Week 5: The Heartbreak Kid
The kitchen at work is something of a conversational deathtrap. Small talk
invariably revolves around what food you’re eating, what food you just ate,
what food you plan to eat later, or what kind of food could have possibly
created that smell, and which of our colleagues is most likely the culprit.
I was standing in the kitchen, heating up some lunch, when a paralegal whose
name I actually know (“Loughran,” or “Lough” (pronounced “lock”) for short)
walked in with a bag from Moe’s. Moe’s is to Chipotle what Pepe Lopez is to
Jose Cuervo.
“Hey Lough!” I said. By using his name, I hoped to convey the camaraderie
between attorneys and staff. “What’s for lunch?”
We both looked down at the word “Moe’s” in big letters on his bag before he
looked back up at me. “Moe’s.”
“Ah,” I said wisely. And then, to make it even more profound, nodded my
head slightly.
“You?”
“Oh, just something I made in the crockpot on Sunday.” I saw where this
conversation was going, and felt the stirrings of uneasiness I get when new
people start asking me where I went to school.
“Oh yeah? What?”
“Beef bourguignon.” I didn’t like the way it sounded by itself. I felt
compelled to back away from the bourgeois element. “It’s just beef slowly
simmered in red wine.” And then, stumbling forward, “You should try it
sometime.” I had gone from exchanging recipes to issuing colonial edicts.
Lough, gathering together plastic utensils and napkins, looked over at me.
“Isn’t pretty much everything you make in a crockpot slowly simmered in
something else?”
***
I’d had conversational misfires with him before. I ran into him in the
hallway the week before Christmas. This was shortly after the attorneys had
been notified that we would receive bonuses in excess of fifty thousand
dollars.
“So, Lough,” I said. I weighed slugging him in the arm with fraternal
affection but changed my mind halfway, dodging his arm entirely and bringing
my fist back towards my other shoulder in a bizarrely threatening manner.
He stared, waiting for me to go on. Meanwhile, I looked as though I had
just drawn an invisible cape around my shoulders.
“Heard you guys got some gift certificates?” I couldn’t remember whether
gift certificates were considered tacky, and ended up saying the words too
delicately, as though asking whether he’d received the food stamps I’d left
on his chair.
He nodded. “Two hundred bucks on Amazon.”
I smiled and nodded. He stared at me. I’m not sure what more I was
expecting. Eventually, I realized no heartfelt thanks were forthcoming.
There’s a pressing need in this city to end all casual interactions with a
pithy conversational coda, a humorous yet uplifting observation or
suggestion that allows both parties to bring their light-hearted interaction
to a satisfying close and move on with their lives. We were stuck, standing
in each other’s way in the hallway, waiting for one.
Finally one came to me. “Well,” I said brightly, “at least it’s better than
nothing.”
“Is it really?” he asked.
Onto the game. . .
Like FEMA relief, the Saints came to New Orleans loaded with resources,
bringing the beleaguered city and its residents hope and the promise of
revitalization. Instead, as time wore on, they failed to live up to
expectations, profoundly disappointing Orleaners with their failure to make
any noticeable progress
At 0-4, they were looking for redemption. Standing in their way: YOUR
CAROLINA PANTHERS!
The Big Cat D demoralized the Saints. Rookie sensation LB Jon Beason,
starting in place of the ubiquitously-injured Dan Morgan, squashed Reggie
Bush’s inside lanes. The bruising 0-0 tie was broken in the first quarter
when a pass from Brees was intercepted by CB Richard Marshall! In a game
that favors youth, some things only get better with age, and “Leg of God” K
John Kasay put the Panthers up by a field goal. 3-0, Panthers!
The Saints came back to tie it up 3-3 when QB David Carr nearly had his back
broken during a sack. “It was by far the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my
life,” Carr would say later. “Every bone in my back popped all the way up
to my neck. . . .I didn’t know, honestly, if I’d ever play again.” Carr was
taken off the field in a cart. They had the technology. They could fix
him. But with Delhomme still injured, his replacement would be. . .Matt
Moore!
Who the hell is Matt Moore?
