The Hungry Hungry Writer

I just watched the movie, Freedom Writers. It’s a really good movie. And it motivated me to write. So here it is.

Off the top of my head and to the tips of my fingers, here’s a story that I am working on. Forgive the errors - It’s some free form story stuff with no thought except for some ideas that I have yet to get on paper… You’ll get what you get… And you’ll be the first to read an excerpt of, “Culture Shock” the first draft, and as Anne Lamott calls it, ‘the shitty first draft’.

Culture Shock – by Glenn Magas.

Dennis slammed the shot glass on the table. Two down, three to go. He always had three shots of Grey Goose Vodka before venturing out into the jungle of forty-somethings on the dance floor. It was a West Los Angeles hot spot and if you were a single man, you were pretty much guaranteed a hook-up. At least for the night.

Match dot com never amounted to anything except a fling or two but his insecurities after meeting face to face overwhelmed him. The girls would see right through him he thought. Emails were different. You could be who you wanted to be. But up front and personal, you were who you were. After disastrous ‘meets’, he decided that three shots of vodka and a singles bar were his drug, and dating scene, of choice.

Thursday nights were big: Mini skirt night. Wear a mini and you get in for free. That led to a ton of long legged beauties showing off their ‘goods’ to those willing to buy. The only problem was, would they accept his offer?

The last shot went down easier than the first. The heart pounding music drowned his insecurities a bit, it loosened inhibitions, and he went into the fray, dancing with everyone and anyone. It was a wild party of shared perspiration and throbbing ‘hormones.’

The inner torment he dragged around with him from day to day started ten years ago when, as he would call himself, he was just a boy. Thirty years was far from being a boy, but to him, his naïve view of the world and the shelter he built around himself kept him from being the street-wise ‘man’ he is now. If you’d ask, he’d simply say, “I’ve come a long way since then.”

In his late twenties, he, stuck in front of his computer, would buy and sell stock. The market was perfect for day trading and he grabbed on and tried his hand. It was a way to make money, stay away from socialization, and soon became an addiction.

He didn’t like addictions. But as the money filled his pockets, he decided one addiction wasn’t bad. Two would be hard to manage. Three addictions would ruin your life. But one? It was just a means to an end and he’d turn it at will. He was proud of his self-control.

He watched his daily income grow from a few measly bucks to literally, thousands a day. He spent every waking moment guessing and second-guessing each fund, each stock and each potential earning, that he didn’t have time for the outside world. He ate, drank, slept the stock market. His best investment, he would tell his online friend, “Squigly Lines”, was investing in a three month DVD course on how to beat the stock market. It was the ‘sure thing’. Little did he know, the ‘sure thing’ would net him more sleepless nights and more time in front of his computer.

It finally paid off. His investments, his diversification of each and every penny worked itself into a bountiful basket of financial security. For years he put it away and let each dollar grow on itself, like weeds spreading, his money filled bank accounts, savings, certificate of deposits, money markets and his wealth created more wealth.

He didn’t have hobbies to splurge on. He didn’t eat the finer things. He didn’t even live in a mansion but in the same old beat up apartment with paint peeling off the ceiling and walls so thin you could hear the neighbor’s annoying, yet tantalizing moans and groans.

Sometimes at night he would lay awake and envy the young Cuban couple across the paper thin wall. The moans, the groans and the seductive noises of ecstasy were like late night entertainment to him. He came to the conclusion that Cuban’s must be wild in bed. On occasion he’d catch a glimpse of the Cuban girl outside his window. She was petite with bright red hair and long, painted finger nails.

She was probably a secretary of some sort. A construction company probably hired her to work in their trailer by the construction site. He didn’t know for sure, but that’s what he imagined. He’d create the person’s life in his head as he was more prone to create someone’s life instead of finding out for himself. He’d lay in bed thinking of the red headed Cuban girl as he heard her scream for ‘more’.

But by 4AM all those thoughts would be forgotten because he was ready at his computer, waiting for the stock market to open in New York. He was always an hour early, with a coffee at his side - reading the trades, Money Magazine, Fortune and other journals to relieve his insecurities on making the right choice or not.

By thirty years of age he was a self-made millionaire with a poor man’s shirt on his back and a 1980 hand me down Toyota Celica. It was the only thing left to him by his mom. It was her only possession. And it was in her will.

