Journalist For a Day

I know what you're thinking - two blog posts in the same week? What did I do to deserve such reward? You did nothing - but I am feeling extra generous. Besides, this one is easy.

Every week in the summer, I play on the work softball team. The following day, someone from the team writes a recap of the game in quasi-journalistic fashion. Last year, I pretty much did "the write-up" full-time. The office seemed to enjoy my unique, clever, satirical (insane) fake articles. This year, things have been a bit busy, so the one I wrote this morning was my first of the summer. Since some of you inexplicably have praised my writing style, I thought it would be neat to post last night's game recap to the blog. Our team is called The Force.

Enjoy.

BLOWOUT

Force steamrolls FAMA to continue perfect season; Whitman sparks concern by opting for water over beer

By Bruce Wayne

WALTHAM, Mass. – 26-2. And it wasn’t even that close.

The Force produced their best all-around game in several years, crushing longtime rival FAMA in front of a raucous home crowd at SleepApneaInfo.com Field in Newton. With the win, your hometown heroes improved their record to 8-0 and with two games to go, are one step closer to perfection in the mythical PR/Analyst/Trade Publication/Insurance softball league.

Despite the decisive victory, Manager Emily Fisher kept a sense of perspective. “We’re happy to get the win. We’ll enjoy it tonight and then start preparing for next week,” said Fisher. “I thought the team played well. Like every week, we did some good things and we did some not-so-good things. We’re always trying to find a way to improve.”

The Force needs one more victory to advance to the championship game where they could make history as the first undefeated team in the history of the league. This year’s game will be played in Glendale, Arizona.

Fisher, however, wouldn’t look ahead.

“Look, all we can do is prepare for the next game,” she said. “Our focus is on Lois Paul & Partners. They are a well-balanced team – they run well, they hit well and they field well. We’re going to have to play at our best if we want to chance to win.”

As for the game, The Force played nearly flawless softball. Offensively, Schwartz was firing on all cylinders. The team scored 8 runs in the first inning, followed by 10 runs in the second. Perhaps more impressively was how the team played on defense. In three of the seven innings, Schwartz did not allow a baserunner, sending FAMA down 1-2-3. By the time FAMA came to bat in the top of the 5^th, Schwartz clung to a 22-0 lead. Thoughts of a shutout were dispelled when FAMA eeked out a single run in the 5^th and the 6^th. Fittingly, the game ended on a spectacular diving catch made by shortstop Zach “Isn’t he dreamy?” Servideo, who made the play on a ball hit to shallow left field. Servideo could be seen signing autographs for himself after the game.

While the outcome was never in doubt, there were several storylines off the field. Outfielder Andrew Law, who raised the ire of the fandom by sitting out the last several games while claiming soreness in his knees, returned to action last night. This is not the first time Law has raised suspicions about his injury status and with The Force not having yet committed to picking up his option for next season, there is speculation that Director of Player Personnel Mike Farber is entertaining trade offers for the embattled SAE. Law had no comment after the game but did go a perfect 4-for-4 on the evening and scored 3 runs.

The crack marketing staff at SleepApneaInfo.com field staged two promotions for last night’s game. The first was “Bring your kids to the park night.” Both FAMA and Schwartz had strong family support, although it should be noted that many of the FAMA kids were crying by the end of the game, reportedly driven to tears by the team’s poor performance. As for The Force, it is likely not a coincidence that the team’s best game of the year coincided with visits from Jack Farber and Harrison, Delaney and Jared Kabat. Force players opened the bench area to the offspring and could be seen playing with them in between innings.

The second promotion – “Catch the ball with something other than your glove night” – seemed to be designed strictly for FAMA. At various points in the game, opposing players eschewed gloves and attempted to make a play using feet, chests and arms. While this approach seemed to keep the medics busy, it was not as successful in keeping The Force off the scoreboard.

Notebook

The team made a triumphant return to RJ Crowleys in West Newton last night for postgame fun. In 2006, after several years at Crowleys, the team relocated their after party to Paddy’s Pub. However, ongoing logistical issues – including lost reservations and one very bad order of mussels – sparked the return to a once-favorite stomping ground. While the food and drink were top-notch, attention was focused squarely on infielder/outfielder/all-around nice guy Tim Whitman, who drank several glasses of water, but only one beer (normally, it’s the other way around). Whitman, who declined comment, is thought to be suffering from a moderate case of abdominal overhang and is restructuring his caloric intake in preparation for his nuptials to the very lovely Lauren Arnold. As a result, bartenders around the Boston-area have designated today as an official period of mourning.

For the first time this year, every Schwartz player had at least one hit and scored at least one run. Despite the offensive outburst, Schwartz did not hit any home runs, although to be fair, the team noticeably dialed back their aggressiveness in the later innings. Statistics for each player is below.

39 days until kickoff.

Next Week: The pursuit of perfection continues next week with a rare August road game as The Force takes on Lois Paul & Partners in Woburn.

PLAYER STATISTICS:
Mike Farber (OF): 5 for 5; 3 runs scored

Jess Fiorelli (1B): 4 for 5; 2 runs scored

Jon Siegal (3B): 5 for 5; 2 runs scored

Dave McKee (SS): 3 for 5; 1 run scored

Tim Whitman (IF/OF): 3 for 5; 3 runs scored; 1 beer; 3 waters

Chuck Kabat (OF): 5 for 5; 3 runs scored

AJ Gosselin (C/OF): 4 for 4; 3 runs scored

Zach Servideo (IF/OF/C): 1 for 4; 1 run scored

Andrew Law (OF): 4 for 4; 3 runs scored

Nick Gosselin (IF/OF): 4 for 5; 1 run scored

Jeff Benanto (IF/C): 1 for 4; 1 run scored

Emily Fisher (P): 3 for 4; 3 runs scored

The Final Frontier

Confession time: I am a science fiction geek. Let the jokes begin.

No, I've never worn Vulcan ears. Yes, I did want my own time-traveling DeLorean. No, I was never in love with Princess Leia (now Chewbacca - on the other hand - what a hunk).

Perhaps I should clarify - I'm a fan of good science fiction. And guess what? So are you.

Don't believe me? This movie seemed to be pretty popular; this one was in the theaters for almost a full year; just about everyone saw this movie. This film is considered a classic; and, Will Smith became the world's biggest star based on this movie and this one.

I could go on, but because most of you have either gone insane or clicked to another web site, I'll stop.

I bring up the topic of science fiction because I recently saw The Dark Knight (also known as Batman VI). The movie has been out 10 days (as of this blog post) and has already made a LOT of money. Why? Because it's really, really good. In fact, it is the most well-written and entertaining movie I've seen in a long, long time. And while Batman doesn't have any traditional superpowers, many of his contraptions are a bit on the far-fetched side. So, for that reason, and for the purposes of using this example to suit my argument, I hereby label Batman as sci-fi. So there.

The problem with science fiction is that much of it is drivel. Because the story usually involves elements that require the viewer to suspend some measure of belief, writers/directors believe that plot and character development can take a backseat. The result is a TV show or film that is stereotypically bad. However, on the flip side, when a quality product is delivered, the result tends to be one blockbuster after another.

Although it is much harder to find, there is some good science fiction on television. Lost is one good example (although nobody knew that this show would incorporate sci-fi elements when it started). Another good example is Battlestar Galactica, which is down to it's last handful of episodes. For much of the 4 years that it's been on the air, this show was considered among the best, if not the best, on television. Hard to argue - it's an excellently written TV show that just happens to take place in space.

Of course, this simple fact is enough of a reason for most viewers to ignore it in favor of more compelling programming like this, this and this. Why watch intelligently produced shows when we can watch one reality show after another where three judges make someone cry, then eliminate them from the competition?

My personal favorite sci-fi TV show is called Stargate, which is derived from the movie of the same name. If you've been to the house, you'll no doubt notice the box sets of each season next to the DVD player. It's a smart, well-written show that doesn't take itself too seriously...and happens to be based on a portal allowing instantaneous travel to other planets. Given the high cost of gas these days, instantaneous travel has it's advantages.

