John and Tweet Plus 8

So if you came to this blog with aspirations of commentary on Judge Sonia Sotomayor I'm afraid you may be a little disappointed. But I will say that a Supreme Court justice from the BX is all right by me. There are nine Supreme Court justices, which is a lot, but they deal with all kinds of complex issues and make landmark decisions, so I can see that nine makes sense. According to Wikipedia the number of justices fluctuated in the 1800s, but in 1869 the number was set at nine via the Judiciary Act of 1869, obviously. But nine is a lot. So is eight, but you can't have eight justices because of the whole even number thing and I guess seven seemed too few. But my point is this: Eight is a lot. You ever eat eight slices of pizza in one sitting? Too much. An eight game NBA series? Makes no sense. Eight hours straight of watching TV? Sucks the life right out of you. Eight cups of coffee? Not healthy. So my question is why are people even remotely surprised that Jon and Kate of Jon and Kate Plus EIGHT are failing miserably. I watched this show twice, ever, and I don't know what season it was, but things are not right in that household. And now you can't turn anywhere without hearing someone talking about them or the show or whatever. I saw a clip of the season premiere on Entertainment Tonight, and I'm not a psychologist or a therapist, but when the husband of your EIGHT children shows up to his sextuplets fifth birthday alone, an hour late, in a white sports car, with dark shades on, and looks like he'd rather be getting a root canal, I'm guessing that doesn't bode well for the relationship. I'm sure all eight of the kids are adorable and great, but taking care of eight little ones with a camera crew all up in your business every day is a recipe for disaster. I'm sitting on the couch watching the Cavs/Magic game right now. I'd venture to say that Jon is dealing with some sort of disaster right now with cameras about five inches from his face and all that man wants to do is sit on his couch, in peace, with a cheap domestic beer, and an expensive foreign hooker, and watch the Cavs/Magic game. Okay enough of JK+8 as the kids call it. But the abbreviation of JK+8 leads me to my next point.

Facebook's newest valuation came in at $10bn. Billion. This number fluctuates of course, but based on the latest investment from Sky Media we are going with $10bn. And you're telling me the Twitter guys can't find a way to monetize what they have. I wouldn't sleep a wink if I knew that I was leaving that kind of crazy money on the table. I'm not sure how much staying power Twitter has though. I think it's kind of annoying. I don't 'tweet' because I don't have the stamina to continually post, and clearly I can't keep it under 140 characters. Also, do people actually care what I'm doing all day long? Probably not. Actually, hopefully not. I don't follow any Twitter page but here is what I'm imagining some great tweets would say, and feel free to post some of your own creations below. Creativity is encouraged and of course abide by the under 140 characters rule...

OMG!! Mizu sushi is amaaaze!! Luv the dragon roll!! Baygs baygs baygs.

Bob Sheppard is the man. Now batting, #2, Derek, Jet-ah.

Godfather marathon on AMC. Pretending Godfather3 never existed. Andy Garcia is not Italian.

Anyone know where to get bahn mi on the LES? Hollah at a brother.

Bahn Mi? No, bahn you.

Clearly the possibilities are endless, but I only really think about this because I'm not trying to take my sweet ass time blogging while I'm in Asia, because after all, there are freshwater crabs that are just waiting to be eaten. I think my posts will turn into some sort of cross between a blog post and a tweet, but just due to timing, and I promise I will never use "OMG" or exclamation points. I really don't believe in exclamation points. Or do I! I don't.

Next stop for me is East Hampton which often provides me with fabulous blog material. If nothing else I just hope it'll provide me with some good weather. I'll leave you with a possible Hamptons tweet...

"$60/lb Lobster salad. Are you kidding me? There better be flakes of gold mixed in there"

Lessons and Stories from SF

Back in CT now. The week in San Francisco was unreal and a big thanks to Abe for letting me crash for a week. There are so many lessons and learnings (that's a horrible made up b-school word...learnings) from my trip to San Francisco and since I definitely have the time I'm just going to drop knowledge about my trip out West.

