Yakitori Boy

Oh my dear Lord. Where have you been Yakitori Boy? You have lived, sang, and held so many hot asians only a block from my apt. without me ever seeing you. Unfair. But alas I made it out to, as far as I know, the only bar in Chinatown.

In short it was amazing. It was like an old city bar without the douches. A dive bar, without the dirty grime. And a karaoke bar without the terrible singing. Wrapped in dough and fried in an egg roll. Terrific! Beer specials, spacious, sushi bar downstairs, private karaoke rooms, and hot asians. There were hot asians there...fyi.

So my friends and I were hanging out at the bar, drinking our karaoke courage juice, and taking in the sights and sounds. Without warning the manager on duty leaps on top of the bar and begins singing some song in Spanish as the crowd cheers and throws napkins like confetti. It was the best concert I have ever seen! Working the crowd. Shaking the hips. He was quite a showman.

Needless to say, Yakitori Boy blew me away and I recommend it to anyone who isn't afraid to have a good time.

Yakitori Boy, check.

Crash a Wedding

I was standing in the pew, aside my sister this Christmas Eve. Candle in hand, the lighting ceremony was going off without a hitch. No burn victims or fires, and a lack luster rendition of Silent Night. Per usual. Until the minister decides to surprise everyone there with his daughter's wedding ceremony...just tacked on to the end of the Christmas Eve service. Now this is sad for a couple of reasons.

One. It's obvious that the bride and groom desperately wanted a large wedding, in front of family and friends and in their father/father-in-law's church. However they did not have enough family/friends to fill said church so they tricked innocent, apathetic church-goers into their surprise wedding. Very sneaky Mr. and Mrs. R.J. Hickman.

And two. They totally ruined Jesus' annual 24 hours of fame. This whole service was to remind us all of the true meaning of Christmas! Now we are reminded about how sneaky and untrustworthy the Hickman's are.

So in essence I was not invited to this wedding, yet was still there. I suppose it's more of the wedding crashing me, but that sounds odd so I'll stick with the original title.

Crash a Wedding, check.

ALLive.

I had a great idea today. Although it involves cheating on blogspot with tumblr I could care less about hurting feelings. Starting tomorrow, 12/23/2009, allive.tumblr.com will be the simplest way to get you to live music in the Philadelphia area. Bored and you already went to the movies twice this week? ALLive will have every venue and whether or not they have a musician performing that night. Click the link to be sent right to the online ticket office and away you go. Easy. Music. ALLive.

ALLive, check.

Sewing

How I loved that pair of grey jeans. My friends didn't make fun of me nearly as much as they did when I wore other pairs of slim pants. I felt like a new man. My party jeans. Well I partied too hard in these poor guys and ripped a DVD sized hole in my crotch. Every other pair of jeans I own have this same hole. What was I doing wrong? Probably dancing like an idiot, but that's irrelevant.

I had to do something. It being the Christmas season, coupled with the fact that I am moving into a new house, I didn't have extra money for a silly thing like pants. So I whipped out my needle and thread and got "Grandma" all over that jawn. It took me a good hour but I closed it up like a damn surgeon. Most likely it will rip again because I was recently informed that you need to do a certain pattern to ensure a tight hold. I just went back and forth, forth and back, forth and forth, etc. Time will tell, but I got my party jeans back.

Sewing, check.

Fast

Starting tonight at midnight I will embark on a dark and unforgiving journey that few men have ever completed. It will not be easy or tasty. I will fast for 24 whole hours. There will be temptations, peking ducks staring at me upside down in Chinese storefronts. But I will not budge, no I will stand firm in my beliefs. That I must try something new everyday.

Fast, TBD...

UPDATE

Fast, check.

