The Ramblings of Dave

As many of you know, I am your typical outdoorsy hunting and fishing kind of guy.  Except I prefer to do my outdoorsy stuff in a nice polo with perfectly coiffed hair. Also, when I say “hunting” I mean it in less of the “hunting to kill and eat animals sense” as I mean it in the “hunting for great bargains on quality goods and apparel”. So it should come as no surprise that I decided to go offshore fishing with some folks from church on the 4^th of July.

We drove as a group to San Diego the afternoon before. The drive was mostly uneventful except for a particularly windy section of Interstate 8. There was small debris flying around and, at one point, the driver I was following put on his hazard lights and began to slow down. He then veered slightly left just avoiding a giant tumbleweed. Because of his actions, I was able to avoid reorienting our van’s grill. It was nice to see the hazard lights used in the fashion they were intended. I was beginning to think their intended purpose was to notify all drivers around you that you are only parking in a fire lane to rent a Redbox.

We ended up getting in around 8:30 at night. After scarfing down some In-N-Out (random side note: In-N-Out, putting the number of calories next to each menu item is easily the worst business decision I have ever seen! It didn’t change the amount of food I ate, but it did increase the guilt factor significantly) we headed to Mission Beach. Now I normally am very concerned about the amount of sleep I get at night so I would not typically head out to the beach that late knowing I need to wake up at 4:30 the next morning. Being a team player though, I went along with it and learned something new as a matter of fact. I had never heard of “sand crabs” but apparently they are everywhere at the beach, burrowed underground of course. We had a jolly time finding the creatures and holding them. For those of you who are unfamiliar with a sand crab, the video below shows them in all their wriggly, writhing wonder.

After the beach, it was time to hit the sack. Most of our group was staying at a classy resort called the Handlery on Hotel Circle. I, being the budget-conscious consumer could not justify paying nearly double to stay there when I could save that money and stay at a budget hotel literally a mile down the road (for the sake of anonymity, I shall refer to this hotel with a fake name: Motel Seis). I figured I’d be sleeping anyways, it doesn’t matter whether my hotel had an on-site salon, coffee in the room, or even a working television. I had made the reservations 10 days in advance but Karina felt it was appropriate to send me the following text message not 5 minutes from when we were going to get to the hotel: “my mom said the Motel Seis on hotel circle is frequented by prostitutes. Just a heads up. It’s a dirty dive.” Needless to say, I was ecstatic to get that text. And by ecstatic, I meant terrified.

So the gentleman I was rooming with and I hop in the car and head over to our Motel. And what is literally the first thing we see at the motel? (and I cannot make this stuff up) A “lady” standing on a balcony in a miniskirt smoking a cigarette with her leg up on the railing in a manner that says “come hither”.  While this was definitely NOT what I wanted to see, I was very pleased with the hotel service. All of the ladies were very friendly. Every woman I saw wanted to know how I was doing and if I was interested in a good time. I told them “golly, I sure am. That’s why I am in San Diego!” I am not sure why they all referred to me as big boy though.

Despite the rough surroundings, I was able to get a good night sleep…and probably three venereal diseases just by using their sheets. We awoke at 4:45 in order to get on the road at 5. It took my left eye a good half hour to figure out it was time to get up and look straight ahead. I was surely groggy, but based on my favorite reality show Deadliest Catch, it’s not real fishing unless you are doing it on little to no sleep. Also, the fishing should be done on huge seas in less than freezing weather. I was sure to encounter conditions like that off the coast of San Diego so I brought a fashionable hoodie.

I boarded our vessel, the mighty Malihini, at about 5:30 in preparation for our voyage’s scheduled 6 am departure.

Two seasickness prevention armbands and a Dramamine patch were used to ensure my voyage would not be ruined by some nausea.

Soon we were off on our voyage. My first order of business was to place my breakfast order in the galley and start taking advantage of my all-day-coffee-for-$2 deal. Our first stop was to pick up some additional live bait.  The boat was already stocked with live squid for our use. Thankfully, the squid character on Spongebob was obnoxious so it didn’t pain me to impale the little squids in an attempt to capture fish. However, if it was starfish or sea sponges we were using, I don’t think I could have done it. In addition to the squid we were picking up Sardines and Anchovies to hopefully attract larger, cannibalistic fish.

Once the boat was stocked with bait, we headed off to our first fishing spot. One of the first differences I noticed between our boat and a Bering Sea crab boat is the captain. Ours used words like “please” and “thank you”. Additionally, he did not use words that would have to be bleeped if shown during primetime. Needless to say, I was encouraged by this. I began to think I may just make it through my first trip as a greenhorn.

Our first stop was a couple miles off the coast of Tijuana. I don’t remember what we were fishing for and it didn’t really matter because we didn’t catch it. However, it was nice to just sit on the rail imagining that I may soon be bringing up a 400 pound marlin. After a half hour to an hour of donating bait to the ocean, we moved on to our second destination: the Coronado Islands.

We spent the majority of our day fishing around these islands. At one point, we apparently landed on a Sculpin factory as we were pulling these fish out faster than the poor deckhands could help take them off our line. Our boat ended up catching 150 of these fish (or, keeping this many, we probably threw back 50-100 as well). The Sculipn are a reddish fish with poisonous barbs. I had never heard of these but, according to pretty much everyone, they are pretty good eating. I took the following picture with one on the line as I waited for a deckhand to pull it off. At that time I was probably 4^th in line to get the fish pulled off. It literally took longer to reel these fish in from 200 feet down than it took to get one on the hook.

