Gone Rambling...

Who determined that four hours is the danger threshold for an erection? And if you had one last that long, are you really going to make your first call be to your doctor?

While we're talking about erectile dysfunction, I'm currently teaching my two-year-old niece the "Viva Viagra!" jingle. I know this is just setting me up for Brian to give me some big time payback once my own seeds are sown (as they say), but I don't care. It's worth it. "Viva! Viva! Viagraaaaaaaa!"

The four movies I've cried at: "Braveheart," "Big Fish," "Passion of the Christ" and "The Incredible Journey."

One move I did not laugh at (or finish): "Melinda and Melinda"

Will Ferrel's only re-watchable movie is Anchorman. And even though I know every line, I still watch.

Milk was a good choice. The last bottle I bought was an old-school, glass one. I had to pay an extra dollar deposit to help encourage me to return it. But I think I'm going to keep it and drink G&Ts out of it in the summertime. How awesome would that be?

Went to Walmart tonight to get a few things for the apartment... They sell a camouflaged crock pot. So the next time you think the meat you're eating has a gamey flavor, now you know why.

I can never remember how you're supposed to spell the color gray/grey in American.

Anyone else notice that packets of Eclipse Gum are no longer perforated? The 12-pack tinfoil tray used to tear in the middle, giving you two, pocket-sized packets of gum. Now, if I buy Eclipse, I have to use scissors to snip the package into two six-packs. Unacceptable.

How do indy rock bands stay so skinny? If they're on the road touring all the time, they must go house on fast-food constantly. I thought the heroin era was over.

While we're on the subject of grown men pouring themselves into girls' jeans, Kings of Leon is now in my top 10 favorite bands. Maybe top five. I'll let you know after I go see them tomorrow.

I got those tickets for free. I won tickets to two different concerts this week via radio call-in. I've never won anything before.

I never realized how much I missed having a real kitchen until I got one back again. I am now using pots and pans that haven't been touched in six months.

This summer, I spent two months in China. And I will still eat at Panda Express.

Scotch makes me fart in my sleep. I'm serious. I went to a wedding last month, drank scotch at the reception (Johnny Black) and woke up the next morning with a green haze enveloping the entire room. The room which, by the way, I was sharing with the groom's cousin. Sorry, Jesse. I hope your singed nose hairs have recovered.

I'm planning a wedding of my own. Did you know that it costs $300 an hour for someone to stand in a tux with their thumb on the wheel of an iPod? Me and the Missus are getting screwed - and it's not the good kind.

To anyone with a Nextel. Just stop. For the love of all that's good, learn how to text. And turn your phone to vibrate.

Did you know it's cheaper to own a trailer than it is to rent an apartment? By 30%? Then again, you'd actually have to live in the trailer. I have heard possum is delicious.

I have two closets in my bedroom. They are both full AND I just donated four trash bags of clothes to Planet Aid and Goodwill. Not manly.

Santa came to my local mall on November 6th this year. The turkeys weren't even dead yet.

I love Ikea. It's the only place in the world where you have to assemble your own cardboard box. I bought two.

Movin' on Up (and Out)

"To every thing, there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plan, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down and time to build up..." - Chronicles 3:1-3

And a time to move...

I've been found out, discovered and now, evicted. For those of you that read this previous post on my living situation, you'll know that I'm basically squatting. I rent a one-bedroom apartment that's zoned as a commercial property. The place has a shower and a kitchen area, a bedroom and a living room. It's a pretty sweet deal and I pay way below market rate.

But there are drawbacks. For one, I don't have an oven, so I've been cooking on a pair of practically useless, plug-in, electric burners and in a small toaster oven for 8 months now. Do you have any idea how hard it is to saw a frozen pizza in half? I've sliced my thumbs more than one time and that is NOT cool.

The other main drawback is that I have to pretend like I don't live here. Shades are drawn at sundown, I sneak out to pick up my paper and my landlord doesn't like me parking right in front of my door (I have to park on the other side of the lot, where the "real" residents park). It's a bit annoying. But, hey, it's cheap!

As annoying as it is to have to move, I'm ready. There's been enough sneaking around and enough crappy meals cooked because I don't have the right things to work with.

So, if anyone's free next Sunday, want to lift some boxes? Ha...

Mike's culinary adventures...

I like to cook and I like to eat. I'm not a gourmand, by any stretch of the imagination, but I enjoy good food, nice preparation and am always willing to try new cuisines or dishes. I wouldn't call myself a chef, but I do know how to throw together a nice dinner party or prepare a table for two.

