LET THEM EAT STEAK

On second thought,

2009-12-20T08:51:00.000-08:00

I hate lists about that type of shit.

So no lists!

Enjoy the first Snow Day of the longest winter to come!

I love snow!

I'm working on it...

2009-12-02T18:15:00.000-08:00

Top Ten lists for the songs, TV scenes, and foods of 2009!

Get ready!

Hints:

Lady Gaga, Noah and the Whale, Little Joy, Peggy waking up in Duck's bed, Betty finally leaving, Lindsay Lohan guest judging PR, the GG menage a trois, Scott's mussels, the tacos from the mexican shack down my street, Sara's chestnuts (and yes, I just realized that it sounds like I'm admiring my friend's tidbits), and tidbits!

MORE TO COME!!!

Happy Giving Thanks!

2009-11-26T12:07:00.001-08:00

The buttery savory tin the oven.

The homemade stuffing is awaitin'.

The taters are a' peelin'.

The guests are a' comin.'

ENJOY!

Disappointed in Life

2009-11-17T11:52:00.000-08:00

Nothing is sadder than biting into the turkey sandwich you so skillfully requested at the deli downstairs and realizing that the peppermill turkey you had only seconds earlier drooled over...has turned.

And that you have to eat said sandwich without meat. Thank god muenster can carry itself.

Weekly Vacation-Staycations

2009-11-05T14:09:00.001-08:00

My job is a weekly exertion in travel, if not an exertion in the hope for humanity's soul, its a regular tour of the outer bouroughs, the Islands, and diversity at its most base meaning/s.

If I'm not in my Brooklyn Heights/Downtown Brooklyn office, the Supreme Courts in Manhattan or the Bronx or Brooklyn or Staten Island...there's always trips to one, or sometimes three, of Rikers Island's luxurious jailhouses, the infamous Bed-Stuy, the Westchester office in da Bronx, and tomorrow's stretch...Sheepshead Bay.

Which, for the lay-folk, is roundabouts Coney Island.

It's far, yo. Like, out-of-my-usual-commute far.

And I have to be there at 8:00 a.m.-ish.

I'm not complaining. I just get to tour NYC in ways I never, ever imagined I would. Seeing B.D. Wong on the L train or a filming of of "Raising the Bar" suddenly becomes all the more...unrealistic.

You wanna know what the average criminal justice system employee is doing on a regular workday in The City...he, or she, is on a train for the better part of an hour, or the Staten Island Ferry, the Rikers Island Q100 (formerly the Q101R), or in line for a $5 footlong.

You get to make new friends along the way, I'm sure you've heard my [(horror and) success] stories.

A quickie

2009-11-04T07:17:00.000-08:00

Over the past two weeks, lots has happened. Namely Halloween. But anyway, that's not the point.

The point is that last Friday, I spent the better part of my day in Manhattan. Walking, eating, drinking, sight-seeing, hanging-out, shopping, running errands with friends that break cameras, and the requisite people-watching.

When I first got to Union Square, and everytime that I do in general, I am reinvigorated and charged to move to Manhattan...someday.

The lights, the people, the action, the sounds, the traffic, the buildings...it has a very unique and magical element.

A magical element that soon exudes any motivation to become a Manhattanite with the realization that no, no I won't.

Brooklyn be where the heart be. It's quieter and convenient in its own way. I don't really want to make new friends because I like the ones I already have and don't have to travel at length to see.

My bodega man knows me. My pizza men take care of me. My bartenders give me free drinks. My landlord is actually a nice man. Buses are actually pretty convenient. I'm almost smack-dab in the middle of the city and only 10 minutes to Grand Central.

I say these things to remind myself that I don't want an overlooking loft in lower Manhatty with all the amenenities. The floor-to-ceiling windows, the elevator making life easier and more expensive, and the world as my backyard.

That would all mean having to start all fucking over again. And I'm getting too old to do that.

I'm cranky.

All-American Drinking and Devouring

2009-10-26T07:27:00.000-07:00

This past weekend saw the advent of homemade American classics, essentially on the fly. Pretty exciting stuff starting with freshly steamed clams in a white wine & butter sauce with shallots and carrots. Colleen got them via FreshDirect for what sounds to be a steal, and Scott literally made them in two-hundred seconds.

Then I made the homemade chili I've been concocting for over a week in my brain: red kidney beans; pinto beans; sauteed beef chuck (far superior to meatless/ground beef/chicken chilis) with sea salt, garlic, onion, cumin, and red chili powder; sauteed red and green bell peppers, a jalapeno, and more garlic; and finally a can of green chiles, two cans of fire-roasted & diced tomatoes; topped off with more cumin, chili powder, and a few hours on the stove. Topped off with shredded cheddar and crusty breads, appropriately coupled with cold beers, Saturday night never induced sleep better.

Sunday was Scott's birthday and we had biscuits, homemade creamy gravy with spicy sausage, and fluffly, scrambled eggs for breakfast. Sometime down the line after "The Banquet Beers," Scott made buffalo wings paired with crisp carrot and celery sticks.

Halloween began early with viewings of Silence..., The Shining, Scream and CW's roasted pumpkin seeds from the jack-o-lantern we welcomed into the abode.

Last Night's [Sex] Dream

2009-10-17T17:46:00.000-07:00

I was asked by the F.B.I. to go undercover and help them out with some heavy mafia shit in the tiny town of Las Vegas, NV.

