well... they are really putting the screws to me at work... 15 months and $13 billion dollars later... the bell is tolling for me... i am running around liked a crazed reeces monkey... solving problems of all shapes and sizes... just got done canning the second hire of my life... and its all just not enough... i feel like my head is about to pop off... and though i must say as far as lessons of 'professionalism' and 'management', i have been learning an invaluable volume of them... of this i admit... on the other hand, feeling like my head is about to pop off, something like a champagne cork, with a loud and virulent pop and my scalp bouncing off the sealing and smashing into the kitchen sink... well thats not such a great feeling... and sometimes i wonder if all this professional wonder is really worth it... and what the hell am i really doing in the first place... after all financial glory, mansions and benzes were never a personal ambition of mine... not in a realistic or practical sense... there is of course the 'starving immigrant' factor always whistling away in your head... i.e. that one wrong step and back to the welfare line you go... on the other, an intellectually challenging duty like bussing tables is actually sounding fairly appealing... or better yet, becoming a full ascetic... moving out to some god foresaken village in Uttar Pradesh and living with the illiterate locals as the local white weirdo....
anyway, this is all non-sense though at this point i am feeling a very strong sense of burn-out from my career... feel like one of those delusional squirrels in a wheel... sprinting full speed to absolutely nowhere... mistaken spinning bars of the wooden wheel for personal progress and career advancement....
absurdly enough have been actively spending my lottery winnings... or to be clear, laying out the scenario of how one day i was going to go to a deli and buy some lottery tickets... maybe one or five... not sure what the proper strategy is here as i've never bought one before... and as beginners luck would have it, a handsome sum of say $37 million falls upon my head... and i then sail off into the sunset of living as a modern day aristocrat... spending my time and money on causes of noble nature, thinking thoughts of metaphysical bent and overall being utterly content in inactivity... these thoughts, interestingly enough dont come at night but in the mornings as i walk to work... which makes me think that i am having some kind of an inherent repulsive reaction to my daily duties and responsibilites... or just to simplify it - i dont want to go to work... i dont want to wear a suit... i dont want to eat in fancy restaurants... i dont want to deal with assholes... maybe now to think of it... life has finally gotten the best of me and its insane asylum time... or better yet... time to grow a long nasty beard... get my worthless guitar out of the closet... put on some outlandish clothing... and sit by starbucks in union square strumming out of tune melodies to the tipper tapper of passing pedestrian feet....
Monday, April 30, 2007
Sunday, April 22, 2007
On questions of love
OK.... So i was talking to Mila on Wednesday... and I promised her to write a very important blog on a very important topic.... the exact defition of the following terms
- dating
- seeing each other
- sleeping with
I'll dutifully start with the last since thats the easiest one... if yuo say you are sleeping wtih someone... say you claim to your best pal brad that "yes, I am sleeping with Molly"... what does this mean? Well, first of all it implies a sexual relationship of an all out nature... i.e. we are not talking about first or second base anymore... if you are sleeping together, you've at least been naked together and derived whatever pleasures there are to be derived out of this state... what sleeping together also implies is an air of informality... i.e. though you are sleeping with Molly... it doesnt mean that you can sleep with Jenny... or for that matter sleep with both Molly and Jenny at the same time though thats pretty unlikely in real life at least... and this air of informality and non-commitment is what both you and molly will tell one and all... that yes, you two are having fun, that you are indeed 'sleeping together' but that you can date and sleep with whomever else you choose... there, of course, is a little caveat that always gets thrown in - about both of you knowing all about the 'other'sactivities.. to keep things honest that is... and there is of course the one other caveat, though nobody says this one and actually tries to imply the complete opposite... and what both you and molly try to imply is that there is no strings attached, that neither one of you gives two hoots about each other and neither one would really care all that much if the thing came to a screetching halt one used rubber later... and thats a lie, lie, lie... for no matter what anybody claims, no matter how muuch anyone professes to not care, between the 'sleepting together' pair there is always one party who starts expecting a little more than pure sexual gratification... and starts building up 'expectations' (say this is the boy in question)... while the other party continues to enjoy her bohimian pleasures in utter ignorant bliss.... and its all good, and the latter has a good and great time while secretly suspecting that the other party is lying when he says that it dont give no damn.... And she keeps on having her fun until one day she realizes that instead of a nice, frivolous bang on every prime day of the month, she has a young man drooling for her love and affections, desperately in love with her and dying not only for her physical pleasures, but also for the intellectual and emotional support that his scarred, reckless life has been missing for all these years.... and it ends badly... with someone acting badly and irrationally and unfairly and maybe even vindictively when we keep in mind the original 'non-commital' agreement.... but hey, everyone knew the rules when they signed up to 'sleep together'... and one of the parties going off the deep end should certainly have been a consideration since day one....
