:: Privatjokr ::

A long overdue thank you and congratulations to both Nick and Kristin. They were married on a beautiful day in October; a wedding I was actually able to attend.

I have known Nick and Kristin both since college from classes we had together. Two men who love cheesesteaks...and the woman who loves one of the men. Seems like a friendship that should be the basis for large volumes of poetry.

As long as I have known the two of them they have been one, so it was no surprise to me when Nick told me he had proposed, nor that she had accepted. It was still an honor to be present for the wedding.

It was an opportunity to see two friends get married, see some old friends from college that I'd not seen in a while, and see a priest (or whatever religious title is bestowed upon him) chug a half gallon of the Blood of Christ.

Adult beverages were consumed, pictures were taken, people danced, people laughed, and two best friends became a family.

Thank you to Nick and Kristin for my invitation. I was glad that neither work nor school conflicted with the timing so I was able to be there with you. I do apologize for the time it has taken me to actually make this post. I had an amazing time in Virginia with you and everyone.

Congratulations!

There is perhaps no greater experience than walking into the barbershop and waiting for your turn in the chair while a handful of "old timers" converse. When I walked into the barbershop today and saw how long the wait was, at first I was disappointed. I would need to extend my lunch if I stay, or I have to roll the dice and try to come back later in the week to see Ken the barber and hope the line was shorter. Then I noticed who was ahead of me and was more than happy to stick it out and wait my turn.

One story. That was all I wanted. I am not picky, and I definitely did not want to push my luck.

So I took a seat and waited. There were four of us waiting our respective turns; one in the chair. The windows were cracked, for today it smelled like men in the barbershop. I was the youngest by more than one, if not two, generations.

There I sat, patiently reading my book. Eyes on the page. Ears waiting, ready to pounce when it happened, if it happened. And then it did.

"Ken, you should get one of them young fillies in here to do manicures," one man blurted out.
"Oh yeah? Should she do pedicures? Would that interest you?"
"I'm interested in cleavage," he said and then added, "As long as she has to bend down for it, I don't really care what she does."

And all is right with the world.

After a few days displeasure at not having been in attendance at the midnight showing as the movie opened, I finally got the chance to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

This is the movie based upon the fourth installment of J.K. Rowling's ever-popular series. In this volume we see Harry Potter compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament and in the movie we see little else.

I will not launch into my usual diatribe about the slaughter of innocent literary beauty for the betterment of cinema. For once I will spare you. I am trying to get better. Happy now?

With more than 700 pages of text to tackle, it is just not feasible to bring it all to the screen. It is a fact of life, one that I am trying to come to terms with. I tried not to focus on things that were different between the two versions but one thing that I cannot get past is simply how some scenes are stretched out and I blame Peter Jackson and George Lucas for giving us this new trend towards panoramic views and hard dramatic pauses. My only question is why can't you eliminate one or sixteen of those and add just one of the details you left out of the book?

With the movie being so directed towards the Tri-Wizard Tournament, there is little time for the furtherance of any characters or relationships between them. Regarding characters, here are my feelings on the movie:

1) Just take out the scene with Sirius in the fire. You never once talked about who he was, nor the relationship he has with Harry. You rely solely on the viewers having seen the previous movie(s). Odds are they have seen them, I understand that. Not only was he not brought up later, but the only thing of note that he tells Harry during their talk is to keep his friends close. The irony of this comment was lost on Harry as he was feuding with Ron and it seemed lost on the audience as well. This scene was essentially worthless.

2) What a great job this movie did in really letting the two young men who play the twins shine! The boys who play Fred and George Weasley were very well used in this, the fourth movie. They are practically the only two characters who are allowed to blossom. These two have really done an outstanding job as Fred and George in all of the movies, but in number 4 more than in the others you see how charming they can be; a trait very central to the characters they portray.

3) What a dweeb Cedric Diggory was. He makes a huge splash at the beginning of the movie as our heroes head to the portkey on the hill. He drops out of the tree because...well I guess because that is what big men on campus do. His character is what I feel is best equated to the star high school quarterback. Athletic, good looking, charismatic... When introduced, you have the impression he is each of those things and more. As the movie progresses he bears more and more resemblance to Edward, Prince of Wales, son of Longshanks, King of England in the movie Braveheart. No, that is not a positive comparison.

4) While the argument can be made that Richard Harris was just better suited for the role than Michael Gambon, I think that is not the point. The point is that the character of Albus Dumbledore just does not translate well. Take him off the page and he is a fish out of water flopping around on screen. The Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has such a presence. Without having read the books you may not understand that there is no better word for it, and to use presence I find is rather perfect.

5) Though I cannot think of anything that could have been better, I thought the makeup done for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was pretty weak. He is the most powerful wizard ever, right? Can't we make him look a little more intimidating and less like a slimy version of Beast in the old Beauty & The Beast TV series.

6) Was it me or did the students from Durmslang (Viktor Krum and his classmates) dress more like Klingons than Wizards?

Anyway, I did like the movie. I know after reading above you doubt that somewhat, but believe me. For at last the first five-sixths of it, the makers of the movie had me on the edge of my seat as the author does with each page of her books. For the remaining one-sixth...the movie just ended too abruptly. The tournament is over and all of a sudden so is the movie.

