Friday Travel: Beantown Report

Let me state for the record that I love visiting Boston. I have done so dozens of times. My earliest memories of this city begin with my dad and uncle schlepping myself and my sister and my cousins to what was my first Red Sox game in...oh, let's say 1985, although it could've been early 1986. It was during the Rey Quinones era (ha!) at shortstop, and he wasn't on the roster come October of '86, so...on second thought, I'm going to say it was early in 1986. Don't ask me why I remember him out of all the players on that team. I was an odd kid.

(I had this card. I used it to make my schwinn sound like a motorbike.)

When you're a wee kid from a small town, a city like Boston seems impossibly large and confusing. At that point in my life, I hadn't even explored all the streets in lower Pawcatuck, so I remember being mildly terrified/exhilirated. TALL BUILDINGS! UNDERGROUND TRAINS! THE WORLD'S LARGEST SOUVENIR SHOP!

Now, coming home from my latest trip to the Hub, I figured I would give you some random observational musings, as is my wont. Here we go.

• If you're looking to meet an englishperson while visiting Boston, I recommend hanging out in the lobby at the John Hancock Conference Center. John Bulls as far as the eye can see. It must be the only hotel in Boston listed in Northern English guidebooks. Which is sad, because it's an awful hotel. But, I met a guy from Newcastle and talked a little footy (he was flying the colors), so bonus points there.

• If you're planning on taking the Amtrak train up to Boston to see the Sox, get off at Back Bay, not South Station. Drops you off in the shadow of the Prudential Building, within a 10-15 minute walk to the park. Of course, i kinda feel like anywhere in Boston is within a 15 minute walk. So I could be wrong.
  

• Boston is rife with urban velocipedes. A lot of great bicycle porn. Not all fixies either--quite a few dutch style cruisers, some really cool old peugeots and even a really nice steel Eddie Merckx frame that I coveted. And this was all in the three block walk between my program and the hotel.

• Striking similarities between Boston and DC? Well, for one thing, both cities are tiny, similar in population and size, and are dwarfed by their surrounding suburbs. And, like the person who lives in Fairfax and describes themselves as a DC resident, Braintree folks will insist that they live in Boston. My two cents: be proud of where you're from--don't be lazy and just glom on to the nearest city just because it's the economic and spiritual center of your world. Or, move into the city and be done with it. You'll like yourself more, even if it IS more expensive.
  

• Boston is like an older woman who suddenly decides that she is going to spend the money and hire the best plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills to perform her facelift. Looking at her after the surgery, you aren't struck by the wrinkles she's lost in the process, but by the ones that remain.
  

Have a great weekend!

Planes vs. Trains vs. Automobiles--Battle Royal!

The northeast corridor of the United States (DC to Boston), you'll be happy to know, is not exactly inaccessible. Currently, it's serviced by 35 airports, 87 Bus terminals, about 70 train stations and routes, and an interstate highway system that is, if nothing else, direct in it's route.
Having traveled over this route many times, using pretty much every conceivable conveyance available except for tramp steamer, I think it's time to weigh the pros and cons each method has on offer. Or, to be blunt, I'm going to try to convince you that the train is they way to go.

I know what you're thinking: "McBanks old boy, there's goes your objectivity." You know what I say to that? Screw objectivity. Here's what the other tour guides won't tell you: objectivity is an illusion. My theory is that people confuse objectivity with apathy. I mean, if you don't give a crap, it's easy to keep an open mind. And who really wants to know what's on the mind of people who don't care? No one. That's who.

So, let's compare the three, shall we? I'll be grading each method of transport on a scale from 1-5, 1 being crap, 5 being awesometown.

Airplanes:
Ability to Stay on Schedule--3.
Especially when flying in the corridor, you can expect some kind of delay. The upside, there are 75 different flights to every major city each day, so...there are options. hurray.

Time it takes to get from door to door--3.5
Flying is by far the fastest method once, you know, you're in the air. But airports tend to be on the outskirts of town, so more often than not you're stuck in a smelly cab trying to get your ass to/from the city center. Fly into LaGuardia sometime and see how long it takes you to actually hit midtown. Guarantee it'll be longer than the flight itself.

Comfort Level of Travel: 3.5.
I mean, YOU'RE IN A CHAIR IN THE SKY, as Louis C.K. would say. And that's pretty neat. Plus, on regional jets they tend to take out the middle seat, which adds to the comfort level. Downside--there has not been a plane designed in which anyone over 5' 11" can sit in without jamming their knees against the goddamn tray table in front. Unless you fly first class. But first class is for fat people and celebrities. so...pass. And you just KNOW the clownbag in front of you is going to ease his chair back that extra 2.5 mm he's entitled to, which is just enough for your patella to detach. Or, it has been my experience that this is so.

Total Points: 10.

Automobile:

(image courtesy of mattiouz.com)

Ability to Stay on Schedule: 2.
Unless you leave at fucking midnight, there is no way in hades you are getting to where you want to go in the time you would like. So, anytime I have to travel while other people are sleeping, I am going to get surly.

Time it takes to get from door to door: 2.
New Jersey aside, the roads are just a crime scene of trucks and bad drivers and toll booths. And if you have to drive through Connecticut for any reason, you can just tack on another 45 minutes to your travel time, because that all state is one big fail when it comes to the highway system. Note to the nutmeg state: you are no longer the backwater you were 50 years ago when the interstate was put in. So add a third lane.

Comfort Level of Travel: 4.5
Riding in your own personal space all while carrying as much stuff as you wish is as close to awesometown as it gets in this category. I mean, unless you're a 1950's era cold war commie, there's something about a road trip that appeals at the basic level. You vs. America, in a no holds barred, fossil fueled grudge match, where only one can prevail. Plus, there's at least a dozen things you'll see on each trip that will inspire. Or gross you out. You lose .5 point if you have to stop for coffee on the NJ Turnpike. It is not good. No, it is not. (shudder).
Total Points: 8.5

TrainsAbility to Stay on Schedule--4.
Unless you hit something, chances are you are going to be within 10 minutes of the posted schedule. Even on the Acela, which does not always enjoy riding through Connecticut. So, it may take you longer than an airplane to get where you're going, but there's alot less uncertainty as to when you'll arrive. Or, at least .5 points worth.

