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Dope Beatz, Vol. 6

So this weeks beatz are coming off of the playlist for the movie The Wackness. I'll give Eliza a break and some more time to find some juicy indie hits for next time.

I recommend this movie to anyone looking for a solid, indie hit with good laughs and not your usual Hollywood storyline. Some reviews of the movie suggested it would be the next Juno. I don't think it ever made it there (since not that many people even remember the title) but it was released in 2008 and tells the story of a middle class white kid who sells weed in NYC and is transitioning from high school graduation to the fall of freshman year in college. Ben Kingsley's character is hilarious as the kid's psychiatrist, and there are a lot of other big names in the movie like Famke Janssen and Mary-Kate Olsen. It's refreshing, goofy, and not necessarily all wife'd up with happy endings at the denouement of the movie.  

Back to the playlist though. Even if this movie was worse than Gigli, it would be worth it to listen to the audio side of things. The soundtrack is remarkably fresh while being made up of old school rap and hip-hop jams. Which just demonstrates the strength of this musical genre in the late 80's and 90's--this older stuff literally freshens up today's music market in the face of all of the crappy rap music being produced because it is timeless and classic. Not to mention, these artists actually had skills in music and lyrical production. The playlist sports Biggie, Nas, KRS-One, Tribe Called Quest, and Wu Tang to name a few. And it's not the usual #1 hits (at least, not that I'm aware of). For the most part, I was only somewhat familiar with the tracks, and some I hadn't heard at all before. 

The playlist can be found here, but here are some of my favorites.

"Can’t Ya See" - Total

"The What" - Notorious B.I.G. feat. Method Man

"You Used to Love Me" - Faith Evans 

"The World is Yours" - Nas

And then some reggae originating in the 60's by The Pioneers:

. "Long Shot Kick the Bucket" - The Pioneers 
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I'm going to pee on Trump Towers this weekend

To be honest, it's actually only this big.

Because that would clearly be the appropriate response to the behavior that Donald Trump is exhibiting lately. Luckily, Obama finally released his birth certificate. He then proceeded to cross his arms in front of him and bring them hastily down towards his crotch area while pragmatically exclaiming, "Suck it, Mr. Trump." Or at least, that was his reaction in my mind when I heard the good news. 

I bet Barry Obamz (that's his street name in my imaginary world where Obama has a street name) purposely refrained from releasing that vital information just to see Donald Trump running all over the country ferociously stating that Obama's birth certificate was being held in private because he was born in another country (Gasp! A multicultural human being as the president of the US? If only!). Obviously, it's all due to Trump's amazingly large ego that the birth certificate was finally released. It was clearly NOT due to the fact that B.O. had decided that Trump had run around with his comb over flailing in the wind long enough. Or maybe it was...and maybe Trump is even more of a loser than I originally thought...and Barack is the man, as I also originally thought. 

Regardless of this whole birth place fiasco, Trump should stick to what he's good at, which is shitty reality TV, paying pretty women to be his wives, and pretending to be a bigtime businessman. If he wants to pull up his pants everyday and think about how awesome he is because he's good at real estate development (wow, real impressive), then that's fine. I just don't want him venturing anywhere near the White House. Definitely not his domain.

You could tell that even Sarah Palin thought it was a bad idea, as she stated ever so nicely that she appreciates Trump using his resources for something that fascinates him (and with the same dumb 'I'm a moron' accent that she has perfected in her glory days as a Republican political celebrity).

And for anyone that thought that she agreed 100% with Trump's treasure hunt, she's not as stupid as she looks or sounds. She just covered it up with the whole "I guess I like broccoli if that's what you like," kind of support. Not just throwing stones though? C'mon Sarah. That's throwing pebbles in the preschool playground. Trying to dethrone Prez Obama because his birth certificate was privately held is like being outraged over his democratic candidacy because he was rumored to have smoked marijuana and maybe even tried cocaine. Pretty sure Trump's not allowed to run for president if we're going after skeletons in the closet...not that he ever should be allowed to run, even if he were Mother Theresa. 

