Man vs. Hot Wing April 27, 2009

Happy Monday! I hope that weekends were great and that strange wind/rain storm that swept through Ontario didn’t leave you with a tree in your living room.

I was a spectator at one of the greatest events of the year! My friend, Wingman, took on the hot wing challenge at Duff’s Wings this past Friday. He’s been training for this event for a few weeks now, I believe chowing down on 20 ‘Death’ wings each visit.

For those of you unfamiliar with Duff’s, there’s a 8 layer rating system with wings ranging in heat from ‘Mild’ (oh, so boring) to ‘Armageddon’ (never tried it but I’m sure the world would end if I do). ‘Death’ being just below ‘Armageddon’. Each Duff’s location has a wall of fame which includes the record for the most amount of wings eaten in an hour – 83 (mild ones) – and the top 5 records for most ‘Death’ and ‘Armageddon’ wings consumed in an hour. Wingman was ready to take on the ‘Death’ wing record – 51.

I arrived just after he had started on his first 30. He was pounding those wings back faster than I could’ve imagined. Sauce on his face, runny nose, red blotchy face and messier hands than those seen on a 2-year-old who’s just thrust his hands into his chocolate birthday cake. Observe:

He downed 30 of those in a mere 22 minutes! He totally had this. The next order of 30 arrived and before he dug in, he took a sip of water. Nooooo! It ignited the fire pit formerly known as his mouth. He did continue to trek on but was moving a bit more slowly. I was getting worried as he reached the 35 wing mark. His paced has slowed down, in fact he was taking a 5 minute break! No time for breaks! At this point, our table, along with several other onlookers would shout out which wing he’d completed as he threw them into the bone bucket.

“Thirty-eight!”

“Thirty-nine!”

“Forty!”

It was at this point where I believe he uttered the words, “I quit.” Being the great friends that we are, we completed ignored this and told him it’d be a great disappointment should he quit now. Only 3 more wings and he’d be in 5th place on the wall of fame.

So what do you think? Did he do it?

He did it!!!!

With only seconds to go, he still had wing in his mouth (he’d been chewing on that piece for a good minute or so). If you can’t tell, the squigglies above the “YES!” is fire, I’m a total Paint professional.

The poor guy was hurting. He guzzled down pitchers of water and went numbingly cold, asking for layers of clothing. Once he regained his composure and was able to walk we vacated the restaurant. But did not leave without a victory shot. Observe:

Meat Drunk outside Duff's

It took us a while to get him positioned as he was a bit Meat Drunk. Think, sloshed after a night of drinking because you didn’t get a job you really wanted. That drunk. Who knew meat could do it to you, too? Anyways, Wingman was a trooper and after heading home for a brief rest, made it out for more fun that same night. Quite impressive.

I can confirm that after trying 1 of the leftover ‘Death’ wings, that it is quite a feat he’d accomplished. The one I ate was cold and the sauce had congealed so the heat was barely a factor for me… that was until I took a sip of water. My goodness, almost instantly my mouth was salivating, my eyes were watering and I had to wipe a slight sweat line off my brow.

Wingman, I know you don’t have plans to head over to Duff’s anytime soon, so I’ll be sure to check the wall to make sure you’re name is proudly displayed.

Lastly, a quick shout out to his Coach, for excellent coaching and sweat gear and Wingman’s wife for wiping his face, refilling his water glass and making this awesome cape:

Some artsy things April 21, 2009

I was dragged to the Toronto COMICON convention on Sunday, if you haven’t caught on yet (keyword: dragged) I wasn’t looking forward to it, it was one of the reasons why I’m the best girlfriend in the world. Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy reading graphic novels (and this expands further than just Archie comics) but I’m not one to hunt and search and dig for one. I’d prefer to have someone else do the dirty work for me and just hand the book over to me when they’re done with it.

