Spinach/Artichoke calzone. Again, it could have been soup or a spinach salad but they rolled out the special today and it would not be denied. Diet starts tomorrow, right? And it was better than the first attempt I had a few months ago that tasted of calzone death. At least they stopped calling it a "pizzarito".
Dinner- Grilled turkey burger. The spares go in lunch for tomorrow. I had these in the deep freeze and knew Moda would never want them so I thawed them overnight, seasoned them, and cooked the four patties on the grill. My most ambitious bachelor dinner to date. I may even try the sun-dried tomato risotto one of these nights.
<---Mildly healthy Henrietta.
Sunday, May 02, 2010
Waste of Sabbath Space
I made good on my promise to myself that I'd get up and start today with (kind of) a bang. I managed to get to Subway (first and foremost) for one of their breakfast sammies. (Review on the hippo site forthcoming.) Sufficed to say, I was a little under the whelmed. For future reference I'll be putting together my own, thanks.
Okay, so I did make it to BP for part of my list. I cruised up to Hwy 81 and traveled North to Brooklyn Blvd before heading back East. Lots, and I mean lots have changed. Village North is now becoming apartments and it looks like a new development is being created on the corner of Zane and BB. White Castle, Walgreens, and the DQ are still there. Most of the churches. And the Hardee's come Italian fast food in the mall-ish area by Rainbow is now an Arbys, go fig.
Godfathers, Rocky Rococco, and Blondies? All alive. Blondies patio was hoppin. Even at 10:30am. (How Godfathers has made it is beyond me. Really. Most metro stores have gone belly up by now) I popped in to Mound Cemetery to pay some respects. Lamby is still there, albeit it looks more like a gray Twinkie as opposed to the lamb I remembered as a kid. Funny. I never knew the name of the kid...funnier still, I can't find that random tombstone I ran into that was a 7th grade classmate of mine. I swear I've looked every time I've been there for the last 15 years since I've seen it. And it's not there. I'm beginning to think I imagined it.
Anyway, I took pics of my schools...the old home. I drove past the old...old home, but there were a few people in the driveway and it'd have felt creepy. As it was they were checking me out as I circled past.
All told, my trip took around 90 minutes plus a gas up at the Holiday. I was mildly insomniatic the night before so I plunked down for some nappage after getting home and investing in lunch. (A fat-free bean burrito. Shup) I woke up with every intention of grilling and hitting the gym, but the Bean was outside using my new toy (the Weed Hound. No more popping up dandelions on our hands and knees!) So I decided to do some manual labor in the form of fixing the outdoor brick work and laying some more weed barrier. I engaged in some weed whacking until a piece flung off and hit my eyeball. Fun. I'll let you know if I can open it tomorrow. Go-Go Gadget No-Insurance!
My spirit failed and dinner ended up being Chinese. I couldn't muster the strength for much else. Theatre night #2 fail. Hey...at least I made it to TRP last night.
Not too much exciting, pampers. Laundry is in. My bed is made, the mattress flipped and rotated, and the bolts tightened so hopefully there will be less squeaking. (Shut it)
(Sighs)...let's see what the regimented week brings...
Okay, so I did make it to BP for part of my list. I cruised up to Hwy 81 and traveled North to Brooklyn Blvd before heading back East. Lots, and I mean lots have changed. Village North is now becoming apartments and it looks like a new development is being created on the corner of Zane and BB. White Castle, Walgreens, and the DQ are still there. Most of the churches. And the Hardee's come Italian fast food in the mall-ish area by Rainbow is now an Arbys, go fig.
Godfathers, Rocky Rococco, and Blondies? All alive. Blondies patio was hoppin. Even at 10:30am. (How Godfathers has made it is beyond me. Really. Most metro stores have gone belly up by now) I popped in to Mound Cemetery to pay some respects. Lamby is still there, albeit it looks more like a gray Twinkie as opposed to the lamb I remembered as a kid. Funny. I never knew the name of the kid...funnier still, I can't find that random tombstone I ran into that was a 7th grade classmate of mine. I swear I've looked every time I've been there for the last 15 years since I've seen it. And it's not there. I'm beginning to think I imagined it.
Anyway, I took pics of my schools...the old home. I drove past the old...old home, but there were a few people in the driveway and it'd have felt creepy. As it was they were checking me out as I circled past.
