Archived MySpace blog
Category: Movies, TV, Celebrities
I may complain about it, but my job does have its unique perks. One of which is that nothing goes on in this city without the cops knowing, and everything they know gets passed on to me.
So this month's interesting new haven news is that filmmaker Vadim Perelman has decided to film his latest work on the streets of the fair Elm City. Based on the prop ambulance, the upper Chapel Street area around Yale is actually supposed to represent the Big Apple for this film, but nonetheless, principal photography is occurring a couple blocks from my office.
So today we get the word, that they're filming a principal scene out in front of the Union League Café. So off we go. It's lunch time, why not watch the making of a film. Why not see if we can meet Uma Thurman.
So, it's 1:05, and we're walking up to the corner of Chapel and Temple, and bullshitting with a couple cops, when a trailer door opens, and out walks the statuesque Uma Thurman -- much prettier than I'd formerly believed when viewed in person, and she proceeds to walk by the 25 or so of us on the corner, pause and say hello, and stroll up to the set on the next block.
Not close enough, or enough time for autographs, but close enough for a very nice, very friendly, brush with stardom.
So 25 feet up the road, dollied steadi-cam, 1000 candlepower floods, a big lighting reflector on a crane, a tent full of directors of photography, light and sound guys, Ms. Thurman's stunt double (all dressed), and somewhere Vadim Perelman -- if I knew what he looked like I might have seen him.
The assembled group of cranky production assistants are trying to keep the 100 or so people congregated out of the way of filming, while my boss, looking like over-dress paparazzi, is snapping pictures with his telephoto lens. All this while a 6 second shot commences 5 times in a row: Diana (Thurman) walks diagonally across Chapel, turns, and looks into the camera with horror. The next scene will be Uma's double being run over by a car, but lunch wasn't long enough to stay for them to set up that shoot.
Sorry, I hope I didn't spoil the movie with that tidbit of info there, but by 2007 when In Bloom opens, you'll likely have forgotten this little blog.
Hopefully in a couple days, I can update with some of the pictures my boss took. The previews looked really good.
Showing posts with label New Haven. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Haven. Show all posts
19 September 2006
21 August 2006
Things to Do in Connecticut When You're Doing Nothing
Archived MySpace blog
Category: Blogging
By now everyone has read the tales of trips to Montréal, Nine Inch Nails Concerts, Volkswagen Festivals in New Jersey, and the like. Now, I think it's only fair to show the other side. This is...
Down Time
This is the tale of a weekend with no plans. My eye is finally pretty much back to normal. There are a few weekends left in Summer. The weather is fine. And... there are no plans anywhere.
Friday night I enjoyed a couple at Richter's while wishing a co-worker good luck as he moved on to greener pastures in the Stamford office. Actually, anywhere in Connecticut is greener pastures than here when you're talking about the courts. After a short stay at said Happy Hour, back home and the promise of the new Indiana Jones box set -- "You call him 'Dr. Jones', doll"
The rest of Friday night was spent in. Molly and I watched Raiders of the Lost Ark, accompanied by Jersey Mike's subs, and a bit more drink. Would have been quite the relaxing night had Molly's back not completely given out... but Tiger Balm and a hot towel massage soothed things to a sleepable state, and the night proved relaxing after all.
Saturday morning came, and the call of a friend in need pointed our day mid-state. Southington around 3:00 left us the first half of the day open, and presented two wonderful opportunities: Momentum Tuning, and Tim Horton's.
So we drive up to Meriden, to the closest Tim Horton's in the state, and one exit North of Momentum Tuning, to a little area we have since dubbed Little Toronto. Tim' Horton's Donuts on one side of East Main, Toronto Dominion Bank on the other, it's like a little slice of Canada in the middle of Meriden. We sit on the curb, enjoying our coffees, me with a tasty cinnamon roll, and Molly, a donut, I believe.
Leaving Tim's, coffees in hand, and rolling one exit South on the Wilbur Cross, we approach Momentum Tuning, an automotive shop specializing in the performance Volkswagen market. What a wonderful little niche market! However, it would seem that the true location of said shop is guarded in Volkswagen enthusiast secrecy. Up and down North Plains Industrial Rd we drive, looking for this place. A call to 411, and we discover... closed. Shortly after hanging up, we do discover the hidden lair of the gurus of Volkswagen tuning, and confirm that the shop does not have weekend hours. But for a long day on Thursday, and the fact that I only work until 3:30 on Mondays, I had feared I may never see the inside of this most hallowed shrine of Volkswagen Performance. Alas, it is now only 1:30, and We are not to meet Lonnie until 3 or 4.
