They Seemed Like Professionals

Soppressata + Quesadilla = No sleepy

2009-04-25T00:47:00.000-07:00

The results of the study are in. Eating a quesadilla, a hand full of grapes and a few slices of soppressata before bed results in being wide awake at 3:40am in the morning. I did not get paid enough to participate in this study. Come to think of it, I got negative money to be in this study since I paid for the grapes. I found the other stuff. Don't worry, I brushed it off, good as new.

Just kidding mom. I didn't eat food I found in the street. It was in our fridge. For weeks :) Mom still asks me if eat I vegetables and go to the dentist. I should have had an apple and brushed my teeth instead of the soppressata. The quesadilla I do not regret. It was delicious. I can't think of a quesadilla I've regretted. Perhaps mans greatest invention next to the leatherman and AC on subway cars.

There's something really calming about being awake at this hour though. So quiet. And New York is never quiet. It makes me think that nocturnal animals are on to something. Like iPod early adopters. Next thing you know we'll ALL be nocturnal. We'll be like, "ugh, it's so dark in my room, I can hardly sleep." We'll also have to evolve the skill of echolocation so we don't bump into parked cars. There's also the chance we'll continue to be day creatures. Only time will tell.

Next random urelated thought: It's supposed to be 85 degrees in NYC tomorrow. F. That has a double meaning, one of them is Fahrenheit. I've noticed Spring in New York is quite short. We actually had a snow flurry two weeks ago. Now we're in the mid-eighties? Winter, winter, winter, winter, SPRING (5 days), Summer, Summer, Oppressive humid Summer, Summer, FALL (5 days), Winter, winter....

And don't get me started about the cost of prescription drugs or the Yankees! I just realize that last paragraph was the equivalent of an old man yelling and shaking his fist as he talked to his house plants. I'm delirious. And I'm recording it.

I'll close with a picture. Bay Bridge at night. Since we'll all be nocturnal some day, this is what you should get used to:

Goodnight room. Goodnight moon. Goodnight noisy fighting stray cat by my window.

Staycations, not just for old people

2009-04-22T20:32:00.000-07:00

Wow. I'm averaging one post every two months. True or false: Cameron does more blog posts a month than military squat thrust exercises? Wrong. It's false. I just did two squat thrusts. Glad we cleared that up.

Anyway, Marcella and I had a "staycation" last weekend in Manhattan. A "staycation" is where you trick your body into thinking its going on vacation, but instead you stay in the same place and spend just as much money as you would had you gone somewhere awesome and tropical. It's a real treat.

We decided to skip all the "touristy" things because that would be too obvious. We hate being too obvious when we staycation. So, dressed in our matching Disneyland denim jackets and gold lame (pronounced lah-may) fanny packs, we headed to central park. I'll tell you what, this Manhattan place is nutty. Nice place to staycation, but I wouldn't wanna live here!

Check out some of the locals:

The "wizard of central park" or "former investment banker"

Check out the little dog that can walk on two legs!
We gave the trainer a dollar but he must have expected more by the look on his face.

And of course, a singles gathering.

We ended the day with a sampler platter from Chiles in Times Square. Eat your artichoke hearts out people who live in Europe or the Bahamas for staycation!

Babies N' Booze

2008-12-14T15:10:00.000-08:00

Went to a sports bar to watch football this afternoon. It had all the familiar sights and smells. Beer, wall to wall plasmas, and a baby. That's right, a small human person (non-dwarf/midget variety). Actually, to call it a baby was a bit generous. This little guy, who may I remind you is in a sports bar, was of the much newer variety. Soft spot variety. Can't hold my head up to watch the Bills blow a playoff spot variety. If I had to venture a guess, I'd say the baby whom I was sharing a bar with, was at most a few weeks old. What says "son's first moments" better than Barb the lesbian waitress, Hall and Oates blasting from the stereo and the Jets game? If you're a drunk firefighter with drunker wife, the answer is nothing.

Don't get me wrong, kids should be involved in sport at an early age. Throw the old ball around when they're 5. Put 'em in pads when they're 10. Hell, give 'em a mouth guard, a hockey stick and your insurance card at that magic age of 13. But let's keep the babies out of the bar until they're old enough to buy the next round when they accidentally spit up in your nachos. Just sayin.

I shot this (with a camera, sorry dad) crazy dancing bird at a pond in Orlando.
This is more acceptable to bring to a bar than a baby.

October Photo Recap

2008-11-25T07:28:00.000-08:00

Oct 3 - Google Offsite, Central Park New York

aka Grown People playing hardcore Kickball

Oct 10 - Timpanogas Cave, American Fork, UT
aka Marcella is really cold

We hadn't even left the parking lot.

Green screen. Still in the parking lot.

On the other side? Narnia.

Later that night...
Peculiar dating rituals in Utah - pumpkin bowling.

OCT 11 - Bingham Canyon Mine: Magna, UT
aka the whole family is cold

Worst. Slogan. Ever.

Foreigners looking at how we make America beautiful.

Oct 18 - Applewood Orchard and Winery: Warwick, NY
aka Apple Picking and Puppet Shows

This apple picker was 3 feet long! Wow.

I had Marcella fill up on apples as we went so we didn't have to buy any.

No, that's not a man purse. It's a camera bag. I left my man purse in the car.

Don't worry, that creepy guy with the pony tail isn't stealing those puppets, he's the puppeteer. Nothing says good wholesome fun like tie-dye and 30 years of drug use.

