Benj be fipin'

Heya! Heyo! Heyu?

Yes--hey you! Been missing us? Aw, yeah, that's what we thought, kids. Well, miss no more, 'cause DDB B BAC, k? (LOL.)

Srsly, though: Make no bones, blood, cartilage, muscles, hormones, lymph, enzymes, nerves, no major systemic organs about it--DDB is primed for action, reaction, malfaction, and redaction, baby. Especially that last one. I mean, "to put into suitable literary form"??? Quite frankly, I was more than half-spectin' a reference to yours truly on that page. Psst, hey. Hey Random House, think you forgot something. Yeah, that's right--#3. Here, allow me--

redact
3. DDB.

Ahaha!! Ahem, wanna hear another funny? But not like a "it's funny because it's true" as in the aformentioned, but rather, a "this is so far from reality it's got me ROFLing to the point of ralphing! (LOL.) Ready? Okay--

redact
4. FIPS.

Ahahahaha!! (Get it? Don't worry--you will soon 'nuff.)

Srsly, though, back to bones. Bones of the stripped-down, stark-white variety, that is--no cartiligenous hangers-on here! (LOL.) What gobbeldygook DDB be spewin' now, you ask? Gather 'round, my sweet pups--you're about to find out.

You see, once upon a time, there was a stale and hardened crust of a man known by those of supreme acumen and spit-polished character--there being, to my modest knowledge, two individuals accordingly endowed--as Benjifips. Old Benjifips lived in a cold, cold world, a world so insular and so dank that he couldn't help but turn out the same, vomiting refracted bits of his depraved existence onto those in the generally and sadly underperforming business of soft-blue kindness and blushing warmth. Now, of all the fine weaponry at his ready disposal--the loaded Sparks cans, blunted syringes, polluted canal waters--Benjifips vastly preferred the subtle springload of the written word. And whip it out often and showily he did, my friends.* What's that, Bobby? You'd like an example? Well, that's funny--I was but a second away from supplying one. Eyes on the screen, lovies--here 'tis:

http://deliciousdishbrooklyn.blogspot.com/2009/03/is-for-absent.html#comments

Now, be not fooled by the flat and unimaginative moniker, "ngv1975," for this is he, my dears! Benj-incognifips! And the above-referenced comment in the wake of an utterly delightful "my home is your home" electronic message squeezed from the juiciest and lovingest of hearts (ahem, ours). I mean, really!

Oh, and did I mention this gleaming nugget of niceness? Granted, it followed this here,** but who be DDB to sit back and allow its freshly laundered (in holy water, LOL!), just pressed (between angel wings, LOL!!) image to get beat down, punched in, shit-smirched, and dragged Bfips-style through the foulest and muckiest of muds?!?

Because he started it! Oh, uh, kids? Don't expect that argument to fly, generally speaking and probably ever, really, in your case. But trust us, this is one instance, perhaps the only instance--the singular, el primo episode, if you will (will you? LOL)--requiring said recourse.

After all, we were only trying to help. Only trying to extend ourselves in peace and lovingkindness and blogospheric camaraderie.

And you know what? We'll keep on stendin'. Hecka, we'll go so far as to take it one step further (which isn't all that far I guess! although, come to think, DDB be striding long per indivij, LOL). Howso, you ask? By payin' homage. And in a FIPScentric universe, this involves a single predominant trait: brevity.

In such manner, I bring you the following: a shipshape, minimalist account cleaner than a CPO's dress whites (LOL!) of a recent dining experience I had at Fourth Avenue's Tomato & Basil.

~Bon Appetit!~






The End.

(LOL!!!)


*To Be Continued?? Why, only Sir Benjifips has the answer to that.
**Hence "bones."

Sloppy Seconds!

Let it never be said that DDB doesn't stick out the good ol' proverbial and literal neck from time to time for its loyal readership! Sure, we could have been shalacked into hallucinations of pastel polka dots by the bamboo stalks of jPan and returned missing a mental l*tt*r or two or had our astroblogospherical debut cut short due to being served inside a chicken parmesan sammich, but nothing has yet compared to the trepidation upon approaching our next target: Second Helpings, the unassuming if beyellowed-awninged exercise in institution-alarm-sounding finger-painting on the corner of 7th ave and 9th st!!!

