Did I mention that his sidekick was a talking pie?
I've got pie on my mind. As of two weeks ago I made it my immediate goal to bake a pie from scratch. I didn't know why and I didn't know how, but as God as my witness there eventually would be a baked pie in my house. Two reasons why come to mind: 1. I've never actually done that before and 2. I think that with the coming of the fall season, I've been put in the pie mood. So my research commenced. It concluded with this result: There are many, many pies. Fruit, custard, ice cream, poon tang...the list can go on and on. So I needed to decide what pie would enter my baking reticle. I decided upon an old fashioned deep dish apple, and a low carb strawberry rhubarb for Mama Gelo. One problem: RHUBARB. Much to my chagrin, rhubarb is a spring vegetable so finding it fresh is next to impossible. My only hope is in the frozen foods. You know, you would think that rhubarb could have evolved with the rest of the planted genre, easily sought out all year round, and not be stuck in the 15th century, only being available in a season.

So, you probably asking, "Why bake a pie Tom? Isn't there a technicality called a job? The one you don't have. Shouldn't you be spending time looking for one"? So I'll respond, go to hell. Anyway, I have an interview tomorrow morning, so it's not like I haven't been sending my resume out, cause I have. While a job would be nice, a pie would be tastier for the immediate moment. Plus, if my "Piedventure" as I'm calling it from now on, goes well, it will open up a whole new world of pie for me. So don't be surprised if I show up at YOUR door with a pie of your choosing. Oh, and don't think I've forgotten about my "Christmas Gingerbread Orgy." You'll still get your share of cookies come this holiday season, so start putting your orders in. Now listen to the creepy little doll and eat your pie. She actually looks like one of the girls from The Shining. REDRUM!

QUICK NOTE: The song These Dreams by Heart just came on and it makes me think of Junior year. Specifically going to bed with the blinds slightly open so the light from the lamp posts from outside could make a silhouette on the walls of my room. Weird.

iPugs?
I've have come to realize, through my working and commuting into New York, that there are two things that an unusual amount of New Yorkers have. One is the iPod. Two is the pug..the dog. Why is this? For starters, I think the whole iPod thing has gotten way out of hand. Originally it was something cool, and only a few people had them. Those people were the bringers of hipness and creativity. But now everyone has one. From the twelve year old rich kid, to the fifty year old wrinkly runner, the iPod has become the exact opposite of what it was developed for. It's now a status symbol and not a "fight the machine" device. I mean, they sell them with BMW's now! And you know that everyone who has one wants you to see that they have it. Even if the device is put away, they will always be wearing the white headphones. For goodness sake people, the whole point of MP3's is freedom and expression, not "look at the money I spent." As a natural extension of the MP3 revolution, the iPod was destined to become a physical embodiment of this freedom with the exception of iTunes. The whole iTunes thing, while useful and legal, ends up being a rip off anyway. If I paid a buck for every song I've downloaded, then I'd be $2800 in the hole. My musical journey should never have to cost that much. Now with the lowering in price, having an iPod seems to be the next cell phone. Just think about this: if these things were really meant for everyone, then you wouldn't see the silhouettes of hip young dancers, but of stuffy rich yuppies, tritely walking on their way to work in those commercials.

As for the pugs; well this one is a little more difficult. I would argue that the pug has become the new "it" dog of modern times. Like the golden retriever of the 80's. I could only assume it's partially due to Men in Black because of the talking pug "Frank." I would also guess due to its popularity, the pug is now more featured in commercials, thus making it more visually recognizable. Whatever the case, I see at least five a day in Manhattan. And I will admit that I have wanted one myself. They possess a bug-eyed ugliness that gives them a certain personality.

So you're probably wondering if I have seen an iPod owner walking his/her pug? Well I have. Is this where New York is going? Are we all destined to walk soullessly through the city, listening to our hip music, trailing behind a stubby little dog? Why don't we just stop kidding ourselves and give the dog a damn iPod too? I'm sure in a matter of time the pugs will begin to get jealous, revolt against their owners, thieve their iPods and start a new economic society based on music somewhere. Now there's a sight. Society driven pugs on their way to work listening to iPods. Kind of ridiculous, don't you think?

