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October 26, 2003
MARGARITAS, MOVIE-MANIA, AND MOZART
As most of you know, I am completely fanatic about one of our local Mexican restaurants. It’s called TOLEDO’S and they whip up the best ding dang margos on this here planet Earth, served up chilled and icy in short, fat, salted glasses. http://www.explorefresno.com/restaurants/restaurantsT.html We like that.
Unlike some other establishments, it’s obvious to the experienced drinker (like me) that they use only quality ingredients, including what tastes like a true kick-ass tequila. My professional guess would be Herradura or Sauza, but then again, it could be some homemade battery acid concocted by the owner. In any event, their cocktails will satisfy the thirst of any hard-working patron on a Friday evening. In the case of a couple weeks ago, it was myself, my dad (Frank), and Margaret – whom you’ll undoubtedly remember from her past cameo appearances in several other blogs. As my mother was currently tormenting the good, Yankee-rooting fans of New York, we two Hunters left at home had to make some quick-thinking mealtime decisions. Let’s just say that going OUT to chow down is always an excellent plan, seeing as how after a couple martinis, Frank can’t be trusted around an open flame. And since I can barely FIND the kitchen (is that where the refrigerator lives?), with or without ingesting several libations, well, you get the idea.
Anyhoot, we hopped into Margaret’s Camry and headed on over to Toledo’s, which just happens to be on Blackstone (“the boulevard of dreams”), a major traffic pile-up most of the time. Which brings me to this not-so-obvious-fact-of-life revelation; if people have never served time living in a major metropolitan city, they have absolutely NO clue how to parallel park. It’s true, and I should know – I used to BE one of those poor souls. But after wedging my hand-me-down Honda into tiny little parking spaces in San Francisco for a couple years, I’ve garnered a bit of curbside expertise. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Margaret, especially after a smart beverage; she appears to think the sidewalk is actually a really SMALL and NARROW blondes-only slot of cement. I’m not implying that it was a bit FRIGHTENING and HORRIFYING, but let’s just say that dad and I were clutching our seatbelts, saying many Hail Mary’s, and promising the big man upstairs we’d stave off Happy Hour for at least 3 days, if he’d only let us live to enjoy some crunchy tacos. He did, and we may have to attend some Sunday services real soon.
Our trio obviously survived that evening, and on Sunday, we decided to try something a little less life threatening – although we did let Margaret drive again. It was time for some movie mania, and I mean some SERIOUS stuff, as in, two flicks in one day. Could we do it? Could our backs withstand 5 hours of stadium seating? Would our bladders hold out? Would our ears withstand the BIG SPEAKER SOUND? Could we possibly stuff 47 gallons of popcorn, Diet Pepsi and Snickers Poppers into our guts in one afternoon? Could we endure exactly FOUR (count ‘em) trailers for Tom Cruise’s “The Last Samurarai” without going batty? http://lastsamurai.warnerbros.com/home.php Well, we did do it, and boy was it ever worth all the chocolate-stained, greasy-fingered, effort. First up was the phenomenally incredible “Mystic River”, http://mysticrivermovie.warnerbros.com/index.php with so many Oscar-worthy performances, the entire cast should get an ensemble award just for their very presence onscreen. Sean Penn is unbelievable, Kevin Bacon is composed cool, and Tim Robbins gives us one of the best performances he’s ever revealed to the movie-going public; a man slowly unraveling at the seams. I’m going out on a limb here, and saying for the record that Clint Eastwood walks away with a little golden statuette for Best Director. The supporting team of Marcia Gay-Harden, Laurence Fishburne, and Laura Linney are also amazingly superb, and it’s anybody’s guess who’ll snag an Oscar nod. And on a personal note, if you’ve never seen Ms. Linney in “You Can Count on Me”, get thee to your local rental house, take it home and enjoy. It’s truly one of the very best indie films of the last few years; Mark Ruffalo is outstanding. http://www.paramountclassics.com/count/index.html
After refilling our bottomless drum of buttered kernels, the next picture up was “Runaway Jury”, which we also gave a very enthusiastic big “thumbs up”. What a great story, with lots of twists and turns, and an ending to take you by a very happy surprise. John Cusak can’t seem to do anything wrong these days, and of course, who couldn’t love the gorgeous Rachel Weisz? Loved her in “The Mummy”, and adored her in this too…her character’s got a few tricks up her sleeve. Of course Gene Hackman steals the show, as a slimy I-couldn’t-care-less-how-many-lives-I-screw-up jury set-up man, and Dustin Hoffman does the unthinkable by making you believe his lawyer truly DOES care, and may actually have a few scruples. Lots of cool James Bond gadgetry add to the sneakiness of the whole plot, and make audience members squirm in their seats, asking the inevitable question, “Hey, can they actually DO that?” http://www.runawayjurymovie.com/ After our mentally exhausting dose of cinematherapy, we headed over to one of our favorite foodage locales for several tasty cocktails, and even tastier appetizers; potstickers, shrimp/veggie tempura, and chicken lettuce wraps. I’m happy to say that the poultry filling did not injure Margaret’s mouth this time around, like it did the afternoon she chomped down on what appeared to be some sort of metal bottle cap. Ewww. It was a freaky experience, but the manager very enthusiastically took care of our bill, and insisted that we sit and enjoy a couple more glasses of vino, free of charge. Needless to say, we didn’t argue.
