Last post of the season...will be in the States this time next week and will not officially be back till August 10th or so. Today's installment feels a little disjointed and am chalking it up to me tweaking my spine a couple days ago. Sucks...one of those wrenchings where it hurts in all positions. I have a 9 concert in 10 day run coming up starting Thursday and have feeling of dread.
From the vaults this week. My siblings and I circa 1979ish.
A rare occurrence happened in town this week...a cool band passed through. A three piece from Texas called Khruangbin played a neat little club inside an old pumping station in the area of the Water Museum (which is a water park on the grounds of an old water treatment plant). This band has a professed love of psychedelic rock out of Thailand from the '70's and they were pretty groovy. I wouldn't go out of my city to see them, but wouldn't miss them should we cross paths again.
We don't go nearly enough, but caught a baseball game across the street last weekend as well. Went with some friends and met some new friends. Haven't gone out to the stadium much this season cause the last time I went, the PA was turned up so loud that you couldn't hear the person next to you without screaming the entire game, but they have dialed it back and other than the oppressing heat, was a rip roaring good time. I'm wearing a vintage Edgar Martinez Seattle road jersey
The guy holding the kid behind me is one of the new friends. Can't remember his name but will call him Cory cause he kinda looks like the Brother Elephant teams manager Cory Snyder. This Cory and his wife go to a lot of games and this night had packed packed a ton of food to share. His wife, who is Mongolian and is above Betty's shoulder to the right, is a renaissance woman and in addition to roasting her own peanuts and filling balloons up with water and freezing them for ingenious cooler ice, she brought along a load of chicken parm sandwiches and was doling them out. The guy asks if I like chicken parm, which is like asking if a fish likes water. We get into my genealogy and how being Sicilian makes me an expert on the subject and it was game on. He was pushing me to eat one and rate his wife's offering for several innings. I ultimately tried it but didn't want to give him my critique cause am not the type to heap false praise on anything. It is some kind of psychological twitch that I can't act like everyone else and say something is great when it isn't just to make a person feel good. To be fair, her sandwich was good and I would say that for being prepared by a Mongolian in Taiwan it was excellent. He kept pushing for my thoughts and I told him that I gave it a 7 out of 10. The sauce was good, but the bread was a bit chewy and it was too light on the chicken. Felt like I hurt his feelings a bit cause he stopped talking to me for most of the rest of the game, but 7 is a damn fine score and he should have nothing to feel bad about. Was by far the best chicken parm sandwich I've ever eaten at the stadium and all.
The above group (including most of the kids) all retired to the bar for a throw down after and we were getting our groove on pretty hard. Cory is talking to me again wants to get more into my heritage and shares that his is Irish. I am railing on that ethnic group as I am wont to do, and then Betty shares the above archive photo that she has on her phone for some reason. Cory gets a look at it and starts into me, first saying I look Irish with the curly red hair, but finally landing on that I am Jewish. The rest of the night is a running back and forth about his Irish heritage and my Jew-boy good looks. As my faux Semitism has been a theme/running gag throughout my life, you know that I loved this guy instantly.
I really hope than when we met again in August that I will have the results from my 23 & Me test back. My family tells me I am supposed to be 3/4 German and 1/4 Italian, but I am truly hoping to have some funky stuff in the mix. Black, Jewish (is Jewish a religion or race?) or Irish...main goal is to find something unexpected mainly for the resulting gags.
Scientists say that many people lose a lot of their sense of taste as they age and pray that doesn't happen to me as I am forever dazzled by food. Indian, along with Italian, Spanish and Thai, are on my Mt Rushmore of cuisines. We were going to a place downtown a couple weeks ago and stopped to chat with someone on the street. As we're there, I look over and see an Indian place I had never seen before. Didn't take much effort to convince Betty to forgo the subway ride and try this place in the neighborhood. We get in and it had a bunch of menu items I was unfamiliar with and Betty exclaims in delight that they have 'dosa'. Never heard of it before but she says it is one of her favorite things when she goes to India for work. We get one of course and it is freaking fantastic. A giant pancake, like 1 1/2 feet long made of lentils and rice and filled with yummy goodness. We went back last night and had another. That something can be out there that is so amazing and I have never tasted it before just makes me excited to get up in the morning thinking there will be a chance to stumble on something new and exciting.
