I have a problem with some of the etiquette that has been occurring with regularity at the men’s urinal. Many of us men have a keen awareness of the necessary decorum to be used in a public restroom. The rest of us had to learn through trial and error. I submit to you five absurdities I have witnessed and would like to stop seeing.
1. I have seen a grown man at the urinal with his pants at his ankles. I was quite sure this man knew of the awkward position he and I were both in at the time and appreciated the quickness with which he picked up his pants. I would say this was an anomaly if I did not see this act twice in two different locales. Either I am visiting the wrong lavatories or I am doing everything all wrong.
2. For some reason the office restroom is a no holds barred, anything goes atmosphere. Men busy taking a deuce are many times on the phone conducting business like this was a war room on Wall Street. Please refrain from telling your wife to remember to take the kids to piano at the same time you are busy pinching a loaf. It disturbs me that the woman on the other end of this call accepts all your faults including this one.
3. Another office specialty is the old guy reading a paper at the urinal. I understand that your prostate is roughly the size of a Japanese gymnast but please refrain from reading the whole sports page while I’m waiting in line. I hope to never know the pleasure of a ten minute whiz that comes in droplet form but you are making us all anxious.
4. Please use all urinals as place holders. If space permits use the urinal the farthest away. I have a friend that time and again likes to sidle up to any one of us like he was telling us a secret. We can get as close as you want after I pee but for the moment please move away while my wiener is in the open air.
5. For the great genius designing bathroom layouts. Stop with the awkward urinal placements. Many dive bars are guilty of this transgression. They try to fit in as many as they can in a small place. Now I'm forced to pee standing back to back to the drunk dude with no balance. I can clearly see he is missing his mark and it's making me uncomfortable. Then when I'm done I have to maneuver in some weird metal gear solid way so I don't accidentally induce foreplay with a strange gentleman.
These are all five very real problems that I think can be remedied. It does alleviate some stress to know that while our restrooms look and feel like a men's restroom, rumor has it the women's restroom has a certain methadone clinic in Bosnia atmosphere.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
Perspective
I feel like I'm taking crazy pills.
Michael Jackson treated 4 year-olds like bowling balls. Then he made them get on a giraffe and call him Scooby. Let's put this shit in perspective.
I don't know when the "King of Pop" turned into Mother Teresa but hundreds paying homage to his walk-of-fame star and standing hours outside UCLA medical center is just this side of lame. I'm not saying it is perverse. I'm just saying it is without warrant.
My life is too short to have a wake for someone I never met and at best could have been a nice guy and at worse could have had sex with children. I mean I'm sad the music died, but seriously, perspective people. Can we wikipedia for just a second to clarify that "King of Pop" is just a fictional title? We do know there is no real kingdom, right folks? It means he was a genius at making songs and dancing and stuff.
Think about this. He most likely, and when I say most likely its the same as OJ Simpson was "most likely" a murder so its a "most likely" that means the same as "is," with 100% certainty, was a child molester.
He slept with children in his bed and went on national TV and said he felt pretty normal about it, because that's how you "show love." He also "most likely" drank with children and "most likely" had sexual activities with them. So I'm supposed to take that knowledge and throw it out the window because he sang about a fucking mouse (Ben). Jesus Christ people! Mourn the music but lets keep the deification to a minimum.
Again I am sad the music is gone, I really am. And Michael's life did not necessitate me writing this. The reaction that you have shown necessitates this.
To the guy that had pictures of Michael in his office from 1972 and is on my TV right now: I appreciate you went to his concert when you were 15 and it blew your mind. I can't fathom that kind of experience other than probably sex and a really good cheeseburger. It must have been extreme though because you are on CNN right now paying tribute to the same man that saw the movie "The Sandlot" with his pants down and a bottle of Jergen's nearby. Meanwhile all a really good cheeseburger does is continue to be tasty, innocent children unharmed.
Play your music people. I am. I've been bumpin' that mouse song for hours now. I'm just saying do we need to talk about it further than that? Do we need to cry for a man that believed the pinnacle of beauty was to look like Skeletor? I will pour one out for MJ, blast his hits, and leave it at that. You should too.
Spend more time with people in your life that make a real difference. Use the hours you would have taken to go sit at Neverland Ranch for some real good. Macaulay Culkin would have wanted it that way after all.
Michael Jackson treated 4 year-olds like bowling balls. Then he made them get on a giraffe and call him Scooby. Let's put this shit in perspective.
