Everyone knows that the best part of Thanksgiving is the abundance of fixings and sides. Mashed potatoes, home-made stuffing, green bean casserole, that omni-present pot of rice, veggies, gravy-covered everything. Delsih. The second best thing, of course, is the leftover Thanksgiving sandwich you eat that night and in the ensuing days. All of which makes my breakfast choice even more disappointing: leftover butternut squash. It sounded like a good idea, even kicked it up with some extra butter and cinnamon. Sadly I learned the hard way that butternut squash can not stand alone. While a solid contributor to any epic culinary spread, it thoroughly shall remain a part of Thanksgiving’s supporting cast. It will give you solid D, dive for loose balls and even drain the occasional clutch 3. But you can’t build a franchise around butternut squash, nor can you start your day with it.

That’s it folks. I’ll be on hiatus for a while as this boy is westbound and outta sight for the next couple of days. Taking a trip to lovely San Francisco to visit my friend’s K & A, check out some higher learning, play with baby seals and chomp all the sour dough I can handle. Heck I might even check out one of those fancy bath houses that are all the rage. No Cal or bust!

Kiss of Death

Came across this the other day. Very disturbing seeing as PB & Js are the lifeblood of most youngsters I know. Plus Reese’s Peanut butter Cups, Snickers, and the Crunch n Munch/Fiddle Faddle/Cracker Jack triumvirate so delish. And what’s more American than eating shelled peanuts while watching a baseball game?

I don’t know what it is, but this peanut allergy trend is becoming almost pandemic. Supposedly 1.5 million Americans. I never really heard of it, save within the last 10 years or so, but The Jule is a teacher and says that it’s pretty standard issue to have a Peanut Free Zone. (What’s next outlawing soda machines from schools and eliminating gym class?) Ludicrous I know right? But if anything we are a litigious society.

It definitely seems to be a recent phenomenon. In that regards it is similar to how history shows Alzheimer’s to be a direct result of post industrialization. And what may have triggered this outbreak of extreme legume aversion? My money’s on the Internet. A far reaching theory, but it’s got to be something.

Anyways I have become quite familiar with food allergies in the past few years. I found out that I am part lactard, but have hitched my wagon to Lactaid and once again am basking in the glory of yogurt and cheese with reckless abandon. I’ve also had the (mis)fortune to date a few gals with food allergies. Seafood, various fruits and the like. And while it’s nothing to really laugh about, I think I almost put my ex in a coma after I ate 6 bacon wrapped scallops, followed by a session of heavy making out. Moral of the story: still not a role model. Oh and learn how to use an Epi-pen.

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas...

Just kicked off the holiday season in style and officially joined the masses of Christmas shoppers. The first holiday Newbury sojourn of the season. Not a whole lot of shopping though, just a scouting trip and simply taking the splendor in.

The trees festooned with white lights, holiday music coming from every direction, DD and Starbucks serving up their respective eggnog lattes, even the panhandlers seemed to be in a better mood. Hmm... didn't hear any Salvation Army bells, I'll have to check out a less posh area this week for that. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I adore holiday shopping. As long as it's not the day after Thanksgiving, I don't mind it at all. Well I guess that because my game plan tends to eschew malls in favor of little shops and boutiques. Sure it could be a bit pricier, but no one wants another set of Bath & Body Work's scented bath oils. Bonuses include not fighting for a mall parking spot, less children in my general vicinity and being greeted with a smile by the cutest employee as I take off my scarf and mittens. And most importantly instead of food court Chinese I can stop for hot mulled cider and bowls of Pho the size of my head. You will not break me harsh winter air!

And while I'm in the holiday mood what's wrong with self-gratification? Can't start shopping for anyone else if all I can think of is those kicks. But I've been eyeing them for a while. Plus they will be one of a kind and for a limited time only. Dammit I pay my taxes! I don't have to explain myself. Mmmm... Mongolian BBQ, Puma style.

The day of Thaksgivng eve and all through the office...

A bitter-sweet moment, as today is my some-what mentor's last day at work. He's off to live the dream and fight the good fight. He'll be greeted with a real Mile-High Salute and the warm applause of lucky future coworkers. To bigger and better...

