The thing about cousins

This weekend was the annual holiday-imposed family reunion on my father's side of the gene pool. I always look forward to these gatherings with a mix of eagerness and dread. There's nothing particularly wrong with visiting The Family; everyone is cordial and the party snacks aren't bad. If anything, I should only laud my dad, aunts and uncles for their yearly efforts to reunite the group even as geography has separated us.

Unfortunately, as I have grown older, the social interactions required at said gatherings have become systematically and progressively more uncomfortable. While there's always the cousins' rehashing of fonder, childhood memories like which 9-year-old spelled out the naughtiness of Green Day lyrics to the youngins and who, until puberty, was 100% convinced Uncle Charlie had a flying dog who lived in his backyard, we have now added the awkward "semi-adult" conversations.

"Semi-adult" conversations are those in which the cousins (ranging from ages 15-26) air their parents' dirty secrets from college and adolescence which now seem totally absurd and/or sublimely hilarious. Aforementioned parent/aunt/uncle will then casually overhear conversation and additional hilarity or uncomfortable silence will ensue. Ideal topics include: college drug consumption, alcohol-induced stupidity, songs from the 70s.

The other type of "Semi-adult" conversations are those in which the "semi-adult" in all of us is exploited, often at our own personal expense. Typically these conversations consist of an individual cousin speaking to an individual uncle/aunt, however the occasional fluctuating ratio of participants from one generation to another can tip the life-success assessment scales in favor of the larger party.

You don't want to be on the awkward end of one of these chats. Older relatives seek out the youth and unintentionally scrape away at the few shreds of self-confidence most young adults possess. Everyone is well-intentioned but cousins are often forced to confront their current life crises in a up-beat, 10-minute pep-talk sort of way. In the worst of situations, cousins have to reiterate details of the preceding year's failures, dredging up all sorts of ugly repressed thoughts most of us don't want to think about in the privacy of our own heads, let alone discuss over Wheat Thins and a cheese ball.

Actual overheard examples include:

• "So, when are you getting married?"
• "Are you dating anyone?"
• "Haven't you found a job yet?" (actually followed up with, 'have you tried funeral homes?')
• "You still don't know what you want to do with your life???"
• "Who will be the first to get married?"
• "Are you still with so and so?" (typically responded to with some version of, 'It's been about a year, but thanks for reminding me')
• and my personal favorite, "What are you doing in Buffalo?"

Now I realize that some people might look at this list and wonder why or how those topics should be avoided. But consider this when you're grilling the younger generation: do we ever turn the tables on you? How's your marriage? Worried about losing your job in this economy? Are you ever tired of living in xyz city? You look like you've put on a few pounds. Are you eating alright? Are you really happy doing that?

Nope. We very politely respond and attempt to distract from the unwanted attention.

As a collective whole this year, I think the cousins quietly acknowledged the desire to avoid such types of questions, but inevitably, everyone spends their time on the hotseat enduring varying degrees of humiliation. It's not as if there are a lack of personal joys or accomplishments that could be discussed. I am sure there are plenty, but the American Dream line of questioning is certainly the most popular. It goes like this:

Topic 1: Job/School or corresponding lack thereof
Topic 2: Marriage/Relationship or corresponding lack thereof
Topic 3: Life Goals or corresponding lack thereof

If you strike out on all three you're in deep crap, you could be on the hotseat for 20-30 minutes, or hours cumulatively if you're properly circulated between the elders. Even giving a mediocre response to one of the three can have you bumbling about for words until you panic and stuff your face with adequately messy spinach dip.

This year, at least, there were plenty of "semi-adult" beverages to ease the awkwardness, but still. If we only see you once or twice a year, at least afford us the social-norms and graces afforded to other similar acquaintances. Ease in to things and don't make it the inquisition or try to solve our life problems (or your perceived versions of our life problems) during a yearly dinner party. Conversations are a two-way street even if you changed our diapers.

And don't forget:
We love you.
Let's try to ease up on the Judgy Wudgy Bear Syndrome. I'll raise my spinach dip to that.

The thing about taxes

Dear Gov. Paterson,

Are you crazazy? I mean budget shortfalls are nasty, even particularly ugly this year...but you seriously want to charge me or tax me *more* when:

I drink a coke.
I drink a pepsi.
I drink a glass of wine.
I have a beer.
I buy clothes.
I buy shoes.
I get my haircut.
I buy books on Amazon.
I watch cable tv.
I take a cab.
I enroll in state university.
I renew my DMV junk (which already costs a fortune).
I fill up my gas tank (the price of which has fallen, but still stays far above the national avg).
I buy an ipod (once in a blue moon).

I take a deep breath.
I'm sorry. Excuse me for living.

