Tuesday, May 27, 2008
En France
Ici nous sommes en France. Ce soir nous avons eu un beau repas à un restaurant appelé "Le Grande Colbert" -- je pense que j'enverrai la carte professionnelle à Stephen Colber de Comédie Centrale!
Un de nos amis soutient dans Texas a envoyé un message de texte qui nous "doit faire un bébé français" pendant que nous sommes ici. Pas sûr nous ferons un bébé, mais pratiquant pour faire si sûr est amusant.
Oh, l'attente, j'ai remarqué juste je fais cette entrée entière en français! La bonté, je suis très drôle! J'apprécie aussi les bains d'éponge.
Si vous avez compris cette entrée, vous êtes un francophone ou vous êtes un espèce de menteur dégoûtant qui a utilisé un service de traduction libre le calculer hors.
Un de nos amis soutient dans Texas a envoyé un message de texte qui nous "doit faire un bébé français" pendant que nous sommes ici. Pas sûr nous ferons un bébé, mais pratiquant pour faire si sûr est amusant.
Oh, l'attente, j'ai remarqué juste je fais cette entrée entière en français! La bonté, je suis très drôle! J'apprécie aussi les bains d'éponge.
Si vous avez compris cette entrée, vous êtes un francophone ou vous êtes un espèce de menteur dégoûtant qui a utilisé un service de traduction libre le calculer hors.
Labels: Francais, Vive Le France
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Airborne Virus
It's amazing to me that a survey was needed to know that people don't want to listen to self-important a-holes yammer on their cell phones during plane rides. Frankly, I'm amazed that the number (74%) of people who don't want to hear phone-talking wasn't even higher. Anyone who has traveled on any form of transportation knows how damn annoying this is. And I know I've always feared the day when we would be able to talk on airplanes, too.It's awful when you ride a bus or train with someone who does this. I always wonder, when I'm on a super-early train or bus, "Who is this self-important asshole talking to?" I mean, seriously, you're doing business at 6:30 AM? Or are you on a social call? Because if one of my friends called to chat at some ungodly hour of the morning, they would cease to A) be my friend, and B) live, if they were within driving distance to go and strangle.
I guess it's cool that several airlines are rolling out wireless features that limit talking. Texting, email and gaming will likely be allowed very soon. And that's fine. But I also think it will make us wistful once again for the simpler times when we couldn't check email on an airplane. Actually, airplanes are the one remaining sanctuary where we're not "connected." You have to turn off your cell phone and your blackberry and your computer can't (or shouldn't) pick up wireless signals so your only email obsession-feeding is via your archived mail.
You often hear people make comments like, "What did we do before cell phones?" It won't be long before it's, "What did we do before we had wireless access on airplanes? We had wait until we got where we were going! Imagine!"
And what irritates me to to no end is the phone calls that do happen once you're able to turn your phone back on, twelve seconds after your plane is on the ground. Listen to those around you who can barely wait to get their phone back on and stuck to their ear -- the conversations are all exactly the same.
"Hey, it's me. We landed."
"Still on the plane."
"I said, we're STILL ON THE PLANE!"
"Okay. Well, I gotta go to baggage claim. Okay. I'll see you then. Bye."
Was that necessary? Or could we all agree to just meet at baggage claim ahead of time? Like we used to.
Fine, so I'm becoming a grumpy old man.
Also? Get off my lawn.
Labels: a-holes, air travel, cell phones piss me off, obnoxious, things that just shouldn't be
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Italia
Last year, my job required me to go to Paris for a couple of days, similar to in 2005. So I checked into my frequent flyer miles and, despite the fact that we were less than two months before our wedding, Watersyne tagged along and got to see Paris for a mere 100,000 frequent flyer miles. Not bad, when you consider my flight and the hotel are paid for by the company. We had a great time and saw all the touristy sights -- which is good, because that's fun to do in Paris, seeing the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, Siene River, Louvre, Notre Dame Cathedral, etc. We loved it.
Well, turns out, this year I have to go back again. So this will be my third springtime visit to Paris since 2005. Which means I've seen enough of Paris. I'm beginning to know the subway system better than I know New York's. Don't get me wrong, I do like the city and it's a great city to walk in and to sit at sidewalk cafes and drink wine. But since I'm going back, we thought maybe we should look into a way to make this kind of an early anniversary trip.
So now, after three days in Paris, we're hopping a flight over to Venice and we're staying there for four nights.
I know, I know, how posh of us. Spending the weekend in Venice!
The best part of it is the way it's working out financially, so I just have to share.
