Stealing from Josh... again

After a two month layoff, I'm back blogging, although, let's face it, there is an equally as good a chance of another two month layoff coming up. Anyway, while reading my pseudo good friend Josh's blog the other day (Yeah, we've never met, but I'm pretty sure we'd be good friends. Do I have a mancrush? Yikes), I liked the idea of playing a 2007 version of MASH, you remember that game right? Mansion, Apartment, Shack, House, then figuring out who you would marry, where you would work, what you would drive and how many kids you would have, all from a piece of paper and a randomly assigned number. You totally remember that, stop lying. The scientific accuracy of that game was completely off the charts. I am still convinced that Kim Braughtigam and I will live in our apartment in New York with our Ferrari and 32 kids on my Trashman's salary (Editor's note: In 1993, the term Sanitation Engineer did not exist. I really miss the 90s). So, without further adieu, I present to you the theme for this blog, allowing my iPhone to shuffle itself into determining my future. Let the fun begin.

I-Pod Shuffle solve my problems:

My Career: Dust In The Wind by The Eagles
Wow, if that isn't ominous. Can anyone think of this song anymore and not picture the over-the-top incarnation Will Ferrell provided in Old School? Duuuuuuuust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind! You're my boy Blue!

OK, so either I will be fired (again), and end up back on unemployment (which actually was pretty sweet), I will get a job with some old guy teetering on the verge of death whose ass cheeks I see in a very uncomfortable moment involving trust and things tied to people's nether regions, or, the most likely scenario, I will be employed by the City Government of Los Angeles to help battle their infamous problems with smog.

My Love Life: You Give Love a Bad Name by Bon Jovi
So far, this is uncanny. I mean, what are the odds, I'm not making this up. Actually since I'm a sad sack loser in love, every other song on the iPod function of my JesusPhone is love-related, so it's probably not all that long in the odds department. So the question is, is iPhone saying that I personally give love a bad name, or that I should be singing this to some female? I had chosen this song as the ringtone for a certain buxom blonde that I used to talk to, so maybe it's saying that we will have another shot?

No, I'm pretty sure it's just saying that I'm horrible at love.

Christmas Time: Rodeo Clowns (remix) by G. Love featuring Jack Johnson
Well, rodeo clowns are employed to distract a very dangerous entity from goring holes in our heroes. And that clearly relates to christmas time, because, nope, forget it, not even I have the ability to bullshit that well.

Let's remix that to....

Christmas Time: Round Here by Counting Crows
What a great first line. Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog/Where no one notices the contrast of white on white. So clearly we will be having our first White Christmas in quite some time. Although nowadays I spend most of my time in Radnor so everyday is White. Oh, snap, racially charged joke. This is why I give love a bad name.

The New Year: The Way You Move by Outkast
Hmmm, well I certainly would like to move in 2008, so that's a nice sign. But, let's face it, this is clearly referring to my dancing skills and the way they will manifest themselves at New Year's Eve 2007/2008, or as we have now dubbed it Happy New Zweers. I am a historically horrible dancer, but I have to say, I think I'm getting better. I'm tall, white, and lanky. These are not commonly used terms to describe Chris Brown, but I'm telling you, I have been feeling it lately. I may not know the Superman Souljaboy dance, nor that Stomp your hands, clap your feet nonsense, or, as last night proved, The Electric Slide, but when it comes to freestyle, I have just a little bit of pop in my step. Feel free to attest to this. I'm getting shorter and blacker.

2008 Romance: All at Once by The Fray
"There are certain people you just keep coming back to/She is right in front of you" Well if that doesn't speak for itself, wow. "Eight seconds left in overtime and she's on your mind." I am very excited that I am going to be involved in some sporting contest in 2008 that goes into overtime. Sadly there is no clock in Bowling, what will I get into? Oh the drama! "Sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same" Hmmm, well maybe things that are "complicated" aren't so bad after all. Damn iPhone, you know me so well!