Maybe it was the suspicion that the clout (and unavoidable preferential treatment) that DDB now garners (alas and alack for the early and innocent DDB days!) through the trademark batting glove accoutrement would be lost within a clientele delta (a clien-delta! LOL) fed directly by some bike-messenger tributary; or maybe it was the sunglass'd patron glaring out at DDB through the front window (as menacing as one can be while seated behind a mesh-basin of oversized Legos and fingering idly his "spot me from space" Folio edition); or maybe it was the cavalcade of angry, trash-wielding minions that streamed out of the front door and into the street? (no coincidence that that trap door is open!!) Suffice it to say, DDB went into semi-covert stealth-ish mode, pocketing the glove and affecting an air of bemused casualness as it whipped out the cell phone and concomitant camera. Oh what a funny text message I'm reading outside of your establishment... my mother is just incorrigible... CLICK!  

After maneuvering Frogger-like past the mobile trash bags and ducking the daggers being cast in ol' DDB's direction, entrance was made and primary (if "ultimate" remained unclear and worrisome) mission accomplished. And yet the enemy is clever and his methods multi- and nef-arious (nervous LOL!!!) for against the font-etically inclined, nothing could have been more radiantly overwhelming. There were chalkboards with every conceivable type of script, color and emphasis; pieces of information laminated, underlined, scribbled, taped onto tip jars, doubly-underlined, painted onto loose tiles, penned onto preexistent worded surfaces, pasted onto glass, stuck unceremoniously into the food itself, hanging from the ceiling... I was half-'specting the daily specials to be scrawled in ink on the waiter's forearm!!!

Standing transfixed, but with enough awareness to notice that the consumers were just as varied, as if each compelled by a different style - say the all-caps, bold, Garamond-looking MUFFINS for the real estate brokers, and other epilepsy-friendly adverts for the mothers with child, the stray Williamsburgers after a reluctant walk through the park, the jogger holding one hand to get her pulse, the other to cradle her cucumber juice, the posse of painters on break, the aging ex-expat couple, the pug-adorned, the ruthless if now inconspicuous culinary skewer-er (DDB! what what!), the beautiful people, the highly conspicuous francophile with a copy of L'Etranger draped over his arm... 

And yet, out of this (j)pandemonium of information rose the impression that the food didn't look or sound all that bad! Maybe DDB had just been standing there long enough for the editorial appetite to double, who knows, but them there Macaroni & Cheese and Wild Rice looks pretty good! Sure, you have to ignore the fact that the large placard that declaims things like "Organic Swiss Chard w/ Cashew, Mint Dressing (Raw, Vegan, Gluten Free)" is plopped onto the serving bowl AND that you're thinking what to say when you're served your food on an unwashed frisbee AND that you have to bite your tongue and not ask about the Second Helpings catch phrase "Food with a conscience" (what, was "conscientious food" or "food with consciousness?" taken!? LOL!!!) because the lady handling your money is stonewalling you like nobody's business after an already tentative foray into conversation, BUT all that's forgiven and you're free to enjoy what are some truly tasty and delicious and interesting ~and, again,~ tasty treats. 

Of course, as soon as you sit down you find yourself either remembering the sign "your aim is greatly appreciated" from the bathroom OR that you once were tricked in college into eating a meal cooked by your co-op living friend OR looking squarely at the adverts / services-rendered board which boasts such appetite-challenging items as soul ecology, jamsberry will teach you guitar, herbal alchemy apothecary, naked yoga for men, revitalizing superfoods for superenergy, naturopathic doctor, BodyLoveTM by Maat: "love is action, it works if you work it!" (DDB couldn't have said it better itself, Maat!), and perhaps the one which still causes something on the order of seeing yer conversation partner's eyes dart nervously right above your head, "holistic dentistry." 

But focus! close those eyes, forget that you counted the word "organic" 43 times on your way from bathroom to table or that people actually eat something called "spelt" (I sure hope I SPELT it right!!! LOL.) and concentrate on the deliciousness of the food offered... did the waitress offer me a free sample by digging her fingers into to Organic Chick Peas with Apples and Oranges Vinaigrette...? HEY! Focus. This is some good timey eatin'... which explains why DDB had to go back a few times to confirm and reconfirm the tastiness, to get the Third and Forth Helpings, as it were! 

So whadrya waiting fo'? Get thee to some Cucumber Juice, post haste!