Collections

We all have things we tend to collect. My mother collects magnets from all the places we have been. I have a friend who collects wine corks and writes the date the bottle was opened and finshed...often the same date. I like to collect match books. I always felt like every book of matches tells a story. I also have another random collecting interest: blankets from airplanes.

It all happened so innocently. I was flying home from Charlotte to White Plains with a two hour layover in Pittsburgh for Easter weekend. I am usually cold because my body temperature is slightly lower than the average person due a malfunction in my blood (nothing serious, promise). A change to a cooler climate can be bothersome. Since I was flying USAir on both legs of the trip, I thought I would take a blanket into the Pittsburgh Airport and leave it on the plane when I arrived in NY. After a travel experience that deserves it's own blog and will probably top any of your flying stories, I landed in Newark Airport the next day on a Delta flight. Throughout this all I had very few possessions: the 1st season of the Sopranos on DVD in which we watched on a German guy's laptop, my dead cell phone, a toothbrush, my wallet, a psychobiology textbook, and my blanket. I slept on the floor of the airport with that blanket; it was warm, fuzzy, and dark blue. And yes, I still have it. This experience sparked an interest to have more airplane blankets, because like the matchbooks, there are memories attached to them.

My most recent blanket came from an American Airlines flight. I was walking on the plane in Miami and I knew I would be cold. No one was sitting in first class, so I just snatched a blanket. To my surprise the blanket was a lot plusher, bigger, and more colorful than the coach blankets. I decided to just put it in my bag fearing the flight attendant would take it from me. Jealously was written all over my friends' faces when they saw this find.

My favorite blanket I acquired on a Singapore Airlines flight to JFK from Frankfurt. Who flies Singapore Air to and from Germany you might ask? Me...you should try it. Aside from the great food, the slippers, playing Nintendo on the plane, the eye shades, hot towels, and the Singapore slings...there were blankets. This blanket it huge and soft. The only downside to this blanket is the color....purple and turquoise plaid, but it does match the entire interior of the plane. Next I have to see how to score one of the kimonos that the flight attendants wear.

The best winter blanket comes from an Alitalia flight from Sicily to Rome. I was so cracked out of my mind the morning we boarded this flight in Catania. My parents felt the need to have a sunrise breakfast on the lava rock beach. This was a great idea, except the closer you get the equator earlier the sun comes up. For those who don't know, Sicily is practically in Africa. It is not an accident we are dark skinned. So there I am at 4:45am eating my pastry with Nutella, drinking expresso, and wishing I were dead. We proceed to the airport to find out the plane just didn't show up. No one, except my parents, were the least bit alarmed by this. Then I heard my father raising his voice in Italian. I just kind of pretended I didn't know who that crazy man was with the hiked up tube socks and fell asleep on a bench. My mother woke me up and before I knew it, we were boarding a plane for Rome. I immediately passed out for the entire 2 hour trip to Rome. I commented to my dad when we landed that the seats were comfortable and he said, "well, I told those (insert derogatory Italian word) in Catania that I demand to be on the next plane to Rome going first class." Look at that, the crazy man in Catania was fighting for his family to get first class and no one told me! I never flew first class before this and I really couldn't tell you what first class treatment feels like. I have no recollection of the experience, but I did keep the blanket! It is thick, gray and flannel! Perfect.

I can only imagine the blanket stories will get better with time. Above is the blanket from Singapore Airlines.

Yes...we are related

Sitting outside on the patio with my nephew Joseph (7 months old) and niece Kaitlyn (4 years old). Megan (4 months old) was taking a nap.

The (Late) Morning After the Storm

So this entire liver flush is done, I am cleaned out as of this morning. I thought I would give you the play by play of the last 24 or so hours:

Yesterday morning: I hit the gym early and drank a gallon of apple juice. This resulted in my early stages of dehydration since I sweated out any water in me and then I replaced it with juice. The bloated feeling was the least of the problems I would encounter later.

12:30pm Yesterday: I had my last rights to a meal. I felt like I was a death row inmate and had to choose a meal that I could savor and enjoy. I went with some left over pork roast from Sunday and some pasta, with a side of 4-bean salad. I am not sure this meal would be recommended since it was big, but I didn't care.

