Developing Trend

Evidently, about two weeks before each spring break of my law school career, I am going to fall ill to some mildly potent virus. This time, it set in over the weekend, and is now in full swing. My head is throbbing from sinus pressure, my nose is running, and the use of my throat causes massive discomfort. Not cool.

Dispossessed

Tonight, while I was doing the dishes, the following startling realization occurred to me: my life is significantly impaired by the absence of a garbage disposal in our sink. But when you've never had to live without one, the garbarge disposal doesn't seem all that valuable. If you're anything like me, you've been taking that at-times noisy but mostly unseen and unheard device for granted. However, if your disposal were spirited away in the middle of the night, you'd be amazed at the impact on your life, let me tell you.

The first problem with not having a disposal is that, since you can no longer dump any food at all down the drain, you'll need to purchase one of those infernal screen drainplugs to catch any falling detritus. The worst aspect of the screen is that food inevitably piles up in a unsightly mess, and you can never fully clean the damn thing. Despite your best efforts, there is always a noodle or two and perhaps a piece of vegatable matter that won't release its grasp of the drainplug. Unless you have an inventory of unused drainplugs or clean it with pliers, this is something you'll have to live with, like it or not.

Second, you'll find that breaking the habit of behaving as if you have a disposal is hard, if not impossible. I still to this day find myself tossing food into the sink as if the unwanted pieces had somewhere to go. They don't. They pile up, hidden amongst the dishes stacked in the sink, until they clog the screen, causing a situation which requires that you dip your arm into the filthy water to remove the offending matter, thus clearing the way for waterflow. No matter how good whatever you cooked or are cooking will taste and regardless of the quality of the ingredients, this is not a pleasant experience by any measure.

Third, not having a disposal makes for a lot more garbage -- garbarge that, because its contents consist of soon-to-be-rotting organic matter, you must usually take out immediately. Admittedly, this only requires walking down the hall for me, but sometimes that's the last thing I want to do after cooking a meal sans disposal.

There is one final reason why I miss the disposal, and this may very well be a reason unique to me. In the past, when I was making something involving fresh herbs, say basil, mint, or cilantro, I could take some of the leftovers, toss them in the disposal, hit the switch, and be treated to the pungent scent of whatever herb I'd used. Sometimes, I'd even throw in a half of a lemon to spread lemon scent throughout the kitchen. But no longer. Now, to get the same effect or at least something similar, I have to rely on aerosol sprays containing "lemony scent" or "fresh herbal fragrance." And that is not something I'm going to do.

At least I now know the first question I'll ask when I'm purchasing a house: does it have a garbage disposal?

Ridiculously Cold

To the Heart of Darkness

About a year ago at this time, I purchased a ticket to Belize, a small country in Central America famous for, among other things, the second largest coral reef in the world, world-class tarpon and permit fishing, grand Mayan temples and their attendant rich history, and lush rainforests inhabited by jaguars, howler monkeys, and toucans. For someone like me who is a strong proponent of safe-and-sound world travel, Belize had the added bonus of relative stability in its government.

Not this year. Just yesterday I booked a flight to Colombia -- not uptown Columbia, but Colombia with an "o" -- where kidnapping insurance is commonplace, where armored cars ferry children to and from school, where a bona fide war on drugs is being waged daily. In my understanding, armed guerillas roam the streets freely, alternatively sending out extortion letters and holding up hapless American tourists. To be sure, this ain't no Caye Caulker.

Why would I choose to go to such a place when there are plenty of tourist-friendly desitnations around the world that would help me part ways with my leftover loan money without exposing me to potential danger? All blame for this decision can be put squarely on the shoulders of my friend Dan, who has been in Colombia for the last 6 months or so and, prior to his newest mini-vacation from the real world, lived in South America for a number of years following college graduation. Far away from home but unwilling to do the prudent thing and return, he has cajoled, pleaded, and even begged for visitors.

It took some time, but his repeated entreaties -- and legally binding promises that Colombia "has changed" -- finally persuaded me to acquiesce. Fortunately, I'll be accompanied in this folly by another friend, Josh. Together, I believe our formidable legal educations and general street savvy should be enough to overcome the rash decision-making and general obliviousness that Dan is prone to. If nothing else, I'm almost certain the two of us can run faster than a guy whose occupation involves sitting at the computer all day.

Blizzard of 2006

Right outside my building.










3rd Street looking east towards Broadway.









On St. Marks near the Kmart. In this photo, I masterfully missed the iconic St. Marks cube sculpture, which would have made for a much better image. You can see the edge of it on the left side of the picture.

After-party

So, I'm going to the Trovata after-party tonight in a few hours. Not really sure what to expect there. My college friend and fellow fraternity brother, Joe, who I've been hanging out with the last two nights, mentioned something about Scarlett Johnansen, Lindsay Lohan, and some other celebrities being there. If I do happen to meet any of them, I am going to stick with what has worked in the past (i.e., at the poker room in the Bellagio with Mena Suvari, now divorced) and I will not acknowledge their respective bodies of work. It's not as if they will be impressed by law school, so why should I worship them right off the bat?

What's more likely than meeting famous people is that I will drink enough that I have a hard time getting to class tomorrow. Regardless, it should be fun. And, thankfully, it's being held at a place I'm familiar with -- Happy Ending -- so when I get kicked out for not being fashionable enough, I'll know the way home.

A Random Sampling of My Thoughts

I wish I could breakdance. And not just competently, but well. After watching a number of online videos of Korean breakdancers (apparently, they are the best in the world), I've decided that it would be pretty damn cool to be one of them. Not that I'd give up my current life, of course. It's just that of all the possible professions out there, racecar driver and professional breakdancer appeal to me above most others.

$3.50 for iced tea without refills is as close to assaulting the customer as a restaurant can get. If restaurant week taught me anything, it's that it is borderline criminal to charge $25-30 for a lunch entree and at the same time offer iced tea without free refills. I guess I could understand if the beverage were served in pitchers, but it's not -- most of the iced tea glasses I was served over the last two weeks were puny, amounting, on average, to what I'd estimate as not more than 10 ounces. That's not even a soda can's worth.