Veggiestein

Last night for Hinduzilla's (thus named for his hinduism as well as propensity to swipe helicopters out of the sky and breathe radioactiveness on buildings) birthday we went to Vegetarian's Paradise 2. I was immediately struck by the large menu, that had many food choices...there was chicken dishes, beef, seafood, duck. But how could this be? Dynamo and I, in a show of our true intellect, were both perplexed every time we saw "crab" as an ingredient. Apparently, veggie-heads, as they often call each other, like to play god with their food. They take these vegetables that they so love, and create a Frankenstein like meat out of them. Soy becomes chicken nuggets, or some random protein on a sugarcane to resemble a drumstick, or slices of duck, complete with artificial skin on it. While completely indigestible by the average human body, these dishes were still rather tasty. Despite this, I think I'll remain omnivorous and get my protein the old fashioned, carnivorous way.

On Stuffing, Cranberry Sauce and Dogs

Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a Happy Thanksgiving. Look, at least I didn't say Gobble Gobble, or Happy Turkey Day. The turkeys are definitely not happy that day...but they are kind of delicious. However, I tend to flock more towards the stuffing and the homemade cranberry sauce while saving room for the endless amounts of pies that always congregate on my aunt's table. This year, my plan was no different, though the pies didn't quite fulfill my expectations for them. There was a decent pear, a really good custard, a pecan that nobody wanted to eat, and some wack cakes.

The weakness of the dessert wasn't the only surprise this past weekend though. Every year, we head to my mom's sister's house in Medfield, Massachusetts. This year, we didn't need to use any tranquilizer darts on my mom on the ride up or back down. My 16-year old cousin, who in my mind is still 5 and holding a stuffed cloud leopard named Spot, is somehow one year away from graduating and 40 pounds heavier than me. Helping him get so large is a Powertec home gym my uncle bought for him, which is sturdier than most and runs on roll bearings instead of ball bearings, or so I'm told. There's another reason it's so sturdy: it looks like it was made from rejected Caterpillar parts. I swear, it's some sort of wack Constructicon, whose alternate form would be used by Starscream behind Megatron's back to get dynamite pecs in preparation for a coup. Lastly, but definitely not least importantly, I saw no bears on their land. Not that I ever have, but what's the point of owning land if you're not going to attract bears to hang out?

On the way back, my family stopped off at Petco to get some home improvements for my sister's hamster. I looked at pets to buy, but none were large enough to properly be awesome...until I happened upon a book about Rottweilers* and read that they will follow you all around the apartment, guard your stuff with intense courage, and will help you do laundry. An ideal pet if ever I'd heard of one. Logically, I set to work preparing for when I would own one by figuring out what his ideal name would be first. For your astonishment and reading pleasure, I've listed, in no particular order, the names I'm deciding from, thought of while riding shotgun.

• Thor - Obviously, the dog will have to prove himself by being able to lift Mjolnir. Shouldn't be a problem though.
  
• Dr. Doom
• Mo
• Gideon - If he has a proclivity for ham, pirates, lusty wenches and drinking out of the toilet.
• Jasper
• Bear - This doesn't even need explaining, and is tied for #1 choice right now with the Odinson.
  
• HoJo
• Wallace - This would only work if he's a goofy dog, like a sheepdog or something.
• Dwight Freeney - I already have a plant named after him, but that doesn't make it exclusive. If my dog is the best pass rushing dog, then he too can be named after Dwight.
• Rowlf or Ralph - This is a no-brainer if he's a St. Bernard. I named my childhood stuffed dog after Rowlf from the Muppets, but couldn't pronounce it, so he got Anglicized into Ralph.
• Grizzlebee
• Green Lantern
• Spector
• Moon Knight
• Biscuit
• Steve Rogers - Rottweilers are known to be courageous. And they could probably throw a vibranium shield.
• Clint
• Nomad
• Kodiak
• Cliff - After Method Man, not Clifford the big red dog
• Slick Rick - Also not after Clifford the big red dog
• Willis - I actually forget who this would be after
  
• Shea - To honor the Mets
  
• Colossus - To honor the X-Man
  
• Hercules - To honor the ancient Greeks
  
• Jax - To honor...actually, just cause
  
• Optimus
• Jerome
• Barksdale - Avon was a Golden Gloves champ and found with grenades, among much other contraband
  
• Bismarck - I think it's a little much to expect my rottweiler to be the father of modern Germany, but he should appreciate his heritage
  
• Richter
• Marino - Favre stole his record, this may make up for it
  
• Roscoe
• Bruno
• Wyatt
• Doc
  
• Koko B. Ware - I might not be able to resist naming him this, though it'll probably get him laughed at by more legitimate dogs who will frequently get to wrestle in more important matches than him. Time has not been kind to Koko, unfortunately, but apparently, the Birdman is flying again.
  

*Those that know me know that I call them Rockwilderz and believe they can fly. I just didn't want new readers to think I was weird. But, just think about how awesome that would be, for a minute.

Who Currently Holds the Dragon Star Belt?

In speaking with DJ about his Thanksgiving day plans, I think I discovered a fundamental flaw in the way my brain works.

DJ: Yo, call me Tsunami, cause I'm going to tear up thanksgiving dinner. I've been in training, and I'm gonna hit that hard.
Me: My thanksgiving dinners are more a marathon than a sprint man. Gotta train differently. Also, call me Machine, or Superstar.
DJ: *silence*
Me: We were discussing WMAC Masters again, weren't we?

