I rant you risten

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

K9 Conversations

1. On the topic of capital punishment that took a little twist:

You know I feel that capital punishment is ok for pedophiles..

Yeah I can see that, that’s fine with me, they can die by lethal injection.

Know what’s weird? How come most pedophiles are men? you rarely hear about a woman molesting children.. That’s psychological gender difference right? Most of the cases you hear about involve a man molesting children… but it’s never like a woman would go and grab her stepson or her daughter and do wicked things to them..

Well how about these sexy 23 year old female teachers molesting their male students in junior high and high school.. how about them? Are they fair game under capital punishment laws?

That’s not molesting.. You’re just cockblocking.. Don’t playa-hate on the little man.. ‘nuf said..

I think so..

2. Conversations with our resident MD back for a week:

So what’s new in the world of medicine.. How’s the hospital?

I just finished doing rectal surgery, I’m done with assholes..

Amen brother, amen..

I had this one case where the ER doctor tried to pin an impacted patient on me.

What the hell is that?

Well it’s basically when a patient gets way too constipated and even enemas don’t work.. We call it impacted (backed up), meaning a manual extraction of excrement is required..

Wait you mean?

Yeah, rubber gloves, insert hands into the rectum and extract whatever’s blocked up in the lower intestines.. they tried to pin it on me, but I sidestepped that one..

That’s a relief, what do you have next?

Breasts, I’m doing breasts next… no more assholes for me..

Looking forward to hearing about mammaries and areolas..

3. A slightly inebriated afternoon conversation after walking into a friend’s living room:

Look, look at him passed out on the couch in front of the TV.. we should do something to him.

What do you want to do?

Go get some tissue paper and some moisturizer. And leave it next to him..

Then what?

Then we flip the channel to hardcore gay porn and hide the remote control, minus the batteries. Either he wakes up and freaks out looking for the remote control, or his pregnant wife walks in on him passed out from masturbating to porn. Whatever the outcome, we win either way.

Yeah lets do it.. wwwaaaiitt.. just a minute.. all fun and games aside, he is the revenge specialist. Remember what happened to ustaz. He’ll get you back when you least expect it. He lives for revenge, we’re basically giving him the opportunity to let his twisted revenge oriented brain run free. If we cross this line, there’s no turning back.

Vodka tonic before we mull over our fate?

Now you’re talking

Sunday, December 17, 2006

Our Man Davis Part 4

go back and read the beginning part 1, part 2, & part 3...

Three drinks ago Davis and Viv met up with Hanson at the bar of the centro restaurant, a swanky rat pack inspired joint with black and white pictures of dead mobsters adorning the walls. It was quite obvious to Davis, three drinks ago, that Hanson has a thing for Viv. In fact, it was also quite obvious to Davis that Hanson not only has a thing for Viv, but that there was also some sort sordid history shared between the two.. Standing tall with his footballer’s physique, stories about smuggling Cuban cigars into Miami by high speed motor boats, bar room brawls in Bangkok with juiced up trannies, wrestling dwarfs for money in mexico city – Hanson played the part of the archetypical male that Viv would fall for – not your average Joe. It was through this insecure discomfort that Davis found himself on his third glass of Speyside single malt; and with hints of jealousy brooding his thoughts he orders his fourth.

Hanson knew what was going on with this granola looking tree hugger. After their acrimonious breakup, viv wanted something easy, something predictable, something she could control, and that’s why she’s dating this… this guy. From his mannerisms and small talk, Hans quickly singled him out as a phish listening pot smoking homemade bread-baking ex-hippie who probably made his own compost with all the fruit peels and biodegradable garbage in his house, or some shit like that. The fact was, and still remains that this guy has no idea what he’s gotten himself into with Viv, but Hanson knew only too well. His whirlwind romance with viv led them both onto a path of wild jaunts, strange brews, mind-altering drugs, and forged press passes. In the two years that they were a couple, they gate crashed some ridiculously insane parties; made wild animal love at sunset, atop the observation deck of a skyscraper; hauled lobster traps to see how tedious of a job it really was; get arrested a couple of times; and get a number of stitches to just name a few.. good times he thought.. real good times..

