Yabba Dabba Doo - I Finally Earned My Ninja Merit Badge

Sleep deprivation is nothing to be trifled with...

A trifle is apparently something to both be trifled, and tri-filled with.  I guess it is an English layered pastry cake dessert thingy.  I'm bummed to say I have never had one. I should probably remedy that soon.

About a month ago, I found myself in the middle of a three week stint I will forever refer to in my life as the 'Bukowski weeks.'  I was only sleeping a few hours a night, and often felt like I was in a state of traumatic shock.  It was sometimes difficult to discern the conscious from the unconscious, or the tangible from the mirage.  According to my psychotherapist / mixologist / veterinarian, the imcomparable Dr Jules Quinn - Medicine Woman, this mental purgatory is a primary symptom of Bukowski-ism.  The other primary symptom of Bk'ism is an inability to remember your therapist's real name, and the last primary symptom of Bk'ism is to repeat common symptoms of Bk'ism.  The other last, last primary symptom of Bk'ism is drinking, which the sleep deprivation catalyzes, especially when performed in conjunction with the final, other last, last primary symptom of Bk'ism, which is listening to Tom Waits records, while drinking (is there any other way?).  The caboose of all other final, other last, last primary symptoms of Bk'ism is - you guessed it - blogging, or any of it's reasonable facsimiles.

I stopped at my mom's house one day to collect her water jugs to fill up at the local Your Tap Water is Poison So You'd Better Drink Our Water + (Ice) store.

I walked to the front door(s), which my mother keeps locked up as if she's hiding Jack Sparrow inside her house.  I reached for my keys, which should have been on my... key chain...

Ummmmm...   Which is in my TRUCK, which I left in..??... NO!

DRIVE!!  I turned around to see my truck heading down the street, with the front door still open...   Goof!!

After a millisecond of panic, my autonomic nervous system took over, and my head started to buzz.  I quickly scanned the potential dangers and variables ahead of me, which included:

* Light Pole.
* Overgrown mesquite tree.
* Parked car, two houses down.
* Mom's freshly watered lawn - oops, I missed this one.

I morphed into amateur ninja mode, and activated the ninja: adrenaline sprint ability.

Fred Flintstone being my body type model (don't be jealous), my freakishly small legs start churning into action, like Freddy's do when he starts off in his car to go out for brontosaurus burgers.

Hmm, maybe Fred Flintstone was a ninja.  "Must be at least a level 17 ninja," I quickly muse.  "Very powerful ki strike, used to great affect on Barney's head."

Unfortunately, when I hit the freshly watered lawn, my freakishly small, Flintstone ninja-sprinting, blurry-to-the-naked-eye feet start to spin out in the wet grass, just like in the cartoon, and I lost a valuable second catching my balance.

Halfway to the fleeing truck, but before reaching the overgrown mesquite tree hanging across the sidewalk, I realized that even in ninja: adrenaline sprint mode, I was not going to make it to the truck before the open driver's door hit the......

(loud crunchy noise, and a slammed door)

"POLE!!!!!" I grunted, as the light pole smashed my driver's door closed.  Ugh.

I dug even deeper into my Flintstone ninja sprint as the truck continued plowing forward towards battering ram target #2 ahead - the parked car...

Looming before the parked car, which I then saw was an 8 year oldish Toyota Corolla, was the large, healthy mesquite tree hanging over the sidewalk desperately in need of a trim..

The car brushed right through the mesquite branches that extended into the street without a problem.

I ninja sprinted through the mesquite branches, trying to duck and dodge the thorny spines.  I felt a 'thwack' at least once on my forehead, but in ninja: adrenaline sprint mode, I hardly cared.

Exiting the mesquite, I reach the closed driver's door of my truck.  With no time left on the clock before collision armagheddon, I had to pull off an acrobatic, all-in-one fluid move to get the tank stopped in time.

I activated the ninja: flying acrobat talisman.

For a Flintstonian like me, this is not the easiest ninja mode to activate, especially with a long Flintstone torso, a shredded right knee and an extra few (ok well, dozen or two) pounds to support.  However, with enough adrenaline coursing through my veins while in emergency action mode, it might not be a problem.

As if in an out-of-body trance, I reach out with my left hand in full sprint, pull the door open, leverage the door with a pull and ninja-dive / jump, suicide pool dive style, feet forward making a flying 'body C'.

I slammed on the brakes, landed in the front seat, and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands - all in the same ninja: flying acrobat movement.

The car lurched to a stop, the rubber wheels screeched a little, the driver's door slammed shut, and I sat there, paused and still, appreciating both the good fortune of not hitting the Corolla, and pretty proud of my Flintstone ninja skills.

I put the car in reverse after the very brief pause, and I started to back up away from the Toyota.

AS SOON AS I DID, a man comes out of the house the Corolla is parked in front of, walks up to the car as I am backing away from it, opens the door and get in.  Whew!!!   Glad I didn't have to awkwardly explain why I had just smashed the back of his little parked car in.

