#CJKWorkshop

[joeysworkbench]

Frosted Nanner Bread

If you want this…

Do this!

In three separate bowls

- mix milk and cider vinegar, let sit. It’s going to smell funny and look fucking awful but trust me it’s necessary, 4 generations can’t be wrong ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

- mash 3 super ripe bananas with fork, let sit. Do it with a fork, by hand, it’s the only way to get the proper gooey but still kinda chunky texture. Also don’t be afraid to let your bananas start going brown, that’s the perfect Nanner Bread ripeness.

- cream sugar and shortening, add eggs and beat. Good ole Crisco and granulated sugar. No substitutes, if you’re going to make sweets, do it right, do it for real. Make sure you mix these two really well before you add the eggs, again with a fork by hand is the best way.

Add dry goods to beaten mix

- Add flour a little bit at a time constantly mixing. Throw the baking powder and soda in last. You want to keep the mixture moist the whole time. It should start looking like dough pretty quickly but don’t let it turn into a mountain of flour, throwing powder all over the kitchen.

- take your time and mix by hand with a wooden spoon, none of that mechanical beater crap, you’re making a fine confection here, respect tradition and put some love into it, you’ll thank me later. This is going to get hard if you do it right, so maybe come take a few training sessions with me first to build up that upper body strength. 💪  👍   #ScienceFitnessPlug

Add mashed banana and milk mix

-Add milk first and loosen up the dough again, keep using that wooden spoon!

-Put vanilla in the mix and stir in, use as much as you want but know that the more you use the less banana you’ll taste in the finished bread. Remember that baking is a science not an art, so you need to use exact measurements and proven ratios, but even in science there are happy accidents, so feel free to experiment after you have mastered the proven recipe.

-Finally add mashed bananas and mix well. The dough should be wet and a little chunky here, and if some fucking joker tries to come by and stick their finger in and taste it, there’s a reason I kept saying use a wooden spoon, break their damn finger.

Flour pan(s) and pour in dough

- I like to split the dough up into two 8" loaf pans but I’ve also done it in a bundt pan or a cake pan, have fun with it. Just be aware that this recipe is for two 8" loaves and cook times will vary slightly depending on how you pan out the dough.

-Flour your pans, you don’t want these breads to stick and get ruined. Trust me, the wall of my first apartment learned this the hard way. If you don’t know how to flour a pan, you’re killing me smalls. Smear the whole pan with butter, then throw a small handful of flour in, shake and roll the pan until every inch of it is lightly coated with flour, dump out the excess flour. After that, call your mother and beg her forgiveness for being a complete fucking failure in the kitchen.

Pro tip: don’t use Pam or any other bullshit non-stick sprays. All they do is contaminate the taste of your bread and they don’t even help you get the loaf out of the pan, butter and flour ONLY!

-pour the dough into the pan, if using multiple pans take care to divide it evenly. You don’t want one bread to rise over the pan and fall while the other burns into a banana brick.

-DON’T SET IT AND FORGET IT! This isn’t fucking ronco. Stay near your bread(s) while they are baking, it should take about 45 minutes, if you want the kind of perfectly moist, cake-like banana bread I make, start checking with a toothpick around the 40 minute mark, the moment you pull that toothpick out and nothing wet is sticking to it, pull the bread out and rack it.

FROSTING TIME!!!

While the bread is cooling, make your icing. Unlike the rest of the process making the icing is totally freestyle, go nuts with it! Make your own flavor and consistency and see what else you can add to it.

 The following is how I typically make mine feel free to use it or evolve it. 

In two separate bowls 

 -cut half a stick of butter, let it sit out to come to room temperature 

 -Mash 1 super ripe banana with a fork, let sit 

-take butter, add a pinch of salt and vanilla to taste, mash with fork, should be soupy and chunky, kind of gross looking again, but trust me it’ll all be OK 

Combine banana with butter 

 - not much to do here, just put them in the same bowl and stir with wooden spoon.  Add confectioners sugar until you have desired consistency and taste 

- just like with the flour add a little bit at a time and stir in, this way you can test it and get the exact consistency and flavor that you want. If that joker motherfucker comes back and tries to 'taste' the icing you still got a wooden spoon, break his other damn finger.  Once you get your icing how you like it and your breads have had time to cool, put the icing on top and try to cover the entire loaf, top and all four sides, that way the icing will crystallize on the outside and essentially seal in the delicious banana bread, keeping it fresh and moist for days longer than it normally would.

[joeysworkbench]

Does Iowa even have Hockey rinks?

If heaven is the place dreams come true, then somebody bury me next to Krypto because I’m long gone.  Okay, maybe I’ve skipped a little too far ahead here, let’s hold off on the ultimate guy cry movie reference for a minute and go back to the beginning.  WAY BACK to the VERY BEGINNING.  

Growing up in Boston you only had two choices, being obsessed with sports or having absolutely no friends.  Being not particularly stupid, although certainly I am a little stupid, I chose the former. Somehow I still ended up with no friends but that’s another story for another time. My best friend and I (OK so I had like, A friend) spent every day emulating our favorite players, Griffey (the greatest), Jeter, Nomah, Bird, Jordan, Grandmama, Deion, Aikman, Favre, I could go on for days.  I played everything, baseball, basketball, football, dodgeball, frisbee, tennis, hell even golf (gross). But for me, I knew there was really only one sport, Hockey.  

The speed of it, the skill of it, the power, the grace, violence and control, all of it, all in one game, it was irresistible.  My family was a baseball family though, we played catch with Dad, Rolley up to bat on the farm, Tenniball in the street until the neighbors’ mom yelled at us to stop hitting balls off their roof, little league practice, we even made up our own games in the backyard using the pitchback. We didn’t watch hockey and no one we knew played it.  It just wasn’t really an option for us.  

Then one day my older brother came home with a hockey stick and a funny yellow ball. Some of his friends came over a little while later with a net and some more sticks and they started playing in the street.  I couldn’t get enough of it, but I still wasn’t ever going to get to play because being the youngest SUCKS. Seriously, they never let you do ANYTHING. Eventually, with the assistance of my sister’s expert negotiating skills (probably some form of yelling and/or crying until she got what she wanted, I don’t really remember) our Dad took us to MVP Sports to get street hockey sticks of our own. I still remember that stick, nothing special, just your typical Mylec street hockey stick with a turquoise rubberized blade that you could bend at will into any curve left or right, they say you always remember your first though (longing sigh). 

By this time my brother had bought his own net and goalie gear and we were playing outside our house every day.  We played street hockey every day we were able for years and years.  I got good, really good, I bought a new and better stick, and then another newer and even better stick.  There were ups and downs, I beat a high school hockey player one on one in three-bar best out of five, my brother got a chipped tooth because some idiot took a slapshot when he lifted his helmet to get a drink after play was dead, I broke my stick over someone’s leg and sent him to the hospital, because; well, did you read the first sentence where I said I was from Boston? We’re not a calm people.  

Hockey was life and life was really, really good.  I was also like 8 years old, so, you know, not that hard to enjoy life at that point. 

Time did it’s time thing and moved along, the “big kids” were too cool doing whatever they do and stopped playing hockey in the neighborhood.  Those of us that were left had trouble motivating others to keep the game going and it just kind of ended.  It was alright though, it wasn’t that long until I would be in high school and I was going to be a high school hockey player.  

The summer before freshman year came and I was ready to live the dream. Football in the fall, Hockey in the winter and Baseball in the spring.  I started going with my neighbor across the street to summer sessions for football. I was working out on the field, doing drills, getting screamed at, being called girl names for not doing things fast enough, you know, fun times. August comes and the coach stops me on the way out one day, “I need a signed permission slip from your parents this week or I can’t let you play anymore.” Oh. Shit. My Dad gets home that night and I bring the permission slip to him while he’s on the computer, sheepishly I say, “Dad I want to play football and hockey this year but I need a permission slip to do it.” He read it over, signed it and said what I had been dreading, “We have to have Mom sign it too” I walk up the stairs behind my Dad even whiter than normal.  Like ghost white.  In fact, I couldn’t see myself because of, you know, physiology and physics and stuff, but I’m pretty sure I was translucent with fear. 

“Joe wants to play football and I think we should let him,” my Dad said placing the once signed paper on the island and spinning the signature section towards my Mom. She was cooking dinner, typically a terrible time to interrupt my Mom for anything, the terror became palpable.  She didn’t say anything for what seemed like all the days I had lived for so far in my short life, and then, tears. My Mom was crying in front of me, I had no idea what was happening but I knew it was a bad sign.  “You’re going to break your neck!” she finally blurted out. I honestly don’t remember the details of what came after, all I remember is that I wasn’t able to play Hockey or Football in high school.  

