I calculated my carbon footprint this afternoon and learned that my negative impact on the planet is almost twice that of an average American. Apparently my flying habit makes me a total carbon whore. I know that there are ways to remedy my greedy carbon footprint ways (eg: planting a tree or hugging bunnies) but I'm not sure that I'm ready for environmental rehab just yet.
Don't get me wrong - the environment and I are total homeboys. In Amherst I had the pleasure of living with dirty hippies who taught me the delicate art of recycling, composting, and this activity called "car pooling" (aka: carless people bummin' a ride). While I don't spend my free time polluting rivers or tossing Micky D wrappers out of my carbon un-friendly vehicle, I have a very shameful secret that I'm going to share with y'all: I don't recycle.
I know that the lack of reduce, re-use, recycle in my life makes me a wholeheartedly bad person. Allow me to 'splain: I live in a one bedroom condo with limited storage. While I could probably make room for unsightly recycling containers, I don't want to. I would also prefer not to schlep my separated glass, newspaper, and soda bottles 200 yards to the designated recycling bins which currently house scary squirrel families (among other things).
I feel a deep sense of shame when guests approach me with an empty Sam Adams and ask me where the recycling bin is. With remorse in my voice I'll inform them that I don't recycle before cracking open my own Sam Adams to help me get over my politically incorrect humiliation. Someday when I own a home that's larger than three rooms I'll repay my debt to society by recycling every Herald, scotch bottle, and Ann Coulter computer print I lay my hands on. Until then my carbon footprint remains strikingly similar to my size 10 footprint.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Gellin' to Prevent Kvelling*
If you've gone out bar hopping with me on a Saturday night, chances are I've either begged you to swap shoes with me or you've listened to me bitch about how painful my feet are. Well, pahkcah02's had enough and called for re-inforcements: Dr. Scholl's. Yes, loyal readers, Dr. Scholl's aren't just for old ladies suffering from corns. It turns out they're also for whiney 28 year old women who would rather vote Democrat than buy sensible shoes.
In other shoe news, how effing cute are these?
I've been eyeing them at Aldo since September. After staring and smiling at them for a good 10 minutes at the Palisades Mall this weekend, the Troll got fed up and asked me why "I didn't just [expletive] [expletive] buy them??". (Disclaimer: the Troll teaches English to immigrant children for a living.) As beautiful as they are, I couldn't bring myself to pay full retail plus 8% NY sales tax on them.
Rather than trek to the South Shore Plaza only to wimp out from buying them for the fourth time, I committed total time theft at work and perused aldoshoes.com. Since I am now BFF's with online shopping, here's how it works: before you buy ANYTHING, Google to see if there is a coupon code. For example, by taking 9 seconds to Google "Aldo Coupon Code", I saved 15% and got free shipping. I also saved $2 on my Dr. Scholl's. It doesn't always work but it's always worth the effort.
*Kvelling: Yiddish word that means "dying" but in the figuritive sense. Eg: I was kvelling when I heard that it was going to be 103 and humid.
In other shoe news, how effing cute are these?
I've been eyeing them at Aldo since September. After staring and smiling at them for a good 10 minutes at the Palisades Mall this weekend, the Troll got fed up and asked me why "I didn't just [expletive] [expletive] buy them??". (Disclaimer: the Troll teaches English to immigrant children for a living.) As beautiful as they are, I couldn't bring myself to pay full retail plus 8% NY sales tax on them.
Rather than trek to the South Shore Plaza only to wimp out from buying them for the fourth time, I committed total time theft at work and perused aldoshoes.com. Since I am now BFF's with online shopping, here's how it works: before you buy ANYTHING, Google to see if there is a coupon code. For example, by taking 9 seconds to Google "Aldo Coupon Code", I saved 15% and got free shipping. I also saved $2 on my Dr. Scholl's. It doesn't always work but it's always worth the effort.
*Kvelling: Yiddish word that means "dying" but in the figuritive sense. Eg: I was kvelling when I heard that it was going to be 103 and humid.
Monday, October 27, 2008
I (kinda) Love NY
As a Bostonian, there is nothing I enjoy more than getting my hate on for New York (and NJ). My rivalry with New York is friendly in nature and truth be told that I absolutely revel in the fact that while visiting NY I can act as arrogant as I want and it puts me on equal footing with the natives. While travelling for work my accent is almost always mistaken for New York. I love the friendly, relieved look that I get when I immediately correct them.
The Troll and I met up this weekend in Nyack, NY. It's about halfway between between Baltimore and Boston and happens to be home of the second largest mall in America, Palisades Place. We did a little shopping and then caught the Secret Life of Bees at the mall's 21 screen theatre. During the movie the sound cut out for about 8 seconds and I thought that riots were going to ensue. To put it in perspective, when something like that would've happened in Baltimore, everyone would've remained silent. If it had happened in Boston one or two people may have shouted something while the rest of the cinema looked on mortified. When it happened on the border of New York/New Jersey, 3/4 of the theatre screamed that they wanted a free ticket, while the other 1/4 silently agreed.
