several, and i mean several, people have told me to see y tu mama tambian (most since mulholland drive by the way). and, i've never heard more disparate reasons surrounding such a plug; it's funny, sexy, moving, interesting, beautiful and riddled with flatulance jokes. suffice it to say that all kinds of glowing descriptors were applied to this subtitled foreign flick by all sorts of glowing people. and, after seeing it last night, i agree. i agree with everyone. and would simply add that this was one of the most authentic and sincere portraits i've seen on any topic, time or place since ang lee's ice storm.

so if you haven't yet seen it, allow me to throw my sombrero into the bull ring and suggest you take a whack at this cinematic piñata. and speaking of whacking ... well perhaps you should just see it for yourself.

It is not recommended to walk into jakes crawfish, oregon's number one fish eatery, at 7pm and expect a table in less than an hour. When the hostess said that she could possibly seat me immediately if I didn't mind an outside table, I replied, "if you can put a stuffed salmon in front of me in the next twenty minutes I'd eat it off the floor." Convinced of my zeal I was promptly escorted to a sidewalk table.

For those dining along this row of exterior tables, especially those dining alone, they may elect to pass the time by watching the patrons of the gay bar tounge-kissing and massaging one another's buttocks across the street or taking in the opposing corner which sports a small collection of young, but fashionable, homeless begging money while drinking, the very in, sobe ales and smoking name brand cigarettes. And, If for any reason the humor seems lean in either of these venues, you can watch jake's grunged out valet guys ogling the high dollar patrons exiting their employer's establishment.

And all of this to brie and shrimp stuffed salmon and garlic mashed potatoes. Portland is my friend.

i'm off yet again to the city that turned this 30-something into a fish eater. yep, portland, the oregon variety, not that maine rip-off. and since it's the skiing off-season, i reckon i should get a reasonable amount of work in this time, but there's always powell's bookstore to keep a working stiff sane.

so, updates will be spotty, at best, the rest of the week. i'll see if i can throw you a bone, a skinny salmon bone, at the least before my return.

talk soon.

i have a relatively gnarly bruise on the top of my left hand. it's over my index and middle finger, starts at the knuckle and oblongs its way to the top of my thumb. i like having this bruise just as i like having scabs. it is a sign that something has occurred and therefore something has been done.

while talking to people or riding in the elevator i like to show my bruise to them. not in an obvious and stupid kind of way where i hold up my hand and say "did you see that i have a bruise on my hand," but instead where i bid someone good day while testing my shave by rubbing my crippled hand along my cheek, soiled part facing the audience of course. it then occurs to me that it has probably occurred to them that i not only do not have any facial hair but also look like i couldn't even produce any facial hair which leaves me wondering if they are wondering why the guy standing next to them seems to be making love to his face with his own amorous and apparently broken hand.

i've concluded that this is not the exact impression i'm looking for so i'm back to just holding my hand out and polling the group if they noticed my bruise. most have not, until i hold it up for display at least.

even though these encounters are not my first choice, i'm still oddly stated in the end.

i do not acknowledge valentine's day, as readers of this site must know by now. and after a brief discussion and concession from marty, i do not celebrate father's or mother's day either. conversely, in a discussion with a friend who recently adopted an infant boy, he said he became a parent for one reason; to receive gifts, really cool and numerous gifts. i obviously chortled at this immodest and...

the best voice-mail, conversation or correspondence whatsoever to come out of the cleveland boondoggle (06.07) was easily this email, received from Movie-Girl: back to the drawing board, or perhaps ciphering board in this case.

Hillary Clinton after the hillbilly confessed to his monica transgression, as heard by some staffers

dearmitt.com's most eligible bachelor, the dr of diss, stevie williams himself, is no longer eligible and will shortly no longer be a bachelor, simply leaving the 'most' descriptor to describe him which i think he will retain with little issue. stephen and his bride-almost-to-be floated through town for dinner and stories after visiting his family in walnut grove a few months back. after leaving, and i never told steve this, marty and i compared notes and each voiced that we thought rachel was a bit of blend of marty and i thus allowing her to stroll about as an astoundingly bright and witty and wholly attractive and quintessentially pleasant young lady.

and this engagement holds special import for me because i occasionally feared the worst for stevie ever finding that one right lady given a horrible event which occurred in college. during a night of drunken tomfoolery in the dorms, steve found himself sleeping on an elevator, naked and adorning black permanent marker art on his rear quarters which included several inordinately large daisy's, a farm house in the distance and words defining who was here, and there, and basically just about anywhere an arrow could be drawn. and did i mention that he visited every floor of the tower in this comfortable state before regaining enough wit to return to his own.

at a later point in time i thought steve was drawn to medicine to divine a method of permanently removing the faint remnants of those indelible glyphs from his person. i gather he succeeded in that i don't know anyone would necessarily pursue a relationship with someone who's body logged a preverbal who's who of hudson hall in the 90-91 academic term.

good work steive-poo (and that by the way is what i wrote in elongated cursive on his inner thigh ... although it was two full years after the naked elevator incident).

i send my thoughts to:

the englebrecht family who just lost their home and family dog, bacardi, in a fire.

the smart family of utah who are going through the most horrific experience i can conceive.

and, a.w. who is about to go through a very emotional and difficult time in her life.

