Wednesday, January 7, 2009
This year was the 5th Annual Buckalew Family Bad Poetry Night, the best Christmas night tradition ever! Unfortunately, I only have a small clip here because the flip camera was on the fritz at that point in the evening. But, trust me, nothing brings family & friends together like Knob Creek, Christmas berets, and reeeeallly bad poetry.
That's why Bad Poetry Night is today's Whoa!Totally.
Here's how it works: during the preceding year, participants collect the very worst poems they can find. Obviously, these are usually culled from the magnificent bad-poetry-sharing machine that is the internet. You can't write your own bad poems, but it doesn't really matter whether the poem you find was intended to be bad or not. We're all New Critics; authorial intention goes right out the window. That said, finding a poem that's prime material for Bad Poetry Night is trickier than it sounds. There are innumerable bad poems in the world, but most of them won't fly at BPN. They have to be more than bad; they have to be bad in an entertaining way. Of course, you're free to submit anything you want to bad poetry night, but if it's not funny enough, it'll get cut! By which I mean, it won't be kept in the rotation to be read again next year.
Every year, all our old and new favorites get trotted out again, and some of them have come to be associated with particular participants. For example, only Beau is allowed to read "Ode to Kai" (excepted in video above) and only my cousin Kristen gets to read "MacPh'rs'n's W'mb't !" But, normally, the stack of poems (a mix of old & new with the year and finder written in the top right hand corner) are passed around, and you have to read whatever the next poem in the stack is, which is hilarious, because you get people like my 8 year-old sister reading "God! Oh God! Why have you forsaken my cheeseburger, God?! The unbearble agony!" and then later, when the "blue" hour begins after the children go to bed, you get 80 year-old men reading things like "get out the hoover and suck dat shit up!"
A recipe for hil-ar-i-ty, I assure you.
Imagine your mother reading the following favorite entitled "Nazi's" (five years running and hasn't been cut!) by one of BPN's heroes, "Fritters":
I can feel the Nazi's
Here come the Nazi's
Hear there Feet pounding
Here they Come
Here they come
Can you feel them
Can you hear them
Can you Taste them
Can you see them
Can you smell Them
Here They Come
I share this (the post, that is...not the Nazi's) in the hopes that other families will pick up and continue this awesome holiday tradition. Also, if you're reading this and you think you've got some really good candidates for next year's Bad Poetry Night, shoot 'em my way. I'll attribute them to you (as the finder, not the poet) and let you know whether they make the cut in 2009!
Friday, January 2, 2009
I'm not the world's biggest gamer girl. I think I can count on both hands the video games that have held me in thrall during my lifetime: Tetris, Dig Dug, Super Mario Bros., Zuma, every version of Katamari ever, Viva Pinata, Q-Bert, Frogger, Bioshock, and... ? Nope. That's it. Until now. The latest addition to that list, Machiavelli's Ascent, rounds out an even ten. It's a simple, charming, melodious, and horrifically addictive addition to the Xbox live marketplace.
That's why Machiavelli's Ascent is today's Whoa!Totally.
Adam's much more of a gamer than I am, and he goes through phases where he downloads a lot of free trial games and previews. Occasionally I look up from my computer and watch for a bit, just to see what all the fuss is about. Usually though, it's full of "Yes, my lord!" and "Kaito, you need this amulet to stay alive in the 24th ward!" and "Stay out of Leone turf, asshole!" In other words, not very interesting to me. I don't really like RPGs or FPSs too much; I'm more into arcade and strategy games with great aethetics & immediate competitive goals. Adam describes my video-game preferences as Othello-like: a minute to learn...a lifetime to master.
Anyway, when he loaded up Machiavelli's Ascent? Within 45 secoonds I was telling him to move over on the couch & give me the controller. 45 minutes later I was whoopping & hollering in encouragement and comiseration as we tried to best one another's scores.
It's so ridiculously simple, it's hard to believe how fun and addictive it is. The premise is this: you're a jellyfish on the ocean floor who wants to get to the surface. You press A to initiate your ascent, and use your right and left triggers to swim in either direction, but you can only keep moving upwards as long as you keep running into nutrient bubbles and starfish and stuff. When you're in the flow of things, there's nothing more satisfying: "chaining collisions to build up aurally stimulating combos." But if your jellyfish falls to the bottom of the screen without finding a bubble to propel him up again? Down, down, down he goes...back to the ocean floor to try again. Poor jellyfish! The saddest part is that no matter how hard he swims he will never ever reach the ocean's surface. :(
If you have a 360, check out the free trial of the game then buy it: it's only $5...and your girlfriend will like it.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
I rediscovered the wonders of the disappearing phenomenon that is chopped steak (or, "chop't" steak) this afternoon when Adam & I decided to go to Threadgill's for New Year's day lunch. Despite my initial qualms when ordering, the chop't steak turned out to be a panacea for all my hangover-related ills. Hallelujah! ...or maybe that was the Tito's bloody mary working its magic...
In any case, the steak (which I paired with fried okra and black-eyed peas for luck) was wickedly delicious! That's why chopped steak is my New Year's Day whoa!totally.
The chopped steak is one of those weird 50s foods (like Van Camp's Beanee Weenees, or carrot slaw with raisins) that time unfortunately forgot. I don't think the chopped steak is purely regional, but it does seem to hold more sway in Texas because of its connection with the famous Nighthawk Diners. If you were a kid or a bachelor living in Texas in the mid-60s through the mid-80s, the "steak n' taters" t.v. dinner pictured above (sans cooking tray) is probably intimately familiar to you. And don't you miss it? It doesn't look very appetizing, but boy did it hit the spot! Nothing else tastes quite like it.
On Threadgill's menu the desciption of the steak isn't much more than a tribute to the Night Hawk/Frisco Shop's Top Chop't Steak. Which is weird considering the Frisco Shop is right down the street. Shouldn't it be considered competition? Wouldn't Threadgill's attempt to stake a claim (heh heh) in the chopped steak territory instead of advertising for their nearest competitor? Perhaps they were losing business from people who just really wanted Night Hawk chopped steak, but I'm guessing that both restaurants feel pretty solid in their historic-Austin-institution status (Threadgill's opened in 1933, Nighthawk in 1932) that they're not overly worried about being generous with one another.
Once I was reacquainted with the steak, I remembered that it used to be everywhere. It was a diner staple: chopped steak, a scoop of cottage cheese in a lettuce leaf with a maraschino cherry on top, and a peach half. Um, yum much? What do you say, people: holla if you wanna bring back the chop't steak!