Fatherfolk

Dispatch from China: Summer Palace

2010-11-12T08:01:00.001-05:00

Written by Andy

On my last saturday in BJ I went on a tour with Cindy. Cindy is a friend of my host Andrew. She grew up in Haerbin but has lived in BJ for some time. She actually never had been to the Summer Palace before so I thought where better to visit. I have to say, traveling with a native speaker is much easier than not. After the palace she took me to the hutongs in the Dongcheng section of town.

Lily pads in Lake Kumming

my generous host, Cindy, being surprised by a photo. I said I'd delete it, whoops :)

The summer palace and lake kumming

Lake kumming. the summer palace photo before this is taken to the right of this shot.

Lily pads in bloom

The island in the middle of lake kumming.

The long corridor.
read about it here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Long_Corridor

The famed marble boat.
read about it here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marble_Boat

I forget the history and name of this bridge. I just sort of like how it had this massive arch in it.

summer palace from the other side of kumming lake.

Our rickshaw driver in the Dongcheng hutongs. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hutong

tight fit

a very old building in the Dongcheng hutong.

The more commercialized hutong streets. They've turned the streets into trendy restaurant, bars and clothing stores. Also, they have tones of chinese "crap" stores. these are the stores that sell random cheaply made Chinese souvenir and junk stuff.

Beijings Drum tower

Beijings bell tower.

Cast Iron, the choice of real men and grandmothers

2010-11-10T08:01:00.000-05:00

The facts on Cast Iron, it's awesome and cheap. There is no denying this. Cast Iron pans are like the cockroaches of cookware. Think about it, did Viggo Mortensen cook his last can of beanie weenies in All-Clad in that horribly depressing movie before eating his son? Of course not, that crap isn't going to survive a nuclear fall out. (was any of that a spoiler?)

Let's clear some misconceptions;

Is Cast Iron hard to clean? No, in fact you hardly ever clean it, Rinse it out, give it a little scrub and dry it off. Done. No soap required.
What about all that seasoning business? Is it really that hard to wipe it down with oil and stick it upside down in a low oven for a few hours twice a year?
Doesn't it stick? You can't exactly fry an egg in them but for just about anything else when well seasoned it does the job.

Here's the awesome part;

If you're used to some aluminum or stainless steel pan then get ready to wait another minute for the temp to rise enough for a good searing. How is that a good thing? Cast Iron holds onto that heat, other cookware gives you a quick shot of heat then it cools off after the meat (or tofu) hits the pan.
You can't hurt it. Use whatever fancy metal scraper you want to your hearts content, you never have to worry about scraping off some titanium laden flecks of who-knows-what into little johnny's food that we find out years from now causes Alzheimer's.
The stuff is cheap, as in you could outfit an entire kitchens' worth of gear for the price of one fancy pan. Not to mention you might be able to convince your grandmother to give up the good stuff, she probably got it from her mother.

I've used my pans to make home made tortillas, flatten butterflied chicken on the grill and even to bake cornbread (once). Give them a shot, you won't regret it. You might even win some points with your grandmother you never call.

The Circumcision Post: When You Talk About Penises, You're Gonna Meet Some Assholes.

2010-11-08T08:05:00.000-05:00

Several weeks ago I posted a note to twitter that I was in the process of making a decision about whether or not to circumcise my son. Admittedly, by writing on twitter that it was on my mind, I put it into the public arena. What I was unprepared for was the speed at which people who were not in my friend graph appeared and tried to influence my opinion. Within seconds, I had messages from @circinfo and @intactbydefault, for and against. So what exactly does that mean? It means that these dudes were sitting at their computers, or more likely ipads searching for the word circumcision on twitter, and probably myspace and facebook.

I thanked them both politely for expressing interest in my sons penis, until the douche canoe calling himself @intactbydefault had the nerve to quote Gandhi by way of comparison to what he perceives as his own struggle for human rights. motherfucking Gandhi. My response was: "Yes. You are exactly like Gandhi, if Gandhi spent all day trolling the internet for mentions of baby penises and giving unsolicited advice. ass".

So here's the decision I made.... Just kidding. That will never happen, because frankly, it just isn't anyones business outside of your family. Not your Rabbi, and certainly not the creeps out there wailing over foreskins while people starve in the streets and hundreds of people are maimed every day by roadside bombs. My advice to you is that when you make your decision, go no further than your own conscience, culture, and family for your answers.

Dispatch From China: Trans-Mongolian Railway

2010-11-05T09:21:00.000-04:00

Written by Andyfatherfolk

Andy blogs at http://herenow-nowhere.blogspot.com/

Though I wasn't fortunate enough to make it into Beijing via Moscow on the Trans-Siberian route, I was able to take the train from UB to BJ on the Trans-Mongolian line. I had read about how it was a social train and it sounded like many other like minded travelers would be on it and endless fun would ensue. You may have already guessed this, but this was not the case. Passengers mainly stayed in their rooms and the cafe car that I had read was a hotbed of social interaction was actually a restaurant car where people got food but did not really communicate. I did meet a few other travelers who had had similar thoughts and were surprised at the sterile like environment of the train.

I had wanted to go 2nd class to meet more people but all I could get was 1st class. I know, not the end of the world. My roommate was a turkish fellow who had travelled over 80 countries. He didn't like planes so mostly took trains, boats, buses, and cars. He was very friendly, though he slept for the majority of the 30 hour commute.

The train has arrived and people are beginning to board their respective cars.

My car attendants checking the people in line ahead of me. I had someone take a picture of me with the ladies, but they ended up taking a video instead. Not sure why but this "asking for photo and getting video" was a common thing in mongolia. odd

my roommate. I had bottom bunk

Leaving UB!

First stop. 2 weeks ago and I've already forgotten the Cyrillic I learned.

Gobi from the train. Ger in the distance.

Next stop. Locals peddling warez. Sadly no meat paddies or dumplings were being sold. :(

Gers and sand dunes.

Camels in the distance!

The sun begins to set.

Sunset over a small town

At the border we pull into an area to change the gauges of the rails, as Mongolia/Russia use different sized than China. Of course.

Changing of the guage.

First real glimpse of China.

good morning! I love these samovar type hot water thermoses. Definitely something to acquire when I get back to the states.

scenes from the rail

a city in the distance

just some of the numerous corn crops we passed.

mountains.

building and building...

The only non BJ stop we were allowed to get off of the train at. we were given maybe 5 minutes.

stacks and stacks and cones and cones. industrial china

beautiful scenes from the rail

rivers and mountains. so lovely.

scenes from the rail

nature and development

At last, arriving at Beijing Main Station.

Thanks to my local government we got to worship the devil, twice!

2010-11-02T08:07:00.002-04:00

Kids accepting sugar bombs from mostly strangers happened over the weekend, you may have heard of it and may have even participated, on a Sunday no less!

