The USA Network has been running a LOCI Marathon since 8:00p.m. last night through 11:00p.m. this evening to – according to the website – “get us back in a CI state of mind” before the season premiere this Thursday. Since I am seldom more than two seconds away from that state of blessed nirvana, USA need not have bothered on my behalf, but I have to admit that I have been enjoying the nonstop parade of Goren and Eames (Eames as in Alexandra, Goren’s partner) episodes all the same. Lest you think me completely devoid of a life, however, I should report that I did manage to get a few chores done today during the Logan/Wheeler installments. And, if that is not enough, BRAVO has a mini LOCI marathon every Sunday night from 6:00p.m. to 2:00a.m., so when the USA marathon ends, I can just switch to that channel to continue my Bobby-ogling. (Just so you know, if Bobby-ogling was an Olympic event, I'd be the gold medal winner!)
Now, the reason for this post. All this Bobby-watching got me thinking about some of my favorite Goren quotes. After six seasons, there have been several, but I believe I will start with the following. It is from Season 2 and the episode is called “Bright Boy.” Please allow me to set-up the scene for you.
Goren and Eames are in the middle of investigating a crime scene. The apparent prime target is the Deputy Mayor and, while Bobby is checking out the dead guy in the car, Eames is getting the low down from one of the cops who arrived on the scene earlier. Goren is in the back, reaching over the front seat in rapt examination of the body. He has plucked a microscopic fabric thread from the deceased’s clothing with a pair of tweezers and is examining it closely when Eames walks up and pokes her head in the passenger door, and the following conversation ensues.
Goren: “Looks like Webster had a passenger, sat close to him, wore a purple cashmere sweater.”
Eames: “Tight-fitting, size 2, with a plunging neckline.”
Now, it’s back to Goren, who doesn’t miss a beat and with a contemplative expression, he looks at the tweezers holding the thread and delivers the following line, “Hmm. That I can’t tell from this.” Then he gives Eames a half smile – the second photo – and they get on with their investigation.
Since the show, by nature, is a crime drama – light moments such as these are a rare treat, so when they do happen, I savor them.
Well, that's about it for this post. I am off to do my nails, then I shall crawl into bed with Bobby and watch the BRAVO LOCI marathon until I drift off to Bobby-dreamland.
With thanks to Val for the photos.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Cincinnati Cuisine
I moved to Cincinnati about ten years ago, more out of necessity than desire, but that’s another post. Today, I want to talk about Cincinnati chili…more specifically…Skyline Chili. Now, if you’ve never experienced it, let me try to describe it for you. First, it is like no other chili I’ve ever tasted. Where I come from, chili is chockfull of beans, meaty chunks of ground beef, onions, peppers, and tomatoes and spices like chili powder, but not here.
There are no beans in Cincinnati chili and the beef is ground up so finely that one can barely tell what it used to be let alone what it is masquerading as when it is served to you. As for the spices and seasonings, I cannot give a full and true accounting of all of the ingredients, but two of them -- so I'm told -- are cinnamon…and…chocolate. That’s right, I said cinnamon and chocolate…in CHILI.
Now, when I first came here, I wanted to “fit” in and, having heard so much about this heretofore untried delicacy, I promptly took myself off to find the nearest Skyline. They’re pretty much on every corner in this town, so it wasn’t too taxing a proposition. I settled on the house specialty; i.e., the three-way. No, not that kind of three-way. This dish starts out with a layer of spaghetti, which is followed by a generous helping of the chili I just described, and the whole concoction is then topped off with a veritable mountain of finely shredded cheddar cheese. (The truly adventuresome also add onions and red beans, thereby, making it a five-way, but being a Skyline "virgin," -- which is what I call Detective Goren in a little story I'm writing -- I decided that baby steps were by far the wisest way to go.)
Gotta tell ya, wasn’t too impressed with Cincinnati chili my first time, nor my second, third, and fourth times. In fact, that is how people know I am not a “native” of their fair city because true Cincinnatians wean their babies on this stuff. (I'm not joking.) I have been told that it is an “acquired taste,” and I’ve got to tell you it took me all of nine and a half years to finally obtain a taste for it. Last Friday, I was driving around, trying to decide what I wanted for lunch…when it hit me…I was actually craving Skyline.
So, does that make me a “true” Cincinnatian now? No; as I’ve learned, if one isn’t born here, one never truly belongs here, but that, too, is another post. My yearnings for Skyline come about six months apart and every time I break down and give-in to those hankerings, I suffer for them. Boy howdy, do I suffer. Trust me, there is nothing quite like being awakened from a sound sleep at 2:00a.m. with the painfully nagging reminder of what you had for lunch burning a hole in your gullet. Yep, folks, it sticks with you that long...hence my six month hiatus between samplings.
