Monday, February 26, 2007
Places I Have Eaten
Sorry for the lack of stuff lately; been in training again.
The missus hankered for a fine meal on Saturday night, so around four o'clock we reserved ourselves a table for 9 pm at Petit Robert and commenced with the anticipating. She'd eaten there a time or two in the past, and loved it, whereas I was entering a complete novice. Due to the addvanced praise my hopes were as high as the restaurant's falution. Thankfully Petit Robert pulled through with perhaps the most awesome dining experience ever.
We arrived five minutes before our reservation time, and immediately could tell we wouldn't be seated at nine. There were a half-dozen or so other couples standing around waiting, along with a party of four. The hostess girl (kinda hot) was as harried as the protagonist of Sega's arcade classic Space Harrier II, constantly asking the passing waiters and waitresses how much longer certain tables would be, while continually doling out menus and winelists as requested by the wait staff and the waiting customers. We grabbed some wallspace next to the hostess's computer, which kept track of the reservations, and we noticed that couples with 8:30 times still had yet to be seated. The bar was packed, so all we could do was stand there in the very small and overly crowded entrance, with me lingering on the staircase to the downstairs dining room. We stood there for about a half-hour, partially obstructing the wait staff as they ferried food up and down the stairs, as the hostess got more and more frantic with each passing minute. Eventually the bar opened up, so we went downstairs, grabbed a drink, and watched the pastry chefs make some desserts. The desserts looked AWESOME. The kindly manager, a dead ringer for Ken Marino with a British accent, personally took our drink orders, and was about as nice as any restaurant-affiliated employee I've ever encountered. After ten or fifteen more minutes at the bar, the manager told us our table was ready, and led us back upstairs. We finally got a table around 9:40. The fun was about to begin.
We fell in love with the people sitting at the table next to us. The man was fairly non-descript, kinda schlubby, bald and bespectacled and not exactly well-dressed. He looked like Neal Boortz. His lady-friend, though, was amazing; her long black hair was teased out, her coat was made of some sort of animal fur dyed with fake leopard spots, and her accent was as nasal and New Yawk as any ever heard outside of The Nanny. If she wasn't some mobster's little girl, she certainly wanted to look the part. Except, you know, she was like 45, or something. Anyway, as we sat down they were having a fairly loud fight; that ended quickly enough for us not to catch any of the specifics, but I hope to God it had something to do with the lady bitching about Boortz not leaving his wife for her yet. The spat ended when the wine arrived; they placed their orders, and everything seemed to be fine. My wife wound up ordering the same thing Boortz did, a lamb cassoulet. A few minutes after we order, the waitress brings Boortz and his Debi Mazarian friend their food. Instead of the cassoulet, he was given some other lamb dish. He complained a little, his friend complained a lot; to mollify them while the cook made the right dish the manager brought them a free appetizer. Boortzy refused the appetizer, though, telling the manager to give it to somebody who'd actually want it; that turned out to be his lady-friend, who was more than happy to eat it alongside her entree.
Ten minutes later, the waitress brought us our food. Same mistake. Instead of the cassoulet, they brought my wife the other lamb dish. No problem, though; she still had some soup, and there was still bread in our basket, so we could wait. I picked at my roast chicken (with natural juices) a bit, but mostly waited for her cassoulet to show up. Soon she had her food, we began to eat, and everything was excellent. Then the water lady spilled a pitcher of water all over Ms. Princess and her fur coat. Poor, poor water lady. Drescher yelled at the water lady for a few seconds, grabbed her coat, and ran to the bathroom. Boortz laughed a little when she was gone and kept on eating. The water lady cleaned up the mess, apparently taking Fran's glass of wine away in the process. The manager was apologizing to Boortz when Drescher got back to the table; she yelled out that she was all wet, and her coat was all wet, and how they needed to get their meal for free, as loudly and nasally as humanly possible. She then noticed her wine glass was gone, and began to complain about that. The manager apologized profusely, but with all dignity intact. He brought by a free bottle of wine to replace the bit that was taken away, and also offered free desserts. That didn't keep Fran from complaining the rest of the night, though. We also got free desserts, and a couple of free beers, ostensibly because of the cassoulet mishap; I think it was actually the restaurant apologizing for seating us next to these two, though.