One night the screams of ecstasy finally got him. It stirred his need for love. Or lust. And although adult websites on the internet satisfied immediate needs, he needed something long term. And that’s when he found a website that would match you with the perfect woman. A woman, for the very cheap price of $5,000, would marry you. All you had to do was fly to the Philippines, meet the woman, get married and take her back with you.

And these weren’t just run-of-the mill, homely looking women from the farms lands of the Philippines - they were model types. Beautiful Filipinas with successful familes. They just couldn’t find, ‘the right man.’

It was here, online, where he met Menchie, ‘the love of his life.’

Menchie thought he was ‘the right man.’

She would send him pictures of herself on every Tuesday and Friday. She’d write to him about dreams and ambition. The only thing missing was the perfect man, and Dennis was that man.

He couldn’t wait to meet her.

He booked a flight, wired over a $1,000 deposit to the ‘agency’, and dragged his old, worn out Samsonite with a broken lock along with him.

It was hot, humid and midnight when he got off the plane. It seemed that every other minute of the trip he was practically running to the lavatory throwing up. He couldn’t keep the food down, he couldn’t sleep, he was sick. Several rum and coke mixes later in the trip and he was able to doze off in a drunken stupor. But when he woke up an hour before landing, he was sicker than before he got drunk.

The hot, humid Philippine weather didn’t help his fever and he decided to rest on a bench in the airport for a while. How could ‘they’ live in a place like this he thought. It was too damn hot and too damn, well, dirty. But then again, he never ventured outside his home much. With Vons delivering food why would he need to leave?

It wasn’t long before Loaken Airport security ushered him out the doors. He was not prepared for the language barrier. Menchie told him, ‘oh everyone here talks English.’ Well, as he found out, not everyone.

The airlines lost his luggage and all he had was the clothes on his back and a wallet with a couple of thousand dollars in it. He got in the cab and told the driver to take him to Baguio City.

It’s my favorite Holiday!

I hate that the year goes by so damn fast. But the reward is Thanksgiving and Christmas. And Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday by far. Why? Well, I get a 4 day weekend. I get to eat a ton of food for 4 days and a few days after the weekend. There’s wine, there’s turkey, there’s friends and family, maybe a movie will be thrown in, and there are so many things to be thankful for.

This year is different though. We lost a family member.

My uncle died on Saturday just after sunset. They speculate he waited till after sunset (his Sabbath) to die. His son (my cousin Elvin) said to him, “It’s okay dad… you can go…” and tears came from my uncle’s closed eyes. It was as if he heard him and us. Then within a few minutes (5:05 PM) he died. It was very sad.

There were over 60+ people at the hospital when he died. People were trying to view him from the outside window. It was standing room only. I counted around 30 of my family just in the room alone as he took his last breath with other cousins rushing to get there.

He was a man of prestige to the community and to friends and family. He was looked up to. He was respected. He was the leader of our family.

This Thanksgiving and the four days off will be filled with remembering my uncle. We can all give thanks to him for being a steadfast leader, someone who would never turn his back on anyone, and someone who respected everyone despite their faults. He loved life. He loved people and above all, he loved his family.

I have so many memories of him and how I wish I got into his mind a little during his later years. I’d love to have his many years of memories. From the Japanese invasion of Philippines in the 1940s during WWII, to the many stories he had as a teacher, pastor, writer, father and the oldest living brother to many brothers and sisters – four sisters here in the states and a brother and sister still in the Philippines. He was like a father to everyone.

He wanted to live till 90. He died at 86.

Needless to say, I am at a loss of words. I am compelled to write so many thoughts. So many thanks to my uncle. So many feelings and emotions about life, death, family, and the pursuit of happiness. My uncle could have given me so much insight if I sought it. I took for granted that he would always be there and at anytime I wanted he’d be ready to answer my questions and give me guidance.

He was the leader of our family. He always led Thanksgiving and Christmas day prayers. Jake asked me as I drove home from the hospital, “Who’s going to pray for us now?” I had no answer.

So it’s Thanksgiving. My uncle died. It’s hard to be thankful on this holiday. But I am.

I am thankful for my uncle and what he meant to this family and what he meant to me.