Underneath the story line is a refreshing amount of dry wit and sarcasm, which precious few TV shows and movies have. Although the series was canceled last year after a 10-year run, two straight-to-DVD movies were made - one which was released in March and the other which will be released this week. Oh, and a spin-off series is currently in it's 5th season, which is a testament to the interest generated from a consistently produced high quality product.

Alas, I doubt I've converted the non-believers to give science fiction a shot. That's OK - I invite the jokes that are sure to follow. In fact, I demand them. That is, unless you are too busy watching such quality programming such as this.

Mark's Top 10

For those of you fortunate enough not to have read Mark's commentary on my last blog post, he thought it would be helpful to offer a top 10 list of topics that I can philosophize on if I were having trouble coming up with ideas of my own.

It should now be noted that Mark has no taste in steak, only sometimes can fix cars and inexplicably plays bad poker hands in his spare time, but the man is a genius.

And so, much to your (and Mark's) dismay, here are my always logical and mostly ridiculous thoughts on:

1. Oil prices – Why the Laws of Supply and Demand Are a Crock of sh*t.
In my view, we're stuck with $4 gas for a few reasons. First, oil producing countries are not increasing supply to cope with an ever-increasing demand. Damn you China and other far-eastern countries. What was wrong with your rickshaws?

Second, while oil companies do not control the market, what they do control is the silly insistence on sustaining their profit margins. The higher the price of oil, the more profit generated, which is why you see Exxon/Mobil reporting profits of around $54 billion per day (I am only slightly exaggerating). And as public companies, Big Oil is not going to reduce their profit margins. Ever.

Third, we happen to be driving vehicles that run on the same technology which powered the Wright Brothers' first car 100 years ago. Does this make any sense? Fact is, we already should be driving cars that run on garbage, but for the past few decades, our lawmakers have been too busy accepting payoffs to actually make this happen. I suppose if the oil crisis of the 1970s didn't lead to such goals, nothing will. Seriously, we as a society are morons.

2. How the Heck is Miley Sirus So Friggin Popular - How You Can Get Your Daughter to be as Successful.
This is a classic case of "who you know." Today, having talent is not required to become rich and famous. Which means that if I knew any powerful entertainment people at all, I'd be loaded. Plan B - name your daughter Hannah Montana.

3. America’s Obsession With Big Sunglasses – The Untold Story
Who looks cooler:
This person? This person? This person?.....or this person?

Now seriously, please take those silly glasses off. Much like those who embraced the unfortunate return of corduroy pants, you're embarrassing yourselves.

4. Fashion – How Something So Ugly, Can Sell For so Much – a Brief Lesson in Economics
Ah yes, fashionistas. Forsaking any semblance of individuality to follow orders from those who have somehow been granted absolute power to determine what is acceptable to wear. Silly me...I thought World War II had eradicated those pesky Nazis. Looks like I was mistaken.

5. A Mystery - How Does the Speedo Style Bathing Suit Still Find a Market to Sell in Today’s Society?
Because the fashion Nazis say so.

6. “What I Would Do Differently if I Were God. A list.”
- Prevent the birth of David Tyree.
- Oh, and facilitate peace on earth. Blah blah...

(in that order)

7. The Cost of Doing Business – The Benefits of Legalizing the Drug Trafficking Trade
We already are. Of course, legalizing pot - which one could easily argue is less harmful than cigarettes and no more harmful than alcohol - would generate billions of dollars in taxes. Good thing that our local, state and federal governments don't need the money.

The same goes for online gambling.

8. Frivolous Lawsuits and Liberal Judges – Why We Need to Rid Ourselves of Both.
Two reasons why this will never happen. First, the news media would be forced to do stories on things that actually impact people, such as sleep apnea, digital dental technology, innovative health benefits that help sick people get better quicker, tests that can predict the severity of prostate cancer and "per-seat, on-demand" regional jet service.

Second, they'd have to take Judge Judy, Judge Joe Brown, Judge Dredd and all of the other judges off the air.

9. The Downsizing of America – Prices Go Up, Portions Go Down – How You’re Getting Screwed and Don’t Even Know It.
Remember back in the day when you would go to a movie and get a big bucket of popcorn? It was 1990 and I went to go see Hunt for Red October. I get to the concession stand and there is a big sign alluding to the switch from buckets of popcorn to bags. The price for a large increased by 50 cents and the size of the bag could not have been even half the size of the bucket. According to the sign, bags were better for the environment than buckets. I am not kidding, and if you don't think this was a seminal moment in my life that I have truly yet to get over, then you don't know me at all.

10. Eat Off the Floor – Its OK. 14 Great Reasons to Allow Your Kids to Get Sick Once in a While.
Please. It's probably healthier to eat off the floor these days than it is in a restaurant. The salmonella outbreak? Anyone with half a brain knows that the oil companies are behind it. After all, you're not going to rickshaw to the doctors office....

Deep Thoughts...

So it's been almost 3 weeks since I've last updated the ol' blog. Know why?

First, because I haven't really had the time. My rambling manifestos can often take up to an hour to write, find stuff to link to, edit and post. Given that this started as a work project, I wanted to do most of the posts from the office, but work has been so crazy lately that there are simply not enough hours in the day.

Second, because it's difficult to come up with topics to write about. Fun fact: I don't like to write. In fact, I borderline hate it. So of course, I end up in a career that requires a fair amount of writing. Why? Because I am an idiot...don't ever forget that.

That said, I do want to keep this blog a wee bit more current. At the very least, twice per week. So, instead of ridiculously long diatribes, I am going to try what most bloggers do - offer reasonably short, concise thoughts reflecting what's new in my world.

When columnists can't think of any one thing to write about, they'll put together a bulleted list of random thoughts. It's the newspaper equivalent of the "flashback" episode of your favorite TV show. It's a dumb and lazy way to generate new content and is generally an insult to your readership. It's also quite brilliant. So, without further ado, here is my list of random thoughts:

• My car hates me. How else to explain the never-ending list of problems (and hence, repairs) that have come up in the past year? Maybe it's anti-semitic? Maybe it's upset because it knows that I am going to trade it in at the end of the summer? Maybe it's just testing my stupidity for continuing to fix it rather than just getting rid of it immediately, as some fairly smart people suggested I do.
  

• I'm not saying I've spent my life savings fixing the car, but my mechanic recently offered to take me on a 2-week vacation for putting his kids through college. I thought that was sweet.
  

• I bought a new patio set and am thankful to Mark for helping me assemble the table. And by helping me assemble the table, what I really mean is, "thanks for assembling the table." However, I was brave enough to try assembling the chairs on my own. And by "brave enough," what I really mean is that Mark had to leave so I was stuck putting the chairs together on my own. There were 6 chairs; four had four screws each, two had two screws each. A total of 20 screws (and washers and nuts). Took me 3 hours. Would have taken Mark - or just about anyone else on earth - 15 minutes. Sometimes, I amaze even myself.

• Here's how close I am to my family. We're throwing my mother a surprise 60th BBQ next month and I was told about it a day before the invitations were sent out. Oh, and can I buy the cake for 70 people? Apparently, this passover dinner thing has legs.
  

• There is a person at the gym who has a mullet, wears a "wife beater" t-shirt and wraps his towel around himself before he gets in the shower...when he is still sweaty and smelly. I think each of these things are odd.

• There are three treadmills at the gym. I regularly use the one on the left. However, every day, a man elects to use the one in the middle despite the fact that the treadmill on the right is unoccupied. I also think this is odd. Did I mention that there is about 5 inches of space between treadmills?
  

• Ruth's Chris or Texas Roadhouse. Which has the better food? Perhaps more importantly, which doesn't have their wait staff engage in line dancing every half hour?
  

• Condolences to Tim Russert's family. However, I think NBC want a wee bit over the top by devoting the entirely nightly news on Friday to Russert. As well as a one hour prime time special Friday night. As well as the entire Today Show on Saturday morning. NBC - you may be in deep mourning, but most of the rest of us aren't. Stop it.
  

• It amazes me that the same special effects which can make hobbits look so small can also make the hulk look so silly. HULK FAKE!
  