next we get to dating... and this is my favourite... since maybe it works best for lonesome men who cant get a date (I dont think i am in that horrendous category at the moment, but its nice to think of it to keep oneself psychologically fresh and vital).... dating someone is a term you use for your acquaintances... the people you see maybe once a month, people who you dont know very well, dont really care to know very well and for that very reason place a very high value on their opinion of your social status... so when you do see that oh so important person with whom all in all you have nothing to discuss but either sports if you are a guy or shopping if you are a girl, you immediately want to let them know that even though you are hanging out with them, the acquaintance, you are really not such a big loser... and there is an active social/ sex life going on behind the scenes (despite all appeareances to the contrary).... so you, say you are an ackward young man of unathletic variety, unaccostmed to holding a beer or a conversation for that matter.... and you are out for drinks with that sales dude from work who talks fast... has gel in his hair... and seems to know whats going on with life and women... though what exactly he knows you can never quite put your finger on.... so after the sales chap is done rambling through the summary of his exploits, and there always seem to be exploits... there you are, a bitter beer in hand, a beer you wouldnt dream of drinking on your own time, but given the circumstances convince yourself that thats the right thing to do... and there you are, having spilled that beer over that nice shirt from Today's Man, the stain that you are desperately trying to make sure no one notices... and thats where you start that yes, i am indeed 'dating' someone... and that its nice and civilized and a visitation to the metropolitan museum of arts is next on the agenda... if you are feeling really confident, you replace the latter with either the whitney or if you want to seem overly sophisticated, the Frick Gallery....
But now let me stop here... and give the translation of whats going on... our ackward, bespectacled friend, with a stain on his freshly pressed shirt and a beer buzz from the quarter pint of beer he did manage to get in his mouth... he is indeed dating that special someone... and that means that after months upon months of hard 'internet' work... after dozens upon dozens of non-starter dates.... our man finally got a return phone call on his second date invitation... and its not that his lovely date (or more likely not so lovely) likes him so much... and its not that he likes her so much either.... but you know what they say about dating in the city.... she returned his call, they talked for seventeen and a half minutes about the latest weather pattern in the city, about how the #6 line has got to be the worst one in Manhattan and how he was really impressed with her footwear selection from the first date.... and there you have it... he proposes a civilized affair... this time not in some popsy Union square restaurant but at a more civilzied and 'personal' venue like a museum.... and there you have it, you are now 'dating' each other... or at least you can tell your worthless friends (or better yet, fake friends) that....
notice in discussing dating sex never came up once... thats because if you are 'dating'... there is no sex.... there is no second or third base... there is just that eagerly anticipated peck on the cheek.... at the end of a wonderful and stimulating evening together... as you see her off into a yellow cab... just waiting for the magic words - 'would you like to come back home with me'.... magic words that are nothing but a cruel fantasy in your snapped little overdressed mind...
now perhaps my defintion of 'dating' was a little cruel... but fair all in all i think... for things like that should be reserved for high schools and drive in movie theaters.... since both seem equally far from every day reality now... we might as well take this crappy term out of lexicon altogether...
now there is one term that i do like... and thats seeing each other... for if you are seeing each other implies some sort of formal semi-permanence... you are not seeing anyone else... you are seeing each other... and given the fact that you are indeed seeing each other, it means some serious shit is going down... namely you are getting naked together... or at least trying to.... while carefully, diligently and desperately trying to answer the question - can i call this person my boyfriend/ girlfriend? and if so, am i being presumtpuous or is the other person going to slap me and tell me i am rushing things and making them too serious too fast... and if I cant call this person my 'special someone'... when will i be able... and more importantly do i even want to since things are so good... flowers and kisses and sweet words but serious commitment... screw that.... screwing is fun enough as it is.... and as long as you are just seeing each other its not commitment but a potential for commitment.... so maybe continuing to see each other is not so bad.... without incurring any burdens and responsibilities of actually being 'together'.... screw it.... better to just go back to sleeping together.... all this commitment crap is making me nauseous.... or no... wait a second... maybe this is the love of my life and i just need to take that one extra magical step... and then you realize that you already did for she already has your house keys, bank pin number and email password... screw it buddy, you are over and done with - you are the boyfriend!
