Childhood past

I read a comment from an earlier post from anonymous, and anon got me reminiscing. Anon mentioned that road trip beatings have probably ceased because of all the multimedia options available in cars today, and I bet that's true. So i had to recollect about the roadtrip fun my brother and I had as youngsters.

I am 2 years and 7 months older than my brother. That being said, he just bought a house (in the Heather Ridge subdivision, aw) and has been married for more than a year. He also has a masters degree. While I will be paying off groceries from my Jersey City days in 2000 before I can even think of purchasing anything bigger than a new pair of boots, this kid has hit shit together. Perhaps my beatings inspired him to strive. (side note: that atomic wedgie when he was 8 also might have).

Back to the road trips...when we were wee ones, we lived in upstate New York, Rochester to be exact. Our entire extended family lived near Detroit, MI. So from 1983-1986, every Christmas holiday we would drive the 6 hours through Canada to visit the family in Detroit (side note: that Ambassador Bridge still scares the bejesus out of me). My parents purchased us a red, portable Texas Instruments tape recorder and off we went with our tapes of "Cabbage Patch Kids" and the soundtrack to the musical "Annie," and kids singer Raffi. And after our first trip to Michigan, with only one pee break courtesy of my dad and Father Time, my parents decided they had to put the cooler between my brother and I, since I just couldn't keep my tiny fists off him. I was one little biyatch.

I don't really remember all the details of every car trip, but there's a vague sense of my poor harried mother trying not to lose her shit, cooped in a station wagon for 6 hours, trying to keep 2 kids from killing each other in the back seat. I remember her half turned for almost the whole ride, trying to separate us and shut us up. Annie and Raffi and Cabbage Patch Kids helped. One year, I even got to sit in the front because I was such a brat. So you know damn well I will be blessed with kids even worse.

Ah, those car trips I will always remember. And I'm sad that kids today are too distracted with Disney DVD's to listen to cheesy tapes, or to pound their brother, or to drive their parents crazy in the front seat. For all the times we probably drove each other nuts, we still always remember.

Chuck Norris is a bad motherfucker

These were just too funny to pass up posting, although they are not my personal comments. I just thought all you readers might like a little fun on the Wednesday of the longest week ever (although Chuck Norris would have kicked this day into Friday if he could - that was mine).
More posts to come soon, I have been quite busy between my job and very busy social calendar (ha). My favorites are highlighted below.

Chuck Norris does not hunt because the word hunting infers the probability of failure. Chuck Norris goes killing.

To prove it isn't that big of a deal to beat cancer, Chuck Norris smoked 15 cartons of cigarettes a day for 2 years and acquired 7 different kinds of cancer only to rid them from his body by flexing for 30 minutes. Beat that, Lance Armstrong.

Chuck Norris counted to infinity - twice.

When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.

A blind man once stepped on Chuck Norris' shoe. Chuck replied, "Don't you know who I am? I'm Chuck Norris!" The mere mention of his name cured this man blindness. Sadly the first, last, and
only thing this man ever saw, was a fatal roundhouse delivered by Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris ordered a Big Mac at Burger King, and got one.

When Chuck Norris sends in his taxes, he sends blank forms and includes only a picture of himself, crouched and ready to attack. Chuck Norris has not had to pay taxes ever.

Chuck Norris can touch MC Hammer.

Chuck Norris once ate three 72 oz. steaks in one hour. He spent the first 45 minutes having sex with his waitress.

Chuck Norris sleeps with a night light. Not because Chuck Norris is afraid of the dark, but the dark is afraid of Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris likes to knit sweaters in his free time. And by "knit", I mean "kick", and by "sweaters", I mean "babies".

As a teen Chuck Norris impregnated every nun in a convent tucked away in the hills of Tuscany. Nine months later the nuns gave birth to the 1972 Miami Dolphins, the only undefeated and untied team in professional football history.

A Handicap parking sign does not signify that this spot is for handicapped people. It is actually in fact a warning, that the spot belongs to Chuck Norris and that you will be handicapped
if you park there.

Chuck Norris is 1/8th Cherokee. This has nothing to do with ancestry, the man ate a fucking Indian.

Someone once tried to tell Chuck Norris that roundhouse kicks aren't the best way to kick someone. This has been recorded by historians as the worst mistake anyone has ever made.

If Chuck Norris is late, time better slow the fuck down.

Chuck Norris lost his virginity before his dad did.

Chuck Norris died ten years ago, but the Grim Reaper can't get up the courage to tell him.

