Tuesday, March 30

 

much better now.

I was a little cheesed-off earlier today. I'm sitting here enjoying a fine pint of Boddington's Pub Ale, so, right now, I really couldn't be any better.

Cheers.

 

Successful Marketing 101

I gotta get me one-a those.

Monday, March 29

 

ciò è il vostro segnale

One of the characteristics that of Google they are evidencing from the homepage is their translator moment. For the grins I have translate the blog to then of new Italian and to English for one sure fantastic accidental poetry. Here it is my starter shaft from yesterday:

Sunday, 28 March

More Speaks About the Food.

They are happy for signaling the past night that we have had other successful lunch to the Chameleon.

Slab of Monkfish is ventured me in one. It is to align, it is the lobster of the poor man. A fish is a lot much tender cake and -- not to ribbons -- with one nearly analogous structure of the combs. Chef more Jeff has coupled it with play-in on of the filled with smoke bacon of the often-slab sweet the fat quality.

In advance payment, the Invoice and Jen were expresses for the hour of the cocktail. We have introduced they it bottle of witha of the vodka of shed one, that immediately uncorked and she was stirred in two smooth V&T much.

Sunday, March 28

 

More talk about food.

I'm glad to report last night we had another successful dinner at Chameleon.

I ventured into a plate of Monkfish. It's true, it is the poor man's lobster. It's very a very sweet, tender fish -- not flaky -- with a texture almost akin to scallops. Plus Chef Jeff paired it with thick-slab bacon to play-up the sweet fatty goodness.

Beforehand Bill and Jen were prompt for cocktail hour. We presented them witha bottle of Hangar One vodka, which was immediately uncorked and mixed into two very smooth V&T's.

Saturday, March 27

 

Chilies, vodka, and olives

This morning we awoke about seven, needing coffee and having none. After a quick assessment of our options, we remembered The Golden West on The Avenue. Earlier this year, the restaurant left their tiny rowhouse space opting for a triple wide address up the street. On Valentine's day, we tried our best to elbow our way onto the waiting list. After five minutes of no acknowledgement of our existence, we opted for a sub-standard brunch at the Hon.

Not today. Opening at eight, we drove across town, parked in front and lurked for 20 minutes.

First in the door, the coffee was hot and the biscuits with home made jam not far behind. I opted for the chorizo burrito smothered in green chili sauce. Yow! Real spicy. Definitely not for beginners. Heather had a more mellow and tasty egg and bacon quesadilla with honest-to-God hash browns. The food never kept us away from the old spot, just the 25 minute wait to eat in a cramped former living room.

We then restocked our coffee and imbibable stock at The Wine Source. With dinner plans with the LockarDugans tonight, we planned a cocktail hour before our reservations. Knowing their favorite poison, we consulted the owner for a recommendation. Now, with Vodka being the new black, there's lots of flavors, lots of pretty bottles and plenty of revenue to be made for somebody, for sure. We finally settled on a liter, opting for a strike between style and substance.

On the way home, we hit the new Italian shop at Belvedere Square. Very clean; very aromatic. One thing I liked was the plain white boxes of ravioli, shells, and manicotti stacked floor-to-ceiling in the fridge cases. It reminded me of the marker-scrawled boxes of pasta at places like American Ravioli's or Latona's back around Gram and Gramp's house.

And the meat. Oh, the meat. Big, beautiful slabs of dry-aged beef, flavored sausages, pork, lamb and whole chickens. I've already planned several special event meals in my mind.

Friday, March 26

 

Rite of Spring

Today's weather reminds me of a poem I first read about twenty years ago:

Der spring has sprung, der grass iz riz,
I wonder where dem boidiez iz;
Der little boidz iz on der wing -
Ain't dat absoid?
Der little wingz iz on der boid!

This afternoon's weather really is something else. It gets me wanting to weed the garden, prune the shrubs and reseed the lawn. But, who am I kidding? It really gets me wanting to be outside, breathing deep and doing a whole lotta nothing.

I'm fairly certain I can schedule some time for that for this weekend.

Tuesday, March 23

 

Stickin' it to the man.

Stumbled upon this interesting way D.C. commuters work around the rules. Who knew?

 

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....

With a bad night's sleep on Sunday, last night saw me in bed by seven. Even with all that time in bed, I'm still draggin' ass today. *sigh*

Monday, March 22

 

"Ich bein ein Baltimoron."

As you drive out of Arcadia, and towards the main drag, the neat orderly homes slowly blend to grubbier rental houses. One such house is a ramshackle duplex, complete with crumbling retaining wall and shoddy roof.

