There I was, strolling through the mall searching for birthday gifts for my significant other, and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I was starving! Having subconsciously decided to fast that day for no particular reason (how come this is always more tolerable than fasting on Yom Kippur?), I approached the food court with glee. I always have a tendency to go for the Asian food, though in 27 years I have rarely found an establishment in a mall food court that wasn't disgusting. The exception is Sarku, home of the excellent, affordable chicken teriyaki. But with so much consistently crappy food, why do I keep returning again and again? It's got to be the samples.
The appeal of free food is timeless for Americans, so much so that on Election Day chains like Starbucks, Krispy Kreme, and Ben & Jerry's promote free drinks and snacks just to get you into their establishments. And sadly, it works. This past Election day I found myself Google mapping Ben and Jerry's and gave serious consideration to driving 45 minutes to the nearest for a small vanilla cone. Never mind that the gas needed to get there would at least match the price of a large. Fortunately I came to my senses, though with Starbucks (whose coffee I don't even particularly like) only minutes away, stopping there was a no-brainer.
Free samples seem to ignite a similar urge in most of us. Case in point: Every year when I visit Ogunquit Beach during the summer, I make a point to stop at Stonewall Kitchen, located about 15 minutes east on Route 1. But I don't go for the decor, or the cook books, or for gift baskets, or even to buy food. Stonewall is a sample haven, featuring an assortment of sauces, dips, jams, syrups, peanut butters, cheeses, crackers, and chocolates. If Vegas had to estimate the odds of my actually purchasing any of these items, the Beef-line would be hovering around 4%. But that doesn't stop me from visiting every chance I get.
I don't think I have any specific tells (had to insert a poker reference somewhere) when it comes to identifying me as an enthusiastic sampler. Sure, I'm a tad on the heavier side, but visit your local shopping mall and the average weight for consumers tends to jump about 20 pounds, so I'm really right in the ballpark. Anyway, on my most recent visit I was making the rounds, passing Sbarro, Subway, et al. until I reached the Asian options. A kind man willingly threw himself at me with a sample of chicken on a toothpick. It actually wasn't half-bad, but I needed more if I was to make an informed decision. I smiled and continued on my way. Five seconds later a woman from the next location offered me some chicken. By the way, why do they always offer chicken? Is it the cheapest item to make or do they actually think it's so delicious no one could possibly resist? Regardless, the second sample left something to be desired so I moved on to the final Asian option. A new woman held her tray of chicken the same as her competitors, turning from left to right, surveying the crowd. When I got close, she sharply and unexpectedly turned 180 degrees. I'm not kidding. Her back was to me. I figured her boss had called her so she turned to face him. She didn't move for a few seconds, so finally I spoke.
"Excuse me," I inquired politely. "Can I try one?"
She subtly shook her head once without giving me a verbal response. I was confused, so I asked again.
"Excuse me, could I have one?"
"NO!"
I laughed in disbelief, and began scanning the area for any traces of cameras, or for that matter Ali G, Ryan Seacrest, Ashton Kutcher, David Letterman, or Jamie Kennedy. I thought Dave Chappelle might jump out from behind a plant and declare, "You been Zapped!" At least that would've been funny, but with nobody in sight, I asked again.
"I can't have a sample?"
"NO!"
She was even more emphatic the second time, so I asked why not?
"One per person."
I asked what she was talking about, explaining that I hadn't been to her station or asked her for one yet. She angrily started waving her finger in a circle, pointing at the other Asian restaurants located next to her's. I smiled, but more shocked than anything else. She was like a bad SNL character.
"So you're serious? I can't have a sample?"
She didn't even answer me as I looked at her. Perplexed, I kind of half-laughed and started to leave. All of a sudden, she whipped her heads back around, jammed a toothpick into a piece of chicken as if she was butchering it, and practically shoved it in my face.
"Here," she snarled.
I had almost no idea how to react, though annoyance had clearly taken over at this point.
"What are you kidding me? Forget it."
The sample bitch had made up my mind for me. I walked back to the first eatery, ordered some chicken & broccoli, fried rice, and a soda. I decided to strategically position myself at a table very close to the woman who'd snubbed me. Needless to say I wanted her to see me eating food prepared by her competition, but more than that, I was curious to know how she treated other customers. Inconsistency was the word that first came to mind. Some people she quickly approached, inviting them to experience the succulent flavor that must've enveloped her tender chicken. But judging by the tormented faces of those who were subjected to this death offering, I hadn't missed much. But strangely enough, several people walked right by her without being stopped, instead having to ask themselves for a sample. Still she didn't flat-out reject anybody else. While I pretended to make phone calls as I ate (my life is beyond excitement), I kept a firm eye on the sample bitch, which she caught about once a minute. My goal in addition to obtaining information was to make her as uncomfortable as humanly possible.
After finishing my dinner I went back to shopping and job hunting, stopping to apply in every store I thought wouldn't have me pulling my limited hair out if hired. However, I'm starting to fear I may indeed be too smart for several of these places. Job search engines like monster.com have proved useless, recommending positions I wouldn't consider unless I was crippled with an IQ of 12 and spoke no English. Does anyone actually find work on these websites? Last week a video store clerk told me over the phone that if I hadn't heard a reply by the end of the week they probably decided to go in another direction. Another direction? What does he think he's running a Fortune 500 company? How many directions can there be at a Family Video? I'm 27, know a ton about movies, and have great communication skills. It's a vicious cycle, being matched to jobs beneath me that I inexplicably can't land anyway. More on this at a later point.
Anyway, I didn't get too far from the food court, because I still didn't have a sufficient answer to the riddle of the evening. I was not going to let a situation this ridiculous keep me up at night wondering what happened. Too many people have been screwing me over, so I decided it was my turn. I approached the cashier, who seemed to be the manager as well. Unlike the sample bitch, he was smiling. I still had my soda cup from the other eatery.
"What Can I get you?"
"Nothing actually, but I wanted to ask you a something? Are you all owned by the same people,” pointing to the other Asian establishments near by.
Note: While I'd still consider the sampler (sounds like a McDonald's character) a moron for refusing me food earlier, I might at least have understood her frustration if they were all indeed owned by the same group. Watching hundreds of people walk by each day, take samples from the only restaurants offering them, and then order a number 2 meal with a gold crown from Burger King would annoy me as well. Although if I were in her shoes, I'd surely understand that good business comes first. But as it turns out, this line of thinking was irrelevant.
"No, we are not," he answered.
"Oh, wow. Ok well I wanted to let you know that your employee wouldn't give me a sample when I walked by."
The man looked perplexed.
"No sample?"
"No, she wouldn't give me one. I asked for one and she said no to me."
In a sudden panic that needless to say made me giggle, he grabbed a fork and reached into his chicken tray to give me some. I shook my head and waved my hand.
"No thanks. I don't want any now. I already ate."
I showed him my cup from the other location. Despite there being somewhat of a language barrier, a picture is worth a thousand words. The expression on his face made me pretty confident he knew what I was saying.
"Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I wanted a sample before, but she wouldn't give me one. So I didn't eat here."
He nodded and started conversing with a woman to his right. As I left he sort of shrugged and gave me a half-grin, seeming somewhat ashamed of what had happened. Bad business is bad business in any culture. I turned back and saw him calling the sampler towards him. I have no idea what was said, but he didn't look happy. While I hadn't received a straight answer directly from the sample bitch regarding the strange chain of events she'd provoked, I took some pleasure in knowing I hadn't let the situation stand. In this world you've got to stand up for yourself, whether arguing with a professor over an unfair grade, scrambling to find work at a Staples, or getting the sub par chicken sample you so richly deserve. Wouldn't it be ironic if the sample bitch was fired that night creating an opportunity for me to become the first Caucasian sampler at an Asian eatery in a mall food court? With my luck, monster.com will consider this the perfect match.
Reel Opinions on Movies
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Sunday, November 16, 2008
The Slowsky's Tie the Knot
That was easy.
A wild weekend on Long Island ended with Mix and Mel ruling the dance floor in front of family and friends. It was a great time, filled with booze, toasts, food, booze, Boston/NY rivalries, mansions, tow trucks, booze, pictures, more food, booze, party buses, music, dancing, and booze. The fun began Friday night with the rehearsal dinner. On the ride over Fred went into unexpected depth about the value of hors d'oeuvres and how he could eat them all night long. Following a pre-dinner hour of mingling and wine, we were treated to a stellar buffet and speeches from the crowd, highlighted by Cliff and the five senses. Finkel shouted miscellaneous "Mix" and "Turbo" chants throughout. Mix generously handed out Celtics and Pats jersey's to the groomsmen, but put a little too much faith in Da Beef fitting into a large. My Garnett tank is now officially a goal shirt. Our shirts drew some heckles from the restaurant patrons downstairs and the bouncers at the bar following dinner. I knew I was hammered when I felt a sudden need to obtain cigarettes, so TB and I wandered into a town we didn't know in search of a convenient store. On the shuttle back to the hotel, I passed out, awoken by miscellaneous figures poking my stomach. Back at the Marriot, I grabbed a Wall Street Journal for reasons I still haven't figured (I scanned it the next morning for about thirty seconds on the can), and fell on my bed. Two minutes later I realized I was hungry and attacked the Milky Way and Doritos that our hosts had put into our wedding grab bags. 500 calories later, it was time to crash. Big day ahead.
