Kneeeeel Before Zod!

To my wife (Part III)...

2010-05-27T08:07:00.002-04:00

Hi honey - Remember that time you got really sick with that ridiculously rare neurological disorder and I flew home from to Vegas to be with you?

I flew home. From Vegas. You know, that place about 2,500 miles southwest of here with lots of lights that I happen to like? To be with you.

If that doesn't demonstrate my love for you, nothing will.

Happy anniversary. I love you.

All Hail The Spork!

2010-04-27T20:10:00.007-04:00

If you've ever had the good fortune of walking into a KFC, three things probably come to mind. First, there is a 50/50 chance that by the time you finish your meal, you will have dropped dead of a coronary (at least you'll die happy). Second, the odds are less than 50/50 that you will make it home before the Colonel's 11 secret herbs and spices give your intestines the cleansing of a lifetime. And C, you'll get to use a spork, perhaps mankind's most wondrous invention (just ahead of the Awesome Auger).

Ah, the spork. You think about it and you laugh. You say the word out loud and you laugh. But the joke is on you, my friend. I don't believe in much, but I have recently - as in today - come to the realization that the spork will one day save our planet.

First, a history lesson: The spork was patented by Mr. Samuel W. Francis of Newport, R.I. in 1874, although the word "spork" was not widely used until the early 1900's. Also of historical note is that for more than 100 years, nobody has taken the spork seriously (that is according to me).

And until 2003, I was a non-believer as well. And then I met my wife. Now sure, some of you might think I married Jenn because she is pretty, intelligent, can cook and is the only woman in the eastern time zone not to dump me. But you'd be wrong. When I met Jenn in 2003, she was living in a lovely slum in Cambridge with a couple of nice fellas. The kitchen was small, dirty and had ancient appliances. But the utensil drawer was stocked with sporks. Not only was it love at first bite (yeah, I went there), but it marked the beginning of my own personal greenification.

Which brings me to my point. Or something resembling a point. Have you noticed that it's all about conservation these days? Green this, green that. Something about carbon footprints. Not to mention our attempt to put those nice Arab folks out of business by trying to wean ourselves off their oil. But, if society is really about saving the planet, then why the hell are we manufacturing both forks and spoons? How many billions of dollars must be wasted on this redundancy? How many stainless steel and/or silver trees must die in order to feed the world's greed?

Make no mistake, the future is sporks. Consider KFC. Do you think coming up with new ways to kill their customers is cheap? Hardly. Research and development requires a multimillion dollar investment every year and because Colonel Sanders had the foresight and vision to stock his restaurants with sporks, more money could be allocated to the truly important things - like getting their gullible and increasingly obese customer base to shell out big bucks for this:

I know, genius. Now forget for a moment that the sporks at KFC aren't even sturdy enough to scoop mashed potatoes. They thought outside the box and are a better company for it. Beyond that, why haven't airlines embraced the spork? Back in the 1990s, American Airlines decided to eliminate one olive from their in-flight salads and by doing so, they saved a few hundred thousand dollars per year. Today, the airline industry collectively loses about a bajillion dollars a month. If they went the way of the spork, maybe they wouldn't have to charge passengers for the right to yawn.

How about schools? Thanks to an impressive run of sustained incompetence, every town in America is broke. Why are the schools wasting good money on silverware, especially with the slop that the cafeteria usually produces? Buy sporks and save a teacher's job.

I could go on, but I bet you wish I wouldn't. So spread the word far and wide. After nearly 140 years, the spork has arrived.

I suggest you enjoy them now before the government decides to tackle spork reform.

In Defense of Hockey

2010-04-19T20:41:00.007-04:00

There are a lot of things that mystify me in this world. For example:

1) Highway drivers who maintain a speed of 40 mph in the left lane
2) Religious extremists who believe that committing mass murder will pave the way to heaven
3) Democrats who spend money that they don't have...and then keep spending
4) Just what exactly my wife sees in me

And then there's this: why is hockey so relatively unpopular in the United States?

Hockey is by far the most exciting sport to watch from start to finish; it is faster paced than any other game; features as much hitting (probably more) than football; has more suspenseful, edge-of-your-seat moments than any other game; and is the the epitome of a team sport.

And yet it is a distant fourth among the four major sports.

Compare hockey to:

Football: Who doesn't love football? It has taken it's rightful place as our new national pastime (I hear Detroit may even get a team one day) but of the 60 minutes of game time, there is maybe 10 minutes of actual action. Each play lasts only a handful of seconds and after it is completed, the teams take a 30-45 second break.

Basketball: Lots to like about basketball, but the structure of the game makes it way too easy for players to mail it in (see Wallace, Rasheed; 2010). And lets be honest, the NBA has become playground ball. 4 players stand around while the "star" either drives the lane (1 on 4) or takes a ridiculous shot from 20 feet away. More importantly, any contact is deemed a foul which severely impedes the flow of the game. On top of that, NBA officiating...well, it's really bad. And everyone knows it. With the possible exception of the guy that runs the league.

Baseball: The best thing baseball has going for it is that it's played in warm weather. Oh, and 130 years of history. But mostly the weather.

The media will have you believe that hockey suffers because it is an expensive, niche sport played in cold weather climates. But hold on for a second...does it really matter if you as a fan actually played when you were younger? How many people played football growing up? And conversely, didn't everyone play soccer when they were a kid? Hell, only rich people play golf and that sport pulls in huge ratings on TV.

And as much as I would like to blame the media, I can't. ESPN aired hockey several nights per week for nearly 20 years and the ratings were anemic. First FOX and now NBC airs weekend Games of the Week and yet few people watch. What people do watch are the Olympics, which is hockey played at its best. The ratings for Olympic hockey, especially when the U.S. makes a deep run, are off the charts. But when the Olympics are over, there is virtually no carryover to the NHL. Of course, every 4 years I think that Ski Jumping will become our new national pastime, but not to be.

Goes without saying that the average NHL regular season game can't hold a candle to the Olympics. But the same holds true for any sport. And of the four major sports, even the hockey-shy media will acknowledge that the NHL playoffs are the best in the land. Every year, a decent number of games go into 2, 3 and even 4 overtimes...all of which are sudden death. Hell, most of regulation time is played as if it were sudden death.

So to any non hockey fan reading this, I issue this challenge. Turn on a playoff hockey game over the next 7 days and watch just one period. Just one. If that does not rope you in, then fine. You are a lost cause and clearly have no hope to contribute to humanity.

You know, the same humanity that would much rather watch cars driving in circles.

The Arrogance of Massachusetts Democrats

2010-01-24T12:56:00.005-05:00

Within the last couple of weeks, I've been told that through my status updates on Facebook, I've insulted the voters of Massachusetts and gloated in the aftermath of the Scott Brown Senate victory. I'm too negative - that if I really want to make my point, calling people "lemmings" is not the way to do it. I should focus on communicating my point of view, rather than kicking people while they are down.

Arighty then. Here goes:

I am registered as unenrolled, but characterize myself as fiscally conservative and socially moderate. Because fiscal issues are the most important to me, I tend to vote Republican. I find the Democrats' "tax and spend" philosophy to be absurd. Now, consider these facts:

There has not been a Republican U.S. Senator from Massachusetts in 31 years.
There has not been a Republican in the U.S. House of Representatives from Massachusetts in 14 years. There were two from 1993-1997. Before that, the most recent one was in 1983.
The Massachusetts legislature has been controlled by the Democrats for more than 40 years (and probably longer...I can't find the exact date online)
While there have been Republican governors in Massachusetts recently, they all faced a legislature where Democrats held a supermajority, meaning little to no chance of advancing their agenda.

Being anything other than Democrat in Massachusetts has meant that your voice has been irrelevant for decades. For myself, it has been this way for the duration of my voting life. For many more, it goes back much longer. When I vote in the Presidential election, I know that from an electoral standpoint, my vote is meaningless. However, I vote to exercise my constitutional right and to honor those that have died to provide democracy.

Pragmatically, I just don't get how/why Massachusetts is so blindly Democratic, especially on the state level. Whether you want to admit it or not, this state is a mess and a national political laughingstock (at least until last week).

One Speaker of the House after another resigns in shame; taxes continue to go up and numerous state agencies demonstrate their incompetence on a daily basis. And yet, Democrats continue to get elected.

Only Louisiana and Illinois rival Massachusetts for the level of corruption by our politicians. And yet, Democrats continue to get elected.

The will of the people through binding referendums (sales tax, tolls,death penalty, etc.) are ignored and dismissed by the state legislature. And yet, Democrats continue to get elected.

This state is broken. There is nobody out there - even Democrats - who will argue otherwise. And yet, Democrats continue to get elected.

And you wonder why I refer to people as lemmings.

But I get it. People vote along party lines. Democrats blindly vote from Democrats. And to be fair, Republicans do the same. But when you are in Massachusetts, voting for Republican is not a mindless activity...it is a vote for change. It is a plea for something different. Another direction.

Because after a while, when one group of people just aren't getting the job done, you usually give the other guys a chance. Except in Massachusetts.

To be sure, this has happened on the national level. And I am completely OK with it. The Republicans deserved their ass-kicking in 2008. People wanted to give the other guys a chance. Hell, even I almost voted for Obama. I didn't, but I thought long and hard about it - not because I believed in his policies - I don't - but because a new voice was needed.

Which takes us back to last week. The prevailing theory is that Martha Coakley's loss wasn't necessarily about her, but about the dissatisfaction with Obama's agenda. I am sure part of that is true. If you ask me, Obama and the Democrats screwed up - they took on too much too soon. The focus in the first year or two should have been on the economy, not advocating for a trillion dollar health care package with no discernible benefits to the average consumer. They needed to prove to the public that they could fix problems, not create them. And so far, they failed.

But let's not forget that after the primaries, Coakley had a 30 point lead over Brown. That lead was still in the double digits by Christmas. And here is where I finally get to make my point. I believe that political arrogance played a large role in Coakley's defeat. Put simply, she and her campaign team took the voters for granted. "Hey, I am a Democrat, Teddy was a democrat, Massachusetts is a blue state...therefore, I have this one in the bag."

So while Brown was out there campaigning nonstop, doing all of the right things, Coakley was in the Caribbean catching some rays. She famously scoffed at the notion of shaking hands outside of Fenway Park on New Year's Day before the Bruins game because it was too cold. Less than two weeks before the election, instead of pressing the flesh, she was in DC meeting with lobbyists. And then, when it was apparent she was in real trouble, the negative ads started. And they kept going. And then Clinton came to town. And then Obama. Where were they in November and December?

I think this arrogance was the tipping point. Voter anger with Washington had been building, but I believe it was this sense of entitlement on behalf of the Democrats that finally moved the needle. After decades and decades of being taken for granted, the voters had enough. The same towns that carried Obama in a landslide were voting for Brown by a rate of 2-to-1.

And when it was over, I was pleased that the people of this state finally grew a pair. By the time I got home on election night, the race had been decided. I was in a good mood. Finally Massachusetts allowed a different voice to be heard. Who knows, maybe there is hope after all...

And then I checked Facebook. Here is a sampling of what I saw:

"Teddy must be rolling over in his grave."
"I am ashamed of my state."
"What is wrong with you people?"

I realized that this arrogance wasn't confined just to Coakley and her team. Nope, many diehard Dems also felt slighted by the outcome. They also believed that it was divine right that Coakley would win. That the Democrats would win.

Forget about change. Disregard the fact that, in just one year, the Dems have squandered 8 years worth of goodwill. Ignore the fact that there simply is no money to pay for what Obama wants to do.

And to these people, I ask: "What will it take?" Your arrogance and sense of entitlement is indeed appalling. I am man enough to admit that the GOP deserved their beating 15 months ago. I am man enough to admit that George Bush made mistake upon mistake. I am man enough to admit that the Republicans completely lost touch with the people.

When will you do the same? Especially in Massachusetts?