Time it takes to get from door to door: 3.
Okay, even on the Acela you're talking about a 6 hour trip from DC to Boston. But, I guarantee you that it would take you almost twice as long by car. Even in the regular "cattle car" Amtrak, it beats road trippin' by at least an hour. Plus, train stations are located in downtown areas, so getting where you need to go once you disembark is much less of a hassle. So, once again, way to go train. The only real issue is that it cannot go supersonic. Yet. C'mon SUPERTRAIN. HAPPEN IN MY LIFETIME!

Comfort Level of Travel: 4.
Yes, you still have to share space with complete strangers. But my GOD, the legroom! And, the stress level on the train is non-existent. Plus, the Acela has Free Wifi! I'm typing this right now somewhere between New Haven and New London for pete's sake!. Plus, you can bring food and drink from home, and did I mention that Acela has free wifi? And then there's the snack car. Okay, so that's a minus. That place is a wee bit sad. Ketchup packets everywhere.

Total Points: 11.

Well, assuming you care, what do you think? How do you like to travel along the Corridor?

Who Ate All the Pies?

I have a problem with any pastry that comes in a round shape and contains filling. Most people call these confections by their proper name: pies. I call them, "things that do not last more than two days in my house if I am home and can procure a clean-ish fork."

I love pie. There is not a pie I don't like, in fact--Savory or Sweet, it makes no difference to me. Down the chute it goes.

A good slice of pie would be part of my death row meal. What's that? You want to know what would be the rest of my death row meal? Glad you asked. It would include a really good italian cold cut grinder, preferably from The Italian Store in Arlington, VA. To drink, it would be a pint of Guinness, and I would probably like a little macaroni salad on the side, as well as some good sour cream and onion chips. Don't have to worry about my breath when I'm going to take the dirt nap, after all.

(My breath starts to stink just looking at this bag. I do love a good stinky chip though, Lord help me.)

But, the hardest part of putting together this meal, aside from contemplating what I've done to land on death row in the first place, would be to decide which slice of pie I would like to be my very last.

So, without further ado, here's how I would count down my top five choices for death row meal pie. It goes without saying that all of these pies would have been baked by expert pie bakers, on par with the fictional pie maker from "Pushing Daisies."

5) Apple Pie--If it's to be a fall execution, I could do a lot worse for m'self. Maybe a little gruyere baked into the crust to put it over the top? Hell yeah! What are we holding back for?

4) Coconut Cream Pie--The only non-fruit pie to make my top 5. Served really cold, with a little extra coconut on the top. Yes please!

3) Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie--The "YETI" of pies (often talked about, seldom seen). The perfect blend of sweet and tart and sweet. I scour farmers markets in the spring and summer looking for this one, but always come away empty handed. Also doubles as a possible motive for why I'm on death row in the first place, as I would consider pushing someone down a flight of stairs for a freshly made one of these. Here's what it looks like:

(IF Seen, Please contact this Blog for Reward)

2) Pumpkin Pie--An example of everything that is good about pie. Even non-pie eaters confess to enjoying a slice of this "at Thanksgiving". Me? anytime, anywhere is good. I pretty much eat this pie until I run out of whipped cream to finish it off. And if, by some act of God, I happen to have a full can of readi-whip at my disposal? Well, you better have a buffer pie hidden somewhere, because you're not getting any. I've seen 500 so-called gourmet recipes for this pie, but my favorite is still the one on the pumpkin can. On my tombstone it may very well read: "Husband. Dog Owner. Not a Pie Snob."

1) Cherry Pie--I am biased on this one a little bit, as I have just eaten three slices of this particular pie in the last 48 hours. But, for my money, there isn't a better pie. It's good hot or cold, with ice cream or on it's own. Plus, it works so well with any kind of cherry your region may grow. I prefer a sour cherry, just because I like that first hint of tartness followed by sugary goodness. And the cherry tree is more than just a one hit wonder pie factory. I mean, when's the last time you admired a piece of furniture made out of macintosh wood? I rest my case.

(Hmm...do they make a dwarf version I can plant in my front yard?)

Road Trippin'

I came very close to slugging an overzealous Lowe's employee this past weekend while visiting my parents in Connecticut.

Let me back up. As I mentioned on Thursday's post, I am on a mission to create a Garden of Destiny (GOD) in front of our house. A space just teeming with flowers, especially marigolds. And hydrangeas. And some interesting prairie style grass. And some ground cover that gives off the faint whiff of thyme when you step on it. It is my obsession.

I have no idea how to accomplish any of this. However, as Mark Twain would have it: "All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence, and then success is sure."

That quote pretty much sums up all of my home improvement endeavours to date. And in this case, I figure I have enough ignorance to cover three projects, which means that this will triply successful. Right? Moving on...

What a time, then, to visit my parents. This pair of Connecticut Yankees know two things above all others:

1. How to make their children feel loved
2. Curb Appeal
   

So, I brought up my grand design for "Marigold Landing" (working title for the GOD), and they mentioned that plants, especially new plantings, need to be watered every day to ensure survival. I glanced over quickly at the Velogirl as my parents spoke to see if she understood what was being said, and she was most definitely nodding in knowing agreement. Huh.

(My garden brain trust on the banks of the mighty Connecticut River)

Step one was now clear. I needed to buy a remote shutoff for the hose in our front yard, so that I would not have to crawl under the porch each time I want to turn water on and off. It's dirty under there. Plus, there's a 100 percent chance I would eventually need a tetanus shot after putting my hand through an old nail. Yeah, I know...gross, right? That's why I needed the cutoff valve.

So, off to Lowe's we went, the brain trust as my escorts. Once we were all standing there in the middle of the hose and hose accessory aisle (which is larger than you would think--who needs this many hose options? This should all be standardized--different hose WIDTHS? really?), I quickly realized I was in over my head. In walks the helpful Lowe's saleslady I would so nearly take out a restraining order on mere minutes later. I tell her about my quest and my first challenge.