It seems lately, however, that my culinary endeavors have been limited. Some of it, no doubt, is just because I haven't taken the time of late to cook. Food prices, too, have made buying fresh produce and meats a more costly experience and with every bill I pay, I have to say goodbye to that thick, juicy steak and hello to some chicken nuggets.

But the biggest factor is probably my kitchen itself. Or should I say "kitchen," because it's only masquerading as a place to prepare food. My bachelor pad has a sink and a full set of cabinets, but that's it - there's no oven and no stove. So, for the last four months, I've been cooking with an electric burner, plug-in wok and a small toaster oven.

At first, it was a huge pain. I had to plan all my meals, when shopping, on their annoyance level to prepare. Things had to fit inside the oven (about 12"x6"x4"), for one - that eliminated any roasting or broiling, pretty much. Also, they had to be pretty quick-cooking... the electric burners are about as powerful as my car's cigarette lighter.

After a few weeks of trial and error, I've come up with a miniature cookbook for bachelors stuck in a similar situation (or anyone who lives in a dorm room). It's kind of amazing, but 7 years after I moved out of the dorms, I've come back to the EasyMac days.

-Pasta ain't easy-
If you're like me, you think breaking spaghetti to fit into a pot is akin to spitting on your mom. The point of spaghetti is to have long strands of pasta to twirl with a fork and spoon or be able to slurp up 12 inch strands of fresh, wheaty goodness. In keeping with that life philosophy, I have a stainless, two-gallon pot to make spaghetti in (it's also great for washing your feet, but that's another story...).

But with the awesome power of my 10-watt hotplate, it takes a full hour to bring a gallon of water to a boil. This means that, if I want to have spaghetti for dinner, I need to start cooking it at lunchtime, in the hopes that I'll actually be in the mood for pasta when the times comes.

Spaghetti is out. In, though, are some nice, handmade egg noodles that I can drop clusters of into a smaller pot of boiling water. I also am a big fan of Annie's pasta, too. That still takes longer to cook than normal, but at least I get more instant gratification.

--Pizza better not be frozen--
Some nights, I'm lazy. All I want to do is heat up a pizza and enjoy it with a beer and sit and watch the Sox or the C's. It's pretty simple.

But, being the thrifty bachelor that I am, I don't want to order an entire pizza - it's way too much food for just me and it's about twice as expensive as a nice, frozen pie. I'd much rather turn to DiGiorno or Red Baron.

Here's the rub - neither one of those fits into my teeny toaster oven. They come frozen, so you can't cut them in half without defrosting. This defeats any sort of non-planned pizza popping, which is the whole purpose of it, as far as I'm concerned.

I tried buying smaller frozen pies (the store-brand kind... it was the only ones I could find). However, they were A) too small and B) tasted like poo.

Luckily, I stumbled onto a solution. You can buy Boboli (or Boboli-like alternatives) pre-made doughs, cut them into half-moon shapes, slop on some sauce, add a medley of cheeses and whatever fresh ingredients I want. Bingo - now I have slices that are better than any frozen 'za out there.

--Grilled Cheese--
I used to grill sandwiches in my cast-iron skillet, back when I had a real gas stove. Those days are over and my skillet sits mostly unused in my cupboard, since it takes almost as long to heat as water does to boil. I could still make grilled cheese with a standard, Target-issued pan that's as thin as a couple sheets of tinfoil, but even that takes longer than I want... Grilled cheese just shouldn't take more time to make than it does to visit a fast-food drive-thru.

So, I happened on this alternative - make the sandwich and pop it into the toaster oven. In less than two minutes, you have ooey-gooey cheese and toasted sides, with no flipping. I was impressed when I tried it the first time and haven't gone back since... I suppose it's common-sense to know that you can put something into the oven and it'll get heated and toasted, but, uh... that thought never did dawn on me.

Okay, I'm done rambling... totally bored with this post. But I figured I should get something up here, since it's been a while...

Peace out. I'm hungry.

Dirty socks and three bags full...

As you know from previous posts, my living situation is a unique one. I live in a one-bedroom apartment that, for zoning purposes, is not actually a one-bedroom apartment, but a two-room office space completely with shower, kitchen and cable hookups.