I am not calling out every single Democrat. Some sensible ones have acknowledged that Coakley lost because she ran a terrible campaign and Brown ran a very good one. To these folks, of course I agree.

Of course, Republicans are just as capable of screwing up a state as Democrats. Political scandals and corruption are not confined to one party. But, the fact remains that Massachusetts is controlled by the Dems and as such, they need to bear responsibility for the mess our state is in.

Someone marginally smarter than I made a good point when he told me that all politics are local. The Republicans have failed in this state because they haven't made the commitment. Make a name for yourself on the board of selectman or the school committee...and then try and move up. Don't come out of nowhere and expect people to vote for you. This person is right. Maybe last week's election result will give the state GOP party the kick in the pants it needs to start on a grassroots level and grow from there.

But either way, I'm hoping that the voters in this state will lose their sense of entitlement and look around. Instead of simply looking for the D on the ballot, take stock of what is happening on Beacon Hill...and think about giving the other guys a chance.

Tailgating

2009-10-03T18:42:00.002-04:00

Tomorrow marks Week 4 of my 16th season as a New England Patriots season ticket holder. By my very rough calculations - using a bean bag, silly putty and an abacus - I have attended approximately 130 or so games.

Being a season ticket holder to an NFL team is a pretty neat experience. Unlike folks who watch the games on TV, season ticket holders have a unique and close relationship with their team. After all, we don't just invest money for tickets, we invest time to attend the games and energy to cheer. For those who tailgate, the time and monetary commitment are even higher. Although I root for all of the Boston teams, the Patriots will always remain my priority because I am not just a fan, I am a participant in the experience. Boston will always be considered a Red Sox town, but I would suspect that many of the 68,000 fans who attend the Pats' games share my perspective.

My dad, who procured the tickets back in 1994 and went to the games until 2000, was not exactly the tailgate type. However, since he retired to The Place Where People Go to Die, Florida (zip code: 25, which is also the average driving speed on the highways), I take every opportunity to tailgate.

Why? Because going to a football game without tailgating is like being a vegetarian. Sure, you could do it, but why on earth would you want to? And if you are a vegetarian who tailgates, then please stop reading this and just go away. And take your tofu burgers. You disgust me.

While there are some obvious benefits to tailgating - such as bonding with pals while drinking beer and eating grilled meat - I have come to appreciate the hidden benefits. For instance, being outside in December for approximately 7.5 hours builds character, stamina and endurance. For the record, I am talking to you, Sox fans, who bitch and moan that it is "only" 55 degrees at the game in late September. Wimps. Try sitting - not moving around or exercising - but just sitting, in temps of 10-20 degrees all day. It does a body good. And keeps the outdoor sports stores in business.

Tailgating makes going to the game an all-day experience. For a 1 p.m. kickoff, I am usually out the door at 8 a.m. and pulling into the lot by 9. Eating and drinking quickly commences - usually about 5,000 calories worth - and lasts until around noon, when we pack up and head to the seats. On an average day, we are back in the car by 4:45 and I pull into my driveway by 6 p.m.

If you think tailgating is expensive, you would be mistaken. A decent beer inside the stadium is $10 (this is not a typo), hot dogs are $6 and popcorn is $5. So, if I had 3 beers, a dog and bag of popcorn, I'd spend $41. Most of my pre-game activities average about $50 or so, which buys a 12-pack of beer, a bunch of snacks, an "entree"," sides and a dessert...for two people.

So there you have it. As a Jew, I can't afford not to tailgate. Think of all the money I'd be wasting.

As much fun as tailgating is, the highlight of the day is always the actual game. To me, the worse the weather gets, the more I enjoy the game. I come across lots of folks who would much rather watch football on TV then in person. That is too bad. Watching at home or in a bar is warmer and more convenient (food, bathroom, etc.), but nothing beats being at the stadium.

Not only do I see many components of the game that don't show up on TV, but the energy of 68,000 lunatics, which can simultaneously boost the Pats and stress their opponent, is contagious. On opening night, when the Pats came back to beat the Bills, I can say with absolute certainty that my experience was twice as intense and emotionally fulfilling as someone who was watching from their couch.

Come 9 a.m. tomorrow, the ritual continues. I'll be sitting in my camping chair with a beer in hand, getting ready to fire up the grill. There will be meat in the cooler, snacks on the table and the smell of smoke wafting throughout the lot. And there will be no place I would rather be.

Except Vegas.

Shaved

2009-09-13T11:23:00.006-04:00

I just discovered the most wonderful thing. It is a real computer, but it's small enough to be moved around. And, it doesn't always need to be plugged in or connected to a cable modem. In fact, right now, this computer is actually positioned on my lap. Wow. This is going to revolutionize the way that I waste my time. Now, I can surf the net, play poker, screw up my fantasy football team and hell, even blog, from the comfort of my couch. I'm just glad I am among the first of the early adopters to splurge for this new technology.

In other news, here is the actual transcript from an actual conversation between Jenn and myself a couple of weeks ago:

ME: (poking my head out of the bathroom) Honey, I shaved off my goatee...

HER: (loud stomping of feet running down the hall) WHAT!?!?!??!

ME: How does it look?

HER: Um...shouldn't we have discussed this first?

I wonder what her reaction would have been if she wasn't a caring, compassionate minister?

So, this is me, courtesy of the built-in web cam on my shiny new laptop:

Sexy, isn't it? Jesus....what's with the roll below my chin?

(Honest to God, it's a good thing I am married. The average corpse is better looking than I am.)

When I went into the bathroom that night, I didn't intend to come out of it clean shaven. It's not like I thought to myself, "Self? How can I make myself even uglier? Oh, I know. I'll shave off the goatee."

Nope, it was a spur-of-the-moment type of thing. I've had my goatee since college because even back then, I had a round, chubby face and thought the facial hair would create a thinning look. The only thing it created was a round, chubby face with a goatee. That's OK. I liked it. And when I finally went bald the following year, I thought the shaved head, goatee'd look fit me pretty well.

Also, I had never seen myself with absolutely no facial hair - that is, bald and clean shaven - and I was curious as to what it looked like.

Oops. I haven't done anything that stupid since my best man convinced me to grow a beard, despite being bald. Thankfully, there are no pictures of that turbulent period.

The consensus is that the clean shaven look makes me appear younger. Probably. But most of all, I just look weird. When I went into work the next day, about 75% of the folks I interacted with didn't even make a comment, which tells me one of two things: either they were following their mom's advice in not saying anything if they didn't have anything nice to say; or (and more likely), my face is so utterly unremarkable, that anything short of a pierced forehead wouldn't be worth reacting to.

As for me, I promised that I would give my new look one month before I judge. Today marks the halfway point and although I will continue to shave for the next couple of weeks, let's just say that I am looking forward to having my dog come near me again.

Prime Time

2009-08-24T07:37:00.003-04:00

God bless the recession.

Ok, so maybe that is not the politically correct thing to say, especially when I have friends that are out of work. But thanks to the Democrats, they will be collecting unemployment benefits until 2819, so I have peace of mind knowing that they are going to be fine. And if it turns out that they aren't going to be fine, then I will be accepting applications for the 2010 Patriots season. Hey, neither life nor football (aren't they one in the same?) stops just because you are broke.

Because I am a glass half-full type of person, I'm always looking to turn a frown upside down. So while the rest of the world bitches and moans about inconsequential things, such as not having any money, I'm taking note of all the great things about the world's economic clusterf&ck:

Unbelievable deals on cars. Forget cash for clunkers. You want a car? Wait until November, when the dealers are struggling again and have to get rid of the 2009 inventory. In fact, only if you were at a NAMBLA convention the day after Jack-o died would you have seen as many sad faces as you'll see at a dealership come November.

Unbelievable deals on houses. Let's face it, if you don't currently own but are looking to, the market will never get any better. And I know of what I speak, having incurred a loss of more than $30K when I sold my condo. And to the woman who bought my old place: I just want you to know that I jury-rigged the sink in the 2nd bathroom to temporarily stop leaking just long enough so that it would pass inspection. Take that.

Unbelievable deals on Prime steak. In fact, this bullet it so important, I am going to devote the rest of the blog entry to it.

If you know me just a little bit, then you know I am a steak snob. Several times per year, I will visit an incredibly expensive restaurant for the right to drop obscene amounts of money on steak. And why do I do this? Mostly because I have numerous and deep psychological issues. But beyond that, because these restaurants serve the very best quality of steak there is. It is called "Prime" and it is at the top of the USDA's grading scale.

This scale has 8 different grades - which are based on the amount of marbling (speckles of fat) throughout the cut and the age of the animal when it was sent to heaven. But for the purposes of this entry (and to keep you from falling asleep), we'll consider only the top 3.

USDA Prime - the best of the best. Only 2% of all beef in the country is Prime, which is the ultimate in tenderness, juiciness, and flavor. These cuts are quite pricey - usually $40 and above - and found at places such as Ruths' Chris, Smith & Wollensky, The Palm and my personal favorite: Del Friscos.

USDA Choice - Choice beef has less marbling than Prime, but it is still high quality. This is the most popular grade of beef because it contains sufficient marbling for taste and tenderness, while costing less than Prime. Just over half of the beef graded each year earns a grade of Choice. If you order a steak at most decent restaurants (i.e., not Applebees), you're likely getting a Choice cut. Generally, these steaks are $35 and below. However, there are a growing number of "nice" restaurants that are selling Choice cuts at Prime prices. Easy enough to tell, though. Look at the menu - the restaurant will almost always boast that their steaks are USDA Prime on the menu. If you don't see it, you're getting Choice. If this is the case, be sure to complain to the waiter and then kick him in the nuts. Just because.

USDA Select - This is generally a lower-priced grade of beef with less marbling than Choice. Select has the least amount of marbling, making it leaner than, but often not as tender, juicy and flavorful as the other two top grades. About a third of beef graded falls into this category. Until recently, most of the beef carried at the supermarket was Select grade. And if you order a steak at places such as Friendly's, TGIFriday's or your local coffee shop, you'll almost certainly get Select. You're better off eating a Big Mac.

So what is my point? Well, I don't have one. Except for this. Apparently, all of the doom and gloom about the economy has had quite a negative impact on the top-end restaurants that serve Prime steak. These types of places depend on businesspeople with large expense accounts and schmucks like me who indulge for a special occasion. Today, expense accounts are just enough to pay for Pizza Hut and anyone with even an iota of common sense isn't dropping $200 on dinner, so the Smith & Wollenskys of the world are really struggling.

And because these restaurants are struggling, they aren't buying nearly as many steaks as they used to. So where is all of this excess inventory going?

Costco. For $9.99 per pound.

I haven't been this excited since I was told that Santa Claus doesn't exist. Before the recession, the only place to find Prime steaks was at the aforementioned restaurants or online through the wholesaler (which included a very high markup). That's it. There simply wasn't enough to be sold through traditional retail channels.

But today? I can go over to Costco (a very convenient 3 minute drive from my office) and pick up 4 Prime ribeyes for less money than what I would spend on one steak at Ruths Chris. Crazy. And freaking awesome.

In the interest of full disclosure, you won't get the exact same taste at home with a Costco Prime steak as you would at a high-end restaurant. That is because the restaurant will let the steak age for a few weeks, season it with a few secret ingredients and cook it at a much higher temperature than you can at home. Still, the Costco Prime steak is more tender, more juicy and more flavorful than anything you can buy anywhere else. And did I mention that it's only $9.99 per pound?

So while most of the world is caught up in their "woe is me" attitude, I prefer to look on the bright side. Hopefully, the nation's economic recovery will be slow, affording me the opportunity to tailgate with Prime steaks at every Pats game this fall.

And although my birthday isn't for another 7 months, feel free to head to Costco and send me an early gift. This deal isn't going to be around forever, you know...