3:30pm yesterday: I had to ingest my first cocktail of Epsom salt. The directions say that 2 tablespoons were to be dissolved in 1 ounce of hot water. After getting a visual of what an ounce looks like and what 2 tablespoons look like, I realized the laws of concentration would not allow the salt to dissolve no matter how hot the water was. I had an extremely large supersaturated solution. So I added more water and a few drops of lemon juice for taste. The solution had no smell, but the taste was something to bring on nightmares. Nothing is worse than expecting one taste (salt water) and getting something else (abrasive bathroom cleaner with paint thinner). I had to hold my nose to take this down and chug OJ to kill the taste in my mouth. My reaction to the drink was similar to Justin making me a vodka cocktail while claiming there is hardly any alcohol in the drink. My face cringes and I get the shakes for a brief moment. Well multiply this by a factor of 10!

5:30pm yesterday: It was time to ingest my second cocktail of Epsom salt. I took a nap after the first one partly out of disgust and feeling violated. This time I switched it up. I understand the reason for the hot water to be mixed with the salt...for chemical reactions occur at higher temperatures inside your body. On the other hand, there is a reason our bodies are 98.6 degrees F. Let my body work towards heating up the water. I also decided to mix the salt with apple juice to kill the horrible taste. Although it was foul tasting apple juice, it beat the hot water.

6:00 yesterday (dinner): My father spent the day in Brooklyn and stopped by my cousin's bakery for bread. He brought home 4 loaves of fresh bread. I was only able to smell the bread and had my three oranges for dinner and laid back down. Within an hour of dinner, the laxative power of the Epsom salt kicked in and my entire body had flushed out all waste products. I weighed myself before and after this moment and lost 5 pounds of water and waste weight. I had to drink water at this point because I was getting very dehydrated and weak.

10:00pm yesterday: So my body is cleaned out, time for oil and lemons. I squeezed out 1/2 cup of fresh lemon juice and added some sugar and water to make very sour lemonade. I also measured out the 1/2 olive oil (1 tablespoon = 14 g fat). They were not mixed because Justin and I had a thought they would curdle. So without much thought, I stuck a straw in the oil and sucked it down. The oil itself did not taste like much, but the consistency was enough to make me gag and gag and gag each time I swallowed. As soon as I was done with that, I chugged the lemon juice. This tasted AMAZING! About 30 minutes before this, I had taken a tylonal PM to make me sleep. I got into bed, laid on my right side with my right knee up to my chest and said a prayer. I even listened to my gallbladder with the stethoscope. It was loud!

7:00am today: I woke up with a headache, dehydrated, and on my way to feeling violated again because I had to take my last Epsom salt cocktail. I took it with apple juice and went back to bed for 3 hours.

10:00 today: The laxative power took over again and I made a run for the bathroom. Whatever water I had in me came out and then there were all these green pea size balls in the bowl. There were about 50 of them, most of them tiny. But I managed to take out the larger ones for inspection. They are soft, wrinkled, and bright green. I even took a photo of them for you after washing them off. You know you have been waiting for this! So I guess I am cleaned out. There weren't a ton of balls because I am fairly young to do this and pretty healthy. I imagine an older person or someone who eats a high fat diet would have more green balls coming out. I managed to eat breakfast, drink water, and I am starting to feel better.

Would I do it again? Maybe....if they somehow involve vodka, kool-aid and vitamin water into the entire regimen. Until then, I'll pass.

You might like this.......

So my friend Marc is leaving Corporate America to embark on his career in film at Columbia Film School. I am a huge fan of his writing and hate the corporate world and Metro North about as much as he does. Below is his own blog about his last week of work. I look forward to one day seeing one of his films and accepting an Academy Award, but for now I will continue to chuckle at his writing.
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Last Week of Work

Yes, the time has come. My final days in Corporate America (CA) have dwindled to merely a few, and with them, I am overwhelmed with memories. Or is it the Pakistani kid's body odor? Regardless, here are some of my favorite memories over the past four years in CA.

1. The Guy Who Won't Shut the Fuck Up: We all know these assholes. They feel like they need to talk, incessantly about nonsensical subjects such as the color schemes of the various ties they wear, the operating system upgrade they just had done on their computer, their latest rentals on Netflix, or how their kids are "awesome athletes."

