Nerd Marloue Words: Metro-Grub

Metro-Grub
- restaurant/verb

1. A downtown restaurant, particularly one with a trendy or hip style to it. 

- distinguishing marks

Most Metro-Grub places will turn in to a bar late at night, and tend to have a wide assortment of food. A sure fire way to know that you'reMetro-Grubbing is the interesting choice of furniture(Such as a couch in the middle of a restaurant) and the abundance of feta.  If the waiter asks what kind of bread you want your sandwich on and then lists "Pita" "Wrap" and "Panini" as your choices, then there's a good chance you're at a Metro-Grub restaurant.

[ Origin: My coworker Marloue used the word once to describe Switch, a new downtown eatery. ]

- usage
1. I'm thinking something light today. Wanna Metro-Grub?

- examples
1. Switch
2. Zoë's Kitchen
3. Fez
4. Maizie’s Café & Bistro
5. Delux Burger

Par For the Course

A few days ago I had lunch at ZPizza.  Z is a cool little Metro Grub Pizza joint that defies the MG stereotype by actually being priced somewhere in the affordable range.  The mile distance from my office to Z is taken up by the "historic" Willo district of Phoenix, which is one of the few green and peaceful areas in the city.  I generally grab the iPod and walk the distance on a day where the temperature is less than scorching.  

My head was still back at the office as I ordered two slices of the daily special, but I quickly snapped back to the present after paying.  As I turned around I realized there was an exceptionally cute girl behind me.  She'd been there for a while, and I had surprisingly been too lost in my thoughts to get nervous and do something stupid.

I stepped outside for a moment to check for table availability on the patio and then back in after spotting the perfect seat.  As I walked over to the bar where they set the orders I noticed the cute girl was standing over two slices of the daily special, patting them down with a napkin to remove any excess grease on the top.  Since she had ordered after I did, it seemed likely that it was actually my pizza she was patting down like a TSA agent, but I was too busy wondering if we'd serve ZPizza at our wedding to be bothered.  It would all be "our" pizza once we were married. 

The girl looked up at me for a moment as if to say, "What are you staring at?" to which I just nodded.

"Catherine!" a Z employee announced as she set another plate with two slices of the delicious Italian pizza on the bar.

The cute girl, somewhat surprised, stared at the new plate for a moment.  She then looked at me, and then back at the plate her left hand still clutched.  I nodded again.

"Um... do you just want to take that one?" she asked, with a little bit of demand in her voice as she motioned to the new plate.

"I don't know.  That one looks like it has less grease" I deadpanned and pointed at the other.

"Well... " she sighed with frustration, "You can have it if you want."

I gave up and went back outside to eat my lunch.  As I walked past on my way back to the office I considered asking her how my pizza was, but decided to just drop it.

Jesse B and The Case of the Missing Umbrella(Part 1)

There comes a time in every P.I.'s life when he ends up his own client.  My pal Murray used to say, "Better a gumshoe who's his own client than a heart surgeon".  Of course that was before Murray went to jail.  A leggy blond with a huge rack hitting on a scrawny kid from Sausalito is about as out of place as Michael Phelps at a public pool wearing a pair of orange floaties, but Murray always did think with his lower brain.  Until the cops fished her out, the blond spent the better part of a week at the bottom of the East River with a knife in her back, a gag in her mouth, and Murray's finger prints all over her like Amy Winehouse at a free meth handout.  Murray?  Well, Murray ended up getting a double life sentence despite the fact that it was an obvious set up.

The point is, when it's your ass on the line, when push comes to shove, that's when the real detectives are separated from the kids with the Fisher Price action detective play set. It's the time when the Holmes of the world show their stuff.  The Columbos.  The Magnums.

My first self client case wasn't anything quite so serious as a murder rap, but that didn't make it any easier. Any sleuth worth his salt will tell you that even the smallest mystery carries with it a certain urgency. Every folder you place in the U filing cabinet under "Unsolved" is reminder of your own failings. They weigh you down. They keep you up at night.  

