Grand Theft Auto

'A little voice inside my head said don't look back, you can never look back' but that's exactly what I did. And there I found, in the backseat of my lushly upholstered pink Cadillac, next to the fuzzy dice that used to adorn the rear-view mirror, a pair of woman's spectacles. Just in time to avoid my gal-pal sitting on them and finding out if hindsight is truly 20/20. No other garments found and unfortunately no racy story to tell.

HEY, where are y'all going...? Ah, crap, my interest dwindling too....

Apparently, my car has a spectacle fetish. And Lord pity the unsuspecting passenger (or shall I say with Mr. T's intonation, 'pity da fool') that becomes his target. This wasn't the first pair of glasses swiped nor will it be the last. I can't even begin to tell you about the collection of glasses that I have confiscated from this thief in the night, this vagabond on wheels, this rolling perverted Peepers-Tom. Alert local law enforcement, DMV, and the Hellen Keller Society. And for God's sake, invest in contacts or superglue.

I have attempted to return these aids to the visually-, and quite possibly, memory-impaired, to no avail. It occurred to me that this phenomenon may in fact, be part of the age-old ruse where someone would leave a personal item behind in the hopes that the other person would have a pretext to call. Of course, that is a bit of ego talking and a smidge of self-flattery. And IF it is true, why hasn't anyone EVER responded to my inquiries? What really worries me is why, included in my collection, were there unfamiliar MEN's frames? HEY,... don't even go there!

So if I offer you a ride in the backseat of my car, be sure to keep your hands in the window, legs in the air, and specs properly secured...

CASE CLOSED
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Filthy-Rich

{Southern drawl} My momma told me that her own momma used to say that you can find a good man who is rich just as well as one who is poor. {Resume normal vocalizations}To be clear, this was not meant to be passed on to me as such nor was I taking her words literally for me. I wasn't even interpreting it to mean that I can just as easily find a sweet, pretty woman who is also financially stable. Money and I don't seem to get along very well. Like any good mathematician or scientist with conflicting data, I factored it out of my life.

I have had occasion to impart momma's wisdom upon many an unsuspecting female, though. One woman's story, in particular, begins in a quandary. In the midst of turmoil as to whether to walk away from a rich but unattractive man, she was told by her friends that she "would be crazy to do so, she could learn to find him attractive, he is high society, after all." Now all those friends of hers that were looking out for her financial well-being have no concern at all for her emotional well being nor do they have a clue as to what it takes to have a successful relationship. The worst thing of all is that these friends are ruining it for all of us laymen, blue-collar, average Joe's, who are, by our own accounts, nice and good hearted but lacking in that one particular area (no, not that! Unfortunately, no testimonies available upon request).

I felt it was my duty to take the ancient wisdom that I had imprinted upon my brain and reinterpret it in light of more enlightened cultural progress and in the spirit of equality and progressive psychologically sound thinking (stop laughing please). "Friends and family may have aspirations for your acquiring a filthy-rich man," said I, "but sometimes for the sake of sanity and happiness you just have to settle for filthy."

Alignment

Who says that life here on earth is not ordained in the heavens? With the cosmic alignment of Mars and Venus, came profound earthly delights. Perhaps the most telling example was finding my one true.... parking spot....adjacent to the restaurant in NYC. This was no ordinary spot. It had the dimensions of a machmir's shiur for maror on pesach or better yet it was the size of the biblical Kibeitzah which everyone knows has roughly dinosaur proportions. In my giddiness and excitement of the find, I pulled the car forward and back, to and fro multiple times, until perfect alignment with the curb was achieved. Passerbys stared but I know not why.

Let us not forget, o polytheistic friends of mine, that there are many supernatural forces that demand their due. Like no-child-left-behind, there is no street corner without the avodah zarah totem pole known as the Muni-Meter. With respect, I prostrated myself before it to no avail. As G-d turned away from Cain's offering, so did this enigmatic entity deny me. It asserted its divinity by not printing me a receipt, then once again denying my credit card. Only after the third offering of my plastic sacrifice, did it take its fill and allow the preordained events of the evening to unfold.

Representing the seven sefirot of heaven, seven woman in pagan garb served us a special treat in honor of the impending holiday. As you, of the Jewdoo cult, know, some people bake a key into challah as a segulah for whatever . I was surprised to see a key protruding through the falafel ball (yeah, I'm a big spender). What that key will unlock is yet to be seen. I was told it was the master key to the elevator; which buttons you press will determine which direction life will take you.

