What's the big ideafart?

You would think that Jack Black appearing on American Idol would make me hate him... I don't hate him. He was raising awareness for something, and he made Paula Abdul look like an idiot. KG was there too. Watch this.

Chicagofarts

Weddingfarts is in Chicago.  I used to live in Chicago.  I wanted Weddingfarts to come visit so we could eat Chicago.  He's going to have to eat it himself.  I hope he eats the right pizza, and I hope he ignores the hot dogs.

Bubbly Soda Fart

I spent this morning fixing a web server issue at the Coca-Cola headquarters in downtown Atlanta. There is a guest parking lot and a shuttle that drives you to the main building. At the shuttle stop is a Coca-Cola vending machine. I was curious how much a bottle of Coke costs in the Coca-Cola parking lot so I walked over to the machine. There was a small scrolling LED display on the vending machine. The words "Enjoy Coca-Cola" scrolled slowly across the screen followed by the word: "FREE" I pressed the button for Dasani water and immediately a fresh, cold bottle rattled out of the machine. Imagine that.

Old Man Patchfarts

I may or may not be going to Chicago today for a conference of lawyers. Why do I not know yet? Because I'm a lawyer. I live on the edge.

That's not the point. The point is what I decided to pack: a sports jacket. It seemed like the most appropriate thing to do. I've never packed a sports jacket before. Granted, I've owned this particular sports jacket since I was 16. But packing it still counts towards my old man patch.

A Bathroom Adventure Fart

I use my cell phone when I'm on the toilet. I use it look up sports scores. I read the news. I play Texas Hold'em King 2. I break records in Brick Breaker (last week I beat every single board).

During the clean-up phase, I always place my cell phone on a small metal ledge that is bolted onto the wall a couple of inches above the toilet paper. It is the perfect place to temporarily store my phone. It is dry, level, and out of the way. Sometimes I wonder whether or not the metal ledge was installed just for this purpose.

Today, I did the unthinkable. I left my phone on the metal ledge. I did not realize this until I got all the way back to my desk. I jumped up and walked at an extremely brisk pace back to the bathroom. The stall had already been re-occupied by an unknown co-worker. That's when things got awkward. I stood in the middle of the bathroom and boomed, "Did I leave my Blackberry on the metal shelf above the toilet paper?" After what felt like an eternity, an embarrassed voice responded, "ummm...I don't see it."

I returned to my desk to regroup. I decided to wait a couple of minutes and then return to the stall. It was now empty, but no phone. I checked the sink area. No phone. Flustered, I left the bathroom and walked down the hall to the receptionist.

"Did someone turn in a cell phone?" I asked. She nodded and reached into her drawer. With her thumb and pointer finger, she pinched the phone and dangled it in front of me. Our eyes connected and she made a funny face. We both knew where the phone had been. It was a very embarrassing moment. I delicately removed the phone from her fingers, mumbled "thank you," and quickly walked away.

It felt as if my least favorite team had hit four home runs in a row against my favorite team and then wedding farts took advantage of my weak moment to rub it in....

A Tuesday You Can Feel Good About

You've probably wondered at some point why Tuesdays have felt just so, well, empty, since February. Is it the lack of snow? The long, sunny days?

Wonder no longer. We've simply been missing TMQ. But, luckily, it's back.

UPDATE: Nevermind. It's not very informative or funny this week.

My lunches

My lunches have been so boring lately.  It's really painful.  .Gov's, I'm looking for help here.  Help me.  Give me ideas of what to have for lunch.  If it helps my zip code is 91356.  Here are the rules:

Between 7-10 dollars

Not Subway hell

Organic bastards are a possibility, but not their big ass organic supermarket.

Winning lunch picture will be posted soon.

How's that for something to get you through a long lonely Tuesday?

Nothing to See Here

Don't worry. The Sports Guy just doomed the Red Sox to another crappy season losing to the Yankees.

Not the Baseball Post.

