Ruby loves Flight of the Conchords

Introducing baby Ruby Feliz to the Flight of the Conchords on this Christmas Eve. More on the baby to come.

Vai Tomar No Cu

I love this wig. This song cracks me up too, and the lyrics couldn't be more appropriate for finals week...

Europe vs. The F Word

This commercial reminds me of my only visit to "McQuick" - the French attempt to copy McDonald's (there is a rich topic for inquiry in its own right, but we'll save that for another time). Aside from putting corn on their burgers, they also offered a free CD with a purchase of a kids meal. Being the silly college kids we were, of course we saw no other option but to buy the kids meal. One of the tracks on the CD (did I mention this was offered as a supplement to a kids meal?) was entitled "Sex Siren" and featured siren sounds followed by a sultry woman's voice. The lyrics were simple, and direct: "I wanna swallow your cock. Ohhh, fuck me." Over. And over. And over. I still listen to it for giggles sometimes. Crazy French.

Target Corp. Chronicles

My brother's wife (Hallie...of fried cranberry sauce fame) has sent me on a series of misadventures to Target stores throughout the greater Phoenix area in search of a glow-in-the-dark-sings-songs-when-you-touch-it form of Pooh Bear. Okay, so I went to two different Targets, but neither of them had it. I thought I was being efficient with my website print-out, but the whole effort turned out to be a waste of time. I settled for some kind of piggy bank that keeps track of how much money is in there so you don't have to count it. But that's not really the point of this story.

The point of this story is that all this Target exposure brought back memories of my favorite Target - the one in San Bruno, CA with the escalator thingys for your carts. I'm about to admit something slightly (possibly very) embarrassing, but often I would sneak away from my desk at the nearby Gap HQ building and have lunch at the Target food section. Mostly Taco Bell. Actually, it was always Taco Bell. There were several benefits to these outings:

1. They charged less and gave you more meat per taco than the Taco Bell that was right across the street from work.
2. There was almost no chance that I would run into someone from work (we introverts need our mental processing time).
3. There was always a group of elderly Italian men talking smack to each other sitting in the corner.

The last reason was the real attraction. I started going because of the aforementioned taco value proposition, but made a habit of this excursion when I was studying for the GMAT and needed a place I knew I wouldn't be disturbed in order to squeeze in some math problems during my lunch break. I kept coming back just to see if the group of old guys was still there, and it always was. From what I remember they talked about horse racing a lot, and I admired their camaraderie as much as their raunchy jokes (they also drank a lot of coffee, which I appreciated too). I'll be lucky to have friends like that to joke around with at the Target food court when I'm their age...if they were on Facebook they'd be trout-slapping themselves silly. They're sort of heroes to me.

Pumps and a Bump!

MC Hammer should not have touched this speedo...

A Very Redneck Thanksgiving: Part II

I woke up to gun shots the morning after Thanksgiving, but I thought it was probably just the neighbors shooting at cans or something. I promptly went back to sleep, until the sound of helicopters overhead aroused my curiosity. I braved entering the public area of the house (for fear of attack by my neices and nephews) to the news that there had been a shootout between one of the neighbors and a team of federal marshalls that had come to serve a search warrant for what appeared to be drug-related activity. Evidently when the marshalls arrived at the door the occupant of the house shot at them through the glass above the front door, prompting the marshalls to return fire. It wasn’t long before the news crews were on the scene (hence the helicopters).

I shot a video of the news coverage, but apparently the file is too large to post and I don't have the required software to edit it - yet. This blog adventure is helping me upgrade technology, which I'm slothful at doing, so I guess in a way this shooting thing has a silver lining (if upgrading technology for me qualifies...) Anyway, I liked the video because they keep showing my brother’s house in the background. Classy.



Is there any irony in the fact that later that afternoon my brother and my cousins went to the range to fire off their pistols? They took my 12-year old niece with them for her first target practice. I declined the offer to join them and went with my dad and Nancy (his girlfriend) to the casinos along the river in Tunica. I won $20, I guess it was worth it. Next time I might try the range, if only for a sense that I might need to protect myself during my next trip to Mississippi...

A Very Redneck Thanksgiving: Part I

"This is the South, we can fry anything" was Hallie's (my brother's wife) proud boast when I got to their house in northern Mississippi for Thanksgiving this year. Actually, it seemed more like a challenge.

The first manifestation of this "challenge" was my brother's declaration that we would be deep-frying the turkey this year. The whole thing. I was fascinated by this concept and eagerly manned the deep fryer outside with its two tons of peanut oil and pleasing gurgling sound. After about an hour the bird was declared done and lifted out to share its golden brown glory. And it was mmmmmmm, mmmmmmmmm good. (BTW Bobby, nice Crocs.)



The frying olympics didn't stop there, and I don't think there was any way to prepare me for what came next. Not to be outdone, Hallie decided to attempt the penultimate frying feat: frying the cranberry sauce. At first I thought this was the most daft thing I had ever heard. Who the hell fries cranberry sauce, and how does that happen anyway? My doubts were not appreciated. Evidently cranberry sauce is fryable after all:


Of course I had to try it, and as you might have predicted it was kinda gross. And yes, I drank my wine from a red plastic cup with my name on it. That's just how we roll...

