By her, I don't mean an actual her. It's just the allure of jumping head first, without a bungee in tow.
27 September 2009
THIS SPEAKS TO ME
I know I've just gotten to DC, but I can't help but to think that my subconcious wrote this PostSecret :
BANGED MY BUCK
Disclaimer: This is a LONG one. But very much worth it. Your wallet will thank me.
This week was one of the most overwhelming weeks I have had in a while. I've grown accustomed to living a life that should actually have 37 instead of 24 hours a day and thought that I had mastered the art of time management. But, this week proved me wrong. Between class, professional development events, and my actual work, I did not even have time to microwave my freshly bought Lean Cuisines from Target.
Luckily, I had "meetings" during the evening hours that afforded me the time to talk shop AND eat some grub. So this week, I'd like to share my cheap (and quick) eats.
Monday: The objective was to meet up with friends from Institute and trade secrets, share successes, and validate shortcomings. The location was The Red Derby in Columbia Heights. A narrow, divey bar, The Red Derby provides the perfect mood for colleagues that want to vent, especially if there is a good chance that opinionated statements will come out of our frustrated mouths. Their 50% off burgers deal was the added perk to agreeing to walk 10 blocks from my gym into a less than desirable part of the Heights. With their house "Derby" burger (lettuce, tomato, red onion, arugula, avocado & sprouts w/ your choice of cheese) and Bacon Cheddar burger at $5, hamburger at $4, and veggie burger at $3.50 (PLUS! side of french fries or sweet potato fries), it's hard to resist these bargains. And as a burger connoisseur, these prices are far below the quality of their medium rare. The bun was buttered and toasty, the french fries were slim and crunchy, and paired with a $3 PBR...I was already feeling better for the next day. At the Derby on Monday nights, no need to vent feelings when you can just eat them away.
Tuesday: Class night. After a long day of work, all I really wanted to do was spend three more hours receiving information about how I inadequate and uninformed I am at my new position. As I sat through chart sheet after chart sheet of the levels of development, I heard my stomach grumble. And due to the fact that my lunch was comprised of an apple and a Fiber One bar (an entry all on its own), I bee-lined for the metro to get back to my hood for 50 cent Taco Night at Tonic . But as a I darted to the metro, I saw colleagues chatting outside of a Tex-Mex place that has always caught my eye. As I was convinced to stay for both their company and any burrito for $7.99, I sent text messages out canceling on my usual Tuesday night plans. Tortilla Coast , a Capitol Hill must-do, proved worthy of my praises as a self-proclaimed cheapbutgoodfoodista. Selecting their Inside Out Steak and Chicken burrito, I definitely got the most bang for my buck. The steak was seasoned perfectly, the chicken was juicy and light, and the special sauce was truly special. Other burritos included Big House, Big Tex, Veggie, Sunset, and BBQ. As a boy from the Rio Grande Valley in Texas, Tortilla Coast now has a special place in my heart--and five more guaranteed visits so that I can try each and every one of their quality burritos.
Wednesday: After a much-delayed dinner meeting, I made plans to provide some counsel to a good friend from American in regards to his plans to change careers, much like I had just a few months ago. This night I also fulfilled a much-delayed desire to check out the Happy Hour at Ulah Bistro on U Street. A noteworthy DC restaurant, Ulah's prices match the quality of its food. Serving bistro grub to those whose wallets allow for two to three dollar signs ($$$) dining, it is a perfect spot to impress a perspective suitor or a wanted client with its low-lighting and chic U St. vibe. That, dear audience, is not me. Instead, I had my friend meet me at the corner spot of the bar, where we split appetizers ($5 each) and had a couple of Bud Lights ($2 each) to slide the greasy food down the hatch. It was a perfect dining experience for two Fraternity boys, just catching up and shooting the s. Great conversation + calmari with aioli sauce + fries with chipotle mayo + multiple(bud lights) = new favorite double H spot on U Street.
