Life as a Cookie

I've once been told by a wise baker that every cookie has a story... Below are the lives of nine cookies, as told by the members of my family who created them for Christmas...

Christmas Morn

Twas the night before Christmas
And at my sister's house,
Engorged with food
I lay passed out on the couch.

"Go to bed!" scolded my wife
With a slap to my thigh.
I stumbled up the stairs
And mumbled "Good night."

Within minutes I was drooling
Unconscious in the guest bed,
With flashbacks of dinner
Dancing in my head.

Prime rib and potatoes,
Chocolate ganache in my belly,
That shook when I snored,
Like a bowlful of jelly.

All of a sudden there arose,
Such a clatter to break my peace.
The clock read seven am,
And up were my nephew and niece.

"Merry Christmas!" they exclaimed
To their father and mother.
But Uncle is still sleeping!
Please do not bother.

The ripping of paper,
The excited guffaws!
I'm hitting the "snooze" button
But the noise would not pause!

I dragged myself out of bed
With great determination.
And headed downstairs
To join the celebration.

"Merry Christmas!" was yelled
To which I could only grunt a reply.
I needed some coffee...
Only open was one eye.

Amidst the brightly wrapped boxes,
To my open eye did I see,
The rare sight of a room
Full of my family.

So rare is the chance
That we all get together,
The loss of some sleep
Is well worth the pleasure.

As a boy I received toys,
And now I ask for housewares.
I've learned the meaning of holidays
And it gets more meaningful each year.

Appreciate the gifts,
And moreso the thoughts that are given.
And appreciate those rare days
Spent with the family this seaon.

Stop Signs

You ever have one of those days where one weird thing after another happens, all related but totally unexpected, like someone tipped over the first domino in your domino chain before you finished building it?

It started with a dream about me being in a car crash. In a white Acura. (I own a black Pontiac.) In the dream, I had a fender bender with a family member and his family in their car on the Gowanus Expressway and my car was totaled. Like it hit a pole at 80 MPH. But all that happened to cause the crash was a lane change at maybe 15 MPH. Nobody was hurt, and the dream ended with me greeting the other family in their car, cause it was a family who I liked and haven't seen in a long time.

I got to work in the morning and turned on my computer. My homepage is set to Netscape.com, and in one of the daily tidbits of trivial bait to win over my click, it offered: "Which Signs Are the Best Drivers? And the Worst?" From that article, came this:
The number one worst drivers were Geminis, "typically described as restless, easily bored and frustrated by things moving slowly," explained Warren Duke, Suncorp's national manager of personal insurance. "They had more car accidents than any other sign."
Needless to say, I, am a Gemini.

About a half hour later, I had this IM conversation:
*********: wanna come over and drink!?!?!
TheBigKL: i would still have to drive
*********: you don't have to drive if you need to just crash!!!

Uh... did I mis-read that?

For the record, I've never been in an accident, asides from that cement pole that hit the side of my car while I was parking in a lot. (It came out of nowhere-I swear.) It's been a full day and a half and a hundred miles later, and no bad signs since. And I'll take that as a sign that I have at least a few dominoes left standing.

Life News (Just not my life...)

I learned enough this weekend to fill out a script for a prime time show on the WB.

• A friend who I haven't seen in six months is now five months pregnant. (If you do the math, it's safe to say that it has nothing to do with me.)
• A friend who I haven't seen or spoken to in what may be a year or longer is now engaged... to another friend who I haven't seen or spoken to in over two years.
• A friend who I haven't spoken to since the Spring is now getting a divorce. (Again, this one also has nothing to do with me.)

Even though there are neither any engagements, pregnancies, or divorces in my immediate life, I think this weekend has taught me that to avoid potential heart attacks from unexpected news as I get older, I'd better stay in more frequent contact with my friends.

Dental Breakdown

I took the day off of work today to do some holiday shopping, run some errands, and visit my dentist for Medieval torture and a free toothbrush.

I don't particularly like my dentist. She's a nice person, and she'll talk about anything... except about my teeth. You would think a dentist with over a decade of experience would know by now that I, her prone patient, would rather hear about what she found in my mouth, and not her trip to Ellis Island. Maybe she thinks I'm the type who likes surprises, and I like to guess why she's drilling into the nerves of my left wisdom tooth when the cavity was supposed to be in my right molar. (And for the record, I like surprises, but not if it involves a drill in my mouth.)

As I was lying under that crane-armed spotlight, listening to the drill and wincing from that and the shop vac sucking out my saliva, blood, and tonsils, I thought about how dental science hasn't advanced much since 1875. If a laser can shatter a gall stone, wouldn't something have been invented by now that can clean better than a drill? Even the sound has become synonymous with pain and fear. How much nicer would the world be if dentist drills played "It's A Small World After All" when turned on?

Now that I've gotten two additional cavities since my last visit, I'm going to make it a point to go about every 4 months. I figure logically, the more often I go, the less I'll have to endure in that chair, and maybe I can avoid the drill altogether. So be sure to visit your dental care provider at least twice a year, boys and girls, and no drill and free samples of Crest should give you something to smile about.

My fillings (I think there are two of them, and I think there are silver, which are just guesses since the dentist didn't bother to tell me) work just fine by the way, as I gave them a test run at the all-you-can-eat buffet, Minado.

Twirl The Baby

It's always amusing to discover new ways to make babies laugh. It's a bonus when they make you laugh so hard, you feel like you're going to pee in your own diaper.

This past Sunday, I played "Twirl The Baby." (You can play this with anyone you can physically pick up who won't wiggle out of your hands.) Just pick up the lucky recipient, and spin around three times at the very least. Do your best to not lose your grip for best results. Then put the lucky baby down, and watch him giggle and try to walk! (So that's what I look like on bar nights!) Good clean fun for all!

I heard the next day that the little guy was throwing up and pooping excessively. I would like to think I had nothing to do with it, but there may be obvious side effects for "Twirl The Baby."

If the mother of the child above is reading this... I was twirling a different baby...

Treo Amigo

So I have a new toy. After two years of being locked into my cell phone contract and saying "What??" for every other word in my cellular conversations, I've finally earned my right to dump my crappy Nokia 6200 and move on to a Treo 650. Now instead of a mere cell phone, I've now a cell phone/organizer/camera/multimedia device with a keyboard so small, i think I'll have to sharpen my thumbnails to little points to be able to type on it.