"You don't want that", she says, referring to the valve cut-off I was holding. "Huh?" says I, and as I was uttering this syllable, just like that, she takes the valve out of my hand and throws it back into the pile from which it came.

After five minutes of trying to explain to me why this was in fact, not the course to pursue, this young lady handed the Velogirl a brand new hose with a BUILT-IN cutoff valve. So, instead of a cutoff valve that I could attach to my current hose, I, in fact, needed a new hose with the valve already inside.

I may not know gardening, but I know when I've been looking at two things that do EXACTLY THE SAME FUCKING THING. So, I says to the hose salesperson: "Isn't this the same exact thing as the valve?" What's the difference?" Her answer, which she would repeat to me 11 times, was this:

"No, No No. This hose saves money on water because it has a valve." First of all, lady, a valve is a valve, it seems to me. If one saves me money on water, there's a pretty good bet that an identical valve would do the same thing.

So, I spent the next 6 minutes thanking her for the assistance, just waiting for her to go around the corner, so I could purchase the cheaper option. But she would not leave. Nope. Not until I put the hose in the cart. By this point, the garden brain trust and m'self had spent 15 minutes in the least exciting aisle in Lowe's. So, long story short, I was totally brow-beaten into buying, it must be said, a pretty nifty hose.(The newest jewel in my hose collection. If you look closely at the package you can see that it is proudly made with a space-age polymer called "Heavy Duty Flexogen". You know, because "Medium Gauge Flexogen" would probably buckle under the stress of watering the 8'x8' plot of land I use it for.)

Oh, did I mention the saleslady was deaf? Yeah, she was. I think that's why my subtle inflections in phrasing and tone went unnoticed. Like when I said, "Thank you SO much for all your WONDERFUL fucking assistance", for example. Instead of being offended, she took it as a compliment from someone with turret's syndrome. Talk about meeting me more than halfway.

City Life-Urban Garden Edition

Listen--I know most of those reading this right now are MUCH better at growing things than I. I tend to overwater what likes to live frugally, while neglecting those plants that want water above all things. But, recently I have been dreaming about surrounding myself with a fresh flower garden in the front of the house, and growing fragrant summer veggies in the back. Excuse me, i have to wipe the drool off of my keyboard...there. that's better. And not embarrassing at all.

Basically, I want to grow a vegetable garden in the back, so I can eat my weight in summer squash, while making at least 3 loaves of my grammy's zucchini onion bread so as to make sure to use up all of the latest crop. And in the front, i want to build a nice flower bed in front of the fence, while laying some beautiful ground cover down around the pavers I plan to lay between the main walk and where the garden hose is stored.

Of course, this plan is severely hampered by the following truths:

1. We have a huge magnolia tree hovering over our back patio, making it impossible to grow any vegetables that require sun. To my knowledge, that pretty much eliminates all of them. Unless there is a tasty fern that one of you can turn me on to.
2. I don't have the patience to grow anything that isn't labeled "idiot proof" at the garden center.
3. I really have no idea how to build a raised flower bed.

This last point is one that I plan to overcome. I have been inspired by my recent success from the porch i built (pictures coming soon), so I have convinced my self that a raised bed cannot be more difficult. Plus, it's hard not to covet when there are so many beautiful examples to be found online. Consider:

Or...Or...(My personal Fave)

So, my journey to turn our front yard into an actual garden begins with the building of a raised bed which will be safe from the rampaging WonderDog. Stay tuned--this project should be completed in a few weeks, and my pictures should be 100 times better than those above.

In the meantime, I think I'll go pickle. Got a great recipe from a great website called Smitten Kitchen. So excited to make these, although I have to put them in a locked, refrigerated safe when i'm done. I can't be trusted with pickles. The last time the Velogirl made freezer pickles, I pretty much strapped the Ziploc bag to my face like an old horse and inhaled them. I think I let her smell my breath afterwards, so she could imagine what they would have tasted like. I am not proud of m'self. At least know that much.

Worlds Collide

First off, this is a soccer and Red Sox related post, so if you have no interest in such things, maybe just wait until thursday's update. I promise to talk about the garden plans we have underway, as well as why I can't be trusted at home with freezer pickles...It'll be great, with pictures! See you tomorrow!

So, my Connecticut Yankee sister and her Portuguese born and raised husband live in Lisbon (In their new place to boot!--Congrats guys!). He is a Sporting Lisbon fan, while my sister was born into a family with a healthy obsession with the Red Sox. It was only right that they should take an interest in each others' teams. Which, you'll be glad to know, spread to their families as well.

So, you can imagine the ripple of excitement that shot through the clan when it was discovered that Sporting would be playing Celtic AT FENWAY! HOLY SHIT! What are the odds? (As an aside, this Would NEVER happen in reverse--the Red Sox would never travel to Portugal for spring training--no sir, they'd much rather fly an additional 18 hours to Japan to play a game one day before the regular season...sigh...)

(Here's the old man this past spring. I think he's trying to figure out where to put the bullpens)

This game is scheduled for tonight at 8:00. I tried to get up to beantown, as I have my jersey and scarf washed and ready to wear, and have even been practicing my Portuguese in advance. Okay, i've been practicing my portuguese accent. That language is HARD, yo!

You know what else is hard? It's hard to travel 630 miles round trip on a WEDNESDAY night without a car. For two hours of pre-season euro soccer action. Who SCHEDULED this game? I know, I know--it's a meaningless contest, but if it was happening this Friday--I would have been there, Velogirl in tow, making friends with the Sporting supporters, swapping pastiche recipes, drinking Sagres...sigh. No, i'm not idealizing the experience at all. Not even a little.

(No, you're right--I wouldn't have made any new friends wearing this at tonight's game. Fuck.)

So...the next step is, "Where can I watch with other like minded individuals, preferably in a pro-Sporting setting?". I live in a city with every single major country represented by its embassy, yet the closest Portuguese themed restaurant/bar we have in town is Nando's Peri-Peri. Um... on the face of it, this could work. Peri-Peri pepper WAS well represented at the Continente I visited while in Lisbon, and they do have Sagres...but...no televisions. Eh, it was a stretch to begin with.