It started with me driving [in the style of Sega's 1980's arcade classic, Out Run] my much older dad around in my cool, red covertible and dropping him off at the DMV or the clinic. Something not fun. He had a cane and was balding.

So I go to pull the job in some casinos and just as shit is hitting the proverbial fan and I'm being followed by gangsters and I'm running around with some pretty Latina, I realize that I am no other than a young Elvis Presley.

I very rarely dream in celebrity.

So there I am, on the brink of intel and espionage and the chase, getting down with some hot chick.

All in all, it was a pretty awesome dream.

Stache, Chest-hair, and short-shorts. Done and done.

2009-10-16T07:52:00.000-07:00

Why, hello Birdie!

2009-10-13T11:20:00.000-07:00

My first friend

2009-10-10T18:00:00.000-07:00

was a terrier-mutt named Lady. She was white with brown spots.

She was the brattiest dog I've ever known. She would wrassle me down, me being half her size, ripping off my diaper and stealing my socks. Leaving me naked and crying. She would actually feel bad, I suppose, because she would bring me back my socks.

She made me laugh and we played together too. In fact, there's some photos some where of us playing together in Hawai'i, me laughing, having a time. Or running around on the countryside.

We had to give her up when we left for the states. I was four.

AAAAAANnnnd I'm drunk-blogging.

A few things about Halloween...

2009-10-07T08:27:00.001-07:00

It's my favoritist holiday, before T-Gives, before X-mas, and before Boxing Day. Since I'm still deciding on a butole cotume (loosely translated as, "Butt-hole Costume"), I'll impart my Amazon DVD wish list that I will no doubt order @ next payday:

1. The Witches: That part where the little girl disappears in the painting is absolutely terrifying. So is Angelica Houston. And all the kids smell like dog poop!
2. A Nightmare on Elm Street 1-4 Box-set: The first one...is well, really scary and fucked up. Dream Warriors is just fun and awesome.
3. Beetlejuice: I sort of have always had a tiny crush on Catherine O'Hara. Weird, right?
4. The Others: exceptionally suspenseful film-making. Colleen should be that crazy mom for H-ween. But then she'd just look like Colleen wearing dress, circa 1947.
5. Young Frankenstein: I should be quarantined on H-ween for not owning this cinematic work of absolute genius and fright, i.e. best part being when Madeline Kahn shimmys into her honeymoon quarters.
6. Starter for 10: probably the [2nd] best British film I've ever seen. Its about a quiz show and is soundtracked by the Cure, for crissakes!
7. Billy Elliot: this is a HILARIOUS idea for a costume...no one would get it except 50+ yr. old freakazoids and mid-western women who vacationed to Broadway this past year.

Me is Colleen; Me is re-caffienated

2009-10-05T12:48:00.001-07:00

Joe: hahahahahahahahah
its so much more exciting than spanish
YEAH
plus i know if i learnt it, it would piss off my fellow spic
spics get all up in yo face bout that shit
esp in NM
me: about Italian?
they get mad about Italian.
sigh.
Joe: IM ALL, IMA DO WHAT I WANT TO DO
me: what is wrong with people
Joe: YEAH
EVERYONE thinks i should learn spanish
no
everyone that needs to know it already does
so if im going to spend my precious time learning something new
its going to be about enhancing my sex life
i.e. italian
and you can publish this to the world wide web
because i think its both funny and true
me: oh, ok
let me do that
Joe: your coffee is strong like a bull dyke's fiancee
me: fabulous

Joe: larry david?
me: what
what?
Joe: dinner
hate
do you know gavin mcinnes?

Fall Term Report Card (preview)

2009-09-30T07:59:00.001-07:00

Fail:
Melrose Place - (I have given it three (Yes, I'm embarrassed) of my hours and I want two of them back. Great premiere, poor follow-up).
The Jay Leno Show - He is weird without the desk, amiriteladies?

Pass:
Community - formulaic, but eff it! Its CHEVY FUCKING CHASE and Joel McHale...winners.
Bored to Death - besides the beauty that is Jason Schwartzman's hair (notable mention to Ted Danson), the dialogue is refreshing and kudos to Galfaiankiasssas (you know).
My first venti HOT coffee of the season - with a few dashes of nutmeg, and a stick of butter, y''alll.

Good Work:
Eating Health[ier] - its sad sometimes when what you're eating is not waffle fries, fried chicken or mozzarella sticks. Then again, its not sad to feel this great.
Mad Men - the first and only season to make me talk directly to the screen in surprise, shock, and dis/agreement. They're changing it up and its better now then 2 years from now than when we all hate it for not changing.
The Leaves Turning - Isn't it effing nice? But also, a little too soon...even for me.
Colleen's cooking - the more she cooks, the better she gets! I'm proud of the little toaster, I am!

Excellent:
Working Out - I know you're like duh! I'm like duh, myself. But so far...pretty great.
The Sister's postponing her wedding - meaning I'll be able to go next year.
The Stills - still...

A few things...

