3.5.2017
My little family trekked up north of LA to the beautiful city of Fresno,
CA for Christmas this past year. Our hosts were my little wife's
brother and his wife and would you believe it, they weren't home to
greet us because they were at the hospital having a baby!
We've done
the Air BnB-thing several times and so walking into someone else's home
is not unfamiliar. All of the home owner's stuff is there - furniture,
linens, cookware, etc. (At one of the more memorable Air BnB bookings,
we found the fridge to contain various condiments, pickles and such.
One of our crew thought for sure it was all poisoned by the previous
guests or owners and promply chucked it all and replaced it.)
While
at that place the fridge contents were both unexpected and suspected all
at the same time, the empty but not empty home of our kin had a kitchen
full of food. We found sixty bags of Flamin' Hot Cheetos and a full
rice cooker still on the warm setting. The fridge was stocked full as
was the freezer and pantry.
It was approaching 3 pm and everyone
knows what to do at 3 pm, so I investigated the coffee situation. I was
disheartened to find a single-shot Keureg machine - still so popular
these days - and so resigned myself to find the inserts. I did notice a
gigantor can of Yuban coffee next to the machine. I wondered why for a
moment while rummaging for the single-shot inserts. What I found were a
couple insert-shaped "cages" and a full box of itty bitty filters that
fit into them. That solved the Yuban mystery.
I slotted a filter
into the cage, spooned Yuban into the filter and inserted it into the
machine. I filled the water reservoir, placed a coffee mug I found into
place, pressed the button and waited for the process to complete.
When
it was ready, I noticed an unexpectedly pleasant aroma and dark color
to the Yuban. I took a sip, hoping for the best and had a great sip of
coffee. What?? I must be hallucinating. I had another sip and sure
enough, it was good. I downed that cup, made another and it, too was
good. Wow. Yuban. Who knew??
Next morning, I had seven cups of my
new best friend, Yuban. I made a couple cups for my little wife and
she, too, enjoyed the Yuban.
A few days of Yuban later, our hosts
came home with their baby. After the welcome home celebration, I had a
word with the lord of the house.
He asked if we found everthing we
needed okay. I said we did and we figured out the coffee service and
were really surprised with the Yuban. "When did you figure out that
Yuban was so good?" I asked. "Oh," he said, "It's not Yuban. It's
Peet's in a Yuban can."
I stood there for a minute. Then said, "figures."
Tonight - The Homestead.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 29, 2018
Thursday, March 22, 2018
Run on! Hey, hey, hey! (REDUX)
3.4.2018. (first published this week 2003)
I've been resisting writing rants about dreams I've had because a pal once told me that he was talking to someone and that person started talking about a dream she'd had and it pissed him off to no end. He didn't give a shit, he told me, what his friend's dream was about. Not one little shit. Well you know what? He don't got a computer anymore, so fuck him. Here ya go: Here's a rant about a dream I had last week. And if you're not careful, you might learn something before it's done.
I had a dream that I was at work and I got up to get a cuppa coffee. I walked to the little kitchen down the hall and found the coffee carafe was fuckin' empty. (Big surprise: It's really hard to dump the used grinds, drop in a new filter and open a pre-measured coffee pouch. So hard that I'm sure it's beyond the capability of most of the fuckin' jerks here that also manage to litter and not flush.) So, as I am capable of making a freshy, I did. Then I waited for the sumbitch to brew. As it was nearing half-way, I hijacked the coffee: I deftly removed the carafe from the steamy stream and placed my cup beneath, then I filled my cup with the concentrated coffee in the carafe. Another slick move and the carafe was once again on the hotplate, beneath the drip. I've come to call this a "ballsy" coffee. It's got a full carafe's concentration of coffee in one cup. I perform this trick enough that I dream about it.
So I walked back to my desk. I got a dozen or so steps down the hall and thought that my roommate might want a cup of coffee. He does enjoy a ballsy cup. I stopped, looked at my coffee cup and thought about it. Then I decided, "Fuck him." Right then, in the dream, I had a cerebral hemorrhage and died. I mean it. An artery blew up in my brain and I croaked. Instantly I was in hell and the devil said, "Hmm. Mebbe you should oughta gotten yr roommate a cup of that ballsy coffee." I thought, shit. Mebbe the old guy is right. That was a darn selfish thing of me to have done. Then, y'know, I romped around in hell and eventually woke up.