Turns out, the convention wasn’t too bad. I didn’t see too many folks dressed up as their favourite characters and I ended up buying something! Too bad it wasn’t a graphic novel though. I came across a booth for artist Willow Dawson and fell in love. She paints adorable images on cardboard with acryllic paint. I’d been hunting for something to put on my living room wall and I’ve finally found something – it only took 8 months. So, I picked up a series that I’ve called “bird on branch” and am in the process of framing them. Art on the walls is one step closer to adulthood.

My personal favourite isn’t even one that I picked up, I love the Robot with Tree image. I may have to track her down and buy that one, too.

Photo is courtesy of me, one of the prints I picked up this weekend. It’s from my crappy camera phone, since my camera battery is still missing.

So This is Unconditional Love April 17, 2009

P’s getting spayed today. We spent the night together, playing – mostly me laughing at her as she tries to attach with cone around her neck (to prevent her from scratching her ears).

I dropped her off at the vet’s this morning and she had no clue what was going on. She loves going there because it’s the only time she gets to go outside, tucked away in my little kitty purse. I tearfully bid her adieu (like a sad cat lady) and left for work.

I’ve been sitting at my desk all day waiting for 3 o’clock, when I’ll be able to call and see how she did. I talked about her a lot today, asking a coworker, who used to work as a vet’s assistant, if they’d call me before 3 if something went terribly wrong? What would happen if she licked up some water from my kitchen tap (she was to be food and liquid free after midnight)? She reassured me that all was well.

3 o’clock comes and I had to force myself to wait until 3:09 before I picked up my phone to call. Turns out my baby is fine and is “back to normal and being rambunctious” aka she’s being bad, which is normal for her. Although, I have to admit, I’m a bit disappointed, I was hoping this surgery would calm her down a bit. Let’s hope that when I pick her up tomorrow afternoon, the backs of my hands will not see another bite or scratch from her (for some time at least).

I’m not sure what to expect when I get home tonight. Will I be bored stiff at how silent it is without her? Will I be able to sleep without her curled up on my tummy or wrapped around my head? Will I say to myself, “so this is what life was like pre-kitty”? And enjoy a peaceful night where I don’t have to check the cup of water next to my bed ensuring she hasn’t been sipping from it, get up every time she opens the door to my bathroom – yes, she can do this, leave the comforts of my bed when she steals Kleenex from the box and eats it, or yell at her when she knocks my iPod, alarm clock, cell phone, etc off my bedside table. I’ll probably enjoy a peaceful night, but I’ve got a love/hate relationship with all of her annoying habits. This must be what unconditional love is. Wowza. Does this officially make me a crazy cat lady? Or am I just a maternal person, who’s now fully completed “European Wife Training“? I really hope it’s the latter.

Photo courtesy of me, P hailing her mama or upset that the flash of my camera interuppted her beauty sleep.

Book Review: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn April 8, 2009

A coworker (she’s really good at issuing nicknames to those she mentions on her blog, I shall call her SicTransitGloria… although I may need to shorten that) lent me this book. It’s a coming-of-age story of Francie Nolan, an Irish/Austrian-American (although, she’s not first generation American) growing up in Brooklyn, NY (Williamsburg to be exact).

The story focuses around the lives of the Nolans, who live in a tiny apartment and are poor as sin, surviving off of reheated coffee and on special occasions, condensed milk! Francie’s Father, Johnny, works odd jobs here and there but he’s a drunk so he can’t hold a steady job. He’s normally found waiting tables at different restaurants and singing for the customers. He uses the tips he makes that night for booze later on. Her Mother, Katie, is a hard worker and cleans the apartments/halls of the other tenants for rent and some money. She’s determined to get her kids through high school and onto post secondary, the first in their entire family to finish both. Her younger brother, Neely, growing up he and Francie collect junk, paper, anything that can be sold for pennies.