To top it off, in an ingenious article by New York Magazine, Trump was even compared to The Human Centipede. Meaning that the only reason he's got some weight in the polls is because people are simply transfixed by his performance and the lack of serious alternate options. The article compared it to when a group of people can't decide on a movie, but a third of the group immediately chooses The Human Centipede right away simply because it's an outrageously gross and ridiculous storyline. Once other movie choices are introduced with rave reviews and mesmerizing, intricate plots, then the group will shift towards the better candidate. Solid analogy, especially since Trump probably loves the whole ass-to-mouth idea. Or ass-in-mouth. Or ass as mouth? I don't know. He's an ass, and has quite the mouth on him. End of story.
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Pictures That Reveal My Maturity


 They need a better marketing team
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Omigosh, the ROYAL WEDDING!!


So, I guess I missed yet another superficial female craze in getting amped for the royal wedding. Although, I really should not limit this topic to ladies only since apparently everyone is peeing themselves about it? Could someone explain to me why? I know Prince William and (soon to be) Kate Middleton are British royalty and all that, and I'm sure the wedding will be extravagant, expensive, and breathtakingly whimsical with the horses and carriages and royal attendances. I simply fail to understand why I need to read/hear/watch everyone in the entire world discuss all of the plans and possibilities surrounding the big event.

It's true, Kate Middleton seems like a swell young Brit, fit for William's balding head and horse-like face that morphs more and more into that of his father. While he's hee-hawing about, she keeps her British accent cool while rocking some fabulous shiny brown hair (+1 brunettes). She's naturally pretty, intelligent, and exudes that certain class that all princesses must have. Her engagement ring is jaw-droppingly elegant, and I'm sure her wedding gown will be even more so, but is it really necessary to have entire shows on major cable channels that have a Kate Middleton lookalike go and try out a variety of hair styles for hours so we can all dream of the different ways she could wear her dazzling locks on her wedding day? I mean, who really cares?

It's nice to see people from all cultures participating in the hype leading up to this elaborate romantic royal event, but everyone should take it down a notch or two and focus on their own lives for a hot minute. The wedding (I honestly don't even know what day it falls on) isn't going anywhere and with the seventeen thousand different cameras that will snapping and video-taping away, I'm sure you can watch all of the highlights on ESPN. Does anyone understand what happens to celebrities who are smothered by the paparazzi? I'll give you a hint: Princess Di, Britney Spears. And to think it's already started for poor Kate--I hope Willy's packing a punch so it's all worth it in the end.

Speaking of Kate vs Di, I felt very irked by those who spoke of Kate in comparison to Princess Diana. They are two different people, and its rather incestuous to speak of William's fiancée in the shadow of his mother. This isn't Oedipus; it's the British royal wedding of 2011. That's inapprop.
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Gabrielle Chanel Has A Nice Ring To It

Gabrielle with her loverboy, Boy.

I had the great pleasure of watching Coco avant Chanel (Coco before Chanel) a few weeks ago, and I was thrilled to realize that Chanel's first name was actually Gabrielle, and that Gabrielle Chanel was an incredibly resilient, autonomous young woman who successfully maneuvered business and pleasure in an upper-class man's world at the turn of the 20th century.

Audrey Tautou's acting skills never seem redundant although she is in nearly every French movie re-released in the US. She gracefully assumes the position of whatever character she portrays, and I thought her version of Coco Chanel was remarkably well done. Coco Chanel grapples with issues such as wealth, education, family, business, individuality, and love. She approaches these issues with a maturity and life experience that not even her close sister understands, and she doesn't seem to take "no" for an answer despite the times when men basically ruled the world.

My other realization is that Coco Chanel wasn't all about spending thousands and thousands of dollars on a silly bag with her logo adhered. She was more about establishing an identity for yourself than simply following a trend. And that identity had to come from the basics: black, white, brown, gray. Nothing crazy. She built the foundation for her global brand on simplicity and modernity, and although she has passed away and her brand may be a little more bedazzled than she originally would have liked, it still exhibits class and if not purchased, then it should be imitated.

The film had a resonating effect on me, as I felt that I had a lot more in common with Coco Chanel than I originally thought. My naive assumption of the designer was that she was born and raised Parisian nobility with a flair for designing really, really, really expensive clothes and accessories. In actuality, she came from nothing and made her way through the world where women were not really permitted to exist--they were accessories in and of themselves. She was an entrepreneur and an innovator. And while she was unsure and skeptical about the concept of love, she discovered it nonetheless and could have given two shits about marriage. Coco Chanel entertained in a quirky, unusual manner and always seemed to leave a lasting impression on anyone she met. 

