Considering I was given a heap of beef as compensation for my participation, I felt kind of guilty tapping out a one liner, waving good-bye and taking my beef home. I am a man of integrity. I earn my meat the old fashioned way: by making absurd videos. 

So I made one. This one's called "Beef. It's What's For Dinner... and a LOT of Other Things."

And if you came here thinking you'd get a recipe or two, you know me well. I'm all about spreading the food knowledge and love. I've got two finger-food recipes that will make you a hit at parties. Unless you're the one who was supposed to bring the alcohol. In which case you'll get yelled at for bringing this "fancy beef crap" instead of booze. Tread carefully.

But first, the giveaway. Because I know you only love me for my meat.

I will be giving away a $100 Omaha Steak gift card to one lucky reader. Just leave a comment telling me about your favorite memory making everyday occasions special with beef. Really, who hasn't had those?

For extra entries, you can do the following, worth one entry each:

1. Follow the Beef people on Twitter.
2. Become a fan of the Beef people on Facebook.
3. Ask Chef Dave Zino, executive chef of the National Cattlemen's Beef Association a beef cooking question.

Just let me know which of the above you did and I will grant you that many more entries.

Contest deadline is Wednesday, March 3, 11:59pm.

Recipe 1: Beef Curry Puffs

When I graduated from college and became part of the adult world, it meant bringing Doritos and Rolling Rock to parties would no longer suffice. So I threw a bunch of my favorite things together and created these. I've since discovered that these actually exist, but screw it. I'll just consider myself awesome for inventing them.

Ingredients:

• 1 lb ground beef
• 1/2 to 3/4 cup chopped onion (I never get scientific with ingredients - just feel it)
• 2 Tbs curry powder
• 1 Tsp cumin (yes, I know curry powder has cumin in it. I just like extra cumin. Cumin rocks)
• Approx. 4 oz. Mango Chutney (or half a 9 oz. bottle)
• 1 package puff pastry sheets
• 1 egg

- Unwrap the puff pastry and set on the counter to defrost (40 min before you need to use it).
- Sauté the onions in butter or canola oil until translucent. About 2 min.
- Add the beef.
- Once the beef begins to brown, add the curry powder and cumin.

Look at that cascade of awesome goodness.- Once the spices have been integrated into the meat, add the Mango Chutney. I like my curries sweet (I LOVE Thai Curry dishes that use coconut milk), so I tend to add more Chutney than the average person would. So use the 4 oz. as a guide. Add some, taste, add some more, taste, etc. That's what makes cooking fun.
- Remove from heat. Let the mixture cool.
- Cut the puff pastry dough into approx. 2" x 2" squares.
- Scoop a small spoonful of meat into the center of a square and pinch the sides together in a triangle. Place onto a greased baking sheet (Pam spray is best).

- Beat the egg in a bowl and add a teensy bit of water. Use a pastry brush to lightly brush the egg wash on top of the pastries.

- Place sheet into a preheated 400 degree oven.
- Find a corner to sit in for 15 minutes and spend some quality time with the dog.

- When the pastries are golden brown, they are ready. And crazy delicious.

Recipe 2: Surf 'n Turf Handrolls

I love sushi. But I realize that not everyone likes raw fish. This is my version of a more "made for TV" handroll featuring all cooked ingredients. And of course, beef, which is unusual for sushi. But then again, I'm unusual for a mom blogger, so there.

Ingredients:

• 10 Handroll-sized nori (seaweed) sheets (Most Asian markets have these. If you can't find any cut to handroll size, you can just do it yourself. They are roughly a 4" x 8" rectangle.)
• An 8 oz. ribeye, or similar steak, grilled and sliced into strips
• 1 avocado, peeled and cut into strips
• Fresh chives (not chopped)

• Sushi rice:
  • 2 cups short grain rice
  • 2 cups water
  • 1/4 cup rice vinegar
  • 2 Tbs sugar
  • 1/2 Tsp salt

• Spicy shrimp mixture:
  • 1/4 cup mayonnaise (if you have an Asian market near you, get Kewpie Japanese mayo. If not, regular mayo works).
  • 1 Tsp chili paste (Sriracha sauce preferred. most markets, even regular American supermarkets, sell it nowadays. Or use Tabasco.)
  • 2 Tsp tobiko (flying fish roe -- those little red granules that coat the outside of your California Roll)
  • 1/2 Tsp Mirin (sweet Japanese cooking wine -- I have also found this in American supermarkets. If not, then use honey)
  • 1/2 lb cooked shrimp, chopped
  • 2 Tsp chopped fresh chives

• Sweet "Pickles"
  • 1 Cucumber, peeled, seeded and cut into 4" strips
  • 4 Tbl rice vinegar
  • 2 Tbl sugar
  • 1/4 Tsp salt

To make the sushi rice:

- Cook the rice, set aside.
- Add the water, sugar, vinegar and salt to a saucepan and heat until sugar dissolves.
- Let it cool.
- Slowly add the liquid to the rice. And fold it in. Don't add all of it. Add it until it rice is damp but not wet. You don't want soupy rice. You're actually going to discard most of that liquid. It's just hard to measure those ingredients in small quantities to cook.

