Bad Parenting 101

Last night, I dined at The Melting Pot with several friends. It was an enjoyable evening, with an emphasis on "evening," as the meal lasted 3.5 hours. With that said, the person who invented the fondue business model ought to receive the Nobel Prize for economics, a heartfelt handshake for his or her brilliance, and a punch to the face.

What a racket. Diners pay through the nose so that they can eat melted cheese, dinner that they cook themselves and melted chocolate. There are no chefs at these restaurants, as there is nothing to actually cook. Instead, the kitchen is almost certainly populated by recent college grads who believe the first step on the arduous journey to becoming the next Iron Chef is to assemble salads and put shredded cheese in containers, which the waiters then throw into the burner at the table.

Needless to say, the next time you decide to get together for a fun-filled evening with your friends and are OK with not having enough money to pay this month's mortgage, I wholeheartedly endorse The Melting Pot.

Anyway, somewhere between the 2nd round of drinks and the salads that arrived after the entrees, came the always-soothing sounds of a young infant screaming his/her/its head off. Now, if you're like me - and be thankful you're not - you wouldn't think a fondue restaurant is an ideal place to bring a baby. Not only is there a higher risk for injury with sharp utensils, hot oil, scalding burners built into the table, etc... meals at a place such as this tend to be on the longer side. Say, 3.5 hours long.

However, if this was your thought process, you would be wrong. At least one enterprising parent decided last night that the proper place to dine with a baby at 9 p.m. on a Saturday evening was, in fact, The Melting Pot. Now, to be fair, the screaming did not last long. I'm not sure if this is because the person realized what a poor judgment they exhibited and quickly left, or because they dunked junior in the pot of bubbling oil. Either way, the crying quickly subsided and all was well.

Almost immediately, the conversation at the table turned to other inappropriate places that parents bring their babies to. As for me, I can recall at least the following firsthand:

- A 10 p.m. rated R movie
- On that note, any movie
- A Cirque du Soleil show in Vegas
- On that note, Vegas
- A high-end restaurant
- Wrestling matches

I'd like to say that whenever I see or hear a crying baby at places such as this, I shake my head in disbelief, but I'd be lying. At this point, I am more surprised when I go to an inappropriate baby venue and don't hear any wailing.

However, the question must be asked: What the hell are these people thinking? Seriously, what could possibly lead a person to believe that it is OK to bring a 6 month old to a movie, where it needs to remain quiet for 2 hours. Are they being selfish? Do they simply not care? Can they not afford a babysitter? Are they mourning their crushing defeat on "Are you Smarter than a Fifth Grader?"

At the same time, why don't inappropriate baby venues have policies - and people to enforce them - that would prevent this type of situation in the first place? For instance, with the exception of 10 a.m. "mommy" movies and encore performances of Saw IV ("this is what's going to happen to you if you don't stop crying!"), children under the age of 4 should not be allowed inside.

To that end, here are three rules that should be adopted worldwide, effective yesterday: restaurants that do not have a children's menu should not allow admittance to kids under 10. Anyone who brings a stroller to Vegas should be immediately driven out to the middle of the desert and left for dead (the baby can be FedEx'd back home). Flights longer than 1 hour should be equipped with NyQuil or marijuana to ensure a quiet cabin. Etc.

(Editor's note: the aforementioned suggestions apply to all children, everywhere in the world, unless your last name is Stewart and you live in an Eichler in Sunnyvale, Calif. If that is the case, I love you dearly and you can do no wrong.)

Sure, you might think I am going a little over the top. But you'd be wrong. That won't officially happen until I publish the official rules for eliminating children from maternity wards.

This and That...

A few things on my mind:

1) I couldn't help but notice that my last blog post, which was comprised of one word, generated 4 comments (not counting the one I left). I also couldn't help but notice that 97% of my other blog posts, which are slightly longer than one word, do not generate anywhere close to 4 comments. Go figure.


2) Restaurant hypocrisy is a growing problem in our country. OK, so maybe it's not as serious as the financial meltdown, the mom with 14 children or the demise of my NCAA brackets, but it's still a problem.

This (as in, click on the word 'this') is what I had for dinner last night. It is the cowboy ribeye from Ruths' Chris steakhouse and yes, it tastes every bit as good as it looks (that yellow stuff under the steak? Sizzling butter. Mmmmm.). It is also enormous - 22 ounces of the best beef you'll ever have. The cost? $47. And that is only for the steak. Sides are extra. Are you shocked? Outraged? Appalled? Probably.

This (as in, click on the word 'this') is the east coast halibut at No. 9 Park, one of Boston's most trendy restaurants. It is not enormous - I'm guessing 6 ounces. The cost? $39. However, to be fair, it does appear that at least one forkful of salad greens is included. Shocked? Outraged? Appalled?

