Monthly Archives: September 2007

Ruskin Sucskins

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Tonight we went over to Bob’s parents’ house to try out the new “Irish pub,” Ruskin O’Brien’s. Overall, it was horrible. I guess I can give it some slack due to the fact that it has only been opened for one week. But, no, I’m not. Run down of cons:

1. When walking in, we were not immediately greeted nor seated. We seated ourselves.

2. Waitress did not come up to us for a while and when she did, we HAD to ask for menus. Which we only got one to share amongst the four of us. And it was two pieces of paper stapled together.

3. They didn’t have half of the menu. There were no salads, no sweet potato fries, ran out of some other items.

4. Did not receive our food for 45 minutes. It’s bar food, for goodness sake, how hard could it be!

5. Had to ask the waitress to check on our food. Once we received our food, we had to ask her for silverware!

6. I ordered the grilled chicken sandwich. What I ended up with was a charred, rubbery chicken sandwich with no toppings. I had to ask for lettuce, tomatoes, pickles and onions. And they didn’t have onions! The freakin’ Marsala’s Market is across the street! Plus, very bland steamed vegetables.

Terrible food, terrible service. Terrible shame. I really don’t like to hate on restaurants but this one left me no choice.

I’ve finally been defined.

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As someone who was born in in 1978, I’ve never really had an identity. Depending on which study or article you are reading, I’m either at the tail end of Generation X or the very front of Generation Y. Traditional Gen X pillars like “Reality Bites” and “The Breakfast Club” and “The Real World” don’t mean a goddamn thing to me because I was too young and too male and too cableless to care about them when they were out. And since I’m not infected with Gen Y’s bizarre obsession with nostalgia (see: I Love the 80′s, I Love the 90′s, hell — All of VH1), I never really got into those things retroactively. As a consequence, I’ve never really seen my tastes in Pop Culture labeled as an easily-defined demographic. That is, of course, until today.

Quirked Around explores the upper middle class indie sensibilities that I find so compelling and defines it as “Quirk”. In doing so, he tags numerous works of pop culture (as well as The Evident Patron Saint of Quirk: Ira Glass) as belonging to this particular movement, and with the dual exceptions of Arrested Development (never really got into it) and the new Flight of the Conchords show (I liked them two years ago, when they had the One Night Stand special. Now that everyone knows about them, I’m over it.) the author Michael Hirschorn might as well be describing my bookshelf and DVD collection.

So I guess I’m Quirky™? Or a Quirker™? I’m not sure.

Anyway. Now you know.

Found via the always awesome BuzzFeed.

Mr. Squeakers is Sick

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I hate car maintenance. I hate the fact that you have to spend so much money on something that just depreciates. But I can’t live without my car, I must drive it until it dies (I’m thoroughly enjoying the fact that I do not have a car payment). Therefore, I have to maintain it, keep it in top form, or at least, okay form. So, that means new windshield wipers, 4 new tires, new brakepads and an oil change. Two down, two more to go…this sucks.

A Wonderful Wichita Weekend

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Last weekend, we saw Laura, Freddie and Baby Alexander out in Wichita. It was really great to see them because the last time we seen each other was on the cruise, almost a year ago. This would also be our first meeting with Alexander.

I’m sure you guys are all wondering how well we survived three days of baby and I have to admit, I don’t think we did too bad. Bob and I are apparently very heavy sleepers because we did not hear the baby crying in the middle of the night and he was next door. Laura would apologize the next morning about the baby crying and we would look confused and say, “We didn’t hear anything, he was crying?” Makes me wonder if I’m going to hear my child cry (probably not because I love sleep). We were able to hold the baby without looking like he was going to give us some deadly disease. Sure, they shoved Alexander in our arms early on but as time went on, we began to pick him up on our own. Now I did not have the pleasure of changing his diaper (that’s because I put my foot down on that chore) but Bob did get to choose a new onesie and dress Alexander one morning. Very adorable. He is such a happy baby, it was so much fun seeing him smile and laugh. We just adored him. The best part of it all was whenever he got the slightest bit fussy, Bob or I would just give him back to Mommy or Daddy.

We had such a fun time with them and we can’t wait for them to come here so Alexander can meet our “baby,” Kuma.

View Photo Set on Flickr.