"I Loved It!", "I Hated It!"

A couple weeks ago, my wife and her friend went to Matt Damon's new movie "The Informant!". I told her that the reviews for it were excellent and she was able to convince her friend to go along with her. I returned from work one afternoon and listened as she told me that "it was terrible...but you might like it". I seriously doubted it was terrible, not with a Tomatometer reading over 70%, not from the director of Erin Brockovich and Ocean's 11 (as well as its sequels).

I finally had the opportunity to see it yesterday afternoon and found it to be very good; I chuckled a great deal as the story unfolded. One of the most amusing things was when Damon (as the narrator) would make statements to himself that had nothing to do with what was onscreen. Here is one of my favorites:

Mark Whitacre: Polar bears cover their noses before they pounce on a seal. How do polar bears know their noses are black? Did they look in the water one day, see their reflection and say, "Man, I'd be invisible if it wasn't for that thing."

I was mystified at how others could say that it wasn't good. It's like we literally saw different movies. My wife and her friend also didn't care for "(500) Days of Summer" which I absolutely adored.



Could it be they were expecting a standard romantic comedy while I knew it had an unconventional narrative and didn't necessarily end happily? I've been a fan for more than a decade of quirky, offbeat films while others may prefer the cookie-cutter pleasures of action movies and chick flicks.

That's why when someone says "That was an awesome movie!", it might help to know what their five favorite movies of all-time are. If "Transformers" is on their list, steer clear. At least I would, as that person's taste doesn't match up at all with my own. Call me crazy, but I like to see something unique when I go to the movie theatre, not the same ol' formulaic garbage.

BTW, in a nod to "Team America", when I went up to the box-office attendant yesterday, all I said was "Matt Damon" in the exact same way that it is said in these scenes.

I Wanna Catch Somethin'

A co-worker of mine got a flu shot yesterday. Being that she has asthma, I don't blame her. She said she's gonna make her husband get one as well since she doesn't want to catch something from him. Poor guy. I've noted before that I don't get the flu shot, that I prefer to take my chances and see what it gets me. I've been very fortunate in that (as I've also noted) I rarely get sick. I recently heard it said that getting sick encourages one to look inward, to be reflective, to temporarily be free of the daily business of life. If that's the case, then I'm really missing the boat. Anyone got any viruses you can send me that might help me grow spiritually? Cuz if getting sick helps one learn to overcome, I ain't learnin' shit.

I actually believe that all illness is self-created (at some level). Here's a quote from my favorite book in regards to this:

"Now let's understand what you probably already know: all illness is self-created. Even conventional medical doctors are now seeing how people make themselves sick.
Most people do so quite unconsciously. (They don't even know what they're doing.) So when they get sick, they don't know what hit them. It feels as though something has befallen them, rather than that they did something to themselves.
This occurs because most people move through life—not simply health issues and consequences—unconsciously.
People smoke and wonder why they get cancer.
People ingest animals and fat and wonder why they get blocked arteries.
People stay angry all their lives and wonder why they get heart attacks.
People compete with other people—mercilessly and under incredible stress—and wonder why they have strokes.
The not-so-obvious truth is that most people worry themselves to death.
Worry is just about the worst form of mental activity there is—next to hate, which is deeply self destructive.

Worry is pointless. It is wasted mental energy. It also creates bio-chemical reactions which harm the body, producing everything from indigestion to coronary arrest, and multitude of things in between.
Health will improve almost at once when worrying ends."

My Honeymoon

On August 24th, 1998, my wife-of-less-than-24-hours and I left Illinois and drove to the Milwaukee airport. We both felt great. The wedding was fabulous, but now the time had come for just the two of us to celebrate. We parked the car and began to remove the luggage we'd brought. I'd hoped to bring along my fan to use as white noise at the hotel, but wasn't able to find any room to put it in. Crap, I probably wasn't gonna be able to sleep well without it.

We headed into the airport and waited for our flight to board. Once on the plane, we relaxed. After about 3 hours, we arrived at our destination: sunny Orlando, Florida. We picked up our bags and took a bus to the world famous Walt Disney World Resort. It was getting close to sunset when we arrived at where we would be staying: The Disney All-Star Sports Resort:



We relaxed the rest of that first night, but looked forward to seeing all the sights over the next 6 days. Just like when I went to Disney World with my stepdad in '93 and '94, I utilized the "The Unofficial Guide to Walt Disney World". It gave the best times of day to hit certain rides, the best rides to go on, the best places to eat, etc. It was quite helpful.

We went to all 4 Disney parks while there: the newly opened Animal Kingdom, Disney-MGM Studios, Epcot Center, and, of course, the Magic Kingdom. One of my favorite rides at the Kingdom is Splash Mountain. For pretty much all of our days down there, it was quite hot. High 80's, low 90's, maybe even warmer. Thankfully, some of the attractions were indoors. Each morning, we would go to the All-Star Resort's cafeteria for breakfast. Invariably, I would have two glazed donuts and some Powerade to drink.

One of my favorite parks was Disney-MGM. Why? Well, the 30-foot (life-size) Star Wars AT-AT is one of the coolest things I have ever seen:



the "Indiana Jones Stunt Spectacular" is bitchin', and the brand-new (at that time) Twilight Zone Tower of Terror was also rockin'.

On about our 3rd evening in Florida, we decided to go to Pleasure Island (no, it's not like that, you dirty devils). They have all sorts of cool things there like comedy and dance clubs as well as a gigantic Tower Records. We took one of the Disney buses there. Partway into the ride, my beloved said that she was feeling sick. Luckily, we arrived at our stop a couple minutes later. She got off the bus and immediately vomited on the ground.

She said she wanted to go back to the room and rest, that I should stay and hang out a bit since I was already at the Island. So she returned to home base while I looked around. Vince Gill's new CD had just come out, so I listened to parts of it at the record store. After a while, I grew bored and returned to the hotel. She wasn't in the room; could she be cheating on me already? I assumed that she had most likely gone to get medical treatment. A short time later, I received a call from my wife. She said that she was at the hospital in Celebration, Florida. It's called Celebration Health.

Cool name, innit? If you're deathly sick, they send you to Invigorating Intensive Care; if you're having an acute issue, they ship you to Ecstatic Emergency Care. The docs said she was very dehydrated, gave her an IV, and released her a short time later. She came back later that night.

After going to all 4 Disney parks, we set out to see Universal Studios (we had to rent a car to do so). That evening, after going to the park, we went to one of my all-time favorite restaurants, Steak & Shake. My stepdad had introduced me to it 4 years prior and I loved it. On the way there, though, we experienced a mighty bad thunderstorm. The lightning strikes a lot closer in Florida than up in Minnesota. My girl got mighty scared (this can easily be explained; she was a lightning rod in a past life).

I wound up sleeping just fine without the fan. On our last night in Florida, we went to a big souvenir store in Downtown Disney. We bought a couple shirts and my love bought herself a Mickey Mouse watch. All in all, we had a great honeymoon.

