The next few days...

Here we go...

Leaving for Paris. Going for my boy's wedding to be a best man.

I'll bring some lactaid and prepare to feel insulted by hopelessly chic bastards.

Yeehaw.

Listening to Eddie Murphy Raw. Brilliant.

Sucky Post #4

Took the MCAT. The toughest experience in my academic life. Simply grueling.

Slept for many hours afterwards.

Tomorrow back to work (spring break is dead. long live spring break).

Thursday off to Paris.

Concise and dull: being creative is difficult.

Ear infection, MCAT, and KG

Got an ear infection. Itchy inner ear affecting the quality of noises, I'm resisting the urge to insert something sharp and pointy into my ear canal.

Taking the MCATs tomorrow. Thanks to Law-Dog Dan for the advice to relax tonight. Apparently studying like a fool the night before the exam is not a great notion. So tonight, ELV and I dine on prime rib.

Had a party. The infamous KG showed up and brought a bit of chaos with him. From the oompah-loompah dance to the garlic chopping battle, KG certainly livens-up any room. You my boy, KG...

swear that the next time, it will last longer...

exhausted...drove for most of the day through the slight slopes of Virginia and North Carolina.

remembered how good Bojangles prepares their fried chickens.

listened to alot of satellite radio.

had a party Saturday. more on that soon.

taking the mcats saturday.

sorry for these un-fun blurbs, i'll be better prepared soon enough.

"I Want to Take His Face...OFF"

It has finally happened. China is now ready to take over the world, and all my argument against China (labelled by the liberal media as "paranoid ramblings of a semi-coherent parakeet," which I think is a misprint of the word "patriot") are now coming true. Back in December, I pointed out the various attributes of the Chinese people that shot them folks in a direct trajectory toward fighting a war with the United States. In addition to the vast population, serious martial art skills, throwing stars, high aptitude for producing high-decibal shrieks (now being used as a possible disarming technique), and their lasers; I told you that these diabolical China-men are working on nefarious plots to covertly infiltrate and subjugate our American shores. For more information, go to Google, type in "china is the devil," and click the Feeling Lucky button.



Well, here's the proof. The Chinese are using evil plots from crappy movies for their new espionage program. Taking a tip from the feature film "Face/Off" (directed by John Woo...yup, WOO), the chinese have performed the first face transplant. According to a CNN report, a man who was disfigured after being attacked by a bear has become the first in China to have a face transplant, a hospital in the country has announced.


First off, everyone knows that there are no bears in China. Second of all, bears don't rip off human faces. Thirdly, the man was give a new cheek, upper lip and nose from a single donor. See, now, here's the point. They're gonna send over this fellow, as a spy, and we're not going to know who he is. I can image the board guarding guy going "you know, this fellow looks like a hunter from the southwest province of Yunnan, but then again he hast eh cheek, upper lip, and nose of a schoolteacher from the northeast province of Nunyan." Being thus confused, this guy is going to waltz in with his crazy face to do God knows what in our country.
What should we have done about this? First off, we should have killed all the French. They pioneered this technology. Some bitch in France bit the face off her owner, and so the owner, Isabelle Dinoire, got new lips, chin and nose. As you can see from the image to the left, you can't really tell that this woman is composite of multiple people. Though not perfect, its still better than the surgical proceedings before the Frenchies got their cheese coated hands on it (to the right, an unfortunate woman who was attacked by her pet wolverine in the days before face transplants). Second, we need to send more bears. More bears to attack more Chinese. The chinese government would become so preoccupied with bears that they would cease for a while their other pasttimes, like killing intellectuals and raping freedom. Oh, that and enjoying preferred nation status from the US government and raking in the cashola while ensuring that the environmental condition of mainland china will be one of the heaviest contributors of industrial heavy metal runoff as well as key greenhouse contributing gases. Maybe they'll stop running over people with tanks if we sent more bears. Thirdly, we need to kill Nicholas Cage and John Travolta. They make Face/Off. They're scientologists. They should be eliminated. Finally, we need robots. Lots of robots with picture memory. When you try to enter America, you're picture has to be recognized by the robots. If you've had face transplants, the robots will be confused. With confusion, comes laser beams and flying detachable fists. Thus, robots will protect us from face-altering communists. Only then will we truly be safe. In closing, I'd like to say to the 1 billion Chinese people that though some of you are decent, good people, for the most part, I believe you're all killers waiting to destroy freedom cause you hate freedom, and you want to make baby Jesus cry. Well, if you invade, come over to my compound, and I've got a couple friends to introduce you to.

