Back in the Saddle

Those of you feeling that I have been negligent in my blog posting of late should know that Friday I was without computer access as I actually worked. That's right, for one day I was gainfully employed. I stood in at the rehearsal of a forthcoming show on the style network called Craft Corner Deathmatch. I played the host. Basically the show pits two crafting enthusiasts against one another in a steel cage competition where the sarcastic host makes fun of them as they compete to the "death" for a $750 scrapbook related prize. The sweet smell of Emmy-hype was unmistakable in the studio. Or maybe it was the fog machine. Emmy-hype and manufactured fog have very similar scents. It's an odd marriage, crafting enthusiasts and steel cage match style combat, but I'm sure there were a lot of whole roasted peanuts and milk chocolate skeptics discouraging the creator of Goobers, and look how that turned out. I had hoped my performance as stand-in host might attract the attention of the executive producers potentially causing a host controversy to erupt, but as it turned out I was only there for the camera and lighting crews to get things figured out from a technical standpoint. If nothing else though, it was nostalgic for me to see the near side of 8 a.m.

As long as I'm typing about waking up in the morning, I think the snooze function on alarm clocks should be more difficult to enable. When you first wake-up, especially when you're very tired, your decision making tends to be skewed in a very more sleep-centric way. When the press of a button is all it takes to delay your miserable climb out of the warm comforts of bed, it's too easy. In order to ensure that you can afford to take those extra nine minutes of z's, I think the wherewithal of resetting your alarm should be required. The snooze is like a mindless reality pause. Just press it and pretend a little while longer that you don't really need to get up. If you didn't need to get up you wouldn't have set your alarm clock for that time. Be gone, you irresistible snooze button, you're crippling society's productivity. (I've taken to referring to myself as "society".)

I wonder if bookkeepers scoff at zookeepers seeing as how zookeepers only have two sets of double-letters in their job title-not to mention the whole elephant dung shoveling factor.

Friday night, the first of my group of close friends from college got engaged. That’s like, a major grown up move. Today is the 25th birthday of another of said group of college friends. Here’s to you guys BTer and Matty. I hope you know who’s who.

As important of a creative outlet as this writing is for me, one could argue that it isn't exactly my fast-track to finding work, so I'm going to go on an exhaustive job search this afternoon and maybe I'll write more later about how fruitful it was. Or if during my job search I think of anything worthwhile, perhaps I'll add that. Wish me luck.

Today's Title

All too often I find that zip codes lack zippiness. 11211: Zippity-frickin’ do-da.

I don’t particularly like crumb cake but I’ll eat crumbs of it just because it’s amusing to think that I’m eating crumb cake crumbs. Also, I actually do like crumb cake. Please forgive my momentary dishonesty.

Insurgents in Iraq seem to have replaced the crucial “or” from P.Diddy’s Vote or Die campaign with an “and.” You could argue that their motives aren’t based upon a misinterpretation of P.Diddy’s campaign, but wouldn’t it help simplify the whole mess in Iraq if we placed all the blame squarely on Diddy? Nothing personal Sean, but it’s time for a scapegoat.

Exree Hipp takes on Tequila Shots tonight. I wonder if their name ‘Tequila Shots’ is supposed to have some type of double meaning with respect to the word “Shots.” If so, I don’t get it. If not, what a waste. Either way, I feel like their name is fertile ground for mid-game taunts. After a player on their team misses a three pointer I’ll tell him that he should only attempt tequila shots, because jump shots don’t seem to be working out for him. (Snapple!) If I played for a team called Tequila Shots, which I never would, I would pretend to lick salt off of my hand before every free-throw attempt.

It’s sub-zero with the wind chill factor here today. Here’s something I wonder about weather reports: They tell you what the temperature is, but then they also tell you what it “feels like.” I think that the actual temperature is pretty useless if it feels like a different temperature. Just tell us what it’s going to feel like outside and call that the temperature. We don’t need all this superfluous information assholes. Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to turn ugly, it’s just that meteorologists have always gotten to me in a way that nobody else can. It’s both a blessing and a curse.

Bundle up out there, but make sure to bundle down afterwards.

Peace

The Good, The Bad, The Confusing

Bad News: Wisconsin blew a late lead and ended up losing to Illinois last night by ten points. Fiddlesticks!

Good News: My friend Richie arrived in town yesterday. I enjoy his company.

Confusing "News": On the subway yesterday I saw a sign for a law firm called Fitzgerald and Fitzgerald, PC. Above the name of the firm, in yellow print the ad boasted: "we fight for kids with brain damage." To the left of where it said that, also in yellow print, was a drawing of a profile of a fightin' Irishman who had boxing gloves on and his dukes up. I'm not quite sure what Fitzgerald and Fitzgerald are trying to say by the juxtaposition of this fightin' leprechaun and their claim "we fight for kids with brain damage." Are they implying that they will go after abusive Irish fathers who wear boxing gloves and beat their kids causing them brain damage? Or is this mascot representative of the way that they fight for kids with brain damage-by sparring with the perpetrators of child brain damage while wearing leprechaun outfits? Either way I think it's safe to say that you shouldn't rely on the subway to find legal representation for your child's brain damage case.

The slush puddles in this city are out of control. Snow's never known a filthier form. My pant-bottoms have never been so stained.

I think it's somewhat surprising that the childhood taunt "na-na-na-na boo-boo" caught on. I bet whoever first said that didn't in his (or her) wildest dreams imagine that he'd be coining an enduring expression. I wonder if it originally came out in the heat of a game of tag or if he settled on it beforehand after considering other similar options such as:

foosti-roosti-don don

docky-docky ba ba

shulee-shulee-nu-nu

cashew-face/otter-tits

I don't know why he separated those last two with a slash as if they're somehow connected. Go figure?

Hope you're Wednesday was memorable for all the right reasons.