US 5 through Wallingford is about the same as any main drag through any Northeast town... fast food, car dealerships, and mid-priced retail shopping. We found ourselves in Big Lots. What a great place. Wonders of the world... literally... have you ever seen Indian cuisine packaged for sale in South America? I thought not. An Axe deodorant gift set garnered me my second "Evil Rubber Ducky", and I received a 2nd, 3rd, and 4th phone call from the cretins trying to sell me drugs illegally from some 3rd World country. "Can I ask you what medications you're on?" The calls finally ceased when Molly tells them "Well, I think it's kind of intrusive for you to ask me that. I'm on the AZT and I have herpes." The phone calls ceased, but oddly no one in Big Lots even batted an eye.
A quick phone call to Lonnie revealed that 3 or 4 had now become 5, and so our destination became the Meriden Square Mall, but on the way through, we decided to stop in at the porn store. Yeah, I said it. Problem... the porn store was closed for 5 while the employee took a break. Next door for 2 failed scratch tickets, and... oddly... a porn mag, then back to the porn store. Surprisingly, we did better in the market next door, and we left the store empty handed.
Since Westfield bought all the malls in Connecticut it seems, effectively the Meriden Square Mall is the same as any other mall in this state, only laid out differently. A bathroom break, 2 gumballs, and a pair of jeans for Molly later, it's time to head to Lonnie's. There, we are greeted with the sight of the truck I should have been moving with, a van with a 12' box on the back. Tiny, efficient, appropriate for a small apartment move. (Mine was 53' long.) We emptied it in 30 minutes.
I've missed Arby's living in Branford, and since Southington has one, that is where we had our evening meal. It was uneventful on its own, although the site of Molly and I laughing and joking and having a good time in the food line seemed to upset the locals. The gene pool is little more than a puddle out there it seems.
The drive home brought us by Ocean State Job Lot, and a clothing store called pay/half. Cheap shopping seemed to be the mode of the day. Pay/half was a bust, but at Job Lot, Molly happened upon a 1:16 scale model of the Volkswagen W12 Nardo. No, no one actually knows what that car is... I'll have to blog it later. Saturday ended with a DVD's on the couch... no, I said we didn't buy anything at the porn store... The Poseidon Adventure. Irvin Allen's classic, and the perfect follow-up to the week before's Towering Inferno. Stonebridge was ruled out, and we ended the day in a lazy fashion.
Sunday arrived as it usually does, and the late morning suggested coffee. Off we went to Dunkin' Donuts. Walked in, and got in line, until... Molly realized that it was a planless Sunday, and our relaxing coffee pause was better served at Common Grounds, where not only is the coffee better, but one can sit at a table on the sidewalk, and enjoy a cigarette as well. Before leaving, however, Molly managed to find two aging nerds in Dunkin' Donuts, and through them join the Branford Chess Club.
In order to have a coffee and cigarette, we must first stop for cigarettes. Enter Branford Book & Card. There's a line, so I decided to explore the international news section while waiting. Somehow we end up with 2 packs of Marb Lights, and another porn mag.
Coffees, smokes, a croissant, and a raspberry crumb cake, reading porn in downtown Branford. What does this suggest? Of course. A trip to Old Glory.
Old Glory is a head shop. There are 5 or six of them in the state, and I believe more in other states. No, neither Molly nor I partake in the stickiest of the icky, but Old Glory is great place to pick up t-shirts, wallets, and our personal goal, belt buckles.
A stoned clerk helped us acquire a Metallica "Whiskey in the Jar" tee, a Sex Pistols "God Save the Queen" tee, and a belt buckle, limited edition made in 1979, of a small aircraft gauge pod. It's sweet. If you don't understand what it is from that description, don't feel bad, neither did Eddie.
Yes, Eddie. Recently back from parts unknown... the Midwest... Eddie had invited us to lunch. Archie Moore's. Fairly New Haven famous. Good food, drink; I had a Swithwick's and something called the "Pulled Pig" sandwich. Pork barbecue is always good by me. The promise of karaoke later turns out to be a pass, but that's fine by everyone involved, and the late afternoon rolls off into an evening defined by Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.
I think that's it. Just a weekend off, nothing much to do, no plans to speak of. Just a little down time.
Category: Blogging
By now everyone has read the tales of trips to Montréal, Nine Inch Nails Concerts, Volkswagen Festivals in New Jersey, and the like. Now, I think it's only fair to show the other side. This is...
Down Time
This is the tale of a weekend with no plans. My eye is finally pretty much back to normal. There are a few weekends left in Summer. The weather is fine. And... there are no plans anywhere.
