Lovely Rita, Meter Maid

Nothing can come between us...

This is Dad's account of his and Mom's evacuation from Houston last week, when Hurricane Rita hit. It is a great story, and it made me laugh out loud at more than a few parts. Mostly because I can actually picture him sitting at his computer writing it, singing along to the lyrics he included and bouncing around in his chair (or, more likely, the couch.). Hopefully it'll work for you as well, with or without the visualization. I have reposted it here in its entirety, with his permission.

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NOT SO RANDOM THOUGHTS ABOUT HURRICANE RITA, OR HOW I EXPERIENCED THE EXODUS FROM EGYPT.

Hurricane Rita developed just three weeks after Hurricane Katrina destroyed parts of southeast Louisiana and the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Katrina did such a complete job of destruction that virtually the entire city of New Orleans evacuated – almost half of the residents of the greater New Orleans area came to Houston. When Hurricane Rita came across the Florida Keys into the Gulf of Mexico and was forecast to land near Galveston, Texas as a category 5 storm, Houston residents made and executed evacuation plans. Fortunately for Houston, but not for Beaumont, Port Arthur, Lake Charles and Cameron, Louisiana, Rita turned north and missed Houston almost completely. But the evacuation of Houston is the story I want to tell. Our story is not unique – some were better, some were worse, but this is our story.

Wednesday, September 21 was the day we decided to make plans to shut the synagogue down for the duration of the hurricane. That this occurred less than two weeks before Rosh Hashanah only added to our stress. Wednesday was the last day of school and the last day of normal office operations. Thursday morning we completed securing the synagogue and school, including moving more than 40 s’frei Torah and our white High Holiday mantles into the attic, collecting all Siddurim (prayer books) and Chumashim (Bibles) and storing them on tables, disconnecting all computers and electrical equipment and placing them on desktops and covering everything with plastic. We did a double tape back-up of our computer data so we could take each of the two copies in different directions. Our recently completed (one year ago) expansion and renovation had added a lot of storefront glass doors and windows – we decided we could not board all of this up, but we did board up the front entrance doors near the main sanctuary.

Robin and I initially thought about staying in Houston. Two weeks ago we moved into a three story, solidly built townhouse, so we could have easily stayed safe and dry, but the house is in a low area that has a tendency to flood a little – how much in a strong hurricane was unknown. But even though the house is four feet above the street and we would have easily been ok on the second or third story of the house, I didn’t want to be stuck there without power (read that – no air conditioning in 100 degree heat!). And I didn’t want to leave our cars in a low area to be flooded. So we decided to leave. We both filled up our gas tanks on Wednesday.

“Hello, Muddah…hello, Faddah…here we are at…Camp Grenada…”[1] We were initially going to leave Houston for Camp Young Judea in Wimberley, Texas, not far from San Antonio, about 180 miles west of Houston. Robin works in the office for CYJ and the camp director was opening the camp for people to take shelter. Wednesday afternoon I looked at the projected path of the storm, and at that time it was projected to make landfall near Matagorda, Texas, about 70 miles south of Houston and then track west and north through central Texas, right through San Antonio and Austin. Move right into the storm and stay at a camp in wood cabins in a low lying area? I don’t think so! My Momma didn’t raise no dummy! So we thought about going east, to Jackson or Gulfport, Mississippi where we have great friends. The drive to Mississippi would take 7 to 8 hours under normal conditions, so I checked with Southwest Airlines, but they were all booked up for flights to Jackson and New Orleans. I decided that if we were leaving, I needed to be closer than 7 or 8 hours by car. Also, the latest projection for landfall had moved to 60 miles EAST of Houston, not 70 miles south. So we decided to go to Austin – a 190 mile trip to the northwest – to stay with friends in a sturdy house (as opposed to the wooden cabins at CYJ). “Oh, you got to have frieeends, the feeling’s oh so strong. You got to have frieeends, to make that day last long.”[2] Besides I knew that our friends’ home had air conditioning and TV – Penn State was playing Northwestern in their Big Ten opener on ESPN2, and even though Penn State has been something short of a powerhouse in recent years, both teams opened the season 3-0 and had something to prove. I DO still bleed blue, even though I must admit my exuberance and confidence in the team and Joepa are down. “Fight on State! Fight on State! Strike your gait and win.”[3] So Austin it would be.

But first we had to secure our house. Not having lived there but for two weeks and not having experienced any flooding or heavy rains (heck, it hadn’t even rained at all in the two weeks we were there), we didn’t really know how high to move things, so we planned for the worst. We ended up moving nearly EVERYTHING to the second and third floors – all of our dry goods, bottled water to sustain us upon our return, clothes in the closet, our collections of menorahs and Wedgwood, pictures, books, golf clubs, most of our furniture – even the dining room table. The only things remaining on the first floor were furniture pieces too heavy for the two of us to move ourselves – the dining room breakfront, the living room couch, two living room end tables, my recliner, and the big TV. It was like we moved out just after moving in, but without the movers. We finally got to bed at about 2 am.

Thursday morning I went to the office at about 7 am. At about 10:30 we finished securing the synagogue. Robin came over and parked her car in the synagogue lot. The synagogue is reasonably high and did not take on any water during the floods of Tropical Storm Allison in 2001 – the worst flooding Houston had even experienced. The car had a full tank of gas and was loaded with water and food.

