Wednesday, October 7, 2015

What's in a hamburger?

A couple weeks ago, we were eating out at White Spot, and they were featuring some of their new menu items.  One of which was a new sandwich of the hamburger variety that boasted a patty that was half traditional hamburger meat, and half bacon.  Now, you can say what you want about the ubiquity of bacon fanaticism, but my thought was really more about the concept of the hamburger itself.  This past weekend, I tried a sandwich that was supposed to be a hamburger patty wrapped up in a very small pepperoni pizza--think like a personal pan pizza from Pizza Hut.  The next night, we went to Red Robin, and I order the Red Robin Royale Burger.  The common factor among all three is that they were pretty tasty, but what made them special was the toppings.  See, for all the hype of a patty that was half-bacon, it tasted no different than a regular hamburger patty.  This is mainly because when you simply cook bacon for the simplest of bacon bits, there's a great risk you slightly overcook it, and when you do, it tastes almost the same as ground beef.  Slather on toppings that have pronounced flavors of their own, and you can't tell the difference.  This is also why I don't bother ordering ground beef as a pizza topping, or bacon, because those baked crumbles have little flavor by that point and just fall off and make a mess.

And that's not even considering that ground beef is pretty flavorless when cooked.  Maybe it's just me.  Maybe it's because I worked at McDonald's for four-and-a-half years and have been rendered incapable of tasting beef from both cooking it and eating them for so long.  But I find that hamburgers in general are only worth ordering if you like the taste of the toppings.  It's not like a good steak, where you can pick off onions and ask the chef to go easy on the pepper if you don't like those things.  Oh sure, on the odd occasion that I still order a McDonald's double cheeseburger, I still get it without the onions, but if I also hated ketchup and pickles, and couldn't tolerate mustard, I'd really have no reason to eat one.  Hamburger meat by itself, just isn't that big a culinary treat.  Now you can make some good sloppy joes and meatloaf, and do not for a moment suppose that I'm including steak and prime rib, or even pot roast in this conversation; but at this point, a hamburger is just a meat slab between buns, and whatever toppings and sauces you find tasty.  

I'm no culinary expert, so I can only surmise that ground beef is the least of all beef cuts and that the grinding process only makes them worse.  They're still passable, but the point is, really, stop trying to "revolutionize" the hamburger.  The only way to really revolutionize it is basically convert uncooked meatloaf into patties and grill 'em that way.  And even then, no guarantees that that would work.  The hamburger's pretty good the way it is.  Of the three I mentioned at the beginning, the Royale is easily the tastiest.  

Mainly because one of the toppings is a sunny side-up egg. 

Sunday, May 3, 2015

The room with a revolving door versus the opium of stasis.

This past week, another roommate moved out, and a new one moved in.

A little context.  I moved to my current dwelling in 2012.  It has three bedrooms.  The master bedroom goes to the landlord, I have one, and the third has had a handful of roommates over the past three years.  I'm not even sure I can remember all their names, either.

There was the guy who juiced everything.  I really don't remember why he moved out or what he's moved onto.

There was the dude who worked at the theater and had a medical marijuana prescription.  His grandmother left him some money in her will with the stipulation that he had to go to college.  So he moved out to do exactly that.

There was the lady who just moved out.  She's a nurse, and she moved out to move closer to her work.  One of the family members of one of her cases is highly allergic to cat fur, and since the landlord has a fairly affectionate cat at the house, she needed to get away from the little fuzzball.

There may have been a couple others who didn't even last a week before finding something more convenient, someplace cheaper, or something else.

Now there's a new guy, a freelance translator who works largely with hospitals, but some legal and other various associations as well.

I'm not even sure where I'm going with this.  Is it me?  Is it the landlord?  Is it really these opportunities for them?  When will the time be right for me to move out and move on with my life?  I'm not even getting ants in the pants to leave the place, though if I had more brains I suppose I would.  My landlord roomie is certainly a belfry full of bats half the time, but when push comes to shove, he's someone who'll shock you and make you glad you had him in your corner.  Plus, I really love the cat.  When I do move out, the cat's coming with me.  My significant other and I like to joke about how it'll be the three of us when we finally get a place of our own.

