Dissed by the Bell

"Fire in the Disco. Fire in the... Taco Bell."*

Well, I say burn Taco Bell, burn.

As a junk food vegetarian I love "the Bell." I make far too frequent runs to the border for it to be gastronomically safe. At one time I half-joked that it would be cool to have a table of TB bean burritos at my wedding reception. This was, of course, before I actually was faced with planning the actual event. At this point I was forced to make it a full joke.

When I was 11 years old in the hospital and still on a liquid diet after having semi-major kidney surgery (no worries, I still have it), the doctor asked me what my favorite meal was. I told him Taco Bell tacos (not a vegetarian till 25) and Dr. Pepper. He then informed me that he would get me that meal as soon as I produced a solid "movement" (can you believe it took me 5 posts to make my first mention of poo?). Needless to say, I worked very hard and was eating the tacos the next day.

A very fond memory from my college days involved the planning and executing of a day off from classes so I could stuff myself with tacos and burritos and then go see the very first showing of the first Batman movie on opening day by myself.

When my brother and I briefly shared an apartment post-college (I doubt he will ever be post-college), I learned he really loved me when I was extremely hung-over and he offered to go out to get Taco Bell for breakfast (1:30pm).

All this is just to say, the Bell and I go way back, and we go way-deep. That is why when they wrong me, it hurts just as deeply.

Today I was down. Not in a happy place. It's hard to say why. I'm just glum. I needed a pick-me-up. I needed gooey beans and cheese. I needed a Nachos Supreme (mmmmmm cheese sauce...). So, I left the office and drove the 12 minutes to the closest TB, walked in, and placed my order. As always, I specified that I wanted "no meat" on my Nachos Supreme. She even repeated it back to me, so, I figured that was enough and I didn't need to double-check before heading back to work with my food. Stupid me.

Sure enough, back at my desk, I open the nachos and they are covered in meat and there are no beans to be found. I promptly got online and complained on the corporate web site. Thankfully I had also ordered a burrito, otherwise I would be ticked off and still hungry. Mmmmmmm tasty burrito...

Oh Taco Bell, I can't stay mad at you. You better treat me right tomorrow.

G

* Quoted from "Danger! High Voltage" by Electric Six, the greatest novelty-metal-disco band you will ever hear. They happen to be appearing live in Denver at the Larimer Lounge on April 10th. See you there!

Enough is Enough!

I am sick and tired of telling you over and over. If you don't own this cd (or collection of legally downloaded audio files), go get it. The Postal Service: Give Up has been my #1 for two years now. Whenever one of the songs randomly comes up on my iPod I am forced to go back and listen to the whole album from beginning to end. For crying out loud, do I have to hit you with a shovel?

Oh, the Humanity! The Injustice!

If I, Tangent Boy, am nothing else, I am a man of my word... I think. Yesterday's post closed with me mentioning that today I might talk about pizza. Well, the events of a just-completed lunch have made that self-suggested topic very easy to fufill.

Let's get something straight. I love pizza. I have, on more than one occassion gone 7 days in a row with having one form of pizza or another (frozen, homemade, delivery, counter slices, leftovers, etc.) each day. I know that loving pizza is not an uncommon thing, In fact, I have surrounded myself with friends who love pizza almost as much as I.

On Thurdays, a small group of us meet at Anthony's Pizza & Pasta in the Denver Tech Center area. Anthony's is a small chain here in the Denver area that, for a few of us, is the benchmark for great New York style pizza. I have had true NY style pie in NYNY that didn't live up to a good, large, foldable, greasy slice from Anthony's. Through almost 10-years of switching careers and neighborhoods we have enjoyed this pizza at one location or another. It is home for our pizza-loving stomachs.

Our normal procedure is to walk in, each order a couple of big slices and some cokes, consume said products, BS about the usual stuff, put off going back to work till the last minute, and then part ways. For the past two weeks though, we have witnessed horrible cruelty that has prevented us from truly relaxing and enjoying our meal. Instead we wind up leaving emotionally scarred, confused, insecure, and tense. I actually hope someone out there in the blogosphere can offer us some advice.

So, here's the lowdown...

On our last two visits to Anthony's we have been in mid-munching. The slices are good and greasy, folded up, and tasting great. One of us then notices something a little off at another table. At first it just looks like any empty, messy table yet to be cleaned for the next patron. Then you notice the problem. THERE IS STILL PIZZA LEFT OVER!! I am not talking about a slice or two from a small pie. I am talking about an extra large, 18", 8-slice, half-table covering pizza pie that has only 3 slices missing. 5 SLICES LEFT!! Each one of these slices can make up 2-3 "normal-sized" slices. This is a boatload of pizza. And the people that were sitting there are GONE.

