Do Me A Flavor

The past year of living in Los Angeles has been weird. I've grown a lot as a person. I've had to learn to ask, persevere, promote, and deliver comedy in weirder situations than I've ever been in. That includes the time I did comedy in a cut-out of a wall over a bar, standing on a 12-inch ledge. And everything I've done in Tukwila.

I read a book earlier this year called "The Go Giver." My friend & helper-angel Ann turned me on to it. The premise of the story is that when you can, Help. It greatly changed the way I look at helping, being helped, and the entire WHAT Helping Is. A subtext that I picked up on is that there's a BIG BIG BIG OPRAH EGO-HUGE difference between Helping, and Imposing Your Will With Best Intentions.

Somebody offering to swing a hammer to erect your weekend bone-shed, that's a Helper. They are there to help you get Your thing done.

Somebody bringing a set of blue-prints and one shovel and asking you "Why are you doing it that way? Shouldn't the drain be in the middle of the floor? Are these walls sound-proof? What grade are the leather restraints?" That's a NiceHole. They are coming to help you get things done the way they would like them to be done.

And if you question their intention, up their own ass they go, pursing their lips and saying "Well...
I WAS ONLY TRYING TO HELP."

Would you let somebody pay for your groceries for a month?
If it meant they got to do all the shopping, also?

Would you let somebody buy you a car?
If it meant they chose it, but you had to gas and insure it?

Would you let somebody get you a job that paid pretty well?
If it meant you didn't know what the job entailed?

I believe deeply in helping somebody when you can, simply because you can. It just MIGHT put you out, but you can handle it. Not talkin' kidney-donation, or even any kind of organ trade.
But never, ever helping somebody "on your terms." There is help, then there is Politicking.

Nobody elected you to be a Friend.

Give. Or Get. Graciously.

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The Best Thing I Ever Ate

There's a show on the Food Network, a.k.a. Fat-E! (I love the Food Network), called "The Best Thing I Ever Ate."

The best meal I ever ate was at Café Juanita in Kirkland, WA. The head chef, Holly Smith, is going to be on Food Net's "The Next Iron Chef." Well-deserved.

A few years ago we went there for Alicia's birthday dinner. It was a 5-minute walk from home, so the wine wasn't going to be a factor. Sweet.

When I go out to eat, I try to order something I cannot come close to making at home. Usually I order the healthiest thing on the menu, but if we're going white-tablecloth and I've gone so far as to wear a shirt with buttons on it... well... let's order-up.

So I ordered the Milk-Braised Wild Boar. Not something I was planning on ever working over in the crock-pot, so let's see what's-what with a Crazy Pig.
AMAZED by it.
Tender. Perfectly seasoned. It's the only thing I ever ate where I thought... "This needs absolutely nothing. It is perfect." It was a hand-sized piece of tenderloin luxuriating in a shallow pool of savory cream. It fell apart with a look. Unbelievable.

The other best thing I ever ate were my wife's Pecan Chocolate cookies she made last year while I was off in Las Vegas doing comedy for 10 days. She froze some for me in case I wasn't able to gain a full 10 pounds over the holidays, being on the road. Thems were THA BIZ.

So there you go. Thought I'd share that with you.
The worst thing I ever ate was crow, and some humble pie. Never did like the taste of it.

Then again, for a free-range animal, crow tastes like garbage.

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