I'm thankful to be going home to a wonderful family that will surely have, yet another, epic holiday spread laid out before me. All the trimmings, fixings one would associate and a never-ending supply of pies to push the gastronomical envelope just a bit further.

I'm thankful for my own little space of salvation: extra roomy, by the window and away from everyone. Where I can sit around barefoot and hammer away on this little blog. Well, almost time to head home, to the land of Pilgrims and cranberries. And for those of you who enjoy the Ocean Spray canned cranberry sauce, check the can because that's where I'm from. So be thankful for having me in your life, because without knowing me Thanksgiving just wouldn't be the same.

Dinner for Five (plus one)

You know if this whole copywriter thing doesn't work out I could really see myself getting into party planning. Well maybe not epic galas or anything, but quaint dinner parties I can handle. So maybe at home catering courtesy of Quan's World or even a little seaside B&B.

Yeah the dinner party with the work crew went off quite smashingly tonight. I am so proud. Maybe it's the Martha Stewart in me, but it was soooo much fun. From appetizer to dessert, quite the smorgashborg. We started out with V's taco dip, veg style and then we moved onto CK's fantastic salad. [Tangent Alert]I don't know what it is, but I'll never be able to master the fine art of salad-making. Maybe it's because I never really grew up around this so-called rabbit food, my diet consisting of rice 4 days out of the week and all. And it's not because I don't enjoy vegetables, I love pretty much all food except for the select 5 items that repulse me to know end. I have never been, and don't see myself any day soon, being a quality salad-maker. Now my buddy Matt, his salads are works of art. The crouton to cheese to dressing ratio is stupendous. All sitting on a lovely base of cukes, romaine/iceberg, carrots and cherry tomatoes. The master. But CK really gave him a run for his money and The Jule is an extraordinaire in her own right. Moving on to non-salad talk... [Longest tangent ever]. So CK played sous chef (ap daap for those in the know) masterfully. Jammer and V manned the grill, i.e. Jammer grilled V watched and dutifully supplied him with beverages while I was in charge of the main course. I took a page out of AK's book and went with the chicken and smoked Gouda farfalle. The irony of taking a lady friend's recipe and then co-opting it for my own Dinner Date Package #2 come dinner gathering is astounding and not lost on me at the least. Delish. And of course the vino was flowing liberally through the night. Just enough to have that happy, candle-lit extra bit of ambiance. And to top it all off we had a birthday ice cream cake for Jam's 23rd, the younging.

So all in all a fantastic night. Making some work friend's more like normal friends. Here's to seeing you guys in about 9 hours and making everyone jealous with fantastic leftovers. Cheers!

Happy Birthday to all you Scorpios

Crisp

You'll never catch me huddled outside of a bar, hands shivering, hurriedly feeding any nicotine fix. But as soon as the temperature begins to drop, there's nothing better than the first clove cigarette of the season. I don't know what it is, but the near freezing night really lends itself to smoking. When every inhale is met with a sharp sting of cold air and every exhale lingers just a little bit longer as my warm breath mixes with the nighttime air. The near frigid night enchants me to smoke. The sweetness that lingers on my lips, the pleasant mix of cinnamon in the air, and that ever-so light-headed feeling I get as head back inside. I like that.

Bio-dome'd

I think I found my new inspiration. Working the life of a cubicle monkey (for now) it is with great luck (and much teeth gnashing) that I finangled a window seat. And if I tuck myself behind the part of my desk that juts out ever so, in between the window sill and support beam, I have my own little office oasis. It's my space that no one else gets to see. On a sunny day like today I look out and can see past the parking lot, past the Pike and there's nothing but blue sky. And as I'm looking a little bit closer I notice that last night's rain has gathered atop the roof of the skywalk and has formed a flowing stream. Being inside my climate controlled cube leaves little to the imagination but at least I have my respite when I need it.

What is my major malfunction?