Side note, I was thinking about this. How about we outfit the iPhone with some text context recognition software. So if I am sending out sad/sappy texts/emails it will know to play certain songs on its shuffle function? When I'm depressed I'm really not looking for a little Kanye, I need to hear some Keith Urban or something.

2009 Romance: Stand By Me by John Lennon
Well Josh put in 2009 since he didn't like 2008, I'm just doing it because I was apparently out of blog. Perhaps I will be standing by 2008's romance at some sort of ceremony. You know, like Flag Day or something.

What baseball means to me

Later today, for the first time in fourteen years, the Philadelphia Phillies will play in a playoff game. I remember vividly the last time they did this, as I was 12, watching the game in my parent's basement as Joe Carter hit that infamous home run. That was the first time I ever cursed in front of my parents, the moment I mark as the end of my innocence. So today, at 3PM, I will return to my parent's basement and watch with them, my dad recovering from knee surgery, my mom trying to figure out which one is Darren Daulton, and if all goes well, maybe I can recapture some of that childhood wonder, if only for an afternoon.

My Top Ten Favorite Celebrity Couples

God knows there are enough celebritards these days gracing the tabloids and enough overly exposed nicknamed couples that I think we are pretty much all tired of hearing/caring about. Brangelina, Posh&Becks, I'm looking at you. BUT, on the flip side, there are a lot of couples that I actually genuinely enjoy. Without further ado...

10. Heidi Montag & Spencer Pratt: Yeah, yeah, I know, and don't worry three loyal readers, after the dinner table debacle that was Ketchup-gate, I am backing off my indefensible defense of Spencer. BUT, they do really seem to love each other. And maybe it's just for the camera, but it's all I have to go on. And the fact that they know that America hates them but they still show us their smoopie smoopie faces each week is admirable.

9. Zac Efron & Vanessa Hudgens: Granted I probably couldn't pick these two out of a lineup, but anytime you rattle off two ridiculously successful movies and hookup with your co-star, then handle the nudey internet photo flop, you make it on to my top 10 list. Lindsey Lohan, take notice.

8. Rob McIlhenney & Katilin Olsen: If you're not watching It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, please start, as these two absolutely crack me up on a weekly basis. When you watch, you might notice that the three guys are all Exec Producers on the show and Olsen is not. Well Mr. McIlhenney, not only have you kept the broad from making the big bucks, but you also managed to bed her. Kudos.

7. Professor Plum & Miss Scarlet: Nothing shocked the Clue watching world more than the scorching hot, albeit faux hookup of the biggest nerd and the hottest vamp in board game history. That movie gave me hope at the age of 9 that even I could hook up with a hot girl.

6. Kurt Russell & Goldie Hawn: Together since 1982, Goldie and Kurt have never actually taken the plunge and gone down the aisle. While they are probably in the Aaron McKie common law marriage range, I really respect the fact that they have snubbed at traditional society and done their own thing.

5. Rachel Bilson & Hayden Christensen: Now, don't get me wrong, I can't stand how much Christensen's whiny Anakin Skywalker job ruined Episodes II & III, but I was reading a few weeks ago about how Bilson has intentionally avoided the press at all costs while with Christensen because she knew how much seeing them together would hurt Adam Brody, her ex. And I certainly have a lot of respect for that.

4. Kate Hudson & Dax Sheppard: While you could certainly say that had Kate Hudson done the same as Bilson, Owen Wilson might not have gone all Royal Tenenbaums on us, that seems like a pretty harsh statement. After seeing that picture of Sheppard taking off his shirt to shield his lady from the press, I was sold. That's how a man should treat his lady. Very Pacey Witter-like.

3. Bam Margera & Missy Rothstein: Bam is insane, no question about it, ridiculously wealthy because he is insane, but insane nonetheless. And despite bedding some of the best ass in Hollywood (Jessica Simpson), when it came time to find someone to spend the rest of his life with, Bam ended up with his childhood sweetheart and friend, Missy Rothstein. Someone who wasn't after the money or fame, Missy showed a heart of gold during their engagement reality show, putting up with Bam's antics, throwing back some of her own (the wedding dress prank), and even getting him to participate in some of the planning. Impressive.

