This is my Word Cannon

The Keg rationing Incident; A reflection on life

2006-05-16T09:11:00.000-07:00

It was much too early to go to the party. Peter and I were hungry anyway. So driving through the fallen snow we pulled over and plunged our moderately priced champagne in a snow drift. Marking the spot on the side of the road with a coke bottle. No one likes warm chapagne.
We then drove down the street to the Every Day Diner. Drinking cofee and sharing food was our prefered passtime in Hyde Park New York, and normally we'd have speant all of that friday night and some of saturday morning sitting in that booth savouring our bottomless cups. Tonight was different though. Tonight there was a party.
We later retrieved our nicely chilled bottles, and found our way to mike and ryan's place. Made a grand cork popping entrance and doned our Togas. Mine an uber tacky snakesking pattern and his merely the texas flag draped 'round his waist, the cowboy hat wat a nice touch as well.
I only remember a little of what happened that night. I remember Drunkenly dancing with a girl who, whispered in my ear that I was cute, and that she often cheated on her boyfriend. Her boyfriend was nicknamed shithead by my friends and I and was at the moment turning the color of poison ivy in the corner, red for rage and green for envy.
I also remember Allen Morgan and a group of hangers on taking the last keg hostage, and rationing it to desperate partygoers. I wonder how many hang overs they worsened by making people cut their beer with mountain dew.
I still have the picture of Dana, the pretty black girl with dreadlocks sitting on my lad as I brandished my nearly empty bottle of champagne. Dana, one of the few friends I still keep in touch with and try to visit on occaision.
I remember the jealous boyfriend slapping the back of my head in revenge as I sat on the couch. But I savor the memory of laughing at him and backing him into the wall for it.
I also remember when the party ended. Suddenly turning around and seeing a cop who shouted, "If you've been drinking please do not try to drive!", and then the mad booze fueled rush for the door. Jumping in my car with 5 or 6 random drunks and Peter. I remember the realization that there was no way I was getting that car home, handing the keys to an unbelievably sober Peter.

That was one of the good days way back when. How can I hold on to so many good memories but still look back at the whole and feel so disappointed with myself. I don't get why it's such a sad life with so many happy parts.

Why can't I look back and feel happy?

Why can't I look ahead and be excited?

Fantasy League update:

2006-05-04T10:42:00.000-07:00

I was recently offered a trade.
MY:
Ken Griffey Jr. (DL)
Mike Mussina
Javey Lopez

FOR:
Barry Bonds
Mike Lowel
Jason Schmidt

I declined, and Countered with an offer for HIS:

Mike Lowel
Curt Schilling
FOR:
Javey Lopez
John Smoltz
Ken Griffey Jr(DL)

Dilema:

2006-04-28T21:47:00.000-07:00

So, I would generally consider my boss a friend both at, and out of work. Not only do I pal around with him at work, but at the end of the night I often find myself at the bar with himself and his girlfriend. His girl, also works at our restaurant as a server. I consider her a friend by the same standards listed above.
However, despite the fact they both know I have a girlfriend of my own, whom I now reside with, the boss man thinks I am trying to get in bed with his girl (I am not, for the record). Now, he won't say shit to me but he often tells her (while I am not around) not to talk to me because she wants to fuck me. So she tells me I can't talk to her anymore because of this.
So I am left feeling more or less like he called me an ass hole or worse. Never have I tried to get with a friends girl. Nor would I. So I am wondering which if any course of action should I take?
A) Call him on it.
B) Tell him that since he's being a Douchebag I may try to screw her to prove a point. (What point, I dunno but I think it would be interesting to tell a guy I am gonna try and fuck his girlfriend)
C) Tell them both to get lost and leave me out of there disfunctional (Read annoying over dramatic) relationship.
D) Ignore the whole damn reoccurring situation.

We're in.

2006-04-24T15:11:00.000-07:00

So, I'm finally all settled in to the new place. Just a few more odds and ends to piece together, and the girl will have no more asinine chores for me (Yeah right).
And living with her is becoming interesting as well. Pleanty of ups and downs, Pro's and Con's, Bright sides and Other sides. Such as;
+ Somone to hold be accountable for not letting the place fall into a stye like condition.
- Somone always making me do stuff when I am sure I'd be much happier letting my own brand of lethargy reign supreme.
+ If I were here on my own, I'm not sure I would have had the self motivation to have ever finished unpacking. Just think, right now if it weren't for girlfriend, I would probably be sitting on a dirty milk crate writing this on a napkin with a crayon, so that I could transpose it to the computer once I go to school.
- I'm not allowed to keep dirty milk crates around because they are apparently "unsightly" and "Disgusting" despite being and excellent and traditional method of storing/displaying your possessions as a college student.
+ Girlfriend keeps the new place very clean and orderly, which I like. It is quite the luxury for me to be able to leave somthing on the floor for a few minutes without having to run it through the wash six times before using it again in good concious.
- If I ever choose to do somthing other than clean, put things away, or otherwise be "productive" while girlfriend is cleaning, I am the guilted into stabbing my own eyes out with an old piece of styrofoam as pennance for being a horrible, undeserving roomate/boyfriend.
+ It's nice not going to bed alone everynight.
- The kittens are not allowed in bed because they disturb her in her sleep with their incessant walking around and pitter pattering.