Probably not, because for some reason, overpriced steakhouses get a bad rap, while overpriced "seen and be seen" restaurants are perfectly OK, even though the amount of food is unlikely to satisfy the appetite of a pet rock. I was at the bar at No. 9 Park last night, for a cocktail following the steak dinner. A few seats down, a couple were sharing a fried oyster appetizer. Total number of oysters? 4. Total cost $19.

It might just be me, but if you are going to splurge on dinner, wouldn't you rather have way too much than not nearly enough?

The defense rests, but only because I am still full from that massively good ribeye. Otherwise, I'd probably go on for at least 2 more hours.


3) Facebook status complaining is a growing problem in our country. OK, so maybe it's not as serious as restaurant hypocrisy, but it's still a problem.

We all have our universe of Facebook friends, and within each universe are at least a handful of people who see their status update as a vehicle to bitch and moan continuously about everything that is going wrong that day, that week, that life. While I assume the idea is to elicit sympathy, I wonder if these people stop to think about how others perceive the nonstop whining. I perceive it as equivalent to the whining of a 3 year old. Not only do these people sound pathetic, it is downright annoying.

My solution? Each person is allowed 2 whines per week on Facebook. Violation means loss of access to Facebook for the remainder of the week. Or electrocution by keyboard.

If these people want to complain incessantly, get a blog.


4) Me being almost 40 is a growing problem in our country. OK, so maybe it's not as serious as nonstop Facebook complaining, but it's still a problem.

And I guess to be fair, I am technically 35, although I am now closer to 40 than I am to 30. You know the saying "age is just a number?" I agree...age is just a number. It's the number of years a person has been alive...and 35 is a bit on the high side for me.

With that said, life is pretty good at 35. Sure, I have no hair. And sure, I get up at least once per night to pee. And sure, I can't stay awake past 8:30 anymore. But I still have my health, a ridiculously high number of close friends, a great wife, an awesome dog, a sweet set of wheels, a job that I don't mind going to every day...and a pretty cool lifestyle.

And to all of you who help make that happen (I am looking at you, JC), thanks.

Ugh.

Me llamo: El Porko

So I am fat. Ish.

OK, maybe not by the literal definition of the word, but more so than I've been in a while. And I am pretty sure that I'm not entirely thrilled with it.

Quick background recap: I spent most of my post-college years with a significant case of abdominal overhang. Mostly due to the fact that I consumed mostly unhealthy foods. A large volume of unhealthy foods. Oh, and I never exercised, which I understand can be bad. Nonetheless, a pretty young minister - who was obviously taking part in a seminary school curriculum on pity - agreed to get married. Inspired, and fearful of losing out on a free house, I decided to drop 30 lbs before the wedding.

So I did. And you know what? It was a pretty simple. I ran 7 miles every weekday and significantly cut back on the amount of food that I ate. Yeah, it sucked getting up every morning at 5 a.m., but that's life. Fast forward a few months, and I am standing at the alter, chugging down the most disgusting wine ever produced, exactly 31 lbs. lighter. I wasn't thin - I'll never be thin - but I looked pretty good. No abdominal overhang.

And now a digression, where I will almost certainly ruffle a few feathers (at least you've been warned). If you are looking to drop some pounds (and not everyone is), eat better and exercise. That's it. There is no secret formula. There is no secret diet. There is no cheating. It's amazing how many people want to look better but are unwilling to put in the work. If you are unwilling to put in the work, don't complain. You have nobody to blame but yourself.

(And if you suffer from some type of physiological condition that renders the above advice moot, please disregard.)

Anyway, for well over a year, I was within 5 pounds of my wedding weight because I kept up my exercise routine - 7 miles per day, every weekday. At that rate, burning 1,100 calories per day on the treadmill, I could eat most anything I wanted (within reason).

However, starting last summer I became a little less maniacal at the idea of getting up so early. And if I am going to run, it will be first thing in the morning - the rest of my day is too busy. 5 days per week became a pretty regular 4 days per week, and then my travel schedule picked up, which meant some weeks I would run only 1 or 2 days per week. And lately, I find it easier than ever to come up with a reason not to get up so early - meaning that most weeks, I am on the treadmill two or three times.

7 miles per day, three times per week, is still pretty good except for one minor detail - I am a mild-to-moderate glutton; at dinner it's two full servings of whatever Jenn makes. If we order pizza, I can easily scarf down a large by myself. Etc, etc.

So it is no surprise that over the past several months, I've been inching up to 10 lbs or so over my wedding weight....and am now getting closer to 15 then to 10.

And I have no one to blame but myself.

On the bright side, I still look and feel a lot better than I did in the past. Plus, I can run 7 miles without huffing and puffing, so that's good.

On the not-so-bright side, I've fallen off the wagon. I liked the way I used to look and don't quite like the way I look now.

