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!