Friday night I enjoyed a couple at Richter's while wishing a co-worker good luck as he moved on to greener pastures in the Stamford office. Actually, anywhere in Connecticut is greener pastures than here when you're talking about the courts. After a short stay at said Happy Hour, back home and the promise of the new Indiana Jones box set -- "You call him 'Dr. Jones', doll"
The rest of Friday night was spent in. Molly and I watched Raiders of the Lost Ark, accompanied by Jersey Mike's subs, and a bit more drink. Would have been quite the relaxing night had Molly's back not completely given out... but Tiger Balm and a hot towel massage soothed things to a sleepable state, and the night proved relaxing after all.
Saturday morning came, and the call of a friend in need pointed our day mid-state. Southington around 3:00 left us the first half of the day open, and presented two wonderful opportunities: Momentum Tuning, and Tim Horton's.
So we drive up to Meriden, to the closest Tim Horton's in the state, and one exit North of Momentum Tuning, to a little area we have since dubbed Little Toronto. Tim' Horton's Donuts on one side of East Main, Toronto Dominion Bank on the other, it's like a little slice of Canada in the middle of Meriden. We sit on the curb, enjoying our coffees, me with a tasty cinnamon roll, and Molly, a donut, I believe.
Leaving Tim's, coffees in hand, and rolling one exit South on the Wilbur Cross, we approach Momentum Tuning, an automotive shop specializing in the performance Volkswagen market. What a wonderful little niche market! However, it would seem that the true location of said shop is guarded in Volkswagen enthusiast secrecy. Up and down North Plains Industrial Rd we drive, looking for this place. A call to 411, and we discover... closed. Shortly after hanging up, we do discover the hidden lair of the gurus of Volkswagen tuning, and confirm that the shop does not have weekend hours. But for a long day on Thursday, and the fact that I only work until 3:30 on Mondays, I had feared I may never see the inside of this most hallowed shrine of Volkswagen Performance. Alas, it is now only 1:30, and We are not to meet Lonnie until 3 or 4.
US 5 through Wallingford is about the same as any main drag through any Northeast town... fast food, car dealerships, and mid-priced retail shopping. We found ourselves in Big Lots. What a great place. Wonders of the world... literally... have you ever seen Indian cuisine packaged for sale in South America? I thought not. An Axe deodorant gift set garnered me my second "Evil Rubber Ducky", and I received a 2nd, 3rd, and 4th phone call from the cretins trying to sell me drugs illegally from some 3rd World country. "Can I ask you what medications you're on?" The calls finally ceased when Molly tells them "Well, I think it's kind of intrusive for you to ask me that. I'm on the AZT and I have herpes." The phone calls ceased, but oddly no one in Big Lots even batted an eye.
A quick phone call to Lonnie revealed that 3 or 4 had now become 5, and so our destination became the Meriden Square Mall, but on the way through, we decided to stop in at the porn store. Yeah, I said it. Problem... the porn store was closed for 5 while the employee took a break. Next door for 2 failed scratch tickets, and... oddly... a porn mag, then back to the porn store. Surprisingly, we did better in the market next door, and we left the store empty handed.
Since Westfield bought all the malls in Connecticut it seems, effectively the Meriden Square Mall is the same as any other mall in this state, only laid out differently. A bathroom break, 2 gumballs, and a pair of jeans for Molly later, it's time to head to Lonnie's. There, we are greeted with the sight of the truck I should have been moving with, a van with a 12' box on the back. Tiny, efficient, appropriate for a small apartment move. (Mine was 53' long.) We emptied it in 30 minutes.
I've missed Arby's living in Branford, and since Southington has one, that is where we had our evening meal. It was uneventful on its own, although the site of Molly and I laughing and joking and having a good time in the food line seemed to upset the locals. The gene pool is little more than a puddle out there it seems.
The drive home brought us by Ocean State Job Lot, and a clothing store called pay/half. Cheap shopping seemed to be the mode of the day. Pay/half was a bust, but at Job Lot, Molly happened upon a 1:16 scale model of the Volkswagen W12 Nardo. No, no one actually knows what that car is... I'll have to blog it later. Saturday ended with a DVD's on the couch... no, I said we didn't buy anything at the porn store... The Poseidon Adventure. Irvin Allen's classic, and the perfect follow-up to the week before's Towering Inferno. Stonebridge was ruled out, and we ended the day in a lazy fashion.
Sunday arrived as it usually does, and the late morning suggested coffee. Off we went to Dunkin' Donuts. Walked in, and got in line, until... Molly realized that it was a planless Sunday, and our relaxing coffee pause was better served at Common Grounds, where not only is the coffee better, but one can sit at a table on the sidewalk, and enjoy a cigarette as well. Before leaving, however, Molly managed to find two aging nerds in Dunkin' Donuts, and through them join the Branford Chess Club.