Anyhow, despite how it might sound, nothing about this meal was that big of a hassle or inconvenience. We didn't mind the wait at all, and even the entree mix-up was completely fine with us. In fact the stuff with the other table was so awesome that any inconveniences would've been cool even if they had been major. The food was tremendous, probably the second-best meal I've had in this town, and the wait staff was friendly and pleasing to the eye. I heartily endorse Petit Robert, especially if they can seat you next to a couple of entertainingly immature assholes.
Sorry for the lack of stuff lately; been in training again.
The missus hankered for a fine meal on Saturday night, so around four o'clock we reserved ourselves a table for 9 pm at Petit Robert and commenced with the anticipating. She'd eaten there a time or two in the past, and loved it, whereas I was entering a complete novice. Due to the addvanced praise my hopes were as high as the restaurant's falution. Thankfully Petit Robert pulled through with perhaps the most awesome dining experience ever.
We arrived five minutes before our reservation time, and immediately could tell we wouldn't be seated at nine. There were a half-dozen or so other couples standing around waiting, along with a party of four. The hostess girl (kinda hot) was as harried as the protagonist of Sega's arcade classic Space Harrier II, constantly asking the passing waiters and waitresses how much longer certain tables would be, while continually doling out menus and winelists as requested by the wait staff and the waiting customers. We grabbed some wallspace next to the hostess's computer, which kept track of the reservations, and we noticed that couples with 8:30 times still had yet to be seated. The bar was packed, so all we could do was stand there in the very small and overly crowded entrance, with me lingering on the staircase to the downstairs dining room. We stood there for about a half-hour, partially obstructing the wait staff as they ferried food up and down the stairs, as the hostess got more and more frantic with each passing minute. Eventually the bar opened up, so we went downstairs, grabbed a drink, and watched the pastry chefs make some desserts. The desserts looked AWESOME. The kindly manager, a dead ringer for Ken Marino with a British accent, personally took our drink orders, and was about as nice as any restaurant-affiliated employee I've ever encountered. After ten or fifteen more minutes at the bar, the manager told us our table was ready, and led us back upstairs. We finally got a table around 9:40. The fun was about to begin.
We fell in love with the people sitting at the table next to us. The man was fairly non-descript, kinda schlubby, bald and bespectacled and not exactly well-dressed. He looked like Neal Boortz. His lady-friend, though, was amazing; her long black hair was teased out, her coat was made of some sort of animal fur dyed with fake leopard spots, and her accent was as nasal and New Yawk as any ever heard outside of The Nanny. If she wasn't some mobster's little girl, she certainly wanted to look the part. Except, you know, she was like 45, or something. Anyway, as we sat down they were having a fairly loud fight; that ended quickly enough for us not to catch any of the specifics, but I hope to God it had something to do with the lady bitching about Boortz not leaving his wife for her yet. The spat ended when the wine arrived; they placed their orders, and everything seemed to be fine. My wife wound up ordering the same thing Boortz did, a lamb cassoulet. A few minutes after we order, the waitress brings Boortz and his Debi Mazarian friend their food. Instead of the cassoulet, he was given some other lamb dish. He complained a little, his friend complained a lot; to mollify them while the cook made the right dish the manager brought them a free appetizer. Boortzy refused the appetizer, though, telling the manager to give it to somebody who'd actually want it; that turned out to be his lady-friend, who was more than happy to eat it alongside her entree.
Ten minutes later, the waitress brought us our food. Same mistake. Instead of the cassoulet, they brought my wife the other lamb dish. No problem, though; she still had some soup, and there was still bread in our basket, so we could wait. I picked at my roast chicken (with natural juices) a bit, but mostly waited for her cassoulet to show up. Soon she had her food, we began to eat, and everything was excellent. Then the water lady spilled a pitcher of water all over Ms. Princess and her fur coat. Poor, poor water lady. Drescher yelled at the water lady for a few seconds, grabbed her coat, and ran to the bathroom. Boortz laughed a little when she was gone and kept on eating. The water lady cleaned up the mess, apparently taking Fran's glass of wine away in the process. The manager was apologizing to Boortz when Drescher got back to the table; she yelled out that she was all wet, and her coat was all wet, and how they needed to get their meal for free, as loudly and nasally as humanly possible. She then noticed her wine glass was gone, and began to complain about that. The manager apologized profusely, but with all dignity intact. He brought by a free bottle of wine to replace the bit that was taken away, and also offered free desserts. That didn't keep Fran from complaining the rest of the night, though. We also got free desserts, and a couple of free beers, ostensibly because of the cassoulet mishap; I think it was actually the restaurant apologizing for seating us next to these two, though.