While smiling and making eye contact, all the time attempting to do what no man has done before, I listened to her. But as fate would have it, there was another voice that needed my attention. A voice from below made its instructions known to me on a visceral level. It deprived me of any desire for alcohol. It is my custom to drink at least the minimum requisite drink as a patron enjoying funky music. I learned this from the patriarch Abraham who, out of respect for the host, was sure to use the innkeepers services rather than provide for himself. But last night, I broke tradition and heeded that haunting voice. My gut told me it was the proper course of action. And as every guy knows, the gut is the supreme deity of man. Alimentary, my dear Watson. And again as fate would have it, the sobriety checkpoint was a (sea)breeze. Alignment again. Get out of jail free.

All I can say is that this was no AVERAGE/MEDIUM evening!
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Spitin' Image

The advertising department at Tide have nothing on David's Nuts.

The hyperlink connects to a previous post.

Don't Just Be Bad, Be...

Superbad! I was at a Chanukah gathering of a good friend. He pointed out his nephew, around 16 yrs old, curly black hair, a bit on the chunky side. I said, "Hi, Seth." He said, "Hi, Sam" even though neither of us were introduced by name. I don't know how he knew my name but his likeness struck me as being a clone of Seth from the movie Superbad. So much so that I just had to blurt out, Seth! Ironically, that was the kid's real name. They say art imitates life.

Antigonus and Tradition

Before I get to Antigonus, I need to do a bit on Chanukah.

My daughter came over to me last night and asked me a question. She asked if we know Antiochus, who is uncle-ochus? The apple doesn't fall far!

(Onward Christmas soldiers...)
I was discussing with my dad the third Mishnah in Aboth which continues the list of through whom the oral tradition was transmitted. It says, "Antigonus of Sokho received from Simeon the Righteous." Although there were others in the third and fourth century BCE that had the same name, this Antigonus was the first Pharisee (Rabbinic Judaism) on record to have a Greek name. My father considered the importance of names in Judaism, an example, Yaakov was so named because he held onto Akev (heel) of Esau. Other Biblical names have meaning as well. Perhaps Antigonus is Anti-gnos. Maybe he represents an anti gnosis. Gnosis being the philosophy that one can have direct knowledge of God if he has the proper tools or knowledge. Antigonus represents the politically correct approach to religion (as the mishnah sees it), that knowledge of God can be achieved through the proper vehicles; ie. those who received the tradition and passed it on. Follow the Torah, its rules, its priests and prophets not the gnosis approach. At the time of Antigonus there was a major debate among philosophers as to the proper means to have knowledge of God.

It is peripherally interesting that Simeon the Righteous is a cohen gadol of the Zadokite line. There was also a major conflict during the emergence of Rabbinic religion as to who has the authority to determine the course of Jewish teaching and law. The Zadokite line of priests who had ruled the temple for hundreds of years claimed that Sinaitic tradition is meant to be passed through the priestly line. The rabbis contested this and developed the mishnah in Aboth specifically to legitimize their rule. They also needed validity from a recognized power in a similar manner that a famous actor would be used for an infomercial. They used a Zadokite priest who adheres to the Rabbinic modality.

Gabrielle Boccaccini's, The Roots of Rabbinic Judaism, describes this as follows. By focusing on Moses and Joshua the rabbis bypass the hereditary line of priesthood (cutting off Aaron and descendants). Interestingly, The sages included Zadokite high priest Simon the Righteous (described as receiving his Torah based on being a survivor of the men of the great synagogue NOT because he was a priest). He then passed Torah on to disciple Antigonus rather than his sons as would be expected of a priest.
For more on Antigonus because you just can't sleep without it see:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antigonus_of_Sokho

I Saw The Sign

I was driving upstate to pay a shiva call to relatives and I noticed this sign. I didn't have much time to get a clear shot with my camera phone but it says, "Life is worth living...24HR hotline phone ahead." Now, mind you that this is the approach to the Tappan Zee Bridge. Basically we are telling this obviously distraught individual, "Yeah, keep going there is phone somewhere ahead but just ignore that high, tempting, oh so tempting bridge, over the waters that will free you from all your pain. Nah, just keep going."