I wouldn't smash into a car haphazardly for at least another few weeks.

As I put the car drive and turned to go around the Corolla, I glanced in the rear-view mirror, and noticed a large mesquite thorn sticking out of my forehead.

I plucked it out with a wide Flintstonian grin...

I knew at that moment that I had officially earned the coveted Ninja Merit Badge.

It will fit in nicely between Environmental Science and Astronomy on my merit badge sash.

Yabba, dabba, doooooooo.

How to Park Ethically - a Fresh and Sleazy Review

Ahh, the end of summer approaches.  This means cooler nights and mornings, and less hiding inside.  Wait, it is already fall?  Ahh, tough to tell here in the Sahara desert.

Sometimes there is nothing like getting out and walking your dog in the evening, unless you live in the Phoenix magma chamber / metro area, like I do.  Even if the sun is DOWN, your eyes somehow burn as the hot air wafts against your face like you've got a portable convection oven centered on your head.

I have tried walking out and about with my eyes closed in the dry evening heat, but after a few sprained knees and ankles falling off the sidewalks, I gave that practice up in favor of - swimming goggles.

Swimming goggles are the only thing I have found that keep the hot air burn out.  I'm willing to risk looking like a tool, since I usually have that base covered anyway (especially lately!), but I do not have prescription swimming goggles.  Yet, anyway..  Yet.

I walked down to Fresh and Easy last night, just to check and see if cars were illegally parked in all those 'hybrid' spaces that are always empty there.  OK, so it is not illegal to park there, but it is clearly unethical.  Maybe not immoral, but certainly not kosher or even halal.  That won't stop dirty parking cheats!!

I thought I saw a friend's car irreverently parked in a Fresh and Easy hybrid space (near Walgreens, Gilbert and Guad), but needed a closer look to determine that it was indeed the friend's car before I unfairly judged them.  Tsk, tsk, tsk..  It was.  So, I left a note threatening to report him to Fresh and Easy, who will certainly suspend his Friends rewards card account.  Any.  Day.  Now.

However, I realize I can't change the unfairly biased and prejudicial parking world, especially not by reporting one sneaky little hybrid space-parker at a time.  If I catch any of you in the hybrid parking spot again, don't worry - no more Fresh and Sleazy parking attendant / slash mischief making from me.  If you see a dent in your car after parking in the hybrid spot, it wasn't me, I promise.  I might be parked right next to you in the next empty hybrid parking spot.  I'm a hypocrite, see.  Besides, isn't any vehicle really a 'hybrid' compared to say, a Model T?  Sheesh, F&S..  Take it easy!!!

One thing is for sure - Fresh and Easy is no Trader Joe's, but sometimes I think it thinks it is.  I do admit to liking to shop there, especially when I need to scavenge the 'cheap-but-no-so-Fresh-anymore' items in the discount trunk for super budget eats.  Very inexpensive.  There are some good easy consumables at Fresh and Easy (a really good caprese sammich, for example), and they have cage free eggs.  I like the 'euro grocer' feel (I believe it is a chain from Britain), and a lot of the euro food items.  I am in love with their potato / tortilla chip / cheesy poof aisle.  Wow, it is just so awesome for a 'crisp' lover.  So many good, fattening snackilicious carby treats to choose from.  I also really like the Fresh and Easy baked goods.  "C" is for (Madeleine) "cookie" (and a cafe con leche), that's good enough for me.

I have noticed some items at Fresh and Sleazy are almost identical to Trader Joe's.  I am pretty sure F&S is copying TJ's.  Maybe TJ's copies some F&S stuff, but I refuse to believe it.  I'm biased, however, because I believe the liberal media, and they are clearly in the tank for Trader Joe's.  I don't have any evidence to support this.  I just assume it is so, because I just don't quite trust stuff (especially food) this cheap that has an average shelf life of 45 minutes - on a cold day.

In the interest of continually overanalyzing and overthinking everything obsessively almost all of the time, I thought I'd share some of those 'dups' I have tried recently, and pick the 'winner' of each..

Curried Chicken Salad:
WINNER - Trader Joe's, hands down.  Fresh and Sleazy's is like mustardy muddy mayo goo.  What do they say, you first 'eat with your eyes?'  This is another time those swimming goggles could come in handy.

Serrano Salsa Fresca (TJ) vs Chipotle Salsa (F&S):
WINNER - Trader Joe's.  F&S Chipotle Salsa is good, just not as good as TJ's.  Similar texture, color, and non-chunky style, so I call 'dup', do not let the serrano vs smoked jalapeno in the name fool you.  Trader Joe's wins pretty much all the salsa wars with F&S - although F&S has a corn salsa TJ's doesn't have.  But when you can steal some pico de gallo at F&S in the 'not-so-Fresh-anymore' section for $1.50, you really have something to work with..