In order to have a coffee and cigarette, we must first stop for cigarettes. Enter Branford Book & Card. There's a line, so I decided to explore the international news section while waiting. Somehow we end up with 2 packs of Marb Lights, and another porn mag.
Coffees, smokes, a croissant, and a raspberry crumb cake, reading porn in downtown Branford. What does this suggest? Of course. A trip to Old Glory.
Old Glory is a head shop. There are 5 or six of them in the state, and I believe more in other states. No, neither Molly nor I partake in the stickiest of the icky, but Old Glory is great place to pick up t-shirts, wallets, and our personal goal, belt buckles.
A stoned clerk helped us acquire a Metallica "Whiskey in the Jar" tee, a Sex Pistols "God Save the Queen" tee, and a belt buckle, limited edition made in 1979, of a small aircraft gauge pod. It's sweet. If you don't understand what it is from that description, don't feel bad, neither did Eddie.
Yes, Eddie. Recently back from parts unknown... the Midwest... Eddie had invited us to lunch. Archie Moore's. Fairly New Haven famous. Good food, drink; I had a Swithwick's and something called the "Pulled Pig" sandwich. Pork barbecue is always good by me. The promise of karaoke later turns out to be a pass, but that's fine by everyone involved, and the late afternoon rolls off into an evening defined by Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.
I think that's it. Just a weekend off, nothing much to do, no plans to speak of. Just a little down time.
02 August 2006
An observation
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: amused
Category: Blogging
Another of those things you can only see at the Court...
Outfit for the day: Short shorts, sleeveless t-shirt, Adidas shell-toes, and one black sock.
Why one black sock? Because in her infinite genius, our friend thought that a black sock was the best way to obscure the house-arrest electronic monitoring ankle bracelet.
Obviously, it doesn't. Now not only is it obvious to everyone that she's on house arrest, but she looks like a fashion victim, too. Then again, short-shorts?!? Yeah, she's probably quite the fashion victim when she's not under house arrest.
Such is my observation for the day.
Current mood: amused
Category: Blogging
Another of those things you can only see at the Court...
Outfit for the day: Short shorts, sleeveless t-shirt, Adidas shell-toes, and one black sock.
Why one black sock? Because in her infinite genius, our friend thought that a black sock was the best way to obscure the house-arrest electronic monitoring ankle bracelet.
Obviously, it doesn't. Now not only is it obvious to everyone that she's on house arrest, but she looks like a fashion victim, too. Then again, short-shorts?!? Yeah, she's probably quite the fashion victim when she's not under house arrest.
Such is my observation for the day.
27 February 2006
Ye Olde Watering Hole
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: reminded
Category: reminded Blogging
There is a flagpole, here in the fair Elm City, in the middle of the Green, and on it is a memorial -- I believe -- to World War II... specifically -- if I'm not mistaken... to the D-Day invasion. It bears the name Verdun, among other French town names. I could be wrong. The point is not this anyway.
As a celebration of the millennium -- OK, the common numerical millennium, not the true one which began 1 January 2001 -- it was decided there would be a fountain erected around said flagpole. And so, by the early Summer of 2000, our lovely downtown flagpole was surrounded by some variety of active moat, which, I imagine, hinders the person in charge of raising and lowering said flag.
But raising and lowering aside, the real curiosity of the fountain was discovered that July.
It seems, that in the scenic downtown Elm City, that fountains are not just for admiring. Our Millennium Fountain had become a children's swimming hole. Cute, I guess, until you actually see the shoeless unwashed masses, diapered and dirty, splashing about, and loading their pockets with the pennies, nickels, and dimes thrown in by other locals, who -- one would have to guess -- mistook the Millennium Fountain for a wishing well.
No matter. Kids will be kids. And since there had been no procedure put in place to collect the coins, I guess they can have them.
Well, except for one thing...
In the hot summer days children splash merrily in the Millennium Fountain - Wishing Well - Downtown Public Pool, but after dark the fountain has different purpose.
For, in the light of the moon, our lovely fountain has now become the Downtown Homeless Bathhouse. Yes indeed. The homeless population of the fair Elm City, of which there are many, have declared this permanent water fixture as their very own public bath tub. Although the unwashed diapered children prefer the comfort of their own much, it seems the indigent prefer to get in a good scrubbing before they retire to their park benches on a warm summer night.
Enter bureaucracy.
ElmCity Ordinance 00-481: It is unlawful to bathe in the Millennium Fountain, per order of the City.
On six 4' x 3' sandwich-board signs ringing the perimeter of the fountain.
Beauty interrupted by legislation.
But hey, no swimming, right?
One would think, but one would be wrong.
And now, five and one-half years later, the sandwich boards, long since removed, have been replaced with these markers.
"PLEASE DO NOT ENTER THE FOUNTAIN"
Somehow I think that those who would bathe in the fountain would pay no mind to these warnings.
