The Irrelevant Ramblings of Mr. Pinochle

Vegetarian For A Month: Day 30!!!

2009-08-26T08:29:00.000-07:00

This is it! Day 30! Tonight is the big dinner at Arthur’s, when I will finally be able to sink my teeth into a juicy, tender, medium-rare, 24oz sirloin!

Because roommate bailed on the fishing trip Sunday (as I knew he would), I didn’t have quite the advantage I needed to convince Billy that the 48oz’er was calling his name. However, roommate and I planned a trip down to the soccer field to work on him this morning, and we got a maybe out of him. We’ll see. I’m not getting my hopes up too much, but I am still excited that there’s a chance he will try. He plans to begin with the standard 24oz, and order a second one if he’s feeling ambitious.

Ultimately, it doesn’t really matter whether he goes for it or not. I’m just excited to eat any amount of steak, myself, and to be in good company while doing so. Truthfully, the month without meat hasn’t been as difficult as thought it would be, and I have taken some good lessons away from it, which hopefully will translate into my every day life moving forward. Don’t get the wrong impression, I plan to eat plenty of meat. However, I could probably benefit from eating less meat, and by being a bit more creative with my food choices, rather then simply slapping some meat on the grill for dinner every night (I’ll cut that back to 5 nights a week.)

I’ll wax poetic a bit more about the experience once the month is officially over, but for now, one more conversation between me and roommate before dinner a couple nights ago:

Roommate: Dude, lets just get pizza for dinner. It’s easy and I don’t feel like doing anything.

Me: I had pizza for dinner last night. Katie and I made pizza this weekend.

Roommate: what’d you guys make? Some kind of tortilla and goat cheese pizza? I want real pizza! I want pizza with meatballs and pepperoni! Maybe some sausage and bacon!

Me: Can we compromise and get peppers and onions?

Roommate: Fine. This Wednesday is the big day, huh?

Me: Yeah, I’m really excited. I can’t wait to get my hands on one of those Arthur’s steaks!

Roommate: You think you’re gonna get sick like one of those little veggies? (Followed by some not-so-masculine sounding vomit noises) You probably do. You probably think you’re gonna puke after a couple bites, don’t ya? (more vomit noises) I can’t wait for you to pull that shit.

Me: I’m not gonna get sick. Stop with your nonsense.

Roommate: I can’t wait for it. Just like one of your little hipster friends (more vomit noises)

Vegetarian For A Month: Day 25

2009-08-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

Less than a week to go! The big dinner at Arthur’s is six days away!

Last night, Billy and J came over for dinner. Billy, J and roommate had BBQ chicken, hotdogs and hamburgers…the Trio. I had portabella mushroom burgers. I was actually really excited because I went to the store and got the mushrooms, a red pepper, and was pretty damn sure we had some blue cheese left in the fridge. I also got some whole wheat rolls to use as hamburger buns.

I got home, and made it through the immediate badgering about the fact that I had to eat mushrooms while they got to eat the flesh of three different animals (it could be argued that it was more like 5 or 6 animals, because I’m quite certain that hotdogs contain raccoon toes, opossum tails, and shrew testicles.)

Billy: What’r you having for dinner tonight?

Me: Portabella mushroom burger

Billy: Mmmm, mushrooms again, huh?

Me: Yup, with peppers and blue cheese. The blue cheese is great because it makes it seem like I’m not just eating a mushroom on a roll.

Billy: I like portabella mushrooms actually…..as a side dish next to my steak!

We then talked about the Arthur’s dinner celebration next Wednesday. As excited as Billy is for the dinner, he announced that he will not be eating the 48oz’er. Roommate and I suspected that he would try to bow out of it (especially with J around). However, we have the perfect opportunity to work on him this weekend, when the three of us will spend the better part of a day fishing on a small boat. We anticipate that we will be able to turn the idea back into a distinct probability.

So, as I went to prepare my “filet mignon of mushrooms” for the grill, I began by searching for the blue cheese. I must have stood there staring into the fridge for about three minutes, and could not find the blue cheese.

Me (to roommate): Yo! Did you throw out the blue cheese?

Roommate: Uhhhh, I don’t think so.

I’ve learned over time that when roommate says, “Uhhh, I don’t think so,” it means, “yeah, whoops.”

OK, no blue cheese.

At least I have a nice red pepper. Oh, wait….I cut open the pepper to discover some kind of disgusting green fungus growing inside. Thanks, ACME!

Down to a mushroom on a roll. I did, however, have an onion in the fridge which at least added some additional texture.

Billy: How’s that mushroom on a roll?

Me: it’s actually pretty good. This roll is really good!

Roommate: What’s that? Some kind of weirdo roll?

Billy: Yeah, that’s some kind of soy and bean roll. See this? This is a real hamburger bun…Enriched white! This is what America runs on!

Roommate (to me): Not you. You yuppie hipsters run on yoga and soy bread.

Billy: This is my last day eating meat. Tomorrow I become vegetarian for a month.

……Laughter filled the room…..

Billy: There’s no way I could do that. I couldn’t even do it for a day. I wouldn’t even have any idea how to do it?

J: Come on, you could do it for a day.

Billy: Yeah, if I didn’t eat.

J: What about spaghetti?

Billy: Yeah, I guess you’re right.

Vegetarian For A Month: Day 18

2009-08-13T07:41:00.000-07:00

Quick update before I leave for a long weekend.

Still going strong, though some of the aforementioned characters in my life are being increasingly unsupportive. There have been some conversations over the past several days with roommate, Billy, and others…

This morning I took my roommate to the airport….early! Like, 5AM early. What’s fair is fair. He gave me a ride to the airport for my most recent trip, so I willingly returned the favor. However, the conversation arose (right around dinner time a few days ago) about how he would get home from the airport, and this is how it went:

Roommate: You know I need to be picked up at the airport on Sunday night, right?

Me: I’m out of town this weekend. What time do you need to be picked up?

Roommate: Midnight.

Me: You serious? I have to go to work the next morning. Ask your uncle Billy to pick you up.

Roommate: Listen, I need to be picked up. I don’t care who does it. You and Billy get together and figure it out.

Me: I don’t know, man. I think I see a cab ride in your future.

Roommate: OK, I will gladly take a cab and never mention it once, if you eat meat tonight.

Me: No! And what does that have to do with this?

Roommate: Come on, dude! I’ll go get us some nice T-bones, and we can put them right on the grill. I’ll even tell Katie you picked me up at the airport.

Me: No! What is wrong with you?

Roommate: Fine, dude. Whatever.

The conversation then shifted to the celebratory dinner at Arthur’s, to take place upon the completion of my month without meat.

Me: So whatta you think about Billy puttin’ away the 48oz’er at Arthur’s? J (J=Billy’s lady friend) didn’t seem too thrilled with it.

Roommate: Yeah. I think the key will be to stop mentioning it, until the day of….Especially in front of J.

Me: So, you think we should just plan the dinner at Arthur’s and then really push for the 48oz’er that day?

Roommate: Yeah. I mean, we’re really going to have to make a big push that day, but I don’t think we should bring it up in front of J again.

Me: OK. Do you think he will really be able to put it away?

Roommate: Are you kidding me? Did you hear what his main concern is?

Me: No, what is it?

Roommate: His main concern is whether there will be two servings of Arthur’s potatoes that come with the double steak.

Me: What about all the other stuff they give you before the meal, like the pickles and peppers?

Roommate: We have to keep those away from him.

Me: I don’t know, I think the pickles might be good to stretch out the stomach a bit and prepare it for the steak.

Roommate: You might be right. Speaking of which, How can we really make sure Billy is ready for this? How can we help him prepare?

Me: We’re going to have to give him a couple training sessions.

Roommate: Maybe next week we’ll go out and get a London broil for him and see if he can put that down.

Last night…We had a few people over, and we ordered empanadas from Raul’s.

Orders included: BBQ Pulled Pork Empanadas, beef inferno empanadas, buffalo chicken empanadas, regular beef and chicken empanadas. And my empanadas: Broccoli and cheddar, and hummus.

G (buddy writing down orders): what kind of empanadas do you want?

Me: Uhhh, I’ll have the broccoli and cheese empanada, and…

Billy: You need some ham in that! The broccoli, cheddar, and ham empanada!

Me: And I’ll have the hummus empanada.

G: Look at Billy. Just look at how disgusted he is with you right now.

(Billy’s expression was one of disgust, disappointment, confusion, and sadness.)

Me: Yeah he does look pretty disgusted

Billy: This better be over soon. I can’t take this much longer.

I’m glad there are only 12 more days. Because Billy can’t take this much longer.

Tomato, Onion, Goat Cheese, Pepper Omeletts from this weekend

Poached Eggs, Goat Cheese, Onion, Basil wrap.

Vegetarian For A Month: Day 15

2009-08-10T11:10:00.000-07:00

Half way there!!!

Another successful weekend. We barbequed on Friday night, and the vegetarian option included grilled Portobello mushrooms with blue cheese, peppers, and asparagus. It was outright delicious.

Saturday we had the best scone on the planet earth, and then the worst diner food on the planet earth (maybe not the worst, but somewhere around the 5th percentile.)

Saturday night we had vegetarian empanadas. Thanks, Raul.

We spent Saturday afternoon raspberry and peach picking.

Sunday morning we used a bunch of vegetables already in the fridge, and made goat cheese, pepper, onion and tomato omelets.