The movie incident only reinforced that for all of the garbage that the country heaps on New Yorkers, there is a laundry list of things that they get right. Here are a couple of only-in-New Yorkisms:
Diners: Truthfully, I am not a huge fan of diners, but I definitely like the idea of them. Upon entering any NY-area diner you will be handed a menu the size of a Manhattan phone book that contains pretty much any food you could possibly want. Not bad for $10 plus a free bowl of soup.
Service: Boston take note! I've never, ever, eaten anywhere in greater NYC where I didn't warrant the attention of at least three employees. I get a waitress, a busboy, and one guy who's sole job is to fill my water glass. Food arrives 15 minutes after it's ordered. Time is money, folks, and New Yorkers seem to get it.
Sports: Their baseball teams may suck, and they be obnoxious in their 18-1 t-shirts, but at least they are passionate. Who else besides New Yorkers would rapidly support the Islanders and NJ Nets?
Their lack of direction: No, they do not know where the N and R go nor will they give you directions to Century 21. In fact it kinda reminds me of....Bostonians....
Bagels: Real bagel shops do not sell smoked salmon (it's lox) nor do they offer to toast your bagel. Retro-signage, chalkboard menus, and people behind the counter who bark at you if you take too long to order. Eat your heart out, Finagle.
The Troll and I met up this weekend in Nyack, NY. It's about halfway between between Baltimore and Boston and happens to be home of the second largest mall in America, Palisades Place. We did a little shopping and then caught the Secret Life of Bees at the mall's 21 screen theatre. During the movie the sound cut out for about 8 seconds and I thought that riots were going to ensue. To put it in perspective, when something like that would've happened in Baltimore, everyone would've remained silent. If it had happened in Boston one or two people may have shouted something while the rest of the cinema looked on mortified. When it happened on the border of New York/New Jersey, 3/4 of the theatre screamed that they wanted a free ticket, while the other 1/4 silently agreed.
The movie incident only reinforced that for all of the garbage that the country heaps on New Yorkers, there is a laundry list of things that they get right. Here are a couple of only-in-New Yorkisms:
Friday, October 24, 2008
Where the Subway Lines End
Some of us dare to live in a foreign land where the subway lines end and this sprawling object called the Mass Bay Commuter Rail takes over. Surburbia? Seriously under-rated. A lot of trendy haunts have sprung up south of Boston that claim to be just as stylish as their idols in the Back Bay, which is downright ridiculous. If I want a Boston-like atmosphere, I'll go in to Boston. If I want to experience the sights and sounds of a magical place with plentiful parking and reasonably priced food/drinks, I'll go to one of these uniquely suburban joints:
Fresh Catch Seafood (locations in Mansfield, Easton, and North Attleboro): Is it a fish market? Is it a wanna-be trendy restaurant? Either way, their twin lobster specials, half-priced sushi nights, and $1 Narragansett drafts give Legal and Skipjacks a run for their money. Stop by the adjacent market for lobster priced as low as $4.99/lb, along with stuffies (quahogs), ready-to-cook baked stuffed shrimp, and quarts of clam chowder. Definitely worth the trip from anywhere.
The Fat Cat (Quincy): I gave the Cat a major shout out in a past blog and after a second visit am confident that this restaurant tucked behind the Quincy Courthouse is a hidden gem. Lobster mac 'n cheese = gluttonous heaven.
Bon Vivant Wine (Randolph): When it comes to wine, I want the very best that money can buy (as long as the best doesn't cost more than $10-$15 per bottle). The ladies at Bon Vivant patiently listened to my long laundry list of what I feel a wine should taste like before hitting the nail on the head by suggesting a South African Bukketrause and Argentinian Malbec. If you're up for something a bit more daring that your run-of-the-mill Yellow Tails and Mondavis, be sure to check out this shop on the Randolph/Milton line.
La Paloma (Quincy): You haven't lived until "mahgaritahs" have been forced upon you at this South Shore landmark. Located in Q-town's Wollaston neighborhood, La Paloma serves up more salsa, guac, and fajitas than you can shake a maraca at. If you're lucky enough to live locally, you can often find their La Paloma brand salsa in Stop & Shop. Buy it. Pahkcah02 would never steer you wrong when it comes to salsa.
Thai Thani (Norwood): If you were to look up the phrase "hole in the wall" in the dictionary, I'm pretty certain that a Thai Thani menu would pop out. There are a trillion Thai restaurants in and around Boston, but none of them serve up a more delicious pad thai than Thai Thani. Their lunch portion is worthy of two tasty meals, and a downright bargain at $6.95.