But they do look nice.
Current mood: reminded
Category: reminded Blogging
There is a flagpole, here in the fair Elm City, in the middle of the Green, and on it is a memorial -- I believe -- to World War II... specifically -- if I'm not mistaken... to the D-Day invasion. It bears the name Verdun, among other French town names. I could be wrong. The point is not this anyway.
As a celebration of the millennium -- OK, the common numerical millennium, not the true one which began 1 January 2001 -- it was decided there would be a fountain erected around said flagpole. And so, by the early Summer of 2000, our lovely downtown flagpole was surrounded by some variety of active moat, which, I imagine, hinders the person in charge of raising and lowering said flag.
But raising and lowering aside, the real curiosity of the fountain was discovered that July.
It seems, that in the scenic downtown Elm City, that fountains are not just for admiring. Our Millennium Fountain had become a children's swimming hole. Cute, I guess, until you actually see the shoeless unwashed masses, diapered and dirty, splashing about, and loading their pockets with the pennies, nickels, and dimes thrown in by other locals, who -- one would have to guess -- mistook the Millennium Fountain for a wishing well.
No matter. Kids will be kids. And since there had been no procedure put in place to collect the coins, I guess they can have them.
Well, except for one thing...
In the hot summer days children splash merrily in the Millennium Fountain - Wishing Well - Downtown Public Pool, but after dark the fountain has different purpose.
For, in the light of the moon, our lovely fountain has now become the Downtown Homeless Bathhouse. Yes indeed. The homeless population of the fair Elm City, of which there are many, have declared this permanent water fixture as their very own public bath tub. Although the unwashed diapered children prefer the comfort of their own much, it seems the indigent prefer to get in a good scrubbing before they retire to their park benches on a warm summer night.
Enter bureaucracy.
ElmCity Ordinance 00-481: It is unlawful to bathe in the Millennium Fountain, per order of the City.
On six 4' x 3' sandwich-board signs ringing the perimeter of the fountain.
Beauty interrupted by legislation.
But hey, no swimming, right?
One would think, but one would be wrong.
And now, five and one-half years later, the sandwich boards, long since removed, have been replaced with these markers.
"PLEASE DO NOT ENTER THE FOUNTAIN"
Somehow I think that those who would bathe in the fountain would pay no mind to these warnings.
But they do look nice.
06 February 2006
What's in a name?
Archived MySpace blog
Category: Blogging
I believe I need to start a new Government agency.
Now normally, I'm not in favour of bureaucracy. Heck, I work for the Government, and know how little can actually be done. But, in this case, I think its necessary
I propose the Bureau of Baby Naming.
I believe that there need to be officials in charge of reviewing baby names, at the hospital, before they are allowed to go on Birth Certificates. Allow me to explain.
Mr. & Mrs. Pope needed to be told that they should not be allowed to name their son John.
Mr. & Mrs. Lockman should have been informed that the amusement of naming their daughter Pandora gets old quick.
Mr. & Mrs. Jones should have been made aware that naming their son SirLawrence would not make him noble.
The same should have been said to Mr. & Mrs. James of their son King.
Mr. & Mrs. Outlaw should have just been told to change their last name before all 5 of their sons ended up in jail.
Mr. & Mrs. Barry... now these were an interesting pair. 3 daughters, LaAustralia, LaAsia, and LaKeebler. I just don't know what to say but "no".
More to come in the coming days.
Category: Blogging
I believe I need to start a new Government agency.
Now normally, I'm not in favour of bureaucracy. Heck, I work for the Government, and know how little can actually be done. But, in this case, I think its necessary
I propose the Bureau of Baby Naming.
I believe that there need to be officials in charge of reviewing baby names, at the hospital, before they are allowed to go on Birth Certificates. Allow me to explain.
Mr. & Mrs. Pope needed to be told that they should not be allowed to name their son John.
Mr. & Mrs. Lockman should have been informed that the amusement of naming their daughter Pandora gets old quick.
Mr. & Mrs. Jones should have been made aware that naming their son SirLawrence would not make him noble.
The same should have been said to Mr. & Mrs. James of their son King.
Mr. & Mrs. Outlaw should have just been told to change their last name before all 5 of their sons ended up in jail.
Mr. & Mrs. Barry... now these were an interesting pair. 3 daughters, LaAustralia, LaAsia, and LaKeebler. I just don't know what to say but "no".
More to come in the coming days.
15 November 2005
Bobby O
Archived MySpace blog
Category: Food and Restaurants
I fear I may be eating a sandwich named after a Bruin.
Yeah, OK, I'm odd. I'm odd for thinking about it, and even odder for caring. But you're reading it now, so here's the deal.