After all of us had been puling these fish in for a good 30-40 minutes, the captain announced that we needed to keep in mind our limit of 5 of any single kind of fish per day. This was certainly good to know. Thankfully, I had just caught my 5^th keeper so I stopped and walked around the boat and attempted to pull in some other fish using a sardine. While I was doing this, I accidentally caught a sea lion who ended up breaking my line.

We did stop at one other spot on our way back in where our group started pulling in some nice barracuda. I got nothing more than a few bites. My final catch tally was 5 Sculpin, two of my largest are displayed in the picture below. Keep in mind my fish only appear small due to an intricate optical illusion resulting from the angle of the sun and the proportion of my biceps.

As we sailed back to San Diego, I had some time to reflect upon our voyage and I made the following observations:

1. You don’t really have to catch anything to have fun fishing. It was great being out on the ocean with friends and being hopeful to catch something.

2. One needs to be very vigilant in applying sunscreen when on a boat for 10 hours in direct sunlight. I applied some SPF 50 sunscreen twice during the voyage but, thanks to my sunglasses, I still look like I am looking through a pair of white binoculars at a nuclear detonation. I realize the sunscreen I used, pictured below, is for babies. I tend to use this as it can be used for my kids and the sunscreen is gentle on my sensitive skin)

3. Next time I fish in Mexican waters I will bring my passport. A Mexican military boat cruised around us as a show of intimidation. We were instructed by the captain to congregate in one area if we were boarded as they are from time to time. I did not see “occasional foreign military onboarding” as a feature in the brochure.

The rest of the trip proved uneventful with the exception of the drive home. We were heading east on Interstate 8 just outside of Casa Grande when we drove right into the massive haboob of July 5 that hit Phoenix. Those of you who are not familiar with haboobies (I’m pretty sure that’s the plural of haboob) are no doubt wondering if it’s about time I have a censor review my posts. Not to worry, a haboob is a giant dust storm. Let me tell you, they are fun to look at in pictures (I have seen some giant haboobies in pictures on the internet…oh wait, that doesn’t sound right) but are NOT fun to drive through. The picture below shows our visibility as we went through:

Thanks to God (and that’s not just an expression) we made it back home safely. Now, we get to look forward to gulpin’ some Sculpin.

I think we can all agree that our culture is in a precipitous decline (with the obvious notable exception of Conan O’ Brien…he is AWESOME). Reality shows about egotistical, over tanned, pompous northeasterners rule the airwaves (take your pick between the Apprentice and Jersey Shore) and stuff like this passes for “art”:

as does this:

(For those of you less than thirty-five, that picture is of Art Garfunkel who is famous for something.)

But my main gripe with society has to do with our music, specifically, the lyrics. I’m not sure if I have just been paying more attention now, but it seems like the lyrics in today’s pop music are getting more and more stupid. “Not true” you say? “We need conclusive examples” you whine? “We are skeptical and privileged to be your friend” you point out? Well, here are three recent examples I have stumbled upon while listening to Ryan Seacrest’s Top 40 countdown. Whoa, whoa, whoa!! Don’t you be getting any wrong ideas. I subjected myself to Ryan’s witty banter and the catchy tunes to compile examples for YOU.

Evidence Number 1:

“Pretty Girl Rock” by Keri Hilson

This touching ode to one woman’s self-confidence informs society that they should neither hate her nor trip because she is beautiful. It also includes the following lyric:

“Boys wanna marry looking at my derri-

ere, you can stare but if you touch it I’ma bury”

While she gets points for including a synonym for “butt” in her song (my juvenile sense of humor gets a kick out of it) and the end of the sentence leaves me clinging for more information (WHAT will she bury?!), this is still an amazingly stupid line. She is cheating on her rhyme by using half of derriere to sound like marry. This lyric would have been a classic if she had rhymed the full word derriere (like with “fairy hair” or “Hairy chair” or “Gary’s lair”).

Evidence Number 2:

“Down on me” by Jeremih

This artist dug himself a hole right off the bat with his name. Not only do I have no idea how to pronounce it, it is driving my spell-check crazy. I do not in any way recommend anyone listening to this song. It’s subject is, shall we say, mature and the main instrument is apparently a space laser. Not only that, the online translation of the lyrics includes the term “incomprehensible”. I can assure you, this was not an actual lyric as there don’t appear to be any other words in the song bigger than 4 letters. The worst lyric of the song is this one:

“oh you look so sweet

what you work in Ballys

look at your physique”

I am pretty sure I gather what the “singer” is trying to say, but my grammatical editor alter-ego gets frustrated with the second line. Technically speaking, the answer to the second question (what you work in Ballys) should be something along the lines of “elliptical machines” or “the towel washing machine”.

Honorable mention:

Snoop Dogg in Katie Perry’s “California Girls”

Were this Snoop’s song he would have made the list but since his rap was only a cameo, he gets an honorable mention for this beauty:

“Hanging out

Bikinis, tankinis, martinis,

no weenies”

I am not sure what he has against hot dogs in the summer, but the word “weenies” coming out of such a lyrical mastermind leaves me unsettled. Were it me, I would have substituted another, classier rhyming word such as “no linguine” or “blue jeanys”.

