I Never Look Classy: Part 9: Italian Stallion

Apparantly five stars down here does not equal a great restaurant.

So far I have had a number of fine dining experiences at almost all the establishments we have gone to for food (save for Ichiban. ICHIBAN!!!!). This is not the case with my friends, but I have been content thus far.

Or at least until we ran into an Italian Restaurant yesterday.

I myself had a pretty good bowl of spaghetti with meat sauce. I'm sure that I could have made better tasting pasta back at my house, but the sauce was pretty good.  One thing that did concern me was the lack of knowledge of the ingredients to the food. One amongst our group has a serious food allergy but the staff could not recollect if there was dairy in the pizza dough.

Truth be told, the restaurant wasn't terrible. The service was a bit slow, but that is forgivable (also the wedding soup was amazing). My largest complaint is that I could have made better food at home, cheaper and without a whole lot of effort.

In the local area the restaurant was rated as five out of five stars. I wonder about that.

Rest of the day was reading, watching television and lounging by the pool.

Aww-yeah.

I Never Look Classy: Part 8: Thrift Seizure 2

The day opened up like the part of a movie trailer where there is a giant whooshing lead-up noise right on a scene change and then everything is silent afterwards.

The outlet malls beckoned to us once more and we were powerless to resist.

There is little to say about the Dealz found that day, save for they were numerous and very... Dealzy.

The trunk of our trusty steed was full to the brim with bags.

Also, after a satisfying lunch of pizza from an italian restaurante, we got gelato, which is also awesome.

Swimming in the pool, reading books into the night, arranging for pictures with models.

Brilliant.

I Never Look Classy: Part 7: Burg Notice

Made some burgers, swam in the pool. Watched some Sons of Anarchy and Burn Notice.

33 Degrees and sunny, Amaretto Sours and an afternoon nap.

Awesome.

I Never Look Classy: Part 6: Iguana Mia!

Mexican food and myself have never been the best of friends. Something always seemed "off" about the ingredients and flavours. Whenever we cooked "mexican" food at our house it was always an imitation of the authentic food which, in all honesty, I still love despite the fact it has very little to do with the authentic cuisine. I have since learned what the defect was in all of the Mexican food I had tried.

Canada.

It might be the geographical location which precludes the best ingredients or the lack of cultural knowledge on how to cook the food properly, but it turns out that Mexican food is ten or twenty times better down here in Florida.

Twice we have eaten at a Mexican restaurant, twice I have been blown away by the food.

The most recent of these lunches was yesterday at Iguana Mia. If you are in the area I can't recommend the place strongly enough.

Aside from that its mostly been about watching Burn Notice, relaxing and drinking Amaretto Sours. Tomorrow we're going BACK TO THE FUTURE (where future is defined as the outlet malls) and might hit up the beach.

Meanwhiletime, Cheerio!!

I Never Look Classy: Part 5: Lord, Beard Me Strength

A Saturday. Nothing to do but lounge by the pool.

After a few days I decided to shave the beard. We have the stages between beard and clean shaven here. Please, leave your zingers after the tone.

Dinner was Korean food at Origami. Bookstore afterwards. Midnight swim. Amazing.

I Never Look Classy: Part 4: Thrift Seizure

The first full day of our stay in this humble mansion of ours came with a lack of anything important or significant happening. The sun came up, our eyes opened, we had showers.

Breakfasts were had, eggs were eaten, sleepy eyes were emptied of sand. Somewhere along the way decisions were made.

Outlet stores.

All of them.

Let the bodies hit the floor.

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Let us take a moment to introduce the players, theDramatis personæ, if you will.

First, we have your narrator, myself, Dr. Erik Q Winchester, Photographizer extra-ordinare.

Second we have Derrick, a tall chap with a iron jaw and a zest for life. To describe him in a word, that word would be "Hard-Boiled."

Third, and kin to Derrick, is Clovis. His real name is a mystery to all but himself and those who gave him that name; in the minds of all others, he is a mystery. A slight man with a sharp wit, in a match of wits you would not be the odds on favourite.

Last, our man Adam, he with the soft spot for soft italian leather shoes and other finery. More on that in a moment.

Some names and locations may have been changed for reasons of hilarity.

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The grey skies hung low, trapping the humidity close to my skin as we stepped from our chariot and entered the outdoor prominade that served as the beginning of the brick and mortar snake we were about to traverse, an obstacle course of Barginz and Sweet Sweet Dealz.

Our first stop was a Neil Gaiman's "Last Chance Repository" with ROCK-BOTTOM prices. Adam was on a quest for a Hugh Brauss shirt for under Two Hundred of These American Dollars.

