Apparently Christmas Eve is a big party holiday in Milwaukee, judging by all the vomit and broken glass on the sidewalks Monday morning. Maybe just a warm-up for New Year's Eve... oh, and I just heard that they rescheduled the Packers and Bears game for that very EVENING, as if there wasn't going to be enough beer sold! Then the Badger's play on New Year's Day. I'd say the best strategy might be to not start drinking until the Packer's game STARTS, and then stay drunk THROUGH the Badger's game the next day. The winner will face the winner of the methamphetamine brain damaged deer hunters vs. deer hunters with dementia death match in the Kohler Coliseum in February.
I went to see Apocalypto on Christmas Day, hoping to start a new tradition, and indeed, the green of the forest along with the blood decorated bodies, topped with bleeding, throbbing just removed hearts, made for a festive color scheme. I was really hoping that the extreme, graphic nature of the violence would make up for the clichéd action and story and make me physically ill, but I'm afraid that I was already desensitized by the nachos I made the mistake of buying to hold me over until post movie Paul's Omega. They consisted of a very rattley plastic bag of tortilla chips and a plastic tub of warm, runny, orange cheese substance, which ran all over my hands, my coat, my pants, the seat next to me, and the little kid in the family next to me. As long as it was hot it was edible, I guess, which is, I guess, back to the movie, why they started cooking animal flesh in the first place. Anyway, in the head to head grossness contest, the nacho cheese spread beat out the wild pig testicles… sorry!
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Monday, December 11, 2006
Mia Farrow
I’m sitting at the counter of The Plaza where it is entirely too hot—everywhere I go in the Midwest it’s too hot—when they aren’t cranking up the air conditioning they crank up the heat. It’s too hot everywhere. I can’t even spend a half hour in the Main library, it’s always so hot, and airless. What’s with these Midwest people and their heat? I thought we were supposed to be a bunch of farmers and Germans, up early milking the cows, all that. How did we get to be a bunch of grandmas in rest homes—85 degrees, with blankets over us. I think it’s because people no longer have any circulation because they drive everywhere. The typical person in the Midwest doesn’t walk more than one block at a time (ample parking!) and then not every day. I’m wearing long pants and a long sleeve shirt of some cotton material, but I’m sweating like a pig! That’s why I always put on a liberal amount of patchouli—it blends well with the sweat and body odor—at least as far as I'm concerned! And the ladies seem to like it.
I’m looking across the counter and I see that there is a bottle of SKOL vodka sitting on the shelf (below number “11”—the places at the counter are marked with numbers) That’s ODD—I’ve never seen anyone in here drinking vodka.
A woman came in by herself—rare for a diner!—but not rare for this place, really—she’s pretty attractive—she looks like Mia Farrow. She immediately takes off her shirt—she’s a little warm, I guess, and she’s wearing a white turtleneck underneath. (No wonder she’s hot—turtlenecks almost kill me no matter what the weather.) Maybe she’ll keep taking shirts off. I think it would be cool if she would be sitting here in her bra. But no—a guy comes in to join her—they’re meeting here. He’s talking non-stop, now. Though I did hear HER say something about how it’s almost the first day of winter. But it’s surprisingly warm out, though it looks like it should be cold—all overcast and dreary, and it got pretty cold last week. But now it’s warm again, and humid, and all gross and moist.
She didn’t say that. That was me thinking about the weather. She is quiet, now, just nodding. She is listening attentively to the guy talking non-stop She’s a good listener—nodding, interested—then suddenly she gets a call on her cell phone and has to go off and take the call—but at least she leaves the room. She comes back shortly, sits down, and the man takes a breath and gets back into his long oration. Her phone rings again, she looks at it, frowns, and excuses herself again. The man looks really annoyed this time. I wonder if people who are good listeners are good cell phone listeners—I mean, people who you know you can call and they’ll answer. I get a feeling that it’s her kids calling—they are caught up in this and that.
It occurs to me that since the advent of cell phones it’s even WORSE to be a parent than ever before. (I mean, speaking of the drawbacks of parenthood—I know there is the good side!) You can NEVER get away from your kids now. Every time they have a question or a problem, they are going to call, and you HAVE to answer! I know this sounds like I’m a kid hater—it’s not THAT so much—though I HAVE chosen NOT to have kids—that I’ll admit. But what I’m complaining about here is not the kids—it’s just their nature to be impatient and call out to the parents for an answer—it’s the cell phone part of that equation—because cell phones are ADDICTIVE. The instant connection at your fingertips is addictive—your brain starts to transform—think differently (the nature of addiction) so that when you feel the slight twinge of a yearning for connection, you call. And whenever someone else feels that way, they call you (answering is also an addiction). It’s the same a s cigarettes and sugar, candy, food at hand—and TV—and the internet, email, checking your email constantly, looking things up on Google 100 times a day. (Not as a quest for knowledge, but for satisfaction!) The day… it’s quiet, you’re lonely, you feel a strange emptiness, you eat something, or get in your car and drive, the motion making you feel temporarily better, speed—you go somewhere you can spend money—shopping makes you feel better. Buy some cigarettes, smoking makes you feel better, or smoking weed. At least smoking weed tells it like it is. I’m going to go smoke some drugs!
