Avoiding Homework

It's the end of the month, so that can mean only one thing - cram as many photos as possible onto Flickr before they take away my free bandwidth. It doesn't roll over so I should probably do that today. It's amazing actually what I will do to avoid homework.

Of course, it's also the end of the year so Happy New Year and all that. Personally, I'd like to close the book on 2008 and just forget it. There were some highlights: Foxy - she's come a long way, and a second trip to Japan to give Mr. K his annual progress report. It was the first one for us, so I think he was lenient. Next year, maybe not so much. Lowlights: Pretty much everything else in between. Just slogging away, trying to get a little further ahead.

Bob came by yesterday with the gifts we didn't get a Christmas. We kinda knew what we were getting, and I'm pleased with the gift. We got some vases, with a bit of an Indian design to them. They are too narrow to have around the house with a toddler. Bob knows we have a kid, right? Just checking. We've had to put them away until she gets bigger. Foxy got lots of toys, and until I could find the off switch we all sang the ABC song about 50 times.

Got some more chocolate from Randy and Kat, and some coffee beans. That gave me a reason to go out and buy a coffee grinder. On the same trip, I popped by my favourite liquor store - union staff but without union hours - and picked up that bottle of Louis Roederer. The clerk was surprised when I asked him about the blackout the other day. He didn't recognize me because I wasn't wearing my fancy interviewing clothes. I was wearing jeans and a tee shirt. Anyway, he's a nice guy and any time I want something I just have to call ahead and he'll put it aside for me. What a guy! He also told me that Roederer is the same company that makes Cristal. Apparently, I'm the last person to learn this. We got some Brut Premier, but that Cristal trivia made me wonder if I would ever by from Roederer again. We'll see how this bottle tastes and then decide.

For some reason, Ali got it in her head that that bottle of Clicquot we drank on Christmas Eve while we ate KFC cost $200.00. Who would pay $200.00 for a bottle of champagne just to waste it on KFC? A Japanese guy would do it, according to Ali. Okay, I might have said the bottle cost $200.00 because you can buy a $200.00 bottle of Veuve Clicquot if you really must, but I'm pretty sure I told her the truth as soon as we sat down to dinner. I have no idea why she still had that number in her head five days later.

I went down to the local last night to relax after a rather difficult assignment, expecting it to be very quiet. I would be able to share recipes with the waitress, and other neat stuff. The place was stacked to the rafters, and that particular waitress was too busy mixing drinks to look people in the face. I ended up taking my two pints to the overflow area. The bar has a restaurant section that operates under a different name, and they close early so when the bar gets crazy the patrons seeking solitude can sneak into the restaurant. I ended up sitting too near a group. My lethal ears - you know, the ones that nearly got me shanked a few years ago - overheard some really juicy tidbits. There was some guy blabbing to his associates and anybody else who would listen about something, and he was quite obviously lying to impress them. Listening to this guy made me a little angry. It wasn't just a few drinks with friends, he was bucking for a job, and lying about his past experiences isn't very nice. I wanted to ask him some questions to embarrass him in front of his potential clients, but I thought better of it. I ordered a third pint, and tried to drown out his lies. I suppose I could have just moved to another part of the bar.

The walk home was fun. A lot of drug dealers asked me if I wanted rock, whatever that is. Even the drug dealer who couldn't speak English. "Hey, amigo. ¿Estás buscando rrrrrrrock?" I thought it was funny how he rolled his r. But then I started to think about the very first book I read without pictures. Night of the Werewolf, by Frank W. Dixon. A Hardy Boys mystery. I don't know why boys read those books. They are poorly written.

I came home and watched part of Blame it on Río. I used to get Joseph Bologna and Alex Rocco mixed up a lot when I was a kid. Then I saw The Godfather and I never confused the two again.

