Articles Archive for March 2011
I’ve been asked, “Hey, shithead, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever inscribed in a book?”
This is probably #2.
(I’ll tell you #1 another time.)
[Editor’s Note: Photo courtesy of Kerstyne’s Facebook page. She tagged me in the photo, so I figure I can use it.]
[And while Joleen didn’t pay me directly to write that, she bought the book and asked me to write those words. So, there.]
There’s a new post up over on my Tumblr blog that I’m linking to here, rather than re-posting (because it involves re-blogging, and, well, you’ll see what I mean).
This is also a good opportunity to remind you that I’m posting pretty much every day over at Tumblr, as it’s micro-blogging (short posts or pics or even easy to upload songs) and I can do it from my phone in a snap. So if you’re ever bored or wondering where I am, head over there. Otherwise, you’ll still get the goods here, too (sorry, “goods”).
(And if you can’t remember “jasonmulgrew.tumblr.com,” Site Guy Brendan has inserted a “Tumblr” tab above, between “Choice Cuts” and “Archives.” That’ll take you there.)
This is also a good opportunity to remind you that I’m posting pretty much every day over at Tumblr, as it’s micro-blogging (short posts or pics or even easy to upload songs) and I can do it from my phone in a snap. So if you’re ever bored or wondering where I am, head over there. Otherwise, you’ll still get the goods here, too (sorry, “goods”).
(And if you can’t remember “jasonmulgrew.tumblr.com,” Site Guy Brendan has inserted a “Tumblr” tab above, between “Choice Cuts” and “Archives.” That’ll take you there.)
Because I am whiny and miserable and have a mild case of the runs and a headache and my back hurts, we’re doing bullets. This weekend, I
- Arrived in Philly at 8:30pm on Friday night and, as per usual, went straight from 30th Street Station to Tony Luke’s. Now, of course, Philly is known for their sandwiches (or, sanwidges), but as someone who grew up there, I can tell you five local cheesesteak places that are just as good as some of the big names. (For example, little known fact: Pat’s and Geno’s are actually quite terrible and are only good because they’re open 24 hours and taste decent when you’re bombed. Otherwise, they’re for tourists and people who enjoy subpar cheesesteaks.)
But Tony Luke’s is a bit different because though being “famous,” boy, they make good sandwiches. I’ll usually go with the chicken cutlet supreme or even the chicken cheesesteak, because I can get decent cheesesteaks in NYC; Carl’s is probably the gold standard here, but I’ll be damned if Philly’s Cheesesteaks at Houston and Orchard isn’t effing delicious. However, I had a hankering for some meat and went whiz wit’ and was not disappointed (although I have to remember to order extra whiz, since they tend to skimp out on the cheese) (sorry, “cheese”). Mad props to my sister for only eating about 63% of her cheesesteak and leaving me the rest. Good start to the weekend.
- Had brunch on Saturday morning at The Irish Times. Love this place and usually hit it up every time I’m in Philly, often as part of my Artful Dodger – Irish Times one-two combo (the two bars are close to each other). But though I drink more at the Artful Dodger, they don’t have breakfast. I got the full Irish breakfast at the Irish Times and god DAMN it was huge (I forgot to take a picture of it, as I dove right in). Great space, great Guinness, great food. I would have sat there drinking for hours, but I had to run because I…
- Attended a beer pong tournament that featured a mechanical bull. No, really:
As predicted, this turned into a shitshow. As for the tourney, it was double elimination, and my buddy Steve and I lost our first match, won our second, and lost our third. As for the bull, I didn’t ride it (I’m sure you’re surprised by this), but that didn’t stop many, many others from riding. The only sort-of bummer was that the tourney started at 2pm and, geez, I probably left the place at 11pm or midnight (not bad for $40), whereas the bull was only there from 2pm to 6pm. So just as people were getting really drunk and adventurous, the bull had to leave. Alas. Next year, the hosts know better and will get the bull for a later four hour period.
But why, exactly, was it a shitshow for me? Well, I…
- Did not stay in the hotel room that I raved about getting on Priceline for cheap, for one. There are two possible excuses why. The first is that I drank too much and was not able to even get up the gumption/wherewithal to hail a cab. This is probably true, as I had a lot, lot, lot to drink during the course of the day. But the other excuse for this is that for the first time in a very long time, I went a full day without caffeine. Now, I’m not, like, addicted to caffeine, but I do start every day with a 24 oz D&D tea, and then have a diet Pepsi sometime around 3:30pm-ish to help me make it through the remainder of the workday. When drinking, two vodka red bulls are enough to turbo-charge me from 8pm until 4am. So a little bit goes a long way for me, and apparently none goes, well, nowhere. After leaving Froggy Carr (where the tourney was held), my friends and I went to the diner and I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. When I got to my dad’s, he was already in bed, and I fell asleep sitting on the couch with the dog at my feet before retiring to the bedroom with a bottle of water and two Bayer. So, good thing I got that hotel room cheap!
- Got a ride back to NYC on Sunday from my dad, and he, m’lady and my temporary roommate Brian got $70 worth of Polish take-out. But before heading back to NYC and while back at my dad’s place in Philly, I came into the kitchen, reached into the cupboard for a mug for some water, and found this:
C’mon, dad. You gotta find a better hiding place than that.
- Arrived in Philly at 8:30pm on Friday night and, as per usual, went straight from 30th Street Station to Tony Luke’s. Now, of course, Philly is known for their sandwiches (or, sanwidges), but as someone who grew up there, I can tell you five local cheesesteak places that are just as good as some of the big names. (For example, little known fact: Pat’s and Geno’s are actually quite terrible and are only good because they’re open 24 hours and taste decent when you’re bombed. Otherwise, they’re for tourists and people who enjoy subpar cheesesteaks.)
But Tony Luke’s is a bit different because though being “famous,” boy, they make good sandwiches. I’ll usually go with the chicken cutlet supreme or even the chicken cheesesteak, because I can get decent cheesesteaks in NYC; Carl’s is probably the gold standard here, but I’ll be damned if Philly’s Cheesesteaks at Houston and Orchard isn’t effing delicious. However, I had a hankering for some meat and went whiz wit’ and was not disappointed (although I have to remember to order extra whiz, since they tend to skimp out on the cheese) (sorry, “cheese”). Mad props to my sister for only eating about 63% of her cheesesteak and leaving me the rest. Good start to the weekend.
- Had brunch on Saturday morning at The Irish Times. Love this place and usually hit it up every time I’m in Philly, often as part of my Artful Dodger – Irish Times one-two combo (the two bars are close to each other). But though I drink more at the Artful Dodger, they don’t have breakfast. I got the full Irish breakfast at the Irish Times and god DAMN it was huge (I forgot to take a picture of it, as I dove right in). Great space, great Guinness, great food. I would have sat there drinking for hours, but I had to run because I…
- Attended a beer pong tournament that featured a mechanical bull. No, really:
As predicted, this turned into a shitshow. As for the tourney, it was double elimination, and my buddy Steve and I lost our first match, won our second, and lost our third. As for the bull, I didn’t ride it (I’m sure you’re surprised by this), but that didn’t stop many, many others from riding. The only sort-of bummer was that the tourney started at 2pm and, geez, I probably left the place at 11pm or midnight (not bad for $40), whereas the bull was only there from 2pm to 6pm. So just as people were getting really drunk and adventurous, the bull had to leave. Alas. Next year, the hosts know better and will get the bull for a later four hour period.