Overall: good film. The question was posed to me after seeing it was which of the four movies is my favorite. My answer is as non-committal as I always am. The movies are just too hard to compare. The first two really do such an excellent job of setting the mood of the fun and magic that is not just Harry Potter, but the fun and magic of the stories created by J.K. Rowling as well. Meaning that the stories are fun, but so is the feeling generated by them. I felt the need to separate the two for emphasis, get over it. The third movie (other than being not good) begins to really set the tone. The story moves much more quickly after the first two books. That was evident in the third movie and would have been if they had incorporated more of the story from the book in the fourth (ok ok, that was a cheap shot, I am sorry).

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One of my professors was telling our class the other day how she does not cook. When her children were growing up she said they would be disappointed to learn that she had made them a homecooked dinner. For Thanksgiving, she now buys the turkey, takes it to her sister's house and she says she gets to clean up. That part she is good at. Only once did she try to make a Thanksgiving turkey.

::Flashback::

As she had never done it she was following a recipe; though a little too closely it would appear. "Baste often," read the instructions and that is just what she did. She admitted to us that she basted her turkey every 5 minutes...

For those of you who do not spend much time in the kitchen and those of you who do but still don't get why this is hysterical, when you open your oven door you release all of the heat and doing so every 5 minutes is a pretty fantastic way to ensure that your turkey will not cook at all.

When her timer rang, she pulled out the bird and sure enough, it was not cooked...at all. To her credit (I think) she did not throw in the towel. She refused to be beaten by the one mistake so to cook her turkey, she placed it in the microwave to finish it.

And that was the first time, and thus the last time, she attempted to make a Thanksgiving turkey.

Maybe the meal you'll have isn't so bad now is it? Just a little story that I thought I would share with you before your hearty feasts tomorrow. Enjoy and Happy Thanksgiving!

What a day. Not only was I able to use my new $20 Calphalon Saucier but I was able to use it to make my first pot roast. And it could not have been easier.

I started with (pre cooked weight) 7 lbs. of chuck roast from Costco (of all places). This is a tremendous amount of roast, but we are healthy eaters and none ever goes to waste. The cut was actually very nice. There was not much waste on it at all. I was very impressed. It is good to know that Costco is a legitimate source for roast.

It might have been slightly overkill, but to be on the safe side I sprayed the bottom of my pot with non-stick spray before pouring in some olive oil.

Season your meat however you like. This part is really where one pot roast will differ from another. I utilized an old trick my mom uses and involved neither salt nor pepper. She gets some strange Italian seasoning packets from who knows where. Empty both of them is her instruction.

The roast is cut into four relatively equally sized pieces and placed in the pot to brown on the stove in the olive oil. For fun I added some dried onion flakes, one chopped garlic clove and just a splash of red wine once all sides of my roast had been browned.

Ok, now the directions get a bit difficult. You may want to write this part down so as to not forget...

Cover your pot and place it in the oven. Walk away.

Did you get that? Should I go over it again?

I set my oven to 300 degrees. Yes, only 300. I let the roast cook for 3 hours. I did not touch it until I took it out of the oven those 3 hours later.

My family has always served pot roast shredded. Once the roast has cooled enough to touch pick up the pieces and pull them apart in roughly bite sized pieces. After 3 hours in the oven the pieces will fall apart, you should not have to work too hard at this. Be careful however, the meat will hold in the heat and you can easily hurt your fingers.

Serve with whatever sides you wish. We opted this time against placing any vegetables in the pot with the roast but it is great with carrots, potatoes, even onions. To accompany the roast at the wishes of my dinner guests we did have mashed potatoes and green beans. DO NOT throw away the juices in the pot once your roast is removed. Pour that into a gravy boat or similar serving dish and set it proudly on your dinner table. The meat will not be dry, but who can say no to a little more juice?

I have leftovers in my fridge. They will keep for a few days; longer had I frozen them. What a great meal. These are leftovers I look forward to, not shy away from.

Enjoy!

Will Ferrell's trademark off-the-wall lunacy kicks in for a comedy sure to score big with the whole family! Phil Weston (Ferrell) is a mild-mannered suburban dad - who's suddenly transformed into a caffeine-fueled sports maniac when he becomes the coach of his son's unruly soccer team. But when the championship pits Phil's underdog team against the squad coached by his own domineering dad (Oscar winner Robert Duvall), it's game on for the most uproarious mismatch of the season! Suit up for fun, Ferrell-style, with the comedy Ebert & Roeper give "Two Thumbs Up!"

Recipe to make Kicking & Screaming:
Take 3 parts Mighty Ducks add equal parts of Bad News Bears and Little Giants. Mix well in a bowl and add a splash of soccer. Let sit overnight.

They even did the Flying V! Why wasn't Emelio Estevez cast in this movie? At least give the guy a cameo...

I am sorry, but I was not entertained by this movie. My expectations were low, and even they were not met. I laughed at two, maybe three parts, but that was all. More than anything, the feeling that came over me was one of anxious anticipation of the end credits. I guess if you have little kids this could be a fun movie but even in that vein I think it was still too shallow.

Will Ferrell takes over as head coach of his son's soccer team when the regular coach leaves his post. With no qualifications except being the son of a good soccer coach, he starts from square one. The lesson is not to get too competitive in sports and to always remember to have fun on the field, but they really did a poor job of relaying this message. To help teach the boys how to play well and together Ferrell enlists the aid of his father's neighbor (an NFL hall of fame coach) who brings little more to the picture than his name, but he does help Ferrell pick up a nasty addiction to coffee.