As for the other roommates, I don't know if I made any impact in their lives, and I'm not even sure if they impacted mine.  Just a weird, almost ethereal feeling as I see people come and go.  Am I numb to it all?  Have I grown enough to not be jealous of their moving on to better things?  Am I depressed that I don't feeling anything more?  Am I weak person for not moving out sooner?

Truth is I don't know.  This is as much me looking for an excuse to have something to post in my personal blog after not writing anything for all of 2014.  Do I really need another reason beyond that?  Perhaps, but since I pontificate considerably more on my other blog, I thought I'd share a personal sentiment.  And that sentiment is, one room causes doldrums, one causes new chapters.

Maybe next time I should switch rooms.

Monday, July 8, 2013

Feeling bad for not feeling bad

“In years to come, they may discover what the air we breathe and the life we lead are all about, but it won’t be soon enough, soon enough for me.”—Paul McCartney, “Tug Of War”

Last week at work, an announcement was made over the speakers that a former co-worker had taken her life.  She had retired before I transferred to the office I’m at now, so I literally never met her, never worked with her, didn’t even know she existed, since no one told me any tales about her after she retired.  Now, I should point out that I am no stranger to death.  I’ve attended funerals for relatives, a relative of my significant other, classmates, a coworker, and even a late boss.  Not to mention people I once knew whose funerals I was unable to attend.  Still this was the first time that a suicide victim was someone whom almost everyone else within a particular social circle of mine knew. 

And therein laid the problem for me.  Just about everyone else knew her, but I didn’t.  I wasn’t deeply moved, and what did stir within me were the ripples of emotion from other people, like aftershocks or a domino down the line.  I learned (from a coworker who claims to have barely known her either) that this woman was having both physical and emotional difficulties.  Her family all lived faraway, and one of the apparently closer ones, whom she wanted to move in with, said she didn’t want her to move in.  So, her last months were very sad and tragic.  And I was a little saddened by it too.  So if nothing else, I proved I’m not a robot.

Still, I was left with a little bit of sadness, and no way to really express it that would be appropriate.  I didn’t feel like crying, nor did anyone else in my immediate vicinity, though the supervisor who broke the news to us was breaking up in tears as she told us.

I guess I really don’t know how to feel about the whole ordeal.  No one really blames me for not feeling much, and yet I feel bad for not feeling bad.  While we look upon death as natural and part of the cycle of life, it’s still sad when it hits close enough to home for us, and even more so when the cause is neither natural nor accidental.  I want to do something for those who knew her, like be ready to fill in for them if they need a day off to grieve, but no one seems to need it.  I guess they figured with her physical complications, she wasn’t bound to live for long.

Overall, I guess the saddest part for me is imagining what must have been going through this woman’s mind in her final days.  Our society is a little more (albeit very little) sympathetic to those who would choose suicide because of constant pain, but it’s so tragic to think that the reason she did it might have been that she believed her entire emotional support network was frayed and disconnected.  I don’t claim to be or to have ever been clinically depressed, though it’s been suspected of me before; nevertheless, I have frequently known the feeling of sadness that comes with an unmet need, but you don’t want to actually ask for help.  You want someone to care enough for and about you to a) recognize something’s wrong in the first place, and b) offer help or initiate contact or conversation, and it has to be that way because to get help after you asked for it first doesn’t feel as meaningful, or even genuine—they only care because you asked them to care and not because they actually care.  You want to be reached out to, but unless you overact the emotions, no one’s gonna be able to tell that you need someone to talk to.  It’s a vicious quicksand.  I heard someone say that most suicides are just a cry for attention.  Well, if a little attention can stop it, I’d say it’s worth it, even if it’s just long enough to get them to a trained professional to help them.

