Date Night - A Blog by Mari: Like Jason DeRulo, I’m goin’ solo.

Next week, I will be employed after many years as an unemployed student. I decided I should take advantage of my last week of sorta-freedom, so I ventured off into Ojai for a night of camping. Alone.

I’ve never camped alone–

Rod Steele said, “Yeah, have fun out there. You know who camps? Dudes. Dudes who like to drink and screw. They’re going to see you and say, ‘yeah, this chick likes to party,’ then they’re going to come to your site, invite you over for a drink, and you’re going to have some crazy threesome-story for your next blog.”

Rod’s a screenwriter with a vivid imagination.

In my trunk was a tent, a sleeping bag, and water. Also, a sandwich and some brownies that were on Special at Vons.

I drove up the winding 33 North into the Los Padres to Wheeler Gorge Campgrounds. When I got there, I coasted around, and I must admit I saw some pretty ghetto set ups–the kind of stuff Hollywood loves to put in horror movies so we shit our pants and choose never to go into the wilderness again–an old chevy, a beat-up camper trailer, an old man with a dirty ball cap and red solo cup who stared as my car passed him; however, I didn’t let anything scare me. Really. How often do we hear of campers getting mutilated at their camp sites? Most people who get in trouble either provoke it, or they’re asking for it (i.e. just generally being a dumbass).

I came to the last few camp spaces and, as the fates would have it, settled on spot number 69. If you’re ever there, you will agree it’s probably one of the nicer spots.

When I was a kid, we went camping at Salton Sea and my sister had to use the restrooms which were, at the time, port-o-potties. I didn’t go inside with her, but I watched her go in, heard her scream, and watched her run out with her pants down and a small group of bees following her. Unfortunately, that has scarred me and now I must do what everyone hates to do: look inside the pit of disgust before I can relieve myself.

The restrooms here looked like average public restrooms, but the toilet was nothing more than a Kia made to look like a Mercedes Benz–it looked like a real toilet, but but was just a glorified port-o-pot. When I looked into the rim I saw a bottomless black pit.

Great. Probably weren’t any bees down there, but the hand of the devil might reach up from the bowels of darkness and try to snatch at my butt when I bent over.

I took care of my business quickly and returned to my campsite.

My mom bought my tent for me a few years ago when I was apartment hunting, because I said I wanted to camp at the beach while I hunted, but I found a place immediately so I had now opened it till now.

When it was all set up, I realized it was a junior sized tent.

I lay my sleeping bag diagonally and crawled inside to see how I would fit. My head was crunched into one corner and my feet were smooshed into the opposite corner.

As I was messing with the sleeping bag, the same old man with the dirty-red ball cap and solo cup came up from the creek. What the hell was he doing down there? I shook my mind free of ditched bodies and stacked skulls. He said hello and tipped his ball cap at me, then he asked how long I was staying, and I told him one night. I wanted to be friendly enough to not seem like a stuck-up bitch, but I didn’t want to be stripper-trying-to-sell-a-lap dance friendly. He told me he was staying for two nights, and that the grounds were beautiful at night, and there is no other place he would rather be.

He tipped his hat again and departed. I went back to my car and sat there for a short time, wondering whether I should just tear the tent down, pack it all up, and drive home. Thanks for letting me watch Unsolved Mysteries and FBI’s most wanted when I was a kid, Mom. Appreciate that.

Truth was, the old man made me feel safer. It was my vivid imagination that needed to be bitch slapped.

I decided to try and enjoy the daylight while it lasted, so I got out of the car and went to the picnic table with my books. I sat and listened to the peaceful brook, the wind blowing through, the birds chirping, and the many, many, many flies buzzing around my ears, trying to land on my eyeballs. Biting and/or shitting on my arms and legs.

Within a few minutes, I had an Civil Law test rolled up like a bat and was ready to kill the next little-winged son of a bitch that landed on my body. I put my legs up on the bench as bait.

“Come on you little bastards,” I mumbled.