But most importantly, she wasn't one to latch on the next big thing. She preferred her own route with just the basics of fashion and somehow created her own look. Not to compare myself to Chanel or anything, but my favorite outfit has to be a pair of dark jeans and a white t-shirt. Boyish, maybe. Timeless, yes. Thinking outside the box while secretly hiding in it? Just like my fellow Frenchie who shares the same name.

"Black is the only color that brings out the eyes."
-Coco Chanel
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Dope Beatz, Vol. 5

The Naked and Famous -- Girls Like You
Eliza says: This song is off their album Passive Me, Aggressive You, which came out in 2010.  The Naked and Famous is a relatively new band from New Zealand. They’re coming to Boston May 2 with Foals and Freelance Whales at Paradise Rock Club and I definitely recommend getting tickets!  They’re sort of in the Indie-Electronic genre..but very catchy and can only imagine what they sound like live.
I say: This is another great song from the aforementioned Naked and Famous (Dope Beatz Vol. 1). I think I just may take up Eliza's suggestion on the Paradise Rock Club ticket purchase. I could listen to Billy Joel at the Paradise and still be wowed. It's a great venue, so it only amplifies great artists like these folks. This song should be soaked up by all the girls out there who are struggling with that outer beauty/inner security dilemma. You're not going to fall in love if all you're obsessed with is how much money he has and what kind of wedding ring you want. It's not about that. Not at all.

My Morning Jacket -- Circuital
Eliza says: My Morning Jacket has been one of my favorite bands for a long, long time.  Their new album Circuital doesn’t come out until May but the band decided to give us a free download of the title track. They haven’t made an album since 2008 so I am very anxious to hear the rest of the album.
I say: Seems like they're really onto something here. This song has a lot to say in just a few minutes; which is impressive since Glenn Beck could go for days talking about absolutely nothing. This song is very Robert Frost and The Road Not Taken, which people always assume is about taking the more unique, harder path in order to determine greatness, when in fact its more about how you kind of end up in the same place but that the process in deciding has made a significant impact on your personal growth. For example, the line "the way you can't lose nothing, but nothing can be gained," is Frostin all over the place. The line at the end "let her know" is just evidence that this song is pushing someone to push themselves, despite the fact that the outcomes may seem to be equal.

The Morning Benders -- Better in Blue
Eliza says: My Morning Benders just played at Coachella, which my boyfriend, his roommate and I decided to stream live this past weekend and imagine we were there…This song is off of their new remix EP Japan Echo that came out in March in an effort to raise money for Japan’s Society Earthquake Relief Fund.  100% of the proceeds go towards the fund and the whole album has some great remixes.  Pretty cool stuff.
I say: I would hope that they played at Coachella, and with some of this remix stuff if possible, because it's pretty trippy. I like when bands do remix albums themselves. They know their music; some guido DJ should not be trying to make it sound better. Only they can make it sound better...for example, Phoenix's remix album. This song has a lot going on in terms of different sounds and beats. Save it for second when you can kind of tune into everything going on. 

Tune-Yards -- Bizness
I say: New England native Merrill Garbus maximizes the potential of instrument and voice looping to create some impressive jams with basically a one man show (and some bass playing by an addition here and there). Looping can feel forced and synthetic, but she revitalizes a music making method that I never thought would really come out on top since you can always seem to tell when something is fake or forced. Check out her new album, with this top song "Bizness".

I'm from Barcelona -- Charlie Parker
I say: You name it, they've got it. And of course, they're from Sweden, right alongside some of my favorite independent/electronic artists. I'm from Barcelona has 29 band members and pretty much any instrument you can think of (except for maybe the steering wheel drums, sorry dad). Their whole aura is pretty feel good to the point where I wasn't even sure about their music for a second cause it may have been too cheerful for my taste, but it's good stuff. No one wants Debbie Down's music collection. You people all like Glee and shit anyways. I'm sure you'll eat this up. 
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Family Tidbit

My niece used to call Hooters, "The place with the owls."

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My mother's favorite NYC restaurant...is a tranny bar.

Are you surprised? She clearly doesn't go for the food.

Lucky Cheng's hidden flower (which technically doesn't exist, unless the hostess got some gender transforming medical work done down under) can be found off the beaten path in the East Village. Emphasis on the beaten.