Too Much Skin

Why do people wear jeans that aren't flattering to their ass? I pride myself on wearing pants that show off what I got, but most guys wear their pants in such a way that it's virtually impossible to tell that they have a touchis; women are a bit better in this regard:



It's like, Have a little respect for yourself. Even if you're taken, there's nothing wrong with showing what you got.

Which brings me to chubby people wearing clothes that show off too much of their skin. I'm at a relatively healthy weight, but haven't worn tank tops since Chevy Chase was funny...just kidding, I think he's actually quite amusing on NBC's new show "Community". Clothes were designed for a reason: to obscure the body's largest organ and if you're packing more than 20% body fat, the more covered, the better.

If it's 80 degrees outside, I'm wearing a long-sleeve shirt because most all my day will be spent inside, either at work or during the weekend, at the movie theatre and a restaurant. I recently told a friend of mine that wearing a short-sleeve shirt to Friday's is just plain tacky. And don't even get me started on the fucks who wear flip flops everywhere they go. Sometimes I wish it was winter all year round.

Puppy Power

In the fall of 1998, my newly christened wife said she wanted to get a Saint Bernard. I, being of sound mind and body, was against it. She was unfazed. I said if she brought the pup home, I would divorce her. I guess she didn't believe me as she brought it home, anyway. Below is a bit that she taped of me that night.

The next day, she went to Petco to get supplies for the horse-to-be. The employee she spoke with said to think big, so my wife bought a huge water bowl as well as a gigantic crate. Check out 1:40 of this vid where a 5-pound Saint can be seen taking up about, oh, 5% of her crate.

An Engagement Pic Takes Me Back 16 Years

This past week, my beloved and I have been taking care of a friend's dachshunds. When they dropped the girls off, they also left us some newspapers to put down in case they had to eliminate when we were gone or sleeping. I've not been a subscriber of the local paper for a couple years, so took the opportunity to take a gander at what had been going on in my town of late. Turns out that most of the papers were from June of '08. Talk about sad times; W (or should I say Cheney) was in charge back then. This didn't stop me from perusing a bit while eating lunch a couple days ago.

The first thing I grabbed was the lifestyle section. In it could be found pics of couples who had plans to be married over the summer (to think, they're not even newlyweds any longer). I carefully looked at the last names and found one that I recognized: Stokes. There was only one person I've ever known that has that name; a guy by the name of Ted who was a social worker of sorts for me in 1993. Well, wouldn't you know it. It WAS him. Getting married in his late 30's was somewhat unconventional, but who am I to judge?

Back in '93, I was seeing a psychiatrist who monitored the meds I was taking, a psychologist who I relied on for therapy, and Ted. I forget what his official title was, but his job was to meet with me every couple of weeks and take me somewhere for an hour where we might chat (it differed from traditional therapy in that it was less formal and we actually went outside of the mental health building).

Many times I would opt to go to a fast food joint to have lunch. He didn't always order food for himself as many of his clients throughout the day chose to go to restaurants. It's good he didn't have a problem with people eating in front of him. I recall that he was a big fan of the band Live and Hootie and the Blowfish. It was great to socialize a bit with someone my age (though he was actually getting paid to do so).

One afternoon, I arrived at his office a bit early, so waited out in the hall. I looked up and saw that all of the counselors had their names listed in white letters on a black board (similar to the one pictured below):



I got a wicked idea as I looked at Ted's name. I adjusted a few letters so that his name was listed as "Ted Strokes". I chuckled as he called me in. I did this again a couple weeks later when I saw that his name had been put back to normal. A week after that, as I sat with him, I mentioned that I'd recently seen his name listed on the board as Ted Strokes. He laughed a bit and said that he was aware of the issue.

A few months later, I was well on the road to recovery and no longer needed his services, but seeing his pic sure brought back some memories and for that, I thank you, Master Strokes.

Kanye West Interrupts Obama's Speech

Football

Today is the day that most NFL teams begin their season. I've had a problem of late with the sport being referred to as "football". You want a game in which the foot is used on a much more frequent basis? That would be soccer, which is fittingly named football around the rest of the world (as it should be). What the Vikings and what-not play is rugby as far as I'm concerned.

In high school, I'd frequently bet against my hometown team. My Chem teacher once asked why I did this. I replied,"If the Vikings win, I'm happy and don't mind parting with a few bucks. If they lose, I get some moolah to ease my sorrows".

I'm not as big a fan of the team as in years past. For example, this afternoon, the opposing team made a great stop on one of the Vikings players. I literally cheered as it was a fantastic play; it was irrelevant to me what color uniform the guy who pulled it off happened to be wearing.

An interesting article about fans' overidentifying with their favorite team can be found here. The first paragraph:

"It happens to me every time: I tell myself that it's just a game, that these overpaid basketball superstars don't really have any loyalty to a particular team, place, city, etc., that I really shouldn't care about the outcome of the NBA finals. And yet and yet: despite my self-awareness, I can't help but nervously pace during the 4th quarter, as I watch my Lakers surrender a 24 point lead. (The possessive pronouns of sports fan are so odd, considering that Kobe Bryant made more money in the 4th quarter than I will in the next decade.) And then, after the heartbreaking loss, I'm way too upset to sleep. I have to wait for the adrenaline in my blood to breakdown and for my pulse to return to resting state. It's such an annoying state of being, mostly because I know that my mild and meaningless suffering is a complete waste of emotion."

Earlier this decade, I went to a Vikings game with my beloved and a friend of ours. Shortly after the game began, my friend got a footlong hotdog. That thing was monstrous; just like Vikings player Visanthe Shiancoe). If I was a woman, I probably woulda fainted right there.

I Have To Pee

One downside to being a frequent moviegoer is that, unlike a person who watches movies exclusively on DVD, there's no way to press the "pause" button when nature calls. As I mentioned in my prior post, I always go to the bathroom before a movie starts. But what if I go to a film that is a bladder-strainer (such as "Lord of the Rings")? What if I drank too much Mello Yello at Friday's a couple hours before?

A little over a week ago, I went with a friend to Brad Pitt's "Inglorious Basterds" (an A movie if ever there was one).

About 90 minutes in, my bladder started calling for some relief. Now, there was no way I was gonna resist its call; I mean, how can one enjoy a bloody climax if their privates are screaming (pun intended)? I knew I had to go, but when? Certainly not in the middle of a crucial scene.

Over the years, I've mastered the art of going to the bathroom during a relatively non-important scene. For "Basterds", I took off when what appeared to be a expositional scene began. It consisted of Mike Myers (as a Brit) discussing strategies on how to deal with the Nazis (or as Pitt called them in his Mississippi drawl: "Natzis"). Two minutes later, when I returned, the scene was just finishing up and I didn't feel that I'd missed anything.

For those unsure how to distinguish essential parts of a film from non-essential, help has arrived in the form of a website called RunPee. It not only lists the best scenes in which to take a pee break, but also tells you what you missed if you go at that particular time.