Inside was his haven, a Field of Dreams. He found his Hugh Brauss
shirt for the low low price of $180. After a moment, I motioned for him to move in closely as to not cause commotion. Experienced at the "outlet gambit" I informed him that, because of a series of coloured dots, that shirt was actually 30% off of that price. 

Adam stepped back as if thunderstruck.

"So, this shirt is... only $126??" He asked, conspiratorially, checking around for any listeners in.

I nodded solemnly and turned back to a selection of leather wallets I was scoping out.

Adam seemed satisfied, but I later learned that something had overcome him. Something primal.

Dealz.

The stress on Adam was further compounded not ten minutes later when talking to a sales lady about some fine leather shoes he was eyeing. Normally SIX HUNDRED FUCKING DOLLARS they were on sale for aound $200. The sales lady, whose name is embedded in Adam's brain for all eternity (but I can't be bothered to get it, he's on the other side of the house), the sales lady informed Adam that, if he were to pay today and return just a few days later, on Tuesday... everything he ordered would have an additional 50% taken off the price.

At this point Adam had a Thrift Seizure. He twitched and babbled thanks at the sales lady and with his eyes aflame, fueled the a raging desire for DEALZ, he turned to us. The rest of us three were wary of the look, but supportive. 

Awesome. On sale for $899

When he walked out, he had $1500 of merchandise waiting to be picked up. I won't say the actual cost of the things he bought in REAL 'MERICAN DOLLARS but it was frighteningly low.

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You hear that Ian?!?!? I got a NEW FUCKING WALLET. Take that!! :)

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After that we got food at an awesome Mexican restaurant. We returned home with a box of cheap booze and mixed ourselves drinks and threw the football around in the pool. 

We are happy so far. I bid you adieu.

I Never Look Classy: A Florida Travelogue: Part 3: Welcome to the Real World

The night passed uneventfully, the morning was a grim sight to wake up to. Darkness and shadow reigned the parking lot, clouds of rain swelling up in preperation for a miserable day.

6am at a hotel means only one thing: Continental breakfast. Bountiful feasts of mediocre bacon and eggs at some hotels, at other lodging establishments, slim servings of miniature muffins and bruised bananas. Our hotel was firmly established in the nutritional wasteland of the latter.

A goop dispenser sat beside a plethora of disposable cups, each destined to be filled with said goop for 20 seconds, emptied, and thrown out. This goop was poured into a greased mold and turned over, emerging with a hiss from the cast-iron contraption as a soft, rather warm and slightly wet waffle. This waffle, my waffle, my creation, upon being pried from the maw of the metal beast earned me praise from the nearby breakfast czar. While ensuring the meager supplies were constantly and competently replenished she allowed me the praise of a "That's a mightah fine waffle yew've got thar!"

My reply?

"I've had practice." Then I slathered the waffle with syrup and ate every last bite. It was delicious in a very warm, sugary way. Done with it, I vowed to myself to eat healthier for the rest of the trip.

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The next few hours we talked about Will Smith, his hopes, his dreams and our impersonations of him grew ever wilder. This was kept up until one of us declared that we were in Sonic country, and that a Sonic burger would be a thing to try. In all honestly, it was myself, the narrator, Erik who suggested Sonic, my earlier vow thrown to the dogs like a scoundrel.

Upon locating a Sonic in the middle of a sun-blasted rural village rife with bail-bond and typing services, we realized that we had no concept of the strange device in front of us: A Drive-In Order Board.

The board was a menu, on it were pictures of food and advertisements for specials. One was peculiar in its unabashed gluttony. "Drink More Pie."

How many pies is a good number to drink? My thoughts: None. More than none is some, and some is just one to many for Number of Pies Drank.

We were flummoxed, unsure of how to proceed. Did we go inside? No, employees only. Did we wait? Nothing happened when we did. Moments passed. Three of us hopped out of the car to study the board more closely.

There was a Big Red Button, the kind used to launch missiles. There was no instructions on or around the button to indicate it's use. We touched the button, unsure if it should be pushed, but eventually ventured forth.

Quickly we ordered our food and it arrived a few minutes later. Our server was a delightful stereotype of a kind southern lady. She noted our trouble with the menu board, we detailed our origin story from Canada, the drive, and our confusion with the idea of a Drive In Eatery.

She said something then, "Welcome to the Real World."

Was this the real world?

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We made a pact, we four, before even spending moment one in the US of A.

"If you meet a girl in Florida who does not say Cal-adge instead of College, you marry her."

So far we four gentle sirs remain single and unbetrothed.

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Who is more famous? Don Pardi, or Matt Heyes? This conversation took up several hours of our ride. The answer? Nobody knows.