To make the Spicy Shrimp:

First, here's a pic of the harder-to-find ingredients (Kewpie, Tobiko, Sriracha). Since I live in CA, where there is significant demand for Asian foods in the mainstream, your average supermarket might carry this stuff. And if not, there are Asian markets everywhere. I realize the rest of the country isn't so lucky with the ethnic foods being a stone's throw away from any point in the city.

- Combine all ingredients in a bowl. That's it!

To make the Sweet "Pickles":

- Sprinkle the cucumbers generously with salt (around 2 tsp will do) and set aside for 15 min. The salt will draw the moisture out.
- Rinse the cucumbers thoroughly to get the salt off.
- Add all the ingredients in a bowl and add the cucumbers. Let it sit for a few hours ideally, but these taste good even after 15 min.

Assembly:

- Lay down one nori sheet lengthwise in front of you. Lay some rice down on the left side. Kind of spread/smoosh it. The left side of the rectangle should have rice and the right side should be empty.
- Diagonally lay a strip of steak, an avocado, a pickle and a chive onto the rice, oriented in an 11 o'clock to 5 o'clock position.
- Spoon some shrimp mixture on top.
- Grab a grain of rice and smoosh it into the opposite corners. See circled areas in diagram below. These will serve to glue the ends together after you roll it.
- Bring the lower left corner up to the middle-top (see arrow below). It will form a cone. Then just keep rolling that cone and secure the edges (the smooshed rice).

- That's it! After writing all this, I realized that this is highly complicated. I guess that's why sushi is so expensive. Oh well.  If you're ever in town, I'll make it for you for a bag of Doritos and a 6-pack of Rolling Rock.

What's the best part of the movies? The previews. Roll 'em...

Will Blog for Meat - The Movie

They made him an offer he couldn't refuse. Free meat. Now he's got 3 days to prove to the world that when the lovely ladies at The Motherhood approached him during the Tastemaker potato cook-off to make the meat video of the decade on behalf of the National Cattlemen's Beef Association (you know, the Beef, It's What's for Dinner people), that they were of sober sound mind and body.

I've got a video camera, a ton load of beef, a sharp knife and lots of beer. See what comes of it. The video will be called "Everything's Better with Beef" and it opens August 28, on internets everywhere.

Bribe-o-rama: I will be giving away a $100 Omaha Steak gift card to one lucky reader. That's roughly what's pictured above. And I will make you do things to win it. Videos can be sent directly to me in discreet plain brown paper packaging. Or, if you'd like to take the high road, you can leave a comment below telling me about your favorite memory making everyday occasions special with beef. Have fun with it. I will pull one at random.

For extra entries, you can do the following, worth one entry each:

1. Follow the Beef people on Twitter.
2. Become a fan of the Beef people on Facebook.
3. Ask Chef Dave Zino, executive chef of the National Cattlemen's Beef Association a beef cooking question.

Just let me know which of the above you did and I will grant you that many more entries. Just be honest about it. I'm wielding a 9" chef's knife. Just sayin...

Disclaimer: I got paid in meat to make recipes and film myself. Note to marketers and PR people. I never turn down free meat.

Project GreySkull

In May 2000, right before my 10th high school reunion, I decided I was sick and tired of my flat shiny hair and shaved it all off. The immediate cost savings in hair salon and gel costs was encouraging. Looking kind of badass was also a bonus.

A decade later, a few months before my 20th high school reunion, I'm looking at life a bit differently. I'm not young anymore. And I'm more dad than bad. I'm also going grey. This upon first glance may seem like a negative, but then I think why shoot for Vin Diesel when you can shoot for George Clooney?

So now as I enter the dreaded awkward "no man's land" stage between baldness and stylable length hair, I am putting it out there that I am doing this. Otherwise, I will chicken out and shave it again the first time some kid tries to blow seeds off the top of my dandelion head. There's no point to this post. It serves only to keep me on track. My apologies for those of you who feel like pawns in my little game. Maybe you can help me pick a new hairstyle?

