monzyummylunch

Noise! We Can't Stand Noise!

The editors are unable to compose anything witty because of the saxophone player outside MYL headquarters (loud enough to hear every poorly played note, even though we're twenty stories up). Which is a shame, because Monz' lunch is kinda inspiared: stuffed grapeleaves, hummus, small pita, apple, premium cottage cheese.

You're Looking Like You Like What You See!

Because Monz does not stiffle opinions, even those diametrically opposite of his own, and because today's lunch was a relatively unexciting footlong turkey sandwich from Subway on hearty Italian, we hereby publish the following e-mail sent from a group calling itself We Will Rise Up!

>>Once it was Mick Jagger. Then it was George Michael. Today our children are under assault by a new soldier in Satan's service: Beyonce. Called "unstoppable" by New York Times music critic Kaleaf Sennah, her new single "Check on It" is masterful in its insidious appeal. We say this becaues the "it" referred to in the song changes gender-meanings. Our Code of Wholesomeness prevents us from citing specific lyrics, but if you listen carefully, while the "it" usually refers to Beyonce's "it," in the chorus "it" switches back and forth between Beyonce and the paramour (apparently a man who goes by the name "Slim Thug," though it's possible that the producers didn't know his name and this is just a description). What is the purpose of this? Sloppy lyricism? Playful banter? No! It is designed to burrow into the teenage subconcious, aided and abetted by you know what, to utterly confuse our children and turn them into ho-mo-sex-u-als! In the past we said "burn the CD's!" Now Satan has turned even that term to his advantage! We must burn those I-tunes gift cards, take black markers to the shinny disks, and save ourselves. Turn, or burn! <<

Twelve (or so) Angry Editors!

The debate was heated, impassioned, and no less intense for the civility.

"Heh. Heh. Heh....er, just kidding."
"But in the wrong hands..."
"Isn't the Monz all about empowerment?"
"Monz' fans are righteous!"
"Think of the children!"

In the end the empowerment angle won out. Just be careful out there, and know that the Monz cares. And that he had a chicken caesar wrap from the CSC. "Pretty good."

No, No, No...and No!

Not pears, not grapefruit, not grapefruit (e-mailed), and not cherries. Good guesses though! And not tomato, which is a fruit and played a part in Monz' lunch: "County St Cafe for a smoked turkey salsa sandwich. I haven't started eating it yet because it is not 12, but this thing is huge." (we later learned it was mmm-mmm good, and that Monz ate the whole thing).

Lunch Is but a Dream!

No, the editors have not forgotten the "Yummify the Monz' Lunch" contest (there's been problems with the actuary), but in the meantime: today the food editor was presented with a gift certificate for a resturant which, while there is no general dislike for the place, he himself will never go to. Thus, he has graciously offered it to the first person to e-mail or leave in the comments the fruit which we believe Monz needs to eat more of. All the ytml rules that are applicable...er, apply. Here's a hint, it's not to be found in today's lunch of "a foot-long turkey on wheat, with swiss cheese and hot pepp's."

Meanwhile, while the editors have been busy preparing their my spacepage, their thoughts drift back to a time when Monz was part of a sharp musical outfit, not coincidentally known as the Smiling Rock Monz Jazz Trio. We think, no, demand that these recordings, which were secretly and greedily horded, traded, and sold (one rumour is that, back in the pre-internet day, certain Trio cd's were going for $1000) amongst rabid collectors. The time has come: join us in urging the Monz treat the best of these songs like a boat, and row, row, row his boat gently down the stream!

One Down, Nineteen to Go!

Some attorneys, like the legal editor, freak out about mandatory CLE. They have nightmares about having their license pulled because they didn't get their 20 hour requirement (eventually to rise to 30 hour) finished by the two year deadline, waking up in a cold sweat. Such lawyers also have day dreams about attending their local bar committee meeting, engaging in some casual talk about the cafeteria lunch de jour with the attorney sitting next to them, discovering that this attorney is a partner at a mega law firm who has some extra work he'd love to throw their way, exchanging business cards and ultimately becomming the hero of their office. So, with committee meetings qualifying for an hour of MCLE credit, the LE headed out to the bar association headquarters. No big wigs, but the presentation was painless, the credit nifty-ly recorded by a single swipe of the bar membership card, and lunch was a tasty affair: mini turkey and swiss sandwich, a couple slices roast turkey, rice cooked in some sort of broth, and some roasted green beans.