- dating
- seeing each other
- sleeping with
I'll dutifully start with the last since thats the easiest one... if yuo say you are sleeping wtih someone... say you claim to your best pal brad that "yes, I am sleeping with Molly"... what does this mean? Well, first of all it implies a sexual relationship of an all out nature... i.e. we are not talking about first or second base anymore... if you are sleeping together, you've at least been naked together and derived whatever pleasures there are to be derived out of this state... what sleeping together also implies is an air of informality... i.e. though you are sleeping with Molly... it doesnt mean that you can sleep with Jenny... or for that matter sleep with both Molly and Jenny at the same time though thats pretty unlikely in real life at least... and this air of informality and non-commitment is what both you and molly will tell one and all... that yes, you two are having fun, that you are indeed 'sleeping together' but that you can date and sleep with whomever else you choose... there, of course, is a little caveat that always gets thrown in - about both of you knowing all about the 'other'sactivities.. to keep things honest that is... and there is of course the one other caveat, though nobody says this one and actually tries to imply the complete opposite... and what both you and molly try to imply is that there is no strings attached, that neither one of you gives two hoots about each other and neither one would really care all that much if the thing came to a screetching halt one used rubber later... and thats a lie, lie, lie... for no matter what anybody claims, no matter how muuch anyone professes to not care, between the 'sleepting together' pair there is always one party who starts expecting a little more than pure sexual gratification... and starts building up 'expectations' (say this is the boy in question)... while the other party continues to enjoy her bohimian pleasures in utter ignorant bliss.... and its all good, and the latter has a good and great time while secretly suspecting that the other party is lying when he says that it dont give no damn.... And she keeps on having her fun until one day she realizes that instead of a nice, frivolous bang on every prime day of the month, she has a young man drooling for her love and affections, desperately in love with her and dying not only for her physical pleasures, but also for the intellectual and emotional support that his scarred, reckless life has been missing for all these years.... and it ends badly... with someone acting badly and irrationally and unfairly and maybe even vindictively when we keep in mind the original 'non-commital' agreement.... but hey, everyone knew the rules when they signed up to 'sleep together'... and one of the parties going off the deep end should certainly have been a consideration since day one....
next we get to dating... and this is my favourite... since maybe it works best for lonesome men who cant get a date (I dont think i am in that horrendous category at the moment, but its nice to think of it to keep oneself psychologically fresh and vital).... dating someone is a term you use for your acquaintances... the people you see maybe once a month, people who you dont know very well, dont really care to know very well and for that very reason place a very high value on their opinion of your social status... so when you do see that oh so important person with whom all in all you have nothing to discuss but either sports if you are a guy or shopping if you are a girl, you immediately want to let them know that even though you are hanging out with them, the acquaintance, you are really not such a big loser... and there is an active social/ sex life going on behind the scenes (despite all appeareances to the contrary).... so you, say you are an ackward young man of unathletic variety, unaccostmed to holding a beer or a conversation for that matter.... and you are out for drinks with that sales dude from work who talks fast... has gel in his hair... and seems to know whats going on with life and women... though what exactly he knows you can never quite put your finger on.... so after the sales chap is done rambling through the summary of his exploits, and there always seem to be exploits... there you are, a bitter beer in hand, a beer you wouldnt dream of drinking on your own time, but given the circumstances convince yourself that thats the right thing to do... and there you are, having spilled that beer over that nice shirt from Today's Man, the stain that you are desperately trying to make sure no one notices... and thats where you start that yes, i am indeed 'dating' someone... and that its nice and civilized and a visitation to the metropolitan museum of arts is next on the agenda... if you are feeling really confident, you replace the latter with either the whitney or if you want to seem overly sophisticated, the Frick Gallery....
But now let me stop here... and give the translation of whats going on... our ackward, bespectacled friend, with a stain on his freshly pressed shirt and a beer buzz from the quarter pint of beer he did manage to get in his mouth... he is indeed dating that special someone... and that means that after months upon months of hard 'internet' work... after dozens upon dozens of non-starter dates.... our man finally got a return phone call on his second date invitation... and its not that his lovely date (or more likely not so lovely) likes him so much... and its not that he likes her so much either.... but you know what they say about dating in the city.... she returned his call, they talked for seventeen and a half minutes about the latest weather pattern in the city, about how the #6 line has got to be the worst one in Manhattan and how he was really impressed with her footwear selection from the first date.... and there you have it... he proposes a civilized affair... this time not in some popsy Union square restaurant but at a more civilzied and 'personal' venue like a museum.... and there you have it, you are now 'dating' each other... or at least you can tell your worthless friends (or better yet, fake friends) that....
notice in discussing dating sex never came up once... thats because if you are 'dating'... there is no sex.... there is no second or third base... there is just that eagerly anticipated peck on the cheek.... at the end of a wonderful and stimulating evening together... as you see her off into a yellow cab... just waiting for the magic words - 'would you like to come back home with me'.... magic words that are nothing but a cruel fantasy in your snapped little overdressed mind...
