reality check

me: well im in class but just wanted to say congrats

Frank: yeah, I've gotta run to class too

we're both grad students, weird

3 up, 3 down

I just canceled dinner with the Cute Girl from Class because I'm watching the Red Sox game.

And the crowd goes loco!

On behalf of Red Sox Nation...Jacoby Ellsbury we thank you!

Not only are you incredibly fun to watch (going from 1st to 3rd on liner to left field), you were also the spark plug that started our ALCS comeback over the Tribe. Next year you will probably be our starting CFer and lead off hitter. But this is how you really endear yourself to the Faithful and make a name for yourself. Next to the greatest stolen stolen base in Red Sox history, this is the one that everyone will be talking about...FREE TACOS!

If it wasn't for said stolen base, then the most exciting moment could have been the 7th inning stretch. "Wait is that what I think I hear? Yes, yes it is! That's Motown Philly!" Friggin' Boyz II Men...singing God Bless America. So weird. I was just waiting for Will Smith to come parachuting into the outfield bringing cheesesteaks to the bullpen crew.


Oh yeah, we're now up 2-0 over those cute lil' Rockies.

Two out of three ain't bad.

Growing up in small town Massachusetts, during the summer I'd fall asleep with my window open listening to the sounds of crickets, train horns and the occasional thunderstorm. Going away to college, I was serenaded with passing police sirens and the shouts of your typical gaggle of drunken 20-somethings. Eventually I got used to my respective sounds and even grew to miss them whenever I'd slumber in a different locale.

Here in San Francisco, the sounds I hear are much different.

• The sound of the trolleys riding on the tracks, straining uphill and grinding down.
• Echoing from the Pier comes the guttural sounds of sea lions at play. I had no idea what this was at first, but now that I know, it's fucking awesome.
• And if you really strain your ears, you can ever so faintly hear the intimate sounds of man on man butt loving.*

*Gay, straight, vegetable or mineral no one wants to hear you make amore. Unless the holy triumvirate of Alba, Johanson, Biel are involved.

World Series Eve

A funny thing happened three years ago. Here's to hoping it happens again.

And something that sums it all up pretty nicely in an op ed piece to the NY Times of all places.

Death to the Underdog
By Will Leitch

Through it all, almost every Red Sox fan I’ve ever met has just wanted to be normal.

I’m not talking about the bandwagon jumpers of the last few years, the so-called “Pink Hat” fans who think Luis Tiant is the name of an ocean liner, treat Yawkey Way merely as a place to meet particularly inebriated coeds and totally understand how Jimmy Fallon feels, man.

I’m talking about the lifers, the ones who have surrendered their summer New England nights to the rhythms of Troy O’Leary and Lou Merloni. These are not fans who ever believed in the stupid “Curse of the Bambino” or held the fatalistic notion that their team was some sort of doomed stepsister of history. They were not interested in dopey, staged promotions like “President of Red Sox Nation.” They grimaced when Ben Affleck, Tim Russert and Renee Zellweger started showing up at games and giving between-innings interviews. None of that ever meant anything to them. They just wanted to watch their team win, because that’s what fans do.

The history of the Boston Red Sox has always been so fraught with high-minded, scholarly dissertations on what the Red Sox “mean” that the pure joy of being a fan of the best team in baseball has almost been lost. I suspect last night’s Game 7 victory over the Indians, clinching the Red Sox’ second World Series trip in four years, will help change that.

Red Sox fans have taken to calling the 2007 season “The Possible Dream,” as opposed to the unofficial “Impossible Dream” moniker of 1967. This is telling; the Red Sox are no longer the scrappy underdogs attempting to overcome the evil empire of the Yankees. They are no longer measured by their relation to a rival, or to history. They are simply the most well-run, successful franchise in baseball right now, a team that wins through heart, determination and relentless talent.