Full disclosure: Sometimes when going to the bathroom while a movie is playing, I'll skip washing my hands in order to get back to the theatre that much quicker.

Public Restrooms

Almost without fail, I go to the bathroom before sitting down to watch a movie or eat at a restaurant; having an empty bladder pleases me greatly. When at a urinal, instead of just standing upright, I typically lean my head forward against the bathroom tiles. Washing my hands takes just a few seconds because I rarely ever use soap; in fact, I put my hands under the faucet for only about a second before getting to work on drying them. If all a restroom has is those automated dryers, I just shake my hands dry, not wanting to waste 30-45 seconds getting them completely dry. I also very rarely look in the mirror while in a public restroom. What's the point?

Now for some amusing bathroom stories: one evening at the Outback, I saw an old man waiting right outside the men's and women's bathrooms. I quickly realized that he didn't know which restroom was which; one said "Blokes", the other "Sheilas". A minute later, when he saw a man exit the "Blokes" restroom, he entered it.

When I see a man go to the bathroom and then not wash his hands, I'm tempted to go up to his significant other and tell them what just transpired; I have a bit of Larry David in me:



If memory serves, I actually did this about 10 years ago in a bowling alley.

I was in Friday's a couple weeks ago and a 20-something walked up to the urinal next to me and started going. Five seconds later, he began moaning as if he was being sucked off. I was like, "Jesus, save it for your woman".

Lastly, many moons ago, I saw Garth Brooks in concert and was eliminating when a couple girls walked in. I quickly used my hands to cover what I was packing as they headed for the stalls. A minute later, they were washing their hands and I can't say I minded that they were there. In fact, none of the guys present appeared to have an issue with it.

Skip Day

I rarely get sick, but sometimes just don't feel like going in to work. Once the thought enters my mind that it'd be more fun to just stay home, forget it; in all but the most extreme cases, I'm not goin' in. For the last job I had, I preferred calling in "sick" by leaving a message. This was only possible if the person who got to the office first hadn't arrived yet. Sometimes I'd have to hurry out of bed to get to the phone in order to ensure this.

When it was 7:30 or later, I'd have to talk to someone in person. This would be preceded by me preparing to sound like I'm sick. I would usually go downstairs so that my wife couldn't hear me laying on it pretty thick (she'd typically be asleep, anyway). Sometimes I'd dial the number and then get cold feet. After a minute or two of composing myself, however, I'd leave a message in which I spoke much slower than usual and sounded much less alert.

Two minutes later, I was a happy camper and went straight to bed with a smile on my face.



I'd sometimes feel a tad guilty about doing this (like a teenage boy after masturbating), but certainly not enough to stop the behavior.

BTW, I bought groceries this afternoon and the total came out to $55.55. That's gotta mean something, right?

Midnight Snack

Ever since turning 30, I get up at least a couple times in the middle of the night. In most cases, I'm at least a tad hungry, so after going to the bathroom, I hit the refrigerator for a snack or two (I've noticed that it's easier for me to get to sleep if I have a reasonable amount of food being digested). But where to eat it? I'm not big on eating at the kitchen table and don't really like ingesting food while in front of the telly.

I hit upon the idea of eating on the floor of the bathroom at least five years ago. While sitting cross-legged on the floor mat next to the sink, I peruse EntertainMeWeakly



(check it: the cast of Seinfeld is reuniting this fall on HBO's "Curb Your Enthusiasm")

or Snoozeweek as I eat a NutriGrain bar (or an Oreo Cakester if I'm jonesing for some chocolate). On other evenings, I'll microwave some Pillsbury homestyle pancakes and make sure to put plenty of syrup on them.

I sometimes even eat my dinner in there; the white noise offered by the bathroom fan is a nice reprieve from the TV blaring as my wife watches stuff like Nancy Grace and "Fried Green Tomatoes". The bright lights given off by the vanity also make it much easier for me to read.

Eleven Years Ago Today

On August 23rd, 1998, I woke up by myself at the Ramada hotel in Mount Prospect, Illinois. Today was the big day. I took a long shower and shaved. I got dressed in regular clothes and headed next door to the Bristol Court banquet hall. There weren't too many people there yet.

I went to the men's dressing room. My best man, Phil, was there. I changed into a zoot suit. The other men in my party arrived soon after. I took a stroll around the banquet hall. Everything appeared to be in order. I was called over to do pictures with my about-to-be in-laws. Next, I met the rabbi (I'm not Jewish, but my wife-to-be was. Don't worry. Even though I'm not Jewish, I've been cut) who asked me to sign a wedding contract called a katuba. I didn't see her, but could hear my beloved talking from the top of the stairs (Is that bad luck?)

At 11am, it was time for the ceremony to start. I was quite nervous, but there was no turning back now. I went to my designated spot under the Jewish hupa and waited for my bride. Her parents walked her down the aisle. They had forgotten to put her veil down, however. Oh well. The rabbi gave a short talk about love, life and God. My love and I recited some Hebrew, exchanged rings, and drank wine. At the end, I was asked to smash a glass (actually a light bulb) with my foot (famous Jewish tradition). I did so and everyone said, "Mazel Tov". We then kissed (but not for too long, since her dad was just 3 feet away) and I felt mighty relieved that the most difficult part was over.

We did a meet and greet with everyone who had come (about 150 or so). Both my parents were there and 3 of my 4 siblings (the 4th one was having "issues" at the time). Many more pictures were taken by the wedding photographer.



After a while, the guests went to their seats. The entire wedding party was introduced by the DJ providing music for us. Dori and I were given a standing ovation, which was surreal, but cool. We sat down and proceeded to chow down, but not until after a few toasts. The food (caesar salad, chicken, etc) was quite good. Dori and I then proceeded to visit with our guests.



Then the dancing started. Our first dance was the Jim Brickman-Martina McBride love song, "Valentine". Next, the bridal party came out and then it was an all-skate, I mean, an all-dance. They were playing a lot of fast Jock Jams-like songs, but I just couldn't loosen up enough to really get down like some of the people there.

The music stopped right around 4pm and, like that, our wedding was complete. Me and my girl went to our respective dressing rooms and changed into civilian clothes. The girls in the bridal party suggested that everyone in the wedding party go out to eat someplace close for supper. Wendy's was right across the street, so the ten of us headed over there and had a good meal. The bridal party still wanted to have fun, so suggested a movie. They decided on "There's Something About Mary". We had seen it a week before (even back then, I was a movie freak), so didn't go along. We found out later that everyone loved the movie (it was quite good).

We then headed to my newly- christened wife's parents' house to do some laundry. We visited with them for a while, then headed to the honeymoon suite at the Ramada. Something was wrong with the bath, so we had to call for someone to fix it. The suite was nice. It had leather furniture which was quite sweet. We opened our wedding presents which, per Jewish tradition, consisted almost entirely of cash (!). After you-know-what, we went to sleep. The next morning, it was off to the Milwaukee airport and from there, a honeymoon in sunny Orlando, Florida.

