Rocky Patel joins the Band of Merry Men--and everyone is happy! Now! Includes Men in Tights!

I'm all about gathering my Band of Merry Men about me. In fact, I prefer my world that way--surrounded by awesome fellas who think I'm lovely and charming and hilarious.*

Not exactly them, but you get the gist.
(I wish I could get them in these outfits. Even for a day...hahaha)
Also, Men in Tights in a hoot of a movie!

Valentino, of course, is the Robin Hood in this scenario and I'm Maid Marian, for I am a delicate Renaissance flower.** Caballero #2 is Little John, without the monk's robe. But Little John wasn't around for this adventure, sadly.

Generally we wind up in our secret lair (Habanos in Pawtucket, RI) purely by accident--if you call attendance patterns accidents. Whatevs.



I WISH I could get them to chorus line.
I wonder what it would cost me... because I'd pay cash money.

Something else you need to know about the Band of Merry Men: Their numbers fluctuate and the members vary, depending on work and hangover schedules. You may remember the last official unofficial gathering.

But the other day, many core group members found themselves in the tavern, well-primed (by the mead) for shenanigans and cigars. I thrust--yes, actually thrust--these most awesome-looking Rocky Patel American Market Selection robustos (5 1/2 x 50) (below) at four of them, all with varied cigar-smoking regularity and experience. (I had five, but had to save one for Valentino [obvs], who went missing in Sherwood Forest. Or the walk-in humidor.***) 

The lovely folks at Famous Smoke Shop
sent them to us and said, "Smoke these please."
We're very good at following directions.
[source]

I guess I could have given the Band of Merry Men some kind of instruction or told them about the cigar, but...nah. I just demanded, "Smoke this."****

First up, my brother Chris. This was literally his fourth premium cigar ever.*****

New cigar smoker and yet already
mastered one of the key cigar poses.

You know we wouldn't lead him astray (much); his previous three were well-chosen, but this one he declared the best yet. Keep in mind: he doesn't know the cigar lingo or the ever-repeated descriptors, yet he said it surprisingly tasted creamy "and with some nuts or something." Huh.

 

Our pal Jim's a "few cigars a week" smoker and agreed with this Rocky Patel robusto's creaminess.

Note to self: Monitor photographs
rather than tossing the phone to the next victim.
Take my word for it: this is Jim's hand and cigar.
BTW, nice ash, Jim.
Or maybe we should say, "Nice ash, Rocky Patel."

"This is a good mildish smoke," Jim said, using an overly-technical term. His lovely wife rolled her eyes, because that's what long-time lovely wives do.

Poor Deb. She'd come by to take her husband for ice cream.

Jim, however, had yet to touch flame to cigar.

I threatened Merry Men moniker revocation--plus I'd take the cigar back.  When his eyes pleaded "But my wife..." I took control. We stormed her vehicle, insisting she succumb to our demands. And by this, I mean we begged for Jim to please stay and play with us. I also bribed her with promises of adult beverages. She acquiesced. (Yay!)

"And there's a lot of flavor," he continued. "This Rocky Patel is damn good." Thanks for taking one for the Band, Jim! And sorry about the ice cream, Deb!

Another Band leader, Brian, smokes a bit more than Jim, including stogies on the golf course.

Are my photography skills getting better
or his he incredibly photogenic?
I'd bet on the latter.

"This would be a great smoke for the course," Brian said. "It's mild. I prefer that when I'm playing golf. And this," he pointed to burning cigar, "this is the best part so far. It gets better the more I smoke it." He demonstrated with a deep draw. "Where can I get these?"

 

I acted as a fair maiden should, instead of cranking the snark and said, "They're exclusive to Famous Smoke. So if you want them, you either drive there or ask the mighty, mighty internets for assistance." He nodded and yanked out his phone.  "What's it called again?"

 

The most excellent Rocky Patel American Market Selection robusto.

 

And then, our hero, the cigar savant. 

I'd probably get better pictures if I, oh, I don't know--
got up from the couch and perhaps even tried to focus.******

"I like this a lot," Valentino said, and then in a stage-whisper asked how many were left.

I shook my head.

"What does that mean?"

"None," I admitted, trying to look demure while holding a bag of Cheez-Its.

Pretty darned close to his reaction.

Sometimes my generosity in the pursuit of a good (or goodish) story causes strife.  Poor Valentino. He was strifed.

Oh my sweet reader, you just went back up to count, because you thought That was only four Merry Men but...Famous Smoke Shop sent five cigars.

And yet I did lose--one cigar.

Yeah. Lost. Merry Man Eric took his and exited, stage left. I may have to vote him out of the group. Or be more clear in my instructions. Or give instructions. Actually, this is probably on me.

Oh! And some things you want/need to know about the Rocky Patel American Market Selection robustos:

Wrapper: Ecuadorian Connecticut (Rumor has it, this wrapper was all the rage back in the day--not Robin Hood days, but the early 20th century.)