These lovely ladies produce what's called a "Drag Cabaret Dinner Show". If you go, which you must, it will be one of the most outrageous places you've ever been in your life, and to think I went for the first time at the age of 10.

Circa 1998, we had to sprint out of the place to retreat from the penises that were slowly being uncovered tranny by tranny. Clearly wasn't ready for that at 10, hence the rapid pullout. Are these puns getting worse? Sorry. I barely remember what happened because it was so traumatizing. I remember my sister's boyfriend getting pulled on stage for a drag queen contest, which was all fun and games. Then the famous Asian tranny there decided to sing "Just call me angel of the morning..." around the lounge, and things went downhill pretty quickly when he/she plopped down on the banquette seating and started to spread those shaven man legs of hers. Cue the exit.

In 2004, we ventured once more to New York with the fam and some friends. Of course, the Jodester just had to revisit the taints over at Lucky Cheng's, so we headed there for yet another racy dinner. My two friends from high school were with me, and one had the fortune of having her palm read. The woman, who was the one true gine in there I'm pretty sure, told her she would be encountering a lot of "pussy" in the year to come. Not exactly your daily horoscope, but hey, you never know. That little extravaganza was followed up by an on stage banana eating contest. So risqué! Wouldn't you agree darling? Now, if that's what your reaction was, you probably shouldn't read any further. The bananas weren't hand held. They were crotch held. By a straight, good looking guy from the audience. The ladies? Just random hos from the audience. And by hos, I mean urban/suburban 30 somethings who had ventured into the penis fly trap that is Lucky Cheng's.

As you must with traditions, I popped some more Lucky Cheng cherries in 2007 when I brought some girlfriends from college. I knew what I wanted this time. One extra special lapdance for an extra special friend...clearly the one friend that is always the most embarrassed when anything uncomfortable rolls her way. A smooth $50 later, she was in the lapdance chair cage of death, a small stool surrounded by metal bars giving the gymnast tranny some leverage to flip her crotch into my dear friend's face as many times as possible. If fifteen minutes of crotch sniffing isn't horrifying enough, she was then turned over, legs hoisted into the air with buttox in the vicinity of the mysterious tranny weiner, and severe clothed humping began. And you thought it couldn't get worse! Oh, tube tops fell down, nipples were shown, hair was flying, laughter was had. Thanks, friend. You were truly a good sport.

Things calmed down a bit after the lapdance from hell. We had some dinner and drinks, and of course had to go to the bathroom in twos and threes at one point, as every band of females does. The bathroom attendant is not an actual woman, as you may have suspected, but a drag queen of sorts. This time around, he/she happened to be a rather foreboding drag queen. Something was up. So we had to ask her to take a picture with us at the table. She followed us all upstairs to snap the kodak moment (should be in a commercial, really), and three or four friends gathered around her lovely yellow dress to capture the memories. A few days later, I discovered the shots of the night on the ole Facebook, and much to my surprise, I was really delighted by the resulting photo....Her penis was hanging out. She had lifted up her sexy little number of a dress and with some sort of pleasured grimacing, revealed her limp member for the rest of us to remember forever. Unfortunately, once I had alerted the troops of their peen pic, it was quickly removed and trapped in the confines of computer wasteland.

As you can see, life at Lucky Cheng's only gets worse, or better, depending on how you look at it. I plan on going at the end of April, so I'll be sure to keep you posted.
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God Forbid Women Get Pap Smears

I've been trying to withhold the desire to unleash fury towards the Republican party, but I think that's nearly impossible at this point. I would very much like to invite any fervent Republican supporters to attempt to explain why their party seems to think its perfectly normal to create such disarray in the government over a women's healthcare clinic which provides much needed women's health services to patients of all ages and incomes.

They also kill unborn babies, THREE PERCENT OF THE GOD DAMN TIME. If we were fair and treated all medical offices equally, shouldn't we also poop our pants about all of the gynecologists that have the ability to prescribe a medical abortion pill? F off gynecologists, I can't believe you would give somebody an abortion. You do realize that our planet is overpopulated and you basically want to force people who cannot physically, financially, mentally support a child, to have a child, just because they decided to get their rocks off. I'm sorry, I did not realize that this was anyone else's decision but my own.