TJ's Deli, formerly TJ's Breakaway, and/or Breakaway Deli, makes a sandwich called the "Bobby O". Pastrami, Corned Beef, Russian Dressing, and Cole Slaw. I get mine on Rye. It's kinda their take on the Reuben.
But anyway... way back when, when New Haven was still a hockey town, and the legacy of the Blades, the Nighthawks, and... dare I say... the Beast were still part of the fabric of this burgh, Breakaway Deli celebrated this fact. Hockey memorabilia everywhere. Now, post even the New Haven Knights, in the shadow of a dismantling New Haven Coliseum, TJ's pays its allegiance to the Red Sox, the Patriots, and Nascar. But some of the sandwich names remain... Bobby O, and of course, The Beast.
Bobby Orr played during the hay-day of hockey. His number 4 hangs from the rafters at the Banknorth Garden in Boston.
Why is this important? Its not. The Boston Bruins, and their history, mean nothing to me. That's my point. Why am I eating a sandwich named after a Boston Bruin?
OK, OCD much? Why do I care? I'm just odd that way. I'd probably order the Guy LaFleur even if it was made with head Cheese on Pumpernickel. I'm like that. I consume with a bias that makes no rational sense. I'm always excited to purchase Irish- and Canadian-made products, and somehow I'm upset to eat a really good sandwich that's likely named after an ex-Bruin.
I need some serious help I think.
Or, I need Tom to make a tasty sandwich named after Kenny Dryden.
Category: Food and Restaurants
I fear I may be eating a sandwich named after a Bruin.
Yeah, OK, I'm odd. I'm odd for thinking about it, and even odder for caring. But you're reading it now, so here's the deal.
TJ's Deli, formerly TJ's Breakaway, and/or Breakaway Deli, makes a sandwich called the "Bobby O". Pastrami, Corned Beef, Russian Dressing, and Cole Slaw. I get mine on Rye. It's kinda their take on the Reuben.
But anyway... way back when, when New Haven was still a hockey town, and the legacy of the Blades, the Nighthawks, and... dare I say... the Beast were still part of the fabric of this burgh, Breakaway Deli celebrated this fact. Hockey memorabilia everywhere. Now, post even the New Haven Knights, in the shadow of a dismantling New Haven Coliseum, TJ's pays its allegiance to the Red Sox, the Patriots, and Nascar. But some of the sandwich names remain... Bobby O, and of course, The Beast.
Bobby Orr played during the hay-day of hockey. His number 4 hangs from the rafters at the Banknorth Garden in Boston.
Why is this important? Its not. The Boston Bruins, and their history, mean nothing to me. That's my point. Why am I eating a sandwich named after a Boston Bruin?
OK, OCD much? Why do I care? I'm just odd that way. I'd probably order the Guy LaFleur even if it was made with head Cheese on Pumpernickel. I'm like that. I consume with a bias that makes no rational sense. I'm always excited to purchase Irish- and Canadian-made products, and somehow I'm upset to eat a really good sandwich that's likely named after an ex-Bruin.
I need some serious help I think.
Or, I need Tom to make a tasty sandwich named after Kenny Dryden.
28 October 2005
Disimpoundment
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: relieved
Category: Automotive
I'm not even certain if "disimpoundment" is a word... but it is now.
Nonetheless, I have acquired my car.
Thursday night I walk out of work, head up the street, ready to hop in my car, call another day on the books. 'Hmm... I'm pretty sure this is where I parked.' Walk up a little farther.
Now, yes, the State pays for my parking, and yes, I'm a moron to park on the street instead of in the garage. But if I'm running late, its easier to park on the street, right by the coffee shop, and start my day from there.
'Fuck. They got me.' I have a few outstanding parking tickets. I'm running late a lot.
"Communications. Lt. _______ speaking."
"Hi, Denise. Its Ian from Court."
"Oh, hi, Ian. How are you?"
"Not too bad. Can you tell me where my car is?"
"It got towed? Tickets or taxes.?"
Yeah, so... within a half-hour I had all the details. Bottom line, $895. *gasp* Yeah, Denise even said, "have you ever paid a parking ticket in your life?" Well... yes, but usually I give them to my... we'll say "hookup". Apparently, my hook-up hasn't been hooking me up.
So, this morning, I talk to my hook-up. $300. $300 is better than $895, right? OK. $300 to New Haven Parking Authority (yeah, I'm not redacting their names; they're a bunch of feckin' pirates!) and $48 to the nice people at Columbus Towing (they were nice).
1:40 p.m., I have my car back. Needless to say, I'll be parking in the garage.
What the heck is gonna happen next?!?
Current mood: relieved
Category: Automotive
I'm not even certain if "disimpoundment" is a word... but it is now.