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Update: As I was rereading my post, it occured to me that the sign could be read with a different emphasis. Perhaps it could be understood as there is a 24hr hotline but you need to phone ahead of time. If you can't get your act together in advance, you might as well jump.

When The Moon Is Full...

Another great marketing genius shows his creative mind and sales acumen. When perusing the detergent aisle, trolling for belly lint and extra strength deodorizers, I noticed this wonder. Look closely at the picture. "2x Ultra Tide..more effective...[and clearly] useless." Now why would I want to buy a very effective container of useless material. How would that help? Do you think they are so aware of my children's ability to render their clothes impermeable to the cleansing effects of detergent?

I decided to contact Tide and I'm awaiting their response. It would have been more fun to get a live operator rather than just email but I couldn't find a phone number. Out, Out, Damn Spot!

Little Snippet

My son recently walked in on me as I was getting out of the shower. I don't really like hot showers, more on the luke-warm to bone-chilling side. Things get kinda tight and drawn close. He asked me why I have brains in my penis! I burst out laughing. I told him that is where men access them!

When I told Tali, she told me that the scrotum has Rugae which would look like the folds of a brain to a discerning child. Wikipedia describes rugae as not a form of music or shabbat treat but as "a term used in anatomy that refers to a series of ridges produced by folding of the wall of an organ...[like the] wrinkles of the scrotum."

Yeah, I know, should have just stopped telling this at the end of the first paragraph.

True Story:

In health class in high school, the teacher asked the class if it was possible for a male to ejaculate while urinating. A classmate yelled out, "You can't both come and go!"

This was, of course, correct. Anybody have a clue if that is true for women?

Careful How You Tread

I was sitting at a Chinese restaurant with Tali last night when she allowed me to glimpse the inner workings of a divorced females mind possibly blinding me forever. It may well be the mind of females in general but that information is privileged. She said that she keeps waiting for me to do something wrong (or possibly she said Bad or Crazy but being a guy with a smaller...hippocampus than gals, somethings just won't ever stick in my mind). BTW, the hippocampus is where memories are formed. I'm still scratching my head (hush, now) trying to figure out her birthday. Just kidding but I sure as heck hope she doesn't randomly ask.

So let's assume she's looking for me to take a misstep. Does she anticipate that because I am from the opposite team that I will certainly do something to upset her? Well DARN TOOTIN she does and you better believe I will. Who am I to disappoint? Any two people in close proximity and especially in a close relationship will invariably do something to aggravate, irritate, or just piss the other off. Apparently, I have successfully avoided that already although I was certain I hadn't.

No one could be totally in tune and in the proper frame of mind, always. Even expecting a mild spate of sanity is unusual for most relationships.
I won't even go into the obvious things like trying to be sensitive and anticipate each others feelings and needs. Finger down throat. Hmm...finger...guy brain activated. Thoughts of sex become a clear segue to shark sex. Apparently, the shark if the first creature to invent/discover sexual reproduction around 400 million years ago (at least that's what Evolve on the History Channel claims). The male bites on the extra-padded dorsal fin to turn the female over and maintain position. He even has an extra protrusion by his penis that clasps himself in her while mating. Who's the hooker now? I told this story to a female coworker and like the typical female she says, "He raped her." I tried to animate the scene by playing the role of the female shark talking to her dolphin female friends who tell her she should wake up and smell the krill, she was raped. I'm only a little embarrassed to say I used my best gay voice to simulate a female chain-smoking shark, to say, "But, I really like it rough."

I began to recall my own 'experiences' (haven't tried shark yet, their not kosher). I find that I grab hold to my partner tightly during those climactic moments when all oxygen leaves my brain and my basal ganglia and rudimentary earlier systems go into overdrive. Is this a similar by-product of evolution? Just as the shark bites the dorsal fin to hold position whereby the female can't escape, to ensure a completed act, so too I increase my grasp or do I just have an odd technique unworthy of Cosmo or Vanity Fair.

Where was I? Oh, what I need from all of you is suggestions on how to take my first misstep. I want to make mine memorable because you always remember your first. I'm usually of the mindset that I should just be myself and ouila, poo on the shoe. Any thoughts?

On a warped side note and mixing metaphors, make up sex after overstepping the bounds of normal behavior lead to a ...
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What Do You Want...

