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.