I was enjoying a bowl of tepid tomato soup (that was in dire need of flavor) and a hearty biscuit (with that Bisquick aftertaste) at a small diner in Philadelphia when I came across a wealth of blog material printed on small cards for patrons to read at their leisure.
The first bit was a comment on "bacon", the staple food of any good diner: "Bacon is not a euphemism for money; rather, the phrase has its roots in 12th century England. A church in the town of Dunmow promised a side of bacon to any married man who could swear before the congregation and God that he had not quarreled with his wife for a year and a day."
Wow! Bacon must have been quite a commodity in those times! Now you can get a side of bacon at IHOP for a lot less than a vow of peace with your partner (although it might result in a war in the bathroom). And what's with that year and a day? Lord … a man who brings home the bacon in Dunmow does more than just bread-winning and promising harmony; he's probably a lying pig.
The next item for my reading pleasure was a discussion on "scrapple", a popular concoction of vomit and intestines that is ravished by northeasterners and gutter rats alike. "Scrapple: The Pennsylvania Dutch call it Panhas, southerners call it Poor-do, and in Maryland, Virginia, and North Carolina it's called Liver-mush. Scrapple is a medieval word for leftovers mixed up with the German word Panhaskreppel and the Netherlands Dutch word Schrapelkoekeje."
So not only is scrapple itself a mush of shit and gravy, but so are its semantic origins.
Scrapple wrappers in the grocery store are at least honest about the contents of this scrapple-diddle-ee-umptious delight (usually pig brain, whale carcass, sheep toe-jam), but this Philly diner challenged the commercialized version of scrapple to provide a more wholesome, healthier alternative: cornmeal, buckwheat flour, seasonings and meat broth cooked until thickened, sliced thin and fried until brown, good with ketchup or syrup. Now that doesn't sound too bad.
I paid my $4.50, wished I had spent it elsewhere, gathered my belongs, and finally gave into the desire to buy a local "Eat more scrapple" shirt at the register. I'm a schmuck from Delaware, what can I say? Table scraps are part of my blood.
(for a complete list of diner-ese phrase-ology, visit http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A890589)
Monday, February 19, 2007
Thursday, February 15, 2007
The Greyhound Experience
This semester I have the unique privilege of traveling back and forth from DC and Philadelphia via America's most prized form of public transportation: the Greyhound Bus (or the Peter Pan Bus… coincidentally, I am currently working on a blog that compares a man's inability to form emotional attachments with others to the story of Peter, watch this space!).
There are a few pointers that I can dish out to any of you who are brave enough to ride a contraption that bears the name of an animal that is often shot to death when past its prime (which, strangely, all of the passengers have reached). Lucky the drivers of the Greyhound busses are not put up to the same standards of actual race dogs; just in case, the driver is nonetheless seated in a bulletproof enclosure.
If you buy your tickets on the internet you can "skip" the hassle of waiting in the speedy (like molasses) line of customers by circumventing them at the electronic "Will Call" booth (and, no joke: there is an actual red carpet leading up to the booth). There is a modest $4 fee for this service, and for the man who has to clean the red carpet. Sadly, it is a four dollars better spent elsewhere, as these booths are always broken and you end up waiting in the regular line besides- and, with no carpet (oooohhhh!!!).
Do not consume any liquids an entire 3 hours before your Greyhound ride; you will regret it if you do. Going to the bathroom on a bus is about as pleasant as riding home completely drunk and sick in the back of a cab driven by a blind person.
One highly disturbing aspect of the Greyhound voyage is their list of prohibited items; a list that would suggest that these items have been carried on board in the past and have been met with displeasure from other passengers.
They include: ammunition, combustible liquids, fireworks, hazardous materials, and other reasonable limitations. However, there is also mention of cremated remains, materials with a disagreeable odor (however no mention of humans with a disagreeable odor), and my favorite- corpses. Yes friends, you heard it here first: please do not check any baggage containing corpses on the Greyhound.
Naturally I am respectful of these baggage restrictions, yet while riding the doggy-style bus I have to wonder—man, some of these people aren't moving and may have actually become corpses in transit (chuck 'em at the next stop?), and "disagreeable odor" is the understatement of the year when you get a whiff of that damned onboard bathroom.
There are a few pointers that I can dish out to any of you who are brave enough to ride a contraption that bears the name of an animal that is often shot to death when past its prime (which, strangely, all of the passengers have reached). Lucky the drivers of the Greyhound busses are not put up to the same standards of actual race dogs; just in case, the driver is nonetheless seated in a bulletproof enclosure.