Eventually, the flies won.

I gathered my books and hurried into my tent. Thankfully, only five of the 57 flies managed to follow me inside before I pulled the zipper down. I stared through the single-net portal at the trees, there was about 1/2 foot of space between the top of my head and the tent’s ceiling. I looked with my eyes and my ears–the leaves, the buzz of the gnats, and the rough slap of my Civil Law test coming down to kill each fly.

When it was dark, the camp site manager came to collect my money for the night’s stay, then a van pulled in beside my campsite and a couple of young, cute guys crawled out. They looked at me, I looked at them, we all looked away.

Date night. Solo. Away from the city lights and the boom-boom-boom of Main Street. The glorified port-o-potty wasn’t too bad, the campers around me were respectful and went quiet at a reasonable hour, and I fell asleep listening to the bugs and owls shoot the shit.

I woke up at sunrise and the flies were already out, so I packed up and drove home.

It’s always nice to be reminded that being alone can be lovely. I mean, if you can’t be by yourself without getting bored, who the hell else will want to be with you?

Published by permission. Visit Mari's blog at http://www.mari-go-round.com/

Hop Head Said - A Blog by Curtis: BJ's Brewhouse Blonde

BJ’s Brewhouse Blonde®

Let me start straight off this review by saying that Kolsch is not even close to my beer favorite style. I will almost always skip over these beers (generally at the top of a beer list) for the bolder tasting ones further down the list and so it was challenging for me to even pick this beer for a review.

I tried to clear my head of my previous prejudices towards this style and sat down with the beer and began my review routine:

1. my notebook and pen to my right
2. a clean glass, bottle of beer and opener to the left
3. pop the top, enjoy the CO2 cloud escaping the bottle and start the pour down the side of the glass until about half full then straight down the middle to raise the head.

It had a wonderful pour and a thick white head that did not die down releasing subtle hop aromas throughout the beer. There is a slight hop bite making it a crisp drinkable beer and pushed the bitterness scale to the right. Even though the IBU’s are quite low in beer the hop bitterness stands out more because there isn’t a lot of malt in this beer to balance them.

This beer is just outside of the IBU guidelines of a Kolsch. It is much closer to its name (Brewhouse Blonde) which is 15-28. In addition to the base grain, the grain bill included wheat malt and Vienna. Wheat malt can be added to increase head retention and add a light straw color. Vienna malt is used to add a little extra body and add a little extra malt flavor.

If you are familiar with Kolsch or if it is one of your favorite styles this beer may be a bit disappointing. It is much closer to the blonde ale style guidelines as its name implies rather than a Kolsch which is how BJ’s categorizes this beer. If you are a bumiloors (Bud/Miller/Coors) drinker then this is a great “gateway beer” (a beer that seduces you to try other craft beers) for you. Before you know it you will be skipping the top of the list just like me!

Published by permission. Visit Curtis' blog at http://hopheadsaid.wordpress.com/

Hop Head Said - A Blog by Curtis: BJ's Brewhouse Jeremiah Red

There will soon be over 100 BJ’s, all scattered across the country, with 50 locations in California. I visited the Oxnard location @ 461 Esplanade Drive/805.485.1124.

With at least 15 beers in their lineup you can bet that you will find a beer to enjoy. If you don’t want to taste ‘em all I will do my best to taste all their beers so you don’t have to. It is a big project and it will take awhile but then again I am really thirsty and I am sure you are, too! So let’s get started…

I only had time to stop in at the restaurant and picked up two six packs. Usually I would sit down with my samplers and notepad but I just didn’t have the time to do so. Also, I wanted to get this blog up and running. Unfortunately they do not mix their six packs and you cannot at your local grocery or liquor store. So if you want to sample a few different brews be prepared to sit and taste at the restaurant (which has great brewpub ambiance) or purchase a couple six packs to go.