At birth, Chuck Norris came out feet first so he could roundhouse kick the doctor in the face. Nobody delivers Chuck Norris but Chuck Norris.

Bizarro world

So I find Tooly McTool on the train yesterday - I have to squeeze past his leisurely lean against the middle pole on a 1 train because HE IS WATCHING HIS PORTABLE DVD PLAYER. With the evil rays shooting from my eyes directed at him, you'd at least think his neck would get hot and he'd turn to see who was glaring, but no. He kept right on hogging his space on a RUSH HOUR train and laughing at Seinfeld. Um, buddy, it's not new. You own it. Wait until you get home. Or buy a portable iPod - you can watch movies and stuff on there now too. I wanted someone to bump into him so he'd drop his dumb DVD player. I mean, what is wrong with people?

The other delightful person I saw yesterday was a pregnant woman - about 7 months or so - boarding the bus with a 20 oz Pepsi. Not diet, not caffeine free. Wow, she is all about the fetal health. And we wonder why kids are diagnosed with ADHD. One should really be required to be licensed to give birth - seriously.

Haven't written a rant post in a while, but I figured it was time because there are just so many idiots, especially in NY on public transportation. Also, I never even took the time to bitch about the whole James Frey debacle, so you all saved an ear/eyeful on that one (unless you have actually spoken with me recently, in which case, i'm sorry you were not spared).

The quest for perfect nachos - Part 1

So this being the start of a new year, I felt it time to really hunker down and find the perfect nachos in Manhattan. I must admit, I'd slacked a bit - for lack of funds, for want of weight loss, for sheer laziness. But no more...I am taking my challenge to a whole new level of nachoness.

What prompted me to really take this on? Well, on Monday evening, after helping my boyfriend with a nearly insurmountable mound of laundry, we decided to treat ourselves to some grub. Our general fault with the upper west side (where he lives) is a lack of decent, cheap eats that aren't diner-fare. We decided to hit Firehouse, a bar/restaurant that I've visited several times in the past and have always had luck with (their quesadilla with mole sauce is quite good).

The nachos were near ideal. The layering was perfectly intact here - 2 very distinct separate layers of cheese, spread very evenly over the tri-color chips. A nice spread of salsa and sour cream on top as well, not plopped on either side of the mound. Although they did drop a notch because the salsa and sour cream layers were thin - so the lower cheesy layer was a bit dry.

But, I decided the next time that I would just order an extra side of salsa and I think that minor problem would be alleviated. I give Firehouse Nachos an 8 out of 10. They're at the top of my list so far. (http://newyork.citysearch.com/profile/7169111/)

I will also mention we had "Deep Dish Nachos" at Westside Brewing Co. last week - that was a first try and I was pretty impressed, although they spent a few extra minutes in the oven, because the top layer was a bit too crisp, with a little burn taste. However, the cheese again was nicely layered, although the glops of sour cream and guac on either side left something to be desired, and the bowl of thin salsa was not quite up to par (especially since the salsa should go on top, not to be dunked on the side). I give Westside Brewing Co. a 6.5. (http://newyork.citysearch.com/profile/7169123/)

To join other nacho fans, check out http://enjoynachos.com/ and http://www.nachosrule.com/

The roses really smell like poo-oo-oo

Well, Rockstar is right. Cadbury Mini-Eggs are my absolute favorite holiday candy. And I saw them at CVS yesterday. Oh yes, they will be mine.


On a completely unrelated note, this past weekend, someone in my building (I can basically pinpoint it to the 2nd floor) decided it would be a good idea to Manhattan dumpster-dive for the foulest fish they could find, and then cook it with some stank-ass spices. I seriously thought something had died in my apartment. The day before, I put some fresh poison out for the mousie that thought pooping on my counters was his sole purpose in life, so I went searching under every crevice for a konked mouse. (Related note: said mouse was found stuck to an old glue trap under my stove yesterday. There was no struggle, so I believe the poison got him first, and he was trying to counteract the poison by trying to pry one of the peanuts from the trap. Note to mice: I don't play, I make you go away.)

But I couldn't find anything in my apt. where the stank would be coming from. Then my boyfriend tells me I should open the door to see if it was actually cooking from in the building...for some reason, this thought had not occurred to me. The minute the door opened, the stench flew in like some stank-poltergeist.

We left soon after that, and dryheaved on the 4 flights down until fresh air. The thing that really scares me is that someone ate the stank. That just couldn't have been good. It reminds me of one of my first roommates when I moved to Hoboken, NJ - we called him Magilla, because he was one hairy ape. He used to cook bargain-bin salmon for dinner nightly. Again, nothing better than throwing up in my mouth while trying to leave my own apartment.

