No worries...curry?

Do you know what I love? Chinese take-out. Lots.

While mired in work, race-training, karate, and rehearsals- dinner is usually me scarfing "fake meat" in the form of veggie buffalo nugs or Morningstar (veggie) turkey burgers? When I'm feeling rushed or have the jones, I'm a cheap take-out whore. It's gotten to the point where, I believe I've mentioned, the guys at Great Dragon know me. (They never ask for my name/number, because clearly I'm the only asshole who orders the mock-duck or spicy garlic broccoli. Oh, and once they had to apologize up and down when they were out of Mock Duck. "You're a Chinese restaurant, man. Who ELSE here eats mock duck- and if it's only been me? How much have I eaten?!?! Don't answer that.")

What I hate (#1) is that I'm so addicted to the take-out. I should (reasonably) be able to make something like that at home for Pete's sake...and I used to cook all the time. And #2- while the food is good and marginally healthy? They put s#it in it that I cannot stand. Namely? Baby corn and mushrooms. (Shudders) If they could only just make it with the "good" stuff (namely- everything except the aforementioned demon bits) then I'd probably marry it. So for the last couple of weeks/months I've been thinking about just making my own at home, except with the things in it I like. (And before you frass- no, I can't have them substitute it or have them make it without the demon bits. I'm not that fussy and can pick around it. SHIVERS!!!)

It's been an age since I've actually cooked/crafted something from scratch, and lest I get rusty and forget the difference between a zester and lemon-press- I knew it was important to put on my big-kid apron and get cooking stat.

Something... other than pasta or chili that sits in the tupperware while I demolish it over the work week, or making something on the grill (Which is fairly elementary. Turn on fire. Drop food on fire. Try not to burn). I wanted to create. I wanted to engage in some mad-scientist cooking shenanigans based solely on what ingredients I had around. Fortunately for me, that meant I had a wealth of veggies leftover from the weekend that fit my ideal of what would make for a "good stir-fry". Moreover? I had the spices/sauces to put together what (in my mind) was going to be a kick-ass curry dish.

As some of my more long-term readers will attest, my "experiments" usually (always) fall weeeell short of how I envision they'll turn out in my brain-movie. Hello. I have become my father.

That's not to say it was an epic failure, but I started making some errors the moment I exited the co-op. I'm blaming the fact that I was just done with my workout, was peckish and therefore running on empty- and even though the co-op is small- it was distracting last night.

THE ORIGINAL IDEA:
Curried vegetables with tofu over jasmine rice.
WHAT I HAD:
Red potatoes, garlic, red bell peppers, spinach, zucchini, tomato, coconut milk, curry paste (and a slew of various curries and spices)
WHAT I NEEDED:
Extra-firm tofu, broccoli, and ginger

HOW I MANAGED TO COCK IT UP:
Apparently I suffered a minor stroke in the produce aisle. I grabbed the ginger, which was really the only thing I remembered. Then I grabbed another Zuke (what?) and some green onion/scallions (my zig-zaggy brain was thinking about making quinoa w/garlic and black beans this weekend). Then I passed over the tofu completely in order to sample some cheese. That was some great cheese! So I doubled back to the produce aisle...feeling like I was forgetting something, but then tossing the sharp goats-milk cheddar in my basket.

Circling the store, I was further buffaloed by their deli selection...Sallying forth only when I mentally made the committment to "making" my dinner versus something pre-packaged...and I still managed to toss the chickpeas w/garlic and spinach in my basket. Leave me alone...I WAS STARVING!!!

Getting home, setting everything out, stepping back, putting my hands on my hips...I started cussing up a blue streak when I realized what I'd forgotten. I stopped long enough only to fuel the fire by imagining the looks from the hippy cashiers as they mutter under their breath "Forgot something the 1st time...eh?" with a little chuckle. Which, in turn, would launch me across the register in an apocolyptic rage and throttle them by their hemp necklace and knit yarn-beanie until the beat me down with sacks of wheat germ.

I was not starting in a happy place. (And the f#ck all thing was that this was the kind of s#it I'd do when Moda and I cooked together. FYI? There IS in fact a huge difference between Kosher Salt and Sea Salt. Not that I'd know. It's on the internet somewhere. So it must be true. Grumble-frass)

Eventually, I talked myself out of going back to the co-op. I knew I didn't really need the tofu per se, and had enough veggies that procuring broccoli was a little moot. So, I started by getting to the chopper and prepping the garlic and ginger. (And here, I will provide photos and instructional commentary. Enjoy)



Sous-Cheffin'. Peel and grate the ginger and peel/finely chop 4 cloves of garlic. Place in an oversized wok (the two-hander procured from Ikea. It...uh...had some dust in it, if that gives you an indication of the last time I used it.) Adding a couple Tbsps of olive oil, sautee the garlic and ginger on low heat while choppa-choppa'ing the rest of your veggies. (De-seed the tomato as well)


I added the potatoes to saute'/soften 1st. It was a cheat, but I had nearly an entire bag of pre-cooked/sliced red tomatoes. I ain't too proud. At this point, I started cheese nibblin'. Sue me. I was multi-tasking (i.e. checking the internet, throwing my dirty gym clothes in the laundry, dog-proofing my bed and couches) before I realized that I should, in fact, babysit the burner...as the ginger/garlic was starting to burn a little. It was also here that I figured that I would be the only one eating it...so f#ck it.


I also tossed in sprinkles of tumeric, vindaloo seasoning, salt, pepper, and hot curry powder to taste.

Step 2, I tossed in the remaining veggies (along with some snap peas for snap) and let them go for a few minutes before emptying the lite coconut milk over the mess and pushing it around for consistency. (Stirring It's called stirring I guess?)

Step 3- toss in the stuff that's most likely to get "wilty" last. There's really no science here. At this point I wondered why I wasn't drinking wine. Then I saw I had that chickpea deli salad? And tossed it riiiight the f#ck in there. Also, I noticed after dropping a dollop of green curry paste in the mix that I had splashed the sauce all down the front of my pants/t-shirt. I considered stripping down and wearing naught but an apron and then taking cheesecake photos. I then remembered that I'd personally make fun of ANYone doing that very same thing if they were sober. AND realized I was sober. AND?!?! Who the hell would I send it to? My family? Weeeeird.

AND AND?!?!? Knowing my luck so far? AL would show up with the dog about the same time I was standing in front of the mirror taking pictures bare-assed and be-apron'ed. No good. Try and make good decisions, friends. At the very least, one's that you won't be embarrassed about later.

Having forgot the jasmine rice, I did manage to rustle up some microwaveable brown rice which I dumped the whole mix on top of. AL did manage to show up 30 minutes early (thankfully after I'd cleaned up) and made the initial comment of "Is there any MEAT in it?" When I responded in the negative, he performed an about face and ran down to Holy Land for some protein. Okay.

He did eventually try some and proclaimed it as "killin'" which surprised the nuts off of me since I figured he'd immediately hate the hell out of it. And even after trying it myself, I was happy enough that it was palatable, and made enough to power me through the week.

Bottom line? Next time? I'm writing my ingredients list in advance. This improv was definitely not funny, but at least it was not painful either.

Lucky me...
:(

The results are in!

I'm about to tell you a tale of the results of that 2012 Fitness Challenge I frassed about at the start of the year, here. For my friends who were really hoping the blog would be more "cat-centric", I'm sorry to report the kitties had to go back to their "real" dad. Also, for the visually stimulated among the lot of you- I apologize for no before or after pictures. My genial narcissism is tempered by my own self-consciousness/loathing...and dislike of topless photo's/photo's in general of myself. While I promise to keep this more factual than nauseatingly self-deprecating...I just think it'll be funnier if I tell it to you in...my own voice...Mostly, if you're interested in how the regime actually worked out for me.

Pictured: How I look at the end of a treadmill workout as I hang from the handrails- grimacing like I'm constipated and complete with a tubful of sweat, claws, and easily groomable body-hair.

Yesterday I was standing on the landing by the front door and rocking my winter running "costume" when I had an epiphany: While it is February...and stupidly balmy for MN...and there was really no reason I shouldn't go for a run...I actually said:

Fuuuuuck this.

And then I stripped out of my layers and crawled into bed for a power-nap. Do you know why? Because I was tired, and refused to feel guilty. And January is over, sucka's.

