"Baby You Can Drive My Car" by a guy old enough to qualify for the Tuesday Seniors' discount at Perkins?
As ODB once wisely said, "Nigga, please".
Monday, February 07, 2005
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Mystery Film
I found a roll of undeveloped used film in a suitcase last week, couldn't figure out when it was used, and sent it off to one of those cheapo mail-order developing places. I was amazed to get an email last night informing me that the photos were available online, and upon inspection, I found they were all of our trip to Barcelona last year. I'd totally forgotten that we'd taken some photos...what a nice surprise, from a great trip.
Here are a couple:
I can't wait to get back and see more of Spain. It's probably the most romantic place I've ever seen, and the food is amazing.
Here are a couple:
I can't wait to get back and see more of Spain. It's probably the most romantic place I've ever seen, and the food is amazing.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Saturday, January 29, 2005
Ice Ice Babies.
I got bored of the hotel, so I went back out to walk the city for an hour. Downtown Charlotte seems loaded with museums and arty stuff to do, but it's all closed. It's like they have no idea what to do with weather like this, so they just stay home.
I saw one enterprising bunch of guys who look like a landscaping crew using their gas-powered leaf-blowers to clear the sidewalks.
I did manage to catch this shot of a Charlotte rarity...this is the owner of one of the approximately seven snow-shovels in the city, actually using it:
...and the Checkers cancelled their game for tonite. Wusses.
I saw one enterprising bunch of guys who look like a landscaping crew using their gas-powered leaf-blowers to clear the sidewalks.
I did manage to catch this shot of a Charlotte rarity...this is the owner of one of the approximately seven snow-shovels in the city, actually using it:
...and the Checkers cancelled their game for tonite. Wusses.
Snowbound In Charlotte
I'm in Charlotte visiting the in-laws, and damned if I'm not snowed in at the hotel! In North Carolina! I was fully expecting some relatively balmy weather in the 40's & 50's. This is the view from our room at The Westin downtown:
It's Saturday afternoon, and practically the entire downtown area is closed. I guess they only have a couple plows here, so not many streets get cleared anyway.
At lunchtime, rather than go for the insanely priced room service choices, we bundled up and walked a few blocks to one of the few businesses open, Matt's Chicago Hot Dogs.
I had a "Carolina Hot Dog", which had chili, mustard, cole slaw, and seasoned salt on a steamed poppy roll:
It tasted WAY better than it looks.
Along the way, we saw maybe three other intrepid dopes on the street other than ourselves.
Last night we met up with some family at the Cricket Arena to see the Charlotte Checkers play the South Carolina Stingrays. I'd never seen minor league hockey, and it was a blast. Maybe the most amazing thing about the event was when I bought 2 hot dogs, a Coke and a beer, and only knowing hockey food prices from Devils games at The Meadowlands, I was stunned when the tab came to a mere 10 bucks and change. The Checkers lost 4-1, and play again against the Columbia Inferno tonight, weather permitting. Kimberly's brother has hooked us all up with tickets on the glass, so I hope the snow clears enough that we can find our way out there.
It's Saturday afternoon, and practically the entire downtown area is closed. I guess they only have a couple plows here, so not many streets get cleared anyway.
At lunchtime, rather than go for the insanely priced room service choices, we bundled up and walked a few blocks to one of the few businesses open, Matt's Chicago Hot Dogs.
I had a "Carolina Hot Dog", which had chili, mustard, cole slaw, and seasoned salt on a steamed poppy roll:
It tasted WAY better than it looks.
Along the way, we saw maybe three other intrepid dopes on the street other than ourselves.
Last night we met up with some family at the Cricket Arena to see the Charlotte Checkers play the South Carolina Stingrays. I'd never seen minor league hockey, and it was a blast. Maybe the most amazing thing about the event was when I bought 2 hot dogs, a Coke and a beer, and only knowing hockey food prices from Devils games at The Meadowlands, I was stunned when the tab came to a mere 10 bucks and change. The Checkers lost 4-1, and play again against the Columbia Inferno tonight, weather permitting. Kimberly's brother has hooked us all up with tickets on the glass, so I hope the snow clears enough that we can find our way out there.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Habib Koite Wednesday Night For Oxfam
Next Wednesday night, I'm working for Oxfam at the Habib Koite show at S.O.B.'s (on Varick @ West Houston). Koite is a singer-songwriter-bandleader from Mali, who is also a spokesman for Oxfam's campaign against U.S. policies that dump commodities on poor countries. His country is particularly affected by the dumping of cheaper American cotton, making it difficult for local farmers to survive, let alone compete in their own country.
From Hoite's bio:
Habib is known for his unique approach to playing the guitar. He tunes his instrument to the pentatonic scale and plays on open strings as one would on a kamale n'goni. At other times Habib plays music that sounds closer to the blues or flamenco, two styles he studied under Khalilou Traoré a veteran of the legendary Afro-Cuban band Maravillas du Mali. Unlike the griots, his singing style is restrained and intimate with varying cadenced rhythms and melodies. His supporting cast, Bamada, is an explosive super-group of West African rhythm section talent.