Around 9am TB woke me up, which I appreciated since my head felt like it’d been run over by a locomotive. After attacking the breakfast buffet I took a short nap, and then went to CVS for some cold medicine. With several people arriving at the hotel, it was time to get ready. I looked positively Clooney-esque in my tux and boutonniere, but was careful not to overshadow the groom. After a pre-game drink in the hotel lobby, the party bus arrived for the photo shoot, the inner roof-top of which was covered in neon blue. Cliff passed out Heinekens and Finkel wondered what would happen if we inserted a quarter into the mysterious 1-way window on the back wall. Presumably a light would turn on revealing a stripper. While best man Josh blasted music from the front, I concerned myself with the lack of shine on my shoes compared with the others, but was quickly distracted by Finkel playing the MEAD Staple's button in my ear. His fascination with the toy grew as he placed it near the ears of everyone within reach. With a little help from Ben-Ari, they changed the message from "That was Easy" to "That's what she said," which inexplicably never gets old.
Our eyes widened upon arriving at the mansion which reminded Nir and I of "Surviving the Game." I was reasonably sure that big game hunters inside were going to chase us out into the expansive woods that surrounded it. It turns out the mansion was owned by the wealthy Andrew Carnegie. Upon entering, male attention was diverted by the smoking young brunette overseeing our visit. Despite the inclement weather, we made it out on to the back patio for pictures with a tall drink of water whose word of choice was an enthusiastic “Yes” every time he snapped a shot. Nir's hair kept blowing in everyone's face, forcing those behind him to turn away. The couple of the hour looked disgustingly cute in their pictures. Not to sound too girly, but the Slowsky's truly may be the perfectly matched couple.
On our first picture break Finkel air humped a giant statue of a dog, which turned into one of the best pictures of the weekend. Back inside, he and I got the green light from little Miss Hottie to explore the upper floors of the mansion. The house was filled with stone heads, old pictures, and a ton of bedrooms, where Carnegie undoubtedly got down with his slaves. A huge stuffed dog sitting atop the upper staircase scared the living shit out us. This discovery inspired jealousy on the ground floor, particularly from Blinky who wanted desperately to see it, though security now prevented it. There was however, a sick tiger head enclosed on the first floor that Carnegie himself shot. Finkel and I soon got yelled at by an older woman at the mansion for opening doors we weren't supposed to. Ironically, she caught us right before we were about to check out a mysterious flight of stairs which must've lead to a parade of dead bodies. Sketchy.
As the pictures came to a close, a problem emerged. Our bus driver had parked the party bus in a grassy field rather than double-parking on the cement. Because of the rain and mud, the bus was now grounded in its tracks. Now only a couple hours before the wedding, it was getting dark and we were stuck. I got a call from the crew outside that they needed reinforcement to push the bus. The mother of the bride overheard the plan and seemed none-too pleased. I was terrified at the prospect of falling face first in the mud and ruining my tux. But out the rest of us went anyway to flex and brainstorm. The mansion workers got wooden boards when it became obvious our groomsman muscles weren't going to get the job done. Alan and Joel couldn't believe the predicament we were suddenly in and had to listen to a back-and-forth between the bus driver and mansion boss over who was to blame.
Meanwhile, Ben developed his own emergency when he lost a button off his tux. We all hunched over, our cell phones open facing the ground in an attempt to shine light on an object the size of a ladybug. Surely we looked like idiots. Eventually, a tow truck arrived with the authority of a transformer, which led to another great picture. Despite envisioning the bus bumper ripping the tow right off, it came through in the clutch and disaster was averted. Everyone got back on the bus, tired and hungry, but ready for action. I reluctantly cracked open a Mike's Hard Lemonade (which no other guy was willing to split with me) while the bus driver got us moving, though he came dangerously close to getting us stuck on the grass again.
Against all odds, we finally made it to the North Ritz Club. We rehearsed walking down the aisle with our partners, though the height order was perplexing. The shortest, Nir and Blink were back-to-back in the middle. BJ, who at one point was asked to be best man, was fourth. I became convinced that Mixer's primary agenda was to keep me at least three bodies away from Finkel, who would've undoubtedly had me laugh throughout the entire ceremony. The Rabbi leading the service was all business, warning the gum chewers and flustering the bride's sister when he called her out for chatting. We drank some champagne and watched the Meixner's (wow, first time I’ve used that) sign the Ketubah. Melissa Penn was the official witness. We next headed upstairs for pre-wedding drinks and snacks, and took turns recording our thoughts into the video camera. Nir was so rattled by the experience had to re-record his message with nobody watching. In a truly baffling decision, Turbo went for pasta with marinara sauce, holding a plate over her white dress, though friends were quick to cover her with every available napkin in Long Island. Finkel sat in a corner chair like Michael Corleone, surveying the room. Blinky inexplicably started bleeding through his shirt sleeve, and Big Al and Sandy stood smiling over everyone. I was starving by this point, but wisely steered away from the food for fear of farting during the ceremony.
The service itself was a great success, despite Nir pinching my ass every five minutes. And I still say we all should've run in to Van Halen’s "Right Now." Mix, it would've been the ultimate crowd pumper. The bride and groom's parents were collected and proud. The room was filled with friends and family who were privileged to witness the traditional Jewish glass breaking ceremony, as Mix promptly proceeded to miss the glass altogether. Cedar B's baby, Cedar B's. Seriously, could the Slowsky's look any cuter together?
Finally, it was party time, or food fiesta '09 as I quickly came to think of it. Upon entering with a girl on each arm and hair longer than either of them, Nir was mistaken for a woman. The spread was ridonkulous, with more appetizer options than I've ever seen at any event. The highlight was definitely the duck wraps, followed by fried calamari, thinly sliced lamb, and the ever-reliable mozzarella sticks. Also notable were the martini glasses filled with sweet potato and onion strings, which went straight to my thighs. We next moved into the main room. Mix and Mel brought the house down with their entrance, surpassed only by Josh's Chris Rock-like toast, featuring an amazing line about the Israel birthright program trip being beloved by Jews because it's free. It could've been offensive had 80% of the room not been Jewish, but the man knew his audience.
As I hit the dance floor, I couldn't help admiring Turgel, who smiled so wide you'd think he was witnessing the merger of music and movement for the first time. His joy was contagious. Fink and Jefe dominated the centers of dance circles, with the latter seemingly wanted to prove he could jump higher than any other white guy in the room. Meanwhile, I came dangerously close to shattering the wedding sweat record. Fortunately, there were several excursions outside to break the exercise struggle. However, I have to give props to Mix. I'm not sure he missed a single song all night. We had a brief scare when during our "That 70s Show" trip outside, strangers approached us from the darkness, creating anxiety. But it just turned out to be the bride's cousin, who was enjoying his own "Harold and Kumar" break with his wife. He quickly joined our happy circle. On a later fieldtrip, Finkel came through huge with cigars, and we got some great group shots.
For dinner, Da Beef ordered da beef (ba dum ch), a wise decision if ever there was one. It was ridiculously tender. Back on the dance floor, I had to un-tuck my soaking shirt, which must've been spraying everyone as we rocked out to Journey's "Don't Stop Believing." I'm pretty sure I got the girl standing behind me. Sorry Ada. Other highlights included "Sweet Caroline," "Footloose," and the surprisingly poignant Shania Twain hit "Forever And For Always," the Slowsky's wedding song. Random observation of the night: The hottest mom from our high school years is undoubtedly STILL the hottest mom today. It defies all logic.
As the Turbo-Noses (that’s mine) cut their wedding cake, Mix pulled an unexpected sneak-attack frosting smash, blasting Mel in the face. Well-done sir. She reciprocated, while I wondered to myself why they'd waste so much quality frosting. After the last dance, friends mingled and smiled several exhibiting difficulty standing. As we boarded the shuttle bus back to the Marriot, the driver disappeared, prompting Brad to generously offer his driving services. It’s the thought that counts.
All things considered, the weekend was a huge success. The next morning I was hurting, and searched for Advil, though a shower, coffee, and loaded omelet soon cured me. Nir, Jennie, TB, and I surveyed the dining room looking for free-loaders trying to sneak a free breakfast. The host kept security tight, though the miscellaneous black couple in the corner seemed suspicious. I don't recall seeing them at the wedding. With reports of snow in Pennsylvania, we hit the road ASAP, breaking the 8 hour drive only for gas and snacks. That night on the couch, I excitedly started playing with the MEAD's button. It took about five seconds before I accidentally erased Mel's "That was Easy,” much to TB’s displeasure. As punishment, whenever the button is pushed it now announces
"Zach Sucks!"