I loved this book. Betty Smith’s writing is just fabulous and I can totally relate to Francie, although I’m not poor and I don’t like condensed milk. We both dislike reheated coffee, though. Francie, like I, is the eldest child in a family that is of European decent. We’re both raised to learn the how-to’s of running a household, European Wife Training as my friends and I joke. We’re expected to clean, cook, care for siblings, pretty much play 2nd mother (or nanny) to everyone. It’s a bit difficult at times because, as displayed in the book, younger brothers (and maybe even older ones, I don’t know) get away with murder. Any misbehaviour can be written off as, “boys will be boys”  and all is well again.

There was one specific scene in which Katie can only afford to have one of the two go back to school. Francie is dying to go back and complete high school whereas Neely wants nothing to do with it and to continue working. Katie decides to send Neely to school. She backs this decision up with, “If Neely isn’t forced back, he’ll never go back. I made a promise that my children will finish high school. You, Francie, love school and are determined to go back, once we’re back on our feet I know you’ll register because you want to.” It was just heartbreaking.

Thanks SicTransitGloria for passing this read along to me.

I’ll Pass On That April 8, 2009

I was at the gym yesterday and heard a radio ad for Wendy’s. It was for the just plain awful Baconator burger (see right). I get it, people like meat, I like meat. But this is too much. The spokeslady, Wendy (I guess), was saying, “Who wants to bother with lettuce, especially when you’re just going to pick it off”. Seriously. People pick lettuce off of burgers? It doesn’t taste like anything, maybe dirt if you don’t wash it but it’s like crunchy water.

You can argue that throwing lettuce onto a burger that’s already 23549135 calories and 254.25 grams of fat is silly, just like ordering a diet coke with your double cheeseburger combo is ok because you know, you “just to be healthy” but do you really need 2 patties, 2 strips of cheese and 6 pieces of bacon cramped inbetween two stale buns? I don’t think so.

I remember, once my brother asked me to order and double whopper (O.M.G. I just saw that there’s such a thing as a triple whopper) for him at BK. I refused to ask for this, partly because I was worried that the cashier would think it was for me but mostly because its disgusting (and I love myself a Whopper). This brings me to this question, why do boys love these types of burgers? I’ve only heard of one female order a Baconator and she regretted her drunken decision in the morning.

All of the burgers mentioned above seem to be the starting point of items found on this website. I look at the images on this site, praying that these aren’t real and aren’t actually served for people to consume. No one needs this. The worst part is that people are able to eat things like this and their bodies don’t react to them. I’m sure that if I were to consume this, I wouldn’t be able to work for days, as proved by my first (and last) visit to The Cheesecake Factory and after eating just 1/4 of ones of their pasta dishes.

Anyways, the kicker is the tagline at the end of this Wendy’s Baconator ad. Go to Wendy’s for a quick, quality meal. Puh-leeze. I’d rather not and  say I didn’t.

Image courtesy of noisia on Flickr.

Me vs. Kitty v.2.0 April 1, 2009

I’m losing the battle against P. She’s now conditioned to the spray bottle and is able to tolerate the sprays, she still doesn’t like getting soaked though. She’s finally grown large enough to jump onto our bookshelf. I’ve come home to 2 broken picture frames and all items on the top shelf dropped (this include my camera) and books mixed into her kitty litter (don’t worry, roomie, they weren’t your books!).

I thought I’d be able to outsmart her by repositioning my dining room table and placing the chairs upside down and ontop of the table but she managed to balance herself on the chair leg and jump onto the shelf. I’ve now brought myself to positioning the table in such an odd way that there is now a big gaping space in my “dining room”. My apartment is far too tiny to be wasting such valuable space.

I decided to take some photos of my new layout for you all to see for yourselves and to my surprise, when I went to turn on my camera, nothing happened. After some investigating, I had discovered that my camera battery is P’s latest victim. I assume that when she pushed it off the top shelf, it fell, opening the memory/battery storage area and my battery popped out. P must have thought, “oh, new toy!” and has hidden it somewhere in my apartment. I’m convinced she has a hidden stash of Q-Tips, matches and my camera battery. Anyways, I’ve had to resort to using Microsoft paint (I’m not privileged enough to have fancy computer programs) to recreate my dining room for you. Enjoy!