An Asian Hooters Christmas

There is a chance that my one reader has not seen the episode yet, but I've got to blog about the last installment of The Office before my memories of it fall into one of the oubliettes of my mind, forever lost. Needless to say, but I'm going to say it anyway, there are spoilers below. You've been warned.

Holy !$#%^ crap, that episode was hilarious.

Longtime fans of the show will agree that Creed doesn't get enough airtime, but we were treated with another glimpse into his creepy life in the beginning of this episode. Creed saunters in, sees the Toys For Tots box, peruses casually, and just as casually tucks a toy under his arm. Considering he has no kids, I don't want to know why he's taking the toy. When told that he's supposed to put toys in the box, he merely replies with, "And a Merry Christmas to you, too!" and continues sauntering to his desk. Creed rocks.

Meredith is another Office B-Lister. The red-headed alcoholic has more clips in the deleted scenes than any other B-Lister I've seen, and she's usually very funny. The editors kept a few of her scenes this time, and she didn't disappoint. When offered a margarita at Karen and Pam's (more on that most awesome of pairings later) much funner party, she politely refuses with, "No, they're too sweet," and proceeds to walk off with an entire bottle of vodka and a determined look in her eye.

Just like Michelle, I gave a little shout when I saw Oscar make his abortive return to the staff of Dunder-Mifflin. I hope this means we'll see him as a regular when the show comes off the Winter hiatus. Oscar's reactions to the crap that goes on at Dunder-Mifflin Scranton are priceless.

Continuing on in the B-List vein, let's look at Kevin. The poor man's quandary about whether to attend Angela's party or not could be boiled down to a hilarious pro and con. He sat there in the confessional weighing his love for double fudge brownies on one hand against his distaste for Angela on the other. You could really tell that he was hard-pressed, too. If you blinked, you probably missed his graceful exit from Angela's soiree as someone left the door open too long. Brownies in hand, he joined the festivities of the Karen/Pam party.

Speaking of Angela, was she in rare form that night! My jaw dropped almost as far as Karen's as she delivered a scathing dressing down and summarily dismissed the latter from the party-planning commission. A brilliant, but sadly deleted scene, even shows us Angela getting physical with poor, depressing Toby, and not in the good way. At least Her Vileness got a write up for it. The softer side of Angela actually came one step closer to making its appearance in the office when she and Dwight K. Schrute shared a surreptious handholding moment. Awwwww.

Toby and Stanley had a couple of good lines while I can't recall Ryan or Kelly doing anything really memorable. The A-Listers, however, had some truly great moments.

First, the inevitable love triangle, Karpim, er, Jaram, no, Pimen, um, Kkkkkk-Jam, screw it, Karen/Jim/Pam. I'll admit that I'm on Team Karen, doomed though I know it to be. Jim even confirmed that Karen is a rebound from his fruitless attempts to get with Pam in season 2. I understand Jim and Pam have a history and they share in little moments, but Karen is cuter, geeky in a good way, and makes no attempt to hide her interest in Jim. Pam, on the other hand, obviously doesn't know what she wants with her friendly chats with Roy and her frequent attempts to buddy around with Jim. You can't have it both ways, Pam. I'll just leave that relationship with the bittersweet montage of Karen/Jim moments playing in my mind.

Starting at the top of the list, the big kahuna, the best boss in the world, Mr. Scott-o! Speaking of inevitable love triangles, Michael's has now been broken on both sides. Not since Randy had a mariachi player follow him around with the Spanish version of Time After Time on My Name is Earl has a breakup been so entertaining. Granted, that was just a week ago, but still. In order to cheer him up, perrenial suckup Andy invites Michael to Benihana, which shall forever more be known as Asian Hooters. Of course, Michael needs his entourage, bros before hos, after all. So Michael, Andy, Dwight, and a reluctant Jim file out of the office for some male bonding. The funniest bit of the Asian Hooters scenes was Jim falling back into old habits as he explained to Dwight, who had to sit apart from the bros due to a hapless couple's unfortunate seating choice, that the conversation between Michael and the cute Asian waitress was about her difficulty killing and skinning a goose. Of course, ever the helpful know-it-all, Dwight launches into the proper procedure at full volume over the heads of his unfortunate table mates and to the horrified dismay of the waitress. We know that Dwight K. Schrute is an expert in this as he performed the service just that morning on the Christmas Miracle Goose he hit on the way into work.

Meanwhile, Pam felt guilty about not standing up for Karen in the party planning meeting. Since she has no outward reason to dislike Karen, she decides to try to be her friend. Before his trip to Asian Hooters, you can see that Jim is decidedly uncomfortable with the two girls giggling and plotting in the corner. Turns out that he has nothing to worry about yet, as their plotting involves creating the Committee for Party Planning in direct opposition to Angela's Iron Fist Party Planning Committee. Further, their party will start 15 minutes before Angela's and will include margaritas and karaoke! I have to admit that I was smirking right alongside the girls as they shoved their party announcement into Angela's mortified gob. I believe that the Karen/Pam team may be a force to be reckoned with.

To prove that they are gracious in victory, Karen and Pam invite Angela to combine parties once they have succeeded in luring over almost every one of Angela's partygoers. In one last show of her innate snarkiness, Angela reveals that she was the culprit in the Mystery of the Missing Karaoke Machine Power Cord. Even she got her swerve on in the karaoke singing with a stirring rendition of Little Drummer Boy with Dwight's vox drum accompaniment.

Poor Michael Scott experiences heartache once more as his Asian Hooters date decides to split with his bicycle and turns down his invitation to Jamaica's hottest all-inclusive resort. Here is where we get to see Jim wax on about rebounds and the power of that first, true love. Ah, Karen/Jim, we barely knew thee. Mark my words, this is the beginning of the end for them.