You're going to eliminate 521 state jobs. NYC will lose 1 billion in funding (bloomberg says that's about 12,000 city jobs). If NYC thinks it is going to suffer...Buffalo...oh, Buffalo. NYC's underestimated brother to the west has had an economy on the decline since about the turn of the century. And I don't mean the 21st century. I mean the one 108 years ago. This will not help things.

rough economy. yuck.

The thing about sayings

My boyfriend just asked me if the phrase is:
"Rule of ThumB" or "Rule of ThumP"
His paper on neurolinguistics would have been much funnier if I had lied. I love foreigners.

The thing about Venice

Venice is sinking or drowning, depending on how you look at it. The unique locale is currently underwater.

If you've never visited Venice, know it's as romantic as you would imagine and more expensive than you could possibly imagine. I visited this summer, in what I fondly refer to as my "Week of Pizza and Gelato." Pizza, it turns out, was the only food I could afford (€3/slice) and different flavors of gelato composed my vegetable and fruit intake. The Week of Pizza and Gelato. That sounds delicious. I know. Even in rosy-retrospect it sounds yummy. But let's just suffice it to say, there isn't enough spinach on those pizzas to fulfill your roughage needs and Gelato's high sucrose content pretty much cancels out the healthy fruit flavors.

How could one go to Venice and not sit down in a stereotypical cafe and eat a stereotypical meal with a stereotypical glass of red? It sounds almost sacrilege! Why not? €20+ euros a pop is why. Let's do the math. This summer, with the dollar-euro exchange fairly unfavorable, you could be spending upwards of $90 daily just feeding yourself. Tack on those obligatory trips on the water buses, the hotel/hostel, a trip to the top of St. Mark's bell tower, a museum entry and a few souvenir postcards and all of the sudden you're spending $200+/day.

If that sounds like pocket change for you, well, you should send some of that love my way.

Anyway, despite the incredible amount of tourists and steep prices, Venice is still fabulous. There are plenty of nooks and crannies to escape into and walking around is free and provides hours of entertainment. My only complaint: it rained everyday I was there. Intense, downpour rain. It would come and go, but then the sun would come out and dry things up. During a particularly intense downpour this summer, in which hail was present and tourists were forced to take cover inside stores and shops, I pondered the flood potential of 300 islands separated by canals lapping at their bases. It seemed inevitable. Indeed, this is the worst flood since 1966 when more than 6 feet of water inundated the islands. Of course in 1966 the city and tourist infrastructure wasn't nearly as developed. Today flooding means a different story.

Sadly, today Venice became fairly unnavigable sans overpriced gondola or waterbus. Five feet of floodwaters threaten 99% of the city, including the beautiful architecture and the Dolce and Gabanna store. I know most people are concerned about the latter. ;)

Let's do a before and after. *Starting in my trip in June:

When the waters are peaceful, they still are (literally) lapping at doorsteps.

A storm passing through in June. The water is already everywhere so flooding seems a logical evil. This tourist was taken out by a killer whale shortly after this photo was shot.

*I know Venice is the most photogenic place second to Iceland and I've demonstrate horrendous examples of this, but alas--they make my point.


Now pictures of Venice today (click here for more pics from Reuters, including D&G flooding):



Sad times in Venice, luckily no one has been hurt. I wonder if there are fish swimming around San Marcos. Does this mean it will be cheaper to visit next summer?...

Check out the pics.

The thing about parking

I would just like to thank the guy who parked his little grey car outside my house. He parked it in front of my tragically narrow shared driveway and now neither my neighbors or I are going anywhere. My neighbor tried to leave first, honking her horn at first, hoping the park job was a quick fix. But on a Sunday at 11 a.m. no one wants to knock on every door in the neighborhood. After about 20 minutes of deliberation she resorted to calling the cops.

An hour or so later...
The cops came, gave the car a ticket and said the driver was from out of town aka likely college student. He assured us the tow truck was "en route" and he left.

Three hours later...

The police tow truck came. It hooked the car up, pushed it four feet, just enough to get it out of the path of the driveway and left it. Then it left.

Seriously? You've not only thrown a wrench in the day of one house full of people, but two, and all you get is a ticket? At any given moment there are no less than 60 cars parked on our street and somehow everyone else manages to avoid parking in front of the pathetic little driveways.

What's worse, the driver didn't return for the car until the next day meaning had we not called, we could have been stuck through Monday...eeek.

What really puzzles me about situations like this, is how confused the driver must have been when he returned to see a ticket on his car for parking poorly, when his car was now legally parked thanks to Mr. Tow Truck. Hmmm.



I'm sure the ticket was bad enough. Having your car towed would stink. But now that I think of it, being trapped in your house half the weekend stinks too... Maybe I'll send the photos to this website .

The thing about snow

This just in:

Lake Effect Snow Warning tonight: 6"-12" snow expected in the next 24 hours.

On Friday it was 70°F/21°C and I had the windows open. Monday we're expecting 6" of snow. What a difference a weekend makes.

Only in Western New York.


