Torn

So this past weekend I was back home in the suburbs of Boston enjoying a weekend with family and friends. Sounds good right? Saturday was a perfect day...High 60's/low 70's, not a cloud in the sky....it was fuckin' gorgeous. Not to mention the Dunkin' Donuts coffee I had in my hand....it truly couldn't have been any better... that is until my little sister comes down in her baseball uniform so we could go watch her play in her first game of the season.

Now I consider myself a great brother...an amazing brother. I love my little sister more than anything and would no doubt do anything for her, but as she stood in front of me wearing a New York Mets uniform I had a mini stroke and a little puke came up in to my mouth. My first reaction was to make fun of her for wearing a Mets shirt. My second reaction was to hate her. As the blood began to rush back to my brain I gained composure and realized that this was my little sister and I can't be rude to her. So of course I did my best to pretend like nothing was wrong...it was easy, I just didn't make direct eye contact with her. No big deal. After all ... it's just a little league shirt right?

Well needless to say I found myself rooting for the other team as I watched her game. I thought about sabotaging the Mets, but the parents sitting on the side line looked tough and I was not in the mood to fight. Clapping for the Mets was to say the least very difficult. I mean the Mets. Not that they are good or a threat at all, but they are from New York and well...need I say more. There's my sister...standing in the OF in full Met's gear....I guess I should be happy it wasn't a Yankees shirt. However, that would be impossible since the good folks at little league HQ decided that there would be no NY Yankees team, which I might add was a wise and honorable decision.

So I am still struggling with the fact that my little sister will be wearing this Mets shirt all season, but I do take comfort in the fact that she told me after the game she still loves the Red Sox.

Am I a bad brother because I would be fine with my sister's team losing every game this year?

Close but no cigar

There are few things as hilarious yet painful to me as going to a cigar bar. Underneath the thick smokey air that limits your ability to breathe and borders on being torturous is the sweet smell of pure testosterone. Mmmmmm...nothing like some testosterone to get you going.

While it appears that men are merely sitting on red leather furniture smoking their stogies, they are in fact doing far more than you can imagine.

It all starts when you walk in the door. Say good bye to fresh air and say hello to guys bull shitting all over the place. The reality is that the average guy has no fucking clue about what differentiates a good cigar from a bad cigar, a 5 dollar cigar from a 50 dollar cigar, and a Cuban from a cigar rolled in Chelsea. But no guy would ever dare let anyone catch on to his lack of expertise. Rather, it is at this point that Joe Shmoe is all of a sudden a fucking cigar aficionado. The lingo dropped in the walk in humidor, which no doubt has been ripped from reading a few articles in Maxim or other such magazines, is absolutely hysterical...but most importantly it is all Bull Shit.

Dark, light, mild, sweet, spicy, strong, rich, blaaaaa....Why do we feel the need to act like we know? Like it makes a fucking difference? We all know that we hate the shit...it tastes like crap, hurts our throats, makes us reek like an ash tray, and eventually causes cancer. Yet we feel some manly compulsion...a magnetic attraction that we must go to these places.

While the entire scene is hilarious...there a select few things that are my all time favorite.

There's the above mentioned asshole in the humidor talking about shit he clearly has no idea about, but then there is also the licker, the smeller, and of course the starer.

The Licker - this is the guy that talks a big game in the humidor, enjoys spending entirely too much money on a cigar, and has no issue with salivating all over his tobacco. He nestles in to his chair and begins licking his cigar...like its a fucking Popsicle mind you. I mean I guess I have heard that this is an acceptable thing to do...but come on.

The smeller - this is the guy who smells his cigar for a good 5-10 minutes before even thinking about lighting it. If he could stick it up his nose he would. I want to throw my matches at him and tell him to light the fucking thing already because the longer it takes for you to smoke it, the longer it means I have to sit here and get emphysema.

The Starer - He's your basic douche bag asshole. He lights his cigar and then watches the smoke exiting his mouth. He watches the ash build on the end of the cigar. He turns the cigar, he tilts his head back and he blows smoke in to the filthy air. Like I said....your basic douche bag asshole. Like his smoke is the most amazing thing ever to be put on this earth.

All in all....while it's a nice theory. Cigar bars kind of suck. Cigars make your throat feel like someone poured an empty ash tray down your throat and then ran sand paper over it. I can see why people enjoy the dry, raw feeling and the small lump that develops....its amazing. Not to mention the cancer. Seriously your eyes burn and your lungs cry.

If it wasn't the truth...

I would never believe it if it wasn't the g-d's honest truth. Not only did John Adams, one of the most brilliant and influential men in the history of this great nation die on July 4th, but so too did his counterpart, and equally brilliant and influential friend (and enemy at times) Thomas Jefferson.

I mean come on...Two founding fathers of the American Revolution both dying not only on the same day in the same year...but on Independence day of all days! You couldn't even make that shit up if you tried.