Beware, the Cougars Will Bite
Last Friday night we went out in the Marina, which is from what I gather one of the yuppiest spots in SF, but also a very fun spot. I've heard San Francisco has a rep for being a top rated cougar hangout and for a definition of cougar we'll just link to the Urban dictionary in case you've been living under a rock. It makes sense I guess. There are a lot of nerdy tech-types with large cash flow and little idea of how to woo women. Cougar: Enter stage left, and bridge that gap. So we are bar hopping in the Marina and go to this spot Balboa's which apparently is like Plymouth Rock and/or Mecca for cougars, and within I don't know, two minutes, we are accosted by a cougar. The thing is, these women aren't necessarily bad looking. Sure they've all got a little crows feet situation going on, which can be cute, and they take care of their bodies because lord knows they don't have jobs and have time on their hands, which is nice, but them bitches is crazy. So Friday night I got a taste of what it's like to be looked at like an infirmed gazelle amidst a pack of ravenous felines. On Saturday morning we went out to the Marin Headlands to hike along the coast and up through the hills, which I'm sorry NYC, but you got nothing on the outdoorsy activities of SF and the surrounding 'burbs. View from the hike...

Yeah. That's kind of all right.

So we're hiking and enjoying the scenery and afterward the plan was to head to Tiburon to a bar on the Bay for some day drinking. So we get to the spot and it's an absolute mob scene. Ladies, if you ain't wearing a sun dress don't even think about coming in. It was like the Hamptons (a la Sunset Beach) transplanted in SF on the Bay. We are seated outside on the deck across the aisle from two cougars. White linen numbers, arguably real breasteses, platinum blonde hair, and not unattractive. Seated at their table are two younger guys, and I'm hearing every word of their conversation. One dude has his hands all over Cougar 1, rubbing her lower back, which for a hot day would strike me as pretty nasty, but whatever. He has a case of roaming hands, and these hands are finding their way slightly south of the border to her buttocksal region. Cougar 1 is gently chiding this young man, and her "No. Don't. Stop." sounds way more like, "No, don't stop". And then all hell breaks loose because she finds out that this dude is engaged, and she starts yelling at this guy, telling him "how dare you do that to your fiance" and "you're going to lose the best thing you have". Etc etc. Well the dude bounces almost immediately as does his buddy, and before those two chairs have a chance to even cool down a single degree they are filled by a sassy looking black man with designer shades and some guy with a babyface who couldn't have been a day older than 20. Well Cougar1 is much happier now with her Tyson Beckford wannabe, but Cougar2 seems a little peeved. The 20yr old, sensing he's just stepped into a world of hurt, tries to assuage the situation by saying the following, and this is almost an exact quote, "Hey, I've been watching what you ladies have been doing today, and I'd figured I'd take a seat and have a try", to which the cougar smiled, peered over her glasses and said, "I'll give you five minutes". What? It was like musical chairs plus Elimi-date all in one. It was unreal. Anyway, between the bar and the hiking and just being outside in 80 degree weather by the water all day, I mean seriously, what a day. But the next day would be even better.

What I Learned From Bay to Breakers '09
First, I learned that San Francisco is the nakedest city ever. You want to walk a 12k in 80 degree weather without having your tshirt and undergarments getting all sweaty and nasty? Easy, just wear nothing and carry a towel. Problem solved. I also learned that water, combined with tossing thousands of tortillas all over the place can make for a very slippery and sugary road. Cuidado! I also learned that when people in SF say that Bay to Breakers is the best day of the year this is no hyperbole, this is "for serious".

For my "team", the FBI (Friendly Beer Investigators), go time was 8am. I'm not sure how to describe it, but the course was packed with people, dressed in costume or not at all, all toting alcohol, either in bags, backpacks, or elaborate floats. It was mayhem. It was hot and sweaty and crazy and it was awesome.

Me, somewhere on Earth.

This flag saved my life a number of times since I made quite a few pit stops along the way and I would've been absolutely lost had it not been for someone waving our flag. Seriously good idea. My contribution wasn't as utilitarian but it was equally awesome in my opinion. At some point along the course we stopped at someone's house for a house party. Huge house, like Full House San Fran style, with a patio and yard and a keg, and Uncle Joey, Uncle Jesse and Kimmy Gibler. The party was already going strong but I wanted to bring some Michigan/College flavor and kick it up a notch so I broke out The Gargoyle, which then prompted most of the other guys to do the same. Why do they call it The Gargoyle you ask...

...because you look like a gargoyle.

I never actually made it from the Bay all the way to the Breakers, few revelers actually do, so I guess technically I never finished the race, but when I was done, I was done. And best of all, the trophy was a delicious meal at a Burmese restaurant, which was my first meal all day and it was just what the doctor ordered. Which brings me to my next lesson...