The caffeine habit Ferrell develops was absolutely pointless to the story. Not only did it not add humor, but I think it only was in the story as filler. How do you make a short movie a little longer? Why not add a few scenes in a coffee shop? I know I am reaching a bit here, but if this was an attempt to make kids not want to drink coffee I would wonder how they received funding to make this movie.

Overall the movie was not horrible. I watched it with my sister and she enjoyed it. She said she was entertained the whole time. I was not, but we can't win them all.

What kind of favor do you owe someone when you, as Robert Duvall, agree to make a movie like this? "Hi, I'm Robert Duvall, maybe you have seen one of the movies I was in. Godfather? Apocalypse Now? Kicking & Screaming?" Here is how that is acceptable: "Grandpa, will you make a movie with Will Ferrell?" Done.

Don't see Kicking & Screaming. Just let it fade into the annals of cinematic history as it if never happened. And yes, I do realize that I was far too critical of a kids movie.

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Slaying the dragon of delay is no sport for the short-winded.

I guess it is not all that often that I am very impressed with one particular professional athlete's performance. I have a tremendous amount of respect for all professional athletes (except baseball players) for the hours of training I know they put in and hard work and dedication they have exhibited towards their craft. Beyond that it is rare that any one individual can draw more of my attention. That said, Shayne Graham did just that yesterday. Yes, the kicker for the Cincinnati Bengals.

Shayne had three field goals (43,41,44) and made all four extra point attempts in the 45-37 loss to the league leading Indianapolis Colts. This, though what some may call an "above average" day for a kicker in the NFL, was not what impressed me so much. As the game drew to a close, Cincinnati kicked a field goal to bring themselves within 8 points of the Colts. With just under a minute and a half left in the game, the team was forced to onside kick.

To me there are two heart-stopping events in professional sports. Hockey's penalty shot and Football's onside kick. It does not matter which two teams are involved, the level of excitement is through the roof to watch.

An onside kick, as an effort to recover the ball for your offense is a highly skilled art. In a kickoff formation, the ball must travel 10 yards from the spot it is kicked before it may be touched by the kicking team. Once past 10 yards, it is fair game and the kicking team may recover the ball; stealing the possession from the other team. Rarely, however, is the other team fooled by an onside attempt. When the game is almost over and one team is kicking off and does not have time to hope for a defensive stop, an onside kick is inevitable. The art comes in where to place the kick. As the receiving team knows an onside attempt is looming, the guessing game begins.

Against the Colts, Graham kicked a nearly perfect pooch kick. The team overloaded the right side to show that is where the ball would go. He placed the ball just behind the second row of Colts players away from the focus. He kicked left and had it not been for a heads up effort by Dallas ClarkJ, Cincinnati would have had a great chance to recover the ball.

Flag on the play.

A holding penalty on the Colts prior to recovery of the ball gave the Bengals the opportunity to kickoff again. The problem now is that your surprise kickoff is no longer a surprise! Graham needed to try something else.

The Bengals again overload the right side of the line showing they will kick that direction. Graham kicks the ball along the ground directly in front of himself and chases after it. Knowing full well he does not have a chance to beat the Colts players to the ball instead of diving for the ball he opts instead to dive at an opposing player to disrupt his chance to recover.

A very intelligent play by the kicker to give his team the best possible chance to recover the ball was again thwarted by a big play by the Colts. Reggie Wayne dove on the ball and was able to hold on to it.

The pressure had to be intense and Shayne Graham's ability to not only perform in that situation, but also deliver a hit earned my respect. Say what you want about kicker's in the NFL or any level, but I will see at least one of them in a totally new light from now on.

Hey, I was impressed enough to devote an entire post to him. That has to mean something, right? I mean any player who takes the "screw it, if I can't get the ball I might as well hit someone" mentality is ok in my book. It may even be expected from most players, but not from the kicker.

Good show Shayne Graham. Good show indeed.

Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking by Malcolm Gladwell

In his landmark bestseller The Tipping Point, Malcolm Gladwell redefined how we understand the world around us. Now, in Blink, he revolutionizes the way we understand the world within. Blink is a book about how we think without thinking, about choices that seem to be made in an instant -- in the blink of an eye -- that actually aren't as simple as they seem. Why are some people brilliant decision makers, while other are consistently inept? Why do some people follow their instincts to win, while other end up stumbling into error? How do our brains really work -- in the office, in the classroom, in the kitchen, and in the bedroom? And why are the best decisions often those that are impossible to explain to others?

In Blink we meet the psychologist who has learned to predict whether a marriage will last, based on a few minutes of observing a couple; the tennis coach who knows when a player will double-fault before the racket even makes contact with the ball; the antiquities experts who recognize a fake at a glance. Here, too, are great failures of "blink": the election of Warren Harding; New Coke; and the shooting of Amadou Diallo by police. Blink reveals that great decision makers aren't those who process the most information or spend the most time deliberating, but those who have perfected the art of "thin-slicing" -- filtering the very few factors that matter from an overwhelming number of variables.

Drawing on cutting-edge neuroscience and psychology and displaying all of the brilliance that made The Tipping Point a classic, Blink changes the way you understand every decision you make. Never again will you think about thinking the same way.