What I can do with my new technological best friend:

• look pretentious with an obnoxiously bright screen and an air of "I'm an important business guy who needs a shiny organizer that can call people."
• go through an empty calendar and enter in appointments to "do laundry from 8 PM to 10 PM" on a Saturday night.
• keep cell phone numbers of cute girls I've met 6 years ago and have never dialed (cause they're probably not legitimate numbers), but make me feel studly just because I have them
• indiscreetly take pictures of attractive strangers and save them in my address book to pretend I know them
• write blog entries on the train which will require me to ice my thumbs when I get home

*Updated: I've realized In the two weeks I've had this thing, I've received more compliments from males about my phone than I've received compliments from females in two months about anything. I will add on to the list of features: "Higher self esteem."

Thanksgiving Stuffed

The average adult human's small intestine is over 20 feet long. This past Thanksgiving weekend, I think I was able to fill up all twenty feet of my little friend.

If you happened to take a peek through my most used organ today, you would find:

• sushi buffet – no better way to start my weekend then a $19.99 all-I-can-eat starter. And since this was on a Wednesday night, it only cost $17.99! What a bargain!
• spam filled sushi rolls – tasted much better than anyone would expect. If these were served at an obscure meat buffet, I would no doubt pay $19.99 to feast on these.
• pineapple and cheddar and butter casserole, with a Ritz cracker topping – tasted like you would think tropical fruit and cheese and butter would taste like - but crunchier.
• homemade flan – a flantastic first time creation from wifey. We burned through 3 cups of sugar unsuccessfully trying to make caramel before resorting to Smucker's caramel ice cream topping from the local supermarket.

And Kudos to my big(gest) sister for making her best Thanksgiving dinner yet. (I didn't help cook, but I helped to do the dishes!)

Xbox 5750

Today is November 22nd, 2005, a landmark day in video gaming.

**********: Bids on eBay are over $1,000
********: crazy...
********: who the hell is that desperate?

The few... the desperate... the geeky.

The wait is over for the debut of the Xbox 360. Electronics stores across the nation opened their doors at midnight last night to the thousands of gamers who found some way to round up $500 so that they could stand in line for 12 hours and not worry about doing anything but getting their shiny new Xbox 360 home and playing it for the next 12 hours.

Man, I need a new job.

By 10 AM this morning, pretty much every retailer that was legitimately selling this little white marvel across the US was sold out. Until Black Friday, that is, when they bring the rest of the reserved shipment from the back room. *wink wink nudge nudge* This theoretically intentional shortage should create enough buzz and demand to have those who let marketing get the best of them clamoring for one ASAP, to ensure another day of sell-outs this coming Friday. Those who didn't have the digital cojones to stand out in the rain and cold, being pointed and laughed at by early bird shoppers in the mall parking lots and personalized candle kiosk attendees closing shop for the day, can resort to eBay:

Even if it's not too clear, you can see that this $399 system is selling for somewhere in the four digit range on our favorite (pretty much only) online auction site. And most recently, take a look at this:That's $5,750 for ONE system. Equivalent to a dozen shares in Google. Or a thousand fancy holiday eggnog cappuccinos from Starbucks. Looks like those patient, cold and wet geeks get the last laugh...

Happy Birthday Chicken Nuggets

I was never much of the gourmet chef. In college, my Italian specialty was spaghetti with ketchup squeezed out of packets I took from the cafeteria. My fanciest dish was eggs in a frying pan (which I discovered would puff up if you covered the pan, something I have never seen before, even on Iron Chef) with a sprinkling of hot dog slices. After college, my main staple (and later became my reputation) when I was living on my own were Hot Pockets. As I matured and learned to eat better, I switched to Lean Pockets.

This past Monday, we were plain out of food. Actually, we probably did have food, but it was uncooked and unmicrowaveable, which to me, is basically being out of food. What I did find in the back of my freezer though, was an open box of tasty chicken nuggets:

After laying out the rest of the frostbitten little breaded morsels of chicken on a shiny sheet of aluminum foil, I flipped the box around for cooking directions and noticed the following:

These nuggets are celebrating their two year birthday soon.

Needless to say, with no more food left in the house, I had no choice but to eat them. Drowned in Dijon mustard, they didn't taste older than a year.

Uncle Uncle

This past Saturday, I was given an important task, one I've never performed before: babysit my 15-month old nephew, by myself. No big deal - I'm bigger than him. Never mind that he can only communicate by pointing at things and shaking his head. And he just switched to cloth diapers.

To prep myself, I also accomplished a combination of things the night before that I have also never, ever done: limited my drinking to "no chance of a hangover" status, and cut the night short, being the first one out of the bar at 12:15 AM. I don't think there has ever been a more impressive show of uncle responsibility than this guy.

Come 9 AM Saturday morning, I was given a tour of the baby room, taught how to affix a cloth diaper, and how to dispose of what ends up in the cloth diaper. I learned how to pack a diaper bag, and how to fold and unfold a stroller. I had numbers for his doctor, poison control, and a flowchart for baby CPR. And grandpa, my back up, was on standby in his pajamas and newspaper. I was armed and ready.

After a rousing game of hide and seek, at least one of us was certainly tired out and ready for a nap. I don't think it needs to be said that it was undoubtedly me. The little guy's been up since 6 AM, and it was now 10 AM, and he was due for some sleepy time. Unfortunately, since he can't tell time yet, I don't think he was ready at all to go to sleep. After about twenty minutes of crying (him, not me), I gave up and passed him onto Grandpa. After another ten minutes, his eyes were slowly drooping, and some last-effort wails were sighed out of his drooling mouth. And he was asleep. When Grandpa tried to lay him down in his bed though, he was back awake and wouldn't stop crying until Grandpa gave up too. And now he's awake, and all hopes of a nap for slightly hungover Uncle were now down the toilet with the remains of the last cloth diaper.

The rest of the day was all giggles for him, and me dozing off on his bed, on the park bench, and in the car. As my babysitting shift ended, I, wifey, and the little guy and his parents rode in the Jeep back to their home from dinner. That's when the crying started. Visualize at this moment, this twenty pound bubble of a baby, buckled up in his car seat, giant cheeks and big eyes all wet from drool and tears, bawling and wailing, with his arms outstretched towards you grasping at air, as if you were the only person in the entire world who could save him from the clutch of his child seat. The last time I saw something that sad was this Disney movie.

Sunday morning, my legs are buttocks were sore from all the squatting I did the day before picking up and putting down a squirming, giggling twenty one pound baby - twenty pounds of baby, and a pound of cloth diaper. (If I wasn't so sore, I might have been blogging about my jaunt in the NYC Marathon. Might have.)