Mazel Tov Mix and Mel. Tear it up in Hawaii. You deserve it.
A wild weekend on Long Island ended with Mix and Mel ruling the dance floor in front of family and friends. It was a great time, filled with booze, toasts, food, booze, Boston/NY rivalries, mansions, tow trucks, booze, pictures, more food, booze, party buses, music, dancing, and booze. The fun began Friday night with the rehearsal dinner. On the ride over Fred went into unexpected depth about the value of hors d'oeuvres and how he could eat them all night long. Following a pre-dinner hour of mingling and wine, we were treated to a stellar buffet and speeches from the crowd, highlighted by Cliff and the five senses. Finkel shouted miscellaneous "Mix" and "Turbo" chants throughout. Mix generously handed out Celtics and Pats jersey's to the groomsmen, but put a little too much faith in Da Beef fitting into a large. My Garnett tank is now officially a goal shirt. Our shirts drew some heckles from the restaurant patrons downstairs and the bouncers at the bar following dinner. I knew I was hammered when I felt a sudden need to obtain cigarettes, so TB and I wandered into a town we didn't know in search of a convenient store. On the shuttle back to the hotel, I passed out, awoken by miscellaneous figures poking my stomach. Back at the Marriot, I grabbed a Wall Street Journal for reasons I still haven't figured (I scanned it the next morning for about thirty seconds on the can), and fell on my bed. Two minutes later I realized I was hungry and attacked the Milky Way and Doritos that our hosts had put into our wedding grab bags. 500 calories later, it was time to crash. Big day ahead.
Around 9am TB woke me up, which I appreciated since my head felt like it’d been run over by a locomotive. After attacking the breakfast buffet I took a short nap, and then went to CVS for some cold medicine. With several people arriving at the hotel, it was time to get ready. I looked positively Clooney-esque in my tux and boutonniere, but was careful not to overshadow the groom. After a pre-game drink in the hotel lobby, the party bus arrived for the photo shoot, the inner roof-top of which was covered in neon blue. Cliff passed out Heinekens and Finkel wondered what would happen if we inserted a quarter into the mysterious 1-way window on the back wall. Presumably a light would turn on revealing a stripper. While best man Josh blasted music from the front, I concerned myself with the lack of shine on my shoes compared with the others, but was quickly distracted by Finkel playing the MEAD Staple's button in my ear. His fascination with the toy grew as he placed it near the ears of everyone within reach. With a little help from Ben-Ari, they changed the message from "That was Easy" to "That's what she said," which inexplicably never gets old.
Our eyes widened upon arriving at the mansion which reminded Nir and I of "Surviving the Game." I was reasonably sure that big game hunters inside were going to chase us out into the expansive woods that surrounded it. It turns out the mansion was owned by the wealthy Andrew Carnegie. Upon entering, male attention was diverted by the smoking young brunette overseeing our visit. Despite the inclement weather, we made it out on to the back patio for pictures with a tall drink of water whose word of choice was an enthusiastic “Yes” every time he snapped a shot. Nir's hair kept blowing in everyone's face, forcing those behind him to turn away. The couple of the hour looked disgustingly cute in their pictures. Not to sound too girly, but the Slowsky's truly may be the perfectly matched couple.
On our first picture break Finkel air humped a giant statue of a dog, which turned into one of the best pictures of the weekend. Back inside, he and I got the green light from little Miss Hottie to explore the upper floors of the mansion. The house was filled with stone heads, old pictures, and a ton of bedrooms, where Carnegie undoubtedly got down with his slaves. A huge stuffed dog sitting atop the upper staircase scared the living shit out us. This discovery inspired jealousy on the ground floor, particularly from Blinky who wanted desperately to see it, though security now prevented it. There was however, a sick tiger head enclosed on the first floor that Carnegie himself shot. Finkel and I soon got yelled at by an older woman at the mansion for opening doors we weren't supposed to. Ironically, she caught us right before we were about to check out a mysterious flight of stairs which must've lead to a parade of dead bodies. Sketchy.
As the pictures came to a close, a problem emerged. Our bus driver had parked the party bus in a grassy field rather than double-parking on the cement. Because of the rain and mud, the bus was now grounded in its tracks. Now only a couple hours before the wedding, it was getting dark and we were stuck. I got a call from the crew outside that they needed reinforcement to push the bus. The mother of the bride overheard the plan and seemed none-too pleased. I was terrified at the prospect of falling face first in the mud and ruining my tux. But out the rest of us went anyway to flex and brainstorm. The mansion workers got wooden boards when it became obvious our groomsman muscles weren't going to get the job done. Alan and Joel couldn't believe the predicament we were suddenly in and had to listen to a back-and-forth between the bus driver and mansion boss over who was to blame.
Meanwhile, Ben developed his own emergency when he lost a button off his tux. We all hunched over, our cell phones open facing the ground in an attempt to shine light on an object the size of a ladybug. Surely we looked like idiots. Eventually, a tow truck arrived with the authority of a transformer, which led to another great picture. Despite envisioning the bus bumper ripping the tow right off, it came through in the clutch and disaster was averted. Everyone got back on the bus, tired and hungry, but ready for action. I reluctantly cracked open a Mike's Hard Lemonade (which no other guy was willing to split with me) while the bus driver got us moving, though he came dangerously close to getting us stuck on the grass again.
Against all odds, we finally made it to the North Ritz Club. We rehearsed walking down the aisle with our partners, though the height order was perplexing. The shortest, Nir and Blink were back-to-back in the middle. BJ, who at one point was asked to be best man, was fourth. I became convinced that Mixer's primary agenda was to keep me at least three bodies away from Finkel, who would've undoubtedly had me laugh throughout the entire ceremony. The Rabbi leading the service was all business, warning the gum chewers and flustering the bride's sister when he called her out for chatting. We drank some champagne and watched the Meixner's (wow, first time I’ve used that) sign the Ketubah. Melissa Penn was the official witness. We next headed upstairs for pre-wedding drinks and snacks, and took turns recording our thoughts into the video camera. Nir was so rattled by the experience had to re-record his message with nobody watching. In a truly baffling decision, Turbo went for pasta with marinara sauce, holding a plate over her white dress, though friends were quick to cover her with every available napkin in Long Island. Finkel sat in a corner chair like Michael Corleone, surveying the room. Blinky inexplicably started bleeding through his shirt sleeve, and Big Al and Sandy stood smiling over everyone. I was starving by this point, but wisely steered away from the food for fear of farting during the ceremony.
The service itself was a great success, despite Nir pinching my ass every five minutes. And I still say we all should've run in to Van Halen’s "Right Now." Mix, it would've been the ultimate crowd pumper. The bride and groom's parents were collected and proud. The room was filled with friends and family who were privileged to witness the traditional Jewish glass breaking ceremony, as Mix promptly proceeded to miss the glass altogether. Cedar B's baby, Cedar B's. Seriously, could the Slowsky's look any cuter together?
Finally, it was party time, or food fiesta '09 as I quickly came to think of it. Upon entering with a girl on each arm and hair longer than either of them, Nir was mistaken for a woman. The spread was ridonkulous, with more appetizer options than I've ever seen at any event. The highlight was definitely the duck wraps, followed by fried calamari, thinly sliced lamb, and the ever-reliable mozzarella sticks. Also notable were the martini glasses filled with sweet potato and onion strings, which went straight to my thighs. We next moved into the main room. Mix and Mel brought the house down with their entrance, surpassed only by Josh's Chris Rock-like toast, featuring an amazing line about the Israel birthright program trip being beloved by Jews because it's free. It could've been offensive had 80% of the room not been Jewish, but the man knew his audience.
As I hit the dance floor, I couldn't help admiring Turgel, who smiled so wide you'd think he was witnessing the merger of music and movement for the first time. His joy was contagious. Fink and Jefe dominated the centers of dance circles, with the latter seemingly wanted to prove he could jump higher than any other white guy in the room. Meanwhile, I came dangerously close to shattering the wedding sweat record. Fortunately, there were several excursions outside to break the exercise struggle. However, I have to give props to Mix. I'm not sure he missed a single song all night. We had a brief scare when during our "That 70s Show" trip outside, strangers approached us from the darkness, creating anxiety. But it just turned out to be the bride's cousin, who was enjoying his own "Harold and Kumar" break with his wife. He quickly joined our happy circle. On a later fieldtrip, Finkel came through huge with cigars, and we got some great group shots.
For dinner, Da Beef ordered da beef (ba dum ch), a wise decision if ever there was one. It was ridiculously tender. Back on the dance floor, I had to un-tuck my soaking shirt, which must've been spraying everyone as we rocked out to Journey's "Don't Stop Believing." I'm pretty sure I got the girl standing behind me. Sorry Ada. Other highlights included "Sweet Caroline," "Footloose," and the surprisingly poignant Shania Twain hit "Forever And For Always," the Slowsky's wedding song. Random observation of the night: The hottest mom from our high school years is undoubtedly STILL the hottest mom today. It defies all logic.