We then baked three outstanding peach/raspberry crisps that, along with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, are possibly the best crisps I’ve ever had.

It was decided at some point Friday night, that my ceremonial re-introduction to meat, will be held at Arthur’s Tavern. Arthur’s is a steakhouse of sorts, with two steaks on the menu; the 24oz, and the 48oz. It has long been discussed, that given Billy’s ability to breeze through the 24oz like it’s off of the kid’s menu (gristle and all), we very much believe he could put away the double portion, no problem. Billy agrees, and it has been decided. For my return to carnivorousness (actually a word), we will hopefully witness what has been eagerly anticipated. Billy’s lady friend is not particularly fond of the idea, but we’re working on that. I will stick to the 24oz.

Billy: What are we doing to celebrate the end of this month with no meat?

Me: I’m not sure. I really haven’t thought about exactly what we’ll do.

Billy: I think we should have it at Arthur’s, and to celebrate, I’m going to eat the 48oz’er.

Roommate: Oh my god, that’s an outstanding idea!

Me: Absolutely! Done! That’s it!

Billy’s Lady Friend: Woa woa woa. I don’t think that’s such a good idea.

All of us: Why not?!

Billy’s Lady Friend: Because I don’t think it’s very healthy.

Billy: Listen, I want to do this before it’s too late. Right now, I’m in relatively good condition. Eventually, I won’t be able to do this.

Roommate: Yeah he’s fine! As long as he has his pills, it’s fine!

Billy’s Lady Friend: Well, your cholesterol is actually not too high.

All of us: See? It’s fine. If his cholesterol is fine, then it’s no problem!

Billy’s Lady Friend: Whatever.

Vegetarian For A Month: Day 12

2009-08-07T11:40:00.000-07:00

I came back from lunch today, and found roommate and Billy sitting in my office. Out of pure excitement for tonight’s BBQ, they came to talk about the plan and divvy up the responsibilities beforehand. Roommate had already been in my office once today to discuss the same subject. Obviously, the menu was discussed…

Roommate: So what should we eat?

(Four eyes focus on me)

Roommate: You tell us, vegetable boy, what can you eat? Some kind of root?

Me: I don’t know, we were thinking we might do some Portobello mushrooms on the grill.

Billy: What does that mean? You just eat a mushroom? That’s it?

Tonight should be fun…

Vegetarian For A Month: Day 11

2009-08-06T05:00:00.000-07:00

One thing I’ve noticed during my 10 days living a vegetarian lifestyle (roommate would have a field day if he heard me use the phrase “vegetarian lifestyle”), is that I’m more aware of what is in the food I’m eating. Because this is still new to me, I have to stop and think about what ingredients are actually in the food, before each time I eat. Most recently, I went into our freezer (looking for what I could unfreeze for dinner), and I found a giant bag of frozen M&M’s.

My first thought was, “holy shit! There’s a bag of M&M’s in the freezer!”

My second thought was, “Oh shit, is there any meat in M&M’s?”

My third thought was, “I wish there was a way for me to kick my own ass for even letting that question form itself in my brain.”

Then I ate an M&M.

Then I started thinking about the benefit of actually having to think about what is in the food before I eat it. Ideally, it will force me to take it a step further and think about what non-meat stuff it’s made with, so I ‘m better informed about whether it’s good for me at all. The example I provided is a poor one, because it led to me eating a few M&M’s, which are not typically considered healthy. Unless they have dark chocolate in them in which case they can save you from a heart attack like an aspirin, according to most chocolate companies.

I guess the point is that I seem to be a bit more aware of what I’m eating, and it makes me miss meat. I suppose the newness and awareness inspiring quality of this experiment will wear off in about 20 days or so, anyway. Perfect timing.

Vegetarian For A Month: Day 10

2009-08-05T10:54:00.000-07:00

Another successful day.

For lunch yesterday, I had goat cheese ravioli with some kind of olive puree and diced tomatoes and onions, and it was decent. Not spectacular, but decent.

For dinner, I was in the city. Along with a friend and my special lady friend, I enjoyed the Larry Tate, which is a white pie topped with spinach, plum tomatoes, and fresh garlic. It was pretty delicious and I recommend the UES Two Boots for a pretty damn good pie. Not the best I’ve ever had by any stretch. But pretty prettyyyy pretttttyyyy, preeetttyyy good.

Before I left for the city, there was time for a short conversation with the roommate:

Roommate: what are we doing tonight?

Me: I’m going into the city

Roommate: What!?! Why? I thought you were staying here tonight!

Me: Nope, going into the city. Sorry, man, you’re on your own again.

Roommate: I thought we were gonna barbeque some kind of roots and berries. I got the good roots for you tonight!

Me: Very funny. I guess we’ll just have to wait for another night.

Roommate: What’r you doing in the city tonight? Going to some kind of tofu and fruit juice party?

Me: Yup. You got it. Going to a tofu and fruit juice party.

(I walk out of the room to get my things together)

Roommate (from the porch): It used to be beer and bacon tastings, dude!!!! Now its tofu and fruit juice parties! What’s happening to you?!?!

Vegetarian For A Month: Day 8

2009-08-04T06:46:00.000-07:00

The weekend was successful in keeping to a vegetarian diet. Albeit, it was difficult when golfing with a few friends on Saturday. The cart lady came around several times, and finally all three of them decided they wanted sandwiches. Roast beef, turkey, ham….nothing for me, thank you. That’s ok, though. They were probably soggy and warm.

Last night was a little bit more difficult. In the late morning, my roommate called me and asked me what I thought about having lobster for dinner. Of course, I’m not going to say no to lobster. So, we went down and paid our ol’ pal Billy a visit at the soccer field where he was coaching soccer camp, and baking in the 90 degree heat (Billy has the same blood type as an arctic penguin and is not a fan of any temperature higher than 60.)

Billy was immediately on board with the lobster idea, and somewhere along the way it evolved into surf-n-turf, my favorite meal on the planet earth.

Billy (to me): uhh, what’s this I hear about you being a vegetable now?

Me: It’s just for a month. After the month is over, I can eat meat again.

Billy: I don’t understand. Why are you doing this? Did Katie make you do this?

Me: No, she didn’t make me do anything. She supports it, but it was my idea.

Billy: I don’t understand. Why are you doing it?

Me: because I want to see what it’s like to be a vegetarian. That’s all.

Billy: (Blank stare for 15-20 seconds) Why would you choose July to do this? This is the worst month of the year to be a vegetarian!

Me: That’s true, I didn’t really think that part through.

Roommate: Yeah, you should have picked November or something.

Billy: No no no. November is football season. That’s no good either. February. That’s the month you should have chosen. Football season is over, and it’s the shortest month of the year.

Touché, Billy.

So we split up the responsibilities to prepare for the feast, and went on our ways for the remainder of the work day.

Later, back at home:

Roommate: Uhh, by the way, you will be paying the same as everyone else, regardless of what you’re eating.

Me: Why? I’m not even eating any steak.

Roommate: Listen. We’re eating surf-n-turf for dinner tonight. If you choose not to eat the turf, that’s your problem.

So, we ended up with lobster tails for everyone, a big, thick, juicy London broil for the other three gentlemen (another buddy joined us as well), and a nice fillet of almond crusted flounder for me.

As Billy shreds a piece of perfectly grilled steak with his teeth:

Billy: How’s that fish?

Me: Actually it’s pretty good.

Billy: You eat like a woman. What’s next, you gonna start sitting down to pee?

Roommate: Dude, I sit down when I pee sometimes.

Looks of confusion focused on Roommate for a few seconds.

Roommate: What!?! I’m lazy! I like to sit down!

Me: Listen, it’s only for a month! It’s not like I don’t want a nice, big, juicy piece of steak right now. But I’m not having any. No big deal. I’ll be able to have it in September.

Billy: No, I know what’s going to happen. You’re never coming back. You love being a vegetable and you’ll probably never eat a piece of meat again.

Roommate: Yeah, you’ll probably never eat meat again. You’re always gonna eat like a woman.

Me: At least I pee like a man.

Roommate: Shut up, dude.

My Surf-n-Surf

The Turf

Vegetarian For A Month: Day 5

2009-07-31T10:45:00.000-07:00

Not much new to report. Still a vegetarian. Yesterday was relatively easy, and my roommate and I barely crossed paths so he didn’t have much of an opportunity to get his claws into me.

Breakfast was a plum I had taken from the cafeteria the day before. Lunch was cooked carrots, and pasta with marinara sauce. Dinner was spinach pie, which was actually quite good, but came from the freezer (damnit!!!)

I will say this. I don’t know quite how to explain it, but having been off of meat for around 5 days, I do feel healthy. I hesitate to use the word “healthier” for two reasons. One, is that it would insinuate I felt unhealthy as an omnivore, which is not the case. Two, it would make me feel like I was bad-mouthing a life-long companion, and I just can’t bring myself to do it. However, it’s difficult to describe, but I feel somewhat different, and it’s not necessarily in a bad way.

Let me state clearly that this does not mean I will continue neglecting meat after this month is over. Perhaps I’ll consider eating less meat. We’ll see.

Vegetarian For A Month: Day 4

2009-07-30T07:17:00.000-07:00

Wow! I made it through last night!

