Two places to avoid...

1) The Standard Rooftop: bad, expensive drinks. Rude bartenders. Mucho attitude and annoying straight people. The view is better from Will Rogers State Park.

2) Hotcakes Bakes: Just trying to support my neighborhood establishments. I went back and the owner was rude to me... how dare I interrupt her baking?

Beer update (finally)

After making about five trips to the brew supply store, I finally I had all the equipment needed to bottle the beer. It made a mess and poor Greg was a good sport. The whole apartment smelled like beer. I gave some away as Christmas presents and have drank quite a few myself. Also, brought some up to Monterey for New Years to enjoy in the cold and rainy weather. There are only 12 left in the closet as they were a hit with everyone that tried it. Next up: a pale ale.

My beer brewing adventure

My friend Mark lent me his brew kit so I decided to give it a try. I went to this really nice brew shop close to our house. I also drove around all of Culver City, Marina del Rey, and Venice Beach looking for a place to fill my propane tank. I finally found a place behind Sony Pictures Studios (to think that Alex Trebek was just on the other side of that wall!). When I was at the grocery store buying ice and water, the cashier asked me what I was doing with all of this stuff. I told him and he made me promise that I would bring him one of my homemade beers. So I made the promise.

Anyway, I brought the six pounds of wheat extract (looks like really thick maple syrup and tastes pretty sweet) to a boil using five gallons of spring water...a LOT of beer. After it was done foaming (called the "hot break") I added the hops (tiny little pellets that smell like herbs and spices). I brought my beer "wort" (another word for this strange concoction) to a rolling boil for about an hour out on the deck. It gurgled and boiled and there was all kinds of strange crap floating around in it. It smelled so good... like sweet cereal... mmmm. I was out there watching it to make sure it did not boil over when our neighbor Kaitlin, was curious about what I was doing... ha ha ha! She was pretty happy to hear I was making beer even though she was hungover from the previous night. Then I cooled it in the kitchen sink by putting ice and cold water around it. It had to be cooled quickly from 200 degrees to 80 degrees and I then strained it into a sanitized bucket. I threw in the yeast when it was at 75 degrees. Next, I put a cover on the bucket along with an airlock that lets the CO2 out slowly (the by-product of the yeast eating all the sugary delight and making the precious alcohol). I put the bucket in the closet of the guest room to ferment for three weeks.

Amazingly, I did not have any huge disasters and it was not as much work as I thought it might be. In three weeks, I will bottle all of the beer and they will have to sit for another two weeks to get conditioned and carbonated. Just in time for new years.

Soon, many of our most famous residents may be gone!

They aren't native. They make a mess and provide no comfort (by means of shade). They do little to remove carbon dioxide from the air and are expensive to maintain. Wow... sounds alarmingly like many of the people who live in this lovely city. Alas: an article here about the slow death of the Southern California palm tree.

Two [almost dead] white dogs and one dead turkey

As you can see, I have been posting quite a bit here lately. It's mostly because I have had the week off and have nothing better to do. Or I actually have a life again and therefore have something to write about.

So let me first confess something. Well, I confess this sin for both Greg and I: we almost killed two cute white dogs. Our good friends Nate and Ryan asked us to housesit for them while they were up in Paso Roblos last weekend. I mean, maybe we tried to kill them because we were jealous that our friends were tasting wine without us, but I can asure you that was not the motive. Greg and I are just a little bit spacey. Somewhere along the line Ryan must have told us when they were getting back. But for some reason, we believed that they would be back on Sunday (when in fact they would be home on Monday afternoon). So we packed up all our stuff and left on Sunday morning. The dogs were home for over 24 hours by themselves. Amazingly, they did not starve to death and they didn't even have accidents in the house (hardly would they be called accidents at this point). Anyway, the dogs are alive and well. I couldn't afford to replace those pure-bred Westies anyway...

So on to Thanksgiving. We went to Sam and Pete's house after spending the morning with Adam. By the way, Adam made our apartment smell wonderful as he baked his little heart out in our kitchen: pumpkin pie and cream puff dessert. It was soooo good! Plus, he made this incredible shrimp dip thing. Of course, Sam and Pete's apartment looked gorgeous. Especially the table (see left).

I volunteered this year to bring the turkey. Yeah, you thought I was vegetarian but I ordered a free-range turkey from the natural foods store down the street. What the hell, I had almost killed two cute white dogs and didn't feel bad about that, so was I really supposed to care about an ugly ass turkey? But seriously, this turkey had a fine life pecking in the open fields before it was killed at the beginning of this week. Pete said there were a few feathers this hand plucked bird (yikes, now that is fresh!). I did try a bit, but I still don't care for meat all that much. I am thankful that the evil corporation of Tyson got none of our money this year.