There's still a little stank filtering through the hallways, even today. Ick.

Sugar high

WOOOOOOOOOOOO! Valentine's Day goods are on the shelves, which means my 2nd favorite holiday candy of all time is available - Sweet Tart Hearts! I just made myself sick upon consumption of, oh, maybe half a bag. Well worth it.

Are you interested to know my #1 all-time favorite holiday candy? You'll have to wait for easter.....heathens.

Also, the sky is falling here in NY today - I'm only on the 5th floor of my building, and can barely see across the street to spy on the folks at Hot 97, NY's #1 urban radio station. Shucks. Crazy fog - I feel like I'm enveloped by cotton.

This is for you, haters

So have heard some gripes that my blog ain't really a blog because I don't post on it regularly. I have decided to try and amend this and will claim it as a "New Year's Resolution." I don't necessarily believe in the "NYR" as most people do, since most people think of it as a short-lived quick fix that lasts until February (which I also might add, coincides with my gym actually emptying out because you people finally decided you'd rather do anything than exercise in the evening. Hallelujah, more machine time/less wait for me!)

Instead, I tend to think of the start of a new year as time to reassess and try and make a solid effort at changing/bettering things in my life that I am not happy with. And I consider it a personal challenge to myself, which is much more effective than some silly resolution.

So here is my first post of the year (albeit 12 days after the start). But this is me - out there for you - making an effort.

One love.

Cover your wounds with meat

Wow. I am amazed. And pissed - why didn't I, with the namesake of Bacon, come up with this? OK, this so so sick and wrong but delightfully wonderful I could not help but post.


You can buy these babies at www.mcphee.com. And yes, they have an antire "Bacon" link. This is going to occupy me for days.....

NJ Nachos

So I went to another state to get nachos the other day. It was well worth it the 10 minute trip under the Hudson River to hit that delightful snack at the Black Bear in Hoboken. Relived some great memories as well.

Hey, when they're the best in the tri-state area, you have to just make the effort sometime when you have a hankering.

Call me Baldie

So I think I'm going bald in my eyelashes. Is that even possible? It makes me so sad. I remember in my younger years when I had such lush full lashes. Not so much anymore.

I wish my eyebrows would stop growing and instead fill in my lashes. No fair.

Dr Claw (Cheney)

Yar, look at me, I'm not just a claw, I'm a person!

Inspector Cheney

Ever wonder where Dick Cheney is in times of need? I think I've figured it out. He's not a real person at all - he's Dr. Claw, from Inspector Gadget. He's an arm, a spooky voice, and a brain and a jar with a cat. His "human form" is actually just a holograph, or robotic type person. Think C3PO.

Well, at least that explains why he's such a piece of shit. He's an inanimate cartoon character!

Seriously?!

I mean, I LOVE Rachael Ray, but even if you slap a fancy name on it, does this even constitute as a recipe?!

http://www.foodnetwork.com/food/recipes/recipe/0,1977,FOOD_9936_26556,00.html

I could make bacon in the microwave when I was 8. In fact, I didn't even know most people cooked it in a pan. My mom had this nifty Tupperware bacon cooker platter thing that had a grease tray and grooves, so it was a way better option for cooking my lifeblood (ie: bacon).

Best birthday cake ever!

Ok, so this is from my 25th birthday, 2 years ago, but I think it's the coolest darn thing on the planet. And I warned all you about my bacon fetish when I started this blog. My dear talented friend Shannon (aka Red-Faced Wonder) baked it and frosted it. Abso-brill.

Gummy pasta and faux grill marks

Can anyone please explain to me why I delight in Weight Watchers Bistro Selections? What's to love about gummy noodles, perfectly square "chicken" with grill marks (who are they fooling here - I mean, we all know that workers in the entree factory aren't slaving over a grill, individually grillin up 5 trillion lbs of chicken per year) and a sauce that's so loaded with salt that I have to drink 5 extra litres of water to offset it? And it leaves that funky, prepared food taste in your mouth - you know exactly what I'm talking about. It's a kind of coating that you just know isn't right - I mean you don't get that feeling when you eat fruit or veggies or whole grains, aka the good stuff that ain't fun to eat like fake-ass chicken.

Anyway, I had the Bistro Selection for lunch today and utterly delighted in it's weirdness. It's aesthetically pleasing and I don't know why. I actually have never even ordered chicken fettucine in a restaurant. My ex-boyfriend made it for us for dinner once, and I think that's been my only experience.

