The SandBar

So if you ever happen to be in Newport Beach, CA, (as I found myself two weeks ago following an intense work-related mission directly involving a man named Rolls Royce) then good luck to you, my friends. There ain't NOTHIN' to do there. It's no wonder that my cousin Laura was sent there for a symposium by a certain, anonymous California university system. Those symposium planners knew that she would not be distracted from her symposi-studies by things like good food, interesting people, or nightlife. They figured a large portion of her per diem and that of her work-homies would go unspent due to restaurants all closing around the time her sessions ended each day. What they had not counted on: THE PROFESSA'!!!

That's right. I swooped in on said symposium and really shook things up (also described as "followed my cousin and her friend around in wonder while they took full advantage of the Newport Hyatt's amenities.")

The hotspot of the Hyatt Newport (and the entire Newport area, as far as I can tell)? The Sandbar. Telling you that this bar is touted as a hotspot is as good a way as any to pinpoint the essence of Newport. I met up with the blood-relative and her friend for some pre-bike-ride champagne (I try to never engage in cardiovascular activity without an elevated Blood Alcohol Content), and on a whim we ordered the hummus plate. Mmm, whimsy tastes like tahini. Had I known our delightful server would conjure up such a satisfying mini-meal, I would've ordered another two glasses of bubbly. I should've ordered another two anyway, but Christine (pal of cousin) was really in a hurry to get bikin'. I don't know why; I suspect some sort of allergy to champagne and/or an allergy to not-biking.

But back to the hummmmmus. There was a little vegetable tapenade, and some exquisitely scalene pita pieces (geometry! aesthetics!), and it was the only food I had all day, and thusly, the only thing that prevented me from getting a BUI.

Then came the bike ride. The Newport Hyatt lets you rent beach cruisers for a small fee (At least, I assume it was small... But, on a related note, per + diem is my new fave word combo). And I gotta give it to the little blonde with the weird allergies, what a genius idea. The road was pretty flat, the scenery was pretty scenic, the wheels were pretty rotatey. I don't know, my descriptive skills are really better suited to cuisine and waitstaff. That's what the photos are for! Evidence!

Thesis Statement: I believe that the cardiovascular benefits of an hour-long bike ride are made no less valid when followed by two hours of competitive szechuan binge-eating at PF Chang's.

On Living with my parents...(again)...and On Laziness

I put the peanut butter away today. Loyal bayou-ers know that The Professor begins each morning with a complex set of ablutions and rituals that commence with a dozen cups of coffee with milk and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich; chunky pb, raspberry or strawberry preserves, milton's multi-grain bread (i am a human being, after all). But what may shock you, nay, may frighten you is that I am the laziest mofo who has ever lived (in her parents' house) (whilst contributing no rent) (and often eating leftovers that were not mine to leave-over).

It began about a month ago, when instead of putting the pb away, I contemplated the economy-size jar, picturing the moment that would occur in exactly 24 hours, when I would again be removing the jar from its shelf in the pantry, bringing it to the counter where the bread slices would lay open, open the jar, reclose, then replace it in its original position. I figured that to save myself those 40 some-odd seconds in the morning, I may as well just leave the jar out on the counter for easier access. open, then reclose. it would be so simple! so pure! so free of superfluous movement!

The parent (or Professor-spawner, as he is mainly known), saint that he is, said nothing. There were a few days within the last month when I would find that the peanut butter had mysteriously found its way back home to the pantry, but for the most part, it would just get moved out of the way during daily counter-requiring tasks, and moved back into its sandwich-ready position by morning. Enablers!

It was when, under the same reasoning, i considered leaving the milk out on the counter for goodsies that I realized the madness needed to end. And it might as well end today, on the shelf space designated for pb.

Th. Stmt: I don't deserve milk. And if I do, only skim. 2% is too good for the Professor and her negligent attitudes toward spoilage. *sigh*

I live here!? I am a fraud and an ingrate.

Tips for Living

So in response to this list, written by John Carney, my brother came up with his own amazing set of tips for living. I guess it's up to you which tips you follow, but try to follow my tip for choosing tips: Don't be stupid, Stupid.

An excerpt from John Carney's Tips (hint: wrong choice, Stupid.)