I hope they follow through with their tomfoolery regarding the rights of all vaginas everywhere. It will only backfire when the daughters of all of those Republicans realize they can't talk to their conservative, obtuse, wretched excuse for parents about anything regarding the S word...(sex!) and can no longer hide in the confines of Planned Parenthood because Daddy didn't like that they were giving out condoms and providing free testing for sexually transmitted diseases. Have fun dealing with your whore of a daughter's infertility because she didn't realize that STD's even existed, let alone that syphilis left untreated can cause sterility.
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QT with Mama J

After a long discussion in which Mama J speaks of obscene things, and I repeatedly exclaim, "Mom!!"...

"Well, you know I'll be toasting to it at your wedding."

I'll give you all three tries to guess what "it" refers to.

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Athletes are dirtbags. But why?

Let's face it. Athletes are stereotypically d-bags for a reason. They think they walk on some higher ground, with their ball playing and lady killing and naked man showering. I get it, that makes total sense. If I can throw or kick or heave a ball or some sort of similar object in the proper direction and score special points for my "team", then I get to do whatever I want. Sign me up?

Now, if you're an athlete and are reading this somehow (or having someone read it to you), don't get your under armour panties in a bunch because I am a lover and supporter of all athletes everywhere. I just want the professionals and serious division one athletes to take it down a notch and try to dig up some humility deep down in their vapid souls.

In our society, we kiss the ground that athletes (and celebrities) walk on while refusing to acknowledge the nonexistant salaries of teachers, humanitarians, volunteers, and other good natured folks who seek not a six figure paycheck but the satisfaction of the good they create in the world. All I ask is that these hardcore athletic superstars understand that "their job is to catch a ball," as Daniel Tosh says...and you couldn't find a more watered down, logical explanation of their daily tasks. Athletes should always continue to better themselves in other ways besides pumping iron and banging chicks.

And ladies, ease up on encouraging them. You can still oogle and drool and yearn for the chance to become the sexual object you desire to be, a vagina with legs and no self worth, but do you really want to sleep with a BU hockey player? Or a chubby Red Sox player covered in dirt from "sliding into home"? Or Tiger Woods, whose hairline starts behind his ears and smile doofily reaches from midcheek to midcheek? Women need to comprehend that these kind of people typically assume that they are so incredibly fascinating that they can simply jack hammer you to death, while thinking they have mastered the art of kama sutra.

To all of my athlete friends out there, know that I do enjoy your company and friendship. Just throwing it out there that maybe, just maybe, high level athletes should recognize that there are more things to life than simply making the draft, pocketing a smooth mill or seven, and scoring the hottest babes. Trust me, they'll thank me when they're older.
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Time To Make Your Pee Smell Funky.

If your pee smells funky already, you might want to get that checked out. If it just smells...you know, like urine, then you should make it worse by eating some asparagus, which is now IN SEASON! So buy it locally from some farmers or something and cook up some tasty asparagus recipes as they are neverending. I love me some asparagus. And I hate me some post-asparagus bathroom breaks. I'm guessing you probably do, too. But it's always worth it to eat those strange stalks with leafy buds at the end, so I'll stop the bladder chatter (hah! a rhyme) and skip to the recipes. 

For the real basics, you can simply steam the asparagus for about 4-5 minutes. The key to cooking is learning how to avoid measuring and timing and just go with the flow. So when I say, "Cook the asparagus for 4-5 minutes," I really mean, "Use your best judgment and determine when they're cooked by their bright green color or use one for a taste test." Afterwards, you can simply dip them in oil and balsamic vinegar. 

Some more extreme, hardcore, badass asparagus recipes (I kid, they're not really that difficult), include a tray of asparagus littered with sundried tomatoes and green onions/scallions, a tasty asparagus and goat cheese pasta,  and a sole wrapped asparagus with tangerine beurre blanc. These go in order from least difficult to more difficult and also from lighter courses to heavier fare, so depending on what you want to try for, you've got some options. Also, don't be frightened by the French. Beurre blanc and other Frenchy-smenchy cooking terms are really not that scary. 

Asparagus with Sundried Tomatoes and Green Onions
My Dad got this recipe from the local newspaper, but I'm sure its scattered somewhere online as well. Here's my version, quick and easy, just the way I like it.

1. Grab: a bundle of asparagus (or two)
a jar of sundried tomatoes (must be a jar to get the sundried tomato oil!)
a bundle of green onions (typically bagged at my supermarket)

2. Heat the oven to 450 F. In a large bowl, toss the asparagus and scallions with the oil from the sun dried tomatoes. Place on the baking sheet in an even layer, add sundried tomatoes, and season with S&P.  