But why, exactly, was it a shitshow for me? Well, I…
- Did not stay in the hotel room that I raved about getting on Priceline for cheap, for one. There are two possible excuses why. The first is that I drank too much and was not able to even get up the gumption/wherewithal to hail a cab. This is probably true, as I had a lot, lot, lot to drink during the course of the day. But the other excuse for this is that for the first time in a very long time, I went a full day without caffeine. Now, I’m not, like, addicted to caffeine, but I do start every day with a 24 oz D&D tea, and then have a diet Pepsi sometime around 3:30pm-ish to help me make it through the remainder of the workday. When drinking, two vodka red bulls are enough to turbo-charge me from 8pm until 4am. So a little bit goes a long way for me, and apparently none goes, well, nowhere. After leaving Froggy Carr (where the tourney was held), my friends and I went to the diner and I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. When I got to my dad’s, he was already in bed, and I fell asleep sitting on the couch with the dog at my feet before retiring to the bedroom with a bottle of water and two Bayer. So, good thing I got that hotel room cheap!
- Got a ride back to NYC on Sunday from my dad, and he, m’lady and my temporary roommate Brian got $70 worth of Polish take-out. But before heading back to NYC and while back at my dad’s place in Philly, I came into the kitchen, reached into the cupboard for a mug for some water, and found this:
C’mon, dad. You gotta find a better hiding place than that.
This weekend, I’m headed to Philly for a beer pong tournament. Yes, I am 31 years old. And yes, I’m a little embarrassed by this, so embarrassed that I’ve been telling people that it’s a beer pong tournament for charity, at which point people say, “Oh, well, that’s nice – what charity?” and I get caught off-guard and say, “Um, tsunami relief?” and they say, “OMG! That really is nice!” and then I feel really, really terrible, because it’s not for charity at all. It’s just a massive beer pong tourney run by my buddy Dave, who some of you may know as my co-founder of the World’s Greatest Pub Crawl ™, Drink Until You Shit. So I have to support him in his other drinking-related ventures.
The tourney starts at 2pm on Saturday and features unlimited food and drink (and a t-shirt!). By my calculation, my night should be over around 9:30pm (when I go out with my buddies in Philly, the shots come out early and often). Ending my night at 9:30pm is not a bad thing in and of itself, but it can make things awkward when I get home.
You see, when I go to Philly, I usually stay at my dad’s house. He has a spare bedroom that’s always freezing and causes me to sleep like the dead, which I enjoy. Also, I do like hanging out with him. But from about 8pm until 1am every night, my dad sits in his chair and watches TV and smokes cigarettes. This is absolutely, 100% non-negotiable. If there were a fire in the kitchen, he would probably wait until whatever nature show he’s watching was over before doing anything about it. 8pm to 1am is dad-in-chair time.
So it might be a little awkward when this Saturday night I nearly fall through the door at 9:30pm, slur my speech, and then commence eating a Wawa hoagie with such voracity that I quite look like the wolverine he’s currently watching on NatGeo. And then I follow this display by taking four Bayer (forgetting that I had already taken two), asking him if it’s ok that I took four Bayer and getting upset about potentially having poisoned myself, and then spend the next two hours sitting in the only shower in the house, simultaneously trying to sober up and falling in and out of consciousness and attempting, in vain, to masturbate. Don’t get me wrong – my dad knows that I drink, and he certainly has had his fair share of drunken mishaps (and you know this because you’ve all read my book, right?). But it’s one thing to know your son hits the booze pretty hard and another to see him in the kitchen struggling in vain to open a jar of mayonnaise before putting the jar down on the counter and lying down on the kitchen floor to “regain some strength” before trying again. At 9:30pm.
[Did I mention that this beer pong tournament has a twist this year, which is a mechanical bull? Hours of hanging out with my Philly buddies, drinking unlimited draft beer, playing in (and winning) what is sure to be a competitive beer pong tourney, and then riding (or, more realistically, watching people ride) a mechanical bull? Good god – I don’t think I should plan anything for Sunday outside of napping, eating or pooping.]
I really didn’t know what to do about this. I definitely, definitely wanted to take part in the tournament, having missed it previous years, as it usually coincides with my annual man weekend/fantasy baseball draft. For about ten seconds, I contemplated trying to take it easy, but realized that that just wasn’t going to happen. So I was stressed about this. I can’t go and take it easy. Should I not go? No, I really want to go. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
But then I got an idea.
Priceline.
Yes, Priceline. I’ve named my own price for hotels all across the country, and it’s rarely let me down. Priceline would allow me to get a hotel room for cheap, so I could get as bombed as I like and not have to worry about acting the fool in front of my dad. I could eat, shower, cry and, potentially, order a prostitute, all alone in the privacy of my little hotel room, somewhere in downtown Philadelphia. Excellent.
But ay, there’s a rub. When you name your own price on Priceline, you pick three variables: the price of the bid (duh), the minimum star rating for the hotel, the general location of the hotel. It’s this last one that gave me trouble. According to Priceline, “downtown Philadelphia” is everything from a stone’s throw from my neighborhood to a $30+ cab ride away. What I was looking for here was a cheap room – again, I just want somewhere to eat a hoagie and be drunk and take a long shower in peace, so spending $70 or $80 on the room plus taking a $30 cab is not what I’m looking for.
However, with no other recourse, I decided I would roll the dice. But I would intentionally low ball my offer, so that if I ended up with a hotel on the outer fringes of “downtown” Philadelphia, I could deal with a potentially more expensive cab ride. So I bid only $40.
And it hit.
And it hit on a hotel about a $12 cab ride away from the neighborhood.
And it hit on a hotel about a $12 cab ride away from the neighborhood that has a much higher star rating than what I was shooting for (I was aiming for “you probably won’t be murdered in this room, but only because you’re big – smaller people have definitely been murdered here,” but ended up with “oh, dude, the only way you’re getting murdered here is if it’s a freako high-class hooker that kills you.”)
And now, it is on. I get to spend all day getting bombed with some of my best buds, eat and drink and watch people get thrown off a mechanical bull, and then at the end of the evening, retire to a (moderately) swanky hotel room just a quick cab ride away from the ‘hood. Charity beer pong tourney, look the fuck out.
[By the way, just before press time I confirmed that this is an open event and all are welcome. So if you’re in Philly and looking to get hammered on Saturday afternoon, come to the Froggy Carr Club at 1429 S. Second Street (Phila. Pa 19148). As mentioned, it starts at 2pm and $40 includes (presumably draft) beer, food and t-shirt. You can find me, or ask for Floody.]
[Oh, and if you do decide to come, prepare to lose – I’m taking home the trophy for this one.]
The tourney starts at 2pm on Saturday and features unlimited food and drink (and a t-shirt!). By my calculation, my night should be over around 9:30pm (when I go out with my buddies in Philly, the shots come out early and often). Ending my night at 9:30pm is not a bad thing in and of itself, but it can make things awkward when I get home.
You see, when I go to Philly, I usually stay at my dad’s house. He has a spare bedroom that’s always freezing and causes me to sleep like the dead, which I enjoy. Also, I do like hanging out with him. But from about 8pm until 1am every night, my dad sits in his chair and watches TV and smokes cigarettes. This is absolutely, 100% non-negotiable. If there were a fire in the kitchen, he would probably wait until whatever nature show he’s watching was over before doing anything about it. 8pm to 1am is dad-in-chair time.
So it might be a little awkward when this Saturday night I nearly fall through the door at 9:30pm, slur my speech, and then commence eating a Wawa hoagie with such voracity that I quite look like the wolverine he’s currently watching on NatGeo. And then I follow this display by taking four Bayer (forgetting that I had already taken two), asking him if it’s ok that I took four Bayer and getting upset about potentially having poisoned myself, and then spend the next two hours sitting in the only shower in the house, simultaneously trying to sober up and falling in and out of consciousness and attempting, in vain, to masturbate. Don’t get me wrong – my dad knows that I drink, and he certainly has had his fair share of drunken mishaps (and you know this because you’ve all read my book, right?). But it’s one thing to know your son hits the booze pretty hard and another to see him in the kitchen struggling in vain to open a jar of mayonnaise before putting the jar down on the counter and lying down on the kitchen floor to “regain some strength” before trying again. At 9:30pm.
