Who You Callin’ Chicken?

18 Jul

I like an awful lot of things about my new apartment, but if I had to pick one thing I definitely do not like, it’s my local food options.

I think I’ve now tried every pizza and sandwich shop in Cleveland Circle — Pino’s, Presto, Eagle’s Deli, Roggies, etc. — and I’ve basically had the same thing at every one of them: a chicken cutlet sub. (Often it’s parmigiana.) I have to say, not a one of them has left me feeling satisfied. I mean, how hard is it to put a couple pieces of chicken on a toasted roll, and add mayo and lettuce.

It’s simple, right?

Well, Thursday night I tried Eagle’s Deli for the first time, and that may have been the worst one of all. Continue reading →

Remember When …

15 Jul

It’s funny how in all the pomp and pagentry that preceded the All-Star Game tonight, and all the recalling of memorable moments that took place at Yankee Stadium, there was no mention of the Yankees choking in 2004. I’m sure that was just an oversight. And I’m sure when MLB was planning this most exciting occasion and recalling all the fond memories that fans have of this hallowed ballpark, they simply forgot about Curt Schilling’s triumphant Game Six performance during the 2004 ALCS with the bloody sock, or how A-Rod embarrassed himself when he swatted the ball away when Bronson Arroyo went to tag him out. There wasn’t even a mention of Johnny Damon’s big grand slam in Game 7 of that series — maybe because he was playing for the Red Sox back then. Those may not be fond memories for Yankee fans, but when the House that Ruth Built is torn down (and we can finally stop hearing about what a great place this is/was), they will be the cherished memories I’ll remember most.

Not So High

15 Jul

I wish I was more excited about The Wackness. This movie, about a New York teen who sells marijuana as a summer job and falls in love with his shrink’s stepdaughter, looked pretty cool, what with its soundtrack of 1990s hip-hop and a seemingly amusing hangdog performance by Josh Peck. Alas, the movie doesn’t live up to my own self-generated hype and it ends up being less than dope. Yes, as you may have heard, Ben Kingsley and Mary-Kate Olsen make out in one scene, but that’s mostly just a tease; the scene isn’t even necessary, and it just further emphasizes how little credibility Kingsley’s character has. There are a few good lines and a couple decent laughs, and Peck’s performance does have its moments, but overall, I got no buzz from The Wackness, and that’s why I’m giving it a C-.

Don’t Take a Chance on This

14 Jul

So … this is what it looks like when Meryl Streep is slumming, eh?

In the film adaptation of Mamma Mia!, the musical about a girl (Amanda Seyfried) who invites three men to her wedding in the hopes of finding out which one is her father (a show I’ve never seen, by the way, and have consciously avoided), Streep plays the girl’s mother, who now runs a hotel on a remote Greek island.

Oh, and the whole thing is set to the music of ABBA.

If you’ve read this far, congratulations. That’s farther than I got seeing the movie. Continue reading →

X Marks the Spot

11 Jul

I’ve always been kind of fascinated by reading about myself. Or rather, articles and books that discuss my generation or groups I’m a part of. So that’s why I chose Jeff Gordinier’s X Saves the World: How Generation X Got the Shaft But Can Still Keep Everything from Sucking as my latest book to read. I’ve now finished it (hooray!) and wanted to weigh in.

In the book, Gordinier posits that Generation X, the generation that’s often perceived as misunderstood, hard to categorize, and largely ignored, has the unfortunate luck of being sandwiched between the self-centered Baby Boomers and the self-centered Millennials. And because it’s often pigeon-holed as being forgotten, the accomplishments of Gen X are often overlooked. To wit: members of Gen X created YouTube, Google, Wikipedia, and Craigslist. Zines, a Gen X creation, were the progenitor of blogs. Netscape changed the face of Web browsing. Jon Stewart, Barack Obama, Kurt Cobain, and Dave Eggers are all members of Gen X. In essence, we, the members of Generation X, have a lot to be proud of.

So why are we always overlooked? Gordinier’s major thesis is that it’s because Boomers and Millenials keep hogging the spotlight, either by comparing their accomplishments to ours (Boomers) or by adopting and assuming ownership of our creations (Millenials). “The boomers never came up with anything that approaches the hugeness of Google,” he writes. “John Lennon got bitch-slapped for saying the Beatles were bigger than Jesus, but Google … gives God a run for His money.” Gordinier, also an editor-at-large at Details magazine, adds that we are a generation that doesn’t want or crave attention, and we’re happy to make change happen quietly, almost under the radar, if it brings us personal satisfaction. Getting attention isn’t the goal, like it is for so many Millenials (Paris Hilton takes a pretty big — albeit expected — hit for that), and that only serves to make our accomplishments that much more significant. And that’s also probably why you may not have heard of the Poetry Bus, for example, which gets almost as much space in the book as Nirvana and Lauryn Hill.

Amid the pop culture and political references and recaps of case studies we’ve heard before, Gordinier makes a moderately effective call to action, and says we’re nearing the time when Gen X can reclaim its rightful place in the world. “The Bush crowd will be gone soon, and then we can pounce,” he writes.

