Two Words: McRib

As this blog, like the FTC itself, is dedicated to the finer things in life, I believe it is the perfect forum for me to relate the highlight of my weekend.

That's right, I had a McRib. In fact, I had two. For those of you who don't know what a McRib is you aren't as ignorant as you might think. That is because nobody knows what a McRib is. It is a meat product (widely rumored to be pork) that is pressed into a rib shape, slathered in tangy BBQ sauce, and topped with pickles and onions. In other words it is absolutely delicious.

Now, it had been years since I'd had a McRib, and I have to admit I was skeptical. I wasn't sure if it would still be as good. It was, I assure you. I actually bought four so I could bring one home to each of my brothers. As my older brother put it between bites of the spongey-delicious meat, "welcome home, McRib!"

Now if you are not a close watcher of fast food ("bakery" to the Brits) news, you might be wondering why there is anything remarkable about eating a McDonald's item. I can hear you asking "can't you buy that anywhere?" NO! You can't. That's the crazy thing. You see, we are currently in the midst of McRib comeback tour III (McDonald's refuses to keep the item as a permanent menu feature, instead resorting to this gimmicky "it's going away but not before you say goodbye" thing, which seems to return every fall. That's right, they've taken this fantastic sandwich and turned it into the Cher of the fast food world.) and much like comeback tours I and II, McDonalds has determined that Northern Virginia is too upscale, too refined, for a product made of unidentifiable meat pressed into a somewhat identifiable shape. The joke is really on McDonalds because it would be one thing if it wasn't available in, say, Great Falls, but they stupidly extend their unofficial McRib ban to all parts of NoVA, including Manassas. That's right, I couldn't even find one in Manassas. Manassas has a Captain D's people. Manassas has a Roy Rogers, and I went there earlier this year to discover they are not equipped to accept credit cards. That is disturbing, but not as disturbing as the fact that I thought that the Roy Rogers chain ceased to exist in the mid 90's and am growing increasingly suspicious that this one has been operating off the grid for the past decade. The possibilities are frightening...

But I'm rambling. The point is I shouldn't have to go to Richmond for a McRib (important detail I forgot - I bought my McRib just north of Richmond on a pit stop returning home from North Carolina). Just bring it back, McDonald's. Do it for my children, who may otherwise be forced to eat disgusting, unprocessed meat.


Let me close this post by predicting a future conversation with someone whose anonymity I will protect by calling her "O" (hint: not Oprah).

O: (laughter)
Me: What?
O: I saw that you wrote about the Mc...(laughing)...RIB!
Me: Yeah, so?
O: You really, love food. You really, really love food.
Me: Well, it was delicious.
O: Where can I get one?
Me: I don't know.
O: Do you think I can get one around here?
Me: I don't think so.
O: But I really want one.
Me: Sorry.
O: Do you know where to get one?
Me: No.
O: Are you going to get one?
Me: I don't know where to get one.
O: If you go looking for one will you tell me?
Me: Sure.
O: I really want a McRib.
Me: I'm sorry, Oyin.
O: I am consumed by desire to consume a McRib.
Me: I'm sorry.
O: That's ok (leaves).

Friday Meeting

Yes, it's true. After a weekend of near toxic levels of turkey consumption, the FTC will be back and stronger than ever this friday at Jimmy's Old Town Tavern in Herndon, VA.

I'm thinkin Jimmy's is a typically fine establishment for the FTC, and according to Google, many people have many wonderful things to say about it. It also looks like a place where absurd drunkeness is acceptable, so Oyin will blend in.

Of course I can't forget the specials: $2 domestic beers and $3 rail drinks and house wines. I am far from a wine snob but let me say this: I have had many delicious wines for $3 A BOTTLE, so this $3 a glass stuff must be of a quality deserved by any FTC member.

Also as an extra special special I am throwing this out there: NEW FTC MEMBERS GET A FREE DRINK. That's right, bring it.

The Witmer Home, c. 1997

Ben's brother walks in to find Ben on the phone...

Ben: Yes, this is he.

...I'm doing well, doctor and you?

...Cool, cool. So I guess you got the results of the test back?

...What?

...WHAT?

...There must be some mistake - please, they've already disappeared. Really, I feel fine. I shouldn't even have...

...No, no. They aren't coming back. Not next month, not the month after that.

...WHAT?? THAT'S OUTRAGEOUS! Are you telling me you can contract both of those at the same time?

...What do you mean you have worse news?

