It's that time again. With 2008 about to give way to the New Year, I want to pay tribute to the people who passed this year. Not everyone is accounted for, but here are the individuals who meant something to me.
Aunt Bess (89): One of the funniest women I ever had the privilege of knowing. Though never in great health as long as I remember, she never let more than a minute go by without making us laugh, sometimes intentionally, other times not. Not even diabetes could stop her from a rich piece of chocolate. Aunt Bess was matter of fact about the grimmest of subjects, such as death, disease, and relationships (picture an even straighter-faced Steve Carell). But she was sharp as a bat and always showed a keen interest in what my brothers and I were doing with our lives. We didn't see her as often as I'm sure she would've liked (living 100 miles away), but knowing our visits brought her joy makes me smile, as does knowing where a pronounced portion of my sense of humor must've came from.
George Carlin (71): The list of genuinely funny comedians in my lifetime is pretty short. Now subtract those who were legitimate trail blazers, equal parts eloquent and merciless, and we only have one. I had the good fortune to see Carlin perform in Las Vegas in 2002, a phenomenal piece of work that ranks with a recent Jerry Seinfeld show as the funniest live comedy act I've seen. What set Carlin apart was his honesty, mastery of language (truly unique, he often sounded like a walking encyclopedia), and the fact that he never seemed to do a bit just to fill time. One could always find harsh truths hidden in the subtext of his carefully chosen words. Several of his acts ("Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television, "Baseball and Football," "The Ten Commandments," "Airplane Safety," "Saving the Planet") have achieved legendary status. But it was his quick-witted attacks on religion, politics, and general stupidity perpetrated by all of us that made him a brilliant spokesman for his time.
Heath Ledger (28): Not since the death of River Phoenix had Hollywood lost such a promising young actor, whose legend is likely to grow as a result of his tragic passing. His performances elicited a stronger emotional response than all but a handful of actors from his generation. Even in lesser films such as "10 Things I Hate About You" and "The Patriot," his natural charisma elevated the material. His sad, muted work in "Brokeback Mountain" was as powerful as anything I've seen in the last decade of cinema. He deserved an Oscar for that role (2005), but will likely earn one posthumously for his stunning portrayal of the Joker in this summer's "The Dark Knight." Ledger balanced horror, humor, insanity, and brilliance in a role made famous to many by Jack Nicholson. Ledger's ultimate trick was in making sure his interpretation was the one we will all remember.
Paul Newman (83): Quite possibly the most likeable actor of all-time, Newman was also among the most versatile performers of his era. And at the risk of sounding very gay, he wasn't too ugly a fella either. Upon hearing news of his passing, my Mom sounded genuinely affected as she said "this one feels more personal somehow." Newman was a philanthropist of the highest order, raising an astounding 250 million for charity through his Newman's Own food company. He was rumored to have no ego, seemingly impossible given an astounding ten Academy Award nominations and a plethora of landmark films he will be remembered for. My favorite Newman performance was his rebellious turn as the title character in "Cool Hand Luke," followed closely by Fast Eddie Felson, a role he originated in "The Hustler" and returned to in "The Color of Money." Other essential performances included his work in "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof," "Hud," "The Sting," "The Verdict," and "Road to Perdition." I would argue no current actor so successfully blurs the line between actor and movie star as Mr. Butch Cassidy did.
Roy Scheider (75): His passing early in 2008 didn't receive the same publicity as some of his more celebrated contemporaries, but Scheider possessed an everyman quality that several of his era's bigger names lacked. During the 1970s, considered by many to be the greatest decade in American cinema, Scheider made a lasting impression. His credits included the thrillers "Marathon Man" and "The French Connection," as well as the semi-autobiographical drama "All That Jazz." While the latter two earned him Oscar nominations, he was best known for his role as Police Chief Martin Brody, the reluctant hero of Steven Spielberg's "Jaws." The film most often credited with creating the Hollywood blockbuster, "Jaws" set itself apart on the strength of its human characters, usually absent in the thousands of clones since. Brody hated the water; Scheider made us believe it could happen to anyone.
Some Others We Lost . . .
Sammy Baugh (94): The last surviving member of the Pro Football Hall of Fame's inaugural class, the Washington Redskins quarterback is widely regarded as one of the finest to ever play the game.
John Costelloe (47): Costelloe was best known for his role as Johnny Cakes, the gay fireman and short-order cook who formed a relationship with closeted mob capo Vito in the final season of the HBO hit "The Sopranos."
Michael Crighton (66): The hugely successful author wrote several thrillers, including "The Great Train Robbery," "Jurassic Park," "The Lost World," "The Andromeda Strain," "Disclosure," and "Congo." He also created the Emmy Award-winning drama, "E.R.", one of the most popular television shows of the last twenty years.
Kevin Duckworth (44): Duckworth was a two-time All-Star center who helped the Portland Trail Blazers reach the NBA finals in both 1990 and 1992. The 1992 team, featuring a starting five of Duckworth, Clyde Drexler, Terry Porter, Buck Williams, and Jerome Kersey came as close to defeating Michael Jordan's Bulls as anyone.
Bobby Fischer (64): One of the finest chess players who ever lived, Fischer's disappearance from competitive chess provided the basis for the 1993 film "Searching for Bobby Fischer." He remains the only American to win the World Chess Championship.
Stanley Kamel (65): Though most widely known for his role on the USA series "Monk," I will remember him as mobster Tony Marchette, whose feud with Luke Perry's Dylan McKay provided the dramatic center of season 6 of "Beverly Hills 90210."
Estelle Getty (84): An Emmy and two-time Golden Globe winner for her role as Sophia Petrillo on The Golden Girls, Getty was actually younger than co-stars Bea Arthur and Betty White despite playing the foul-mouthed mother of the former. She later starred in the dreadful Sylvester Stallone comedy "Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot."
Isaac Hayes (65): Among the most well-known musicians of the past half-century, Hayes also possessed one of the coolest voices the world has ever known. Among his many credits, the three-time Grammy winner performed the universally known "Theme from Shaft" and voiced Chef on Comedy Central's "South Park."
Charlton Heston (84): An outspoken political activist and noted gun nut, Heston was also Hollywood's go-to-guy for heroic epics throughout the 1950s-60s. His impressive resume included "The Ten Commandments," "El Cid," "Ben-Hur," "Touch of Evil," and
"Planet of the Apes." He also provided one of my favorite cameos
in "Wayne's World 2," making Mike Myers cry with his story of a girl he once knew on Gordon Street.
Bernie Mac (50): As much as anyone this year, Mac's death came as a complete shock. The engaging comedian lent his winning presence to films like "The Original Kings of Comedy," "Friday," "Above the Rim," "Life," "Bad Santa," and the "Ocean's 11" franchise. He was also nominated for two Emmy awards for his lead role on the self-titled "The Bernie Mac Show."
Sydney Pollack (73): One of the most respected talents in the film community, Pollack made impressions as an actor in films such as "The Player," "Eyes Wide Shut," and "Michael Clayton," though his real gift was directing. The Oscar winner's credits included "The Way We Were," "Three Days of the Condor," "Absence of Malice,"
"Out of Africa," and "The Firm." However, his crowning
achievement remains "Tootsie," one of the smartest and funniest comedies ever made.
Robert Prosky (77): One of cinema's quintessential "that guys," Prosky wasn't flashy but his work always lent credibility to the projects he chose. I'll remember him most for a pair of 1993 roles; as Father Cavanaugh who helps Rudy Ruettiger get into Notre Dame in "Rudy" and as Mr. Lundy, Robin Williams' boss in "Mrs. Doubtfire."
Brad Renfro (25): Renfro tragically OD'd from heroin use early in the year, ending an often troubled career that started with great promise in 1994. He followed his tremendous debut in the hit film "The Client" with strong performances in the underrated drama "Sleepers," "Apt Pupil," and "Ghost World."
Stan Winston (62): Anyone without a deep appreciation of film probably doesn't recognize his name, but the four-time Oscar winner's visual effects & make-up artistry proved essential to a number of hugely popular films. Winston's credits included "Aliens," "Predator," "Edward Scissorhands," "Terminator 2," "AI: Artificial Intelligence," and "Jurassic Park."
Lastly, I would be remiss if I didn't briefly mention several of 2008's biggest retirements, starting off with one of the most polarizing athletes of my lifetime;
Antoine Walker: Though not officially retired, I doubt any team's going to go out of its way to sign 'Twoine, a one-time offensive talent who couldn't jump over a piece of paper. Seriously, what 6' 9" black man can't dunk a basketball with one hand? An athletic enigma if ever there was one, Walker was as likely to make Celtics fans smack their collective foreheads as cheer for the mercurial talent, an occasionally brilliant passer and turnover machine. In the years when Boston became the laughingstock of the NBA, Walker was noteworthy for his supreme entertainment value, which included his infamous wiggle, equally probable to appear following triple-double efforts and his many errant, tiptoed 3-point launches from 27 feet out. This past summer in Vegas, Walker was responsible for another highlight. Celebrating a good friend's bachelor party at Nine's Steakhouse, Walker briefly joined our parade of Boston fans for some laughs, high-fives, and best wishes for the intoxicated groom-to-be, who showed Antoine how the shimmy is really done.
Others who hung 'em up (presumably) for the last time . . .
