Fabian Ramirez: The Mexican Bobby Flay?

So let me just start by saying (or typing, rather) that I am the greatest cook to ever grace the face of the Milky Way Galaxy. Maybe even the Andromeda Galaxy too, but I think I'll just stick to the Milky Way. I've lived here for like twenty-two years and I've grown rather fond of it. Anywho, lets rewind a bit and we'll get to my culinary prowess later. Day started like usual in good ol Mesquite. Woke up, ate a bowl or two of Frosted Mini Wheats. Yeah, I like to keep it nice and simple. Played with my dog a bit, did the whole "refresh the Facebook page 50 times a minute to see if anyone has posted on my wall", don't act like you've never done it.(If you must know, nope, no Facebook wall posts. Sad face) I kinda promised my mom I'd cook her a legit meal for mother's day, but since we had committed to other engagements, my l33t cooking had to be put on hiatus until today. So I did all my normal stuff and started watching Food Network. Let me just say that the Food Network is my filthy heroin addiction. I can't get enough of that channel. If I had to suck a dude off for money to afford my Food Network habit......well...let's just leave it at I think the channel is amazing. So I'm sitting in my parent's comfy reclining chair, watching Guy's Big Bite. He's making some Cuban style pork-chops with some really tasty lookin' mash potatoes. SOLD. It was like that stupid show "Say Yes to the Dress", only instead of being totally gay and boring, it was manly and it involved food no less! I KNEW this dish was "The One", my mother's taste buds had to have this and nothing less. I proceeded to scribble down the ingredients and cooking procedures in my half human / half primordial beast lookin' handwriting, and headed to my nearest Wal-Mart. I was so excited that I'd actually be cooking. Fun fact about Fabian? He's a pleaser. Pay close attention, ladies. In all seriousness, I love cooking and it's actually been a blue moon since I had cooked last so I was pretty pumped. Not only do I love the ACT of cooking, but more-so the feeling of satisfaction I get knowing that I busted my buns to make a meal and people enjoy it. Praises are always nice too! For future reference, I live off of a strict diet of zero carb Rockstar and attention.

You: "Gee Fabian, your cooking is phenomenal!"

I would then reply with: "MMMM this attention is delicious, nom nom nom!"

In my head, of course. I find everything at Wal-Mart and cruise on back to the casa. I had a few hours to kill before my parents got home and I could actually start cooking, so I decided to go for a jog and do menial exercises around the house. Push-ups, sit-ups, that sort of thing. 6PM rolls by and I knew it was on. I could finally commence the epicness. I'm whipping utensils out I've never even seen before. Things that look like hammers and medieval torture devices. I'm mincing and cutting and slicing and julienning stuff like it's no one's business. I swear for a few minutes my hands were possessed by angels. Angels that knew how to cook food for the Gods. I'm marinating things left and right, sauteing and stirring and mixing and tasting. I felt like I was on Iron Chef. It seemed like a milennia had gone by. I look at the clock...it had been 5 minutes. Holy. Shit. So without delving too much deeper into the mystical art that is cooking (remember, a magician never reveals his secrets, same goes for cooking.), I finish and I have my final product: pork-chops marinated in a bit of OJ, Lime juice, and vinegar. Dry rubbed with a medley of awesome spices and then pan seared with some onions and garlic, and finally deglazed with a bit of white wine. If that wasn't enough, I also made some Sofrito Mashed Potatoes, which included green and red bell peppers, red onion, little bit of white wine and tomato sauce, simmered and reduced, and finally folded with a bit of butter and heavy cream. This sauce, was literally sent from the heavens. I wanted this sauce to have my children. All the meanwhile, I was boiling Yukon Gold potatoes and when they were done, I poured this sauce all over them and mashed. This dish was full of culinary grandiosity the likes of which had never been seen! My mother's clearly outmatched taste buds were clearly outmatched. It was like trying to watch an ant try to lift the Empire State building, while being repeatedly punched in the face by bully ants. Like, this ant is a nerd and not very popular so he gets beat up a lot. His mom asks him how his day went and he's all like "Well, I tried lifting the Empire State building but I couldn't because for one, I'm an ant, and for two, I had other ants punching me in my ant face." And his mom is like "Damn." Clearly outmatched right? Did I also mention that besides being the best cook alive, I'm also the king of awesome examples? If only I could put that on a resume...

Interviewer: "Fabian Ramirez? Hmm. I see here on your resume that you've worked in so and so...and you're also the king of awesome examples, as well as the best cook alive?"

Me: "Oh, you forgot that I'm a snazzy dresser, and that my interests are punching and fighter jets."

Interviewer: "I saw that, thank you. On our application, where it asked you to explain any gaps in employment, you answered with: 'Doing all sorts of ill shit?'"

Me: "Word."

Interviewer: "Congratulations, it would be a privilege, no, an HONOR, to hire you Fabian. You have the job!"

Me: "Rad."