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Hotel Rwanda

Don Cheadle gives "the performance of a lifetime" (Los Angeles Times) in this "remarkable" (Newsweek) and "profoundly affecting" (Houston Chronicle) true story of one man's brave stance against savagery during the 1994 Rwandan conflict. Co-starring Sophie Okonedo and Nick Nolte, Hotel Rwanda is "the kind of film that can change the world" (Joel Siegel, "Good Morning America").

As his country descends into madness, five-star-hotel manager Paul Rusesabagina (Cheadle) sets out to save his family. But when he sees that the world will not intervene in the massacre of minority Tutsis, he finds the courage to open his hotel to over 1,200 refugees. Now, with a rabid militia at the gates, he has only his wits and words to help keep them alive another hour...another day...

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An aspiring film maker struggles against his own personal demons as well as external forces. In his quest to make his first feature length film we see how he encounters influence of drugs, alcohol, gambling, a dysfunctional family, and his own poverty.

To raise the capital for his first movie, he decides he must complete the short he started 10 years earlier, "Coven". "Coven" is in line with the short films he has made growing up and they are all the model for the full length movie he wants to make in the future. His genre is "B" Horror flicks.

He enlists the aid of friends to help as stand in extras, stage hands and film editors. Everyone is inspired by his determination to see the project through to the end and they never give up on him, though sometimes it was not easy to stay.

I had a class my senior year of college with a kid who suggested that I see this movie. I believe his words were something to the effect of "It's awesome." I must apologize to him for I must have missed something huge, for it fell well short of the billing he gave it.

Not even I can deny the impressive nature of Mark's (our struggling film maker) character. He is so driven to make his movie(s)...that or equally as driven to not work 8-5 in the factory. His knowledge of what it takes to actually make a movie seems a bit wasted on the crew with which he surrounded himself, but you get what you pay for I guess.

I enjoyed a laugh or two at how absolutely obscene the language could be between Mark and his family and friends. I fought with my own sense of political correctness as I tried not to laugh at one character's stories of substance abuse. Truth be told, that was the funniest part of the movie, but how horrible is it to laugh at someone sharing that part of their life?

I was entertained, but I just don't think that is enough for me to suggest this as a "Watch" movie. Though something inside me leads me to believe that I might take some criticism for this one. If you end up in a situation when someone has it and wants to watch it, go nuts. But there is no need to seek it out.

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What a weekend. What an incredible weekend. I had so much fun. My thanks go out to Nick, his parents, and everyone who attended for making those few days such a blast. Nick's birthday was last week and for the occasion, his parents put on a little shindig of sorts. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that it was not just Nick's college buddies (and me the lone high school invitee), but aunts, uncles and Big Nick's hunting buddies as well. This is the actual recipe for disaster. Especially when Big Nick paired us all up. One member of one generation with one member of the other. The goal was then, to simply drink more than he with whom you were paired come Saturday night.

I was lucky enough to be able to get out of work at 3pm on Friday which got my journey underway. I drove myself to Lansing and parked at the airport. Buddy picked me up from the airport and drove me to Nick's house in St. Joseph, MI. We arrived by 7, which was in time to grab a piece or 4 of pizza, have the first alcoholic beverage of the trip, and mingle. The party bus left at 8.

What, you ask, was the party bus? Imagine a shuttle bus that may seat nearly 40 people, gut the insides, insert limousine interior. There were maybe 20 of us occupying the all leather interior on the ride down; sharing stories, snacks and drinks.

Yolanda, the driver, managed to only get us lost a little bit. In no way does that excuse her apparent natural ability to break things in Nick's bathroom, however.

After we were settled in our rooms at the hotel, we went to Nick's parents' room. This was also party headquarters for the weekend. A little of both rubbing elbows and some hobnobbing before we headed out to the bar. We went to Hangge Uppe at Elm and Dearborn. We had a decent time there downstairs. Upstairs was more contemporary music (oh...and tiny), downstairs was significantly bigger and had music from the 50s through the 90s (from what we heard). It wasn't too long before Nick decided he would rather move on. To where? Neo. He described it to me as like the club in the beginning of Blade, but it was actually rather tame. I was more than a little disappointed, but I am sure the Goth/Industrial hotspot that it is was a bit disappointed in me as well. I did have the opportunity to see a few things I hadn't before. I saw a girl ask her boyfriend if she could kiss another girl, I saw a man in a fishnet shirt, I saw a man in a camouflage miniskirt, and I saw a more full figured woman in some corset/bustier thing with a mask on. My life seems to have more meaning now. Just the two of us had changed bars, the others stayed put. So that means it was only me that Nick tried to convince to go hop the fence at the zoo. Shame it didn't seem my idea of a good time.

We met up with all of the younger crowd in the early afternoon for lunch. We grabbed a bite at some pub on the side of the road. We weren't picky at this point, they just needed to have chicken fingers. Lunch at the Exchequer on Monroe was unremarkable.

We needed to be dressed and ready for dinner by 6:30. After lunch, some of the group headed to Michigan Avenue to do some shopping; the rest of us went back to the hotel for a short nap. Our dinner reservations were for 7pm and it was excellent. I absolutely love the food in Chicago. They are most well known for their pizza, but it really is a city full of great restaurants of all kinds.

