Hot sauce

I've been travelling to Pittsburgh for work each week.  There aren't any kosher restaurants near our hotel or our client site, so I have kosher packaged meals delivered to the hotel at the start of each week by a local kosher caterer.  The hotel main kitchen keeps them in a fridge for me, so I simply go pick it up each night when I want dinner.  Not too complicated, and relatively convenient.

However, the food itself is...not so interesting or diverse (to say the least.)  It's not bad, though. It's just....not unbad.  Mainly, the caterer just doesn't have a very creative culinary mind, and so I usually end up with basic grilled chicken for dinner and veggie wraps for lunch.....every day, every week.  (In the caterer's defense, though, he makes an awesome chocolate brownie, which I also have every day, every week.)

Anyway, I've tried to ask for different types of food from the caterer in order to improve my meal experience.  But this has generally failed.  So, instead, I've settled for another method of improving each meal....

Hot sauce

I put hot sauce on almost every meal that I get from this caterer.  Frank's Red Hot, Tobasco, Louisiana... You name it.  I've had it.

Anyway, a few nights ago, I go to pickup my packaged meal from the hotel's main kitchen.  The chef hands me the package, and I ask him if I can have some hot sauce.  There are few bottles of Tobasco right on the counter, so I'm expecting him to hand me one of those.  But instead he pulls out a little plastic container and pours a bunch of hot sauce into the container.  More accurately, he fills the container to the brim with hot sauce...with no lid of any sort.


So now I'm holding my kosher meal package, and an open container of red hot sauce filled to the brim.  And I'm wearing my backpack and pulling my suitcase behind me.  It's a juggling act.  A delicious spicy juggling act.  I'm thinking this will probably end badly.

I start walking to the elevator to head up to my room.  If I had thought things through, I would've spilled out some of the hot sauce in the trash can before trekking up to the room to eat, but I didn't think of this until too late.  (However, the thought of sipping some of the hot sauce from the container did cross my mind.  I didn't end up doing that, and I still haven't decided if that would've been wise or not.)

Despite having my hands full of kosher food and hot sauce and suitcase, I somehow push the elevator button to go up to my room.

Ding!


I walk in...and of course, there is a guy already in the elevator.  I shuffle into the elevator, careful not to spill the hot sauce.  (It would've been funny if I had tripped and thrown hot sauce on him, right?  Yeah, that would've been hilarious.  Sighhhh.  Good times.)

Anyway, I'm pretty sure he gave me and my balancing act a funny look, and I just wanted the elevator ride to be short and quick so I don't have to embarrass myself further. (Because we all know how ashamed I am of these ridiculous situations.)

Well, of course, it gets even worse because I suddenly realize that the button for my floor is already pressed!  He was going to the same floor as me!!


So I stand there quietly with this guy as the elevator goes up and up.  I was considering trying to break the silence with a joke or something ("Excuse sir, do you have any Grey Poupon?"), but ultimately decided it would be best to prolong the awkwardness as long as possible.


Ding! Elevator arrives at my (our?) floor.  The guy gives a quick look at me to see if I'm getting off first, then realizes I'm not going anywhere all that quickly without spilling my precious hot sauce.  So he gets off and starts walking down the hall.  I do the same....and realize he's going the same direction as me.  I'm thinking he must have the room adjacent to mine (because that's just how these things work out for me.)


In the end, his room was not that close to mine, so he didn't see the miraculous way in which I opened my door without spilling anything.  (It was quite impressive, in my humble opinion.)


And that is that.  I sat down at the desk in the room, ate my dinner in peace, and savored the hot sauce that I worked so hard for.

Ice cream - Stiebel style

Got ice cream last night.  Had a lot of topping choices.  This is what I ended up with.

I swear there is ice cream somewhere in there.

In case you were wondering, that is Dark Chocolate ice cream, topped with chocolate chips, coconut, and Fruity Pebbles.  Oh, and sprinkles, too.  Ya can't go wrong with sprinkles.

Hannukah

(This story happened back in November/December during Hannukah, but I just got around to writing it up now.  Enjoy.)

So I leave work late on a  Monday night during Hannukah, and I only get back to my neighborhood in Lakeview around 11 o'clock at night.  I've been travelling a fair amount for work, and I'm glad to be getting back to my apartment.  But suddenly I remember that I need to light candles for Hannukah tonight.

All I need is a menorah, some candles, and a match.  Pretty straightforward.  (Candles go in the menorah, you light the main candle with a match, then light the rest of the candles from the main candle. Simple, yes?  Understand?  Good.  Okay, moving on.)

