"But whenever Monday comes, you can find me crying all of the time" (until the semester is over, and then...wheeee!)

It's a darned good thing I like the Monday night class I teach (Hi all of you!), and the students keep me entertained and happy.* And sometimes bring me Diet Coke.**

I know you're going to email me and say I shouldn't drink this
because I'll grow another head on my shoulders or whatever,
but without the sweet brown poison,
I'd totally fall asleep in front of the class. In front of every class.
No one wants that.

If I didn't like them so much, I'd be all BOO! and DAMMIT! and CRAP! because most of the fun cigar things seem to be happening on Mondays this semester. So Valentino goes to the fun things and sends me texts and pictures, and generally recounts that fantastic fun-ness he's having.

I try to share the fun I'm having too. For realz. He's not, however, buying that my two-and-a-half hours talking about writing and reading is more fun than hanging out with cool cigar folks, eating and drinking, and smoking.  In my defense, and to keep the playing field level, I had malted milk balls with the Diet Coke.

Oh, malted milk balls, why must you be so delicious?
And so small? And come in packages of five?
Do you have any idea how many little packages must be opened
and consumed in order to remain happy during the whole class?***

So during my repetitive sojourns**** over the course of the semester, he's had these adventures, of which I am mucho jealous. In no particular order, other than this is how they popped into my head:*****

Hanging with Island Jim, he of Leaf by Oscar, at Churchill's (Hi Bryan--even though I've technically never met you in person. And do you know why? Yep. Work. Boo. Soon we'll remedy that. I hear you have MBombays? We have been dying to get our hands--and taste buds--on those!)

Honestly, how can you not want to own some of these darlings?
As soon as the man returns from Man Camp, we are so there!

An Eiroa/CLE dinner with the Mr. J's Havana gang (at that seekrit location). Hi Paul! Hi Tom! Hi Mark! Hi Lauren! Hi people who were there and who I should give a shout out to, but since I wasn't there, I don't know who that might be!)

"Are you ready for some football?"
Definitely. Especially if there's delicious food!

Some fun nights at Broadway Cigar for Monday Night Football. (Although he does get credit for bringing me dinner home from those festivities! Thank you!) Each week, the awesomely cool Bobby and the gang (which would actually make them Cool and the Gang) feature a different cigar to accompany that night's noshing.  So it's win-win. I just wish I could have also been a winner. I have to go sulk now.

This is representative of Man Camp.
By the way, have you liked Will the Travelling Owl yet?
You totally should. And you'll be glad you did.

There's another dinner from the fabulous folks at Mr. J's this coming Monday, which, in Valentino's defense, he will also miss because he'll be at Man Camp. (Hi Jerry! Hi Will! Hi Marlin! Hi Billy! Hi Jerry! Hi Tom! Hi Billy! Missing you, Valentino the Elder!) I can't decide whether to be happy (Man Camp!) or sad (not Penny Camp!) at this time of year. Missing festivities doesn't help. I can't even live vicariously. Unlessssss... Unless you go and tell me all about it.  Take pictures! Send me random texts throughout the course of the night! Just call Mr. J's to chat with him about tickets!!

You should get yourself some of this! And you can--and much more! at the Roma dinner!
Call Broadway Cigars for more info!

The following week, on Monday the 8th, a big shindig is happening at Roma on Federal Hill in Providence. The dinner will feature the cigars of J Grotto, good old Mr. J, Paul Joyal, himself! So two of our favorite people are getting together and having a party. Again, you should go; I'm going to need to get to the store before then so I can drown my sorrows in whatever malted milk is.

Then, we found out that on Monday, December 15, Jim Robinson is going to be in town again. Let me stress the Monday in the previous sentence.

Why does everything have to happen on a Monday? And then I remembered...

This is the point in the story where the angels sing with joy.

 ...I remembered school will be over by then! I can join the festivities!! So come to Broadway Cigars in Providence, RI and we can party like rock stars!******

Lots more things are on our calendar for December. Stay tuned for updates!!



*What? that's not supposed to be what's happening?

**It's not really a bribe; more a way to keep me awake and off-kilter.

***In case you were wondering, it takes seventy umpity thousand tiny packages of malted milk balls for one long class.

****And I say this ironically

*****The ideas don't just pop into my head. In fact, it's more like this:

Very painful indeed!

******Aging, tired, end-of-the-semester melt-down rock stars. But rock stars nonetheless.

The Case of the Mashed and Mangled Nub

While off at Man Camp* to play in a golf tournament** a couple weeks ago, Valentino shared cigars with some of the guys, who aren't as stick savvy as he.  One man, who shall remain nameless because I don't recall his name, received a Nub.

"He wanted something that was not very strong, so I gave him a Nub Connecticut wrapper. He lit it up and enjoyed it."  Apparently, the dinner bell sounded*** and the nameless man said, "I'm not going to smoke it all right now."

"I said, 'Okay,' and we went in for parmesan cheese wrapped in prosciutto, homemade spaghetti and tomato sauce, garlic bread, and Caesar salad.

"When we came back out, I said, 'What the fuck happened to this cigar?' The whole end was mangled. It looked like a cartoon gun that had exploded. It had the shape of a blunderbuss."

"I stubbed it out," the man said. And then Valentino's head exploded.

Eva is very, very angry at the man for destroying the Nub. She will make him pay.

One of the things novice cigar smokers don't know (but we all do, of course) is that we don't mash the cigar's foot into the ashtray/railing/dirt/bottom of your boot/whatever. We let them gently go to sleep, burning themselves out, until it's time to awaken them. With fire. Bwah hahahaha. Of course, watching the destruction pains the heart and soul. You might even get out a "Noooooo..." as it happens. But alas...it is no more.

Of course, if you're going to be leaving it for a while, for example if you're going to eat a gourmet dinner in the middle of the woods, then play poker, and then drink one or a hundred tequila shots, you should probably take a couple of steps before returning the abandoned soul to its rightful place--your face. (Unless, of course, a bear has made off with your premium cigar, in which case I say, "Godspeed, Gentle Ben!")

I can't find a photo of a mangled Nub,
so please enjoy this serene picture of the little fella before destruction.

So here's what you should do so you're not sucking in old smoke. Nothing will turn you off cigars more than a big old whiff of gross. (Actually, that can be applied to many things in life. ::shudder::)

1. Pick up the cigar and scrape off all the ash--anything that has been burnt; think of it as anything that looks like charcoal, the black and grey ashes. You may want to use a flat tool, like a pipe tool (although he uses a screwdriver when he's smoking outside. I know, I know. Classy. Sorry girls, he's all mine.)
2. Heat up the foot again and blow through the cigar for five-to-ten seconds to burn off the tars that have built up. Sparks will fly out the end. Don't worry. You're eliminating old gasses and/or resin. That does not sound like anything I'd like to taste.
3. Light it up and enjoy! It may be stronger than when you first started, but that's okay! It's still a great stick!

Except that old cigar taste. Even butter can't fix that.

"I'm not giving him any more cigars," Valentino says, still shuddering at the experience.

I nod and say, "Uh huh," the way supportive partners do.

"But of course I did, because he was my cart partner."

I'd expect nothing less.****



*Doesn't this conjure up images of a rustic setting, maybe the bare-bones of accommodations? Hahahaha. Air conditioning, cable TV, three refrigerators, two stoves, sleeps 16 in real beds...yeah, you get the drift. "Camp" is a misnomer, obviously, but we pretend.

**His team came in second!

***And by "dinner bell," I mean delicious gourmet scents wafting out onto the large porch.

****I meant to write this post about Nubs, and then it got away from me. I'll try again tomorrow!