My First Big Name Practice Interview

Recently I’ve been interviewed for some stories (as opposed to jobs) for the first couple of times in my life. Hopefully as my comedy career progresses I will be interviewed more. While I enjoyed being interviewed I feel as though I could stand some additional practice. That’s why I’ve decided to subject myself to ESPN personality Dan Patrick’s no nonsense interview of former #1 overall WNBA draft pick and current Seattle Storm point guard Sue Bird from August 20th, 2002. (The questions are unchanged)

DP: Biggest difference between college and pro hoops?
ACK: College players can’t flaunt the money they’re being paid.
DP: Oh, so we're spoiled?
ACK: I’m not sure I follow.
DP: And the fact that you don't win every night.
ACK: That’s not a question, Dan.
DP: Was that difficult, that you lose your first game in the pros, and you'd already lost more than you lost in your senior year of college?
ACK: Who are you talking to?
DP: Can you ever accept losing?
ACK: Losing is a reality. I don’t particularly like it, but when it happens, you might as well accept it.
DP: Can you teach people how to win? I look at you and I see somebody who knows how to win ... is that something you're born with or is it something that can be taught?
ACK: I don’t think I was born with the knowledge of how to win, but I learned at a very young age when my mom placed me in an obstacle course with other infants at the nursery and we all raced for a bottle of her breast milk at the finish line.
DP: You never thought about it?
ACK: No I think about that incident often. It’s actually a big source of familial tension.

DP: Is there a natural performer in you that wants to entertain?
ACK: I mean, I’m a stand-up comedian. What do you think?
DP: Would you consider yourself a showoff?
ACK: I probably throw more behind the back passes than need be.
DP: Characterize your personality on the floor.
ACK: Confused as to why I’m on the floor and usually paranoid about getting dust all over my clothes.
DP: It almost seems like you have more personality off the floor in being able to be yourself, whereas on the floor you seem a little more in control and not as animated.
ACK: I find it tough to be animated when you’re on the floor-unless you’re breakdancing.
DP: Is that on purpose?
ACK: I believe most breakdancing is intentional, yes, if that’s what you’re asking.

DP: How often does the Larry Bird question come up?
ACK: I’m not sure I’m aware of this “Larry Bird question.” Care to explain?
DP: During the course of your college career or even in the WNBA, how often has the Larry Bird question come up?
ACK: Not exactly the clarification I was looking for, but for whatever it’s worth, if I had to compare I’d guess that Larry Legend is the subject of questions more often in the WNBA than he was during my years at the University of Wisconsin.
DP: Well, thank god you don’t look like him.
ACK: What the fuck? Enough about Larry Bird. Next question.
DP: It'd be OK to play like Bird, though. How would you fare in a 3-point shooting contest with Larry?
ACK: You’ve got issues, Dan. I refuse to feed into your Larry Bird obsession.
DP: You could beat him. He's got a bad back. I think you could take him.

DP: Most extravagant purchase you've made. You signed the contract -- did you go out and get anything?
ACK: I know not of this contact you speak of, but my most extravagant purchase of late was probably the Mach 3 Power. That ad campaign got me hook line and sinker.
DP: Nothing extravagant? You didn't go out and buy jewelry, stereo, TV?
ACK: I’m going to get an ipod soon.
DP: But what are you saving for?
ACK: Rent, food, unlimited subway cards, the basics.
DP: So what's this about getting a pet monkey?
ACK: I would never do it.
DP: Why?
ACK: My apartment is predisposed to smelling enough as is.
DP: But what are you going to do with the monkey when you're gone.
ACK: You’re not a very good listener, Dan.
DP: You're going to bring the pet monkey on the road?
ACK: Is this some type of weak masturbatory reference?
DP: Maybe you could get him a uniform, have him sit on the bench.
ACK: Dude, if you like to dress up your “pet monkey” go for it , whatever floats your boat.

DP: Can you imagine a WNBA player posing for Playboy?
ACK: I’d rather not.
DP: Is there the right amount of money for you to do that?
ACK: I don't think that would ever happen.
DP: Well, you didn't say no. You said, "I don't think so." Let's say I'm Hugh Hefner and I offer you a million dollars to pose for Playboy.
ACK: I’d say I think you’re going to be alienating your fan base Hugh, but who am I to turn to seven figures.

DP: If you could have a superhuman power, what would it be?
ACK: I’d probably go for the ability to fly.
DP: What do you want to do with that?
ACK: Uh, you know… fly.

DP: Are you a crybaby when you go to the movies?
ACK: No.
DP: See, sometimes you're embarrassed to tell people that you cried at a movie, and then they say, "You cried at that movie!"
ACK: Sounds like somebody’s had their manhood questioned after a recent trip to the theater.
DP: By the way, who's playing you if someone made the movie, "The Sue Bird Story"?
ACK: I don’t know why I’d be in that movie, but somebody told me once that I look like the kid who played Charlie in Charlie in the Chocolate Factory, though I suppose he’s really old now.
DP: Yeah, but you're cuter than Geena Davis.
ACK: Thanks, I guess... we’re not often compared, but I can see why you said that given the context…oh wait, no, you’re insane. This interview is over.

That was a tough interview. I felt bad walking out, but things got a little too weird for me. By the way, I started my New Year’s resolution of swimming yesterday, a mere 23 days late. Finding the balance where your goggles don’t leak in water but aren’t so tight as to leave permanent impressions on your eye sockets is quite the challenge. Here’s hoping your Tuesday is punctuated by watching the University of Wisconsin prolong their nation’s best home winning streak by knocking off the undefeated, #1 ranked Fighting Illini of Illinois tonight. Talk about mayhem in Madison baby!

Blizzard o' Randomness

I'm what you'd call a self-described "self-describer." I like to describe myself to others but only with the established pretense that the forthcoming self-description is just that. I feel it reduces confusion when describing oneself. That way people don't ask you questions like "is that a self-description or is that more an amalgamation of descriptions others have made of you?" I hate it when people ask me that, particularly because I never know how to spell amalgamation and thus can't look it up in a dictionary to find out what it means.

I did my first snow angel in years Saturday night. It turned out great. While doing it, I realized that the snow angel motion is pretty much the same as the jumping jack motion. If snow angels get to be called snow angels then jumping jacks should be called air angels- or maybe snow angels should just be called lying in the snow jacks. Either way, the gap must be bridged.

My friend BA (everybody should have a friend with the same name as their degree) told me he thinks I should write a joke about the bloods and the crips. He believes the rival gangs to be rich premi (shouldn't that be the plural of premise?) I don't disagree, but in the event that a member of either the bloods or the crips, or heaven forbid both, were to attend a stand-up performance of mine and did not like my joke, they might harm me. Perhaps I could avoid that potential problem by asking the audience if there are any members of the bloods or the crips in the audience prior to delivering my blood/crip joke? That would be kind of funny in and of itself. Now all I have to do is write the joke. Or perhaps that will be the entire thing. Good call BA. If nothing else by inspiring me to write about bloods and crips on my blog, you've made me quite the unlikely result for somebody's google search on gangs.