And before I enthrall you with this weekend’s exciting activities, I feel compelled to share yet another dining adventure. Yes, Kelly, it IS all about eating and drinking down here in the hinterland. The parental unit and myself took a drive over to Plaza Ventana, yet another yummy Mexican eatery with some mighty fine margos. My dad ordered some sort of burrito that should have come to our table not via the waiter, but by forklift. It was big. I mean REALLY big. It was possibly the biggest bad-boy of a burrito I’ve ever seen in my life. There literally was almost no room for it on the plate, as it bulged with enough internal treats to sink a small ship. It was frightening. My dad managed to wolf down half of it, but opted to keep the rest for lunch….a very smart move indeed. So if you’re asking yourself, “how big was it?”…..we took the remains home, weighed it on a scale, and the result was one pound. And that was only HALF! Yikes! Whew.
Anyhoot, I’m on my last day of house-sitting for my sister Jill, and taking care of her zoo-like abode while she’s in Phoenix. This menagerie features “Lulu”, who looks like a cattle dog/German short hair pointer on speed, “Lucky”, a miniature greyhound/Chihuahua mix who lives to chase birds, “Ginger”, a live-cricket-chomping chameleon, “Woody” and “Cliff”, two felines in a perpetual cat-napping state, and a large tank of colorful fish. I managed to steal away from the animals yesterday for some arts and crafts meanderings with Margaret, and purchased a few stocking-stuffers for Christmas. Of course the shopping was much easier after a couple of Ultimate Margaritas at TGIFriday’s…..funny how that works. And last night, I attended a wonderful concert by the Fresno Philharmonic Orchestra that was ALL Mozart, and hey, how can you go wrong with a little Wolfgang? The musicians were joined by the The Fresno Choral Artists and the San Joaquin Chorale; and let me just say I LOVE a good chorus. Their last piece was the gorgeous “Requiem for Soloists, Chorus, and Orchestra” that the haunted composer allegedly penned for his own demise. If you recall “Amadeus”, you’ll undoubtedly remember the bone-chilling ending, where the aforementioned work of art is played, while Mozart’s sickened body is blatantly dumped into a mass grave.
http://www.fast-rewind.com/ The Fresno Philharmonic and both chorale groups absolutely prevailed with their rendition, and I had that memorable motion picture swimming through my head. All in all, a glorious way to spend a Saturday evening. But now that it’s Sunday, I must wander out into the living room, and see how badly the SF 49er’s are losing. Uh oh, it looks as though they may be playing Wolfie's "Requiem" in the locker room, post-game……
Posted by Wendy at 3:33 PM
October 17, 2003
WIDE LOAD: THE REDDING ROAD TRIP
(or how I learned to consume an entire pound of bacon in one sitting)
That’s right, a huge pile of pork slab that never seemed to end. But, we’ll get back to that gastrointestinal story a bit later. I think I can honestly say I’ve never laughed so much in my entire life as I did this past weekend. I chuckled, I guffawed, and I doubled over in fits. I howled so frickin’ hard, that I completely destroyed every lash of my so-called waterproof mascara. However, it was just what I needed; a side-splittingly hilarious, cocktail-induced adventure with a couple of other loud, “full-figured” gals. And so, in the cinematherapy tradition of “Thelma & Louise”, my sister Jill (heretofore known as The Bimbo) and I loaded up the Honda on Friday morning with clothing, Frank’s homemade CD’s, Cracker Jack, Aquafina, and a gigantic air mattress the size of Omaha.