If you buy your tickets on the internet you can "skip" the hassle of waiting in the speedy (like molasses) line of customers by circumventing them at the electronic "Will Call" booth (and, no joke: there is an actual red carpet leading up to the booth). There is a modest $4 fee for this service, and for the man who has to clean the red carpet. Sadly, it is a four dollars better spent elsewhere, as these booths are always broken and you end up waiting in the regular line besides- and, with no carpet (oooohhhh!!!).
Do not consume any liquids an entire 3 hours before your Greyhound ride; you will regret it if you do. Going to the bathroom on a bus is about as pleasant as riding home completely drunk and sick in the back of a cab driven by a blind person.
One highly disturbing aspect of the Greyhound voyage is their list of prohibited items; a list that would suggest that these items have been carried on board in the past and have been met with displeasure from other passengers.
They include: ammunition, combustible liquids, fireworks, hazardous materials, and other reasonable limitations. However, there is also mention of cremated remains, materials with a disagreeable odor (however no mention of humans with a disagreeable odor), and my favorite- corpses. Yes friends, you heard it here first: please do not check any baggage containing corpses on the Greyhound.
Naturally I am respectful of these baggage restrictions, yet while riding the doggy-style bus I have to wonder—man, some of these people aren't moving and may have actually become corpses in transit (chuck 'em at the next stop?), and "disagreeable odor" is the understatement of the year when you get a whiff of that damned onboard bathroom.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Santa Psychology
We are obsessed with big, old, fat, hairy men in red suits, aren't we? And no, I'm not talking about the bears' float in the Pride Parade; rather, Father Christmas, Pere Noel, crème fraïche, the big cheese, or Sinterklaas (sounds like a weapon from Star Trek—Mr. LaForge, blast that Borg with the Sinterklaas, then we can blitzen out of here and follow that comet!).
Apparently, the phenomenon of children gullibly accepting the lies of their parents and adults alike has been remarkably unchanged since this subject was first studied in the late 1800s.
Carl Anderson is a child psychologist who specializes in the field of lying and falsehood-spreading to innocent toddlers and youngsters that blindly accept the notion that strangers who eat cookies and milk are permitted into their homes … provided they leave a wrapped present behind.
First of all, a comment: how typical of a man!!! Rushes himself up and down the chimney, grabs a quick snack, dribbles, and leaves behind a "surprise" that is quite difficult to get rid of. Yeah, his cheeks are all rosy from getting smacked a few times by Ms. Claus for hopping a few too many chimneys. Bitch … ho ho ho, indeed.
And now we return to my commentary where I am transferring my anger towards my lying parents on to child psychologist Carl Anderson. Mr. Anderson amuses his shrink-freak mind by dressing as Kris Kringle and blatantly deceiving the puppy-dogged eyes of hundreds of children at the Dallas NorthPark Center (go figure, Texas …).
Anderson states that the Santa "set of beliefs" has remained intact over the past 100 years. I wonder if he's at all surprised by this? Certainly children should be taught at an early age not to trust what is told to them by their parents and caregivers. How are children supposed to understand genuine from not? Truth from fiction? Fat man in house from armed burglar with an appetite?
I firmly believe that you should only lie to children when you can profitably gain from their naivety, quite like taking candy from a baby. Spinning a tale about Santa Claus actually costs you more money to buy gifts and presents; why would you do this to yourself?!?
Alas, not much can be said for a big fat white guy that goes around and spreads lies to the people of America. Oh wait … how did we switch from Santa to Capitol Hill?
Apparently, the phenomenon of children gullibly accepting the lies of their parents and adults alike has been remarkably unchanged since this subject was first studied in the late 1800s.
Carl Anderson is a child psychologist who specializes in the field of lying and falsehood-spreading to innocent toddlers and youngsters that blindly accept the notion that strangers who eat cookies and milk are permitted into their homes … provided they leave a wrapped present behind.
First of all, a comment: how typical of a man!!! Rushes himself up and down the chimney, grabs a quick snack, dribbles, and leaves behind a "surprise" that is quite difficult to get rid of. Yeah, his cheeks are all rosy from getting smacked a few times by Ms. Claus for hopping a few too many chimneys. Bitch … ho ho ho, indeed.
And now we return to my commentary where I am transferring my anger towards my lying parents on to child psychologist Carl Anderson. Mr. Anderson amuses his shrink-freak mind by dressing as Kris Kringle and blatantly deceiving the puppy-dogged eyes of hundreds of children at the Dallas NorthPark Center (go figure, Texas …).
