I'm not even supposed to be here today...

Whenever I get a little down, wondering when in the hell I am going to get a job and when in the hell I am going to be able to stop worrying about my "future," I try to take a step back and put things in perspective. The truth is, "I'm not even supposed to be here today!" as Dante famously says in the early '90s no-budget indie comedy classic, "Clerks". I don't mean it exactly like Dante does, though.

I am not unhappy that I am somewhere I am not supposed to be. In fact, I am happy that I am somewhere I am not supposed to be. And by all reasonable expectations, I really am not "supposed" to be in San Francisco. Following reason and logic and prudence alone, I had no business quitting a job and leaving New York and I really should not be here.. according to the "rules," I am not supposed to be in San Francisco today. Well, I am awfully glad that I am in San Francisco today and when I think about this I realize that each day here is a gift I might not have had, and that makes them all that much sweeter.

Jesus, this sounds like I beat cancer or something, doesn't it? Shit. I don't mean to be that dramatic or equate my bullshit/semi-irresponsible wanderings with any legitimate life or death accomplishments. But, I think you get my meaning...

Anyway, what am I doing with all these days I shouldn't have had? Funny you should ask... I just so happen to have a few stories I haven't told yet.

Let's see... first of all, let me put my recommendation in for Lake Tahoe right now. If you haven't been, believe me, you should all go there! It is PRETTY! You know, nature and stuff! Go there, climb on some rocks, breathe deeply the fresh mountain air, you will feel good about yourself, I promise. A few months ago (pre-snow, as you can see) Jesse and I began to feel the itch, the kind of itch only a poker game can soothe. We decided to take a little drive for a one night stay in South Lake Tahoe, about three hours away, straddling the border of California and the beautiful, beautiful legal gaming establishment mecca that is the state of Nevada. The casinos were pretty nice, the action was pretty good, and we gambled the night away as planned. OK, a casino is a casino, I know; we love to gamble, but maybe you couldn't give two shits. Point is, Lake Tahoe is fuckin' beautiful and you should all go there! In the end I left most of my money at the casino, but my mind was rich (see what I did there?) with amazing scenery and I was fully satisfied. Also supremely satisfying was Heidi's, the breakfast restaurant directly across the street from our little motel. Joel says, "Go to Heidi's for the best corned beef hash! You won't be disappointed!"

On the way home we stopped at an indian casino just to check it out.. This sign about sums it up.

Back in San Francisco and wandering rather aimlessly one afternoon, Jesse and I stumbled upon The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill, and yet another lovely man date developed. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Anyway, "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill" is the name of a movie about the real-life flock of cherry-headed conures that live mostly on Telegraph Hill, which is only a few blocks from where we live. These are famous birds! And I fed them! And it felt funny! Hey, that tickles! When we found them there was a man there feeding them from a big bag of sunflower seeds and he offered us some to try it. He did tell us not to post the pictures on the internet, though, because it is illegal to feed the parrots.. oops, too late, the pictures are clearly already here, but I promise no birds were harmed in the making of this blog and all names have been changed to protect the innocent (this "man" I speak of may not have even been a man.. maybe he was, maybe he wasn't.. what's it to ya, Johnny Law?).

Sometime before or after the parrots (who cares when, really?) we all went to a pinata party. Yes, a pinata party. This one was mostly for hipster-inclined adults and took place at the hipster-oriented art gallery literally at the corner of our street, 30 seconds away. So, you see, minimal effort was required on our part, there was promise of free drinks, and these pinatas were no ordinary pinatas. We could not refuse this invitation. What you are looking at to the left there is a whole living room set made of pinata... Weee! I will save the details, as Danie already told the story so well (with pics and video) on her blog here. But let me assure you, pinatas were, in fact, harmed in the making of this party.. violently, viciously, repeatedly harmed. There are more pics and a longer, more embarrassing video here, featuring Danie, Jesse, and me standing around in the front row looking upon the scene awkwardly. Well, I was definitely looking awkward, anyway. I was thinking something like, "These hipsters are ridiculous, why do they anger me so?, fuck, it's crowded in here, I can't move forward or backward, I'm hot, I'm cold, what do I do with my hands?, I need another drink so I have something to do with my hands, the drink line is too long, fuck, I hate crowds, somebody just touched me, yikes!, I hope these angry emo kids don't hit me with that bat!, I want out before this gets ugly!, Ooooo, candy!, Can we go now?, Is there free food here?"

