Christ Almighty, is it Valentines Day Again?

Anyone who knows me knows that there is one true thing about me: I loves me some Valentines Day. For me, it's an event that is more cherished than Christmas, Flag Day, Shmini Atzeret, Layla tul Qadr, and my damn birthday all put together. So I celebrated today in style. Tyler style.

First things first, sleep in until about 11:00. I know it's a tough life I'm living, and every ounce of my body wants to leap out of bed and face the day. But no...not today friends...not today. I forced myself to stay put until the dreaded "sleep-in guilt" had taken a strong enough hold. Then, with all the power of a "27 year old man getting out of bed," I got up.

Next step on this day-of-days: romancing. Luckily, I have a special woman in my life. Not only did I go through the tremendous, arduous effort of leaving her a comment with a glittery rose bleeding into a wine glass or something...I also gave what is just about the sweetest picture comment a woman could ever ask for.

But that's not all I done for my woman. People always say "the way to a woman's heart is through her stomach." This always confused me, because I'd always thought it would be quicker to go through the rib cage -- but I guess that's why I failed medical school (that, along with "never applying").

So to get straight to my woman's heart (by way of stomach), I set out to make her a super-romantic dinner. Now, I've been watching a lot of "Top Chef" these last few weeks, and I realized (from watching) just how important "presentation" was to a meal. So, my first step was to prepare an appetizer, or as they call it in the professional chef business, an "amused bush." So I whipped up a little something I like to call "Lightly Spiced Toasted Corn Tortillas with Stewed Tomato and Jalepeno Pico De Gallo."


Damn that looks good

Next stop: the main course. Or, as they call it in the business, "The Main Course." I thought to myself: what does Erika like? When that stumped me, I continued to think to myself, "Hell, what does everyone like?" The answer to that: PIZZA! But wait...Top Chef has prepared me to not just cook up a pizza, slice it, and put it on a plate. Today is a special day, dammit...a day of romance...a day of celebration. And what's more romantic and celebratory than a pizza shaped like a heart? I'll tell you: not a damn thing. So I cooked up a delicious Totino's Pizza (and for those of you loving on a budget, they're 10 for $10 at Safeway this week!!!), and lovingly cut it into the shape that just screams "I LOVE YOU FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER!!!" I garnished it with a banana (which looks just like a beautiful crescent moon, one of Erika's favorite things) and a Coke (which looks like a beautiful full moon, one of Erika's favorite things).


How did I do that!!!?

Last step (and arguably the most important), is desert. Now, I don't have the time (or intelligence) to make something from scratch, so I've got to think on my feet. What do we have that would make a good desert? Then it hits me (or actually I "hit" it when I was scrambling around the kitchen, blinded by tears of fears) -- Erika just bought a dutch apple pie a couple of days ago. It should still be good, right? But you know me, I've been learning how to be all romantic from TV...so I garnished it with something I know Erika loves...for a fact:


Goldfish are for Lovers

But that's not all. You know and I know that Erika loves having the house clean when she comes home from work. That's why I like to "pitch in" to keep the house "sparkling" (almost as sparkling as that beautiful dying rose I put on Erika's MySpace page). Now the one thing that we both hate doing is the dishes. So, I spent a good twenty minutes cleaning all of those dirty dishes that had been piling up in our sink:


Before & After

Now, I could've put them away...but let's be real here -- I have no idea where anything goes. Hell, I haven't opened our cabinets since we moved in. Actually, if you asked me, straight up, "What is a cabinet?" I couldn't tell you in a million years. No joke.

Next chore: make the bed. Now, this one has always been tricky for me, because I've never really been able to wrap my enormous head around the whole "Why make the bed if it's only going to get un-made when you sleep in it?" question. But today I decided to make an exception...and just make the darn thing. Now, Erika's always tried to show me the "correct way" to do this thing (something about a "comforter" "sheet" and "blanket" or something). I just sorta' improvised a bit, but I think I did a pretty fine job:


Before & After

As for the "last part" of the evening...well...that's my specialty really, but unfortunately I can't go into any details here (because eww...gross...). However, I will give you a bit of a sneak peek into just what the young lady has in store for her. I'ma put on her favorite outfit (and I must say that I look positively ravishing in it), lay across the freshly made bed...and beckon. That's all it's going to take: one little beckon. Anyhow, any ladies out there reading this...just imagine the special man in your life looking as good as I do here, and try...just try to resist...I dare you...