Vacation

2009-08-04T07:35:00.008-04:00

For only the second time in 7 years, I took a summer vacation (the other trip was for my honeymoon, which is somewhat mandatory). Usually, I am philosophically opposed to summer vacations, which I rationalize thusly: why take time off from my warm weather home so that I can visit another warm weather city? Makes no sense. I'd rather go away when it's cooler in Boston and I can visit friends, family or poker tables in warmer climates.

However, having to clear snow off the windows of a rental car in Vegas last December effectively shot a hole in my carefully crafted theory. Global warming my tuchus. It snowed in the freaking desert. Somebody alert the Sci Fi Channel and David Arquette - sounds like the plot for the next cheesy Saturday night movie.

Anyway, for part one of the trip, Jenn and I climbed into the family truckster - which bore an eerie resemblance to a Boeing 757 - and flew to Colorado to visit my cousin Susan, her husband Evan and their kids, Ben and Ellie.

The first sign of trouble was when we left Boston and arrived in Denver on time. When does that ever happen? If that wasn't bad enough, our luggage came out in a timely fashion. Stop messing with my head, United Airlines.

Susan and family live in Fort Collins, which is about an hour north of Denver. Fort Collins is a very cool town - it is home to Colorado State University, so downtown has a ton of cool bars, restaurants and stores - while the rest of the neighborhood is clean, friendly and chock full of nice houses.

Plus, Fort Collins has a Sonic Drive-In, which alone makes it a city worth visiting. Of course, I would say the same thing about the slums of Detroit if that part of town also had a Sonic ("buy 2 burgers, get a free handgun!") , so my perspective may be a tad jaded.

Perhaps more impressively, Fort Collins is home to the New Belgium brewery, which makes a very popular beer called Fat Tire. Naturally, it isn't available in New England, but if you're ever in a place that has it on the menu, order one and tell them I sent you. Granted, your waitress won't have any idea who I am, but still.

(Side note: the first Sonic in Massachusetts is scheduled to open shortly in Peabody, which according to MapQuest is 21 miles from my office. And if you don't think I will be making at least weekly lunchtime visits, then you don't know me (or Tim) at all.)

Anyway, the time in Colorado was a chance to relive some childhood memories. When I was a kid, my grandparents moved to the Denver area (Susan and her family were already there) and I made annual summertime visits for 8 years. While I'm not much of an outdoorsman, the mountains are amazing and we kept busy visiting some very cool and oftentimes historic places.

One day last week, the six of us climbed into the family truckster - which bore an eerie resemblance to a white minivan - and headed up. While I knew where we were headed, this was Jenn's first trip to the Rockies. I assumed she would like it because she would be that much closer to God. We drove into Rocky Mountain National Park and eventually parked the car at the visitors center, which was about 12,000 feet high. To put that into perspective, if you've ever taken the Boston-to-LaGuardia shuttle, cruising altitude is about 14,000 feet.

The last time I was at the top, the entire place was covered with snow (in the summer). This time, there was a little snow on the mountainside, but none in the parking lot or along the road. Maybe there is something to this global warming thing after all.

From there, we made our way down to Estes Park, a popular tourist town about 7,500 feet up. If you've ever watched The Shining, the hotel featured in the movie is located in Estes Park.

After 3 too-short days in Colorado, we bid my cousin adieu and climbed into the family truckster - which bore an eerie resemblance to a Boeing 757 - and headed to Sunnyvale, Calif. to visit The Stewarts - my college pal A.J., his wife Darienne and their sons Calvin and Finn. Although Jenn and I make this visit at least annually, it never gets old. The Stewarts are some of our favorite people and I absolutely adore the kids.

Again, United Airlines showed their true colors be delivering another flawless travel day between Denver and San Jose. Those bastards.

The trip included our typical California adventures: hanging at beaches, tourist towns and boardwalks along the coast, a day in some neat San Francisco museums (one of which had the impressive King Tut exhibit) and wine tasting in Sonoma.

Wine tasting was particular memorable for me, as I ended the day with a pretty healthy buzz, then proceeded to somehow not embarrass myself at mini-golf (a gift to the kids for behaving themselves while the adults imbibed) and finally, experienced a decent hangover...all before dinner.

As is the case with vacations, before we knew it, it was time to come home. When I booked the trip, I picked a flight that would ensure we would get back to Boston at a reasonable time, as Jenn would have to be at church the next morning. However, the homeless, drunk, strung-out-on-drugs guy at LaGuardia who checked in for a flight with a fake bomb in his luggage first thing that morning clearly had other ideas.

Needless to say, massive delays ensued - which was unfortunate, as the family truckster that was taking us back home started the day at LaGuardia before heading to Chicago and onto San Francisco. Thankfully, Darienne had the foresight to check our flight status before we left the house, so we weren't stuck at the airport all day. As it turns out, our flight which was due to arrive in Boston at 8:30 p.m. did not land until 12:30 a.m. By the time we got home, unpacked the necessities and turned out the lights, it was 2 a.m.

Thanks a lot United. I hate you. Or at least I did, until you sent both Jenn and myself $250 vouchers for the inconvenience. All hail homeless, drunk, strung-out-on-drugs guys with fake bombs in their luggage!

Pics of the trip are on my Facebook page.

I Saw the Sign...

2009-07-08T07:28:00.011-04:00

Do you believe in omens? I never used to, until.....

(cue mystical music and dissolve picture)

It was January 2008 and my friend AJ called. We were just days away from the AFC and NFC championship games and both of our teams were playing for the right to go to the Super Bowl (AJ, who lives in Silicon Valley, is a huge Packers fan). The first 5 seconds of the conversation were going well, until he said four words that would forever come back to haunt us:

"I have an idea."

In hindsight, I should have just hung up on him.

'If our teams win on Sunday, we should watch the game together. In Vegas."

Within 3 seconds of hanging up the phone, I was online, looking at airfares and hotels. We were absolutely confident that both the Pats and Pack would be victorious - the Pats hadn't lost a game all season and were playing the Chargers, whose QB and running back were very much banged up. As for the Packers, they were playing the NY Giants. The Giants had a pretty good year, but the Packers had an excellent year and the game was in Green Bay, where the temperature was hovering around zero. And nobody is better in those conditions than Brett Favre.

Of course, the Packers lost, primarily because of Favre.

That should have been the end of it. Had both teams won, it would have been a blast to meet up in Vegas, each of us rooting for our teams amongst the chaos of a sportsbook on Super Sunday. But, it was not meant to be. Oh well, it was probably for the best.

Until we spoke later that week and he said, "I'm thinking we should go anyways."

We should have known better. The Packers lost - wasn't that an omen? And if there is one place in the world where fate should not be tempted, isn't it Vegas?

The Packers losing was omen #1.

Omen #2? Our hotel catching fire 3 days before the trip.

If we had any smarts whatsoever, we would have recognized these signs and called the whole thing off. Instead, we yukked it up and rebooked ourselves at the Luxor, which is the Motel 6 of the Strip...you don't exactly brag about staying there. Neither would Tom Bodett.

Ironically, the days in Vegas leading up to the game were fun and profitable. We made good money at the poker tables, treated ourselves to some pricey meals and took in a Jerry Seinfeld show. On the day of the game, we ended up with front row seats in the Mirage sportsbook, thanks to a favor called in by a friend.

I brought an extra shirt for AJ, so that day, we were both Pats fans...and because we were utterly convinced that they would win handily, we bet on them, in a number of different ways. The tourist money being bet on the game favored the Giants, but that also reflected the fact that Giants fans in Vegas outnumbered Pats fans by about 3-2. The professional gamblers were taking the Pats, so we had that going for us.

Until the game ended.

Actually, by the time the 4th quarter started, AJ & I knew that we were going to lose our bets. The Pats would have had to blow the Giants out in the last 15 minutes and that clearly wasn't going to happen. As the game wound down, I didn't give the money a second thought...I was too nervous about the outcome.

After the game, I was seriously shellshocked. Perhaps having an emotional attachment to a sports team is a bit irrational, but in my incredibly simple (and slightly pathetic) life, the New England Patriots rank pretty high on the list of things that are important to me.

I was crushed. Not because of the money. And not because the Pats simply lost the game.

For most of their existence, the Patriots were the laughingstock of the NFL. Whatever could go wrong usually did. Watching them ascend from the outhouse to the penthouse over the last decade has been a tremendously enjoyable experience for me, even more so as a season ticket holder since 1994.

Had the Pats won, they would have done something no other team had ever done: gone 19-0. Sure, the 1972 Dolphins went undefeated, but their record was 17-0, thanks to a shorter regular season. A victory would have taken the Pats to another level. They wouldn't have just been a dynasty. They wouldn't have just been 1 of only 2 undefeated teams. They would have been immortal. In all likelihood, they would have been known as the best team in the history of the NFL, and who knows, maybe in all of sports.

And it would have been MY team people were talking about.

But they couldn't do it. And that is why it hurt so badly for me. Perhaps they choked. Perhaps it was just karma. Maybe if they play 10 times, the Pats win 8, but it didn't matter. They just couldn't do it.

After the game, which ended around 7 p.m. Vegas time, AJ and I went to dinner.

And then we went to bed. (Um, not together)

Yup, by 9:30, we were in the hotel room and lying in bed (not together). Sure, we could have gone out on what was our last night in town, but had we done so, we probably would have done something stupid, like drink way too much, gamble way too much and in all likelihood, both.

The next day, I flew home in a funk. And I didn't come out of that funk for about a month. That is how much it hurt.

Do I hold Vegas responsible? Of course not. The game would have ended the exact same way if I was home watching it on my couch. But there is an energy and aura in Vegas that makes any game seem infinitely more meaningful...even the Super Bowl. While I can only imagine what it must be like to be on the winning side, I know what it's like to be on the losing side, and it pretty much sucked.

I've always said that even the losing trips to Vegas are fun. And while I don't regret going, maybe we should have paid a little more attention to those omens.

Where the Hell Have I Been?

2009-07-02T13:30:00.009-04:00

Wow. It's been 19 days since I last graced the online world (and intruded on yours) with a blog post. And while I could offer up my busy life as an excuse, it's not much of one. I don't really have a life, much less a busy one. I do have a dog, however. As well as a pimple that keeps reappearing on my forehead. However, I digress.

Since my last post:

The in-laws visited. And, the weekend didn't suck. I seem to recall a nice dinner out that Friday evening (even nicer because they paid), the discovery of a terrific breakfast place on Saturday morning and grilling and dining outside on Saturday night.

I got promoted at work. And while this was generally a good thing, a bit of chaos involving office assignments ensued. Although I "took one for the team," I do have a window again, which helps ease the sting.

I went to Vegas. Yes, again. This time for my buddy Tim's bachelor party. And as I expertly predicted months ago, it did not snow. In fact, it was cloudless and in the 90s for just about the entire trip. All-in-all, a very successful trip: all of Tim's friends got along very well, we engaged in a lot of fun, mostly legal activities, Del Friscos was as good as it's ever been, I won money at the tables...AND took a bump that gave me a voucher for the next flight to Vegas in December. Good times.

Jenn left me. Albeit for a God conference in Grand Rapids. Why God, or anyone else, would want to meet up in Grand Rapids is beyond me - although I suspect it's better than Detroit - but who am I to question the Almighty?

I went to Tim and Lauren's wedding. While it was definitely a good time, I was most impressed by the food. It wasn't just good, it was extremely good. Beef Wellington appetizers? You had me at Beef Wellington. The filet for dinner was tender and actually cooked medium rare and the accompanying risoto was damn fine. Oh, and the open bar was nice.

Jenn returned home. And subsequently refused to cook dinner. Something about traveling all day and getting in at 7:30 p.m. Whatever.

Anyway, I plan to resume a more normal blogging schedule - at least once a week - with the next update coming up in a few days. I am going to use that time to appropriately mourn the passing of Billy Mays and appropriately mock anyone who seriously mourns the passing of Michael Jackson.

And I am going to buy an iPhone.

Cars

2009-06-12T07:05:00.010-04:00

There's an old saying, although I have no idea what it came from: "give 'em what they want."

