Sentence of Dave: Search results for white rose

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The Good, The Bad and the Very Damp

I can't even keep track of all this stuff-- yesterday we played Rahway in soccer and had a nice 4-3 win; my older son didn't play because he was injured but my younger son got some minutes because the team is banged up and apparently he played great at the end of the game, won some headers, and threaded a through ball to get the game-winning assist-- but I had to attend the all-county selection meeting as a proxy so I missed the second half of the game . . . and when I drove home at 9:30 PM there was lots of lightning from the impending storm, which I had discussed throughout the day with my children-- but apparently this didn't sink into my older son's brain-- because when he was getting White Rose fries he opened the sunroof of my wife's newish Mazda CX-5-- which we purchased recently because my son totalled our Honda CR-V at the start of the summer-- and my son did not close the sunroof when he got home and this was the wrong night to not close the sunroof, because we had a torrential rainstorm-- whcich we all discussed and prepared for-- so this was a major mental error (unlike his first accident in the rain, which was more of a physical error) and so this afternoon we've been shop-vaccing the car and running a dehumidifier inside and this is on top of the fact that he spilled a bunch of epoxy rocket glue inside the minivan, so it smells like a distillery . . . so basically my son is destroying all our cars.

Late Night Learnin'

Last night was a very educational Pub Night . . . here are a few of the things I learned:

1) there is an app called TouchTunes which allows you to control the pub jukebox from your phone;

2) "Love Potion Number 9" is one of the worst songs on that jukebox;

3) The Park Pub has a drink special, which is only advertised on the TouchTunes app . . . the special is "Buy Two / Drink Two . . . All week";

4) eating a White Rose burger after the pub wreaks havoc on my digestive system . . . I've already learned this lesson, but every three years or so, I have to relearn it;

5) I also learned a bunch of little things which are too numerous to list, but here a re a few: Paul can make a little Mexican pizza in five minutes; back in the day, Linda Carter was really hot; everybody loves to sing "Suspicious Minds"; and you should watch Barry season 2 episode 5, even if you haven't seen the show.

Late Night Learnin'

Parallel Gluttony with a Dash of Surrealism

Friday, I got home from my four hour workshop on how to teach the Rutgers Composition class, ate some lunch and crawled into bed for a nap-- I was all tuckered out from Thursday night . . . we took a tour of the Cypress Brewery-- which involved much sampling of the wares-- then went to the pub (I dropped a dart on my foot and, unfortunately, I was wearing sandals, there was some blood) and then ate a bacon cheeseburger and some fries at White Rose . . . an epic evening for middle-aged men-- meanwhile, as I slept through the afternoon, my kids and their friend Tibby were out on the town, determined to spend their allowance; they walked all the way to White Rose for lunch-- which is quite a haul, especially in the heat-- and on the way they found a wallet in the street, and they looked inside and ascertained the address of the owner from her ID . . . she lived on the North Side, by the Middle School, and she also happened to be a little person (dwarf also seems to be okay when describing someone very short, but the "midget" is politically incorrect) and they decided they should return the wallet to the little lady, but first they would follow a rule of thumb very close to my heart: Eat first, then do a good deed . . . so they ate their burgers, then walked across town and delivered the wallet back to the little lady, who Ian described as very kind and thankful, but slightly witch-like, with a boil on her nose and some green cupcake batter on the side of her face . . . and she was so pleased with the return of her wallet that she gave the boys a twenty dollar reward, and they applied another commonly used heuristic to that situation: Found Money? Spend That Cheddar! and so the three of them went straight to Baskin Robbins and spent twenty dollars on ice cream (they ordered elaborate sundaes that sounded more like bowls of candy with a dollop of ice cream tossed in for good measure) and then, to finish the adventure, they went to the comic book store . . . so a gluttonous twenty-four hour cycle for all the males in my household, but while I needed a nap to recover, Alex and Ian said they had no ill effects from throwing a shit-ton of ice cream and candy on top of a greasy burger and fries . . . the joys of youth.

Where's The Beef . . . From?

Here at Sentence of Dave, the staff occasionally provides more than the usual drivel, and this is one of those occasions; in the past, I revealed the shocking nature of beef brisket and today I will discuss another cut of meat, the hanger steak . . . Wikipedia explains that "it is derived from the diaphragm of the steer" . . . but "diaphragm steak" sounds disgusting (and is also difficult to spell) and so it has more conveniently been referred to as skirt steak and "the butcher's cut" because it has long been a butcher's secret as to how delicious it tastes . . . I got to try this steak at The Frog and The Peach-- a well-regarded rather expensive restaurant that I would ordinarily never visit, but because it was Restaurant Week in New Brunswick, they had a 35$ Prix Fixe menu and so Catherine and I decided to treat ourselves, and it was well worth it-- the hanger steak, which is very lean and has the potential to be tough if it's not marinated and cooked right, was sensationally good-- I don't eat much beef these days and I almost never eat a steak, but if I could eat one of these every night, I would: hanger steak is super lean (and I hate any fat on my meat) and very firm and consistent . . . essentially it's steak that looks and tastes as little like a chunk of cow as possible, and that's the way I like my beef; coincidentally, the night before, I was out late at the Park Pub, and on the way home I got a cheeseburger from White Rose-- and it was late enough that it was technically the same day as our outing to The Frog and The Peach, and so in a short span I consumed two very different grades of beef . . . with a substantial price difference between the two meals . . . a White Rose cheeseburger costs $3.05, including tax (I had to borrow a nickel from Connel) and so it was less than 10% of what the hanger steak cost me . . . and though White Rose doesn't point out what cut of meat they use in their burgers, the important part of the story is that both meals were equally delicious.

It's Best Not To Complain

If you read yesterday's post, then you'll be happy to know that when I ordered two eggs and cheese on a roll (salt pepper ketchup) at the White Rose System, and the cook misheard me and gave me TWO entire egg and cheese sandwiches (I thought it was weird that it cost $4.49 but didn't say anything) instead of one sandwich with two eggs on it, I didn't give the extra sandwich back-- instead I remained silent and ate them both.

Secret Park

I thought I knew my way around Highland Park (it's only a mile square) but-- based on some information from one of the elementary school teachers-- we found a new park (new to us); it's right behind the White Rose System and it has an old school merry-go-round and a cool rock wall for the kids to climb and some kind of fenced in court and it's shaded by huge trees and it was full of Asian grandmothers watching their grandchildren.