Filed under: Cuisine | Tags: chicken florentine, domestic man, dry cleaning
Well the holiday’s are in the rearviewmirror ((c) Eddie Vetter) and now that my abscontion to my youth is over, it’s time for some more mature thoughts. Don’t fret, they’re the PG kind:
I took a couple shirts to the dry cleaners yesterday. First off, even though I’m 22, I think I deserve an explanation on exactly what “dry” cleaning is. How do you clean without water? Is it like “dry” ice? I’d go to Wikiepedia on this one, but that seems like the cheap answer. Speaking of cheap, I don’t know about you, but I would think a raggity sweatshirt would cost less than fancy, prim dress shirts. I’d also be wrong.
I baked chicken florentine for dinner tonight, which makes me feel about as old as anything I’ve done ever. Seriously, that’s not a meal you make when you’re a cavalier young man living on your own. You make frozen burritos and mishmash stew! You drink lots of beer and eat crackers smothered in Cheez Wiz! You don’t make chicken florentine, that’s for sure.
(On a related note, garlic is really weird; I’ve never had to mince my own before, and its like a tiny, buttery onion that kills vampires)
~ beet
Filed under: Potpourri | Tags: beverages, moles, patches, personal entertainment media
- A rustic black umbrella pigged in a blanket of a widower black sock.
- A hand-sized Moleskin (e?) notepad, in which I tally my gas purchases and thoughts.
- Two black pens for making said tally, one of which is from a Hilton from — in all liklihood — the continental United States.
- Two burned CDs. I’ll let you guess …
[over]
- $120 in change, not counting countless worthless pennies.
- A mysterious red-on-white “V” patch, discovered along a frence at Spotswood high’s soccer field. A commemorative Nagano 1998 Olympics downhill skiing coin. A Chap Stick.
- An empty can of Arizona green tea (99¢ great buy!) filled with more-or-less just tissues. It’s like a garbage can.
- Three books, bookmarked by a parking ticket, a party invitation and a slice of scrap paper. If you give up on guessing CDs, take a stab …
~ beet
P.S. EDITOR’S NOTE OF AN ADDENDUM!!!
A few postscripts: this list is not, in fact, all encompassing, but rather includes just the objects in the front portion of my car. It omits items in the back seat (mostly old newspapers, two shirts and a pair of jeans) and the trunk (a tennis racket and things you need not know about); the can of green tea was promptly thrown out, having reached its capacity for holding garbage; on second though, I posit you ought to know about all things in my trunk, namely a work computer that I used (twice quite failfully) to cover high school basketball games in Hillsborough, South Orange and Bound Brook. There is also a dirty sweatshirt from my haughty college days. ~ beet
I’ve noticed nicely that poetic
Imprecisley rhymes apathetic.
I’m not entirely sure why, but as I got out of the shower to abscond to work one evening, I began mumbling to myself The Beatle’s “All You Need Is Love,” haphazardly in rhythm with the drip of the showerhead.
The neatness with which the tune fits into the pigsty of my apartment was confirmed minutes later by an instant message from my girlfriend: “love love love love.” (I of course replied “you hate that song” to which SHE replied “i only wrote 4/which means i wasn’t referencing the song/you have to do 3 or 6 if you want to talk about the song/that i hate” to which I replied “bollocks.”)
So is all we need love? How many repetitions of the word “love” constitute a rendition of the song? Why are college football teams so whiny when it comes to not getting any love? Why does Hollywood love making awful movies these days? Is love truly less than three (type it out …) ? Do I need to show my showerhead some love so it stops dripping?
How much love does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a woman? (Too risque, too gaudy, you say?!? Bollocks!) Is one required to love thy neighbor if thy hates thyselves? Whatever happened to that show “Big Love,” with the guy from Twister? What’s a more exhilarating locale to make love, a yellow submarine or an octopus’ garden?
In the immortal shared words of Ashanti and Fat Joe, what’s loo-ooo-ooove got to do with it? Apparently, a lot.
~ beet
Filed under: Potpourri | Tags: bad cars, good music, new music, old music players
I have recently and serendipitously been reintroduced to the art of listening to an album in its entirety.
The decade-old CD player in my boyfriend’s car refuses to distinguish between tracks — if it even plays the cd at all. Therefore, if you want to listen to to music, you must commit to hearing an album from beginning to end. If your car is as musically destitute as my boyfriend’s, you only have one cd to chose from, and our music du jour is Coldplay’s most recent album, Viva la Vida.
I used to listen to entire CDs all the time. I can still remember my first CD player, bought with saved up babysitting money, that lasted me from high school all the way to college. I would buy CDs from a music store and listen them to death – most noteably, Jewel, “Pieces of You”, Dave Matthews Band “Before These Crowded Streets” and Weezer, The Blue Album. I can’t say if I really appreciated the continuity of listening to a whole album, but there are times when I re-listen to those CDs, and I can sing a long to songs I didn’t even recognize.