At this point we start looking at each other like someone is playing a joke. Then we say "Oh, they must be in the bathroom," and watch to the restroom doors for the next 5 minutes to see the "owner" of the pizza to emerge and resume their meal. This of course doesn't happen, and the debate begins between the 3 pizza dorks.

#1: "Should we?"

#2: "I dare you."

#3: "Dude, don't do it. You could never show your face around here if you do."

#1: "What?! It's not like taking it out of the trash."

#3: "It's the principle of it."

#1: "What principle?! THEY left a whole FREAKING pizza! You never leave a slice behind! All they had to do was ask for a box."

#1: "Why order a whole pie if that is all you can eat?"

#2: "Is there a camera watching us?"

#3: "You gonna grab it?"

#2: "No, but someone might think it's hilarious that we are stressing about some pizza."

#1: "Ok, what if, when the guy comes to clean the table, we offer to give him 2 bucks to take it back and bring it back boxed up."

#3: "You mean pay someone so I can embarrass myself? NO."

#2: "Well, do you want that pizza?"

#1: "Yes."

#3: "Yes."

#2: "I thought so. Me too."

#1: "How bout this? We kinda know the owner. I mean, he knows we are in here every week. He knows we love the pizza. What if we ask him 'hypothetically' how he feels about someone taking someone else's leftovers? We can say it with a smile and make it sound like we are kind of goofing off."

#3: "Ok, what if he's against it?"

#1: "No harm. We were just joking around."

#3: "What if he laughs and says 'no problem'?"

#2: "Ask him for a box."

#1: "Oh my god! Look at it! How can we just let it sit there?"

#2: "I know. I know."

#3: "You know what? I am geting too old to be scared of something like this. I'm gonna grab it."

#1: "Really?! Go."

#2: "Yeah. Go. Go now."

#3: "Hold on."

#1: "Go man. Go."

#3: "Hold ON!"

#1: "Oh forget it. I'm gonna be late for a meeting."

#2: "We are such losers..."

-- Then we exit to the parking lot --

#2: "Ok, I got it. From now on we bring mini disguises. Hat, dark glasses, etc. When it happens again, one of us goes to the bathroom, puts on the disguise, comes back to the leftover pizza, sits down by it for a minute and then takes it up to be boxed."

#1: "Perfect. You go first next week."

So, here is how you help us out. What would you do? These aren't half-eaten slices. This is food that has not yet been touched by human hands since emerging from the kitchen. And remember, we love it so very much. Also, just so you have the right picture in your head, all of us are fairly trim guys(all under 190). We aren't going to stuff our faces right there. Anthony's heats up as a great snack or lunch the next day.

Please hurry. Next Thursday's lunch is just 166 hours away.

G

The Stink Twins and a Suited Pair

I realize that I just started this blog thingy just yesterday, but you should all be aware by now of the empahsis my weekly poker game has on my life. I mean, I did mention it as one of the things you are sure to see me blab on about from time to time. Well, now is one of those times.

First, a little intro. A core group of friends started playing Texas Hold'Em together about 4 years ago (I'd like to think before the big craze hit). We would only play once every 3 weeks I think, and we would try to rotate around to different houses so no one person was over-burdened with hosting duties. This core group started with about 6 people, and gradually expanded to about 10 or 11 by last year at this time. Then the "SkankHouse" was born. I will leave the story of the SkankHouse for another time (BIG tangent), but just understand that it gave us a chance to play every week without debating who will host. It also let us increase the amount of players, which is where this particular story comes in. Once we had space to add players, several members of the group invited some "tangent" players (like that?). Some of these new players invited a few others. So, now we have a semi-regular stable of players that hovers around 20-25 on most weeks.

Now, we were once told by a newcomer that ours was the most "Christian" poker game he had ever been to. This is not to say that the loser of a hand must read a Bible verse, or that if you were caught in a bluff it was grounds for expulsion from the game and you were damned to hell for at least a decade. This newbie was simply noting that there was no smoking of any kind inside, and that 90% of the players were drinking nothing harder than bottled water and the occassional generic black cherry soda from Safeway.

Some of these new players have not yet caught on to our clean-living ways. Some show up with six packs of tasty, spendy micro-brews. Some arrive lugging suitcases of what is considered to be the monarchy of barley pops, and a couple just walk in gripping a couple 40oz. "tallboys" of what I consider to be cold, fermented urine. These are the two guys I get stuck sitting between later in the game. I now call them the Stink Twins.

These are two VERY tangent players that just started playing with us about a month ago. They are loose friends of friends of friends. Both show up every week half-pickled and half-baked (mmmmmmmmmmmm baked pickles). Both bring nasty, smelly dip cups to the table. Both are big talkers. Stinky 1 blabs about how he plays poker "up the hill" in Black Hawk 3 or 4 times a week and 5 games at a time online. Tonight, however, he has added the topic of how much seafood he ate before coming to play. Stinky 2 is always just so happy and polite to the point of being obsequious, and he has the habit of making a little mumbled comment at every flip of a card.