2009-09-24T09:17:00.001-07:00

I'm not going to lament on the downfall that is technology...because while I and the rest of the world agonize on what has now been approximately 38 minutes without Gmail...I will share the following:

Musics right now: Anything T.Rex.
Movies right now: Anything sardonically rhythmical and a clever cover for heartfelt realizations. "I Heart Huckabees" is a nice throwback. So is "Clueless."
TVs right now: everything keeps coming up cougar, family-oriented, and reality-driven. I prefer to meet my cougars in Manhattan; if you own a family or are orientated towards that type of thing...spend quality time with your family (i.e. not in front of the t.v.); and is anything real anymore? Certainly not Courteney Cox-Arquette's face.
Fashions right now: Ladies, its ok to wear dresses. And gents, it is not ok to roll up your slacks...unless you're riding a bike or the same sex. That means gay dudes have my full authority to highwater their pants.
Foods right now: Autumn means the second best type of food, after summer fare. I'm making mac and cheese this weekend for a birthday party and I promise it to be the cheesiest to date (in the past, I've had a hard time with the pasta-cheese ratio).
Works right now: Immensely busy...but some how I find time in my busy pants-dropping schedule to do this.

My biceps hurt

2009-09-22T08:12:00.001-07:00

But I'm glad they're still there.
Actually, the thing/s that surprisingly hurt the most since I started hitting the gym are...my hands.
Apparently, they've been pretty stress-free albeit helping people move.

Last night, I dreamt that me and this nerdy chick that liked me in high school were getting married and we were pretty stoked, staying at a house on the lake with all of our friends, until someone/thing came to stalk and murder all of my wedding guests one by one. My bride, who became hotter and blonder throughout my dream (morphing into my celebrity crush, I presume: Kristen Bell), and I were about to break free in my dad's old 69' Ford pick-up (weird) until we had to cross a flooded bridge. Which, of course, was flooded by the evil, flesh-eating lake, a la Creepshow, from whence the killer no doubt originated. Needless to say, we both drowned and died and I woke up to my groaning/mummering in fear.

Welcome, first day of fall.

Another wing on the barbie!

2009-09-08T07:29:00.000-07:00

My first weekend as a 28 yr.-old saw the advent of many an awesome thing...such as Sara tap-dancing into our hearts (again), contemplative crabbiness at East River Park,

and, of course, dinner and dancing [re: beers, vodka, margaritas, and a Heineken pony keg!].

It was supposed to just be a small bar-be-que. But in the end, Colleen and Sara had injured each other and Klodi had become incomprehensible.

It began with two grilled meats I improvised myself, with a little help from my friends:
1. Saucy Burgers (consisting of a saucy mixture of worstershire and soy sauces (makes beef taste beefier and juicier), parsley, bread crumbs, salt & peppa, and a squirt of catsup...yah, good, ol' fashioned catsup for sweetness). They were a riotous hit as Klodi herself exclaimed they came in second only to my Christmastime roast beef!
2. (Litterally) Fire-Roasted Chicken (lightly seasoned with seasoned salt and marinated all day in no other than Frank's Hot Sauce). The chicken (thanks, Colleen!) came out juicy, tasty, not too dry, not too saucy...just effing right!

Thanks for the pic, Scott!

Now you can follow me

2009-08-28T11:12:00.000-07:00

at the twitter:

@2tearsinabucket

in reference, of course, to my sparking inclination as i signed up for it: FUCK IT!

Still one of the best shoulder-shrugs in all of cinematic history. I, of course, tilt my trilby to the one and only, Lady Chablis.

I'm Taking Over.

2009-08-26T12:31:00.000-07:00

Monday: Riker's Island

Tuesday: New York County Supreme Court

Wednesday: Bronx County Supreme Court

Thursday: Brooklyn office day

Friday: Brooklyn Office, day 2

Saturday: Driving my 5th U-Haul van around the city

Sunday: The Lord sayeth to rest; I sayeth eat, drink and be merry.

Monday: Play day!

amicus curiæ pizzus

2009-08-21T06:37:00.000-07:00

My personal first recipe shall be celebrated, and shared, with a little nerdery, as per regulations of the high court. Amicus Curaiae, or friend of the court, just so happens to be one of my defacto titles by association...unless an ADA hates me (like the one that heard me talking trash about his newly waxed eyebrows...c'mon! They were newly waxed)!

I digress...

Because this recipe should be shared with friends, as it was last night...it'll prove to be a winner, a trial of truth, and in the end, dismissed as a truly delicious and easy-to-prepare slice of latin heritage.

(In the spirit of thrift and time, most items were pre-made, such as the pesto sauce and pizza crusts).

Amicus Curiae Pizzus

1.5 - 2 cups chopped grilled chicken
About 15-20 leaves prewashed Baby Spinach
5 Campari tomatoes, sliced
3 cups shredded mozzarella cheese
(or for the more traditional...sliced fresh mozzarella)
1 cup crumbled Feta cheese
4 heaping tblspns. pesto sauce
2 ready-made pizza crusts
2 tspns. parsley for affect

Spoon and spread pizza crust with pesto sauce evenly. Top with mozzarella and feta cheeses. Alternatively top with chicken, tomatoes and spinach. Lightly color the tomatoes and cheeses with parsely flakes. Bake until crust is gold brown and cheese is melted, usually about 15 minutes in a 450 deg. oven.

Serves 4. Enjoy!

Ye Olde Timey-Time Party

2009-08-12T10:35:00.000-07:00

~Menu~

Swedish Meatballs
Mini Pigs-In-a-Blanket
Cheese & (Ritz) Crackers
Chex Mix
Cocktail Peanuts

~Drinks~

Moscow Mule
Dirty Martini
Old Fashioned

Shameful Self-Degradation

2009-08-10T06:58:00.001-07:00

Please votes for me, yes?