All told, my trip took around 90 minutes plus a gas up at the Holiday. I was mildly insomniatic the night before so I plunked down for some nappage after getting home and investing in lunch. (A fat-free bean burrito. Shup) I woke up with every intention of grilling and hitting the gym, but the Bean was outside using my new toy (the Weed Hound. No more popping up dandelions on our hands and knees!) So I decided to do some manual labor in the form of fixing the outdoor brick work and laying some more weed barrier. I engaged in some weed whacking until a piece flung off and hit my eyeball. Fun. I'll let you know if I can open it tomorrow. Go-Go Gadget No-Insurance!
My spirit failed and dinner ended up being Chinese. I couldn't muster the strength for much else. Theatre night #2 fail. Hey...at least I made it to TRP last night.
Not too much exciting, pampers. Laundry is in. My bed is made, the mattress flipped and rotated, and the bolts tightened so hopefully there will be less squeaking. (Shut it)
(Sighs)...let's see what the regimented week brings...
Saturday, May 01, 2010
Bacherlordom, Day 1. Here's the plan.
Okay so I'm left to my own devices. Yeah. What? Moda is on her big annual road trip w/DBs and they're heading out to the Maine-vein! (Staying w/CRT at the summer camp that they run. Climbing towers. Mountain Bikes. Hiking trails. I'm hoping this isn't like the summer camp memories I have from movies like "Meatballs" or "Wet Hot American Summer" but since it's way into pre-season I'm more worried about frostbite or rain-soaked campfires as opposed to the rival campers from across the lake vying for their affections)
That being said...wow. I finally get her back for a protracted period of time after her theatre marathon and I'm here at home. Soooo I figured I'd regale you with tales on how a monoganimal boy takes care of himself. (Sorry that I can regale you with Don Draper-ian exploits for those who like living vicariously. I just don't/can't play that game. What I do promise is that-hopefully- it won't be lame posts like..."Stayed in and watched 'Rapid Fire' again. It was okay. Tomorrow I'll be making gin and tonics...with ORANGE JUICE and watching 'Strange Brew'. I mean...I don't get the traffic on this site I used to so I hope I don't scare any more faithful readers off. Apparently all 3 of you.)
So I'll give you all the heads up and try to keep these short-ish. You've been warned. I don't eat well when another person doesn't cook for me.
We had our low-key send off last night with Moda making some delicious pad-Thai and then watched "Mad Men" (yay) and "Time Traveler's Weef" (Skip. Or apparently I have no soul) and I slept my first bachelor night in a year.
I'm doing OT at the office, and after we had a delicious catered "employee appreciation" from Holy Land Deli (I ended up explaining to people who were concerned about the falafel balls that it was really kind of like "Middle Eastern Hush Puppies") I was excited at the prospect of the amount of leftovers we had. To the tune of 8-9 pans of spiced grilled chicken, lamb, rice, and hummus. (Did I bring tupperware to work today? You know damn right I did.)
Anticipating a Middle-Eastern breakfast, I came in early armed with the knowledge that at least my gastro-intestinal needs would be met. Not so much. Housecleaning emptied the employee fridge. 8-10 pans of perfectly good food? Tossed. Baby P? Heartbrok...Pissed the righteous f#ck off.
So I worked and hit the 'Bow for some goodies. Breakfast ended up being-
1) A Clif Peanut Butter Chocolate Bar and
2) An on-sale bag of fake Lobster Meat
Clearly, bachelordom spreads fast than Ebola.
I hit the gym for some rehab (Finally. A proper leg/shoulder/arm and back rehab workout on the extension machine and foam roller. After a lengthy sauna and a hot hot hot shower I could touch my toes! I felt like an ambulatory human again, even for a little while.)
I managed a HD trip for some more cedar mulch (HEY! 5 bags for $10!!! Only until tomorrow!) and some potting soil and managed to get home to plant my potted pansies. (And why with the "Pansy"? They're hearty. Thrive in sun and shade. Why not "Kick-Ass McGoo's!"?) Well. My deck looks a little nicer.
Dinner is an egg white omelet with asparagus, soy cheese, marinated tofu, and spinach*. Basically what I have in the fridge with the hope that I can get through my Egg Beaters before they expire. I'd do it for breakfast tomorrow, but that defeats my weekly bachelor goals. WHICH ARE!
1- See some theatre. Moda and I were frassin' that there were a bunch of shows we wanted to see so I figured I'd try to make sure my actor-card was punched and do my part to support local theatre. I know tonight I'm gonna try and see "Relatively Speaking" at TRP. My buddies A and D are in it and Moda already caught a preview so I hope that I can make it. Otherwise I know I'm gonna see "Our Country's...okay" (Starting Gate's last show. Sniff) on Monday for PWYC and tomorrow? Well, we'll see. It'll be either "Queens of Burley-Q" at the History or I wait for the evening to see if the BNI has any shows a-playin. The rest of the week? Who knows.