Monz was too busy defending Keifer and Company to report lunch before we went to press.

Tick-tock! Tick-tock! Tick-tock!

Unlike the Monz and most of the rest of tvland, we are not feeling the new season of 24. It's the same old 24: supersoph terrorist cells, moles, surly teens, surly coworkers. Here's what we would have done this season: Jack is involved with a woman whose daughter is a biomed student at University of Texas. The daughter has hooked up with some Laotian students who are planning to launch a terrorist attack to make it look like the Laotian government has struck Houston. Why? Because they're angry that the Astros lost to the WORLD CHAMPION CHICAGO WHITE SOX!!! and, more importantly, want the U.S. to invade so they can rebuild their impoverished nation. Jack stumbled onto the plan, but can't turn to anyone for help because he's supposed to be dead. He tries to go it alone, but the more he learns and the angrier he gets at his situation, he decides to join the rebels. Somehow Chloe stumbles onto the plot, but she can't tell anyone because she was in on the "Jack is Dead" thing. Nontheless, she enlsits Tubs from the next phone over to help her. The three of them face off in the final hour. Cool.

We're not feeling Monz' lunch today either, though his report was very Jack Bauer-esque: "Lunch today will be abbreviated -- I will at some point, most likely in my car, be dining on two shrimp spring rolls from Whole Foods as I drive to a mysterious rendesvous where I will be working on hard Monz v 4.5. No, its not the health club again, though I will be doing that afterwards."

This One Is for the Ladies!

The media editor was watching Four Kings last night, and was utterly shocked by what he saw. For those who haven't seen the show, the show features four twenty-something laddy roomates engaging in laddy-like behavior: belching and soft-porning their way through their Manhattan bachelorhood. Or should we say alleged laddy-like behavior! Last night's episode centered around a game called "Chesting" where a guy sneaks up on his target, rapidly punches the target hard in the chest, and shouts "Chest!"

Ladies, real men do not do this. Real men, like the Monz (along with his running mate Feez), did not sneak up on targets and then shout triumphantly after a vulgar display of physical power. No, Monz and Feez would shout "Wound!" before approaching the target, giving fair warning so that a manly joust could ensue. And usually the physical damage was done to school gym uniforms.

Today Monz wounded three chicken tacos from the re-christened "Poppy's Genessee Street Cafe" (eh, ok).

Argo-naut!

Always surprising us with something new, Monz introduces a novel concept to the blog (and his lunches since 2003): tea. Sorta:

Today I am prepping for my 2:00 prove-up with a gourmet turkey sandwich from Argo Tea. The bread is mushy soft -- not wet so its cool. The sandwich actually was made by Corky's Catering and sold by Argo. Either way, it's different and yummy.

Now if you want yummy tea, take a tip from the tea editor and order here. And if you really, really want different and yummy, try this tea. The first sip will make you say "what the #?!#$ is that?!" But you'll be compelled to take a second sip. "Wow, I've never tasted any tea like that before." Your overflowing taste buds and sense of curiosity will lead to a fourth sip. Next thing you know, you're blogging about it!

The Skillz that Pay the Billz!

The case would have given pause to even the most seasoned divorce attorney. An established business. Fancy home. Four kids, one special needs, requiring an exemption from the rock-solid statutory support guidelines. Who was up to the challenge? The Monz, who else?! Skillfully navigating the minefield that was the elements necessary to prevail, hitting points during witness examination that even the judge had forgotten (or vice-versa...), Monz slammed-dunked this case. After such a performance, do you think he wouldn't rise to the challenge at Subway(tm)? Ha! Footlong turkey sub on wheat.

Silent Lunch of the Rising Sun!