Powerberries (little pomegranate / acai / juicy sugar chunks covered in dark chocolate - basically, candy masquerading as 'healthy super antioxidant' treats):
WINNER - Fresh and Sleazy.  My kids prefer Trader Joe's, because they are smaller 'berries'.  I like the huge, fat, chewy F&S powerberry thingies.  Mas macho.

Plantain Chips:
WINNER - Fresh and Sleazy.  Dangit, I like the F&S plantain chips slightly better.  They are a bit crispier and seem to have more plantains in the package.  However, TJ's wins on package art.  C'mon, that monkey is so rad.  Monkey chips!  Genius!

There are a lot more 'dups' I am forgetting, but I cannot recall them right now, lucky for you.  I figure I might as well go with some macro section comparisons then...  Why are you still reading, anyway? 

We will skip the frozen and sundries sections, since TJ's cannot be beaten.

Produce - Avocado to Zanahoria:
WINNER - Fresh and Sleazy.  OK I'll give F&S this one.  They have cheap fruits and veggies, and if you find the deals, wow, you can get like 20 heads of broccoli for $.50.  They'll be bad the next day, but you can feed your family well on a fast food budget at F&S.  Plus, Fresh and Easy has more chili pepper varieties, and (yes!) Big bag of cilantro.  I hate buying the herbs at TJ's in those tiny little plastic boxes.   Rip off - and you're back in two days!  Scam alert!  Infomercial tycoon Ron Popeil must be involved in the marketing somehow.  Why do I..  fighting the urge to say...  don't want to say.... "set it and forget it!"  Argh, well played, Ron Popeil.

Meats:
WINNER - TJ's.  Trader Joe's, while not the highest quality (need free range beef and pork), kills Fresh and Sleazy here.  The F&S 'bulk' meats give the impression that you're about to get gelatinous glunk all over your hands when you open the packages.  To their credit - they now offer free range chicken, if you'd like to pay 3x normal F&E price for it.  I think this says more about the poor quality of their typical meat products than their free range chicken being overpriced however.

There is a rumor that if you leave the Fresh and Sleazy chicken in your freezer too long past the expiration date (which is one day after you buy it), you have burn the chicken instead of just throwing it away, or it reconstitutes itself as an undead chicken zombie in your fridge.  That can't be as cool as it sounds, right? 

Wine and Bev: 
WINNER - TIE.  F&S has better discounts, while TJ's has a broader wine selection.  Clearly, the cheaper booze are tough to overlook, but since I mentioned I'm in the tank for Trader Joe's, I'll just call it a draw.  At least I'm calling it a draw, right?  It is not like I'm Fox News, who will be calling the upcoming Presidential debates a 'win' for Romney, which we know is going to be impossible.  Really, Fox still will.  Maybe they'll call it a win in a 'squeaker,' which will allow them to (dis)claim some measure of intellectual integrity, and feel less guilty doing so.  Say, that reminds me..  Think Romney would ever eat at a Fresh and Sleazy?  I mean, he ripped on that local bakery in (I think) Pittsburgh's cookies.  I don't think he'd touch my chocolate dipped Fresh and Sleazy madeleine's with a 10-foot pole.  Not even the fire pole he has in his Bat Cave with a car elevator.  Wait, when did this blog become political?  Oops.  Wait, are car elevators even fodder for politics, or just politics for fodder?

Parking -
WINNER - Fresh and Sleazy.
The parking lot near Trader Joe's on Gilbert / Baseline can be tough to navigate, and you might get run over when busy.  They need a traffic cop - but he'd probably get run over, first.  That leads too too much bureaucratic paperwork, I guess.

What is good parking really worth anyway?  Don't ask me.  I always just park in the convenient 'hybrids only' spot. 

I'm still playing Asian Vaneera Ice, after all. 

Losing My Religion (and Personal Dishwasher) - Some Trader Joe's 'Easy Grub' Reviews

I recently lost my Personal Dishwasher.

My Personal Dishwasher was of course much more than just the label I am giving her for this blog entry - but it is now painfully apparent and obvious how much personal dishwashing-ness was being selflessly performed for me.

The dishes and trash (we'll just call it 'dish-trash') seem to get piled up so high, so fast it is mind-boggling - I do not even know where it all comes from.  My neighbors must be dumping their dish-trash in my kitchen when I am not home, or my daughters must be having secret high school sorority parties I don't know about.  Perhaps dish-trash itself is a self-propagating organism that replicates when you are not looking.  All this dish-trash mess, along with the small insect swarm looming over the garbage, make the kitchen look, sound, and smell like the giant trash compactor scene from Star Wars - A New Hope. 

I could swear I even saw a mucousy tentacle twitch, move, and glide away from under the rubbish the other day.

