Observations of the trailing spouse

I'm not dead yet ...

2009-12-03T10:02:00.004-05:00

Greetings!

Two months. Two months have passed since I "pulled the plug" here at OOTTS. Yet here I am, writing a new post.

Let's see, quite a bit has happened since we last spoke. Two things I've poked fun at in the past are no more: the Front Street Bistro (closed - soon to be a deli that I'm looking forward to trying) and poor Joe Visconti's town council career. I plan on taking no responsibility for either of these incidents ...

We've made it through the first fall without leaf vacuuming services. As far as I can tell, nobody died from bagging leaves. This, of course, goes to show that people in West Hartford can handle a little bit of change, even if it means facing it begrudgingly ...

I haven't been out searching for new cheeseburger places lately ... I need to get back on that train ...

The movie project that I spoke about a few times here has finally begun screening at film festivals. It even won Best Picture at one!

Oh, and I kind of got hit by a car while running ... I'm fine, and it was far scarier than being bit by a dog, though with less injury (I still have a scar from that stupid dog). I don't know what contortions I used to avoid a total, bone-crushing impact, but I walked away relatively fine, with only my foot getting struck by a bumper. I can't say I was 100% without fault, but I still wonder why I didn't hear the sound of screeching brakes as that sedan came toward me. I'm half-thinking the driver wasn't looking at the road, half-thinking he was an assassin sent to snub me out - only he confused me with a secret government agent who happens to share the same name!

And that's about all. Just wanted you all to know I'm still breathing.

The (semi)retirement of the trailing spouse

2009-09-27T09:11:00.003-04:00

I suppose an explanation is in order.

When I started writing this blog (361 posts ago!), I had one goal: To provide a look at the life of a trailing spouse, from the struggles with ego to the major life changes that such a moniker entails, from work to environment and memory. I think I accomplished this. In fact, I think I may have accomplished this a while ago. Sure, things have come up here and there, but my overall arc has completed itself. And without a goal, a purpose, a blog like this becomes a haven for "gee, isn't this video funny" posts, and though those moments were essential months ago, when my life consisted of sporadic work and hours online, they now feel like nothing but filler. And that's not a road I want to travel. There are plenty of places one can go to see goofy stuff.

Of course, there are other contributing factors to my decision. I'm in the middle of applying to grad school right now and work two jobs, so my free time has shrunk considerably (which I'm sure some of you have noticed, with the daily posts becoming twice a week, then once every week and a half). Also, one of my jobs puts me smack in the middle of the town's general public (no, I'm not working at McDonald's or dressing as Noah Webster and patrolling Blue Back Square), and there's something in me that keeps saying, "one of these days, someone is going to smack you because you made fun of them or their restaurant or their poor use of grammar." Certainly, this concern weighs somewhat in my decision.

But this is not to say I'm gone completely. There may be posts to write, strange occurrences to share. There may be completely new ventures, new blogs with different purposes. However, from where I currently stand, I just can't think of a reason to post funny videos of cats when there are a million other places already doing the same thing.

I want to thank everyone that has visited me here over the past 13 months. Tens of thousands of visitors. It really amazes me. And I'll still be checking my trailingspouseben@yahoo.com email address, so feel free to drop me a line.

Until next time, keep looking out for the vanishing sidewalks ... they're everywhere.

Happy National Cheeseburger Day!

2009-09-18T15:12:00.006-04:00

Thanks to Facebook, I have learned that today is none other than National Cheeseburger Day. Oh joy! Of course, I don't know who officially sanctioned the holiday, and I still had to go into work, but, nevertheless, any excuse to eat a cheeseburger is a good excuse.

Not into cheeseburgers? First, shame on you. Second, there's apparently a "National (insert food here) Day" just about every day of the year, according to this website. Here's their lineup for the rest of the month:

National Butterscotch Pudding Day September 19

National Rum Punch Day September 20

International Banana Festival September 21

International, people! What's a better way to unite the world than with bananas! Here are some great pictures from the 1981 festival in Fulton, Kentucky.

National Pecan Cookie Day September 21

National Ice Cream Cone Day September 22

National White Chocolate Day September 23

National Cherries Jubilee Day September 24

Crab Meat Newburg Day September 25

National Food Service Employees Day September 25

Okay, so this isn't an actual food day, though I suppose if you were in a crashed airplane somewhere in the mountains with a Food Service Employee, you may consider eating them.

National Pancake Day September 26

National Chocolate Milk Day September 27

National Corned Beef Hash Day September 27

Strawberry Cream Pie Day September 28

Drink Beer Day September 28

I like this one, but I think it should be modified to "Drink Some Beer Day." We don't need to be giving excuses to people.

National Coffee Day September 29

Convenient that this come directly after Drink Beer Day.

National Hot Mulled Cider Day September 30

There you have it. Pick your poison, people!

The mystery of Karl's voice

2009-09-16T13:37:00.003-04:00

So there's this new commercial for Febreze that has been on TV lately. As one would expect, it's pretty bad: Mom comes into son's room, tells him it stinks, then "cleans" everything by spraying it with Febreze. Anyway, there's a lot to make fun of in this ad (for example, the fact that Karl, the son, is reallllllly into soccer balls), but the one thing that gets me it is that Karl apparently has been completely overdubbed.

Here's the ad:

Now, tell me if I'm wrong on this, but Karl is the only one overdubbed, right? It isn't like that super cheapo Cheerios commercial that was obviously originally from the UK that was dubbed and shoved on US television a year or so ago, is it?

(For those who have a life and don't know what I'm referring to, here's the Cheerios ad:)

This just makes me wonder about our smelly teenager. What happened to his voice? Did he have some horrible accent? Did puberty hit? Was the director pinned down to the edit booth by a crazed male who insisted on having his voice say such clever lines as "Are you kidding?" and "Woah!"

Or maybe our friend Karl lost his voice from all the screams of joy that surged through his body when he found out that he, not the other stoner-looking teenaged actors, was going to have to opportunity to use his talents to sell an odor masking agent to the masses.

Yeah, that's probably it. I know I'd be like that.

Long live Mr. Jim Carroll

2009-09-14T14:28:00.007-04:00

Jim Carroll - poet, author, musician - passed away on Friday from a heart attack. He was 60.

I saw Mr. Carroll perform once, back when I was in college. His set included a wonderful set of poems and even a few spoken word performances of his songs. He was a warm presence and seemed to genuinely enjoy talking to the auditorium.

Sad to hear he's no longer with us.

The New York Times has a nice obituary here.

I remember hunting high and low to find a copy of Carroll's 1991 release, Praying Mantis. It became one of the main missions of my freshman year of college in Boston. Every used record store in the city knew me as the kid looking for Praying Mantis. I finally found it, worn and beaten, months after my search began, and treasure it to this day. Here's one of my favorite pieces from the album, titled Fragment: Little N.Y. Ode:

I sleep on a tar roof
scream my songs
into lazy floods of stars. . .
and the sounds return
pure and easy. . .
This city is on my side.

The running encyclopedia ...

2009-09-07T11:02:00.004-04:00

On Saturday, while out for a long walk, a car pulled up to the Professor while she was on Mountain Road. The person in the passenger's seat asked if she could help with directions. The Professor said, "Sure, where are you trying to go?"

"Six Flags," the passenger replied, straight-faced. "Can you tell me how to get to Six Flags?"

Bewildered by the query (since Six Flags is: 1. not in Connecticut and 2. Absolutely nowhere near Mountain Road in West Hartford - 30 miles and a 45 minute drive at the minimum), the Professor immediately grew suspicious, as if these people were trying to catch her off-guard before they tossed a pillowcase over her head and crunched her into the trunk. She gave them an "are you serious?" look, then said they should begin by finding Massachusetts via 91 north.

When she got home and told me the story, it reminded me of a similar situation that I was in a few years back, when we were still living in Boston. It was the morning of the Boston Marathon. I was out for a run before heading into work, when a car pulled up next to me and a woman in her mid-thirties and her husband asked: "How do I get to the staring line of the marathon?" This was asked in a nonchalant way, like they were driving along and thought, "Look, there's a runner, we must be close!" Perhaps they thought I must have been heading there myself. Never in their minds, I'm sure, did it occur to them that, since a marathon is 26.2 miles long, the starting line wasn't going to be anywhere near the corner of the city we were occupying. Yet, I tried to help them. I gave them my best description of the marathon route (at least, the best I could remember) and told them to head toward Hopkinton. I even warned them that by the time they got there, the marathon would be fully underway, that their best bet was to drive up to Boston College and camp out on Heartbreak Hill.

It's funny to hear the things people say to you while you're running. More often than not, you're either a human GPS or a target for insults. I don't mind the GPS questions, as long as it doesn't slow me down all that much. I do mind the insults, though even those can be so odd that they're memorable. An example: Right after I moved here, I, along with a few other runners that were on the same road, were barraged by the drunken rants of a teenager in a passing car (the fact that it was around ten o'clock in the morning is an entirely other issue). I wasn't able to hear what was said to the other runners, but to me he said, "I'd teabag that." Huh? I didn't know whether to laugh or lunge at him. It confused me and made me wonder why people bothered? What pleasure comes from shouting out a window? At a runner, of all people!

But every once in a while there's the person who counters the 17-year-old boys. They're the positive reinforcement, the stranger that, for whatever reason, wants to keep you going when you're pounding the pavement. Those are the people you want to run past every day. The ones that say, "good job" or "keep it up." The ones who say these things because they're nice, because they want to say them. They're a rare breed. Sadly, for every shout of encouragement, there's at least a few invitations to lewd sexual acts involving testicles.

So, runners (and walkers) out there, do you have any funny or odd encounters with strangers that you'd like to share? If so, leave a message in the comments below.

Awesome local commercial makes no sense!

2009-09-03T13:04:00.005-04:00

I love their ads, and they usually make me laugh (though possibly not in the way they're intended), but sometimes the spots for Dressler and Strickland seem as if they were conceived by someone on crack (or a twelve-year-old). I really wanted to share with you their ad which shows a bunch of cartoon animals driving around in order to offer up the line, "It's a jungle out there," but I couldn't seem to track it down. Nevertheless, for your viewing pleasure, I did find the fine example above.

There are lots of questions I'm left asking after watching this ad. First, why is the woman who has just broken her arm smiling and waving at the driver in the smashed vehicle? Why isn't she and her attorney trying to help him out of the twisted wreckage? And where did "cartoon lawyer" get his suit? That jacket he has buttons all the way up to his neck? That must be very uncomfortable. Then later, why is the jury throwing their own money at Dressler? Is he a hypnotist in addition to a lawyer, or did he just give such a moving closing argument that the pool felt the need to compensate him? And why does the non-cartoon version of Dressler (aka, the actual human being) have such a small gavel? You'd think, for show even, he'd have one of those big, monster sledgehammer deals.

CNN: Asking the tough questions

2009-09-03T09:12:00.003-04:00

This is today's CNN "Quick Vote." You know, that little sidebar poll that everyone seems to be doing nowadays on their websites (Heck, I did it once to determine which local restaurant I should eat at - in case you're wondering, the Corner Pug won). Apparently we're concerned enough about tainted food that it has become a poll question, as 45% of those responding (meaning, computer users who frequent CNN and who also have a "click" fetish and who also eat at questionable restaurants and/or get their food from dumpsters) are afraid of their food being, well, not quite food.

On the other hand, perhaps CNN is just pushing buttons here, fishing for what could become the "big fall scary news." They need to find the next Swine Flu before Fox News beats them to the punch. Of course, if you ask me, the major story of Autumn is certainly going to be "watching out for that creepy house on Halloween, you know, the one that Jimmy swears is haunted and that he bets you can't stand to go up and ring the doorbell because, you know, there's a witch that lives in there and she's hungry and the only thing she eats, besides pets, is HUMAN FLESH!!!!!"

Yeah, that's going to be a big story. Maybe I should start a poll ...

On dinosaur feet and the death of a Liberal Lion ...

2009-08-30T19:41:00.004-04:00

This week, when I wasn't busy copying other bloggers' posts without any acknowledgment, much like my heroes over at the Hartford Courant, I was visiting the Dinosaur State Park with my nephew and niece and mourning the death of Mr. Ted Kennedy.

Let's start with the dinosaurs.

I had no idea what was at Dinosaur State Park in Rocky Hill. Seeing the signs on 91, I always assumed it to be a hokey place with fake dinosaur statues and mini golf or something. But the Professor's parents were bringing the little ones down for a visit, and, me having a day off and the Prof still on summer break, we decided to tag along.

I have to say, the place is kind of cool. For those who have no idea of what I'm referring, let me give you a bit of history. Back in 1966, 2,000 dinosaur tracks were found while the foundation for a new state building was being dug in Rocky Hill. Completely by accident. Can you imagine being the person who found these things? Needless to say, the building was scrapped and a park was born. 500 of the tracks remained unearthed and a giant dome structure was built over them, creating a museum for dinosaur fans to visit.

And do they visit. While we were there, busloads of kids were coming and going, along with some awkward teenagers that, I can only hope, were more into the "science" of these fossils than the "wow, dinosaurs!" awe that seemed to enrapt the park's tinier explorers.

Here's a poorly lit photo from inside the dome:

The kids had a blast, and the adults had fun, too. Of course, there was this one egotistical dinosaur we ran into on our way out of the park. He gave us some trouble, but we managed to get away. I even snapped a picture while we escaped:

Lousy, no good hipster brontosaurus ...

Anyway, that was the Dinosaur State Park.

Now onto Mr. Kennedy.

The passing of the Liberal Lion left me with a strong feeling of disconnect toward my home state of Massachusetts. His death reminded me that I'm not there anymore, a fact that is plain to see but which I still occasionally forget. I'm now at arm's length from my former city, outside, looking in, both for better and worse. Many friends went to the processionals, saw the motorcade, posted pictures on Facebook (which, I must admit, was kind of odd). But seeing so many people I know actively participating in such moments, being part of the funeral, the physical mourning, made the 90 minutes that separates me from my former home in Boston seem all the more great.

I suppose the strangest thing about Ted Kennedy's passing is the fact that there won't be any more new television footage of the man. For the 31 years I have been on this planet (and, until last August, having lived all of those years in Massachusetts), Kennedy's face has been a nearly nightly image, as common as the newscasters who he was speaking to or the townspeople seen at the gas station. I can't say I found the man to be perfect, but such thoughts really don't matter anymore. It was the comfort of seeing him that made him who he was. It was the fire that raged in his eyes on some days. The doughy smile on others. It was the fact that he was a constant. That is what I'll miss the most. Such a familiar image, lost into the ether.

I had heard about the Cash for Clunkers program, but ...

2009-08-23T15:30:00.001-04:00

... apparently the New Haven Register is interested in a very different initiative:

The best part? 18% of the responses were "yes."

How does this work? Do I just need to turn in a chicken? Can it be from the grocery store? And how much money do I get for each chicken I turn in?

When we are the news, what is the news?

2009-08-23T13:16:00.005-04:00

Back in February, I wrote about our (read: the general public's) seeming obsession with leaving comments on online news stories, as if our opinions were as, if not more, important than the stories themselves. I wondered why this was, and, frankly, what the point of allowing such activity brought to the legitimate act of news distribution. Well, thanks to the good folks at NBC 30, there is now a new level of public involvement in what used to be a purely objective way to relate important information.

You see, over at nbcconnecticut.com (the online outlet of channel 30), you can now rate the news stories.

I wish I was kidding.