Anderson states that the Santa "set of beliefs" has remained intact over the past 100 years. I wonder if he's at all surprised by this? Certainly children should be taught at an early age not to trust what is told to them by their parents and caregivers. How are children supposed to understand genuine from not? Truth from fiction? Fat man in house from armed burglar with an appetite?
I firmly believe that you should only lie to children when you can profitably gain from their naivety, quite like taking candy from a baby. Spinning a tale about Santa Claus actually costs you more money to buy gifts and presents; why would you do this to yourself?!?
Alas, not much can be said for a big fat white guy that goes around and spreads lies to the people of America. Oh wait … how did we switch from Santa to Capitol Hill?
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Air & Space Museum
A National Museum is the best place in the world to collect interesting blog material. It is a collective embodiment of American life; the feats, the accomplishments, the horrific acts of human cruelty … nothing could be better.
And what more?!? The throngs of people who come to gawk at the enormous displays … or to sit in the McDonald's food court and wearily rub their trampled soles (maybe some soul-rubbing would get them out of McDonald's?).
Ramblings and Observations of the National Air & Space Museum:
Highest jump every recorded: 8 feet and one-half inch.
Now that is impressive, and an excellent way to get around those damned tourists who stand tenaciously on the left-hand side of escalators during rush hour.
"Jellyfish project themselves by contracting their bodies and expelling water"
Well, the last time I peed in the ocean I didn't project much, except for a warm patch that was still observed 5 minutes later by an old lady who mistook it for a hot spring.
Diapers for astronauts
In flight and spacewalks astronauts wear a "fecal containment system" (isn't that basically just a big toilet strapped around your waste? er … waist?) and a "urine collection and transfer assembly". Damn … those are fancy names for a crapper and piss tube, lord. Incidentally, there was a fecal bag on display just below a toothbrush … skank-nasty, friends.
Virginity rocks
I passed a post-adolescent male wearing a shirt that proudly stated "Virginity rocks!" My immediate thought was, "No it doesn't! It blows!!! Wait … then again, no it doesn't …"
Packing for flight
Astronauts take more care packing for their missions then we do for our flimsy 30,000 foot adventures in the air:
-Shark repellent – holy crap!!! We can send a man to the moon in search of extra-terrestrial life, but we still haven't found a way to solve that pesky "fish-eat-man" issue.
-Nylon parachute line – this thing looked like a mini-noose. Perhaps it is the more pleasant option should the repellent run dry.
-Waterproof matches – you've fought off the shark, hung your fellow astronaut friend so you don't have to split the rations, and now you really need a smoke.
Wright brothers
Did you know that the Wright brothers repaired bicycles before learning to defy gravity? Bike boys in flight; suddenly I'm reminded of E.T.
Planet Symbols
On one large wall of the museum there are the various symbols for the planets. Not surprisingly, the symbol for Venus is the traditional "female" sign (circle plus cross), and for Mars it is the sign for "male" (circle plus arrow).
What caught my attention was the sign for Uranus: an exact copy of the "male" symbol, except with a big dot (or puncture?) directly in the center of the hole. In essence- a pierced male. Coincidence? I think not. Copernicus knew what was up. No astronomer could possibly fondle a large cylindrical object all day without getting a bit dirty.
And what more?!? The throngs of people who come to gawk at the enormous displays … or to sit in the McDonald's food court and wearily rub their trampled soles (maybe some soul-rubbing would get them out of McDonald's?).
Ramblings and Observations of the National Air & Space Museum:
Highest jump every recorded: 8 feet and one-half inch.
Now that is impressive, and an excellent way to get around those damned tourists who stand tenaciously on the left-hand side of escalators during rush hour.
"Jellyfish project themselves by contracting their bodies and expelling water"
Well, the last time I peed in the ocean I didn't project much, except for a warm patch that was still observed 5 minutes later by an old lady who mistook it for a hot spring.
Diapers for astronauts
In flight and spacewalks astronauts wear a "fecal containment system" (isn't that basically just a big toilet strapped around your waste? er … waist?) and a "urine collection and transfer assembly". Damn … those are fancy names for a crapper and piss tube, lord. Incidentally, there was a fecal bag on display just below a toothbrush … skank-nasty, friends.
Virginity rocks
I passed a post-adolescent male wearing a shirt that proudly stated "Virginity rocks!" My immediate thought was, "No it doesn't! It blows!!! Wait … then again, no it doesn't …"
Packing for flight
Astronauts take more care packing for their missions then we do for our flimsy 30,000 foot adventures in the air:
-Shark repellent – holy crap!!! We can send a man to the moon in search of extra-terrestrial life, but we still haven't found a way to solve that pesky "fish-eat-man" issue.
