Funny...

So I went to get my hair cut at a Sports Clips chain. This is chain of stores meant for men, with TVs at every chair and all kinds of sports memorabilia around. I've gotten good haircuts here in the past. This is probably the middle of the road spot between Great Clips and Knockouts, another men's barber shop that transplants Hooters waitresses here and has them cut your hair instead of serve you wings.

So I go in to a newer location and a frumpy, middle-aged woman cuts my hair. I was a little worried at first because she had a lazy eye. Some could say this would be comparable to having a one-eye pirate cut your hair, but that seemed to me be a little much. The hair cut was great but during the process I was a little uncomfortable. Mainly because this hair stylist was...um...a...um...little...um...buxom. So whenever she had to reach up and over to cut different parts of my hair... um... her ...um ...buxomness was right in my face.

Something else that I found was another SNL clip where Natalie Portman works the counter at a Jamba Juice. All the jokes are so easily transferable to the Coffee Chain That Shall Remain Nameless. ...Well, I was going to but the vid got pulled off YouTube and it's not readily available at NBC.com either. If anyone can find it, let me know.

A Tour of Texas

I had a pretty extensive tour of Texas on Saturday.

It began when I met up with a buddy of mine at a farmer’s market in Coppell, TX (a NW suburb of Dallas) that morning. We met there to go to on our road trip to see where Dr. Pepper first began.

But while I was there, I chewed the cud with an organic coffee roaster, or more accurately, tasted the brew. After a great conversation that would surely amaze or bore someone not so into coffee, I bought about a pound and a half of some Peruvian coffee. It was great stuff: strong, natural cinnamon, chocolate and caramel flavors in the coffee. The variety of flavors blew away the beans from the Coffee Chain That Shall Remain Nameless because the beans I sell on a daily basis are roasted to fit one specific taste profile. The beans I bought at the market are roasted with the flavor profile left up in the air, like the sweet smells and smoke of roasted coffee. It’s a little more adventurous.

So anyway, two other guys and I drove a couple hours to Hico, TX (just next door to our final destination in Texas terms). Our destination: The Koffee Kup Family Restaurant. They had pies with mile-high meringue and tasty chicken fried steak, but the main reason we went there was the infamy this café used to have. The retired title of restaurant was: Koffee Kup Kafe. The infamy comes from the alliterated title and what the first letter of each of those words mean when lined up next to each other (KKK). No joke. This is Texas, mind you.

Then we set off to Dublin, TX, where Dr. Pepper was invented and is still bottled to this day. What makes this plant (more accurately a small building on a corner in a town of 3,000) unique is that the Dr. Pepper made here still uses the original recipe of Imperial cane sugar, rather than corn syrup. This gives the pop a much crisper taste and is just plain awesome. I took a tour of the ancient glass bottling machine that is only used once a month, due to the lack of bottles and the ancient nature of the parts in the machine.

In the soda fountain shop next door, I had an old fashioned Dr. Pepper, made by adding carbonated water to syrup. Ooooooohhhh yeeeeaaaahhhhh. Then I bought 8 six packs to savor for a while.

And a couple days later, back in Dallas, TX, I hit up a happy hour at a local microbrewery and tasted their ‘chili’ beer, made with jalapeños. Let me just say: jalapeno beer = awesomeness.

Connections on The Brew; Exploration; Undertow

I posted new author Jay Friesen's "Connection: Sex and Praise and Worship" on The Brew.
Jay looks at the longing for connection in music and in the desire for sex.

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I went to meet a good friend at a place called Tipperary Inn in Dallas' Lakewood neighborhood yesterday. I got there a little early so I walked around and explored a little was well rewarded.

I found a little hole in the wall coffee shop called Coffee Co. The entire store was about the size of my apartment living room but looked like a farmer's market/mercantile in the middle of a coffee shop. There were only about two tables in the small place, possibly due to the coffee roaster that took up the front part of the store.

When I walked in, the owner was roasting some Columbian beans and it smelled amazing and slightly nutty. My first thought was, 'How does this guy stay in business?' I looked at his list of coffee beans and saw the prices were slightly higher. But he did have Jamaican Blue Mountain beans (one of the most expensive beans, next to the Hawaian Kona beans and the silly Asian-monkey-digested coffee beans). I thought I'd support the little guy so I bought a 1/4 pound of the Jamaican beans ($13).

By that time, my buddy showed up to the Irish 'snug' for a beer or two. They apparently call it a 'snug' because, unlike the more open pubs, this place had partitions between seats to give privacy to the patrons. Two seats at the bar had partitions with stained glass on either side to separate them from the other bar stools.