Oh...a man can dream right? Needless to say, my mom and dad thoroughly enjoyed my meal. I only thought of one other person who I could grace with such a meal of champions. Laura. So I jet down to her pad and I hand her my plate of win. Yes, it was literally a plate full of win. If win were a tangible object, it would be anything I cook. Ever. You'll have to ask her if she liked them or not, 'cause I know she wouldn't tell me if they were bad. Lets be honest though, they weren't. Why? Because I'm the man. After she ingested the meal I had prepared with such love and care, we decided that dessert was in order. I suggested Dairy Queen, because after Food Network, my second filthy heroin addiction comes in the form of Reese's Blizzards from the DQ. Can you believe this girl? This gorgeous, nineteen year old American girl, has NEVER had a Blizzard. What? Starving Ugandan's have had Blizzards. We get to DQ and to my dismay, it's closed, so we do the next best thing: get Ben and Jerry's! Head back to her pad and pretty much kill a half a pint in around 5 minutes. I'm watching her do dishes, and I get struck in the face with an epiphany: I can't find a reason to hate Mesquite anymore. When I'm in that kitchen with her, which as of late has been pretty frequently, Mesquite aint so bad at all.

-Fabian

Long Drives on Short Roads.

Why haven't our top scientists invented Auto Pilot for vehicles? I mean, seriously. Have you ever stolen a bottle of alcohol and tried removing the anti theft device? It's insanely difficult. Get the inventors of that to make an auto pilot. Those people seriously need to be finding a cure for cancer or something. It took 8 drunk guys 45 mins of torching (yes, with fire), poking, prying, pulling, and anything else you could imagine to get this thing off. But just imagine the auto pilot for a sec. Pop that shit on and take a nap? Watch a movie? Hell, maybe even play xbox or read! As I write this, I've been cooped up in a vehicle for the past 7 hours with nothing to keep me entertained except my ipod and me talking to myself. You don't get it, I must be insane because I literally had a full 2 hour conversation with myself. About NOTHING....like it was NORMAL. It went a little like this:

Me thinking out loud: "Damn, it's such a great day out today. Why the fuck did I have to be stuck driving?!"

Me responding to the vocalized thought: "Well Fabian, because you have to move to Las Vegas and get your life back on track, duh."

Me responding to the response: "Fuck you."

That. For 2 hours. That's creeper status dude. Like, closet-full-of-skin-sombreros-wearing-a-woman's-bathrobe-while-wearing-tons-of-make-up creepy. On a positive note, I'm finally in Las Vegas again! Hooray! -insert fanfare here-. I must admit, I do get a little misty-eyed thinking about my friends and the amazing summer I could be having up in Reno, you know, where it won't be hotter than the sun this summer. I did a lot of that on the way down here too. Reminiscing. Remembering all those times me and Brady would get ridiculously baked and play Alive by Pearl Jam, watch the History / Discovery channel at 2 am and talking about space / aliens / life for hours, or all of us swapping our tales of drunken revelry. My roommates were both in a frat, Alpha Tau Omega to be exact, so the stories of blackout drunkenness, trading
belt hits, and hooking up with random girls were always fun to hear and very abundant. They would share their stories of having sex with random girls who were rather promiscuous, appropriately dubbed "Tau-Hoes". Like the lake, get it? Clever right? I'm going to miss our fun times bullshitting, making fun of each other for stupid shit we'd done. Like Bobby for sleeping with a black girl(Not racist, just funny. You'd need to know Bobby to think it's funny.) Brady for being a little short. Brett for having sex with a 40 year old lady in the rain. Shit like that, lol. I'm going to miss going down to The Flowing Tide (our frequent bar) and playing pool even though none of us were really that good. I may have only lived in Reno for about 9 months, and known most of my friends for about 6, but I forged a strong bond with all of them. It's insane to me that we all grew pretty close in such a short time. (No homo. Well, maybe. Just kidding.) I recall writing in a previous blog that my life's chapter labeled "Reno" was coming to a close, but I think I will have to formally retract that statement. It's not over, I'm just gonna throw an ellipsis at the end of it. I'll go back, for sure. To be honest, I really just wanted to use the word "ellipsis" in a sentence. So now, as I sit in this parking lot, sipping on my one true vice (Taro flavored Snow Ice, with boba!), trying to steal internet from like 20 different wireless connections, I can truly take everything in for what it is and say that I'm feeling mixed emotions. It's very bittersweet. I guess I'm supposed to learn from this experience and grow as a person, but fuck man, I kinda miss Reno already. I know that as far as job opportunities go, Vegas > Reno. I like free money as much as the next person...I mean, working for the state of Nevada, but I really just want to start working again. Start going to school again. And I know that I'm going to make new friends here, and that the world keeps spinning, but as cool as Vegas is, it doesn't have a river in which drunk people lazily drift on running down its center! So to all you Reno people that may be reading this, I love you and I'm gonna miss you. Have a helluva summer. Grill a chicken breast, drink a Blue Moon, and enjoy life. As for me? It's time to make that money!

-Fabian