“Westbound and down, loaded up and truckin’. We’re gonna do what they say can’t be done…”[4] They were right – it couldn’t be done! We left town at 10:45 am. Robin started driving. I would eventually take a little nap. There are two main routes to Austin – Interstate 10/State Highway 71, and State Highway 290. Radio reports about traffic on both routes were bad. Even worse, though, were the reports on Interstate 45 north to Dallas. It’s a good thing we weren’t going there – reports were that it was taking 24 hours (normally 4)! I figured that Austin – normally a 2-1/2 to 3 hour ride (“…a three hour tour, a three hour tour…”)[5] – might take around 12. We had heard that just getting to Katy -- 20 miles to the west on I-10 was taking 6 hours. Knowing from experience that even on good days traffic on Interstate 10 going west from Houston to Katy was heavy, I decided to chance going south (actually west) on Highway 59 to Beltway 8 north to I-10, hopefully cutting out SOME of the worst traffic. All in all, and in hindsight, I think this was a good move. Traffic on Highway 59 was light all the way to the Beltway. We picked up the Beltway going north, and as I went up the access ramp I saw it was virtually a parking lot, so I crossed over the grass back to the frontage road. We stayed on the frontage road all the way to the entrance before the interstate, where we re-entered Highway 8, about 1-1/2 miles from I-10.

“I am a man of constant sorrow. I’ve seen trouble all my day.”[6] Then things got bad. Highway 8 approaching Interstate 10 was really a parking lot. There were two reasons for this – (1) the beltway intersection with the interstate reduced from six lanes to two, and (2) then you had to merge onto I-10, on which traffic wasn’t moving. This mile and a half took about 2 hours! Incredible! At this point we heard that TXDOT was opening the southbound lanes of I-45 to northbound traffic – the so-called “contraflow”. But even with that the northbound traffic wasn’t moving at all. Why TXDOT didn’t think of this a day ahead was unbelievable, but nobody ever accused the state government officials of ANY state of being the brightest kids on the block. I figured, though, that if they were opening “contraflow” on I-45 going north to Dallas, they would do the same thing on I-10 going west to San Antonio. I was right – they did establish a “contraflow” on I-10, but the only access to it was from the HOV lane – a single lane for high occupancy vehicles (3 or more passengers). Trouble was, you couldn’t get on the HOV lane unless you were already on it (you could get off, but that wasn’t very smart). So we watched with frustration as the traffic in the “contraflow” lanes moved along at 60+ miles per hour while we averaged 3 to 4 miles per hour at best. Smart officials!!! So we spent the time not moving more that we were moving, listening to traffic reports that went from bad to worse (no gas to be had), worrying if the car would overheat (“When you’re hot, you’re hot”[7]) and eventually run out of gas before we got to Austin. During one lengthy stop in the middle of the road, Robin and I switched places. “Back in the saddle again. Out where a friend is a friend…”[8]

Well, eventually we got to the Katy Mills Outlet Mall about 9 hours after leaving – normally about a 40 minute trip at worst. At this point I saw an opening to crossover to the “eastbound” lanes that were opened to westbound traffic. I had to backup into the normal HOV exit lane and cross into the “contraflow” – a “no-brainer” if there ever was one. What a difference – “flying” down the interstate at 65 miles per hour. Trouble was, it only lasted about 5 or 10 minutes before traffic backed up again (necking down from 4 lanes to 2). And now I was worried about how I would get off the interstate onto Highway 71 – if we ever would make it that far. There’s a rest area near Brookshire, about 5 miles past Katy. I thought that might be the opportunity to cross back over to the westbound lanes so I could exit onto Highway 71 at Columbus – whenever we would get there. I also thought that the rest area might be a decent place to take care of some personal bodily business. It was already almost 12 hours since we left. I saw an opening to re-cross the median and took it. It was still a half-mile or more to the rest area – only another 30 minutes! We eventually made it, pulled in to the rest area which was double-lined with cars. No toilet facilities, so we made our own. “Why don’t we do it in the road.”[9] Major relief!

“On the road again: Just can't wait to get on the road again. The life I love is makin' music with my friends, and I can't wait to get on the road again.”[10] Back on the highway, we sped down the highway at a max speed of 10 miles per hour, but mostly less than 5. Now I’m worried about the traffic on Highway 71 – is it just as bad as Interstate 10, better, or G-d forbid, worse? The next exit was Sealy. There was a truck stop. I pulled off, not really expecting to find gas, but figured it was worth checking. There must have been 300 cars and trucks in the lot. I thought I’d get a Coke – they were out – SURPRISE! So I bought a Dr. Pepper for me and a Sprite for Robin.

“And comin’ off the line when the light turns green. Well she blows ’em outta the water like you never seen. I get pushed out of shape and it’s hard to steer, when I get rubber in all four gears. She’s my little deuce coupe, you don’t know what I got.”[11] Back to the highway, or close to it. As we peeled out of the Sealy truck stop at a NASCAR-like 3 miles per hour, I decided to stay on the frontage road instead of the Interstate proper. I actually thought I might recognize a road that would take me north a few miles and then cut west to Highway 71 something north of Columbus.

“…and all the Jag could see were my six taillights.”[12] At this point I glanced up at the three lanes of westbound traffic – all you could see were red taillights. Thousands of red taillights. Two to three million people leaving Houston to get away from Hurricane Rita. Barely enough time to fill the car with gas, food and water and hit the road. To escape the wrath of Hurricane Rita. Some even thought about turning around and going back to Houston.

As I pictured this, I thought of the Children of Israel leaving Egypt. “When Israel was in Egypt land…”[13] Two to two and a half million people leaving Egypt the morning after the Angel of Death passed over the houses of the Israelites, killing the first-born of the Egyptians. Barely enough time to grab the matzah and run. In a hurry, a big hurry. To escape the wrath of Pharaoh. And after they left, many had thoughts about returning to Egypt.

What is this? A parallel concept! Two million leaving Egypt in a hurry. Two million leaving Houston in a hurry. No time for collecting food and water. No time for waiting for the bread to rise. People leaving their homes, losing their tempers in the congestion of the moment, complaining about this and that. People leaving their homes, losing their tempers in the congestion of the moment, complaining about this and that.