I mean, not me. I’m just sitting here at The Plaza writing this in my notebook. It’s a healthy activity. I’d write more here, too, but I’ve got to get going, over to NODE and check my email.
I’m looking across the counter and I see that there is a bottle of SKOL vodka sitting on the shelf (below number “11”—the places at the counter are marked with numbers) That’s ODD—I’ve never seen anyone in here drinking vodka.
A woman came in by herself—rare for a diner!—but not rare for this place, really—she’s pretty attractive—she looks like Mia Farrow. She immediately takes off her shirt—she’s a little warm, I guess, and she’s wearing a white turtleneck underneath. (No wonder she’s hot—turtlenecks almost kill me no matter what the weather.) Maybe she’ll keep taking shirts off. I think it would be cool if she would be sitting here in her bra. But no—a guy comes in to join her—they’re meeting here. He’s talking non-stop, now. Though I did hear HER say something about how it’s almost the first day of winter. But it’s surprisingly warm out, though it looks like it should be cold—all overcast and dreary, and it got pretty cold last week. But now it’s warm again, and humid, and all gross and moist.
She didn’t say that. That was me thinking about the weather. She is quiet, now, just nodding. She is listening attentively to the guy talking non-stop She’s a good listener—nodding, interested—then suddenly she gets a call on her cell phone and has to go off and take the call—but at least she leaves the room. She comes back shortly, sits down, and the man takes a breath and gets back into his long oration. Her phone rings again, she looks at it, frowns, and excuses herself again. The man looks really annoyed this time. I wonder if people who are good listeners are good cell phone listeners—I mean, people who you know you can call and they’ll answer. I get a feeling that it’s her kids calling—they are caught up in this and that.
It occurs to me that since the advent of cell phones it’s even WORSE to be a parent than ever before. (I mean, speaking of the drawbacks of parenthood—I know there is the good side!) You can NEVER get away from your kids now. Every time they have a question or a problem, they are going to call, and you HAVE to answer! I know this sounds like I’m a kid hater—it’s not THAT so much—though I HAVE chosen NOT to have kids—that I’ll admit. But what I’m complaining about here is not the kids—it’s just their nature to be impatient and call out to the parents for an answer—it’s the cell phone part of that equation—because cell phones are ADDICTIVE. The instant connection at your fingertips is addictive—your brain starts to transform—think differently (the nature of addiction) so that when you feel the slight twinge of a yearning for connection, you call. And whenever someone else feels that way, they call you (answering is also an addiction). It’s the same a s cigarettes and sugar, candy, food at hand—and TV—and the internet, email, checking your email constantly, looking things up on Google 100 times a day. (Not as a quest for knowledge, but for satisfaction!) The day… it’s quiet, you’re lonely, you feel a strange emptiness, you eat something, or get in your car and drive, the motion making you feel temporarily better, speed—you go somewhere you can spend money—shopping makes you feel better. Buy some cigarettes, smoking makes you feel better, or smoking weed. At least smoking weed tells it like it is. I’m going to go smoke some drugs!
I mean, not me. I’m just sitting here at The Plaza writing this in my notebook. It’s a healthy activity. I’d write more here, too, but I’ve got to get going, over to NODE and check my email.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
I promise this is the last thing about grocery shopping I'll ever write!
And no more complaining, either. I'm just really really annoyed, because for awhile everything was really good in my life because my favorite grocery store was also the one three blocks away from my house. But then at about the time they opened the MetroMart, everything turned to shit at this Pick'n'Save. A friend of mine was checking out something, and didn't have her discount card, and she asked the check-out person to use hers, which they would always do before, and the check-out person said they weren't allowed to do that anymore since the store got bought by Roundy's. A new rule.
I don't know anything about Roundy's as a company (actually, I haven't looked into it because I don't WANT to find out something like they're big republican supporters and homophobic racists, or anything that would compel me NOT to shop there, because I don't have a car, and it's convenient). I know they are a HUGE company that owns like 150 grocery stores, and a lot of their Roundy's generic products are in these stores, at pretty good prices. But anyway, the thing I DO know is this grocery store went downhill fast.
I all but stopped shopping there, but I like that they're open at 6am, so I have someplace to walk to early and buy something before I start working on my memoirs. Lately, I've noticed that whenever I use that discount card, the check-out person seems really annoyed. I know that the check-out job must be a crappy job at times, and I don't expect them to be friendly or anything, and I always try to be polite and helpful and smile and everything. But also, those discount card things have always kind of bugged me because it allows the store to post really cheap prices that you don't necessarily get-- you have to have the card-- so I went along with it, and I have one. But why were they now accepting them so begrudgingly?
SO on this particular day I happened to buy a bunch of things that were WAY cheaper with the sale price with the discount card. I then decided to do a little experiment-- I would go through the check-out and not offer my card and see if the check-out person asked for it, like they always used to do. My purchases came to like thirty dollars, and sure enough, she didn’t ask me if I had a discount card. Before paying, I looked at her-- it was early in the morning, sure, but there wasn’t a line. There was barely anyone in the store. I handed her the card, and she entered it, then my bill came to like twenty-five dollars--five dollars less! She looked mildly annoyed. What was going on? I'm not saying that it's some kind of scam, or that it's some policy of Roundy's to try to rip people off. I don't know. All I know is that I'm annoyed. Oh well, I should get off my ass and go a little farther to the privately owned stores anyway. At least then maybe I could get some decent produce.