Anyhow, despite how it might sound, nothing about this meal was that big of a hassle or inconvenience. We didn't mind the wait at all, and even the entree mix-up was completely fine with us. In fact the stuff with the other table was so awesome that any inconveniences would've been cool even if they had been major. The food was tremendous, probably the second-best meal I've had in this town, and the wait staff was friendly and pleasing to the eye. I heartily endorse Petit Robert, especially if they can seat you next to a couple of entertainingly immature assholes.
Friday, February 09, 2007
radio
Okay, haven't mentioned this yet, but Mesmerization Eclipse has been moved back to Fridays. Also, I'll be doing an extra hour tonight. So yes, that's today, on WZBC 90.3 FM, from 3 to 6 pm.
Okay, haven't mentioned this yet, but Mesmerization Eclipse has been moved back to Fridays. Also, I'll be doing an extra hour tonight. So yes, that's today, on WZBC 90.3 FM, from 3 to 6 pm.
Irish Folk Tales Scare the Shit Out of Me
I just ate a couple of heart attacks' worth of sausage and tater tots, in hopes of greasing away my hangover. I love DJ'ing at River Gods, but I always wind up as drunk as a country priest. Endless free booze'll do that to me, I guess. Despite a brief technical problem (one of the cd-r's I burned yesterday wouldn't play past track four, which led to twenty or so seconds of dead air), last night went pretty well. Here's what I played, not quite in the correct order:
Captain Beyond "Sufficiently Breathless"
Robert Calvert "The Aerospaceage Inferno"
Deerhunter "Cryptograms"
Brian Eno "Needles in the Camel's Eye"
Neu "Hallogallo"
The Moles "Bury Me Happy"
Je Suis France "That Don't Work That Well For Me" (WIFE MADE ME DO IT)
Hawkwind "Opa-Loka"
The Clean "Whatever I Do It's..."
Il Balletto Di Bronzo "Terzo Incontro"
Guided By Voices "Yours To Keep" / "Echoes Myron"
Devo "Auto Modown" / "Space Girl Blues"
Boyracer "Your Dark Secrets"
Fresh Maggots "Dole Song"
Yo La Tengo "Damage"
Dark Meat "Angel Of Meth"
Oneida "Caesar's Column"
Unrest "Make Out Club"
Superchunk "100,000 Fireflies"
Galaxie 500 "Summertime"
I was too hungover to grab any different cds this morning, so I'll pretty much be playing stuff from these same albums on my show today. Excitement.
I just ate a couple of heart attacks' worth of sausage and tater tots, in hopes of greasing away my hangover. I love DJ'ing at River Gods, but I always wind up as drunk as a country priest. Endless free booze'll do that to me, I guess. Despite a brief technical problem (one of the cd-r's I burned yesterday wouldn't play past track four, which led to twenty or so seconds of dead air), last night went pretty well. Here's what I played, not quite in the correct order:
Captain Beyond "Sufficiently Breathless"
Robert Calvert "The Aerospaceage Inferno"
Deerhunter "Cryptograms"
Brian Eno "Needles in the Camel's Eye"
Neu "Hallogallo"
The Moles "Bury Me Happy"
Je Suis France "That Don't Work That Well For Me" (WIFE MADE ME DO IT)
Hawkwind "Opa-Loka"
The Clean "Whatever I Do It's..."
Il Balletto Di Bronzo "Terzo Incontro"
Guided By Voices "Yours To Keep" / "Echoes Myron"
Devo "Auto Modown" / "Space Girl Blues"
Boyracer "Your Dark Secrets"
Fresh Maggots "Dole Song"
Yo La Tengo "Damage"
Dark Meat "Angel Of Meth"
Oneida "Caesar's Column"
Unrest "Make Out Club"
Superchunk "100,000 Fireflies"
Galaxie 500 "Summertime"
I was too hungover to grab any different cds this morning, so I'll pretty much be playing stuff from these same albums on my show today. Excitement.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
personal appearances
If I know you, and you are in Boston, then you should head over to River Gods on River Street in Cambridge around 8:30 pm this evening. I'll be DJ'ing from then 'til ten, and afterward John Straub of the Kraft-o-Matic Bed o' Nine Tails will be doing the monthly WZBC Countdown for January.