I’ve seriously contemplated suicide a few times in my life, but I’m glad I’ve never gone through with it.  I’m very thankful for the relationship I have with my fiancé, who can almost always tell when something’s bothering me, and sometimes worries something’s wrong when fatigue causes me to act like I’m depressed.  I’m also thankful for my relationship with God, by Whose grace and mercy I’m still chugging along and learning, finding meaning in life.  If that sounds trite or cloying, it’s because I’m not good at sharing my faith (tends to happen when the majority of your friends throughout your life are atheists who are stalwart in their doubt or denial), but I really do mean what I say.  But right now I only hope that I can be there for friends when they need me.  I’ve been there for friends with relationship issues, which is practically the height of irony given my entire life, but I’ve never yet had to be there, as far as I know, for someone on that edge.  I only hope that if I am, I never find out what the stakes are, because I know I’ll panic and give lousy advice or listen wrongly. 

I don’t know what to say to wrap things up.  Always beware of becoming too self-absorbed?  Be a good friend?  Even then, there’s only so much you can do.  I can’t really say everyone’s responsible for their own actions, since we know that physical and mental disorders can many times render a person inculpable for their actions.  I guess don’t be afraid to ask for help when you’re at that place.  No one wants you to commit suicide, and those who do aren’t worth you giving a shit about them.  Talk to God, talk to the Suicide Hotline, talk to friend or family member.  Talk.

Monday, June 17, 2013

What's in a double take?

As bad as I am at keeping up with this blog, this is pretty bad that I’m a month overdue mentioning that I took the fiancé back to Michigan.  My elder sister got married a month ago, and my significant other and I spent some time seeing some more sites around the ol’ stomping grounds in addition to attending the wedding.  This trip proved to be a bit more trying than the previous one, mainly because of the mosquitoes.  I hate mosquitoes, mainly because they love me so much. 

But being a tourist in my own hometown for the second time really gave me a chance to take an outside look at what I want for my future.  In many ways, it still has the same rural charm that I’ve always simultaneously loved and sprayed OFF! on me to keep at bay.  Cruising down the old roads, swerving and slowing down on some of the dicier gravel roads, or even just going to my nephew’s little league game.  Plus, the added bonus of seeing how the school has expanded and improved from when I was a student there.  Truly some great moments.  But whether it was the few adults who were acting inappropriate at said little league game, the fact that every business there plays the awful, awful country station for its patrons, or finding out that the newly elected county sheriff seriously considers extraterrestrial abduction as a plausible explanation for any missing person report (no joke, they won’t even let him speak at press conferences anymore, the deputy sheriff has to address the local news outlets), there’s just something that says either my hometown or I have changed too much to be compatible anymore. 

Strange as it sounds, I’d like to think it’s me that’s changed.  For starters, if you’ve had even a semi-happy childhood, your hometown will seem like Mayberry when you think back on your youth.  To notice these things now is to say that the world, or at least that corner of it, hasn’t actually gotten any worse, we’re just more aware of it now.  And to that end, we can say our parents did a good job of protecting us from these things long enough until we were able to absorb the brunt of these reality-dealing blows.  Some might actually call that bad parenting, but I disagree: it’s managing your own home environment to be as healthy as possible for the sake of those you love most, and sometimes that necessitates being the shield or filter.  So to that end, I can say that my parents did a great job raising me.  Not that I’ve ever thought any different, but I don’t suppose I’ve ever actually told them that.

More to the topic at hand, I’d like to think of this newfound incompatibility to be a sign of personal growth.  I don’t think I’m too good for my old hometown, although I’m certainly glad Mount Vernon’s chief of police doesn’t leave green cookies outside to lure Martians, and that the local supermarkets don’t play that ersatz country/Nashville pop while you’re shopping.  But overall, I’m not dismissive of it.  I don’t want to say it’s like outgrowing an old favorite shirt, but that’s kind of what feels like.  I’d like to think it’s not so much outgrowing the old hometown as much as just outgrowing the memories, though I’ll always cherish them.  Where this personal growth will take is anyone’s guess, so I guess I just gotta buckle up and survive the ride.

I’m not sure where I really want to settle down, though I’m pretty sure it’ll just be wherever the fiancé is happiest living, or where the jobs are easiest to get.  As long as we’re happy there.  I guess a hometown is just what you make it.

And apologies to all the people who read this who are either older than me or have more established lives.  I don’t have funny or endearing stores of my children or really even much of a home life to share.  It’s either this or zingers from work that you had to be there to find funny, thickly laced with job jargon.

Saturday, November 17, 2012

What's in a miscommunication?

