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.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Me llamo: El Porko
So I am fat. Ish.
OK, maybe not by the literal definition of the word, but more so than I've been in a while. And I am pretty sure that I'm not entirely thrilled with it.
Quick background recap: I spent most of my post-college years with a significant case of abdominal overhang. Mostly due to the fact that I consumed mostly unhealthy foods. A large volume of unhealthy foods. Oh, and I never exercised, which I understand can be bad. Nonetheless, a pretty young minister - who was obviously taking part in a seminary school curriculum on pity - agreed to get married. Inspired, and fearful of losing out on a free house, I decided to drop 30 lbs before the wedding.
So I did. And you know what? It was a pretty simple. I ran 7 miles every weekday and significantly cut back on the amount of food that I ate. Yeah, it sucked getting up every morning at 5 a.m., but that's life. Fast forward a few months, and I am standing at the alter, chugging down the most disgusting wine ever produced, exactly 31 lbs. lighter. I wasn't thin - I'll never be thin - but I looked pretty good. No abdominal overhang.
And now a digression, where I will almost certainly ruffle a few feathers (at least you've been warned). If you are looking to drop some pounds (and not everyone is), eat better and exercise. That's it. There is no secret formula. There is no secret diet. There is no cheating. It's amazing how many people want to look better but are unwilling to put in the work. If you are unwilling to put in the work, don't complain. You have nobody to blame but yourself.
(And if you suffer from some type of physiological condition that renders the above advice moot, please disregard.)
Anyway, for well over a year, I was within 5 pounds of my wedding weight because I kept up my exercise routine - 7 miles per day, every weekday. At that rate, burning 1,100 calories per day on the treadmill, I could eat most anything I wanted (within reason).
However, starting last summer I became a little less maniacal at the idea of getting up so early. And if I am going to run, it will be first thing in the morning - the rest of my day is too busy. 5 days per week became a pretty regular 4 days per week, and then my travel schedule picked up, which meant some weeks I would run only 1 or 2 days per week. And lately, I find it easier than ever to come up with a reason not to get up so early - meaning that most weeks, I am on the treadmill two or three times.
7 miles per day, three times per week, is still pretty good except for one minor detail - I am a mild-to-moderate glutton; at dinner it's two full servings of whatever Jenn makes. If we order pizza, I can easily scarf down a large by myself. Etc, etc.
So it is no surprise that over the past several months, I've been inching up to 10 lbs or so over my wedding weight....and am now getting closer to 15 then to 10.
And I have no one to blame but myself.
On the bright side, I still look and feel a lot better than I did in the past. Plus, I can run 7 miles without huffing and puffing, so that's good.
On the not-so-bright side, I've fallen off the wagon. I liked the way I used to look and don't quite like the way I look now.
So it's gut-check time: re-commit myself, put in the work and get down to my fighting weight? Or keep with the status quo and stay in reasonably good shape with a little softness in the old belly.
I'm leaning heavily towards getting back on the wagon - I will feel better about myself, I will look better and most importantly, I won't have to pay for new pants (once a Jew...).
Of course, I'll probably wait until after my upcoming birthday - and the continuing tradition of manly beef night.
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.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
The Boob Toob
I watch TV. A lot of TV. Part of the reason is that I am a couch potato. Part of the reason is that I live in the burbs and when the weather is lousy, what else is there to do? However, now that Vegas is around, I will certainly get out when the weather improves. Oh, and part of the reason is that I like TV.
I like to tell myself that my love of television was mostly due to my folks splitting when I was 6. Of course, I also use that excuse as the main reason why I don't like vegetables. Make of that what you will.
Having a gigantic high-def TV doesn't help. Nor does it help to have a spouse that frequently works nights and weekends. Yes, that's right: I am now blaming my wife. Make of that what you will.
TV has received a bad rap. Sure, little kids should be doing their homework or playing outside rather than watching cartoons all day. And sure, adults should find the time to exercise, eat right and be good little Hulkamaniacs, but for many, TV is a valuable escape vehicle that enables people to briefly disregard the worries and stresses of everyday life. And rumor has it that everyday life seems to be high on worries and stresses as of late.
Think back to the famous TV shows of your day. When I was old enough to watch TV that didn't involve a Muppet, the Dukes of Hazzard was still popular. Cheers was just getting off the ground. And way back when, the show that followed Cheers was often just as funny. The A-Team ruled the world...and defied the laws of common sense: 402,282 bullets fired; zero people killed.
Due to the rapid proliferation of reality TV, there are so many terrible programs on the air right now, that it's sometimes hard to remember some of the truly awful shows of the past. Anyone remember Greatest American Hero? (bonus points if you can name the singer of the show's theme song without looking. Answer below.) Mr. Belvedere? ALF?? Manimal??? Oh yes, a crime-fighting crusader who can morph into any animal he wishes. Now that I think of it, I'd rather watch that than just about anything on MTV, so that's saying something.
Today, despite the widespread perception that TV will rot the brain, most of what I watch is non-scripted, which means that it must be educational.
My current weekly schedule:
Sunday:
Extreme Makeover, Home Edition - Two reasons why this show rocks. First, it's important to see that goodness still exists (even if it is for ratings). Second, it's fun to guess how many seconds into the show it takes Jenn to start crying.
High Stakes Poker - Real players playing poker for real money. An awful lot of it. As in, tens or hundreds of thousands, per hand.
Iron Chef America - Sure, I wouldn't eat 10% of what is made, but these guys know their stuff.
Monday:
Football (Seasonal)
Baseball (Seasonal)
Basketball (Seasonal)
Hockey (Seasonal)
Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives - One of my favorite shows. Guy Fieri might have one of the best jobs on earth. Right behind the guy who starred in Manimal.
Tuesday:
Fringe - Yep, another sci-fi show, but it's really funny. And most often, really gross.
Wednesday:
LOST - Best show on TV.
Throwdown with Bobby Flay: He became a TV whore, but it's pretty neat to see Flay beat local favorites at their own specialty, with only a day of practice.
Thursday:
Survivor - The show is in it's 18th edition, and the contestants make the same dumb decisions every time. You'd think that when playing for $1 million, they'd do a little homework.
CSI - I miss Grissom, but Morpheus has settled in nicely.
Friday:
Terminator (Sarah Connor Chronicles) - This show is getting killed in the ratings; too bad.
Dog Whisperer - Not only do I watch this show, Vegas sometimes will sit on the couch and stare at the TV for the entire hour. I'm serious. Ask Jenn. Better yet, ask Vegas.
Battlestar Galactica - Another outstanding show that wraps up in a couple of weeks.
Miscellaneous:
Daily Show/ Colbert Report - Far better than any other late night program. Guaranteed to have several laugh out loud moments every night. Tivo and watch on the weekends.
Deadliest Catch - It's strange: every episode is almost identical, but it's amazing to watch those guys do their job.
Phantom Gourmet - The program has poor production values, is shameless in plugging their own advertisers and the host is annoying as hell. But they focus mostly on food that will kill you, which makes it A-OK in my book.
Add it up and it comes to only 5 scripted programs for the entire week. However, it should be noted that most of these programs are DVR'd and not watched as they air. So while the rest of the cultured people are out and about - learning a new skill, indulging in a hobby, making the world a better place - I am settled comfortably on the couch furthering my understanding of fole gras and how giant slugs can crawl up a man's throat and out his mouth. Take that, you losers.
Answer: Joey Scarbury.
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.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Booze
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.
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.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Things we need... (Part I)
"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.
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.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Anyone seen the 24 inch pythons?
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.
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.
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