March 2007 Archives

There are many reasons to enjoy Los Angeles, and one of them is the greatness of Koo Koo Roo. It's sort of like a West Coast version of Boston Market for people who are concerned about health and image. However, Koo Koo Roo makes one mean bird, as the saying goes.

Anyway, I went there today for lunch, and I found myself in line behind a dude with a huge purple mohawk. In other words, just another day in Los Angeles. When he was finished paying, the person behind me says, "Talk about scary, huh?". If I were to review all of the people I have seen sporting a mohawk, I would say that this guy was not scary at all. Still, I turned around, to see who it was and said "You can say that again." And who was this person passing style judgment? some 45-year-old trying to look like a 35-year-old with such obvious plastic surgery in her face she would make Joan Rivers or Janice Dickinson look restrained in comparison.

However, in typical LA fashion, as I go outside, both the mohawk guy and the woman so disapproving of his style each drove away in a Prius.

I had another dream last night that I just had to write down. I don't normally dream about my friends, but this dream was different. I was surrounded by a bunch of people that I knew in High School back in Horsehead (by the way, somebody from my high school contacted me after seeing the video I did with Katie). I can't really make much sense of it. I guess some of us were getting together, and as well all amassed at the place where we were supposed to be meeting, but we needed to get downstairs. Once downstairs, there was lots of fun to be had in some sort of field.

Everybody decided to go downstairs using the elevator, and it was a huge elevator because at least fifty people fit inside. The only problem with using the elevator was that it happened to be broken; it went from the tenth floor to the second floor, but never the bottom floor, which is where we had to be. I blinked, and then I was the only person in the elevator. Everybody made it to the field at the bottom of the building, but I was determined not to leave before the elevator was working. I finally was able to visit the ground floor, and as the doors opened, I woke up.

I think I've had a similar dream before, but I can't remember if it was earlier in the night, or a few weeks ago. If my class ever gets around to organizing our ten year reunion, I guess I'll have a really good story should I need to kill any conversations.

Since I didn't get drunk with my Wii this weekend, I promised to share all of the Miis that inhabit the Wii. Because I am not sure all of my friends wanted their likenesses broadcast all over the tubes of the internet, I have protected some names so they'll be a little less pissed off at me when they find out.

There is a high probability that corporeal forms of some of these Miis will show up in some antics on this blog at a later date, so please continue to meet the familii.

I love my big screen television. I love that I can afford to get every HD channel that folks at DirecTV can send me. I used to think that Rome was the show that did HD the most justice, but considering all of the sex and violence, it might not be the best way to demonstrate all of the wow factor of HD to some people. Planet Earth on the Discovery channel has now surpassed anything that has ever been on HD. It's not only beautiful to look at, but is wonderfully interesting. There is no way you can't be excited by this documentary. I just want to know the answer to one question. What happens to the baby polar bears?!?!

I know I promised everybody a Wii update with lots of pictures and lots of drunk debauchery, but alas, I told a lie. There was plenty of fun with the Wii, but it followed a trip to Newport Seafood, and after stuffing ourselves full of various Vietnamese delights like spicy lobster (5 lbs of it, but I had to share it with the rest of the table), I wasn't getting much support on the "Let's Get Some Beers and Play Tennis!" chants as we returned from the 626. I am not sure if the thought wasn't appealing, or if my passengers were too enchanted listening to the words of Gemma, which is the name we gave to the Navigation System in my Acura. Personally, I don't like the name Gemma because it sounds too flighty and ditzy for my trusty Nav system. Feel free to suggest alternatives, though.

The Wii did prove fun and I will get around to taking some pictures of our Miis so you can all have a great laugh.

Actually, waking up without a shirt isn't so bad, especially when you went to bed without a shirt and you are waking up in the same bed you fell asleep in. I did want to talk a little bit about the dream last night since talking about dreams was one of the reasons I decided to start this blog.

I have always been a very lucid dreamer, but I don't normally have stereotypical dreams. For example, I never had the dream that I was naked in front of my class, but last night I had one that sort of came close. From what I remember, I was back home in Horseheads, and for some reason, I found myself at the Town Hall. I was at the police station, which I had never seen, but my mind fashioned it to look like the Neptune Sheriff's office. I didn't meet up with Deputy Sachs, Sheriff Lamb, or Keith Mars. Instead, I was face to face with one of the ladies from my church back home. I said "I am here for my appointment" and she said "Why are you naked?". I suddenly realized that I had no clothes on. I thought this was very strange, and then I woke up.

WTF?

While working out at 24 Hour Fitness this morning, I bumped into a girl wearing a Yale t-shirt. I was wearing my Dartmouth t-shirt, and as we looked at each other, it was as if we didn't know what to do. I smiled politely with that "you're probably jaded because you spent four years in New Haven" look, and she smiled with that "you're probably still drunk because you spent four years in Hanover" look. I sure hope she wasn't giving me that "could he possibly be smart AND single" look, because my smile could also translate to "I'm sure YOU would never drag me to go see 13 Going on 30".

Note: Picture cribbed from The Book Los Angeles

I love food. Growing up in a small town, there were not very many interesting restaurants. More often than not, the definition of a good meal was aided by the presence of a salad bar. I'm not trying to say that I am too good for a salad bar, but isn't it nice to live in a place where an establishment called "Hoss's" is not considered fine dining?

One place I would consider fine dining is Bin 8945, a little restaurant in West Hollywood where I joined my friend Ben and our friend Jason the night before they left for London a couple weeks back. We went there on the recommendation of the esteemed S. Irene Virbila, food critic for the LA Times, and she did not disappoint.