I could go on, but right now I thin I have to go clean somthing because I am probably in the Dog house for some reason or another.

When the hell did I get married?>

ahk

2006-04-13T10:35:00.000-07:00

I'm really bored today.
I feel like there is somthing better I ought to be doing. Somthing more important than sitting around waiting for my next class.
The move starts tommorrow, and I'm only mostly ready for it. It makes me antsy.
I'm very tired and jittery. Probably the result of not sleeping or eating enough, and drinking cofee to compensate.

I feel like playing and not being productive. I wanna giggle and run and laugh and not care. I think I wanna be seven years old again, for a while.

The old Stickball injury

2006-04-12T09:43:00.000-07:00

So last night, as I had finished packing up the kitchen, I noticed a rather peculiar sensation in my stomach. I was quite hungry. So I went through the speed dial, looking for a friend, somone to come out to eat with me. The closest I came was when I called Mike, who offered me a sandwhich if I came over and drank with him and the roomate. Stomach grumbling I obliged. But when I got there, the plan changed. We were actually invited to go paint at The PC studios. We had no canvas, so instead we brought an old canoe paddle the guys found, and two nalgenes of white russians. After an hour or so of painting and giggling, we finished our joint masterpiece, and the real art students seemed either impressed, or sympathetic toward our feeble attempt at artsiness. So then, we took our new "Art" and went to go play stickball. We Hijacked the new softball field and let rip. On my second time up, I swung at a low ball, and solidly connected with the ground (It is suprisingly hard to judge the reach of water sport equipment) and subsiquently dislocated my shoulder AGAIN.
So after a few more turns at batting, and some serious splintering of our "art" we found a football in the grass, and played football. My muscle memory is all but gone. Quite sad to realize that i can now longer run all out, and use my upper body for another purpose at the same time. I can still make diving cathses and one handers though, which is what really counts.

And the final countdown has begun...

2006-04-10T10:00:00.000-07:00

Friday I get the keys to my new apartment. Friday, My girlfriend had brow beaten me into spending money on paint, and various other items of negotiable necessity. Friday I will beging cleaning, painting and shuttling my possesions to my new digs.

I have finally had enough of my old landlord. He has once again begun remodeling the front of the house (A long weekend project that has been going on for over a year now). Part of the project involved the removal of the front stairs. So last friday I called him as a reminder that i was moving out on the 15th, and that I would in fact need those stairs to get my stuff out. All I recieved was a "Well, we'll see if it works out for you... I'm not gonna rush these guys. I want this done right".

This is the straw that broke my back. This on top of my non-existant smoke detectors, illegal third floor apt above mine and the split utilities I share with said apartment, and many, many other grievances. So I am going to talk to my old boss, the Real Estate Lawyer, and see if I can't coax him into writing a letter to my landlord as my attourney.

Other than this, things are going pretty well. I got rad stuff from mom and dad for the new apartment. Two awesome pots that belonged to my grandmother who recieved them from her other who brought them over from Italy way back in the day, plus grandma's old silver. Nice stuff. PLus I have the option of taking a perfectly good wall unit off the rents hands. Just need to convince the girl it's necessary, and I think I was offered the China my mom got for her wedding.
BUT
The lil bro stole all my backpacking gear. My pack, which I have lovingly toted over many miles and mountains, faithful companion of mine. My sleeping bag, which is the secong of which he has stolen and more than likely defacated in. My new tent, which I myself have only used once, now peobably has it's parts (irreplacable parts) scattered all over the new hampshire back country . My beloved cookstove, small enough to fit in my shirt pocket, but can still boil a gallon of water as fast as the stove at home, gone as well as is my trusty mess kit, with rustic place settings for four in the size of a cantine. Total value of stolen items.. estimated at..... at least $600.00 assuming I havent missed even more of my expensive equipment.