Now, with this glowing endorsement, if you ever happen to be visiting my neck of the woods and your taste buds are feeling a wee bit adventurous, just give me a shout out, and I’ll be happy to treat you to a three-way…Cincinnati style.
The three-way.
There are no beans in Cincinnati chili and the beef is ground up so finely that one can barely tell what it used to be let alone what it is masquerading as when it is served to you. As for the spices and seasonings, I cannot give a full and true accounting of all of the ingredients, but two of them -- so I'm told -- are cinnamon…and…chocolate. That’s right, I said cinnamon and chocolate…in CHILI.
Now, when I first came here, I wanted to “fit” in and, having heard so much about this heretofore untried delicacy, I promptly took myself off to find the nearest Skyline. They’re pretty much on every corner in this town, so it wasn’t too taxing a proposition. I settled on the house specialty; i.e., the three-way. No, not that kind of three-way. This dish starts out with a layer of spaghetti, which is followed by a generous helping of the chili I just described, and the whole concoction is then topped off with a veritable mountain of finely shredded cheddar cheese. (The truly adventuresome also add onions and red beans, thereby, making it a five-way, but being a Skyline "virgin," -- which is what I call Detective Goren in a little story I'm writing -- I decided that baby steps were by far the wisest way to go.)
Gotta tell ya, wasn’t too impressed with Cincinnati chili my first time, nor my second, third, and fourth times. In fact, that is how people know I am not a “native” of their fair city because true Cincinnatians wean their babies on this stuff. (I'm not joking.) I have been told that it is an “acquired taste,” and I’ve got to tell you it took me all of nine and a half years to finally obtain a taste for it. Last Friday, I was driving around, trying to decide what I wanted for lunch…when it hit me…I was actually craving Skyline.
So, does that make me a “true” Cincinnatian now? No; as I’ve learned, if one isn’t born here, one never truly belongs here, but that, too, is another post. My yearnings for Skyline come about six months apart and every time I break down and give-in to those hankerings, I suffer for them. Boy howdy, do I suffer. Trust me, there is nothing quite like being awakened from a sound sleep at 2:00a.m. with the painfully nagging reminder of what you had for lunch burning a hole in your gullet. Yep, folks, it sticks with you that long...hence my six month hiatus between samplings.
Now, with this glowing endorsement, if you ever happen to be visiting my neck of the woods and your taste buds are feeling a wee bit adventurous, just give me a shout out, and I’ll be happy to treat you to a three-way…Cincinnati style.
The three-way.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
My Main Man
Okay, it's time for another Bobby post. Why? Because it's my blog, and I want to. I really, really want to. The picture I have attached below is sitting on my desk at work in a digital clock photo frame. Now, granted, "technically" this is not a likeness of Detective Goren...it is a publicity photo of the actor Vincent D'Onofrio, who portrays the good detective on Law & Order Criminal Intent, or LOCI, as I like to call it. But since this is one of my favorites -- I have many, many favorites -- and it was taken during his "Bobby years," I'm counting it as a Bobby Goren picture.
Anyway, like I said, this is on my desk at work, right smack dab in my line of vision, so that when I look up from my keyboard, I am greeted with this gorgeous bit of eye candy, staring straight at me with that "Come here, darlin'," look in his eye. Now, my boss -- Dave -- saw it one day and, not being familiar with Mr. D., pointed at the photo and asked, "Who's that?" I am unsure if he thought the mystery man could be an "actual" love interest, or if he was thinking that I was just too dang old to have a framed picture of an actor prominently displayed on my desk. I like to fancy he was thinking the "love interest" angle.
So, in my sweetest -- translation: condescending voice, I politely explained that men have their fantasy football, fantasy baseball, fantasy NASCAR, fantasy "this and that" leagues, and that this was my own particular brand of fantasy club. Then I concluded by telling him that I knew what I "needed" to get me through the day...and that he should just leave me bloody well alone and let me do my job. Well, maybe I didn't say that last part out loud...a girl does need to remain gainfully employed after all. Actually, Dave is a good guy, and I have worked for him for almost ten years now, so he is used to my -- shall we say -- forthright utterances.
More work stuff to follow, but for now and without further ado or explanation, I share with you an absolutely luscious photo of my main man...Bobby!
Not sure who gets the credit for this one. I purchased it a long time ago, but probably "captured" this photo on eBay.