My first review is BJ’s Jeremiah Red®

The crystal malt used in this recipe imparts a rich gold to copper-red color and caramel flavor and increases foam stability. The Munich malt contributes an intense malt flavor and some color while the chocolate malt used in small quantities gave the beer a deep red/brown and just a hint of roasted flavor. The Northern Brewer hops used added bitterness but not a lot of flavor and gave the beer an earthy aroma.

http://www.bjsrestaurants.com/bj-beers

Published by permission. Visit Curtis' blog at http://hopheadsaid.wordpress.com/

Debbie Does Music: Fun-do-mental Music in Thousand Oaks

Ya’ll saw the Harvest Moon the other night, right? It was big and beautiful. The specialty of the harvest moon was that it rose in direct correlation with the sun setting. this was because of the fall equinox. It actually hasn’t happened since 1991, and is known as the Super Harvest Moon this year.

This was cause for celebration. And in Thousand Oaks, David DePalo, owner of the new Fun-do-mental Music studio, decided to celebrate with a free-form aleatoric jam (for us simple folk, it was a music jam).

DePalo, holds a master’s degree from the Peabody Conservatory of John’s Hopkins University.He’s worked in the film industry for the past fifteen years as a composer and orchestrator. “I’ve played classical guitar since I was eight. I jammed in my basement all through high-school and that’s how I knew such a concept [as Fun-do-mental Music] was possible.” says DePalo. ” You don’t need to be a trained musician to make music. It’s a simple as howling at the moon.” Which is what it felt like Wednesday night.

After taking pictures and warming up to the participants, a participated by banging on the bongos like a good music lover! My kids keep reminding me that Debbie Does NOT, in fact DO music…I just write about it. But here is proof, to everyone, that even I, a writer more than a player, can get down and howl with the best of them.

There aren’t just drums at Fun-do-mental. There are all kinds of interesting instruments. Some that make you go hmmmmm. I had to ask David about some of them. “The concert bass drum and 34″ Han Chi Chau Symphonic Tam-tam are favorites with the kids. As is the Water Phone, which is a bowed percussion instrument the emits eery sounds like whale song. I personally love the Khamak, an exciting drum that has a string attached to the head which you strum with a plectrum to create frantic, thrilling rhythms. The harmoniums and pixie harps are fun, too. And everyone loves our double bass.”

Not only can you come to one of David’s jam sessions (he updates his website frequently with dates of upcoming events), you can also have parties and take lessons there. “For a while I kept the studio completely acoustic. But we score a short film for kids’ parties, and one day I cut some old sci-fi scenes of a space ship landing and taking off into that movie. So then, of course, I had to get a Theramin!”

The studio is clean, modern and comfortable. It’s a wonderful place to create music, or take a class. Check out everything Fun-do-mental Music has to offer our community.

Printed by permission. Visit Debbie's blog @ http://www.exurbmagazine.com/

Debbie Does Music: California Beer Festival

What does beer have to do with Debbie Does Music? Well, hopefully, where there is good beer, there is good music! And yes, that was the case last Saturday when I headed out to Ventura for the day.

The 2nd Annual California Beer Festival was held at lovely Mission Park. The day started sort of gloomy, and the lines to get in were just a tad overwhelming (I’m being nice, the lines SUCKED!) But since the festival went from 1500 to 4000 tickets sold (selling out two years in a row) I took it for ‘growing pains’ and chatted with the peeps around me while we waited.

Once in the park, we all got wrist bands and 3 0z beer glasses. Our mission? To work our way through the park and sample as many micro brewed selections as we could, while maintaining our upstanding citizenship. That was a challenge for some, especially towards the end of the day.I tried many beers, Sierra Nevada, some exclusives from Trader Joes, Blue Moon, but my favorite of the day was the Red Trolly Ale from Karl Strauss. 3 ounces of that was just not enough for me. I went back a few times.

Oh wait…the reason
I was there? To cover the live music! Whoops…got a little side tracked.

So there was live music.