For those who know or don't know, today is the third anniversary of the night I finally worked up the gumption to send a message to a cute-looking girl with an interesting profile on a dating website.  Three years from that day, and I'm now sitting on her couch while she takes a brief nap on the couch next to me.  I look across to her and see.. well it's not her face, she's turned to face the back of her couch.  But if it were her face, I'd tell you of the angelic bliss I see in her visage as she slumbers peacefully.  As such, the current view is also quite gratifying.  Boy, she's gonna be mad at me when she reads this entry.  What can I say?  Being a stinker once in awhile is part of the fun of sharing a love with someone.

So you'll be happy to know that barring her being upset with me for the above paragraph, the eponymous miscommunication is not about us.  It's a work snafu.  See, originally, the plan was for me to work this morning.  And if I'd worked this morning, I wouldn't have been able to be with her until late this afternoon or possibly this evening given traffic (they really need to add more lanes on the Trans-Canada between the Cloverdale exit and the Highway 7 exit, but I digress).  Thankfully, there was a foul-up in communication, and someone else is working today.  It would've been nice to work today, make a little extra money, but the fiance was really excited about me coming up this afternoon because it's the first anniversary that we've actually been able to be together in person rather than on the internet or over the phone.  So if she was excited about having the last maybe 7 hours of the day with me, imagine her excitement when I showed up at her door last night ready to spend ALL of today with her!  She's excited, even if her sleeping state doesn't scream enthusiasm.

So, whether you believe that all things happen for a reason or just love a good mix-up, the point is when I called the other person to discuss the schedule foul-up, she said she'd planned on me working this morning, but would be willing to do it if I wanted it off.  So, when an opportunity strikes grab it.  I  did.  It's how I got to spend the whole anniversary with the woman I love.  It's how I got my fiance in the first place.

Happy anniversary, Erica.  I wouldn't switch lives with anyone because I have you.  I love you.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

What's in a joke or five?


Five Jokes With Which Drew Carey Is Ruining “The Price Is Right”


No question about it: The Price Is Right is one of the greatest, arguably THE greatest, and most enduring game shows of all time.  A lot of this has been due to the fun of playing along at home with the games, a lot of it has been allure of the models over the years, but undeniably, the greatest factor was the show’s host who will forever be directly associated with the program, Bob Barker.  And a lot of good people were dismayed when the reins were handed over to comedian and star of two retired shows on ABC, Drew Carey. 

In all fairness to Drew, Bob Barker is irreplaceable, and Carey was a better choice than some of the other ones the rumor mill was predicting, such as Rosie O’Donnell.  It’s never fun to be the man to have to fill a legend’s shoes, knowing you’ll always be in his shadow.  Drew realizes that, even taking it as a compliment for the first couple years, when people kept calling him “Bob.”  It places you in an instant catch-twenty-two.  If you try to carry the torch by imitating the master, then you’re ridiculed for just being a copycat; if you try to add your own twist to the job, you’re reviled for taking away from the show and not honoring the master’s legacy.  To that end, Drew Carey’s had the good sense to bite the bullet and make the job his own, trying to maintain a balance between the tradition and the reality that Bob’s not coming back, which to his credit, he actually does a good job of.

One of the ways he does this is in the jokes he makes.  Bob made jokes on the show, but as a professional comedian, Drew has a different style that makes the job his.  However, as any professional comedian will also tell you, making your stuff translate to network TV is no small task.  Drew Carey has found this out the hard way, and thankfully he has adjusted the jokes, and has even stopped telling ones that were just bombing (“Ezekiel Barker” when playing the old Barker’s Bargain Bar before that game got a makeover; joking about two completely unrelated products going together).  Here are five more that desperately need to go:

#5: “The ol’ Price Is Right clock on the wall”

When you hear it: before they call the final contestant down to Contestants’ Row.

Why he does it exposition really.  For those just tuning in who aren’t sure where in the program they are.  It also calls attention to the fact that there’s one pricing game left, trying to instill a sense of urgency in the one who’s called down and the three still there.

