"I Remain"

POSTED BY BK
I received a thank you note from a friend/business associate of mine recently. I noticed something peculiar about how he signs his correspondence. Instead of finishing with the boilerplate Sincerely (This also strikes me as a funny way to complete a letter. It's like saying, "so everything I wrote prior to this wasn't bullshit. I meant it. I was being sincere"), Regards, Best Regards (These aren't just your average regards, these are the best regards I can possibly give you), Love, With Love, Hugs and Kisses, From, etc., he writes, "I Remain" before he signs his name and seals the envelope. After pondering this, I decided that I like this ending and have decided to incorporate it into my own written correspondence. But what does it mean??? Here are some possible interpretations that I've come up with:

1) I haven't changed my name and gone into the Witness Protection Program since our last phone conversation.

I Remain, Brad Kaplan

2) I had considered changing my name to a Muslim Name (like Lew Alcindor switching to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar or Cassius Clay to Muhammad Ali). After much introspection, I've decided against it. I'm sticking with the name my parents gave me. Sticking with it. A strong, albeit run of the mill, Jewish male name. Bradley Michael Kaplan. Brad Kaplan. Brad Kaplan. Brad Kaplan. Brad Kaplan.

I Remain, Brad Kaplan

3) With my increasing fame, I've decided to take on a stage name. Something similar to Cher, Queen Latifah, Prince or Ludacris. But you knew me on my way up. I keep it real. You and I are tight. We have a longstanding personal relationship. Hence,

I Remain, Brad Kaplan

4) I just had my tonsils out. A harrowing experience--could have died. Laugh all you want. It's surgery. I was put under. But I survived. I survived. Not only did I survive, I flourished.

I Remain, Brad Kaplan (stronger than ever)

5) They are building a nuclear power plant right in my town. Right behind my house. My family is moving. My friends are moving. Nuclear waste will fill my yard. My water supply will be contaminated anytime now. I don't care. This is where I'm from. I'm staying.

I Remain, Brad Kaplan

Jarlsberg versus Gouda--The Tale of the Tape

POSTED BY BK

The Battle of the Cheeses!!!! Like Ohio State vs.Michigan, Rocky vs. Drago, Democrats vs. Republicans--not hardly. This is more like Kaplan vs. Sensible Eating, Shapiro vs. Gallinson (when will they ever see eye to eye?), Frishberg vs. Bailey, Frishberg vs. Markowitz (Dale), Kaplan vs. Mangoubi, Ben Kaplan vs. Ludwig, Linds Kaplan vs. Mikey Jacobs, you get my meaning.

So let me be clear--why am I matching up the Gouda versus the Jarls? These aren't my favorite cheeses (those are more the roquefurt, gorgonzola, quality aged cheddar and the harder aged italian varieties). We're discussing Gouda and Jarlsberg, because to me, they represent the first move into higher end cheeses. As a college senior (SEEEEEEEEEEENIORS!), I had 3 roommates (Beltzman, Shapiro and Forman). The 4 of us used to do our grocery shopping as a group and split the bill 4 ways. Shapiro and I made it a mission of ours to always sneak one higher end cheese into the cart under Beltzman and Forman's noses. This typically involved a 3 step process:

1) Obtain temporary control of the cart and strategically place the cheese underneath a larger item within said cart.

2) At the checkout line, run diversion/interference while the checkout gal scanned the cheese. This usually involved introducing the idea of an after grocery shopping meal at Spurs (Biggggg Salads and Biggg Drinks!) at the precise, critical moment (it sounds easier than it was).

3) Making sure that the receipt ended up in the right hands (ours), so that it could be discarded to avoid later audit and scrutiny.

So our system was down. But which cheese would we pick? Gouda or Jarlsberg? Jarlsberg or Gouda? It's amazing that 2 college students would go to such lengths to obtain a $9 cheese. I think it was more than the cheese. The cheese represents something bigger. Much bigger. What that is, I have no idea....

So which cheese? I've created some different categories and by plugging both Gouda and Jarlsberg into each of these categories, we'll come up with our winner. Without further ado...

TASTE--Regular Gouda is a mild, creamy, lighter tasting cheese. Sometimes it has a slightly nutty, smoky flavor. Jarlsberg is a sweeter, sharper taste. It's nutty flavor is less pronounced than Gouda. Basically it tastes like awesome Swiss Cheese. I love Swiss Cheese. The Pick: Jarlsberg

COUNTRY OF ORIGIN: Gouda comes from the city of Gouda in the Netherlands. I like the Dutch ("What kind of a name is Todd Gack anyway? I think its Dutch"). Also there was a guy in my 4th grade class named Pieter Herman. Dutch fellow. Pretty good guy. Looked like a 4th grade version of Rik Smits (was he Dutch? I think so). Even though Jarlsberg is the world's most famous "baby swiss" cheese, it's actually a product of Norway. I don't have much to say about Norway, other than I took a Scandinavian Literature class my Freshman year of college (SS RODLEY) and I enjoyed the class. However, it took place on the top of Bascom Hill. Getting up that hill in January was the type of walk that made a man crave a good piece of Jarlsberg when he completed it. The Pick: Gouda

TEXTURE: Gouda is a semi-soft cheese. By that I mean its firm on the outside, but softer as you cut it or bite into it. Sometimes it has that harder rind with the smoky flavor (depending on how long it's aged). The exterior and interior of the cheese, has a kind of yin and yang thing going on that provides a contrast in texture and flavor which is sometimes highly enjoyable or sometimes makes you sick to your stomach. Jarlsberg is a firmer, denser cheese. It has the hole formation like a swiss cheese, which looks strikingly similar to my brothers chest (aka: The Holy Moly). The Pick: Jarlsberg