After our meal we were shuttled to Blue Chicago for a night of live blues and enough alcohol to kill a small village. We were treated to some classic motown, hip hop and blues by Willie Kent and the Gents ft. Patricia Scott until the bar closed. We did manage to have a few cocktails as a part of whatever game Big Nick had thought up. I would like to thank the Admiral for taking it easy on me. I am well aware that I did not stand a chance, and truth be told I am not one to push the envelope. As things progressed we were able to see one member of the group sink in his attempt to out drink Nick's Uncle Tim while still maintaining his attempt to hit on a girl who was clearly at the bar...with another girl. Poor Andrew, two competitions he lost that night. When the bar closed we said goodbye and goodnight to the older generation. We strapping young lads then headed back to Hangge Uppe; the night was just beginning.

It was great because now that it was after 2am, many people were going home. It was crowded when we arrived at the bar, but it then began to thin out somewhat. The dance floor was nearly vacated, which was nice when the DJ switched formats. He had been playing dance tracks, but then moved into more ballads. Songs that everyone knows the words to played for the next few hours. We all stood in a circle and yelled out the words at the top of our lungs. It may not sound like much fun, but all good times shared between old friends and new ones should end in true sing along fashion like it did in Almost Famous and Sleepers.

The bar closed at 4:30, we were back at the hotel by 4:45. I went upstairs, packed, changed out of my been-spilled-on, smell-like-smoke, worn-all-night clothes and headed downstairs to get a cab to the airport. I had a 7:15am flight from Chicago back to Lansing (where my car was waiting for me). Remember, it was Sunday now. I had class at 1pm, otherwise I would have been on the party bus's dramatic return voyage to St. Joseph later in the day.

I was afraid to close my eyes in the airport before my flight because I knew no one would come tap me on the shoulder to wake me so I didn't miss the plane. I did manage to close my eyes for part of the 26 minutes we were in the air between cities though. I tried to sleep in my car before class, but could not get comfortable.

I am tired now, but in no way to I regret any single moment of this trip. I would much rather be tired having been a part of such a weekend instead of rested having missed out. I had a great time, not just at the bar with the boys from K but with the members of Nick's family that I had not seen in so long and even the guys from deer camp that I met for the first time.

I am working on getting some of the pictures taken on the trip. I didn't take a single one; but I am only slightly disappointed in myself. Others took enough.

Good times.

He who controls others may be powerful, but he who has mastered himself is mightier still.

Normally I am not much of a fan of Italian restaurants. I often find that their menus are limited and the food is extremely average. I cannot remember having a meal at an Italian restaurant that I considered a positively memorable experience; well before we ate at La Strada Ristorante anyway.

We were staying at the Fairmont Hotel which is just a few minutes walk from the restaurant. There was no coincidence involved here, the weekend was planned (expertly I might add).

Our reservation at La Strada was for a private party. They had drinks at the bar with hors d'oeuvres before we were seated at our tables. The wait staff walked around with bruschetta, portabello strips and absolutely the biggest scallops I have ever seen, and they just happened to be wrapped in bacon. If you have never had scallops wrapped in bacon, you are doing yourself a great disservice. I will say that for some reason I actually prefer smaller scallops for this appetizer, but those offered at La Strada were still delicious.

Dinner was four courses, each enjoyable in its own way. First was the Lobster Bisque. It was served with caviar, which was a first for me. I do not plan to have it again, but the bisque itself was very good. It was also the first time I have had Lobster Bisque with baby shrimp, though truth be told I prefer it with chunks of lobster meat. Call me crazy.

Course number 2 was the Caesar salad. Simple yet I would take a Caesar salad over any other. I have recently had a few bad experiences at other restaurants which use bad Caesar dressings. That was not the case at La Strada. It was the best I have had in awhile.

The third course was my favorite. The irony is that for one who does not like Italian food, typically, my favorite course was the most stereotypically Italian. Looking at the menu online I believe we had the Cappelini Caprese. The website lists it as "angel hair pasta, light tomato, fresh mozzarella cheese". Another simple dish, but it was really very good, and the highlight of my dinner.

We finished the dinner itself with a full plate; as if we had not had enough food to this point. Filet, stuffed jumbo shrimp, potato and vegetable side dishes. My filet was really very good. I would not normally order a filet for myself, but had no complaints with the one picked on my behalf; it was delicious. I ate one and a half of the two shrimp, but thought it was a bit much. Having had shrimp in the Lobster Bisque, I had nearly enough earlier in the meal.

What would a good dinner be without dessert, right? They prepared a small sampler for each of us. We had a piece of cheesecake, a baby cannoli, a strawberry dipped in chocolate and the most magnificent mousse I have ever had. I cannot find the mousse on the website which is disappointing because I am curious to exactly what it was, and I would like to give credit where credit is due. One friend had told me on our way into the restaurant that their cheesecake was to die for, which was true, but I would take more of that mousse any day.

The menu items are more expensive, but the food and the atmosphere are worth it at least once. I would imagine La Strada is a pretty popular date spot...if you can afford it. Dress nicely.

The restaurant is located at 155 N. Michigan Ave. (312) 565-2200

A few milestones involving both me and fish eggs:

November 12, 2005: First time I tried caviar.

November 12, 2005: Last time I will try caviar.

When The Moviegoer was first published in 1961, it won the National Book Award and established Walker Percy as one of the supplest and most deftly modulated new voices in Southern literature. In his portrait of a boyish New Orleans stockbroker wavering between ennui and the longing for redemption, Percy managed to combine Bourbon Street elegance with the spiritual urgency of a Russian novel.