It just seems to me that today’s musical authors are getting lazy and creating meaningless sayings in order to make a rhyme. Back in the day, that NEVER would have happened. Perhaps I am just spoiled. After all, I did grow up listening to musical gold such as

“Something grabs a hold of me tightly
Flow like a harpoon daily and nightly
Will it ever stop yo I don’t know
Turn off the lights and I’ll glow“

Varner out.

Anyone who knows me will recognize I really only have two flaws: poor eyesight and an inability to recognize flaws in myself. While I have made no attempts to correct thelatter, I have addressed the former with years of using glasses and contact lenses. My vision was bad enough to prevent me from doing things like driving, playing sports, or navigating my bedroom barefoot without the aid of corrective lenses. For those of you with excellent vision, I can only describe mine as viewing the world through a petroleum jelly covered sheet of saran wrap underwater. Only not as sharp.

Glasses and contact lenses adequately addressed my vision, but there were still many times I wished I could see better naturally. For example, in school I would occasionally take off my glasses to give my eyes and head a break. The only problem is when I did that I couldn’t see more than 5 feet in front of me. I would often find myself staring at a blob only to realize it was someone sitting across the room from me. Thankfully I managed to avoid getting in trouble from these situations (either the blobs didn’t realize I was staring or they didn’t mind).

For years I have been waiting for my prescription to stabilize so I could get LASIK. I finally received the good news that I was a candidate last month. I immediately made an appointment with an eye doctor who came highly recommended from my optometrist and a friend. Before I knew it I had an appointment to undergo the procedure which occurred two weeks ago.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with LASIK, it is an acronym that stands for something. I am pretty sure the L stands for Laser and the other words are fancy schmancy doctor words for “eye surgery”. Either way, the procedure does an amazing job of correcting sight problems but carries some inherent risks. I gathered from skimming the waiver I signed that some of the potential risks from the procedure were loss of vision or even the entire eyeball. I had assumed these risks going in and was ready to accept the ramifications of losing an eyeball as mine were defective anyway.

I showed up for my appointment on surgery day excited, apprehensive, and with a full bladder. Once taking care of the bladder situation, I was instructed by the nurses to take the valium that had been prescribed to me. The picture below is a dramatic reenactment of me taking the medication and the subsequent effects.

Next, I had to remove anything that would get in the way of the procedure like, judging by the hat and booties I was forced to wear, my dignity. See below for an actual photograph of me in the hat and booties on the day of my arrival. (This is the last known picture of me with defective eyes – as evidenced by my inability to locate the camera while the picture was being taken) While I looked like an imbecile (or perhaps a hospital cafeteria worker) I didn’t really care as I was on Valium.

After I donned the cap and booties, allowed the valium to take effect, and passed the blood pressure test, it was on to the procedure! The first step involves the creation of a flap of the cornea using a laser. This flap is then pulled up and a laser is used to reshape my cornea, correcting my vision. One peculiar memory of the procedure is the smell of my own burning cornea. This is not necessarily something I’d like to experience again. Once completed, the flap is then pushed down. The image below is an illustration of the procedure whereas the “F” is the flap and “L” is the laser (I assume “S” stands for “Seared Cornea”).

After the procedure, my eyes were flooded with numerous drops to promote healing and prevent infection. They also masked my manly tears of relief that the procedure was finished.

I was instructed to keep my eyes closed as much as possible for the rest of the day. This did not prove to be an issue as it felt as if I had accidentally dumped a bucket of beach sand in my eyes. In fact, it was an ordeal for me to try to open them, which was incredibly tempting as I wanted to check out my new vision. Believe it or not, the stylish eyewear you see me wearing in the picture below were provided AT NO EXTRA CHARGE to me after the surgery! What a gonga!

Five month update: After several months of getting used to my new vision, I am super happy about the surgery. My vision is still 20/15 and should stay that way for good. I’ve had to baby my eyes to keep them from getting hurt and I managed to get pink eye in both, but both eyes have made it through are in good shape. I think my only regret is not paying for the X-ray and night vision upgrades. Alas, I’ll make do…

As of the last month or so Karina and I have been having some conversations about initiating a rite of passage for our kiddos. And I am not talking about the rite involving body hair springing up in new places or even the rite of having the kids move on from being the correct age to enjoy restaurant kids meals to having them just pretend to be the right age (for the record, I do not partake in the latter ritual). I am talking about passing along some knowledge regarding Santa Claus. SPOILER ALERT: For those of you who wish to leave your childhood innocence intact, read no further.

In the event any youngen’s not privy to certain facts regarding St. Nick are still reading, I will continue this story in code. I will disguise the name of the mythical character. We’ll call him Sandy Claws.

Back when Ashton was too young to comprehend our conversations, Karina and I discussed whether we’d have our kids believe in Sandy Claws or not. (CRISIS NARROWLY AVERTED!! Ashton, who is supposed to be sleeping, just walked into the den where I am typing this! I threw myself at the computer as inconspicuously as possible. He is probably wondering if dad hugs the monitor every night after he goes to bed). I grew up in a, for lack of a better term, conservative household. We never believed in Santa, or even had a Christmas tree for that matter. My opinion on the whole situation was that it would be better to not have our kids believe in Sandy Claws. My fear is, upon learning the truth, they’d question everything I have taught them as true (the theory of gravity, Jesus, the superiority of the University of Arizona over Arizona State). Karina on the other hand grew up believing in Sandy Claws. In her view, this gave her many cherished memories I missed out on (leaving cookies out for Sandy, the thought of a large man entering my home as I slept, having my world crushed as I learned the truth about Sandy). In the true spirit of compromise, we taught our kids to believe in Sandy Claws.