Obviously, my round-trip flight to Paris is covered by work. As is our hotel in Paris. Watersyne's round-trip to Paris is going to only cost me 75,000 miles this time, despite being further away. Then we pay for our hour-long flight over to Venice from Paris. However, my lovely wife has several hundred thousand hotel points because of all her hotel stays as part of her old job in New York, so we're staying at a Crowne Plaza for... nothing! Just reward points! We felt like our luck was kind of incredible. Essentially, all we're on the hook for is our $370 round trip flights from Paris to Venice.
So what does this mean? Well, we're doing Paris and Venice for less than $800. Of course, we'll more than make up for it in restaurants in Venice, methinks.
Well, turns out, this year I have to go back again. So this will be my third springtime visit to Paris since 2005. Which means I've seen enough of Paris. I'm beginning to know the subway system better than I know New York's. Don't get me wrong, I do like the city and it's a great city to walk in and to sit at sidewalk cafes and drink wine. But since I'm going back, we thought maybe we should look into a way to make this kind of an early anniversary trip.
So now, after three days in Paris, we're hopping a flight over to Venice and we're staying there for four nights.
I know, I know, how posh of us. Spending the weekend in Venice!
The best part of it is the way it's working out financially, so I just have to share.
Obviously, my round-trip flight to Paris is covered by work. As is our hotel in Paris. Watersyne's round-trip to Paris is going to only cost me 75,000 miles this time, despite being further away. Then we pay for our hour-long flight over to Venice from Paris. However, my lovely wife has several hundred thousand hotel points because of all her hotel stays as part of her old job in New York, so we're staying at a Crowne Plaza for... nothing! Just reward points! We felt like our luck was kind of incredible. Essentially, all we're on the hook for is our $370 round trip flights from Paris to Venice.
So what does this mean? Well, we're doing Paris and Venice for less than $800. Of course, we'll more than make up for it in restaurants in Venice, methinks.
Labels: air travel, Paris, Venice
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
The Great Veggie Experiment
I'll be 33 years old this year. But anyone who knows me (or has tried to get a nicely-posed photograph out of me) knows that I am more like, well, an infant. Or maybe a misbehaved -- and kind of disproportionately large -- toddler.
Never is this more evident than when my eating habits are called into question. Oh sure, I have a good routine established for most days -- a Kashi peanut butter bar for breakfast, a frozen WW meal for lunch along with some fat free Pringles and WW yogurt, and then whatever happens to be made for dinner by my lovely wife.
But that's the thing. She's getting more confident in the kitchen and she really likes veggies. She has this weird thing where we absolutely must have sides with every meal. If there aren't sides -- or enough sides -- she has mini-freakouts.
"Mmmm, hon, this steak is marinated so well. It's gonna be great."
"I don't know what we're going to do about sides!"
This sort of exchange plays out more than you might think. I don't get it. Who cares what's on your plate as long as you're full at the end? I mean, this is not to say I think you should eat a bowl of potato chips for dinner. Far from it.. I think there needs to be a hearty, main course-ish thing to eat. Such as steak, chicken, fish, sandwiches, pasta, eggs, etc. Whatever. But not without sides. In fact, I think my wife should write a move for the Lifetime Network entitled, Not Without My Sides.
So naturally, this has led to what J will and will not eat. And the "will not" list isn't as lengthy as everyone thinks. But once people think you're "picky" or "fussy," the label never -- never -- goes away. My idiot cousins still think I won't eat meat lasagna because one time when I was a kid I said I preferred cheese lasagna b/c that's what my grandmother (and mother) used to make. I absoultely loved their cheese lasagna and still do. So my mother assumed, in her early-onset dementia, that meant I hated all other lasagna. While I probably made a face about veggie lasagna, I never claimed to not like meat. And she knows this, because whenever she -- or anyone else in a 50 mile radius of my nose -- makes meatballs, I eat as many as possible. Yet a couple years ago, when I was about 30 or so, my cousins came to my parents' house for Christmas and brough two fucking lasagnas. One for everybody except me and one without meat because, "J doesn't eat meat lasagna." The hell?
Anyway, I'm digressing. Point is, people think I'm picky and more picky than I actually am. When in reality, it's simply that I know what I like and I like to have what I like a lot. You know? I'd eat the same five or six meals in rotation every week for the next thirty years if it was allowed. But if you do that, people look at you like you're a four year old who only eats chicken fingers, hot dogs and mac-n-cheese. (Three staples I'm not ashamed to admit I find delicious.)