With one foot in the past and the other in the future, Habib Koité is an artist for a generation that has witnessed the breaking down of cultural barriers. While he respects and treasures the music of his ancestors, Habib also envisions a day when village chiefs will communicate with the world from grass-thatched huts via a computer. Habib's music proves that we do not have to forsake the past in order to develop, and that the modern world, for all of its benefits, needs to keep its links to the folklore, mythology and history of the people in order for it to retain its soul.
Short music clips here.
S.O.B.'s is always fun, and this sounds like it's gonna be a great show with a chance to inform a bunch of people.
From Hoite's bio:
Habib is known for his unique approach to playing the guitar. He tunes his instrument to the pentatonic scale and plays on open strings as one would on a kamale n'goni. At other times Habib plays music that sounds closer to the blues or flamenco, two styles he studied under Khalilou Traoré a veteran of the legendary Afro-Cuban band Maravillas du Mali. Unlike the griots, his singing style is restrained and intimate with varying cadenced rhythms and melodies. His supporting cast, Bamada, is an explosive super-group of West African rhythm section talent.
With one foot in the past and the other in the future, Habib Koité is an artist for a generation that has witnessed the breaking down of cultural barriers. While he respects and treasures the music of his ancestors, Habib also envisions a day when village chiefs will communicate with the world from grass-thatched huts via a computer. Habib's music proves that we do not have to forsake the past in order to develop, and that the modern world, for all of its benefits, needs to keep its links to the folklore, mythology and history of the people in order for it to retain its soul.
Short music clips here.
S.O.B.'s is always fun, and this sounds like it's gonna be a great show with a chance to inform a bunch of people.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
"2 Rippers, Gravy Fries, & A Medium Coke To Stay"
Kimberly just sent me a link to this guide to Jersey hot dog joints. It's a cruel joke to send me this on a day where there's 15 inches of snow in front of the car and all of New Jersey in a State Of Emergency.
I've been to a good number of these places, and it looks like their ratings are pretty acccurate as far as I'm concerned. My all time favorite, Rutt's Hutt in Clifton, scored a "5-Grease Stains" mark. I'm a fast/cheap food fanatic, and Kimberly prides herself on her ability to find some of the best/weirdest/most fun restaurants for us no matter where we travel worldwide, but I've never had a menu item as perfect as a Rutt's "ripper", their deep-fried hot dog on a steamed bun with their own special relish and mustard.
Just as cool is the fact you can eat your meal either inside their bar/lounge area served by some grizzled older local gal who'll call you "Hun", or on the other side of the building at their walkup counter where you can stand side-by-side with bikers, truckdrivers, and depending on how late it is, barely-standing-drunk-as-a-skunk ne'er-do-wells looking to treat their buzz with a dose of grease.
I was turned on to this place by my brother Ron and his intrepid pal Raul, who knows every awesome out-of-the-way place to eat between Baltimore and NYC, and west to Pittsburgh. In turn I've suggested or taken virtually everyone I know to this place, and have not had a single reaction other than "wow, this place is excellent!".
I've even turned a trip to this place into fodder for a soccer story when I was writing for NYSX.
Anyway, if I had a snowmobile or a horse-drawn sled, I'd be standing right now at the counter at Rutt's, looking through the window over snowcovered Route 21, polishing off at least two rippers and some fries. And a couple Molson drafts if someone else was driving the horses.
I've been to a good number of these places, and it looks like their ratings are pretty acccurate as far as I'm concerned. My all time favorite, Rutt's Hutt in Clifton, scored a "5-Grease Stains" mark. I'm a fast/cheap food fanatic, and Kimberly prides herself on her ability to find some of the best/weirdest/most fun restaurants for us no matter where we travel worldwide, but I've never had a menu item as perfect as a Rutt's "ripper", their deep-fried hot dog on a steamed bun with their own special relish and mustard.
Just as cool is the fact you can eat your meal either inside their bar/lounge area served by some grizzled older local gal who'll call you "Hun", or on the other side of the building at their walkup counter where you can stand side-by-side with bikers, truckdrivers, and depending on how late it is, barely-standing-drunk-as-a-skunk ne'er-do-wells looking to treat their buzz with a dose of grease.
I was turned on to this place by my brother Ron and his intrepid pal Raul, who knows every awesome out-of-the-way place to eat between Baltimore and NYC, and west to Pittsburgh. In turn I've suggested or taken virtually everyone I know to this place, and have not had a single reaction other than "wow, this place is excellent!".
I've even turned a trip to this place into fodder for a soccer story when I was writing for NYSX.
Anyway, if I had a snowmobile or a horse-drawn sled, I'd be standing right now at the counter at Rutt's, looking through the window over snowcovered Route 21, polishing off at least two rippers and some fries. And a couple Molson drafts if someone else was driving the horses.
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