aaron is online

I just got back from Ben & Mel’s house where we recorded episode 9 of “the ben parsons podcast.”  I really like doing this, and am very appreciative of Ben for the opportunity.  The whole podcast thing just seems pregnant with possibility.  I don’t know that I’ll be able to take advantage of those possibilities, but either way, it’s really fun, and hopefully people will enjoy listening to it as much as we like making it.

This week, we make our attempt at a slightly more organized show.  I’m not sure we succeeded, but we tried our best.  We went through some topics beforehand so that Ben knew what I was ready to talk about, and jumped right into the show.  (Recording a podcast is a lot like a 1st date in that you have a backlog of conversation topics ready to go in the event of some awkward silence.  If I tell Ben what I’m prepared to talk about ahead of time, he, as a skillful host, can steer the dialogue in that direction.  Just a little background for ya’ll.)  We hit some old favorites – “Shelton Stories,” “That’s Messed Up,” and “Express Lane Traffic Report” – as well as the return of the new worldwide mega-hit: “Ask a Midwife” with Mel answering some fantastic, real-life listener emails.

As always, go to benparsons.com to have a listen, or do what all the cool kids are doing: subscribe to “the ben parsons podcast” on iTunes.

Thanks for listening!

It’s that time of year again: most of the leaves have fallen off of the trees leaving towering, naked statues, a testament to the courage and longsuffering of Mother Nature, and the crisp air carries the essence of firewood on its back as it blusters through the neighborhood streets.

Or, if you live in Florida, it’s still kinda warm.

Either way, this Thursday marks the anniversary of the Native Americans cramming the white man so full of food that he would eventually die of congestive heart failure and Type 2 diabetes and no longer be a threat.  This year, I wanted to share my recipe for what could be the most flavorful & moist turkey you’ve ever had, although my Uncle Ken does cook one hell of a bird (and my favorite giblet gravy in the world).

If you’ve never brined a turkey, then shame on you.  It takes almost no effort, and after it’s cooked, you will wonder how so much juicy flavor could possibly be retained in something that’s been in a hot oven for hours!  All you need is some stock, a few spices and a clean 5-gallon bucket.

Also, do me a favor please don’t cook your stuffing in the turkey’s nethers.  I know it’s called “stuffing,” but you really should think of it more as “stuffing your face” and not “stuffing this bread up a bird’s ass.”  It will only draw moisture out of your turkey, and the stuffing will never get crispy, ever.

Think you’re down?  Then pull up your socks, and get the recipe HERE.

I hope you give it a whirl – it’s really easy, and tasty to the maxx, brah.  (An extra “x” you say?  I know… It’s that good.)

SEXY UPDATE: My Aunt Cheryl, Cousin Sarah, AND Mother-in-Law Hope are all going to bust out this recipe this year!  Hooray women in my family!

A few nights ago, I was asked to be a guest on episode #8 of my friend Ben Parson’s podcast, “the ben parsons podcast.”  If audio-on-demand is your thing, give it a listen over at benparsons.com (or on iTunes).

I think it turned out really well.  Considering it was my first attempt, I don’t think it sounds like I blew it.  It actually turned out better than I thought it would, and it didn’t seem to be too long, clocking in at just over an hour.  We got off on some tangents, but we’ll reign it in a bit more in the future.

Besides being my first appearance on what will eventually replace radio, this episode also marks the debut of a new segment called “Ask a Midwife” starring BP’s smokingly hot wife Mel, who was actually a part of the whole show, not just her segment.  (You should email questions for Mel to read on the next ‘cast at askamidwife@gmail.com.)

Well, Ben was nice enough to ask me back, so I’ll be appearing in future episodes, and hopefully we’ll be able to provide some more ear-splittingly irreverant hijinks from our gang to yours!

Last Friday night, my friend William decided to shut down Flowers (because he basically runs the joint), and had a private birthday party for Iris, who is a server there.  She wanted to have a hip-hop dance party, so Will asked me if I could provide the soundtrack.*  I was excited to do so, and being both white and a fan of rap music, went to work on getting some songs together that were both “hot joints” and “super-duper.”

The night turned out to be really, really fun.  Everyone seemed to have a great time, and there was a ton of dancing – a substantial amount of which was done by Rachel & Meagan. People dug the song selection, which is all I wanted, but my favorite thing about the night would have to be this:

William hates “Whatever You Like” by T.I.  I know this because he told me.  Since I am a good friend, I made sure to bring the song with me so I could play it.  Before I even had the chance to cue it up, his girlfriend Emily came over and requested it.

Well…

The song came on and two things happened: 1) the dance floor broke out into a sing-along frenzy akin to something the worshippers of Ba’al might have thrown together, and 2) William, struggling to deal with the unbearable pain of being sonically harpooned, stood behind the bar defeated, wishing at that moment, while everyone around him was writhing in ecstasy, he was anywhere but in his shoes.

The whole night was a blast, and it was my first opportunity to DJ a party since a dance my elementary school had when I was in 6th grade.  (I thought I would be really clever, and play Genesis’s “I Can’t Dance” as the first song!  At a dance!!  …It didn’t go ever well.  Also, Justin Bealor asked Miss Moore to slow-dance and she said YES!  We were so jealous.)

* For anyone who might be interested, I used a really simple but totally awesome piece of software called djay.  Like most “built for Mac” software it’s very intuitive and does way more than it should for $50.