After dinner we were all stuffed and Adam almost gave birth to his Thanksgiving Dinner Baby (see right). A walk around the block prevented his water from breaking. As you can see from the photo evidence, he was really pregnant looking and super grumpy like a real maternal maniac. Later in the evening, Frank stopped over and we listened to music and played games. Making it's second annual appearance, Greg's snoring filled the room at about 11pm. Below, you see a picture of Greg dealing out the leftovers for everyone to take home. By the way, if anyone wants any of Sam's fluffy buttery mashed potatoes we have about 10 pounds of them in our fridge.

The Hotel D&G

I begin this blog with Greg relaxing in his mint julep mask... oh wait... where is the mask? The title is not what you might be thinking. We did not stay a few nights at a boutique hotel in Beverly Hills that only caters to people who wear overpriced Italian shoes, tight pants, and gallons of cologne. I am talking about how my apartment became the hustling and bustling "Hotel Dan & Greg" of lovely Mar Vista (it sure beats the Jolly Roger Motel down the street). In case you are wondering our past guests included:
Monday - David arrives
Tuesday - Chris arrives
Wednesday - Chris departs, Adam arrives
Thursday - at 4am, David departs; Adam departs
...next Wednesday - parents arrive

All of this comes with a free shuttle service to wherever you please. Trips to downtown are frequent and depart daily. May include side tour of skid-row and tent city* and wrong turns down dark streets/alleys. *Not responsible for any loss of personal belongings.

Okay, for real. I had a great time showing off my lovely city. It was 80 on Monday and I took David to the beach.

On Monday night, we hosted the fabulous "second bi-annual make-your-own-pizza" party.

This picture to the left shows our first guest to arrive: Fran(k). He made a delicious summer squash pizza. In addition to this precious chef, we had a lot of friends here including Ryan and Nate, Chris, Kent, Jeanette and Joel, Tyler, Kaila, Tim, Melissa, Ryan A., and Brian. Greg beat everyone at Mario Kart on Nintendo:
This is an example of one of the pizzas (they did not last long!)... look at these hungry bitches.

Better than Sprinkles?

I just had a cupcake from this new place by our apartment called Hotcakes Bakes. You may or may not know but along with the overpriced frozen yogurt fad (Pinkberry) is the Los Angeles overpriced cupcake fad. Luckily these cupcakes are not as overpriced as the world famous Sprinkles in Beverly Hills. The frosting is not as thick (but still tasty) and the red velvet cake inside is moist and delicious! The lady that runs the shop is french and I will definitely be back to taste the amazing looking baguettes...

Ice Skating and Pumpkin Carving

Me on thin blades traveling on ice was highly entertaining for all observers. People: I can only walk with my feet as the good lord intended! I tip toed around the edge of the rink while Pete and Sam wizzed by at 60 mph. Adam, Ian, and Greg were a bit slower but by no means did they suck compared to me. Marcus refused to go on the ice (this was about the best decision anyone made that evening). We wore our scarves and mittens even though it was a brisk 70 degrees outside. I must say, my favorite part of the evening was getting back on solid ground. Here's a picture of Pete taunting me from the rink...

After our ice capades at Culver Arena, we all went to carve pumpkins. Fran(k) had dirty thoughts as he poked around inside the pumpkin with his hand. He had to excuse himself to have a moment. Kidding! I was a skeptic but his cat pumpkin turned out great. Adam's was by far the scariest. It took him the longest to complete and he is quite the perfectionist when it comes to fruit art. And, Virginia's... well... it was... a sad styrofoam pumpkin. At least her's will be around forever as it will never biodegrade. Mine only lasted for 3 days in the Southern California sun before melting into a pool of water and mold. It was pretty gross. Here is a picture of the pumpkin line-up for 2006 lit up at night for all to enjoy:
Greg made pumpkin seeds (from nine pumpkins!) in the oven the following day.