As the Turbo-Noses (that’s mine) cut their wedding cake, Mix pulled an unexpected sneak-attack frosting smash, blasting Mel in the face. Well-done sir. She reciprocated, while I wondered to myself why they'd waste so much quality frosting. After the last dance, friends mingled and smiled several exhibiting difficulty standing. As we boarded the shuttle bus back to the Marriot, the driver disappeared, prompting Brad to generously offer his driving services. It’s the thought that counts.
All things considered, the weekend was a huge success. The next morning I was hurting, and searched for Advil, though a shower, coffee, and loaded omelet soon cured me. Nir, Jennie, TB, and I surveyed the dining room looking for free-loaders trying to sneak a free breakfast. The host kept security tight, though the miscellaneous black couple in the corner seemed suspicious. I don't recall seeing them at the wedding. With reports of snow in Pennsylvania, we hit the road ASAP, breaking the 8 hour drive only for gas and snacks. That night on the couch, I excitedly started playing with the MEAD's button. It took about five seconds before I accidentally erased Mel's "That was Easy,” much to TB’s displeasure. As punishment, whenever the button is pushed it now announces
"Zach Sucks!"
Mazel Tov Mix and Mel. Tear it up in Hawaii. You deserve it.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Obama's Getting Laid Tonight
"Human sacrafice. Dogs and cats living together. Mass hysteria!"
- Peter Venkman, "Ghostbusters"
I officially declare the oreo our national cookie. Athletes will now be required to thank Jesus after every touchdown. Also from here on out, you will order your morning coffee "Barack." On this day in history good is bad, up is down, and quite literally white is black. And I'm all for that. Change is what America wanted and that's what it got. November 4th, 2008 will probably be remembered as the single most liberal day of most of our lifetimes. While I'm not gonna get teary-eyed about a color barrier being broken, I certainly understand the significance to those who might. I'd applaud and dance like a lunatic too if Mel Brooks was elected President. As I type I just realized that was an awful analogy, but he's the first Jew that popped into my head for some reason.
Moments like tonight allow my immaturity to shine brightest, so until "Family Guy" creates the ultimate riff on all that's transpired, you're stuck with me. Depending on your personal sense of humor, the following will either make you laugh, cringe, or stare at your monitor in disbelief wondering how anyone could sound so stupid. All night I've been walking around shouting, "Barack Obama motha-fucka," immitating the brilliant J.B. Smoove, who played Leon during season six of "Curb Your Enthusiasm." Upon breaking from that impersonation, I've pretended to be Osama Bin Laden calling for high fives (in an incomprehensible "Borat" voice) from my compatriots at the 7/11. Can't you just picture Obama making his first call as President to Bin Laden, laughing in amazement, "I can't believe that worked." I know, I know, none of this should be funny. But in the crazy world we live in, humor acts as my defense mechanism, triggered by serious events involving anything truly important. I had to laugh at myself for realizing around 11pm that I actually had no idea what Joe Biden looked like. I'm not kidding. I had to search him on google images and with God as my witness, I've never seen that guy before. If I bumped into him in Central Park, I'd assume he wanted to sit down and play chess.
Ironically, it took a voting beat down to humanize John McCain in a way I hadn't seen throughout the campaign. He actually sounded humble in defeat. If he'd softened his image like this about two months ago we might've had a real race. But the prospect of having another leader with many similar policies to President Bush effectively killed his chances, as did picking Sara Palin as his running mate. Throw in his 2,748 scowls (I counted), his ridiculous age, an awful comb-over, far too many jokes about mavericks, his negative ad onslaught, and a stiff presence that failed to convince the public he could have a civil conversation with a fellow human being, and his demise was inevitable.
But Obama is the man of the hour. He's young, hip, intelligent, and above all, charasmatic. Kind of sounds like another promising President-elect from the early
60s, no? I'll be rooting for him and I'll be rooting for America. Of course, tonight everyone's saying all the right things. They hope we can all come together. They want Republicans who voted for McCain to support Obama. They even played the theme from "Remember the Titans" over the loudspeakers as Obama took the stage. Very subtle. For anyone who forgets, "Titans" was the story of an African-American high school coach who took over the previously segregated football program at T.C. Williams in 1971 Virginia. There he demanded his players (white and black) eat and room together in hopes that they'd gell as a team. They eventually won the state title.
Although that's an abbreviated description of the story, the themes of acceptance and racial harmony have arguably deeper implications in 2008, given Obama is now leader of the free world. And while the results of the previous two elections were nowhere near as historic as tonights', I wonder if they set a precedent for how his detractors will react. In both 2000 and 2004, President Bush similarly asked the entire nation to throw it's support his way after a very divisive election. For what it's worth, millions never did (myself included), although the past eight years have certainly shown us to be all the wiser for it.
But maybe this time will be different. A huge wall has been kicked down tonight, not only with Obama's induction, but in Massachusetts where potheads won a huge victory. In a shockingly lopsided vote, possession of marajuana (under an ounce) was decriminalized, now punishable only by a small fine. This initiative made so much sense I was worried it wouldn't pass, much like the failed Ohio casino initiative, the only blemish on an otherwise liberating evening (actually that and the ridiculous bans on gay marriage in CA, AZ, & FL, but that's a whole separate article). Casino gambling is still available two hours away in West Virginia, but it's the principle of the matter. At least Massachusetts has taken a major step forward. No longer will college students and swinging dads have to worry about using the worlds most easily attainable drug for fear of being taken into custody. Weed is less harmful than alcohol by any reasonable measure. It doesn't cause screaming, violence, or wreckless driving. If anything it discourages users from leaving the couch, unless they're attacking their own refrigerator.
I admit, marajuana has been known to kill a few brain cells, but so does stress, booze, loud music, and television. And to those who still consider it a "gateway" drug, get over yourselves. Sure, it's usually the first one people try, but that's because it's the cheapest, the easiest to find, and the least harmful. Hell, you could even argue it promotes social bonding amongst strangers. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Obama is sitting back in a leather recliner in his living room, sparking one final doobie before making the move to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
After all, Election Day 2008 knows no limits.
- Peter Venkman, "Ghostbusters"
I officially declare the oreo our national cookie. Athletes will now be required to thank Jesus after every touchdown. Also from here on out, you will order your morning coffee "Barack." On this day in history good is bad, up is down, and quite literally white is black. And I'm all for that. Change is what America wanted and that's what it got. November 4th, 2008 will probably be remembered as the single most liberal day of most of our lifetimes. While I'm not gonna get teary-eyed about a color barrier being broken, I certainly understand the significance to those who might. I'd applaud and dance like a lunatic too if Mel Brooks was elected President. As I type I just realized that was an awful analogy, but he's the first Jew that popped into my head for some reason.
Moments like tonight allow my immaturity to shine brightest, so until "Family Guy" creates the ultimate riff on all that's transpired, you're stuck with me. Depending on your personal sense of humor, the following will either make you laugh, cringe, or stare at your monitor in disbelief wondering how anyone could sound so stupid. All night I've been walking around shouting, "Barack Obama motha-fucka," immitating the brilliant J.B. Smoove, who played Leon during season six of "Curb Your Enthusiasm." Upon breaking from that impersonation, I've pretended to be Osama Bin Laden calling for high fives (in an incomprehensible "Borat" voice) from my compatriots at the 7/11. Can't you just picture Obama making his first call as President to Bin Laden, laughing in amazement, "I can't believe that worked." I know, I know, none of this should be funny. But in the crazy world we live in, humor acts as my defense mechanism, triggered by serious events involving anything truly important. I had to laugh at myself for realizing around 11pm that I actually had no idea what Joe Biden looked like. I'm not kidding. I had to search him on google images and with God as my witness, I've never seen that guy before. If I bumped into him in Central Park, I'd assume he wanted to sit down and play chess.
Ironically, it took a voting beat down to humanize John McCain in a way I hadn't seen throughout the campaign. He actually sounded humble in defeat. If he'd softened his image like this about two months ago we might've had a real race. But the prospect of having another leader with many similar policies to President Bush effectively killed his chances, as did picking Sara Palin as his running mate. Throw in his 2,748 scowls (I counted), his ridiculous age, an awful comb-over, far too many jokes about mavericks, his negative ad onslaught, and a stiff presence that failed to convince the public he could have a civil conversation with a fellow human being, and his demise was inevitable.
But Obama is the man of the hour. He's young, hip, intelligent, and above all, charasmatic. Kind of sounds like another promising President-elect from the early
60s, no? I'll be rooting for him and I'll be rooting for America. Of course, tonight everyone's saying all the right things. They hope we can all come together. They want Republicans who voted for McCain to support Obama. They even played the theme from "Remember the Titans" over the loudspeakers as Obama took the stage. Very subtle. For anyone who forgets, "Titans" was the story of an African-American high school coach who took over the previously segregated football program at T.C. Williams in 1971 Virginia. There he demanded his players (white and black) eat and room together in hopes that they'd gell as a team. They eventually won the state title.