Well, now are kids are to the age where they will soon learn the truth from their class chums. Actually, Ashton will probably learn on Google and then blab the truth to Lynsey. Karina and I would prefer to tell the kids the truth ourselves rather than having them find out we’ve been building a fabric of lies from their friends (or internet search engines). Ashton’s reaction will probably be something like: “ok, whatever”. We are a little more worried about Lynsey. I anticipate her reaction to involve three weeks of crying and a self-imposed hunger strike. As such, we are trying to approach the situation with tact.

We thought about telling the kids this season as all of the Christmas spirit is in full swing. But, the longer we wait, the poorer the timing and the greater chance of ruining their Christmas (“Hey kids, since it’s Christmas Eve and all, I wanted to share with you a little story. Once upon a time our society made up a character named Sandy Claws who actually doesn’t exist. That’s right, all these years your presents have come from your mom and I. You’re welcome. Good night.”).

So Karina and I figured we’d break the news sometime during the summer. That way they have several months to get over their grief. Additionally, their immediate reaction won’t be to blab to their friends the next day. But how to tell them? My idea is to gradually drop hints to the kids so they figure it out themselves. That way the giant hole in their heart from learning the truth is filled in partially by a sense of accomplishment. Some of my ideas are as follows:

“Say kids, have you ever thought about how Sandy Claws gets in our house? After all, we don’t have a chimney. Well, see you later!”

or

“Have you ever thought about why, with billions of kids around the world, Sandy Claws chooses to spend every December by the food court in the Tucson Mall? The Panda Express is good, but not that good. I’m just saying…”

At least we have several months to develop a plan regarding this. And, while all of you parents out there may be terribly upset at me for the thought of spoiling the big secret, I’m going to save a ton of money by throwing the Tooth Fairy into the conversation!

I’ve recently  joined the 21st century by purchasing a sweet electronic device. And I am not talking about an electric can opener. No, I got a “smart phone” as the young whippersnappers say nowadays. The iPhone 4 to be exact. This sweet little device has completely transformed my life*. (*by “my life” I mean the way I place and receive phone calls and periodically check email) Despite the many benefits of owning an iPhone, I was initially hesitant to take the step for many reasons:

Applications: for those of you who are new to the smart phone segment, applications are the programs you add to your phone to do things. I was naturally hesitant to jump on the application bandwagon as applications always had a negative connotation to me as they usually preceded job interviews. If there is one thing in life I look forward to less than a root canal, it is a job interview. Or maybe a John Mayer concert. Regardless, there are a myriad of applications to choose from, many making life easier by enhancing productivity. (societal interaction tip: Unless you want to be taunted incessantly by everyone born after 1990, you must refer to applications as “apps”) For example, there are apps that make your phone act as a level, apps that provide GPS navigation, and apps that help you save money at the store. Of course my favorite apps are ones that show me funny pictures or ones that make fart noises on time delay (perfect for pranking).

It is an Apple product: Despite the fact that my first meaningful experiences with a computer came on an Apple in 6th grade (I did actually use a prehistoric Tandy, but that was not so much of a computer as it was an apartment-sized calculator without the ability to graph) I have been resistant to joining the Apple bandwagon. Primarily because, given two identical products with the only difference being one is for a Mac and the other is a PC, the Mac will be the product requiring you to take out a second mortgage to purchase. I understand the premium in price is due to increased quality, reduced risk of viruses, and the lack of the blue screen of death common to PCs and blah blah blah. All I can say is that if I have to pay $48 for a new power charger/cord kit, that stupid kit better be made of solid gold. (societal interaction tip: do not , under any circumstance, disparage Apple in the company of anyone involved with music in any capacity lest you wish endure a geek verbal lashing)

Service: The final drawback is the fact that the iPhone is only (legally) available through AT&T. Complaints that I have come across in my minutes of research for this blog focus on AT&Ts coverage (or lack thereof) and the lack of an unlimited data plan (for those of you unfamiliar with what a data plan is or why you’d want it to be unlimited, google “difference between cellular data pla”…on second thought, if you don’t know what a data plan is, ask your grandkid). Having now had AT&T for two months, I can safely say I do not share the same concerns. The coverage I receive on the phone is just fine. You may want to put that in the context of the fact that my last carrier was T-Mobile. I am just happy to have a single conversation in fewer than four dropped-call related increments. And while the plan I have subscribed to is not too cheap, it is in line with similar plans at other carriers and I get a slight discount from work. Thus far I have not used more than a quarter of my allotted usage. I am sure that will change once I stumble across a website dedicated to pictures of animals in costumes. That would be hilarious! (on second thought, I think I have the next internet phenomenon! Do me a favor and email me any pictures you have of animals – the more gangly, like an alpaca for example, the better – in costumes. I uh…just want to look at them..yeah, that’s it!)

(Seriously, tell me you wouldn’t spend ALL DAY surfing pictures like this!)

Well, despite my apprehensions, I am completely sold. This little thing is amazing! Silly me, for years I relegated myself to using my phone to only do things like make phone calls. Who needs phone calls now that I have this sweet phone?! The possibilities are endless with this device. I can read virtually any book on the planet, identify songs I hear by simply letting the phone listen, and squish virtual bugs. I have the entire world at my fingertips! There is more information in the palm of my hand than anyone could have even imagined not 40 years ago. And yet I spend most of my time making myself look fat in pictures, looking for the nearest Starbucks, or checking Facebook.

