I taste like Jager Bomb

After a three hour nap yesterday, I had the pleasure of attending the 2nd Annual Billig Beer Fest at the Century Bar and Grill in Centennial, Wyoming. "Billig," I am told, means cheap in German. Hence, the fest lived up to its name; it featured a lineup of Lost Lake, Lost Lake Ice, Lost Lake Light, Milwaukee's Best and its Light version, Natural Ice, Schafer Light, Old Milwaukee, and Coors Extra Gold, each just $1 a can. There were reviews posted from the World Wide Web, and I'm pretty sure most attendees sampled most of the beers. They ranged from poor to extremely poor, and being the beer snob that I am, I only made it through five of them before I moved on to a very tasty local beer.

The event took place under a sail (yes, a sail from a sailboat, or schooner if you will) outside the bar. It was nestled in a very picturesque grove of aspen. Hot dogs and burgers were served. Evidently they forgot the veggie burgers, probably because there are no vegetarians between here and Fort Collins, Colorado. Four bands played, including one that featured a washboard bass played by a guy in a pink flannel shirt. Dogs were abundant, as were shoeless hippies. Luckily, I didn't get a haircut this week, because I would have stuck out like a sore thumb.

As the night went on, it cooled (as it often does at night) and we moved inside, where two friends and I pretty much split a bottle of Jameson. I started drinking water around eight PM, anticipating a long night. At ten or eleven, we moved to the Beartree to watch blues guitarist Carl Weathersby, who was excellent. We stood outside watching stars for awhile, and there is no place to stargaze than Centennial, Wyoming.

As the night wore on, the band ceased and people filtered out of the bar. At this point, we all decided that a Jager Bomb would be most appropriate. For those of you that don't know, a Jager bomb is a standard-size shot (1.5 fl. oz.) of Jagermeister dropped (hence the bomb) into 2.25 ounces of Red Bull or other similar energy drink. The drink was immortalized in the 2006 YouTube video, "My New Haircut," which I very strongly encourage you to watch if you haven't already. You can purchase a Jager Bomb for only $15 at most bars in NYC.

Anyway, I am pretty sure if an alien were to land in Wyoming and eat me right now, I would taste like Jager Bomb. My blood would run out in that brownish-yellowish-reddish color that would be named Jager Bomb if it were released as a Crayola crayon. And the alien would probably be pretty wasted. And now that I think of it, it wouldn't matter if it were an alien, a bear, or another person like in the movie Alive; I would still taste like Jager Bomb. I just had a great idea, which is putting a stick in Jager Bomb, freezing it, and selling it as a Jager Bomb pop.

In other matters, the preseason schedule of the NFL starts today, ending a drought of 2 months without either of my favorite sports.

Meet the parents!

Today's a special day, because it's the day you're going to meet my parents. They're pretty great. First, my dad (both parents will remain unnamed). He is a retired Air Force major, and we currently share the same occupation: nothing. He is much more detail-oriented and thrifty than I am. Here's a picture of him, on the right (the student I used to mentor is on the left):





OK, that's actually Tom Osborne, best football coach ever. He's pretty good too. Look at how excited he is! Here's a real picture of my dad (it's been a few years; check the shades on the guy on the left! He was part of the band Winger once upon a time.) This was back when the Chicago Bulls were good, the first time Jordan played for them.

He loves flying, Canadian bacon on his pizza, and a well-fitting inexpensive suit (of which he has sixty or more). Sometimes people say we look alike!

Here's my mom: she is a very happy speech language pathologist. She enjoys gardening, helping children, and Christmas sweaters, all year round. She plans to write a children's book someday and has promised to employ me as an editor if I have yet to find gainful employment. At some point in the early decade, she discovered Romaine lettuce, and will no longer eat iceberg (is iceberg even capitalized? Unclassy lettuce!) Here she is, I believe at the Berkshire-Hathaway meeting this year in Borsheim's.

They are really, really, really excited about the prospect of me dating someone, getting engaged, getting married, and having kids (I think the last two could be transposed in their wishes). I believe that right now, at this moment, they are attempting to sell me for the highest dowry (or lowest dower, for that matter) to the woman that meets the following descriptions: Over 20, under 31, no felonies, all teefas remaining, minimal visible tattoo, and some employment prospects.

We also have a cat, and mom and dad widely refer to me as the cat's "brother" indicating that I and my sister are on equal footing with the cat as far as love, money, and last will and testament go. I am pretty sure they assure the cat that it's their favorite child in my absence, kind of like Mini-Me in Austin Powers:International man of Mystery.

So you have the quick intro to the parental unit. Anyway, I must go as I am iron-cheffing right now (I don't cook; I Iron Chef). On the menu: Tri-color rotini with homemade garlic parmesan tomato basil sauce, bruschetta with fresh buffalo mozzarella and Roma tomato, Caesar salad with vinaigrette and shredded mozarrella, a nice imported Chianti, and probably chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Retirement, hey!

A Neighborly Confrontation

Yesterday I sat at dinner with a neighbor and my parents, discussing neighborhood issues. I have, over the last few years, realized that as one get older and solidify your professional and social relationships and develop a routine (which can be difficult to break), your worries become smaller and smaller issues, and disputes get pettier. This set the background for my confrontation with a neighbor today.