MLB: Greg Maddux, Mike Mussina, Mike Piazza
MOA (Morons of America): George W. Bush & Dick Cheney
NBA: Pat Riley, Chris Webber, Bobby Knight (NCAA)
NFL: Troy Brown & Willie McGinest, Steve McNair, Warren Saap, Michael Strahan
Farewell 2008. Now join me as we say L'shanah haba'ah b'Yerushalayim!
Reel Opinions on Movies
Friday, December 26, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Happy Holidays from Ohio
End the Past Year with Some Holiday Cheer
‘Twas the night before Christmas and Beefy was bored,
Flipping through channels, drinking coke that I poured.
"It’s a Wonderful Life" seemed a wise choice to me,
TB, her Mom, and myself totaled 3.
With night 4 of Chanukah and Christmas about,
It’s time to start writing, rather than shout.
An ode then to all that was 2008,
The highs and the lows, the crappy and great.
Moving to Ohio where the weather plain blows,
The rain, the wind, and the snow are my foes.
I got a bad cold and was sick for a week,
Jobless and broke, my situation was bleak.
But TB got straight A’s and did great in school,
Supporting yours truly with groceries and fuel.
We’ve mostly adjusted and today I got work,
Thank God for Trinity: A video store clerk.
I’ve been working out and can run a 5K,
I honestly never thought I’d see the day.
Setting goals is key and keeps me on track,
Especially when I’m in the mood for a juicy Big Mac.
I long for old Boston, the game day high fives,
Several old friends have turned girlfriends to wives.
We’re all growing up, some quicker than others,
But even far apart, they’re all still my brothers.
I do miss my family, though we talk every day,
They loyally read every word that I say.
From movies to sports to the babble I write,
They always find humor laced with a sarcastic bite.
Speaking of sports, what a year it has been,
My beloved Celtics continue to win.
On pace to break records with Rondo a star,
For a second I almost forget M.L. Carr.
I know they’ll beat up L.A. tomorrow,
To heal me from feeling any Red Sox sorrow,
The Yankees spending has left me all hollow,
All hail the wealthy, Teixeira will follow.
I’m sure they’ll be fine, just likes the Pats
Marching onward with the confidence of Minnesota Fats.
Brady is down, but Cassel is a winner,
I can’t wait for tomorrow’s ham and latke dinner (no joke!)
This year the best shows were "The Office" and "Lost,"
That flash-forward business had me all turned and tossed.
Better than anything at the movies for sure,
Will "Benjamin Button" finally be the cure?
"10,000 B.C." was the worst of all-time,
"Burn After Reading" wasn’t worth a dime,
Movies about women were hideously bad,
"The Women" and "Mamma Mia" simply made me mad.
"Narnia" sucked, "Tropic Thunder" was a bore,
And "Sex and the City" was quite a lame chore.
To the library I went to rent some old hits,
Nearly all of them boasted superior wits.
I’ve hardly played cards, but a break is ok,
Not like I’ve had the resources anyway.
I may soon be teaching the young kids again,
If I ever get a call back, who knows if and when?
For now I’ll look forward to 2009,
A full year in the Midwest to think and to whine.
I’m half-kidding though, things are turning around,
Maybe by then a writing job I’ll have found.
But I do have my health, my friends, fam., and T.B.,
I’m actually a pretty lucky guy don’t you see?
Can’t wait for tomorrow morning's parade with Al Roker,
See you all in July from the World Series of Poker.
Happy Holidays,
Z
‘Twas the night before Christmas and Beefy was bored,
Flipping through channels, drinking coke that I poured.
"It’s a Wonderful Life" seemed a wise choice to me,
TB, her Mom, and myself totaled 3.
With night 4 of Chanukah and Christmas about,
It’s time to start writing, rather than shout.
An ode then to all that was 2008,
The highs and the lows, the crappy and great.
Moving to Ohio where the weather plain blows,
The rain, the wind, and the snow are my foes.
I got a bad cold and was sick for a week,
Jobless and broke, my situation was bleak.
But TB got straight A’s and did great in school,
Supporting yours truly with groceries and fuel.
We’ve mostly adjusted and today I got work,
Thank God for Trinity: A video store clerk.
I’ve been working out and can run a 5K,
I honestly never thought I’d see the day.
Setting goals is key and keeps me on track,
Especially when I’m in the mood for a juicy Big Mac.
I long for old Boston, the game day high fives,
Several old friends have turned girlfriends to wives.
We’re all growing up, some quicker than others,
But even far apart, they’re all still my brothers.
I do miss my family, though we talk every day,
They loyally read every word that I say.
From movies to sports to the babble I write,
They always find humor laced with a sarcastic bite.
Speaking of sports, what a year it has been,
My beloved Celtics continue to win.
On pace to break records with Rondo a star,
For a second I almost forget M.L. Carr.
I know they’ll beat up L.A. tomorrow,
To heal me from feeling any Red Sox sorrow,
The Yankees spending has left me all hollow,
All hail the wealthy, Teixeira will follow.
I’m sure they’ll be fine, just likes the Pats
Marching onward with the confidence of Minnesota Fats.
Brady is down, but Cassel is a winner,
I can’t wait for tomorrow’s ham and latke dinner (no joke!)
This year the best shows were "The Office" and "Lost,"
That flash-forward business had me all turned and tossed.
Better than anything at the movies for sure,
Will "Benjamin Button" finally be the cure?
"10,000 B.C." was the worst of all-time,
"Burn After Reading" wasn’t worth a dime,
Movies about women were hideously bad,
"The Women" and "Mamma Mia" simply made me mad.
"Narnia" sucked, "Tropic Thunder" was a bore,
And "Sex and the City" was quite a lame chore.
To the library I went to rent some old hits,
Nearly all of them boasted superior wits.
I’ve hardly played cards, but a break is ok,
Not like I’ve had the resources anyway.
I may soon be teaching the young kids again,
If I ever get a call back, who knows if and when?
For now I’ll look forward to 2009,
A full year in the Midwest to think and to whine.
I’m half-kidding though, things are turning around,
Maybe by then a writing job I’ll have found.
But I do have my health, my friends, fam., and T.B.,
I’m actually a pretty lucky guy don’t you see?
Can’t wait for tomorrow morning's parade with Al Roker,
See you all in July from the World Series of Poker.
Happy Holidays,
Z
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Denied a Sample
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
McCain vs. Obama 2008: A thoughtful Interpretation
As many of you know, politics are not exactly my forte. I'm pulling for Obama in large part because he's a democrat and because I value his priorities a lot more than Bush and McCain, who seem like long-lost brothers in many ways. I gave their first debate my all last night, but ultimately lasted until just past the half-way point. Believe me though, this represents major progress for me. A poll on MSN revealed that 52% felt Obama won, 34% felt McCain won, and the rest were either undecided or thought it was a tie. Here to help you decide who really won is a rough transcript of the first presedential debate between my girlfriend and I.
9:00-9:15 PM:
I'm really pumped up to give this thing a real try.
Z: "Maybe MCain will forget where he is and it'll be over"
T: (laughs)
Attention turns to Jim Lehrer, the moderator of these proceedings.
Z: "Why does this guy get to come up with the questions? (pause) Obama looks nervous."
T: "Does Obama have snot under his nose?" Z looks at T and chuckles. T looks back seriously. "What?"
McCain takes long pause before thanking the university hosting the debate.
Z: "McCain almost forgot what school they're at!"
T: "McCain hasn't been feeling well? What if he has diarrhea?" (laughs)
She goes to get laundry basket for some folding. She comes back and stares closely at McCain.
T: "Why is only his bottom lip moving?"
Z: "Guy's a freak."
McCain makes a joke about his own hearing, smiling as he asks "Afraid I can't hear him." At least the old fart has a sense of humor.
9:16-9:30 PM:
Z: "McCain has an awful combover."
T: "I dunno, his hair's so white it blends with his scalp."
Two Minutes go by.
T: "What are they talking about?"
Z: "Obama's ears are huge!"
A few seconds later Obama uses the word earmarks and I explode with laughter.
Z: "Do you think Obama wants to shave his head, but knows he can't?"
T: "Why?"
Z: "Because he'd look cooler."
McCain laughs at a personal in-joke about being called 'The Sheriff.' Is he even paying attention? Obama doesn't think so and cuts him off when he's attempting to discuss taxes. At this moment, Jim starts mumbling.
Z: "The guy running this thing is a stuttering idiot."
T: "What if McCain gets Alzheimers?"
McCain proceeds to use the word 'fastuned.'
Z: "What? Is that even a word?"
McCain then refers to Obama as 'Captain' before correcting himself with 'Senator.'
Z: "Are there commercials in this?"
T: "Don't know.
In place of the word million, McCain says 'mirrion.
T: "These people talk funny."
Obama then mentions Ohio and Michigan. T throws her arms up in the air.
T: "Ohioooooo!"
9:31-9:45 PM:
Z: "I can't believe they have to stand this whole time?"
Obama refers to McCain as 'Tom' instead of Jon, forcing a rewind on my part. Obama then recommends cutting back on the $10 BILLION a month we are spending in Iraq. I get bored and peruse the viewing guide.
Z: "Hey, The Cable Guy's on."
McCain then announces that we owe China $500 BILLION. Z looks up in shock.
Z: "What???"
I turn to T, who'se on the computer playing free cell.
Obama then calls McCain 'Jim', before proceeding to use the word 'orgy' to describe our spending. McCain counters by announcing his wife is a real maverick. Jim looks up, realizing the debate is falling apart and quickly changes the subject. McCain proudly announces that he went to Iraq in 2003 and realized we had to change our strategy there.