I do plan to use my phone for more productive things in the near future. From what I hear, there are something like 70,000 apps available for the iPhone. The only problem is trying to find apps that are applicable to me. Every time I go to search for new apps, the only keywords that come to mind are “Batman” or “Airplane pictures”. So, if anyone has any good app tips, let me know. We can do an app idea exchange. (perfect idea for an app!!)

With all this time I have spent utilizing the apps on my phone, I really should check out it’s phone capabilities. I hear you can use other apps while on the phone and it’s got an easy to use interface. Yeah, I’ll do that as soon as I check my Facebook page.

After thousands* of requests for me to post my third and final installment of our Vegas trip I have made time to do so. (*I am rounding up slightly from zero) While it may have taken me about a month to post my day three synopsis, chronologically it occurred immediately after day two on our trip which has been synopsized previously.

After a second restful night of sleep, Karina and I awoke, packed, and headed out to find some breakfast. We decided to eat at the little crepe stand directly across from the Paris breakfast buffet we had eaten at the previous day. I enjoyed a delicious orange crepe with cinnamon and a dollop of sweet whipped cream. Karina had something else. We then sat down, luggage and all, to eat our breakfast and watch the breakfast buffet line across the walkway.  There is something incredibly satisfying about eating food while watching others stand in line 30-45 minutes to get theirs. That is probably not a good thought to have. I believe that feeling arose as a result of my, by nature of staying at the Paris hotel, way of acclimating to the general French feeling of self-importance and disdain. (I hope I didn’t offend any of my numerous French friend with that cheap shot…sorry Pierre)

Karina and I decided that we would head over to the Luxor to check out some interesting exhibits. The first one was called Bodies – The Exhibition. Beings we were in Vegas and with a name like that I assumed the exhibit as a little different then it turned out to be. (turns out I was thinking of “Peepshow”) The Bodies exhibit is actually a collection of human cadavers in various states of dissection to show the inner workings of the human body. Internet reviewers have used terms like “extraordinary”, “beautiful”, and “great” to describe the exhibit. I would use words more like “creepy”, “bizarre”, and “throw-up-a-little-in-my-mouth-inducing”. I will admit, I learned a lot about the human body and it was an incredibly effective way of seeing how some parts of the body work. However, I had a hard time getting over the fact that I was looking at dead people. In fact, the only thing that would have made it any creepier would be to find out that cadavers were actually taken without consent from Chinese prisoners. Actually, now that I think of it…one second…googling…well, it turns out some people (people like the New York Times) report some of the bodies are actually executed Chinese prisoners. Needless to say I do not plan to check out that exhibit again, even though it is currently showing in Tucson.

After spending an hour and a half viewing cadavers Karina and I needed an emotional pick-me-up. So we headed next door to the Titanic exhibit. This one was more up my alley. I am fascinated with the Titanic for various reasons. This exhibit had many items collected from the wreckage of the ship. There were personal items from passengers (including perfume that you could still smell), dishes from the galley, and even a large piece of the hull. It also had a block of ice that, according to literature in the exhibit, was very similar in temperature and composition to the very iceberg that sunk the Titanic. The block of ice was meant to be a sobering reminder that the frigid water Titanic foundered in was actually colder than ice. However, I was slightly distracted and found myself focusing more on how tragic it was that Vanilla Ice was able to sell eleven million records. Oh the horror!

After leaving the Luxor and it’s exhibitions of death we stopped by New York New York to eat some authentic New York Las Vegas pizza. The pizza was delicious (it tasted strangely similar to Sbarro) and we enjoyed listening to a singer in a nearby restaurant cover some popular hits.

We then headed back to the airport to return home to my mom and the kiddos. Even though it is nice to get away sometimes and get some Karina time, there is nothing better than coming home to the kids. Seeing their eyes light up and hearing their voices, full of love, ask “what did you get us” nearly made me forget I had spent the day looking at dead dudes.

The next morning Karina and I decided to start our day with one of our Vegas traditions: the Paris breakfast buffet. Years ago we heard it was fantastic and ever since we’ve had breakfast there at least once per trip. There are many staples of the French cuisine available: trout, salmon, eggs Benedict, etc. I was wild enough to try a crepe (it was delicious!) but kept to my old stand-bys, scrambled eggs and bacon, for the rest of the breakfast. I am “that guy” who goes to a Japanese restaurant and orders the chicken nuggets.

After breakfast, it was time for my big surprise. Karina had planned something weeks in advance for our trip but she refused to tell me what the plan was. We got into our rental car and headed out, me still in the dark as to our destination. Turns out, my wife is the best friggin’ wife in the world! She had surprised me with a chance to drive a Ferrari F430 for five laps on a 1.1 mile road course at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway!

The experience started with a tutorial on how to drive a $200,000 vehicle at ridiculous speeds (actually is started with a preventative restroom break but I didn’t want to interrupt the flow of the story…oops).  15 minutes later we were apparently all trained for the experience. I vaguely remember something about not turning while braking, keeping speed in the last corner before the straightaway, and not ruining their car.

