I bought something...

Head on over to the Something Store and see for yourself. Thanks to AGSC for bringing this to my attention.

A different kind of resolution

I've never been one to make to make New Year's resolutions. Perhaps I never saw the value in deciding the middle of winter was a good time to quit smoking, lose weight and do the other generic thing people tell themselves they will finally do this year- Turns out it's much easier to quit smoking and start exercising during spring in sunny California- or, in a more general sense, using holidays as motivational tools. Also, grumble grumble pessimism bah humbug and so on. So here I am, all positive about life (gross), resolving to start a second blog and become a superfreak. (Aside: Listen Blogger, as your name suggests, this is a fucking blog. Vernacular abounds in your world. Stop telling me superfreak isn't a word.) These resolutions are of little or no actual importance since my ability to carry them out has little to do with a calendar. The resolutions of mine that matter to my life do not involve December, January or any specific timeframe at all.

While listening to one of the two podcasts I subscribe to, I heard a story from Ted Leonsis, owner of the Washington Wizards and Washington Capitals. His story has nothing to do with sports, but it might have helped him get involved in sports. As the story goes, Ted Leonsis was on a plane that had an emergency landing. After experiencing a near-near-death experience, Leonsis took it upon himself to make a list of 101 things to do before he died. It's not a bucket list, per se, it's more of a guideline for how he wanted to live his life. The entire first section of the list is dedicated to raising a family. In fact, most of the list consists of the normal things one might hope to accomplish in a "complete" life. But then there are some loftier goals thrown in there. Owning a sports team is there. So is having a net worth of $100 million. He's got both of those checked off. He's fifty-three years old and he's done more than eighty things from his list.

I got inspired enough to make my own list. I quickly realized that it isn't about putting your whole life on a piece of paper. I came to think of it as more of a loose outline for the next 60-75 years. No schedule, no real plan, just some broad ideas of how I'd like things to play out. Am I going to laminate it and keep it in a safe place for the rest of my life? Probably not. But I find it comforting to have a record of what I would like out my life. Like Leonsis, I have a lot of general family stuff. The first three things on my list are get married, have kids, have grandkids. I didn't get as optimistic to think I can realistically own a sports team- not until I win the lottery anyway. There's still some cool stuff I hope to achieve. Did you know I'm going to run a marathon, host a radio show and make my own whiskey? I'm also going skydiving before I have kids. By the way, I'm afraid of heights.

Whether or not I come close to completing my list is beside the point. I wrote it all down to motivate myself to shoot for a life I'd be proud of. I'm giving myself a reason do all the bullshit. In this season of short-term thinking, I'm looking for some long-term inspiration. Even if I come up drastically short of getting it all done, the value of this list is in everything else that happens along the way. I might even settle for having a family and nothing else. Owning a jet pack would be pretty sweet too. You know, just in case.

*Listen to the B.S Report interview with Ted Leonsis
*Look at Leonsis's list

Seriously, where's my prize?

As part of my never-ending quest to be comically behind the curve, I just finished Blink the other day. Criticism aside- I found that it lacked any kind of conclusion to explain why it's content matters in the first place- it got me thinking about first impressions. In this instance, first impressions in celebrity sightings. Being from New York and having spent time in LA, I've seen plenty of celebrities and most of them have been fleeting moments. Just long enough to get a first impression. In all of these cases I felt that these people were doing something that made perfect sense for them. Why am I talking about this now? And why did I tie Blink into it? Because I wanted to brag about finishing. I went to film school, let me have my moment!

Just the other day I crossed paths with two of New York's finest Jew-y celebrities within ten minutes of each other. Richard Kind of Spin City fame was walking his kid home from school. (P.S 87 if you're an Upper West Side person) As soon as I saw him in the act of fathering it seemed like the only thing Richard Kind could possibly be doing on a Tuesday. Doesn't this guy just look like a dad?  Five blocks later I spotted poker player Erik Seidel walking out of the 72nd St train station. If you've ever been on the Upper West Side, you know how perfect it was to see this millionaire in old plain slacks, New Balance shoes and a beat up brown sweater. He might as well have been Woody Allen. If you're wondering who the hell Erik Seidel is, he is best known for a movie that has been discussed by so many novice poker players it makes me not like Matt Damon. Do you have any idea how hard it is to not like Matt Damon? Hint: Douchebags with chinstrap beards can brew up a special blend of vitriol inside a man.