Much better than yesterday, hopefullu not as good as tommorrow

2006-04-06T09:41:00.000-07:00

I know it's probably what he planned. I was just too bored with everything going on not to fall into it. The other day he said that what we were doing was not college, it wasn't even middle school. I couldn't help but smile, because to me this was no insult. Merely a confirmation of the great waste I decided this "University" is. I transfered here with I think a 3.68 GPA from a much more challenging school. (Anyone who doesn't think Culinary school is hard, just try reading "On food and Cooking"). Since I've arrived here, My GPA has been falling steadily by about one tenth of a point every trimester. In the beggining I attributed it to not being used to academics anymore, but recently I have discovered it isn't that at all. Nor is it my aversion to traditional studies. It's the fact that Professor Merluzzo was right. This really isn't even middle school. I don't study or put forth effort here, simply because Johnson & Wales is less challenging that my Middle school. Merely by showing up and being a warm body, I can pass pretty much any class I have taken here.
Case in point, Last year I had to take a survey of college math course, three weeks before the final I realized it would be numerically impossible for me to fail the class unless I was dropped for attendance. I am horrible at math. I barely got through my highschool classes.
What the hell am I doing here? Now that I am so close to graduating, I really wonder why I put up with this so long.
************************************************************************************

I feel good today. In a familiar way. At first I couldn't figure out why. A certain giddy excitment in the pit of my stomach has been chasing me all morning. During class, I figured it out. I remember going to shows when I was in Highschool. Getting ready to go out. Appearance was everything especially in a subset of individuals who scorned fashion and trend as much as my peers did. Digging my biggest pair of pants out of the laundry, my raunchiest shirt, and adding an extra pint of gel to my hair got me ready to go to a church basement or failing club and go see a show. It's that feeling again. I don't know why.
Fists clenched, wrists toward the sky. Bounce side to side and wait for the breakdown.
Head down flailing my arms, diving into a pile of flesh and dig for the mic the band threw in the pit.
filthy, broken, exahsted and brilliantly weightless by nights end.

2006-04-04T10:21:00.000-07:00

I had a dream last night.
I moved into the new apartment, except there was no roof over anything but the bedroom and bathroom. Quite convieniently, a tornado was on the way. So a big Tarp[ appeared like a tent over my exposed dwelling. I had assumed it was my father and uncle's work, but they assumed it was mine, then it started raining.

I reserved a Uhaul for the move date. Now I just have to get the time off work. Although I told Steve (Scheduale making boss) about two months ago, several times, he has still pretty much demanded my attendance at work. But Paulo (Kitchen manager boss) will probably help me out.
If all else fails, I'll just walk out, I'm real touch and go with this job now. I've been trying to talk to Jim (Owner boss) about getting me more money, but he always seems to be cinvieniently not around or in a bad mood when I wanna talk to him.

Too much BS lately. I need a break, a vacation an escape. But there is nowhere to go, just back to work, back to class, back to bed. Life goes on.

Apparently my English professor is stalking me... err found this online by "accident"

2006-04-03T10:34:00.000-07:00

For those who have worked in kitchens, it is common knowledge that rags, side towels, had towels or whatever you may call them are valued like gold. They perform two baisic functions, to allow us to pick up hot things, and wipe off dirty things. BOth are tasks of immersurable necessity in a professional kitchen. So, toward the end of the week, the supply of towels runs low.
Now, I was working last night with a guy named Omar. In general, Omar is a good guy, but can often consider himself the "Alpha male cook". This causes him to get more than a little pushy when it comes to the unspoken laws of kitchen ettiguette. Last night, this was used against him.
Having no extra towels in the kitchen, we scrounged up what we could find, a towel or two each, and went to work. It would've been fine, but he kept stealing my towels. In return I kept taking them back. This, he apparently saw as me stealing his towels.
Finally, Omar went to the laundry bin, grabbed all the usable towels, and all the towels being used on the line, threw them in a pile and said, "Nobody touch mu fucking towels."
He was staring at me.
So, being more than mildly pissed off, I went downstairs to my secret stash (Yes, I have a secret stash of towels, LIKE GOLD i told you.) and grabbed a handful. I brought them upstairs, and put them out where everyone could see them, bright white fresh new towels. Quite seperate from Omar's private collection of dirty dingy rags.
I didn't need to tell him not to touch my fucking towels.

Today I am a bit disappointed to be me.

2006-03-30T09:01:00.000-08:00

Since starting my new job at ristorante Pizzico, my bank account has fallen to half of what it was when I left my old job. This means, that not only am I unable to save any money, but I have had to rely on my savings to get by. I am still fairly comfortable, my belt isn't that tight yet. This isn't the direction I had in mind though. I'm moving in with my girlfriend in two weeks. WTF?

Scatter brain

2006-03-27T09:40:00.000-08:00

Monday. My head aches. I can't stop yawning while the Presidents of the United States of America remix "Video killed the radio star" on my latest MP3 playing impulse buy. My still wounded finger, wrapped in athletic tape and gauze still smells strongly of cumin from my roast chicken last night. I want to fight my boss, because again he's messing with important things of mine. School sucks.
I got very excited because I thought somone posted on my last entry, but it was just an ad. Is anyone reding this anymore? Oh well I don't care.