Cheng Du (Stoughton, Mansfield, and Westboro): If it's considered wrong when a Chinese food restaurant in Stoughton recognizes your number and immediately asks you how your family is (and if you want the usual) then I don't want to be right. Cheng Du is so amazing that I would rather not eat Chinese food at all than risk being disappointed by a place that doesn't have the words "Cheng Du" in their title. Cheng Du doesn't cut corners when it comes to quality, and the proof is in the crab rangoon. Though they are a bit more expensive than their "let's triple fry everything" competitors, you'll definitely taste the difference. For a bit of Cheng Du variety, be sure to check out their weekday $7.95 lunch buffet if you find yourself in the (781) vicinity.
Westgate Lanes (Brockton): Ok, let's be clear here people - this is New England, and in New England we play candlepin. Period. None of that big ball (10 pin) crap for us. There isn't a child who grew up in greater Brockton in the 70's and 80's who hasn't attended at least one birthday party at Westgate. Now that we're adults (and Brockton *finally* allows beer in the lanes) we can relive our childhoods by pretending that we're trying out for a spot on next Saturday's Stars and Strikes.
Crescent Ridge (Sharon): If the haters on the North Shore love to brag about Richardson's, it's only because they haven't cow tipped at the 'Ridge. Yes, I'll admit that I was disappointed when I learned that their ice cream comes from a farm in Vermont (the cows that dot the property are yearlings, and incapable of producing milk), but that doesn't stop the locals from queuing up 20 deep on a hot summer night. The Crescent Ridge also earns marks as one of the last local dairies in America to still offer home delivery service.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
It's 1997....time to brush up on HTML
Back in high school, I was a wicked big computer geek. My addiction to old school computer languages (BASIC, C, etc) made my current Crackberry obsession seem border-line normal. As the Internet started emerge somewhere between my sophomore and junior years, I taught myself HTML which is the Zayde of today's dynamic World Wide Web. Prior to Al Gore inventing the Internet I earned most of my money by falling asleep on random people's couches in front of I Love Lucy (aka: babysitting). Thanks to the 'net I could make $100/hr creating primitive websites at the tender age of 15. Proof positive that high school computer geeks don't get a lot of dates (or in my case, any), but they certainly can afford to buy happiness (or again in my case, lots of ice cream).
Being the hardcore nerd that I was, I coded HTML in Microsoft Text Editor - none of those fancy HTML editors for me! Nowadays most web site offer "one button publishing" (like blogger) which doesn't require the user to know anything more technical beyond pointing, clicking, and typing. It's a heck of a lot easier than the ancient ways of the mid 1990's.
The professional pahkcah02 is in the middle of setting up a dinner in NY with a pretty impressive guest list. Despite the fact that I rarely showed up to my Marketing 301 class, I am the newly annointed VP of Sales and Marketing for my company. As a sales person I hate details, so I figured that the "marketing" bit was an impressive way to boost my ego (not like it needs much boosting). However, the joke is on me since I have to create an invitation for this event using e-mail embedded HTML. My skillz' are kind of rusty so it's definitely going to take me a while to figure out how to do it all again. I'm hoping to parlay it onto my admin (not sure if she knows HTML). Otherwise, anyone have an extra hour or so? There may be a gallon or two of Crescent Ridge in it for you.
Being the hardcore nerd that I was, I coded HTML in Microsoft Text Editor - none of those fancy HTML editors for me! Nowadays most web site offer "one button publishing" (like blogger) which doesn't require the user to know anything more technical beyond pointing, clicking, and typing. It's a heck of a lot easier than the ancient ways of the mid 1990's.
The professional pahkcah02 is in the middle of setting up a dinner in NY with a pretty impressive guest list. Despite the fact that I rarely showed up to my Marketing 301 class, I am the newly annointed VP of Sales and Marketing for my company. As a sales person I hate details, so I figured that the "marketing" bit was an impressive way to boost my ego (not like it needs much boosting). However, the joke is on me since I have to create an invitation for this event using e-mail embedded HTML. My skillz' are kind of rusty so it's definitely going to take me a while to figure out how to do it all again. I'm hoping to parlay it onto my admin (not sure if she knows HTML). Otherwise, anyone have an extra hour or so? There may be a gallon or two of Crescent Ridge in it for you.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
The Legend of (413)
As many of you may know, my twin sister (aka: the Troll for anonymity purposes) lives in Baltimore. Having a twin sister is fantastic. If I were Sarah Palin, I'd bless her little heart. While having a twin has its conveniences (eg: having an automatic organ donor), it's tough having your best friend live 300 miles away. Since she went to college in New York, and NY is literally the half-way point between Baltimore and Boston, we would meet up in NYC post-college.
