Butch Leiber's World

I guess I like to think I’m conventional but in 2009/2010 America, what is convention? Conventional: conforming with accepted standards.

Friday, I went and had coffee at Conspire, which was voted the best Neighborhood Coffee House in Phoenix by New Times Magazine. Conspire is in an old house in downtown Phoenix and is an arts cooperative selling crafts and clothes and books and awesome lattes. There I met Deborah, a waitress at a local sushi restaurant, Damien, a young (early twenties, maybe) hipster, and several sex workers hanging out and having their afternoon jolt of caffeine. Deborah was cute, urban, dressed in layers of tank tops and t-shirts and topped off with a knit Rasta cap in Jamaican colors, not neatly hiding her head of wild red hair. Damien, who was one of the friendliest, happiest guys I’ve ever met in a coffee shop, looked like he hadn’t washed his hair in weeks and smelled equally feral. In my head I needed to run and take a shower but started wondering who “those” people were. How do they exist in today’s society? Why don’t they just fit in like the rest of us?

“Those people.” In that I heard my grandmother, sitting at the dining room table judging and criticizing the people she dealt with on a daily basis. Now, her “those people” and my “those people” are different people. And I’m sure to some, I’m one of “those people.” I am gay, and I was raised Jewish and I shave my head and I have a tattoo and I’m one hundred pounds overweight and I’m single and I have sex with random strangers and, well, I can probably find more things that make me one of “those people” to someone else.

Why is it so easy to judge and assess people when they don’t fit our mold of how people should be? We have our own conventions in life and think everyone should fit in that mold. I’ve been looking, searching lately for Mr. Right and the few men I’ve met lately who I really like just don’t fit the mold of what I expect for my boyfriend, or better, what my friends or parents would expect me to bring home. So I dump them, or move on hoping the next one will fit better.

I’ve begun to notice lately the constraints I put on myself by my own conventions, how I should be, how my life should be. The more I judge and criticize myself the more I notice I’m critical and judgmental of others. I check out what they’re doing or not doing and vote on whether it’s good or bad or even worse, could I, should I try that on? I like to think I’m an independent thinker. I like to think I’m unique and my own creation. But ultimately, I’m one giant paradox of convention and non-convention; a bundle of look at me and what are you looking at. I want so badly to fit it – everywhere, and so badly to be unique, always looking for approval, acceptance, love.

For this final two weeks of the year, I’m taking on acceptance, love and approval of all, including myself. No one is perfect, and we all are. Happy holidays!

Peace.
Butch Leiber’s World Blog

I want to start today’s posting off with a little tirade about bad customer service. Let’s not tolerate it. There are so many choices in today’s marketplace for our shopping dollars, why support stores, restaurants and services that don’t care about you. Border’s Books at the Biltmore – 3 cashiers on the line at lunch time three saturdays before Christmas. I had to wait fifteen minutes in line to buy a greeting card! Then, the scanner rang up the wrong price for card and the girl behind the counter was surly about having to change the price for me. “It’s only fifteen cents,” she said. But it was MY fifteen cents. Grrr…. Add to that the gray haired drivers trying to find parking and paying no attention to blocking travel lanes in an already crowded parking lot… and I’m going on a tirade! And, I won’t be shopping at Borders again any time soon.
Now, let’s talk turkey– or roast beef or even pastrami. The best in town is probably at Scott’s Generations deli but between the girl who kept trying to grab my plate off the table before I was finished with my meal (and no, I don’t think she was concerned about my diet, trying to save me from that large slab of meat) and the waitress who I had to continue to try to find to fill up my iced tea and the sneering jerk behind the counter who wouldn’t hang up the phone call with his girlfriend/ mistress/ daughter, while he checked me out, I won’t be heading back there anytime soon. I will need to find a new Jewish deli to satisfy my occasional salted meat craving.
Customer service seems to be a dying art. Some companies get it. I had dinner at Sushi Brokers in Scottsdale last night and the staff was awesome – from the bartenders to the bus boys. They always take good care of us there and that’s why when I have the cash for sushi, that’s my favorite place.
Being nice isn’t enough anymore. But don’t tolerate anything less. Stand up to bad customer service. Train the people who wait on you. Tell them if their service was bad. Don’t tip for bad service. Stand up for a civilized society! I once watched a girl at Subway throwing my sandwich together, not paying attention, clearly preoccupied with something else and making a mess of things. I asked her to stop and reminded her that I was going to eat what she was making and I wasn’t going to eat that. I called her manager over and requested someone else make my sandwich. He obliged and sent the girl on break. I don’t know what happened to her but I felt better. We live in a consumer driven society. Don’t take crap from the people dishing it out… even at Subway.
Ok,. I’m don’t ranting now. Thanks for reading.
Peace.