When I first decided to go meatless for a month, I was open about the fact that there would be one particular night, when being vegetarian was simply not an option. The reason…there was a barbeque planned with 8 of my college buddies, so that we could all hang out with our friend from Bermuda, who had an overnight layover in New York.

I knew that it wouldn’t be possible for me to make it through the barbeque without eating meat, so I planned on that being my one “slip-up” during the month. I wasn’t so much worried that the temptation of burgers and grilled chicken would be too much for me to resist. It’s not as though it’s been months since I’ve had meat on the grill. It has probably been months since I haven’t had meat on the grill. No, my concern lied more in the fact that I would be discovered. There is absolutely no way in hell I could tell these Neanderthals I was going (gulp) vegetarian for a month, and expect them not to throw me off of the 8 story high roof on which we would be grilling.

Luckily, by the grace of…science, the weather was less than ideal for barbequing, and we all decided to meet at a restaurant for dinner instead. Perfect! There would be all kinds of options on the menu for me to discretely slide through the night without eating meat, and without anyone noticing. So the emails started going around, and the suggestion of eating at Brother Jimmy’s Barbeque was thrown into the mix. Well, it didn’t take long for consensus to fall on that choice. This was going to be a bit harder than I had hoped.

Before heading down to Brother Jimmy’s, Katie and I went to their website to look at their menu. I needed a plan. I couldn’t simply order something off the menu, and ask them to leave out the meat. That would have completely exposed me, as it’s something I have never done in my entire life, and my friends know that. There were literally two options on the entire menu that did not contain meat. One was fried catfish, and the other was a shrimp po-boy (I am obviously going the “fish is ok” route during this month.) I landed on the shrimp po-boy and chose collared greens as my side.

I showed up at the restaurant and found a few of my buddies already there, near the bar of course, two of whom had been drinking at another bar for three hours already. They were drunk. We hung out there for about a half hour until everyone else showed up, at which point we asked the hostess to take us to our table. As we entered the restaurant portion of the place, the smell of barbequed meats hit me like a ton of bricks! Brisket, chicken, ribs, steak, pulled pork! I must have looked nervous.

Of course, within minutes, there were three different kinds of chicken wings on our table. Apparently, it hadn’t taken very long for the appetizer order to be placed. As the baskets and buckets of wings were passed around the table, I casually passed them along, and luckily, made it through the first “leg” of the night without succumbing to temptation or being discovered.

Then the meals arrived. Pulled pork sandwiches, ribs, brisket, fried chicken, and a shrimp po-boy. I must have been asked by four or five of my buddies what I ordered as they all stared at it with expressions of utter confusion.
“It’s a shrimp po-boy.” I responded. “I’ve never had a po-boy before, and was told I should really try it.”

Whether or not they were suspicious, the answer seemed to suffice, and I made it through the meal without further questioning.

The Shrimp po-boy was OK at best, and for the first time, I really missed meat.

Vegetarian For A Month: Day 3

2009-07-29T06:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was successful in terms of not making any mistakes, and keeping to my “plant eater” regimen.

For breakfast, I had yogurt with granola. Not very exciting, but quite tasty.

For lunch, I had a bit of cheese ravioli, sautéed yellow squash with peppers, asparagus, and garlic, and sautéed spinach. None of it was out of this world, but that’s what I get for not eating lunch until fifteens minutes after the cafeteria is officially closed.

When I arrived home, my roommate pounced on the opportunity to get a few digs in before he left for the night.

Roommate: So how’s the plant eating going?

Me: Fine. They didn’t really have any meat at lunch to tempt me anyway, so it wasn’t even difficult today.

Roommate: I can’t wait until the next night we’re both home. I’m going to get some nice, big, juicy delmonico steaks and put ‘em right on the grill! And I’m going to leave them a little redder on the inside than I like them, because I know that’s the way you like them.

Me: Very good. Thanks a lot.

Roommate: I might even have Billy over here in the morning while we’re at work, slow cooking some kind of delicious pork shoulder on the grill, all day, so it’s ready to fall right off the bone when we get home!

Me: What is wrong with you?

Roommate: And then, I’m going to make a sandwich, with the pork between the two steaks, and I’m going to eat it right in front of you!

Luckily, that doesn’t even sound remotely appetizing to me, so his ploy fell short of inspiring envy.

My dinner last night was quite different than the night before. I had black bean and corn enchiladas with chipotle salsa, and green beans with a spicy Thai sauce. It was actually quite delicious, but it all basically came from the freezer with the exception of the salsa. I don’t know what the ruling is on freezer meals. I mean, I know it still counts as vegetarian, but I almost felt like I was cheating in a way, because I didn’t use fresh ingredients. I suppose I’ll have to get over that though, because it was really easy, and I foresee frozen meals being incorporated again throughout the month.

Vegetarian For A Month: Day 2

2009-07-28T07:59:00.000-07:00

Last night, I cooked my first official vegetarian dinner. In fact, once my roommate finally calmed down after hearing the news, we concluded that we may have never prepared a meal for both our consumption, without meat. Thanks to Katie, I have a few starter recipes with ingredients and instructions for every step along the way.
First step, go to Trader Joe’s and stock up with ingredients for several meals I can easily put together at home. So, after enduring two hours of non-stop verbal abuse for my new venture, I grabbed my two pages worth of recipes/ingredients, and headed for the store.

This was the first time I noticed that the meat section at Trader Joe’s engages each customer in a stare-down, almost immediately after they enter the store. There’s red meats, white meats, ground meats, flight meats! Some are pre-marinated, some are lying there simply in a state of raw, natural meaty goodness. Today, I would walk straight by the generous selection, a tear forming in the corner of each eye, and begin my shopping near the carrots, lettuce, spinach, and squash.

Of course, I suppose I could have stocked up on a variety of meatless sausages, hotdogs, burgers, and whatever else they can cram tofu into, but I’m just not ready for that kind of leap just yet. Baby steps. After spending a considerable amount of time with the vegetables and fruit in the back of the store, I moved to the frozen food aisle where Katie informed me I would find a variety of bean and vegetable burrito type foods. I spotted some black bean and rice burritos, and reluctantly reached out to them. As I clutched my hand around one, I realized I had chosen one with, in giant letters, “shredded beef” written across the front. I quickly moved my arm to my side and looked around to see if anyone saw. I have been a vegetarian for roughly 24 hours, and I already feel a sense of disappointment in myself for even coming close to making a mistake.
After about an hour of walking around the store, probably giving the impression that the lettering on each label appeared to be in Chinese, I went to check out.

Check out guy: How are you?
Me: Great, how are you?
Check out guy: I'm having the time of my life!

(Yeah, you probably have some kind of sausage or steak waiting for you at home, asshole)

This is the list of items on my receipt:

Garlic Chipotle Salsa
1 can Garbanzo beans
1 can Cuban Style Black Beans
1 can Marinated Bean Salad
handmade whole wheat tortillas
3-Berries Granola
Green Beans with Thai Sauce
Spinach Pie
Grilled Vegetable and Black Bean Burrito
Bean/Rice/Cheese Burrito
Black Bean and Corn Enchilada
Bag of Apples
Four cups of Yogurt
Three Peppers
Fresh Cilantro
Fresh Parsley
Peeled Baby Carrots
Goat Cheese
Three Onions
Feta Cheese

I don’t know if being a vegetarian is any less or more expensive than being an omnivore. My total was $51.26, which is around what I would spend on a normal trip to Trader Joe’s before this meatless month. I made the conscious decision not to get a vitamin to supplement anything meat typically provides. I already take a multivitamin, and I would rather go the route of eating foods that provide that nutrition. I also decided not to buy any pasta, as I do not want to fall into the trap of making noodles and marinara sauce every night because it’s easy.

Here is a picture of some ingredients that went into my dinner tonight; Goat cheese/pepper/onion quesadilla. Pretty damn good for a first try.

Vegetarian For A Month: Day 1, Post #2

2009-07-27T14:00:00.000-07:00

As I write this on the porch:
Roommate: What are you doing, writing to one of your new vegetarian friends? One of those weirdo plant eaters? You Bloggin'? You seem like the bloggin' type to me now.

Ironically, he has no idea I have a blog, and will not be informed.

Upon telling my roommate that I will not be eating meat for one month, this conversation ensued.

Roommate: what are we eating for dinner?
Me: Well, you’re not going to like the news I’m about to tell you.
Roommate: what?
Me: I’m not eating meat for the next month.
Roommate: Whatta you mean?
Me: I mean, for the next 30 days, I’m not eating any meat.
Roommate: why?
Me: Because I want to see what it’s like
Roommate: whatta you mean “what its like?” I bet it’s terrible! That’s what it’s like! Did Katie put you up to this?
Me: No, Dude! She didn’t even bring it up! I just decided to see what it’s like to be a vegetarian for a month.
Roommate: That’s ridiculous. I don’t like this at all.