On the eve of his thirtieth birthday, Binx Bolling is adrift. He occupies himself dallying with his secretaries and going to movies, which provide him with the "treasurable moments" absent from his real life. But one fateful Mardi Gras, Binx embarks on a quest -- a harebrained search for authenticity that outrages his family, endangers his fragile cousin, Kate, and send him reeling through the gaudy chaos of the French Quarter. Wry and wrenching, rich in irony and romance, The Moviegoer is a genuine American classic.

It is always nice when you happen upon a good book for reasons different from usual. I was playing around on the internet, as I have been known to do, and followed a trail of "if you like this, try this....if you like that one, try this one" and that lead me to Mr. Walker Percy. The man has written a plethora of books, why did I choose this one? Why did I choose a book called The Moviegoer? I am not even going to dignify that with a response.

I liked it, but not as much as I feel I could have. I need to apologize to Mr. Percy for not giving his book the attention I feel it deserved. Weighing in at fewer than 250 pages, the book is not a long one. I think this book is best served up to someone who has the time to read this in no more than just a few days. I have been quite busy of late and have not had the time to allocate to reading. My schedule did not do the book justice. Some readers will be able to finish it in just a few short hours, I am slower; a few days is more realistic.

I found myself picking up the book and having no idea what had just happened before the last time I put it down. That is to no fault of the author. In reality the book flowed very well. I have had too much on my mind. Save this one until you have the appropriate time to read, but it was very good and I think you should read it.

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That is not just the instructions on many items of clothing, it is now my mantra. Even on nicer shirts that try to use their powers of deception to coerce me into washing them myself; they too will be dry cleaned.

Stick to your strengths. Mine lie in washing socks and underpants. I can't shrink that stuff.

Looking for my motivation to make this post? Read into it whatever you want...

It is a rough road that leads to the heights of greatness.

I have taken a good amount of flack on this topic from my family in the past few days. My mother even cut me off mid sentence during my explanation of my actions...by clucking. I was simply telling her why I did what I did, or didn't do as were the case.

"Buk buk buk buk..."

A little less subtly, she then just interrupts.

"You're a chicken."

Yeah, I got that part, mom. But why? I do not think what I had done was so bad. Decide for yourself.

Tuesday night I was wife-sitting (don't ask, it's another post all in itself). The plan was dinner and we chose an Italian restaurant in town. When seated at our table, the gentleman told us our server's name is Nick and that he would be with us in just a moment. Glancing around the establishment, as this was my first time inside, I immediately knew who our server would be. Three tables away was a young man who had been a classmate of mine.

"I know our server."
"You do?"
"Yeah, we went to school together."
"When?"
"...Elementary school."
"You remember that?"
"I could tell you not only his last name, but also his older brother's name."

So obviously I talked to him and told him who I am and how I know him, because obviously he would remember me and we would laugh like two fools reminiscing over the good old days, right?

Well, you see, no. I didn't do anything more than tell him how good the food was and thank him for refilling my water. I have not seen him in what, 13 years or so. What part of our business relationship, he as representative of the restaurant, me as hungry, made this the appropriate time to point out our former connection? We were friends then, that was a long time ago. We are not friends now, not that we couldn't be, but he was at work and the restaurant was busy.

Would you prefer that I had pointed it out as soon as he had first come to our table? Or did you want me to wait until I was walking out the door to mention it?

Please allow me to list my excuses reasons for not saying something:
1) I have what has, in some cases, been called an "above average" memory. I am often able to recall events, people and specific details from situations others cannot. Based upon this, I do not like to place myself in an awkward situation where I figure everyone remembers the things I do. Nor do I want to make someone feel slight for not remembering something I do, let alone as vividly. Why bring up a friendship that happened more than 50% of my life ago when maybe only 50% of the two of us remembers? Maybe if I had the time to refresh his memory.

2) Timing. Had I said something to him at the beginning of the meal, I feel that things may have then been awkward for the rest of our stay. So you talk for a minute about what you have been up to for the rest of your life and then before you know it he has to get back to work, he has other tables. So now, each time he comes back do you pursue further conversation? If yes, he slows down his service to other restaurant patrons and my dinnermate would get down right bored not to mention annoyed at the interruptions in conversation caused by routine food service visits. Or do you let that first conversation be the first and only and then there is an awkward silence each time he then returns to the table? Do they let crickets into Italian restaurants?

The little lady brave enough to endure dinner with me had plans to visit with family from out of town after our reservation so I did not want to delay her by making conversation as I left. Nor did I want to then have to deal with the awkward "Oh, you recognized me from the beginning, but you didn't say anything until now? Imagine the catching up we could have done during your meal."

3) I paid the bill with my credit card. A cop out, sure. But now he had my name, and could choose to bring it up if he so desired. And guess what, he didn't either.

It would have been nice to say "Hello". I can admit that, but the possibilities for things to be weird were too great. I know where he works and should be able to find him if the feeling comes over me.

I have never worked in the food industry. I do not know if saying something, anything, at one time or another would have been deemed acceptable or not.

But I have now seen him for the first time in years. He did look exactly the same....save looking taller, older, slightly heavier (happens to the best of us) oh, and I don't remember him having the 5 o'clock shadow at recess.

Maybe next time.

A woman, psychiatrist by day and best-selling author by night, gets caught up when one of her patients confides in her that he is in trouble. She promises to help him, but what can she do to make a $25,000 gambling debt disappear? Seemingly without alternative, she goes to see Mike, the man to whom the money is owed, in his club, The House of Games.