Thursday: THIS IS THE BEST DEAL EVER. My boss, the Doctor, provided Salvadorean catering for dinner, as well as gourmet sandwiches for those who were afraid to venture into the spice-filled world of spanish food. Free, fresh, flavorful. ENOUGH SAID. Advice: work at a place where your boss knows the merits of feeding the masses. (Contact info to come.)
Friday: THIS IS THE WORST DEAL EVER. A few weeks ago, a highly-revered Professor asked if I wanted to accompany her and her Transforming Communities class to a Nationals game--tickets on her. Jumping on the chance to not only meet other like-minded folk, but catch up with one of my favorite professors of all time, I also agreed to meet up for dinner. Dinner was decided to take place at Matchbox on by Eastern Market. Knowing the price range of this fine establishment, I explained to my wallet that I had spoiled her all week and that it's time to open up a bit. I decided to split a large Fire & Smoke pie and enjoy a bowl of crab soup. The very spicy Fire & Smoke is my favorite pie at Matchbox and had dreamt about it all week, thinking about the last time I had it (last September). It is a spicy-food lovers dream: fire roasted red peppers, chipotle pepper tomato sauce, spanish onions, garlic puree, smoked gouda and fresh basil. While the food was amazing as expected, the splitting of the bill was painful as expected. I had asked for a separate check from the beginning, knowing the incompetency of undergrads to divide, let alone fulfill, a bill for a table of 10+. But when the very frantic waitress delivered the check, not only was my part lumped into the check with everyone elses, but she added an extra beer to my seat's charge. To add fuel to the fire, an overeager teenybopper took charge of splitting the bill, a skill that I pride myself on mastering after years of large group dining. Oy gevalt. Needless to say, I paid an extra $6, even though I pointed out the mistake that the waitress made and the poor math skills of this young lady. Calmly, I walked to the beautiful Nats stadium, rationalizing my overpaid bill as no-profits-loss due to the free ticket to the game. Upon arrival, I let go of the evening's stressors and enjoyed the sporting match, where I saw my handsome boys in white lose their 100th game to the Braves. What a way to finish my week of fine dining experiences.
Lesson learned: stick to what I know and what I am good at--deals, drinks and division.
This week was one of the most overwhelming weeks I have had in a while. I've grown accustomed to living a life that should actually have 37 instead of 24 hours a day and thought that I had mastered the art of time management. But, this week proved me wrong. Between class, professional development events, and my actual work, I did not even have time to microwave my freshly bought Lean Cuisines from Target.
Luckily, I had "meetings" during the evening hours that afforded me the time to talk shop AND eat some grub. So this week, I'd like to share my cheap (and quick) eats.
Monday: The objective was to meet up with friends from Institute and trade secrets, share successes, and validate shortcomings. The location was The Red Derby in Columbia Heights. A narrow, divey bar, The Red Derby provides the perfect mood for colleagues that want to vent, especially if there is a good chance that opinionated statements will come out of our frustrated mouths. Their 50% off burgers deal was the added perk to agreeing to walk 10 blocks from my gym into a less than desirable part of the Heights. With their house "Derby" burger (lettuce, tomato, red onion, arugula, avocado & sprouts w/ your choice of cheese) and Bacon Cheddar burger at $5, hamburger at $4, and veggie burger at $3.50 (PLUS! side of french fries or sweet potato fries), it's hard to resist these bargains. And as a burger connoisseur, these prices are far below the quality of their medium rare. The bun was buttered and toasty, the french fries were slim and crunchy, and paired with a $3 PBR...I was already feeling better for the next day. At the Derby on Monday nights, no need to vent feelings when you can just eat them away.
