Last month I was downtown for a free outdoor concert, and afterwards I was walking down the sidewalk and past this (older) (black) lady shepherding a bunch of kids when we hear this tie-dye wearing straggly-bearded (white) guy w/sunglasses going like "Woooooooooooooooooooh!!!!! Go [band name]!!!!!!!!!!!!! Best band ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!", as he's standing on a planter on the major street median over to the left of us, which we see when we look over.
I see the lady do a double-take, and so I was like, "Yeah, they're having a series of final concerts at [name of stadium], I saw tons of people going there earlier when I biked in, it was just a sight, you couldn't imagine."
"I think I can," the lady was like, and I asked her if she meant from visualizing from that one guy, and she laughed and said yes.
Saturday, August 1, 2015
Friday, July 31, 2015
Gendered phrases that drive me crazy:
1) A high school sports team name like "the lady Bulldogs" (shouldn't they just be bulldogs?).
2) A style like "the man bun" (isn't it just a bun?).
2) A style like "the man bun" (isn't it just a bun?).
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Neighborhood Happenings: Taqueria.
The other week I was in at the neighborhood taqueria, and ran into the (Mexican) waitress who I know well and who I haven't overlapped with in a while when I've been in there.
She humors my attempts at Spanish, and we chit-chatted about how things are.
Then, when I asked her what was new, she got very very serious and started saying that she was going through a divorce, and the other waitress helped out and translated some details I didn't catch.
That whole evening, when she was over by my table, she was talking to me, and it turns out that she has 3 kids from age like 8 through high school, she had been separated from her husband for a year on trial, and that she works long hours at 2 jobs, 1 at the taqueria and 1 at the convention center.
I took the tack of the other waitress and affirmed her decision, and also suggested that she look into government assistance, which she said she couldn't do since she was "without papers" (which she further explained to mean that she has a certain type of visa with which you can't qualify for aid).
I then suggested that she look into help from a church for food or whatnot, since that aid is intended for people like her, and that she still works hard and has dignity, but that that aid would let her spend more time with her children as a parent.
When I left, I was talking with the other waitress after I paid up my check, and she said that the divorce news was very fresh, since it only happened two days earlier.
"She's really bummed about it," the other waitress was like. "I was telling her that the first time is always hardest, but she's still having a bad time."
She humors my attempts at Spanish, and we chit-chatted about how things are.
Then, when I asked her what was new, she got very very serious and started saying that she was going through a divorce, and the other waitress helped out and translated some details I didn't catch.
That whole evening, when she was over by my table, she was talking to me, and it turns out that she has 3 kids from age like 8 through high school, she had been separated from her husband for a year on trial, and that she works long hours at 2 jobs, 1 at the taqueria and 1 at the convention center.
I took the tack of the other waitress and affirmed her decision, and also suggested that she look into government assistance, which she said she couldn't do since she was "without papers" (which she further explained to mean that she has a certain type of visa with which you can't qualify for aid).
I then suggested that she look into help from a church for food or whatnot, since that aid is intended for people like her, and that she still works hard and has dignity, but that that aid would let her spend more time with her children as a parent.
When I left, I was talking with the other waitress after I paid up my check, and she said that the divorce news was very fresh, since it only happened two days earlier.
"She's really bummed about it," the other waitress was like. "I was telling her that the first time is always hardest, but she's still having a bad time."
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
2 (black) bars (2 of 2): Recipes.
At the next bar of the night, I lock up my bike and pop into this bar with (older) (black) folk in it, and 2 (late 60s) (black) women sitting right by the entrance immediately ask me why I was there, since what the heck was I doing in that neighborhood.
I tell them I was on an evening bike ride, and one immediately was like, "God has to walk with all of us, in this neighborhood."
Then, we started chit-chatting, and one was saying she had just made tequila-lime shrimp as a present for her man, for being together 15 years, and started giving details of cooking with the cream, citrus juice, etc.
Since the bartender had sidled up, she immediately starts showing her pictures of the shrimp on her phone, and I tell the other one that if I had to do that recipe, I'd fuck it up, since I'd cook the cream too hot or curdle it with the citrus juice.
Then, she starts telling me how she makes ground turkey with ginger, and how she likes spices in her cooking.
After that, she starts saying that the other week she was over at her older sister's, who can't cook, and she served up the best something-or-another, and she asked why it tasted so good, and her sister said it was the broth.
"And do you know the secret of the broth?", her older sister was like.
She didn't, and it turned out to be chicken feet.
"I see that look," she immediately told me, since I guess I had an involuntary look of disgust on my face when she said the secret was chicken feet. "I did the same thing, too!".
After that, her friend rejoined the conversation, and I told about the time my friend dated a Catalan guy and she was the "good girlfriend" and had to suck liquefying pig's hooves from a stew he spent all day over.
"And a month later, too, they broke up," I was like, "So it was all for nothing."
"It's 'cause she was a foo'", the woman's friend was like. "It wasn't a recipe, it was a test to see if his girlfriend was a foo'. She didn't pass."
I tell them I was on an evening bike ride, and one immediately was like, "God has to walk with all of us, in this neighborhood."
Then, we started chit-chatting, and one was saying she had just made tequila-lime shrimp as a present for her man, for being together 15 years, and started giving details of cooking with the cream, citrus juice, etc.