Irresistable

A Lean Cuisine Review: Chicken Tuscan

I realized that I was down to only a few Lean Cuisines today -- couple of those delicious panininininis, and the dinner I had been avoiding all week. Chicken Tuscan. I purchased it with the express intention of never actually eating it...it was sorta' like "that nice bottle of scotch you keep unopened in your bar"...or maybe "Kelly Ripa."

But I was really down to it today, so I thought, "Meh, why not." Now, the first thing I think of when hear the word "Tuscan" is this little guy:


(Erika, I'll explain this to you later)

But, sadly, I was not attacked by Sand People when I took the box out of our freezer. Instead, to my great dismay, the cooking instructions flickered across the back: "Peel film cover back from vegetable portion of tray. Add 1 tablespoon of water to vegetables; re-cover." Those included my two least favorite instrucions of all time: "Add" and "Re-cover." I don't mind making slits, even removing covers...but "re-covering?" Unbelievable. Unacceptable! Nooooo!!!

But I did it, as you can see here.



I was not happy about it, and you can be sure that I punched several of our cabinets in rage when I learned about it. Also, did you notice the little drawing of broccoli in the upper-left corner of the box? I think it's giving me the finger? But I digress.

I had another nice little surprise. One of our cats (the stupid one) had decided to set up shop in front of our microwave.



I removed the little freak, and cooked my Chicken Tuscan for an unacceptably long seven-and-a-half minutes. Damn, I was already getting angry, and I hadn't even seen the finished product.

But, seven-and-a-damn-half minutes later here she is...in all of her Tuscan glory:



But I gotta' tell you, it smells pretty good. Not "Chicken with Almonds" good...but good none-the-less. Here's my plate-by-plate comparison:



It was only at this point that I noticed something -- someone had accidentally dropped a fungus onto my food. Something that is spawned in poo has managed to crawl its way onto my plate. This will not stand. So, as tradition holds, I now remove all the parts of the meal that do not agree with me. In this case, I must be rid of this vile fungus, as well as my old nemesis, broccoli.



I tried to save as many carrots as I could...because it's not the carrot's fault that they got lumped together with the insidious broccoli. I think I did a decent job. This nasty (but neccesary) task accomplished, I gather all that is needed to eat this faire (a spoon, a Sprite, some hunger), and dig in.



And here's what I end up with (as you can see, some "devil poop mold" has evaded all of my efforts to track it down):



Well, I'll tell you what, friends...not bad. Not bad at all. The sauce had a little bit of a something-or-other in it that made it a bit tangy (not Orange Peel Chicken tangy...but a more acceptable level that teased the buds without trying to burn them).

The chicken (and there seemed to be an surprisingly high amount of it) had a little bit of something green on it. I'm going to call it "pesto" because it was colored green, and I don't know any other herb names. Anyhow, it was a good choice, because the chicken actually managed to come out of the microwave pretty tender...add that with the spices, and I think the chicken might have been able to stand on its own here.

And they didn't try anything fancy with the noodles -- they weren't all colored weird, or mixed with vegetables or anything. Nope, this was just a nice, linguine-thickness noodle that wasn't so long it couldn't be spooned up.

So, what I when eating this was: I mixed the "vegetables" (carrots, after I'd had my way) with the main dish, and sorta' grabbed spoonfulls of each item. When I managed to get chicken, noodles, and carrots all in one mouthful, it was a very pleasing experience. All the ingredients working in symphony to create an arrangement rivaling the majesty of the "Chicken Yodel." Now, on to the final scoring:

Prep: This is about as bad as it gets -- I'm making a frozen dinner, not a real dinner. Wise up, Mr. Cuisine. 3

Appearance: Not too bad...I mean, the box didn't look all that great to begin with...so the cooked meal gave you just about what you were expecting. 7

Taste: Very nice. Tangy enough that I'm still feeling it a bit 5 minutes later. Hell, I'm seriously considering sopping some of that sauce up with a piece of bread. But I won't...becuase that borders on "sad." 9

Filling: Also feeling quite filled up. This is what a dinner-plate should feel like when she's done. 8

Cool Factor: Well, the whole Tusken Raider connection automatically makes this dish pretty cool...too bad they screwed up their possible great scores with including the two worst foods ever invented: broccoli and mushrooms. 7

Final Score: 6.8

I Said I'd Never Add A Song...

Well...I lied. But this is only because I found the most moving, touching, and frankly, "good" piece of music my ears ever laid eyes on. I must say...I cried when I heard "Chicken Yodel" the first time.

I dare you...no...double dare you...no...just "single dare" you...to listen to the entire song.