Hello weddingfarters. Do you know how sometimes you have a big thing to do, like clean your entire apartment, but then you also have lots of little things you should probably do too, like the dishes, but you don't do the little things because you say, well, if I'm going to spend my time with the dishes, I really should just clean the whole place, but then you don't do the big things because they're just too big for any moment when you think you should maybe do them (and because you are lazy and tired and hungry), and then the little things turn into big things too?

Do you know about that? Well, that's the way it is with me and the baseball post. It's coming. Don't worry. I'm just sorry that I let it stop me from telling you what I've been eating for lunch. Today I had the good roast beef sandwich, but I ruined it by getting cucumber on it in addition to the normal lettuce, tomato, mustard, and mayo. Cucumbers are delicious, but they block the mayo from coating the roast beef, threaten to slip out of the sandwich and get mayo on your pants (didn't happen though!), and generally don't belong in a sandwich. Well, now you know that too. Then I had baked lays, which I don't like, but sailor jacket likes, so I thought I'd see if I was wrong about that. I may be. I'll have to try again.

You should also know that on Saturday I went to the fish market for a half-pound of cajun peel n' eats. This place deserves its own post as well.

This is about baseball, but it's not the baseball post: I was very happy that I was watching the Red Sox game last night when they scored four home runs in a row. It's one of those things that you could hear about later but not fully appreciate because you already know what's going to happen. Instead, I watched it unfold and was a bit besides myself. I was also very happy that I was watching it at home so I could play it again and again.

And, for your information, I've been feeling kind of nervous all day. Like stomach-funny nervous. I think it's because of the NFL draft.

True inspirationfarts

If we could do what this guy has done.

Where Gmail sent me today

Gmail has advertisements at the top of the page.  Here's where today's Gmail advertisement sent me. 

What was left off my Turkey Sandwich

I went to the fancy grocery store to get my sandwich today.  I went there for two reasons:

1.  Boar's head deli selections
2.  The big bags of baked Lays

I ordered my turkey sandwich as usual.  Light Mayo, mustard, lettuce, tomato, and here's where I made my mistake...  I said "everything else".  I think that at the fancy grocery store, which coincidentally does not even claim to be an organic bastard haven,  everything else means nothing. 

My sandwich has lettuce, tomato, turkey, mayo, and mustard.  No avocado, pickles, or sprouts.  Including those items would have been "everything else".

It's entirely possible that fancy grocery store was schooled in sandwich making by Subway Hell today.

Black Presidents: Obama and Arenas in 2008

I'm getting one of these T-shirts for sure. Anyone else?

videofarts?

There is little to no chance that this video will work. If it does it's pretty funny. Little kids cursing is probably one of the funnier things. I used to make my brother say asshole when he was 2.

On a Happier Note

I was recently informed by the Canadian that there was a special fact about the Folklorist that I did not previously know: the Folklorist had, at some point in the past, comprehensively researched the offerings of wings in the DC metro area, including Maryland and Virginia.

Understand: this was no small undertaking. This involved lots of driving. This involved eating wings several times a week. This involved eating some very, very mediocre wings. At the end of the day, the Folklorist had visited upwards of 33 wing establishments.

We talked, the Folklorist and I, about all of this on Sunday. She tends towards the crispy in wings as well, and also values a good vaspy sauce. I was informed that mumbo wings are delicious. I regaled her with stories of country sweet. Apparently the best wings are in Reston, although she mentioned that there were very serviceable take out wings available in Georgetown as well. I was excited, Folklorist was excited, and Canadian was concerned.

Well, what could you do after a conversation like that? Only one thing: eat wings. The Folklorist knew her stuff. The take out place not only let you order online, but they clearly knew their wings. You could specify in your online order that you want drumsticks only (no!), flats only (imagine!), extra crispy (good), or extra "wet" (facilitates easy eating of flats, it turns out). Understand what I'm saying: the site actually used the word "flats." Check it out yerself.