So my cousin Joey and his girlfriend came over last night for a kind of last minute pot luck dinner adventure. I thawed a whole chicken and gave it a good rub down with my special chicken rub and stuffed it with garlic, onions and carrots and let the sucker roast.
The company brought green beans almondine, baked potatoes and a quite tasty chocolate cake.
So over dinner and a bottle of wine we chatted.
I might at this point mention that both Joey and Kristen and Brown Grad students. Very academic, sciency types. So, everytime they asked me somthing about food, I felt compelled to give them an academic sciency answer. (I know lots of sciency food stuff; all kinds of protied denaturing and whatnot) Unfortunately, I still felt a step or two behind in all the sciency conversation. BUT they are my only friends who will come over for dinner. At least the only ones who I will ask, and in return they will consent.

Boss man Steve came into the kitchen saturday night. Informed us that he wasn't sure weather or not it would be busy during Easter, but that we should all count on working anyway.
I then reminded Steve that I had asked him months earlier for the time off beause I am moving that weekend.
"You work in a restaurant, you work on Easter!"
"I'm moving that weekend"
"Bullshit, you are not moving you are working"
"But I AM moving that weekend"
"YOU are working"
we'll see Steve'O', we'll see who is working. (not me, sucker)
I don't get enough hours, or enough money working at Pizzico to worry about this. If I'm on the scheduale, I'll no-show, and if anybody says anything, I'll invite them to my moving in party, because I spent all weekend moving. If they still want to pester me, they can replace me.

I stopped taking the vicodin and ibuprofin they gave me at the emergency room. My finger hurts more as a result, but at least I don't feel stoned all the time. It's kinda weird, while I was on the stuff, I didn't really feel high or anything, but as I came off it, I realized what a space cadet I had been the past few days. I thik I am also having withdrawl headaches. Unpleasant.

I was quite mad that girlfriend for a few days last week. So mad that I decided to go blow some cash. The strange part, is that it wasn't some deeply set device in my mind that was triggered. No subliminal message that told me "Spending your money will make you feel better!". I simply relized I was pissed off, so I said to myself, "Self, go throw around some of that paycheck!" And now I have a new SONY network walkman. About the size of 6 or eight silver dollars stacked vertically it has half a gig of space, and coincidentally trimmed in my favorite color, lime green.

what a waste

2006-03-22T07:52:00.000-08:00

One by one we file through the heavy doors of what was once a manufacturing plant. The cups reead "Cafe le france", "Honey Dew", "Tazza", "Starbucks", "Dunk'n donuts". Some even have starchy white bags, half full of cholestorol, trans fat and sugar. With a healthy dose of caffine this is what gets us through. And as the stairs fall behind me in my daily ascent, so do they. but the time I get to the fourth floor, I am the only one through the door, stumbling down the hall in my pre noontime oblivion. A few more in the desks around mine, but i don't pay attention. Sipping on my "just regular damn cofee please" with two sugars.
Then I find out he's not comming. It was all for nothing.
I rolled over hit the snooze with fury, falling instantly back into dream. minutes later I hit it again , making a futil attempt to sit up straight. For the third time i struck the clock with great force, this time making myself crawl to the coldest, most uncomfortable part of my bed, where again unconciousness takes over. Not untill my great panther of a housecat pounced on my unsuspecting bare back did i finally stuggle out of bed. I stared into my closet for a good three minutes trying to figure out what I was supposed to do with these injtricately woven pieces of cloth...... "Clothes! Eurika!... They're clothes and by geoorge I've got to get dressed!"
So i go throught he rest of my morning routine, struggle down the freezing hill to the bus stop, BARK at my regular Barista because I'm running late and I need my caffin and a scone damn it! and push myself to the fourth floor of the Taco Center, only to discover that professor Paul Merluzzo is not comming.

Free Vicodin at the Emergency room!