The wind was angry that day my friends, and our little auto was blowin’ all over the road like “Toto” in a tornado. As we approached the lovely and attractive town of Redding, it became perfectly clear that we weren’t in Kansas anymore. Of course, since we’d endured each other (barely) in the car together for FIVE mind-numbing hours, it actually DID feel like we had driven halfway across the country. Our final destination was just up the road apiece, to Shasta Lake, where Jill’s rowdy redheaded pal Suzy lives. Now I know what you’re thinking; why would anyone in their right (or left) mind want to visit the Redding area, much less LIVE there. Well, boys and girls, we all have our mad reasonings for relocation; one woman’s Hell is another chickee’s Heaven on Earth. But in reality, it’s usually just to get as far away as possible from some male-type yahoo with no brain cells. Go figure. And so we met up with Suzy at her neighborhood grocery store, the Sentry Market, where lots of locals milled about. The Bimbo and I were particularly enthralled with “Crystal”, the sprightly bagger at our check-out stand. Not only was her badly permed hair a fantastic blend of blonde-with-black-roots-showing, but her disco-ball glitter eyeshadow perfectly matched the attractive lilac T-shirt she was wearing. You have to spend an enormous amount of time at the mall to locate that precise shade of Easter egg purple.
As soon as we arrived at Suzy’s adorable little casa, we were greeted with a myriad of four-legged creatures, which all of us animal freaks truly appreciate; much more than the two-legged type. These included Sidney, the obnoxious bark-all-night-let’s-play-tug-o’-war Australian Shepherd, Daisy and Charlotte (the old-lady-don’t-move-me-or-I’ll-bite-your-head-off) Shitzu’s, Tawny the talking “tundra” fat cat, and Lucy-the-frightened-one kitty. Now, I’ve a feeling that Lucy is not her real name, but I can’t seem to recall it for the life of me; Suzy will have to set me straight with a comment. After playing kissy-face and fawning over the menagerie, we commenced straight onto something almost as important; Happy Hour. I think I was in Suzy’s house for about 12 minutes before I had a glass of cheap swill in my hand….whew, it was a LONG 12 minutes. And so we spent the rest of the evening consuming mass quantities of vino, Coors Lite, and mediocre delivery pizza. But hey, after you’ve been plowing down beverages for several hours….who cares?
Now according to Jill and Suzy (and many critter witnesses), my famous last words from that night, regarding the following morning’s breakfast were, “just save me some bacon”. And boy, did our hostess take that LITERALLY. She served me an entire plate of scrambled eggs, red potatoes, and you guessed it, BACON. A scary amount of bacon. A Halloween Fright Night helping of bacon. More bacon than is legally allowed in most states. But, in true hog heaven (pardon the pun) fashion, I managed to plow through about 47 pieces, before relinquishing the remaining 3 to Sidney and Daisy. Whew. After splashing in a refreshing shower, we hopped into Suzy’s vehicle and headed up to Mt. Shasta, but not before stopping at a random gas station for serve-yourself Icees and Dr. Pepper. Now, Mt. Shasta is beautiful and way too much fun – plus, the mountain itself is right SMACK in front of you. If you were taking recreational drugs, you’d think you could reach right out and touch it, if it weren’t for that annoying cloud cover. It’s a great place for shopping and wandering – all the shopowners are friendly and talkative, and just love having you there. I kept waiting for some of them to break out the beer and popcorn, just so you’d stay to keep them company. We enjoyed “Suzie’s Shop On The Corner”, for almost everything in her store; clothes, handbags, jewelry, shoes, sunglasses, earrings..etc. And we spent WAY too much time at the “Exquisite Jewelry” shop, where Suzy’s mom spends lots of dough. Barbara Bennett, the Sales Associate, let us try on just about everything in the store, cleaned all our old rings, and happily rang up our “on sale” purchases…I’m quite thrilled with my green amber ring….thanks Babs.