Wiping is so 20th Century

Toilet paper, such a waste (and not even very effective).

Check out this article from Newsweek:

Deep down, Americans have always known that wiping their rears with dry paper is ineffective; a classic survey showed that half of TP users spend their days with "fecal contamination" in their underpants. And yet we continue to mock the bidet, the Frenchest of innovations, as froufrou, risqué, de trop. But while personal hygiene is one thing, the future of the planet is another. The average American uses 57 sheets of toilet paper a day; collectively, we burn through 36.5 billion rolls each year. Tossing all the TP in America would save 15 million trees, 17.3 terawatts of electricity, and more than 473 billion gallons of water annually; the environmental impact of bidets is minimal in comparison. No wonder the Japanese bidet behemoth Toto is gearing up for a massive sales push in the States. When it's hip to be green, ditching the Charmin could actually make a difference. And not only in our (dirty) drawers.

Summer Movies

I've been to four different movies over the past ten days. A week and a half ago, I saw "A Perfect Getaway", a thriller whose main point of interest is a doozy of a twist.

Going in, I didn't know what it was, but it's always cool trying to figure out what it is ahead of time. I wasn't able to do so in this case (I rarely do), but that didn't keep me from having a good time with it. The film took place entirely in Hawaii which made it awfully easy on the eyes (Milla Jovovich also helped greatly in this regard).

A few days later, I finally caught up with the 6th Harry Potter movie. Though there was hardly any action to be found, the characters and the struggles they faced held my interest throughout. Not something I'd wanna revisit, however, and like all previous installments, a very pale imitation of the far superior "Lord of the Rings" films.

On Saturday, I went to "District 9", a very highly praised sci-fi movie from a new director. Made for a paltry $30 million (crap like Transformers costs over $150 million), this movie had it all.

It started as a documentary about aliens trying to fit in with humans in South Africa before turning into a full-force action pic. I usually don't root for characters much in action films, but the ones in this movie really had my sympathies. A number of moments had me on the verge of cheering. Very stirring film and the number one movie of last weekend.

Yesterday, I caught "(500) Days of Summer".

As I went up to the cashier, I said, "I'll take one to "Days of Thunder". The guy asked me to repeat what I said and I did. A moment later, he gave me a tic to "Summer". I wonder if he went up to one of his coworkers later and told them about the yutz he encountered in the early afternoon.

"(500)" looks to be a love story, but the narrator states early on that this is not the case. The film had a number of laughs, but was even better at showing what it feels like to be in the "honeymoon" phase of a relationship, just not necessarily a relationship that is gonna end up with wedding bells. This is something that most rom-coms just don't get. Both leads were fantastic and the non-linear form that the film followed made for a more interesting experience than if it had followed a more traditional path.

One thing I noticed after seeing "Summer" was the high it had me on. Walking around the lake afterward, it was extremely palpable and I was reminded why it is that I love movies so much.

Here are my grades for the four: "A Perfect Getaway" (B+), "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" (B), "District 9" (A), "(500) Days of Summer" (A-)

God's Pizza

Later this afternoon, I'll be going to my favorite pizza place in town, Godfather's Pizza (I wrote about my somewhat-criminal early 90's actions there here).



The only time I go there is when they have their twice-weekly buffet. I typically arrive just before it starts (at 5), find a seat, get a pop, and make sure there is plenty of parmesan cheese at my table. I pretty much always eat the exact same thing: five slices of thin-crust pepperoni pizza and a few dessert sticks.

You might ask how I get away with taking five pieces of the same type of pizza off the buffet. Well, if there's no one nearby, there's no problem; I just go for it. If someone is behind me, I'll take two or three slices off the buffet, put the plate on my table, and then immediately go back up there to get two or three more.

Once seated in a booth, I move the table really close to me so that I don't need to lean forward to eat. If no one wishes to accompany me, I bring along an ish of TIME or Entertainment Weekly. It was while reading articles there that I first learned about two of my favorite TV shows: "Prison Break" and "Entourage". One time, when writing a check for the buffet, I wrote it out to "God's Pizza". My wife, seeing this, said, "Can you do that?"

At 5:15, I leave the restaurant quite satiated and rarin' to play with pup for a while in the backyard to burn off some of the pizza-powered energy.

Whoa, Nelly

Fascinating article in TIME magazine last week about exercise and how it won't make you thin.



Some choice bits:

"The basic problem is that while it's true that exercise burns calories and that you must burn calories to lose weight, exercise has another effect: it can stimulate hunger. That causes us to eat more, which in turn can negate the weight-loss benefits we just accrued. Exercise, in other words, isn't necessarily helping us lose weight. It may even be making it harder.

After we exercise, we often crave sugary calories like those in muffins or in "sports" drinks like Gatorade. A standard 20-oz. bottle of Gatorade contains 130 calories. If you're hot and thirsty after a 20-minute run in summer heat, it's easy to guzzle that bottle in 20 seconds, in which case the caloric expenditure and the caloric intake are probably a wash. From a weight-loss perspective, you would have been better off sitting on the sofa knitting.

Could pushing people to exercise more actually be contributing to our obesity problem? In some respects, yes. Because exercise depletes not just the body's muscles but the brain's self-control "muscle" as well, many of us will feel greater entitlement to eat a bag of chips during that lazy time after we get back from the gym.

This explains why exercise could make you heavier — or at least why even my wretched four hours of exercise a week aren't eliminating all my fat. It's likely that I am more sedentary during my nonexercise hours than I would be if I didn't exercise with such Puritan fury. If I exercised less, I might feel like walking more instead of hopping into a cab; I might have enough energy to shop for food, cook and then clean instead of ordering a satisfyingly greasy burrito."

This time last year, I was hitting the treadmill like a madman, walking an hour every two to three days. Though it felt good, I can't say it did much to help me lose weight. If I'd eaten a bit less, I'm sure I would've had more favorable results, but fact is, I'm at a healthy weight and if anything, should work more on reducing saturated fat from my diet.

Over the past few months, I've been getting about 10 to 15 minutes of exercise each day (nothing strenuous), eat about the same amount of food, and have maintained my weight for the most part. I'm more than cool with this. Though the treadmill just sits, unused, it makes an awfully good coat rack.

Fly Away

We've had a number of flies come into the house this summer due to leaving the garage door slightly ajar from time to time so that Zoe can come and go as she pleases. I have a very unusual strategy when it comes to dealing with them. Before I get into that, though, I have to note that flies in the house seem to bother the dog much more than the cat.

The dog will jump in the air to try to catch them and sometimes chases them from room to room. She actually caught one yesterday and was eating it (something that cats tend to do). The cat will chase moths in the garage, but doesn't appear to have much interest in flies (she did when she was younger).