This was not to be in our county, which apparently decided about a month ago that celebrating this day of cavities and pudge on the day of his almighty wasn't in our best interest. Boy did we get the last laugh.

We saddled the horses, hitched up the wagon and made our way all the way across the county line on the 31st of October. We spent a long night imbibing, chanting (imperial march for every plastic Vader mask), pentagram drawing (it just happened to appear as hopscotch), candle burning (we burned candles) and shuffling around a 16 month old lion cub from stranger to stranger.

Last night, free of the complications in sharing this day of rampant paganism and devilry with Sunday, we did it all again. Thank you County Council, for allowing us to be our pagan best twice this year.

Homebrewing a Baby is Awesome

2010-10-26T21:31:00.002-04:00

Hey all,
I got to catch Judevine Elijah Morgan-Weintraub on Saturday night as he came shooting out of my wife. It was awesome. We have been building towards a homebirth throughout the pregnancy, but the little guy was bumping up against two weeks overdue, which was starting to limit our options.

On Friday morning when we visited the midwife, she told us that the baby was higher up than our last visit. It was pretty discouraging. So we ate mexican food. And Kristen's water broke. Just like that.

I won't go all daddy blogger on you here, but it was a pretty amazing experience. I got to be in the birth pool, catch the little guy when he came out, and cut the chord. No long drive home from the hospital, no intrusive nurses, just me, Kristen, our daughter, my mother, and Judevine. Amazing.

More later. I'm tired.

But seriously, be careful about eating mexican food.

Dispatch from China: The Wall

2010-10-26T08:14:00.000-04:00

Written by Andyfatherfolk

Andy blogs at http://herenow-nowhere.blogspot.com/

A week or so I got the opportunity to hike along the great wall. I met up with 4 other couchsurfers, we arranged the driver through the website and met up early in the morning to hit the wall. We did the Jinshanling section all the way through to Simatai. Simatai is currently undergoing construction and we did try to hike a bit but it got dodgy and not everyone was up for the challenge.

We were told it was an 8km walk in whole. The reason we chose this part of the tour was because we were told it was less touristy. This was beneficial in some ways and not so in others. What was nice was that the wall was essentially empty, except for other foreigners. What sort of was not so great is that there was no slide down. Apparently some portions have bungee jumps of sorts and big slides to go down. To me, that sounds pretty fun. But I'm not complaining, we got a good walk in and had a fun time. I didn't end up taking too many photos as they all sort of end up looking the same.

Our first real site of the wall while being on the wall.

China's beautiful rolling hills

Tower peaks off in the distance

the wall showing it's age and deterioration.

through a window in a tower on the wall

see.. it all starts to look the same

The 5 of us! Argentina, Austin, Me, and two swiss lads.

we met these nice ladies on the wall. I thought they were just chinese tourists but of course they were not not. they were selling crap products and telling us stories of how they are "poor farmers with 2 kids, please buy. you buy now!" I didn't buy.

i liked this shot with the wall to the right

This may not look it from the angle but the steepness here was quite intense. The first part was a ramp, the second portion was stairs.

This walk down was challenging as it was falling apart and the footing steps were a bit small for my feet.

me and the wall.

Dispatch from Japan: Climbing Mount Fuji

2010-10-21T08:14:00.002-04:00

Written by Andrew Rosenstock

Before leaving Tokyo I was fortunate to find a group on couchsurfing.com that was climbing up to Mt Fuji overnight to catch the sunrise. There was about 50 of us in total, some of us from the organizer of the trips company and the rest were couchsurfers. One of the things that was really nice about going up with a group is the sense of community that we had from the beginning. I originally thought about going this alone and am so grateful that I had the people I had to summit with.

The hike itself wasn't too bad, and we made good time. The hardest part was probably dealing with the cold. When that wind was blowing, every part of your body felt it. There were times when I almost was blown over from the strength of the wind. We arrived on top a bit earlier than planned and looked for a place to rest, unfortunately they were hard to come by and some of us ended up resting on benches, convulsively shivering and reminding ourselves that "we will get through this, we will get through is." It was a cold cold night. but........ as the sun began to be seen, the base station on top was opened up and inside one could purchase a few essential items one of which was a bowl of ramen. SCORE!!

The sunrise was beautiful and we were all glad to have made the trek. The hike down was actually much worse than the hike up. Probably in part because the moment of excitement was passed but also because you are walking down a sometimes very loose and steep dirt path for what seems like a rather long time. It isn't very comfortable and if you fall it may hurt a bit (i somehow didn't, woohoo!)

Following the hike we went to an onsen for a little which was very comforting however it's a few days post hike and my upper quads are still a bit sore.

Fuji from the bus

The group before climbing fuji

Me before the hike

This was my core group of climbers. we were all pretty tired and cold at this point

miso soup at base station 7. it cost 400 yen (about $4.50 US) but the salts from it as well as the warmth provided were well worth it.

the sun starts to show

beautiful colors

as the sun began to rise, the top station opened up and inside they sold a few things one of which was ramen. i've almost never welcomed ramen more in my life.

the sun rising in front of a torii gate

i just love how i look here.

here's the sun

i've learned to harness the power of the sun

SUN!

the sun and the land below

looking down into the crater of the volcano

claiming the mountain in the name of the US

the lines form as people begin to descend the peak

i loved the color contrasts of the rocks on top

inside the crater

Summitting!

I loved how the clouds looked in the background. Harumi did not quite understand the artistic approach i was going for but that's ok.

Horrible Parents - The Booger Hookah

2010-10-18T08:00:00.004-04:00

crosspost from The Soy Bean

written by Casey

I’m of two minds at the moment. When I first conceived this post a week or so ago it was intended to be light-hearted. Now that I have finally taken, uploaded, and viewed the pictures, I feel slightly horrible about what my wife (I’m just the photographer) has been putting our son through.

Ray has had a perpetual hacking cough/endlessly snot-oozing nose since about a week after he started going to daycare. He doesn’t seem put out in the least about coughing hysterically and spontaneously ejecting copious amounts of snot from both nostrils. I suppose anticipating this turn of events months ago, my wife was moved to make a preemptive purchase.

Despite decades of simple yet effective use provided by the squeezable booger bulb that everyone, whether you have a child or not, can easily identify, someone in Japan thought they could improve upon the idea by making a booger removal system more complicated, more difficult to use, and most of all far more traumatic for the child. At least it’s cute. I give you the booger hookah:

Step 1: Pin down child’s arms with adult legs. Step 2: Place blunt-ended tube in mommy’s mouth. Step 3: Insert pointy end in baby’s nostril. Step 4: Suck, using opposite nostril as a snot carb.

Result: Horribly upset child, crushing your tiny little head.

The irony is that Ray plays with this terrible little object whenever he can. He loves chewing on the booger chamber, or swinging the whole unit around by the hookah tubes. But when the time comes to harvest the snot, bad times. Rarely have I heard the boy howl like he does when he’s pinned down and mid-snot removal. He generally comes around pretty quickly though; rapid administration of breast to mouth speeds improves recovery time.

