Convenience Store Hotdog Healthcare Part One

Food. Food is good. I like food. If you look at me, you can probably tell that right away.

I also like being in pretty decent health. The two aren’t mutually exclusive, as one might think. I’ll admit, I have a vice and there are detriments to my health from enjoying that vice. However, my health is usually pretty good to the point that I am seeing a doctor maybe once a year.

Now, when I do need to see the doctor, I have my choice. I can either see my PCP or go to an urgent care facility. People will swear up one side and down the other that urgent care is like going to Dr. Nick in Springfield. I am here to tell you that it’s not a given that places like MedExpress will be a bad option when it comes to care. It’s simply an option. In terms of the quality of care, I will use food as an analogy. Politicians may want to call it broccoli, for whatever reason, but my analogy is more aligned with where you get the food.

Let’s say you want to get a hotdog. Hotdogs are good, but it’s best that you don’t know what’s exactly in them from an ingredients standpoint. Relating that to a medical situation, the hotdog is an illness or ailment where you don’t exactly know what’s wrong with you. It’s not like a cold where you know what’s wrong with you.  You need some diagnosis beyond what you can see or feel.

Just like getting a hotdog, you have a few options. You can go to a ball park and pay a lot for an authentic hotdog. We’ll call that a hospital hotdog. You can go to the grocery store and buy a pack of hotdogs for much cheaper and somewhat relative quality to the ballpark. We’ll call that a family doctor dog. Or, you can go down to the local convenience store / gas station and get a dog from the counter which is on those heat rollers. We’ll call that the urgent care dog. Price may vary.

You can go to a ballpark to get a hotdog, which is awesome, but you’ll spend a lot of money to get that kind of quality. You’ll also be there for awhile. There are a lot of other people that you have to sort of "queue up" with to get that hotdog. The game could go into extra innings or overtime, keeping you there longer but that hotdog is pretty darn good.

You can go to the grocery store and get a pack of hotdogs. You know the quality is probably pretty decent but the ambiance is lessened. You take the hotdogs home and finish them but they’re pretty much cooked already. You still want to follow the directions on the packaging. You may have to fight through the crowds on a Sunday during football season or right around a summer holiday, but you can expect to pay a small amount and go home with a pretty good dog.

Now, the convenience store dog has been in that hot box on a roller for who knows how long. It’s probably not exactly the best quality of hotdog and when you add cheese or chili you’ve probably brought the quality down considerably. That hotdog is unknown territory and you could find yourself worse off after you’ve eaten it. The price is based on convenience. The same amount for a pack of dogs at the grocery store gets you two, cooked dogs, at the convenience store but do you really trust them in messing around in your digestive system?

Now, if I was going to the convenience store to get a bottle of Coke out of the case or a bag of Doritos, no problem. As long as the dates are good, should be OK. Candy Bar? Sure. I’m pretty secure in the fact that the food I will consume will be OK. Yeah, I’m going to pay a bit more than at a grocery store, but I got right in, got my snack, and am on my way.

The same goes for what my wife experienced over the last week.

She noticed that she felt like she had a bladder infection. Normal symptoms were all there. Figured she could hold off to see her doctor after the weekend. By Sunday, she was in pretty bad shape. I came inside to find her sitting on the couch, wrapped in blankets and a hoodie, shivering. This was beyond just a simple infection.

I took her to MedExpress, which I trusted, and they confirmed she had an infection, but the fever, chills, and rigors were speaking more towards a blood infection. One of her friends went through this and ended up in the hospital in a coma with a brain infection that made her act belligerent and out of character. It all started with a kidney infection. So, they did a urine test and even listened to her lungs. They came back and said she needed to go to the ER, right away and get IV antibiotics. That’s a 2-3 day treatment and with a five year old involved, it messes up our scheduling. I have to take off from work, she has to take off from work, we need to figure out what to do with the kid who goes to Kindercare two days during the week. Pretty messed up situation.

So, she opted to go against medical advice, they gave her an antibiotic shot in the ass and a script for Cipro and we were on our way. Monday evening, she wasn’t any better. Still had a fever, chills, and rigors. We took my kid to my Father-in-law’s and went to the ER at Westmoreland Hospital.

Now, first off, the parking at their ER is ridiculous. It’s an Emergency Room and all of the parking spaces are either, 15 minute parking, handicapped parking, or Ambulance parking. You sit for 20 minutes alone, waiting for them to even get to you. So, I parked across the street after dropping her off at the door. Luckily, she was able to do fine on her own from there. They got her registered and triaged her. By 9:15PM, they had an IV run with another antibiotic, blood draws, and a sample of urine.

By 10PM we made a decision that if they planned to keep her all night, I would work from home on Tuesday, then take the kid to my parents for the night, after being at Kindercare. I would go to work on Wed and then pick up her up and do the same for Thursday and Friday. If they planned to release her, I would simply take the kid and go pick up my wife.

The doctor came in and examined my wife. Did all the same steps MedExpress did but after examining her, sent her for a chest X-Ray. This was something MedExpress didn’t do. I went and picked up the kiddo from her Pappy’s, and we kind of had a stay up and play session while we waited for the news.

So, what do you think the prognosis was? I’ll give you a hint. The X-Ray is the key.



Stay Tuned.

Travellers Tales 2012: Round Up

Another vacation has come and gone. We got lost in the mountains of West Virginia, we set the grill on fire, we had the police show up, we drove through the ocean, we met Legally Blind Luke, we laughed hard, we ate good, we enjoyed company, and we said our goodbyes. It seemed this year went by faster than the rest. In the end, we all hated to leave, but were glad to be home.

Well, not without one last assassination attempt from Siri, formerly known as Matilda. This time, we decided to just follow our directions in reverse and skip the GPS. However, when we got to Route 17 in Virginia, Siri also told us to get off of 95. We couldn’t believe it. Siri didn’t want us to go towards the beltway in DC?

Since we hadn’t gone this way before, I decided to get gas as soon as we jumped off the interstate. When I returned to driving, Siri told me to head back to 95. This GPS that had just told me to get off 95 and onto 17 was now telling me to go back the way I just came and get back on 95. Well, after thinking I was wrong and doing a turnabout at a light and heading back towards 95, I said, “Shut up, Siri.” I then turned around and we went on our way. That was the last we dealt with Siri on this trip.

In closing, I want to offer up a few tips we learned this year. Nothing huge, but if you are planning to go to the OBX and want to know how to avoid the pitfalls, here’s what I can tell you.

• Depending on your ice and cooler situation, I highly suggest hitting the Food Lion right after the bridge on 158. It’s less crowded and you’ll save time on getting to your final destination.
• Make friends with the local police and fire department.
• If you’re staying in the 4x4 section, pay close attention to the tide chart. Make sure you know when high tide is coming if you decide to take an extended leave from your house.
• Not all shuffling people at the shoreline are zombies.
• There is a fine for having stuff like chairs, sand toys, sand structures sitting in the way of traffic on the beach and it’s a $50 fine per item.
• Only use your GPS if you get lost.
• Wear loose pants when heading to Captain George’s buffet.
• Don’t forget sunscreen.

Damn Parents

We don’t cook a lot. I can count, on one hand, how many consecutive days we’ve eaten dinner at home and still have enough fingers left over to tell how I feel about the little punk in this story I am about to tell.

So, as I said, we tend to go out. We have regular haunts. On Wednesday’s we usually go for wings at Zackel’s in Claridge. We like Pasqaulino’s in Irwin. And at least once a week we go to Johnny’s Wife’s Place II in Harrison City for pizza. Last night was pizza night.

We’re pretty much well known in the restaurants we frequent and have a good relationship with the staff. Last night was no exception as the poor server at JWPII was all on her own dealing with some large parties in the dining room. One of those large parties had a lot of young kids, say between five and ten years old.

Now, I will be the first to admit my kid can be a handful. She has her moments when she cannot be corralled but we do our best to rein her in and apologize when needed. However, this group we saw last night was very lax when it came to policing their kids. At one point, the most hellish of fiends wandered around, getting under foot and eyed up the ice bin. I could just tell what was going to happen next. As a parent, you get this sort of precognitive vibe when a kid is going to act ornery. You can see the child standing in a room and know exactly what kind of trouble they are about to get into given the various outlets for mischief that are available. In this instance, I knew he was headed for the ice bin, right under the drink station.

Demon spawn walked right over to the bin, and reached his big ole snotty paw into the bin, grabbing the ice scoop. Pulled it out and grabbed a chunk of ice with the other snot paw. He wandered over towards his table where the adults were oblivious to his actions. He put the ice in his mouth and then he was noticed by parental units who asked where he got his new toy. He pointed and they mouthed something and he wandered back. At this point, I knew, KNEW, what was going to happen next.

You guessed it. Ice scoop and slobbery chunk of ice went back into the ice bin. A barrage of “NOs” was coming from our table as both my wife and I began yelling to the kid not to do it. The only thing that stopped me from physically going over there was that it wasn’t my kid and the last thing I wanted was some adult looking at me like I’m Jerry Sandusky.

So, we grabbed our overworked server and explained what happened. She closed the ice bin and brought out a huge bucket of fresh ice for glasses.

But it didn’t end there. The demon spawn also wandered over and began banging on the POS screen for the food and drink orders. At this point I looked at him and said, “HEY! Hell no, man. Get!”

Meanwhile, parents and other adults at the raucous table were oblivious to the actions of the little bastard and I yelled out, “Why am I policing other people’s kids?”

Eventually, the party made plans to leave and I could tell that the mother was just looking to get the kids home and into bed before she sat down with her glass of wine and Ambien. I could tell this group was Penn Township’s pretentious elite. The, “I don’t police my kids because they’re angels and it interrupts my free time to give a damn!”

Had my kid pulled a stunt like this it would have been a huge ordeal. First of all, she would never have made it to the ice bin. Also, had she eluded the radar and made it into hostile territory and came back with the ice scoop we would have grabbed it and her and marched back to the wait staff to tell them what happened. Then she would have apologized to them and I would have offered to help fix the situation.