But eventually we made it to Columbus and Highway 71. Surprisingly the road was almost completely empty; everyone else going straight on to San Antonio. Being able to drive the posted speed limit (65 miles per hour), making it to Austin at 5:30 am, still with gas in the tank. 19 hours to make a 3 hour drive.

A little sleep. Shabbat dinner (kosher) with good friends. “I get by with a little help from my friends. Mm, I get high with a little help from my friends. Mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends, with a little help from my friends.”[14] Penn State beats Northwestern with a game-ending drive to start the season 4-0 and win their Big Ten opener for the first time in 6 years. “Hail! To the Lion, loyal and true. Hail! Alma Mater, with your white and blue.”[15] Drive home to Houston, in only 4 hours. “Goin’ back to Houston, Houston, Houston.”[16] No power; no air conditioning. Dayeinu!

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The footnotes are his, and they are at the bottom of this post. Dad reads this blog at least semi-regularly, so if you want to leave comments on his story, please do so below.

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[1] Alan Sherman, “Camp Grenada”

[2] Mark Klingman and Buzzy Linhart, “Friends”, as sung by Bette Midler

[3] “Fight on State”, author unknown

[4] With apologies to Jerry Reed, “Eastbound and Down” from “Smokey and the Bandit”

[5] George Wyle and Sherwood Shwartz, “The Ballad of Gilligan’s Island"

[6] Dan Tyminski, “I am a Man of Constant Sorrow”

[7] Jerry Reed, “When You’re Hot, You’re Hot”

[8] Gene Autry, “Back in the Saddle Again”

[9] John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “Why Don’t We Do It in the Road”

[10] Willie Nelson, “On the Road Again”

[11] Brian Wilson and Roger Christian, “Little Deuce Coupe”

[12] Jan Berry, Roger Christian, Artie Kornfeld, Brian Wilson, “Dead Man’s Curve”

[13] “Let My People Go”

[14] John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “With a Little Help from my Friends”

[15] James A. Leyden, “Hail to the Lion”

[16] “Houston”

A Few Things to Clarify

(listening to: New Slang, The Shins)

First of all, in response to the request of my friend Kristin, who sometimes goes by "K," there are two Jeffs that sometimes post comments on this blog. One of them is her husband, Jeff, my Road Trip compadre. (I was their Best Man. The Best.) The other, who also goes by "Jeff," is my friend Jeff, who is a kindred spirit of mine in that he is a die hard Texas Longhorn (currently in his senior year there) fan, as well as a die hard Boston Red Sox fan. At least, I'm assuming the second Jeff is this Jeff. I don't think I know any other Jeffs that read this blog that would post anything. If I'm wrong, someone please correct me. Hopefully this will clear up any confusion and potentially keep her husband Jeff out of trouble.

Secondly, and infinitely more importantly, to the guy I saw at Barnes & Noble the other day: It is no longer acceptable to wear "Bubba Gump Shrimp Company" memorabilia. Far too much time has passed since Forrest Gump came out for that to be in any way relevant or funny.

Worst. Sportswriting. Ever.

I like to read. I sort of fancy myself as a writer who doesn't write (short of this blog, which, I have confirmation, is now read by at least 5 people other than my parents), and that's what non-writing writers do. They read. A lot. And, having no job (or as my buddy Big Tall Andy has put it, "no visible means of support"), I have plenty of time to read, so I do. It's the only thing that I do that allows me to justify watching as much TV as I watch, which is approaching a record amount of time. In fact, just yesterday I defended my extensive TV watching out loud, telling Amanda, "Yeah, but I read a lot of books, too."

Last month, when I was in Houston, I borrowed a bunch of books from Mom. One of them was written by a guy who wrote one of my favorite books of all time, Fab Five, about the exciting all-Freshman starting 5 on the University of Michigan basketball team of 1992-1993 (when they lost one to the NBA. After that, they went nameless, because "Fab Four + One Random Dude" didn't really seem like a good nickname).



According to his website, he's been voted the #1 sports columnist in the nation for the past 13 years. His name is Mitch Albom, and he is a great sportswriter, as well as a great sports commentator, especially on ESPN's "The Sports Reporters" (before Dick Schaap died, at least, but I haven't watched it since - purely coincidental, though I can say with about 97.8% certainty that nobody else can do it better than Schaap).

The only reason most people have even heard of Mitch Albom, though, has nothing to do with his sports reporting. Most people, myself included, read Tuesdays With Morrie a few years ago, and really enjoyed it. Maybe we cried, maybe we didn't (I can neither confirm nor deny), but we most likely felt like it. It was a touching narrative about learning life's lessons from a beloved mentor, the most important of which, I'm pretty sure, is don't wait until your beloved mentor is knock knock knocking on heaven's door before you start learning life's lessons from him.

So, when I picked up The Five People You Meet in Heaven, I picked it up expecting something not quite as good as Tuesdays With Morrie, but at least in the same ballpark. Sort of like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 2, not quite as good as the original, but certainly worth the effort. Boy, was I wrong. I would like to slap the face of everyone who has read this book and given it a positive review, or even a slight recommendation, except Mom, because I would certainly never, ever, slap my momma. But the sentiment is still there.

Put simply, this book sucked. It was one huge cliche that was full of smaller cliches, it was more predictable than an episode of Jerry Springer (what? she's really a man? i don't believe it!), and to make matters worse, it really wasn't very interesting at all. The only part of the book that I sort of enjoyed reading was about Eddie's escape from a POW camp, but it took too long to get there, and after it was over, there was still too much left. (If I want an interesting story about a POW camp that ultimately fails to hold my attention, I'll watch The Deerhunter. Yeah, that's right, I said it. I didn't like The Deerhunter, either. Except for that scene with Walken playing Russian Roulette. Yikes!)