Scared now, ain't you?

Patriot Standardchuck, out.

Annapolis and other movie settings

We went to Annapolis yesterday. Some interesting facts:

• The State House (seat of the Maryland state government) was the Capital of the United States for about a year after the Revolutionary War.
• Annapolis is the home of St. John's College, a school founded in the 17th century that continues to educate utilizing only the Classics.
• The Naval Academy, founded in 1845, is esteemed for producing great midshipmen as well as lacrosse teams that do not commit sex crimes.
• Annapolis features old cobblestone roads that have no intensive purpose in our modern day life other than to increase tourist confidence in the authenticity of oldness as well as destabilizing shocks to increase business to mechanics.
• Annapolis is an anagram for the word "Pansolins," a word once described by Annapolis native Frank Upton Taney as "the sweetest word ever to describe the special trousers worn by horse jockeys the day before a rather heavily wagered race."
• Surrounded by historic architecture, I take pictures of an alleyway and a bunny.
  
• Home of the famous delly (as spelled by the establishment) - Chick & Ruth's Delly.

The following pictures of our visit to Chick & Ruths. We both had corned beef/pastrami sandwiches on rye (fantastic) and matzah ball soup (a bit salty but quite palatable). Over all rating: 94% out of a possible 100 on the standardchuck Deli-rific richter scale.

Mash ups

Yes, I'm slow to discovering mashups...

Here's my top 5 mashups:

5. Sweet Home Alabama vs. Country Grammer (Lynard Skynard/Nelly)

4. Funky Cold Medina vs. Can't Get You Out of My Head (Tone Loc/Kylie Minogue)

3. Sweet Dream vs. Without Me (Eurythmics/Eminem)

2. Smack My Bitch Up vs. Sex Crimes (Prodigy/Beck)

1. Rapture vs. Riders on the Storm (Blondie/The Doors)

Email me if you want me to send any of these files...top 5 subject to change at a moment's notice

Short script #2: A bump on the head

Sal, aged 31, lives in a dark apartment. Close up to a clock showing 4 o'clock, with faint wisps of daylight shining through the window. Sal is balding and presumably smelly. Near his snoring body, is an alarmclock faced down onto his nightstand as well as a jug of Vladimir vodka.

Voice: Wake up Sal, wake up...
Sal: (sleepily) Ma?
Voice: Wake up, Sal
Sal: Ma, leave me alone, give me one more hour.
Voice: Wake up, wake up, wake up... (transforms into the beep-beep of the alarm clock)
Sal: (roused) grog, alright, alright, bastard.

Sal reaches over, slaps the alarm to a crashing halt, grabs the bottle of vodka.

Sal: Good morning Vladimir.

Sal take a large swig of vodka.

Sal: (grimacing) ahhh, yeah.
A Russian Voice (Vladimir): You love my juice, don't you, bitch.
Sal: (confused) huh? who's that?
Vladimir: It is me, maggot, I am your czar!
Sal: Shut up, this is prank right?
Vladimir: Do you not hear me? Hold the bottle to your ear.

Sal hold the bottle to his ear. A loud voice pierces and simultaneously the bottle bashes the side of Sal's head).

Vladimir: Do you hear me now???
Sal: I'm really messed up, aren't I?
Vladimir: No, you aren't drunk, rather you are poisoned.
Sal: What? Poisoned?
Vladimir: Yes. During bottling, my vodka was contaminated with a special cleaner for a part of machinery that mixes the potatoes...the cleaner has mercury.
Sal: So what...I'm going to be able to tell your temperature?
Vladimir: No, it means you have drank so much of me, not only have you made like sauerkraut of your liver, but your brain is riddled with mercury. You've gone crazy!
Sal: Huh.
Vladimir: Don't believe me, get a second opinion.