Christmas Waffles

How was your Christmas? Let me tell you about mine. I have this rule, and it goes something like this: To be fair to all members of my rather dispersed family, I should accept the first invitation to Christmas that is offered. That way, I don't become one of those invitation shoppers who holds out until a better one comes along. That's not nice, and it's not really fair either. Of course it also skews the odds in favour of the (seemingly) more organized members of the family. Bob is always the first to invite. He begins his Christmas plans on April 16th, the day after Tax Day. Though every Christmas with Bob, save one is like an extremely painful back massage, I always accept the invite because if I didn't, no one would. Is that a pity RSVP? Not really, there's also a measure of family duty involved. It's like, only one of two times a year that I visit, so I kind of feel that it's unavoidable.

That one Christmas, that really rocked was the year that Bob decided to stop observing Hanukkah, and get with the cool people. He managed to find a restaurant that was open on Christmas. It was the nicest restaurant I'd ever been to up to that time. It was really classy - The waiter brought the turkey to the table first, and then sliced it. All the kids were there, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. And the turkey was the best one ever not cooked by anyone in my family.

It's different now, all the kids are grown up and jaded by adult responsibility. But we're not the only ones. I'm just saying because it's different now. I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but Bob has a way of changing everything at the last minute after everyone else has committed to the original plan. It's his way of maintaining control. He'll do it even when it's someone else's party. I've learned to accept it, and this year was going quite nicely until about a week before Christmas, Bob called and said that things MIGHT be cancelled. The kid brother had mono or something, but we didn't want to tell Bob something he didn't want to know. "It's just whooping cough, nothing a little bit of chicken soup won't fix". But Bob was right to alert me because Foxy hasn't had all of her Pertussis shots yet. She's got one to go. Technically, I think she'd be okay but it's not worth the risk, especially since the kid brother didn't actually have whooping cough, rather something worse.

But then Bob called to say that dinner was back on. This, after I had already wormed my way into Christmas dinner with Sissy and Enzo, and a big delicious plate of Osso Bucco. So now Bob is Waffling, and I'm Waffling by association. I really hate Waffling. Alright, it's settled. I'll just cancel plans with Sissy and hope against everything that Pepper, my front-wheel drive Volkswagen can make it to Bob's without snow tyres.

So after a harrowing week of not having a job, then maybe having a job, then probably not having a job, and then all of a sudden having an awesome job, and the blackout at the liquor store, and the chirpy reporter who ended up printing his story without my comments (whew!), Bob called on December 24th to leave it up to me to decide whether I should attempt the journey the following day. Oh snap! Did he just...? Yes, he did. Bob played the Passive Waffle. And it had extra syrup on it. Whatever, we were committed to going to Bob's place, and we were going to do it. I'm not a Waffler, dammit! I let the indignation dissolve with a bottle of champagne and a big bucket of KFC. Now Christmas Eve can have all the usual fun and excitement, but you can be drunk and oily at the same time too! It's a Japanese thing.

And then on Christmas morning, the coup de grâce. The kid brother called up at half seven and said that there was a blackout at Bob's place, and that dinner was cancelled... I guess. I guess?? Now the kid's a Waffler, too but I didn't take it out on him because he's only Waffling by association, and he's only the messenger. I had to put a stop to it though, so I ignored the "I guess" shit and said that it's cancelled. I waited until a civilized hour to call Sissy and beg for a spot at her Christmas. Luckily, there was still room however we were going to have to transfer vehicles at some point. Don't sweat the small stuff. Just as we were about to leave, the phone rang and Bob apologized for everything and said that dinner was back on. The blackout wasn't his fault, so I told him not to apologize but we had in fact made other plans. We had actually invited ourselves twice to someone else's dinner, and it would be really bad form to cancel now. I kinda felt bad for Bob. I know he only wanted to see his favourite granddaughter. I said we'd try to catch him in 2009 and off we went for some Osso Bucco.

Christmas turned out to be very nice and quaint. Bobby managed to start an argument, even though he was awake for a maximum of three hours during our visit. Christmas night, Foxy came bounding into the living room with my gift. A nice 50 unit size box of Nestlé minis with a coupon for Crayola crayons, and a really nice tie from DKNY that I managed to fray in 5 seconds. The poor chocolate minis didn't survive three days. Ali has requested a deferred gift plan for 2008, so I don't have to worry about that until January.