There is a community living among us that few outside observers have successfully documented, let alone infiltrated. It is a collective of beings who organize themselves in complex social networks based upon tribes and niches. They frolic on Pandora, but can also be found on Twitter, Facebook , Flickr and other imaginary worlds. And their lifeblood is a seemingly infinite energy source called comments and connection. This community I speak of is the world of women bloggers. And I ran among them for three days.

This is my story.

Prologue

You can say I was recruited for this mission four months ago. Selected by the US Potato Board to participate in the Tastemaker Challenge, I was the sole male representative out of nine contestants pitted against each other to do creative things with potatoes and put them on YouTube. After I had accepted the assignment, there was a conference call.

“And for the final challenge, we’re sending you all to cook live. At Blissdom.”

The Adventure

Before I knew it, I was placed into a metal sleep chamber with the words Southwest painted on the side. When I awoke, I found myself in Nashville, TN, carrying a swag bag containing a “smoky eyes” kit, facemask creams, binkies and bling. My mission had begun. As I explored this new world called the Opryland Resort, I couldn’t help but notice how sharp the color-coded rugs were, and how 3-D the vegetation looked under the resort’s bio-domed enclosure.  

I knew I had little time to waste, but was hesitant to just jump feet-first into this community. Sure, my feet were sporting new shoes I bought just for Blissdom, but just because you look the part, doesn’t mean the tribe will accept you.  

Luckily this acclimation period was made a lot easier by friends I had on the inside. Julie made the cross-country journey with me, and I had Tanis, Rachel and Melanie on speed dial. No matter how confident, one must never step into a conference full of women bloggers without someone to vouch that you're a "friend of ours." It worked for Donnie Brasco, it works for BusyDad.

My first day was spent simply adjusting to the environment. Diving right into an estrogen fueled crowd has seriously scarred brave predecessors of mine. And like the bends, it can mess with your blood. By the late evening, however, I had taken a good dose of Jack Daniel's magic elixir and thus began my night of exploration. To my pleasant surprise, the crowd was very friendly. And I never once had to dig into my aresnal of secret ninja moves from the government.

But they did make me learn their ways. My mind was an empty vessel. I was thirsty for knowledge. And, as it turns out, not at all allergic to feathers.

(That's me bein' gangsta fabulous with Rachel. I posed this way because
when Secret Agent Mama asks you to pose for a picture, you don't say no.)

Here's one of me just having a great time with the natives. I don't remember when this was taken. I don't really remember taking it. The official reason on the post-mission brief is: the oxygen on that planet is too thin and I was lightheaded. Go with it.


(Mishi, Rachel, Melanie and me. Because everyone celebrates the unveiling of Google Buzz by getting...)

The next day, I was feeling a lot more comfortable in my new skin. Mostly because I got to do what I came to do: cook. The Tastemaker Challenge finals took place Friday night and it was everything you'd ever want in a cooking showdown. An array of ingredients, fanfare, drink tickets and my very own Team Jim cheerleading squad.

(Lotus, Tanis and Mishi. I had to beg them repeatedly not to kneecap the other contestants. Especially Tanis, who was weilding a bedazzled pimp cane all weekend. I still have welts.
Not pictured, Vodkamom... and my welts.)

 (My assignment was to use feta cheese in a potato salad. Note exasperation on face and 3rd vodka gimlet next to small bowl. Pic courtesy of Secret Agent Mama.)

When the dust settled, I was waist-deep in random chopped up items. I figured if my dish wasn't going to win, I would at least have fun with the fact that I didn't have to clean up my mess. Plus, I have this thing for blades.

Even though I didn't win, the victories went to two very deserving competitors: Jo Lynne won in the video category, racking up the most votes over the past three months, and Rachel won the evening's judging with this dish.

[insert more random stuff in here so that people don't realize that you don't remember much between that and the next picture.]

The next day can be summed up with one word: Karaoke

(Yeah. I know. Watch the video. Pic courtesy of Rachel.)

If you couldn't tell from this post, I had an amazing time mixing and mingling with the women of Blissdom. Admittedly, I was very apprehensive going into it. While I had been to Blogher before, there is a growing male contingent at that conference, so at least you have your school of fish to hide in if needed. This time, however, I was literally the only male on the registration list of 500. While I knew that my closer friends would be ok with this, I really wasn't sure how the others would take to my crashing the party. On the final evening, I shared this sentiment with a small group who had assembled in Blissdom founders Alli Worthington and Barbara Jones' suite.

