Vacation Weekend, pt. 1

I've been out of school for more than a year now, always having been fully aware that the first year out would be one of the roughest. Since August, excluding a short three-week period between restaurant jobs over the winter, I've been on a seven-day-per week work schedule, splitting the time between whichever restaurant it is at which I happen to be working, and a "professional" endeavor - first an internship with a tourism magazine, and now as an associate at a public relations company. It's a lot of work, and my days off are few and far between. This past weekend was the exception, as I took off Friday through Sunday for a super fun vacation at home. While I might have liked to have gotten a little rest, the weekend was jam-packed with exciting activities that I simply couldn't resist. Let's start with Friday.

After a leisurely afternoon highlighted by a rigorous lawn-mowing, I hopped into the car and headed down to Penn's Landing for a show at the Festival Pier. I had company, my buddy Ryan and the infamous Jennie Doyle, as well as one of Ryan's roommates. This was just my second visit to the Festival Pier, my first being a Phil Lesh and Levon Helms show about a month, month and a half ago. I warned my passengers that my last visit, I parked at an incredibly lucky metered spot at the front of the venue, and that getting parking would probably not be so easy this time.
Lo and flippin' behold, the second-to-last metered spot was breathtakingly unoccupied. I popped ol' Cassidy into the spot and got change for the meter across the street at a gas station, and we made our way in.
This was a show I was looking forward to in that I knew very little about what kind of experience would bloom. Umphrey's McGee (left) and Sound Tribe Sector 9 were playing, two bands who draw crowds similar to my usual fellow audience members at, say, Dark Star Orchestra shows or Bob Weir & Ratdog shows. The difference was that I'd only seen Umphrey's perform live once before, and never seen Sound Tribe. So I was largely going in blind, and very excited about what might transpire.
Umphrey's opened, and they rocked. Some extremely funky, electronic jams came vibrating forth from the stage, the bass and drums as loud as, and probably louder than, any noise code could possibly allow. I got a spot relatively close and felt the ground hum loudly beneath me with every beat.
They played long, energetic jams, with the only exception being the only song I could name - a cover of the Beatles' "Dear Prudence". And their single-set performance went a full ninety minutes, all of us fully aware that they had to save some energy for a late night performance at the TLA a few hours afterwards. If they were holding anything back, I wouldn't have known it, because this was as good as I could have hoped for.

Sound Tribe Sector 9 (right) know how to throw it down, and I know this for a fact, thanks to a somewhat sizable collection of their music available for free on the Internet Music Archive. They're from Atlanta, and also have a funky, electronic thing going on, similar to what you might hear at a Disco Biscuits concert (but minus a considerable portion of the annoying Bisco crowds). I'd gotten my hands on their New Year's 2004 show and played the hell out of it - some really awesome music that was really working the audience. My anticipation was very high for these guys.
And as I expected, I wasn't disappointed. The band put on a smooth, bass-driven performance with an outstanding light show. The crowd clearly not a sellout, and it seemed like the people who were there were the ones that really, really wanted to be there. Everyone danced as hard as I did, and everyone got along extremely well. There was a sense of harmony in the audience, broken only briefly when a miscreant hippie went sprinting through the crowd, followed quickly by a security guard. Ryan summarized it well when he said, "Wow, that guy really didn't want to get caught."
My only complaints included the brevity of the second show. Sound Tribe played one set and only one set, which lasted a maximum of ninety minutes. Second, while there are only a handful of song I'd know if I heard them, well, they didn't play any of those. And the vendors at Festival Pier are as expensive as any other place, only with a beer selection about as limited as a carnival.
Otherwise, I was smiling start to finish. If you go to this venue, here's some advice: look for metered parking in front of the venue, and if it's not available, try parking at Dave & Buster's. If I remember correctly it was about $8 compared to $20 at the venue itself, though I don't know if that's okay with the Dave & Buster's people. Somebody, try it and tell me what happens.
And as usual, have your drinks before you go in, rather than buying them inside. While paying $6 for an MGD pounder is a little better than at a Phils game, it still leaves a shitty taste in your mouth (as does the beer).

And look at that, it's 4:15 and time for me to get ready for work again. I'll get into Saturday and Sunday's thrilling activities in my next post, coming tomorrow afternoon.