We live in a subdivision outside a small, unincorporated village 30 miles outside Laramie, Wyoming. There is a small gravel road that traverses the subdivision. The road is owned, in places, by the adjacent property's homeowner, while in other places it is owned by the original developer, who still lives in the subdivision. In front of one woman's property, she has placed rocks (some quite large) by the side of the road to "defend" her property-line from the grading machine, which goes around about four times a year to level the gravel. When the road is graded, she parks her cars in front of her property to prevent the grader from impinging on her property and, over time, eroding into her claim.

While I respect her right to prevent dimunition of her property, the rocks in the road could damage cars or the grading machine itself if they were not seen. This is especially a concern in the winter. Furthermore, a car that strayed too far toward the rocks could see its tires or wheel covers damaged.

The local neighbors and neighborhood association have spent hours upon hours debating strategies to prevent this woman from making our subdivision less beautiful. It often seems they are being as passive-aggressive as possible in these strategies, so I took matters into my own hands.

Driving home today, I parked my car in the grass across from her home, exited my car, and proceeded to pick up the rocks in the road and toss them into her yard. I have done this several times over the past few weeks, and she replaces the rocks faithfully. This time she witnessed me moving the rocks, and the following conflict ensued (my smartass rating was an eleven):

Lady: "Hey! Hey! What are you doing?"
RetiredJK: "I'm moving these rocks out of the road, I can't figure out how they got here."
Lady: "I put them in the road!"
RJK: "They must be removed. It's simply unsafe to have large rocks in the road, and it disturbs the natural habitat."
Lady: "I will call the sheriff if you keep moving the rocks."
RJK: "I pledge to keep moving the rocks."
Lady: "What is your name sir?"
RJK: "Mohammed."
RJK: "Abdul."
Lady: "What is your last name?"
RJK: "Mohammed." (again, I kind of look like an Arab with my big bushy black beard.) ( I think she went for it.)
Lady: "Hello.... Mohammed."
(I try to shake her hand unsuccessfully)
Lady: "Do you live here?"
RJK: "No, I trek out here from Laramie just to move the rocks out of the road."
Lady: "I'm calling the sheriff."
RJK: "Please do, again my name is Mohammed Abdul Mohammed, and my phone number is 307-777-7777. Praise be to Allah."
Lady: "I am calling the sheriff."
RJK: "You're nuts."

I am driving back to my home now and I plan on removing the other half of the rocks.

Also, I am sitting at the public library listening to Centennial Book Club, and I have realized that book clubs are simply excuses for married women to get together, drink wine, and gossip.

I am Trivia Wizard

Congratulations are in order! Yesterday, I became the grand trivia wizard of Centennial, Wyoming. I was playing one of those interactive video games at the Century Bar and Grill (adjacent to the Friendly Store) in Centennial, Wyoming, when I realized that there was a true master in town; he had answered all 15 questions correctly and quickly to gain an excellent score of 65,000,000. Try as I might, I could not defeat this master of useless knowledge. That is, I could not defeat him until he introduced himself at the bar and I saw what I was up against. Craig-- not the stereotypical trivia guru-- had just informed me of his involvement in a time-share money-making scheme. This did not bode well for his intelligence. But as I watched him play, he slowly gained my confidence.


I took over the machine after he failed to identify Sofia as the capital of Bulgaria. His knowledge of eastern European and Soviet bloc republic capitals was clearly not up to snuff! I failed my first attempt, as I did not know that Americans have not only the highest divorce rate in the world but also the highest marriage rate. America, F yeah! My second round started easily as I identified Enya as the Welsh new age artist of Only Time fame (although my personal favorite Enya tune is Flora's Secret). I went on to identify 25% of the world's population as communist and Kiev as the captial of Ukraine; as said earlier, capitals figure heavily into the game. Ten questions later, it was me vs. machine with only two questions left.


The fourteenth and toughest question was to identify Stephen King's thriller horror book about a posessed automobile; after eliminating "Posessed Car" (that was really a choice) and "Carrie," I luckily guessed "Christine" and was rewarded with 23 million points, putting me at 45 million and in position to wipe out Craig's two-month-old record. The final question? A gimme: "What game did Charles Darrow invent?" As if I hadn't taken enough people for their money in my youth to know the answer was Monopoly. I answered quickly for 46 million points, putting my total score in the stratospheric 91 million range. (Darrow later sold the game to Parker Bros. after many failed attempts to sell it to other game makers failed-- ed.)


I celebrated with a glass of champagne and some peanuts, the remains of which I tossed on the floor as per custom. The former record holder cried into his beer over a game of cribbage with a hippie. I could hardly sleep last night as I strained to contain my excitement; it also did not help that I had napped for four hours during the day. The life of a trivia player is thus fraught with danger and excitement.

Day #1 at the Office

I blog today as a rich man... rich, that is, in the experience of having been a bartender/waiter. Note the slash in the predicative nominative; that's right, my job description expanded to include waiting tables between five and six PM when our waitress drives out from Laramie. But I get ahead of myself. Let me first introduce you to my place of business.

