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The Life and Times of a Filipino-American

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Archives for May 2016

May 22, 2016 By Phillip Retuta

Live Studio Audience.

SNL_HeroA week before Saturday Night Live’s season finale with Fred Armisen, I received a random email stating that I won two free tickets to the live taping. I can’t recall ever entering NBC’s lottery except perhaps several months ago, so it came to me as a complete surprise. I texted my core group of friends to accompany me with my extra ticket, and Monica was the first to respond literally 2 seconds later.

SNL_Monica

Monica and I arrived at 30 Rockefeller Center just before 10pm and lined up along the mezzanine area. Large LED screens covered the walls and displayed guests and featured players from SNL’s long history, and judging from the screens’ weirdly curved edges and varying shapes and sizes, I can only imagine how fucking expensive these monitors cost. The line moved fairly quickly, and Monica and I were next to get these black wristbands to gain access to the studio. Suddenly, a production assistant stopped us and said, “No, give them the purple bands…”

We went through the atypical routine of showing IDs and going through a metal detector, just like you would in airport. Guided by a cheerful PA, Monica and I sat in a separate waiting area with other purple-wristbanded people — all of whom were young, fashionable, and attractive, and some of whom were distinguishable minorities (thank god I’m a young, fashionable, but not necessarily attractive Filipino-American). There was no cellular service in the waiting area, and photography was of course strictly prohibited. About an hour before the show, our group was led into an elevator and into the hallway of Studio 8H.

The exterior of the actual studio was very reminiscent of what I’ve seen in “30 Rock”: props and sets sat all over the place, and PAs and crew members scurried back and forth. Even the NBC pages were delightful chipper and talkative, so the parody of Kenneth is entirely accurate. The only noticeable difference was that it was dark as opposed to “30 Rock’s” bright, open hallways; it felt like I was at the Elks’ Lodge or some old-school steakhouse. We waited in line for about 20 minutes, until we were lead to our seats… the very front of the stage. I was surprised that we were seated so close, but then again — with those coveted purple wristbands — I think Monica and I were chosen for both our good looks and diversity. As bashful as I am, I knew we were going to be on live TV.

So here are some things I’ve noticed about SNL:

  • It’s a mad rush between sketches and commercial breaks. Stage hands and camera crew are running around carrying both equipment and sets, piece-by-piece. It’s a shock that no one has gotten hurt.
  • Studio 8H is cold; the A/C is on full, but that’s probably to be expected since I’d get hot and nervous if I was acting on live TV.
  • The studio is also pretty small: there are three or four main areas where they do sketches and musical performances, but everything is so enclosed. I guess TV does make everything appear bigger.
  • Everything is funnier when you see it in person.

That’s it, and here’s me and Monica in the opening monologue:

Filed Under: Friends, New York City

May 20, 2016 By Phillip Retuta

Mexico City: Pujol.

MenuFor Monica’s birthday, we all ate at Enrique Olvera’s Pujol — a highly-renowned restaurant along the same worldly acclaim as D.O.M. Restaurante. The meal was a tad more expensive than what we ate in São Paulo, but I have to admit that I loved this food more: the sheer flavors were good as opposed to eclectically interesting. Anyway, here’s a rundown of what we had (the corn with ant mayo was my favorite):

Course 1.

Pujol_BocolHuastecoBocol Huasteco: corn dough with cheese.

Pujol_AsparagusChileatoleAsparagus Chileatole with Mulato Chile Chicharrón.

Pujol_ChiaTostadaChía Tostada with Guacamole.

Pujol_BabyCornPowderedChicatanaAntSmoked Baby Corn in a Powdered Chicatana Ant, Coffee, and Costeño Chile Mayo.

Pujol_CrudoSeafood Crudo.

Course 2.

Pujol_CuitlacocheAndSweetBreadsCuitlacoche with Chicken Liver and Sweatbreads.

Course 3.

Pujol_SucklingLambTacoSuckling Lamb Taco with Avocado Leaf Adobo and Avocado Puree.

Course 4.

Pujol_ChickenWithOnionAshChicken with Chile Adobo, Nopal, Romeritos, Black Radish, Bean, and Onion Ash.