Boxing Day, we all went to Randy and Kat's place where everyone is a karaoke star. As a little treat for our wives, Randy and I did a duet of Ebony and Ivory. As usual, Ali didn't appreciate it but Kat and Foxy thought it was the funniest thing ever. Randy did his usual Journey tributes, and I did some Scorpions. Ali did some Japanese thingy and some Beatles and Kat did some Pat Benatar and The Jackson Five.

The rest of the Christmas break so far has been focused on homework for me, and Billy's Bootcamp for Ali. I'm trying to figure out something to do for New Year's. Thanks to Yongfook and his suggestion of Louis Roederer, my plan is already half finished.

Best Christmas Present Ever

So yeah, maybe that sounds a little melodramatic, and I know I said that I would not discuss work on this blog but I am gainfully employed once again. I have the world's best recruiter. You know how I work with several different ones, right? Well, the recruiter who landed me this job knocked my socks off. When I first met her, she was in a bit of a panic and was vetting my credentials for another job. I didn't feel comfortable working with her at the time, but a contact is a contact so I kept her card and made sure that I kept her updated. I didn't get the job she had met me for and I kinda figured that would be the last I heard from her. A few weeks go by and I take a look at her website. Hey, what do you know? There's a couple of positions listed right there that would be perfect for me. I called her and let her know that I was interested. I don't know what happened on those jobs, but a week after that she called me and said that I had a job interview the next day with a high profile firm. And she wanted me to get the job. I mean, she called me and prepped me, and prepped me some more. She wanted to make sure I was ready for this company. Oh, and I have the best references too.

The first interview was a piece of cake. The second interview was tricky because its always difficult to schedule around the holidays. By the time the second interview happened, my recruiter was sunning on a deck chair at some timeshare on Maui. But that doesn't mean I wasn't going into this interview cold. She called me the night before from Los Angeles to prep me some more. I've heard of some recruiters who never stop working, but this was ridiculous. It was Christmas and she was travelling. She could have taken a break. I'm reasonable, I would understand. After the second interview, the client made an offer, and that's that. No more talk about work.

Last week, we went to the best first-birthday party I can remember. Enzo J's first was pretty good, but this party had Santa Claus. And Foxy won first prize in a baby foot race. Of course it helped that she was the oldest of all the babies there, and that she could actually run. There were activities for the parents too, which I thought was pretty nice of the host to plan. By the time we arrived at the party, Ali and I were pretty mad at each other. Me because Ali can't ask for proper directions (i.e. proper street names and building numbers) if her life depended on it; and Ali because I kept reminding her of how many times I'd asked her to please get directions before. We lightened up pretty quick though. The birthday girl was subjected to the Trial of Mochi. At least that's what I'm calling it. Apparently, it is a tradition in Hokkaido to see how far kids can schlep four pounds of mochi on their backs on their first birthday. This birthday girl couldn't stand up with it, let alone walk. How embarassing!

Foxy now calls me Daddy, which is better than Mommy and just tonight she started saying her name. She's learning fast, but just when you think she can't get any faster, she does. She now copies me and Ali almost immediately. So now I have to watch what I say.

Pornos on the 6th Floor, Yayu, and a Shiner for Christmas

It's been some time, but I have been fighting a cold for like a month now. What? At least I thought I was. I now believe that I was fighting a cold for a week, and then fell victim to incredibly dry air. That's right. I'm now so old that my physical condition is controlled by my head holes. I mean, I've heard tourists say that we have dry air here, but I've never felt it myself. Not until this year. Nothing like waking up every morning with a sore throat and having it for half the day.

There's also nothing like going out on job interviews with a head cold. People were pretty understanding though. One of my recruiters, the one I was relying on to find me work since August while I did a half-ass search myself has nothing. Literally, they have nothing on their website. No problem, because I have another recruiter that has higher calibre clients. Well, a little problem. That recruiter thought I'd found work on my own so she wasn't looking for me. I don't even need to call her myself to tell her. She's that good. She knows already. I was ready to put my fist down the phone, but since that call she has been pretty aware of what I'm up to. She came across a job for me, but declined it because it was a little shady and not really a position for growth. So that was nice of her.

