Who Died?

Real quick one today as I leave for my trip to Belgium, Holland, and Luxembourg in a few hours. I was driving home the other day and noticed a flag at half mast. Of course, I asked myself, "Who died?" I had no idea; it wasn't 9/11 and I don't think W died (Although I am skeptical that people would even honor him with the flying of the flags at half mast but that's the subject of another blog post entirely). Then it occured to me; I think all flagpoles should be outfitted with a small marquee at the top with a place for a name so everyone can say to themselves, "Who died? Oh, John Q. Public died. I have no idea who that is but I am going to go home and Google him so I can pay him proper respect."

What do you think? Anyone out there want to invest in my new flag pole company?

Kiss My Grits

They say people should leave the world a better place than when they came into it, right? Most people probably fail to do this. I mean really, what have you done to improve the world? Everyone can't invent the telephone or find a cure for polio. Which reminds me of a funny scene in Curb Your Enthusiasm when Larry David is talking about Jonas Salk's mother (Dora in case you were wondering). He said that when she would go out to lunch with her girlfriends and they would all talk about what their children are doing. My son just bought a car, my daughter just had a baby, my son just got married, and then Mrs. Salk says, "Little Jonas just found a cure for polio." That sure would shut the other yentas up. He was Jewish by the way. I wonder if disliked Christmas songs being played in November too?

Anyway, when I was in 12th grade I had study hall first period of the day. This kind of sucked because you didn't have any homework yet that you could do so you wouldn't have to bring any books home and you still had to come in for homeroom because they wouldn't let you sleep late and come in for the beginning of second period. Idiots. Anyway, we used to sit around talking about stupid things and one day I decided that I wanted to come up with something that would change the world and culture. What brilliant idea did I come up with?

Some sneezes. The following exchange takes place:

"Achoo"

"Bless you"

"Thank you"

"You're welcome"

I wondered why does it have to stop there? I decided that we should add something else to the exchange...something following "You're welcome." And what did I decide should be the next phrase that enters the English lexicon? "Grits." That's right, I thought it would be really funny if we just started saying "Grits."

"Achoo"

"Bless you"

"Thank you"

"You're welcome"

"Grits"

Let's just say it only worked for a week or two before we decided it was the stupidest thing ever conceived by man. But now on to the purpose of my post. My buddy got married a few weeks ago and I just received his thank you note for the the lovely gift I gave him. As I was reading it, I began to wonder why they don't sell "You're Welcome" cards. I would buy these. Wouldn't this be hilarious. And who knows, maybe one day the "You're Welcome" cards will be standard and they will start selling "Grits" cards.

I highly doubt it but one can always hope. And as I lay on my death bed, I can close my eyes knowing that I left the world a better place. Take that Jonas Salk.

O.J. Simpson...Not A Jew

If I did it, here's how I did it... Just kidding, you can't honestly tell me that you wouldn't have bought that book or at least watched the two-part special on FOX. You might say you wouldn't but deep down you know you are curious. But I digress.

That's right folks. It's the weekly daily double. Two blog posts this week because I am in the office. But don't worry I will be out next week and in the following week so you should be able to get your fill of Jordon's Deep Thoughts.

They say there are two subjects you should never discuss at a party: politics and religion. I think I've already discussed the former in this forum so why not dip into the other taboo. Anyway, today's post may be a result of my Jewish upbringing but I think it's time for the airing of grievances of behalf of all Jews out there.

First of all, let me state that I enjoy Christmas songs. Now this probably is a result of there only really being two Hanukkah songs: "Dreidel Dreidel Dreidel" and "The Hanukkah Song". Personally I really enjoy Weird Al's "The Night Santa Went Crazy" and The Waitresses' "Christmas Wrapping". I always sing that latter when it comes on the radio. So what's my beef you may ask? Well when I was driving home for Thanksgiving a few weeks ago I heard Christmas songs on the radio. Bear in mind I was driving home 3 days BEFORE Thanksgiving!!!

You know I can live with the Christmas songs once December starts, I can even live with the Christmas songs starting on Black Friday, but give this Jew a break. I've come to accept the fact that Jews are the minority and it doesn't really bother me when naive people ask me how my Christmas was even though they know I don't celebrate. But use your brains a bit, I mean, even J.C. was a Jew.

So to all my gentile friends, do you start playing the songs earlier and earlier each year just to see what you can get away with and how much you can piss off the Jews? Or do you start playing the songs earlier and earlier each year because you assume there is only one religion? Or do you start playing the songs earlier and earlier each year because you just don't care. I'm betting it's the latter but I welcome your feedback on this Deep Thought because I think most Jews are too scared to ask.

Have a Merry Christmakwanzakah!!! Mele Kalikimaka. Whatever, it doesn't matter.

Bad Seamen

You had to read that one twice, didn't you? Don't worry, the spelling is correct. Well my weekly jaunt around New England continued last week as I spent a couple days in Gloucester. That is pronounced "Glosta" for those of you not well versed in the diction of the region. Did you know Gloucester is the oldest settlement in Massachusetts? 1623 to be exact. Gloucester is also the setting for the George Clooney movie The Perfect Storm. And this brings us to today's post.

The hotel I was put up in was more like a psycho ward than a cheap hotel room. There was no phone, the sheets smelled like vomit, and the only light in the room flickered as if hanging in a long, poorly lit hallway. But as my boss said it was only $60 a night so think of all the money we save on the budget. Yeah, thanks. So in addition to being the oldest settlement in Massachusetts, Gloucester is also the birthplace of the American fishing industry. Did you Gorton's was founded in Gloucester?

So here's the interesting part of my trip. The town claims to have lost over 10,000 fishermen since 1623 to the sea. They recently erected a monument along the promenade entitled Man at the Wheel (see above). In front of the sailor in this picture is a cenotaph (great Scrabble word) listing the names of all the men lost at sea including the members of the Andrea Gail, which was made famous in the George Clooney movie. The city plays it off as how the city is cursed and the men of Gloucester are heroes. Don't get me started on this one again. Maybe the townspeople need to rethink their position. Did they ever think that maybe everyone in Gloucester is just a bad seaman. These men are like lemmings, which is probably one of the greatest computer games ever made by the way. Think about it for a second. 10,000 people die in 383 years. That comes out to one every other week doing the exactly the same thing. No offense Gloucester, but I think maybe your citizens should think about taking a sailing course or two.

I mean really, what's worse than some bad seamen going down?

Like I Said...

Celebrity look alike.

Very Nice!!!

Wow. After a long layoff from blog posting, I am at home in Fort Washington, PA in the good old U.S. and A. I took a couple days off this week since I have some vacation to use up. As you know I have been working in Maine the last few weeks. Last week was Kennebunkport, home of George W. the elder. I imagine it is very nice there in the summertime but not so much in the falltime (see previous post). The Bush compound was on lockdown and there were plenty of black Chevy Suburbans and security cameras at the gates.

I spent the week at the Hampton Inn in Wells, ME. Since it rained everyday and was really cloudy, the boat captain and I were back in port by 3 pm because it was already dark. One day we decided to catch the matinee showing of Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan. While watching the movie, which is hilarious by the way, I realized something. I started getting this funny feeling, like I had some sort of connection to the film apart from the constant anti-semetic jokes and then it hit me; my father was staring in this movie. I spend countless seconds wondering what my father does with his retirement. He says that he is never bored and now I know why. Ladies and gentlmen, may I present to you, Alan Cheifet, celebrity look alike.

English Is A Funny Thing

Real quick post today. I am actually in the office. You probably read all of my posts and wonder if I am telling the truth when I say that I spent the last week walking the shoreline. Well here you go, actual photo documentation of me walking the shoreline. This is in Portland, ME to be exact and it was a glorious day. We actually spent the morning looking at harbor seals from a boat. And yes, I was getting paid for all of this.

Quick note that might make you feel better if you are jealous at all. About 30 seconds after this photo was taken I slipped on the rocks and fell flat on my back with my leg bent at a weird angle. Unfortnately for you, because I go to the gym all the time my fall was cushioned by my huge back muscles.

So let me pose this one to you: we all say, "...first of all." And sometimes we say, "...second of all," but that is mostly as a joke to emphasize how important both points are. Now my question is have you ever said, "...third of all?" I doubt it. And if you have you must have sounded like a complete fool. Tomorrow: the correct usage of further and farther.

Have a good weekend!

D.U.I./D.O.A.

Greetings and salutations from our easternmost state. Maine for those of you who are geographically impaired. I have been working up here the past two weeks doing a project for FEMA to re-map the flood zones for the insurance companies. Basically how much money you have to pay in taxes because of how close your house is to high waves. It's actually pretty interesting and I don't have to sit behind a desk. Actually I get to ride around in a boat all day, breathe fresh air, and look at seals. All the while I am getting paid.