Course 5.

Pujol_MoleMadreMoleNuevoTortillas (including Root Beer Leaf Tortilla) with Mole Madre (Aged 3-years) and Mole Nuevo.

Course 6.

Pujol_DessertChurro Pujol_Dessert2 Pujol_DessertDessert, including cactus sorbet and churros.

WineGlass MonicaAndSam

Filed Under: Food, Friends, Travel

May 19, 2016 By Phillip Retuta

Mexico City 2016.

IMG_2094I went to Mexico City last weekend. My most sarcastic and driest Chicago friend Mike wanted to celebrate his girlfriend Monica’s 30th birthday, so he decided to extend an open invitation to a group of friends for a long weekend in Mexico.

I arrived in Mexico City shortly after noon on Friday. A few of my friends had already spent the morning at Six Flags Mexico, so I had an hour or so to wander around the Condesa neighborhood where we would be staying at. I found a quaint coffee shop called Paradigma just a few blocks from the Airbnb, and surprisingly — in lieu of my ignorant perception that most foreign countries only serve hot coffee — the cafe had cold brew and was run by a young Latina girl with umbrae highlights. She played an odd combination of both old Eminem songs and Blondie, alternating between angry white boy rap and 70’s glam punk.

IMG_2026

What struck me first about Mexico is the currency: at first, I thought $35.00 for an iced coffee or $14.00 for a single taco (both in Mexican Pesos) was too fucking high, until I realized that a single Peso is worth as much as a US nickel. The conversion rate threw me off throughout the trip, and I worried about my bank account when the restaurant bills came over $2000.00 in Pesos. Still, for only withdrawing $100.00 USD (which amounted to $1600.00 MXP), I was able to have fun, drink a lot, and eat incredibly well for nearly 4 days.

The Airbnb that Mike and Monica reserved was quite beautiful: it had a distinct Spanish style and was only a couple of blocks from the busting heart of Condesa. I had my own full bed, access to a private patio from my room, and an attached bathroom. Nonetheless, for two days, our water would fucking run out. Someone would be showering or taking a dump, and all of a sudden the water would cease running or the toilet wouldn’t flush (and believe me, after eating considerable amounts of Mexican food at every meal, functioning toilets between a group of 7 people is important). We’d wait for hours waiting for the plumbers to refill the tank, and my sympathy went out to one of our friends who was unable to shower for two days — just because of unforeseen and unfortunate timing.

IMG_2046

Speaking of food, Mexico’s dining experience encompasses everything I love about eating: cheese and meat and more cheese and spicyness. I couldn’t find fault with anything I ate, aside from the consistent trips to the bathroom (which was only exasperated by the lack of water and ultimately toilet paper). Still, Mexican cuisine has to be some of my favorite type of food, and being in Mexico City was akin to what it must have been like in Ancient Rome — pure decadence and non-stop self-gratification. Sad to say, though, a few of us in our group of 7 suffered indigestion throughout the entire trip, and one of my friends managed to get a severe form of E.Coli. Not me, however; despite having to poop more frequently than I like, I think that all the shit that I put in my body on a regular basis has toughened my immunity and strengthened my stomach into steel.

IMG_2190

At night, I attempted to live and drink like a sorority girl with an endless budget from daddy. I’m old now, though, and clearly a dude, so my intention to get drunk was only impeded by lack of mental will power and being too tired all the goddamned time. Still, I’ve grown fond of Mezcal and the tiny, spice-and-salt-rimmed orange slices that accompany each drink. Mexican beer — such as the Hispanic-brand Indio — was okay but way too filling to share space with the awesome food also occupying my stomach. On the second night, Brett and Mike found out about this secret dance party located in the storefront of an otherwise abandoned building. They served buckets of Indio for only 20 pesos till 7am, thus it came as no surprise that the place was packed. I think I even passed by a 12-year-old drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette inside the establishment. It was a shitshow for sure, so Mike, Monica, Brett, and Samantha brought our cheap buckets of beers outside and chatted.