Z: "Wow. This guy's a pioneer huh?"
9:46-10:00 PM:
Obama is owning McCain and Bush for their lack of common sense in invading Iraq in the first place, in large part because of the absurd amount of money spent and all the American lives that've been lost. McCain quickly attempts to distract the criticism with talks of patriotism and then accuses Obama of denying that we are winning the war. Obama shakes his head, saying "that's not true." Insightful.
Z: "You think Bush is even watch this? I bet he's playing Wii."
T: (laughs)
Obama complains we don't even have enough troops in Afghanistan, because we have so many more troops in Iraq than when we originally surged. McCain then becomes the first man to use the word 'explectations.' Scary shades of Bush there. McCain is clearly rattled as Obama announces that there wasn't even Al Queda until we invaded. Obama is so fumed he starts pronouncing Pakistan as 'Pakeeston.' McCain followed that up by calling the Taliban 'Taleeban.' It sounds Mexican.
10:01-10:07 PM
T: "Obama's either gonna make all white people slaves or give information to Bin Laden. He gives me a sick feeling in my stomach."
McCain keeps mentioning General Patrias, who I've never even heard of.
Z: "I'm pretty sure he just made that guy up."
Obama then accuses McCain of singing songs about bombing Iran. McCain responds by reciting his resume, including his personal history in Congress, which has nothing to do with anything.
Z: "What is he talking about? He just makes statements that completely avoid the issues!"
McCain then talks about a bracelet he got from a mother in New Hampshire. Obama retorts by announcing he also has a bracelet.
I then get a text message from my youngest brother reading 'peepeepoopoo.' Always nice to get words of wisdom from family. Jim then smiles and proudly announces that each candidate has had equal talk time, as if he's looking for a pat on the back and some cookies. T has officially stopped watching.
Z: "Wanna watch the Cosby show?"
T: (laughs)
Z: "Seriously, you still wanna watch this?"
T: "No."
I change the channel to TV Land and start to relax for the first time in over an hour.
9:00-9:15 PM:
I'm really pumped up to give this thing a real try.
Z: "Maybe MCain will forget where he is and it'll be over"
T: (laughs)
Attention turns to Jim Lehrer, the moderator of these proceedings.
Z: "Why does this guy get to come up with the questions? (pause) Obama looks nervous."
T: "Does Obama have snot under his nose?" Z looks at T and chuckles. T looks back seriously. "What?"
McCain takes long pause before thanking the university hosting the debate.
Z: "McCain almost forgot what school they're at!"
T: "McCain hasn't been feeling well? What if he has diarrhea?" (laughs)
She goes to get laundry basket for some folding. She comes back and stares closely at McCain.
T: "Why is only his bottom lip moving?"
Z: "Guy's a freak."
McCain makes a joke about his own hearing, smiling as he asks "Afraid I can't hear him." At least the old fart has a sense of humor.
9:16-9:30 PM:
Z: "McCain has an awful combover."
T: "I dunno, his hair's so white it blends with his scalp."
Two Minutes go by.
T: "What are they talking about?"
Z: "Obama's ears are huge!"
A few seconds later Obama uses the word earmarks and I explode with laughter.
Z: "Do you think Obama wants to shave his head, but knows he can't?"
T: "Why?"
Z: "Because he'd look cooler."
McCain laughs at a personal in-joke about being called 'The Sheriff.' Is he even paying attention? Obama doesn't think so and cuts him off when he's attempting to discuss taxes. At this moment, Jim starts mumbling.
Z: "The guy running this thing is a stuttering idiot."
T: "What if McCain gets Alzheimers?"
McCain proceeds to use the word 'fastuned.'
Z: "What? Is that even a word?"
McCain then refers to Obama as 'Captain' before correcting himself with 'Senator.'
Z: "Are there commercials in this?"
T: "Don't know.
In place of the word million, McCain says 'mirrion.
T: "These people talk funny."
Obama then mentions Ohio and Michigan. T throws her arms up in the air.
T: "Ohioooooo!"
9:31-9:45 PM:
Z: "I can't believe they have to stand this whole time?"
Obama refers to McCain as 'Tom' instead of Jon, forcing a rewind on my part. Obama then recommends cutting back on the $10 BILLION a month we are spending in Iraq. I get bored and peruse the viewing guide.
Z: "Hey, The Cable Guy's on."
McCain then announces that we owe China $500 BILLION. Z looks up in shock.
Z: "What???"
I turn to T, who'se on the computer playing free cell.
Obama then calls McCain 'Jim', before proceeding to use the word 'orgy' to describe our spending. McCain counters by announcing his wife is a real maverick. Jim looks up, realizing the debate is falling apart and quickly changes the subject. McCain proudly announces that he went to Iraq in 2003 and realized we had to change our strategy there.
Z: "Wow. This guy's a pioneer huh?"
9:46-10:00 PM:
Obama is owning McCain and Bush for their lack of common sense in invading Iraq in the first place, in large part because of the absurd amount of money spent and all the American lives that've been lost. McCain quickly attempts to distract the criticism with talks of patriotism and then accuses Obama of denying that we are winning the war. Obama shakes his head, saying "that's not true." Insightful.
Z: "You think Bush is even watch this? I bet he's playing Wii."
T: (laughs)
Obama complains we don't even have enough troops in Afghanistan, because we have so many more troops in Iraq than when we originally surged. McCain then becomes the first man to use the word 'explectations.' Scary shades of Bush there. McCain is clearly rattled as Obama announces that there wasn't even Al Queda until we invaded. Obama is so fumed he starts pronouncing Pakistan as 'Pakeeston.' McCain followed that up by calling the Taliban 'Taleeban.' It sounds Mexican.
10:01-10:07 PM
T: "Obama's either gonna make all white people slaves or give information to Bin Laden. He gives me a sick feeling in my stomach."
McCain keeps mentioning General Patrias, who I've never even heard of.
Z: "I'm pretty sure he just made that guy up."
Obama then accuses McCain of singing songs about bombing Iran. McCain responds by reciting his resume, including his personal history in Congress, which has nothing to do with anything.
Z: "What is he talking about? He just makes statements that completely avoid the issues!"
McCain then talks about a bracelet he got from a mother in New Hampshire. Obama retorts by announcing he also has a bracelet.
I then get a text message from my youngest brother reading 'peepeepoopoo.' Always nice to get words of wisdom from family. Jim then smiles and proudly announces that each candidate has had equal talk time, as if he's looking for a pat on the back and some cookies. T has officially stopped watching.
Z: "Wanna watch the Cosby show?"
T: (laughs)
Z: "Seriously, you still wanna watch this?"
T: "No."
I change the channel to TV Land and start to relax for the first time in over an hour.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Summer Movie Wrap-Up - Pt. I, THE GOOD
Another summer at the movies has come and gone, and my reaction is mixed. Part of me is ready to embrace the smarter, more mature fare that unspools throughout November and December, just in time for oscar season. The other part of me misses the hype, the explosions, and the ads featuring phony quotes. You know they're phony when you read blurbs like "Evan Almighty is the funniest movie I've seen since Caddyshack," says Joe Smith-Johnson from a periodical in a city you've never heard of. For the most part this past summer was as expected. A couple movies were great, a few were horrendous, and the remainder fell into the mediocrity zone (I'm copyrighting that phrase, so don't steal it). More than anything though, my confidence in the impact of screenwriting was reaffirmed. The script more than any other factor makes or breaks the movie, and this summer offered prime evidence. In fact, several actors clawed through uninspired remakes, unfocused plots, and unwanted violence just to make their films tolerable. Among those who survived mostly unscathed were Will Smith, Steve Carrell, Meryl Streep, and Harrison Ford, who made a welcome return as the greatest fictional adventurer of all-time (see blog entitled 'The Return of Indiana Jones' for a full review). However, the summer's three best performances belonged to . . .
Robery Downey Jr.: By any reasonable measure, the former drug addict was the star of the summer. Afer years of quirky performances in critical darlings, Downey Jr. broke through with Iron Man, which shattered industry expectations in becoming the year's 2nd biggest hit. Delivering sharp dialogue with cocky zeal, he infused Tony Stark with more personality than any other movie superhero on record. The character's surprise cameo at the end of The Incredible Hulk actually received more excitement than anything else in the latter movie. For an encore, he starred as Australian method actor Kirk Lazarus playing a black character named Sgt. Osiris in the self-referential misfire Tropic Thunder. Though the film spent way too much time winking at itself and tossing limbs around like confetti, Downey Jr. rose above it, providing almost all of the laughs with rapid-fire delivery and assorted accents.
James Franco: After years of whining at Peter Parker for killing his insane father, I'd nearly given up on the talented, though inconsistent Franco. But he restored my confidence with Pineapple Express, a stoner comedy in which he goes on the run with buddy Seth Rogan after the latter witnesses a murder. Franco played Saul Silver, a clueless drug dealer who hazily enjoyed BK chicken fries and reruns of The Jeffersons. Franco found the perfect tone for Saul, balancing sincerety with foolishness in a performance that deserves mention alongside celebrated cinematic potheads like Jeff Spicoli, David Wooderson, and Jeffrey Lebowski.