Just a quick entry I thought was kind of interesting....and we should all be aware of.

Can you hear me now????

LOUD AND CLEAR ASSHOLE!!!!

Could there be anything more absolutely fucking obnoxious and just plain rude than the way people talk on their cell phones?

Holy shit...Keep your voice down you FAT BITCH!

Can't she see that I, like the 7 other patrons at this shitty sandwich shop are trying to eat our shitty lunch and enjoy our shitty break from our shitty job? Is it too much to ask that I eat my food in peace?

Apparently it is. Apparently Hungry Hungry Hippo, who by the way couldn't have shovelled that sandwich down her fat throat any faster, has her own agenda today and feels like making me privy to her oh so exciting life...whether I like it or not.

At first I thought she was talking to herself and wondered if perhaps she was a bit crazy. Being a very compassionate guy, specifically to people suffering from mental disease, I said to myself..."OK. If she's crazy then I won't be upset. It's a sad thing. Not a big deal." But just then, as I was about to hate myself for thinking such bad thoughts about a mentally disabled person, I saw that she was talking on her cell phone. Please note, that had this been a normal sized person the cell phone would have been easily recognizable instantly, but at her great size, this Sasquatches hands made the cell phone appear to be but a crumb on her bulbous fingers. It looked like a single raisin in a loaf of bread. After throwing up in my mouth...I gained composure and listen to the beast tell her story for the next thirty minutes.

Now here is what gets me...Does she not know that I can hear her? Or does she just not give a shit?

The answer to that is very important. If she doesn't know I can hear her than she is retarded, and making fun of a retarded person as mentioned earlier is never right. BUT, for the odd chance that she is not a silly little bastard, and she just could care less about other people....well then I have a problem...and she and everyone else like her can go fuck themselves!

I need to hear your whole fucking life story? Mine isn't good enough?

After reading this I would hope you are not only more aware of where and how loud you speak on your cell phone, but also about how others do so. Don't be a follower...just because some people are assholes doesn't mean that you have to be.

Start a revolution!

Please leave a message...

After the tone....blah blah blah. We all know how that works. But is there not a more confusing time in your life (except of course the years spent in the 6th - 8th grades) than when you are leaving a message and you aren't sue if you heard the beep?

What do you do? Do you go ahead and leave the message...or do you just wait there in silence, hoping to hear this fucking beep...which of course never comes?

Either way you are screwed.

If you start talking, just to be on the safe side...then u are an asshole. First off, the message will suck. The whole time you are trying to speak you will have this inner monologue screaming at you "Did I hear that beep? I think I did. Is this thing recording? Is it going to catch me in the middle of a sentence?" Needless to say, you will sound like a moron!

If you wait...longing to hear the tone, you run the risk of the message being recorded with no actual words being spoken. Rather, the intended party may hear several noises...all of which are not your intended communication.

This just happened to me. What did I do you may wonder. I was true to form and acted like an asshole. I began speaking....leaving an awkward and incoherent message. I have still not had my call returned. Leaving me to now wonder...did they not get my message or did I sound that absolutely stupid that I don't merit a call back????

Someone has been reading my blog.....

and his name was Benedict. 

I take 100% of the credit for the Pope's decision to hold a 

secret meeting with victims of the church scandal in Boston earlier this afternoon.

Who dare say my blog has no impact on the world?

See here...THE POPE READS AVI'S BLOG

Please note the actual picture of Benedict reading my blog entry.

Thank you dad...

for teaching me one of lifes most important lessons.
No...not how to be a man. Not how to drive, or throw a ball, none of these can possibly compare to the lesson I speak about.

What lesson do I claim to be so important you ask? Come closer and I shall tell you. I shall tell you the story of the Crow's Nest. Yes...the Crow's Nest. The single most valuable lesson I carry with me to this very day.


The Crow's Nest dates back hundreds of years and is rumored to have been created by a narotic Jewish parent (is there any other?) and/or by a brilliant engineer. It has saved us from infections, diseases, uncomfort, and other such perils associated with the toilet bowl.

I remember the first time my father showed me the "Nest"...it was as if I had just been born. I was entering the filthy, scary, and definitely AIDS infested toilets at the old Boston Garden. I had been holding a deuce inside for quite some time, but this guy had to come out. I tried my hardest to squeeze him back up...but alas I lost the struggle. Besides it was clearly my destiny...some greater plan in place, that wanted me to crap at that exact moment so as to ensure that I was instructed by my father. I cried, even begged my father to take me out of the horrible facilities and go to a cleaner place. He denied my plea and began tearing even length pieces of toilet paper from the roll. As he lay the paper strategically along the top of the shit encrusted and Hepatitis infested toilet seat...I slowly but surely realized what he was doing...and I was all about it!!

