Random Esquire

I used a mandolin this weekend to slice something.  You know what I ended up slicing?  The tip of my thumb.  Not clean off or anything. Instead, I had a trashcan lid of flesh hanging off the end of my thumb.  I put band-aids on it.  And then I decided my thumb was lonely and I managed to slice open the tip of my middle finger. Worse than my thumb.  Again, I left a hanging chad.  Again, multiple band-aids.  Then, at some point, after it had stopped bleeding,  I decided to peek under the flap on my middle finger.  That was a mistake.  More band-aids.

I had to put clean sheets on my bed.  So I took the sheets out of the dryer and made the bed.  And my band-aid mysteriously disappeared during that process.  Didn’t find it.  More band-aids on finger.  This time made sure they couldn’t come off.

The next day – today – I realized that the band-aids had been on my middle finger for more than 24 hours.  Wet, dry, whatever.  I decided to peel them off.

No bleeding. That’s good.

And then…

I noticed a smell.

I brought my finger up to my nose and took a hesitant sniff.

holy.

crap.

Well, now, look, here’s the thing.  If you smell something bad, what’s the first thing you do?  You have someone else smell it, right?  Except, no one else was around.

Except Little Filthy.

Okay, now, lemme just explain what you’re about to see.  I had been relaying the unsavory nature of my rotting finger on twitter.  The result was many suggestions that I had gangrene.  However, I can tell it’s just wet-fleshy-open-wound-band-aid smell.  But none the less, I thought it would be funny to take a picture of the dog smelling my rotting finger.

No.  I have no idea why these things occur to me.  I can not explain it.  I realize it is ridiculous.

So I grabbed my camera phone, pointed it at my finger and then called Little Filthy.

He jumped up on the couch, leaned in and I snapped the picture.

And then I yelled out loud.

See, I intended for him to *smell* it.

But this is what happened right when I snapped the shutter.

(more…)

I come from a family in which everyone cooks.  While my mother prepares the dinner on Thanksgiving, on Christmas, everyone brings along additional food.  The result is that we have roughly 5 times the amount of food actually consumed.

This year, I was tasked with dessert.  I am more of a savory type (har har) but I gave it a whirl.  Result?  Banana bread pudding, chocolate sauce, fresh berries, dulce de leche ice cream, and a caramelized banana.  Picture below.

I hope you had a great dinner!

Torchin’ a banana.

Here’s my eye.

Here’s a piece of Toffifay candy.

Now you know.  Toffifay is made out of eyeballs.

Little Filthy has tried corn.  And peanut butter.  Today, he tried watermelon.

A sniff.

Give it to me, please.

Looks promising.

(more…)

I decided to indulge a little this morning.  This means I decided to eat a breakfast sandwich.  The ‘a little’ means it was on a whole grain english muffin, had turkey sausage, egg white and low fat cheese.

I can deal with this.  It tastes just fine to me.

But you know what ruined it very quickly?

That little bit of toenail you sometimes find in sausage.

GAH.

1.  My nose is running.  It sneaks up on me.  When my nose runs, it feels like my face wet its pants.

2.  The last time I was ill, I saw Besos only one or two times in three weeks because I tend to hole-up when I don’t feel well and am not really comfortable with someone taking care of me.  She more or less told me that that would not be acceptable this time and would I prefer she bring over soup or a break-up kick in the pants?

I chose the soup.

3.  I took pictures at Moto which are forthcoming.  At one point, Chef Cantu asked me, “Have you seen plasma in a microwave?”  I stared back.  He said, “Find a beaker!”  He rushed me to the microwave and propped the beaker upside down on three cups inside.  Then, he placed a bit of what he called plasma inside, under the beaker, within the small triangle of cups.  Mind you, I’d just eaten a bit of that white plasma in the form of a wick on a chocolate bomb that they actually set on fire (picture coming).  He closed the microwave and hit start.  The white bit flashed and flamed repeatedly and Chef Cantu said, “Hotter than the surface of the sun!”

4.  Besos arrived with soup.  She smiled and looked satisfied as I began to eat.  I glanced up and said, “Honey…I am a little self conscious because I have to chew with my mouth open because I can’t breathe through my nose.”

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1.  I returned from the Nassau / Paradise Island yesterday after a few days in which the Bahamas decided to experience a cold front.  Not much sun was had but it was still a tremendous amount of fun.  It was, more or less, a family event with adjoining rooms and lots of time with my niece and nephew.  It’s good to spend time with them and the more time I have, the less child-stupid I feel.  Let me give you an example of my child idocy.

The last time I visited my sister, I walked down a hall and into the bathroom and turned to close the door just in time for my niece to have followed me in, eyes watching me closely.  I said, “Uh…um…”  My sister called out from the other room, “Tell her you need P-R-I-V-A-C-Y.”  Me, being the idiot I am, looked at my niece and said, “I need P-R-I-V-A-C-Y.”  My sister said, “Don’t spell it for her!”  I said, “Oh!  I need some privacy.”  And my niece promptly left and informed me that she’d be waiting just outside I wrapped things up.

2.  I did an interview for a podcast on some of my experiences taking pictures in some Chicago restaurant kitchens, particularly L2O, as it coincided with Anthony Bourdain’s latest episode of No Reservations in which he dined in the restaurant.  (Filmed while the Seattle folks were here and despite our best efforts, Bev was not able to stalk him.)  I downloaded it on iTunes and, I have to say, it’s really strange to hear my voice like that.  I was particularly concerned that I’d have pulled a Will Shortz who, while doing a podcast, breathes so loudly into the phone, you want to knock him down and steal his inhaler.