All morning, the song Rock The Night by Europe, has been spinning in my head. It was a song I originally heard in Israel as I made my way to the youth hostel close to my Yeshiva. That was after shiur had ended, of course. I had my boom-box on my shoulder, Europe blasting, and I was cruising for Shairut Leumi girls. Let's just say that The opportunity for cultural exchange presented itself often. But more on that another time.

Tali surprised me at work today. On a whim, she decided to show up with Morningstar buffalo wings with pizza sauce and melted muenster cheese. I probably would have left that fact out if I wasn't consuming it as I type. I was humming the lyrics, "What do you want..." from the aforementioned song when I noticed that she was wearing a tee shirt that shouted "All I want is happiness." Mentally, I was prepared to offer her that but out of my mouth came, well, not what I expected.

I was never great in grammar so you will forgive me if I get the exact term incorrect. In Hebrew, the letter hay at the beginning of a word, when pronounced as 'Ha,' acts as the definite article. It means 'THE...' followed by whatever the rest of the word is. Now if you recall, I was thinking back to Israel earlier as I hummed the song so I unassumingly read her shirt out loud but in an Israeli accent. Try it with me but don't forget to accent the definite article, Ha. Here we go. All I want is Ha-Pee-ness. We burst out laughing so loudly. The opportunity thus arose to physically augment my intended offer for mental fulfillment.
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Exile

It has been said that exile is a form of death. You are uprooted from your family, friends, from familiar surroundings and a predictable environment. Things and people that brought you comfort and support, disappear in a flash. Image being kidnapped, blindfolded, and transported for what feels like an eternity and dropped off in the middle of some unknown city with just a candy bar to get you through the dark, rainy night. You have no shelter and no hope. Perhaps you speak the local dialect, perhaps not. How will the locals treat you? With suspicion, perhaps as a competitor for resources. Will you survive the tougher elements of the street? What's worse is you suddenly realize that it was someone close to you, someone you have always counted on, that did this to you. But you can't fathom why and you just want to get home but which way and how long and how many untold obstacles stand in your way? What if you never get home and if you do, how will you be welcomed? Hope fades fast as all these thoughts cross you mind in an instant.

I had a choice. I could take the cat to a shelter where they said he would be destroyed because he was sick with worms or I could send him into exile and give him a fighting chance. He is a tough outdoor cat and I want to believe he will find another family to help him or at least survive. But what kind of life will that be, going from all food cares handled to utterly on his own? He has brought me presents of mice and birds in show of appreciation for the food and affection the kids and I have shown him and this is how I repay him??? It tears my heart out that I had to make a living being especially one close to me suffer but he has brought a plague upon me and (some of) my children. I gave him worm medication but he will keep getting reinfected by his contaminated feces and other critters will be our next woe. So if I had to choose between my children's health and the cat. As much as I love my cat, I chose my children. (See if I say this when I tear the last hair out of my head when they go bonkers).

Last week, I tried to put him in a box but that effort failed so today I purchased a pet carrier and off we drove in the pouring rain. Cats hate car rides, in case you don't know. He was moaning and crying for the half-hour ride. I cried with him albeit not as loud. I just drove. I had tried to make a plan earlier in the day as to the best drop site but nothing materialized so I just let the car take us. Tali lent me moral support for the journey if I may name-drop. I let him off in a residential area and poured some cat food by the curb. He was happy to be out of the car and cage. Before I turned around he was gone.

It struck me on the way home that I had let him off in Babylon, of all places. The namesake of our first exile. And so it was, I displaced my beloved cat as the Babylonians had displaced our forefathers oh so long ago. How they must have felt, how my sweet cat must be feeling now. I cried the whole way home and my computer screen is a shimmering fog right now. Do you know, that now that I come to think of it, I might not even have a picture of him? I was going to put him here on the blog as a lasting memory but I can't. I'll be able to conjure his image but will the kids forget him? No, not him but at least how he looked. Will they ever forgive me if they find out? I'll have to make my own peace with this but I tell you it really hurts.

What went through his mind when he watched me drive off into the night leaving him stranded and all alone? He was alone and scared. His hopes faded, replaced by dispair. As I pictured him looking at my car driving off into the distance, rivulets of water streaming down by the curb, I could not help hearing the words (In Hebrew) "By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and wept as we remembered Zion..."
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Dream Believer

"I had a dream," my pappy told me. That, of course, was long after MLK Jr. had his unrelated vision. It was a relatively mild summer the year my brother was to be married. I was just a kid then, but I felt the need to instruct him in all things sexual that I had only recently learned. He smiled and messed my hair a bit and said thanks. He gave me a coke and I smiled.