Remember when I wrote that I was all done with long blog posts? Forget it.

To My Wife...

One year ago today, I believe it was your father who said it best: "I give 'em 3 years."

Clearly, your father is an optimist. I didn't think we'd make it through Christmas. After all, here is what you bring to our marriage: openness, compassion, forgiveness, generosity, a never-ending amount of patience and a knack for cooking. Oh, and a free house.

Here is what I bring: a smart-ass sense of humor, an ability to expel excess gastrointestinal vapors in new and exciting ways, a propensity for road rage and a continuous request for back rubs. Oh, and constant griping - while doing the dishes - that you typically need 278 kitchen utensils to make spaghetti.

Despite this, you've not only hung around, but apparently you're willing to stay a while. Which not only makes me question your sanity, but the legitimacy of a degree from Harvard. I know you're smart and all, but...well...scroll up and check those lists again.

The experts say that we should never stop growing, and so as we enter year 2, I resolve to grow as well. That is, grow the number of games I/we watch on our kick-ass high def TV. You can deny it all you want, but you and I both know there is nothing more romantic then spending the wee hours of a Friday night watching Marlins-Dodgers. I'll even let you pick the topping on the pizza.

Putting up with me is not always easy, but more often than not, you do it with a smile. Like anyone who knows me well, you know that I say what's on my mind, and most of the time, you grin and bear it...although you'll be pleased to know that after 4.5 years, I may have figured out that jokes about Satan and the communion wafers do not seem to be your favorites.

You sometimes ask me why I love you and it's not so much coming up with a list of qualities so much as it is appreciating the totality. You are a good person with a gigantic capacity to love; you're (reasonably) funny; pretty damn cute; and, you don't complain as you wash my running clothes twice per week. What's not to love?

As we look ahead to year two and beyond, we look forward to visiting Vegas and finally bringing home Vegas. That's right - we've already had the name tag etched out...whatever dog we finally end up with...his or her name is Vegas (Baby). We'll hopefully land a new set of wheels and there's a decent chance that you will finally get me more involved with church events, now that you have explained to me what's at stake.

Remember when you asked me to be more expressive in writing? I'm assuming this is what you had in mind?

Happy anniversary, honey. I love you.

Dream Job

My first dream job? School bus driver.

My second dream job? Cashier in the cafeteria of the local supermarket. I figured it would entitle me to as many grilled cheese sandwiches as I could eat.

(Editors note: is there a better sandwich than the grilled cheese? I think not).

According to my parents, I was 4 and 6 years old, respectively, at the time I made these career ambitions known. Worth noting that during this two year period, they separated and would later divorce. Clearly, they could not handle my impending employment doom.

For much of my elementary and middle school years, I aspired to be an airline pilot. And I would have been if it wasn't for those meddling kids...and the fact that I was deficient in two very important criteria - mathematics and patience. Other than simple arithmetic, I've never been good at math. As for patience? Well, perhaps you remember this.

It's one thing to be seated in 14A and resigned to the fact that there is nothing I can do when it's announced that we are number 12 for takeoff. However, if I were up front, things could get ugly:

Air Traffic Control: Continental 170, taxi to runway 28 left. You will be number 12 for departure, just behind the United 747 and the biplane operated by Mike's Cropdusting.

Me: What the F*ck? This place is a freaking disaster! Is that a pickup truck up front? No way I am getting stuck behind this mess...

ATC: Continental 170? You don't have authorization to pass. Also, I can see you giving the finger to the guy in the biplane. That is unprofessional.

Me: Shove it, ATC. This is ridiculous. I can see that there aren't any breakdowns ahead. If everyone else wants to go 4 mph, that's their business. I'm not putting up with it. They're all driving like an 80 year old woman.

ATC: Continental 170, the taxiway isn't wide enough for you to go around. You're going to end up...

ATC: Airport emergency services, we have a Continental 767 in Boston Harbor....


Today, I have a good job that is mostly interesting, pays reasonably well, offers better-than- average benefits and has allowed me to form what I hope are several lifelong friendships. Do I dread going to work every day? Absolutely not. Is it my dream job? Absolutely not.

I would think that it is rare for a person to end up in their dream job. Often times, these jobs are limited in supply and heavily in demand. Some are skill dependent, such as athletics, acting or dancing. Others may require sacrifices - i.e., a small salary or excessive schooling - that many people are not willing to make.

As for me, I would gladly turn in my building's security card for a chance to:

• Host a sports radio show. My workday would be 3-4 hours long, watching/attending games would be mandatory and as the morons at WEEI demonstrate repeatedly (I'm talking about you Pete Shepherd), I don't need to know what I am talking about in order to be successful.
  

• Play poker for a living. However, I wouldn't attempt this unless and until I hit the lottery, so that my financial future is not based on whether the 23 year old dilweed on the other side of the table, who called all of my raises with a Jack-4, ends up making his hand on the river.
  

• Be on the ratings board of the Motion Picture Association of America. Yep, it's a full-time position where people get paid to watch movies and assign a rating to them. Fun fact: you have to be a parent in order to land this job.
  

• Test video games. Some colleges are now offering this as a major.

Sadly, I don't see myself landing any of these positions any time soon. Or ever. Instead, maybe I'll get into the dog breeding business, completely lose my mind and spend my days breaking the hearts of well-meaning puppy owners everywhere.

Just a thought.

How Dumb Am I?

I was thinking of leaving the rest of this post blank and watching a record number of comments pour in. And as much fun as that would be, think I'll keep writing.

On the most recent episode of Survivor - yes, it's still on and yes I still watch it - one of the five remaining players made the dumbest mistake in the history of that show. It might even go down as the most boneheaded move since the invention of the McRib. A 22 year old ice cream scooper named Erik, who had previously won immunity and was safe from being voted out at tribal council, was convinced by the four remaining contestants (all women) that in order to "gain the respect of his tribe," he must transfer his immunity to one of the others.

In a related development, he was sent home a few moments later. Unreal. The dude would have had a 1-in-4 shot at a million bucks but ended up losing out because he felt guilty for trying to deceive others. In Survivor. Where the motto is "outwit, outplay, outlast." Well done.

While I still chuckle at his stupidity, it got me thinking about some of the dumb things I've done in my life. Fear not, I won't list them all, as typing even 10 percent of them would keep me at the keyboard until August. Still, for someone who prides himself on having common sense, I've done some pretty ridiculous things. For example:

• Growing a beard. While bald.
  

• Putting down 13 beers at a college party and not drinking an ounce of water the entire evening. The resulting hangover lasted 5 days.

• Drinking Busch Light at the aforementioned party. Busch Light!

• Promising a reporter that she would be first to break a client's big news, only to end up working with another reporter who beat her to it.

• After drinking two 32 oz. Jack and Cokes, passing out on a friend's couch, waking up, walking over to the entertainment center in the corner of the living room and urinating all over the TV...while 5 people in the kitchen were looking on.
  

• Drinking two 32 oz Jack and Cokes.
  

Notice a pattern yet? Jon + alcohol = idiot.

However, you'll be pleased to know that my dumbest moment took place while completely sober. That would be the time that I decided an SOS pad would be the most effective tool to remove tree sap from all over my car. And you know what? I was absolutely right! The sap came right off. Ha!

And so did the clearcoat and paint.

I hadn't had the car for more than 3 months and within a 5 minute span, I scrubbed away 90% of it's worth.

Why did I do it? Because my head was in shambles after an attractive female friend, whom I was mostly in lust with, told me that she had lupus and might die. What's worse is that this woman had a unique gift to make a mountain out of the tiniest molehill. Drama queen would only be a starting point to describe her personality. However, that didn't stop your pal Jon...I bought it hook, line, sinker and brillo pad.

You can probably already figure out that she did not have lupus. She forgot to mention that doctors told her lupus was one of 263 reasons she wasn't feeling well that week. The official diagnosis was a mild-to-moderate case of the sniffles.