I think we might adopt a less intrusive method of coaxing mucous out of Ray though. Perhaps a feather to the nostril might do the trick.

The Story of a Shitter

2010-10-15T08:06:00.003-04:00

Cross posted from A Boy, A Man, and a Father
written by Judgebrix

One of your less cool and interesting experiences through life, and its weird little u-turns, is visiting the worldwide facility for assisting you with number 1 and 2 – The Cubicle Toilet adventure. Cubicles have been around for centuries and they are one of the less amazing inventions left by the ancient Roman and Greek civilizations. I’m sure every great ancient civilisation across the Globe have had their take on cubicle toilets – and neither of them has managed to make this a glamorous event. Sitting next to somebody pooping, while talking, is not my idea of a friendly conversation. It’s beyond me, but some public toilets in ancient Rome were designed as a giant bench of stone, with holes that was used by the public.
Certain things must, for the sake of humanity, be left to the private space of a lockable toilet – preferably in the comfort of your home. On the other hand, I do understand that business and shopping areas are forced to create some toilet facilities for employees and visitors. And it is not feasible with only one toilet. Imagine the queues. Obviously, and for the record, I’m only talking about toilets designated for men.

OK, the worst thing for me when going to these small public toilets, is the fact that some men strongly believe that once they are inside their little cubicle, they are sitting in a soundproof room. You know and you have heard what I describe, but there’s nothing like sitting next door to a guy who grunts and farts loudly. I’m finding it hard to sometime contain my laughter. Even worse, you know that you might have to face that person, when you both are done with your assigned jobs. You wash your hands, but can’t help glancing at the door with the weird noises. You rush and wash your hands, spraying water on your crutch, making it look like you peed on your pants, all to avoid having too meet the fart dude. This is in particular a difficult and awkward moment at work, especially when you think you know the person!

The freaky thing about work toilets, is when you are aiming for the urinal, and all of a sudden the door is forced open by the cleaning lady. She’s cool about the whole thing and gets on with her cleaning duties, all while you try to cover yourself. If you are sitting on the toilet, then you would probably just lift your feet while she is washing the floor from underneath the door.

What about transportable toilets, normally used for concerts? People think that, just because it is made of plastic, they can spray pooh and pee the inside of the cubicle, not considering the next visitor. You open the door, only to be greeted by a smell that would trigger WMD or biohazard alerts, but you have no choice but to enter. The biggest fears I have in these rooms are that:

It is normally so dark inside. Only the light from a ridiculous vent on the roof is lit up so you have no idea what you might be stepping on.
9 out of 10 times, there is no toilet paper, or anything resembling paper, meaning you might have to rip up your smoke pack (if you smoke) or some other paper-like items, just to finish properly
The seat!!! Is there a seat and what state is it in?
Don’t drop anything into the hole! I read a scary story about a woman who managed to drop her purse into the hole. She got stuck with both arms while attempting to reach it.

Something that amazed me as a kid, was the Italian hole-in-the-floor toilet. As a young boy visiting Italy a lot, this always proved to be a HUGE challenge. Squatting down, holding onto one or two handles (two if you were lucky), while attempting to aim and hit the bloody little hole. I had loads of accidents as a kid, mainly peeing on my pants or dropping a cake on the step – never the hole – and I have since stayed clear of those public toilets. I would rather walk an extra mile, squeezing the cheeks or bladder, until I would find a suitable toilet.

I also remember having to visit an outdoor toilet, a small cabin away from the house, when going to Sweden and Norway with my parents when I was only 6 or 7 years old. Again, you have to open the door that DOES NOT lead to Narnia, and sit on this wooden plank with a hole. You have no idea what’s below and I felt sorry for my dad when he had to empty the toilet on those holidays. The smell was unbelievable.

My worst experience EVER, was having to pooh in a trash-bin next to a church in Greenland. There were no toilets or trees for miles and miles, so My dad held me while I did my stuff – not the proudest moment in my life, but I really had to go.

Most of public toilets, and pub toilets, often remind me of warzones. Men are culprits for treating these toilets with little respect. That’s why 99.9% of these facilities smell of pee – old pee. You can only breathe through your mouth, although it still gives you a burning sensation at the back of the mouth – some acidy stinging feeling. Horrible, but again, you gotta go, so you make the visit quick. Women, for your information, a large majority of men do NOT wash their hands after their visits!

One aspect of visiting public restrooms is the amount of graffiti and greetings written by previous visitors. How they find the time to write these messages is beyond me, but fair play to them. Some funny quotes: ”If you can read this, then you are peeing on your shoes!!”, ”Paddy is gay” (so what?) and “I hate everybody” or the international version “SHIT!” You could probably write a book about this phenomenon, but I’ll leave that for somebody else.

When visiting Paris some years ago, my wife told me that I had to visit the toilet. This particular bar was dedicated to the Pope, Virgin Mary, Jesus and all the saints, so it was a somewhat new experience buying a pint. Anyway, I do not know how my wife knew what the inside of the men’s toilet looked like, but I ventured in. Sweet Lord, the toilet walls were covered in all kinds of pornographic pictures, which would surprise even Larry Holmes. No wonder the queue to the men’s room was so long!

My American high school experience, almost 20 years ago, introduced a new cubicle experience. The toilets didn’t have any doors! This was mainly to prevent drug use. but it meant that you were doing your stuff among friends and foes. I know we are talking team sports in the US, but some things are individual sports. I had no problem holding in number 2 for days.

Fart, grunts, smells, chatting and pee covered floors! What we men have to overcome just to relieve ourselves. You girls should be lucky that you have to sit down, and I hope you have a better toilet culture than men, when visiting toilets outside your home. Men can, on the other hand, pee anywhere in the Wild – and some men I’m sure will attempt to do both too, if they are really desperate.

Once at a festival, I saw this punk woman who wanted to pee among us men, against the fence. She dropped her leather pants and knickers, and held on to the fence while starting to pee. But, with all the pee from us men, the place was a bit muddy. With a whoosh, her right leg and then her left leg slipped, and she sat down bare assed in the mud – man, all the guys along the fence we pissing and laughing at the same time. I’m sure she would never try this again.

These were some of my weird moments and experiences with the cubicle latrine -nothing amazing or fascinating, and to some probably a ridiculous blog – but hey, it might spark a few funny comments from you too.

Black Widows

2010-10-13T08:08:00.003-04:00

courtesy Steve Ryan

When my husband and I decided that our future did not lie in Cincinnati, we debated between moving to Vermont and Asheville. There was no other part of North Carolina where I would have agreed to live, but would have settled nearly anywhere in the great state of Vermont. We took into account several factors, not least among them the cost of living. Both places are beautiful and provide plenty of things to do both indoors and out. Both places have good food and strong local economies. In the end, it came down to a coin toss and Asheville won. If I knew then what I know now, I'd have a lovely home somewhere near Burlington right now.