The List: A [few] Favorites

2009-07-31T13:42:00.000-07:00

1. Mad Men's season 2 on dvd...its in a shirt box for crissakes!

2. Freaks and Geeks. Mostly because it reminds me (all of us) of high school...unfortunately, it mostly reminds me of elementary school because I was a ginormous nerd then. This guy, we'll call Auggie, because that was his name, would pick on me on the bus-ride to school every morning in the third grade. Until one day I went home crying and my mom decided to DRIVE TO HIS HOUSE AND TALK TO HIS PARENTS. Mortifying: Completely. Effective: More than you think. I felt like complete shit when, as we were driving back home so I could hide in shame, we saw as his dad open-fisted his face. He was super nice after that.

3. Trader Joe's White Bean and Basil Hummus (sadly, no link).

4.

With Mediterranean good-looks and taste, I pass this along...

2009-07-20T11:03:00.000-07:00

Currently listening to: Neil Young's Heart of Gold and CCR's Down on the Corner.

Currently and droolingly recalling:
this recipe i found last year when I was commissioned to chefelry a friend's dinner party. It was my selection as second course because its aesthetically pleasing, healthy, fresh, vegetarian-friendly, and from a woman that knows how to altogether please:

Mediterranean (Couscous) Salad
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus 1/4 cup
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 (1-pound) box Israeli couscous (or any small pasta)
3 cups chicken stock
2 lemons, juiced
1 lemon, zested
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 cup chopped fresh basil leaves
1/2 cup chopped fresh mint leaves
1/4 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup slivered almonds, toasted

Directions:
In a medium saucepan, warm 3 tablespoons of the olive oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute. Add the couscous and cook until toasted and lightly browned, stirring often, about 5 minutes. Carefully add the stock, and the juice of 1 lemon, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer, covered, until the couscous is tender, but still firm to the bite, stirring occasionally, about 8 to 10 minutes. Drain the couscous.

In a large bowl, toss the cooked couscous with the remaining olive oil, remaining lemon juice, zest, salt, and pepper and let cool.

Once the couscous is room temperature, add the fresh herbs, dried cranberries, and almonds. Toss to combine and serve[s 6].

So good it should be true...

2009-07-15T09:39:00.001-07:00

So last night, I had my first zombie dream. Yah, pretty exciting. I usually dream about the Apocalypse or visiting hell in the style of Dante, just more unescorty and more undercover (Analyze that!).

So I was at a college party on Columbia's beautiful campus (not unlike the one I was at recently). I walked outside to find my self alone, of course. It was pretty late, I'd say post-midnight...the witching hour if you will. Soon enough, the campus morphed into my alma mater, UNM. Which I'm more familiar with and was altogether relieved to be at, until I heard the screams...

Immediately, I knew I was being chased by a group of zombies because a) there were dead people bloodily smeared everywhere, and b) besides stark silence, there were distant screams.

Horrifying, I know.

My heart was racing as I duck and hid and sprinted across the campus, knowing I was home free to some back parking lot on North Campus (where the hospital is) when I turned the corner to see the legion of zombies, covered in blood, but white as ghosts, screaming and howling like a pack of velociraptors (so impressionable I am).

In agonizing defeat, I knelt to the ground and howled in angst as they began to stone me, which was these zombies apparent subduction of their victims.

As a zombie-clenched stone rocketed towards my face, my alarm went off.

Requisite startle included.

Because I'm a guaranteed,

2009-07-07T07:43:00.001-07:00

Join me on July 25th, August 9th and August 30th,...I'll let you take me home.

the currents

2009-07-02T11:39:00.000-07:00

Listening to: The Sneaker Pimps' Low Five

Seeing: another dark and distilling dreary sky. O, how I love thee, Eastern Coast.

Awaiting: final moves and preparations por la apartimiento nuevo.

Reeling from: Turkey sandwiches, man. Can never go wrong with some turkey, bacon, and mayo. NEVER.

Planning: barbequed chicken and potato salad with a shiny new red grill.

Pondering the lasting effects of: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. It might not have had such an impact if my [crazy] grandmother that passed away last year hadn't have told such long-winded and milieud yarns herself or made my sister and I sort out large cookie-tins full of buttons.

Did you know that strawberries are in season?

2009-06-26T08:37:00.000-07:00

The Law of Averages dictates that life has a way of balancing itself out.

For the past five years (as per August 2009), I will have been laid up here in the ol' town of New York proper. It was ok for the first year. Then I fell face-flat into the proverbial gutter that is lovingly known as New York Shitty. For the past three years, I've been scratching and scraping and gripping and pulling myself out of what has been a massive awakening and growth spurt (that's what she said).

As I sit here, in my own office (the door says so), listening to my musical choosings (Radiohead, naturally), and excited about being able to remain living in one spot for over a year and one month (which was my record until my couch-surfing and temp-living two year stint), which has now been SIXTEEN months!!!, and resigning the lease in July with none other than C-dub, and the upward mobility I am currently climbing, I'd like to sit back and graciously entertain gratitude.

But the little voice that talks to the little boy that lives in my throat tells me that this is to balance out the past. Pondering the reprocussions of future balancing-acts is like searching for meaning in a Pauly Shore movie.