Technical difficulties have kept me from updating for the last few days. My apologies, we'll be back online soon.

The thing about Halloween part 2

This post has been delayed a bit due to technical difficulties when first published. Oh well. Enjoy the pics.

Two days before Halloween I was in the mood to carve pumpkins. Like decorating a Christmas tree before the holidays, it just seems like part of the obligatory festivities. We headed to Wegmans, my fav grocery store, (they should really pay me considering the amount of publicity I give them) to purchase said pumpkins.

Unlike hanging ornaments, you can't carve pumpkins too prematurely because, well, they'll rot. I figured two days in advance would keep the decomposition smell to a minimum when children dressed as zombies eventually came banging down our doors in search of high fructose corn syrup.

When we arrived, we were startled to discover there were NO PUMPKINS.

Zero. Mind you, this is a store that has fresh sushi and stuffed cornish hens in stock 24-hours a day and started stocking pumpkins in September---and now, two days before the big event and there are NO pumpkins?! They even had those teeny, wimpy pie-making pumpkins for sale in the veggie aisle, but nothing worth carving!?

What's worse, the customer service people said most of their stores within a 10-mile-radius were completely sold out. They didn't even have those great little pumpkin carving knives left over. Incredible. If Wegman's doesn't have it...no one will. Tragic.

Pumpkin shortage hits Western New York.

I started to regret not having bought a pumpkin at the Great Pumpkin Farm back in early October. Come Thursday we were about to throw in the towel, but my landlord had placed 5 (FIVE!!!) un-carved pumpkins on the porch and they were very tempting.

Lucky for us our landlord supports Obama and likes "spreading the wealth around." Specifically the pumpkin wealth.

We snagged two pumpkins and since neither us nor our landlord were going to be home to hand out candy, I carved one pumpkin with a helpful arrow for neighborhood children encouraging them to head to the next house.

Unfortunately, come sun down on Halloween, the first floor neighbor rang our doorbell and told us he was planning on handing out candy. Oops.

We suggested turning the arrow towards the house for good measure. Alas. It was fun while it lasted!

The thing about pumpkins

A few weeks ago I mentioned a pie eating contest at the Great Pumpkin Farm in Clarence, NY. I was at the GPF covering The World Pumpkin Weigh-Off. I met a handful of really interesting folks whose principal hobby is growing ridiculously large pumpkins. They meet for competitions, sell winning seeds and exchange tips and war stories about growing ridiculously large pumpkins.

Like many hobbies, giant pumpkin growing can be a time-consuming activity. Here are some details:

1. To grow a giant pumpkin you must dedicate between 1-3 hours a day. Activities include, watering, weeding, fertilizing (never underestimate that last part,) and in one man's case, playing his pumpkin heavy metal music.

2. To grow a giant pumpkin you must plant early. We're talking March or April. Get those seeds in your favorite greenhouse or put them on top of your fridge to get them warm and sprouting. From there, various transfers might be necessary---especially in Western New York, where the weather can include hail, snow, ice, wind or rain nearly all year round.

3. Get the family involved. Naming your pumpkin might increase its self-confidence and speed up its growth.

4. Come October, dust off your forklift, oh wait, no forklift? Call a bunch of your heftiest friends and offer them beer to help move your gargantuan squash. If you've followed the above steps, your pumpkin probably weighs over 500lbs (226kls).

5. Decide what you're going to do with Your Pumpkin afterwards. Save the seeds? Genetics is important, after all. Carve it? Hide your children inside?...it's up to you.


Now that you know everything you need to grow a giant pumpkin, how about some motivational photos from the event?


That's 981 lbs., for those of you paying attention to the scale.

Transportation is an important consideration as well...


For those of you who don't succeed...well, 10lbs isn't so bad either.
The winner at 1075lbs.

The thing about Philadelphia

I hate being a tourist.

I love seeing new things while traveling, "touring," for lack of a better word, but I hate being a tourist. However, this weekend in Philly I devoted myself to doing just that:

Being a tourist.

Standing in overcrowded lines, sitting in mind-numbing traffic, wading through massive tourist groups of Japanese teenagers...That sort of thing.

You cannot go to Philadelphia and not see Independence Hall, The Liberty Bell and the historic district. Or at least that's what I thought. The Bell is big and historically significant, but certainly nothing to get your panties in a pinch over. After a two-hour wait (partially in the rain) to obtain tickets to Independence Hall, I was unpleasantly surprised to discover that many guests bypassed the ticket line and were still allowed entry since no one was checking tickets. The guided tour was interesting, but I was kinda irked to hear,

"The only thing original in this whole building is that chair."

A CHAIR?

I just got tickets and waited for two hours while ticketless people cut ahead of me in line to see where the Declaration of Independence was supposedly painstakingly drafted in the suffocating heat of the 1776 Philadelphia summer and the only original thing you've got to show me is

A CHAIR???