3. Roast for 7 minutes. Then stir the veggies around and roast about another 5 minutes.

Asparagus, Goat Cheese and Lemon Pasta
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen, who adapted it from Bon Appetit

As it turns out, goat cheese makes a really great quick, creamy pasta sauce. And whether you blanche your pasta with asparagus or you swap in fava beans or string beans or seriously, you name it, this comes together so quickly that I forgave it for not winning any beauty contests.
Serves 6

1 pound spiral-shaped pasta
1 pound slender asparagus spears, trimmed, cut into 1- to 1 1/2-inch pieces
1/4 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon finely grated lemon peel
2 teaspoons chopped fresh tarragon plus more for garnish
1 5- to 5 1/2-ounce log soft fresh goat cheese (the pre-crumbled stuff will not melt as well)
Fresh lemon juice to taste (optional)

Cook your pasta in a large pot of well-salted water until it is almost tender, or about three minutes shy of what the package suggests. Add asparagus and cook until firm-tender, another two to three minutes. Drain both pasta and asparagus together, reserving one cup of pasta water.

Meanwhile, combine olive oil, lemon peel, tarragon and cheese in a large bowl, breaking up the goat cheese as you put it in. Add hot pasta and asparagus to bowl, along with a couple slashes of the pasta water. Toss until smoothly combined, adding more pasta water if needed. Season genersously with salt and pepper, and lemon juice if you feel it needs a little extra kick.

Sole Wrapped Asparagus with Tangerine Beurre Blanc
found on Epicurious.com from Gourmet Magazine 

For fish

  • 1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
  • 2 tablespoons chopped shallot
  • 4 (2- by 1-inch) strips fresh tangerine zest
  • 1 lb medium asparagus
  • 4 (5- to 6-oz) skinless gray sole or flounder fillets
  • 1/2 cup water

For beurre blanc
  • 1/2 cup fresh tangerine juice
  • 1 tablespoon finely chopped shallot
  • 1 stick (1/2 cup) cold unsalted butter, cut into tablespoon pieces
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • cayenne
  • 1/2 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
    Prepare fish:
    Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 450°F.
    Brush a 13- by 9-inch roasting pan with some of melted butter, then sprinkle shallot and zest in pan.
    Trim asparagus to about 7 inches long, then peel spears starting from 2 inches below tip of each.
    Arrange fish fillets, skinned sides up, on a work surface and season with salt and pepper. Lay 5 or 6 asparagus perpendicularly across 1 fillet and wrap fish around them to make a bundle. Repeat with remaining fillets and asparagus. Transfer bundles, seam sides down, to roasting pan and brush fish with remaining melted butter. Season with salt and pepper, then add water to pan. Cover pan tightly with foil and bake until fish is just cooked through and asparagus is crisp-tender, about 20 minutes.
    Make beurre blanc while fish bakes:
    Boil tangerine juice with shallot in a 2-quart heavy saucepan over moderate heat until reduced to about 2 tablespoons, 4 to 5 minutes. Reduce heat to moderately low, then whisk in 1 tablespoon butter, whisking constantly. Add remaining butter, 1 tablespoon at a time, whisking constantly, adding each piece before previous one has completely melted, and lifting pan from heat occasionally to cool mixture. Remove from heat and stir in salt, cayenne, and lemon juice.
    Transfer fish with a slotted spatula to a platter and reserve pan juices. Cover fish with foil. Discard zest, then pour pan juices into a 10-inch skillet and boil over moderately high heat until reduced to about 2 tablespoons, about 2 minutes. Gradually whisk into beurre blanc.
    Blot any liquid accumulated on platter with paper towels, then spoon sauce over fish.

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    Sundays, How I Loathe Thee...

    There are two types of people in this life...those who rejoice in the warm fuzzy thoughts of the fun that Sunday can bring you and those who quiver at the thought of its arrival after a long Saturday night. I happen to be one of the latter.