Here's the big thing I hadn't considered - black widow spiders. I had no idea we had them here. Not only are they here in this state, but they're here IN MY YARD. To give you an idea of how seriously I take these things, I'm scared of daddy longlegs and those things are pathetically easy to avoid in life. I had a vacuuming incident involving a spider not long ago that scared me so bad I cried and came frighteningly close to peeing in my pants. When I saw my first black widow a few weeks ago, the first thing that came to mind was not "Hey look, a big cute black spider!" It was "MOVE TO ALASKA."
If you've only ever seen a black widow spider in photographs and wonder if you'll recognize it in real life, fear not. They're unmistakeably intimidating and look exactly like they're supposed to. Some spiders that can do a lot of damage when they bite look a lot like other spiders, like the brown recluse for example. A brown recluse can easily be mistaken for a dozen different spiders until it bites you and your limb falls off. Then you know it was a brown recluse. No, you know exactly what you're dealing with when you're looking at the business end of a black widow. The business end, by the way, is the part with the telltale red marks on it. You might think the biting part is the business end, and you'd technically be correct, but there's nothing about their heads that screams "danger, black widow!" except that they're generally attached to the rest of the spider.

If you're going to rate a spider based on it's looks, the black widow gets high marks. Black goes with everything and you really can't beat a classic red. I spend a lot of money looking for the right shade of red lipstick and these little bitches prance around my yard with it stamped all over their abdomens. If you're going to rate them based on reputation, the black widow also sits at the top of the list. Although there is antivenin available, making them less fatal than they once were, the fact that a tiny spider can kill a grown human being is terrifying. Seeing my first one a few weeks ago made me not only abandon my weed pulling project, but I was willing to surrender my home and move thousands of miles away to escape it. The only thing that stopped me was the fact that the current real estate market is slightly more intimidating than the spider was. Plus, I really like my kitchen.

How do you deal with the knowledge that you share your property with dozens of venomous spiders? You research them online and take solace in their crappy eyesight and non-aggressive nature. You also huff and you puff and dismantle their habitat by removing the woodpile that's been hanging out in your yard since you bought the house. As a final measure of good will, sit down and have a talk with them about moving next door to the home of the college girls who have at least 65 roommates and loud parties on a quiet residential street. Imply that it was the girls who moved the wood pile and that the caterpillars over there are fatter and sweeter than the ones in your yard. Finally, you buy that summer home in Vermont and wish the spiders well.

Dispatch from China: Hot and Sour Soup

2010-10-12T08:04:00.002-04:00

Written by AndyFatherfolk

When I move to new area one thing I always look for is a chinese food place that has two items in a style I like. It's very important that I can get these comfort foods quick and easy. The first, an americanized dish which is far from healthy but super tasty, (depending on the style) egg foo young. It's a dish I used to order frequently from Dragon Chef, the low brow take away chinese food spot in my hometown of Needham, MA. The second dish is hot and sour soup. I love chinese style hot and sour soup but as anyone who's ordered a lot of hot and sour soups can tell you, there are many different styles and versions of this soup. Some too spicy, some too vinegary, some with too much msg and some that just plain suck.

When I lived in NYC, my budget survived on eating a lot of either wonton or hot and sour soup for dinners. for $2.50 I could buy a quart of either soup and it had flavor and nutrition. (moderately) Hot and sour soup will have lots of veggies, mushrooms, tofu and sometimes a meat or two. So there was protein and vitamins mixed in with other oddities that only chinese cooking can bring.

Ordering food has been pretty hard for me in Beijing. I can't speak or read a lick of Mandarin and menus are mostly just the characters and no pics. I rely on either pointing at other peoples food or being lucky and finding a picture menu.

The other day I wandered into a spot close by to where I am staying and to my delight, they had a picture menu. Actually I walked into three restaurants before this but none had menus I could read. I spotted what looked to be a bowl of possibly hot and sour soup. Pictures are pictures and you still don't know fully what everything is or what you may get. But it was 8rmb (roughly $1.20) and I figured I could at least pay to find what it was.

Instead of a bowl for one I got a bowl for like 8 of whatever this concoction/potion may be.

And what was it???

It was indeed a hot and sour soup. Only, using the peppercorns I've heard so much about in the states. It had this heat that only a nice peppercorn can offer, mixing with the tofu and mushrooms flavor and a bit of vinegar (thankfully not too much). But for the most part, special pepper excluded, it tasted like hot and sours I've had back home on both coasts.

I've heard over and over that chinese food is different in america than it is in it's original country, but not this dish. This dish is a classic no matter where you go, and why mess with a classic?

Weekday Quickie - Mexican Casserole

2010-10-11T08:01:00.002-04:00

Making a weekday quickie taste like an all day affair.

Today we've got a quick and easy casserole full of Mexican inspired goodness. This is one of those throw it all in and see what comes out deals, whatever semi-Mexican style ingredients you have around will do fine.

My Ingredients:

2 - 3 Chicken Breasts - Bone in or not (optional and greatly reduces prep time if removed)
1 Green Pepper
1 Tomato
1 can Corn
1 can Black Beans
1 can Refried Beans
2 kinds of Salsa (sub Enchilada Sauce if you've got it)
Corn tortillas (NOT Flour)
Shredded Cheese
6" or so round Pyrex dish (roughly the same diameter as your tortillas is perfect)

Boil Chicken This is going to take an hour or so of simmering, I'm using the freaking awesome ThermoWorks RT600C to check for done. If you chose bone-in breasts you've now got some great semi-broth to start up some Chicken Noodle Soup.

Gather and Layer Get all the other ingredients and the cut the chicken into hunks, the tomato into thin slices and the pepper into strips. Start lining the bottom of the Pyrex dish with 3 or so of the corn tortillas, then refried beans, black beans, corn, salsa, chicken, tomato, pepper in thin layers. Repeat with 3 more tortillas and the rest as above until you reach the top. Top it off with a good helping of salsa and cheese.

Wait then Bake Let it sit overnight, you want all that salsa to penetrate the tortillas and let everything else just kind of settle together. Crank the oven up to 375 and stick in the casserole, no lid. Wait about 45 minutes our until you can tell the middle is nice and bubble and the cheese on top is a nice gooey brown mass. Enjoy.

Board Games: Fast Track to Family Conflict

2010-10-09T08:00:00.000-04:00

Cross Posted from ironicmom.com

Board games are an activity steeped in nostalgia.
I remember playing marathon Cribbage games with my mom at the age of 6, running to my dad every hand so he could tell me what to discard. I remember playing Rumoli with my whole family during two-day rural power outages. I remember playing Scrabble with my mom while drinking a Caesar (for non-Canadians, a Caesar is the lesser-known but more likeable cousin of the Bloody Mary).
This summer has been the time when I’ve tried to create some board game memories with my 6-year-old twins. Here are a few examples:

Crazy Eights: Once I read the 243 versions of rules available on the internet, we started playing. It went well until I won three games in a row. We haven’t played since.