When I encounter flies, I take a paper towel and try to capture them within it. Once I am able to do so, which can take some time, I open the deck door and let them fly away. Sometimes (though not too often), I'll clip a bit of their wing when I envelope them, but that's certainly better than what would happen if they'd wandered into virtually any other house in the neighborhood. My wife will sometimes get frustrated at my strategy saying things like, "Just kill it", but it's quite obvious to me that the fly just wants to be free; if a little extra effort can ensure this, it's a win-win.

The Climb

Doesn't It Just Break Your Heart?

For more pics of animals in casts, go here.

Tone-Loc or Tone-Deaf?

Video I taped of my brothers 20 years ago

8.5 Hours a Day

While reading the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly, I came across a column by Stephen King in which he mentioned a recently released study that says adults spend an average of 8.5 hours a day in front of various screens (television, computer, mobile devices).

This got me to thinking, what's the point of having a body if all you're gonna with it is sit in front of a screen? Such a sedentary activity. I admit to spending a lot of time on the internet and as the years go by, it becomes more difficult to remember what we did before this. As a child, I read books, but the net trumps this (I can read absolutely anything I want without having to turn a page and if something is boring, I can just move on to another website).

I believe that we are here to experience things, however, and staying home talking to others on Facebook may seem like a semi-social activity, but it's a poor substitute for face-to-face time. By the way, what is with these wusses on Facebook who have one of their children as their profile pic? Is it because they feel that they are grotesque-looking (or fat)? What of those who have a pic of two people (themselves and another) as their FB pic?

In heaven, are we also going to spend all our time in front of screens? Or will we actually get to live life as it was meant to be; with a plethora of members of the opposite sex who find us Dead Sexy and can't wait to get busy. But wait, why would we need genitals in the afterlife? Does God have genitals? Is that why he's referred to as a He? And if so, what in the hell does He do with them?

Doggie Style

It's (virtually) always a treat going to the local dog park; seeing how your dog interacts with the others, enjoying the sunshine with like-minded animal lovers, and trying not to stare at the better-looking bitches. The below video was taken in the spring of 2005 when Zoe was just under a year old:

Mystery Solved

I've wondered for years why restaurants serve such large portions, but was finally given a satisfactory answer last night:

"One of the things that has long occurred to me about restaurant dining is that, because every customer must be served the same portion size, they’re naturally going to provide huge amounts of food. If you serve a 275 pound man an amount of food that would be appropriate for a 125 pound woman, he’s going to still be hungry at the end of his meal and therefore a dissatisfied customer. Because the marginal cost of additional food (especially pasta, potatoes, and the like) is negligible, it’s just good business to pile it on. Naturally, everyone else will be given too much to eat and all but the most disciplined will overeat."

"Two obvious ways health conscious diners can adjust are to resolve to take half the food home with them — better yet, get a “doggy bag” before starting eating and divide it right away — or to share food."

I order chicken fingers most of the time at Friday's; they always come with five fingers. The first thing I do when they're served is put two aside to give Zoe over the next few days as a treat.

Life, Love, and All That Jazz

A cousin of mine who's in his early 30's was diagnosed with cancer this past spring. He went through radiation therapy, chemo, everything the doctors recommended. He has quite a sizable circle of family and friends who have been praying for him these past few months. So it was with much optimism that he had a scan done last week that would tell if his treatment was successful in getting rid of (or at least making a dent in) the disease.

It was with great disappointment that he found out that the cancer had actually spread. What does a person of faith do in such instances? Were all the prayers for nothing? What's going on here? Does God ignore prayers? Does he not mind that one of his children is gravely ill? Most believers would say something like, "God moves in mysterious ways", but that's an awfully dodgy answer. His circle will continue to pray and I can't say I blame them, but if prayer only works some of the time, really, what good is it?

Though a big believer in God, I never pray. Praying makes God out to be stupid, as if She doesn't know what you want in your life, as if He can't already hear your thoughts, that you have to audibly say what it is that you seek. I believe that I co-created all of the events in my life before I was born, so what's happening is just what's happening and ultimately for my highest good.

Those who don't believe in pre-existence (having existed before being birthed by their mother) frequently feel as though things are happening to them, that they played no part in what is showing up. I accept all of it and therein lies much of my peace. It's possible that one day, I'll die in an accident. In my mind, however, there's no such thing as an accident or a coincidence.

I also have no doubt that there is something after this life. Most people, in fact, are the same. Why, then, do they worry about things? It's as if they think that the will of God can be somehow be thwarted (this is why the Devil was invented, by the way). The outcome of life is not in doubt. We are all assured a happy tomorrow. I only wish that more could see life as I do, that there is nothing to fear, ever, that all pain and sorrow is temporary. The day we pass, however, we'll know. We'll remember and wonder how we ever forgot.

Here are some real-life accounts of those who remembered.

Thunder Canyon

Last summer, I wrote about my trip to Valleyfair, an amusement park located near the Twin Cities. With plans to return there next week, I thought it'd be a good time to post some video I took in 2005 when I went with Shanon. Enjoy the sounds of summer.

My First Puppy

One afternoon in the summer of 1997, my girlfriend called from the home of a pet owner whose dog had recently given birth to puppies. She said that there was an adorable bitch (the runt of the litter, as it were) who she was dying to take home and love. I wasn't entirely sold on the idea, but decided to give it a try. Here is an amusing vid of her attempting to climb the steps of our townhouse:

Gayby

There's a scene in the new movie "Bruno" where the title character brings a baby that he adopted onto a talk show. The crowd of mostly African-Americans start booing when he states that he's looking for Mr. Right.



In a deleted scene, he states that he will disown his adopted son if he doesn't turn out to be gay. Sounds so ridiculous, but think of all the people who have disowned their own children when their sexual preference did not line up with their own; this despite studies that approximately 10% prefer the same sex across virtually all mammalian species.

Midnight Show

This evening, I plan to go to the midnight premiere of a new film. I've not done this in more than 4 years. I can recall 4 prior times this decade that I've gone to a midnight premie.

The first was in May 2002 for "Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones". I got my ticket for it about 5 days in advance. My friend said he would wait a few days before purchasing his. He didn't get around to it until the day the movie screened. Because of this, we had to watch the film in separate screening rooms (the big screen I purchased my ticket for had sold out). This didn't bother me too much as we were still gonna be watching the same movie at the same time.

Around 2,000 geeks showed up for the midnight presentation taking up about 10 screens. While seated, I noticed my cousin talking to his friends. It was good to see him. He said they had been there hours earlier playing hacky-sack in the parking lot and talking Star Wars. His marriage was just a few weeks away. The buzz on the movie was that it was better than Ep I, but I didn't really find this to be the case.

Later that year, I went to another midnight show, "The Two Towers", the second part of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I was let down by this one as well; it didn't have the magic and wonder of the first. No need to fear, though. One year later, I went to the midnight screening of "Return of the King" and was very satisfied.