When post-its first hit the market back in 1980 I bet people were way impressed. I think it's safe to say 25 years later, the wow-factor has completely worn off. I actually hate post-its. They get all nasty and fuzzy on the once barely sticky part and they're prone to being curved and not lying flat like paper should. It's interesting though to note, pun realized not intended, that post-its were unveiled the same year I was born. I grew up in post-its golden age. I'd like to think that I've advanced much more since 1980 than the post-it has, but I suppose it's all subjective.

At a bar where I caught the tail end of a college basketball game Saturday afternoon, a guy brought his own Marquette poster to hang on the wall while he and some friends watched the Marquette game on tv. That's intense. I think I might take a page out of his book and bring a poster of James Brown out with me to bars and then put James Brown songs on the jukebox and put up the poster for the duration of the song. If you don't support your own picks nobody will.

A good way to inspire pity is to get a themed picture frame that says "best friends" or one that is in the shape of a heart, and then display it prominently, but leave it empty. Then when somebody asks you "why isn't there a picture in that frame?" you say something along the lines of "I guess people find me difficult to get close to."

I hope that today is the beginning of a wonderful week for all of us- especially you, current reader.

Résumé Dismay

I just completed one of the more frustrating experiences in recent memory. The frustration factor was only compounded by the fact that I'm positive there was a much easier way to do what I did, but I didn't know it. I just sent my resume to somebody but in the job post it asked to include the resume embedded within the email rather than as an attachment. Well, it just so happens that my résumé’s margins don't exactly coincide with the margins in a yahoo mail textbox. Therefore I couldn't just paste my resume as it was into the email. After multiple attempts at narrowing the margins of my résumé as a word document I finally gave up and proceeded to copy my résumé one line at a time and paste each line in the body of the email, aligning it just so. If I don't get this job, I'm going to kill somebody. Not because it's a dream job but because merely sending my resume to them was such an enormous pain in the ass. I'd much rather go through a five hour grueling interview than ever have to recopy my resume like that again. Feel free to post a comment letting me know how simply I could have remedied this problem and avoided all of my aggravation. I could use a little salt in this wound.

Did I mention that instead of trying to write amusing things, this blog is now going to be an outlet for me to bitch and moan?

I wonder what kind of a reaction Jeopardy champ extraordinaire Ken Jennings gets when he asks a waiter at a restaurant "What is the Soup of the Day?" If I was waiting on him I would say: Correct, that brings us to our last clue which is French translations for $600. He'd probably be unamused and stiff me on my tip, but I would have the last laugh because I rubbed his spoon all over my cold sore before I served him his Minestrone.

Sometimes I like to go into a restaurant and ask the server for a slice of humble pie. Then when they say "we don't have that", I reply "then you just served me a slice." It's a great way to spend two minutes on a cold winter night.

On a keyboard, there is but a one key gap differentiating the typed word heroes from the typed word herpes. I know there was the whole obituary typo on Curb your Enthusiasm but c'mon who's gonna hit the c instead of the a when typing aunt? That’s completely unrealistic. I could see the heroes herpes mix-up happening easily though. Perhaps a nice human interest headline in the local paper such as: "Baby rescued by local herpes." I'm sorry, I never meant for this blog to feature hypothetical Jay Leno headline. Please forgive me. I’m going to hang my head in shame now.

Enjoy the weekend

Recap-tion Show

Last night's Rejection show was something else. (I think it's odd that the expression something else has grown to have such a "wild" connotation. It doesn't make much sense. Something else as opposed to what? I don't understand. It just means an alternative. I shouldn't use expressions I don't get.) A capacity crowd witnessed a powerhouse of a show. Jon Friedman slow dancing with a Polar Bear and Patrick Borelli's rejected Letterman Top 10 list of signs you've definitely committed involuntary vehicular manslaughter in the state of Massachusetts were two of the many highlights of the show.

As for my segment I shared some Valentine's Day cards that I hope to market (we're not doing a show in February and I wanted to be the first comedian in the tri-state area to do a Valentine's day bit in 2005.) I made six cards, two each for three categories of people: those in the very beginning stages of a relationship, those in a serious relationship, and kids in elementary school who pass out Valentines to all of their classmates. For each category I brought up a volunteer from the audience and asked them to choose which of the two cards they thought stood the best chance of selling. Miraculously, when it came to the elementary school cards an adorable sixth grader, Finn Shanahan, son of New Yorker cartoonist and rejection show participant Danny Shanahan, volunteered. Finn is probably the first kid ever to attend a rejection show. I couldn't have scripted things more perfectly. The final card I presented was designed as a response to the card a kid might receive from the girl in his class he likes. The front of the card reads: "Will I Be Your Valentine?" Then on the inside it reads: "Maybe if you hadn't asked every other boy in the class. I'm not into whores." Needless to say Finn liked the card. I apologized to his parents in advance for the phone call from the principal they're sure to receive February 14th after Finn gives the card to some innocent 12 year-old girl. Finn stole the show yet again at the end when Jon Friedman asked if any audience members wanted to come on stage and slow dance with the Polar Bear. Finn nuzzled up to the bear and looked like he'd never been more content. Watch out for Finn Shanahan world.

NPR recorded the show and interviewed us afterwards. That's cool, huh? I'll be sure to alert you as to when that piece is going to air-probably not for a couple of weeks though.

I'm back at it again tonight at 9pm at the Telephone bar. Here's that link again: http://localcomedian.com/tbar/index.html

Imagine if this performing business actually provided me with a livable income. That would be something else.

Do you think dogs are self-conscious about the fact that when they get wet they wreak? That could be kind of tough. Wet-dog is an awful smell that people talk about. Imagine if unless you used tons of soap, getting wet made you stink horribly. I bet if you could translate barks one of the things dogs say a lot is: "how about a rain jacket for me so when it's raining out I don't have to smell like shit? A poncho would also suffice." Actually, judging from the frequency with which dogs sniff asses and lick their own genitals, perhaps their sense of a pleasing scent is somewhat different than ours. Their willingness to eat their own vomit lends further credence to this theory. Could dogs and humans have inverse senses of smell? Does fabric softener to a dog smell like morning breath? Pine needles like sweaty socks? I think I've got a groundbreaking experiment on my hands here.

It's my friend Adam Grossman's birthday today. It was my cousin Kevin's yesterday. Happy birthday to the both of ya's!

Point of clarification: the aforementioned polar bear from the rejection show was a man dressed in a big polar bear costume.

Later.

Rejection Show Tonight

I've been working feverishly putting together a beautiful arts and craftsy presentation for tonight's rejection show. Won't you join me for it?