All of the prospective drivers then board a Hummer H2 for two “discovery” laps around the course. I was glad I had made a preventative restroom run because, after two laps in a Hummer driven by a real race car driver, I most certainly would have discovered something in my pants. The intent of the discovery laps is to allow the drivers to become familiar with the course, all 9 turns. During the rare moments that I peeked through my shivering fingers I was able to see that there were a few turns to the left, and a few to the right.

Now completely prepared for the experience, I put on my helmet and got in the Ferrari. It was a beautiful red car, as evidenced by the picture below (that’s me in the driver’s seat).

One thing hit me when I got in the car though. It was the door pillar. The interior of the car is not huge by any stretch. Unfortunately my helmet was though. I could barely keep my head straight up without hitting the pillar. Any looking to the left resulted in a slight “conk” (thankfully it didn’t hurt because I had a helmet on). I adjusted my seat, greeted my copilot  (hi, please don’t let me die”), and slowly began my run on the track. I started slowly because I had to maneuver the car out of the garage. In doing this I noticed an interesting phenomena. The more expensive the car, the bigger it feels relative to objects that can destroy it. I felt like I was driving the Titanic until we got outside.

After successfully navigating the garage exit, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was time to race! Over the course of the five laps I was able to get the car up to 110 mph on the straightaway that I estimate was about a quarter mile. That was a blast. Not so much of a blast was being passed several times by other drivers who apparently didn’t realize they were careening around in items that cost as much as a good sized house. I really wanted to go fast but heading into the corners all I heard were visions of my dad from when I was sixteen: “slow down for the turn, this isn’t a race you know”. In fact, I thought I WAS going fast, until Karina burst my bubble by showing me the video of my run. I was convinced it was in slow motion. Alas, it was not. I merely drive like a granny (no offense grandma). I like to think I just got my money’s worth more than the other guys who wasted the experience by going fast. While it kills my pride to show this, video of my run is below. I am the guy who looks like a baseball team’s mascot due to the size of the helmet in proportion to my body (with the exception of the guns for course).

After my run, Karina got an awesome experience herself. She got a ride in a Corvette Z06 driven by a real Hollywood stuntman. His name was Roman something-or-other and he drove the Mini Cooper in the Bourne Identity. He took her around the track for two laps, drifting all the way. Those of you unfamiliar with “drifting” may think of a feather floating on the breeze. This “drifting” is not as graceful and more incredibly violent. It is similar to riding the Scrambler at a Carnival, only  if the ride was supercharged. They got up to about 140 mph in the straightaway. The video below shows a short portion of the ride Roman gave another person. In relation to Karina’s ride, mine was a leisurely afternoon joyride.

On the way back from the racetrack we stopped at the Gold and Silver Pawn Shop. This is the store made famous in the show “Pawn Stars” on the History Channel. While none of the personalities on the show were there (they apparently only work weekdays…primadonnas)  we did see many of the items featured on the show, such as a bowling ball cannon, western-style dummies (see picture), and the painting of Jim Morrison. I thought it would be cool to buy something from the shop, but everything was way overpriced. Their used Blu-Rays were $15! I can go on Amazon.com and buy brand-new Blu-Rays such as that John Wayne classic “The Searchers” or the “French Connection” for less than that!

One of our requirements for the trip was for us to see a real Vegas show. We saw the Blue Man Group years ago and loved it. Our only criteria were the show could not have any nudity or profanity (this narrowed the field down to Donny & Marie, a ventriloquist, a timesharing presentation, or La Reve). Beings we were looking for tickets for that night, we were left with one choice: La Reve at the Wynn. As the show is at the Wynn, you may think it would be overpriced. But you are wrong. It was WAY overpriced. For the price we paid for those tickets, we could have watched 8 movies at the local cinema, bought a huge popcorn and soda, and used the valet parking. I figured we paid about a dollar and a half per minute of entertainment. At that rate I could have hired J-Lo for a private concert.

“La Reve” is French for “The Reve” which is Frenglish for “The Dream”. It is a Cirque-du-soleil type of show, in that involved water and acrobatics. Only this one is unique (said the lady selling us the tickets) in that it has a plot. I was lost from the very beginning where we were told by a video-projected baby in utero not to use flash photography. You read that correctly. From what I gathered, it was your typical love story. Boy meets girl, boy asks girl to marry him, girl goes to sleep on a bench, girl dreams about people doing high dives, the devil does some menacing ballet, girl engages with a break-dance off with the devil’s wife, girl wakes up, girl says yes to boy, and they are both lifted happily into the sky on a floating bed made of super-sized flowers.

Perhaps I am just not cultured enough to understand something like this, but I was lost. I like my love stories to be free of metaphors like Beauty and the Beast. The talking candlestick was just that: a talking candlestick. I didn’t have to pay a dollar and a half per minute to figure out what part of Beauty’s subconscious he was and how he kept the candles in his candelabra hands even when they turned upside down.

As you can tell, I would have much rather watched Carrot Top than the show we saw. Karina loved it on the other hand. Her favorite part was when two guys did some crazy acrobatic routine with each other. I think it had less to do with their amazing physical prowess as it had to do with the fact that their clothes were practically painted on. I know the male performers wear spandex pants (and nothing else) because of all of the physical activity, but really, sweatpants wouldn’t be just as flexible?!

The show got out at 11, which was past our bedtime, so we braved the crowds on the street and headed back to our hotel. On our way we stopped at another Vegas staple for dinner: Panda Express. In line, Karina noticed a plate with a sign indicating it was for “Wasted Toothpick”. Karina remarked that phrase reminded her of Lindsay Lohan for some reason. Ba-zing! Nicely done wife!