Although that's an abbreviated description of the story, the themes of acceptance and racial harmony have arguably deeper implications in 2008, given Obama is now leader of the free world. And while the results of the previous two elections were nowhere near as historic as tonights', I wonder if they set a precedent for how his detractors will react. In both 2000 and 2004, President Bush similarly asked the entire nation to throw it's support his way after a very divisive election. For what it's worth, millions never did (myself included), although the past eight years have certainly shown us to be all the wiser for it.
But maybe this time will be different. A huge wall has been kicked down tonight, not only with Obama's induction, but in Massachusetts where potheads won a huge victory. In a shockingly lopsided vote, possession of marajuana (under an ounce) was decriminalized, now punishable only by a small fine. This initiative made so much sense I was worried it wouldn't pass, much like the failed Ohio casino initiative, the only blemish on an otherwise liberating evening (actually that and the ridiculous bans on gay marriage in CA, AZ, & FL, but that's a whole separate article). Casino gambling is still available two hours away in West Virginia, but it's the principle of the matter. At least Massachusetts has taken a major step forward. No longer will college students and swinging dads have to worry about using the worlds most easily attainable drug for fear of being taken into custody. Weed is less harmful than alcohol by any reasonable measure. It doesn't cause screaming, violence, or wreckless driving. If anything it discourages users from leaving the couch, unless they're attacking their own refrigerator.
I admit, marajuana has been known to kill a few brain cells, but so does stress, booze, loud music, and television. And to those who still consider it a "gateway" drug, get over yourselves. Sure, it's usually the first one people try, but that's because it's the cheapest, the easiest to find, and the least harmful. Hell, you could even argue it promotes social bonding amongst strangers. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Obama is sitting back in a leather recliner in his living room, sparking one final doobie before making the move to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
After all, Election Day 2008 knows no limits.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
NBA 2009 Predictions
I cried last night and it's all Paul Pierce's fault. My struggles as a Celtic's fan through the years have been well documented. I've been loyal and patient and had no doubt watching last night's opening ceremonies would prove a poignant experience. Even seeing the anonymous assistant coaches and trainers get their rings brought a proud smile to my face. They called Doc and the role players, followed by Ray and KG. I applauded as if they were my kids and had just been accepted into the Ivy League. Still, I had no intention of losing my manhood until the camera captured Pierce, who was overwhelmed by the moment. I figured if Pierce was gonna cry that gave me the green light. With Jerry Goldsmith's booming "Air Force One" score playing in the background (am I a dork for knowing that?), they raised banner 17 to the hallowed rafters.
I must've made a dozen phone calls to friends and family during that five-minute span, though I'm convinced you must be at least twenty to fully appreciate what it means for your home team to win a championship. I realized this when my youngest brother, so fortunate to attend the game, texted me to ask if I thought goofy announcer Willie May was secretly banging all the celtic dancers. In all fairness, he later raised a valid question in wondering why a championship team couldn't find a suitable replacement for Lucky, the most irritating mascot on the planet. Anyway, everything was going beautifully for me until I discovered Reggie 'nut-sack' Miller was part of the TNT crew calling the game. My teeth clenched when I heard his voice, and that was before he called out Pierce for having had a "Notebook" moment, referring to the sappy, chick-flick. If I were there in person I would've strangled him and watched his girly legs flop as he gasped for air. How can someone so insignificant stir such a violent reaction from me three years after his retirement? It's a good psychology question. I'll just have to find appeasement in knowing that overrated fuck-stick never won anything and as such has no idea what he's talking about (I'll be right back. I need to down a shot and do 20 jumping jacks . . . SERENITY NOW . . . Ok, I feel better).
The good news is that Boston could very well find itself in the same position in 2009And while it won't be easy, I'm not sure it will be as difficult as many prognosticators say. Last night was a good first test, and the game went about as expected. It was close the whole way, the third quarter defense being the difference for the C's. Boston also had enough contributions off the bench to compensate for poor offensive games by Garnett and Allen. As usual, Lebron James didn't have that luxury. Yes, Cleveland added scoring point guard Mo Williams in the offseason, but they should've been far more proactive. The fact is if you combined the two rosters into a single starting line-up, James would be the only Cleveland representative. And on nights when he doesn't have his "A" game (last night Pierce outplayed him), it's gonna be really tough for the Cavs to beat anyone good. Fortunately for them, Lebron only has about five poor games a year. Cleveland gave Boston a harder time than any other playoff opponent last spring. Barring injuries, one them will reach the NBA finals in 2009.
Orlando isn't ready. Neither is Philly, Atlanta, or Chicago, despite top draft pick Derrick Rose. Miami's success will depend on Dwayne Wade's health and Michael Beasley's transition from the college game. They could contend and they could miss the playoffs. Washington doesn't have enough to overcome another injury to Gibert Arenas. Detroit probably has one playoff push left, but more than any other team in the East, they needed to retool. They should've tried to get something for Rasheed Wallace while they could. The one legitimate spoiler could be Toronto, who throws out the scariest frontline in the conference with the addition of Jermaine O'Neal. But they'll be tougher in 2010, with Chris Bosh, Jose Calderon, and an improving Andrea Bargnani.
Out west, not all that much has changed either. The Lakers are still the favorite, with New Orleans closing. San Antonio, Phoenix and Utah are the only other teams with real title hopes. I'm not buying into the media frenzy surrounding Houston. They had an impressive 22-game winning streak last season (broken by the Celtics, thank you), but I question whether this team will ever gel. Yao Ming seems destined to be a very good center, but not the hall-of-fame franchise changer many predicted. And T-Mac gets hurt once a week. The Artest addition is intriguing, but neither McGrady or Yao is tough enough to keep him in-line. The only place he could've been kept in check would've been San Antonio. That move could've made the Spurs dominant again, but I don't blame them for passing. Dallas will once again be good enough to beat anybody on a given night, but fall short in a seven-game series. Denver's always exciting, but losing Marcus Camby to the Clippers weakened an already poor defense. Had Brand not bolted to the east L.A.'s second team could've been impressive, but an inevitable Baron Davis injury will ultimately keep them out of the playoffs. The only other team of note is Portland, who is already without Greg Oden for the next month. They have the best young nucleus in the league, but if the big guy can't play ten minutes without pulling a hammy, they might be wise to trade him now.
Here are some other predictions for the 2009 season, including award winners (runners-up in parentheses)
Most Valuable Player - Lebron James, Cleveland: Last season he submitted the best fourth place finish of my lifetime (30 points, 7 assists, nearly 8 rebounds & 2 steals a night). He's a freak of nature and he's only getting better. In last night's opener he caught an ally-oop in the paint, contorted his body in a manner that defied physics, and finished a play most players wouldn't have attempted. For years I've been saying Kobe Bryant is the best player in the world, but the torch has finally been passed. In last year's finals Boston was able to neutralize Bryant. Nobody has yet figured out how to defend James.
(Chris Paul, New Orleans)
Coach of the Year - Jerry Sloan, Utah: I have a hunch this will finally be the year for the veteran coach, in his 20th season with the Jazz. The award usually goes to a coach who's never won it before. The only possible repeat in 2009 might be Mike D'Antoni, assumming the Knicks make the playoffs, which is a long shot. Sloan has quietly kept Utah competitive for the better part of two decades, avoiding a long rebuilding effort after losing John Stockton and Karl Malone to retirement. New players buy into his system and while not flashy, they win. If Utah can finish third in the west, this is Sloan's to lose.
(Phil Jackson, L.A.L.)
Defensive Player of the Year - Kevin Garnett, Boston
(Marcus Camby, L.A.C.)
Rookie of the Year - Michael Beasley, Miami
(Derrick Rose, Chicago)
Most Improved Player - Yi Jianlian, New Jersey
(Al Horford, Atlanta)
Sixth Man of the Year - James Posey, New Orleans;
(Shane Battier, Houston)
All-NBA Teams
1st
G Chris Paul, N.O.
G Kobe Bryant, L.A.L.
C Dwight Howard, Orl
F Lebron James, Cle
F Kevin Garnett, Bos
2nd
G Steve Nash, Pho
G Dwayne Wade, Mia
C Amare Stoudemire, Pho
F Paul Pierce, Bos
F Carlos Boozer, Uta
3rd
G Deron Williams, Uta
G Allen Iverson, Den
C Tim Duncan, San
F Chris Bosh, Tor
F Dirk Nowitzki, Dal
Playoffs (Division Winners Must Get Top 3 Seeds)
Eastern Conference
Boston
Cleveland
Orlando
Detroit
Toronto
Atlanta
Miami
Philadelphia
Western Conference
Los Angeles (Lakers)
New Orleans
Utah
Phoenix
San Antonio
Dallas
Houston
Portland
Conference Finals
Boston over Cleveland (4-2)
New Orleans over Los Angeles (4-3)
Finals
Boston over New Orleans (4-2) *
MVP: Kevin Garnett
* If L.A. beats N.O., they will go on to defeat Boston in 7. I suspect they'd win a rematch with a better game plan and a healthy Andrew Bynum. But that's assumming they have enough left in the tank after battling N.O. and the winner of San Antonio/Phoenix, either of whom could be good enough to challenge L.A.
