Saturday Grab-Bag

This picture of me and Mitch has been on the fridge for a while but I thought it was worth sharing with the world. For reference, this is the morning after we got to New Orleans in 1999 (I think) for Mardi Gras. Look how tough we are, what with the cigarettes and white-dude gang signs!


Yes, those are the remnants of blond in my hair. That's what's called being with it.

I may or may not include my childhood dog in new tattoo. The whole inside of the arm is free, and lookit!


Mini Restaurant Review Time! Ray's Hell Burger (sister restaurant of Ray's the Steaks/the Classics) is right next to Pho 75, so it's taken us a while to have a burger instead of delicious soup. Today we did.
It comes with corn on the cob and watermelon, and Dominion's draft root beer is available in chilled mugs. Verdict: read the last sentence. Duh.

The Olympic opening ceremonies were last night, which resulted in a treasure trove of text messages. A couple good ones:

from Anne: look @ team usa's gear. they are so ready for yacht rock

another from Anne: i'm pretty sure craig sager's tailor makes bank outfitting olympians*

Craig Sager

from Joe: do you think bush is at the olympics in hopes of an assassination as a graceful way out of a failing presidency?

*Thing I learned from Craig Sager's Wikipedia page: he was waiting for Hank Aaron at home plate after his 715th home run. (36 second mark here)

Welcome to Saturday. Now: Time for You to be Chastised!

Have you seen Honky Tonk Freeway? No? Why not? What the hell is wrong with you? Were you born stupid, or did you choose to become such an idiot? I'm guessing it's the latter.

Don't worry, though. It's been on TMC a lot lately. A LOT. Quick summation: Mad Mad World (or for this generation, Rat Race) meets Smokey and the Bandit meets most any Jim Jarmusch movie. Oh--and throw in a healthy dose of Ishtar and Waterworld.

Look at all the people in it:


Plays an alcoholic, married to best-Hollywood-name-ever, Hume Cronyn:


Plus: The cop who wasn't Chris Noth from the first season of Law & Order; Daniel Stern, as a coke fiend who is "Going to the Super Bowl to sell some co-caine"; Beau Bridges; Howard Hesseman; Terri Garr (AKA Mrs. Dad); William Devane; Deborah Rush. In short, it's a veritable hey it's that guy movie classic.

Also: Beverly D'Angelo plays a nymphomaniac waitress who carries her mother's ashes with her everywhere she goes. This should be reason enough to watch it (next Thursday at 4:40pm).

This is reason enough to buy a new iPhone.

Two Reviews in One Day OMG ICBITIFA

In his review of this phlog, Patrick asked for more reviews of things he'd like to eat. Two months later, I get around to it.

Behold something I'm betting Patrick likes to eat Vol. 1:

STAR CRUNCH

Star Crunch, for the sad and pathetic among you who don't know, is a Little Debbie product consisting of the following, probably: chocolate, caramel, rice crispies, soy lecithin.

First off, the packaging:

1. The shit is 35 cents. Can't beat it.
2. Star Crunch is not a meal, people. It is a snack.
3. Since there is nothing star-related in the snack itself--it would be more aptly named ChocoCrispyCrunch, in my opinion--Little Debbie had to add some star bursts to justify calling it Star Crunch. Which is cool with me.

Now the product:

The delicious center is chocolatey and gooey, true, but the true joy of eating a Star Crunch is in the anticipation. See it is imperative that one nibble off the outer coating of rice crispies--which are lightly coated in chocolate and really don't have much taste or texture and aren't very rewarding at all as far as snacks are concerned--before taking a full bite. Withholding that immediate sensory pleasure makes the experience that much more rewarding. Believe it.

