BOSTON: FOOD EDITION

WE DIDN'T HAVE BEANS OR CLAM CHOWDAH

What trip to a great city would be complete without a discussion of the cuisine. I didn't have a favorite place or dish in Boston, but I did enjoy just about everything I gobbled down. 

So let's look at a few of my favorite places from Beantown's famous seafood restaurants to their epic Little Italy in the North End. 

Late Friday afternoon, we stopped at Atlantic Fish Company on Boylston Street where I ordered the blackened halibut with broccoli and corn pudding. 

Nicole got the fried haddock platter. She didn't particularly like it, so she ended up eating a good chunk of my halibut, which we both enjoyed. The halibut had just the right amount of chewiness and spicy kick to it. 

The haddock wasn't too bad, either. It wasn't too much different from fried catfish. My biggest surprise was the corn pudding. Didn't know if I would like it, but it's my new favorite side. 

On Thursday night, we went to Grill 23  after some thorough research on Google into the steak scene in Beantown. 

We both got filet. I was more than satisfied. Nicole said her order of medium rare wasn't cooked right. 

You might be starting to notice a theme, but those were her only complaints on the trip. Her leftovers made a nice snack for me later in the trip while chilling in our condo. 

Perhaps the coolest part in all of Boston is Little Italy. It has 90 Italian restaurants and pastry shops all in one neighborhood. 

On Saturday night, we walked down Salem Street where it's just one Italian joint after another. Basically, it's a little taste of heaven. The only problem is picking a spot, which I left up to Nicole, who picked La Famiglia Giorgio's. 

It had a 30-minute wait despite being surrounded by several other places with no waits. 

And I knew we were in good shape when our waitress approached. She belonged in both Boston and Italy, with her thick Boston ascent -- I like ya nailz dalin'-- and her Italian mother presence -- I thought I had warped back to being at my grandma's table and not in a fancy restaurant. 

I got the veal/eggplant parm combo pictured above, with homemade angel hair pasta. In the background, you can see Nicole twirling her spaghetti, with Italian sausage. 

We both loved it. It was probably the best veal I've ever eaten, and we both had full Sunday lunches off the leftovers and still didn't finish all our food. 

On Sunday night, we were joined by Christina -- in town for a wild bachelorette party -- and went to America's oldest restaurant, the Union Oyster House. 

You could just feel the history in there -- OK, not really, it was like any other slightly nice restaurant. 

Christina enjoyed her lobster ravioli, Nicole's daring choice to order the butterfly shrimp was not a disaster, and I sort of enjoyed my scrod -- a bit too chewy, and just not in the caliber as the halibut I had two days prior. 

And what adventure with Nicole and me involved would be remotely believable without a solid run of pizza excursions. 

How many pizza places did we eat at? Go ahead and make your guess. We left at 6 a.m. Wednesday and returned at 11 p.m. Monday. ... 

Keep thinking. 

Keep in mind all the other places I just talked about. 

Final guesses. Pencils down. 

The answer is ... 

Five. 

Wednesday: We stopped in Astoria, New York, during our layover and had pizza with her aunt and uncle at Rosario's Italian bakery. 

All four of us got a slice, and then we ordered two more. Pretty good. 

Thursday: We went to Picco's in South Boston -- called Southy by the locals. 

Also pretty good. I got pepperoni, mushrooms and roasted peppers. 

On Friday, we started the day with a tour of Harvard, and Nicole thought it would be fun to eat in a Harvard cafeteria. And it was. 

We dined at the Science building. It was far better pizza than I expected. Fuck yeah, Science!

On Monday -- yes we skipped two whole days -- we stopped in Little Italy one more time before heading for the airport. 

We ate at Regina Pizzeria, the most famous pizza place in Boston. And the first bite explained why as my pizza was rich with flavor from their special sauce, with a nice follow up push from their little, but thick cheese. 

I got pepperoni, mushroom and artichoke  hearts. Not to mention a souvenir cup! And just look at how loaded it is. 

The place was near empty when we walked in right before noon. When we left, the line just to get in the building was wrapped around the street. 