We all decided to throw down for the tasting menu at bin 8945, which weighed in at $100, but we convinced ourselves that we needed the wine pairing as well. Earlier that evening, we had the chance to booze it up with the inestimable Michelle Collins at the Standard. You see, the wine was necessary to keep the buzz going from all of those mojitos (the bill for our pool-side fun came out to $7 worth of food and $125 in booze).

Because of all the alcohol, I really can't remember what I ate, I just know that it was amazing and I want to go again. The wait staff was great and there were many items on the menu that were simply too good for words, as if I could have come up with any good ones in my altered state. The owner/manager David Haskell has managed to combine a very hip yet not pretentious vibe.

The appeal of the tasting menu we chose was that it went on until we could not go on. From the appetizers to the final dessert and champagne, we went through fourteen courses and it was one of the best meals I have ever had. At the end, the price of the meal plus the wine was well worth the experience.

My only regret of the evening was that I later joined a friend at Barney's and drank two more beers. Not only did I not need those beers, but it had the unfortunate effect of helping my stomach get rid of my lovely meal later that night. On the bright side, I didn't have any nagging guilt the next morning to burn off six or seven courses on the treadmill.

On the internet, most people know me by my TVgasm moniker, J-Unit. When I started this blog, there were a number of ways that I could go. My middle name, Manga, has always been distinctive, but using it on the internet tends to make people believe you are a fan of anime porn. J-Unit is great, and seems to go with my personality, but if people don't know why I call myself J-Unit, I look like a poseur. Plus, the domain names are taken. I have used other various names on the internet like Remy Martin, Boende (my birthplace), and DrPepper, but eventually decided on Mokers.

In my mother's native language, Joe Moke (prounounced moh-kay) means little Joe. My father and grandfather are named Joe, so the name fit, until I was about 14 or 15 at least. A lot of my family calls me Mokers and the name is catchy and unique and the domain was available, so that is what I will be using here. That being said, I still answer to J-Unit, JoJo, and of course "Coolest, Smartest, Most Kick-ass Kid on the Planet", so feel free to use whatever you are comfortable.

As for the blog, I am still feeling out what I want to do with it. A short story here (I'm not talking about fan fiction though), a dream interpretation there, perhaps a restaurant review or something. I am already planning a weekend of Wii drunkeness. I haven't told Water Bottle about it yet, but my old friend Fresh Squeezed Orange Juice is sitting next to me and thinks it would be a great idea.

No, my new (for me) car doesn't piss me off, but it has had a rough first couple of weeks of ownership. The first week was great, but then St. Patty's day happened. I woke up the next day to find that somebody had keyed my car - hard core - on both sides AND the trunk. Be warned, if I see anybody keying any car in my neighborhood, I will skip the cops and just put a brick through their car window.

Oh, and by the way, I also received a pticket the night before. I then received a ticket for parking on the wrong side of the street and today was the worst. I got a ticket AND towed because I forgot to place the stupid fucking parking permit on my rearview, meaning they couldn't tell the difference between me and my Acura and all of those kids from the Valley who were driving their parents BMW/Mercedes and decided to come to Hollywood. Normally if I wake up to see that I spent $200 at 1AM, I can at least be happy that the words "rub" or "tug" were involved.

Now please excuse me while I cry myself to sleep.

I'm a huge fan of Syracuse athletics, which confuses a lot of people because I went to Dartmouth. It's actually not that confusing. I love college sports, and although I always supported the Big Green (not the official nickname, but that is a topic for another post), I need a team to support in the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament and Bowl Games. I think the last time Dartmouth enjoyed either of those was 1959 when Dartmouth lost in the first round to West Virginia (a year after they were one win away from the Final Four).

Growing up in upstate New York, there really no other team for you to root for. Your parents loved Syracuse, and Binghamton and Albany weren't anywhere close to having the sorts of athletic programs they sport today. I was too young to remember Joe Morris play and don't remember the heartbreak of Keith Smart's shot, but I haven't missed many moments since the days of Marvin Graves and Billy Owens.

As I sit here watching Syracuse get thumped in the NIT, upset that they shouldn't have even been in the NIT (Stanford, are you kidding me?), I remember the better teams. The basketball team competes at our near the top of the Big East, so there is no worry there. Besides, Duke and Notre Dame lost in the first round and UConn didn't make it, so I won't get too upset.

The football team is another story, but I usually don't start crying about their season until August.

UPDATE: As I wrote this, Syracuse put on a fierce comeback from 18 points down to cut the lead to one. It may seem meaningless, but I like the way this team fought back on the road. They could have easily given up since most of them would rather be playing for the championship or on spring break, but they played hard, which says good things about the players and the coaches at the program.

I do not own anything made by Prada, not that I don't think it is a fine brand worthy of many patrons. Perhaps I am too cheap or have no sense of style (probably both), but neither would explain why I have this Prada bag. Well, it came from my optometrist, La Optometrique in West Hollywood. I can only imagine why they have extra Prada bags lying around, but I was lucky enough to walk away with one compliments of my purchase of four boxes of Acuvue Advance.

I guess I shouldn't complain about getting my lenses in a Prada bag, but it was clearly the smallest Prada bag ever, and therefore would not impress anybody should I be seen carrying it around. Taking one look at it, people might assume I walked into Prada and bought a postcard, just so I could be seen with a fancy bag.

So, I decided to start up my own blog. No, it will not be about television. Yes, it will be about other random things.