[Did I mention that this beer pong tournament has a twist this year, which is a mechanical bull? Hours of hanging out with my Philly buddies, drinking unlimited draft beer, playing in (and winning) what is sure to be a competitive beer pong tourney, and then riding (or, more realistically, watching people ride) a mechanical bull? Good god – I don’t think I should plan anything for Sunday outside of napping, eating or pooping.]
I really didn’t know what to do about this. I definitely, definitely wanted to take part in the tournament, having missed it previous years, as it usually coincides with my annual man weekend/fantasy baseball draft. For about ten seconds, I contemplated trying to take it easy, but realized that that just wasn’t going to happen. So I was stressed about this. I can’t go and take it easy. Should I not go? No, I really want to go. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Repeat, repeat, repeat.
But then I got an idea.
Priceline.
Yes, Priceline. I’ve named my own price for hotels all across the country, and it’s rarely let me down. Priceline would allow me to get a hotel room for cheap, so I could get as bombed as I like and not have to worry about acting the fool in front of my dad. I could eat, shower, cry and, potentially, order a prostitute, all alone in the privacy of my little hotel room, somewhere in downtown Philadelphia. Excellent.
But ay, there’s a rub. When you name your own price on Priceline, you pick three variables: the price of the bid (duh), the minimum star rating for the hotel, the general location of the hotel. It’s this last one that gave me trouble. According to Priceline, “downtown Philadelphia” is everything from a stone’s throw from my neighborhood to a $30+ cab ride away. What I was looking for here was a cheap room – again, I just want somewhere to eat a hoagie and be drunk and take a long shower in peace, so spending $70 or $80 on the room plus taking a $30 cab is not what I’m looking for.
However, with no other recourse, I decided I would roll the dice. But I would intentionally low ball my offer, so that if I ended up with a hotel on the outer fringes of “downtown” Philadelphia, I could deal with a potentially more expensive cab ride. So I bid only $40.
And it hit.
And it hit on a hotel about a $12 cab ride away from the neighborhood.
And it hit on a hotel about a $12 cab ride away from the neighborhood that has a much higher star rating than what I was shooting for (I was aiming for “you probably won’t be murdered in this room, but only because you’re big – smaller people have definitely been murdered here,” but ended up with “oh, dude, the only way you’re getting murdered here is if it’s a freako high-class hooker that kills you.”)
And now, it is on. I get to spend all day getting bombed with some of my best buds, eat and drink and watch people get thrown off a mechanical bull, and then at the end of the evening, retire to a (moderately) swanky hotel room just a quick cab ride away from the ‘hood. Charity beer pong tourney, look the fuck out.
[By the way, just before press time I confirmed that this is an open event and all are welcome. So if you’re in Philly and looking to get hammered on Saturday afternoon, come to the Froggy Carr Club at 1429 S. Second Street (Phila. Pa 19148). As mentioned, it starts at 2pm and $40 includes (presumably draft) beer, food and t-shirt. You can find me, or ask for Floody.]
[Oh, and if you do decide to come, prepare to lose – I’m taking home the trophy for this one.]
Right before Christmas – like, the day before – my brother asked me if I wanted a Christmas gift the next day that would be “boring” or if I could wait a few weeks for something that could be pretty cool. Of course, I said I wanted the boring gift the next day, preferably right at that very moment if he had it on him. But it turns out that he and my sister (it was a joint gift) had already ordered my potentially cool present, and it would arrive in a few weeks.
The other day, I came home and found a package in my entryway. I opened it up, and found this:
This is a stuffed animal. Of me.
It took me a minute to figure it out, but then I realized: I had just gotten the best Christmas gift ever: me. Stuffed and little. Perfect.
Sure, my hairline is not quite so receding (thanks for that, guys who created this!), but otherwise the resemblance is uncanny. To wit:
I’m guessing this was a possible model for the, well, model, a picture from our annual “Drink Until You Shit” (DUYS) pub crawl in North Wildwood, NJ in July. The only difference is the t-shirts on the pub crawl says “Drink Until You Shit” on the back of them, whereas this has it on the front.
But not only that, if you turn the stuffed me around, look what he has in his hands!
In his left hand is my much-beloved Bud bomber, my drink of choice when it comes to pre-gaming (sometimes alone) for three-six hours while watching VH1 Classic (“Rock Fest” and “Metal Mania,” preferably). And in his right hand is a box of (certainly) my favorite breakfast food and (arguably) my favorite whenever food, creamed chipped beef. Sure, it’s the Stouffer’s variety, but when I’m not in the greater Philadelphia area, that’s what I roll with.
Well.
Let’s just say that I’m not even going to try to top this when buying gifts for Dennis and Megan in the future, because they win. Hands down.
[Better yet, I’m getting pretty into (read: haven’t yet started) writing my second book, and now I have this mini-me to put on my desk and watch over me and keep me in line when I want to take one of my patented quick jerk-off breaks that turn into five weeks because I put my laptop somewhere and lost it.]
But I’m glad I waited on that cool gift, even if I didn’t have a choice. And I know what I’m getting my friends and other family members come this holiday season!
(Stuffed animals of me, of course.)
The other day, I came home and found a package in my entryway. I opened it up, and found this:
This is a stuffed animal. Of me.
It took me a minute to figure it out, but then I realized: I had just gotten the best Christmas gift ever: me. Stuffed and little. Perfect.
Sure, my hairline is not quite so receding (thanks for that, guys who created this!), but otherwise the resemblance is uncanny. To wit:
I’m guessing this was a possible model for the, well, model, a picture from our annual “Drink Until You Shit” (DUYS) pub crawl in North Wildwood, NJ in July. The only difference is the t-shirts on the pub crawl says “Drink Until You Shit” on the back of them, whereas this has it on the front.
But not only that, if you turn the stuffed me around, look what he has in his hands!
In his left hand is my much-beloved Bud bomber, my drink of choice when it comes to pre-gaming (sometimes alone) for three-six hours while watching VH1 Classic (“Rock Fest” and “Metal Mania,” preferably). And in his right hand is a box of (certainly) my favorite breakfast food and (arguably) my favorite whenever food, creamed chipped beef. Sure, it’s the Stouffer’s variety, but when I’m not in the greater Philadelphia area, that’s what I roll with.
Well.
Let’s just say that I’m not even going to try to top this when buying gifts for Dennis and Megan in the future, because they win. Hands down.
[Better yet, I’m getting pretty into (read: haven’t yet started) writing my second book, and now I have this mini-me to put on my desk and watch over me and keep me in line when I want to take one of my patented quick jerk-off breaks that turn into five weeks because I put my laptop somewhere and lost it.]
But I’m glad I waited on that cool gift, even if I didn’t have a choice. And I know what I’m getting my friends and other family members come this holiday season!
(Stuffed animals of me, of course.)
This morning I finalized details for another book club meeting, so I wanted to remind y’all: if you are in a book club in the NYC area and your club reads my book, I’ll gladly come and sit in on your discussion and take questions, sign books, get into the various emotional and psychological problems I have, etc. I’ve done this 20+ times now, and it’s a lot of fun: I bring some discussion questions to hand out, we drink a lot of wine, we share some laughs, and I steal something from your bathroom before the night is over (just kidding) (there is no laughter).
Anyway, if you are interested, just shoot me an email at jason@jasonmulgrew.com.
(For further reading, please go here.)
Anyway, if you are interested, just shoot me an email at jason@jasonmulgrew.com.
(For further reading, please go here.)
Every year, during the opening weekend of the NCAA Tournament, my buddies and I get together for our annual “man weekend” (though we don’t call it that, as that would be stupid). This consists of two parts: taking the day off (or half the day off) on Friday and meeting at someone’s apartment to eat lots of food, drink lots of beer, and watch lots of college basketball; and getting together for our Iron Sheik (that’s our league name) fantasy baseball draft on Saturday.