2. Nick Lachey & Vanessa Minillo: In terms of being a celebrity, not many have had it harder than Nick. He believed he found the love of his life, married and her and tried to build a life with her, only to see it all come crashing down while at the same time his career was hitting the skids, hers was peaking and she was seen diddling guys like Bam and John Mayer in public. Just because they have money doesn't mean they don't deal with the same relationship tribulations that the rest of us do. Nick had it pretty rough. But give Nick credit, he found a way to rebound, land a hot girl and even find love again. And his new love ballad, What's Left of Me, is pretty fitting for their relationship. Anytime you fall in love and lose it, you lose a piece of your heart. Doesn't mean you can't love again, but you do leave something behind. Nick does a good job of recognizing that, and that's why Nick and Vanessa get #2 on my list.


1. Price William & Kate Middleton: These two just define a classy couple. Other than their breakup a few months ago, the only thing you ever heard about Kate was how perfect she was, and how in love they were, despite being the most watched couple in England since Will's parents. The two are so perfect that the throne will most likely pass over Charles and go straight to William because of their strong likelihood of being a great royal couple. And now that they are in the midst of getting back together, Kate laid low, opting to stay home at the recent Diana vigil, to keep the attention on where it truly belonged, Lady Di's memory. Class... something we could all learn from.

iGeek

I heart Apple. Have for a long time now. Even though they are expensive, I love the brand, and I'll never go back to the Windows way of life.

So anyone that knew me back when Lord Jobs announced the new iPhone back in January knew that I have been lusting after that little piece of technogadgetry ever since. However, due to my lack of, well, wealth, the $600 price tag looked a little, well, pricey. And when you throw in the Verizon cancellation fee and the increased price of the plans, I really didn't stand much of a shot.

So, like a jilted dumpee, I did my best to get over the iPhone. She wasn't right for me. I wasn't right for her. Not right now at least. Our love was just not meant to be. I moved on. I had to. I listened to Counting Crows on my iTunes, had a good cry, and talked myself into a few more years with my formerly acceptable Verizon LG regular phone. I picked up the pieces and put it all back together again.

And then came June 22nd. The black turtlenecked one's grand creation hit Apple Stores everywhere. And sometime in early July, I finally got my hands on one. And Oh. My. God. How beautiful is this thing? Sleek, beautiful, with an interface that even my grandmother could love.


Somehow, somehow (and that $600 pricetag helped), I found a way to perservere. MVF Lou talked me down from the iPhone ledge, [WARNING: NERD TALK COMMENCING] preaching the weakness of the 2G Cingular EDGE network, and the limitations of a mere 8GB of memory in addition to the standard bugs that come out in the first generation of any piece of technology [END NERD TALK].

But when Apple announced the $200 price drop last week (which amazingly seemed to incite more protests than the Iraq War, seriously, I think I saw someone carrying a torch and hanging Jobs in effigy outside the Suburban Square Apple Store), like the sad pup sucker that I am, I came running back to the door. Could I possibly wait another two months or so for the next generation of iPhones to come out, ones that promised 3G and 16GB? I am not proud to say that I promptly decided to create custom ringtones on iTunes for my top 30 closest friends and created entries for all of my cell phone and email contacts in AddressBook, to prepare for iPhone DDay.

And then came yesterday when I got to play with the iPhone again. One of my patients, an early teens kid brought his iPhone to the doc's office, so I had to ask him about it. While we geeked out to talks of the EDGE network, buffering, WiFi hotspots, early adopters, smart playlists, and an absolutely surreal story from this kid about the value of the camera (this kid, who, like myself was a bit awkward for his teen years told me about taking pictures of the stage last weekend while at the BARRY MANILOW CONCERT WITH HIS PARENTS, I mean, wow. how many things are wrong with that sentence?). So anyway, despite matching techisms with the Lord of the Dorks, my complete disdain for the whole "Patience is a Virtue" thing snapped back into 4th gear and my wallet has gone back into full on panic mode.