So as we were cruising along, the captain and I started discussing drinking...of course. This idea originally came to me while reading my cousin's blog (see below). Here is my dilemma. Let's say you are driving along and you run over a drunk guy who has passed out in the street. Now let's say this guy is really drunk, almost to lethal levels. This could be any college student on a Friday or Saturday night. You call an ambulance and while the guy is being taken to the hospital he dies.

But here is the catch. He dies of internal injuries sustained from the collision but he would have never been hit in the first place had he not been intoxicated. Who is at fault here? Kind of a Catch-22 I would say. If any of my readers are lawyers, soon-to-be lawyers, paralegals, or have any interest in law, then I would really like to get your input on this topic. Personally I would say the drunk guy is at fault for public intoxication. What are your thoughts?

Got Milk?

I was about to write my blog post for this week and my roommate Tom just dropped his cell phone in his bowl of cereal. I wonder if the warranty covers that one? I would go with no.

Also, I have been so busy running around for work that I haven't had a chance to really apply my full creative strengths towards the blog. And now I find out that I will be in Maine all week for work. But hey, I will be sitting in my hotel room all night by myself so there will be plenty of time to get my creative juices flowing. Of course it will probably end up being like Misery and my car will slide off some road and some woman who secretly reads my blog will keep me hostage in her living room all winter.

Anyway, a few weeks ago you may remember that I wrote a post about whether or not blind people cleanup the poop their guide dogs make. Well I have the answer for you. My dad's friend Bob has a blind wife named Kim to whom he posed the question and he passed it along to his wife who happily answered. So here we go:

Yes. Blind people do try to pick up after their dogs. "It" will be found right behind the dog's butt. They usually know when he is dumping, because most dogs do a doodle dance prior to taking a dump. This is where they circle around a few times. Also, they know when he is peeing, because you can hear that. If not peeing, must be a dump.

I would think a problem might arise when the dog is a "walker". Anyone familiar with dogs, knows that some dogs tend to move, or walk, while they are dumping. There may also be an issue if the dog pees and dump at the same time. Hearing the pee, they may be unaware that the dog dumped.

Kim got Oliver [guide dog] from -

http://www.freedomguidedogs.org/

This is a smaller organization which does training at the persons home rather then at some institution. This makes more sense since they are being trained where the dog will be used. I give them money every year. They are a small org, with very low overhead.

So there you go. I kind of feel mad that someone was really able to answer one of my deep thoughts.

My Favorite Day

A little history lesson for you with tomorrow being my half-birthday and all. That's right, tomorrow morning at 6:30 I will officially be 26.5 years old. You can send your e-cards to jordon@comcast.net. Did you know that a half-birthday is one of many unbirthdays, to use Lewis Carroll's term from Through the Looking Glass for any day that is not a person's real birthday?

Quick funny story. When I was in 8th grade my friend Mike would bring in doughnuts whenever he could convince his teachers to let him. Pretty much every class would end with, "Can we have a party tomorrow?" Now that I look back on school, I realize that the teachers just didn't have enough material to teach everyday so they would just let the kids have parties or watch movies that were totally disparate from what we were supposed to be learning.

So I was sitting in English class one day and Mike came by to drop off his baseball uniform. Of course, he had doughnuts with him and tossed one to me across the entire room. The teacher asked him why he had doughnuts and he said it was his half-birthday. Mr. Lower did not like this wise ass answer one bit. But it gets better. One week later Mike stopped by with more doughnuts. Mr. Lower asked him, "Mike, what are you doing here again?" "It's the one week anniversary of my half-birthday."

So you see folks, no matter what the day, there's always reason to celebrate. I'll be expecting another e-card 7 days from now.

Let's Go State

What an insane weekend! I made trip to Happy Valley for TailGreat '06. It was very exciting. I was able to leave work early on Friday, which is a good thing because my brain was ready to melt after a full week of real, actual work. I made it to my brother's apartment around 8:30 in the evening. After a quick hello to drop my stuff off, Leric and I went to one of my favorite eateries from my college days: D.P. Dough. They sell calzones for those of you not familiar. This was my first reality check that I have, in fact, become the "creepy old" alumnus trying to hold on to those days gone by.

I used to order the Happy Valley Zone. It was basically a chicken parmesan calzone. I used to order two because then you got a free can of Coke with it. Anyway, much to my chagrin, they no longer have the Happy Valley Zone. The guy working behind the counter told me that they changed the name of it four years ago. When did I graduate? Four years ago. A small tear began to roll down my cheek.

So after some X-pong (See previous post); about 8 hours of tailgating; some windy beer pong (Beirut for those of you from New England); multiple shotguned beers; some new golf ball/horseshore game that I can't remember the name of but Leric called it Monkey Balls; and getting to sit in the student section for the Penn State-Michigan game (which they lost 17-10); I met my ex-girlfriend at the Lion's Den for a drink. I had never been to the Lion's Den while I was in school and now I know why.

While at the bar I discovered something interesting. Ok. You are at a bar with one friend and it's pretty crowded but you don't know anyone else. You are standing around talking and then your friend says to you that they are going to the bathroom. This leaves you defenseless. Am I the only one who dreads this moment as you are standing there with nobody to talk to? You look around, check your watch, look at your cell phone so it looks like you are important, take a drink, do some quick people watching, take another drink, and then breath a sigh of relief when your friend comes back. Has anyone else ever experienced this? Or do most normal people immediately go up to a stanger and spark up a new coversation? Am I just a total loser? Actually, don't answer that last one. Please let me know your feelings on this.

Note: This feeling can also be extended to any social situation. Think about a family event with lots of old people and distant cousins who your parents know but you have never seen them before but they know everything about you. Maybe a work-related function where you get stuck standing next to someone you never talk to in the office.

Pure Genius

I don't know what is going on in my life recently. My job is actually keeping me busy for 8 hours a day. What's up with that? I've never had a job like this before...very un-Cheifet-like. I have been so busy this week that I didn't even have a chance to do my weekly blog post. So you should feel honored that I am sitting on my couch typing for you right now. I think this is a first.

Anyway, you may have heard that a new movie is coming out entitled "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan." It looks very funny and people have been telling me a lot recently that I look a lot like Borat himself. I mean I do wear a similar bathing suit and the ladies do love me. I don't see the resemblence. Must be the body hair and moustache.

So I was watching Da Ali Show the other night (birthplace of Borat) and he was interviewing some big time Federal attorney. The interview was pretty funny and then got on to the topic of the death penalty. Personally I think the justice system could save a lot of tax payer dollars by just giving the jury foreman a loaded gun. "We find the defendant guilty. BANG!" Done. Cost of bullet: 35 cents. But I digress. Ali G posed a question that I found extermemly worthy of being posted on Jordon's Deep Thoughts.

Ali G: Do you really get a last meal before being put to death?

Attorney: Yes, you really do.

Ali G: So why not just order the all-you-can-eat buffet, then they can never kill you?

Genius I tell you. Pure genius.

The Road Not Taken, Eh!

Wow!!! My deepest appologies to you, my readers. I have been slacking in the blog post department lately. I don't really have an excuse other than not having any time to really put together a quality post for you. I mean don't get me wrong but I don't spend my time away from work writing blog posts...that is Jordon-time. I'm currently working on a project where I have to put captions on about 10,000 photos of New York City waterfront structures. My brain has officially melted as I felt a little bit of it drip out of my ear the other day. Not to worry though, the Jordon's Deep Thoughts region of my brain is alive and well and ready to again crank out regular posts. So without further adieu, I present the first blog post of the 2007 fiscal year.

A few years ago I got a National Geographic special edition. The writers and photographers of the magazine were surveyed and had to submit their favorite places that they had been sent on assignment. The responses were assembled into a list of the "100 Places To Visit Before You Die." As I read through the glossy pages, I realized that I had been to a lot of them. I mean it was only 20 or so but considering I was only 24 at the time I figured I was way ahead of most people my age.

You see my parents were always the adventurous traveling-type. They personified the Robert Frost poem The Road Not Taken. (Included here for your reading pleasure)

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

So what does this have anything to do with this post? Well you see, like many, I have developed a list of "Things I Want To Do Before I Die." The list isn't long. Most of them involve traveling to some exotic place that my friends have never been. I just want to be able to say, "Yup, I've been there," or "Yup, I've tried that." Most people laugh when I tell them I want to go to every state or swim in all of the world's oceans. But I say to myself, "You can read everything about the World, but until you actually see it with your own two eyes (one if you are a cyclops), you haven't lived." So not to get too philosophical on you but that my friends brings us to today's post.