now perhaps my defintion of 'dating' was a little cruel... but fair all in all i think... for things like that should be reserved for high schools and drive in movie theaters.... since both seem equally far from every day reality now... we might as well take this crappy term out of lexicon altogether...
now there is one term that i do like... and thats seeing each other... for if you are seeing each other implies some sort of formal semi-permanence... you are not seeing anyone else... you are seeing each other... and given the fact that you are indeed seeing each other, it means some serious shit is going down... namely you are getting naked together... or at least trying to.... while carefully, diligently and desperately trying to answer the question - can i call this person my boyfriend/ girlfriend? and if so, am i being presumtpuous or is the other person going to slap me and tell me i am rushing things and making them too serious too fast... and if I cant call this person my 'special someone'... when will i be able... and more importantly do i even want to since things are so good... flowers and kisses and sweet words but serious commitment... screw that.... screwing is fun enough as it is.... and as long as you are just seeing each other its not commitment but a potential for commitment.... so maybe continuing to see each other is not so bad.... without incurring any burdens and responsibilities of actually being 'together'.... screw it.... better to just go back to sleeping together.... all this commitment crap is making me nauseous.... or no... wait a second... maybe this is the love of my life and i just need to take that one extra magical step... and then you realize that you already did for she already has your house keys, bank pin number and email password... screw it buddy, you are over and done with - you are the boyfriend!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Downfall of American society
OK... by the title of this blog, one might think that I am about to go on a philosophical discussion of the disaster in West Virginia... but I am not...
No... what happened just now was I was channel surfing... and after totally ignoring the other 743 channels I have and checking all the important ones - i.e. ESPN, ESPN2, MSG, Sports Channel, HBO, HBO2, HBO3 & HBO4, IFC, VH1 and E! - I settled on the the old fashioned solution... yes, I went to MTV and turned on 'real world'... or as i discovered, it wasnt Real World but one of the 'derivative' shows - something like Road rules vs. Real world... I dont want to get into the dynamics of this form of entertainment, since if anyone is numb enough to care to know, they already know... and if they dont know... well good for them...
Anyway... whats been striking me about these shows... the 'reality' MTV genre... is the absolute dumbness and ignorance of the participants.... And i dont know if its because I am getting old or just wise... but I thought at least the 1st real world, if not the first 3 seasons altogether were somewhat reasonable shows... from an intellectual perspective.... you know with that racial incident in the first season... Pedro having AIDS in season 2... and of course that British rock dude getting his tongue bit off at a show in the Paris season...
Of course on the other hand maybe I am having selective memory... in season one there was Eric Nies... cant say anymore on this topic except that a few years ago I heard that he had to be treated for depression, which is a stunningly human problem for a former host of the 'grind'.... in season 2 there was Puck and all he had to share with humanity... and then there was that California season with the Irish guy, Dominick, who couldnt stay sober for a single episode... so maybe things at first were somewhat balanced... or at least had some sort of a lean towards serious 'reality'...
now, i am sad to report, 'real world' has become and absolute mirror reflection of american idiocy.... and yes, by saying this i admit that i regularly watch the mindless show... but back to the question at hand... and is it just me, or do they pick the most self-absorbed, melo-dramatic, thoughtless people this country can possibly dream of producing... each and every episode breaks down into some version of either the cast 'doing something' - ie going on a trip, trying to run a business (miserably without fail) or helping underprivilieged kids (not sure if this could be called help).... or a melodramatic breakdown of some kind... such as in the most recent 'real world' denver, Tyree, the tough black dude, tells Paul, the gay christian prima donna, that he thinks travis (or whatever that guy's name is), the other black guy in the house, is a 'white black'... now i am not black myself, nor do i claim myself to have any serious understanding of the afro-american culture (though i do listen to wu tang clan and biggie smalls)... but thats a pretty serious thing for one brother to say about another... and what does Paul, our gay christian prima donna do, but immediately run to the other guy and tell him that his supposed 'brother' called him a white boy.... now i dont know if i am the only one here, but what kind of weak ass behavior is this!? who does this!? what kind of a conniving, manipulative bastard do you have to be to do something like that? and most importantly, why is this guy on TV... is this what America wants to see?
from here i can do endless other analysis of every single cast member... but my point here is not to analyze reality TV melodramatics... my point is why does not a single intellectual topic or question ever come up... why is there no 'dialogue' about anythign except food, work, booze and sex? is this really representative of our great nation and where it currently stands? why is it that so many people in this country cant find on the map not only Idaho, but also Italy... and more importantly - why do they not care!? and i am not talking about some pumpkin heads from Redneck, Nebraska... I am talking about dudes on Wall Street, graduates of Dartmouth and Boston College, who think Nassau, Bahamas is an exotic foreign vacation and that Borat gave Kazakhstani people a keen sense of American life... Shit... is this why our foreign policy is such a god damn mess? because we have a bunch of over-educated ignoramuses running both our government and our businesses...? ignoramuses who might know where paris and even bangkok or ho chi mihn city are... but have absolutely no hope of actually understanding or grasping anything outside 'Cops: Reno' or Sunday Night football...