Not wanting to keep Davis feeling uncomfortable with Hanson’s brutish talk, Viv Interrupts his daydreaming with the tapping of her watch, and the three pay off their tab and set out on their way. Grabbing hold of Davis’ arm, Viv flashes him her pearly whites and he suddenly feels a little better.. no matter what, she was here with him, that guy may have the stories and scars to prove he’s her type, but she’s here with him, and that suited him just fine, for now.. Hans also notices the grins shared between the two and does little to hide the disappointed look on his face..

Three blocks down Regent Street, the trio makes a right down to southland square and end up at a nondescript door with a small sign reading “Savon Masculin”. The “gentlemen only” sign hung outside this unknown, but extremely well hidden establishment. The little door is opened by a sharply cut man in uniform who eyes the three up and down before leading them down a hallway to what they assume to be the dining room.

Savon Masculin” has been an institutional gentlemen’s club in the city for almost two hundred years now. Originally begun as a card room and opium den for the wealthy French denizens of the city, the club had taken a number of transformations, including a private speakeasy during the prohibition, and a a hush-hush burlesque cabaret with dancers shipped in from Paris. Maintaining its highbrow membership tracing back generations, “Savon Masculin” remained one of the best-kept secrets of the city, until now. The name is supposed to have been decided over a game of cards in which the winner, an entrepreneur in the soap business, went with a name to continue his legacy. The secret exclusivity of this place was felt as the three followed their guide walking past the grand foyer, closed doors, historical paintings, and shifty eyes, although they had every right to have their meal in their establishment, they certainly weren’t welcome.

‘ello ow may I ‘elp you? Yes, my name is hanson adams, I have a reservation for the degustation. Ah yes monsieur adams, I see you are three peepole, mais, the reservation is for two, you are aware that tonight eez a set dinner for a specific number of guests. You cannot expect the chef to accommodate you for not fully understanding ze strict regulations of tonight’s meal.. I ‘ave ‘alf a nerve to send you ‘ome.. I completely understand, but they will be eating, I will just seat myself with them at the table, if that’s all right with you and this friend of mine printed on this piece of paper the rest of the population accepts as legal tender. Well I suppose the torture of watching your meal eaten by someone else should compensate.. I will arrange it. Thank you for accommodating me..

Sliding up to Hanson, Viv starts questioning his motives and what his intentions really were. She couldn’t help but feel this was a deranged attempt by Hans to get into her good graces. Hans retorted with the most innocent of excuses offering his seat so the two could enjoy the meal, after all, she was more excited about tonight’s dinner than anyone of the three.. Davis, feeling awkward about being a spectator in a squabble that extended before his arrival into viv’s life, kept his mouth shut waiting in the wings. His suggestion to sit this meal out, was met with a firm no from Hanson, who insisted that his intentions remain as white as the linens on their table. In fact this would give him the opportunity to get to know Davis a little better and make up for the messy breakup and the drama that followed.

The dining room is not lavish for lavish sake, but still more than what you would normally consider rich in its settings with remaining functional and organized. The staff, standing around ready to pounce on the needs of any of the diners are stressed in their sharp uniformed Japanese designed outfits; they methodically pull chairs out, place napkins and bring forth the water.. Seating the trio at their table, the waiters orderly scurry off through their assigned walkways and flit and flutter in and out of the kitchen.. One of the well dressed crew approaches the table decanting some glasses of what looks to be a very promising new world vintage from a place you’d never consider visiting.. Another well-dressed attendant arrives to the table and begins to elucidate the experience soon to begin.