I networked a little more and have had some progress on a couple of leads. A new recruiter who came to me - Wow that's a first - has put my name in to a law firm. If I get that one, then there will be no further talk of work on this blog. Unless they screw me. The thing is, I met someone a few years ago who works at this firm and I think I might be replacing them. I don't think they could be promoted to be my boss at this point. Awkward. Let's hope they don't remember that we used to be classmates.

I spent most of the time after the initial cold studying for my exam. I think I did pretty well. I could have studied more, but I'm not looking for a gold medal. I just started a new course, and already I'm running into problems. It's a course I've taken before, so I'm not too worried, but Ali sure can be difficult. She wants to go to a Christmas party on the same night I have class. It's not at a gay bar this time. My class is three hours long and it's pretty important because the goyim will be taking a two week break for Christmas and New Year. Okay, so we push the course back two weeks. If only it were that simple, young Hallman. Nobody calls me that anymore. Pity. Back when Bobby and I were in the same classes at school, our teacher used to call us Hallman, and young Hallman but only when we were in trouble, or when our teacher was incredibly annoyed. My name got called more, but that's because Bobby was never there. So Ali wants to go to this party, but nobody's good enough to babysit Foxy. So Ali says that if she can't take Foxy to the party at a hotel bar, then she just won't go. I hate this. There's no reason why Ali shouldn't go to the party on her own. We have a lot of friends who are willing to baby sit, but Ali can't let go. I think I'll be babysitting and missing class.

Randy and Kat came over for Thanksgiving. I served, but I didn't make a turkey. I made ribs again. I'm getting pretty sick of ribs, but I recently overheard a recipe at the local that I might want to try. Yes, I've gone back to my old local. I stopped going to that other place because the waitress tried to take away my tequila. It's okay, she was new. I went down there expressly to sample their tequila which they were very proud of, and while I was there I had a doppelbock, by Celebrator. Not since those heady days in Oklahoma have I tasted such a beer. Oklahoma - the only place I know where Orange Peel can be mistaken for Native American. Yeah, she's brown but so if more than half the world. But she doesn't have a funny accent, so I guess it was an honest mistake - I guess. Down there, it was a six pack of some Texan brewery bock, possibly Shiner by Spoetzl. See, Oklahoma isn't stinking hot in the late spring, early summer. It's Holy Fuck, kill me now hot. And it's humid. That's the worst part. Except for the part where all my relatives from Arizona were there saying stuff like, "This ain't nothing. When we left Phoenix, it was 114 in the shade." So I decided that even though I'm travelling with my tea totalling elders and their apnea machines, I was a grown ass man and I wanted a nice cold beer. Sound good doesn't it? Except bock isn't a nice cold beer. Bock is a nice cold meal. After three - they were weak - I was full. It is the first and only beer to which I said I could not eat another bite. I felt like I was back in that Amish cafeteria in Chouteau, only not as full. The only reason I tried it is because Bobby said Bock is good. Little did I know, but Bobby had never had bock. He was just saying it was good because one of his friends told him it was good.

