May 6: Taste tests

I get to cross another thing off the list of 100 foods everyone should try in their lifetime. I’m up to a whopping 35/100 now because I ate Kobe beef when I dined at Papa Haydn the other night.

But wait, there’s more! I also ate Brussels sprouts. To quote my beloved Heimlich, “I know, I cannot believe it also!”

My memory of previous attempts to eat Brussels sprouts bring to mind a distinct flavor of body odor, so I was not looking forward to eating them again. However, when I ordered the Kobe beef I forgot to ask if they could substitute the Brussels sprouts for a vegetable that doesn’t taste like gym stink, and there they were when my steak showed up.

(I cut up a piece of steak before I thought to take a picture of my plate, so this is not as pretty as when it was first set in front of me. Oh well. Those are Purple Peruvian and Russian Banana fingerling potatoes under the beef. The sprouts were smallish, like the size of walnuts.)

First, the beef: it was more tender than the finest filet mignon I’ve ever had. It was more flavorful, too, and the texture was less dense. Perfection, absolute perfection. It must be all the beer and sake massages they give those cows in Japan. I don’t see Kobe beef on a lot of menus, but I’ll definitely order it again when I get the chance.

And the sprouts, well, the sprouts were surprisingly edible. In fact, I liked them more than the potatoes, which were a little bit dry. I didn’t LOVE the sprouts, but I think I could eat them again without thinking of that one guy who always came to business law class after playing racquetball and not showering.

May 6: Recruiter’s blues

My friend Sherilee twittered this today:

I want to write a poem about reviewing resumes, endless piles of resumes, but it can't rhyme and can't use any bad words. I'm screwed.

Makes me feel bad for her
PLUS
I’m always looking for an excuse to write haiku
MINUS
pride and talent
EQUALS
poetry time with Jen!

Piles of résumés
Endless piles of résumés
Too many! No more!

Ad said “writers, please!”
Applicants can’t even type
Trash overflowing

Application fraud
I mean, who would believe this???
They’re all idiots

This guy did jail time?
FOR KILLING A RECRUITER?
No thank you, kind sir.

No experience?
Send your résumé to Sher!
She’ll whimper and cry

Job has worn her out
Makes her hate all humankind
Must recruit shrink now

Sher can’t swear? I can.
“This is @#%#%&^!”   (trust me, that’s seven syllables)
You’re welcome, my friend.

Silly Sherilee, thinking you have to write your own sucky poetry! You know I’ll always help you out in your time of need.

May 6: It’s all about Lori

Stuff Jen Says is quickly turning into All Lori, All The Time. If you think it’s an improvement you’re welcome to go right ahead and keep that thought to yourself because why you gotta be so mean?

Today’s Statesman Journal has an article about local boy done good Deen Castronovo. If you’ve been paying attention, you know Deen is The Loveliest Lori’s brother-in-law** and the guy my drummer nephew likes to call “Uncle” Deen because apparently he’s way cooler than Uncle Vic. The article tells about Deen’s work with the Boys & Girls Club of the Salem area.

Drummer aims to spark musical journey for kids

It must be nice to have a celebrity for which a city can be proud; sadly, people remember Tonya Harding’s Portland connection much more readily than Matt Groening’s.

Lovely Lori H—the Lori formerly known as Lori (other)—do you have any celebrity relatives we can claim as our own? I think anything within a few degrees is worth a mention.  :)

**Photo of Deen and Lori lifted from Lori’s Thanksgiving ‘08 Facebook photo album because I think it’s super cute. Click it and you’ll surely agree.

May 5: Sinkful of mayo

I do not have anything to blog about at this moment, but The Loveliest Lori has already chastised me today for not having new posts up by 7:00 each morning. What ye ask for is what ye get, I always say. Well, not always. But if it’s a post she wants, it’s a post she gets. No matter that I have nothing of great import to share.

Except this: “The Lovely Lori” is going to be “The Loveliest Lori” now, in order to differentiate from “Lori (other)” and the multitude of like-named visitors to Stuff Jen Says. The reason? “Lori (other)” is a perfectly lovely person, and I don’t want to imply otherwise. “The Loveliest Lori” is the loveliest because I’ve known her since I was what—11? 12?—and frankly, I’m kind of scared of her. So, “Lori (other)” and other Lori-types, be assured that you are no less lovely or loved. There.