I Can Be 'that guy' that finds the underground awesome food spots

Seriously. I could. Burma Superstar in SF is no real secret, but how hard is it to go to any neighborhood and try interesting foods, and write about it. On my walk back from the Mission I was craving some authentic mexican food, so I stopped off at Toyonense, a food truck on the corner of 16th and I Shouldn't Walk Here Alone at Night Avenue. I ordered a chicken taco and a pork taco and I paid $3.50 and what I got in return was worth way more than that. I love La Esquina tacos and I still think those are some of my favorite, but these were pretty close. Fresh meat, street meat at that, spicy salsa, pickled veggies, lime, and love. Listen NYTimes, don't even pay me, okay, pay me a little, but send me all over the world to do what Anthony Bourdain does. Instead, I'll be parked behind a desk for the rest of my life ordering shitty pad thai at 11pm. Sweet.

I don't know what else to say. Go to San Francisco. Move there. Set up shop and have babies. And eat tacos. It's just that simple. Just do it.

Leaving My Heart in San Francisco

Don't dare me to do it, because I will. It only takes one Jewish girl. I only touched down in San Francisco about 4 hours ago but it took about 30 minutes to realize why I gushed about San Francisco in this blog post last March. It's 65 degrees, sunny, and I walked around the ballpark, down by the piers, and I'm currently sipping a cold Anchor Steam, looking out at water, watching the sailboats, and blogging. This is how Don Francisco, founder of this great city, would have wanted it. Don Francisco was the founder of San Francisco, wasn't he?

Sabado GiGANTE!

Anyway, apparently I've stumbled upon what will be an excellent weekend weatherwise and activity-wise with various parties, a Mets/Giants game on Friday, and Bay to Breakers coming up this Sunday. I guess my timing is impeccable. There's a lot of San Francisco I haven't seen since when I was here last it was only for a few days. Typical me, my first objective is to find a place with cheap and excellent beef pho, which is basically a Vietnamese noodle soup (not that I won't be in Vietnam in less than a month), but that's how I roll. So I did some research and I said what the hell, it's a gorgeous day, so I'm going to find me some pho, and I set off. And all along my walk I'm thinking to myself, how is pho that's going to be this good going to be this cheap. Oh, because it's in the middle of the ghetto, that's how. In San Francisco even the gangbangers look nice and friendly but even I know when to turn the around in the exact opposite direction and walk as fast as I can, and pull my sleeves down so as to cover my watch, which reminds me of the stories my grandmother used to tell me when she ventured way uptown by herself to buy me and my cousins Olaf's (apologies for the gratuituous dude torso shots). I still have a pair of maroon and grey Olaf's at home somewhere. Anyway I guess I'll have to wait for fifty cent pho with a side of malaria in a few weeks.

Last weekend was my first weekend back in New York City since Thanksgiving, and it was a great weekend. More than any other weekend in the city it made me realize that I need a blackberry. Not that I'm soooo popular, because I'm not, but in Ann Arbor it was like on a Tuesday there was literally only one place we were going to go and if we weren't going there we weren't going anywhere. Not so in New York. It's a digital age and I am still analog. I read something like that on a t-shirt in Paragon. And speaking of Paragon, I'm compiling "gear" for my SE Asia mission, and so far I know I need underwear, and that's about it. I think I have the basics covered, but if someone reads this and has any recommendations for something outside the box that was helpful to them while traveling please drop a note or comment or whatever. Thank you in advance for that.

So what's on tap for tomorrow you ask. You didn't ask, but I'm telling you anyway. Two words...fish tacos. I want fish and I want tacos and if the two can be combined all the better. Don Francisco and I will catch you all later.

See You in Saigon

First, some unfinished business. In my April 5th blog I mentioned/revealed that I wrote a column for the business school newspaper under the name "The Chef", and while for those of you who aren't recent Michigan grads you probably don't care, but it cause some ripples, minor ripples, at school. When people found out it was me they were very surprised and some people, in what must be the backhanded comment of the century, said "You can't be The Chef. You're not that funny". Um, thanks, I think?

