• “Ecstasy is a glassful of tea and a piece of sugar in the mouth.” Alexander Pushkin

    Posted on by The Thousand Yard Stare Comment

    I was going to write a post about what a bizarre, bizarre week it has been at work but at the last-minute I got lazy. Here we go.

    When I was a kid, as I have mentioned before, my mother was very strict on sugar. Back in the 70’s, they hadn’t started diagnosing kids with ADD or ADHD (as far as I know).  I’d had some behavioral problems at school (acting out, talking back, fights, etc) and my mother was cleanly convinced that sugar was a culprit. Either that, or she was trying to counteract my poor diet (no fault of my own) by limiting sugar around the house.

    As we know now, limiting yourself from anything is a bad idea; it makes your body crave it more.

    So I became a sugar fiend. Massive massive sugar fiend. If I had money, we would walk down to Cunningham Pharmacy (where the giant Kroger is now) and buy lots and lots of candy – that I obviously wasn’t supposed to be eating.

    One of the side effects of the embargo on sugary substances was that none of the trashy, sugary, immensely bad for you cereals made their way in. Sure, occasionally they’d throw me a bone. I clearly remember getting a glow-in-the-dark dinosaur skeleton out of a box of Fruity Pebbles (my cereal-crack of choice) and hiding out in the closet with it.

    But somehow, some way, I was tricked into thinking that I liked Kix.

    Yes, Kix. (Vintage box because I couldn’t find an 80’s version)

    Kix_box

    I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t like it at some point.  I can’t imagine how that even satiated my sugar craving (it didn’t). I do recall Pele appearing on a Kix box at one point, and I can’t be sure, but at some point I decided to play soccer.  Probably peer pressure from all the jocks at my school that I was mysteriously forced to hang around. Not sure how that worked.

    My parents dutifully got me a pair of cleats and I played my first and last game of soccer.

    Turns out there’s a lot of running.

     


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  • “It is a very windy, wet and wild part of the world.” Mike Sanderson

    Posted on by The Thousand Yard Stare Comment

    I don’t live in a particularly rough neighborhood.  I don’t think, anyway. Maybe I’m oblivious.
    On the far right is an example of a .38 caliber bullet. To the immediate left is a 9mm bullet. Just to the left of that is a .38 special bullet. And finally on the left is a .44.

    The three on the right I scammed off of my friend when he was showing me the differences between calibers. We had been drinking, and if there’s one thing I’m sorely lacking, it’s weapon knowledge. Suffice it to say that my daughter has been to gun ranges more than I have.

    The tricky part is the .44. I was grocery shopping yesterday (near the organic aisle) and I hear somebody walking behind me. Ka-ching-Kaching!! Something bounces off the floor as he passes, skitters between my legs and rests in front of me.  I look down, and reach for it. It looks like a bullet! So I pick it up and sure enough it is. At the same time, I look up and the person who was behind me is dressed in the store color – and is heading right into the back room. The timing was such that I didn’t get to say anything. What WOULD you say? “Hey buddy, you dropped this really large caliber bullet? While on duty?”  At first I thought it was one of those bullet keychains. Nope.

    So I pocketed it. Paid for my stuff and left.


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  • “A good cook is a certain slow poisoner, if you are not temperate” Voltaire

    Posted on by The Thousand Yard Stare Comment

    Yesterday I finally successfully cooked something out of one of the Bitchin’ Kitchen cookbooks.  “Rockin’ Roast Beef”.  Since it would be kind of crappy to post the whole recipe, I’ll walk you through how the whole planning and execution went.

    Two Weeks Ago:

    I invite friends over indicating that they have cooked for me often, and I would like to repay in kind……in two weeks.   Upon making this announcement, I am immediately stricken with the thought that I might not be able to pull it off.  Thinking quickly, I squash this thought in case it might turn out to be true – not giving myself any room to say, “I told you so” after the fact.

    A week ago: 

    Realizing that I need to start buying ingredients, I start putting a list together and planning on what things I need to buy last minute (meat and probably vegetables). All other (unique) items I start hunting immediately. There was a lot of driving over the week, looking for some of the oddly specialized ingredients.  I went to Kroger, Tom Thumb (Safeway), Sprouts, Whole Foods, and finally Central Market. The offending items that took the longest? Honeycup Mustard (found at Central Market) and prepared purple horseradish (never found).  I guess we’re just big on creamed horseradish here in the South. Plenty of that everywhere.  So, heading into the week, even more stressful was the realization that I need to ALSO clean my house in prep for visitors. Not that it’s ever truly horrible, but it stands to be cleaned with definitely more effort than I normally put into it.

    Cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. One of those cleaning situations where you clean something, then out of the corner of your eye you spy something else that needs to be cleaned. Then as you’re cleaning that, you spy something else…. yeah. So a lot of over the week cleaning done.

    Friday: 

    So I’ve gotten all the ingredients that I need (exception being the purple horseradish) and I’m ready to pick the meat up tomorrow and get all the vegetables.  Checked the liquor stash and realized I have no “entertaining” vodka and I’m dangerously low on Cognac.  Lunchtime at work I headed for the liquor store, one of the smaller ones near-ish the office. (Don’t get me started on “dry” counties OR the “blue law“). I was somewhat disappointed that their vodka selection wasn’t huge – since I’m always on the lookout for some weird bottle shapes. In terms of taste, most vodkas are the same for me, so buying goofy looking bottles is fun. I did buy some Conjure cognac. Oops, didn’t realize this was a rapper-endorsed brand. Oh well, it’s got a nice bottle and tastes good.

    Saturday: 

    Head to Whole Foods and pick up some boneless beef rump and a pint of Voodoo beer.  Start preparations around 1pm for a 5-6pm dinner.

    Step 1. Open the beer. Pour a glass. Realize this beer is the equivalent of chicory coffee to regular coffee. Drink.

    Step 2. Google what I’m supposed to do with pearl onions. (Do I just wash them? Throw them in the pan?) A: Boil them for three minutes then ice them. Cut off the end at the bulb and then just squeeze them out of their skins.

    Step 3. Wash potatoes.

    Step 4. Rinse Mushrooms.

    Step 5. Pour another glass of beer. Realize that you haven’t eaten much today. Good times.

    Step 5.5 – put the honeycup and salt/pepper on beef to marinate. (2:00pm)

    At this point, my stress level is low, but slowly rising. The beer is helping as a topical anesthetic…so far.

    Step 6. Combine most of the ingredients for the Teriyaki sauce. Realize that buying two huge hunks of ginger was probably a waste.  Slice ginger into a lot of tiny slivers. Get halfway through that, realize that this is actually a lot of work. Simultaneously realize that my knife skills have a long way to go. Keep going.  Combine ginger and garlic into the other ingredients and start to boil.

    Step 7. Start making the chipotle mayo. Realized I was buzzing a little when the teriyaki sauce started to boil and I rushed getting the mayo into the processor and spilled a little. Oops.

    Step 8. Drop the heat on the teriaki sauce, finish getting mayo INTO the processor and add the salt/pepper and chipotle peppers. Blend. Taste. Realize that’s pretty spicy. But tastes good. Scoop it into a bowl and put in the refrigerator. I think it was about 3:30 by this point.

    Step 9. Get a coffee filter and strain the teriyaki sauce – don’t want all the chunks of ginger and garlic.

    Step 10. Pour the last of the beer into the glass.

    At this point, I’m done with the mayo, the vegetables are prepped, the teriyaki sauce is straining.

    NOW, NOW is when I started getting paranoid about cook time. The googling I had done indicated that the vegetables didn’t cook as fast as the meat. As I’d consumed a whole pint of hardcore stout beer, I really started second guessing when I was going to put the meat in the oven.  I had about an hour of “known” cook time, then add vegetables and cook until the meat reaches a certain temp.  Then I had to think, “I don’t want them walking through the door and have to sit down immediately!”

    My original start cook time of 4:00pm I let slide until about 4:45pm.  Played some Zynga poker to kill time while occasionally glancing into the kitchen realizing that I might actually pull it off.  Played until about 4:45 and panicked – “I need to get this in the oven!”  Put it in the oven, realized I have no beer. Make myself a vieux carre.  Get mellow and play some more poker.

    So around, 5:45pm, I add the vegetables. I get a call from the friends that they’re running late. I start to really stress out, and lower the temp on the oven as the meat thermometer is creeping toward the expected temp.

    They arrive around 6:30 or so, and I immediately talk them into a vieux carre – which will blunt any expectation of “fine dining”.