Lately though it's been tough since most of our NY-based friends have sought (literally) greener pastures. Since we're both around this weekend, we're thinking of doing a road trip in the Pallisades Mall vicinity. We're going to catch a couple of movies, eat sushi, and hang out. I went on Hotwire to figure out the hotel situation and upstate NY is pretty crowded this weekend. Tarrytown is loaded with places to stay but most of them are booked. I'm guessing that this has something to do with the Headless Horseman and Halloween just around the corner.
The Troll suggested that we check out Headless Horseman tourist traps and haunted houses during our trip. That would be cool except I literally lived in a haunted house in Amherst, and I'm pretty scared s**tless of ghosts. I was up at UMass this weekend and casually discussed my fear with some of the houses' current residents and they all agree that there is some weird stuff abrewin' in that place.
To be truthful, the ghosts that lived in my sorority could be categorized as "Caspar, the Friendly Ghost". Our house was built as a boarding house in the late 19th century and had two recorded untimely deaths in the past 100+ years. I've heard dozens of stories of strange occurances, though I personally only had two questionable run-ins.
During my sophomore year I was elected House Manager, which meant that I was responsible for light maintenance and repairs. One night our sub-pump stopped working and I had to gather the girls to bail water from the basement during particularly bad rain storm. Panicked, I rushed upstairs to change into shorts when a cassette tape on top of my stereo flew at my head and took a hard left before hitting my face. Another time I was alone in the house with another sister during spring break when a radio randomly started going off. I ran upstairs and shouted "hey, please turn it down!". Without a soul in the room the volume numbers on the radio decreased and the radio shut off.
A lot of level-headed, sane people I lived with had similiar experiences. While it's possible that there's a logical explaination (eg: electrical issues in an old house), quite a few recalled strange stories involving radios. There are lots of other tales, some involving radios, some involving crucifixes, and others involving goldfish. However, as I only had two unexplainable experiences, I can only comment on those.
People have believed in ghosts for centuries, and like UFO's, there has to be at least a glimmer of truth behind the unsolved mystery. I'm definitely not a conspiracty theorist and believe that for the most part I'm a pretty rational and reasonable person. Although my dream is to some day live in a Victorian, I wouldn't hesitate to put a "ghost clause" into any purchase and sale agreement. Ghost stories are particularly popular during Halloween, and while I welcome the curiousity I am not ok with seeking another ghostly encounter. It may be Tarrytown or bust this weekend, I'm ok with watching the Secret Life of Bees while tourists live out the Legend of Sleepy Hallow.
Lately though it's been tough since most of our NY-based friends have sought (literally) greener pastures. Since we're both around this weekend, we're thinking of doing a road trip in the Pallisades Mall vicinity. We're going to catch a couple of movies, eat sushi, and hang out. I went on Hotwire to figure out the hotel situation and upstate NY is pretty crowded this weekend. Tarrytown is loaded with places to stay but most of them are booked. I'm guessing that this has something to do with the Headless Horseman and Halloween just around the corner.
The Troll suggested that we check out Headless Horseman tourist traps and haunted houses during our trip. That would be cool except I literally lived in a haunted house in Amherst, and I'm pretty scared s**tless of ghosts. I was up at UMass this weekend and casually discussed my fear with some of the houses' current residents and they all agree that there is some weird stuff abrewin' in that place.
To be truthful, the ghosts that lived in my sorority could be categorized as "Caspar, the Friendly Ghost". Our house was built as a boarding house in the late 19th century and had two recorded untimely deaths in the past 100+ years. I've heard dozens of stories of strange occurances, though I personally only had two questionable run-ins.
During my sophomore year I was elected House Manager, which meant that I was responsible for light maintenance and repairs. One night our sub-pump stopped working and I had to gather the girls to bail water from the basement during particularly bad rain storm. Panicked, I rushed upstairs to change into shorts when a cassette tape on top of my stereo flew at my head and took a hard left before hitting my face. Another time I was alone in the house with another sister during spring break when a radio randomly started going off. I ran upstairs and shouted "hey, please turn it down!". Without a soul in the room the volume numbers on the radio decreased and the radio shut off.
A lot of level-headed, sane people I lived with had similiar experiences. While it's possible that there's a logical explaination (eg: electrical issues in an old house), quite a few recalled strange stories involving radios. There are lots of other tales, some involving radios, some involving crucifixes, and others involving goldfish. However, as I only had two unexplainable experiences, I can only comment on those.