This particular case revolved around a unique missing item, or I should say set of missing items.  Umbrellas in fact, but not just any umbrellas. These were those special white umbrellas they use when you go to a professional photog. 

You see, in my younger days my associate Adam O and I had fancied ourselves pioneers in the independent movie market. We were young and full of dreams. It was a time of innocence, before the real world had chewed me up and spit me out a hardened man.  Back then, every day was a new adventure and the world was my oyster.  I don't see Adam much anymore.  Not like the old days anyhow.  He was seduced by a frisky frau from Berlin and has since taken up residency across the pond.

In our youth we'd saved and bought some doodads that we were sure would assist us on our way to our directorial destiny. Adam had a fancy Japanese made microphone, and I had purchased a professional lighting kit complete with umbrellas.

I had all but forgotten that lighting kit until an August afternoon many years later I had need of it once again.  With the economy in a downturn and most people turning to Google for their answers, work had been slow.  I found myself working key grip on the set of a motion picture titled, "How to Build a Chair". It was a small job, but it filled the space in between cases.  Everything was ready to shoot except for the lights.  The fluorescent bulbs of the set just weren't cutting the havarti, and we need something a little better.  Something a little more professional.

When You Were Young

Yeah yeah, sorry I've been slow to post.  I'm still working on it, but in the mean time enjoy these photos.

I recently went through and scanned some old yearbook photos and thought I'd share.

Me in 1980.

Me in 1970. I look a little like Austin Powers here.

1968. I was actually up for the part of Davey Jones in the Monkees

1952. Before I won the big drag race against Kiniki.

1984

You can see the full set here

Go to www.yearbookyourself.com and make your own. Send me the pics!

Good Lines for the First Date

I recently went on a date with a girl. The date itself didn't go that well. Generally speaking people are a little reserved when getting to know someone, but as the date mostly seemed like a bust my inner jackass came out.

The girl had mentioned that she had tried dating a girl in college, but it wasn't for her.

As we walked back to my car I used the remote to unlock the doors.

"Wow, that has really good range" she commented.
"Oh, well it's RF." I explained to a blank stare. "You know? RF? Radio Frequency"
"Oh."
I wasn't sure if "oh" meant she got it or not so I decided to explain further, "Yeah, the car can send it a message if the alarm goes off. It goes both ways, kind of like you back in college."

Rose Gets Married

I've been on a bit of a hiatus lately, but today I realized that I had 0 posts in September, and that's just not cricket. So with that in mind I decided to buckle down and deliver a solid D- effort.

Back in late July I flew to Chicago to attend the wedding of Rose and Zach. I've known Rose since I was 20, and while we've had our ups and downs over the years, she's one of my best friends in the world. Zach I've only known for a few years, but if Rose hadn't snatched him up I'd have considered switching teams and making a move. I'm just saying Zach rocks.

The weekend itself was absolutely amazing. It was great to hang out with friends and spend some time relaxing. It was a little weird feeling like the 5th bridesmaid/gay best friend(Especially considering I'm straight), but I got over it quickly.

As there was no major, embarrassing story for the weekend the highlights will be presented in list format, partially because I'm lazy, partially because Rose loves lists.

• I ended up sharing a hotel room with Sara which was awesome. Sara's pretty low key and easy to get along with. While the rest of the couples were running around doing couple-y type things I pretended Sara and I were dating. She may have been offended or put off, but much like my normal girlfriends, I didn't care what she thought. This is how she looked when she found out I'd be her roommate:

• Wedding Bingo was actually a big hit. Rose ended up winning by bingo-ing first, but I feel like she may have stacked the deck a little. To be fair, Rose is a little like a Wookie in that sense and it's usually best just to let her win. I did however manage to come close to a black out.

• I'm sort of amazing in a suit.