Being a burglar

So I woke up at 5:30am to go for a 3 mile run. It felt great since I have been super lazy lately. So I ran my little bit and came back to my house and poof... my house key had disappeared from my running pants. So I ran the 3 miles again and looked on the sidewalk for the key since I assumed it fell out. It vanished completely... no sign anywhere for the damn thing. Greg is out of town and I am completely locked out. Oh, and I have to be at work at 7:45am and it is now 6:55am. It takes me 20 minutes to drive to work. Luckily my neighbor was out sweeping his sidewalk and he offered to "spot" me while I climbed onto the roof to let myself in through an open window. The most frightening thing is no one on the busy street even did a double take while my ghetto ass was hanging out of the window while falling half way into our bedroom as the older latino man was coaching me.... Hmmm... It was fun burglarizing my own apartment.

Ring of hair around the toilet

So arrived here on Wednesday night. The Super Shuttle dropped me off and of course I had no keys to get into the place I was subletting. The sky was ominous and it looked like tornadoes were going to drop down at any moment and I actually thought for a brief moment I would be sleeping under the small bridge that leads to the entrance of the apartments. Luckily, someone came and gave me keys.

Let's discuss this apartment. First off, Thursday was a GORGEOUS day. Bright, sunny, birds churping, etc. Okay, at least I have a roof over my head. But I quickly discovered that the inside of this place is a black cavern in the middle of the day. Very few windows... and they don't open. I have to run the air conditioner constantly because it gets stuffy. It's the anti-fresh apartment.

I found dirty dishes in the sink that have been sitting there since the END OF APRIL. There was a huge spider hanging out on one of the plates and unfortunately Greg was not here to take care of it. I had to wash it down into the food disposal while screaming like a girl... After murdering the not-so-itsy bitsy spider, I loaded the dishes into the dishwasher. I turned it on and it started smoking and hissing. Hmmmm.

Then I journeyed into the bathroom where I found the most disgusting hair and piss encrusted toilet. It looked like someone had opened a pubic hair barber shop. I was gagging but managed to deal with the mess. Oh, and there was no shower curtain. And I have no car. And the apartment is nowhere near a Target.

Luckily, I have met some nice people with cars.

LAXative

Thank god I just checked my 8000 pound suitcase. I am usually a pretty light packer... only taking either a bookbag or small duffle bag... but for this little adventure I loaded up a suit case the size of a small home. By the way, I absolutely hate going through those security lines because you have to take off your shoes, put your laptop in one of those gray bins while you walk through the beeping door frame in your socks holding just your ID and a crinkled plane ticket. Then, you have to retrieve all of your stuff while it flies out of the x ray tunnel and put on your shoes as quickly as possible. All while some guy says, "keep moving folks"

So I am sitting here at LAX watching the people sitting around me. On the right, a couple is existing in utter misery... She says, "There must be water in this airport.... I have not seen any fresh fruit". She goes to wipe crumbs off his lap. She says, "Is my cell phone ringing or is that yours?" She gets up to use the restroom. She comes back and says "I think grandpa prays, do you think he prays?" The husband just sits there saying nothing. In front of me, the line for Burger King is a little longer than it should be and there are people in line that should not be breaking their diets. There's a family of eight traveling together to my left. Around me: a few lonely souls as myself sitting around typing on their computers. Maybe they are closing business deals or maybe they are on myspace?

Will I ever wash the suit?

So I leave for Michigan on Wednesday and I am really excited yet sad to leave all of my wonderful friends in Los Angeles for the summer. I am especially going to miss Greg! Ugh... I am going to miss the beach!!! I really do not know how I survived this past week: conducting a lot of 8,9 and 10 year olds in a hot gym in a hot stinky suit (that I still need to dry clean). Then all of the pizza parties at school to celebrate. I need a 4-6 week sabatical from any Pizza Hut smell. Just so you know, that smell lurks in a classroom for a long time...epecially when it is 80 degress outside. ICK!

I am also really going to miss Dawn, my coworker. She has been an absolute insipiration for me in rejuvinating my love and motivation for teaching. Plus, she has been become one of my closest friends in such a short amount of time.

Outback Steakhouse + Burbank = Hell on earth

Well, maybe I am being a little extreme in my assessment of last night's activity. I went to the house of dead cows in the queen of all suburbs (didn't suburban culture originate in the Valley?) and I was only expecting the worst. I was doing this so I could partake in our friend Tim's birthday and hang out with his wonderful friends. How can a vegetarian/wannabe-hipster survive such an outing you may ask? It wasn't as bad as I expected. I got some emergency advice from my vegetarian/real-hipster friend Nick on how to survive in such a mysterious and frightening place. He told me the soup is really good (and homemade) and the salad was amazing. So, even though Outback Steakhouse may not have a vegetarian friendly name, you can find good food there. And Burbank was not as bad as I imagined.