Thanks Uncle Gely (Hely)…

Thanks for the quarters every Friday…

Thanks for the Thrifty’s ice cream cones…

Thanks for the long boring prayers…

I’ll miss you.

That’s all I have.

My uncle… Ban Alsaybar. Rest in peace.

The other night my son asked me if I was a Ninja. I thought for a second and replied, “If I was one I wouldn’t be able to tell you because being a ninja is supposed to be a secret.”

“You are then!” he proclaimed. “That’s why you said that.” He tends to over analyze sometimes.

“Well, like I said, if I was I couldn’t tell you.”

“I can’t believe that you’re a Ninja and you won’t tell me!”

“I never said I was a Ninja.”

“You’re just trying to trick me with what you said which means you are one!”

It went on and on like that until I added: “Well, if that’s what you think. But think about it - what else am I going to be since I’m not a Jedi anymore?”

He looked at me like, “That makes sense.” And walked away.

I’m not a Ninja. There’s no such thing. I do wield an intimidating light-saber though.

Speaking of Ninja…

For 18 years I was a serious martial artist. Well, it started when I was 18 and ended when I was about 36 years old. I would work out and fight every single night if I could. It was tough after college but I was always training – taking a few weeks breaks here and there but coming back to the dojo and my ‘Master’ or ‘Shihan’ time and time again. Finally, after 18 years, I earned my black belt. Unfortunately it wasn’t from my Shihan but from his very first black belt who studied with him 40 years ago – Sensei Larry Delano administrating the test, witnessed by Sensei Michael Pecina and Grand Master James Ibrao of www.thebelt.com.

Yes, 18 years. It really didn’t matter… most of Shihan’s loyal students were black belt capable fighters when they were simple purple belts (including me). And the ‘loyal’ ones didn’t really care so much about ‘the belt’, they just wanted to learn as much as they could and fight hard every Friday night. The students that were in it for belts usually didn’t last long – and usually went to ‘bigger’ more commercialized schools. No biggy… It just meant we had our Shihan to ourselves more often.

From what I know, Shihan is still teaching in a small school in Eagle Rock. Boy, did he make fighters out of us. We were rough, we were tough and we could fight all night long back at the Atwater Dojo in the 80s! He always had a small school with limited number of students.

In the 80s I always walked into a tournament where the patch I wore on my Gi would already strike fear into opponents. It wasn’t just about scoring points with a side kick or backhand to the face – it was what happened if you got in the way of our sidekicks setup by a backhand to the face. Older martial artists’ who trained under Shihan like Jim Kelly, Joe Lewis, and Bob Wall, made that kick famous back in the 60s and 70s.

It was a different time back then too. It wasn’t about belts, and politics. It was about the art and learning as much as you could learn.

Those were good old times.

My son and daughter want me to teach them Karate. I feel they’d learn more if I teach them – but there are valuable things you can get from being in a class with other kids. I think I can get them on their way to learning the basic techniques and katas and get them ahead of the curve before searching for the right style for them.

To me, that’s still an issue. There has to be a reason why they learn a martial art – and there has to be validity in every move they do. Understanding each move is just as important as performing it. They have to learn Martial Arts as a self-defense, as a disciplined art, and have to be dedicated to it for the art – and not for the belts. But that’s personal. How to ingrain that in anybody is a challenge. The true martial arts practitioners out there don’t care about what color belt they wear, they care about what knowledge they can bring to others.

And if there’s one discipline I’d recommend to anyone, it’s Okinawa Te Karate. The Master, my master, Shihan - Gordon Doversola, taught me for most of those 18 years. I learned a lot about life, health, family, dedication and I respect him tremendously. Look for him. I’m sure he’s still teaching in a small dojo in Eagle Rock. Tell him Glenn sent you. He’ll make a fighter out of you. And maybe you too could be a ninja! Shhh… just don’t tell anybody!

We had a talk with the kids about fire last night. A much overdue talk but with the fires engulfing Southern California, it was due time. We discussed things to do in the house if such an event occurs. We weren’t trying to instill the fear of fire on them, we were trying to impress upon them the importance of doing the smart thing in a fire where safety is first. Some of which is leaving doors closed, feeling for warmth on the door if there is a fire, opening windows to escape and using a whistle to wake us up if need be.

Needless to say it did cause fear. Tears were shed due to the fear of a possible fire but the overall talk did some good… hopefully.