Okay, digressing again. The whole point of this post was to share the fact that my lovely wife wants to be able to make veggies with dinner on a nightly basis. She loves veggies. Eats them like snacks. She'd eat a box of edimame or frozen green beans as a snack. She's weird. But she's hot, so I let her stay.
Me, I like me a main course and if I have to have a side, I choose a starch. Nice, fattening, carbohydrate-laden starches. Potatoes, rice, pasta. Whatever. Hell, I married an Italian woman, one would think I'd get a bowl of pasta at the start of ever meal followed by some codfish and then a main course of meat. Those Godfather movies were full of shit.
So I agreed, as I have in the past, to eat -- or at least, try -- anything my wife puts in front of me. I want credit for this, because I rarely say, flat-out, no, I'm not eating that. I'll try it or I'll at least tell you I once tried it and don't like it. At that point, you should back off. I'm 215 lbs and I will hurt you if you continue to press your luck. You can only force me to put things in my mouth if you let me put things in your mouth. Which leads us to my wife.
Wait -- well, you know what I meant.
What this agreement meant was that I'd be eating veggies on a semi-regular basis for the first time since my youth when my mother would withhold dessert from me until I choked down some broccoli. I remember the table being cleared and me still sitting there with a few stalks of broccoli or cauliflower or something else equally disgusting. And the Welsh Farms ice cream sitting there in the freezer, like a glorious finish line.
Anyway, I've already been making progress in the past year. I eat salads occasionally now, and that's all due to my wife. The first time my mom saw me eating salad I think she almost fainted. Or maybe she thought I liked salad all along. It's not meat lasagna after all.
So a week or two ago, I had some squash. It was okay, kind of reminded me of a sweet potato. A yellowish sweet potato. And it didn't taste like a sweet potato. But other than that, it was wonderful. I loaded it up with Smart Balance fake-butter and salted it and gobbled it down. It didn't bother me that much so I was pleased with myself. And Watersyne was thrilled also.
Then the next one was green beans. Now, I hate most green veggies. Which, I admit, doesn't leave much. But as I said earlier, I'd eat the same thing every night so this shouldn't be a problem. But my wife doesn't want to eat the same thing all the time and also doesn't want to make me special meals, so I have to branch out. So I ate a half-dozen green beans with dinner one night. I admit, it wasn't a large sampling, but I ate the damn things and my critics should be happy with that.
Then a couple nights ago it was pepper time. I cooked red, yellow and orange sweet peppers on the grill along with shish-ke-bob steaks and away we went. I ate several pieces of each color, not particularly enjoying them but also not vomiting. I felt like I'd done a good job and then Watersyne put the same number of pieces I'd just eaten onto my plate and said I should finish those and she'd be happy. So I did. I love her. What can I say? I'll eat salad, peppers and green beans for her.
And there doesn't even have to be Welsh Farms ice cream waiting for me at the end.
Never is this more evident than when my eating habits are called into question. Oh sure, I have a good routine established for most days -- a Kashi peanut butter bar for breakfast, a frozen WW meal for lunch along with some fat free Pringles and WW yogurt, and then whatever happens to be made for dinner by my lovely wife.
But that's the thing. She's getting more confident in the kitchen and she really likes veggies. She has this weird thing where we absolutely must have sides with every meal. If there aren't sides -- or enough sides -- she has mini-freakouts.
"Mmmm, hon, this steak is marinated so well. It's gonna be great."
"I don't know what we're going to do about sides!"
This sort of exchange plays out more than you might think. I don't get it. Who cares what's on your plate as long as you're full at the end? I mean, this is not to say I think you should eat a bowl of potato chips for dinner. Far from it.. I think there needs to be a hearty, main course-ish thing to eat. Such as steak, chicken, fish, sandwiches, pasta, eggs, etc. Whatever. But not without sides. In fact, I think my wife should write a move for the Lifetime Network entitled, Not Without My Sides.
So naturally, this has led to what J will and will not eat. And the "will not" list isn't as lengthy as everyone thinks. But once people think you're "picky" or "fussy," the label never -- never -- goes away. My idiot cousins still think I won't eat meat lasagna because one time when I was a kid I said I preferred cheese lasagna b/c that's what my grandmother (and mother) used to make. I absoultely loved their cheese lasagna and still do. So my mother assumed, in her early-onset dementia, that meant I hated all other lasagna. While I probably made a face about veggie lasagna, I never claimed to not like meat. And she knows this, because whenever she -- or anyone else in a 50 mile radius of my nose -- makes meatballs, I eat as many as possible. Yet a couple years ago, when I was about 30 or so, my cousins came to my parents' house for Christmas and brough two fucking lasagnas. One for everybody except me and one without meat because, "J doesn't eat meat lasagna." The hell?
