Thursday, February 21, 2008

Food review: Pierre Buffalo Style Wings Hot & Spicy Seasoned Chicken Wing Sections

First off: I got these from the vending machine that replaced actual food here at work. I got them mostly on a dare, but the packaging gave me hope they could be good.

That said:
You know how people say everything tastes like chicken. This was the opposite of that. The four "sections" in the box sort of didn't taste like chicken. And there wasn't enough Buffalo style sauce to hide it.

And I know you should never trust a picture, especially on plastic bag of frozen food, but what come out of the microwave was scary. Anyone who has "meat" issues would have stopped on site alone. You know how raw chicken, especially the legs and thighs, has that pimply skin that kinda looks like a scrotum? Well, this was that, only partially dyed orange. Me, I'm dumb like that and tasted them anyway.

The plusses: Zero grams of trans fat.
Only one minute in the microwave.
It's been inspected by the U.S.D.A.

Minusses:
Everything else.

Overall grade: F if you actually like food. If you eat from a vending machine, it's probably a C.

Home is where your heart is. So what if I'm a heartless bastard?

So, it must be house buying season, because three sets of people I know (two couples and a dude) have bought houses (OK, one was a condo) in the past month. I suppose it's shouldn't be shocking. I'm an old man, yes, and this is what people my age do. They start nesting. Settling down. Also, this is like, an amazing time to buy because there are literally (no, not literally, silly) a shit ton of houses on the market.

The thing is: I feel this odd pull to maybe start looking for a house myself. Even though the better part of my knows I don't need a house. I'm an apartment person. I like small spaces. In fact, there are times when I think the 900 or whatever feet I share with my roommate is too much. What the hell would I do with three bedrooms? Two bedrooms even? And a front yard? That's why I have friends with houses.

You could argue that I'm throwing my money away on rent each month, when I could be building my finacial future with the added bonus of one day owning a piece of property. After all, that is the American dream, right? 401 K and a house?

There's no point to all this, really. I'm just saying.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder.

That's the headline I would have written for an article, had I written an article on absinthe, which I have not.

I did however drink some last night. I went through the whole "theater of it." Those are Marcel's words and he's a theater type, so I figure I better keep them.

So, you start with absinthe (duh) and a glass and an absinthe spoon and a cube of sugar. The cube goes on the spoon which lays on top of the glass. It's not an actual spoon, in the way we know spoons. It's flat and there are holes in it, so when you pour the absinthe on the cube it drains into the glass, which is then filled with water. This turns the absinthe a milky white. OK, it's still green, but a milky kind of green. Then, the sugar cube is set on fire. It bubbles and carmelizes. When the flames dies, the cube goes into the glass. Then you stir. Then you drink.

According to Marcel, who seems to be up on such things, this is the Chetch way of drinking absinthe. There is also a French way, but it wasn't really explained to me.

All in all it was not a bad experience. I did not drink enough to get me drunk. Or high. No Ozzy-Osbourne-voiced green faries for me. It's not my idea of the ideal alcoholic drink. I like beer, or save that, whiskey, or scotch, or good vodka, cold. But I can see the allure of it. The "theater" of it all.

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Rhett and the city

Going to SF tonight to see Rhett Miller. Hes's totally one of my favorites, who I have not seen since I saw the Old 97s play in Davis in ... 2002? Anyway, totally excited, minus the fact there will be a late-night drive home and I may want to roll over and die tomorrow morning. But I am tough and these are the sacrifices we make, yes?

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Slip slidin' away

Paul Simon's 'Slip Sliding Away,' is playing in my head just now. Well, it's my internal-monologued version of the song, I guess.

'You know the nearer your destination, the more you're slip sliding away.'

***

Beer Pong is some crazy shit, no joke. It's more than a frat-boy drinking game, you know. Well, not much more. But the world series (who knew?) is worth $50,000 for the winners. It's also harder than you would think. I played a few round yesterday (sans the beer) and I looked like a fool.

***

Had some nice dreams last night that I don't quite remember, which are sometimes my favorite. I like the vaugery of it (lookit me using words that might not be words), waking up with a feeling of recollection. That's how I would describe it anyway.

***

Monday, February 4, 2008

Twittering along ... and a bathroom story.

So, I tweet (I'm too lazy to put in a link. It's www.twitter.com). OK, not really. But Fresno Famous tweets (tweet) and that's me by extension, I suppose. Anyway, I'm looking at Kristenn, who is one of 13 FF followers (it's like a cult). She's got some brilliant updates, such as: Will is kissing dirty socks to prove a point... :( I Figure Will is the boyfriend. Not that it matters.

***

In other news: Bathrooms are scary. It's true. Think about it. I'm not sure what it is exactly, but I think it's something to do with running water and mirrors. And bad lighting. The light is always terrible.

Case in point: The men's room here at work, which has a faucet that drips and a flouresent light that flickers. Total slasher film stuff. I'm peeing this morning and the place is silent execept for my pee and the d r i p, d r i p, d r i p of the faucet and the buzzing of the light and zip up and wash up and walk out into a long, empty hallway. It's a wonder people don't go crazy around this place.