There's a reason the word "crazy" is in the title

Trouble: My son is incapable of playing this without cheating or throwing pieces or popping the dice bubble so hard the pieces fly.

Checkers: My daughter had a first rate meltdown when her dad crowned his third king. She has to win. At everything. My husband remarked, “Now I know how Michael Jordan’s parents felt.”

Clue Junior: What follows is the chain reaction that ended tonight’s game.

Vivian: “I made a mistake! I get to go again! It’s not fair! I didn’t mean to!” [tears welling up]

William: “If she goes again, she’s cheating!” [throws dice]

Me: “Let’s stop and call it a tie.” [picking up pieces, including the dice in the adjacent room]

William: “I never win! No one loves me!” [exit to weep on staircase]

Vivian: “Let’s sell this game.” [steps over brother, stomps upstairs, slams door]

Vivian’s idea is one possibility: let’s sell all the games. Another one is alcohol: now I know why my mom always drank while playing games with us.

Dispatch From China: Bringing Home the Bacon

2010-10-08T08:00:00.001-04:00

Written By Andyfatherfolk

Andy blogs at http://herenow-nowhere.blogspot.com/

My first week in Beijing found me staying at Andrew's apt. Andrew is a friend of Greg, and Greg worked with Jocelyn in Mongolia where I met him (and drove a tank with him).
One day while talking about food Andrew told me how easy bacon was to make, so we decided to make some.

The first thing we did was go to the local meat market.

We actually bought our meat from a different vendor but I liked this shot as not only do you have entrails and hoofs but you also have in the back of her table (near the ice tea bottle) pig ears and pig tails.

With the meat purchased and ready to go, we prepared our salt rub and cut the meat in half.

Sprinkled on the rub. The rub is what helps cure the meat (and make it even more tasty)

Rubbing it in. You really want to get the rub up in the junk of it all for flavor and safety reasons.

Sadly, I left before the meat was ready to taste. But I did get some of the principles down for knowledge sake. It's something I'd like to try doing again (and again) at some point.

Semper-Fi, Last Boy Scout

2010-10-07T08:00:00.005-04:00

Cross posted from A Boy, A Man, and a Father

written by Judgebrix

At 8 years old you are at an age where you have to learn the hard way. I don’t mean that you have to get bruised, but that some experiences can only be taught by actually trying them.

Basically, every boy have to attempt certain Dirty Sanchez /Jackass stunts, just to prove that they are older and braver than the rest … or perhaps just brainless.

What am I talking about? I’m talking about joining the boy scouts.

Most 8 year old boys start playing football or join the boy scouts. I persuaded my parents to let me join the local scout group called the Wolf Cubs (not a tough name I know), since I was shite at football and I loved the forest … Indiana Jones, here I come!

As a boy scout you learn many valuable skills, skills you recognise when watching Bear Grylls or Ray Mears battling with the elements on the Discovery Channel. Instead of focusing on how great the boy scouts are, I’ll share some of my less glamorous moments in the uniform.

Not against the wind, but…

Cross posted from The Chronicles of a Boy, a Man, and a Father

Written by Judgebrix

As a young lad I joined the boy scouts mainly to be able to carry a knife and caver in the forest. Also, so I could sleep in a tent in a field or forest. Before going on these adventures, my dad always told me to be mindful about my surroundings before doing either number 1 or 2. He said, there are two ground rules when doing the toilet business Bear Crylls style:

Don’t pooh in or around nettles
Don’t pee on an electrical fence

Surely, that was never going to happen to me anyway. My father had no idea was he was talking about (I thought) and I was 8 years old. He was like an old fart / relic already and he had never survived in the wilderness before anyway. What would he know about my survival skills?

One afternoon, while out with the scouts, I desperately had to pee. I ran across the field to find a quiet spot, away from the camp, well hidden by branches and shrubs. Slowly, I reached for El Shrimpo (my manhood) and released the muscle controlling the bladder. The pee initially sprayed the grass at the tip of my shoes. So, I pressed a bit more on the bladder, showing utmost body control. Slowly, the spray arched over the nearby shrubs.

Suddenly, a stinging pain ripped through my El Shrimpo. A pain I had never felt before snapped at me for only a few seconds. It felt as if something (a snake) had bitten me in the most private area. I grabbed El Shrimpo with both hands and fell onto my knees. The pee was still coming out, so my hands were soon covered in pee. I looked around in fear, thinking I would see the tail of a deadly cobra, but nothing. I must have screamed or yelped, since most of my survivor mates came to my rescue and to see what had happened.

Friendly as 8-10 year old boys are, the boy nearest to me started to laugh frantically and pointed to my wet pants, fingers and boots. Within seconds, one of the boys said coldly “that’s what you get for pissing at an electrical fence” and pointed to a hidden fence post behind the shrub I had gracefully sprayed on.

The female scout leader attempted to help me up, but I wasn’t going to let her see my manhood. So, I quickly zipped up and legged it back to the fireplace to dry my pants. My hands smelled of pee for several hours until one of the girls gave me some soap.

The natural flower power killers

Most boy scout activities take place during the summer and during the weekends, so no school night is disrupted. The camp I joined (the only one in my neighborhood) had a huge camp site just a few miles from my house. This meant that most weekends were spent becoming one with Nature. Soon, I could communicate with trees like Elves, talk to animals like Pocahontas and roast marshmellows like Andy (from Toy Story). I was one with Nature!

One of the expeditions I joined was to learn about the local floras and other plants, primarily so we could survive on plants in the event of some apocalyptic disaster. I’m sure that if such an event occured, most plant and animal life would have been destroyed. But I felt the love of the trees and I was slowly becoming a tree-hugger.

Dressed in my Indiana Jones explorer shorts, Ecco foot shaped shoes and a white T-shirt, I joined the troop into the wilderness. It wasn’t long until we saw the first pine trees, some acorns, ferns, forest onion plants (excellent in forest onion soup) and some elderflower bushes. All these wonders were studied while eating freshly plucked berries.

Suddenly I saw a rare flower, just a few feet off to the side of the animal trail we were following, that I decided to explore. It crept forward and knelt slightly, probably trying not to scare the wildlife around me. I became one with the undergrowth of the forest, only to suddenly stumble on a giant root.

I lost my footing and I started to fall, only to realise that I was about to fall on top of a deadly bush of forest nettles. I adjusted my body to avoid falling into these evil plants. I managed to sidestep the nettles, only to step into another mini forest of nettles. My legs were being attacked by thousands of nettle leaves, “burning” my boyish sensitive skin. I don’t even think Ray Mears would have survived this.

What happened next is just a blur. Somehow I managed to step on the only slippery stone within a mile’s radius and I fell arms first into the tall nettle forest. The nettles wrapped themselves around me as if trying to swallow me whole. I screamed like a pig that was being chased by a panther deep in the Amazon jungle, desperately trying to get out.