Can I really wait for the unnannounced but inevitable pre-Christmas iPhone 2.0 release? We shall see... but this $400 in my pocket is getting awfulllllly hot.

Oh, Mandy

There are a lot of beautiful women in Hollywood. Some have coke addicitions, some like to "accidentally" show their kibbles and bits to the paparazzi. Some are happily married, some ruin the greatest love story of all-time and sully the good name of MTV reality by divorcing Nick Lachey. Most are so ridiculously popular and wealthy that they wouldn't allow me to valet their car. But then there are the select few, nay, one who has it all going on yet avoids the limelight, avoids prison, and also appears surprisingly attainable to a dashing young fellow like myself. I am of course, talking about the delightful Miss Mandy Moore.

I fully admit that I have no shot with Nicole Kidman. Her perfect skin will never touch mine. And even if I wanted to, Britney is probably done with all guys named Kevin. I will never get to see Paris at night, and I would never want to get in between Rachel McAdams and Ryan Gosling. But Mandy, Mandy is different. I think she is just the type of girl who might fall for a guy like me. The down-to-Earth style which Mandy appears to lead her life is just the reason she may be looking to go outside of her normal circle to find her next boyfriend.

Now, Mandy has dated Wilmer Valderrama, Andy Roddick, Vincent Chase, and Zach Braff. I once stole and drank Anna Kournikova's Wawa coffee. Mandy is a wildly popular, classicly beautiful triple threat who has achieved great success in the realms of film, television, and music. I am a lanky, neurotic, self-destructive pop culture-phile with no discernable talent whose greatest success is a 10 second stint in the background of an episode of the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air at the tender age of 12.

However, after working with Everyman-appeal actor John Krasinski on her recent film License to Wed, and dealing with Wilmer running his mouth off to Howard Stern, Mandy is ready for a break from the Hollywood guys. She will find in me the same self-inspecting, slightly narcissistic charm that she saw in Zach Braff, without the crazy shooting schedule. And, like Roddick, I too was on my high school tennis team. Mandy was on the cover of the May 06 Cosmo. I had a page in the June 05 Marie Claire. Mandy had a brief cameo on Entourage. I watch Entourage. And, as an added bonus, according to her wikipedia page, Mandy can't cook but is trying to learn. I am an excellent cook, and while living solo I often dine on Hungry Man dinners, I would be happy to spend hours in the kitchen with my love, creating pasta dishes, gourmet pizzas, steaks, Bananas Foster and whipped cream bikinis.

Now, what is my plan you might ask. Good question. Do I plan to win her over when she accidentally stumbles upon this blog? Unfortunately, I doubt this will appear in the top google results of her name, and I have about three confirmed readers and I don't think any of you know her (by the way, does every blogger/tv/radio host on the planet now use the old Conan O'Brien "no one is watching!" joke now? I think so). So how will I meet my future bride?

By letting her come to me. In the most romantic place on Earth. The gaming floor of the Borgata.



By what some may call coincidence, but I call fate, Mandy is playing with Dawson's Creek theme songstress Paula Cole next month at the Borgata on the same weekend of my mini-family reunion in Ocean City. My guess is that the crowd will not be comprised of too many members of my demographic, thus making me stand out in the sea of women. While it is entirely possible that Mandy will pull me out of the crowd onto stage a la Bruce Springsteen-Courtney Cox in Dancing in the Dark, serenading me with her new favorite cover, Rihanna's "Umbrella",



it is far more likely that Mandy and I will cross paths later that evening, at the gaming tables. What many don't know is that I am a very entertaining gambler, making myself known at Blackjack tables all across Atlantic City. Ok, perhaps that's a stretch, but I am entertaining and can command the attention of a solid $10 table if I can just get a few cards to fall my way. Drawn in by the burgeoning crowd and witty banter, Moore, a little lonely after her performance will wander over to see what all the fuss is about. With the seat next to me being occupied by a large African-American woman named Thelma, Mandy will be forced to wait as I help us all win Alexander Hamilton's with reckless abandon. Finally, overcome with feelings of joy and the all you can eat buffett at the Trump Marina, Thelma will depart, opening a seat for Mandy.