And now that I've put the idea in your head, perhaps you, my faithful reader, will start thinking about some of the dumber things you've ever done. Acceptable answers include:

• Reading this blog
• Becoming friends with me
• Marrying me

I'd ask you to share in the comment box, but I've learned my lesson from the great food posting experiment of April.

By the way, getting back together with The Mouth came in a close second.

Heartbreak

And just like that....no dog.

Last night, I got a call from Todd, the male breeder, (they are a husband and wife team) and was told that it's not going to work out because "he has a gut feeling" that Jenn and I are not ready to be lab owners.

When asked what gave him this feeling, Todd didn't have much to offer. Apparently, when Jenn was holding the dog in the breeder's yard on Friday, I made a passing remark about how she had some dirt on her coat (the dog was playing in the mulch) and apparently, this pissed him off. How do I know it pissed him off? He told me so last night, and then proceeded to tell me that labs are active, get dirty and require a lot of attention. He also told me that grass is green, the sky is blue and Eli Manning is the anti-Christ, so I know he must be telling the truth.

Jenn and I planned to pick up the dog this Friday. However, when I got into work yesterday, I realized that I wouldn't be able to take Friday off - the first time that's happened in my 4 years at Schwartz. The reasons were legitimate, so I harbor no ill will. I spoke with Mary Catherine, the wife, yesterday afternoon to let her know that we might have to push the pickup back to Saturday, and that I would let her know for certain today. She seemed completely fine with it. I can only guess that when she told her husband, he wasn't fine with it.

In fact, during the course of my 10 minute chat with Mary Catherine yesterday, she gave no indication that there were any problems. Nor was any indication of a problem given Friday night when we met the dog.

To be fair, I do respect Todd's position - he wants only what's best for the dog and if he has a bad feeling about us, then so be it. However, not only could he not rationalize his belief, he seemed entirely unimpressed despite the fact that Jenn and I arranged our schedule next week so that one of us would be home at all times, Jenn would be able to take the puppy to work for the foreseeable future, we have a completely fenced in backyard and open fields nearby (meaning the dog would get plenty of exercise) and we have been pining for a dog for quite some time.

Perhaps the breeders expect that whomever takes the dog will spend every waking hour at home for the next 6 months until the dog is house-trained, broken in and self-sufficient. Baring that, hard for me to believe any new owners could be as flexible and prepared as we were. Oh, did I mention we spent the weekend on a shopping spree for a crate, leashes, toys, food, and anything else that would be required for puppy ownership?

Hard to describe what I am feeling right now - a combination of sadness, frustration and anger. If you know me at all, you understand how unusual this is, as very little phases me. But the way in which this unfolded - with no real rationalization and 4 days after we came to an agreement - is absurd.

So what's next? From a timing standpoint, we lucked out with the dog no longer to be known as Vegas. By the time we identify other breeders and bring a new pup home, we're talking 2-4 weeks at an absolute minimum. Considering that Jenn will be gone for a week at the end of June and that we will spend roughly one-third of August traveling, it seems to make more sense to wait until the end of the summer.

I know what you're thinking and I agree - guess I shouldn't have skipped Passover dinner.

Vegas, baby.

I was just re-reading the Fenway Park posting, and could not help but notice that my views came across rather...strongly. Yuck. I'm fairly certain that my 6 faithful readers appreciate my irreverent (some might say moronic) views and sharp-as-a-butter knife wit. The Fenway entry was written while I was cranky and nearing the end of a long week. It won't happen again. Until next time. Maybe.

Anyway, there is news to share. Our one year anniversary is approaching and apparently, this thing might actually work out. Who knew? So, Jenn and I started to think about the future - in a familial way. One thing led to another...and the next thing you know, we're expecting! We are extremely excited and having waited until everything checked out, can now share the details with family, friends and anyone with a malfunctioning "e" button who might have accidentally stumbled onto this blog:

I know what you're thinking - and you're right. She has my nose and Jenn's sense of God.

Say hello to the Lord's newest yellow lab, Vegas. 11 pounds; 8 weeks old.

You might be wondering what happened to my longstanding plan to name the dog "Bruschi." The truth can now be told - Jenn made me change it. Something about the 11th commandment - thou shall not giveth the dog gender identity disorder.

We pick her up on Friday.

Save Fenway?

A few days ago, I asked on my poll question whether Fenway Park was a mecca or a shithole. Six responses so far - well, actually, five if you don't include my own - and it appears that public sentiment regards Fenway as a historic field of dreams.

(And by the way, I'm quickly learning that audience participation is not the strong suit of my extremely small readership. I'm fairly certain I have more than 5 readers, but apparently, everyone else's mouse must be on the fritz. Send me your names and addresses and I'll ask my pal Jess, Schwartz IT guru, to look into the problem.)

Anyway, back to Fenway. People like it. They love it. They want more of it.

God bless you all, because I am the contrarian. It is I who registered the one and only vote against. And you know why?

Because Fenway Park is a dump that needs to be torn down yesterday, if not sooner. I believe most people would agree if they were to be honest, but because Bostonians are so resistant to change, we fall back on history, tradition and emotion to rationalize the irrational.

The last time I was at Fenway, getting up the ramp and to my seat took more than 10 minutes. I'm not talking about 10 minutes from the time I entered the park, walked to the other side and found my seat. I am talking about approaching the ramp and immersing myself in a bottleneck of human flesh because the corridor and ramp were both entirely too small to allow for a normal flow of people. 10 minutes to walk about 50 feet.

I'm thinking of a sports venue that was built nearly 100 years ago. It was constructed using technology and materials from a century ago. There is zero leg room, a healthy percentage of seats face the wrong way, there are seats where the view is obstructed by giant polls and by any definition, it's not equipped to handle the amount of people that attend each game. Oh, and it has a never dissipating stench.

Fenway? Nope. The old Boston Garden. If memory serves, I don't recall a SAVE THE GAHDEN campaign. That place was a smelly old dump whose replacement was long overdue. As is Fenway's.

So why the fervor to keep things the way they are? Honestly, I really don't know. Perhaps because it's small and the seats are close to the field? Well, so were the seats in the Garden. As well as old Foxboro Stadium. In fact, the seats at the old football stadium were probably closer to the field than anywhere else, but that is no reason to put up with the considerable downside. My seats at Gillette Stadium are significantly farther from the action, but it's a superior venue in every way.

History then? Nostalgia? Tradition? Please correct me if I am mistaken, but didn't the Sox endure an 86 year curse? Even if you don't believe in curses, the fact is that between 1918 and 2004, there was considerably more heartbreak than triumph at Fenway. The real question is, why wouldn't we want a new stadium to erase all of the painful memories of the past? And if you look beyond the heartbreak factor, consider:

The Montreal Canadiens are the signature franchise of the NHL. They have won 24 championships since beginning play in 1909. In 1996, they moved from the historic Forum - a stadium that was rich in nostalgia, tradition and was 72 years old at the time - to a modern arena.

The New York Yankees are the signature franchise of major league baseball. They have won 26 championships since beginning play in 1913. Next year, they are moving from Yankee Stadium - a place that is rich in nostalgia, tradition and will be 85 years old at the time - to a modern venue.

I've been fortunate enough to visit some of the newer stadiums, such as Camden Yards in Baltimore, AT&T Park (formerly Pac Bell) in San Francisco and Miller Park in Milwaukee -- and I'd rather watch a game at these places than Fenway. While they don't have the rich tradition of some older stadiums, they are clean, modern, comfortable and fan-friendly. I don't mean to be patronizing, but am I the only person who considers this important, especially for sky-high ticket prices?

If you haven't yet visited a newer stadium, give it a shot. Your reaction will likely be similar to mine when I first stepped foot in Camden Yards: "Wow...this is what it's like to actually be comfortable at a game." If you are completely honest with yourself, you'll have to at least consider that maybe upgrading isn't a bad thing.

Fenway Park is almost 100 years old. It is a wonderful old relic. But, it's a relic and it's time to be replaced. Red Sox nation is supposedly the most rabid fan base in all of sports. Don't we deserve better?

No Respect

As a semi-reborn Hockey Krishna, I was both saddened and amused by this video from The Onion:


NHL Star Called Up To Big Leagues To Play For NFL Team

Jewish Jihad!