Since the bartender had sidled up, she immediately starts showing her pictures of the shrimp on her phone, and I tell the other one that if I had to do that recipe, I'd fuck it up, since I'd cook the cream too hot or curdle it with the citrus juice.
Then, she starts telling me how she makes ground turkey with ginger, and how she likes spices in her cooking.
After that, she starts saying that the other week she was over at her older sister's, who can't cook, and she served up the best something-or-another, and she asked why it tasted so good, and her sister said it was the broth.
"And do you know the secret of the broth?", her older sister was like.
She didn't, and it turned out to be chicken feet.
"I see that look," she immediately told me, since I guess I had an involuntary look of disgust on my face when she said the secret was chicken feet. "I did the same thing, too!".
After that, her friend rejoined the conversation, and I told about the time my friend dated a Catalan guy and she was the "good girlfriend" and had to suck liquefying pig's hooves from a stew he spent all day over.
"And a month later, too, they broke up," I was like, "So it was all for nothing."
"It's 'cause she was a foo'", the woman's friend was like. "It wasn't a recipe, it was a test to see if his girlfriend was a foo'. She didn't pass."
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
2 (black) bars (1 of 2): ID problems.
So the other week late on a weekday evening when it was still light out, I finally went to this (black) bar that I've seen forever but has always scared the sh*t out of me, this one on a bad strip next to a liquor store in the city's most violent neighborhood.
I locked up my bike to a door grate at the nextdoor mechanic's, said hi to the (older) (black) (female) junkie who was standing out by the bar door, and headed in, only to find a low-key place with tons of older people (which figures, since most bars don't want young people, who just cause problems, though a couple times I had biked by there late at night and there were long, long lines of young people waiting to get in, like for a nightclub or something).
Anyhow, I sit down, and when the (older) (black) female bartender comes up, she asks me my age, then my birthday.
She doesn't believe me (!), and when she takes my license, she looks at it close, and says it doesn't look like me.
Finally, she calls over this (old) (black) guy, who picks up my license, and is like, "That's him!", and then goes back and sits down.
"If the boss says it, it must be true," she's like, then asks me what do I want do drink.
When she comes back with my beer, I asked her old she thought I was, and she said that if she had to guess, she'd say 20 (!!! - I'm 35).
...
I locked up my bike to a door grate at the nextdoor mechanic's, said hi to the (older) (black) (female) junkie who was standing out by the bar door, and headed in, only to find a low-key place with tons of older people (which figures, since most bars don't want young people, who just cause problems, though a couple times I had biked by there late at night and there were long, long lines of young people waiting to get in, like for a nightclub or something).
Anyhow, I sit down, and when the (older) (black) female bartender comes up, she asks me my age, then my birthday.
She doesn't believe me (!), and when she takes my license, she looks at it close, and says it doesn't look like me.
Finally, she calls over this (old) (black) guy, who picks up my license, and is like, "That's him!", and then goes back and sits down.
"If the boss says it, it must be true," she's like, then asks me what do I want do drink.
When she comes back with my beer, I asked her old she thought I was, and she said that if she had to guess, she'd say 20 (!!! - I'm 35).
...
Monday, July 27, 2015
An online recipe I'll never do again:
Leftover sauerkraut juice with chopped up green onions, as a cold soup (seared dry hot pepper omitted).
It was so salty and strong and onion-y, that a big bowl did use up all the leftover sauerkraut juice, but it also made me sick.
Instead, I think I'll add in juice as a substitute for some water when cooking rice, since that's tastier and w/no apparent negative effects on my stomach, though it does use up a lot less leftover sauerkraut juice.
I also may try to use some juice in homemade salad dressings.
It was so salty and strong and onion-y, that a big bowl did use up all the leftover sauerkraut juice, but it also made me sick.
Instead, I think I'll add in juice as a substitute for some water when cooking rice, since that's tastier and w/no apparent negative effects on my stomach, though it does use up a lot less leftover sauerkraut juice.
I also may try to use some juice in homemade salad dressings.
Sunday, July 26, 2015
4th of July Memory: Maimed rat.
So this 4th of July, I brought to my friends' bbq a bunch of homemade sauerkraut and a bottle of rum to make rum-and-cokes.
Before heading out there, I popped into 1 of the 2 local chain drugstores in my neighborhood, to pick up a bottle of Diet Coke for the rum-and-cokes.
As I went out and was unlocking my bike, I saw something moving slowly by the curve, and occasionally stopping and looking up:
It was a young rat, and I noticed it wasn't looking up over the curb and scoping things out so much, as getting its front legs up on the curb and actually not being able to move up and over the curb.
I moved a bit closer, and could see that its back left leg seemed relatively immobile.
Before heading out there, I popped into 1 of the 2 local chain drugstores in my neighborhood, to pick up a bottle of Diet Coke for the rum-and-cokes.
As I went out and was unlocking my bike, I saw something moving slowly by the curve, and occasionally stopping and looking up:
It was a young rat, and I noticed it wasn't looking up over the curb and scoping things out so much, as getting its front legs up on the curb and actually not being able to move up and over the curb.
I moved a bit closer, and could see that its back left leg seemed relatively immobile.
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