    Well, sure enough, the meat was ready to be pulled, the onions and mushrooms were fine. I did have to put the potatoes in the microwave, but I got stellar raves for the meat. I blame/give credit to the Honeycup Mustard for that.

    I didn’t bother taking a picture of the final product since my blog has long since been past the point of documenting EVERYTHING visually.  The meat gets put on a cutting board and surrounded by the mushrooms, onions, and potatoes. The teriyaki and chipotle mayo, and some cranberry horseradish sauce that I found as a substitute on the side.  Dig in.

    All in all, very successful.  I don’t have any closing thoughts.  Gold star to you if you made it this far though. 😉


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  • “The more successful the villain, the more successful the picture” Alfred Hitchcock

    Posted on by The Thousand Yard Stare Comment

    First, was the knife.  Then it was the keytags. Followed closely by my Mp3 player. Okay, okay, it was an old 2nd generation iPod, but still.

    I work in a decent sized company, essentially a cube farm,  surrounded by what I think are fine upstanding individuals.  Still, I believe that. I also believe that one of them is a raging kleptomaniac.

    Last week was a hellaciously busy week for me.  Small amounts of sleep, large amounts of work. I’d arrive and throw all the extra junk in my pockets next to my lunch box.

    Apparently that was a mistake.

    Swwwwwooooooossssssshhhhh. Away they went.

    I didn’t bother dog paddling through all five stages of grief, I’m already at “Acceptance”. So, I need to buy a new knife, start collecting stupid shopper key tabs again, and get myself another ipod.

    More interesting to me is my “go forward” plan.  Do I bait my cube and plant a motion sensitive webcam? For sure, I’m not leaving my sunglasses alone, undefended. Have to be a little more careful from now on.

    Lastly, I need to thank Tokenblackgirls.com for pointing out that Louis CK’s hosting stint on Saturday Night Live last night will surely bring more Abraham Lincoln fans to my blog.  I can’t explain why, but Abe Lincoln is a pretty popular guy.


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  • “Hustlers of the world, there is one Mark you cannot beat: the Mark Inside.” William S. Burroughs

    Posted on by The Thousand Yard Stare Comment

    I just lost $11.50 playing pool, and I really enjoyed it.

    Was hanging around a local bar waiting for a friend and started making conversation with a guy and his date.

    He made a quality shot. Like super quality. Like, the “I shouldn’t be showing this shot for guys who are watching me” shot. So I said, “Nice shot man.”

    He said, “Well, we’re playing for $3000.”

    I responded, “W0w, I need to get in on that action.”

    A little later, my coin-table was taken over by some frat boys whom I had hopes of beating senselessly, but the guy I talked to earlier was like, “Hey, wanna play? $20?”

    I got him down to $10 – because that’s all the cash I had on me, but I was just fooling around.  I lost initially,and paid up, but had some fun. It’s easy to recognize someone who can really play, even if they’re really trying to hide it. So I asked him what pool hall he hung out in. He played it off, but then he realized I wasn’t a real target, so he told me that he had a table at his house.

    I lost, we played for fun then went to $.50 a game. Just for fun. We had some kicks giving each other some crap, but we were laughing and having fun. It was nice to have some real competition. His date was ready to go, but we ended up trying to bank the 8 on the last game….so he was a good guy.

    Need to be doing that more often. With less losing. 🙂


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  • “Tell me what you brag about and I’ll tell you what you lack” Spanish Proverb

    Posted on by The Thousand Yard Stare Comment

    So was at a party the other day, and I complimented this girl on her Ramones shirt.  It was a pretty off-handed comment, but the crowd that populated this party was definitely not the type of crowd that listened to The Ramones. She said, “Thank you” and went on her way.

    A little later, my friend and I were kicking back under the awning when that same girl said (un-prompted), “You know, I really do like the Ramones.” My response was a sincere, “Very cool, rock on.”

    She continued, “Well, you know that some people just like the logo, but I’m really into their music.”

    I nodded, and again voiced a positive response, albeit a little less enthusiastically.

    Again, she soldiered on, “I just picked up their first album………….. on vinyl………… at Waterloo Records ………in Austin.” (Yes, she paused for some kind of dramatic effect)

    Rather unwisely I said, “Oh really, gee, yeah, I just can’t get into vinyl – I can’t stand another format change”

    My friend said, “Yeah, they’re not really portable.”