Well, according to analyst Ron Jaworski during this year’s draft, Matt Moore
was the “best quarterback prospect after JaMarcus Russell, Brady Quinn, and
Trent Edwards.” (Which is a little like being “the most popular character
on ‘CSI’” after the pudgy-faced dude, the hot older chick, the
mannish-yet-weirdly-sexy younger chick, and the black dude.)
His first pass: a 43-yarder to WR Keary Colbert! Matt Moore is the second
coming of Johnny Unitas! The South will rise again! His second pass was
nearly intercepted. Still, 1-2 ain’t bad. Another Kasay field goal, 6-3
Panthers!
The critics have been saying, where is Julius Peppers? Know this: no one
has a greater physical _or_ psychological impact on the game. His mere
presence on the defensive line negated a Saints touchdown when he terrified
an offensive lineman out of position before the snap. The Saints’ 10:20
minute, 19-play, 67-yard drive was limited to a tying Olindo Mare field goal
before the half.
And now, we take a short break to play, "Where In the World is Dwayne 'The
Phantom' Jarrett?" The second-round draft choice/bust was once again
inactive.
a. As a USC alum, experiencing enormous setbacks learning i. to read and
ii. pay his bills without improper donations from would-be agents. Ooh. .
.too soon?
b. Trying to prevent Jack and Kate from leaving the island
c. Searching for the 'real robber' who made off with OJ's paraphernalia in
Vegas
d. Carpooling with Joe Paterno
In the third quarter, the Saints pulled ahead by a TD. But ask not whom
Julius Peppers defends; he defends thee! Peppers blocks an Olindo Mare
field goal, and the ball is recovered by Richard Marshall and taken to the
Panther 15! We are Richard Marshall! Carr to WR Steve Smith, touchdown,
tied ballgame with 10:11 to play!
In the final ten minutes, the two teams would intercept one another on the
same drive, and Olindo Mare would miss a 54-yd field goal. With three
seconds to play, at the New Orleans 35, with the game on the line, there’s
only one person you can rely upon. The Last of the Original Panthers. FG
by Kasay is good! Panthers win, and tie with the Bucs for the NFC South
crown!
But grave news for America’s Team. Delhomme opted for season-ending elbow
surgery this week, and Carr’s back has kept him from practicing with the
team, leaving Moore the only healthy quarterback on the Carolina squad.
Who could they pick up as backup? Well, there’s Jake Plummer (no chance),
Tim Rattay (doesn’t every team have to sign Tim Rattay at some point? isn’
t it part of getting a new stadium deal?), Marquis Tuiasosopo (because all
other things being equal, always trade for the person who name could most
easily be a hilarious Pixar villain), Aaron Brooks (currently working as
mall security), Tim Couch (purely as a prank call to later post on
panthers.com), Ken Dorsey (will play for a sandwich), or Andrew Walter (a
bad decision that some team will inevitably talk itself into, like throwback
jerseys).
Instead, we got. . .Vinny Testaverde! At 43 years young! And, with Carr
unable to practice, he may very well start against Kurt Warner in Arizona
this weekend. Some things only get better with age.
Reader mail:
From Kelly H., from somewhere in the 80s:
“The Liesl story is classic - secretly, I think you just didn't want to make
conversation with with a beer company rep.
‘So, uh, love the keg can.’
‘Thanks - I'll never figure out how they miniaturize all those kegs. It
must be really hard. I like string.’”
Random quote:
From a WashPost review of The Pug (short for The Pugilist), a boxing-themed
bar on Capitol Hill:
“[Owner Tony] Tomelden had planned on a jukebox, but after years of
listening to tipsy congressional staffers play '80s rock and hair metal at
Capitol Lounge, he decided he'd rather set up playlists on his laptop.
‘Hearing U2 once a week is cool,’ he explains. ‘Hearing them nine times a
night is not. And never hearing Jon Bon Jovi is awesome.’”
This weekend: Vinny Testaverdede. Kurt Warner. NFL 2007!
Until next time.
RROWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
www.growlingwall.blogspot.com
invariably revolves around what food you’re eating, what food you just ate,
what food you plan to eat later, or what kind of food could have possibly
created that smell, and which of our colleagues is most likely the culprit.
I was standing in the kitchen, heating up some lunch, when a paralegal whose
name I actually know (“Loughran,” or “Lough” (pronounced “lock”) for short)
walked in with a bag from Moe’s. Moe’s is to Chipotle what Pepe Lopez is to
Jose Cuervo.
“Hey Lough!” I said. By using his name, I hoped to convey the camaraderie
between attorneys and staff. “What’s for lunch?”
We both looked down at the word “Moe’s” in big letters on his bag before he
looked back up at me. “Moe’s.”
“Ah,” I said wisely. And then, to make it even more profound, nodded my
head slightly.
“You?”
“Oh, just something I made in the crockpot on Sunday.” I saw where this
conversation was going, and felt the stirrings of uneasiness I get when new
people start asking me where I went to school.
“Oh yeah? What?”
“Beef bourguignon.” I didn’t like the way it sounded by itself. I felt
compelled to back away from the bourgeois element. “It’s just beef slowly
simmered in red wine.” And then, stumbling forward, “You should try it
sometime.” I had gone from exchanging recipes to issuing colonial edicts.
Lough, gathering together plastic utensils and napkins, looked over at me.
“Isn’t pretty much everything you make in a crockpot slowly simmered in
something else?”
***
I’d had conversational misfires with him before. I ran into him in the
hallway the week before Christmas. This was shortly after the attorneys had
been notified that we would receive bonuses in excess of fifty thousand
dollars.
“So, Lough,” I said. I weighed slugging him in the arm with fraternal
affection but changed my mind halfway, dodging his arm entirely and bringing
my fist back towards my other shoulder in a bizarrely threatening manner.
He stared, waiting for me to go on. Meanwhile, I looked as though I had
just drawn an invisible cape around my shoulders.
“Heard you guys got some gift certificates?” I couldn’t remember whether
gift certificates were considered tacky, and ended up saying the words too
delicately, as though asking whether he’d received the food stamps I’d left
on his chair.
He nodded. “Two hundred bucks on Amazon.”
I smiled and nodded. He stared at me. I’m not sure what more I was
expecting. Eventually, I realized no heartfelt thanks were forthcoming.
There’s a pressing need in this city to end all casual interactions with a
pithy conversational coda, a humorous yet uplifting observation or
suggestion that allows both parties to bring their light-hearted interaction
to a satisfying close and move on with their lives. We were stuck, standing
in each other’s way in the hallway, waiting for one.
Finally one came to me. “Well,” I said brightly, “at least it’s better than
nothing.”
“Is it really?” he asked.
Onto the game. . .
Like FEMA relief, the Saints came to New Orleans loaded with resources,
bringing the beleaguered city and its residents hope and the promise of
revitalization. Instead, as time wore on, they failed to live up to
expectations, profoundly disappointing Orleaners with their failure to make
any noticeable progress
At 0-4, they were looking for redemption. Standing in their way: YOUR
CAROLINA PANTHERS!
The Big Cat D demoralized the Saints. Rookie sensation LB Jon Beason,
starting in place of the ubiquitously-injured Dan Morgan, squashed Reggie
Bush’s inside lanes. The bruising 0-0 tie was broken in the first quarter
when a pass from Brees was intercepted by CB Richard Marshall! In a game
that favors youth, some things only get better with age, and “Leg of God” K
John Kasay put the Panthers up by a field goal. 3-0, Panthers!
The Saints came back to tie it up 3-3 when QB David Carr nearly had his back
broken during a sack. “It was by far the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my
life,” Carr would say later. “Every bone in my back popped all the way up
to my neck. . . .I didn’t know, honestly, if I’d ever play again.” Carr was
taken off the field in a cart. They had the technology. They could fix
him. But with Delhomme still injured, his replacement would be. . .Matt
Moore!
Who the hell is Matt Moore?