No Xbox For Me

Like a Summer breeze, the Xbox 360/Mountain Dew promotion has blown past me and ended. Alas, yours truly is not a winner this time. I was able to muster 52 entries, at a 6:30 AM Sunday morning time slot. I didn't get the final count, but it looked like in excess of 2,000 entries, judging by the number of entries in the later hours of the contest. (Still better than my chances of getting struck by lightning, which is 1 in 3000.)

Thanks for all those who contributed their caps, and I would have had every one of you over for a game if I had won. This past month wasn't a total bust though. I did win:

• A Pre-N router from Digital Life
• Two Cranium Family Fun board games
• A one-liter bottle of Coke

I think I've used up all my luck for the rest of 2005 though. Now I'll have to rely on skill alone to save up for the $400 Xbox in November...

Happy Halloween!

Only on Halloween (and only at Chipotle) can you have promotions like this:Another reason to love aluminum foil!

Dream Dictionary

My co-worker was generous enough to offer her two cents about my dream (previous post below) from her handy dandy dream dictionary.

Ghoul

To see a ghoul in your dream, suggests that your habits and negative ways are hindering your growth. The dream may also represent a fresh beginning.

I have no idea what this means. If I try to translate this, it's saying my sushi buffets and beer drinking (bad habits) are "hindering my growth." I think my belly is only getting bigger, so I'm not sure if my growth is actually being hindered...

Fight Night

The other night I had a really odd dream. I think it came about because I got into a Halloween discussion with some co-workers during lunch.

In my dream, I was in this fun-house type place, and we (me and who I believe was one of my co-workers) were running away from these ghouls of some sort. At one point, my co-worker pointed wildly behind me as something was approaching. I froze in my tracks and called out for help.

In the real world, I was grunting, or moaning in my sleep, waking wifey up and naturally causing a bit of concern.

Dream state: whatever was approaching was now right next to me. It was only about four feet high, and it began to headbutt me in my rib cage.

Real world: Wifey is pushing against my side to try to wake me.

Dream state: Being pretty much frozen to the ground from where I stood, I couldn't see what this 4 foot aggressor was. Mustering up all my courage, I remembered my years of martial arts training, spun around, closed my eyes, and sissy slapped whatever was next to me like there was no tomorrow.

Real world: Wifey is now wide awake and yelling herself, because I was sissy slapping her like there was no tomorrow.

Wifey was ok, as I purposely held back on my most powerful sissy slaps. There was some suggestion that I perhaps consider sleeping on the couch, but we'll save the more extreme solutions should this be a recurring problem...

Happy Belated

I hate when I do this... I remember a birthday, and I remember up to two days before... and I always tell myself, "Call/Write so-and-so tomorrow to wish them a Happy Birthday!" And then tomorrow comes, and I get hungry, or I see something interesting on eBay... and then before I know it, it's two days later, and I'm shopping for a belated birthday card. Which in turn, I usually forget to send out in time, and now I have a whole drawer full of belated birthday cards.

So without further ado, Happy Belated Birthday to this fine young gentleman:My rommate and referee during college, my finest video game rival, and my buffet buddy. Next round of all-you-can-eat is on me.

Now let me check my drawer for a nice belated birthday card for you...

Addict

For all those who have ever said I was addicted to video games *cough*wifey*cough*, read this article to know what true addiction is.

Notable snippets:

• In August, a 28-year-old man died after nearly 50 straight hours of playing online computer games.
• In 2002, a man died in Kwangju after 86 hours of marathon gaming.
• Hong Jin-ho, a 24-year-old professional gamer, earns more than 133 million won ($130,000) a year, living and training with his fellow game team members in an apartment in central Seoul.

And from my friend who sent me the article:
**************: i figure there's nothing wrong w/ the guy who died from playing too long :)
**************: everyone dies sometime
**************: dying while playing is probably a good way to go :-D

I couldn't agree more...

"I'm Lovin' It"

**************: i had mcd's for the last 3 days
Me: why??
**************: monopoly game and bestbuy bucks
**************: i have $8 in BB bucks
**************: u can win $3 BB bucks.. odds are 1 in 3

This is possibly the greatest form of mass-promotion and upsell I have ever seen. I'm talking about the McDonald's Monopoly game. The concept is so simple: Buy food you wouldn't normally buy to play a childhood game, and collect property pieces to win the ultimate prize. Even more genius is offering pieces of properties, forcing people to think they have to complete a property to win. "I just need St. James place, and I'll win a Sea Doo jet ski!" This form of essentially grown-up Pokemon keeps you from realizing that there are thousands of New York Avenues, but only two St. James place game pieces in the entire United States.

Now they offer Best Buy bucks as a consolation prize. Just spend $7 on a Super-Sized "Value Meal," and get $2 in Best Buy bucks. Or order some Chinese food for $5, and save your arteries for the same price. On second thought, I can't complete my Monopoly game board with my fortune cookie, so I'll stick to McDonald's.

Winning an Xbox by drinking Mountain Dew is so much more viable...

On a related note, an article on The Worst Breakfast you Can Eat.

She's a Pain

These past couple of nights, she's been whispering to me while I'm deep in sleep, waking me up with random nibbles. I try to pull the sheets over my head to hide from her, but she manages to get to me anyhow. I'm getting really, really annoyed. If I can find her, I'm gonna smack her so hard...

I'm being plagued by a mosquito. On the night we break out the comforter because the evenings are getting colder, she pays me a visit. I was woken up at 4 AM by the swooping buzz of beating mosquito wings. That's one of the most perturbing sounds to me - like the scratch of a fork against a plate. I shot up out of bed and left a trail of lights from the hallway to the bathroom to lead her out. In the bathroom, I discover three dollar-size welts along my left side.

Every living creature is supposedly put on this Earth for a reason. A mosquito is the prime example of a parasitic being which has no purpose in life but to cause discomfort to other living beings. What's the point???

Mosquito facts - know thy enemy:

• Only female mosquitoes bite
• Female mosquitoes can live from 3 to 100 days
• You only itch from a mosquito bite if you're allergic to them
• What causes the allergic reaction is the mosquito's saliva, which is injected under your skin to thin out your blood and make it easier to drink

End Party

Friday afternoon, or more than half the company has left for the day. This is not the norm. Staying past 7pm is the norm. No one dares leave before 6pm, but today is different. Today is the day after 6 hours of straight drinking for the majority of people who went out last night for our company off-site.