-Nylon parachute line – this thing looked like a mini-noose. Perhaps it is the more pleasant option should the repellent run dry.
-Waterproof matches – you've fought off the shark, hung your fellow astronaut friend so you don't have to split the rations, and now you really need a smoke.
Wright brothers
Did you know that the Wright brothers repaired bicycles before learning to defy gravity? Bike boys in flight; suddenly I'm reminded of E.T.
Planet Symbols
On one large wall of the museum there are the various symbols for the planets. Not surprisingly, the symbol for Venus is the traditional "female" sign (circle plus cross), and for Mars it is the sign for "male" (circle plus arrow).
What caught my attention was the sign for Uranus: an exact copy of the "male" symbol, except with a big dot (or puncture?) directly in the center of the hole. In essence- a pierced male. Coincidence? I think not. Copernicus knew what was up. No astronomer could possibly fondle a large cylindrical object all day without getting a bit dirty.
Monday, January 8, 2007
2006 Cutting Room Floor
Random blog comments that didn't make the cut for 2006
-DC is way too small if I'm running into girls that I've kissed from house parties when I'm at the gay bar.
-being aroused by a carwash sign: "Hot lustra triple foaming polish"
-20% of the world's helium is used to cool MRI machines; 8% is used for balloons
-Comment from a grocery store cashier that made me stifle a giggle: "Do you mind if I put your raw meat in plastic?"
-Random quote: "If there's room for doubt, there's room for hope"
-A first "date" where the following were discussed: symbolic circumcision for admission to the Jewish faith, yeast infections in one's mouth, Pious Potato (name of an imaginary potato-only hut), and effective use of pepper spray … che romantico, eh ragazzi?
-Spinach scare of 2006: I often wondered if the other leafed salad components were like "finally, my chance in the spotlight! 2006 will be the year of rugola!!!" Do salad leaves get jealous?
-When some straight men dance it looks like someone administering the Heimlich maneuver on himself
-DC is way too small if I'm running into girls that I've kissed from house parties when I'm at the gay bar.
-being aroused by a carwash sign: "Hot lustra triple foaming polish"
-20% of the world's helium is used to cool MRI machines; 8% is used for balloons
-Comment from a grocery store cashier that made me stifle a giggle: "Do you mind if I put your raw meat in plastic?"
-Random quote: "If there's room for doubt, there's room for hope"
-A first "date" where the following were discussed: symbolic circumcision for admission to the Jewish faith, yeast infections in one's mouth, Pious Potato (name of an imaginary potato-only hut), and effective use of pepper spray … che romantico, eh ragazzi?
-Spinach scare of 2006: I often wondered if the other leafed salad components were like "finally, my chance in the spotlight! 2006 will be the year of rugola!!!" Do salad leaves get jealous?
-When some straight men dance it looks like someone administering the Heimlich maneuver on himself
Thursday, January 4, 2007
iTunes count, 2006
The most popular songs on my iTunes for 2006 …
Irreplaceable, Beyonce
Angels, Jessica Simpson
A Public Affair, Jessica Simpson
All You Wanted, Michelle Branch
Life is a Highway, Rascal Flatts
Cleptomania, Sugarfree
Everytime, Britney Spears
Don't Leave Home, Dido
Dirrty, Christina Aguilera
Plane, Jason Mraz
Not Ready to Make Nice, Dixie Chicks
Unwell, Matchbox Twenty
We Kiss in a Shadow, Gay Men's Chorus of DC
As Long as You're Mine, Wicked
Collide, Howie Day
Defying Gravity, Wicked
Get Me Bodied, Beyonce
Put Your Records On, Corinne Bailey Rae
Over the Rainbow, Jane Monheit
Light in Your Eyes, Blessed Union of Souls
Kiss Me, Six Pence None the Richer
Vuoi ballare con me?, Cesare Cremonini
Comments:
Beyonce: comforting *snap, mmhmm dammmmmnn girl*
Dixie Chicks: good for angry days
Jessica Simpson: excellent for … um … uh … like, was I talking? Oh it's not chicken?