I’d have to say, I’m the most scared of all. Imagining a fire in the house and how the kids deal with it is frightening. Hopefully it will never happen, but if it does, I hope the kids do what’s right and that’s only if we continue to teach them well.

So now we are going to be more fire prepared: rope ladders for the kid’s windows, showing them how to open the windows, knowing the warning signs like fire alarms, smoke and warmth on the door. We want them to really know the emergency steps to keep everyone and themselves safe.

About seventeen years ago, fires engulfed Glendale and threatened many of my friends homes. Both Dale and Dasie’s homes were scorched but not burned down. It literally jumped over Dasie’s house and burned the houses around hers down. Dale’s car was burned and melted, the walls of his house black but it didn’t burn to the ground. Unfortunately, his neighbor’s house did. He just lost his car.

They spent the night at our house that night - just a couple miles away from the fires. I spent the afternoon hosing down the roof top and the back yard but we were fortunate that the fires didn’t come close to us.

My cousin, James and his wife, were on evacuation alert down in San Diego this week. Both their workplaces were closed and they packed their personals and got ready to go at a moments notice. My nephew, Keaton, left college at San Diego State and went home to Sacramento for a couple of days as campus was closed for a week.

But even us, further away from the Malibu or Stephenson’s Ranch or San Bernardino or San Diego fires were affected. Both my kids didn’t have ‘outside playtime’ at school because of the quality of air. On Tuesday it was worse as all of Glendale could smell the fire in the air.

Hopefully our courageous firefighters will contain the fires soon. Hopefully people can get on with their lives. Hopefully those people who lost their homes can start over again despite how hard it will be.

Be safe out there!

Back in 1997 a friend and I thought it would be great to start a website that would provide information on restaurants in the general area. We loved to eat good food as, I would say, everyone else in the world does. So why not produce a website like this, connect with other people across the country, and build a database of restaurants and personal reviews.

Well, my HTML skills weren’t that great at the time and the website I built really didn’t get anywhere but my computer. Since then, a ton of restaurant review websites have popped up which provide a plethora of information. From personal experience to well groomed taste buds discussing spices and unique flavoring.

Ten years later I’m still eating food and loving it. Aren’t you? And if I had the time, I’d build this website with unique ideas (call me and we’ll work on it!). Despite the fact that I’m not running this website I do have the ability to eat at restaurants and share my thoughts in: Tribune-USA or even my Hungry-Hungry-Writer blog.

So here are a few tried and true restaurants on my ‘go-to’ list.

The Yard House – Pasadena, CA
Great food, Classic Rock!
330 East Colorado Blvd. Suite 230
626) 577-9273
This has become Jake’s favorite restaurant. The Penne Chicken Pasta is perfect for two kids to share and Donna and I split a salad and any burger on the menu. On those, ‘I don’t want a burger nights’ I’m happy with any of the appetizers on the menu. My favorite is the Hawaiian Stack (tuna sashimi), Sliders (mini cheeseburgers) and the Crab Cakes. But, the number one reason I like The Yard House is its atmosphere. From Sunday football on the overhead television sets, to the range of classic rock played overhead. Add a glass of ice cold beer from their large collection of beer and it’s the perfect Sunday lunch! Beer of choice – Blue Moon Beer that comes with an orange slice. And right now, get in on the Monday Night Football Happy Hour where you can order appetizers at half off from kick off till the end of the game!

Blue Fish Japanese Restaurant – Montrose, CA
Sushi Restaurant
2261 Honolulu Ave
(818) 248-9700
This has become my favorite Sushi restaurant in the Glendale area. I wrote a full review about it two weeks ago. If you’re a value conscious sushi eater you’ll definitely get your money’s worth! It’s not cheap, but you definitely get your fill of food for the money you spend. Blue Fish has the best Specialty Roll menu in town, the best Gyoza I’ve had at a restaurant, and a kids chicken teriyaki plate that comes in a multi-layer serving saucer - kids will love it! Get there early because any time of the week you’ll find yourself waiting for a table after 6:00 PM. Trust me. It is worth the wait.