Just after his engagement, he came down with hepatitis so graciously shared from cup to cup at a rebbe's tish. Even though he was feverish and weak, thankfully he was able to drag himself to the Brooklyn HIP center. There the top notch physician wrote him a script, which he diligently went to the pharmacy to fill. The pharmacist told him this was an Rx for a placebo because the doctor thought he was a drunk. Instead of accepting this miracle cure, he chose to check into a local hospital where his condition deteriorated. That's when pappy had his dream.

As I recall it being told to me directly, pappy had seen his friend, Joe, appear to him at night in a dream. Joe was the first of his childhood friends to pass to the other side. Joe solemnly informed my dad that tonight Joe was to take his son (my bro). I don't know how my dad comes up with this stuff so fast, I guess he was FAST asleep but his response without hesitation was, "Take the cat as a Kaparah (atonement)." With that the dream ends and the laws of the universe are forever altered.

Come morning, the cat was found dead. Zoinks! I have a sneaking suspicion my dad sleepwalks but I have not seem this myself. When talking with my brother, he claims that, that night he gave up and prayed to be taken away but somehow things took a turn for the better the next day. For him, that is. I'm sure the cat would have an entirely different perspective and now after umpteen years of marriage I don't know if my brother would have taken that deal.

Many years passed. I was dorming at YU when I noticed my next cat crying outside by my seventh floor window. I was dreaming of course. I let her in and she seemed relieved to see me and climbed on my bed and went to sleep with an apparent grim as if she was comforted being my presence. There was a knock, so I opened the door only to find two cats, looking just like her, beckoning her to come with them. She did. They walked down Rubin hall together and just faded away.

A few days later, I got a call that my kitty had disappeared (coincidentally) the night I had the dream. Can you figure it out yet? Not only had the cat died but my uncle was mysteriously cured from an ailment that no doctor could successfully identify or cure! He had suddenly developed an uncontrollable diaphram spasm causing him to hiccup incessantly. They actually had to start his heart a few times as a result. Apparently my dad had a dream that night as well. In his dream, he was saying to himself, "As much as I love the cat, I choose my brother."

The only thing my family could figure was that my grandfather, the butcher, used to feed all the neighborhood cats to rid the area of mice. As a zechus (merit),these cats have come back to sacrifice their lives for our holy lineage.

I'm not a big believer in stuff like this when people tell me but there truly is something about cats and my family. The main thing really is that if you're a cat, stray far far away. I do have sleepless nights wondering if someday, if we are not careful, they may issue a cat-wah against us.

We are finally coming to the real point of all this. I told my son that I was feeling very ill because of the cat-asstrophy. I apparently made a bit of the show of it to discourage him from playing with the cat. He took it to mean that I was seriously hurting. And out of the mouth of babes..."Dad, if you want to feel better, someone should dream about the cat and you'll be OK!"

That'sa my boy (Italian inflection)
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A Quick Passover Rant

Passover soap. As far as I know, soap is basically a Base. Bread is not one of its active ingredients or even a trace component. Although I'm sure some mad fundy chemists attempted to incorporated bread derivatives into soap and scores of other products just so Jews would be forced to buy the new safe-for-Passover product. Both bread and base begin with 'B' but that as far as it goes. Do people actually worry that they got crumbs in their liquid soap bottle?

My mind then wandered to the need for Kosher salt. Salt is a sodium and chloride combined, Na+Cl-. Perhaps there is a salt that has a Br+EaD- ion in one of its isotopic forms. Visions of my organic chemistry teacher shaking his head in profound disappointment set me straight.

Of course, there are many other absurdities but who has time to continue with all this cleaning and preparing to do?

Quick story:

My paternal grandmother used to move the whole family to a new apartment every year just before Passover because a new apartment had to be broom swept and painted. So instead of cleaning the house herself, she packed and unpacked an entire household and uprooted the kids. One day my dad came home after yeshiva and found the apartment empty. It seems no one told him about the move or where they were going to live next (purposely?)! He wandered around the street for a hour or so past dark until he ran into a friend of the family who was privy to his parents whereabouts. Isn't Passover supposed to be an all inclusive family holiday?