I won’t bore you with the entirety of my high school story but if you must know I’ll give you the highlights.  I was an AP and honors student, wicked feckin’ smaht kid, I ran track, an awful chore of a sport, and played baseball, won a couple championships along with some chipped teeth. I became a completely irredeemable asshole teenager, lit myself on fire with a roman candle once, became a ‘Marine’ and shaped the fuck up real quick and at the end of it all I was rewarded with my dog dying two weeks before I graduated.  I cried my eyes out in the car, then got home from the Vet Hospital and put a hole in the wall, I think I handled it very maturely. 

Fast forward once again to the start of 2015, the year of my 30th birthday.  I typically don’t bother with anything big for my birthday, just camping or pub crawling with friends, I’ve had plenty of birthdays at this point and I make a concerted effort to be a modest, humble person, not always successfully. But for 30 I felt it was acceptable for me to make a big deal out of it, to give myself a present for once.  I thought long and hard about what to do, I had a lot of crazy ideas, at one point I almost booked a one-off professional wrestling match for the night of my 30th birthday, but wisely decided against that ridiculousness. Throughout that process though there was always one constant contender, barely a whisper, I was almost too afraid to commit myself to it. Towards the end of January I came to the realization that there was really ever only one choice.  For my 30th birthday I am going to play in my first ever Ice Hockey game.  The only problem is I have never skated a day in my life, but a trip to Big Bear with my LA family where I snowboarded for the first time and CRUSHED IT gave me the confidence I needed.  

 I started talking to my friend Heather at work about hockey, found out she used to play and asked her if she’d take me skating for my first time and make sure I don’t break my neck, you’re welcome Mom. We went to the rink one February night and it was easily the saddest sight ever. Slowly slip-sliding around the rink like a cardboard cut out man I luckily managed to only fall once that first time, but every 5 year old that blew past me scared the bejeesus out of me like a Mack truck blowing by you on I-70 in Kansas. We went a few more times over the next couple months and I wasn’t looking any prettier.  She suggested that I go to Play it Again Sports and buy some cheap used skates so I could put more time in. I was in one of those LA freelancer positions though where they wouldn’t give me an out date or a staff job so I was terrified of spending money.  

But one night, while walking Krypto, the first incident in a sequence of events that would almost make me believe in fate, befell me.  Sitting there, all alone, in the middle of the sidewalk, at 11:30 at night, not near any store, or bank, or house was a $100 bill.  I picked it up, checked around to see if there was any wallet or ID nearby, looked around to see if anyone had recently walked past, but there was nothing and no one (I realize I am dragging this out but I am trying to make the point that I’m a good dude and didn’t just take a hundred dollar bill without making any attempt to find the owner and return it).  The next day after work I went to Play It Again Sports to get a pair of used skates.  I had no idea what I was looking for, so I just walked around the whole store pretending I knew what I was doing because I’m a man and that’s what men do (at least that’s what the TV tells me). I found a shelf of new skates and wondered how much I wouldn’t be able to afford. Surprisingly they were marked off 50% from only $150, well within my newfound budget.  I decided to also see how much a new hockey stick would cost.  When I got to the register with my brand new stick and skates, they rang up, with tax to EXACTLY $100.  “You were born to be a hockey player.” (I’d be lying if I said the Herb Brooks speech wasn’t playing over and over in my head at this point)

Of course like all great stories after this major victory there was a bit of a valley. I was still rehabbing my injury from our charity football league the previous year and had lost a lot of confidence in my physical self.  I spent weeks just staring at those skates not doing anything with them.  ‘I should sign up for lessons, take a hockey class, buy the rest of the hockey gear and get into some pickup games’ I thought to myself, but still did nothing.  It was at that point that I remembered my friend Steve had asked me to join his workout group, I kept putting it off because I was injured, but I wasn’t really injured anymore, just out of shape and afraid of getting injured again.  I messaged him to ask when/where and then spent a good six weeks giving him more excuses.  I’ll be there next week, I’m not sure my leg is up to it yet, I slept in, I swear I’ll be there next time. He took every lame excuse in stride and continued to encourage me to join, whenever I was ready. (I love you dude, thanks for making me believe)

Finally, the second to last Wednesday of May I went to my first November Project workout.  ***527 and 627 am, Wednesdays, Hollywood Bowl #justshowup #wehavehugs and #freefitness #notacult*** It was awful, I hadn’t hurt that bad all over in so long.  I spent the next two weeks doing as little as physically possible and didn’t go back.  But then that third Tuesday I got the itch.  I wanted to work hard again, so I went to my second NP workout and it hurt equally as bad as the first time and for just as long.  But I started to go back again and again every week, I was having fun with it and making friends. At that point I met Rachel, 100%, beyond a shadow of a doubt the most frustratingly annoying pain in the @$$ I have ever met (I still love you anyways). She can somehow, in one sentence, mock me, then challenge me to do something, push me to do it harder and then smugly smile with a ‘aren’t you glad I made you do that?’ smile all while denying she did any of it and making me think it was all my idea.  It’s not, it’s never my idea, I like being lazy, but I still fall for it every time.  It’s maddening. 

On the road back to being in shape and armed with all the necessary accoutrements I began attending hockey class every Wednesday night. It was embarrassing.  Aside from myself, everyone in the class was just taking it as a refresher, as practice. I looked even more terrible than I feared I would by comparison.  I was hoping that all my years of street hockey would give me somewhat of a head start but I didn’t factor in that all the skill in the world doesn’t matter if you can’t stand up on skates without holding onto a wall.  I couldn’t even receive a pass standing still.  Five minutes into my first class I did the classic, cartoony ‘shuffle my feet super fast and then fly up into the air backwards’ move and crashed onto the ice. I was so pitifully bad that standing up from that fall I slipped and fell forward onto my face giving myself a bloody nose and a black eye (I left that class and went straight to the store to buy a full cage for my helmet and some ice packs for my face...and my pride). 

When I finished those classes I felt like I still had so far to go but I at least knew the way now.  I had a training plan, a bunch of drills to work on, and a list of skills I needed to get down to be able to play in a game.  So I went ahead and I booked the rink for my birthday and began letting people know that this was going to happen.  I honestly was afraid to tell my uncles and cousins for a few weeks though because I didn’t want to get laughed at.  They all played hockey growing up and still do, I didn’t want to invite them to play hockey with me and then look like a boob. It got so bad at one point I started calling and then hung up on my uncle four times because I was afraid he’d think I was a jackass and say no. I know, big tough hockey player, right?

But that was all months ago and I have been training hard.  I have found a rink that has stick time nearly 24 hours a day and go there two or three mornings a week before work.  My skating has improved tons although I will fall when I try to go all out, some of my old skills are now usable on the ice because I can stand up on my own two skates and between practicing, watching the Kings and playing NHL 15 I once again eat, sleep, breathe and live hockey. Oh and in case you were wondering from the sentence above I did end up calling my uncle that night and he only laughed at me a little and said yes.   

So now it’s here, this weekend my family is all coming to LA and we’re going to play the inaugural Nohelty Cup.  Hopefully the first of many.  So screw Iowa, heaven is right here in the good ole San Fernando Valley. See, told you I’d go back to the Field of Dreams reference. I mean this must be heaven because after 30 years of waiting, hoping, watching from the bench, being denied, rejected, held back, playing a sport I didn’t want to play, getting hurt, losing my drive, finding a new family in LA and reconnecting with my real one I have found the real me, alive and well.  I was born to be a hockey player and this Saturday I will finally be one.  

[joeysworkbench]

Superman can’t Return if he never left

Before I went to my first San Diego Comic Con last year I never cared about going to Comic Con but now unable to go this year because of another great opportunity I can’t help feeling heartsick. Now don’t get me wrong, it was 100% my choice not to go this year. I was offered a job I have been chasing since I moved to LA 4 years ago and absolutely had to say yes but last night sitting at a bar up the street reading and writing I kept seeing all the updates from THE CON and a feeling of loneliness, maybe more a feeling of discordance took hold. I knew deep down that I needed to be there and that something was off balance inside me. To say I felt a great disturbance in the force would be the understatement to end all understatements.

The thing is SDCC is so much more than a comic convention. This is in large part due to the city of San Diego, which is a perfectly cozy and intimate environment for a large gathering of any kind of people and the city’s accommodating nature, giving up the entire Gaslamp Quarter, marina and convention center to the event. For whatever reason this convention, above all others, has become Nerd Mecca; a place where the biggest and smallest fan groups alike journey to to pay tribute to their fictional idols together en masse. It has the feel of a church, a rock concert, the playoffs and a campout all in one.