Cleaning out an ice bin is not fun. I’ve done it. And not even just the small ones on a rollaway bar. I’m talking the big ice machines in the kitchens of establishments. I’ve had to clean them out, completely. It’s a big undertaking when you don’t already have 14 other jobs to do.

Needless to say, we were angry and it didn’t even technically affect us.

Police your damn kids!

The Hungry Games

I’m fat. I know this. I do not have any delusions that I am who I am. I’m not trying to strut around in tight clothes unaware of the fact that I look like a sausage in casing. I have had a battle with weight most of my life and will probably continue to do so until I am either dead or diabetic. That doesn’t mean I have not tried to lose weight. I am pretty good at losing a few pounds here and there. Usually, I end up putting some back on but I wouldn’t consider myself in need of a Maury intervention and a crew to come cut me out of my house.

That being said, I scoff at the notion that there are people out there who are so obsessed with losing weight in order to fit into a bridal dress that they would voluntarily opt to have a nasal gastric feeding tube inserted instead of losing weight naturally.  The new fad costs around $1500 and allows the “patient” to get all the nutrition they need from their feeding tube under a doctor’s supervision.

Are people that nuts?

Feeding tubes are not sexy. They are not trendy. They are not a diet fad. They are a method for keeping people fed who cannot, or will not, ingest food any other way.

A friend of mine’s father just went into hospice for the end stages of intestinal cancer. He opted to remove his feeding tube and has decided to stop treatment. He is reconciling his fate. He did not have the luxury of using the feeding tube to lose weight. He had it because it was keeping him nourished because he couldn’t eat like everyone else. I’m sure he’d be willing to trade places with these self conscious, pretentious brides, and go out for a steak dinner, instead of sitting there waiting for his body to starve itself while hopped up on morphine.

I bet Terry Schiavo would have rather been out looking for a new dress instead of being trapped in a coma with a feeding tube while these idiots are running around counting the pounds they are losing thanks to this fad. 

Look, if you can't fit into your bridal dress, then you got the wrong size.  Plain and simple.   If you put on a few pounds due to stress or tasting all of the cookies and food for the reception, then you probably should go get on the treadmill.  This insanity where people don't actually have to do any of the work in order to lose the weight is the main problem we have.  Everybody's lazy.  I know I could lose 20 pounds just by changing my eating habits.  I'VE DONE IT.  If I wanted to lose more, I could do some more exercise, too.   But in order to get something out of it, you need to put some effort into it.  These idiots are cheating just to achieve a certain look for one day.  They are mocking the people who don't have that luxury; the ones who are stricken with disease or injury that cannot voluntarily choose to have or remove the feeding tube without suffering the consequences.

But hey, it’s a free country and people have every right to be assholes… just like me with my Twinkies.

BTW, tonight I’m going for a bacon cheese burger, cup of tortilla soup, and a warm chocolate cookie at Max & Erma’s. The only tube I’ll be using is the straw for my Diet Coke. Suck on that bridezillas.

Lies I believed in Childhood

As a kid, we take the word of adults or at least those in our family as gospel.   We never question their credibility because we haven’t learned that people lie to us for whatever reason.  Sometimes, we formulate our own truths and those authority figures around us never correct the notion because the fact that we believe it makes it seem cute and adorable.  Meanwhile, we lie in bed, awake, worrying about the consequences of those actions that we believed to be set in stone.

Lie #1: Crossing your eyes for an extended period of time will cause them to stay that way.

I believed this myth well into my teens. But being of a rebellious nature, I always tried to push the limits of that timeframe

Lie #2: A swallowed piece of gum will stay in your system for seven years.

Growing up, I enjoyed stuffing almost an entire pouch of Big League Chew into my mouth but never had the need or urge to swallow it. However, when it came to smaller pieces such as Big Red or Juicy Fruit, sometimes you accidentally could swallow a piece and then dread set in, “I just swallowed my gum! It’s going to be in my stomach for seven years. CRAP!” Of course, the truth is that is does digest much, much quicker than that. It may be a week but it won’t be seven years.

Lie #3: If I eat watermelon, orange, or apple seeds a tree will grow in my stomach.

Apparently, at the age of seven, I had not learned the basics of horticulture. After ingesting a few orange seeds, I was pretty sure that I had a the beginnings of an orange tree growing in my tummy. I imagined the tree growing inside me, like an alien, and it would eventually burst a branch full of oranges out of my navel. I had no concept of the makeup of the digestive system containing acids or the fact that there was no light or soil for those seeds to grow in while it churned away in my stomach. Nor did I realize that it if not already dissolved, I would pass the seed naturally before it could germinate.

Now, the ingestion myths did not hold up as long as the eye crossing one, but to this day I’m still convinced that I shouldn’t swim after eating.  Worse yet, I still need to remind my father-in-law that going outside without a coat will not cause you to get a cold.  He continually tells his daughter, my wife, “It’s no wonder you’re sick.  Put on a damn coat!”  To which I say, “We have a four year old in Kindercare.  That’s why we’re sick all the time.”

 
Still, the worst lie my family had me believe was that I was the mailman's kid.   I'm sure they were joking but you kind of get a complex when they keep repeating it like they did, year after year.

Maury, can I get a reading on this one?

Vegas Baby: Part 3 - What Happens In Vegas Stays in the Colon

Whenever you mention Vegas to someone, the first thought in their head is gambling. Usually, the second or third thought is the food, more specifically, the buffets. As I lead you by the brain and tasted buds through the Vegas experience, remember, I only stayed in the Strip. I did not venture downtown.

I can tell you, right now, the notion that you can gamble big and eat big on little money is long gone. There are plenty of places to dine inside the Mirage and I took advantage of three of them. Of course, there is a Starbucks. I’m sure there is one in most every Casino in Vegas. There is also the standard buffet, called Cravings. There is a frozen yogurt place, which was neat. They have B.B King’s Blues Club for some great pork and music. There is also a Carnegie’s Deli, like the one in New York. And finally, we sampled some of the room service provided by the Mirage.

On our first night, we checked into the hotel and went down to B.B. King’s, We had already missed the buffet which closed. The Blues Club was shrouded in darkness and looked much like a Ruby Tuesday’s or other chain restaurant. The difference is the wall art which is mostly Rhythm and Blues giants like Muddy Waters or Clapton. Looking over the menu, we both got BBQ pulled pork. I went the sandwich route, while my wife went with the full meal. Food was excellent.

After eating we were treated to a live performance by a band called PJ Barth. I was unfamiliar with the band and the lead singer/guitarist was this skinny little white dude who looked like a kid who dressed up as Stevie Ray Vaughn for Halloween. He was accompanied by a bassist and drummer and that was all he needed. Here’s a video of him doing an awesome cover of Jimi Hendrix’s Little Wing


The next morning… well around 10 or 11 am, we went to eat lunch at The Carnegie Deli. Now, I’ve never been there but I hear Bowser from Sha Na Na and Arthur Fonzarelli eat there together.
Looking over the menu I can tell you one thing, they like their tongue. Every other item on the menu had tongue in it. We stayed away from that and went for a club sandwich, which we shared. Why? It was about a foot tall. They must have used a pound of turkey and a pound of bacon. I ended up making three sandwiches out of it. But it was yummy.

That night we went to the buffet, geared up for some great eating. I was thoroughly unimpressed with Cravings. It had a sort of Art Deco cafeteria look to it. The offerings were a bit meager. The crab legs were split down the middle. That must be a Vegas thing because the Bellagio was the same way. I’ve never seen crab legs done like that. You’d think it would be easier to eat them that way but it was not. Whatever those things, that run down the middle of a crab leg, are called they held onto the meat with a deathlike grip.

We should have started with dessert because that was the best part of it. Everything else was a bit off and the choices were a bit weird. For what it cost to eat there, $30 bucks a piece, I tried to make up for it with desserts and crab legs.

The next day, our last full day, we tried room service for breakfast. We both ordered a triple breakfast combo consisting of waffles, pancakes, and French toast. Now before you say, “Ooh, have another, fatty” realize that for the total cost of $22.00 each, we got a single plate with three silver dollar pancakes, an equally sized waffle which looked to be ripped from the other three mini waffles in an Eggo pack, and a block of French toast the size of a pack of cigarettes. All of this was drizzled over by fruit compote. That was room service. While it was pretty good tasting, the idea that, for $40.00, I can take my wife, kid, and father-in-law to Cheddar’s in Wheeling and have a Monte Cristo, a burger, a shrimp platter, a grilled cheese, two sodas, a chocolate milk, and two draft beers makes me a bit queasy.

That afternoon we had the Blizz frozen yogurt snack, which was nice. You grab a cup, fill it with various flavors, add toppings and spend like $0.50 an ounce. It was pretty good for getting frozen yogurt. I think it ended up being like $12 all said and done.

However, that night I was bound and determined to eat a good buffet dinner in Vegas. We walked from the Mirage down to the Bellagio so I could see the fountains. We decided to eat there with a little apprehension at dropping another $60.00 for crap food.

Mission accomplished. The buffet was much, much better, though they do their crab legs the same way. But I found what I really liked which was the four or five different pasta dishes that were just phenomenal. I was ready for a nap after that.

After all of that eating I realized we spent a hell of a lot of money, just on food. In fact, we spent more money on food that we did on gambling. Hey, why not? At least I get something for my money with the food. I can’t enjoy losing $120 on slots and blackjack, but I’ll have this fat forever.

And for all that, I’ve come to the conclusion that the Vegas of old, with the cheap prime rib buffets and free drinks, is either a myth or was ruined by something else. Everything there costs money. Now, had I dropped a grand in the casino, they might have comped me a meal or two but you’re basically spending that money anyways. Hell, a 32 oz. Diet Coke, by the pool was $8.00. WTF!?!?