I don't know anything about Roundy's as a company (actually, I haven't looked into it because I don't WANT to find out something like they're big republican supporters and homophobic racists, or anything that would compel me NOT to shop there, because I don't have a car, and it's convenient). I know they are a HUGE company that owns like 150 grocery stores, and a lot of their Roundy's generic products are in these stores, at pretty good prices. But anyway, the thing I DO know is this grocery store went downhill fast.
I all but stopped shopping there, but I like that they're open at 6am, so I have someplace to walk to early and buy something before I start working on my memoirs. Lately, I've noticed that whenever I use that discount card, the check-out person seems really annoyed. I know that the check-out job must be a crappy job at times, and I don't expect them to be friendly or anything, and I always try to be polite and helpful and smile and everything. But also, those discount card things have always kind of bugged me because it allows the store to post really cheap prices that you don't necessarily get-- you have to have the card-- so I went along with it, and I have one. But why were they now accepting them so begrudgingly?
SO on this particular day I happened to buy a bunch of things that were WAY cheaper with the sale price with the discount card. I then decided to do a little experiment-- I would go through the check-out and not offer my card and see if the check-out person asked for it, like they always used to do. My purchases came to like thirty dollars, and sure enough, she didn’t ask me if I had a discount card. Before paying, I looked at her-- it was early in the morning, sure, but there wasn’t a line. There was barely anyone in the store. I handed her the card, and she entered it, then my bill came to like twenty-five dollars--five dollars less! She looked mildly annoyed. What was going on? I'm not saying that it's some kind of scam, or that it's some policy of Roundy's to try to rip people off. I don't know. All I know is that I'm annoyed. Oh well, I should get off my ass and go a little farther to the privately owned stores anyway. At least then maybe I could get some decent produce.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
(should be called) Treat or Trick
Halloween, we used to go around at NIGHT in our neighborhood, and anyone who didn’t answer their door would get their windows soaped… does anyone do that anymore? As we got older we advanced to paraffin, instead of soap, and then we would paraffin screens instead of windows—much harder to remove. These days that would be considered vandalism, if not terrorism, and kids would do time. Kids don’t trick or treat at night, anyway, only in the afternoon, with parents. I went trough a neighborhood on Sunday afternoon, not even late, like mid-afternoon, and there were parents driving along in their CARS, the kids running from the car to the house. I guess when I was little there were no crackhouses in our neighborhood, (though there were some pretty questionable, pervy, shady characters) but I’m wondering if in my lifetime someone will FINALLY figure out that SUGAR is kid crack. Probably not. I’m just hearing on the radio right now about this big tobacco lawsuit, and how very recently the tobacco companies were still claiming that nicotine wasn’t addictive, so I doubt that we’re going to see anyone going against the much bigger and more powerful corn syrup mob anytime soon.
I kind of forgot about it being Halloween today, it’s bad when it comes on a Tuesday, people have Halloween parties all weekend, and by today, who cares. Maybe I’ll see some people who are required by their jobs to wear costumes to work, that’s always funny. Anyway, I like getting up early to work on stuff at home, and in the past I’ve often lived near a convenience store or coffee shop, open early in the morning, where I could sometimes walk to for coffee or something to eat to help me get started, rather than going directly from bed to my computer. In the neighborhood I live in now, however, at some point before I lived here, someone had the bright idea to outlaw the sales of cheap wine and 40 ounce bottles of beer, supposedly to keep the “bad elements” from the neighborhood. Without being able to sell those items, convenience stores can’t exist, it would be like not allowing them to sell cigarettes or lottery tickets. So there are no convenience stores in my neighborhood, which is, really, the only thing I don’t like about my neighborhood. So recently I got the idea that I could walk out to the Pick’n’Save, which is only three blocks from my house. When I was little I used to shop at the Pick’N’PAY, with my mom. Things have gotten better: now instead of going to the grocery store and dispensing with a handful of cash, I use a credit card and SAVE.
So my idea is that I can go to the grocery store, not to get coffee, which I’d rather make at home, but something I need anyway (there’s always something) and just walk around in there a minute, look at the bakery section, all the doughnuts. I would love to be able to get donuts in the morning, I love the idea of donuts, but I am gluten-intolerant, can’t eat wheat, can’t eat donuts. And, of course, I’m better off not eating doughnuts, but it’s fun to look at them and smell the bakery and look at the people buying boxes of donuts for their office. So on this particular day, Halloween, I walked around until I had enough, determined that this store is going down the drain. They opened ANOTHER Pick’n’Save, (Called the “Metro Mart”—though they're all owned by Roundy’s) geared for a younger, condo dwelling clientele, only five blocks from here, and this one seems to have been conceded to a “fuck you” attitude, which is weird, because it’s not like it’s any cheaper. If you have a car, you would likely go to a store with more and better choices of food and decent produce, or a store that’s cheaper. Maybe this store is for the people who just always went here, like me, or who are in the immediate neighborhood. Anyway, it’s gotten pretty depressing.