It started at a $3 Happy Hour. $3 draft beers were passed around like hot potatoes, and many new co-worker bonds were formed, and old ones strengthened. Lifting those heavy pints of beer so many times can get you hungry, and from there we moved on for grub. The company splits up now, each clique seeking their own form of nourishment, with one goal in sight: eat up, then go to the Google party. From here, the night gets interesting. I was not witness to most of the accounts I document here, but these were all whispered in one form or another this morning after.

• Drunkenly tossed pizza crusts at one co-worker caused a bit of friction, and another co-worker had to step in to break up the pizza parlor parley prior to parrying punches.
• A cab ride interrupted three times so my co-worker could leave his alcoholic load on the pavement.
• Someone I don't know, but a friend of one of my-coworkers, pressed tongues with a stranger at the Google party.

I am proud to say I was personally not a part of any of the aforementioned events, and I was so well behaved, no one will be writing about me in their blog. From what I can remember that is.

Industry Standard

An exciting week this week... a series of industry parties as a result of OMMA (Online Marketing Media Association) holding their conference at the Marriott Marquis in Times Square. It was good to get back to the old 'hood of 42nd and Broadway.

Industry parties usually consist of open bar, drunk yuppies (is that even a word anymore?), and fabulous giveaways. Yahoo! had theirs yesterday, but we discovered last minute that it was invite only. Then we discovered too late that they weren't checking for invites. Last year, Yahoo! gave us fancy sets of martini glasses, but we were all too drunk to get them home in one piece. I remember holding three stacks of white boxes, four glasses in each, then dropping them all onto the sidewalk. And it wasn't just me - all my co-workers either broke theirs, or left them on the train (*cough*my boss*cough*).

Tomorrow is our company off-site; our first one. We're growing at a temendous rate, and this all day meeting wil be held at a theatre North of Lincoln Center, discussing the status and future of the company. Personally, I'm quite interested to see where we're going considering how rapidly we've grown in the past two-plus years. Even more interesting will be the Google party afterwards. A few co-workers (I got mixed up in this crowd somehow) took vows that we would stay out late and really "Google" it up (wow, that was geeky) at the open bar tomorrow night, to make up for the lack of good parties last night. (Expect some stories as a result of the inevitable drunkeness.)

One more positive: this has been my first lax week in a looong time. Look, I'm writing this during (almost) business hours! Getting out early (6pm early) for more than two days in a week, sleeping in to attend sessions at the Marriott, and killing time in Times Square is another added bonus of a week like this. So if you can't get a hold of me this week, you have some vague idea of where I'll be - out of the office!

I Hate CompUSA

Time and time again, this mis-named ''super store" has found new ways to aggravate yours truly. Why again, you ask? Why do l bother going back? Because no matter how much they peeve me off, I can't resist their rock-bottom discounts and money saving rebates.

Today's quest was simple. Buy a mouse I’ve had my eye on for $10, seen here. I ensure that it's in stock through their real-time online inventory system, and I'm off.

In the store, I find the display sticker, the sale price in bold black ink, and a prominent, gaping hole in an otherwise full shelf of computer mice. Damn real-time online inventory.

This is where my adventure begins. I scan the store for red shirted sales associates and target the one walking away from me the slowest. In a store like this, a need for help is like a shotgun going off in a hunting safari, and all the employees scatter like slow-moving gazelles in red shirts. When I finally corner one, I ask for help in a Turret’s syndrome tone of voice so he can't pretend to not hear me. This responsive first employee in a red shirt says, “I’m security. Ask for help up front.” So I head up front and ask a second red shirted employee. “I can’t help you. I’m security.” I’m in a little bit of disbelief at this point, and ask, “How do I know who isn’t security?” And he points to another employee who is helping another customer. Than I realized people who aren’t security are wearing… uh… red shirts too. Stupid me. I think this attentive Security Guy #2 sensed my frustration and then volunteered to assist. And he does this by calling over the first security guy who couldn’t help me. Security Guy #1 ambles over and he’s now wearing a piece of Scotch tape on his shirt with the word “Security” hand written with ball point pen. Security Guy #1 escorts me over to the hole on the shelf. “It’s not here.” Thanks for telling me that, because I didn’t believe the hole existed in the first place unless I was assured it was there by a qualified employee. I replied, “I know it’s not there. I already told you that. I asked if you could check the stock room for more, because your real-time inventory said there was stock.” He says, “No, it would be on the shelf.” I snap back, “Not in the stock room?” Then we get into a philosophical debate on whether or not a stock room even exists. Suddenly, a revelation: “Let me check the computer,” he says. Keep in mind this was my suggestion in the first place, when we were originally standing by the computer, before he walked me over to the hole on the shelf that I already informed him existed. We walk back to Security Guy #2 and he punches in the SKU. I read the entire contents of the screen – how many were sold today, how many were on hand, how many were back ordered… and Security Guy #1 is tracing the letters with his finger as if they were Braille. “Says we have two.” Then he confers with Security Guy #2, to tell him there was a hole in the shelf, and they both nod and agree, “We have none in stock.”

Thoroughly beaten, and intellectually tapped, I retreat from the safari of CompUSA, awaiting for the next opportunity to challenge my wits and patience with the next unbeatable gadget bargain.

Oops, I Did It Again

I don't know what I was thinking. I said I would give it up... it's in writing down below. But yet, it still happened. Twice. Forgive me!

Thursday night: An hour and a half after we arrive at the all-you-can-eat sushi buffet, 7 bloated, immobile people (#8 was smart enough to NOT order the buffet), and there are 10 pieces of sushi spared on a plastic rectangular plate. What can you do? Split it up, one each. Maybe two for those brave enough, since it didn't divide evenly. And so full afterwards... Bad, bad idea. On a debate whether one piece of a cut roll was equivalent to one piece of sushi, we did conclude that the rice around the cut roll is pretty much equivalent to the amount of rice packed underneath one piece of regular sushi, for anyone keeping score for any all-you-can-eat sushi contests, i.e. peanve.

Side note: The Krispy Kreme down the block, which I was visiting after just to look in the window, is now disappointingly closed on 72nd St.