...No - that can't be true. Doctor, I'm too young! I'm too young!

At this point Ben is crying. His brother, feeling sypathy for Ben, is crying as well. Ben's brother sits down and puts his arm around Ben in a show of support.

Ben (showing the phone handset to his brother): BOOM! Nobody is on the line! BOOM! Dial tone. I can't believe you bought that regalia, I got you palatially! BOOM!

Could there be a Sequel?

http://www.collider.com/entertainment/news/article.asp/aid/6072/tcid/1

Friday Music Recap

Here is a recap of the music discussed at Friday's FTC meeting:

Marianne likes Pavement and most, if not all, of us agreed. Here's a live performance of "Summer Babe."



Craig extolled the awesomeness of Lady Sovereign. Watch this video for "9 to 5," and I dare you to disagree.



Rachel loves the new Radiohead album and mentioned the opener, "15 Step" specifically. This isn't a straight video for the song, but it combines the finest band in the world with one of the finest movies of the 90's, Se7en. So, it's cool.



Ben likes Rage Against the Machine, but thinks Zach De La Rocha can be too political for his own good. What's so political about this?

Finer Things Club Webcam

Missed the Finer Things Club meeting Friday? Want to know what we're all about? Luckily for you, we set up a camera in Craig's basement to capture the spirit and essence of the FTC.

Behold:

Show U Where 2 Sit At

[Talking]

Dawg, u see that girl over there?

Yeah

U see that sweet behind?

Yeah

U think she need someone 2 help her out?

Awwww yeah, show her where 2 sit at....

[Verse 1]

Dear shawty, I see u sittin in the corner
Stay with the girls, act like I'm ignorin ya
When I look at u, I know u can't resist
This...look, these arms that u miss
The way they wrap around u, always when u want them 2
The way that I get next 2 U
No more denyin, no more fakin
What u got 2 give, u know I'll be takin

[Chorus]

I'll show u where 2 sit at
U know I'd love 2 hit that
U say u got a man?
Girl, I ain't tryin 2 hear that [Repeat]

[Verse 2]

Now u lookin my way, what u want 2 say?
Where u want 2 meet? Where should I bring this heat?
Girl, don't leave, though I'd love 2 watch u walk away
If u think I'm lyin, just listen 2 the beat
Giiiiiirl, cause u know I'm ready 2 go
and I know u need some help, so
U know I'll be your usher, and not the platinum artist
Usher like the guy who can show u where 2 park it...

I'll show u where 2 sit at
I know u want 2 hear that
I'll hit that when u want me 2
And you'll show me somethin new
Each Time that I get next 2 U
I'll Show U where 2 Sit at

Girrrrrl

No, not there baby, I got a seat reserved over here

I'll show U where 2 sit at
U know I'd love 2 hit that
I'll show u where 2 sit at
I'd love 2 lazer tag that
Just show me where 2 aim at

I'll show u where 2 sit at [x24]

McCormick's Final Correspondance

Mark,

Please do not ever enter my establishment again.

Regards,

McCormick

P.S. My hand has been forced by the widow Schmick. Forgive me.

Katie Explain's Potluck to no Avail...

There is a tradition at this fine establishment where we have potluck lunches periodically. I never really understood where the term "potluck" came from so I decided to do something about that. Well, I'll let you in on a little gem I happened to catch on film. Much like the documentarians involved in the Planet Earth series, I set out on a quest spanning approximately 4 years to try and find the meaning of "potluck." I was nearing my physical limits when.. Finally, after several grueling months spent deep within the dark, dank, deadly yet beautiful jungles of the Amazon.com... Well... I gave up, got a job through a temp agency, got a new camera, brought it to work and this was one of my first videos captured with my new camera... What luck! Here, Katie describes the finer things of potluck and its origin. Fascinating! Thanks Katie. I am sure that you all will thank her too, because here at the Finer Things Club we wish to help the public both enjoy and understand the finer things in life.

The Multi-Media FTC Blitz Continues...

Want to know what the future holds for the Mari FTC? I will let this video do the talking, because it's just too awesome:



Oh snaaaaaaaaaap! Stadium not included? I know, it's a big setback right? Not so, because we have MARI stadium. If you thought this battle was intense just imagine hiding in, around, and behind cubes. Imagine feeling your heart pound as you find yourself face to face with an enemy just before capturing their flag. It's awesome, right? Also, wasn't this commercial totally rad? I've watched it like five straight times, and can't get enough. My favorite moment has got to be the wall-run. That will look real smooth on the atrium windows.