Sure, it's a chair where George Washington and Ben Franklin sat now and again, but really? I could have watched National Treasure and gotten the gist of the place.

The building has been "historically renovated" to restore it to its "original splendor," but there's just nothing that original about renovation. I should give them credit for not charging for entrance, but it's still a big hassle getting in the place, even in off-peak season.

I realize it's a lot to ask that 200-year-old furnishings and artifacts are maintained, but the Colosseum has a higher percentage of original materials and I'm pretty confident it's more than 200 years old.

Okay, enough complaints about the chair. I probably could have avoided the debacle all together if I would have seen Jen14221's Philly tips on twitter, but I missed out. Maybe next time. On to the highlights instead...

The Philadelphia Cheesesteaks were good, my friend Christina took us to the original place, Pat's King of Steaks. I ordered it "wit" and with provolone, which in retrospect I realize was a mistake. Cheez-whiz is the only way to go.

The Eastern State Penitentiary is also well worth a visit. During October evenings it turns into a ridiculously popular haunted house, but with ticket prices starting at $20, it's worth seeing the place during daylight hours. I assure you, it can be equally creepy. The ESP is one of the world's first penitenitaries, with an estimated 500 other prisons in the world based on its model. It's creepy, decrepit, interesting, authentic and home to Al Capone's former jail cell.

My advice? When in Philly, skip the chair, go to prison.

The thing about gas prices

This weekend I went on a little road trip to Philadelphia. I had mistakenly fallen under the impression that gas was exorbitantly expensive all over the country, but it turns out it's just the state of New York.

The moment we crossed the state line into Pennsylvania, the prices started plummeting. When we left Buffalo on Thursday we paid somewhere in the neighborhood of $3.45 and by the time we settled in in Philadelphia we were seeing $2.70 and lower! It's amazing what crossing the state line can do. I had heard rumors of the elusive $2.00/gal, but now it seems it's even making a comeback on the East Coast!

Fortunately once we returned, prices have gotten a little kinder. Today I saw $2.99 just up the street from my house. $2.99! I never thought I would be so excited to see prices so low. To be fair, the average local price in Buffalo is still $3.12, but the City of Brotherly Love is seeing $2.47 and the nationwide average is at $2.58...

The Gas Map, courtesy of BuffaloGasPrices.com, indicates the average price in each county via gradients of colors. Green is good. Red is Bad. You'll notice a nasty red blotch where I'm living. Even New York City, our downstate neighborhood to the east, shows minimal redness. Kansas, my former home, has a nice, friendly green hue to it.




So why are Buffalo's gas prices still $0.54 above the national average? Don't just say taxes. I'm sure you can come up with something more creative than that.

The thing about the weather

My blog is called The Lake Effect Affect, so it's important that I finally note its origins for those not from the Buffalo area.

Lake Effect refers to snow or rain created when cold arctic winds meet warm air over lakes and dump a distinctive snow (or rain), on lee shores. That's lee shores. So there you have it.

Oh wait, you don't know what the heck 'lee shores' are? You've totally been slacking on your kayaking jargon. I'm from Kansas, you have no excuse. If you're really interested in lee shores, See wikipedia entry. It's not really important, the exact definition, except to say that Buffalo is situated on the LEE SHORES of Lake Erie, fashioning the stereotype that Buffalo is constantly inundated with snow.

Well. I haven't survived the winter yet, so I can't tell you if that's true or not. I can tell you, however, if this is any sign of what is to come:

Today we had our first snow flurries. October 21st.

So today, the Lake Effect Affect is cold---and just a little bit worr---err, excited about what's to come.


p.s. if you haven't watched the video in the last post, I promise it will make you laugh. I dare you to get up and dance with her.

The thing about 1992

I just saw an eloquent, to-the-point video on Coffee and Grilled Cheese. Props for the post. Hilarious.

Vote, baby, vote! Are you registered, baby?

Thanks to MTV, 1992 and Deee-Lite for said video.

The thing about pleather

This just in: Sarah Palin speaks at Colorado rally.
I couldn't help but be distracted by what she was wearing.


We all know how it turned out the last time we saw someone with an outfit like that:


...

The thing about lobsters

As I pulled in to Wegman's Friday, I saw a giant sign where they normally boast their ridiculously large beer selection.

$6.99/lb. Live Lobster Sale! Fresh from Maine!

I can count on two hands how many times I've eaten lobster in my life, likely due to its cost-restrictive tendencies, but this is neither here nor there. I remember the experiences being near celestial.

After a quick cell phone call to my mother to inquire about what's involved in cooking live lobster, which seemed inhumane at best, it seemed I had no choice but to splurge.

"$6.99?!?! That's amazing," my mom said. "I've never seen anything cheaper than $10.99. Buy! Buy!" We are from The Most Landlocked State Known To Man, however. I'm sure $10.99 is a wicked deal in Kansas.

