Smoke and Mirrors

In a perfect world . . .

Category: fast food (page 1 of 2)

Everybody loves Fried Clams

fried clams, diet, food, heath


About a month or so ago Pamela decided that we needed to modify and improve our eating habits.
We shied away from calling this a diet and settled on what we consider to ultimately be a change
in lifestyle.
What we’re doing is in no way groundbreaking but it does make a lot of sense.
Based on your height and current weight you are allowed X number of calories a day.
Pamela said, “If you want to drink Guinness all day, you can. But when you’ve reached your calorie limit, you’re done.”
Obviously a diet consisting purely of Guinness draft would never work for me.
Just for shits and giggles I did figure out that I could have 12 glasses of the dark magic to equal my daily allotment.
My employer wouldn’t like it nor would my MD (who already put the kibosh on my past Guinness intake)
One or two beers a night doesn’t seem like much in the scheme of things but it does add up over time.
I’ve since limited myself to several on the weekend.
I am breaking my own rule tonight as I write this by having one but I have counted it and still have 600+ calories to consume before bedtime.
I have lost close to 14lbs since embarking on this diet change and I have noticed some changes in my body.
It’s easier bending over and the edges of my underwear don’t roll up anymore like a tightly made burrito from Taco Bell.
And I will need to look for some new khaki’s and pants soon because when I tighten my belt the trousers reek of hillbilly feng shui.
Maybe I just need a rope belt.
Walking is easier and sleeping is more sound these days so I’m thinking I’m on the right track.
But with everything good comes something not so good.
I am realizing that two visits to 5 Guys Burgers in one week is not a good thing.
Fried Clams are not my friends anymore (sadly) and Ben and Jerry’s should actually be illegal.
I think back through my eating history and just wonder, ‘what the hell?’
But fried clams are sooooo good.
As is Chunky Monkey ice cream.
But I also want to be around to see my grandkids, too.
You can’t have both.
Fried clams or grandkids?
How about fried grandkids with a side of Chunky Monkey?
I digress . . .
At 53 years old, I have seen the light.
It’s not pretty to look at but it has shown me that the food I was eating was killing me.
Sodium, saturated fats, sugars and little bastard carbs have been swirling around my body wreaking havoc on everything from my triglycerides to my cholesterol and more.
Now before you start thinking I’m going all health-nut on your ass, I’m not.
We all make choices everyday in terms of the food we eat.
I’m just thinking we could all do a bit better.
This little nugget came to me after a friend inhaled an entire plate of Dan Dan Noodles from P.F.Chang’s a week ago.
(I call the restaurant Poof Changs)
On a whim, I checked out the nutritional value online and was gobsmacked.
One order of Dan Dan’s supposedly serves three people, not one.
One serving contains 990 calories.
Sat Fat: 23gms
Carbs: 143gms
Sodium: (a drum roll, please) a whopping 6190mgs!

I do hope I was reading the chart wrong and maybe I was.
A dish with over 18,000mgs of sodium can’t be possible, could it?
Your heart would just stop, yes?
Either way at over 6K mgs of sodium, divided three ways you’re still talking close to one daily allotment of salt.
Smack my ass and call me Sally, that’s a shitload of salt.
All I’m saying here is you should weigh your options in terms of what you eat.
I will get off my dietary soapbox now and go back to wherever it is that I go when I’m not writing.
It’s a low-sodium place these days.
When our friends from Australia get here in October, Mark wants fried clams.
I’m hoping he’s up for splitting an order.
I want him around for a long, long time . . .
and you guys too.

French Fries

During my lunch hour today I wanted to drop off a fountain pen for repair.
This meant a walk to Downtown Crossing in the shopping district,
an area swarming with people today due to the warm summer weather.

The Bromfield Pen Shop is a place I have dreams about with all their pens, cool ink and exotic paper.
It’s the only place in Boston to take a sick pen; the patient of the day: a Mont Blanc fountain pen.
As I walked down Washington Street, grilled sausages, onions and red and green peppers assaulted my olfactory senses.
I was hungry and had multiple thoughts of mustard.
Spicy, brown mustard.

I was limited on time so I dropped off the pen and didn’t chance a look at the new inks
that had undoubtedly come in.
I am a big-time sucker for creatively colored inks.
Thank my lucky stars I didn’t have the time to spend money I don’t have on inks I really don’t need.
And ink is sooooo cool.
You have no idea.