For most of this decade, Americans wanted oversized SUVs, trucks and minivans that on good days got 15 miles per gallon on the highway. Why did we want them? Because our neighbors had them, because they looked nice, and because fiscal irresponsibility was a far more virulent problem than swine flu.

So, the Big 3 American car companies gave the public what they wanted. And they made a lot of money doing it.

GM's financial results from 2001-2007:
2001: $601 million profit
2002: $1.7 billion profit
2003: $3.8 billion profit
2004: $3.6 billion profit
2005: $3.4 billion loss (mostly related to non-operational items)
2006: $2.2 billion profit
2007: $2.3 billion loss (mostly related to non-operational items. The company generated record revenue of $178 billion that year)

Ford's financial results from 2001-2007:
2001: $1,5 billion profit
2002: $3 billion profit
2003: $1.2 billion profit
2004: $2.4 billion profit
2005: $1.9 billion loss (mostly related to non-operational items)
2006: $2.8 billion loss
2007: $2.7 billion loss

As for Chrysler, they have been a private company for quite some time and their results are not available. That said, they were not nearly as financially strong as the other two.

So despite all of the publicity surrounding the bankruptcies of GM and Chrysler, the Big 3's profits were in the BILLIONS as recently as 2006. Not bad. And then, of course, the bottom fell out. Why?

Lots of reasons, but I don't believe the common misconception about inferior quality is one of them. I recently had a conversation with someone I consider to be very knowledgeable about the industry, as he previously worked for one of the Big 3. This person adamantly believes that the quality of American cars is at minimum, equal to that of their Japanese rivals. I tend to agree, if only because logically, his position make sense.

Technology has advanced to the point now where most cars will go 5 years before any problems develop and easily last 10 years with proper maintenance. Besides, with so much competition from foreign car companies, if the Big 3 produced lousy cars, they would have gone out of business long ago.

So where did GM, Ford and Chrysler go wrong? As a completely uninformed, naive and generally clueless schmuck, I offer up the following:

Out of control labor costs. And while you might jump to blame the unions, I don't. It is up to the manufacturers to draw the line, not the unions. What person wouldn't want more money and stronger benefits?

Uninspiring cars. Let's be honest - if you want a good-looking car, you don't typically buy a Ford, Chevy or Chrysler. That would prove to be a big problem after gas prices went through the roof.

Repetition. What is the difference between a Ford Explorer and Mercury Mariner? Nothing. What is the difference between the Chrysler Town and Country Minivan and the Dodge Grand Caravan? Nothing. And why exactly does GM have 293 different brands?

An incomplete product portfolio. I think this is what really did in the Big 3. Earlier this decade, American car companies devoted their resources to producing oversized vehicles, while the Japanese continued to focus on normal-size cars (although they also made SUVs, trucks, minivans, etc). When the price of oil skyrocketed, the American public quickly adapted, abandoning their behemoths and downsizing to well, normal-size cars - such as the Accord, Civic, Corolla, Camry, Altima, etc. Unfortunately for the Big 3, they couldn't adapt nearly as quickly, and instantly fell behind the foreign competition. American car companies could no longer "give em what they want."

Worse, I believe the Big 3 had 2 gigantic holes in their product lines:

Cheap, economical and fuel efficient cars (i.e., Toyota Prius, Honda Insight, etc).
The entry-level luxury car (i.e., Lexus, Acura, Infiniti, etc)

For the most part, American car companies had little to offer in these categories. I can say that with some frame of reference, as I purchased a new car last October: an Infiniti G35.

The car is, well, it's freaking awesome: sleek, sporty, powerful, luxurious and it has lots of buttons and knobs. I like buttons and knobs.

I had the better part of all last year to research cars and make my purchasing decision. And when I decided that I wanted to take the plunge and spurge on a "luxury car," I spent months researching all of the options. My criteria was simple: I wanted something sleek, sporty, powerful, luxurious with lots of buttons and knobs - a car that critics universally approved of....and I wanted it at a certain price range.

Not surprisingly, all 3 major Japanese car companies have exclusive luxury divisions that made models meeting all of my criteria, including price:

Toyota makes Lexus
Honda makes Acura
Nissan makes Infiniti

As for the Big 3, here were my options:

Lincoln MKZ (from Ford) - not especially sporty, not reviewed all that highly and outside of my price
Cadillac CTS (from GM) - Wayyyy outside my price, and to be honest, I think they are kind of ugly. Not sleek at all.

For me, the decision between Japanese and American was easy - in fact, it was not even close. I chose the Infiniti because I felt that was the best car for my money. Well, that and the fact that I paid close to 25% less than the sticker price, as I was one of about 4 people to buy a car in the month of October.

Next time you are out, look around: you will be astounded as to how many "entry-level" luxury cars you will see on the road: Lexus, Infiniti and Acura. They will be all over the place. Keep your eye out for an MKZ or CTS. You will be lucky to spot 1 or 2.

The same can be said for the economy cars - Hondas, Toyotas and Nissans rule the road.

As for the Big 3, they have received a new life, which is a good thing. Despite being a conservative, I think the bailout was necessary - the American auto industry is too big to fail in this tough economic environment. I have high hopes that all 3 companies will get their collective heads screwed on straight and catch up to their Japanese counterparts. And let's be honest: it's now or never.

Pissing off the NBA

2009-06-04T07:19:00.015-04:00

I've always wanted to be a professional basketball player.

OK, that is not entirely true. I hate the sport and have never had any inspirations of playing basketball, professionally, recreationally or as part of a drug-induced hallucination. In fact, I am a truly atrocious basketball player. There is little question that Jon, Kate and any of those 8 could school me on the court. However, this did not stop me from sending a letter to the NBA in 1993, making myself eligible for the upcoming draft.

For the record, April 26, 1993 was a Monday, meaning I was not drunk, stoned or otherwise impaired (even at UMass, we rested on Mondays). Although, in the interest of fair disclosure, the idea might have been hatched the previous weekend, while my friends and I were enjoying the crisp refreshing taste of Olympia Beer, a truly disgusting, yet extremely affordable lager.

Besides, as a certifiable whack job, I tend to enjoy riling people up (see wife, my and Gorman, Lou). Plus, I was curious as to what response, if any, would come from the NBA.

After a couple of weeks passed with no reply from the league, I figured that my letter was sent directly to the circular file. Until I found a FedEx waiting for me at my dorm one Friday afternoon:

I was excited. Clearly, the league was conducting a background check so that they could invite me to sit in the Green Room at Madison Square Garden on draft night. Despite the long odds and uphill struggles, my 3-week old dream of becoming a pro was one step closer to reality. Hardly able to contain myself, I immediately called Mr. Richardson. The conversation went pretty much like this:

HIM: I want to confirm that you are still enrolled as a student at UMass.

ME: Yes, sir.

HIM: I don't see your name on the basketball team's roster. Or for that matter, any roster on any NCAA team. What is your basketball experience?

ME: Intramurals.

The phone call ended a few minutes later and sufficed to say, Mr. Richardson was not pleased. Something about me wasting his time. I don't know what it is about security people, but they don't seem to have much of a sense of humor.

Crushed, I told my friends the sad news. They sympathized - we laughed, we cried, we hugged. I was just thankful they were there for me during that difficult time. Finishing up the semester, I went home and tried to put the pieces of my shattered life back together. A couple of days later, I received this:

So you're saying there's a chance? Clearly, the powers-that-be had a change of heart and decided that I should be permitted to meet my destiny. Either that, or this was a standard legal disclaimer that the league sends to all of the morons like me who pull this stunt. Either way, imagine my excitement when I tuned into the draft a month later. Hey, stranger things have happened, right?

Nope. Not only did I not watch the draft, I completely forgot about it. Stunningly, I was not selected. At least, I don't think I was. Although to this day, I wonder if maybe I was picked and it was my responsibility to have called my new team and report for training camp?

Wow, now that is a depressing thought. I missed out on what would have been a 2.5 minute career as a pro hoops player because I was at the movies watching Cliffhanger. This seems like a "Where Are They Now" story waiting to happen.

To My Wife...Again.

2009-05-27T08:11:00.004-04:00

People are starting to get concerned.

As a minister, it is understood that you have to exhibit some compassion from time to time, but today marks two years and you still seem to um....what is the word I am looking for? Oh yeah...care.

Your dad's visit in a couple of weeks? It isn't just to hang out. I am fairly certain that he is going to try and talk some sense into you. After all, he only gave us 3 years, so he's probably getting a little antsy.

My dad's visit next week? It's not just to have dinner with us. I am fairly certain that he is going to tell you in person that the monthly checks are being cut off, that you have done your time and are now free to go.

Year 2 was a good year. You went to Israel and lived to tell about it; we saved a lot of money and subsequently blew most of it on the down payment for the Infiniti; you finally spent a few days in my Holy Land; and, most importantly, we welcomed the new love of our life to the family: Vegas, the world's dumbest dog.

Who, by the way, is infinitely more easier to live with than I am.

And yet you continue to put up with me, for reasons that only you and your God know. Maybe it's because I stayed true to my vow from one year ago - to let you pick the pizza toppings. Sure, we now get separate pizzas, but you always get exactly what you want. Even when you insist on ordering from the 3rd best pizza place in town.

So while I remain confused as to your true motives, I could not be more appreciative of all that you do. To say I married up is a gigantic understatement. Here's hoping that the day never comes when you figure that out.

Happy 2nd anniversary, honey. I love you.

Pissing off Lou Gorman

2009-05-12T16:54:00.010-04:00

So the consensus is that I am a wuss. Most excellent. I've always needed an identity and while I would have preferred tall, charming and handsome, that would have been an outright lie. However, on the scale of identities, wuss definitely ranks above overly talkative, boring, smelly and bad poker player...so I'll take it. Thanks again to all who chimed in.

And speaking of being sensitive, former Red Sox general manager Lou Gorman, who ran the team from 1984-1993, has had one or two Jon Siegal moments in his career. How do I know? Well, it just so happens that Lou sent me and my friends a very inappropriate letter while I was in college. Sure, his inappropriate letter was a response to an extremely vulgar and ridiculously inappropriate letter that we sent him, but that is besides the point. He was a grown up and should have known better.

What did we say to poor Lou? Well, glad you asked. To set the stage, it was November 1992. The Sox lost a very promising prospect and their starting 2nd baseman in the expansion draft that was held to stock the incoming Florida Marlins and Colorado Rockies. At that point, the Sox were spiraling down from a contending team in the late 1980s to the dregs of the league in the early 1990s.

Here we go. Warning: the following letter contains very strong language, numerous grammatical errors and may or may not be funny after all of these years:

Lou,

We just want to tell you that you really suck balls and we are demanding your immediate resignation. You've been gradually screwing up the organization for years now but the Eric Wedge fiasco is the latest, and hopefully the last, of your asinine moves concerning personnel.

Would you like us to refresh your memory?

The following dickhead moves are just a minute sampling of many fuck-ups you have been responsible for:

1. The signing of Matt Young for a multi-year, multi-million dollar contract. In some countries you would be executed for such displays of ignorance. You couldn't manage a Dairy Mart, let alone a Major League Baseball team. You signed a pitcher that can't throw to first base without shitting his pants. He belongs in the Ronald Reagan Hospital for the Mentally Insane, and you should be his roommate.

2. The signing of Jack Clark. Another winner on the Boston sports scene. Next time you see him could you tell him to forget about the five bucks he owes me, I'll let it slide. Jack needs it more than I do anyway. The guy must love you, Lou. Without you he wouldn't have been able to make an extra few million to sit on his ass and cry about how much his life sucks. Lou, I heard Dave Kingman wants to make a comeback, how about 4 years and 10 million, does that sound fair? We need someone to hit it over the monster, you know?

3. Lee Smith and Jeff Reardon. You gave up a reliever who is in his prime and replaced him with a shitbum who blew more saves that Margo Adams has {bad word for penises}. Yeah, he does hold the all-time save record, until Lee Smith passes him early next year.