To pay tribute to the universal powers that be, I promise to wear less pants at parties and dance on table tops more oftener.

Friday rap up

2009-06-19T08:53:00.000-07:00

Currently listening to The Sea and Cake's An Echo In.

Great song.

Been enjoying The Meeting Places' Freeze Our Stares. Lovely song.

Speaking of partytime, tonight I take it upon myself to reconcot (a la last last Spring's punch-infused party at my pad) and rename Hop, Skip, and Go Naked punch as Haterade. Because, let's face it, it just makes sense.

Vitamin Water has two new flavours that I was otherwise unawares of: Sync and Tranquilo. Sync is probably one of the better-tasting, sans-medicinal-aftertasting VWs ON THE MARKET.

Not so good: Tostito's Brand Creamy Spinach Dip.

Most disappointing event of June 2009: Finding that KFC's Grilled Chicken is nasty. Given my watering mouth at the news that its flavoured with beef!, it nevertheless angered, struck me, and ulitmately left me in stomach pain in the company john.

Family Staycation

2009-06-08T07:35:00.000-07:00

So my little sister, brother, brother-in-law, and niece came up from the Land of Enchantment to stay with me and see the place I now call home/workplace, otherwise known as the Land of Expense.

Day 1: New York Pizza night, the family...impressed. New to garlic knots.

Day 2: Grand Central Station and Times Square. Dinner at Dressler. I implore you to have their pork chop because its placed atop the most heavenly slice of bacon you'll ever encounter.

Day 3: The Guggenheim and Central Park. My niece wasn't too keen on the quietly walking around rule of art museum going.

Day 4: ALL DAY BBQ at my pad. If you missed it, you missed it. My niece said it was the most fun she had had in NYC at that point. I had had to agree.

Day 5: I had to stay in and sleep cause kids are tiring, y'all. They went to Staten Island via the ferry and the WTC.

Day 6: The one thing my niece was looking forward to seeing in NYC (besides me)...the Statue of Liberty. It is pretty cool to see up close and not through the slew of tourists on the starboard side of the SI Ferry.

Day 7: Rainy day in. Chinese food and Scattergories...family time is way underrated.

Day 8: The Natural History Museum and the DOVES! Dinosaurs and some rock'n'roll ain't so bad, yo!

Day 9: Rainy Day # 2, movies and chit-chat and naptime. Dinner at My Moon...always an excellent destination. The latino boys are so sweet and the mussels are awesome. Try the lamb chop...decadent. If at this point you're at all like my niece, she too refuses to eat foods with eyes...unless they're chickens. Cause as we all know, chickens have as much soul as pigeons do.

Day 10: Last day to revel in family time at Coney Island. I got some much needed sun, my niece got some much needed sand everywhere, and my sister got injured on the Cyclone. All in all, one of the best days I have ever had in NYC in the past five years of being here.

Day 11: I wake up to a quiet, empty apartment and they made it home safely. My niece made me promise to see her on the holidays. If you got to meet her, yes...you are a better person for it.

Day 12: Didn't realize that today is still a vacation day until halfway through it. Damn.

More meat!

2009-05-28T11:22:00.000-07:00

After several steaks and several more to come, I will take a brief hiatus until after next week's DOVES concert on June 4th!!

At that time, I will be far more relaxed, refreshed and revacationed with family fun and, of course, meat!

Verbal assualts and cheeseburgers

2009-05-19T13:32:00.000-07:00

Earlier this fine and beautiful spring day, I was approached by an enraged parent today in the Manhattan Supreme Court.

My findings have been, in theory and practice for the past nine years, that parents are a far more contributing factor to criminal activity than almost anything else...including substance abuse and/or mental health. The Trifecta of Doom, if you will, makes for quite the lovely client to work with.

Well, for whatever reason, he thought I fucked his kid over in court somehow...albeit I am the one trying to get him out of going to prison altogether. As he starts rifling through his cheap bag for what I suspect to be a smuggled murder weapon under epitaphs about my fuckhood as a motherfucker, the attorney on the case gave me those stunned, oh-no-what-did-I-walk-in-on eyes that only your mother can give you as an adolescent boy locked in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time.

At which point, my craving for a bacon cheeseburger and a cold, stiff one was illuminated by that fact that not only did I aptly deserve them, but would have them, and promptly.

And have them I did. At a lovely, little Financial District joint called the White Horse Tavern.

*Tomorrow I chair a presentation to upwards of 300 of the Bronx County's best criminal defenders on how to get their clients out of Rikers Island as quickly as legally possible. Apparently, the Swine Flu doens't make the ticket.

Let them eat, drink, and be merry...

2009-05-12T11:20:00.000-07:00

In a couple weeks, I'm hosting a small soiree for my surrogate parents. The menu includes, though unlimited to: spicy shrimp kababs, grilled and bloody steaks, and baked potatoes with all the fixin's. Sometimes a good, ol' fashioned dinner is where the heart is.

The apertif: The Mortoni

Makes 1 drink

Ice
1 part vodka
1 part Campari
1 part tonic water
1 lime wedge
1 orange wedge
2 lemon wedges

Fill a rocks glass and a cocktail shaker with ice. Add the vodka and Campari to the shaker and shake vigorously. Strain into the glass, top with the tonic water, and squeeze the juice from the lime and orange wedges and 1 of the lemon wedges into the drink. Garnish with the remaining lemon wedge and serve.
(Recipe from Mix Shake Stir (Little, Brown))

THEN ITS EAT MEAT TIMEY TIME!