I originally thought that boycotting my family's Passover dinner would lead to the Channel 7 alliteration treatment:

Next on 7 News: Passover Pandemonium! Matzo Mayhem!! Hebrew Havoc!!!

Instead, Jenn ended up more ticked than anyone else in the family (note to self: do not anger the one who provides the roof over your head. Also, do not taunt Happy Fun Ball).

A quick primer:

Passover, according to Judaism - The 8 day observance commemorating the freedom and exodus of the Israelites from Egypt during the reign of the Pharaoh Ramses II. Woo hoo! Follow me to freedom!

Passover, according to Jon - The bane of humanity's existence (well, except for the Jews being free. That part strikes me as a good thing). How bad? I'd rather be stuck behind a pickup in the left lane.

Passover and I have been at odds since my early years when I was told that if I were to observe, I'd have to give up bread (as well as cookies, cakes, pastas and any other products with yeast) for 8 crazy days and nights. Why? Because on the way out of Egypt, the newly freed Jews were in such a rush to get to the airport, they didn't wait for the bread in the oven to rise. So, unrisen, or unleavened bread - made solely of water and flour - was all they had to eat. Apparently, if it was good enough for them, it should be good enough for everyone else. Whatever. In place of bread, we have matzo, which tastes like toasted cardboard that needs more salt.

Back in my formative years, I gave matzo a shot, but was never able to last more than a few days before I caved and went back to Wonder Bread. At first, I felt bad about it, but then I had two epiphanies. First, just because the Israelites didn't want to stop at a Panera on the way home doesn't mean the rest of us should suffer for their impatience. Secondly, I found a loop hole - Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement. On Yom Kippur, Jews fast for 24 hours to atone for their sins. After that period of time, they are good to go for another year. Take that, matzo! I so should have been a lawyer.

Like divine intervention, it all became so clear: 8 days of matzo or 24 hours of fasting? Even W can understand that type of fuzzy math. As for me, I was home free...and continue to be as Yom Kippur is the one Jewish holiday of the year that I do observe. Well, except for that time two years ago when I was in Vegas and forgot, but seriously, what the hell was I supposed to do? Atone for my sins...in Sin City? That would be awkward.

Every year, my family celebrates the first night of Passover with a big dinner at my Aunt and Uncle's home a few towns away. For the purposes of this blog post, let's refer to them as Auntie Em and Uncle Tom (not necessarily their real names). For the most part, this get together is one of the most miserable days of my life. Consider:

• There are anywhere from 15-25 people cramped in a kitchen that is more suited for 10 dwarfs. Once you sit down, don't expect to get up for hours.
  
• In my family, the grand total of people who are even remotely interested in our religion is? One. You guessed it...Auntie Em, who insists that everyone in attendance take part in the ritual Seder reading, especially the 4 questions. Other than Auntie Em, no one else truly enjoys this, especially as it's another 30-45 minutes that we are wedged into our chairs at the table. Did I mention that this is done before we get to eat?
• Auntie Em is a wonderful person, but she might be the world's worst cook. I'm not sure if she simply doesn't care or somehow thinks that what she makes is actually, you know, edible. Either way, it's brutal. When what you make is consistently dry, overcooked and borderline tasteless, don't you think it's time to maybe stop winging it and perhaps open a recipe? If you're Auntie Em, apparently not.
  

Add all of this up and I've had it. A couple of months ago, Jenn and I were out to dinner with my Uncle Eliot and his wife Marta (different people; real names). After a couple of cocktails, Eliot and I had enough - we weren't going to Passover dinner because life is too short to spend a night being miserable. It was time to put our foot down; lay down the law; cowboy up...that kind of thing. We talked about heading to Federal Hill in Providence for a night of excessive amounts of Italian food and wine. Marta had a commitment that night and wasn't going to Passover dinner anyway, and Jenn was going to Passover - mostly because I told my mother and grandmother that she would be there. So, the plan was made. Passover dinner was out...liberation, pasta and wine was in.

Until Eliot bailed hours beforehand.

I had a feeling he would. Both my mother and grandmother laid on the guilt when I informed them of my decision. It's either my greatest strength or greatest weakness, but once my mind is made up, it is very rarely going to be changed. As for Eliot, he folded faster than France. My 82 year old grandmother - who ranks just behind Hitler, Kim Jong Il and the Iron Sheik in generating propaganda - had him quaking in his boots.

And so, Passover dinner came and went. Everyone from the family was there, with the exception of myself, who hightailed it to a friend's house to watch a Bruins playoff game....just as Jenn was getting home (it seemed like a good idea at the time).

While Jenn eventually forgave me, I haven't heard from anyone else in the family, meaning one of two things. Either they got over it quickly and realized that it wasn't a big deal. Or they hate me and I've been disowned (Stacey, tell your mom I could be in the market for a new family).

Regardless, I wouldn't expect to attend any future Passover dinners. Like the Israelites who left Egypt, I've tasted freedom, and it most certainly did not taste like overcooked turkey. It did, however, taste an awful lot like pepperoni pizza.

Besides, I've somehow compared my grandmother to Hitler. What else needs to be said?

Rules Of The Road

I was going to invite my friend Mark to "guest" blog on today's topic (lousy drivers), but reconsidered for two reasons:

First, in writing the post, Mark would likely get so worked up and angry that he would end up muttering vulgarities to himself, and whomever he happens to walk by, for the next 3 days. I am not kidding. Secondly, commenting on what he would want as his last meal, it took 937 words for Mark to realize that he needed to give it more thought. I fear that if I let him write about bad drivers, the resulting manifesto would make the Lord of The Rings trilogy seem like a children's book.

First, the obligatory disclosure - I have a lead foot. I believe 80 is the new 55. I do not drive recklessly, but I do drive aggressively and believe that the best defense is a good offense. Of course, I also believe that Eli Manning is the antichrist, so my beliefs should be taken with a grain of salt.

And with that said, it is astounding to me just how many terrible drivers there are on the road. These people are a menace to themselves and surrounding motorists. It's a broad spectrum of offenses - from a failure to understand the basic rules of the road to making inexplicably idiotic maneuvers. How do I react? Well, I will simply say this - if I was exposed to an overdose of gamma rays instead of the mild-mannered Bruce Banner, I would spend 95% of my driving life as a big green guy with an attitude problem. Instead, I spend 95% of my driving life as a bald, pasty-white guy with an attitude problem.

Why so cranky, you ask? Well, it's because I am wired that way. But if you are looking for specific examples, here are 8 things I have seen just in the past week or two (in no particular order of importance):

• Driving too slowly in the left lane. How slow is too slow? If you are not passing cars in the middle lane, that is too slow. If the car behind you is virtually sitting on your bumper, that is too slow. If you look in the rear view mirror and the driver of the car behind you seems to be screaming at no one and making odd distorted body movements that may include the extension of a middle finger, that is too slow. Oh, and I really appreciate it when you vacate the left lane AFTER I pass you. That's always helpful.

• Pickup trucks in the left lane. If you drive a pickup truck, I don't care how good of a driver you think you are. You should not be in the left lane. Do truck companies affix a warning label to the dashboard of pickups, warning drivers that going more than 60 mph may result in severe pubic itching? It certainly seems so. If you own a pickup, I'd like you to do 2 things. First, read the paragraph above. Second, get the hell out of the left lane.

• Swerving across 2, 3, 4 lanes at 70 mph because you didn't realize your exit was fast approaching. Hey, it happens to all of us - we don't realize how quickly the exit is coming up, so we risk life and limb to avoid traveling another 2 miles to take the next exit and turn around. Of course, most of us would rather sit in a 14-car line at the drive-thru than actually get out of the car and walk inside Dunkin Donuts. In both instances, common sense should prevail. And for those of you who care, milk and 2 sweet-n-lows.
  