People have believed in ghosts for centuries, and like UFO's, there has to be at least a glimmer of truth behind the unsolved mystery. I'm definitely not a conspiracty theorist and believe that for the most part I'm a pretty rational and reasonable person. Although my dream is to some day live in a Victorian, I wouldn't hesitate to put a "ghost clause" into any purchase and sale agreement. Ghost stories are particularly popular during Halloween, and while I welcome the curiousity I am not ok with seeking another ghostly encounter. It may be Tarrytown or bust this weekend, I'm ok with watching the Secret Life of Bees while tourists live out the Legend of Sleepy Hallow.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
During one summer of my childhood, my father's client invited the entire family to visit him on his estate on Nantucket. At the time his client was the founder and CEO of a Fortune 500 company. As a successful businessman he could afford to spend his summers holed up on his yacht while spoiling his guests with lavish guesthouses, fishing trips, and clambakes. A few years later his company ran into financial trouble and was forced to lay off employees. Despite the fact that he had acquired large amounts of personal wealth, he sold his yacht and private jet. As a man of conscience, he didn't feel that it was right to tell an employee that they were out of a job while he spent the summer on a yacht in Nantucket Harbor.
In order to trim $1B from the FY 09 budget, Governor Patrick has announced that 1,000 of the current 45,000 state employees will be laid off. The Governor has warned that the cuts will be deep, but don't expect him to pull a Palin and auction off those $40,000 window treatments on eBay just yet. While I'm sure that some of the jobs being cut may be justified, telling 1,000 Massachusetts employees that they are out of a job right before the holidays is just bad form. Especially if you're still driving around in a $700/month Cadillac courtesy of taxpayers.
How about 86ing the Caddy in favor of a Lincoln? Or shuttering the new trade offices in Shangahi? Or better yet, how about we stop using state funds to pay for local projects (eg: the demolition of Canton Center)? Instead of symbolically cutting back by halting unnecessary state sponsored junkets and conferences, the Governor is going to toss 1,000 state employees into unemployment pool. It's behavior more typical of an AIG executive than a man who swore to work for the people of Massachusetts.
Take a lesson from CEO's before you, Gov, and realize that your actions mean something. I can hardly wait until the '10 elections. If I have my way, Governor Patrick will be joining ranks with the 1,000 ex-state employees.
In order to trim $1B from the FY 09 budget, Governor Patrick has announced that 1,000 of the current 45,000 state employees will be laid off. The Governor has warned that the cuts will be deep, but don't expect him to pull a Palin and auction off those $40,000 window treatments on eBay just yet. While I'm sure that some of the jobs being cut may be justified, telling 1,000 Massachusetts employees that they are out of a job right before the holidays is just bad form. Especially if you're still driving around in a $700/month Cadillac courtesy of taxpayers.
How about 86ing the Caddy in favor of a Lincoln? Or shuttering the new trade offices in Shangahi? Or better yet, how about we stop using state funds to pay for local projects (eg: the demolition of Canton Center)? Instead of symbolically cutting back by halting unnecessary state sponsored junkets and conferences, the Governor is going to toss 1,000 state employees into unemployment pool. It's behavior more typical of an AIG executive than a man who swore to work for the people of Massachusetts.
Take a lesson from CEO's before you, Gov, and realize that your actions mean something. I can hardly wait until the '10 elections. If I have my way, Governor Patrick will be joining ranks with the 1,000 ex-state employees.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Vote Early and Vote Often
If you've recently changed your address, today is the last day to register to vote in the November 4 Presidential election. To register in your new precinct, download this form and get it postmarked before 5pm.
In other election news, Stephen "don't call me Steve" Harper was re-elected as Canadian PM yesterday. Proof positive that today is another glorious day to be a Conservative.
In other election news, Stephen "don't call me Steve" Harper was re-elected as Canadian PM yesterday. Proof positive that today is another glorious day to be a Conservative.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Represent!
The Massachusetts 351 bloggers are a husband and wife team who are dedicated to visiting and blogging about about every town and city in our great state. Their latest entry is a shout out to my hometown, Stoughton MA. Even I learned a thing or two from reading their fabulous post.
Southern New England Tour Guide (Or Why It's Never a Good Idea to Drink in Hartford at 3pm on a Monday Afternoon)
Even though I work out of my house when I'm not travelling, my company is a real business with a "headquarters" office and everything. Since most of my colleagues live outside of New York City, we rarely have company wide meetings that require us to travel to the main office in the Stamford area. There's about 150 glorious miles of I-95 between my house and Stamford, most of which stretches through some of the worst commutes in the country. Rather than listen to an endless loop of Pink and Kanye on KC101 while gridlocked in New Haven, I usually use company meetings as an excuse to drop in on my friend T in Hartford.
Hartford is one of those cities that has way worse of a rep than it actually is. I mean, if you blind folded someone and dropped them off in the Capitol area and asked them to guess where they were, they would never in a billion years guess that they were in Hartford. Hartford is the Insurance Capitol of the World, which means that if there wasn't a mad rush back to West Hartford and Glastonbury during the 5 o'clock dash, there'd be a good chance that you'd meet someone with a good job at a bar.