So it's gut-check time: re-commit myself, put in the work and get down to my fighting weight? Or keep with the status quo and stay in reasonably good shape with a little softness in the old belly.

I'm leaning heavily towards getting back on the wagon - I will feel better about myself, I will look better and most importantly, I won't have to pay for new pants (once a Jew...).

Of course, I'll probably wait until after my upcoming birthday - and the continuing tradition of manly beef night.

The Boob Toob

I watch TV. A lot of TV. Part of the reason is that I am a couch potato. Part of the reason is that I live in the burbs and when the weather is lousy, what else is there to do? However, now that Vegas is around, I will certainly get out when the weather improves. Oh, and part of the reason is that I like TV.

I like to tell myself that my love of television was mostly due to my folks splitting when I was 6. Of course, I also use that excuse as the main reason why I don't like vegetables. Make of that what you will.

Having a gigantic high-def TV doesn't help. Nor does it help to have a spouse that frequently works nights and weekends. Yes, that's right: I am now blaming my wife. Make of that what you will.

TV has received a bad rap. Sure, little kids should be doing their homework or playing outside rather than watching cartoons all day. And sure, adults should find the time to exercise, eat right and be good little Hulkamaniacs, but for many, TV is a valuable escape vehicle that enables people to briefly disregard the worries and stresses of everyday life. And rumor has it that everyday life seems to be high on worries and stresses as of late.

Think back to the famous TV shows of your day. When I was old enough to watch TV that didn't involve a Muppet, the Dukes of Hazzard was still popular. Cheers was just getting off the ground. And way back when, the show that followed Cheers was often just as funny. The A-Team ruled the world...and defied the laws of common sense: 402,282 bullets fired; zero people killed.

Due to the rapid proliferation of reality TV, there are so many terrible programs on the air right now, that it's sometimes hard to remember some of the truly awful shows of the past. Anyone remember Greatest American Hero? (bonus points if you can name the singer of the show's theme song without looking. Answer below.) Mr. Belvedere? ALF?? Manimal??? Oh yes, a crime-fighting crusader who can morph into any animal he wishes. Now that I think of it, I'd rather watch that than just about anything on MTV, so that's saying something.

Today, despite the widespread perception that TV will rot the brain, most of what I watch is non-scripted, which means that it must be educational.

My current weekly schedule:

Sunday:
Extreme Makeover, Home Edition - Two reasons why this show rocks. First, it's important to see that goodness still exists (even if it is for ratings). Second, it's fun to guess how many seconds into the show it takes Jenn to start crying.

High Stakes Poker - Real players playing poker for real money. An awful lot of it. As in, tens or hundreds of thousands, per hand.

Iron Chef America - Sure, I wouldn't eat 10% of what is made, but these guys know their stuff.

Monday:
Football (Seasonal)
Baseball (Seasonal)
Basketball (Seasonal)
Hockey (Seasonal)

Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives - One of my favorite shows. Guy Fieri might have one of the best jobs on earth. Right behind the guy who starred in Manimal.

Tuesday:
Fringe - Yep, another sci-fi show, but it's really funny. And most often, really gross.

Wednesday:
LOST - Best show on TV.

Throwdown with Bobby Flay: He became a TV whore, but it's pretty neat to see Flay beat local favorites at their own specialty, with only a day of practice.

Thursday:
Survivor - The show is in it's 18th edition, and the contestants make the same dumb decisions every time. You'd think that when playing for $1 million, they'd do a little homework.

CSI - I miss Grissom, but Morpheus has settled in nicely.

Friday:
Terminator (Sarah Connor Chronicles) - This show is getting killed in the ratings; too bad.

Dog Whisperer - Not only do I watch this show, Vegas sometimes will sit on the couch and stare at the TV for the entire hour. I'm serious. Ask Jenn. Better yet, ask Vegas.

Battlestar Galactica - Another outstanding show that wraps up in a couple of weeks.

Miscellaneous:
Daily Show/ Colbert Report - Far better than any other late night program. Guaranteed to have several laugh out loud moments every night. Tivo and watch on the weekends.

Deadliest Catch - It's strange: every episode is almost identical, but it's amazing to watch those guys do their job.

Phantom Gourmet - The program has poor production values, is shameless in plugging their own advertisers and the host is annoying as hell. But they focus mostly on food that will kill you, which makes it A-OK in my book.


Add it up and it comes to only 5 scripted programs for the entire week. However, it should be noted that most of these programs are DVR'd and not watched as they air. So while the rest of the cultured people are out and about - learning a new skill, indulging in a hobby, making the world a better place - I am settled comfortably on the couch furthering my understanding of fole gras and how giant slugs can crawl up a man's throat and out his mouth. Take that, you losers.

Answer: Joey Scarbury.