Here's an example. A young person recently drowned in the Housatonic River. Quite a sad story. One, you would think, the average reader would see and say something like, "How horrible." You would think said reader would then refrain from clicking the small box to the right of said article, the box that says "I am: ." You'd think a tragedy would invoke a certain sense of respect.

Of course, you'd be wrong.

Here are the "ratings" for the article:

The website does not list the total number of votes, but the fact that anyone bothered to think that their emotional input was necessary after reading of a young person's death makes you stop to wonder, no? (I'm curious if the "laughing" and "bored" votes were nothing more than children deciding to be ironic.)

Honestly, what is the point of this? Are we so pathetically attention-starved that we need to be involved in everything we touch? Is that the reason for such inventions?

And what about the long-term effect of such immediate interaction? How could this affect what we consider "news?" If NBC 30's audience decides that politics or world news is boring, will the station decide to make such information obsolete? Will the news become nothing more than fluff a la E! News or Entertainment Tonight? Will celebrity birthdays overtake a recap of the stock market? Are Lolcats going to suddenly show up?

Sure, this may be taking things to an extreme, but one has to assume that these small changes will somehow play into future models of news.

Our world is constantly evolving. How do I feel about it? Sometimes I'm "thrilled," but things like this just make me "sad." Feel free to click on the sidebar to tell me your opinion. Wait, I don't have such technology.

Another walk in the center ... this time with feeling!

2009-08-19T13:18:00.011-04:00

Some people think all I do is complain. So, to prove them wrong, I'm devoting today's post to celebration! There are three shops that have opened in West Hartford center, filling some of the sad, lonesome vacancies that I wrote about back at the end of June.

Let's do a little before and after for our first two entries:

Yes, Max Muscle and Kaboos have arrived. And the center is the better for having them. Of course, I haven't actually entered either store. I hear Max Muscle has flat-screen televisions, but I'm on a strict "min muscle" program, so I don't see myself buying massive jars of supplements anytime soon.

Next up is a place I think many of us never would have imagined actually opening. Yes, I'm talking about Green Teahouse:

Like the infamous Chow across the street in Blue Back Square, Green Teahouse seemed like an elaborate prank being pulled on the residents of West Hartford. "When is it coming?" "Soon *snicker, snicker* soon."

But it is really here! And it looks great. I can see myself buying things inside right now ...

Moving on, there are several "coming soon" signs pock-marking the center. Are they actually coming soon? Or are they ...

I suppose time will tell, but it looks like we're going to be welcoming at least 3 more establishments in the somewhat near future:

I must say, I'm excited about Le Petit France. I grew up not far from their original store in Sturbridge, MA. Good stuff.

Of course, all is not roses and testosterone pills in the center. No, there are still stores dropping like flies. E.L. Wilde, Ritz Camera, and KZen are no longer with us. In their passing, I propose a toast, conveniently enough from West Hartford's newest "champagne room" (remember, men, there is no sex in the champagne room), Cuvee:

"Rub-a-dub, thanks for providing services to the residents of West Hartford and beyond."

What would happen if zombies were real? Let's ask the scientists ...

2009-08-18T11:32:00.003-04:00

The BBC (normally a trusted source of news) ran a story today about zombies. As in, "How would we fare if these fictional creatures were real?" Really.

From the article:

If zombies actually existed, an attack by them would lead to the collapse of civilisation unless dealt with quickly and aggressively.

That is the conclusion of a mathematical exercise carried out by researchers in Canada.

They say only frequent counter-attacks with increasing force would eradicate the fictional creatures.

The scientific paper is published in a book - Infectious Diseases Modelling Research Progress.

You can read the full article (with awesome zombie picture) over here.

In the dark (naturally)

2009-08-17T21:34:00.003-04:00

Right now I'd rather not be writing a blog post. But since we are once again without electricity, there isn't much else for me to do but sit with the old laptop. The annoying thing is that we have neighbors close enough to us with electricity that I can "borrow" the wireless signal that I'm currently using.

The electric company must have a vendetta against our little stretch of pavement. Over the past month, we have lost electricity five or six times. Some of these have been fairly legit (meaning downed trees, horrible thunderstorms), but all of the outages lately have been completely random.

Shortly after the Professor and I moved to this apartment, CL&P (short for Connecticut Light & Power for those out of state) showed up to tell us that they were cutting the power to do work on some of the transformers. I can only assume this work has something to do with the nonsense we've been dealing with ever since (especially considering our landlord upstairs claims they'd never really lost power in the 10 years that he's lived in our house before this summer).

Oh well, I suppose there are some bright spots I can take away from no power at 9:45 PM on a night whose humidity is bordering on unbearable. For one, some of the neighbors are walking around outside in their pajamas. That's something you don't see every day. Then there's ... well, I suppose I have plenty of time, illuminated by the glow of the laptop, to figure it out.

I'm (holds up index finger) THIS many!

2009-08-16T11:50:00.004-04:00

It's hard to believe, but OOTTS turned one yesterday. One full year of adjusting to a new town, meeting new people, and figuring out what one does when they get sucked away from almost everything they know. It both seems like yesterday and a lifetime ago when I decided, on a sticky night last August, that something like a blog may help the transition process. I saw it as an outlet to distract me while I waited to find a job and figure out what I wanted to pursue.

Thanks to the thousands of people who have visited over the past 366. And a special thanks to the few that are regulars (I'm still amazed that anyone is interested enough to come back once, let alone those who are here a few times a week!).

To celebrate, I got a cake from the folks who run the awesome blog Cake Wrecks. Here's what I received:

Local paper round-up: Sorry, Chad Smith, not in this town ...

2009-08-14T16:51:00.004-04:00

The West Hartford News used to be a punching bag of poor writing, but that was soooooo three or four months ago. Some staff changes have improved the News greatly, pretty much to the point that there's nothing to make fun of. Well, almost nothing.

The paper has a section called "Happenings," where selected concert listings are printed. Wondering if Ratt is coming to Connecticut? Afraid that looking such information up online will put you on a "can you believe this guy is interested in going to see Ratt?" list? Look no further than "Happenings." They are ... wait for it ... happening, man! Don't you worry your pretty little head over nothing, baby! "Happenings" is gonna take care of you. (No offense to Ratt. I actually really dug them when I was a kid.)

Anyway, back to the present.

While perusing "Happenings" the other day, I noticed that there was a listing for the Chickenfoot concert that is happening (get it? Happening!) next week at Mohegan Sun. The listing looked like this:

Chickenfoot featuring Joe Satriani, Sammy Hagar, Michael Anthony, and more

That made me wonder, "Who is more?" How many other guys can make up a band called Chickenfoot?

The answer? One. Chad Smith, drummer for the Red Hot Chili Peppers (hey, I hear they're from California or something). One name. And the News didn't print it.

So, essentially, the News must have decided that the extra five letters in Smith's last name were just too much. Sorry, Smith, we can't fit you in. Instead, you will be known as "more." No hard feelings.

*****

Meanwhile, over at West Hartford Life, it appears as if someone may be drinking the Kool-Aid that used to filter through the pipes at the News. How else can one describe the following headline and opening paragraph:

First Max Muscle Opens Here

When Max Muscle opened its doors at 968 Farmington Avenue in West Hartford on July 1, it became the state's first and only Max Muscle Sports Nutrition store. This new store concept provides customers an in-store experience centered on the Max Muscle Information Center, featuring flat-screen televisions.

What is this Information Center? Who cares! There are FLAT-SCREEN televisions!

Seriously, though, how can that headline pass through an editor unscathed? "Opens Here?" Really? Then we have the overabundance of "Max Muscle" and "store." There are less than 50 words in that opening paragraph. "Max Muscle" and "store" both appear 3 times. That's a tad extreme, no?

But the author did cover the Five Ws (plus an added sixth): who, what, where, when, why, and what the hell are you trying to tell me here?

Sure YOUR dog can talk, but does he sell antiques?

2009-08-13T16:10:00.003-04:00

We have some very smart animals here in West Hartford. How smart? Take Big Shot, spokesperson (and proprietor?) of Estate Buys of West Hartford:

He's savvy, he speaks english, and he buys your old stuff. Dude has some eclectic taste, as well. Was that an octopus lamp? Strange ...

Random observation while heading into vacation

2009-08-07T07:46:00.004-04:00

I leave you with this, which I recently experienced. I'll be back in a week or so:

Leaving the Francis Bacon retrospective at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, one is dumped into a gallery containing several Caravaggio paintings. The juxtaposition of style is very jarring and discombobulating. However, when such an event is then immediately followed by finding Crispin Glover, he of George McFly, Willard, and creepy movie villain fame, standing next to you, dressed in a suit and dramatically telling his companion (also overdressed) how much the painting you are observing "moves him," one must pause to question reality for a moment.

Things I don't understand: The Cow Parade

2009-08-06T08:00:00.001-04:00

Although I have been a Connecticut resident for now over a year, there are still a few things here that confuse me. The Cow Parade is one of these things.

Now, I understand the thought behind the project: gigantic fiberglass cows are painted, put on display all over town, then sold at auction, where several local organizations are able to benefit from the funds raised. My question is: why cows? Did the residents of town vote for them over something else? Why not gigantic nutmegs or huge Noah Webster heads? Maybe big bucks like in the logo for The Hartford? Life-sized Katherine Hepburns? Don't get me wrong, I realize we take our cattle fairly seriously here in West Hartford. But it seems we are more likely to EAT the cows than paint them. Look at our restaurants. We have 4 places that have strictly hamburger-based menus. We have steak houses. We have multiple ice cream shops.

Yes, we LOVE our cows. They're incredibly delicious.

Maybe we should have some new cows that celebrate our love of their flavor. One could be placed in front of Hall's Market and show the various cuts of meat available (as seen in this artist rendition):

Then maybe we could show the flip-side and offer up a protest cow display. Pick your burger joint: Plan B, Max Burger, Counter. Some cows outside with protest signs? Classic!

Or, to add a twist, we could have protest cows outside one restaurant and, at another burger place, the same cows in a line that reaches into the back door of the kitchen! Wow! How meta!

I suppose those aren't the best ideas.

Oh well. I must admit, though I may not quite "get" our fiberglass herd, there's something about them that feels kind of nice, I suppose. They may not be the prettiest things to look at, but I know as long as there's one in my sights, I'm still in town. And I guess that's not a bad thing, right?

Floating away with Servais Le Roy

2009-08-05T12:55:00.005-04:00

Across from my desk there's this corkboard where I have all sorts of stuff tacked up: old race numbers, a photocopy of a page from a Get Fuzzy book, a postcard of a squirrel smoking - a pretty eclectic bunch of items. Anyway, this board also houses my calendar, which this year is "magicians of the past"-themed (last year was "Sci-Fi monsters of 1950s cinema"). For the most part, these magicians are household name guys like Harry Houdini, but this month brought up Servais Le Roy. Here's the picture from my calendar:

Having very little knowledge of Mr. Le Roy, I was intrigued by the image. Why was there a chicken in the top corner? And what was this fantastic levitation mystery?

I consulted my copy of The Illustrated History of Magic (yes, I am a total dork. To be fair, though, I've got a TON of books on lots of other subjects. Some of which are very cool). Apparently Le Roy was a rare performer who not only pleased audiences, but also invented tricks for other magicians. But what he is best known for is his trick known as the "Asrah," which he first performed around 1902:

Le Roy hypnotized his wife, covered her with a white silk cloth, caused her to float up in the air and then to hang in space as he passed a hoop over her vertical body. While he gestured dramatically, she floated higher. Suddenly he whipped away the cloth; she was gone!

Here's a YouTube video I found of the trick (with the added bonus of the magician pretending to be Le Roy):

You've got to love the weird man servants and the strange dancing. Something tells me this wasn't exactly the way Le Roy did the trick, but it's probably fairly close.

Of course, this got me thinking: what other Asrah videos are there out there? There's this dramatic television version (in Portuguese, perhaps?), starring some kind of heartthrob magician (based on the squeals from the audience) and using Aerosmith as a soundtrack:

Then there's this guy, who seems to think the music from Back to the Future is just the perfect accompaniment to the illusion:

Then there's ... this:

Not a very good rendition, but you do get to see the non sequitur of a big man with a tiny stroller at the beginning.

I guess this shows that Le Roy created something special, since the trick is still performed today. Of course, I still have no idea why the chicken is on the poster, but that's a mystery for another day.

The steroid plot thickens ...

2009-08-02T11:38:00.008-04:00

I was pretty bummed to hear this week's revelation that Red Sox slugger David Ortiz tested positive for steroids back in 2003. The news left me wondering why I should care about a sport that seems perfectly happy to lie to me over and over and over.

Since then, the plot has only gotten murkier for the Beantown team. Today's Boston Globe has a fantastic article detailing how two security staffers for the Sox were fired last year for illegal steroid use.

Some quick highlights:

• One of the guards in question is Jerry Remy's son, and he looks like a total muscle-bound freak.

• Security guards only get paid $11/hour, but there are perks. What perks? How about driving around in player's cars that they can never afford because they get paid $11/hour?

• MLB investigators spent as little as fifteen minutes "interviewing" the dismissed guards:

Remy, 30, said he believed the questioning, conducted in a Fenway Park conference room by MLB investigator Eduardo Dominguez, lasted about 15 minutes. It seemed to him a perfunctory exercise in damage control.

“They didn’t ask much at all; they wanted to make it disappear,’’ he said.

“Major League Baseball asked me, ‘Have you ever seen any players do steroids?’ ’’ Remy recalled. “I said, ‘No. no.’ . . . He said, ‘If you’re honest with me, nothing will happen to you.’ Next thing I know, I get fired.’’

• The Remy freak (seriously, check him out in the article pictures. Oh, and did I mention that he allegedly enjoys beating up women? Yeah, the article covers that, as well) says he had conversations with the personal assistant of David Ortiz about steroids:

That salaried personal assistant, Felix Leopoldo Marquez Galice, is a Dominican currently facing possible deportation for covering up his illegal status by using the name of a Puerto Rican man serving prison time for a drug offense ... “He admitted taking steroids. We had conversations about steroids,’’ said Remy.

“We’d talk, ‘This one works for that. This one makes you bulky. This one makes you harder,’ ’’ Remy recalled.

And Remy also claims that MLB investigators never bothered to ask about Galice.

These are some sad times to be a baseball fan. Even if some of these admissions are nothing more than fiction, there's got to be a certain amount of truth buried underneath it all. To read the full article, click here.

Sonic in Connecticut?

2009-07-31T21:15:00.003-04:00

Back in my days of supervising an internship program (oh, those were the days!), I once had a student who, on more than one occasion, railed on and on about how much she missed the food from Sonic Drive-In. She was from Arizona (I think), a land ripe with the frozen treats and fast food meals offered by the chain. And, living in Boston, the closest she was able to get to the goods was via the commercials that ran on cable.

Well, times are changing.

Though Sonic has not officially announced it, they are opening up a shop in Wallingford. According to a report in today's Courant, the company has started looking for managers on sites like CareerBuilder. Of course, I'm pretty sure my old intern is nowhere near New England anymore. But I am. And I sure like hamburgers.

Can't wait.

Thoughts on the "thought pad."

2009-07-29T14:26:00.004-04:00

Continuing the strange trend of animal stories coming out of Connecticut ...

2009-07-28T12:41:00.003-04:00

This is odd. So odd that it almost sounds like the start of a really bad joke my father would email me. But, strangely enough, it is true.

From the Hartford Courant:

A 20-year-old driver caused a multi-car crash on Main Street Monday morning when his pet baby snakes escaped from his pants pockets, police said.