I’m not sure the book is as compelling as I’d hoped it’d be, but it’s a pretty easy read and it oftentimes reaffirms the belief that Generation X is not a bunch of slackers. I wish the book was more rallying cry or manifesto like it is at the very end, but there’s something to be said for learning from others’ example. Sure, I may not have changed the world like some people have, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be proud to be associated (in the most minimal of connections) with the people Gordinier includes. And hey, like the author encourages, maybe my time is coming. Stay tuned.

(And if you want to hear more about this book, here’s a video of Gordinier explaining what it’s all about.)

News to Him

10 Jul

On my way into work today, I stopped at Bruegger’s for breakfast. “Cinnamon raisin bagel with smoked salmon spread, please,” I ordered. So the guy gets a bagel, slices it, and as he’s spreading the cream cheese, he looks up and says to me, “You know, there’s another word for this.” Intrigued, I asked what that was. “Lox,” he tells me. Now, I hate to mock the guy or anything, because he was being friendly and sharing something he thought I might not know, but of all things, that was kind of an amusing thing to tell me — especially in a bagel place — given that, well, I’m Jewish (which he couldn’t have known) and bagels and lox are something I eat often. In fact, usually when I want to order lox, I have to ask for smoked salmon simply because places like Bruegger’s and Finagle a Bagel don’t know from lox. But amusement aside, I figured I should return the favor. “Actually,” I said to the guy, “it’s also known as nova.” The guy looked at me, smiled, and said, “That’s a new one for me.” So maybe I did a service today, and I helped to educate a Bruegger’s employee. Who knows? Maybe one day soon I’ll even be able to stop in and order a bagel with lox spread.

[And to my readers who know better, yes, I know lox and nova are not exactly the same, nor is smoked salmon. That’s a detail that’s not really worth getting into at Bruegger’s.]

Ain’t That America

4 Jul

I sure hope I’m not the only one who still gets chills every year when the Boston Pops hits the final verse of “Stars and Stripes Forever” and the flag unfurls from the top of the Hatch Shell and the confetti shoots out from the machines on the sides of the Esplanade.

It’s a fantastic, only-in-Boston moment, five of my favorite minutes of the year, and it never ceases to excite me year after year after year.

My only real regret about the Pops show this year (and every year) is that the national audience doesn’t get to see and hear more of it. Continue reading →

Waah Waah Waah

3 Jul

A small favor to ask of all the mothers, helpers, and others who may be wheeling around babies and other young’uns: If your child is crying — and not just crying but wailing — and you’re about to get on a crowded T during rush hour, please think twice.

Don’t be like the woman who wheeled a crying baby onto the B line this morning and did nothing to quiet the kid down as we rode all the way down Comm Ave. Continue reading →

HOOOOOOOOME RUUUUUUNNNNN !!!!

2 Jul

I’ve been working on an article about soccer — sorry, I mean football — in Milan, and happened upon this clip of Tiziano Crudeli, who is like Milan’s version of Jerry Remy. I know it’s old news when an announcer goes nuts for a goal, but there’s something about Crudeli that just cracks me up. He actually looks a little bit like Remy, so I was trying to picture RemDawg going this bezerk when Manny or Papi or someone hits a homerun. Can you just imagine? Watch this clip and tell me you can see it too. I particularly love the guy who appears at the 49-second mark to the left who is pretty much oblivious to the mayhem right next to him. Good stuff. And if you don’t know RemDawg, I’ve got a classic clip of him below the Crudeli one. Enjoy.

No One

1 Jul

Sometime in June 2005, I was asked at the Virgin Megastore on Newbury Street (before it was a lame Best Buy) if I wanted to buy a $1 wristband to support One, the organization founded by Bono to combat world hunger, poverty, and other global issues.

I’m on record as saying I don’t support hunger, so I said yes, and almost instantly, I put the wristband on my wrist.

Over the years, people would ask me what the white wristband meant, and I would often use the same line: it’s my way of identifying myself as a single person. That, or I’d say a census taker came by, saw I was single, and told me to wear the wristband.

I enjoyed extending the story to explain that if I ever saw someone on the street wearing one of these wristbands, I’d know she was available and a potential mate.

I guess it’s safe to say that I supported the cause of ending my single status more than that of ending world hunger. And to that end, I always wore the wristband.

Always.

Annoyingly and unattractively so, it never came off. (Except for my sister’s wedding, when she asked me to remove it. Hey, you don’t mess with a bride.)

Well, this past weekend I finally took the wristband off.

For good.

No, it’s not because I’ve started dating someone. And amazingly enough, its not because I realized the wristband was probably counter-productive to getting women to go out with me (though I suppose there may be something to that).

It’s just that, um, er, well, ah, I finally decided that the wristband’s kinda lame.

And I think everyone agrees because I never see anyone wearing any kind of wristband. Not white ones, not red ones — not even the yellow ones that were so ubiquitous a year or two ago.

In fact, I don’t think I ever saw another person wearing a white wristband in the entire three-year period I had one on.

But passing fad aside, what happened?

Those yellow Livestrong bracelets were everywhere. Now they’re nowhere.

I’ll admit, my wristband came off partly because it was just not cool anymore to wear it. But that’s me and I’m lame like that.

Where are all the other people who are less impressionable than me? What happened to their bracelets?

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