I have always, ALWAYS wondered why it’s okay for a man to walk around in public topless, but totally illegal for a woman to.  And why is public breastfeeding still so taboo?  Okay, I mean, maaaaaaaybe I am a little more liberal than I like to let on.  After all, I am the grown up version of a kid who marched around topless and covered in mud to “Swamp Thing” at a women’s festival.  Now, as a new mom, Iwillfeed my son whenever, where ever, and yes, that means I will bust out a *gasp* bare boob and shove it into his open, frowny mouth to stop the screaming.  But today, I heard that people are OUTraged because Rihanna wore a mesh top without a bra while she was in capital P public.  OMG, outraged, really?  Are we such an uptight bunch of tightwads that we can’t get over one pair of breasts?  Come on America.  You wouldn’t be here without a woman with breasts.    

Ack.  I am a slave to the Google machine.  We all are.  But I admit I miss when speculation fueled conversation.  When you couldn’t just look something up.  “Why is Wednesday called Hump Day?”  “Who knows, maybe back in the day it was the day humpback whales humped Humpty Dumpty.”  “No.  Wrong.  Lemme look it up on Google”…two hours later everyone is gone and you’re still on your iPhone (because you know everyone has one even the 6 year old down the street) and you STILL don’t know why it’s called Hump Day.  I don’t know if finding answers to every question I could ever imagine is actually making me more knowledgeable, but some times I wish I could forget the Internet and its offspring Google exists and I could I dunno, ask a real person for an answer.

stop getting so out-of-control-excited about stupid shit like 3-in-1 laundry sheets and scalpacin and prunes and windows and light bladder leakage.  stop.  you’re making us look bad.

listen america, let’s stop holding in our farts.  we eat the stinkiest, most fart inducing foods in the world.  most of our food smells like fart even before we eat it.  after a weekend of holding in farts generated by chicago pizza and greek food so as not to offend the nice people hosting me, i realized that it is so not worth it.  it can’t be good for you to hold them in, though i researched it, and it seems it is of no consequence to do it, but oh my goodness.  fart fart FART!

okay, so bryan and i have to work bingo once a month to raise money for the community band in which we play.  it’s fine, i actually have grown to like it.  needless to say, the types of women who dwell in such a place, are well, not like other women, at least not while they’re playing bingo.  the bingo playing woman, or BPW, is by every mean a stereotypical sort.  that being said, BPWs can be broken down into subcategories: the Matriarch, the Smiley, the Addict, and the WTF?.

the Matriarch is a champion, the thoroughbred of bingo.  she plays smart, smokes at a reasonable pace, and quits while she is ahead.  she is not there to socialize or compulsively gamble.  she’s there because that’s what she’s done every weekend of her life for 6 years, and dammit, traditions must start somewhere.  it makes sense, then, that she should have her own religious system at work whilst playing bingo.  she will set up idols (treasure trolls, ceramic angels, buddahs, money, manger scenes, stuffed animals) in specific arrangements to help with her game, as though winning is most important to her, but she will also read a Lee Childs novel or two during the games, as if she could not care less about winning.  the Matriarch takes care of her underlings, often spotting them a few 20s so they can get their gambling fix, and she knows if they win, they’ll owe her big.

the Addict is just that.  addicted to playing, smoking, gambling, and fidgeting.  her only idol is her ash tray.  she is very tidy, and rarely eats during the games.  she spends unheard of amounts on pull tabs, and wins only a fraction of it back.  she also is known to write a few bad checks, and is thankful for the ATM.

the Smiley is cute.  she too has idols, but they are scattered about, piled high, and random.  at the base of these idol piles is usually a scented candle, pie or melon scented, and a mess of food, old bingo sheets, and pull tabs.  though she is obnoxious to behold, the Smiley makes you feel welcome when you approach.  she has an ample bosom, out of which she will pull her stash of sweaty 20s, despite your disgusted facial expressions.  she smokes, in a chain link fashion, sometimes lighting up a second cigarette without finishing the first, hoping the pie scented candle will mask the odor (it doesn’t)  she eats; mainly salty, onion-heavy foods, but occasionally she will cleanse her palate with a suckable candy or another cigarette.  you get to know your Smiley BPW, and though you regret it later, you like her.

the WTF BPW has been created based on one specific person, and i hope to build on this category as i encounter more of them.  for now i shall just describe her, as the only thing better would be a picture:  age 18-26 and at least 8 months pregnant.  ultrasound on the table in idol-like manner.  plaid pj pants.  cigarette in hand, smokers all around.  budweiser shirt.  glasses.  headband.  clogs (not crocs but the old suede kind with the cork bottom and a buckle).  a writing pen, the prescription drug kind, with an ad for Yaz (the birth control pill) on it.  phew.  an OBGYN’s nightmare, planned-parenthood’s poster girl.

