Random Esquire

1. I kind of get boxing. It’s sort of like two men just duking it out. With padded fists. And padding around their lower abdomen. Oh, and a bunch of rules on scoring. Whatever. And those cage matches – they get rid of a lot of the padding and rules. But how about getting rid of the ring and cage, too? I don’t just want to see a knock-down-drag-out, I want to see someone run and get chased. I mean, as long as we’re being sort of brutal about it, you know? I think I’d just like to see a boxer in a sprint instead of just dancing around. Okay, so maybe I don’t get boxing.

2. In law school, a bunch of my buddies threw a big party and got a Pay-per-view fight – Oscar De La Hoya. I think I’d pulled something close to an all nighter the night before. I drank too much and passed out. I ended up in my buddy’s bed upstairs and woke up to him walking in with a girl behind him. Cock block. Man, he never let me live that down. He did end up marrying the girl, though, so no harm done…at least, in the long run. That just made me think of another law school party where *cough* I drank too much, stumbled across the street to my place and tried to sober myself a bit with a cold shower. But I got tired of standing so I decided to turn it into a bath. Then I fell asleep in the tub and woke up to my girlfriend shaking me, thinking I would drown myself in the tub or had already done so. (She laughs about this now.) My first thought was, “Damn, this water is cold.”

3. I watched the HBO match last night between Yuriorkis Gamboa and Darling Jimenez. Yuriorkis is sort of a badass name and if I chose my boxers like I do my ponies, my money would be on him long before Darling. Seriously, man, Darling? Isn’t that the wife from Lady and the Tramp? I sort of remember that. (I bet Bev knows.) The dude who yells, “Let’s get ready to rumble” was introducing the fighters and he drew out their name dramatically. The result was that when he said, “Jimenez” it sounded like “He….Mayonnaise!” Damn, man, that’s seriously rough. Your name is Darling HeMayonnaise.

4 . Each time Gamboa would return to his corner, his trainer would pull out his mouth piece and then yell, “Stick out your tongue! Stick out your tongue!” in Spanish. Gamboa would stick it out and trainer would wipe it with a sponge. See, now that’s interesting to me. I hadn’t see that before, the tongue wiping. Maybe I should try that between weight machines at the gym. Gamboa had a Rocky-esque old scraggly dude for a cut man. After the fight someone hoisted Gamboa up on to his shoulders – like, Gamboa was sitting on his shoulders like a kid sits on his dad’s shoulders at Disneyworld. That’s a little jacked, right?  I get that it’s normal in the boxing world but when was the last time you saw two adult men do this?  Subculture, man. I dig it.

5. I’m signing off to catch a plane to Paris. Plush has control while I’m out. Don’t invite friends over, don’t leave the lights on and don’t touch the thermostat.

-R.

Have this guy provide the baked goods…that look like body parts. 

QTMama wrote an entry here about how she likes an Irish accent.  Specifically, she likes to hear it out of the mouth of a certain Irish gentleman she’s seeing.

I don’t get it.

Well, not entirely.   I admit that I dated a girl from Puerto Rico whose primary language was Spanish – but she didn’t have much of an accent.  And it certainly didn’t boil me but, it was charming enough.  I guess.  Maybe.  Honestly, I can’t remember.  But in almost all of my relationships, I’ve been the more multi-cultured of the pair and I do not have an accent.  Unless a slight Chicago accent counts.  And let’s face it, no one is dropping their britches over a Chicago accent.

Plush told me that if she spoke to me in another language or with an accent, it would be completely wasted on me.  She knows, however, that I tend to like a little high-maintenance and crabbiness in mah womenz.

She said, “Now, if I speak cranky to you…”

I yelled, “YES!”

I mean, there is seriously something wrong with me.

1. I was invited to a cocktail party at the Chicago Opera House tomorrow night – to the 2008 Gala of the Alliance Francaise de Chicago, in support of this non-profit organization that promotes film, music, theater, literature, cooking and all things l’art de vivre. Providing food and drink at the dinner will be The Ritz Paris, L’Ecole Ritz Escoffier, Colin Field & the Hemingway Bar, and Djordje Varda & l’Atelier Floral du Ritz. I have not yet decided if I will attend but if I do, it will be to people watch as the National Restaurant Association gathering is here in Chicago this weekend and there will surely be some notables about.

2. I have spent much of the past week concentrating on finalizing work issues and packing for my trip. In the upcoming weeks, I will go to France, Switzerland, Austria, Germany and Italy. I am looking forward to a bit of adventure and, of course, a bit of trouble. This will be the longest vacation I have ever taken and the first I have taken alone in many years. It is…thrilling.