In other news here's the tentative route for Road Trip USA, set to leave June 1:


View Larger Map

So here's your job, people. Give us places to visit in the following cities:

1. Pittsburgh
2. Columbus, OH
3. Cincinnati
4. Louisville
5. Bowling Green, KY
6. Nashville
7. Memphis (aside from the obvious)
8. Jackson, MS
9. Baton Rouge, LA
10. Houston

PS: ICBITIFA = I Can't Believe It This Is Fucking Awesome

Revisión del Concierto: Las Llaves del Negro

DC has a particular concert culture. People who have no interest in going to shows buy up dozens of tickets when they go on sale in order to scalp them at huge markups. This leads to the second thing, which is that the concerts are full of boring people who talk incessantly and barely look like they're enjoying the thing they paid $125 to see.

So I love things like last night, when I looked on Craigslist at about 5pm and saw that the price of the night's Black Keys concert had dropped to below face value.

The show was good, and they played "Strange Times" which was nice to hear before the jukebox at work kills it for me forever. Which it will. Just like Johnny Cash and Gnarls Barkley. I'd say Regina Spektor too, but she was dead to me before the jukebox entered the equation. Play "Fidelity" while I'm on the clock and you're losing your money, people. Sorries. That song can suck it.

Back to the review. Please reference the diagram:

1. Drummer

2. Guitarist

3. This group of dudes in their mid-thirties or early forties, one of whom was wearing a "Do the Roo" shirt.

I'll only expand on number three, because reviews of one and two can be found in lots of places, but reviews of number three cannot. This group of dudes was happy to be there. So much so that they were making awesome hand gestures at particular points in the show. Say there's a really good riff in a song; in that case, at least two of the dudes will throw up their hands like so:



In the case of a sweet drumline, hands would again be thrown. But like this:

At first glance this group of dudes appeared to be lame. But eventually we decided that we all wanted to party with them in Loudon County which is the only possible place these dudes were from.

A funny thing about this show is that everybody there got drunk at exactly the same time. It was about 10:45. People started falling into me on their way to the bar. This dude especially though--he almost knocked me over and then stood right in front of me. So I took a picture of his bald spot, natch.




Come to Teebz' going-away party if you know him. We'll be taking the old West Virginia-Louisville-Memphis-New Orleans-Austin route.


I just clicked on the "Blogs" tab on MySpace and found the two most amazing blogs in the world. The first is called "I Believe in God" and is full of capital letters and great renaissance-related religious artwork. In the words of its author, it is dedicated wholly to finding "how many people we can reach in MySpace that believes in God." Yes.

But that's not all! The next one discusses how God exists. BECAUSE OF SCIENCE.

Reviews of New Cereals, Plus More Examples of the Taxing Life of Being a Cat that Sleeps All the Time

First, my brother and his girlfriend were in town this week, enjoying the rain, and we went to the Quarry House for some more pickles

then down the street to AFI for the Robert Mitchum retrospective, which was playing Thunder Road. If you haven't seen it, Mitchum plays a moonshine runner through the hills of Tennessee in the 50s. He is easily the toughest, most smooth-talking Tennessee moonshine runner I've ever seen on film, with nary a hint of a southern accent. Verdict: rent it, then go to DollyWood and ride Thunder Road: the Ride.


So. The other day at the grocery store I looked at the cereal aisle, which I never do because I never eat cereal. What I learned there was that the nation's cereal manufacturers have lost their damned minds. For serious, look: Froot Loops with Darkberries? What, did they run out of types of berries to add, so they just made up Darkberries? Or was it the fact that they're not berries at all, so you had to make up a new word that connotes berries but isn't tied to the idea that there is actually fruit in the cereal? Why not Goozleberries or Flibbleberries? Either of those names would be cooler and less ominous-sounding than Darkberries.


In other Froot Loops-makes-up-words-news, here is this thing called Froot Loops Smoothie, which includes "Yogurty-covered pieces," which might be the grossest thing I've ever heard about.


And Frosted Flakes has entered the small-but-growing energy drink/cereal crossover world.


And now the magazines in the grocery stores, they tell you what you think before you even think it. Like here where they tell me that I don't think Hilary Duff is edgy.









I got bored yesterday and played a free poker tournament online. I won a ticket to another tournament which if I win will give me a seat to this year's World Series of Poker. I predict that should be easy enough.