BPWs are not bad women.  they are mothers (or soon to be) and daughters and wives and friends.  but they do deserve to be classified and studied, and i will continue to do so as long as i work bingo.

warning:  this will be incredibly vague as the statute of limitations on this incident expired at least 5 years ago. thanks for indulging me, tumblr audience.

time to grow up and punch down this prickly wall i’ve put up around myself.  so what if my knuckles bleed in the process?  i can’t believe i have held a grudge against one person for so long.  at this point it’s humiliating enough that it is keeping me up this night and countless others; grinding my teeth with a fervor known only to those who also worry incessantly…about everything…which i do…and it’s exhausting….

i have tried many a time to relax about this particular matter; let God do his work on us so that we could come to some closure, and maybe some new beginnings.  i certainly am a Drama Queen about it all, which does not help: “ooooh poooooooor meeeeeee” and “how is no one on my side about this???” and the like.  i see it now, that no one can possibly support the feelings of a hyper-emotional person for 9 whole years.  the support crumbles and turns to, “seriously?  get a life, forget it and move on.”  i’d LOVE to do just that.  a life that involves living in the present day, not bothered by scabbed-over grudges that are picked at until raw and sore sounds disgustingly care-free.

but at this point, after so much time has passed and the animosity continues, i do not know how to make it right.  do i talk to her face to face?  OH GOD!  i’ve never been more afraid of being rejected as i am when i think of doing this.  do i send a long letter explaining myself, or a short one saying, “i am so so so regretful of my actions, please forgive me?” clearly i am too long-winded for that.

it’s not like i even really did anything, but my reactions to her actions, i admit, were not compatible.  though i have tried, since infiltrating her city and her band and her family’s friends, to show absolutely no one that we had issues, it somehow was leaked to the whole city/band/friends and the tables were turned.  i was suddenly the bakemono, and i was given VIP passes to being hated based on speculation and according to rumors…by people i didn’t even know.  harsh, Karma.

so it is clearly time to let it go.  no more annual posts like this, saying i’ll do it and then totally NOT doing it.  that’s lame, and cheating.  if you talk to me 3 weeks after reading this and i’m still a crumundgendy grudgendy, kick my ass, please and thank you.

i think it would be nice if all juice that is manufactured today could be 100% fruit juice.  the amount of sugar in these tasty beverages is stunning, and rather unnecessary.  is fruit not sweet?  would they not be more delicious if the remaining 89% was also “juice” and not some mutant flavors that have no business brewing in our drinks?  come on, Obama.  it’s time for some serious change.  get to it.

mrsmcscoots:

okay.  I’ve wanted to talk about my trial for some time now, but all that legal mumbo-jumbo and the fact that I just don’t know how to give this ridiculous circumstance the sarcastic justice it deserves, has gotten in my way.  So now that’s it is done, settled, and put behind me….I will do my best:

Once upon a time, 3 1/2 long years ago, I left work and was driving to the hardware store for paint.  Slow moving, coming out of a light, a minivan stopped in the middle of the road.  As I pounded the brake, I tapped her rear-side.  I waved her into the parking lot and like a scene from the circus, a bunch of her children started to pile out.  I asked if everyone was okay/wearing seat belts, I insisted on calling for a police report against her wishes, and sat patiently for the cop.  The kids start carrying multi-gallon buckets to the nearby aquarium store to pick up salt water for their salt water fish tank. *enter any joke about owning a saltwater tank here* A couple things were said by my bleached-haired-denim-jean-vest-wearing plaintiff: “ah man, I just fixed my van from another accident and I have neck/back troubles”, “ah man, I didn’t realize I was hit, I thought my kid kicked me in the back of the seat”, “ah man, I don’t want a police report, it takes too long.”  ::sigh:: With no real damages to the vehicles and no physical injuries, the cop let us go without ticketing.