Angel Rolon, of New Britain, lost control of his SUV as he and a passenger scrambled to catch the two snakes, which had slithered down near the gas and brake pedals, police said.

Yes, jokes about trouser snakes could be made, but I'm going to refrain. Three cars were involved in the accident. Nobody was seriously injured. And, as far as I can tell, the snakes were all recovered.

If you're interested, the full (rather short) article on the incident can be found here.

Monkeys and alligators and possums, oh my!

2009-07-27T08:53:00.005-04:00

In an effort to safely rid Connecticut of unwanted exotic pets (isn't it kind of weird that the state needs to be concerned about people having exotic pets?), the Beardsley Zoo on Saturday held an amnesty day, allowing owners to drop off their animals with no questions asked. This, of course, springs from the chimpanzee attack earlier this year that left one person mauled. There's a nice article about the event over here at the Hartford Courant.

A couple highlights:

Luis Rivera drove down from West Hartford to drop off a 3-foot long alligator he took in a few years ago from "three girls who couldn't take care of it and didn't know what to do."

Rivera, who installs and maintains aquariums for a living, never gave the reptile a name because he always intended to get rid of it, if he could find a safe way to do so. He kept it in a 100-gallon tank, fed it "chicken wings, steak" and other food. He found the right home when he read a news story about the amnesty collection.

That's right, alligators in West Hartford! It's like a bad horror movie waiting to happen. And this wasn't the only alligator story in the article:

The Bernier family from Milford— Kevin, Alison and their 12-year-old son, Mark — dropped off their 2-foot alligator, "Allan," which some evicted tenants left behind four years ago in a third-floor apartment, a surprise to the Berniers.

The creature had doubled in size on its diet — including frozen pet-store-bought mice — and it had sprouted teeth and a nervous attitude and had outgrown its tank.

So the collection day was a godsend, Kevin Bernier said. Allan's departure gives the family sole tenancy of the room used for ironing and a home office.

"Like, I'm sad, but it tried to bite you," Mark said of the alligator, who was considered by neighborhood kids as an awesome pet.

****

If these aren't enough bizarre pet stories for you, check out the canary fighting ring that was busted up in Shelton. You read that correctly: a canary fighting ring. Not chickens or roosters. Little, tiny songbirds. Fighting to the death.

"Am I being punk'd?" asked neighbor John Coniglio, referring to a television show famous for playing pranks on celebrities. "I mean, this is crazy. I've never heard of a canary ring. I can't picture little canaries with razor blades taped to their feet or anything."

The raid christened 19 jailbirds along with $8,000 cash.

Adventures in poor punctuation: MiniBlast Lagoon

2009-07-21T10:32:00.005-04:00

The Professor and I recently visited the miniature golf course at Adventures at MiniBlast Lagoon in Cromwell (for an excellent review, visit the Putting Penguin's site over here). The course was really quite fun, but a typo on our scoring card left me a bit deflated:

Not only was I unable to find the Tom Cruise/Bryan Brown cinematic classic while strolling the grounds, but I got pegged by a TON of golf balls from the driving range! Kokomo, indeed.

Battle of the crunchy burgers

2009-07-20T15:19:00.007-04:00

Imagine, if you will, a boxing ring. Two fighters stand in opposite corners: one a tried-and-true favorite, a crowd pleaser with a long history, and the other a young whipper snapper straight from the hands of fame and fortune. Each cover similar terrain. Each come served on a white plate with a pickle.

Of course, the fighters I'm referring to here are cheeseburgers. Cheeseburgers with the ability to lace up boxing gloves and duke it out.

But these are not ordinary cheeseburgers I'm rattling on about (and giving arms and hands and egos and anger to). These two burgers have what very few cheeseburgers out in the land of all things patty-related offer: CRUNCH.

The first is the classic cheeseburger available at Shady Glen in Manchester. Constructed on a grill-top, it has 4 slices of orangy-yellow cheese spread both on the burger and the grill-top itself, resulting in a strangely crispy and crunchy Cheez-it flavored cheese shell. Here's a shoddy picture taken with a cell phone:

Yes, there is a burger in there. I promise.

The second pugilist, the young one, comes from the mind of ubiquitous television personality Bobby Flay, he of the battles with housewives and the various well-received restaurants and the calling of himself "Bobby" at the age of 44. Yes, Mr. Flay is now in the hamburger business (to be fair, he has been in the hamburger business for the past year) in the form of Bobby's Burger Palace, which recently opened shop at Mohegan Sun (just walk past the slot machines and old people chain smoking ... you can't miss it).

Anyway, one of the draws of the BBP is the Crunchburger, a double American cheese and potato chip feast, as seen here in a photo taken by a highly paid commercial photographer:

Let's ring this bell! Everyone keep it clean. I don't want a bloodbath!

Round one: The restaurant

First off, Shady Glen is a rather fun place to visit, from the old-school service counters to the labyrinthian nature of the table placement to the uniforms worn by the employees. Add in the little touches, like the doilies for under one's glass to the tiny cups of water given to each customer, and you can't go wrong popping in for a bite.

Bobby's Burger Palace, on the other hand, already has one strike against it because it's sitting in the middle of a casino. That being said, it has a cool, metropolitan vibe to it, with v-shaped community tables and funky light fixtures. Essentially the complete opposite of Shady Glen, BBP can almost make you forget you're in a void of desperation ... until the person next to you starts counting their chips or complaining about a pit boss.

Winner of round one: Shady Glen

Round two: Burger

The hamburger patty from Shady Glen is essentially a patty you've eaten about a million times: gray, circular, nondescript. There's nothing much to it, and the bun it sits on is pretty plain and simple. What makes the burger uniquely tasty is the crunchy cheese.

The BBP Crunchburger, though slightly smaller than I expected, came perfectly cooked to order: medium with lots of pink. The cheese on top was oozy, the bun flecked with sesame seeds. And the potato chips were surprisingly crunchy. However, they didn't add all that much for flavor outside of a saltiness. The condiment options, ranging from the typical to chipotle ketchup, added extra kick.

Winner of round two: Though close, the victory goes to the BBP Crunchburger

Round three: Extras

Shady Glen offers some pretty amazing ice cream flavors. The prices are also incredibly reasonable. The Professor and I had dinner for under $15. And, as mentioned earlier, the location (at least at the original Shady Glen - I haven't been to the other shop), is really a treat to visit.

There's also a really bizarre mural along one wall that I think I could look at all night:

Who are these elfin people and how are they able to carry ice cream cones in a picnic basket without any of them melting?

Over at Bobby's Burger Palace they serve some mean milkshakes (with real whipped cream). The fries are excellent, as well. Being as they're inside a casino, the prices for everything could have been much higher than they were, with burgers hovering around $7.50 and sides like fries ranging in between $2.50 and $3.00. Of course, while you're eating you're reminded that you're padding the wallet of this face:

Frankly, I think I'd rather stare at the picnicking elves.

Winner round three: Shady Glen

So, victory goes to Shady Glen. They make a decent burger, but the cheese is really where it's at. Bobby's Burger Place probably does offer the better food, but there's something about the feeling of sitting in the sixty-year-old Shady Glen that makes up for some of its shortcomings.

Scary gumball machine

2009-07-16T13:02:00.003-04:00

This gumball machine was spotted at the Manchester movie theater:

It kind of speaks for itself, though I can't help but wonder what happened to that creepy child's eyebrows? Was that part of his gang initiation?

I can't stare at it for very long. The kid's eyes follow you across the room.

Oh, the places you'll go ... maybe.

2009-07-15T12:51:00.008-04:00

If you're like me, you like to spend your weekends inside gigantic convention halls and exposition centers, learning about things you may never need and meeting celebrities you have never heard of. Who needs daylight, am I right? And Connecticut is right there with you, supplying these events like they're going out of style (heck, we like these things so much the Hartford Expo is only 2 miles from the Hartford Convention Center).

Here are a few of my favorite upcoming events:

Did you watch The Wrestler and think, "You know, I think I need a firsthand look at that lifestyle?" Then keep August 2nd open, because that's when the Pro Wrestling Icons convention hits the Courtyard Marriott in Cromwell. See Terry Funk! See The Giant Silva! See .... this guy:

I guess he's supposed to be an umpire? Wait, I get it, he's from New York!

Anyway, don't take my word for it. Here's their commercial:

Oh, it's going to be quite the event. Lots of greased men, lots of stringy, sweaty hair, lots of women in tight tops and too much make-up. Hey, according to the website, King Kong Bundy is going to be there. That's all the advertising I need. I'm sold. Who do I give my $99 to? (Yes, the "superticket" to the expo, which allows one autograph and one photo-op with each special guest, costs $99. Make sure you bring your own camera. They don't supply the photos, only the opportunities. And don't haggle. Some of these guys probably need the money.) Just promise to not beat me up. I'm fragile.

Wrestling not your thing? Then you're probably a woman. And, since you're also most likely a total stereotype of what women have been trying to break free from for the past, oh, forever, then maybe the 7th Annual Connecticut Women's Expo (sponsored by Comcast) is more your speed. According to their advertisements, they have everything the typical woman wants in an expo: psychic readings, FREE samples (yes, FREE with capital letters), shopping, fashion shows, beauty makeovers, seminars on things like diets (I've been there, sister), and ... and this is big ... SOAP STARS! Yes, that's right, on September 12th (and 13th), you can get your psychic-loving, vendor-pawing mitts on none other than Lucas from Days of Our Lives!

I know if I were to meet him I'd ask him why he's always such a snake! "You don't need to be a drunk, Lucas!" I'd yell. "All of your relationships turn to mush because of you!" I ... I've said too much.

To be fair, a portion of the proceeds from the 7th Annual Connecticut Women's Expo (sponsored by Comcast) go to the Susan G. Komen fund. So, while you sit in on that sex therapy seminar, you'll know that at least part of your $10 admission is going to a good cause. Of course, you probably will have already known that, thanks to the free psychic reading.

Now, I know what some of you are saying: "Ben, I'm neither a wrestling fan OR a stereotype of the female species. I'm fun and have a family. Is there anything on the horizon for me, or should I just pack my things and move?" All I can say in response is, "Put that Samsonite back in the basement and cancel the U-Haul, my friend!"

My final awesome upcoming expo is just for you!

No, it isn't a scuba expo (but, man, that'd be cool. I imagine there'd be some neat harpoon guns at such an event). It's the Lego Kidsfest, and it's happening November 20-22. Dude, there's going to be so much stuff! Legos! And more Legos! I bet there's going to be BIG, BIG things made out of Legos! Maybe a life-size M. Jodi Rell! Or a big ol' Mark Twain mustache! That'd take quite a few gray blocks.

Seriously, though, I need to borrow my nephew come November. My inner child really, really wants to be in a giant room full of Legos. And my nephew'd probably have fun, too.

So, there you have it, something for everyone: the angry guy, the June Cleaver, and the children (young and old). Now if only they somehow combined all three of these ... I can see it now: Lego wrestlers giving women advice on nutrition, while soap opera stars battle it out in the square circle. Good times ... good times ...

The strangest chalk outline ...

2009-07-13T12:53:00.003-04:00

From this week's Ocean State Job Lot flyer (I admit, the OSJL, Job Lot, or Ocean State - the nickname changes depending on my mood - is a guilty pleasure. They've got some good deals. Seriously.). Is the average consumer so dumb that we really need the dashed outline?

"It was the weirdest thing, Sarge. When we found the body, which, as you can see, is now represented by these dashes, it had this wire contraption inside of it."

"Son, that's a genuine 'Beer Can' Chicken Roaster! Our suspect must buy his goods at the Job Lot! He may be a murderer, but he knows where to find sweet deals!"

What's in a name?

2009-07-12T11:47:00.002-04:00

Since becoming a member of the Nutmeg state, I've always wondered how Connecticut earned its unusual nickname. Well, thanks to a back issue of the fun publication Hog River Journal, my questions have been answered. Many of you lifers probably know this tale, but for those who don't, read on:

During the years surrounding 1800, Connecticut sea captains actively traded Wethersfield onions—used largely to feed Caribbean slaves—for much-sought-after nutmeg, a spice grown only on the West Indian island of Granada and in the Mollucas islands of Indonesia. Also during this time, young Connecticut men ventured in ever-increasing numbers to the American South and Midwest to peddle the clocks, buttons, needles, and other sundries being produced by a host of small, new Connecticut manufactories.

These Yankee peddlers loved having the hard-shelled nutmegs—durable, light, and profitable—among their goods. They were highly desired and always easy to sell. So easy that, so the story goes, some of the craftier—and less ethical—of these Connecticut lads took to mixing wooden nutmegs in with the real ones, simultaneously increasing both their profits and their “nutmeg” supply. They, of course, counted on the fact that the purchaser wouldn’t discover the difference until the trader himself was back in the Land of Steady Habits (or was that the Provision State?). As a result of these and similar trickster-like practices, Connecticut Yankees’ reputation for clever-but-not-fully-principled trading spread widely and quickly, and the homeland of these likeable but shrewd hucksters became known as “The Nutmeg State.”

Just as their forefathers had done when they adopted as their own the song “Yankee Doodle”—a tune originally intended to ridicule Yankees for being crude rustics—Connecticans took to “Nutmeg State” the way “snake oil” took to “salesman.” At an early and quite formal dinner gathering of the Connecticut Historical Society, one of the dignitaries—following a numerous and extended series of toasts preceding his own—offered this salute to the assembled guests, “To the Nutmeg State,” he said, lifting his glass yet again. “ Where shall we find a grater?”

Yes, it's true. The nickname comes from bad businessmen. From deceit. And from people too daft to know that they were being mocked. Ah, New England. You've got to love it.

You can read the full article over here.

Made in the dark

2009-07-08T15:56:00.003-04:00

The Nutmeg has been waterlogged. Hard rains, lightning storms, hail, and even a tornado in Wethersfield (and yet the DMV still stands ...) have hit lately. It has gotten to the point where, sadly, power outages have become common. The Professor and I were in the dark along with 30,000 others just yesterday (thus my excuse for not writing until now).

So, with this strange turn of weather pounding us here in Connecticut, I've begun to think about activities to do when the electricity inevitably cuts out during the next deluge.

My best idea, as I'm sure you've already guessed, is becoming an expert shadow puppeteer. I've got the tools: hands and a flashlight. And it seems like a pretty open market. I can't tell you of many local expert shadow puppeteers. You know, maybe I'll start some new trend. I've even got a book called "Shadow Art," where everything from geese to sea anemones (I'm not kidding, this book is almost 300 pages long) is displayed in all its black and white glory.

The only problem I've run into thus far is my realization of how completely inept my fingers are when it comes to bizarre contortions. I've got the bird down. Dog is easy. But, my God, have you tried to make a silhouette tiger? You've got to get a hood for your arms! And don't even get into making a mouse. Miniature wire whiskers between your fingers. Before you know it, you end up with a trunk full of props like that weirdo Carrot Top.

Some of these puppets are so difficult that the author of the book, Sophie Collins, provides a chapter on finger and hand exercises to prevent cramps. Maybe I need to play more computer games or take up the piano or something. Get my fingers stretched out.

On second thought, maybe I'll just read a book the next time the power blanks out. Shadow puppets are too much work. Besides, if I'm going to die in a horrible lightning accident, I'd rather not go out making a horsey with my hands. I'll die with a book in my hands. Something manly. Hemingway or some Ian Fleming.