Eschewing formal introductions, Mandy and I hit it off immediately, discussing the post-Labor Day shore crowd, the maze like atmosphere that every casino seems to envelope and the supposed extra oxygen being pumped into the room to keep us all alert and awake. I will learn that Mandy also has a secret love for the WB-classic "Felicity", and spends more hours each week on Fantasy Football than anything else. Between these revelations and a few drinks, it leads to a stroll on the boardwalk, a barefoot walk on the beach, interlocking fingers, stopping only to sit in the lifeguard stand and admire the power and beauty of the ocean's tides and eventually, when the moment is right, a moonlight kiss. The rest, my friends, you will have to read about in the tabloids.

Condo Development or Soap Opera?

For a good two and a half years, I have lived in peace over here at Old Forge Crossing. Aside from the one incident where my old upstairs neighbor was seen on his balcony shooting at squirrels with a BB gun in his underwear and a mask, it's been pretty quiet. Ok, one time my hamster escaped and wreaked a little havoc next door, but other than that, it really has been mundane. Until about a week and a half ago. I got home from the movies at around 12:30AM to find my across the parking lot neighbor outside with a friend enjoying a bottle (or seven) of wine. Now, I have said hello to this neighbor whenever our paths crossed, but that was it. Until that night.

Angie, and yes, that is her real name called me over saying that we had never been introduced. Not wanting to be rude I went over to introduce myself and quickly discovered that these ladies had been drinking just a bit. So after my rousing story about the movie Superbad, Angie and her friend, whom we will call Samantha since I can't remember her name invited me to join them. Bored with life, I decided why not. So I grabbed my chair and a bottle of wine myself and sat down. Now I'm not sure exactly how we got on the topic of sex, but before I knew it these women were sharing with me the intimate details of their past sexual histories. And oh how intimate they were!

Stories of orgies, crazy Russian mobster run New York sex clubs, lesbian relationships and third input were being thrown around as if they were just another Saturday night. Now, I am about the most liberal person you will meet, I'd never judge another for their sexual history. But myself, I'm fairly conservative when it comes to the bedroom. I really didn't have much to add to the conversation other than a diatribe on why men find it so sexy when women kiss. Emboldened by this, Angie and her friend proceeded to each sit on one of my legs and kiss each other. I won't pretend that I objected.

As the night moved on, I could tell the friend was trying to set me up with Angie. Now, Angie is a nice girl. A couple years older than me, clearly a whole lot more "experienced" than me, and a lot more worldly. Despite all this, I was not so interested. But sure enough, around 2AM Samantha decided to call it a night leaving just Angie and I to ourselves. At this point I knew I was in trouble.

Angie then proceeds to slur out the following to me: "Ya know, we see each other and we always say hi, but we never say hi. Truth is, I have been watching you for the past year." I responded with a look of slight fear asking if she could see in my windows, to which she replied, "No, I don't mean that. I just mean... I just think you're really hot, and if you ever want to come over to... ya know, talk... that'd be great." Short of telling me to call her Kitty-Kat, she pretty much laid it all out there.

I gave a sheepish "OK, sounds good" and retreated back to my condo and wondered what the fuck just happened. Did I just get propositioned by a 30 year old? Was she a cougar? Was I prey? Was I an idiot for walking away? I decided to let the issue die for the next week and a half

Fast forward to the other day after I finished a rousing vaccuuming session, I heard a voice outside my unit. Twas Angie, asking my new upstairs neighbor which unit was Kevin's. I froze with panic, unsure of what this woman was doing at my place at 5PM. Out of sheer terror, I refused to answer the door, instead choosing to hide next to my bed and pretend I was in the shower or something. I really know how to handle the ladies.

As it turns out, new neighbor decided to jump on the opportunity and invite her up for a drink at his place. Angie, apparently the new OFC hussy, readily accepted. Not sure how that turned out, but long story short, later that night I ran into her while I was trying to throw away my trash and had a brief conversation in which she reiterated that we should get together sometime. I think I said something like "Sure, I'm around."