For helping Mike in a matter concerning a poker game she had interrupted with her visit, he agrees to forgive the debt her patient owes. Almost from the minute she meets him she begins a new education and a relationship develops between them of teacher and student; one with an overwhelming desire to learn, the other with a tremendous wealth of experience in the confidence game. At her request, Mike begins to teach her the ropes; a few parlor tricks at first before she finds herself in the middle of one of Mike's biggest scores.

Though the movie came out in 1987, it has only been on my radar for about two years. Back in Philadelphia, a good friend (Dr. Bob) would hold "movie night" at his house periodically. One night I had the honor of introducing the movie Confidence, one of my favorites, to the others. When it was over, I believe the gentleman's name was Bill who suggested to me that I see House of Games. It took me awhile, but I finally got around to it.

If you could not tell from the brief synopsis I wrote above, the movie is about the art of the con, grifting, the confidence game, call it whatever you want. Many movies have been made on the subject, some better than others. A few I would recommend to you are Confidence, The Sting and Matchstick Men (in that order). If you are interested in the genre, or maybe you just like David Mamet movies, I also recommend House of Games.

I do not normally like the work Joe Mantegna does, unfortunately. I do think he did very well in this movie (as Mike), all things considered. Overall the acting was pretty bad, but your primary focus should be the story which I thought was very well thought out. It does make you wonder if Mamet or co-writer Jonathan Katz had a bad experience with a psychiatrist which led to the exploitation of any parallels between psychiatry and grifting...

I liked House of Games.

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What's that? You're a sucker for any new product from the Google team, no matter how pointless? Me too!

Should I be slightly ashamed that I am such a Googlite? Maybe. Will I show you Frappr! anyway? Yes.

So the idea is that you can join a group and add your location. For example, say you browsed to the Privatjokr Frappr! Map, you would have the ability to see where certain jokers hang their hats (by zip code only) and add yourself as well.

Before you know it, we could have three whole dots on the map; me and my two readers. (I love you mom and dad.)

Danny Deckchair is the story of an atypical cement worker from Australia. Despite his occasional wild idea, his girlfriend refers to him as one of the little people. She needs a little more excitement in her life. Learning this, however by accident, sends Danny into an emotional whirlwind. He devises his next big plan: to strap large helium-filled balloons to his deckchair until he can actually lift off the ground. His plan goes awry and before he knows what happened Danny is soaring among the clouds without his means of getting back down.

Danny Morgan, now the media darling "Danny Deckchair", has gone missing after his hair brained scheme floated him away. No one knows what happened to him. They have no idea that he landed in a far off town full of people who like to live as simply as he.

The race is on, two-fold. One part is the effort by his girlfriend to find him again (since he is now big news, a somebody), and the second is by Danny to remain relatively unknown to his new friends and thus able to leave his old life behind.

Danny Morgan is played by Rhys Ifans, maybe best known for his role in Notting Hill as Spike, Hugh Grant's flatmate. If you are familiar with any of his other work, you probably are not surprised when I tell you how well I thought he did. He has a very likeable on screen presence.

I do not want to inflate anyone's expectations (pun intended, sorry), but I was very impressed by Danny Deckchair. It had been awhile since I had seen a movie I enjoyed as much as this. Fun story. Funny movie. I liked this one. Check it out.

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For a very very very long time I have been keeping the few pictures I have taken on the site in a bare bones directory structure. There are countless off the shelf applications that I could use and offer to you a more presentable format, but I have *surprisingly* been stubborn about it. I wanted to actually code my own page. I wanted to customize it and make it my own.

Well guess what, as it turns out, I don't have the time. Oh, and I am a horrible programmer.

Fast forward my frustration for weeks and weeks. Stop the tape on last week and you'll be just in time for the unveiling of my selling out.

This is and will continue to be an online repository for pictures I have taken and others I host for you since I am such a great guy. The "Pics" link in my sidebar will also take you to the gallery. More coming soon...

I hope you enjoy it.

So I forgot to post this on Friday. Maybe that was part of the plan. Perhaps it was by design that I didn't find time on Friday for this post. I take it that I have extraordinary brain power and was able to fight at least part of the memory erasing I received Thursday night as I was plucked from the bed in which I slept.

Ok, do I honestly believe I was abducted? No. But it would be pretty cool. But the basis for this is that when I woke up Friday morning I could not imagine what happened.

This is hard to picture unless you have actually seen me sleep, which severely limits the number of you who will understand fully. For those of you who haven't, I will do my best to explain. I sleep on my right side, on the right side of the bed and I clutch my body pillow like I would never sleep again if I don't protect it from harm. Yes, I have a queen sized bed and I hardly utilize the majority of the space. I am ok with that.

When I went to sleep Thursday night, as with most nights, again I found myself on my right side, on the right side of the bed, body draped around the body pillow, under the covers.

When I awoke to my alarm Friday morning, a hard-slept four hours later, I found myself on my stomach, in the middle of the bed, above the covers, freezing. For what it is worth, the body pillow remained exactly where it had been, on the side of the bed, under the covers, when I'd shut my eyes a few hours prior.

Historically I will wake up in the middle of the night when cold to readjust the blanket(s) for warmth. I cannot fathom why this did not take place last Thursday night. It is very unlike me to remain asleep when cold. Oh, and the kicker, HOW DID I GET OUT FROM UNDER THE COVERS?

Best answer I can provide myself is the conclusion I am sure you all jumped to as well.