SMELL: Jarlsberg has a perfectly lovely and unintimaditing odor. It doesn't have the pungent smell of a lot of bleu cheeses. Gouda has a very smoky flavor, it almost smells like bacon. That's never bad. (In fact, why isn't there a bacon cologne? a bacon shampoo? Wouldn't there be a market for these products?) The Pick: Gouda

NAME: This is a tough one. Clearly, Gouda is great. Rolls right of the tongue. Its great to use in sentences in exchange for the word good (Example: Question: "Brad, how was work today?" Answer: "It was gouda"). Jarlsberg doesn't have the same cache on the surface. However, when shortened to Jarls it's a lot more catchy. Especially when you stretch out the first syllable (Jaaaaaaaaaaarls). Try it the next time you've had a couple drinks. It's a pretty good word. Still, as gouda as Jarls is, it's not as gouda as Gouda. The Pick: Gouda

MELTABILITY: Jarlsberg gives you a good even melt (Think a turkey reuben, with extra tasty cheese). Gouda melts ok and the melting accentuates the smoky, bacon flavor (a plus), but you have to have a pretty good toaster to get the center to melt through consistently. I have no such toaster. The Pick: Jarlsberg

VERSATILITY: I read online that Jarlsberg can be used as a Table Cheese (I love the sound of this, I'd like a table made of cheese), a Sandwich Cheese and a Dessert Cheese. It goes well with Wine, Beer and Aquavit. I've heard of Aquavit, but never really tried it. Here is the definition from dictionary.com-- A strong clear Scandinavian liquor distilled from potato or grain mash and flavored with caraway seed. That's it--I'm going out to get a bottle (I'll for sure hate it and it will sit in my cabinet until I move, but I'm dying to have a small glass right now). Gouda is apparently also a Table Cheese and a Dessert Cheese. It is good with fruit and wine. My friend Jon "Jack" Stillman bought me a condiment called Mostarda Senapata which is basically a jam, only not especially fruity. Its made of Balsamic Vinegar, Mustard, Pears and Quinces. It's fantastic on Gouda. Screw it though, I'm more of a sandwich guy. The Pick: Jarlsberg

APPEARANCE: Both cheeses are easy on the eyes. Gouda comes in that waxy package, usually red wax (kind of like that gross candy that you get in those clear plastic bags at the drug store. You know, those wax sticks that you bite into and pour that vile sweet liquid down your throat. I always hated that stuff). Gouda, though, is great to peel into and take apart. Jarlsberg comes in a big ass triangular block that is kind of what George Costanza longs for in the "Summer of George" episode. The Pick: Gouda

DECISION: Well, I created 8 categories and we're deadlocked at 4 for each cheese. So it boils down to this....I'm going to my refrigerator for a snack, which cheese do I want? It's a no brainer--the clear winner is Jaaaaaaaaaaarlsberg. Afterall, it's just Gouda. (Bring on the Aquavit).

One Boy's Love of Cereal

POSTED BY EL SHAZZARINO, GUEST CONTRIBUTOR

What kind of sick irresponsible parent lets their kid eat Cookie Crisp? Admittedly when I was a young buck I couldn't get enough sugary cereals. Give me a goofy cartoon spokesperson and a box full of marshmallows (On a side note the marshmallows in cereal aren't really marshmallows at all. They seem to be sugar cubes colored and shaped to look like anything from a purple horseshoe to a blue ghost.) and I'm in heaven. The more artificial they made a cereal look, the more I wanted it. Let's be honest there are definitely colors in a box of fruity pebbles that don't exist in nature, unless you consider a toxic waste spill a naturally occurring event. Yes, give me a self loathing rabbit who refuses to grow up, a paranoid leprechaun, a psychedelic toucan, or an obviously intoxicated cuckoo bird and I will be at their command.

Kids have never had a chance against the evil cereal corporations. Are Kellogg's and General Mills really any better than Phillip Morris and RJ Reynolds(In fact I researched it and General Mills isn't even a real General). One could argue that the cereal makers offer healthy options as well. To that I say that the cigarette companies offer light and even ultra light now. You may say that second hand smoke harms those who don't even smoke. Well I don't know about you, but I've taken a shard of captain crunch in the eye and dammit IT HURTS!

The truth is kids are ill equipped to combat the barrage of sneaky tactics from cigarette or cereal corporations. They are in it for the buck and they'll do whatever it takes to get kids hooked on their version of crack. This is why the parents are our last line of defense. So I again pose the question.....What kind of parent lets their kid eat cookie crisp?

The problem is we live in a world where people eat dessert for breakfast. How can a parent who goes to starbucks every morning for a double tall vanilla late and a triple fudge brownie, tell his kid to eat a half a grapefruit. And are people so aloof as to not realize the big Entenmann's scam. People, just because someone put the word coffee in front of the word cake, doesn't mean that they've found a nutritious breakfast to have along side your coffee. It's cake! Okay! You're eating a piece of cake for breakfast. Muffins, Donuts, Danish (a doughnut with no hole), twinkies, sno balls, nutty bars when did these become part of your complete breakfast. Oh do I love that saying..."It's part of your complete breakfast". How did advertisers slip this one past us. Cigarettes, coffee, and a mini milky way bar, they're part of your complete breakfast. Are mom's really buying into it when Barney Rubble tells them that cocoa pebbles are part of their complete breakfast. What the hell is the matter with people. Complete doesn't mean anything, it's an empty modifier. If I don't eat breakfast than air is part of my complete breakfast, in fact it's all of my complete breakfast. My friend had 3 shots of tequila and a bagel this morning, so 3 shots of tequila was part of his complete breakfast.