The main thing I hated about this book was the smug, holier-than-thou viewpoint Albom seems to have had while writing it. Does Mitch Albom, a sportswriter, claim to know what heaven is like, if there happens to be one? Who does he think he is, one of the creators of the Left Behind series?? And even if there is a heaven, how did writing about Jalen Rose, Bill Laimbeer and Bo Schembeckler give him a frame of reference?? Please, for the love of all things having nothing to do with God, go back to sportswriting!! Stop giving us more of this Chicken Soup for the Unimaginative Soul C-R-A-P.

As an unexpected bonus, however, I give you this. They have made this horrible book into a probably horrible movie, starring Angelina Jolie's dad, the dude from Dumb and Dumber, and Christopher from The Sopranos. This is probably worth a watch, just for the comedy factor. Straight to video. How shocking.

If there is a heaven, and you really do meet five people there, I hope one of my people is Mitch Albom, so I can tell him how much I liked Fab Five, and how much I hated Five People. I also kind of hope one of my people is Neil Diamond. Might make the transition a little easier if I could hear "September Morn" or "Shiloh" while my eternity begins to take shape.

Oh, See

With some leftover pad thai and a diet coke, it's time to watch last night's OC.

Sandy is being REALLY tough on Ryan. He must really be missing his quality time with the honey. That whole, "You need to think of a way to get out of this hole you've dug for yourself" thing. Man! I felt like I was 13 and just missed my own Bar Mitzvah dinner. (Actually happened, by the way. It takes a special kind of person to miss their own Bar Mitzvah dinner.)

Is Jimmy Cooper on Star Trek?? What's the deal with that cell phone earpiece?? Couldn't they get him one of those Bluetooth things?

New Dean is a DICK!! And he's totally banging Taylor Thompson. Probably already, but if not, it'll happen by the time Seth decides to wear a shower curtain to Harbor High's Halloween party. New Dean will be dressed like a skeleton, and Mr. Myagi is going to kick his ass in some parking lot.

Jimmy wants to marry Julie on Saturday. Caleb's will must be read on Monday. Close. Friday. After the will was read and Julie didn't get a dime, Jimmy looked like he was trying to sneak out after a one-night stand before the girl whose name he doesn't know wakes up. (Um, not that I know what that's like.) He's such a scumbag. I almost don't feel sorry for him after seeing him get forced into Jonesy's SUV like Tom Hagen in the Godfather. "Relax, consiglieri. If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already."

Jeri Ryan belongs on Days of Our Lives or something. I'm so impressed by her conniving-ness. Now it's time for some partial nudity. At least a bathing suit. Give me something!! I LOVE that the cabin isn't really her dad's, and that her check for the rental didn't clear. She and Jimmy must have the same banker.

Ryan and Marissa getting ready to have sex pales in comparison to Donna and David's ordeal. Call me crazy, but it's just not the same. Especially while the scenes are cut with other scenes of MILF goddess Kirsten checking into a seedy hotel with a bottle of vodka as "Mr. and Mrs. Stolichnaya," and Jimmy getting the Ralphie Treatment down by the docks. Just a bunch of weird stuff, set to the requisite indie ballad.

Damn, Jimmy got served down there. When Marissa went to see him on the boat after she woke up deflowered, his face looked, in the immortal words of Charlie Murphy (Chappelle's Show, Season 2, Bonus Disc, "I Want More" story), like a pizza. Somebody took him to the brick oven. Looked like Marcellus Wallace might have gotten his hands on him or something.

And, to be filed under "I loved this about last week's episode but forgot to mention it": I loved that Marissa was wearing a hoodie under a leather jacket when they went to crash the carnival, looking like Ryan when he first arrived in Newport, then got expelled from school on the spot. It was almost as if she was being expelled for her outfit.

A DH in the Making??

Amanda and I joined a rec softball league with one of her friend's older sister, and tonight was our first game. We won by forfeit - the other team only brought 8 people - but we played anyway just for fun. I, of course, was wearing my Red Sox hat, and playing center field, so I felt a little like Johnny Damon when I led off the 2nd inning with a single into the gap on the very first pitch. Felt good. My line for the game was two for three, with a single and a double and one RBI. Amanda was two for three as well, with two doubles and one RBI. The amazing thing was that she stretched out a bunt for one of the doubles. I did have two errors in center, though, possibly three, but I think I'm going to stick with two. Hopefully I can keep up the Damon-esque hitting next week but leave the Manny-esque fielding behind.

Because of the game, I had to Tivo the OC, and haven't watched it yet. I'll post my thoughts on that tomorrow. Promise.

You Don't Have To Take Your Clothes Off...

... to have a good time, no, no.

Clearly, the terrorist forces who implemented Hurricane Katrina overestimated our ability to overcome adversity. WE WILL NOT BE DEFEATED! WE WILL NOT LET THEM WIN!!

The South will rise again, or, at least, parts of it. I wonder if the girl in that picture enjoys watching the movie "Armageddon." (That's not a hurricane reference. It's a reference to something else entirely. Something I can't go into detail about, but those who know what I'm talking about know what I'm talking about.)

Live, Baby, Live

Well, I don't know how many people really care about this (off the top of my head, I can only name 3 other people who even watch the show, not counting Amanda, who I practically held hostage every Tuesday night), but last night's season finale of Rockstar: INXS was f'ing awesome!! Of course, I was right about J.D. Fortune winning it all. Check this out. Pretty cool. And yes, I know exactly how big of a dork I am.

Also, the other day, Jeremy posted his Top 10 "Frat Pack" movies on our "Blog About Nothing." I responded today with my Top 9. They were fun to write and to read, and 100% trivial, so if you're into that, you can read his here and mine here. Enjoy.

Professor, What's Another Word for Pirate Treasure??

Well, I think it's booty.