101 Tips For Living

* You should never have to match your socks, other than to separate black from white; buy 18 pairs of identical socks in each color and throw them all out every six months.
* Pants with pleats get cuffs; pants without, do not.
* Carry around those small bottles of hand sanitizer and use some before you eat.
* Business casual was invented to prevent younger people from dressing better than their bosses. Rebel and wear a suit or jeans.
* If you need to put stuff in your hair to add shine or hold, you are washing your hair too often.
* Yes, you do have to floss.
* You will regret your tattoos.
* Time is too short to do your own laundry.
* Learn how to speak before groups.
* An undershirt will prevent you from perspiring through your overshirt.
* Yes, you do have to go to the gym.
* Stop talking about where you went to college.
* When people don’t invite you to parties, you really shouldn’t go.
* Sometimes even when you are invited, you shouldn’t go.
* When in doubt, always kiss the girl.
* If a book is too big to carry around comfortably, cut it up and carry the pages you can read.
* Yes, you do have to have your shoes shined.
* Do thirty-push ups before you shower each morning.
* Eat brunch with friends every other weekend.
* Be a regular at a bar.
* Learn how to fly-fish.
* Ask for a salad instead of fries.
* Pretty women who are unaccompanied want you to talk to them. Ask someone for an introduction.
* You cannot always make amends with people.
* Buy furniture that you think is too small for your apartment. It isn’t.
* Cobblers will save your shoes.
* Figure out what kind of knot you like in your ties and stick with it.
* The first round of drinks is on you.
* When a bartender buys you a round, tip double.
* Hang your clothes up when you take them off.
* Except sweaters. Those get folded.
* Piercings are liabilities in fights.
* You’ll regret much more the things you didn’t do than the things you did.
* You may remove your jacket and roll up your sleeves. The tie may not be loosened.
* Carry a pocket knife.
* Buy a tuxedo before you are thirty. Stay that size.
* Subscribe to a small-circulation magazine.
* After one day of hanging, your tie should be rolled and placed in a drawer.
* People will dance if the music is loud enough and the lights are dim enough. You should too.
* You may only request one song from the DJ.
* Sleep outdoors when you can.
* Your clothes do not match. They go together.
* Yes, you do have to buy her dinner.
* Go to the theater.
* Always bring a bottle of something to the party.
* If you are wittier than you are handsome, avoid very loud clubs.
* Drink outdoors.
* Drink during the day.
* Date women outside your social set. You’ll be surprised.
* If it’s got velvet ropes and lines, walk away unless you know someone.
* You should probably walk away anyway.
* Place-dropping is worse than name dropping.
* The New Yorker is not a high-brow magazine.


Mark's Tips for Living (a.k.a. Nice choice, Kid Awesome!)

* Go ahead and pay extra for the good fireworks. It's worth it.
* Gel and other hair products aren't just for your hair. Some of them can totally get you wasted.
* One cool tattoo I thought of: a flaming skeleton riding a Harley on the back of a dragon.
* Don't use your pants as a car shammy, unless that's all you have.
* If you own more than one pair of socks, then you're a big-time snob.
* Yes, you have to shower every other week.
* Life is too short to say hello to people. Just nod and grunt instead.
* If you find yourself inside a dance club, and people are bugging you to dance, just pretend like you don't speak English. Then, when they turn away, try to swipe their wallets.
* Learn how to speak Klingon.
* Instead of fries, ask for chili fries. If they don't have chili fries, throw a hissy fit until they ask you to leave.
* Go to as many illegal hobo fights as you can. Someday the authorities are going to crack down on that.
* When in doubt, tell the girl she smells funny, and ask whether she's been hanging out at a petting zoo or something.
* It's okay to steal gum.
* Do 700 push-ups every morning. If you can't do it the first time, give up.
* Throw out all your furniture and replace it with the inflatable kind. You can clean it with a hose!
* Become a major industrial tycoon somehow.
* Parties are a waste of energy. Save your strength for the pie-eating contest next week.
* Pretty women who are unaccompanied want you to walk up to them and be like "Hey girl, you looking fine tonight." And then when they ignore you, just go "Why you trying to play me like that?"
* People often have British accents nowadays. You should too.
* If your TV is too big to carry around, cut it up into little pieces and carry those around with you. Then when you meet a foxy lady, you'll have something to talk about (i.e. why your TV is all wrecked).
* Carry a fanny pack full of hand sanitizer bottles.
* Learn how to become a cobbler. Those guys make BANK.
* Instead of beer in the morning, try drinking half-beer, half-coffee.
* Drink outdoors, and yell at passersby.
* Drink alone.
* Pants are a liability in a fight. Always wear jean shorts.
* Stalk someone different for a change.
* Don't buy a girdle at one of those fancy high-end places. The ones online are just as good.
* Yes, you do have to clean and polish your rifle after every skeet shooting match.