Tight pants

2009-05-08T06:33:00.000-07:00

and loose morals it is.

The weekend fast approaches and if this week has taught us anything, its that there's nothing to die for and that there's everything to live for.

I made that up. Sorta... Its quite silly if I say so myself.

Not so silly, cervezas. That's right, not beers...cervezas. My love of South-of-the-Border beers has been reinvigorated since my trip to Juarez, Cuidad de Suenos, back in 20 dickity 2. Its really a magical place, full of pan-handling ninos, shady puntas (not a bad word, just don't call your mom that), $2 nachos, and $0.25 Dos Equis. Yeah. It was also blazingly hot. And my troop got to see passed out hobo-penis.

All in all, its a lot like New York, just cheaper and stickier.

Existential Crisis in a Footnote

2009-05-05T09:04:00.000-07:00

Have you noticed that it's Existential Crisis Month? Buy your own Existential Crisis flowers/booze/uppers/downers/brunch?

Everyone I know is on edge, for one monumental reason or another, including myself, (being the common denominator). Which is even more harrowing because I'd rather carry the weight than be mine own.

Creation, destruction. Destruction, creation. Or not. It's really shittysweet and altogether romanticized. Like Space. Its supposed to be this large void with purpose and potential...but really, its a large void. Nothing. And yet everything.

Yeah...toldya!

Dinner on the last night: pastrami & bacon w/ cheddar, lettuce, tomato, mayo, and Boar's Head Deli Dressing on a fancy roll...it's a deli sangwich and I did it myself!

Currently listening to: Throw Me The Statue's "Yucatan Gold."

Currently awaiting: Farady's comeuppance and LC's demise.

Wearing: gray pinstripe slacks, periwinkle blue button-up, my favourite Hugo Boss skinny tie, black grandpa cardigan, and my ol' faithful brown wingtips.

Avoiding: work until 7pm.

Spring has sprang...

2009-05-02T11:59:00.000-07:00

The birds are alive with chitter-chatter, the flowers are blossoming onions, the days are partyly cloudy and musty with with the damp hints of summer and winter...oh, and the kids are fucking annoying.

That means its Springtime, y'all!

Therefore and thusly, is it ok to wear flip-flops with a cardigan?

I say yes. Yes indeed.

Whilst I wait around for some fellow sans-homebodys today to hit up the local flea markets and stoop sales, I download some musics.

Any suggestiones?

The Art of Hosting a Day in the Sun

2009-04-27T09:32:00.000-07:00

5 pitchers of Tequila-infused punch.
Hint: once the Triple Sec and Orange Cognac are depleted, mix with lemonade.

2 Bowlfuls of fresh, best-guacamole-to-date. Serve with tortilla chips.

Cheesy snacks, and conversation.

Marinate chicken and rip apart once blackened.

Turn the music up as the day wears on.

Eat a hot dog if you see one unattended.

Drink water because the sun (and tequila) has beat it out of you.

Massages!

Nightcap it with chinese food and gummie bears.

Serves 20.

The Art of Self-Grounding

2009-04-20T09:08:00.000-07:00

It's rough. But sometimes man, you just gotta do it. Turn off the cell phone. Log off the net. Listen to some solemn jams and not hear another human voice until your roommate warns you about the smoking steak he has on the stove on a cool Sunday night.

It's good for you because a) you benefit from some serious self-reflection and b)watch some weird cable movies you otherwise wouldn't see.

I did get out and enjoy the first true days of Spring 2009, i.e. backyard. But more importantly, I did some drawerings. Which I oft used to do, but gave up in a blind search for immediate satisfactions.

Go arts.

Where is my tattoo?

2009-04-16T12:09:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately, other pressing finances back-burned my tattoo until early summer. But for the meantime, I'm preparing to have two within weeks of each other AND a trip to Europe to show off my tats to the hot, Italian ladies that want to bring me wine and make fresh pastas.

But it will be a slight deviation on the following norm w/ mine own personal tweaks:

Because I have an odd map fetish. Also, Tat # 2 will be an arrow on a special place, mostly because I also have an odd directional theses on life.

Speaking in nerd, I'll go on to say that "Binary Love" by The Rakes is kinda the one song to rule them all right now...

The Love-Hate Paradox

2009-04-14T12:44:00.000-07:00

I've oft found myself criticizing others' hot-cold tendencies as a bad thing. Akin to Borderline Personality Disorder, one of my personal favorite flavours of PD, the oscillation between intense feelings of admiration and intense feelings of degradation only incite one valuable and interesting element: intensity.

This leads me to believe, or rather, self-psychoanalyse, that my boredom with the average has left me privy to a blind affection, and dare I say, immediate attraction, to intensity. Intense hate, love, anger, sweetness, etc. Lukewarm and moderate sincerely disinterest me, but in my late night revelings, I've somehow reacted to ideals of postulated love with, yes...intensity.

I, myself, have come to realize that I am not a mediocre-liker/lover/hater of anything. I either like it, or not. Et cetera. (the fact that i just wrote out etc says a lot about my need for extremity).

