Monthly Archives: March 2011

Bacon Watch Day 22

In honor of bowling day, I’m bringing out an old-school bacon taunt from my THIS IS SPARE-TA!! teammate. Originally, I didn’t want to share this because I’m embarrassed to admit that I wanted to join. I had planned to do so on the sly and, therefore, no one would judge me because no one would know.

Now the bacon’s outta the box. [new phrase > something about a cat and a bag]

I will not be ashamed. And if my budget allows, I’ll soon be a bacon-of-the-month member.

I’m currently looking at both BAC’N and Bacon Freak. They’re both relatively equal in their line of products. There’s the obvious bacon clubs that just serves up the delicious meat. And there’s also an extra-large dose of novelty bacon products.

Interested in some bacon popcorn? Got it. How about a wallet braided out of raw bacon? It’s there too. Or set the mood with some bacon-scented candles?? All your needs are taken care of… and then some.

PHOTOS: banner from website and a picture of their flavored popcorn.


The start–not the finish–within sight

My pace was infuriatingly slow. My endurance was shot to shit. But, my form, ah blessed form. It was self-correcting.

Yep, it was approved. During my most recent trip to the physical therapist, she finally succumbed to my incessant whining and let me try a light jog on the treadmill. All that after I walked in complaining of pain from my weekend adventures in Vancouver.

I hopped on and started amping up the speed. Once it hit 3 MPH, I panicked. Mild, paralyzing anxiety. What if I can’t do this? What if it still hurts? What if I make it worse? At 3.3 MPH, I could feel my heart pounding. At 3.5 mph, I wanted to cry. At 3.7 mph, I still hadn’t let go of my walk. OK, I’ll start jogging at 3.8, I told myself. Don’t worry. She’s here to help, I reassured myself. Go at whatever pace is comfortable, she said.

I jogged! It was only about 20 seconds and a slow 3.8 pace, but it still counted. I got more relaxed and tried again. Again, only a few seconds. I was focusing on how my foot landed and she was looking at how my form was self-correcting. I was hypervigilant about any twang or pain and she was telling me to focus more on a soft landing.

All in all, a successful 2 minutes on the treadmill. I now have homework. From now until my next trip to therapy, I’m going to try to jog up to five minutes and keep a close watch on my pain threshold.

My ankle still doesn’t feel whole, but at least I can run away (though only from slow-paced assailants) if my life depended on it. It’ll just hurt like hell for a while.

PHOTO: Goal is not to win, not even to finish, but just to make it to the start.

Canadian Bacon Watch Day 19

Sadly, my trip to Vancouver ends today. Even a long weekend seems short in this City of Glass high-rises. Yesterday, apart from having a few mishaps on my bike, I traveled around the sea wall in style. We started at Granville Island and walked through their market. That’s where I found the above: Bacon Tomato Salt! How delicious does that sound?!

I would sprinkle this on everything and anything. As you can see to the right, there’s regular old Bacon Salt too.

Dude! This, right here, is why I can no longer make fun of Canadians.

The city and the food has earned my respect and the fact that they have serious political uprisings has made them cool, even, in my eyes.

What I didn’t get to try last night and what I’m hoping to be able to do today is take a sip of some maple beer. That’ll just cap off a great weekend.

PHOTO: Flavored salt sold at Granville Island’s market in Vancouver.

Pixel this out

I can’t believe I forgot my camera for my first trip to Canada! Tomorrow I’m going to go to the tried-and-true disposable. Today, however, as I walked around downtown, my phone sufficed.

This pixelated Orca by Douglas Coupland is at the Convention Center on the Waterfront. I’m glad it came out because it was the only time my hands were out of my warm pockets long enough to take a photo. Not too shabby, Droid.



Canadian Bacon Watch Day 17

As we like to tell the kids in schools, ‘No excuses.’ I know I’ve been remiss in my duties to update this blog, but life happened. I had other things to do. Some would say that my professional life should take precedence. In this case, I agreed. I put my bacon watch on the back burner (ha… just got that) and now I’m ready to resume it.

And, this is a two-fer. In the spirit of doing more with less or just the good ol’ Canadian sustainability and resourcefulness, this post is both Bacon Watch and a chance to update the masses that I’m IN CANADA! eh?!

Honestly, my first impressions were exceptional. After an annoyingly complicated journey (kicked off by my furious fast-paced packing an hour before I had to leave), I finally arrived in Vancouver. Check out that photo above. I was welcomed by a freaking museum installation, complete with nature calls. Passed by a waterfall with another marvelous touch of Native American art. Breezed through customs. Got my first Canadian passport stamp. And, the kicker, saw Quannicus 🙂

I chose to stay at the most “art-full hotel in Vancouver,” also known as The Listel. So far, so good. But I’ll give my full recommendation at the end of the weekend.

For now, it’s time to get some Canadian bacon! yeah right! Though, it is on every menu I’ve seen since I arrived.