It turns out that we (and by "we" I of course mean "I") missed out on an ENORMOUS opportunity. Today, September 19, was International Talk Like A Pirate day.

Arrr.

Thankfully, they included a tutorial. I hope Amanda's ready for this.

Harry Potter and the LA Memorial Coliseum

Amanda and I went to our first Quidditch match this evening. It was really exciting. About 100,000 people showed up to root for Gryffindor House as they attempted to beat Hufflepuff and win the league. It was rather predicable, though, when Harry caught the snitch and saved the game, after battling the effects of a nasty spell cast, no doubt, by one of those sneaky Slytherins.

All kidding aside, USC is a scary football team. Granted, they played Arkansas, who is not exactly the team they were two years ago when QB Matt Jones pretty much singlehandedly beat my beloved Longhorns in Austin (which prompted me, acting in my official capacity (from my parents' living room), of course, to call for Mack Brown's job before the game was even over), but you have to be pretty damn good to score 70 points in one game, right? Of course, Texas Tech scored 80 today, and we have to play them in a few weeks, but I'm much more worried about having to face USC in the Rose Bowl on January 4 for the national title. (Yeah, I'm cocky, and no, I'm not worried about jinxing the Horns by saying that, mainly because I don't really think I have that much pull.)

I'll be the first to talk smack about USC's Mickey Mouse PAC-10 schedule, but they're not at all like the average PAC-10 team. They're more along the lines of an NFL team. I'm not saying they're on the same level as the Pats or the Colts, but maybe the Packers or the Bears. Not only do they have what looked to me to be about the most flawlessly executed offense I've seen in a college game maybe ever, they play in one of the most intimidating stadiums I've seen. This place, from the moment I walked in, was overwhelming. This was the text message I tried to send to Jeremy when the game started: "USC stadium is F'ing ENORMOUS. i feel very overwhelmed." I say I tried to send it because I couldn't even get cell service in there. That's some serious home field advantage, when you won't even allow anyone to signal for help outside your walls. I've got two pictures that sort of show how cavernous this place was, but I couldn't figure out how to combine them into one picture, so here's the left side:



and here's the right side:



It was a fun game, and I feel really bad for the older couple we talked to on our way to the tailgate, who were clad in Arkansas gear from head to toe. I don't know if they enjoyed it as much as some of the other people there.

PS - I just saw a statistic on ESPN.com that USC only had possession for 1:32 in the first quarter. They scored four touchdowns in the first quarter. If you can do the math on that, you'll see what I'm talking about.

OC Thoughts, Vol. 2

Ok, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to do another OC post this week, but dammit, I've got to mister!!! Forget that "real-time" stuff, though. Way too exhausting.

These are my thoughts on this week's episode:

1. First of all, what's the deal with Marissa?? Julie tells the principal, "You've seen my daughter. Tall, pretty, wears Chanel," then she shows up for the first day of school dressed like Joss Stone at the MTV Music awards? And why does Summer wear cowboy boots every day? I don't understand rich people.

2. Jeri Ryan and Kirsten in the cottage at Lake Arrowhead. Exactly how much are tickets to Shiksapalooza this year?

3. Jimmy Cooper is shaping up to be one world class schmuck. In the first two seasons, he was like the ultimate nice guy who had done some bad things but was genuinely trying to get his life back in order. Now he's back in town with conspicuous timing, saying things like "I left my wallet in the car, can't we just put it on Cal's tab?" CAL IS DEAD!!!

Not only that, but I'm about to make a prediction. I have no idea if this is on some website somewhere, but my prediction is that Jimmy is going to try to kill Julie. The look on his face when Julie joked about the gardener or the pool guy trying to kill her in her sleep b/c they haven't been paid since before Cal died was priceless. Of course, she couldn't pay them yet b/c she didn't have Cal's money yet. Then Jimmy re-proposes to Julie, taking her out to a dinner that he certainly can't afford (and will probably have her pay for anyway)?? No sir, he's going to marry her, then when she gets Cal's money, he's gonna bump her off, or at least try to bump her off. You heard it here first.

4. This new dean is like the devil incarnate. I don't even know what incarnate really means, but I've heard it used in that context before. In the context of new deans. Actually, I can't remember what that new dean's name is, so we're going to call him New Dean. This dude is pure evil. He reminds me of that Nicolae Carpathia from the Left Behind series. (Yeah, I read them. All of them. I know. I'm Jewish. Whatever, it's a good story) Anyway, where the hell did he come from, and why does he hate Marissa and Ryan so much if he's only been in town for a few weeks?? He's got a shady past, it's a guarantee. We'll find out more about it probably in episode 4 or 5.

Anyway, I actually cheered out loud when Ryan punched him in the face at the carnival. (And the answer is yes, I know exactly how ridiculous that last sentence sounds.) Here's another prediction. They should have ended the show with Don't Stand So Close To Me '86, by the Police, b/c that New Dean is going to be shagging new Aryan Antagonist Taylor Thompson before the kids get off for Christmas Vacation.

The best possible thing that could come out of this New Dean so furiously pursuing Marissa and Ryan's expulsion would be for Seth and Summer leading the entire Harbor High School student body in a chant of, say it with me, MARISSA COOPER GRADUATES!!!

One thing that sort of slipped past me last week was this: The cops are dead-set on busting Ryan for shooting Trey, then Trey comes out of his coma and Julie pays him off to frame Ryan for it, then Trey changes his story and signs an affidavit for the cops saying it was Marissa, then he immediately skips town, and the cops are ok with this?? There's no further investigation?? Of all the things that are ridiculous about this show, this one really bothers me.

Catching Up

(listening to: Gimme Shelter, Rolling Stones)

It's been a week, I guess, since I last posted, so let me bring you up to speed on what I've been doing since then.