There were two stages, one on the hill, one near the food vendors. The bands included The Blue Baron Band, Shawn Jones, My Brothers Band, The Grinders, Dr. M, and the favorite and headliner of the day, Ventura’s own Rey Fresco.

The stages alternated through out the day, so attendees had a chance to take part in both sides of the festival. Good planning on the part of the festival.

Just as Rey Fresco took the stage, the sun made an appearance. It felt good to sit in the sun, finish my ale, and listen to the fresh sound coming from the stage.

I will attend again next year, but some things I’ll do different….get there earlier to find free parking, wear more comfortable shoes, and eat lunch before I get there…the lines were too long at all the food vendors.

Printed by permission. Visit Debbie's blog @ http://www.exurbmagazine.com/

Food in Life - A Blog by Jen: Messing Things Up and Making Them Right Again

You already know I am not a rookie or first timer in the kitchen....That I have the experience and know how to make fabulous meals for myself or for a crowd. I can make simple food or over the top crazy food and I can bake like a Mo-fo or put up 5 gallons of tomatoes in cans for the winter.

But even I make mistakes. Examples as follows.....

• Burning Caramel Sauce because I was signing invoices. More than once.
• Forgetting to add water to steamed vegetables because I was making homemade puff pastry for Beef Wellington. Oops.
• Reversing the measurements for salt & sugar in scones because I was rushing to get all my assignments completed before break. Yum!
• Burning 5 sheet pans of bacon because it was 5am and I was quite possibly still inebriated from the night before. Crap.

And there are many many more....my point is that any time any of us effs up in the kitchen there is always an excuse. I was distracted, tired, rushed, drunk, not paying attention or any number of other fun reasons.

The crummy part about tonight is that I was REALLY looking forward to my dinner and I effed it all up.

Thanks to some help from Zack. An ex-boyfriend and old friend from a gazillion years ago who I was happily catching up with while sauteing, stirring and pan frying my dinner.

Yep, sorry buddy, I am sharing the blame with you just a little because I was too busy chatting with you on FB to double check my sand dabs before pan frying them. So they got fried with their organs still in them. Note to self....don't believe the fish guy when he tells you they are "ready to cook".

Blech. Seriously Blech. In the trash and out the door...as fast as possible so I didn't barf.

But on a positive note I still got to enjoy my fabulous sweet corn risotto cake and sauteed spinach for dinner because I did watch out for those, thank you very much! And had about a three hour chat session with someone who I really needed to talk to.

I'll share the corn risotto cakes because they were the star of my dinner tonight. I made the risotto a couple of nights ago for my lovely girlz who came over for food and wine therapy. That night they were paired with seafood and truffle oil (fabulous!) and I made an overabundance of the risotto so I set some of it aside without the seafood and oil for future use. And damn if they werent twice as good with a crispy crust.

Sweet Corn Risotto

2 Shallots, Chopped

1 T Olive Oil

12 oz Arborio Rice

1/2 Cup White Wine

2 Ears White Corn

4 Cups Corn Stock*

1 T Fresh Thyme Leaves

Salt & Pepper to taste

2/3 C Parmesan Cheese

*To make corn stock, shave off kernels of corn in to a bowl and then scrape the cobs with the back of a knife to get all the juice and pulp left in the cob. Add the corn kernels and pulp and juice to 6 cups water and boil until it is about 4 cups in volume. Add salt to taste.

Saute the shallot in olive oil until soft and add rice. Stir for about 5 minutes or until opaque. Add wine and stir until all wine is absorbed. Add the corn stock about 1 cup at a time stirring constantly. When adding the last cup of stock, add the thyme leaves. Stir until rice is tender, if you need to add more liquid, use water or chicken stock. Add cheese at the last minute.

If you want to add a protein, this is the time to do it....sauteed shrimp, scallops & calamari is what we opted for with just a drizzle of truffle oil. You could do chicken as well or add mushrooms for an earthy flavor.