Wild Boar

I took the subway down to south Philly for happy hour today, South Philadelphia Tap Room being the destination. I had stopped in briefly during an apartment hunt the other week but did not have anything more than a drink to kill some time. Today however, I was hungry and the appetizers were half off in the same vein as the drafts. The wild boar tacos immediately caught my attention because I originally envisioned myself being on the "eaten" end of this situation. Wild boars run wild in Florida where my parents live and they are creepy and unlike the sing songy Pumba of Disney fame. So I ordered and devoured with zest. To be brief they were incredible. I thought the meat would be tough, and maybe it typically is, but I believe it was braised and had the perfect amount of seasoning for a rare and peculiar appetizer. Topped with diced onions and guacamole, they were fantastic.

Wild boar, check.

Become Famous

...well maybe not quite. But my first album review was posted on PlugInMusic...dot com. As in the internet. So if I'm not famous yet, the potential is definitely there. Let me know what you think and keep a look out for more musically tinted opinions from this guy.

Become Famous, check.

Stealing a Bike

This is a story of accidents.

To start, I left my wallet in a jacket I wore to work. Didn't realize until I was back at my apartment and starting the process of taking my pants off and relaxing a bit by the TV. The problem arises when I am due to look at an apartment in Northern Liberties in 15 minutes. I originally planned to ride my own bike, but remembered it wasn't in my possession (long story). Arriving home and not seeing my bicycle I turn on the primal instincts, scheming how I will get to the apt.

There are several bikes in the stairwell of my apt. building. All of which are small, beat up, and have flat tires. Needless to say I must take one. I took the closest one to me and left a note on the wall reading, "Sorry I took your bike. It was an emergency and will return it soon." P.S. I had a great cover story for the so called "emergency."

Long story short, I rode said bike, returned said bike and don't think anyone noticed. Does that count as stealing?

Stealing a bike, check.

Boxing

I didn't really plan on "trying" this new experience. It kinda just happened, because it was an event I was working tonight. Bernard Hopkins vs. Enrique Ornelas. I know nothing about either of them. Hopkins is from Philly so everyone chanted "BHop" when he was fighting. Ornelas is from Mexico so nobody chanted anything when he was fighting. At least not that I could understand, because I don't speak Spanish. The crowd was made entirely of meatheads and incredibly sexy women. The main event was kinda weak, I heard that the undercards were more entertaining, with KO's and TKO's galore. Apparently Hopkins was supposed to beat this guy then fight Roy Jones in March, pending a win for Jones in Australia today. Jones got knocked out in the first round however so who knows what these two washed up boxers will do next. Either way I don't really care.

Boxing, check.

Music Review

I wrote a live music review for a website so I can exert some creative energy. I chose a Raekwon show I saw a few weeks ago. The review is below.

First Unitarian Church, Philadelphia, PA, USA

Atop a dingy tiled platform, raised a couple of feet off the floor, the mood is relatively raucous but awkwardly still. In front of a sold out crowd in the basement of Philadelphia’s First Unitarian Church, a former Wu-Tang lyricist is about to give the crowd what they’ve been chanting for all night. “Cash Rules Everything Around Me,” the Brooklyn native mumbles into the mic. The RZA’s xylophone-laced beat kicks in and hundreds of raised hands throw up the W. Through a cloud of smoke, Raekwon steps on stage.

It is both fitting and ironic that the most street-wise, criminologist of the Wu-Tang Clan is performing in a sepia-tinted basement littered with empty Pabst cans and Philly blunt wrappers, while an active Unitarian church sits idle a few feet above the audience’s head. It is in DIY venues like this that have helped Raekwon propel himself into the hip-hop/indie limelight that he now swaggers in.

Before he even steps on stage it is clear who the night belongs to. Despite Philly native, Reef the Lost Cauze bobbing the heads of his hometown crowd, Rae chops ‘em off. Opening his set with classics like “C.R.E.A.M” the crowd of a few hundred is ready to follow the “Chef” down a lyrical alleyway of grimy, Mafioso wordplay and street jargon. Lumbering from side to side in a black flat cap, pulled low over his eyes, Rae rattles off verse after verse from his new album Only Built 4 Cuban Linx…Pt. II.