Sticking with the Jews in New York theme, my encounter with Lewis Black made me worry for the man's health. Dude was straight up talking to himself. I'm not talking about struggling to retain a thought. This guy was angry about something and he wanted himself to know about it. After telling my mom about this, she recounted her own Lewis Black story and said he was equally worked up when she saw him. She even had a brief conversation with him. She's a Jewish mom, she thinks she can be friends with everybody. I really didn't plan on writing about this many New York Jews when I started this post. Also, "New York Jews" looks a lot like "New York Jets." That's it, this post has gotten out of control.

One final note: I read a book! Yay me! Where's my prize?

Mail Time!

Dear Old woman who comes to the dog park without a dog,

You can't bring a laundry cart full of magazines and snacks and then get upset when the dogs show interest in said cart. People take their dogs to the dog run so they can run free and smell whatever the hell they want. I thought it was well understood that when you enter the dog run, you are relinquishing your right to be hypersensitive about dogs. If all you want to do is sit on a bench and read there are literally hundreds of benches throughout the park where you can do that without worrying about unleashed dogs smelling your precious AARP magazines. "But then I won't get to see dogs," you might retort. I assure you that the dogs in the park do not appear out of thin air. If you sit on one of the benches at the entrance to the park, I promise you will get your fix of dog sightings. If you want to actually interact with the dogs, might I suggest you leave the cart at home and bring a tennis ball. If you don't have the budget for a tennis ball I'm sure a stick will be just fine. Dogs aren't very smart. They will be easily fooled by anything dangling from your hand.

Sometimes you just sit there and read magazines. As I have already explained, there are more suitable options if you have no interest in dogs. It seems to me that going to the dog park only adds inconvenience to your day. Wouldn't it make more sense to go where the dogs won't interrupt your reading? Who goes to the dog park just to be bothered? Perhaps you just want to stand out. That's not just awkward, it's kinda sad. 

This idea that you just want attention kind of makes sense to me. After all, for somebody who doesn't own a dog, you seem to be overly concerned with enforcing the rules. I know the rules state nobody can bring more than four dogs, but please stop complaining about this. They shouldn't do it, but those guys are working and need to keep the dogs busy. They might bring too many dogs to the park, but you bring too little. Zero to be exact. And why do you always seem to pick on my boss and never that creepy bald guy with all the mean dogs? Is it because he looks like a neo-Nazi? Because he totally does. Still, you weird me out more than he does. And trust me, something is definitely off with that guy.

Hoping you find whatever it is you're looking for,

James

Not cool

Dear Soy Sauce Packets,

Really? REALLY? You've been doing the same spiel for my whole life. For almost twenty-six years now you have shown no improvement whatsoever. You make me feel like the true purpose of your existence is not to transport delicious salty goodness to Chinese food but rather to make competent, even intelligent, humans feel inadequate, incapable and downright useless. You even manage to intensify these feelings of futility by punishing rather than rewarding outbursts of rage that you yourself bring about. Next time I'm opening the duck sauce just to make you feel unappreciated.

Love,

James

I'm rich!

I never got the memo that taking my laptop to Starbucks was sooooooo 2005, so I still go there to write and/or feast on the blood of small businesses. I was writing a post there the other day when I decided it would be more fun to pretend I was a spy. I found myself sitting next to a good old fashioned crazy burnout. You know the type: every article of clothing made out of denim, shoes that very possibly lacked soles, hair past his shoulders, oddly well-groomed soul patch? It didn't take me very long to pick up on the crazy. It's easy when it's all god this, apocalypse that. Most of the time he was just mumbling to himself, obsessing over the massive stack of handwritten notes he either had for the last five years or had written entirely the night before. Every once in a while he would come out of his shell to proclaim his superiority or wealth to those around him. Despite sitting right next to this man, I risked myself for you, the readers, by recording his best quotes. All of this is exactly as it occurred over the course of an hour. All of this was spoken to himself unless noted otherwise.