If there is anything sweeter than a 20 year old Lazer Tag commercial reminiscent of David Lynch's Dune, it's a current homemade video instructing us how to run our own game with modern Lazer Tag equipment. This guy is great, because he did this for no other reason than to enrich our Lazer Tag experience, and to show off his iMovie HD skill set. And yet he thanks us for watching!



Ok, I know his delivery was a little bit dry, and this video depicts the game being played by children, but seriously - how awesome is that?

For more information on FTC Lazer Tag, just ask. And be prepared to offer money.

Hello my name is Mr. Labcoat, the back story of what really happened at the first Finer Things Club Meeting... By Ben

Here is Ben's [censored] take on the shady lab coat guy:

Me and My White Coat

The first thing that made me angry that day was I had to park the whole %*@ing way in the back of the hospital parking lot. Usually when I get there at 10:00am for the Friday shift there are some spots left open for the lab technicians, but not that day. I was way back where the patients have to park.
I knew my day was going to go to **** when my supervisor handed me the list of lab samples I had to do that day. The list was four pages long, and I swear I could see the slightest twinge of pleasure behind his thick glasses that made me want to smash them in for him. Originally I had thought that being a lab technician would be a prestigious job, but it really just means that you’re the hospital’s bitch. Anyway, I knew I was stuck here for awhile. At all costs though, I had to make sure I met Jonesy at the bar at 4:00pm sharp. Jonesy did not tolerate tardiness.
I had it all worked out in my head. As soon as my supervisor went on his lunch-break, I used his access card (which I had already made a copy of two years ago) to enter the pharmaceutical storage. Once I was in there, I grabbed four bottles of [stuff] for Jonesy, wrapped them in bubble wrap, and put them in a plastic grocery bag.
My supervisor came back from lunch and was none the wiser. I had already changed the inventory codes in the computer to reflect that our supply of [stuff] had been four bottles short. Feeling somewhat accomplished I fished out three stray [stuff] I had in the inner pocket of my lab coat. I washed all three down with a dixie cup full of cold water.
The rest of the day floated by as I knocked out lab sample after lab sample. The [stuff] made each sample seem so direly important, so life and death, that it kept me genuinely interested in the work. I noticed after a while that it was nearing 3:30pm and I had to get going soon to meet up with Jonesy. I said goodbye to my supervisor who was reading a magazine in his office, made sure the bag was concealed, and rushed out of the office. I left in such a hurry I forgot to take off my white lab coat. But as I walked the length of the parking lot to get to my car, I decided to leave it on. Maybe people would respect me a bit more, and anyhow, no one would suspect a guy in a white lab coat would be making a [fun time] at a bar. But the real reason I left it on was to say “[what, what?] you society, I don’t care about your stupid [hidy ho] rules.”
I got a decent spot in the parking garage, stashed the bag of [stuff] in the glove compartment, and walked briskly to the bar. When I got there my watch said 4:02pm, and sure enough I saw Jonesy sitting near the end of the bar, his thick brown fingers raising a glass to his mouth. He noticed me out of the corner of his eye as he swallowed the contents of the glass. I sat down next to him.
“What the [rum raisin] you doin dressed like that in here? You might as well just have a sign that says, ‘hey everybody look at me!’ What’s the matter with you? said Jonesy.
“Just chill out. No one is going to concern themselves with me, after an initial look. They see this lab coat and think ‘huh, doctor or something’” I said.
Jonesy’s low rumble of a laugh seem to come from the bottom of his gut. “[thumbwrestling] doctor? That’s funny. You look like you bought that thing at a Halloween store.”
This made me angry, but I did not let Jonesy see any sign of it on my face. I wanted two things at this point: to get a bourbon, and to make this deal so I could get the [fudgy the whale] out of here.
The bartender set my drink in front of me, and I waited for a couple of seconds for Jonesy to segue into the deal. I spoke up when he did not.
“So it’s the usual. I got four of them for you. A grand a piece” I said. I watched Jonesy’s eyes carefully for any sign of distress. They showed none.
“That’s too bad. I can’t use any of that,” he said as he stuck his plump index finger in the air, signaling the bartender for another drink.
Right away I was p[eev]ed. It caught me off guard. I had sold him bottles of [cotton candy] for about a year now. Not once had he ever passed. I decided to go for the casual approach first.
“Shut the [hootie and the blowfish] up Jonesy,” I said pretending to laugh it off. “We both know you want them. They’re in my car. Let’s finish this drink and go do this.” I started to raise my bourbon up for a drink, but Jonesy grabbed my arm and forced it to the bar.
“We ain’t going nowhere. I told you, I don’t want them. Your price ain’t good anymore. You think you can keep unloading those [bedazzling] things on me for that price?”
Now a rage began to boil from down within the core of my being. My ears and face become hot, my hands clenched, and my breathing quickened. I wanted right then pick up my glass and smash it across his forehead.
Suddenly a waiter appeared next to Jonesy with a huge platter of ribs and fries. “Here you go sir,” the waiter said as he set the food down in front of Jonesy.