Next, here a few pictures from various excursions that I just wanted to share with you quickly. One day I went to the Exploritorium in the Presidio, another day I went to the California Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park, and another day I went ice skating on the Embarcadero with Danie.. Look, there she gooooooooes in the red jacket. The turtle was at the Cal Academy and he moved about as slow as I did on ice skates. The best part of all this activity is I spent exactly zero dollars to do all of it! I went on the once-a-month free days at the museums and Danie's work sponsored the free ice skating. We even got free pizza at the ice rink! In fact, we got just a little too excited by free pizza and quite overdid it. Thankfully, I did not fall, for if I had there would have been pizza puke all over the ice and that would not have been pretty and I would not have felt good about myself.

Just last week - and just a day before he was deemed "too fat to fly" by Southwest Airlines - I got a chance to see Kevin Smith do a q & a session at the Macworld 2010 expo. Ahh, so.. it all comes together: I go to Macworld (again for free!), Kevin Smith was there, he wrote and directed "Clerks," I enjoyed his show very much, I get inspired to write a little, and so I steal one of his lines as the title and unifying theme of one of my blog posts. Incidentally, I can attest to the fact that he ain't that fat in real life and Southwest really screwed things up, bad. Also, by the way, Macworld was as fine a conglomeration of geeks, nerds, and dorks, myself included, as you'll find anywhere this side of the Mississippi. The nerd cowboy in the picture to the left is a long way from the nerd ranch (according to his t-shirt), but he found plenty of other like minded cowboys at this rodeo.

Finally, here is one more picture from the end of another long walk through the streets of San Francisco. This is a shot from China Beach, in the posh Sea Cliff neighborhood, overlooking some orange bridge they tell me is pretty famous.. Once again, I wasn't even supposed to be there..

Del Boca Vista

One day not too long ago I was wasting time, looking at stuff on the internet. In that way it was a day not unlike today and many, many others... until I stumbled onto Virgin America's flight reservation page. My first thought was, "This was not the kind of 'virgin' I had in mind! Stupid interweb!" But seriously, folks, virgin is a funny name for an airline... Anyway, once there, I found that I could fly from San Francisco (SFO) to Ft. Lauderdale (FLL) for $212 total, tax included! This was an offer I could not refuse, so I called up the parents and the trip was set. Del Boca Vista, here I come!

Admittedly, the price was the hook, but there were other legitimate "reasons" to go to Florida in Mid-January, as well. In fact, they were three-fold: My grandparents' 63rd anniversary (Jesus!), my grandfather's 88th birthday (Christ!), and my desire to see my parent's (Awww... there they are on the beach in Delray). So, off I flew on the red eye to South Florida. Virgin America planes are pretty nice - they have a TV in each seat and all - but.. any meager snack would cost you at least three bucks and heaven forbid you'd like a blanket and a pillow on a RED EYE.. that "nap pack" will cost you $12! Flying sucks! But, alas, I didn't have time to drive to Florida so this had to do. Whatever.

I arrived to FLL safe, sound, and tired, but happy to see my mom and dad and happy to be whisked off to breakfast at their favorite local deli. We all ate well and then it was clearly nap time. I slept for a good 5 or 6 hours and when I woke up the first thing we had to do was take a hack saw to the legs of a table in order to make it 3 inches shorter and better for my mom (who is shor.. uh, petite) to sit at. My dad had been dying to saw and/or burn something with me since he found out I was coming.. we are dudes, this is what we do. Check him out in his Devil's Lake, ND souvenir t-shirt, hack-sawing to town!

When we weren't sawing stuff, we watched lots of Pawn Stars on TV, made rye bread, went to the gazebo on the water behind their community, and saw Avatar again... this time in full-on Imax 3-D, baby! Blew my parents' minds. Mom and I also went to the mall and it struck me that I wasn't sure if the mall or it's clientele were more dead. You see, the economy sucks and people in Florida are old. Funny!

After a few days we drove to Tampa, where the rest of the family lives. Along the way is 'Alligator Alley', a stretch of I-75 that goes east-west through the Everglades. My mom said she saw actual alligators beside the road.. Florida is kind of a strange place. My visit was a surprise to everyone in Tampa.. My aunt Arlie says she suspected I was coming, but I think we still got her pretty good. In Tampa I saw all my family, took some walks, had some dinners, and chomped on some see-gars with my Grandpa. He worked at Cuesta-Rey cigars for over 30 years and still smokes and/or chews on two cigars a day.. and he's 88, so something must be working. We also had a poker night.. and, you know, I am always up for a poker game! Below is the story of that night in pictures.. notice the high roller buy-in.