We would have titled this post "Oh Monz Darling Clementine" to honor the oranges Monz had with his special combo lunch. Combo because it was half from home (carrots, apples and the aforementioned clementines), half sweet chile chicken sandwich from the CSC. But we couldn't after reading this stunning article about a Japanese phenomena of young men locking themselves in their rooms and never coming out, except maybe a secret midnight run to the Japanese version of 7-11 for "lunch." The travel editor has been to Japan twice and knows what these lunches are like: wedges of rice with a small hole scooped out and replaced with veggies, fish, or the like, all surrounded by seaweed leafs. As tragic as the story is, we here at myl do think that the United States should also have these friends-for-hire to gently coax self-willed shutins out of their rooms. In fact, we are old enough to remember 1-800-two-oh-two-oh-two-oh-two (there was a bouncy jingle that went along with that), which sold something of a similar vibe. The social editor even called once in the wee hours and just lurked in the 8-per-room chat room. It was an amazing community. Most of the callers knew each other. The SE's presence was acknolwedged gently and his "I'm going to lurk a bit since I'm new" plan was warmy accepted. The group kinda commiserated over life's hardships. One was a woman who got pregnant and had a kid far too soon. There was comic relief, as some prankster "lept" into the room, shouted some jibberish and "lept" out, apparently trying to stay one step ahead of the 1-800-202-0202 monitors who might banish him. The SE left the conversation and hung up, feeling an intense combination of melencholy, saddness and hope for themselves and the world. Then 900 lines took over (1-800-202-0202 was ridiculously cheap by 900 number standards).

Comin' At Ya!

A delicious, healing, revitalizing liver sausage on whole grain sandwich, carrots, apple and two (2)!! clementines!

This is Monz filling in again. I apologize in advance . . . as noted earlier in the blog, my wife and I joined a health club and we've been hitting it pretty hard. I am still sore and tired from the weekend, but feeling good overall. I'm gonna go tonight and I imagine I'll be even more sore tomorrow, and then I'll be less sore and life will be good!

He Hated This Quiz!

There's not much on that great wasteland known as tv which moves the Monz, but one show he never misses is Lost. Thus we had to have Monz take the "What Lost Character Are You?" Quiz. Here's the result:


You Are Sawyer. You're a realist, not an idealist.
Sarcasm, wit, and leers run rampant whenever
you are around. Whether it's making a racist
remark or shooting a polar bear, you're sure to
leave a lasting impression on those around you.
Add a cigarette and some beard stubble, and the
formula for redneck charm is complete.


Which Lost Character Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

The editorial staff voted and it turns out we are Kate. Monz voted and his lunch turned out to be a dijon tuna sandwich and side salad (fat free Italian dressing) from the C. St. C.

Oh, and we learned that another tv show is returning that we know will excite the Monz.And that's a fact, Jack!

UDPATE!
"It's not 24! Dr. Who is better! This lettuce is soggy, I'm not eating it!"

Zzzzz!

Ever have one of those days when you just couldn't wake up? When the super-caffeinated Starbucks (tm) drip coffee has all the wallop of a Dixie (tm) cup size serving of Taster's Choice (tm)? Us to! Maybe we should join one of the nicest health clubs in Chicagoland (so nice, the EIC's folks are members!), like Monz and Mrs. Monz did last night, boxing the health-club-membership-interrogation-room-trauma into a happy, life enhancing/extending powermove! Even more epiphanies, Monsieur travels to the Waukegan for lunch at...hmm, Subway? Monz has a footlong turkey sandwich on Hearty Italian bread (Subway has regular and hearty Italian), with hot peppers and water. We don't know what Monsieur had. Why Obies was bypassed we don't know.

Two Questions for the Monz!

Monz plans to have a footlong turkey on whole wheat sub, no mayo, no onions. It's from Subway so, you know, you know!

Continuing the lonstanding tradition here at MYL of deconstructing tv commercials, the media editor turns his attention to "Cheerioke" -- a spot for Yogurt Burst Cheerios featuring a number of "real folk" singing into a spoon (or is it a spoon-shaped microphone) the opening lines to Herman Hermit's "I'm Into Something Good." Then an anouncer comes on to introduce the product, as the "real folk" continue to shimmy and shake (as do the two flavors of Yogurt Coated Cheerioes). Then it's back to the "real folk" for a bit more singing.