Alarm Clock fallen to the ground: You're fucked Sal.
Pillow: Yep, you've gone Tom Cruise, son.
Blanket: (elephant roar)

Sal: So, what happens now?
Vladimir: What do you think? Go out and preach, Sal. Let people know about all those crazy thoughts, crazy dreams that Vladimir and mercury will rock out of your inner soul.
Sal: Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'll tell the world.
Vladimir: Before you go, I am going to give you a new name, for your new life.
Sal: Alright.
Vladimir: You will be L. Ron Hubbard.
Sal/Hubbard: Thank you Vladimir.
Blanket: Good. Now stick your dick in my Downy-soft folds, big boy.
Vladimir: NOOOO, blanket is Xenu!

Cut to black screen with words in white: Don't have sex with your bedsheets, because that makes Xenu happy.
A message from the Church of Scientology: "No just for crazy people, but for rich crazy people."

Eater's Regret

I don't think that it's a coincidence that I'm constantly writing about food and gaining weight. To testify for my ballooning waist, take for instance my habits tonight. Morning, breakfast of eggs, fake-con, and half a bagel. Lunch, a plate of farfalle and a roasted chicken breast in organic tomato sauce...leading to dinner of 7 - 11 hotdogs, slathered with chili and cheese-type inorganic goo. Granted, I did have a few libations, mixed with grandma's departure and massive studying (do doctors really need to know about Planck's constant? Those pretty people on Grey's Anatomy never discuss the behavior of electrons in a magnetic field...MCATs are full of shite). Still, have you had Sleven hotdogs? There's something very similar to the feeling after eating those crap sticks compared to the moment before a very serious, unpleasant meeting...sweat beads, heart palpitations, trouble breathing, and B.O.. Oh well, at least you don't have to sleep next to me tonight. Pffffffffffffff...as James Joyce would elegantly crafty...followed with some dookie time.

This moment of potty humor sponsored in part by Charmin brand Disintegration roll..."We leave some behind!"...Cha-cha-cha-CHARMIN!

RIP

My maternal grandmother passed away today, aged 86. She died surrounded by her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchild. She passed away peacefully. Rest in heaven, hal mu nee, and we'll see you soon.

Observational Humor #1

Last night, an advert inspired ELV and I to hightail it to the local Ruby Tuesdays, or as we like to call it "Tuesday Cafe," cause it sounds much more posh. The television depicted kinetic mini-burgers flying across the screen, as if the sole desire of those little meat patties was to fly straight into my mouth. Gustatory hints will always work on this stomach with legs.

After dining on the delightful salad bar, featuring a nice asian sesame dressing and delectable pumpernickle croutons, and munching joylessly on the mini-burgers (floppy, sloppy, joyless things), ELV looked through the dessert menu to find this exclaimation: "It's an ice cream avalanche!" This leads to Standardchuck maxim #82: Pairing a dessert ingredient with a natural disaster equals advertising gold!

For some unknown psychological reason, the use of natural disasters fits perfectly in describing a plentiful availability of sweetness. A chocolate eruption means there's an explosion of ooey, gooey chocolate slamming into your taste buds! A spearmint tsunami tantalyzes the brain with the wave of minty-ness washing over your tongue! A cinnamon forest fire emphasizes the potential for massive property damage inside your mouth!

So, for all you advertising executives (or citizens looking to spice up the descriptions of your confectionary treates), here's a handy list of natural disasters that you can use:

• earthquake or quake (a papaya earthquake!)
• tornado
  
• whirlwind
• hurricane
• gale (a grape-filled gale!)
• tsunami
• typhoon (a tiramisu typhoon!)
• flood
• red tide bloom
• forest fire
• lightning strike (a creamy lightning strike)
• thunderstorm
• mudslide/landslide
• volcano
• geyser (a gravy geyser!)

The last example is a case in point for Standardchuck maxim #82a: Pairing a non-dessert food item to a natural disaster is not appetizing. A gravy geyser is not an appetizing description. A medium rare porterhouse steak red tide bloom does not sound super-awesome. A whirlwind of egg foo young...now that's too damned greasy. So be wary, dear readers, toward over-use or more importantly misuse of this powerful tool. Your brain palate will thank you.