Not to put a fine a point on it- Le results, for the numerically saavy: (January 2012)

Total Workouts (Running/Weights/Karate): 37
Total Hours: 25
Total Miles: 80
Total Calories burned (est): 15,000

Height: 5' 10"
Weight: (pre) 183 (post) 180
(Note: Several of the workouts were doubled up and factually I worked out about 70% of January. Also, I don't log my "wake-up" routine of stretching/core work/upper body awakening. Or as Mr. McConnaughey sez: "Push-ups n' Sit-up's...all right all right all right")

So what did I learn? What was I hoping to gain from this? Going in, I was excited at the prospect of adhering to a new routine and sticking to it. To "not" give lipservice to training and really work my nards off- celebrity/professional athlete style! I knew that I'd either have to spend a considerable amount of time doing it. (Indicating that I either was very dedicated, or had no life to speak of. And let me tell you, friends- It's hard not to think you're the latter versus the former) I partly believed that my body would have a quick-ish response to the training and the results would be -hopefully- immediate. True, I wasn't eliminating everything from my diet like some pre-contest bodybuilder or Spartan king.

Put the Merlot and Muenster Cheese down, motherf#cker...

I figured I had my calories measured so that I was maximizing my input/output necessary to facillitate my workouts and burn any other superfluous nonsense. My OTHER hope was to navigate down toward the 170's pound-age wise...but outside of a handful of times during a morning weigh-in I never dropped down there. Sure, I went down notch on my belt. And of COURSE the stupid fast twitch muscle fibers in my arms liked having a day all to themselves. And while it wasn't shapely and sculpted, whatever subsequent weight loss happened as a result of spending more time isolating my chest allowed me to make out the (hopefully benign) sebaceous cyst that's lived in the area around my sternum my whole life.

Cyst? What cyst? I can't find anything between these throw-pillows I call my chest.

Lastly? Man oh Man oh Man oh Man. I got soooooo fah-king tired. (occasionally) Trying to run at 5 then going to work at 6-7am then hitting the gym afterwards- OR going from the gym to karate to home again? (Karate "suffered" the most. I only wedged in 2 visits in January.) My ass felt like lead. And the soreness? In my muscles? Never really went away. There was always something new ripping and tearing and re-growing. My neck and back felt sledgehammered. (Which, if the article is to be believed, means I'm storing a shit ton of eeeevil on a cellular level...)

I started to get tired of the gross and sweaty laundry I was doing sometimes twice a week. The feeling like I had to bundle up for an outdoor run and the subsequent peeling off of clothes just because it was nice out. (Or because the cute couple I pass every morning that runs together made me feel guilty) The (sometimes) two showers a day. I ended up developing an unhealthy addiction to caffeine (natch) in order to push through the day which played hell with my tummy. And if I was going to a gig at the end of the day? I couldn't even nap because I was always exhausted AND wound up!

And in the end? I didn't even manage to do the 6 days on 1 off! Sometimes I'd give it a day, two days in between here and there. I literally could not even drag my butt out the front door or from work to the gym-And I brought my gym bag every single day. (To be fair, I convinced myself that they were getting grossly tired of seeing my face daily at the club) Finally, I reiterated this to myself. I thought: "This is why models and superstars are paid the big bucks. This is why bodybuilders & fitness enthusiasts get sponsers". And I didn't want to even be built like either.

I just wanted to try on something new for a bit and stick with it.

Without seeming like I'm grumbling too much: The original idea was, truly, to determine if that type of exercise was a good option for my overall wellness/strength. I think it was a good experiment, and like all workout kerfluffles in my life I'm keeping what was useful and discarding what isn't. The leg work alone made karate easier to recover from (and the karate has been helping my reflexes- I mean, in a useful way...I can't tell you how cool it is to be able to keep the bottle of Summit that you just accidentally tipped over from falling off the counter without spilling a drop.) Spending time focusing on one body-part does along (some) room for recovery and isn't forcing your body to over-tax. (And appear like an equipment hog)

And I still really like going to the gym. This much I'm fairly certain of. And making that and karate into second homes keeps me honest and out of trouble. Add to that, over the last 30 days or so I've spoken with people who are not only returning to the gym, but some just starting to discover their own path to health, weight-loss, wellness, etc. And as a motivator, that gets me jazzed to keep going as well. I might have been fibbing a bit when I said I'm dedicating the month of February to the couch (Although "Deadwood" is taking over my life). Sue me.

And I'll see y'all at the gym.

Another quick sabbatical

Hello, readers. Just wanted to give you a quick heads up that I'll be engaging in another brief blogging sabbatical. I shall return. And happy trails.

Closing up Horror-thon 2011

To recap: I've been trying to get through my Netflixed list of Horror themed movies in October. I've got a small amount of recapping to do, as I've been posting mini-reviews on another site...and to be fair the movie "Zombi" could warrant a 42 page thesis in and of itself. That said, this will be partly compartmentalized since I've made some headway since my last review...AND the Monster Dash is coming up...much more entertaining things to frass about.

So.

I made it through a film series in its entirety. I made it through some 70's genre. A remake. An indie surprise. And...my most regrettable decisions...the "controversial/banned" horror genre. I'll be focusing on the franchise piece today and offering up morsels about the remaining films by way of thumbs upping/downing their respective worths IMNSHO. Let's just say, to rip off about 87 different horror film taglines...sometimes the past should stay dead and buried. Esp. one particularly stupid street in Ohio and the homeless kobold in a Christmas sweater with a bag ladies fingernails...

Pictured: Video World in Brooklyn Park had a small garbage can full of "used" movie posters that I'd appropriate from time to time- mostly...always... from the "horror" section. The above repro was from around 1987...or when Freddy started to be "funny". More on that in a tic.

The Franchise: A Nightmare on Elm Street
# of movies: 6 in the franchise "proper". 1 meta in-joke. 1 crossover. 1 remake. (I stuck with the franchise "proper", more or less. Watched in order. Here we go.)

Part #'s:
1- The first. Arguably the best. Scary. Defining. Dark ending.
2- I skipped it. What? It had almost nothing to do with the rest except Freddy and the house. And jokey homo-erotic undertones all over.
3- Fun. Okay special effects and creative deaths. Freddy gets "funny". Wouldn't have hurt to stop the series here. By far, the 2nd best of the lot.
4- Getting dumber.
5- Good effects. Still dumb. The high school kids are really looking old. They're really over-explaining his backstory now. A major horror film no-no.
6- It was in 3D. And does NOT translate well. Not only should the series have been buried, but it should have had concrete poured over it. Then a fake grave marker in a completely different cemetery to appeal to tourists. So. Freaking. Dumb. It hurt.

-A New Nightmare. 1994. In jokes and audience "winks"/Easter Eggs were really far and few between. This movie was almost ALL meta. Before meta was meta. Still, probably my 3rd favorite in the series...if anything for the 25 lb cell phones.

The whole series? 2.5/5

The rest:

Trollhunter- Awesome. And funny. And really, really well done for a "low budget" film.
Stakeland- Not as awesome. Not as fun. And I got kind of bored. It was like "The Road" meets "30 Days of Night".
Martin- Non-Zombie Romero Vampire Film. Better than I thought. Weird at first, but if you go with it it won't let you down. The "is he" or "isn't he"? Is part of the charm.
Dawn of the Dead (2004)- Very good. Intense. Frightening. Takes a little from every piece of "Z" genre films including the original source material to make a quality "scary" movie.
The Cell- Okay, so it's a little unfair since I'd seen it already. That said, you can't go wrong with what you know and what you know is thrilling. And it's a beautifully rendered movie to boot. ("Nightmare" series, take note- THIS is how you create a dream landscape. Not by retreading a boiler room or smelly asylum.)

The very...very bad. Like, 0/5 stars would be polite. We're talking the "banned/controversial" horror films...


Salo'- So f#cking gross. I can divorce myself from what I know is "fake" or an "effect". And this movie about fascist Italy toward the end of WW II dealing with some very perverse and twisted people...defenders of this film? Have fun. It was absolutely putrid and disgusting.

Cannibal Holocaust- Fine. One of the 1st "found film" scary movies...it's just kind of gross and little disturbing. And not necessarily the simulated pygmy rape...they butcher live animals on film. Dumb N' Gross...

Zombi- Will get a blog unto itself. A zombie dry-humps a shark underwater. 'Nuff said.