Startling Realization

So I had a startling realization today...it was crazy. I was feeling around my dome (you may also call it a "pate" or "scalp") and my fingers gently caressed something they hadn't caressed before. A good chunk of head, minus that healthy hair coating that people have. "Nonsense," I muttered to myself in an impeccable, highly-trained English dialect. I grabbed by camera and looked for visual evidence. Now, this may shock some, so if you're weak-stomached, turn away now:



I looked at my little LCD screen and gasped audibly. What the hell happened? I mean...I was doing so well "not thinking" about it...and during all that wishful ignorant time, things seem to have gotten worse.

Well, I am nothing if not a "man of action." Quickly, I started drinking heavily (this is my response to most of life's problems). After the 3rd or 4th glass or orange juice, I was pretty well sauced (and not thirsty any more). I knew what I needed to do: see what Amazon.com recommends.

Oddly enough, Amazon took me by the hand, calmed me down, gave me some Tums for my acid indigestion problems (that was a lot of orange juice in a very short period of time), and whispered in my ear: "Minoxidil." I said "Did you mean Minotaur?" "No, Minoxidil." "Minnick v Mississippi?" "Minoxidil. Here, let me show you."

And Amazon took me on a lovely little trip over to Rogaine.com. "Oh! Rogaine? Amazon, why didn't you just say Rogaine?" "Because there's copyright issues, and stuff. I don't know." "That's fine, Amazon...how much for some sweet, sweet Rogaine?" "Only fifty dollars for a 3 month supply." There was an awkward silence. "Um...how much for the cheap generic brand?" "Thirty dollars for a four month supply...on sale." "SOLD!"

So I'm off to the not at all embarassing world of hair regrowth formula (it's somewhere between "buying condoms at a grocery store" and "boner pills" on the embarassing scale). I've done a little scientific research using the best applications available to me (Microsoft Paint), and here's a projection of the full, lustrous, sexy head of hair I'm 'bout to have:



Oh, and my cat will become a pirate...and I will replace the "QWER" on my keyboard with "POOP." Because the word poop is, I believe, fairly funny.

I'll check back with updates. Full, sexy, unnatural head of hair? Here I come...

A Lean Cuisine Review: Orange Peel Chicken

That's right, now that I don't "work" during the day (or, really, at all) I've found that I have an abundance of two things: time & frozen foods. So I've decided to try my hand at something: food reviewer. See, I eats me a ton of, what I like to call Lean Cuisines (because that's what they're called). Today, I will be trying the Orange Peel Chicken dinnertime selects, because this week at Safeway, the "dinners" were cheaper than the smaller-portion lunches (though, note to the good people at Lean Cuisine, could you lay off the goddamn broccoli just a little bit? I mean, no one actually likes broccoli. No one. I've checked).

Anyhow, on with this review.

The first thing I look at on a Lean Cuisine is the cooking times. I was amazed at the Orange Peel Chicken cooking time: 4:00 to 5:30 minutes, and you don't slit the plastic wrap! Holy Toledo, I've never seen this before, in all my 27 years of eating frozen dinners! No prep, just throw the bitch in the microwave! Wow!

The next thing I look at is the picture on the box. This one looks pretty damn tasty, nasty broccoli business aside. Now, here's what actually came out of the microwave:

I thought, maybe that's not fair, so I decided to put on my food dressing hat, and place the little bastard on a white plate, arranged like it was on the box. I think I did a pretty damn fine job.

Now, step two, after cooking the meal, is to throw away all of the crappy parts of the meal. In this case, sayonara, broccoli.

Step three, get what you need to really enjoy the meal. Here, it's a fork, and a Sprite.

Finally, eat the damn thing. I'll spare you those messy pictures, needless to say, when it was finished, my beautiful white plate (that I'm going to have to wash now) looked a little something like this:

First off, I must say this: I believe "orange" and "meat" go very well together. It's a very happy marriage 90% of the time. And this meal was no exception. The sauce tasted (incredibly) like orange. However, I must admit, it was a bit spicier than I would have liked. Don't get me wrong -- spicy has its place. Unfortunately, that place is in a Mexican Restaurant, not a typically mundane frozen dinner.

Now, you notice that I ate this with a fork? Big mistake; this is a spoon-eatin' affair. This is because the rice has all the "flavor" of "unflavored white rice." It's up to you to get some of that spicy orange sauce onto the somewhat chalky white rice. Once this is done, the rice becomes palatable (even better if you can mix a chunk of chicken or two with the rice -- something very difficult to pull off armed solely with a fork).

But it's not fair to compare a Lean Cuisine to an ordinary dinner, of course. And I would never be so petty. However, we do need a little perspective. It looks like Lean Cuisine has already posted reviews for their Orange Peel Chicken here, but those blurbs are obviously either ghost-written by staff memebers, or stammered out by total morons.