I felt something pulling my feet and discovered that it was the female scout leader (who looked like Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider) who was saving me. The pain instantly vanished as she washed my arms with water, while smiling at me. Deep inside, I was in so much pain. I felt like running away, but somehow I got up and picked the rare flower and I gave it to my saviour.

Handfull of dung

During one of the many visits to the camp site, we made an excursion to the local farmer’s field to explore the natural inhabitants; cows. These gigantic creatures are some of the food markets most gracious and kind animals. They produce the most fantastic milk, cheese and steaks.

Most of the time, these gentle giants of the grass fields are friendly and don’t care about us intruders. But for some unknown reason I’m somewhat nervous around cows. They are HUGE and they have horns. If you’ve ever been face-to-face with a cow, then you know what I’m talking about.

Anyway, as we were walking on the field, their territory, a lonely bull on the neighbouring field started to moo. It was probably telling all the girl cows to trample the intruders. True enough, the cows started to trot towards the small group of scouts.

The female scout leader (Tomb Raider), calmly gathered the group and started to cross a stream – cows hate water she said. In a failed attempt to jump the stream, I slipped and landed on my back. I slowly opened my eyes and I saw that I was nose to nose with one of the “friendly” cows. This was not Barnyard, so these animals can’t walk or talk, but the look she gave me was not “I love you”.

I rolled quickly to the left, then right to confuse the animal – something I learnt from another scout session – and stood up. Fast as lightning, I legged it across the field, followed by a herd of cows, approx. 2 cows (might have been three). The gate was getting closer. Suddenly my right foot hit a hard lump of dirt and I crash dived into the soft soil. Funnily enough, the landing was soft. My left hand felt tingly and warm. I looked over, fearing it would be broken or cut. What I saw was true horror. The hand was wrist deep in a freshly laid cow pooh! At least my arm wasn’t broken. I got up, supporting my body with my knees, only to discover that both knees were stuck in a pile of s*** too. These however were cold. I got up and made it out. Phew! Without looking back and waiting for my troop I kept running until I arrived home, where my mum hosed the pooh off me. I was smelling of cow for days afterwards, much to the amusement of my friends.

So, what did I learn from my scout experience? You gotta join the scouts to say you’ve lived fully… My kids are going to be forced to join the tree-hugger fanclub and learn about nature sooner than later.

“I went into the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” Henry David Thoreau

What Is Going On In This Photo?

2010-10-06T08:00:00.001-04:00

Pictured in this photo we have a baby squirrel being held by a coworker of mine. Let me set the record straight by saying that pet squirrels are not common here in Asheville, despite the fact that it's a mountain town and mountain folk do some strange things. Nor is my hospital a squirrel hospital. Squirrel hospitals are exceedingly rare in America because squirrel vet programs have exceedingly high admission standards and because squirrels bite hard and often.

By now you've noticed that this squirrel has something around his neck. Contrary to what you might at first believe, we were not seeing this squirrel because he got his head stuck in a cut-up piece of x-ray film. Nor is he a flamboyant squirrel with a taste for Elizabethan fashions - those squirrels are as rare as squirrel veterinary hospitals. No, my dedicated coworker made that e-collar for him. She made not just that one e-collar but several over the course of time, as he kept growing out of them.

The next question that has come to mind is "Why does a squirrel need an e-collar?" Well, let's examine why a cat or dog might need an e-collar as possible clues. Most often they wear them to prevent some form of self-destruction or to prevent licking and chewing of wounds. Anyone who has had stitches can tell you that they're a little uncomfortable and itchy. If you couldn't scratch them with your hands, you might also be inclined to chew at them. Don't lie; I know you would. Other times, the e-collar is used to prevent a cat or a dog from chewing off and potentially eating a bandage. Bandages are strictly for external use, despite what your dog tells you.

Back to the squirrel. None of the reasons above are why this guy is wearing the e-collar. Squirrels are mammals, in case you thought they were born eating acorns. They are not. 26 is the legal age of acorn consumption in squirrels, which explains why they seem to get so crazy about them. This particular squirrel was orphaned before his mother had weaned him and he found himself hungry. Instead of waiting for my kind coworker, he took matters into his own hands (or mouth, in this case) and started nursing on himself.

What's that, you say? A baby male squirrel nursing himself? Yes. On his penis. Constantly. He nursed it to the point that it was bigger than his own hock. And that, my friends, is why this squirrel wears an e-collar. I can't speak for other squirrels who wear them.

Dear Ones. A letter to Tyler, Seth, Asher, and Billy

2010-10-05T08:00:00.002-04:00

Guest Post by Casey Berna

A letter to the four angels just lost, Tyler, Seth, Asher and Billy, and all of the others up in heaven.

My dear ones, my only comfort in hearing of your too soon departure from this world is that you are up in Heaven, now wrapped in our loving God’s embrace. You are in a place, now, where love is rampant, acceptance for who you are and how God made you is given without thought, where you finally will feel comforted, at ease and at home. But it is a small comfort to me, and I imagine even less of a comfort to your family and loved ones. You should still be here. I feel your loss, and I have never even met you. The loss your parents and other family and friends must be feeling right now is unimaginable.

My dear ones, our society let you down. We gave you messages daily that being gay was not acceptable. We allowed the words “you’re so gay” or “that’s so gay” to continue to have a negative connotation. We allowed the word “fag” to be thrown around as something terrible to be called. While you were growing up, we didn’t allow positive gay characters on your television or cartoon programming to provide you support. When you knew you were gay at a young age, we called it disturbing, unhealthy and looked at your parents to blame for your self-awareness. We provide very little in the way of showing you that being gay is a social norm and completely acceptable. I am so very sorry for this.

Our government has let you down. They say you can serve in our military, risk your life, but you can’t admit to being gay? That certainly implies there is something terribly wrong with being gay. Our government also says that gay people cannot get married. That is sending a clear message, is it not? I can only imagine how oppressive it is for a young person to have your government having a hand in whom you can and cannot love or be with, legally. The state of Mississippi states that gay couples cannot adopt children. What a burden for you to carry. These laws make me deeply sad; I can only imagine how they make you feel.

Your community has let you down. From when you were young we hid examples of openly gay role models from you. What happens to openly gay youth leaders, school teachers, coaches and administrators? They are often treated like pedophiles and not accepted in the community. Some community leaders are even asked to step down from their duties after coming out or being outed. Parents say they don’t want their children affiliated with “such people.” They are scared of what could happen. Don’t ask, don’t tell seems not only to be a guideline in the military, but encouraged in some of the communities in this country. Parents who are not understanding and accepting of gay people are at risk to raise children who are not accepting; children who bully. What messages are they sending you, dear ones?