"I wasn't sure if I'd be accepted here..." I muttered.

"We don't just accept you, we welcome you, Jim" Alli responded.

 This blue facepaint? I'm totally keeping it.

Don't get me wrong. I don't harbor any disdain for those who are devout in their beliefs. In fact, I quite admire someone who can devote themselves to their faith, in the same way I admire that French spiderman guy who free-climbs skyscrapers. Church just simply scares the crap out of me. I'm talking about cold sweats, vertigo. I'm talking about my blood pressure rising when I set foot in a church. My face flushing. Feeling light headed.

As most people have the complete opposite reaction to churches, I have often been asked why of all things a spiritual sanctuary like this can frighten me so. The simple answer is I am spiritually inept. I suck at all things church. I grew up Catholic. And while I have always been good with anything that you need to study out of a book, I was always bad at Sunday School. Failed every quiz. Asked the wrong questions. Couldn't tell my apostles from my saints from my disciples. And the teachers and other kids made it known that I sucked. Being the only Asian kid in a working class Irish neighborhood might have contributed a teensy bit to the post Sunday-school teasing and beat downs that I suffered while waiting for my mom to pick me up, but since I was on church grounds, I considered it church jurisdiction.

And when it came time to re-register for Sunday School one spring day (I think they called it CCD back then?). I simply said no. I was in fourth grade then, so I knew I was facing one hell heck of a maelstrom by saying no, but I stuck to my guns. I had never, nor have I since, openly defied my mother. Self preservation is a strong instinct.

And for close to two decades, I admired churches from afar, or on postcards.

Then I got married. To a Filipino woman. And they'll give the Boston Irish a run for their money on the Catholic devotion front any day. I love Lisa's family and they don't beat me down when I skip church when we visit on the holidays (it helps that I'm usually cooking them a vat of my Killa Clam Chowda while they're worshipping), so the whole Catholicism thing in general isn't as scary anymore. But on the few occasions where I have gone to church in my adult life (weddings, funerals, etc), I suffer that entire list of symptoms they read at the end of designer pharmaceutical ads. Including oily discharge.

Seeing as we have a kid together, the inevitable question of Fury's religious upbringing was one challenge that Lisa and I had to face early on. I respect her religious views. And while I'm of the opinion that Fury should pick whatever religion HE feels will fulfill him spiritually, I am willing to give Catholisicm a head start, since his mom is Catholic. And he's really too young to make that decision for himself now anyway. Hell, I'M too young to make that decision. Heck, I mean heck. Sorry.

So we got him baptized when he was a baby. Part of that required his parents (yes, me) to attend baptism classes. And for the love of my wife and son, I sucked it up and did it. And I attended the baptism too. And did not pass out. Or go up in flames.

Now we've got another little one on the way.

And Lisa made arrangements for soon-to-be baby Alessia's baptism. I figured, "ok, one afternoon in church. Just hold your breath, smile and it'll all be over quickly." But no. I have to take the class again. This time, they're requiring two classes.

So last night, parked outside the church, I took several slow deep breaths to get my heart rate down.

"Seriously?" she asked.

"Seriously." I responded.

I joked that once I set foot in that church, lightning would strike me down. Lisa said "I know. Sinner." In her deadpan I'm-joking-but-you-are-still-going-to-hell manner.

As I took a seat at the table, I could feel my face beginning to flush, my fingertips going numb. But as class went on, I have to admit that the modern Catholic church is a lot kinder and gentler than I remember from the 70s. I was going to make it. I mumbled through the prayers (like when I used to lip synch in chorus) and sat through the baptism powerpoint presentation. But I had to chuckle then this slide came up:

"I renounce the Prince of Darkness"

Whoa. whoa. whoa. What's Ozzy got to do with it? No way. He rocks. And even if the Dalai Lama himself told me to stop playing "Crazy Train" to my son, I'd tell him to go pick on Nirvana or something.

Mumble mumble prince of mumble mumble...

I was doing OK. This class wasn't that bad. God is not going to call me out. I see the finish line...

"WWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAA  WAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

Yup. The fire alarm.

When judgment day arrives, you'll find me at the back of the southbound bus playing sudoku with Ozzy Osbourne.

Step 1: Round up the Boyz.

Boyz nights outs are best when shared by, well, your boyz. Guys who have had your back since day one. Guys like Jaden and Jack. Jack isn't pictured below because I don't think he was born yet when this was taken.