Learning (the hard way) what Ikea instructions are trying to tell me

2009-07-02T14:25:00.006-04:00

Ikea. Inexpensive items, a little elbow grease, and voila: a full home on a budget. The Professor and I have frequented the Swedish box store giant off and on for years. I have assembled a dining room table, three cabinets, one chair, a long CD tower, and one end table. And I have never once gotten injured in the process of said constructions.

So when it came to mounting a magnetic knife strip, I had little worries. There wasn't much to it: a magnetic strip, a mounting bracket, and two washers.

Then I looked briefly at the instructions, specifically step number two:

"What is the person in the right image doing wrong?" I wondered. Is lightning striking them? Are they sliding their fingers to the left and right and causing some sort of magnetic friction? It reminded me of old issues of Highlights. What's different in one picture from the other?

I dropped the instructions and began to look at the pieces. The washers went behind the bracket. The bracket gets screwed into the wall. Then the magnetic front gets dropped onto the bracket. I placed the washers on the counter and held the long strips. I brought them close together. Again I wondered: "What's the problem with picture number two?"

If you guessed that the person on the right, Mr. No No we'll call him, has his fingers stuck between the two pieces of metal, one of which contains a long string of powerful magnets, you'd be right. If you also guessed that I was doing the exact same thing as Mr. No No when holding the two pieces precariously close together while standing in my kitchen, you'd also be correct and I would like to have you sitting next to me the next time I do something quite as stupid as what I'm about to confess.

I brought the pieces together. I never once thought about the magnetic pull between the two. Then it happened. It snapped shut like a lobster claw. The Professor, casually observing to this point, looked at me as if I was joking, as if I was possibly pretending to crush my finger between two pieces of metal. Then she saw that the entire magnetic knife holder was dangling from the pinched pad of my fingertip. I danced around the room like a fool or a Woody Allen character being portrayed by Woody Allen. "Helphelphelphelphelp!" I said, knowing fully well there was nothing she could do to help. The Professor flailed her arms.

I don't know what was worse: the shock or the pain. Either way, I had to do something. Logic would have had me grab a butter knife to pry the pieces apart from each other. But logic doesn't work when a metal knife rack is hanging from a quarter inch of skin. The only thing I could think to do was grab the holder with my free hand and yank out my finger. So that's what I did. It hurt. The pad instantly puffed to twice its normal size and a nice bite of skin was removed. I will spare you with photos. But I laughed. I laughed at the pain and the ridiculousness and the sight I imagined any passing neighbor saw for that brief, ten second burst of panic.

Thankfully, ice brought the swelling down.

Afterward, I looked at the instructions once more. The obtuse imagery made perfect sense. Mr. No No on the right was clearly doing something wrong. Perhaps that is why they also include this image in their instructions:

Maybe if I had called Ikea with my direct line, like Mr. Question does in the image, I could have asked what was Mr. No No doing wrong. Instead, I had to learn the hard way.

Unappealing food products

2009-06-30T11:27:00.003-04:00

I never realized how much a simple color balance error could ruin the look of photographed food. Something must have gone wrong at the printing press, because the greens and blues seemed all out of whack in this recent grocery flyer:

Anyone up for some cold cuts? Mmmm, nothing says flavor like some blue salami. And the pale turkey is simply delicious!

How about some pasta salad? What, not green enough for you? So what if it got left outside all day!

This has nothing to do with me or West Hartford ...

2009-06-25T16:37:00.002-04:00

Chris Knox is, among other things, a musician from New Zealand. A pretty prolific guy, I got into one of his bands, Tall Dwarfs, several years back.

Anyway, earlier this month Chris had a stroke. And since then his family and friends have been keeping an ongoing blog of his slow recovery. It's a pretty interesting read and something that truly makes me realize that blogs can be useful and not just nonsense about cats or complaining about the world.

Give it a read over at: http://chrisknox.blogtown.co.nz/.

A walk in the center ...

2009-06-24T08:37:00.005-04:00

In recent visits to the center of town I've noticed what seems to be an overabundance of empty storefronts staring at me with sad "for lease" signs in their windows.

How many of these are there, I wondered.

Feeling the need to answer my own question, I decided to do a little walking tour with my camera. The trip was to be arduous. I made sure to pack extra supplies, my tent, and a spare set of clothes. My goal: snap a picture of every empty storefront in Blue Back Square and on the center's main stretches (South Main Street, Farmington between Main and Lasalle, and Lasalle Road).

Here's the result:

Sorry, but it's Debbie Downer time. The town center is beginning to look like some impossible 7-10 split. At what point does this become an epidemic? I counted 23 empty storefronts (though, as you see, I only photographed 22 - the 23rd had some people hanging out in front of it that looked tough and willing to punch a weak man with a camera). Granted, some of these spaces have signs promising new shops in the near future, but if we've all learned anything from the "Chow - Coming Soon" debacle (which, I noticed, has finally been removed), we may not want to hold our collective breaths for very long waiting for some of these places to open (cough ... Green Tea ... cough).

Now, if I'm really ambitious, I'll take a walk down Park Road ...

The South Quaker Lane sidewalk has a question for you ...

2009-06-23T11:35:00.004-04:00

Though, since there's no punctuation, perhaps the little pixie that did this is trying to make more of a zen-like statement:

Where is my mind. My mind is where.

Old Gloria

2009-06-19T17:11:00.006-04:00

I was six years old (almost seven) when Hurricane Gloria hit New England back in September of 1985. I remember what you'd expect a little kid to remember: the noise, being scared, seeing trees cut in half, not really understanding exactly what was going on when the eye of the storm hit and everything was calm; that sort of thing.

Our power in Massachusetts was knocked out for about two or three days. It was fun at first, then the reality of the situation took hold. My mom grew angry because the food in the freezer went bad. My dad became frustrated and convinced that the electric company ignored small towns like the one where we lived. And I was panicked because of a television show. You see, the series premiere of Steven Spielberg's Amazing Stories was to air that Sunday. And Gloria was going to make me miss it.

Amazing Stories wasn't just any show to me. It was the show, a program my father and I were waiting to watch with baited breath since we had heard of its creation earlier that summer (Needless to say, Indiana Jones and E.T. were rather big in my household).

But big, stupid Gloria had to come and spoil the party.

I remember that Sunday evening almost more than the storm itself. Evening was beginning to roll into town. Still no power. My dad had all but given up hope. We figured, "Hey, they'll rerun the episode sometime around the holidays. We'll catch it." But we were disappointed. Stupid Gloria, I remember thinking. Ruined everything.

And then, right before the program was to start (I can't remember if it was a 7 or 8 o'clock show), boom, the lights flickered on. We were dumbstruck, like we had never experienced electricity in our lives prior to that moment. My father and I scrambled to the television and flipped it on. We turned the rotor box to adjust our antenna. It clicked into place. And there it was. Amazing Stories. The power came back just in time.

It was a miracle! It was an amazing story!

For about five minutes.

The power went back out after the opening credits. The story wasn't so amazing, after all.

We did eventually get power back that night. Of course, by then Amazing Stories was over and I was headed off to bed.

Now, you're probably wondering why I'm writing about this. Well, there's two reasons. First, this Sunday is Father's Day, and thinking back on this story reminds me of some of the fun times I've had with my father over the years. And two, I came across this funny (mostly because of its age) compilation of Connecticut news broadcasts during the peak of Gloria's wrath.

So, to all the fathers out there, enjoy your Sunday. And for all the storm enthusiasts, here's a video for you to watch:

A trailing spouse walks into a bar ...

2009-06-15T10:07:00.007-04:00

I walked inside and was greeted by the smell of freshly cut lumber and the sweet lullaby sounds of Kenny G. I asked an employee a question and got a confused face in return. They referred to a spiral notepad before finally telling me what I wanted to know.

Sounds like an average trip to Home Depot, no?

Well, in this case, it wasn't. This was actually the first five minutes of my recent visit to Taqueria Tavern, one of West Hartford's newest Mexican restaurants.

I've written about TT before. Back when they were still building out the space, I poked fun at their makeshift sign, which reminded me of the cover to an old Berenstain Bears book. Surprisingly, the sign is still up.

And now that the place is up and running, I felt the need to try them on for size.

The Kenny G music seemed like a bad omen. I mean, who wants to eat a taco while listening to Kenny G? I thought dentists had some kind of stranglehold on the rights to that kind of music?

But I didn't let it bother me.

Not being much of a drinker, I ended up ordering a beer instead of something more decadent. The group I was with got a few margaritas, which, according to their critiques, were quite good.

As for the food, the menu is fairly simple. I do not know if this is temporary, but entrees pretty much fall into two categories: tacos and burritos (and, what with this place being a taqueria, I wouldn't be surprised if this is how the menu will stay). I found my tacos (I got the carnitas) to be rather good but unfortunately sparse in portions. They weren't entrees as much as lunch portions or bar snacks.

Now, I usually complain about how MUCH food restaurants serve (and we wonder why our country is morbidly obese), but looking down at my plate, I kind of felt a bit ripped off. There was no more than a tablespoon of beans and rice that accompanied the tacos. And the tacos themselves were kind of empty. This isn't to say that the food wasn't enjoyable. It certainly was. But with Los Adobes right across the street offering the same food up for, I assume, slightly less price, I would have thought the folks at Taqueria Tavern would have done something to one-up the competition.

Overall, though, I suppose I can't complain. Our server seemed to get a handle on things after a few minutes and the food was decent. The only problem was that I was still hungry by the time the check came.

Taqueria Tavern is on Park Road in West Hartford, right next to Plan B Burgers.

Things learned at Celebrate! West Hartford (with pictures!)

2009-06-13T16:26:00.006-04:00

Just got back from Celebrate! West Hartford. Here are a few things I learned:

• You never know what you'll find when you buy a book at the Noah Webster Library book sale (according to the date on the back, this little one just turned nine).

• Mixed in with the average vendors are some true artists like Tomas Savrda. His shadowbox pieces are quite beautiful.

• Dunk tanks are always entertaining.

• Also, when it comes to dunk tanks, men have to do a lot more audience baiting than women in bikinis.

• Apparently, spinal checks are the new black. Seriously. I lost count as to how many free spinal checks I could have received.

• Guessing how many Lego pieces are in a mini Lego man is probably a futile endeavor. Nevertheless, I gave it my best shot (my guess? 10,242).

• Carnies aren't the best when it comes to spelling.

Buy a book

2009-06-10T09:24:00.004-04:00

As I'm finding myself more and more committed to doing, I'm plugging the Friends of the West Hartford Library book sale taking place this weekend as part of Celebrate! West Hartford (can anyone explain to me why the exclamation point is after the word celebrate and not after West Hartford? I suppose it would seem more like a command if it came after West Hartford. Either way, I don't know if the punctuation is entirely necessary, as the word celebrate brings enough excitement that the exclamation point is kind of redundant, no?).

Thanks to the rough patch the country has been through recently, libraries across this great land of ours have been busier than ever (well, not ever ever, but you know what I mean). And yet, also thanks to this rough patch, town budgets are getting slashed and libraries are being forced to cut staff and business hours.

How can you help reverse this trend? By buying a book or two at the FOTWHL book sale, turkey!

Here's the 411:

When - June 11 (5 p.m. - 9 p.m.), June 12 (9 a.m. - 5 p.m.), & June 13 (9 a.m. - 4 p.m.)

Where - The Main Meeting Room, Noah Webster Library (20 South Main Street, West Hartford)

As for the other Ws and the H:

Who - You

What - Buy a book

Why - To keep the library from only offering old, crusted copies of The Da Vinci Code ... and nothing else!

How - You can drive there, or walk, or ride a bike, or bum a ride.

Louis Lunch

2009-06-09T21:42:00.006-04:00

One hundred and nine years ago, a man entered Louis Lunch in New Haven and asked for a quick meal. He was served a broiled beef patty on two slices of sandwich bread. And thus the hamburger, according to lore, was born.

Okay, history lesson over. Fast forward to today.

The Professor and I were down in New Haven to shop at Ikea (it was very exciting, but not as exciting as this Pavement fan's recent trip). As we finished the long strange excursion, filling our shopping cart with far more than we ever intended, we realized we had worked up quite an appetite. Though the 50 cent hot dogs and Swedish meatballs were tempting, I just couldn't find a reason to eat a meal in a gigantic box store. So we decided to find Louis Lunch and see not only where the classic American sandwich was born, but what one of these Louis burgers tasted like.

The place is small. Very small. Small in a "I hope you are comfortable eating with strangers" kind of way. And it feels like a dungeon or set piece from an old Roger Corman/Vincent Price production. This isn't meant to be an insult. I actually really liked the dark corners, the strange wooden cubby-hole seats, and the endless graffiti carvings. It is, for lack of better terms, unique and uncompromised.

The folks running the show know the regulars. They're also are Red Sox fans, which is nice. That being said, it was pretty obvious that we were first timers as we bumbled our way inside, bouncing from seat to seat and waiting in the complete wrong area to order.

Thankfully, when we finally were able to get our bearings and bellied up to the counter, ordering was easy. We could get a hamburger or a cheeseburger. That's about all. Then there was the big decision of potato salad or chips. We went with the potato salad, as you can see below:

Now, don't let that paper plate or plastic fork fool you, Louis Lunch serves serious food. The potato salad was tangy and rich and delicious.

After a few minutes, our burgers came up. We got the straight up Louis standard: medium rare with onions, tomato and cheese.

Louis Lunch has a strict condiment rule: no ketchup, no mustard. Being as I'm a heavy mustard-on-burger advocate, I had a slight hesitation taking my first bite. Needless to say, my fears were quickly squashed. The burger was juicy and tasty, so juicy that the bread seemed to be included more for its functional sponging qualities than its flavor.

What was nice about the burger was the fact that it was as close to a "pure" burger you can get. The meat wasn't seasoned; there wasn't any special sauce. It was just a nice hamburger. A hamburger I would expect the hardcore burger fan would love.

We filled up and headed home. And maybe, one hundred and nine years from now, some future blogger will be writing about their experience at Louis Lunch. Something tells me it won't be very different than the one I had today.

Regret to inform

2009-06-05T10:11:00.005-04:00

We all get it: that thought that if we had only done A we could have prevented B from happening. And every so often, regardless of our mind's attempts to rationalize the situation, the bugger refuses to let go. It sits in the back of our head and gnaws away until we start to wish we had a time machine. Truth be told, though, I wouldn't know the first thing about getting plutonium from Libyan terrorists (let alone how to make a fake bomb out of old pinball machine parts).

An example of this: The Professor and I were driving home from the movies last night and I decided to swing past the old apartment to see if I could spy on what the new tenants had done with the place (yes, this is pretty lame, I admit). We did a quick drive-by, and, as luck would have it, no one appeared to be home.

But there was an opened window. Facing the main road. On the porch. With easy access. It basically was screaming, "Come, questionable neighbors, and rob me blind."

No, we didn't go inside.

We went home. And that's when I began to feel the gnaw.

I had met the new tenants, a pair of guys, when they first were looking at the apartment. Unlike other people who came by those last weeks, I didn't bother to drop a hint as to why we had chosen, after less than a year (we had signed a 10-month lease when we first moved down), to pack up and go. They were guys, I thought at the time. Guys can handle themselves.

But the gnaw was there. I started to think of horrible things happening to these new people. I started to think that if someone was brazen enough to steal our car radio when the car was parked in the garage, they'd be more than happy to enter an apartment through a porch-level window. I began to regret biting my tongue when those guys came to look at the apartment.

Then ration took over. Who's dumb enough to leave a porch-level window open, in the middle of the night, when nobody's home? I thought. It was enough. I went to sleep.