In order to avoid adding more trash to the scene, since my kitchen is not a giant compactor and I do not have C3PO to extricate me, I have had to resort to less cooking and more (and more) easy Trader Joe's meals.  Cooking not only compounds the dish-trash problem, it reminds me that I miss my personal dishwasher.  It is just not as much fun to cook anymore.

That leads me back to quick, easy Trader Joe eats.  Sometimes we just need a quick, easy, convenient fresh or frozen food grab and nothing beats Trader Joe's in that department.  Here are some of my recent eats and notes..

Rating Scale -
* - Take it BACK, or throw it out before you make yourself sick.
** - Edible, but only in a pinch.  If it is healthy, you're eating to live.  If it isn't, you're wishing you didn't have to eat it.
*** - Decent daily grind grub.  'solidly edible' for being healthy, or just tasty for not caring.
**** - Very, very good staple for fridge / freezer.  Very delicious, or, at least very tasty for still being kind of healthy.
***** - Exceptionally scrumptious.  When I'm with you baby, I go out of my head.  And I just can't get enough.


**.5 - Dark Chocolate Edamame.  I wanted to like this more, but the dry edamame lingers as grit.  Dark chocolate makes it OK tho.  More like ** but anything with edamame in it sneaks in an extra .5.

***** - Dark Chocolate Pistachio Toffee.   Ugh.  If you don't have people to share it with, you're in trouble.  There should be a warning on the container that lets you know you will gain two pounds the day after opening.
***.5 - Dark Chocolate Covered Coconut Mango Bites.  These are like gourmet Mounds candybar bites, but with some mango.  Perfect size.  Yum.

***** - Dark Chocolate Pretzel Thins.  These are more addicting than the Super Mario Brothers in 1990.  Thanks to a friend for turning me onto these, best used in conjuction with --- (next)

**** - Trader Joe's Coffee Ice Cream.   Booyah, with the prezel thins.

***** - Pear Tarte (frozen). One of the best desserts I've ever had at TJ's.  Not too sweet, not too rich, but very, very satisfying.  Must add time to the thawing directions.

**.5 - Eggplant Wrap.  Sometimes I really dig this, sometimes I just think it is ok.  If the cabbage is fresh, and I dump a lot of tahini on it, I like it.  When I let it sit in my fridge too long before eating it (expiration dates are for pansies), it is pretty much **** (two stars added for expletive effect).

**.5 - Lentil Wrap.  See, Eggplant Wrap.  Love the cumin-y lentil spice, tho.

*** - Chicken Tikka Masala (refrigerated, not frozen).  Not bad, although that is not saying a lot, really, for one of the greatest dishes on the planet.  It should get *** in almost any serving.  The basmati rice reheated surprisingly well.

As a side note, Chicken Tikka Masala with fresh, hot garlic naan is on my very short 'Pending Prison Execution Last Meal' list, along with an Entire Sushi Platter, Pho + Cha Gio Bun, REAL English Pub Fish and Chips with Malt Vinegar and Mayo and a Pint of Rogue Hazelnut Ale, almost anything with goat cheese, and Paella Valenciana.  There is good chicken tikka masala and then there is CHICKEN FRIKKAN MASALA, though, even when youa re talking about good chicken tikka masala.  I think may have something to do with the use of yogurt over cream, but I am not sure..

***** - Curried White Chicken Salad (refrigerated). WOW, this stuff is impossible to stop eating.  Currants (or raisins, not sure), shredded carrots, good texture, great blend of sweet, spice, and savory.  Simply one of my favorite things at TJs right now.  Easy to just grab and grub, even if you just need a few tasty bites, and put back in the fridge.

**** - Tabbouleh (refrigerated).  Near ****.  In fact, in retrospect, I'm changing it to ****.  I really like TJ's tabbouleh.  Pair it with any one of their pretty good batches / types of hummus and ------ (not exciting enough for a drum roll) -----

***.5 - Balela (refrigerated).  ------ Balela, a chickpea salad.  Really good with TJ tabbouleh, hummus, and pita or pita chips.  I should really give this four stars, but sometimes with chickpeas, you don't know how fresh (or farty) they'll taste.

***.5 - Middle East Feast.  Great quick grab $4 meal of hummus, tabbouleh, falafel, and pita with tahini.  Four bucks.  Who cares of the falafel is just OK when it isn't fried?  Satisfying.

*.5 - Moussaka (refrigerated).  This is one of the worst things I have ever eaten at TJ's.  The eggplant tastes like plastic, and the potato mash tastes worse than KFC's potato bud flakes.  The ground beef is very tasty, but it is difficult to pick out.  I have been told by sources who know in the past that real moussaka has bechamel, not whipped potatoes.  But they're Greek, so what do they know.  Avoid this one.

** - Mushroom and Gorzonzola Ravioli (refrigerated).  This sounds amazing, but the asparagus is as hard as wood, and this does not microwave well, unless you like woody asparagus. 