I'm probably not supposed to live here, but live here I do (with the full knowledge and approval of my landlord, who has been nothing but gracious from Day 1). I live a pretty simple, quiet life - most of my day is spent indoors working or going on business meetings, so my neighbors never really hear or see me. Occasionally, I'll see someone the hallway, we'll do the cursory nod bit and pass without a word exchanged. The only thing that might get anyone curious is that my car is in the parking lot, 7 days a week. But after three months, no one's asked me what I'm doing here. The jig is not yet up!

While the place is a steal rent-wise, it does come with the drawback that I need to keep up the ruse that this is a place of business and not also a home. You can read the previous post (here's the link, again) to see some of the things I do on a daily basis. But what I didn't mention and has become a pressing issue is simply laundry.

I need to do laundry.

I'm out of socks. My last hand-towel is so over-used that it's constantly damp. I'm low on underwear and have been forced to (*gasp*) wear pairs that aren't color coordinated to my outfit. I'm wearing shirts that I hate because all the ones I like are stuffed into two giant, overflowing bags. And I probably should change my sheets, too.

The thing is, I don't have laundry in my building, so the simple solution of "just doing it," doesn't work. I would just load it into my car and drive around the block to my local coin-op, but if I did that during the day, someone would put two and two together and realize that, "Hey, that guy has leopard print boxers hanging out of that bag... he must LIVE HERE!"

So, in the past, I've done laundry by sneaking it out to my car before I go to bed - usually around midnight. However, the problem with that has been that I either forget to do it before I fall into bed or I'm just too lazy to make the walk out to my car. It's hard to get motivated when you can't keep your eyes open from staring at the computer too long. And, have I mentioned I'm lazy?

Good news, though... I did find out there is one remaining washboard factory here in the U.S. They make, by hand, the old-fashioned, metal-and-wood, elbow-grease models. I've got a bucket, if I get a board, I won't have to go to the laundry center. Maybe I could even string up a clothesline and dry my clothes secretly at night?

That wouldn't be creepy and get me arrested, right?

My living situation...

So, I've talked here about moving out of Boston, but haven't yet mentioned much about my new digs on New Hampshire's Seacoast.

First, for clarification, my home state does have a sliver of seacoast. The 30 miles NH claims as its own is the smallest amount of any state that touches ocean. But, hey, that's plenty of room for us to fit in fat, wrinkled old sun-worshippers in bikinis and speedos and to fumigate the refreshing, salt smell of the sea with fryer after fryer of fried dough on the ever-classy white trash mecca that is Hampton Beach.

I've spent just over a month here and I'm liking it just fine so far. This is my first time living alone. I thought it might be weird at first, but there was practically zero adjustment time. From Day 1, I've been walking around in my underwear, talking to myself, keeping the heat turned down to the point I can see my breath and not changing the TV from ESPN like I've been doing it all my life. It's pretty awesome.

I have a one-bedroom apartment. After four years of city-living, it seems like I've moved into a palace or become an investment banker. It's huge. I'm bad with numbers, but my living room is approximately the size of an Olympic swimming pool. My bedroom is big enough so that my voice echoes. My bathroom is comfortable (just a stand-up shower in there). I even have enough closet space to fit all of my clothes (which is saying something, because when I move it looks like a Broadway production just hit the road for a 35-city tour). It's a pretty swinging bachelor pad.

The only drawback is that I'm not actually supposed to be living here. The place is zoned as commercial office space. The rest of the building is occupied by a bunch of 9-5 businesses. That means my kitchen is somewhat lacking. I have a full set of cabinets, some counter space a sink and a 3/4-sized fridge but that's it. There's no oven and no stove.

So, I'm now cooking on either a dual-burner hot plate (which sucks) or a plug-in wok (which sucks less). I also have full use of my tiny toaster oven, which actually cooks really well, but is about the size of a shoebox. No more roaster chickens for Mike. Actually, I've been able to make do, since I'm generally cooking for one (and, while I could eat a whole chicken, I am watching my hourglass figure).

The main drawback is that it takes forever to do anything on the dual-burners. I can get away with cooking bacon or pancakes in the wok, but I do need the burners to do other things. Namely, boil water. It took me an hour to boil a water for a pot of spaghetti. That's just not going to cut it. I'll have to figure out a better way to do that... can you microwave pasta?

The other quirk of living here is that my neighbors don't know that I'm living here. They think I'm "Mike, a freelance writer and marketing consultant," which is half true. I am a freelance writer. But I had to throw in the "consultant" thing because it makes it sound like I actually make money and can afford an "office." Plus, I've found if you tell people you're a consultant, they don't ask any questions. Since no one knows what a consultant is or what they actually do.