The Rejection Show
1/19/04 PS 122
1st Avenue and 9th Street
8pm-$7

I rejected my idea of sharing rejected children's books such as:

'See Spot Nooooooooo!' in which the lovable pup gets flattened by a reckless mail truck while burrowing in a pile of curbside leaves.

Maybe I'll see some of you there.

p.s. I suggest mittens

Eating It and Liking It

Many thanks to those who braved the cold to come out to Luna Lounge last night. It was a great show and I was glad be part of it. It was nice to have some familiar faces in the front row. Special thanks to the guy in the audience with the phenomenal bellowing laugh. You sure know how to make a comedian feel like his pursuits are worthwhile.

Speaking of shows, this is a busy week for me. There is a rejection show on Wednesday. Go check out the info on the Jon Friedman link over there --->
(scroll down)

Also on Thursday I’m doing more comedy of the stand up variety at the telephone bar. Info on that is available at: http://localcomedian.com/tbar/index.html

Both shows ought to be nothing short of spectacular.

Exree Hipp (my NYUPBL team) has another game tonight. We’re playing the Usual Suspects. I think a big key to the game will be whether Kevin Spacey brings his Verbal Kint gimp game or his intimidating, able-bodied Kaiser Solce game. Last week we crushed a team called Chocolate Thunder. There were differing opinions prior to the game as to what race the majority of the players on Chocolate Thunder would be. Ironically enough, they were all white. I’m sure they get a kick out of that every time they see their name in print (including on the back of their jerseys which they paid extra money for- not to mention did on their own time.) It’s really funny because Chocolate Thunder was Darryl Dawkins’ nickname and he was an explosive, black player best known for shattering the glass of the backboard with the force of his ferocious dunks. So when you see Chocolate Thunder as your opponent you might think that the team is comprised of powerful black guys and then seven hardly conditioned white guys show up. The joke though ends up being on them, as they get run off the court because they suck. Nice try though fellas, you almost psyched us out.

Some people keep film and or batteries in their fridges in order to preserve them. I think this is dangerous. A drunken snack or just a late night groggy one could easily turn into a disaster with such inedible foods in an appliance renowned for housing stuff you eat. Isn’t battery acid lethal if ingested? I think that then and there should be sufficient grounds for keeping it out of your fridge. You can buy new batteries for one dolla from the nice Asian lady on the train. The extra battery life is not worth the potential human life. It’s too risky. Especially when you take into account that late at night AA batteries look remarkably like half packs of Rolos still in the wrapper. I know what you’re thinking, nobody would ever be able to eat just half the pack, Rolos are far too deliciously irresistible. You're right, that's a tough point to contest.

I’m going to go try to hunt down a pack of Rolos before I take my basketball t-shirt/jersey to the Mat. The hand soap/shower home wash didn’t really do the trick last week. Have a Tuesday and a half.

Magnetic Strip Tease

I think ATM's have been around long enough that the diagrams that instruct you as to how you are supposed to swipe your card through should be less confusing. Can't they all be uniform? You should never have to do an upside down backhand swipe that's only a fluid motion for a handful of expert ultimate frisbee players. I realize that the slot option presents the danger of you forgetting your card and having it swallowed by the machine, but I'd rather have that happen than suffer the humiliation of feebly swiping again and again like a luggage toting midwestern tourist trying to pass through the New York subway turnstile.

I'm going to pace nervously for a couple of hours now so that tonight at my show I can appear to be at ease. If you want to see if I'm able to conceal my anxiety or you just want to see a group of very talented comedians and me, here is the info: www.eatingit.com

The least you can do is factor the content of people's character into your judgments of them today.

Getting Panned

Check out this comment somebody posted last night regarding what I wrote yesterday:

At 10:39 PM, Anonymous said...
That was hands-down, without question, the absolute worst and most disappointing blog post since this blogs inception. My day revolves around a solid blog reading, and tonight the spinning has stopped.

How could you say that, anonymous? My posts on November 17th, November 18th and December 7th, 12th and 20th were all indisputably weaker than yesterday's. If you're going to write a scathing comment at least do your homework. Though your words were harsh, their bite was tempered by the fact that you said that your world revolves around my blog. To me that means one of two things: either your comment was in jest-in which case I'd suggest you work on your sense of humor seeing as how right now it comes across more as unbridled cruelty, or the other possibility is that you are a psycho. That is a much more exciting possibility. I'd be flattered to have an internet psycho/stalker. That's a sure sign that you're on your way to making it. I also can't deny the beauty of the metaphor you created what with the spinning of your world stopping and all. That's powerful stuff. Just a quick tip grammar tip, blogs as used in "blogs inception" could stand an apostrophe. Keep up the constructive feedback pal.

I initially read the comment late last night and I wrote a much meaner response in which I let anonymous know that I hoped his/her first child would be stillborn, but in the light of day I've realized that type of nastiness isn't fit to print.

I don't think it's cool to blow your nose on tissue paper and then crumple it up and put it in your pocket for later use. Especially if you aren't extremely extremely poor. That stuff is made for single-use only. C'mon guys, tissue paper is actually quite inexpensive. You can get napkins and toilet paper for free from almost anywhere. You look dirty and disgusting when you take that crusty, bunched up snot rag out of your pocket and put it to your face again. I'll buy you a pack. I don't care if you're a complete stranger, just don't subject me to that. If you're married to blowing your snot into pre-existing hardened snot for whatever reason, at least buy a handkerchief. Not that they're not also gross, but at least they are designed for multiple uses.

If only I had galoshes today.

Have a blessed weekend. Especially you, anonymous.

...and that's why I wrote this song about you

I think that the Carly Simon song ‘You’re so vain’ is kind of ridiculous. I mean, think about it. Whoever the dude is who she’s accusing of being so vain he probably thinks the song is about him, is right. It is about him. I’m sure if she was so upset about his vanity that she wrote a song about it, she probably mentioned to him once or twice that she thought he was vain. Then he hears this song that she wrote and he knows the song must be about him, doesn’t he, doesn’t he? It couldn’t be more obvious. But that doesn’t make him vain it only makes him not an idiot. Whether or not he’s vain is subject to debate. Carly clearly stated her case- and even went so far as to set it to music. He on the other hand might argue that he just wasn’t that into her and his lack of interest translated into behavior that she interpreted as vanity. Either way, it’s not his thinking that the song is about him that makes him “so vain.” Apparently Carly had many a famous lover and there is wide speculation as to who the song is actually about. However, logic dictates that any guy who thinks that Carly is singing about him when she actually isn’t, isn’t the guy she’s accusing of being so vain. So you see, the whole song makes no sense. And that’s the name of that tune.