I looked at the donuts, a surprisingly meager display, actually, then got a few things I needed and got in line. About eight a.m., and only two check-out people are working, which wouldn’t be so bad except that there are TONS of people here, some clearly on their way to work, possibly being made late by the long line, cranky, stressed out. Some people only buying a newspaper, some with shopping carts full. Everyone buying cigarettes, for which the check-out person has to walk all the way across the front of the store and get the cigarettes from a glassed-in cigarette area. It’s just a bad scene overall, no one is smiling, everyone miserable. I get up to the check-out, and the woman in front of me gets cigarettes, a lot of Kool-Aid, some other food, and a giant orange pumpkin-head cake. Then she buys a new scratch-off lottery card, which requires instruction from the check-out woman. I am next, hand the check-out woman my discount card which they always act is like a huge imposition at this particular store, then wait for her, she doesn’t check my food though, says, “$7.99.” “What?” I say. She repeats, “$7.99.” I’m confused, she hasn’t even scanned my food yet! What’s going on? Then I notice she had put the pumpkin-head cake in a bag, and rung that up. The woman in front of me forgot her cake! Didn’t pay for it, and despite those little sticks that we put between the items, a massive mix up! “Oh, that’s not mine, I say... That’s the woman’s!” I look out at the parking lot, she’s already long gone. “She’s going to come back for her cake,” I say and laugh, but the check-out woman looks at me like I’m trying to pull off some scam. The people in the long line behind me shift their weight and sigh audibly, I look back at them, the angry, impatient faces. Suddenly I am a criminal! I’m trying to scam a Halloween pumpkin-head orange cake. My plan isn’t working and all I’ve done is inconvenience everyone. The check-out woman angrily scans my food, I pay for it, and leave quickly, before the mob starts hurling broken electronic equipment at me (that’s the new method for “stoning” someone to death, in case you haven’t heard!) I think next time I should make a point of being content to simply walk through the store and observe, smell the bakery, look at the donuts, then slip out, unseen.
I kind of forgot about it being Halloween today, it’s bad when it comes on a Tuesday, people have Halloween parties all weekend, and by today, who cares. Maybe I’ll see some people who are required by their jobs to wear costumes to work, that’s always funny. Anyway, I like getting up early to work on stuff at home, and in the past I’ve often lived near a convenience store or coffee shop, open early in the morning, where I could sometimes walk to for coffee or something to eat to help me get started, rather than going directly from bed to my computer. In the neighborhood I live in now, however, at some point before I lived here, someone had the bright idea to outlaw the sales of cheap wine and 40 ounce bottles of beer, supposedly to keep the “bad elements” from the neighborhood. Without being able to sell those items, convenience stores can’t exist, it would be like not allowing them to sell cigarettes or lottery tickets. So there are no convenience stores in my neighborhood, which is, really, the only thing I don’t like about my neighborhood. So recently I got the idea that I could walk out to the Pick’n’Save, which is only three blocks from my house. When I was little I used to shop at the Pick’N’PAY, with my mom. Things have gotten better: now instead of going to the grocery store and dispensing with a handful of cash, I use a credit card and SAVE.
So my idea is that I can go to the grocery store, not to get coffee, which I’d rather make at home, but something I need anyway (there’s always something) and just walk around in there a minute, look at the bakery section, all the doughnuts. I would love to be able to get donuts in the morning, I love the idea of donuts, but I am gluten-intolerant, can’t eat wheat, can’t eat donuts. And, of course, I’m better off not eating doughnuts, but it’s fun to look at them and smell the bakery and look at the people buying boxes of donuts for their office. So on this particular day, Halloween, I walked around until I had enough, determined that this store is going down the drain. They opened ANOTHER Pick’n’Save, (Called the “Metro Mart”—though they're all owned by Roundy’s) geared for a younger, condo dwelling clientele, only five blocks from here, and this one seems to have been conceded to a “fuck you” attitude, which is weird, because it’s not like it’s any cheaper. If you have a car, you would likely go to a store with more and better choices of food and decent produce, or a store that’s cheaper. Maybe this store is for the people who just always went here, like me, or who are in the immediate neighborhood. Anyway, it’s gotten pretty depressing.