Triple X

How much thought do people actually put into the complimentary close when corresponding? Some people write, "Sincerely", others, "TTYL" but when it comes to a budding relationship a veritable minefield opens up. Rarely should you say "Love," early on. Perhaps, "Yours Truly" would be ok. Somehow "xox" seems safe but affectionate while one is getting closer but not ready to commit.

If you have been following the blog, you would know but not necessarily care that I have been seeing a lovely lady I met on Frumster and things are progressing. There is a lot of emotional language being exchanged in our eye contact and subtle body language.

Then it happened. She sent me a general e-mail but concluded with "xxxo, Tali." Now, what do I do with that? It's not the simple xox I have always imagined. This is far more serious. For crying out loud, it's a TRIPLE X O! My response:

"This was the first time I ever got a triple-x-o from anyone. A part of me felt really moved to think about it. I always wondered exactly the proper balance of x's and o's when signing off. How much of it is mood oriented, message based, relationship defined, or 'say it or you'll pay the price'? And what if you o before you x? Should both parties strive to achieve an o together and for God's sake, should the x really be involved? That's just too much! Is there a personal rhythm that needs to develop like a staccato of x's progressing to a crescendo of o's? Or perhaps the strokes of your fingers should decide the outCome? However this obsessive rant ends, it most certainly will be Xcellent!
xox,
Smoo"

Meeting The Parents

It came upon me too soon, which oddly enough is something I hear all too often. I have been dating Tali now for just over a month, which is usually way too early to have an official night out on her parents dime. What was interesting was that her parents mentioned the idea to her but she rejected them, in hopes, she claimed, they would forget about the whole thing. But cease and desist they did not and so dinner was on the menu for the evening. Curiously, I didn't mind, which probably had something to do with there being steak involved. But a confession is in order, I like Tali, a lot. 'Like' is the only 'L'-word I'm ready to use now. That is unless Oreo cheese cake made just right could possibly push me over the edge. In fact there are many women looking to push me over the edge but not in the way I always imagined.

Returning to the dinner at the steak house, I sat down next to Tali and directly opposite her mother. I'm sure they picked up on the fact that my right hand was not visible on the table. It, like other body parts, has a mind of its own. And it was seeking other like-minded individuals. Truth be told, I limited its adventure because her parents are very religious and I didn't want to send them into shock. The fact that her dad had a steak knife that made Mr. Dundee envious also played a role there.

Then came the interrogation. Her dad served in the military so he was no stranger to dealing with hostile forces. I know the rules of engagement so I hunkered down and prepared for a war of attrition. But it never came. They were polite and made pleasant conversation. I was almost disappointed. It was too easy...hmmm...is this part of some elaborate scheme to lure me in a sense of false security? What really happened to their last son-in-law? How come I have never actually physically seen or heard him? What was the purpose of the duffle bag with duct tape and a chain saw? What is wrong with this image?

Because every man reading this is curious, I'll let you know. The steak was just right. Tender, juicy and mucho grande. Ladies, take the imagery wherever you so choose.

I think the greatest potential for conflict will arise from dessert. Tali and her mom both love dessert. In fact, dessert should be the main course in their opinion. I am from a very different school where the main dish should be double-sized leaving no room for even considering dessert. The only glimmer of hope for reconciliation here is that I can partake of her entree and she can have my dessert. More of what we each like, for each of us.

Tali related the story of my outing. I'm embarrassed to say, I did go shopping for clothes with Tali. For me. She told her parents that she liked my biceps when she saw me in a t-shirt we were looking to buy. Without missing a beat I said to Tali that I have to come out and confess, I'm bi-ceptual. She laughed but her mom didn't. You see, I like to make puns, some great, some horrible, most fall somewhere between the extremes. But no matter what, and to the chagrin of those I'm with, I never hold it back. My Achilles heel if you will. I do like heels, while we are on the subject but they do look better on Tali. I made some other less memorable puns that night. Her mom just gave me a look like you gotta be kidding, right? My response was that those looks just encourage me more, so she had better get used to it (said in a polite and light manner). Tali thinks me incorrigible.

Overall it went well, I wasn't mortally wounded, nothing spilled, the only stains were from an unrelated incident. So far no feedback but the sheriff ain't on my tail so I just keep on chasing tail.

Oh, by the way, did I mention that I like Tali?