4. Dennis Eckersley for Bill Buckner. "Little roller along first..."

5. Releasing Dwight Evans. This is the equivalent of the Bruins releasing Ray Bourque or the Celtics releasing Larry, Kevin and Robert. You don't treat a man that has done so much for the team the way you did. That was classless and personifies the differences between a top-flight organization and the Red Sox.

6. Releasing Dave Henderson. You suck, bad.

7. How about all the careers you've ruined? Kevin Morton, Mo Vaughn, Phil Plantier, Tim Naehring, Mike Gardiner...

8. Finally, the expansion draft. We're you drunk, baked, on acid? What the fuck were you thinking? Was your mother on crack while she was pregnant with you? Are your parents also brother and sister? I can't explain this. Jody Reed? Eric Wedge? That's all we can take, we hate you.

After the draft, we held a trial in room 329 Patterson Hall at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. We found you guilty of 43 counts of general stupidity, 10 counts of attempted stupidity, 18 counts of career murder and one count of not having a penis. As punishment we ask that you resign as general manager of the Boston Red Sox. We hope that this will end the needless suffering that millions of Red Sox fans experience this year.

Needless to say, a good portion of our arguments in this letter - namely points 5, 6, 7 and 8...so about half - turned out to be wrong. This is mainly due to the fact that we were young, stupid and immature. Plus, I was involved and I am usually never right about anything. That said, we didn't know at the time how good Curt Schilling and Jeff Bagwell would become, two players he traded away for precious little.

Here is Lou's response:

Gentleman (and I use the term loosely):

To take the time to respond to a bunch of illiterate, ill-mannered vulgar jerks like yourselves would be a total affront to my intelligence.

I would hope that you morons don't represent the true educational level of students at the University of Massachusetts since you do nothing but "disgrace" the University with the ignorance and vulgarity of your letter.

Some day when you all grow up, if ever, I might take the time to reply with an intelligent response.

Sincerely,

James "Lou" Gorman
Senior Vice President/General Manager

It is worth noting that less than a year later, Lou resigned, replaced by the infamous Dan Duquette. Clearly, our letter took a heavy personal toll on the man. It is also worth noting that his letter made no sense: he claims that he won't respond to us, but isn't the letter itself a response? I am confused. Maybe this is just Lou being Lou.

So is Lou Gorman also a wuss? Maybe. But he was also a decent general manager and from what I hear, a very kind soul. Still, he should thank his lucky stars that the internet, Facebook, Twitter and countless other social mediums weren't around during his tenure. Seeing that I am big on apologies these days, perhaps I should track him down and send him another letter....

Next blog post: The NBA also showed its sensitive side. Like, for instance, when I declared for the NBA draft in 1993.

Am I a wuss?

2009-05-03T09:49:00.014-04:00

As I enter the "golden years," I've noticed several distinct signs of aging:

The graying of facial and chest hair.
A shrinking bladder that results in trips to the bathroom every 45 minutes.
Falling asleep on the couch by 8:30. On Fridays.
And, oh yeah, potentially turning into an oversensitive, thin-skinned pus*y.

For the majority of my life, it has been virtually impossible to offend me. I embrace my self-deprecating sense of humor and I not only encourage, but I demand that my friends get in on the action.

And they have not disappointed. Through the years, I've been subjected to jokes about my religion, my upbringing, my ex-girlfriends, a startling inability to count (most often seen while gambling) and bouts with abdominal overhang, among others. I'd like to think that nobody laughs harder at these jokes than I do. After all, if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?

By and large, I am not an emotional person. I tend to roll with the punches. In fact, my wife would be thrilled if one day I climbed a couple of notches on the emotional response scale to the level of "your soul is an empty void of all humanity."

An example: a year ago, I was driving on the highway when an SUV in front of me lost control, flipped over a couple of times and came to rest upside down in a shallow ditch off the road. I pulled over, ran down to the vehicle, helped a very shaken (but uninjured) driver out of the SUV, called police, waited with her and once the cops arrived and took my statement, I left. Not unusual, right?

Here's the rub: Not once during the entire episode did I ever think about the fact that the woman could have died, the truck could have erupted in flames or exploded while I helped her out, or that the out-of-control SUV came within a couple of feet of hitting my car. And by the time I did think about these things, I was already on the way home and realized that none of these things happened, everyone was OK and that was that. I didn't lose sleep over it. I didn't dwell on it for days. I was over it.

Strange? Probably. Do I require intensive psychological evaluation? Almost certainly. But that is just how I function. I am about as sensitive as a pet rock.

And now that I've spent 421 words setting the stage, it should surprise absolutely no one that my reaction (over-reaction?) to a Facebook comment recently started in motion a string of events that culminated in the end of a friendship.

Yep, that's right. I was, for some reason, put off by a handful of words that somebody typed online. Somebody shoot me. Now.

It isn't necessary to divulge the identity of the other person. He is not a regular reader or contributor to this blog and does not live anywhere near me.

It also isn't necessary to go into a great deal of detail about what happened. I will say that I expressed my feelings to this person and tried to resolve the issue a few different times. However, he did not believe the comment was offensive, refused to apologize for it, and by not doing so, ultimately decided that it would be best to part ways.

As someone who says whatever is on my mind, I have inadvertently offended people on numerous occasions. I often find myself apologizing, even if I don't understand why the other person was ticked off, because to not apologize would send a message that their feelings are irrelevant. "Hey, don't be so sensitive. If you don't like it, too bad." Sure, it would be nice to take that approach, but I am reasonably certain that if I did, the only person I'd have left to speak with is my dog.

Although she is not much of a talker. I wonder if it was something I said.

Now that this falling out has concluded, I found myself in a very strange position - trying to deal with um, I believe they are called...feelings:

Bewilderment
Sadness
Frustration
Anger
Amusement (at the absurdity of the situation. After all, if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?)

So this is what it's like to feel emotion? Odd....

I have no regrets. Did I overreact to a mostly harmless Facebook comment? In hindsight, perhaps I did. But in my view, this quickly transitioned from bitching about a Facebook comment to an issue of principle. Sure, I don't have many principles - besides always hitting on a soft 18 and never ordering a drink with an umbrella - but as cheesy as it sounds, I've always tried to treat others the way I would like to be treated (with the notable exception of my sister). If that includes apologizing for something I said, even if it is mostly as a goodwill gesture, then so be it. In this case, this person choose not to offer a similar level of reciprocation.

Still...a Facebook comment? Really? What in the world of Hallmark is wrong with me? Is this the beginning of the end? Will I soon be crying over those cheesy inspirational features that will be televised at the next Olympics?

"21 year old bobsledder Mike Jones may not be the favorite to win a medal, but just getting to Vancouver is a lifetime accomplishment. His story starts with a bizarre skee-ball accident involving his pet hamster that happened when he was 6..."

Jesus. I feel the need to apologize to anyone reading this. Just for the hell of it.

Sin City

2009-04-19T12:11:00.012-04:00

It all started innocently enough.

It was February 1996. My friend Mark - he of the 3,000 word comments - was thinking of visiting his brother in Vegas for a week and asked if I wanted to come along. Having finished school the previous December and not yet having started my career, Mark's question was akin to asking the Pope if he would like to pray.

None of the 8 people who read this blog - OK, maybe 7 these days - need to be given a primer on my love of cards and gambling. So, a few weeks later, on a cold snowy Sunday night, we flew to Vegas. Little did I suspect that it would be the first of almost two dozen trips in a 13-year period.

We landed around 11 p.m. and drove straight to Binion's (the birthplace of this somewhat popular event) where I proceeded to pop my Vegas cherry. I sat down at a $5 blackjack table (good luck finding one of those anymore), ordered a Corona and won my very first hand.

And over the next week, proceeded to lose my shirt. It was glorious.

Fun fact: To this day, if I drink a beer while at a table in Vegas, it is always a Corona. Who says I am not a romantic? Um, besides my wife and just about everyone else?

Anyway, back then, "losing my shirt" was somewhat subjective. First of all, the thought of me without a shirt was not nearly as nauseating as it is today. Secondly, I lost about $700, which while significant, didn't exactly drive me into bankruptcy.

Some highlights from that first trip:

12 hours after we arrived, it snowed. In the desert. What are the odds? I mean, that must be a once in a lifetime event, right? (hint: this is called foreshadowing) Anyway, it was only for an hour or so and produced barely a dusting, but in the desert any type of precipitation causes the roads to become extremely slippery.

We took a day trip to Six Flags Magic Mountain, just outside of L.A., to spend a day riding some truly kick-ass roller coasters. We woke up at 4 a.m., piled into the family truckster, drove 5-6 hours and when we arrived at the park, it was closed. No, the moose at the gate didn't tell us. The sign saying "Winter hours, weekends only" did. We were there on a Friday and it was 70 degrees. Only in California. And if "traveling across country to visit an amusement park, only to discover upon arrival that it was closed" sounds somewhat familiar, then you should not be surprised to learn that yes, this park doubled as Wally World. Don't believe me? Look here. As a parting gift, we spent the day at Universal Studios, which while nice, was no Wally World.

Mark and I met up with my uncle Eliot, who was in town on business and armed with a sizable expense account. Where did we go? Ruths' Chris, of course. Not only was this my first time in such a steakhouse, we hadn't walked 10 feet before we saw this 80-something year old geezer hanging in the bar with a 20-something year old blond bombshell on his arm. Vegas, baby. The steak was good too.

Over the years, my Vegas visits have been devoted to bachelor parties, mancations, work, last-minute diversions (I was in San Diego and Logan was snowed in, so why not?) and as a tour guide for Jenn.

Why do I love it so much? Beyond the obvious - gambling, great food, endless entertainment options, the over-the-top stimulation of the senses - Vegas is a place where I can truly get away and lose myself for the better part of a week. Nothing really matters except gambling, eating copious amounts of food (as well as a few drinks) and having fun. I have very little contact with, and consideration for, the outside world. It's going to sound cheesy, but Vegas is my oasis.

Financially, my trips have been all over the spectrum: lose a little, win a little, break even (mostly), lose a lot, win a lot. Thankfully, I've never come home with an empty wallet. And yes, I know I've just doomed myself.

And so, with 20 trips in the rear view mirror, I would be remiss if I did not offer up a few thoughts for any Vegas Virgins who may be reading:

If you are making your first trip, stay on the Strip, ideally in the middle. Your objective will likely be to take in as much as you can and because there is no way you can see all of Vegas on your first trip (unless your first trip is for a month), the best thing you can do is spend a day or so walking up each end of the Strip.

If you make a return trip, rent a car and and see the sights. There are plenty of neat casinos, attractions and restaurants away from the Strip and you'll save money by renting a car, as opposed to taking a cab everywhere you go.

If you are planning to gamble, do something that most people don't - learn how to play the games. It is amazing to see people sit down at a table and have no idea what they are doing. Yes, you are there to have fun, but geez, you are playing with real money, shouldn't you at least try and understand what you are doing?

Unless you really like the heat, you should probably avoid going in the summer. One year, I flew to Vegas in late June for work and when I landed at midnight, it was 98 degrees. Weatherwise, the best times to go are late March-to early May or mid September- mid October.

Be sure to hit "downtown," which is a few miles from the Strip. This is where Vegas really got started and features hotels/casinos that date back to the 50s and 60s.

For those who think gambling is the sure sign of the devil - then why did you elect Obama? Bada bing! Thank you! I'll be here all week! - it is still worth the trip. There is plenty to do: entertainment, dining, shopping, tourist attractions, prostitution. Everyone should see Vegas once.

In less than two months, I will be making trip #21 for another bachelor party. While I am reasonably certain that I won't witness my 3rd Vegas snowfall - last December it snowed several inches (remember that foreshadowing thing?) - I am quite certain that win or lose, I am going to have a blast. And a big steak.

Ex GOP?