** - Butternut Squash Risotto (frozen).  OK, so frozen risotto can never qualify as anything approximating real, creamy, perfectly textured arborio-blessed risotto.  But, when you throw this together, you get a very holiday-ish, tasty, chunky, overswollen rice dish that I actually kind of liked eating with the filet roast the girls and I made with it.  Oops, maybe it was the filet roast that made it good.  Make all frozen risotto recipes better - just add a medium-rare, herb-crusted filet..

** - Pollo Asado (refrigerated).  Below average, if you like good chicken.  Not enough veggies, which are the best part in this dish.  More like a brick than chicken.  Charlton Heston trampled on hay in mud in the Ten Commandments to make this chicken.

**** - Serrano Salsa Fresca (refrigerated).  I love making my own salsa, but this is one of the best pre-made fresh salsas you will find.  It is hard to want to make fresh salsa when you can just buy it this good in plastic.  I've had it before where it was strangely too acidic, and times it was simply perfect, which is why I can't go to *****.   Thin enough for taqueria style sauce, yet 'spooney' enough for chip salsa.

***.5 - Fresh Shrimp Roll (refrigerated).  Must eat right away, but really tasty with the peanut sauce, mostly because shrimp is just awesome.  Needs more shrimp and shrimp, but the salad in the roll is good.  If you do not eat right away, the bottom where the rice paper hits the plastic container gets oozy gooey gross.  Rice paper slime is no bueno.

*** - Turkey Meatballs (frozen).  In a pinch, a quick extra virgin olive oil saute of an onion, some minced garlic, a can of crushed tomatoes, a little water (or wine), simmer and finish with some fresh basil, and salt and pepper to taste. Throw in the frozen meatballs and simmer a few minutes, and boil some pasta.  So easy, a monkey could do it (and he did).  These are pretty good turkey meatballs for dirt cheap and tasty pasta dishes, or by itself (saute some shredded carrots with the onion and garlic, a little extra water or stock, and simmer longer for a simple turkey meat ball marinara that is molto delicioso).

**** - Spanish Cheese - Tapas Trio (cheese).  Manchego, Iberico, and Cabra al Vino.  I should start by saying I am biased towards Spanish cheeses, or I guess all things Spain.  However, manchego with honey drizzle or quince paste (membrillo) is probably my favorite cheese ever, and I dare anybody to try it before they don't have manchego on their short list of favorite cheeses.  Iberico is great (also good with honey), but cabra al vino, while very good, is too similar in texture and taste in this trio to the other cheeses.  Buy some Spanish murcia al vino ("Drunken Goat") instead - you can eat the tasty wined rind, it is much more smooth and 'goaty', and is a better contrast to manchego and iberico cheeses.  This is a really good little sampler, though, especially since the cheese are already sliced into little Spanish tapas triangles.

A Disturbed Tweeker Zombie Stole My Gum....

...and then gave my truck a staph infection.... ! ? !

As I vaccuumed the dirt and lingering remains of methamphetamine, staph-infested zombie flesh particles out of my truck at one of those 'free vacuum' cheap car wash joints, I had time to reflect on how the bleep I got there in the first place..

The temperature on this particular day was about 105*, cool by Phoenix' scorching summer standards, but hot enough to do some damage if you were unwise enough to be fooling around for too long outside.  I found myself driving home from the GiantCom 'dungeon' late on a weekday afternoon.

Ahh, the office dungeon...  I go into the office consciously compelled to make an effort to interact with other fellow employees, but every time I end up there, I find myself stuck in the same dark, barren dungeon all day long, holed up anywhere I can find shelter and an ethernet patch in what is basically a mildewy, shadowy old cube farm wasteland.  GiantCom, a fake name for the huge megacorp I work for, owns a large data/call center complex in the Phoenix metro area that, for all internal and external appearance and description, was built sturdily enough to survive a nuclear holocaust.  Due to GiantCom outsourcing decay over the years, this space is now as creepy as it is empty, like something borrowed from a scene in Stephen King's The Stand.

To put a finer point on it - at any time during a typical day in the GiantCom dungeon, you would probably only be mildly surprised to have Gollum from The Hobbit show up at your desk and ask you for his precious. 

One look around this ghost town of a building and it is not hard to imagine zombies wandering the dark recesses and empty hallways.  This building would definitely make a great set for AMC's The Walking Dead. 

While training the sights of my 'air shotgun' on a lone zombie who was inexplicably careless enough to wander into my dungeon area 'kill zone' during one of my conference calls, I begrudgingly realize that the slouching, staggering, foot-shuffling zombie is not imaginary, but a fellow GiantCom walker (aka zombie / employee), cursed to wander the dungeon's recesses, hallways, and nooks in the near darkness, in madness.  This walker trudges along mumbling "coooofffeeeee" and "waaaattterrrrr," two invaluable zombie resources that are not longer provided to employees by GiantCom in order to save a few bucks.  I mercifully, yet reluctantly, lower my air shotgun.