That's where I am. I have "Macbeth" (1971), "Braindead", and "The Last Circus" on the queue- not to mention there are about 6 on the Instant backburner. Besides that, I was preparing to ready myself for a few of the specific "Friday the 13th" movies (namely, 1-6...skipping part V since it wasn't SPOILER Jason) It'll be mid-November by this point, and with needing to decorate for Halloween, run a half-Mary in costume, rehearse, do 4-5 Ghost Tours, and get my overall house ready for winter...I might just get a little tired of "Horror" and go back to streaming the latest "Dr. Who" series or "Friday Night Lights"....(Sighs)

Pictured: The other poster I bought with the one above. I believe it was one of them that my grandma...when she came up to stay with us in 1988/1989 or so and was going to sleep in my bedroom...made me take them down before she could sleep...MuhwahHAHAHAHAHA!!!

VEGAS BABY!!! Zzzzzzzz (pt 1)

(Author's note: The good managers at my office determined that my co-worker and I should visit our Las Vegas headquarters for a company kick-off/HOO-rah party. Since being hired, it'd been intimated that there may be some offsite travel- however as we fleshed out the capacities of our position we both realized that any reason for us to visit Vegas didn't seem to make a lot of sense. (We kinda stay in our own world here.) Then, a month ago, our friendly COO came over to describe an upcoming deal that we should "definitely be in Vegas to check out". Swell. After a few conference calls with our manager, her visiting our MN office for a week, we were sent an itinerary and flight confirmation. Vegas, it would seem, would once again be patronized by yours truly...my first trip back since late 2007 or so...

Thing is, would it be fun for a business trip?)

Soooo...I usually overpack, is my first problem. Scratch that. My first problem is that I usually have a problem asking for a ride to the LRT until the last minute. (Knowing my roommate seems to genuinely like to help out in that respect.) No, in having conversations with my co-worker- I realized that since this is an actual business trip that would last (technically) 2 days- I had no business bringing a duffel bag or the oversized "dead-hooker deluxe" model. I challenged myself to see about cramming my crap into a small suitcase, and playing business-traveler like a grown up. Which turned out to be fortuitous, since I'd returned all oversized luggage to their rightful owners (family) and the only thing I had left was an overhead bag.

My co-worker asked me if I wanted to watch any movies on the flight, which I mistook for in-flight movies and made to condescendingly correct her that we didn't have that- to which she condescendingly responded we'd watch it on her Ipad. I told her I was fine with a book- which only harbored a stare...which was lifted upon my response "Um. A movie'd be great. What did you have in mind?" We settled on "Transformers 3", and said our weekend good-byes.

Insomnia kept me awake most of the night after 3am, along with nightmares about crashing into the ocean...many of these were assuaged only by the fact that we wouldn't actually be flying over the ocean. (I blame the Chinese take-out before bed and the movie "Con-Air"...which was on TBS that afternoon) When I finally got up to do my pre-luggage check (the 4th of such "checks") I realized that I actually had less time to get ready and go then I had originally thought- knowing the LRT would take at least 35 minutes to get from downtown to MSP int'l. My roommate, the acme of calm (that morning, anyway) told me he'd rather take me to the gate anyway. Score. So we beat ass to get there and I still wound up with less than two hours to kill.

My panic resurfaced when I realized that in spite of having the under-sized package (snerk), it still didn't seem to fit in those measure-box deals that tell you if it's cool for the overhead compartments. I sat on it. Looked around plaintively until a friendly airport employee told me if I could move some stuff from the front pockets into the main compartment, I'd be sound as a pound. Except, as I knelt in front of her while she rustled up my boarding pass, those compartments contained all of my underwear. So, there I was...bleary eyed, and surrounded by Hanes like some crop-circle consisting of my balled-up unmentionables.

I was busy re-arranging everything when she caught sight of a bottle of hairspray next to my leg, also to go in the box. "You can't bring that, hon." (Mind, my hair is still wet...pretty long for my standards, and pasted to my head with the grace of God. I had planned on my last-minute gussying in the terminal bathroom) "Oh. Why is that?" "It's a big bottle. It exceeds the limit on liquids you can carry on". Great. Not even through the x-ray and I'm already a flight risk named "Pantene Pro-Hold". So...I chuck it. She smiled and told me that Vegas has drug stores I could patronize. ("Really? Just like MN? That is sooooo weird!")

So I do the obligatory shoe-shucking and toss my stuff in my pockets in the X-ray bins. They ask me 4 times (Yes) if there is ANYthing in my pockets to which I respond in the negative. And then...I enter the thing. I hope the beaming process is painless and where ever I land is a class "M" Planet. No dice. I stand there with my feet apart and my hands over my head like I'm about to perform the kata Kil-Sim (eh? Eh? Karate reference? Anyone?) and it's done. I exit the booth. Annnnnd...

Minor pandemonium. I'm told to turn around and face the read-out machine which shows a vague, blobby outline which (I guess) is me (Did I gain weight? Jesus) and has a glowing red-spot on my leg that looks like the kind of graphic you'd see on an anti-itch commercial. I'm asked another 3 times (yes) if I had anything in my pockets because the MACHINE showed I DEFINITELY HAD SOMETHING IN MY POCKET!!! And that's when the guy walked over to me with the nitrile gloves and a smirk. Folks. I got the frisk. And it wasn't even as exciting as I thought. And the fucker didn't even acknowledge that there was still. Nothing. In. My. Pocket.

Right. (Note- There have been peoples, stories, of those wrongly imprisoned, taken off of their flight, held under interrogation for hours without explanation- all because they tripped the profile. And I think it's horrible and wrong and makes my experience look like a handshake at vespers. I just want you to know, that if they fuck it up with a cherry like me? Well...you've been warned.)

So I'm digging through the suitcase to retrieve keys, wallet, gum, et.al. when I see a green envelope that says "Mikey. Merry X-Mas. Love, Mom and Dad." (Swallows hard. Folds it. And keeps it in his pocket...and it still feels thick. Oh...btw...think about that one if you're wondering how long it's been since I last used that suitcase.)

I manage to grab a Starbucks, grab a Men's Health magazine, and chill for the next 90 minutes until my co-worker shows up...only to discover that we weren't even sitting next to each other. No movies for buddies. More over, I'm in the center seat...on an over booked flight. And stuck for 3.5 hours with nothing but my magazine, the Sky Mall Catalogue, and "The Help"...So far, this trip wasn't too peachy.

Two Fairs, back to back= Insanity

What...what the natural heck was I thinking? I'm really not into masochistic acts perpetrated on my self, so in what parallel world did the "Evil" Mikey think hitting two crowded ass MN past times over Labor Day weekend was a good idea? I just hope that twin has a Van Dyke mustache, leers a lot, and is thinner. Probably huffs spray paint.

Annnnyway. This is what happens when you wait until the closing end of the State Fair, I guess. Well, that and the fact that my #1 companion Momo doesn't like to Gogo to the Fair and has been eyes deep in Tech/Rehearsal. #2 companion (Mom) wasn't too interested. And a few of my other buddies w/o day jobs had already gone during the weekdays leaving me, and my ridiculous need to get my annual mega-crowd fix on. (And really, I start to really yearn for the deep-fried turkey sammich by June...and since the dumb thing is now at the Twins Stadium I can get that craving out of the way any old time. What I'm saying is, my reasons for actually fighting the unwashed masses diminished significantly...And also...finding out you can get most Fair Food pretty much year round. Which I knew. But still...)

I put the call out on FB for a Fair Date, and had a few nibbles but was prepared to retire the notion of tandem/group Fair visits and see how I'd do flying solo. And when mentioning it the night before, my roommate started grilling me as to the "what time I was leaving" etc. before asking if it was okay if he tagged along. And I said "Okay".

And for folks who know the Bean, and his peccadilloes regarding crowds of more than 4-5 people? Please know that this is pretty amazing.


Pictured. Apparently the 3rd most crowded/highest attended Fair day. Also, see those deep fried pickles? Longest damn line, ever.