I left the pen shop and walked up Bromfield Street when I saw a sign for a tres cool sandwich shop.
I walked in and saw a line longer than the bank on payday.
I would settle for a grilled chicken sandwich from Burger King. (yummy, right?)
I sat down to eat and noticed an older black man panhandling right outside the front door.
This guy was a bit different though.
He wasn’t asking for money, though he did hold a large BK cup in his hand.
I watched through the glass as he mouthed ‘hello’ and ‘have a nice day, now’ to the many people walking by.
He was polite and generally unobtrusive for a needy guy.

And he was needy.

He stood about my height (5’8”) and had on ratty clothes, the overall effect topped off
with a weathered Boston Red Sox hat.
His toothless smile seemed almost innocuous. . . inviting.
You almost wanted to forgive him though he’d done no wrong, if that makes any sense.

As a rule, I don’t give money to street people.
I might offer a piece of fruit or a bottle of water if I have an extra.

I reached into my BK bag and took out an order of French Fries that I hadn’t ordered.
I brought them up to the register and told the woman that waited on me that I hadn’t ordered them. She waved her hand in a ‘no comprende’ way and said ‘keep them’.

I haven’t been eating fries lately and decided my windfall would be a snack for the man outside ‘working the street’.

I ate my lunch and continued to watch this man smile, say hello, give directions and take whatever this unblinking society would give him.
I finished my sandwich and grabbed the bag with the fries (still sufficiently hot) and left.
I walked up and handed him the bag and said, “Here, eat these. You do eat fries, don’t ya’?”

You would have thought I’d just given him a winning lottery ticket.

He smiled and said, “Bless you, my brother. Bless your heart.”

I walked across Tremont Street and through a warm, sunny Boston Common back to work,
oddly happy to have been sincerely blessed.


this is just sick.

I found this floating around YouTube and had to share it.
With a bit of preparation this recipe could conceivably work.
I have yet to try it but I will . . .
Have no fear.
Stay tuned.
I really like Alton Brown.
Try his One Minute Eggplant.
Good God . . .


I began reading the new Natalie Goldberg book  ‘Old Friend from Far Away’ a few days ago.
It’s a book custom-tailored for writers of memoir.
So far the book is quite good (like all of her books).
Page 14 has a prompt that I’ve decided to turn into a post.
The chapter is quite short:

Tell me what you will miss when you die.

When I die there will be many things that I will miss.
This list went on for quite a few pages but I’ve chosen an abbreviated version for your perusal.
If I included food you’d be here for a few days.
I mostly chose things from the category ‘matters of the heart’.
Feel free to steal this as a ‘meme’.
For you writers visiting, it’s a wonderful exercise. Do it.
Even if you don’t consider yourself a writer, it’s worth your time.
You can look at some of the things that really make your life worthwhile.
Here I go.

I will miss:

-Whispers in the dark
-Pamela’s eyes, voice, face and beautiful soul
-hearing the phrase, “I love you, Daddy,” whispered in my ear
-my three beautiful girls
-the sound of little footsteps coming down the stairs on Christmas morning
-my sister, my twin, the other part of my very soul
-Caitlin’s smile
-Ryan’s loveable way (and awesome jumpshot)
-Billy’s laugh
-All the people I truly love (if I’ve talked to you in the past year, consider yourself on this list)
-a warm and gentle rain
-the silent beauty of falling snow (yeah, I wrote that)
-the sound of surf at the Cape
-the smell of freshly cut grass in late spring
-stars (especially the constellation Orion, someday possibly the Southern Cross)
-my cats purring
-Cuban cigars
-Guinness (or any fairly decent dark beer like Porter or Stout)
-Makers’ Mark
-writing with a nice fountain pen on some fine quality paper
-the feeling of creating
-entering ‘the Zone’  (artists of all kinds know about this one)
-music (playing and listening)
-my piano
-weekend phone calls to a country far, far away with two incredibly special people
-memories of the Camp
-the aroma of an apple pie baked by my grandmother from summer’s long ago
-Blue Cheese
-Bill Hicks, Denis Leary, Sam Kinnison, George Carlin, Lewis Black and Dave Chapelle
-most importantly, my blog

And yes, I will dearly miss sex and exceptional breasts.
I’m not a freak.
Truthfully, what will you miss?

Myocardial Infarction

Why not just eat an entire freekin’ cow for cripe’s sake?
Click on the MI culinary delight above for a cafe that is possibly responsible for
more saturated fat-related deaths than Mickey D’s
But hell, the waitstaff looks damn curvy and nice.
Okay, I’ll give them a bye
I guess if you’re going to have a heart attack this is the place you’d want some serious mouth-to-mouth action.
Somebody order me another triple-bypass, will ya?
Double the fries, too

Groundhog Morning

I’ve never been a morning person and don’t think I will ever be.
it usually takes and hour or so and several strong cups of coffee before I’m even semi-lucid.
Hell, I have a tough time deciding between grape jelly or peanut butter for my English muffin.
On days like that I just go with some butter
(maybe a dab or two of vegemite, an Aussie condiment that is slowly growing on me)
This morning I was running a bit late when I got to Boston and stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts for a simple breakfast sandwich.
The girl behind the counter was of oriental persuasion, an important detail as you read the foillowing conversation.