Filler: Honduran and Nicaraguan

Available sizes:

• Churchill (7×49)
• Double Corona (7.5×52)
• Robusto, obviously (5 1/2 x 50)
• Sixty (6×60)
• Toro (6×52)
• Torpedo (6×52)

And in case you slept through that part, you can only get these at Famous Smoke Shop!

All right. I've got to round up the Band of Merry Men. I'm dying for attention. And a meal I don't have to pay for.




*If you know what's good for you, you will NOT debunk this theory.

**Shush, you.

***Or wherever it is he wanders off to as I hide behind the laptop.

****In a lady-like way, of course.

*****Sorry, Mum!

******Story of my life, this inability to focus.



Feeling smug about my mad photography skillz.

Know what day it is? Three days after iROBUSTO day!

Oops. Sorry for the delay. I'll make it worth the wait.

Here's a hint as to this week's iROBUSTO column:

[source]

[source]

[source]

You're welcome, by the way.

So yeah. The article is about how awesome your life will be if your best gal smokes cigars too.

Happy Father's Day!

He's the best dad ever, and the fact that he has gone 48 1/2 years without murdering me should get him sainted, stat.

 

My dad fell asleep while playing with the dog outside.
I think the wearing-out was supposed to happen the opposite way.

And here's Valentino's dad, who passed away this past November. We miss him terribly.

This past August, I snuck his dad here for Valentino's surprise birthday party!
Yes, the pic is blurry, but it's still one of my favorites. 



5 things about...Women Cigar Smokers

Why should you encourage your lady to love the leaf?

Our SuperFriend Nathalie!

I informally surveyed my cigar pals about what makes women who smoke cigars so awesome. (Not really a survey. I got them drunk and demanded answers before returning their lighters.)

5.”You get to double your cigar stuff!” Yeah, having extra humidor space could save the day. Looking to try a new cigar? Look! A humidor filled with new-to-you cigars right…there…

4. Brag about her to your friends. Those guys bitch that their wives hate them going out to smoke and coming home “stinking.” Then in strolls your lovely partner who sits down, kisses you, and lights a premium cigar correctly. You hear a “You lucky bastard” or two.

 

 

3. Buying birthday, anniversary, Christmas gifts is a cinch.

Your buddies circle the mall, declaring they won’t buy anything from the jewelry store.  As these poor guys close in on gift-giving day, they weep openly and slide their credit cards under the jewelry store security gate as the store manager tries to close up shop.

But you. You are one lucky SOB. You purchase a high-end monogrammed cutter and lighter. Or a new humidor. Or a box of her favorite cigars. Or or or. Your choices? Limitless.

2. Spend time with your best friend and cigar lounge pals. No leaving her behind as you go out!  No suffering through something she likes! She’s not accompanying you to something she hates!

You’re going out together, hanging with mutual friends with a shared interest. No asking permission to attend a weekend cigar festival. You go together and have a blast!

Do you have to go out together all the time? Gosh no. But you CAN. And that makes all the difference in the world.

 

The number one reason?

 

 

1.      “It’s sexy as fuck,” said every single guy “surveyed.”  Their reasoning:

• Wishful thinking, where the cigar isn’t just a cigar. (Sorry Dr. Freud.)
• A woman cigar smoker exudes power, is more in command; apparently guys like that.
•  She obviously needs relaxation and reflection time, a natural by-product of cigar smoking. 
• When in the company of cigar-smoking women, they don’t have to hold up a forced conversation.
•  Plus the whole wishful (hopeful) thinking thing.

 
This story was originally published on iRobusto.com.

Words of Wisdom #86

It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World! or: Everyone gets a little Psyko or: I went crazy with the sparkles

I gave my Band of Merry Men (or the inmates in my personal asylum) a project and they did so well, they're going to get more. Hahaha! That's the price of doing a good job: More work.* Luckily for these guys, their chores don't constitute hard labor. Unless you consider smoking cigars and hanging out with me a chore--as if that were even possible! After all, it's not like I'm her:

Band of Merry Men charter member and all-around SuperFriend Karl (Hi Karl!) says that "cigars are a mini-vacation." Exactly. (Unless you're with me and I'm hyper-caffeinated, and then it's more of an adventure vacation--no relaxation for you! Or anyone for that matter! Maybe I do get a tad psycho.** But that's a story for another blog post.)

The day Valentino and I received a package from Ventura Cigars, he gave me the "What did you buy now?" look, which is more excited than angry--you know, because those boxes generally contain cigars or cigar swag.***

I shrugged. I didn't think I'd bought anything, but who can ever say for sure? Besides American Express, that is.

This time? Ventura's Psyko Seven Maduro! Wheeee!

What's in the box? What's in the fucking box?****
5.5 x 50 robustos. That's what's in the box!
(Also, the name of the movie fits this cigar perfectly.)

I don't even smoke the damn things and I got all giddy because...packaging! You can take the girl out of the marketing department but you can't take the marketing department out of the girl...

Founded in 2006, Ventura Cigar Co. showcases a large portfolio of cigars, including Hugo Cassar, Cuban Rejects, Cuban Rounds, Pura Sangre, Pura Sangre Edicion 2012, Plasencia Organica Reserva, Estilo Cubano, PsyKo SEVEN, PsyKo SEVEN maduro, and Project 805.