I had a Boddingtons (really flavorful and complex) and a some other kind (can't remember the name) that had 1776 in the title.

Either I had an empty stomach before hand or the two beers I had were pretty potent. So I walked over to a used bookstore, Paperbacks Plus. I refrained from buying anything, mostly because I'd already bought two books last weekend at another used bookstore (Blue Blood, a memoir by a New York City cop, and Attack Upon Christendom by Kierkegaard). But it was great to smell that used book smell when I walked in the door. It was good to follow the maze of bookshelf hallways and find so many books that you think you might read.

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I watched Undertow last night. Great style; has a choppy, unfinished look that seems to imitate the look and feel of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre films (though Undertow is not a horror movie). Great Southern gothic tale. Not as dark and menacing as I thought it was going to be.

The Brew Goes To the Movies; Murder Mystery Dinner

I posted the first film article "The State Of Film in America" by Keith Evers (new author) on The Brew.

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Murder Mystery Dinner

So I went to a murder mystery dinner at the Cattleman’s Steakhouse in Dallas for my birthday.

It was pretty cool and not too cheesy. A few actors were mixed in with the sixty or so other dinner guests and slowly died off during dinner.

The guests quickly became just as entertaining as the show throughout the night.
There was a drunk dad there with his two teenage boys. The dad would joke around, scream and yell, “He did it!” while pointing at someone at random. And then he got into an argument with an Indian guy and asked him to step outside with him (the emcees stopped anything from happening).

Then my date and I shared a table with a lesbian couple. They were celebrating their 5th anniversary in Dallas. An ex-husband of one of them was best friends with the other and that is apparently how they met.

During a short time where all the dinner guests were instructed to look around the room for clues to a murder that took place during our salads, some thought they might find a clue in my date’s purse (which she had left hanging on the back of her chair at the table).
She realized that she left it there two or three minutes into the search of the room. The purse was open and sitting on the floor when we got back to the table. Talk about truly frightening.

To make the night interactive, regular guests were made to stand up and be interrogated by the actor playing a detective (other actors mixed in with the crowd were the actual victims and murderers in the show). Because it was my birthday, someone gave the people in charge of the show some dirt on me.

Here’s how my interrogation went:

Detective: “So, I hear you used to be a criminal reporter in Chicago.”
Me: “Yes.”
D: “And you moved around a lot. Sounds like you’re a little shifty.”
E: “Uh, yeah.”
D: “So it seems like you might have a good means and background to be able to kill someone.”
E: “Sure (There was a gasp, some chuckles, and a “That’s a confession!” heard among the other dinner guests.).”

I met an older couple in their 50s who were missionaries in Romania with Christ for the Nations (which is headquartered in south Dallas). It was also the husband’s birthday and he was wearing a bow-tie.

Stuff Worth Reading....

I've found some interesting stuff in the news over the last few weeks.

This is an article suggesting, stock- and business-wise, why The Coffee Chain That Shall Remain Nameless should swallow up Caribou Coffee.

Here's an article looking into that Coffee Chain's current promotions and how it's founder wants to save the company's soul, all the while opening more stores and tripling the store's profits.

Then I found some other news about Christianity's messy relationship with the public, the legal system and prisons.

The Dallas Observer had an article this week about an evangelical prison, somewhat based on Chuck Colson's PFM,in Houston that may be in legal trouble if an Iowa lawsuit goes through.

I saw my roommate reading this article from last year about Dallas mega-church Watermark in legal trouble over a church discipline matter. Here is the most recent update I could find on it.

New Brew; The Funny Pages

I posted a release about an upcoming Al Gore film on penguins baking in the sun on The Brew.
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Funny Pages

So there was just a lot of funny stuff happening to me lately.
So here’s some of it.

License plates I’ve seen at my church: XRAY MAN; GRUMPZ.

A solution to the Chick-fil-A problem: A friend’s Dad suggested this: Have those Moroccans start wearing turbans when they park in the lot. Have them take pictures of the restaurant when the employees come out. And then say, “Hey, I’ve got to run to the bank. But if my Land Rover starts smoking….Well, never mind.”

I went to check out The Village church in suburban DFW (Dallas/Fort Worth) with a good buddy of mine and his wife. We went to a Mexican restaurant beforehand and ate; and we drank.
I had a Amaretto Meltdown. And I was a little melted afterwards. The drink was more potent than I thought. So I was pretty happy when I sat down in the double-wide chair in The Village sanctuary. The music seemed a little loud and pounding.

A Sonic ad board read: “Loosen your belts. We’ve got double patty melts.”