Of course I did the smart thing and rousted my ass up for a nice 7 mile trot before we left to get the metabolism moving in preparation, and then Bean and I found the closest park and ride to our house & began our adventure. Sufficed to say...we had a really nice time. He was a capable companion, nimbly navigating the crowds and "keeping up" with Mikey Longshanks. He didn't judge me for wanting a 10am beer with my Pronto Pup. We picked opportune times to find shady areas to rest/get away from the crowds. We shared all sharable dishes. Took pictures when asked. Let me make juvenile dick jokes when we visited the poultry barn. And was trying to be helpful in finding the Surly Booth, even though we couldn't find it. All told, we managed to stay for nearly 4-5 hours before hitting a wall and skiddadling.

Unfortunately, my camera died before I could document a lions share of the insanity that was milling about Falcon Heights that day (Or the dishes we enjoyed.) So I hope the list and these few will give you a taste...a taste of that dirty, dirty Fair. See you next year.

We et/drunk:
Pronto Pup, Elk Burger, Deep Fried Turkey Sammich, New Zealand King Potatoes, Deep Fried Crab Fritters (New, and a winner), 2 Nordeasters, and a Summit. Urp.

Not often you find an adult with the Fraggle Hair. Pictured with 10am beer. And easily-identifiable bandana of strength.

Bean found a quiet corner to recharge in Heritage Square. Mom told me it looks like he's having a time out. Which to be fair, he kinda is.

Camera p#ssed out before I could get a ton of the obnoxious novelty t-shirts. And what better statement at an event that revels in Bacchanalian amounts of excess...

The MN Renaissance Festival... (Monday, September 5th)
Hoping to capitalize on her brief days off during tech, I was able to corral Companion #1 for a Labor Day Renaissance Festival Jaunt. (FYI- Sign up for Groupon/Star Tribune Steals...etc. We snagged a sweet discount on two-fer tickets. Very cost effective)

Hipster T-Shirts never say die...


The metabolism revver wound up being our hauling our buns up and early for a festive jaunt to the Victory 10K to support D-Gangs and FeeJ, before cleaning up and heading to Shack-of-Pee...and eagerly anticipated 16th Century Shenanigans. While the Belly-Dancing weekend isn't my tip-top fave (and my partiality to the cooler late-Autumn weather) we managed to get a beautiful sunny day...and Mo full of mischief. ("If they're going to heckle me? I'll see their heckle and raise!") Said mischief wasn't too bad, and was usually relegated to finding people who made good photo-ops, and my standing next to them as she pretended to take my picture while covertly snapping them.

We were joined by Davey and KT, and had another really wonderful day. (And we stayed 3 x's the amount of time we were out there last year!) We ended up running into a gaggle of friends who decided that Monday was also their day of Renning- And later on left tired, with sore and dirty feet... full, and happy that we all took turns petting a python. (No Jon Voight's were harmed during the day, I hear)

The end of day nibble tally: Chindian food (Curry chicken and Veggie Samosas), shared Turkey leg, Chicken Wild Rice Soup in a bread bowl, Apple pie ala mode, Sweet Potato Fries, Egyptian/Raspberry Mead...and many, many beers. (Not Root Beer. "What?!? Are you on your PERIOD!?!?" That's my girl.) Anyway, if you need me I'll be in the corner popping Prilosec with a Pepto chaser...

I have now entered the pantheon of d-bags who make stupid jokes regarding their biceps around signs that say "Blah de blah bans guns on the premises." I make no apologies. We were having fun.

Meal #1- Veggie Samosas (a little dry and lacking veggies), Curry chicken (delightful), Schell's Oktoberfest and a Guiness. What did you think we were having for breakfast?

Honestly...I don't know why this was an important picture. I just thought Mo asking me to pose by it and "look serious" to be hilarious.

Oh...what? Look similar to the one I snapped at the State Fair? And they are evvvverywhere at Fest.

Pictured: Microencephalitic finally finds a hat that makes my head look normal, albeit mildly double-chinned. And it sorted me into "Sandwichdor" or "Gryffinbeer" or some stuff.

Here's the thing...coming in costume is encouraged. KT told me that when she was working out there people wouldn't just try and keep it within the time period...but that people would show up dressed as Darth Vader...a Storm Trooper. (My roommate told me that, long ago, he went in drag as a Geisha. Don't ask, because I didn't) And hey, more power to them. This guy? We called him "Sir Menards from Pressed Tinsville"...based solely on the location of where he acquired his materials. I know, right? It's 85 degrees, btw...and I was swassing like mad.

Aren't we fun? We hug. We love. We huzzah. And we-meaning the royal "me"- still stands by my (appropriated) opinion that Mead tastes like a drunken-diabetics p#ss...no matter if it's iced or not.

B4/After

pictured: Screaming agony at mile 9. Empty water. Short-circuited MP3. And a GU packet sticking my tongue to the roof of my mouth...And who taught me how to put on a bandana?(6/2010)

Pictured: Banana-rexia and a better soundtrack (7/2011) Just keep runnin'...

rantrantrant...

Did you guys know that I work out? Little known fact. Try and eat light and healthy. Run. Karate. Lift weights. Take frequent cat-naps. All that shit. I'm also fairly well-read on those aforementioned subjects. Not surprisingly, I can confidently speak to the fact that I have a good frame of reference if one were to broach the topic of, ohhhhh, fad diets.

Now before you click away to TMZ or whatever, hear me out: I've frassed to you about supplements, stupid fitness rags and their tendency to regurgitate the same kind of article every other month wedged in with the newest trendy fitness routines. (Yoga! Pilates! Kickboxing! Tae-Bo! Tae 90X! Pil-boxing! Yoga Jumproping!) I'll frass about books I've read and either glommed some sort of benefit about or books that I don't think have a metric shit ton of merit.

Go on. Google search "stretching before running?" The links go on like a high school debate. ("Yes you should!" "No you shouldn't!" "You'll live!" "YOU'LL DIE!!!" For the record? And for fact? I don't think that stretching out before any exercise is a bad idea. At all. ) In fact, most diet advice that doesn't come from a professional tends to lean toward the stupid, contrary, muddled, and passionate- for all the wrong reasons. Best person to talk to about your health and fitness? A doctor. Unquestionably.

Recently a friend of mine visited a place where the newest fad diet program is offered (which is to say it's a new South Beach/Atkins knock-off) which tries to emulate our hunter gatherer meals from Captain Caveman-y times. I read over the haves and have nots and did some quick research...and while I "get" it and wanted to sound supportive? My Spider-Sense was still tingling. Basically you eat nothing BUT meat. No pasta. No Refined sugar. One "cheat" day...(I hate that term, btw. I've said it before, yeah. And I've used it as an excuse to eat like shit. I still hate it) And no fucking legumes? Hoooookay. I can see how this'd appeal to people looking for something to, you know, work. Somehow.

Now lest you think I'm ass-talking, I've seen people who have experienced success with Atkins et.al. The were admittedly overweight, and by kiboshing the carbs and (wait for it...) moderating their remaining portions they were able to get their bodies to go catabolic and burn off the solid fuel they'd been carrying. (Although, friends, before you attack that steak-a-week diet in earnest, keep in mind these friends experienced a marked decrease in energy. And after seeing a doctor for a mid-Atkins check up? A marked increase in cholesterol) And so whatever, what's my point? 70 years ago cigarettes were supposed to aid digestion and "relax the throat". What's the big deal with this one?

Well...

This friend tells me that the initial consultation/2 hour introductory meeting included a couple of wires being attached to them and getting a body comp analysis. Fine. Understanding that next to water immersion I think that the electric jolt is a fairly accurate method to get your body fat percentage. Except THIS test also gave a laundry list of horse shit. Something about their cell/electrolyte catalyst being pretty bad yadda yadda and being a good candidate for the program. Right. Next we'll try this phrenology machine that strongly resembles a collander pot to ascertain your aura balance.

One of the other "rules" of this "diet" was no running. This made me want my friend to question them on the idea that human beings evolved to be runners, or if they'd ever heard of the concept of "persistance running" which anthropologists have speculated might have been how our hunting-gathering ancestors tracked down faster prey? (To be fair, according to their program periodic 10 minute sprints were okay. I started to honestly wonder if this practically non-existent fitness routine that was meant to compliment the diet was designed by a 4th grader during track and field day. Next up! Monkey bars and vigorously run backwards up the slide until the teacher aides give you a time-out!) Looking around the room, my buddy said they saw other people who were at that two-hour informational meeting that had the look of those who want this diet to work for them. An excitable prospect if you find it difficult to balance out that delicate teeter-totter of diet and exercise. And easy...excitable...prospect. Nothing but meat.