2006-03-20T09:44:00.000-08:00

"FUCKING *&^$e*SONOFA &^(BITCH FUCKING! (^%MOTHERFUCK!"
tHS WAS THE STRING OF {Manly?} explitives that exploded from my mouth at around 8:30 saturday night. At least that's what I heard. Others may have heard girlish screaming and high pitched squealing. Which actually happened, who can say really?
So as i ran around the busy kitchen bleeding prufusely, looking for both the missing portion of my finger, and something, ANYTHING to stop the bleeding, I was quite astonished at the lack of immediate pain. Merely pissed off at the inconvienience of losing an apendage during the middle of the dinner rush, my adrenaline was carrying me to and fro as one of my bosses {somwhat} calmly went for the brand new med kit {Owner bought it that morning} and started pulling out gauze.
When I asked a server to help me tape up the gauze around my finger, as tight as he could, I first made the connection. As he pinched the spot where my fingernail should have been the second worst pain I have ever endured passed straight through my finger into the deepest recess of my soul. I hadn't just done something stupid, I really hurt myself.
Once I slowed {not stopped} the bleeding I jusmped back on the line. The section of latex glove enclosing the wound slowly bagan to fill with blood. seeping through an entire roll of gauze, band aids, and medicle tape. Finally, I was urged to go to the hospital.
Having avulsed a fingernail in the same way before, and going to the hospital only to be put through a huge amount of pain so that a doctor could tell me he really couldnt do anything, I really ddint want to go.
I went. They washed it, soaked it, examined it, bandaged it, and gave me meds {Emergency rooms will give you a prescription of vicodin for ANYTHING}. They also gave me a work order. Fore those who are not familiar, a work order is a piece of paper that says you cannot return to work untill such and such a date. I have to make an appointment with an occupational therapist, and when they clear me, I can go back to work. WTF?!?! I can't work? I have bills to pay! Normally I would blow it off and just go back to work. However, since this is all documented, if i go back to work before being cleared, then no insurance will cover me for anything else.
i.e.
If a gas line explodes and takes off my legs, I get no medical coverage, no disability check, nothing.

And I don't think the boss is gonna want to put me on disability now for a cut on my finger.
Fucker, so now what am i supposed to do? Open a lemonade stand on the side of the road? Get an empty cofee can and beg for change? Prostitute myself to fat women? Ask mom and dad for help? None of the above are acceptable. Gotta go talk to the boss man. Maybe I can run food or somthing.

Does anyone know if my inger ended up on the florr or in the basil I was cutting?

WARNING! By reading this you are agreeing not to tell my roomate or landlord.

2006-03-15T09:31:00.000-08:00

So before work yesterday I rushed off to PETCO (where the pets go). I picked up some mice for snake. So, I rushed home thawed the mice, and dropped them in snakes tank then left for work.

I came home arounf midnightish, and looked in the tank. all 4 mices were still there. So, as I sometimes do, i moved around snakes furnature to try and get him to move around and find his mice. (Snake I think, is not naturally a very good hunter). I didnt see Snake. So I pulled out ALL the furnature. I dug through the wood chips at the bottom of the tank. and STILL no snake.

I have therefore come to a conclusion. Either snake was vaporized by an intergalactic anti rodent predator Lazer ray gun, Or he escaped. I am going to go with the ray gun theory only because the mesh lid on the tank was still in place, and I have seen snake try unsuccessfully to remove it himself.

I just hope that roomate doesnt come home from he business trip to find snake on her bed. That would be trouble. It would also be trouble if the kitties were to find him before I do. So much Trouble.

So beautiful I might have done it on purpose

2006-03-14T10:36:00.000-08:00

I was driviing home last night. 11:30 or so. Right in the middle of the big thunder storm. I love thunder storms. The fog was thick, and even though I was the only one on the road, I didn't dare break 65. I really wanted to listen to some deftones, but apparently that disc isnt in my car anymore. So I put in a CD I listened to allot when I was in NY. 495 was dark. Like that inky black, darker than dark you hear about sometimes. Nothing looked quite right. I knew I was heading to Providence, except I felt like I was on my way to NY. Stupid, probably. Oh well.

I guess I'm the only one here now...

2006-03-09T09:43:00.000-08:00

So last night the girl and I dropped off the rental application for the red new place. Two bedrooms (one will be an officy thing), double parlor, dinning room/loungy thing and a livingroom. A kitchen and biiiig pantry. Garage parking for two, my car and bicyclle, cuz the girl has neither. And nice storage place in the basement, which will hopefully become my personal gym. All hardwood floors, which scares me so i'll need to buy more rugs. No washer/Dryer yet, but I guess the landlord is looking for one.
Free pizza and beer (or soda) for anyone who wants to help me move.

And I am officially announcing this now;
Big move in party after we're settled. I plan on taking $100.00 to Trader Joe's and comoing home with 20 bottles of wine. Plus beer and whatever else, and inviting everyone I know in town, and some other people too. So please come and make me feel like people like me. please.

God I'm tired.