Although, directly across the street from the Mirage was both a Denny’s and a McDonald’s. But that would have been wrong. That’s like going to China and eating at a Manchu Wok or going to Manhattan and getting pizza at a Sbarro. You just don’t do that shit.

Next up, gambling and the Vegas experience.

Listen to Your Parents When It Comes To Food.

Long, long ago in a Foodland far, far away my Mother stood at the deli counter picking up lunch meat. I was a young lad, not yet possessing a discerning palate. I immediately saw something I deemed to be good and told my mom that, “I want it.” At such a young age; outside of pizza, ice cream and PB&J I had very little experience in the culinary specialties available to the general public. Still, I was convinced that what I wanted was going to be the most incredible, tastiest treat I’d ever had.

It was deviled crab. I hated it. It went into the freezer and died a slow death over the next few months.

From that experience, I realized that perhaps my parents possessed a worldly wisdom that trumped any genius from Harvard or MIT. When it came to knowing what I would and wouldn’t like, they were Einstein, Freud, and Watson (The Computer) all rolled into one.

As a parent, myself, I am constantly thrust into the middle of the battle of the, “I want” syndrome that all children experience. They see something, they want it, they don’t understand that we know they won’t like it and we ultimately give it to them to save our own sanity. Three minutes later, they want something else and whatever it was that you just gave them might as well be a big steaming pile of crap.

Case in point. Often, when I pick up my child from preschool, I reward good behavior with a small shake from McDonald’s. They last month or two, whenever we go, my daughter sees ads for the Mango Pineapple Smoothie and immediately wants them. I tell her no and she continually asks for that instead of a chocolate shake.

I know. I should be happy that she wants something that isn’t as bad for her but I know that she will not like Mango. She’s never tasted Mango. She doesn’t even like applesauce. So, why waste three dollars on something she will not like and then have to endure the deluge of the, “Can I have a shake, now, instead?” requests after she realizes what I already know?

McDonald’s made it easier, this week, by offering the smoothies for a quarter. Finally, I can prove my point to a four year old. Believe me, these arguments are epic in nature and usually persist into hour long sessions based around one word.

“Why?”

We rolled into the drive through and I bought two. I figured, “Why not? It’s only a quarter.” I pulled into a parking space and gave her the usual talk about holding it right and not making a mess. She started drinking it as I got my straw unwrapped.

“How is it?” I asked.

“Good.” She said.

“So, you like it?”

“Yeah.”

I took a sip of the smoothie and immediately winced. Under my breath I uttered, “Oh my God, that’s horrible.” I can see why it’s only a quarter. I tried not to say it too loud because my kid was still sipping away in the backseat.

By now, I knew she had to have been lying. When we got home she asked me to put it into the freezer. That’s how I knew. Still, I gave her credit because she realized I was right but wasn’t about to give me the satisfaction of knowing it.

Somewhere, a half eaten deviled crab is laughing.

I'll Never Cook Again

This declaration was made after my daughter’s birthday party this past weekend.

It’s not that I cook, now. I know. And even if I did I could hear the naysayers… saying nay…

- nay saying…

- naying?

- bitching at me and my wife for not cooking four only child’s birthday. Well, nay away. Here’s why it was a blessing to not have to cook.

For the past three years we have been having cookouts for my kid’s birthday. It’s the day after Independence Day which usually means it doubles as the official holiday cookout or gets moved to a nearby weekend to avoid the work week. Usually, we do the usual grilling fare, and I spend four hours grilling up food as well as taking care of things like wayward children, filling up coolers, etc. Normally, my wife and I do not get to enjoy the party.

This year was especially daunting as we tried to offset the scheduling conflicts of family and friends by moving it to the week after the fourth. That gave us extra time to clean, shop, etc. Still, we both looked at each other and wanted to cry.

We’ve been having issues with our pool. It’s one of those Intex brands one that I inherited from my brother. He bought a new pool and I got that one. The pump/filter that comes with it couldn’t cycle a 50 gallon fish tank properly. The pump barely sucks enough water to get a flow going and the paper filter cartridge suffers from poor design issues as it never fits right, leading to the pump not working properly. So, I had been in the market for a better pump since last year.

One of my old teachers from high school happened to have a Hayward DE pump and filter. It was a couple years old and hadn’t been used for a year. I bought it for $200 along with various parts and fittings over Memorial Day. With a vacation at the beginning of June we didn’t get it set up until the middle of the month. Now, I must say that because I’m an idiot and didn’t have a proper cover, the pool remained exposed to the elements all fall and winter resulting in lots of leaves, bugs and dirt residing in it.

Trying to clean a 16 ft. pool with even a more powerful than needed pump/filter is going to be hard. If I would have just resigned myself to draining and refilling the pool, I would have saved myself two weekends of screwing around with trying to keep the pump working.

Needless to say, I finally got it up and running, properly, on the Fourth of July weekend. That left me with a week to get everything else done. That meant yard needed cut, house needed cleaned and food needed to be bought. It was just too much for us to handle.

My wife made the executive decision at the beginning of the month to just get the party catered. Is that lazy of us? I say no. Is that frivolous of us to spend the money? I say no. Here’s why.

In the scheme of things we would have ended up paying the same amount for all of the food and then cooking it ourselves. Because we were cooking it, we would have lost time that we so desperately needed to run around and pick up supplies, the cake, the balloons, and anything else needed. We’d also find ourselves taking longer to eat as you can only prepare so much food ahead of time, leading to later meal times and less time for enjoying the other stuff.

We went with a local place called Skis and Nick’s. I’ve had their food before and it’s pretty good. We ordered one of their predefined menus which included batter dipped chicken, penne noodles and sauce, a potato, a vegetable, a deli tray, a garden salad, a fruit salad, rolls, buns, and relish tray. At $9.25 + tax, per person it might sound like a lot. However, we also got all of the napkins, plates, utensils, condiments and carryout containers to go with it. Not to mention, they included the use of a hot box to keep the hot items hot. Now, all I had to do was go pick it all up, uncover it and serve.

By the way, the food was delicious. We had leftovers which was great because we were dead tired yesterday and didn’t want to have to worry about dinner. And, we got to visit, eat and enjoy the party, for once. Like I said, we’ll never cook again for parties.

Smoke On the Water

Dare County, North Carolina has been suffering through a wild fire that has affected the coastal areas of the Outer Banks as well.  Officials say they have the blaze around 75% contained but heavy smoke and the smell of burning wood is evident in places like Kitty Hawk and Kill Devil Hills.

Stumpy Point, NC is about 30 miles from Nags Head, NC, across the Croatan Sound, but the winds can shift causing the smoke to envelope the Wright Brothers' Memorial in a thick and ashy cloud of haze.  

A server at Captain George's Restaurant said that the winds shift often leaving the skies clear and then they can cloud back up again at the drop of a hat.

Being in the 4x4 section has saved us from the smoke and respiratory issues facing some of the vacationers in the Southern Shores and Nags Head area.  That would pretty much suck to come all this way and have it be smokey. 

I'll be back with more tales of the beach including what it takes to go into the 4x4 section.  It's really been fun.

The Lesser Man Project: Week 5

Week five puts me at my first major milestone for this experiment. 10 pounds lost. That’s an average of 2 pounds a week and I’ve barely done any real work other than cutting back to a cup of cereal every morning, eating smaller portions of lunch and dinner and limiting those pesky snacks to almost nothing.

Nothing major to report other than I am heading into rough waters as I get closer to the end of the month. Thanksgiving was easy compared to the thought of being off work for the last two weeks of the month. Being home for an extended amount of time is dangerous to someone trying to lose weight. Food is at the ready and boredom tends to lead to phantom hunger pains. Fortunately, I have a wife who loves to make lists. She’ll keep me busy, I’m sure.

In case you have been keeping score with that sliding scale on the side bar. I tried out a free countdown graph but my math skills are rusty. I’ve been flubbing the percentages for a few weeks now, so if anyone can verify to me that 12.5% of 80lbs would be 10lbs, I’d appreciate it. It would be nice if I could just enter in attributes like lost pounds and have it show up correctly. Maybe I’ll tweak the coding a bit to see if I can get it looking the way I want it to.



Take care all.

The Lesser Man Project: Week 3-4

This is just a quick update about this week and last week’s progress. With the holiday falling near the middle of the week I was swamped with other work in preparation for being off for a few days and had to miss posting. Apologies to all of you who are hanging on my every word concerning my quest to lose weight. Sarcasm is intended there.

This is going to be the toughest part of the experiment. We are heading into the winter which means lessened outdoor activity, unless you count putting up Christmas lights which should be considered an Olympic Sport at my house. It also means that we are heading full force into the holidays which means lots of bad influences like carbs from Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, cookies and leftover Halloween candy, and Egg Nog. Egg Nog, alone, could negate any progress I’ve made over the last couple of weeks.

I will say it has become so much easier to pass up the snacks. Because we are heading into December, people are bringing more and more goodies to work. I’ve passed up a few things but I hate to insult someone by not accepting their offer of food. One of my biggest problems is that I am, like my namesake, Mikey from the LIFE cereal ads. When I first met my wife back in 1998 I went to dinner at her house and met her parents. They like to cook and they don’t skimp on portions. Whenever I would finish my plate they would continually say, “Have some more.” Soon, one serving of pasta became two large plates. Trust me, I like food and I like to eat but I have to begin turning down such hospitality if I plan on losing the extra weight I’ve gained in the last ten years. So, here’s the progress report.

Here’s the good news.
I did not gain any weight after the Thanksgiving weekend, in fact, as of today, I'm down an additional pound. My wife made her first Thanksgiving dinner with a 14 pound fresh turkey, sweet potato casserole, homemade stuffing, corn casserole, and Pillsbury iced cinnamon rolls. All in all, I had two helpings of stuffing, turkey, sweet potatoes and rolls and managed to come back to work on Monday with no extra weight. And, it’s not like I did a damn thing but veg out on the couch watching movies and playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare Free-For-All Deathmatch. That is a new addiction of mine and I really suck at it, which makes for a lot of frustration and continual attempts to get better. Let’s just say that I cannot wait until I unlock the perk of dropping a grenade when I get killed because I die more from grenade drops than I do from anything else.