3. I have a very nice next door neighbor. Last summer, she gave me a potted geranium for my patio. I suspect this may have been because her patio was an array of many colored geraniums and mine looks positively dreadful next to it. My only decoration is a grill. I might plant some fresh herbs this year. But really, I can’t be bothered much with plants or flowers. I don’t get it. Tonight, she knocked on my door and gave me a very nice fold out chair for my patio. She said she had three and simply didn’t have the room. This means I will be able to work, reclined out in the sunshine, with my laptop. I will be sure to find her something nice while I am traveling.

4. The reigns to the blog will be handed over to Plush while I am away. I imagine that with the multitude of internet cafes, I may post something but I haven’t decided if this should also be a vacation away from even this, my favorite hobby. I had no reservations about turning things over to Plush but after a few reassurances from her that she would not do certain things…then I began to think about it. But, I simply do not care. I trust her and hope she scandalizes you all.

After weeks of cajoling, Instigator agreed to go a guest entry.  Enjoy! -R

* * * * * * * * *   By Instigator * * * * * * * * *

I believe the genesis of almost every great friendship can be traced back to a single moment.  A pinpoint in time when you heard the ‘ding ding ding’ in your head and realized you, and your theretofore acquaintance, were going to become great friends.  So there was this new kid at work, and after a few weeks of a welcome lunch here, a watercooler chat there, I was somewhat intrigued but not certain whether this Randomesq was true work friend material.  When we were both invited to a wedding by the office know it all (Iknow!), I looked at it as a possible opportunity to get to know RE better.  Plus, my main motivation was I wanted to meet Boss.  But first I needed to find out if RE was in, so I commenced to ichat.

Me: Hey, so did “I Know” invite you to her wedding?

RE: Yeah, I did get the invitation the other day.

Me: So, uh, have to decided, are you and Boss going??

<pause>

RE: To tell you the truth, we don’t really like weddings. We are funny that way.  So I don’t think we are going to go. You?

<pause>

Me: I don’t think I’m going either. Honestly I thought it was weird she invited me.

RE: I thought it was a little weird too.

Me: Because we’re not friends.  I’ve never even had lunch with her.  Why would she want me to go to her wedding? I wouldn’t invite her to my wedding.

RE:  I thought the exact same thing.  Doesn’t she have any real friends?

Everyone is free to plan the wedding they have always dreamed of.  But personally, I would have never thought of inviting a bunch of miscellaneous coworkers that I had never so much as had coffee with to witness my marriage.  And in that moment, when I knew RE was thinking the very same thing, I believe we both realized we would be fast friends.   In hindsight, I wish we had gone.  We missed the rare opportunity to see Fresh Express in her more formal attire.  She too was invited, and attended with her sister as her date.  One can only imagine the wealth of strangeness that we would have witnessed.   As a wedding gift, Fresh Express told me she purchased a salad spinner.  Is that too perfect or what??

1. I did not have lunch with Instigator today. This is because she is on a task-force of sorts to handle deals worth a lot of scratch. Suspiciously sounding like an honor, it is actually more of a burden which we refer to as a “big fuckin’ deal” – much like one might say “who the fuck cares.” We have an understanding. If either of us is busy and the other walks into our office, we simply give that look that says, “Get out” and the other doesn’t take it personally. Today was my day to not take it personally because Instigator was up to her neck in some big fuckin’ deal. Bah!

2. My sister sometimes says things that strike me as ridiculous. She was watching me change my niece’s diaper to make sure I was doing it right. I sprinkled some powder and my sister said, “You’re salt and peppering the baby.” Is it just me or does that strike anyone else as offensively funny in a way? Then, there was the time she said she would show her children the movie Mystic River as a cautionary tale against running away by telling them, “That’s what happens to kids who run away.” The other day, she was talking about my niece and potty training and said something like, “Getting her off of diapers is like pulling her from a line of coke.” Dude. That’s just wrong.

3. I took a sleep-aid 90 minutes ago. This is because I am trying to go to bed earlier to reset my clock before I head overseas. I typically go to bed around 1 in the morning. Bad. It is now 10 p.m. and I am still wide awake. Dumb pills. Maybe I didn’t wash them down with enough whiskey chaser.

4. I have not yet told Little Filthy that he will be staying at Chez Parents while I am gone. He…has a bit of a reputation staying with them. Sort of like a rock star at a hotel. There was the time he baked a potato on my mother’s expensive oriental rug – which my pregnant sister discovered. With her foot. Or the time he ate my father’s ear plugs…which I discovered when he returned home and promptly pooped them out…all told in a nice little picture story here.