I like cereal, to this day I love it. These days I eat healthy cereal. I like muesli and granola and puffed wheat. Maybe I grew out of my desire for sugared cereal. Maybe I only wanted them when I was young because my mom wouldn't keep it in the house. She may have her flaws but she wasn't dumb or blind. She was sharp enough to realize that modifying the word cookie with the word crisp, doesn't change the fact that you're feeding your child a bowl of cookies for breakfast.

The fastest I ever ran was the morning my little sister was born. At some point during the night my parents had left for the hospital and my grandma had come to the house to look after me and my brother. I slept through all of this. What woke me was my brother bursting into my room and screaming. What did he scream that made me spring out of bed and set my own personal record for land speed travel? It wasn't that we had a baby sister or that there had been complications at the hospital. No, he screamed "Dee Dee is throwing away all the cereal!" She claimed there were ants in the boxes. I still don't know if there were. But I swear to Allah, that with my 5 year old legs I made it down 14 stairs in three steps. Don't fuck with my cereal, not then, not now, not ever.

My five favorite cereals of all times(in no particular order)....
1.Buck Wheats (no longer made)
2.Team Flakes (no longer made )
3.Crispy Wheats N' Raisins (I believe no longer made)
4.Double Dip Crunch (a.k.a. double crunch) (no longer made)
5.Cocoa Krispies (mainly for the chocolate milk that's left behind)

Three Cereals I'd like to see on shelves
1. O.J. Crunch--A mix of crunchy heisman trophies, 3s, 2s, and buffalo bills insignias. Combined with marshmallow Officer Nordberg badges, bloody daggers, and black gloves
2. Dubya Krispies--The box tells you that its sweet puffs of corn and rice. In truth its salted Iraqi toenails seasoned and packaged by Halliburton. Labs have confirmed this but the administration still insists that they are sweet puffs of corn and rice (at least that's what their intelligence tells them.)
3. Tobacc-O's--A smooth mild flavor rolled into crunch cylinders. Also available in menthol.

Ill close by saying that many people have poured beer over cereal at one point in there life. Possibly because there was no milk, but more likely because they were hungover and thought it would be funny. My point is, that anyone who tells you that they enjoy beer on cereal is a liar and you should never trust a word they say. Believe me. I've had beer on cereal, it tastes like shit.

SHOO BE DOO WOP

POSTED BY LINDSAY, GUEST CONTRIBUTOR


I am not a superstitious person. You won't find me avoiding cracks or crying about a mirror I broke five years ago. I do strongly believe however, that since I left college I have developed the curse of the bad hangover. Don't get me wrong. At least 75% of my college experience was spent nursing Mango Madness Gatorade. Unfortunately, Gatorade, Kirkland Ibuprofen and french fries do nothing but frustrate me when it comes to the chronic headaches I am currently awoken with at least twice a week. Exhibit A: Last weekend my parents were in town and instead of enjoying the potentially great hangover lunch I could have ordered at Lux Bar, I used all of the strength in me to keep from vomiting in my chicken noodle soup. I've examined the possibilities. Sure I'm getting older, I can't even fathom the idea of downing the Bacardi Limon shots that I took like water in high school. I think at one point I could've actually mistaken the vile liquor for water. I decided when I moved to Chicago that it was time to leave the After Shock and Mumms (even though you can buy a whole bunch of it) in the past. My new idea was to go to the most expensive bars in the Gold Coast and order $12 Kettel on the rocks. I figure, why not spend my hefty babysitting salary on these extravagant cocktails, I'm an adult now. Why is it then, that I cannot shake these headaches and painful nausea waves? Reverting back to the examination of my history of drinking, I realized that my first two years of college intoxication were almost entirely provided by the filthy Kool Aid, Everclear mix commonly known at Indiana as Jungle Juice. I've now been tortured into referring to it as Wop, due to nameless Badger influences. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about, and if that's the case, you obviously were a loser in college, Wop is most often served at fraternity parties out of a large garbage can. Aside from the Kool Aid and Everclear, there are usually traces of pledge urine and broom stick bacteria, used to stir the disgusting concotion. Why, I wonder, does this grain alcohol that costs less than half a Kettel cocktail at Rockit never bring me the headaches that presently torture me every weekend? It is now my latest mission to bring Wop cocktails into bars all over Chicago so I can remember my college days when Saturday's consisted of nothing but looking forward to 9:00 pm when I could begin drinking again. Aside from these new Wop cocktails, (I'm going to encourage the "Wop on the rocks"), I have developed some other new drink ideas that I think you might find amusing.

-The Yoo Hoo Martini

-The Ice Cold-(a drink so cold that you have no idea what's in it, you're too distracted by the frigid temperature)

-Any alcohol mixed with Welch's grape juice (it's a very underrated juice)

-The Vodka Salt- (vodka mixed with salt instead of juice, tonic, ice, etc)

*Note to readers: Don't attempt to steal my ideas, I'm planning on having all of them copyrighted this week.

A Eulogy For Dudley

POSTED BY BK




I was recently informed that my cousins' (The Shefman's) dog, Dudley, died roughly 10 years ago. I never had the chance to say goodbye.

Dudley, I didn't know you that well and I don't really like dogs. I remember you as being kind of a loud dog and not overly friendly or playful. You never bit me though. I appreciate that. And I always liked that you shared a first name with Arnold Jackson's friend on Diff'rent Strokes. I hope you are in a happy place. You will be missed.