The next day, the five of us — including Clayton and his girlfriend Allison — walked around Bosque de Chapultepec, and hiked up Castillo de Chapultepec, a centuries-old castle on top of a hill. There was a museum inside the castle, containing artifacts spanning throughout Mexico’s lush history. With Castillo de Chapultepec built atop on one of the highest points in the state, we could see all of Mexico City.

After walking down the hill, it started to rain heavily, so the seven us walked to a nearby bar/cafe and drank some cocktails. The storm eventually died down, and Brett, Allison, Clayton, and myself went to Mercado Roma — an upscale food market that is the Mexican equivalent of New York’s own Eataly.

Rejoining Mike, Monica, and Sam back at the house, the seven of us went out in search of one last place to eat dinner. Walking around Condesa at night feels incredibly safe and even more incredibly quiet: the streets were nearly empty of pedestrians, and even during the day vehicular traffic is scarce and courteous (I can count the number of stop sign I’ve seen on a single hand, and incoming cars are polite enough to brake in front of you and let you cross the street). Finding a bright, cheery restaurant that seemed to play Tame Impala on repeat, our group ate dinner and went to what was essentially an American-style whiskey bar that played mashups of Rihanna and Eminem (Mexico City seems to really love that guy).

Afterwards, we walked to an al pastor taqueria called El Tizoncito. Both Clayton and Brett have heard about this place, and the establishment even claimed they invented the al pastor taco. About 5 stations of rotating spits lined the outside of the restaurant, each containing a base of whole, uncut onions, a slab of marinated pork, and an entire pineapple on top. The skilled cooks would then take a large knife and acrobatically cut each ingredient off the spit, toss them in the air, and catch them with a tortilla; it was quite a spectacle, and you can see a portion of it in the video below.

All in all, it was great trip (albeit short) with some really great friends. It marked the first time I’ve been to Mexico, and I assure you that’d I’d definitely go again: the prices — just like Brazil — are affordable, it pays to know even remedial Spanish, and Mexico is so big I’d love to have stayed longer and explore some other places like La Isla De Las Munecas and the Frida Kahlo House. Till then, here are some videos and photos:

Filed Under: Friends, Photography, Travel, Videography

May 4, 2016 By Phillip Retuta

Sorry Mom, I Got A Fox Tattoo.

FoxTattooAs it is with every year around my birthday, I get a new tattoo. This time, I got another fox tattoo at Electric Anvil Tattoo. Not only do I really like these dog-like creatures, but I’ve been told that my spirit animal is a fox. Here’s what I’ve found online:

The symbolic meanings associated with the fox are:

-Physical or mental responsiveness, increased awareness

-Cunning; seeing through deception; call to be discerning

-Ability to find your way around, to be swift in tricky sitations

-Affinity with nocturnal activities and dream work

Whether or not such a generalized description of me is bullshit (I took an internet quiz before, and it said my spirit animal is a stupid butterfly), foxes are fascinating creatures. My other tattoo that contains a fox is from the Aesop Fable of “The Fox and the Crow” (I also like crows):

A Fox once saw a Crow fly off with a piece of cheese in its beak and settle on a branch of a tree.

“That’s for me, as I am a Fox,” said Master Reynard, and he walked up to the foot of the tree.

“Good day, Mistress Crow,” he cried. “How well you are looking today: how glossy your feathers; how bright your eye. I feel sure your voice must surpass that of other birds, just as your figure does; let me hear but one song from you that I may greet you as the Queen of Birds.”

The Crow lifted up her head and began to caw her best, but the moment she opened her mouth the piece of cheese fell to the ground, only to be snapped up by Master Fox.

“That will do,” said he. “That was all I wanted. In exchange for your cheese I will give you a piece of advice for the future: “Do not trust flatterers.”

Filed Under: Art, Design, Ramblings

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Born 1983. Art Director, UX/UI and Digital Designer. Illustrator. Dog Owner. Coffee Enthusiast. Pizza Lover.

I love over-thinking the simplest of things and making stuff at every waking moment: comics, food, videos, photos... you name it. This blog is a record of my work, my exploits, and my philosophical, political, and psychological ideologies. So enjoy reading my dumb ideas and inane rants that I'd otherwise be ashamed to verbally speak out in public.

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