Be warned, here is where the poker geek talk may start.
http://www.blackjack-strategycard.com/poker_terminology.htm

OK, so it is late in the tournament. We have gone from two full tables to one table with about 5 players left. The top 4 will get paid from the overall pot of buy-ins. Stinky 1 has just gotten knocked out but doesn't use the oppportunity to be quiet and let the remaining players compete in peace. Instead, he decides to taunt his just-as-drunk buddy by letting loose some pungent seafood and beer farts and wave them at Stinky 2. Remember, I AM BETWEEN THEM. Stinky 2 is just too drunk or into his game (doubtful) to notice or care. He also doesn't notice the little beer burps that keep escaping his lips as he continues his own form of rambling. It just seems that they keep escaping when he turns in my direction. So, while the space behind me smells like a porta-potty, the area in front of me smells like a dumpster of rotten pizza. Still I trudge on.

In the midst of this noxious cloud there still the rages the "Battle of the Bubble." On the way from 9 players to 5, I was able to build up my measly stack from being short-stacked to about middle. As I said, we have 5 players left. They include myself and 2 other "core" members, 1 second-tier member, and Stinky 2, who I consider to be about tier 5 or 6 (the tiers refer to their degree of separation from the core group, not their playing ability). When one more person gets knocked out everyone remaining will be "in-the-money" and at least get their buy-in back, if not more.

So Stinky 2 is dealing and I am the small blind. "Holy Sheet" (the nickname for a good friend and core member) is first to act and goes all-in pre-flop. "T-Bone" folds, as does Stinky 2. I take a peek at my hole cards and see a pair of Jacks, so I call the all-in (I still have some chips leftover). The big blind folds so it is now heads-up and HS and I flip our cards. He has 77 against my JJ. Now Stinky 2 has to wake up and deal the community cards. The first card Stinky 2 shows for the flop is a 7, followed by a Queen and I think a 4. Everyone howls and I think I am about to take a beating. Next another Q. On the turn, Stinky 2 shows another J, which would mean I win with a full house of 3 Js and 2 Qs. I am about to joyfully rake my money when one of the players who is already out looks at all the cards and says "Hey, why is there a suited pair of 7s?".

Sure enough, Holy Sheet had a 7 of hearts in his hand and another on the board. It then became apparent that Stinky 2 had been dealing the community cards from the deck that I had just finished shuffling for the next hand. NOT the one we were playing this hand with. In a sign of true friendship, Stinky 1 starts yelling at #2 "You fu¢#ing idiot!! What a moron!!" and commences another round of fart-waving. We promptly re-play the flop-river with the right deck and I take it legitimately with a 10-A straight. I made it on to take 3rd in the tourney, with Stinky 2 stumbling his way into second. Grrrrrr.

Next week I bring the filtered breathing mask I used to clean the asbestos out of my basement and I load up twice as much on the pre-poker meal of bean burritos, so I have some ammo of my own.

I realize this is a VERY anti-climactic post. So much build-up with nothing for a payoff. I am sorry, but that is what Tangent Boy does. Maybe tomorrow I will talk about pizza. I love pizza.

G

Welcome to Tangent Boy!

Tangent Boy is me. A fella that can't seem to stay on track with a topic for too long. I try to make it back to the original topic eventually, but sometimes it is very difficult to leave conversational breadcrumbs. I will try to stay on topic for at least one complete post. No promises though.

On any given day you may see me rant or just wax fondly about the things that REALLY matter to me and make me smile -- pizza, my regular "home" poker game, geek toys (think iPod & TiVo), comic books, cocktails with friends, burritos, music, cooking vegetarian food, movies, eating vegetarian food, trips to Vegas, etc.

Based on this description, I realize that those who know me may have a one question...

Q: "You neglected to mention your lovely wife. Does she not make you smile?"
A: Don't be silly. She is by far the greatest thing in my life. It's just that I don't like sleeping on the couch, so I don't share MOST of the silly stories about her with the virtual masses.

Don't come here expecting me to impart any grand opinions on politics or religion. It's not my style, and besides, there is already plenty of that on the internet. I know you might say there is already plenty of goofy individuals running on about any inane topic that pops into their head. You are right. As of today there is plenty plus one.

Now, if I do happen to bring up some political or religious topic, you can expect my input to be quite brief. For example, I might say something as profound and completely heartfelt as "war is bad." Whatever you do, please don't expect me to carry on some big debate about it. Just say to yourself, "hey, now I know that he thinks war is bad."

OK then. Let's get this thing rolling.

G