Adam: Hey, Mom.
Phy: Adam! We were wondering when we were going to hear from you. Do you know you haven't called us once since you moved to San Diego?
Adam: That's absolutely not true. I called you last week when I bought the car.
Phy: Oh. Well, it feels like you haven't called once. So how's everything going?
Adam: Great! You know, I don't have much to do right now other than search for jobs online, but...
Phy: You know, I've been meaning to tell you something for a long time. And now that you're out in California, I feel it's very important that I do.
Adam: OK. What?
Phy: I hate that picture of you smoking on your blog. You know, people hate smokers. And I think it's really going to hurt you, especially in a place as health-conscious as California.
The Marlboro Man's Worst Nightmare.
Adam: Well, Mom, you know, I don't think most people look at the picture and think, "Oh, he's a smoker." I think they get that it's a head shot, and it's meant to be ironic...
Phy: I don't think so. And there are so many other wonderful pictures of you. I want people to look at your picture and think, "Oh, what a healthy person."
Adam: OK. Well, I'll definitely take it under advisement.
Phy: Good. Now let me tell you who's having open heart surgery...
[FADE OUT. END SCENE.]
I seriously considered substituting the smoking picture with one of me mooning, but since I am job-searching at the moment, I figured I might as well play it safe and make Mom happy, too.
Speaking of the job search, nothing to report yet. I always forget how tedious it is to look for a new job. It kind of sucks the life out of you.
This morning, desperate for a break from my computer, I decided to go roller-blading. BW and I live within walking distance of Balboa Park, and I figured it would be a great place to skate.
The first thing I discovered is that the streets of San Diego are not paved with gold. In fact, they're barely paved at all. Very very rough and bumpy -- not good for blading. I opted instead to stay on the sidewalks, which are beautifully paved -- until they're not and one goes flying ass over tea kettle.
The second thing I discovered is that I can't find Balboa Park. I mean, I can see it at times in the distance, but I can't figure out how the hell to get there on foot/skate. At one point I found myself swiftly gliding over something called "Switzer Canyon." Later I arrived at a large golf course. All of these seem to somehow be affiliated with Balboa Park, but they're not the park itself.
I kept heading back to the residential streets, hoping to find some sort of sign indicating, "Balboa Park: This Way." I didn't. But I did realize at one point that I was no longer in North Park.
I was in South Park.
Yes, Virginia, there is a South Park.
The homes in South Park, at the least the ones I passed, were absolutely beautiful. And I'm bummed now that I can't tell people I live in South Park, because that would be endlessly amusing to me.
But it mystifies me to this moment that I went from North Park to South Park without ever hitting the park itself.
Oh well; tomorrow is another day.
One of my blog readers, my childhood friend Rebecca Landwehr Olgeirson, requested the chicken parmesan recipe I mentioned recently. Incidentally, a growing percentage of my readership consists of people with whom I went to elementary school. Rebe, Keith Johnson, Mike Bultman, Kasey Anderson... they all read the blog. Yet I am not in touch with a single person I went to college with. This says something about me, but I'm not sure what.
In any case, here, per Rebe's request, is the recipe:
2 large boneless chicken breasts or 4 fillets
1 egg, beaten
1 1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup seasoned bread crumbs
1 24-oz jar of Bertolli marinara sauce
2 cups shredded part-skim mozzarella cheese
1 cup grated parmesan cheese
1 large yred, orange or yellow bell pepper
1 head of broccoli
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp butter
Salt, pepper, garlic powder to taste
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Rinse chicken with cold water and shake off excess water.
Coat each chicken breast or fillet in flour.
Dip each breast in egg, then coat thoroughly in bread crumbs.
Shake salt, pepper and garlic powder over each breast to taste.
Medium-heat butter and oil in large skillet or chicken fryer.
Add chicken and let cook for three minutes on each side (for breasts) or two minutes each side (for fillets).
Remove chicken and place in center of large rectangular Pyrex dish.
Chop pepper into large pieces.
Chop the stems off the broccoli and separate the florets.
Arrange the broccoli and pepper pieces around the chicken in the Pyrex.
Pour 3/4 of the marinara sauce over the entire dish.
Sprinkle mozzarella and parmesan cheeses over sauce as evenly as possible.
Place in oven uncovered and cook for 35 minutes.
Enjoy!
Homo out. ♥
5 comments:
better pic
I liked the first picture better. I thought it sort of mocked smoking. Much more subtle message.
But a word of advice: if I were googling you because I was interested in hiring you, I would want to know that you could spell desperate. Of course, maybe spelling it wrong would send an equally subtle message, one like, "See? I'm not desperate at all. I don't even know how to spell the word. You need me."
So, I guess you have to decide if more of the world is like Phyllis or if more of the world is like me.
Hate to sound like a mom, but I always got kind of sad about the smoking picture too, just because I love you and smoking really is bad for you...
Anyhow - hooray and thanks for the chicken parm recipe! I love the addition of broccoli and the initial browning of the chicken, I will definitely give it a try!
I think you should use one of your pictures from your kareoke sessions in the Pochanos.
Smoking picture never bothered me... however, I do remember a young boy(ah, you) about 25 years ago banning his father's staff from smoking anywhere near you... kj
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