For the Risotto cakes, start with cooled risotto, best if refrigerated. Melt a little butter in a nonstick skillet. Shape risotto into a cake about 3/4" thick. Pan fry on both sides over medium heat until crispy. The might fall apart a little, just nudge it back together....it'll hold. :)

Just like I found out tonight that some things, no matter how far apart they have fallen, can come back together and hold.

Printed by permission. Visit Jen's blog @ http://foodinlife.blogspot.com/

Date Night - A Blog by Mari: California Beer Festival

I had two tickets to the California Beer Festival, but by Friday night I was dateless, so I resorted to my online dating site and received a response back from a guy I’ll call BeerAndFabric. I had exchanged emails with BeerAndFabric via OkCupid but never spoke to him over the phone.

After he accepted, I realized I had made a horrible mistake: I had never spoken to this guy on the phone or met him face to face! What if he was really a she? What if he talked non stop about cock enlargements? What if he constantly called girls bitch as a term of endearment? Oh dear. Was I in for another disaster date?

I sucked it up, damned myself, readied myself, and walked my ass to Mission Park. I joined a line half a mile long and waited for my date, rationalizing all the reasons why this guy would be cool: he liked to read, he worked for a popular company and created things with fabric, he liked to talk, and he loved beer.

When he called and I heard his voice, he sounded normal enough, but I got fight or flight syndrome. I was such an ass, eyeballing the rest of the man meat and fantasizing about getting tipsy with these chunks of beef instead of my stranger. I wanted to be that blip on a radar screen that suddenly disappears from this guy’s life.

I wanted to pull a dick move.

My sister asked, “Does he know what you look like?”

I replied, “Yes.”

“Darn.”

Guess dick moves run in the family.

Calm yourself, my babies. I don’t have the balls to do that to someone else.

So he found me. In person he was better looking. Tall, glasses, not trendy–all things I dig.

Inside the festival, he talked a lot, about beer, about himself, but was inquisitive. Good stuff. He wanted to feed me so I wouldn’t get too tipsy–more good stuff. Funny, I invited him but he was my tour guide, and he didn’t go from brewery to brewery as I would have done, instead, he was very specific about which breweries I should try.

Affligem blond, Blue Moon’s Pale moon, Moretti, New Belgium, New Castle, Pyramid, Shock Top, Sierra Nevada, Arrogant Bastard, and Wolf Creek–hand picked by BeerAndFabric.

We had a few, then we rested on the LoveSac’s under the trees at Mission Park. Talking to BeerAndFabric, we shared stories, talked about online dating, and he said, “A lot of people don’t like online dating because they tend to meet a lot of freaks. The crazy part? I like that I meet freaks.”

“Me, too!” I exclaimed, my secret out. ”Bring on the OkCupid freak show! Freaks make life more interesting–I’m a freak! ”

BeerAndFabric and I discussed our common, online dating bond. You’re moving outside of your circle, perhaps outside of your usual hang-out–whether it be some swank, hip club on the third floor of The Waterside Restaurant, or a burlesque, sweaty, leather-clad club in Hollywood–and into a stranger’s world. The stranger’s stranger-ness is all that makes them a freak. It’s a real-life Choose Your Own Adventure.

Sitting on that LoveSac with BeerAndFabric, I realized I had no Love for BeerAndFabric’s Sac. I was engaged and enlightened by his thoughts and views on life and beer, but that’s about where cupid’s arrow deflected and missed my heart. Chemistry.

He was a Hydrogen, and I was an Oxygen, but without the extra Hydrogen atom, we were not H2O–we were HO. I coulda been a HO and banged him senseless, but that’s not how I roll.

Otherwise, the beer was delicious and the BBQ was simply… amazing. The live band played some Dramarama and I gave a mini-tipsy rendition of Anything, Anything as men and women spilled their beers, probably in awe of my awesome off-key voice.

Beer taps started to go empty at about 3:30 pm, and we left the Festival at about 4. He asked if I wanted to go do something afterward, but I was pooped. We parted ways.

I went home, made a few tipsy phone calls, and passed out face down on my bed.