Here’s the bad news.
I might be reaching that first plateau. I was kind of hoping I could get back to my earlier weight of 255-265 before having to add additional steps. I can explain the additional 20 pounds very easily. My mother-in-law passed away in April and that’s when I started gaining the extra weight. It would be normal for us to eat at my in-laws, maybe three to four times a week. Sure, the extra portions are a problem but at least the food is home cooked and not full of bad stuff. Since April, we have been going out more and eating quicker, more carb heavy and fatty foods. While my wife is becoming an awesome cook, especially with that turkey that I am still eating sandwiches from for lunch, she teaches piano almost every afternoon into the evening and doesn’t have a lot of time to prepare a meal.

Next Steps
Hopefully, with the brief lull in festive eating, I can knock off a few more pounds the way I have been. Last night I caught myself, after work, wanting to break into the sweet rolls before they have to be pitched. Luckily, they looked kind of nasty and we pitched them. The apple on my way home from work is still enough to hold me until dinner. Although, after the New Year, I am sure I will have to ramp up my efforts. Don’t expect any resolutions from me because they are trap and a great way to fail. In fact, I advise any of you, looking to lose weight, to follow my example. Don’t make a New Year’s Resolution because you are betting against yourself. Resolutions tend to be unrealistic, pie in the sky goals. Instead just start taking those small steps that create results and stick to them.

Breakfasts for the last week
Weekdays – 1 cup Lucky Charms and skim milk
Holiday weekend – no breakfast or Pillsbury cinnamon roll

Lunches for the last week
Leftover turkey sandwich
Light Yogurt
Diet Pepsi

Snacks for the last week
Apple
Pumpkin pie with Cool Whip (Late at night – VERY BAD)

Dinners for last week
Thanksgiving dinner
Leftover Thanksgiving dinner
More Leftover Thanksgiving dinner
McDonald’s club sandwich meal with Diet Coke, small
Wendy’s Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger, small fry, small Diet Coke, no Frosty

The Lesser Man Project: Week 2

Here it is, week two. I topped out at six pounds by Saturday morning and I couldn’t believe that. I’ve seem to either reached a plateau or just negated the work I did because I’ve been hovering there since then.

I’m actually lucky to have not gained it all back this past weekend. It was a pretty bad one. It’s always hard to do the right thing when you don’t have the time to do it. Friday night, my father-in-law’s band played a set at the American Legion in Scottdale, PA. That meant rushing around to get things done in order to be there for an 8PM start. I was good for lunch, having a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with my usual light yogurt and Diet Pepsi. On the way home from work I had my usual snack, a gala apple. Then nothing else until dinner.

I was the designated driver so I had to drive us all there, including my father-in-law and his friend. We had one of my wife’s piano students watch our daughter for the evening which would last well past midnight. After picking up her dinner, a pizza from Fox’s, I found myself desperately craving a piece, but I was good. However, after dropping off my father-in-law and unloading the equipment, my wife and I headed to McDonald’s for a quick bite. It was nearby and would be quick. So, I made up for that craving. I wasn’t too bad. I had a small diet coke, small fry, and a grilled chicken sandwich. In fact, I only had one beer in the first hour and drank a couple of Diet Cokes the rest of the night.

Saturday was a different story. We needed a small but, quick lunch in order to get some stuff done. I opted for some breakfast sandwiches at Sheetz. Usually, I’ll get extra cheese on it, but as part of the new plan, did without. For dinner, one of my wife’s friends wanted to go out with us and suggested a place we’ve never been to. We drove everyone to Indiana, PA, to visit Fire Mountain. It’s a buffet like Ponderosa or Old Country Buffet. It wasn’t bad. They had carving stations and salads and desserts. Figures, I’m trying to change the way I eat and we go to an all you can eat buffet. I had a piece of chicken, not breaded, some regular salad and seafood salad, breaded shrimp and a couple of other items. For dessert I had a scoop of cookies and cream ice cream and a small piece of chocolate cake. I could have been much worse, believe me.

Sunday, we had a late dinner that was more snack-like in nature. The Steelers played New England on Sunday night… and lost. We decided to have taco dip, Tostino’s Pizza Rolls, and a plate of cheese and crackers. I couldn’t help but have a two servings of the taco dip and pizza rolls. It’s amazing how good bad food can taste when you are cutting back. And I mean “bad” as in “bad for you.”

Monday, I had the leftover pizza from Friday night. Two pieces of pizza never tasted so good but since I’m used to eating four or maybe five, it was a short lived decadence. You know the rest of my lunch, yogurt and diet pop, and an apple for the ride home. That night was another night out.

I never really looked at how bad we’ve eaten until I started documenting it. I mean, we eat out a lot. I can count on one hand the times I’ve eaten dinner at home in a week. I’d still be able to give you a Boy Scout salute along with that. There’s no excuse other than we don’t cook a lot and with my wife teaching lessons until almost 7pm there isn’t a lot of desire to do it afterwards. I’m going to start looking into some crock pot stuff that I can do.

Monday would have also been my mother-in-law’s birthday. We would normally have eaten in on a Monday, but seeing as how we would have definitely taken her out to dinner we decided to continue that tradition. Persichetti’s in Jeannette was one of her favorite places but they are closed on Monday’s. Our normal Tuesday night stop is Zackel’s in Claridge so we opted for that Monday and Persichetti’s on Tuesday. In honor of my late mother-in-law, I had a Reuben. It was pretty good and light on the Thousand Island dressing. I had about four or five fries from my daughter’s plate and my diet drink.

Tuesday’s lunch consisted of my wife’s leftover Italian sub, which was half of a half with no dressing. The usual additions were present, light yogurt, Diet Pepsi and gala apple. At Persichetti’s that night, I had a house salad with house vinaigrette, a small piece of bread with butter and a turkey club. Normally, I would ask for extra Miracle Whip, but didn’t. It came with a small soufflé cup full and that was it. I also had a half of a piece of garlic toast at my wife’s insistence.

Today should an overload as I will be eating my wife’s left over spaghetti. She had the sampler, last night, which consisted of a piece of small portions of lasagna, gnocchi and spaghetti. She left half of the spaghetti and lasagna and I’m making that into two days worth of lunch. Today, the spaghetti and tomorrow, the lasagna.

Along with the observation about how bad I’ve been with eating out, here is what I’ve also noticed.

• Cereal is lasting me a lot longer but milk is going out of date before I can drink it.
• I’m not as hungry as I used to be. There are moments I feel really hungry before dinner but they are almost forgettable.
• I found a particular pair of pants that I stopped wearing because I assumed they wouldn’t fit. They are smaller in the waist than my normal ones and they don’t have any give, whatsoever. They fit now. They may have always fit, but they fit better than I thought they would and they were falling down, too.
• I’m having to throw a lot of food because I’m not eating it. Leftovers are taking forever to get rid of and I’m stretching them into one or two days worth of lunch.
• I feel satisfied and not hungry, even after a little bit of food.
• Food that I haven’t been eating taste really good, especially the stuff I shouldn’t be eating.
• I’m enjoying food more, mostly because I’m not feeling overfull after a meal. There were times I almost dreaded eating, because of how I would feel afterwards, but that’s not the case, now.

You can do this, too. I’m not a nutritionist or a doctor, so you have to figure out what is best for you.  I would also consult one of those people before you go crazy.  But these kinds of changes are small and aren’t really impacting your diet as much. I’m just thinking logically about how to approach this experiment. I’m cutting back on the amount of food, not the quality. I am recognizing where I need to have the give and take.

I’ll eventually plateau and have to take new steps to lose more weight, but I’m not suffering and I’m getting some desired results. This wasn’t hard to do. It was actually very easy. I know that for a lot of people out there, being overweight and actually doing something about losing it is hard, for whatever reason. Remember, I’m doing this with the intent of not making any drastic changes and not starving myself or becoming some fitness nut or health guru.

I could easily go home, grab a bowl of candy and go to town. It would be nothing for me to stop and get a pack of Klondike bars or something else that could derail my progress. You just have to get your mind in the direction you want to go and the body WILL follow. Start small, be realistic and just keep at it. Don’t be afraid to treat yourself for doing a good job but remember that the treat should still fall in line with the style of plan you are doing. For me, it might be dessert at a restaurant but share it or take some to go. You don’t have to give up on something good like Tiramisu, which I love, but perhaps just a little bit is enough to satisfy whatever urge you might have and still not be a detriment to your progress.

The mind first, then the body. That is what is important. If you cannot get your mind to accept that there needs to be a change, you will never stick to a plan. You cannot trick yourself, you cannot cheat yourself and you cannot beat something you don’t believe in beating.

Keep going. It will work.

The Lesser Man Project: Week 1

If you notice in the corner of the page, there is now a bar showing the progress I’ve made in my quest to become half the man I used to be… or am… still… whatever, it was a STP reference, deal with it. As of now, I’ve lost about two pounds and I just started last week, so that’s steady enough of a pace at the moment. After a few pounds, I’ll begin stepping up some activity. For now, my knees are the biggest reason for not going nuts with the exercising. I’ll explain in a bit. For now, here’s what I’ve done so far to help the process.

As I said, before, I’m not going crazy with exercise or counting calories or looking at labels and bargaining with the food Gods to allow me one Reese’s Cup, still sitting among the hundreds, left over from Halloween. Damn kids. They aren’t even trying anymore. While I’m not going to punish and starve myself, I’m simply moderating my intake. I cut down my breakfast to just a cup of cereal. This week, and probably the next few weeks, the choice for breakfast is LIFE. In the past, I was used to just pouring a bowl full and going to town. Now, I put in about a cup full and lightly douse with milk. I’ve been drinking skim milk now for about 17 years, so there’s not much more I can do there.