Let's be real, OK? Your tie is ugly. Your computer needed a system upgrade because you downloaded too much porn. Your taste in movies sucks. And your 15 year-old son might be able to throw a 70 mph fastball, but he reads at a thrid grade level.

Why don't we talk about that?

2. The Boss Who Wields WAY Too Much Power: He can't work an Excel spreadsheet if his family's life depended on it, but he's making $500,000 per year, and laughing at you while he asks you to change the water in the water cooler. You do more work than he does, and usually, your contribution anihilates his output by a factor of ten.

3. The Bitter Single Women: Corporate America loves to take these women in. Give me your tired, your poor, your over-the-top MAN HATERS! Misery loves company, and Corporate America does in fact breed much misery among its participants. But really, check the man-hating at the door. Please. No guy wants to hear what an "asshole" the guy you met "at the bar" turned out to be because he "won't return your calls." Maybe, after meeting you, he lost faith in the entire female population and killed himself! That's right, he's probably dead. It's not that he didn't want to call you back. It's that he would rather have walked into the on-coming cross-town bus.

4. The Cleaning Crew: When you're at work so late that the cleaning crew comes around, and there's that one Latino girl who is border-line cute, and you say to yourself, "wow, you know what? Staring at this computer screen has made me so blind, I'd probably bang that."

The man-haters hate that guys think about this, but it's a simple fact. Work enough hours for enough days, and there is a reasonable, 99.9% chance you will think about having sex with a member of the cleaning crew.

5. The Fucking Fax Machine: Why do you need a PHd in Engineering from MIT to work this piece of shit? "Oh, you need this faxed? No problem. Let me just figure out what number this garbage document is supposed to be faxed to. Is it international? OK, which country? England? Great. What's the country code? Can I go on the Internet and look it up? No problem. Looks like the country code is 44. Great. What's the dial out number? Is it 9, or 8? What do I have to put before dialing the international number? Oh, 011? Awesome. So it's 9011? Oh, so I should try with 9, and if that doesn't work, use the 8? Got it. Which way does the paper go? Up? Down? Fowards? Backwards? OK, I'm dialing. I'm hitting 9044, FUCK. 44011, GOD DAMN IT! OK, 901144............BUSY SIGNAL. Jesus Christ. (15 minutes later) OK, it just went through. But now I have to stand here and wait for the confirmation, you say? Oh, sweet, here it comes! Wait, why is the page blank??? It's out of ink??? Now I can't tell if the fax went through! Who changes the ink? I change the ink? Where do I get the ink cartridge from? Oh, from Staples. Now we're talking. How do I order it? WHAT!?! I HAVE TO ORDER VIA FAX!?!"

6. The Elevators: There are two potential situations in the Corporate Elevator, both of which are right up there with the firey pits of Hell.

6a. The crowded elevator where no one talks, except for two people who don't care that everyone can hear their conversation. Worst of all, they'll say things like "Ugh, I can't believe Dan made me work overtime again last night!" or "I am SO SWAMPED." Hey, maybe "Dan" is creating more work for you so that you'll bang him, late night. Or maybe, Dan is just the kind of guy who likes seeing other people bask in their own misery. Either way, I like Dan. Dan's a good buddy of mine. We met one night while staring at the cleaning crew. So I'm going to tell him you said that, and get you fired.

6b. The crowded elevator where one guy decides that he cannot spare an extra 15 seconds and wait for another elevator. And it's always a guy. The doors are closing. Everyone's ready for the ascent back up to their cubicles, but here comes fat bastard Larry, closing in on the elevator faster than Seabiscut on War Admiral at motherfucking Pimlico. That look on his face is priceless. His eyes squint. Beads of sweat drip from his wrinkled brow. His flapping gut wiggles as his chubby legs tries to get him there in time. His ugly tie flies in the wind. The doors are closing. Everyone's thinking, "Oh my god, this douchebag is gonna take on the iron doors of the elevator!" And then, WHAM! The door closes right on him, and he barges through, into the already packed elevator. And everyone just kinda looks at poor Larry, not knowing whether to laugh, or to berate him with obscenities for instantly exceeding the maximum weight limit and putting everyone's life in danger.

