Having a few friends now living in the city (or a train ride away), I need to fit this trip into my travel calendar. I used to have extended family in Brooklyn too — but for whatever reason, we were never invited to reunions and such. I know, some people tell me it’s expensive and overrated, but I don’t hear that from my friends who live there (only that wearing heels in New York, a ‘la Sex in the City is wholly insensible).

Regularly, I see cheap flights (usually on a last-minute basis) so it is not like the trip would be a complete New York City breaks my bank account sort of adventure.

Do you have a travel bucket list too? While I know there is much to do in NYC, I truly want to see the Statue of Liberty. She fascinates me. Perhaps that is just my statue fetish.

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I know. It hurts me too. Could I in good conscience move from 4th Street without eating at THE most popular joint in town? (At least I still have another six months)

Now, I previously had dinner at the old Lola (which is now Lolita), so I suppose technically I still need to eat at Lolita (again). Which was interesting in that a car ran into the front of the restaurant that night, and Symon gave our table seriously one of every dessert on the menu as an “apology” that we needed to enter through the kitchen. Uh, awesome! But I digress…

I finally had some food at the East 4th Lola last Friday. Not a full meal, mind you, just a couple apps to start our night of nosh, but it was SO worth it. With drinks, we had the Hawaiian Crudo “Teriyaki” and beef cheek pierogi. The tuna was gone in six seconds — it was incredible. I’m fairly certain AB licked the remaining sauce from the plate of the pierogi too. Wow. I’ve never had any pierogi prepared quite that way, and all the ingredients together was delicious.

We were careful not to get TOO full because we also had the “Best Thing I Ever Ate” viewing party at The Greenhouse Tavern. What a cute show, by the way. We don’t have cable (and not having the Food Network and maybe the Travel Channel is really the only complaint), so I’m not well-versed on all the “new” non-network shows. But, the interviews with the “top” food stars are interesting, and the show has some extremely fun editing done to make it all over entertaining.

Once at Greenhouse, we were presented with a couple bourbon (martini) drinks — I asked the name of it 20 times, but I still do not remember. Jonathan also shared a bottle of 2008 Rogue Old Crustacean — what a great beer! For how many times we visit The Greenhouse, there always seems to be something new on the menu — which keeps the restaurant relevant and our desire to keep returning. We can never try everything on the menu (although we came incredibly close once)!

While we knew Gravy Frites were DEFINITELY part of our meal (free frites to support their debut in the show), we also shared a couple firsts: pork pate and the foie gras torchon; and a second: the lamb shank ravioli. AB got it right when he commented that the bread crumbs complete that (ravioli) dish. I swear, The Greenhouse (and Chef Sawyer) can do no wrong.

Suzanne from Slightly Bitter in Cleveland joined us after dinner to imbibe in a few delicious cocktails. Which were more of that bourbon (martini) thingy…

Saturday was our east side adventure. I despise the east side (where I grew up, lived and worked for majority of my life), and having already been to that part of town three times in the last week, I was grumpy. BUT we had big plans. Mostly for food.

To give a little more love to Symon and his Cleveland ventures, we had lunch (ahem, breakfast at 11pm) at B Spot.  I had the Yo! burger and, of course, a Vanilla Bean Apple Pie Bacon Milkshake. Wow. Not only did I order it with all the words, but I finished the damn thing. *slurp*

AB ordered the “Smasher Surprise” - which was a loaded baked potato skin on top the burger. Chives, sour cream and all. It looked delicious. We definitely need to return on a day we don’t already have dinner plans.

As we were finishing up our lunch, what was so obviously a “Band” that showed up across the bar from us. You know the type — good hair, fitted jeans, cool hats, tatts. Definitely a band. There’s a good chance it was the guys from Flogging Molly, since I know they were in town last weekend. Moving on…

We needed Jeni’s ice cream. Actually, I think our east side adventure was concocted over the Bourbon Butter Pecan (Jeni’s) ice cream at our Greenhouse meal the night prior (oops, forgot to write that in there!).  We came home with two pints (I wanted five) — the goat cheese, cognac and figs; and the Thai Chili; and randomly, two boxes of Girl Scouts cookies. I have a new friend too in The Miles Farmer’s Market Cheese Lady who kept feeding me samples (and we brought home three block of cheese and an Israeli Feta!!!).

