Whilst shopping for some oh-so-tasty kiwis at a fancy Publix, I was started to hear sounds of thunder and flashing lights. First off, I don't recall ever having doing any type of hallucinogenic drugs, so it was real. So, lo and behold, this fake storm was the result of some genius at Publix who felt that by doing so, the consumer would be tempted to buy more produce. I asked the stocker why they did that, and he gave me the "what the fuck do I know, I'm getting paid to make sure the green and red peppers don't mix." Now, I don't have a marketing degree, but does thunderstorms = vegetables? And is the cost of these special effects driving up the price of the zucchini? I'll be damned if my veggies cost more b/c it has to cover some Bose speakers and a strobe light. Then, as I walked by the dairy section, it mooed at me. I'm glad that it mooed, because if it meowed, I'd be curious as to where the milk came from. Maybe I'm not used to this big city living, but when I shop, I'd rather hear a Muzak version of Gwen Stefani rather than feel like I'm stuck in the middle of some weird psychological experience. I guess by hearing a moo, the consumer's logic is "wait, mooing...cows...FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I NEED MILK!" But thank you Publix, by hearing moos and thunderstorms, you are making me feel like a secure consumer. I know that it's cow milk I'm drinking and vegetables grown in a field.

Posted by Victor at 9:54 PM | Permalink | Comments

Posted by Victor at 12:07 AM | Permalink | Comments

On Monday, our firm had the Holiday Party at Spice. I won't get into the shenanigoats that occurred, but the boss gave a nice roast. When he got to me? "I'd like to welcome Victor and thank him for all his hard work. He's learned SO much English this year." Well, I guess that's better than ragging on me for being from Alabama. Anywho, this restaurant is one of those fancy pants places where normally if I were to walk in, I'd hear "Sir" followed by "Would you please leave without a fuss right now?" I've never claimed to be classy, although I have eaten Popeye's in a suit. And yes, I did wear a top hat and wield a cane during Homecoming. I have told many hippies to get a job, but, it's all a lie. My cane and tophat would get only so far before I open my mouth and say words such as "reckon", "diddly-poo" and "fixin' to". But, when I become rich and famous, I guess I'm going to need to take one of those "How to act rich" classes. Here's a sampling of the menu from Spice.

* barded loin of pork - 22
Serrano ham, spinach & pecorino spaetzle, cippolini onions, cumin broth
* braised beef brisket cannellonis - 21
creamed swiss chard, bacon mousse
* grilled tenderloin of beef - 28
potato & onion gratin, haricot verts, truffle jus
* "veal piccata" pan fried breast of veal - 20
hand-made orecchiette, onions, capers, tomatoes, dijon
* "duck & dumplings" - 22
duck confit, brussels sprouts, cippolini onions, bread dumplings
* slow roasted lamb loin & "best end of lamb" - 26
onion pudding, golden raisins

I won't even begin to tell you what I don't understand. I thought it said "bearded loin of pork" initially, and I was very confused. Words like cannellonis, chard, haricot, and spaetzle boggle my mind and make me think of France. I'm reminded of that great Trick Daddy and his video for "I'm A Thug". He's trying to impress some hottie and her snooty dad in a fancy restaurant. What's he do? Yep, orders up some fried chicken and chows down. Trick Daddy, you my hero.

Posted by Victor at 8:47 PM | Permalink | Comments

As the new year approaches, we are all reminded that another election season is rolling around. I have been involved with a few campaigns, most notably my failed election for Mayor of Buffet City. Apparently the citizens of the fine gourmet Chinese buffet did not like my platform of "Not All You Can Eat, Kids Are Starving In Africa." Rational thinking, reasonable future was NOT being served. Well, despite such defeats, I feel there is an even more important election coming up.