Anyway, I'm digressing. Point is, people think I'm picky and more picky than I actually am. When in reality, it's simply that I know what I like and I like to have what I like a lot. You know? I'd eat the same five or six meals in rotation every week for the next thirty years if it was allowed. But if you do that, people look at you like you're a four year old who only eats chicken fingers, hot dogs and mac-n-cheese. (Three staples I'm not ashamed to admit I find delicious.)
Okay, digressing again. The whole point of this post was to share the fact that my lovely wife wants to be able to make veggies with dinner on a nightly basis. She loves veggies. Eats them like snacks. She'd eat a box of edimame or frozen green beans as a snack. She's weird. But she's hot, so I let her stay.
Me, I like me a main course and if I have to have a side, I choose a starch. Nice, fattening, carbohydrate-laden starches. Potatoes, rice, pasta. Whatever. Hell, I married an Italian woman, one would think I'd get a bowl of pasta at the start of ever meal followed by some codfish and then a main course of meat. Those Godfather movies were full of shit.
So I agreed, as I have in the past, to eat -- or at least, try -- anything my wife puts in front of me. I want credit for this, because I rarely say, flat-out, no, I'm not eating that. I'll try it or I'll at least tell you I once tried it and don't like it. At that point, you should back off. I'm 215 lbs and I will hurt you if you continue to press your luck. You can only force me to put things in my mouth if you let me put things in your mouth. Which leads us to my wife.
Wait -- well, you know what I meant.
What this agreement meant was that I'd be eating veggies on a semi-regular basis for the first time since my youth when my mother would withhold dessert from me until I choked down some broccoli. I remember the table being cleared and me still sitting there with a few stalks of broccoli or cauliflower or something else equally disgusting. And the Welsh Farms ice cream sitting there in the freezer, like a glorious finish line.
Anyway, I've already been making progress in the past year. I eat salads occasionally now, and that's all due to my wife. The first time my mom saw me eating salad I think she almost fainted. Or maybe she thought I liked salad all along. It's not meat lasagna after all.
So a week or two ago, I had some squash. It was okay, kind of reminded me of a sweet potato. A yellowish sweet potato. And it didn't taste like a sweet potato. But other than that, it was wonderful. I loaded it up with Smart Balance fake-butter and salted it and gobbled it down. It didn't bother me that much so I was pleased with myself. And Watersyne was thrilled also.
Then the next one was green beans. Now, I hate most green veggies. Which, I admit, doesn't leave much. But as I said earlier, I'd eat the same thing every night so this shouldn't be a problem. But my wife doesn't want to eat the same thing all the time and also doesn't want to make me special meals, so I have to branch out. So I ate a half-dozen green beans with dinner one night. I admit, it wasn't a large sampling, but I ate the damn things and my critics should be happy with that.
Then a couple nights ago it was pepper time. I cooked red, yellow and orange sweet peppers on the grill along with shish-ke-bob steaks and away we went. I ate several pieces of each color, not particularly enjoying them but also not vomiting. I felt like I'd done a good job and then Watersyne put the same number of pieces I'd just eaten onto my plate and said I should finish those and she'd be happy. So I did. I love her. What can I say? I'll eat salad, peppers and green beans for her.
And there doesn't even have to be Welsh Farms ice cream waiting for me at the end.
Labels: fatness, married life, The Great Veggie Experiment
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Yeah, This Shouldn't Further Cement Jersey's Reputation Or Anything
Periodically, I'll go onto the website for the local paper I used to subscribe to in NJ and check out what's going on.Today, I learned that the sterotype about New Jersey being famous for chemical spills, traffic and shopping malls was being neatly furthered in one single piece of news.
A tanker truck overturned on the highway, spilling 600 gallons of a chemical, forcing a major commuting highway to be closed for about 18 hours. Splendid.
"It's hard to keep track" of how long the traffic jam lasted, said Maria Stehle, a Knoxville, Tenn., resident on her way to Massachusetts. She guessed it had taken about two hours for her move a couple of miles.
Roger Perry of Texas said it took him, his wife Linda and their dog Roy about three-and -a-half hours to travel three miles. Like Stehle, the Perrys were also on a long trip, from Texas to Rhode Island.
"We've got to get there sometime this year," Roger Perry quipped. His wife Linda said waiting in such bad traffic gave her a feeling of extreme, numbing boredom.
"Complete nothingness," is how she described the experience.