Day three’s blog (not nearly as long…I promise) will be posted shortly. You’ll learn about when we touched a real kidney. Try not succumbing to that teaser! Actually, please don’t try. Read the blog instead.

Karina and I were given an opportunity recently to take a little weekend Vegas getaway trip together. My mother graciously watched the kids for us (thanks ma!) and we flew out on a Friday afternoon.

Vegas is the hotel room capital of the world so one can find lodging of any quality and price. I personally could sleep on a frozen bed of nails and am therefore quite content in your standard Motel 6. My wife however has slightly more discriminating tastes. She prefers her room with fewer mystery stains on the bed and more amenities like coffee machines. So, we “compromised” and got a room at the Paris hotel. For those of you who have never been to this hotel and casino, it is themed after it’s famous French city namesake. I have never actually been to the “real” Paris, but I think the hotel’s theme folks have done a fantastic job capturing the city’s aura by cleverly recreating the Eiffel Tower, streetside cafes, cobblestone streets, and the apparent abundance of Wheel of Fortune Quarter slot machines.

Upon arrival in Vegas we checked into our room and were pleasantly surprised by the view. Take a gander at the picture showing the view from our room…

We were directly across from the Bellagio and it’s famous water show (in action in the photograph above). One thing that surprises me is how loud the water show is. The music accompanying the show is not quiet, but each time the water sprays it sounds like a small explosion (probably because water cannons are used). So every half hour it felt like we were thrust directly in the middle of the Revolutionary War. After scouting out the room, we headed out to find food.

Beings it was our first night in Vegas and we love to sample the exotic cuisines indigenous to the areas we travel, we had dinner at PF Chang’s. The food was fabulous and the company even better. And as an added bonus, Karina and I even spotted some folks we recognized. I saw Hank Azaria (the Blue Raja on Mystery Men as well as the voice of several Simpson’s characters) and Karina saw a friend she thought was dead. I was excited to see a barely-made-the-B-List celebrity this soon in our vacation. At this rate, I thought, I’ll probably run into Jaleel White, Antonio Sabato Jr., AND Tiffany (Amber)Thiessen before we head home! As I was this close to Hollywood royalty, I creepily stared at Hank over Karina’s shoulder for the remainder of the dinner. I did not however get the guts to approach Hank and ask for an autograph.

Our bellies full of Americanized Chinese food, we strolled around some of the stores at the Planet Hollywood hotel. While Karina doesn’t mind shopping, thankfully she is not into high fashion as it appears the “high” part refers to the pricing. Some of the products were so expensive that some boutiques (they are too high class to be called a store) entire sale able inventory consisted of 18 purses! I did not venture in to check the prices as I clearly was not in the store’s intended demographic (I had forgotten to wear my tuxedo and diamond encrusted cuff links). My assumption is each purse probably cost approximately the equivalent of East Timor’s gross domestic product (or the career earnings of Antonio Sabato Jr.). Looking to find a store more within our price range, we headed to Walgreen’s to pick up a few necessities. I love how even Walgreen’s gets into the spirit of Vegas with a bright neon sign. They also had a decent selection of reasonably priced purses…take that Donna Karan!

By this point the time was now 10 o’ clock or so. Those of you who have been to Vegas before know that this is the point everyone puts on their fancy club attire and heads out in the street to use excessive profanities. This is also the time numerous gentlemen kindly wave brochures in your face advertising selfless ladies who apparently wish to provide company to lonely men. As I already had the company of a lovely lady, I ignored the men (approximately 7% of which I estimate to be legal citizens) and we headed back to our hotel for the night. Yes, I did say we hit the hay between 10 and 11. We have kids so part of our excitement on the trip was the promise of uninterrupted sleep. Of course with the Bellagio across the way, my dreams revolved around things like battles with bayonets. How relaxing!

Day 2 will be posted shortly. You’ll read about the surprise Karina got me (with video!) as well as my review of an authentic Vegas show.

While I consider myself fairly knowledgeable about pop culture (Kirstie Alley’s weight is currently down and Spencer and Heidi are unfortunately separating…who saw that one coming?!) there are a few fads that I have been late to jump on: the cellular phone and Justin Bieber being two notable examples. Well, tonight marks the night that I engage myself in another fad. Yes, I am talking about the fad involving dance-y songs sung by a colorfully dressed character that vaguely resembles a human. No, however, I am not talking about Lady Gaga. I am talking about a children’s television show called Yo Gabba Gabba.

Most of you parents are probably intimately familiar with the show. It features several characters (who make a cameo in a Kia commercial you may have seen and thought “what the…?!”) like a green hairy beast with no skeletal system in his arms and a one-eyed warty carrot thing. While your first impression may revolve around how bizarre it is, the show appears to actually be developed with the parent in mind.