Reebok Attacks

Monday rolls along, and I put in a day at the office. Afterwards, my good friend John Clay ambled his way over to my place for a nice night of beer drinking and Home Run Derby watching. Clay was kind enough to bring over a case of Rolling Rock bottles, unaware of the fact that I'd gone and purchased a case of Leinenkugel's Sunset Wheat. The two cases had to share what limited space I had in my fridge, and Clay and I commenced our consumption.
After a while, after what seemed like hours worth of nonsensical crap playing on the television before they let the Derby begin - complete with a fucking 3 Doors Down performance (blecch) - the competition began, and our boy Chase Utley did not put on his best showing and was quickly eliminated.
Not long afterwards, another friend of mine from college, Ryan Stauffer, walked in the front door. Ryan lives just blocks away from me here in Conshohocken, and doesn't go out much during the week as he has a real-person job every day. But he dropped in just at the right time, just in time to see Josh Hamilton of the Rangers go on a spree of homers. The guy hit 28 in the first round, smashing Bobby Abreu's former record of 24. Quite an entertaining show, but nothing compared to what came next.

This, on the left, is Reebok. Reebok is one of more than ten assorted fish that inhabit our living room fish tank. He's a catfish, one that grows very large in the wild (upwards of 100 pounds), and our most expensive fish at purchase time ($50, split between me and my roommate Dave).
Reebok, as you may notice, has another fish sticking out of his mouth in this photo. This was brought to my attention by Ryan, who sat not three feet away from the tank and noticed a big commotion all of a sudden. We get up to look, and the little motherfucker has another fish crammed into his mouth, its head sticking out, its gills still moving and it struggling to free itself from Reebok's gaping jaws. Every now and then it would make a concerted effort to swim free, at which time Reebok would simply bash it against the wall or the floor to shove it further into his mouth.

Before long, a few other fish were starting to throw themselves into the fray. This orange guy pictured here is a Parrot Fish (referred to here as a Habok Fish), which generally doesn't bother Reebok for any reason, as Reebok is usually a bottom feeder and the two don't cross paths too frequently. Here, you'll notice the Habok smashing itself against the head of the half-swallowed fish, either as a show of support for Reebok, as a jealous attempt to get in on the kill (which was not dead, mind you), or a show of protest against Reebok and his fucking fierce domination of our fish tank and everyone inside.

Reebok's appetite for blood has been whetted in recent weeks, when either Ian or Dave brought home two very small fish, both of which looked slightly similar to tiny sharks. One day, we come downstairs and one of them is missing. Reebok, in the meanwhile, is completely engorged, his belly fatter than it's ever been, and sticking out of his mouth is the tailfin of one of those baby sharks, which he was still in the process of swallowing whole and digesting. And the very next day, the other baby shark is gone too, swallowed whole by Reebok, whose belly was so fat that I thought he was going to die. He hadn't even pooped the first one out, and he had already swallowed the second.

But until today, we'd always assumed that Reebok, the timid bottom-feeder who danced in the water for us and who looked too cute to harm another fish, had just eaten those baby sharks after they were already dead. We didn't think him capable of murder.
But here he was, with a live fish in his jaws for maybe as long as 15 minutes while it struggled for its life. And in one grand, climactic moment, the captive fish made one last-ditch effort to break free, and almost made it out. But Reebok flailed, fought, and smashed that little guy against something or just snapped its neck in his mouth. The captive fish went motionless, and Reebok released him just momentarily, allowing its lifeless body to float in front of him for a split second while he repositioned himself, and clamped down on it again, this time onto its head first. He shimmied the fish down its throat, with just the tiniest bit of tail fin protruding from his mouth (as you can barely see on the lefthand side), before swallowing the entire creature altogether.

After his meal, Reebok settled quietly into the corner of the tank, occasionally swiming vertically in place in, I assume, an attempt to get the fish down inside him and the digestion process started. As was the case when we found him after his last engorging, his stomach was the size of a raquetball (see photo on right), thanks to his snake-like devouring of one of his fellow fish. But now we know that, behind that adorable, playful facade that our dear Reebok puts on for most people, he's a fucking cold-hearted killer. He's got a taste for blood, and he's not going to tolerate that fish food crap any longer. It's only a matter of time before he preys on his next victim, and now he knows how to do it himself, rather than just sitting idly by and waiting for something to die naturally.
Beware. Or else Reebok'll fuckin kill you.

Food Review: Sarah Lovelace (5 out of 5)

Food: Whatever she feels like cooking
Location: A cozy, 2-bedroom apartment in Bensalem
Phone: Get it yourself
Date visited: Many, many different dates
Rating: 5 out of 5


In rating dining establishments on this blog (and on Citysearch before I started writing here), I have been setting aside the 5-star rating for a place that has really worked for it. I wanted so badly to walk into John's Roast Pork and find the perfect cheesesteak, but alas, I will not give credit where it is not due, and it has not yet been due at any restaurant that I've visited.
So you can imagine the explosion inside my head yesterday when I realized, as I sat paralyzed by the latest culinary masterpiece that had eminated from Sarah Lovelace's kitchen of wonders, that I had found that 5-star dining establishment that I'd been searching for.