My Date with The Boob

POSTED BY BK
So last night I had a bachelors' evening with my friend, Scott Miller. His wife was out of town and my wife had her mom in, so it was a rare guys night out. This was an opportunity for an evening of gluttony in the form of doing tequila shots until we were no longer functional. It would be coupled with the debauchery of finding the seediest strip club within 60 miles of our whereabouts. At the very least we'd find a casino where the craps tables offer 100 x 1 odds on the come line. Yes, this was our night. We were going to smoke cigars that would make Castro jealous, find an underground poker club, maybe hop a plane to Vegas if the mood struck us. There was one problem--both Scott and I adhere to a strict 10 PM bedtime (different beds, mind you) and our bachelor night, would as expected, take on a different form of gluttony. We may not be able to take part in the activities described above, but we'd certainly have an evening of decadence.

The big question on our minds was where would this holiday feast take place. It was an important decision. We needed to choose a place that both his wife, Maxine, and my wife, Kristyn, would be remiss to go to. This would take a ton of thought, planning and deliberating in order to make the best possible decision. Here were the candidates we narrowed it down to:

1) Thai Lagoon--Down and dirty Thai Food. Very, very cheap. About 4 tables in the whole restaurant. Can have a meal that would feed 12 people (or the two of us on a night such as this) for under $40 for both of us, including tip. High quality stuff.

2) Angelica's Restaurant--An authentic Polish restaurant specializing in Cabbage Rolls, Pierogies and of course, Old Fashioned Butterflied Pork Chops.

3) Fat Willy's Rib Shack--A no frills barbeque joint featuring great ribs, chicken and brisket sandwiches with terrific homemade sauce.

4) Genarro's--Pound for Pound, the best Italian restaurant (and possibly the best restaurant, period) in Chicago. Home of my Bachelor Party. Seared Pork Chops with Peppers, Potatoes and Garlic. Braciole that your grandmother couldn't make nearly as well on a dare. Stuffed Melrose Peppers when in season. A restaurant that requires you be buzzed in to gain access. Pure brilliance.

5) Joy Yee Noodles--Chinese restaurant in a Chinese mall in Chinatown. Offers probably 400 dishes out of a kitchen that probably isn't much larger than mine. It is one of those places that has a photograph of every menu item and wax replicas of several of their entrees in the window. All of this is working against it, yet its ridiculously good. Great Korean Short Ribs. Terrific Mango Smoothies with enough tapiocas on the bottom to choke a small cow.

6) Kohan Japanese Restaurant--This is a new place that just opened near UIC that is a Japanese steakhouse that Boob wanted to try. Two things attraced me to this place. First, I thought it might be like Ginza in Madison which I haven't had since 1997 and it sounded pretty good. Second, the name was strikingly similar to "Kohen" which is a jewish tribe. When Kristyn was pregnant and there was a chance that we might have a boy, I was obsessed with the possibility of having a Pidyon Haben ceremony. In the Jewish Religion, this takes place for the First Born Son of a First Born Son (which I am, my Dad was, and my Papa Stan was). Basically, the first born son is technically property of the priesthood or Kohanim tribe and the family has to pay 5 shekels in order to redeem the son from the Kohen. So until we found out the sex of the baby, I was obsessed with finding a Kohen to perform the ceremony and to buy my son from. I asked every male jew I know what tribe they were (I'm a Levite). As it turns out, the Kohen are a pretty rare breed. Through my extensive search I found a grand total of two Kohanim--My Papa Morty, who passed away about 9 years ago (so he was out) and Donald Cohen (Donco) who lives in New Jersey (I live in Chicago). As everyone knows, we had a girl who I wouldn't trade for anything so it became a moot point. It would have been fun though to fly Donco into Chicago for the ceremony (according to my friend Jared, Donco knows this great Irish place that has unbelievable corned beef and I was hopeful that he might bring me a sandwich).

7) I don't know the name or location of this place--Scott wanted to go to this restaurant on the Southside that only serves apple fritters (apparently great apple fritters). I ruled this out, as I prefer salty foods over sweet.

Keep in mind none of these places would show up in Zagat's under highest rated anything. Pay it no mind. These may not be places where you'd take your lady for Valentine's Day, but for hard core eaters, you'd be hard pressed to find better dining options in all of Chicago.

Anyways, after a lot of back and forth, we decided to give Kohan a try. I failed to mention this earlier, but another draw to it was that its on Maxwell Street, right next to the Maxwell Street Polish Sausage stand (which should have been under consideration for our actual dinner). In the back of my mind I figured if the meal was a bust, I'd get a Polish for the car ride home.

So the rest of my story is somewhat anticlimactic as the meal was ok, but not especially memorable (although the company was first rate). The restaurant specialized in Hibachi and Sushi and naturally we each ordered both. Some of my other notes from the evening:

-Boob is an extremely slow eater (He makes Oren Fox seem like Kobayashi). Next time we go to dinner, I'm going to have him go at 6:00, I'll meet him at 8:30 and we'll still complete our meals at the same time.

-Boob made a comment to me that someone mistook him for a 23 year old recently. I found that hard to believe. Since there were a lot of college aged people at this restaurant (since it is on the UIC Campus), it got me to thinking. If you asked a sampling of patrons that didn't know either one of us, to guess whether we were UIC students or UIC professors, how do you think the majority would vote? I'd say no question, they'd guess professors. Afterall, we both wear glasses and are paunchy (frankly, in my opinion, the only thing missing would be matching tweed blazers with elbow patches). Boob apparently thinks he could still pass for a ZBT pledge (even if he did look 23, he acts 73, so that puts him at an age of at least 48). Anyone that wants to weigh in on this topic, be my guest....I've posted photos of both of us.

-I ordered a piece of white tuna nigiri and it was literally stark white (the color was comparable to a marshmallow, a piece of copy paper or Evan Gallinson's backside).