anyway... this turned into a bit of a rant... but i stick with it one way or another... and on another note... if you are indeed bored and are in desperate need of mindless entertainment... please do yourself a favour and go to VH1... I highly recommend and can personally vouch for both 'Flavour of Love' and 'I love New York'... 'Surreal Life' with vanilla ice is also not half bad....
No... what happened just now was I was channel surfing... and after totally ignoring the other 743 channels I have and checking all the important ones - i.e. ESPN, ESPN2, MSG, Sports Channel, HBO, HBO2, HBO3 & HBO4, IFC, VH1 and E! - I settled on the the old fashioned solution... yes, I went to MTV and turned on 'real world'... or as i discovered, it wasnt Real World but one of the 'derivative' shows - something like Road rules vs. Real world... I dont want to get into the dynamics of this form of entertainment, since if anyone is numb enough to care to know, they already know... and if they dont know... well good for them...
Anyway... whats been striking me about these shows... the 'reality' MTV genre... is the absolute dumbness and ignorance of the participants.... And i dont know if its because I am getting old or just wise... but I thought at least the 1st real world, if not the first 3 seasons altogether were somewhat reasonable shows... from an intellectual perspective.... you know with that racial incident in the first season... Pedro having AIDS in season 2... and of course that British rock dude getting his tongue bit off at a show in the Paris season...
Of course on the other hand maybe I am having selective memory... in season one there was Eric Nies... cant say anymore on this topic except that a few years ago I heard that he had to be treated for depression, which is a stunningly human problem for a former host of the 'grind'.... in season 2 there was Puck and all he had to share with humanity... and then there was that California season with the Irish guy, Dominick, who couldnt stay sober for a single episode... so maybe things at first were somewhat balanced... or at least had some sort of a lean towards serious 'reality'...
now, i am sad to report, 'real world' has become and absolute mirror reflection of american idiocy.... and yes, by saying this i admit that i regularly watch the mindless show... but back to the question at hand... and is it just me, or do they pick the most self-absorbed, melo-dramatic, thoughtless people this country can possibly dream of producing... each and every episode breaks down into some version of either the cast 'doing something' - ie going on a trip, trying to run a business (miserably without fail) or helping underprivilieged kids (not sure if this could be called help).... or a melodramatic breakdown of some kind... such as in the most recent 'real world' denver, Tyree, the tough black dude, tells Paul, the gay christian prima donna, that he thinks travis (or whatever that guy's name is), the other black guy in the house, is a 'white black'... now i am not black myself, nor do i claim myself to have any serious understanding of the afro-american culture (though i do listen to wu tang clan and biggie smalls)... but thats a pretty serious thing for one brother to say about another... and what does Paul, our gay christian prima donna do, but immediately run to the other guy and tell him that his supposed 'brother' called him a white boy.... now i dont know if i am the only one here, but what kind of weak ass behavior is this!? who does this!? what kind of a conniving, manipulative bastard do you have to be to do something like that? and most importantly, why is this guy on TV... is this what America wants to see?
from here i can do endless other analysis of every single cast member... but my point here is not to analyze reality TV melodramatics... my point is why does not a single intellectual topic or question ever come up... why is there no 'dialogue' about anythign except food, work, booze and sex? is this really representative of our great nation and where it currently stands? why is it that so many people in this country cant find on the map not only Idaho, but also Italy... and more importantly - why do they not care!? and i am not talking about some pumpkin heads from Redneck, Nebraska... I am talking about dudes on Wall Street, graduates of Dartmouth and Boston College, who think Nassau, Bahamas is an exotic foreign vacation and that Borat gave Kazakhstani people a keen sense of American life... Shit... is this why our foreign policy is such a god damn mess? because we have a bunch of over-educated ignoramuses running both our government and our businesses...? ignoramuses who might know where paris and even bangkok or ho chi mihn city are... but have absolutely no hope of actually understanding or grasping anything outside 'Cops: Reno' or Sunday Night football...
anyway... this turned into a bit of a rant... but i stick with it one way or another... and on another note... if you are indeed bored and are in desperate need of mindless entertainment... please do yourself a favour and go to VH1... I highly recommend and can personally vouch for both 'Flavour of Love' and 'I love New York'... 'Surreal Life' with vanilla ice is also not half bad....