Good evening. My name is not necessary; neither are the names of the other servers. In fact we are all insignificant lemmings put in this room for one purpose, to be at your service. All you need to do is think about lifting an eyebrow and we will telepathically know you need something. In fact we will probably know, telepathically, what it is that you need before you actually voice it out. Please feel free to be as demanding and unnoticing of our effort as you please, after all, this is your experience, not ours. Tonight’s tasting will come in the form of 6 courses in no particular order except that of what the chef chooses and consists of a cheese, vegetable, fish, pheasant, essence and dessert. I hope you truly enjoy your meal and relish this opportunity to eat from the crafted hand of Chef Antoine, because chances are, you will never sample his fare again.

And with that, the enthusiasm from the diners fills the air as the other servers finish from their monologues and scurry off to the kitchen at the sound of a barrage of little bells ringing.. calling the waitstaff back to the kitchen 60 little bells resonate loudly enough through the room to announce the beginning of the first course...

The mini bells all ringing in a disorganized unison give off a parochial feel to the moment, too bad for Davis, he didn’t feel very spiritual about the whole experience to begin with. Everything happening with Viv was just turning into the sweetest love story of modern times, yet, the carnivorous exploits he had been on were enough to butcher his soul and force him down a path of bludgeoned character. One after the other, different types of meat, the taste, the idea of consuming a living being, just going up against everything he had ever been taught and known. The shame, the remorse, such strong emotions so quickly substituted with the joy and satisfaction with the presence of the beautiful companion he found in this amazing woman. Life, love, happiness, all have been enjoyed and felt on levels Davis never even knew existed.. Although too early to tell, Davis did know that this was a person he could actually see himself with, a lover he could never tire of, this relationship was quickly picking the steamy moniker of “it” – a tag that seemed to echo inside viv… With thoughts of his beloved shooing away his vegetarian conscious, she nudges Davis under the table and gives him an “I’m so excited!!” look and helps ready him for his next brush with his now shaky principles.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

My latest disappointment.. HOGs

Growing up, Harley Davidson, symbolized the modern outlaw in my meaningless book of characters. The name struck a rebel chord in me, that just settled perfectly in my psyche. Driving around the States, you’d pull up along a cluster of riders and they all looked mean, unkept, probably hungover and smelly, and that was just the women. I knew I found something that I could connect with; I liked their brazen attitude and short-term goals: booze, birds and bees. I felt solid in the 9th grade wearing my black classic harness steel toe boots with my school uniform.. I wanted a fatboy, in fact I was hoping to one day to visit the Harley Davidson head office, show them akira, the manga, and have them design me a Harley fatboy based on the bike in Akira.. the dog’s bullocks I tell you, the dog’s bullocks..

I couldn’t help but admire the carefree attitude and mischief as a group of hogs would ride through a narrow street setting all off the alarms on all the parked cars.. And then, you’d see them crack a smile as they were ready to rumble with anyone who crossed their path.. I had friends that used to ride all the way up to New Hampshire just to ditch the helmet laws and live free and maybe even die.. Stories about biker beaches bullying the Japanese super bikes off their turf made me respect their authority.. All these traits, and keeping up with my fascination for Captain America (reference, look it up), really had me sold.. On the weekends, you’d see the now-reformed ex-bikers, current VPs of large corporations who’s faces showed the scars of their illustrious bar fights and scary substance abuse, still getting in touch with their previous life.

And then, I moved back to the Middle East..

I spent a weekend with my beloved at a secluded mountain resort. Well it was us and a local Harley Chapter, who I’m sorry to say were the saddest bunch of outlaws my eyes have ever laid on.. I’m not going to interfere with the whole thrill of being on a bike and riding - that’s a special bond everyone makes between their machine and the road.. but for me, the persona was completely lost. The Rock of Foghat was replaced by the high pitched ballads of Air Supply, painful, very painful.. my qualms are as follows..

Marketing suckers..
These folk not only were trying too hard to look like they were part of a biker gang, but they actually sat there and bought every single piece of Harley Davidson merchandise they could get their hands on.. with all the little badges and patches and dumb stickers.. I can’t stand these little bumper stickers people put on their helmets. I’d normally give you the one finger salute but I’m on my ride (WHAT?? that’s the best you can come up with? That’s the sticker you’ve got on your helmet? That’s your level of how badass you are?? Why couldn’t it have been something like I call this hog your mother, she loves getting between my legs for a ride. At least I can respect that) Stickers are ok for a gag, but for your bad ass ride with your biker gang? Doesn’t say much about your biker gang Wyatt.. and what’s with the patches, what the hell are we the boy scouts?