Heath Ledger: Alternately hysterical and horrifying, Ledger captivated audiences with one of the best villanious performances of the decade. It's not easy playing the most famous villain in comic-books, especially since Jack Nicholson made the character his own almost 20 years ago. But from the opening scene, Ledger left no doubt as to which Joker I will remember. He dominated The Dark Knight without hogging the spotlight, and forced the other A-listers (Christian Bale, Morgan Freeman, Aaron Eckhart, etc.) to raise their game. The Dark Knight quickly become the biggest blockbuster since Titanic and one suspects fascination following Ledger's death last January was a major contributer. Ironically, his death will likely help earn him a best supporting actor nomination at years end, though he deserves one on the basis of his performance.
Others who merit mention for a job well done . . .
Gary Oldman: The Dark Knight's other great performance belonged to Oldman as Lt. Jim Gordon, the only honest cop in Gotham City. Oldman played the part as seriously as he would Shakespeare to assure us that we were watching something truly important. His performace was most crucial in grounding what became a morality tale filled with life and death choices in the midst of near anarchy.
Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly: Comedy is not easy. If you put two lesser comedic talents in their place, Step Brothers could've sunk under the shear stupidity of the concept. But the summer's best screen duo drew laughs even when they weren't there, playing the most immature grownups since Harry and Lloyd. The best scene; when they unknowingly sleepwalked through their parent's kitchen.
The Creators of WALL-E: Pixar scored again with one of the best films of the year, animated or otherwise. WALL-E dazzled with clever ideas and impressive visuals as it followed the title character from his trash collecting duties on Earth to his adventures onboard the spaceship housing the remainder of humankind. Along the way he fell in love with EVE in what turned out to be the most convicing relationship of the year, amazing considering it involved two robots and hardly any dialogue.
Though it has absolutely nothing to do with performance, I'd be letting my readers down if I didn't stop to acknowledge the sexiest performance of the summer. It's a toss-up between Iron Man's Gwyneth Paltrow and Get Smart's Anne Hathaway. The former played Pepper Pots, Tony Stark's bombshell of an assistant. The latter starred as Agent 99, who oozed sex appeal as she helped keep the bumbling Maxwell Smart alive. Also worth mentioning is Mamma Mia's Amanda Seyfried, the ridiculously cute 22 year old (she's legal, relax) who somehow kept my eyes fixated in the midst of the dumbest movie musical since . . . well, ever!
For the first time in several years, the most popular films of the summer (The Dark Knight, Iron Man, Indy IV, WALL-E) were actually the best, proving that filmgoers do occassionally discriminate between quality and hype. The lone exception was . . .
Robery Downey Jr.: By any reasonable measure, the former drug addict was the star of the summer. Afer years of quirky performances in critical darlings, Downey Jr. broke through with Iron Man, which shattered industry expectations in becoming the year's 2nd biggest hit. Delivering sharp dialogue with cocky zeal, he infused Tony Stark with more personality than any other movie superhero on record. The character's surprise cameo at the end of The Incredible Hulk actually received more excitement than anything else in the latter movie. For an encore, he starred as Australian method actor Kirk Lazarus playing a black character named Sgt. Osiris in the self-referential misfire Tropic Thunder. Though the film spent way too much time winking at itself and tossing limbs around like confetti, Downey Jr. rose above it, providing almost all of the laughs with rapid-fire delivery and assorted accents.
James Franco: After years of whining at Peter Parker for killing his insane father, I'd nearly given up on the talented, though inconsistent Franco. But he restored my confidence with Pineapple Express, a stoner comedy in which he goes on the run with buddy Seth Rogan after the latter witnesses a murder. Franco played Saul Silver, a clueless drug dealer who hazily enjoyed BK chicken fries and reruns of The Jeffersons. Franco found the perfect tone for Saul, balancing sincerety with foolishness in a performance that deserves mention alongside celebrated cinematic potheads like Jeff Spicoli, David Wooderson, and Jeffrey Lebowski.
Heath Ledger: Alternately hysterical and horrifying, Ledger captivated audiences with one of the best villanious performances of the decade. It's not easy playing the most famous villain in comic-books, especially since Jack Nicholson made the character his own almost 20 years ago. But from the opening scene, Ledger left no doubt as to which Joker I will remember. He dominated The Dark Knight without hogging the spotlight, and forced the other A-listers (Christian Bale, Morgan Freeman, Aaron Eckhart, etc.) to raise their game. The Dark Knight quickly become the biggest blockbuster since Titanic and one suspects fascination following Ledger's death last January was a major contributer. Ironically, his death will likely help earn him a best supporting actor nomination at years end, though he deserves one on the basis of his performance.
Others who merit mention for a job well done . . .
Gary Oldman: The Dark Knight's other great performance belonged to Oldman as Lt. Jim Gordon, the only honest cop in Gotham City. Oldman played the part as seriously as he would Shakespeare to assure us that we were watching something truly important. His performace was most crucial in grounding what became a morality tale filled with life and death choices in the midst of near anarchy.
Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly: Comedy is not easy. If you put two lesser comedic talents in their place, Step Brothers could've sunk under the shear stupidity of the concept. But the summer's best screen duo drew laughs even when they weren't there, playing the most immature grownups since Harry and Lloyd. The best scene; when they unknowingly sleepwalked through their parent's kitchen.
The Creators of WALL-E: Pixar scored again with one of the best films of the year, animated or otherwise. WALL-E dazzled with clever ideas and impressive visuals as it followed the title character from his trash collecting duties on Earth to his adventures onboard the spaceship housing the remainder of humankind. Along the way he fell in love with EVE in what turned out to be the most convicing relationship of the year, amazing considering it involved two robots and hardly any dialogue.
Though it has absolutely nothing to do with performance, I'd be letting my readers down if I didn't stop to acknowledge the sexiest performance of the summer. It's a toss-up between Iron Man's Gwyneth Paltrow and Get Smart's Anne Hathaway. The former played Pepper Pots, Tony Stark's bombshell of an assistant. The latter starred as Agent 99, who oozed sex appeal as she helped keep the bumbling Maxwell Smart alive. Also worth mentioning is Mamma Mia's Amanda Seyfried, the ridiculously cute 22 year old (she's legal, relax) who somehow kept my eyes fixated in the midst of the dumbest movie musical since . . . well, ever!
For the first time in several years, the most popular films of the summer (The Dark Knight, Iron Man, Indy IV, WALL-E) were actually the best, proving that filmgoers do occassionally discriminate between quality and hype. The lone exception was . . .
Summer Movie Wrap-Up - Pt.II, THE BAD
Hancock: A fun, though inconsistent mess of a movie that had more ideas than it knew what to do with. The always appealing Will Smith kept things afloat, even as the story meandered in search of an identity. Was it a comedy? A morality tale? A superhero origin story? Could Charlize Theron's character possibly have been more underdeveloped? A couple of rewrites and longer running time could've made Hancock a great entertainment, rather than an adequate one. Still, adequate would've been a large improvement for the following releases;
The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian: Had The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe not been so enjoyable, I wouldn't be quite so disappointed in this lame follow-up. Any sense of awe and wonder from the original quickly vanished in a story that offered no originality. It was poorly paced, inexpertly acted (to be polite), and lacked a memorable villain. The source material for Prince Caspian simply wasn't very interesting, though it proved an intellectual masterpiece compared with . . .
Mamma Mia: Look, I'm aware I was hardly the target audience. But the filmmakers still owe some level of competency to filmgoers don't they? The summer's worst film was an embarassment, from a non-existent plot to Pierce Brosnan's singing to Christine Baranski's successful attempt to prove she's the most annoying actress currently working. Steep and Seyfried were appealing, but the absence of anything resembling style or wit was pathetic. We didn't even find out who the father is! It's as if the director was thinking "Hmm, there's really nothing to this story. Maybe I should insert 78 songs to fill the running time." I'm still waiting for a refund on my admission tickets and popcorn.
Theatrical adaptations have proven a mixed bag over the years, as have film adaptations from television. This summer gave us three uninspired attempts. It's not that any of them were outright awful. They just weren't especially memorable, which has typically been the case with a few notable exceptions (The Fugitive, The Untouchables, The Simpsons Movie come to mind). The biggest drop-off in quality this summer belonged to . . .
Sex and the City: I wouldn't describe myself as a closet fan by any means, though I can readily admit that the t.v. series was well-written and often funny. But the movie just didn't have a story worth telling. The dialogue lacked the punch of the show, as the men were written as 1-dimensional beings, while the four primary actresses came off as self-absorbed and somewhat pathetic. I must admit though, seeing the film in a packed theater was quite the experience. I counted 7 men in attendance, at least 5 of whom were gay, leaving me and one other guy on a date feeling thankful that most women aren't like Carrie and company. (They aren't right?) Then again like Mamma Mia, I know this movie wasn't aimed at me. A couple that were included . . .
The Incredible Hulk: I admit it was better than Ang Lee's Hulk, which turned off almost everyone when it was released in June 2003. Ironically though, despite higher ticket prices, the newest version failed to match the box-office totals of it's predecessor, making one wonder just how commercially viable the character is. In an important casting change, Edward Norton was far more interesting than the relatively bland Eric Bana had been as Bruce Banner. But Liv Tyler and William Hurt (can you say paycheck role?) brought nothing new and made me wish Jennifer Connelly and Sam Elliot had reprised their roles. The most valuable attribute this time around was the visual effects, probably the coolest of the summer, though upon reflection they stood out most because of the lack of a plot to hold everything together.