So in REAL LIFE, the next day, I hijacked me a cup of ballsy coffee and hijacked one for my roommate. Set it down for him, he said, "thanks. Is it ballsy?" I said sure. Then I looked right at the camera and winked.
Tonight - House of Shields (by request)
10 convenient paces from BART/MUNI.
"Get out of those wet clothes and into a dry Martini."
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I've been resisting writing rants about dreams I've had because a pal once told me that he was talking to someone and that person started talking about a dream she'd had and it pissed him off to no end. He didn't give a shit, he told me, what his friend's dream was about. Not one little shit. Well you know what? He don't got a computer anymore, so fuck him. Here ya go: Here's a rant about a dream I had last week. And if you're not careful, you might learn something before it's done.
I had a dream that I was at work and I got up to get a cuppa coffee. I walked to the little kitchen down the hall and found the coffee carafe was fuckin' empty. (Big surprise: It's really hard to dump the used grinds, drop in a new filter and open a pre-measured coffee pouch. So hard that I'm sure it's beyond the capability of most of the fuckin' jerks here that also manage to litter and not flush.) So, as I am capable of making a freshy, I did. Then I waited for the sumbitch to brew. As it was nearing half-way, I hijacked the coffee: I deftly removed the carafe from the steamy stream and placed my cup beneath, then I filled my cup with the concentrated coffee in the carafe. Another slick move and the carafe was once again on the hotplate, beneath the drip. I've come to call this a "ballsy" coffee. It's got a full carafe's concentration of coffee in one cup. I perform this trick enough that I dream about it.
So I walked back to my desk. I got a dozen or so steps down the hall and thought that my roommate might want a cup of coffee. He does enjoy a ballsy cup. I stopped, looked at my coffee cup and thought about it. Then I decided, "Fuck him." Right then, in the dream, I had a cerebral hemorrhage and died. I mean it. An artery blew up in my brain and I croaked. Instantly I was in hell and the devil said, "Hmm. Mebbe you should oughta gotten yr roommate a cup of that ballsy coffee." I thought, shit. Mebbe the old guy is right. That was a darn selfish thing of me to have done. Then, y'know, I romped around in hell and eventually woke up.
So in REAL LIFE, the next day, I hijacked me a cup of ballsy coffee and hijacked one for my roommate. Set it down for him, he said, "thanks. Is it ballsy?" I said sure. Then I looked right at the camera and winked.
Tonight - House of Shields (by request)
10 convenient paces from BART/MUNI.
"Get out of those wet clothes and into a dry Martini."
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 15, 2018
Get Yr Hot Ass Over Here (REDUX)
3.3.2018 (first posted this week 2003)
Last Ten Songs Played On 96.5 KOIT
Most Recent on Top
1 (You'Re My) Soul And Inspira - Righteous Brothers
2 Will You Still Love Me - Chicago
3 (Everything I Do) I Do It Fo - Bryan Adams
4 Biggest Part Of Me - Ambrosia
5 This Kiss - Faith Hill
6 Somewhere Out There - Linda Ronstadt/James Ingram
7 Too Much Heaven - Bee Gees
8 Nobody Knows - Tony Rich Project
9 Layla (Unplugged) - Eric Clapton
10 The Greatest Love Of All - Whitney Houston
Are you fucking kidding me? Whitney Houston? ROCK? Sure the KOIT qualifies itself as "Lite" rock, but "rock" nontheless. Whitney Houston ain't lite rock. GnR's "Sweet Child of Mine" is lite rock. A lot of the shtuff that Radiohead has put out lately is lite rock. Whitney's entire artistic catalog has nothing to do with rock. It has everything to do with B A D P O P M U S I C. POP stands for POPular. Some rock is popular, but it ain't pop. Some pop, like Whitney's, ain't nothing but pop. But back to cunt. Garrrth Brooks and that jackass who sang "Achey Breaky Ass" or whatever fucked up cunt. That shit's there's the Whitney Houston pop songs. Not cunt. Hank Williams Sr. is the real mccoy. As is Johnny Cash, Big Sandy, The Knitters, Patsy Cline, Jon Wayne, Waylon, Willie and lots of others. It's too bad that these days claiming to be a country music fan automatically labels you as a big dumb jerk. Aaagh. Tonight we're going to a joint that has a great juke. It has lite rock and regular rock. Real (Jesus Lizard) Rock. We ain't been there for a while.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I had a rant going about why I didn't rant about the fucking war and I started ranting about the fucking war. That's fucked up. Had a chance to pull out so I did. I may post the non-rant fucking war rant later but it pisses me off thinking about it. The fucking war. Pisses me off thinking about the fucking war. So today's Venue Announcement rant won't be about the fucking war. It'll be about Country Music. (I'll call it cunt for short.) I've come to realise that cunt is just like "rock." It's too broad a category. Witness the last ten shitty songs played by a "rock" station here in SF:
Last Ten Songs Played On 96.5 KOIT
Most Recent on Top
1 (You'Re My) Soul And Inspira - Righteous Brothers
2 Will You Still Love Me - Chicago
3 (Everything I Do) I Do It Fo - Bryan Adams
4 Biggest Part Of Me - Ambrosia
5 This Kiss - Faith Hill
6 Somewhere Out There - Linda Ronstadt/James Ingram
7 Too Much Heaven - Bee Gees
8 Nobody Knows - Tony Rich Project
9 Layla (Unplugged) - Eric Clapton
10 The Greatest Love Of All - Whitney Houston
Are you fucking kidding me? Whitney Houston? ROCK? Sure the KOIT qualifies itself as "Lite" rock, but "rock" nontheless. Whitney Houston ain't lite rock. GnR's "Sweet Child of Mine" is lite rock. A lot of the shtuff that Radiohead has put out lately is lite rock. Whitney's entire artistic catalog has nothing to do with rock. It has everything to do with B A D P O P M U S I C. POP stands for POPular. Some rock is popular, but it ain't pop. Some pop, like Whitney's, ain't nothing but pop. But back to cunt. Garrrth Brooks and that jackass who sang "Achey Breaky Ass" or whatever fucked up cunt. That shit's there's the Whitney Houston pop songs. Not cunt. Hank Williams Sr. is the real mccoy. As is Johnny Cash, Big Sandy, The Knitters, Patsy Cline, Jon Wayne, Waylon, Willie and lots of others. It's too bad that these days claiming to be a country music fan automatically labels you as a big dumb jerk. Aaagh. Tonight we're going to a joint that has a great juke. It has lite rock and regular rock. Real (Jesus Lizard) Rock. We ain't been there for a while.
The word KOIT, whether it's the radio station or the tower or that creepy pervert lady, makes me think of the word coitus. Thought I'd share that. Bring yr pals. I will. See you the
Tonight - Phone Booth.
**CASH ONLY**bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 08, 2018
Frontwards
3.2.2018
I have never understood trendy fashion. I understand that if you see someone wearing something that catches your fancy, you might seek that thing out for yourself. I can't see, however, seeing guy after guy, gal after gal that look the same from head to toe and saying, "looking like that fucker is the look I've been looking for!"
We have two fashion trends in this hole we call LA these days: The aging of the urban male hipster and the "Patagonia Parka Person."
The aging urban male hipster is the 30-something and sometimes the "late-adopter" 40-something variety of the man with work boots, cuffed jeans, wallet chain, plaid shirt and a trucker cap (meshed back). On my short ride to work just the other day I saw three of them. One crossing the street, one on a typical fixtee single-speed bike and the other simply standing there. All looked identical but for the color and "weave" of the plaid and the ironic image on their trucker hat. All of them were also looking down at their phones. I don't see too many people on the streets and sidewalks, so to have three clones in the small sample indicates saturation.
Then there's the new status of the "Patagonia Parka Person." Here is what I'm talking about:
I suppose it's more of a jacket, but I like the sound of "Patagonia Parka Person" better.
These jacket have exploded in popularity. I have seen every other person wearing them. They come in a variety of colors, so I guess there's some choice involved, but no one's choosing any other style of jacket. Everyone on Venice Beach, everyone at the Little League park, and even every one at the Grand Yosemite Hotel had a Patagonia parka like the one pictured. I'm sure it's warm and well-made but why have something everyone else has? That has always bugged me.
What ever happened to individual style? I know I'm far removed from being stylish, but I like to think I march to the beat of my own drum. I didn't nick the "baggy camo shorts, black sox and black T shirt from anyone. I just evolved into it. And hey, I'm not stuck in a morass of always looking the same in my baggy camo shorts and black T shirt, that, too is evolving! I'm now sporting "desert camo," or, "snow camo," instead of just woodland camo and T shirts with colors like navy blue and dark green to go with them. Viva la change!
I have never understood trendy fashion. I understand that if you see someone wearing something that catches your fancy, you might seek that thing out for yourself. I can't see, however, seeing guy after guy, gal after gal that look the same from head to toe and saying, "looking like that fucker is the look I've been looking for!"