Your school, a place that should be a safe environment for you to flourish and grow, let you down. Intolerant communities throughout our country keep faculty, staff and administrators of schools closeted and in fear of losing their jobs. Teachers who either are too burnt out, ignorant themselves or overwhelmed do not step in when kids who are gay or who are perceived to be gay are bullied time and time again. Bullies are written-off as “kids being kids.” But what about your rights, my dear ones, to be kids and to be a part of a learning community without fear or harassment? What about your rights to be who you are, to love who you love, and to take whomever you love to your prom?

Our religions let you down. Some religions are very open and accepting of all people, gay people included. There are some groups out there, though, who think gay people are “sick” or “sinful.” My dear ones, I am not certain what religion you or your family practiced, but I am certain that no matter what it was, you have heard all of these hurtful, hateful views people voice in the name of our loving God.

Adolescence is so hard to begin with, a confusing and awkward time in everyone’s life. When your society, government, community, school and religion are giving you messages that you shouldn’t exist, you are sick, you are a pedophile, you are worthless and sinful, the difficulties of adolescence are only compounded. As a mother, I find it painful to think that anyone would feel that way about my child.

My dear ones, I feel like I have let you down. I wish I could have been there to tell you it will all be okay. I wish I could have advocated for you at your school. I wish I could have imparted on you the wisdom that this too shall pass and that one day you will be far from this environment and far from the ignorant people that tormented you. I wish I could have been there the moment before you took your life, to hold you and tell you that you are perfect just the way God made you. I know that it would have been a lot to have asked you to continue in your environment of fear and torment and I would have felt guilty asking you to do so, but I would have known that ten years from now, you would be okay.

It is not good enough to ask our gay youth to just “survive” their adolescence! Kids are dying on our watch. We, as a society, have to change and encourage our government to do the right thing for the gay community. Gay people are not going anywhere. They are a part of communities everywhere. It is time they are accepted. It is not okay to keep gay people in the closet. It is not okay that gay people fear losing their livelihoods if they disclose who they are. It is not okay to hide behind God while condemning and discriminating against our gay brothers and sisters. This is not a political or religious debate. These are rules, attitudes and judgments that are daring children to take their own lives.

My dear ones, we all have failed you. Every single one of us. I am so very sorry. My hope is that you have not died in vain. My hope is that this country will realize the hurt and pain it has caused you. My hope is that dialogue and discussion will open up so that we will not lose any more of you. My hope is that you are all angels and will serve as a light to the rest of those in the gay community who are struggling. I pray for you and your families. My love is with you. I know you are finally safe and at peace, but I am so sorry your journeys have ended in this tragic way. With all the love in my heart, your sister in community, Casey Berna.

The Great Walrus Migration

2010-10-03T11:04:00.000-04:00

You can only imagine my alarm when I turned on NPR and saw this story about "tens of thousands" of walruses moving inland toward populated areas because of climate change. The guy posing as a Walrus in this photo is Anthony Fischbach, a wildlife biologist with the U.S. Geological Survey. "I'm surprised by one thing," he says. "Essentially all the animals here are adult females. You'd expect to see about one in three with newborn yearling calves." Apparently, either there is some sort of catastrophic changes in the Walrus population due to global warming or there is the Walrus version of an Indigo Girls concert.

Music I Missed: Dokken!

2010-10-02T08:00:00.000-04:00

I think this is the first Dokken song I've ever heard. I'm really glad that I got to see this video for my first exposure because man oh man does it add something. That thing, by the way, is a literal representation of the lyrics; watching this video made me think that the director had no concept of metaphor. The song is called "Breaking The Chains," and much of the video depicts chains being broken by one or another member of the band. Excellent use of imagery, boys. I will give them credit for their slightly innovative use of chain in the video. For example, there's a close-up of George Lynch's guitar strings, which are tiny chains; the bass guitarist also uses chain for a strap. Clever! The literal depiction of lyrics continues when Dokken is reading a letter from his ex-lady-friend as she is shown in the background mouthing all the words that he is saying she said. Does that make sense? No. Why? Because it's a retarded idea that only made sense in whatever coke-addled moment inspired this video.

Finally we arrive at the 80's fashion and hair. It is fantastic in this video if for no other reason than the fact that they're wearing wristbands unironically. The first visual treat is Mr. George Lynch, sporting a two-tone mullet that would make any hairdresser weep tears of shame, skintight spandex with suspenders (like those things came off without the help of industrial grade lubricant) and some kick-ass white shoes. Everyone in this video, save the ex-lady-friend is sporting a mullet, but Lynch's is by far the best. While Lynch's wardrobe is great, Don Dokken
takes the crown for this video, thanks only to the scene where his chained to the bed. At first it appears that he's wearing a ghi, which I guess he is. The only problem is that he forgot his pants, making the ghi more of a white kimono. Seeing his bare legs is bad enough, but why did we have to see the upskirt shot of his tighty-whiteys? I ask this question rhetorically, because I know the answer is "cocaine made us think it was a good idea."

Enjoy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vgby7U_FVks

Coconut Water

2010-10-01T08:00:00.000-04:00

posted by Aaron

So coconut water is a thing that, in my life is getting harder to ignore despite my best efforts. Lately I find myself searching it out in grocery stores and buying cases of the stuff on Amazon. My wife loves to drink it after a yoga or swimming workout and swears by it as a recovery drink.
Here are the basics...

Nutrition:
Calories: 46
Calories from fat: 4
Fat: 0g
Carbs: 09g
Sodium: 256 mg

Production: As best I can tell by the price, before being juice these coconuts are massaged every day like Kobe beef and watered with unicorn tears.

Purchase: The best coconut water brands are One and Vita Coconut. Do not be fooled into buying the Goya brand that Walmart carries. Your wife will be angry and you will literally vomit when you try to drink it. You can find cases of the good stuff here: (Vita Coco 100% Pure Coconut Water, 11.2-Ounce Containers (Pack of 12).)

Dispatch from Japan: Making Udon

2010-09-30T08:00:00.000-04:00

Written By Andrew Rosenstock

I think it was my third or maybe fourth night while staying with Kazuko-san but she told us we'd be making udon that night. As a fan of noodles in general, I was very stoked. Starting with just flower and water we built up the base of what would become a delicious and exciting meal. It started with just Wanda (the other wwoofer here) and me listening to Kazuko-san explaining to us what the process was. A littler later Ishekawa (no idea if that's how his name is spelled or even pronounced, so apologies for that) came by. He is one of Kazuko-san's student volunteer assistants.

the start of the process, flour, water and Kazuko-san!

wanda getting the base started

me and some dough

Ishekawa rolling it out

spreading the dough out and then cutting it in half

chopping the dough into what will be tasty udon noodles

noodles, ready for boling

the final product ready for the masses. don't forget the bamboo. and of course Kauko-san is laughing, as she's always having a good time.

add a little sushi to the mix.