Once comfortably seated (and in some cases, booster seated), you begin your road trip. Make sure you all pre-emptive pee before you get on the road. You can bitch and moan all you want that you don't have to go right now, but the elder won't stop the car because then you'll all miss the pit party. So go pee. Now. I said go.

Step 2: Talk about girls.

Jaden: [some name this author can't remember] has a crush on me.

Fury: Oh I've seen her before, she is H-O-T (make sure to spell out words that might embarrass you in front of the elder). I saw her in your yearbook.

Jaden: Yeah, she is H-O-T alright.

Jack: Yup. I think she is H-O-T too.

Step 3: Trucks. Big. Ass. Trucks.

And buy program books for the drivers to sign. Just like those autograph books at Disneyland, but without all the over-the-top cartoony animal characters.

I know...

I said I know. But this is different. They crush stuff.

And there is nothing cooler than getting the autograph of those who crush stuff and do jumps. Trust me.

Except for maybe being within 10 feet of the most awesomest, meanest, wicked coolest thing ever in the whole wide world, aka Gravedigger.

Step 4: Be Rowdy

Find a venue that enables you to toss that "inside voice" out the window.

And scream and shout. Or snarl. Whichever best suits your mood.

Step 5: Embrace Excess.

Nothing like a nice good explosion to usher in the evening's festivities.

A little substance abuse never hurt anyone. Permanently.

And there's no such thing as too much horsepower...

or sick air...

or GRAVEDIGGER!!

Step 6: Witness a Bouncer Swarm

So we're exiting the men's room during intermission when I hear the familiar sound of "drunk and disorderly" meets "security staff fed up with your shenanigans." As this was taking place not 10 feet from us, I instinctually grabbed the 3 young 'uns to get them out of melee range. This was immediately met with "aw, I wanna see what's going on!" and "oooh! what's happening!" and "cool, a fight!"

I surveyed the landscape and determined that the bouncer-to-hooligan ratio favored the quick restoration of order, so we watched the scuffle from ringside.

"You see? That's what happens when you get too drunk. You don't follow rules and get dragged out by security."

And that's one to grow on.

Step 7: Wait in long lines and blow cash on random stuff.

Here's a tip. If you ever go to a Monster Truck show, buy your souvenirs first. If you wait until the end of the evening, when 30,000 other people learn that they should have bought their souvenirs first, you'll be standing in line, all wishing you had bought your souvenirs first. But of course, even if you wait forever in line, don't start thinking about what you want to buy until you get to the front of the line. Because pressure is fun. As is agitating the guy at the booth who just wants to go home. Oh, and use your credit card because they love that.

And then stand proud. Because you have done your part to keep the machine chugging along. MOICHENDISING! Where da real money is made!

Step 8: Pee in the parking lot.

Yup.

Step 9: Denny's.

You can't call it a Boyz Night Out until you've at least attempted to eat a Moons Over My Hammy. Right?

Step 10: Pass the #$%@ Out

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.

For more Monster Jam / Boyz Night Out pics, check out my Flickr set.

The first time I opened the box to my iPod Classic back in 2006, I knew our relationship was doomed. What Apple designers may call slick, compact, modern design, I call "slippery heavy sucker." But amazingly we survived, against all odds. Through 3 jobs, commutes on the LA Metro, cross country flights and a gadget obsessed child.

Maybe I got comfortable, maybe I got complacent, or maybe that movie Final Destination also applies to consumer electronics. But it finally happened. Right before Christmas. I was walking to the car, iPod and Blackberry in one hand (first mistake). I spied a piece of Fury's toy helicopter on the walkway and decided that maybe he'd want it (second mistake). I bent over to pick it up (3 strikes, you're out). That mo-men-tary loss of muscular coordination sent the iPod and Blackberry on a irrecoverable slide. I hope I'm never faced with grasping onto 2 of my children over a cliff's edge with only the strength to rescue one of them, because now I know what that feels like. I caught the Blackberry.

They say the first stage of grief is denial. As the internal drive of my iPod clicked and sputtered in a futile attempt to finish its last Guns n Roses song, I placed it in the cradle next to the car stereo. I drove with that clicking iPod for a week. Like a dead hamster you leave in its cage in hopes that maybe tomorrow it'll wake up, I got in the car each morning and flicked the iPod a few times.

The second stage of grief is plunking down $224 for a replacement on Amazon.com. And donating the old one to science.

"Fury if you can fix this, it's yours."

"I think it needs a paperclip to join the wires, dad."

"Have at it, son."

At least he had fun.