Gradually, I began to pick and choose which tracks I liked and which I didn’t. This became infinitely easier with the transition to downloaded music. And when I judged a song to be unworthy of my time, I would delete it from my computer altogether, never to bother me again. It felt liberating to dictate which music I liked and discard what I didn’t. And while my library sharply decreased, I justified it by telling myself that I was cutting out the dead weight and only keeping the gems.
Which brings us to today, my iPod only half filled with three or four tracks from any given artist, besides, ironically, those whom I had learned to love through the trusty old CD player.
And I really really like the new Coldplay CD. I’m a big fan of both the title track and Violet Hill from listening to them on the radio, but I had no idea how much depth and fluidity there was in the album. And listening to it all in one sitting is a refreshing experience. There are songs that I find myself humming and singing a long to that I would have never given a chance normally.
Now, I’m not suggesting we should all return to 8 tracks and have no control over what we listen to. And there is certainly a TON of bad music out there. But I think listening to albums in bits and pieces like the old me would does a injustice to the artists who created it.
So when I saw Kanye’s new CD had just been released, I started with Track #1 …
— Bear
Filed under: Potpourri | Tags: Bobby Helms, Hoboken, Hudson River, joggers, poetry
“”
I am sitting cross-legged and cockeyed in my 1998 pine-green Mazda overlooking New York City on a bridge day as well as the Hudson, which — for reasons I can’t explain — appears to be swiftly scurrying in the wrong direction. (The ocean is to my right.) It is the first of December.
I am jotting down these observations onto a small, weathered, manillabrown envelope. It contains four hand-made Christmas CDs, which are in season but for unknown motives are refused by the Mazda. Instead, I’m listening to Bobby Helms’ “Jingle Bell Rock” on the radio.
I am in possession of this envelope because it is the original vehicle of the once-blank CDs, lent to me by my girlfriend who works at the company below in the city below, to which I have returned for a lunch date.
I am in a writing mood because I have been reading a book of poetry, the title track of which points out the eternal loop of poetry-inspired-poetry. For this reason, I avoided a poem of specific sort, with judgements left to him and you.
I am smirking jealously at joggers, and to them and you I wish a belated Happy New Year (2008) and a Merry X-Mas in waiting. ~ beet
“”
~ beet
An Authentic Document!
Some points of reference: there’s a certain person who works in a certain New Jersey city, who I visit on occasion. Said city happens to have three areas in which one can park; the closest to said person’s place of employ is metered street parking. But I’m not the type to dogfight just to throw away a dollar an hour.
Next closest is free parking, though its equally tough to find a spot. If you make your way another 10 minutes on foot around the bend in the road, you come upon easy-to-acquire, cheap-as-dirt (i.e. free) parking. For me, the choice is simple; an extra few minutes of walking is a calm, cool choice. Anywho …
Whilst walking to a lunch date, I made my way from my spot-du-jour through the midriff of the parking heirarchy, I happened upon a blue minivan with a sparkling yellow boot. My initial reaction was one of sympathy, for this seemingly Target-tourin’ soccer mommy would return to her vehicle with tots in tow only to discover her ride was immobilized. How sad.
Filed under: New Jersey | Tags: bridges, rivers, state highways, Thomas Edison, Victory!
There are some who would suggest that this post represents the bottom of the barrel, wedged in a deep, dark corner of the hold in a rotting 17th-century ship schooner the ocean floor, having been captained by a long-forgotten Finnish miser pirate, who’s only succesful heist before said ship took its leave to the remote depths of the Southern Indian Ocean (he was a sucker for curry) was the aforementioned barrel containing this post. But to them, I say poo poo. My sincerest concern, in fact, is that this idea is instead the pinnacle of my blogging career, and that it’s all down-current from here. Without further ado:
12. Route 18 over the South River/Bordentown Turnpike: This is actually my least favorite bridge in the county, but for reasons that bear mentioning. There are multiple locations along Route 18 in East Brunswick where the divided state highway, built in the ’50s, clearly breaks up what used to be a local road. But the saddest is on the Old Bridge border, where instead of simply splitting the Bordentown Turnpike in two, it rises to pass over it, as well as the rapidly widening South River as it spits its way north toward the Raritan. There are a small handful of aging-if-not-obsolete shops in the shadow of the overpass, and nothing represents the high toll the area has paid for the throroughfare, from the ghosts of Burnet Street in New Brunswick to the halved East Brunswick neighborhood near the swooping, offset overpasses of Cranbury and Milltown roads. (On a lighter note, this point is a stone’s throw from my apartment, and usually represents the first point my girlfriend even recognizes on drives home.)
11. Basilone Bridge: Carrying the Turnpike over the Raritan River, the Basilone is a bland, listless bridge that you’re bound to overlook if you cross it at night. Maybe its the abundance of lanes, maybe its the placement at that perfect spot on the river where New Brunswick is out of visual reach, and the only geographical markers are the faux skyline of the omnipresent Turnpike buildings and the nondescript lowlands of greater Sayreville off to the southeast. Unfortunately, the bridge is too efficient, too well-built, too seamlessly blended into either riverbank. That’s great if you’re the engineer who built it, but not so great if you’re a bridge afficianado.