(By the way, If I looking for a Celtic bar, this would be no problem, as there are about 500 different places in DC with Celtic fan clubs. But who wants to listen to a drunk Scotsman sing "You'll Never Walk Alone" for 20 minutes if they don't have to? Although, it does sound better when sung with a glasgow accent, I have to admit.)

So, it looks like destination: couchtowne for the match. Eat 'em up Lions, eat 'em up!

I am a dork (Proof Below)

The internet is a blessing and a curse. Mostly, I use it to check baseball scores and watch soccer highlights (blessing). However, once all the baseball boxscores have been digested, and I'm up to date on where Joe Cole will be playing his football next year (good luck you scouse bastard!), I tend to turn my internet searches into witch hunts for 1980's video game emulators and reviews on these games (curse!).

If the internet could be sponsored by a decade, it would be the 1980's. I was reading in a very important internet journal the other day that said 4 out of every 5 movie quotes found on the internet come from 1980's screwball comedies. So, it's not hard to fall down that rabbit hole of 80's extravagance by reading one of about a jillion websites that deal with it. Or in the case of video games, it's easy to get stuck in an 8 bit glory hole. Hmm...has to be a better way to say that. Screw it. It's a blog, not the New York Times.

So, in my travels, I have come across many items/personalities that make me feel inadequate in my 1980's dorkyness, which is an odd feeling. I mean, on the one hand, it's a relief to know that I'm really just a lower case "d" dork when it comes to this stuff, and I'm not destined for a life of hanging out at 1980's themed comic-cons and radio swap meets. On the other hand, what self-respecting dork wants to be outdorked? (Looking Around...) You're damn right: nobody. Conflicted. So very conflicted.

Here are a few examples:

• Someone STILL Owns Their 1981 Sears Super Video Arcade, and has taken a picture of it. Our family owned this. It played Intellivsion games. I learned how to gamble thanks to the game this console came with. It was titled: "Las Vegas Poker and Blackjack". I was 6. Moving on...

(HOLY SHIT! I want this thing back in my arms, so I can play Space Spartans)

• The AVGN. Mostly, this guy makes me feel better about some of the crappy games I used to own. I used to think it was my fault I couldn't figure out what the fuck Milon's Secret Castle was all about.

• The NES ModNation. So many great examples out there of guys and gals that have "repurposed" the classic Nintendo Enternainment System. Here are two of the very best:

It's called a Nintoaster. This one brilliant guy crammed the guts of an NES into a toaster chassis. When you push the lever down, the game turns on. He has an instructional video on his site on how to do it yourself: www.stupidfingers.com. Pure. Dorky. Genius.

And finally:It's a mouse inspired by the classic Nintendo controller. Bravo!

Country Mouse

After a fantastic weekend in which the Velogirl and I were able to enjoy boating, docking, strolling around a beautiful seaside town with awesome friends, riding beach cruiser bicycles with baskets (hella-awesome!), souvenir shopping, Oyster eating, and spicy pickled item sampling, I have been thinking about what kind of life one could have in a remote seaside town on the eastern shore. Specifically, I have tried to picture myself outside of the city limits, and how that would all work.

(I wonder what it would be like to carry flowers (or OYSTERS?) on my bike instead of a U-lock and Mace?)

Let's be clear: I'm not talking about a 'burban life. I'm talking about a remote-ish place somewhere near the water where, when describing where I live, I would first need to give the county name, so you could triangulate the part of the wilderness I'm talking about. A place where location is related by how many minutes it takes to drive to the closest town you MAY have heard of.

I grew up this way. My hometown is Pawcatuck, CT. New London County, about 10 minutes east of Mystic, CT, 40 minutes south of Providence, RI, on the border of Rhode Island. As a kid, the main drag of downtown consisted of a Bess Eaton coffee shop, a taxidermist, a drug store, an office product store, and a dairy queen. End of list. Oh, there was also"New England Tire and Wheel", so I guess not end of list. It closed in 1988. It has been 22 years, and still no replacement has come. The brave citizens of Pawcatuck are now forced to drive to (GASP!) Westerly to buy tires at Wal-Mart.

(To this day, I try not to spend a dime across the river if I can help it. In my mind, every penny spent in Westerly that strengthens their economy and bolsters their population, also ensures they will field a better better high school football team. All died-in-the-wool Pawcatuck residents will tell you that aiding the Westerly Bulldogs in any way is tantamount to giving guns to terrorists. Just saying.)

So, I have experience with the type of town I was in this past weekend. It was all just one big pile of adorable. The only way it could have been cuter is if the cute seaside homes were made out of living, wiggling, puppies. Vistas of the harbor, seaside restaurants, fresh seafood...just an amazing place to visit.

But to live? Hmm...there's the rub. As much as I would love to wake up every morning, look out onto the water and spy my 32 foot Sloop at the end of my private dock while the Velogirl pours me a cup of coffee at our breakfast table on our screened in porch...well, actually that would be amazing. The downside of seaside country living is that I think I would go batshit crazy. Scratch that, I pretty much can guarantee it.

There's an energy to city life that, as of right now, I'm still addicted to. It's the energy that can only come from nervous uncertainty, of the thrill of diversity, from the quirkyness of city neighborhoods. I like knowing that ANY band I would ever want to see is no more than a 10 minute bike ride away when they come to town. I also like walking someplace and not having to worry about running out of sidewalk. Or having a bicycle path end in a drainage ditch on the side of the road instead of, you know, connecting to something.

So, I guess I'm still a city mouse. Although part of me wishes I wasn't.

I Would Rather...

It's Friday, and I'm sure you all have better things to do than read all about what an awesome weekend the Velogirl and I have lined up (and we do, we SO do), so I will keep this post short, so you can get on with your afternoon. But, allow me to briefly touch on one subject: We had a mutha effin' EARTHQUAKE here in DC this morning! I'm sorry, but earthquakes are so scary to me.