So as a final comment, Kohan is not really a restaurant I'd recommend to eat at or to find a Kohen at. Even with me languishing and watching the place clear out as Scott continued to clear his plate, he still managed to get me home before 10:00 (Good man). Boob and I have another date planned for this coming Friday and a better meal can be guaranteed. Also, Boob if you're reading this, try and show up at the restaurant on Wednesday (Thursday, at the latest) and start eating. I'll meet you Friday at 7:00.

Dora The Explorer--A Critical Analysis

POSTED BY BK

A morning in the life of Yours Truly goes something like this:

-Alexis wakes up between 6:30 and 7:00 AM

-I then wake up between 6:31 and 7:01 AM (on the good mornings the other 250 or so unit owners in our building wake up also)

-A bottle and diaper change ensue

-The next hour is spent doing a myriad of activity (god bless the fine people at Fisher Price, Baby Einstein, LeapFrog, etc.)

-At 8:00 AM sharp the 2 of us proceed to watch Dora the Explorer together, before I leave for work

This is an activity that Alexis loves and I'm not ashamed to say that it is a guilty pleasure of mine also. For those not familiar with the show, 7 year old Dora, spends roughly 22 minutes roaming the forest/jungle with her trusty sidekick, Boots the Monkey. Normally, their adventure involves traveling from Point A to Point D, while passing through Points B and C, to get to their intended destination. I don't have any real issues with this per say, other than I don't find it entirely plausible that Dora can make it from her home (where is her home anyway? Mexico? South America? The West Side of Chicago? Somebody tell me--I'd really like to know!!!) to a destination such as the South Pole on foot in 22 minutes (there are no commercials, but still?). Now there is no question that Dora sets a good example for your children, but I'm not quite sure what kind of example Dora's parents (Sr. and Sra. Marquez) set for me as a parent, letting their 7 year old roam aimlessly around the jungle unsupervised without a care in the world. Nevertheless, I'm willing to give the creators a pass, given that 1) I'm probably not their target audience and 2) the music is catchy, the dancing is good and the animation is substantially better than the Superfriends cartoons I watched 25 years ago.

All of that said, I watched an episode the other morning (Tuesday, I believe) that I found totally implausible and I felt compelled to point out some of my issues with this particular show. The episode started out with Dora's extended family gathered around their family room preparing to watch a nationally televised soccer match. It was reminiscient of that scene in Jerry Maguire where Rod Tidwell's family watches him take a career ending hit and immediately resurrect his career all during one half of Monday Night Football. Instead of Tidwell, the family on Explorer was gathering to watch Dora's 15 year old cousin Daisy play in this particular soccer game. After the ceremonial handshakes, the referee was ready to get play underway when the show took an unexpected turn. It turned out that Daisy's team was short a player and the referee was pushing for them to forfeit the game. At this point Daisy looked directly into the camera and, like the Diving Coach in Back to School, said something to the effect of "Mellon, We Need Ya, Get Your Suit On!" (She really said, "My cousin Dora can play soccer"). So now we've got a capacity crowd at this Soccer Stadium, not to mention what I have to assume is a large television audience, waiting around for Dora to show up to start the game (I don't know who the advertisers were for this soccer telecast, but one has to suspect they were pretty livid. Also, from what you hear about soccer crowds, there is almost a 100% chance that a riot would have ensued). Dora, meanwhile, is taking her sweet time pondering if she should participate in this game. Her parents, while encouraging her to go play, certainly aren't doing anything productive to help (such as offering her a lift to the stadium). I would think a police motorcade would be available to her in a situation such as this. Nope--she is just pushed out the front door, where her and Monkey friend, Boots, are now responsible for meandering to the stadium at a snail's pace, without a care in the world. One big problem though (a recurring theme in all the episodes), THEY DON'T KNOW HOW TO GET TO THE STADIUM!!!! Fortunately for Dora (and the hundreds of thousands of people waiting for this game to start), she has her trusty friend, The Map (or Map), to provide directions.

Now a few words about The Map: while he has a good disposition and a nice enough singing voice, he's perhaps a little cocky based on the quality of directions that he provides. As I mentioned earlier, Dora and Boots, at times travel pretty long distances. If they were going from, say Cleveland to Pittsburgh, I'd tell them to go to Yahoo Driving Directions and their directions would look something like this:

Directions

1.
Starting in CLEVELAND, OH on W SUPERIOR AVE go toward PUBLIC SQ - go 0.1 mi
2.
Turn Right on ONTARIO ST - go 0.6 mi
3.
ONTARIO ST becomes BROADWAY AVE - go 0.1 mi
4.
Take Left ramp onto I-77 SOUTH toward AKRON - go 15.8 mi
5.
Take exit #146/OH-21 onto I-80 EAST - go 46.3 mi
6.
I-80 EAST becomes I-76 EAST - go 51.2 mi
7.
Take exit #28 onto I-79 SOUTH toward PITTSBURGH - go 6.9 mi
8.
Take Left fork onto I-279 SOUTH toward PITTSBURGH - go 11.5 mi
9.
Take exit #8A onto I-579 SOUTH toward VETERANS BRIDGE - go 0.9 mi
10.
Take the 7TH AVENUE/6TH AVENUE exit onto BIGELOW BLVD - go 0.6 mi
11.
Turn Right on 6TH AVE - go <>

The Map on the other hand would tell them, "First, you leave Cleveland and look for the tall building, next you cross over the noisy bridge, and that's how you get to Pittsburgh." THATS IT!!! I'D BE LOST IN 5 SECONDS!!! Honestly, which directions would you pick???

There must be a method to his madness, however, because I've probably seen 50 or so episodes and not once have Dora and Boots gotten lost. In contrast, a couple of years ago I was late for Jaden Beltzman's bris, because Yahoo Driving Directions told me to turn on a street that was no longer there. Score one for The Map--let's move on......