I ended up getting two - with taxes about $16.00. Pretty good for fresh Maine lobster, I understand. I've got to admit, I felt entirely awkward and cruel carrying live food around in a bag. The seafood man reassured me they would not escape in my fridge, but I kept checking on them all afternoon.

They looked at me with those bulgy, opaque lobster eyes. Complete disdain. My guilt was palpable, even as I googled the best cooking method. Another moment of reassurance came when I discovered that lobsters, like insects, supposedly don't have a nervous system so they can't detect pain. I guess when I slowly steam or boil their little butts to death, this should make me feel better. I don't know if this is true. Someone find out and tell me for next time.

I opted for steaming and felt bad about it until I started eating.

Lobster. Yum. I hope they can't feel pain or experience grocery bag trauma.

The thing about wings

With all the non-stop chatter about American politics and the world economic melt down, I think some lighter, spicier fare is in order.

Buffalo Wings.

It's important to note, in Buffalo no one calls them "Buffalo Wings." Here, they're simply known as 'wings.' I suppose it's like going to Chicago and asking for a "Chicago Hot Dog" or to Philadelphia and ordering a "Philadelphia Cheese Steak." You just don't do it.

As the birthplace of the chicken wing, Buffalo has a slew of restaurants claiming to have the best wings in the city.

To be honest, I really never liked chicken wings prior to moving to Buffalo. Once you move here, however, you embrace drinking Canadian beer and watching hockey and then wings just come with the territory.

Without further ado, an amateur's guide to Buffalo's chicken wings.

The Anchor Bar: With their tell-tale state license plates lining the wall, this is supposedly where it all started. Tourists to Niagara Falls list it on their must-sees right after The Maid of The Mist. It's a little pricey compared to other wing dives, but it is "the original." I liked these wings, but popular Buffalonian opinion indicates it's not the favorite. I went for the medium and it was fairly mild. They won't let you mix and match your flavors for free, so expect to pay if you want to sample the various 'heats.'

Duff's: It actually burns when you walk through the door. The first breath in and you're already feeling the burn. Staffed with dozens of cute UB undergrads, this place gets points for character. In full disclosure, it's more of a dive than The Anchor Bar, but I suppose most people consuming food entirely with their hands aren't too picky, right?

Their claim to fame is "our medium is hot..." This is a slogan that should be taken more as a warning than with a grain of salt. After The Anchor Bar, I mistakenly ignored this fact and went for the medium. I regretted it not only during the meal, but the next day too. Duff's is nice because they offer package deals with a pitcher of pop or beer and french fries. They also allow you to choose how many of each flavor of wings you want. Want to try a suicidal, 5 mediums and 4 milds? No extra charge. Nice.

Gabriel's Gate: Buffalo Spree (see previous post) named Gabriel's Gate the best place for wings so we had to try them. Their medium was a comfortable medium and the prices are reasonable. They charge a few bucks if you want to customize your order. I can't say they were my favorite, that honor goes to Duff's, but the taxonomy decor, crazy late hours and authentic Buffalo feel makes Gabriel's Gate a close runner-up.

The thing about Iran

My friend from Iran came to visit this weekend.

You can stop furrowing those eyebrows now.

Rife with politically incorrect jokes about the "Axis of Evil," he spent the weekend on the futon and caught me up on the life of an Iranian ex-pat turned American college co-ed. His father served as an Iranian diplomat throughout most of his life, meaning my friend grew up in Oman, India, Sri Lanka, Algeria and of course, Iran.

The various stints in other countries and an American undergraduate experience have given him a unique perspective, indeed. His parents have returned to Iran, but both his sister and brother are studying and working in the United States. He craves The Colbert Report, tried every flavor of frozen custard at Anderson's and implored me about the existence of Trader Joe's in Buffalo. Needless to say, he fully intends to become an American citizen.

Here are some of the fascinating highlights from the weekend per his commentaries:

Movies worth seeing: 2007's Academy Award nominated "Persepolis." To be honest, on a scale of one to ten, my knowledge of Iran was about a two. This movie bumped it up to at least a four or five. My Iranian friend says it's a fairly accurate portrayal of history (at least the last 40 years or so) in Iran, with many of the current issues presented still holding true today. And no, this movie wasn't shown in Iran.

On enriching uranium: He's not a fan of the current regime, so he was concerned about their ambitions. However, in defense of his homeland he said Iran, like many other countries, had signed the non-proliferation agreement and should be allowed to have nuclear energy, not weapons. His fear, like that of many, is an arms race that could be disastrous if left unchecked.

Persian vs. Farsi: Call the language Persian. He thinks it's weird when you Show-Offs call it Farsi. Why is it not called Iranian? In a nut shell, Iranians have always called their country Iran, but the rest of the world called it Persia for a long time. Once they decided to reassert their namesake, it took so long to get recognition, the language title more or less fell by the wayside. So in English, that means Iranians speak Persian. Not Arabic. It looks like Arabic because it's written with the Arabic alphabet, but just because French is written with the same alphabet as English doesn't make it English.