That was totally worth getting dismembered, Larry. Good show. You do realize the extra 15 seconds of productivity translate into literally one extra penny on your bonus. Dick.

Shish Kabobs

A shish kabob consists of a wooden or metal stick with cubes of meat, fish, fruit, and/or vegetables then roasted on a grill. The name translates to "skewer of grilled meat" in Persian. The earliest recipes were documented during the 10th century in present day Iraq and consisted of slices of meat grilled in a frying pan. Some of you may be familiar with the doner kebab. You can't really find this in the United States outside of New York, but it is a sliced lamb or chicken ropped together roasting on a vertical, rotating spit. The meat shaved off the spit and often served in a gyro with hummus, lettuce, tomatoes, and a yogurt sauce.

The above picture happens to be tonight's dinner. Below the colorful veggies are lemon-pepper shrimp kabobs. They will be served with veggie kabobs (red/yellow peppers, onions, and zucchini). I plan to grill both of these and serve them over couscous....a wheat grain typical of Arabic cuisine.

My Green Thumb

I think in another lifetime I was a landscaper. I have always taken a liking to cutting the grass, picking weeds, trimming the hedges, and so on. My friend Mara and I always joke around about opening up our own landscaping business. Our slogan would be "we're hot and legal, not like those other guys!" Of course, I am not sure what we would do during the winter months...bartend in the Caribbean? When everyone turned 16 in my town, they got a nice set of wheels. My dad bought me an electric start lawn mower that was self propelled. The best part was, I was okay with this. I think I have been cutting my grass since I was about 7 years old. Occasionally my brother would do it, but I would pitch a fit because he never made nice symmetrical lines on the lawn like I did. When I was living in the city, my father hired someone to cut the grass and I was highly disappointed at the quality of the cut.

Since I am home for the spring and summer months, I decided to earn my free rent by going back to landscaping again. I'm back on the riding mower, weed whacking, and the 16th birthday gift is still going. The other local landscapers on my neighbor's lawns have wondered who I am, but always give a nice wave as if we are buddies. My neighbors still get a kick out of me cutting the grass as well. The flower beds look good, the hedges are trimmed, the grass is always just the right height and recently my landlord (Nick) has asked me to go above and beyond the call of duty and trim these huge pine trees that he planted when I was about 3 years old. I'm up for the challenge, but I might pay off one of my landscaper compadres across the street to do it!

The picture above is of my front yard against the house. I just recently trimmed the hedges and weeded the bed.

Bird's Eye View

I took this picture before landing in Laguardia Airport the other day. It is the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and it connects Staten Island to Brooklyn. It is the longest suspension bridge in the United States and the second longest in the world to Humber Bridge in England. The total span is 7,200 feet from anchorage to anchorage. I thought it was pretty cool that the water looked red due to the sun setting.

Forza Italia

Despite not initially calling for Italy to win this year's World Cup, I could not be happier to see the Azzurri take home the trophy. Even though they did not play great on Sunday and the game was rather lack luster on both sides, Italy played a great tournament (only allowing 2 goals the entire tourney- one of which they scored on themselves against the US). Portugal's Cristiano Ronaldo wins the Hottest Player Award in my book and those who know me, know I have been following him throughout this entire tourney. On the other hand, Italy wins the Hottest Team Award (please note the correlation between greasy, dark haired, olive skin complexion teams).

Since I have plenty of time to read these days, I came across an article in the Navhind Times (the daily paper in Goa, India) with an interesting response from the Italian captain Fabio Cannavaro when asked how he keeps in shape:

“For an athlete it’s as important how you behave off the pitch as you do on it,” Cannavaro said at Tuesday’s press conference. “Eating well, getting plenty of sleep and having sex - all of these things are important. You body needs the right fuel to keep going. I don’t smoke and I don’t drink alcohol, I’ve never liked it. I live a normal, healthy life. I’ve been disciplined for many years and that has served me well.” Asked how often he has sex, Cannavaro replied: “Whenever I want to, it helps me.”

You gotta love Cannavaro (above) and the Italians.