Also, Biscuit World is real. I was a kid when I came down last and recalled a place called Biscuit World that we drove past. All you can eat biscuits and gravy for NINETY NINE CENTS.

NINETY NINE CENTS!!!!!!!

I shudder to think what corners were cut on the quality of the biscuits, the service, the establishment to make that a profitable business model.

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Upon our arrival at the house we did rejoice. It is awesome, warm, has a pool and is all around pretty brilliant.

Great times were had this day. With that I bid you good night. More to come soon.

I Never Look Classy: A Florida Travelogue in 33 Parts: Part 2: Cross-Fire

"What are four twenty five year old guys doing going to Florida for a month? Don't you guys have jobs?" said the disgruntled border agent.

Hardly older than we in the car, the border official glared at us with such contempt; it was as if we had offended his sensibilities by daring to go to a fun place for a while for fun.

And make no mistake, he was AGAINST fun of and kind, in any form and especially not in HIS country.

Though he was originally clean-shaven, in my mind he begins to take on the aspects of a 40-year old man with a handle-bar moustache. The lore attributed to this caricature of a mean guard lives in a former coal town and drives an ugly old beater, has a small white-ish gray house with dirty aluminum siding. As Adam, one of my fellow travelers put it, "That is a man who only gets one day off every three weeks, and on that day his wife has him do 'errands.'"

We four were asked to stop off at the border crossing office and then, after a short conversation with an officer who had an amateur interest in linguistics, we were on our way!

Needless to say the rest of the 12 hour drive was punctuated with rehashings of the first border guards cartoonish monologue. As we told it again and again it morphed from being spoked by the guard to having the voice of Joe Pesci and, after a while, the voice of Matt Damon talking in a Bawstan accent.

We arrived at our destination, an express hotel on the damp outskirts of Charlotte, North Carolina. We dropped our bags in the rooms and headed to a local eatery, not ten steps from le grande foyer of the hotel. The eatery was well known to the man behind the counter, our chill innkeeper.

Ichiban.

Ichiban. That name will live on in the hearts of we four. Live on in our minds. Live in our minds and hearts and taunt us from the dark corners of our psyche.

This was a chinese buffetorium, a combination of a prison cafeteria and a low-class buffet.

While time and progress may have marched on for the rest of the world, Ichiban remained unchanged in the dark, dark depths of the early 90's renovation that formed it's armour, the red faux pleather seats slick with years of sweat and beer spills.

One of the "dishes" served by Ichiban was called "wheast." "Wheast." The little placard above it did not describe it's origin, and I did not ask for fear of the answer. It looked of a yorkshire pudding crossed with an apple fritter, and under the heat lamp it glowed. Or sweated. Near it was Italian style chicken. Onion rings. Pudding.

For $10 after a 12 hour drive, it was certainly something that hit a spot. Maybe not the spot, but for something to relieve our cravings it certainly took care of that with only a minimum impact to the total life span of the four gentle sirs who partook that night.

Good times were had by all. This blog post will likely be going up when we arrive in Florida to our house, if only because we don't have internet at the hotel. More will follow!!

Pictures of My Family & "I Never Look Classy: A Florida Travelogue In Thirty Three Parts: Part 1: Terminal Atrocity" And Then Also This is My 200th Blog Post!!! Woooo!

I was out with family a few days ago and I took a couple pictures of my Great Uncle John, Great Aunt Janet and my cousin Lucy. As well my dad and myself, which you saw above. Here are a couple of the pictures!

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Regarding the other project that I've been working on, since the first time on the scale I have so far lost 5.2 pounds! Exercise pays off, so I'm going to be keeping it up while I'm away by hitting up the pool we have in our house. Status will updated on that as we go!


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So here we are. Less than 12 hours before I leave for Florida. This is the first part of my travelogue detailing my month long journey down to the southern USA. We'll be leaving tomorrow at 7am and I'll be picturizing the entire process!

So pay attention to this blog to all my friends and family and you'll get to see how things are going!!

Day Three Breakdown

Here are some pictures from when Mel was on her jetski! And other people on jetskis too!

So this past few days I've been counting down to when I'd be starting up at the gym again. I'm making a serious effort to lose some weight. Right now I'm just sticking on the elliptical machine which has long been my favourite. After only three days I've noticed a big improvement in how long I can tolerate on the machine.

This is a segment of this blog that I am going to be continuing for the next little while. I think that at the end of the next six months I'll reveal what my starting weight was, and what my ending weight was, and what the results in between were.

Here we go.

Day 1: 2.1 miles in 40 minutes.

Day 2: 2.6 miles in 45 minutes.
Day 3: 2.9 miles in 45 minutes.