Cloying, cringe-inducingly cute, yes. But look closely. Notice who the "star" of the spot is: an energetic, wholesome young pixie Notice that far more time is given to the women "real folk" then the men. Notice the design and color choices for the box. More insidiously, notice that the sole person of color is a relatively slight looking African-sounding man. Previously the Media Editor has discussed how advertisers prefer African-American women over African-American men when needing a token person-of-color. He's also been told of a similar phenomena concerning African versus African-American men. Are the editors so cynical as to believe this plays into the Cheerioke spot? That's what the archives are for! But even if you disregard that, we suspect that the target market for this product isn't midwestern men. So we decided to do a little market research. Our first question for Monz was whether he had tried or expected to try this product? Yes, he's tried, his wife brought some home.

Our second question, which we await Monz' answer in the comments: how much would we have to pay to get you to generate a Virtual Monz cheerioke singing icons (with your own voice, not one of the dogs)?

When Torn, Look to the Monz!

The political editor was torn when he discovered a web site last year (through an article in the New York Times, no less) which let people search individuals (or entire zip codes) and see if they had made contributions to candidates in the 2004 federal elections (President, Congressfolk, parties, certain PAC's). On one hand he strongly believes these things should be private, and making them oh-so snoopable will discourage participation in our great political discourse. On the other hand, it was great snooping fun, especially when he found a law school classmate working at a big Chicago law firm who maxed out contributions to both George W. Bush and John Kerry! (His wife did the same). Today the political editor found a similar site, but this one goes back longer! And it highlights celebrities: who knew that Jami Gertz was such a giver (over thirty times as much as, say, Billy Bob Thornton, who donated to Clinton and some local screen actors guild PAC or some such thing). But isn't this too much? Should we reveal it on the blog, or hord it to ourselves? Torn, we looked to the Monz' lunch report for guidance:

"Delicious ditto lunch, at home after court. Then I drove up to Wauk."

Our lips are sealed like a Florida ballot!

The Evil That Men Do!

The literary editor was struck by today's Neil Steinberg column in the Sun-Times(scroll down to "A Stitch in Time"). In it, while paying a deserved compliment to their former architecture critic Lee Bey, he notes that Bey has coined a saying destined to become a cliche. Requesting his friend Steinberg to proofread his new book, Bey left the note "read it like you hate me." This invoked fond memories of the literary editor and the Monz working through the night (a couple hours - truth editor) at a smoke-filled big city coffeehouse (smoke free Starbucks in the burbs), running on caffeine and fumes (decaf and a pastry) while editing ("Dude, read this aloud." [some reading] "ok, I'll fix this.") a brilliant literary analysis (this much is true) while facing a fast approaching deadline (what deadline?). But those days are gone, kinda like the delicious liver sausage on whole grain sandwich, apple and cottage cheese that was Monz' lunch.

But That's Not What You're Going to Pay!




Today Monz had a quick greek chicken sandwich from County STREET Cafe (they've started adding "street" on all their stuff) and then went to a very important meeting (for which the Monz gave more info but has been edited to protect his interests - censorship editor). "The sandwich was yummy -- actual slices of chicken breast, no cold-cut processed crap here! With some feta cheese and olives. No sides or nothin'."

