First we went to that nasty-wasty Lourdes Oncology unit for my dad’s blood work. Then it was on to the movies to see World Trade Center. Matthew liked it, my dad and Steve couldn’t stand it, and I thought it wasn’t worth any discussion one way or the other — too sappy and manipulative. The events are moving enough; Hollywood needn’t have hit us over the head with a sledge hammer. We three moved back to Motel 6 and were glad of it. We made sure to transport our food stash, which had a goodly supply of TastyKakes, something hard to come by for us.
Category Archives: Products
Poppy’s last birthday
This started out to be a very sad day. It is my dad’s 69th birthday, and he was not feeling well — significantly weak and down in the dumps until about 2 p.m., when he perked up and suggested we go to Denny’s on Vestal Parkway for some coffee. It is always a good sign when he wants to go for coffee, so we all left his apartment feeling better. I called Steven and asked if he could come out and he said he would. This is another hot day in a string of hot days and hot days make challenging situations worse because you can’t think of anything other than how damned hot it is. Humid, too. We came back to our scuzzy hotel room and found ants marching in via a hole in the drywall around the window. This presented a problem since the window was near the desk and the laptop on said desk. While I appreciated the free, high-speed, wireless service — the only decent thing about the place — it was rendered useless by the column of ants I needed to brush off my calves every now and again. We stuck a cotton swab into the hole and complained to management. This was early evening. We called back at about 10:00 p.m. for an ETA and were told that “the exterminator left, but was on his way back.” Odd. He finally arrived after midnight – check out the photo above for his likeness. I told management that I did not want ants nor the smell of bug spray in the room. I suggested they look into an actual exterminator, and perhaps even clean around the sides of the building once in awhile. By that time we were beat, so we sprayed a tiny bit of chemical into the hole, stuffed the swab back in and hoped for the best. UPDATE: Months later, we received a full refund based on the complaint we filed
Wegman’s and Super 8
We checked into the super bad Super 8 in Binghamton this afternoon. Why? Well, although the Motel 6 was fab, it did not have free (or even pay) high-speed wireless internet. When you have a website, dial-up becomes old quickly. So we thought we’d “upgrade” for a couple weeks and were looking forward it. Upon arrival at check-in, we came upon a woman railing about the lack of extra pillows, the bad AC and the dampness. She said that this was “the worst place she ever paid to stay.” We’d have to agree. Our room was, overall, tacky, dirty, dank, sticky and broken down. There was something akin to a gunshot hole in the back of the bathroom door, and the horrors that existed behind the toilet in the bathroom rivaled the worst gas station rest room ever. Can you say “water damage” or “dry rot?” The walls in the place were stained and had a yellow hue that had nothing to do with paint color, and the furniture was well past its prime. The management may want to — and I know this is a crazy idea — put some of their profits back into the business. But, if you can handle serious cooties, they do have a fast wireless internet connection.
After we hung out a bit we drove over to Wegman’s, a tony supermarket chain, to get some snacks for dinner. Wegman’s is like Whole Foods, so we were able to get decent take-out sushi, cheese and whatnot for a hotel room picnic. There were piles of vacuum-packed ready-to-cook spiedie meat in refrigerated display cases and, joy of joys!, pieces of whole smoked whitefish from the Acme Fish Corporation in Brooklyn, New York. Silky, sensuous smoked whitefish flesh….salty, savory, oily, luscious smoked whitefish flesh. UPDATE: Months later, we received a full refund based on the complaint we filed. That was nice.
Wal-Mart chix and Little Venice
If it wasn’t for the old school Southern Italian dinner, the visit to Wal-Mart, and the 102 F. temperature, it would have been like another day in Berkeley. Oh, forgive us, Bay Area, for shopping at Wal-Mart! We bought some underwear and chicken strips.
Then we staggered across the parking lot to Barnes & Noble for iced coffee. Thanks to computer networking of the highest caliber, we were able to use our discount card, no problem. I would have sworn I was in the El Cerrito, CA branch. Same color scheme, same author photographs, same wall sconces, same God-awful Godiva boxed candy and teapots on the cafe display shelves, same annoying nondescript world beat pounding in the background. Plenty of Binghamton University students, from the looks of them.
During a visit with my dad at his personal three-room inferno later in the day, he suggested we have a “real” Italian dinner. “Real” meaning no skimping on the cheese and being served anything parmigiano on an oval silver platter, for starters. Like at Rutha’s, on Northern Boulevard in Queens, now long gone, but the site of many a biscuit tortoni snarfed down by yours truly. We followed orders and went to Little Venice Restaurant (111 Chenango Street), a Binghamton institution. The street seemed kind of dead but when we went into the place via the back entrance there was a sudden cacophony — the joint was jumping! We were quickly seated and menued in the large rectangular dining room and set about discussing options.
Matt went with rigatoni parm and I with combo (chicken, meatball and sausage) parm. We added fried calamari, which we soon regretted. Not only were there no tentacles, but the rings were all of the same small diameter. I’d like to know what happened to the rest of the squid involved. If you only ate this dish here, you’d never know what a real calamaro looked like, but I guess that’s the point. That and the ability to pour out prepared rings from a large freezer bag, though I have no proof of the latter. The soup and salad were “eh” and we hoped the entrees were better. They were, having plenty of melting mozzarella and a good house sauce. That said, if I ever went back I would have the antipasto I eyed at the next table along with an entree. I do admit to being surprised at how pricey Little Venice is given the economy of the area. Even I don’t like to drop over $17 for a plate of mixed parmigiano.
Not crazy about chug half and half
For some reason, chug dairy bottles have been ticking me off for the past few days. When I first saw them, I thought, “Great! If you drop it, nothing will spill.” Is it just me, or do these things drip all over in the afterpour? It also gets all gummy around the threads of the bottle where excess product hangs out. Then when you twist off the top the next time, all that dried gunk flakes off on your countertop. The form is nice but the function leaves something to be desired. I hate those kinds of “improvements!”