The streets of Hartford after work are pretty desolate, which is truly a shame since unlike Massachusetts, Happy Hour is alive and well in the Constitution State. T and I met up with her friend at Bin 228 on Pearl Street a wine/bistro that offered bottles of wine at half price until 7pm. I cleared the tab at the next bar (an upscale Irish pub) and couldn't figure out if my scotch had just hit me really funny of if the bar tender had made a mistake - a Blue Moon, a Grey Goose and Tonic, and a Glenlivet rang in at $17. I didn't drink much at the next bar (driving) but they were also offering half price bottles of wine for the entire evening.
If you're young and single, you probably won't meet anyone under the age of 200 at any bar in Hartford. However, the locals are friendly enough. One very inebriated guy in his early 60's walked up to us with his a plate of cheesecake pickings and asked us if we wanted it. I can't say that's ever happened to me in Boston but it was certainly a warm (and gross, unsanitary) gesture.
Meanwhile the Red Sox were getting crushed, though nobody at any of the bars seemed even remotely aware of this fact. As T and her friend walked me back to my car (plenty of free street parking!), T stopped to remind me that we were in the "bad" part of Hartford. After quickly replying "Seriously? How can you tell?" I looked around and realized that the area wasn't any better or worse the Broadway section of South Boston.
Hartford is hardly a vacation destination, but if you're stuck there for work or pleasure rest assured that it's seriously not that bad. It doesn't have the charm of Boston or the attitude of New York, but you can eat, drink, and play without breaking the bank (or possibly getting shot). Best of all, when things get dicey you can click your heels and be on your merry way to Boston in under 90 minutes.
Hartford is one of those cities that has way worse of a rep than it actually is. I mean, if you blind folded someone and dropped them off in the Capitol area and asked them to guess where they were, they would never in a billion years guess that they were in Hartford. Hartford is the Insurance Capitol of the World, which means that if there wasn't a mad rush back to West Hartford and Glastonbury during the 5 o'clock dash, there'd be a good chance that you'd meet someone with a good job at a bar.
The streets of Hartford after work are pretty desolate, which is truly a shame since unlike Massachusetts, Happy Hour is alive and well in the Constitution State. T and I met up with her friend at Bin 228 on Pearl Street a wine/bistro that offered bottles of wine at half price until 7pm. I cleared the tab at the next bar (an upscale Irish pub) and couldn't figure out if my scotch had just hit me really funny of if the bar tender had made a mistake - a Blue Moon, a Grey Goose and Tonic, and a Glenlivet rang in at $17. I didn't drink much at the next bar (driving) but they were also offering half price bottles of wine for the entire evening.
If you're young and single, you probably won't meet anyone under the age of 200 at any bar in Hartford. However, the locals are friendly enough. One very inebriated guy in his early 60's walked up to us with his a plate of cheesecake pickings and asked us if we wanted it. I can't say that's ever happened to me in Boston but it was certainly a warm (and gross, unsanitary) gesture.
Meanwhile the Red Sox were getting crushed, though nobody at any of the bars seemed even remotely aware of this fact. As T and her friend walked me back to my car (plenty of free street parking!), T stopped to remind me that we were in the "bad" part of Hartford. After quickly replying "Seriously? How can you tell?" I looked around and realized that the area wasn't any better or worse the Broadway section of South Boston.
Hartford is hardly a vacation destination, but if you're stuck there for work or pleasure rest assured that it's seriously not that bad. It doesn't have the charm of Boston or the attitude of New York, but you can eat, drink, and play without breaking the bank (or possibly getting shot). Best of all, when things get dicey you can click your heels and be on your merry way to Boston in under 90 minutes.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Save For A Rainy Day (cos it's gonna pour)
President Bush gave a Rose Garden address moments ago to reassure the nation that we can and will get out of this economic crisis. However, since my blog (readership: approximately 10 readers a day) enjoys higher popularity ratings than George W. Bush his speech will be largely ignored. Mark my words, the Dow Jones will continue to fall. In fact, I'm no economist but I wouldn't be surprised if we're looking a DJIA of 7500 by Q1 of 2009.
For the record, while George Bush could've taken a larger role in curtailing this crisis, it is not entirely his fault. It is NOT President Bush's fault that Americans bought houses they couldn't afford on terms they didn't fully understand. Basically what happened was Wall Street wrapped subprime mortgages into bonds with AAA ratings and then sold them to investors all over the world. Meanwhile, they skirted the law by creating credit default swaps, which acted as an insurance policy against these AAA bonds defaulting. However, since the CDS were not labeled as an insurance product, they were not regulated in the same manner. As 6% of American homeowners (and growing!) defaulted on their morgages, the AAA bonds flopped and the CDS weren't there to cover the damages. It's the equivalent of buying a brand new $30,000 car, totalling it, and being told by your insurance company that they are only going to pay you $10,000 for it.