This all ended in their sending a politely worded email a day later declining the program and the eventual response from the meat-counselor strongly advising they reconsider as their findings after that initial electro-shock were startling bad for someone as young as they were. In other words, they tried a fucking fear-tactic to keep them on. And that is what really chaps my hide the most.

Going back 15 odd years, I had a friend whose mom sold high-end supplements. They had an entire kitchen cabinet filled to bursting with these pricey bastards, and I learned later that if they didn't make their sales quota- they had to buy their own product. This, is what my father reffered to as a "pyramid scheme". And although I felt it polite not to mention that lil' nugget to my friend, she railed on me for not taking more supplements. I explained that I sometimes did take supplements, recommended after I met with the dietician at the "Y" who also turned me on to the idea that: "if you have a well rounded diet and balanced, you should be getting all of the vitamins you need". And then they recommended a book. My old friend responded to this with "Well? How do you KNOW you're getting them? You DON'T!"

Point taken. In the meantime, enjoy your rich and dark urine and overworked kidney's.

Again...

I don't think a good health and wellness program entails a drill sergeant ala' "The Biggest Loser". And I don't think that the fad diets/routines are strictly speaking helping their cause by trying to rule through fear. A good coach/trainer/training partner/running partner whatever will encourage you and push you to do better. Do more reps. Go heavier. Be a spotter. Encourage you run another mile and not walk. Point out areas where you're dropping your guard hand or opening your mouth before you go to kick. (I did that. FYI.)

Barring that, they'll drop their drawers and moon you if they start running ahead of you. (That's my boy, Davey.)

Look...I say to you all how much I love my Veeb's and minimalist kicks and how they've helped my running. Great. For me. Sorry. That's my selfish Sally Self. What I'm not going to say is that you're stupid for not wearing them. Or that you're guaranteeing yourself injury if you don't wear them. Or if you eat a meat-heavy diet you'll DIE*! I honestly believe that you build up a resistance in your audience if you lay down some finite be-all end-all rule that must be adhered to. How arrogant must you be to have such absolute conviction in your product? Redick. I was tempted to say to my friend "Do the paleo-program, but see your personal physician for a physical first. Blood draws. Pee test. The works. And after the 60 days, go back and see how you fare." (Meanwhile, the mean part of me will be enrolling in another marathon and enjoying my Little Caesar Hot N Ready pizza when they come over. I am nothing if not cruel.)

Stupid diet....

And we're running...again...

(pictured: Symbol of DC Superhero "The Flash". I've toyed with the idea of getting a bright red race outfit for visibility purposes and affixing this patch to the chest...then kiboshed it because I'm not very fast and...well he's just not my favorite superhero)

BOOM! Double Blaug!

Moda, Feej, and I will be running the Red, White, and Boom on 7/4. Because we're weird. And running a half-Mary on our day off seemed like a pretty good idea at the time. (You know? I dragged my feet on some weird tangent about how "it's right outside my back door" and "well why wouldn't I run a neighborhood race?" yadda yadda...it's just not happening. There's no real benign reason to be dragging our asses to the starting line at 6am. Oh wait...yes there is...) I had this funny scenario in my head where I'd drag my feet on running, then agree to crew FeeJ and Moda, then show up on race day taking off my hoodie to reveal MY RACE NUMBER!!!

Unfortunately, my evasiveness was viewed as more annoying than anything. That and they sniffed me out when the race numbers were made available online. So much for surprises, no matter how weak I make them.

Hey...anyone remember last year? When Moda was educating me about "Race Karma" and we volunteered for the R/W/B b/c it was so close to us? We ran the Lake Harriet 10K on July 3rd then went over to help unload the cup and water trucks for the beverage station? Man. That was a HOT day. And the very next day when we got up to go to our water station where we had volunteered behind the Quarry? And, and, and what did it do? Yeeeeeah.

P#ssing rain. At 7am. On 7/4. We stood there soggy in our makeshift garbage bag ponchos. And when the rain did clear? And the early a.m. heat showed up? Ssssssssteamy business, kids. Anyway, my point of this whiney tirade is that because every race I've done so far this year climatologically speaking has been an exact replica of 2010? I'm visualizing soggy bottoms for at least half of the run.

Which is to say that the weather's no big deal. What is a big deal is working through injury. And f#ck all it's getting in my brain and psyching me out. Last weekend I did an exploratory run of the course just to get more-or-less familiar with the terrain. We've all trod the area, and the Deming Heights hill (the "Hard" hill on the race) has been part of my training now for a few months- I've even gone so far as to mentally say "Hi" to it when I approach, hoping the Earth Gods ease the incline and carry me up the hill. Shut it. The rest of the weekend I did lawn work in my heavy leather "outdoor shoes", then woke up on Sunday with a foot that felt like it was caught in a bear trap. Nigh on unwalkable. Gimpy limp.

And I got worried. Here's the big drawback to minimalist shoes, frassers: As soon as you switch back to heavy soled shoes, you run the risk of injury. And since I've bitched about this before (so it shouldn't have been a big surprise)...I was hoping that it wouldn't be right before my next f#cking race. My last run a few days ago in my Free's (which I'm racing in) was a 6 mile exercise in pain. I switched to two "shorty" runs in my Veeb's which both felt better. (I won't even lie when I say I was considering racing the half-Mary in them. I just haven't put up the distance)

So after the improvement I've been experiencing this year, I'm feeling a little "back to square one"-ish. I've been re-reading "Born To Run" (Which you should all. read. Inspirational, Exciting, and Informative. Something for runners and non-runners alike. Truth) to keep me inspired and focused. But I'm approaching this race with more trepidation than I did the Mpls Half-Mary. And it's mostly pissing me off. Frass. I wasn't even hoping to PR this one. Just run a fun long-weekend race with buddies.

Frass N' Grumble.

Annnnnyway, as I polish of this glass of whine I'd like to (again) encourage you 4 readers to drag your butts out to NE Mipples this coming Monday to cheer the race if you can. I know that many of you don't get done puking until noon, but your support is nevertheless welcome and appreciated down to the soles of our feet.

Happy Fourth o' July, friends!

New Jobbbb!

Hey. I gotta job! Technically I'm finishing my third week, but it's new to me! For the first time in over 2 years I got myself a FT position, with bennies, and NOT as a temp. (More on that in a second.)



So there I was temping over at the Blue Electric Box and thinking that it'd be a decent temporary gig, but the managers mentioned that as they grow as a department, the possibilities of placing me as a permanent employee would grow as well. And that was fine. I mean, it was work. There was the on-site gym. Great cafeteria. Actor friendly. (Meaning, quite a few actor buddies were on site) Seemingly Flexible. And more or less Friendly. (You grow to loathe the "temp treatment"...regardless of what you think or what the managers say, I'd been placed at 3 different offices where you were treated with outright contempt. Kind of like being relegated to the cafeteria table away from the popular kids. And you eat it. Every day. Because you need the job. At least I did...)



My issue was that it was kinda mind-numbing. Under-challenging. Moreover, my direct report was...not a people person? Exact opposite, in fact. A poooooor leader. Yelled instructions and assignments at us through our door in passing. I had to schedule a meeting w/my temp agency as to what direction I was going since it didn't seem like I was getting a whole lot of guidance. (And he was a mouse-grabber. Like, grab your mouse right out of your hand to "show" you what he couldn't communicate verbally. Bad form.) Then when you couple in the fact that he was a little condescending- to everyone- I was getting antsy and a little pissy. (The "productivity" tracker they implemented was bullshit too. That's neither here nor there. I just haaaaaaate micro-management)


And then the Careerbuilder threw me a bone.


There was a QA position in a small company that was literally a nickel toss away from my home. The required skill set seemed aligned with my own so I threw'em my resume' and as luck would have it- I landed an interview. (First a phone interview w/their Vegas HR dept. Which was...weird...if not a little casual) I ended up with a face to face 2nd interview the following week and my hopes were starting to get higher. After I took the day off at the Temp job to hit it... I marveled at the 3 minute commute from my front door. I imagined bike rides. Lower blood pressure due to not having a s#itty commute. And after finally meeting the interviewers with their ridiculous sense of humor, the fact that one of them found my marathon small talk interesting, being told I was the best fit for the position based on my experience...It was in the BAG, baby!!!