Anyway, like I said, this is on my desk at work, right smack dab in my line of vision, so that when I look up from my keyboard, I am greeted with this gorgeous bit of eye candy, staring straight at me with that "Come here, darlin'," look in his eye. Now, my boss -- Dave -- saw it one day and, not being familiar with Mr. D., pointed at the photo and asked, "Who's that?" I am unsure if he thought the mystery man could be an "actual" love interest, or if he was thinking that I was just too dang old to have a framed picture of an actor prominently displayed on my desk. I like to fancy he was thinking the "love interest" angle.
So, in my sweetest -- translation: condescending voice, I politely explained that men have their fantasy football, fantasy baseball, fantasy NASCAR, fantasy "this and that" leagues, and that this was my own particular brand of fantasy club. Then I concluded by telling him that I knew what I "needed" to get me through the day...and that he should just leave me bloody well alone and let me do my job. Well, maybe I didn't say that last part out loud...a girl does need to remain gainfully employed after all. Actually, Dave is a good guy, and I have worked for him for almost ten years now, so he is used to my -- shall we say -- forthright utterances.
More work stuff to follow, but for now and without further ado or explanation, I share with you an absolutely luscious photo of my main man...Bobby!
Not sure who gets the credit for this one. I purchased it a long time ago, but probably "captured" this photo on eBay.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Monday Morning Quarterback
As I have already mentioned, I love sports. Baseball is my first love, but football is a close second. My office at work, until recently, was a veritable cornucopia of sports memorabilia; i.e., framed photos of various key moments in Cincinnati sports history, bobbleheads, autographed baseballs, sports figurines, etc. Because of this blatant display and my ability to “hold my own” in a sports conversation, the majority of the men where I work invariably appear in my office doorway every Monday morning during football season to engage in that age old pastime: Monday morning armchair quarterback. This morning was no different.
Now, I have been a Bengal's season ticket holder since 2004. That was the second year of the Marvin Lewis regime, and fans throughout Bengaldom were elated to see signs of life in a team that had been the scourge of the league for more than a dozen years. I was afraid they were going to get good, and if they got good, it would be impossible to get a ticket without selling a kidney. So, buy a season ticket I did and, in 2005, to the playoffs the Bengals did go. And all was happy in the Jungle until a Pittsburgh Steeler (I hate them) shredded Carson Palmer’s knee on the second play from scrimmage and Bengal Nation had their hopes dashed one more time. Last year, the Bengals won 8 and lost 8, but the fans of this team are hungry for more and we expect/demand more than a breakeven team. This year, the expectations are much, much higher.
So, when they opened at home on Monday Night Football against the Baltimore Ravens…and won, the mood in this town was…well…jubilant. Then my boys traveled north to that city on the lake…Cleveland. Not a Cleveland fan...not now...not ever, but I believe in giving credit where credit is due, and the Browns came to play and beat my guys a whopping 51-45. Now, folks, when your quarterback throws a "ginormous" six touchdown passes and your offense scores 45 points, you expect to win the game. But not this day. While our offense showed up, alas, our defense never made it off the plane, and it is hard to win a game when you cannot outscore your own lackluster defense. Then we went to Seattle yesterday. A better showing. I mean we only lost by three…24-21, but a loss is still a…you know…loss. This team could be, should be 3-0 going into next Monday night’s game against New England, but are we? Nooooooooooooooooo! We’re 1-2, and I’m disgusted and am fixin’ to sell my ticket on Stubhub.com.
What can I say? It’s not easy being a sports fan; especially when your favorite teams are the Cincinnati Reds and the Cincinnati Bengals.
Carson Palmer- our stud of a quarterback.
Now, I have been a Bengal's season ticket holder since 2004. That was the second year of the Marvin Lewis regime, and fans throughout Bengaldom were elated to see signs of life in a team that had been the scourge of the league for more than a dozen years. I was afraid they were going to get good, and if they got good, it would be impossible to get a ticket without selling a kidney. So, buy a season ticket I did and, in 2005, to the playoffs the Bengals did go. And all was happy in the Jungle until a Pittsburgh Steeler (I hate them) shredded Carson Palmer’s knee on the second play from scrimmage and Bengal Nation had their hopes dashed one more time. Last year, the Bengals won 8 and lost 8, but the fans of this team are hungry for more and we expect/demand more than a breakeven team. This year, the expectations are much, much higher.