Tuesday: Class night. After a long day of work, all I really wanted to do was spend three more hours receiving information about how I inadequate and uninformed I am at my new position. As I sat through chart sheet after chart sheet of the levels of development, I heard my stomach grumble. And due to the fact that my lunch was comprised of an apple and a Fiber One bar (an entry all on its own), I bee-lined for the metro to get back to my hood for 50 cent Taco Night at Tonic . But as a I darted to the metro, I saw colleagues chatting outside of a Tex-Mex place that has always caught my eye. As I was convinced to stay for both their company and any burrito for $7.99, I sent text messages out canceling on my usual Tuesday night plans. Tortilla Coast , a Capitol Hill must-do, proved worthy of my praises as a self-proclaimed cheapbutgoodfoodista. Selecting their Inside Out Steak and Chicken burrito, I definitely got the most bang for my buck. The steak was seasoned perfectly, the chicken was juicy and light, and the special sauce was truly special. Other burritos included Big House, Big Tex, Veggie, Sunset, and BBQ. As a boy from the Rio Grande Valley in Texas, Tortilla Coast now has a special place in my heart--and five more guaranteed visits so that I can try each and every one of their quality burritos.
Wednesday: After a much-delayed dinner meeting, I made plans to provide some counsel to a good friend from American in regards to his plans to change careers, much like I had just a few months ago. This night I also fulfilled a much-delayed desire to check out the Happy Hour at Ulah Bistro on U Street. A noteworthy DC restaurant, Ulah's prices match the quality of its food. Serving bistro grub to those whose wallets allow for two to three dollar signs ($$$) dining, it is a perfect spot to impress a perspective suitor or a wanted client with its low-lighting and chic U St. vibe. That, dear audience, is not me. Instead, I had my friend meet me at the corner spot of the bar, where we split appetizers ($5 each) and had a couple of Bud Lights ($2 each) to slide the greasy food down the hatch. It was a perfect dining experience for two Fraternity boys, just catching up and shooting the s. Great conversation + calmari with aioli sauce + fries with chipotle mayo + multiple(bud lights) = new favorite double H spot on U Street.
Thursday: THIS IS THE BEST DEAL EVER. My boss, the Doctor, provided Salvadorean catering for dinner, as well as gourmet sandwiches for those who were afraid to venture into the spice-filled world of spanish food. Free, fresh, flavorful. ENOUGH SAID. Advice: work at a place where your boss knows the merits of feeding the masses. (Contact info to come.)
Friday: THIS IS THE WORST DEAL EVER. A few weeks ago, a highly-revered Professor asked if I wanted to accompany her and her Transforming Communities class to a Nationals game--tickets on her. Jumping on the chance to not only meet other like-minded folk, but catch up with one of my favorite professors of all time, I also agreed to meet up for dinner. Dinner was decided to take place at Matchbox on by Eastern Market. Knowing the price range of this fine establishment, I explained to my wallet that I had spoiled her all week and that it's time to open up a bit. I decided to split a large Fire & Smoke pie and enjoy a bowl of crab soup. The very spicy Fire & Smoke is my favorite pie at Matchbox and had dreamt about it all week, thinking about the last time I had it (last September). It is a spicy-food lovers dream: fire roasted red peppers, chipotle pepper tomato sauce, spanish onions, garlic puree, smoked gouda and fresh basil. While the food was amazing as expected, the splitting of the bill was painful as expected. I had asked for a separate check from the beginning, knowing the incompetency of undergrads to divide, let alone fulfill, a bill for a table of 10+. But when the very frantic waitress delivered the check, not only was my part lumped into the check with everyone elses, but she added an extra beer to my seat's charge. To add fuel to the fire, an overeager teenybopper took charge of splitting the bill, a skill that I pride myself on mastering after years of large group dining. Oy gevalt. Needless to say, I paid an extra $6, even though I pointed out the mistake that the waitress made and the poor math skills of this young lady. Calmly, I walked to the beautiful Nats stadium, rationalizing my overpaid bill as no-profits-loss due to the free ticket to the game. Upon arrival, I let go of the evening's stressors and enjoyed the sporting match, where I saw my handsome boys in white lose their 100th game to the Braves. What a way to finish my week of fine dining experiences.