They had a full range of sauce options-- including mumbo, but that's for another day-- and dipping options. Excellent steak fries as well, although I have yet to encounter a wing place outside the homeland that also serves the traditional doughy pizza accompaniment. Canadian and I dug in, and then we all learned about temple wing farts, which are a whole other story.

I Don't Want to Talk About It Farts

There are some things that need to be shared, and then never again mentioned.

Last night, the Canadian and I were walking to the train. A rat ran over both of our feet. We both agreed that there was a distinct, indelible feeling to the experience. It's not worth describing. It's nothing you need to really know about.

And we all must never, ever talk about this again.

pocketcallfarts

That's never really happened to me before.  I took my phone out of my pocket and it had magically called weddingfarts.  Sorry weddingfarts.

Unintentional Funny Farts

We here at weddingfarts have little to add to the Imus fiasco of last week. It is best, instead, to let Peter King have the last word:

Even if he personally cured cancer, the fact is you can't have people on public airwaves calling fine black woman prostitutes. That is intolerable.

We agree: those calls have no place on the radio.

Wegmans, 1-0

I just watched Wegmans beat Whole Foods and Trader Joes in this dumb competition on national TV.

Which is just to say, now everyone else knows too.

Ghetto Burger

--------------------------------------------------------
WARNING: gentle .gov's and vegetarians - this blog is
a graphic re-creation of a cheese burger experience. If
you do not eat meat, cheese, bacon, or any combination
there of, please read this post at your own risk:
--------------------------------------------------------

Every so often you experience something so big, so different, so stunning, that it changes the way you look at cheese burgers forever. Yesterday, I had one of those experiences. Yesterday, I met Ms. Ann.

To preface this story, we have been hearing rumors about Ms. Ann and her burgers since March when The Wall Street Journal published this article on the best burgers in America. Ms. Ann's Ghetto Burger topped the list. It was Y2K's birthday and we wanted an experience. We took the afternoon off work and called up a couple of our most adventurous friends. Thus our journey began...

Ms. Ann is a grumpy old grandmother. She owns and runs Ann's Snack Bar, a dive located on a run-down street just East of Atlanta. The snack bar has been open for decades. It consists of 8 stools on one side of a counter and Ms. Ann on the other. Only 8 people at a time are allowed into the restaurant, including people who have to-go orders. Ms. Ann does not start cooking your meal until you order. The burgers are slow cooked, the bacon is deep fried, the buns are toasted, and the tomatoes are sliced right before your eyes. The entire process takes about 30 minutes. The burgers are massive and take approximately 15 minutes to eat.

We arrived at 1:15 and there were 15 people in front of us. We were told that the people inside had been in there for about 20 minutes. That meant a total estimated wait time of one hour and 55 minutes. So we waited.

The crowd outside the snack bar was amazing. There was a guy who said he played for the Colts and for the Falcons and couldn't stop talking about how bad African American athletes had it. "When Vick gets a felony," he explained, "little Johnnie's parents throw away his jersey. But when Rodriguez gets in trouble, it's a whole 'nother story." There was a couple from Buckhead with fancy watches and designer sun-glasses who had obviously heard about Ms. Ann from the same source as us. My favorites, however, were the locals that have been coming to experience Ms. Ann long before the Wall Street Journal article. They kept us entertained with rich stories of the restaurant. They laughed about how strict Ms. Ann was and the rules that you needed to follow within her establishment. She has thrown people out of the restaurant for small offences such as "cussin'", for talking on their cell phone, and for being indecisive. They reminisced about the good old days and laughed about the variety of people that are coming to the restaurant now, including the rich Buckhead couple.