One. Last Saturday, as you probably know (and if you don't, let this serve as notice), my Texas Longhorns pulled off what seemed like a huge upset over the #4 ranked Ohio State Buckeyes. I say seemed like because the Longhorns were actually ranked #2 at the time, and still are, incidentally, so technically, it wasn't an upset, although it sure felt like one at the time. We jumped out to a 10-0 lead in the first quarter, then our offense seemed to fall asleep. The 2nd and 3rd quarters were defensive battles, and theirs did a much better job, for the most part. The final three minutes of the game, which we started down 22-16 (it really is a testament to our defense that we weren't down 34-16), were probably the most exciting three minutes of football I've ever watched. We were held to only 2 field goals until the final three minutes of the game, at which point Vince Young woke up, pulled on his cape, and completely owned yet another Big 10 team.



My apologies to Jeff, Kristin, Spencer and Lani.

Two. Monday, my roommate Josh (not Amanda, the other roommate) came home from the gym with 2 free tickets to the Dodger game that night. $50 face value, field level, directly behind home plate. Here I am at Dodger Stadium.



So that was pretty cool.

Three. Tuesday night was another great night on what has now become my favorite reality show of all time, Rockstar: INXS. Everybody's giving such great performances at this point in the competition, which is just making the show better. They're down to the final three, with the finale coming next week, and I'm sort of proud to say that my initial pick to win it all, J.D. Fortune, is still around and getting stronger each week. As if my obsession with this show wasn't strong enough already, I have recently discovered that all of the contestants have their own blogs about their experiences on the show. Come on, like I'm not about to link to them.

The remaining three contestants' blogs: J.D. Fortune, Marty Casey, Mig Ayesa. Here's a little nugget from Mig's blog:

"People have asked me why I wear military jackets on stage and my answer is this - I think they look great and that just for the fact I am wearing them while on stage instead of on the battlefield is my little statement of make love not war."

Thanks, Mig. You're pretty weird, dude.

Four. I saw a commercial last night for some menopause medicine, and the spokeswoman was Cheryl Ladd. Cheryl Ladd is doing menopause commercials?? I mean, she's a little (but just a little) before my time as a premiere hottie, but I've seen the re-runs, and I've heard the stories, and even though she's not one of my generation's bombshells, it was still a little unsettling.

The strangest thing about the commercial was the website that they advertised. It was "www.talkingtoyourdoctor.com". Come on, is that the best you can do?? This is a completely ridiculous website to put on a commercial. It reminded me of that old Saturday Night Live fake commercial for Dillon/Edwards Investment Company, whose website, repeated over and over again, was www.clownpenis.fart. Maybe we're not too far away from that.

Five. The perfect complement to Cheryl Ladd pimping menopause pills to my mom's friends must be this: Britney Spears is now officially a MILF. (If you don't know what a MILF is, please don't ask me. It's not a conversation I want to have. You know who I'm talking to.) I'm sure both mother and baby are doing fine. Gross.

Blogging the OC from LA

We all know that I'm excited for the return of The OC, but right now I'm a little more excited than I was 30 minutes ago, because I just decided that in the style of the Sports Guy and my friend Micah, I'm going to real-time (sort of) the season premiere, and maybe each week, if I can manage it. In fact, I'm so excited, I just took a shower to get ready for the show. I have problems.

7:46 - I have 13 or 14 minutes to figure out what I want for dinner, make it, and eat it in order to not miss anything. I'm thinking I'd like some sushi, but I don't have that, so I might just go with a sandwich or something. I'll keep you informed, of course. Back in a few.

7:58 - Tuna sandwich, slice of tomato, and a Pabst. Best I could do. No excuses.

8:00 - Previously, on The OC, some white people drink a lot and a few of them die.

8:01 - Whose white light is that, on the way into the hospital. Trey's or Ryan's?? Is somebody listening to The Beatles' Revolver spun backwards?? What's the deal. Ah, the dream sequence. Classic. Wait, did Ryan stop and get a haircut after Marissa shot Trey??

8:06 - Marissa's sunglasses look like they cost more than my car. Of course, my car's in the shop right now, so I guess that's not saying much. In other news, Rachel Bilson needs to have a breakout season. She is, other than Adam Brody, the only kid on this show with a future in acting. (I can't decide whether or not to use their real names or their characters' names. This is a real problem for me. I'm truly conflicted. I'm just going to waffle back and forth for awhile, I'll settle on one or the other eventually.)

8:09 - My name is Ben, and I am addicted to teen dramas on the Fox network. Now that I'm in Cali, maybe I should enter rehab for something. That place looks like paradise!!

8:12 - Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Jimmy Cooper! Certainly one of the more enjoyable characters on the show. He's got to be legendary around Newport. Out of 5 of the main female characters on the show, he's slept with 2 of them (Julie and Haley - now starring in Reunion), kissed one of them (Kirsten - the shiksa goddess, according to show creator Josh Schwartz), and fathered another (Marissa). The only one he doesn't have some sort of connection to is Summer. Do I smell a plot twist come sweeps week?? Hopefully he'll be around that long, but as of now, Tate Donavan is still listed in the credits as a "special guest." We need him back full-time. Also, he seems to have the same view of lawyers as I do, and I am one (sort of). I like that.

8:16 - Trey just abruptly came out of his coma like something out of The Terminator. He probably has some sort of alien life form living inside of him that wants to do a lot of coke and eat everybody in Newport.

8:20 - First Reunion commercial. Awesome. I can't wait! Maybe I can enter rehab for my addiction to Fox teen dramas. AFTD. I have AFTD. It's a scientific fact.

8:21 - "That was the hospital. Trey woke up. WITH AN ALIEN LIVING INSIDE OF HIM." I made that last part up, but don't count it out just yet.