Hot Towels!

A treat for those facing this week's travel madness. If only today's airlines had a similar service attitude...

Thank You For Being A Friend

I wasn't looking forward to this happy hour invitation at first, but upon arriving at the 16,000 sf mansion built into the side of Camelback Mountain, my attitude swiftly improved. Relations with my dad's girlfriend are strained at times, or at least the times when I'm not actively avoiding her. So when she called me out of the blue saying that she was in town traveling with 3 of her girlfriends from Texas I was accepting the invitation sort of under the premise of maintaining family harmony.

As it turned out, these ladies were a riot.

In the photo left to right there's Patricia, Queenie (the fact that one was named Queenie was enough to win me over for the evening), Peggy, and Nancy (the girlfriend). You wouldn't guess it, but Peggy was 80 years old. We talked about her frequent trips to see her daughter in Fairbanks, Alaska, which is a trip she continues to make every year. Then there was Queenie, who's son is an Iron Chef, and Patricia, who's grand-daughter married well (ahem...really well) and lives in the mansion we had the pleasure to visit. The "help", also known as Karen, grilled us filet mignons on the huge outdoor grill on the patio overlooking the Valley of the Sun while we watched the sun set, the desert sky colors enhanced by the copious white wine. We talked about practical jokes, football, traveling, relationships, and the aurora borealis, and I was sad to have to leave. I got an offer to be adopted by several of the ladies...depending on how this grad school experiement turns out I might just take them up on the offer...

Comparisons Obligatoires:
Sophia: Peggy
Rose: Queenie
Dorothy: Patricia
Blanche: Nancy

Tenho saudade pra este lugar...

This video just makes me happy. Who wants to join me in Salvador January 15 - 22? Vem pra Bahia!! I'll wear a Baiana dress if you do.

Burrito Watch 2007!

Something strange is afoot at the Trader Joe's in Glendale, Arizona. The 98% Fat Free Chicken Burritos have gone completely MIA!! This is sort of a personal crisis, since approximately (ironically?) 98% of my weekly caloric intake relies on these burritos (and the liter of TJ's salsa authentica that usually accompanies this meal). I've asked store personel what's up, I've called the store and done internet research, but the burritos have gone missing for over a month now.

I know TJ's swaps out items frequently, and it appears this gem might have gone to the chopping block. RIP lil' frozen buddy...it was nice knowin' ya.

The upside is that the Chile Verde burritos are great too, although a little heavier. I bought the entire stock last night in fear that these guys might go next (they were also conspicuously missing for awhile).

If only I were this concerned about my schoolwork...

Senegal Fast Food

An acquaintance that used to work at the US Embassy in Dakar sent this to me...I had a chance to visit her in summer 2006 and this video brought back some great memories of that trip.

The group (Amadou and Mariam...actually their Malian and both blind) is one of my favorites and played in Stern Grove Park in San Francisco in June 2006. It was a great concert, although the champagne may have influenced my impressions just a little. Good times!

Indian Pizza!

Who knew there was such a thing as Indian Pizza?? I was lured into trying some that past weekend on a last-minute trip to San Francisco.

Sensing an opportunity to escape the monotony of the desert (one can only take so many consecutive days of shorts and flip-flops), a fare sale sent me packing to the west coast. It was a great weekend, but the food consumption part got off to a rocky start. Here's some advice should you decide to place a delivery order for Indian Pizza:

1. Confirm your order frequently. Like every 5 minutes or so. Don't wait for an hour to call them and then listen for the rustling noises in the background suggesting the start of a long overdue order fulfillment process.
2. If you are serious about asking for extra sauce, best to confirm that this request is not interpreted as "we don't want any sauce at all."
3. You might consider reminding the restaurant that evenly-spaced toppings usually go over well. Throwing all the tandoori chicken on one side just isn't fair!

It turned out to be okay, but I have a feeling what eventually showed up at the door wasn't a fair representation of this culinary genre. Better luck next time...

So what do you wanna be when you grow up?

So I'm in my final year of business school and the fact that most of my classmates are concentrating on finding their next job is becoming painfully obvious. Mostly because I have no idea what to say when they ask me what my plans are. I just don't feel the pressure to lock something down yet, to be honest. I mean, I'm graduating in May and if I knew what I was going to be doing already it might feel a little constricting.

However, it probably makes sense to think about it more...and in so doing I was thinking back on all the jobs I had back when I just had to find something to do. And so, ranked from worst to best:

9. Door-to-Door Vacuum Cleaner Salesperson - Claremore, Oklahoma.
I totally sucked at this. My friend JR told me I could make a lot of money though and I fell for it. Anyone every buy a Kirby? Well, not from me you didn't. I BARELY sold one to my mom, and even that was after she negotiated the price down to where I was basically selling at cost. In retrospect she should have been the one trying to sell those damn things. I gave a demo to my high school English teacher and got some lipstick off her carpet though, so I guess something good came out of it.