2-I'm going to get a breakfast sandwich tomorrow morning at Subway if it kills me. I have no time or patience to try and do it during the week (I make my own work breakfast, folks) and even though I could cobble the accotrements together to make the same thing at home, I'd like to see what the fuss is over their "egg-white on an english muffin prepared by a sandwich artist" Breakfast sammy is like. Don't judge me, monkeys.
3- I've taken the week off post-race and I'm going to start race training again tomorrow. maybe 4.5 or 5 miles. Who knows. I may try and actively scamper out to BC to hit USA for some karate style action. I'm rusty. My back has been so f#cked up that even trying a front kick makes my knee buckle. Who knows. Could be fun. Could be damaging.
4-Drive out to BP. Dad was apprehensive when I mentioned my desire to flit through my hometown, but the closing of Brookdale has got me kind of nostaligic. Not a very progressive feeling, sure, but that's part of my make-up. Drop a carnation off at Eric's grave and say "hi" to the lamb. Traipse up Brooklyn Blvd. Stop at "Rocky's" or "Blondie's" for a slice or a salad. I dunno. Maybe I'll call the Gay Burrito and see if he's game. Leave an old man to his memories, for pities sake.
5- Finish class. My BNI classes (officially) end on Tuesday with our "performance" slated for Saturday. Anyone want to watch free student Improv, traipse down to the BNW. I won't give out the time unless you're serious. One of my classmates is s#itting kittens. Be nice.
6- See a flick on my own. "Nightmare" just opened and I have a jones to see either "Kick-Ass" or "The Losers". Which will I pick? I don't know.
There it is. Sorry I won't have exciting stories to post regaling you about my afternoon at BJ's for "Nickel Lap Dances from 3-6pm but I hope that my telling you what I eat/imbibe (Ooo...does this Chianti pair nicely with my microwaved Boca Burger? Should I do the fat-free Bean Burrito with Guiness or an ale?) will bring you amusement while I'm imposing a sort of house arrest.
For your amusement.
*Feel free to add sliced garlic and diced green onion/tomato if you're ambitious.
Heat small skillet to medium and spray with Pam. Add tofu, then cut up asparagus...wait a minute...garlic (DON'T LET IT BURN!) then spinach (and tomato) last. Simultaneously, spray a larger pan and let it heat up while this nonsense is happening. Once you've gotten around to seeing if the spinach is wilting a little, the large pan (on medium-medium high) should be hot enough. Add the egg-white Egg Beater (Or regular) to the pan until it starts to set. (Move the pan around the burner if it doesn't heat evenly) Once set, add the cheese, then add the veggie mix to one end of the omelet. Check the corners with your turner then flip and press the top. Turn the entire thing (try not to brown it) and transfer to plate. Add pepper, salt, or hot sauce to taste.
That being said...wow. I finally get her back for a protracted period of time after her theatre marathon and I'm here at home. Soooo I figured I'd regale you with tales on how a monoganimal boy takes care of himself. (Sorry that I can regale you with Don Draper-ian exploits for those who like living vicariously. I just don't/can't play that game. What I do promise is that-hopefully- it won't be lame posts like..."Stayed in and watched 'Rapid Fire' again. It was okay. Tomorrow I'll be making gin and tonics...with ORANGE JUICE and watching 'Strange Brew'. I mean...I don't get the traffic on this site I used to so I hope I don't scare any more faithful readers off. Apparently all 3 of you.)
So I'll give you all the heads up and try to keep these short-ish. You've been warned. I don't eat well when another person doesn't cook for me.
We had our low-key send off last night with Moda making some delicious pad-Thai and then watched "Mad Men" (yay) and "Time Traveler's Weef" (Skip. Or apparently I have no soul) and I slept my first bachelor night in a year.
I'm doing OT at the office, and after we had a delicious catered "employee appreciation" from Holy Land Deli (I ended up explaining to people who were concerned about the falafel balls that it was really kind of like "Middle Eastern Hush Puppies") I was excited at the prospect of the amount of leftovers we had. To the tune of 8-9 pans of spiced grilled chicken, lamb, rice, and hummus. (Did I bring tupperware to work today? You know damn right I did.)
Anticipating a Middle-Eastern breakfast, I came in early armed with the knowledge that at least my gastro-intestinal needs would be met. Not so much. Housecleaning emptied the employee fridge. 8-10 pans of perfectly good food? Tossed. Baby P? Heartbrok...Pissed the righteous f#ck off.