The only thing freakish about this date was the way I looked after I woke up.

Here are a few pictures from the event.

These Pretzels are making me thirsty.

Great idea, pal. Pretzel Necklace at next year’s beer festival? Check!

How Beer is Made

He said, “If you don’t understand this T-shirt, you shouldn’t be here.”

Mari's California Beer Festival glass. Drink #2

I’m going to name my first-born son Porter.

I got these free tickets to the Califonia Beer Festival from VenturaNightout.com. I must plug the site because they are awesome. VenturaNightOut.com announces deals and gives out free tickets on occasion, you just have to LIKE them on facebook. The VenturaNightOut feed does the rest–just keep your eyes open for the specials!

Published by permission. Visit Mari's blog at http://www.mari-go-round.com/

Hop Head Said - A Blog by Curtis: Do You Love Beer?

Do you love beer? I mean BEER, not the yellow-flavored-low-carb-diet-water so popular today. With that kind of attitude it is not surprising that some people have called me a beer snob. Not to say that I haven’t ever had one of those, heck 15 years ago used to stock my fridge with the same fizzy-yellow-flavored-water. However, if I was given the chance I would always try something new. Back then these “new” beers taught me that beer could taste great and they had exotic names like Leinekugals, Henry Weinhard’s, and Guinness. These beers taught me to expect more.

Back then I lived in South Dakota and I would stop at any grocery store or liquor store I could find when I traveled just to see what beer they had in stock. If there was something there I had never seen before I would pick up a mixed sixer if possible. It got to a point to where I had to remodel a basement closet into a walk-in beer cellar just to house the beer found on those trips. But that wasn’t enough for me; I needed to log the beers I was drinking. I would strip the labels off each bottle and they would then go into a beer scrapbook. Over 700 Iabels were nicely organized in several large binders. The binders started taking up just a little too much space and it wasn’t a convenient reference system when I was on the road. So I made a spread sheet and logged them all in there. All that work made me…THIRSTY. As I was enjoying a cold one (poetic license here folks) I had a great idea! Why not write beer reviews. I have tasted hundreds of different kinds of beer; I understand the basics of brewing and I can explain why the beer you are tasting tastes that way. Maybe the most important reason, I enjoy sharing my opinions about beer.

Published by permission. Visit Curtis' blog at http://hopheadsaid.wordpress.com/

Debbie Does Music: Thrift Store Cowboys

Do you tweet? I do! You can find me @debbiedoesmusic. I find tweeting keeps me up to date with local and big named bands, as well as some of my favorite venues.
Last week, I found out from Twitter that a band I love was going to be at The Mint in LA. Then, a surprise! The Mint tweeted a contest. The first person to tweet “I’m going to @tscowboys @MintLA tomorrow” would win free tickets! I was on my blackberry retweeting before you could say “Thrift Store Cowboys”!

I got the tickets, booked a sitter, and headed to LA on Saturday! the show was intimate and amazing. At a small venue like The Mint, you can actually hang with the band members before the gig starts. So, I sat and chatted with Amanda Shires and Daniel Fluitt about life on the road, writing music, writing stories and cowboy boots. They were even polite when I dropped my “cool” attitude and started talking about my kids! When we finished chatting, the opening act, Warren Jackson Hearne, a guitar picking’ man Johnny Cash himself would approve of, took the stage.

After a brief intermission, Thrift Store Cowboys took the stage for about an hour and a half of some great alternative country music. Their newly released single,Scary Weeds, is definitely a great song, if you like them slow. I can’t wait for the release next month of the entire album,

Light Fighter. Their serious lyrics and dramatic blend of guitar, fiddle, lap steel and even accordion make their sound something you start craving the more you hear. I totally love Beneath the Shoes off their 2006 album Lay Low While Crawling or Creeping, I think you will too! Check them out, it’s as easy as a search on itunes.