Then the shiny new iPod arrived. And in the cradle it went. It didn't fit so well, or maybe it was all in my head. I put some new music on it, added some new playlists and forged the beginnings of a new partnership.

Until yesterday:

Look a little closer.

We hadn't even gotten to Guns n Roses yet.

The real crime here isn't that someone came onto our property, snooped around, smashed my window and stole something of mine. Because as violating as that feels, I'm sure it was just a couple of punkass kids who were at the right place at the right time.

The real crime here isn't that the timing was so bad. Had they done this just a week ago, they would have stolen a broken iPod and the joke would have been on them.

The real crime here isn't that I'm now out $224 for the iPod and $245 for the replacement window. It sucks, but at least my family is safe.

The real crime?

I now have to listen to L.A. radio.

They drew first blood.

The above is what I like to call the Frankenstein of meals. Essentially a nice meal of pesto mashed potatoes, herbed chicken tenders and bruschetta... that got into a car wreck. Think Reese's, but with more garlic. At least you can eat it with your hands.

And this is how we got there:

I hope you had fun watching my Tastemaker Challenge videos. Please be sure to rate them if you have a YouTube account. This is a contest and I get a vote for each person who rates my videos. I don't actually win anything, unless you count recognition in potato innovation. But hell yeah, that's better than money and fame!

For the brave souls who would like to try making this, here's the recipe (really, I ate the above, and they are good, just like a cheeseburger, fries and shake is still a cheeseburger, fries and shake if you put it in a blender).

Pesto/Chicken/Bruschetta Open Faced Thing

Chicken:

• 1/2 lb. chicken tenders
• Flour to coat
• Italian herbs (anything you like - I used basil, oregano, thyme, parsley) - enough to mix with the flour to make it herby in appearance
• Salt and Pepper

Bruschetta

• 4 Roma tomatoes, insides scooped out, chopped
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 2 tsp minced shallots
• 1/2 cup chopped basil leaves (fresh)
• squeeze of lemon juice
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• Shredded parmesan, for sprinkling
• 4 slices of good crusty bread

Pesto Mashed Potatoes

• 1 lb potatoes
• 2 tablespoons butter melted
• 2 tablespoons pesto
• 3.5 oz half and half

The trick to getting this done in under 30 minutes is integrating the steps amongst the 3 items rather than making these things sequentially. I found this to be quickest:

• Pour flour into a bowl. You don't need that much, maybe a cup or so. Then add the herbs, salt and pepper into it. I never measure, but it's hard to mess this up.
• Coat the chicken lightly with this flour mixture, set aside.
• Wash hands.
• Scoop the insides of the tomatoes out, and chop.
• Chop garlic, shallots and basil.
• Throw it all into a mixing bowl and add olive oil and lemon juice.
• Stir it up, add salt and pepper to taste, and refrigerate.
• Peel potatoes and put into a covered dish. Microwave high for 8 minutes.
• During this 8 minutes, heat up oil in a skillet and place chicken in it.
• After 3 minutes or so, flip the chicken tenders over.
• They should be done around the same time as the potatoes.
• Toast the bread.
• Remove dish from microwave. Mash potatoes. Add butter, half and half, pesto as you mash. Salt and pepper to taste.
• Toast should be done by the time you finish mashing.

To assemble, take the toast, plop some mashed potatoes on top, add a chicken tender, pile on some bruschetta topping and sprinkle parmesan on top.

I was sitting at round table with the living cast members of Monty Python, Captain Kirk, Dr. Spock and 'Bones' McCoy. This table was spinning in front of us (picture the table as one big lazy susan), and there were lyrics printed on it. And the table itself? Well, it was the round part of the Starship Enterprise of course. And we were all singing the national anthem. Because that's what the rotating lyrics were.

This dream was obviously rife with symbolism, and perhaps a portent of the future. And way over my head. All I could think was "Cool table. I wonder if I could do that with the Millennium Falcon?"

But the ether was trying to tell me something. So when I got to work, I grabbed my tin of green tea leaves and spilled them on my desk. I had heard that Chinese fortune tellers can interpret messages from the spirits by doing this:

No luck there. Just looks like a bunch of leaves spilled onto a desk.

What about palm reading? On my drive home, I pass at least 3 palm reading places so there's something to be said about that, right? I opened my palm and looked intently for a roadmap to the future.

Good luck there, champ.

Come on! I've only got a few hours left to make sense of the year ahead. There are too many what-if's, too much to look forward to, so many open questions.