So no matter how many times I do it, things never go according to plan. Sometimes I try to be spontaneous. Casual. Spur of the moment. Other times I plan it out. Know what I'm going to say and act it out. What I'm talking about is calling Girl. Girl is the ubiquitous girl. Girl from class. Girl from the bar. Girl with the red backpack riding the 71. Etc., etc. The first time drives me nuts. Personal interaction. No problem. Getting the number. Half the battle. Laying pipe. Yeah... eventually, hopefully. But calling? I revert back to the chubby, awkward, pre-contacts version of myself. I don't get it.

I always hype it up and call at semi-random times. Can't call on the hour, that's when television happens. Can't call on the half hour, I'll just hit the snooze and put it off. So it's usually at 17 past or 22 till. Don't question the madness.

The more I think about it, I'm not really nervous about talking to Girl, it's more of the actual calling. I don't have the best phone persona. Definitely not as cool as the wind in my hair, fly by the seat of my pants persona. Witty asides just don't seem to telecommunicate well for me.

Anyways with a little prodding from The Jule I pulled the trigger at 9:04 and... VOICEMAIL. Hmm... didn't see that coming. Bumbled through my usual repoire of actually attempting to carry on a conversation with the VM. For a good time, next time I call you don't answer and you'll experience it all for yourself.

Point of the story: I am not a role model.

Do as I say, not as I do

Without question the novelty of training someone has lost its luster. I’m not talking about an underling, a protégée or even a lovely assistant, but just another writer who’ll be working alongside me. sigh…

I was alone. I was all by myself. No one was looking... I was thinking of you....

I could get used to living by myself. Don't get me wrong, I love the Roommates, but there's something to be said for walking around in just my flip flops, a guilt-free 3 hour-block of Laguna Beach watching and leaving my dishes/books out all over the place. Oh and sometimes the sound of absolute solitary is quite nice.

Friday: Another good thing about living sans roommate is that when you happen to turn to Saving Private Ryan and get all misty-eyed no one is around to see you. Who am I kidding? My eyes gushed like a geyser. But you show me someone who doesn't get a little choked up when Mrs. Ryan receives those three telegrams and I'll show you a kraut-chomping, heat-of-stone rat bastard. (My list of personal movie tear jerkers is a great idea for a future column though). Which made for a great moment for E to call me about going out.

"Are you ok? Did I wake you?"
"No, no I'm fine. Just watching the Celts game.... Give me half an hour, I gotta hop in the shower."
"... ok, I'll see you in a bit. Are you sure you're ok?"

Nothing like exposing your sensitive side before going out for some drinks and dancing. Yup, I'm keeping up with my monthly tradition oft dancing once, and no more than once, a month alive and kicking. This time it was with E and another girl from work. She has that Rachel Leigh Cook doe-eyed thing going for her and can be as sweet as can be, well at least until she mentions her track record. But man RLC is complete and utter eye-candy.

I know I've mentioned it before, but I get paid only once a month and today was that lucky day. BIG MONEY, BIG MONEY NO WHAMMIES! I drank (as good buddy F the T often does) enough to kill a small to medium size Asian family. (The irony of that statement is spectacular.) Long story short: an impromptu smooch with RLC, which was may or may not lead to an awkward Monday morning. But at least I got three weeks worth of material out of not taking the latest rounds of ethics training at work. There's an internal monologue debating the virtues of kissing her when I should probably be just friends, as that is what this girl totally needs. Plus being guy 7 of 14 is not something I want to deal with. But again... totally crushable.

Saturday: Stayed in. Worked on the Portfolio. Talked to L on the IM. Watched two more episodes of Coupling. But the highlight of my day was the most awe-inspiring, finger-licking good BBQ I have had. And right in my backyard to. The words sweaty, spicy and spine-tingling were all used when I called Jason, describing the epic feast that I had devoured mere moments before.

Sunday: Bonus weather is the best. An oops excuse me reacharound from Mother Nature before she drops the hammer of Winter. Mid 60's and sunny. Ran a few errands, took a walk and grabbed some Starbucks in celebration of The Jule's return home. And then it was off to the (new) Gahden to see the Celts take on my boy Yao and the Rockets. Man I didn't know that there were this many Chinese people in Boston at all. It's like they were holding the Dragon Boat festival at North Station tonight. I was in a win-win situation though: rocking the Yao jersey in support of the big man and Celts headband in support of the hometown team and my fantasy squad (the Truth and the Blunt).