A short post today. I’m still hung over from the Thanksgiving Turkey massacre. A sharp knife is so important or you get shredded breast meat and a short black lady yelling at you (thanks D). I now know that I can cook thanksgiving dinner for thirty people. Next year I should invite that many people over. Six people barely made a dent in the mile high mound of stuffing. And what do you do with so much leftover ham? Mmmm… ham. Anyway, I survived Thursday only to have to clean and shop and prepare for the Saturday night party. Many fewer people this year but I learned a long time ago, appreciate your guests who do show. I think those who were there had a fun time. I did, and I only misbehaved a little. And I was so much more relaxed this year than ever. So much booze left over — we’ll have to have another party soon. Off to rehydrate. I have to work today.
Peace!

I love food. Plain and simple, I love the sheer joy that comes with the crunch into a deep fried chicken breast, placed gently under a fresh piece of tomato and lettuce, coated in buffalo sauce between two pieces of warm bread. Who can resist the gentle cracks of the hard candy shells releasing the sweet taste of chocolate in a handful of the world’s most perfect snack food. Take a simple food like a potato, fry it in oil until lightly brown, toss in a pinch of salt and cover with tomato ketchup and enjoy. Aaaaaah… it’s no wonder I”m fat. I love eating and lately, I can’t seem to get enough food. I’m heavier than I’ve ever been and can’t seem to slow down my appetite. Lately, I find myself really enjoying foods from the four main food groups- pizza, fried anything, whatever you can buy from a drive-thru window and M&Ms. That’s really all anyone needs to survive. Let’s talk pizza.

Pizza!! There are two kinds of pizza – great pizza and that was gross, but hell, it was pizza. For my dollar, any pizza that comes in a box from the freezer falls into the “gross but” category. For good pizza, it has to be thin, it has to be greasy and it has to be just over-cooked. Nothing will ever beat the experience of a slice of Mack’s Pizza from the Boardwalk in Atlantic City. Each piece is just too big to hold in one hand so you have to fold it to eat it properly. Upon folding, the oil from the sauce and the cheese begins to pool and as you lift the slice to your mouth it begins to gently run down your palm and onto your wrist. As you chew the perfect crust and cheese and sauce flavor combination, you’ve got to lower your arm and wipe or risk staining the cuff of your shirt. That’s the pizza standard. In Arizona, Red Devil Pizza comes close although the ratios of dough/sauce/cheese are a little off. Pinnacle Pizza in north Scottsdale also creates an excellent slice. Two exceptions to pizza excellence – Costco pizza, whether by the slice for $1.50!! or fresh frozen to make at home is an excellent doughy pizza that supersizes the ratios but really works as great pizza. And any pizza sliced into squares, like they do at Oregano’s immediately destroys the innate pizzaness of the food and deserves to be sent back for repair.

Fried foods are a gift from the gods. From egg-rolls to french-fries to buffalo wings, buffalo chicken, and buffalo anything, a deep fryer can transform an ordinary food into a bite of heaven. Donuts are fried. Churros, fried then covered in cinnamon and sugar – come on! Order me two! The other night I found myself at Denny’s at 3 AM. Did you know they have a menu item called Pancake Puppies – pancake batter, deep fried, covered in, yes, cinnamon and sugar and served with warm maple syrup. Pure Bliss. Hat’s off to Mr. Denny’s fine chefs.

I don’t think I have to say anything more about drive-thru food. Jack’s sirloin burger, McD’s Filet-o-Fish, Wendys’ Chicken, Taco Bell’s … anything really, all perfect. My body is definitely built by Jack, and that’s in the Box, not La Lane. Finally, the most perfect of foods. M&Ms. Chocolate goodness wrapped in a crispy candy shell. Melts in your mouth, not in your hands. I could live on M&Ms, particularly now that they come not only in male and female (with and without nuts), they come with peanut butter, almonds, dark chocolate and gourmet versions too. The M&M stores are merely shrines built to honor the gods of food. If you haven’t been to one, go, now. And bring me a home a bag of peanut-butter M&Ms. I couldn’t end today’s post about my favorite foods without mentioning a new favorite restaurant. Yes, those who know me know that the only place I consider home away from home is China Chili (at least until Daniel from Sabuddy’s reappears someplace). But lately, the Two Hippies Breakfast Joint has become a new favorite. Five dollars for a hearty breakfast in a fun environment. Try the stuffed french toast! It’ll rock your world.