So perhaps the whole adventure will go quietly into the night, or perhaps I will be dealing with a Fatal Attraction situation for the next year and a half I have left here. Awesome.

UPDATE: Crazy neighbor knocked on my door at 8:30 tonight. Clearly home with music on, I had to answer. I quickly hid my beer and answered. After exchanging hellos, Angie said "Let's drink!" enthusiastically. I informed her that I had to be up at 4:30AM so that wouldn't be possible but that I would try to stop by this weekend. My lovely friends Katharine and Lisa, neither of whom would agree to move in with me, both told me to man up and tell the bitch I'm not interested. As my friend Stacy pointed out, and I paraphrase, "you really could have worse problems." Fair enough, I'll stop bitching, and yes I do realize that most people would be jumping at this situation.

What I am about to say scares me.

Whenever you start something new, such as a blog like this, you want to send some shockwaves out. Get the people talking. Say something fresh, something that is different from everyone else out there. But never in a million years did I think I would be coming out wiht this.

I think Spencer Pratt might not be such a bad guy after all.

I know, I know. Trust me, I spent all of last season despising the guy and his scheming egomaniacal ways, as he performed a LCectomy on Heidi so efficient and precise that even Preston Burke would be proud. And admist all of the between season's tabloids that featured Spencer's comments on how we would see his real relationship with Heidi, I scoffed, well first I hid myself from anyone seeing me reading the magazines, then I scoffed. But then it happened.

Spencer was asked to meet the parents. I couldn't help but empathasize. I can't personally imagine anything scarier than meeting the parents of the girl whom you see yourself spending the rest of your life with, especially when they are already predisposed to hating you. Knowing that you are being silently judged and almost assuredly found unworthy of the apple of your eye's affection, worrying that they will expose you to her for all your faults, that really can be unnerving. I have only been asked once, and I must admit my own cowardice and insecurity left me to run at all costs. But not Spencer. For all his faults, Spencer was a greater man than I, shunning his "homie's barbecue" to join Heidi for a trip to Colorado to meet the folks.

And the parents did not disappoint. While they seemed to give Spencer a chance at first, you could tell that the stepdad was clearly leary. The tension was palpable. The trust talk amongst the horses. then dinner, with Spencer, normally an outspoken cat, seemed nervous and in love, fumbling with words that he normally flows freely with. My heart went out to the guy. And clearly he isn't perfect, as his diatribe on LC showed, but I do believe that he really does love Heidi, even if their engagement seems a little unsettled. The jury is still out, but he went a long way to winning over this blogger in just 22 minutes time.

In other news from my trip to the Hills, holy buttcheeks Audrina! And why do you always look somewhat high? She may have the first documented case of DSE's. And you know, I really felt for her after Justinbobby (any relation to Rickybobby?) left her the worst breakup ever by leaving her helmet on the couch (All right, sidebar: She owns her own helmet already? And seriously, who breaks up this way? I have a buddy that got dumped by email once after a longish relationship, but that was just ridiculous, but back to my point...). so yeah, so you're feeling all bad for her and she's looking cute in her little hoodie, because, let's face it, girls look good in hoodies, and then we cut to next week and she's going out with him again. WTF! See, this is why so few nice guys exist anymore. Because we all watch The Hills and see stuff like this. And it gets rewarded.

Sadly, this was a Whitney-free episode. Am I the only one who can't get enough Whitney? Can we just spin her off right now and get it over with? Call it The Foothills or something, I would tune in every Monday at 10:30, or let's face it, whenever I got around to it on my DVR. But I would still watch, and really MTV, since you are clearly targeting the Male 24-30 demographic here, maybe you should get on that. I would be happy to serve as an Assistant Producer. Maybe even start dating Whitney, in a veiled throwback to Real World: Seattle. Remember when that was the craziest thing that ever happened on the Real World? That and some bitch slap to the girl with Lyme's Disease, which, sadly, can not be cured with actual Limes.

OK, the dryer just beeped so I think I can go get my masculinity back out of it now. At least until next Monday night. Is it football season yet?