KGB Pizza

Ever go into one of those businesses that looks fine on the outside but on closer inspection, you maybe start to notice some things? There's a new pizza place near where I work, and I was really happy given the odd schedule I keep to find that there might be more food available in the area (I can only eat so much tom yum goong soup). It looks non-descript enough, with a sort of Italian color scheme in homage to the motherland of pizza (mama mia!) and there are pizza boxes stacked everywhere and employees standing at attention, there's just one thing missing. When I run in out of the cold trying to grab a quick meal in between shifts, they never, ever have any f***ing pizza. Usually there's a long line of grumpy looking customers waiting with ever decreasing patience and an empty rack where they tell me they sell pizza by the slice, and some cheerful employee telling me if I just wait a bit they'll cook more pizza, but I can't help but wonder how long that's going to take with 20 people in line ahead of me.

But then as I'm ready to turn on my heel in frustration and look for another restaurant, I start noticing some things. Like despite being so busy they're completely sold out of pizza, the glass and aluminum rack for the slice line is so clean it's gleaming in the sunlight, not a drop of pizza grease or a crumb to be seen. It's possible they've got sucha JIT supply chain of pizza that every slice is cut and served within seconds of the pizza coming out of the oven, or maybe that they're just so far behind that their hungry walk-in customers devour whatever comes out of the oven, snapping like jackals. I could see that at lunchtime, but day after day business in the slice line has never slowed down enough to put a single pizza in the rack?

Amstelbooij's New York to-do list

1. Pop over to the Meadowlands to pick up tickets to see the New York Jets.
2. Head out to Shea to get my tickets for the New York Mets
3. Cruise by Atlantic Yards and think about getting tickets for the New York Nets
4. Slip down to the OTB and place some New York bets
5. Spend my winnings at a tapas restaurant ordering some New York croqettes
6. Remember to pass by BofA and pay my New York debts
7. Stop by Arthur Ashe on the way to play some New York sets (better loosen the nets so I'll get some New York lets)
8. Find a French-Canadian bar and watch the CFL with my New York Alouettes
9. Walk the beach and see some New York egrets (bring my speedos and get some New York wets)
10. Stop by the pet store and get some New York pets (and get them checked out by New York vets)
11. Reserve a venue and hire a caterer for my New York fetes
12. Got a sore throat, better find a bodega and pick up some New York sucrets
13. Head out to Sunset Park with my Vietnamese buddies and celebrate some New York Tet
14. Visit the Bronx Zoo and feed some New York marmosets
15. Because whatever Amstelbooij wants... New York gets.

Clippers 120-95 Timberwolves

Last night as I was watching the surprisingly listless Wolves get pummeled by the LA Clippers (I know, really?) it was kind of sad to watch the current Wolves be outplayed by a team stocked with former Wolves. I loved watching Sebastian Telfair coming off the bench, undersized but scary quick, but I did remember last night why I loved him, and why we traded him: after faking out a Wolves guard last night so badly he fell down (wow) Telfair couldn't come up with a way to take advantage of that besides an entry pass into the high post (er, wow?). But it got me thinking about this summer's Wolves-Clippers trade, where they traded Sebastian Telfair, Craig Smith, and Mark Madsen to the Clippers for Quentin Richardson, who the Wolves promptly to Miami for Mark Blount.

Trying to see how that trade worked out in the end, I started searching for who the Wolves had moved Blount for or when they'd cut him, and I was shocked to realize he was actually still on the roster. I hadn't noticed him down there through a third of the season, honestly. So they traded Telfair, a quick change of pace point guard; Smith, an undersized yet tough power forward who used quicker feet and crafty moves to create match-up problems; and Madsen, who had really suffered career ending injuries. Blount was theoretically at one time a center with a nice jump shot who could draw out opposing big men and open up room for a dominant low-post player, but really they just traded those guys away for a fresh start and cap room at best.

Cardinals 30-17 Vikings, or the Secret Scandinavian Sense of Doom

Since I got home from work after midnight last night, I got up this morning and watched the end of last night's Timberwolves-Jazz game and to my great shock they rebounded, didn't break down on defense under pressure, weathered their usual third quarter reversal of fortune and hung on for a win. I couldn't help but feel this creeping sense of dread as the Scandinavian blood in my veins insisted that it would be too much to ask to see two Minnesota wins in one day, especially after seeing the suddenly lucky Wolves tied their longest winning streak of the season (that would be one game).