Other points I’m using to fill my post this morning:

1. I ate two unusual (for me) foods last night; one that I’d never tried before and the other that I’ve hated since I was little. I live to tell the tale.
2. I did not meet Ed for dinner dressed as Liz-Lemon-on-jury-duty, but if I coulda, I woulda.
3. More iPhone app reviews will be up soon. I know, I know. You want me to hurry up with those.
4. My car is not quite the amphibious vehicle some claim it is. McLoughlin Boulevard is a lake when it rains hard here. Apologies to that person walking on the roadside for which I created a dangerous Greg Brady surf; I don’t think the hand gesture he or she gave me meant “hang ten.”
5. I don’t think anyone’s ever actually suggested my car might be amphibious.

More on these and other exciting things later. Gotta get to work.

May 4: Happy Star Wars Day. Yup.

This morning there were a bunch of jokes on twitter about celebrating Star Wars Day in one’s parents’ basement with an assembly of action figures. I looked around the ‘net a little to find out more about Star Wars Day because I had no idea such a day even existed because isn’t every day Star Wars Day? It is in our house.

I finally found an answer at Wikipedia. You know Wikipedia’s got the best answers to everything because anyone anywhere can edit Wikipedia pages and no one would ever post unverified facts to a wiki. Right?

Here’s why today, May 4, is considered Star Wars Day: “May the 4th be with you.”

Ha ha ha clever not really.

You are encouraged to celebrate today in whatever way you choose. I myself will be raiding Jack’s bedroom for his Darth Vader head and one of many light sabers (“with super-realistic sound effects!”) so I can be properly costumed to meet Ed for dinner tonight.

Live long and prosper. Oh wait—wrong stupid space movie. Whatev.

May 3: Dreams be dreams

Last night I had a dream in which I couldn’t remember the name of my nephew’s band. I had just met a record agent and wanted to tell him all about this fine group of young men, but all I could remember was that their band name started with a B.

(Their band name does not start with a B. It doesn’t even have a B in it.)

My sister showed up so I asked her what their name was, and after merciless teasing about my poor memory, she started telling me all these weird names that I knew weren’t real, like “Blackhawk Down” and “Big Mac” and “Bon Jovi,” and was basically no help at all. Stephen (the nephew in the band) called just then, so I asked if I could talk to him.

Kathy said, “Hold on, Auntie Menopause wants to ask you something.”

I replied, “Thanks, Hormone Replacement Therapy,” and took the phone from her.

(Because, y’know, Kathy and I are sweet to each other in dreams just like we are in real life.)

Stephen made me try to guess their name, so I gave him all the fake ones his mom had told me and then threw in a few of my own. Apparently his band mates were listening in on Auntie Menopause and decided they were going to change their band name right then and there because who could resist “Botched Hormone Replacement Therapy”?

See? I knew it started with a B.

(“The Rouge (or BHRT, if you prefer) has posted a new song on their web site. I think Tangerine’s still my favorite, but Six Shooter is awesome too,” said the totally unbiased Auntie Pre-Pre-Pre-Menopause. “Also, that is some fiiiine drummering.”)

May 2: Silly beagle

Letterman = funny, beagle = funny, Stupid Pet Tricks on Letterman = funny. Win-win-win.

May 2: Plinky ~ My arch enemy

Today’s Plinky prompt:

Who was your arch enemy when you were 10?

Change the name, if you're a wuss.

This one is easy.

Keri (her real name!) and I became fast friends when I started fifth grade at TVJA. We both lived with our single moms, and because most of our classmates’ parents were married, we banded together as the odd ones out. But friendship, like all things at that age, is fickle. The next school year we both started playing the flute in band and suddenly our friendship became competitive. Some might have said it was downright hateful. There were probably other issues too, like fights between mutual friends and playground stuff and all that. I don’t remember. I just know that we went from being best of friends to not being able to stand each other anymore. We continued like that through junior high.

In 1983-84 TVJA added a tenth grade, and while a lot of kids went on to academy (high school) for ninth grade, nearly all of them had left by tenth. Our class was eight students strong, and one of those students was Keri. This was distressing to me—her too, I’m sure—but our mutual hatred simply couldn’t survive the small class size. I think it surprised us both that within weeks we were civil again. Keri and I ended up being best friends through the rest of high school.

I went to Washington state for college, and Keri went to Virginia. We had little contact for several years, but when we were both back in Portland in the early 90’s we got together occasionally. In 1994 we made a reunion trip to San Francisco with the other two girls from our tenth grade class, exactly ten years after our memorable class trip there. Keri later moved to Seattle and we lost touch again.