The fifth pizza was in the Chicago airport, where I was trying to give Nicole a taste of Chicago-style pie. Alas, my efforts were unsuccessful as the airport express version was only a hint of the magic that is Windy City deep dish. 

But here's to you, Boston. I came expecting to learn some history and explore a revolutionary American town. And I did. 

But I left mainly with thoughts to plan my next trip to Little Italy. 

BOSTON: PEOPLE EDITION

NOBODY SAID WICKED :(

I'm sitting in the airport after five days in Boston. And boy did a lot happen in Beantown. To recap my New England adventure I will be telling the story in themes. Today's theme, the weird things we saw Boston citizens doing this past week. 

Let's start with a strange Chinese looking lady. She was standing on the sidewalk -- doing what I don't have a clue. 

We came out of the subway, and as we began walking, I let out a wicked sneeze. That didn't set well with the old lady. 

She stared at me and unleashed a verbal rampage in Chinese -- or Korean or whatever she speaks -- the likes of which scared the holy Buddha out of me. 

I couldn't really respond, but as we walked away, she was still pointing at me and yelling in Mandarin. 

There was the older short gentleman with just a rat tail for hair who was asking women out for dinner, except no women were really anywhere near him. He also seemed quite upset, I guess because he couldn't score a date for the evening. 

There was the worker who yelled "Suck my dick" pretty darn loud while filling holes in the street. In his defense he had DMX blaring out his construction vehicle. Didn't really belong in Little Italy at noon. 

There's the homeless of course, the one thread of people every major city has in common. You expect to be asked for change, but each city always brings a unique encounter. (My all-time favorite is still the Atlanta gentleman that followed Paul for about a mile and couldn't believe his efforts didn't lead to Paul going into a Subway -- the line was out into the street -- to buy him a foot-long.)

The top 3 strangest homeless experiences in Boston. 

3. The guy who had a sign that said: "no story here. Just down on my luck."

2. The man who fell asleep on the street with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and his finger on the lighter, which almost was at the cig. 

1. The dude pushing his cart along the sidewalk, stopping in front of a restaurant with outside seating and proceeding to curse out one of the patrons. He said "motherfucker" several times as the patron tried to ignore him and we stopped to watch what would happen. 

The homeless man eventually stopped yelling and started pushing his cart again, still mumbling "motherfucker" as he went. 

This old man didn't do anything weird, but he's my dad's doppelgänger, so he makes this post. 

It would have been one badass prank for my dad to buy tickets in the same Fenway Park section, follow me to Boston and then just sit there and watch the game while I sit there and thought "hmmm, nah, well?!?, nah" for three hours. 

This has-it-all-together Bostonian clipped his nails while waiting for the Subway. Efficient, I reckon. 

The shirtless black dude got the crowd gathered around him all excited for like 30-45 minutes. We only stopped because the crowd in this square had swelled so much. Must be something to see. 

All he did was yell about nothing, clap and collect money. And he hustled up close to $200 in the time I watched this ridiculous street show. He went on and on and on -- like this paragraph -- and nothing happened. 

Finally, after he sort of forced even more money out of the second to last white dude in this line, one of his cronies -- with the entire crowd of 200 or so people excitedly clapping and Nicole and I still trying to figure out wtf all the excitement was about, because again nothing had happened in half an hour -- jumped over five of those people lined up in the photo. 

It was a decent jump. But after all that money gathering, clapping and random excitement from the crowd, that's all that happened. That felt good to get out. 

In the middle of the day, we watched this guy climb a fence and enter some building through the fire escape. Criminal or normal occurrence? Dunno. 

As we end our first Boston post -- hopefully several more posts to come -- here are the five best quotes I overheard strangers say in the home of clam chowder. 

5. On Saturday, a young businessman passes us on the street and says into the phone: "I'm not losing my business and my job over you."

Was it a client? Lover? Both?

4. On Thursday, we were at the Boston Common public park, and a young lady admires a duck dunking his head in and out of the water. Her: "Oh my god, I wanna be a duck."