But the biggest thing that is weighing on me is the p2p connections.  Although I have only been once, through talking to other attendees I can tell you that there is such a thing as “con friends”; people come from all over the world every year to attend SDCC so it’s not uncommon to fall in with people from far away for the week. It’s something every traveler can confirm, friendships don’t dull just because of time or distance, you can be as close with someone you see once a year as you are with people you see everyday, what matters is what connects you.  And therein lies the cause of my grief. I am a lifetime Star Wars and DC nerd, that’s dabbled in everything from Harry Potter to Magic the gathering, always existing just on the edge of cool and sociable.  At Comic Con I am amongst ‘my people,’ I am, something more.  And now my con friends are there, in from New York, Australia, London, Florida and although I am just a few hours away it’s enough to make seeing them this weekend impossible.

Of course, my flair for the dramatic aside, it’s not all that bad, I can see everything they’re doing on social media and can call or text with them, plus it’s not like this is the last SDCC ever right? RIGHT??? In the end this is a wonderful thing. I may miss out this year but now next year I will go with more excitement, more experience, a better position in life and a whole bunch of time to make up for when I see my friends again.  Get ready San Diego, 2016 is gonna be a SuperCon with the return of Superboy and his amazing Superdog, Krypto..

You heard it here first!

As always, may your god or other non-corporeal deity bless you and remember, the Force will be with you, always.

[joeysworkbench]

San Diego Comic-Con 2015 Preview

Well the big week is here and tomorrow night the festivities kick off with the SDCC Preview night.  If you were smart enough to buy the 4-day + Preview Badge make sure you make every minute count tomorrow night.  The crowds are only going to increase exponentially each day until Saturday when you’ll most likely just want to kill yourself if you are anywhere near the convention center.  (Make sure you read my list of veteran tips and tricks down below and do the convention right.  Make the most of your time there and avoid Saturday on the show floor)

Now if I could be serious for a minute, a rather fortunate turn of events, juxtaposed with the unfortunate one from last week's pre-preview, has seen fit to make it so that as originally expected I will not be attending Comic-Con this year.  But don’t worry, I’ll be here in good ole LA making bank and working, finally, as THE editor, rather than the Assistant.  So, really, it’s a victory for me, YAY ME!!!  Totally going to miss the mayhem though, so y’all better go big on my behalf.  (Pictures please and somebody get me one of those Limited Edition Krypto statues)

Back to business, I’m just going to go on record at this point and advise that if you don’t have any money to spend, have no room left for or are afraid of how much you might spend on art, comics, games, and other nerd paraphernalia, then just stay away from the convention center completely. Aside from cosplay day of course.  Pick one day to cosplay and spend that day in the lobbies of halls A through however many halls there are, that’s you’re best bet for meeting and making new, amazing friends.  

Now my absolute favorite part of Comic Con is always Nerd HQ.  They have a new venue this year and it looks to be bigger than ever.  Best of all, it’s free!  That’s right, it will cost you nothing to attend Nerd HQ and play the newest games, see amazing collectibles and best of all party!  The Nerd HQ opening night party on Thursday is a fucking blast.  They also have fantastic panels called Conversations for a Cause that are smaller, more intimate and more interactive than the big ones at the Con.  They cost $20 but 100% of the proceeds go to Operation Smile.  They also have pop up meet and greets with celebrities that will also raise money for the charity.  All in all, it’s fun, it’s free and the merchandise sold helps a great cause.  

                                                       Also that Zachary Levi is pretty dreamy

I don’t mean to shit on the convention itself but if you’ve been to a comic convention in the last decade it’s really not going to be anything special.  All the real merchandise, the comics and collectibles are tucked away in corners as though someone were ashamed of them and the floor is just covered with mass produced garbage, made only for the con floor.  If you want to have the best experience you can have down at SDCC you want to stay out in the Gaslamp Quarter.  

There are tons of great bars and restaurants that turn over into mini conventions of their own, all night Comic Con themed parties, or just stay open all night and serve amazing food.  The police close it all off so you can walk safely through with little fear of being run over, but keep your eyes open, President Obama-esque convoys come barreling down the streets to deliver celebrities to the convention center for their panels.  There are far too many events to list them all individually but you can find them all on the handy dandy site: Outside Comic-Con.  My favorites last year were the Nerdist Laser tag and the Geek & Sundry Game bar. 

One last little hint before I go turn my nerd off for the next 120 hours or so to spare myself the pain, keep your eyes and ears open.  There’s new stuff every year, hidden stuff everywhere and amazing people who you can spend the week with and have incredible adventures in nerd mecca together.  Also make sure to walk over the bridge and check out the area down by the water and the marina.  Last year they had the Gotham City Zipline amongst other things, like a virtual reality version of Gran Turismo where you actually sit and play in a real car!  

As per the youge, may your god or other non-corporeal deity bless you and remember, the force will be with you, always.  

And in case any of you douchebros read this and forgot

*************ORIGINAL POST FROM 6/30/2015****************

NERD OR GTFO!!!

So it’s been a year since my first trip to San Diego Comic-Con, and through a surprising, possibly unfortunate depending on point of view, but ultimately awesome turn of events I’m heading back this year for my second Comic-Con and I couldn’t be more excited!  A lot has happened in the past year, my dog and I completed enough training to earn him the American Kennel Club’s Canine Good Citizenship, we are mere weeks away from becoming a Therapy Dog Team, I had a debilitating injury that left me couch ridden for six months, but did all the painful rehab, and started playing football again, taught myself to ice skate so I could pick up ice hockey, joined November Project and knocked out yet another, most likely Emmy winning, series for CNN.  Of course there were other things, but I don’t want to brag, ya know?

  Last year after my first trip to SDCC I wrote this:  

Comic-con Thoughts:

First off regardless of any other criticisms here just know that Comic Con is an amazing week long party in one of the best cities you'll ever find.

I was surprised and somewhat disappointed however to find it wasn't the unreserved, social, nerd-mecca I had heard/believed it was.

The convention itself feels a little tainted, there is more junk merchandise than you could ever throw in the trash and hollywood has totally taken over the show floor. Paid booth girls and vendors who clearly have no real attachment greatly outweigh the actual passionate artists and fans who you're there to mingle with.

(Side note: Getting caught in a flash flood of people when the Avengers surprisingly show up at the Marvel booth is not fun).

Inside the convention center at least.

And as with any big parties there are always the douche bros but luckily not enough to ruin your fun. In fact in a whole week in San Diego I only had to deal personally with one. That's gotta be a record.

There also was a divide,in my point of view, between the costumed and plain clothed. No one was rude to us but the cosplayers all seemed to have a slight unapproachable air about them. At least insofar as beyond taking a picture they didn't seem to want to make friends, they were there for attention. Which is sad, not dressing up does not mean you are not a passionate and dedicated fan and having people appreciate cool costumes is what people dress up for right? The ones in costume however seemed to talk to each other and make friends fine. And the cosplayers out of costume were cool and friendly and we hung out with many of them. No animosity, just a strange observation. Basically, if you go to SDCC, dress up at least one day. Trust me, it will make your week a lot friendlier and more engaging.

I had a blast overall though and can't wait to come back next year. It is definitely the kind of thing you need to come back to with experience and wisdom to do right.

Some tips for a future first year attendee from a first year graduate:

-Get the 4-day preview badge and walk the floor wed night. The whole floor. Anything you want more time with do Thurs morning

-There are tons of other events all over the city that are just as awesome as anything at the Con. Research them as best as you can ahead of time and make sure to book and RSVP the ones that require it

-Plan as much as you can but be willing to change plans. Awesome surprise events pop up out of nowhere almost hourly. Get twitter and follow everyone and everything that's going to be in the area.

-Get a room at the Omni or Marriot near the convention center. Split the room with a bunch of people and don't be above sleeping on the floor. You won't sleep much anyways and you'd much rather have your home base right in the middle of the action.

-Saturday is going to suck. It just is. Everyone and their Mom and her Bunco club are there. Don't plan anything important for it just use it as a day to hang out with the cool people you've met earlier in the week and seek out the hidden gems together

-Saturday night has the best parties make sure you and your friends decide which one you want to go to and make sure you don't get locked out. I did Slam Con and it was a blast

-If you can't handle waiting in lines don't go

-If something isn't an event or announcement you've been waiting your whole life for it's probably not worth waiting 2 hours in line for but there's tons of other things you can find to do instead. They will be incredible.

BUT MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL:

-Don't judge. You're at a comic convention, get over yourself. You are a huge nerd too, just have fun and as always DON'T BE A DICK!

See you next year San Diego!!!

Well now it’s my turn to be a veteran and make the absolute best of “The Con!”  So next week, July 9-12 I’ll be down in San Diego doing what nerds do best, no not complaining although that is a close second, I’ll be geeking out hardcore over action figures, comics, autograph signings, movie previews, gaming tournaments and seeing most likely 85 different versions of Boba Fett walking around with a smattering of Khaleesi’s and at least one chubby Darth Vader.  