I can deal with hurricanes and tornadoes, sure. In both cases, the path is pretty clear. Tornado--get in the basement. For a hurricane--get to the nearest school on the highest ground. Or, use a blender, if you like drinking something that will bring on type II diabetes alot quicker than any buzz you may get from the alcohol. Not a fan. too sweet. You see what i'm saying.

WHERE THE HELL DO YOU GO WHEN THE GROUND IS MOVING? And if someone even says, "door jamb"...(rolls eyes)...Look. I live in an 102 year old house with 102 year old, termite ridden, degraded to 'ell beams. I'm afraid to stand in door jambs when the earth trolls AREN'T moving their furniture, so you can just tell that story walking pal.

Moving on.

So as to get your brain into weekend mode, here are a few "would you rather" scenarios I've been thinking about lately. By the way, 'would you rather' is the BEST icebreaking game at parties I've ever witnessed in action. Or, at least, the dorky parties I get invited to. So, if you're dorky like me, you can really break the ice with other cerebral dork-types, who like to consider both sides of the coin.

And, this game was featured in "so i married an ax murderer", which in my mind gives it instant street cred. Or at least, the kind of dorky house party/fog city diner cred I crave.

Moving on.

WOULD YOU RATHER:

Ride your bicycle wearing flip flops or with untied shoelaces?

Be Deaf or Blind?

Own a sailboat or a yacht?

Only play one videogame for the rest of your life: The Legend of Zelda or Tetris?

Be able to swim, or be able to fluently speak another language?

Be eaten by a bear or a shark?

Be a world class pastry/baker type chef or a world class chef type chef?

Have a great weekend!

City Life--Thursday Edition

As everyone knows, one of the best things about living in the city is the amount of really talented musicians, artists, and just general creative types in a relatively confined area. Or, if you didn't know that, you know it now, so don't play dumb with me.

What does this talent glut mean for the average city dweller like m'self? Basically, it means that there is something to see, to hear, and to experience every day of the year. Which would be all well and fine by itself. Add to that the fact that many of these activities are outdoor and absolutely FREE of charge, and you start to see why I love this town. It almost makes up for the rats. Almost. (Shudder)

My pick of the litter? Outdoor concerts. Why, tonight, there is a show happening at Ft. Reno here in DC. Ft. Reno is not only a park(DUH!), but also the site of the famous annual concert series in DC. Especially famous if you've ever been into any DC hardcore/post-hardcore bands. Ask your average DC concert veteran, and, when asked about Ft. Reno, they will probably answer with some version of this sentence: "I saw Fugazi there back in..."

But, although the DC music scene has evolved beyond those days, it's still nice to see there's a place for up and coming bands to showcase. If you're going tonight, (and you should--did I mention it was FREE?), be sure to get there early so you can catch the first band: Hiding Places. I wouldn't mention them if they weren't good, so make it a priority.

Hope all is well with your and yours. Hope to see you out there tonight.

The Drought is Over

Well, the weather here in DC has gone from Sahara to Pacific Northwest in a span of three days. Most immediate impact? Computer fan is not running 18 hours a day, trying in vain to keep the CPU under 280 degrees Celsius. As an added bonus, mother nature has bailed my ass out by watering the plants in front of the house. I had neglected them during the heatwave, with nearly disastrous results. If there was a botanist version of Child Services, or even an ASPCA type org, the butterfly bush would most likely have been confiscated and planted in front of a foster home. Talk about egg on face.

(Daddy is not angry with you, just really, really lazy. Although, where are the butterflies you promised? Don't make me put a tarp over you so you don't get any rainwater. See what you made me say? Why do you always make me the bad guy?)

But, it's not all Mommy Dearest out there-- why just LOOK at these flowers that line the walk up to the porch:

(Pretty!)

Speaking of droughts being over, the NL beat the AL in the all-star game last night. Yay. I am just relieved that no Red Sox were injured during the opening ceremony, or in the case of Big Papi and Lester, during the actual game itself. It's gotten to the point that I'm frightened to tell people I'm a Sox fan, for fear that my ACL will tear in twain at the mere mention of my allegiance.

There's a voodoo doll to blame for all this. I have hired a 1940's era, sepia toned private investigator photograph to...well, investigate. Then again, maybe he's just a Humphrey Bogart impersonator-- either way, pretty good job by me to get this cat to take the case. High trousers, trenchcoats, and Stetsons put informants at ease, it's a scientific fact.

(Admit it, you want to tell this guy your innermost secrets while drinking rye, and maybe introduce him to a femme fatale.)

I'll be sure to let you all know when there is a break in the case.

The weekend is around the corner. Can you feel it? MAKE SOME NOISE!

Cleaning House--At Least I Get to Keep the Change I Find

Well, the mattress siege has been lifted by the DC government, and our alley has been cleared of all industrial debris. Although, a dark cloud still hangs over the private homes who use this alley, as it is clear that the mattress factory next door has not stepped back production, as evidenced from this picture taken this morning:

(If you need a mattress/boxspring combo, come by the Alley in about two days...these babies are sure to be there)

Sure, I could worry about how i'm going to take my trash out on Thursday--but, I can't live in the future. The DC government's swift action to rid our public spaces of the 'pillowtop menace' has inspired me to follow suit and do a little summer cleaning of TIACAICTG Studios. I have to admit, cleaning is not exactly my idea of a good time. I am more of a straightener than a cleaner, which means I will shuffle papers neatly, then place them back on a dirty table. Or, i will move the couch so that it covers a gravy stain on the rug. My motto: Out of sight, out of...what's that SMELL?

However, in the past few weeks--Reba the VeloGal, Atticus the Wonderdog, the Owenmonster, and Mom the...well Mom, have all done their part to inspire me towards a better cleaning record. So, although I have worked very hard to surround myself with loved ones who are much better than I at spotting where that glob of mustard landed, it seems that I should probably figure out what fabreeze can and cannot save. (i'm looking at you, red sox hat!)