Printed by permission. Visit Debbie's blog @ http://www.exurbmagazine.com/

Food in Life - A Blog by Jen: An Unexpected Treat

One of the best things about traveling is eating new things....a trip to any spot outside my hometown requires trying everything new, unique and indigenous to wherever it is I am at. When I think of a place I have been there is always a food memory linked with it. My mom shares this trait with me, or more likely I inherited it from her. We have a dear family friend, Rosie....who is not only fabulous beyond words, but also a travel agent and puts together the most amazing "girls trips" that involve some of the best adventures on the planet and Mom has gotten to join her multiple times to experience Heli-hiking in the Canadian Rockies, exploring Greece with the next best thing to a native and one of my moms best trips, a trip to Tuscany to stay in a 1000 year old Castello to stay with an Italian chef at a cooking school. Unsurprisingly she brought home numerous stories and memories, and of course all of the cookbooks the school had to offer with recipes from their stay along with the Chef's own signature cookbook and memoir. One of our absolute favorite treats that she brought home is a very unexpected combination of flavors, perfect for pairing with your first cocktail, glass of wine or even better yet, champagne or dry sparkling wine. If you are not a "fish person" you might want to stop right here and call it a day. But if you like salt and you like fish...read on and give these a go because they are absolutely delicious and are inhaled within moments of coming out of the frying pan. First you go pick an even number of sage leaves, make sure they somewhat pair up as you will be making a sandwich of them. The filling? Anchovy Paste. Correct, the fishy, salty, briny and full of the sea flavor fishes that find themselves relegated to a hidden shelf in the grocery store, kept off of pizza and snuck in to your Caesar salad. I kid you not, this is a winner. The combo of the earthy sage pops and the salty fish is tempered by a light batter of egg and flour. I do love these little buggers. And tonight as Mom and I are hanging out at her house while Dad is up north catching fish and a buzz with his buddies, she decided it was time for one of Giancarlo's treats to whet our appetites. Sage Fritters 12 Sage Leaves, rinsed & patted dry, 1/2" of the stem left on (its a handle!) Anchovy Paste 1 Egg A little water Flour Canola oil for frying Spread a thin layer of anchovy paste on 1/2 of the leaves and then press the remaining leaves on those to make a "sandwich".

Beat the egg and add a touch of water and a few tablespoons of flour. Whisk until smooth. It should be the consistency of pancake batter, add more flour or water as needed.

Heat the oil until shimmering. Dip the fritters in the egg batter and fry until golden on both sides.

Drain on a paper towel and let them cool a moment before letting people inhale them.

Like this. :)

Printed by permission. Visit Jen's blog @ http://foodinlife.blogspot.com/

Date Night - A Blog by Mari: 3 Important Internet Dating Suggestions

I went on an internet date with this guy from Tennessee.

We met on www.OKCupid.com and I immediately liked his lumberjack beard and his shoulders, and that he was older than me because I like Me some older, hairy, corn fed, Southern fellers.

I like the skinny men, too.

Oh hell, I like ‘em all! Men, you amaze me with your hairy-dangling parts, your baseball player asses, and your Superman shoulders. Kick ass.

Several texts and phone calls later, Ol’ Tennessee and me met at Element Coffee in Camarillo.

Suggestion #1: If you’re serious about wanting to meet someone who will last for the long-haul, a long-term boyfriend, you should meet during the day without alcohol and make the date short. It doesn’t take longer than an hour to figure out if you’re really interested in someone. This way, you avoid getting slobbering-ly drunk and making out/humping some guy you may have really liked. Just trust me. Also, it’s never killed anyone to delay all the swapping of bodily fluids by a few dates.

When he walked in I recognized his face, but my mental hard-on shrank when I saw that he wasn’t cornfed like his online picture.

I’m not perfect, but I don’t misrepresent. The last thing I want is to look up and see a flash of disappointment in my date’s eyes. What you see is what you get, Pal. No double-d’s. No size 2. I’m an honest to goodness size 9, toting Barely B honks.

No big woop. So he wasn’t built like a brick shithouse, so what? Maybe he was an amazing person and we would click in other ways.