Drifting back to the day in question, I left the office late in the afternoon and started for home.

A few miles away from the office, I saw a curious humanoid figure trudging down the street, carrying what appeared to be a kid's toy bucket and a large purse.  The humanoid was female, with dirty-blond hair pulled back into a pony-tail, and she was wearing a yellowish tank top and some white shorts that didn't seem to fit her as well as they should.

I reckoned I was probably delirious after just spending 8 hours in the dank GiantCom dungeon for what I was about to do, but it was so hot outside at the time I thought I should stop and see if I could give her a lift.

I flipped a quick u-turn and pulled into a little apartment complex about 50 yards in front of the woman, who, without breaking stride, meandered up to the door of my truck, opened it, and climbed in as if she planned on catching a ride with me whether I planned on it or not.

After I got a closer look at her, I could not help but feel terrible for this woman.  She had scars over her arms and face, and a large fresh scab on her arm. 

Once she started talking, I realized I had accidentally just picked up a dreaded Disturbed Tweeker Zombie (DTZ).  Ruh, roh..

"Thaannnnkkkkssssss," she mumbled. 

OK, stop, reader --- you can dutifully call me out for some BS here - she didn't really speak in a low, monotone, drawn-out zombie voice like that - but in order to fit the theme of this blog, she, um, now, magically (poof) *did.* 

I somewhat hesitantly ask the DTZ (YES, I am a jerk for not knowing her name - and YES, I am now a bigger jerk for making light of her disturbed, tweeking zombie-ness),

Me: "Hi there, it sure is hot outside!  You should be careful.  Where are you headed?"

DTZ: "Tooooo.... the liiight raaiilllll.."

Me: "OK, no problem.  That is only a couple of miles - wait, you were planning walking a couple of miles in this heat??"

I then notice some of the contents in her large, rope-handled, toy bucket - some weathered stuffed animals.  I wanted to see what else was in the bucket, but I really wasn't sure I wanted to get too close to this DTZ yet.

I begin to wonder whether these could be trophies from this particular zombie's previous victims, so I train my right elbow towards the DTZ and assume an 'Hacksaw Jim Duggan' attack stance while holding onto the steering wheel with my left hand.  I'm taking this defensive posture in case I need to drop a patented Hacksaw right-armed shiver across this undead creature's skull should she skulk too far over the imaginary line I had drawn across my truck's center console.  "Be Prepared," my old Boy Scout instincts buzzed.

Gratefully, this DTZ started jibbering and jabbering mindlessly (as friendlier, more harmless zombies tend to do), so I relaxed a bit.  This zombie might be crazy, but she appeared to be pretty harmless.   This story sure would have been a lot more exciting if she had really preferred to try and eat my brains or something.  I guess 'harmless' will have to do, for now. 

The DTZ mumbled on about whatever zombies enjoy rambling on incoherently about while I drove the two miles or so to the light rail stop.

When reached the light rail, the DTZ did not appear to be very keen on leaving my truck.  It might have something to do with the fact that the temperature in my truck was 74*, while outside it was a hundred-and-kill, but I would have assumed most zombies preferred extreme heat, as long as it was non-incendiary.  That might explain why the zombie was hiking miles on such a hot day like it was no big deal.  Warmer temperatures might provide relief from zombie arthritis and give zombie joints and zombie sinew more flexibility. 

"Probably why there are so many zombies in Arizona," I calculated, quite satisfied with the fact I may have almost had an original thought.

The dialogue between the zombie and I went something like this:

Me: "OK, we've reached our destination.  Have a good one and take care of yourself out there!"

The zombie paused for a few seconds, and then spoke.

DTZ: "I.... I....  neeeeeeed five roooosssseess."

Wait, whaaaat?  Roses?  Zombies....  need roses???

DTZ: "I... neeeeeed roses for my booooooyyy."

Ahhh, 'roses.' I finally got it - 'roses' were a name for insane zombie currency.  This disturbed tweeker zombie just wants some cash.  I suppose a zombie may have a difficult time sneaking onto the light rail inconspicuously.

Me: "Um, all I have are three roses."

I lied.  Why?  I have no idea.  I felt a little guilty.  Pull a fast one on a zombie for fun?  No, that would be lame.  More likely, my dino brain did not want to give her anything, but my guilty human brain spat out a random number somewhere in between five and zero that would make me feel better about myself.

Thus, an unplanned and unofficiated battle of wits began.  Zombie, vs Me.  This would indubitably be an easy blowout win for Team: Living.

DTZ: ".............."

Me: "Here, you go.  Have a good one and take ca...."

Zombie cut me off.

DTZ: "I neeeeeddd FIIIIVVVEE ROSESSSSSES!!!"

Ack. I'm losing this battle of wits with the zombie already.  One move into the match, and the scoreboard already reads, Zombie 1, Me 0. 

Me: "Sorry, there, I don't have more I can give you.  Good luck and take ca..."