• Changing lanes for no apparent reason. One of my personal favorites. I'll be humming down the highway, only to come up on the dillweed (copyright Stacey Holifield, 2008) in the Dodge Neon who is doing 60 in the left lane. So, with nobody in the middle lane, I start to pass....and almost plow into the dufus who was driving in the right lane with nobody in front of him, but who realizes that 88 virgins await him in heaven if only he will move into the middle lane....right now. Seriously, just shoot me.

• Slowing down significantly when passing a state trooper who pulled someone else over. Yup, your worst fears are about to be realized. Even though you're only driving about 10 mph over the speed limit, the trooper who is writing someone else a ticket is going to notice you, ditch the other guy and decide that it is you who is the bane of humanity's existence. I especially love it when you speed back up again, usually going even faster than before, thinking you've outsmarted the law. Good for you.

• Choosing the wrong lane at the red light. So you're approaching an intersection with 2 lanes. There's no one in front of you in either lane, there is no "No Turn on Red" sign, AND...you are planning to continue straight through the intersection when the light turns green. Which lane do you choose? Why, the one on the right! Of course you do...you f@!#ing motherf*!&ker. I hope you get stuck behind a pickup that is going 20 in a 40 zone.
  

• The Fast Lane meltdown. You're approaching the toll plaza and do not have a Fast Lane, EZ-Pass or any other type of transponder. But wait! Only at the very last second do you realize that somehow, you are in the Fast Lane! What do you do? Why, you come to a complete stop, put on your blinker and wait for some kind soul in the next lane to let you in. This despite the fact that the Fast Lane signs and road markings are visible approximately 17 miles before the toll plaza.
  

• Not using the blinker. So you're cruising down the highway at 80 mph in the right lane and need to get in the middle lane to pass the pickup in front of you that, for a change, is actually driving in the correct lane. Meanwhile, I'm in the left lane and about to get into the middle lane because the Soccer Mom in the minivan and on the phone is doing 55. While I, most courteous of all drivers, signal my intention to change lanes by using my blinker, you believe that blinkers are for wimps and take it upon yourself to cruise into the middle lane with no warning whatsoever. Our cars come about 3.2 inches of touching, when I back off, let you take the space and quickly proceed to spaz out, tailgating you, flashing you my high beams, threatening to castrate your pet goldfish....and you can't for the life of you understand why I am carrying on.
  

I could go on, but not only are you probably bored silly, you get the point. However, if you are guilty of any of these offense, I would kindly ask you to stop. As in, surrender your license and start taking the bus. Or a big-wheels.

Yo!

So how do I keep this blog updated on a frequent basis? Easy...show videos! This way, I don't have to actually come up with credible, original thoughts. God bless you, YouTube.

And speaking of the Pennsylvania primary, when I came across this video - which gives the Rocky treatment to Barack and Hillary - it became my sacred duty to share with you, my adoring public. Enjoy:

FREEDOM!

There is an old saying in my head: Jesus taketh away and Jesus giveth. At least that's how it has played out since we moved into the parsonage. There can be no doubt, I may be one of the luckiest idiots on earth...and certainly the most fortunate Jew in Weymouth - not only do I get to live off The Lord's dime, but even more improbably, Jenn hasn't thrown me out yet (don't worry, between now and the apocalypse, there's plenty of time).

Still, for all the good things that have happened since we moved last August, weighing extremely heavily on my broad and charming shoulders has been the fact that my maiden voyage into the real estate market did not play out exactly as I had hoped – which is probably what the Captain of the Hindenburg thought when he started to smell smoke. Clearly, this tends to happen when one buys at the very height of the bubble. In fact, I am reasonably certain that signing the closing papers in 2005 with my pen actually caused the bubble to burst, so there is a good chance I started to lose value in my home before I actually left the lawyer's office.

Anyway, we arrived at the parsonage with some excess baggage, in the form of a personal loan needed to cover the loss on the condo. How much, you ask? Well, almost enough to buy one of these. It was my own fault, really. In a rush to buy a condo, I sorta, kinda, maybe didn’t pay attention to the fact that the town was a hellhole and wasn't close to either a T station or any major highways. Naturally, I couldn't wait to move in a couple years earlier. In a related story, I have some shares of Epilady and Skybus that I'm looking to unload. Any takers?

6 months and 10 days after we started plowing all of our resources into beheading the monster, we’re done. I am not posting this out of arrogance. I understand how fortunate we are to be in this situation, but since we moved, I've been constantly reminded of how I failed in the real-estate market and it didn't feel particularly good.

But if you'll humor me, I am going to enjoy the accomplishment for one day, because after today, while I bask in the glory provided by Mr. The Christ, a perfect storm is brewing within my family. My uncle and I have decided to boycott Passover dinner this weekend. Stay tuned.

Got Food?

(WARNING: audience participation requested)

I'm a bit of a couch potato. Always have been and probably always will be, although I don't feel as guilty now that I actually exercise. It's not that I don't like to get out and about, but for me, relaxation is plopping down on the sectional, feet propped up on the ottoman, watching the high-def big screen...ideally with a beer or cocktail (and pizza) in hand.

Although Jenn and I have about 391 channels at our disposal, one channel reigns supreme.

Wait for it....

Wait for it....

Yep, the Food Network...and if you didn't get the foreshadowing, then you obviously don't watch this:



Food Network probably makes up close to 50% of our TV viewing, which is curious for a couple of reasons. First, because I typically handle the remote, meaning that I'm not watching under duress from Jenn. And before you start thinking about how much of a control freak I am, here's how it works in Casa de Jesus: I handle the remote when I am home and Jenn handles it when I am not home. Considering that I can either be home or not home, this means that we each handle the remote 50% of the time. So there.

Secondly, I probably wouldn't eat 75% of the food that gets made on the various shows. I have a rather limited palate and classify myself as a "meat and potatoes...and Italian and Quiznos" kind of guy. I don't like seafood, many vegetables, lamb, some pork, most anything considered fusion, and Democrats. However, I enjoy watching the best of the best at work. Plus, in HD pretty much anything, even frogs legs looks delicious.

(Note: I am pretty sure Jenn is hotter for Giada than I am, so I feel no guilt linking to her photo.)

Sometimes, when watching Rachel Ray make a 17-course dinner in under 30 minutes, I'll think of the hypothetical "what would I have if I had only one meal left on earth?" question. Even being the picky eater that I am, it's a tough choice:

A visit to the middle of nowhere for outstanding ribs? Stay local for the best veal saltimbocca that money can buy? A trip to Antonio's for ridiculously yummy pizza? Or, the best comfort food of all time?

If you know me at all, then you know the answer is none of the above. If I had one meal left on earth, it would be a hunk of manly beef (stop snickering Stacey). Specifically, the Del Frisco's Double Eagle - a 26 ounce, bone-in strip steak that is as close to heaven as I am ever going to come (Jenn putting in a good word will not help). Add a serving of mac and cheese, and I will go a happy man.

And now it's your turn. If you had one meal left, what would it be? I would ask everyone who reads this to leave a comment. There is no wrong answer...if you would choose to have a can of chunky soup, well then, fine. You're a bit odd, but then again, you're not the one whose last meal would cost $150. Feel free to mix and match: i.e., a Big Mac and pepperoni pizza.

I'm asking for comments for two reasons. First, it's a fun topic and will be interesting to see the diversity in people's tastes. Secondly, it will help me start to get an idea of how many suckers, um, I mean friends, actually waste their time reading this blog.

It's easy to leave a comment. Simply click on the "comment" hyperlink at the top of this post and type up an answer in the text box. If you don't have a Blogger account, select the "name/URL" option and type in your first name...for URL, just type a period or dash.

Look forward to reading the responses. As for me, I am off to find my favorite candy bar.

I stand corrected...

My plane ride home from the west coast did not crash, was not piloted by Ted Striker, nor did it land in scenic Rutland, Vermont (although when your plane does mistakenly land in Rutland, be sure to visit the Hathaway Farm Corn Maze). However, it was likely the most memorable flight I've ever been on.