So there you have it. Yes, I'm slightly biased toward my home team. But at the same time, I just don't see anyone else knocking them off this year. The only teams within striking distance who've made significant changes play in the west. Look for the Celtics to seize another opportunity in what is realistically a three year window. Hopefully when they're receiving their second championship rings, Reggie will be long gone, having been eaten by a hungry Charles Barkley who mistook his oval-shaped head for a giant avocado.
I must've made a dozen phone calls to friends and family during that five-minute span, though I'm convinced you must be at least twenty to fully appreciate what it means for your home team to win a championship. I realized this when my youngest brother, so fortunate to attend the game, texted me to ask if I thought goofy announcer Willie May was secretly banging all the celtic dancers. In all fairness, he later raised a valid question in wondering why a championship team couldn't find a suitable replacement for Lucky, the most irritating mascot on the planet. Anyway, everything was going beautifully for me until I discovered Reggie 'nut-sack' Miller was part of the TNT crew calling the game. My teeth clenched when I heard his voice, and that was before he called out Pierce for having had a "Notebook" moment, referring to the sappy, chick-flick. If I were there in person I would've strangled him and watched his girly legs flop as he gasped for air. How can someone so insignificant stir such a violent reaction from me three years after his retirement? It's a good psychology question. I'll just have to find appeasement in knowing that overrated fuck-stick never won anything and as such has no idea what he's talking about (I'll be right back. I need to down a shot and do 20 jumping jacks . . . SERENITY NOW . . . Ok, I feel better).
The good news is that Boston could very well find itself in the same position in 2009And while it won't be easy, I'm not sure it will be as difficult as many prognosticators say. Last night was a good first test, and the game went about as expected. It was close the whole way, the third quarter defense being the difference for the C's. Boston also had enough contributions off the bench to compensate for poor offensive games by Garnett and Allen. As usual, Lebron James didn't have that luxury. Yes, Cleveland added scoring point guard Mo Williams in the offseason, but they should've been far more proactive. The fact is if you combined the two rosters into a single starting line-up, James would be the only Cleveland representative. And on nights when he doesn't have his "A" game (last night Pierce outplayed him), it's gonna be really tough for the Cavs to beat anyone good. Fortunately for them, Lebron only has about five poor games a year. Cleveland gave Boston a harder time than any other playoff opponent last spring. Barring injuries, one them will reach the NBA finals in 2009.
Orlando isn't ready. Neither is Philly, Atlanta, or Chicago, despite top draft pick Derrick Rose. Miami's success will depend on Dwayne Wade's health and Michael Beasley's transition from the college game. They could contend and they could miss the playoffs. Washington doesn't have enough to overcome another injury to Gibert Arenas. Detroit probably has one playoff push left, but more than any other team in the East, they needed to retool. They should've tried to get something for Rasheed Wallace while they could. The one legitimate spoiler could be Toronto, who throws out the scariest frontline in the conference with the addition of Jermaine O'Neal. But they'll be tougher in 2010, with Chris Bosh, Jose Calderon, and an improving Andrea Bargnani.
Out west, not all that much has changed either. The Lakers are still the favorite, with New Orleans closing. San Antonio, Phoenix and Utah are the only other teams with real title hopes. I'm not buying into the media frenzy surrounding Houston. They had an impressive 22-game winning streak last season (broken by the Celtics, thank you), but I question whether this team will ever gel. Yao Ming seems destined to be a very good center, but not the hall-of-fame franchise changer many predicted. And T-Mac gets hurt once a week. The Artest addition is intriguing, but neither McGrady or Yao is tough enough to keep him in-line. The only place he could've been kept in check would've been San Antonio. That move could've made the Spurs dominant again, but I don't blame them for passing. Dallas will once again be good enough to beat anybody on a given night, but fall short in a seven-game series. Denver's always exciting, but losing Marcus Camby to the Clippers weakened an already poor defense. Had Brand not bolted to the east L.A.'s second team could've been impressive, but an inevitable Baron Davis injury will ultimately keep them out of the playoffs. The only other team of note is Portland, who is already without Greg Oden for the next month. They have the best young nucleus in the league, but if the big guy can't play ten minutes without pulling a hammy, they might be wise to trade him now.
Here are some other predictions for the 2009 season, including award winners (runners-up in parentheses)
Most Valuable Player - Lebron James, Cleveland: Last season he submitted the best fourth place finish of my lifetime (30 points, 7 assists, nearly 8 rebounds & 2 steals a night). He's a freak of nature and he's only getting better. In last night's opener he caught an ally-oop in the paint, contorted his body in a manner that defied physics, and finished a play most players wouldn't have attempted. For years I've been saying Kobe Bryant is the best player in the world, but the torch has finally been passed. In last year's finals Boston was able to neutralize Bryant. Nobody has yet figured out how to defend James.
(Chris Paul, New Orleans)
Coach of the Year - Jerry Sloan, Utah: I have a hunch this will finally be the year for the veteran coach, in his 20th season with the Jazz. The award usually goes to a coach who's never won it before. The only possible repeat in 2009 might be Mike D'Antoni, assumming the Knicks make the playoffs, which is a long shot. Sloan has quietly kept Utah competitive for the better part of two decades, avoiding a long rebuilding effort after losing John Stockton and Karl Malone to retirement. New players buy into his system and while not flashy, they win. If Utah can finish third in the west, this is Sloan's to lose.
(Phil Jackson, L.A.L.)
Defensive Player of the Year - Kevin Garnett, Boston
(Marcus Camby, L.A.C.)
Rookie of the Year - Michael Beasley, Miami
(Derrick Rose, Chicago)
Most Improved Player - Yi Jianlian, New Jersey
(Al Horford, Atlanta)
Sixth Man of the Year - James Posey, New Orleans;
(Shane Battier, Houston)
All-NBA Teams
1st
G Chris Paul, N.O.
G Kobe Bryant, L.A.L.
C Dwight Howard, Orl
F Lebron James, Cle
F Kevin Garnett, Bos
2nd
G Steve Nash, Pho
G Dwayne Wade, Mia
C Amare Stoudemire, Pho
F Paul Pierce, Bos
F Carlos Boozer, Uta
3rd
G Deron Williams, Uta
G Allen Iverson, Den
C Tim Duncan, San
F Chris Bosh, Tor
F Dirk Nowitzki, Dal
Playoffs (Division Winners Must Get Top 3 Seeds)
Eastern Conference
Boston
Cleveland
Orlando
Detroit
Toronto
Atlanta
Miami
Philadelphia
Western Conference
Los Angeles (Lakers)
New Orleans
Utah
Phoenix
San Antonio
Dallas
Houston
Portland
Conference Finals
Boston over Cleveland (4-2)
New Orleans over Los Angeles (4-3)
Finals
Boston over New Orleans (4-2) *
MVP: Kevin Garnett
* If L.A. beats N.O., they will go on to defeat Boston in 7. I suspect they'd win a rematch with a better game plan and a healthy Andrew Bynum. But that's assumming they have enough left in the tank after battling N.O. and the winner of San Antonio/Phoenix, either of whom could be good enough to challenge L.A.
So there you have it. Yes, I'm slightly biased toward my home team. But at the same time, I just don't see anyone else knocking them off this year. The only teams within striking distance who've made significant changes play in the west. Look for the Celtics to seize another opportunity in what is realistically a three year window. Hopefully when they're receiving their second championship rings, Reggie will be long gone, having been eaten by a hungry Charles Barkley who mistook his oval-shaped head for a giant avocado.
Monday, October 27, 2008
One Final Week of Political Nonsense
The presedential election is only a week away and frankly, I can't wait for the madness to end. Maybe I've faced a stronger media onslaught in Ohio, a battleground state that has made early voting available to the public because in reality, we're among the few who matter. The voting is largely inconsequential in California, Texas, and dozens of other states where the results were decided long before the campaigns even began. But I'm sick of all the negativity, especially from McCain, who I now fondly refer to as Captain Mega-douche. His ratio of Obama-bashing remarks to self-promoting positive ideas, both in debates and in his advertisements, has been embarassing. His only legit shot at winning now rests in the hands of 21-year-old males who find Sara Palin hot in the MILF sense. Maybe that was his strategy all along. As for Palin, I get the impression she thinks she's a finalist on some sort of new age reality show. She's attractive, she does a lot of crowd waving, and she displayed some impressive shoulder moves at SNL's weekend update desk, but has she made a single, worthwhile remark since becoming McCain's running mate?