and the cadres of humans i don't know who are facing and dealing with adversity and trial the likes of that many of us have never seen. take a moment to wish strength upon them and appreciate how little suck, actual life-defining suck, there is in your life.

did you know that david lynch started making stage productions? did you know that he started using crystal meth, heroin and ecstasy while working? if you did not know these things and would like evidence, i suggest you catch cats.

while i'm going to respect his request for anonymity at this time, buddy james recently found a home on the web doing that whole bloggy thing. on a recent update he was kind enough to recognize your humble host. i'm sure glad michael's name was also in this short list else it would read: influenced by troy and a litany of girl weblogs.



while i personally do not take issue of the noted company in any negative vein and while i'm fine with the amount of grunting and scratching i do, buddy's choice of wording would not serve me well among some of my more testosterone ridden mates. case in point, the other day bookguy and i were going to play tennis and he was displeased with the amount of doddering (his word) i was doing before getting out the door. when i, finally, slid into the seat next to him he looked at me and said: i'd love to know who messed up on the human assembly line and gave you a penis.

what can i write ... reliable help is hard to find.

for Thin When Tan Girl and any other people doubting last friday's itinerary, it was the real deal.

except the 11:00 am item should read 11:09 am because bookguy was off eating a bagel somewhere neglecting the pickup we had agreed to. he could of and should have been on time but he was struggling with his guilt for spending all of his money feeding himself and consequently not hooking his driving compatriot up in any way. fortunately i had some peanuts left from the plane ride i could suck on, to make them last, during the trip as to not go into a low blood sugar state.

so someone told me they did not think yesterday's menu confession was all that crazed, thus negating at least their opinion that i'm bent. given this surprising development, i'm compelled to throw another log on the fire in pursuit of my seemingly simplistic goal.

bookguy is driving from cleveland to st louis today to visit. this morning, while he packs at his home, i will be boarding a plane in saint louis, en route to cleveland. at 10:42 my plane lands. at 11:00 i will climb into bookguy's waiting truck where we will pull onto the highway and begin the 9-hour driving trek to st louis. i've yet to share this plan without the listener looking at me with a wondrous stupor in their eyes, their expression unmistakable. my adoring wife even added an eyeroll for good measure.

now that i possess your attention, please realize that 10, 20 even 30 years from now i will still fondly remember the day i flew to cleveland only to climb into a oversized truck and drive right back to saint louis with my good friend bookguy. should someone ask you a year from now to recall what you did on friday, june 07, 2002, you will most likely not remember this same day with a like vividness, assuming of course you do not have a similar itinerary which i can assure you, you do not.

now don't worry about me, it's not like i'll get sleepy while driving because in this respect bookguy and i are like an old married couple, where i'm not allowed behind the wheel. it's simply understood that bookguy drives and i sit by his side entertaining him all the while. early in our relationship, we used to sit closer, close enough for him to put his arm around me. when i asked him why we don't do that anymore, he replied "i'm still sitting in the same place, you're the one way over there."

perhaps there's good reason he's in the captain's chair and i'm holding the soda.

for those on the get troy committed consortium, allow me to proffer additional evidence. for those participating in the troy is the most anal man on the planet group, allow me conclude your effort. and, for those who like to occasionally dine with walt and i, allow me to remove the mystery of what will be slopped in front of you on any particular evening.

while we each have our own reasons, a few months ago marty and i moved to a monthly menuing system. on marty's part she has been trying to keep our food budget somewhere near the allotted amount. i have been petitioning to know what we are having that night so the ingredients are ready for use (meaning not frozen) and accounted for (meaning not at the store). and, collectively we recognize that it probably isn't ideal to have our family meals at 9:30pm given the little human we are now responsible for. given these factors we now sit down at the end of the month and create a menu for the coming month. rules follow:

1. we alternate who gets to pick the meal from day to day
2. sundays are new dish night
3. mondays are staple night
4. fridays and saturdays are left open
5. tuesday through thursday rotates between rice, meat, fish, pasta and a wild card dish
6. and lastly, should you wish to dine with us, you must tell us before sunday, shopping day, so we may get extra stuff for your gullet. note: steak night works on a strict first call first come basis and if marty doesn't like you, she requires you pay for your own cut so kiss up well.

given this lengthy introduction, i now welcome you to visit the recently completed What I'm Eating section of dearmitt.com.

additional note: only the recipes we deem keepers are committed to the recipe index for your own use and edification.

sorry, you'll have to forgive me because i know it's old news but it happened while i was away and i must speak to the sony music protection debacle (which i was moaning about back on 04.16.02). let me just take a moment to say HAAAA HAAAA AAAAHHH HAAAA HAAAAA (gasp for breath) BAAAA HAAAA AAAAHHH HAAAA HAAAAA.

keep up your ground-breaking and bullet-proof innovations sony because you WILL win. we all know it.

welcome to the comeback tour of 80's phenom troy dearmitt. troy is rejuvenated, recalibrated and the same as before except for being a little older, wider and 60% more owned by the man. what man? that man. the man! you know the one i'm talking about. the one that owns 95% of your man.

regardless, prepare to bombarded with more unsolicited tales of self deprecation, meaningless prattle and social misfittitude, because i've been busy offending the masses in person and without contemplation and now i'm back to share these opinions and experiences with you, my silent but impressionable partner in these crimes.