On the head scarf: Women are forced to wear them in Iran. SallyJaneTourist would even have to wear one. My friend doesn't agree with or like this rule.

On Niagara Falls: Amazing. Simply amazing. It's a shame he can't cross over to the Canadian side without a visa. Everyone knows the view is better...

Is everybody Muslim in Iran?: No. Are lots of people Muslim? Yes. Is my friend? No.

Is alcohol really illegal in Iran?: Yes, think Prohibition and you're on the right track. Has just about everything illegal gone underground under the current regime? Yes.

Do Iranians hate Americans: No, in fact, most Iranians have never met an American and would be very excited to meet AverageJoeTourist. They do, however, vividly recall the air strikes by Saddam and fear potential attacks of that nature.

Was your dad ambassador to America?: "Ambassadors/embassies/consulates are normally only in countries where relations are solid. Thus, there is no Iranian embassy in the USA and no American embassy in Iran." Third world countries have it kind of tough, he said.

Why there aren't tanning salons in India: "In India, there are more skin-lightening creams than there are shampoos for sale at the drug store." He admitted this was a slight exaggeration, but only slightly. Many Indians, he says, like in some other cultures, prize fair skin. He cited actual television commercials where Indians from southern provinces use the creams and exclaim a la American infomercial, "Now I look like I'm from such and such Northern province! (notorious for fairer skinned individuals)." And we thought all the rage was the bronzer the better. Now I find myself smearing on spray-on-tan and exclaiming, "Now I look like I'm from California!" It doesn't have quite the same ring.

The thing about ganache

The other day after having a major craving for chocolate, I decided to try out a pastry shop in the neighborhood. It had been a long, rainy day and I thought it would be a nice pick-me-up.

As I purused the glass window full of yummy pastry goodness, I spotted what looked to be a dark chocolate turtle tart. It just said 'turtle tart' on the card so I asked the man working there if it was dark chocolate or milk chocolate. I didn't think my question was that out of the ordinary, but the man looked at me as if I had just insulted him, the store and his unborn child.

"Milk or dark chocolate?" he repeated.

"Yeah," I giggled uncomfortably, thinking he was making an awkward joke.

"It's ganache." With that it became very evident that he was very serious and that I might as well asked for a Hershey's bar.

"Ok. Ganache. I'll take one of those," I smiled uncomfortably and waited while he pulled my treat.

"There's no such thing as milk chocolate or dark chocolate," he muttered as he packed up the tart. Then he looked right at me and added in his snarkiest voice yet, "someone in Buffalo needs to be educated."

My shock completely shut down my comeback faculties. I replayed what he had just said over in my head, hoping the guy was joking, but there was no turning back.

The man went to ring up my credit card. I turned to my boyfriend, who was only half paying attention to this exchange, and said to him in Spanish, "if the guy wants to educate me, maybe he doesn't have to be such a jerk about it."

I got my tart and got the hell out of there, but not before the snarky clerk got in the last word yet, a mocking and horribly pronounced "hasta luego."

Don't stand between a girl and her chocolate. It's all chocolate. And don't be a snob, I'm the customer. I know what ganache is. I know what milk and dark chocolate are. And believe me, honey, they exist.

I wanted to like you Dolci Bakery on Elmwood, I really did. But that guy was such a schmuck, I vow to never go back and to tell everyone I know how rude the service was.

The thing about studies

Road ragers: apply here.
That's what the ad should have said.

I saw one of those adverts for a study at a local university, no scary trial medicines involved, just driving. How bad can that be? They give you cash for driving. Right? Sounds good.

The woman at the research institute said I had to answer some preliminary questions to qualify for the study itself. After a few minorly invasive questions about my health history and a brief explanation about the nature of the study, the questions started. Actual questions like this:

"Do you ever purposely try to run other drivers off the road?"

From a researcher's perspective, this might be useful knowledge, but from a sheer ethical and moral standpoint, don't you want to do something if someone answers "all the time" or even "sometimes?"

Other questions included:
"How often do you try to get the best of other drivers?"
"How often do you overtake other drivers while passing them in the wrong lane?"
"How often do you get into arguments with other drivers?"
"How often do you swear at other drivers?"

I guess I'm way too mild a driver. I said 'never' so often, by the end I was desperately hoping they were looking for well-adjusted, mild-tempered drivers. Not so.

So. If you often want to "cut off another driver to get even" or "chase another driver," I've got the perfect study for you.

I just hope you don't live in my town.

The thing about pie

Pie Eating Contests have always been one of those things I see on television and watch with a mixture of horror and awe. Similar to a presidential debate or Nathan's Hotdog Eating Contest, perhaps one ponders the idea of participating, but quickly brushes off the idea to consider more likely, tasteful pursuits.