I momentarily lost my train of thought, but then brought myself back to the situation. It was true, I was overcharging Jonesy by about $400 dollars. But, I had been selling them to him at that price from the get-go. Reminding myself that every dollar I made from selling [lollipops] went into my traveling budget, thus getting me closer and closer to the amount I needed to travel to some distant, wild place, pregnant with possibilities, where I could just relax and live life on my own terms, made me able to focus my anger back on Jonesy. He had already begun sucking the meat and bbq sauce off the ribs. I could tell that this meant he was done discussing any possible sale and was waiting for me to get lost.
“Last chance Jonesy,” I said. “Do you want them or not?”
He didn’t even look at me. He just kept sucking on the grilled bones from his plate.
“I’m going to tell you one more time mother[love bone, the band], I don’t want your shit. Now get the [cherry pepcid] out of my sight,” he said between bites.
My eyes had drifted to the left side of Jonesy’s jacket. Inside the huge leather jacket I could barely make out the handle of his piece. He didn’t notice me looking at it because he was too concerned with his ribs, and it occurred to me then that he might not even know that I knew he carried a piece. But I had seen it on him before, and never really worried because I never saw or heard of him ever using it before. It was just for protection. I suspected he must have obtained some kind of fraudulent permit or paperwork for it.
I could feel the alcohol starting to take effect. I wanted nothing more than to show Jonesy I was not one to be [tinkled] with. He had promised to pay for the [broccoli], and I was drastically counting on that money. The money from the sale would put me right up to the amount I needed to leave town permanently. For a couple seconds I felt real, unadulterated hate towards Jonesy. I wasn’t going to let that fat piece of [poppycock] dictate how this situation would end.
“Okay whatever,” I said calmly. I got up and walked a couple feet toward the bathroom, then turned swiftly and grabbed the gun from Jonesy’s jacket. Jonesy didn’t even know what hit him; he still had his teeth around a rib.
My thinking became muddy now. I didn’t quite know what my intention was. I had the gun pointed right at Jonesy’s face, and at first, the only one in the bar who realized what I was doing was the bartender. He had a look of terror across his pale face. Jonesy’s eyes showed both a look or surprise and horror at first, before turning completely into horror. It wasn’t until I began shouting that others began to panic.
What happened next had never in my life happened to me before. I can only describe it in words that will in no way come close to the feeling that came over me. I had heard the phrase “drunk on power” before but I never knew it to be so true. I was indeed “drunk” on power. Putting that much fear into not only Jonesy and the bartender, but to the entire restaurant, gave me such a tremendous sense of satisfaction and self-worth that I nearly had an [sadie hawkins dance]. Yet, as powerful as it felt, something about this feeling frightened me, like I was dipping into some dark, evil well from which my soul was warning me not to drink.
Meanwhile I was shouting words about my money to Jonesy and waving the gun at everyone. I had lost my composure. I was not thinking clearly. But I was thinking clearly enough to know that I had put myself in a bad spot. I knew I had to get out of there as fast as possible.
I stuck the gun in the back of my belt and ran for the door. As I exited, I passed a younger guy on the way in with a [devilishly handsome] smile on his face. He had a look of almost juvenile bliss on his face. I’m not sure why, but I turned and yelled one final time into the bar, making sure the younger guy could hear me: “I better get my [peas and carrots] money, or I’m coming back here to shoot this place up!” I was in no way being serious, but I achieved my desired goal. The younger guy no longer looked blissful, but instead fearful for his life.
I ran back to the garage where my car was, stopping along the way to drop the gun down a sewer grate. I hesitated for a few seconds before allowing the piece to fall between the rusted metal teeth. It occurred to me that I should take off my lab coat. But with a smile I decided once again to leave it on. I didn’t give a [hip hop hooray]. I had worn it that long. In a funny sort of way, I thought to myself that it was like my superhero costume. Superman had his cape; I had my white lab coat.
I could hear sirens as I started up my car. I checked to make sure the bag was still in my glove compartment. It was. Why shouldn’t it be? I screeched the tires out of the garage and down the street, in the opposite direction of the bar.
I didn’t know where I was driving. I didn’t know what I was going to do. My first thought was to down a bunch of the [dark chocolate m&m's] and just park my car somewhere to think. I knew that was a horrible idea, so I started racking my brain for options. The more I searched for options, the more one thing became vividly clear to me: I wanted that feeling back again. That consuming sting of power, that pleasurable sense of control.
I wondered how scared Jonesy really was. For as big as he was, I knew now he was a coward. Hadn’t he ever held his gun and felt how it seemed to mold into your hand, how it seemed to enmesh itself into your flesh so it becomes and extension of your whole arm? Probably not. But I had. Oh I had felt it.
I decided to wait until well after midnight before I went back and retrieved the gun.