This intensity, is short-lived, however. Like, I would never cheat death by bungee-cord jumping or taking a cruise a mile above the dark abyss. Things are just hot or cold with me. Once they've become warm, I simply bore of it and find the next hot thing. This saddens me to no end (see...), mainly because I'm conflicted about my prefernce for room-temperature pizza...pizza that's been left out and isn't cold, nor hot. Just warm.

Me feelings of warmth are under evaluation. So if I seem a pare above, or below, the norm lately...this is why.

You can take the gay man out of gay porn,...

2009-04-09T08:07:00.000-07:00

but you can't take him out of the theatre...

And in other semi-gay (haha, semi) news: to quell an old argument of mine, fall shows are far superior to spring shows...

Middle Man the new minute maker

2009-04-07T12:57:00.000-07:00

Sean Lodge say:

Sorry, Binsack.

Saturday Night Liter

2009-04-06T19:29:00.000-07:00

The pre-party on Saturday night brought me upon this lucky fumbling.
Prepre thyself for a hearty heartbreaking...

“The Village Blacksmith”

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And bear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his haul, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling,--rejoicing,--sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.

----

Maybe we don't...

2009-04-05T17:46:00.000-07:00

We come off like amateurs...some average band trying to come to grips with success...jealous and fighting and breaking up. We're buffoons!

'' Rock and roll can save the world'' ?!
''The chicks are great'' ?!

I sound like a dick.

You are a dick.

I never said that.

Maybe we just don't see ourselves the way we really are.

Oriental Antidote

2009-04-04T11:24:00.000-07:00

I oft complain about the my failed expectations that is Chinese food in New York.

It's either too expensive, or too greasy, or too bland. All of which happen to cure the hangover jollies.

Last night I [over]ordered and opted to get the pork dumpling, steamed of course, in lieu of the chicken nuggets [re: NOT Chinese food]. Well, they were some the best I have ever had! Thay were meaty, not too meaty, but also had a tiny spice-kick.

Let it be known that my love of NYC Chinese was reinvigorated by a Greenpoint Chinesery. The pork fried rice, albeit that odd yellow, was also tasty.

I've been fully recharged to tackle the PILE that is my closet.

Thank the Almighty its cloudy, as well. 'Twere sunny, I'd be agro and not at all thinking on doing yoga-hour in my room, again. Yeah. I do yoga too. Which is basically just me, sitting in pretzled positions that I'm apt to anyways, set to Radiohead or other post-collegiate cry-baby concerto, and thinking...about pork.

Love means never

2009-04-03T09:13:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry about last night.

Around-the-World in about 4 Hours

2009-04-01T07:22:00.000-07:00

In the second season of this little show called Mad Men, at the behest of Don, Betty hosted a dinner that impressed his clients at their quaint Ossining home. Because the Dutch were trying to market Heineken to the States, Betty planned a well-rounded, cultural feast catering to their world-domination through what would eventually become the fancy-boy's beer of choice...in college.

Long story short, a little club that started about a year ago, Dinner Club, with three people and a hunger pain soon became the exclusive club of only five members that either most people frown upon, or beg to be a part of. Longer story short, besides massive hangovers, many a fine dinner has been hosted by Tiffany: chipotle pepper & cheese casserole (?); Stephanie: fennel & goat cheese pizza, and most recently, a Southern menu of highly delicious home fried chicken, mac & cheese, and collards!; yours truly: Spanish fare consisting of albodingas (Spanish meatballs that were awesome!), sherried mushrooms, and saffron-infused mashed taters; and Colleen's Americanized chicken sausage-infused meatloaf, crispy green beans, and goat cheese taters on a bed of BACON.

In my menu planning for the next meeting, I take from Betty, or rather the writers at AMC, a worldy menu...I believe I'll begin with these (I really like tapas, ok) and top them off with a few of these fine American gents.

As for a main course and sides...any ideas? Should I invite a Frenchie, an Englishman, an Asian?

Provenceal Nerd Alert

2009-03-31T11:48:00.000-07:00

Ok, so Oprah has given women in the mid-west the "a-ha moment." The rest of use just come to our senses and are like, "Oh, ok. Cool." Then you go back to eating your taco or would have you.

So last night, I attended an alumni dinner at my alma mater, John Jay College of CJ. The requisite nostalgia set in upon the escalator ride past the library that I used to laboriously hate undergraduate students in for four days a week, that one fateful semester.

Anyways, Sue, my colleague and drinking committee comrade, and I participated in the necessary, albeit, haughty tones of complaint...how crappy some of our professors were, how terrible registration was, how good the cheese fries were, and how we had little to no sleep with what felt like nothing to show for.

But here I was, at this table with all these old, nerdy dudes working in NYC in professions, much like myself. And, I'll just say it, I felt at home. I heard half of what they were talking to me about because the wine was flowing and a graduate from the class of '75 was hopelessly searching out fellow graduates. But I heard enough to realize that, I know I'm nerd, but for reals, I'm like a neerrrdddd. I'm going to be that old dude at the table, asking the waitress to being me more wine, going to alumni dinners for the free chicken cacciatore and "networking" possibilities.

Is this an ego-massage? I guess so. But how good can you be without one every now and then. I challenge you to try it. You have the Joe's Three-Weeks to Get Your Ego Massaged challenge.

Report back.