2009-04-12T10:16:00.009-04:00

What is wrong with the Republicans? The played a fairly significant role in the world's economic mess, stood behind a President who left office with the worst approval ratings of all time, and think that global warming is just a result of God sweating (apparently the Lord just needs a good shower).

Today, their actions and messages are almost as ridiculous as the decision to greenlight Joanie Loves Chachi. Worse, their designated big mouth is officially on the record as hoping Obama is a failure. Groovy. Good thing he hasn't been tasked with pulling the world out of the worst financial crisis in 70 years...a crisis that was sparked largely by the actions of a Republican administration and Congress. Given that Republicans are as well liked as an STD, you would think that someone of stature within the party would step up and either distance themselves from Rush's comments or publicly reprimand the big lug. However, you would be wrong.

Which leads me to one inescapable conclusion: the GOP is off its rocker.

And I am a Republican. Sort of.

I've never formally affiliated myself with a political party - I am registered as "unenrolled" - although I've almost always voted with the right because I shared many of their positions on important issues. Clearly not all of them, but enough. However, I am becoming increasingly disenfranchised with the party. Why?

Fox News.

These guys could have taught the Nazis a thing or two about propaganda. It's unreal. To watch some of their programming, you would think that Obama is a Muslim terrorist whose only mission in life is to destroy the American way of life. While I realize that the pundits are simply catering to their audience, and while there is "some" truth to some of their points, the tone and tenor coming from Fox has long since passed absurd and is rapidly approaching "I think this is the Cubs' year" territory.

If for no other reason, check out the Daily Show every night for a collage of sound bytes from Fox News that is equally funny, sad and pathetic, and which can produce no reaction other than a swift shaking of the head.

Granted, disgust at one news channel is not the reason I am considering mutiny. However, it just might be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

So does this mean I am ready to become a Democrat? Um, no. There is a better chance that my wife converts to Judaism - well, beyond the fact that she already worships a Jew - or that I will ever again attend a Passover dinner with my family. ("So you're saying there's a chance?")

While I do agree with the donkeys on certain issues (such as the need to save the auto industry), we don't have a ton of viewpoints in common, especially the whole "any time we need money, we'll just raise taxes" thing.

Nope, I think my future political calling is the Libertarian Party (the "party of principle!"). I like these guys. Their mission statement : "We hold that all individuals have the right to exercise sole dominion over their own lives, and have the right to live in whatever manner they choose, so long as they do not forcibly interfere with the equal right of others to live in whatever manner they choose."

So basically, "everyone for himself" in a non-anarchy type of way. They don't care what your sexual orientation is. They don't care if you support or oppose abortion. They don't care what color you are or where your ancestors came from. Imagine that.

Of course, they also don't care for the income tax, a regulated healthcare system or our country's position of policing the world...so they aren't exactly perfect. However, much of what they stand for is common sense. At least to me. But then again, I am a bit of a whackjob.

So what is stopping me from declaring my undying love and allegiance to the Libertarians? Easy. They don't hold any real power. Sure, they might be one of the largest alternative political parties and sure, hundreds of Libertarian candidates have been elected or appointed to public office. But nothing of real stature - unless you believe that the position of Vice President of Lettuce at Shaws represents stature. If I decide to strictly vote Libertarian, am I wasting my vote?

Of course not, in the sense that I am exercising my right to choose. However, knowing that a Libertarian is unlikely to win office in a major election, does it make more sense to vote for Republicans, who are closer to my position than Democrats, and are significantly more likely to hold office? Good question. And one that I am going to have to figure out.

Until then, I'll stay as informed as ever, by tuning into Stewart and Colbert.

All you can eat

2009-04-08T08:05:00.007-04:00

Stacey recently blogged about how the unofficial arrival of spring - baseball's opening day - sparks her annual craving for hot dogs. She is definitely on to something, although in my case, the official arrival of spring sparks my annual craving for birthday cake and the subsequent whining that I am one step closer to death.

Hot dogs are one of my favorite foods. In fact, if I am at a cookout and had to choose between a hot dog and a burger, I'd go with the hot dog. And you'd be hard pressed to find someone who enjoys beef as much as I do. Maybe it's because hot dogs are more of a seasonal food and something not typically ordered when eating out. Burgers, on the other hand, are one of the most popular foods served at restaurants and are enjoyed year round (speaking of which, if you live near a Red Robin, go and go often. Them's burgers are mighty tasty).

Fun Fact - During hot dog season (Memorial Day to Labor Day) Americans typically consume 7 billion hot dogs, which is the equivalent of 818 hot dogs consumed per second during that period. Impressed? Then be sure to check out the National Hot Dog & Sausage Council's web site for more stats that will blow your wiener.

For hot dog lovers, there is one day each year where the frankfurter is king. This year, the day is May 31. The place is Suffolk Downs in East Boston. The event? The 20th Annual Hot Dog Safar i (I kid you not). This is the knockwurst of all hot dog gatherings - $10 provides all-you-can-eat access to about a dozen different brands of hot dogs, snacks, soda, etc. All proceeds go to charity, which means that you have the comfort of knowing that while you throw up the 17 hot dogs you consumed earlier that day, somebody somewhere is going to benefit from your gluttony. God bless America.

The Hot Dog Safari is the brainchild of a famous Boston sports radio host, who is perhaps a wee bit too obsessed with hot dogs. The first Safari was a bus trip for 200 people to Foxwoods, where a handful of hot dog companies set up in a function room. This year, 30,000 will attend, and why not? In these difficult economic times, $10 for all-you-can-eat dogs is a terrific deal. Sure, you might need to follow your meal with a handful of Lipitor and Pepto-Bismol, but as my good friend Red likes to say, you either get busy living, or get busy dying.

If you attend the Hot Dog Safari, the bad news is that it will probably take you close to a month to fully digest all that you've consumed. The good news is that by then, you should be hungry enough to attend the Phantom Gourmet BBQ Beach Party at the end of June. It isn't one-price, all-you-can-eat, but if you like BBQ, then you'll definitely want to check this out. 10 pit masters from around the country set up shop and for about the cost of a slab of ribs at a restaurant, you can sample ribs from each of the BBQ teams.

I attend this event every year with my pals Rob & Tim. It's a fun time - we eat like slobs, get BBQ sauce all over ourselves and after we're done, we talk incessantly about how quickly we'll have to hit the bathroom when we get home. Good times.

This year, the fun takes place on the weekend of Tim's wedding. I believe the plan will be to arrive at the ribfest mid day, eat until we get sick and then head straight to the nuptials. Tim is trying to convince his fiance to have her bridesmaids wear brown dresses, which would enable him to pig out in his tux so the BBQ sauce stains on the shirt won't look out of place. OK, I made that up. But he should.

If you love pork - and who doesn't? - (um, although perhaps in different ways), then this is your time. If you are a vegetarian, please go to church, beg for forgiveness and don't leave until you've seen the light.

What the hell do I do all day?

2009-04-05T12:27:00.020-04:00

"What is PR?"

I've been working in public relations for nearly 13 years and I still get asked that question on a semi-regular basis by friends, family, countrymen, and every so often...myself. So, I figured now was as good a time as any to attempt to explain my occupation. Plus, I was struggling to come up with a good blog topic this week. So, today's blog becomes a giant plug for me and my clients.

I was going to post the definition of PR as adopted by the Public Relations Society of America, which is the world's largest organization of spin doctors. The PRSA is the grand poobah of our profession, comprised of the "best of the best" collection of "professional communicators" who can easily take a ridiculously complicated story and boil it down into a format that everyone can understand. And their definition is 378 words.

Here it is in a nutshell: I get paid to persuade all types of journalists (newspaper, magazines, online, TV, radio, etc) to write or report on my client or their product/service.

At least that is what we do at Schwartz Communications. My actual job is split between speaking with reporters, managing the five teams that I am a part of, and communicating with my clients.

A lot of people wonder if PR is similar to advertising. Not at all, but both functions have the same purpose: to communicate some type of message - "Our software is the best!" "This book will change your life!" "Eli Manning is the Antichrist!" - to the public.

With advertising, that message is completely controlled and paid for: through either an ad in the paper, a commercial on TV or radio, or a banner ad on the internet. It is a direct attempt to sell you something and you know it.

With PR, that message is delivered to the public through a journalist in the form of a story in the paper or on TV. Because reporters are supposed to be impartial folks who are interested only in news that benefits their particular audience, these stories are perceived as significantly more credible than advertising. Although a company's message cannot be completely controlled this way, the way in which it is delivered more than makes up for the loss of total control.

Simply put, ask yourself this: What is going to resonate more?

A full page ad in the paper from Store X that says, "Our prices are the best around!"

A half page article in the same paper by a reporter who analyzed all the stores in the area and concluded that Store X's prices are the best around.

Like most jobs (such as elevator operators), PR can have its ups and downs. The feeling I get when I open the paper and see a story that I convinced a reporter to do is pretty cool. On the flip side, for every reporter I work with on a story, 10 more weren't interested. In baseball, being a .300 hitter (succeeding 30% of the time) will probably land you in the Hall of Fame. In PR, you are a superstar if you bat .100.

And yes, it is frustrating being repeatedly turned down, although my dating life prepared me for a steady onslaught of rejections.

On the flip side, it is not easy being a reporter, as they are deluged with e-mail and phone calls from PR folks all day, and most of what they get is pure crap. However, from my perspective, it is incredibly annoying when I provide a reporter with a legitimate story idea that is not responded to or taken seriously. What do I mean? Glad you asked. Here are the 5 things I am currently working on:

Prostate cancer #1
WHAT IS IT? One of my clients makes a test that can help figure out if a person's prostate cancer is one of the majority that will grow slowly and likely never pose a serious threat or whether it is one of the few that will grow quickly and could result in death.

WHY SHOULD YOU CARE? Because this information, which until now had not been possible to come by, helps doctors figure out if patients need to undergo treatment, which almost always results in really nasty and sometimes permanent side-effects (like impotence and incontinence). Then again, if you're a guy and don't care about having sex and being able to pee without a catheter, you probably don't care.

REPORTER RESPONSE: Reporters who cover prostate cancer consistently talk about the need to tell the difference between benign and aggressive disease, which is exactly what this test does. However, because this test has not yet been the topic of a paper in a leading medical journal, reporters pay it no attention. Despite the fact that we have papers from the same journals proving the science behind the tests works AND there are docs around the country who are currently using it.

Dental impressions
WHAT IS IT? A very cool technology that produces a 3-D digital dental impression by allowing dentists to scan the inside of a person's mouth with a small camera.

WHY SHOULD YOU CARE? Ever have a traditional dental impression taken? It's disgusting: a liquid goop is squirted into your mouth (hey, get your mind out of the gutter) and over the course of 5 minutes, hardens into a putty that is yanked out. Impressions are taken for anyone who needs a crown or bridge, but because the impression is made of putty, it is usually flawed and the resulting crown or bridge almost never fits right, meaning patients have to go back to the dentist all the time for adjustments and/or replacements.

But a digital impression is done in half the time, without the goop and the crown or bridge fits perfectly.

REPORTER RESPONSE: Many TV reporters like this story, because it is extremely visual and easy to tell on television. As for everyone else? Forget it. Know why? Because health reporters typically don't care about dental stories, which are not a matter of "life or death."
Instead of a story on advances in dentistry, which affects just about everyone, reporters write story after story about the rising number of obese people in the world. OK. We get it. Obesity is a problem. Thank you.

Prostate cancer #2
WHAT IS IT? A system that uses technology similar to the GPS in your car to deliver a more accurate burst of radiation treatment in men with prostate cancer.

WHY SHOULD YOU CARE? It is normal for the prostate to move a few millimeters in different directions due to normal physiological functions (coughing, breathing, etc.). When this happens, the radiation beam can end up hitting some healthy tissue or organs right next next to the prostate, leading to some unpleasant side-effects. With this new technology, the exact location of the prostate is known at all times, so if it moves, the radiation beam can be adjusted. A more accurate dose of radiation is delivered and the irradiation of healthy tissue can be avoided.