The other morning we noticed several neatly dressed hipster types in the front lawn of this house. Looking at their monochrome blend of muted tones, leather briefcases and angular glasses, caused me to dub it:

The Eurohouse.

Sunday, March 21

 

Cool t-shirt of the day

"Republicans for Voldemort"
seen on a hipster mom at the Target in Pikesville.

 

Retuning

Since the first link to the Channel 4 ad is disabled, Heather found a back-up here.

Do you have a favorite swear word?

Saturday, March 20

 

Empty Vee

Goodbye, J.J.

I can remember when MTV was this dorky little cable channel at the end of the cable box dial. There was something decidedly UN-hip about MTV at that time. It was run more like a college radio station. No game shows, no documentaries. Just about thirty-five videos and filler time left to five on-air personalities.

I always kinda dug J.J. He was a big man witha soulful voice and he looked right at home in a satin jacket and Jeri-curl. Rock on.

Friday, March 19

 

My kind of politics

Take that, FCC.

Thanks to HET3 at the factory.

 

Let's ROCK!

Hey, bloggers! Are you ready for the Thursday Three? This ones all about live rock 'n roll shows.

1. Last band you went to see?

Hmmm. I think it may have been the Supersuckers country show extravaganza down at Fletcher's. For the uninitiated, the 'Suckers are a seminal alt.punk band that, from time to time, don the ten-galon hats and rodeo belt buckles and throw down on some old school Americana. It's not all tounge-in-cheek irony; these guys really love the stuff. One of the highlights: their rendition of Sail On by the Commodores. Pure magic.

2. Next band you're going to see? (or if you have no current plans to go to a show, next show you *would* go to, were the opportunity to present itself...)

Well, if the Campers are back in full force, I'm down with that. And if the Pixies really deliver on the reunion, well then, HELL YEAH, BRING IT!

3. Best show you ever saw (or if you're IN a band, the best show you ever played - which ever suits your fancy)

Ironically, I was just talking about this the other day over the lunchtable. I've seen lots of great shows, especially at the old 930. But the one that pops to mind is the Jane's Addiction show in 1989 (?).

The place was packed beyond packed, so we're all crammed cheek-to-jowl in a stinky little punk club. The band took stage, Perry Farrell wearing green opera gloves, a cowboy hat, and a pair of mirrored shades. The band begins with a song that starts slow and trancey. Eventually, it builds up, getting heavier and heavier. The crowd responds with a swaying motion. The song crecendos with Perry screaming at the top of his voice, and at the same time, throwing off the hat and glasses, revealing his crazy dialated eyes and mane of blue dreads. He's flailing his body like mad on stage. The crowd responds in kind.

Now, I'm not a slight man. Rather large, you could say. But when this audience moved, I was thrown around like a ragdoll. And not in a dangerous or violent way. It was like the crowd was one undulating, living force. I couldn't believe it. That was a great show...

Wednesday, March 17

 

Coming soon, to a theatre of the mind near you.

In the middle of last week, someone decided our little project needed a Powerpoint presentation. That meant the groove I was hitting while creating the prototype jerked to a complete halt. So for several days I've been making pretty pictures that, essentailly, mean nothing. No big; I've done this type of slapdash graphics before. It seems my position at this job is fireman anyway. So off I go to this current blaze, due to be extinguished on Thursday.

So, now it's time to review the presentation. Naturally, there's a spot reserved for the in-game screen. Then the designer-types start throwing their ideas around like chimp poo..

Basically, the consensus is: "The shot should show some 'cool event' happening onscreen."

I writhe. I fume.

In the action movie trailer of my mind I jump out of my seat and scream something like, " If I was able to keep prototyping the game, you'd HAVE a cool event happenning on screen, ya bastards!" Then I leap on boardroom table, firing twin Uzis into the ceiling, all the while screaming a guttural grunt like a certain California governor.

"CUT!"

But this ain't Hollywood. So after the meeting I scramble around the building begging for 3D models. Luckily, the Art Lead for another project has just what I need to swipe. By close of business, I got them what they wanted.

I hope there's no sequel today.


Monday, March 15

 

Stuff I did:

- Paid a visit to Home Anthology to catch-up with Rob and Nini. Since our last visit, their inventory has grown to some impressive quality furniture. Case-in-point: two Jacobsen Egg chairs. I'm sure you realize that no straight man should care so much about a swivel chair, but this is like a vintage Strat to a guitar aficionado. I sat, I slunk, I swivelled. Yeah, it was really cool.