I don't know when the "King of Pop" turned into Mother Teresa but hundreds paying homage to his walk-of-fame star and standing hours outside UCLA medical center is just this side of lame. I'm not saying it is perverse. I'm just saying it is without warrant.
My life is too short to have a wake for someone I never met and at best could have been a nice guy and at worse could have had sex with children. I mean I'm sad the music died, but seriously, perspective people. Can we wikipedia for just a second to clarify that "King of Pop" is just a fictional title? We do know there is no real kingdom, right folks? It means he was a genius at making songs and dancing and stuff.
Think about this. He most likely, and when I say most likely its the same as OJ Simpson was "most likely" a murder so its a "most likely" that means the same as "is," with 100% certainty, was a child molester.
He slept with children in his bed and went on national TV and said he felt pretty normal about it, because that's how you "show love." He also "most likely" drank with children and "most likely" had sexual activities with them. So I'm supposed to take that knowledge and throw it out the window because he sang about a fucking mouse (Ben). Jesus Christ people! Mourn the music but lets keep the deification to a minimum.
Again I am sad the music is gone, I really am. And Michael's life did not necessitate me writing this. The reaction that you have shown necessitates this.
To the guy that had pictures of Michael in his office from 1972 and is on my TV right now: I appreciate you went to his concert when you were 15 and it blew your mind. I can't fathom that kind of experience other than probably sex and a really good cheeseburger. It must have been extreme though because you are on CNN right now paying tribute to the same man that saw the movie "The Sandlot" with his pants down and a bottle of Jergen's nearby. Meanwhile all a really good cheeseburger does is continue to be tasty, innocent children unharmed.
Play your music people. I am. I've been bumpin' that mouse song for hours now. I'm just saying do we need to talk about it further than that? Do we need to cry for a man that believed the pinnacle of beauty was to look like Skeletor? I will pour one out for MJ, blast his hits, and leave it at that. You should too.
Spend more time with people in your life that make a real difference. Use the hours you would have taken to go sit at Neverland Ranch for some real good. Macaulay Culkin would have wanted it that way after all.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Uncle Darrow's
Once in a while I visit an eatery that typifies passion and dedication. I recently visited Uncle Darrow's Cajun eatery and realized why I love this place. The owner Ronald and the rest of the staff just plain care.
Upon entering the establishment you are typically greeted and asked if you are visiting for your first time. If it is, be prepared for a friendly rundown of the menu and some free samples. I would recommend limiting your samples as you will want to order everything you taste.
Here is the overlying problem with Uncle Darrow's. The food is not good for a motivated person. My favorite Po' Boy is the Zeke. It is a combination of bread, fried catfish, fried shrimp, and potato salad. You see, there is no way to get any errands done after eating a sandwich like that. I recently had half a Zeke, jambalaya, and gumbo from Uncle Darrow's. I immediately went home and stared at a wall for three hours.
Normally food of this weight would be hard to get through. It can be easy to over fry or under fry and get the food all greasy. This is far from true at Uncle Darrow's. The seafood is always served hot, fresh, and crispy. My favorite side may just be their File Gumbo, a sopping concoction of shrimp, crab, and sausage with a hint of spice.
Either way I cannot recommend this place enough. I would just pencil in a nap after visiting.
Upon entering the establishment you are typically greeted and asked if you are visiting for your first time. If it is, be prepared for a friendly rundown of the menu and some free samples. I would recommend limiting your samples as you will want to order everything you taste.
Here is the overlying problem with Uncle Darrow's. The food is not good for a motivated person. My favorite Po' Boy is the Zeke. It is a combination of bread, fried catfish, fried shrimp, and potato salad. You see, there is no way to get any errands done after eating a sandwich like that. I recently had half a Zeke, jambalaya, and gumbo from Uncle Darrow's. I immediately went home and stared at a wall for three hours.
Normally food of this weight would be hard to get through. It can be easy to over fry or under fry and get the food all greasy. This is far from true at Uncle Darrow's. The seafood is always served hot, fresh, and crispy. My favorite side may just be their File Gumbo, a sopping concoction of shrimp, crab, and sausage with a hint of spice.
Either way I cannot recommend this place enough. I would just pencil in a nap after visiting.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Laker Bandwagon Getting Full
All Aboard
There they are folks. They range in intimidation factor from hardened criminal to IT administrative assistant. Let's have fun!