Check back next week for part II:  The San Diego Comic Con 2015 Preview!

[joeysworkbench]

The Franklin Curse

Holy shit!  Everything's coming up this guy!  Walking the dog tonight I found a $100 bill just lying there, no one around, nothing else with it, and it was on the sidewalk between a CVS and a SuperCuts.  It could be anybody's really, like anybody, a crook, a drug dealer, a white-collar asshole, it was probably someone shitty whoever it was.  Yeah, that sounds good.  No guilt there.  I wonder what I should do with it.  I'm pretty responsible with my own money and I give enough time and money to good causes so I should spoil myself with this.  A couple new games?  Nah, too kiddie.  Maybe tickets to hockey?  Too fleeting.  I want something I can get a lot out of.  New season of football's coming up, maybe I could find some new kicks and matching gloves?

 Went to the store today and found the perfect match, Nike Air Max high top cleats and Under Armour receiver's gloves, both in our team colors.  They were on seasonal clearance too so the hundred was enough for both!  I'm gonna be the star of the show, the cock of the walk, belle of the ball...OK too weird, I tend to get excited by loud, obnoxious clothing; especially when wearing it is COMPLETELY justifiable.  We do play for charity after all.  

 First game in my new gear and all I did was look like a fucking ass-clown!  3 missed balls, 2 that turned into picks, both of which resulted in TDs and I didn't stop a single receiver all game.  At least it was a scrimmage so it doesn't count against us but I begged and worked for my spot back after missing two seasons from injury.  This is not going to make anyone eager to give up time to me.  Fuck this day, fuck this game. 

 My life could NOT be going fucking worse! Ilsa turns out to be just another fucking "LA girl", (this city even corrupts the survivors of Communist Russia???) AND she gave me the "it's not you it's me, I just can't be in a relationship blah, blah," BS rhetoric. Why does this happen every fucking time? All these chicks are out of their fucking minds! Meanwhile Facebook shows me she's been banging some other dude for at least a few weeks.  God damn, what fucking cruel devil created that POS "social nightmare"?  Of course it’s me, if it wasn’t why would you FUCKING DUMP ME? God dammit! What the fuck do I have to do?

 Well, this is all just going fucking swimmingly. I caused another loss today for my team while simultaneously putting our best girl out, for like, fucking ever!  On a goddamn girl play, A GIRL PLAY, I ran off the line to try and trick the defense into chasing me and I straight up leveled her. Then my dumb fucking foot with its fancy new cleats stepped on her ankle and shattered it in 3 places. I must be cursed.  I have to be!  There is no other explanation for a life as shitty as mine. 

 I can’t figure it out. There’s no way in the natural order of things that this much horrible shit could happen to one person, at one time over and over and over. Ever since I picked up that fucking $100 bill it’s been nothing but a shit storm sandwich for me every day. Vic keeps “assuring” me there’s no such thing as curses and that I just have to "stick with it" and things will start getting better. Right, because completely losing the ability to football, being a natural born pesticide to women and ruining my teammate’s life all happened just because I wasn’t namaste enough or some shit. Hippy, evangelist bullshit, I’m selling these fucking cleats and gloves and then I’m putting that $100 bill back where it came from.

 Fan-Fucking-tastic!  Now my dog ran away. I was saying goodbye to my friend at the front door and the dog snuck out the gate and then chased my friend on his bike down the street. My friend was too far away for me to call him back and he didn’t notice Max following and now my dog is gone. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha LOL! ZOMFG ROTFL WTF FML ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So I'm not cursed, eh?  There's no such thing?  WELL FUCKING EXPLAIN TO ME HOW ELSE MY LIFE IS BEING FUCKING EXPLODED TO SHIT SO VIOLENTLY FAST?!?  At this rate I’m going to wake up tomorrow with some incurable, mystery cancer and turn to dust inside of a month.

 So after looking for the dog futilely I took the merch back to the store I got it from and sold it back.  I didn’t get a hundred bucks for it, but what do you expect when your cursed?  I took the money to the bank and then took out a fresh, crisp $100 dollar bill.  If you’re gonna lift a curse you gotta do it right, right?  Fuck me, it’s probably too late anyways.  Maybe I should just take this Benjamin into the bar across the street and drink myself silly.  At least then it won’t hurt so much when the cruel hand of fate swoops down and does whatever horrible thing it’s planning for me.  Oh well, here goes nothing, take your $100 back cruel world, I am no longer yours to do with as you will!  I hope someone is seeing all my fist shaking or I’m going to have a hell of a cramp for no good reason. 

Seriously fuck everyone. Fuck, EVERYONE! I come into work today and start knocking out the server reports and new hires and all the usual shit I always do, BY MYSELF, everyday, and the head of the department just walks in and fires me. Like that. As if I hadn’t been kicking ass there for 2 years improving EVERYTHING he had failed to perfect in his 10 years with the company. He even had the fucking balls to claim that I fucked up securely sending the Quarterly report to corporate when HE told me to use Yousendit. It was in writing, from him, the day before! But NOOOOOOO, there’s no such thing as a curse! It’s all hocus pocus, baby!

 Max, you fucking little rat, I love you. After three days he just fucking waltzes up the front steps like he knew what he was doing the whole time. Well good on ya boy, you’re back just in time to go live on the streets together. Let’s go take a walk and find a good spot to sleep for when we go broke, before the other hobos claim them all. 

[joeysworkbench]

Episode IV: A New Philosophy

I know, I know, I know...it’s just a story, and he’s just a fictional character and there are real world problems all around, but I can’t get over the character assassination of one, General Han Solo.  So now he’s a sleazy, cowardly adulterer?  Fuck these people, this is 100,000 times worse than anything from the prequels or special editions.  I can’t even be excited for Episode VII anymore because I’m filled with dread that they’re going to play this off in that movie...

I think this is the perfect time to share with you my new philosophy and to employ it myself.  This is not something that I just picked up out of some bogus book or quasi-cult help group but something I’ve been working on for a few years, although I’ve been unable to completely pin it down.  It all started my last summer before LA in 2011, I didn’t have a job anymore and was still a few weeks from moving out so I mostly just stayed outside until it got too hot and then I went and watched a movie.  The problem was that I didn’t enjoy any movie I was watching.  They were too artsy, or too cheesy, or too empty, or too loud, or too ridiculous, too fake, too dumb, too pretentious, too expositional etc., etc.  Then I went and saw Fast Five and had an epiphany, “It’s perfectly OK to watch and enjoy a movie just for being good at one thing”  The only thing that matters is that you enjoyed yourself.  My desire to make this philosophy more present in my life was confirmed one sequel later while watching Vin Baby smash his car into a jersey barrier launching himself through the windshield over a bridge, catching Michelle Rodriguez in the air and landing on the other side of the bridge and smashing through a windshield, without a scratch.  Was that scene ridiculous?  Fake?  Over the top? Dumb? Cheesy?  Yes, absolutely it was and I loved every absurd second of it.  Never doubted it for a second, of course he could do that, he’s Vin Diesel.  

It all started with movies but when I got my dog and started seeing how happy he could be just walking down the street, or seeing another dog, getting to walk on grass (oh my god grass, what is this magical plane I am walking on???) I started to realize that I could be a lot happier just by choosing to be.  I decided I had to make the change for myself, I had to start doing the things I wanted to do, when I wanted to do them, whether by myself, with someone else or whether or not anyone was with me, watching me or caring what I was doing.  I was looking for a philosophy to get behind to keep me honest but it wasn’t easy. 

I liked a lot of what Wil Wheaton was saying all over the internet:

but it was more moment to moment advice and not quite an actionable philosophy.  

Two weeks ago when I finally felt strong enough on my recently rehabbed leg to join my friend for his workout group/run club November Project I found something that I think is the winner.  My friend has been killing it there and is now one of the workout coaches.  At the start of my first day there he asked us to be Pleasantly Present.  It was a philosophy he had adopted from someone that had helped him to achieve what, in my opinion, is the most genuinely positive, welcoming attitude I’ve ever encountered.  In fact he’s one of only three people I trust to take care of the Superdog when I’m not around, so if you’re following logic here, he’s basically a superhero. 

What is Pleasantly Present?  It’s the act of “putting away your thoughts, worries and stresses for a certain amount of time and giving your all to an activity and making sure you leave everything on the floor.  Being completely in the moment without consideration of the external circumstances.”  I was never quite able to put it into words that well, but that is word for word what I was looking for, don’t worry about what other people are doing or thinking or what you need to do later just focus all your energies on the thing you’re doing and be happy to be doing it!

I think this is something that everyone could use, especially in this town.  For such a diverse place LA has a lot of exclusion and cliques.  If everyone spent their energies being Pleasantly Present we’d all get along just fine.  But that’s a whole other problem to tackle at another time. 