REPORTER RESPONSE: A slightly diminished argument here. Most of our efforts are focused on working with reporters in cities where this technology is located. For the most part, reporters are eating this story up. However, national reporters tend to avoid stories on specific products because they feel like it basically serves as a commercial for said product. Never mind that it actually, you know, helps people...

Airplane airbags
WHAT IS IT? It's an airbag, rolled up into the seatbelt you wear around your lap. In the event of an impact, it deploys and fills the space between you and whatever is in front of you (seatback, bulkhead, etc).

WHY SHOULD YOU CARE? Because contrary to public perception, most (about 80%) airplane accidents are survivable, as they happen during takeoff or landing, when the plane is closest to the ground and flying at relatively low speeds. In many of these cases, people who die aren't killed by the impact, but by an inability to get out of the plane before they are overcome by smoke and fire, which generally happens after about 90 seconds. Why are they unable to get out of the plane in time? Because they are often knocked unconscious by the impact. The airbag is designed to prevent that from happening.

REPORTER RESPONSE: The airbag has been on the market for 8 years. Because it is not new, most reporters are not in a rush to cover it. This despite the fact that there is just about zero level of awareness in the general public. Does this make any sense to you? However more and more airlines are starting to put these on planes, so to their credit, reporters are at least paying attention.

OSA
WHAT IS IT? OSA stands for obstructive sleep apnea, a disorder that officially affects 18 million Americans (unofficial estimates peg that number between 20-40 million). OSA is a silent killer - most people don't know they have it and up to 90% of those who have it aren't diagnosed or treated.

WHY SHOULD YOU CARE? Because if you have it and don't treat it, you will probably develop other conditions that can shorten your life: heart attacks, strokes, heart disease, high blood pressure, diabetes, kidney disease, etc. In addition, those with OSA may suffer from sexual dysfunction, depression, migraines and are significantly more likely to cause a car accident, due to driving while barely being able to keep their eyes open.

REPORTER RESPONSE: Generally pretty good. Our campaign has facilitated more than 2,000 stories in just about 5 years. However, once a reporter writes about OSA, they generally don't want to cover it again for a long, long time. This despite the fact that new discoveries are made about the seriousness of the condition all the time - links to other diseases, etc. One of the most common things we hear from reporters is, "I already wrote about it, so I'll need at least a year before I cover it again." Of course, the same reporter writes about breast cancer or obesity every other week. In fact, the USA Today has a reporter who only covers obesity and weight loss regimens. It makes no sense: as a nation, we are bigger than ever. But because "weight loss" is a hot topic with health reporters, it will be written about ad nauseum.

Of course, I admit that the examples above are written with bias, as it is my job to promote them. Still, ask yourself: are any of these 5 things so trivial or useless that you wouldn't want to know about them?

Oh, while you are at it, ask yourself one more question: are you still awake?

Bad Parenting 101

2009-03-29T10:26:00.005-04:00

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...

2009-03-22T14:18:00.007-04:00

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.

2009-03-20T08:02:00.002-04:00

Me llamo: El Porko

2009-03-11T08:17:00.006-04:00

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

2009-03-03T19:27:00.006-05:00

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.

Booze

2009-02-24T19:36:00.005-05:00

I discovered the pleasing and nutritional effects of alcohol at a fairly old age - 18 (shhhh...don't tell my dad, he might try a retroactive citizens arrest. Or a real arrest. Not sure if he still has that authority).

While I consumed a drink or two back in the day, the first time I experienced intoxication was in January 1993 - it was the first night back at school following Christmas break. I was a freshman about to start my 2nd collegiate semester. Yes, you read correctly - I spent the first three months of my adult life at one of the country's biggest party schools, and did not once get drunk. In fact, now that I am staring at these words, I feel so pathetic that I can't even come up with a snappy one liner.

Anyway, I somehow ended up at a random gathering in another dorm. And somehow I ended up consuming 13 Busch Lights. The fact that it is possible for a person who has never before gotten drunk to consume 13 Busch Lights ought to tell you a little something about the potency of Busch Light, but I digress. At the end of the night, I somehow stumbled back to my room, although if you have ever seen someone spin their body around the end of a baseball bat and then race down a field, you can get a fair idea of what I mean by "stumbled." Amazingly, I somehow did not get sick.

But I did spend the next 5 days hungover.

I'm not kidding. The party was on Sunday night and I was supremely hung (oh yes, a double entendre) until lunchtime on Friday. I may have consumed a total of 600 calories that entire week, which proves two things. First, I am not a smart man. Second, there may be money to be made by designing a weight loss regimen around really bad beer.

Like most everyone, I have done some pretty dumb things as a result of alcohol, many of which can be found here. Now that I am a responsible adult - albeit one with very few actual adult responsibilities (praise Jesus!) - it is extremely rare for me to drink enough to fully inebriate myself because the negative sensations associated with hangovers far outweigh the positive feelings associated with getting drunk. This is mostly because I have the pain tolerance of France. It just isn't worth it.

Today, I actually imbibe more than ever before, but at a reduced volume. There is something about coming home after a long day, having a drink and relaxing. One drink. Good enough for me.

Interestingly, while most people enjoy a wide variety of cocktails, for me it is either beer, wine or whiskey. Maybe it is because I have always been somewhat hesitant to try new things. Or maybe it's because I don't feel like taking out a loan to afford the gimme-all-your-moneytini at the lounge-of-the-month. I am a bit curious, however. Do other people have as limited a palate for drinks as I do? Or is it common to have a few favorites and stick with what you know?

Fun fact: During my fairly frequent trips to the Holy Land, my alcohol consumption is nill. Why you ask? How could I possible resist free booze, which is readily available in a variety of forms at a casino? Easy.

First, the booze isn't free - you have to be gambling in order to get it, and given that the majority of people play games where the odds favor the house, that "free" drink can actually cost you a few hundred dollars.

Second, as much as I love Sin City as a vacation destination, my time there is a business trip. I am there to make money and remaining sober - thus increasing the small chance that I actually play smartly - is typically more successful than getting plastered. Go figure.

And while you may be tempted to have me examined by a mental health professional for not drinking when in Vegas, just remember: you can't fight genetics.

Things we need... (Part I)

2009-02-19T08:15:00.008-05:00

"Your blog has been resurrected. Just like Jesus." - The Reverend Jennifer Barrett-Siegal

It's worth noting that before I could ask my wife whether we should adopt national holidays to celebrate my blog's birthday, death and subsequent rebirth, I fell asleep.

From time to time I tap the infinite wisdom of my mind and make a discovery so startling and beneficial to humankind, that I must share it in hopes that someone will make it a reality (and pay me royalties). Today is the first of perhaps a never-ending series of blog entries on such realizations. Or perhaps today will be the only entry. When you're as odd as I am, one never knows.

Anywho...how many times have you innocently entered a restroom, cheerful as the day is long, until you are overcome by the most eye-watering, gut-wrenching, near-gagging stench that was left by a recent occupant? This is no ordinary smell, but the remnants produced only by combining subpar Mexican food with 4 too many Golden Anniversaries (editors note: if you don't know what a Golden Anniversary is, you've never gone to college). It's the type of stench that stays with you, in the inner recesses of your mind, haunting you as you sleep, nagging you whenever you realize that a trip to the John is in your future.

Happens to all of us - mostly at work, but sometimes in a public restroom and if you host a party, occasionally your own home. Or, if you are part of my Vegas trips with the guys, it happens on a daily basis. I don't know how much hotel maids make in Vegas, but the poor soul who tidies up after us deserves a raise. And sainthood.

What is the solution to this national nightmare of foulness? My friends, I bring you the future: the Bathroom Foul Odor Illumination System - soon to be known everywhere as the BFOIS (I tried for a long time to come up with an acronym for SHIT - just couldn't do it). The BFOIS is a device that very much resembles a traffic light (ok, it is a traffic light), which is hung on the wall outside the restroom, and connected to a smell-o-meter inside a restroom.

Under normal conditions, the light will be green indicating all is clear and you are ready for a most enjoyable waste removal experience. Should you happen to approach when the bathroom is under less than ideal conditions, the light will be yellow, which will serve as a warning to either slow down or hold your breath. However, if you need to use the toilet and the light is red, entering means taking your life (and the contents of your stomach) into your own hands, knowing that if you proceed, you may be walking into an area where no amount of breath-holding will protect you from the rancid oxygen molecules that are waiting to invade every pore and orifice of your body.

While the BFOIS serves as a warning for prospective restroom occupants, it can also serve as truth-serum for those whose bodily functions are responsible for a red light. How unfortunate would it be too enter a green-lit bathroom with a line of people waiting behind you, only to exit under the devilish glow of red?

With the BFOIS, never again will you have to set foot in the lav, hoping that the air is fresh and the sun is shining. Instead, you will have the information necessary to make an informed excrement decision. You will be happier. Your friends and family will be happier. The economy will be happier.

Chuckle if you wish, mock if you must. But we'll see who is holding their breath on visits to the potty today.

Anyone seen the 24 inch pythons?

2009-02-15T11:37:00.006-05:00

A few months ago, I was saddened to learn of the passing of the great Conrad Efraim. You may remember him as the great Special Delivery Jones, one of the all-time mediocre wrestlers in WWF history.

Yep, you have stumbled upon a post about wrestling. Reports that I can come up with nothing else to blog about are untrue. However, on a recent flight, I caught a few minutes of what passes as wrestling these days. Not sure what channel I was watching, but it could easily have aired on Skinemax. The actual wrestling - which comprised about 25% of the program - was secondary to a hefty dose of "T+A."

Within a few minutes, I had not only changed the channel, but started to think back to the glory days of the WWF - the 1980s. I was just a kid, but I was a big-time fan, along with a lot of other people. In fact, despite the fact that the entire product was fake, the WWF was a strong part of the national sporting culture. Don't believe me? Check this out. Hell, in 1987, nearly 100,000 people attended WrestleMania III."

My dad got me into wrestling in the early 80s. Unlike other 7 year olds who were watching SuperFriends or pining for Smurfette (what a slut), I'd watch the Saturday morning wrestling shows with the old man. For a long time, the WWF used to have monthly events at the old Boston Garden and my Dad and I would go to at least three-quarters of them every year. It was cheap, action-packed, a lot of fun and perhaps most importantly, something that the entire family could watch.

The superstars of the time are well known, including The "Hulkster," he of the 24-inch pythons (biceps), "Rowdy" Roddy Piper (Hulk's archenemy for much of the 80's) , Andre the Giant, "Macho Man" Randy Savage and Ricky "the Dragon" Steamboat. For those of you still reading (anyone?), Macho Man Savage and Ricky Steamboat squared off in what is widely considered the best match of all time, in the aforementioned WrestleMania III. Even though the outcome of the match was pre-determined, the match itself was 20 minutes of non-stop, over-the-top, truly impressive athletic action.

In the glory days, the WWF created PG-rated personas with storylines that can best be labeled as absurd. Notable "tier 2" wrestlers include the Elvis impersonator known as the Honky Tonk Man, George "The Animal" Steele (who, when not eating turnbuckles, was also a high school gym teacher), Koko B. Ware (always accompanied by his maccaw Frankie), the recently-deceased Junkyard Dog and the "tag-team" champions of the era, the British Bulldogs.

And then there were personalities such as Special Delivery Jones, whom calling "mediocre" is like calling Dick Cheney slightly grumpy. Truth is, he was one of the numerous whipping boys that the WWF trotted out to get their tuchus stomped on by the superstars at the time. There was literally dozens of these "jobbers" as they were known in the industry, but "SD" Jones was among the more established ones. Others include Iron Mike Sharpe, (who was named after Iron Mike Tyson. Notice the resemblance?) The appropriately named Mr. X, - who wore a mask and was always introduced as being from "parts unknown." And my all-time favorite jobber, Pete Doherty, otherwise known as the Duke of Dorchester. Doherty was a local who worked full-time at the Quincy Shipyard and several times a year, would be paid a few hundred bucks to spend 5 minutes getting wailed on when the WWF was in town. Rumor has it that Doherty would get loaded before the match so he wouldn't feel as much pain.