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Fine food
The last week has shown me that my 'au naturale' food experience (entry below) was not a one off incident... apparently these days i have taken to eating at fine and upstanding dining establishments which a poor russian immigrant such as myself should hardly consider not only affordable, but even worthwhile... after all... what happened to the days when eating out was so off limits it wasnt even considered... or to the lusty days when my beloved McDonalds #1 was a meal for all times and occasions?
No.... now i have to go to places that serve food i cant identify... i cant identify it when i see it on the menu (even with a little description below)... and i cant identify it when i put it in my mouth, for its got so much other crap on it, that at this point there is no reasonable way to identify it... for example, is it a charbroiled pig on some fine roasted honey nut lavender grapes or finely grilled filet mignon served with a side of asparagus, sweet potatoe and tabasco sause (yes, i made this up).... and then the really cute waitress comes over, and as she watches the steak 1 sauce sprint down my chin towards my newly pressed shirt, she inquires with absolute honesty and innocence, "Is everything OK?" "Would you like to see the dessert menu?" and no no no... i am not ok and i will not eat dessert other than cherry pie or apple strudel... these crazed chocolate contraptions are not for a real man like me...
and all in all the atmosphere all around is lovely and formal and hip and oh so unreal that i want to puke... there are the former friends from college, all dressed and looking even preppier then they did in their days at Lehigh... The pothead (former and current) is a lawyer, the geek is a high yield analyst at Bank of America and the moron everyone thought would be a failure in life is a venture capitalist VP at some place where he is sure to be making close to a mil... though he still acts like a moron... and they've all got jappy bitches of all creeds and colors by their sides... and they are all talking pleasant and nodding their heads and mentioning 'friends' and 'will and grace' and other pertinent topics of the day... nodding especially hard is the high yield analyst since he is still a geek and the girl he thought was his date is now just the second date of the venture capitalist... the date, slightly plump and uncomfortably over-fashionable, is drooling in the lawyer's lap, who is oblivious to everything since twenty minutes from this very moment he has to head back to the office... "i know i should have done finance," the despondent University
of Michigan esquire mumbles to himself... "damn it..."
and next to these people is the uncomfortable first date couple... she, blonde, happy and nervous... he, with the fashionable rooster look, back in the 70's pinstriped shirt and white washed jeans... she is telling him something that he thinks she thinks is important... so he is nodding his head in pleasant agreement... making sure that his eyes dont stare for too long at the bossom beneath the blonde's chin, for as her loops move and nose shuffles, the bossoms seem to catch the rhythm and move together with everything, and since the damn music is too loud to hear anything anyway, not that anything important is really being said anyway, but naturally it becomes a battle of not so much listening as eye contact management... "cant be caught looking at her tits on the first date, asshole," the young man encourages himself, as his tired eyes skid past the lips and the chin, down neck...
he of course works in advertising... where you get to dress up and look pretty and make some pitiful cash.... for new york style at least... this though is not that big of an issue since dad already took the hard route, stuck it out in corporate finance and now his kid not only looks like the second coming of Donny Wahlberg, but even has a trust fund to support his 'creative side'.... and hey, good ole dad always wanted to bang blonde bimbos from the midwest... but bad brooklyn teeth got in the way... no sonny boy is catching up where daddy dearest fell short... and the blonde loves it.... for not only is she not in Boise anymore... not only is she in the place, the place where Amanda from Sex in the City does her thing.... but she is on a date with a real new york advertising hot shot who will spoil her silly with pink martinis, lines of coke and all the hippest clubs in the meatpacking district...
anyway, it seems i got off my thoughts on fine food... i hate it... its a rip off... i feel like a clown eating at these places... but chicks dig it so what am i to do!? end of story...
No.... now i have to go to places that serve food i cant identify... i cant identify it when i see it on the menu (even with a little description below)... and i cant identify it when i put it in my mouth, for its got so much other crap on it, that at this point there is no reasonable way to identify it... for example, is it a charbroiled pig on some fine roasted honey nut lavender grapes or finely grilled filet mignon served with a side of asparagus, sweet potatoe and tabasco sause (yes, i made this up).... and then the really cute waitress comes over, and as she watches the steak 1 sauce sprint down my chin towards my newly pressed shirt, she inquires with absolute honesty and innocence, "Is everything OK?" "Would you like to see the dessert menu?" and no no no... i am not ok and i will not eat dessert other than cherry pie or apple strudel... these crazed chocolate contraptions are not for a real man like me...