This morning I got up for my morning run. Once I got onto the road I began to think about that opened window again. It wouldn't hurt if I swung over there. I can see if anyone's home. If so, I can spill my guts. I'll tell them about the car radio, about the noisy people next door who we suspected were drug dealers. Okay, maybe I won't go that far, but I'll give them fair warning. I'll tell them that, hey, I don't want to come off as your mother or anything, but you may not want to leave this window opened when you're not home. I pointed myself toward the old neighborhood.

It was when I turned onto South Highland from Farmington when my stomach let out. Off in the distance I could see police cruisers. The lights were flashing. Yellow tape was stretched across the road. I'm too late. Someone broke in and murdered them. I ran faster.

The closer I got, the more the picture came into view. The scene was close to the old place, but it wasn't AT the apartment. There had been a car accident. A really horrible car accident. A car was flipped over; another was crushed into its side. Amazingly, everyone had survived, though two people had been brought to the hospital.

My heartbeat came down. Rational thought took over again. I looked at the old apartment. The window was closed. The driveway was empty of cars. Everything appeared safe. This is not my responsibility. I'm not their mother. Sometimes we all have to learn from our mistakes. Besides, I'm probably blowing this out of proportion. I'm sure everything will be fine, outside of the noise and other horrors the Professor and I had to deal with when living there.

Instead of lollygagging, I continued to run. When I got home, I started to write this post. The gnaw has subsided.

Though, to be honest, I know I'm going to swing by there some night after work, just to make sure that window is still closed.

Mysteries of West Hartford: The Glow Crosses dispenser at Waldbaum's

2009-06-01T13:16:00.007-04:00

What you see here is Waldbaum's supermarket in West Hartford. Waldbaum's is your typical grocery store in many respects. But, along with its Bishops Corner neighbor Crown market, it also focuses its efforts toward the Jewish community of West Hartford by stocking a large selection of Kosher food products.

Anyway, just this past weekend I was in to buy a few items and, being as I'm a gigantic child, I made sure to stop at the exit to see what was available from the store's gumball dispensers.

There was a cool fake mustache dispenser that piqued my interest, some candy dispensers, and then there was this:

Glow Crosses? Really?

Now, perhaps this is just the cynic in me, but doesn't it seem strange that the owners of said candy dispenser chose to put a Glow Cross dispenser in Waldbaum's? Granted, I realize that I, along with many other shoppers that frequent the store, are not of the Jewish faith, but still, it feels a little pointed.

And then there's the question of how many kids actually want a glow-in-the-dark plastic cross necklace. I know that the seven-year-old version of myself wouldn't have wanted one, and I was an altar boy.

"Timmy, I've got two quarters. Do you want anything from the dispensers? Some candy or a fake mustache?"

"Please, Mother, I only want a Glow Cross."

"Are you sure? I mean, there's chocolate and gum and -"

"Silence, woman! Now give me those quarters!"

I suppose the true test is to see if the Crown has a Glow Cross dispenser, as well. I can't say I've seen them at any other market. Then again, I do the rest of my shopping at Whole Foods, where candy dispensers are a big no-no.

"Perfect Burger" update

2009-05-29T11:49:00.002-04:00

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about a survey which was being conducted by a local radio station. They were looking for the best burger in the Hartford area and, at the time of my writing, Red Robin was in the lead for the title.

Well, the polls closed last week over at DRC-FM, and I'm happy to say Red Robin did not take the title of "Perfect Burger." That honor went to GoldBurgers in Newington. Can't say I've ever been there, but I'm glad an actual local restaurant won, rather than a chain.

I'd point you to the results page on DRC's website, but they've already moved onto bigger and better things. Those "good time rock n' rollers" are always on the move.

What BJ's is really trying to tell you

2009-05-27T07:52:00.009-04:00

Advertising. When it's good, it gives us information while being entertaining; when it's bad, it gives us headaches and the occasional groan-inducing scramble to switch television stations. And yet, regardless of quality, all advertising is done under such a microscope, passing through the hands of agencies, production companies, and vendors, that more often than not there are loads of tiny symbols hidden within the piece. Some of these symbols are there to influence the mind subconsciously, while others may try to make the product more relatable to a certain demographic.

Such symbolism in visual advertising comes directly from symbolism in art, which has been around as long as people have been creating canvases or scrawling on cave walls. One of the chief examples of such talk is Jan van Eyck's 15th century masterpiece The Arnolfini Wedding:

On first glance, the painting seems nothing more than a portrait of a couple, yet further investigation shows multiple symbols that offer views on gender roles, class, and domesticity. The woman is near the bed, while her husband is at the window; she is domestic, while he is of the world. The small dog at their feet shows loyalty. The single lit candle on the chandelier may stand for the holy spirit, while the fruits near the window most likely represent fertility.

Honestly, the symbolism in this painting could fill a book (I know I once wrote a 15 page paper on it and felt I didn't even scratch the tip of the iceberg).

But we're not here for art history. We're here because of that pesky headline I wrote: What BJ's is trying to tell you. Mysterious sounding, I know.

Here is the photo that accompanied an advertisement I received in the mail from BJ's Wholesale just the other day:

It's a poor photo, there's no question. Everything looks very staged. The people are positioned in an awkward way that no family would ever stand. And there's some strange Photoshopping happening at the bottom with shadows.

But when studied closer, some very disturbing comments about family and gender begin to lift from the page.

First, the males are both higher in the image than the females. The poor "Mom" character is on her knees, while "Dad" stands tall above everyone with an assuring hand on the shoulder of his son. The guys are the dominant force in the family, the bread winners, the money. This thought is also displayed by the decision to have Dad's hand on the shopping cart. He's in control of the family, while Mom's the one down on the ground.

That's not to say that women are nothing in the image. Their placement in the foreground gives them some dominance. To me it seems that BJ's may be saying "Men may be in control, they may be behind everything (literally and figuratively), but women know how to shop."

The dominance of male over female also is evident in the choice of BJ's to fill the space behind the males with products while letting the space behind the females drift into a white void. What does this say about BJ's thoughts of women? Do the products behind the males represent knowledge? Ability? Power? Or is the blank white space just an aesthetic decision to make the photo flow more into the text that accompanied it in the original advertisement?

Of course, anything is up for interpretation.

Look at what both the boy and girl are handing to their same-gendered parent:

Yes, that's right, daughter is holding eggs while son is holding mounds of hot dogs. Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out. And the way the father is looking down at the son makes it look like they're having some sort of "life lesson" conversation about what those hot dogs are for.

Why is BJ's telling us that women carry eggs and men carry wieners? Are they trying to reinforce some sort of "family" image? Does it tie into the symbolism of superiority of men that the image is already displaying?

Honestly, I don't know. It is pretty creepy, though, don't you think?

Now, I know there are plenty of smart people out there who read this blog. What do you see in this advertisement photo? Am I crazy for seeing the things I've just said? Is BJ's Wholesale really trying to push some strange "Man/Woman" family dominance on us all?

Or am I just seeing thing?

I have not vanished

2009-05-26T17:06:00.002-04:00

Contrary to reports generated by myself, I have not disappeared. I did not get trampled in the Memorial Day parade. I did not eat some bad hot dogs at a cookout.

I've just been out of things to observe the past few days.

However, I'll be back tomorrow with a nice little piece about one of our gigantic superstores and their odd advertising practices.

Until then, hope you all have a good night.

Long weekend tidbits

2009-05-22T16:54:00.006-04:00

• This Sunday will mark the final curtain call for the Park Road Playhouse. In my short time here, I've never been to a performance, but it's sad to see it go. Here's an article detailing the closure.

• Did you hear that there's a zombie movie that only cost $70 to make that premiered at the Cannes Film Festival? It's true.

• West Hartford's Memorial Day parade will begin at 10AM on Monday. The parade starts at the corner of Woodrow Street and Farmington Avenue and runs all the way to the Town Hall. Attendance is encouraged ...

• Is there a fight brewing between TV pitchmen Billy Mays and Vince "Shamwow/Slap Chop/prostitute biter" Shlomi Offer? According to a report from Pittsburgh's KDKA, Shlomi may have to start watching out for the bearded wonder:

He's still fighting with the bad boy of the infomercials, Vince Shlomi. Just mention "ShamWow!" to Mays and the sparks start flying.

"Sham pow!" said Mays. "What do you think? I'm going to take the high road on this but be careful what you name your product. I had the original product 'Zorbeez.' It laid the foundation. What he did was build the house. Now, I'm moving back in. I'm going to take back what's mine and if you're out there Vince ... 'ShamPow!'... okay?"

• And, finally, speaking of scary things hunting you down, there's the story of Ex-UConn and New England Patriots football player Eric Naponski, who was arrested this week in connection with a murder that occurred in 1994. Naponski is accused of shooting a man six times as part of a life insurance scheme.

His lawyer, one Jeffrey Chartier, is quoted as saying, "I don't know why they made such a big dog-and-pony show out of it," when referring to the arrest. Hmmm, it might have something to do with the six bullets fired into a man's chest. Plus, we're in Connecticut, we need some action.

A Green Day rant

2009-05-22T10:07:00.006-04:00

Oh, Green Day, must you continue to churn out these goofy "political" albums? They're beginning to make people take you seriously.

Remember when you used to be just as bad but sang about things like playing with yourself? Remember when you were famous because you threw mud at people? Those were the days.

This morning I read an article on Yahoo! Music concerning your frustration over Wal-Mart's album censorship policy. Essentially a rehashing of Wal-Mart's long-standing rule in which the box store giant refuses to shelve albums that carry a "Parental Advisory" sticker, the article made it sound like you just suddenly discovered that stores like Wal-Mart censor music. The truth is, however, that anyone with any interest in music already knows that this has been Wal-Mart's policy for years and that lots and lots of bands have refused to conform to the corporate monster's wishes, which means that their albums have not been stocked on shelves at the store.

Now, you're right when you say that it's ridiculous that one can go into a Wal-Mart to buy a violent video game, an R rated movie, and a gun, but they can't buy an album that has a sticker saying that people swear in a song (and the whole "Parental Advisory" sticker policy is a massive joke, with record companies deciding what does and doesn't deserve a label), but, c'mon guys, you had to know about what you were getting into before you started this now-public feud. If anything, Billie Joe, you should be arguing with your record label. They're the ones who decided to slap the "PA" sticker on your CD to begin with. But maybe that would be biting the hand that feeds you a bit too much, eh? Oh, man, that would be punk rock!

But things weren't always bad between you and Wal-Mart, were they? Didn't Wal-Mart offer some sort of "exclusive" version of your International Superhits! album? Yep, here it is. It's funny how you must have been completely comfortable to get in bed with Wal-Mart just a year or so ago, isn't it, but now you're soooooo angry at them?

In the Yahoo! Music article, Mike Dirnt, you're quoted saying "As the biggest record store in the America, they (Wal-Mart) should probably have an obligation to sell people the correct art."

I agree with you 100%. However, when you look at your track record, you guys seemed perfectly fine to offer censored versions of your music before you became a band that talks about "important" topics (though, honestly, American Idiot is a pretty flimsy political statement when you really give it a listen). I mean, your first radio hit, "Longview" was heavily censored for language in order to appear on the radio. Heck, even "American Idiot" was censored for radio play. So, if you, as a band, are okay with censoring your lyrics and "art" in order to peddle your songs over the airwaves, why are you making a big deal about this whole Wal-Mart thing?

Hmmm ... Maybe it's because you're trying to stir up more interest in showing how "political" you are now, how "angry" you are with the corporate giants, even though, and let's be honest here, you are beyond becoming a similar giant, charging about $50 for a ticket to your concerts. Maybe you should change your name to Greed Day (okay, that was a bit low).

Could this "feud" be just another facade in your evolving image? Have you been talking to Madonna?

Perhaps this whole nonsense is just another identity shift of an already over-costumed musical act. We all know how much you've changed. After all, we must remember that you are still the guys who named an album Dookie and who aped The Clash in your early years to the point of exhaustion.

Whatever the reason, Green Day, I just hope that, over time, people begin to listen to true "political" songs from our current era and realize that what you've become is nothing more than AOR dream, a simple political statement for those afraid to bother thinking beyond the obvious.

That's all. Now, go back to putting on your eyeliner and moping. Thanks for your time.

P.S. If you're looking for a concept album that actually does work when it comes to the fear of living in the scary George W. world that we all suffered through, check out The Thermals' The Body, the Blood, the Machine. Absolutely brilliant!

Burger lovers unite! We can't let this happen!

2009-05-19T11:03:00.003-04:00

I was cruising this morning and listening to the "good time rock n' roll" tunes on 102.9, DRC-FM (have I mentioned how poor the choices are for radio stations here?), when I happened to hear that the station is having a "search of ... the perfect burger" poll.

Needless to say, my interests were piqued, as I'm always up for a tasty burger.

Turns out, though, as of 8:30 this morning, Red Robin is the leading vote getter. Seriously! Red "according to our website we have over 250 locations in the United States" Robin!

Burger fans, we must unite and take over this poll. We all know that there are plenty of better places to grab a burger in the greater Hartford area than Red "endless basket of fries, hey, look at all this wacky stuff on the wall!" Robin!

Hop on over to the DRC website here and click on the "The Perfect" tab to vote. We cannot let the good listeners of the Big D think we're all zombies to the burger chains, no matter how cool it is to get your picture taken with their mascot at the Park Road parade!

Note: Truth be told, I actually don't hate Red Robin. For a corporate entity of a restaurant chain, the burgers aren't that bad.

Raven's Run

2009-05-18T15:39:00.003-04:00

As a runner, every once in a while I find I need something to motivate me to tie on my sneakers and hike out in the rain or the cold to get my miles in for the day. The following video, from ESPN's Outside The Lines, is one of those motivators. It focuses on Robert "The Raven" Kraft, a man who has logged over 100,000 miles doing a daily 8 mile run along the Miami shoreline. He has never missed a day in 35 years, regardless of mother nature's interference or physical restrictions. It's a story of a man dedicated to something, which is so incredibly rare to see these days.

Check it out:

The new(ish) Silas Deane Pawn ad

2009-05-17T19:21:00.002-04:00

A while back, I wrote about Connecticut's amazing amount of pawn shops and the massive amount of advertising each business does in an attempt to separate themselves from their competition. Well, one of these shops, Silas Deane Pawn, has a (somewhat) new commercial that I saw for the first time on television the other night. According to their YouTube post, this has been around since December, but since it's new to me, I figured I'd pass it along:

Now, did these guys already have these costumes or were they pawned by Macho Man Randy Savage and Hulk Hogan (he is going through a messy divorce and could probably use the extra cash)?

Our fancy new firetruck

2009-05-17T08:06:00.004-04:00

Little boys (and girls, though I don't think many of you will care) of West Hartford, rejoice! There is a very fancy new firetruck in town for you to point at in awe from your car seats!

The Hartford Courant, doing its best West Hartford News impersonation, has an article all about the $818,000 "quint" truck (meaning it can be used as a ladder, pumper, aerial, hose, and water truck) that's now residing at Station 3 in Elmwood. You can read all about it over here. No word on if they're going to be giving free rides up and down the boom, though if they charged a buck a ride, that thing would be paid off in no time!

One question remains: When it transforms, is it an Autobot or a Decepticon?

Scenes from my new office

2009-05-16T11:12:00.003-04:00

It wasn't until I unpacked that I realized how many toys I have. Most are from when I was a kid, though I will admit to getting some as an adult. Here are a few:

Urban Oaks Organic Farm plant sale!