So, when they opened at home on Monday Night Football against the Baltimore Ravens…and won, the mood in this town was…well…jubilant. Then my boys traveled north to that city on the lake…Cleveland. Not a Cleveland fan...not now...not ever, but I believe in giving credit where credit is due, and the Browns came to play and beat my guys a whopping 51-45. Now, folks, when your quarterback throws a "ginormous" six touchdown passes and your offense scores 45 points, you expect to win the game. But not this day. While our offense showed up, alas, our defense never made it off the plane, and it is hard to win a game when you cannot outscore your own lackluster defense. Then we went to Seattle yesterday. A better showing. I mean we only lost by three…24-21, but a loss is still a…you know…loss. This team could be, should be 3-0 going into next Monday night’s game against New England, but are we? Nooooooooooooooooo! We’re 1-2, and I’m disgusted and am fixin’ to sell my ticket on Stubhub.com.
What can I say? It’s not easy being a sports fan; especially when your favorite teams are the Cincinnati Reds and the Cincinnati Bengals.
Carson Palmer- our stud of a quarterback.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Take Me Out To The Ball Game
Baseball. What can I say? I had three older brothers and my dad, so around our house, it was either learn to like sports, or learn to like sports. Believe you me, I was taught at a very early age when it was okay to walk in front of the TV when a game was on. For example, if the pitcher is in the middle of his wind-up, that trip to the kitchen for a snack or the bathroom run had best be put on the back burner for a few seconds.
My mom liked sports, too. Two of my brothers played baseball, and that was back in the day before babysitters, so my mom loaded up the station wagon and carted all us kids to the games. Hence, my butt was dragged to every little league, Babe Ruth, tournament, and High School baseball game in which my brothers played. Baseball…it’s in my blood.
Now, I was born and raised in a small town in Southern Ohio, and I grew up watching and listening – back in those days, it was mostly listening out on the front porch in the evenings – to the Cincinnati Reds. I was fortunate to be around to witness the hey day of the “Big Red Machine” and got to see guys like Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez, and Johnny Bench play the game. Ah…Johnny Bench, or as I have always called him…J.B. For me, he always has been and always will be my all time favorite ball player. Besides, he was a catcher. I’ve got a "thing" for catchers.
Today, we have players like Adam Dunn, Ken Griffey, Jr., and Brandon Phillips, and we haven’t had a winning season since God was a child. We are, however, the oldest franchise in professional baseball, so that is something. My philosophy is: “Even bad baseball is better than no baseball at all.” And for the past eight long, frustrating years, the Reds have been putting that theory to the test.
My love affair with the game did hit a rocky patch in 1994 when baseball had one of its infamous “work stoppages” because…as we all know…ball players just don’t make enough money for – well – playing a game, and I stayed away for four and a half years before the 1999 Reds enticed me back. Well, I have lots…and I do mean…lots more to impart on the subject of this grand old game, but will save it for future postings. I had prepared my first slideshow, but still lack the basic knowledge to make the transfer from Photobucket to Blogger. Perhaps another time. Meanwhile, please enjoy the following photos of Johnny Bench and Adam Dunn.
Johnny Bench
Photo courtesy of Google.
Adam Dunn
Photo courtesy of Google.
My mom liked sports, too. Two of my brothers played baseball, and that was back in the day before babysitters, so my mom loaded up the station wagon and carted all us kids to the games. Hence, my butt was dragged to every little league, Babe Ruth, tournament, and High School baseball game in which my brothers played. Baseball…it’s in my blood.
Now, I was born and raised in a small town in Southern Ohio, and I grew up watching and listening – back in those days, it was mostly listening out on the front porch in the evenings – to the Cincinnati Reds. I was fortunate to be around to witness the hey day of the “Big Red Machine” and got to see guys like Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, Tony Perez, and Johnny Bench play the game. Ah…Johnny Bench, or as I have always called him…J.B. For me, he always has been and always will be my all time favorite ball player. Besides, he was a catcher. I’ve got a "thing" for catchers.
Today, we have players like Adam Dunn, Ken Griffey, Jr., and Brandon Phillips, and we haven’t had a winning season since God was a child. We are, however, the oldest franchise in professional baseball, so that is something. My philosophy is: “Even bad baseball is better than no baseball at all.” And for the past eight long, frustrating years, the Reds have been putting that theory to the test.
My love affair with the game did hit a rocky patch in 1994 when baseball had one of its infamous “work stoppages” because…as we all know…ball players just don’t make enough money for – well – playing a game, and I stayed away for four and a half years before the 1999 Reds enticed me back. Well, I have lots…and I do mean…lots more to impart on the subject of this grand old game, but will save it for future postings. I had prepared my first slideshow, but still lack the basic knowledge to make the transfer from Photobucket to Blogger. Perhaps another time. Meanwhile, please enjoy the following photos of Johnny Bench and Adam Dunn.