Get Smart: Another movie that was too fun to be called bad, but far too jumbled to rate as good. The leads (Carell and Hathaway) were very likeable, though they surely didn't make older audiences forget Don Adams. And for younger audiences, the movie came across as Austin Powers-lite. The biggest problem with Get Smart was it's indecision as to whether it was an action movie or a comedy. There were large elements of both, but neither was strong enough to truly satisfy, leaving this viewer underwhelmed once the credits rolled. But Get Smart did lead me to a theory that has stuck well since . . .
COMEDY AND VIOLENCE DO NOT MIX! As proof, look no further than these two late summer entries;
Pineapple Express and Tropic Thunder: The former was a wonderfully funny buddy picture until the final third when humor was abandoned in favor of gunfire and explosions, which left me wondering what the hell happened to the pithy bantar that had ruled the film's opening? Excessive violence is rarely funny in comedies and often seems to indicate that the writer has run out of ideas. Tropic Thunder pushed the envelope further by providing nearly two hours of bloody brutality following an opening that featured hysterical fake ads and trailers. The movie's funniest scene was also it's most offensive, a promo for Simple Jack, with Ben Stiller galavanting about as a helpless retarded yokel. Unfortunately, little else in the film made me laugh, as each subsequent scene drew closer and closer to a remake of Apocalypse Now. Also unfunny was Tom Cruise, bloated and bald as a profanity shouting studiohead. It's one thing to have funny ideas, but it's another to execute them effectively. Tropic Thunder ended up being a bore.
Summer 2008 has ended, though with studios pushing up release dates for next summer's tentpoles to late April, I only have to wait thirty weeks for the new onslaught of wannabe blockbusters. If we're all very lucky, maybe one or two will approach the intelligence and excitement level of The Dark Knight, which proved that great movies can still be seen during the summer.
The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian: Had The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe not been so enjoyable, I wouldn't be quite so disappointed in this lame follow-up. Any sense of awe and wonder from the original quickly vanished in a story that offered no originality. It was poorly paced, inexpertly acted (to be polite), and lacked a memorable villain. The source material for Prince Caspian simply wasn't very interesting, though it proved an intellectual masterpiece compared with . . .
Mamma Mia: Look, I'm aware I was hardly the target audience. But the filmmakers still owe some level of competency to filmgoers don't they? The summer's worst film was an embarassment, from a non-existent plot to Pierce Brosnan's singing to Christine Baranski's successful attempt to prove she's the most annoying actress currently working. Steep and Seyfried were appealing, but the absence of anything resembling style or wit was pathetic. We didn't even find out who the father is! It's as if the director was thinking "Hmm, there's really nothing to this story. Maybe I should insert 78 songs to fill the running time." I'm still waiting for a refund on my admission tickets and popcorn.
Theatrical adaptations have proven a mixed bag over the years, as have film adaptations from television. This summer gave us three uninspired attempts. It's not that any of them were outright awful. They just weren't especially memorable, which has typically been the case with a few notable exceptions (The Fugitive, The Untouchables, The Simpsons Movie come to mind). The biggest drop-off in quality this summer belonged to . . .
Sex and the City: I wouldn't describe myself as a closet fan by any means, though I can readily admit that the t.v. series was well-written and often funny. But the movie just didn't have a story worth telling. The dialogue lacked the punch of the show, as the men were written as 1-dimensional beings, while the four primary actresses came off as self-absorbed and somewhat pathetic. I must admit though, seeing the film in a packed theater was quite the experience. I counted 7 men in attendance, at least 5 of whom were gay, leaving me and one other guy on a date feeling thankful that most women aren't like Carrie and company. (They aren't right?) Then again like Mamma Mia, I know this movie wasn't aimed at me. A couple that were included . . .
The Incredible Hulk: I admit it was better than Ang Lee's Hulk, which turned off almost everyone when it was released in June 2003. Ironically though, despite higher ticket prices, the newest version failed to match the box-office totals of it's predecessor, making one wonder just how commercially viable the character is. In an important casting change, Edward Norton was far more interesting than the relatively bland Eric Bana had been as Bruce Banner. But Liv Tyler and William Hurt (can you say paycheck role?) brought nothing new and made me wish Jennifer Connelly and Sam Elliot had reprised their roles. The most valuable attribute this time around was the visual effects, probably the coolest of the summer, though upon reflection they stood out most because of the lack of a plot to hold everything together.
Get Smart: Another movie that was too fun to be called bad, but far too jumbled to rate as good. The leads (Carell and Hathaway) were very likeable, though they surely didn't make older audiences forget Don Adams. And for younger audiences, the movie came across as Austin Powers-lite. The biggest problem with Get Smart was it's indecision as to whether it was an action movie or a comedy. There were large elements of both, but neither was strong enough to truly satisfy, leaving this viewer underwhelmed once the credits rolled. But Get Smart did lead me to a theory that has stuck well since . . .
COMEDY AND VIOLENCE DO NOT MIX! As proof, look no further than these two late summer entries;
Pineapple Express and Tropic Thunder: The former was a wonderfully funny buddy picture until the final third when humor was abandoned in favor of gunfire and explosions, which left me wondering what the hell happened to the pithy bantar that had ruled the film's opening? Excessive violence is rarely funny in comedies and often seems to indicate that the writer has run out of ideas. Tropic Thunder pushed the envelope further by providing nearly two hours of bloody brutality following an opening that featured hysterical fake ads and trailers. The movie's funniest scene was also it's most offensive, a promo for Simple Jack, with Ben Stiller galavanting about as a helpless retarded yokel. Unfortunately, little else in the film made me laugh, as each subsequent scene drew closer and closer to a remake of Apocalypse Now. Also unfunny was Tom Cruise, bloated and bald as a profanity shouting studiohead. It's one thing to have funny ideas, but it's another to execute them effectively. Tropic Thunder ended up being a bore.
Summer 2008 has ended, though with studios pushing up release dates for next summer's tentpoles to late April, I only have to wait thirty weeks for the new onslaught of wannabe blockbusters. If we're all very lucky, maybe one or two will approach the intelligence and excitement level of The Dark Knight, which proved that great movies can still be seen during the summer.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Ohio: A World Apart
Remember when Brandon and Brenda moved from Minneapolis to Beverly Hills? (Forgive the analogy to a fictional event that happened almost 2 decades ago, but the series premiere of the “new” 90210 airs tonight, and I am positively giddy). They had no friends and relatively no clue about life in this sunny paradise. They figured they had to forget their Midwestern sensibilities, their small town roots, and their amiable methods of interaction. After all, they were moving to a big city filled with glitz, money, trendy clothes, and spoiled snobs. To their credit, they remained pretty grounded and eventually rubbed off on their new circle of friends, making each of them better people in the process. However, this was television, and the Walsh’s transition was more or less wrapped up in an hour. Reality is a little trickier, especially when the destinations are reversed. I feel like I’ve just moved back to Minneapolis.
Though I’ve only been in Stow, Ohio a couple of weeks, I’ve noticed several changes from living in Boston. The number of fast food restaurants is astounding! I’m pretty sure I’ve passed more Burger Kings than gas stations. Also, it seems rare to find a top flight, fancy restaurant, as opposed to say a Chili’s or Applebee’s. Not to seem condescending, as I’m sure to many a steak from Outback constitutes fine dining on a Saturday night, but I miss the offerings of the South End, the North End, and all the best steakhouses and sushi in between. Still, none of that accounts for friendly service. On a recent dinner visit to Texas Roadhouse (a surprisingly good chain), my girlfriend and I were told we’d have at least a thirty minute wait. Imagine our surprise then at being called to sit 3 minutes later. We weren’t even ready, since I was busy cracking peanut shells from the gigantic barrel they made available to patrons in the waiting area. Our waitress was among the nicest of all-time, sincerely recommending the best items on the menu and later apologizing for our food taking too long. We hadn’t even complained! Major points for customer service, I must admit.
Life in Boston was certainly faster paced, and in a sick way I miss several of the things I used to complain about, such as the police sirens that frequently raced by our living room after midnight. I enjoy noise at night, because it makes you feel that life is exciting. Something is going on, even if you’re not a direct participant. I miss the cabs that are always there to get you home when you’re inebriated. I don’t miss the traffic per se, though I do miss driving down Dartmouth St. with Cleary’s and Appleton Bakery to my left, blocks of endless Brownstones to my right, and Tremont St. straight ahead, not to mention Copley Square in my rearview. I miss walking to and from the bank and post-office. I miss having a stocked liquor store within a block of my apartment. I even miss Blade Barbershop, where Albert and a team of admittedly too friendly barbers would smile at me when I walked through the front door. Say what you will about the South End, Ogunquit Beach, and Provincetown, but they sure do make you feel welcome. At the same time though, I don’t miss street cleaning. I don’t miss the tickets or the meter maids. I don’t miss the tow zones or construction sites or resident parking stickers. And I don’t miss how people pretend they’re from out-of-town every day at 5pm when merging at an off-ramp from a lane that didn’t even exist, cell phones glued to their ears.