McCormick's Correspondences From the Sea, cont'd

One more day until we go to McCormick and Schmick's! I know this because, well, it's been hard to forget. McCormick has been in contact with me almost daily (I have no idea how his notes get here so fast) and I'm actually getting a little worried about him. Here is what I had waiting for me today:

Dearest Mark:

I hope this note finds you well. Things have not been so for me. Life on the sea is tough, and lately I have found myself to be in an endless cycle, battling the alternating bouts of chlamydia and loneliness.

I am writing to you because I have nobody left to confide in. My ship mates are natives of an island country who seem to have no need for the frivolities of my nature. So it is to you I turn. I'm afraid that I may have made a tactical blunder in my dispatching of Schmick, for it turns out that the widow Schmick has a considerable amount of stock in my business venture with her late husband, and in a legal sense, I suppose she now owns the operation. Oh! The vagaries of the seafaring life!

I would be lying to you if I told you my troubles ended there - I am just now facing the growing reality that I very well may be lost at see [sic]. In the light of day, I see nothing but water, and by night I cannot even see the hand in front of my face. I assure you, however, that I still catch nothing but the freshest, most delicious seafood. Now I must go, for I can hear the sharks circling. Yes they are circling again, biding their time, for their instincts have informed them of the inevitable that I cannot yet bear to face.

Go with health, Mark, and enjoy my $2 bar food specials on Friday.

McCormick Chimes In

I got home today and had a McCormick and Schmicks menu rolled up behind my storm door handle. At least, that's what I thought until I unrolled it and found out that it was a hand-written note from none other than [deleted] McCormick! It says:

Dear Mark:

I hope all is well. Life is tough out here on the high seas, but that is the price one must pay to deliver the finest, cheapest seafood and novelty cocktails to his customers. I am writing in response to your question about a recent incident at our restaurant involving [deleted]. Such allegations are simply untrue, and when I return from this endless blue expanse, I will see to it that anybody perpetrating these lies is [deleted]! If that isn't enough, i will then [deleted] and [deleted] until they beg that [deleted]... but there will be no more to give!!!

Mark, please excuse me if my words sound brash, but my food is my life's work. I lose an average of $234,000 dollars per annum, because I insist that the satisfaction of my customers takes priority over everything else, including profit. Times are so bad that in September, I'm afraid that starved and out of bait, we had to sacrifice Schmick for the greater cause. We took him in his sleep to spare him the pain, but I assure you it is what he would have wanted, as his dedication knew no bounds. Please do not reprint this information.

Regards,

[deleted] McCormick

P.S. Try the fish tacos. They are sooooo money.

So there y'all have it. McCormick and Schmick's is just as swanky as it ever has been, and I for one can't wait to go.

The First Finer Things Club Meeting

It was a dreary night when Chris rolled up the American style bar. He then sees Mark sitting outside with a worried look on his face. When asked what happened, Mark explained that some guy in a white lab coat just stormed out of the bar shouting about how he better get his money back or he'll shoot the place up. I walked up to the bar and saw the police questioning the guy and didn't think too much of it. Besides, I wanted some beer. Anyway, Mark left shortly after and Ben and Rachel show up. We randomly saw Marianne walking outside, so we waived and when she saw Ben she decided just keep walking. Many Fine topics were discussed, many beers were also had. I don't think it would be fair to disclose some of the topics as they may be embarrassing and hilarious. It was a good time and i think we should definitely do it again. Remember, all are welcome. Not you Stephanie P.