Nonetheless, I have acquired my car.
Thursday night I walk out of work, head up the street, ready to hop in my car, call another day on the books. 'Hmm... I'm pretty sure this is where I parked.' Walk up a little farther.
Now, yes, the State pays for my parking, and yes, I'm a moron to park on the street instead of in the garage. But if I'm running late, its easier to park on the street, right by the coffee shop, and start my day from there.
'Fuck. They got me.' I have a few outstanding parking tickets. I'm running late a lot.
"Communications. Lt. _______ speaking."
"Hi, Denise. Its Ian from Court."
"Oh, hi, Ian. How are you?"
"Not too bad. Can you tell me where my car is?"
"It got towed? Tickets or taxes.?"
Yeah, so... within a half-hour I had all the details. Bottom line, $895. *gasp* Yeah, Denise even said, "have you ever paid a parking ticket in your life?" Well... yes, but usually I give them to my... we'll say "hookup". Apparently, my hook-up hasn't been hooking me up.
So, this morning, I talk to my hook-up. $300. $300 is better than $895, right? OK. $300 to New Haven Parking Authority (yeah, I'm not redacting their names; they're a bunch of feckin' pirates!) and $48 to the nice people at Columbus Towing (they were nice).
1:40 p.m., I have my car back. Needless to say, I'll be parking in the garage.
What the heck is gonna happen next?!?
19 February 2005
The Count of New Haven's emissary visit to Lord Fairfield
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: curious
OK, odd title, I know. But, really, we have eight counties. We should have Counts. I could be the Count of New Haven. My family still has a seat on the House of Lords, and a Barony in Ireland. But anyway...
So I found myself in the second shire of the lands of Count Fairfield. And what an odd nation it is. There I met a friend of a friend, and emissary of Lord Fairfield. We had both expected to meet a common friend, but when that person failed to show, I found myself with the will to approach anyway. "Hey, aren't you... Yeah, so-and-so's friend. I'm Ëener." I'm glad I did. I won't mention the friend, at least not until I speak with certain Bridgeport detectives, or the statute of limitations runs out. But I digress...
So, I'm there, listening to a band, with my new "Kevin Bacon friends". The band tripped me out a bit. Their entire 1st set was actually the rotation from VH1 from this September. In order, I believe. I only know this because I was home sick for two weeks in September with some odd flu, and watched Insomniac Music Theatre nonstop. But again, I deviate from what I believe may have been a point.
And so I find it to be 11:00. Usually not a special moment, but at precisely 11:00 I came to an odd realization about the foreign land I was in. See, by 11:00, I was now smoking my 5th cigarette. Now, in my home county, one cannot smoke a cigarette in a bar, but in this strange land, one can. That alone would have been odd, but not as noteworthy as the next point. Apparently, in Lord Fairfield's lands, 11:00 marks another special occasion. At that time, the young female bartenders are compelled to remove their jackets and/or sweaters, revealing their midriff exposing tank-tops. Again, not particularly special on its own. But when half the female patrons of the bar follow suit, removing their outer tops, reducing themselves to what could only be described as underwear from the waste up, this I feel is something of note.
Maybe its not. Maybe I don't get out enough. I'm just not sure this phenomenon exists in my home County. Maybe I'm not going to the right bars. Maybe I am going to the right bars. All I know is, things are just a wee bit different across the County Line.
Current mood: curious
OK, odd title, I know. But, really, we have eight counties. We should have Counts. I could be the Count of New Haven. My family still has a seat on the House of Lords, and a Barony in Ireland. But anyway...
So I found myself in the second shire of the lands of Count Fairfield. And what an odd nation it is. There I met a friend of a friend, and emissary of Lord Fairfield. We had both expected to meet a common friend, but when that person failed to show, I found myself with the will to approach anyway. "Hey, aren't you... Yeah, so-and-so's friend. I'm Ëener." I'm glad I did. I won't mention the friend, at least not until I speak with certain Bridgeport detectives, or the statute of limitations runs out. But I digress...
So, I'm there, listening to a band, with my new "Kevin Bacon friends". The band tripped me out a bit. Their entire 1st set was actually the rotation from VH1 from this September. In order, I believe. I only know this because I was home sick for two weeks in September with some odd flu, and watched Insomniac Music Theatre nonstop. But again, I deviate from what I believe may have been a point.
And so I find it to be 11:00. Usually not a special moment, but at precisely 11:00 I came to an odd realization about the foreign land I was in. See, by 11:00, I was now smoking my 5th cigarette. Now, in my home county, one cannot smoke a cigarette in a bar, but in this strange land, one can. That alone would have been odd, but not as noteworthy as the next point. Apparently, in Lord Fairfield's lands, 11:00 marks another special occasion. At that time, the young female bartenders are compelled to remove their jackets and/or sweaters, revealing their midriff exposing tank-tops. Again, not particularly special on its own. But when half the female patrons of the bar follow suit, removing their outer tops, reducing themselves to what could only be described as underwear from the waste up, this I feel is something of note.