Earlier in the day, Greg and I went to Topanga Canyon State Park (just north of Santa Monica, 20 minutes from our apartment) yesterday and I had a wonderful time with him as always. The weather was perfect: not too cold and not too hot. The scenery and quietness of the place was very refreshing. It was really great because we only saw about ten people for the three hours that we were hiking. We had lunch at the top of this steep hill we climbed up. We were on a mission to find this waterfall on the map (which we never found because we left the map in the car). The trail was poorly marked... arrg. See the photo album for some pictures of the scenery.

Sam, Ian, Tim, Chris, and Melissa came over over for drinks later in the evening. Melissa made pumpkin vodka drinks...oh my, they were good. Sam, Tim, and I decided that in gay heaven they have all-you-can-drink pumpkin vodka milkshakes. We ended the day by pissing off the downstairs neighbor by being too loud at 2 in the morning. She arrived in her nightgown and I arrived in my "I feel so guilty I want to go to bed" place. Greg left an apology note downstairs on her door this morning.

Giving thanks 2005

So I leave this post "untitled" to make an artistic statement. Mostly this has to do with photos I have uploaded. I would hate for words to take away from the art or to place in your mind an idea about what is to come. Anyway, I had a wonderful Thanksgiving with all of my new friends here in Smogville. This holiday is by far my favorite and this year did not change that one bit. Greg and I went to a little get-together over by USC and then drove to Sam and Pete's apartment to have Thanksgiving dinner. Sam and Pete were wonderful hosts, lighting candles, putting on holiday music, and having the table set just right. Oh, and the meal was delicious. It felt like I was having dinner with a close family. The above photo shows how we used Ian and Rachel's apartment to make the rolls and the creamed corn. We left dirty notes on their to-do list in the kitchen. Sam had banned me from his kitchen because I asked too many questions. It was quieter at Ian and Rachel's anyway.

I passed on the flesh but Pete cooked a 20 pound bird for everyone. "Only a half pound per person" says Pete "Martha Stewart" Brophy. That thing looked perfect (see left). Pete will now work at the Butterball hotline. Too bad the job only lasts one day.

We ate....

...and we drank...

...and played Dance, Dance Revolution... Some people were better than others...but I do not judge.

...and we all harmonized to Greg's snoring (someone had a little "too many" martinis). Yeah, it's cliche but I will say it anyway: I am pretty thankful for all of the wonderful people that have come into my life recently and I would not have it any other way.

Attack of the L.A. monster

I am sure that all who read this must think, damn this guy is obsessed with A) bashing L.A. and B) complaining about traffic woes. Well, I must say A) congratulations that you are right and B) congratulations you are right. But before I get into my normal rant about trying to get from point A to point B in this failure of human civilazation and society (Southern California), I must say that when the smog lifts in this city it reveals a beautiful setting. When every square inch of the city you live in is paved with concrete, gated with chain link fences, littered with cigarette butts and fast food wrappers, and polluted with oil stains and nasty brown air, it is difficult to find that "inner sanctum/spirituality/higher power/what-ever-you-call-it. I mean seriously, would it be that hard to plant a few more trees?

So back to my point (whew!)... Today from my classroom I could see both the mountains and the ocean and let me tell you, it was so amazing I got a chill (aesthetic experience anyone?). The ocean was sparkly and details of jagged features of the mountains were incredibly in focus. As my eyes traveled from the distance of the ocean to the east, I noticed it was pretty flat (with a few hills here and there) and then BOOM... the huge mountains off to the distance. Maybe this was really an exercise in gaining my bearings in a city that makes no sense. Or maybe it just takes me a few months to notice stuff like this. I mean, for those of you that know me well, know that I like to look at maps... and it was kind of neat to actually see the topography that the cartographers say is there...

