Much to DaSh's joy, I have changed my template and distinguished my look from the other midnight sandbox blogs. Sorry Dawg, never meant to jock ur template, just never had time to get around to being original. Holla at me and let me know what you think of the new look!
Since my grandparents are no longer here, meaning the cook that usually comes twice a week is also absent, I decided to cook lunch for myself. No more take out fast food for me either, since I'm joining my fellow jabrone in phase 1 of operation shutdown. Anyways, anyone who knows me knows that I like to eat well, so I definitely won't give up flavor for cutting down on fat.
Today's lunch selection is honey-lime chicken breast sandwich with chili mayo and avocado. Ok, ok, i know mayo is not exactly healthy, but I figured that combining it with chili sauce should make up for it, since chili sauce speeds up your metabolism.
You will need:
2 slices of sourdough cracked wheat bread (or whatever bread you darn well please)
1 boneless chicken breast
honey
juice of half a lime
half a roma tomato (or whatever kind you choose to use)
half a haas avocado (I have to put my foot down on only using haas avocados)
chili sauce
mayo
salt and pepper
Couple slices of sharp cheddar
(sorry i don't have any exact measurements...i'm not the teaspoon-of-this-tablespoon-of-that kinda guy...I just apply according to taste, and usually quite liberally)
Combine the lime juice and honey into a dish. Season the chicken with some salt and pepper, then let it marinate in the honey-lime mixture.
Whip out your Foreman Grill and slap the chicken breast on (if you don't have a Foreman Grill or don't know what it is, you better go ask somebody). Grill for bout 5 minutes.
While the chicken is on the grill, slice the avocado and tomato thinly and set aside. Next put the bread in the toaster oven. Mix some mayo and chili sauce together and spread liberally over the toast.
When the chicken has been on the grill for 5 minutes, lay the slices of cheese on top, and let it melt. Finally, put it all together and cut in half...voila.
I predict that I will be doing a lot of cooking in the next 2 weeks while I'm home alone, so stay tuned for more cooking adventures.
Played tennis today in millbrae...we were playing at a highschool when the tennis team came out and looked like they were going to start some matchplay...we decided to move before we got kicked off the courts. On the way to the next location, while i was driving i noticed a really foul smell...i thought it might be my old crosstrainers that i had used to play football, but i figured even those can't smell THAT bad. When i got out of the car, i noticed that I had a clump of doggy doo stuck to the bottom of my shoe. After the initial shock passed over, i quickly glanced in my car to see if i had left a mess, but thankfully it didn't break off inside while i was driving. I did manage to clumsily kick my other shoe somehow, cuz i had some on my ankle. This was some weird doggy doo...it was really sticky, like i had to shuffle my feet in grass for a really long time...even that didn't work, so i had to drag it along the edge of the steps too. anyways, i never really got it off completely, so on the way back home, i stopped by fry's sports and bought some new tennis shoes...figured i could use some clean shoes since i ruined my running shoes the other day (see last post). Needless to say, i tried them on and wore them out the store...the old stinky ones i stealthily ditched in a waste basket at the store.
If you haven't already checked Procrastination Station lately, i went running with hosmurf...he took me jogging around lands end and down it too. We reached a point where it was extremely steep and the jagged rocks there hardly qualified as a path...if i were alone, i would have exercised extreme caution, but since hosmurf was leading the way and bounding away, i figured there was a chance that i might not roll my ankle over a rock and pitch over the side of the cliff and die. Later i asked if he took anyone else running there, and he said no. I dunno if it was comforting or not that i'm the only friend whose life he chose to risk doing exercise. He did lead me into a pool of mud, and i messed up my squeaky clean running shoes...$#@*! is all i can say...
I had my last studio class final presentation yesterday...once again i stayed up all night and worked through the next day and managed to finish just minutes b4 i had to go to class. I was thinking bout how do i always manage to finish with impeccable timing, but then i realized that it's God's hand at work...i think both times it was a miracle that i actually even finished b4 class.
Time to clean up my room...it looks like someone ransacked it and then cut out lots of paper scraps and scattered it everywhere...uggh, what a mess.