    She continued, almost oblivious, “Yeah, I totally have my dad’s vintage hi-fi. While I was at Waterloo, in Austin, I picked up a bootleg Nirvana, a Queen album, and a Pixies album”.

    Me, “Yep, totally classics”

    At this point, I’m pretty much out.

    The conversation wound down quickly as my friend and I quickly agreed (before any MORE discussion could be had) that vinyl is superior in audio quality.

    The kicker was that this girl was all of about eleven or twelve years old. Is this where hipsters are hatched? I’m trying to remember if her black Wayfarer frames had glass in them.


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  • “Home is just some other place, with a door and a lock, where you keep your stuff.” J Yuenger

    Posted on by The Thousand Yard Stare Comment

    So those bushes don’t self maintain? The trees need trimming? Who knew?

    There’s some pros and cons to owning a home. (And I loosely use the term “own” since the bank technically owns my house until I finish paying them). People who grew up with parents that enjoyed working in the yard have a good idea what it takes to maintain a full size spread outdoors. My early yard work experiences typically involved desperation (money) and time (summer) so I never really thought that much about it. I do remember my dad finally giving in to having a yard crew come in and paying them to take care of it all. Once you get your own home, ya gotta think about this stuff. Apartment living is pretty easy when you think about it.

    I wrestle with jobbing out my lawn care myself – as I hump it outside clipping bushes that I hate, or trying to coax my lawn back to life. In my neighborhood, lawn/grass care is more or less at the homeowner’s discretion – since we don’t have a HOA.  My neighbors are nice, and we only have one house that has an engine block in the yard, but even they keep the lawn more or less neat.  It’s always interesting watching the reaction of people who drive by while I’m working in the yard.

    But some of the things that some people think about (like how their lawn looks) is second nature. I suppose it might help if had an HOA because then I’d have an idea about what I needed to work on next. “Weeds too high” – time to mow!  My neighbors to either side of me and myself – we’re probably the worst on our half block at keeping our yards neat.  It ends up being a sort of backwards competition – who can let their yards get the worst without looking TRULY horrendous, and mainly who will be the last person to mow.

    I’ve only lost this competition once or twice. My neighbors seem to be less interested than even I am at mowing. When I mow, I think that’s their bat-signal. “Geez, if HE mowed, I guess I’d better mow, because my house looks horrible next to his!”

    Worse, for me, is that doing yard work reminds me of the rest of the house that needs work. The roof. The garage. The back patio. The lawn.

    My dad shingled my old home himself. It was a two story house. Wow. I’m still in awe of that.  He had a full time job too, and worked on a patch at a time. He hated heights (and I do too) so I remember climbing out onto the very top part of the roof and checking it all out.

     


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  • “The first human who hurled an insult instead of a stone was the founder of civilization.” Sigmund Freud

    Posted on by The Thousand Yard Stare Comment

    I’m calmly sipping a Vieux Carre, or at least a semblance of one (no Benedictine), having been enveloped in a haze of nostalgia.

    My car was pelted by hailstones a few months ago, incurring a few (or many) divots in the process. Normally I wouldn’t worry about it – I’d just let it ride then take a bath when I eventually got rid of the car.  One of the guys at work kept peer pressuring me into doing something about it and I filed a claim with my insurance company. (Gee, can’t imagine why my rates just went up)

    I rolled it into the shop and picked up my rental. My rental (no great shakes, a Chevy Cruze) has XM radio.  I can’t figure out how to plug my mp3 player into the car, so I was stuck. This car had 7 miles on it when I got it so I had to program the radio. I found 80’s at 8 and 90’s at 9.

    Gawd, what a trip back to my early teens.

    My former 80’s nostalgia was firmly based in the things that I missed, or the music I really liked. My haze today was prompted by all the things I remembered.  All the bouncy 80’s pop…..minimal guitars.  It’s a wonder how I ever started playing guitar much less keeping with it for any length of time. Each weirdo, bouncy, drum machine led tunes pinged my brain with memories of a lot of different things.  It was weird associating such a random assortment of songs with my life. Not the ones I jammed to (air guitar), but the ones that played in the background of my post-childhood.

    I don’t have much else to add. Except I really want a ’63 Buick Riviera.


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