Maybe its not. Maybe I don't get out enough. I'm just not sure this phenomenon exists in my home County. Maybe I'm not going to the right bars. Maybe I am going to the right bars. All I know is, things are just a wee bit different across the County Line.
04 February 2005
Pizza City, USA
Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: full
*Disclaimer: for the purposes of this blog, "pizza" actually means pizza*
So for lunch today I'm having pizza. Bacon and Mozz from Amato's. Garlic bread with Mozz. Foxon Park Kola. And I'm thinking, if I ever left this area, I'd really miss the Pizza.
Say what you will about pizza from your hometown, but for me, New Haven pizza is the best. New York style, big and floppy, is a decent 2nd place, but nothing beats New Haven.
Its a great place to be if you love pizza. Pepe's, Sally's, Modern, Bar, Abate's, Amato's, Tolli's, the list goes on and on.
I've lived in Boston, and I've lived in Montreal, and one of the things I really missed was pizza. I'd miss it so much I'd order pizza there, and not surprisingly, I'd be utterly disgusted.
So, now is the group participation part. Drop a comment, and answer next few questions about pizza (yes, about actual pizza, Firecracker). And since most of the people who read my blog are from, or live, down here in Southern CT, I'm gonna keep some of it regional. Oh, and remove my answers. I want to hear yours, not just mine again. Here goes:
1.) Best pizza topping(s): Bacon and Onion (sometimes known as the Irish Pie)
2.) Define "plain": Sauce, no cheese, sometimes a bit of oregano or basil
3.) Most ridiculous pizza topping: Probably the Everything + Smoked Meat + Meat Sauce from the place down the street from my grandfather in Montreal. One slice made me full for days.
4.) Worst Pizza you've ever had: Possibly T-Anthony's in Boston. Yet we still went there all the time
5.) Best city to get pizza: New Haven, CT
6.) Best Pizzaria: Modern Apizza, State Street, New Haven
7.) Best Delivery that serves your home: Pizza di Roma, West Haven
8.) Pepe's or Sally's: Pepe's
9.) If not Pepe's or Sally's, best place to get "New Haven Pizza": Modern, or Bar
10.) Donal Logue's unfinished thoughts about pizza: (for those of you who watch I love the 90's)
Currently listening :
Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge
By My Chemical Romance
Release date: 08 June, 2004
Current mood: full
*Disclaimer: for the purposes of this blog, "pizza" actually means pizza*
So for lunch today I'm having pizza. Bacon and Mozz from Amato's. Garlic bread with Mozz. Foxon Park Kola. And I'm thinking, if I ever left this area, I'd really miss the Pizza.
Say what you will about pizza from your hometown, but for me, New Haven pizza is the best. New York style, big and floppy, is a decent 2nd place, but nothing beats New Haven.
Its a great place to be if you love pizza. Pepe's, Sally's, Modern, Bar, Abate's, Amato's, Tolli's, the list goes on and on.
I've lived in Boston, and I've lived in Montreal, and one of the things I really missed was pizza. I'd miss it so much I'd order pizza there, and not surprisingly, I'd be utterly disgusted.
So, now is the group participation part. Drop a comment, and answer next few questions about pizza (yes, about actual pizza, Firecracker). And since most of the people who read my blog are from, or live, down here in Southern CT, I'm gonna keep some of it regional. Oh, and remove my answers. I want to hear yours, not just mine again. Here goes:
1.) Best pizza topping(s): Bacon and Onion (sometimes known as the Irish Pie)
2.) Define "plain": Sauce, no cheese, sometimes a bit of oregano or basil
3.) Most ridiculous pizza topping: Probably the Everything + Smoked Meat + Meat Sauce from the place down the street from my grandfather in Montreal. One slice made me full for days.
4.) Worst Pizza you've ever had: Possibly T-Anthony's in Boston. Yet we still went there all the time
5.) Best city to get pizza: New Haven, CT
6.) Best Pizzaria: Modern Apizza, State Street, New Haven
7.) Best Delivery that serves your home: Pizza di Roma, West Haven
8.) Pepe's or Sally's: Pepe's
9.) If not Pepe's or Sally's, best place to get "New Haven Pizza": Modern, or Bar
10.) Donal Logue's unfinished thoughts about pizza: (for those of you who watch I love the 90's)
Currently listening :
Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge
By My Chemical Romance
Release date: 08 June, 2004
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