One item on my list is to travel to the extreme points of the United States. I have been to the northernmost and southernmost points. Next on the list was the easternmost: West Quoddy Head Lighthouse in Lubec, ME. First of all, Maine is huge. Go ahead, take a look at it. My cousin and I decided we were going to take a roadtrip this past weekend up to Maine to visit the easternmost point. You can read his account of it because this post is long enough as it is (See link at right). Not only did we visit Maine but we went all the way to Prince Edward Island in Canada.

What in the world is in Prince Edward Island that would make me want to drive all the way their and back in one weekend? The answer is pretty simple: nothing. That's right, the only reason I went was to check something off my list. Yeah I spent 28 of a possible 48 weekend hours in a car but so what. Otherwise I would have been sitting on my ass watching television. Of course the border police couldn't believe that we driving all the way to Canada just to "see as many provinces as possible" but that was the truth.

Nothing too funny came of this trip. We had to pay a $36 toll to cross a bridge. We decided that only 5,000 Americans could name all of the Canadian provinces and their capitals (Now it's 5,002). We ate at an American and Canadian Subway in the same day. "Jordon, that sounds like the biggest waste of time. Why would you waste a weekend driving to Canada and back?" you may ask. And in the words of Sir Edmund Hillary, "Because it was there."

Royale With Cheese

Well the week is winding down and tomorrow is the autumnal equinox, also known as the official end of summer. I can definately feel a crispness in the air as falltime (see previous post) marches in. Makes me think of palying in the leaves, football, and Halloween. I figured before the weekend comes I would put a quick post up just in case you were staring at the clock on Friday afternoon and waiting for 5 o'clock.

I'm sure you have fond memories of going to McDonald's as a kid and knocking off a 20 piece McNuggets like it was nothing. I sure do. Long gone are those days. I also remember being amazed that the marquee outside of the McDonald's had the number of hamburgers sold. Who was counting these? Was there one guy who had this job? For years the one near my house would count up until eventually it simply read "billions and billions served." Did the hamburger counter guy get fired or did he die? This kind of made me sad because as a little, dorky engineer-to-be, I wanted to know the exact number. To this day, those McDonald's marquees either read "billions and billions served" or "over 99 billion served." A true travesty.

Anyway, you would think in this day and age, with all the technology available, that McDonald's could install an electronic marquee with a real-time counter on it. This wouldn't be too hard. It would just get the number from the central McComputer (although McPuter is way cuter sounding) and post it on the screen. This would make me happy and I'm sure it would make those millions of fat, overweight, super sized Americans happy too.

So have a good weekend, it's the first of autumntime! (see previous post)

The Blind Leading The Blind

Time to get old school on you folks. I noticed recently that my posts have been more rants than deep thoughts about life. It's just difficult when the world around us is filled with so many idiots. Luckily, you have someone like me to assemble all of these stories into one neat package. So here we go.

As far as I know, the Cheifet family has never been big on giving to charity but my Mom always gave to the Guide Dog Foundation for the Blind and I always thought they were worthy of my inheritance. Just seems to me that this non-profit has a clear goal in sight (no pun intended). Say you give money to the Red Cross. It goes into some huge account where it is probably spread out so thin that your money all goes to free orange juice, free doughnuts, or those little "I Gave Blood Today" stickers they give out. Not exactly what you had in mind when you wrote that check.

The Guide Dog Foundation for the Blind on the other hand has a simple mission. Right from their website: Since 1946, the Guide Dog Foundation for the Blind has provided guide dogs free of charge to blind people who seek enhanced mobility and independence. What could be more simple than that? They get money and they spend it on training the dogs. And who doesn't love puppies?

As usual, I was driving to the gym yesterday and saw a blind person on the sidewalk with their guide dog. I noticed one thing that stood out to me: the person had a plastic bag in their hand. So of course this got me thinking. Do blind people have to pick up after their guide dog? Is there a subsection of the law that looks the other way on this? Assuming they do have to pick up after their guide dog, how do they know where "it" is? If anyone knows a blind person with a guide dog, could you please ask them? This is something that I am very curious about.

America The Stupid, Part Deux

I don't know what has gotten into me but I am just full of opinions this week. Must be that my mind is fully refreshed from vacation. Just like Frank Costanza's fictional holiday of Festivus, it's time for the airing of grievances. That's right America, I have a few problems with the way you operate...mainly how stupid you are. This blog post is the result of three separate emails/occurances in the last few days.

The first email was from my cousin, who I have inspired to start his own blog (see link below). He responded to my 9/11 rant by saying that us Cheifet's are often seen as insensitive but the bottom line is that we say it how it is. That's right, we are a bunch of straight-shooters, no bullshit. The second email was from my mom who was wondering why I didn't do a 1-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina post. As you might have guessed, I have an opinion on this one too. Allow me to explain.

As we all know, the Gulf Coast got slammed by a Category 5 hurricane last year. It was truly a tragedy. Thousands of people lost their homes and other invaluable possessions during the hurricane and subsequent flooding. Therein lies my grievance with the whole thing. It seems that everyone (including the media) forgot that these people in New Orleans lived below sea level!!! Hello, what do you expect to happen when you live below sea level? Did these people not think there was a chance that flooding might happen sooner or later? I almost want to say, "I told you so."

This goes back to my definition of "heroes" from the other day. When you knowingly accept risk and those percentages play out, no one is at fault other than you and luck. Sure, it's terrible that these people died or lost everything they had. I mean, these people in California who build their houses on the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Every year there are mudslides and someone's home goes tumbling down the side of a mountain yet they continue to build there just for the view. Do I feel bad for them losing their homes? Yes. Do I feel bad for them for being stupid and building their house where they know it's probably going to get destroyed? Not at all.

The third encounter happened at the gym on Monday. For some reason my gym gives out free pizza on the first Monday of each month. People + Gym = Healthy. People + Pizza = Not Healthy. Gym + Not Healthy People = More Money. I thought this idea was pretty bad until I got on the stationary bike and the guy sitting next to me was pedaling and eating pizza at the same time!!! How do you expect to lose weight if you are eating pizza while exercising? Only in America.

So in conclusion. If you do something stupid and wonder why you got fucked in the end, then there is only one person you can blame: yourself. Or the media.

Only 364 Days To Go

First of all, congratulations to all of you who correctly identified yesterday's book quote. Your extra credit points are in the mail.

So 364 Days until what you may ask? The 6th Anniversary of September 11th of course. I said in yesterday's post that I would refrain from telling you how I really feel about Septmeber 11th, so as not to offend any of you, the readers. But a comment left by one of my readers inspired me to rethink my postition on this matter. Not how I feel but how I didn't want to offend anyone. The comment made me come to two conclusions. First, more people than I thought agree with me but are probably too scared to speak up for fear of offending someone. Second, to quote my Mom's favorite songstress Lesley Gore, it's my party and I'll cry if I want to. That's right. It's my blog and I will write what I want. If you don't like it, then get your own blog. Remember, this is America!!! I can write what I want and you, the reader, can write back whatever praise or criticism you want.

Speaking of which, if you are going to leave a comment, please sign your name in some way. "Anonymous" doesn't really help me. And this way I can thank you personally and know where to send your extra credit points.

Anyway, I would like to leave you with my little rant on September 11th that resulted from the aforementioned comment. Please feel free to form your own opinion on the subject because remember, "It ain't us, it's the media." (Extra credit for identifying that quote too)

My feeling is that the media has blown the whole thing way out of proportion and just uses it for ratings and money.

I mean, yeah, it makes me really sad and mad to think of what happened that day. In Hawaii on Pearl Harbor Day they lay some flowers like you would with any death and that's it. For instance, I went with my Dad in December '01 to visit ground zero and there were hundreds of street vendors selling 9/11 merchandise. Sure, that's real sensitive. I'm sure it all went to the victim's families.

Also, I was watching tv last night and came across a show on the flight that crashed PA. They were going through every person on there and giving a background of them. It made me sick. I mean, yes we know people died and obviously each one had a story but we shouldn't have to re-live the death every year. It's like having a gut-wrenching funeral every year for 3,000 people. You don't have a funeral for [dead] family members every year. Maybe light a candle, take some flowers to the cemetery, say a prayer.

I also think the term "heroes" has been used way too liberally. Now you are probably already thinking that I am some insensitive guy with no heart. I have tons of respect for the fire and police and military. I just don't think they are "heroes" for dying doing something they signed up for knowing the risks. They are certainly great individuals who deserved to be honored for risking their lives serving the people. A "hero" to me is someone who goes above and beyond what they are expected to do. If say a civilian tried to rescue people from a burning building, then that is a hero to me. A fireman knows he could die in a building during a rescue and accepts that risk. The guys who took out the terrorists on the PA plane so they couldn't crash it into the White House, they are heroes.