8. Restaurant Host at Brasserie T, Northfield, Illinois.
Another crappy job. I got chewed out by the chef-owner for not answering the phone with the full mandatory greeting. Something like, "Thank you for calling the Brasserie T, this is Jeremy at your service, how can I help you this evening?" I mean, that's just a lot to say when you're trying to help someone. My idea was to just say "Brasserie T" to verify they called the right place and get down to brass tacks. Reservations? No problem. Left your jacket behind? Let's go look. But no...I had to engage the poor callers with a five minute introduction guaranteed to mutually annoy. Even more annoying were the uppity northshore Chicago clientele. I was once summoned to a table to be told that it was too warm. When I said I would adjust the thermostat the patron's reply was, "Yes, you will." I cranked it up to 80 degrees after that. Who did that guy think he was? I lasted two weeks.

7. Lawn Mower - Claremore, Oklahoma.
This is not a good occupation for someone extremely allergic to any kind of grass. Like me. That didn't really seem to bother my dad though, and as I was eager to make the measly $25 per week he offered for the task I swallowed my seldane, put on my facemask, and hopped on the tractor. That's right. Tractor. I got to where I could manouvre that thing around oak trees and around the large sandstone outcropping our our front yard. Two sheared acres later I had to go back and rake that crap up, which was really the part that killed me. I did like some things about this job though - since the engine was so loud and I was wearing a facemask (think Japanese person with a cold at Shinjuku Station) I would sing at the top of my lungs and nobody knew how off-pitch I was. The benefits ended there. Aside from the $25, of course.

6. Substitute Teacher - Claremore, Oklahoma.
One of the benefits of living in a small town is the ability to take jobs for which you are in no way qualified. Other places get bogged down with checking for things like credentials, but not Claremore, Oklahoma. My college started very late in the academic year (last week of September) and my winter break also overlapped a large part of the local school calendar, so I thought this might be a relatively easy way to make a buck while away from college. Whoops! Those little shits.

Once a male student was being ridiculed for wearing women's jeans to school (remember Jordache?). I got annoyed because I knew his family was poor (as many families were in my town) and his mom probably got them at the Goodwill without thinking about it. I had clothes from Goodwill also, at least when they didn't come from Wal-Mart. Normally I'm pretty mellow but in this case I think I set a record for number of students kicked out of class in a five minute period. There were a few rewarding moments though...like when one student said I was "tough, but fair." I took that as a compliment.

5. Sales Associate at the Gap - Utica Square, Tulsa, Oklahoma.
This job was okay, except that the store was 40 minutes from my house and paid minimum wage, which was like $4.25 or something ridiculous. I basically spent my paycheck on gas and clothes. Then there were the times that I was "on call" and never knew if I had to come in or not, which was kind of bullshit. Once I remember going to Lake o' the Cherokees with my family and getting called in...I sort of checked out after that. On the bright side, I set a record for highest sale when some crazy woman from NW Arkansas came in and spent over $1,000 (this was 1994 or something) on back-to-school clothes for her three kids. I guess she didn't want to make the drive back empty handed.

This job had another very positive influence on my life though - for the first time I worked with someone who was openly gay. I would hear stories about his adventures at a local gay bar, the "Tool Box." Yeah, Tulsa is a classy town. Then there were all the Oral Roberts University students who worked there and were totally closeted. It was kinda weird when they would flirt with me and then talk about their girlfriends. Except that I did the same thing.

4. Football Recruiting Video Maker - Claremore, Oklahoma.
Now we're getting somewhere! I was slight in high school (late bloomer again...) and didn't really play many sports outside of soccer. But that doesn't really matter. In my town all that mattered was that I didn't play football. Always looking to make lemonade, I decided I would contract my services to videotape the kids cool (and big) enough to play on Friday nights. They could then edit the footage and send the tapes to college recruiters. I know at least one player got a scholarship to play at Kansas State through this arrangement. And I got to film close-ups of the football players, so it was a win-win.

3. Geography Teaching Assisstant - Evanston, Illinois.
This was just easy. Grading the weekly quiz was about the extent of my duties, but the benefit was getting to hear the wisecracks the professor had for some of the people in the class after hours. And I got to take out vengeance on the students who didn't know where the Ouachita Mountains were.

2. Sales Associate at Rand McNally - Skokie, Illinois.
As far as retail goes I was like a kid in a candy store. I got to sell maps. And talk to people about their vacations. Nuf said.

1. Church Security Guard - Evanston, Illinois.
I have to credit my friend Slacky for finding this gig first; I got to take over when she moved on to bigger and better things. Although nobody would come out and say it, my job was basically to keep homeless people out of the building where Sunday School classes were held. Since there weren't really that many homeless people, I basically sat in the lobby and got paid to study. I specifically remember learning a lot about meteorology during this time. Oh, I had to turn the lights off and adjust the heat before I left too. I mean, it's not like I did absolutely nothing. Okay, so at times I would read the postcards the choir director would send from his vacations to Key West and Provincetown when locking up the office. So I did that too.

Intro

A late bloomer to most things in life, it's time to give this whole blog thing a whirl. I've always been a journaler so I had to evolve eventually. Allons-y!