The following is a true story:

1:30 a.m. (Eastern Time): Boarded Jetblue flight 476 bound from Oakland to Boston. The flight attendants announced that the flight would be full, but for about 20 minutes, I was alone in the aisle seat. Approximately 1 minute before the door was closed, 2 passengers came on board and...sauntered down to the empty seats next to me. Of course. Let's call this Jon's Law of Flight. If I had a dollar for every time I thought I had some extra room, only to have my seatmates board the plane at the last minute...well, I could afford to fly something ritzier than JetBlue.

Joining me were a couple in their late 20's. Hippiesh-looking guy with long beard & wool cap takes the window. Normal looking woman in Red Sox gear takes the middle.

2:00 a.m.: We're airborne, but in one of the most tragic announcements since the production of Cocoon 2, we're told that the satellite on the plane is out, meaning no TVs. I plug in my noise-canceling headphones to block out most of the cabin noise and try to get some shuteye.

3:00 a.m.: It's not working. I'm restless, I'm tired, the headphones are doing their job, but I am not asleep, nor am I approaching anything close to sleep. And now I'm starting to hear faint whispers coming from a gentleman sitting behind me. He's stirring, he's shifting, he's muttering to himself, "oh man...oh God..." over and over. Good times.

3:30 a.m.: Hippy-dude from the window seat gets up to go to the bathroom. I'm mildly annoyed. If you are on a redeye and not sitting in the aisle seat, it is your solemn vow and responsibility to drain the bladder before you get on the plane.

3:40 a.m: Hippy dude returns. I once again close my eyes and within a few minutes, the muttering from behind me begins again. Except it's not coming from behind me, and never had been..it's coming from the Hipster in the window seat. I look over and he's rocking, shifting, muttering. Not sure if he's in the beginning stages of a breakdown, but my antenna are starting to go up.

3:42 a.m.: Mr. The Hippy grabs a plastic bag and proceeds to throw up. Violently. Repeatedly. Each time louder than the last. Even with the noise-canceling headphones on, I am unsettled by what's happening about 2 feet from me. His companion has her hands over her face, obviously horrified. At about the 6th hurl, when I am starting to wonder just how bad this is going to smell, someone behind us pushes the flight attendant call button. A few seconds later, the flight attendant shows up and escorts Mr. Vomit to the bathroom in the back.

Where he remained, locked inside, until AFTER we landed more than 3 hours later.

Strangely enough, this wasn't the most interesting part of the flight.

3:45 a.m.: Sensing that the hippy's girlfriend is traumatized, I try to strike up a conversation and make sure she is OK. Turns out that she is not his girlfriend, just his roommate. She tells me that Ralph Hurler has a serious genetic stomach disorder that sometimes causes him to throw up for hours at a time. His brother and father also have it, but unlike his family members, who have learned to control it...our seat buddy employs a radical approach: do not see a doctor, do not take medication, do not eat more than a bite or two of food all day. Oh, and drink liberally. Within 15 seconds, my sympathy for this guy completely vanishes, although I wonder if his diet plan has its advantages over my daily 7-mile runs. Whatever.

Noticing the woman is in Red Sox clothes, I ask if she flew out for the games. Turns out she did. Also turns out that she may be the most crazed Red Sox fan on earth. Think Jimmy Fallon's character in Fever Pitch and multiply that by about 9. Olivia is her name and she is a 30 year-old bartender at Kennedy's in downtown Boston. Apparently, Olivia attends an average of about 75 Red Sox games every year, at least half of which are on the road. She estimates that she spends more than $10,000 every year on Sox games, plane tix, travel, etc.

In her travels, she has befriended a Sports Illustrated writer (who is taking her to Opening Day on Tuesday), spooked Tom Warner at a recent fan event and attended every playoff game in 2004, 2005 and 2007. Her career choice is not by accident - being a bartender brings in good money and a schedule flexible enough to go to any home or road game that she desires.

A couple of other tidbits to give you an idea of this woman: she is completely incapable of having a rational discussion about the Sox - they can do no wrong and just might win every remaining game this year (oops); despite being reasonably attractive, Olivia has had just 3 boyfriends in her adult life, nothing steady since 2004 and does not date during the season; oh...and one more thing...which I did not think was even possible: she talks so much and so fast that a certain ex-girlfriend seems shy by comparison.

Needless to say, between the vomiting seatmate and the cartoonish Sox Fan, I didn't even try to sleep for the remainder of the flight. I'm still trying to comprehend how someone can devote that much of their life to a sports team.

Anyway, should you find yourself in the city looking for a place to imbibe, hop into Kennedy's, ask for Olivia and tell her Jon from the plane sent you.

The last week...

No, the great blog experiment has not ended. I've had an exceptionally busy week where I simply haven't had a chance to keep my immensely unknown site updated. Tell you more, you ask? Well, who am I to deprive you?

Friday, March 29: MANLY BEEF NIGHT. Get your mind out of the gutter (except you Stacey, you wouldn't be the same). Every year on our birthdays, my friend Steve and I have a delicious and perilously expensive tradition of taking the other out to a top-tier steakhouse in the city for a 5,000 calorie meal. Last week did not disappoint: we dined at Ruth's Chris, where all of the food is bathed in a sea of butter right before it's brought to the table. Take that Lipitor! The bill was obscene - $65 less than dinner for 7 at a restaurant one night later - but the food and drink were top-shelf.

Saturday, March 30: It took longer than one might think, but between doing laundry (while my wife was getting loaded on Manishewitz in Jerusalem), packing, a few hours of work and shaving, my day was shot. Dinner with 6 friends at the Longhorn steakhouse was most enjoyable and educational. We as friends don't hang out much anymore, so I cherish the occasions on which we do...and I've learned firsthand that the food at Longhorn stinks.

Sunday, March 31: Flew to San Francisco (on time!), had lunch with my oldest friend Charles (sorry Tony - we grew up on the same street, but Charles lived closer, so I am certain I met him first), and traveled down to the Stewarts in Sunnyvale.

Monday, April 1: I lived the life of a Bay Area commuter. I took the train back and forth to Schwartz' San Francisco office, put in a reasonably full day and dined with the Stewarts at PF Changs in celebration of two birthdays - mine and Calvin's.

Tuesday, April 2: Worked a full day and had the pleasure of seeing the Sox squeak out a 2-1 victory against the A's. The McAfee Coliseum is largely unremarkable and one of several cookie-cutter stadiums that were built a few decades ago. On it's own, it was a fine place to watch a game, but it was lacking in character (but not lacking in garlic fries).

Wednesday, April 3: Sox 5, Oakland 0. Took the day off from work.

Thursday, April 4: A full day in the office and taking the redeye back to Boston.

Some thoughts:

• I very much enjoy the San Francisco office. It's 20 floors up in the middle of downtown. However, getting into the office 3 hours after my colleagues in Waltham results in a jam-packed workday where it takes 2 hours to catch up and 6 remaining hours to squeeze in 8 hours of work. No complaints...I love it out here.
• The people of San Francisco actually obey walk signals. All week long, while the masses are waiting for the signal to turn, I'm running through the crosswalk. I wonder if they secretly hope I get plunked, just to teach me a lesson.
• Travel during this week has been eerily perfect. Which means my flight home will either crash, be piloted by Ted Striker (hint: Airplane!) or mistakenly land in Rutland, Vermont.
• Congrats to my 2nd oldest friend Tony for being hired as the newest mechanic for Comair. With the exception of your brother Rob, you dislike most of your family, so I am always around to accept the Comair friends and family travel pass.
• Outdoor hot tubs are most enjoyable, especially in the chilly air and with a glass of wine in hand.
• I miss my wife.
• Jenn too.

Sport Report

Before I get to my random musings on sports, please check out The Stace's blog post today. Despite leaning toward the right and pretending not to give a rat's tush about the environment, I absolutely agree with Stacey and all the other treehuggers out there.

Some sports thoughts:

If you have not yet seen it, check out the video of the hockey fight (the first 53 seconds) from Canada's junior league that took place the other day. Patrick Roy, one of the greatest goaltenders ever to play the game and coach of his son's team, orders his boy (also a goaltender) to beat the hell out of the opposing goalie, who was not at all interested in fighting. I have to admit, I burst out laughing when I first saw it, (keep an eye out for another player taking out the ref around the 28 second mark) but in all seriousness, what the hell was Roy the Elder thinking? Predictably, he's now in a lot of hot water. Then again, when it comes to fighting, Roy Sr. knows a thing or two.