That's just my opinion and you are welcome to disagree with it. If you still want to talk to me after my little rant, feel free to respond.

So in the words of probably the worst Weekend Update host ever, "That's my story and I'm sticking to it." Have a great 1 day Anniversary of the 5 year Anniversary of September 11th!

And So It Goes

First and foremost, I would like to announce that I have updated my profile to say 20 countries. That's a big milestone. I think...

Second, I will refrain from making any references to 9/11 or the heroes today. Most of you know my feelings on that whole thing. And with all of my new readers from so many backgrounds and with so many different political views I don't want to make any politically incorrect or insensitive remarks. For that please go to my favorite politically incorrect and insensitive website: www.tshirthell.com.

Ok, enough of that, let's move on. That's right folks. It's time to inject a little culture into the blog posts. Extra credit for anyone who knows what book the title of this blog post is from. I'll give you a hint, it was over 100 pages.

So I am back from Central America. Tan, relaxed, and full of funny blog posts to make your daily grind at work more bareable. What a crazy time it was. And to think, I didn't have any major surgery in a country where I didn't speak the native language. Although, the taxi driver said my Spanish was much better than his English. So take that Leric. This trip also made me a little sad and brought back a very strong feeling of nostalgia for Hawaii. It's been a while since I have been able to wear the same pair of board shorts and the same pair of Locals flip flops everyday. It's also been a while since I could wear no shirt into a restaurant for dinner. But hey, at least the leaves are changing soon. I guess. Anyway...

If you have ever seen the movie Medicine Man with Sean Connery (I doubt you have), then you are familiar with the canopy adventures popular in the rain forests of Central and South America. Let me tell you that it was awesome and I didn't even have to talk with a funny Welsh accent; although, I did have the hairy chest going for me. Other outdoor activities included horseback riding, surfing, hiking, and rappelling down a waterfall (see above).

So you're probably thinking, what does "and so it goes" have anything to do with Costa Rica and everyone's favorite blog protagonist? Read the book and you will know. So, in spite of travelling to another country some 2,300 miles away, I was not able to escape being hit on by a man. That's right! Local surf bum Justin, in between trying to peddle some crappy "native" art, proceeded to tell me that I must be a an American football player because of my big muscles. A little creepy to say the least, especially since it was in broken English and he said hello each morning as I walked by to go to the beach. Oh well, I guess I just need to learn to accept that I am desireable to 100% of the population and not just 50% like everyone else. And so it goes...

Nerd Alert!

In case you didn't know I will be on vacation next week. Costa Rica baby!!! I hope you are all jealous while you are sitting in your tiny cubicles, tiny offices, or open office environments. I, instead, will be swinging around the jungle canopy with the monkeys. Since I will be away I would like to leave you with something to think about and take with you throughout your life rather than just something you read once, laugh, and then go back to your interent porn.

Wow, what a segue. Speaking of interent porn, I got an email from my dad's friend the other day. The subject matter, surprisingly and unfortunately, was not interent porn. Instead, it was a quiz about everyday things that most people should know but don't. The questions included: "In which hand is the statue of liberty holding the torch?"; "What color stripe is at the top of the American flag?"; and "Which way does the water spin down the toilet?" I took exception to this last question because its status as an urban legend is well documented. There was even an episode of the Simpsons (Bart vs. Australia) when they go to Australia and the U.S. Embassy has a machine that makes sure the toilet flushes clockwise like back in the U.S.A.

Well let me give you the correct answer so you can tell anyone you run into what is actually going on. The truth lies with the French mathematician Gaspard-Gustave Colriolis (1792-1843) who discovered the phenomenom that bears his name: the Colriolis Effect. The truth is that if you imagine the Atlantic Ocean as a big toilet bowl, then yes, the water does spin clockwise in the Northern Hemisphere and counterclockwise in the Southern Hemisphere. But on the scale of your American Standard toilet bowl, factors such as the geometry of the toilet; whether it is flat or tilted; and the direction in which water was initially added to it control which way the water drains. Sorry.

Armed with this new fact you can impress all of your friends at the bar with your knowledge of the world around you. Actually, you would probably get beaten up for knowing this so you should just keep it to yourself and have another beer. Mmmmm...beer.

P.S. The answers are right, red, clockwise.

Who is Jaleel White?

Hope everyone had a good week. I sure did. You know what they say, when the cat is away the mice will play. So much interent surfing. I even found time to fit in a yoga session. For those of you who know me it sure wasn't to help me relax because that is the last thing I need. I am doing it to increase my flexibility and and core strength.

This brings me to a quick little tangent which will lead us to a segue and eventually to today's post. Got all that? Please, come along.

(Tangent) I was talking to my buddy who is having his bachelor party this weekend. He asked me what I have been up to and I told him that I went to a yoga class. I told him that it was pretty hard because I am not that flexible and have never been able to touch my toes in my life. We both laughed and he said that he couldn't either and that it always prevented him from getting the Presidential Fitness Certificate in middle and high school gym class. One time he cheated though and got it.

(Segue) This is that same guy who almost won a car by making a half court shot at a Penn State basketball game.

(Today's Post) So this got me thinking. Remember all of those great tv shows from the late 80s/early 90s that involved some sort of David vs. Goliath sporting event? I can think of the Saved By The Bell episode where A.C. Slater wasn't sure he wanted to wrestle anymore and Screetch had to do it. Only right before getting his ass kicked Mario Lopez came out in his singlet and won the match.

Quick side note. Is there any doubt that Mario Lopez was taking steroids during that show? Nobody in my high school ever had muscles like that...unless they were taking steroids.


And my personal favorite. The episode of Family Matters where Steve Urkel hooks up with Grandma Ma (aka former Charlotte Hornet Larry Johnson) to beat Eddie Winslow after Eddie wouldn't take Steve on his team. So what does all of this have to do with today's post? Why is the gym in any tv show always so small. One dribble and they are across half court? There is always one row of bleachers and that's it. Do the producers think we won't notice such inaccuracies? I sure do and it just drives me nuts. At least the gym in Teen Wolf was big!

Fun Fact: Jaleel White is best friends with the much maligned former Philadelphia Eagle Freddie Mitchell from their times spent together at UCLA.

Hey Fellow Writers, Listen Up

I know, I know. You are anxiously waiting for a new post so you can keep abreast of my weekend adventures. Was it another gay man trying to pick me up? Nope, sorry everyone. This weekend was an adventure of a different kind. It was a adventure for all of the senses. I ventured down to New York City for a Paul Van Dyk concert in Central Park. In case you don't know, Paul Van Dyk is one of the most popular djs in the entire world. He plays really fast techno music and just kicks ass. I am sad to say but I think it just supplanted the Men At Work concert I saw at Penn State. My appologies to Colin Hay.

Anyway, on to the post. This is actually something that has bothered me for years but I never had the forum to express my true feelings. I guess as I walking down the street in New York City with all of the advertising and publishing in the air, it struck a nerve in my head where this thorn had been residing for so many years.

So, I am assuming you have all opened a magazine in your lifetime. If you haven't, then you should stop reading right now and go jump out your window because you have nothing to live for. Well the ad wizards at the publishing houses do their best to design a cover each month with flashy graphics and big words to catch your eye so you will drop the $3.95 on their magazine and not the other one right next to it that is basically the same but with a different title.

For example, you see on the cover of People a picture of Jessica Simpson and the words "Simpson Caught Topless, Exclusive Photos". Well any guy will instantly pick that one over the Mens Health with yet another way to get that 6 pack. Weights, Cardio, and Diet in case you are wondering. There, I just saved you $3.95. And any woman will pick it up because for some reason women are more interested in the lives of celebrities than their own but that certianly is the subject of another post.

So you quickly thumb through 15 pages of ads for makeup and find the table of contents. Your eyes quickly scan for the word Jessica, Simpson, or Topless. Bang. Page 60. This is where I have a huge problem. Why does the publisher decide that he is only going to randomly put page numbers in? You thumb through and notice the numbers go from 21, skip about 13 pages, 34, and that's it. I think this is the most frustrating thing in the world. At least Playboy makes the centerfold a little thicker so you can get right to that without having to even look at the table of contents or page numbers. They also put the other two pictorials right after those awesome cartoons; one before and one after the centerfold...just in case you were wondering. But I'm sure my male readers already knew that.

So what can you take away from this? I am actually directing this towards a few of you specifically who work in publishing or aspire to. It's really quite simple: be more like Hugh Hefner.