Now, Mr. or Mrs. American citizen, you may be asking "Why vote? Everything seems fine." Well, I assure you, things are absolutely not. Insidious forces (Big Corporation) has gotten the better of McDonaldland. After our current special-interest driven Mayor "burgled" the last election, quiet policy decisions have torn this city apart. Allowing the illegal immigration of breakfast burritos. "French" fries. Not allowing caramel and vanilla ice cream to be in the same cup. REAL chicken in chicken McNuggets? Things have gotten so bad that even the iron rule of the Burger King seems palpable. This is just the beginning, friends. So, for the sake of our children, please vote. Admittedly, when McCheese was in power, we had problems (ArchDeluxe-gate and Prop 36 to deport the Fry Guys) He's gotten over the crack problem ("Bitch set me up!"). Remember, the alternative?

Posted by Victor at 2:43 PM | Permalink | Comments

Keeping this entry short and sweet, I will just list a few of the events of the week that will hopefully end up with me pulling a Homer. I'd like to blame all the following events on stress and being tired, and not my lack of intelligence.

1) Laugh all you want. I had a hankering for some rice (yeah...yeah...me Chinese), so I got some American rice that requires boiling and not the rice steamer. Not sure how it happened, but I managed to screw up the two hard steps of boiling water and putting rice in. I think my fatal flaw was deciding to lay on the couch and watch the Simpsons. Waking up 30 minutes later doesn't help, either. I tell you what, that rice didn't taste like anything Momma Kang used to make.

2) Club Soda and Tonic Water. Not the same. News to me.

3) Trying to be cheap and washing colored and whites together never works. No matter how hard you wish. Nothing screams masculinity like pink socks.

4) Being late to work because I wore two different shoes. Brown and black look the same when in the dark with fuzzy contacts. "I had to go back home to put on the right shoes" does not make a great excuse.

5) Falling asleep in a coffee shop b/c I don't get aroused by Trusts and Estates.

Posted by Victor at 12:57 PM | Permalink | Comments

Well, seems nary a month has passed, and the masses are already clamoring about the posts lacking humor and instead being a whine-fest. Fine. A writer should know when his audience bores and wants fresh material. When the coach gives you the heave-ho for the young buck, you just grin and bear it. You want a newer, hipper, blonder host? To quote Frank Constanza...YOU GOT IT!!! Introducing the Ryan Seacrest to my Larry King..... (I know, I couldn't believe it when I saw it on CNN)
Hailing all the way from the Orange State....Misterrrrrr..... Harrrrrrison!!!!

Godzilla v. Kong: THIS BLONDIE HAS SOME THOUGHTS

The city of Tokyo, Japan, as many may know, is the site of the greatest fighting upset of all time. No... I am not talking about James "Buster" Douglas knocking out Mike Tyson and turning him into the absurd lunatic that we all know and love today. I am talking, of course, about King Kong's victory over Godzilla in "King Kong vs. Godzilla" in 1962. The miracle on ice, Red Sox-Yankees, The Battle of Thermopylae, all of these upsets pale in comparison to the absolute and total bull shit that was King Kong's success against the superior giant lizard from the sea. Yes, that's right, King Kong is an outright nancy boy compared to Godzilla. Due only to a US production team and the never-before seen fact that lightning hurts Godzilla and makes King Kong uber-powerful, Kong pulled it out. But really.. can anyone take this seriously? Lets face facts people. Godzilla is the most formidable killing machine ever. His body is made from nuclear cells that regenerate almost instantly. Even if you cut him, he heals faster than two shakes of a lamb's tale, and then boy is he pissed. Did I mention that he shoots nuclear fire from his mouth? Oh I didn't... well he does. He is undaunted as he smashes building after building to rubble and stomps on unwitting tiny Japanese women who can do nothing more than point and shout his name. All the while you can tell by the gleam in their eye that they want to take him as their lover. And yes, Godzilla is a humanitarian. He emerges from the sea only when needed to quell a bigger threat to the citizens of Tokyo. Does anyone here honestly think King Kong would have bothered with fighting, let alone defeated, the likes of Biolante, Mothra, The Cosmic Monster, MECHAGODZILLA? That's right, a freaking robot version of Godzilla. And yet, Godzilla dispatches of these foes more quickly than Michael Moore at the Shoney's breakfast buffet. What does King Kong do? He gets CAPTURED by humans, escapes only to fall in love with a woman 1/4000th his size who will surely break his heart, and is killed by World War I era bi-planes. How? You ask? Because he is so freaking stupid he thinks the best method to flee is to climb the tallest building in town. Godzilla has been pummeled by missiles from MIG jets and F-14s numerous times, only to roar, shoot nuclear fire at them, and continue about his business. So why do I care about this, why now? Because there is a new King Kong movie, of course. I haven't even seen a preview, but I am sure of this, it sucks. I would rather watch a movie about Scott Baio than King Kong. Why? Because I have more respect for Scott Baio. Some chick invited me to see King Kong. I told her sorry toots, I think I'll save the 10 bucks, order a pizza and hang out on the couch, besides Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah is coming on.. Oh and Tim, Godzilla would kick Superman's ass. Just so you know..