Last Friday I graduated. Donzo. In theory I'd been "done" for a while, but when that last grade officially came across the transom and was posted, well, that's when it became official...official that I am a Master of Business Administration. Business...um, Mastered it, oh and Administration...Mastered that ish too. That anyone calls me a Master of anything is laughable, but whatever. Graduation was somewhat anti-climatic but nonetheless I had a great weekend with my parents and they finally got to see Ann Arbor sans rain which I was happy about. I know how it goes when you graduate from undergrad. You tell all your friends that you'll keep in touch and some people are good at it and some are horrendous at it. At Michigan I had all my closest friends all within a short walk of me and the most sad part about leaving is that simply won't exist anymore, ever. So for those of you who do a bad job of staying in touch, just think about how little effort it takes to call someone once every few months and talk for ten minutes. Of course, if you don't care to do so then don't bother but I'm just saying that it really isn't that difficult. Without writing a saga, I'll just say that these past two years were two incredibly busy and absurdly awesome two years. If I could do it all over again I would do it exactly the same. I had dinner with some friends my last night there which was Cinco de Mayo. After a great meal and some drinks it was time to go home and pack up and I walked back to campus with a friend who I will be traveling with in June and July. As we parted ways he said, "I know this is the only time I'll ever get to say this, but 'I'll see you in Saigon'", and we both laughed because the next time I'll see him will be in Vietnam where we will begin what I'm sure will be an insane five-week jaunt through SE Asia. I refuse to believe this crazy ride is over until I'm sitting in a cube on Day 1 of work.

I got up this morning at 6am, put the final touches on cleaning up/packing up and headed out on the road. The early wakeup coupled with not burning the candle on both ends, but absolutely torching the candle on both ends as of late, and my aversion to caffeine made the drive today absolutely hellish. At about 9:30am I could sense I was getting dangerously tired. I thought back to the trip to Australia and the billboards we encountered every few miles in Victoria. They kept saying things like, "Tired? Take a nap" and "Naps save lives". I thought to myself, well that's a great idea but I'm going to power through this, but I was just dying out there and it wasn't safe. Then, and I swear this happened, Men at Work's "Land Down Under" came on the radio (in Ohio?) and I believed it to be a sign and pulled over at the next rest stop for a 30 minute nap. Truth be told, I struggled on the road all day, and I'm running on fumes right now, but I'm home and in my old single bed from back in the day and I intend to sleep in tomorrow and then come downstairs and open a fridge that contains more than mustard, eggs, jam, butter, and Miller Lite and make myself a hearty healthy breakfast. And on that note, this Master is closing the books on May 6th 2009.

Let's Get Fiscal

I just turned on my TV because I wanted to watch this week's DVR-ed episode of Lost and then I got pretty angry when I realized my DVR didn't record the show this week. It took a few minutes to realize that today isn't Thursday, it's Wednesday, and Lost hasn't aired yet. Over the last week I've been lost in the space-time continuum, not knowing what day it is, or what activity I have planned. It's been great. Last night I made it to Detroit to watch the Yankees whup up on the Tigers. I know I've said this before but Detroit is a sad place. All the buildings around the stadium were dark and some didn't even have windows, and it wasn't because people were done with work and trying to save on air conditioning costs.

By my next post I will have graduated, and I keep checking to make sure that those last 1.5 credits come through the system so it is official. But I have other problems. Not the swine flu. Not the minor bug infestation in my apartment. Something bigger. I'm a wanted fugitive in Australia. Apparently we received a speeding ticket in Victoria, Australia. Were we ever pulled over by a cop? No. So clearly it was some sort of camera or speed gun or something, so it's kind of impossible to dispute. I don't remember going too fast. If anything we were extra sensitive to the speed laws because we were driving in a different country, and the fact that we were driving on the opposite side of the road made us more cautious. The damage is about $250 USD which split among 5 people is palatable, but still annoying. I don't know how this whole thing works exactly, but in the Finger Economic Stimulus Plan I'm making sure that I'm ticketing foreigners renting cars two months after leaving they leave US. "But I don't know the kilometers per hour to mph conversion and I don't remember speeding"... well tough cookies Jean Claude, that'll be $400 paid to the state of Connecticut. If we could somehow convince foreigners to travel to Michigan we could revitalize Detroit on speed tickets alone. Can we do this? Yes we can. Ok, we probably can't but it's probably the best idea I've had all day.

Campus is getting crowded and it truly is a pleasure to see these Jappy girls with their parents in tow. There's no better barometer of how a jewish girl is going to look and act when they grow up than by looking at their mother. Ann Arbor waiters and waitresses beware.