So now, with directions in tow, Dora and Boots are ready to head towards the stadium. You'd think there would be at least some sense of urgency and single mindedness to get there post haste, but NOOOOOO, as expected, that's just not the case. They have plenty of time for singing, dancing, frolicking around and attending to routine problems that the animals in the forest are having (which certainly could be handled without the help of the Almighty Dora and Boots, but whatever). 20 minutes of this absentmindedness goes on, before they finally reach the Soccer Stadium (well done, Map, well done!).

So now I'm thinking, at least maybe I'll see a good sports scene out of this, something comparable to the final scene of Major League. But alas, this particular episode of Dora fails to deliver the goods again. Upon making her way to the field, more time is spent on her getting a jersey and getting the referee's attention, than on the actual playing of the game. So with all these preliminaries finally out of the way, the crowd miraculously still in their seats and not across the street at the bar and Dora's family still glued to the TV, the game is about to begin. There is one problem--now what could it be?? Well, we've been notified that Swiper the Fox has entered the stadium.

Note: For those not familiar with Swiper the Fox, he's kind of like the Darth Vader of the show, albeit with somewhat of a kind streak. His sole purpose is to steal (i.e. "swipe") something of value from Dora, Boots or one of their compatriots on the given episode. He's not swiping because he has a particular interest in the targeted item or for monetary gain. He simply wants to swipe the item and hide it for the sole purpose of being an annoyance. Fortunately for the viewers, Dora is typically able to reclaim the item within 30-60 seconds.

So anyway, Swiper is in the stadium and he's eyeing the soccer ball (as if they don't have extras?). 80,000 plus fans sit captivated while a television audience watches (Where is security during all of this? How did Swiper get into the stadium anyway? Did he have a ticket? I could go on and on....). I'm on the edge of my seat watching to see how this will unfold, when miraculously, Dora prompts the crowd to say the words, "Swiper No Swiping" (this is the antidote to Swiper the Fox's swiping, kind of like Kryptonite to Superman). Crisis averted.

Finally, the game is about to start and I'm going to get the sports scene that I've been longing for. The gun goes off, Daisy quickly passes to Dora, Dora jukes a couple of defenders and kicks the ball past a flailing and overmatched goalie (she's like the Freddy Adu of her hometown). That's it--12 seconds and apparently the game is called so Dora's team can carry her off the field and both teams, the spectators and television viewers alike can collectively do a knockout version of the "We Did It" dance. Game over. Show over.

I feel cheated by this program. Alexis, on the other hand, is gleefully watching on my lap and she couldn't have enjoyed this episode more. Fortunately for me, she'll be talking anytime now and I"ll begin molding her into the Cynical Bastard that I've become. Ahhhh, the circle of life!!!

The Idiot Father

POSTED BY BK

My wife, Kristyn, was sick on Tuesday morning, so in an attempt to be helpful I stayed home a little later to take care of our daughter, Alexis, and allow Kristyn to get some rest. Anyone that knows me recognizes that I'm a pretty attentive father and spend a tremendous amount of time doting on my daughter. That being said, I decided to give Alexis a bath to help my wife out. Despite spraying water directly in her eyes a handful of times and flooding our kitchen, this process went down without a hitch. I brought her into her room, got her dressed, etc--again, no problems. Where I ran into some difficulty was with the styling of her hair. This is a kid that I've spent over 12 hours per day for the last 7+ months staring at, yet I didn't have the slightest clue which side to part her hair to. My initial thought was to go ask Kristyn, but being the resourceful guy that I am, I turned on our digital camera and looked through some photos of Alexis until I recognized the pattern and styled her hair accordingly. Problem solved--What a Jonah!!!

FYI--Alexis' hair parts to the left, same as mine (poor kid).

Why I'm a Gruff Fan and not a Lions Fan

POSTED BY BK

Here's why--the NFL is crap. The official party line is that I was a Lions fan for 20 or so years(16 of which I remember), became disenchanted with the franchise's blundering ways capped off by the Wayne Fontes/Scott Mitchell/Barry Sanders (still the most overrated big game player in the history of football) era and decided to find a new team to support. I had a faux relationship with the Packers while in Madison, but that was purely superficial. It turns out my big problem wasn't with the Lions at all, it was with supporting a professional sports team in general. Even more so, it was with attending professional sporting events (no offense to my friends, Forman, Frishberg or Beags, all 3 of which revel in this activity). Maybe it's my inner Niles Crane, but it was being lumped into the element of the beer guzzling, sneaking a pint of tequila into the stadium in their boot, Starter jacket wearing, face painting, jersey donning, Evan Gallinson spirited, get to the parking lot at 9 AM for a 4 PM kickoff, taking off my shirt in -20 degree temperatures (bear in my mind I swim with my shirt on) Lunatic Fan of a National Football League Team. And mind you I have no disdain for the aforementioned described fan, afterall, I'm a Man of the People. I just lost sight of who these lunatics are supporting exactly. A city? A business? A roster of players that is completely different a year later? Before I let this deteriorate into a rant on the problems with professional sports, I'll just say that it was a healthy break and leave it at that.

The crazy thing was this whole epiphany about rooting (or really, not rooting) for a professional sports team took place at the Mecca of all Diehard Professional Football Fans. I am, of course, referring to traveling to a road playoff game to "support your team". My experience took place on Wildcard weekend in Tampa Bay (I'm too lazy to look up the year, let's just say it was the mid-to-late 90's), at the former stadium affectionately known as "The Big Sombrero". There I was,with my Dad and my Brother, surrounded by 80,000 rabid Tampa Bay fans.