We finished off apple picking with my first trip to the famous Katz's
Deli and their legendary corned beef and salami. We split a hotdog.

Oct 25 - Marni's Second Batmitzvah: Brooklyn, NY
aka celebrating 13 years of womanhood

I broke out the old mic and laid down some phat beats for the young people.
I look happy because I don't do this for a living anymore. ANYMORE!!

CHALLAH!!!

Oct 31st - Halloween: New York, NY
aka I'm too old for this

One of my coworkers dress up as a turtle...dressed as a shark.

I encountered this cat before we went out for the evening. He must have put a dream spell on me, because I fell asleep at the bar.

Goodnight October. Lights out.

Pontius Pilates

2008-11-23T21:21:00.000-08:00

I went to my first pilates class last weekend. Went is misleading. I was coerced.

Want to know what a baby giraffe feels like fresh out of the womb room? Don't stretch or "listen to your breathing" for 27 years and then do a pilates class. All legs, covered in sweat, and with a look in your eyes like "what in the f@$k did I just get myself into?"

Pilates is like doing a 60 minute thighmaster session in front of your poker buddies, but somehow more shameful. It was hard to tell from all the "hipstacking" and "pelvic clocks" if I was working out or giving birth (note: if given the option, I'll take man birth over pilates).

Half way through our second set of starfish lifts I was praying that a construction crane would crash through the buildling and put me out of my misery. And if not me, at least badly wound that woman in the first row with that shit eating grin and her perfect form on the mermaid boxes. Some of us are beginners miss capri pants and 5k shirt! I have man parts that make scissor kicks and reverse seal rollovers mechanically arduous, not to mention reproductively harmful.

When it was finally over I would have run from the room, if there hadn't been a line to neatly stack my blanket, sponge blocks and stretching cord. I guess it wasn't all that bad though. Marcella treated us to fro-yo and Zimas afterwards. I hope next week we can do some scrapbooking.

She asked this guy to go to pilates first. Luck would have it, he was busy being a statue.

Recipe of the Week: The Grilled Cheezza

2008-11-12T20:27:00.000-08:00

Behold, the most audicious entry in the pallate parade since the McRib...

THE GRILLED CHEEZZA

This culinary "instant classic" came to life in February 2007 while I was living in Los Angeles. Today marks the 21 month anniversary of that fateful night. And to celebrate this clearly made up milestone I'm going to release the recipe for the first time! No, no, don't try to stop me. Genius must be shared.

Directions:

Step 1 - Never go grocery shopping. Ever.

Step 2 - Think of the idea for Grilled Cheezza and make a special trip to the grocery store. Purchase 1 frozen Digiorno's Pepperoni Pizza, 1 loaf wheat bread (obvious health benefits), and a block of cheddar cheese. DO NOT buy anything else (see Step 1).

Step 3 - Make that Digiorno's joke in the check out line. People respect other people who can repeat commercials in a natural setting.

Step 4 - Put fresh ingredients inside your sweet Ford Focus hatchback. Manually unlock the door, but make that unlock door beeping sound as you do it. Drive the 6 blocks back to your house. Because that's what you do in LA., you drive. Anything further than 30ft.

Step 4 - Put frozen pizza into the oven. Position 4 inches left of center. Positioning contingent on where "weird stuff" is stuck on oven rack.

Step 4 - Make a grilled cheese sandwich.

Step 5 - Wonder aloud why you're still single.

Step 6 - Remove now fully cooked pizza. Make Digiorno joke again although no one is around. Laugh smugly. This type of behavior will ensure your survival on a deserted island.

Step 7* - Cut two grilled cheese size pieces of pizza. Put grilled cheese in the middle of said pieces.

Step 8 - Eat half of Grilled Cheezza. Cry.

Step 9 - Finish it.

Step 10 - Realize that pizza already has cheese and bread in abundance and makes no sense to add more. Realize that previous realization is just fear. We always fear what we don't understand.

Step 11 - Finish rest of pizza to show self that thought pizza didn't need more cheese and bread who the boss is. Cry.

Step 12 - Play XBox.

*double recipe as needed

Dr Who?

2008-11-11T21:31:00.000-08:00

Going to the doctor on Friday. A new doctor. It's like a first date, only there's more paperwork and less food. Can't be any worse than my last doctor though. His office felt like a flea market (lots of yelling and old furniture), and his eyebrows doubled as sparrow lodgings. More clearly put, they were very bushy. Noticeably bushy. In the way kind of bushy. I hope this new doctor has moderate eyebrows. Oh yeah, I also hope the new doctor is good at doctoring. But I'll settle for the eyebrow thing.

I took this picture at a park in San Francisco. He was about to go to a new doctor too.

Steak frites with a side of Colt 45

2008-11-09T22:17:00.000-08:00

Went to a quiet little French Bistro with Marcella on Saturday. It smelled nice and had vintage cork screws framed on the wall. Though her accent was thick and authentic (as it should be), the waitress explained the decor was from sdklsllkd. Ah I said, thank you.

We fussed over which white wine to order, but finally settled on a chablis. That's French for something. Probably flower. Or table. Either way, it tasted crisp and buttery (said my pallete).

Then it hit me. Wafting through the in house speaker system was Afroman's raucous hit "Colt 45." I mean, really? Yes, really. A song rife with colorful language describing fornication, illegal drug use and Dolly Parton. A crowd pleaser.

This is a picture I took at The Met. It has nothing to do with the French Bistro. But neither does weed induced rap from the California high desert. Cest la vie.