and all in all the atmosphere all around is lovely and formal and hip and oh so unreal that i want to puke... there are the former friends from college, all dressed and looking even preppier then they did in their days at Lehigh... The pothead (former and current) is a lawyer, the geek is a high yield analyst at Bank of America and the moron everyone thought would be a failure in life is a venture capitalist VP at some place where he is sure to be making close to a mil... though he still acts like a moron... and they've all got jappy bitches of all creeds and colors by their sides... and they are all talking pleasant and nodding their heads and mentioning 'friends' and 'will and grace' and other pertinent topics of the day... nodding especially hard is the high yield analyst since he is still a geek and the girl he thought was his date is now just the second date of the venture capitalist... the date, slightly plump and uncomfortably over-fashionable, is drooling in the lawyer's lap, who is oblivious to everything since twenty minutes from this very moment he has to head back to the office... "i know i should have done finance," the despondent University
of Michigan esquire mumbles to himself... "damn it..."
and next to these people is the uncomfortable first date couple... she, blonde, happy and nervous... he, with the fashionable rooster look, back in the 70's pinstriped shirt and white washed jeans... she is telling him something that he thinks she thinks is important... so he is nodding his head in pleasant agreement... making sure that his eyes dont stare for too long at the bossom beneath the blonde's chin, for as her loops move and nose shuffles, the bossoms seem to catch the rhythm and move together with everything, and since the damn music is too loud to hear anything anyway, not that anything important is really being said anyway, but naturally it becomes a battle of not so much listening as eye contact management... "cant be caught looking at her tits on the first date, asshole," the young man encourages himself, as his tired eyes skid past the lips and the chin, down neck...
he of course works in advertising... where you get to dress up and look pretty and make some pitiful cash.... for new york style at least... this though is not that big of an issue since dad already took the hard route, stuck it out in corporate finance and now his kid not only looks like the second coming of Donny Wahlberg, but even has a trust fund to support his 'creative side'.... and hey, good ole dad always wanted to bang blonde bimbos from the midwest... but bad brooklyn teeth got in the way... no sonny boy is catching up where daddy dearest fell short... and the blonde loves it.... for not only is she not in Boise anymore... not only is she in the place, the place where Amanda from Sex in the City does her thing.... but she is on a date with a real new york advertising hot shot who will spoil her silly with pink martinis, lines of coke and all the hippest clubs in the meatpacking district...
anyway, it seems i got off my thoughts on fine food... i hate it... its a rip off... i feel like a clown eating at these places... but chicks dig it so what am i to do!? end of story...
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Lessons from a fine organic meal
just had a lovely dinner with XXXX, his wife YYY and my man ZZZZZ... we ate at one of these 'natural' restaurants where on the menu. among other things, they had 'natural bacon'... when i inquired what was so 'natural' about the bacon... i was told that it came from a 'natural pig'... i naturally asked if that meant that the creature was allowed to roam free, oink its soul out and lie in vast pools of mud to its heart's content... the reply was that there was no way to confirm this though according to the 'natural' label the pig was fed all 'natural' food... and hence was a 'natural' pig out of which obviously came 'natural' bacon... after reviewing the variety of other menu options, it was clear that i had no choise and i ordered a cheeseburger with 'natural' bacon... perhaps because there was no assurance on the menu that the cow was 'natural' as well, the food stunk though the 'natural' bacon in of itself was ok....
there were two primary lessons that came out of this meeting of the minds...
first of all... having children seems like a lot of unpleasant work... you cant sleep... you cant leave... you cant do anything... and if you live in London, you cant even go outside... at least with the child in tow... apparently the 'children should be seen not heard' thing originated in none other but the land of passion and eloquence... uhmm... no... I mean land of drunken louts and bad weather... and not only will they not give up a seat to a pregnant woman on the bus (true story), not only will woman walking with a stroller in the park get robbed by some hoodlum (true story), but they wouldnt even allow a woman with a stroller into a perfectly respectable eatery in Maida Vaile (also, supposedly a true story)... Now this is is too much even for the tastes of yours truly... And I must say that if I didnt explicitly wish so in the past, which i just might have, I hope the English football team loses in a penalty shoot out of World Cup quarter finals every four years from now to eternity... amen...
second lesson i learned today is that no matter what... that second culture you live in is highly unlikely to be your favourite... and if one was to put odds on it, most likely your least favorite... i am referring here to the bi and tri-cultural ones out there who at one point lived in one place and then at an age of naive youth had to go live somewhere else... as a side observation, those who immigrated at a later age seem to have a more matter of fact contempt and derision for their second culture.... those who are younger - for them its more personal... perhaps because the older you are the more comfortable you are with where you come from and dealing with another culture becomes more a learning experience and perhaps entertainment than an all out personal challenge... which is what happens when you are young when you make the switch... and it seems the younger you are, when you make the switch... the more mythical and wonderful that first culture becomes and the more downright rotten and vile that second one is....