After I lost my shirt (about 75 cents) in poker it was time to drive back to South Florida. We all went to the beach one more time and then it was time to go before I knew it. I hadn't even gotten the chance to wreck a Cadillac or get the condo board to impeach my dad. Oh well, next time I'll bring a Wizard organizer and an astronaut pen and we'll stay on schedule. These are all Seinfeld references, in case you're lost. They make me laugh.

After saying goodbye to my parents I waited in the airport for boarding time.. and waited.. and waited.. and waited some more. My flight was delayed three hours due to inclement weather in SFO. So, to kill time, I had some sliders and a beer at the in-terminal Chili's. While I ate, a lady approached my table looking a little bewildered. She asked, "Is that a burger? 'Cause I don't want chili... They serve things besides chili?" I assured her it was indeed a burger and, yes, they actually serve lots of things besides chili - in fact, I don't know if they serve chili at all. She then asked how the burger tasted, "Is it as good as McDonald's?" she asked. "Even better," I said, actually lying twice in the space of two words. Oh Florida, I'll miss thee and thy wacky peoples.

I did bring back a taste of Florida to San Francisco, though.. A bag of fresh key limes. I was determined to make Danie and Jesse a key lime pie.. to the right is the result of my effort. Look at me, breaking out the pastry bag and the garnish.. fancy! It tasted as good as it looked (if I do say so myself) and it reminded me of home. Florida will always be in my genes.

A Dozen Roses and A Samurai Sword

I have now been in San Francisco for almost four months. Wow... time really does fly when you're having fun. And I really have been having fun. Things aren't perfect, it'd be nice to have a job or, you know, some source of income so I could, ya know, pay for things... but life continues to be good. I'm alive, I'm healthy, and I'm trying damn hard to enjoy what I have and where I am. Where I am is a great place with great friends and that is at least two of the most important things in life.

Anyway, that first paragraph was mostly therapy for me.. gotta remind myself of these things every so often! Now, to deliver on the promise of the title of this post: A few weeks ago I caught a BART train to Berkeley just to scope out the scene, stroll around campus, gawk at some coeds, etc... On the train was a man. A very special man. Probably a hobo, possibly drunk, likely crazy, definitely holding a dozen red roses in one hand and a samurai sword in the other. Now, I have seen some shit on the NYC subways in my day, but nothing quite like this! Thinking back, I realize that if this man had looked like Comic Book Guy, maybe I wouldn't have thought twice... a samurai sword would be a perfectly reasonable gift for any woman who loves Comic Book Guy. I imagine that woman loves samurai swords and World of Warcraft in equal measure. However, this man was no lovably geeky fat man. No, the man before me was a haggard, post-apocalyptic-looking, world weary homeless person who probably had a very long and colorful history with the women in his life. The roses say he cares, the samurai sword says he cares... TO DEATH!! Du-du-daaaaa! He was quite the sight, pacing around the train for a minute before finding a seat, one down and facing me. Awesome. I avoided eye contact at all costs, obviously, but in my periphery I could see him set down the roses and begin to unsheathe and sheath his sword, ominously eyeballing the blade as he slid it in and out. Was I being punked here? Come on, this guy was just too much! I wasn't worried about myself really, but I was definitely growing more and more concerned for whoever was on the receiving end of those roses. I had to get off at the next stop but I took one last, long look at samurai man... I haven't heard anything in the news about a samurai killing but I am prepared to pick him out of a line up if necessary. The end.

When I got to Berkeley I looked around a used bookstore then headed to the UC Berkeley campus. The campus is beautiful and the people on it are, too. Just a little too beautiful. In fact, the more I walked around, the more I began to feel old, fat, and dumb. I mean I don't really think I'm any of those things (not quite yet, anyway), but, man, seeing all those good looking 22-year-olds running around with books and purpose and stuff will give a man a complex. Not to glamorize college.. been there, fully aware that it's not necessarily all it's cracked up to be. But, sheesh, relative to being unemployed (voluntarily, but still..) in the real world with no real great way to meet members of the opposite sex, college seems like a fuckin' utopia. Maybe one day I'll die and go to Berkeley. And all the girls will love my hat and want to do me.

