All my hard work, gone in an hour!

Yesterday evening I had dinner with my father and some of his co-workers at a Brazilian Barbeque place (I alluded to it in the post about the piano). The food was great, the salad bar had everything you could possibly want in a salad bar, the wine, atmosphere (minus hilarious piano music selection), and servers were all top notch. I ended up having a big salad, whcih I was warned before hand not to do, and while I was working my way through that the servers started bringing around the various dripping meats. It was a who's who of delicious meat, and I tried to moderate which ones I tried, and the amount of bacon that was wrapped around like half of the different things was significant. I also don't like bacon (I know it's weird) but if it's wrapped around a piece of sirloin then I'll buck up and eat it. My favorite was the skirt steak, which was like 90% fat but tasted amazing, the baby back ribs were also amazing as was basically everything that came by our table. The point of all this is to say that not only was the meal good, it was also filling even though it contained relatively few calories.

But regardless of the amount of calories, it becomes clear pretty quickly that with such a big meal, all the hard work and exercise I'd put in during the weekend was destroyed in a blaze of glaze and barbeque goodness. I went for a bike ride on saturday, went to the gym later in the day, worked out friday night, went boxing and wrestling sunday morning and then went for a run to blow off steam when the eagles lost (godamn Eagles). I ate relatively well especially on sunday and monday and then didn't booze much. But Brazilian Barbeque wrecked all that, I might as well have been smoking cigarettes while sitting on a chair made of jelly doughnuts all weekend! Damn you and your delicious selection of 18 meats brought to the table by handsome servers! Damn you and your all too tempting salad bar with everything I could ever want! Damn you and your funny and engaging waiter named Benny! I'll get you Benny, if it's the last thing I do...which if I've just had another huge meal at your restaurant it will be.

Sharp as a cotton ball sometimes

For days and weeks I've been talking to folks in DC about what they are doing during the inauguration. I had stories from dozens of people letting me know that all federal workers are staying home today and not going to work. Hell even my father and some of his co-workers scheduled business out here in San Diego during this time period so he didn't have to be in town for the extra crowds. I talked about it LAST NIGHT how no federal workers were going to work in DC today...and yet I was bright enough to complain to my boss that several folks who work in the Pentagon hadn't answered my e-mail/calls from Friday afternoon yet today....

An old take on a new classic?

At a restaurant last night they had a piano player rocking out to all kinds of crazy tunes. He hit up Coldplay, and did "Under Pressure" by Queen, had some other really odd choices for piano tunes. You just don't expect to hear contemporary or classic rock songs coming from a piano at a nice restaurant like that. It was good don't get me wrong, but just odd that the selection of music was so eclectic given that there are so many great piano songs to choose from (my personal favorite is "Wonder Boy"). It's like if you were at a wedding, everyone was all dressed up nicely and it was elegant, then the DJ started playing KISS or NWA or something out of place. It just doesn't quite fit, like lounge music at a formal dinner (although if Richard Cheese was playing I'm sure it would be amazing).

The best was when the pianist started playing "Stairway to Heaven". Nothing like a little Led Zeppelin with your meal. The best part was during the song various people in my party would break out singing parts or doing air guitar, just rocking out and laughing at the piano cover of the greatest song ever. I especially enjoyed the part towards the end of the song where they have that huge Jimmy Page guitar solo and the song goes from being a soft calm song to a bit more rock and roll. You knew that the crescendo of a piano probably wasn't going to match the enthusiasm of a wicked sweet guitar solo, but the pianist did his best and had me rocking out in an odd setting (read: innappropriate). Although I guess it's not odd if the pianist at the restaurant is the one playing these rock hits, I was hoping him might break into some Black Sabbath or maybe some Aerosmith to go with my second glass of wine.

Life here is hard

Today (14 January) at lunch the temperature was around 73 degrees, sunny, not a cloud in the sky. How do people live in this place for years dealing with weather like this? I forgot my sunglasses at home and had to walk to get lunch into the sun. I was forced to squint and sometimes cover my eyes with my hands to provide shade. Unbearable. The hardships and the climate of this place is just so bizzare I don't know how people can stand it. I don't want anyone to cry for me or try to help me, but I'm not wearing short sleeves today, so I might feel slightly overdressed when I walk around the base today. It's ok, I'll adapt and overcome, try to adjust to these extreme weather conditions.

Someone seriously told me today, "This is like D.C., except there you need sunglasses because the snow is so bright." Lord knows how he's been able to survive out here in this challenging climate, it's what separates the men from the boys.

My new life coach

So there I was, sitting in a dive bar at 9 in the morning saturday morning in Las Vegas eating breakfast. It was a nice little place well off the strip and the food was fantastic. On my left was my friend and this girl he'd met the night before, on my right was my new life coach. Yes as I sat there eating my delicious breakfast (and it was fucking fantastic) the drunk man at the bar next to me started talking to me. It turned out that this guy was a retired Cirque du Soleil actor and former Olympic gymnast from Romania.

Turns out Marius had won a bronze medal in the highbar at the Seoul Olympics and had placed 15th in the overall competition, he also competed in Barcelona. After that he went and worked for Cirque du Soleil for 10 years. But on this particular day he took to the time to explain to me what was wrong with my fitness plans, which sports he liked and why I shouldn't like Manchester United. In the space of 20 minutes he insulted my workouts, my sports teams, my choice of athletic endeavors, and which MMA fighters I liked. All in all it was a humbling yet wonderful experience that ended slightly prematurely (like all my sexual experiences) when his wife came into the bar and dragged his drunk ass out to the car.

However in the wake of this encounter it's made me wonder if that's not exactly what I need, a daily reminder of what's wrong with my life from a drunk former athlete at 9 in the morning. A refreshing look at my life from the perspective of a storied Romanian Olympian. For all his criticisms he was a really nice guy and I enjoyed talking to him immensely. I'm thinking of calling him up and asking him to be my new guiding light. A life counselor if you will, a coach to keep me on the straight and narrow. And then his wife to drag him out before he's done criticising something.

Happy Three Kings day!

Or as I like to call it, Mortality Reminder Day. When people ask me what I'm doing for my birthday it's as if they want me to tell them I'm doing something crazy stupid. Because they always seem disappointed with the answer I usually give, which is, "Bike to work, work, go to the gym at lunch, and then go home and cook myself dinner." I think for whatever reason people want me to give a much more extreme answer, something more age appropriate I guess like, "I'm going to get hella drunk and then break into the zoo and headbutt all the marsupials after I get done making out with strippers." Maybe that's what I'll say next time someone asks me.

I do dislike my birthday, it's an annual reminder of all I've failed at and what I've gotten worse at over the last year. Sure I could dwell on what I've accomplished or the things that I've done well. But I'd rather think about how much older and worse looking I am, and how I'm likely to die alone in a failed auto erotic asphyxiation attempt. (I'm kidding about all this...or am I?) Maybe I'll hold off on doing that until I'm 30 or something.

A simple equation you can follow

Boxing + Wrestling + Working out=Hurty Ribs
Hurty Ribs + Uncomfortable bed= No sleep
No Sleep + Low amount of work = You're not gonna have a good time


The shame of it is that I didn't think my ribs even hurt that bad until I was in bed, and I didn't even get punched in the stomach! We were just training. But apparently I have to suffer with even less sleep if my ribs hurt, so the 2-3 hours I get turns into 0. Not cool.