Haven't blogged in the longest time...or checked out anyone's blog for that matter. I've sorta hibernated for the last 2 weeks...but managed to escape to boston and LA during that time. Mostly I've been busy with my project and final presentation for a class...i don't think i've pulled off 3 all-nighters in one week since freshman year of college. Anyways, the presentation went well, but i still have another one this thursday...i'm not sweating it too much. I'm suppose to design an airstream trailer, and I figured I'd have fun with it by creating one worthy of a rap video...kinda fun pimpin it out...my trailer rides on dubs that go bling bling.
anyways, i haven't had time for much lately...my fantasy baseball league i haven't checked in 2 weeks...but i did manage to get out today and play a round of tennis with millbrae, hosmurf and djbabylon. It was a classic match of the former high school tennis stars vs. the team with wrist injuries. djbabylon broke his wrist playing hockey, and i sustained some unknown wrist injury playing bball...anyways, suffice to say, the team with the gimpy wrists administered a thorough spanking to the ex stars.
I give props to my fellow jabrone for posting his views on the a&f fiasco. Not to say that the company is right in their actions, but I just think it's been blown way out of proportion. My 2 cents...asians have grown tired of being viewed as the weaker ethnic group compared to blacks and hispanics...i don't mean that asians are weaker individuals, but as a whole group. for example, i remember this story that was going around bout 2 asians getting beat down by a couple hispanic guys in chinatown nyc...i'm not saying that asians are weak because a whole community of asians did not come to their aid, but i bet it would be a totally different outcome if 2 black guys were getting beat down by a couple asians in harlem. with that said, i think many asians are waiting for that opportunity to show that they won't shy away from confrontation and are willing to stand up for themselves as a group, but i think that they just picked the wrong opportunity with this one.
Balled with the fellas last saturday...interesting game. My team lost both games, but I guess injuries kinda took a toll on us...one guy pulled a hammy early on and I got the living crap kicked out of me. Never got so well acquainted with Mr. Tarmac before...MC and company were just too physical for us...they'd make a great hockey team too. It was entertaining watching our first pg posting it up though...and another guy kept holding his dribble for like 20 seconds and the guy guarding him kept waving his teamates off so he could play a lil one on one...didn't know lumps had so many street ballin thugs. Despite the punishment inflicted on me, I did manage to have some fun...i was blessed to be guarded by one of my buddies fresh off the dl. Glad to see him trying to put the gimpy limb to good use...I kinda took advantage of it in the beginning, but he seemed to keep getting good blocks later on, but just from one side though...i eventually learned not to go there. This uneven defensive performance kinda reminds me of the lil fella below...
I have to say though, krabby did put on a fine defensive effort.
Anyways, looking forward to the next game.
gasol: you're such a dork
gasol: you're such a dork
gasol: i can't believe you
gasol: you're such a dork
Me: haha...ur original
gasol: you're such a dork
gasol: you're such a dork
gasol: you're such a dork
gasol: you're such a dork
Me: O:-)
gasol: you're such a dork
Me: how you figure?
gasol: figure you're a dork?
Me: duh...yeah
gasol: ou're sucha dork
Yesterday, gw and I got free passes to see Changing Lanes, starring Ben Affleck and Samuel L. Jackson. The movie is about a jerk lawyer (Affleck) who gets into an accident with Joe Schmoe (Jackson)...the jerk lawyer drives away from the scene of the accident leaving Joe Schmoe high and dry, but also leaves a very important brief, which Joe Schmoe later uses to blackmail said jerk lawyer. Anyways, in order to get the passes, we had to submit drawings of what we'd look like if we had road rage.
Speaking of road rage, I almost found myself in a potentially dangerous altercation last night. So there I was at the intersection of ulloa and 19th, going up ulloa st. I was in the lane to go straight, and this dude was behind me at the time. All of a sudden, just before the light changes, he pulls into the left turn lane to try to pass me in getting across the intersection. I was driving pretty slowly, so he managed to execute that maneuver with ease. So now I'm following the guy, and I guess my foglights are aimed kinda high, so he thinks I'm high beaming him. Either that, or I came up on him really quick, so he thought I was being annoying. I just thought being the aggressive driver he was, he'd probably run all the stop signs, so I didn't bother braking too hard. So at the next stop sign, he gets out of the car, starts yelling all this French at me (well, not really French, you know what I mean), spittle flying out of his mouth, and makes his way towards my car. My first reaction was, geez, this guy is coming at me...I should just run him the heck over! But since I was on a hill in a manual transmission car, it was easy for me to just roll down the hill backwards away from the troublemaker. Anyways, that guy must've been drunk...he was livid! Kinda big too, not the kind of guy I'd wanna take my chances with in a brawl. He eventually gave up trying to follow me down the hill, and made his way back to his car. I waited for him to drive off outta sight so he wouldn't see that I lived right around the corner. Anyways, I thought that encounter was kind of ironic, after drawing the road rage pics earlier in the day.