So, yeah. It’s pretty hard to fuck that up and not to have a good time. Still, this was an especially good one.
On Friday, I took a half day, and me and my buddies (Site Guy) Brendan, John and Bill went to my place in Brooklyn to begin the festivities. But before I got back to my apartment, I stopped a picked up a little sumpin’ sumpin’:
What you’re looking at, ladies and gentlemen, is our standard order for the Friday portion of our annual man weekend. But because it was just the four of us, we halved the order (usually we have about 6-10 on this day, but it was a light year). All told, we got:
- half pound of prosciutto
- half pound of genoa salami
- half pound of hot soppressata
- half pound of sweet soppressata
- half pound of hot capicola
- half pound of pepperoni
- one pound of provolone cheese
- two pounds of fresh mozzarella cheese
- two pounds of roasted red peppers
- two pounds of macaroni salad
- three large rolls
So there’s that. What you see above is what we did on Friday, from 2pm until 1am. To be honest, I don’t recall much from that day, thanks to a nitrate-induced haze, as well as all the Bud Light and constant flipping from game to game to game to game. It was like a time warp.
What I do remember is waking up on Saturday with not even a hint of a hangover (thank you, constant lunchmeat grazing over the course of eleven hours). So at 11am on Saturday morning the four of us went to the LongBow, a lovely Welsh pub on my block, for some breakfast and to watch the Arsenal match and BC basketball game.
The bad news was that BC lost (which I didn’t really care about, as it was the first BC basketball game I watched all year). The bad/ok news was that Arsenal went down 2-0 to a team that might not even be in the Premier League next year, before coming back and playing to a 2-2 draw. The good was this:
That is the LongBow’s bacon egg and cheese breakfast sandwich. The two twists that make the sammy special are that the cheese is melted over the Irish bacon, with two eggs then added on top, and that the bread is this thick “country” white bread that is to die for. A terrific way to start the day.
When the games were over, it was into Manhattan to get ready for the Iron Sheik XXXI draft. For the second year in a row, we met at Foley’s, a baseball-themed bar near Penn Station. And there, from 2pm until 9pm, we drank a lot and ate a lot and watched a lot of basketball (are you noticing a theme here?) and, oh yeah, drafted our teams.
As for my team…we’ll see. The team is listed below, and the numbers in parentheses indicate the rounds in which I drafted that player. Each team had to keep four players, so when I write “(3)”, that means that player was drafted in the third round after keepers, which would be the seventh round overall. Because of in-season trades last year, I had extra picks in the first, second and sixth rounds.
C Víctor Martínez (1b)
1B Luke Scott (14)
2B Chase Utley (K)
SS Hanley Ramírez (K)
3B Evan Longoria (K)
OF Shin-Soo Choo (1a)
OF Jayson Werth (2b)
OF Chris Young (3)
Util Colby Rasmus (5)
Util David Ortiz (11)
Bench Kelly Johnson (9)
Bench Matt Wieters (10)
Bench Chone Figgins (12)
Bench Adam Lind (16)
SP1 David Price (K)
SP2 Cole Hamels (2a)
SP3 Brandon Morrow (4)
SP4 Ted Lilly (6a)
SP5 Josh Beckett (8)
SP6 Jhoulys Chacin (15)
RP1 Neftali Feliz (6b)
RP2 Chris Pérez (7)
RP3 Joel Hanrahan (13)
This is a very, very different team for me. Usually, it’s two starters and one solid closer within the first ten rounds, then the rest of my staff in the later picks. Instead, this year, I drafted only two pitchers after the 8th round: Hanrahan in the 13th and Chacin in the 15th. As such, I’m not sure how to feel.
The good: In an OBP league (we count OBP instead of AVG and TB instead of HR), I’ll take Choo and Werth in those spots any day. I also like that I didn’t have to draft any one-dimensional speed guys, because I’ll be getting some here and there from my regular starters at SS, 3B, and all of my OF; if Utley were healthy, it’s wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say that I have EIGHT guys (Utley, Hanley, Longoria, Choo, Werth, Young, Rasmus, and Johnson) capable of 20-20-ish seasons. Figgins that late was great, because he still walked a bunch last year, will pick up 3B eligibility, and had a decent second half, which should translate into better overall numbers. My last pick, Adam Lind, hit 46 doubles and 35 homers in 2009, so that’s worth a flier.
The bad: I reached for Morrow at the start of the 4th. But he wasn’t making it all the way back to me, and I remember watching his 17 K, two walk, one hit shutout against Tampa Bay last summer, and I fell instantly in love. So it was a reach, but one that I’d probably do again. As for the Wieters pick…this is sort of a running joke in our league, as I’ve been touting Wieters since even before he became the supposed second coming of Christ, but with a better home plate to second base time. Even after getting V-Mart, I took the flier. Meh.
The ugly: Chase Utley’s fucking killing me. When I announced him as a keeper, I had no idea anything was wrong with him. But with no news but bad news, I had to take Kelly Johnson in the 9th, and still wanted to draft Figgins as extra protection. Honestly, I went into this draft with the mindset that I’d get nothing from Utley all year, and drafted accordingly. I mean, fuck.
After the draft ended at 9pm, five of us, including our new buddy, Mike, who answered the bell and joined us for the draft, went back to Bay Ridge and one of my local bars, where we played darts until 3am. It was there that I played darts for the first time, and also learned for the first time that I AM ONE OF THE WORLD’S GREATEST DART PLAYERS. Because apparently all you need to become one of the world’s greatest dart players is to have never played darts before and then had 15+ alcoholic drinks over ten hours. After 31 years, I think I’ve found my sport.
************
And so it was one of my favorite weekends of 2011 so far. But having said that, I’m glad the next one is 51 weeks away. Because I think it’ll take about that long for me to recover.
So, yeah. It’s pretty hard to fuck that up and not to have a good time. Still, this was an especially good one.
On Friday, I took a half day, and me and my buddies (Site Guy) Brendan, John and Bill went to my place in Brooklyn to begin the festivities. But before I got back to my apartment, I stopped a picked up a little sumpin’ sumpin’:
What you’re looking at, ladies and gentlemen, is our standard order for the Friday portion of our annual man weekend. But because it was just the four of us, we halved the order (usually we have about 6-10 on this day, but it was a light year). All told, we got:
- half pound of prosciutto
- half pound of genoa salami
- half pound of hot soppressata
- half pound of sweet soppressata
- half pound of hot capicola
- half pound of pepperoni
- one pound of provolone cheese
- two pounds of fresh mozzarella cheese
- two pounds of roasted red peppers
- two pounds of macaroni salad
- three large rolls
So there’s that. What you see above is what we did on Friday, from 2pm until 1am. To be honest, I don’t recall much from that day, thanks to a nitrate-induced haze, as well as all the Bud Light and constant flipping from game to game to game to game. It was like a time warp.
What I do remember is waking up on Saturday with not even a hint of a hangover (thank you, constant lunchmeat grazing over the course of eleven hours). So at 11am on Saturday morning the four of us went to the LongBow, a lovely Welsh pub on my block, for some breakfast and to watch the Arsenal match and BC basketball game.
The bad news was that BC lost (which I didn’t really care about, as it was the first BC basketball game I watched all year). The bad/ok news was that Arsenal went down 2-0 to a team that might not even be in the Premier League next year, before coming back and playing to a 2-2 draw. The good was this:
That is the LongBow’s bacon egg and cheese breakfast sandwich. The two twists that make the sammy special are that the cheese is melted over the Irish bacon, with two eggs then added on top, and that the bread is this thick “country” white bread that is to die for. A terrific way to start the day.