I looked at the donuts, a surprisingly meager display, actually, then got a few things I needed and got in line. About eight a.m., and only two check-out people are working, which wouldn’t be so bad except that there are TONS of people here, some clearly on their way to work, possibly being made late by the long line, cranky, stressed out. Some people only buying a newspaper, some with shopping carts full. Everyone buying cigarettes, for which the check-out person has to walk all the way across the front of the store and get the cigarettes from a glassed-in cigarette area. It’s just a bad scene overall, no one is smiling, everyone miserable. I get up to the check-out, and the woman in front of me gets cigarettes, a lot of Kool-Aid, some other food, and a giant orange pumpkin-head cake. Then she buys a new scratch-off lottery card, which requires instruction from the check-out woman. I am next, hand the check-out woman my discount card which they always act is like a huge imposition at this particular store, then wait for her, she doesn’t check my food though, says, “$7.99.” “What?” I say. She repeats, “$7.99.” I’m confused, she hasn’t even scanned my food yet! What’s going on? Then I notice she had put the pumpkin-head cake in a bag, and rung that up. The woman in front of me forgot her cake! Didn’t pay for it, and despite those little sticks that we put between the items, a massive mix up! “Oh, that’s not mine, I say... That’s the woman’s!” I look out at the parking lot, she’s already long gone. “She’s going to come back for her cake,” I say and laugh, but the check-out woman looks at me like I’m trying to pull off some scam. The people in the long line behind me shift their weight and sigh audibly, I look back at them, the angry, impatient faces. Suddenly I am a criminal! I’m trying to scam a Halloween pumpkin-head orange cake. My plan isn’t working and all I’ve done is inconvenience everyone. The check-out woman angrily scans my food, I pay for it, and leave quickly, before the mob starts hurling broken electronic equipment at me (that’s the new method for “stoning” someone to death, in case you haven’t heard!) I think next time I should make a point of being content to simply walk through the store and observe, smell the bakery, look at the donuts, then slip out, unseen.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Hole Foods
Those who know me well know that there's nothing I'm more excited about than grocery stores so you can imagine my excitement and anxiety at visiting the new Milwaukee Whole Foods as I had heard those stories about people going into one of those places and never leaving. Soylent Green is people! All of that. The other warning is that you can easily be tricked into buying things you don't need that cost a lot of money.
I had a kind of surreal experience right off the bat, driving there in Joe Wong's Matrix, parking in the garage, slightly space age. Then, as I got out of the car, the music started, that familiar synthesizer intro to "Won't Get Fooled Again," which I thought, this is too much, too perfect, people won't even believe this. I went up the escalator, and as I reached the store the first thunderous power chords kicked in and then that song was my soundtrack for what seemed like way longer than the song actually is. The weirdest thing was that a few of the ceiling speakers in the store were slightly out of time with each other, so that you could stand in a certain spot and the song was out of phase, very trippy. That spot just happened to be in the extensive health food section, looking directly out at the even more extensive meat section. I counted at least 25 varieties of link sausage, more, I'm sure than have previously existed.
Anyway, I found a few good deals, the Brown Cow maple yogurt (which should have Ray Speen's picture on the container) that you can't find ANYWHERE, and cheap! That got me into a buying mood, and I went overboard, buying some kind of strange cheese that was just recently invented. They didn't even have a barcode for it, and the cheese lady was baffled. I got a quarter pound, lovingly placed in a little plastic shell, and the price sticker had ANOTHER cheese name on it, so I can't even tell you the name of this cheese, but you can smell it right through the refrigerator door.
I ended up being at the store for hours, checking out the Taqueria, the brick over Pizzeria, the Gelato bar, the Sushi bar, the little tea shop and lounge with free wireless internet whether you want it or not, the ten minute massage, pedicure, Feng-shui center, Green Bay Packers paraphernalia stand, food history Museum, recipe Library, Yoga studio, Lifestyle Enhancement School, Chapel, Chocolate Enrobing Fountain, and complete Sports Bar with wide screen HD TV and frosted mugs. It reminded me of Wall Drug more than anything else. I was a little disappointed at the lack of sleeping accommodations, however, but I put a request in the suggestion box and received an email reply 28 minutes later saying my idea was being carefully considered.
My major complaint is that I was suckered into picking up some impulse buys that I regretted later. While I resisted the organic natural vanilla marshmallow squares, I fell for the organic free-range Vienna sausages which taste just like any other Vienna sausages. And the worst thing was I bought a little 3 and 3/4 ounce jar of Stutgarter Gieshirltle jam, which I'd never seen anywhere before so I couldn't resist, and after I got home (paying with credit card and not being attentive) I saw that it cost FORTY DOLLARS. So, watch yourself with stuff like that.
I had a kind of surreal experience right off the bat, driving there in Joe Wong's Matrix, parking in the garage, slightly space age. Then, as I got out of the car, the music started, that familiar synthesizer intro to "Won't Get Fooled Again," which I thought, this is too much, too perfect, people won't even believe this. I went up the escalator, and as I reached the store the first thunderous power chords kicked in and then that song was my soundtrack for what seemed like way longer than the song actually is. The weirdest thing was that a few of the ceiling speakers in the store were slightly out of time with each other, so that you could stand in a certain spot and the song was out of phase, very trippy. That spot just happened to be in the extensive health food section, looking directly out at the even more extensive meat section. I counted at least 25 varieties of link sausage, more, I'm sure than have previously existed.
Anyway, I found a few good deals, the Brown Cow maple yogurt (which should have Ray Speen's picture on the container) that you can't find ANYWHERE, and cheap! That got me into a buying mood, and I went overboard, buying some kind of strange cheese that was just recently invented. They didn't even have a barcode for it, and the cheese lady was baffled. I got a quarter pound, lovingly placed in a little plastic shell, and the price sticker had ANOTHER cheese name on it, so I can't even tell you the name of this cheese, but you can smell it right through the refrigerator door.