The Celts ended up winning, paced by Raef's out of this world performance and a solid game by the rest of the Green. But I really worry about Yao. I know that the Rockets are coming off a back-to-back road trip, which is pretty much a guranteed loss, but this is year 4. 14-10-2 is nothing to sneeze at but he should be DOMINATING. Making the Leap. Maybe he's just saving it up for Beijing 2008, but I was really hoping he would have revolutioned the game by now. At least not get dunked on so much. I'm still in his corner. He just needs to get the Eye of the Tiger going.

Play like a champion today.

Inspired by a brief conversation I had with my best friend a few days back.

Me: Did you win today?
Him: Win? What?
Me: Yeah, did you win your day?

What does that mean exactly? Well it’s a combination of a lot of factors and while there is much overlap, no one wins their day in exactly the same manner. It's a conscious effort on your part. It's about coming up on top. Go with the flow, but take what (little) control you have and run with it.

Even before you get out of bed to brush your teeth the mood of your day is partly preordained. Not by the weather, not by the type of underwear you put on, but your very mindset. Hear me out. Good or bad, it’s important to want to win your day.

Take me for example: winning my day can be as simple as getting a compliment on my new sweater or not letting the bitch with bangs driving the ’94 Saturn cut me off in traffic. You see winning your day isn’t about the grand and the epic. It’s about the small victories. The ones that make you silently pump your fist and do the Ray Lewis-dance.

Yes I’m talking about playing like a champion. Today. And everyday.

Honestly the hottest news story I have ever read

TAMPA, Fla. (AP) - Two Carolina Panthers cheerleaders were arrested at a bar where witnesses told police the women were having sex in a restroom stall, angering patrons waiting in line.

Let's roll

There's only one sure-fire way to avoid a potentially embarrassing situation at work, due to a rowdy, inebriated, potentially lawsuit-inducing night on the town with some coworkers, and that's to get a major case of food poisoning due to some ill advised Thai food. Ugh. Being sick is never a good thing. But onto the more enjoyable account of a debaucherous weekend.

A pub crawl, that sounds like fun. Let's do that. Well this wasn't just any ordinary pub crawl but something that billed itself as the 8th Annual Sparhawk liquid Urban Tour (S.L.U.T. for short). It boiled down to a 13 leg crawl through some of Allston-Brighton's finest watering holes. From Tonic to the Green Briar and everything in between. With inebriated transportation provided by Dirty's Bucking Bronco, a makeshift schoolbus. Good times when I could break out the ol "What do you do? What do you do? Shoot the hostage" joke. Never fails.

Festivities were to kick off at 3:30 but E and I got a late start and decided the best course of action was to play catch up (brilliant!). Nothing like some Long Islands to get a pub crawl started. Oh before I go any further let me declare that the talent on display was PHENOMENAL. Dimes everywhere. 5 chicks to every 1 dude. Fantastic. Just like being back at school. And a good portion of the tank topped gals were a barely a shade over 21. Anyways E and I finally met up with good buddy S and G. S is the MD that the ladies love and G is the wildcard that always brings something to the table, essentially my only two viable wingmen in a state full of Gooses. And thanks to G I was able to rock one of those fancy t-shirts that everyone else was wearing. Team morale baby!

A litany of things happened in the course of the night's journey; fun but pretty much a blur at this point. With over 300 some odd people participating it was definitely station to station drinking tonight. I think I had a Youkillis-esque OBP night and kept up my drink to bar ratio at 1.000%. Ended up meeting up with some girls from work, always a good time. Was way to huggy with some people, but no one really minded (hence the intro to this post.) Ate some curry fries, picked up a cowboy hat along the way, think I almost got beat up by some random dudes. Meet up with the Jule, dance/sang for a bit and posed for a variety of pictures. All in all an awesome night.

E and me prior

I think she likes my shirt

these dimes were bitches and wanted me to buy them a shot

these dimes were cool

E and me on ze Dirty Bucking Bronco