Zombie notices a pack of Trader Joe's gum on my seat, and cuts me off, again.

DTZ: "oooOHHH!  GUUUUMMMM!!   CAANS I HAAAAVVE??"

Me: "Sure!  You can have a piece."

Zombie picks up the small box of gum and slides out an entire tray of gum, and puts it in her bucket. 

DTZ:  "CAN I HAAAAVEEE??"

Me: "Sure, you can have a piece- oh, um ..  ahhh, well oh, ok, go ahead then."

Zombie 2, me 0.

Then, in what would become the emotional coup de grace of my week, the zombie picks up and stares longingly at the cardboard package of Trader Joe's gum, which has an artist's rendering of a pair of smiley chompers on the cover.

DTZ: (speechless) "oooooohhhhhhh.  oooooohh.  CAN I HAAAAVVEE ITT?????"

The zombie stares, as if in a trance, at the cardboard box of gum that already has one of its two trays of chicle missing.  However, zombie lady is really more enthralled with the box than the gum now.

The moment was a strange and beautiful cutout of the human condition.  I know she was probably clinically insane, and I know she was tweeking (no way to tell which came first, the tweeking or the crazy), but it was extremely touching to me how awestruck she was, almost spiritually so, by this simple box of gum.  Not the gum anymore, but the box!

I tried to imagine what kind of treasure it would take for me to feel the same way she did about this gum box, right here, right now..  It would have to be something pretty flipping spectacular, or at least sentimentally powerful.  I was really being moved by this crazy zombie now (and a little jealous of her experience) and I shed, and then hid, a tiny little tear in front of her.

What a boob I am.  Zombie 3, me 0.

DTZ: "ITSSS.. ITSSSS A COLLEEEECCCTOR'S ITEEEEMMM!!!!!!!!!!  CAN I HAAAAVE IT???"

Me: "Yes, and thank you.  Please, take it."

The zombie then placed her new relic inside the bucket of what I now realize are probably her collection of the most precious artifacts she has in this life.  The gum sits nicely on top of what appears to be a Tigger-like tiger stuffed animal. 

Zombie 4, me 0. 

The zombie sat there quietly for a bit, and we shared a priceless moment or two.  Perhaps both of us were just in awe at what we had just experienced - for completely different reasons.

Then, the DTZ suddenly starts scratching the fresh scab on her arm.

This causes me to yelp, while my eyes widen with concern.

Me: "ACK hey there, stop, please don't do that!!!!"

The zombie thankfully listens, and stops scratching at her scab.

DTZ: (mumbling) ".... (mumble)..   yeah..  (mumble)..  staaaappphhh..  (mumble).. "

CRIKEY, did she really say something like "staaappphhh" or was it just my imagination getting the better of me??

Me: "Um bye there now, time to go please...!"

The zombie stumbled out of my truck and shuffled off to the back of the light rail ticket line, with three roses, a bucket of stuffed animals, and a precious, 'collector's item' box of Trader Joe's gum in tow..

....AFTER giving my truck its first, and hopefully last, staph infection of course. 

As I vaccuumed up the last of the rotting zombie flesh from my truck, my regenerating ego was more than happy to admit defeat.

Zombie wins, 5-0.

Meet the Asian Vanilla Ice

What the.. ?  There are already too many Vanilla Ices in the world..

This story begins with me preparing for a presentation at work, which included a trip to a barber for what should have been a simple beard and hair trim.  The simple objective was to try and look presentable for a potential video teleconference.  The conference itself would include passing 'IT trade secrets' (aka, stuff you could probably just Google, anyway) to some engineers in the Czech Republic bent on taking the jobs of my co-workers and friends (and quite possibly my own) someday.  The details of that story, Making and Sleeping in Your Own Outsourced Bed, will have to wait for another blog entry, another time.

I pulled into this new barber shop near my house, and before I could exit my truck, I was accosted by a somewhat chic, chubby, flamboyant, middle-aged Vietnamese dude named James.

"Hey, nice truck!" James says.  "How much you pay for yo cover?  I want to buy a truck and get cover." 

I had no idea at this point James was really just laying the groundwork to sell me on a haircut, but we talked about the tonneau soft cover, and I showed him how it worked.  Then, I learned that this guy was the barber when he asked, "Hey you need haircut?  Roo come inside now.  I cut you very rell."

I followed James inside his salon.

He asked me what I was looking to do with my hair, so I told him, "just a trim off the top, and the beard, please."  I let him know I was cleaning up for a work presentation the next day and needed to look somewhat professional.

He sat me down, told me "no problem man," and informed me that he was one great stylist from Beverly Hills.  He's got a certificate to prove it after all, which he then broke out to show me.  James tells me he is going to make me 'look so hot', and 'young.'  I don't think I liked the idea of looking 'young,' so much, but I assumed he just meant 'younger', since English was his second language. 