Raffi’s Place – Glendale, CA
An Armenian/Persian Cuisine
211 East Broadway
(818) 240-7411
Here’s a place that you can grab an outside table during the day or evening and experience a hidden oasis right in the middle of Glendale! If you were blindfolded and led into Raffi’s Place you wouldn’t know where in Glendale you were at. I love having dinner outside – when it gets cold heat lamps make your dinner comfortable. Raffi’s Place is known for their kabobs but there is more to the menu than that. If you like hummus, you’ll love theirs. My favorite dish is the ground beef (koobideh). The ground chicken plate is also superb. Served with a large portion of buttery white rice (yum!), a grilled tomato and green pepper – it’s the perfect meal for a very hungry person – like me! Try a different beer too! The Kotayk beer is pretty damn good! Be prepared to take leftovers home!

BCD Tofu House – Los Angeles (Korea Town)
A Korean Tofu House
869 S. Western Ave
213-380-3807
There was a time where you’d see me at a BCD Tofu House 3 to 4 times a week; from the Western Ave location to the one in the Valley (Saticoy Street in Reseda). It took me a while to actually fall in love with the Tofu Soup (soon dobu) but once I did I was addicted. I love it extremely spicy and it doesn’t matter if it’s a hot afternoon but it’s even better on a cold winter night which is forthcoming! Before there was soon dobu there was order number 13! A galbi soon dobu combo. Oh my god! It’s perfect as a past midnight dinner or an early afternoon lunch! Each person gets a fried fish (fried joo gea) if you desire, and their side dishes (ban chan) like kimchi, potato salad and pickled cucumbers are great additions to an even tastier meal! Make sure you let them serve you the rice. It’s served in a hot rock pot and they’ll scoop it out into a bowl for you. Be prepared to one, get your fill and two, be there more than once a week! (forgive my Korean dish spellings but I tried)

Wow… I am so hungry just thinking about it. I think I’ll have BCD Tofu House for lunch today as I already had Blue Fish last night! And Raffi’s Place, beware – I’ll be there this weekend for sure!

I was listening to Marc Cohen’s song, “Walking in Memphis” on my iPod this morning. It’s so emotional and so heartfelt I decided to title this entry, “Riding in Glendale.”

Sunday was very emotional for me as a father. It was the day I broke the shelter surrounding my son and I did something I’ve put off for years and years.

Jake is seven years old. And because of my paranoia, because of my insecurities, because of my fear of him getting hurt I put a shelter around him when it comes to riding a bike. Yes, he still has training wheels on his bike. Well, ‘had training wheels’ is more like it.

Sunday morning I was committed. “Today…” I said to myself with the utmost conviction, “…Jake will learn to ride a bike!”

He’s been ready since he was four years old. He’s been ready since he got on a bike to be honest. He rode his scooter at age three, he was on skates (as small as they made them) at age two, and he’s been on training wheels since he was four. For three and a half long years I’ve put off the inevitable. Yes, it was all me. Yes, it was kind of selfish. Yes, it is my fault Jake can’t ride a bike.

I’ve been hit by baseballs. I’ve broken my nose in sparing matches. I’ve been nailed multiple times by paintballs and I’ve sucked it up and have taught him to do the same when it comes to pain. I don’t feel the same about bikes for some reason.

I’ve been hit by a car on my BMX. I’ve taken falls off of jumps on the BMX track that would send most people to the hospital. I’ve made tight turns on slick cement with my BMX tires where the bike would just slip from under me and I’ve slammed my head against concrete – without a helmet!

I’ve lost control down a mountain with my mountain bike, barely jumping off the bike as I watched it bounce its way down the edge of a mountain. I’ve had to climb back up with it - bloody and gashed. I’ve taken falls off jumps so bad that I’d bend my seat post, broken my handle bars and hurt both shoulders, my back and my ribs.

So yeah. If he’s anything like me – he’ll do the same. And he’s a lot like me. So if I could shelter him from these dangers, I guess I should right?

Wrong.

How do you deprive a kid from ‘free-wheeling’ his way down the street when it’s every kid’s right to feel the air in his face, the wind at his back, and the freedom of two wheels underneath him?

I brought the wrench out of the toolbox. I took the training wheels off his bike. He watched nervously as I pumped up the tires.

And when we took our first few feet up the sidewalk my stomach sank as he asked, “You’re not going to let go right?”

I didn’t want to let go. But I replied, “When you’re ready.”