A vote for this guy is a vote for...this guy

Not as well remembered in my brain as Boris Zubov, WWF legend Nikolai Volkoff has announced his canidancy for House of Delegates in Maryland. So, if you are in the Seventh District, and you really really liked old wrestling dudes who sang the USSR national anthem and stomped with jet black boots, then Volkoff is your man!

If only the Iron Sheik would run with Volkoff...

Link to story:

http://www.gazette.net/stories/032406/polia%20s193753_31945.shtml

Photos

Just bought a digital camera. Test photos.

<-- My front door. By the way, party at the new place on the 15th (Saturday).






<-- Living Room: sometimes I like to look at myself in the mirror






<-- Cartoony picture of dining room








<-- From my front steps. Masonic Temple.

Continuations...

Pollo Campero: what should I say...juicy chicken, thinly coated with breading, pressure fried in canola oil, injected with seasonings inside the meat. Delicious chicken that was inexpensive (18 piece, three sides, under 25 dollars). Moreover, the sides, excellent beans (pinto in a juicy, spicy broth), hearty coleslaw with a kick of horseraddish, decent mexican rice (a bit dry though), and kick ass plantains (pan-fried golden spectacular).

I'd have to say, 4 1/2 drumsticks out of a possible 5.

Other random thoughts:

• Love Beck's Guero, but the best tracks are from the Gameboy Variations EP that you can find on the iTunes store.
• Oh, illustrious trendy indie dance tracks, from the Strokes "Last Night," through the Raptures "House of Jealous Lovers," to Franz Ferdinand's propulsive "Take Me Out," you have a new member: She Wants Revenge's "Tear You Apart." Same angular beats, fuzzy guitars, and angst-dance swagger, but for some reason, I am reminded of "Possum Kingdom," as far as the mood of the song.
• Music that I'm really digging right now: Seu Jorge's David Bowie covers from "The Life Aquatic," Cibo Matto's "Stereotype A" is making me wish they would release something dammit, and Sufjan Stevens' concert mp3 found at My Old Kentucky Blog (http://myoldkyhome.blogspot.com/2005/12/sufjan-stevens-live-at-bluebird.html)
• The warm weather is great, except for the damned plants sperming everywhere. Why do we allow this perverted behavior from Kingdom Plantae? Would we allow Joe Schmuck to whip it out and coat our cars? This is ridiculous.
  
• Watching "The Wire" season 2: damned good stuff.
• Downloading "The Sopranos" episode 4: can't wait.
• Party at my new place April 15th. More news to come.
• "Lucky Number Sleven." Why does this movie title make me crave some nachos?
• I'm leaving the Yeshiva for other employment after this academic year. Any suggestions?
• Why do I keep playing fantasy baseball? I'll tell you why: fascinating statistics (Bill James was right: numbers tell you more than how a batter looks at the ball park) and a large sample size (with so many games, you know that the statistics mean something). Plus, I really like the fact that I can cheer on players from really crappy teams. Why else would I root for the Devil Rays unless I've got Rocco patroling my centerfield?
  

In closing, Condoleeza Rice defended the nuclear deal with India. I'm gonna go hang myself.

Chicken of the Gods

Once upon a time, I lived in Jackson, Mississippi. Why is not the reason I bring up the decaying city in the middle of the burning. In Jackson, I had the greatest fried chicken ever at a small restaurant called Two Sisters' Kitchen. Since then, I have been searching for a facsimile of the crispy, juicy staple of southern cuisine that would be ever so palatable. Literally, I had a craving in the pit of my stomach for some quality chicken every 2 months or so. To ease the craving, I started scoping out any and every chicken joint in search of good fried chicken.

Don't eat the following chicken:

• Popeye's (salty coating attempts to mask the weak, slightly bitter meat; even more depressing is their treatment of biscuits...not fluffy, but rather a butter brick, handy for greasing up the axle as your journey to Oregon)
• Church's (simply retched)
• Royal Farms (tastes like Hungry Man dinner fried chicken: by the way, if you are jonesing, Hungry Man fried chicken is satisfying like masterbating to a Sears Bra Advert as your erotic inspiration = perfunctory and sad)
• Kennedy Fried Chicken on Greenmount (yucky oil...change the oil, fry man, because poultry fried in pomade would taste more appetizing)
• Pat's Fried Chicken located somewhere between Baltimore and Lexington, KY (I have never seen such pitifully small chicken piece coated with so much batter: fluffy cat dunked in water is what I pictured as I bit in)
• Shoney's in Greensboro, NC (Don't go to Shoney's)
• Hardee's in Miami (Hardee + fried chicken = gurgling evacuation of your lower intestines; and it tastes like air dried chicken meat coated with salted sand paper with a nice corn oil drizzle for presentation)
• Mayflower Seafood Restaurant in Greensboro, NC (Cod flavored chicken)
• Place in Seattle Washington with frou-frou name (Never disrespect fried chicken with fancy coating using rice flour with a garnish of avocado, bonito, and zest sauce. It tasted like a Japanese guy threw up after a NASCAR event in my mouth

Other establishments are passable substitutions for quality chicken. You will never beat homemade chicken that comes from the hands and hearts of cooks who have had many years of experience. Many restaurants do not try to trick you into thinking that this is absolutely fantastic chicken; rather, its satisfying when you are craving: KFC, Charles' Southern Chicken in NYC, Cluck-U in Baltimore.

In certain southern states, such as North Carolina, the fast food establishment Bojangles is a worthy stop. Excellently flavored chicken, awesome sweet tea, and supreme biscuits for a fast food place. So, since Two Sisters, my favorite chicken moments have been supplied by Bojangles (Boberry Bisquits are the prohibitive favorites for best explanation for my severely clogged arteries).

However, I'm glad to say that I have found the best chicken I have had in years. Tonight, I had Pollo Campero chicken.

More to come...have to rest my chicken filled belly.

For My Memory

For future blogs, these topics may or may not be used:

• Which was the greatest NBA team? Using the definition of team as a collective group who dominate the game (thus excluding the greatest basketball player ever to live and his cohort of supporting characters), I'm going to choose from one of the following teams: The LA Lakers of the 80's, the Piston currently, the Celtics of the late 70's to mid 80's, or the Philadelphia 76ers of the 60's. I'm leaning toward the argument for the current Pistons...which will make for an interesting posting.
• What's the point of wisdom teeth? Why hasn't evolution rid us of these nuisance body parts?
• Why is fashion even in existence? I mean, what's the point or difference between buying club clothes from Marshalls versus jetting to Paris to sip a macchiato while pointing at collections of threads that have a thousand dollar label? An expose to come, mayhaps.
• Does my friend Toby resemble any specific television characters?
• Why are cheese, caviar, truffles, and pate so darned delicious? Is it the fact that they are labeled as gourmet or does it singe the nostrils just so? On the flip side, if we made gourmet pork cracklings (using saffron oil and delicate sprinkles of goat cheese kosher salt), would it be the rave in NYC?
• Further delving into the proper rules of video game etiquette...such as, if your opponent's girlfriend distracts you from the game (doing something like vacuuming), then two punishments must be meted: the opponent must lose control of their controller for one play (sports game) or one round (fighting game), AND the offending girlfriend must drive to the local convenience store to buy a six pack of beer (Sam Adams or above in quality...none of that Milwakee's Best, thank you very much).
• Do you answer the phone while having sex?
  
• Another installment of a page from a hypothetical film script/sketch show script.
• Does my friend Toby resemble any specific cartoon characters?
• Annoying habits of the homeless.
• The crankiness of employees in retail outlets: the dehumanizing effects of commerce in an economically unfair world.
• Drunk indie bitches.
• How to cook a chicken vindaloo using no chicken and having the outcome nothing like vindaloo...a true story. I started cooking, expecting an indian dish, using absolutely no indian spices, nor using the meat stated in the title. I actually made something resembling a beef stew. I'm educated, can you believe it?
• Finally, a rundown of the best fantasy baseball predictions this side of Maxim magazine: example of the stellar information only found at standardchuck - pick up Mike Piazza...trust me...he's gonna hit for average and ribbies. Or how about this nugget: pick up either the 1b of the Marlins, or other corner infielders with the first name of Jose. Except that firstbaseman of the Marlins...I think his first name is Jeremy. Or is that OF? Well, just take anyone who isn't white.

All coming, from standardchuck...all the news that's fit to print...um...pixelate from your screen.