Apartment Overkill Plus New Sweet Ink

You'll forgive me if I go overboard on the whole new apartment thing. I will give you a quick rundown of my living spaces since leaving my parents' house at 18 as justification:

1996: Dorm room, 9'x14', shared with redneck chainsmoker. Upside: my parents don't live there. Downside: demerits if a girl is there past 11pm. Not that my game was capable of making that happen at that point.

1997: Dorm room, 7'x14', most of which was comprised of bicycles and computers. Upside: no redneck chainsmoker. Downside: 2 sq ft of unused space.

1998: Apartment, downtown Rome, GA. Upside: First and nicest apartment of my life. Downside: the walls were really just partitions so anyone in the apartment could hear when anybody else was doing it, and then it got condemned

1999: Lived on friend's floor with girlfriend cuz I didn't have a place. Upside: the floor was carpeted. Downside: it was the floor

1999: Massive apartment complex. Upside: wall-to-wall carpeting. Downside: wall-to-wall carpeting.

2000: "House"= back end of house with two living rooms, a laundry room and zero bedrooms. Upside: $370 a month. Downside: holes in floor, possible dead babies in crawlspace.

2001: 400 sq ft apartment in downtown Salt Lake City. Upside: centrally located. Downside: downtown Salt Lake City.

2002: Cabin in Athens, GA. Upside: rustic. Downside: Cabins don't have air conditioning.

2002: 1 br in downtown Washington, DC. Upside: not a bad size. Downside: physically impossible for natural light to enter.

2005: Basement of current house. Upside: can see sky from window. Downside: creeping mold entering from center of room.

And that brings us current. Now it's bragtime USA:












I've never been one for memorial tattoos, or even tattoos that mean anything whatsoever, but when my Grandma died I knew I wanted to get something. So I got a lamp.



So Patrick blogviewed my phlog:


and then Murph Murphviewed Patrick's blogview. This shit just got meta, people.

DeffoReview of Things: Hockey Edition

I saw my Canadian friend yesterday (she was picking up Canada-related signage, natch), and decided that it was time to include some more Canada-related phlogging here.

The only Canadian thing I can think of is hockey, a sport that I haven't watched since I was a sophomore in high school and my girlfriend's family was from Detroit. Which means that I watched some Red Wings' games while surrounded by mustachioed uncles drinking canned beer. With that in mind, here is the DeffoReview of Things: Hockey Edition!

Seems obvious to start off with the Stanley-Cupping Edmonton Oilers! Esa Tikkanen, who has the most enforcey-type name in the NHL, is doing some great enforcing for his team.



I'm sure The Great One is happy to have you on his side, Esa!

Brett Hull!


Also, how proud are you Phlyers fans of your little Eric Lindros? I'm pretty sure he hasn't killed anybody this season.


Coach Gordon would love to have you on his team, Eric!

Finally, the best thing about hockey is this guy, who reminds us that helmets are for lady boys. AND HIS NAME IS CRAIG MACTAVISH


Nobody else named Craig Mactavish has ever done anything tough, ever. So this one should be proud of himself.


BONUSBONUSBONUS Finally got to see my roommate's band, Cloak/Dagger, play a show this weekend. They are the first band I've seen in a decade wherein no band members wore facial hair.

DeffoProductReview! LG VENUS!!! Verdict: Jealousy-Inducing and Cryptic

So I got a new phone because my RAZR, the phone which everybody hates and has always hated, started to crap out after two years. After exhaustively researching the phone that would make people the most jealous of me, I decided on the LG Venus, which is basically like the LG Chocolate but bigger and more celestial. So I ordered it from the Verizon website last week.

(Oh wait! You already know this story. It ends with me calling Verizon, them telling me they never got the order, me going to the store to buy it, only to come home to an email from Verizon with my confirmation number for the order that doesn't exist. Thank god I just re-upped for another 2 years! But anyway, I got the phone.)