(SAFE) Drivers Wanted
IMPORTANT NEWS!
No, there is really nothing of substance as usual, but silly reader, blog's aren't for substance...or are they?

Coming into work this morning, I saw something quite humorous. New York buses are known for their kamikazee style driving. For instance after they stop, and let off the appropriate passengers, the usually put their signal on, and regardless of who may be coming or not, proceed to enter the road again. I think something that massive has all right and privilege to own the road. I mean the driver has enough to worry about driving and stopping, it shouldn't be his/her job to check every waking angle around that bus. A result of this is a good filtration of stupid drivers. So this morning the bus is in it's lane and begins to sneak into the right lane for an upcoming stop. A small dark blue Jetta attempts to remain in the lane next to the bus, rather than slowing down and letting it through. The lane gets very narrow and the Jetta is now required to keep as much distance with the bus as possible. Keep in mind that there are also parked cars on that side of the road. Ahh, now you know where this is going. The little blue Jetta, in it's attempt to squeeze, rubs up quite nicely against a parked car. But there is a twist: the parked car happened to be the exact same little blue Jetta. OH SWEET IRONY! It's times like these that I just sit back and laugh at the misfortune of others. However, this leads me to wonder: if they trade paint, is it even noticeable?

It's a known fact that I enjoy the music. I regret not bringing head phones or something into work with me. I mean I'm only doing a temp job, so they pretty much allow me to be on my own. In one of those instances today, when my attention span shortened and something else caught my eye, I proceeded to open iTunes. I was mostly looking at the interface, since I've heard it's the greatest thing since the Squagle. And it is pretty decent. But to my surprise, there is butt-loads of music on the office network. They all seem to be switching and sharing, but there are at least 4 separate playlists. To my delight, the music seems to have been made for me. It's almost as if they saw me coming. And I'm being dead serious, it has every kind of music I listen to...even the obscure things. The Postal Service, Avenue Q, The Cure, Bob Dylan, The Magnetic Fields...lots of "the" bands. It's all so wonderful to see non-mainstream music and that's it. I don't question these coincidences in my life anymore, I just look upon them as special places for me in the world.

Finally at break today (not lunch, because I eat in the office) I witnessed New York art at it's finest. I walked through Union Square, to see Circus Amok. Street performers, doing crazy things, playing crazy songs...hating George Bush. Now I don't think that the whole performance had to do with politics (although some say Eleanor Roosevelt could be likened to a bearded woman). It just so happened I saw the elephant with a patriotic hat who happened to start a war with Iraq, not believe in greenhouse gases, or provide decent healthcare; I wonder who they are talking about. Then they put Harold? into the "curtained mystery space" and made him disappear...on November 2nd...because "You too can make him disappear on November 2nd!!!" Never a dull moment in New York. Like last week when I saw an on-duty cop playing some young NYU student's guitar instead of being a cop. I later deduced that it was an anti-terrorist guitar, so that was OK.

I'll fade out on this one appropriately listening to Norah Jones' I've Got to See you Again...cause I do...and I will. Oh, and what kind of music would an anti-terrorist guitar play? Hip-Hop?

You are like the buzzing of FLIES to him!!
So I painted my room this weekend. But not alone. That fire headed lady of mine came all the way from Philly, just to help me paint...or I helped her paint...or..we almost killed each other. I stepped in paint because I was gettin impatient with painting a white ceiling a slightly warmer white because I couldn't see where I had painted or missed. She was painting the edges and corners so any disruption to that cause by my painting would be a bad thing, thus causing the look of death. I have a bad habit of not cleaning up as I go and waiting to the end to do a clean sweep of anything, while she can't stand working in a mess, so we bashed heads many times on that matter. The list can go on, but I will not bore you further with details. Suffice it to say we finished around 9:00 last night.

Now one could argue that it was a terrible experience. We were tired, she was sick, and I had never painted a room before. But it wasn't. Sure, we had our moments of ungodly friction, but in the end we did it together. And when we finally finished and we just got to relax, all the weekend's transgressions went away. More importantly, every time I'm in my room I will have fond (yes, even the crazy ones) memories of this past weekend. Because it will further remind me of having cold pizza for breakfast, spending Saturday in Little Italy at the feast, both eating until we couldn't no more, and our late night trek to Walgreen's to get cheap, but tasty ice cream.