Read Alert

At the beginning of my senior year of high school, while preparing my personal statements for college applications, my parents encouraged me to meet with our neighbor three doors down. His name was and most likely still is Bill. Bill worked at a well respected local private high school. In addition to teaching English he specialized in preparing students for college applications and offering them guidance regarding their essays and such. I didn’t particularly want to meet with him but I failed to convince my parents that it actually could possibly hurt to give him an hour of my time.

I reluctantly met with Bill in the dining room of his home. Bill didn’t know me all that well and he figured that in order to best gauge how I should approach my personal statement he’d ask me some questions to try to get to know me a little better. It’s worth noting that Bill offered me his services for free. Talk about a kind neighborly gesture. No doubt Bill could have, and in other instances probably did charge a handsome fee for his insights. After asking me several general questions about my personality Bill asked me what my favorite book was. I am not particularly proud of this, but in high school (much like present day) I wasn’t exactly an “avid reader.” In English classes I often opted for the Cliffs Notes as a substitute rather than a complement to the actual texts. When Bill posed the question “what’s your favorite book” I panicked slightly. Given the context, Shell Silverstein, Dr. Seuss and Goodnight Moon all seemed like inappropriate responses. As I racked my brain searching for a respectable answer I remembered a book I had recently enjoyed after borrowing it from my father over a vacation.

“It’s probably this book called Rule of the Bone, by Russell Banks,” I declared to Bill. Rule of the Bone probably wasn’t my favorite book ever, but in a tight spot it seemed sufficient. Never mind that I’d only read about 175 of the 390 pages before I lost interest and gave up on it. Good thing I picked an obscure, recently released book rather than a classic that I might have to discuss with ol’ English teacher Bill. “So if you were Chappie, Adam,” Bill replied “would you have gone to Jamaica?” Uh-oh. This was not good. Chappie was the protagonist of Rule of the Bone. That much I knew. But a trip to Jamaica? Not so familiar with that plot development. So you see at this point I’m in a bit of a jam. This neighbor of mine who has ever so kindly offered to help me with my personal statement, who has welcomed me into his home, whom I have no need whatsoever to impress, who isn’t grading me or anything like that, is about to bust me telling him that the book I claimed to be my favorite book of all time is actually a book I haven’t come close to finishing. A book in which it appears I failed even to reach the main character’s central conflict. A book that he clearly has read – and I can only assume in its entirety. This was not going to look good.

Miraculously though, I managed to bullshit my way out of the situation without my fraud being discovered- so far as I could tell. I told him it was a tough call but given everything Chappie had gone through (at least during the first 8 chapters) I too probably would have gone to Jamaica. I winced internally fearing Bill would reply “actually Adam, Chappie never went to Jamaica. I was just testing you, and you failed. You were just sort of giving off this “I haven’t even read my supposed favorite book vibe.” Unfortunately I’m going to have to see to it that you don’t get into any colleges now. Do you want to tell your parents about this or should I?” Luckily Bill wasn’t a sadistic fuck and we moved on to another topic of conversation. I don’t remember what ever came of my meeting with Bill, but I do know that after I escaped it unscathed I vowed never again to declare something my favorite unless I had fully experienced it. To this day I only claim foods I’ve actually tasted to be my favorite foods, movies I’ve seen in their entirety comprise my list of favorite films and only after I saw something green did I decide green is my favorite color. It’s tough to stay true to such a stringent policy but I think it’s for the best.

After that novella, maybe I’ll break out some easy to read bullet points tomorrow. Have a nice one.

Free Samples of Me

So I mentioned last week that I’ve got a show that I’m excited about this upcoming Monday at Luna Lounge. The lineup for the show is viewable at http://www.eatingit.com/. Looks like a dandy. The show is on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Eating it doesn’t typically draw the most racially diverse crowd, but given that two of the comedians in the show, including host Mike Britt, are African American, I’m leaning towards doing a normal set instead of my 7-minute roast of Dr. King. On the website for the show there is a link to this here blog. I feel added pressure to deliver strong posts this week seeing as how people considering attending the show may check this out to see what I’m all about. If you're one of said people the short answer is riddles.

Actually, it might be in my best interest to tank this week’s posts so as to lower expectations for any first time readers/potential show-goers. That way when I break out my stellar real material on stage, you’ll be all the more impressed. That tactic probably stands a greater chance of being effective if I don’t clearly outline it as I just did. Blasted broken backspace key!

I’m thinking that the worst part about the urban professional basketball league is that you have to wash your jersey every week. Who do I look like, Snuggles? I’m going to pen a letter to the commissioner proposing that our laundry bills should be deductible from the fee to play in the league. I’ll let you know how that pans out.

Speaking of how things panned out, I met up with my long lost friend Collins last night at his band’s concert. American Princes is their name. They were pretty sweet. Take a listen at http://www.americanprinces.com/ . Collins and I talked a bit before and after their set. It wasn’t stranger in the elevator awkward, but eight years later I think it’s fair to say we’ve missed a stride or two. We might meet up today with a goal of attaining asking questions that you know the answers to awkwardness.

Enjoy your Tuesday, which thanks to Domino’s Pizza is now the most fun day of the week.

Rolling the Dice

I did something I haven't done in years yesterday. No, I didn't change my sheets, I played Monopoly. Just to clarify, I change my sheets regularly -regularly, seasonally, same difference. I don't know how recently any of you guys have played Monopoly, but let me assure you it's still infuriating to lose. Things began so promisingly. I purchased more desirable properties and had more cash than either of my roommates. However, my advantageous position led them to conspire against me. I couldn't get a reasonable trade offer to save my life. Then lady luck abandoned me. My roommate Tim invested everything he owned into his lone Monopoly, the reds: Indiana, Kentucky and Illinois Avenues. Lurking ominously just beyond the $1000 beacon of Free Parking, over the course of three trips to that stretch of the board, I landed on his built up properties thrice. How could I be so forgetful? The first time I stayed in the hotel at Indiana Avenue they took almost all my money, yet time and time again the red lights, familiar surroundings and vacancy signs lured this weary traveler back there. They took everything. All my properties, every cent I ever earned and eventually even my trusty iron. Being the first one out is the absolute worst. I looked at my two roommates sitting with their extensive properties and wads of cash and did the only thing I could in that situation: belittled them for playing a child's board game. I tried to convince myself that I was happy to be done with such nonsense, but it really ate me up inside. I should have blown on the dice before rolling. Maybe that would have kept me away from those ruthless criminals at Hotel Indiana. Why didn't I build on my property sooner? Where did things go wrong? Actually, Tim's luck continued and within twenty minutes of my exit, Tim bankrupted Alex. Tim works in real estate development and claims that he's a great monopoly player. It sucks that he backed up his taunts. Now we might have to play again to try to prove he's just lucky. I don't know if I'd be able to tolerate the pain of seeing my once profitable properties mortgaged again. I can't handle the shame of tiptoeing around the board praying to land in the safe haven of jail. That's no way to live.