I saw plastic eggs in an Easter egg hunt painted camouflage and hidden in the grass and bushes.

My church had a dramatic reading of parts of the gospel of John on Good Friday. Naturally, those involved wore all black. A song popped into my head that I didn’t tell anyone about. The song was “Back in Black” by ACDC.

Chick-fil-A Vol. 2; New Brew; Depression Series # 7

Chick-fil-A Vol. 2
The aforementioned woman from the restaurant beside the coffee chain that shall remain nameless has been reported to have called the corporate office. The corporate office then called the local district manager of the coffee chain, who left an official sign stating that employees could no longer park in the next door lot.

This is the last fact that can be confirmed, though many rumors abound. Some say that the beef-less restaurant will refuse service to coffee chain employees (yet to be confirmed). Others have stated that woman/parking-lot-attendant has stickers/cards that she places on vehicles belonging to coffee employees or customers who park in the lot. The aforementioned Moroccans told said woman what they thought of her asking them to move their cars from the lot (it was said to have involved profanity). Coffee chain customers have been asked by woman while in coffee store or outside at the cafe tables to move their vehicles from the lot.
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New Brew
I posted Dan's unromantic look at the Emergent/ing movement on The Brew. It may be a little bawdy for some, but check it out nonetheless.
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Depression Series # 7
I wrote this essay recently after reading a great book by Os Guiness, God In The Dark. A great book for anyone who's dealt with doubt or depression.
Remembering

“In keep open lines to the past, the redeemed memory carries encouragement and conveys warnings and lessons to faith as faith is engaged in fighting at the front line of battle that is the present moment.”
-Os Guiness, God in the Dark.

This comes from the third chapter of Guiness’ book, entitled “Forgetting to Remember: Doubt from Ingratitude.” Reading this book has been revolutionary. What’s crazy is that I feel like (and sound like) I did almost eight years ago as I was starting my Bible school education. Every book was mind-shattering and life-altering.

I remember those days and look back fondly on them, though nowadays I’d say I’m very far from them. I don’t long for that pure milk of anything and gasp when some new truth is revealed to me. I more just long to continue on and not be dragged back into a depressed state that finds it’s cure in never-ending entertainment. God is still there and Christ has still saved me; I’m still redeemed and am being regenerated but I don’t quite feel like it. I’m accustoming myself to having feelings again and trying to sort them out after having turned them off.

I realized that my faith somehow keeps going, inspite of everything that I think would shatter it. My struggles with depression, although ongoing, aren’t as crippling as they once were. Five years after I began struggling with it, I see that life has gone on and I’v figured some things out. I’ve become one of those people I knew way back when who inspired me to keep going. I saw them in their darkest times but then later on, I also saw them able to get back to some kind of functioning faith. Somehow, they were able to deal with their depression or whatever other malady and move on. Time and their faith were able to help them grow.

I’ve more than survived the last five years and that’s something I try to remind myself of. I earned a bachelor’s degree and supported myself for going on three years. I was a freakin’ reporter for the Chicago Tribune for a year. Although I didn’t succeed at this and quit after a year, I didn’t let that send running home to Mom and Dad thinking that I couldn’t accomplish anything with my struggles with depression. And now I’ve up and moved to Texas to take a chance on starting a magazine. Who knows what’ll happen next.

New Brew; Dallas Drama ( Not that old TV show that no one remembers)

I posted Lonnie's article on Emergents getting away from Enlightenment-influenced faith. Check it out. The Brew.
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Thus begins the long saga known as "The Parking Wars Between Chick-fil-A and The Coffee Chain That Shall Remain Nameless."

One employee of that coffee chain parked near a side door of his store, which happens to be in the side lot of an oft-smelled Chick-Fil-A restaurant. On some night last week, this employee was asked by a woman (who is most likely the wife of the owner/operator) to move his car out of the restaurant parking lot, which is for employees and customers of the restaurant. Said woman then described a violent and noisy exit by coffee chain employee into the coffee chain's parking lot two hundred feet away. (There is not signage in either parking lot that specifies any spot is reserved for either establishment.)

This same employee parked in this disputed spot again during his Saturday night shift. The aforementioned woman enters the coffee chain and then explains the previous incident to me. "I'll let it go this time," states said woman, who continues on into explaining why the parking spot (one of about ten) is for customers, etc., ad infinitum, ad nauseum.

Another employee of the coffee chain overhears the conversation and proceeds to move his car next to the previous employee's car in the controversial parking lot during his meal break. Not being able to contain himself at his feat of defiance, the second employee tells me, the supervisor for this shift, of his ingenious move. Supervisor laughs hard, but then shakes his head.