How to Return a Dead Fish

2010-09-29T08:00:00.002-04:00

Cross posted from ironicmom.com

A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting in my neighbour’s dining room performing a community service: neither she nor her husband drink red wine, so when they have some I drink it. Anyway, we were talking about pets. They’re planning to get one; we’re not.
At least, I don’t think we are.
My kids think we’re going to get a dog when they’re ten. We’ve been telling them this since they were three. It is one of my favourite parenting strategies: I tell my children something just so they shut up and then hope like hell they forget what I said.
They still remember. At least once a week, one of them says something like, “What should we name our dog?” or “How long until we’re ten?”
It’s not that I’m anti-dog. I loved my childhood mutts, Caesar and Rebel; it’s just that they were farm dogs, which meant that they didn’t step a paw in the house, we didn’t have to walk them, and we didn’t own a leash. Essentially the dogs took care of themselves and once a week I’d pet them.
Raising a dog in the suburbs is another matter. I still remember house-training my twins; I can’t cope with one more mammal who can’t use a toilet or cook.
As I babbled about all this to my neighbour, she poured me a second glass. “Have you taken the kids to the pet store?” she asked. “You know, to play with the animals.”

A Pet Store That Sells Pets

I took a sip of my wine. “They have animals there?” I asked.
She paused, taking her time to refill her own glass with Sauvignon Blanc. “What did you think they sold?”
I could tell she was reining in the sarcasm.
“Dog food? Leashes?”
Who knew they had animals there.
So on Sunday, needing an activity before the kids returned to school on Monday for Journal Day, I drove five minutes to the pet store.
I can confirm that Petland does indeed have live animals. The kids and I watched a bird squawk, pet a puppy that looked like a mop, and explored the aquarium section.
“Can we get a fish?” William asked.
“No.”
“Why not?” said Vivian.
“Because I can’t even keep a plant alive.”
“We’ll take care of it.”
And then I saw it. The writing on the wall. Literally.

How To Return A Dead Fish

I laughed. The image of me returning with a dead fish, ½ cup of fishbowl water, and a receipt was too vivid.
“Let’s go,” I said.
And out we skipped, empty handed.

Sneezies! I Am Not Ashamed.

2010-09-28T08:00:00.002-04:00

Sneezies! is awesome. It is quite possibly the greatest game that I play that was designed for toddlers. The basic premise of the game is that there are little fuzzy parachutists imprisoned in bubbles that need you to set free by distributing sneezing powder among them. I am not making that up, I swear it. You get one shot to get the sneezing powder out to them and you better hope that you set off a sneezing cascade or not enough of them will parachute to safety. You can understand the pressure that this puts on a player.

Adding to that pressure is the way the game treats you when you don't save your quota of Sneezies. Each level sets a target number for you. I think when the designers made this game, they were thinking about teaching children what it's like to work in retail with impossible sales goals - I was stuck on level 25 for over three weeks recently and felt browbeaten by the time I finished it. If you induce sneezing in more than 50% of your target but still miss it, it says "Oh, not quite, sorry." That's not too bad, but the tone in which it is spoken in my head is awfully condescending. Worse than that, though, is if you get fewer than that 50%, in which case it says "Wow, you missed by miles." When I underperform at this game, I keep waiting for it to say things like, "Seriously, lady?" or "Are you even trying? It sure doesn't seem like it."

There are actually two modes of play in this game: the classic version, which I prefer, and the challenge level. In the challenge version you have several targets within each level, adding a stress that I just can't stomach. This is the version that requires a little bit of strategy; I think that when you're dealing with these little bubble imprisoned bastards and you start to strategize, you've already lost. Why? Because toddlers don't strategize. There is an "Easy Mode," but you might as well just hang it up if you use it, because again, if you need "Easy Mode" in a game that my two year old nephew crushes, you've already lost.

Finally, I love the expression on the Sneezies' faces once their parachutes are open. They look like they're happily drunk. What is in that sneezing powder? Something good, something real good.

How to Eat a Monkey

2010-09-27T08:00:00.000-04:00

This timely and informative article is based on the ehow wiki, how to buy a monkey

Cute as monkeys are, buying one to keep as a pet and then consume should only be done after a lot of research. Not only should you be sure you are buying from a reputable breeder, you also need to familiarize yourself with the behavior of monkeys and decide which recipe you will want to use. I also suggest considering carefully which friends to invite to your monkey feast, and which co-workers to let in on the fact that those delicious looking leftovers are monkey flesh. Follow these steps to make your monkey dinner a success.

Difficulty: Moderate to Difficult

Things You'll Need:

large cage
monkey
chainsaw
The single of the Pixies "Where is My Mind"

Find out if you can legally eat a monkey where you live. Some areas like Somalia, Tribal Autonomous zones in Pakistan, and the entire American Mid-West allow this, some require a permit, and some areas don't allow them at all.
Research the care and feeding of monkeys. Determining the specific behavioral quirks of your monkey will help you to choose the correct preparation methods and appropriate pairing dishes. You'll need a large cage (a cage for a parrot is not big enough, we recommend asking your pet store for a cage big enough to hold a small child). You'll need to feed your monkey fresh fruits and vegetables, cooked meat and fish, grains, yogurt and insects, in addition to commercial primate food. The variety in their diet--and hiding their food to mimic the search for food they would do in the wild--will help prevent boredom. As Martha always says, a bored monkey is a stringy dry monkey! In order to prevent boredom, leave the chainsaw and Pixies single with the monkey at all times. He will also need a cassette player for the album, and gasoline for the chainsaw.
Know that monkeys can be destructive, particularly when bored. especially if given only a chainsaw and a Pixies single for entertainment. If you aren't going to be able to spend a lot of time with them, it's best to get them a companion monkey. They need constant supervision when out of their cages. Monkeys typically become more aggressive after they've hit puberty at around 5 years old, and males are more aggressive than females. A monkey who has been listening to one song on a Pixies album is even more aggressive than most.
Realize that monkeys are expensive food. Depending on the breed, a baby monkey can range from $2,000 to $20,000. Finding a vet who treats primates is sometimes a challenge, and veterinary care is expensive. JUST KIDDING! You're going to eat it. don't spend too much time worrying about it getting the rickets.
Visit someone who owns a monkey. Talk to them about life with a pet monkey, and where they purchased theirs. Ask them to tell you everything they can, the bad as well as the good. When they leave the room, sneak a small slice of their monkey just to get an idea of the treat you are in for,
When the big day comes to finally eat your monkey, it's best not to let it know anything is amiss. A mature male monkey, who by this time has gotten quite good with a chainsaw can be dangerous indeed. Smile at your monkey so as not to arouse suspicion. Offer compliments such as "You have a lovely singing voice" and "You sound JUST like Frank Black". Everyone knows that the only thing that can kill a Pan paniscus is drowning. The most effective method that we have found for getting the job done is to quickly switch out the Pixies tape for a Coldplay album. Given that your monkey has at least an inch of water in his bowl, this should pretty much work itself out over time. Now you are ready to cook, eat and enjoy!