- Over a pot of coffee yesterday morning, Heather and I made a to do list. Even though it was mostly awful, mundane housework chores nobody really wants to do, we put all the points on the killboard, save for cleaning the porch. (It was just too damn cold.) Truth be told, I have to give Heather mad props for tacking the behemoth laundry pile that lurks in the basement. Now all our clothes are clean, the bedroom dustbunnies are vanquished and I have a spotless tile floor in the lavaratory. Now I just have to keep it going.....

- About 4:30 I suggested a walk. On the way up the hill, I figured we could drop off the Pack and Play to Mike and Meg. Well, the quick drop-off turned into a seat on the couch, then a cup of tea, then more chit-chat and gossip over (evil) former neighbors. Maybe next week we'll get our walking swerve on. Oh, well.

Thursday, March 11

 

"Let's go, Hel-ga!"

This morning I received an e-mail from fellow blogger and new reader Rob:

Q: Now that baseball season is upon us, and you've confessed your Jersey roots, what team do you root for?
(Unless of course you hate baseball which would make the question, moot at best)

A: It's a fairly moot question. My older brother is the baseball (and sports) fan in the family. Living 30 miles West of NYC, we grew up with the Yankees on channel 11 every weekend. On a few occasions, my dad would get tickets for games in 'Da Bronx'. I never played little league, collected cards or knew about anybody outside of the '78 championship team.

Since moving to town, and subsequently being friends and roommates with a serious O's fan, I've found myself at Camden Yards on more than one occasion. But as far as players, trades, stats, stats, and, well, more stats, it may as well as be opera. Although there's no beer at the opera.

So which hat do I wear? Is that the more honest question? For sure, its the black cap with the bird, for civic pride and the zeitgeist of my adopted home town.

Sunday, March 7

 

Touch of evil?

Where ever I'm from, it seems, I can't get any good news.

Yesterday afternoon I first heard about the pontoon boat tragedy. As I was watching all the local affiliates scramble for every scrap of new information, I got to thinking about all the recent bad news events that have come out of Mobtown: the falling truck incident in January, the underground chemical fire, the former police commissioner's* slush fund, and, the Lewis's, Ray and Jamal

This morning, while browsing the news, I find this article about David Crosby. Where was he performing the night before? My old hometown of Wayne, NJ.

And don't forget, the 'goodwill abassaduhs' of my indigenous culture are back on HBO tonight.

* perhaps you've seen him on The Wire?

Saturday, March 6

 

Just like Omah used to order...

Last night we jumped downtown to our original Korean haunt, Nam Kang. We hadn't been in some time, but not too much of the old charm had changed.

The Bi Bim Bap is still screaming hot in a stone pot. The Kim-chi just as varied; potato salad to fermented cabbage to dried sardines. The service is still swift and friendly. The stucco walls are still a faded Pepto Bismol pink. However, the first thing we noticed was the bright and shiny new blue linoleum floor.

And the tennis balls placed on every leg on every chair to avoid scuffing.

Thursday, March 4

 

*Thursday Three*

Thanks to Miss Lis, this week's thursday three is about regrettable fashion choices.

1. Most ill conceived hairstyle you ever sported?

Let's review, shall we? I'm a North Jersey Italian-American boy who came up in the 80's. Hmmmmm.... Let's see... Is it possible I used to wear a Mullet when I was younger? Um, yeah. I did.

2. Most tragic ensemble you wore with pride but would now like to invent time travel just so you can go back and kill yourself (or at least the person who took those awful pictures)

I'd have to say the electric teal-and-black bold graphic sweater I got one Christmas that I paired with black Army cargo pants is about as bad as I got. Oh, right, matching electric teal socks, too. Bear in mind, this was the phase of pegged acid-washed jeans with Reebok white leather hightops. But, even by comparison, this is pretty damn awful.

3. Anything from your younger days that you wish you could have back and wear again?

My first favorite t-shirt: 'Keep on Truckin' by R. Crumb. Had it when I was about six (1975) and wore the hell out of it.

Tuesday, March 2

 

The Moderate Fortune of the Irish

Ryan's Daughter finally opened last night at Belvedere Square. We ducked in about seven to sample the fare. Residing in the space of a former Chili's, the atmosphere turnaround is rather impresssive. The bar is carved into smaller 'theme' rooms and alcoves, similar to An Pointin Still, but much more cozy.

The good news: they serve a 20-ounce Guinness at a decent temperature.
The not-so-good-news: the fish and chips seemed a little bland and the burger patty used to live in a freezer.
The bad news: we went too early, so the noisy families were in full-force in our echo-ey nook of the restauant.

So it was not the perfect Irish Pub experience. However, I am willing to try again...

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