• I kissed the bride before the groom did(Don't tell Zach)

• There were a few spelling snafu's during the pre-wedding which many thought would push Rose over the edge.
  During the reception a few of us were outside by the marquee when I commented, "Funny. The Ampersand is backwards"
  "The case is open. You could, you know, fix it if it's bothering you so much" someone teased.
  "I could... fix it"
  

Fixed:

• We invented another new game called "Wedding Photo Bomb". The objective of this game is to get yourself in to as many pictures as you can that you're not supposed to be in. You'd have known that if you'd done your homework. While I'd like to say that I did well in this game, it's obvious to anyone that Anthony won hands down. You can view the entire set here, but here are a few to give you a good idea of how the game is played:

The lovely Bride and Groom(And Anthony)

A very cute couple dancing(And Anthony)

Rose And I(And Anthony)

And last but not least, Rose. (And Andy, her brother)

• By the end of the weekend I had no less than 4 new man crushes, 2 new games, and almost 1000 wedding pictures(Rose had asked us to take as many pictures as possible since she didn't have a professional photographer). Feel free to browse the collection here.

Rant of the Day: Twitter

In the past few months I've had numerous run ins with the website twitter.com ranging from stalkingreading people's twitter page to being at a bar with a person who was oblivious to their surroundings because they were too busy "twittering" to people questioning why I wasn't "on it".

For those who don't know, Twitter is the Cousin Oliver to the Facebook Wall and Myspace status. It's the new hotness. It's fresh. All the cool kids are doing it, and to be quite honest, I just don't get it. If I understand it correctly(And I'm quite certain that I don't), the concept behind twitter is that you update it very regularly and write what you're doing. This process is known as "Micro-Blogging".

Each "Tweet" is limited to 140 characters and can be done via text messaging. Now don't get me wrong. I support any form of messaging that doesn't involve me actually having to talk to your dumb ass on the phone, but have we hit the point in our society where we need to know what everyone else is doing at every moment of the day? I promise you that you don't want to know what I'm doing/thinking all the time. My twitter would quickly turn in to an update of my regularity and obscure reference to things that I'm not even sure that I care about.

I guess my question is, "At what point did you become so important that anyone gives a crap what you're doing right now?". I can't convince half the people I know to read the blog that I write once a week, why would they check something I update every hour?

But here's the thing. I've been wrong before. For the sole purpose of this blog entry I invented a phone that lets me call people from the past and here's what I found.

On the subject of myspace, Jesse from early 2005 had this to say:

Myspace? Christ. I'd sign up, but I just checked and it turns out that I'm not 15, and my parents actually do understand me.

I'm just glad someone created a place so that all the emo kids could get together and express their uniqueness and individuality with the exact same crappy 5 themes that everyone else has.

"Wow, you like that band too?!? That's so crazy. I'd go to their concert tonight, but I'm busy setting up a tripod to take profile pictures from the ceiling so it hides my double chin and fat ass."

If I ever sign up for that crap, you have my permission to kick me square in the junk.

On the subject of blogging, Jesse from 2006 had this to say:

Blogging? There are 3 blogs in the entire world.
1) Some hack's crappy photos over and over again.
2) A dork writing about technology that nobody will ever read. Nobody cares about your feelings on USB versus the new 1394 spec, jackass.
3) Stories about someone's family that I've never met.

In the rare case that you find something that's a real written piece, it's generally just someone who finished up that English degree a few years ago and is still clinging to the idea of being a writer while he teaches Sophmore English at a High School. Stop pretending man. There's nothing wrong with being a teacher, but stop being a pretentious ass and selling yourself as a writer. You don't have a couple of things "in the works", and 2 comments(One from your mom) doesn't mean that one of your "pieces" is "in discussion".

If I ever write a blog, it had better be because I lost a bet or something.

I realized two things from my conversations.
A) Old Jesse is sort of an angry jackass
B) The phone had to be destroyed. It could be an instrument of evil if it fell in to the wrong hands.

Anyhow, feel free to follow my twitter. I don't plan on actually using it, but the same could have been said for my myspace, my flickr, my youtube, and my blog.

http://twitter.com/jessebearden