Our Saturday dinner plans were with AB’s parents at Chinato. I was anticipating my return to Zack Bruell’s newest Italian restaurant, especially after our opening night adventure was, well, less than spectacular. I understand how kinks need to be worked out upon a restaurant new open — I get it, and I’ll always give a second (or third) chance. Our first visit, EVERYTHING was wrong. The food was great — what they brought us — but there was everything from a missing appetizer, an incorrect salad, missing ingredients from entrees and horrible gaps in service (we were at the restaurant for three-and-a-half hours the first night, and too much time was spent without food or the tableware  to eat it with). I see though that nothing has been done in the way of hiring non-ditzy hostesses. OMG. A coat check and an OpenTable reservation is NOT that difficult to grasp.

We started by splitting few appetizers: the beef tongue (which I’ve never had), chicken livers and the tuna crudo risotto (which we orderd at our first visit to Chinato, and they never brought us…). I was impressed how tender and delicious the beef tongue was, especially after I wince on seeing one EVERY time I’m at the market. I hope that tuna risotto is on the lunch menu because I want to have that again. Now, please. It was NOTHING like the risotto presented to us on opening night (totally unlike the warm, hammy risotto mess from our prior visit).

For dinner I ordered the “Deconstructed” Ribolitta which was so flavorful (and was enough for two meals for me). The Pork (two way) entree that AB’s dad ordered was incredible. I’ll likely order that heart attack on a plate on our return (oh yes, we will be back). Too bad I couldn’t sample the boillobaise sauce that everyone was raving about because of my shellfish allergy — the words “best I ever had” were exchanged.

Now, I’m hungry. Time to pull some leftovers out of my fridge. Or could I get away with eating just ice cream and Girl Scouts cookies for lunch?

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Nearly every event, I win a raffle prize — friends used to HATE me at candle/cooking/sex toy parties. I always go home with something extra. I made a random comment on this Betty Crocker gift set on the table. Guess who won it. I now have enough jars of frosting to last me through at LEAST eight more bouts of PMS. Cookies? Psssh. You just need a big spoon and a container of cream cheese yumminess.

Meanwhile, I cannot catch a break on these silent auctions! There was a fantastic basket full of Aveda beauty schwag and gift certificates out the wazoo for massages, hair colors, pedicures (and I mean the PLURAL). The “prize” was valued at nearly $900. I bid $200, then some lady sniped me just as the auction ended with $205. For serious. More than anything, I need a massage. Especially that we don’t have a true desk in the apartment, and I typically work from the dining room table. Neck? Sucks. The boyfriend promised me a massage regardless of winning. So, I guess I still win.

I volunteered for this Sunday’s Road to the Red Carpet gala at Pickwick & Frolic. It is too bad that we couldn’t bring a purse and/or camera because East 4th looked gorgeous! Ahem, and I guess I did too…

Crooky smile & all.

The night, benefitting the Greater Cleveland Film Commission was a great time. I met some of the most interesting people — movers & shakers of Cleveland, if you will — all in some capacity wanting to help our city be its best. I admit, it was disheartening to find I wasn’t selected to be an ambassador with DCA, but I keep making connections with amazing locals who equally desire to make Cleveland home, bring & keep jobs within the city and generally promote all its awesomeness from within. So, Cleveland will still get all the love I have to give.

You know, whatever is left over after lovin’ AB.

Clevelanders, what are you doing to keep this city being awesome?

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Each Penis character has his own social media page too. So, what generalizations are made based on whether your penis is on MySpace or Facebook? The comics within are all kinds of awesome (click through for more of the funny).

In any case, I give them credit for the pierced penis. *hot*

(h/t Jason)

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How fucking pretty is he?

Meanwhile, AB & I decided to extend our lease on East 4th for another six months, so we’ll be around through October. Which is kind of cool because Check Me Out - I technically have a corner office. Sweet. It’s all how you look at things, friends.

Regardless of domestic partnership bliss, here are a few gems in my Reader this week:

All huge favorites of The Frisky columns - mostly because of its typical ridiculous fluff. Let’s discuss together Humans & Monogamy (impossible), The Cheater Registry (yikes… or yes! depending on your glass) and my favorite, Blogging About Dating (because we would never dare *snerk*). I mean, it’s a bit redundant because you can just blog about the cheating bastards, right?

There’s also the sultry readings of The Lesbian Experience. Or, you know, you could just come back here for more information. Oh, I just talk about penises. Carry on, then…

To any of my Pittsburgh lovelies, I’m heading to the Steel City for St. Patrick’s Day. While the day after will be booked with some cultural to-dos, I need a friend or two for some Irish Good Times on the holiday itself.  Somebody MUST befriend me, so I’m not left to fall off bridges all on my own. And so that I do not blog bad things about our epically-hated neighbor to our East. There are tentative plans to stalk PittGirl from That’s Church. It has nothing to do with Mexican food. At all.