But the absolute funniest-can’t-breathe-I’m-weeping-all-over-the-floor incident was when Suzy decided she needed a sweatshirt. She and I had teased my sister to death because Jill was saying how cool it was; we eventually agreed and discovered that the temperature was a bit more Arctic than we thought. So off we went in search of something warm for the redhead, and lo and behold, there was actually a mountaineering store in our sight. Suzy checked out several styles of pullovers, and found one she thought would work; however, they only came in a large. Well, we “full-figured” gals need something a bit roomier, so she mentioned that an XL would be better. Hello…enter Jill. She snags the sweatshirt, holds it up and at the top of her “voice of the fair” lungs, screams, “HEY, DO YOU HAVE THIS IN AN EXTRA LARGE?!!!”. Suzy, mortified, cringing in shame with no sweatshirt, plans Jill’s quick and painless demise. Later, at another establishment, Suzy tries on another pullover – XL, don’t you know. In the interim, I check out the denim shirts, and the proprietress informs me that not only are they great quality, but they “GO UP TO A SIZE XXL!”. For some bizarre reason, Suzy doesn’t hear this remark, but when I tell her later in the car….well, let’s just say, she was laughing so hard I thought for sure we’d veer off the road into Portland. Of course, the refrigerator magnet we found later was even more hysterical. It’s a retro shot of one woman tightening the other’s corset, and it goes something like this: “Does this dress make me look fat?” “No, it’s your big ASS, that makes you look fat!” I just think of that now, and I start screaming with laughter.
On the way home, we decide to stop in Dunsmuir for a quick toddy, only to discover that not only is Dunsmuir a town you’d NEVER want to get lost in, but they also roll up the streets at 4:00 p.m.. We passed by no less than 6 liquor-licensed establishments that were closed on a Saturday afternoon. Huh? Hulllllooo? What else IS there to do in Dunsmuir? In any event, after eyeing the “Deliverance” extras at the local service station, we decided that moving onto bigger and better things would be a good idea. And so we landed at the “Tale O’ The Whale”, which is basically a generic “club-for-pretentious-houseboat-owners”, with a view. Our cocktails were crap, so we scurried on out the door, to seek solace at the Sentry Market; our bar needed some serious stocking. For dinner, Suzy’s Aunt Ione and Uncle Hal came over, accompanied by their Shitzu dog; another “Daisy”. This canine is horrified by all activities of the other animals, and promptly hides under the table outside. Smart dog. I adore Suzy’s human relatives, as Ione reminds me of Phyllis Diller and Hal is so much like my dad, it’s frightening. In any event, Suzy treats us to some FABULOUS oven-toasted ribs, spuds, French bread, and summer salad…we’re all fat and happy as we hit the hay. Zzzz.
When Jill and I were planning this trip up north, she informed me of a wonderful dining experience that she and Suzy had at a place that serves Thai food and also American breakfast (Dude, pay attention). Well, she was right – I thought it was all the “happy” drugs. I had a superb plate of eggs, hash browns, biscuits, and…………SAUSAGE! That’s right, I couldn’t bear the thought of one more crispy strip of bacon, so I switched…..good plan. Hmmm…..it all sounds really good right now……I must be getting tired. In retrospect, I had way too much fun for my own good, and if I “check out” tomorrow, be sure and spread my ashes into Suzy’s frog-filled flower pots…..she and Jill will know what I mean. Oh, and I almost forget to mention The Wooden Mallet; a wood carving establishment owned by Jim Freeman. He made a fox-in-a-tree trunk carving for Suzy, which turned out really cool….we even got to see his well-worn “shop”. Wow, any guy would freak out at the amount of tools, etc. that he has…..where’s Tim “the Tool Man” Taylor (Home Improvement), when you need him? Anyhoot, Mr. Freeman does a lot of creative stuff….another interesting local we really enjoyed meeting………….all in all………….a great trip………………….:-) Zzzzzzzzz……..