Cheripan

For the ultimate in pretention, you certainly have consulted the right person. Over the years (the years of NOT blogging about anything...), the emeffing Professor has visited many a pretentious eatery for the purpose of ...touting her own awesomeness the world over. Why, I have eaten in a Mexican restaurant in Pristina, Kosovo. I have eaten Italian cuisine in Bolivia. I have consumed American food in Texas. But the most overwhelmingly better than you sensation I've ever felt washed over me while dining at Cheripan, the Argentinian restaurant in Tijuana, Mexico, and the self-appointed Revolucion de Sabor.

While wandering around my office last Thursday, (my job is better than your job; i get paid to wander) I waited in breathless anticipation of ANYONE asking me what I was doing that night, or why I had that breathless anticipatory look on my face, or why I was wandering around the office like that. Once asked, or once I felt that the question was forming itself in the minds of the person who would surely have asked had I given them enough time, I would casually flip my hair and reply nonchalantly, "I think I'm just gonna cruise across the border and hit up a restaurant there. I feel practically exhausted with all the options in this country. But the exhaustion could be due to all this wandering around the office. I am simply beat."

Despite a little mishap with forgetting my passport (the Professor is charmingly disorganized...) and having to hit up the county clerk for a copy of my birth certificate final-hour-style instead, the whole "cruise across the border" thing went off without a hitch.

This was actually our second trip to Cheripan, and both times were good for the hunger, good for the sobriety, good for the soul (in that it completely eradicated all three). This second trip was special in double the standard amount of ways: 1. La Agente Kickass brought her sister, the future leader of the New Order. and 2. we finished before 11, meaning we had sufficient time to visit the sister restaurant of Cheripan, Argelato, for dessert.

The dinner was productive as we all were assigned (or called dibs on) our positions within the New Order. I am not sure how quickly impending the next Great Depression actually is, but better safe than sorry, I occasionally say. I called dibs on New Order poet. I will specialize in haiku, and I will avoid all things that have to do with food harvesting, animal husbandry, food preparation, laundry, shelter construction, and handiwork. Luckily, I possess this almost supernatural restaurant review ability, so people will practically be begging me to consume their food regardless of my assistance in its creation. I will oblige with a descriptive rhyme or two referencing its quality. Man, the Depression is gonna rawk!

Argelato was a treat. David, partial owner/founder of both restaurants called ahead for us, so we kicked it like VIP's and comimos the shit out of some fiiiiine gelatos. I had some avellana worth rhyming for; our intrepid leader Chelsea had some dulce de leche that was so sweet even her future children could taste it; La Agente Kickass got some mango gelato (the last of its kind before she is forced to enjoy flan); and I can't remember what Christie (leader of the New Order Foreign Service...was that confidential?) ordered, but it surely was a flavor to savor (see how naturally these rhymes just come? It's a gift. I hardly have any control over it).

Thesis Statement: There will come a time when only the strong will survive. Flan-haters will be forced to lead a tribe of flan-eaters through a perilous wilderness where trash will necessarily become treasure. Spiderwebs will be converted to dryer sheets (by someone way craftier than I am, obviously), and some people, those unprepared with Victory Gardens, won't even HAVE fabric softening dryer sheets. These will be truly testing times. So in the meantime, traveling across the border for a tender flank steak and some ice cream seems totally reasonable. Live it up while you can, folks.

Evidentiary support: I've already called dibs on your dryer sheet rations.

Look how happy we all are pre-Depression! Laughin' it up in our properly laundered clothing

Despues de comer unos sandwiches vegetarianos, some lomipan, y uno o dos martinis, aparecimos poco mas gorditas.

La Agente Kickass takes full advantage of the recently redesigned upper patio.