I ended up being at the store for hours, checking out the Taqueria, the brick over Pizzeria, the Gelato bar, the Sushi bar, the little tea shop and lounge with free wireless internet whether you want it or not, the ten minute massage, pedicure, Feng-shui center, Green Bay Packers paraphernalia stand, food history Museum, recipe Library, Yoga studio, Lifestyle Enhancement School, Chapel, Chocolate Enrobing Fountain, and complete Sports Bar with wide screen HD TV and frosted mugs. It reminded me of Wall Drug more than anything else. I was a little disappointed at the lack of sleeping accommodations, however, but I put a request in the suggestion box and received an email reply 28 minutes later saying my idea was being carefully considered.
My major complaint is that I was suckered into picking up some impulse buys that I regretted later. While I resisted the organic natural vanilla marshmallow squares, I fell for the organic free-range Vienna sausages which taste just like any other Vienna sausages. And the worst thing was I bought a little 3 and 3/4 ounce jar of Stutgarter Gieshirltle jam, which I'd never seen anywhere before so I couldn't resist, and after I got home (paying with credit card and not being attentive) I saw that it cost FORTY DOLLARS. So, watch yourself with stuff like that.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Friday 13 October 11:20pm
Here’s a statistic: it’s estimated that 150,000 Americans will stay home from work on a Friday the 13th out of superstitious fear. If that got your attention, sorry. I made that up. I mean, I’m sure somebody is staying home. You know, you can just make that stuff up and say it’s true. I just measured my dreads, they’re exactly 13 inches long. I have 13 illegitimate children by 13 different women, and they live in 13 different states. I’ve had 13 nervous breakdowns. It’s 13 degrees outside, and worse, 13 degrees inside. I’m at my office, but they turn the heat off on Friday night because you’re supposed to be in a bar like a normal person. One in 13 Milwaukeeans will drink 13 drinks tonight and end up driving the #13 bus through the pedestrian tunnel.
Most people will say they’re not superstitious, but they actually are, but in some weird way that you’d never expect. I can’t think of any examples right now. You should wear slightly mismatched socks when you get married. You should eat eggs benedict the morning you’re taking your SAT’s. Stuff like that.
What’s fun is introducing new superstitious behavior on people. I won’t let someone answer a phone while a church bell is ringing. I tell my friends that they’ll become impotent if they talk on cell phones while drinking sangria or planter’s punch. Today, I was out at a public building, and I saw someone do the thing that REALLY irritates me: punch the handicapped door open button to open a door rather than just opening the door. I don’t know why, but that really drives me crazy. So I told this person, “You shouldn’t open the door that way, it’s bad luck. People who do that end up with a rare disease that makes their head puff up like a Mylar balloon." You’ve got to tell people stuff that makes no sense-- that really scares them.
Okay, I’ve got to go, I’ve got 40 minutes to get out to the casino. No one is playing anything today, and at midnight everyone goes nuts and starts betting again. The casino, being so appreciative of this, hands out free champagne to everyone! Cheers!
Most people will say they’re not superstitious, but they actually are, but in some weird way that you’d never expect. I can’t think of any examples right now. You should wear slightly mismatched socks when you get married. You should eat eggs benedict the morning you’re taking your SAT’s. Stuff like that.
What’s fun is introducing new superstitious behavior on people. I won’t let someone answer a phone while a church bell is ringing. I tell my friends that they’ll become impotent if they talk on cell phones while drinking sangria or planter’s punch. Today, I was out at a public building, and I saw someone do the thing that REALLY irritates me: punch the handicapped door open button to open a door rather than just opening the door. I don’t know why, but that really drives me crazy. So I told this person, “You shouldn’t open the door that way, it’s bad luck. People who do that end up with a rare disease that makes their head puff up like a Mylar balloon." You’ve got to tell people stuff that makes no sense-- that really scares them.
Okay, I’ve got to go, I’ve got 40 minutes to get out to the casino. No one is playing anything today, and at midnight everyone goes nuts and starts betting again. The casino, being so appreciative of this, hands out free champagne to everyone! Cheers!
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Finally September!
I’m just kidding, I know it’s October 1st. I think it’s funny how I kept thinking it was a month earlier than it was. Someone sent me an email that said, “OK, time goes fast, I get it.” So enough of that. The thing is, I really DID think it was a month earlier than it was. But now I’m pretty much on top of things again, now that cooler weather is here. Plus, I quit smoking pot. I really love October, actually. I think it’s my favorite month of the year.
I went for a long bike ride this morning, barely avoiding the marathon and like 10,000 crazy runners. It’s the biggest marathon in the world, and in fact, the marathon originated here. The original word for marathon and Milwaukee were in fact the same native American word, but each was changed over time, by Germans and Olympians, respectively. I learned this at the Casino, at that little history museum off the lobby.
I rode my bike around the south side today, Bay View, St. Francis, etc. The streets down there just SPARKLE, but not because they’re clean. It’s because there is so much broken glass on them. It’s apparently still a major source of entertainment in that part of town, throwing beer bottles out of car windows. They need a movie theater!
I had a fine breakfast at the Bay View Diner, where my favorite potatoes in town reside. Their home fries (I refuse to say “American fries) with onions are the best in town. Today, I also had the weekend special, a Butters Fetting Omelette. It was smoky, caramelized, reduced, and had three unrelated cheeses bubbling up. Quite a creation. Unfortunately, today was the last day of their experimental new American hybrid fusion menu, and tomorrow at 5 am they are going back to greasy spoon.
