Some dude sent me an email saying he was having difficulty using the Tremonter forums. He said he was getting a “user already exists” error when trying to post. I thought I explained the difficulty quite well. He had registered an account and then tried to post without having logged in. The forum then asks for a temporary username, and if it matches a registered user, it fails. I explained that, and I gave him several different options for posting. This morning I get an email that says:
“Forget it. The site is too hard to use. See ya!”
Someone must not use the internets very often.
With all the talk about the upcoming Cleveland Ingenuity Festival, I’ve had plenty of exposure to my greatest grammar pet peeve. I wouldn’t even have this almost psychopathic hatred of this common mistake if it weren’t for my high school communications and journalism teacher, Mr. Glowacki.
There is no such thing as FIRST ANNUAL.
The word you want is INAUGURAL.
This is not the FIRST ANNUAL Cleveland Ingenuity Festival. What if it doesn’t happen next year? Won’t be annual then, will it? It should be the INAUGURAL Cleveland Ingenuity Festival.
Local media culprits:
Cleveland Free Times [No online evidence, at least until they get some of the more recent issues up]
Local Media Heros
[is it just me or do all those radio sites look the bloody same?]
Cleveland Jewish News
Cleveland.com and WGAR don’t say inaugural or “first annual” and it doesn’t appear that any of the TV stations are covering it.
I got zero sleep last night and no one likes my shirt today. Also, my bike tire is flat. Your challenge is to guess why I’m in a good mood when I’m not too tired to think.
When I went to get my laundry out of the dryer at the laundromat, raw sewage was floating out of the main doors. And the guy that manages the places what squeegeeing shit down a drain. Bonus.
Okay, I stole the title for these from Stephen King’s Dark Tower series, but that is beside the point. They were tasty enough and took less time to make than even spaghetti. About 15 minutes from lighting the oven to stuffing my face.
What I used:
2 really really small pieces of sliced pork loin
1 can of black beans
2 cups of corn
grated cheddar cheese
What I did:
I drained and rinsed the beans and poured ‘em in a pot and then seasoned them with cumin and chili powder and cayenne pepper and a little bit of cilantro, stirred em up real well and cooked and mashed the devil out of ‘em. Meanwhile I had the corn cooking as well. I seared my superthin pork loin and then chopped it, tossed it back in, seasoned it with more chili powder and cumin and a tiny bit of cinnamon and kept it cooking. I had about two minutes to kill so I grated some cheese. Then I mashed the devil out of the beans some more. I don’t know how to make refried beans, but this looked like it at least. Everything was done at this point so I spread it on some tortillas, poured a little salsa on ‘em and dug in. This meal rates quite high on the bachelor scale of home cooking. It will probably make about four normal sized burritos but I only got 2.5 out of mine.
If you go over to Tremonter you can check out the progressively drunker reviews I did for all the places in Tremont that have Guinness on tap. This post links to all of ‘em. I was alone for most of the tour, but Jeff Schuler caught up with me at The Treehouse. He’s a cool guy, just moved to Tremont a few weeks back and lives on W. 11th. He gave Steve Goldberg a ring, but he was busy getting his hands done at the Literary Café. I’ve finally found a good place to toss darts in the neighborhood. The Starkweather has excellent real dartboards. I do think at times I drifted away of my true purpose, the scientific study of Guinness and instead I scientifically studied the girls. I hope my experiments didn’t muddle up each other’s results. I’m not much of a drinker, 8 pints in 6 hours had me pretty well sauced, and if I keep up the tour of all the local bars in Tremont, I might need that extra liver that Jaclyn offered me last week.
we all say
the clouds over
today they are
the only orators
Our words dissolved
like a dusty
too proud to
lie in the rain.