Two hours later, a couple of seats opened up and we walked into the restaurant. We quietly took our seats and waited for Ms. Ann to take our order. We each ordered a Hood Burger which is a Ghetto Burger (double bacon chili cheese) topped with a huge scoop of coleslaw. Ms. Ann liked us and gave us french fries and sweet tea to consume while we were waiting. She gives everyone french fries and sweet tea to consume while they are waiting, but she smiled at us, which is how I know that she liked us. This is what Ms. Ann looks like:



It was very calm inside the restaurant. Ms. Ann does not tolerate loud speakers, and she moves slowly and deliberately through her kitchen. It is as if yours is the only burger that she is making for the afternoon. After 30 minutes of great smells and sights, were were served this:



The 2 pounds of seasoned meat was littered with grilled onions. The crispy deep fried bacon added a nice crunch and the creamy coleslaw was the perfect contrast to the spicy chili. Very few people can finish this beast of a burger, and only myself and Y2K (the other Rochesterian in the group) were up for the task. Rochester is #1. Then Y2K bet me $50 to finish Michigan's burger, which I made look easy.

Here is my secret - I take a big bite and then sip sweat tea. As I chew, the tea helps turn the burger and bun into a smooth mush. The mush flows easily down my throat and quickly through my stomach. Once it has made it's way through, my stomach is ready for the next big bite. Also, the faster you can stuff the food into your mouth the better - it takes your body a little bit of time to tell your brain that you are full.

Almost 24 hours since my last bite, I can still smell, taste, and feel the burger. It was everything I have ever dreamt of in a burger and some things that I have never dreamt possible. Today I feel slightly dizzy and nausious, and I don't expect my body to be back to normal for another day or two. But I don't regret anything. This was the best overall burger experience of my entire life.

I leave you with this final image of pure heaven on a bun:

Free Lunch Friday Farts

It has been a while since I've had a free lunch friday fart to report. That's not because we here at weddingfarts don't want to keep you informed, gentle .gov, it's just that salmon doesn't make the cut (as you know, we have very high standards around here).

But today was different.

The menu: cornbread, salad with two types of tomatoes, mac & cheese, coleslaw, barbequed chicken, medium rare tenderloin, delicious brownies, watermelon, and pineapple.

As you might imagine, the lawyers were thrilled. Plates were piled high and there were astonished smiles all around. We all said: while the surprise was nice, the whole week would've been better if we known it was going to end in delicious free lunch.

And the downside: now that we know what lunch is capable of, the next time we are served salmon will be so disappointing.

waterfarts?

Yesterday I was on a plane with fiancee. We were coming back from Chicago. We were really thirsty, so fiancee asked the friendly flight attendant for some water. The flight attendant brought us something that completely confounded me. She brought us 2 cans of water. I didn't know what to do with it. I felt like a child with a confusing toy. A really confusing toy. I'd never seen it before.

I had a lot of questions, but first I needed to take a picture of the can of water with my computer. Mac bitches.

I read the whole can. It didn't say anything about anti-rust. The nutrititional information was all zero's.

I cracked open my can of water and took a sip. Much like the potato leak soup that looked like applesauce but didn't taste like applesauce the can of water confused the shit out of me. I think my brain is wired to expect that when I lift a frosty can it will be a satisfying and refreshing Diet Coke. But it was just water. Fucking water! I am still really confused by the whole experience.

I wonder what the organic bastards think about cans of water?

Oh, and the picture is backwards. It's practice your backwards reading day!

God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut

From Slaughterhouse Five:

You see, in Tralfamadore, where I presently dwell, life has no beginning, no middle and no end. For example, many years ago... a certain man promised to have me killed. He's an old man now, living not far from here. He's read all of the publicity associated with my appearance. He's insane, and tonight he'll keep his promise. If you protest, if you think that death is a terrible thing, then you have not understood what I have said. You see, it's time for you to go home... to your wives and children. It's time for me to be dead for a little while... and then live again.

(Squeeker on quote: TNR).

Our Beloved and Me

Our Beloved will actually have a game in DC next December. By then, our sleeper draft pick running back will have broken several records, and probably an ankle, and a probably a rib.

Update: I didn't read the schedule closely enough. (Have I mentioned that I'm a lawyer? I'm a lawyer.) The Bills play the Dolphins on Monday Night Football. All of football loving America will tune in to see Skeletor battle Bum, Son of Bum, former fat coach of our beloved.