Well, according to analyst Ron Jaworski during this year’s draft, Matt Moore
was the “best quarterback prospect after JaMarcus Russell, Brady Quinn, and
Trent Edwards.” (Which is a little like being “the most popular character
on ‘CSI’” after the pudgy-faced dude, the hot older chick, the
mannish-yet-weirdly-sexy younger chick, and the black dude.)
His first pass: a 43-yarder to WR Keary Colbert! Matt Moore is the second
coming of Johnny Unitas! The South will rise again! His second pass was
nearly intercepted. Still, 1-2 ain’t bad. Another Kasay field goal, 6-3
Panthers!
The critics have been saying, where is Julius Peppers? Know this: no one
has a greater physical _or_ psychological impact on the game. His mere
presence on the defensive line negated a Saints touchdown when he terrified
an offensive lineman out of position before the snap. The Saints’ 10:20
minute, 19-play, 67-yard drive was limited to a tying Olindo Mare field goal
before the half.
And now, we take a short break to play, "Where In the World is Dwayne 'The
Phantom' Jarrett?" The second-round draft choice/bust was once again
inactive.
a. As a USC alum, experiencing enormous setbacks learning i. to read and
ii. pay his bills without improper donations from would-be agents. Ooh. .
.too soon?
b. Trying to prevent Jack and Kate from leaving the island
c. Searching for the 'real robber' who made off with OJ's paraphernalia in
Vegas
d. Carpooling with Joe Paterno
In the third quarter, the Saints pulled ahead by a TD. But ask not whom
Julius Peppers defends; he defends thee! Peppers blocks an Olindo Mare
field goal, and the ball is recovered by Richard Marshall and taken to the
Panther 15! We are Richard Marshall! Carr to WR Steve Smith, touchdown,
tied ballgame with 10:11 to play!
In the final ten minutes, the two teams would intercept one another on the
same drive, and Olindo Mare would miss a 54-yd field goal. With three
seconds to play, at the New Orleans 35, with the game on the line, there’s
only one person you can rely upon. The Last of the Original Panthers. FG
by Kasay is good! Panthers win, and tie with the Bucs for the NFC South
crown!
But grave news for America’s Team. Delhomme opted for season-ending elbow
surgery this week, and Carr’s back has kept him from practicing with the
team, leaving Moore the only healthy quarterback on the Carolina squad.
Who could they pick up as backup? Well, there’s Jake Plummer (no chance),
Tim Rattay (doesn’t every team have to sign Tim Rattay at some point? isn’
t it part of getting a new stadium deal?), Marquis Tuiasosopo (because all
other things being equal, always trade for the person who name could most
easily be a hilarious Pixar villain), Aaron Brooks (currently working as
mall security), Tim Couch (purely as a prank call to later post on
panthers.com), Ken Dorsey (will play for a sandwich), or Andrew Walter (a
bad decision that some team will inevitably talk itself into, like throwback
jerseys).
Instead, we got. . .Vinny Testaverde! At 43 years young! And, with Carr
unable to practice, he may very well start against Kurt Warner in Arizona
this weekend. Some things only get better with age.
Reader mail:
From Kelly H., from somewhere in the 80s:
“The Liesl story is classic - secretly, I think you just didn't want to make
conversation with with a beer company rep.
‘So, uh, love the keg can.’
‘Thanks - I'll never figure out how they miniaturize all those kegs. It
must be really hard. I like string.’”
Random quote:
From a WashPost review of The Pug (short for The Pugilist), a boxing-themed
bar on Capitol Hill:
“[Owner Tony] Tomelden had planned on a jukebox, but after years of
listening to tipsy congressional staffers play '80s rock and hair metal at
Capitol Lounge, he decided he'd rather set up playlists on his laptop.
‘Hearing U2 once a week is cool,’ he explains. ‘Hearing them nine times a
night is not. And never hearing Jon Bon Jovi is awesome.’”
This weekend: Vinny Testaverdede. Kurt Warner. NFL 2007!
Until next time.
RROWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
www.growlingwall.blogspot.com
Labels: bourguignon, Brees, Carolina, Carr, Chipotle, Delhomme, football, Kasay, keg, NFL, Panthers, Paterno, pug, Testaverde
posted by Panther fan at 3:45 PM
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