Authoritative woman then talks to the Johnny-Come-Lately about moving his car into the parking lot. Employee, having purchased foodstuffs from the restaurant in the past, responds by saying, "I'm a paying customer." "Save your receipt," says woman.

Some regular customers (Native Moroccans who are associated with a Mediterranean restaurant across the street) come to the coffee shop for their nightly card game and also park in the prized lot.

Woman confronts me while I am outside washing down outdoor cafe tables. "Is that your Land Rover over there?" I, the most professional and mature supervisor, responds with: " No. I drive a Hyundai."
"Did you know that your other employee parked his car in the lot after I already talked to you about the first employee?"
Again, mature supervisor responds with a genuine, though put on, surprised look and words: "He did? Well..."
"I see how things are," woman interrupts me and then walks back to the restaurant with an aversion to beef.

About an hour later, a red truck (later discovered to be the owner/operator's) is parked directly behind the two vehicles driven by the coffee chain employees, effectively blocking them in (but also resting in a fire lane area which can be towed after a call to the city's non-emergency number).

No more interchanges occurred and the restaurant, not being the sinful night owls that us coffee employees are, could not wait for us to close; all employees, including the owner/driver-of-erroneously-parked-red-truck, had gone home by 11:30 p.m. leaving all of North Dallas the ability to park in the debatable lot.

Coffee supervisor conversed with store manager by phone after unfolding drama and was instructed to post a sign. It reads to this day: "Do not park in Chick-filla's (et.) lot anymore." - Store manager (except on Sundays)

Guac-queso; New Brew; Chicago v. Dallas

Went to a tex-mex restaurant and had some queso made with quacamole. Holy mole! I can't believe I've never thought of doing this.
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I posted another new author on The Brew. Kennedy Lewis writes with some bite on Truth and Emergents.
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So I started comparing the churches I went to in Chicago and Dallas the other day.

Chicago: Holy Trinity Church(HTC). Dallas: Trinity Fellowship Church(TFC).

HTC: Weekly Texas Hold 'Em nights beginning at 10 p.m. with monthly take-all tournaments (and 10% of the winnings were given to HTC). I'm still in the hole for $5 there.
TFC: Bi-weekly Texas Hold 'Em nights beginning at 8 p.m. (has a more 'mature' crowd). When a pastor attends, no one worries about having to tithe if the pastor wins anything.

HTC: A reformed congregation began this church as a plant. Pastors are known for writing children's books, helping with the translation of the ESV, running the Chicago Marathon every year, carrying around a large cigars in their mouths in the church office (but not smoking them).
TFC: Sprang from a Brethren church but has a more evangelical bent. Pastor (the one I've gotten to know) known for brewing meade and other ales at home, taking many others to eat Ethiopian food and getting a celebratory allowance clause added to Dallas Theological Seminary's policy on drinking while on DTS's student council.

It's a pure coincidence that both celebrate the Trinity in their names. I don't always base my church decisions on their ranking of the Trinity, but hey, why knock a good thing?

Love and Chicago-Style in Dallas

In honor of Valentines's Day this week, The Brew is feature a three articles all on the subject of love, with the usual Brew style. First up is a penetrating look at abuse of the word love by Lonnie. Watch later this week for a social experiment involving co-workers at an online dating site and for finding where theology, love and ambiguity come together.
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Found a Chicago-style pizza place in Dallas. Chicago Rick's has a pretty decent pie. It's almost a light version of the real thing, with about half the crust and half the cheese, but still made upside down as it should be. I would've thought that Texans would've wanted a bigger, better, more gluttonous version of Chicago-style, but it seems that they can't even handle the real thing. So chalk one up for ol' Chi-town.
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The coffee-chain-that-shall-eternally-remain-nameless now only serves trans-fat free pastries. Including the silly cupcakes which are more trouble than they are worth, packaging-wise.
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Watched the painfully funny Series 2 of the Office this week. Sometimes the British-isms still needed translation but the awkwardness never does.

Winter in Texas

t's finally gotten into the 30s and 20s down here. I'm hoping for snow during a weekend-long rain storm. But everyone keeps laughing at me or saying, 'Keep hoping.'
Instead of snow, Texas only gets ice; making Southern drivers who don't know how to drive even worse. And I also find out that because of the inclimate weather, my church might cancel their services on Sunday.
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I posted my article on the end of Arrested Development on The Brew today. If you've never heard of the show, check out the article to get a glimpse.
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Another great waste of time is www.willitblend.com. The site it pretty self-explanatory an simple fun. The machines used in the videos are what are used to make Frappaccinos at the one coffee shop. You know the one.