New Chicken Wing Eating Method

April 11th, 2007

Over the weekend, a new method to eat a chicken wing flat was unveiled at a neighborhood bar in Decatur, GA. Several patrons were on hand to witness the historic event including chicken wing enthusiast Man Boobs.

"I have never seen anything like this!" declared Man Boobs as he watched the chicken slide off the bone into his friend's mouth. A long-time proponent of chicken wing flats, Man Boobs had created his own 'one-bite' method several years ago. However, with a little bit of practice, this new technique provides a cleaner, more satisfying flat-eating experience.

The first step involves locating the smaller bone in the flat. The bone will be slightly exposed on the skinny end of the wing. Grip the bone and rotate gently. If done correctly, the bone will detach from the chicken tissue and you can then slide the bone completely out of the flat. The hard part is over. Using the remaining bone, put the entire wing in your mouth, bite down, and pull. With the bones fully extracted, chew the meat.

"We have just witnessed a life changing event," said Man Boobs soon after the demonstration, "Flats will never be looked at or eaten the same."

Back Bitches

I'm in Chicago.  I was in Texas.  Here's what I ate:  15 varieties of wedding cake.  BBQ twice.  Tex Mex.  Queso.  All you can eat Brazillian BBQ. 

In the meantime, I won my bracket, I watched Entourage, I saw Shooter - Good, and I ate at a crappy organic place in LA which was so crappy it's unreal.  I ordered the line caught ahi Tuna and the organic bastards gave me a quarter of a half of a half of a filet.  Sometimes organic bastards are very stingy with their line caught tuna.  At the same place I had potato leak soup made by organic bastards and it looked so much like Applesauce that everytime you ate it you expected to taste applesauce.  Organic bastards.

Sopranofarts

It's Sopranos season again. I watched last night's episode on Horse's big HDTV-- this was technology that didn't exist when Man Boobs and I first stumbled on the Soprano videos in college. I was late getting to Horse's apartment (the Canadian beat me there), so Horse paused the broadcast to wait for me. Tivo living. This also didn't exist.

When it began, we all sat and reminisced about where we were for the last quasi-season. I was living in New Haven, pretty much stuffed with pizza all of the time. (There it's a snack and a meal and a way of life). The last time I had watched Sopranos before that was in law school, when I'd interrupt my work on Sunday nights to drive across the river to Brookline to watch it with friends. Not much has changed in this regard: I had plenty of work to interrupt last night. Before that was in Queens, which was unnerving because it made you think twice about the guys who sat in the back of the pizza and pastry shops after they had close.

But the show? It was good, and fun to watch in High Def, but I don't really care anymore. They're all old and bored with themselves, and I'm old and bored with myself. I think everyone will be just fine when it ends. However, there was one very important highlight that made the episode worthwhile.

My prediction: Tony drowns, possibly by accident. You heard it here first.

Passover Haiku Lunchfarts

Blackened salmon salad
Ceasar dressing splash on shirt
Enough with Pesach.

Rehab Plan = More Video Games

Gilbert, I knew what you'd be up to before you even had to say anything. See?

The offer still stands.

Ode to Blanktop Fart

I am a technology consultant. I combine state-of-the-art software and hardware solutions to solve complex business problems. I have installed ERP systems across the continent. I have created software to track the profitability of billion dollar companies. I have increased machine efficiencies, integrated disparate HR systems, and revolutionized time and expense tracking for fortune 500 companies. However, for the past two weeks I have been relegated to IT support. This consists of answering a phone and watching cases pop onto my screen. The most common issues in order of prevalence are:

1) I forgot my password.
2) I cannot log into XXXXX.
3) XXXXX is broken. (no additional details)
4) My name/manager/email/phone number/department is incorrect (I can not actually fix these tickets, so I forward and email to HR who takes a week to complete while I deal with angry users).