3.  Tonight, Besos came over and I fixed dinner.  We have not had much time together in the last few weeks as I had a cold and suffer serious cold-transference guilt.   I will be happy to crawl into bed next to her tonight and reach for her.

4.  I effectuated a break up between QTMama and one of her boytoys.  At her bidding, mind you.  I’m somewhat tempted to start a service.  Everyone should have his or her lawyer do their breaking up for them.

5.  I’m feeling write-y.  Prepare for blog bombing.

1.  Last night, I tasted sushi made by reality TV folks:  Road Rules, Survivor, Shear Genius, Project Runway, and the Bachelorette.  I’m not going to lie to you.  None of it was all that good.  I left one on my plate that looked a bit as though the roll from which it’d been cut had been shot through one of those tubes at the bank drive-up.  The girl who won?  She was Playmate of the Month a few years ago.

It wasn’t a blind tasting, folks.

Amen.

2.  Besos reminded me today that I woke her up last night because she’d been gently snoring.  I grinned and said, “Ohhh yeah!”  I had forgotten about it.  She said, “Although, I find it funny that you grabbed my butt to wake me.”

I didn’t remember that, either, but congratulated my subconscious on its ability to take matters into its own hands.

3.  Speaking of Besos, she spent some time the other day explaining to me why Mexican women make good wives.  She was not petitioning me, mind you, but rather explaining the cultural differences between Mexican women and American women (not that American women make bad wives but you get my point).  While she is an American, Besos grew up in Mexico and she was careful to point that she is not a Chicana but, rather, a Mexican woman.  She ended by saying, “We stand by our man!”

I, naturally, and despite my dislike for country music, got excited to introduce her to something truly American and so I asked her if she’d ever heard that song.  She said no.  So I crooned, “Stttannnndd byyy yoouuurrrr maaaannnnn…and show the world you love him!” in my best Tammy Wynette.

I won’t lie.  She looked horrified.

4.  Besos told me that Little Filthy is basically me but in dog form.   I squinted.  She said, “You know…He doesn’t hide his feelings,…it’s like you…no smoke and mirrors.”  At this point, he was crawling all over her and sticking his cold nose in her ear and chomping on her hair as she lay in bed.  I said, “We could probably both use a little smoke and mirrors.”

She expanded her point to add that he misbehaves and is rotten but you can’t help but love him and he asks for affection and company whenever he wants it and…he humps things if he thinks they’ll be taken away.

I’m not entirely sure where the flattery ended and the insult began but it’s in there.  Somewhere.

I have tried to continue with that random act of kindness stuff.  So far, I’ve bought coffee or a bagel for the person ahead or behind me in a line.  I gave up on the idea of complimenting people randomly because I figured I’d come off as a weirdo whereas people are generally not too offended if you buy them a bagel.  It’s like the international symbol of peace.  Free bagel!  Free coffee!  And my other routine is to give my handwarmers to the same homeless woman I pass on the same corner as I walk to the office.  By that time, I’m only a few blocks from the office and they’re good for another couple of hours so it makes sense to give them away.  If she’s not there, I give them to a street cop or our doorman at the office.

Besos and I went out to eat the other night at a Vietnamese restaurant because she was craving Pho.  Four young men came into the restaurant and sat down at the table next to ours.  They grinned and pointed to things at the menu, curious and eager to try something new.  One of them caught my eye and asked what I was eating and then said it looked good.  They were polite to the Vietnamese woman who came to take their order, despite her clearly not fully understanding them as they ordered in a bit of disarray.  I watched them a bit.  Very young.  I liked that they seemed a friendly bunch.  I looked up at Besos and said, “Should I do a random act of kindness?”  She said, “I don’t know what you mean.”  I said, “I’m leaving it to you.”  She said, “Then I have to say yes.”  So I went up to the cashier and paid for their dinner. I hadn’t meant for her to say anything to them and Besos and I were preparing to leave but the server/cashier went to their table and told them I paid.  They looked up at me in surprise and thanked me.

Turns out they are all in the military.  For some reason, that just choked me up a little.  I don’t even know these young kids but my skeptic heart said a little prayer for them.

1.  I plan on getting the Blackberry Storm tomorrow despite the ridicule I will face from the iPhone gang (Lynchseattle, Bev, Avitania).  I fully admit to being just nerdy enough to have been reading the forums at crackberry.com.  It’s a problem.

One of the strange things cell phone technology addicts do when a phone comes out is to video themselves actually opening the box. Yes, that sounds odd.  It’s like the nerd equivalent of filming the birth of a child that you’ll be fascinated with for about 6 months before you look forward to the next one so you can ditch the one you currently have.

Vodaphone released the phone a week ago and this guy from the UK filmed his “unboxing”.  The great part is that he did it in front of his wife, who refused to help as he tried to unbox the thing one handed, holding the camera in the other hand.  As he struggles, he says, “Come on, open, you bastard!”  She yells, “Start again!” to which he barks, “SHUT IT!”

People crack me up.

2.  Sitcom and I attended Food and Wine Magazine’s annual Entertaining Showcase at Chicago’s Museum of Contemporary Art.  These events have a tendency to be over-impressed with themselves and stuffy.  This one, though, was really quite nice and put Chicago Gourmet to shame.  I dared Sitcom to throw up in the middle of the black high heals and wine glasses.  (No, I don’t know why – I just have a weird sense of humor sometimes.) She then got on a tangent about bulimic food tasters that had me practically crying from laughing.

3.  Walking to work yesterday, I disturbed myself by thinking about how well my eyes work together.  This came about when I imagined each of them as a camera lens taking pictures from two slightly different positions/angles and how well that picture merged into one.  It’s a little jacked up.