Sarah came into my life thanks to Joey Salvucci, my roommate from freshman year in college and very good friend (although his 1400 SAT score pales and shrinks like a flaccid penis next to my 1410). The two of them (both pictured above, by the way) started dating at the beginning of our senior year, when they conveniently lived directly next door to each other (and next to Keller's, the beer distributor). Joey had a Sam's Club membership, and fuckin' milked it for all it was worth, lining his fridge and freezer with meats, cheeses and various other delicious foods, until it could hold no more. So the two of them would cook, cook, cook and honed their hands in the kitchen.
Nowadays, the two of them live together in Bensalem, having moved there just a month ago or so from Mt. Holly, NJ. As of just recently, both of them work at the same financial company, which is funny because Sarah just got her job and will be making more money than Joey. The three of us comprise the road trip team for next year (see corresponding post), an idea that developed gradually over this past Democratic primary season, which was the impetus for countless Tuesday evening drives to Joey & Sarah's over the last year.
And during these visits, Sarah would selflessly take to the kitchen and cook up these masterful concoctions, generally corresponding with a state that was holding its primary on the day of each of my particular visits. Idaho's primary dinner was highlighted by potatoes, Iowa's by corn, and so forth. It was a brilliant way to enjoy the ever-stressful primary season, and the meals were always outrageous in portion and divine in taste. Her many masterpieces have included chicken parmesan over pasta, appetizer night (consisting of meatballs, stuffed mushrooms, shrimp and much more), or last night's dinner, quite possibly one of the most satisfying of my entire life.
I arrived at Joey's on the early side, just before 5:00 after working lunch at my restaurant. Usually, I'd have taken the easy route and chowed down on salad, chili and pork sandwiches during my shift, all of which I make or retrieve for myself and therefore don't have to pay for, as the rules go. But I held on, curbing my appetite for the evening ahead next to Sarah's kitchen.
After a smoke and a few rounds of drinks (Rolling Rocks and various shots), Sarah began the barrage with a frying pan adorned with a birthday cake-sized slice of Brie and a box of "entertainment crackers," which was gone almost as soon as she put it in front of us. After I declined a salad, I was instead brought roughly 1/3 a head of lettuce, intact, drizzled with ranch dressing and surrounded by croutons. And the main course, the glorious climax, featured steamed broccoli, creamy mashed potatoes and two large hunks of some of the best homemade meatloaf I've ever had. I felt my stomach expanding and my pace slowing, but it was too good not to finish. I shoveled every bite into my gaping mouth (besides the broccoli - no thanks), and proceeded to lay practically comatose in the living room for the next hour.
This is what Sarah does every time I visit (though yesterday's dinner was among the best she's ever made), and soon we'll all be living together in Portland, Oregon. She warned me that I will get very fat, which I look forward to as much as anything else in the world.
So hat's off to Sarah Lovelace, the culinary supergenius whose home is the best place I know of to eat an amazing, overfilling meal.

My Top 5 Dumb Movies

Happy New Month, folks, and happy 3/4 of a birthday to me. What got me thinking about this is a mystery to me, but it's something that everyone should be somewhat well-versed in. There are days when you have time off and you want to watch a good movie, but then paying attention to the movie turns into more of an ordeal than whatever it is you have a day off from. I know the feeling well, and it's been the downfall of many a movie-watching venture in my day (such as 2001: A Space Odyssey, of which I own my copy and someone else's and still have never sat through the whole thing).
So it's very important, for those days when your brain is only functioning at about 25-50%, to have a backlog of really stupid movies that you can indulge in. They won't hurt your brain, they won't lose your attention, and some of them are extremely entertaining. Though I must caution you that without smoking at least a little pot before watching, they may not quite have the desired effect. Here are a few of my own favorites.

#5: Not Another Teen Movie. I was first a party to this one during Team Sunday, a weekly ritual in my fraternity house during which seven or eight people would all buck up to buy a bag of pot, smoke the whole thing together in one sitting, and watch something funny on TV, usually Adult Swim or something similar. As is the case with the Scary Movie films, and Epic Movie, and Date Movie, and whatever else, this film makes references to as many popular movies that fall into the category which it happens to be ripping on (in this case, teen movies), and does so in hilarious, ridiculous fashion.
Absolutely everything in this movie is exaggerated to the hilt, with a football coach who spouts the word 'goddammit' three times per sentence, an "ugly girl" who's actually just a really hot girl disguised beneath glasses and a ponytail, and a "token black guy" who literally kicks another black guy out of a party because he's supposed to be the only black guy there. My first time watching this movie saw me laughing more than I'd laughed in a good while. But I reiterate, this one especially needs an accompanying bag of weed, or else it might be a little over the top.