8:22 - Jerry Ryan and Kirsten Cohen, huh. Huge potential there. That would make it ok that they wrote off Alex last season. Really ok. And why the hell is Kirsten lying to Sandy about being allowed to go home?? Other than my own parents, the Keatons and the Walshes, these two are the model foundation for the stable family relationship. I do not like where this is going, unless it leads to Kirsten and Jerry Ryan in a hot tub or a jello wrestling match or something.

8:25 - Julie Cooper (who is nowhere NEAR as hot as everyone says) just brought Jimmy with her to talk to her lawyer about Caleb's will. Classy broad. Now she's flirting with the lawyer. Is it any wonder she did porn??

8:26 - BOAT TRIP!! Somebody get Cuba Gooding and Horatio Sanz on the phone, they're needed on deck. The girls are in bikinis and the dudes are in jeans. Reason number 437 why I love this show.

8:27 - Seth just made a great seaman/semen joke. I am a 10-year old. You know who you have to feel really bad for here?? The boat staff. The four of them were lying out on the deck of that huge yacht on their way out to whatever island they spent the day on. Who was sailing it?? The boat staff. The same boat staff who were probably sitting in the boat, playing cards and bitching about how those damn spoiled kids were running around the island, splashing around in the surf, and making s'mores around the campfire (And who started the fire? Probably the boat staff.) while they were just killing time until they could get them back to Newport safe and sound so they could get ready for the beginning of school. I bet they all slept with Julie Cooper. Probably at the same time.

8:30 - Julie's at the hospital. Is she going to sleep with Trey? Maybe the nurse? So many options. Wait, maybe she's going to kill Trey. Then sleep with him.

8:32 - iPod nano?? What the hell?? That thing looks so ridiculous. It looks like Ben Stiller's tiny cell phone in Zoolander.

8:36 - Ryan and Seth are watching Teen Wolf!! That is definitive proof that I would get along really well with the creator of this show.

8:37 - Julie Cooper's Guidelines to Newport Society, Rule Number 74: Mimosas are breakfast-appropriate. Thanks, Jules.

8:38 - Summer: "What does Ryan like to snack on?" Seth: "Dry cereal from the box and black coffee." Maybe that's why he's so brooding. He's ingesting way too much fiber and coffee to ever, EVER, stray too far from a toilet.

8:41 - Cops show up to arrest Ryan, but none of the kids are anywhere to be found. It's a good thing everyone always knows where to find anyone in this town. The cops showed up at the harbor just before the Fab 4 sailed off. Seriously, does anyone in Newport ever not know where someone is?? How is this possible? Are there only 12 people in Newport? Is the entire town like 4 square blocks?? Can somebody please help me figure this out??

8:46 - I don't really know what a candy striper is, but I think I might want one in my house.

8:51 - My theory is confirmed by Julie Cooper. "Marissa, you know how small this town is." Yes, Marissa knows, Julie knows, the cops know. Will somebody please explain it to me??

8:53 - Trey sneaks out of the hospital but is still buttoning his shirt when he gets to the bus?? This dude gets dressed slower than my sister.

8:54 - How did Ryan just find Trey at the bus station??

8:55 - How did Ryan just find Marissa at the lifeguard stand?? How the hell does this keep happening??

That's about all I've got tonight. I'm f'ing exhausted. In other news, I did just watch Reunion, and of course, they've still got some kinks to work out, but one more episode and I'll be hooked. I love the way they use so many songs from the year depicted in the episode. Maybe I'm hooked already. I have a real problem. AFTD. It'll get you too, if you don't watch out.

Thursday Night Lights

So, today has been pretty rough. My car died on the way to the shop this morning, and I had to call Triple-A to have it towed 5 blocks. Still no word on how much this fiasco's going to cost me, or when I'll get it back. Then I found out that, while my conflict inquiry cleared with flying colors, the job that was going to start on Monday is on hold indefinitely. Hopefully they'll come to their senses soon and bring me in.

Then I went to get a haircut, and the barber was this Russian Jewish guy, and when he was cleaning up around my neck, and I asked him if he'd shave just a little under the t-shirt line, he looks at me and says, "Getting older. Hair grow everywhere." Then he starts laughing. Thanks dude, you're a real pal. The guy couldn't have been a year or two older than I am, but I didn't have the heart to tell him that this has nothing to do with getting older, and that my summer coat started growing in back in high school. Bastard.

And if that didn't wreck my day enough, I went out for a run and my new running shoes, which my feet are evidently not quite used to, rubbed the back of my left foot raw and it started to bleed. So, I walked home, wincing with every step, and turned on the TV.

TV. Thanks to TV, my day just got better. Right now I'm flipping back and forth like a madman between two channels. On the first, the Raiders at the Pats, opening game of the NFL season. I've got Brady, Dillon, Vinatieri AND Randy Moss on my fantasy squad, The Los Angeles Straphangers of Jackson. This week I'm playing Briley, who drafted Peyton Manning with his #1 pick, then proceeded to draft the rest of the Colts team. Go Ravens. On the second, the Sox are losing to the Angels, which is somewhat painful to watch, but whatever, as long as the Yankees lose, right?

Not only am I flipping back and forth between both channels, I'm also toggling back and forth between 3 different websites. Wireless internet has got to be the greatest invention of the past 20 years, aside from the iPod. I've got my fantasy football league homepage open in one window, CBS Sportsline open in another for baseball stats on the Sox game, and I'm writing this post. I'm also carrying on two conversations over instant messenger. This being my first real experience combining the wireless internet with the TV watching, I have to say that I'm a huge fan, and I look forward to many happy years of watching sports and surfing the web at the same time.

Sports are great, I love sports. However, sports aren't even the main event tonight. The Sox are on TV, and the NFL is finally back in season, and neither of them are the main event. What is, you may ask? Sing it with me. California, here we come, right back where we started from. That's right, The OC is back!! Season premiere tonight at 8. Best part about living on the Left Coast is that the football game started at 6:00 here, so I can watch most of it before The OC starts. Early sports open so many doors.