I Miss The Seasons

I would to begin by taking some time to thank my loyal readers. I have always jokingly used the phrase "all my readers" in my posts. Just in case you are too stupid to pick up on the sarcasm I will explain it for you. I was always under the impression that the only people who read my blog were my ex-girlfriend, my brother, and my brother's friend. In the last week or so many of you have come forward to tell me that you not only read the blog but really enjoy it. Some have even said it makes their boring day at work tolerable. It's hard to know how many of you out there read it when most (all) of you don't leave comments and as far as I know there are no Neilson ratings for blogs. I think mine would be near the top. So thank you and keep reading...I will do my best to continue giving give you a reason to get up in the morning. Now on to the post.

Hope everyone had a pleasant weekend. Mine was filled with drunken X-pong and trampolining. It was most triumphant. In case you don't know, X-pong is the beer pong (Beirut if you are from New England) for the 21st century and was invented by yours truly and some other Pointe members during my senior year at Penn State. Please let me know if you would like to know how to play.

Anyway, I was talking to my ex-girlfriend about how we both still miss Hawaii as she saw Jake Shimabukuro at the Jimmy Buffett concert last week in Boston. He is only the greatest ukelele playing Japanese kid ever. Anyway, it got me thinking about my time in Hawaii and how I used to complain that I missed the seasons while I was there. Of course, once I moved back to the Northeast and it got cold out I realized how stupid that was and promptly slapped myself for ever leaving.

Note: I will try to include more interesting and perplexing questions in my posts. I noticed that recently a theme has been developing: Jordon getting hit on by men.

So my question is this: you have wintertime, you have springtime, and you have summertime; but where is falltime or autumntime? Did Webster forget to include this entry? Has anyone ever researched this? Of course, as I said previously, all of this confusion would be irrelevant if I still lived in Hawaii where there are no seasons. It's either raining or it's not. And you can stand in line at the deli counter at the supermarket in just a bathing suit but that's another post. Hope you have a great week!

America The Stupid

I just flew in from Staten Island and boy are my arms tired. I always thought that joke was really funny and I was looking for a post to slip it in to so there you go. My summer of trudging along the coast of New York City came to end yesterday in the lovely borough of Staten Island. In case you were wondering, Staten Island is very nice. The whole southern shore is beach with a boardwalk, big houses, and your token old man doing tai-chi in a speedo. I know what you're thinking but you are wrong...this post had nothing to do with me getting hit on by the speedo-clad Mr. Miyagi.

I was finally able to get to the gym at a normal hour yesterday and enjoy all of the eye candy. The pre-5 o'clock crowd is usually the senior circuit getting in a workout before heading to Friendly's for the early bird special. After pumping iron for a while it was time to do my 45 minutes of cardio. Usually I use a machine in the back row so I can look at all the girl's butts but Family Feud was on so I decided to watch that instead.

It was one of the old ones with Richard Dawson, fresh off his stint on Match Game '78. So the question was "When playing charades, name a way to imitate a dog." Easy right? Shake your butt as if you have a tail; roll over; go up on your hind legs and stick your tongue out. For some reason the number one answer remained hidden as family number one couldn't get the answer. Time for family two to steal. They go down the line. The family captain says, "Richard, I'm gonna go out by myself here and say..."

I'll tell what she said in a minute but first a little tangent. How does the family decide who is going to be the captain? It's a lot of responsibility. Do they vote? You know one of the other four is really pissed that they didn't get picked because they wanted more face time on national television. I always thought it was funny that the wild, family outcast was always put at the end of the table. It was usually the teenage son or crazy uncle. But I digress...

"Richard, I'm gonna go out by myself here and say...bark." Do I see "bark"? Ding. Congratualtions Johnson family, time for big money. Stop the presses folks. Last time I played charades you certainly couldn't talk, let alone make barking noises. What kind of crazy charades was the studio audience playing? Way to go America, out of 100 people, you are all stupid.

My Father's Gay...

Keeping in the same vain as my previous post entitled "Not That There's Anything Wrong With That," I will add to my weekly life update with yet another Jordon-getting-hit-on-by-a-gay-guy post. Let me give you a little background first:

Friday afternoon I make a journey to the Stamford mall, which by the way is the worst designed mall I have ever been to in my life. Go there and you will see. Anyway, I needed some new shirts to wear to the bars so I ventured into Guess. You have to be careful shopping there though because some of that stuff is way too homosexual and guido-y (i just invented that word). I have a few shirts from Guess. My ex always said I looked good in them and she was a girl. I figure a t-shirt with a cool design on it is simple, cool, and not gay. I guess I was wrong.

Friday night. I am supposed to meet this girl that goes to my gym. Score one for team Jordon. As I am going into the bar the bouncer asks me if I had already been inside tonight. I am a little confused because I just got there. He tells me that someone has a really similar shirt on. Uh oh. What is more embarassing than wearing the same shirt as someone at a bar? Well I will tell you.

Right when I get in start looking for "same-shirt-guy" and completely forget that I am supposed to be meeting a girl there. I spot the guy almost immediately and wouldn't you know it was the exact same shirt - color and all. Anyway, I find the girl I was supposed to meet and she begins introducing me to her friends. Wouldn't you know that "same-shirt-guy" is one of her friends? We both start laughing and then she tells me, "Oh don't worry, he's gay." Don't worry? Not the right thing to say at that moment.

The night continues, everyone is having a good time, and then "same-shirt-guy's" boyfriend comes up to me and says, "What size is that?" "Uh, it's a large," I respond, looking a little puzzled at his inquiry. "Because you fill it out much better than my boyfriend," he answers.

So once again I am left questioning whether to take that as a compliment or a clue that maybe I should switch teams. Not really mom, don't worry. It's just to keep in the Seinfeld vain. I took it as a compliment. Not only does that mean I have good fashion sense but all of my hours at the gym are paying off. Girls may not notice but at least someone does.

And in the words of Kenny Bania:

"I start out with curls. That's good for the bicep."

"That's fantastic."

"You work out with weights?"

"No I don't."

"You should."

"Why?"

I don't know...I just don't know. Maybe I will find the answer in a future post. Have a happy August!!!

Is This Movie Ever Going To End?

I must appologize for the long layoff between posts. I have not forgotten about you. I have been busy moving apartments...now the fifth place I have lived since moving to Connecticut. I am also still busy working outside everyday. It's tough being in the sunshine on the boat or walking the shores of New York City. I know, it's a tough job but someone has to do it. It is this very job that got me thinking about this post. If you don't find it funny, well too bad, I do.

Last week was a boat day. Anyway, I had to inflate the boat using a foot pump and then carry it down the 20 foot slope before we could launch it. It was also 100 degrees outside but I don't have enough cheese to go with my wine so I will stop right there. I say "we" because I was with one of my female co-workers who couldn't carry much. Good thing I have been working out. So we are motoring up the Bronx River, which goes right through the middle of the Bronx Zoo, and we come to what appears to be a dam. Unfortunately, we didn't time the tides right so there was a 6 inch ledge standing in our way. Being the super-adventurous type, I decide that we can get out and pull the inflatable boat over the ledge and continue on our way. What happens next? You guessed it, I slip on the wet dam and fall into the river. It stunk, but sure did feel good.

As I am collecting myself and my newly ruined cell phone (it was my work phone so I didn't care) I notice my foot is stuck in the quicksand at the bottom of the river. It wasn't very pleasant. So what does this have to do with anything? Well it got me thinking about that classic scene from everyone's favorite 80s movie. No, not Willow. Nope, not Labrynth with David Bowie. Guess again. That's right...The Neverending Story.

Side note: The Neverending Story is called Die Unendliche Geschichte on imdb.com. This only confirms my theory, Germans love The Neverending Story.

So remember that scene where Atrex gives into The Swamps of Sadness and sinks into the quicksand as Atreyu watches and starts crying? Well I wasn't crying but it made me think about that movie and that scene with the quicksand as I was trying to dry out so the rest of my day wouldn't be miserable.

So my question is this: Don't you think it would have been funny, that when that movie was in the theaters, they just played it on repeat so it really was The Neverending Story? How many times would you have watched it before you got up and left? Would people even get the joke? This is an experiment that should have been done. Maybe on an episode of The Twilight Zone but the theater doors were locked so nobody could escape and really had to watch the same movie for the rest of eternity. So many possibilities.

P.S. Luckily the theaters didn't do this with The Matrix because I would have killed myself first.

Super-Size This!

For those of you who consistenly read my posts and try to piece together the weekly events of my awesome life you know that I am currently undergoing a physical transformation from skinny guy with really fast metabolism to adonis with even faster metabolism. For those of you who don't, well just take my word for it. I am currently a 5 out 6 on my self-created 6-pack scale. You figure it out.