Howie Day: great for pensive days
Six Pence: so cute for romantic days … and commentary for drag queens (you wear those shoes and I will wear a dress)
Wicked: inspiration to defy gravity on the days when everything seems to be pulling you down from flying
Corinne Bailey Rae: for tranquil days … and for schizophrenics who listen to consoling 3 little birds
Irreplaceable, Beyonce
Angels, Jessica Simpson
A Public Affair, Jessica Simpson
All You Wanted, Michelle Branch
Life is a Highway, Rascal Flatts
Cleptomania, Sugarfree
Everytime, Britney Spears
Don't Leave Home, Dido
Dirrty, Christina Aguilera
Plane, Jason Mraz
Not Ready to Make Nice, Dixie Chicks
Unwell, Matchbox Twenty
We Kiss in a Shadow, Gay Men's Chorus of DC
As Long as You're Mine, Wicked
Collide, Howie Day
Defying Gravity, Wicked
Get Me Bodied, Beyonce
Put Your Records On, Corinne Bailey Rae
Over the Rainbow, Jane Monheit
Light in Your Eyes, Blessed Union of Souls
Kiss Me, Six Pence None the Richer
Vuoi ballare con me?, Cesare Cremonini
Comments:
Beyonce: comforting *snap, mmhmm dammmmmnn girl*
Dixie Chicks: good for angry days
Jessica Simpson: excellent for … um … uh … like, was I talking? Oh it's not chicken?
Howie Day: great for pensive days
Six Pence: so cute for romantic days … and commentary for drag queens (you wear those shoes and I will wear a dress)
Wicked: inspiration to defy gravity on the days when everything seems to be pulling you down from flying
Corinne Bailey Rae: for tranquil days … and for schizophrenics who listen to consoling 3 little birds
Monday, January 1, 2007
High & Low, 2006
2006 was crazy! My longest year yet, I believe. How do 365 days go by in such a flurry of drama, emotion, and … alright, even more drama. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times … but god bless us, everyone (sorry, had a Dickens moment ((or two? *wink*)) ).
High: hmm … there's a lot to choose from. Some great times with friends: chatting, laughing. A trip back to Italy. A lot of life lessons, and a lot of smiling. Really amazing people who were always there for me (cue audience "awww" …), and, most importantly, finding what I had been looking for: some friggin' positivism.
Low: hmm … my first "C" in school, and some undesired relationship drama (cue audience "booo" and hurling of fruit … "aim for the gonads!").
And here are some life lessons learned along the road from a wanna-be epistemological thinker; nothing particularly brilliant or amazingly novel, but surprisingly insightful and enormously helpful to me along the way:
-people do what they can
-people don't intentionally hurt me
-kindness can be found in the most unusual of places
-be selfish and unselfish as needed
-appreciate what people CAN do
-open up, be vulnerable, take chances with feelings
-be more curious about others
-pain is normal, pain is healthy
-don't detach when expectations aren't met
-have hope, inspire change, ask for what you need
-let go of anger; it's there to protect you from pain, but will only hold you back from growing
-don't judge: people are doing what they need to survive
-don't judge: people are doing what they think is right
Predictions for 2007? Promises for a better me? A renaissance, I suppose …
The process of a rebirth: my water has broken (some tears), contractions have come and gone (pain, aggravation, and a promise never to let another man touch me again … ok, who am I kidding?), reassurance from friends and strangers alike (while being exposed … figuratively!), and one final push: for happiness, for calmness, and for love.
High: hmm … there's a lot to choose from. Some great times with friends: chatting, laughing. A trip back to Italy. A lot of life lessons, and a lot of smiling. Really amazing people who were always there for me (cue audience "awww" …), and, most importantly, finding what I had been looking for: some friggin' positivism.
Low: hmm … my first "C" in school, and some undesired relationship drama (cue audience "booo" and hurling of fruit … "aim for the gonads!").
And here are some life lessons learned along the road from a wanna-be epistemological thinker; nothing particularly brilliant or amazingly novel, but surprisingly insightful and enormously helpful to me along the way:
-people do what they can
-people don't intentionally hurt me
-kindness can be found in the most unusual of places
-be selfish and unselfish as needed
-appreciate what people CAN do
-open up, be vulnerable, take chances with feelings
-be more curious about others
-pain is normal, pain is healthy
-don't detach when expectations aren't met
-have hope, inspire change, ask for what you need
-let go of anger; it's there to protect you from pain, but will only hold you back from growing
-don't judge: people are doing what they need to survive
-don't judge: people are doing what they think is right
Predictions for 2007? Promises for a better me? A renaissance, I suppose …
The process of a rebirth: my water has broken (some tears), contractions have come and gone (pain, aggravation, and a promise never to let another man touch me again … ok, who am I kidding?), reassurance from friends and strangers alike (while being exposed … figuratively!), and one final push: for happiness, for calmness, and for love.
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