The Wooden Mallet, 4336 Shasta Dam Blvd., Shasta Lake , CA 96019 (530) 275-3766
Suzie’s Shop, 335 N. Mt. Shasta Blvd., Mt. Shasta, CA 96067 (530) 926-5003
Exquisite Jewelry, 325 N. Mt. Shasta Blvd., Mt. Shasta, CA 96067
(530) 926-2728
American Breakfast & Lunch, 5320 Kennett St., Shasta Lake, CA 96019
(530) 275-2228
Posted by Wendy at 12:38 AM | Comments (4)
October 9, 2003
CRABBY CRITICS, CURVACEOUS CLEAVAGE, AND COORS LITE
They always say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and the pen is mightier than the sword. But maybe it should be hell hath no fury like a reader scorned, the weblog is mightier than email…..and Jimmy crack corn and I don’t care. Boy, talk about defensive. Some people out there have an even thinner skin than I do, which is almost humanly impossible. Touchy, touchy. Don’t worry little creatures, I’ll try not to rub your fur the wrong way again, so lower your hackles and go get a life. And now, back to our regularly scheduled blog…
This past weekend proved to be mighty blog-worthy, and a bit eye-opening too. Let’s just say my visit to The Big Fresno Fair http://www.fresnofair.com/ last Friday was way too much fun, and if I were a 27 year-old male, way too much like a candy store. It’s been quite awhile since I attended the fair, with all its smells of popcorn, sawdust, and meat on a stick. My family and I used to go just about every year, and always enjoyed spending quality time at the horse races, where we youngsters would usually bet on the pony that had the brightest silk colors. But NEVER, on any of those occasions, do I recall the racetrack looking like the biggest pick-up joint this side of the Rockies. The whole frightening interior, where the TV screens blare, the beer lines string along, the brave ones place their bets, and the floor is sticky with spilled G&T’s, is one giant “Hey babe, what’s your sign…..can I buy you a Long Island Ice Tea?” http://www.webtender.com/db/drink/2733 I’m talking TGIFriday’s, Williker’s, and the Black Angus dance floor, in Fresno, on a hot Friday evening in 1987 (remember “Fatal Attraction”?) http://80music.about.com/library/1980s/bl_topmovies-1987.htm
I’m talking blonde bimbos in CFM pumps (please, if you have to ask…), tight jeans, even tighter halter tops, 3 layers of makeup, 47 coats of mascara, scarily manicured nails, more lip gloss than a Miss America contest, and enough cleavage to make a grown man cry. I’m sure I saw several poor souls weeping, but maybe it was just the cloud of cheap, over-applied perfume. Yeesh, girls, maybe you better start paying more attention to Glamour Magazine’s “Fashion Do’s and Don’ts” section…….yikes……..
Some other fair observations:
a) If you’re going to eat a delicious, French’s mustard-laden corndog, don’t even THINK of boarding any of the bloodcurdling, horrifyingly, terrifying rides from HELL. Because I’ll tell you what…..that puppy (pardon the pun) isn’t going to taste anywhere NEAR as good coming up.
b) If you’re a female and anywhere slightly over 100 lbs……the tube top is NOT a good look for you. And whoever told you it was, is NOT your friend. Fire her immediately.
c) Soft tacos are truly one of the finest culinary experiences ever invented, and you must have at LEAST two.
d) Just like the Hatfield’s and McCoy’s, all great rivalries are based upon stubbornness and willpower. Did you know if a Coors Lite fan is dying of thirst, sweating like a pig, wobbling at the knees, losing his memory, and has started developing fever blisters, that he wouldn’t even THINK of getting into the much shorter Bud Lite line? What is UP with that?! They’re both crap beers, they both taste like watered down Miller, and they both cost about the same…..hulllloooooo?????? http://ifaq.wap.org/science/suckpoint.html (You HAVE to read this, it’s way too funny….all beer drinkers will blow suds out their noses).
e) Hot, fresh, cream-cheese-frosting-laden-the-size-of-Goodyear-tires cinnamon rolls are best consumed on the spot, no matter how full your gut is after guzzling way too many gallons of cheap cerveza.
f) Fantastic Fresno fun.
Posted by Wendy at 11:50 PM | Comments (4)