This is the first year where I realized that this parenting stuff is hard. Before this, Fury was malleable, and truth be told, he likely wouldn't remember my stumbles and starts as the guy who is supposed to be his moral compass and role model. But now? Not only has he formed a personality that is noticeably more than simply a reflection of me, but it is markedly different, and painfully independent. From this point on, everything I do will be firmly etched into his memory. I remember everything about second grade, and he will too. It's think twice before I speak. It's think once more before I act. It's showtime.

This is the last year I will be a parent of one. Everyone says that I will just fall into it with the new baby, but I am apprehensive. When Fury was on the way, I freelanced. I didn't have the paycheck, but I had time. I had time to go with Lisa to every pre-natal appointment (I haven't been to a single one yet!), time to wake up and walk him around the block at 5 in the morning to calm him down, time to take pictures of every milestone, time to be there for his first bite of solid food, his first words, his first steps. As it stands now, I spend 1 hour a day with Fury on the weekdays, right before work and right before bed. How does one split 60 minutes of parenting between a 7 year old and a baby?

Luckily and unluckily, Lisa got laid off this year. It at least ensures that one of us keeps this new baby from going feral. But it also means that this bill paying on time thing? It all rides on me. And not in the fun way.

So I'm looking for answers, for inspiration, for something that says 2010 is going to kick some ass.

In Gene We Trust.

I wish all of you a rockin' 2010. With pyrotechnics.

Photoshop: keeping wives embarrased to be publicly associated with characters like me safely incognito.

Fury and his Kid Test Labs cohorts TXU and Brendan recently did a video review of this awesome book by Bonnie Burton.

And I think I've reached the pinnacle of my life and can simply retire from all this now. Because the OFFICIAL STAR WARS BLOG wrote about it.

So like a spider who has laid her eggs, there is nothing more I can do but find a corner, smile and wither away.

But first, check out their review. You can even win a copy of the book, just in time for stocking stuffing, or your equivalent holiday money draining tradition.

This is my second entry in the US Potato Board's Tastemaker video contest. This month's theme was Nutrition on a Budget. And as if limiting us to only $10 to feed a family of four weren't bad enough, they challenged us to dance in our videos.

Although we'll be doing this cooking thing live at the United States Potato Board Tastemaker Party at Blissdom 2010 in Nashville, this is the ONLY time I'm dancing for anybody. So you could say this is an exclusive, except that exclusive kind of implies that people actually want to watch this travesty of rhythm I've captured on video.

(If you have a YouTube account, please rate it. We're judged by the number of ratings we garner. Thanks!)

For those of you who still thought my dish looked good even after I ruined your appetite with my nerdtastic gyrations, here's the recipe:

Korean Style Short Rib Lettuce Wraps with Sesame Soy Potato Stix and Scallion Slaw

Ingredients:

Ribs

• 2 lbs crosscut beef shortribs (most Asian/ethnic markets have these for cheap - like $2.99 a pound or something crazy like that).
• 2/3 cup soy sauce
• 3 tbls honey
• 2 tbls sesame oil
• 3 tbl brown sugar
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 bunch scallion, chopped

Combine ingredients and marinate ribs for at least 4 hours. Grill ribs until done, then cut into bite-sized pieces.

Scallion Slaw

• 1 bunch scallion
• 1 tbls soy sauce
• 1 1/2 tsp lime juice
• 1 1/2 tsp sesame oil
• 1/4 tsp sugar

Slice the green part of the scallion into thin slivers. Place in a bowl and add the other ingredients.

Potato Stix

• 2 small-med potatoes
• Sesame oil (to brush)
• Soy sauce (to brush)
• Dash of white pepper
• Salt to taste

Cut the potatoes into thin sticks and line them up on a baking pan. In a bowl, combine 3 parts sesame oil to 2 parts soy sauce. Mix vigorously to combine. Brush mixture onto potato sticks. Bake in 450 degree oven until browned. About 20 min.

Serve with lettuce leaves. Any kind will do. Simply take a leaf, add some potato stix, a few pieces of short rib, some scallion slaw, wrap it all up and shove in your mouth. Deeeelicious.

* * * *

I Guess It IS Genetic

"Is that Captain Underpants?"

"No dad, it's a Captain Underpantey. It's a poster for my new movie."

"Isn't it called Captain Underpants?"

"Captain Underpants is already trademarked so I can't use it. So mine is called Capt. Underpantey."

Just because the boy has never set foot in China doesn't mean he can't finesse the fine line of intellectual property law just like his forefathers.