Back to Han Solo and his wife?  I don’t care anymore or more accurately I’m making an effort not to, it will be whatever it will be.  As of this moment, I’m just happy that Star Wars is back, there’s new toys, books, comics, video games and collectibles everyday and it’s only going to get better.  (I do however reserve the right to temporarily go back on all this come December 18 if they mention this BS in The Force Awakens and piss and moan like a petulant child until the new year)

Here comes moral/lesson-time, I’ll sum it all up for you so there’s no mistaking my point.  Don’t be a Dick, because it’s OK for people to like different things, be Pleasantly Present and just enjoy the hell out of everything you do and don’t worry about anything outside of that.  

Of course, as always, may your god or other non-corporeal deity bless you and remember, the force will be with you, always. 

[joeysworkbench]

Unsolved Charity Case

It’s a crisp, spring day in the Pacific Northwest, at a General Store along a state highway, one that looks like it was there before there were state highways, but now stands as the gateway to a small former logging town turned Silicon Valley yuppie getaway.  The lot is full, it’s payday for the working folk and many are there to cash checks, buy groceries or to get their fill of scratchers and Keno.  An elderly man parks his immaculately maintained classic Buick out front and heads into the market. 

He walks very well for a man his age, he’s tall, slender with a well-kept white mustache and piercing dark eyes behind brass framed bifocals.  Moving swiftly along the back wall he passes by some young boys in front of the tourism brochures, he smiles as they marvel at the D.B. Cooper museum pamphlet.  As he walks towards the pharmacy he stops to take in the commotion unfolding at the check-cashing counter. 

“I can’t take on the liability of another one of these checks Ms. Moretti!” says the cashier, “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I just don’t have the authority or the latitude to cash you out.”  

Angela Moretti, a Mother in her 30s with her youngest in tow, her hair a mess and bags under her eyes, her occupation as a housekeeper undermines her attractiveness.  Her 3-year-old son repeatedly tries to pull away from her grip to get to the toys as she pleads with the cashier, “Please just call the Gundersons, they can tell you that the money is there!”

“I don’t know what else to tell you, I’m sorry, I have your last two checks right here and they both bounced.  There’s nothing I can do for you.  Try the bank.”

“The bank won’t cash a check without an account and I can’t open one without money!” she is nearly screaming, but takes a moment to collect herself,  “I know the last two bounced but I’ve got a new client and this one is good.” 

The unruly crowd interjects, “Hey come on can’t we move this along we all got checks to cash!”

“Take it easy, Tom, you’ll get your money when you get your turn.” once again to Angela, “Ms. Moretti I am really very sorry, but you have to let the next person in line come up.  I’m sorry, good luck to you.” 

Angela barely holds herself together long enough to pick up her things and take her son down the next aisle away from the toys.  She kneels down to hold him in her arms as she loses the fight to hold back the tears.  The rest of the General Store goes about their business, paying no mind to Mother and child. 

“Excuse me miss, I couldn’t help but overhear your troubles up there”

Angela looks up to see the old man standing over her, a look of fatherly affection and understanding on his face.  She has never seen this man before, but somehow knows in that moment that he is there to help. 

“Is there no where else you can take your check to get it cashed?”

“No, sir, this is a small town and there’s only the one bank and this store that can cash a check. 

“Do you have a husband or family who can help you?  Maybe one of them could take the check and cash it for you?”

Angela stands up and wipes the tears from her cheeks.  “I live alone with my two sons, I got screwed by some yuppie assholes who made me clean their houses for summer rentals and then left me with dud checks.  We live week to week and if they won’t cash this check my boys are going to go hungry.” 

The old man takes her hand in his left and pats it with the right.  His voice is gentle and knowing, like a grandfather to his family “If you’ll follow me I believe I can help you, dear” he helps her to pick up her bags as she takes her son’s hand, “No children are going to starve on my watch”

He walks her out to the parking lot making conversation with her and lifting her spirits.  “I saw you had your eyes on that dinosaur in there”, he says warmly to her son, “a strapping young lad like yourself is going to need a bigger one, don’t you think?” He even gets a few giggles.  As they get to his car he asks her to wait with her son on the sidewalk.  “I’ll be right back, young lady, I believe I can cash that check for you.”  He opens the door and sits down in the driver’s seat.  Reaching into the console he fumbles around for a minute and then pulls out a plain white envelope.  Carefully putting back what he moved around he grabs the outside of the sedan and lifts himself back up to his feet.  Closing the door he walks back to the sidewalk tapping the envelope against his open palm. 

“If you’d be so kind as to give me that check ma’am, I can cash it for you right here.”

“Oh no, sir, I couldn’t ask you to do that, it wouldn’t be right!  How would you get your money back???” she asks incredulously.  “I would love nothing more than to have a guardian angel drop out of the sky and hand me the money I need but how can I be sure this is real, and without strings?”

“Oh no, no strings at all, I’ve no use for much money at my age anyways and I’m sure they wouldn’t give an old man like me any trouble cashing that check.  You and your sons need it, think nothing of it, just remember to pay it forward when you can.”

Angela once again is moved to tears, only this time they are tears of joy.  She holds the envelope to her heart and hugs the old man.  “Oh my god, thank you, so much!“

“It’s not a trouble dear.  You take care of those little ones, now.”

Angela kneels down to tell her son that everything is going to be all right.  As the man walks back towards his car she stands up suddenly, “Wait, Sir, I never got your name!”

“No one ever did”, the elderly man chuckles, “But you can call me Cooper!  Everyone else does.“

He touches the brim of his cap, opens the door and gets into his old Buick, Angela opens the envelope to find a thick stack of $20 bills, still crisp and new, yet clearly printed many years ago.  She looks up to see his Buick driving back towards the pines and he was never seen again.  

[joeysworkbench]

If Nerds Have Risen...

Then why isn’t Magic the Gathering cooler?  I started playing the game when I was 8 years old and it kick-started my imagination with wizards and dragons and vampires and knights and all the things that every kid fantasized about before Bang Bang Call of Honor: Battlefield:  Look How Modern My Rifle is This Year became the go to for all prepubescent defilers of my Mother.  It taught me strategy and foresight through deck-building, and innovation and improvisation when the cards just didn’t come out the way I had hoped they would.  It also taught me how to throw a really good nerd-rage, hissy fit.  Even good ole Uncle Istvan was there!

                                                      Look at that handsome Devil!

Do you not want to have battles with magical powers?  Are you uninterested in commanding armies of Dragons?  Then stop telling me Game of Thrones is the best show ever because you are a fucking liar.  Game of Thrones is like a game of Magic gone awry, where everyone is playing with 100 card Counterspell decks, nothing good ever happens and every 12 games or so someone gets raped.  MTG on the other hand is amazing, you could be a Warlord of Fire, a Dark Sorcerer, a Water Wizard, an Angel of War or even a Forest Shaman.  Oh, what, is that not good enough for you?  How about being a Pyrokinetic Necromancer who commands Dragons?  That’s what I was.  

                                                                         My Babies

Or maybe you want to be a mix between Poseiden and Gabriel?  Not a problem, MTG has you covered.  Seriously, name anything you want to be, I’ll show you how you can live it.  

Even the art was next level stuff.  I grew up on comics and superheroes, my Dad had all the 50s and 60s, Batman, Superman and Justice League comics in the attic, but the things I was seeing on my Magic cards blew all that away.  This one was my favorite because it looked like the Predator crossed with Swamp Thing and was essentially invincible. 

YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT YOU DON’T WANT TO BE IN CHARGE OF SWAMP PREDATOR AND STILL CLAIM TO BE A MAN!  LOOK AT THAT THING!  LOOK, DAMNIT!!! There’s plenty of other beautiful pieces of art in this game too.  Go Google Magic the Gathering Art and say goodbye to your afternoon and evening. 

Why doesn’t everybody grow up playing it?  If you say you love Wizards in Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings, If you tout the glory of video games like Skyrim or Zelda, if you like Game of Thrones, Dragons, Star Wars, basically anything that’s popular right now but say you don’t like Magic, or you refuse to play it, you are a fucking liar and a hypocrite.  They’re all exactly the same thing, but Magic is done through the medium of a trading card game.  It is in almost every way imaginable an amalgamation of all the things kids like, have liked and will ever like, yet it’s looked down upon like some sort of freak show.  Hell half the people I grew up playing it with refuse to acknowledge it or admit to ever playing it.  

I am not afraid to admit that I love this game because unless you are like Brock Lesnar or Jon Jones, I’m 95% certain I could beat you within an inch of your life and you couldn’t stop me.  I also love Star Wars and Lord of the Rings, Ninja Turtles and I regularly play Castle Panic and Munchkin.  I. AM. NERD!  HEAR ME COMPLAIN!!!