Friday night: A quiet Friday evening at the laundromat. Wife would like some sushi (she wasn't able to attend the previous evening's gorgefest), and there is oh so conveniently a sushi buffet across the street. Always one to please wifey (she's too modest to admit this to be true if you ask her directly, so please don't), I hesitatingly agree (she'll say I didn't hesitate at all, but it was an act I tell you), and we skip across the street to see what raw fish delicacies abound. As I sit down, the pang of desperate hunger hits. And the all-I-can eat menu is so appropriately in front of me. Now that I was solo on my journey, I can actually recall exactly what I ate:

• 4 pieces salmon
• 2 pieces white tuna
• 2 pieces yellowtail
• 1 Philadelphia roll
• 1 eel avocado roll
• 1 Alaskan roll
  

When I completed this, I still felt room in my belly. So when the waitress came back... "Can I get the same thing, but just with 4 salmon?" (Wise not to over do it.) So I added 22 pieces more to my sushi gut. I have no idea what I was thinking... That's 48 pieces of raw fish in me. That's like a whole pond.

So I'm not adhering to my rules very tightly... I think I need more encouragement and moral support. Maybe we can discuss the next time I skip a run on the West Side Highway, over a high-calorie beer and a sushi buffet.

New Addition

Click through to my newest Blog addition, mooloowong's journal of her adventures in motherhood. Be awed at snapshots of my nephew (in-law). Learn parenting tips and more!

The Official Beer of Canada

This past weekend I took my first genuine road trip with a couple of my buddies. We crossed the Northern border into Canada, at an average speed of 85 MPH. The most amazing thing about this country, is their national beer, Molson. With a mere alcohol percentage of 4.4%, this ordinary little bottled brew, looking light and tasting wheaty, was able to get me heavily buzzed after two bottles, and knocked one of my friends unconscious in our second night after three or four bottles.

I love Canada for this product alone. And after 32 hours there and five hours of sleep over two nights, I actually can't think of anything else to brag about from that country.

Google Blog Search

Google introduced a new Blog Search Engine. I spent an excessive amount of time trying to make my blog show up in the search results. I tried terms like "sexy man" but I still wouldn't show up. "Relevant search results" my arse.

Try it out and find blogs other than mine on alcohol, sushi buffets, and Mountain Dew.

Middle Weight

This Labor Day weekend came as a surprise. I think I didn't realize it was a 3 day weekend until last Wednesday. So I spent much time with the in-laws, the same people who point and laugh at me during most major family functions, asking each other in a language they think I don't understand whether or not I understand them. It was Sunday afternoon that my wife got the news. (I didn't hear of it till Monday.) Wifey says that one of her cousins told her "Your husband got bigger..." (And I thought, "Well, I've been working out and went running three times!") And then she concludes the sentence with "...in the middle!" I believe this was followed up with pointing at my midsection and lots of maniacal laughter, although this is just an assumption since I wasn't actually there.

Now a comment like this, is meant to be a compliment. It means wifey cooks well and I'm fortunate enough to be well-fed, and is an overall sign of prosperity (.i.e. Buddha). Unfortunately, "compliments" like this don't hold over too well in this day and age. (See FUBAR's blog for someone who gets complimented a lot.)

So as I'm getting older and the metabolism is getting slower, I'll make a further attempt at eating healthier and reel in the tummy a bit before my next major family function:
• afternoon banana crumb cake will be replaced with an actual banana or two. (I will miss you, sweet, inch high crumbly crusty...)
• only diet sodas until I win that elusive Xbox 360. Then no more soda at all. (I'm already getting Mountain Dew hangovers.)
• No more buffets, the ultimate stomach-expanding treat.
• Lite beers (I love how "light" food is always spelled ''Lite,'' as if they haven't yet defined ''lite" in the dictionary, but they certainly know it doesn't mean "light.") only. Or low-fat, high alcohol content beverages only, i.e. Scotches and Whiskeys.

The Big KL's IM Of The Day

I will not be discouraged from winning an Xbox 360 with these idle threats...

***************: plus
***************: i hope you know
***************: mountain dew kills sperm

Diet Dew

That's wrong. Someone bought all the regular Mountain Dews from my local deli, so I'm stuck with Diet Mountain Dew now. Damn you, local Mountain Dew drinkers.

I need your help collecting Xbox codes more than ever now. Or else I'll be convulsing from caffeine and losing weight.

On a more positive note, I learned that a new Dunkin Donuts just opened up, walking distance from the job.

Every 10 Minutes

Pepsi has a new promotion. There's a chance to win the new Xbox 360 every ten minutes. You get a code underneath the cap of Pepsi products, and then you enter it into their site. Then you can pick a 10 minute block of time and, if your entry is randomly drawn from that slot, you win a new Xbox 360.

I've already replaced my morning coffee with a Mountain Dew, but there is only so much I can Dew before I begin convulsing from caffeine. So all you Pepsi-product drinkers, don't waste your entries, and send me the codes from your caps! If I win, you can come over and play it with me.

Checking Out

Stepping quickly into my building's elevator, thinking only about my cup of coffee and black and white cookie in my brown paper bag, I hear quick footsteps towards the elevator door from the hallway. After pressing "3," I step to the back wall of the elevator and face out, knowing that whoever is coming has time to slip in before the door slides closed, saving me from the over-zealous effort of holding the "Door Open" button. In steps a short blonde, Rollerblades strapped to a small backpack. The Rollerblades catch my eye, and I think that even with the Rollerblades on, I'm still taller than my new elevator companion. As they step into the elevator, they pause for the briefest of seconds, and I sense a look, too long to be a glance. I make eye contact. The blonde quickly turns away and presses the "5" button. Was I just being stared at? Does this person recognize me? I sure don't recognize them... The door slides closed.

Anyone who has ridden in my elevator knows how slow it is. Just going to the third floor probably takes about 15 seconds. Within this span, my eyes gravitate towards the closed door directly in front of me, which is what people tend to do when they're in an elevator, since it's rude to stare at your fellow passengers, unless you know them. This little blonde though, back against the wall to my left, is staring at me. I have pretty good peripheral vision, and not only can I feel myself being stared at, I can see the eyes looking at me. When my eyes lock forward, probably with a subconscious look of awareness, or the ever-telling single raised eyebrow of mine, the blonde turns away.

On the lit number three and respective ding of the intended destination, the elevator slows to a halt and it's finally my cue to escape. The door opens, and as if on cue, the blonde is staring again. Staring until I get out and turn left.

Should I be flattered? I guess I should be. Even if I was single though, that little blonde guy just wasn't my type.

The Big KL's IM Of The Day

Don't think about this one too hard...

******: But I'd be in a puddle of my own urine next to you

The Big KL's IM Of The Day

I do believe this was meant to be a compliment:

*******: she is cute
*******: in that immigrant third world sort of way

The Running Man, Part II

As of today, I have successfully completed three runs. (The second run wasn't worth noting - I think I ran the same distance, just in the opposite direction - intentionally, mind you.) What happened today though, I am proud to share publicly with you, my loyal readers.