Perhaps I should go buy a Sorry board and rebuild my confidence that way. Talk about a skill game that I dominate. I think that the geniuses who devised Sorry's consistently come from behind, radically shifting lead changes and almost always thrilling finish game play probably could have cured a disease or cracked some important codes if they hadn't been so leisure-oriented. Not that I'm complaining.

I'm going to see a band called the American Princes play tonight. Their lead guitarist/keyboardist/vocalist is a guy named Collins. Collins and I went on a Deer Hill Summer Expedition trip the summer after our sophomore year of high school (think less hardcore Outward Bound). Then junior year of high school he came up from Little Rock, AK and visited for a weekend. I haven't seen him since. We've talked less than five times since then and hadn't spoken in years until we were reunited through friendster. Anyway here are some things I hope not to say when we reunite tonight:

So what have you been doing these last 8 years?

Are those new pants?

You smell the exact same way as I remember.

Good thing that Y2K scare turned out just to be a scare, right?

Too bad about Gene Siskel, huh?

What do you make of all this super minty gum in all its weird pack shapes these days?

How bout Harry Potter? Didn't see that fella coming did we?

They say your taste buds change every year, are there any foods that you like now that you didn't like back in '97?

I'll let you guys know how the reunion goes. I hope this isn't just another manic Monday for all of you. Keep those eternal flames burning and if you want to get crazy, go ahead and walk like an Egyptian.

Trading a Stethoscope for a Holster

Rather than having Cliff play a doctor on the Cosby show they should have made him a constable. Then whenever trouble reared its ugly head in Cosbyville somebody would place an urgent call asking for Constable Huxtable. Can you imagine how cute it would have been when Raven Simone answered one of those calls and asked "who's Consa-bull Hux-a bull?" back when she was a cute tv star not a tragic way too old for Nickelodeon one who you wouldn't even be excited about running into at a bar.

If people do something that's clever or sly and you say "smooth move" in a sincere tone it tends to throw them a bit.

I saw a review for Dave Gorman's one-man show called 'Googlewhack!' that read: In A Word, 'Googlewhack!' Wins! I think that's lazy journalism to review shows with one word. I bet the one-man show reviewer was surprised when his editor handed him a ticket to the show and said I want one word on it on my desk first thing tomorrow morning-though technically it's 5 words. I wonder if that got him in trouble over there at the Post? I guess he could have been a girl. I shouldn't assume. By the by (whatever that means) I went to Googlewhack! last night and though it wasn't competing for anything as far as I could tell and therefore didn't technically "win" it was supremely clever and entertaining. I definitely recommend it. Googlewhack! actually did "win" when compared to the show 'Democracy' that I took in this afternoon. (By “took in” I mean saw rather than adopted) I'd say I couldn't fully appreciate 'Democracy' on account of fatigue and a mild hangover but I think that would ignore the main obstacle to my appreciation: it sucking. That's too harsh. Allow me to rephrase: It was a little slow, dense and late 60's German politics-centric for my taste.

Enjoy the remainder of your weekend. (Does remainder cast an ominous tone on that sentence at all? That wasn't my intention, but consider yourselves forewarned nonetheless.)

Work is Work

We made it through the week everybody. Congratulations. My dad is coming to town this afternoon. Nothing like some qt (and fine dining) with the old man. Besides the financial and time structuring benefits of working, I think the next biggest perk is that no matter how productive one is in their 9-5 job, if you have a day job people ask you “how’s work?” or “How was your day?” These are simple questions to answer, often requiring just one word responses such as: “fine” or “solid” or perhaps a cliché “same old same old,” maybe “another day another dollar.” But when you’re unemployed you don’t have the luxury of such mindless responses to inquiries about your days. People don’t ask “how was your day?” It’s always: “What did you do today?” or “What have you been doing with yourself?” I resent being challenged so much during simple small talk. I don’t make you account for your time at work. I bet we were on the internet about the same amount of time as each other. Heck, (sorry about the language, I’m a little peeved) you probably even checked your email more frequently than I did, but because you’re “gainfully employed” I’m the only one who has to provide evidence of my daily productivity. From now on I’m going to ask my working friends what they did today rather than how there day was. Either that or get a job. I don’t want to get anybody’s hopes up but let’s just say résumés have been flying out of my mailbox of late. For fear of jinxing myself, mums the word.

An American Apparel store opened in my neighborhood somewhat recently. They sell shirts of all varieties in every shade of color that occurs in a rainbow (whites, blacks and greys too). What’s unique about American Apparel is that all of their clothes are made here in the US by workers who receive good wages and humane treatment. They’re the anti-sweatshop outfitter if you will and they proudly advertise this in their stores. Initially I thought “how awesome.” Then I saw that their shirts were a good 20% more expensive than places like the Gap. I guess my morality has a pretty cheap price tag. $15 rather than $18 for a t-shirt you say? Manufacture ‘em however you need to, Gap. I’m on board.

I just developed my pictures from Cabo San Lucas and in the process finally got back my pictures from a trip to Costa Rica that I took with five friends last May. It’s kind of fun to relive a trip so long after you’ve experienced it. (See you what you lose out on digital camera owners?) Looking through the pictures jogged my memory about an incident that took place while I waited at the San Jose airport for my flight back to New York via Dallas. A fellow American with whom I had shared some pleasant small talk while we waited in the gate area went to the food court prior to our flight boarding. When he returned to his gate area seat (one seat away from me), he and his girlfriend began eating food from Burger King. As he took out his whopper and began to unwrap it, he turned to me and asked “you wanna piece of burger, man?” A piece of burger? A generous offer to be certain, but somewhat logistically complex, no? It’s quite possible that my compatriot merely made this gesture to be polite, banking on my having the common sense and courtesy enough to decline. But let’s say I accept. What then? Does he give me, a virtual stranger, the first bite of his whopper? Mind you though, he said piece not bite. Am I to believe then that he would have ripped a section of burger off for me with his hands? Burger King tends not to give you a knife and fork with your Whopper combo meals. If indeed his offer was sincere and he felt it rude not to offer somebody food when he was eating, why not make it easy and ask if I wanted some fries? Tact ultimately led me to decline his kind albeit potentially incredibly awkward offer but my sheer curiosity as to how I would have taken that piece fills me with deep regret. I realize many of you will now be unable to sleep tonight as possible outcomes of this scenario play themselves out in your mind. My apologies.