I went for a long bike ride this morning, barely avoiding the marathon and like 10,000 crazy runners. It’s the biggest marathon in the world, and in fact, the marathon originated here. The original word for marathon and Milwaukee were in fact the same native American word, but each was changed over time, by Germans and Olympians, respectively. I learned this at the Casino, at that little history museum off the lobby.
I rode my bike around the south side today, Bay View, St. Francis, etc. The streets down there just SPARKLE, but not because they’re clean. It’s because there is so much broken glass on them. It’s apparently still a major source of entertainment in that part of town, throwing beer bottles out of car windows. They need a movie theater!
I had a fine breakfast at the Bay View Diner, where my favorite potatoes in town reside. Their home fries (I refuse to say “American fries) with onions are the best in town. Today, I also had the weekend special, a Butters Fetting Omelette. It was smoky, caramelized, reduced, and had three unrelated cheeses bubbling up. Quite a creation. Unfortunately, today was the last day of their experimental new American hybrid fusion menu, and tomorrow at 5 am they are going back to greasy spoon.
Monday, September 25, 2006
EIGHTH WONDER OF THE WORLD!!!
I was riding my bike today on the bike trail, and I saw something for the first time: a woman rollerblading while talking on a cellphone. (I'm sure this is nothing new to those of you in California, but it was the first time I'VE witnessed such a spectacle!)
Saturday, September 23, 2006
I'm Through with the YMCA
For all of you (like anyone is reading this!) who are sick of me talking about the YMCA, you won't have to any more because I quit. They raised my monthly fee, and worse, the hot tub is broken, and they don't seem to want to fix it. Not too many people go in the hot tub anyway, certainly no women, because they built it with a big picture window facing the track and the key desk, so when you're in it you kind of feel like an animal at the zoo. People just stare in at you, they can't help it.
But no more hot tub, no more YMCA, after September, and it's already September! I went last night, and this morning, as I made the rounds of the farmer's markets, I realized that I still had my sweaty jockey shorts and socks in my bag, along with my notebook and hat. This kind of disgusted me. I'm tired of being a jock-- what is it worth, anyway, all of this physical fitness stuff?
So anyway, enough of that. No more will I have to WONDER how men in the locker room are unable to throw their used Q-TIPS in the wastebasket. I'm just going to have to find things to complain about somewhere else.
But no more hot tub, no more YMCA, after September, and it's already September! I went last night, and this morning, as I made the rounds of the farmer's markets, I realized that I still had my sweaty jockey shorts and socks in my bag, along with my notebook and hat. This kind of disgusted me. I'm tired of being a jock-- what is it worth, anyway, all of this physical fitness stuff?
So anyway, enough of that. No more will I have to WONDER how men in the locker room are unable to throw their used Q-TIPS in the wastebasket. I'm just going to have to find things to complain about somewhere else.
Friday, September 08, 2006
I LOVE AUGUST
The REASON August is my favorite month is because FALL is just around the corner. I am really a CANADIAN at heart. No, I'm not. Anyway, Canadians don't really like the cold weather, or else why would they build all of their cities in the southern part of the country? Anyway, I love autumn, it's my favorite season, back to school, all that.
I tried to take this online test to see if I would be accepted as a citizen of Canada, and I FAILED MISERABLY! It was really pretty sad. My score was "Please stay in the United States where they celebrate idiocy." Which was the next category up from, "You are so worthless you wouldn't be welcome in ANY country." They really tell it like it is on this test!
I left my serape out in the mudroom with the leaking roof and it got moldy. Does anyone know anything about mold removal? I washed it, but it didn't seem to help, it still smelled bad, so I SOAKED IT with patchouli. Now it just smells like mold and patchouli. Help! It's my favorite serape, I don't want to throw it away!
I tried to take this online test to see if I would be accepted as a citizen of Canada, and I FAILED MISERABLY! It was really pretty sad. My score was "Please stay in the United States where they celebrate idiocy." Which was the next category up from, "You are so worthless you wouldn't be welcome in ANY country." They really tell it like it is on this test!
I left my serape out in the mudroom with the leaking roof and it got moldy. Does anyone know anything about mold removal? I washed it, but it didn't seem to help, it still smelled bad, so I SOAKED IT with patchouli. Now it just smells like mold and patchouli. Help! It's my favorite serape, I don't want to throw it away!
Monday, August 21, 2006
Already July!
I can't believe it's already July! There was more to that finding the cell phone story, more of the story I didn't have the guts to write at the time, but now that nothing has happened, I mean no fallout from the whole episode, I think I could write about it now, but now the moment has passed. OK! I'd write more now, but I've got christmas shopping to take care of. Not really, but that's just about how I feel about now. The next thing is just around the corner, always, the next love affair, the next holiday, the next cocktail, the next accident, the next inspiration, the next turd on the floor, the next salon, the next rhyme, the next drunken garden party, the next Seville orange, the next headache, the next earthy, sprawly, sad pastiche. Oh, God please help me, only you can make a flower grow on the unfertile Omaha Steak box next to the toilet in the filling station men's room of my passing thoughts.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
JUNE GOES EVEN FASTER
June is turning out to be a much faster month than May was. It's already half over! Maybe if it didn't take my hair so long to dry I'd have more time for communtiy service. Oh, well.