To this day there is no public bathroom I fear, nor private for that matter. In fact I often utilize the "nest" in my own bathroom on those cold winter morns so as to keep my tuchas (yiddish word for ass...make sure to build some good phlegm on the pronunciation of it or else it's not authentic) nice and warm.
There are many lessons my father has taught me...each has a special place in my heart...but none more so than the day I made my first "nest."

Do you utilize the nest?????

Up with hope...down with the pope

Unless you are out of touch with the world and/or a complete moron you have definitely heard about his Holiness, Pope Benedicto's visit to the good old US of A, and I for one could care less.

It's not the extensive TV and news coverage that aggravates me. It's not his decision to perform mass at Yankees stadium (although Fenway Park would have clearly been better for obvious reasons). It's not his prior involvement as a young man in the Hitler Youth Movement, and it's not how he lives in an absolutely magnificent insulated city enjoying grandness and luxury like that of kings, while countless human beings suffer from malnutrition and improper medical attention all over the world. Rather, I am absolutely disgusted by Pope Benedicto's decision to exclude Boston from the itinerary on his US Tour. I know what you're thinking..."Avi...enough. Give it up. Boston is not the end-all-be-all of the world." And while you are incorrect in saying that and a big fuck you for thinking it....that is not the reason at all. Boston has one of the countries largest concentration of practicing catholics in the US, but more importantly it is the city involved in one of the most infamous and outrageous scandals.

As the church scandal slowly and steadily unravelled, more and more innocent adults revealed the blasphemous acts committed by Catholic Priests. Sexual molestation, rape, guilt, and years of psychological struggles have traumatized the lives of innocent boys who are now men, and have received nothing but insincere and hollow apologies from the very religion that promises peace and preaches fear.

This would have been the perfect opportunity, as if they haven't had enough of them already, for the Pope himself to issue a direct statement to the men and families who have been forever scarred. Catholics should be outraged by the blatant hypocrisy demonstrated by Benedicto and his cronies. A fault of humans, which may also be deemed a strength, is our ability to forgive, but even more miraculous than that is our absolute DESIRE to forgive.
I think an apology is long over due. No more running away. No more writing checks of pity. How about a good old fashioned..."Hey I'm sorry...we fucked up. Give us another shot." But alas, this is the Catholic Church we are talking about. They clearly have better things to do...like telling people who they can and cannot marry and of course when you can and cannot have a baby.

Times have changed...people have changed...BUT still one thing remains constant...The Catholic Church.

NOTE: Don't confuse this little shpeel as a direct attack on any ones religion. I am just real disappointed with how the Church has ignored so many people that have been completely screwed up from such horrible things. I happen to be Jewish, but I do not and would never say that one is wrong and one is right. I just think faith is important...whatever you choose it to be. Being from Boston and reading the recent articles written about how wonderful the Pope is was the catalyst for this entry. The Pope had a 3-0 pitch right over the plate here...and missed big time...I guess that's because he's a Yankee's fan!

Everyone Farts At Work

And if you say you don't than you're a fucking liar.
The only person I can think of that doesn't fart at work is Paris Hilton...and that's solely because she doesn't work...but if she did, she would fart. Besides she definitely farted in prison.

While it's clearly a bodily function that no one readily admits to, besides myself and of course my 79 year old grandfather (who i might add should be considered one of the fiercest flatulators of all time), it is almost an unspoken fact that it is going around you at all times. Actually I take that back...i definitely do not readily confess to half of the shit that comes out of my ass.

Most of the times I just gently let it out and pray that no one confronts me. I mean who confronts someone they work with about farting? Family and friends, that's one thing...but a fucking co-worker...how dare you? Don't you know the rules...I fart, you smell it and shut your mouth and just talk shit about me behind my back. It's common fucking sense. Show some courtesy you degenerate asshole. When you fart I do the same thing... accept I occasionally make eye contact so as to let you know that I know. You know the look...a slight smile, but not too much, just enough to let him know that he's not fooling anybody.

Other times I go for the quick release. It's usually a lot louder, but in certain circumstances it is clearly the correct game plan. Specific examples of places to utilize this are the office shredder, a loud fax machine, and of course when maintenance is vacuuming. I fart right in front of my maintenance guy. If I could I would clime on his back and fart on his chest...but that would just be rude. The poor guy has no clue...he has a metal plate in his head, but I'm almost positive that doesn't really fuck up your sense of smell...and if it does then he couldn't smell it anyway.

While I could go on in greater detail...the point is that this is happening. Right now in fact.
Right in your cozy office, your large warehouse, your manufacturing plant, your cubicle, in every public building, every bank, every law firm, even at the white house. Shit... I have farted twice since writing this. The key is to recognize which type of office farter you are to be most courteous to others and most importantly to avoid being caught.
Which are you???

The silent, loud, obvious, sneaky, courteous, rude, asshole, pre lunch, after lunch, farts from the depths of a humans anus one never knew existed, or the ever so rare pleasant fart...

Please be advised this list is non-exhaustive and is open for debate..please post your own office farting style