beans have feelings too

I don't consider myself a heckler, but at a comedy show I can't stop myself. If I'm in the front row at a comedy show I can't help but to put my two cents out there. And what's wrong with that? I've seen some comics come up with some pretty great on the spot jokes about people in the audience. Why not make a joke about me? I'll laugh, and probably harder than anyone else in the joint. However, this weekend at the Jay Mohr show, I held back. For the sake of my friends, who didn't want to be on the end of a joke, I kept it down. And after two Galapagos Giggler's that was pretty tough. Turns out I owe Kristy and Holly a big thank you because, during the course of the show, Mr. Mohr completely ripped into people who heckle. In such a big way you wondered if it wasn't really an act; he really hates those people. It would have been pretty shitty to have been standing face to face at the end of the show (as we were, because our new friend Walter introduced us) and then he would be like, "hey you were that be-otch in the front row!"

I never used to be a huge fan of the solid fat called butter. But once again I have noticed a dish so superb and made with butter I can't resist to tell you all. Ruth's Chris Steak House serves its steaks on a heated plate filled with melted butter. I would have never thought to let meat hang in a wading pool of butter, but it rocks. Not much else to say on the topic. But to get onto another point, I think I'll start posting again. It's fun, and I must convince you that I'm not only obsessed with butter, but with other worth while dairy products as well.

One of my new favorite restaurants is a cute little place called Wabi Sabi. Mike, one of the sushi chef's, is always tanked on sake, and makes the best rolls this side of the Mississippi. You can always count on him to yield the powers of his magic knifes and send a fluttering butterfly made only with a carrot across the bar. At first I only sat at the bar, enjoying delectable raw fish delights, but one day we decided to sit at a table. This aren't your standard tables, much like Benehanna's (sp) they surround an open grill, and you sit with strangers if your there with a small party. OK, I can dig it. It's a blast. Everyone is always having a good time, getting little bits of food tossed into there mouth by the chef, who at the same time is making a volcano out of an onion (like I said before, magical knifes, but this time add a little fire). These guys are pro's, and not only do they make flaming onion volcano's, flip food in your mouth with incredible accuracy, crack eggs in mid air, and spin knifes around like a baton, they cook the most phenomenal food. Now like I said before everything is cooked on an open grill right in front of you, and a lot of it is made all together. Meaning, one big batch of fried rice is stirred up for the whole table. So we've established two things, the food is incredible, and they cook family style. Get ready for the rant (you knew it had to come sooner or later). If you know all this, why would you go there to make menu modifications. I can sympathize with people who eat low fat, or no salt diets, but really, Wabi Sabi ain't Burger King, they don't make it your way. Of course this rant was inspired by an actual event, my last lunch was almost ruined by a crazed no oil, no sauce, no salt wife, who spoke for the both of them if you know what I mean. Every no salt on our shrimp, no sauce on our fried rice, you could see the chef wince with pain. His food was being ruined in front of his very eyes. And I was in terror, I go there for great food, and didn't want my meal to be bland and boring. Some how the chef pulled it off by practicly separated our food, but you could tell it was tough for him. So to give the guy a little support, I let out a little cheer every time he put salt, sauce, or butter on anything. I tip my big puffy paper hat to Ronny the best and most patient chef at Wabi Sabi. And to the no salt, I wear the pants in this family lady, don't even think about sitting at my table again, I'm liable to chuck a mini soy sauce bottle at your head.

I'll never forget the April Fools joke played on me in the 7th grade. This girl Nikki (who I didn't hate, but didn't like either) comes up to me with a few more of our friends and says she knows someone who likes me. All right, I'm digging this already because what's better than finding out some guy likes you. I mean even if he's a dork, at least you know someone noticed you, right. Anyway, she goes on to say, "but he doesn't like a few things about you." Talk about a peek and valley, from ego-maniac to thinking I should have never crimped my hair this morning. It turns out he thinks my cheeks are too big (understandable, I do have a round face), I smell (I did just get out of gym class), and I sit with my legs open. OK, now I'm pissed, sit with my legs open, how dare he. But Nikki is like, "I promised not to tell you who it is," and runs off. I start to get over it. It must have been some weird one off time I wasn't sitting like a lady, and like I said I'm not always coming out of gym class. He can live with the cheeks though right, I mean if he likes me already, then he'll get over it. And anyway, I'm cute and my cheeks are cute too. I'm thinking, cool, I'm going to get a boyfriend (because if you brushed hands in the hall way you were going "out" in the seventh grade). Having a pretty good 15 minutes, then Nikki comes back. She's like, "hey the guy that likes you is John," and everyone started roaring with laughter. I'm frozen thinking of the John's I know, when it hits me. April fool's. I just thought that a toilet liked me. I've never had an April Fool's day since then that I didn't think about that joke.

