|random thoughts and thoroughbred selections|
|"All life is 6-5 against" - Damon Runyon|
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
Cool XM Radio moment for my Monday...
I was listening to "the Rhyme," which is the classic hip-hop station. They played, in succession, a freestyle by Erick Sermon, Nas' "Represent," Raekwon's "Incarcerated Scarfaces," and Run DMC's "My Adidas." Three in a row I can kick down the windows and rap along to. Nice...
Strange but true adventures in frozen pizza land...
As is my habit, I picked up a Jack's "Naturally Rising Crust" Pepperoni Pizza for my lunch on Saturday. The pizza went right from the store to the car to the freezer, and I don't think it had time to thaw out, which was strange considering the condition it was in when I opened it.
One half of the crust was completely barren of any sauce and nothing but a few flecks of cheese. The remainder of the toppings was piled on the other half of the crust.
I don't know that this could have been anything but a quality problem off the line there at Kraft. I would assume if the pizza had been made correctly that if a thaw-and-slide had happened that streaks of sauce would have been left behind, or at bare minimum a discoloration of the crust.
But it was completely clean.
I spent the next ten minutes performing delicate surgery on the pizza. I took the pepperoni slices off and neatly stacked them to the side. Then, I removed the cheese that was loose on the pie, and was left with a thick frozen pile of sauce with cheese shreds that was frozen to both the base of the crust as well as to the edges around that half as well. Using the best tool I could find for the job (butter knife), I chipped away at the sauce tundra, and managed to spread the sauce shards I had jarred loose to the other side of the crust. Replacing the cheese and pepperoni, I put it in the oven, and was not at all disappointed with the results.
Like any good consumer, I figured getting an imperfect product gave me every right to get a free one from the Kraft people. Last night, armed with the UPC code and packaging information, I called the Jack's Pizza Kraft Consumer Tips line, and explained my problem. Surprisingly, the operator took ownership of the error on behalf of Kraft, identifying an error in their machinery that was probably the culprit. At the end of the conversation, she got my address to send me a reimbursement (I'd have taken a free pizza too), and I'd assume a vast mess of Kraft coupons for my trouble.
Thus ends my pizza adventure.
Monday, July 21, 2003
One of the major (MAJOR) drawbacks of getting divorced and starting a life over from scratch has to be the lack of available sex. Now, seeing as my ex-wife was falling in love with someone else, I hadn't been getting it very often near the end anyway. If we're trying to do the math here, the last time I had sex was probably in early to mid December, in the bathroom of a bar. 2001. So, even though my last time was memorable for the location in which it took place, it would have stuck with me anyway as "the last time." Not with her, just in general.
So, it gets me thinking a little bit about getting laid. Since I can still count the women with whom I've slept with on one hand (yes, I'm admitting that), it's not a great deal of time that I need to spend dwelling on the past. Let's run through, in order, shall we?
First, we have "What the Hell Girl." She earned that title after I spent nearly an entire summer pursuing her to no avail, only to have her basically rip my clothes off when we were both pretty drunk at a small gathering very late in the summer at my parents' house. Our performance that night started on a twin sized waterbed, moved to the floor directly above where my parents were sleeping, then to my car, where we went again for about the ninth time that night in the front seat of my Ford Tempo right in front of her mom's condo. She truly became "What the Hell Girl" when our relationship never moved past sex, and got really boring really quick. She told me she didn't like foreplay, so I quit trying. It got mechanical and bad, but we kept rutting for months. Two big low points for me on the tail end of this one. First, running into her at a party where she tells me, in front of her current boyfriend, "I know how it could be better for you." (YEAH, I DO TOO, I JUST DIDN'T GIVE A SHIT) And secondly, making an awkward pass at her roommate, who definitely had to know how boring and terrible the sex between us was. No way in hell is that girl jumping on for a ride.
