Charlotte

San Francisco

I arrived in SF on Monday night. My friend, Luxe, lives in the Mission district. Tuesday was just about a perfect day. I awoke early and went for the run up and down Dolores Avenue. The hill work was intense and I was mad proud of myself. I earned the many pastries that followed at Tartine Bakery. Luxe, Kelly and I took the MUNI to North Beach. We visited City Lights book store. Louis Armstrong was playing as I browsed both floors. I bought a graphic novel before heading to the Rouge bar for homemade beer. My friend, Sadie, met up with us from Oakland. We had to eat at my favorite chinese restaurant, House of Nanking, before leaving North Beach. The food was outstanding. We ordered a variety of dishes and shared. This is key at House of Nanking because if you order similar dishes, the owner will yell at you for being an idiot. We made our way back to the Mission district with full bellies. Kelly and Luxe needed a nap. Sadie and I kept going and walked all over the mission district. We stopped for pancakes and waffles at the Baghdad Cafe. Hella good! After three hours of walking, we made our way over to Oakland, but not before stopping for tacos. The tacos weren't outstanding but Mexican food is kinda like bad sex. Even when it's bad, it's still satisfying. Avi, Sadie's brother picked us up at the BART station. I finished the night with a beer at the Avenue Bar where two Beastie Boys songs played.

Baked Fat Attack

I've been extra hungry all weekend. While perusing the Boston Globe on Saturday, I read an article about a Vietnamese sandwich called Banh mi. A fusion of French and Vietnamese cuisines served on a crusty baguette with ham, mayonnaise, and pickled vegetables. The article nearly had me drooling and I had a new goal for the day - eat a Banh mi. Luckily for me, one of the recommended restaurants is located near my gym. The Super 88 is an Asian grocery chain that also has a food court. I've never been to a Super 88, though I've driven by the Dorchester location many times on my way to Target. I walked through the grocery store first before hitting the food court. The store is huge with Asian imports of all kinds. It was a little overwhelming, but I know where to go now if I want to make a specialty Asian dish in the future. In the food court, I found Pho Viet's and ordered a Banh mi with ham with a side order of spring rolls and an Orangina. The sandwich hit the spot! I plan on going back to the food court in the near future. The bowls of pho looked outstanding.

I didn't accomplish much more than a sandwich quest that day. Today proved to be just an mundane. After running twelve miles at the gym, I was hungry for anything salty. I came home and ate a salad, chicken soup, and trail mix. By 6:00pm, I was was craving baked fat. I went on chowhound and yelp for bakery reviews. Nothing is open in Jamaica Plain on a Sunday evening except JP Licks. I don't like JP Licks very much. Their ice cream is too expensive and their baked goods are stale tasting. The first time I saw the ice cream chain, I asked the realtor who was driving me around Jamaica Plain if it was a lesbian bar. I found positive reviews about Athan's Bakery in Brookline. I decided to try it even though I risked losing my coveted off street parking spot. I was pleasantly surprised by its light interior and display cases. It seemed like a nice place to take a close friend. I chose the signature pastry, the Bolero, a miniature chocolate mouse and sponge cake covered with an almond ganache. I also sampled three of their cookies. The cookies were dry, which I happen to like since I was raised on my grandmother's Shoe Fly pie. My grandmother's shoe fly was not the wet bottom variety, but a dry rich molasses cake baked within a pie shell. I live for toasted breads, flaky crusts, and crackers. The Bolero was enjoyable, but I wish I had chosen the baklava instead. Maybe next time. The next bakery I aim to try is the Modern Pastry Shop in the north end which is known for its ricotta pie.

Zen

My friend, Grant, texted me last night with the message, "Rumor @ 11:30." He wanted to introduce me to friends of his that he thought I would like. Grant had told me of two African American gentlemen that he was sure I would drool over. I was already in bed and contemplated getting up to go meet him. Rumor is an upscale nightclub with $12 gin & tonics, house music, and fashionably dressed (mostly white) people trying really hard to get noticed. I laid in bed for twenty minutes thinking about the snowy weather, the lack of parking, the red velvet guarded line, and my lack of slutty club attire. I really don't have anything to wear to clubs. I'm always under dressed and simultaneously amazed at the lengths women go to look cheap and ashamed that I still don't know how to use an eye pencil or hair rollers. This is an oddity since my mother was a licensed hair professional and wouldn't leave the house without her hair coiffed and make-up applied no matter what. When I required stitches after ramming my wrist into the front door window pane, my mother wrapped my hand in a towel and made me wait as she cried intermittently between guilt inducing stares and applying make-up. I decided to stay home. I don't often stay awake past 11 pm unless I have insomnia. The morning brought serene snowfall. It is really beautiful in Boston this morning.