Saturday, Cloudy Saturday

2009-03-28T15:32:00.001-07:00

And it's dreamy. I oft perplex my fellow imbibers and theologians alike when I say things like, "I don't like sunny days," or "Thank God, its raining." If not for the mere jolt of confusion, then for the self-realization that I am time and again fascinated by people's reactions to bad weather. What I enjoy at a deeper, psychoanalytic level is that these [some] folks also tend to depend their personalities on the waxing and waning of ol' Mr. Sunshine. When in fact, that once pop science go-to, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), doesn't even really exsist. People are just as sad as they are in the winter as they are in the summer. You're sad. Now move on.

So anyway, I tend to live up such dreary days with complete immersion into the arts. Like laying in bed and watching creepy French films or documentaries about the Bronx. Sunny days do no permit this as friends tend to direct social activities to parks and walks. Blargh. There are exceptions to this rule, of course [re: Colleen's Epic Birthday].

Today's art: musica. I am completely enthralled by the Black Kids (besides liking every Black band that there is, this Black band is actually quite antithetical to the whole Black-as-dark theme). Maybe a tad late in this train, as they were apparently heralded as the band to look out for in 2008. They're deliciously good with upbeat, dance-pants jing-jang jiggles such as "I'm Not Going to Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You." Which, if there was ever a self-modified themesong, well, this is it. Accordingly, the Besnard Lakes are my new favorite band of this year. Give "Devastation" a try. I'm just going to start telling strangers that..."no really, tell me what's its like."

A blog about music wouldn't be complete without my concert-going announcement: I will rocking out to Ra Ra Riot next weekend. I'm looking forward to it. Incl: if you don't have it yet, get this track: MGMT's Electric Feel.

Should you prove your love...

2009-03-27T09:02:00.000-07:00

make me somma deese...

Buttermilk Biscuits
Adapted from George Weld, Egg
(Makes 8 to 10 biscuits)

1 pound and 10 ounces bleached all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons baking powder
1 tablespoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon turbinado sugar
3 ounces cold unsalted butter
2½ cups buttermilk or sour milk*, plus more for brushing

1. Preheat oven to 500°. In a large bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, salt and sugar.
2. Cut half of the butter into thin sheets and place them in the freezer.
3. Blend the remaining butter into the flour mixture with your hands. Work quickly, blending until the flour resembles very coarse meal with a few pea-size lumps. With a rubber spatula, mix the buttermilk or sour milk into the flour and butter just until a dough begins to form.
4. Dump dough onto a floured work surface and pat it into a rough rectangle about ¼ inch thick. Lay the slices of frozen butter on top, then fold the dough over twice (as if you were folding a letter in thirds). Press down gently on the dough until it's about ¾ inch thick. Use a 2½-inch biscuit cutter to punch out biscuits (do not twist the cutter). Place biscuits onto a greased baking sheet and brush the tops with milk.
5. Bake the biscuits for 13 to 18 minutes, until risen, golden and light. If they feel wet or heavy, bake them longer.

* To make sour milk, combine 2½ cups of whole milk with 2½ tablespoons of white vinegar.

Your aura is purple!

2009-03-27T08:10:00.000-07:00

So some firefighter dude and his brother sanitation worker were indicted in the ol' Kings County this morn on charges of growing "hydroponic pot." I don't even know what that is, but its out there, kids. Just take my word for it...I don't want to link to the article (although, I did try to find the always irreverent clip from Almost Famous, only to find a plethora of links to some Shakira video about a poem and a horse).

In the dictation of Polonius, this much is true: the NYPD, FDNY, and now the DOS, likes to be naughty. In the industry, we call this reaction formation. Its like when your dad plays video games with you but ends up getting in trouble by your mom, sorta. Or like finding out your boss likes to drink...alot.

This just in, the Nerd Herd needs our help. If you don't help them, then you were cool and popular in high school and are now fat and boring, registering with classmates.com, and seriously considering botox before the reunion.

Celebrity Courtroom

2009-03-26T10:32:00.000-07:00

Can I be the first man on earth to think of this? How awesome would be to see arraignments and trials that only center on crazy, criminal celebrities (I have a thing for alliteration). Nothing like courtTV or whatever it is now, just a show that encompasses the full realm of interaction, by celebrities, with the criminal justice system...from arrest onward. Sans confidentiality, et. al, this could work, make millions, and be hosted by yours truly.

Case in point: The State of New York v. Kenley non-Penley.

BETTER case in point: I didn't believe this would be so easy and good, but it was. Even with the catsup.

"Ribeye, Bloody"

2009-03-25T18:27:00.000-07:00

LostBlogging "He's Our You"

The "He" that's their Sayid was the cowboy in Mulholland Dr. You remember him? He's the one that gave Joe from Six Feet Under an irreconciliable ultimatum. I reckon they wanted a creep that could both be feared and underestimated simultaneously, much like our good killer, Sayid.

The meat of the matter: If kid-Ben met Sayid in his past, but Sayid meets kid-Ben after having met adult-Ben, then who's present is this, and who's past for that matter. This leads me to believe that temporal-life is not the Lost-lesson (bah-ha!) here.

I also love how with Juliet saying she didn't want to have to tell Kate to stay away from her beau, she's effectively still telling her to stay away from her beau. And hot damn, LaFleur...who'd a think he'd be a die-hard convert? Someone fills the standard-issue boots all too well.

And WOW: "That's why I'm here." NEED I SAY MORE?!

Ok, but WAIT! THE ENDING! Ben doesn't die, so...