Plagiarising from one of my favorite April Fool hater's, hope you didn't run into an April Tool.

I was opening up a piece of gum the other day and I'm reminded of a ride in the back seat of my parents '74 Chevy Impala when I was about five years old. My friend and I were picked up from dance class and were on our way home. My Mom passes us a pack of gum, and we dig in. All of a sudden while chomping down on my Juicy Fruit I had a brilliant idea. Since my birthday was coming up, I would write my invitations on the paper part of the wrapper of the gum, wrap it back up and had it out to my friends. It was brilliant, the necessary info for the party, a little sparkle (the foil part), and a treat to boot. I proudly told my Mom about the idea right away. She shot it down faster than she hits the break when someone is slowing down a mile in front of her. But she did offer to take me shopping for something nicer. I was satisfied to shop, and completely forgot about the gum idea. So what would have happened if I indeed invited my friends to my birthday party on a gum wrapper. Would the entire family have been embarrassed, would anyone have come to the shin dig? Or would it have been a huge hit, the next best way to send a message with a treat since the fortune cookie? Who knows, I guess I'll never know. Yes a weird story, but you gotta love those random memories that pop into your head.

What is it about being in class that makes me so sleepy. I know this effects other people too, because I can see heads bobbing in class, and people with impressions of buttons on their cheek in the halls. How can your eyelids all of a sudden have to power to stay open? I haven't been to school in almost a year, and this week I'm faced with insurance class. One of the most boring subjects I've ever been in front of, so you can imagine how heavy my eyelids are. And I'll go out on a limb here and say it's not always the teachers fault. Most of the time it could be, but I've even fallen asleep in my favorite classes during a great lecture. We also know it's not ourselves, not those plush chairs in class rooms, so what is it. I propose a study to find out what about a class room makes fighting z's an impossible battle. And in the mean time, insurance class teacher guy, please tell the state I attended my 52 hrs, because if I have to come again I'll be carrying my pillow in.

If being 26 is going to be as good as 25 was, bring it on! I had one of the best years of my life, and now that I'm looking forward I think the next one will be even better. A re-cap of my twenty-fifth year on this planet.

Bling Bling...Made more money while I was 25 than any other two years combined. Seems obvious since I'm at the point where I'm getting started with a career, but there's more too it. Many of my co-workers doing the same thing made half as much as me. I got lucky getting into the position, but I kicked ass at my job. So now I'm some place new, and not making as much money. The good news is, if all goes as I plan I should be kicking my previous gross income into outer space with in the next few years.

Pink slip...Sounds like a bad thing, but it was probably the best thing that's ever happened to me. I got laid off, and first I was pissed. I was one of the top sales persons in the office, but I got let go because of seniority. But it taught me a few things and opened up the opportunity of a life time. First I learned that I need a job that rewards and compensates for performance, therefore never again accept a position in a company that promotes and fires based on seniority. Second, work for yourself even if you work for someone else. And of course the best part about being laid off, vacation with severance pay!!! All of a sudden having loads of free time and a pay check at the same time let me take vacations of a life time. I spent about five weeks traveling. Some with my family, who even though we fight a lot, I love to spend time with and three of those weeks were in Europe (my first time) on my own. And I loved it. I threw a coin in Trevi fountain because I will be back to Rome. I fell in love with Italy, and all because I got a severance package.

I'm melting...Did what almost every women in America says she'll do but never does, shed a few pounds. I think I'm like most women out there, I just wanted to lose 5 or 10 pounds. No big deal, but I actually did it and it was easy.

We need to talk...I had some really meaningful conversations with Steve. A lot of it good, but even less pleasant conversations have been valuable to our relationship. Thank you Steve.

The icing on the cake...Got a dream job. Independence, unlimited income potential, my own office, and benefits; who could ask for more. I'm not, but guess what, there's more: most everyone I work with is cool (gotta say most cause you never know if my nemesis is disguised for the time being), my boss is possibly the best boss I'll ever have, the environment is motivating, I get to try out my own ideas, and did I mention an office? I just started a few months ago and I can't wait to see where this position is going to take me.

For some reason I find it strange that my Dad is crashing on my couch. True the circumstances are unusual ,but not totally unavoidable if better planned. So he asks me, and I'm thinking to my self, wasn't not too long ago that I was asking him to borrow the car to hang with my friends? But really it's been years, and since this visit coincided with my birthday, I'm feeling a little aged. No biggy, I'm not complaining. The good news about dear old Dad coming over is that he's moving out of a crumby time in his life to try something new. Specifically he dumped the crack-ho girlfriend! Almost more than my birthday this kick-to-the-curb deserves a celebration!!!

I have neglected my brand new blog for a week. At it's young age I hope I haven't damaged it. So I've got a few things to talk about that I'll break this up into a few different posts to make more sense.