The NBA playoffs are a lot like pregnancy. You are excited at first then after nine months you just want to get it over with. The interim is spent on the couch being all gassy.
What some sports would consider the length of a regular season, the NBA considers brief enough for a post season. And here we are at the tail end of it. After 40 games in 40 nights we now have two teams vying for the trophy.
Try as ESPN might to pit this as a Kobe vs. Dwight series, the crucial battle will come down to Lamar/Ariza vs. Turkoglu/Lewis. I guess I could go on spouting statistics and predictions, but I am little irked today.
You see whenever the Lakers make it deep in the playoffs, fair weather fans come out of the woodwork to glom onto the party train. It starts innocent enough, a Laker flag here and a mention of Kobe there. Sure we can all take pride in in DJ Mbenga's disproportionately small head. And yes we can all bask in the glory of Kobe's farts. But it ain't all gravy. Being a complete dork of a fan, I watch all season and revel in both the good and the outright stinky.
Most bandwagoners fail to realize that a little over two years ago Kobe Bryant was determined to run Andrew Bynum out of town. Purple and Gold morale was at an untimely low. The Lakers looked more like the pack that ran with Del Harris then those that capped off a three peat of titles earlier in the decade. There were no tacos at the end of games. A sigh and sense of a relief were our only reward.
Then it all started to come together. That Bynum kid was alright. The Lakers got some momentum going and a playoff berth seemed inevitable. Then tragedy hit. You don't know what it feels like when your young center goes down twice, in the same month, in consecutive years, to the same team. You feel jinxed, You feel doomed.
Then like a spanish Jesus Pau came to save the day. The he ruined the party by getting dunked on frequently in the finals last year. Look, you haven't spent game after game yelling at Lamar Odom for being a no show, then applauding his immense talent, in the same game! Maybe you have witnessed Pau and his offensive prowess. But I know you bandwagoners look away when he diminishes on the defensive end. I do not. I take it all in; every basket, every tech, every 20 point blow out, every 20 point drubbing.
So please forgive me if become a little annoyed at the person on the street wearing a Laker shirt today when yesterday they didn't know when the Finals started. I'm not saying you have to wear purple everyday, just be able to name the last second-round draft pick to start a playoff game for the Lakers. That will do.
There they are folks. They range in intimidation factor from hardened criminal to IT administrative assistant. Let's have fun!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The Hollenbeck Burrito
A burrito should strike fear when it is placed before you. That is the main difference between a burrito and some stuff wrapped in a tortilla. A burrito should necessitate a plan of action. You should have to take a second and realize that the plans you may have had for the rest of the day will go unfulfilled. That's a burrito.
I happen to be indulging at the moment in what I and many others find to be the pinnacle of Los Angeles burritos, the Hollenbeck. El Tepeyac, Manuel's to many, has always been a special place to me. My parents would take us when the mood struck and we were good. That's right. When other kids were being taken to the circus or a museum I was being carted off to eat burritos.
The Hollenbeck is about a pound and a half of meat and rice and beans and guacamole all placed perfectly together in a tortilla like a boy band about to go on tour. Like said boy band they rock the shit out of my taste buds. The meat is stewed all day in a red chile sauce giving each bite a tender texture. You get plenty of meat throughout and a ladle is generously portioned on top of the burrito. That's right. After they run out of room stuffing the burrito with meat they scoop some on top. Why? Because more meat won't fit in the burrito, that's why!
When you first get your burrito you immediately realize that it is as big as an infant. Sometimes I don't know whether to eat it or raise it to be something in this world: doctor, lawyer, hell something honorable. I mean at the very least something better than me at this time. I often think my burrito could be a major league baseball star if it just applied itself. Burritos. Right? Ah, you have to let them make their own mistakes I guess.
Immediately after you eat this tortilla baby you are faced with two brutal truths: 1) You now realize you have no self respect and probably could have saved some of that burrito for later but were smitten with the taste of gently stewed pork chunks, and 2) You need to get home as soon as possible.
I happen to be indulging at the moment in what I and many others find to be the pinnacle of Los Angeles burritos, the Hollenbeck. El Tepeyac, Manuel's to many, has always been a special place to me. My parents would take us when the mood struck and we were good. That's right. When other kids were being taken to the circus or a museum I was being carted off to eat burritos.