My lunches have gotten a little smaller, though I still take stuff like leftover Mac & Cheese or whatever we have had the night before. This week I had left over Velveeta Shells, twice, and Lo Mein, once. The portions are smaller than I am used to and the biggest change I’ve noticed is my alertness. I used to get real sleepy and unfocussed after lunch and lately, I’ve felt fine. I still accompany those dishes with a light yogurt and a Diet Pepsi. For the ride home, it’s a Gala apple.

I’ve cut out the afternoon snack. By the time I was getting home I was still hungry, even after my apple. Usually, I would get home and grab a glass of NesQuik made with 2% milk or a few handfuls of raisins/peanuts/choc. chips. Now, I skip the afternoon snack and I haven’t noticed a sense of hunger. I’m fine all the way until dinner.

Dinner is still my worst meal, but I’ve been cutting back on what I usually get. Yesterday, we went to Zackel’s in Claridge. I’m used to getting half of an Italian hoagie and onion rings. I switched to a chipotle BBQ grilled chicken wrap and no onion rings. I did munch on about five or six french fries from my daughter’s plate. She doesn’t eat them.

The worst part about my job is that I sit for eight hours. I drink around three cups of coffee, which is down from the six I used to drink last year. I only use three Splenda packets and a bit of the powdered Coffee Mate creamer which is only 0.5 grams of fat and 10 calories. However, the biggest change I’ve made involves the “Cake in the break room” snacks. I’ve been skipping those, although I had a handful of homemade chips and salsa today. I couldn’t resist. It comes from a group called Elegant Tents and they are awesome!

I still drink about eight cups of water a day or four bottles, I guess. Another change was the giving up of what little alcohol I drink. OK, I’m comfortable enough in my manliness to admit that I drink a wine cooler. Bartles & Jaymes makes a Strawberry Daiquiri that is pretty damn good and I will drink one, maybe three nights a week while my father-in-law are playing Call of Duty or any number of Cabela’s games. Well, those are definitely not good for you, so I stopped. Yes, I’ve taken off the skirt. Bite me.

This past weekend, I got out in the yard and worked on the leaves. That was the extent of the exercise. I used the mower/mulcher until the bag zipper broke and then switched to two different leaf blower/vacs. Several trips down over the hill to my compost pile, my knee was feeling it. I think I’m about to the point where there is no cartilage left in my knees because it always feels like my leg is just going to buckle. The extra 80 pounds cannot be helping that.

I remember, at my heaviest in college, I would get winded climbing the steps at Benedum Engineering Hall. If I recall, correctly, the amount of steps from Thackeray Avenue up to the entrances of the building was pretty good. After a few weeks of hiking those steps, my legs stopped hurting and I wasn’t so out of breath. Now, going up the stairs in my house is enough to get my knees hurting. That’s why I’m holding off on the real strenuous stuff until after I lose about ten pounds. I’ll still walk and do other stuff, but I’m not running on a treadmill until I lose some more weight.

That’s all I got this week. We’ll see how I’m doing next week. Hopefully that slider keeps going to the right.

You Can Never Have Too Many Cooks In The Kitchen

There’s an old saying about too many cooks spoiling the broth. It can also be worded as having too many Chiefs and not enough Indians. Of course, I have no idea how you can connect Cleveland Major League Baseball to Kansas City professional football and relate that to cooking.

That was a joke…. Never mind.

Bad jokes aside, the idea that you need to have a small amount of management and an ample amount of direct reports is the idea behind those sayings. In other words, too many people in charge leads to discourse among how to best serve the project. But this isn’t about business, this is about actual food. This is about literally having too many cooks in the kitchen and I say, so be it. The more the merrier.

As my waistline will attest, I do have a small love of food, but will leave its preparation up to the experts. I am otherwise pretty useless in the kitchen. I am constantly reminded how I screwed up beans and weenies in a can. What did I know? I was trying to make it better. I was a bartender. We experiment, sometimes. [crickets] For the smallest part, I think my wife would just be happy if I remember to put stuff back in the fridge. Small steps, right?

But theOver the years, I have gotten better at it and on occasion I will even do some of the cooking. I’ll make French Toast, chili, grill dead animals and can make a pretty decent scrambled egg. However, in my life I have known many great cooks and I stand by the mantra that having too many cooks can never be a bad thing.

More than one cook can split up the workload. Just last night, my wife and father-in-law tackled kitchen prep inside while I manned the grill, outside. We had some leftovers from a birthday party cookout that consisted of a three beans and bacon dish, sausage stuffed banana peppers, hot dogs and hamburgers, which were reheated and pasta salad and fried green tomatoes, which were fresh. Now, as a grill warrior I am constantly working to improve how I can grill hot dogs, hamburgers, and steak and I have found that nothing bothers me more than having dried out burgers from putting them back on the grill. So, here’s a little tip for anyone who has left over hamburgers and wants to cook them up the next day.

There is an awesome spice made by McCormick called Grill Mates. I already love their Montreal Steak Seasoning one for…um steak. Whenever I get some steak for grilling, I use a combination of the Montreal Steak Seasoning and Meat Tenderizer before it gets on the grill and the add some black pepper once it’s close to being done. They also make a hamburger spice which is ‘effing awesome. But it also works if you are reheating burgers as well. Depending on the number of burgers you are using, grab a brownie or cake pan and add some beef broth, I use Swanson, and the Grill Mates Burger Spice. Put your burgers in and cover it with foil. Put it on the grill and just let it simmer. The burgers stay juicy and moist and the added flavor from the spice is kick ass. The beef broth idea came from my mom, another great cook.

So, while I’m standing outside watching meat cook, my father-in-law is inside slicing up green tomatoes, coating them with salt, pepper, and flour and frying them up. While he’s doing that, my wife is mixing up pasta salad and heating up the peppers and beans. Teamwork y’all. Yet, this was mostly food that was already made ahead of time. What about the food that needs to actually be cooked?

While I am primarily biased towards my own family’s cooking there were few things I would actually eat and didn’t leave my comfort zone all that much. For instance, before I met my wife I had hardly ever considered putting brown sugar into spaghetti sauce. I also did not eat chili before my father-in-law made me an addict. Now, I make it using his recipe and it is one of my favorites. Salad consisting of apples, raisins, walnuts and mayonnaise? No thank you… until I met my wife. Now, I could eat a whole bowl of Waldorf Salad, by myself.

Sadly, we are down one awesome cook this year. Dinner is bittersweet as my wife is beginning to learn how to cook all the dishes, her mother was so good at, in a trial by fire method. I will say that she’s nailed broccoli cheese soup. That was always something she had trouble getting her mother to make the way she liked it. Our gold standard was Ruby Tuesday’s but we don’t have one around here anymore. Holiday cooking will be equal doses of sweet and sour as that was always a favorite time of year for my mother-in-law’s cooking. Sure I had some of the best sweet potato casserole and stuffing at my family’s house for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve belonged to my wife’s family. Without the matriarch at the helm we will all have to figure out how to pull off some of the more excellent fare we’ve been used to.

To be fair to my wife, she had been taking on the duties of cooking for Halloween and New Year’s Eve ever since we moved into our home in 2004. But she always had an extra cook in the kitchen to help out and I know there will be times that she’ll unknowingly reach for the phone to call her mom. For her it was life and family. For me it was work. Her mom and I worked together and, up until last year, we’d email each other throughout the day about stuff. She had retired almost a year before she died and every day I’d relate some new tale of the office to her because she understood the culture. Like my wife reaching for the phone to ask for advice on how to make something in the kitchen I still have times where I wish I could email her or call her to tell he about the latest event. But we will move on, eventually, I guess.

Even though I am not one of the many cooks that should be in the kitchen, I still think we need to recognize that these holiday meals, that we loved so much, need to continue in her honor. I’d even be willing to learn how to cook some of them in order to keep up the tradition. I don’t think it’s an attempt to move on and forget someone who made a huge impact on our lives… and my gut. I think it’s a chance to honor that person’s memory by continuing what they did so well, if only as much as our expertise will allow. There will, of course, be some recipes and styles that will be lost because we didn’t take the time to get all the information before she passed. We had no idea it was going to happen. But we’ll experiment and test and try new things and along the way we may discover new ideas to pass on to our child and her eventual family. Well, I hope so. There’s just so many ways you can serve a slice of cheese and ketchup, which seems to be her favorite meal. Honestly, she doesn’t know what she’s missing, except the weight I’ve put on since I met her mother. What can I say? I love cooking and the cooks who cook so well.

Queasy Rider Part Two

I recently spoke about how I have lost my edge as a roller coaster and amusement park enthusiast. I don’t know if it’s an inner ear thing or just plain age. It could be that becoming a father took away that desire to put my life and my lunch on the line in an effort to get the adrenaline flowing. I don’t know even know if I still have what it takes to stand in line for a ride that takes you straight up into the stratosphere and then plunges you head first into the ground like Mel Gibson’s career. Maybe I should just relegate myself to riding the train around the park and yell at kids for walking fast past me.

Last weekend, my wife had the spontaneous notion to just up and go to Kennywood. I reeled back in terror, not because she wanted to go to an amusement park but, because she decided to just do it as a spur of the moment thing. We don’t do well with spontaneity. We tried it once on vacation a few years ago when we decided to take the last day of our trip to Myrtle Beach and drive up to the Outer Banks to see the lighthouses. We didn’t realize we would end up in a Post Apocalyptic Pool Hall At the End Of the Outer Banks. It just seems that every time we try to do something on a whim ,we end up causing a rift in the space time continuum. Bad things happen. However, we realized that summer is flying by and our three year old should get to see Kennywood this year. So, I packed up our World Ending Survival Kits and got ready for a little spontaneity. To even out the odds of riding and babysitting, we included my wife’s niece on the trip and headed out.