5. I, stupidly, taught Little Filthy how to lick on command. I say, “Kiss. Do it!” in my certified broken, third half-ass language and he will run up and give my cheek a lick, after which he is rewarded with a small treat. Unfortunately, Little Filthy does not associate his obeying the command with a treat so much as the actual licking. And so if he decides he wants a treat, he’ll just lick the shit out of me. *sigh*

I took my dad to the Diana Ross concert. Unintentionally, mind you. I won’t go into the awkwardness of sitting next to my dad while Diana Ross sang Touch Me In the Morning.

Then there was the time I went to the Oprah show with my mother. Boss requested the tickets using my name. We got the tickets…only neither Boss nor her mother could go.

And now…it seems I will be taking my mother to see Tina Turner in October.

October of last year was a really, really difficult time for my family. My mother in particular. I will not get into particulars but suffice to say that it will be a difficult October this year, as we recall the events of 2007. The events permanently changed relationships in my family and, for my mother and myself, improved them. I don’t suppose I fully appreciated the sacrifices and hard work that go into being a mother until my sister had children and yesterday provided a fair amount of time for me to reflect on my own mother and her sacrifices. It has become important to me to make sure that my mother does more of the things she enjoys and to make sure those things happen while she can enjoy them to the fullest. And you know what? She likes Tina Turner.

And so I think she should go. So I called her this morning and told her to put it on her calendar because I just got tickets. She was out walking with friends and I could hear her tell them, excitedly. So, yeah, I’m taking my mother to see Tina Turner.

heh. I’m a dork.

You may know that I take issue with a Smucker’s commercial for their use of a kid named Dick Smucker.  I take issue with two Jif commercials, too.

But first – it sort of bugs me that all these commercials feature open face peanut butter sandwiches to show off the product but, in reality, no parent is going to give their kid a sandwich with an entire exposed side of peanut butter.  Well, at least, they won’t do it twice.  Here are the ads that bug me:

1.  One slice of bread left, two kids.  They both want peanut butter on bread.  Mom spreads peanut butter on said lone slice of bread, which the kids will share.  The mom tells kid #1, “You cut.”  Kid #1 cuts.  She says that kid #2 gets to choose which ‘half’ he wants.

Dude, oldest trick in the book, right?  Only, the reason it works is because the kid doing the cutting knows that the other kid gets to choose which piece he wants.  The problem in the commercial is that the kid cuts the bread first and then the mom says that the other kid gets to choose.  This bugs me.

2.  Grandpa is making an open face peanut butter sandwich for his granddaughter.   He calls it a work of art.  He carves a J into the peanut butter and says, “J for JoAnna!”  Then he cuts it in half and says, “Incredible!  Not just one masterpiece…but two!”  The kid smirks – Grandpa jokes suck on television, too.  Then he says, “Now…who can I share this with?”

Dude, you just freakin’ carved her initials into the sandwich.  It’s her sandwich now, old man.  Back off.

Hmm.  I might have a little cranky grandpa thing going on here myself.  Bah!

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there! May you have a wonderful day as you deserve.

Sincerely,

-R.

I was reading Schokolade Madchen’s blog and she did and entry on how she’s making foods she ate as a child for her German born husband.  So far, he’s impressed with macaroni and cheese but not so much impressed with green bean casserole.  The man clearly has good taste.

This made me think of what foods I loved as a kid.  For better or for worse, I ate anything as a kid.  I still do, generally speaking.  I admit, I love meatloaf – but with barbecue sauce, not ketchup.  And if I make it, I have to eat it with scalloped potatoes and green beans because that’s how I remember it.  I dig maple and brown sugar malt-o-meal, too.  (Another food she’s making for her husband.)  I do not miss eating goulash at all.  Does anyone love this stuff?

Hmmm…I do remember taking vanilla ice cream and mixing in peanut butter and Nestle’s Quik like some mad scientist.   Of course, I also mixed together all the shampoo and conditioner pretending that my bathtub was a laboratory.  I didn’t eat that, though.

This reminds me of the time I flushed an apple down the toilet.  I had taken a bite and decided I didn’t like it.  So I flushed it.  Then I promptly tried another apple.  It sucked, too.  So I flushed that.  I have vague memories of my father eyeballing me from across the bathroom as he snaked the toilet and apples pieces came bobbing up to the surface.  To this day, I still can’t stand Jonathan apples.  Those things taste like dust to me.

What’re your favorite childhood foods?  And did you ever do something with your food that got you into trouble?