I'm almost to my apartment when I realize I don't have a menorah or candles or matches or anything.   (I had been travelling for the previous week, and I hadn't been in my apartment for a while.  I had been lighting candles in other places.)


So I quickly hop off the bus a block early and run into Walgreen's, hoping they have stuff I can use to light candles.  But all I find is a box of birthday candles.  Those will do, but I can't find matches or anything resembling a menorah to put the candles in.  No worries, I realize.  I can create a makeshift candle-holder from some aluminum foil and light the candle from my gas stove.  Brilliant!


So I buy the candles and head home, feeling pretty clever about my plan.

But when I get home, I suddenly realize....No aluminum foil in my apartment!  Menorah FAIL!


It's already really late and cold, and I don't want to go back outside to get foil.  So I start looking around for something else to hold the candles.  It needs to be sturdy, but I need to be able to put holes in it to put the candles in.  Hmmmm.... What could I possibly use????

After a minute, the answer was obvious.....

CARDBOARD BOX!  (Duh)


I know what you are thinking.  Cardboard boxes and fire don't mix.  But if handled by a professional (such as myself), then they are perfectly suitable for a makeshift menorah.  (Trust me.)

So I took a small sturdy cardboard box, poked some holes in it, and set up the candles.  Realizing that there might be a slight fire hazard, I placed the box in a wide Pyrex glass pan filled with two inches of water.  And then I poured a bunch of water over the box itself to make it wet, so it would be less flammable.  (Brilliant, right?  I know, I was pretty impressed myself.)


Next step = Lighting the main candle.

I walk over to my gas stove, turn the dial and....nothing!  The pilot light is out!  Foiled again!

So now I don't have any fire to light the candles.  O, woe is me!  What is a nice Jewish boy to do?!

So I start racking my brain to think of what I might use to light the main candle, when I get another brilliant idea....

My toaster oven!


My toaster oven has a metal coil that gets red hot to heat food.  If I turn the toaster oven on High, I should be able to touch the candle wick to the coil and light it on fire.  Right?  Sounds like a good plan.

So I turn the oven on, wait until it gets red hot, then stick the candle wick onto the coil.  Here's a summary of what happened:

1) I burned my hand  (Who knew that sticking your hand into a toaster oven on High was a bad idea?)
2) The candle starts melting before the wick lights on fire.  (Melted candle wax is not something you want in a toaster oven.  FYI.)
3) I started to realize how funny this story was becoming.

Anyway, after I couldn't light the candle directly in the toaster oven, I start thinking about alternatives to lighting the candle.  I definitely wanted to use the toaster oven, but lighting the candle directly was not working.

Again, the answer was obvious....

Paper towel!


So I roll up a small piece of paper towel, stick it against the toaster oven coil, and POOF!  I have made fire!!  So I quickly use the lit paper towel to light the main candle, and Success! I can now light the rest of the candles.

Well, there is still one more problem...paper towel burns really quickly!  And blowing it out doesn't quite put out all the embers.


So I have a lit candle in one hand, and a smoldering piece of paper towel in my other hand giving out more and more black smoke.  This is not a good situation.

But then I remember about the Pyrex full of water!  So run over to the Pyrex and throw the burning paper towel in there.  FINALLY, I have no more obstacles between me and a fully lit menorah.

So I go ahead and finish lighting the candles and step back to enjoy the sight...

Just like God intended

So that's my story, folks.  Crazy? Perhaps. Typical for me? Probably.

PS.  One more thing.  About a half-hour after I took the above picture, the cardboard box lit on fire (surprise surprise), and I had to put it out with water.  But that's just a side story.  Not that interesting.

Potato Gun

"My potato gun shoots 400 shots per potato."

Artwork in Pittsburgh

Does a bear sh*t in the woods?

Not if it's bronze and 6-inches tall.

Apparently those bears sh*t in the bathrooms of upscale Pittsburgh sports bars.

Paranoid in a client meeting

So I'm in a client meeting earlier today, about 8 people, mostly managers from the client, along with my own boss and supervisor.

I'm sitting towards the end of the long table, with one of the managers sitting one seat away from me.  We're listening to another manager giving a presentation from his seat towards the middle of the table.  (Is this making sense?)

Anyway, I suddenly realize that me and the manager sitting next to me are in the exact same seated position.  We both have our right leg crossed over our left leg, our right arm resting on our right leg, and our left arm propped on the table, with our hand resting on our chin.  Identical body positions.  Uncanny.

For some reason, I feel like this is improper professional etiquette on my part.  Or maybe I just thought the other managers would think it'd be funny if they saw us sitting like that, same position, right next to each other.