And even kick it up another level:

Why do I hear Biggie Smalls singing "Federal agents mad cuz I'm flagrant" over and over in my head?

* * * *

57 Channels and Nothing On

So Thanksgiving was quite nice. We travelled up north to d Wife's relatives' house to spend the holiday, and after a crazy Thanksgiving night that saw no less than 58 relatives descend upon the house, we were all too happy to just chill for most of the next day with the TV providing a soothing backdrop for our activities or lack thereof.

The remote was passed around with no real captain at the helm throughout the day. At times, it stopped on a football game; or perhaps the news. Or a DVD. Or a Mel Gibson flick. And when dinnertime rolled around on Friday, it could have been set on any of those channels, and no one would notice nor care.

As we sat in the dining room, I glanced a few times at the TV in the den. And I didn't notice nor care that there was a man with a really bad mustache on the screen. And d wife's cousin probably didn't notice nor care that there was a really twangy bass soundtrack going on when he glanced over. In fact, nobody noticed a thing until...

OH MY GOD!

It took me a few seconds to register what was going on because dinner with the relatives and a girl-on-girl scene are two things that one's brain simply has no pre-programmed contingency for. But within 10 seconds or so, d Wife's uncle was frantically pressing buttons on the remote, her cousin was standing in front of Fury waving her arms to block his line of sight, and the rest of us were shouting "Fury, don't look at the TV!"

With the TV off and everyone back in their places at the table, we sighed in relief at a crisis averted. And Fury of course did his best to make us all feel better.

"Don't worry. I didn't see anything."

And as we all began to chuckle at this close call, he reassured us again.

"Yeah, I was looking down at my food. I didn't even notice the naked girls on the TV."

* * * *

The LA Auto Show - Wanna Go?

When I was 3, my grandfather took me for a walk in Coolidge Corner, where the neighborhood Saab dealer was located. I don't remember much from when I was 3, but I remember that day. I loved cars (my mom tells me that by 3, I could recognize most car models and makes by their hubcaps) and I remember my grandfather walking me into the dealership and annoucing to all the salesmen that his grandson could identify any car. Of course they all played along and pointed to each car and asked me what kind it was. And of course, the answer was Saab every time. These men were so "impressed" that they gave me this:

It was the scale model display Saab from the dealership. I remember thinking "why are they so impressed?? This is a Saab dealer. Of course all the cars are Saabs!" I don't know, maybe I was just a jaded, cynical 3 year old, but I loved this model Saab all the same. And it's the only toy I still have from my childhood.

What does this have to do with the LA Auto Show? Not much, actually. But I'm not the type to just dump info on you without some attempt at a relevant tie-in. I do love cars, though, and so does Fury. And since I moved to California in 1995, I have always wanted to check out the LA Auto Show. And this year we're going, FINALLY.

The 2009 LA Auto Show runs from Dec. 4-13 and I'm personally there to see concept cars for Volvo (what I drive), Audi (what I'd like to drive next) and the Fisker Karma electric car (what I want Santa to leave under my tree).

And you can too! If you want to win tickets, just leave in the comments that you would like to be in the drawing. I'll be picking a random winner to recieve an LA Auto Show Gift Pack valued at over $50 (4 general admission passes to the show, 4 shirts, a messenger bag, and other goodies).

Other highlights at this year's show include 40 new "green vehicles," the Youthmobile 2030 design challenge and a Kids Fun Zone featuring driving simulators.

I better brush up on my hubcaps.

* * * *

Everything you always never didn't want to know about me: check out my interview for Fatherhood Friday over at the Examiner.

But I've got 20 minutes before I need to jump in the car and head to work. So I'm pulling the baby picture / new blog fodder card. This is BusyBaby at 12ish weeks. We don't know the sex yet, so I can't give him/her a cool nickname. 

Is it me or is BusyBaby really developed for just 12 weeks? He/she is sucking his/her thumb and has already located the spot for optimal lumbar support.

Of course Fury is all excited. He's been asking for a little sister for some time now. Hmm spoil him much? We've tried to explain to him that the gender of the baby will be a gamble, like Vegas (shut up, he just goes for the free alcohol), but of course he's not above stirring the cosmic pot with the power of suggestion. He's been holding onto this gift he got for his little sister for months now:

Let's hope Fury can charm fate like he does the world.

And more like this:

"Well Fury, I'm just old, that's all."

"Tony Hawk is older than you and he's waaaay better."

I should never have taken him to meet Tony Hawk. Well, at least you can read about it (and witness some real skating) on Fury's new review blog:

Kid Test Labs Meets Tony Hawk