But one time I was either temporarey blinded by NY's extreme grocery prices or frozen into purchasing while standing with the freezer door open and I decided to go for it. Depending on what state I was in (hungover, half-asleep, happy) I could have just picked the wrong thing entirely. But the first time I had it, I clearly liked it enough to purchase again.

I think what I enjoy the most about these frozen entrees is what appeals to probably every person out there who ever purchases them: easy, one-portion meals that aren't overly bad for you. And sometimes you just want a hot meal. My chicken fettucine only had 5 grams of fat and less than 300 calories. And the processed-ness of it just does something - it makes me nostalgic and comforted at the same time.

Ok, so HERE are the baby cheetahs.

Baby Cheetahs!

A few pics of the adorable babies we saw at the National Zoo on July 9.

Monuments, animals, and brews in our nation's capital.

So it's been 4-eva (yes, with the popularity of Entourage, why wouldn't I be channeling Marky Mark from the movie Fear?)

I was in our nation's capital last weekend and had quite the enjoyable time. My friend and I were up at the ungodly hour of 7 AM on a Saturday in order to get crackin' and get to the National Zoo before 1) People crowded the viewing of the baby cheetahs, 2) Said baby cheetahs were too tired to frolick and/or were off-view, and 3) to beat the heat (a 90-degree scorcher was in the works for the day).

I have never been to the National Zoo. The first zoo I've visited in many, many years was the Central Park Zoo this past December, which was a delightful: small taste of some cute penguins, a cool rainforest area (nice way to warm up when it's 35 degress outside) and some other less than ferocious animals. The National Zoo is quite nice. And free. The cheetahs were adorable and we found out that a baby panda had been born just 7 hours prior. A productive day. And on our way out, I saw a parent with a child attached to a leash. Classic. Hey, at least she was in tune enough to know that her kid needs to be on one. I applaud her.

From there we went downtown to check the monuments and join the hordes in hip-packs, short shorts with high socks and sneaks, and cameras. Haven't done the tourist thing since college, so saw some new monuments, like Korea, which was very moving, and the new WWII (got a pic for my dear grandpop's memory). We also found a key new monument, hidden away and perfect for 90 degree afternoons - a snack kiosk selling beer. This was a delightful little surprise, because there's not really anything our forefathers would have enjoyed more than to open their city to us so we can relax by a man-made lake, sipping $2.85 cans of Bud Light (so cheap!), with the Washington Monument to our direct right, and the Lincoln Memorial to our direct left. It's like two of our greatest leaders were looking out for us, blessing us to drink in their presence. Proud to be an American, mos def.

So after 6 beers each, we trudged around some more, sun had gone down a bit, the hip-packs gone back to their hotels, and then just hiked back to the car to get some eats.

And eventful day in our nation's capital. Thank you, Washington, D.C., for allowing alcoholic beverages in your park. You made my day even better.

So you'd almost think I was Catholic...

All these Pope postings. Let's just say I'm glad that we missed the insanity in Rome. I mean, there are barely any public toilets anyway, I cannot even IMAGINE what it was like for a week. Yikes!

So this new Pope. I mean, how crazy-cool would it be? I mean, this is like the end-all-be-all. This guy has ARRIVED. I mean, back in the day, I got all exicted waiting to hear if I made National Honor Society, or Student Body President, or was elected to something that SO pales in comparison.

I mean, don't you think he'd be getting into his new white robe and just be running around the joint yelling, "Holy Shit, I'm the POPE!" I mean, he wouldn't be taking God's name in vain or anything, but even so, when you become Pope, I'd say you're even allowed a little blasphemy. I mean, hell, you're POPE for chrissakes!

It's almost better than being President - you get to sell your propaganda to millions of people who take your word as gospel. He's like George Bush for Catholics. I wish I had that kind of power. Like I could make everyone eat one of those new BK Enormous Sandwiches every Friday and make everyone fat and unhealthy. Just because I say so. That would rule.

Fun with phrases

2 phrases that we should do everything in our power to invite (back) into the vernacular:
1. No Sweat!
2. Que Pasa?

Now, my feelings on these. First, "No Sweat" has such a delightfully retro feel to it. It brings back memories of Olivia Newton-John in spandex, roller skates, Valley Girls, and neon.

Que Pasa - just a more fun way of asking "What's up?!" Whattup/wazzup is so last century - and I still use it. (Note to reader: It's not that I'm un-hip - shut it - it's just that I am forgetful in my usage of new phrases until it becomes familiar). But que pasa....now that's got flava.

So bring it. No sweat.