One foot in and one foot missing

2006-03-08T09:45:00.000-08:00

The oven burned me, and I smiled last night. It was the first time in a long time, but looking at my arms you'd never believe it. When I was done I tried to go settle some business, but ended up at the bar. The answer to my problem is at the bottom of this bottle. It's just got to be, and if it isn't, then most certainly the next one. Or the next.
Tommorrow I'll wake up feeling shitty again, get dressed and walk out the door with my cofee in hand. I'll do it all again.
**************************************************************************************

The head of the Entreprenuership department at my school just informed me that "Sebastians" is very interested in recruiting food service Entreprenuership Majors right now. Sebastians is an off shoot from Fidelity Insurance. They do Catering.
The story is that they are about to take this company national, and they want managers who can both relate to the technical aspects of the business (the actual food thing) and the business aspect as well.
So the head of the department thought of me and one other guy who I don't know. So, do I wanna go corporate, possibly make lots of money? Not really be a cook anymore? I dunno. I like food. I guess we'll wait and see.

Next step; world domination

2006-03-06T20:46:00.000-08:00

The girl and I found a new apartment today. Bigger than my current place of residence, and i dare say a bit nicer as well. So assuming the renatl application goes through, and i can deal with my lease ending here in appropriate fashion, then all should be well. Actually, the boss man and his lady are very interested in taking over my palce. Which is rad. I just don't wanna move my liquor cabinet again. It's probbly the heaiest piece of furnature I have ever dealt with in my life.
But I do get to have a moving in party once it' done. lotta wine. Some beer. A mixed drink or two, maybe a shot here or there. Good times.

Work is getting better too. I'm only wasting about half my time making salads now. Soon, I suspect it will be even less than that. Especially since Owner Man's brother (Kind of chef-esque guy?) is moving to Georgia soon.

Class starts up again tomorrow. I am actually quite depressed about it. I really think I smile and laugh about 200% more when I don't have to go to school. I also think I am abou 50% more productive too. The apartment is actually clean, The frocery shopping i done, AND I have been eating real food. Nothing frozen in over a week. I had time to work more, and therefore am picking up a bigger check on friday.
I Hate College. 2nd biggest scam the world's got going.

Pizzico turning into tazza?

2006-02-28T08:34:00.000-08:00

God I hope not. The kitchen is starting to fill with drama. I hate it.
I remember how I was when I first started working with food. I didn't know my ass from my elbow, so I pretty much shut up and did as I was told. That's how I started learning. Then I went to school and I shut up and learned in a very intense way. I learned about the food, where it came from, how to cook it, what to serve it with, how to make it look good, what kind of wine it would pair well with and how to mass produce it all for service.
Then I went back to my old job. I knew everything, I wanted to change everything and everything everyone else was doing was so obviously wrong. Suddenly the guys who hadn't gone to school were idiots. Those kitchen warriors who had been doing it for years, the guys who had taught high and mighty me suddenly were idiots. I was so frustrated with them and their indifference to my superiority that I left. I was going to find classier, flashier, More modern places. Somewhere where my blatant culinary genius would be appreciated. When I got there though, I was totally outclassed. Straight out. Dude's making cleaner, faster, better food than me, and getting the prep done in half the time, spending the other half helping me catch up. These weren't guys who went to school. These were guys like the ones I'm working with now, and the guys who taught me in the beginning, a bunch of South Americans who didn't go to culinary school, who just show up and get I done. Guys who know that this isn't a flashy job like you see on food TV.

That's where I learned the most important thing of all. I learned to put my head down, shut my mouth, and do the fucking work.

Vacation week.

2006-02-27T07:37:00.000-08:00

I came to a conclusion tis past week. I have really gotten quite fat and lethargic. My first hint was when it impressed me that could almost jog all the way to work (about 4 blocks) when my car wouldn't start. I should be able to jog to my old job without breathing too hard.
Next, I as at the Laundromat, wearing a pair of jeans. "Why?" you might ask is it important what I ws wearing? I'm not going to tell you, but I do have to go to the job lot to get a needle and thread today.
Finally, one of the dishwashers at work, asked me in boken English, "You have baby?". I wanted to explain to him that I am not in fact pregnant, I just ate one of his friends. Our dishwashers are quite unimposing in size. He wouldn't understand anyway.

So in response to my sudden obisity, I have dedicated my vacation week to not being fat.
***************************************************************************

BuckFutter

2006-02-23T12:03:00.000-08:00

Finished yesterday. Forgot my calculator, so I had to use my cell phone.

Now I have till a week from Monday off. But I won't know my work schedule until Sunday probably. So chances are I won't b making any plans. Further off than tonight anyway, assuming I get all the domestic chores accomplished. Laundry, groceries, Miscellaneous cleaning. Damn cat's make more mess than they're worth I think.

I suppose this evening I will head to the guys' place and barter frozen chicken for Home mad Wine. I wonder if it's any good. I wonder if any of the 70 or so ottles they racked a few days ago are left. Oh well, I have no desire to keep this chicken. Alcohol is better.