I miss the sports scene and unfortunately, that will not change. I miss the Boston Globe and Bob Ryan. I miss hearing endless radio banter focusing on the attitude of Bill Belichick, the strategy of Terry Francona, and the maturation of Rajon Rondo. I miss the smells of Fenway and the talk of titles. Fine, I’m an arrogant Mass-Hole when it comes to sports, but you know what . . . I’ve earned the right to be. Our success during the past 7 years has been mind-blowing, so it’s unlikely anything in Ohio will compare, though I’ve been told I must see a Buckeye’s football game live. But regarding the professional ranks, the intensity just doesn’t seem to be there. Strolling through a supermarket in Akron, I caught a brief glimpse of the Cleveland/Pittsburgh rivalry when a local approached a young man wearing a Steelers shirt. I believe his exact words were, “Be careful wearing that in here, heh heh heh,” followed by a playful smile and a pat on the back. He reminded me of the dope working on Alan Stanwyk’s plane in ‘Fletch,’ who liked to kid him when he asked, “Whatr you doin sum stuntflyin er something?” When I walked into a Verizon store sporting my Celtics championship tee-shirt, I wasn’t greeted with taunts or Yankee-like “you got lucky’s.” Rather, the two guys behind the counter were impressed that I actually attended game 7 in Boston and were jealous I got to see Lebron and Pierce in head-to-head action. They were fans, but their words lacked even a hint of resentment.
I love the prices. Gas is cheaper, food is cheaper, cable and internet are cheaper, and rent is much cheaper. Inexplicably though, home phone service is far more expensive, the one financial anomaly I have yet to figure out. The movies are cheaper and the local AMC theatre even offers $5 tickets all day on Mondays, including free popcorn. For those of you keeping score, that’s less than half of what a ticket at Loews on the Common charges. Of course, there are drawbacks to the low cost. There is no stadium seating or digital projection screen or IMAX experience where the surround sound threatens to crack one’s eardrums. One area where we’ve undoubtedly found more bang for our buck is car repair service. On the drive from Boston to Ohio, my girlfriend’s car died about 90 minutes from our final destination. When the tow guy arrived, he didn’t groan or complain about wearing long sleeves in the same scorching sun that had forced us to find shade. He smiled as he worked, jokingly asking me if I was ready to push the car for him. He asked my girlfriend what she was studying in graduate school and didn’t even pretend to know what Audiology was, innocently choosing to ask instead. In his place, I undoubtedly would’ve been nodding in false understanding, uttering bullshit responses like “sure,” and “of course.” Once we made it to the auto-shop, we explained our dilemma and after flexing a little big city attitude (it comes in handy for some things), the mechanic agreed to take a quick peak at her car. He instantly knew it needed a new battery, and scratched his head while wondering if she had the right kind of battery for her car in the first place (she’s had the car for 8 years). He suggested we wait in the cool office and help ourselves to some coffee while he searched for a replacement part. He was efficient and courteous, the battery was cheap, and the whole detour took no more than an hour, a relief since we thought our arrival would be postponed until at least the following day.
The tow guy and mechanic had been like a breath of fresh air, which accurately describes most of the strangers I’ve encountered here. I’m not quite used to random people saying hello to me yet (I keep expecting them to ask me a favor), but in a way it’s nicer than passing me by with total indifference. The waitresses and hostesses, the convenient store clerks and mailmen, the bank tellers and librarians, all seem cut from the same cloth. Even those guys from Verizon had been jovial and patient in the midst of a storewide computer malfunction (I’d never before dealt with friendly customer service at a cell phone store). During a similar computer crash at the local DMV, an employee announced aloud the problem and encouraged us to come back at a later time. I was blown away by this. While it certainly seemed logical and the neighborly thing to do, I can’t imagine an employee from the DMV in Watertown, MA raising her voice over the crowd to alert us with this crucial information. Isn’t it more likely we’d all be left walking in circles, sighing, and eventually swearing as the 30 minute wait became an hour, than 2 hours, and so on?
All things considered, life in Ohio has been pretty solid. I miss my family and my friends, but it’s like not moving in 1978. In an age where email and cell phones are as integral a part of daily life as food and sleep, it’s easy to stay in touch. And given the nature of the majority of folks in this area, I predict our transition will continue to be a smooth one. I even called an elderly woman “Ma’am” the other day while holding a door open. I suppose these small-town Walsh’s are rubbing off on me.
Though I’ve only been in Stow, Ohio a couple of weeks, I’ve noticed several changes from living in Boston. The number of fast food restaurants is astounding! I’m pretty sure I’ve passed more Burger Kings than gas stations. Also, it seems rare to find a top flight, fancy restaurant, as opposed to say a Chili’s or Applebee’s. Not to seem condescending, as I’m sure to many a steak from Outback constitutes fine dining on a Saturday night, but I miss the offerings of the South End, the North End, and all the best steakhouses and sushi in between. Still, none of that accounts for friendly service. On a recent dinner visit to Texas Roadhouse (a surprisingly good chain), my girlfriend and I were told we’d have at least a thirty minute wait. Imagine our surprise then at being called to sit 3 minutes later. We weren’t even ready, since I was busy cracking peanut shells from the gigantic barrel they made available to patrons in the waiting area. Our waitress was among the nicest of all-time, sincerely recommending the best items on the menu and later apologizing for our food taking too long. We hadn’t even complained! Major points for customer service, I must admit.
Life in Boston was certainly faster paced, and in a sick way I miss several of the things I used to complain about, such as the police sirens that frequently raced by our living room after midnight. I enjoy noise at night, because it makes you feel that life is exciting. Something is going on, even if you’re not a direct participant. I miss the cabs that are always there to get you home when you’re inebriated. I don’t miss the traffic per se, though I do miss driving down Dartmouth St. with Cleary’s and Appleton Bakery to my left, blocks of endless Brownstones to my right, and Tremont St. straight ahead, not to mention Copley Square in my rearview. I miss walking to and from the bank and post-office. I miss having a stocked liquor store within a block of my apartment. I even miss Blade Barbershop, where Albert and a team of admittedly too friendly barbers would smile at me when I walked through the front door. Say what you will about the South End, Ogunquit Beach, and Provincetown, but they sure do make you feel welcome. At the same time though, I don’t miss street cleaning. I don’t miss the tickets or the meter maids. I don’t miss the tow zones or construction sites or resident parking stickers. And I don’t miss how people pretend they’re from out-of-town every day at 5pm when merging at an off-ramp from a lane that didn’t even exist, cell phones glued to their ears.
I miss the sports scene and unfortunately, that will not change. I miss the Boston Globe and Bob Ryan. I miss hearing endless radio banter focusing on the attitude of Bill Belichick, the strategy of Terry Francona, and the maturation of Rajon Rondo. I miss the smells of Fenway and the talk of titles. Fine, I’m an arrogant Mass-Hole when it comes to sports, but you know what . . . I’ve earned the right to be. Our success during the past 7 years has been mind-blowing, so it’s unlikely anything in Ohio will compare, though I’ve been told I must see a Buckeye’s football game live. But regarding the professional ranks, the intensity just doesn’t seem to be there. Strolling through a supermarket in Akron, I caught a brief glimpse of the Cleveland/Pittsburgh rivalry when a local approached a young man wearing a Steelers shirt. I believe his exact words were, “Be careful wearing that in here, heh heh heh,” followed by a playful smile and a pat on the back. He reminded me of the dope working on Alan Stanwyk’s plane in ‘Fletch,’ who liked to kid him when he asked, “Whatr you doin sum stuntflyin er something?” When I walked into a Verizon store sporting my Celtics championship tee-shirt, I wasn’t greeted with taunts or Yankee-like “you got lucky’s.” Rather, the two guys behind the counter were impressed that I actually attended game 7 in Boston and were jealous I got to see Lebron and Pierce in head-to-head action. They were fans, but their words lacked even a hint of resentment.
I love the prices. Gas is cheaper, food is cheaper, cable and internet are cheaper, and rent is much cheaper. Inexplicably though, home phone service is far more expensive, the one financial anomaly I have yet to figure out. The movies are cheaper and the local AMC theatre even offers $5 tickets all day on Mondays, including free popcorn. For those of you keeping score, that’s less than half of what a ticket at Loews on the Common charges. Of course, there are drawbacks to the low cost. There is no stadium seating or digital projection screen or IMAX experience where the surround sound threatens to crack one’s eardrums. One area where we’ve undoubtedly found more bang for our buck is car repair service. On the drive from Boston to Ohio, my girlfriend’s car died about 90 minutes from our final destination. When the tow guy arrived, he didn’t groan or complain about wearing long sleeves in the same scorching sun that had forced us to find shade. He smiled as he worked, jokingly asking me if I was ready to push the car for him. He asked my girlfriend what she was studying in graduate school and didn’t even pretend to know what Audiology was, innocently choosing to ask instead. In his place, I undoubtedly would’ve been nodding in false understanding, uttering bullshit responses like “sure,” and “of course.” Once we made it to the auto-shop, we explained our dilemma and after flexing a little big city attitude (it comes in handy for some things), the mechanic agreed to take a quick peak at her car. He instantly knew it needed a new battery, and scratched his head while wondering if she had the right kind of battery for her car in the first place (she’s had the car for 8 years). He suggested we wait in the cool office and help ourselves to some coffee while he searched for a replacement part. He was efficient and courteous, the battery was cheap, and the whole detour took no more than an hour, a relief since we thought our arrival would be postponed until at least the following day.