He grabbed a coffee and we walked down Ventura Boulevard.

As he spoke, I noted that his teeth were the shade of yellow corn. Dang, man.

All right, so he has stained teeth. Not a deal breaker–could be a vitamin deficiency?

He admitted he was a cigarette smoker. I said, “But your profile says you’re a non-smoker…”

His reply: “I’m trying to quit.”

I talked about school and he talked about his drug use, which consisted of cocaine, mushrooms, marijuana, and alcohol. I experimented in my 20s, but my 30s have been drug-free (minus a bi-monthly tipping of beer or rum).

Then he talked about his problems with anxiety, which I can relate to as I used to be a very anxious teenager and young adult. However, I learned to curb most of my anxiety the old fashioned way: I threw myself into a sea of conversations and interactions, and dealt with embarrasments and awkward moments until the anxiety, like a puddle on a frying pan, shrank to nearly nothing.

My date, however, relied on a different approach to calm his anxiety. He said, “I have to smoke out every day. I smoked out before I got here.”

Perhaps he hoped I might be his perfect other half who also enjoyed illegal drug use for recreation?

An hour later the date was winding down. I told him I had to get back to the coffee shop to study.

He said, “Okay. Walk me to my car.”

Have you ever been around Element Coffee on a weekday in the morning? It’s a tumbleweed town and this guy chose the most tumbleweed street to park; and as we started to get further down the block, and as I started to see less signs of life around us, I asked, “Where’s your car?”

“Down that way,” he said and pointed down into the distance of avenue where parking seemed ample, yet his car was far from sight.

I hesitated and fell a few feet behind him. My heart began to race a bit and I imagined how difficult it might be for anyone to hear my screams.

Suggestion #2 (and this will be a no-brainer to every girl except yours truly): Don’t walk a guy to his car after a first date. Maybe he’s a rapist,… or maybe he’s just first-date inept. Whatever the case: make the ineptitude his problem and avoid becoming a statistic on the local 9pm news. He should be walking you to your car.

“You know,” I said, “I think I’m going to go back. You can walk yourself to your car.”

“Really?” He asked, seeming put-off that I was not willing to join him at his rape mobile and sniff the dampened t-shirt in his trunk.

“Does this smell like chlorophorm?” He would ask as he smothered my face with the shirt, then planted his foot in my ass so that I landed squarely atop the black plastic tarp, bungee chords, and spade shovel.

“Yeah, really,” I answered.

“Well, come here and give me a hug,” he said, not moving.

I said, “Nope. Gotta get back. I’ll write you later. Have a good day!”

With that, I waved goodbye, turned, and jogged back to the coffee shop, the whole time expecting to feel him leap onto my back and whisper, “Wrastlin’ time, bitch!”

Looking back, I don’t believe he was going to snuff me out and bury my body in the field behind Santa Barbara Business College…but why chance it?

It’s been a few weeks, and I have not contacted this guy who became known among my friends as Chloroform Guy. I figured: no hard feelings as I didn’t hear from him, either. Then, today, while sitting at The Coffee Bean in Ventura, my laptop propped open and a homework deadline looming overhead, I glanced up and saw him walk in.

And I, the eternal gutless pussy, became Beeker from The Muppets and shrunk my face beneath the protective castle walls of my laptop screen.

Suggestion #3: If you’re absolutely sure you’re not interested in someone after a first date, take the high road and write a courtesy email that states, “Hey, I had a great time, but I didn’t feel a love connection and I sensed that you agree. Thanks for meeting!” Then you avoid all future, Beeker moments.

He ordered his coffee and walked out– eventually, I’m assuming. I couldn’t tell you how long he was there because I assumed the Beeker position for 10 minutes before convincing myself it was OK to look up again.

So again, another failed date. I throw myself back into the man pool, balls-deep as my guy friends say, to find my co-pilot.

Published by permission. Visit Mari's blog at http://www.mari-go-round.com/