Need to find a new place soon too. Landlord know im gett'n out. The girl is too busy to come look. I'm probably gonna be doin the deciding. Somehow I think I am going o get screwed into either a shabby apartment in a bad neighborhood or paying out the ass for a place that's nicer than i can afford all so the Girl can be convienient to the train station.

I like the area I'm in, nice restaurants so work i lways cose at hand, a park right down the street, close enough todowntown that school isn't as muh of an inconvienience as i Make it out to be.

Crap

Somtimes it gets stale

2006-02-21T13:38:00.000-08:00

Hello Rob,
Drew,
Is anyone else reading this?

When I was in Culinary school, class everyday was like going to work. Just like work excep that instead of getting paid a menial hourly wage, I was payine somone else a well padded salary. Anyway, I was pretty good. Exceptional even. Better than the majority at least. Now that I'm out of there, I'm working somewhere between full and part time while going to school yet again.

Point being of course, that I sporadically hear from old friends old classmates. It seems that they've all climbed the ranks of culinaria to positions such as Chef, Soux Chef and various other managerial status'. All but one, The Electromeister. I know I was running Tazza for a while, and it was impressive as a part time thing. Almost a hobby really. As far as "Career worthiness" it was much more of a joke.

So while all these people I knew are running kitchens, building their resume's and experience, what am I up to?

Salad Guy Extrordinaire.

Aside from having become like a comfortable sweater, and rather convienient, the job is decidedly dead end. Not at all stimulating or thought provoking, the only challenge is in volme on certain nights, and the menu reads like granny's recipe box. Simply nothing to learn, and nomoney to make from the place.

Perhaps time to move on?

So I left him standing there with a dead fish in one hand....

2006-02-20T10:21:00.000-08:00

So, Friday was valentines day.
I took the Girl to Chez Pascal.
It was probably the only time I have ever eaten at a restaurant and honestly didn't think I could be that good. GOD I WANNA BE THAT GOOD.
I started with crispy duck confit over baked polenta with red onion marmalade. Like somone was doin it to my food hole. In a good way.
The girl ordered the cheese plate. It was tasty, but I'm pretty sure she didn't "Get it".

As an entree I had the sampling of pork. 3 kinds of pig kiddies! Slow roasted pulle shoulder, Grilled tenderloin, and something else. Quite good indeed.
The girl had the steak. I have no idea what cut of meat it was but it was beautiful.

For desert I had "Chocolate in 3's" which consisted of chocolate molten cake, chocolate mousse, and a chocolate custard. Accompanying this was a glass of 10yr Tawny Port. rather good with a sweet nutty finish.
The girl had the english custard plate, with creme brulee, flan and and another vanilla custardy thing.
All quite good but by this time i was stuffed, and quite full of wine as well.

Too bad I can't afford to eat there even once a week. Very sad really.
*************************************************************************************
Saturday night was tough at work. I was dissappointed in my restaurant as I had began comparing it to Pascal. Luckily I was given an oppertunity to run a pretty bad ass special. Or else I would have just walked out and begged Mark from Chez Pascal for a job. So here is what I did.

Trio of smoked fish (Smoked salmon, Mackeral and Trout) layered with 3 crispy fried potato pancakes, grilled onion relish and horsradish creme over a bed of baby arugula and smoked scallops.
In All quite a success.

After work, The boss (Paulo), The Boss' Lady firend (Carolyn), The girl (Sheri) and I (Me) went to the bar. 10 drinks in 3 hours may have been excesive, but the boss was buying shots like it was goin out of style. {Note: Free Tequilla is not worth it} So then we went home, and sunday morning I died. it wasn't a hang over though, at first I thought it was, but it wasn't. It was some kind of food poisoning. I came to this conclusion because the girl was sick too. and she only had like 2 glasses of wine. And, on top of hangover symptoms, I was expelling things from all parts of my body, and had the shakes and cold sweats. Kinda Like I was coming down from a heroine binge. {I wasn't}

The Reverand Peter Jahnke, ElectroMeister.

2006-02-16T10:47:00.000-08:00

So, I just spoke to my best friend from college. Peter and I met in my second year of college, at the Culinary Institute of America. We spent alot of time at the local diner, often ariving at midnight and leaving around 11am. Much cofee was consumed. Many adventured were had, and a great friendship was forged. however, once we graduated, Peter returned to Texas, and I am now in Providence.
I still speak with Peter via cellular telephone, and his news always suprises me. Not least of all this afternoon's conversation. Peter started the phone call with explaining to me that he was going to marry two of his friends in the next few weeks. Quite befuddled by this I made him explain to me that he is now an ordained minister. Unitarian to boot.
So now if I ever decide to get married, I suppose Peter will be the one to do it. Also, you should all watch out. Peter informed me he has been marrying people left and right without their consent.
"SIR! Would You Like A DOLLAR, and this womans's hand in marriage?"
"Why yes I would!"
"Then by the powers vested in me I pronounce you MAAN AND WIFE!"
"What?"
"Sucker!"