The Sports Guy had a great article today, an exchange of emails back and forth with Josh Schwartz, the creator of The OC. You can read it here. Asks some great questions, and gets some great answers. Very enjoyable.

I can not wait for The OC tonight. I'm also pretty excited about Reunion, a new show that premieres after that. All in all, this Thursday afternoon is leading into a great Thursday evening. I hope our cable bill is paid up.

Love That Dirty Water

(listening to: Two Words, Kanye West)

This morning I got a call from one of the staffing agencies I registered with when I got to town, about a job starting on Monday (keep your fingers crossed, I think I find out tomorrow), and she needed me to fill out a conflicts inquiry and fax it back to her. Sounds easy enough, right? Unfortunately, there were some Dorfman-esque factors that were complicating this otherwise simple procedure. Unfortunately, our printer is down, so I could view it online, but I couldn't print it out. I then got online and found a Kinko's nearby where I could print the form and fax it in, as long as I could put it onto a disc and take it with me. Unfortunately, Amanda's laptop doesn't have a floppy drive, only a cd-rom, and we're out of blank discs. My next step was to get online and find another Kinko's not-so-nearby (about 2 miles away) that has internet capabilities, so I could get online there, print out the form, and fax it in. Unfortunately, my car is sort of dead right now, and I couldn't drive to the Kinko's, so I set out on foot for what would amount to roughly 3.5 miles roundtrip.

Here's where the story brightens up. About a block and a half from the house, I see this Box Store whose window advertises fax services. I figure, what the hell, let's see if maybe they have a computer where I can get online and print this sumbitch. A quick look around once inside tells me they don't. I'm discouraged, about to turn around and continue my trek, when the proprieter pokes his head out from behind a rack of rolls of bubble wrap and says, "Hey, nice hat!"

You see, I'm a Red Sox Fan. I have a Red Sox hat. I like to wear my Red Sox hat, and I was wearing my Red Sox hat today. This dude, the Box Store dude, he's from Boston. Turns out that was the turning point of this adventure. I asked him, "I see that you have fax services, but I need to print something out from an email and fax it in, do you also have a terminal where I could get online and print it??" He thinks for a minute and says,

"No, I don't ... but fahk it, you're a sawks fan, come on back."

He sets me up in his office, lets me get online on his computer, print out my 10-pager, sit there and fill it out, then faxes it in for me, and charges me way less than full price for the faxes. Unbelievable. Along the way, I picked up a few pieces of information:

1. His name is, quite predictably, Sean. I couldn't make this up. I don't know what his last name is, but I'm guessing it's either Sullivan or Murphy.

2. His father died in the mid-80's. His dying declaration was "Those fahkin' sawks."

3. Sean "shawt his wahd on the sawks" last season. He "watched Bucky Dent and Bucknah" and he just needs a rest. Maybe next season, he said, he'll be able to really follow them again.

4. If I wanted to go to Thailand, a roundtrip ticket might cost me around $700, but while I'm there, I can stay at a nice hotel with a pool for around $20 a night, and I could also get two hookers for the whole night for 30 bucks. Anybody got $750 I can borrow?? Just kidding, of course. Ha ha. Umm....

Anyway, Sean has restored some of my faith in humanity, not to mention the common bond of the Red Sox Fan.

In other news, I'd like to add that the title of this post has somewhat of a double entendre today. As I type this, there's a guy here to fix the disposal in the kitchen sink. A second ago, he says to me, "this stuff is gross because it's got food in it, it ain't just dirty water."

You got that straight, buddy. It ain't just dirty water.

I Gotta Have More Cowbell, Baby!

It finally happened. After over a month in Los Angeles, I finally had my first celebrity sighting. Yesterday, while looking for a pair of running shoes at the Beverly Center (yes, I run, on occasion), I came about a foot and a half from bumping right into The Continental himself, Mr. Christopher Walken.



He was wearing blue jogging pants, a blue t-shirt, and a rain hat pulled down over his fact. When I realized who I was trying to avoid walking into, my eyes lit up and he gave me this look that I can only describe as a combination of horror and hate. "Do not approach me," he said to me, without ever opening his mouth. Needless to say, when you get that look from Christopher Walken, you take heed. I wanted to tell him how all I really needed was more cowbell, but I was afraid I'd wake up in the middle of the night missing a finger, with him standing over my bed watching me sleep, then giving me some lecture about why he kept my watch in his ass for 5 years before making me play Russian Roulette. Trust me, it could have been bad.

Just for kicks, here's the transcript to one of the funniest skits in the history of Saturday Night Live. Or, if you'd like, you can watch the skit here. Enjoy.

Moving Forward

After the hurricane hit last week, I was having a really hard time dealing with what was happening back home, both on the Coast and in New Orleans. Certainly not as hard as many of my friends and their families who were there and evacuated, most of whom still have not returned home, but being so far away from it all seemed to add another aspect of hardship. Relying on CNN and text messaging for whatever updates I could get on whether my friends were safe, whether their homes were in tact or not was wearing me down, and I spent the better part of the past week in a daze. I'm happy to say that most of our worst fears were not realized, though some were, and my thoughts are certainly with those who have lost homes and businesses in this horrible tragedy.

I know many areas of Mississippi and Louisiana are a very long way from even beginning the rebuilding process, but I also know that the people that I know and love in those places are the best ones possible to take the reins once the process is ready to begin and to lead the efforts in my collective home of Long Beach (and the rest of the Gulf Coast) and New Orleans to restore them to what they should be, which are wonderful places to grow up and to live and to experience the best of what the South has to offer, which is the hospitality and character of this country's strongest and friendliest people.