Arguably the dumbest McCain ad shows an empty oval office, followed by a voice-over claiming that Obama has never faced a crisis in the executive chair. Ummm, maybe I'm hallucinating, but I'm pretty sure McCain has never been in that position either. His funniest ads involve pork taxes. Apparently rich folks don't want to pay for poor people's bacon, and I think that's just selfish. Come to think of it, if Obama is elected will they change the name of the White House to the Black House? (Bu-dum-ching). On a more serious note though, I'm really scared for Obama should he get elected. I'd like to think the two morons recently arrested for threatening to kill Obama voters were the only two out there. Unfortunately, even in 2008 there is senseless hatred and bigotry and I'd be shocked if there weren't similar incidents in the future.
One local ad has actually pissed me off far more than anything involving the presidential campaigns. At least ten times a day, I am subjected to ads endorsing a "no" vote on issue six, regarding bringing a fully operational casino to Ohio. The message behind it warns viewers that the potential owner and operator failed to pay casino taxes in his previous state. Sorry, but I don't give a shit about whether he did or didn't. This ad reeks of uptight conservatives who view gambling as some sort of sinful vice. Just because they don't want anything to do with it doesn't give them the right to prevent others from doing so. Granted, I love poker, blackjack, and almost everything associated with casinos. But on a more practical level, I can't think of anything better for a struggling economy than the emergence of a casino (they should be in every state). They not only create thounsands of jobs, but they bring in tons of money from tourists and rich folks who otherwise might not think twice about stepping foot in this state. There's no downside here.
Amidst all the election hoopla, Oliver Stone's "W" arrived in theaters rather quietly. With Bush's reign nearing an end and focus shifting to his potential successors, it seemed an odd time to release the film. Having seen it, I wonder if the typically controversial Stone is losing his edge. He has been a vocal Bush-basher, and with commercials and late night shows playing up the comedic moments, I anticipated a great entertainment. However, the film seemed more a sincere effort to humanize Mr. Bush. By the end I felt more sorry for the president than anything else. Still, I couldn't escape the feeling that Stone had softened his take in hopes of not alienating Bush supporters, presumably to ensure bigger box-office results. On the plus side, Josh Brolin was remarkable as Bush and seems destined to earn an oscar nomination for his lead portrayal. Unfortunately, the rest of the performances were a mixed bag, which abtly describes the film. It was a decent diversion, but ultimately a lost opportunity.
In a few weeks time, Bush will seem a distant memory, as will the loser of 2008 election. It's up to you to decide the identity of our new leader. If you vote like a good citizen, Starbucks is offering a free 'Tall' coffee ('Tall' supposedly represents their 'Small,' a needless contradiction if I've ever heard one). However, if you vote for Obama, I'll throw in a $5 blackjack voucher at your casino of choice. But whichever way you go, one thing is certain . . . you're gambling.
Arguably the dumbest McCain ad shows an empty oval office, followed by a voice-over claiming that Obama has never faced a crisis in the executive chair. Ummm, maybe I'm hallucinating, but I'm pretty sure McCain has never been in that position either. His funniest ads involve pork taxes. Apparently rich folks don't want to pay for poor people's bacon, and I think that's just selfish. Come to think of it, if Obama is elected will they change the name of the White House to the Black House? (Bu-dum-ching). On a more serious note though, I'm really scared for Obama should he get elected. I'd like to think the two morons recently arrested for threatening to kill Obama voters were the only two out there. Unfortunately, even in 2008 there is senseless hatred and bigotry and I'd be shocked if there weren't similar incidents in the future.
One local ad has actually pissed me off far more than anything involving the presidential campaigns. At least ten times a day, I am subjected to ads endorsing a "no" vote on issue six, regarding bringing a fully operational casino to Ohio. The message behind it warns viewers that the potential owner and operator failed to pay casino taxes in his previous state. Sorry, but I don't give a shit about whether he did or didn't. This ad reeks of uptight conservatives who view gambling as some sort of sinful vice. Just because they don't want anything to do with it doesn't give them the right to prevent others from doing so. Granted, I love poker, blackjack, and almost everything associated with casinos. But on a more practical level, I can't think of anything better for a struggling economy than the emergence of a casino (they should be in every state). They not only create thounsands of jobs, but they bring in tons of money from tourists and rich folks who otherwise might not think twice about stepping foot in this state. There's no downside here.
Amidst all the election hoopla, Oliver Stone's "W" arrived in theaters rather quietly. With Bush's reign nearing an end and focus shifting to his potential successors, it seemed an odd time to release the film. Having seen it, I wonder if the typically controversial Stone is losing his edge. He has been a vocal Bush-basher, and with commercials and late night shows playing up the comedic moments, I anticipated a great entertainment. However, the film seemed more a sincere effort to humanize Mr. Bush. By the end I felt more sorry for the president than anything else. Still, I couldn't escape the feeling that Stone had softened his take in hopes of not alienating Bush supporters, presumably to ensure bigger box-office results. On the plus side, Josh Brolin was remarkable as Bush and seems destined to earn an oscar nomination for his lead portrayal. Unfortunately, the rest of the performances were a mixed bag, which abtly describes the film. It was a decent diversion, but ultimately a lost opportunity.
In a few weeks time, Bush will seem a distant memory, as will the loser of 2008 election. It's up to you to decide the identity of our new leader. If you vote like a good citizen, Starbucks is offering a free 'Tall' coffee ('Tall' supposedly represents their 'Small,' a needless contradiction if I've ever heard one). However, if you vote for Obama, I'll throw in a $5 blackjack voucher at your casino of choice. But whichever way you go, one thing is certain . . . you're gambling.
Friday, October 17, 2008
No End In Sight
I thought they were dead. How could I not? Down 7-0 against a Tampa squad that had embarassed them since the end of game 2. Following the humiliating game 4 debacle (seriously, it looked like Wakefield had been throwing lobs for batting practice), I was humbled by that old age "Maybe it's just not our year." Being the defending champions makes this kind of pill slightly easier to swallow, as does not actively hating the team that might send yours home for the winter. But these Rays are good, really good. They're young, they play hard, they pitch well, they hit exceptionally, and they don't wear pinstripes. In a way I'm happy for their fans, being able to cheer the only worthwhile Rays team since they became a franchise. Though I'm still blown away by the story of the 12-year-old kid in Florida who got suspended from school for having a 'rayhawk,' a style he and his family, as well as many fans, cultivated in support of their team. Apparently, his school district enforces a dress code prohibiting 'distracting haircuts,' and now the poor kid can't return until his hair grows out. I don't know who's worse, the uptight administrator who suspended him or the moron who instituted the code in the first place. I'd like a few minutes along in a room with no cameras with both men to beat some sense into them.
But last night in the 7th inning, when all hope was lost, something extraordinary happened. The Sox started hitting. Lowrie scored on a single by Pedroia. Ortiz blasted a 3-run shot, narrow the gap to 7-4. The impossible had become the improbable, but they weren't done yet. In the 8th J.D. Drew homered, and suddenly it a 7-6. Then Crisp singled, driving in the tying run. Enter Masterson, who successfully held off the Rays in the top of the 9th, setting the stage for Drew. The 33-year-old lefty stepped to the plate and drove a deep single to right, allowing Youkilis to score. Ballgame. I have several friends who fell asleep or turned the game off long before the final pitch. One even dreamed the Sox had come back to win, woke up confused, turned on the tube for confirmation, and then asked his wife if he was still dreaming. Watching the mob at homeplate, I was stunned by what had transpired, though maybe I should'nt have been. The Red Sox famously came back from a 3-0 deficit to knock the Yankees out in 2004. Last year they clawed from a 3-1 whole against the Indians. Both times they made and won the World Series. While it's a little too early to predict whether they'll get there again, I would put serious money on the Sox winning game 6, as momentum has shifted in their favor. A comeback of this magnitude can be devastating to the losing team, especially in baseball, where scorching offensive streaks are not only unpredictable but unstoppable. When it's going well for the opposition, there's just not a whole lot you can do except wait it out. That's why I suspect it will take Tampa at least one more game to regain their confidence.
I was briefly tempted to say that the Rays blew it last night, but I honestly haven't felt that way even once during this series. The phrase 'blew it' (assumming we're talking about sports) insinuates that the team screwed up. In this situation the Boston bats simply came alive, dominating the late innings the same way the Rays had in earlier games. In fact this is the first series I've seen in a long time where I've put all the emphasis on the positive, not the negative. Teams are winning games, not losing them. As bad as Carlos Pena botched a poor throw from Evan Longoria in what should've been the 3rd out in the bottom of the 9th (bad bounce or not, that was inexcusable), it would've been irrelevant had Drew failed to deliver. By the way, has any Red Sox player transformed from scapegoat to hero as quickly or dramatically as Drew has? It wasn't long ago we were all complaining about his salary and "weak" mental toughness stemming from the widespread opinion that baseball isn't his whole life. But at this point, is there anybody on the Sox you'd rather have at the plate with the game on the line? Me neither.