I walked by the cell phone store in the mall the other day and I thought: "You know, I could just go in there and buy one of those!" It's the first time I've had that thought. I think I can, anyway, is that right? Or do you have to have some special qualifications?
I guess I was thinking about cell phones because I found one the other day on the way home from Jazz in the Park. I wasn't going to JITP, the people who lost the cell phone were. I was on my way home from work. It was surprisingly easy to use. I looked up some recent numbers called, and called those people and left messages that I found the phone. Only one person answered, and he said he didn't know the number who was calling, though of course I had no name to refer to.
Finally I called a number and a picture of a woman's breasts came on the phone when it dialed! A woman answered and said that it was her boyfriend's phone. She said they were at Jazz in the Park, and invited me over. I declined. I told her where I lived, a short walk from the park, and she walked over. When she got near, she called again and I ran out with the phone, still talking in it, hoping my landlord Ellwood wouldn't see me.
We met up on the sidewalk and I gave her the phone, trying not to look at her breasts. She thanked me and again invited me to Jazz in the Park. This time I thought about it for a second. I've received very few invitions anywhere recently, and certainly not by strangers. But I thanked her and declined again. People take portable chairs to Jazz in the Park, and portable tables, and they spread little red and white checked table cloths over the tables and open bottles of red wine. Then they get out wine glasses and bread and cheese and... yikes, too much. And I've heard, this is the truth, that people bring hanging plants and hang them from the trees. No thanks. Not my scene, baby.
RS
I walked by the cell phone store in the mall the other day and I thought: "You know, I could just go in there and buy one of those!" It's the first time I've had that thought. I think I can, anyway, is that right? Or do you have to have some special qualifications?
I guess I was thinking about cell phones because I found one the other day on the way home from Jazz in the Park. I wasn't going to JITP, the people who lost the cell phone were. I was on my way home from work. It was surprisingly easy to use. I looked up some recent numbers called, and called those people and left messages that I found the phone. Only one person answered, and he said he didn't know the number who was calling, though of course I had no name to refer to.
Finally I called a number and a picture of a woman's breasts came on the phone when it dialed! A woman answered and said that it was her boyfriend's phone. She said they were at Jazz in the Park, and invited me over. I declined. I told her where I lived, a short walk from the park, and she walked over. When she got near, she called again and I ran out with the phone, still talking in it, hoping my landlord Ellwood wouldn't see me.
We met up on the sidewalk and I gave her the phone, trying not to look at her breasts. She thanked me and again invited me to Jazz in the Park. This time I thought about it for a second. I've received very few invitions anywhere recently, and certainly not by strangers. But I thanked her and declined again. People take portable chairs to Jazz in the Park, and portable tables, and they spread little red and white checked table cloths over the tables and open bottles of red wine. Then they get out wine glasses and bread and cheese and... yikes, too much. And I've heard, this is the truth, that people bring hanging plants and hang them from the trees. No thanks. Not my scene, baby.
RS
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
THE MONTH of M A Y
It's the fastest month of the year, every year, because I really so much like it, but not this year, because I've been in some kind of a dream state ever since I woke up in A-pril. Really, it's just not funny, being me, and this far out out of it it. like i'm looking ooking down the wrong end of a stethoscope.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Binder Clips
I'm at the office working on this because I had to get away from my wife. I usually work from home, but the office exists, if I need it, to get away from all of the pressures of trying to run a household in this ever more dusty climate. The first thing I realized, once here, was that I had forgotten my cell phone and left it here. I mean, I haven't used it in awhile, and it's here, plugged in. I don't need it at home, because I have a "safe" phone. The next thing I discovered is that someone has been stealing the binder clips, the big ones. I have no idea why. I know that they're good for closing bags of potato chips, and some people may use them for sex, I've heard, but I'm talking about hundreds of binder clips! Maybe the intern is doing some kind of an art project with them. I think she has an art opening or some kind of graduate show this spring, so I'm going and if there are a lot of binder clips used in her art-- busted! I'm trying to finish my work so I can get to the "Y" and hopefully Spree won't be there again getting in my way. What do I have left to do? Oh, just this I guess. This is all I've done all day, besides trying to find a cheap hydroponics kit online. RS
Monday, March 20, 2006
Millions of little chunks.
Quite often at meetings I'd notice this guy with a little cassette recorder, which he kept pretty well hidden, but you know, you're not supposed to do that. You're also not supposed to confront people and accuse them of things, and one of my clinically confirmed conditions is an increasing inclination toward paranoia, so I was just waiting for SOMEONE ELSE to say something to the guy. Maybe people don't remember cassettes... They do? Okay. I'm yelling to my wife in the next room while I type this. She insists in editorializing me, ever since I had an online affair. Which I didn't consider an affair at all... I know, you do. What? Okay, I've got to run out and get some parmasian cheese. I'm not sure how to spell that. Is there a spellcheck on this thing? I think that's close. It's from Parma Italy, right, not Parma Ohio. I know! Of course I'm going to get a CHUNK of it. Not the pre-grated kind, yes, I know, you don't want to put ANTI-CAKING agent on your spaghetti. I can't spell that, either. Obviously I'm not Itallian. Okay, okay, I'm going.
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