I am attempting to approach my new responsibilities with a positive attitude. I get to meet a lot of my end users, see what pain points exist at my client, and take a break from tight deadlines and status reports. However, this morning I had a help request that sent me over the edge. As a dedication to Blanktop, I decided to share this experience with you:

Me: Hello, this is Man Boobs.
User: I have not been able to login to ApplicationX for three weeks!! This is ridiculous!!!
Me: I can help you with that, but I need you to create a helpdesk ticket first. We can not edit a user's settings without a ticket. I can stay on the line while you create the ticket and then we can proceed.
User: I have already created tickets. Apparently I do not email back fast enough so they get closed!
Me: OK, I can look up your old tickets and re-open one of them. Can I please have your name?
User: John.
Me: I need your last name to look up the ticket.
User: It's John Smith.
Me: OK - here's a ticket for this problem. It looks like the ticket was open for 10 days without a response so someone closed it. Have you followed our instructions for how to troubleshoot this issue?
User: Yes! I've done everything and I still can not log in!!!!
Me: OK, where do you sit? I can come over and take a look.
User: 6th floor.
Me: North tower or South tower?
User: Ummm...South.
Me: What Street? (The building is huge and each aisle of cubicles has a sign that says a street number so that you have a chance to find who you are looking for).
User: I don't know!
Me: Can you please go see. It will take me forever to find you without knowing your street.
User: Look, just get off the elevator, take a left, walk around the hall, and I'm the second cube.
Me: OK, I will try to find you. (I should have made him get up and walk ten feet to see what street he was on, but all I wanted to do was get off the phone and crawl up into a ball under my desk).

So I took the elevator to the 6th floor, took a left, and just as I suspected I did not see the user's name on the second row of cubicles. It took me about 15 minutes of walking around and asking anyone who looked up at me for help before I was able to find the user. Once I got on his computer, I quickly ascertained that he had not changed his settings per our instructions. After about 30 seconds he was up and running. I believe the only word he said to me was when the screen came up was "Finally."

Was That Bet With Me?

Dice-K's numbers from today:

7.0

6

1

1

1

10

0

0

0

0.0

1.00

.222

1.29

I wasn't going to bring him up. I think the hype is a very much out of hand-- some articles were already discussing the Hall of Fame before he threw his first MLB pitch. But if you insist. The 7.0 is for innings pitched, as in "seven is more than five." That 10 is for strikeouts, as in "more than all of the Yankees pitchers combined so far."*

Maybe you were thinking about this guy?

*Ok, so the Yankees have only played one game so far. But still. That's fun to say.

Farting Contest Farts

I interrupt absolutely everything to bring you important, breaking (ha) news:

Tiger Woods has farting contests with other people.

Let that one sink in.

It sounds like a great game, too (although probably not nearly as much fun as "game"): you shake hands, and the first one to fart wins.

Wow.

And of course, Tiger always wins.

But I think I could beat him.

Hideki Irabu Take 2?

Lots of hoopla surrounding Dice-K's big opening day in KC today. Ten bucks he gets pulled during or before the 5th inning...

Do You Know Where I Am?

Gilbert Arenas is out for 2-3 months with a knee. The Wizards' playoff run is basically over before it even began. In other news, though, Gilbert is probably going to be on his couch for a while, playing video games. Would you like a Halo partner, Gilbert? I can come anytime.

It Will Never Happen Again

Dearest Weddingfarters,

I know that the past few days have been difficult for everyone. On Saturday, I write, with promise of news of delicious food, and then there is nothing-- silence!-- until Wednesday. Believe me, I didn't want it to be this way.

I can explain. First, I've been busy with work. Have I mentioned I'm a lawyer? I'm a lawyer. Second, I've been in Rochester for a few days to make gelfite fish, drink wine, and shop for carpets. Third, my 7:00 flight this morning was delayed for two hours when I was already on the plane. That's not really a reason for not having written before. I share it so you know why I hate everyone at this particular moment.