If you live in the New York area and don’t have plans for celebrating Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s holiday on the 17th of January, I’d encourage you to come to the Luna Lounge where I will be making my personally highly anticipated debut at the well respected Eating It comedy show. I’ll probably obsess about this as the date nears, but I wanted to throw it out there for the handful of you local readers in case your new calendars are already starting to fill up-specific details in due time. Hope your weekend gets off to a rip-roaring start tonight.

Bronx-bound mi amigo?

Today is Thursday-as good as it gets as far as weekdays are concerned. On the subway today I witnessed an elderly white man trying to help out a seemingly lost Asian couple. The couple stared blankly at the subway map on the train when we arrived at the Union Square stop. As I exited the train I overhead the elderly man say to the couple. “You wanna take this down a couple more stops to Canal Street for Chinatown. You wanna go to Chinatown, right?” Based on the response from the Asian guy it didn’t appear that he spoke any English. Here’s hoping that I missed an earlier part of the conversation when the couple somehow conveyed that they were indeed trying to go to Chinatown and that the elderly man wasn’t just playing a hunch on where they were headed.

En route to my transfer from the downtown 6 train to the eastbound L train I happened upon a team of volunteers in the subway station who were administering free stress tests as part of some promotion for the book Dianetics-which post googling I’ve discovered is authored by L Ron Hubbard founder of the church of Scientology. Anyhow, I initially walked past the testing stations but then thought: hey, I don’t have anything “incredible” for today’s blog entry, maybe this stress test will provide a humorous anecdote. I’ll end the suspense right here: it did not. The test consisted of me holding two hollow metal tubes that were connected to a machine that allegedly read my stress level by picking up on my mental energy as it related to questions that the woman volunteer asked me. I “discovered” that not having a job causes me stress. Imagine me not having stopped and never having gained such revelatory insight. I shudder at the thought. I’m only recounting this story in a lame attempt to validate my decision to double-back to take the test. Oh yeah, and after the test I chatted briefly with the woman administrating the test and long story short…I’m a devout Scientologist now.

Of the many things that must confuse/disappoint non-native English speakers as they are learning our language, I bet watching a “Soap Opera” for the first time is near the top of the list. They probably feel pretty foolish afterwards, realizing that their conjured images of elaborately gowned bars of Dove belting out Italian falsetto were somewhat absurd. Nonetheless, you can’t blame them for being bummed out if that’s what they were expecting and As The World Turns is what they got.

As a holiday present I’m getting an iPod from my parents. Thanks mom and dad. Before I purchase it though, I thought I’d ask if anybody knows of a superior competitor to the iPod. I always hesitate to pull the trigger on technology related purchases for fear of winding up with the next Laser Disc player or Turbo Graphics 16 system. I guess that fear would explain why my cell phone has a rotary dial. Any non-iPod devotees out there?

Have a lovely evening and watch Life As We Know it on ABC at 8pm eastern standard time instead of the OC because it’s a better television show.

Coming with Baggage

I read in a friend's blog that he recently experienced some luggage retrieval difficulties. When my cousin Alex flew to Cleveland over Thanksgiving she too suffered a baggage delay. Luckily the airline she traveled had a policy in place to deal with her missing luggage predicament. They assured her that they would get the luggage to her within 24 hours. The way they phrased it though it was as if it was a pizza delivery policy. They kept repeating that they had until 2pm to get the bags to her. My question is: or else what? If they don't get your bags to you within the 24 hour period do you then get your bags that you already own, that they've lost for free? Wow. What an incredible reward for their tardiness/negligence. I can't imagine that policy comforts lost baggage owners as much as it confuses or concerns them. Perhaps if they can't get you your bags in time you don’t get your bags at all? Do they call and apologize. "I'm sorry Alex, we just couldn't live up to our word and we're entirely too shamed to bring you your bags now. This won't happen again."

An undermanned Exree Hipp team (there were but five of us) dropped a tough one last night to the Mystery Machine. I complained vehemently after two of the personal foul calls on me that were clearly clean blocked shots. After the game I ran into a player on the other team whom I had blocked on one of those two "fouls" and asked him if it had been a clean block. Luckily, he admitted that it had been. If I had been him, even if I knew it had been a clean block, I would have said "no, I think the ref made the right call" just to be a complete dick and not vindicate that little cry baby (me). But that’s just me- a hypothetical dick and an actual cry baby.

I found a crumpled piece of paper in the pocket of some shorts that I apparently wore during a rejection show many months ago. On it I saw a list of rejected movie sequels that I had made up. They were all along the lines of Sister Act 2: Back in The Habit, or Speed 2: Cruise Control. I'll share some of them if you'd like...you're just saying that. No, it's fine. I don't care, they're not that funny anyway...alright, alright, I'll do it.

Cast Away 2: Indescribably Terrible Luck

Uncle Buck 2: Why does Uncle Buck's house smell like rotting flesh?

(as long as I'm kicking a man while he's down...six feet)

Cool Runnings 2: It's not like Coach to be so late, mon

Ferris Bueller's Second Consecutive Day Off: Ironically, all that running around actually got Ferris sick

Shawshenk Redemption 2: In hindsight, we should have gotten that boating permit

Forrest Gump 2: Still Retarded

How bout you guys, you got any movie sequels you'd like to see?

My cousin Kevin thinks it's unnecessary in the Jeep Cherokee commercial in which somebody drives a jeep into an active volcano and gets blasted out with the jeep remaining unscathed that it says in fine print "do not attempt." I'm inclined to agree. Actually I think it should say in bold print: If you attempt this we hope you enjoy the molten lava as it envelops your body and instantly burns your flesh off!

Have a wild and wacky Wednesday.