…Five minutes of silence…

Roommate: So what am I supposed to do for dinner?
Me: I don’t know. I guess you’re on your own.
Roommate: Yeah! I know I’m on my own! What am I supposed to do?
Me: I don’t know. You’re welcome to eat what I eat, but I’m sure you won’t want to.
Roommate: Yeah, you’re goddamn right I don’t want to. Can you eat chicken?
Me: No. Chicken is meat. I can’t eat chicken.
Roommate: So what can you eat? Plants? That’s it? This is terrible. This is the beginning of my decline. This is really bad news for me.
Me: I know, I don’t know what you’re going to do.
Roommate: I wish Billy was here slow-roasting some kind of meat on the barbeque. I hope he’s over here every day making mac-n-cheese with bacon and all kinds of delicious things you can’t eat.
Me: Sweet, thanks.
Roommate: So I guess no more Arthur's or Lugers for you.
Me: Dude, it’s only for a month. After that, I can eat all of that again.
Roommate: Nah. I know what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna lose your stomach for all that stuff. You’re gonna be pukin’ like one of those little vegetable hipsters saying, “I cant eat it! I feel like I’m gonna puke!” I can’t wait for you to start with that.

It went better than I expected.

Roommate’s dinner: Cereal, cold pizza, and cookies.

Vegetarian For A Month: Day 1

2009-07-27T10:42:00.000-07:00

Today marks the first of 31 days, during which I will try my very best, not to consume any meat. For anyone who knows me at all, this will come as a shock of the same magnitude as Michael Jackson’s autopsy report which states clearly that he was in fact human.

As friends, family, co-workers, and others hear of this month-long experiment, there will be questions;

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Who made you do this?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Do you need to talk to someone about a problem in your life?”

Perhaps the second toughest part of this experiment will be fielding these questions and not becoming overly frustrated with those asking them. First, I will put what I anticipate to be the most frequently asked question to rest:

No, my girlfriend did not make me do this!

Though she is completely supportive, and quite helpful with ways to make sure I get enough protein and nutrients during my vacation from flesh, she has in no way imposed this upon me. However, something she recently did indeed played a role in inspiring this idea. Though she has lived most of the last ten years as a vegetarian, she recently began eating meat for what I see as a completely selfless reason. In anticipation of our recent trip to Australia, she decided to train her body to process meat so that she could, “try everything in Australia, and not be a pain in the ass about finding food she could eat.” Though nobody would have viewed her as a pain-in-the-ass if she hadn’t been eating meat, I thought it was a nice gesture (although she doesn’t fool me. I had seen her eyeing my steaks for months and I know she just couldn’t take it anymore.)

So, as she made the decision to cross over to my carnivorous world temporarily, so shall I TEMPORARILY cross over to her herbivorous world as well. I plan to keep all three of you blog followers updated every few days throughout this experiment, and hopefully it will keep me on track and on the wagon (not the meat wagon).

Tonight, when I tell my roommate (who somewhat depends on me to cook his meat-filled dinners) of this plan, I anticipate a tantrum similar to the one seen here.

Complaint Letter To United Airlines, Part 1

2009-07-24T12:18:00.000-07:00

Dear United Airlines Customer Disservice Representative,

I am writing to inform you of the worst travel experience I’ve ever had. I’ll give you three guesses for which airline I used, but I’m sure you’ll only need one. After all, you work there, so you obviously know how terrible a company United is.

My journey begins in Newark, NJ at the airport, where United’s planes are meant to fly in and out, reasonably close to the scheduled time displayed in their customers’ itineraries. As my trip was international, and I knew security may take longer than usual, I arrived at the airport two and a half hours before the scheduled flight time. The electronic print-your-own-ticket kiosks are located at the counter where one would check his/her bags, so a long line formed within the designated roped-off area. It was clear that each of the 3-4 dozen unfortunate United customers were under the impression that they must wait their turn to be called to the counter. After the single United representative spent a good 10 minutes looking down at her computer screen with an expression of bewilderment and lack of intelligence, she looked up and realized that there was a long line formed. She then proclaimed, with a tone fit for evening announcements at a state penitentiary, “Um, these kiosks are here so you can print your tickets!” As she went back to being a silent idiot, and not helping the frustrated customer standing before her, we all looked at each other with “is she serious?” expressions, and then scrambled to take our places at the kiosks. As a side note, the kiosk told me I couldn’t apply my flights to my frequent flyer account for which I had signed up. Even your Kiosks have severe competency issues.

Luckily I wasn’t checking any bags and didn’t have to interact with another United employee from that point until I cleared security and arrived at the gate. Around an hour and a half before flight time, an announcement came over the loud speaker (I think at least part of it was in English), explaining that the flight would be delayed, because the plane we were to fly in, had not yet taken off from its previous destination. Over the course of the next three hours, we would be “updated” every half hour or so, with the exact same information. The only difference in each announcement, was that the estimated time of departure became later and later. Each time though, the reason for delay was attributed to our plane not having yet left for Newark from wherever it was. Weather was not mentioned as a reason until the clouds settled in a couple hours after the original announcement (I’m fully aware of United’s policy whereby you will not pay for necessary hotel rooms when customer’s plans are disrupted for weather related reasons.) How convenient that the clouds decided to roll in.

Throughout the delay, the woman, who had recently completed the beginners level of Rosetta Stone English, acknowledged over the loudspeaker that she knew of 18 passengers who were making a connection to Sydney Australia, an hour after the original estimated arrival time in San Francisco. It was clear that we were not going to be there in time. However, the woman continually insisted that she was in contact with the United morons in San Francisco, and that they were going to hold the plane for us. Fantastic!!!

The plane finally arrived three hours late, at which point the folks orchestrating this whole disaster announced that the flight is overbooked. Shocking! They began asking for a volunteer to be bumped until the following morning. The volunteer would be put up in a hotel over night, flown to San Francisco the next morning, and would receive a complimentary round trip ticket on the worst airline on the planet Earth, United, anywhere in the continental United States. As much as I never want to fly United again, and hope that they fall deep into bankruptcy from which they have no chance of emerging, I wanted the free trip. So, what kept me from volunteering, you ask. Well, I suppose the fact that madam gibberish kept insisting that I would make my connection and I assumed I would be in Sydney as originally planned. If she had been honest or at least audible, I might have known I didn’t have a chance, and would have volunteered to be put on a flight the next morning.

Obviously you must have guessed by now that we arrived in San Francisco and were told immediately upon landing that we had missed our connection to Sydney. Huge surprise. There were two United idiots waiting for us as we got off the plane with slips of paper containing a number to call for discounted rates at nearby hotels. Before any of us could even get the question out, we were forcefully informed that “we don’t comp hotel rooms if the problem is weather related.” Well done training your employees to throw empathy and understanding right out the window. It’s clear that practice has been handed down from the top quite effectively.

So, I called the number, booked a room, waited for my shuttle, and arrived at the hotel around 1:30AM.

To be continued…

The Angry Environmentalist

2009-04-20T14:06:00.000-07:00

Why is it that whenever the topic of environmental conservation is discussed, half of the content involves assessing blame for the jam our planet is in. It’s almost impossible to have a conversation on the subject, and not hear something like,

“Well, we wouldn’t have this problem if it weren’t for us. People are the reason for this disaster!”

It’s almost as if that declaration insinuates that people should just go away. I’m certainly no expert on the environment or the specific reasons for global warming, and other such concerns. I know the basics, and could probably hold my own in a conversation with a fellow layman, but I certainly don’t claim to possess knowledge beyond that. At the same time, I understand that it is an extremely important subject, and would like to be better informed. However, I find it off-putting, almost excruciating, to sit and listen to some self-righteous “expert” who spends half of his/her time talking about all of the ways we have screwed up.

I understand that we, as people, have collectively made many dire mistakes and adopted a lifestyle which is not conducive to preserving our planet. I think most relatively intelligent people understand that. I also understand that in order to fix the problems, stop destroying our home, and begin undoing a way of life that would ultimately kill us all, we need to acknowledge and understand the things we have done, and should no longer do. But isn’t there a better, less abrasive way to go about it?

Here’s my plea to environmentalists and anyone else to whom the above gripe applies:

Instead of spending so much energy blaming people and pointing fingers, put down your sword and figure out a more creative way to get people on board. Stop spending all of your time being pissed off, and understand that people are lazy, not ill-intentioned. When you take the same approach that has been taken over and over again, whereby you essentially bombard environmental offenders with guilt, they won’t listen to you. Use your smog-filled brain to make stewardship and conservation appealing.

A great example of this is demonstrated at this website run by Josh Dorfman. Visit the site, or read a brief synopsis about the concept at this fun, informative, well-written blog!

I’m tired of hearing over and over that we destroyed our planet and that we’re all to blame for contributing to the problem. I know that already. Let’s spend the bulk of our time educating people and making it more appealing to be good stewards.

Dr. Moron

2009-04-15T17:10:00.000-07:00

I’m often debated on my position that doctors are for the birds. Basically the only ones who don’t debate me are the birds, because well, birds are passive by nature (See endnote "1") . There are several positions I take when the conversation arises, most of which are rebutted with arguments that admittedly make a lot of sense when spoken out loud. Remarkably, none have managed to sway me and force out the words, “ok I’ll go to the doctor on a regular basis.”(ii)
I’m fully aware that when I speak or write on this subject, I don’t exactly radiate intelligence. And when I tell people I think they should go to doctors, even though I don’t, it probably makes me sound borderline mental. But the fact of the matter is, I do think people should go to doctors. I know several people who have benefited immensely from visiting doctors regularly and were able to prevent or contain illness because of it. I also know and hear stories about people who take my path and outlive everyone around them. Just recently I was talking with someone who told me about his 87 year old father who refuses to go to the doctor, and doesn’t exactly eat healthy.