We have two fashion trends in this hole we call LA these days: The aging of the urban male hipster and the "Patagonia Parka Person."
The aging urban male hipster is the 30-something and sometimes the "late-adopter" 40-something variety of the man with work boots, cuffed jeans, wallet chain, plaid shirt and a trucker cap (meshed back). On my short ride to work just the other day I saw three of them. One crossing the street, one on a typical fixtee single-speed bike and the other simply standing there. All looked identical but for the color and "weave" of the plaid and the ironic image on their trucker hat. All of them were also looking down at their phones. I don't see too many people on the streets and sidewalks, so to have three clones in the small sample indicates saturation.
Then there's the new status of the "Patagonia Parka Person." Here is what I'm talking about:
I suppose it's more of a jacket, but I like the sound of "Patagonia Parka Person" better.
These jacket have exploded in popularity. I have seen every other person wearing them. They come in a variety of colors, so I guess there's some choice involved, but no one's choosing any other style of jacket. Everyone on Venice Beach, everyone at the Little League park, and even every one at the Grand Yosemite Hotel had a Patagonia parka like the one pictured. I'm sure it's warm and well-made but why have something everyone else has? That has always bugged me.
What ever happened to individual style? I know I'm far removed from being stylish, but I like to think I march to the beat of my own drum. I didn't nick the "baggy camo shorts, black sox and black T shirt from anyone. I just evolved into it. And hey, I'm not stuck in a morass of always looking the same in my baggy camo shorts and black T shirt, that, too is evolving! I'm now sporting "desert camo," or, "snow camo," instead of just woodland camo and T shirts with colors like navy blue and dark green to go with them. Viva la change!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 01, 2018
Wing-in-Ground
3.1.2018
So imagine that you're buying a car and you tell the salesman that you don't want a racing fin on your new Jeep and she says it doesn't come with a racing fin, and upon delivery it's got a god damned racing fin on it.
Or imagine that you're buying a box of used LEGOs on eBay and you say you don't want any K'Nex and the seller says there's no K'Nex in the box only to find on delivery that there are a bunch of god damned K'Nex blocks in the box.
If you can understand the feeling of the two scenarios above, you might understand my fury regarding my sandwich order at Big Mike's the other day.
I asked the lady, "what comes on the Atlantic City Hoagie?"
She said, "onions, tomato, provolone, Salami, Soppresata, Prosciutto ... "
I stopped her there.
I asked, "may I have a small with no lettuce, please?"
She said, 'it doesn't come with lettuce."
I said, "great! Small wrapped to go but we're going to eat here, please."
She said okay.
A few minutes later my small to go came, I unwrapped it and quickly discovered there was god damn shredded lettuce all over the thing. I scraped it off with a fork, but once lettuce touches bread, it's always there.
I just shook my head at how stupid it is. "No lettuce, please." "Ain't got none on it." "Great."
Then: Lettuce.
Tonight - Doc's Clock - CASH ONLY
Also, be sure to kick down some corn to be part of moving the historic sign:
https://www.gofundme.com/docsclock
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
So imagine that you're buying a car and you tell the salesman that you don't want a racing fin on your new Jeep and she says it doesn't come with a racing fin, and upon delivery it's got a god damned racing fin on it.
Or imagine that you're buying a box of used LEGOs on eBay and you say you don't want any K'Nex and the seller says there's no K'Nex in the box only to find on delivery that there are a bunch of god damned K'Nex blocks in the box.
If you can understand the feeling of the two scenarios above, you might understand my fury regarding my sandwich order at Big Mike's the other day.
I asked the lady, "what comes on the Atlantic City Hoagie?"
She said, "onions, tomato, provolone, Salami, Soppresata, Prosciutto ... "
I stopped her there.
I asked, "may I have a small with no lettuce, please?"
She said, 'it doesn't come with lettuce."
I said, "great! Small wrapped to go but we're going to eat here, please."
She said okay.
A few minutes later my small to go came, I unwrapped it and quickly discovered there was god damn shredded lettuce all over the thing. I scraped it off with a fork, but once lettuce touches bread, it's always there.
I just shook my head at how stupid it is. "No lettuce, please." "Ain't got none on it." "Great."
Then: Lettuce.
Tonight - Doc's Clock - CASH ONLY
Also, be sure to kick down some corn to be part of moving the historic sign:
https://www.gofundme.com/docsclock
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
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