AAnnnnd I blew it. Actually, I was positive I blew it. Something felt wonky when I walked out. And after 5 days of waiting w/baited breath and thinking about how to word my resignation email...I got the "we decided to go in another direction" phone call. So...I exhaled. Spent a day stewing with it. And woke up the next day thinking about how I was going to make my next few (days/weeks/months/years) working at Blue Box pleasant. That's right. I decided to flip my attitude and see if I could make a go of it. Good for me, right? Didn't mean I wouldn't keep looking for other things, right? RIGHT??!?!?!


And like an 80's movie where the "ex" comes back while you're just getting on your feet? Apparently one of the candidates dropped and they called me to ask if I was still interested in the position. MY EMOTIONS!!!! YOU TOY WITH THEM!!!!


There were some wonky hitches...I kept it on the complete down low until the offer was extended, accepted, my paperwork was received and in good order...hell, I thought I'd jinx it until after my pee-test cleared. But clear it did. And on 6/13? Jobbed. It didn't take me more than a day to realize that I made a good choice. It might have been also when the CEO dropped off the company magazine and actually said "Here's one for Mikey!" that I was almost positive I did.

The money isn't tremendous. And figuring out benefits after nearly 8 years was a chore. But it is a small company. And growing, with a good business model. With the commute being so easy, it's amazing I spent so many years angry at other people...more amazing I didn't suffer a heart attack. My co-worker is cool. She's a gear-head and a self-proclaimed "Jeep Snob" who fills me in on she and her husbands latest off-road shenanigans. (I'm learning about cars, yo. A LOT about cars) So yeah. I can go to the doctor and dentist now. Pip.



So that, friends, is me at my new job.

Replace my Central A/C

Sorry. I know I have catching up to do on my stories, but it is Summer, my time and funds are limited, and I'm querying the universe to see if anyone has any suggestions/recommendations before I put actual leg-work into getting this thing fixed/replaced/bid on.

Okay, so most of you know I biffed when playing with the tiller in the backyard last month and what you see above is the result of my incompetence. The tiller, a minute after I started it, "kicked" up and banged that lil' lower corner. Freon proceeded to blow out like a cartoon steam whistle, and when it finally stopped? I couldn't really look inside to see what exactly was wrong. It seemed like a small hole, and (what I was secretly hoping) a small fix that my Utility company would be able to rectify. (I am, as you know, on the Service Plus plan. Ahem. <--Fancy Pants McGhee)

Anyway, after the record-setting heat and the fact that I was put on a wait list for the repair I ended up purchasing a window unit in the interim to make sure that at least my 2nd floor stayed marginally cool when it gets dirty hot this summer, and waited sweatily until the repair person showed up with their diagnosis. I had a show on repair day, so I told them what the issue was and tasked my roommate with taking meticulous notes to let me know what the issue/fix was for when I got home. (He's really, really good at that sort of thing) And the news, it turned out, seemed pretty bad.

So I'm listing the issues/repairs below, and I have to tell you- I think it's kind of bunk. At least, I have a hard time believing it. The bottom line, per the dude, was that it's irreparable. My thought was, at best, someone could replace the copper tube and replace the freon and away we go. Worst case, I find a similar model, chuck the old one, plug the (used) replacement in, away we go. Apparently, that isn't the case. And from the people I've spoken to- Both people who know a/c and other friends? It seems weird that they'd say that it can't be fixed. So HERE'S WHERE I'D LIKE YOUR HELP pleeeease:

(Notes were taken by my roommate. I've made comments/questions next to the bulleted list in italics)

The repair record card said: Coil Cannot Be repaired, Need New A/C (Ooookay...why? )

The Bean's notes, based on the dude who inspected it:
-Repair not possible, and if someone says they can do it, they're fools. (S#it. I pity fools)
- Replace outside "RZZ" possible with NEW "RZZ" - NOT old, or used equipment. (Wait, so then I can just replace the parts and it can be repaired? I'm confused)
- OR replace the inside/outside w/"R410A" (Wait...what about the hole?)

DIAGRAM'd!!! "Outside" hardware means the a/c unit, "Inside" is the thing that it connects to, that's built into the furnace.

OUTSIDE HARDWARE<---CONNECTING HARDWARE---> INSIDE HARDWARE
"RZZ" <-----MUST BE COMPATIBLE WITH WHAT'S INSIDE---> "RZZ"
(Apparently, my 10 year old central a/c is now obsolete. Why? Oh. R410A)
"R410A"<----IN SHORT, THE MODELS MUST MATCH---> "R410A"

(So then it's just a parts issue. Right? Why should I replace this again? Why are they fools? Confused Copernicus!)

Repair person's closing thoughts:

-Shop anywhere you want for new hardware, including CenterPoint

-Repair theoretically possible, but would contaminate the system sooner or later. (What the s#it does that even mean? My web research shows contamination to be a microbe or dust problem for folks with allergies. WTF does this mean? OUTBREAK?!?!?

So there is my issue in a nutshell. If you've clicked on this link via FB to see my a/c issue, and aren't a family member, and have something constructive or beneficial to say? You have my deepest thanks. Stay frosty, readers...come August I'm gonna be a sweaty beast.

-

Movie Review: "X-Men: First Class"

Fair warning...I'm going to spoil the shit out of this movie.

(sighs) I had a long drawn out opening here. I'm skipping it because if you're reading this you've either seen the 4 other films in the X-Men movie franchise or have some familiarity with the source material. In telling you that I'm a nerd/geek, I should probably qualify it by also saying I'm not some dipshit who'll blindly walk into a franchise movie. I can weigh comic/sci-fi films on my very own, make informed decisions based on reviews, gut-feelings, and whether or not I care. (I'm also very forgiving.) This is why I can watch "Daredevil" or "Superman Returns" knowing they might not be great but appreciate them for what they are. And avoid the latest "Pirates" franchise money grabber or "Elektra" outright. Or take "Batman and Robin" out of my VCR, take a crap in the case, duct tape it shut, and put it in the overnight bin at Hollywood Video with a post-it note that says "You're Welcome" on it. Might've happened.

Anyway, I own X3 and Wolverine which are the dogs/red-headed stepchildren of the franchise because of my OCD on owning full franchise runs on DVD (something I'm loosening up on as I get older) and because I can still find the love in them. It's there, buried in shitty scripts and pacing...ego projects coughcoughHughJackmancoughcough (Okay, quick rant...you're well built, Hugh. We get it. But please don't be a McConnaudouche and be shirtless in EVERY movie, kay? It's "The Prestige" for pities sake. Victorian London. And you HAVE to have a shirtless scene in it? You're built like a frickin' truck, not a sleight-of-hand master. Ugh. End. Rant)

Okay...

Plot synopsis- The US gov't enlists help of mutants to stem the tide of the Red Menace during the Cuban Missile crisis. Kevin Bacon, a degree beside himself, wants World War 3. Hijinks ensue.

So I had some reservations going into this one. A friend of mine said "I get tired of 'prequels'...why can't they up and do the first story first and build from there?" Fair enough. He's in the business and understands that blockbuster summer movies typically pull a "Star Wars" to gauge fan interest FIRST before bleeding the property dry by turning around 4 films into a series to do an "origin" story. And I think that was my initial reservation, coupled with the fact that we already know where this story is going. Like "Titanic" with Mutants but sans a nekkid Kate Winslet.

That said, I like the director's body of work ("Stardust" is a gem, btw. And if you haven't seen "Layer Cake", shame on you.) and the leads were cast well enough to give it a chance. ALSO, there's the fact that I personally think it's cool that they're now taking these huge studio genre films and making them into period pieces. (I have high hopes for you, "Captain America")

I guess...well...with "X-Men: First Class"? I got kind of bored. Had a "Third Class" experience, if you will. See...

I "get" what they were trying to do. Really. Give it that swinging 60's James Bond vibe. And I "think" they were trying to piece it all in to the 1st three X-Men movies for continuities sake. Not just gentle winks and nudges to the audience and fans, but really say "This is where THEY started. Remember? Remember? We got the metal mover. The mentalist. The blue lady! It's like the same movie in 1961!" And they wanted us to buy into it.

Except- I'm not gonna toss continuity aside for the sake of my own enjoyment here. If you want to keep continuity and to be still be groundbreaking? Do your homework better. Or make the delineations clear enough for widespread enjoyment to a larger audience base and not to people like me who've seen the first few "X" movies a few times...enough to have more questions and head scratching WTF moments walking out that most people who've NEVER seen them might-not-have.