Filed under: Potpourri, Sports | Tags: apples, Bowl Championship Series, Dalai Lama, one, The Matrix, Will my girlfriend ever post again?
Someone (Granny Smith, perhaps?) once pointed out that one is the lonliest number. For my part, I’d posit it’s more precise to say its the only lonely number, but semantics are semantics. Anyway, the point here is that, instead of a single thought today, I’ll give you the lonliest number since the number one …
1. I had the priveledge of viewing what might be the most absurdly eclectic film I’ve seen in a while the other night with my girlfriend and her family. Looking for something to do on a Saturday night, and with no desirable options to pick from in theaters, we rented The Golden Compass. Without giving too much away, a rundown of prominent characters: a talking polar bear, a cowboy, a horde of gypsy pirates and a fairy witch. Sadly, there were no spacemen or dragons. The extreme diversity notwithstanding, the film raised questions about free will, tolerance and the like. That got me thinking; I consider myself a pretty open-minded and acception, but the one thing I can’t stand is someone who isn’t (i.e. the obnoxious, slimy villians of the movie). Which leaves me wondering, is that hypocritical? How does somone matain an open mind on closed-mindedness? How can you argue with any conviction that its important to be open to both views on an issue while acknowledging the other side? How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop? The world may never know.
Filed under: Sports, Uncategorized | Tags: collegiate men's soccer, Lennon-McCartney, Polls, Washington (state)
… of teams that aren’t going to play for a national championship. OK, I’ll concede that’s a low blow. But hey, the only destiny that the Nittany Lions can actually control is deciding whether they want to lose to USC in the Rose Bowl of they want to pass the buck to Michigan State and take their chances with some schmuck like LSU in the Capital One Bowl. Now I don’t know what’s in your wallet, much less Joe Paterno’s. But I know what’s in mine, and its a new, gritty, edgy, awesometastical Top 25.
1. Mississippi State Bulldogs: They say you’re only as strong as your weakest link, and everyone knows the SEC is the single greatest collective of athletes ever. Asofar as I can tell, the Bulldogs are their weakest link, so no team in the SEC can be better than them. So I guess they’re the best team in all of sports. Who knew?
2. Dallas Cowboys: “Weakest Link” logic applies here, as well, seeing as the NFC East is nearly the equal of the SEC and Dallas is the pro equivalent of Mississippi State. Pundits expect the division to send at least three of its four teams to the Super Bowl. I’d be inclined to agree, except for the Cowboys’ losses to Arizona and St. Louis, the Giants’ loss to Cleveland, the Eagles’ loss to Chicago and the Redskins’ losses to St. Louis (again?!) and Pittsburgh. Other than that, though …
3. Los Angeles Lakers: The Lakers are clicking on all cylinders, perhaps playing as well as anyone else in sports right now, especially the two teams ahead of them in this poll. Unfortunately, they play in the same building as the Clippers, who are just oozing putridity all over Los Angeles. (It doesn’t help that state officials have reportedly been shipping the Kings’ putridity down I-5 to keep the capitol sparkling. At least they have the Garden State Bonanza Tag Team of Quincy Douby and Jason Thompson.)
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Filed under: Cuisine | Tags: Celebrations, Lewis Black, Penn State, Pow!, Street signs
Ingredients:
1 cup angry comedian
2 tablespoons horseradish
5 keys, on a ring and locked in the car
1 1/2 cups airborne sinus infection
250+ gallons of rain
1 plum
1 year of dating
Directions:
1. Drive through blinding fog and Appalachian countryside to a remote-but-counterintuitively-popular state university (Ignore signs for “Jersey Shore” in the middle of Pennsylvania; head may explode) and set oven to 351 degrees. Approx. 4 hours.
2. Mix in angry comedian (optional: 2 cups sleeping on the floor, 3 teaspoons of visiting old friends), and let settle while pissing off young teenagers working the night shift at Pizza Hut by showing up just before it closes and ordering a full meal. Approx. 10 minutes before closing time.
3. Let simmer, slowing adding airborne sinus infection. Allow to settle, then drive back through “construction” in East Stroudsburg (i.e. street cleaning on I-80?) and careen through North Jersey en route to home. Approx. 4 hours, 15 minutes.
4. Work back-to-back high school girl’s soccer games, letting infection manifest further in the mother freaking cold; then high tail it a half hour to see girlfriend’s favorite baseball team win the World Series! Approx. 28 years since the last time.
5. Add rain. Approx. whogivesahoot.
6. Despair as World Series game is suspended for first time in history, pass out from pain and pressure due to sinus infection, wake up next morning. Should be cold and clammy outside. Approx. 12 hours.
7. Wander throughout city in the rain with broken umbrella, searching for place that a) is open and b) is befitting your one-year anniversary. Leave keys locked in the car while you dine, then wait for AAA to send man to break into your car for you so you can go back to work. Approx. 1 hour, then 20 minutes, then 10 more minutes.
Yield, Stop, One Way and Deer X-ing:
Serves with plum and horseradish, while watching old episodes of the Caped Crusader.
~ beet
Of Bears and Beets 