He felt heavy under my guided hand. He was leaning right most of the time and I held him up. We gathered a little speed and I kept reminding him to look ahead and not down. I loosened my parental grip so-to-speak and he veered, got scared and tipped over awkwardly onto the grass.

I helped him up and watched him fall three or four more times into the grass – scratches on his knee, frustration in his eyes, and the words, “I can’t do it” finally came out of his mouth.

“Yes you can. One more time.” We weren’t going back into the house till he got this down.

Then the moment of truth came. We were moving quickly down the sidewalk and I felt he found the balance. I could tell. I was holding lightly, letting him lean on my hand if need be but he was ready. And just as I was about to let of my precious son, out of his mouth came, “Okay papa let go!”

And I did. And I watched him, wobble left. I watched him wobble right. I watched him try desperately to balance and pedal at the same time. He kept going and going and going. Then he veered into the grass again and fell!

I ran down to him as he got up. He was checking the scratches on his knee. And with teary eyes he said with a smile, “I did it!”

“Want to do it again?”

And as all of us know, those of us who ride bikes that is, once you get it you get it. You’ll never forget: the feeling of balance, the feeling of riding free. The feeling of well… the wonderful feeling of riding a bike!

He put on his jet-black helmet and he - jumped on the bike. Started off at the base of the driveway - under the Sunday sun. Biking Gods oh please - won’t you look down over him. Yeah, he had a first class teacher - but was as scared as a boy could be. Then he was riding in Glendale! He was riding with his wheels ten feet off the street. Riding in Glendale! But does he feel the way I feel? (sing that to the beginning of ‘Walking on Memphis’. Nice huh? LOL)

I was so emotional. Teary eyed. Happy. Proud. Scared. Cutting apron strings is tough ain’t it?

He can swim. He can ride a bike. He can run. What next? Father and son Triathlon?

We’ll keep it in the pool of course. There’s no way I’m going to send him out into the ocean. That shelter is still good and strong!

You go, son! Ride… BUT NOT TOO FAST!!!!!!

Side note: Isabella was so inspired she got off her tricycle and asked for Jake’s smaller training bike in the garage. And let me tell you – she’ll be freewheeling sooner than I want.

I was starving. It was almost 7:00 PM and way past my dinner time. So here is Blue Fish Sushi on Honolulu in Montrose, CA. It’s a small sushi restaurant in the middle of the Honolulu strip. I’ve eaten there before and thought it was decent. But, like several of my friends have said, the service is horrible. I have to agree – on past experience that is. I decided to give it one more chance.

I called Donna and asked her to meet me at the restaurant. It was a nice warm evening so we decided to sit at the outdoor tables.

From what I remember: the food was pricey, the service extremely slow, and the sushi was, well, just run of the mill type sushi. It was ‘no big deal.’ I wasn’t expecting anything better than what it was before.

Well, I ordered a couple of specialty rolls and a couple pieces of sushi and could not believe my eyes when they served the food. First and foremost - there was so much food in front of me I was shocked! Secondly, the presentation was like a piece of art at a gallery in Beverly Hills! Normally, this order would be a good meal at any other ‘ordinary’ sushi restaurant, but here, in front of me was a feast fit (and designed) for kings… or Samurai! And finally – the service was better than it was before! Yes it’s true.

But the true test would be quality and taste… Okay, I can’t hold back on how I felt about it. So here it is… This is THE BEST sushi restaurant in the Glendale area. This is THE BEST sushi restaurant I’ve ever been to in the Los Angeles area!

I couldn’t finish my meal. I was stuffed. The rolls were unique, creative, had tons of flavor and as I mentioned before, pieces of art. I savored every bite. It was heaven.

Two days later I was at Blue Fish Sushi again. In fact, I have brought two other people to the restaurant and have eaten there six times in two weeks!

It has taken a hit on the pocket book but what I tell everyone: you get MORE than your money’s worth at Blue Fish. They have all agreed on my assessment.

What a drastic change on my thoughts about this restaurant. The service was actually pretty good. They even know to bring extra tofu for the Miso soup for my daughter without me asking! The food was A+ quality and absolutely delectable. And the price is reasonable considering the amount of food they give you.

They have, by far, the best Sushi Specialty Roll menu in the area. They have the best Gyoza I’ve eaten at a restaurant as well. The kids menu provides a teriyaki plate lunch served in a cute multi-layered container that the kids would love to have at home.