Ok ok, I’ll say it for you: “Mr. Pinochle, you’re an idiot! Those people are the exception, not the rule!”

Maybe that’s true. And if you notice, I haven’t once (yet) tried to defend my position as sensible or well-substantiated. I don’t even fully understand the point of putting this in ink, because it really only serves as ammunition for those with whom I have this discussion regularly. (iii)

On some level, I appreciate the people who pressure me and routinely remind me that I’m not very smart on this particular subject.(iv) I think everyone chooses a select few topics about which they are comfortable being openly hypocritical; Like vegetarians who wear fur.(v) My badge of hypocrisy happens to be one that even I admit has no merit whatsoever. The good news is that I tend to come around on things like this eventually. At a certain point, I grow ill with stubbornness, and end up taking the medicine.

i) The exceptions to this claim are New York City pigeons and large ostrich-like demons including rheas and emus.
ii) regular basis” is used because I will in fact go to the hospital for emergencies deemed un-self-medicatable. Examples include excessive bleeding from the hand or nose, elephantitus of the ear, and broken bones.
iii) You know who you are, but I wanted to add another footnote.
iv) Some of those people also remind me that I’m not very smart on any particular subject.
v) Ouch! That was a serious jab and I’m going to hear about it.

The Lug Nut Saga

2009-03-04T13:24:00.000-08:00

Here’s the story of what turned into an 18 hour ordeal to perform a simple tire-change on my car. Typically I make a concerted effort to keep curse words out of my family-friendly blog, but for this story, that won’t be the case. Ear-muffs…or eye-muffs. I must have interacted with at least 15 people during this escapade, and because I didn’t quite catch everyone’s name, I will simply apply names that fit their personalities.

It was about 5PM when I decided to call it quits for the workday. I followed my usual routine of seeing who was still in the office, so I could say goodbye before I left. After saying goodbye to my two remaining co-workers, I headed out to the parking lot, thinking about how I would stop at the grocery store to pick up all of the necessary ingredients to make Micheladas, my new favorite drink. As I approached the back of my car, I realized that the passenger side rear tire was completely flat. No big deal. During my 4 years of working for a car rental company, I changed many-a-tire…dozens and dozens. On some strange level, I was actually quite excited to change my tire, as I suspected it would offer a bitter-sweet taste of nostalgia. I opened my trunk, pulled out the spare, and started digging around for the jack kit.

“Shit,” I thought, “I just started this process 30 seconds ago, and already I need to refer to my owner’s manual just to find the jack kit.”

The manual was no help, as it didn’t specify where the jack kit was stowed. But, eventually I found the tools nestled in a little compartment off to the side of my trunk, and started rummaging through to find everything I needed.

Jack…check

Wrench…check

Four tools that inspired me to say, “What the fuck is that?”…check

So I set myself up with the spare leaning against the bumper, tools at my side, and I crouched down to start loosening the lug nuts.

“Uhoh, where are the lugnuts? Ahah! They must be under this metal cover that keeps them hidden from thieves, and Volkswagen owners. I guess I just have to pry this thing off using one of my little ‘what the fuck is that’ tools.”

So I start sticking the little pin tool into the holes on the metal cover and try to pry it off. Conventional wisdom would tell me not to just start poking and prying things off of my car. Unfortunately, I’m neither conventional, nor wise. Here comes Tony, a co-worker who happened to be walking by.

Tony: “Hey, you need some help?”

Clearly I was giving off the impression that I had no idea what the hell I was doing as I was shoving a little metal pin into a hole on my rim and trying to pull it off. Even a Housewife of Orange County probably knows that isn’t typically part of changing a tire.

Me: “Nah, I think I’m ok, if I can just get this little metal cover off.”
Tony: “OK, well I’ll be over in Donna’s office if you need help.”
Me: “Alright, thanks a lot, I appreciate it.”

Eventually, the metal plate was off and I was ready to loosen the lug nuts. I grabbed my wrench and started cranking away at them. Four down, one to go.

“What the fuck is that?” Certainly not the first time I had muttered that under my breath to this point.

Instead of a lug nut that resembled the four I had just loosened, there was a bolt head with a perfectly round perimeter, and jagged teeth inside, making it very apparent that I was not going to have any luck unscrewing it with my wrench. Immediately I began sifting through my “what the fuck is that” tools to see if there was something that might help me out. No such luck. At this point, Tony is walking back the other way, and to his eye, it probably looked as though I had made absolutely no progress in the ten minutes that had passed.

Tony: “You sure you don’t need any help?”
Me: “Well, have you ever seen a lug nut like this?”
Tony: “No. What the fuck is that?”
Me: “exactly. I think it’s some kind of antitheft lug nut, but I can’t find the piece I need to unscrew it.”

It should be noted that I bought this car pre-owned from a VW dealership 6 months prior, and in the conversations I had with the sales people, there was no mention of special lug nuts and tools to unscrew them.

Tony: “Yeah, you’re exactly right. That’s exactly what that is. Did you check the glove compartment and the trunk, and the middle console to see if the piece was in there?”
Me: “I did, but I suppose I should check again.”

As I went back through all of the possible hiding places in my car, Tony grabbed the tool kit and started sorting through it to see if he could find something I had overlooked. Still no luck for either of us. Tony wished me luck and went on his way.

At this point, my hands were so damn cold I couldn’t have unscrewed the lug nut even if I had the right piece. So I sat in my car, and started to dial the number for AAA. The feeling of defeat started to settle in along with the feeling to my fingers and toes.

AAA rep: “hello thank you for calling AAA, are you in a safe location?”
Me: “yes.”
AAA rep: “good, can I please have your membership number?”
Me: “sure, blah blah blah.”
AAA rep: “great, where are you located right now?”
Me: “Gladstone, NJ.”
AAA rep: “Then why are you calling the Buffalo, NY office?”
Me: “Because that’s the number on my AAA card. I’m from upstate NY.”
AAA rep: “OK, well I can’t help you.” (Big F-ing surprise.) “I’ll have to transfer you to the NJ office.”
Me: “OK, thanks.”

So I went through the situation with the NJ AAA rep, and explained that my problem had to do with an anti-theft lug nut, to make sure they would even be able to help me once they arrived. She explained that they can definitely help me, and dispatched a service truck to me, telling me that he should be there by 6:15PM. OK, no big deal, could be worse. So I go back into my office and start waiting. 6:20 rolls around…no service truck, no phone call. So I call AAA.

Me: “Hi, I called about an hour ago and was told there would be a service person here no later than 6:15, but he’s not here and I haven’t heard anything.”
AAA rep: “Where are you located?”
Me: “Gladstone, NJ.”
AAA rep: “Then why are you calling the Buffalo, NY branch?”

Oh for fuck’s sake!!!

They transfer me to the NJ branch.

Me: “Hi, I called about an hour ago and was told there would be a service person here no later than 6:15, but he’s not here and I haven’t heard anything.”
AAA rep: “ok let me check….yeah, the driver indicated that he’s running behind and should be to you by 6:45.”
Me: “OK. Thanks.”

So I wait until 6:50……..nothing. I call again.

AAA rep: “Hello, thank you for calling AAA, are you in a safe location?”
Me: “Yeah yeah yeah, can you please just transfer me to the NJ branch?”

Transferred…

Me: “Hi, I called a couple of times about getting a service person here, and there’s still nobody here. Can you check with the driver to see where he is?”
Candy (this AAA rep gets a name, and she sounded like a “Candy”): “Oh sure, honey, give me one sec.”

On hold….

Candy: “Hi Mr. du…du……Mr. Ethan (“Dubow” was clearly too difficult to tackle), the driver says he is on-site and looking for you.”
Me: “That’s interesting, it’s completely dark outside, my car is the only one left in the lot, and I haven’t seen any headlights.”
Candy: “Well, he should be pulling up any minute. And he said they’ve been trying to call you so to stay off your cell phone.”

It should be noted that I hadn’t missed a single call to my phone.

Me: “OK, thanks.”

Another 15 minutes go by, and unless she meant he was pulling up from the Buffalo, NY branch (which certainly wouldn’t have surprised me), somebody was mistaken.”

AAA rep: “Hi, thank…”
Me: “can you please transfer me to the NJ branch?”
AAA rep: “Oh my goodness are you still not getting through to anyone over there?”

A clear indication I’ve called enough to speak with the same reps twice or more.

Me: “No, I’m getting through, I’m just not finding any kind of competence or intelligence once I get there.”
AAA rep: “Oh I’m sorry, I wish there was more I could do to help, but I’m in Buffalo, NY.”

I know where you are, lady.

Transferred…

Candy (yes, Candy…again): “Hi, thanks for calling AAA, this is Candy…”
Me: “Hi Candy, we just spoke. You informed me that the driver would be pulling up any minute. He’s not here.”

Did she literally mean he could pull up ANY minute? Like, if he pulled up 173 minutes after she and I hung up, that would technically qualify?

Candy: “Oh he’s not there?”
Me: “no, Candy, he’s not here.”

You seem nice, Candy, but if he was here, I wouldn’t have called back to chat.

Candy: “OK, let me call my dispatch supervisor to get a hold of their driver.”

On hold….On hold…..On hold……

Candy: “Hello Mr…..Mr. Ethan? I have Billy on the line to help….hello? Hello? Billy I think he just hung up.”
Me: “No, Candy, I’m still here.”
Candy: “Oh my goodness, what the heck just happened?”