So I worked and hit the 'Bow for some goodies. Breakfast ended up being-
1) A Clif Peanut Butter Chocolate Bar and
2) An on-sale bag of fake Lobster Meat
Clearly, bachelordom spreads fast than Ebola.
I hit the gym for some rehab (Finally. A proper leg/shoulder/arm and back rehab workout on the extension machine and foam roller. After a lengthy sauna and a hot hot hot shower I could touch my toes! I felt like an ambulatory human again, even for a little while.)
I managed a HD trip for some more cedar mulch (HEY! 5 bags for $10!!! Only until tomorrow!) and some potting soil and managed to get home to plant my potted pansies. (And why with the "Pansy"? They're hearty. Thrive in sun and shade. Why not "Kick-Ass McGoo's!"?) Well. My deck looks a little nicer.
Dinner is an egg white omelet with asparagus, soy cheese, marinated tofu, and spinach*. Basically what I have in the fridge with the hope that I can get through my Egg Beaters before they expire. I'd do it for breakfast tomorrow, but that defeats my weekly bachelor goals. WHICH ARE!
1- See some theatre. Moda and I were frassin' that there were a bunch of shows we wanted to see so I figured I'd try to make sure my actor-card was punched and do my part to support local theatre. I know tonight I'm gonna try and see "Relatively Speaking" at TRP. My buddies A and D are in it and Moda already caught a preview so I hope that I can make it. Otherwise I know I'm gonna see "Our Country's...okay" (Starting Gate's last show. Sniff) on Monday for PWYC and tomorrow? Well, we'll see. It'll be either "Queens of Burley-Q" at the History or I wait for the evening to see if the BNI has any shows a-playin. The rest of the week? Who knows.
2-I'm going to get a breakfast sandwich tomorrow morning at Subway if it kills me. I have no time or patience to try and do it during the week (I make my own work breakfast, folks) and even though I could cobble the accotrements together to make the same thing at home, I'd like to see what the fuss is over their "egg-white on an english muffin prepared by a sandwich artist" Breakfast sammy is like. Don't judge me, monkeys.
3- I've taken the week off post-race and I'm going to start race training again tomorrow. maybe 4.5 or 5 miles. Who knows. I may try and actively scamper out to BC to hit USA for some karate style action. I'm rusty. My back has been so f#cked up that even trying a front kick makes my knee buckle. Who knows. Could be fun. Could be damaging.
4-Drive out to BP. Dad was apprehensive when I mentioned my desire to flit through my hometown, but the closing of Brookdale has got me kind of nostaligic. Not a very progressive feeling, sure, but that's part of my make-up. Drop a carnation off at Eric's grave and say "hi" to the lamb. Traipse up Brooklyn Blvd. Stop at "Rocky's" or "Blondie's" for a slice or a salad. I dunno. Maybe I'll call the Gay Burrito and see if he's game. Leave an old man to his memories, for pities sake.
5- Finish class. My BNI classes (officially) end on Tuesday with our "performance" slated for Saturday. Anyone want to watch free student Improv, traipse down to the BNW. I won't give out the time unless you're serious. One of my classmates is s#itting kittens. Be nice.
6- See a flick on my own. "Nightmare" just opened and I have a jones to see either "Kick-Ass" or "The Losers". Which will I pick? I don't know.
There it is. Sorry I won't have exciting stories to post regaling you about my afternoon at BJ's for "Nickel Lap Dances from 3-6pm but I hope that my telling you what I eat/imbibe (Ooo...does this Chianti pair nicely with my microwaved Boca Burger? Should I do the fat-free Bean Burrito with Guiness or an ale?) will bring you amusement while I'm imposing a sort of house arrest.
For your amusement.
*Feel free to add sliced garlic and diced green onion/tomato if you're ambitious.
Heat small skillet to medium and spray with Pam. Add tofu, then cut up asparagus...wait a minute...garlic (DON'T LET IT BURN!) then spinach (and tomato) last. Simultaneously, spray a larger pan and let it heat up while this nonsense is happening. Once you've gotten around to seeing if the spinach is wilting a little, the large pan (on medium-medium high) should be hot enough. Add the egg-white Egg Beater (Or regular) to the pan until it starts to set. (Move the pan around the burner if it doesn't heat evenly) Once set, add the cheese, then add the veggie mix to one end of the omelet. Check the corners with your turner then flip and press the top. Turn the entire thing (try not to brown it) and transfer to plate. Add pepper, salt, or hot sauce to taste.
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