So I move my right arm down against the table so that we don't look alike.  But then a few seconds later, I sub-consciously move my hand back against my chin.  Back to the same position as the other guy!  As soon as I realize that I'm sitting like that again, I quickly move my hand down again, trying to make sure I don't move it back.  But after a few seconds, sure enough, I move it back again without thinking.  It's simply the most comfortable position for my arm and hand.  I can't help it!

But I'm so self-conscious sitting exactly the same as this other manager.  I'm certain that some of the other people at the table are noticing us, thinking it's hilarious or weird that we look identical.  I was certain they were sneaking glances at us.  And for some reason I kept thinking it was my responsibility to change.  (And no, I never thought to tap the other guy on the shoulder and ask him to move his arm.  That would clearly be the wrong thing to do in this situation.)

Anyway, lucky for me, after a few minutes, the other guy changed his own seating position to something totally different.  And thus, I was free!

On the bus

Riding on the bus in San Francisco, this guy was sitting across from me.

I guess all the stereotypes about San Francisco are true...

you know... the ones about taking vacuum cleaners on public buses.

Crazy hilarious dream

I took an extremely refreshing nap this past Saturday afternoon.  One of the reasons it was so great was the ridiculously long and complex and hilarious dream that I had.  Here is the summary.  And yes, it was about as incoherent as described below.

I'm in some 3-bedroom apartment with two roommates (who are actually just good friends from college who live in San Francisco.)  We are talking with the old apartment owners about how to arrange the apartment, and all I can think about is where to mount my TV.

Then the three of us leave the apartment and decide to go to the casino.  We walk onto this ferry boat and see some young men and some kids breakdancing for money.  I ask one of the guys if he krunk dances, and he shows me some moves.  Then he launches into a tirade about how rappers have stolen a particular krunk move of his which is called Angry Angry Alligator.

Then this girl walks by, and I decided to do some sleight-of-hand magic for her.  But when I try to do my disappearing-napkin trick, she gets obsessed with my hands and won't let go of my hands.  She just won't stop staring at my hands.

Then she gives me a big kiss and disappears.  I then realize that there are all these security officers looking for her, and she had used the kiss to distract them and run away!  But then we spot her swimming away, but *she* is actually the Hamburglar!  (For some reason, this revelation did not seem unusual during the actual dream.)

The Hamburglar then climbs back on board and runs and jumps into an escape tube down into the depths of the ship.  I follow him down the tube, but then I get stuck standing up in a narrow sewage pipe, with Nickelodeon goop up to my neck.  Then the dream turns into a PBS documentary about how it's important to stay calm in these situations.

Then I realize the sewage pipe full of goop is actually the inside of a post-office mail room where everyone checks their mail.  So every few seconds, a little window opens up into the sewage pipe as someone checks their mail from the outside, but I'm never quick enough to call out to them to let me out of the pipe.  (I don't know if this description actually makes sense to anyone outside of my own brain, but it was a perfectly reasonable situation when I dreamed it.)

Anyway, then I woke up and laughed confusedly for about 20 minutes.

Correct change

A few weeks ago, I needed to do laundry, but I didn't have enough quarters for the job.  It was ~9 pm and freezing outside, so I didn't want to go outside to the drugstore to get change.  Instead, I scrounged around my apartment and found enough change for the laundry....but it was all nickels and dimes!  Not a single quarter!

But I'm desperate to do laundry (I was flying out to Buffalo, NY the next morning.)  So I decide to go across the hall of my apartment building and ask my neighbor for quarters.  Slight problem, though....I have never met my neighbor before.  I know he's married and has 2 young kids, but otherwise, I've never met him or spoken with him or anything.

Anyway, I grab all the nickels and dimes, cross the hall, and knock on his door.  He answers.  I explain the situation, and ask him if he has $1.50 in quarters in exchange for $1.50 in nickels and dimes.  He seems a bit rushed to put his kids to bed, but he says it's not a problem.  He has the quarters.  He goes back inside, comes out a minute later, takes my change, and drops a short stack of quarters into my hand.

I don't want to be rude and count the quarters in front of him, so I just say thank you a couple times and walk back to my apartment.  All set.  No problems, right?

Then I count the quarters....

He gave me one too many quarters!  I gave him $1.50 in change, but he gave me $1.75.  But because I didn't count it right away, I didn't realize his mistake until I was already back inside my apartment.