When the games were over, it was into Manhattan to get ready for the Iron Sheik XXXI draft. For the second year in a row, we met at Foley’s, a baseball-themed bar near Penn Station. And there, from 2pm until 9pm, we drank a lot and ate a lot and watched a lot of basketball (are you noticing a theme here?) and, oh yeah, drafted our teams.
As for my team…we’ll see. The team is listed below, and the numbers in parentheses indicate the rounds in which I drafted that player. Each team had to keep four players, so when I write “(3)”, that means that player was drafted in the third round after keepers, which would be the seventh round overall. Because of in-season trades last year, I had extra picks in the first, second and sixth rounds.
C Víctor Martínez (1b)
1B Luke Scott (14)
2B Chase Utley (K)
SS Hanley Ramírez (K)
3B Evan Longoria (K)
OF Shin-Soo Choo (1a)
OF Jayson Werth (2b)
OF Chris Young (3)
Util Colby Rasmus (5)
Util David Ortiz (11)
Bench Kelly Johnson (9)
Bench Matt Wieters (10)
Bench Chone Figgins (12)
Bench Adam Lind (16)
SP1 David Price (K)
SP2 Cole Hamels (2a)
SP3 Brandon Morrow (4)
SP4 Ted Lilly (6a)
SP5 Josh Beckett (8)
SP6 Jhoulys Chacin (15)
RP1 Neftali Feliz (6b)
RP2 Chris Pérez (7)
RP3 Joel Hanrahan (13)
This is a very, very different team for me. Usually, it’s two starters and one solid closer within the first ten rounds, then the rest of my staff in the later picks. Instead, this year, I drafted only two pitchers after the 8th round: Hanrahan in the 13th and Chacin in the 15th. As such, I’m not sure how to feel.
The good: In an OBP league (we count OBP instead of AVG and TB instead of HR), I’ll take Choo and Werth in those spots any day. I also like that I didn’t have to draft any one-dimensional speed guys, because I’ll be getting some here and there from my regular starters at SS, 3B, and all of my OF; if Utley were healthy, it’s wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to say that I have EIGHT guys (Utley, Hanley, Longoria, Choo, Werth, Young, Rasmus, and Johnson) capable of 20-20-ish seasons. Figgins that late was great, because he still walked a bunch last year, will pick up 3B eligibility, and had a decent second half, which should translate into better overall numbers. My last pick, Adam Lind, hit 46 doubles and 35 homers in 2009, so that’s worth a flier.
The bad: I reached for Morrow at the start of the 4th. But he wasn’t making it all the way back to me, and I remember watching his 17 K, two walk, one hit shutout against Tampa Bay last summer, and I fell instantly in love. So it was a reach, but one that I’d probably do again. As for the Wieters pick…this is sort of a running joke in our league, as I’ve been touting Wieters since even before he became the supposed second coming of Christ, but with a better home plate to second base time. Even after getting V-Mart, I took the flier. Meh.
The ugly: Chase Utley’s fucking killing me. When I announced him as a keeper, I had no idea anything was wrong with him. But with no news but bad news, I had to take Kelly Johnson in the 9th, and still wanted to draft Figgins as extra protection. Honestly, I went into this draft with the mindset that I’d get nothing from Utley all year, and drafted accordingly. I mean, fuck.
After the draft ended at 9pm, five of us, including our new buddy, Mike, who answered the bell and joined us for the draft, went back to Bay Ridge and one of my local bars, where we played darts until 3am. It was there that I played darts for the first time, and also learned for the first time that I AM ONE OF THE WORLD’S GREATEST DART PLAYERS. Because apparently all you need to become one of the world’s greatest dart players is to have never played darts before and then had 15+ alcoholic drinks over ten hours. After 31 years, I think I’ve found my sport.
************
And so it was one of my favorite weekends of 2011 so far. But having said that, I’m glad the next one is 51 weeks away. Because I think it’ll take about that long for me to recover.
Eff St. Patrick’s Day – guess what’s two weeks away?
Actually, baseball is the reason for me being (relatively) MIA lately. As I announced last week, I started work on my annual fantasy baseball spreadsheet. And shit got wild.
Without getting too into it, last year, I ranked 233 hitters (broken down into 34 total tiers) and 134 pitchers (broken down into 14 total tiers). That’s 367 players total, 48 total tiers.
Well.
This year, I ranked 298 hitters, and breaking those down into 48 tiers. As for pitchers, I ranked 186 of them, broken into 18 total tiers. That’s 484 players, 66 total tiers. I actually provided statistics, thought about, and categorized 484 major league baseball players. Jesus Christ.
[This is where I’m supposed to say, “And surprisingly, I’m single.” But I’m not! Sure, I’m still a compulsive masturbator, but I have someone (theoretically) willing to have sex with me, without a substantial amount of money required to change hands. Amazing. Life is just really, really amazing.]
Anyway, that’s what I’ve been doing for the last week, and, though I might update it a little, my fantasy baseball draft prep is finished. And now, we can get back to our regularly scheduled programming. Thank you for your patience.
(Oh, and information on how to get your hands on the sheet is in my previous post.)
The fantasy baseball sheet is coming. We’ll get to this in a minute.
But first, if you live in the NYC area, are serious about fantasy baseball, and are free on the afternoon of Saturday, March 19, I might have a fun opportunity for you.
On that afternoon, my longstanding fantasy baseball league (Iron Sheik) will hold our annual in-person draft at a bar in Manhattan (likely in midtown). Because of an impending birth, a bachelor party, and having to cover the University of Texas basketball team, three guys in the league can’t make the draft. And so we need three people to act as their proxies and draft their teams for them.
What do you get out of it? Well, we get bombed all afternoon, watch college basketball, eat horrendously unhealthy foods, and draft our fantasy baseball teams, all the while shit-talking. This is, hands down, one of my favorite days of the year.
What is required of you, commitment-wise? Well, first I’ll put you in touch with one of the three guys who can’t make it. You two will email, and the absent manager will likely provide either a rough framework for his team in the form of a list or just generally tell you what players he likes or doesn’t like. Then, it’s up to you. (Note that you will not be required to manage or pay any attention to the team during the season – we’d just need you to help draft it on that Saturday afternoon.)
Because of the level of autonomy – and I have to make this very, very clear – you must know your fantasy baseball. Sure, there are more intense leagues than Iron Sheik, but we are no slouches. So while you don’t have to know, for example, the 1 through 5 SPs for the Diamondbacks, you should be able to name three of their starters (or at least two of them – god, that rotation is terrible). So please don’t express interest in this if you’re only somewhat knowledgeable about fantasy baseball or baseball in general – if you draft Russell Martin in the sixth round, we will stone you to death.
(Just kidding.)
(But please, know your shit.)
Here are the specs of the league: mixed-league, ten teams, each team comes into the draft with four keepers, which have already been decided. Draft is 19 rounds, with 23 players per team, or 230 players total. Positions are C, 1B, 2B, 3B, SS, OF, OF, OF, Util, Util for hitters and SP, SP, RP, RP, P, P, P, P for pitchers, along with five bench spots and two DL spots. Rotisserie league with standard five pitching categories (W, SV, K, ERA, WHIP) and R, RBI, SB, Total Bases (instead of HR) and OBP (instead of AVG) for hitters. I think this about covers it.
If you’re interested, please email me. I promise you that, if nothing else, it will be a fun afternoon.
************
And now, the 2011 Fantasy Baseball Super Sheet. This is almost done, and I plan to have it available by Monday. Before I give you the background on the sheet (which many of you already know), I’ll first cover how you can get it: you gotta prove to me that you’ve bought my book.