2009-05-16T10:45:00.002-04:00

The Professor and I were on the hunt for some tomato seedlings for our veggie patch (we're not skilled enough to bother trying to grow them from seeds on our own), but we didn't want to bother with the Home Depots of the world (Home Depot and I just don't mix very well together. I honestly think the store tries to keep me from finding anything and then sends me to the least educated of their employees to try to solve my problems). So, after much web searching, the Prof stumbled across the Urban Oaks Organic Farm's spring plant sale, which just happened to be starting yesterday.

Oooh, were we lucky!

They had a huge variety of heirloom seedlings, from plums to beefsteak to cherry, and they were only $2 a piece! Add in peppers and herbs and one could walk out with a full garden for under $40.

If anyone out there is looking for seedlings, they should give the folks down at Urban Oaks a visit.

The plant sale is on Fridays and Saturdays until supplies have been exhausted. For more information, visit their website.

New news outlets to keep you up to date on the important stories breaking in West Hartford

2009-05-13T14:05:00.004-04:00

I noticed today that mywesthartfordlife.com, a daily online newspaper dedicated to all things West Hartford, exists. If that's not enough, the recently launched localonlinenews.tv also covers pretty much anything and everything West Hartford.

Now, I understand the use of having a weekly town paper (a' la the recently improved West Hartford News), but is this town so important that it needs two separate entities covering it 24/7? I thought the Hartford Courant did a pretty decent job of keeping us informed of all the important stories. Plus, we have NBC30 right here in town, waiting with baited breath for anything to cover.

I mean, do we need to have a news story about our town's preparation for swine flu? Localonlinenews.tv seems to think so:

We're a community of about 62,000. We have the state's biggest daily newspaper literally next door in Hartford. The weekly West Hartford News and the monthly West Hartford Life should be enough, don't you think?

But maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps we DO need more news coverage. Maybe there are hundreds of wonderful nuggets of news waiting to be discovered.

Or maybe we're going to end up with two gigantic community bulletin boards.

Well, good luck MWHL and LON.tv. I hope you don't get too bored waiting for something major to happen. Oh, and if you want to know about a place that might be a drug den, drop me a line. I'll point you toward my old neighborhood.

One thing I did observe ... the H2oly Cow

2009-05-11T10:29:00.005-04:00

Last night, after completely wiring all of the electronics back together in the entertainment center, I saw a television ad for the strangest product called the H2oly Cow. It's a sprinkler system for your yard that's shaped like a cow. According to the ad, it makes watering your yard "fun." I wish I could find the commercial somewhere to embed. It's pretty bizarre.

Here's a picture:

The website for the product has a short video clip you can watch, but it doesn't include the funniest part of the television commercial, which involves children playing around the Cow like it's some sort of really cool toy. Meanwhile, they're just getting pelted by water. But what got me is the fact that the end of the hose is flailing around throughout all of this, sending the metal end at high speeds near their heads and arms and legs. I just kept thinking, "One of those kids is going to end up in the hospital!" What an awkward conversation that would be in the ER.

About that final night . . .

2009-05-11T10:06:00.005-04:00

I am sore and tired, but I have moved. The Professor and I slept in total silence last night. We almost didn't know what to do with ourselves.

Because I've been packing and moving, I can't say I've really been out and about "observing" many things lately, but I did want to share with you a little tale about the final night I spent in my old apartment.

It began that afternoon. The Prof and I had brought one final carload of stuff to our new digs, and as we pulled into our old driveway, we saw the Emperor, our upstairs neighbor, carrying stacks of cardboard boxes out to the garbage.

"Spring cleaning?" I asked him.

"I have to clean. My girlfriend is going to move in with me."

Immediately, I rejoiced in the fact that I would no longer be living below him. See, the Emperor's girlfriend is a heel lover. She wears them every single time she visits, including when they go to bed.

And, although I wanted to reply, "Thank GOD I'm moving," I held my tongue and went inside.

Jump to 10:15PM. The Prof and I decided to head to bed to get some extra rest for the big move day. As we were slipping under the covers, we heard the sound of a truck. I looked out the window. It was the Emperor with a U-Haul.

Then the sound of heels from overhead rained down.

When he told me that his girlfriend was moving in while we stood over at the garbage cans, the Emperor forgot to end the phrase "in about four hours."

So, from about 10:30 to 12:30, we heard Heely and Emperor march UP the stairs with boxes, then DOWN the stairs to get more. Oh, and it was raining, so they were constantly stomping on the carpets in the stairwell to, apparently, dry their feet.

After the first hour of tossing and turning, the Professor got up and went into the living room to watch television. I followed. She ended up pulling the cushions off of a chair and curling up with them on the floor. I laid down on the couch.

We ended up sleeping there all night. At one point, probably about 1AM, we heard the Emperor starting the U-Haul up and driving away. Of course, the Heelinator stayed behind and continued to, I can only gather, move furniture above us.

And that's going to be my final memory of that place. Crashing on the couch with the television singing an infomercial lullaby. Sleeping about 4 hours before getting up to get my own U-Haul.

I pity the poor fool who is the next to live there.

The Max Burger Fatty Melt experience

2009-05-07T13:44:00.002-04:00

For those not in the know (or from out of town), Max Burger, in addition to being the latest offering from the slightly ubiquitous Max Restaurant Group, is West Hartford's newest burger joint. With its opening, we West Hartford-ites can now choose from three "burger dedicated" restaurants located within a mile and a half of each other (with Plan B and The Counter completing the trifecta). Oh, and then there's Red Robin, but I wouldn't really count that place.

Last night, the Professor and I stopped into Max Burger for dinner. I was instantly struck by the decor, which, to me, rang in as "calculated casual." That's not to say the place wasn't nice. It just felt like someone in the planning room said, "How can we, you know, slum it down a bit while staying classy?" Then someone else said, "How about old-timey milk glasses for water? And we'll have the waiters wear jeans!"

But we weren't there for the decor. We were in for the food. And, let me tell you, the burger I ordered may have been one of the most decadent sandwiches I have ever eaten.

It was called the Fatty Melt. An 8 oz. burger with cheese served between two grilled cheese sandwiches, it was a messy mouthful. Oh, and did I mention that one grilled cheese had tomato and the other was filled with bacon?

Yowza! What a burger!

The Professor got the Inside Out burger, which had a cheese center. I have to say, hers was cooked more to order than mine, but they were both delicious and were served with pickles, house fries and a garlic aioli for dipping.

We finished with the house whoopie pies. While quite tasty, the cake was a bit dry.

As we drove home, our stomachs full, we debated if Max Burger was "better" than its competition. Our conclusions were mixed. In my opinion, Max Burger will never have the neighborhood feel of Plan B. Perhaps this is because of its high class upbringing, as a fair amount of the customers looked as if they would normally be at Max's Oyster Bar or Max Downtown, but "wanted to see how the peasants ate." (A good example of this was the guy sitting at the table next to me, who The Professor noticed made an exaggerated eye lift when I announced, not terribly loudly, that I had eaten everything on my plate. Of course, he then proceeded to cut his burger in half - cardinal sin - and eat portions of it with a fork).

But as I said earlier, who cares about the decor, right? The Fatty Melt is a foodie's dream come true and the type of burger that can make a place famous.

So, is Max the best burger place? I'm going to have to say that I can't say. The sandwiches are wonderful, but are in almost every way similar to Plan B (sans the extra flair). And the menu certainly doesn't give you the fun options that The Counter offers, but that's to be expected. However, there's something oddly unique at Max Burger that makes its existence make sense. I guess you'll have to try it for yourself.

Max Burger can be found on LaSalle Road in West Hartford.

A brief break from packing/moving

2009-05-06T13:14:00.003-04:00

The constant cycle of "pack boxes, fill car, bring boxes to new apartment, come home, go to work, eat, sleep, start again" is beginning to take a toll. I think the Professor and I will have to get out of the circuit tonight and take a break.

In the meantime, I offer you this very strange video of elderly banging heads to death metal. Enjoy!

Hardcore Grandparents - watch more funny videos

What does this say about the driver?

2009-05-03T21:10:00.001-04:00

I was driving behind the car in the above photo the other day. My good fortune found my digital camera handy.

Now, maybe I'm just cynical, but something struck me as both funny and sad seeing a person use a "Proud to be an American" bumper sticker to cover a massive crack in their bumper.

It felt like an incredibly loaded image that could mean so many different things.

A trip to Ted's Restaurant

2009-05-03T15:18:00.006-04:00

I was jonesin' for a burger yesterday, but the Professor was working at her office, so a trip to Max Burger, which we've been discussing, had to be tabled. Instead, I opted for some old fashioned Connecticut cooking.

I decided to find Ted's Restaurant in Meriden. Their steamed hamburgers are things of legend among foodies and the restaurant is often featured on those ubiquitous diner programs that seem to be on television at any hour. So I got a map from the old interwebs and headed off.

The Drive

The drive to Ted's was a bit disappointing. Google Maps sent me along the Berlin Turnpike, which meant I got to drive past lots of seedy hotels that were next to even seedier strip clubs and "adult" stores. I hoped that this wasn't some sort of sign of things to come (My suggestion if you're planning a jaunt to Ted's: Find a route with better scenery.).

Thankfully, as I turned onto Broad Street, the world turned back to normal. Ted's was easy to find. It was the place with a million cars in front.

The Restaurant

Needless to say, the place was busy.

And incredibly small, with only a few booths and a counter for eaters to consume mass quantities of beef and cheese.

I waited in line. When it was my turn, I ordered probably the most obvious meal: steamed cheeseburger, home fries, and a Pepsi (Ted's doesn't do french fries. It's home fries or no fries.).

I lucked out and was able to find a seat at the counter. This is easily the best place to sit at Ted's. Because the lure of the place is the steamed cooking style of the burgers, watching the cook constantly fill tiny trays with beef and cheese is certainly a must if possible. The counter also lets diners get a good look at the heaping piles of home fries that are constantly on the restautant's grill, browning to a lovely crisp that borders on burnt (but burnt in a good way).

The Burger

My burger came out after about ten minutes. It was made to order with lettuce, tomato, and onion. The cheese was so bubbly that it oozed out of the pinwheel center of the bun. I can honestly say that it looked heavenly.

It was incredibly juicy. And kind of funky. For whatever reason, it felt like the type of burger Wimpy from Popeye would crave (and con someone into buying for him). But the fact that it was steamed left me wanting a bit. I missed the taste of the grill. Maybe it was a bit psychological of me. Now, that's not to say I didn't like the burger. I practically inhaled the thing. It was tasty, just a different kind of tasty. I really can't describe it. It's an experience I think you have to try to understand.

My belly full, my wallet lighter only $7 (before tip), I stumbled back out to my car. I was satisfied in my trip. I headed back up past the creepy hotels and strip clubs, and made my way home.

Ted's Restaurant can be found at 1046 Broad Street in Meriden.

Mini news on media move day

2009-05-01T15:26:00.005-04:00

Got the keys to the new apartment last night. Very excited. We move in a little over a week, but today was devoted to hauling most of our media from Crummyville to the new digs. With the amount of books and DVDs and CDs that we own, such a move is very tiring.

As you can imagine, I'm not in much of a manifesto mood.

But I wanted to remind everyone that tomorrow is Free Comic Book Day. What is Free Comic Book Day? Well, it's pretty self explanatory. Comic shops all over the country will be offering up special free comic books to whomever walks through their doors. I'm not a gigantic comic book reader (it's amazing to see the stacks that guys are buying every time I go in and spend my five dollars), but this event is always fun to attend. For more info, visit freecomicbookday.com.

Also, my friend Jay emailed me the link to some amazingly cool commercials that were created for Scrabble (one of my favorite games). Check 'em out:

He came across them over here at BeaucoupKevin.

Leaf vacuum no more!

2009-04-29T11:53:00.003-04:00

The town of West Hartford, faced with a budget crunch, has finally put its ludicrous leaf vacuuming service out to pasture. According to reports, $383,000 will be saved by forcing residents to be like everyone else and rake their debris into recyclable bags.

I realize the vacuum service is one that helps the elderly in town who may have a hard time raking, but it's really a bloated expense. Neighborhood kids, this is your time to start knocking on doors, rake in hand. Just don't squeeze too much money from them.

To read about more cuts to the budget, click here.

Hate comes to Hartford

2009-04-28T21:57:00.003-04:00

It was incredibly hot here in the old Nutmeg today, but the sweltering, thick air didn't stop three crazies from Kansas from stumping on Capitol Avenue in Hartford, preaching in response to the state Supreme Court's ruling legalizing same-sex marriage.

Why couldn't we have saved some of our Sea Monkey water for these idiots? Honestly, if you do or do not agree with same-sex marriage, these folks give a new definition to whack job.

From the Hartford Courant:

"We travel out in teams like this at least weekly,'' said Ben Phelps, 33, grandson of Rev. Fred Phelps, pastor of the Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, Kan. He was joined on Capitol Avenue in Hartford by Fred Phelps' daughter, Shirley Phelps-Roper, 51, and her son, Zach, 18.

Church members have criss-crossed the nation picketing military funerals, students performing the musical "Rent" and a high school named for the poet Walt Whitman. The congregation has been branded a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center.

The Hartford protest, which lasted less than 30 minutes, drew about a half-dozen counter-protesters and at least 10 law enforcement officials from several different departments.

A big shout out to the counter-protesters. What a crummy day to be hanging out in the sun.

I don't know. I really don't have time for such nuts. Next thing you know they'll be blaming swine flu deaths in Mexico and the U.S. on "acceptance of homosexuality."

You can read the full article over here.

Ah, water!

2009-04-27T22:11:00.001-04:00

The boil warning has been lifted. We can all drink our water again. Read more over at the Hartford Courant.

Monday thoughts while trying to avoid swine flu and Sea Monkeys

2009-04-27T14:02:00.006-04:00

So, I was boiling my water today to fill my Brita to be able to drink tomorrow while at the same time hoping that the slight cough that I have isn't somehow a strain of "not deadly" swine flu when I began wondering, "What is the most cliched analogy in the English language?"

I took my water off after its one minute boil (per CT MDC rules) and began to wrack my brain. I then stopped, concerned that too much concentration could compromise my internal organs, possibly keeping valuable blood from flowing to regions other than my brain, thus allowing the swine flu an opened door to the destruction of my body. But, before completely shutting down, the first tacky analogy to come to mind was when someone says that something "cuts like a knife" (typically the assailant in this is "love"). That one always bothered me. Stupid Who song.

So, while waiting three hours for my water to cool and after placing a precautionary dust mask over my nose and mouth because of the swine flu, I hopped on the old internet machine and let it do my thinking for me. I found a pretty entertaining website full of bad analogies. It was like finding a shiny toy car under the tree on Christmas morning. See, that was a bad analogy.

Anyway, if you're interested in reading some bad analogies, click here. Oh, and I'm not going too overboard in my fear of swine flu and Sea Monkeys, am I?

Things sought

2009-04-26T14:24:00.003-04:00

When I initially set up this blog, I harnessed it with code from Statcounter so that I could keep track of how many visitors stopped by and read my posts. It's pretty great to be able to see page loads, what's popular, that sort of thing.

And one of the coolest things this application allows for me to do is see how someone came across my blog. Sometimes this is from other blogs. Sometimes people are emailed things I've posted (why, I have no idea). But, more often than not, people stumble across my writing from regular old search engine results. Most of the time these are fairly logical. Searches for "Max Burger," for example, brought people to my little post about the new eatery that went up last week. "Slap Chop" searches brought tons of traffic to my rants about Vince Offer and his products-of-the-week (that is, when he isn't busy biting prostitutes in hotel rooms).