For example: They take the time to make a nearly shot-for-shot reference to the beginning of the first "X-Men" in the concentration camp to start the story. Then, they have not one but TWO magical cameo's in the form of the "older" Mystique and by Mr. Jackman. (In, IMO, the best use of a character throwback and F-Bomb in a PG-13 film) We have the Blackbird. We have a blue furry beast. Magneto and how he got his name and helmet. The same makeup on Mystique. And hey, isn't that African-American Girl when Xavier uses Cerebro...doesn't she have white hair? Isn't that Storm? There's just so much that puts it in the exact same universe as the first three movies. It stands to reason, no...it makes sense that THAT is what they were going for.

So then if we know Prof. X winds up in a wheelchair (but he's shown walking at different points in 2 of the previous franchise films...and actually still buddies with Magneto when they're older like at the start of "X3") Then why the shit did they decide to end it like they did? He winds up paralyzed and still with hair while Magneto and the rest of the bad guys saunter off? Why not make him go bald the first time he uses Cerebro? (Although, the joke they placed in it's stead "Can we shave your head?"/"No." was good) And (sideways tangent) why the shit is Moira MacTaggert...who is so very-very Scottish in the comics and "X3"- AND played by Brit Rose Byrne...why is she American? So that she can be CIA? I just...what?

Other nitpicks: Magneto says to Mystique that he likes his women older when she's trying to seduce him (insert cameo by Ms. Romijn) and then when she turns back into her "normal" form he then decides to bed her? That takes their relationship to a different level in the other films? (Once you go blue, you can never go...I don't know) And really, reeeeeeeally? Don't patronize me. Like, please don't make me feel like an enormous dipshit. Well how did they do this? When the caption says "Moscow, USSR" and yup...it's indeed a snowy day in the Kremlin. Then you go back and show the exact same shot? You don't NEED to have the gawdamn caption say "Moscow, USSR". We are stupid, we audiences. But I think you didn't lose us in 5 minutes.

And I've read that everyone is fawning over the Bacon. Except I kind of thought he made it a little too gleefully evil. It worked at the beginning when he was goading young Magneto, but instead of getting cold and "evil" he just got more gleeful and cackle-y. (Props, though, for a really awesome death scene) Sebastian Shaw is supposed to be one smooth Mo-Fo...Kevin Bacon acted like he didn't know what he was supposed to be doing in a super-hero movie.

And then there is Emma Frost. Miz Jones...I mean really? You cast a Victoria's Secret Mannequin? She. Sucks. And f#ck it if I HATE HATE HATE the "crystal" power she has. Just make her a mind reader/f#cker and be done with it. Or cast a piece of balsa wood. You'd get a better actor. Lastly...let's not ride the "Proud to be a Mutant" mantra into the ground. It sounds...lame. Like...we get it. A dramatic close-up of a character saying the phrase doesn't make it powerful. Actually, when you've been trying to build it up until this point? It kind of does the opposite.

Did I like it? Meh. Maybe enough to own it as a bookend to the rest of the X-Men films I own. I think Fassbender is great. McAvoy does good work. (Although do we always need the visual cue of "touching your temple" when you're "reading minds"? Just read the stupid minds. You have an awesome power. Probably the best power. And you need to make constipated migraine face every time? Guh) I think that if you just had a film of the two of them in the swinging sixties, getting into shenanigans or chasing Nazi's in Argentina? That, my friends, would be an EXCELLENT film.

Instead we get a clunky, mildly uneven entry into the series that proves the following: It's a better film than X-3 and Wolverine put together. But unfortunately, that ain't saying much.

2/4 stars. And it gets that many only because of a great cameo and reasonably well- paced direction and action sequences.

Race day Re-Cap

Pictured- The author's well worn Lunar-Fly's. After hundred's of miles of minimalist training I think it's safe to retire them to a nice senior community in Florida.

Whew. I'd love to bend your ear with a mile-for-mile play-by-play but I'm still pretty tired and living off of the residual memory of how it went yesterday- In addition to the outpouring of support of Moda, D-Gangs, D+A and Crash, as well as surprise sightings/appearances of Balcolm-In-The-Middle, Matthus, and bless her heart...the original sporting cheerleader, Mom.



In brief-

After setting out my gear and a fitful night's sleep, I was up and biking to the Depot around 5:30 am after a breakfast of 1 gallon of water and two cups of java. We met, stretched a little, frassed, and eventually meandered over to the start. I was introduced to FeeJ's buddy Ryan and we milled about on the street waiting for a Port-a-John and getting anxious listening to the announcer do the pre-start countdown...which seemed closer than would allow us to actually get a chance to get to pee.

Moda miraculously found us in the throngs, we waited and waited until the buzzer announced the start and waited some more. (A fellow runner told me not to worry. As soon as the buzzer yelped the lines would dissipate to free us up to pee. And they did. And thank you, miss.)

FeeJ and her Garmin were great for mellowing me out from the get-go (my instinct being to catch up with the crowd...and to stop dancing to N-Sync's "Bye-Bye-Bye") and keeping a steady pace for the first few miles. My only running goals (while, you know, actually "running" ) were not to get too ahead of myself speed-wise, and to hopefully "open'er up" around mile 10 if I was feeling good. We had some Coach-Moda and D-Gang sightings on the first few miles with Moda playing Drill Sergeant during my more juvenile race-moments of air-drumming during "Stone-in-Love" ("IF YOU HAVE ENOUGH ENERGY TO AIR-GUITAR, YOU SHOULD BE RUNNING FASTER!")

Duly noted.

After doubling back across the Stone-Arch (and memory of how last year I was starting to "feel" it.) we hit the hills (soundtrack-"Run, Run Away"). I kept up with double-fisting the water and Powerade, making sure to knock back the "Ade" FIRST then warsh it down with water. I skipped the GU and kept the beat with my mix and tried to just keep moving forward. Short steps. Upright posture. By mile 8 or 9 (I think) I was feeling fine on the uphills and doing my best to power-down the downs then level-off. I had enough in my tank. And I actually felt okay.

FeeJ and I parted ways a little bit before the turnaround back to the "G", and while I had hoped to keep with my plan of putting on speed for the last 3 miles I had mis-read the mile marker and slowed down thinking there were really 5 miles left (whoops) when it was more like 2.5. And then when I was increasing my speed on a particular downhill, I was weaving between runners when I caught a pothole which twisted my ankle in and I had to do the quick 10 second assessment (Is it broken? Can I put weight on it?) My back was frassy, but I figured at least my engines were moving me forward. And holy crap did it scare me.

My coaches had been hollering encouragement from the sides of the roads for the last few, but I'd be lying if I said I was actually listening. Outside of confirming with Moda there was only a mile or so left, I plugged back in ("Roll with the Changes") and figured I should power on through to the end. My breathing was still okay and there wasn't any gorge coming back up under the bridge heading toward the finish so when I saw the balloons and crap I figured I should just see how fast I could go, consistently, to finish.

And no shit, I finished in 2:08. Nearly 30 minutes off of my time from last year. I didn't even have tunnel vision. For her part, as proud as she was and proud as I was that she came out to cheer? Mother did not hug her sweaty second-born. For my part, I kept it together long enough to run (ha!) back to the finish-line and cheer on my friend FeeJ. Good job, love. Tremendous job for someone who hadn't ran a mile one year ago.

And now, Moda is already telling me I should try shaving off time to get sub-2 with my next run. I haven't decided if the Red, White, and Boom will be the next race (It's tropically prohibitive in MN in July.) but maybe, just maybe I'll try it for the Monster Dash?

God knows I'm wearing my hypocrisy quite well. ("This is the first and LAST half I'm doing! Time to cross THIS off the Bucket List...LOL!" Mikey, circa 2010)

But maybe I can do that. Moda, Gangs, et.al have made me think about things while running that I've been able to practically apply to both my training and race day: Use what's in the tank and leave it on the course, and push yourself. I think it was my rationale that I'd try and run the last 5K at a faster tempo that I figured that maybe I wasn't pushing my self as hard as I could. I could have just plodded out the half and finished this year. And been done. Hey. Another medal and wicker shirt. But who was stopping me. I wasn't injured. I was (thankfully) not broken from that pot-hole. The only thing keeping me from getting up those hills would have been me. And I was all like..."Fuck those hills." No really. In my brain, I couldn't respond to my friends because I was making wine under my feet. With the hills. Wine-Hill-Fucking. Whatever makes your PR, right? Shut it.