That’s it. Yes, in previous years, including even last year, we’ve offered the sheet for sale for $10. But no longer. I just want you to buy my book and prove it to me, and then I’ll send you the sheet. You can prove to me that you’ve bought the book by forwarding me a receipt from Amazon, Borders, B&N or wherever, or, if you’ve already purchased it, by sending me a pic of you with the book (nudity is not required, but it is encouraged) (just kidding) (that is, just kidding assuming you’re a dude) or a pic of the receipt. You must send the proof to my alternate email address, eiwwme@gmail.com. Like I said, the sheet won’t be available until Monday, but you can send the email now if you like and I’ll send it when it’s ready. And then you’ll a fun(-ish) book and a fantasy baseball sheet! Talk about a terrific one-two punch.
As for the sheet itself, I’ve been preparing a master Excel spreadsheet of fantasy baseball statistics for many, many years now, and I probably spend about 100 hours total on this thing. The sheet has four tabs (hitters, pitchers, NL and AL team depths charts), and last year I ranked 231 hitters and 134 pitchers, though there are stats in the sheet for a few hundred more players. Again, using last year as an example because this year’s is still being refined, there were 41 columns/statistical metrics for pitchers and 26 for hitters (hitters are easier and require less work), including notes about how is in a walk year and who qualifies at multiple positions. In short, it’s badass, and you can’t get this much fantasy baseball information at your fingertips anywhere else on the web.
And as I said, it’s not just statistics: you’re getting my ranks. I break (and for years have broken) the rankings into tiers (SS 1, SS 2, etc), but there is special column for guys I “like,” which is to say that I believe these players will perform better than their draft position indicates. This is where I make my money, y’all. In last year’s sheet, for the 2010 season I liked:
Hitters: Adrian Beltre, Rajai Davis, David Ortiz, Juan Pierre, Geo Soto, Vlad, to name a few. Oh, and three outfielders who turned out pretty good: Carlos Gonzalez, Josh Hamilton, and Chris Young.
Pitchers: Clay Buchholz, Cole Hamels, Ubaldo Jimenez, Clayton Kershaw, Mat Latos, Francisco Liriano, David Price, Max Scherzer. If you had drafted any four of those eight, let’s just say your staff would have been in pretty, pretty good shape.
Of course, I’m cherry-picking here (some of my hitters recs – Justin Upton, Kendry Morales, Nelson Cruz, Justin Morneau and, gulp, Grady Sizemore, among them – were really battered or hampered by injuries), but for those of you who got the sheet last year, go ahead and look it over. You’ll see that, well, I really know my shit, and why one month’s rent per year is paid by my fantasy baseball winnings. Fucking love this shit.
************
So there you have it. If you’re in NYC, love fantasy baseball and are free on Saturday afternoon, March 19, let’s draft together. Otherwise, if you just want the sheet, send me proof that you bought my little book to eiwwme@gmail.com and I’ll start sending out copies of the sheet on Monday.
But first, if you live in the NYC area, are serious about fantasy baseball, and are free on the afternoon of Saturday, March 19, I might have a fun opportunity for you.
On that afternoon, my longstanding fantasy baseball league (Iron Sheik) will hold our annual in-person draft at a bar in Manhattan (likely in midtown). Because of an impending birth, a bachelor party, and having to cover the University of Texas basketball team, three guys in the league can’t make the draft. And so we need three people to act as their proxies and draft their teams for them.
What do you get out of it? Well, we get bombed all afternoon, watch college basketball, eat horrendously unhealthy foods, and draft our fantasy baseball teams, all the while shit-talking. This is, hands down, one of my favorite days of the year.
What is required of you, commitment-wise? Well, first I’ll put you in touch with one of the three guys who can’t make it. You two will email, and the absent manager will likely provide either a rough framework for his team in the form of a list or just generally tell you what players he likes or doesn’t like. Then, it’s up to you. (Note that you will not be required to manage or pay any attention to the team during the season – we’d just need you to help draft it on that Saturday afternoon.)
Because of the level of autonomy – and I have to make this very, very clear – you must know your fantasy baseball. Sure, there are more intense leagues than Iron Sheik, but we are no slouches. So while you don’t have to know, for example, the 1 through 5 SPs for the Diamondbacks, you should be able to name three of their starters (or at least two of them – god, that rotation is terrible). So please don’t express interest in this if you’re only somewhat knowledgeable about fantasy baseball or baseball in general – if you draft Russell Martin in the sixth round, we will stone you to death.
(Just kidding.)
(But please, know your shit.)
Here are the specs of the league: mixed-league, ten teams, each team comes into the draft with four keepers, which have already been decided. Draft is 19 rounds, with 23 players per team, or 230 players total. Positions are C, 1B, 2B, 3B, SS, OF, OF, OF, Util, Util for hitters and SP, SP, RP, RP, P, P, P, P for pitchers, along with five bench spots and two DL spots. Rotisserie league with standard five pitching categories (W, SV, K, ERA, WHIP) and R, RBI, SB, Total Bases (instead of HR) and OBP (instead of AVG) for hitters. I think this about covers it.
If you’re interested, please email me. I promise you that, if nothing else, it will be a fun afternoon.
************
And now, the 2011 Fantasy Baseball Super Sheet. This is almost done, and I plan to have it available by Monday. Before I give you the background on the sheet (which many of you already know), I’ll first cover how you can get it: you gotta prove to me that you’ve bought my book.
That’s it. Yes, in previous years, including even last year, we’ve offered the sheet for sale for $10. But no longer. I just want you to buy my book and prove it to me, and then I’ll send you the sheet. You can prove to me that you’ve bought the book by forwarding me a receipt from Amazon, Borders, B&N or wherever, or, if you’ve already purchased it, by sending me a pic of you with the book (nudity is not required, but it is encouraged) (just kidding) (that is, just kidding assuming you’re a dude) or a pic of the receipt. You must send the proof to my alternate email address, eiwwme@gmail.com. Like I said, the sheet won’t be available until Monday, but you can send the email now if you like and I’ll send it when it’s ready. And then you’ll a fun(-ish) book and a fantasy baseball sheet! Talk about a terrific one-two punch.
As for the sheet itself, I’ve been preparing a master Excel spreadsheet of fantasy baseball statistics for many, many years now, and I probably spend about 100 hours total on this thing. The sheet has four tabs (hitters, pitchers, NL and AL team depths charts), and last year I ranked 231 hitters and 134 pitchers, though there are stats in the sheet for a few hundred more players. Again, using last year as an example because this year’s is still being refined, there were 41 columns/statistical metrics for pitchers and 26 for hitters (hitters are easier and require less work), including notes about how is in a walk year and who qualifies at multiple positions. In short, it’s badass, and you can’t get this much fantasy baseball information at your fingertips anywhere else on the web.
And as I said, it’s not just statistics: you’re getting my ranks. I break (and for years have broken) the rankings into tiers (SS 1, SS 2, etc), but there is special column for guys I “like,” which is to say that I believe these players will perform better than their draft position indicates. This is where I make my money, y’all. In last year’s sheet, for the 2010 season I liked:
Hitters: Adrian Beltre, Rajai Davis, David Ortiz, Juan Pierre, Geo Soto, Vlad, to name a few. Oh, and three outfielders who turned out pretty good: Carlos Gonzalez, Josh Hamilton, and Chris Young.
Pitchers: Clay Buchholz, Cole Hamels, Ubaldo Jimenez, Clayton Kershaw, Mat Latos, Francisco Liriano, David Price, Max Scherzer. If you had drafted any four of those eight, let’s just say your staff would have been in pretty, pretty good shape.
Of course, I’m cherry-picking here (some of my hitters recs – Justin Upton, Kendry Morales, Nelson Cruz, Justin Morneau and, gulp, Grady Sizemore, among them – were really battered or hampered by injuries), but for those of you who got the sheet last year, go ahead and look it over. You’ll see that, well, I really know my shit, and why one month’s rent per year is paid by my fantasy baseball winnings. Fucking love this shit.