(My camera did not capture the "stink lines" coming from the brim, but trust me, they can be seen with the naked eye)

And, lest you think I can go an entire post without touching on something World Cup related, I leave you with Mesut Ozil auditioning to be the spokesperson for the new "jabulani" flavor of Orbitz gum:

(Wow? or Ew? You decide.)

The Monday List(s)

Mondays are take stock days. Days to make lists of things that need to get done, and to figure out where the hell the weekend went. Personally, I am more productive on Monday then every other day of the week combined. Mostly because of the fact that once I realize all of the shit I have to take care of, it scares me into action. By Thursday, I'm wondering what all the fuss was over.

Because I'm in the mood, I figured I'd just turn this post into one random-ass, bullet-point filled, ultimately pointless blog post. But, getting it all down makes me feel better. And, besides, finding new ways massage my fragile ego is the only reason I wake up in the morning. And no, I'm not kidding.

List of Six Random Things I'm Thinking About, In No Particular Order

• For me, the top 5 NES games of all time are: Zelda, PunchOut, SMB, Castlevania, and TecmoBowl.
• I would really like to learn how to sail before I break my first hip.
  
• I wish I knew how to fish without hooking myself at least once. That shit stings.
  
• My perfect back patio sanctuary would look something like THIS from above. Now all I have to do is build it.
• If I could have dinner with anyone alive today, it would be NotReba!. Just kidding.
• I had a really nice anniversary this weekend.
  

List of Bicycle Related Odds/Ends

• Lance craps the bed at the Tour de France --Old man Lance can't seem to stay on his bike this year--just proves that the older one gets, the more one becomes gravity's bitch. He will now ride in support of Levi Leipheimer, the only professional cyclist I've ever shaken hands with. Seemed a nice chap, though he did manage to misspell 'bicyclists' on the poster I had him sign. So, I wish him luck in more ways than one.
  
  
• The 10th annual Bicycle Film Festival starts this week in DC--Always a few decent offerings if you're of the mind. Bonus: If you want to feel like the largest mammal on earth, go hang out at a bicycle film festival. It's a wispy, noodle armed crowd, to say the least. I think that's why 98% of the fixed gear folks carry their U-lock in their back pocket, so they won't float away. Or, maybe I bristle at any gathering where I'm referred to as a "Clydesdale". This is why cyclists develop eating disorders.
  
  
• REBA GOT PULLED OVER BY THE COPS. ON HER BIKE. --Yup, you heard me, the UrbanVelo grrrl! that is my better half managed to catch the attention of the fuzz this past weekend, by flaunting the rules society has laid out. And, by running a red light, without wearing a helmet. Which I have done at least 9 bazillion times. Naked. The good news? She was able to flirt her way into a warning. Attagirl! A good thing too, because the fine for running a red light on a bicycle (helmet or no) is 5 (FIVE) American dollars. That's like, 6/8ths of the price of chipotle burrito. Bullet dodged. The officer also managed to misspell 'bicyclist' on the ticket, opting for 'bicycalist' instead. Is it just me, or is that not a hard word to get right?

Friday Heat!

Before I get going, let me just say that LeBron going to Miami is kinda...anti-climactic. I don't watch more than 8 quarters of NBA basketball in any given year, but the guy should have just stayed in Cleveland, or gone to New York. He had a real chance to pull a Steven Gerrard, and reward Cleveland the way that Gerrard rewarded Liverpool. Now, he kinda looks like a selfish douche to me. New York, I think everyone would have understood--it's NEW YORK! Anyways...

(My God, I mean...that's a wee bit over the top, no?)

It has been too effing hot this week. Like, unfair, scorched earth, 110% humidity, sticky, pick-a-fight-with-your-best-gal-because-it's-too-hot-to-think-rationally...hot. Here at TIACAICTG headquarters, the entire family has abandoned the second floor of the house, as our A/C unit is a diva and doesn't feel like cooling the entire structure. This means that we have broken out the trusty aerobed and turned our home into a studio apartment. Until, last night, the aerobed could take it no longer, and deflated while we slept, the latest casualty of this non-stop heatwave that threatens man, beast, and inflatable mattress. The entire situation could be summed up in this 4 second soundclip: FAREWELL AEROBED!

Through all of this, I have still maintained my residence in my upstairs office during the day, which means that I literally pour my sweat into everything I type. ew. sorry about that. moving on...

WORLD CUP FINAL, Y'ALL! Spain. Netherlands. SUNDAY, SUNDAY, SUNDAY! I know, after my bold (and so nearly correct) prediction on the Netherlands v. Uruguay game, you're all wondering how I see this game unfolding. Well, let me fire up the ole "amateur soccer analysis" machine, which I have built myself for just such an occasion, using vacuum tubes, potentiometers, resistors, and many other parts of a guitar amplifier I can name off the top of my head. Oh yeah, it also has a 12" speaker cone and a 1/4" jack for some reason. I used to store it in my office, but i have had to since relocate it to the basement, as the motherboard is in danger of frying in temps excess of 115 degrees.

Spain will look to, once again, control the midfield, hog possession, and put the ball at David Villa's feet within 25 yards of goal. You figure, especially the way the Dutch are prone to periods of disinterest, shall we say? that Spain will almost certainly get on the board first...let's go with Xabi Alonso finally connecting on a screamer from the D. So, 1-0 Spain at half. The second half, I think the Dutch will be able to put together an attack that will result in Arjen Robben making something out of nothing, and maybe even forcing a mistake from Casillas. 1-1 at around the 65th minute.

Then, I think there will be heroics, and Sneijder will once again be the man involved. Let's say he right foots it past Iker for a 84th minute, World Cup winner! 2-1 to the Dutch! And the Afrikaners will STORM the pitch! Look at those happy orange painted faces!

Or, maybe not. It's hard to think straight right now. If you'll excuse me, i'm going to stick my head in the freezer. Have a great weekend!

Thursday's Feature: City Life

As a work-from-home type person, I often feel like I don't get enough of a chance to really experience DC as often as I would like. Sometimes, this can be a blessing, like when a used cooking oil truck leaks all over 14th street during the hottest day of the year, closing down the area and giving it an air of stale fried foods. and vomit, apparently.