Now, if it had been the other way around and he had shortchanged me by a quarter, I would not have cared at all.  As long as I had enough for laundry, I was fine.  But how do I know what he thinks about his quarter?!  He probably doesn't care.....but what if he did care?!  I don't know the guy.  He doesn't know me.  But I don't want his first impression of me to be "that-Jewish-guy-across-the-hall-who-steals-quarters."  Seriously!

I consider knocking on his door again and giving him back the quarter, but I've already annoyed him once tonight, and I also don't want to make the impression that I'm that annoying guy with OCD across the hall who cares about every cent.  You should not annoy your neighbors.  Period.

So I'm standing in my apartment, quarters in hand, pondering what to do:

• If I don't give the quarter back, I would feel guilty and possibly get a bad rep from my neighbor.
• If I do give the quarter back, I risk annoying him and his family...and also getting a bad rep.

I'm stuck between a friggin' rock and hard place.  There is no good option here.

In the end, I decide to something to avoid any awkwardness.  However, in hindsight, it might possibly have been an even more awkward decision.

I decided to write a short note and tuck the quarter inside.

Note the strategic use of all-caps THANKS

and exclamation point for levity.  Well-played, David.

I walk back quietly to his apartment and slip the note and quarter under the door.  (Unfortunately, the quarter was not really affixed to the note, and I think it might have slipped out when I pushed the note under the door.  So it's possible that he will just find a note, with no quarter in it.  FML.)

And so ended another saga of WTF-edness.  (On a related note, if I owe you any sort of debt, please let me know.  I'm clearly not so organized about taking care of such things.)

Awkwardness on the plane

My team flew to Buffalo again this morning.  We got delayed on the tarmac, though, so I got a chance to chat up the nice flight attendant lady about the weather and whatnot.  After 30 minutes sitting on the plane, though, I start to get hungry, so I ask her if she is allowed to serve any of the snacks yet.  She says she doesn't know if she has enough for everyone, but she will look into it.

I'm literally sitting across the aisle from her little kitchenette, so I see her start shuffling through all these drawers trying to scrounge up bags of snacks.  She's ripping open cardboard boxes of various food items, packing and re-packing individual snack bags into all the shelves of her cart.  I start to feel bad.  I though that she had some peanuts easily available, but instead she is actually spending a significant amount of time looking for some snacks.  Her level of effort is not trivial.

Finally, she finds a small bag of trail mix and offers it to me.  I take the bag and thank her.

End of the story?  Unfortunately not.

As soon as she hands me the bag, I realize something.  The bag of trail mix is not kosher!  It is some sort of mixture of berries and nuts roasted in oil and whatnot, and it's not a mainstream brand that is typically kosher. So I can't eat it....

...but she just spent 10 minutes getting it for me!  And she is standing in her kitchenette about 2 feet away from me!  I can't hide!  What do I do?!!

All I can think of is to stare distractedly out the window, as if I've forgotten about the trail mix that I'm holding.  My mind is racing about what to do.  Do I let her see me put the trail mix in my backpack "for later"?  That wouldn't make sense because I had admitted to being hungry now.  Do I hide the bag when she isn't looking, pretending like I've already eaten it?  (For some reason, one idea that entered my mind for a brief moment was to reach over the seat in front of me, and drop the trail mix bag behind the back of the guy sitting there.  I don't know what that would have accomplished other than pissing off the guy in front of me and clearly bringing unwanted attention to me and my trail mix.)

I honestly did not know what to do.

After a few more tense minutes of internal dialogue, I suddenly discover a solution.  I notice that the flight attendant lady has pulled out another type of snack....and it's kosher!  (Nature Valley Granola Bars for the win!)  As she walks by me, I quickly put the trail mix back and take a granola bar.  The most satisfying granola bar of my life.

Success.

Drinking

Situation: I'm in my apartment.  I'm thirsty.  I want water.

Challenge: I only have small cups.  They simply don't quench my thirst unless I refill them 3-4 times.

Solution:

Plastic mixing bowl

Problem solved.

Hemp milk

(A few seconds after my roommate tries a sip of hemp milk)

Me: What does it taste like?

Him: I can taste so many colors!!

Me: Hilarious.

Him: Actually, it's like drinking a rope.

Chapstick

Thing I learned today:  If you are in the office and in need of chapstick, don't call the guy in charge of office supplies.  He does not stock chapstick in his supply closet (and he will also laugh at you.)

Late

We've all been late for the train or bus.  It happens.  But sometimes you get lucky and the train is also running late, so you actually end up catching the train.

But you know you're really running late when you still miss your train, even though it showed up 30 minutes late.

Headline on the internet

"The creator of MadLibs died yesterday. He was seventy-poop years old."