Sorry about the second picture, I found it on the web and it was only available in very small photos. It is, as you may have surmised from the sign above, The Centennial Trading Post. It includes a bar, restaurant, package liquor store (a.k.a. off-sale), dinner theatre, and art gallery. Note that theatre is spelled the British way. It's that damn good.

Anyway, let me tell you about my first day at work. The first cocktail I ever served was a Budweiser, neat. My first tip was a quarter even though I got pretty excited when I thought it was a dollar coin. The gentleman who stopped in really just wanted to use the restroom, but seeing that I hadn't had a customer in two hours, I told him that only paying customers could use the restroom, which earned me a quarter.

Throughout the evening, business remained slow. My total take: $54 in hourly wages (paid biweekly) and $13 in tips over 7 hours. So if you figure out the hourly wage, I'm right on par with my prior career as an internal medicine resident. I'm waiting for some wealthy out-of-towners to stop in and stay all night so I can make some bank on tips.

Anyway, I must go now, as my second day of work calls. The volunteer librarian seems to have sleep apnea, and is falling asleep at the desk and hitting his head every minute or so while ABC news radio plays in the background. More details tomorrow.

Interesting Patient encounters, volume 2: A 19-year-old male with an "STD"

I was working in a rural county jail when this occurred. The patient is a slender, somewhat sickly looking 19 yo male. I did not ask what his alledged crime involved. The following is the harrowing account of how I came to diagnose his "STD" and my recommended "treatment."

RetiredJK: "When was the last time you were sexually active?"

Jailed Patient: "About 8 months ago."
RJK: "Did you use protection?"
JP: "No."
RJK: "Do you have sex with women?"
JP: "Yes."
RJK: "The occasional dude?"
JP: "NO!"
RJK: "You're sure? You are.... in jail after all."
JP: "Never."
RJK: "When did you first notice symptoms?
JP: "About a week ago."
RJK: "What kind of symptoms are you having?"
JP: "It's like a rash. On the side of my penis."
RJK: "Any painful discharge? Burning when you pee?"
JP: "No sir."
RJK: "Well let's have a look-see!"
(Examination reveals a slightly ulcerated, excoriated lesion on the right side of his penis; otherwise normal exam."
RJK: "Sir do you ever masturbate?"
JP (clearly embarrassed): "Uhh.... yeah."
RJK: "And you're right-handed."
JP: "Yeah (?)"
RJK: "Sir, I do not think you have an STD. Why don't you take it easy for awhile? Utilize your left hand when you return to masturbation. Or switch sides each time. This should resolve in few days."
JP: (relief)

Recipe Ideas for a Moderately New Millenium

Disclaimer: None of these recipes are moderately healthy. They may cause health problems in the short and/or long terms. Not recommended for small children, people with heart problems, or high blood pressure. Also, I shall give credit to sous chef/co-author Katherine Orr (Harvard '04) for some of the ideas in this article. The essence, however, remains mine.

Chicken Fried Steak and Mashed Potato-Corn-Bacon-New England Clam Chowder
1. Obtain Chicken Fried Steak (CFS heretofore)
2. Cover in mashed potatoes. Sprinkle corn atop.
3. Take bacon from a local salad bar and mix with New England Clam Chowder. Douse the CFS with this mixture.
4. Enjoy!
(Optionally, you can substiture macaroni and cheese for the potato layer.)

Very Berry Fruity Pebbles A La Mode Numero Uno
1. Pour Fruity Pebbles in a medium-sized bowl.
2. Cover in rasberry/blueberry mixture.
3. Single scoop vanilla ice cream, or berry-flavored vanilla-based ice cream.
4. Top with favorite ice cream toppings.
5. Enjoy! Can be shared with a friend.

Teriyaki Taco
1. Nuke Chinese food reftovers (I use broccori beef but anything is fine-- try mu shu pork also!) and place in flour tortirra.
2. Nuke mexican food leftovers (can substitute canned beans and rice and veggies) and place atop Chinese food in tortilla.
3. Nuke entire mixture with lots of shredded cheese and cajun seasoning (I suggest Tony Chachere's).
4. Enjoy!

Peanut Butter and Bacon, Egg, Cheese and Jelly Sandwich
1. Make bacon and egg over medium while toasting bread (white or wheat). Top bacon and egg with slice of American or cheddar or Monterey Jack cheese.
2. Slather bread with peanut butter and jelly.
3. Add banana if you're feeling crazy.
4. Make a sandwich or it and enjoy!

Sushi Leftovers and Eggs
Most people don't take their leftover sushi home, but this recipe can be a real winner with sushi up to 36 hours old.
1. Place sushi in pan with sesame oil. Cook until warm and douse in soy sauce and wasabi.
2. Crack two eggs on top of the sushi and cook quickly. Chinese leftovers can be added if available.
3. Enjoy!

Also, some people marvel at my ability to make an ordinary dish better. Here are some simple tips for improving average food.
1. Add bacon
2. Add more bacon.
3. Add mayonnaise.
4. Add cheese.

If these tips don't work you should probably not eat it.