Lesson learned: stick to what I know and what I am good at--deals, drinks and division.
15 September 2009
A HERO BURIED, A LOVE CONFIRMED
Kanye West, why?
While there has been so much media over the Kanye/Taylor Debacle of 2009, I can't help but memorialize my feelings about the incident on the interweb. After all, every contribution to the online community is a worthy one, right? Right.
This next statement has been a long time coming. I HATE KANYE WEST. It's the kind of hate that the toddler-girl had for Ron Burgundy in Anchorman after he nonchalantly told Los Angeles to go procreate with itself.
I used to LOVE Kanye West. Before "Through the Wire" became a huge hit, I knew that he was someone I needed to follow. His ability to merge multiple genres and incorporate wit in hip-pop was love at first listen. Kanye spoke to my soul through his music and aloud me to finally be able to look up to an entertainer. And following his work with respectable artists like Harlem Boys Choir, Jay-Z and Alicia Keys...my obsession became certifiable. Cherry on top? His ghetto prep fashion. He was mine and I was his.
When I decided to discontinue my graduate program at Columbia, I dubbed it my Kanye Moment. I can do without, just like Kanye did.
And then he began to talk crazy. About homosexuals. About the White House. About him being the new King of Pop. And now, about America's current sweetheart, Taylor Swift.
Kanye's fashion followed suit and was as equally as obnoxious as his words. He is a dillusional, arrogant, narcissistic man who has taken self-confidence to a whole new level. He epitomizes everything that I hate in a person. Kanye, you deserve all the heat you get.
To be so obnoxious and hurt other people? That's not the Kanye I fell in love with. You sir, are no longer my hero.
The one thing Kanye did right that night was to open up an opportunity for my one, true love Beyonce Knowles to showcase her good nature and humble personality. In her acceptance speech of the mother of all VMA Awards (Video of the Year - which trumps Swift's Best Female Video), she brings it back to her first moment as a 17 year-old, in Destiny's Child, on the Music Awards stage and how Taylor deserved to feel the same way she had.
What a beautiful soul. Talented and going to heaven. Boy, oh boy, am I jealous of Jay-Z. While Kanye destroyed his reputation, Beyonce verified why has deserved the success that is also known as her life.
I'm in the business of shaping lives and Kanye, I've got advice for you. Walk over to our yellow chair. Sit and close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Exhale. Open your eyes.
If you are going to act like a 3 year-old, I will treat you like one.
Beyonce...you get a star.
While there has been so much media over the Kanye/Taylor Debacle of 2009, I can't help but memorialize my feelings about the incident on the interweb. After all, every contribution to the online community is a worthy one, right? Right.
This next statement has been a long time coming. I HATE KANYE WEST. It's the kind of hate that the toddler-girl had for Ron Burgundy in Anchorman after he nonchalantly told Los Angeles to go procreate with itself.
I used to LOVE Kanye West. Before "Through the Wire" became a huge hit, I knew that he was someone I needed to follow. His ability to merge multiple genres and incorporate wit in hip-pop was love at first listen. Kanye spoke to my soul through his music and aloud me to finally be able to look up to an entertainer. And following his work with respectable artists like Harlem Boys Choir, Jay-Z and Alicia Keys...my obsession became certifiable. Cherry on top? His ghetto prep fashion. He was mine and I was his.
When I decided to discontinue my graduate program at Columbia, I dubbed it my Kanye Moment. I can do without, just like Kanye did.
And then he began to talk crazy. About homosexuals. About the White House. About him being the new King of Pop. And now, about America's current sweetheart, Taylor Swift.
Kanye's fashion followed suit and was as equally as obnoxious as his words. He is a dillusional, arrogant, narcissistic man who has taken self-confidence to a whole new level. He epitomizes everything that I hate in a person. Kanye, you deserve all the heat you get.