By the way, the world can thank Danie and Jesse for my new hat.. One of the best birthday presents ever! I always wanted to wear a hat like this because all the cool dudes in old movies where them. Frankly, I never thought I was cool enough to pull it off, but, check me out, clearly I am way cooler than I thought. I think I would have liked the days when everyone wore fedoras all the time... why did that period end anyway, I wonder? It's kind of a timeless look I think and I always wanted to be a sort of timeless guy.

Speaking of movies, they have been my primary diversion since I've been here (and all my life, really). Jesse loves movies, too, and we have been hitting the theaters hard, seeing everything from old Hitchcock and French New Wave movies to Avatar and District 9. There are two primary independent theaters we have been frequenting, The Castro Theatre and The Red Vic. One is a beautiful, huge, old 1920's movie palace, the other a dark, dingy, tiny, church basement-looking hole. They each serve their purpose, but the palace is definitely the place to be. Some of the highlights from our movie diet include: The 400 Blows, The Hurt Locker, The Godfather I and II, Panic in Needle Park and Serpico, District 9 and Alien, Rear Window, Marnie and Rebecca, Moon, Whatever Works, A Serious Man, Where the Wild Things Are, and Up In The Air. We all went to the Godfather double feature at the Castro.. over 7 hours of movie for 10 bucks! That's a lot of sitting, and our butts did hurt, but you can't beat the value. I remember it being a really happy day.. I woke up feeling good, the weather was perfect, I took a nice long walk, bought rye flour at Whole Foods, had a fish taco lunch at Pancho's (our favorite local Mexican place), and then watched two classic movies on a giant screen in a very cool theater with my friends.. a good day! We were reminded of some important lessons from The Godfather, too: never take sides against the family; no offense to your present consigliere, but sometimes you're gonna need a wartime consigliere; and, finally, leave the gun, take the cannoli.

This weekend Danie and Jesse are in Mexico so I have the house to myself. Today I am going to take a break from lounging around the house naked and head down to the Castro for another double feature: Niagara and The Asphalt Jungle, both classic film-noir starring Marilyn Monroe. It's part of the Noir City film series... the poster's cool:

I imagine there will be lots of great hats being worn in these films. It seems like the perfect occasion to wear my hat, although I fear it may be too much like wearing a band t-shirt at that band's concert.. know what I mean? Ahhh, screw it, I'm doing it.. I look too damn cool in that hat not to wear it.

PS. Don't plan on using "A Dozen Roses and A Samurai Sword" as the title for your next movie because I am already planning on that.. hereby copyrighted.

Bread, the stuff of life

My new year's resolution: Make and eat lots of bread! Of course, this is hardly a stretch as I have been doing this pretty much all my life. I literally teethed on a frozen bagel and my dad has been a semi-pro baker for as long as I can remember... The Kodish cheesecake is legendary (if you haven't tried it, I'm truly sorry for you). Also, carbs are a staple of traditional Jewish cooking... carbs wrapped in carbs inside of other carbs served on top of yet other carbs, in fact. So, I think bread is just in my genes.. I like to imagine my insides are made of dough, not blood and guts.

San Francisco is famous for sour dough, of course, and I have been known to make a meal of an entire loaf of the stuff, seen above with clam chowder in it and being made at the famous Boudin Bakery. It is deeeelicious. However, ever since I have been here, and living with people other than myself, I have rediscovered my own fondness for baking. Having an appreciative audience is really all the difference for me. I can never seem to get motivated to do much cooking or baking for only old lonesome, lazy me. That's just the way it is, I guess. But now I'm sharing space with two other stomachs and about all I can afford to contribute is baked goods. So, one day I took out a box from my car and found a great baking book that my dad had given me. Inspiration struck!

I started with an experimental almond apple pie.. not bad, shoulda been sweeter. Next I moved on to a braided Challah loaf (hey gentiles, challah=egg bread). I must say, it came out amazing! Texture, flavor, and crust were spot on. We devoured that pretty quickly and at this point I became very cocky. I was a great baker! My people loved me! Then I tried a raisin bread.. meh. Danie said it was good, but I had high standards now and I was disappointed. Nothing a little more cinnamon won't fix next time, though, I think.

Then I picked up some supplies at Whole Foods for my next project, a rye bread. It looks great, I'll give it that, and it even tasted great, but... I think it was just a little underdone.. d'oh! This one really pissed me off because it was soooo close to being awesome. After this I needed to take a break from bread, step back and reevaluate some of my techniques. In the meantime, I made some pecan chocolate chunk cookies.. good, but just a little overdone this time. Shit! Strangely, though, they got better the second day. In fact they were really soft and chewy and excellent the second day.. turns out Danie had put a piece of regular sandwich bread in the cookie tin overnight and somehow, miraculously, that cured what ailed them. I had never heard of that old wives trick.. it's a goodun!