If I know you, and you are in Boston, then you should head over to River Gods on River Street in Cambridge around 8:30 pm this evening. I'll be DJ'ing from then 'til ten, and afterward John Straub of the Kraft-o-Matic Bed o' Nine Tails will be doing the monthly WZBC Countdown for January.
Monday, February 05, 2007
indavertent frat guy tuck
The back of my shirt will not stay tucked in. Should I keep on retucking it, or simply yank out the front so as to maintain equilibrium? Keep in mind I am at work, and am wearing a sweater over the shirt. The shirt has a collar, and stripes, and used to belong to my dad, who can no longer wear it since getting the diabetes.
The back of my shirt will not stay tucked in. Should I keep on retucking it, or simply yank out the front so as to maintain equilibrium? Keep in mind I am at work, and am wearing a sweater over the shirt. The shirt has a collar, and stripes, and used to belong to my dad, who can no longer wear it since getting the diabetes.
What I Did During The Superbowl
I walked Oscar about five times. I also read the following:
Fantastic Four / Iron Man : Big In Japan # 1-4.
This fun little mini-series is a nice antidote to the laughably stern-faced Civil War crap that's completely taken Marvel over as of late. The FF and Tony Stark are invited to attend the grand opening of Tokyo's giant monster museum, where they house artifacts from the days when Japan was regularly attacked by massive radioactive monsters. Soon enough these megalosauri, who haven't been seen in decades, return and reek havoc upon Tokyo. The FF and Iron Man team up to stop them, and in the process discover there's something far more sinister afoot. The story's fine enough, and the dialogue is frequently funny, but the main point of interest here is the art. Seth Fisher's cartoonish drawings are incredibly intricate and detailed, and his occasional appropriation of manga elements fits the story and the setting but is reined in enough to not become too distracting. Overall this is really fun yet inconsequential, which I'll take over painfully serious and "important" almost any day of the week. Unfortunately Fisher died before the final issue was published.
Drax The Destroyer # 1-4.
Civil war and Infinite Crisis got all the attention, but Annihilation was the best comic "event" of '06. This Drax miniseries is basically a precursor to that, reintroducing the Drax the Destroyer character, and showing us how he became connected to that overly sassy Earth girl who's been tagging along with him. Like Annihilation, Drax is written by Keith Giffen, as solid a pro as ever drew breath, and the occasional creator of truly great comics. Drax isn't quite great, but it does adroitly balance humor, violence, and human drama, without skewing too far into any one direction. It's apparently almost impossible to portray alcholism or parental neglect in a superhero comic without inviting some unintentional guffaws; Giffen comes close here, though. There's a relatively understated (for a comic book) scene that recalls the one from Freaks And Geeks when Bill Haverchuck comes home to an empty apartment after school, makes himself a sandwich, and watches tv. Giffen's always excelled at portraying his comic-book characters as real and believable people, and despite her occasionally overbearing attitude, this girl Cammi is no exception. And this book needed somebody to bear the dramatic burden, as Drax is little more than a cross-section of action movie and sci-fi cliches. Overall this is a fine mini-series; the story is kind of slight, and there's no direct connection to Annihilation, but the characters of Drax and Cammi are fleshed out a bit more than was possible in that over-stuffed event.
Checkmate Vol. 2 # 1-7.
Like almost all the new comics launched by DC in the wake of Infinite Crisis, this solid espionage / super-hero hybrid has been suffering from miserable sales. I'd be surprised if Checkmate reached issue number 25. And that's a shame, as the book has gotten progressively better over the last year. I bought the first issue back in April, and wasn't very impressed. I picked up 2 through 10 during NEC's half-off sale last week, based on many positive reviews around the internet, and I certainly don't regret it. Like his former Gotham Central co-writer Ed Brubaker, Greg Rucka is adept at incorporating superheroes into real world settings without resorting to dull, grim 'n' gritty nonsense. Thus far Rucka has focused on political maneuvering and diplomacy as much as he has neck-snapping and rage-fisting, as the half-superhuman, half-non-powered espionage organization has gone up against both the terrorist cult Kobra and the international interests who wish to strip the agency of its UN sponsorship. Checkmate is definitely kind of a goofball concept, basically an Impossible Mission Force with a chess-based structure, but Rucka approaches it with a straight face, and in the process crafts a comic that, like 24, is gripping and complex while also being inherently ridiculous.