The happy ending to my arch enemy story: last week we found each other on Facebook and are slowly getting caught up again. Many of my best memories of high school and beyond involve Keri, and I’m glad she was my enemy for only a few years instead of for EVER.

The not so happy ending (for someone else): I ran into our tenth grade teacher last year, who is now pastoring a church near where I live. He told me he quit teaching after that infamous school year. We broke him! I suspect it was being stuck in a van with eight teenagers on that very long drive to and from San Francisco…

May 1: Broke-down crap

A few weeks ago my husband broke my blender. Neither of us knows how it happened, but the teeth on the bottom pretty much crumbled. This wouldn’t be a very big deal but-cept it was my Kitchen-Aid blender, the one I love love love because it is so powerful it can perfectly crush an iceberg in seconds without burning out its motor. Or something like that. There were still a few teeth left so the blender still blended, but its heart wasn’t in it, y’know? I didn’t want to think about having to replace it (they don’t make that color anymore, and it matches my stand mixer, food processor, toaster, and hand mixer because yes, I’m one of those everything-must-match dorks), and yet the thing that would best make me forget about it—alcohol—was not nearly as delightful and refreshing without the perfectly crushed ice to go along with it.

Last night I Googled “Kitchen-Aid blender replacement parts” and found exactly the piece that needs to be replaced, along with the instructions to replace it in three languages. Six dollars. Just six dollars and Jen can stop whining and start gettin’ her drink on again.

Altogether now: Yay!

Around the same time the blender broke, my laptop battery died. No big deal; I usually have it plugged in anyway. A couple days later, the power supply died. And that made me want to die. I cannot live without my laptop. Girl, you know it’s true.

Replacing those two items at dell.com is about the same cost as a new laptop, but I looked around a little online and found several stores where I could get both items for less than $50. Again, happy non-whining Jen!

So, while it really sucked having all three of these oh-so-important items break in a short span of time, I’m thankful I was able to replace them easily and inexpensively (relatively speaking). Again: YAY!

And that, my dears, is a much more positive post than the one I considered writing earlier today, which would have been all about parents who don’t contribute to their kids’ classroom celebrations and how tempting it is to not serve those kids cake at the classroom celebrations but only the evilest of room parents would do that and either way, I don’t think I want to be a room parent after this year.

May 1: Plinky ~ No fun

Today’s Plinky prompt:

What's the least fun you've ever had at a place specifically tailored for fun?

Explain what happened.

Two places instantly came to mind when I read this question.

1. Six Flags Magic Mountain. Vic and I took a very early flight to L.A. and planned to take an NBC studio tour right away. We drove straight to Burbank from the airport and the tickets were already gone for the day. There were no tickets available to see a show being taped either, so our grand plans for our first day of vacation were screwed. We decided to go to Magic Mountain, which we had originally planned to do the next day. Not having gotten much sleep the night before, as well as being on a plane, apparently did something to our equilibrium or whatever it is that’s supposed to keep us from puking on the roller coasters. We also made a bad first choice to ride the Colossus—the big wooden coaster that is the bumpiest, jerkiest, slowest coaster I’ve ever been on ever in my life ever.
   
   This was in my short-lived heyday of no-fear-of-scary-rides, and I would have loved to ride most of the coasters there, but I didn’t want to be The Girl Who Turned Green And They Had To Stop The Ride And Let Her Off Why Do People Ride If They’re Sick Anyway I Hate Her For Ruining My Day. Vic went on a few rides by himself. Neither of us actually puked, but we didn’t feel well at all the whole day and were eager to leave.
   
   The other thing that sucked about our day at Magic Mountain was that hardly anyone was there. At first we thought it was cool—no lines, no crowds—but after a while it just seemed like a loser-y place because if it was so great, where was everyone?
   
   
2. Disneyland. I know, how can I not have had fun at Disneyland? I freaking LOVE Disneyland!
   
   I had a terrible headache one day and after a few hours I just couldn’t take it anymore. I left the kids with Victor and my mom and went back to the hotel to try to sleep off the pain. I was furious at myself. I really didn’t think I had it in me to voluntarily leave Disneyland.

As far as sickness, neither of these rotten days were the fault of the amusement parks. But as far as the stupid stuff at Magic Mountain? It was just stupid.

Now let’s hear your story.