After my second run past the pier and a floating crane, I learned that my co-workers run well past this landmark, and run about twice as far. How disappointing to know that I only ran half their distance. Then when I asked where the stopped, they replied, "We didn't stop. We ran back when we hit..." (I blanked out on what was said because at this point in my mind I realized I only ran a quarter of the distance that they ran, because I stop for a 5 minute plus rest at my halfway point.)

So today I ventured out with this depressing distance calculation in mind. I started my run, and tried not to think too hard about how tired I was getting so quickly. And I ran, until I hit the public restroom and the crepe place, which was thankfully closed so late in the evening. (This, faithful readers, was my stopping point as I had mentioned in my previous post.) What I did here, I can hardly believe even now that I would even consider, much less accomplish. I ran the trail the long way around the crepe place, and turned back along the path I came from. I ran with the determination to reach my starting point, without stopping... and I made it. Today I doubled my original running distance, and still retained consciousness without falling down, even once.

While others run marathons across all five boroughs, across cities and states, I personally ran past the distance of the crepe stand, and now that I know that can be done, I'm going to got further every chance I get.

Baby Bite

So we went to visit my nephew-in-law today, and the little tike is now up on his hind legs, stomping around like a knee high Godzilla, pulling and tugging on anything at his eye level. He's still smiling like he just heard the funniest joke in his one year lifetime, and it gets funnier every five minutes. And he does this odd thing where he sounds like he's clearing his throat, like a deep "a-a-a-a-hem" - so it's like a throat clearing cackle that he pulls off at will, and he has me in tears when he does it.

Wifey picked him up and got her arm a bit too close to his chomper... and he bit down pretty hard, leaving a four tooth scar indentation, as seen to the right. This photo was taken hours later after it happened, so we're hoping she isn't scarred for life.

Day of the T-Shirts

Before noon today, I've been exposed to three t-shirts that made me chuckle. I rarely see one t-shirt that would even make me smile, so this makes an exceptionally interesting start to my day.

T-Shirt #1: An Asian girl on the train is wearing a pink one that says "Everybody likes an Asian girl." Indeed. (I would like one of these for myself.)

T-Shirt #2: I actually didn't see this one, but they talked about it on the radio. With the rush of the Sixth (?) installment of Harry Potter, and it's much talked about surprise ending, there is a T-Shirt out that says "XXXX kills XXXXX on pg. XXX."

T-Shirt#3: Finally, my co-worker was wearing one of these. She was sitting in a swivel conference room chair, so I first saw the following on the front in happy, curly-q letters:
"Dream like you will live forever..."
Oh, what a happy shirt... And then she spun around enough in her chair that I saw the back:
"...live like you will die tomorrow."
Now that's some depressing shirt. I'm lucky I saw the front of the shirt first, or I would have had a breakdown right then and there in the conference room.

Happy... uh... Engagement!

Just got the news... Congrats to peanve's lil' sis on her engagement!

Happy Bithday Little Big Sister!

Happy Birthday to the girl downstairs, who I'm sure was responsible for changing my diaper at least a couple of times when we were growing up!

Running Man

So I went for my first outdoor run today, down by the West Side Highway. I'm not sure why people on that path, panting and sweating through their clothes, seem to be enjoying themselves. All masochists, I'd guess.

During the run, I had no watch, so decided to judge myself on distance rather than time. I would look ahead and see a stop sign, or traffic cone, and use that as my goal. If nothing was hurting too much by the first goal, I would look for another goal. I felt my body deteriorating the further I ran. My shins were the first to feel it. Then the stomach. Then the heart. I decided my goal would be the public men's room up ahead, because by that time I felt like I needed to vomit. A little bit further past the men's room, was a crepe and dessert stand. That was enough to give me renewed energy to run just a little bit further. Luckily, I was too out of breath to be able to say "One crepe with extra whipped cream, please." So I walked off the rest of the way past the crepe stand and took in the fresh seawater scent of the Hudson River, mingling with the effervescent exhaust from the West Side Highway, before continuing my jog back.

I'm hoping to keep this up at least once a week for now, and when the weather gets cooler, twice a week. If all of a sudden you no longer see updates to the blog, then I probably didn't make it back from my last run.

Macho Pocky

I'm sure you all know what Pocky is... Long biscuits covered in chocolate, with a convenient non-chocolate end for holding? Found in Asian supermarkets and grocery stores everywhere.

The normal gang was hanging out in a new dessert place tonight, because we were too far from Little Italy and no place locally was big enough to fit our gang of seven. So we found some empty tables, with enough chairs to accommodate, and hung out this evening in a Japanese grocery mart seated next to a homeless person and her jar of peanut butter. One of my friends was roaming the aisles and called my attention to the box you see on the right: Men's Pocky. Pocky for men?? Why??? Higher protein and testosterone content than in normal Pocky, I thought. My innate detective skills investigated immediately... There is a different type of cocoa in the ingredients list, and there is a higher amount of saturated fat and 10 times the amount of cholesterol than in normal Pocky. Nowhere on the box does it actually explain the difference though. Hmmm...

I came to the conclusion that there doesn't need to be a difference. We need things that are separate for men. Remember when Structure was a men's clothing store? Then it became "Express for Men?" Express sells women's clothes! They can't sell men's clothes too. We need men clothes, men's rooms, and men food. It's evolution.

If you wish to discuss more Pocky, I found a board dedicated to the Super Snack here.

More stuff for men, I say.

Giving Away *sniff*

Everyone knows the sacrifices I've made since being married... The limited video gaming hours... the toys in the attic... I'm half the man I used to be.

Today, wifey has left me alone in the house with the one task that has taken me two years to finish (with not much end in sight): "Clean the back room."

I'm a nostalgic pack rat. I shed a tear when my wife found the seating card in my old suit to my High School prom and threw it out.

I am now sharing the material possessions of my rich youth with you, faithful readers.

I have for gifting:

• An Old School Word Processor - state of the art for it's time (1995), you can edit your words right on screen, and save documents to floppy disks! Weighs a light weight 30 pounds, and include revolutionary storage space for 3 additional floppy disks! Also doubles as a manual typewriter, for filling in tax forms and ransom letters. By our favorite portable word processor manufacturer, Brother.
• 100 Pound Weight Set - give or take a few pounds. This weight set is endorsed by world famous body builder Joe Weider. Being that I have graduated to lifting many more pounds, a mere 100 pounds will not do. I received this as a sixteenth birthday gift from my sister. Includes barbell, two dumbbell handles, and various plates, with matching collars. In fashionable red and black, with durable iron construction. Be as buff as I was when I was 16!
  