Why it needs to go: for starters, there’s no clock that we see.  When he does that joke, they cut to George Gray at the announcer’s podium, and they show a computer image of a clock with the hands going round.  Maybe I’m alone in this, but I kinda miss the less-computerized things they did: from the giant backdrops depicting a prize trip, which have been replaced with LCD screens; to the old lights on the Temptation game that now show scrolling numbers.  This display of a clock just irritates me further.  I’d rather they have a prop clock with the cuckoo bird holding a sign that reads “One More Contestant!” than see that digital display.  But more importantly, The Price Is Right is too well established as a television institution for this joke.  People who are just tuning in know that the show is winding down by this point.  We know it by heart now: three games, showcase showdown, three more games, another showcase showdown, and the final showcase.  This joke is more of an insult to the audience than a bit of humor.  Lastly, this joke ruins the illusion of relaxed pacing that we’ve all enjoyed.  It’s about fun, not making the show run on time.  With a few exceptions, like urging a contestant who doesn’t know what to bid and takes awhile to decide or the games that run on a timer, the show has always had the illusion of a Jack Benny kind of “We get there when we get there” pace to it, even incorporating the timer games into that pace so it never seems rushed.  This joke erodes that tent pole in the festival of fun.

#4: “One of our luckiest models!”

When you hear it: when playing a game that involves one of the models doing something functional in the gameplay and/or one of the games with a higher chance factor involved than other games.

Why he does it: to give the contestants more confidence, to create and nurture an atmosphere of well-wishing that includes not just him, but everyone, including the models.

Why it needs to stop: in all fairness, this joke really isn’t supposed to be all that funny, so the fact that it’s not funny really isn’t a strike against him.  What is a strike though is the execution of the joke, as quite often he’ll engage said model in baiting banter, asking her if she’s feeling lucky.  Right on cue, she says, “I feel lucky!”  This is irritating because we know what she’ll say.  I mean, what else is she gonna say?  This is just unnecessary dialogue.  I’m not against having the models speak or anything chauvinistic like that—I actually like it when Drew pauses for a sec to ask the model what song she’s pretending to sing when the item up for bids is a karaoke machine.  But the fake enthusiasm the model is expected to exhibit makes high school cheerleaders look like Flavor Flav-league hype-people.  And also, of all the ways luck comes into play, the involvement on the part of the model is really the least of them.  Not to mention that there are some people who will take that joke seriously and attempt to calculate the Model’s Luck Coefficient. .  Lastly, making the models out to be little more than good luck charms is more objectifying than pure chauvinism, as they’re no longer eye candy, but bracelets on the wrist.

#3: “The greatest game in the world!”

When you hear it: when they play Rat Race.

Why he does it: it’s a game that he helped create and develop.

Why it needs to stop: for starters the game pretty much sucks.  It’s one of the most chance-determined games they have.  You can do everything right and still end up with the least of the three possible prizes.  It’s not the most popular game; that would be Plinko, which ironically enough is even more chance-riddled than Rat Race.  True you can win three prizes, including a car, but you can also do that with Master Key, Ten Chances, and even better than that with Switcheroo.  For anticipation, there have been better ways to do it than watching wind up mechanical rats, such as watching the mountain climber ascend during Cliff Hangers.  The joke’s not funny because it’s obvious the humor comes from his pride of ownership.  Also, claiming one game as the best of all is insinuation that there are games that aren’t fun.

#2: “Look out!  Try not to collide!”

When you hear it: when the models have to switch sides in the game Switch?

Why he does it: the thought of two models possibly colliding seems somehow funny to him.

Why it needs to stop: where do I start with this one?  Is it the assumption that on a 2-D television screen, the viewer will forget that life happens in a three-dimensional world?  Is it the thought that the models aren’t smart enough to walk and carry a sign at the same time?  Is it the fact that it’s a completely unnecessary gag during the filler music that plays while they switch places?  Is it the fact that if the contestant doesn’t wish to switch, Drew jokes about a potential crisis averted?  You guessed it, all of the above.  This joke is a failure on just about every level.  It was even funny the first time he did it, it’s still not funny now.

#1: “Oh, mighty sound effects lady…”

When you hear it: when they play One Away

Why he does it: it builds anticipation and tension, and Bob Barker did this joke, too…sort of.