But my landlord is pretty anal about people not finding out that I live here. He's put down a series of ground rules that I have to abide by (which, by the way, I'm happy to do, since I got a great steal of a deal). They are:

1) move in at night, on a weekend (so no one will see you)
2) keep blinds open during the day (so it looks like you work there)
3) close blinds at night (so no one will see you)
4) do not have parties (so no one will see your friends)
5) park your car at the far end of the lot (there are people that live in the buildings on that side. I'm supposed to blend in)
6) tell everyone you work there
7) keep silent at all times (so no one will hear you)

It feels a little weird to be sneaking around my OWN HOUSE, but the rent is a steal and I really don't want to have to move again. So, I abide by them as much as possible. Instead of parking my car in front of my door, I park 100 feet away, on the other side of the lot. I sneak down every morning at 7:20 a.m. to grab my newspaper, timing the snatch between the residents leaving for work and the early birds showing up to the office. I move my bags of laundry to my car in the dead of night, so no one will see me. I keep the TV turned down. And, when the cleaning people come to vacuum the hallway, I turn off all my lights, switch of any music and sit in the silent darkness, waiting for them to leave.

It's a little weird, but, hey, it's home...

I haven't quite finished unpacking. My prints and decorative items are still in boxes. Once I have those in place, I'll try to post some pictures.

Last note: NH is so rural that my address doesn't actually appear on Google maps. Good times.

An open letter to the futon industry...

Dear furniture maker,

I'm a cost-conscious consumer looking to furnish his apartment with a new couch.

Now, being a young professional who doesn't have a ton of money, probably will move again in the next 18 months or so, doesn't have an unlimited amount of space and enjoys hosting out-of-state-guests, I do have some specifications as to what I'm looking for.

I need something cheap, but well-made (since I can't afford to go buy something to replace a broken couch in six months). It needs to be portable, or as close to it as possible. You see, I live on the second floor and have a habit of living in places that aren't on the ground floor, which makes moving heavy objects a pain in the butt, back, knees and, strangely, my 4th vertebrae. My living room is big, but the stairwell is not, so a ten-foot couch is out of the question as is anything over-stuffed or La-Z. Last, I do enjoy passing out on my furniture, clutching empty stemware or a tumbler and/or hosting guests, so I want something to sleep on.

After much extensive research (I napped on a lot of the products at your store, even going as far as to live on one particularly inviting chaise lounger for three days), I've decided that what I need is a futon.

My question for you, Mr. or Ms. Furniture Maker is as follows: Why are futons as expensive as a traditional sofa? Shouldn't the do-it-yourself installation, lesser quality of cushions and overall impression of poverty and/or cheap bastardness that they convey lower the price? I simply do not see any reason why I should purchase a futon when it costs $500, especially when I can have someone deliver me a real piece of furniture for the same amount.

I really want a futon. I genuinely do. I need something that folds flat, but as my last experience in lifting a full-size sofa resulted in a month of traction and nine more of intense physical therapy, those are out of the question.

But I don't want to pay more than $300, which unfortunately leaves me in the position of having to find something used on Craigslist (which probably is infested with lice and has a variety of colorful stains) or putting together something that comes in a box, looks like a Boy Scout-made pine fence and has a mattress the same thickness as my down comforter and is about as comfortable as a medieval torture device.

C'mon, Manufacturer person! Give us starving artist and young professionals and students and cheapskates a break here. Don't push your futon prices out of our reach. Fold them in half.

It won't be hard. In fact, it will be a soft and cushy process, especially for you who already must be comfortable in your over-sized, leather office chair. Cut costs in manufacturing... I don't care how, as long as I have a nice, micro-fiber cushion to prop my feet upon. Ship out production to Thailand, the kids in the factories there work for pennies and their tiny fingers make sure the stitching is hardly noticeable. Or, perhaps you could provide us with the solution for the burgeoning illegal immigrant crisis. Hire all those former day-laborers and put them into the futon manufacturing business. Heck, you can keep the "Made in the USA" sticker for the box and pay them in mattresses.

If this sounds cold, then it's because I don't turn the thermostat past 55 to save money. If this truth is too hard for you, it's because I typed this on my floor. If you're not comfortable with my solutions, then it's because I'm not comfortable in a futon-less living room.

Free the futon and lower prices! Just because oil's over $100 a barrel now doesn't mean futons have to be $100 a foot. Just do it... it's for the greater good of bottoms everywhere.

Sincerely,

Mike the Couchless