By the way, it’s freezing here. I may be judged for overpacking, but I honestly don’t think I brought enough to deal with this bone-chilling weather. If you’re going to rain, just rain. Otherwise, warm up! It’s spring here too, right?

PHOTO: Soaring art eagle in Vancouver International Airport.

Bacon Watch Day 8

Yesterday I was able to avoid temptation by ‘avoiding’ a healthy meal.

I knew that the salad bar had bacon and in order to avoid that, I opted for the much ‘healthier’ Panda Express. Hell YEAH!!

Today, I stared temptation straight in the face… and stared a little too long. I walked right past the bacon and turned around and walked by again. I was about to put a little bit of the crumbies on top of my salad when I eyed the sprouts and went with those instead.

Success at the salad. bar.. but just barely.

PHOTO: The bacon kicking it next to olives, chopped green bell peppers and god-only-knows what else. I’m coming after you in a minute.

Bacon Watch Day 6

This naturally grows from my Day 5 posting about the Lardon Food Truck. I didn’t really peer into their menu yesterday, and I wasn’t going to snoop around until I had a conversations today about their BACON Tacos. DELISH

Not only do they have the staple breakfast bacon dishes and the taco shell made out of bacon, but there’s also bacon hot sauce, bacon dipping sauce and a bacon nutella brownie. And I thought I already stumbled upon the best-ever brownie recipe!!

One week down. One week strong.

Bacon Watch Day 4 and 5

I forgot to document yesterday’s Bacon Watch. Well, nothing really happened. For once in my life, my selective attention to bacon details came up short…

But today is Sunday, also known as brunch day. If ever there was a day to stay strong it is this day when my senses are being assaulted every way I turn.

As I order my soy latte during my morning Starbucks trip, the smell of bacon in their breakfast sandwiches beat out every other possible aroma.

As I relaxed while watching the Food Network…pancetta meat sauce!! Looked SOOO good!

As I’m checking my work email, I get bombarded by oh-so-supportive people with stuff like this:

That Monday after Easter is going to see a record spike in the sale of bacon in the LA area and market-watchers will have no idea why!

Bacon Watch Day 2

This morning I got the virtual equivalent of the wafting goodness of bacon posted on my Facebook wall—by my bowling buddy of all people! For shame!!

Leave it to That ’70s Show to speak the truth. I feel your pain, Red. I really do!!

mmmmm… so much better than ham!

The Power of One

For three weeks, eight teams have been competing in one-one-one bouts of the most ferocious competition at Mar Vista’s AMF. The Area 15 rookie league has brought out the best and the worst of mankind. Including the liars… those who so obviously are NOT ROOKIES.

This league isn’t for the timid or the weak-hearted. There are 10- 12- 16-pound spheres being chucked at record speed. Blink and you’re dead. Always keep a weather eye. Or if you’re bowling near me, it’s the deceivingly light 8-pounder coming at you.

After two weeks of play, Team 5 came in second place. That’s me! yay!!
[Our official name: This is SPARE-ta!! Our inspiration:  300 get it, get it]

-pause for adulation-

I redeemed myself after that abysmal 38 pins in Game 3 the previous week. I got over my final-game fatigue and posted my highest score to date: 115. My average skyrocketed from a 68 to 75 or 76. I’ll have to double check those stats.

Amazing, but short-lived.

I was back to form this week. But learning some lessons, nonetheless:

1.) Embrace the older bowlers

After the initial week, Tumulty (teammate’s bowling name) and I were paired with another bowler to make a complete three-person team. I initially ho-hummed at the guy because he had spent the first week telling me all the rules of league play. Obviously, I didn’t care. But after I bowled and after Tumulty bowled, I realized that our team’s salvation would rely on him. The older bowlers, the ones who don’t have to order a new bowling shirt and can provide their own ball, bring a level of skill that will obviously benefit a team.
EVIDENCE: Ranked second.

2.) Looking legit doesn’t make you play any better

I already own a pair of bowling shoes and Week 3 was the first time I had my shirt and Tumulty had hers. They’re plain turquoise bowling shirts with our nicknames on them. We look legit-ish. We played terribly. Even the guy who was supposed to be holding up the team wasn’t at peak performance. I didn’t break my 38-pin record, but I came mighty close and was only able to make my target once, in the final frame.

Game 1: 49           Game 2: 53           Game 3: 97

3.) Wishes do come true

Early on in my bowling career, I kept noticing a pattern. The number 1 kept haunting me. It got to be kind of ridiculous. If I didn’t out right throw a gutter ball, I only managed to knock down ONE pin. If I didn’t luck out with a strike, I only left ONE pin.

I decided to call myself The Wonder. Well, actually — The Oneder, straight out of That Thing You Do! That’s the name that’s on my bowling shirt. It was funny.

Only trouble is… it’s now annoyingly accurate. ONEs… everywhere! Damn, self-fulling prophecies!!

PHOTOS: The Oneder’s bowling shirt and shoes.