Why it needs to stop: let’s start with the fact that this takes Bob’s original bit to ridiculous proportions.  Bob made the contestant ask nicely using “Ladies” or “Gentlemen”, and say please, or say a specific phrase.  And that’s fair.  The sound effects people are union, work-a-day people, and when Bob asks on their behalf that the contestant address them politely, that’s just looking out for the little guy.  By contrast, Drew makes the contestants flat-out grovel, to the point of deifying the sound effects lady.  The sound effects person does not have THAT much control.  The sound effects person just lets you know how many numbers you got right.  That’s it.  They’ve got higher-ups to answer to if they don’t do their damn job.  There’s no need to humiliate the contestant (any further than they embarrass themselves that is).  Also, it drags the game on forever.  Remember the clock on the wall that tampered with pacing by instilling a false rush?  This is the joke that drags the pace of the show down by Drew actually slowing it down.  He demonstrates how the contestant needs to ask with slow enunciation, and as expected, the contestant emulates the very slow beseeching of the sound effects lady’s favor.  This bit is so annoying that it has wrecked the game for me.  One Away used to be one of my favorite games on The Price Is Right, now I mute the TV when they play the game, and sometimes change the channel, because even without sound, it’s painful to watch.  If the mighty sound effects lady had as much control as Drew makes her out to have, she’d play some goofy sound effects over Drew Carey’s demonstration so the rest of us could get a genuine laugh, for a change. 

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

What's in a vacation?

Last week, I finally had the opportunity to introduce my fiancée to my family.  I can’t tell you how nervous I was about it.  While I’m not completely attached to my family, I discovered that it was extremely important to me that they at least be able to be happy for me.  I didn’t quite need their approval of her, just that they be able to be happy for me.  That seems easy enough, but it hasn’t really happened before.  My first girlfriend, they were less than thrilled with.  My second girlfriend, I never even told them about while I was dating her (well, two of my siblings knew, but the rest of the family remained oblivious). 

Now, this is a tightrope to walk to explain: my family aren’t flint-hearted villains who don’t want me to be happy, and I’m not the kind of guy who’d be devastated and would break it off if they didn’t approve or couldn’t be happy for me.  But if the family isn’t happy for me, then there’s probably something I’m not seeing or considering, that love is blindsiding me to.  So I was a little concerned as to how the week would go.

And it was a hectic week.  The main purpose of the visit wasn’t for them to meet my fiancée, but to attend my little sister’s wedding.  And also, my brother was in town with his wife and kids, and while I’d met them, my other siblings hadn’t.  So this was a full plate for the family, and we could very easily have gotten lost in the shuffle.

In some ways we did.  We stayed in a hotel since the aforementioned brother and family were staying with my parents, so we were separated from the family in that way.  And much of the time was spent seeing sights that at one time or another meant a lot to me.  Still there was time for the family, all four siblings and almost all my nieces and nephews (and one smelly rat disguised as a dog).  I don’t know which sibling got to know my fiancée best, or if my parents got that chance the most.

All I can really tell you is the results: one brother said he would start calling my fiancée “sis”; the other brother said he’s never seen me happier than I am with her, one sibling has added her as a Facebook friend (as did the sister’s fiancée and two of her children), the other sister….well she ‘s the one that got married, so let’s let the lovebirds finish honeymooning first, shall we?  (Though the new bro-in-law has also friended her on FB too).

As for my parents?  Well, they’re parents.  They have concerns a-plenty.  Most of it entails either the legal falderal that awaits us or things that are directly affected by aforementioned falderal.  They're happy for me though, and they're looking forward to our wedding.

Normally when I post to this blog, I try to have something learned along the way, or something important to say.  I don’t know if I have that this time.  I learned some things this past week sure, but nothing too grandiose that could be the moral lesson on an episode of “South Park” or anything like that.  To be honest, I’m not sure what to make of the whole experience.  I really wish I’d had more time to spend with my siblings to get them to know my fiancée better.  And the major upside of it all is that we feel ready to start planning our wedding, hopefully in April,

So um.. I guess the moral is get your passports renewed, because it’ll probably be in Canada.