SIDE NOTE: My Dad probably had this same revelation about professional sports 20 years prior to me. Yet being the devoted father he is, he kept these feelings to himself (only for me to figure it out on my own later) and still sacrificed to schlep my Brother and I to The Sombrero in the midst of an otherwise nice vacation. You gotta love him. And now back to my story....

You can poke fun at the quality of people you sit with at a home Lions game at the Silverdome (Ford Field came after my defection) and rightfully so, but compared to the crowd at the Sombrero, the Silverdome felt like being at a Country Club. Being the spineless woman that I am(or perhaps I'm just smart), I decided against being the Mishuganah that wears the Honolulu Blue Wig, The Silver Face Paint or The Alex Karras Retro Uni (apparently he was somewhat of a decent defensive player for the Lions in the 50's before going on to play the Dad on Webster to much critical acclaim). My attitude was to wear my standard street clothes (In those days, probably a pair of Polo Khaki Shorts, Solid Color Golf Shirt and Stan Smiths((good to see I've changed my look over the last 11 years--I'm going shopping for a hipper look this weekend--I swear))) and blend in with the crowd (I was lacking a Pirate Patch and a Bandana ((although even if I had a bandana I wouldn't have been able to tie it correctly)) and try not to have the opposing fans give me a beating comparable to the one the Lions were taking 30 rows down. My plan would have gone perfectly, if it weren't for my brother, Benji (always the R2D2 to my C3PO), razzing the textbook Lunatic Bucs Fans in our section. I still maintained hope that my Dad and I could escape unscathed, even if it meant losing Benji as a casualty in the process. As the locals were plotting to pass our bodies to the top of the Sombrero and dispose of us (I know--the Kaplans are heavy set men, but there were 80,000 Bucs Fans), the very team that I was turning on bailed us out. Not on the field--as always, the Lions sucked royally. However, had they not sucked and gotten completely demolished in that game, instead of just getting razzed for 3 and a half hours by said Lunatic NFL fans, my fate would have been similar to Vincent Ludwig (played by the always enjoyable Ricardo Montalban) at the end of the first Naked Gun.

So I'm not a Lions Fan anymore--where does one turn?? Afterall, I'm still a football fan. Sunday is still one of the 7 days of the week and I don't like crafts or antiquing. I know I started this post by saying the NFL is crap, but that was misguided. Being a fan is crap. Or--being a fan of one team is crap. However, as a gambler, you can be a fan of a new team every few hours. If a team is going good, you can be a fan of their work for several weeks running. If a team costs you money, you just change sides (ie--the revenge bet, which I'll discuss in greater detail in later posts). You can take this non-fandom even further by playing fantasy football (you can root for and against both teams simultaneously--a wonderful experience). Plus you get to create fun nicknames for the teams that you gamble on and against. Here are a few examples, that myself, my brother and some of our cohorts have come up with and/or have liked to use over the years:


Buffalo Bills--The Gruff (origin: Billy Goats Gruff)
Miami Dolphins--The Fish or Feesh
New England Patriots--The Engine
NY Jets--No Nickname
Jacksonville Jaguars--The Jigs
Indianapolis Colts--Indimas (Part of the Dimas Family) or the Clots (seldom used)
Tennessee Titans--The Tuxes or The Oilers
Houston Texans--The Tuxes or the Oilers
Pittsburgh Steelers--The Curtain
Cincinnati Bengals--The Gallies, The Gally, Gally Gallies or the Svengals
Cleveland Browns--No Nickname
Baltimore Ravens--Balt
San Diego Chargers--San Dimas (part of the Dimas family)
Denver Broncos--No Nickname
Oakland Raiders--No Nickname
Kansas City Chiefs--The Chefs
Detroit Lions--No Nickname (other than the Gross Lions)
Green Bay Packers--The Pack (not that original)
Minnesota Vikings--TONKA (a favorite)
Chicago Bears--The Bears still Suck
Dallas Cowboys--No Nickname
New York Giants--The Gints (not that original)
Philadelphia Eagles--No Nickname
Washington Redskins--The Hail to the Redskins
Seattle Seahawks--No Nickname
Arizona Cardinals--No Nickname
St. Louis Rams--Nope
San Francisco 49ers--Nada
Carolina Panthers--Car
Tampa Bay Buccaneers--Tonka Bay (part of the Tonka family--a classic)
Atlanta Falcons--The Conies or Hotlanta (which is poor and overused)
New Orleans Saints--The Santos or The Flying Santos (to be used on special occassions)

If you haven't had the pleasure of telling your bookie that you want a 20 time Gruff/Curtain reverse, well, you just haven't lived.

These names work in college also--in fact they are even more fun. And I know, I do have loyalties to my alma mater, Wisconsin (U Rah Rah), which basically makes me a hypocrite and devalues my whole theory. I say to that, having a vested interest in the University you attended is a completely different phenomenon than supporting a pro team and it should be commended.

Anyways, my short list of college nicknames:

Clemson--Cremson
Virginia Tech--The Hokie Dokies
Colorado--Cauliflower or Flower or Colo
Oklahoma-Krahoma
Oklahoma State--Krahoma State
Louisville--Louis or My Enormous Friend (Louis)
Indiana--Indimas
Michigan--Gross Mich
Michigan State--The Spartys or Mush State
Purdue--The Due or the Do Do Do (if they're playing particularly well)
Southern Mississippi--The Southern Man (Part of the Man Family)
Army--Army, Army, Army, Army (picture me singing/chanting this)
Navy--In The Navy (also to song)
Notre Dame--Notre Dimas (part of the Dimas Family) or The Gross Irish (during those times)
Toledo--Tooooooooledo
Colorado State--Flower State or Cauliflower State
San Diego State--Dimas State (part of the Dimas Family
Utah--You go to Utah, You stay in Utah
Mississippi--The Old Man (part of the man family)
Mississippi State--Man State (part of the man family)

There is also the Car Family (South Car, North Car, North Car State, etc)
Also, the Jew Family (BYJew, TCJew, LSJew, JewNLV--these work better with Christian Schools)

With all this fun at your fingertips, you're telling me that I should be sweating Matt Millen, the Mooch firing, the hiring of some bozo that used to coach at the Sombrero, or the team drafting a receiver in the first round every year since my wedding. I say to you, "Not Bloody Likely".