On to more important issues...
Day 5: Shirts
The business-shirt wardrobe:
Though some style books would prescribe four white shirts, four blue shirts, etc., it's better to have whatever kind of high-quality shirts you like that are acceptable in your office.
That said, your shirt wardrobe should total at least ten, so that the first five can be in the laundry for a week before you're caught without.
Not all shirt collar styles suit all men.
Long face: spread collar, button-down collar, tab collar.
Square face: button-down collar, rounded-point collar.
Round face: button-down, long-point collar.
Oval face: anything but the rounded collar.
Band collar shirts make you look either stupid or like a priest or like a stupid priest.
Button-downs, because of their informal roots, should never be worn with a double-breasted suit.
Button-downs are best worn with a sport coat.
The button-down collar, left unbottoned: no.
Unless you're wearing it with a pair of jeans or khakis and without a tie, in which case it should never be starched or ironed, either.
You know how some men wear a shirt with a tie and the shirt's a little too small so their neck sort of curls out over the collar like the end of a german sausage bursting beyond it's casing? Don't do that.
If you can slip two fingers between your neck and the buttoned collar of a new dress shirt, the shirt will fit comfortably after laundering.
To avoid turning your collar into a garrote: light starch.
The shirt placket, the belt buckle, and the trouser fly should all line up.
The shirt placket: the strip of material sewn to the front of your shirt through which buttons are fastened.
The hawaiian shirt: no.
Silk shirts: no.
Diaphanous shirts: no.
Blousy pirate shirts: unless you're a figure skater. And even then- actually, especially then- no.
Monograms: Proceed with caution.
If you must monogram shirts, do it only on the waist, below the breast pocket, or on the front left tail.
And never forget: Clothing emblazoned with crests is to be avoided by anyone who isn't a member of the royal family or Captain Stubing.
A $250 shirt will look like $25 shirt if it is professionally laundered instead of hand-washed.
Still, ironing correctly is difficult and tedious and best left to experts.
Before you buy one more shirt, have a tailor measure these portions of your person, and commit the numbers to memory: neck, arms, chest.
Other numbers to remember: one-half inch of shirt collar above the jacket collar, one-half inch of shirt cuff, one-and-one-half inches of trouser cuff, two inches more belt than inches on your actual waist.
It's more important to a man's daily life to have a good tailor than a good doctor.
How to pick a tailor:
Visit the finest men's store in town, find the best-dressed salesman in the suit department, ask him where he goes. Then, visit another fine men's store, and run that tailor's name by the best-dressed salesman there. Repeat.
How to talk to a good tailor: Present your taste in cuffs, sleeve length, give at the waist, and roominess in the seat; and then let him do what he wants.
Tip him generously.
At the tailor's, carry everything you normally carry: wallet, keys, mace, etc.
Despite its presence on the label of every high-quality shirt (and many cheap ones besides), only a few insiders know what "single-needle tailoring" is.
Single-needle tailoring: seams stitched down the outside of a shirt first and then from the inside, using one needle and forming a lock-stitch, which is stronger and prevents the puckering that comes with faster, cheaper, double-needle stitching.
You are now at liberty to forget you've ever heard of single-needle tailoring".
Cotton/polyester blended shirts don't breathe, do pucker at seams, and will "pill" after a few launderings.
"Easy-care" is for those who don't.
One definition of the high-quality shirt:
100% cotton, or 95% cotton and 5% lycra.
Another definition of the high-quality shirt:
a "split yoke", signified by a vertical seam between the shoulder blades, which permits custom-shirt makers to adjust the fit of each shoulder separately.
Yet a third definition of the high-quality shirt:
small, tight stitches, removable collar stays, a button on the cuff placket, pleats on the sleeve where it enters the cuff, well-sewn buttons with an extra one attached to the inside of the shirttail.