I had never watched the show in any detail except for cameos by Andy Samberg and Jack Black (already a good sign) that Karina asked me to watch. Tonight however, we were on the way home from my mom’s and I got to listen to an entire Yo Gabba Gabba soundtrack. (For those of you without kids, yes, this is one thing to prepare yourself for…no more Snoop Dogg, Tupac, or Barry Manilow in the car, it’s The Wiggles and Barney)

One thing struck me immediately about the songs: their practicality. While other children’s TV Show/music super groups like the Wiggles teach in great detail such things as how to make a good fruit salad, that’s not very useful to me. Yo Gaba Gabba, on the other hand has many a song that teaches lessons I am trying to impart to my own children: like complaining won’t get you what you want, trying new food is good, and don’t ask someone to pull your finger until you are locked and loaded. (actually Yo Gabba Gabba hasn’t made a song about the last one…yet)

As much as my kids watch the show, I would hope to see more effect on their behavior from the lesson-packed songs. Yet, in a comparison between pre-show viewing behavior to post-show behavior, I have seen no marked improvement in the complaining or new food trying areas (the kids don’t even want to try pizza chicken pasta. For the love of Pete, it’s pizza with pasta instead of the bread!). I was wondering why the songs weren’t hitting home and then I began to think of how much music I listen to and how little of it I actually take to heart…or even understand. For example, I love the song Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen. However, I have no idea what the words in the title even mean. Yet that does not prevent me from singing along at the top of my lungs to such lyrics as “Let me go! Ish Meal Lock, No I will not let you go”. Anyone have any idea what that means? Is an Ish Meal Lock required for a Bohemian to Rhapsod or something?

Regardless, I can only hope that my kids will start taking to heart the lyrics from the song. And, if not, perhaps the Yo Gabba Gabba writers can add some proverbial meat to their lyrics. One song goes “Try it! You will like it!” I suggest a song entitled “Eat your ding-danged food or I will throw away every ounce of sugar in this house! Don’t test me or you will rue the day…RUE THE DAY I TELL YOU!”

I’ve spent every year of my life living in or around Tucson. As such, I consider myself somewhat of a local expert. For example, looking for a good burger? I know exactly where the best local In-N-Out is. Pizza more your thing? I am a veritable catalog of Pizza Hut locations. When it comes to Mexican food however, there is one local eatery that stands cabeza y hombres above the rest. That restaurant is El Guero Canelo (translation: The cinnamon-colored blonde…it is named after how friends apparently refer to the owner…apparently he has very literal friends). And there is one entrée’ that El Guero Canelo (hereafter referred to as EGC or THE EGC) is known for the sonoran hot dog.

An El Guero Canelo sonoran dog tastes like what I imagine a rainbow tastes like…except less gritty. The hot dog is covered in a myriad of toppings that one wouldn’t think should be paired with a hot dog. Well, let me suggest you stop thinking with your brain. Let your taste buds do the thinking for a change. There are tomatoes, onions, beans, jalapeño salsa, mayonnaise and mustard. And all of those condiments lovingly blanket a hot dog that is warmly embraced by several strips of bacon (And don’t let me start on the sweet, warm, melt-in-your mouth bun!). I am not going to lie, it took me several trips before I finally tried the sonoran dog. There are very few things I regret in my life (the incident with the leafblower and the armadillo being one), however I truly regret each and every time I visited EGC without buying a sonoran dog (I am sorry Mr. Canelo, and even moreso I am sorry own stomach). In a word, they are amazingly fantastic!

While the EGC sonorant dog is nearly impossible to beat in a taste test (unless the other combatant is a slice of Peter Piper Pizza…that fight would end in a draw my friend) it is not the only food item well worth the money at EGC. The Carne Asada burrito also rates an 11 on a taste scale to 10. In fact, this was the first item I ever tried at EGC. A (huge) warm, flour tortilla is packed with the best carne asada meat you have ever tasted (assuming you have tried the exact same variety of carne asada meats that I have tried over the course of my life). Carne Asada meat is tender cubes of beef from the Asada region of the cow. The carna asada is joined in the sleeping bag of flour by several other bedmates (for the record, the food’s relationship is purely platonic…and awesome!). There are beans, cabbage, and some sort of white cheese. I like to top off the burrito with a squirt of lime and a coating of EGC’s guacamole sauce. As you can imagine, the ingredients in the burrito combine to react in your intestine with resulting effects similar to swallowing a stick of dynamite. Montezuma does indeed get his proverbial revenge. Take a tip from me, it is totally worth it! (Here is another tip: within 3 hours of eating EGC, grab a book and strap yourself in for a while…sorry if that brazen statement offended anyone, a magazine would work too).

EGC has two convenient locations (if you are either in central or south Tucson). The original location on 12^th and Nebraska gives the patron the feeling they are eating at a quaint outdoor taco stand in Mexcio. The restaurant is conveniently located just north of the house with hundreds of mattresses in the yard. Surrounding businesses kindly enhance EGC’s ambience by ensuring all of their text is in Spanish. Be prepared to wait in line if there is a lunch rush. Once you order however, the food is turned out extremely fast (or, muy rapido). This location may not be for everyone though. I would suggest you ordering “to go” if you are not a fan of flies/bees or if your preferred seating accommodations include a back rest.

The newest location is at Grant and Oracle. This location is fully enclosed and climate controlled. In my humble (but never wrong) opinion, the food at this location is slightly inferior to its southern cousin. For example, the guacamole sauce at the Grant location has a little too much guac and not enough mole. The food here still beats any other restaurant in town hands down (I would even say hands up for that matter).

If you haven’t already tried EGC, give it a whirl. Keep in mind, the restaurant does not serve many Mexican staples (which is ok with me…I always found the staples too pointy and metallic…Hey Yo!). You won’t find any enchiladas, chimichangas, or Nachos Bel Grande. However, there is enough variety to make the trip worthwhile. If you ever feel like heading to EGC and trying something new, give me a call!