The Hollenbeck is about a pound and a half of meat and rice and beans and guacamole all placed perfectly together in a tortilla like a boy band about to go on tour. Like said boy band they rock the shit out of my taste buds. The meat is stewed all day in a red chile sauce giving each bite a tender texture. You get plenty of meat throughout and a ladle is generously portioned on top of the burrito. That's right. After they run out of room stuffing the burrito with meat they scoop some on top. Why? Because more meat won't fit in the burrito, that's why!
When you first get your burrito you immediately realize that it is as big as an infant. Sometimes I don't know whether to eat it or raise it to be something in this world: doctor, lawyer, hell something honorable. I mean at the very least something better than me at this time. I often think my burrito could be a major league baseball star if it just applied itself. Burritos. Right? Ah, you have to let them make their own mistakes I guess.
Immediately after you eat this tortilla baby you are faced with two brutal truths: 1) You now realize you have no self respect and probably could have saved some of that burrito for later but were smitten with the taste of gently stewed pork chunks, and 2) You need to get home as soon as possible.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Becoming a Fan
I've been a soccer fan for a few years now and have followed Chelsea for that same amount of time. I have always considered myself one of the Chelsea faithful but have not been so convinced of that fact until today.
Growing up around sports I find it is easy to follow your team when the going is good and the wins are easy. Living in L.A. I may have become a Dodgers and Lakers fan regardless of winning percentage. But the fact that my developmental years were spent watching around the back passes from Magic to Worthy and shutout innings being thrown by Orel Hershiser made it easier to fall in love with those teams.
Yet you never feel quite complete as a fan until your team loses a big game. You never truly understand what the rooting did to you emotionally and physically. You back a team through the thick and stick with them through the thin because that is your conviction and that is who you choose to trust. When the people you trust break your heart you know you are invested for life.
I remember 1989 and the Piston's sweep of the Lakers in the finals. Being nine at the time I don't mind telling you I cried that night. I remember the ineptitude of the early ninety Dodgers teams. They had me holding onto the dream that we could repeat the miracle of '88.
At almost thirty years old, I had the same experience yet again. Nil-nil going into today's second leg semi-final, Chelsea lost in injury time to Barcelona. They finished ninety minutes as the assured finalists in this years Champions League final match. They came within a minute and a half of completing something worthwhile to a lackluster season. As does happen so often in sport. The unexpected happenened.
Barcelona scored with little time left in injury time allowing them to go ahead in the tie breaker scenario. When Iniesta connected with the ball my heartbroke. In so many of these events in my life. I know when the inevitable is about to happen. As the ball swept passed Cech's outstretched arm I buried my head in my hands in disgust.
I can take refuge in the fact that I am part of a faithful of Chelsea fan that felt the same way today. I can take soalce in the fact that we will have no alternative but wait until next season to root again. I can take pride in the fact that there is nothing more I can do about the pain. I am a Chelsea fan after all.
Growing up around sports I find it is easy to follow your team when the going is good and the wins are easy. Living in L.A. I may have become a Dodgers and Lakers fan regardless of winning percentage. But the fact that my developmental years were spent watching around the back passes from Magic to Worthy and shutout innings being thrown by Orel Hershiser made it easier to fall in love with those teams.
Yet you never feel quite complete as a fan until your team loses a big game. You never truly understand what the rooting did to you emotionally and physically. You back a team through the thick and stick with them through the thin because that is your conviction and that is who you choose to trust. When the people you trust break your heart you know you are invested for life.
I remember 1989 and the Piston's sweep of the Lakers in the finals. Being nine at the time I don't mind telling you I cried that night. I remember the ineptitude of the early ninety Dodgers teams. They had me holding onto the dream that we could repeat the miracle of '88.
At almost thirty years old, I had the same experience yet again. Nil-nil going into today's second leg semi-final, Chelsea lost in injury time to Barcelona. They finished ninety minutes as the assured finalists in this years Champions League final match. They came within a minute and a half of completing something worthwhile to a lackluster season. As does happen so often in sport. The unexpected happenened.
Barcelona scored with little time left in injury time allowing them to go ahead in the tie breaker scenario. When Iniesta connected with the ball my heartbroke. In so many of these events in my life. I know when the inevitable is about to happen. As the ball swept passed Cech's outstretched arm I buried my head in my hands in disgust.