It's easy to get pissed off about irresponsible homeowners and greedy ego-manical tycoons, but your anger will not solve anything. From a personal point of view, the housing boom of the 2000's allowed me to buy my first condo on very favorable terms. 40 years ago there wasn't a bank on the planet who would loan money to a single woman in her 20's who lacked a 20-30% down payment. Unfortunately it only takes a few assholes to ruin it for the rest of us.
This whole boondoogle is going to take months, possibly years, to sort out. There's absolutely nothing you can do to make this problem go away so try to hang in there. Continue to invest in your 401k's and IRA's while stocks are cheap - you may thank yourself in 50 years for doing so. It's also wise to save some money for a rainy day...we're in for a stormy 2009.
For the record, while George Bush could've taken a larger role in curtailing this crisis, it is not entirely his fault. It is NOT President Bush's fault that Americans bought houses they couldn't afford on terms they didn't fully understand. Basically what happened was Wall Street wrapped subprime mortgages into bonds with AAA ratings and then sold them to investors all over the world. Meanwhile, they skirted the law by creating credit default swaps, which acted as an insurance policy against these AAA bonds defaulting. However, since the CDS were not labeled as an insurance product, they were not regulated in the same manner. As 6% of American homeowners (and growing!) defaulted on their morgages, the AAA bonds flopped and the CDS weren't there to cover the damages. It's the equivalent of buying a brand new $30,000 car, totalling it, and being told by your insurance company that they are only going to pay you $10,000 for it.
It's easy to get pissed off about irresponsible homeowners and greedy ego-manical tycoons, but your anger will not solve anything. From a personal point of view, the housing boom of the 2000's allowed me to buy my first condo on very favorable terms. 40 years ago there wasn't a bank on the planet who would loan money to a single woman in her 20's who lacked a 20-30% down payment. Unfortunately it only takes a few assholes to ruin it for the rest of us.
This whole boondoogle is going to take months, possibly years, to sort out. There's absolutely nothing you can do to make this problem go away so try to hang in there. Continue to invest in your 401k's and IRA's while stocks are cheap - you may thank yourself in 50 years for doing so. It's also wise to save some money for a rainy day...we're in for a stormy 2009.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Nothing Beats the Heat
The price of home heating is expected to ring in at $2400 for the average home this winter. Since I've never seen an oil or gas bill, I assume that I have electric heat through NStar. My condo is only about 760 sq feet with indoor hallways and a brick exterior so it rarely gets cold enough in my unit to justify running the heat for more than a few hours a day.
I work all day out of my home so I don't have the pleasure of keeping warm on the company's dime. Even though my unit uses electric baseboard heat, my monthly winter electric bills have never broken $120. Obviously not every family lives in a one bedroom garden style condo so I'm curious if the $2400 figure is accurate for most people.
What does the average person in greater Boston spend on heat? Do you find any one method (oil, gas, electric, wood stove, pellets, etc) more effective than another?
I work all day out of my home so I don't have the pleasure of keeping warm on the company's dime. Even though my unit uses electric baseboard heat, my monthly winter electric bills have never broken $120. Obviously not every family lives in a one bedroom garden style condo so I'm curious if the $2400 figure is accurate for most people.
What does the average person in greater Boston spend on heat? Do you find any one method (oil, gas, electric, wood stove, pellets, etc) more effective than another?
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Sins of the Uncle
The Jewish New Year is a time to reflect and consider the actions we have taken over the past 365 days. The Bible and our morals tell us that we should strive to be good people all the time, whether it's convenient or not. I'm not sure if there was some sort of memo, but a lot of rabbis used this week's events on Wall Street to reinforce why it's important to be an upstanding and moral person. My rabbi in Stoughton reminded us of the deeds of Aaron Feuerstein, the CEO of Malden Mills. When a fire destroyed his Massachsetts textile plant in 1995, Feuerstein took the moral high ground and paid his 3,000 employees their regular wages until a new plant could be built.
My sister's rabbi in Baltimore took a slightly different approach with his sermon. Rather than reflect on the good deeds of others, he focused on past and present members of the American Jewish community who chose a different path than Mr. Feuerstein. One rogue character he mentioned as an example was a Jewish man from New England named Samuel "the Chief" Levine, a Boston ward boss who worked under Mayor James Curley. Very few Jews under the age of 60 can recall the exploits of Chief Levine, so I was pretty surprised that his notoriety extended all the way down to Baltimore.
Chief Levine was my great-uncle, though I never had the chance to actually meet him. My grandfather rarely spoke of him, so most of the information I have on Chief is from what I read in a book called The Death of an American Jewish Community. Before World War II, Mattapan, Dorchester, Roxbury was almost predominately Jewish, with the rest of the population living in pockets throughout the North End and what used to be the East End (now Government Center). As different ethnic groups clamored for power over City Hall, Chief Levine was assigned to gather votes for the city's elite. He worked closely with Mayor Curley, a mayor so corrupt that he was and still is the only American mayor to ever have been re-elected from a jail cell.