Anyway, even the best combination of diet and exercise requires a few lapses to prevent my head from exploding. This past week I stopped at Wendy's for a delicious double cheeseburger. It was no bag of Double Stuff Oreos but it hit the spot. Normally I get out and walk inside so I can burn a few extra calories (I'm kidding) but this time I decided to use the drive-thru.

On a side note: When is it acceptable to use through and when is it acceptable to use thru. It seems that the fast food industry is the only ones using thru. If anyone has more information on this, then please let me know.

Back to the post. I order a value meal number 2 with a coke. The scrambled intercom says, "Would you like that medium?" I'm thinking they normally would ask me to "super-size" or "biggie-size" so I say, "yeah, that's fine." I pull around only to see the mexican woman giving me this huge drink and charging me an extra 50 cents. Apparently, Wendy's has decided that medium is the new biggie. What a load of crap that is. That has to be the sneakiest business move of all time. It used to be that there was no small; only medium, large, and biggie. Now they went back to small, medium, and large but didn't tell anyone.

And that's why I won't eat fast food again...at least until my head is about to explode.

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To New Jersey

Happy Birthday America! What a crazy 4th of July weekend it was. Mostly sitting on the raft in the pool. People ask me what I did, I say, "I did nothing...it was fantastic." Actually I bought some fireworks using a "hole" in the new PA laws. No longer do I have to make the annual Cheifet pilgrimage to South Carolina. And for all of you idiots out there who say you can buy fireworks in other, closer states, well...you are idiots. Look it up, you can't.

Anyway, in my never-ending quest to be frugal (and get from CT to PA as quickly as possible), I decided to not get gas in CT ($3.29/gallon) where it is very overpriced and see if I could make it to the Mecca of cheap gas in the Northeast...drumroll please...New Jersey. Granted it was a good 60 miles away from work and my trip calculator said I had 60 miles to empty but I decided to go for it. Like Cosmo Kramer in that episode of Seinfeld where he drives the SAAB further left of the E than anyone in history. It was quite a thrill.

Well, long story short... I guess it's not really a long story, I just sat in my car driving as fast as possible to New Jersey. I make it to the border but of course there isn't a gas station right across the border so I have to keep driving. I get off at the first exit but of course there is no sign indicating which way to turn so I guess right. Pull up to a traffic light and ask the guy next to me where the closest gas station is. Luckily it was right around the corner. I pull in, proud of myself because I was about to pay $2.89/gallon and save $5. "Fill it up regular!" I say as the smile on my face grows. "We're all out, we just have premium." My smile turns to a frown as my savings just got cut in half.

Talk about Murphy's Law. The adrenaline rush was worth $5 but not $2.50. Oh well, lesson learned. And that lesson is...drumroll please...stop being so fucking cheap.

Happy July 4th!!!

Rubber Chickens + Slime = Lawsuit?

First of all, I would like to appologize for the large gaps between my recent posts. Apparently, I am finally busy at work everyday. Even worse, I am out of the office four days a week walking around New York City gathering GPS data. It's not that bad I guess. I get a nice farmers tan since I can't walk around without my shirt on. It was actually pretty exciting last week because we almost got arrested for taking pictures of the Whitestone Bridge. It was awesome. Good thing I wasn't carrying my company issued machete. Anyway, since it is Sunday and I should be doing plenty of things other than write blog posts I will make this one short and sweet.

I was lying on the couch this afternoon (because it's raining outside for a change, damn northeast weather) flipping through the channels on the old idiot box and came across an old favorite: Double Dare. That Mark Summers really used that show as a launching pad for his career. In case you didn't know he now has a show on Food Network where he reviews all of the unhealthy food that makes America great...and obese.

Anyway, after watching the two families duke it out in the question part of the show (my favorite part by the way) the idiots couldn't answer the easy question and had to resort to the physical challenge. Interesting how the physical challenges actually were really hard most of the time. As the dad tried to catapault rubber chickens into the bucket strapped to the daughter's head while the tank of slime dripped out all over the floor I noticed something that I hadn't thought about in probably ten years (the last time I watched Double Dare). How come the floor was so damn slippery? Did you ever notice that even before the physical challenge started people were sliding all over the place. Did Nickelodeon want a lawsuit? Was this an evil ploy by Mark Summers to slip, fall, hurt his back, and get out of his contract before his career totally went down the drain? I guess we will never know...

867-5309/Jenny

Another crazy weekend for your loyal blog writer: me. As usual, I am always on the lookout for blog-worthy (I invented that word) content for my posts. If you couldn't tell by some of my previous posts that the social scene in Connecticut is...how do I put this...subpar, then you are an idiot and I would like you to stop reading. Who am I kidding? I need all of the readers I can get. Why? I don't know. Anyway...

My buddy Tom and I have decided to head down to NYC every weekend. Not only is the social scene...how do I put this...the best in the world but the girls are much hotter. We stumbled across a great rooftop bar in the shadow of the Empire State Building. It was awesome. The girls weren't pretentious. The music wasn't loud. The guys weren't guidos. The drinks were still $12 a piece but you can't have everything, right?

After a night of telling jokes to girls we headed downstairs to get a cab back to our car. By the way, I thought girls are supposed to love a guy with a sense of humor. Apparently these girls didn't understand my brand of humor, which I have been told is quite amusing. But it's like the old adage says: There are plenty of fish in the sea. If I keep throwing the bait out there, then one of those fish will bite. Of course, by fish I mean hot, smart girl but I'm sure you already knew that.

So you are probably wondering what the Tommy Tutone song has to do with this post. Well, as we were getting in the cab I noticed that the cab company's phone number was 777-7777. How cool is that? Why are cab company's the only ones to get phone numbers where all of the digits are the same? This doesn't seem fair to me. If I call the phone company and tell them that I am a new cab company, then can I get a cool phone number too? Wouldn't 111-1111 be awesome? This needs to be explored more.

P.S. My friend Ryan has the phone number (808) 256-9562. Also known as (808) blowjob. Awesome.

Not That There's Anything Wrong With That

What a weekend. My mother always told me that "they" would be knocking down my door. This always meant women would want to go out with me because I am really, really, ridiculously good looking like Derek Zoolander, minus the black lung. Well apparently "they" meant women and men.

My buddy Tom and I spent a lovely afternoon at the Barclays Golf Tournament at the beautiful Westchester Country Club. While we weren't listening to pathetic middle-aged men in the gallery (wearing golf shoes to watch a golf tournament) oogling at Vigay Singh, I was busy picking up the hot Australian XM Satellite Radio girl who was trying to sell me some crappy radio. I mean come on. If I am going to buy a satellite radio, then it certainly isn't going to be an XM. It's going to be a Sirius since not only does it carry Howard Stern but I own Sirius stock.

So what does this have to do with today's post you may ask? Well the night before I was in New York City. I've learned that you have to look good when you go out in New York City but I've also learned that there are two types of women out there. Those that like Sex and The City and those that don't. I prefer the later. Those that like that show are busy gossiping about expensive shoes and sunglasses all while drinking cosmopolitans at the latest chic bar or club. These are the same girls who usually have nothing interesting to say because they are too busy thinking about themselves and think they are better than everyone (See past blog post).

The later group are much more interesting. They have probably read books other than "The Devil Wears Prada" and "The Da Vinci Code". They have probably seen different parts of the world, met different people, and experienced different cultures. They have probably developed their own sense of fashion and strive to be different. Basically they don't need some cheesy supermarket magazine to tell them what clothes to wear. So why am I writing about this? Because in my attempt to meet more interesting, erudite, unpretentious people I have gone back to my roots (see past blog post): the laid-back, alternative, who gives a fuck look.

So anyway, to make a long story short, I was wearing jeans from Gap, my new navy blue Chuck Taylor's (see past blog post), and a sweater from Guess. It was 70% off. As I walking to get in a cab for our long trip back to Connecticut, a guy approaches me and asks me where I got my sweater. "Guess," I reply. He proceeds to grab my shoulder and inform me that it has the most perfect raglan sleeves and that it fits me perfectly. I have no idea what raglan sleeves are but it must be good if a gay guy is telling me. I say thank you and he gets in a cab with his friend/partner. As they are leaving his friend/partner says, "You look perfect, a guaranteed booty call."

Now hear is my dilemma. Should I be totally repulsed that a flaming homosexual grabbed my shoulder and told me how good I look? Or should I be totally flattered that a flaming homosexual grabbed my shoulder and told me how well I dress? I go with the later. I mean he was gay...not that there's there anything wrong with that.

Is Three Better Than Two?