The point I'm trying to get at here, is that it's nice to experience the ups and downs of life with someone. Even if the downs happen, they are what makes the ups so much sweeter. And no, don't think that this is consistent fighting; it's about 5 minutes of unrefuted anger that subsides quickly I have a short attention span as it is and me staying angry with someone for a long time is only required when completely necessary. Life isn't perfect, so no one person should be either. I know this is a tired analogy, but think about it: a puzzle piece is no where near perfect; it's uneven, not much to look at and insignificant. But when that piece is fit with another, they create something more whole, more even, and their true meaning becomes more apparent ...all because they have each other.

Squagel?!?
If you're looking for me, try underneath the sea.

Sometimes lightining strikes at the weirdest moments and you have to stop exactly what you're doing and make things known...like the Squagle. Because I like talking to myself, you're probably like, "Tom! What in the name of Chef Boyardee is a Squagle?!?" So I'll answer.

In my "Summer of Summers" as from now on I am going to call it, I spent alot of time coming back and forth from the Philly area. The bulk of it was when I was helping Erika build a set for the rotten camp kids she worked with. This would require getting up ass early in order to be there at a decent timely hour. Down the block from said work place was many a choice for breakfast. What with me, and my unending money supply I opted to take advantage of this pleasentry. Dunkin Donuts was OK, but they are certainly not "reinventing the way America does breakfast." America likes eating donuts already, that isn't anything new. There was also the obligatory Juice/Smoothie place for all of you with testicular absence disease. Finally, there was Cosi. Now, I remember when it was Xando's, and then they all merged and weird things happened...whatever. They have your typical choice of coffee, breakfast sandwhich, blah blah blah. But there gleaming behind the Lexan divider was something I had never seen before. While it looked like a simple roll, it had a hole in the middle like a bagel. If that wasn't enough, the thing was square...square!...SQUARE I TELL YOU. It also had a name: THE SQUAGEL. I do enjoy those pun/interesting/unifying names of things. Like mandals, fauxhawk, and Puerto Greekans. So I won't lie and say the name didn't spark my interest...cause it did...so I'm not lying...

But there is alot more here to take into consideration. When you're from New York, the holiest of holies, among pizza, cheesecake, Jesus (if you swing that way) or Satan (If you swing the other way), is the bagel. They're large, they're hard on the outside, soft on the inside, warm all over, and Jewish. Sounds like a certain part of me, except I'm not Jewish, but I did have a bris per say. Anyhoo..when taking into consideration any bread product, particularly something bagelish, New York wisdom will automatically take over. With some hesitaiton, I took the plunge. I got an Asiago Squagle, with an egg omlette with cheese, provolone, onions and spinach. If that doesn't say good morning I don't know what does.

My Verdict? It's great..perhaps the best new breakfast treat known to modern man-kind (modern because the slab of Mastadon is still the greatest breakfast in history). It's still hard on the outside and soft in the middle but in a different way. The bread is more sandy, it doesn't have that shine that most bagels have. Also it has a bailiy look to it... more on that later. For me it still has made it's own name. I don't think of it as a bagel; I think of it as something completely different. It has become a completely new choice for breakfast. With at least 6 different flavors, and endless toppings, the Squagle is something to be contended with. So I suggest that you haul your ass to Cosi and get it. NOW!

At least there is still some hope out there for original ideas. History shows that a new take on something old can go a long way. Sqaure bagels? That's novel. Sqaure bagels that don't taste like bagels; that's genius. But don't let this steer you the wrong way and heed my wisdom: things that work well on thier own do not need to be tampered with. Only a few people come along in this world who can take something old and make it better or new. This excludes re-makes of songs, reality shows in general, and tennis skirts. Just leave things to die where they belong. Hey, if everything were trying to be Jesus, resurrecting with a twist, we'd be wearing head bands on our waists or something and they'd be made of velour. See...not a good idea.