Nothing, Candy, nothing at all happened!! Why do you think something happened?!

Billy: “Hello Mr. Dubow (finally someone who could put a series of 5 consonants and vowels together to form a word), this is Billy, and I have just been in touch with the towing company’s dispatch person. You’re located in the parking lot through the third entrance on the right hand side, off of Old Chester Road, correct?”

You’ve got to be shitting me! I had explained to literally 4 different AAA reps that it was the third entrance on the right, off of St. Bernard’s Road, if you’re coming from Old Chester Road!

Me: “No, Billy, that’s not correct.”

I re-explained the directions.

Billy: “OK, Let me get back on with the driver and explain it.”

It should be noted that 45 minutes have now passed since the driver reported that he was on-sight. Still no missed calls to my phone. I’m beginning to get a bit frustrated.

Billy: “OK, I explained it to the driver again, and he will be pulling up any second.”

In retrospect, I should have realized that in AAA language, “any second” is actually more vague than “any minute.” But, I said “thanks” and hung up.

15 more minutes, and no service truck, no phone call. At this point I had gotten the direct number to the NJ AAA branch, because if I was confident about anything, it was that I would definitely be on the phone with them again.

AAA rep: “Hello, th…”
Me: “Can you please transfer me to Billy?”
AAA rep: “Uhhh, ok.”

Billy: “Hello, this is Billy.”
Me: “Billy, you’re a goddamn Liar!”

That’s not actually what I said.

Me: “Billy, I’ve been told several times that a driver would be pulling up any second over the past hour, and nobody is here.”

Billy: “Mr. Dunbon?”
Ohhhhhh, young Billy, I had so much hope for you up until now.

Me: “Yes, and I’m not hanging up this time until the guy pulls up.”
Billy: “OK, but I’ll have to put you on hold while we work on it because I’m the only supervisor and I need to keep this line open. Or I can transfer you to Ralph and you can dictate a formal complaint that he will write up and send to your group in Buffalo, NY.”

Oh dear God! Not the Buffalo group again!

Me: “No thanks, I’ll just hold.”

After a few minutes of being on hold, the dispatch lady from the tow company called my phone.

Me: “Hello?”
Angry Devil Woman: “Yeah, this is DiFalco’s towing! Where are you?”
Me: “uhhh, I’m in exactly the same place I’ve been for the last two and a half hours.”
Angry Devil Woman: “Listen, do yourself a favor and DON’T GET NASTY!!!! If you’ve been sitting there for the last two and a half hours, you should have changed the tire yourself!!!”
Me: “I would have, if it didn’t have an antitheft lug nut on it.”
Angry Devil Woman: “What?!?! If it’s got an antitheft lug nut on it, we probably won’t be able to help you anyway!”
Me: “great, well can you please help your driver find me since he’s been on-sight for an hour and a half anyway?”
Angry Devil Woman: “You’re at the third entrance on the right off of Old Chester Road, right?”
YOU HAVE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME!
Me: “No. If he’s coming from Old Chester Road, I’m at the third entrance off of St. Bernard’s Road.”
Angry Devil Woman: “Fucking AAA!!! They gave us the wrong directions!!!”

OK, Angry Devil Woman, please stop being so angry.

About 10 minutes later, the driver pulls up. Who jumps out of the truck, but a kid, couldn’t have been more than 18 or 19 years old, with a big fat wad of tobacco in his cheek.

Chuck: “what’s the problem?”

You mean besides the fact that the total combined IQ of all the people I’ve spoken with tonight is hovering around 70?

Me: “I have a flat tire and there’s an antitheft lug nut on my wheel, so I can’t get it off.”
Chuck: “If there’s an antitheft lug nut on your wheel, there’s nothing I can do
Me: “Are you serious?”
Chuck: “(with tobacco spit trickling down his chin) Yup.”
After humoring me and trying to use his vice grips to loosen the lug nut, and searching through my jack kit for the missing piece, off went Chuck to wander, no doubt, through another neighborhood, pretending to be “on-sight” and sucking on a fresh hunk of tobacci leaves.

So…After several hours of waiting, about a dozen phone calls to AAA, and conversing with 15 of the worlds least competent people, I was exactly where I started….Standing in the cold dark, with a car that couldn’t be driven.

I called the dealership the next morning and ended up speaking with a woman who was not only friendly, but helpful and sympathetic as well. Within two hours, she had a driver from the dealership out to my location, ready to help change my tire and solve the antitheft lug nut problem. He shows up with a bin full of 25 different attachments, any of which could be the one that fit my lug nut. As he’s picking around in my jack kit to get the rest of the tools he needed, he felt something tucked away in a hidden pocket.

VW guy: “hmmm, what’s this?”

Me: “don’t even tell me….”

VW guy: “Holy shit, this is it!”

Me: “You’ve got to be shitting me!”

VW guy: “I work for VW and I didn’t even know where it was kept!”

So who do I get mad at? AAA? Angry Devil Woman? Chuck? Myself? Volkswagen?

At least I know my tires won’t ever be stolen.

Once on the spare, I took my car to the tire shop to have the flat either repaired or replaced.

Good news! The tire could be repaired and I didn’t have to buy a new one!!!!

But…the front tire had a bubble in the sidewall and would have to be replaced.

Tonight, I’m going home and drinking muchos Micheladas.

Pop Off At The Mouth

2009-03-03T09:01:00.001-08:00

I fell asleep with my TV on last night, and I’m so glad I did. If not, I wouldn’t have woken up this morning to see Peter Popoff on my screen explaining about his new, exciting “Miracle Spring Water!”

For those who don’t know about Peter Popoff, he’s a televangelist who has risen and fallen several times over the last few decades, and unfortunately, seems to be on the rise again. If you want the full details of his career, Click here. Otherwise, here’s the nutshell version:

He’s one of those guys that fills a room with “believers,” is fed information through an earpiece about members of the audience with physical ailments or financial distress, and calls them up to stage so that he can “heal” them and show them the miracle of Jesus’ power. Obviously he doesn’t reveal that his information is being provided by his wife through a radio transmitter. He claims that the information comes directly from God. If not for the efforts of James Randi and Steve Shaw to obtain and publicize evidence of Popoff’s fraudulent scheme in the late 80’s, he may still be at it today.

But wait, he IS still at it today! Albeit on an infomercial at 5:30AM, this guy still has an audience!?!?! I watched about 15 minutes of his ploy, and I honestly couldn’t tell whether I was watching a skit on Saturday Night Live, or a real person. Much to my dismay, he is a real person.

Now, those who know me are likely aware that I do not consider myself a religious person. I’m interested in religion and I enjoy learning about religions, but I choose put my eggs in other baskets. So, when I woke up to see this clown trying to convince people to call so they can receive their free sample of “Miracle Spring Water,” I wondered, “who on earth believes this guy and picks up the phone, or actually goes to one of his gatherings?!”

Then came the testimonies. They went back and forth between showing interviews with people whose lives had been changed, and showing clips of Popoff in action, healing people with the simple application of his hand on their foreheads. In the time I watched, I saw him cure or eliminate heart disease, throat cancer, IRS debt of $162,000, another debt of $700,000, and other similar troubles. There was an actual clip of a woman sprinkling the miracle spring water on her head, and then later testifying that it led to the elimination of her considerable debt. It was truly comical, and a great way to start my day with some smiles.

If I was a religious person, however, I would be furious! This guy is obviously making a mockery of Christianity and exploiting peoples’ deep faith, for his own financial benefit. According to Charity Navigator, “In FYE 2004, Peter Popoff received $548,167 as president of his organization and the Peter Popoff Ministries raised $16,220,066 in revenue in FYE 2004. Then in FYE 2005, Popoff received $628,732, his wife Elizabeth received $203,029, his son received $182,166, and daughter received $176,290 with $23,556,469 in revenue.” I shutter to think of how much that number increased in 2006, 2007, and 2008. I don’t care to do the research and find out. My guess is that the number will increase even more in this economic environment. Average American hardships are on the rise, and along with them, the desire to believe that someone or something will be able to help. In this country, more times than not, people turn to God during difficult times. So, after establishing an alarming following in the 70’s and 80’s, being publicly exposed as a blatant fraud, bouncing back in the 90’s, discovering a special kind of water that performs miracles, reestablishing a following, and finding an instantaneous cure for heart disease, cancer, and emphysema, Peter Popoff also appears to be recession-proof.

Well done, Peter, and all of those who follow you.

American Soccer Fan Fan.

2009-02-24T11:46:00.001-08:00

Americans generally don’t like soccer. Everyone else generally does. There are parts of the world where virtually every business is closed during a big match, so that nobody is deprived the opportunity to see his/her team compete. I, like most Americans, didn’t think much of soccer as a kid. I played for a couple of years when I was very young (I presume because my parents wanted something to keep me occupied in the evening so that they didn’t have to), and then spent the next 8 years disliking the sport, and making that clear to anyone who played it. Among most of my friends, it was written off as a wimpy alternative for those who couldn’t hack it on the football field (that’s American football.) Ironically, I played football for one or two years during middle school and couldn’t have been more out of place. I was too small, too unknowledgeable about the sport, and too unwilling to devote the necessary effort to improve. After all, it was basically just a filler between baseball and hockey seasons.