Early thoughts on the Red Sox: their pitching better improve. It's only 2 games, so it's silly to even think about being worried at this point, but Dice-K and Lester continue to battle control problems, leading to very high pitch counts, which in turn leads to short outings and overtaxing the bullpen. Bottom line - their are legitimate health concerns for much of the starting rotation and if the Sox are to have any chance of repeating, their hurlers need to stay healthy.

I was in New Jersey for business the other day and wouldn't you know it, I drove right by Giants Stadium. Of course, a giant Super Bowl champions banner is hanging on the side of the building. I made myself stare at it for as long as I could. Therapeutic really, in that it reminded me that although the Pats were the best team in the league last year, the Giants were by far the better team on the field in Arizona. They earned that banner, fair and square. As far as the offseason roster moves (or lack thereof), I continue to trust Belichick and Pioli. They've certainly earned it. Wouldn't surprise me at all if something big is coming down the Pike.

Celtics - Not an NBA fan, but what's not to like? They could very well win it all this year. Amazing turnaround and great to see Boston reinvigorated as a hoops town.

Bruins - Way back in the day, there was no bigger Bruins fan than me. Today, I haven't watched a full game in probably 3 years. This is what happens when ownership decides that profits at all costs are more important that fielding a competitive team.

Keep an eye on my alma mater, the mighty UMass Minutemen, who have advanced to the NIT semi-finals. Two more wins and we can call ourselves the 66th best team in the country. Presumably, there are no hookers involved this time around.

164 days until kickoff.

Hillary or Obama?

Religion and politics - two topics that one would be wise to steer clear from at work, in a bar and probably, in blogs. Naturally, I'm digging right in. Today, politics:

I am technically "unenrolled," but do tend to vote republican. OK, I most always vote republican. OK, every single time, I vote republican. Not that it matters in the Bay State, which has gone democratic in every election since Fred Flintstone was elected Grand Poobah. That said, I am fascinated at the battle taking place on the democratic side. No matter who secures the nomination, either an African-American or female will be up for President, and not only is that pretty neat, it's about time. Female Jewish Muslim Transgendered Dwarf African-Americans? Your day is coming...

With regards to the two Democratic candidates, here is one fairly uninformed man's opinion:

Hillary - Not a fan. Clearly, her objective is to convince the public that she is our savior. First it was the "It's 3 a.m., your children are asleep..." ad. But what really got my attention was the on-screen text from an earlier TV ad that ran during the N.H. primary:

"A nation at war, troubles at home. America at a crossroads, demands a leader with a steady hand who will weather the storms, solve our problems, rebuild our middle class..and renew our greatness."

Wow, really? Hillary can solve our problems, rebuild our middle class and renew our greatness? All by herself?

Hillary touts decades of political experience, despite the fact that she has held public office only a few years longer than her opponent. Perhaps this is the experience she is referring to: less than a week into her tenure as First Lady, she dove head first into her attempt to reform the nation's healthcare system. Although I commend her effort, she was not successful and I am hard pressed to remember another cause that Hillary publicly championed while hubby was President.

Thankfully, I didn't have to remember, as the records of Hillary's time as First Lady have just been released. Those records show that Hillary privately lobbied for NAFTA, which business experts at the time feared would result in the loss of tens of thousands of jobs to Mexico. It passed and President Clinton declared it a great victory. Today, Presidential wanna-be Hillary Clinton wants NAFTA to be re-negotiated, as it has resulted in the loss of tens of thousands of jobs to Mexico. Of course she does.

Obama - Seems to be the anti-Hillary. Doesn't make grandiose promises or tout experience that isn't there. Talks to people, not at them. Last week, describing Obama's terrific speech on race relations, The Daily Show's Jon Stewart said, "And so, on March 19 at 11 a.m., a prominent American politician spoke to Americans about race as though they were adults."

When it comes to politics, I am as skeptical as they come. Whether they are candidates or elected officials, I believe that most politicians pander to the masses, telling them what they want to hear, not what they need to hear. Most of the time, it's one promise after another, just about all of which go unfulfilled. But to me, Obama just comes across differently....more honest, more direct, more real.

Clearly, I am making sweeping generalizations. Both have no doubt done good, and both have no doubt made silly promises that cannot possibly be met. But here is where I differentiate the two - It's very debatable just how much Washington can be changed, but for the first time in my adult life, in Obama I see a politician who I think actually has a chance to doing something about it.

That said, Democrats like to raise taxes and Republicans like to lower them, so I'll probably vote for McCain.

"We'll leave the light on for you..."

Remember that tag line? Spoken by your friend and mine, Tom Bodett, referring to Motel 6, the Four Seasons of budgetary accommodations. The irony in that catchphrase is that rooms at Motel 6 look much better without lights. I've had the privilege of staying in a few Motel 6s in my life (I miss you Santa Fe....) and in all fairness, it did a nice job at filling a niche - a mostly clean and absolutely outdated room that offered affordable solace to budget-minded travelers. Certainly, one wouldn't opt to stay in a Motel 6 for the ambiance, but that was the point. Not only did Motel 6 provide perfectly fine hospitality at discount rates, but it also knew its place in the grand scheme of things. It was OK to poke fun of Motel 6, mostly because...it's Motel 6!

So, you can imagine my surprise when I read this article in the USA Today. Actually, screw the article; all you need to know is this:



Notice the TV in the upper right on the first picture? 32-inch flat screens, in every room. Yup, Motel 6 has gone chic, and we as a society are poorer for it. Well, actually, we're not - the average price for a room will stay at around $45. Hell, if all of the Motel 6's are going to look like this, then they should absolutely leave the light on.

I LOVE this place!

Today is my birthday - 34 , old enough to start thinking about prostate exams - which means another year that I get to watch the idiots in the state legislature make complete asses of themselves. I refer, of course, to the decision not to support casinos in the state.

It goes without saying that I am in favor, as I enjoy the occasional foray into Connecticut. However, my irritation does not stem from a missed opportunity to turn a 90 minute drive into 45. It has to do with common sense - which apparently you cannot have if you wish to succeed in politics.

True story - casinos would bring thousands of construction jobs and tens of thousands of permanent jobs. The upfront licensing fees paid to the state would approach one billion dollars and the state's annual cut would be in the hundreds of millions of dollars. Annually. As in, every year.

True story - The economy isn't doing so well. Property taxes are going through the roof, towns don't have enough money to fund basic programs. The state keeps raising taxes and tolls just to meet basic needs...never mind thinking proactively.

True story - A few years ago, the Boston Globe sent a reporter down to Foxwoods on consecutive weekends to take note of the license plates in the parking lots. More than half came from Massachusetts. Which means that every day, thousands, or tens of thousands of gamblers from Massachusetts are spending their money in Connecticut...and now Rhode Island. This isn't a matter of giving people another way to spend/lose money. They are already doing it and they will continue to do it. Just not here.

Ah, but the geniuses in the legislature, led by the esteemed Speaker of the House, Sal DiMasi, do not want to "import a casino culture of crime and problem gambling." Never mind that neither Ledyard nor Uncasville have deteriorated into crime-laden neighborhoods. In fact, with the money that Foxwoods and Mohegan contribute to the economy, new schools were built, new businesses opened to cater to the influx of visitors and property taxes have decreased. Funny how that works - don't let the facts stand in the way of your argument.

Of course, Speaker DiMasi wouldn't just turn away all of this state revenue without having a Plan B. Would he? Um..yes, apparently so. Uncle Sal hasn't come up with other means to generate this money - he just knows that casinos aren't the way to do it. Awesome.

Apparently, the legislature doesn't have a problem with all gambling. The Mass state lottery, long the most profitable lottery in the country, keeps rolling along. I guess it's OK to spend $100 on scratch tickets, keno and Megabucks, so long as you don't spend it on a slot machine. And to that end...good news! The state has drastically increased the number of places that can offer keno.

Good times.