Fast forward to present day, I’m being sued for $50,000 worth of medical bills, physical damage, & pain and suffering. WHAT!?!  ah yes…to put that into perspective…That amount could buy an 80ft yacht, or be used for a 44% downpayment on my neighbor’s house!!  So I found out that I needed to show up in a downtown Chicago court to have this case put before a judge and a 12 man jury, 4 days previous.  (During these four days I had to report to jury duty in St. Louis and a water pipe broke in our basement’s ceiling, filling the area with 2 inches of water)  Wonderful timing.

So northward I head and hopped the train to lovely Chicago.  Walked to the court house in Daley Plaza, and to make this part short…I found out that I was practically the only defense that our side had.  My words.  Moreover, I was unable to state in court half of my deposition because, 1. there was no evidence, that the plaintiffs presented, that proved that she was in a previous car accident and had previous injuries (surprisingly convenient) and 2.  I or the responding police office could not comment on the conditions of the vehicles because we are neither experts in the field of automobile appraisals.  So pretty much, if we even hint that, “no damage, no injury” there is a mistrial and we would have to do this whole trial over again.   Another funny thing that was brought up by the plaintiff, was that she was claiming that I stated that I was “late for work and in a hurry”.  What a Lie.

As I collected my things to head back south to the suburbs, I was told by my lawyer that one of the only things that we can hope for is that, “the jury likes me”.  The plaintiff had an unlikeable stench about her, and I on the other hand was educated, well spoken, and ‘likeable’.  ::sigh::  My only hope.

The next day was pretty quick.  We thankfully settled the case.  My insurance company agreed to pay $14,000-$17,000 to each plaintiff plus another $4,000 each for their ‘pain & suffering’.  So a total of $39,000 to settle & close the case.

In conclusion, I am thankful that it was settled.  I am glad that I didn’t have stay in Chicago having to go to court everyday, possibly staying 3-4 days after what they first predicted.  Although, one thought has provoked my mind since I was told I needed to appear….  What A Waste of Time And Money.  Not only my time and my money, but the tax payers money, the judge and juries’ time, the lawyer’s time, even the plaintiff’s time.  What a waste of the people who think that they can casually sue someone for something so insignificant…something that was obviously an accident!  I was not malicious in my actions.  I did not come after them out of spite or revenge, or in any kind of force mind you.  I was recently in a major car accident on a highway which totaled both cars involved, put me into an ER, and refused me a week of work.  Am I suing them?  NO.  Because there is karma in this world and there was no need.  It was an accident.  There was nothing that could have been done.

This plaintiff got away with 39Grand. How sad.  Through America’s court system and laws already in place, I was refused say in my case and had to rely on my physical appearance to defend myself.  How sad.  That some American lawyers believe that ambulance chasing (in this case, there was no ambulance) is a tactful thing to do.  How sad.  That this case was even brought up. How sad.  How thankful I am that we had a good insurance that would have taken care of all expenses and risk.

Lesson to us all:

1.  Make sure that you have a high enough coverage to pay for medical, property, and legal costs.  Because if something does happen…you might have to pay that $50,000 out of your own pocket.

2.  Don’t waste your karma points on something so small and trivial.  You’re going to need those points someday.  Ask yourself, is this worth it?

3.  Don’t hit anyone.  Back to kindergarten basics, I know

And a question that I must ask the heaven’s after about 600 miles between St. Louis to Chicago and back, 4 hours train travel + cost of tickets, at least the cost of 4 meals, having to reschedule jury duty, postponing needed work on flooded basement, missing my husband and pug, feeling the anxiety of being sued, time talking to lawyers and giving depositions…where’s my $4,000 in pain & suffering?

Oh! to finish off the week, yesterday I noticed that someone was in my car overnight.  They actually opened my door, rummaged through my glove box leaving all the papers, receipts, and napkins on the seats.  After finally realizing that I had no iPod, CDs, or phone to steal…they took all my quarters out of my cup holder.  ::sigh::  The state of the human race, indeed.