So my title of today's blog really has nothing to do with anything I just wrote. Instead, I wanted to share with you information about a frightening monster that attacks randomly at any hour of the night or day. No it is not the Manhattan Beach Yoga Mom... though they are pretty scary. No this monster is much much much scarier. They survive all year round since the weather is perfect for their habitat. I am talking about the cell-phone-talking-[fake]blondies-who-drive-luxury-convertables. Yes, L.A. is overrun with these monsters who sport boobs so firm and so huge (and so fake) that I am even drawn to the power of their cockeyed display. These boobs are topped with a head so blonde and so made up, they make Bozo the clown look like a normal human being. You see, these cell-phone-talking-[fake]blondies-who-drive-luxury-convertables distract you with their near-white hair (with really dark roots) blowing all over. The pho-mane is usually accentuated with a whip of the head or a brush back with the hand, just like in the beer commercials. But then the attack... you pull up next to them while sitting at a traffic light, the volume of their hideous music overwhelms your ear, and they look at you with their bug-eye sunglasses and fat fake lips. This causes much humilation as they apparently are judging your late 90's compact economy car and the dirt that has accumulated on the aformentioned. If you end up in the same parking lot (which always happens to me), they descend from their BMW one long leg at a time, slam the door shut, brush back with the hair with the hand, lean over to grab the rare alligator skin purse, and clomp off in their high heal boots. The chatter that is being transferred to their cell phone slowly fades the way of the doppler effect. Their strong expensive scent does not. This scent causes an onset of a minor headace. Okay, I guess they really don't attack (I hope I did not scare any small children in the telling of this)... I just hope none live under my bed.

Camels and mustangs

So it took Mexican food to reawaken my senses to the point that I must write about it. I cannot even remember the name of hole in the wall that Dawn and I went to for lunch today but it was heaven on earth mexican food. The place can only seat about 15 people and the line starts to get long at around 11:30. It has a great view of the ocean despite the greasy windows. You know a place is good when all of the Mexican construction workers go there for lunch. The walls are covered in surfboard and skateboard stickers (those annoying things you see pasted on the back of stop signs) and an assortment of random bumper sitckers. One sticker said "California permit to hunt terrorists #091101. Expires 2050" I thought that was kinda scary but there was another one that said "Curran for President" (who's that?) and "Give peace a chance". The walls are really dirty and the people that work behind the counter are pretty sweaty and speak "un poco" English. You can only sit at the counter on broken stools since they have no tables. Okay, the salsa is amazing... I will dream of it tonight. The best part... entire Mexican dinner: 2 enchiladas, rice, beans, and salad for $5.00.

Greg's friend JC is visiting this week and last night we drove out to Fullerton during rush hour (38 mile drive from where we live) to meet Greg for dinner. JC rented a Mustang convertable for her little vacation in Los Angeles. What a great idea... watch the sunset as we pull away from the city enjoying the original American Dream: the California freeway system. Go anywhere, do anything, show off your wheels, where big sunglasses, look fabulous. Just so you know... riding with the top down on a freeway in L.A. is not what the movies make it out to be. It's not "fun" or "glamorous" or "freeing". You see, there are 700,000 other cars and trucks pumping exhaust in your face. So many pounds of fumes did I circulate through my lungs that when JC started to smoke, I enjoyed smelling the organic substance of tobacco smoke. And for the first time in my life, I asked her to please blow more smoke in my face.

Forgotten good things

This weekend, I survived my first earthquake. It was a little one. Yeah, I was a little Dan-dramatic when it happened (imagine that!). I am permanently scarred and freaked out to be leaving in a state that could break from the Union at any moment.

My excitement this weekend was finding Honeycrisp apples in Los Angles. (No, I am not a loser) They only had about 20 total in the Vons across the street from me and I resisted buying them all. Nancy (the cashier) and I had an extended conversation about how these are the best apples in the whole wide world. Better than Fugi, Gala, Braeburn, et al. You bite into them and they have the most heavenly crisp texture with a sweet flavor that is incredible. These only come around once a year. The people behind me in line were clearly annoyed.

I packed one of these beauties in my lunch today. I was day dreaming about it on my way to work today. I could smell it in the mid-morning when I opened up my bag to get a pen out. I took it out at about 10:30 to say "hello" to it. During my lunch break, I ended up at Costco buying the big bags of candy to bribe the kids with... It is an interestingly large place. I will leave it at that. So... I got a frozen yogurt at the food counter outside the Costco. Why???...I don't know. It was 2 pounds of ice cream for $1.35... uggh... it tasted awful, gave me a bad stomach ache, and I threw that bitch away. After that awful experience I was not hungry anymore. I went back to school and taught my last class of the day... On the way home, I smelled something delicious coming from my bag. And I found my little joy tucked in my bag and I enjoyed it quite a bit.