************
So there you have it. If you’re in NYC, love fantasy baseball and are free on Saturday afternoon, March 19, let’s draft together. Otherwise, if you just want the sheet, send me proof that you bought my little book to eiwwme@gmail.com and I’ll start sending out copies of the sheet on Monday.
What I love about my neighborhood (Bay Ridge, Brooklyn) is that it was seemingly designed with me in mind.
Cheap bars and pubs? Oh, yeah. There’s the charming JJ Bubbles, which has cheap (and I mean, cheap) drinks and the most hipster décor (brass instruments and 70’s beer paraphernalia hanging everywhere) but doesn’t even know it; the LongBow, a Welsh pub on my very street at which I eat at least twice a week, including on the weekends to enjoy the full English breakfast or arguably the best bacon-egg-cheese sandwich I’ve ever had, and which also has terrific beer list (and growlers to go!); and just up the road there are Kitty Kiernan’s and Pipin’s, two places in which I’m pretty sure I could live forever.
The food is terrific. Gino’s pizza (and Italian food) is practically a landmark. Each time I eat the vodka sauce (usually with gnocchi) or the square slices at Vesuvio’s, I am convinced that Jesus Christ Himself had a hand in making them. Though I’m still searching for a delicious but divey Mexican place (in the “so awesome that it makes the anal aneurysm that you have immediately after finishing the meal worth it” sense), Mezcal’s is a very good, slightly classy Mexican joint that hits the spot. Hot Wok is the best Chinese food I’ve ever had, the cheesesteak at Pepino’s is an eight on a good day, and the Burger Bistro has done to the burger what the Meatball Shop did to the meatball (and it has ice cream sandwiches, too!). There are three diners within a ten minute walk of my apartment, and Bagel Boy, just up the street, not only has great breakfast sammies but is open 24 hours on the weekends (not listed on the menu is the unfortunately named “Big Blue” sandwich – breaded chicken cutlet, swiss, Russian dressing, lettuce, tomato, onion). Finally, though I think it’s mandatory that you get punched in the face by one of Bay Ridge’s finest surly 20-something ginzo residents immediately upon entering the bar on the weekends, there is no denying the wings at Kettle Black are huge and delicious (love the big bear sauce).
And perhaps most importantly for me, sweets. There are three Carvels within a short walk, one of which is a Carvel/Cinnabon (yes, you read that right). There is a Haagen Dazs. There is a Cold Stone. And there is the Little Cupcake Bakeshop. I can’t think about this place without trembling in ecstasy, thus making it difficult for me to type, so I’ll just leave it at that.
(I’m tempted to make the joke that the banana pudding at Little Cupcake is actually the Ejaculate of God, but I won’t. Not because it’s gross, but because I already made a religious reference when I said Jesus works at Vesuvio’s. Gotta spread the joke subject matter around, people.)
Why am I telling you all of this? For one, I’m a fattie. For two (?), last night my lady and I went out to a place we hadn’t yet tried, and this happened:
This is our meal from Schnitzel Haus. And, my friends, things will never be the same.
For all the things the Germans may have screwed up in the past, one thing that they have totally right is eating and drinking. Beef, pork, veal, sausage, potatoes, pretzels, (big) beers – check, check, check, check, check, check and…check. To be honest, we’ve known of this place’s existence since we moved in, and I’m surprised it’s taken us so long to get there.
But none of that matters now. We didn’t bother with apps, and got right into it. Despite my pleas for her to get something more adventurous, my girlfriend wanted something “safe” and ordered the boring Haehnchenschnitzel, a boneless, breaded chicken cutlet that came with a salad and fries. I went the opposite direction and decided to let my (apparently phallic-loving) freak out, and ordered the Wurstteller mit allem Drum and Dran, a sample platter of five sausages – smoked bratwurst on the bottom; bratwurst, knackwurst and veal weisswurst in the middle; and Bauernwurstteller (“Farmers sausage”) on top – served with mashed potatoes, red cabbage, sauerkraut and two mustards.
Let’s start with her Haehnchenschnitzel: amazing. I know that it’s hard to go wrong with (more or less) fried chicken, but the breading was so light and the chicken so tender and juicy I wanted to put the two (giant) slabs of chicken on my face so we could just…be…together. The curly fries were a nice touch (who doesn’t love curly fries?).
As for the sausages, holy shitballs. If I had to rank them in order, it would probably go bratwurst, smoked bratwurst (close one-two), Bauernwurstteller, knackwurst (close three-four), weisswurst (still really, really good, but my girlfriend kept remarking on its pale gray color so much that it guaranteed the poor sausage fifth place). I don’t know what else to say other than man is seldom closer to God than when he takes a slice of sausage, covers it in red cabbage and sauerkraut and mustard, and then dips it into a pile of mashed potatoes before sending it on that magical journey from his mouth to his belly. Amen.
(And have I mentioned the beer? Two half-liters of a German beer that’s not on their online menu and whose name escapes me and a Kronenbourg, which I enjoy if for no other reason than it’s the beer I lived off of while studying abroad in London (because it was cheap). I was in heaven.)
Without being overly dramatic, here’s how moved I was by this meal: I CAME BACK TO MY PLACE AND STARTING LOOKING AT APARTMENTS FOR SALE IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD. And I don’t think this is a passing phase – that food was so good that it may have just tipped the scale in favor of Bay Ridge and I settling down and getting serious. Rare is the man who will purchase a home based on his experience with a sausage, but, ladies and gentlemen, I may just be that man.
************
So I guess what I’m trying to say that if you’re looking for some great German food and you find yourself in south Brooklyn – or if you’re looking to make a night out of eating sausages and drinking liters – you should probably go to Schnitzel Haus. If you are not a total fucking retard, you will really, really love it.
Cheap bars and pubs? Oh, yeah. There’s the charming JJ Bubbles, which has cheap (and I mean, cheap) drinks and the most hipster décor (brass instruments and 70’s beer paraphernalia hanging everywhere) but doesn’t even know it; the LongBow, a Welsh pub on my very street at which I eat at least twice a week, including on the weekends to enjoy the full English breakfast or arguably the best bacon-egg-cheese sandwich I’ve ever had, and which also has terrific beer list (and growlers to go!); and just up the road there are Kitty Kiernan’s and Pipin’s, two places in which I’m pretty sure I could live forever.
The food is terrific. Gino’s pizza (and Italian food) is practically a landmark. Each time I eat the vodka sauce (usually with gnocchi) or the square slices at Vesuvio’s, I am convinced that Jesus Christ Himself had a hand in making them. Though I’m still searching for a delicious but divey Mexican place (in the “so awesome that it makes the anal aneurysm that you have immediately after finishing the meal worth it” sense), Mezcal’s is a very good, slightly classy Mexican joint that hits the spot. Hot Wok is the best Chinese food I’ve ever had, the cheesesteak at Pepino’s is an eight on a good day, and the Burger Bistro has done to the burger what the Meatball Shop did to the meatball (and it has ice cream sandwiches, too!). There are three diners within a ten minute walk of my apartment, and Bagel Boy, just up the street, not only has great breakfast sammies but is open 24 hours on the weekends (not listed on the menu is the unfortunately named “Big Blue” sandwich – breaded chicken cutlet, swiss, Russian dressing, lettuce, tomato, onion). Finally, though I think it’s mandatory that you get punched in the face by one of Bay Ridge’s finest surly 20-something ginzo residents immediately upon entering the bar on the weekends, there is no denying the wings at Kettle Black are huge and delicious (love the big bear sauce).
And perhaps most importantly for me, sweets. There are three Carvels within a short walk, one of which is a Carvel/Cinnabon (yes, you read that right). There is a Haagen Dazs. There is a Cold Stone. And there is the Little Cupcake Bakeshop. I can’t think about this place without trembling in ecstasy, thus making it difficult for me to type, so I’ll just leave it at that.