The guy holding the kid behind me is one of the new friends. Can't remember his name but will call him Cory cause he kinda looks like the Brother Elephant teams manager Cory Snyder. This Cory and his wife go to a lot of games and this night had packed packed a ton of food to share. His wife, who is Mongolian and is above Betty's shoulder to the right, is a renaissance woman and in addition to roasting her own peanuts and filling balloons up with water and freezing them for ingenious cooler ice, she brought along a load of chicken parm sandwiches and was doling them out. The guy asks if I like chicken parm, which is like asking if a fish likes water. We get into my genealogy and how being Sicilian makes me an expert on the subject and it was game on. He was pushing me to eat one and rate his wife's offering for several innings. I ultimately tried it but didn't want to give him my critique cause am not the type to heap false praise on anything. It is some kind of psychological twitch that I can't act like everyone else and say something is great when it isn't just to make a person feel good. To be fair, her sandwich was good and I would say that for being prepared by a Mongolian in Taiwan it was excellent. He kept pushing for my thoughts and I told him that I gave it a 7 out of 10. The sauce was good, but the bread was a bit chewy and it was too light on the chicken. Felt like I hurt his feelings a bit cause he stopped talking to me for most of the rest of the game, but 7 is a damn fine score and he should have nothing to feel bad about. Was by far the best chicken parm sandwich I've ever eaten at the stadium and all.
The above group (including most of the kids) all retired to the bar for a throw down after and we were getting our groove on pretty hard. Cory is talking to me again wants to get more into my heritage and shares that his is Irish. I am railing on that ethnic group as I am wont to do, and then Betty shares the above archive photo that she has on her phone for some reason. Cory gets a look at it and starts into me, first saying I look Irish with the curly red hair, but finally landing on that I am Jewish. The rest of the night is a running back and forth about his Irish heritage and my Jew-boy good looks. As my faux Semitism has been a theme/running gag throughout my life, you know that I loved this guy instantly.
I really hope than when we met again in August that I will have the results from my 23 & Me test back. My family tells me I am supposed to be 3/4 German and 1/4 Italian, but I am truly hoping to have some funky stuff in the mix. Black, Jewish (is Jewish a religion or race?) or Irish...main goal is to find something unexpected mainly for the resulting gags.
Scientists say that many people lose a lot of their sense of taste as they age and pray that doesn't happen to me as I am forever dazzled by food. Indian, along with Italian, Spanish and Thai, are on my Mt Rushmore of cuisines. We were going to a place downtown a couple weeks ago and stopped to chat with someone on the street. As we're there, I look over and see an Indian place I had never seen before. Didn't take much effort to convince Betty to forgo the subway ride and try this place in the neighborhood. We get in and it had a bunch of menu items I was unfamiliar with and Betty exclaims in delight that they have 'dosa'. Never heard of it before but she says it is one of her favorite things when she goes to India for work. We get one of course and it is freaking fantastic. A giant pancake, like 1 1/2 feet long made of lentils and rice and filled with yummy goodness. We went back last night and had another. That something can be out there that is so amazing and I have never tasted it before just makes me excited to get up in the morning thinking there will be a chance to stumble on something new and exciting.
Like this.
At the 7-11's here, they have been selling these Snickers lately that I have to assume come from Russia and looked to be sunflower seed flavor. They have carried regular Snickers and Almond Snickers here for years, but these just popped up. Have been hesitant to buy it for myself, but picked one up as we had company staying with us and thought I'd let them try it as the guinea pigs. Broke it out and we all had a go...tasted like sunflower seeds and chocolate. Not a combo I would have considered and wasn't awful but do not foresee a repeat buy.
Why do they say the temperature is one number, but with the wind chill/humidity it feels like something else? It said it was 91 yesterday but "feels" like 107. It's 107 damn it. Looking ahead, it says that in the evening the day I get into Seattle, it is going to be 52 degrees. Ahhhhhhh.
I saw and was subsequently sent some articles about a study recently published that claims that chronically late people are more successful. Think those that sent it to me were trolling me cause being late is one of the pets in my peeve menagerie. The article was a rip roaring load of crap describing these heretics thusly..."you're an optimist", "everything intrigues you", and "you can hop in and find a solution fast.". I can't even bring myself to comment on the bullshit these lazy ass unorganized M-Fers tell themselves to justify making the rest of the world wait while these intrigued optimistic dolts find quick solutions to the problems they created by being late in the first place. Late people think that it is cute when they're late. It is not.
Finally for today, one more from the "Peeve Pile". Betty was taking a day to relax and lounged in bed for most of an afternoon. Smart cause that is where the A/C works best. We are going out to eat at the above mentioned Indian joint with a friend and it is time to go. We're about to leave and I go to the bedroom to grab something, look at the bed and see this.
Yes, that is a piece of white bread with the white goo eaten out from the inside and the carcass left on the bed. Without a plate. On my side. WTF?!?! Fortunately the friend we were with at dinner is familiar with our bickering and was a participant as we "discussed" this horrific attack on everything I hold dear. Arguing about trivial or petty things is one of my favorite past times and this was a good one. It might have gone on all evening, but Betty said one of the funniest things. We were talking about things that bug her and said she doesn't get irritated by stuff as "I just let it roll". We all laughed.
Smell ya later.
ROTF LMAO
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