A T-shirt that shows through a dress shirt is the male equivalent of visible panty lines.
The only people who can wear colored shirts with white collars are obscenely overpaid CEO's and Donald Trump.
And even they look ridiculous in them, but who's going to tell them?
Is anyone finding any of this stuff helpful? or at least entertaining? Please let me know, i don't wanna keep writing all this stuff if it's driving away what little traffic i get. Feel free to use the *ahem* comment link at the bottom. Actually, I'll prolly end up blogging whatever I darn well please.
Yesterday, in hopes of trying to get a lot of last minute work done on a project, I decided to try something new...I actually gathered up the gusto to log off aim for the better part of the day. I must say, I have to start doing that more often...like limit myself to an hour of aim a day...SO MUCH MORE PRODUCTIVE. Never realized how big a waste of time aim is. Not that blogging is of course.
Day 4: Trousers.
Button-fly pants are harder to fasten, but easier to unfasten.
Cuffs: on suit trousers or any pants you'd wear with a tie, except tuxedo pants.
No cuffs: on jeans and khakis, unless they are pleated, which they should never be.
Khakis, which are patterned after military trousers, should never be pleated because military trousers have no pleats and because Humphrey Bogart wore khakis and you can be damned sure his didn't have pleats.
The pleats of trousers that fit properly will never bulge or gap but will lie flat against your lap.
Slim-fitting clothes are for slim men.
Which means if you're a thirty-six, you won't look skinnier shoehorning yourself into a thirty-four. You'll look skinnier wearing a thirty-six.
Maximum number of inches that the waist of new trousers can be taken in before the back pockets begin to meet: two.
Yesterday was an eventful evening for me...I went to my last Warriors game as a season ticket holder, expecting yet another gut wrenching, painful loss at the hands of the Trailblazers, but to my surprise, my last game ended on a good note. They began by starting the youngest backcourt in the NBA with Arenas and Richardson at 20 and 21, and added in Troy Murphy to boot...that's 3 rookies on the starting squad. Much to my amazement, they racked up over 30 pts in the first quarter, shooting well over 50%, but as a seasoned warriors spectator, I guarded myself for their penchant to unravel in the final minutes of the game. This did not happen of course, as they went on their way to winning 107-91...free chalupas for everyone.
Other highlights of the game: JiTe boasting bout the pitiful size of the nachos there, and how they're nothing compared to what he's used to back home in big TX (I guess everything is big in Texas), and then watching him struggle as he tried to find the bottom of the container of nacho cheese and chips.
An unexpected appearance was made by Nobody's Angel...to most of the crowd in Oakland, they may as well have been just plain Nobody...but to buddy JoHo, they were Everybody, as he cursed himself for not bringing a pen or a camera...he did manage to chase them down and make small talk..."so, where's the afterparty?"
On the way home driving on Sunset Ave. to gw's place to pick up some colored pencils (I needed them for a project), I passed by a patrol car...i wasn't speeding or anything, but out of habit I looked in my rearview mirror to see if he would tail me. Sure enough, I saw him pull out. At the next light, I signalled to make a right turn, and looked in the rearview to see if he would follow me. As I drove on, I watched him make the right turn, but I figured it might be his neighborhood that he's patrolling, so no big deal. I then made an immediate left onto gw's street, and pulled up infront of his house, while fumbling for the phone to call him down. As i was calling, i saw the patrol car stop at the intersection of the street and it looked like he was just waiting for me or something. All of the sudden, i became really self conscious, and started wishing gw would hurry down here so it didn't look like I was loitering or doing something shady. Then I began to worry...what if the cop sees greg hand me the box of pencils...will he think it's some kind of handoff? To my relief, the squad car drove away just before gw came down. Man, I hate the popo.
Today's style topic is a basic, yet very essential one: underwear.
No matter what fond memories they evoke of the first time he wore them, there are certain garment's from a man's past that he should never seek to wear again: a thin leather tie, rainbow-colored suspenders, those little underwear briefs with cartoon superheroes printed on them.
In fact, wear no funny underwear.
Funny underwear shall be defined as those garments including, but not limited to neon-colored briefs, boxers printed with lipstick kisses, or any style of skivvies whose fly zone is emblazoned with the phrase "Home of the Whopper".