The truest fans do not care about anything but their team winning; another World Series victory wouldn’t erase the memories of 2004 (not that anyone would want it to), but it will be one final step to finally burying that overblown classification of a condemned franchise. The Red Sox will simply be champions, and that will be more than enough.

Red Sox fans don’t have to be participants in some sort of Greek tragedy anymore. Being a fan is not a three-act play. To win via magic is glorious. To win via sustained, lasting dominance is sublime. The Red Sox might win the World Series, and they might not, but now they’re just another outstanding baseball team, rather than epic heroes in some sort of Sisyphean quest.

They’re a great baseball team. This is what real Red Sox fans have wanted all along.

Foi gras, foi what? or How I'm Not a Foodie, but I Watch One on TV

Given my choice between the 12-course tasting menu at the French Laundry and a Spike's Junkyard Dog, without question I'd pick (really who am I kidding here?) the Thomas Kellar royal treatment.

But I'd say 7 times out of 10, all the foods that I have described as *JESUS* have been from down and dirty lil' joints. Mom & Pop, neighborhood joints with few Restaurant Week-aided (liberally) sprinkled venues as well. All good. All tasty for their own special reasons.

Dinning doesn't need to be gourmet to be good. It just has to be good to be good. It doesn't hurt if it happens to move you and inspire you. And if it causes you to linger a little longer over that last morsel, than all the better.

So what this all boils down to, is that if I had to choose my last meal on Earth, it wouldn't be four stars, it would be equal parts: mom's homemade Chinese; a strawberry milkshake the size of my head; a bowl of clam chowdah; the most succulent porterhouse in all of Chicago; a double side of Boston Market creamed spinach and what the heck some of that try-it-if-you-dare/only-7-chefs-in-the-world-know-how-to-prepare-it Japanese blowfish.

The inspiration behind this post? An amazing, yes *JESUS* quality pizzasteak & cheese I just had. I've only been in SF for 3 weeks, but OMG I just had my first 8" of pure loving and it was fantastic!

man down!

Well I guess things I'm losing that touristy thing and settling quite well into resident. Besides what transpired over the weekend, I just finished up a batch of laundry and it seems that I lost a sock to the drying machine gods. If that doesn't scream living, what does?

I come for your sauce, I come for your bread

So in my last post I marveled at the amazing fresh squeezed orange juice at my newfound haven, and while it remains the same great glass of sun-ripened sweetness, things have changed. Namely I can't wait to move into my new apartment. To have a place to call my own. To have a place where I can finally unpack my suitcases (maybe even wear what's at the very bottom of them). To a place where I can make people take off their shoes when they visit because it's my place. Oh and I so dearly look forward to the day when I will have a refridgerator of my own, which I will stock with the finest meats & cheeses in the land, plus a variety of tasty treats and of course a carton of orange juice, which while not fresh squeezed will be mine when I want, at less than $4 a glass.

It's not funny, it's not even sophomoric, it's just downright silly, but that's how it goes. Recently I've crossed paths with two different women each with Italian surnames that remotely sound like bakery products. I'd like to introduce you to Miss Foccacia and Miss Bruschetta. And because my mind made this malapropism the first time I met both of them, the doughy misnomer is stuck in my head. Of course I giggle inwardly whenever I speak to either one. This wouldn't be so bad if they 1) were not going to be in my class for the next year or 2) well...she's pretty swell, respectively. So here's to you Mr. Italian Kitchen: manga!

Eat your heart out Atkins! (The late Dr. Robert Atkins, not Garrett Atkins, starting 3B for the Colorodo Rockies. On a sidenote, I hope G. Atkins hits .162 this October. Not only are you playing against my beloved Sox, but I also wasted a first round pick on you this season and sat idly by as you hit an anemic .222 with the occasional pop, but once I traded you away, you turned things around. Thanks douche.)