A haunting loopy soul beat kicks off “House of Flying Daggers,” one of the singles off the Billboard chart topper. The crowd nods up and down reciting word for word Rae’s tribute to the sinister dealings of the rise of a mafia boss, broken up only by the occasional W in the sky or toke on the devil’s lettuce. Other crowd favorites like “10 Bricks” and the Dr. Dre produced steel drum shaker “Catalina” has Rae’s fans simmering in the already muggy atmosphere.

It is a night of disbelief. A collision of peculiar artist, venue, audience, and ambiance. The type of show where you feel like you should shower afterwards, but honestly don’t want to. And once the Chef has finished off the last morsel of a RZA infused instrumental, he ambles off the stage in triumph, through the same cloud of smoke he entered.

Music Review, check.

A Whole Meal of Food

3-D

This weekend I saw my first 3D film and finally arrived in the 1990's. Disney's A Christmas Carol was just one of many 3D movies to be released in theaters lately. However I've been hesitant to see one for a couple reasons. To start, the first 3D experience I had was at MGM Studios watching Honey I Shrunk the Audience. It blew my tiny ten year old mind. Needless to say, I was hooked. Even wore my glasses the rest of the day all around the park, marveling at the 3D'ness of an already 3D world. I couldn't wait for my next experience, which leads me to my second reason. I don't recall what TV program it was, but it was some half ass holiday special with plenty of advertising to get hyper active kids to pester their parents to buy Coke products so they could get a pair of special 3D glasses to watch it (You know what I'm talking about). It sucked butt and I was devastated. Swore off then and there the gimmick of all gimmicks.

Which brings us back to today.

I was anxious as I sat down with my sister, mother, and father. My eyes were magnified and wide behind two pairs of lenses, sweating and staring at the screen. Then the film began, with a first person view looking out a snowy window and slowly fading out to an aerial view of Mr. Dickens' classic beside a lit candle. It was the subtle viewpoints like this one that made me a fan again. Gorgeous overhead shots of old London town, coupled with the most disgustingly detailed characters, made this the best adaptation of A Christmas Carol I've ever seen.

3D Film, check.

James Joyce

Tis a shame I haven't read a novel written by an author from the land of my ancestors. But upon promises from a friend for delightful stories of the youth of Ireland and their adventures in Dublin, I figured this would be a good book to start with.

The Dubliners, was not what I expected. Instead of light hearted skipping and hijinx, the short stories were all dreadfully sad. I want to use another word instead of sad, but I think it's the best one. Beautifully sad maybe, but sad either way. Apparently Joyce intended for each story to have an illumination, or moment of clarity for the protagonist. Turns out these illuminations were all usually regarding the harsh realities of love, religion, and the social restraints in early 20th century Dublin. For example the best story in my opinion, The Dead, told the tale of a man at a dinner party with friends around the holidays. Everyone is having a great time conversing about the opera, playing piano, and of course drinking stout. As the party winds down the protagonist notices how lovely his wife is and how aroused it makes him. Counting the seconds until they can close the door to their hotel room, he notices she is crying. He finds out she was reminded of a love and still deeply misses this boy from her past. He comes upon the realization that he doesn't love her because he doesn't feel the same way she did towards the boy.

Of course I am summarizing and there is much more to his stories than that, but either way I don't know why I was surprised with stories of dark and dismal sadness by an Irish author.

James Joyce, check.

Devil's Den

On 11th and Ellsworth lies Devil's Den. I went there to watch the Eagles game Sunday night because of some positive word of mouth from some friends. Upon entering there wasn't anything that immediately caught my attention. It looked like every other dimly lit bar in South Philly. The menu was a little better, creative bar food basically. The pommes frites were good and reminded me of Good Dog's but without the kick ass burger dwelling next to it. But the mediocrity ended when I looked at the beer list. Monk's Cafe in Center City is the only bar I have been to that has such a variety of beers to choose from. With a special of $4 Franziskaner Hefeweisses during the game and half off their draughts during happy hour, it's downright sinful how great this place is.

Devil's Den, check.