How is it that they managed to interview people from Tennessee and Texas for a story about a traffic jam in New Jersey?
The sight of the emergency crews tending to the stricken truck attracted some onlookers who got a good view of the scene from the nearby Riverdale Crossing shopping center, which overlooks the accident scene and remained opened during the incident.
What, no mention of The Sopranos?
Oh, wait, a police raid on the Gambino crime family, with the top dog being from my county... there we go.
Labels: New Jersey, stereotypes, truck crashes
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Deep In The Hearrrt...of New Jersey!
Last week, I went back to NJ for the first time since I left it in my rear-view mirror on December 26. More than four months away from my home state, which is the longest I've been out of New Jersey since my last year of college in 1999. And even then, I'm not sure I ever went four months without being back.
Watersyne had gone up a week earlier so Maya and I had the run of the house to ourselves. I chose to be a good husband and spent the entire weekend without my wife working on our garage -- it's finally in some semblence of an order, with shelving up on the walls, hooks holding our random softball, golf and ski bags, and almost all tools and bins in their proper places. Having no basement means we still have a lot of crap that prevents us from getting two cars into the garage, but we're getting a lot closer.
So last week, I went up to NJ on Wednesday night and stayed under Monday morning. On Thursday evening, I got to see the Rangers lone win in their second-round series against the Pittsburgh Penguins. And, yeah, New Yorkers are still obnoxious. I found myself being my old impatient self as I pushed through the crowd of people at the Garden and in Penn Station. The NY experience didn't end there, as on Friday night we went to Yankee Stadium for perhaps our last official visit. I don't know if I'll get a chance again this year and it's the final year for the Stadium, so it had to be done. Of course, it was 45 degrees, windy and drizzly on our night, but it was still fun. I was sent looking for knishes by Watersyne -- something we know they sell there -- but I was utterly unsuccessful.
I had smashed my knee on a metal thingie on the train on our way into the city earlier, so hoofing it all around Yankee Stadium searching for knishes was rather...irritating. Every clown I asked told me to go to a different place and none of them were right. It made me want to go back and punch each of these mouth-breathers in the face. Eventually, I got a text message from my buddy who was there with us that said, "They have knishes at Shea." Nice.
After the game, we rode the subway back to where my friend's car was parked and headed home. So we got our fill of NJ Transit trains (from which my knee still hurts), NYC subways, NYC people, and NY sporting events for one weekend. I think we're good on those for now.
On Saturday, we had a communion to attend and then Sunday was our last day in town. We're now back in the heart of Tejas and enjoying the 82 degree weather.
That's the update. It's kind of like a rental car: It's not fancy, but it's all you get.
Watersyne had gone up a week earlier so Maya and I had the run of the house to ourselves. I chose to be a good husband and spent the entire weekend without my wife working on our garage -- it's finally in some semblence of an order, with shelving up on the walls, hooks holding our random softball, golf and ski bags, and almost all tools and bins in their proper places. Having no basement means we still have a lot of crap that prevents us from getting two cars into the garage, but we're getting a lot closer.
So last week, I went up to NJ on Wednesday night and stayed under Monday morning. On Thursday evening, I got to see the Rangers lone win in their second-round series against the Pittsburgh Penguins. And, yeah, New Yorkers are still obnoxious. I found myself being my old impatient self as I pushed through the crowd of people at the Garden and in Penn Station. The NY experience didn't end there, as on Friday night we went to Yankee Stadium for perhaps our last official visit. I don't know if I'll get a chance again this year and it's the final year for the Stadium, so it had to be done. Of course, it was 45 degrees, windy and drizzly on our night, but it was still fun. I was sent looking for knishes by Watersyne -- something we know they sell there -- but I was utterly unsuccessful.
I had smashed my knee on a metal thingie on the train on our way into the city earlier, so hoofing it all around Yankee Stadium searching for knishes was rather...irritating. Every clown I asked told me to go to a different place and none of them were right. It made me want to go back and punch each of these mouth-breathers in the face. Eventually, I got a text message from my buddy who was there with us that said, "They have knishes at Shea." Nice.
After the game, we rode the subway back to where my friend's car was parked and headed home. So we got our fill of NJ Transit trains (from which my knee still hurts), NYC subways, NYC people, and NY sporting events for one weekend. I think we're good on those for now.
On Saturday, we had a communion to attend and then Sunday was our last day in town. We're now back in the heart of Tejas and enjoying the 82 degree weather.
That's the update. It's kind of like a rental car: It's not fancy, but it's all you get.
Labels: meaningless update, NYC, Rangers, Yankees