    Sure, everyone discusses the possibilities that a Sunday could bring. You have an entire weekend day to relax and do as you'd like before the work week starts up again. Some are incredibly boring and decide to spend all day finishing up projects or getting some spring cleaning done around the house. Others enjoy embracing their superbly lazy side by hanging out all day watching movies or reading. Although, let's face it, not many of us read anymore. Ambitious Sunday participants get motivated enough to plan a day trip somewhere or at least spare a few hours to get out of the house and into a new scenario. That's all great, I like all three of these options. Usually I tend to check off a bit of each, a little cleaning, a little relaxing, and some outdoors time getting that fresh Boston air in my lungs. But, there's always a pit in my stomach thinking about how the week and weekend are now over and we all must reboot. Suggestions for eradicating this sensation are welcome.

    I used to dislike Sundays in college because you were required to hit the library for the entire day and spend your time poring over homework as hungover as can be. However, you were usually surrounded by a fair amount of friends and could always reminisce in between chapter summaries about how Sara gave that guy a lapdance the night before How I wish I knew that Sundays would change post grad so that I could appreciate them more during the undergrad years. They don't change for the better or for the worse, but overall things get a little more monotonous and typically include fewer friends. Not to mention, at least for myself, Sundays are like New Years Eve, only for the weeks. Sunday means it's time for me to make resolutions and plan out my course of action for the next 7 days, and usually I can be my own harshest critic. And yet, I am my laziest on a Sunday. Oh, the irony of it all.

    Regardless, each time I feel bummed on a Sunday for some strange reason unbeknownst to me, I try to shake it off and usually am successful. I think post college life can be tough on everyone. We're now faced to pay for everything with a salary that could be less than ideal. We've got jobs that feel like they don't exactly fit into our personalities or fully challenge our critical thinking skills. We face all possible choices for life decisions from going to graduate school, to determining career paths, to establishing relationships (both with friends and romantically). There's a lot on our plate, and no one was joking when they said it would be dramatically different.

    I think we all should keep in mind that we are doing a great job. We are progressing, learning about ourselves and our options, enjoying life as adults as we rightfully deserve after 4 or so years in college. Though we may not have our best friends down the hall, there are many down the street or a neighborhood away. If in another city, there's always skype, facebook, texting, calling, tweeting, etc. Plan reunions of mini or immense proportions. There's no sense in feeling lonely just because life has started to feel like Office Space. Besides, once you give in to the dreaded fear that life is boring from here on out, and that marriage will be the death of you and children even more so, then you fail. I think we'll all get better with age. If you don't, then rearrange your goals and get your life and ass in shape. Adult life isn't the end of it all, it's only a further development of everything we've worked towards as a child. Oh, and remember. The label "adult" is only a label. Stay a kid at heart. Poop jokes will always be funny.

    Don't sweat the Sundays. Embrace them.
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    Confucius Say...

    ...well, he makes a lot of valid points. Probably explains why his ancient ditties are quoted constantly and revered for their impact on morality and inner development.  His actual quotes (versus the jokes) are legitimate reminders of who we should be as people, for example, "He who speaks without modesty will find it difficult to make his words good." That's right, you arrogant bastards, you dumb.

    So, after becoming irritated by the sheer ignorance and selfishness of others in various situations, I dive into these long rants in my head wondering if people are ever going to be, as the Jesuits say, people for others. As Ghandi said, "live simply, so that others may simply live." And don't assume you are the single most important entity for the survival of the human race. You're far from it, and if anything, I would hope that we all share that responsibility equally in our own little (or big) ways. In my wanderings, I've come up with some vital slaps on the wrist for our dreaded Americana culture.

    1. You do not own the sidewalk. You live in a city for a reason and should be sharing it accordingly. While you get points for environmentalism (cities are more green, think about it: condensed space means more green for Bambi), you suck as far as pavement control goes. Your ass does not need to take up the two and a half feet of cement designated for all of us to meander the small Boston streets. Move over.

    2. While driving, remember that you have a weapon, and I'd appreciate it if you avoided my legs and bicycle. Otherwise, I will sue you, even though I'm also against suing. Get over yourselves. You don't need to sue someone because your coffee was too hot. You need to smack yourself with a large object because you are a complete idiot.

    3. I don't give a flying f--- about whatever music you listen to. If you haven't noticed because you're insanely numb and apparently going deaf, your headphones blare every note, word, grunt, and autotune of that song past...what, 3/4 volume? I'm glad they cancel out noise for you. Unfortunately they don't cancel out you for us. 