Dogs should rule the world.

these sweet places will have to suffice…..i love food.

pokpok

About Pok Pok: We are a restaurant serving food found at restaurants, pubs, homes and the streets of Southeast Asia with the majority of the food coming from Thailand, and specifically from the North and Northeast of Thailand. Our menu changes seasonally, monthly or at whim. We do not serve staples like Phat Thai or Penang Curry, but the food we do serve is very accessible to most people. We use local product when possible and practical. We do not use MSG. While we are not specifically vegetarian friendly, all our vegetarian dishes are either vegan or can be made vegan, and there are usually about a half dozen of those on the menu.

FYI: Our drinking water is flavored with Pandanus leaf, as is done often in Northern Thailand, which gives it that toasted rice/vanilla/grassy flavor. This is one of the most often asked questions we get.

voodoo doughnut

Kenneth “Cat Daddy” Pogson and Tres Shannon have been friends for awhile. They always wanted to start a business together. Something that would fit into an extraordinary Portland business climate. Something fun, different, and one for the ages. After much searching under rocks, tequilas, and women’s blouses, they found what they were looking for… doughnuts!!

Cat Daddy with his stunningly brilliant business sense, and Tres with his seemingly endless supply of connections, set forth to conquer Old Town, Portland, and the world!!

After a meeting with some Armenians and drumming masters, they were ready to set up shop in the “crotch” of Portland —- Old Town.
There was only one problem, neither Cat Daddy nor Tres had ever made doughnuts before!

They set out for the sunny Los Angeles suburb of Pico Rivera, California, where they met up with some doughnut masters, and learned about doughnuts from the ground up. These old, grizzled doughnut veterans knew what they were doing and were barely willing to give up their trade secrets at first. But the charm and good looks of our Portland heroes eventually won over the doughnut masters, and the secrets were revealed to them.

Learning when to throw the flour, proper handling of a rolling pin, the intricacies of an old fashion, the “flip,” and countless other tricks of the trade were now in the hands, minds, and notebooks of Cat Daddy and Tres.

They returned to Portland regaling the locals with tales of Brad Pitt eating one of their early maple bars, a Chick Hearn memorial documented on Japanese Television, featuring Voodoo Doughnuts, and the wild, wild, times of California — artists, actors, washed up sports stars, old people, disillusioned tourists, and musicians.
Ah California… Portland soon learned of these tricks and Voodoo Doughnut became the best tasting doughnuts in the world, chico!!

After flying in some “Voodoo Oil” from down south, acquiring the nuts and bolts of their shop, the boys started tinkering around with their methods that soon became known locally, nationally, and worldwide.

People have talked about Voodoo Doughnut in Tibet, on Easter Island, Japan has some stylish folks sporting the latest Voodoo underpants, and friends have shared a buttermilk bar in Tanzania. I’m sure some corners of the globe have yet to be penetrated.
Stay tuned!

carnegie deli

The Carnegie Deli, one of NYC’s culinary landmarks, opened in 1937 in midtown Manhattan across from Carnegie Hall as a 40 seat restaurant.  When the original owners retired in 1976, the deli was taken over by a new restaurant group, specifically Milton Parker, who was known as the CPM - Corned Beef and Pastrami Maven. Now in its third generation of owners, the deli is still family owned and operated by Marian Levine, Milton Parker’s daughter and her husband Sandy Levine, affectionately known as MBD. (Married Boss’s Daughter).

Popular New York Times critic Mimi Sheraton really put Carnegie Deli on the map when on March 2, 1979; she named the Carnegie Deli’s Pastrami Sandwich the #1 pastrami in New York City against 22 other delis. Thirty years later, in September 2009, Dr. Phil said on his show, “The Carnegie Deli makes the best sandwiches in the world. If you come to New York, you NEED to go to the Carnegie Deli….the food is SPECTACULAR!” The lines that began that day are still formed today and we still pride ourselves on having the best cured meats in town!

The Carnegie Deli cures, pickles and smokes our own meat at our factory in Carlstadt, New Jersey. This sets us apart from the OTHER delis. Our world famous cheesecake is also baked on premises and shipped from coast to coast. We have been featured in countless television and film productions and are proud that we are still acknowledged for having the best pastrami in town.

This year we celebrated our 72nd birthday or the equivalent of 5.54 bar mitzvah’s!  From our humble beginnings as a 40-seat deli, we have tripled in size to the thriving operation we are today, The Carnegie Deli is an authentic New York deli that others often try to imitate, but can never duplicate!