Well, not at first, though. You see, as the previews were starting, I realized that I'd forgotten my Carmex in the car. There's no way I'd make it through 3 hours of what would turn out to be my favorite movie of the year without applying lip balm, so I hurried outside to obtain it. Ahh, that's better.

There's a number of faux endings in the last half hour of the movie. I noticed a few people around me getting frustrated by this, sighing a bit when they realized that the movie wasn't over yet. They probably had to be at work in the morning and were hoping the film was over. Not me. I would've been fine with a 4-hour film (the extended edition of it comes pretty close).

The last midnight show I attended was in May of 2005 for "Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith". There were a number of people dressed in Star Wars garb as was the case for Episode II (including a cute teen dressed as Princess Leia - hair buns included). I was suprised at how downbeat the film was, but it felt good to finally reach the end of the saga.

Music on the Go

Being a regular biker and loving music, it was a mighty happy day when I obtained my first Walkman from Kmart in the mid-80's. Rather than be a slave to what the DJ's were spinning, I could ride around town listening to my favorite new cassette (for an extra long trip, I might bring an additional one along). I remember hearing that wearing them while riding was dangerous because one might not be able to hear emergency vehicles and such, but hell if I cared.

I can recall how cool it was when they came out with ear buds (they go directly inside the ears as opposed to just over them). Once I arrived at my destination, I could simply put the buds in my pocket. I didn't switch to CD headphones until the late 90's.

This past week marked the 30th anniversary of the introduction of the Walkman. A 13-year old gave up his iPod for a Walkman for a week to commemorate the occasion.

Excerpt:

"It took me three days to figure out that there was another side to the tape. That was not the only naive mistake that I made; I mistook the metal/normal switch on the Walkman for a genre-specific equaliser, but later I discovered that it was in fact used to switch between two different types of cassette."

The Final Years of Michael Jackson

There's been a lot written about Micheal Jackson over the past week and a half, but the best piece I've read is by Ian Halperin. Last December, he predicted that MJ would be dead within 6 months. His book about Michael was initially set to be released this week, but out of respect for the family, its release date has been pushed to July 14th.



There are quite a few bombshells in the book, but for the most part, they make sense to me. Check out an excerpt here. Some choice bits:

"Some liked to snigger at his public image, and it is true that flamboyant clothes and bizarre make-up made for a comic grotesque; yet without them, his appearance was distressing; with skin blemishes, thinning hair and discoloured fingernails.

I had established beyond doubt, for example, that Jackson relied on an extensive collection of wigs to hide his greying hair. Shorn of their luxuriance, the Peter Pan of Neverland cut a skeletal figure.

He was also playing a truly dangerous game. It is clear to me that Michael was homosexual and that his taste was for young men, albeit not as young as Jordan Chandler or Gavin Arvizo (his accusers).

In the course of my investigations, I spoke to two of his gay lovers, one a Hollywood waiter, the other an aspiring actor. The waiter had remained friends, perhaps more, with the singer until his death last week. He had served Jackson at a restaurant, Jackson made his interest plain and the two slept together the following night. According to the waiter, Jackson fell in love.

The actor, who has been given solid but uninspiring film parts, saw Jackson in the middle of 2007. He told me they had spent nearly every night together during their affair – an easy claim to make, you might think. But this lover produced corroboration in the form of photographs of the two of them together, and a witness.

Other witnesses speak of strings of young men visiting his house at all hours, even in the period of his decline. Some stayed overnight. Jackson was afraid of being revealed as gay, believing many would view this as confirmation of the false allegations made against him that he was a child molester.

During my investigation into Jackson's life, I discovered a disturbing new twist to the infamous allegations that first emerged in the early Nineties. It may explain the star's increasingly fragile state of mind. When Jackson settled out of court with his first accuser, Jordan Chandler, for more than $15million in 1994, his career went into a rapid decline from which he never recovered. Jackson had not wanted to settle the case. I have obtained legal documents proving that his insurance company forced the settlement on him against his will.

The documents state: 'The [1994 Chandler] settlement agreement was for global claims of negligence and the lawsuit was defended by Mr Jackson's insurance carrier. The insurance carrier negotiated and paid the settlement, over the protests of Mr Jackson and his personal legal counsel.' Jackson was said to have almost collapsed as the settlement was forced upon him. His aides insist this marked the beginning of his mental and physical breakdown.

The ordeal had left him physically shattered, too. One of my sources suggested that he might already have had a genetic condition I had never previously come across, called Alpha-1 antitrypsin deficiency – the lack of a protein that can help protect the lungs.

Although up to 100,000 Americans are severely affected by it, it is an under-recognised condition. Michael was receiving regular injections of Alpha-1 antitrypsin derived from human plasma. The treatment is said to be remarkably effective and can enable the sufferer to lead a normal life.

But the disease can cause respiratory problems and, in severe cases, emphysema. Could this be why Jackson had for years been wearing a surgical mask in public, to protect his lungs from the ravages of the disease? Or why, from time to time, he resorted to a wheelchair? When I returned to my source inside the Jackson camp for confirmation, he said: ‘Yeah, that’s what he’s got. He’s in bad shape. They’re worried that he might need a lung transplant but he may be too weak."

Can't Hold Camera Steady...Too Funny

Story behind vid (taken from prior post):

I've been to the High Roller several times in the last few years, most notably with Shanon in 2005. He hadn't been skating in years and was excited to get back on the horse. We went there in the early evening on a Saturday and put our skates on. I brought my camcorder so that I would have a permanent record of the place. I waited for Shanon to get out there, so I could tape his first few steps. There were mostly kids skating. The song playing was, "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy". Shanon was tentative at first, going quite slowly. He fell down almost immediately, but got right back up. He went a few more yards, then fell again.

Now, I've always prided myself on being steady with the camera. You know how sometimes when you're watching "America's Stupidest Home Videos", you watch something funny happen and the person with the camera taping it starts shaking the camera uncontrollably after he sees something funny that he has just taped? I wasn't like that. If an explosion happened in front of me, I would keep the camera perfectly steady so that future viewers of my tape would admire my skills. But when Shanon fell for the 3rd time in 45 seconds and his cell phone fell out of his pocket, I was laughing so hard that the camera shook a bit.

An employee came out and asked if he was alright. He stopped and told him that he hadn't skated in quite a while. A minute later, he exited the rink. He had some blood on his hand from one of the falls he took and went into the bathroom to wash it off. He didn't have the balls to return to the rink. He called his brother and changed back into his tennis shoes. I skated for a good hour while he watched and had a bite to eat. On the ride home, Shanon said that he wished we had gone bowling instead.

From 1989

Let's Get Ready to Rumble

From 1997

Brandy

I've written previously about the beautiful Saint Bernard I took care of in the late 90's and early 00's, but now, for the first time eva, is some video of her; this was taken in June of 2000 when she was almost two years old.