Posted by Victor at 11:19 AM | Permalink | Comments

Saw this picture. Read the label. Laughed out loud and recalled why I started drinking scotch in the first place. Don't read too much into it, but if you do, I ain't responsible. HA! And yes, anonymous commenter named a "friend", you are right. I do suck. =) Thanks for pointing it out. But I didn't have to drink to realize that. I tell you what, I can't WAIT for March to roll around. By that time, it won't be freezing and the bar will be a thing of the past. The only thing I have to worry about will be whether it will be Victor Kang, Esquire, or Victor Kang - Will Work For Food. Perhaps the stress and pressure might finally be getting to me. But, oh well, I'll be fine, and if anything, I've got some fine friends who are employed and have an empty couch (hint hint). And for those that are curious? No, I'm not drinking that 100 Pipers scotch (pity those who remember the misfortune of tasting it). I have a job, sir. It's only high-class hobo hooch for me now. It feels good to vent every now and then. Back to the books, a harsh mistress she is.

Posted by Victor at 12:20 AM | Permalink | Comments

So, before the closing from hell, I decided to get a haircut. Not only was it b/c I could tell my boss was giving me the stinkeye, but also because I was reminded of these great lyrics:

Do something about your long, filthy hair
It looks like a rat's nest
Do something about your mullet
Get out the hair clippers, jerk

Get the rat's nest off your head
Get that crazy-ass mother off your skull
Take your ass to the barber shop
Tell the barber that you're sick of looking like an asshole

The mullet is the reason why people hate you
They are sick of looking at your nappy weed-sack
Nobody wants to look at you with that mullet on your head
Why don't you cut that mullet, you numbskull

While I didn't say it to the barber, I did remark to myself that I was tired of looking like an asshole and having people hate me. So, with my freshly cropped hair (its fucking short, and I'm a moron b/c what better time to cut my hair short then when it's freezing), I was feeling all professional. I grabbed a drink after the horrible closing today, and I was reminded about Grayson's super great idea for me to pick up chicks. If I recall correctly, the scheme was to hinge on three elements: 1)wearing a suit and looking important, 2) being able to speak more than one language, and 3)that girls are golddiggers (his words, not mine....girls are wonderful, perfect and never, ever evil or self-serving). The plan would unfold thusly: I would walk in looking bedraggled and tired (not hard). With my professional $5 hair-cut and suit made in a country close to Italy, I would order a scotch and then sigh. Hopefully the bartender would ask, "Tough day?" My response? "Bro, that market is a roller coaster, and I have motion sickness." Of course, there'd have to be a cutie close to the bar to overhear. Then, Grayson's great plan was to have me pretend to answer my phone. I'm not sure if the big boys have cheesy 80's songs as ringtones, but I'm sure Billy Gates has some A-ha on his cell. But, when I pretend to answer my phone, I would then yell something in Chinese for a bit. Of course, the plan wouldn't work if it was a Chinese girl (maybe I'd speak French), but when's the last time I've hit on one? And no, I don't need that book about dating white chicks. Anyways, I'd hang up and remark "Damn Chinese brokers, they're gonna cost me my new wood-panel floors. When I tell them to move 1,000 shares, I mean it!" So, Grayson's logic would be that in one fell swoop, I'd show that I was some high-rolling pimp. Now, I asked him that what happens if this works? My car could MAYBE continue the ruse as I could claim that its my work car so that I don't get the Jaguar dinged up. But, if she were to come over, my place is about as sexy as Janet Reno. No matter how much you dress it up, its still no good. His answer? Just tell her your place is getting refitted with marble tiles and that you are renting your butler's home for now. Damn it, Grayson. You're a freaking genius. This man is going to be a Senator from Alabama one day, and I'll be there shopping pictures of him in dress to the Birmingham News. And for those that are wondering? No, I didn't try the plan. But if I get drunk and try to use it on one of y'all ladies, try to act surprised and let me down gently.