So fast forward to 2008, and there I am with a doppelbock because hey, if the bock was bad, then a doppelbock should be twice as bad, right? It wasn't. It was actually nice. Then again, I wasn't sick with heat stroke so maybe under the right circumstances I might have liked the Bock. And as I was cleansing my palate for the tequila, the waitress came over and tried to clear the table. What what what? I'm just sipping water, not leaving! That tequila was nice too, but the place has a two drink maximum unless I buy food, so they're kind of saying "Your money isn't good enough, go get your drink on some place else". The next time I went out, I had the cold, and wanted to see if what they say about Guinness is true. So there I was back at my old local with a pint of Kilkenny in one hand and a pint of Guinness in the other. Kilkenny is my new favourite, and as soon as I had cleansed my palate for the Guinness I realized why that one never was my favourite. It definitely has a taste. I had either heard somewhere or had tricked myself into thinking that Guinness could cure a cold, or at least help. I mentioned this to the bartender, and he shook his head and said that whiskey was the answer. The waitress started me off with a peaty, sweet whiskey but I was not satisfied. I asked to see a list so that I knew how to spell what she had given me. Hmmm, I noticed that they had Johnny Walker Green Label. Funny, the week prior another bartender told me that they only had Red and Black. Technically true, but they had a whole bunch more whiskeys that they served in their other bar and not in the beer bar where he was working. This time I asked if I could have Green. The waitress went around to the whiskey bar and brought some back just for me. Why Green? Because that's our drink - my father in law and me. Except he uses it to make gurepufurutu sauwa or grapefruit sours and I never notice the taste because we usually have it after beer. Well, I have to say that Johnny Walker Green is a very nice whiskey. I wouldn't have said that three weeks ago. But the best part was when I went back to the bar a week later and this chick at the bar asked me how my cold was. It was the waitress, having a drink after her shift. We talked about the dry air and she agreed. Her friend, the bartender from whiskey night shared his recipe for ribs, and the waitress gave me a great recipe for corn bread. She told me to come back for the full recipe, but I haven't had time to make the trip. So I polished off my two pints and waited for the music to end. Bronski Beat was playing. Right when it was getting good, the bar manager cut the music and put on some heavy metal. I was the last one in the bar, and made a little fuss because we're all friends. The manager apologized and admitted that he's too young to remember Bronski Beat. Fuck I'm old.

No more bar talk. I came home the other day and the lift opened on the sixth floor because somebody was getting out there. There were a bunch of camera cases stacked on carts in the hallway. Nobody was moving in or out, there were no moving vans near the main entrance. The first thing that came to mind was that there was a film crew making a porno on 6. It's happened before. I also thought about recent problems we've been having with some tenants, but that was a different group. The camera cases were gone the next day. Oh yeah, I've also been preoccupied with the condo association. Not since the 1997 annual general meeting at Nanna's condo in Boca Raton have I experienced such excitement. Some of the owners want new lobby and hallway decor, and they want the rest of us to pay for it. The first vote was defeated. The condo vice president called another meeting a month later, and again the vote was defeated. Well, say what you will about this guy but he sure is plucky. A month after that, he called a new meeting and finally the vote was passed. There's been a lot of negativity created because of this, but I guess the positive is that we're getting a new lobby.

Okay, so the movie part of this post is about The Bank Job starring Jason Statham, the always incredible David Suchet. I don't really remember much about this film, except a lot of naked ladies, and a bank being robbed. I did remember how hot chicks were in the 1970s. That was something I'd forgotten as I grew older. It was a good film, it's just been such a long time since I saw it that I'm low on details. I think the one detractor of the film is that they try to tie a sex scandal allegedly involving Princess Margaret into the plot. Who knows? Maybe it really was the reason that the bank was robbed, but it added an extra storyline that I don't think was entirely necessary. I rented this one because I wanted to see something with Statham in it. That guy never does a bad movie. That said, I've never seen any of The Transporter series. But I just might go see the third one, because it has Statham but it also has Robert Knepper. Who? You might know him better as Teabag or Theodore Bagwell from Prison Break. Sure, he plays a really bad guy, but the important thing is that he plays it well. Ali is totally confused with what's happening on Prison Break this season. She still hasn't booked her ticket to Tokyo. She's waiting for prices to drop a little more. Oh yeah, Mick Jagger is in The Bank Job. See if you can spot him. I admit, I had to rewind (do we say that anymore) and take a good look, but it's him for sure.

I'm not sure how this happened, but Foxy somehow gets Yayu out of her first name. One morning she was sitting in front of the hall closet looking at the mirror and screaming "Yayu, Yayu, Yayu!" repeatedly. I figured she was screaming "Lion, Lion, Lion!" her way which comes out of her mouth as "Yayo..." But this was slightly different. Ali confirmed it, Foxy believes her name is pronounced Yayu. She also believes that Grandma and Grandpa from Tokyo live in my filing cabinet, and that my name is Mommy. She's getting there though, growing up real fast. She got that shiner above her eye after a fight with a laundry basket. You can't take your eye off this kid for one second. Even though she knows she's not supposed to, she likes to climb in the empty basket and try to walk. Off course, the basket tips and her face meets the corner of my maple dresser. Silly girl.