With that small victory under my belt I returned to bread making with a pumpernickel... a pumpernickel that just would not rise.. craptastic! I blame the yeast. Rapid-rise yeast sucks, just so you know. The dough just lay there, unmoving and sad, and I was sad, too... But I picked myself up by my apron strings and refused to let the dough beat me! Eventually, after a whole day on the floor in the sun, me keeping a keen eye on it (by keen, I mean obsessed), it rose enough (sorta, kinda) to warrant a baking. It came out OK I guess.. too small and the flavor (from unsulphered molasses) was a little weird to me, but it made decent toast anyway. After this debacle I needed a morale boosting guaranteed victory, so I made another Challah and some Challah rolls. Again, these came out beautiful and the loaf made it all the way to North Dakota. I think that may be the farthest and oddest trip any challah bread has ever made. 

Most recently I've made pretzels, potato buns, and knishes.. and I'm happy to say I was pleased with all of them. The potato buns and knishes, in particular, came out just how I wanted them to. Jesse and I made totally from scratch pulled pork sandwiches on the potato buns and the knishes made a great Christmas dinner side dish. I used my great bubbe's (grandma's) recipe for the knishes, which was pretty cool to think about. I think she would have been proud. By the way, one of Great Bubbe's favorite Yiddish expressions was one of the all-time great bread-related put downs: "lig in drerd and bock bygel". This means to "lie down in hell and bake bagels". As in, "You don't like it, you can go to hell and bake bagels!" How awesome is that expression, huh? Even the Jewish version of "fuck off" involves bread!

The point of this post was not really to show off my own amateur baking skills, though. It was really just to extol the virtues of bread, glorious, glorious bread! My single favorite thing to eat! I'm a little hard to please when it comes to my own baking (I demand perfection!)... But really, I love it all! I haven't met a bread I wouldn't eat everyday and twice on.. everyday, really. In all shapes, sizes, and flavors. As the foundation of a sandwich, as toast, in bagel form, with butter, just totally plain, whatever.. if it's made of flour and water, I love it and want to eat it. Bread sustains us! A world without carbs is no world at all... Amen.

Also this, I still love me some gambling:

I have registered to play in the PokerStars World Blogger Championship of Online Poker! The WBCOOP is a free online Poker tournament open to all Bloggers, so register on WBCOOP to play.
Registration code: 126547         

Let the Wild Rumpus Begin!

As of today it is officially Christmas week. For me, this also means it is officially the week of my birthday. That's right, two very important, dead sexy Jews have birthdays this week. Me and Jesus. I'm one day older than him, which totally burns him up by the way. Whenever we are arguing about something and we come to an impasse I can always pull out the "Well, I'm older and wiser than you" card. God, that just kills him.

Anyway, when I am not busy holding it over Jesus, I usually just try to get through the holidays and my birthday without causing or participating in too many scenes. I don't mind my birthday generally, but being the center of attention is just about the opposite of what comes naturally and comfortably to me. It's nice to know people care about me and all, but I don't need any special attention, really. As for Christmas, I got nothing against the Goys and their traditions; the spirit of giving and family togetherness can be truly magical. But does the mall have to be so fucking crowded? I mean really. Still, however awful the holiday music and all the shopping is, I mostly like the Christmas idyll of families and friends getting together and doing nice things for each other. That sounds like a grand idea to me. Like I said, I don't begrudge them their holiday... It's theirs, they can have it.

I like Chanukah just fine. Obviously I am not very (read: at all) religious, but the way Chanukah (or however the hell you spell it) manifests itself in the secular world is, just like Christmas, simply an excuse to be with and/or express your love for your loved ones. Plus, we got latkes! Jewish hash browns! They are sooo good, and I don't know why they are a once a year thing.. in fact, I am hereby proposing a year long latke party in 2010. Let's all do it! Latkes all year baby, break out the sour cream and apple sauce! Or, if you're a Goy, go ahead and put ketchup or salsa on that potato pancake, I won't mind, this is not a private party. Everyone's invited: young, old, black, white, straight, gay, Jew, non-Jew, anybody who loves fried potato!