first of all... having children seems like a lot of unpleasant work... you cant sleep... you cant leave... you cant do anything... and if you live in London, you cant even go outside... at least with the child in tow... apparently the 'children should be seen not heard' thing originated in none other but the land of passion and eloquence... uhmm... no... I mean land of drunken louts and bad weather... and not only will they not give up a seat to a pregnant woman on the bus (true story), not only will woman walking with a stroller in the park get robbed by some hoodlum (true story), but they wouldnt even allow a woman with a stroller into a perfectly respectable eatery in Maida Vaile (also, supposedly a true story)... Now this is is too much even for the tastes of yours truly... And I must say that if I didnt explicitly wish so in the past, which i just might have, I hope the English football team loses in a penalty shoot out of World Cup quarter finals every four years from now to eternity... amen...
second lesson i learned today is that no matter what... that second culture you live in is highly unlikely to be your favourite... and if one was to put odds on it, most likely your least favorite... i am referring here to the bi and tri-cultural ones out there who at one point lived in one place and then at an age of naive youth had to go live somewhere else... as a side observation, those who immigrated at a later age seem to have a more matter of fact contempt and derision for their second culture.... those who are younger - for them its more personal... perhaps because the older you are the more comfortable you are with where you come from and dealing with another culture becomes more a learning experience and perhaps entertainment than an all out personal challenge... which is what happens when you are young when you make the switch... and it seems the younger you are, when you make the switch... the more mythical and wonderful that first culture becomes and the more downright rotten and vile that second one is....
And perhaps its a mental association game of sorts... kind of like most people dont have any 'negative' associations with extreme youth and childhood... and obviously the older you get, the more you get to live life, and the more you get to live life, the more 'negative' associations come about (dont ask me why, but thats how it is, or at least i am pretty sure)... so the younger you are when you switch cultures, the more one gets associated with the 'clean and immaculate' period in your life and the more the other one gets tied in with various natural complexities associated with it....
anyway, thats a stab at this topic though i clearly realize that there are vast dimensions of this argument that i am clearly missing...
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
rambling thoughts...
so here i am on a fine pesach evening in my fine and yellowish east village apartment... i am contemplating my life and my future and what i shall do with myself...
just as a little background, i am a finely compensated profressional in the world of finance... making a pittance of a penny to those around me but probably a healthy dose more than your average American... and if we start, for comparison purposes, counting the rest of the world - i can be justifiably called an overpaid and highly worthless bastard...
the question before me is of course quite natural... for all the negative connotations with being an overpaid and highly worthless bastard, things are not so bad... i recently discovered that i've developed a habit, totally without design, of eating at fine dining establishments with modern decor, obeisant maitre'd and successful looking people all around me... note i didnt say good looking... i am not sure if i qualify in either the latter or the former category... but i think i reached the stage in my life where i just might have enough money.... or to be clear, and to speak in fine Economics class jargon, i've reached a state of equilibrium.... fact of the matter is i dont really want to make less than what i make now.... for i am used to the amenities of the fine life i am leading... that being not having to count my pennies... and doing what i please, when i please... with this in mind, please note that this does not mean that i am rich or anything, just that what i make seems to meet my overall 'fiscal' needs... so i am not leasing a jet and buzzing off to vail anytime soon.... but i could book an economy class ticket to sun city and be off skiing 2 days from now... so thats where i stand...
and fact of the matter, and addition $x will probably make only a marginal difference in my life... by that i mean that i will find some completely extraneous way to spend the extra money without actually deriving any 'utility' out of it.... note the continued Economics speak here...so end of all ends, what will make a real difference is making a boat load of money... so i can maybe not so much rent a jet but more like totally do what i please, when i please... and this means not having to work for the Man... but truth of the matter is that the likelihood of such an event, in the near term at least is quite low.... for i am probably not winning the lottery.... primary reason being that i dont play it... and i might get a nice pay raise one of these days... but not that nice...
so anyway... i dont know where i am going with this... i think the point is that money is OK... head and heart are not... decision before me is to whether to step away from the fine world of finance and the suits and the ties and corporate offices and pleasant conversations that i oh so admire... and do something a little bit more interesting... that say could involve travel or creativity or talking something more or less relevant of the world around me (that being not $$$ related.. at least so bloody explicitly).... or to continue in my obedient ways towards paycheck, promotion and perhaps one day, if i bow just right, vice presidential glory at a financial institution near you...
thus is the summary... or at least the rambling summary of my state of mind on the evening of april the 3rd... the second night of pesach in the year 2007.... comparing myself to a crazed jew in the desert would seem very poetic and appropriate, but really not quite right given my afore mentioned penchant for fine living...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