But sometimes people arrive at the blog looking for some strange things. I'm sure visitors are always disappointed when their queries for "castle interiors" bring them to my post on my visit to Gillette Castle. And I'm very sure that whoever did a search for "pussy for sale, hartford" (sorry to be crass, but that's what they searched for) wasn't interested in watching the clip from Tim and Eric Awesome Show! that I posted concerning their bit about painting cats (with the juvenile title "Pussy Doodles").

And then there are the celebrities that search for themselves (or have Google robots do the searching for them). When I first posted about Criss Angel's former life as hair metal band frontman, I received quite a few hits from the Las Vegas area, as well as Playboy Enterprises (at the time, Mr. Angel was romantically involved with one of the "Girls Next Door"). When I compared 30 Rock actor (who absolutely is amazing in American Splendor) Judah Friedlander to a perp from the TV show Street Patrol, I got a hit directly from Friedlander's personal website. But the best hit came back in September of last year, when someone from Obama For America visited the blog after doing a Google search for "Cindy McCain Cryptkeeper."

Biting my tongue

2009-04-24T16:27:00.002-04:00

Today the dog and pony show began. Our landlord brought out the first victims to look at our apartment. And, although she thought she told me about this, I was unaware of the festivities until receiving a "reminder" email 40 minutes before the first knock on our door. The Professor had a meeting and got to skip out on the fun, but I didn't have to go into work today, so I was around for the awkward meet and greets, the handshakes, and then the quick slip into the office, hoping no one would ask the fateful question:

Why are you moving?

I had come up with a few answers, none very truthful. "We want to be closer to where my wife works," was a good one, I thought, since it's technically true (we're currently only a few miles from where she teaches, however). "We're looking for a change," was another possible answer. Mysterious yet completely diplomatic. Then, if all else failed, I planned on saying "We certainly aren't moving because our neighbors seem to be drug dealers and we live near a busy corner and our car was broken into or anything."

Thankfully, in round one, I escaped any questioning. This was mainly due to the fact that, once I shook hands, I stared angrily into my computer monitor, where I brought up a live NYSE ticker. Of course, I know nothing about the stock market.

On a completely unrelated note, while sitting at my computer, letting strangers trounce around my apartment, I began thinking about Dr. Fad. I found the theme music for his show online, as well as a clip from an episode. I loved wacky wall walkers. Enjoy!

Quick dispatch

2009-04-23T12:49:00.002-04:00

These came in from a few friends over the past couple days:

• Dunkin' Donuts has tapped Red Sox second baseman Dustin Pedroia as their new pitchman. Apparently they saw something in his Sullivan Tire exploits. You can read all about it (and see the first ad) over here at boston.com.

• I like 30 Rock. It's a pretty funny show (though this season has been pretty hit-or-miss). But I don't like 30 Rock half as much as this guy:

Maybe it's just me, but I see this guy and I imagine he's kept in some kind of basement dwelling similar to Sloth in The Goonies.

Don't drink the water

2009-04-22T22:04:00.003-04:00

Unless you want to become a living Sea Monkey display, you better read below. And we call ourselves a civilized society. From a press release over at Fox 61:

The Metropolitan District Commission says microscopic organisms called "copepods" and "rotifers" have been found in the drinking water distribution system for Reservoir No. 6 in Bloomfield.

While the MDC says these organisms are not harmful to humans, they are telling customers to boil their water for at least a minute before drinking.

This warning affects residents of Bloomfield, Glastonbury, Portland, Windsor, Hartford, East Hartford, West Hartford, South Windsor and parts of East Granby and Windsor Locks. Customers in Rocky Hill, Newington, Farmington/Unionville, and Wethersfield are not affected.

Well, aren't we lucky here in West Hartford? Sorry Rocky Hill, but these corepods are all ours. Jealous? And why bother to tell us they aren't harmful if they're so set on us boiling the buggers to death?

Is this really the best we have to offer?

2009-04-21T09:03:00.002-04:00

Hartford Magazine has released the results of their "Best of Hartford 2009" readers' poll, and judging from some of the trophy holders, it seems a few ballot boxes have been stuffed.

Is On The Border Mexican Grill really the best Mexican food in Hartford County? Does Dunkin' Donuts really serve the best coffee, or the most convenient? And how can the Cheesecake Factory come in second in the category of "Best Dessert"?

I will cop to occasionally partaking in the food at these above-mentioned questionable winners. The truth is, though, I would never pick any of them as the best in their field. As I've learned in my short time here, the Hartford area has some very fine and authentic Mexican restaurants, and some great coffee houses. And, as rich and sweet as the cheesecake at the Cheesecake Factory is, it's a boxed cheesecake that probably gets made at the actual Cheesecake Factory somewhere in the middle of nowhere (of course, I could be wrong. It could be made in-house from specific ingredients that are shipped from the Factory in the middle of nowhere).

Now, I'll admit that quite a few of the award winners are legit. Max Downtown for best overall restaurant, Bricco for best Italian, and Plan B for best burger all come to mind. But magazine awards like these are a great opportunity to shine a light on good, honest, local establishments. It's a real shame when they get hijacked by corporate entities.

The town is out and about, as are their dogs

2009-04-19T12:32:00.006-04:00

This morning brought the first opportunity to run since my incident with the dog (more specifically, the dog's teeth). For those interested, my hip has a really ugly bruise. The scratch is healing, though with it being on my hip, it is pretty painful (I must say that I'm really glad I was wearing the amount of layers that I was. Otherwise, I probably would have ended up in the ER for a shot and/or stitches. Thank you, overshirt, thermal undershirt, shorts, shorts pocket material, and underwear!).

But I'm not one to sit around. I needed to get back on the horse. So I suited up and hit the street.

There's an amazing amount of people out and about today. The MS Walk that's happening around town has drawn hundreds of people to the streets. And with those hundreds of people are scores of dogs. My worst nightmare! I've never passed so many dogs on a run in all my life. It was definitely a baptism-by-fire moment. If there was any trepidation I had in running past seemingly friendly dogs, I was quickly forced to man-up.

Thankfully, my days since a time loss incident continues to stand at 2. The weather sure is beautiful out there. We've really been lucky the past couple of days.

Bit by a dog

2009-04-17T11:30:00.003-04:00

I was bit by a dog while out for a run this morning.

The woman walking the dog was both mortified and incredibly defensive in the immediate aftermath.

"Are you okay?" she asked in her first breath as I scanned my body for damage. "You know, this isn't my dog," came in the second.

I checked my hip, the location of the bite. It looked to just be a scratch. My clothes weren't torn. The dog's teeth hadn't actually made it through to the skin. I waved it off.

"This isn't my dog," she reiterated as I said I was fine.

I continued to run. Made it about 2 more miles. Then the pain started. I looked under the rib of my waistband to see that the scratch really wasn't a scratch but more of a long bruise pockmarked with tiny tears. I was bleeding.

I turned around and ran home. The Professor had a priceless look on her face when I told her what happened.

Honestly, I'm surprised it has taken this long to be bitten by a dog. I've been running for about 5 years. I've passed thousands of dogs.

I mean, I've kicked a squirrel when out running (it ran square in front of my foot, I swear.). What are the odds of that compared to getting bit by a dog?

Well, the Prof just got back with a gigantic band-aid to fix me up. Signing off, beware of a large yellow dog roaming the streets of West Hartford. The woman walking it, from what I gathered, is NOT the owner.

What a strange week this has been.

Tax day gaffe on NPR - does it still make a sound?

2009-04-15T14:59:00.005-04:00

I was just listening to Talk of the Nation on NPR while taking a break from packing boxes (a fun way to spend a day off) and there was a pretty funny, if juvenile, gaffe made by a caller. The segment was on anti-tax (and anti-stimulus) tea party protests that are happening across the country both yesterday and today. Needless to say, it wasn't the most exciting of topics. That is, until a certain gentleman from Cedar Rapids, Iowa called into the program. Instead of talking to host Neal Conan about a tea party, the caller kept saying that he had just returned from the "Cedar Rapids tea bagging" protest.

Now, the man may have been telling the truth, but something tells me that he's gotten his terms mixed. Either way, it made me laugh like a thirteen-year-old.

Poor caller. He had his fifteen seconds and will most likely be made fun of it by friends for some time to come.

Another reason to move . . .

2009-04-14T21:49:00.004-04:00

So, the Professor called me at work this evening. Someone had broken into her car while it was parked in our garage (yes, that's right, IN the garage). They made off with an old Kenwood stereo that was on the verge of total failure and a half-empty roadside emergency kit (thankfully, they left the jumper cables). Truth be told, it could have been worse.

Our neighbor saw the whole thing go down and did his best to catch the thief, but came up empty. The Prof filed a report with the police, though I can guarantee we'll never hear anything about the stereo.

Oh, May cannot come fast enough.

Burgers and the use of the word "Max"

2009-04-13T15:21:00.002-04:00

We must really like red meat here in West Hartford. What else can explain Max Burger, the town's newest specialty burger joint? Plan B and the Counter, I suppose, just weren't enough to satiate our need to place cow between bread. The Max Group, seeing our desire for beef, had to throw their talents into the ring, as well.

Anyone try Max Burger yet? Any good?

Speaking of burger places, one thing that I came across that made me laugh and scratch my head was this article in the Hartford Advocate, which deals with a minor war that has erupted between Rich Rosenthal, a.k.a. Mr. Max, and Al Gamble, proprietor of Plan B. It seems the two have more in common than serving us mass quantities of ground beef. See, Gamble was planning on opening a restaurant called Max Amigo's. And Rosenthal wasn't very pleased:

"Let me ask you, do you think it's trademark infringement?" Rosenthal asked.

Rosenthal certainly thought it was, so he called Gamble. The conversation did not go particularly well, since Gamble is of the opinion that no one can own a word like "Max," especially in the restaurant business.

"Google it," Gamble told the Advocate. "People use it freely around the country. Even here there's Max Bibo's," said Gamble, referring to another restaurant with "Max" in its name that is unrelated to Rosenthal's group of eateries.

The gentlemen are working on a resolution.

However, owners of Max Mart in New Britain, Max-Tek in Newington, Car Max in Hartford, Max Pizza in Bristol, and all of the other "Max"-named businesses may want to keep their lawyers on speed dial. Rosenthal seems pretty sure he owns the right to your names. Who knows, the Max Group could be looking to open an office supply store.

Movie stuff

2009-04-11T19:24:00.002-04:00

Synecdoche, New York, just out on DVD (more or less), may be the most important film dealing with the concept of human mortality the U.S. has produced in a good decade. It's incredibly dense and extremely odd, but absolutely rewarding for viewers that give it a serious chance. Philip Seymour Hoffman really carries the film on his shoulders. And Charlie Kaufman, here directing from his own script, fills every image with so many clues that the film demands multiple viewings. To say more about it would only sound silly. I can't describe it. I can't even express the emotion that this project provides.

I guess all I can say is that can't recommend it enough.

* * *

Over at The Atlantic, James Parker has a pretty interesting article about the resurgence of the slasher film genre. I really enjoyed the final section, which compares modern movie killers with Grendel and Sir Halewyn the Miserable. You can find the article over here.

* * *

Lastly, did anyone else read about Woody Harrelson mistaking a TMZ photographer for a zombie? Seriously. He claims that he was still in character when he punched the man at an airport. He's in the middle of shooting a zombie movie.

You can read about it here.

West Hartford News - back on the wagon

2009-04-11T16:14:00.002-04:00

This week's West Hartford News was placed directly in the recycling bin when it arrived on Thursday. I wasn't going to look at it. I wasn't going to get frustrated with it. I had read enough of the nonsense. My complaints had grown tired.

Then the masochist in me took over. I pulled the from the bin and gave it a read.

Spolier Alert: There's a new reporter! And they know how to write!

I don't know what happened to our old reporter, but she isn't to be found anywhere in this week's edition. Perhaps her interesting interpretations of the English language were just too much for the folks at the Journal Register. Perhaps she has moved onward and upward. Either way, our little town paper just improved greatly.

A.C. Petersen Farms Ice Cream

2009-04-10T17:07:00.003-04:00

I've written about the dining experience at A.C. Petersen's before. Nothing great. Mostly greasy spoon fare with very little to offer the palate.

But I've just discovered their ice cream.

I love the ice cream.

Maple walnut.

Yum.

It isn't cheap, being made right in town and hand packed into its plain white carton, but it is worth every penny. Rich, creamy, with gigantic chunks of walnut, I've found a new food obsession.

You've found a way to get me to come back through your doors, A.C. You are a tricky one.

I'm a proud papa

2009-04-09T16:12:00.004-04:00

No, the Professor did not have a baby or anything . . .

I'm talking about Circuit, a movie I co-wrote with my old college roommate. There was a special screening of the film last night at our old alma mater, Massachusetts College of Art. It was the first time I saw the project with its sound fully mixed.

I couldn't have been happier.

The audience, a packed house, was wonderful. They laughed when they were supposed to laugh. They asked the right questions at the Q&A afterwards. Several even got the puzzle that we laced throughout the movie. I was floored. I thought it was harder to solve!

Oh, I'm pretty excited. Now we need to start getting screenings at festivals. Anyone looking for a feature-length drama/comedy/sci-fi film dealing with storytelling techniques and the five human senses?

The day after opening day

2009-04-07T10:41:00.003-04:00

Ah, baseball is back. And for regular fans, nothing could be better than hearing the crack of the bat, the roar of the crowd.

But things aren't so pleasant when you're a manager of a fantasy baseball team.

We're one day into the season and fantasy baseball managers are beginning to freak out. Quite a few "sure things" were pretty bad yesterday. CC Sabathia surrendered 6 earned runs in 4 1/3 innings. Mark Teixeira went o for 4 at the plate. Cliff Lee (last year's AL Cy Young winner) left his outing for the Indians with a crushing 12.60 ERA. Arizona's Brandon Webb got beat down by the Colorado Rockies.

Quick, where's the panic button!

I've been there.

I used to run a squad called the "7 Colby 9" (I used to live at 7 Colby and, well, you've got 9 players on a team). I was roped into a fantasy league by an old co-worker.

It was hell.

Fantasy baseball is a 24/7 operation. You've got afternoon games, evening games, late night west coast games. Guys are always getting injured. Pitchers always need to be activated and deactivated. Trades are always going down left and right.

And the "sure things" always seem to backfire.

I'll be honest, I never had a good team. Sure, I had some great players, but I never seemed to last through the entire season. I was a cellar dweller and often fought for next-to-last place.

But it was addictive. Baseball became a second job. I'd be holed up with my computer late into the night, watching live updates on Yahoo Gamechannel, calculating how many hits I'd need to raise my batting average enough to take that week's point.

My relationship with the Professor, needless to say, suffered.

After two seasons, I got out. I couldn't put myself through the six months of torture again.

But it's like being a recovering addict. Every year, when spring training starts, I get the itch. I follow former players from the 7 Colby 9 during the season and keep track of their stats.

My name is Ben, and I am a former fantasy baseball manager.

Wake up call

2009-04-06T10:33:00.003-04:00

Woke up this morning. Rolled out of bed. The Professor and I complained/laughed about our neighbors (There was a teenage girl screaming about her boyfriend last night. Honestly, every time I think I know who lives in that house I hear another screaming voice.). Then I turned on my computer and checked Facebook.

Status update from the Professor's uncle who lives in Italy: Woke up to an earthquake last night but we're okay.

Status update from his partner: awakened by the earthquake but all is well.

Woah.