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Night Scare

I had a dream...Actually I had a nightmare last night. It shocked me out of my sleep at 4:30AM and I was unable to fall back asleep until of course the alarm rang. Web Girl and others have recommended Stephen King's novels, and Come Running gave me a Dean Koontz book. Needless to say that fact had nothing to do with my night-scare.


I dreamed I was on a first date at a burger joint (yes, I know, I really know how to impress) and the date was going fine until I got handed the check of $120.00 for two burgers. I couldn't breathe, they were just burgers for God's sake. I was jolted awake with such ferocity that I scarcely recall more than a few dreams over my entire life having that effect. I can't believe it either. I chalk it up to a combo of an evening coffee (which I never do) and one teensy episode I experienced at Burger Pal in Cedarhurst.

But first, I would like to take you to the special place in my heart (and stomach) for fast food burgers. As a child I often went to the Rockaways to the beach during the summer. Afterward, I would go to Kosher Chef, which has long since gone, and enjoyed burgers and the best eggroll this side of China. It had a Hungarian goulash filling that was to die for (probably literally). Fond memories indeed. I was shocked when Burger Nosh in Cedarhurst closed while everywhere around it all types of restaurants opened. Was I the only one who plumbed the depths of the fast food burger experience? And until Jan 08 my last bastion of hope remained with the Burger Nosh in Queens. But alas, they too have closed shop. What is a LI kid supposed to do? I can't get to burger delight in Manhattan as, let's face it, it ain't the most convenient commute when alls I'ma lookin' for is some burger and fast ones at that. If I was going to travel, I would just skip over to Chicago to Ken's Diner for Burger Buddies, the Avi and other palate stimulating offerings.

I'm taken back to my younger years when Ken's Diner was the beginnings of a wonderful relationship. Primarily with the Burger Buddies but also with a lovely young waitress. What a great vacation. In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have blown off my buddies as much as I did...ahhh...ok where was I?

Time to bring up the burger...incident. Last week I was with the kids and they told me about 'express burgers'. I called information thinking that was the name of the place and the operator connected me. I placed the order for seven burgers and some fries. I then realized that I really wanted to go to Yossi's Grill but instead had ordered from a place hitherto unknown to me, Burger Pal. I had tried to cancel the order along the way but they already made the order. I don't like to screw people based on my misjudgments so I proceeded to Burger Pal after loading the kids up after mistakingly de-vanning at Yossi's Grill. The man thanked me for not being a no-show as apparently some people are. I looked at the bill and it was over $80.00 Yep, I had to consciously think about breathing for quite some time while I quickly ushered the kids out lest they order drinks too. McDonald's seemed like a very appealing option for the future. I kept my cool but my stomach turned and my wallet felt light. Now, to be fair these were not fast food burgers but even so, I can't afford to have night out with the kids cost that much. And so, properly traumatized by this, the foundation was laid for its nocturnal expression. I'm still trying to digest this one.

The Code

Apparently there exists a CODE, immutable and inviolable. The penalty for its transgression is ostracism, scorn, and perhaps a black eye. The code to which I refer is, 'Thou shall not covet thy best friends EX-girlfriend'. It is of this I write today and let the pieces fall where they may.

What an awkward situation. Over the past few weeks my Bud had detailed to me the troubles in his relationship and how his woman, Cassi, has been at odds with him, pushing for a different level of interaction than he believed he was already providing. She finally ended their few-month relationship.

A VERY short time later I asked her to join me at a club just to get out and have some fun. I had no intentions for anything more, nor did she. We talked extensively about many areas of common interests. As the night progressed and the music held sway, our eyes locked. Unexpected and unintentional though it was, it was, nonetheless, captivating.

Now what? How do I break it to Bud? Obviously he would have liked to continue with Cassi but she didn't feel they were meant for each other (and he didn't seem too upset about it). And what of the Code??? I thought for about a week and could not think of any gentle way to tell him without hurting his feelings but, of course, within a week he found out anyway. He was PISSED to say the least and told me we couldn't be friends if I act this way.

What could I do? Give up a decade of friendship? Risk losing a life partner or was she just another passing fancy? Not an easy call.

