Ideal Bite

When I was a kid, I used to get sooooo excited about going to the dump. My dad and I would sing along to Johnny Cash's "Five Feet High and Rising" on the way there, and all the while I'd be dreaming of exactly how I was gonna toss all that crap off the back of the truck. Would I drop back and hurl a spiral, Joe Montana-style? Pretend I was Jean-Claude Van Damme and kick it off the tailgate? So many decisions to make.

But it did sometimes cross my mind...what were we gonna do once that big pit got filled up (with all the stuff I swatted in there with my awesome Reggie Jackson swing)? I remember asking my dad once, and he got kinda quiet and said simply, "I don't know." It was rare for my dad to not at least attempt to make up a random yet vaguely plausible answer to any question he was asked, so I knew it had to be serious. Years later, I'm not sure we much more of an answer

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My name is Toshio, and I am a (former) self-tanner addict.

When I moved from sun-soaked Orange County to rainy Portland, I was looking forward to the overcast skies (the novelty wore off after a few months).

One problem: I was used to a year-round golden skin tone, near impossible to keep going during Portland's six months per year of gloom. So I caved and went the fake-tanner route, using the stuff twice a week, all over. But eventually there was too much effort involved - having to wait an hour before I could rinse the stink of the stuff off in the shower; never getting my mid-back because I'm not a trained contortionist. Now, I'm back in CA, and the farmer's tan I get from riding my bike everyday suits me just fine.

-Toshio...off to pale in comparison to my old self...

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From last week's Economist:

"THIS drug is peddled on every street corner in America, and is found in every country in the world. It is psychoactive, a stimulant and addictive. Users say that it increases alertness and focus, and reduces fatigue. But the high does not last and addicts must keep consuming it in increasing quantities."

Take a guess at what drug they're talking about...

-Toshio...off to get high...

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Chicago Bite editor Allison recently found a furniture company that uses "rediscovered," submerged wood (look for that Chicago tip in the next couple months). This "new" source of lumber uses dead, old-growth trees from beneath lakes and reservoirs. The trees are already technically dead, so harvesting them could save a few live trees from cutting, and since they've been underwater for so long, the wood's extremely well-preserved and would make for a great deck - except it's extremely pricey, at about three times the cost of wood from virgin, above-ground trees. Still, whoever came up with the idea gets points for thinking outside of the live-forest box.

-Toshio...off to hold my breath for the costs to come

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Tomorrow, I'll actually be wearing a bridesmaid's dress. And this time, while I didn't have the option of picking anything I wanted, I did get a choice of four styles-all of which happened to be gorgeous. To boot, the bride doesn't care what shoes we wear. For me, the shoes have always been the real problem with bridesmaid get-ups-in particular, the dyed-to-match satin ones that are neither attractive nor durable nor comfortable. I've worn these types of shoes on two occasions: The dye on one pair ran immediately after I stepped on a patch of wet grass, and the other pair (white) scuffed up in the first five minutes and installed some serious blisters. I never wore them again, and though I donated them, I really, really doubt anyone else did either.

-Jenifer Morgan...off to put a sock in it...

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My boyfriend is a native Angeleno (that's LA-born for you non-Californians) and an avid surfer. On one of our first dates he thought it would be a good idea to take me surfing with him in San Onofre, near San Diego. Unbeknownst to him at the time, I'm of the Type-A variety, so riding unpredictable waves wouldn't be an activity that I'd ever seek out (let alone be caught dead in a wetsuit, which is about as flattering and sexy as a unitard). Anyways, he paddled us out with me on the front of his long board, and through runny mascara and a forced smile I remember thinking, "Are we having fun yet?"

Now that he actually knows me, he's blown away that I ever got in the water with him and we still laugh about it. I'm happy to help him wax his board with biodegradable surf wax and then wave to him from

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Two weeks ago I carted a gas mini-grill 40 minutes across San Francisco by bike, all for a softball game. Our team's (we're listed on the roster as "Some Other Team" and Biters Elisa and Mike are teammates) idea was to keep the grill cooking during the whole one-hour match so that we'd look way more well-fed than our opponents, triggering in them hunger and a total loss of confidence.

Even after attempting to bribe the ref with a kielbasa, Some Other Team lost the game, 21-1, so I guess you could say we got roasted on the field - but at least our stomachs were full.

-Toshio...off to play ball...

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I embarked on the predictable post-graduation tour-de-youth when I finished college a couple of years ago. I rallied my two best girlfriends and packed my reasonably sized backpack with the goods I thought I needed to get me through Central America in six months. Included were my favorite pair of jellies. Yes, jellies. Along the way, people gave me a lot of flak for my jellies: “Oh my god – are those jellies!?” Yes, they’re jellies. “Are they comfortable?” Yes, they’re comfortable.

They mold to my feet, they’re waterproof (take that Chaco), and they have little breathing holes to keep my feet aerated. Plus, in the life of my closet, anything without a heel constitutes a walking shoe.

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I embarked on the predictable post-graduation tour-de-youth when I finished college a couple of years ago. I rallied my two best girlfriends and packed my reasonably sized backpack with the goods I thought I needed to get me through Central America in six months. Included were my favorite pair of jellies. Yes, jellies. Along the way, people gave me a lot of flak for my jellies: “Oh my god – are those jellies!?” Yes, they’re jellies. “Are they comfortable?” Yes, they’re comfortable.

They mold to my feet, they’re waterproof (take that Chaco), and they have little breathing holes to keep my feet aerated. Plus, in the life of my closet, anything without a heel constitutes a walking shoe.

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Used tissues are probably the most hazardous thing you'll find in my trash can. But anything you throw in the trash either ends up incinerated or in a landfill, so careful what you toss - nobody wants another Love Canal.

Plus, certain household hazardous waste items can be reformulated into usable things. Used motor oil, for example, can be recycled into heating oil, and recycling just two gallons of used oil can generate enough electricity to power a house for almost a day. Promise to let you know as soon as I hear of a reprocessing scheme for used tissues.

-Toshio...off to thank global warming for toppling SF temperature records...

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