Two years ago, the company updated their look, with a "killer website, and a renewed vision for the future of the company. We know there is a growing contingent of smoker out there just waiting to be the first to try the next big thing, to tell their story, and to be part of a larger social experience," according to that very company website.

It's like they know us! After all, we live and breathe social experience--hence the cigar shenanigans. Also, we're a wee bit nutty.

Some deets, for those of you here for actual information, not just aforementioned shenanigans:*****

Wrapper: San Andreas

Binder: Mexican Sumatra

Filler: Multiple Country Blend

Country of Origin: Dominican Republic

We let them rest for a few days and headed to our research laboratory. Okay, Habanos Cigar Lounge, in Pawtucket, RI actually, but "research laboratory" sounds much more impressive--like we actually know what we're doing. Hahahaha. As if. There's no doubt we should be in white coats, though--just not lab coats. Perhaps something a little more form-fitting:

When we arrived, I plopped into a comfy chair, joined soon after by another charter member and SuperFriend, Jim. (Hi Jim!) And then Karl made an appearance; both settled within the enclave as Valentino strolled back over. You'd think I'd shone a signal beacon in the sky and these kind gentlemen answered the call. Or serendipity happened. Either works for the story.

"You have to smoke these now," I told them in my most bossy way while thrusting cigars into their faces.******

One of them said he wanted to finish his current smoke. I gave him the stare and he rested the lit cigar on the ashtray.

   <--Jim  Karl -->  

Most fun thing ever to do? Give three people the same cigar but have them begin smoking at different times. Over the course of each cutting, toasting, and lighting, they all agreed about an aromatic taste in the beginning, as if the cigar were on its best behavior. After that, came "I taste a lot of pepper" from the first man (first man of the group, not the first man ever) to move beyond the aromaticness (an awesome made-up word, a word made up by me, who is awesome).

The remaining Band members shook their collective heads, looking at him as if he were crazy. "I'm not getting that," said Karl. We chatted about upcoming outings (Perhaps commandeering a boat and going deep sea fishing?) and then Valentino, admitted to the ward last, said, "I'm getting a lot of pepper."



Perhaps a nice boat ride, gentlemen?

This happened time and again, as if Jim, the first smoker touching flame to stick, was both Lewis and Clark.******* Or perhaps Randle Patrick McMurphy, leading the charge at a certain Oregon mental institution.

"I tried to knock the ash off and it wouldn't go," Karl pointed out. "That's a well-made cigar." True story. When you remove the cigar's straight jacket, you get something near perfection:

The Band mumbled about cedar and leather and other delicious notes as they worked their way through. Best part, though? As the first starter finished up, he noted  "It's weirdly peppery again. But weird pepper." The others nodded, like he was a bit of a lunatic; how could something be weirdly peppery. It's either peppery or not.

But when Karl hit the same mark, he said, "Oh. Yes. Weirdly peppery." He achieved maximum pensiveness and literally held up a finger. "It's like a 9-volt battery on the tip of my tongue." Ah. Shock therapy.  A few minutes later, the third and final member of the Band said, "Oh yeah" and grabbed at his tongue.) "Huh. That is weird." (I assume that's what he said, as he held his tongue as he spoke.) And then, because our hero is our hero, he went in for more.

Jim looked at his cigar nubbin. "It kept changing with every draw." He stuck a finger in his mouth and said around the roadblock, "And it was a real finger-burner." Warning: Expect a digit-scorching while trying to suck the ever-lovin' last drop of life from the cigar, not unlike sucking the ever-loving life out of McMurphy. (Ooops. Spoiler alert. But really, you must have seen this movie or read the book, right? Right?)

Valentino nodded. "That's why they call is Psyko."

We all nodded and uttered a collective "Ahhhh...Juicy Fruit." <--Not really. They just said, "Ahhhh," but I couldn't pass up an opportunity like that.

For realz. This is one of the best scenes in the movie.

And now, the sparkles:

*When I was a kid and my dad asked me to sweep the floor, I did a crappy job. Then I didn't have to do it again. You can call me crazy, but I prefer clever.

**I'm going to look like a genius in a couple of paragraphs for this reference.

***You know the stereotype where the woman shops and hides purchases and the guy gets mad and can't buy cigars and stuff because aforementioned woman hates that smell? We're the opposite. Complete and total opposite.

****I say this way too much, but in my head, it's hilarious every time. Also, hilarious is one of my new favorite words, right up there with blunderbuss and onomatopoeia. <--Didn't even have to look up the spelling. I love it THAT much. BOOM! <--If you know the definition of onomatopoeia, That, too, is hilarious.

*****I currently fancy myself the shenanigator, my new superhero name.

******Men hate this, right? Hahahahaa.

*******That makes me Sacagawea, I guess. But that's a terrible superhero name. With all these personalities, I'm being to look very Three Faces of Eve, which juuuussssttt happens to fit with the whole post's theme. If you need me, I'll be over here feeling smug.