The tow guy and mechanic had been like a breath of fresh air, which accurately describes most of the strangers I’ve encountered here. I’m not quite used to random people saying hello to me yet (I keep expecting them to ask me a favor), but in a way it’s nicer than passing me by with total indifference. The waitresses and hostesses, the convenient store clerks and mailmen, the bank tellers and librarians, all seem cut from the same cloth. Even those guys from Verizon had been jovial and patient in the midst of a storewide computer malfunction (I’d never before dealt with friendly customer service at a cell phone store). During a similar computer crash at the local DMV, an employee announced aloud the problem and encouraged us to come back at a later time. I was blown away by this. While it certainly seemed logical and the neighborly thing to do, I can’t imagine an employee from the DMV in Watertown, MA raising her voice over the crowd to alert us with this crucial information. Isn’t it more likely we’d all be left walking in circles, sighing, and eventually swearing as the 30 minute wait became an hour, than 2 hours, and so on?
All things considered, life in Ohio has been pretty solid. I miss my family and my friends, but it’s like not moving in 1978. In an age where email and cell phones are as integral a part of daily life as food and sleep, it’s easy to stay in touch. And given the nature of the majority of folks in this area, I predict our transition will continue to be a smooth one. I even called an elderly woman “Ma’am” the other day while holding a door open. I suppose these small-town Walsh’s are rubbing off on me.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Gone Manny Gone
Manny Ramirez was born to hit a baseball. It's a skill many proclaim the toughest in all of sports. I can't argue since a .300 average is considered a mark of excellence. Manny has been remarkably consistent and productive, reaching a level in which 40 home runs and 100 RBIs is considered an off year for the right-handed slugger. I remember one regular season at-bat at Fenway in particular. I was sitting behind home plate as Manny walked to the batter's box. On his first pitch he hammered a line drive foul to shallow right field, nearly decapitating a fan. Strike 1. He hit the second pitch even harder, this time to deep right, landing just inches to the right of the Pesky Pole. Strike 2. It all seemed to transpire in slow motion, like watching a film director inching closer and closer to finding the perfect shot, making tiny adjustments each time. I turned to my Dad and said confidently, "This one's gone." The third pitch left his bat in the blink of an eye, landing 400 plus feet away in dead center. We stood with the 35,000 in attendance and applauded like maniacs, not only because he delivered yet again, but because we knew he was no ordinary hitter. Manny was the new millenium's answer to Teddy Ballgame, Yaz, Fisk, Rice, and Boggs. This guy was special.
Unfortunately, as we'd come to find over the next several years, Manny had as much in common with Albert Belle, Ron Artest, Terrell Owens, Barry Bonds, Derrick Coleman (insert your favorite malcontent) as with the greats of Red Sox past. He was a team cancer. You would think twenty million annually, not to mention endless praise from fans and writers, always quick to forgive his shortcomings, would be enough to keep Manny happy. No dice. How about being part of a team that contends every year and has won two World Series in the past four years? Nope. Hell, an asinine phrase was even created in Manny's honor, sort of a local in-joke proclaiming that while he's an idiot, he's our idiot. Ultimately, the Sox had enough of "Manny being Manny." It's hard to blame them.
One senses Ramirez's teammates were sick of him as well. Manny has been uncommonly vocal the last few weeks, speaking to the press about moving on, being sick of the management, almost challenging the Red Sox to win without him. Rumors spread that he was making injury excuses beyond the norm, even for him. His output has been below par, leading many to question his desire and willingness to compete, something a professional athlete should never lose. I suspect the Lowells, Youks, and Variteks finally put their collective foot down. How else to explain the deal Boston ultimately agreed to? Sure, they got a solid player back in new left fielder Jason Bay. But they agreed to pay the remaining seven million of Manny's 2008 contract to the Dodgers, a team not exactly hurting for cash. They also gave up youngsters Craig Hansen and Brandon Moss in the deal. I know they weren't going to get fair value for Ramirez, but just Manny for Bay straight up would've been one-sided. The added conditions indicate Sox management made up their minds that Manny was going no matter what opposing teams demanded in return. At least they didn't pull a Green Bay and offer him an extra twenty million to retire.
Are the Sox a better team without Manny? On paper, of course not. You don't replace his offensive production unless you get an A-Rod, or Pujols, or Ryan Howard back in return. But in terms of chemistry, (the most underrated element in any successful ball club), maybe they are better. Don't forget, the Sox won the 2004 World Series only after trading fan favorite Nomar Garciaparra, an unpopular move that landed them Orlando Cabrera and Doug Mientkiewicz. The former two-time batting champion had at the time been pouting over his contract until he wore out his welcome in Boston. After that first champagne-soaked celebration, I don't think anyone was complaining.
Give the Sox some credit. They seem to know when it's time to say goodbye. When they refused to give an aging Pedro Martinez the kind of deal he was looking for, Pedro bolted to New York. They correctly assessed that Johnny Damon wasn't the player he once was either when refusing to break the bank for the former center fielder. Anyone want to challenge those decisions now? Manny's play has been in slow decline the last couple years, but by all accounts, money didn't decide this one. Neither did talent. Yes, he's overpaid. True, the Sox lineup isn't anywhere near as imposing without the 3-4 punch of Ortiz and Ramirez. But sometimes in sports, you add by subtracting.
Manny had fought with his teammates. He'd tripped over his own two feet in left. He'd consistently trotted to first when he should've been sprinting. He'd openly remarked about how nice it'd be to play for the Yankees! He'd criticized the front office and anyone who makes decisions, which angers me since I can't imagine any manager being more patient with him than Terry Francona has been. He even put his hands on the traveling secretary for failing to comply with a ridiculous ticket request. In any other field, Ramirez would've been fired on the spot for the last offense. Manny took dozens of questionable days off, even in big series over the years. He'd retreated to the green monster between innings of several games to take a leak, call his homeys, order pizza, check his email, smoke some dope, read the National Inquirer, take a nap, have sex, get a haircut, chug a beer, visit Avalon, change his screensaver, phone WEEI's Weiner Whiner Line, and practice his chest pump and point to the sky routine.
Maybe Henry, Werner, Lucchino, and Theo woke up this morning with a clearer collective conscience. Maybe the players finally felt loose again, knowing it will once again be a pleasure to go to work. Maybe JBay (any chance that nickname catches on?) will be the spark we are looking for, a hard worker who will run out ground balls and help plug the large gap in the middle of the batting order. If the Sox fall further in the standings and fail to make the playoffs, everyone will attack the decision to trade Ramirez. But if they get hot, leapfrog Tampa, and find themselves with homefield advantage in a third World Series appearance, will anyone complain?
Manny is gone, but the Sox are still here. Whose side are you on?
Unfortunately, as we'd come to find over the next several years, Manny had as much in common with Albert Belle, Ron Artest, Terrell Owens, Barry Bonds, Derrick Coleman (insert your favorite malcontent) as with the greats of Red Sox past. He was a team cancer. You would think twenty million annually, not to mention endless praise from fans and writers, always quick to forgive his shortcomings, would be enough to keep Manny happy. No dice. How about being part of a team that contends every year and has won two World Series in the past four years? Nope. Hell, an asinine phrase was even created in Manny's honor, sort of a local in-joke proclaiming that while he's an idiot, he's our idiot. Ultimately, the Sox had enough of "Manny being Manny." It's hard to blame them.
One senses Ramirez's teammates were sick of him as well. Manny has been uncommonly vocal the last few weeks, speaking to the press about moving on, being sick of the management, almost challenging the Red Sox to win without him. Rumors spread that he was making injury excuses beyond the norm, even for him. His output has been below par, leading many to question his desire and willingness to compete, something a professional athlete should never lose. I suspect the Lowells, Youks, and Variteks finally put their collective foot down. How else to explain the deal Boston ultimately agreed to? Sure, they got a solid player back in new left fielder Jason Bay. But they agreed to pay the remaining seven million of Manny's 2008 contract to the Dodgers, a team not exactly hurting for cash. They also gave up youngsters Craig Hansen and Brandon Moss in the deal. I know they weren't going to get fair value for Ramirez, but just Manny for Bay straight up would've been one-sided. The added conditions indicate Sox management made up their minds that Manny was going no matter what opposing teams demanded in return. At least they didn't pull a Green Bay and offer him an extra twenty million to retire.
Are the Sox a better team without Manny? On paper, of course not. You don't replace his offensive production unless you get an A-Rod, or Pujols, or Ryan Howard back in return. But in terms of chemistry, (the most underrated element in any successful ball club), maybe they are better. Don't forget, the Sox won the 2004 World Series only after trading fan favorite Nomar Garciaparra, an unpopular move that landed them Orlando Cabrera and Doug Mientkiewicz. The former two-time batting champion had at the time been pouting over his contract until he wore out his welcome in Boston. After that first champagne-soaked celebration, I don't think anyone was complaining.
Give the Sox some credit. They seem to know when it's time to say goodbye. When they refused to give an aging Pedro Martinez the kind of deal he was looking for, Pedro bolted to New York. They correctly assessed that Johnny Damon wasn't the player he once was either when refusing to break the bank for the former center fielder. Anyone want to challenge those decisions now? Manny's play has been in slow decline the last couple years, but by all accounts, money didn't decide this one. Neither did talent. Yes, he's overpaid. True, the Sox lineup isn't anywhere near as imposing without the 3-4 punch of Ortiz and Ramirez. But sometimes in sports, you add by subtracting.