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Damn, I bet it feels almost God-like to be a chaperone.

I remember a snowy-highways-closed road trip to Niagara upon turning 19 (you know, the drinking under 21 legality thing) with HSS. I’m certain we went there for sex without supervision too. And a little gambling.

But not on the birth control.

That leaves almost a decade of not traveling to our Neighbor of the North. And if I went again, I can’t remember. Shocker, Mel.

The idea that actually PARTYING in Toronto is a mere six hours away is ridiculous. Actual techno clubs. Dance music. Happy and equal gay people. OK, so maybe I want to try my luck at a real Canadian lesbian.

Vancouver (and British Columbia in general) reads like an amazing adventure-filled wonderland of camping/kayaking/something outdoorsy. I’m thinking a week of Oregon/Washington/BC could work with my new freelance availability. Boyfriend?

Hopefully it’s also gay-friendly on the West coast. I get confused between time zones.

And no, I am not interested in those sipid vampire-y tourist traps.

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Thursday, January 7 (Day #1) - We boarded the boat around noon (beside Ken Block of Sister Hazel - premier host of the boat). Chelsea Williams (hottie) was already playing in the Atrium. Heard some rumor she plays on the streets in LA. She’s amazingly talented. Started the day with a Wideawake Gin & Tonic. And a few shots from new friends.

We wandered around a bit, discovering all the spots my boyfriend had sex before he met me listening to music from all parts of the boat. Eventually as vacationers boarded and rooms were opened, the essential lifeboat drill was given. (Which is always hilarious — and we didn’t even need to bring out life jackets… odd). We were late. Late, like, everyone looked at us being late to class, late.

It got a little chilly during the Sail Away party. Sister Hazel played outside on Lido Deck. Party hats were passed around, and there was birthday cake…

Can you see my hickey?

Dammit. I didn’t get any ten-year TRB birthday cake.

Day #2 - We spent most of the morning in/around the hot tub. Until I developed a freakin rash. Not knowing if it was from bromine or the hurricane I had for breakfast, I got out quickly and rehydrated. Music throughout the day on deck — it was still a little breezy — hoodie-type weather. Not as bad as back home, but definitely not made for bikinis.

Yes, I'm in this picture!

It was COVERS DAY on deck, with every other band playing a set from a popular album and artist.

B-liminal kicked off the afternoon on the Lido Deck, with their brand of reggae-ish pot music? *blink* I guess, think Sublime as an influence. I’m not sure how exactly to describe the music, but it was fun party stuff — wholly different than other bands on the boat.

Round up of the remainder of Day #2 shows: Sun Domingo covered The Police. Oval Opus (OHIO!!!) did their own set. Stephen Kellogg & the Sixers played Tom Petty’s  ”Full Moon Fever.” Mostly unknown hits, which I appreciated (even if everyone around wanted all his music of the Wildflowers era). Blackberry Smoke, a Southern Rock band totally kicked the party into high gear. I couldn’t listen to the music while checking out the promo CD — just difficult to get into the mood for genre of music — but live, it’s a completely different experience. Kudos to these guys. Good, good times.

(brief dinner, change for St. Patrick’s celebration)

Perverts. Don’t watch me undress.

Back to St. Patrick’s Day/Covers Day. “Fleetwood Hazel” played the entire Rumours album from Fleetwood Mac (I wrote a bit about that over at Addicted to Vinyl — Matt is also pissed that it’s taking me eight years to write music posts about my trip). Sister Hazel also gave a shout out to… The Cleveland Browns?! I think one of the guys from the group is hometown bred, but I didn’t catch who. Matt?

At some point during the day — could have been a bathroom break, since our room was nearby the Atrium. But I digress… Ken (Block) and Drew (Copeland) sang “Happy” acoustic and changed the words to dedicate to THE MAN of the Sixthman crew — the one-and-only, Cappy. It was an epic moment.

Shortly after Sister Hazel’s Rumours performance, we booked inside to see Tyrone Wells again, before heading BACK outside for Gaelic Storm — who are my new faves. (And coming to Cleveland’s House of Blues next Thursday!!!). Oh, and they sing my and AB’s song. I mean, our anniversary is ON St. Patrick’s Day, so is there anything more appropriate?

There are two ways to watch a Gaelic Storm show.

Exhibit A: dressing the part.

Wear green: get lucky!

Exhibit B: drinking the part.