This year, on the third night of Chanukah (in case you missed it above, please do click here for a cool holiday song that made me laugh a lot) I found myself in San Francisco's Union Square in the middle of one of those scenes I am not normally fond of. It was crowded with shoppers, tourists, passersby, hobos, and... Jews, lots of genuine, out in the wild Jews. You see, I had gone here to witness a menorah lighting ceremony. It took some convincing by my mom, and Danie, to get me out of the house, but this free event promised Jewish music, a giant, old menorah, open flames, and "local dignitaries"... Ultimately, how could I refuse?

The first thing I noticed was the first thing I am sure most of the tourists noticed as they happened upon this scene. A seemingly crazy bearded dude in a black hat and suit dancing solo to the blaring Hebrew techno music. Of course, I knew this fellow was a rabbi and his dancing, while ridiculous and quite funny, was enthusiastic and pretty charming. The crowd was enchanted by him, for sure. And then I noticed there was someone, or something, else out there with him. What's better than a rabbi dancing with himself? A rabbi dancing with a Wild Thing!! Yes! One of the Wild Things from Where The Wild Things Are was out there dancing right along side him, hands in the air, hips swinging, feet stomping. Apparently, Wild Things are Jewish. Later, I met the Wild Thing up close.. his name is Louis, he had a hard time navigating the wet stairs on his way out, and his handler in the green hat gave me a couple of two for one tickets to the Contemporary Jewish Museum. Ahh, so, it all made sense now... The Jewish Museum currently has a Maurice Sendak (author of Wild Things) exhibit and this was free publicity. Whatever the reason, I consider it a Chanukah miracle that there turned out to be something worth seeing at this event. No local dignitaries ever did materialize, but, as darkness fell, the rabbi stopped dancing and brought out the torch. I was concerned for his beard, but he managed to not catch himself on fire as he climbed the stairs to the top of the menorah and did his prayers and whatever else they have to do before lighting the candles. And that was it, the festivities were over. I was out already, though, and it was a nice night, so I took a little walk through the crowds of Union Square until I found some half price, $3 gloves at H&M. That satisfied my itch to shop and I decided that was more than enough dealing with the crowds for one day and I booked it home.

And that was the story of my big holiday outing this year. Merry Christmas/Happy Chanukah/Happy New Year to all! May all our new years be filled with peace and love! Forgive me, I've been in San Francisco almost three months and the hippie is seeping in! Also, a very happy Festivus to all my Festian, or is it Festivish (??), friends! Dan and Kash, I hope you dominated your Feats of Strength.

I think 2010 is gonna be good. We got the latke party going for us.. and other good stuff is bound to come up, right? I'm sure it will. So, for now I say, "Let the wild rumpus begin!"

A NoDak Thanksgiving - On The Road Again, Part 2

The next morning, Thanksgiving Day, I awoke in a basement in North Dakota for the first time in my life and in my post-deep-REM-sleep stupor I momentarily had absolutely no fucking idea where in the hell I was. When I came to and remembered, it still didn't make a whole lot of sense to be waking up in a basement in North Dakota, but at least I knew I had not been abducted and would not have to fight my way out with this stuffed fish, a plan I had imagined when I saw him the night before. In fact, I was quite comfortable in my bed and by the squeak of the floorboards above me and the smell of toast wafting down, I knew breakfast proceedings were underway and I couldn't think of anything better in the world at that moment but to have a big, home-cooked, family style breakfast. The food and the company did not disappoint and this was only the beginning of a long, glorious day of eating and relaxing. We all knew there was a huge, traditional holiday dinner awaiting us and yet we still had a big breakfast and an even bigger lunch, only a couple hours later. Lunch consisted of cheese, salamis, shrimp, deviled eggs, a beef ball, crackers, and more that was way too hard to resist eating too much of.. so we generally did not resist. Somehow there was just gonna have to be room in our bellys for everything. On this day we would not deny ourselves anything!