Next comes "The Stripper With the Heart of Coal." One of my best friends fell in love with this girl during his sophomore year at college. Even though they were just friends, he decided to profess his true love by giving her an antique key on a rope as a necklace. She asked him what it was for, and he reveals a tattoo on his leg that is a heart with a keyhole and a fissure down the top. In other words, "the key to his heart." Cut to three years later. I'm sharing a house with this friend, and he brings this girl over to smoke with us and play euchre. So I meet this girl over a bong, and we end up making out like teenagers while the credits to "Soul Man," that bad C. Thomas Howell movie, play out in the background. The only reason I remember that is that there was some cheesy ballad running over the credits, and I found it to be a simply perfectly corny ending to an interesting day. Anyway, we were pretty cute for a little while, and meshed pretty well right off. I don't remember much about the sex being spectacular. But I do remember a couple of times that it wasn't spectacular that she would sulk and act like a spoiled little bitch (well, she did). Just to give you an idea as to how no man would ever be good enough for this girl, I'll refer you to the Chicken Soup Episode. She calls me one morning, sounding sick as hell. I ask her if she needs anything. She says some soup would be nice. I ask her what kind. She says "whatever." So I go to a nice deli and get a quart of chicken soup. You know, what you get for sick people when they ask you for soup. So I go over there, and present her with this relatively expensive quart of soup. She proceeds to scream at me for being an idiot and not getting her the right kind of soup, and then pours it down the sink right in front of me. What a bitch. We've kissed and made up since, but I wouldn't trust the girl as far as I could throw her.
Then there was "Hostess Girl." Man oh man was this fun while it lasted. Pretty much the only girl I've ever been with who was so good at what she did that she made everybody on the floor better (like that basketball analogy?). Although we only slept together a handful of times, each and every time stands out for me individually in my memory. I definitely can't say that about any single time with the Stripper, and I can pull only one time from What the Hell Girl, and only a couple from the years spent with my ex-wife. This girl turned me on like no other has. I can remember peaches, pseudo-bondage with bedding, quickies before work, getting barely through the front door and hitting the floor six feet before the bed because we couldn't make it all the way there. We met in the restaurant in which we both worked, and she flirted with me so hard that I finally just called her bluff, and boom, we were sleeping together. The one thing that ruined this is that she was moving too quickly into relationship mode, and frankly, we weren't going to get all the way there anyway. Man, what I still wouldn't do to this girl.
And then there's Ex-Wife. I think we both got bored of each other pretty quickly and shouldn't have been married except for our initial friendship. She was way too self conscious about her body and wasn't comfortable just being naked without being covered. That, and her usual lack of lingerie got old after awhile. We probably weren't compatible anyway, as I think I need a woman that can raise my game, and this one wasn't like that.
So, I've been dry awhile, and it has crossed my mind many, many times about getting in touch with Hostess Girl, as I think I know where to find her. Chances are though, the statute of limitations on that have flown right the hell out the window.
Verne "Mini-Me" Troyer and his fiancee?
Again, proving my "ugly people at the mall" theory. Have you ever been to the mall and seen two ugly people holding hands and looking happy as can be? Well, that's my "ugly people at the mall" theory. I guess it's the bastard child of the "there's someone for everyone" postulate, but I have made it my own.
So Troyer gets a six foot model. I've been reading for years that he's a horny little bastard who had hit on every woman in sight at parties. Good for him, finally landing one.
That doesn't mean I get this, but oh well...
Sunday, July 20, 2003
With Eminem, real musicians get a bum rap
Middle to upper class white adults should not be able to comment on hip-hop in newspapers. Especially not Mitch Albom, that snarky little son of a bitch. Basically, you admit you don't understand what's going on, but you write about that "as is," rather than making an effort to understand? That doesn't make any sense to me.
Embarrassing XM Radio moment of my week:
So I'm on my way out of rehearsal the other night, and there's a few of us walking to our cars. I guess I was probably "jamming" to some Sinatra or Tony Bennett on the "Frank's Place" channel (for standards and jazz singers) on my way in, and I had my radio kicked up a little loud to be certain. So I kick on the ignition and JUDY GARLAND comes blaring out my speakers and through my open windows into the parking lot. Everyone turned to look as I quickly hit the button to move to the uncensored rap channel.
Dammit. Too many 19 year old girls in that play, so few chances to look cool as a 29 year old "old man" in the show.
BLOGGER :: Recently Updated Blogs
Wandering through the blog universe? Make this your next stop. This is every blog updated in the last ten minutes!