Going into the postseason very few prognosticators picked Boston, which isn't surprising. Their 2008 season has been inconsistent to say the least . . . The Ellsbury/Crisp logjam in center field, the status of Schilling, the emergence of Lester, the Manny saga, the September surge into the playoffs, Lowell's injury, the M.V.P. campaigns for Youk and Pedroia, the obliteration of the mighty Angels, the stunt doubles who've replaced Varitek and Becket, etc... It's been a roller-coaster, culminating in a stunning game 5 victory that no one saw coming. In a year filled with uncertainty, Terry Francona has somehow kept his ship afloat. Seeing the end of Yankee stadium will ultimately make 2008 memorable for Sox fans regardless of how far the team goes. But if they can somehow muster the strength to fight past Tampa and win the World Series for the 3rd time in 5 years, this Red Sox club will be cherished for a different reason. In what could be viewed as poetic justice following last Februrary's Superbowl, the underdog will once again have prevailed.
But last night in the 7th inning, when all hope was lost, something extraordinary happened. The Sox started hitting. Lowrie scored on a single by Pedroia. Ortiz blasted a 3-run shot, narrow the gap to 7-4. The impossible had become the improbable, but they weren't done yet. In the 8th J.D. Drew homered, and suddenly it a 7-6. Then Crisp singled, driving in the tying run. Enter Masterson, who successfully held off the Rays in the top of the 9th, setting the stage for Drew. The 33-year-old lefty stepped to the plate and drove a deep single to right, allowing Youkilis to score. Ballgame. I have several friends who fell asleep or turned the game off long before the final pitch. One even dreamed the Sox had come back to win, woke up confused, turned on the tube for confirmation, and then asked his wife if he was still dreaming. Watching the mob at homeplate, I was stunned by what had transpired, though maybe I should'nt have been. The Red Sox famously came back from a 3-0 deficit to knock the Yankees out in 2004. Last year they clawed from a 3-1 whole against the Indians. Both times they made and won the World Series. While it's a little too early to predict whether they'll get there again, I would put serious money on the Sox winning game 6, as momentum has shifted in their favor. A comeback of this magnitude can be devastating to the losing team, especially in baseball, where scorching offensive streaks are not only unpredictable but unstoppable. When it's going well for the opposition, there's just not a whole lot you can do except wait it out. That's why I suspect it will take Tampa at least one more game to regain their confidence.
I was briefly tempted to say that the Rays blew it last night, but I honestly haven't felt that way even once during this series. The phrase 'blew it' (assumming we're talking about sports) insinuates that the team screwed up. In this situation the Boston bats simply came alive, dominating the late innings the same way the Rays had in earlier games. In fact this is the first series I've seen in a long time where I've put all the emphasis on the positive, not the negative. Teams are winning games, not losing them. As bad as Carlos Pena botched a poor throw from Evan Longoria in what should've been the 3rd out in the bottom of the 9th (bad bounce or not, that was inexcusable), it would've been irrelevant had Drew failed to deliver. By the way, has any Red Sox player transformed from scapegoat to hero as quickly or dramatically as Drew has? It wasn't long ago we were all complaining about his salary and "weak" mental toughness stemming from the widespread opinion that baseball isn't his whole life. But at this point, is there anybody on the Sox you'd rather have at the plate with the game on the line? Me neither.
Going into the postseason very few prognosticators picked Boston, which isn't surprising. Their 2008 season has been inconsistent to say the least . . . The Ellsbury/Crisp logjam in center field, the status of Schilling, the emergence of Lester, the Manny saga, the September surge into the playoffs, Lowell's injury, the M.V.P. campaigns for Youk and Pedroia, the obliteration of the mighty Angels, the stunt doubles who've replaced Varitek and Becket, etc... It's been a roller-coaster, culminating in a stunning game 5 victory that no one saw coming. In a year filled with uncertainty, Terry Francona has somehow kept his ship afloat. Seeing the end of Yankee stadium will ultimately make 2008 memorable for Sox fans regardless of how far the team goes. But if they can somehow muster the strength to fight past Tampa and win the World Series for the 3rd time in 5 years, this Red Sox club will be cherished for a different reason. In what could be viewed as poetic justice following last Februrary's Superbowl, the underdog will once again have prevailed.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Pava in Wonderland
So I failed my Ohio driving test. Actually, I should specify. I failed the mandatory, multiple-choice computer test required for new residents. Naturally, the Ohio driving guide neglected to inform me I'd have to take such an exam. I'd figured a sexy smile and my social security number would be enough to obtain a piece of plastic labeled 'Ohio.' Despite my reservations, the woman working at the DMV assured me the test was comprised mostly of common sense information that anyone would know. Additionally, out of the 40 total questions, I only had to answer 30 correctly. My confidence was quickly restored. After all, I've been driving for 11 years. How hard could this be? Upon passing my eye exam, I sat at my randomly assigned computer space. First question: "Who is required to wear their seatbelts in a moving vehicle?" I smiled and rolled my eyes, proudly clicking the box reading "Everyone in the vehicle." Rather than a green checkmark though, I suddenly faced a big red X. It then flashed a blinking green circle around the correct answer, "Any passenger riding in the front seat." I stared at the screen in disbelief before surveying other testtakers from afar. Was this a joke? I half expected Ashton Kutcher to run through the front door with the crew from Punk'd.
I quickly re-centered my attention and continued, only the more questions I read, the more baffled I became. You only need to leave 1 full car length between your car and the one in front of you? Motorcycle drivers over the age of 18 don't have to wear helmets? A yellow light means go faster? Ok, I made the last one up, but based on the other answers, it didn't seem like too much of a stretch. After 14 questions I was cruising along at a 50% rate. Following question 27, the test ended abruptly. Feeling pathetic and confused, I next had to suffer the indignity of watching a wrinkly old man with a badge on his shirt shake his head while announcing "This isn't good." I was told I could retake the test in 24 hours, though not later that day, only adding to the sustained nonsense I'd experienced since walking through the front door. Would it be cheating to sit down and take it again? I guess they figured if a full day passed, I might do even more poorly the second time. I took my free study guide and sat impatiently, waiting for my girlfriend to finish. She did better, geting all the way to question 38 before failing.
On the way out we laughed at the sheer stupidity of the entire experience. Had we been told we'd have to take a test ahead of time, we would've prepared. Had we prepared, we would've passed. Had we passed, I wouldn't be sitting here complaining about it. However, after having seen some of the test answers, we began to question the common sense of Ohio lawmakers. I mean seriously, seatbelts aren't required for backseat passengers? Isn't that typically where children ride? Maybe 7 year olds are encouraged to get behind the wheel, leaving backseats vacant most of the time. If these are my new driving laws, I'm not sure I want to follow them. Shortly after leaving the DMV, we got caught behind an elderly woman in a parking lot. Backing out of her space, she came within inches of hitting another car before performing the world's first 12-point turn. By the time she reached the main road, I was half-asleep. This woman had managed to obtain her license, but we failed on the basis of a computer test? Could Old Lady Magoo even see the computer screen? I guess I'm gonna have to teach these Ohioans how to drive safely. A scarier truth has never been spoken.
I quickly re-centered my attention and continued, only the more questions I read, the more baffled I became. You only need to leave 1 full car length between your car and the one in front of you? Motorcycle drivers over the age of 18 don't have to wear helmets? A yellow light means go faster? Ok, I made the last one up, but based on the other answers, it didn't seem like too much of a stretch. After 14 questions I was cruising along at a 50% rate. Following question 27, the test ended abruptly. Feeling pathetic and confused, I next had to suffer the indignity of watching a wrinkly old man with a badge on his shirt shake his head while announcing "This isn't good." I was told I could retake the test in 24 hours, though not later that day, only adding to the sustained nonsense I'd experienced since walking through the front door. Would it be cheating to sit down and take it again? I guess they figured if a full day passed, I might do even more poorly the second time. I took my free study guide and sat impatiently, waiting for my girlfriend to finish. She did better, geting all the way to question 38 before failing.
On the way out we laughed at the sheer stupidity of the entire experience. Had we been told we'd have to take a test ahead of time, we would've prepared. Had we prepared, we would've passed. Had we passed, I wouldn't be sitting here complaining about it. However, after having seen some of the test answers, we began to question the common sense of Ohio lawmakers. I mean seriously, seatbelts aren't required for backseat passengers? Isn't that typically where children ride? Maybe 7 year olds are encouraged to get behind the wheel, leaving backseats vacant most of the time. If these are my new driving laws, I'm not sure I want to follow them. Shortly after leaving the DMV, we got caught behind an elderly woman in a parking lot. Backing out of her space, she came within inches of hitting another car before performing the world's first 12-point turn. By the time she reached the main road, I was half-asleep. This woman had managed to obtain her license, but we failed on the basis of a computer test? Could Old Lady Magoo even see the computer screen? I guess I'm gonna have to teach these Ohioans how to drive safely. A scarier truth has never been spoken.
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