Your Mom's the Speed Limit

A couple months ago, I received a traffic violation ticket for making a left turn onto a road that was left-turn prohibited until a certain time. I didn't see the sign until I was halfway through the turn and in the middle of the intersection. Not wanting to cause an accident, and because I really wanted to go left, I made the turn. Cops immediately pulled me over and notified me of the error of my ways. Eventually, I remembered to dispute the ticket and was granted my day in court.

Thinking it best not to drive to traffic court and worrying about metal detectors and other such delays, I Q-trained it over to the DMV in Coney Island where I ended up waiting for 20 minutes. About 25 of us entered a small room that had what I assumed to be a judge and a clerk, and sat on benches. The judge would call the offenders up one by one, ask them how they plead, let the officer state their case, and if they met their burden of proof, hear the offender's defense. While waiting, I got to be entertained.

"This is my cell phone bill from T-Mobile. You'll see I made no calls during that time. This is my only bill, and I can't have made this up, since it's from T-Mobile, and I don't make their bills. It wasn't a phone in my hand, maybe she saw me scratching my ear."
"She didn't see me do anything, because the car in front of me ran the stop sign, not me, and she made a U-turn so she couldn't have seen me."
"He was following me too closely. I was fine. He should have gotten the ticket for following too close, not me," said the lady, ticketed for following the car in front too closely, about the cop who gave her the ticket. Denial's a fine defense, but when you really want to make your point, turn it back on them. No, you're the one who is guilty!!

Finally it was my turn. The lady cop who was the partner of the male cop who had given me the summons wasn't prepared to argue her case. The judge refused her motion to reschedule, since I was a first time offender and had shown up, and dismissed my case. I wonder if showing up on time always yields such positive results. Freed from charges against me, I celebrated by jaywalking all the way back to the subway.

House Happenings

On a recent trip to Home Depot, I bought a bypass lopper and an axe. Or a hatchet. Which to be honest, they shouldn't have let me buy. I love the loppers. Don't make any Cyndi Lauper jokes, because I've heard them already. I go outside with them (not Cyndi) and I've successfully attacked a mulberry tree, an out of control rose of sharon, and trimmed back my elm tree. They're addictive though; once you feel those blades slicing through wood like it was room temperature butter and you've rolled out of the way to avoid the much larger than expected falling branch, you'll never want to stop. The hatchet, on the other hand, is quite difficult to use. I've managed to chop down some smaller tree-like things, but I'm no George.* I did have a scary moment when I swung and missed, towards my left thigh, but had the presence of mind not to attack myself. Dynamo and I will be taking down the trees later, lumberjack style, probably without any self-inflicted bodily harm. Once that's done, I'll keep the hatchet around to practice my weapon throwing skills, ward off annoying super-intendants, and as a cat deterrent.

*************************************************

Dynamo's lady friend made us merguez (not mirgaz, as originally believed) last night. Merguez is a ground lamb with an exoskeleton of plastic casing, found naturally in the wild. It grows on trees and is picked in the early morning, when it's freshest. Deliciously spiced, it can be used to make just about anything that has merguez as an ingredient. Dynamo and I, being adults and all, petitioned his lady friend until she made our merguez in the shape of a bear, bison and 4 point crown, using cookie cutters which had previously been neglected. I'm now refusing to eat any ground meats unless they've been prepared in an ursine shape.


*As in, "and the cherry tree."

Cutting off my nose to spite my face

As you may have heard on the streets, my mom is really anxious to buy me a winter jacket.* I'm really anxious for her not to. I feel like it's a waste of money, as I have a jacket from 2 years ago that's still in good shape. And by this, I mean it still looks and feels like a jacket, not that it's biceps are impressive. But apparently, especially when compared to my mom and sister, I'm weird for not wanting two to three jackets for every season. I've told her that I don't even need cold weather gear, because I don't even plan on leaving my apartment this winter. I may even hibernate from early January till mid-March. I realize this means I'd miss important and sacred holidays like President's day, but I'm willing to make sacrifices. Anyway, to prove my point (and not just cause I'm lazy and couldn't find anything to do) I didn't leave the apartment Saturday nor Monday, and Sunday only left to pull weeds in the backyard. Take that, mom!

*No, I'm not some little kid letting their mom buy things for me. But I'll be damned if I don't accept handouts!

Heat Check

I think there's something wrong with our heat. More specifically, Dynamo thinks there is, and he'd know before I would. He occupies the parlor level (fancy way of saying his ass is in the basement) of our lovely duplex and relies on the warmth provided by Keyspan energy and some science I won't even pretend to understand a lot more than I do. See, there's this rebellious theory going round that heat rises, and since I occupy the deluxe/main floor, I'm not yet feeling the chill. I'm not saying my temperature's tempura, but I'm mostly comfy. When the cold does set in, I warm up the room in the most energy efficient and environmentally friendly way possible; I turn on the lights in my room, throw on my jacket and leave the apartment. It's kind of like a heating lamp for lizards, and probably what they would do, if they had opposable thumbs, and could reach my light switch.

In the meantime, despite Dynamo's constant obsession with building things out of bamboo, there have been no panda visits. Bamboo flooring, bamboo glued together to make shelves, bamboo under the bed storage, bamboo roboot(s). Not a single panda. Not even a knock on the door, or an inquiry into the availability of pandaing in our apartment. Well, there's only so much luring we can do. I think we should take advantage of the temperature disparity in the house, and instead focus on renting the icebox lower level to more amiable folks who will appreciate the lengths we went to to make them feel accommodated. That's right, it's time to get polar bears!