Shaved

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

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

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...

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?

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

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

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.