I walked Oscar about five times. I also read the following:
Fantastic Four / Iron Man : Big In Japan # 1-4.
This fun little mini-series is a nice antidote to the laughably stern-faced Civil War crap that's completely taken Marvel over as of late. The FF and Tony Stark are invited to attend the grand opening of Tokyo's giant monster museum, where they house artifacts from the days when Japan was regularly attacked by massive radioactive monsters. Soon enough these megalosauri, who haven't been seen in decades, return and reek havoc upon Tokyo. The FF and Iron Man team up to stop them, and in the process discover there's something far more sinister afoot. The story's fine enough, and the dialogue is frequently funny, but the main point of interest here is the art. Seth Fisher's cartoonish drawings are incredibly intricate and detailed, and his occasional appropriation of manga elements fits the story and the setting but is reined in enough to not become too distracting. Overall this is really fun yet inconsequential, which I'll take over painfully serious and "important" almost any day of the week. Unfortunately Fisher died before the final issue was published.
Drax The Destroyer # 1-4.
Civil war and Infinite Crisis got all the attention, but Annihilation was the best comic "event" of '06. This Drax miniseries is basically a precursor to that, reintroducing the Drax the Destroyer character, and showing us how he became connected to that overly sassy Earth girl who's been tagging along with him. Like Annihilation, Drax is written by Keith Giffen, as solid a pro as ever drew breath, and the occasional creator of truly great comics. Drax isn't quite great, but it does adroitly balance humor, violence, and human drama, without skewing too far into any one direction. It's apparently almost impossible to portray alcholism or parental neglect in a superhero comic without inviting some unintentional guffaws; Giffen comes close here, though. There's a relatively understated (for a comic book) scene that recalls the one from Freaks And Geeks when Bill Haverchuck comes home to an empty apartment after school, makes himself a sandwich, and watches tv. Giffen's always excelled at portraying his comic-book characters as real and believable people, and despite her occasionally overbearing attitude, this girl Cammi is no exception. And this book needed somebody to bear the dramatic burden, as Drax is little more than a cross-section of action movie and sci-fi cliches. Overall this is a fine mini-series; the story is kind of slight, and there's no direct connection to Annihilation, but the characters of Drax and Cammi are fleshed out a bit more than was possible in that over-stuffed event.
Checkmate Vol. 2 # 1-7.
Like almost all the new comics launched by DC in the wake of Infinite Crisis, this solid espionage / super-hero hybrid has been suffering from miserable sales. I'd be surprised if Checkmate reached issue number 25. And that's a shame, as the book has gotten progressively better over the last year. I bought the first issue back in April, and wasn't very impressed. I picked up 2 through 10 during NEC's half-off sale last week, based on many positive reviews around the internet, and I certainly don't regret it. Like his former Gotham Central co-writer Ed Brubaker, Greg Rucka is adept at incorporating superheroes into real world settings without resorting to dull, grim 'n' gritty nonsense. Thus far Rucka has focused on political maneuvering and diplomacy as much as he has neck-snapping and rage-fisting, as the half-superhuman, half-non-powered espionage organization has gone up against both the terrorist cult Kobra and the international interests who wish to strip the agency of its UN sponsorship. Checkmate is definitely kind of a goofball concept, basically an Impossible Mission Force with a chess-based structure, but Rucka approaches it with a straight face, and in the process crafts a comic that, like 24, is gripping and complex while also being inherently ridiculous.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Improvised Ebay Dividends
Some enterprising fellow on a local message-board I frequent snagged one of the "suspicious devices" off of Commonwealth Ave before the bomb squad could detonate it. He's now selling it on eBay. It's made it up to $5000 in just hours.
Some enterprising fellow on a local message-board I frequent snagged one of the "suspicious devices" off of Commonwealth Ave before the bomb squad could detonate it. He's now selling it on eBay. It's made it up to $5000 in just hours.