Weekend = bust

2006-02-13T09:58:00.000-08:00

Ok, the weekend went fairly poorly.
Last week I asked my boss for the saturday after V-day off so that I could entertain the girl. He said no problem, have fun... So girlfriend got the same day off, now it's a big deal, I'm supposed to make dinner reservations, do the presents thing. So everything is going according to plan. The Carlos Quit. Didn't give notice, didn't even finish the week, just quit. Then boss man posted the new scheduale. I didn't even look at it, just asked steve "Hey you got me on that saturday right?"
To which he replied, "Nope, Carlos is gone, now I need you. I know the girlfriend wants you, but work comes first".

Dirty rat bastard! First of all I don't need him setting my priorities for me, also, now the girl wants to beat me up. Hard.

I mentioned my plight to a female co-worker, hoping for some superficial sympathy, and all I got was a waitress in hystrics telling me how dead I was.

She was right.

Another reason to Hate V-Day

2006-02-08T11:43:00.000-08:00

Rico14La: nah, i think i can pick stuff out ok, but you know im a big sissy about goin in those places (Victoria's Secret)
Safire48: yup thats me
Safire48: youll be fine
Rico14La: everybody points and stares at guys in there
Safire48: i believe in u
Rico14La: its true, sometimes, depending on what you're looking at, they turn off all the lights in the place except for where your standing
Safire48: hahahaha i know what u mean
Rico14La: and if you look at the sales associates in the eye, they start screaming "Pervert! FREAK! Fetish driven sex maniac!!!"
Rico14La: it's really quite embarrassing
Safire48: no they dont rick
Safire48: not at all
Rico14La: liar
Rico14La: come with me i'll prove it

I Win, Somone else Loses! OR Who wants to be a Rock Star?

2006-02-08T10:38:00.000-08:00

So, I had to pay rent yesterday. I usually pay in cash, and on the way home I had to make change for this transaction. I bought a $5.00 scratch ticket, (1 in 4.75 chance of winning). And, I won $10. Good for me, So I won, and the remaining 3.75 people are huge losers who wasted $5 each. So I took my winnings and bought 2 more $5 tickets. The first one I lost. So Now I represent 1 in 9.25. I scratched the second ticket and I won $100. I am now 2 in14.25. So give or take, In a room of 14 people and one leg, I am better than twelve people and one leg.
And that's how scratch ticket work, I know cuz I am now up $95 for the week. And You, you might just be an odd leg in a room full of twelve losers.
**************************************************************************************

Ok, I have one electric bass, Quite nice sounding, with quite a nice practice amp. Who wants to buy it and become the next Les Claypool? The next Cory Cocomazzi? The next that hot chick from the black eyed Peas?

It'll only cost you $400

Recipe of the week, Valentines complaints and more!

2006-02-07T09:37:00.000-08:00

Dinner last night was a success.
Pan seared pork tenderloin medallions with a balsamic plum reduction, vegetable rice and salad of thinly sliced fennel and roma tomatoes.

So I tool about a cup and a half of apple juice, 2 plums small diced and a half cup of balsamic vinegar and put it on medium heat to reduce. Then I took a pork tenderloin and cut it into medalions. I seasoned them with sea salt, pepper and a bit of cayenne, and seared them on cast Iron.

Then I cooked off my rice, and sauteed shredded carrots, green onion and an orange bell pepper with butter, olive oil and garlic. Once done I combined with the rice, a splash of chicken stock and there was the rice.

Then I cored and seeded some tomatoes, and thinly sliced the fennel, and dressed it all with XVO, sea salt and crushed red pepper.

At this point I ate my food and enjoyed a glass of Australian Shiraz.

************************************************************************************
I hate Valentines day. I used to Hate it because I typically had no one to oggle over for a day. I was bitter. Now I hate it for another reason. Because I have to spend a day oggling over the girl, I'm still bitter. I have to spend actual V-day at work, cuz it's my job. So that weekend, I will have to not work, which means I get no money the following week. Valentines sucks.
*************************************************************************************

I recieved My first Piece of art from Drew today. Drew is quite rad, as is splatter Art. So as the king of Awesome, I hereby declair Sir Drewseph the Prince of Rad.

I was happy today....

2006-02-06T10:55:00.000-08:00

So this is drew's new not LJ thing.
I'll have to think of something good to write about to impress people.
I'll be all smart sounding soon.
Rad

Thanx Drew!