Fresh OJ never tasted so good

OK I lie, fresh OJ always tastes good, but today it's especially sweet as it's a little after 11:30 and I'm sitting at my neighborhood cafe (I'm so happy to have a place!). But it is damn tasty

I just realized that another thing I want to add to the mythical list of things I look for in a girlfriend/wife: the liberal use of hot sauce be it Tabasco, Frank's Red Hot and now that I'm on the west coast, Tapatio and Sriracha.

I also think I have a crush on my copy prof. She's dreamy.

Day 1: In the Fog of the Night (or What I Learned to Learn All Over Again)

Well vacations over. It was fun while it lasted. Don't get me wrong, I'm still going to be a tourist for the next 12 months and get all I can out of SF, but let's just say the days of sleeping in until 10 11 a.m are done for now. That also means say goodbye for eating out every meal of the day. Yup, you guessed it, it's peanut butter jelly time. It's what I'm eating right now. Oh yeah, why I'm eating a PB&J right now and the big news: First day (night) of classes!

This is good. This is what I wanted. I'm not in over my head. I'm not the oldest one. I'm not the youngest one. I'm not the Asianist one either. I have had some real world experience so that's a bonus. It's funny, it's either "love the one you're with" or "the grass is always greener on the other side", but even in my first class a lot of things I just got, that I otherwise don't think I would have if I didn't work at the Big Easy for a while first...thanks BD.

What I've learned after one class:

• Interactive, baby! Yes, going beyond the 8.5 x 11 print piece is good. In fact it's encouraged. Who would have thunk it? It's like the Web is something that's revolutionized the world (of advertising) as we know it. I feel really lucky to have a pretty firm grasp of what it takes to write online. And damn if I was the only one to have an understanding of K-size.Booyah!

• The dude who knows literally nothing about advertising is going to make me rue many days and nights. C'mon dude. You can't ask the Prof to explain what a headline, subhead, body copy and tag are. Well, I guess you can, but it's called undergrad. I have faith though. I'll let him borrow my Whipple.

• After eating eating pieces of jalapeno pepper with your fingers, make sure you wash your hands thoroughly. Lest in the middle of class you go to rub your eye and searing pain and watery eyes are the result. Great first impressions, let me tell you.

• When you're a student poor and are used to eating meat, but can't afford it, a nice smoked Gouda really satisfies.

• And yes, 23-year old Art Directors are quite fetching.

Sellling out...not that there's anything wrong with that.

First, I wanted to live with a friend I knew. We were going to find a nice 2BR in an awesome neighborhood. I could walk to class, her to work. We'd be surrounded by posh little cafes, trendy bars and rad shops. Then I realized how difficult it was to find an empty 2BR in the neighborhoods I wanted to live in.

OK, then I decided that I'm fine living with another person...and maybe in a neighborhood a bit further out. No dice.

At the very least I wanted to live with someone who is between the ages of 25-31. Twenty-two and 23 year-olds should be girlfriends, not roommates.

Dare I say it, now I'm even considering a place in a great hood and in my price range, but has *GASP* a cat!

I'm pretty much looking at anything that is remotely in my price range. And suffice it to say things are looking pretty slim...

We are 4 gay males in a 5 bedroom flat in the lower haight. Looking for someone to fill the 5th room. In addition to the bedrooms there are 2 bathrooms, living room and kitchen. There is a communal back yard that all the flats in the building share. There is coin operated laundry on the ground floor. Very laid back house hold. Open nudity is ok. Please call XXX for more information at xxx-xxx-xxxx. Don't email, I won't respond. No roaming pets. Rodents, reptiles and other small, quiet caged animals are ok.

You can't imagine the stupid, silly grin I have on my face right now. Just checked my email and what do we have here? My class schedule for first quarter.

ADR 121 Intro to Strategy
CWR 201 Copy Techniques
GDN 402 Design & Layout
LAB 701 InDesign

I'm feeling part giddy and part completely in over my head. Definite a different experience from my days back at University, where choosing my class schedule was a 2-hour fiasco; now, I'm finding out my classes for the first time (no choice whatsoever) with less than a week before classes.

No turning back now, right?