And the merchandise… Que paso hombre? Did you lose your balls to the QVC channel? I can understand, the boots, the padded jacket, and maybe a couple of knick knacks.. but zippo lighters, t-shirts, jeans, socks, shot glasses, bed spreads, hanging racks.. I partially blame the Harley Davidson organization for this merchandising.. They created such a die hard loyal customer base, that they could sell bottled water and a lot of these bikers would buy cases of it.. don’t deny it..

Ohh and deary, those leather pants and bandana might have looked good on you when you were 23, but those days are long gone.. just cause Samantha Fox pulled the look off in the 80s, doesn’t mean you can too.. my poor retinas have been scarred for life..

This just didn’t settle right with me.. first off you’re a biker gang, albeit a tame biker gang, but for this weekend, you’re abiding by the rules of the road, live them.. Upon checkout, I was stranded at the front desk with a couple of these “ruffians”.. All joking about, ready for a laugh – they seemed like a jovial bunch, no one complaining about their headaches, but everyone talking about how much alcohol they consumed and who got a little frisky with who.. now I’ve had to make my fair share of late checkouts because of wild antics the night before, I have never in my life looked as fresh and just ready as this bunch..

The icing on my cake was when a couple of the crew were arguing with the hotel staff how they didn’t have anything from the minibar.. wait what? and might I add that these complaints were coming from the one guy who looked like the baddest of the bunch.. Vehemently denying how he touched the minibar – needless to say, I was shocked, you’re all talking about how boozed up you got, but everyone looked fresh to me.. you all talked about how pissed up you got, but no one reeked of alcohol. And then no one had a mishap with the minibar? Vivid imagery of some burly biker lifting up the minibar over his head and letting all the little plastic bottles fall into his mouth were quickly dispelled.. shame.. I was hoping at least the Harley crew would cause a little trouble.. just a bit would’ve been fine..

Disney World is a family vacation, a picnic out in the desert is a family vacation, a water park – family vacation.. bringing your annoying like snot of a kid with you on your ride? What are you thinking? A bunch of these people there need to just unwind, get boozed up, maybe a little promiscuous casual roll between the sheets, that’s all part of a weekend away.. but bring your child? This must have been the most annoying little 4 year old I had ever seen.. high on what looked like a little much sugar this brat decided to run around and give everyone a makeshift raspberry, including me, the casual bystander just looking to close out his bill.. I was ready to punt the little git, before I saw his mother attempting to discipline her son.. Come to think of it, the son’s disrespect for authority was probably the only real bad ass thing about that crew – and it had to come from a 4 year old.. tisk tisk..

To Harley Davidson, I’m disappointed in how you’ve managed to merchandise everything and turn your customers into walking adverts..

To real bikers, there’s a bunch of people giving you a bad rep, a really bad rep..

I’m off to drool over a Triumph, at least their branding and customer loyalty is still at an early stage..