For those still contemplating the wearing of funny underwear, think: When you are removing your pants for the viewing pleasure of another, do you really want that person to laugh?
On airplane trips, briefs are more comfortable than boxers, as contents may shift during flight.
Boxers: with roomy trousers and pleated pants.
Briefs: with jeans and tighter-cut pants.
(blogger's note: the need to don briefs is rendered uneccessary if you just stay away from tight jeans or pants of any sort.)
I added some more material to the previous post on shoes...apparently some people didn't find the information useful enough. Glad to know I have some stylish individuals as my audience.
Continuing on with Style Week, today's discussion will be on socks, as we move on up from shoes. Speaking of socks, I needed some really badly the other day. Some people accused me of being lazy and not wanting to do laundry, but really, I only had like 5 pairs of socks left, and 4 of them were white. Apparently, all my socks conspired to commit mass suicide within the same week. I was down to my last sock, the reserve sock...used only for emergencies, because given any other situation, I'd rather not wear them. It's one of those socks my dad brought back from his trip to Korea, those socks that look like gloves for your feet...they're really popular over there. Supposedly, they're also more hygenic, i guess because since all your little toes are isolated, they tend to perspire less. To me, they just feel weird, but you do get used to it as the day passes on. So anyways, I made my way over to Ross and bought $44 worth of socks...enough to get 15 pairs...i think that's the most socks I've ever purchased at any given time.
Men with pale ankles should always wear socks.
Men with ankles, period, should always wear socks.
Men who refuse to wear socks should be prepared for the consequences of exuding the heady aroma of a locker room.
Besides, your feet will feel cooler if you wear socks.
Because socks wick away moisture better than leather, that's why.
Socks with sandals and dark socks with shorts are statements to be avoided.
Wit or humor should never be expressed through your socks.
Ladies and gents, with today's blog i'm officially kicking off Style Week...no it's not some poor attempt at an April fool's joke (what do i know bout style?). DaSh actually got me this cool book called "Things a Man Should Know About Style", written by the guys who write the Style Guy column for Esquire magazine. I don't completely agree with everything the book says (it's a few years old), but for the next 7 days, I'll be sharing little snippets of style that I think are useful, for your viewing pleasure. So without further adieu, I'll get on with today's topic: shoes.
Shoe size matters most at the ball of your foot, not at the toe (where it's ok for the shoe to be slightly too big), because the ball is where both your foot and the shoe blend.
Try on both the left and right shoe; one foot is usually larger than the other.
Never try on shoes in the morning.
Try on shoes at midday.
Women notice shoes. They also notice nose hair; so should you.
Unshined shoes are the bloodstained hands of style.
Unshined shoes?
Ok then, how about uncombed hair, unshaven face, untrimmed nostrils, unbrushed teeth, unwiped...do we need to go on?
Ninety-dollar shoes last half as long as $180 shoes, but $360 shoes will last you your whole life.
$360 shoes will not last your whole life if you break their backs by refusing to use a shoehorn.
$360 shoes without a shine can look like $90 shoes.
Shoe styles in descending order of dressiness:
formal pumps, plain-toe oxfords, cap-toe oxfords, wing tip or patterned leather oxfords, loafers, bucks, espadrilles, Dr. Scholl's sandals, hip waders, oily rags.
Oxfords is a fancy name for lace-up shoes.
Loafers, which are descended from Indian moccasins and shoes sewn by Norwegian fisherman to wear at sea, are too casual to be worn with business suits.
They are excellent casual shoes however.
And not bad if you're cruising the North Sea for salmon.
If you wear espadrilles, you should feel ashamed. Or French...and ashamed.
Snakeskin shoes: no.
Crocodile shoes: doubtful.
Crocodile shoes in any color other than black or brown: only if you're Barry White.
White shoes are for tennis.
Men named Chick tend to wear shoes with stacked heels.
Shoes with stacked heels, like the name Chick, are inappropriate for men.
Woven shoes are forr men with small feet.
Think twice about woven shoes.
Plain-toe shoes make big feet look bigger than do cap-toe shoes or wing tips.
Cowboy boots make big feet look bigger still. Plus they have stacked heels. Plus they're cowboy boots, for goodness sake.
Of course, plain toe shoes aren't as bad as those big red floppy clown shoes, which make your feel look really big. But in a good way.