Oh, and who was that Michael Scott convinced to go with him to Jamaica on the phone at the end? It couldn't be Jan. She can't be that desperate, can she? I see comedy on the horizon!

New York, New York, New York-What, It wasn't so Nice that They Named it Thrice?

Stacy’s brother and his family came into town last week. Between them and my other obligations, recreational time in front of the computer is minimized to slow periods at work, like now.

We suggested a few places to go for sight seeing and such, including a possible overnight trip to New York. Naturally, they waited until the day before to decide on going to NYC. After a mad dash to reserve a hotel room in Manhattan and plan the trip, we were ready.

The drive up to Manhattan is five to six hours long, depending on whether you drive like a bat out of hell or my grandma after she forgot her glasses were propped up in her mass of the blue light-bulb-head hair. We drove somewhere in-between, which would have gotten us to NYC in about five and a half hours. I say would, because that’s not what happened.

Stacy’s sister-in-law has a bladder the size of a baby titmouse’s. I lost count of the times we had to stop on the New Jersey turnpike so she could avail herself of the facilities. In spite of her overactive plumbing, we got to NYC in about six and a half hours. That got us there just in time to check into the hotel room.

We had reservations at a place run by Woo-Go. I’d never heard of them and had a hard time taking any company with a name that rhymes with Yugo seriously. After circling the block umpteen times, we found the building, unnumbered and unnamed. The lobby was clean but looked like it was original 1930s interior. We tried to check in at the front desk but once the clerk found out we were using Woo-Go, we were directed to apartment 14A. Wait a sec, this is an apartment building? Curious and withholding judgment, the four of us dragged the six kids up the elevator to the 14th floor (which, incidentally, was not a renumbered 13th floor.) Apartment 14A was too cramped to fit more than one or two of us. From what I glanced from the doorway, I figured it was a residence apartment, complete with a dumpy galley kitchen and a couple of desks in the living room. Stacy’s sister-in-law checked us in and pointed us to our apartment, 8A. Another quick elevator ride and we arrived at the door to our room.

Behind the door the wondrous land of New York apartments greeted us. We had a three bedroom suite with a fold-out couch in the living room. There were ten of us with sleep arrangements for eight, but the babies would be sleeping with the parents anyway. The entire apartment had bare wood floors complete with unidentifiable stains in every room, doubtless some sort of bodily fluid. The stains were not restricted to the floor alone. The walls were a dingy, marked off-white in dire need of repainting or cleaning.

The concerns about the room ended there, though. The furniture was in moderately good repair and the entire apartment was very clean. I was waiting for the night to set and the famous cockroaches of NYC to make their appearance, but not even a NYC-street-vendor-hot-dog-induced midnight trip to the dark bathroom coaxed them out. Woo-Go may need to find better offices and refurbish their apartment, but other than that, the room was a great value.

Our first day there was Tuesday, which was overcast and drizzly. After we checked in we decided to do a guided tour of the major sights in NYC the next day. With the rest of the day left to us, we decided to go to the top of the Empire State Building. Our hotel/apartment was two blocks over and twenty blocks down. It’s a good walk, but not unreasonable. We bundled the kids into strollers and frontpacks and headed into the city. Luckily, we had the foresight to pack ponchos and three umbrellas. Between those and jackets, we kept the bulk of the drizzle at bay.

Stacy and I have been to NYC a couple of times, so we weren’t too keen on snapping a bunch of pics on the way to the ESB, but her brother had his camera at the ready the entire time. I kept my eye out for Michelle sightings, but sadly, there were none. I don’t know what I would have done if I had seen her. Run up like a star-crazed fan and ask her to sign my boobs? I think we’d both exit that scene embarrassed and slightly ashamed. If we had more time and Michelle was making a comedy club appearance nearby, I would have made a point to go, though.

The Empire State Building was empty. The only people we saw on our trek up to the observation deck were employees. Each of whom made it a point to tell us that there was zero visibility because of the clouds and that we should pay extra for the audio tour so we knew what we were missing. Isn’t that a little masochistic? Stacy and I had seen the view from up there, so we didn’t mind. Her brother and clan still wanted to go since that was their only chance. Go we did. The observation deck was a sight to behold. The top of the Empire State Building was wreathed in misty clouds. Occasionally, the wind would shift just right and the clouds would part enough to reveal a nearby building or the streets below. The rain didn’t so much as fall as hang in the air. The overall effect was very surreal. If we didn’t know we were on the top of the building, we could have been in a deep, isolating fog anywhere.

We stopped by a hot dog vendor on the way back to the hotel and I wolfed down two of the greazy sausages and half a pretzel. I would later regret that decision as mentioned before, but I won’t go into the details. One of these days I’ll have a Papaya Dog when I’m up there. If Food Network is to be believed, they’re one of the best East Coast dogs you can get besides the Coney Island dogs.

Besides the unfortunate trip to the bathroom, the night passed uneventfully. We got up early to pack up the room and check out before our tour. The shuttle parked one block down and three over, so the walk was much shorter that morning. The weather was cool and overcast, but the rain held off. A native New Yorker named Robert guided our tour. Working on eight years of guiding tours, he was knowledgeable about every site we saw, even imparting some little anecdotes from past tours and famous happenings.

There were a lot of highlights on the tour, too many to impart in the limited time I have before I’m relieved today. One of my favorite sites was Seinfeld’s Soup Nazi kitchen. I’ll be back later with pics and a little more on the tour.

Star Crash, It Ain't Star Wars but They Hope You Won't Notice

Originally posted April 20, 2006

Another quick entry:

I just followed a link from the ever hilarious Michelle Collins to Thighs Wide Shut where I saw the following trailer.

Suffice it to say, it is my new life's mission to watch this movie.