That was my official stance on the country fair pastime, that is, until Saturday.

I spent the morning at The Great Pumpkin Farm, reporting on the 26th Annual World Pumpkin Weigh-Off. More on that later.

The Great Pumpkin Farm in Clarence turns out to be the epitome of all things autumn related. It combines a 4-H fair, an amusement park and excessive pumpkin-themed events to create an All-American Saturday.

I know you're wondering of what I think an All-American Saturday consists:

• Ponies and livestock: check
• Ferris wheel: check
• Overpriced fried food: check
• Candied Apples: check
• Food-eating competitions: check

I stumbled upon the latter, a Pumpkin Pie Eating Contest, while making my way to the corn maze. I told my friends I just wanted to see if it was as interesting in real life as on TV.

I would like to blame it on not having eaten lunch yet, because somehow the slices being set in front of contestants started to look more and more appealing. The ladies passing out the pie sensed my weakness.

"Come on! Try it! If you only eat two pieces of pie, no big deal! It's free!"

This was really all I needed to hear. Pie + Free in the same sentence. Never mind she rattled off the short list of rules quickly thereafter: No hands. Put them behind the back for good measure.

I was all in. Me, and about 20 other folks willing to sacrifice their dignity for some free pumpkin pie.

My approach was not competitive in the least. Leisurely pie eating (without looking like I was just in it for the free pie) we'll call it. I downed 4 pieces in 5 minutes. Not too shabby. The winners knocked out 11 and 10 pieces respectively. Somewhat cruelly, they were forced to do "eat-offs" after ties emerged.

No pie eating contest is complete without pictures........

What an informal eating contest looks like before the eating.

Mhmm. Pie.

The third place winner


The eat off for first and second place

The eat-off for first and second place

The winner proves it.

The thing about scams

I've been cheated.

The Ol' Canadian Coin Switch Up strikes again.

Yes, being from the Midwest this has been a startling new discovery. It turns out that many Western New Yorkers are familiar with this scam.

A cashier hands you some change, and you, the trusting individual, simply eyeball the coins. You walk out of the bank, store, restaurant, gas station etc. none the wiser.

It isn't until you need that nickel or empty your pockets that you discover that what you thought was an American quarter is actually a Canadian quarter and what you thought was a shiny American nickel is actually a Canadian nickel. (The picture above is a mix of Canadian and American coins, can you tell the difference?)

At this point one's ethics comes into play: do you pass the coin forward and hope no one notices (as so unfortunately happened to you) or do you cut your losses and hold on to it for your next trip across the border?

I've opted for the latter, but it still kind of bugs me. It's pocket change I admit, but after some rather unscientific polling in line at the post office today, it sounds like banks, restaurants and other legit entities have been known to pass on the tender as fraudulent American money.

I would like to believe that it's all exchanged in error and that people are simply passing on the same mistake, but the buck has to stop somewhere. No pun intended.

No doubt the proximity to Canada brings the coins into circulation in America on a daily basis (and vice versa,) but the ones who lose out are those of us who aren't border hopping regularly .

I'm losing about 6 cents to the American dollar for every nickel and quarter of mine that turns into Canadian money and that's not even taking into consideration the very unlikely possibility that I'll use these coins in Canada any time soon.

So I'll be more vigilant, but you should too, Mr. ClerkWhoGivesMeCanadianMoneyinAmerica.

Besides, I really need those quarters for the laundromat and the washers and dryers CAN tell the difference.

The thing about names

I had a conversation with a gentleman Saturday who kept referring to me by the wrong name. The entire time. On the awkward spectrum, this ranks fairly high because both parties involved can easily become embarrassed if the truth is revealed.

For his purposes, I was "Barbara." To be sure, NOT my name, not even a very pretty name (no offense Barbaras.) Not once, not twice, at least five times he referred to me as such. I could have corrected him, but by the time I realized his error was not actually an allusion to another woman, it was too late.

I was Barbara. I felt bad correcting him so late in the game, even though we had just become acquainted half an hour earlier. His mistake, so why should I be embarrassed? Good question.

I reasoned he associated my last name with a famous Barbara of a similar last name and thus when searching for my first name when memory failed, he remembered my memorable last name and went for the familiarity point.

What kills me is how someone can manage to say your name that many times in a conversation. Not only say it, but say it wrong.

Perhaps I'm unusual, but I rarely say someone's name while conversing with them. In fact, if I even slightly doubt my name recollection, I will entirely avoid naming names all together.

Think about it:

"Hey, how are you?...So how's work at such and such...Have you ever gone grocery shopping at Wegman's? Oh really, they sell pickled pigs feet?" That sort of thing.

No need for first names. That's not saying you have to be impersonal, but practical.

When in doubt, my name isn't Barbara and you don't ever have to reference me when we're already speaking face to face.