So, I may have dodged a bullet by not experiencing that.

Of course, most of the time I don't have to leave the block to get a little taste. Example, you ask? I'll give you two. The first involves my next door neighbors and their love/hate relationship with mattresses. In the 18 months I have lived here, our fair neighbors have discarded approximately 345 mattresses/boxspring combinations. And for once, I don't think I am prone to hyperbole.

You see, first, they stack them up on their back patio, then, at night, they transfer them to the alley behind their house, which clogs the alley and doesn't allow the city to make the weekly trash pickup. Which forces their neighbors to call the city and have someone remove them. The highwater point of these shenanigans came yesterday. As I was finishing up my daily loop with the Wonder Dog, I noticed that not only were there four mattresses in the alley, but the folks also decided to stack a couple of box springs on their front porch. Yeah, I called the city to have them removed, as it was my turn in the neighbor rotation to do so (the rest of us have taken to writing the schedule on a white board that we hang on a street lamp so as to eliminate duplicate phone calls).

I think that they must manufacture mattresses in the house. There is no other explanation that supports the physical evidence. I am not aware of any national "Homespun Mattress Manufacturers Association", or else I would report them and have their membership put under review. And, in case you think this is just a DC cottage industry, read this brave soul's report from deep in the heart of Texas: Undercover Investigation: Houston Heights Mattress Addicts.

Not sure if that makes me feel better or not.

I promised a second example, didn't I? Let me take you in the George Michael Sports Machine back to DC yesterday. During halftime of the Spain/Germany match, there was a knock at the door. There stood a guy with a cooler. "Good afternoon, sir," said the man, "I'm with a local meat company, and we have a surplus of meat after the July 4th holiday. Would you like to purchase some steak?".

I looked out towards our street, hoping to spy a truck with a reputable steak/meat company logo on it, but could not see one. Nope: it's official: this guy was carrying steaks in a cooler door-to-door. I know, there are lots of people who would have been like, "SCORE! Cheap meat!" I am not one of these people. I kindly refused his generous offer, and like that, he picked up his cooler and moved to my neighbors house, where he proceeded to set his cooler down on one of their box springs. You can't make this shit up.

A Bicyclists' Dilemma

As I'm sitting here watching the 97th Tour de France, it's hard not to think about all things cycling. Ask anyone I know, and they'll tell you that I will mention something about my bicycle or bicycling in general at least once every 90 minutes. Make no mistake, I am not going to be quitting my job to join the peloton anytime soon, as I a consider m'self more of a bicyclist than a cyclist. What's the difference you ask? Here's my arbitrary division, sure to anger cyclists and bicyclists alike.

Cyclists:

(Courtesy of Marion Webster)

• Avoid urban cycling, as stop signs and lights do not usually allow them to maintain their optimal cadence
  
• Tend to rock head to toe spandex in an effort to reduce wind resistance, and, it must be said, ride really awesome looking, light, expensive bicycles.
  
• Are not particularly interested in rides less than 15 miles, nor do they have any interest stopping at Dunkin' Donuts at the halfway point of the ride. (BOO!)
  
• Wear Carbon Fiber, heat molded helmets that match their 'kit'.

Bicyclists, on the other hand:

(Courtesy of BikeHugger.com)

• Usually embrace urban cycling, as running lights and stop signs are strangely empowering.
  
• Tend to rock whatever clothes they wish to wear when they arrive at the destination they are bicycling to.
• Talk about 15 mile rides as being 'epic'.
• May or may not wear a helmet.

It is this last point, of choosing NOT to wear a helmet, that is the lighting rod for controversy, amongst cyclists and bicyclists alike. Why, just yesterday my bicyclist better half sent me this article: Do Bike Helmets Save Lives? Or Do they Hurt Cycling?. Seems to me that the argument FOR wearing a helmet goes like this:

• Bicycling is dangerous, so when you get hit by a car, you are 70% more likely to suffer head trauma without a helmet.
• When you fall on your head, you are going to thank your lucky stars that you were wearing a helmet.

While the argument AGAINST wearing a helmet goes like this:

• Wearing a helmet sends the message that bicycling is dangerous, which scares away potential riders. Besides, bicycling is much, much safer than driving a car.
  
• If you ride without a helmet, you'll take less risks and ride safer, and cars will tend to give you more slack as well. (HA!)
  
• Helmets mess up your hair.
  

I will go on record in saying that I do not always wear a helmet when I tool around town. Why? Because I feel much safer on a bicycle than I ever do in a car, even in one of those Swedish models with the side impact airbags and such. It just doesn't occur to me that riding my bicycle is even the slightest bit dangerous.

Of course, this is probably because I have never been thrown clear of my bicycle by a car, or a pothole, or a mechanical failure. In short: I have no doubt that wearing a helmet is the right thing to do, and I intend to wear one more often. I still don't approve of the message wearing one sends, however.

A Man at Leisure Has Too Much Time to Think (Proof Below)

After a weekend of exceedingly fun leisure activities, in which I was able to bike, picnic, boat, swim, eat smoked pork shoulder with carolina sauce, boat again, swim again, and squeeze m'self into a raft affectionately known as 'the taco', my mind is programmed to think about the more leisurely pursuits in life. Like sporting contests and the like. If only there was a world soccer tournament going on right now to analyze, or the annual baseball all-star game controversy to touch on.

This moment, right now, is when I realized that I'm the luckiest person in the world. Take a picture.

First, to my amateur, half-baked world cup analysis. Today we have the Netherlands v. Uruguay in the first semi-final. Uruguay was awfully lucky to escape Ghana. The Dutch on the other hand, should be brimming with confidence after their famous win over Brazil. Hmm...

Yeah, it's not a stretch to say that the Netherlands are favored, and one look at their midfield, you can see why: Robben is back, Sneijder is the playmaker Real Madrid hoped they were getting before they shipped him off to Inter, and Van de Vaart is...well, he has been playing well too. A few more balls into the box would be nice.