To be so obnoxious and hurt other people? That's not the Kanye I fell in love with. You sir, are no longer my hero.
The one thing Kanye did right that night was to open up an opportunity for my one, true love Beyonce Knowles to showcase her good nature and humble personality. In her acceptance speech of the mother of all VMA Awards (Video of the Year - which trumps Swift's Best Female Video), she brings it back to her first moment as a 17 year-old, in Destiny's Child, on the Music Awards stage and how Taylor deserved to feel the same way she had.
What a beautiful soul. Talented and going to heaven. Boy, oh boy, am I jealous of Jay-Z. While Kanye destroyed his reputation, Beyonce verified why has deserved the success that is also known as her life.
I'm in the business of shaping lives and Kanye, I've got advice for you. Walk over to our yellow chair. Sit and close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Exhale. Open your eyes.
If you are going to act like a 3 year-old, I will treat you like one.
Beyonce...you get a star.
12 September 2009
COMEBACK KID
Six months ago, something happened. The decision was made to stop denying joy, to stop making life harder than necessary.
Six months ago, the decision was made that I was no longer going to be a male of two cities.
As much as I loved my time in New York City, I knew that my time was up. By June, it was definite that I would be moving back to Washington, DC--job lined up, lease signed, bags (mentally) packed. It was tough to tell my friends and family that I was moving on, but I knew that "The Fifth Lady" and I wanted different things. In the one year I spent in the Big Apple, I began to find characteristics I did not like about the place. Soon enough, there were fewer things I heart-ed and the things I hated were multiplying like bunnies. So I decided to choose happiness and ran back to the arms of a former lover--Washington, DC.
Disclaimer: This does not mean that I do not love New York City anymore, instead I wanted to avoid hating NYC forever. I just fell out of love.
And so, here we are today. A Male of Two Cities is reborn as The Chicken Bone, a new blog about living based on the same philosophy I apply when scarfing down chicken wings: get the most meat from it and leave only the bones.
Sorry Forrest, life is not like a box of chocolates. If anyone knows anything about me, life is more like a plate of chicken wings--full of spice, filled with flavor, and reasonably priced. My new goal with this blog is to document my journey to the bone. I'll share all the juicy details and meaty stories as I navigate through this savory experience called life.
From food to fashion, movies to books, frustrations to fitness, you can find it memorialized on here. This time, I'll update more frequently and make sure to give you a reason to come back.
After all, who doesn't want to get down to the bone?
Six months ago, the decision was made that I was no longer going to be a male of two cities.
As much as I loved my time in New York City, I knew that my time was up. By June, it was definite that I would be moving back to Washington, DC--job lined up, lease signed, bags (mentally) packed. It was tough to tell my friends and family that I was moving on, but I knew that "The Fifth Lady" and I wanted different things. In the one year I spent in the Big Apple, I began to find characteristics I did not like about the place. Soon enough, there were fewer things I heart-ed and the things I hated were multiplying like bunnies. So I decided to choose happiness and ran back to the arms of a former lover--Washington, DC.
Disclaimer: This does not mean that I do not love New York City anymore, instead I wanted to avoid hating NYC forever. I just fell out of love.
And so, here we are today. A Male of Two Cities is reborn as The Chicken Bone, a new blog about living based on the same philosophy I apply when scarfing down chicken wings: get the most meat from it and leave only the bones.
Sorry Forrest, life is not like a box of chocolates. If anyone knows anything about me, life is more like a plate of chicken wings--full of spice, filled with flavor, and reasonably priced. My new goal with this blog is to document my journey to the bone. I'll share all the juicy details and meaty stories as I navigate through this savory experience called life.
From food to fashion, movies to books, frustrations to fitness, you can find it memorialized on here. This time, I'll update more frequently and make sure to give you a reason to come back.
After all, who doesn't want to get down to the bone?
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