See what I mean about this being mostly absurd?

Perhaps my favorite character ever was "The Million Dollar Man" Ted Dibiase. His mantra was that "everyone has a price," so he would inevitably buy whatever he wanted. Baring that, he would use money as a lure to embarrass others. Which leads into my favorite WWF-segment:

Wrestling may be fake, but take a look at that little kid's reaction - something tells me this wasn't pre-determined (although I am sure someone paid him after the cameras stopped rolling). Classic. I loved it. It truly was the glory days.

Today, the WWF is still popular - 75,000 were in attendance for last year's WrestleMania and more than 1 million people watched it on pay-per-view. However, much like everything else in this world, the focus shifted from family-friendly to raunchy. And at the risk of coming across as an old-geezer, some things were just better in the old days.

Learning to Fly

2009-02-12T07:45:00.011-05:00

I've spent much of the past 2 weeks traveling: Seattle and Phoenix for work and down to visit Pops in Florida this past weekend. My journeys have reinforced 2 longstanding beliefs: First,that I still love to fly. Not sure why, but the whole concept of getting on an 8-ton airplane and hurtling through the air at 550 mph is pretty cool.

Back in the days when my bladder wasn't the size of a Raisinet, I would sit in the window seat and spend an inordinate amount of time staring out the window. When I fly United, I spend the entire flight on Channel 9, listening to the cockpit-to-air traffic control communication. Hell, I don't even mind the normal hustle and bustle of an airport.

Second, there are an inexplicably large number of stupid people in this world, and it seems like most of them are conveniently booked on my flights.

The prevailing wisdom is that flying is a hassle at best and downright torturous when things go wrong. Why? Well, it's not the weather or the fact that every seat is taken. It's because other people ruin the experience. Want examples? Well, go figure...I was just about to provide some.

Here's a typical trip:

1) You arrive at the airport and check-in. Thanks to the self-serve kiosks, this is usually quick and painless. Unless, of course, you happen to be taking an airline where there is a line to use the kiosks. Because in this scenario, you will inevitably be stuck behind at least 4 people who, while at the front of the line, are not intelligent enough to march over to one of the 5 open kiosks. Nope, they are waiting for the $7-per hour airline employee to give them the OK. Why? Not sure. Maybe they have mommy issues. ANNOYANCE FACTOR: 7 (out of 10).

2) After wasting an extra 10 minutes at the kiosks, you head over to security. Keep in mind, it's been more than 7 years since 9/11 and the dumbass would-be shoe bomber who couldn't be bothered to blow himself (and the plane) up in privacy. Nope, he had to try to light the fuse while sitting in his seat. Thankfully, he failed. In addition, travelers have not been allowed to bring liquids through security in containers bigger than 3 ounces for several years. So what happens on a typical trip? You get behind a family (with several small kids) that pays no attention to the designated family lane and chooses the "frequent travelers/intelligent people/we-know-what-we're-doing lane." In front of this family is the woman who doesn't realize she has to take off her shoes AND her jacket and in front of her is the college student with the headphones who couldn't be bothered to empty the coins out of his pocket. Apparently, metal detectors 101 is offered as a pass/fail, so extra studying is not required. ANNOYANCE FACTOR: 8.

3) You get to the gate at 12:15 for a flight that is scheduled to leave at 1. No plane. 12:30: no plane. 12:45: no plane. Given that it takes at least 15 minutes for passengers to disembark, 10 minutes for the workers to pick up the scraps and another 25 minutes for the next set of passengers to board, one would think that the ever-alert gate agent might want to make some type of announcement to quell the growing line of people who are wondering just how long a delay they are facing. However, one would be wrong. I've been on several flights where the plane hadn't yet arrived by the departure time. Giving people a head's up is not just good customer service, it's common sense and common courtesy. No surprise then, that it often does not happen. ANNOYANCE FACTOR: 9.

4) Boarding time. The gate agent doesn't so much as get three words out and half the people at the gate head over so they can be first on board when their row or group number is called (it's all about the overhead space). However, rather than maintain some semblance of order and prevent people from boarding out of turn, our intrepid gate agent lets anyone and everyone go through. Chaos ensues. Jon gets mad. On our honeymoon, the flight out of Boston was a 747 (400+ people). The gate agent made one announcement for first class. And then proceeded not to make another. A 400 person free-for-all. Good times. ANNOYANCE FACTOR: 9.

5) You're in your seat waiting to taxi out, but the dilweed in the window seat needs to grab something from his bag in the overhead. ANNOYANCE FACTOR: 5.

6) And then he does it again. ANNOYANCE FACTOR: 10.

7) Time for the announcements. Of course, you inevitably end up with a flight attendant who a) has a ridiculously heavy accent; b) speaks very softly; and/or c) constantly flubs the instructions. ANNOYANCE FACTOR: 7.

8) Unless you happened to be on the Boston-West Palm Beach flight I was on last Friday (also known as the Jewish Shuttle) and you had a flight attendant that took her job a little too seriously. For instance, if 1 millimeter of your bag was not completely under the seat in front of you, she would remind you that it's a FEDERAL REGULATION! that your bag fit COMPLETELY under the seat. A good 10-15 minutes after we took off, an older gentlemen got up to use the bathroom. This flight attendant stopped him just before he was about to open the door and reminded him that if he went in there, he was putting himself at risk for possible injury because it's a FEDERAL REGULATION! that he be in his seat until the seat belt sign was turned off. The poor old guy was so spooked he went back to his seat. Hope he didn't pee himself. ANNOYANCE FACTOR: 10.

9) And then there was the return flight home on Monday. The flight attendant making the announcements had an interesting personality quirk. She could not shut up. In between and following the safety announcements were several minutes of her making small talk, cracking jokes, letting the flight know that she was single (no kidding), etc. ANNOYANCE FACTOR: 10.

10) Doing this on JetBlue, when I am trying to watch TV. ANNOYANCE FACTOR: 15.

11) Female pilots (who probably don't use their turn signal). ANNOYANCE FACTOR: 3.

12) Finally, you've landed at your destination. Time to get off the plane. Except that it takes 30 minutes because half the people in front of you wait until the aisle in front of them is completely clear - and it's their turn to get off the plane - before getting up and spending 45 seconds trying to free their bag from the evil clutches of the overhead compartment. ANNOYANCE FACTOR: 8.

I could come up with a few more, but because the vast majority of my three-known readers are now catatonic, I will refrain. One would think that a little bit of common sense would alleviate many of these issues, but alas, that is wishful thinking. Maybe Obama can wave his magic wand and make all these problems go away. After he fixes the economy and facilitates world peace, of course.

25 Random Things...

2009-02-01T09:47:00.005-05:00

On June 15 of last year, I blogged about wanting to blog more frequently. I then proceeded to add 3 more posts in the next 6 weeks and was never heard from again. Coincidence?

Anyway, now that we're all about change these days...and with football just about over, well, I'm back, baby!

Insert silence here...

The big fad making its way around Facebook these days is to come up with 25 random things about yourself. Not sure if these are supposed to be things that most people don't know about you, or if it's more a collection of, well, random and useless factoids. I am going with the useless route, which makes me eminently qualified to come up with a list of my own. Sure, I could do this on Facebook and "tag" 25 people, but nobody likes to be tagged (well, sometimes it's OK) and besides, I needed something to write about for this blog post. It was either 25 random things or a 7,000 word diatribe on how the country is on a steady path towards socialism, and given all of the Obama-worship, I am safer staying away from that topic....comrade.

And away we go...

1) I started losing my hair while in high school and decided to go bald at age 24.

2) Had I known how much better I would look without hair, I would have started shaving when I was 10.

3) My first dream job? School bus driver.

4) I absolutely hate to write....and yet I chose a career that calls for a fair amount of writing.

5) My fashion sense can best be described as "casual meets I-don't-care."

6) A sizable portion of my close friends were not met in high school or college, but during an 8 year career at Burger King.

7) Yes, Burger King. Yes, 8 years.

8) I've visited Las Vegas approximately 20 times, and it has snowed during 10% of my visits. I am pretty certain there are many locals who can't say they've seen 2 snowstorms in the desert.

9) I once defaced my own (former) car with an SOS pad.

10) My newest favorite channel on XM is CineMagic - it plays movie soundtracks.

11) I am alternately amused and annoyed at the naivete of those who believe that "change" means electing a President who has almost no real power, and then re-electing those in Congress who do have power...and who helped get us into this mess in the first place.

12) I own 13 hats and hardly ever wear them.

13) I used to be an excellent candlepin bowler when I was a kid. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've bowled since I was 18...although lately I've been thinking of maybe getting back into the swing of things.

14) I once almost got arrested for public urination...and providing a fake ID to the cop who caught me.

15) Call me a geek, but I am looking forward to the new Star Trek movie.

16) I don't cry - not at sad movies, TV shows, deaths of people I know, etc. However, if/when anything ever happens to my dog, there won't be enough Kleenex...

17) When I was 10, I had some tummy issues and at one point, was banned from eating any dairy-related product for a month. It is a lot harder than it sounds.

18) I've never picked up a woman in a bar.

19) I can read extremely fast. When I was in my late teens, I would buy a book in the morning, read it, and return it later that day.

20) It is hard to imagine my life getting any better, yet I always find something to gripe about.

21) My suggestion for those into gluttony - the kitchen table at Buca di Beppo.

22) I HATE inconsiderate people, detest political correctness and am not all that enamored with Democrats.

23) I want to retire in Lake Tahoe.

24) One of my all-time biggest blunders - offering to pick up a good friend (and roommate at the time) whose car had just died....if he wouldn't mind waiting until after the Pats game.

25) Yes, I still read. And so should you.

Journalist For a Day

2008-07-30T13:29:00.003-04:00

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

2008-07-27T15:44:00.010-04:00

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

2008-07-06T09:42:00.011-04:00

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...

2008-06-15T11:37:00.009-04:00

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...

2008-05-27T08:26:00.007-04:00

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

2008-05-18T12:12:00.003-04:00

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?

2008-05-10T10:23:00.019-04:00

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

2008-05-06T08:44:00.005-04:00

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.

2008-05-04T16:22:00.007-04:00

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?

2008-05-01T18:15:00.005-04:00

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

2008-05-01T08:46:00.001-04:00

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!

2008-04-27T10:40:00.010-04:00

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

2008-04-21T10:47:00.011-04:00

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!

2008-04-17T08:36:00.003-04:00

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!

2008-04-15T08:23:00.004-04:00

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?

2008-04-12T12:03:00.005-04:00

(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...

2008-04-06T11:49:00.013-04:00

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...

2008-04-03T19:12:00.006-04:00

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

2008-03-27T09:05:00.007-04:00

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?

2008-03-23T10:54:00.009-04:00

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..."

2008-03-21T08:22:00.005-04:00

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!

2008-03-20T07:47:00.007-04:00

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.

And so it begins...

2008-03-18T20:07:00.000-04:00

My aspirations for this blog are reasonable - to become so wildly popular that I can quit my day job and make a six figure living from online ads (all praise Ad Sense!). Baring that, if I can get 12 people to read this on a regular basis, not only will I have succeeded in stoking my ego, I will have succeeded in wasting 12 people's valuable time.

I envision this as somewhat of a blog potpourri - a little bit of this and a little bit of that, as opposed to an overarching theme. That said, I look forward to sharing my witty, sometimes derogatory, and generally clueless thoughts on subjects that I find interesting - politics, the news media (hey, I do work in public relations), poker, my beloved Patriots, other sports, television, food, drink, my wife, friends....and just about anything else.

Which leads me to my first question - did some overstressed tech geek come up with the word 'blog' because calling it a web site was just too much effort?