Monday, December 04, 2006

Our Man Davis Part 3

if you didn't read Part 1, here it is
and if you didn't read Part 2, here it is

Viv, I know it’s been a while, but this is kinda important, so just hear me out.. Remember how we both agreed that if and when Chef Antoine makes a stateside appearance, we promised ourselves that we weren’t going to miss it? Well It seems good fortune took a very nice dump on us. After registering an interest on his forum six months ago, I got a mysterious email last week about a reservation for the day after tomorrow. It seems the master is back in town and we’ve got tickets to the show. Now I know, you might be still be a little upset about what happened with your cat, I mean it was wrong and stupid of me to try and break into your apartment, and then inadvertently stomp and kill your cat in the whole mess, I can see why you’d be upset. There really was no excuse for my actions. But I am past that period in my life and after countless hours of therapy, medication and a lot of soul searching and soul answering, I am completely over the whole situation, I really feel fine and want us to get back to being friends again. I just got a call this morning confirming the reservation, actually it felt more like it was being dictated to me, but hey it’s Antoine, I’m not arguing.. I agreed over the phone and the amount was immediately deducted – so I’ve committed us to dinner. I know whatever you’re thinking, and let me ease your worries by dispelling those thoughts from your head, I’m calling because this is Chef Antoine, not just some decorated 3 star chef, this is the underbelly of haute cuisine. Daring, and unperturbed by any morsel, this is the ultimate adventure in our culinary exploits – we will walk the tightrope of fine dining and gastronomical anomalies.. I feel like a babbling idiot for having drawn this message out so long, give me a call and lets enjoy this experience together, as friends of course..

Hanson, wow, I really wasn’t expecting to hear from you, really. I mean, I thought we agreed I wouldn’t press charges as long as you left me alone… You tried to break into my apartment, then climbed up the fire escape, broke my window and cut yourself in the process, stomped and murdered my cat, and bled all over my floor. I walked into my apartment and found you laying there unconscious bleeding all over my carpet. I had to call the paramedics and then carpet cleaners immediately – do you know how difficult it is to clean human and feline bloodstains? I know about the therapy and the medication, I spoke to your mother and although I can empathize with her reasoning and attempts to convince me that you weren’t a cretin. It was very nice of you to think of me with the reservations and all, considering it was me who first introduced you to the epicurean realm of Antoine – and it was me who said that I’d gladly lop off and give away your left nut for an 8 course degustation by the chef.. All that said, I admit I am impressed that you managed to score a reservation, the last time he was in town, tables were being scalped for a couple of thousand dollars a pop – hats off, really.. Unfortunately, I can’t make it for a couple of reasons, the obvious one being that I still think you’re capable of going postal on me, and, I’m trying to think of the best way of saying this, but the words aren’t forming so I’ll just come out and say it: I’m seeing someone... I’m seeing someone, and I’m happy with him, and I don’t know how comfortable he’d feel with me going out to dinner with you. So thanks for the invite, but I’m seeing someone and I just can’t do dinner with you behind his back, and I don’t feel like explaining everything to him about us, so it’s just too messy.. Enjoy the meal

Listen viv, I totally understand why you’d refuse the invitation, considering everything that’s happened between us the last couple of months, but I really did call you as a friend. It really is insulting that you’d think of me wanting to try and win you back – or that I haven’t healed completely in regards to our relationship. I’m a different person now, and I have started seeing someone myself, but she’s just not that into food, and I would’ve invited a buddy of mine, but you were the only one who’d really appreciate the meal and the effort that went into it. If it would make you feel better, why don’t you invite your boyfriend. I just called and squeezed a table for the three of us, if he’s interested.. Everything is so secretive, I won’t know the destination till a couple of hours before the meal.. maybe we should all meet up for a drink before dinner and then head out there.. I’ll give you a call..

Hey it’s me, just wanted to say hi and see if you’re were free and interested in having the most exclusive / exquisite meal in town tonight.. dare I say it? maybe even this year... spoke to a friend of mine, well he’s more of an acquaintance and it seems chef Antoine de Baussy, umpteen star rated chef is in town and is looking to really cook up a storm. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of him, but Antione’s meals are always unconventional, strange and incredibly delicious. Having studied under the greatest of masters, his eccentricity has always gotten him kicked out of kitchens and restaurants – but he has a faithful following that will do whatever to taste his creations. He spends four months a year traveling the world sampling some of the most peculiar fare and exclusively preparing meals for those that can afford it. Eating a dish prepared by him is up there with drinking absinthe and taking art classes with van gogh. To be honest with you, I would die to eat his food, but I don’t like the person pushing out the invite too much. I mentioned having a boyfriend and you were immediately invited. I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but it does to me, and having you there would really make this special meal more memorable.. so what do you say? Wanna help a cute girl out? I promise to make it worth your while..