In all seriousness, the game is fun, but like many of the tabletop games I’ve started playing in the last few years it has an unfair stigma of being “too nerdy” and over-complicated.  If you can watch Game of Thrones, love Lord of the Rings, be a fan of Harry Potter, then you can play this game.  You’ll probably love it too.  Just do yourself and the world a favor, get the fuck over yourself, come down here in “the mud and the blood” with the rest of us and get your nerd on.  As always, may your god or other non-corporeal deity bless you, and remember that the force will be with you, always.  

                                      Magic Mike not included, see Scrye guide for details

[joeysworkbench]

I Don’t Believe in Guilty Pleasures

There’s no easy way to say this, I love Kid Rock.  Growing up in my little quiet corner of Massachusetts by the beach I could listen to that white trash, suburban, jungle junk music all day long and not be ashamed of it for one minute.  It was incredible, rock, metal, rap, pure-festering-garbage, whatever it was didn’t matter because it was the hardest, craziest, I have no idea what anything he’s talking about is auditory insanity I’d ever come across.  It all started in like 6th or 7th grade when playing Tony Hawk and House of the Dead all night (like I said this was suburbia), while sneaking Root Beers and snack cakes was considered downright criminal (again white kids in Suburbia, we had no idea what real life was like). 

                                  Basically me as a kid

Every Friday night was spent grinding out million point combos and suffering like G did, all while some cartoonish white dude told us about how bawitdaba went bang to bang while diggy said the boogy said up jump the boogy.  Huh?  Hey, for a 12-year old, it works.  I must have listened to Devil Without a Cause 5 times a night every week for at least year.  Of course that was before I became a full-blown teenager and immediately reversed all my opinions and hated everything ever because reasons and like, you just don’t get it, man, cause like, you know? 

So the other night I was walking my dog and one of those songs came on and I totally rocked out to it.  I don’t even remember what song it was but trust that this happens often.  When I hear Kid Rock’s “All Summer Long” I’m like, “Oh my god that’s totally what I used to do in high school!”, “Born Free” plays and I’m like “Fuck yeah I was, ‘MURICA!”, or when “Cowboy” comes on it’s like “Hey, that’s totally what I did with MY LIFE, minus the West Coast pussy, the Detroit Playas and the boat with that banner and stuff, but the rest of that shit I totally did!  Really, guys, I’m serious, I did that stuff.  Guys?”  Actually, I do kinda know a Detroit playa in my buddy D and we go to Six Flags together every summer.  That dude is hella baller, you know? (I have no idea what is going on right now, I seriously don’t ever talk like this)

The next day at work, after having the idea to make this admission via my blog some people at work started talking about Kid Rock and I felt like I wasn’t special anymore...

                        This man haunts my dreams reminding me

But I cannot let something as silly as Sergeant Glitter Finger up there force me to swallow the truth anymore.  Kid Rock is the finest musical artist of our generation and I will not be afraid to adm...oh geez even I’m not troll-enough to finish that sentence.  Look, Kid Rock is fucking awful, we all know it, he hops back and forth between being the next demographic thing and trying to pretend that he’s not white and his life isn’t REALLY fucking easy, but I love it.  The “music” is braggadocios at best and incredibly offensive to anyone that’s not white and racist at worst.  But god damn some of those songs just hit me right where my vanilla, suburban center lies, buried deep down inside.  

The real point I want to make is, please, do not ever call something a “guilty pleasure”  There’s no such thing.  You either like something or you don’t, have the balls to admit it.  Most of Kid Rock’s stuff is crap, but everyone once in a while I have to stop, and agree, “MY NAME IS KIIIIIIIIIIIDDDDDDDDDD...”

[joeysworkbench]

Video Game Sense Memory: Episode III: Robocop is my Jam

The other night I was watching Lethal Weapon 3 because I had just gone through an entire debate about whether Die Hard or Lethal Weapon was a superior series, which then led to a debate about which Lethal Weapon is the best; which led to me realizing I can’t remember a single thing that happened in Lethal Weapon 3 but somehow I still know that I don’t like it. 

Like I really don’t like it. 

So like I was saying I was struggling through the only Lethal Weapon movie that’s not, like, totally awesome, ya know, and I had a feeling like I had never actually seen this movie before; even though I still knew for sure that I didn’t like any of it (Not trying to be a dick but that movie is just not exciting at all) when I finally got to something that I remembered!  The scene at the housing project where everything is on fire and people are getting shot left and right and Mel Gibson and Rene Russo are trying desperately to constantly out-karate each other on bad guys faces and I was like, “Oh my god I’ve seen this movie before!” 

In that moment though something way better came back to me.  Yes, I had in fact seen this movie before, but when I saw it the first time I was busy with something WAAAAAYYYYY more important.  I was playing this:

If you’ve never played this game you need to hop in your DeLorean right now and go back in time and spend your entire childhood on it.  Or you could be completely uncool and just get an emulator online but you don’t want to be that guy do you?  DO YOU???  

When I was a kid I frequently had to go do the shopping at Stop & Shop with my Mom.  I was the youngest and my mom only worked part time as the school crossing guard until I was in school full time, so during the day I was dragged along on all the errands she needed to do.  But our Stop & Shop was not your ordinary Stop & Shop, they had a video store INSIDE the supermarket and that store had video games.  So naturally every time we went to the grocery store I asked my mom to rent me a game.  I of course always asked for the same game because there is no game better than Robocop on the NES.  EVER.  Go ahead.  Try to find one.  I’ll wait...

OK.  Now let’s move on. 

I don’t know why she never just bought it for me because I must have begged her to rent it 87,348,578,375,385,184 times and she must have said yes at least 10% of those times and even if you suck at math you can tell that’s not economically sound.  I rented that game so much in fact that my Mom would genuinely plead with me to pick another game and let some other poor child have a chance to play Robocop.  I’m sure she was just tired of me wasting my young life doing the same thing everyday but to my little kid brain it was like NO IT WILL BE MINE AND ONLY MINE!!!!  *Children are evil and I was no exception.  

Thinking about playing Robocop while watching Lethal Weapon 3 is such a comforting memory because of the setup we had in my house.  We always had whatever the best TV of the time was for the “big TV” in the family room and then to the left of it on a little bookcase was my Dad’s old 18 inch Sylvania CRT.  The thing was all metal and glass, probably weighed 100 pounds and when you twisted the knob to turn it on or change the channel (it was the same knob) it made a loud *THUNK* sound and if you accidentally went past Ch. 3 you had to go all the way back around and your wrist was in pain by the time you got back to it.  I played everything from Tecmo Baseball on NES all the way up to Goldeneye on N64 on that TV before I finally got my own TV in my room and upgraded. 

But most importantly that TV was right next to the main TV so there was always someone, usually everyone watching something on TV while me and my brother played video games.  It was a great family gathering place.  As much as TV and video games get accused of splitting people apart and being anti-social, for my family it was something that gave us a reason to all do something together.  Whether it was watching Star Trek: The Next Generation every Saturday night, what my family called “Pizza with Picard” or my brother and I fighting over whether to fight each other in Street Fighter or Super Wresltemania while my parents tried to watch boring “adult” shows next to us, we were always together there.  Hell I remember falling in love with my first celebrity crush there too.  I was playing N64 while my sister watched Buffy on the TV every Tuesday, or maybe Wednesday and I always hated it until one day there was a girl named Faith and all of a sudden N64 was nothing more than an excuse to not miss a moment of that show while still maintaining my tough guy act and hating that “dumb girly show”. 

If you happen to be reading this right now I just want to say that I’m definitely not weird or anything but I am still totally in love with you so that option is totally on the table ;)

Personal issues aside, this all brings us back to playing Robocop while watching Lethal Weapon 3.  That night was our family movie night, where my Dad would take the coupon, remember coupons?, that he had clipped from the Sunday paper the week before and get two movies, one for the family and one for him to watch with Pizza (Star Trek eventually ended you know).  So naturally I had to go with him and take a chance at renting Robocop again!!!  And I did!  Score!!!

But seriously, fucking Robocop, go play it right now.  I’m about to. 

Good night, good luck, may your god or other non-corporeal deity bless you and remember, the Force will be with you, always. 

[joeysworkbench]

Stop Being a Drone, Dude

The other night, while making my world famous frosted banana bread, I was struck by an idea that I humbly believe could and should be applied to anything and everything in life.  

That idea is simple, do not ever just dogmatically do something the way it has always been done or the way someone says it should be done just because that is the way people do it. If you can find a better or quicker or easier or more efficient or more productive OR MORE FUN way of doing it, so long as the end result is the DESIRED result, than you're doing it the right way.  Because that is how we get better. That is how we make a safer, healthier, happier world for everybody, by constantly challenging, questioning and changing the way things are done. That's just fucking science and if somebody doesn't like it they can go straight to whatever fucking hell they want to believe in. 

