Jan. 13, 2010

13 Jan

9 am

1 bowl of Total raisin bran

9:45 am


1 tall nonfat latte

1 petite vanilla scone

12:45 pm

BP Oysterette

1/2 dozen raw oysters

fish n’ chips

2 pints Allegash White Beer

Why the hell did I chose a seafood bar for a lunch place to meet a fellow unemployed friend?! I don’t want to admit the damage this meal did to my wallet ($55). Was it worth it? I don’t know. The oysters were pretty good, impeccably shucked and properly briny. It came with a shallot vinegarette and a rather unmemorable cocktail sauce, but the oysters didn’t need a lot of accoutrements. Coupled with an Allegash White and it was soulfully satisfying. The fish n’ chips on the other hand was a disappointment. The cod itself was great; it was the heavy, cloddish batter that undermined it. It also wouldn’t stick to the fish, so it makes me wonder if they dusted the fish with flour beforehand. The batter seemed more like a tempura egg wash than anything. My friend had fish tacos which came with a big glop of chipotle aioli on top. It was unappetizing. BP Oysterette is a tiny New England-ish seafood shack gussied up for a Westside clientele by the people who own Blue Plate Diner on Montana Ave. I’ve read some decent reviews and the general consensus is that raw and/or simple items are your best bets. All fried food here supposedly have the same heavy batter as the fish n’ chips. I was going to get the clam chowder instead but wanted something more substantial. My mistake. Despite my rather average but pricey meal, I’d come back. It’s a very convenient place for oysters and a drink or two, and the seafood itself is of high quality. I’d just ignore half the menu next time and stay within my budget.

2:45 pm

1 bottle of Neuro-trim

The Santa Monica steps are one of the more curious landmarks in the Los Angeles area. It’s essentially 189 steep steps (yes, I counted) nestled into a hill on 4th and San Vicente. The only way you’ll find it is by spotting some good-looking Westsiders dressed in Lulolemon clothes stretching nearby. Around rush hour, traffic on the steps is equally as bad as the 405 freeway.  This is also a pretty good place for celebrity sightings. My best sighting was Anna Faris, but one of my friends spotted Brad Pitt years ago.

Since I had lunch plans in Santa Monica and no job afterward, I decided to run these steps during it’s off-hours (before 3 pm). I used to do these steps semi-regularly when I worked at MTV in Santa Monica, but it’s been at least four years since I’ve done them. I used to do six trips up and down. Today, I almost passed out after four trips. At the top of my last ascent that I barely made, I was met by two attractive girls, one of whom handed me a bottle of sports drink.

“Am I in heaven?” I asked.

“Um, no,” one of the girls hesitantly replied in a creeped-out way. “We’re just handing out free Neuro-trim drinks.”

And so they were. It was smart to park themselves at a spot where ragged people soaked in sweat congregate. The sooner they hand out their drinks, the sooner they can go home. I’ve never heard of Neuro-trim. It makes some pretty lofty claims. It curbs appetite, increases metabolism, burns calories faster, fights aging, improves your digestive system and helps you lose weight. The only Neuro-trim doesn’t do is taste good. I can only describe the flavor as lemony, with a hint of ass butter. It’s also impossible for any drink to be that great of a cure-all. This is all in the tradition of the medicine shows, the great American tradition where shysters hock cure-alls to a gullible audience drawn in by a freak show. If energy drinks are going to push these tonics on us, at least give us midgets! Although two attractive women are OK, I guess. One of them took a picture of me covered in sweat, gasping for air and holding a bottle for the company’s website. I shudder to think about how that picture will be used.

8 pm

1 peanut butter and jelly sandwich

8 mini-pretzels

2 glasses of water

Whaddaya know. My appetite was curbed. Maybe that Neuro-trim was right…

11:30 pm

1 slice of Kraft individually-wrapped American cheese

…or maybe not.


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