• Light Weight Paper Shredder - fairly recent, bought it myself from Staples, to shred documents I don't want my wif- er, I mean my lawyers to see. In perfect working condition, shreds up to three sheets at a time (hence "light weight") and is made to fit over any garbage can with adjustable supports. Great for making confetti for any special occasion.
  

Let me know if interested in any of these fabulous items! No money is necessary (if I know you); just give these things a good home.

How Was My Trip

My first full day back, displaying my new tan (making me truly tall, dark, and handsome), spawned countless "how was your trip?" questions today. Did you know "Puerto Rico" means "Port of Riches" in Spanish? Pretty obvious, but I never thought about it before. Anyway, here are the highlights:

• Night time kayaking in bioluminescent bay: Paddling a kayak in pitch darkness through stabbing mangrove trees, where the water lights up like black light on white, due to the millions of microorganisms who spark up like fireflies in the water when agitated.
• The Bacardi Rum Factory: Acres of beautiful landscape, like an alcoholic Disneyland, where they shuttle you around to different buildings and give you free rum-infused drinks. I learned the difference between Bacardi Silver and Gold, and where that bat logo came from.
• El Morro and San Cristobal Forts: Puerto Rico is the gateway to the Caribbean, and what better watchdogs than 6 story fortresses with 150 feet tall walls, and 500 cannons a piece of varying shapes and sizes.

And the low lights:

• Forgetting my contact lenses - every time I stepped from an air conditioned indoor environment or vehicle to the natural, hot and humid outdoors, my glasses would fog up for several minutes.
• Mosquitoes - these little pests are smaller than New York mosquitoes, making them harder to see and detect. You'll know you're around mosquitoes only after they bite you.
• Domino's Pizza - they close at midnight - especially disappointing after a day of hiking and kayaking and no dinner.

Old State Of Mine

Just a quick update to let you know I'm back from my trip. Touched down last night around 12:30 AM, about 45 minutes later than what was intended. (We were also late taking off, so that's two strikes so far.) Jet Blue also lost my $15 luggage lock, so I will probably complain. Otherwise good flight, tasty snacks, lotsa leg room, and I was able to watch "Hide and Seek" with Robert Deniro and Dakota Fanning on the flight up, so I would fly with them again, but just be conscious of their lack of tardiness.

I'm extremely groggy right now in my ergonomic office chair, and catching up with whatever was thrown at me the past few days work-wise. Will update this thing with more info later tonight.

Right now, I'm just looking for cheap food (I think we spent about $100 a day on "mofongo" and Subway sandwiches out there) and some rest.

Leaving On A Jet Plane

Deciding whether to pack six pairs of underwear or seven, imagining every possible scenario where you may actually need that extra pair of underwear, is stressful business. I'm taking a break from the packing right now to provide one last update in a while to my loyal readers.

We're getting ready for our 6:15 AM pick up to JFK airport for our 9 AM flight to San Juan, where we'll be basking in the sun and mosquitoes of Puerto Rico for the next six days. I'll be taking a break from the Blogging naturally, but will attempt to keep up the writing via old fashioned pen and paper, since my viewing audience has now more than doubled from when it was only me.

Look forward next week to stories about places where I wore a life vest to keep me alive, how I've gotten sunburned again, and general complaints about places that aren't New York and the main language isn't English. I'll see you all when I get back!

Happy Anniversary

With a reminder from my mom, and several friends and co-workers, (not that I forgot,) Happy Two Year Anniversary to my one and only. Two years already... time flies when we're having fun, eh?

Wrong Number

Cell phone rings. It's a 212 number.

"Hello?" I say. (I always answer in my manly, professional voice if I don't recognize the number, just in case.)

On the other end: "Caroline?"

I reply "Wrong number."

For anyone who has heard me speak... do I sound like a "Caroline?" (Even if Caroline was a heavy smoker?)

Geez...

Beverly Hills 90210: The Lost Episode - "The 90210 Kids Go To New York"

The Walsh siblings, Brandon and Brenda, played by Jason Priestley and Shannen Doherty, hit the NY nightlife with their loyal friend Steve, played by Ian Ziering, and Dylan, portrayed by Luke Perry. After a night of heavy drinking they hit the subways to head back to their respective overnight hotels. Dylan leaves the friends and suggests to Brandon that he gets Steve home in one piece, since he seems like he's in the worst shape. As they're walking in to the subway station, Steve begin to sober up, and Brandon begins to feel the alcohol's effects and begins acting more irritable and belligerent. Here is an excerpt from the script from the subway car scene:

CUT IN: INT. NYC SUBWAY CAR - NIGHT

THE SUBWAY CAR IS PACKED WITH PEOPLE, FROM THE NEW YORK CITY NIGHLIFE.
STEVE IS HOLDING ON TO THE CENTER POLE WITH HIS LEFT HAND. BRANDON IS TOTTERING AND HOLDING ON TO THE POLE WITH ALTERNATING HANDS, OBVIOUSLY INTOXICATED, WHILE BRENDA IS IN BETWEEN THE BOTH OF THEM. STEVE REACHES OUT OCCASIONALLY WITH HIS RIGHT HAND TO GRAB BRENDA'S ELBOW TO STEADY HER IN THE MOVING TRAIN WHILE SHE REACHES INTO HER PURSE FOR SOME GUM.

BRANDON: (IN DRUNKEN SLUR) I'm taking you home, man.

STEVE (AMUSED, WITH SLIGHT CHUCKLE): Brandon, I'm fine. I'm gonna take you to your train station.

BRENDA: Yeah, Brandon. We'll take you. (TO STEVE) Do you want some gum?

BRANDON (RAISING VOICE TO STEVE): What are you laughing at?

STEVE LOOKS UP AND WHEN HIS EYES MAKE CONTACT WITH BRANDON, BRANDON THROWS A QUICK JAB TO STEVE'S FACE, HITTING HIM IN THE MOUTH. STEVE REELS BACK, SHOCKED, WITH BLOOD ON HIS LIP. THE ENTIRE SUBWAY CAR IS STARING AT THE TRIO.

BRENDA: (SCREAMING AT BRANDON) What are you doing?! Calm down!