4: Pootie Tang. Welcome to the first time I saw Wanda Sykes that didn't make me want to shoot her in the face. This one was a real surprise, which my current roommates Ian and Dave popped in for me during college, before I'd moved in with them. It tells the story of a boy whose romantic exploits with women began at a very young age, as evidenced by the grown woman throwing his tricycle out of her window in a fit of emotion. Pootie Tang is somewhat of a real-life superhero, who walks among us and speaks his own language ("Baby, I'm gonna sine your pitty on the runny kine"), but serves as the ideal role model for kids for some reason, and kicks people's asses with his magical belt. The story is about how his love for skanks got him into quite a pickle, and he has to crawl his way back to popular credibility. Very funny, with lots of good catch phrases ("Wa-da-tah").
Again, do not watch this movie sober, or you'll probably fucking hate it.

3. Idiocracy. This one came out relatively recently, and I discovered it on Cinemax one evening at home. It's a Mike Judge movie, whose hilarious career has included Beavis & Butthead, King of the Hill and Office Space, all winners in my book. This film, which stars Luke Wilson and that stupid goddamn Maya Rudolph from SNL (whose presence was similar to Wanda Sykes in Pootie Tang - surprisingly tolerable) as two test subjects for an Army experiment. These two present-day saps are loaded up into cryogenic freezing pods for what was supposed to be a year, but due to an embarrassing pimping scandal, end up frozen for a full 500 years. And while they're frozen, human civilization becomes overwhelmed by rednecks and white trash who reproduce at frightening rates, driving down the average IQ further and further until, by the year 2505, the world is populated entirely by idiots.
This one has been on On Demand for a few weeks now, and I think I've been a party to it about ten times. Trust me, it's getting a little stale. But the first several times watching provided quite a bucketful of laughs, even though I wouldn't be surprised if the movie's predictions for our future were dead on. I heard that one of the most popular new names for American girls (this is no lie) is Nevaeh, which is the word "heaven" spelled backwards. If there are assholes doing that kind of shit today, then having names like Tylenol and Velveeta 500 years from now doesn't sound so far-fetched.
*Side note: Please join me in my quest to tell every Nevaeh I ever meet that their name is the dumbest thing I've ever heard.

2. Dirty Work. Norm Macdonald at his finest, and Artie Lange at his usual, in one of the funniest, most poorly-acted movies I know. These two are best friends, as they've been since they were kids, and they "don't take no crap from nobody," as central-character Pops remarks. They've always had clever ways of getting back at people for messing with them, and when Pops needs $50K for a heart transplant, they turn their vengeance skills into a business in order to save his life.
Shit, I just pretty much told you the whole movie. But look for Norm Macdonald's steel-toed wit to spruce up many an otherwise normal scene, especially his reaction to treatment from fellow prisoners during a brief visit to jail. And don't miss the hilarious screaming and sound effects during the fish-spreading scene.

1. Dumb and Dumber. You might have started reading this list and thought, "What a stupid article. I bet you he puts Dumb and Dumber as #1." Well, fuck you, you were right. But while this may be a common, almost cliched choice for tops in this category, I would argue first: Fuck you, I've never heard of a top 5 dumb movies list before, and second: This is almost too brilliant of a movie to even allow on this list. The only reason I'm letting myself get away with it is that the focus of the movie is on stupidity itself, making it that much more appropriate.
This movie helped to launch the career of one of Hollywood's biggest comedy stars in Jim Carrey, and I would imagine didn't hurt Jeff Daniels's career. Jim Carrey's character was maniacally funny in this film, if not one of the funniest in any movie. The movie produced an endless array of catch phrases, some of which I employ every single day of my life ("There ya go," or "Big Gulps, eh? All riiiight," come to mind). And it has been adequately accessible to me throughout my life, whether loving every minute of it as an 11-year-old, or doing the same now at 23.
For this quality, Dumb and Dumber lands among the greatest comedies of all time in my book, and certainly of the 1990's. Whether it can stand up to smarter comedies like The Big Lebowski, has yet to be debated here - but we'll save that for another day. For now, I have a whole day off today, so I'm off to enjoy it.