Nothing could have prepared me for what was coming.

We enjoyed a chat about Vietnamese food, his family, life and the culture in America as he zoomed around my chair checking my noggin out as if he was inspecting a questionable basket of imported Mexican produce.  I started to notice his belly keeps rubbing and bumping against both me and the chair as he flies around, but  I am not sure at this point if it is on purpose, or if he is just really into his work and doesn't notice.  I chuckle.  Bump - there's that 'buddha belly' again, against my arm.  Bink, there it is against my back.

He took out his razor, and immediately cut deep into my beard - on razor level 0!!  Noooooo!!!  It cut allmost straight to the skin, so the beard 'trim' has flown the coop for good.  I know there is nothing I can do about it, so I smile and figured I had better let James do his thing.  I didn't want to cramp his styling mojo.  He had, after all, some stylist certificate he probably printed out on his home PC. 

He proceeds to shave pretty much ALL of the beard off, except for a little asian 'mostly-moustache-but-almost-goatee' stubble.  You know the kind - really weird, like the guy's 'stache who wanders around pretending not to be involved with the business at a nail salon / asian massage parlor. 

This shave also makes my neck look as white as a stormtrooper's helmet, in contrast to my Arizona summer golfer / farmer tan. 

"Omygherd. I'm screwed," I realize.  I know as an emotional softie I just can't hurt James' feelings....  In addition, I do not want to destroy his artistic vision, especially since he isn't finished with my head yet.

"Maybe I can catch some sun and blend the tan lines a bit," I try to reassure myself, which is hardly reassuring enough.  
Suddenly, James began to chew on my hair with the clippers without any warning.  He just started shaving away the sides on razor level 1..  Once the clippers hit the scalp on level 1, I know it is all over - and I just can't stop him now.  I intuitively feel what is coming next - the infamous North Korean Dictator Side-Shave.  As he continues his madness, I can see the profile slowly forming.  It is terrifying, yet somewhat exhiliarating to watch happen in person, in the chair.  
"I am Kim Jong X" I whisper to myself.  "Powerful, yet extremely insecure."  

I figured this was all going down whether I liked it or not at this stage, and I am honestly loving this chat time with such an interesting, eclectic person, so - at this point - just let 'er rip, James, I am at your mercy!

While James continues to hack away, our rapport has apparently grown to the point he feels he can really open up with me now.  I would have assumed this was a good thing, until he asks me,

"hey you know where I find adult bookstore in Geerbert?"

James was obviously very new to Gilbert, Arizona.  I chuckle and tell him that I don't think he'll find anything like that here in 'Geerbert.'  I do tell him about Castle Boutique in E. Phoenix, which you probably can't miss if you ever drive by the area.  James excitedly scribbles Castle Boutique (or maybe it looked more like 'Casser Borteek' but I didn't peek) down on a scrap of paper.

James continues chopping and chatting away.  He then finds it seemingly appropriate to ask,

 "Hey, sometime rood you rike to watch adurt feerm with me sometime maybe?"

Really???  Did that just happen?  No, way.  No, freaking way! It really did! Now I am forced to consider whether all the belly rubbing is more than simple 'incidental contact' - but I'm not going to jump to conclusions and throw a penalty flag just yet - nor do I really care much.  This James character is priceless! 

I pretty much just ignored the question and changed the subject, but I am grossed out, laughing my tush off, and somewhat flattered in a bizarre way all at the same time.  I'm struggling to hide the belly laughs that are just aching to come out, which feels a lot like trying really hard to hold a drunk puke down.  I succeed in holding it in, for the most part, outside of a quirky little smirk that turns into a light, punchy fake cough.
James proceeds to give me the worst haircut of my life. 

Or, is it the best? 
While I am pondering this, James finishes, con gusto.

"ROOK!!!  I make you rook just rike VANEERA ICE!!!"

There is no doubt any longer.  This is the best haircut of my life.  

James deserved more than the $10 tip I would end up leaving for him.

Woooot!!  The pimp Korean Dictator / Vanilla Ice dream cut.  My imagination slips and slides between the hysterical laughter this haircut (and new stormtrooper tan line) will elicit during my upcoming teleconference - and some new, budding idea - that I could possibly have a lucrative, exciting future as the first Asian Vanilla Ice (AVI), if I would just be willing to let Calgon take me away from it all and move to SE Asia.
As surprisingly tempting as moving to Vietnam to do cheap variety TV shows and high-end karaoke gigs is to me at this strange point in my life, reason prevails.
 
"Gee.  Thanks!" I chortle in a very high voice, barely getting the words out while trying not to laugh my ace off the rather slippery barber's chair - and yes, weeing in my pants just a bit.
I do look pretty fly, for a white guy.  Maybe I need to think this through?

I start to dream, and my mouth to water, about how very, very well the new AVI would get to eat in Vietnam. 

Mmmmm.  Pass the fish sauce.