STEVE LOOKS SHOCKED, BUT DOESN'T PREPARE TO FIGHT BACK. HE INSTEAD LOOKS AT THE ONCOMING GAZES OF THE PASSENGERS, REALIZING THAT THIS COULD BECOME CHAOTIC IF INSTIGATED. BRANDON DRUNKENLY STAGGERS BACK, LETTING GO OF THE POLE AND SLAMMING HIS BACK AGAINST THE SUBWAY CAR WALL.

This Friday night, I was Ian Ziering. And I got punched in my mouth from a very drunken friend. And I do not regret not punching him back, but will wonder how awkward this will be for the both of us next time I see him sober.

The Big KL's IM Of The Day

This came up as a result of the below post:

********: Though I must admit I do think about Prison most of the time
********: Where else can you get three hots and a cot, and steady stream of cigarettes...

I should be more careful of who reads this Blog...

To Sing Or Not To Sing

I'm not sure when I started adopting Karaoke as a hobby. Definitely after college, when I was settling back into New York, and finding affordable things to do that didn't take too much of a toll on my aging body became a necessity. Tonight (it's only Wednesday night?!), I once again fell into the trap of "nothing-to-do-but-too-early-to-go-home," and ended up in a new place to sing in claustrophobic rooms with non-stick wipe clean furniture. This den of sing, aptly titled Sing Sing, can be found behind a darkened, tape-stained glass wall on Ave. A at ground level, not to be confused with the newer, cleaner, more modern, upper level Sing Sing on St. Marks (not that I frequent both on a regular basis). If you ever dare to venture in to the Ave. A Sing Sing, take the time to read and be aware of the following:

• When it feels like you've stepped in something, it's the floors, not your shoes. From the doorway to the restroom, the floor is coated with what must be a sticky, 3M slip-resistant surface, most likely for the safety of their patrons.
• "Sound proof rooms" don't account for the ventilation system which connects the rooms to each other, where it sounds like there's a party in the ventilation shaft... a party you weren't invited to.
  
• Watch out for small animals living in their songbooks. In our case, a roach crawled out from between the pages when we opened the book. I imagine different books have different animals, depending on what language the book is in.
• Wash your hands after touching the books. Like the floors, the pages of the books are also treated with a sticky, slip-resistant surface, most likely for the safety of the animals that live in them, so they don't accidentally fall out and hurt themselves.

On the bright side, this place is a buck cheaper per hour than any of the cleaner, surrounding Karaoke places. And they have a full bar!

Bone Lick Park

Do a search for "Bone Lick Park" on the Internet, and you'll find info for a state park in Kentucky, called "Big Bone Lick" (or "Big BL," no relation to "Big KL"). Do a search for Bone Lick Park in the West Village on a hot summer night, and you'll be wading downtown in 100% humidity for a half hour, coated in sweat, trying to figure out where Greenwich Street ends and where Greenwich Avenue begins. When you do eventually find it, on the opposite corner of St. Vincent's hospital on Greenwich Ave and 7th Ave, you'll be... unimpressed. It's in a dineresque setting, complete with high stools, round tables, and a bar serving draft beer. Sit down and look for one item on the menu: The Texas Beef Rib Sandwich. This place is known for their real wood grill, and you can taste it in the meat. This is how I suspect they make this sandwich: They took some beef ribs and lather it in BBQ sauce. It's slow cooked in a genuine hickory wood grill, and an open faced sesame seed bun is placed right under it. The juices drip down into the bread, and the meat cooks until it falls off the bone right onto the bun. Put it on a plate with some pickles and coleslaw, and you've got an instant menu must-have.

You stab at the meat with your fork, and it flakes apart. I wanted a second sandwich immediately after I ate the first in record time - it's that good. Rarely do I have a meal as unforgettable as this (for what I can remember). Take a look for this place if you're ever lost in the West Village, and let me know if you disagree.

And here's the map... you'll need it!

One Year Already

This little guy turned a year old this past weekend. His parents threw him a baby-filled monkey themed birthday party in Battery Park, where I received my second shade of tan this summer. He's a happy tyke, with a greater social life than yours truly. He's been to more places in his lifetime than I have all year. (Considering his lifetime is equal to all of my past year, that's not too shabby.) Born in the year of the monkey, his mom cleverly created a larger-than-life monkey cake. This delicious triple layered, cream-filled primate took the majority of the evening before to put together by mom and aunties, and as you can see, they weren't monkeying around. (Sorry, but you should have seen that one coming.) The birthday boy was due for his naptime by early afternoon, and slept through the ride home, but much fun was had by all nevertheless.

Happy Birthday little guy, and may your many birthdays to come be filled with equally large cakes...

The Big KL's IM of The Day

And this occurred while I was sober...

************: i wanted to be she-ra
************: i still want to be she-ra!

I Remember Hearing That Drinking Affects Memory...

Things that I've learned today that I've forgotten about from last night:

• I bought rounds for more people than I thought
• I threw into the tab every twenty dollar bill in my wallet
• I promised my wife my Metrocard
• My plans for tonight
• My wife's plans for tonight
  
• Eating food

I should take more notes when I'm drinking....

Hangover (just a bit)

Whoa... a bit of a headache this morning. I believe it was due to my little friend, Bacardi 151. I highly recommend that you try this out in shot form just once in your life, even though most definitions of this potent rum advise "consuming the rum by itself- 'straight', is highly discouraged." (Just don't do more than three at a time.) Someone I was speaking with Monday night suggested that Tang has the magic ability to negate all the alcoholic flavor from 151, which would be extremely dangerous, since the taste is discouraging enough to warrant no more than one shot at a time.

My apologies to the owners of Biny last night for the multiple broken glasses.

Fully Caffeinated

I haven't had a cup of coffee since Sunday. I drink coffee every day. Except this week. And there was extra sugar in this one. I'm trying to avoid drinking it every day, cause I don't want to be one of those junkies who get headaches if they skip a day. And I think I was doing pretty well... Caffeine wouldn't affect me at all, usually. Drink coffee, take a nap. But today... the coffee was right there. Behind the counter. In an urn. Just put it in a patterened paper cup, please. And slowly hand it to me, and I'll give you this lavishly illustrated canvas of green ink and an important man in exchange. What a bargain. Now my leg can't stop shaking. I forgot to request "One sugar." Ouch.

And I brought in these "pineapple buns" from Chinatown to a couple of co-workers this morning, from the same place that served me the coffee. My company loves these pineapple buns. My mom says they're made with a whole lot of pork fat, which is how they stay soft and good. And they don't ever offer nutritional information on one of these things. And they don't taste like pineapples.

Wow, that was a sweet coffee.