Quick observation. Heard on the news recently that a baby was born with three arms. Boy that kids' parents will have their hands full. Anyway, got me thinking about all the weird birth stories we hear everyday on the news; most notably multiple births. Twins, Triplets, Quadruplets, etc. The list goes on and on. My question is as follows: if a mother gives birth to a set of triplets, then are two of those triplets considered twins? Could that mother also say she gave birth to three sets of twins? Could one of the kids say they have two twin brothers or two twin sisters, or a twin brother and sister? This is a deep fundamental question that only someone like W could answer.

Speaking of W. If two hermaphrodites want to get married, then is that considered same-sex marriage or traditional marriage? It sure isn't traditional to me but I couldn't care less, I have more important things to worry about. Actually, I really don't so I will think about it and get back to you.

Have a Happy Tuesday!

You Try To Do Something Nice...

Quick story. I was in New York yesterday for work. Of course, I was swimming in raw sewage but that's another story. Anyway, it was pretty hot. Making bucks, getting exercise, working outside. Fuckin' A. To combat the heat I started drinking my Aquafina. Personally, I prefer tap water to bottled water but people think that is weird so I won't go into it any further. Anyway, I finish the bottle and proceed to toss it in the nearest trash can. Upon my arrival I notice a homeless woman digging through the trash looking for emtpy bottles and cans to recycle. Being the nice person that I am, I decide to hand the bottle to the woman instead of throwing in the trash can right in front of her face. I politely offer her the bottle and what is her response? She takes it and without even looking at me just tosses it right in the trash can. Think about it, she pulled a total 180 on me. Instead of me throwing it away right in front of her face, she throws it away right in front of my face. Unbelievable. That's the last (and first) time I do anything nice for a homeless person.

Back To The Future

Hope everyone had a pleasant Memorial Day weekend. Mine was okay. Just the usual lifting weights, getting huge, eating healthy, shaving my head. You know, the usual. I did go to one bar on Sunday which was very eye opening to say the least. I had always heard that people from Connecticut were a bit snotty and full of themselves. Well I got so much of it shoved down my throat this weekend I nearly threw up a little in my mouth.

Picture it. Sunday afternoon. Outdoor bar on the water. I'm thinking laid back. I don't know what they put in the water around here but people show up in the most ridiculous outfits I have ever seen in my life. Men in pleated slacks, armani shirts, wing tip shoes buffed so I could see my reflection from across the bar. Not to mention more Polo and Lacoste shirts with the collars popped than I have ever seen. And the women were even worse! Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses and cocktail dresses you would expect to see at a Saturday evening black tie wedding, not on a Sunday afternoon at an outdoor bar on the water. Everyone was trying to one-up the next person. Needless to say I was very out of place in my $3 Locals flip flops, camoflauge cargo shorts from the Gap, and free Eddie Aikau surfing t-shirt. Not that I care but still. Apparently the Hawaii lifestyle has not made its way to the Northeast just yet.

Anyway, this brings us to today's post. Let's take a trip back to elementary school. Pre-school for all of my younger readers. And for my female readers please let me know what would be the analog for you. After picking up a pair of Chuck Taylor's this weekend and realizing how they never go out of style, I was thinking about embarassing shoes from yesteryear. What would you say was the most embarassing shoe brand to own back then? The ones I came up with were Pony, Macgregor, LA Gear, and Avia. Send me your thoughts so we can once and for all crown the most embarassing shoe brand of all time. This way, when someone asks me why I'm not excited to get dressed up on a Sunday afternoon, I can respond they same way one of the greatest thinkers of our time did:

"It's not a question of motivation. It's that I just don't care."

--P.Gibbons

Have a great summer!

The City That Never Speeds?

Well for all of my fellow northeasterners, you can finally smile as I think summer has finally arrived. Kind of funny don't you think? I mean, everyone was so happy that winter was so mild; too bad it lasted until the end of May! Good old global warming, it's fantastic!

Anyway, being that it is finally nice outside, my buddy Tom and I took a trip down to the big city (New York) this past weekend. Hey. I'm in New York. I've got a gun. Let's go to a Broadway show. (anyone get that one?) After checking out some outdoor market/reggae block party down in Soho, seeing Drew Barrymore, and having some delicious Asian-fusion food, we hopped in a cab back to Grand Central for the ride home. As we were cruising around in the cab I noticed something interesting, as usual. Everyone in New York City is either a terrible driver or a very good driver. But the most interesting thing is that there are no speed limit signs anywhere to be seen. Isn't this weird? It's like we're looking down on Wayne's basement, only that's not Wayne's basement. (anyone get that one?)

Is the lack of speed limit signs becuase no one would follow them anyway or did they forget? Hey, I thought it was interesting.

They're All Out, They Just Have Diesel

Hope everyone had a lovely Mother's Day. If any of my readers are in fact mothers, then I would love to hear from you because I didn't think I had any readers, let alone readers with kids.

Anyone who drives a car these days, has turned the television on recently, or even slightly paid any attention to current events knows that gas prices are at an all-time high. I remember when I took a vacation to Lanai last February and laughed that gas was $3.15/gallon. Oops, I think I paid $3.11/gallon yesterday. The times they are a changing.

Anyway, as I was driving down the street looking at the marquee in front of each gas station, trying to find which one was the cheapest so I could save about $1.00, I noticed something interesting...which, of course, got me thinking. Remember when gas prices first went over $2.00/gallon right after Hurricane Katrina and none of the gas stations had enough "2s" to put up on the marquee? And recently they had to put "3s" up there too? Well this brings me to the topic of this post. Who are the manufacturers of these little plastic numbers?

Think about it for a second. For as long as I can remember gas was more than $1.00/gallon but less than $2.00/gallon. Thus, requiring gas stations to only need "1s". I did a little research and found that gas prices have not been below $1.00/gallon since the early 1980s. So how in the world have these little plastic number manufacturers stayed in business since then? Have they been sitting in their offices just hoping, praying, and waiting for the problems in the Middle East and Hurricane season to finally cause the prices to go up? Think about it, they probably haven't had any orders in years.

P.S. I don't want any emails dubunking my theory. I'm sure the little plastic number manufactures make other little plastic numbers too.

Isn't It Ironic, Don't Ya Think?

Sorry for the long lay off but I was once again playing underwater for work; this time in Cape May, NJ. That's right, I spent last week inspecting a US Coast Guard pier. All the while getting free food, a good tan, and I even grew a beard again because we were getting up at 5:30 every morning. I look like that little picture at the top of my blog again. But enough about me...on to today's post.

For all of you Alanis fans, so sorry to disappoint you but this has nothing to do with her. Also, I didn't think she still had any fans. I mean she had that one album, Jagged Little Pill, come out 10 years ago and then she vanished back to Canada. Come on, you remember, every 3 weeks another single was on the radio. It was awful. But enough about Alanis...on to today's post.

The irony I speak of lies in a scene I witnessed on my drive down the Garden State Parkway on my way to Cape May, NJ. I see some flashing lights from a police cruiser but don't slam on the breaks like so many people do because I have the cruise control locked in at 65. As I drive past I see the unlucky car that was pulled over and notice something odd...and ironic. The car had a "student driver" sign on the roof and there was only one person in the car. Of course, this means that a driving instructor was pulled over for either speeding or wreckless driving. That sure doesn't look good for that driving school. But hey, I bet they don't make you drive them to pick up dry cleaning like my driving instructor did...

Macaroni and Sleaze

Well this is my first post after my big 26th birthday last week. Not to worry, the quality will not decrease because of my advanced age and the resulting depression. As a quick side note, my mom apprised me that I turned 26 on the 26th. How cool is that? Think about it, there is only one day in your life when this can occur. Amazing. Very blog-worthy. Keep that in mind when your day comes. If your day has already passed, then I am terribly sorry. Not really, but you know what I mean. Anyway, on to today's post...

My job as an ocean engineer has allowed me to travel all up and down the eastern seaboard. Last week was no different as I took a trip to Boston, MA for a seminar dealing with a structural engineering computer program. It was very boring but I got a free trip out of it so who's complaining? I had dinner with the lovely Ms. Lauren Tharaud followed by riding the T out to Boston College to roam the dorms with my brother's super awesome friend and girlfriend as the creepy old guy.

While perusing the dinner menu I came across macaroni and cheese. I think it was filled with bits of bacon, peppers, and other goodies in an attempt to make this dish sound appetizing. That's when I realized that I have never met a macaroni and cheese dish at a restaurant that is better than Kraft macaroni and cheese out of the box. Has anyone else ever noticed the same thing? These restaurants try and make it all gourment but don't realize that it's the simple Kraft product that is by far superior. If you have ever had a macaroni and cheese at a restaurant better please let me know so I can go test my hypothesis.