First off, we picked the hottest day of the century to go to the park. Everywhere little red mercury thermometers were saying, “’Eff this! It’s too damn hot.” The high temperature was listed to be 93 but the heat index probably put it over 103. Now, why can’t they just say it’s 103? I don’t care what the temperature is and then what it feels like. Either tell me what the temperature is or tell me what the temperature feels like, but don’t say both. Pick one and stick with it. It’s the same with wind chill. Just say it’s the worse number in terms of hot or cold. It makes my life easier. I’m standing in my bedroom toggling between fashion choices. “Well, it’s 93 out there so let’s go with boxers. But, it feels like it 103, so maybe I should go with briefs.” Tell you what, that’s how we should report the weather. “Ladies in gentlemen, the temperature is going to be over 100 degrees. Better go with wet suit.”

Secondly, my daughter has no fear. I mean she will run at top speed towards a brick wall expecting the brick wall to move. The first words out of her mouth, upon exiting the Family Truckster and seeing the Phantom’s Revenge plummeting towards the parking lot with screaming and yelling passengers on it, was “I want to ride that roller coaster.” I informed her that she was still too small for it and she rebuffed my comments and said, “But, I’m a big girl.” Kids. We decided to start off small and rode the carousel. She got a kick out of riding the horses and felt that was all the prep work she would need and started picking out all the spin and puke worthy rides to try next. I told her we needed to get some lunch first but she was adamant about living on the edge.  Of course, wanting to eat and then ride spin and puke rides was pretty close to living on the edge for me.

With park food, you cannot go wrong if you get Potato Patch fries. I don’t care how hot it is outside, you can find the will to scarf down those awesome fries with cheese. One great addition to the Food and Beverage department was the presence of forks. While it’s nice to get knuckles deep into a basket of cheese fries, it just makes it easier when dealing with a little one. Midway through lunch, my wife had to take her to the Sierra Mist Misting Station to get cooled off a bit. Did I mention it was hot? That was pretty much the theme of the day. “It’s hot!” It was the kind of heat that negated the effects of drinking four or five soft drinks in a row. I would have done better with water but a medium Pepsi or Mountain Dew was $2.39 and a 16 ounce bottle of water, in the vending machine, was $3.00. I was hot but not that hot, yet.

Next up was the Turtles. This was another one of my favorite rides as a kid. It simply goes around in a circle and every so often goes over a hill. Not too thrilling, to say the least, but that whole grumpy man / inner ear thing was making me a little queasy. That and the fact that the seats were made of reflective metal had me wishing I’d worn longer shorts but the effects of the heat on the outside of my legs was nothing compared to the heat that was generated within the confines of my clothing. The relative humidity of my shorts was somewhere around 110%. Any longer on the length of the material in my short legs would have had me looking for that wet suit. Still, the little one got such a kick out of these rides.

After I regained my equilibrium we headed over to the Lost Kennywood section of the park and my wife, niece, and daughter decided to forgo the long line for the Pittsburgh Plunge and just stand in the observation area to catch the splash down from the boats. Me, I opted to stay as dry as possible since I was the human purse. I had to carry everything in my pockets, cell phone, keys, camera and wallet. I was like a cat. I did not want to get wet. Regardless of how hot it was, I maintained my “stay dry if at all possible” policy.

That’s another thing I’ve grown out of in my years.  Water rides. I used to love rides like the Raging Rapids and Log Jammer. On a hot day I found comfort in just getting completely drenched on a water ride in order to cool off from the heat. But, in my curmudgeon years, I’ve stayed away from water as if I was a Mogwai. It may not be all about age. The one thing that used to drive me nuts as an Amusement Park employee was when a soaking wet guest would reach into their sock and pull out a folded stack of money. They would peel the dollar bills away from each other, discard the hitchhiking lint, and hand me a few ones to play my game. I wanted to put on a biohazard suit and use tongs to take their money. Things worsened when you got their wet money and you put in the stack of money you had in your apron and then the wetness transferred to the rest of the stack. It just felt dirty. It would be like handing a twenty to a stripper and asking for change. Besides being impolite, it’s a little on the eww side. I don’t think I want the ones you just pulled out of your crotch. It’s nothing against you personally. I support single moms working their way through medical school. Not that I know anything about that.

Apart from my hang ups about getting wet at the amusement park it’s not just about me getting wet. In fact, if it pours down rain, I welcome the relief from the heat. It’s the water in the park that I don’t care for experiencing. It’s that poorly chlorinated water that smells of minerals and sweat that gags me. The water from wet rides consist of whatever base water is in the ride plus all the dirt, grime, sweat and possibly other bodily fluids it collects as it drips off the passengers onto the floor of the ride. It gets stomped around by their shoes and then falls back into the water and then gets recycled back into the ride, ready to splash the next guest. Standing in line for a ride along with tens of others who reek of "wet guest" is not exactly a lot of fun. I am just as to blame as I stand there with the crotch pot set to simmer. I should have chosen briefs for this.

After The Petri Dish Plunge, my wife took her niece to go try out the new ride while I braved the wilds of Kiddieland with my daughter. Now, I fully expected to find myself in the middle of my worst nightmare. I was all set to be amid a sea of rotten children, pushing and shoving their way around the rides. I was prepared to stand in long lines and watch as my little angel turned into a devil as she sometimes [read: often] becomes impatient. What I wasn’t ready for was the exact opposite. She was tickled to ride and was a perfect little doll. The ride operators were courteous and helpful. The other kids were very polite and while there was a little excitement over getting into the gates, they all pretty much took turns.  There were no Altamont or Riverfront Stadium reenactments, anywhere. The only time it even got a little scary was the revelation that I would have to ride the S.S. Kenny with my kid. I thought the S.S. Kenny was supposed to be a kiddie version of the Pirate Ship. However, that was a miscalculation. The Pirate Ship only goes back and forth. This was more like the Cosmic Chaos as The S.S. Kenny goes back and forth and then spins around as it sails. I might as well have been on the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Once my wife returned to tag me out, I booked it for the front of the park to ride the new coaster, The Skyrocket. The wait was almost an hour long, but I was willing to tough it out along with the other park water soaked guests. EW. I then noticed something a little amiss. Up ahead of me was this little whelp of guy holding an infant. Couldn’t have been more than a few months old. Beyond thinking, “Hey, get that kid under some cover, it’s hot and sunny out here,” I couldn’t help but wonder how this guy was going to pull this off when he got to the deck. There’s no way in all of Zelienople that they are going to let that kid ride and I didn’t see any mother around, either. Once we got up to the deck I saw the master plan. Momma was riding two cars ahead of him and when her car came back in, he was ready to get on after handing the baby over to her. Made more sense to me after witnessing it. Still, they handed off an infant over a gap in the floor which made me cringe a little. Yet, that all went away as I got ready to try out a new coaster.  In all, the ride lasted just over a minute and was pretty neat, save the hour wait.

By now, the late afternoon sun was blazing over the park’s horizon and was still very hot.  My wife snuck in another splash down cleansing and an hour long wait for the indoor coaster called The Exterminator while I rode The Whip and the Carousel with the munchkin. We stopped for some pizza and then I was back to Kiddieland while my wife rode the Aero 360 with her niece. Until now, we both looked at that ride like it was enough to make us yack. She rode it twice, though, loving it. I was still enjoying being a proud parent and wearing that badge of honor as my little one continued to ride her heart out on the miniature rides. Unfortunately, another spin and puke called the Dizzy Dynamo. It was a bit like a Tilt-A-Whirl but I felt more like it was a Tilt-A-Hurl. She got to ride the mini Turtles and a few more rides before my wife got back.

We decided to ride the carousel and the Paratrooper before getting ice cream. I was all set to spray the crowd on the Paratrooper while my daughter giggled and laughed all throughout the ride. As we stood in line for ice cream the flood gates opened over the park. It had been threatening to rain since before sunset and now we were caught inside the park. We all hopped up on the covered porch surrounding the cafeteria and ate our ice cream before dodging the raindrops back to the van.

That’s when it happened. We had one more ride to go on and it was the car ride home. This little angel, this perfect child, this kid who spent the better part of seven hours riding her but off didn’t make it out of the parking lot before crashing. So, I guess I can still find enjoyment and excitement at the amusement park at my age without having to wear black socks up to my knees or shake my fist at the “damn kids” who whiz past me heading for the roller coaster queues. I just have to spend some time watching my kid enjoy the hell out of riding the rides. I don’t have to worry about my tubes going all wonky or fear that my Potato Patch fries might make a reappearance. I kind of like it that way. I still like that car ride at the end of the day. That’s still my favorite.  By the way, I need a shower.  I've got some serious "wet guest" funk going on with my person.  Should have worn a wet suit.

Bittersweet Nights In Corolla Light

In case you were wondering where I was last week, and I’m sure you pulled out all the stops looking for me like I was Abby Sunderland, take comfort in knowing that I was on vacation. Perhaps you’re not taking comfort and instead are taking out a hit on me for flaunting that I was able to do such a thing. In either case, I’m back and semi ready to resume boring you to death with useless stories. However, among these trite posts hides little nuggets of wisdom like corn in your… never mind.

So, once again, I travelled to the Outer Banks for a much needed yet hardly attainable vacation. If you recall my lengthy diatribe last year, Nights In South Rodanthe, you’ll probably want to skip to the end or go back the way you came. Yet, I will try to minimize the muck and show some brevity of dimwit. Yeah, right.

The trip this year was bittersweet.  Last year's trip to Avon marked the first vacation my in laws had ever really taken.  It was also the first time my mother-in-law had seen the ocean in real life.  Sadly, it was also the last time.  I've mentioned it before but the last night we were there, the two of us finished off the last of the frozen custard we bought at a place in Buxton.  We sort of bonded over a bowl of some of the best I'd ever had.   I asked her if she had a good time and she said she did. I asked her if she understood why people did all this work for a week’s worth of beach time and she said, “No.” I laughed and agreed with her.  I don’t know why either.  I still haven't talked much about her dying and I'm not really ready to do that post.  As it was, we were finalizing plans for this year's trip at the end of March and she died the week after Easter.   She was looking forward to going back and really liked the house we picked.    I was looking forward to getting another quart of custard and shooting the breeze again.  I didn't have any this year and that seems right to me.  if you knew me, you'd be apalled at my missing out on such a great treat.  Maybe next year.