Around the time I was off to high school, my old man was becoming more and more involved with Major League Soccer, a new and relatively unknown league, struggling to earn its place in the already crowded world of American sport. A client of his was preparing to make a sizable investment in the league, and so by default, my interest in the sport began to bloom. On top of that, my school required that every student participate in an after school activity during each of the three seasons. In the fall, the options were soccer, cross country, or “zoo squad” (yes, the school has a zoo on campus.) My thinking went as follows:

“I can shovel shit at the zoo and be attacked by animals indigenous to Hell, I can run around in the woods for a while every day, or I can run around a field and chase a ball.”

Considering that I was already feeding and being attacked by animals at the zoo twice a day as my community service assignment, I decided that someone else could clean up after them. That left two options: Run around in the woods, or run around and chase a ball. After some internal debate, and given the fact that I wasn’t much of a long-distance runner, I reluctantly landed on the sport to which I had devoted much aversion during the decade prior.

I spent the first season being routinely ejected from practice for whatever tomfoolery in which I decided to participate on any given day. It got to the point where my coach would simply obtain my attention, point toward the athletic center, and keep his eyes angrily fixed on me as I walked shamefully off the field. Eventually though, I decided to stop being such a little punk, and spent more energy learning about the game.

In the years that followed, I not only learned to love the sport, but also the culture devoted to it in many parts of the world. I have never known such camaraderie and passion, as there is in soccer culture. Having followed English football (soccer) for quite some time now, I am still truly amazed at the dedication the supporters have for their club, and how they express it by singing and chanting tirelessly throughout a match. When I watch English soccer on TV, I find myself drifting back and forth between intensely watching the game, and trying to figure out the lyrics to the songs being sung in the crowd, to a tune which is sometimes familiar, sometimes not.

Recently, I was reminded of all of this, while at Nevada Smith’s watching Manchester United take on Blackburn Rovers. Nevada Smith’s (2nd Ave b/w 11th and 12th streets) is a bar in New York City which is home to many displaced Manchester natives and other United fans during matches. The walls are papered with United paraphernalia and posters, and the raucous chants from within can be heard before you turn the corner onto 2nd Ave. Even for those who don’t like soccer, I defy you to watch a game at Nevada Smith’s one Saturday or Sunday afternoon, and not enjoy yourself (WARNING: This applies to men only. Nevada Smith’s is completely dark, scorching hot, and smells something fierce of stale beer. I made the mistake of bringing two women with me this past weekend, and they didn’t feel the same way I do about the experience.) The video below gives you an idea of what you would be in for. Then imagine that same passion expanded throughout a stadium filled with 60,000-80,000 equally devoted supporters. Whether you’re a soccer fan or not, you should at least consider being a fan of soccer fans.

Also, Check out Bill Buford's book, "Among The Thugs," about English soccer culture in the 1980's.

Real

2009-02-09T18:59:00.000-08:00

After watching the first press conference hosted by President Barack Obama, I don’t know that I am much more informed about his economic, foreign, or numerous domestic policies than I was, before watching. Nor am I surprised about his absence of support for performance enhancing substances in Major League Baseball. But, Obama’s appearance in front of the press tonight wasn’t about that. It was about making us more comfortable with what we have faced, what we are facing, and most importantly, what we have yet to face.

It’s likely that some watched tonight and felt less confident about the state of our nation. Our president spoke openly about the severity of multiple dangers that our country is encountering. And he made no secret about the uphill battle we face in overcoming them. He even acknowledged that the recovery plans for which he his urging approval from congress, are almost definitely peppered with unknown faults. Anyone who was looking for Obama to shock us with uplifting, surprisingly optimistic news about the next four years is, no doubt, disappointed.

What one deducts from Obama’s press conference tonight, is completely dependent upon what one heard. Some heard harsh reality. Some heard evidence of the same political tug-of-war that has plagued progress in our country for generation upon generation. Some heard promises that sound dissonantly similar to those which have come up empty in recent history. I heard a bit of all of those things. Overwhelmingly, though, I heard a change in tone. I heard candidness; I heard humility; I heard willingness for new ideas and a commitment to progress.

I’m not a democrat. Nor am I republican. I’m a realist. And what I care about, is that the people running our country are two of the three (hint: you cannot be both a democrat and republican.) I feel better about the state of our nation tonight, not because the substance of the press conference was positive in nature, but because the message behind it, was one of reality. It’s something I haven’t felt in recent years, and it’s certainly welcome.

Complaint Letter of the Year

2009-02-05T12:23:00.000-08:00

Below is supposedly a copy of a letter that won a competition in UK as complaint letter of the year. I only wish there was a way to make a livelihood writing such letters...

Dear Cretins,
I have been an NTL customer since 9th July 2001, when I signed up for
your 3-in-one deal for cable TV, cable modem, and telephone. During this
three-month period I have encountered inadequacy of service which I had
not previously considered possible, as well as ignorance and stupidity
of monolithic proportions. Please allow me to provide specific details,
so that you can either pursue your professional perogative, and seek to
rectify these difficulties - or more likely (I suspect) so that you can
have some entertaining reading material as you while away the working
day smoking B&H and drinking vendor-coffee on the bog in your office:
My initial installation was cancelled without warning, resulting in my
spending an entire Saturday sitting on my fat arse waiting for your
technician to arrive. When he did not arrive, I spent a further 57
minutes listening to your infuriating hold music, and the even more
an
noying Scottish robot woman telling me to look at your helpful
website....HOW?
I alleviated the boredom by playing with my testicles for a few minutes
- an activity at which you are no-doubt both familiar and highly adept.
The rescheduled installation then took place some two weeks later,
although the technician did forget to bring a number of vital tools -
such as a drill-bit, and his cerebrum. Two weeks later, my cable modem
had still not arrived. After 15 telephone calls over 4 weeks my modem
arrived... six weeks after I had requested it, and begun to pay for it.
I estimate your internet server's downtime is roughly 35%... hours
between about 6pm -midnight, Mon-Fri, and most of the weekend. I am
still waiting for my telephone connection. I have made 9 calls on my
mobile to your no-help line, and have been unhelpfully transferred to a
variety of disinterested individuals, who are it seems also highly
skilled bollock jugglers.
I have been informed that a telephone line is available (and someone
will call me back); that no telephone line is available (and someone
will call me back); that I will be transferred to someone who knows
whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been cut off);
that I will be transferred to someone (and then been redirected to an
answer machine informing me that your office is closed); that I will be
transferred to someone and then been redirected to the irritating
Scottish robot woman...and several other variations on this theme.
Doubtless you are no longer reading this letter, as you have at least a
thousand other dissatisfied customers to ignore, and also another one of
those crucially important testicle-moments to attend to. Frankly I don't
care, it's far more satisfying as a customer to voice my frustration's
in print than to shout them at your unending hold music. Forgive me,
therefore, if I continue.
I thought BT were shit, that they had attained the holy piss-pot of godawful
customer relations, that no-one, anywhere, ever, could be more
disinterested, less helpful or more obstructive to delivering service to
their customers. That's why I chose NTL, and because, well, there isn't
anyone else is there? How surprised I therefore was, when I discovered
to my considerable dissatisfaction and disappointment what a useless
shower of bastards you truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of
distended rectum incompetents of the highest order.
British Telecom - wankers though they are - shine like brilliant beacons
of success, in the filthy puss-filled mire of your seemingly limitless
inadequacy. Suffice to say that I have now given up on my futile and
foolhardy quest to receive any kind of service from you. I suggest that
you cease any potential future attempts to extort payment from me for
the services which you have so pointedly and catastrophically failed to
deliver - any such activity will be greeted initially with hilarity and
disbelief quickly be replaced by derision, and even perhaps bemused
rage. I enclose two small deposits, selected with great care from my
cats litter tray, as an expression of my utter and complete contempt for
both you and your pointless company. I sincerely hope that they have not
become desiccated during transit - they were satisfyingly moist at the
time of posting, and I would feel considerable disappointment if you did
not experience both their rich aroma and delicate texture. Consider them
the very embodiment of my feelings towards NTL, and its worthless
employees.
Have a nice day - may it be the last in you miserable short life, you
irritatingly incompetent and infuriatingly unhelpful bunch of twats.

John

Apples to Applesauce Part 2

2009-02-04T05:34:00.000-08:00

Last night I went to Trader Joe’s. I bought apples. Spent about 1 to 2 minutes picking out four apples. Sometimes it takes longer at Trader Joe’s for me to pick my apples because they charge by the apple rather than by the pound, so I really want to make sure I get it right. I finished my shopping and walked toward the checkout line. There was no wait at all. The check-out woman was friendly. She started scanning my stuff. Here come the apples…

She lifted the bag of apples out of my basket and placed them ever so gently on the counter, keyed in the amount, and went on with the rest of my groceries. No raising, no slamming, no throwing, thus, no confrontation.

She finishes checking me out, smiles, and says “have a great night!” And then she starts chanting one of the other check-out guy’s names over and over because it’s Trader Joe’s and that sort of thing is encouraged there. I smile and respond, “thanks, you too.”
I put my bags in the car and drive home. I take my bags out of the back seat and walk up the stairs into my apartment. I enter the kitchen, turn on the light, raise my grocery bags to shoulder height and then SLAM them down on the counter, not even thinking about what’s in them. Serves me right.