P.S. Stouffers macaroni and cheese is very good also.

A Druish Princess

That's all we needed...a Druish Princess. Hope everyone had a nice Passover/Easter weekend filled with yummy gifilte fish/easter egg meals. With all of this religion going around my family and I started talking about plastic surgery and how vain our society is. Well, as usual, this got me thinking. Any of you who grew up around Jewish people know that they usually have wavy, curly hair. And any of you grew up around young Jewish girls know that they are the only ones who actually would spend tons of their Daddy's money to do something about it.

The solution? None other than Japanese hair straightening. I don't know exactly what it is but I think they use some chemical to straighten the hair for a few months so it looks like Aryan hair but you can still tell and make fun of them behind their backs. Anyway, this brings me to the subject of this post. Everyone knows that Japanese people have the straightest hair on Earth. So why would the Japanese have any need for a hair straightening procedure? To find the answer, one must dig a little deeper...

I think the answer lies with a little clever marketing and racism. If we were to call the procedure by its original name: Jap hair straightening, then the answer begins to reveal itself. Jap, better known as Jewish American Princess, is the real name behind the curtain but the inventors thought this wouldn't sell as well so they just extended it to Japanese so as not offend anyone. Think about it, who are the only people who get Japanese hair straightening? Not the Japanese but the Japs. And speaking of Druish Princesses, everyone doesn't love a Druish Girl. Shalom.

What's Under That Toga?

You can sleep soundly tonight knowing that I survived my first real dive in the East River yesterday despite getting my ass kicked by the current. As a result of my survival, the deep thoughts will continue to flow...no pun intended. Anyway, on to today's post.

When I came up after an hour and a half of looking at wooden telephone poles holding up a pier I could see across New York Harbor over to Liberty Island and of course the Statue of Liberty. As usual, this got me thinking. We all know that a bachelor is a man and bachelorette is a woman. Does this same metric work for statue and statuette? Should Lady Liberty really be called the Statuette of Liberty? Was Dr. Peter Venkman in Ghostbusters II right when he said, "Kind of makes you wonder, does she have anything on under that toga?" Or should he have said, "What is under that toga?"

Note: Yes, I know that a statuette is simply a small statue but then this post wouldn't have been as funny. Please keep that in mind before you send me a nasty email.

Pull Over!

Ok, I will preface this entry by saying that this isn't my idea but is definately worthy of a post on my blog. I mean, I could have tried to pass this off as my idea and no one would have known but I am a man of morals. And for any of you who know me, know that that last sentence is bullshit. Anyway, on to the post.

Everyone has tried to come up with tricks to "add" a passenger so they can drive in the carpool lane on the freeway: a mannequin, a kick boxing dummy, a balloon with a face drawn on it. I've even heard of some people trying to claim their dog counts as a passenger. Well these are nothing compared to what I just read. Some pregnant woman was given a ticket for driving alone in the carpool lane but claimed her unborn baby counted as a passenger. She lost in court but that really opens Pandora's box on when does a fetus become a passenger! Another good one is whether or not a hearse on its way to bury someone can drive in the carpool lane with the corpse in the back.

And for any of you who have seen the Saturday Night Live skit with Christopher Walken and the census could argue that a pet cougar counts as a person.

Personally, I think anyone clever enough to come up with such novel methods of beating the system deserves the benefit of the doubt. Your thoughts?

What's The Worst Part About Eating Vegetables?

I was at the supermarket the other day. Speaking of which, at what size does a market become a supermarket? Anyway, I was in the produce section buying some fruits and vegetables. Now we all know that you are supposed to squeeze, smell, rub, or whatever it is you do, each piece before you buy it. Long story short, it wasn't a good day to be a vegetable at the Super Stop n' Shop, particularly the peppers. Each one i picked up was worse than the next.

After a few minutes of going through every last green, yellow, red, and orange pepper I decided on two that were worthy of entering my mouth. As I continued my shopping journey past the canned meat, lasagna noodles, and some wierd asian thing in a can I would never eat I started thinking about my two peppers. They made me think: If every pepper except these two were subpar, then does someone else think they are ok? I can't imagine that anyone would take the yellow pepper with the big brown mark on the side.

So what I am really wondering is whether or not the bad peppers ever get to go home with someone or do they just get tossed in the trash? Do they go to the homeless shelter with the muffin stumps, stale bagels, and stale donuts? And to think, I used to work at a supermarket... Actually I just spent that summer in the huge walk-in freezer keeping cool and eating ice cream.

Answer: The Wheelchairs.

Talk About Embarassing

If any of my loyal readers watch Curb Your Enthusiasm then this story will be even funnier. After a long night in New York City on St. Patrick's Day that consisted of seeing an old friend from Hawaii, seeing a weird electronica band called Stereolab, drinking lots of Guinness, waking up next to some strange girl, and chewing my arm off to get out of there before she woke up, my buddy Tom picked me up in the city and we headed down the New Jersey Turnpike to attend my buddy Jason's housewarming/engagement party. On a side note, I did get to walk through New York's plant and flower district (which I never knew existed) and walk past the original Scores (which, of course, I knew existed). But I digress.

So we are cruising down the New Jersey Turnpike and stop at the Molly Pitcher Rest Area to get some gas and go to the bathroom. I am standing in line in the men's room waiting for the next uninal or stall to open up. It must have been a good day because the handicapped stall opens up and I slide right in. I really enjoy using the handicapped stall, be it number 1 or 2, because there is so much more room and the door opens out. Don't you hate when it opens in and you have to be careful not to rub the back of your pants on the front of the toilet? So I am doing my business and I hear someone trying to open the door. The door is clearly locked so some guy must be a real dick. I finish up and walk out but no one is there. Then I look down and see some guy sitting in his wheelchair waiting to go. Man did I feel like an asshole. I thought shit like that only happens to Larry David. I guess I was wrong.

Sand in the Vasoline

Huge development this morning while sitting at my desk. I actually finished a tube of chapstick. I don't know about you, but this is the first time in my life this has ever happened. I usually lose it or throw it away. If you have ever really used an entire tube of chapstick, then I commend you on your strong resolve to stick with that same tube for so long. In my case, it must have been 10 years.

Tonight on CBS

So I was watching the NCAA tournament last night and hoping the Gonzaga Bulldogs, moustache and all, could pull out the win since I have them in the Final Four. Anyway, a commercial came on for some bad CBS show that only people over 50 watch but is somehow near the top of the Neilson Ratings. The commercial said the upcoming episode was "All-New" and this got me thinking. Has there ever been an episode of a show that was only partially new? Would they maybe splice some of an old episode with a new one? Tonight on CBS, half of last week's "Everybody Loves Raymond" and half of an all-new "Everybody Loves Raymond." I think the networks could save themselves some time and just say "new", we'll get the idea.

Whipped

Just a quick observation I made the other day while driving... Is there anything more pathetic than seeing a car with the license plate with the couple's initials on it? If my wife ever asks me to do that I will divorce her right on the spot. I also saw a guy with a bumper sticker that said "I heart my wife". That also will not fly in my house.

...But I Do Have Good News

Can Al Queda claim the car blown up by a suicide bomber with their car insurance company? Or does Arab-Geico consider it an act of God since they claim Allah told them to do it?

Putting Her In Hover

Ok, so we all know how the Earth spins. Say you wanted to travel from New York to Los Angeles. Would it be more economical to just hover an inch off the ground and wait for the Earth to rotate below you until Los Angeles gets there? I mean, think of how safe it would be. I guess it would take a really long time to go the other direction though. I guess it's not such a good idea.

Dane Cook Was Right

So I finally broke down and went grocery shopping last night for the first time in about 4 weeks. For some reason I was trying to eat everything I had before restocking the shelves...don't ask me why. Anyway, if you listen to the very funny comedian Dane Cook, then you have heard his bit about never leaving your shopping cart unattended at the supermarket. What if someone comes in looking for all of the same items you already put in your cart and just walks off with it? Well this never happens, right? Wrong!!!

I was standing at the deli counter when this cute older woman walks up. She kind of looked like the flat chested lifeguard on Baywatch. You know who I am talking about. Anyway, we smile at each other and then all of a sudden she says, "Shit! I took someone else's cart." She proceeds to storm off in search of her original cart and returns a few minutes later. There was even a little kid's stuffed animal in there.

As I continued shopping I saw the original cart, stuffed animal and all, abandoned at the end of the canned meat/fish aisle. Not only is there some kid crying because he/she lost his stuffed animal, but the owner of that cart decided to just get a new cart and start over.

Lesson to be learned: Never leave your cart alone, there are bad people out there...even at your neighborhood grocery store.