As I mentioned in Part 1, dinner itself was an incredible display of traditional turkey (juicy, beautiful, seen to the left), smoked turkey (awesome and even awesomer cold sandwiches later), ham (sweet succulent swine), and all the trimmings you'd expect, all done perfectly. One unique addition to the table was the traditional Norwegian tortilla-like flatbread called lefse. In case you didn't know, North Dakota and other parts of the upper mid-west are full of Norwegian descendants and Jesse's family is no different. Lefse is one of those things Norwegian kids grow up eating and will always hit that perfect soft spot in their heart and stomach, so Jesse was in heaven. The traditional way to eat it is to spread it with butter, sprinkle a healthy dose of sugar on it, roll it up and enjoy... and enjoy we all did. I also brought a home-made Jewish tradition of my own to the party, the challah bread pictured here (I made it the day before we left, the rolls were meant for turkey sandwiches, they did not, however, make the trip.. I just couldn't resist eating them fresh.. I'm weak.. but look at them, aren't they pretty?! They demanded to be eaten right there and then). Anyways... after dinner there was, of course, dessert, and, just before we slipped into the inevitable food coma, pumpkin pies and pumpkin cheesecake made their appearance and proved to be the perfect ending to a beautiful meal. Soon we all retired to the living room to bask in the glow of our full stomachs and an HDTV. Even then, as we began to vegetate after this huge meal, I began to daydream of how good the leftovers were going to be.. speaking of which, do you know what you do with the leftovers in North Dakota? Just put them outside... good as any fridge. Man, I'm such a Florida kid, huh? Stuff like that (and having basements) is so foreign and gee-wiz impressive to me!

The next thing I remember is watching the show Deadwood on DVD. This show came to be sort of a soundtrack to our trip (a soundtrack with very, um, colorful language, as you know if you've seen the show). Once we started watching, it seems like we didn't stop, and that was OK with me. Wow, why wasn't I watching this show before?! Awesome, dirty, over the top, grotesque but really well acted cowboy melodrama.. I'm hooked. Check it out if you don't mind your cowboys and whores swearing even more than modern day sailors.

Two gambling adventures are next in my memory, one sad and frustrating, the other with a much happier ending. First up, me and Jesse (seen to the left, in happier, post-Thanksgiving-dinner times), being the sick degenerates we are, of course found our way to the local Indian casino to try our hand in their poker tournament. Well, this turned out to be a pretty miserable experience start to finish. We really should have never put our money down once we saw this place, but by the time we realized just how bad this was going to be, it was too late, the tournament had already started. Nobody but us really cares why this was such an awful tournament, I guess, but trust me, it was. The dealers were terrible, the structure was ridiculous, the players were old cranky farmers who all knew each other and had way deeper pockets than us. All in all a big waste of money.. and it's a dry casino, too. No booze! Who ever heard of such a thing?! We couldn't even drown our sorrows.

On the other hand, and against all reasonable expectations, bingo at the Knights Of Columbus was a joy! Danie, Lucy, Lucy's mom, and I spent Saturday afternoon playing bingo and pull tabs (North Dakota version of lottery scratch offs, basically) at the local KOC around the block. Now, Lucy and I are old pros from our days on the Vegas bingo circuit, where the competition is fierce and the stakes are high. We started as mere amateurs, but we had a passion to learn and were willing to pay our dues and work harder than anybody else, and by the time we each left Vegas we had slowly but surely worked our way up through the ranks. We were at the top of our bingo game. So, Devil's Lake bingo was not nearly as intimidating to us as it would be to most of you unschooled, wannabe bingo pros. And it felt good to get back in the saddle again! We all daubed our hearts out and were having fun, but, alas, victory was eluding us. It was down to the last game of the afternoon, do or die. As the game went on and on, the old man kept calling numbers and more numbers, the tension in the air was thick as the regulars anticipated a bingo call with every new number called.. surely this was the number that would end the game! I was only one number away, myself, and we were all getting so tantalizingly close. Finally, I hear "B... 5"... Bingooooo! I've got bingo! I had won! Victory was mine! $49 cold hard cash, baby! You may not be as naturally gifted as me, but if you practice hard enough and dedicate yourself to the craft of bingo, I know one day you, too, can be as good a bingo player as me... Just don't give up! On the way out, the nice old lady that ran the game told me she was glad I won because I "showed the ladies how to play"! That's right, ladies! How do like me now?

After bingo I partook in yet another very manly pursuit.. Me, Jesse, and Jesse's dad went out and shot the shit out of some shit! Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about! We drove out to the middle of nowhere, popped the trunk, loaded up, threw a Coke can out in a field, and took aim... you can call me Dead Eye Joel now. Seriously, for never having fired a rifle before, I feel like I acquitted myself pretty well.. I made that can dance like a summabitch! Check me out, from the back I could pass for a real country boy couldn't I? Pretty sure I would cry if I shot anything other than a can, though.