DD: I hep you?

me: yeah, an egg, cheese and ham on a croissant, please.

DD: you want coffee?

me: no.

(DD turns and says something to a co-worker before turning around)

DD: What kind sandwich you want?

me: Egg-Cheese-Ham-Croissant

DD: you want coffee?

me: (louder) NO.

(DD gets called by another co-worker and I’m getting a tad worked up)

DD: What kind of meat you want?

me: HAM!

DD: you want coffee?

me: “for the third and final time, no, I do not want coffee and if I did I would say, “could I please have a cup of coffee?” (muttered under my breath: “Christ-in-a-sidecar”)

Wonder why I never go to DD’s?
(expletives deleted that I refuse to write, but know that there are many)
God, I hate mornings . . .

Pringles in the can

“When I write, I usually take a can of Pringles potato chips and eat only 13.
Any flavor will do. If that doesn’t satisfy me, then I eat 13 more.
While I’m eating, it gives me a good way to stop and look at what I wrote, and to concentrate on correcting my mistakes.
This is my lucky way (and an excuse) to write a good story while eating a good can of potato chips.” —Michele Jenkins

While searching for a post image I found THIS
Phriggin’ Pringles . . .
Have a great weekend folks



Borrowed this from Raincoaster.
She’s got mad skillz with the blog meme . . .

What Your Pizza Reveals

You have a hearty appetite. You are likely to complain if a restaurant has small portions.
You are a very picky pizza eater. Not any pizza will do. You fit in best in the Northeast part of the US.Your taste is rather complex and sophisticated. You consider yourself a gourmet – and a bit of a snob.You are dependable, loyal, and conservative with your choices.

You are cultured and intellectual. You should consider traveling to Vienna.

The stereotype that best fits you is metrosexual. Your friends secretly agree.

What Does Your Pizza Say About You?

What if . . .

With 210 calories and 8 grams of fat, the jelly-filled donut is a sin.
Well, these days I tend to think so.


Cleaning House


“Hey, Dave, what’s up with that healthy glow? What happened to your good old pasty, cadaver-like complexion?”

{Dave laughs}

“Oh, Bill. I had a nice and relaxing visit at the Clean as a Whistle Colonics Spa this weekend and man, I feel grrrrreat!”


In the not too distant future this could conceivably be a normal conversation at the office water cooler . . . or not.
I know, you’re wondering where the hell I’m going with this right?

Now and then I see an article in the paper that sends my “Pinch me, I must be dreaming” meter into orbit.
Yesterday, an article in the Metro on colonics sent me to Pluto.
Now I’m back to give you a report.

Colonics; the infusion of water into the rectum by a colon therapist to cleanse and flush out the colon

They better damn well use the Evian with me. {sniff, sniff}
In fact, make it a double.

It’s essentially an expensive enema for folks with nothing better to do with their money than, well, shove it up their bum.
I’m sure it has substantial health benefits and all that stuff but come on.
How far can something like this really go?
I get my prostate checked once a year and I still feel dirty 6 months later so from a psychological standpoint what in God’s name would one of these treatments do to me?
I’d have to sign up for rectal therapy.

Anyway, it just struck me as an interesting service but how the hell could you promote it without laughing?

Maybe I’m ahead of the curve here but I’ve come up with a few choice names for establishments offering this procedure.
In a span of 20 minutes I came up with over twenty names (which was half the fun).
Here are a few names I really liked:


  • Roto-Colon, Inc.
  • Gee, my ass smells terrific
  • Coffee, Tea or Champagne enema?
  • Colon Blow Ranch {courtesy of SNL}
  • The Lush Flush Salon
  • G.I. Tract Joe’s
  • Colon Bowlin’ Cleaning Service
  • Tush Pushers Day Spa
  • Backdoor Genie
  • Tiny Bubbles
  • Hose Monster {free tattoo with 3 irrigation sessions!}


Feel free to leave me a name or two.
Once you get started, the names just kinda flow . . . like water


For those wondering why I’m posting less frequently, I spend most warm summer nights out on the deck with a cigar and my favorite brew taking me away from the computer.
I truly live for this time of the year.






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