Sex tapes

Gawker had a post about making your own sex tape in lieu of the recent premiere of yet another celebrity sex tape, this time starring Gene Simmons. A three step process is all there is to consider before hitting the red button. Lasting advise: porn is forever. I watched two short clips of the Gene Simmons sex tape and I was wildly unimpressed. It was about as exciting as watching two slugs hump. The bousite wearing woman was obviously a hooker and just going through the motions. Every time Gene went in for a kiss, she averted her face. We all know what Laura San Giacomo taught us girls in Pretty Woman. You never kiss the johns. Sadly, Gene Simmons' reality show promotes the image of Gene as a rock-n-roll bed buccaneer. I think they are going to need a new marketing scheme.

All these sex tapes have got to put a real damper on porn actors and aspiring entertainers. Just as celebrities killed the era of the super model, will the Jenna Jameson's of the world soon be out of work? Will the slow death of the celebrity now include drug abuse and rehabilitation, reality television shows, nude photo shoots, where-are-they-now rag features and exploitative sex tapes? I think the sex industry should start using B-F celebrities for their own lucrative means. We have reality television shows about making celebrities, detoxing celebrities, slimming celebrities, and celebrities doing their laundry. Why not recruit celebrities for reality sex camps, naughty cooking shows, and dormitory shows with real sex? After watching Gene Simmons in action, it's apparent that the man needs a sex coach or at the very least a can of Jolt. Everything 80's is big now and returning to the big screen. I think the little screen needs Demi Moore, Grace Jones, Morgan Fairchild, and Markie Post in an all girl's dormitory.

For broke ass ramen eatin' college kids

As I was driving into work this morning, I caught an interview with Coolio (you know - Gangsta's Paradise) on Jamin 94.5. Coolio was promoting his cooking show, the Ghetto Gourmet. I have to admit, Coolio was pretty funny. I have new entertainment at lunchtime. New episodes every Wednesday.

"This here is steak. This is not a prime cut of meat. It's not a choice cut of beef. It's not a Colby steak. This is some bull shit."

Brilliant.

Post-Flu

According to a recent Boston Globe article, the flu is rapidly spreading across New England. The strain used in this year's vaccination is doing very little to curb its migration. I neglect to get vaccinated every year. I have a healthy immune system that has stood up to high school students and musky buildings. Unfortunately, my streak of good health was ruined last Friday by a contagious cough that had recently blanketed the school with its misery. I don't believe I had full blown influenza, just a moderate cold that left me exhausted. I spent the weekend in bed faithfully taking Tylenol Sinus and Severe Cold every four hours. I have a residual stuffing nose and a wheeze when I deeply inhale. I am luckier than most.

Last night, I was speaking to my twin brother about a vodcast I had watched from iFanboy.com. The three fanboys shared their appreciation for one of my favorite artists, Alan Davis. Alan Davis drew several X-Men titles, including one of my favorites, Excalibur. Not only did Excalibur include Kitty Pryde, my all time favorite comic book hero, but a great team ensemble that included Nightcrawler and Rachel Summers as Phoenix. His art is elegant, clean, but approachable. My brother and I shared our picks for this week. According to Christopher, I am supposed to be excited that Bucky is the new Captain America, but this passing of the iconic shield doesn't inspire me to purchase the book. Why kill a cold war figure and replace him with another cold war figure? We were discussing Fantastic Four and Mark Millar's arrival when our conversation was interrupted. Here's how it went...

Julie: Who gives a shit about Bucky? I'm not buying it.

Chris: You better pick that up for me.

Julie: Dude, why do I have to buy it?

Chris: You know I can't get out...Oh, and pick up Fantastic Four because Mark Millar from Wanted is writing it now. And, you forgot to give me my Buffy's when you were in last you stupid whore.

Julie: Yeah, I know - I'll send them to you.

Chris: Hold on...Diane is asking me a question...No, you don't have meningitis...

Julie: She thinks she has meningitis?

Chris: She has a headache and her neck is sore...Diane, you don't have meningitis - you have a cold.

Julie: Her lymph nodes are probably just inflamed.

Chris: Julie, I gotta go. I gotta take care of Diane...Later.

Like I said, I am luckier than most.