And then before we knew it, it was time to drive back home. 29 hours, 1,846 miles back home. I think we all could have stayed another couple days at least, but some people have jobs and some people had to get back to San Francisco to go to them. Personally, I could have stayed in that basement a while longer... Jesse's parents were very kind and hospitable to me and I thank them very much for having me. I really enjoyed my time in the upper Mid-West! Although, in a way I'm sad I missed the -20 temps, it would have been quite the new experience.. but mostly I'm happy I didn't have to deal with that craziness. The ride home was clear and largely uneventful. Jesse and I were feeling sick, so we were either stoned on Nyquil, sleeping in the back seat, or it was our turn to drive for four hours. Danie straight up refuses to get sick, so she was fit as a fiddle and probably drove an extra hour here and there. We got home at about 4pm and I went directly to sleep. I went on to sleep for what seemed like three days straight... I was out of it. Thus ends our NoDak adventure. Will any of us want to drive that much again any time soon? Absolutely not. Will we do it again ever? Maybe, just maybe...

A NoDak Thanksgiving - On The Road Again, Part 1

If my life were the star ship Enterprise, and my mission was to "Boldy go where no Jew has gone before," then going to Devil's Lake, North Dakota for Thanksgiving would be the logical next step. As it is, I am not Capt. Picard-berg, and a Hyundai Accent makes a poor substitute for the Enterprise (sorry, Accents, you know I love you, but I think we can all agree you are no Enterpise). However, I did, in fact, go to NoDak for Thanksgiving and it turned out to be one of the best experiences of my life.

You see, Jesse's family is in Devil's Lake, and it being Thanksgiving and all, he wanted to go home. Only thing is.. it's a 29 hour freakin' drive! Each way! Ouch. But flights were super expensive and with there being three of us here now it was theoretically possible to drive straight through, rotating shifts of driving and sleeping, none of us having to drive for more than four hours at a time. Since I have no job and generally nothing else to do, I immediately told them to count me in and once we all committed to do it, we were excited. Vacation! Road trip! We must be fuckin' nuts! That was surely the sentiment most people had when we told them our plan.. and they were probably right. We had to admit that it did sound crazy. 29 hours straight driving to get to... where was that again? North Dakota? What the...?? Surely we wouldn't make it, we would freeze our balls off, and/or we would all hate each other by the time we got there. Obviously, we had our doubts and our doubters. Well, I am pleased to say we proved them all wrong. (And if I could have pre-visioned the above meat platter and the rest of the deeelicious Thanksgiving dinner, I would never have had any doubts at all... the food was maybe worth the whole trip!)

Frankly, at this point, the drive there is a total blur of roads, trucks, gas stations, snacking, sunsets, sunrises, and fitful sleeping. I know we were all full of adrenaline to be getting out of the city for a while and we were well stocked with road food and road music, but other than that I don't remember many specifics. I know the first gas stop we made was in Sparks, NV, which is really just Reno. It was probably the coolest truck stop/casino/gun museum you're ever likely to see. To the left you see Wyatt Earp's gun, they also had John Wayne's spurs and at least two full walls of other guns and memorabilia.. Northern Nevada baby!

There were a few wrong turns around the Idaho/Montana border but the roads were clear and the weather was great and amazingly it seemed like we were in North Dakota before I knew it. Even though we had spent over a full day in the car, somehow it felt to me like we had gone through a time warp or a wormhole (to continue with the Star Trek motif). Simultaneously, it physically felt to me exactly like we had spent 29 hours in a car, but mentally like the 29 hours went by super fast and time in the world outside the car had somehow failed to pass. I wondered if the ride home would seem so easy and quick. But I hardly wanted to think about that now and I certainly didn't have time to dwell on it, as we hit the ground running as soon as we pulled up to Jesse's parents' house. His dad greeted us with blender in hand, pouring lemonade shots and passing out beers. Yep, this was going to be a good time. We toasted each other on our driving accomplishment, downed our drinks, and hit the showers as soon as we could.. we stank.

Before heading to bed, all the kids (me, Danie, Jesse, and his sister, Lucy) went to the bar around the block (The Warehouse) where Danie and I were very exotic.. Danie more obviously so than me, but still, we were both a rare breed in this neck of the woods. The locals were friendly enough though (the night before Thanksgiving and the place was packed) and the band (Heroes & Thieves) was loud and good enough to get the crowd dancing. I did not dance, but I did get ever so close to the dance floor and enjoyed soaking up my first NoDak bar experience. From there we walked home and I promptly passed out in the first real bed I've had to sleep on in a long while... This was the start of a beautiful friendship between me and North Dakota.