I’m determined to try all the specialty rolls on the menu. I order two every time and am finding my absolute favorites. My top three are: Tiger Roll, Vegas Roll, and the Lady Bug roll. Two other rolls that are filler ups are: Popcorn Lobster roll and Dynamite Roll. Then here are my runner up favorites: Honolulu Roll, Alaska Roll, Monkey Brain Roll, Baked Salmon Roll, and the Black Dragon Roll.

So do yourself a favor. Treat yourself to a night of good food, good atmosphere and indulge!

I’d love to keep this place the secret sushi restaurant hidden in a small street just North of Glendale. But beware! Get there early because the secret is out. The place is packed after 6:00 PM!

Good eats!

Blue Fish Japanese Restaurant
2261 Honolulu Avenue
Montrose, CA 91020
Phone: (818) 248-9700

Despite the fact that MY Los Angeles Dodgers faded and never looked like the team that was supposed to win the West, we have a one game playoff between the Padres and the Rockies tonight – Monday.

This past week of baseball has been one of the best runs for the playoffs in history! Wild Card positions changed hands more frequently than a two horse match race! The Phillies final took over top spot on the last day of the regular season as they watched the worst melt down in Mets history unfold. The Padres, in control of their own destiny, lost to a team that isn’t even in the playoffs. The Yankees came 2 games of winning the division and we have a playoff matchup with the Angels and RedSox can’t seem to win on the other team’s stadium – advantage BoSox.

Now it’s all down to one game for the last playoff spot in the 2007 season.

The Rockies beat the divison winner, Arizona Diamondbacks - a playoff team! The Padres lost to a team that isn’t in the playoffs and really, what do they have to really show for themselves. Just Jake Peavy who is pitching tonight which means he can’t start the playoffs. That is if they make the playoffs.

And it was in Arizona’s best interest to win their last game. What’s worse than going into a one game playoff where the season comes down to an extra game is a team losing as they go into the playoffs.

Momentum – momentum and more momentum! It’s who’s hot at the right time and the time is now.

If San Diego pulls off a win, which I doubt, they aren’t going to beat a charged up Phillies team.

But who am I going to root for tonight? I’m a Western Division fan, of course. And if the Dodgers aren’t in it, you have to root on the least of all evils. And Colorado is far from evil. They aren’t much of anything except the team that saw Nomo pitch a shutout on a cold Saturday afternoon in the rain. They are a team of… well… far from destiny. They bring top pitchers in to their team only to watch them unravel in what is one of the worst pitchers parks in the Major Leagues.

I mean, if the Dodgers aren’t in it I will root for teams in this order to succeed. Rockies, Arizona, Padres and Giants… I take that back. I WILL NEVER ROOT FOR THE GIANTS EVER! If they are the Western Division representatives, I’m rooting for the Central or East or even, ugh, the American League. Yuck.

So go Rockies! Go Wild Colorado! Show them what ya got… Then… lose to the Cubs.

So there you have it. Go Cubs! Go Auntie Jenny’s team! Get rid of the curse once and for all!

I love baseball. Oh how I love baseball.

And, for the record, I did not win my fantasy baseball league. I was on the verge going into the last few days with a pretty big lead… but I lost it all on pitching and some great performances by my opponent.

So I made the championships. But I came in 2nd. Which is nothing. I WANT TO WIN MY BASEBALL FANTASY LEAGUE!!!

I may have to join like 3 or 4 next year.

That being said… Go Dodgers in 2008!

3:45 PM traffic was what I was dealing with. I was going from bumper to bumper on my grueling trek home. I had almost been sideswiped, slammed in the rear, and cut off all within a couple of minutes and less than a mile of travel.

I was looking forward to hitting some golf balls at the range. I was looking forward to having a great birthday dinner for my wife. I was looking forward to kicking back on my recliner with the Golf Channel on. Things like that get me to and from work and home with sanity.

I wasn’t loosing it, but I was on the verge of road rage when the phone rang. It was a restricted number. This meant a few things to me: It was the dentist trying to get me to the office, it was Dale forgetting to unblock his call or it was someone at my sister’s house.