Double Dare

In 1988, my stepdad bought a camcorder for the family. The purchase was made primarily so that he could videotape the twin girls he had recently co-created. It wasn't long, though, before my brothers and I came up with the idea of putting on our own version of Nickelodeon's "Double Dare" (with yours truly directing). Submitted below are 7 minutes of highlights:

Acid Test

I woke up yesterday morning at around 7am to have a bowl of cereal and some orange juice. The best thing in the house was Reduced Sugar Frosted Flakes. Ick (my girl's on a health kick and has made a habit of buying the stuff). Since I'm lactose, I eat cereal without any milk; the orange juice comes in handy for quenching my thirst.

I had a different experience yesterday, however.

After downing a few ounces, I felt as if my throat was closing up; I could breathe, but wasn't able to drink any water to wash away the acidity of the OJ. I got up and the dog started barking at something outside. I wanted to open the back door so she could run outside, but didn't have the strength. I poked myself in the chest to relieve the tightness, but it didn't do much.

It's hard to describe how uncomfortable it was. I laid down hoping for some relief. I didn't get it at first. A few seconds later, however, I threw up a bit of orange juice onto the floor. Felt good, but it took another 20 minutes before I really began to feel better. I kept trying to burp to get it out of my system. It goes without saying that I won't be having OJ anytime soon, at least not the kind with acid in it.

My wife has GERD and takes meds for it, but I plan to just avoid foods that cause such reactions. If, however, the food at Friday's was a culprit, I'd probably look into getting prescribed something. Speaking of which, I ate there last night and played a few songs on the jukebox including Michael Jackson's "P.Y.T." I heard a lady at the table next to me say something about MJ while it played. I'll always be a fan. An interesting and blunt article about him can be found here.

June 26, 1989 (age 18) - Journal entry (if I'd kept a journal 20 years ago)

Well, I'm living on my own now. My stepdad and mom wanted me out of the house in the worst way, so here I am living in an efficiency at the Sugar Loaf Apartments. It's pretty small, but it's all mine. It's been a bit hard to get used to, but I can still see my mom or dad or grandma anytime I want.

Right now, I don't have to pay any bills. My family is taking care of everything. I do have some spending money to go to movies, about $300 that I got from graduating last month. I keep all my cash in a photo album that I put in a shelf on top of the shower.

I'm looking for a job, but haven't found anything yet. I am signed up with Job Services. So far, the stuff they've offered me hasn't been very interesting. When I get up in the morning, I usually watch a few shows before heading off to find a job. I don't usually head out until 11 or 12.

I'm not eating as good now as I was when living with mom. The two foods I eat the most are probably Totino's Pizza and Nutty Bars.

The Steamboat Days carnival is coming to town next week. From my apartment, I'll be able to see some of the rides and lights. That should be cool.

I just saw Ghostbusters II last week. It was pretty good, but not as funny as the first. Star Trek V: The Final Frontier was great. I didn't like Batman, though. A lot of people did, but not me.

I'm looking forward to starting college in a couple months. I'm just gonna take some general classes to start out with since I don't know what my major is gonna be yet.

I like a greater variety of music now than I did in the past. I like the Platters, Gloria Estefan, Elvis, and Fleetwood Mac.

I'm looking forward to going to Back to the Future II later this year. I read that some of it takes place in the future, in 2015. God, that's such a long ways off. I wonder what life will be like then.

One of my favorite shows to watch on TV is COPS. It's on a new network called FOX. The show shows actual people being arrested by police. It's very interesting. I also like watching David Letterman late at night.

Reunification

After going to my 20-year high school reunion last night, my June triumvirate of special events (which also included hearing my favorite author speak and going to my mother's wedding) is now complete. The reunion bit wound up being my favorite. There's just something about talking to people who you have such a history with, who were once such an important part of your life, tied together by similar geographies and being born at very similar times (one of the ladies I talked to yesterday was born on the exact same day as I).

I felt a great feeling of harmony and oneness there. For a number of moments, I was taken back to my junior high days when I was 14 and girls were a wondrous mystery. Now pushing 40, that was a long time ago, but it felt a great deal closer last night than it has for some time.

An Outcome That Should Surprise No One

As anyone who's been following my weblog for the last week to ten days can tell, I've become hooked on posting videos. It was only a matter of time before YouTube started calling my name. I joined yesterday and have already posted more than a dozen vids. Several of them (from the late 80's and early 90's) were taped directly off the TV. Though the picture quality isn't the best, it's feels good to have a back-up in case my tapes ever break, are lost to fire, or become vaporized at the onset of Armageddon. You can find all of them here.

Endless Massage

About three years ago, Zoe came up with a move that would ensure her massages went on for as long as she could take them. Check it out:

The Retro Room

At the dawn of this decade, I was working at the mighty Mayo Clinic. During my downtime, I liked to go on the internet and quickly became fascinated with a site called eBay. They had everything. Having just turned 30, I was feeling a bit nostalgic for my youth. How cool would it be, I thought, if I could obtain some of the most cherished items from my childhood?

The first thing I purchased was the Raiders of the Lost Ark LP. I got it for a paltry penny (not including the $4.99 for shipping and handling). Course I also needed to buy a record player, but Goodwill had a pretty decent one for $7.99. I bid on dozens of items, mostly having to do with the Star Wars movies, E.T., and Raiders.

As I continued to accumulate, I pondered where to put these treasures. There was a finshed room downstairs that wasn't in use. That's it! I'll make it my very own retro room, a place in which the year is still 1982 and I'm 11 years old. I was careful not to have anything down there that didn't exist in the eighties. I taped Star Wars comic books to the closet doors and placed Star Wars action figures on the cute little ledge that had been built into the room.

One of my greatest joys was obtaining a 1980 Empire Strikes Back Yoda still in its original package.



It had a price sticker on it that said "JCPenney $2.99". That, my friends, is where I bought most of my figures back in the day. I got it for just over $50, easily worth it in my mind. I taped it about a foot above the ledge. It was a thing of beauty. Not too long after that, I stopped bidding; I'd obtained more than enough vintage goodies.

One afternoon, I went downstairs to rest a bit and noticed a Yoda laying on the bed. Must've fell off the ledge (I had multiple Yoda's). I looked up and saw that the packaged Yoda was no longer there. I looked around a bit and spotted the package...opened. After being encased for more than two decades, he had escaped. Zoe was the culprit. She must've jumped up to get it. Aw, well, what's done is done.

The room isn't used much now, not since we got a TV for the bedroom, but if I yearn to return to those days, I head downstairs, lay on the bed, and read an ish of Starlog while playing something early 80's on my tape deck. To take a peek at said room, click below:

Zoe + Sprinkler

Wedding Bell Blues

Being seated in the second row enabled me to pay extra close attention to what the Baptist pastor was saying at my mother's wedding last Saturday.

The most eye-roll-worthy moment was when he spoke of women submitting to their husbands per the Good Book (Ephesians 5:21).