So I went to Cassi's house that evening and told her the timing was wrong and a long-term relationship with the intent on merging our families impossible. I couldn't believe that she started to cry, which was odd because we went out twice over the span of only one week. I felt horrible that she became so attached and I know if I had gone out with her a while longer I would have as well. Then I patched things up with Bud but in the end there were no winners here. Cassi won't speak to me or Bud, Bud's feelings trampled, I lost a girlfriend, friends of friends somehow got dragged into things and others don't speak with each other anymore. YIKES, with great power comes great responsibility!

Some unresolved thoughts on the matter revolve around considering a buddy's feeling but at the same time recognizing that he is no longer a contender for a relationship with this woman. Why is it OK for another man to ask her out and have a chance at love but by virtue of my friendship, I am penalized? Does any person have the right to dictate to another who they can or can not date? Obviously, if he was still courting her, pining away for her, or their situation not clearly delineated to the point where it was clear that at least one party was not interested, then of course, no one would sanction a cock-block. But once it is clear that the relationship is over, anyone should be free to date her.

If the situation was reversed and I was put out to pasture, I would obviously mourn my lost opportunity but I would not begrudge him the right to find happiness. Yes, it would hurt but better a good friend of mine than some dumb loser. I would have put aside my petty jealousy or insecurity for his happiness.

Post divorce, with children, increasing in years, limits the pool of datable women. Invariably, we are going to overlap in this area. Further limiting that pool based on some code is ridiculous. Does dating someone somehow confer the right to have ANY say in her future relations or mine, for that matter? To some it does. I don't necessarily agree and every situation must be evaluated on its own merit. What if that fateful evening occurred 2 months, 6 months, one year later? Does that change the rules? How long is acceptable time to wait before asking out a buddy's ex-girlfriend? Is there anytime? Should one have to ask permission? What about here, where it just happened and wasn't even planned? What about if the same thing occurred 6 months or a year henceforth? Would it make a difference if they were going out for a long time? If he had been in love with her? If he had mentioned that he intended to win her back?

I know I'm playing with fire expressing these thoughts so I caution you all to please, remember, during this holiday season, to put the EX back in Xmas.

Check out a great set of articles (17+) at the Nondating Life blog about dating.

The Meeting

Well it finally happened. I decided to meet a long time blogger of the opposite sex. My friend had gone out with her about a year ago but the relationship ended. I started following her blog since then and as of late we have been speaking on the phone. She has a great laugh and finds my corny humor warped albeit in a good way. I meant to bring a great BBC series called coupling to watch but I forgot it. She was kind enough to treat me to dinner. We danced to Regina Spektor's music, specifically Fidelity and Better. The music itself was the force behind the following. What was memorable was feeling that we were in a movie where the guy and the girl finally embrace and the music rises to a feeling good crescendo. It was a cool feeling. I don't mean to imply that we were at that level, we had only just met. It was a pleasant encounter.

I made plain my intentions, though, that I wasn't interested in a serious relationship and that we should stay friends. Let's see if that's possible. I really hope not to mislead or cause someone to fall for me (maybe this is just my ego talking now and she never would have had such intentions anyway). She has a quality that many women I went out with don't have, a totally accepting personality. Issues are not complicated, things are understandable, live life and all is cool. NO DRAMA.

This post is unrelated to the fiasco of the upcoming post. Although I suspect that someone will connect the two in an unnecessary, off-the-mark way.

Afterthought

There actually was a runner up, fifth place choice for the previous post. After much reflection and deliberation I have chose to add this story as an addendum with honorable mention.

A number of years ago, I was invited to my coworker's wedding. It was a Russian affair, beautifully catered but not Kosher. I hadn't had time to eat prior to my arrival but was happy for the steady supply of vodka. I won't brag how well I held my liquor because I clearly couldn't. I hopped up on stage with the band and two dancer and joined in the show. After a bit, I leaped out into the crowded dance floor with a flying karate kick. I was later told/reminded that I had a great time dancing with everyone.

It came time for the bouquet to be thrown and a lovely lady was lucky to catch it. Then (I think that was the order of events but who can be certain), The groom removed the brides garter and overthrew it way past the bachelors right to my feet. I was married at the time and I was just coming out of my fog. Ten minutes earlier and who knows how bold I might have been but with the return of conscious thought came the inhibitions and guilty conscience. Like a fool, I just pointed to my feet and summoned the bachelors to come and get the garter.

Now that I am divorced, I wished it would have played out differently but I guess my integrity would have been compromised if I had acted inappropriately. ['cause all of you know, I never act inappropriately ;)]