                                        This is what mine looks like

Now you may be wondering, “what the hell were you doing with your banana bread that you thought was world changing?” Well, my banana bread, although it IS world FAMOUS might not quite be world CHANGING in and of itself.  Although maybe this time it is?  I don't know, nobody's eaten it yet but me.  But I've always made the frosting exactly the way the recipe said, which among other things called for vinegar, which seems ridiculous to put in frosting because frosting is supposed to be sweet and vinegar is very bitter.  I also never quite got the consistency that I wanted out of it so there were definitely more than a few things to change. Instead of the vinegar this time I used vanilla and instead of butter I used an extra mashed banana. Now all that doesn't really matter so much to my point, especially since you'll probably never get to taste it, (and believe me that is totally your loss because my shit is delicious) but my mind is funny and that process is what made me think of writing this piece. See I could have just mindlessly made the frosting like I always did and it still would have been good, but now, because I questioned myself and my own recipe I made a better one that is mind-blowingly delicious. 

I'm not going to do the work for you here, you can apply this to whatever is going on in your life personally or in your community, city, country, whatever. The point is never just do what you're told, at least not without questioning why you're doing it, whether the way you're doing it is the best way and in some cases if it really needs to be done.  Unless of course it comes from me.  If I tell you to do something you better fucking do it right away god dammit because you know I have a good reason for ordering your ass around!  

Fight the power!  Become the power!  Use your power for GOOD!

[joeysworkbench]

Live Long and Prosper

Every year at Christmas we set up our tree and our decorations and our lights, plug them in in place of the lamp in the living room, and put a little Star Trek ornament onto the Balsam rope on the half wall. It is a miniature replica of the Shuttlecraft Galileo from the original USS Enterprise (that’s NCC–1701 if you’re nerdy). That little Shuttlecraft carries with it a message and every time you flip the switch to turn the lights on his voice rings out: Shuttlecraft to Enterprise, Shuttlecraft to Enterprise, Spock here, Happy Holidays, live long and prosper.

Although I never knew Leonard Nimoy I knew Mr. Spock very well. Watching Star Trek as a kid with my Dad every Saturday night I learned to love science and exploration. I gained an appreciation for things that are unique and different but most of all a need to find the most logical solutions to all of life’s problems, big and small alike. Spock, like my favorite character Superman, was another shining example of how great humans really can be, even if he was only half human. (hell that’s half more than Superman was, I suppose)

I hope that neither he nor his family, were they to come across this, would take this as an insult, but when I saw the announcement of his death I didn’t see the loss of Leonard Nimoy I saw the loss of Mr. Spock, a shining light of inspiration that I’m not ready to see put out. Some might find it silly to weep over the loss of a fictional character but not since my Grampy died have I felt this measure of heartbreak. Spock was one of the characters from my childhood I've tried to model myself the most after. Forever cool and logical in the most insane of situations; for someone thought to be without emotion he displayed a grace and compassion I can only dream of having someday.

Thank you Mr. Nimoy for giving us this shining example of humanity’s potential. I will cherish that ornament more now than ever before and for as long as I am able I will keep it lit and do my small part to make sure that your voice may ring out for generations to come.

He understood better than anyone that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. We need his wisdom now more than ever. Live long and prosper, Mr. Spock. You are and forever shall be, our friend.

[joeysworkbench]

Time doesn't fix shit...it's discipline that makes the change

I've been wanting to do this for a while now but I've been too scared it would cause it all to come crumbling down.  He's come so far and means so much to all of us now, I don't want to unravel it.  But they were the ones that brought him here, they deserve to have their part in his life too...

A couple of Sundays ago I was out doing errands after Agility class.  Krypto was still with me in the car and I was picking up various things I needed from stores all over Hollywood and The Valley.  After our last stop to pick up some properly sized clothes from Target I got a bold idea that this was finally the right time.  The right time to bring Krypto back to the Burbank Animal Shelter so they could see how well he was doing.  I was very worried that he might recognize it as soon as we pulled in the parking lot and start freaking out, thinking I was going to leave him there.  I sat parked at the edge of the giant Empire Center lot second guessing myself.  Is it really necessary?  Is it even worth it?  Will the same people still be there?  Will they actually remember him?  Will they even care?

My boldness and I guess my goodness? (not sure I have any of that) won out and I put the truck into gear and pulled out and across the street into the BAS lot.  Pulled in and parked with no reaction.  'That's a good sign', I thought to myself aloud.  It looked as though they were closed or at the least closing as I got him out of the car.  He seemed completely unaffected at this point.  'Let's hope he keeps cool when he gets inside', I said aloud, again, talking to myself like a complete crazy person. 

                                Sometimes I'm honestly not sure

When we got inside we got really lucky.  Not only were the people who adopted him to me still working there but they were all up at the front desk talking.  The Animal Control officer who interviewed me and introduced us was right there up front and recognized us the moment we walked in.  Before I had a chance to say who we were she said, "You're the guy who lived in an apartment and I warned you about how much attention and space they need."  She was dead on.  I have for a long time thought about going back to the shelter to show Krypto off and how good he's been with a "Fuck You" attitude of how not only is he doing fine in an apartment but straight up kicking ass and taking names.  In that moment though I didn't have any of that adversarial feeling.  I was so proud of my pup and so happy they remembered him I was glad.  Just glad, that's it, totally at peace and happy. 

We were both happy to know that he was doing great and that she knew it.�� We stayed for a few minutes to let everyone say 'Hi'.  The only person we didn't see was the volunteer who backed me up when the officer questioned my commitment to taking care of such an energetic dog.  When I was looking for the answer to show that I was up to the challenge she came by and asked a few simple questions that I answered honestly and she said if I said yes to those questions then I would have no problem, and I haven't. 

***Side Note***   The officers and the volunteers at the shelter are the real fuckin' deal, if you aren't up to it, you aren't getting a dog from them.  And if you want to get a dog, you want to get it from them, because they will remember you and they have your backs.  Click on the name above and check out their website. 

So all the hard work has paid off and Krypto is totally rehabilitated!  His anxiety and fears seem completely gone and make no mistake we have worked our asses off.  Classes all day every Saturday and Sunday, 630 every morning up and at the park training and working out together, 8-10 miles of walks every day and even a cross country road trip to kill his fear of the dreaded car ride (seriously what kind of dog doesn't like car rides?  My dog HAS to be from another planet)

                                At least he can fly and looks good in a cape

All this is not just to brag, although seriously we are fucking awesome, but hopefully it inspires.  Stop waiting for things to change and start changing them.  My dog has inspired me, and over the last year and a half my life has improved ten fold.  Hopefully you can do the same.  It's cheesy but it's true, if you want change, be the change. 

[joeysworkbench]

Being good doesn't mean being a doormat

So the last couple of days I've been having conversations with people on various topics that have all led me to the same conclusion.  There is an epidemic of illogicality (may or may not be a word, just go with it) attacking humanity and making people think that being a good person means tolerating EVERYTHING and fighting against NOTHING.  This idea could not be further from the truth, good people need to fight, tooth, claw and whatever other sharp dangerous objects you may have against "evil" 

                                    Some items to consider

It first came up in a conversation with my sister about what is an acceptable way to express attraction between two strangers, you know for example if a man walks by a cute girl on the street out jogging or dressed up.  The obvious answer, if you've been living under a rock for hundreds of years, is not to stare like a creep and make douchey comments to a stranger.  But we should all know this already.  The point I wanted to get across in this situation is how I feel the message of feminism and other similar philosophies could be more efficiently targeted. 

As a proud, non-douche, who has never had a problem standing up for friends regardless of ethnicity, gender, sexual preference or otherwise I often find myself alienated by many feminists that take an attack route that demands ALL MEN stop being "chauvinist pigs".  I don't deny those guys exist, nor that women face them almost every second of the day but I don't believe these creeps represent the majority of men.  The bigger problem is the men who agree with feminism but are afraid to speak out against sexist guys for whatever foolish and cowardly reasons they may have.  The men that are misogynistic are never going to change, they are a lost cause and the message is not for them. 

I think the famous quote that "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing" is the philosophy that needs to be pushed.  You can't change sexists, bigots or racists.  They are not operating out of any logical premise, the only thing that can be done is to shame them and intimidate them into slinking back into the holes they crawled out of the same way they would try to intimidate a woman from seeing herself as our equal.  Taking the "fight" to the "enemy" does not make you evil. 