I don’t like the dentist. So I hate answering the phone when it is a ‘restricted’ number. Dale is required to unblock his phone or I ignore the call because, well, it might be the dentist office… or my boss… so I won’t answer it. It was the high possibility that it was my sister’s house with dinner suggestions from my wife.

“Hello?” I answered reluctantly.

There was silence on the other end. And just when I was about to say it again I heard the sweetest, softest, most pleasing voice say, “Papa?” as if unsure of whom she was speaking to. It was Isabella.

I answered, “Yes?”

Her tiny, sweet, four year old voice sang three words that melted my heart despite the boiling point I was reaching, “I love you.”

Tell me: can life get any better than this? A bad shot at golf, a horrible day at work, bumper to bumper traffic, the Dodgers screwing up the 2007 year season all these weights on your shoulder that just bring you down, lower and lower to the ‘depths of nothingness’ (Gidget Lawrence 1965).

Then you get a call from your baby with, “I love you,” and a ton of bricks on your back feels like white feathers from an angel.

It made my trip home so much more urgent, but so much more pleasant because thoughts of her voice over the phone repeated themselves as I inched mile to mile.

My cousin James wants kids but doesn’t want kids. Yes, he is a walking contradiction. He wants them because he loves children so much and will be a great dad. He doesn’t want kids because he’s scared, unprepared, and maybe financially insecure at the moment: home, parenting skills, fear of the questions kids may ask are all probably a big concern.

But honestly, all you need is to have your baby grab your finger for the first time, or have your toddler wrap their arms around you because they’re scared, or see your son jump for joy because he just sank a 40 foot putt for par, or to hear your child say, “I love you” while you’re stuck in traffic, and you’ll know you’ve made the right choice.

Do you ever find yourself bored and you don’t know what to do about it? I mean, there are so many things to do: responsibilities as an adult, household chores, kids, but none of that feels satisfying enough at the time?

I’ve found that boredom can lead to unhealthy choices. I believe that. I also believe, sometimes you just have to sit there and be bored and choose that unhealthy choice.

I’m all for exercise, leading a productive and healthy lifestyle, but I’m also one who believes you just have to kick back on a Sunday afternoon to watch the Dodgers and maybe nap to the soothing voice of Vin Skully calling the game. Another Sunday afternoon thing to do is to watch as many football games with chips, dip and a couple of cold beers. It works when nobody bothers you and you can just stare at the television all day long.

Yeah, I’m completely selling this idea now. Once, every couple of months, during the heat of summer especially, schedule some ‘boring time’. Let your wife know. Send the kids to your sister’s house. Open up the door so a breeze comes in, open the windows so the sun shines through, grab a couple of beers, some chips and dip and watch baseball or a couple of football double headers.

Enjoy it without feeling guilty. That’s the key. Normally these days will take place and you feel guilty because you should be doing something ‘responsible’. Like cleaning the house, taking your kids out to the park, or following your wife around the mall. But just once in a while it’s good to cleanse yourself of so-called ‘responsible - adult things’. Be a vegetable - a couch potato. I mean, you have to go to work the next day anyway and things just get piled up and you are the responsible adult.

My goal here is to teach you that breaking the routine is good for your health. Drinking beer and deep fried chips might not be the best, but once in a while indulge, get lost in the whole event, and enjoy it guilt free.

Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow is the day you get back to the grind. Tomorrow you won’t be bored because you’ll be forced to do what you have to do.

I usually have this ‘to myself sports day’ on Super Bowl Sunday. Usually I can squeeze in one or two hours watching baseball, football or golf but it’s go-go-go in between or after a game. Our lives are so rushed and hectic every day I believe there needs to be those days where it slows down. Where, despite the ton of work to do ‘tomorrow’, you can relax and let it all go.

Okay, this does not mean giving up all ‘adult responsibility’. Getting drunk, passing out on the couch, and not letting the day sink in is not what this is all about. Count the minutes of the day and make them count! Make sure you enjoy by remembering it – recalling that awesome play at the plate, that touchdown pass, or that Eagle from Tiger to win the game!

Then, when it’s all said and done, clean up your sloppy mess, get the running shoes back on and work away that fat you just put on!

Being bored could actually be a productive part of your sanity. Do anything above and I’m sure you’ll be a better person at the end of the day. Or do what I’m doing now. I’m bored. So I wrote about it.