3. On Wednesday, a middle-aged woman looks at a shirt at a merchandise stand and says "what's KVP?" The vendor explains that's the nickname of one of the Boston players. "It's for Pablo Sandoval. He's called the Kung Fu Panda." 

Keep in mind that Sandoval has won two World Series and got a $100 million contract from the Red Sox in the offseason. 

Her: "I watch every game. I've never heard of that."

2. At the same park as in No. 4 and looking at the same group of ducks, an adorable little girl asks grandpa: "Is it fun to be a duck?"

That's her later on the mother duck, Mrs. Mallard. I swear we weren't stalking her. 

1. On Friday, I'm waiting in line to pee at a library. One lady to another: "I'll just meet you downstairs, OK?"

"But I have to poo, so ..."

"Oh."

ALSO, I HURT MY FOOT. SAW A DOCTOR. IT'S BETTER NOW.

PARTY PLANNING COMMITTEE

Ever since we got engaged, most of our lives have evolved around organizing the wedding. Actually, it ain't been all that bad, just a little bit stressful. 

Let's see, we have a date, a church, a priest, a reception hall, a photographer, a videographer, transportation and a photo booth type thing only better. 

But let's look at some pictures and see what else has been happening. Cool?

A five-year saga came to an end on Tuesday when Nicole took my Meachem ball to Saints minicamp, waited out the crowd and scored Brees' autograph, even though I told her that task was really difficult to accomplish. 

So to recap, I went to a Saints game in Tampa Bay in 2010, Meachem caught a TD from Brees -- the 245th of his career -- and threw it directly to me in the fifth row. 

Lopes said his girlfriend could get it signed through her family working with the Saints, she basically hijacked the ball, Lopes broke up with her without telling me I might be fucked on the ball, and then with the help of JRap, I stalked the bitch down and got my ball back. 

That night could be argued as our first date, as Nicole and I drove to the bitch's house, retrieved the football -- the bitch had it hanging from a grocery bag off a fence -- and then had pizza. 

Last year, Nicole stalked down Meachem at the Fox and Hound, and I got his autograph on the ball, though he was less than enthused by the story. 

And now Brees' autograph -- albeit small and possibly unauthenticable (made that word up) -- is right there, too. 

A piece of Saints history. 

Put the house on the market Monday, though I accepted an offer beforehand. Fingers crossed I don't need a second buyer. 

Check it out. http://m.movoto.com/river-ridge-la/416-park-ridge-dr-river-ridge-la-70123-721_2017221/

The house served me well for nearly four years, but it's time to start the next chapter. With a girl. Yuck. 

Pretty sign, eh?

Got an awesome frame from a neighborhood frame shop. Red trim mat with purple background. We know how good it looks, but you can tell me so anyway. 

The girl that helped us pick the frame and colors said not one word about the poster. Nothing. No, aw, how cute. Or how did you do this in the paper? Nothing. 

When I picked up the frame the next week, she said it came out really nice. Like as in the shop's labor force did well. No, we were all gushing at how cool the page is or again, how did you do this?

Nothing!!!!!!!!!!!

After taking several years off from baseball, I'm back. And since WGN decided it was WGN America and not a WGN that shows Cubs games, I recently purchaed mlbtv for $25 a month. Can watch any game, even on my phone. 

All kinds of other features, too. Baseball!

Went to yet another wrestling show a few weeks ago. So I write these articles on Nola -- they really good -- and the WWE gives me free tickets. 

The first few times, Paul and I sat on the floor in the second row. The last time in January we were in the second row of section 113 and this time the 15th row. 

In a few years, they are going to give me tickets outside the building.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom couldn't get over Bruce Jenner as a woman. 

"Fucking cover of fucking Vanity Fair. That's history. Vanity Fair is a fucking fashion magazine."

She continued. 

"That's got to be strange. Boobs with a dick."

Mom was in a mood. And she felt the need to express her rights as a dying person. 

"I can look at you however the fuck I want. I can tell anyone whatever the fuck I want. And if they don't like it, I don't give a shit."