Mel + Jameson = Best Friends 4Ever

I know, you’re thinking… “WHA? Another costume change?” Well, no, this was the next night (Mardi Gras), at another Gaelic Storm concert on the boat. But let’s get to the part where I’m swigging from a community bottle of Jameson. Good thing alcohol kills all what ills. There was little evidence of my drinking the night prior. Pseh. Right.
Both exhibits lend little to the true Irish tradition of St. Patrick’s Day, but certainly enhance the greatest of yearly holidays on the calendar. Especially when it’s JANUARY. Oooh, that means I get to celebrate it AGAIN this month (you know, since it took me until March to finish this post)! Sweet.

Gaelic Storm is great fun live — encouraging everyone to drink and get on stage. Almost everyone was in some sort of St. Patrick’s Day appropriate attire (or just wearing green, as it were). Hilariously, someone dressed as the ACTUAL St. Patrick (he was called up on stage too). Storm also referenced “the only black guy on the boat” cheering along in the audience. It was kind of funny, as Patrick (from Gaelic Storm) exchanged jokes with the crowd.

“Be quiet, St. Patrick - Shut up, black man.” was by far their funniest live moment. Seriously, the demographic point was spot on — this cruise was filled with 1,998 white 20-30-40-somethings. And (I saw two) a black men. Also in the audience were three guys dressed in all green — like “Green Screen Men” in head-to-toe bodysuits. Patrick laughed at them on stage, “Where are your penises?”

Oh, and again, back to Mardi Gras night (which I’ll get to, dammit!), on the left is Patrick from Gaelic Storm:

We hung out into the wee-wee hours.

One of the best things about a cruise is being able to eat whenever you want. If you don’t feel like 24-hour pizza, order something from room service. On our first night of the cruise, here was my late-night order (apparently for breakfast the next morning?): Cheerios AND Cinnamon Toast Crunch (no milk), a giant carafe of coffee, wheat toast, some bran-ish muffin, honey & strawberry jam (that looked eerily like chocolate). And a banana. Right. Decisions are made famously at 4am.

Day #3 and #4 are coming soon. This time, I promise not in another two months.

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Misprints or misnomers aside, I’ve had the task of developing a brand for myself — for my new business, that is. Instead of unemployment, I’m going the route of self-employment. With that, a company name is in order, and by some seriously-appreciated suggestions, I think I got that finally pinned down. And I have clients already, so that totally works. A great friend who is a graphic designer will be taking on the role of creating my logo and business “look.” She’s awesome, and only wants my cookies. It’s totally a fair trade. This professional progress takes about 1/4 of the stress out of my week.

Since I was already in the midst of transitions and apparently not giving myself enough things to do, after TALKING about starting roller derby for a year or two, I’m actually DOING it. I  acquired all my protective gear — new skates and such — and start practices in the rec league tonight. I’ll be participating in the Burning River Roller Girls Boot Camp and hopefully be ready for tryouts in three weeks. Yeah, less than three weeks now that I see the calendar. So, hopefully this is the perfect way to expunge all that pent up energy and bombs of stress.

For whatever unexplained reason of mental sciences and/or brain function, I’m more stressed about my derby name than my business name. Where is the sense in that?

All these naming rights need to be equally family-friendly, which is totally not my thing. I have one or more double entendres in my arsenal that need to be morphed from a blog post into at LEAST a PG-13 namesake. Obviously, anything with “penis” will just not work, which makes me sad. Horny still, but sad.

I should have gone into porn.

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So, dialing in and talking with a handful of likewise (horny) Clevelanders can make for an interesting blog post such as this because OMG I’m so excited I just exchanged chats with a totally hot brunette who was just randomly in her hot tub. THEY EXIST!

But with the advent of the Internets, have these telephone party lines become obsolete? If anything, calling the national party line from our cell phones, we no longer have to worry of our parents finding those long-distance charges.

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This weekend, a group of us decided to check it out — at 3 in the morning. For every boring person there was a fair share of SURPRISE! PENIS! (or Hello, Boobies, for what it’s worth). Some users were hilarious, mouthing “What the Fucks?!” and streaming maniacal laughing or chair dancing and the like. Even one cat dancing to Missy Elliot.

The funniest camera shot by FAR was the display of what we labeled Pterodactyl Porn. Yeah, I have no clue either — it was one of those moments you had to stare longingly to grasp what was happening on the monitor, but you feared there would suddenly be a penis in your face (or three, in this case). Let’s say we have two frantically flapping pterodactyls (I imagine much like the furry fetish) with a naked lady in the middle on top of another pterodactyl. Bam. Pterodactyl Porn. And with that, I made the mistake of actually Googling it. It’s incredibly easy to find, if you’re the least bit intrigued.

Oh, Chatroulette is addicting.

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