During the weeks before Passover, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, the Chief and his fellow Brunswick Club members served Jewish shops along Blue Hill Avenue with a nonnegotiable list of the items needed to provide festive holiday baskets for the needy of all races. When the burly Chief told a local butcher than an eighteen-pound turkey would greatly enhance the holiday season for a local family, he didn't mean fourteen pounds and he didn't mean maybe....
....Votes cost me money and they cost me favors. I got jobs. I got housing. I got anything they asked me for. I expected the same in return. If Chief Levine told them to vote for Mickey Mouse, then they voted for Mickey Mouse. I paid for and was accorded that kind of loyalty. - page 29, Death of an American Jewish Community
So was Chief Levine a bad guy? From what I've read and heard about him, I would categorize him as a somewhat shady character whose intentions were good. Politics from the immigration wave of 1880 up until the Second World War were rife of stories of corruption and bribery. Whether it was stuffing the ballot box in Tammany Hall or paying for votes in Boston, men like Chief Levine were iconic of what life was like for first and second generation Americans in the early 20th century.
Chances are that nobody is going to offer you a job or a $20 bill to vote for a particular candidate this November 4, but the legacy of men like the Chief lives on this election season. Whether it's "swiftboating" a particular candidate or union-backed politican caving on a particular issue, justice and morals continue to rest squarely on the conscience of the American voter.
In an ideal world we would all strive to live by the actions of people like Aaron Feurenstein. However, as mere mortals we will all cave into our own self-interests during bouts of weakness. It's easy to get swept up with modern day Chief Levines, who convince us that it's more rewarding to go with the flow than to swim against the stream. The Jewish New Year gives us a time to wipe the slate clean and to live the types of lives that we were born to lead. Whether you choose to be a Levine or a Feurenstein or a combination thereof is completely up to you.
My sister's rabbi in Baltimore took a slightly different approach with his sermon. Rather than reflect on the good deeds of others, he focused on past and present members of the American Jewish community who chose a different path than Mr. Feuerstein. One rogue character he mentioned as an example was a Jewish man from New England named Samuel "the Chief" Levine, a Boston ward boss who worked under Mayor James Curley. Very few Jews under the age of 60 can recall the exploits of Chief Levine, so I was pretty surprised that his notoriety extended all the way down to Baltimore.
Chief Levine was my great-uncle, though I never had the chance to actually meet him. My grandfather rarely spoke of him, so most of the information I have on Chief is from what I read in a book called The Death of an American Jewish Community. Before World War II, Mattapan, Dorchester, Roxbury was almost predominately Jewish, with the rest of the population living in pockets throughout the North End and what used to be the East End (now Government Center). As different ethnic groups clamored for power over City Hall, Chief Levine was assigned to gather votes for the city's elite. He worked closely with Mayor Curley, a mayor so corrupt that he was and still is the only American mayor to ever have been re-elected from a jail cell.
During the weeks before Passover, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, the Chief and his fellow Brunswick Club members served Jewish shops along Blue Hill Avenue with a nonnegotiable list of the items needed to provide festive holiday baskets for the needy of all races. When the burly Chief told a local butcher than an eighteen-pound turkey would greatly enhance the holiday season for a local family, he didn't mean fourteen pounds and he didn't mean maybe....
....Votes cost me money and they cost me favors. I got jobs. I got housing. I got anything they asked me for. I expected the same in return. If Chief Levine told them to vote for Mickey Mouse, then they voted for Mickey Mouse. I paid for and was accorded that kind of loyalty. - page 29, Death of an American Jewish Community
So was Chief Levine a bad guy? From what I've read and heard about him, I would categorize him as a somewhat shady character whose intentions were good. Politics from the immigration wave of 1880 up until the Second World War were rife of stories of corruption and bribery. Whether it was stuffing the ballot box in Tammany Hall or paying for votes in Boston, men like Chief Levine were iconic of what life was like for first and second generation Americans in the early 20th century.
Chances are that nobody is going to offer you a job or a $20 bill to vote for a particular candidate this November 4, but the legacy of men like the Chief lives on this election season. Whether it's "swiftboating" a particular candidate or union-backed politican caving on a particular issue, justice and morals continue to rest squarely on the conscience of the American voter.
In an ideal world we would all strive to live by the actions of people like Aaron Feurenstein. However, as mere mortals we will all cave into our own self-interests during bouts of weakness. It's easy to get swept up with modern day Chief Levines, who convince us that it's more rewarding to go with the flow than to swim against the stream. The Jewish New Year gives us a time to wipe the slate clean and to live the types of lives that we were born to lead. Whether you choose to be a Levine or a Feurenstein or a combination thereof is completely up to you.
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