My friend Ben has invited me to join him on his most excellent podcast this week, and I am honored to comply.  My debut just so happens to coincide with the unveiling of a new segment called “Ask a Midwife: Sex Ed. with Mel,” and we need your input!

Do me a favor so they can start this right, and please email any question about sex, reproduction, sex, childbirth, sex, or even the business of midwifery to:

askamidwife@gmail.com

You can stay anonymous by signing “anonymous” (Mel will see your email address, but she’ll keep it on the DL – she’s a total professional), but the podcast is officially recommending those funny pseudonyms like “Ben Dover” and “President Barack Hussein Obama.”

Thanks, everybody!

Like I said, I’m new to this whole “weblogging phenomenon”, and I’m dealing with the issue of what exactly to post.  Should I only write about things that matter, or at least have some gravitas, or is this type of vehicle for the mundane as well (which I know it is, but don’t know whether or not I can take part in what I feel is lowering the bar for all of civilization)?

Maybe I’m thinking too much.  Maybe I should just post something, and let its merits be decided in the grand scheme of things.  Or maybe, it’s my responsibility as the author to try and make the dull interesting.  I don’t know.  So, anyway:

Yesterday afternoon, Meagan and I went to watch the Seahawks game at a bar a few blocks from my house called “Leny’s.”  It’s my new favorite place; it’s my Casa Bonita.  Firstly, it reminds me of Philadelphia (my home culture) in both attitude and clientele.  Some of the patrons were pretty damn salty, and most of them gave the impression that they would have been there, and just as drunk, whether there was a game on or not (but in Seattle, drunkenness doesn’t necessarily equal raging voilence, unlike Philadelphia where “spinach : Popeye :: alcohol : short, insecure Italian men”).  The atmosphere was fun and attentive, which is refreshing for a public sports-viewing in Seattle, as a great deal of the population wouldn’t know the difference between a left guard and a punt returner if they were eaten by one.  But, not at this joint.  Everyone was really into the game, even the bartender who ran around the whole place after every touchdown doling out hi-fives and $1 pints!

Speaking of the beer, it is plentiful and cheap.  Besides the $1 post-touchdown pints, they serve these 33.8 oz, Oktoberfest-style mugs of beer for a whopping $4!  And, the food was good, too!  It was like being back on the east coast at a dive bar that isn’t just called a “dive bar” because they threw some shit up on the wall and don’t clean their floors.  They don’t charge $4.50 for a can of PBR, and they have not one, but 3 totally creepy old guys who stared at my wife the whole game.  A good time was had by all!

Leny’s was authentic.  It was fun, and it was cheap.  I’m sure I’ll head over there next week, and bring some more folks with me.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

BONUS: Here’s a link to a review on Yelp by a guy named Ben.  He compares a Seattle “dive bar” to a dive bar in Detroit.  It’s funny because it’s true.

Hi.  Welcome to my new website.  It’s nothing fancy, but I hope you give it a shot.  I’ll be making some improvements over the next few weeks, so stay tuned.

I don’t quite know how I feel about this yet.  Blogging seems to me to be inherently douchey.  But, it doesn’t seem right to pass judgment on what seems to be the future of “nobody asked you” without really giving it a shot, so I’ll be writing some op-ed pieces, and posting any fun things I might be working on that don’t completely suck, or links to things that I think are worth linking to.

If you enjoy anything you see here, please let me know.  If you disagree with an opinion I may have, please know that I’m aware of one thing in this world: I could always be wrong.  I would love to hear what you have to say, but if you want to convince me that you’re right, that’s going to take a little effort on your part; “because I said so” isn’t going to cut it.

Also, feel free to subscribe to the RSS feed (it’s so 2.0).  All the kids are doing it…

…that and “cheese.”

Last night, America elected its first black president. Historic indeed, but at first I didn’t get it. Race isn’t supposed to matter, right? We weren’t voting for a black man, we were voting for a president. But, 95% of the African-American vote is pretty telling, if you ask me. I don’t think you can argue against the fact that some people voted for Barack Obama simply because he was black, just as some people voted for John McCain because he wasn’t. But why?  Why is this so important to so many people?

As I watched the evening unfold, I saw interview after interview with pioneers of the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 60s – old, black men and women who were, in some instances, beaten to within an inch of their lives for standing up for racial equality. Men and women whose friends were killed for no reason other than they were black and unapologetic.

Then, interviewers asked these people the same question, over and over again:

“Did you ever think you would live to see this day?”

And, incredibly, every time, the same answer:

“No.”

These people, who would have given their lives, and in fact, many of their friends and family members did, were all doing it while never expecting to hear the crescendo, praying that one day future generations would reap the rewards of the seeds they were sowing. Facing their own mortality, they planted their feet, and stood their ground for one thing: Hope.

Last night, they saw their dreams bloom in a Chicago park. Not just because one of them was going to become president, but because people – all people – joined them and walked down the path they cleared for us. We as a nation came together and said that we were willing to stand our ground and, although it may not be easy, we will make things better, maybe not for ourselves, but for our future: OUR future. All of us.

It’s the kind of thing that couldn’t have happened any other way. For a long, long time, up until the election results came in, the question was almost a joke – could this country ever overlook race elect a black man president? Could we ever truly fulfill Dr. Martin Luther King’s dream and be a nation that would look past the color of someone’s skin and to the content of their character?

Today, the answer is yes.

Yes we can.