Crime and The Right Punishment

2009-02-03T05:00:00.000-08:00

http://www.cnn.com/2009/CRIME/01/26/football.coach.indicted/

The link above takes you to an article about a high school football coach in Kentucky, Jason Stinson, who is being charged with reckless homicide because one of his players collapsed on the field and died several days later in the hospital. I have read several articles about this case, and each has had different tidbits of information that others did not. Every article, though, mentions how popular Stinson is within the Pleasure Ridge Park community.

One article mentioned how students and other members of the community organized a prayer gathering on the football field in support of their coach. Another described how community members gathered outside of his house to offer their support. It’s obvious that Stinson is beloved in Pleasure Ridge Park, and that people are open about their empathy toward him.

In looking for information about the possible sentences for reckless homicide in Kentucky, I came across another article about a man who was convicted of the same crime, and was sentenced to the maximum, 10 years in prison. In no way am I saying that Stinson’s popularity exempts him from punishment for a crime he may have committed. What I am saying is that there is an overwhelming consensus among the people who know him, that Stinson is a good person, and that he is not the type of coach who would knowingly put his players in danger.

The article I linked makes mention that Stinson allegedly denied the player who collapsed, access to water. If that is proven, he should be held responsible and endure some level of punishment, given that the player collapsed from over-heating. But 10 years in prison? Or any time at all in prison?

With limited knowledge of our justice system, or the history of sentences for similar crimes, I have to yield to common sense in forming an opinion about this. It seems to me that prison should be reserved for those who pose some kind of threat to society. Of course, “threat to society” is a relatively subjective notion, and something that seems like a threat to me could be viewed differently by others.

Is Jason Stinson really a threat to society? Do his actions demonstrate that he has personality traits which pose danger to those around him? Everyone is entitled to gather the available information about the case and form his or her own opinion. And obviously there may be relevant information to which we don’t have access. But given the information I do have, it seems to me that putting this guy into a state penitentiary is not the right solution. Aside from the fact that it is a waste of taxpayer money, I simply don’t think he deserves it (again, based on the information I have.)

It will be interesting to see how this case plays out, and I intend to follow it as the details unfold. I wish I had some suggestion for his punishment as a substitute for prison time if indeed he is convicted, but I don’t. All I know is that I cannot personally justify putting a man behind bars, who is seemingly a constructive member of his community and may have made a terrible mistake. It will be hard for many to agree with me given that a teenager is dead, and that his death may have been prevented if Stinson had made different decisions. But hopefully they can at least agree that logic and discretion should be incorporated in his sentencing, if he is convicted of the crime.

Super!

2009-02-02T05:48:00.000-08:00

http://www.nbc.com/super-bowl/commercials/video/clips/pepsi-refresh-anthem/981802/

This was unanimously decided upon as the best Super Bowl XLIII commercial among the people with whom I was watching.

At a time when our country has been waving "goodbye" to its economic zenith for more than a year and a half, jobs are disappearing by the tens of thousands, and optimism about the future is shaky at best, I think the Super Bowl served a great purpose. Personally, I have plenty of reasons to be happy lately, but there are many who don't. Perhaps the five-hour TV event of the year enabled them to escape from their troubles, if only for an evening, and remember what makes our country so strong. From the hair raising rendition of the Star Spangled Banner by Jennifer Hudson, to the better-than-average commercials, the Boss' all-American half-time show, and the "edge of your seat" ending to the game, Super Bowl XLIII was, in my mind, a successful reminder of everything I love abooot Canada....I mean the USA!

apples to applesauce

2009-01-30T11:37:00.000-08:00

This blog thing is turning out to be more difficult than I thought. Coming up with ideas to blog about is tough when your blog has no point. So I quit.

Ok, I won’t quit just yet. Instead I’ll just broaden the scope of topics.

I’ve realized over the years that I have quite a few pet peeves. The definition of “pet peeve” according to Wikipedia is, “a minor annoyance that can instill great frustration in a very small group of people, yet is experienced by everyone.” Based on that definition, some of my peeves may not qualify because they apply only to me, rather than a small group of people. I’m confident, however, that this peeve is shared by at least one other person, qualifying it as a pet.

Here’s the peeve (5th time I’ve used the word "peeve" so far):

You go to the grocery store, find the variety of apple that you love the most (for me, Fuji), and spend up to a couple of minutes searching for the un-bruised, unblemished, well-shaped, most perfect apples you can possibly find in the pile. You carefully put the apples in the bag, place the bag gently in your cart/basket, and carry on with your shopping. You make sure not to put anything on top of the apples or batter them with other groceries, as to keep them as perfect as you found them. You finish your shopping, and you find what you think will be the fastest moving check-out line (inevitably I choose wrong line almost every time.) Finally, you make your way to the conveyor belt, you place your items on it (the apples very carefully), and it’s your turn to be checked out. The cashier starts scanning your items and pushing them to the bagging area….here come the apples.

BAM!!! The cashier lifts the bag of apples to shoulder height and then SLAMS them down on the scale making sure to destroy every, single goddamn one of them! If he thinks he may have missed one of them on the first SLAM, he’ll raise the bag again and throw it at the bagging area making sure to inedibleize (clearly not a word) any of the remaining, perfect apples.

I’ve never said anything to the cashier before, but the next time this happens (the next time I buy apples), I think I’m going to ask how hard it would be to place them gently and refrain from ruining my fruit. I’ll let you know what the answer is if I get one.

Some Friend You Are!

2009-01-25T17:58:00.000-08:00

Is a true friend one who stands up for you and takes your side no matter what? Or is it one who has the gumption to look you in the eye and tell you when you’re wrong? I know people from both schools of thought, and I know which school I am from. The more I think about it, though, the more I wonder whether it has to be either/or.

Take, for example, this hypothetical scenario:

You have a friend who comes to you and describes an argument he/she had with someone. Your friend describes his position in the argument and then the person’s with whom he was arguing. Your friend describes that he was so passionate about his position in the argument that he ended up telling the other person to "F off!" The other person happened to be his boss.

Not only do you know that it’s not wise to tell one’s boss to "F off," but you also believe that your friend was at the wrong end of the argument based on the information you have. So, do you:

A) Refrain from expressing your convictions and show empathy toward your emotionally distressed friend

B) Challenge your friend and try to help him/her think about the situation differently.

C) Tell your friend you would rather not get involved, and curb any opinion you have

D) Do none of the above

E) Who the hell knows

If you answered A, B, or C, you’re probably correct at least some of the time. If you chose D, you better damn well come up with an option F. If you answered E, you’re probably in the majority. Without waxing philosophical to the point of nausea, I think that most people choose their option based on what they think will bring their friend the most long-term happiness. On one hand, your friend could really need compassion and someone to make them instantaneously start feeling better. On the other hand, you might be feeding a behavior that will continue to thwart your friend from reaching his potential, and as a result prevent him from ever being truly happy. In that case, you would be helping your friend more in the long-run by challenging him, and helping to put an end to his unconstructive behavior. And on yet another hand (I know that’s three hands), you could choose to be indifferent, and consequently have a net effect of “zero” on your friend’s overall happiness. Clearly, that is the option that involves the least amount of risk.

I suppose it is impossible to know what the correct option is. And it’s all but indisputable that different options can apply to different scenarios. But for those who have continuously approached these scenarios from the same angle, maybe it’s time to think about whether you are truly helping your friends in the long-run by always playing that card. That’s me choosing option B.

Ungodly Statements

2009-01-23T08:08:00.000-08:00

Ever think about how many phrases we use on a daily basis, that are, in some form tied to religion? Simple phrases like, “Oh my God!” or “Bless his heart.” Or, have you ever noticed how it’s simply accepted that religion is a part of American tradition, even when the tradition has little to do with religion? I have.
Although I think about these notions often, I couldn’t help but think of them more than usual with all of the inaugural events which took place this week. Certainly, this is a glowing time in our country’s history, and there is much excitement about the swearing-in of our first black president. And as I watched the ceremonies unfold, and felt a sense of pride in the fact that our nation has come so far in a relatively short span of time, I couldn’t resist thinking about how far we have to go. I posed the following question to the people with whom I was watching the events:

“Do you think that I will ever see in my lifetime, the possibility of electing an atheist or agnostic (or non-believer as Obama refers to us) president?”

The people in the room quickly responded, “Yes, I think so.”

I disagree. Without looking for specific, credible statistics (partly because I’m too lazy and partly because the results frighten me), I think it is safe to say that the VAST majority of Americans consider themselves, at a minimum, somewhat religious, or at the very least believe in God. Let me clarify that I do not mean to impose my personal views on others, strong as I may feel about them. I truly believe that everyone should have the right to believe what they choose, and there is nothing wrong with anything in which you choose to have faith. However, I don’t get the sense that “believers” feel the same way towards people who have chosen not to have faith. In other words, it seems to me that there is a large constituency in this country that looks down upon those who question the institution of religion. Even the term, “non-believer” somehow makes me uneasy. Isn’t there a more positive sounding nomenclature we could use? Maybe I’m splitting hairs.

Think about if we actually did get to the point when we are open-minded and comfortable enough with the non-believers that we could elect one to the highest office in the land. How would the swearing-in process work? Would we still have to end the oath with, “So help me God?” If not, what would we replace it with? My point is this. Religion and faith is so deeply imbedded in our society, that I just can’t fathom a point in time when any of these questions will even be relevant. That makes me sad.