For instance: "Wow, this meal was delicicious! The chicken was tender and the breading didn't get soggy in the microwave. I adored the fabulous sauce, the zesty flavor of orange added an incredible zing to the veggies and chicken. Its destined to be a favorite dinner for me on a summer night. Melissa H. Saint Peters, MO"

A) The chicken was soggy. B) The sauce was too spicy. C) The veggies you speak of were crappy broccoli and (I think) pepper slivers already mixed in with the rice.

But I digress. Here's my final scores, from 1-10:

Prep: No cutting! Fast cook times! AWESOME! 9

Appearance: Chicken too small, rice too big, and BAH! BROCCOLI! 5

Taste: Not the worst in the world, but too damn spicy. 7

Filling: Well, it got the job done. I guess I'm not hungry any more...still, I would have expected more food on a dinner item. 6

Cool Factor: Sounds like a fancy restaurant meal, but really just spicy sauce over breaded chicken and carrots next to crappy rice and broccoli. Plus, I didn't see a single orange peel in the entire meal. 5

Final Score: 6.4

Famous By Association

So hey, I know someone who was on TV (other than myself). Not just TV, but American Idol. Anyhow, just if you were curious, I went to high school with this guy:

I changed the dimensions of that picture a little bit...just to blow your collective minds, and to make his faux-hawk look even faux-ier.

Anyhow, his name is Blake Lewis. I can't remember the context in which I knew him (you'd probably remember him as the "beat-box guy" if you saw the episode), but it probably had something to do with acting...or choir...or something. He was far too "hip" for me to know in any other context.

But it got me thinking about those crazy days I like to call "1995-1998." (which most people would call "high school"). Those were some wacky times; not close enough to the year 2000 to be memorable, but not tacky enough to be in the early 90's.

Now, I didn't consider myself a social pariah in high school (because I didn't know what the word "pariah" meant...hell, I still don't), but I remember being incorrigibly arrogant. I don't know if it was just me -- I think all high school kids are arrogant -- I don't think there's anything wrong with that...it's a phase we all go through...but I digress...

The point is, I found that, in high school, I was always more comfortable in the company of the "less-than-poopular" kids (I said "poop"). Whilst the "in" crowd was out-'n'-about being dumb teenagers, I was sitting on my couch slogging through the latest installment of Final Fantasy.

I didn't go to a single "party" that didn't revolve around board games or video games of some kind. At the time I considered myself to be fairly mobile in the social strata of high school...but always ending up near the "Magic The Gathering" crowd (never actually playing the game, mind you...just near them).

So now, being the incredibly cool, hip, happening, balding, late-20-something that I am, I look back and think, "Was I 'not cool' in high school?" It's a sobering thought. I look at the evidence: my two main activities were "theater" and "band." Of the 161 members of my class on MySpace, 5 of them are on my "friends" list. Pretty grim...

But I don't know, really. I guess it doesn't make that much of a difference now -- my fiancee is a former high school cheerleader, so my revenge is completely realized at this point. However, should I ever get the chance to see a 16 year old Tyler in action...about the town...I wonder if, looking back through the prizm of experience, I'd be dismayed at my socially oblivious nature.

Now this post seems to be verging on the cusp of a pity party, thrown for myself in my apartment, that no one shows up to, and I end up spending half of the night cradling my phone while looking hopefully out the window at the passing cars, and the rest of the night weeping quietly on my couch, eating a bowl of burnt microwave popcorn and watching "Gilmore Girls." No, I beg of you to "holster" your pity, in case you were considering drawing.

In fact, I think this whole post is bordering on solipsism, and I think it's best to wrap things up before I get too self-indulgent. I didn't enter blithely into the "blog" business just to bare my soul for all to see. I came to use big words, and write about bears mauling monkeys. Time to get this bad boy back on track...

Success

Well, I did it. I win. Guess who knows 100 damn people who might in some way consider themselves to be my "friend." Me, baby. Me. Props to Ophelia, friend #100, for sending out the historic request (though, I must admit, the default photo did make me a little suspicious. But you are blessedly, and literally real. God Bless you for that.

What's next? Well, my "blog views" are hovering dangerously near 1,500, but that's nothing to shout about (besides, I only shout curse words, and Laverne and Shirley quotes).

Though, surely with amazing blog entries like this one, I'm sure to skyrocket past that distant 1,500 goal. Well, it's late (for normal human beings), and I'm cold, and tired...so this is what you get. Sorry. They can't all be winners. In fact, far as I can tell, only a few of them are winners. Especially not this one.