The funny thing is my tivo tried to warn me, crashing during the first half and taking forever to reboot, like it secretly hoped I'd look for another distraction and get lost in Lego Indiana Jones 2. But like Tyr with his hand in the Iron Wolf's mouth, even knowing that the agony to come will rob you of a part of yourself that you'll never get back, you just have to smile and embrace the pain. I hope that crumpling at the first division leader they've met this season isn't a sign of things to come, and I hope the Vikings are better prepared for a potential rematch in the Metrodome (at this point I'd expect the Cowboys or Cardinals to come calling, followed by a trip to New Orleans). So what was so painful?

Amstelbooij's To-Do List for moving to Jersey City

1. Find new anthem to replace “Sweet Home Chicago”. Slim pickings for music fans under 60... perhaps Don Henley's “New York Minute”?
2. Say goodbye to all the guys at Steamworks... I'll miss you most of all, Scarecrow!
3. Get ready to ride The Fairy from Jersey City. Oh yeah, baby... wait, what do you mean that's a boat?
4. Buy new flippers. Boy, the complete lack of aquatic life in the river will be much less distracting when scuba diving!
5. Get a cheaper bicycle with fewer gears, because there's no hills to climb in Jersey unless you hit a landfill.
6. Pick new football team, either the Giants or the Jets, or ummm... the Eagles or something. Fuck it, who's winning this year?
7. Learn the rules of baseball. (All I remember from Chicago baseball is Old Style beer and churros.)
8. Buy tickets on the Chinatown bus to New York... 800 miles for $4. (Or maybe just catch the Ang-Mo Town bus from Singapore.)
9. Get a map of the Pine Barrens so I can find the Jersey Devil and blow him. (Again with the gay jokes? Seriously?)
10. Get ready to live in a well-governed state where the last Governor isn't a punchline. Okay wait, maybe we should live in the City... no that won't help either. Damnit.

It's a stripper, it's a call girl, it's a... naked clothing model?

This is seriously the best ad ever. An escort service offering you the opportunity to take this girl's pants off (for a negotiable fee) would almost certainly get the phone ringing. Or if it's for some sort of nude panty hose or an invisible thong which conveys some benefit oddly unrelated to hiding your privates, I guess they've made their point. But really the reason it's so spectacular is the ad is promoting the f***ing bag.

It's like they're trying to tell us "This bag is so expensive I couldn't afford pants... but it's so groovy I just don't care!" I suppose if the ad was for that hat that might make sense, like it's the hat that keeps you so warm you'll find the rest of your clothes to be overkill. Or maybe it's the bag only used by people with a body so good they want to share it with the world... she's just smirking at you to say "Oh you have a body so good people can't stop staring? Well then where's your stripey bag?"

Sadly somebody already succinctly captured the lunacy of American Apparel advertising much better than I ever could, take a look.

Of Bears and Grizzlies, or "Hey look! My magic rock is working."

I was really glad to see the Vikings deliver such a crushing blow that they were able to once again let the Tardis finish the game. I don't know why there was such a requirement for the Vikings to only have quarterbacks with silly names... Tavaris, Sage, Rosemary, and Favre... perhaps the Superbowl is at Scarborough Fair? Tenuous attempts at humor aside, Vikings-Bears games are always head-scratchers, and after dealing with the crowd at the theater I scrambled over to the Dome just in time to watch the Vikings and Bears exchange turnovers, and the frustration and exaltation and general confusion of the crowd was like a warm, familiar blanket. Plus the company was delightful, but that's another story.

My favorite play of the game has to be the highlight sack in the red zone, although Allen grabbing the interception and forgetting which way to run is a close second. But watching the Williams Wall calmly pushing forward to efficiently collapse the pocket, forcing an alert Cutler to attempt to roll out to the right, only to bump into his own tackle who was giving up ground to Ray Edwards faster than Neville Chamberlain. Cutler scrambled left just as Jared Allen, who recently gave up drinking and immediately developed an addiction to quarterback flesh, broke free and came looking to kill him, and desperately seeking a port in a storm drowned in a sea of purple. While it was Kevin Williams who got his arms around Cutler, it was a sack that belonged to all of them, as they mercilessly closed in from all sides.

I ain't saying nothing, I'm just saying

Dear You Know Who You Are:

You know people are talking, I know you know that. And you have to know I know you know that. And they may not be saying all that, but they are saying things. And they know we're hearing what they're saying, even though they're not saying it to me, they know I'm hearing it all, here and there. It's a classic I know you know they know we know they know it situation, you know? I'm not saying anything about anything to anybody or everybody, and nobody's saying what they're saying to me but it's not like it's not being said... say no more. So like I said, I ain't saying nothing... I'm just saying. You hearing me?

Sincerely,
You Know Who