SOUNDS FAR FROM PERFECT
Instead of staying in Avon, this year, we headed North to Corolla, again. I say again because I stayed there in 2005 during Hurricane Ophelia. Ironic in that the storm was named after a character who drowned. Nice. Anyway, After dealing with some company in 2005, that I cannot recall at the moment, and having issues with Sun Realty, last year concerning the pool heat and them calling me a liar and trying to keep my money, I decided to go with a different outfit called Outer Banks Blue. I had a few places in mind with different companies including Sun Realty because we really liked the house we had last year in Avon, even with all the issues. Unfortunately, the new owners of the house put in minimal updates and raised the rental price $1000 for the same week as we had last year. Regardless, I kept a few properties on the back burner and played them against each other in the pricing game.

The one nice thing about Outer Banks Blue was that they gave you the final cost upfront and the house we were looking at was in the Corolla Light Town Center section with access to the various amenities such as free beach parking, use of the pools, playgrounds, and basketball and tennis courts as well as a shuttle that could take us to and from the beach. The bad thing was that they did not check their listing very well against the house. Granted, it wasn’t the end of the world in terms of inaccuracies on their part but it did end up influencing my vote on which house to go with in the end. Still, even after I brought it to their attention they neglected to fix the listing. Here is the listing for the house. In case they do finally fix it, here is a screenshot of what the listing said when I booked the house, rented the house, lived in the house, and wrote this post the week after I left the house.

Like I said, a minor inconvenience for most people. But when I could have had an awesome house on a golf course or a place we called the Taj Mahal for the same price with wireless access, it makes me a little miffed. Since, I like to keep up with the important things like, you know, my email, shirt shops, [muffled voice] mafia and farm [/muffled voice], it’s nice to be able to get up and make the little one some breakfast and surf the web while she watches Dino Train or Sid the Science Kid in the same room. When I have to go to a whole other floor to be jacked into a three foot cable just to get a connection it becomes counterproductive.

I knew within minutes that there was no router but acted ignorant of the fact when I called the office. I asked how I went about making the wifi work. She said she wasn’t sure but would send someone out to check on it. When the guy arrived he said there was no wireless and called back to the office. Now, you can always tell when someone is going to try and pull one over on you. I learned that from the experience with the pool heater last year. When this guy first mentioned to the other person on the phone that he was at the house that used to belong to Village and that I was standing right there, the plan fell apart. I had already heard enough to figure out what happened. I had also found a journal left by the owners giving basic instructions and tips along with guest comments and all mentioned Village Realty. I put it all together and when he got off the phone, I said to the guy, “Let me guess. Outer Banks Blue acquired this property from Village Realty and just copied and pasted the listing, not bothering to check if they had kept the router?” He sheepishly looked at me and said, “Yep.”

He told me to contact the manager and discuss it. Frankly, I was tired of fighting with people for stupid stuff. It wasn’t the end of the world and figured, “OK, no wireless. Business will have to wait until I can get time. I’m on vacation for crissakes!” Instead of fighting for refunds or principles, I’ll just vote with my wallet and go somewhere else… and blog the whole experience so that other consumers can be sure to check on these things before they rent houses. I’m still a prick, first and foremost, I’ve just decided to use other methods to deal with issues. After working for almost ten years in a customer service capacity, I’ve learned that losing a customer can be more expensive that properly dealing with an issue. If it were my company, I would have taken the opportunity to reach out to the customer, proactively, and offered an apology and even made a deal to offer them some kind of discount, whether it be a gift card to the local grocery stores or a discount on a repeat stay the next summer. But then again, that’s why I am not in charge of anything.

EATING OUT
My sister-in-law decided to stay in the 4X4 section in Carova. It’s a bit hairy getting up there but pretty awesome to drive out onto the beach and see wild horses. Although, the bugs are pretty big and I think I saw one of them carrying a small child away. You also have to plan your schedule around the tides and nightfall. This can play havoc for you if you like to eat out or visit with the rest of your group who decided to minivan it in the paved sections of the OBX. For us, we managed to get out a total of four times for dinner.

Fat Crabs Rib Company, Corolla, NC
For a little joint in the shopping plaza next to Corolla Light I was impressed. It’s kind of like picnic table and chair fair with cold cases set up for grabbing a drink out of at your table. I had the pulled pork sandwich and it was pretty darn good. My father-in-law had the crab and was impressed. The hush puppies were pretty damn good to. I give the place three out of five stars for food quality.

Jimmy’s Seafood Buffet, Kitty Hawk, NC
I can remember the Bonfire restaurant in Ocean City, MD as being my first taste of seafood buffet indulgence. I went there with a couple of friends and we spent three hours just eating. I think we may have taken a power nap in between trips to the buffet. At the end of the meal we probably had 20 or so plates stacked on the table. My one friend then defiled the experience by getting drunk and throwing up in the middle of the night. “$20 worth of prime rib, down the toilet” was the quote the next day. That was 1995, I believe. $20 for all you care to eat prime rib, crab legs, seafood, pasta, desert, etc. 15 years later, I still remembered that quote as I got my bill from Jimmy’s. $28.95 for the buffet. On that buffet, ten types of crab legs, seafood of different kinds, pasta, meats, and desert.

However, compared to other places, I was a bit disappointed. I had heard of some bad reviews online but was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt. First off, expect a wait. It is the big name buffet in the OBX. However, to pass the time with the impatient kiddies, there are free pony rides out back. Once we got in, we were cramped into a nook near the bar that had a five foot high wall separating us from the main flow of traffic. Together with two tables, placed perpendicular to us at the front of the nook, we felt a bit trapped. It took some tactical planning to effectively make trips to the buffet and not have to make everyone move for you to get back into the corner. For as big and as busy as this place was I would have expected bigger bathrooms, but unfortunately, they were one man bands.

The food was pretty decent. I ate a ton of food and at least four sets of crab legs. I stuck to the Alaskan but if I ever go back will try the big spiny ones as well. I was eyeing up the Russian, King, and Dungeness as I picked up a second helping of Alaskan.

Overall, I give it three stars but I would suggest getting there early if you have to drive back to the 4X4 section. Also, they just opened up a location in Ocracoke last year, I think. That may be a hell of a lot nicer place to visit but you have to go by boat and once again, plan accordingly.

Captain George’s, Kill Devil Hills, NC
If you’re heading East on 158… which feels like South, and you’ve just passed the Wright Brothers’ Memorial, it’s on the left. I highly, HIGHLY, recommend going there. For the same price as Jimmy’s you don’t get the ten types of crab legs, but you get awesome food, service, and a bit of ritz. The OBX location is brandy new and if you are familiar with the Virginia Beach location, it’s a bit of a departure. I’ve been the one in Virginia a few times and I liked it. It looks like an old sailing ship, akin to Pirates of the Caribbean, on the inside. The new one in the OBX might as well be called Captain Trump’s because the inside is pretty classy looking. The servers and bus staff wear those floor length apron things and they keep clearing your table as you eat. Believe me, they are on top of things. The food was excellent. I had four sets of crab legs, all Alaskan, hush puppies that were pretty good, and the best G’Dam corn bread I’ve ever eaten. It’s in muffin form for easier picking and believe me, you’ll want more than one. They also had the one thing I love, that was missing from Jimmy’s, Seafood Norfolk. That’s pretty much a hodgepodge of crab bits, shrimp and scallops drowned in butter. I had two helpings of that. The deserts were excellent and I cannot complain about driving a half hour from Corolla to get there. We went at the same time as we did for Jimmy’s and walked right in and sat down.

Kill Devil's Frozen Custard, Kill Devil Hills, NC
And if you are already in Kill Devil Hills, try some of the best frozen custard around as well as hot dogs, fries.  The last time I stayed in Corolla, which was 2005, I happened upon this place with my wife while looking for some frozen custard.  It is truly awesome.  I take frozen custard very seriously.

Uncle Eddie's Frozen Custard, Buxton, NC
If you happen to be on Pea Island and near the Cape Hatteras Light, run up to Buxton and get some Uncle Eddie's.   We bought it in quarts last year and on our last night there, we had to finish it up.  It was a nice little moment between myself and my late mother-in-law.  It still gets me thinking about having that conversation about her first trip to the beach.

Route 12 Steak and Seafood Company, Corolla, NC
We wanted to stick close to home our last night and we knew that driving to Duck would take an extra 15 minutes so we tried something different. Right in Corolla, at the TimBuck II shopping plaza is this little joint. It’s pretty small inside but that wasn’t a problem. They have a limited menu and it’s all pretty fancy and high priced. I will recommend the pasta marinara as my wife and daughter both liked it. I had the Seafood Fra Diavolo. That’s noodles with lobster, shrimp, and scallops mixed in with a spicy tomato based sauce. It was excellent. The scallops were about half the size of hockey pucks and tender as all get out. There was no rubbery texture at all.

Fishbone’s Sunset Grille and Raw Bar, Duck, NC
We tried this place out in 2005 and liked it. The menu is a bit on the spicy side but you have the opportunity to eat out on the deck of the sound and watch the sunset. I honestly cannot remember what I ate but it was pretty good and I would eat there again. It was a backup plan for our last night but we didn’t want to have to drive the extra fifteen minutes into Duck to go there and wait. And you will wait for a bit.