The 6.3 magnitude quake struck about 30 miles (if I remember correctly) from their village, centering on the town L'Aquila. Just go look at images at CNN or the BBC. The destruction is pretty heartbreaking. So much history has been turned to rubble.

But, thankfully, Steve and Larry are okay.

It made me feel sheepish for complaining about my neighbors waking me in the middle of the night. Having my 800-year-old village shaken by the Earth would be a far scarier way to have a horrible night's sleep.

A letter to the neighbors

2009-04-05T15:59:00.004-04:00

I'm toying with the idea of leaving the following letter on our next door neighbor's porch when we move:

Dear former neighbor,

Congratulations, you've won! You probably didn't even realize you were involved in any sort of contest. I'll give you a minute to let the moment set in. I realize this honor must come as a bit of a shock.

Okay . . . ready to continue?

The truth is, former neighbor, you have driven me and my wife from the neighborhood. And it only took eight months!

How did you achieve such a feat so quickly? Well, it's a combination of quite a few things. First, the rapping at 4 a.m. was a bit of a frustration. Then there's the constant entourage of cars that go up and down your driveway at all hours (you'd think you were dealing drugs over there or something. Hey, wait a minute . . .). And, to be frank, it's a little scary to hear your custody battles that occur three to four nights a week.

I know, you like your repetitive music. Hey, I can't blame someone for loving horribly repetitive music. Did I mention how repetitive your music is?

And where else would one naturally make a cell phone call at two a.m. than their driveway, am I right?

I guess what I'm driving at, former neighbor, is that your habits are annoying. I really thought that time I called the police on you that things would settle down.

I was wrong. You sure are set in your ways.

So, you've won. We're gone. Headed for a much quieter stretch of land. I'd tell you where it is, but I fear you'd somehow find a way to move in nearby.

As I bid you farewell, let me close with this:

Okay, I've got nothing. I really can't stand you.

Sincerely,

Your former neighbor.

The impossible contest

2009-04-04T14:52:00.005-04:00

From the Connecticut Best Business Guide, one of about a hundred coupon books we receive in the mail each month:

A simple word puzzle, right? Note the date in the top right corner:

Okay, all seems legit. But what's with the fine print at the bottom of the rules?

"All entries must be received no later than Dec. 15, 2008"? Hmmm. Good thing I have that time machine for just this purpose.

Friday

2009-04-03T17:12:00.002-04:00

Had a bit of an internet scare a little while ago while the thunder rumbled here in West Hartford. Everything stopped working. Not a good sign. Turns out the wireless hub needed a time out. Sometimes we all need a little time out to cool off and get our act straight, I suppose. I guess technology isn't any different.

It's funny how much of a crippling scare the idea of no internet can be. I can't imagine a day without email. So much of my lifelines are electronic. And since moving, IMs and Facebook conversations are some of the only ways I communicate with several friends. I talk to the writing group I belong to through my computer. I submit stories and articles without ever speaking to editors face to face (I still have not formally met the editor I occasionally write for in Boston).

And a simple rumble of thunder can snap that all like a twig.

But all is safe. For now.

Book sale

2009-04-02T13:51:00.003-04:00

Are your eyes tired from reading everything on a computer screen? Is your Kindle on the fritz? Then head on over to the Friends of the West Hartford Library Book Sale. It's tonight from 6 - 8 p.m. at 11 Wampanoag Drive. According to ads, there will be books, DVDs, CDs and cassettes (good luck getting rid of those) up for grabs. And it's early, so you'll have plenty of time to get home for important television programs or, if you have a social life, drinks at your favorite watering hole.

On April Fools

2009-04-01T19:53:00.004-04:00

I saw a news article today about President Obama giving an iPod to Queen Elizabeth. I laughed. Then I realized it was a real story and not an April Fools' Day joke.

A similar thing happened this morning when I read an article concerning John McCain's sudden interest in seeking a pardon for former heavyweight champ Jack Johnson. I didn't laugh at the cause. The fact that Johnson had been racially attacked back in 1913 because of an interracial relationship is just another horrible tale our country has in its history. Rather, I assumed this was a joke because, well, John McCain doesn't seem much like the supporter of such a cause. Remember, this is the same man who opposed MLK day in 1983 (he later reversed his stance - wasn't going over well with voters, I suspect).

And there was also this quote from McCain: "I think the last person I have to convince probably is President Obama."

Don't worry, Mr. McCain, I doubt he'll need much convincing.

I guess my point here is that, on days when we're looking for the punch line, it's sometimes difficult to determine what's legitimate news and what isn't. And this leads one to question what makes some news legitimate to begin with? Do we need a report on Obama/Queen gifts? Do stories like this, which were once known as "fluff," now qualify as ACTUAL news?

I can't wait for tomorrow. At least when I laugh at some of the ridiculous items I see in print, I'll know I'm just being cynical.

Gov. Rell to assign task force investigating vanishing sidewalks

2009-04-01T08:58:00.003-04:00

I know I said my last post on West Hartford's vanishing sidewalk phenomenon was to be my last (for a while), but this stunning development has caused me to write one more piece.

I received an email from none other than M. Jodi Rell, Governor of our fair state. It appears she's pretty concerned about our sidewalk situation:

Dear Ben, Let me begin by saying I'm a big fan of what you do. I check your blog at least twice a day. And, in reading your postings, I have grown quite concerned about West Hartford's "vanishing sidewalk" phenomenon. That's why I'm launching a task force to investigate these bizarre oddities. I plan on finding, come hell or high water, why these sidewalks abruptly stop and what we can do to prevent future sidewalks from meeting the same fate.

She went on to praise me a bit more and to badmouth a few of the commenters that have left mean feedback over the past few months.

I must say, I was pretty shocked by the email. Who knew the Governor cared to spend taxpayer dollars on something so important to so few?

She plans on making sure the program has it's first report on her desk by April 1, 2010.

ShamPow! Slap! Chop!

2009-03-30T12:15:00.002-04:00

Regular readers may have noticed I've written a couple posts (here and here) about Vince Offer, the pitchman behind the ShamWOW cloths and the ubiquitous Slap Chop kitchen device. For whatever reason, the guy both annoys me and fascinates me at the same time.

Well, it seems Offer (his real last name is actually Shlomi), has gotten himself into a bit of trouble. Here's a clip from an article that ran on the Smoking Gun a few days ago:

Shlomi, 44, was arrested last month on a felony battery charge following a violent confrontation with a prostitute in his South Beach hotel room. According to an arrest affidavit, Shlomi met Sasha Harris, 26, at a Miami Beach nightclub on February 7 and subsequently retired with her to his $750 room at the lavish Setai hotel . . . Shlomi said that when he kissed Harris, she suddenly "bit his tongue and would not let go." Shlomi then punched Harris several times until she released his tongue.

Wow, what a great guy! Now I really want to buy his crummy products! And he's 44? Dude looks good for 44.

You can read the full article over here at the Smoking Gun's website.

Maybe there won't be another empty store in Bishop's Corner

2009-03-29T19:05:00.002-04:00

A couple of weeks ago, news dropped that the Whole Foods in Bishop's Corner, due to a settlement with the FTC, would have to be sold. This news lead some, including myself, to wonder if this would mean another empty storefront in the already spotty shopping district, where empty buildings are becoming a very common sight.

But while shopping at Whole Foods today, I came across the market's official press release on the subject. And, while the company does need to try to sell the space to another vendor, there's a very good chance Whole Foods will be around in the space for many years to come. From the release:

If no buyer comes forward within the next six months, then Whole Foods Market will continue to serve you at this store and will offer the great products and customer service you have come to expect from us.

I suppose time will tell in this situation.

Vanishing sidewalk goldrush

2009-03-29T10:46:00.006-04:00

This will be the last vanishing sidewalk post for a bit. I think I may be going a bit overboard lately. I need to curtail the curb hunt. Tuck away the footway.

Until then, let me leave you with two more discoveries. The first is probably the only vanishing sidewalk that makes a whole lot of sense. It's located on Park Road, right before the on-ramp for 84:

At least here I can see the reasoning behind the decision to end the path where they did.

"What're you doing over there? You're gonna make people walk straight onto the highway!"

"Dang, you're right. What should I do?"

"Just stop your work where you are. They'll know not to go any further."

"Should I pull up what I started? I think -"

"I ain't paying you to think!"

Anyway . . .

The second location just may be the motherload of vanishing sidewalks: Fairfield Road. The good folks over at Connecticut Museum Quest pointed me in the right direction here. Wow, there are a lot of vanishing sidewalks in this area!

Here's the corner of Fairfield with Plainfield Road (what boring names for streets. "Hey, what're you going to name your road? Mine's Fairfield." "Oh, I don't know . . . Plain . . . field?" "Man, you're a genius."):

(I should note that all of the images in this post are from Google Street View. It's too rainy here in West Hartford today to go out with the camera.)

A little further up Fairfield, at the intersection with Longlane Road (another brilliantly named stretch of pavement), you get a vanishing sidewalk on three corners. Here's just one:

When Fairfield ends at Lostbrook Road (finally, a cool road name), there's another vanishing sidewalk:

That's a lot of vanishing sidewalks for one road.

Good intentions

2009-03-28T17:03:00.005-04:00

I swear I intended to post earlier today. I really did. Cross my heart.

It was going to be a wonderful little piece about my reconnaissance visit to our new plot at the community garden. How the Professor and I discovered what the previous renter planted. How we walked around Westmoor Park and listened to the tree frogs as the sun slowly hovered on the horizon.

It was going to be a good little post.

But I instead went up to Massachusetts to help my father-in-law de-nail (technical term?) lumber. And my hands are now raw and pained as I type. The back of my neck is crisp. My eyelids are heavy. My eyeballs sting.

I swear some of the boards I was pulling nails from had been used for crucifixions centuries ago. The nails looked older than time.

So, in lieu of a nice post about discovering our new garden space, I will leave you with this picture. It isn't much to look at, but I hope it becomes something nice over the next few months:

Things thought at 3:45 AM

2009-03-26T15:05:00.005-04:00

Rough time sleeping last night. The bacon cheeseburger from Plan B did me in. I found myself awake at 3:45 a.m., my mind wandering.

Here's what I remember thinking about:

1. New issue of the West Hartford News to look forward to tomorrow. Will the writing will still be horrible?

The answer, as I just learned when I got my mail, is yes. Well, maybe not as bad as two weeks ago, but still pretty poor.

2. I really don't want to break up with my landlord.

The Professor and I made the decision to move, even though we hate the thought of packing everything up to move a mile away.

On my way home from work today I decided to make the phone call and tell our landlord the bad news. I hate making that phone call. But I followed through with it. I even went into a "it's not you, it's me" run. Not fun.

But, like a band-aid, I tore it quickly.

She was completely blind-sided by the news.

3. How can one tell if they are in an Italian horror film?

Yes, this was something I was thinking about at 4 o'clock this morning. And I came up with a five-point yes/no checklist. Essentially, if you can answer 'yes' to at least three of these statements, you may actually be part of an Italian horror film:

1. I live or work in a building that has enough space for a hidden room, where someone may be conducting experiments or planning horrible actions against me or my roommates/co-workers.

2. I speak Italian and am an attractive female (or the boyfriend of an attractive female).

3. My life seems to have a heavy metal soundtrack that is heavy on Judas Priest, Iron Maiden and Goblin.

4. I live in a Technicolor wonderland.

5. Someone is trying to kill me.

I am bleary-eyed. I'm going to go crash for a bit.

Farmer trailing spouse

2009-03-25T15:54:00.004-04:00

The Professor went out this morning and got us a 20' x 20' (I just had a Spinal Tap Stonehenge moment there for a second) community garden space over at Westmoor Park. She has big plans. Lots of vegetables. She's already mapped it all out.

Me? I'm just looking forward to breaking out my overalls and saying things like "thick as ticks on a dog's back."

$25 for the plot. Pretty good deal. If anyone out there is interested, they should move fast. Spaces are getting snapped up quickly.

The green mile

2009-03-24T13:22:00.006-04:00

I sent a friend over to the other side today.

It was my 13" Orion TV/VCR combo unit that my parents gave me as my high school graduation gift.

Sad day. In a very odd way, it was like losing a friend. I'd had it for 13 years.

The death of the Orion was slow and painful. About two or three years ago, it started to eat videotapes. Then, shortly after moving to Connecticut, it started to hum in a strange way.

A month or so later, it wouldn't turn on. The hum turned to a scarier, electric buzz. That's when I unplugged it for good.

I spent a day looking online to try to diagnose the problem. I looked at parts to fix it, but the truth is I would have no idea what to do if I did get the right pieces.

So it was time to let the Orion go. And I wasn't about to ditch it in the bottom of a trash barrel.

I strapped it into the passenger seat. Buckled it in for safety. Then I started the drive to Best Buy.

Along the way, we reminisced about the good times. The group that huddled around the television's glow for Super Bowl XXXI, when the Patriots got crushed. The mass amount of movies my budding cinephile mind watched over that tiny tube. The travels it made. Dorms. Apartments. Different states.

No more. Now the Orion was to be eCycled.

As I watched the Geek Squad tech carry the Orion away, I gave it a little salute. It's in a better place now. Maybe the plastic from its shell will become something important.

So long, friend.

Peeps show

2009-03-21T14:07:00.003-04:00

I love marshmallow Peeps. I know most people find them disgusting, but there's something about a stiff Peep, left out of the package for a day or two, that brings me back to childhood.

And if there's one thing I like more than a tasty Peep, it's a contest using the little sugar wonders.

Just in time for Easter, the West Hartford Library is holding their first annual Peeps diorama contest. Sadly, it's only for kids. Nevertheless, I'm sure there will be some great and inventive entries. I have to assume the winners will be on display at some point.

If you've got a young Peep lover who is also into arts and crafts, follow this link to learn more.

If you just want to see cool Peep dioramas, check out this link to the Washington Post.

News and Mexican food follow-up

2009-03-19T13:32:00.007-04:00

With sentences like "The town received good news as regards current litigation this past Tuesday night . . ." the West Hartford News continues to be in the throes of a terrible bout with unprofessionalism.

Here's another example:

"It was perhaps the most discussed resolution by the Town Council, but once it passed by a 7-2 vote, the standing rules of the town council for the 2007-2009 term were revised."

And another:

"A person who owned a median-size home could expect a rise of approximately $400 for the taxpayer in annual taxes with that proposed increase."

It seems the mysterious "Mexican Restaurant" moving into the old BK space on Park Road (I wrote about it back in February) is actually a tavern:

And, judging by the sign, it also appears that this tavern is owned by the Berenstain Bears:

Vanishing sidewalk x 4

2009-03-18T13:39:00.004-04:00

This may be a bit of a controversial awarding, but I'm calling vanishing sidewalk on Trout Brook Terrace. The jug handle road, conveniently located off of Trout Brook Drive, not only has vanishing sidewalks on one end, but the other, as well.

Yes, some may say that these little nubs of sidewalk that hook off of Trout Brook Drive don't count as true vanishing sidewalks, but the fact that they begin at all makes it seem like a sidewalk should be where it isn't.

Sorry for the bad photos. You don't realize how awkward taking photos of the ground is until you catch someone watching you do it.

Something I can show you

2009-03-17T13:44:00.003-04:00

While out and about today, I parked behind a car that made me laugh. Some people like to put hats in the back window of their cars. Some put little stuffed animals. But the owner of this vehicle, well, they like bath sponges:

My favorite part of this are the two sponges that hang from the hooks over the rear passenger doors.

Bravo, sponge lover!