Hell, even at the Aziz Ansari performance I saw a few weeks ago he brought this up.  He asked the audience to raise their hands in response to a number of questions involving sexual harassment and gender equality.  The gist of his demonstration was that men hardly face any of this whereas pretty much every woman does, every day.  But also every man in the audience raised their hand in agreement that this was bullshit.  He ended his "bit" by saying, and I'm paraphrasing here so don't go starting shit with the guy, "Forget all the crap about real men do this and real men do that, a real man would stand up and tell these people that you can't do this to our mothers, sisters, daughters, wives, girlfriends, cousins, etc." 

This idea goes WAY BEYOND feminism though, it's about good people standing up for each other everywhere, every time.  I saw an incredibly infuriating situation in the portrayal of characters in one of my favorite shows this week and it was something I've seen countless times before. The main character was in a compromised position with his nemesis standing over him, weapon in hand.  One of the supporting characters showed up with a gun and demanded the adversary drop his, they jawed back and forth and the "bad guy" gave the typical "you won't pull the trigger you're too good" schpiel and of course the good guy didn't. 

For the love of christ people why would you not shoot someone who was about to shoot your friend or family?!?  What in the blue hell is wrong with you???  Refusing to use violence even when someone threatens you with violence is not righteous, or pure or altruistic.  It's weak, pathetic and cowardly and frankly it lets the "bad guys" win.  We need to stop spreading and stop believing this nincompoopian ideology.  It does not make you evil to kill someone who is going to kill you, and in case you weren't up on medical science, shooting someone doesn't equal death, all you have to do is stop them from hurting someone, not necessarily murder them in pre-retaliation.  It's called survival and the human race wouldn't be here today without it.  Violence in any form is not a good thing but uncompromising pacifism is the dumbest shit ever. 

Anyone who thinks they are holy and just by stupidly taking/letting someone they love take a bullet because they don't want to be violent is an assclown.  To be perfectly clear I'm not advocating violence here; I'm condemning apathy and inaction.  Good, decent, loving people are the majority, the silent-sheepish majority, but the majority.  Let's start fucking acting like it.  It's time we prove Master Yoda to be right, the dark side is the quick and easy path.  They are weak, we are strong, and they can't bully us anymore unless we let them. 

[joeysworkbench]

Hoidays ain't like they used to be...part 2

So it's official.  After an incredibly disappointing visit to Knott's Berry Farm's Halloween Haunt, a complete lack of genuine scares and a couple uneventful "parties" I'm well beyond Halloween.  Let's just say it's very disappointing, and leave it at that.  As I said in part 1 I'm all about the scares and experiences and this year they've been completely nonexistent. Time of death, 11:37 PM, Thursday October 23, 2014.

Last night my mind wandered all the way to Christmas and the hunt for the perfect gifts for my family.  Now I believe in holidays like I believe in superheroes, they can always come back, but for the time being a new champion must take the place of All Hallows Eve.  Thank sweet baby Jesus for Christmas, the best birthday encore a man could ask for. 

I know, I know, Christmas CAN'T start this early, it's getting ri-god-damn-diculous.  I agree, Christmas shouldn't even start warming up before November 30 (for personal reasons), and is not allowed (by law) to hit full steam before December 13 (because trust me).  Do the math, it makes sense. That said, mentally I'm already there. 

Honestly, I love that I still get excited about Christmas like a little kid.  My Mom and Dad were talking about it a couple weeks ago and yesterday it started to hit me.  I told them, per usual, I'd stop buying from my Amazon wish list after October to surrender it to them and I'd rather be surprised by whatever they want to get me. I love getting gifts as an adult and having absolutely no idea what they could be.  Let's face it, I'm too old and financially independent to deserve presents anymore, but I'm happy to have anything for free these days. 

(By the way, if you don't keep an amazon wish list you really should.  Just keep it updated all year long because their price tracker widget will let you know the best time to buy the new gadgets, toys, games, clothes etc., that you want)

I have however turned the corner though where I much prefer to give gifts than to receive them.  My favorite thing is when I go off someone's list and get them something totally unexpected and it ends up being their favorite gift.  Even if I get something from their list, when they are truly happy to get it, it feels so much better than getting any gift I wanted.  One past Christmas, my sister and I tag teamed for the best off-list gift ever when we got our parents a package of Yoga classes along with mats and blocks and all the "equipment" needed to do it.  They still love doing it to this day and they are happier and healthier overall. 

I'll stop here because truly it is too early but I AM so tired of Halloween.  In fact just this morning I purchased Christmas Stockings for my dog and I, a pre-lit Christmas Tree, and ornaments and other decor for our first LA Christmas.  So as far as I'm concerned pack it in, forget your sexy/slutty take on Dora the Explorer or your clever "write the name of the costume I was too lazy to make on a white T-shirt" and start being fucking nice to each other.  'Cause you know who is making a list mothafuckas and shit is about to go DOWN!!!

[joeysworkbench]

...when ___________ used to be good.

Last week I wrote about getting older and how it's really not that big of a deal.  And I stick by that, all of seven days later.  Seriously, my conviction is legendary.  But there is one thing related to the passage of time that does suck and that is when something you love doesn't last. 

I first started thinking about this subject before I even wrote that growing old piece.  I went to the kitchen at work one day for a snack and someone was making cinnamon raisin toast.  I said to her, that smells like I'm home for the holidays and all of a sudden my mind was bombarded with all the "traditional" things that I never have anymore.  The first thing I thought about were those little colored mint candies that are kind of like nonpareils but not at all. 

                                            YEAH THOSE ONES!!!

I remember they used to always be in the drawer of the hutch come December but I had no idea where they came from.  They would show up around the same time as those disgusting chocolates that you have to have the map if you want to find the one good one.  Didn't they come from the same place that made the weird crusty cheeses?  Hickory Farms?,  I think. 

                                      Yep, those bastards right there

Of course my spider web mind went crazy from there, neuron's firing and un-archiving all the amazing treats, joints, shops and bakeries that my family obsessively returned to at the same times, with the same intentions every year.

After those Hickory Farms Mints I started thinking about the places that we used to go to only on vacation; like Jack's Bakery, the greatest house of Danish in all of the U.S. of A!  Every year we went to Long Beach Island, N.J. and rented a cottage for a couple weeks.  Those two Sunday mornings in late July my Dad would get up early and go to Jack's to get a dozen assorted pastries.  Whoever got up first got to go with him and pick the flavors.  It was incredible, I was never a heavy sleeper so I was usually lurking behind my bedroom door waiting for my Dad to get up and take the chance to get nothing but lemon danish. 

One summer though as we made the annual drive down the boulevard to our house at the end of the island, looking out for all of our favorite places, Jack's was no more.  Or more accurately it had become Fritz's Bakery "Home of the Famous German Sticky Bun".  Famous my ass the place isn't even a year old, where the hell is Jack's?!?  Fortunately it was mostly a change in name only, the danish were still there.  But after that name change the bakery only lasted a few more years and now if you go there you won't find a trace.

On the way to LBI (that's what the cool kids call it) my Dad would get a few sandwiches from a place in Saugus, MA called Alvinord's  (Alvin's if you're nasty).  These sandwiches were massive.  One sandwich came on a giant round loaf that was about 6, maybe 8, inches in diameter and the bread alone was probably three inches tall.  With all the meat and veggies stuffed in, the damn things were so big that one quarter of a sandwich was enough to fill your stomach.  It was like that Elf bread from Lord of the Rings only delicious. 

Yep you guessed it.  One summer, we went on vacation and those sandwiches were no more.  I had to eat a Subway sandwich at a rest area in the middle of nowhere, White Plains, NY.  A SUBWAY SANDWICH AND THEY TOOK ME TO WHITE PLAINS!!!  You'll forgive me if I'm still not over this. 

As an adult though, or well an almost adult, that is what I call my early post college years self, I discovered something that trumped all of those other eats.  Ray's Pizza, THE RAY'S PIZZA at 6th and 11th in New York City.  It was so delicious, I could just sit there and eat Garlic Knots all day while I repeatedly order pizza over and over and over and be totally satisfied with my life's choices.  I would go to NYC every long weekend, I told my friends it was for them but really it was for Ray's.  After moving to LA I came back the first New Years to THE City and it was gone.  Boarded up, taped over like some kind of filthy crime scene.  I was lost, I walked around the city all night, went to three of the other 57 Ray's Pizzas in NYC (seriously look it up, only Rays are allowed to make pizza there) but it wasn't the same.  Another one of my spots taken from me. 

I'll stop there and spare you from the endless list of food-torn emotional wounds I suffer from and leave it at these real big ones.  I guess what I'm trying to say here is that although growing old is no big deal as long as you keep doing the things you enjoy, you should make it a big deal to fervently support all the places you get joy from AND DON'T LET THEM TAKE YOUR FOOD!  Of course some things are so big they destroy themselves but all those little special places will stick around so long as they are getting your business.  Or so capitalism tells me.