Pho For All

Had some amazing pho (pronounced 'fa') today after church. It's about the third or fourth meal at a Vietnamese restaurant since I moved here. And there seems to be no shortage of Vietnamese restaurants around the NW Dallas area.

I found out that during the Vietnamese war, Dallas was one of the cities that they evacuated Vietnamese people to. Apparently they settled down in and around Richardson, TX (near NW suburb of Dallas) and there's plenty of restaurants.

My buddy and I were the only white people in there for a while (which means you're in the right place for real Vietnamese food). I had some great coffee, which they drip-brew in a small cup at the table. The coffee drips through a small filter onto a bunch of sweetened, condensed milk, which you mix together while it's warm and then pour over ice. Oooohhh, is it good.

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Got a little frazzled this weekend over Christmas plans. And then I realized that I write best while I'm frazzled, pissed off or depressed. Realized that I hadn't worked on my novel for a while, either; it's probably because I hadn't been frazzled, pissed off or depressed enough recently.

So I stopped by the DPL and picked up some music to help me write. I found Eminem's Curtain Call; Foo Fighter's There is Nothing Left To Loose; and Elliot Smith's From a Basement On The Hill. We'll see what happens. Maybe I'll finish the chapter I started six months ago.

The New Coffee-Chain-That-Shall-Remain-Nameless

So I'm at a different Chain-That-Shall-Remain-Nameless down in Dallas and am adjusting fairly well.

A new store manager took over two months after the previous one was fired. Not sure why but I hear stories of him always eating pastries (from the case and after being put in the trash can, so they say), having emotional outbursts and not keeping the store stocked up. But the new one is pretty cool.

The drive-through store( a horrible idea) is located in a pretty shady neighborhood and is known for it's strip clubs all around. My first day on the drive through I got invited to a member's only sort of poker club. The middle-aged cocktail waitress (who paid with all ones and tried to make a joke about not working at one of those places in the neighborhood; I tried to laugh with her) who came through the drive through gave me a ghetto business card ( 'Sheila's Club' set in front of a black club) and wrote her name on the back of it. "You have to know someone in order to get in," she said. Haven't visited there yet.

Some repeat drive-through customers recognized me and told me they like flirting with me. One car in particular includes a corpulent, blonde woman (looking in her fifties and always sporting an oversized cowboy hat) riding with a young, skinny Asian girl, who likes to buy venti valencia mochas. The third time they came through, they said you should come see us sometime. "We work at Baby Dolls," she said. (I'll let you guess the reputation of a place called 'Baby Dolls' in the neighborhood. This is why I supressed a laugh when she said this.) There was a pause and then "We both wait tables there. We work the day shift." I chuckled and as legendarily (a company buzzword for great customer service) as I could tell them that a place like that wasn't my scene.

And one of the supervisors in the store is a Jehovah's Witness. He comes in frequently dressed to the tee (probably coming from some church service) and might be taking a leave to go on what would be equivalent to a mission trip to NYC to build houses. Everyone jokes around about all sorts of things, including this guy's 'virgin ears.' Then follows other jokes about him not having a girlfriend or not getting 'around'.

No one at the store knows too much about me, yet. Moody Bible Institute means nothing to anyone in the store and I don't mind. But it's odd to hear someone else getting all the religious ribbing that I'm used to getting. I don't know what to think about this.

From Espresso to Graphic Design

So begins the journey of a graphic desinger. While still peddling espresso for the coffee-chain-that-shall-remain-nameless, I'm jumping into the world of graphic design. And so far, it's going fairly well. I created an inspired restaurant tri-fold brochure and it came together nicely. If only there was such a place as Joe's Highway Bistro.
Take a look.

13 Hours Later...

I know. It makes you want to throw up. But this is what my windshield looked like after driving from Chicago to Dallas in 13 hours. There's bug splatters aplenty but this is an anomaly.

The only guess I have is that it came from a bird. While driving through downstate Illinois, I was listening to the best of Prairie Home Companion as I drove through the endless miles of prairie. And then some black bird (indistinguishable at 80 m.p.h.) flew into my windshield.

I didn't notice the mess on the windshield until later. Was it a 1 pound mosquito? Something flicked onto the windshield by a car ahead of me that didn't see one the hundreds of indistinguishable roadkills on I-55? Who knows. But I can wait to get my car washed and let it dry in the 90-degree Texas heat.

For a playlist of my 13-hour drive see the newest edition of the Son of a Beach.