And thanks for humoring me these last few weeks. I can't promise that it'll end with this race. Shoot...I can't even post a gardening blog until the whirli-gigs stop falling. And I hope that maybe you'll see that any/everyone can start this insanity.


Race Day Raiment. Not only was I color coordinated like a Chaplin movie, but Under-Armour was my unofficial race day sponsor....down to the wrist-bands. Note "hankerchief head-band of power".

Pre-race happiness. At the Depot, and before the pain, 6/5/11



Motivational phrases at the starting line.

The line of runners, along W. River Parkway on race day- 6/5/11


Finishing line. I won't lie...last year they had a marching band playing. And I really, REALLY wanted the marching band back.


There were 3-4 things I wanted for this race. Remember? Strong finish, Do not stop to walk, disregard the PR and run my own race. Oh, and be standing and smiling at the end. The Guiness...well that was another charitable act on behalf of some spectators. Thank you for the carbs and kindness.

Weight, Weight...don't tell me...

Or, "Confessions of a banana-rexic"...Full disclaimer friends- This week, the old blog is going to be almost solely dedicated to running shit. The Mpls. Half-Marathon is coming up in less than a week and it's got me mooooore than excited. Also, this will probably be yet another devisive posts. As always, consult a doctor or dietician before engaging in any drastic changes in your diet or you could DIE! Remember, this worked for me- not you. Annnnnnd speaking of dieticians...)

So on the bulletin board at the gym, they have apparently hired themselves a dietician. She's pretty. Fit. Blonde. Sunkissed (all of this I surmised by her photo.) She has the appropriate pedigree (Master's in Biology, Foodology, Physiology or what have you.) She even included below her biography/introduction page her favorite recipe for "healthy" waffles... and smoothies.

And I. Don't. Trust her.

I mean, is it just me or would you trust Pamela Anderson to tell you what to eat, or Baron Vladimir Harkonnen?
Pictured: A guy that knows his sandwiches. Incidentally, this was found on a website titled "Fat Bad Guys". Thought I'd share.

I'm kidding, of course. I think that dieticians and personal trainers both are integral to adopting a safe and healthy lifestyle impetus. I've just never had much use for either, you know? I mean, frassing to friends and family about how I already know I eat healthy, I substitute whatever for whatever is fat free...I don't know. I guess I figured I already knew how to eat healthy. What I didn't figure is that I was such a damn poser about it.

Look. I don't mean to brag, but I've lost some weight. It's true. The other day before I engaged in a big lawn project I started looking for a pair of my grubby jeans. I ended up grabbing some from the musty pile of discards in the basement...only realizing that they weren't my torn up grubbies from the thrift store but my old "good" Gap jeans.

That I haven't been able to wear since before the cruise in 2008


Pictured- 34 X 30's being held up by a belt. And before you roll your eyes and tell me I'm flexing, you up and use an edger tiller for 4 hours and try mulching up a 4x3 section of new garden and see if you aren't exhaus...and I've been working pretty gawdamn hard at the gym...you know what? Forget it. Just...hey, 34 x 30's btw.

And just today, I weighed myself on the Devil-scale at the gym. As much as I hated it for showing a weight that was closer to 200 lbs 3-4 months ago I'm hoping that it isn't pulling my leg this time by saying that my weight was below 180.

For the first time. In over 3 years.

So here is the part where (if you've actually been following along, per normal) I reveal my huge free fitness secret. You can attribute it to running shitty long-distances over the last 3 months or so. Cutting out hard liquor last Fall. Whatever. I think it's mostly getting to the point in my training where I've figured out how to re-direct my terrible relationship with portion sizes and how certain foods affect me physically on a daily basis... and also from the standpoint of what fuel is most useful in helping me train effectively. And it turns out, I realized that I had a lot of what NASA refers to as "Solid Fuel" to use. In part...

1) The banana-rexic thing is a joke Moda and I came up with after I'd been so busy w/work et.al that I showed up for dinner starving because "All I had to eat today was a banana". (Truth) The reality is that I've figured out that I was (again) eating for the sake of eating at proscribed times, caving in to my snacky mentality, over-eating with the mindset that I was "in training", and binge-eating when my budget or time would allow. (Again, justifying a trip to Holy Land or Great Dragon buffet was a good idea to help eat more protein. Riiiight)

So I just stopped doing that. I started by drinking a lot more water and flavored sugar-free soda water in the morning and would just...put off having my breakfast yogurt and banana until closer to 10 am or so. I felt hungry by the time I needed to eat them, and it was close enough to lunch that it didn't make sense to me to snack or eat anything else before noon.

Annnnnnd I kind of went vegetarian. Kind of. Actually, mostly. (editors note: I'll probably bend your ear on another blog regarding how I've changed on this standpoint on this over the last 15 years or so. It's definitely fuel for another story.) Outside of being a good way to get your nutrients and roughage, I found that eating a whole box (sorry Moda) of Morningstar (insert the following: Mini-corn dogs, Buffalo Nugs, Ribs, Spicy Black Bean Burger) was a good way to get my lunch fix out of the way and not feel hungry until dinner. During tech, I'd have some soup and a large piece of crusty bread before hitting the in-house gym and if I was SO hungry I couldn't take it? I'd grab a Clif bar from S.A. and another liter of water. At night, I'd get home tired so I wasn't eating a big meal before bed. Then I'd repeat the routine during the work week.

On weekends I'd cheat, sure. It felt (sort of) uncomfortable eating a big breakfast and I found that I wasn't able to finish the big meals that I used to polish off in a sitting. And I usually wound up full enough to go the rest of the day doing chores/training/projects until dinner. Eater's remorse usually wasn't a factor because I'd try to go into the meal knowing if I demolished half a pizza, I'd wind up feeling like shit.

The biggest piece of my own advice that (I guess) I'd give away is this- It's important to stay hungry mentally and physically. To work on really, really getting the most enjoyment out of meals by holding off on eating them, and not eating it all of it in a sitting. And the trick, the hard part? Is disciplining yourself enough not to give in and gorge when the meal comes around.

2) That whole "solid fuel" joke and part about going vegetarian? Really wasn't all that jokey. Okay, so it's known in running circles that the idea of "carbing up" isn't all that smart to do the day right BEFORE the race. (Giving your body the time to break it down into usable glucose stores for extended running after having eaten a mere 8 hours before race day? Right. It doesn't make much sense. Two days? Gives you enough time to break it down.)

My pre-long race foods the night before are usually roughage heavy or (my favorite)= Sushi. Get a little Omega 3 in there, some rice, and I'm good to go the next morning without feeling too stuffed or acid reflux-y. And post-race? The idea of grease/beer/etc. is almost as nauseating to me as smelling bad milk. (I just...ugh. I want something simple. My tummy just gets messed UP post-distance runs.)

As for the solid fuel line, it's because of a comment that D-Gangs made a few months ago. The way I see it, I had a lot of fuel (extra adipose) wrapped around my waist. A lot. Male-Muffin Top, whatever. So whenever I was on a regular training run and after having a limited calorie daily diet I'd make it so that I was visualizing using "What I Had in the Tank". (And it's GOOD fuel. The chubs-sorry- are a rich source of energy to push you through.)

I didn't do this stupidly, mind you. I knew the 2 days before long runs I needed to carb up and I didn't place myself in the realm of ridiculous by starving myself. (Useless ideology if you ask me. Food tastes too good, and having no energy to run/lift makes the concept of getting stronger/improving PR's invalid.) But yeah. On my 3-6 miles early jaunts I eschewed having toast or a waffle and bread-y things for a banana and loading up on some water. Easy enough. And my energy has been fine.

And I'm down quite a few l.b.esses.

So that's the big secret. Hollywood stars and models need to work out a shit ton and starve themselves. It's true, and it's true. And if you think to the contrary, you're very very wrong. Starve. Themselves. And I'm vain, but not that vain to wanna look like I've been in a slave camp. But I am admittedly vain enough to use the fuel I had on me to push me through the training and feel good physically and in terms of self-image.

Bottom line- eat less. Do more cardio. It's the same formula that's been around for ages.