SECRET ROMEO GOES DOWN AGAIN!: "
4 Goldinrunner: rallied 5 wide far turn,up late,strong drive
3 American Deputy: rallied 4 wide 3/16,outfinished
6 Lite Up: rallied 3 wide 1/8,outfinished
1 Secret Romeo: unrushed early,bid 3 wide 7/16,dueled,clear stretch,gave way
2 Above the Wind: squeezed back start,evenly
5 Jethro Blue: dueled inside,dug in,gave way stretch
7 Deputy Stripe: dueled,couldn't last
8 That Gift: forward factor early,faded"
This is HUGE. Last night in the Michigan Breeders Handicap $45k stakes race at GLD, Secret Romeo was a heavy favorite (1:5 at least) in the 1 and 1/16 mile race. He ran his usual race, stalking the field from the back, and pulled up at the 3/4 pole to be one length behind Jethro Blue. Into the stretch, Romeo and Blue dueled, but both were passed by Goldinrunner, who finished first, a neck ahead of a dead heat for second between American Deputy and Lite Up.
Goldinrunner went off at 45-1, American Deputy at 26-1, and Lite Up at 8-1.
So, since Secret Romeo's first race at GLD this season, which he lost at six furlongs to American Deputy, he is winless with a smattering of seconds and now a third.
And, of course, Wade Freaking Rini (Goldinrunner's jockey) now has a stakes win under his belt.
Maybe it's time to pick a new favorite horse at GLD?
nin3t33n ----- eternal loneliness: times of mourning DAMSELNOTINDISTRESS
So sometimes when I go update the blog, I stop at Blogger.com and read some of the "Recently Updated" blogs that are linked on the left. I'm providing the link to this one, just because it's the best example of what I continuously ran into this morning.
I guess the 8-9AM EST Sunday updating slot is populated largely by people from some country that have a curious bastardized version of English that they use to converse. Look at this entry:
"Baket ganun? I suppose OK na ang lahat between me and Ronald. I mean, we have already talked and we're still friends, but I still can't get over him. *sigh* Mahal ko pa rin sya... sobra! I never loved the way I have loved that guy. Siguro nga kasi it's been only a few days pa nga lang. That's why my feelings for him continues to shake me inside. It's like I couldn't believe he's really gone. Yah, I'm still in state of shock right now, but I'm trying my best to accept everything. I need to move on. I need to get back on track as soon as I can, especially now since I'm working. But everytime I read or hear or see his name (and pic), I can't help but remember everything we had in the past, and eventually feel so much depressed. It's just so strange why I can't cry them all out. I mean I have already wept a few days back, but I have a feeling that it's not enough! Just as Dao Ming Si said, para bang sasabog ang dibdib ko. T.T Para bang hindi ko kakayanin eh. *sigh* Ano ba dapat kong gawin? Oh God please help me!"
Can anyone place what country these people are from? If it helps, it looks like they are 11 hours ahead, so I'm guessing the Phillipines or Singapore, but that's just a guess. Email me if you have any idea.
We're fast approaching a one year anniversary of sorts for me. I've technically been single since the separation, which was just after Christmas 2001, but the divorce was official in the last few days of July 2002. While it was extremely difficult to do at the time, there are plenty of things that made getting past any lingering feelings that much easier. For example, an unwillingness on her part to admit that she slept with anyone prior to our separation. Actually, I think she hangs on to the statement that she didn't sleep with anyone prior to our divorce. Well, I'm guessing a guy doesn't fly all the way from England, and steal you away to a hotel for a week if he's not getting any. And frankly, that's the stuff I know about, let alone what I don't know. There's more too. Such as her squabbling with me over what I could and couldn't take with me when I moved out. Then, of course, she promptly moves to England leaving 100% of all her/our stuff, clothes excluded, behind. I'm stuck with less than what I had when I was in college. That's alright, it's good for me to live a little more sparingly. And then, of course, she has ended up with almost precisely the pattern I predicted she would when she moved over there. I predicted she would land with a guy in short order (check), get engaged within a year of our divorce (check), not give up the idea of being self employed although there's no money in it for her (check), and probably get pregnant (twins - check).
By the way, I know she knew about this place once, and if by some chance she's still visiting, I don't need a debate on semantics. Happy anniversary ex-Mrs-Boy-Genius.
Bill Simmons @ ESPN
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