Other than that, we didn’t do much else. I climbed the top of the Currituck Light and after climbing Hatteras Light I can say this one seemed harder to do. The view is pretty cool. You can see the sound and the ocean and it’s a bit of a disappointment to see how built up the area is getting in Corolla. Soon, it will be just as crowded as Nags Head. Staying in Corolla has the potential to appear pretentious but honestly, it’s a hell of a lot quieter and relaxing than Avon was. The only drawback is the one way in and out on Route 12. There are talks of putting in a short cut which would consist of a bridge to Corolla from the mainland. I’d like it but I’d hate to see that drive more people into the area. There’s already concern of overdeveloping the 4X4 area which is the last place to see the Wild Mustangs of the Outer Banks. They have a huge fence up at the end of Route 12 to keep them north and it would be sad to see them driven even further from their natural habitat. The other piece of advice I’ll give about staying up in Corolla. Leave early. It took us nearly two hours to get to the Border Station in Moyock. A majority of the rentals end on Saturday so expect there to be a lot of traffic on 12 and 158. In fact we were stop and go almost all the way on 64 until we reached the tunnel.

All the issues aside, I’ll be back next year and with more tales of Mongo in the wild. Have a great summer.

A Mongo Confession

In light of recent news stories such as Tiger Woods and Jesse James, I felt that it was unfortunate but necessary to come forward with an admittance and apology. My behavior is not excusable nor expected of someone who tries to uphold certain values. Although I am not without faults and far short of perfect I cannot make excuses for my actions. Instead of dealing with these issues and shortcomings away from the daily life I have come to lead, I feel the need to cleanse my soul and start the healing with you, my readers.
I never thought it would be so hard to walk that line and coming to grips with what has transpired in recent years is going to take some time. I do not ask for forgiveness but support in making things right. I know I am asking far more than I deserve but by seeking help I am making that first step towards closure and I thank those who have chosen to come together around me instead of shying away in fear and disgust.

The heart of the matter is that I have had several secret relationships with other women since before and after my marriage. I did treat my marriage honestly and have made several efforts to conceal my actions over the years. Now, I can sit here and tell that these others meant nothing to me and that it was just mindless engagements but that would be lying. I have had multiple encounters with these others and continued to participate in secretive activity with them while my wife was even in the house. It is amazing how you can conceal certain things if you truly wish to. Unfortunately, remnants of our trysts were left behind and were and now I am forced to come clean. Quite frankly, maybe I wished this upon myself. Perhaps the strain of concealing these acts was too much and I unconsciously put myself in the path of discovery in order to end the charade. I do admit that having my wife walk into our kitchen and catch me in an embrace with one of these others was regretful but ultimately, I have hurt her more than I can ever know.

Now, in the interest of protecting all parties, I was advised to not divulge the names of these other women but I feel that by concealing their identities they will undoubtedly be thrust into focus in an attempt to capitalize on what could be considered a scandalous situation. I have conferred with all parties and have been given clearance by all but one to announce their identities in the hopes that we can stop the wildfires of gossip before the flames can be fanned. This is extremely difficult and I find that my hands are shaking as I write this.

The names of the involved parties are:
Wendy
Dolly Madison
Little Debbie
Sara Lee
Betty Crocker
an unnamed Hostess
Dairy Queen

Please accept my sincerest apologies for breaking the trust we had between us. I will try to be a better person.

Screams From An Italian Restaurant

I will start off by saying that ten years ago, I would be guilty of this. Although, I don’t know why. I question it because almost 15 years ago, at the age of 20, I would have been content to mosey into my favorite dark and smoky bar, Hemingway’s, nestled below the dorms of The University of Pittsburgh and just slink into a set of tables, near the back and just hang out. No loud whooping it up. No lined up shots along the bar ready to toss back. Simply a few us, just sitting there, enjoying our drinks and loving life as an unemployed actor, contemplating life after college.

Shhh. Don’t tell anyone I was drinking underage in a bar. Well, it’s not like any famous NFL quarterback, with questionable morals was there buying me drinks… at least because I’m a guy. (I had a whole tangent written involving the joke about keeping a guy’s “you know what” in his wife’s purse. I’ll just skip it.) My point is that, yeah, I went a little nuts when I turned 21 and spent my hard earned pay partying after a long day of working for an Amusement Park in Ohio, still, after that year I retreated back to my cloak of tortured, misunderstood, old, before his time, soul. That was until I graduated college and had to get a real job.

Then it was, “Hey a bunch of friends are going to the local sports bar for wings. Let’s be loud and tell jokes and make lots of noise.” The 21 year old me would have glaringly side-eyed the 25 year old me for being annoying. Still, it was a simple phase that I grew out of before I hit 30. I very rarely drink except for a holiday which may be at most a glass of wine with dinner. However, I like to go and enjoy a good dinner with company. Usually, on Saturday, we join my in-laws for dinner at an Italian restaurant, near our home. It’s a hard place to get into on a Saturday night. They aren’t very big and with a little one it’s easier to get a large booth and let her sit on a booster between my wife and I?

The biggest problem I have with the place is that they always seem to have the loudest and rowdiest bunch of people seated at a long set of tables right up against us. It never fails. It’s hard enough to be able to carry a conversation with my daughter jabbering away but when you have the 50-60 crowd of cackling women and screaming men who all seem to laugh in a simultaneous uproar it becomes nearly impossible.

Whenever we sit down and begin to see the staff pushing the tables together we know what is coming. A group of glammed up cougar wannabes, doused in Old Lady Spice, toting their cocktails from the bar over to the table. Then comes the man and their vodka tonics or whatever and they look like they should be in contracting. Well dressed and slicked up hair, perfect mustaches that would make a 70s porn star cry. They all sit down and begin talking loudly, laughing even louder, constantly making it difficult for us to get out or our server to get in to serve our dinners.

The ears bleed, the eyes water, and the left hand firmly restrains the right one which is wielding a steak knife aimed directly at the temple. Honestly, It is so hard to sit and carry on a civil conversation just below a mild roar and not be annoying? I could understand if we were in a rowdy bar or someplace like a T.G.I.Fridays. But this is a little Italian restaurant with excellent house dressing and low lighting. I’m just trying to enjoy my steak sandwich and I have to put up with the cackling. Even the 25 year old me would be sitting there with the 20 year old wondering, “WTF?” (mandatory use internet slang quota reached for this post.)

Ultimately, we just put up with it, keep our comments under our breath. We finish our meal and we go, awaiting the next week’s offering of the men and ladies of the Aqua Velva and Net set, respectively. It really is a good house dressing. I love the turkey club and the Fra Diavola. I just don’t like all the yelling. I’m grumpy and old now. I’m no longer a tortured soul. I have a family and a mortgage. I’m not an unemployed actor, but I play one on….ok that was too easy of a joke. I’m still misunderstood but that’s because I am the only guy in a household of females. There’s my wife, my daughter, three female cats and one male, but he doesn’t count because he’s fixed. (Here’s where the reprise of the “junk-in-the-wife’s-purse” joke would have come back.) Makes me want to scream sometimes. Perhaps I will over a nice seafood marinara and a piece of bread dipped in the house dressing. You really do have to try it.

Cookie Duh

Nestle recently pulled it’s refrigerated brands of Toll House Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough products from stores over concerns of E. coli contamination. The reason being was that consumers ingested some of the raw cookie dough and became sick. Could you imagine being at grandma’s house, baking up a batch of Nestle’s nummy nuggets, and digesting a dollop of dough, not knowing the Escherichia Coli nature of these uncooked chocolate chip chunks?

Is this Stupidity in the Raw? Is there any threat to actually baking this toxic toll house cookie concoction? In a word, maybe. While the possibility for anyone who died, from eating the raw dough, to be nominated for a Darwin exists, there is more afoot here than plain old fashioned moronic activity. Usually, consuming raw cookie dough allows for exposure to Salmonella, not E. coli. Yet, still people continue to chomp on this comfort food while it’s still in its uncooked form. Had people baked the cookies and became sick, the culprit in this case may have gone unnoticed because not many would look at fresh baked cookies to be contaminated. People would be more likely to look at the tomatoes or lettuce in their refrigerator as the usual suspect.

Now, while I would like to complain about the nature of, what could be called, frivolous lawsuits against Nestle because of this issue, Nestle is not without shame in recent years. Looking over the trusted news source that is Wikipedia, a slew of criticisms can be found ranging from price fixing to melamine laced milk. Of course, calling Wikipedia a trusted news source is like calling Faux News a fair and balanced media outlet, but a little more digging into the cited charges can reveal better evidence.

But that doesn’t indemnify either party in this matter. I am as guilty as the rest of the cookie dough fiends of the world. As a wee Mongo, I worked at an amusement park and would often visit friends who worked in a Giant Cookie stand. They would throw me a gob of soon to be baked cookie dough from time to time. It was heaven. Had I ever gotten sick, I would have no one to blame but myself. Still, the nature of these lawsuits stem from becoming sick from an out of the ordinary illness associated with raw cookie dough that has been made from pasteurized ingredients. In this case, kudos to Nestle for taking prompt action on pulling the products from shelves and nuts to those individuals who cry foul when they eat the uncooked morsels.

It’s OK to roast me for my insensitivity over the issue, but when you consider that eating raw cookie dough is a risk associated behavior, you are probably engaging in off label use by consuming it. I don’t have a bag in front of me but I would venture to guess that somewhere on the labeling it says “Do Not Consume Raw Cookie Dough.” If anything, stupidity could be a good thing as people may never have known the extent of this matter had they not gotten sick from raw dough.

Every year we are treated to another food related scandal. Is it the fault of manufacturers going soft on standards and quality control? Is the fault of migrant farm workers not washing up before working in the fields? Is it the fault of the public for not adhering to warning labels? All three are somewhat guilty of being caught with their hand in the cookie jar. How this all plays out over the media is a mystery, yet with every passing year, we face a new threat from our food. M. Night Shyamalan could have been onto something with his milk dud of a film, The Happening. Maybe the world is finally out to get us. Storms rage across the plains, earthquakes and fires ravage our homes, and the food we eat has become a weapon in the war against mankind. However, somewhere in the distance, you can hear the maniacal laughter of a little Dough Boy and there is no finger pushing into his belly. Victory is poppin’ fresh.