I can take refuge in the fact that I am part of a faithful of Chelsea fan that felt the same way today. I can take soalce in the fact that we will have no alternative but wait until next season to root again. I can take pride in the fact that there is nothing more I can do about the pain. I am a Chelsea fan after all.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Weekend Tacos
A Saturday so filled with amazing sport is usually saved for late March. Though in May, tomorrow should give us ample opportunity to sit on the couch and not move for three or ten hours. So here are the top three tacos to watch Saturday, complete with which method of drink you should be pounding.
135th Kentucky Derby
The main race should be around 3PST. So my morning may consist of looking for ingredients for my mint julep and a very large hat. This may be a tight one as there are no clear cut favorites this time around. The early favorite is 'I want Revenge' who is now going off at 3-1. The most interesting horse is the colt 'Pioneer of the Nile.' He has the strength and longevity to finish but has only been a turf or synthetic surface horse until now. If he transitions to dirt well he may be near the top at the turn.
What to drink
Mint Julep There is something sophisticated yet down home about a mint julep. In fact its the only cocktail that you can sip while wearning boxers and no shirt and still be snooty about it.
The Game Seven to end all Game Sevens
Ever since Game six between the Boston Celtics and the Chicago Bulls occurred every sports pundit has touted this series as the greatest thing to happen since late night spaghetti bowls before bed. It has been a great series. But the fact remains that the winner will still lose to Cleveland eventually. However, because almost every game this series has been a close, hard hitting, controversy inducing match up, I will not miss seven. Well at least not the fourth quarter.
What to Drink
Because of the location, you have to go Sam Adams. By now you should have a euphoric feeling of malaise. It's ok tomorrow is Sunday and you have nothing to do.
Pacquiao v. Hatton
Last time I saw Pacquiao fighting he was beating up a poor old Mexican lady. No one seemed to care either. They just allowed the Phillipino pugilist to land blow after blow on the defenseless Oscar Dela Hoya. It was a scary sight but I couldn't divert my eyes. PacMan's complete beat down on Dela Hoya illustrated his veracity at pretty much any weight class. I would be ready to bet the farm on his ability to dismantle Hatton if it weren't for Floyd Mayweather Sr. and his dedication to defense. Hatton has always been a puncher that would come at you and worry about the repercussions later. Having a stiff chin and deft swing allows that. However, this fight is different. Pacquaio can fly around the ring and will most assuredly get his punches in. If Hatton learned to dodge this late in his career this may just be better than the beating of an old Mexican I saw last year.
What to Drink
San Miguel or Guinness - Then take a nap.
135th Kentucky Derby
The main race should be around 3PST. So my morning may consist of looking for ingredients for my mint julep and a very large hat. This may be a tight one as there are no clear cut favorites this time around. The early favorite is 'I want Revenge' who is now going off at 3-1. The most interesting horse is the colt 'Pioneer of the Nile.' He has the strength and longevity to finish but has only been a turf or synthetic surface horse until now. If he transitions to dirt well he may be near the top at the turn.
What to drink
Mint Julep There is something sophisticated yet down home about a mint julep. In fact its the only cocktail that you can sip while wearning boxers and no shirt and still be snooty about it.
The Game Seven to end all Game Sevens
Ever since Game six between the Boston Celtics and the Chicago Bulls occurred every sports pundit has touted this series as the greatest thing to happen since late night spaghetti bowls before bed. It has been a great series. But the fact remains that the winner will still lose to Cleveland eventually. However, because almost every game this series has been a close, hard hitting, controversy inducing match up, I will not miss seven. Well at least not the fourth quarter.
What to Drink
Because of the location, you have to go Sam Adams. By now you should have a euphoric feeling of malaise. It's ok tomorrow is Sunday and you have nothing to do.
Pacquiao v. Hatton
Last time I saw Pacquiao fighting he was beating up a poor old Mexican lady. No one seemed to care either. They just allowed the Phillipino pugilist to land blow after blow on the defenseless Oscar Dela Hoya. It was a scary sight but I couldn't divert my eyes. PacMan's complete beat down on Dela Hoya illustrated his veracity at pretty much any weight class. I would be ready to bet the farm on his ability to dismantle Hatton if it weren't for Floyd Mayweather Sr. and his dedication to defense. Hatton has always been a puncher that would come at you and worry about the repercussions later. Having a stiff chin and deft swing allows that. However, this fight is different. Pacquaio can fly around the ring and will most assuredly get his punches in. If Hatton learned to dodge this late in his career this may just be better than the beating of an old Mexican I saw last year.
What to Drink
San Miguel or Guinness - Then take a nap.
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