But on to what you really want to know about. Food on Saturday. All I can say is, sailor jacket had barbeque in Texas on Saturday, and multiple wedding cakes, but we both agreed that we tied in eating that day 1-0. That's how good a day of Rochester eating I had.

First, Mom of weddingfarts and I made gefilte fish. Homemade gefilte fish is better, but it makes your house smell like a crab shack.

Then, we went to the lake for the good steak sandwich. The good steak sandwich from the LDR charpit, which wasn't actually as good as it should have been on Saturday, is a Rochester institution. It doesn't have the flash and the fame of the garbage plate, but it's been around a long time. It's almost so much a part of the place, that you don't talk about it. Someone says, "Let's go to the lake," and then you're sitting in a boot eating a steak sandwich. When I'm at the Charpit, I'm sad for the people who move to Rochester from somewhere else and, through no fault of their own, never get there because they don't know what "let's go to the lake" means.* It's a half inch thick steak, grilled on a griddle that has rarely been cleaned, smothered with onions on a strong enough roll. But that's not the important part. The important part is the meaty hot sauce-- another little-discussed Rochester institution. It adds heat and more meat to steak, ground round sandwiches, and Zwiegle dogs. It was a long time before I realized that it is something you don't find elsewhere.

Traditionally, the steak sandwich meal begins with a starter course of sweet pickles in small paper cups, and it is followed by Abbott's frozen chocolate almond custard-- the kind with the salty almonds. Today, however, we weren't having dinner, and it was kind of cold outside, so, instead of custard, we just lamented the folly of the ferry.

This may have been a key decision, in retrospect, as we returned home to do some work and then watch the basketball games. Midway through the Georgetown game, it became time to contemplate dinner. It being the mom of weddingfart's birthday, we let her decide where to order from (yes, we're pathetic. no, it's ok.). She suggested-- she actually suggested!-- Country Sweet wings. It was exactly the thing that had been on my mind, but it just seemed too fantastical to suggest it. The good steak sandwich and country sweet wings in the same day! Has it ever been attempted before? We ordered up a batch of 30 wings mixed and a bunch of mac, and the dad of weddingfarts and I drove to pick it up on Monroe Ave. in the waning moments of Georgetown's season.

As if this wasn't good enough, we stopped at a convenience store and picked up a six pack of a favorite beer: Ithaca Nut Brown.

The wings were delicious. They defy description. They are sweet and hot and tangy and gloppy and crunchy. They are so many things that I normally wouldn't like, and would abhor in a Buffalo wing, but it all comes together in harmonious fashion in country sweetness. They are Rochester soul food. No, they are the soul of Rochester.**

Now, I know, at this point, someone of you are drooling on the important .gov papers on your desk. And some of you are hungry. And some of you just ate a lot of matzah, and are feeling a little bit queasy. But I know that all of you wish you were there. Especially man boobs. Next year in Rochester, weddingfarters, next year in Rochester.




*I particularly feel for those who move to Rochester to follow a girlfriend after college but leave before a friend could come back to town to show him the way. I'm sorry, sailor jacket, I'm sorry.

**Besides Wegmans, of course.

April Farts Day

I ran into this amazing April Fool's Day website:

http://www.rjlsoftware.com/software/entertainment/

If a co-worker leaves his computer on and walks away, install clippy. He looks just like the Microsoft Office paperclip helper only he is much cooler. He says great things like, "I noticed you have Internet Explorer installed on your system. You can use that to find things on the Internet" and "I see that you have been using your mouse" and "Your computer seems to be turned on."

Other good ones to check out are:
-Random Burper: Turns your volume on loud and plays burp sounds at random intervals. Listen closely and you might even hear a wedding fart.
-Mouse Droppings: Your mouse drops small turds in its path
-Dirty Mouse: Simulates a dirty ball in your mouse. This is a good one for someone you really want to frustrate.

HAPPY [late] APRIL FOOL'S DAY!!!!