Quote Unquote Dinosaurs

I recently met somebody who had hung out with Carl Everett at a bar in Chicago this summer. That got me to remembering how Everett-a hot-tempered, fairly talented, major league outfielder-is outspoken about the fact that he doesn’t believe in dinosaurs. He believes their “existence” to be a government conspiracy and he insists that there is no real proof that they ever roamed the earth. Like most people my initial reaction to hearing this was: Wow, Carl Everett is a moron. However, I think it’s much more entertaining to imagine Carl is right. For absolutely no apparent reason government officials worldwide have collaborated for years and years to put on the most elaborate showcase of “excavations” “archeological digs” “reassembled bones” “paleontology departments” and the like, all in an attempt to hoodwink us, the people of the world. And of course, having no reason to suspect any government let alone many governments coordinating their efforts of trying to carry out such a seemingly fruitless ploy, we’ve fallen for it hook, line and sinker. That is, everyone except Chicago White Sox left fielder Carl Everett. Think how fiercely that must infuriate and baffle the perpetuators of this global myth. Why!?! Why won’t you grant us the satisfaction of falling for our insanely elaborate and incomprehensibly pointless hoax Carl? How could you possibly see through our flawlessly constructed illusion? People so much smarter than you don’t even bat an eyelash at the proclamation of “new findings,” from the “Mesoziac age” yet you remain steadfast in your disbelief. How could you possibly be onto us Everett? What can we do to convince you of our harmless and unfathomably well calculated, documented and corroborated lies about these so called “dinosaurs.” Dammit Carl! Don’t deny us our satisfaction. We’ve put so much into something that we stand nothing to gain from making up, but nonetheless chose to and now we don’t even get to enjoy it because you inexplicably albeit accurately won’t buy it. Curses!

I stayed up last night to watch Craig Ferguson, the new host of the Late Late Show on CBS. I’d be lying if I said the Scottish accent isn’t charming as hell, but otherwise I feel like he’s not way way funnier than I am. It was decent though for a first show. Maybe I can get his job when Conan takes over for Leno and I can be the new Late Late night it guy, bringing my brand of wacky sarcasm to the national airwaves. Ferguson did a bit called “things you’ll never see on my show” which included having a sidekick called the vaguely racist parrot or having a segment called “if they had a unibrow” in which he showed a picture of Jennifer Garner with a unibrow- both digs at Conan, ouch! Here is a list of five things I promise not to have on my late late night talk show in the as of yet undetermined event that I get one:

5. Guests with two first names. Can’t trust ‘em. Sorry Michael Jordan, a rule is a rule.

4. Scantily clad models for roles in sketches. Take it all off or take off ladies.

3. A cheesy music themed “lesson-learned” conclusion a la Full House. That will happen between my first and second guests.

2. Foreign-born citizens in my house band-no explanation necessary.

1. A trademark sign-off. It gets stale if every show ends with the same trite goodbye, i.e. “that’s my show, if you didn’t like I don’t care because I bet you’re a lonely piece of trash. What are you doing up at this hour anyway you degenerate piece of judgmental shit. You think you could do a better job than I could? Well too bad because we’re never going to find out. Stay tuned for your late news replayed. See you tomorrow.”

Auto formatting is really aggravating. Thanks but no thanks Mr. Paper Clip, I’m actually not making an outline. How bout I’ll contact you if I need some of your “short cuts,” otherwise you keep your two cents to yourself and stay the hell off of my document. That would be great. Thanks.

My basketball team, Exree Hipp, looks to keep the perfect season alive tonight vs. the Mystery Machine. I hear Shaggy can shoot the lights out, so I better bring my A-game. Have a good day.

I feel like it's been a year since I last wrote

And it has. Get it? I'll give you a moment to recover from that gut-buster... alright. Hey everyone, happy 2005! I thought taking a break from writing would allow me the opportunity to collect my thoughts and attack my blog with newfound enthusiasm, cunning and insight. Instead, I forget how I ever wrote anything of remote interest whatsoever. So...what did you do for New Years? Um...(swallow) any cool Christmas presents or holiday gifts or whatever? (Is it hot in here or what?) What else, what else?

Cabo San Lucas gets dos thumbs up. We stayed in this incredible 7 bedroom house on a hill in the "Beverly Hills" of Cabo. If you saw this house on an episode of Cribs you would be impressed. Mountains on one-side, Marina straight ahead, expansive multi-level tile-deck, two pools, hot-tub, elevator. Needless to say it made my crawlspace of a bedroom seem particularly unspectacular upon my return home.

We caught a 120 pound Marlin one day. He put up a valiant fight as five of us took turns reeling him in. But our decided advantage in the battle became overwhelming when we got him boat-side and our two boat guides pulled him out of the water and repeatedly clubbed him over the head with a small metal bat. That hardly seemed fair. It felt reminiscent of the bull fight I witnessed in Seville, Spain when my friend and I suggested that the bull, who fights with everything he's got for rounds and rounds, must be exasperated when the guys with short swords sprint into the ring from behind and give him a run-by stabbing. Both the Bull and the Marlin must be thinking "give me a fucking break here, huh? Where the hell does one get those weapons? I have no weapon to use let alone opposable thumbs/limbs with which to operate any such weapon should I be provided with one. This is bullshit." All they're asking for is a level playing field. Guilty as I felt, that Marlin sushi we ate that night sure tasted delicious.

On the vacation overall I gained the following:

A greater appreciation for Alison's family (I couldn't have felt more welcome)

Confidence in my Spanish speaking ability (es como una bicicleta)

Five pounds from the continuous consumption of chips, guacamole and Pacifico cervezas

19 hard fought yards on four carries

Advice to everyone: You're supposed to complement people's tans not question their lack thereof. Tanning isn't rocket science. I think I did it right, but for some reason I look ghost-like next to my bronzed girlfriend. Stop asking me why I'm not tan. I don't know. I gave it a shot, that's all I can ask of myself.

Is it bad when in a given ten day period the most positive contribution you make to society is ripping apart several plastic six-pack holders so that no sea-life is harmed should that garbage find its way into an Ocean?

Speaking of Oceans and harm, I just saw W speaking at a press conference with his daddy and Clinton. They're heading some private funding for victims of the Tsunami. Oddly enough W's address didn't include the word Tsunami. Apparently he can't quite wrap his head around the whole silent T concept. I also saw footage of Elephants in Indonesia being used to sort through the wreckage because they have not yet been able to get machinery out there. I bet NHL officials took note thinking that if the lockout ends but the Zamboni operators stay on strike, elephants might be the answer.

I think the concept of photogenia is hogwash. Unphotogenic you say? I bet she's also "really nice."

I hope everyone has at least a couple of resolutions left that they haven't already broken. Welcome back.