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!!!