I can remember a decade ago going to one of my wife's friends' weddings in which this was talked about. I asked the bride about this later and she said there was no way that she was gonna be submissive to her man. Time has proven this to be the case. I was thinking, "Damn, you shoulda told the minister to exclude that part if you had no plans to follow through on it".

Back to last weekend; the pastor said that this passage in the Bible gets a lot of guff, no question about that. He then took the opportunity to explain how being submissive isn't such a bad thing. That's awfully easy to say if you're a man. Later in the ceremony, the groom said that he would put his wife's needs above his own which made things even more confusing.

Two hours later, I asked my half-sisters (the twins) if they planned to submit to their husbands once married. They both looked at me in a way that said, "Yeah, right". Living in Madison, they've grown quite progressive (a good thing in my mind). I then asked one of the twins' boyfriends what his thoughts were on a wife submitting to him. He looked off into the distance and said, "Cool".

Road Trip

We had a nice drive to Chicago a week ago today. It was quite sunny as most of our time was spent going five miles per hour over the speed limit. My wife and I typically switch off on which discs to listen to. We started off with Vanessa Williams and Celine Dion's greatest hits before moving onto one of my faves, Tori Amos' The Beekeeper.

I got a chuckle as the title track played (it's track 14 if you click on the link); it opens with a very unusual sound, kinda like a cricket chirping. My wife was looking around as it played and said, "What's that noise?" afraid that her 2008 Accord was having an issue that wouldn't be covered by the warranty.

Best Week Ever

Hey, guys.

I know it's been a while since I rapped at ya, but it's been a busy week. On Thursday, the Mrs. and I drove to Chicago (me for a seminar, her to see a sibling). On Saturday, I attended my mother's wedding in Cheese Country (Wisconsin). Though I'm not religious, Sunday was a day of rest. On Monday, we went to a friend's graduation. Yesterday, I started writing about my Chicago trip and mowed the front yard. Today, the cat is resting on the chair next to me while Zoe is barking at various noises and critters that she sees. Here is a snippet from the wedding vid. In it, my mother and one of her twin girls laugh at a Mitt Romney joke (use your imagination):

Nurture the Stomach or the Soul: Your Choice

The time has come yet again to save a few bucks at Friday's by purchasing one entree' and getting the other free. I just received an email with this coupon and it is good for three weeks (from June 8th to the 30th); as always, it can be used multiple times . You know what to do if you're interested.

I was there yesterday evening and had to chuckle at something a patron said. The waiter asked if he enjoyed his Triple Stacker. He said he did before asking, "What's this white stuff?" I instantly cringed. He was referring to a substance that was put in a small black container next to his burger. The waiter, relatively new, said he wasn't sure.

Halfway through my meal, I took a short break. I swear, people really have a shit-fit when one stops eating even for just a few seconds. My wife said, "Why aren't you eating?" and the waiter's like, "Is everything OK?"

I was at the Outback last weekend and noticed that the bill gave you the exact amount you needed to pay if you wanted to give a 15% tip (approx. $3.60); same thing for 18 or 20%.

If the thought of going to Friday's doesn't turn your crank, check out this list of 10 Ways to Nurture Your Soul.

A Decade Ago

In the summer of 1999, ABC rolled the dice on a prime-time game show. Though it had been decades since a game show had successfully aired in prime time, the network felt that a 2-week experiment in the late summer would be better than showing more reruns. I watched the first few shows of "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" that August and enjoyed what I saw.

Not as difficult as "Jeopardy", not as blah as "The Wheel", the show was fresh with up-to-the-minute questions and a futuristic set. "Is that your final answer?" became an instant catchphrase and I can remember a coworker showing me how to play the game at ABC.com.

The show was given a regular slot in the fall and gradually the number of nights it aired each week increased until it was at 4 a week. I didn't watch every ep, but was fortunate enough to see the show give out its first million. I was shopping at Kmart with a friend and noticed that a nerdy-looking guy was getting mighty close. The million dollar question was a bit too easy for my tastes, but the way he pranked Regis on that last question was a thing of beauty. Check it out here.

The good times couldn't last forever, though, and the show's ratings began to decline in the early '00s. A syndicated version hosted by Meredith Vieira ran for a number of years after, but there's just something about airing in prime time that makes a show feel more special, like the entire country is watching, like they did back in the 50's with programs like "The $64,000 Question" and "21".

Well, happy days are here again as ABC is bringing Regis and "Millionaire" back for two weeks this August on the occasion of its 10th Anniversary. There will be a number of changes (more lifelines), but I look forward to being there once again.

As a postscript, if you're in the mood for a chuckle, check out these game show bloopers.

How Does One Title a Post That Deals With Disparate Subjects?

My beloved returns from sunny Las Vegas later today.

I was asked by a 10-year old last night if I'm looking forward to it. I said, "Kinda". She said, "What do you mean?" I replied, "Well, I wouldn't mind a couple more days on my own". She responded (not untypically for a girl her age): "I'm telling her you said that".

This weekend, I plan to go to a couple ridiculously high-rated new movies: "Drag Me To Hell" (more than 100 reviews; only 6 negative) and "Up" (118 pos, 2 neg). Should be a good time; "Hell" is said to be a very scary one without overdoing it on the gore while Pixar's release from last summer, "Wall-e", wound up being my favorite movie of the year.

I dyed my hair the day before last. If anyone gives me a hard time, I'm just gonna say that it brings out my eyes.

My mother's wedding is rapidly approaching. I've agreed to walk her down the aisle; this doesn't bother me as much as it might some as it's my belief that I've had prior lives with her in which I was quite possibly her predecessor (or at least an uncle or somethin' like that).

I'm also going to videotape the joyous festivities. My mom told me not to perform any fancy camera moves or split-screens. Can you imagine videotaping a wedding in the style of Michael Bay with a cut every 1.5 seconds? That's the main reason I hated "Armageddon".

The Misadventures of a 5-Year Old Pomeranian

Zoe loves days in which I do laundry. It gives her a rare opportunity to go downstairs and have access to the cat's litter box; we usually have a gate up so she can't cause mischief down there. I like to give her a break from time to time, though. As I load clothes into the washer, she sticks her head into the cat box and finds a piece (or two) of doody that smells good and then goes to town on it. This may be repulsive to some, but to each his own.

She also has a thing for women's panties. Whenever she can get her mitts on one of them, she starts licking and then chewing on the crotch section (by the time she's done, they're crotchless). She's destroyed at least a couple dozen of them over the years. Sometimes, when I'm on the computer, she'll look at my wife's laundry bag and then me and make a noise that seems to say, "Please, can I have just one more?". I'm such a pushover, I frequently give in, but have to be careful to throw them out soon after so my beloved doesn't see her pet's latest handiwork.

Many times when I'm just getting into bed, she jumps up on it and vigorously thrusts her pelvis against the comforter. If I were a male Pomeranian, this would be the point where I'd say, "You go, girl!" This behavioral tendency recently compelled my wife to dub her "HUMPty-Dumpty".