Sucker Punched

I originally wanted to try a flaming shot for the first time, but the bar didn't have 151. To make up for it I got punched in the face instead. After leaving the bar, some South Jersey toolbags started yapping at me about my North Penn jacket and how my alma mater sucked. I didn't care but my friend wouldn't let them say such hurtful things about his boy's high school! Words were exchanged, then my buddy flicked his cigarette at one of the other guys and hit him in the middle of his forehead. Punches were thrown, wrestling, kicking, and noogies ensued while I tried to break the embarrassment up. During this process somebody from their jerzey krew punched me right between my eyes, knocking my glasses off and putting a gash across the bridge of my nose. Thankfully my glasses remained in one piece, as did my face, and I didn't have any bruises or black eyes the next morning...just a stronger hatred for wannabe guido jersey trash.

Sucker punched, check.

Sea Urchin

Weird foods will make up a decent amount of these try outs. Living in Chinatown the queer cuisine is a plenty and I won't have to run far to get home if I feel sick afterwards. Last night my friends and I went out for a friends birthday at Misso in Center City. Misso is a Japanese restaurant and sushi bar with a beautiful wood interior, dim lighting and granite table tops. While mostly everyone in the party stuck to the common appetizers, I was feeling stupid (probably from the grey goose and red wine) and ordered the sea urchin soup. Upon the soup being served in front of me the smell was awful right off the bat. Seawater and a "melted plastic" aroma hovered around the table and I was regretting the decision. The broth wasn't terrible, very salty but decent. The sea urchin looked like little pieces of shriveled up calamari. Yellow and gritty, the little bastards were tough to swallow but I finished the bowl. Gagging after every bite, I would highly recommend trying it yourself.

Sea Urchin, check.

Haggling

I never really cared too much to haggle someone over the price of a good they deemed worthy of it's existing price. But in honor of Thomas Try Outs and my dwindling bank account, Joe the landlord seemed like the perfect person to practice on today. Joe is a man I met on craigslist today (that sounded weird) to show me a one bedroom apartment in the Northern Liberties neighborhood of Philadelphia. One bedroom is a big deal, as I have never lived by myself. So I'm out on my own, completely responsible for everything that happens in this apartment, and the first thing that's going to happen? I'm paying $100 dollars less than the asking price. I know it's big step for a first time haggler but when I saw Joe for the first time, and noticed how much shorter he was then I, I became the dominant male in the situation. We looked over the place for about 20 minutes, new kitchen cabinets, deck, a few touchups needed in the bathroom but overall a real gem. Spacious, up and coming neighborhood, bar across the street, what more could you want? How about the El train not between you and the bar? Joe thought I wouldn't notice but I'm an experienced apt. shopper and I noticed it right away. Thus I had my leverage to use for the haggle...and haggle Adam did. First to $400, Joe countered with $625, and that simply wouldn't do. I struck back with a roundhouse $500, nearly connecting with the side of his face, but he somersaulted towards the heater and turned...up...the...heat! $600 he said. Then I looked him square in his face and I quote "Tiny Joe, $575 or I walk."

Underneath the El, walking back towards Chinatown, I looked over my shoulder at Joe. He looked even tinier from far away.

Haggling, check.

Yin Yoga

Yin yoga differs from most other types of yoga in the sense that it focuses on stretching the ligaments and tendons that connect our muscles and bones, rather than the muscles themselves.  My friend had told me that yin yoga would be much less strenuous than the vinyasa yoga we had tried the week before.  Needless to say I was excited when I heard yin was much more relaxing and did not require pretzel type positions that I would have to put my body through.  For the majority of the class we were sitting or lying down on the mat working on the ankles, knees, and hips.  Sounds easy but I am about as flexible as an ironing board and while balancing for the tree pose in vinyasa was tough, it didn't require much flexibility.  And the entire session involved me fidgeting around so that my ankles weren't going numb or my quads weren't ripping in two.  There were however brief moments of relaxation, but they were mostly when the instructor told us to change positions or I remembered to find my breath.  I'm going to try to stretch more so next time in class instead of listening to the eerie hindu chanting music I'll be able to focus my energy and hear T.I.'s "Rubber Band Man"  

Yin yoga, check.