Allof this ties into an ongoing topic to be incorporated into this blog. That of the gambler. I will be posting picks on a regular basis (and the best advice I'll ever give is to take those picks, fly to Vegas and bet everything you have on the opposite of said picks). I will encourage regular contributions from friends and foes alike, as this blog is intended to be a forum for utter nonsense.

And on that note, I leave you with the words to Gridiron Heroes (a song that used to have more meaning to me than the National Anthem, but now, sadly, means nothing):

Forward down the field,
A charging team that will not yield.
And when the Blue and Silver wave,
Stand and cheer the brave.
Rah, Rah, Rah.
Go hard, win the game.
With honor you will keep your fame.
Down the field and gain,
A Lion victory!

Inaugural Address

POSTED BY BK

Thank you for reading my first ever post! Knowing my personality, more than likely this will concurrently be my last ever post! That being said, I better make this good....

I have titled this blog, "Gaining Weight without Exercise". The full title was actually going to be, "Gaining Weight without Exercise and Other Useless Nuggets (Chicken, not Benny) of Information that will serve No Purpose to Anyone." This website would only allow a limited number of characters for my title, so I had to go with the abridged version. Regardless, both the short title and the long title were not well thought out and I'm sure after stewing at it for awhile, I'll come up with a much wittier title, which I'll then change it to. God I loathe myself....

My mission statement for this blog:

Who am I kidding, I'm way too lazy to write an actual mission statement. Some bullet points (a technique I'm sure I'll keep coming back to on the off chance I stay committed to writing this blog ((I've never really used the word blog before--its pretty enjoyable))) that help breakdown my overview of what to expect from this BLOGGGGGGGG.

-I will probably use parentheses a great deal (see above paragraph). I will use these parentheses as a subtle attempt at humor (most probably will not find this funny). I will also at times use the double parentheses (as seen above). I've never used this before and am unsure whether it is a correct use of grammar. Regardless, it's enjoyable and I'm going with it. That gives me another bullet point as part of my quasi-mission statement...

-I intend to make the double parentheses a part of mainstream writing (this may be slightly ambitious, but no one is reading this anyway).

-I don't know how to actually display a "bullet point", so expect to see a lot of hyphens, which I will still refer to as "bullet points"

-Expect a lot of random sports references, particularly Wisconsin sports references. Case in point, I believe I titled the web address "Not In Booker's House" or something to that effect. Booker Coleman was a seldom used Center on the 1996-7 Wisconsin Basketball team. This is a team that I'm sure you don't recall unless you happen to be Jared Shapiro, Greg Sandler, Scott Miller (that guy just knows stuff) or possibly Pat Richter. To give you a quick synopsis, this was a team that was more interested in the nightly drink specials at BullFeathers than in converting a high percentage of free throws or understanding the nuances of the pick and roll. Nevertheless, they somehow had a great run at home that year culminated by beating Number 2 Minnesota, led by Bobby Jackson, to punch their ticket to the Big Dance (where they immediately bowed out to Tom Penders Texas' Club, although thats not really the point of the story ((come to think of it, there is no point to the story, but I digress))). It was this laissez faire attitude while still achieving success that made this club endearing. You certainly don't remember the players (I really don't either), but I know they were led by Sam Okey, Paul Grant, Ty Calderwood and of course, Booker. So back to Booker--Like most Wisconsin basketball players prior to the Bo Ryan era, he couldn't run, certainly couldn't shoot, couldn't dribble, couldn't really rebound. His one redeeming quality was that he was tall (as they say, you can't teach height). Still on the infrequent occassion that he got in the game, Book played with a swagger reserved for a man like Derrick Coleman, his long forgotten fake half brother. Now I'm not sure if this really happened, or if it is a fabrication of my collective group of college friends' imagination(s), but I'm pretty sure that Booker would wave his finger while on the court (in the same fashion of Dikembe Mutombo) as if to say "not in Booker's House". (Again, I said this blog would serve no purpose, and man, I'm delivering like hell so far....)

-There will be a lot of references to people that you do not know. In most cases, no explanation or background will be given. There will be inside jokes. You will be outside.

-I will talk about food. I will talk about food. I will talk about food. I may talk about wine and beer. I will talk about food some more. I will post grocery lists. I will discuss topics such as where to buy the best veggie cream cheese in a red state. I will give lists on topics such as ten restaurants you need to eat at before you die. I will tell you what to order off of certain menus. These should not be construed as opinion in any way, shape or form. My word on food is the final word. If you disagree, you're an idiot and you are wrong. I will talk about food.

-Sometimes I will treat readers in an adversarial manner. It will be funny.

-I will diet from time to time and chronicle these events. Make no mistake, I will not succeed at it. I may compete with some of my other out of shape friends in battles to lose weight. They will not succeed either.

-Also, I think a young Duany Duany was on that 1996-7 team. Maybe the worst shooter of all time, particularly as an underclassmen. On top of it, he was also a chucker that made George Costanza look like Mike Kelley by comparison.

-I will talk about creamy spinach, pastrami and aged cheeses. You should also.