I'm not like you people. You think I'm one of you?

God is good, you know?

How can we laugh when satan is on the podium?

I'm rich! 

I gotta buy some mittens, man.

(After speaking to me) We're rich!

I remember when I was at the churches, they had a man come in that was very sick. Very, very, very sick. I sent him away healed.

I'm very rich.

I remember when I was at the churches, they had a man come in that was very sick. Very, very, very sick. I sent him away healed.

Very happy, very humble, very happy, very rich

You people provoke me to jealousy with your pride, with your arrogance. The holy ghost hates you people. But anyway lets get back to what happened to this guy.

I remember when I was at the churches, they had a man come in that was very sick. Very, very, very sick. I sent him away healed. 

(After a particularly awkward exchange with two girls in costume for a music video whom he convinced to sit down in the chairs across from us despite my very unsubtle head shaking.) Didn't I see you before? You're from Africa? No? That must have been some other girl.

(About his iPod) Cult awareness packet. 

(Counting on his fingers) Very, very, very, very, very RICH.

Not a problem. I'm very rich. I'm about 5 for 7. What are you?

Did you ever see a pastor with down syndrome bleed from the mouth? I did.

With these people it's like pulling teeth trying to ask them about the lord.

And that is how I learned that rich people love god almost as much as they love denim.

Citizen of the Year

Dear Cinema Enthusiast,

I just want to say I really admire what great lengths you go to in your effort to ensure you never go a moment without entertainment. Even on a crowded train at rush hour, complete with a young mother struggling to find a comfortable place to stand with her baby in a stroller, you bravely took up two seats so you could maximize your viewing experience. Not only did you spread your legs out- essentially taking up a good chunk of yet another seat- for maximum comfort, you exhibited true dedication by occupying an entire seat with your tiny book bag and DVD case. After all, if you're going to watch a movie on a portable DVD player the size of a small book, it really is essential to take every possible measure to protect your personal bubble. 

I hope you were not so engrossed by fast forwarding to the good scenes in Heat that you didn't notice my expressions of appreciation. It was truly an honor to be in your presence as I sat much closer to you than necessary, slowly creeping over into your space as you finally resorted to squeezing your legs together and ultimately crossing them over in a fashion I thought was only achievable by contortionists. I was especially impressed by how upset you were at me for invading your space. Only a true artist such as yourself could be this oblivious to the irony the situation. Even as we entered Manhattan and the train reached critical mass, you kept your focus firmly on watching your movie on a screen the size of a wallet. If only we could all be like you. You sir, are a hero to us all.

Sincerely,

Wish I was as classy as you

Maybe they're just jealous I wear sweatpants to work

As you may know, I've been working as a dog walker for the past month. This is generally the epitomy of awesome. I get paid to walk around and play with dogs. Yup, win all around. Perhaps the only downside to the job is the buildings I go to. A lot of these buildings are freshly opened condos for the newly married (and newly rich) young couples. This is in NO WAY a judgment of my clients. I even like the Republican clients with "Going Rogue" on the coffee table. (They are surprisingly nice and their dog is the man) What gets under my skin is the attitude in these buildings.  

First, I find it beyond awkward having a revolving door, um, revolved for me. The whole point of a revolving door is that it's easy to use. There are even two regular doors on either side if people really need doors held for them. But here these guys are, jump starting the convenience for me. Isn't that like getting carried up an escalator?

(Speaking of escalators)

Of course, the pandering and placating dies as soon as they remember I am but a lowly dog walker. Then I need a personal escort to the service elevator, lest I ruin the pompous ambience. Oh no! Heaven forbid a commoner take a regular elevator. This would ruin the fine oak interior of this state of the art upward propulsion device. A rube such an myself could never operate such an advanced machine. Best send the super up with me. That way you ensure i will get to my destination safely and wont muck up the hallways with my stench of the working class.

Okay, rant over, back to gloating about my job. I get paid to do this:

She's two pounds! I win? I win.