The editors were checking out late night infomercials again (the executive planning meeting was running late), and were startled to find Infomersh veteran Tony Little urging us to buy a "therapy pillow." Forget that "try it for 30-days" crap, Tony exhorted us, "I'll refund your money if you don't have a great night's sleep the very first night!" "The very first night?!" exclaimed the female cohost of the mersh. "The very first night!!!" confirmed our hero. After Tony pummelled us with all the ways this pillow would revolutionize our lives, we were ready to buy! Really -- the editors still sleep on their Sobakawa's, the long lost "rice husks" pillow that would not only support your head and keep you cool, but would make crunchy noises until it was broken in! The editors had tried to purchase replacements, only to find nothing but pale imitators. So we waited, ready to pounce for our credit cards and wallets, sure that Tony was going to cut us a great deal. Three easy payments of $29.99, plus s/h. Our hearts sank. Tony understood, for he interrupted anouncer dude and said those magic mershial words: "BUT WAIT!" We weren't going to pay that much! Tony would lop off a whole payment, throw in a special 1/2 spandex, 1/2 some-cloth-we-forget slipcover, and throw in another pillow almost for free (s/h only). Hmmm, well, we'd have to sleep on it (get it, sleep on it?!) Then, while at Walgreens pharmacy the next morning, the music editor spotted the same pillow on sale for $49.99. What's this? Clearence?! $20?! Sweet dreams are made of this! (somebody stop us, we're on fire!) We will report on the efficacy Monday, or maybe not, because Tony wouldn't let us down!

Mouth Agrape!

Monz hunkers down with a homemade corned beef sandwich on whole grain bread, carrots, cottage cheese, and a Diet Rite (tm) white grape soda. We'll soon be anouncing the Yummify-the-Monz'-Lunch contest winner, in the meantime we salute the individuality, strength, and devotion to spice of the Monz with the following factoid:

There is only one rock that can be eaten by humans: salt!

World Gym Chicago !

We interrupt this blog to reprint the following e-mail sent this afternoon to World Gym

"Today I witnessed two World Gym employees (they were wearing t-shirts with STAFF on the back) trap a young woman in a revolving door at 100 N. Wacker. They kept the door stopped with their forearms ten seconds before letting her pass, smirking at her. She looked very frightened. I hate bullies. I went downstairs to the gym to report it and was told that one of the two men was the club manager! (The woman at the desk kept asking me how I could know for sure that they didn't know the woman -- her expression was pretty convincing).

They came back as I was leaving and I told them I thought what they did sucked. One of them who went by the name "Aaron" (don't know if he was the manager or not) walked up to me so that he was inches away from my face and told me that I better watch what I say. I asked if he was going to hit me and he smiled and said no, but didn't move away. I asked if he felt proud of himself terrorizing women half his size (I equal him in height but clearly not in muscle - he could snap me like a twig) and to watch my tone of voice. I told him I could say anything I wanted that's truthful and at this point the other man said "come on, let's go." I told him that I was going to tell the security people about this(which I did), he continued to stand there but then listened to the other man who again told him to go (he told me to get a haircut, which under other circumstances would have been good advice). He came back when he saw me getting down his description and that's when I heard his name was Aaron. He also looked at his watch, as-if he was saying "I know when to look out for you."

At no time did either man deny it.

Beyond telling security (which may not do much good -- they're renters in the building, I'm just a customer at the resturant downstairs) I also plan to blog this incident because our blog is picked up by Google and MSN and anyone searching for World Gym might come across this incident and consider if this is the kind of place they want to patronize."

Readers may be wondering why the EIC has such a death wish. Welp, it's a combination of the hope that once tattled on, these two neanderthalls don't do this again (with a fear that what these type of men really do is go home and beat up their significant others), a warped sense of justice, and that the only big loss will be that Monz will have to blog his own lunch, which today was a chipolte ham sandwich from the County Cafe!

And to think before this the only thing we knew about World Gym is that they hired a scrawny dude to dress in a gorilla suit and hand out fliers.

Back and Black!

2006 starts on a weird vibe, as Monz wants to know just how evil are you? And just to prove that evil is the vibe, he leaves a taunting, teasing, and non-telling voice mail which refuses to divulge lunch! As for the editors...


How evil are you?

Update!
"And I did have an interesting lunch today too. I wasn't this evil, dude. Anyway, my lunch today was an organic free range turkey meatball sandwich with a side of carrots."

I told you that I'm crazy for those cupcakes, Cousin!

Today, after shopping for some furniture on this supposed "holiday," we stopped in at the Red Star Tavern for lunch. I had a french dip, sans cheese and onions. I don't understand this at all. French dip is NOT supposed to have cheese and onions on it. But I find it that way at a lot of restaurants. Well, the bottom line is, even without cheese and onions, the 5th Ave. Grill has this lunch beat.