Manny had fought with his teammates. He'd tripped over his own two feet in left. He'd consistently trotted to first when he should've been sprinting. He'd openly remarked about how nice it'd be to play for the Yankees! He'd criticized the front office and anyone who makes decisions, which angers me since I can't imagine any manager being more patient with him than Terry Francona has been. He even put his hands on the traveling secretary for failing to comply with a ridiculous ticket request. In any other field, Ramirez would've been fired on the spot for the last offense. Manny took dozens of questionable days off, even in big series over the years. He'd retreated to the green monster between innings of several games to take a leak, call his homeys, order pizza, check his email, smoke some dope, read the National Inquirer, take a nap, have sex, get a haircut, chug a beer, visit Avalon, change his screensaver, phone WEEI's Weiner Whiner Line, and practice his chest pump and point to the sky routine.
Maybe Henry, Werner, Lucchino, and Theo woke up this morning with a clearer collective conscience. Maybe the players finally felt loose again, knowing it will once again be a pleasure to go to work. Maybe JBay (any chance that nickname catches on?) will be the spark we are looking for, a hard worker who will run out ground balls and help plug the large gap in the middle of the batting order. If the Sox fall further in the standings and fail to make the playoffs, everyone will attack the decision to trade Ramirez. But if they get hot, leapfrog Tampa, and find themselves with homefield advantage in a third World Series appearance, will anyone complain?
Manny is gone, but the Sox are still here. Whose side are you on?
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Committment Isn't Always a Bad Thing
Last night was the 5 year anniversary of our 1st date. That’s half-a-decade or a whopping 1,825 days together. Have I committed to anything else in my life for that long? Sure, there’s my family, my love for movies and basketball, great friendships; but in a way those all come with the territory. You are born into your family, you choose hobbies at a very young age, and you make friends with those who live near or attend the same school. Hell, often you become friends with whomever your mom sticks you with on a play-date. A long-term, adult relationship is different, because you are making an independent, personal choice. You pick a girl you like to look at, you smile like an idiot at her, and you go out on a date. Booze doesn’t even have to be a factor if you’re really interested in someone.
Our 1st date was on July 2nd, 2003. Admittedly, my initial excitement that day had a lot more to do with the release of Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines, the third film in the classic Arnold Schwarzenegger series. My girlfriend and I were working at a summer camp in Maine and that night several of my friends were going to see T3 at Chunky’s, a cheap near-by movie theater distinguished for its leather seats, tables, and full menu, including drinks. Prior to that evening, she and I had done a little flirting here and there, but nothing serious had developed. I invited her to join us that night, news that quickly spread like a wild-fire (hey, it’s summer camp), mostly through my chatty younger brother, who saw a golden opportunity in the making. I had thought we’d all be driving as a group in a couple of cars. Instead, my brother made sure they were all long gone by the time my girlfriend’s shift ended, forcing us to drive separately to meet them all at the movies. Moments like this embarrass me, and he knew it when he saw my half-smiling, flushed cheeks enter the theater.
Needless to say the movie sucked, a huge disappointment since T2 was one of the best action movies ever made. She ended up falling asleep in her cozy chair around the one hour mark, teaching me the invaluable lesson that it’s better to pick an activity both of us might enjoy rather than just me. I also learned that she’s an “early-to-bed, early-to-rise” person, or the exact opposite of me. Still, I’ve managed to forget this on at least 25 occasions since, always wondering why she can’t finish watching something we start after 9pm. When the movie ended I woke her up and she had a cute, sheepish smile once she realized she’d been snoozing for an hour. We hung out at camp late that night, just talking and getting to know one another. She’s an only child from Louisiana, and I’m the oldest of three from Boston. But despite many background differences, I knew one thing for sure by July 3rd . . . I liked her, a lot. She was pretty and smart, cool and fun, with an immature sense of humor that has nearly proved my equal. We had a great summer, one destined to end like most others. Unsure whether she would truly hear from me again, she was surprised to hear her phone ring a few hours later at the airport. I had called just to say hi and see how she was doing. To this day, that’s probably the best phone call I ever made in my life.
We did long distance for a while, visiting one another every couple months, and sharing late night phone calls until 3 or 4 am. The following June she moved to Boston, and the rest as they say, is history. We’ve lived all over the place, from Arlington to Newton to Brighton to The South End. But in August, we will make our biggest move, to Akron, Ohio. She got into graduate school there for Audiology (She’s going to be a doctor. How smart am I?) Honestly, it was not an overnight decision to move with her. I’d be leaving my family, my friends, and my job contacts for a town most people only know Lebron James’ home. But in the end, leaving all of that wouldn’t be as hard as leaving her.
When you get to be my age (27), life forces you to start thinking about the big picture, never my forte. I generally try to avoid all big decisions; they scare me and I’m more comfortable living day to day. They also force you to grow up faster, and anyone who knows me well understands that under this hair covered face, I’m really 15. I still love Dumb and Dumber and Happy Gilmore and I don’t give a rat’s ass about politics. I would choose a double-cheeseburger over a salad almost any day, despite knowing the calorie count. I’d rather hang out at a mall or visit Six flags then go to a park or a museum. Many of the situations that make me laugh the hardest are so inappropriate I dare not print them here. Still, I’m old enough to know I love someone. Those feelings come without doubt and have only grown stronger over the last several years, to the point that I’m comfortable writing about them in a forum read by friends (and brothers) who will undoubtedly make fun of me. But I don’t care.
Last night to celebrate we had dinner at Top of the Hub, a fancy restaurant located on the 52nd floor atop the Prudential. If there’s a better view in the city, I haven’t found it. We ate and we drank and we talked, which amazingly never grows tiresome after 45 million conversations. It was undoubtedly one of the best nights of my life, and a significant step up from $5.00 tickets to see Arnold take on a female terminator. I think it’s safe to say that if our next five years together are anything like our last five, life will have been pretty damn good to me.
Happy Anniversary Mush
Our 1st date was on July 2nd, 2003. Admittedly, my initial excitement that day had a lot more to do with the release of Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines, the third film in the classic Arnold Schwarzenegger series. My girlfriend and I were working at a summer camp in Maine and that night several of my friends were going to see T3 at Chunky’s, a cheap near-by movie theater distinguished for its leather seats, tables, and full menu, including drinks. Prior to that evening, she and I had done a little flirting here and there, but nothing serious had developed. I invited her to join us that night, news that quickly spread like a wild-fire (hey, it’s summer camp), mostly through my chatty younger brother, who saw a golden opportunity in the making. I had thought we’d all be driving as a group in a couple of cars. Instead, my brother made sure they were all long gone by the time my girlfriend’s shift ended, forcing us to drive separately to meet them all at the movies. Moments like this embarrass me, and he knew it when he saw my half-smiling, flushed cheeks enter the theater.
Needless to say the movie sucked, a huge disappointment since T2 was one of the best action movies ever made. She ended up falling asleep in her cozy chair around the one hour mark, teaching me the invaluable lesson that it’s better to pick an activity both of us might enjoy rather than just me. I also learned that she’s an “early-to-bed, early-to-rise” person, or the exact opposite of me. Still, I’ve managed to forget this on at least 25 occasions since, always wondering why she can’t finish watching something we start after 9pm. When the movie ended I woke her up and she had a cute, sheepish smile once she realized she’d been snoozing for an hour. We hung out at camp late that night, just talking and getting to know one another. She’s an only child from Louisiana, and I’m the oldest of three from Boston. But despite many background differences, I knew one thing for sure by July 3rd . . . I liked her, a lot. She was pretty and smart, cool and fun, with an immature sense of humor that has nearly proved my equal. We had a great summer, one destined to end like most others. Unsure whether she would truly hear from me again, she was surprised to hear her phone ring a few hours later at the airport. I had called just to say hi and see how she was doing. To this day, that’s probably the best phone call I ever made in my life.
We did long distance for a while, visiting one another every couple months, and sharing late night phone calls until 3 or 4 am. The following June she moved to Boston, and the rest as they say, is history. We’ve lived all over the place, from Arlington to Newton to Brighton to The South End. But in August, we will make our biggest move, to Akron, Ohio. She got into graduate school there for Audiology (She’s going to be a doctor. How smart am I?) Honestly, it was not an overnight decision to move with her. I’d be leaving my family, my friends, and my job contacts for a town most people only know Lebron James’ home. But in the end, leaving all of that wouldn’t be as hard as leaving her.
When you get to be my age (27), life forces you to start thinking about the big picture, never my forte. I generally try to avoid all big decisions; they scare me and I’m more comfortable living day to day. They also force you to grow up faster, and anyone who knows me well understands that under this hair covered face, I’m really 15. I still love Dumb and Dumber and Happy Gilmore and I don’t give a rat’s ass about politics. I would choose a double-cheeseburger over a salad almost any day, despite knowing the calorie count. I’d rather hang out at a mall or visit Six flags then go to a park or a museum. Many of the situations that make me laugh the hardest are so inappropriate I dare not print them here. Still, I’m old enough to know I love someone. Those feelings come without doubt and have only grown stronger over the last several years, to the point that I’m comfortable writing about them in a forum read by friends (and brothers) who will undoubtedly make fun of me. But I don’t care.
Last night to celebrate we had dinner at Top of the Hub, a fancy restaurant located on the 52nd floor atop the Prudential. If there’s a better view in the city, I haven’t found it. We ate and we drank and we talked, which amazingly never grows tiresome after 45 million conversations. It was undoubtedly one of the best nights of my life, and a significant step up from $5.00 tickets to see Arnold take on a female terminator. I think it’s safe to say that if our next five years together are anything like our last five, life will have been pretty damn good to me.
Happy Anniversary Mush
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