    4. Cigarettes. Need I say more? Hmm, nothing like the challenges of a mountainy Boston 4 miler with the fresh scent of cigarettes in the air, in your lungs, consuming your breathing capabilities, causing cancer, etc. Just because they smoke on Mad Men doesn't mean you should, too. Don't worry, the Allston City Hipster Gang won't attack if the cigarette goes down.

    5. No one cares if you're wearing labels. That's for you, undergrads. Just because Tory Burch stuck a piece of gold plastic on a shitty patent leather bag doesn't mean you should shell out a couple hundy to sport it around town. Next time I see you, I will beat you, and then rob you, and give your bag back to the poor sweat shop workers who were paid fifty cents to make it. Buy yourself some creativity and originality instead. I don't care if you spend money, just make it look interesting. Yawn.

    Maybe Confucius wouldn't exactly be proud of my raving, but that's okay. He's long gone at this point. The bottom line is: don't tiptoe around society wondering if you're pissing off people left and right, but make sure that you do realize there are other human beings in your proximity. You can be a better person. 
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    Or don't, if you want to actually get some sleep. Ignore the movie's cliche sounding plotline of some creepy haunted kid. It's not just another run of the mill crappy Hollywood horror flick.

    Think of the same resonating aftershock as The Ring and What Lies Beneath, you know, movies with hauntings that seem to hit a little too close to home post-viewing when you're brushing your teeth at night or when you suddenly find yourself watching a fuzzy TV screen. It's going to make you double check underneath your bed and in your closet, among everywhere else in the house.

    Now, I don't want to "Superbad" this movie for anyone by reveling in its success to the point where you would think it falls short no matter how good it is. There are some cheesy moments where everyone has a good laugh. Which is nice, because you realize at a few points during the film that it's just pretend. Otherwise, I may have pissed myself a few more times. I don't think I can name any other movie that has made me (and the audience, including men) jump and/or scream so many times consistently throughout the two hours of wimpering.

    Insidious has got a little twist to the plotline that I thought made it interesting and different than just another possessed lunatic child or house with haunted souls wandering around. You can ask my coworkers. I looked like death itself on Monday morning because of that damn movie, and was shaken up all day.

    The musical score is fantastically effective and unique, and the movie hails from the creators of Saw and Paranormal Activity. Keep in mind, it's nothing like these movies as Saw is a complete gore fest, and Paranormal Activity, while somewhat jumpy, has some dumb broad running around a suburban house trying to make it look freaky as if she moved Blair Witch Project from a tent in the backyard back into the living room. However, I do think these movies are successful in their own particular horror genre, so I'm not surprised that Insidious definitely aced it's own special category. In fact, I'm kind of pissed at myself for writing this post at night as its not going to ease the whole falling asleep environment.

    Go see it. Now. If you dare. Muahahahaahah
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    Facebook Does NOT Qualify as a Dating Site

    (Spin off of my long lost blog)

    I need everyone here to reevaluate their lives if they're asking people out via Facebook. I find it hilarious and mind-boggling that people diss the online dating community...but somehow don't have a problem asking people out on Facebook or via email. My freshman year in college I was asked out at least twice on the ole 'book. This was back in 2005, when online dating was even more taboo, so why wasn't Facebook flirting off limits as well?

    What a surprise to log in and find you have a message lurking in your inbox from some random upperclassman. These weren't even shy guys; they were attractive athletes in the school's community who probably didn't have any issues getting girls. I mean, I understand that they had to resort to drastic measures in order to communicate with a lady like me, but that's besides the point (Gents, if you're reading this right now, it's all in good fun). Facebook isn't meant to ask people out. Online dating websites, yes. Facebook, no. At least advertising your singledom and trying to land rendez-vous on an online dating site is something that everyone on the website actually participates in. 

    When a girl (or guy, no gender generalizations here!) gets asked out on a date via the Book, she and all of her friends cringe and giggle at your desperate attempts to use this social networking site to score some ass. Don't get me wrong, the e-advances were somewhat successful. I did go on the dates, but you should have some pride. And realize that I spent days making fun of your lame ass. And now I'm revisiting those moments to entertain more people. 

    How incredibly awkward to first stalk a Facebook profile, and then wait for the lady to decide whether or not she feels like milking you for some free pizza/drinks/sex. Well, I'd hope that sex is always free, but ladies, if you gotta pay to get some, pay to get some. We all know its worth it. Just kidding. Don't ever pay. Hung is only a good idea in theory.