(I’m tempted to make the joke that the banana pudding at Little Cupcake is actually the Ejaculate of God, but I won’t. Not because it’s gross, but because I already made a religious reference when I said Jesus works at Vesuvio’s. Gotta spread the joke subject matter around, people.)
Why am I telling you all of this? For one, I’m a fattie. For two (?), last night my lady and I went out to a place we hadn’t yet tried, and this happened:
This is our meal from Schnitzel Haus. And, my friends, things will never be the same.
For all the things the Germans may have screwed up in the past, one thing that they have totally right is eating and drinking. Beef, pork, veal, sausage, potatoes, pretzels, (big) beers – check, check, check, check, check, check and…check. To be honest, we’ve known of this place’s existence since we moved in, and I’m surprised it’s taken us so long to get there.
But none of that matters now. We didn’t bother with apps, and got right into it. Despite my pleas for her to get something more adventurous, my girlfriend wanted something “safe” and ordered the boring Haehnchenschnitzel, a boneless, breaded chicken cutlet that came with a salad and fries. I went the opposite direction and decided to let my (apparently phallic-loving) freak out, and ordered the Wurstteller mit allem Drum and Dran, a sample platter of five sausages – smoked bratwurst on the bottom; bratwurst, knackwurst and veal weisswurst in the middle; and Bauernwurstteller (“Farmers sausage”) on top – served with mashed potatoes, red cabbage, sauerkraut and two mustards.
Let’s start with her Haehnchenschnitzel: amazing. I know that it’s hard to go wrong with (more or less) fried chicken, but the breading was so light and the chicken so tender and juicy I wanted to put the two (giant) slabs of chicken on my face so we could just…be…together. The curly fries were a nice touch (who doesn’t love curly fries?).
As for the sausages, holy shitballs. If I had to rank them in order, it would probably go bratwurst, smoked bratwurst (close one-two), Bauernwurstteller, knackwurst (close three-four), weisswurst (still really, really good, but my girlfriend kept remarking on its pale gray color so much that it guaranteed the poor sausage fifth place). I don’t know what else to say other than man is seldom closer to God than when he takes a slice of sausage, covers it in red cabbage and sauerkraut and mustard, and then dips it into a pile of mashed potatoes before sending it on that magical journey from his mouth to his belly. Amen.
(And have I mentioned the beer? Two half-liters of a German beer that’s not on their online menu and whose name escapes me and a Kronenbourg, which I enjoy if for no other reason than it’s the beer I lived off of while studying abroad in London (because it was cheap). I was in heaven.)
Without being overly dramatic, here’s how moved I was by this meal: I CAME BACK TO MY PLACE AND STARTING LOOKING AT APARTMENTS FOR SALE IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD. And I don’t think this is a passing phase – that food was so good that it may have just tipped the scale in favor of Bay Ridge and I settling down and getting serious. Rare is the man who will purchase a home based on his experience with a sausage, but, ladies and gentlemen, I may just be that man.
************
So I guess what I’m trying to say that if you’re looking for some great German food and you find yourself in south Brooklyn – or if you’re looking to make a night out of eating sausages and drinking liters – you should probably go to Schnitzel Haus. If you are not a total fucking retard, you will really, really love it.
Today is the birthday of my book, which came out one year ago today.
(Oh, you’ve grown up so much, you have!)
In lieu of buying me gifts or shots or cupcakes, a few things you can do to help celebrate this Momentous Occasion of My Authorship Et Cetera:
1a) Buy a copy (duh).
1b) Buy a personalized, signed copy (makes great gift!).
2) Write a (positive, please) review of the book (if you fancy yourself the critic-type and are super bored at work).
3) Recommend it once today. Just once. Maybe to a co-worker you know who likes reading (or just looking at pictures), or by tweeting or mentioning it on your own blog, or pimping it on your Facebook/MySpace/Friendster/Ashley Madison page(s). Just one recommendation is all.
But most importantly, thank you for the support over the past year, and thanks to all those who bought the book or read the book or didn’t totally hate the book or came to one of my events around the country (or in London). I love you. I really do, and I’m looking forward to writing you a terrific (new) book in the next few months.
(Oh, you’ve grown up so much, you have!)
In lieu of buying me gifts or shots or cupcakes, a few things you can do to help celebrate this Momentous Occasion of My Authorship Et Cetera:
1a) Buy a copy (duh).
1b) Buy a personalized, signed copy (makes great gift!).
2) Write a (positive, please) review of the book (if you fancy yourself the critic-type and are super bored at work).
3) Recommend it once today. Just once. Maybe to a co-worker you know who likes reading (or just looking at pictures), or by tweeting or mentioning it on your own blog, or pimping it on your Facebook/MySpace/Friendster/Ashley Madison page(s). Just one recommendation is all.
But most importantly, thank you for the support over the past year, and thanks to all those who bought the book or read the book or didn’t totally hate the book or came to one of my events around the country (or in London). I love you. I really do, and I’m looking forward to writing you a terrific (new) book in the next few months.
And now it’s time for a game I invented (seriously, look it up – I was doing this shizz when you still had an aol.com email address): the following are search terms entered into Google or other search engines that brought people here in the month of February. Note I had to stop at 15, or else we could keep going for a looooong time. Also note that people are in the internet are total fucking perverts.
[My comments are in brackets.]
- big cock grew.com [My nickname in high school. IN MY DREAMS!]
- cinnamon flavored condom [A little tangential, but, I mean, no one but prostitutes put condoms in their mouths, right?]
- how can i get a handjob from a stripper [If you have to go to google to find an answer for this, I wouldn’t hold your breath for that stripper handjob.]
- how gay is paul Stanley [Tell me about it!]
- huge boobs earphones [What is, “Things My Father Got Me For Christmas in 1997?”]
- is billy joel uncircumcised [No idea, but I really, really want to find the answer. And also meet the person who’s googling this.]
- jason milgrew girlfriend [Close.]
- jayson mulgrew [Also close.]
- jenny lewis boobs [Actually, I think I did this search.]
- “making love and pancakes” [God, I hope this is the name of a song.]
- my mom likes to watch me masturbate [God, I hope this is the name of a film.]
- “pissed the bed” Oktoberfest [Guilty.]
- psychology of sopranos blowjobs [I’m so perplexed by this one that I can’t even make a joke. But I’m going to guess the person who googled this has had sex with less than three people.]
- should i end my engagement [If you’re looking for that answer on my site, yes. 100% yes.]
- turd “to admire my” flushed [Wait, I think I did this one, too.]
- washing sexy baby [Perv.]
[My comments are in brackets.]
- big cock grew.com [My nickname in high school. IN MY DREAMS!]
- cinnamon flavored condom [A little tangential, but, I mean, no one but prostitutes put condoms in their mouths, right?]
- how can i get a handjob from a stripper [If you have to go to google to find an answer for this, I wouldn’t hold your breath for that stripper handjob.]
- how gay is paul Stanley [Tell me about it!]
- huge boobs earphones [What is, “Things My Father Got Me For Christmas in 1997?”]
- is billy joel uncircumcised [No idea, but I really, really want to find the answer. And also meet the person who’s googling this.]
- jason milgrew girlfriend [Close.]
- jayson mulgrew [Also close.]
- jenny lewis boobs [Actually, I think I did this search.]
- “making love and pancakes” [God, I hope this is the name of a song.]
- my mom likes to watch me masturbate [God, I hope this is the name of a film.]
- “pissed the bed” Oktoberfest [Guilty.]
- psychology of sopranos blowjobs [I’m so perplexed by this one that I can’t even make a joke. But I’m going to guess the person who googled this has had sex with less than three people.]
- should i end my engagement [If you’re looking for that answer on my site, yes. 100% yes.]
- turd “to admire my” flushed [Wait, I think I did this one, too.]
- washing sexy baby [Perv.]