Bloody noses and silent tears

So in my quest to write a personal statement and philosophy of education for my graduate school applications, I have been thinking about what it means to be a teacher. I figured out this is my 6th year of teaching and I have taught the poor black kids of north Minneapolis who ride Metro Transit to school and the rich white kids of Manhattan Beach who get dropped off in Mercedes Benz's (by their nanny). So I have some varying experiences to reflect on. Being the genious that I am, I did not even know what the word "philosophy" means... Okay, I think: Plato... scary college classes... and some stupid paper I cranked out at 4am when I was 19. I am assuming, "a set of values and ideas about __________." (Thank you, dictionary.com) And filling in that blank with the word "education" creates a black hole in my mind. The kind that sucks all inspiration out till all you hear is slurping and you are wondering why the waiter has not been to your table yet. Is a philosophy of education the usual bitching about the administration, being 2 years behind on contract negotiations, or the fact that you have 45 kids in your class? Or is it a state of mind like, "I believe that all children can learn no matter their race, socioeconomic background, or ability level?" Or is it, I put up with the kids because I have the summer off?

In talking with my coworker Dawn after school we discovered there truely is a difference between the lofty philosophy of teaching and the daily reality. Venture into one of my 10 third grade strings classes for a moment. I am teaching in the cafeteria while the custodian is cleaning up after lunch and pushing the tables back into the walls (not a quiet sound, by the way). It smells like sloppy joes. I have 47 3rd graders (set up in four rows of about twelve) and they each have a small crisis. It's the beginning of the year and they really are not into the routine just yet: I can't put on my shoulder rest, my instrument is out of tune, I have to use the bathroom, my sister broke my string, I left my book in the classroom, I need to get a drink, my mom did not drop off my instrument, I can't find my instrument, etc, etc, etc... (at this point I will leave out about ten more etcs here). Oh wait, I forgot to mention, this is after I had to run from teaching another class in another room across the school campus. Spork in my eye!!!

Actually, miracles do happen... Okay, so the learning of the song involved one child quietly crying because the pushing down of the strings hurt his fingers, another child's nose bleeding all over his violin, and a few wafts of kid-fart smell passing by my nose. But with only 8 seconds left before class was over, we played it!! Go me.

That day I came home and took a long nap. The meaning of life can wait till later...

I am so annoyed with all of the honking and beeping and firetruck sirens going past my little apartment building that I want to scream! Yes, I know that I have been guilty of using the horn on a frequent basis... but I never lay into it for more than a nanosecond. Just a little reminder beeper. A little tap on the back. For some reason, the drivers at this particular corner where I reside seem to get a little more steamed than usual. There is no left turn arrow like most civilized cities install. Nope... L.A. is survival of the fittest if you are going to pull out into that intersection to make a left turn. I have heard of people going far out of their way to avoid making a left at all costs... (and there are some that have the mysterious power of getting around all of this sprawling mess of Smogville without EVER MAKING A LEFT!) Also, this intersection is devoid of all human life except for the KFC and a Jack in the Box that throw-up their steady flow of fat drivers coming through the drive thru. So maybe when these ticked off people lay into their horns, they don't feel like they are disturbing anyone except for dead chickens and a few ugly weeds.

Speaking of dead chickens, I was thinking the other day as I pressed garlic and chopped onion, looking out my window at the KFC, that people my age really don't cook all that often. I think that one month I spent almost $450 on going out to eat. I actually had someone tell me that going to Chipotle was cheaper than going grocery shopping because you only have to eat one burrito a day which only costs $4.95. Hmmm, not "mmmmm". I am not saying that people in their late 20's NEVER cook or don't know HOW to cook. But it is clear that we are lazy.

And I guess if we are not taking out or dining in, we clearly prefer Easy Mac or frozen pizza. Pull the plastic off, remove from cardboard, and throw it in the oven; or poke holes in the plastic, lift the flap, and throw it in the microwave. I used to live with a guy that ate pizza every night. Well, maybe he went to McDonald's a few days out of the week.

Actually, I figured out that I can cook a really mean meal in about 25 minutes (a FIRM rule) for about $5-7 for about 4 people. Of course it takes a bit of investing in stuff like garlic, olive oil, and other kitchen staples. And you have to plan in advance... so here is a really really good recipe if you like Indian food. It's called Chana Saag Aloo and it is creamy heaven (serve it with rice):
2 tbsp olive oil
2 potatoes, cut into 1 inch cubes
1 onion, diced
4 cloves garlic
*Sautee the above for about 10 minutes or so then add:
2 tbsp curry powder
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper (more for spicy)
1 tsp salt and pepper
*Stir and let the spices cook for about 2 minutes then add:
1 can of coconut milk
1 can of garbonzo beans
1 tomato chopped
*Simmer for about 10 minutes on med. high (cover to make it cook faster), then add:
Half a bag of frozen chopped spinach
More salt if desired
*Cook for about 2 minutes

When I eat this I make love to it. It's better than chemical laced food or take out.