Uruguay, on the other hand, feature no superstars in their midfield, but their strike partnership of Suarez and Diego Forlan, combined with a very stingy defensive shape, has been enough to get them this far. Of course, today, Suarez is not playing due to a suspension. Ouch...that is going to leave a mark.

My prediction:, I just think that the Dutch will simply have too much possession in the second half, eventually wear down Uruguay and run away with this one, 3-1. One prediction further? Let's see...the Dutch goals will be scored by Robben (2), and Kuyt, while Forlan will find a way to get on the score sheet and give his many female fans a chance to cheer him one last time at this World Cup:

(Um...yeah...he must workout or something)

TO BASEBALL (Quickly!)

The annual all-star game selections have come out, leading to the inevitable arguments (and 142 ESPN articles) about who should and should not have made the team. For some reason, I get irrationally fired up about this subject. Here, in no particular order of ranting topic, are my thoughts on the 2010 all-star game:

• The good: the fans did a pretty decent job of picking the starters in the American League this year: Not too many arguments, although I have a feeling that the fans did luck out with voting on Vlad, who is having a great season.

• Jason Heyward is not an all-star game starting right fielder. Sorry ATL, but he is not the next pre-HGH Barry Bonds. Yet.
  

• In cases where one player is chosen to be the only representative of their club at the all star game, the decision should be made by their current manager of who to send, not the manager of the all star team itself. This would prevent situations where Ty Wiggington gets chosen over Nick Markakis to represent the Orioles. It just isn't right. Worse, it makes the Orioles REALLY look like a bunch of bushers to fans who never, ever see the Orioles play. "Really? that's the best the O's have? Huh."
  

• This game SHOULD NOT COUNT, and should CARRY NO WEIGHT over who has home field advantage in the all star game.

This last point gets me the angriest. I watched the tie all-star game that led to all this nonsense. Was I the only one that didn't have a problem with an exhibition game ending in a tie? That was a really entertaining game to watch (remember Bonds picking up Torii Hunter after Hunter robbed him of a homerun? That was a great moment, one we'll never see again because now the game counts and players have to take this game seriously.)

I don't want these teams to have to be set up strategically with 5 relievers so that an opposing manager can take the bat out of the hands of Josh Hamilton in the 5th inning. BOO!

Most of all, this means that the managers have to make their reserve team selections based on strategic decisions that might come up in a real game, like moving the runner over with a bunt or pinch running. Do you wanna watch a game full of supposed all-stars hitting groundballs to the right side to get the runner over to third, or do you wanna see a two-run homer? I know what I would answer.

This type of selection process leaves less room for say, a Nick Markakis or Brennan Boesch or Joey Votto or David DeJesus or Ryan Zimmerman to make the teams over...oh, I don't know...Omar Infante? I mean, I KNOW he's a great chess player...but...

Well, I think it's time I actually did some real work. This leisure thing, while awesome, may not be the healthiest thing for me brain in the long run.

Light a Cherry Bomb for Washington DC

July 4th marks the beginning of summer. This weekend means BBQ's, Potato Salad, some sort of berry pie/cake topped with a creamy whipped substance, getting playfully shot with the hose, and sunburn will be in abundance between now and Labor Day. It also means a countless number of mannequins will be senselessly maimed by the CPSC to demonstrate what everyone already knows: fireworks are dangerous, especially to inanimate objects:

I grew up in a house that valued 'safe and sane' over 'dumb and dangerous', so my experience with fireworks has been limited to the ones that, if grossly mishandled, would only blow off one finger, not the whole hand. Where's the fun in that, I ask you?

Speaking of dumb and dangerous, now that the DC area election cycle is in full swing, there has been a lot of talk about DC getting an actual voting representative in Congress, mostly by folks who oppose it, oddly enough. Why, here's an interview that DCist posted yesterday with a candidate in Virginia, who offers a great solution for DC citizens who want a voice in our national legislature:


Just move. Genius, if not for it's idiocy.

Here's the thing that burns me: everyone knows what the sticky wicket is in this issue: Republicans will always oppose DC voting rights , simply because it will always be a Democratic seat. And, to be fair, DC is not going to elect a moderate. We'd be sending another Bernie Sanders. Which would be awesome, if you ask me

The opponents wrap themselves in a strict interpretation of the constitution, stating that the constitution only allows people to be elected by "the several, states". Of course, the constitution also states that federal taxes should only be levied by "the several, states", and, I can assure you, we pay federal taxes.

And, many of these opponents are the same folks that loosely interpret the second amendment (militia v. individual rights), so a little consistency would be nice.
My opinion? There is no logical argument to be made against DC having a voting member. If it takes statehood to do it, so much the better. Consider these two facts:

• The population of DC (599, 657) is greater than Wyoming (544,270). Yet Wyoming gets two senators. Huh?
  
• DC pays over 2 billion dollars in federal taxes each year, yet do not have a say in how it is spent. Didn't we fight a war over a similar type sitch in the 18th century?

Anyways, I didn't mean to be the turd in the political punchbowl. Enjoy your weekend, and eat a few dozen hotdogs for me! USA! USA!

P.S. Way to go HOLLAND! Finals could be in the cards!

Internet + Musical Numbers=Magic

Lately, I have noticed that approximately 97% of the internet not already devoted to...um...nakedness, has been re-calibrated to entertain the surfing masses with an original tune or two. My first clue to this phenomenon was when I recently stumbled across the internet sensation of 2008: Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog. And yes, I know it's now halfway through 2011 or something, so don't even bother mentioning how awfully slow I am on the uptake.

This led me down a rabbit's hole. Next was the The Guild, which led me to The Legend of Neil, which led me to...well insomnia. But, with fairly catchy music in my head to keep me company at least.

After a 14 hour recovery 'nap', I decided to break away from the Dr. Horrible spiral search and try to find the best example from the 13 million other offerings on the american web. This is when I stumbled across this little thing by the brilliant Gregory Brothers: Pure Poppycock.

HOLY CRAP! So. effing. brilliant. They have about a dozen auto-tune the news episodes, including a few that are more recent. Do yourself a favor, just watch them all. Then watch this (props to Disarmingly Fresh for pulling this out of the web chasm)