Posted by Victor at 10:50 PM | Permalink | Comments

So, this weekend, I had my very own little after-school special. You know those ones where the titles were like "The Boy Who Drank Too Much" or "Please Don't Hit Me, Mom". I went to a lesbian bar. Not on purpose, but, it was an experience. Now, before I sound like some ignant redneck from Ala-bammer, I will preface my comments by saying that I have not had alot of contact with lesbians other than Cinemax and from what Tim tell's me. ("They will bite your tallywhacker off!") I was supposed to meet the Steve Perry Fan Club for trivia at a bar in Decatur called Birdi's. I was the first one there, and I walked in. Lo and behold, I saw only women, and some who kind of looked like guys, but I wasn't sure. It wasn't spider-sense per se, but I could feel something amiss. Like when you're wearing a Bama hat and stumble into some redneck Auburn bar. It still hadn't dawned on me what was going on until I went outside to wait, and a (wo)man remarked to me that (s)he would love to "take a bite" out of that chick's ass. So I was like, yeah, she's pretty hot. Yes, as those parentheses show, my gay-dar is horrible. I thought it was a guy the whole time. So, finally I realized that Birdi's was a lesbian bar. Of course, my image of lesbians was terribly misguided. There were no pillow fights. No sexy showers. And I sure didn't witness any tickling. But, just like any good After-School Special, I came to my senses. My stereotypes were misguided and I was no better than the Billy Joe Dean's who ask if I know karate or if "yer wimmen got thems sideways vaginnys". (No and Sometimes). As some violins and flutes played in my head, I heard Alan Thicke's voice tell me that "Son, they are people, no different than you and me." I was further informed that it was called a "Decatur kind of bar." Say the word Decatur out loud. Dec-atur. Dick-Hater. So, for both stints of living in Atlanta, I have lived in Midtown, Atlanta's gay center, and now Decatur, where my johnson is hated. And I don't know why, because Franklin never hurt nobody.

Posted by Victor at 3:19 PM | Permalink | Comments

As you may or may not know, Steve Perry is the ex-lead singer of Journey, one of the greatest bands around. Of course, his greatest song would have to be "Don't Stop Believin'". If you've never heard it, shame on you. Go download it somewhere, and try to tell me you that when you listened to it, you didn't have a fist in the air and sprout a mullet. Well, when the ChiSox used that as their theme for their run to the World Series (Braves in 06, for sure), Mr. Perry, the genius that he is, said, well I'm from San Fran and have no connection to Chicago, but hell, I'll be a Sox fan now! And, to boot, he has a new CD coming out. Soooo. Here are some links to him singing with some Sox players. Make sure you aren't drinking anything b/c it will shoot out your nose. I guarantee it. Trust me. Coke going through my nose, despite the joy of seeing Steve sing, still really, really sucked.

Rock out with Steve
Enter the feed room and then click on sports in the upper left hand corner. Then click "more" a couple of times and its called "Journey rally"

More sing along fun
Feel free to sing along....I sure as hell did.

And some pics of Steve just for the hell of it

Posted by Victor at 7:30 AM | Permalink | Comments