Johnny Bench
Photo courtesy of Google.
Adam Dunn
Photo courtesy of Google.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
A Little "Sumthin" To Make You Smile
Well, today's post was going to be about baseball. You will find that a good many of my postings will revolve around that topic, but – sadly – not tonight. Baseball shall have to wait for a bit. I had saved a humorous email on the topic, but my AOL email refuses to give me access to it, so I shall try, try again another day. Meanwhile, during my search for my baseball anecdote, I happened upon the following "funny" that someone sent me ages ago and thought I would give it a home here. Hope it brings a smile to your lips!
Sorry, don't know the origination of the cartoon, so cannot give proper credit to its creator.
Sorry, don't know the origination of the cartoon, so cannot give proper credit to its creator.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
My Very First "Bobby" Post
The first of many more to come, I promise. I chose this picture because of the “sly boots” grin on my guy's face. This photo is from Law & Order CI, Season 2, and the episode is called “Probability.” I cannot even begin to explain my fascination – all right – obsession with this character, which goes to show you just how pathetic My Big Fat Freakin’ Life truly is. I’m “in love” with a man who doesn’t exist, but – there are worse things in life. Trust me, I know things.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with our handsome hero, allow me to make a proper introduction. His name is Robert Goren, Detective First Grade of the NYPD’s elite Major Case Squad. In this scene, he has just coerced – through very clever questioning – a suspect into divulging information she didn’t even know she had concerning a series of murders they are investigating. The result? Well, as you can plainly see, our wily gumshoe is so pleased with himself that he has to covertly share his joy with his partner, without alerting the unsuspecting suspect of her faux pas. (Hmmm...The Unsuspecting Suspect...sounds like the title of a book, but I digress.)
Oh, yes. He's a cunning officer of the law, is our Detective Bobby. You just wait and see, I'll win you over to my side before long.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with our handsome hero, allow me to make a proper introduction. His name is Robert Goren, Detective First Grade of the NYPD’s elite Major Case Squad. In this scene, he has just coerced – through very clever questioning – a suspect into divulging information she didn’t even know she had concerning a series of murders they are investigating. The result? Well, as you can plainly see, our wily gumshoe is so pleased with himself that he has to covertly share his joy with his partner, without alerting the unsuspecting suspect of her faux pas. (Hmmm...The Unsuspecting Suspect...sounds like the title of a book, but I digress.)
Oh, yes. He's a cunning officer of the law, is our Detective Bobby. You just wait and see, I'll win you over to my side before long.
With thanks to Val for the photo.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
My Very First "Blog"
Not sure how good I'll be at this "blogging thing," but I have visited a few sites in recent weeks -- mostly those that pay homage to the distinguished and gifted actor -- Vincent D'Onofrio. As a result, I have been bitten by the writing bug for the first time in a long, long while.
You don't know me, but I have been told that I have a way with words, a somewhat unique...if not downright quirky...perspective on life and the things around me. That remains to be seen. If nothing else, this shall provide me an outlet -- a place to recount my experiences of the day, memories of the past, and hopes for the future. It shall be a sanctuary, a place where I can retreat at the end of a long day to kick back and share my thoughts with those who care to listen, or a venue where I can vent my frustration de jour... whether it be with work, people, current events, or just plain ol' life in general.
And from time to time, folks, because -- alas -- I cannot help myself, I shall devote a good deal of time to the discussion and abject adulation of the fictional TV character: Detective Robert O. Goren. Why, you may ask. To which, I can only reply...if you have to ask...you're in the wrong place. But stick around, we'll share some laughs, some opinions, and hopefully come out all the better for having visited this place.
You don't know me, but I have been told that I have a way with words, a somewhat unique...if not downright quirky...perspective on life and the things around me. That remains to be seen. If nothing else, this shall provide me an outlet -- a place to recount my experiences of the day, memories of the past, and hopes for the future. It shall be a sanctuary, a place where I can retreat at the end of a long day to kick back and share my thoughts with those who care to listen, or a venue where I can vent my frustration de jour... whether it be with work, people, current events, or just plain ol' life in general.
And from time to time, folks, because -- alas -- I cannot help myself, I shall devote a good deal of time to the discussion and abject adulation of the fictional TV character: Detective Robert O. Goren. Why, you may ask. To which, I can only reply...if you have to ask...you're in the wrong place. But stick around, we'll share some laughs, some opinions, and hopefully come out all the better for having visited this place.
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