Ok, John? or was it Ralph?

The thing about learning a foreign language

Last night my boyfriend got some disturbing news.

He was busy grading his students' Spanish compositions, which keep him abnormally busy as they are usually riddled with grammatical errors, when one student's composition revealed a startling detail about her dog.

"Mi perro Jack tiene dos anos."
translation: My dog Jack has two anuses.

She was likely going for "My dog Jack is 2 years old" but leaving the ˜ off the ñ sure makes for a fun read. Luckily she followed it up with,

"Mi otro perro solo tiene un ano"
translation: My other dog only has one anus.


Español 101
ano = anus
año = year

Good to know.

The thing about lists

The September edition of Buffalo Spree magazine is all about the "Best of WNY." I love "Best of" lists as much as the next VH1 junkie, and I've taken it upon myself to try out all their picks. Nevermind it could take a year. Or two. From best pho to best margarita, I'm trying to knock a few things off the list every week. To be fair, I have nothing to compare their picks to except for judgment by my own humble palate, so this is a rather unscientific sampling. Here's what I've tested:

Chocolate/Candy: Choco-logo --- Great for a post-DMV pick me up. Pretty much the most fabulous chocolate ever. Whole, creamy and completely delish. A little pricey for my tastes with specialty chocolates for 19.99/lb., but the prices keep my calorie count in check.

Enchilada: La Tolteca --- There were so many enchilada choices I wasn't sure which one Buffalo Spree was referring to, but my pick (one cheese, one beef, one chicken, one bean) was delightful going in and amazingly didn't leave me with that tell-tale "you've-over-eaten-at-a-mexican-restaurant"-feeling.

Margarita: La Tolteca (see above) --- The waitress recommended their $9.99 better-have-a-designated-driver 16 oz. margarita. On the rocks and with salt, it had more alcohol than I expected, but it went well with the Enchilada.

Bread: Wegman's --- My boyfriend is European and craves their baguettes.

Pho: Red Pepper --- I didn't know what Pho was before eating at Red Pepper. I certainly didn't know that soup could be served in such mass quantities that it quickly becomes a left-overs item. Spicy and light, it's an excellent option for a quick lunch or a cold winter day.

Place to throw a party: Pearl Street Brewery --- We tried Pearl Street for my boyfriend's birthday party and while I enjoyed the atmosphere, I can't say it was that much more impressive than an average bar. Judging by the number of couples having their wedding receptions there (two), the upper floors might have something I missed. I will give them props for their signature "Trainwreck" home brew.

Frozen Custard: Anderson's --- Last night I tried a swirl of vanilla and pumpkin custard. I needed a little pick me up after the president interrupted "America's Got Talent" for "America's Got Problems." I highly recommend Anderson's as a good investment for stimulating the economy...

So those are 7 of the 189 winners. I could be at this for a while...

The thing about Buffalo

Buffalo, it seems is like Cutco knives: A tough sell until you personally see the kitchen shears cut the penny in half. I know this because I'm from Kansas. A state that at best has people assuming you've spent your life in a small farm house in the middle of a field a la "Little House on the Prairie" and at worst compartmentalizes your existence into a tornado of cliches from The Wizard of Oz.

It was with that in mind that when I told friends I was moving to Buffalo, even the Kansans thought I was a little nuts. One Michigan friend summed it up quite succinctly on facebook, "Buffalo? You're kidding...what the (expletive) is in Buffalo?" I didn't think that was very nice, but when the lady at the DMV asked me three times (I couldn't tell if she was kidding or serious) to confirm I really wanted to move to Buffalo, I started wondering the same thing.

I got here just in time to enjoy the end of summer; the summer being a major gloating point for Western New Yorkers. "Yeah, the winter can be a little rough, but the summers are to die for!" This is promising sentiment but since the summer has quickly turned to fall, I guess I'll have to wait for next April for the snow to melt (or is it June?) and bust out the t-shirts once again.

I'm discovering each day is full of kitchen shears-cut-penny-type surprises, however. Those are the good ones, kind of unbelievable and impressive. Grocery stores, for example. Buffalo Grocery stores leave me flustered. I joined the Lexington Co-Op to satisfy my crunchy tendencies even before I found Wegman's, a store with an enormous range of services and goodies that will no doubt become a bi-weekly event. Elmwood Village and Allentown are filled with enough urban hipsters, boutiques and kitch little restaurants like Betty's Place to make any culture snob rethink their opinion on Buffalo.

So I'm trying. Trying not to hate the 19 stoplights within a 2.5 mile stretch of Main Street near my house, trying not to wreck my car while driving up my 6 foot wide driveway squished between two of those fabulous Victorian style Buffalo homes. Trying to make it to the Farmer's Market on Saturdays, to the gym on Mondays and make some new friends in the mean time.

Who knows...maybe even a job if Buffalo is really kind to me...