Verdict? It's totally gonna make people jealous. Especially the music player! You can upload mp3s from your computer and listen to them on your phone! Zzzz! WITH BLUETOOTH! I zapped a couple over after I got home and fired it up... Look!


Wait, Venus! I just did add songs! Why you asking me to add some mores? That's weird as hell! Oh well, not to worry. I'll just use the ol' V-Cast music service, which is made by Verizon for Verizon and is pretty much just like perfect.


Maybe I'll download Chris Browzzle's new jamzzle so I can listen to it and use it as a ringtone! That will be sick!


I keep trying, Verizon V-Cast Music Service, and you keep asking me to try again! HOW LONG DO I KEEP TRYING?!

Luckily, there is a fallback plan: I can always hook the phone up directly to the computer, like analog style. Glitch-proof, if you will:


I guess the phone needs its software to "interface" with my computer. Let's give that a try! Mac, do your business! Click on the ol' install icon:


It's gonna take me forever to figure out what this means, so I'll just click on the next icon! Ooh, it's opening a program!!!


In conclusion, it's weird that Verizon wants me to play 4-in-a-row in order to download music to my phone. Cryptic, even.



BONUSBONUSBONUS Proof that Ana actually likes fat cat

DeffoFoodReview: BistroTimeUSA

It's a little late, but we've never been to CENTRAL MICHEL RICHARD, and I have a camera now so it seemed like time for the first true DeffoReview of Foods.

CENTRAL MICHEL RICHARD is a "bistro," for the purposes of the fact that they wanted to make hamburgers and one can't do that at MICHEL RICHARD CITRONELLE, presumably for fear that people might mistake his high-end restaurant for a barbecue bug-b-gone device.

Anybody with two restaurants with his name in them has got to be a good chef, right? Of course! He's really good! How about the design of the place? As my dad likes to say, as a designer, he makes a really good chef. Nyuk! Narf!

Washingtonian notes the "endless blond wood, clean lines, and air of casual brilliance" in the dining room. Hey Ana! What do you think of that?


Yes. Big orbs scream casual brilliance.


"Blond wood" = fake and plastic, a la our most luxurious chain hotels!


But if you put delicious foods on top of plastic tables, it's still delicious. These things on the right are called "Gougères," which means either "cheese puff" or "venereal disease" depending on what the context is (for reals). Thinking about this linguistic overlap is gross, but the cheese puffs were really delicious.


Because the restaurant is on Pennsylvania Avenue, reviews always mention that "power brokers" "hobnob" there. The place was full, but I didn't see anybody powerbroking (unless you include our great overlord).

I did, however, see a middle-aged woman shoveling salad into her mouth with a strained look on her face like this:


But anyway. Less about me, more about food! Enough Tim Carmaning! (Side note: Hey Tim! How about a description of a dish at some point in your next review! Thanks!)

It's a bistro, but it's still fancy and frenchy, so I figured that my fried chicken would be a piece of chicken lightly breaded with a fancy sauce drizzled in an asymmetrical pattern over the top. In reality, the dish is 4' x 6' (see fig. below), and comes with 1.5 gal of creamy mustard sauce in a gravy boat, two whole perfectly-fried chickens, and 3lb of rich, creamy pureed potatoes.

Junk is delicious. For actualies.


Ana got "pied de cochon," which we assumed meant "to walk like a pig," i.e. some sort of slow-roasted dish. We were totally wrong. It actually means "ground up pig, wrapped in dough with spices and vegetables, and fried so as to look like a pig's foot." Trust me-the latter is infinitely more delicious than the former. They had to bring a new table to fit the 5' x 5' plate:

Then we had coffee.

(There you have it, people: the perfect food review. You're welcome.)

BONUSBONUSBONUS

Me and Riff Raff's Prom picture (look how short!):


OMG MURPH'S CHIN IS FREE, LADIES


Two new superheroes arise out of the mist, driven by their dramatically different shoe sizes:


Nerds remain nerds, people.