Aliens.

Harrison Ford and River Phoenix star in a movie (directed by Peter Weir) about civilization. The movie starts as Phoenix narrates an introduction of his father (Ford). "He dropped out of Harvard, to get an education" (para.). He has a knack for anything mechanical, always inventing. Whereas he could be making millions of dollars from his creations, he works on a farm and tinkers in his spare time. One result of such tinkering is a machine that makes ice from fire, no electricity required. On a whim, he decides to head into the jungle and bring ice to societies that have never known its pleasures.

Mosquito Coast was a title once reviewed in the original forums, but lost in the hack incident. I couldn't remember if it was a positive or negative one, though I know where I will make my stance.

Charlie: My father often talked of things being revealed - that was true invention, he said. Revealing something's use, and magnifying it; discovering its imperfections, improving it, and putting it to work for you. God had left the world incomplete, he said, and it was man's job to understand how it worked, to tinker with it, and to finish it. I think that was why he hated missionaries so much - because they taught people to put up with their earthly burdens. For father, there were no burdens that couldn't be fitted with a set of wheels, or rudders, or a system of pulleys.

Harrison Ford's character could have used his intelligence and creativity to really make a difference in peoples lives, which he did for awhile. Based upon that, I think this movie could have been so much more. I do not want to go into too much detail, but I will tell you that he does become obsessed with his quest to bring ice into the jungle to be set before people who have never experienced such a thing.

Once the conflict arises about whether or not to move back to the United States the movie took a serious downturn. I was relatively entertained up until that point, but not at all after. I found myself unable to avoid feeling embarrassed for Ford's character and the way he acted. I am happy to send this movie back. Bring on the next one. It was not horrible, I just feel as though it fell short. Fell short of what, I am not sure, but it was missing something.

Let me save you the almost 2 hours of your life. Watch something else.

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In trying to remain relatively active, part of the plan is to make a more concerted effort to play more tennis. The idea came to me to try and join a league at my gym. For whatever reason I was unable to join, but my name and phone number were added to the "sub" list. In the event someone in the league is unable to make it, I may get a call to play in his stead.

Prior to yesterday I had been called three times to play, but I have been unavailable each time. I have no idea what level this league plays at, so I may not be good enough to play in this league, or maybe I am better than most of the players. If I had that information, maybe I wouldn't be worried. I really want to play, but I feel that if I keep saying that I cannot sub for people, my phone will stop ringing...

Cut to yesterday.

I get a call asking me to play at 8pm last night. The only plans I had last night were to go to the gym after work and then go home in time to watch the Pistons season opener. I tell the guy that I have no plans that would prevent me from subbing in his place, so sure I'll play. Sometimes you are on a call where you feel it rude to take your call-waiting; this was one of those times. I saw that Josh was calling, no big deal. I'll call him back. And I do...

Josh: Want to go to the Pistons game tonight?
Me: You have tickets?
Josh: Yes.
Me: Let me call you right back. I just agreed to sub in a tennis league. I have to call this guy and cancel.

And I did. I called the guy right back and told him that I was very sorry, but something came up immediately and I was thus unable to sub for him as I had originally said. I know I am a horrible person. He was surprisingly understanding of the news, but I still feel bad.

Sure the Pistons v 76ers game was the priority here, but I had told this guy I would cover for him. And I know I shouldn't feel bad because I have no obligation to this tennis league, but sometimes you just can't help it.

I try to justify my actions in saying that he was just trying to go to the game, too. It may seem ironic that the last time I was asked to sub was the day of the Red Wings opener. I think I see a pattern forming here.

So my thanks to Josh for calling and Paul for getting us the tickets. My apologies to the guy I didn't sub for and also the guy who probably didn't get to play last night since there were no subs available.

Everything would be fine if only Darko played better last night!

At work we have had a few issues with the temperature in the building. As a result of three consecutive days of 88 degrees INSIDE, the powers that be granted us casual attire. There has been no deadline imposed upon this new development, but I am taking full advantage while I am able. I am not one to wear pants...when I can avoid it.

In the choice between shorts or pants, studies have proven that 60% of the time I'll wear shorts everytime. This is not without exceptions, however.

One example is, oh say...

Jill: Do you have plans tonight?
Me: You know how I like to volunteer my time with so many charitable organizations, help old ladies across the street and get kittens out of trees for little girls...
Jill: There is a slight, and I emphasize the word slight, chance I may have suite tickets for the Wings tonight.
Me: Don't tease me.
Jill: I'm not being a tease, if they do come through I just don't want to leave it until the last minute to ask you to go. I just don't know if it is only 1 ticket for me, or if I can get my hands on 2 or 3 or 4.

:What feels like an entire generation passes; I can feel my bones growing brittle with age:

Jill: You're in. What time can you be at my house?
Me: I can be there at like 5:30, but if you want me in pants, I need more time.
Jill: I'll probably be in jeans, but pants for you would be nice. Is that a deal breaker?

Typically, ladies and gentleman, this would be a deal breaker.

"Meet me at the bar, oh and wear pants."
"I hear Paris is lovely this time of year, let's up and go right now. Oh, you don't mind wearing pants do you?"

The answer here will not be favorable. Wear pants? No thanks. And yes, I do mind. But for a last minute invitation to get to see a game at the Joe I will make the extra effort.

I had a lot of fun at the game and it is always nice to see a win. Thanks Jill.

Go Wings!