Fin.

So I have this kind of weird reoccurring daydream whenever I'm in class. If class is boring or I don't particularly want to be there at that moment I dream that I reach into my backpack and pull out this little box. In this little box is a baseball with a note taped to it and the note reads, "You know what to do". And what I'm supposed to do is stand up and throw the baseball through the clock and then every clock in the entire school explodes and everyone comes rushing out of their classes and right out the front door throwing all their papers and notes in the air. It's magnificent. I can't even begin to tell you how many times I've had this daydream in class, but now what's the point...classes are over...forever...until I apply to Michigan Law School and get another three years as a student. No, I'm just joking, I'm done with school. Now I just have to start the cleaning up process of getting rid of stuff I can't possibly need or want once I move home/to NYC. For a packrat like me that's not going to be easy, because you know, seriously, I think I'll need that Make a Wish Foundation Charity 3-on-3 Basketball Tournament t-shirt for the rest of my life; not to wear of course, but to have in my drawer to look at from time to time.
Thankfully I was able to sell the vast majority of stuff to the next tenant of room 402, but I still have a bed and a lot of dishware to contend with. Who the hell was I kidding when I bought a set of wine glasses from Ikea, or when I brought my wok to school, or my reading pillow, my DVD player, or my copy of Sun Tzu's Art of War. Jay-Z said, "All I need...rocawear (check), nike airs (check), mean bucket (uh-huh), Armadale in the club, couple of duckets (yeah), couple of chicks by my side now let's ride...". That would be nice of course but all I need is a phone (check), a fridge (check), some chicken (uh-huh), internet connection in my room, couple of duckets.

I traveled internationally this past weekend. To Windsor Ontario. Which is right across the Detroit River. Yeah, there's a Detroit River. I went to a bachelor party on Friday night, and was back on Saturday morning. I'm still baffled how the bachelor is still alive right now, and am legitimately scared of what Las Vegas would be like. I've never been, and I'm guessing I probably need to go at some point in the next few years. And on Saturday we kept it rolling in Ann Arbor.

Rolling in Ann Arbor.

Segways are kind of awesome and kind of scary at the same time. I wonder if you can get a DUI riding a Segway. So here I am on Tuesday counting down the days, counting the number of sneakers in my closet and wondering how the days of school decreased so rapidly while the number of sneakers increased so rapidly. I just don't know. I just, don't, know.

One or Two? Two or Three?

My pupils are dilated from a visit to the optometrist, so in true creepy blogger fashion I'm sitting in the dark, alone, listening to music, eating peanut butter from the jar and typing. It's been a while since I've been to get my eyes checked, and it's been a while since having my favorite optometrist conversation, which obviously centers around looking at letters and determining how blind I actually am...

Doc: One or two?
Me: Two.
Doc: Two or Three?
Me: Um, three.
Doc: Three or Four?
Me: I can't really tell if there's a difference...
Doc: Three or Four?
Me: Can I see Three again?
Doc: Three.
Me: Okay, and now Four
Doc: Four.
Me: Jeez, Three one more time please.
Doc: Okay...Three.
Me: Wow, they are sooo similar. I think I'm going to go with Four.
Doc: Ok, now tell me...
Me:...wait, definitely Three. Three. Definitely Three.

For those of you scoring at home my prescription is a slight -.75, -.75, which is good enough to avoid wearing classes most of the time, but just bad enough to have to squint at people standing far away, thus looking like a total creepy weirdo, especially at the bars.

Tomorrow I will hopefully be squinting into the sun, as Wednesday marks the first of three consecutive days of golf. I'm praying for an appearance by my friend Ra, the Sun God.

Ra, with one of those newfangled putters.

I've played at least once a week for the past three weeks and I'm definitely getting into it. With local greens fees coming in at a whopping $25 (including cart) and kosher hotdogs at the turn it's hard not to get excited for Spring in Ann Arbor. I've been spending the last couple weeks pretending that school isn't coming to a close, but my nose was shoved in it last Saturday at the Michigan Spring Football game, which is simply a practice/scrimmage that 50,000 people show up to. Walking down Hill towards the stadium in 50+ degree weather with everyone outside drinking and grilling made me realize that come September that won't exist for me. Depressing. Very depressing. It's like I'm living the life of a retiree without even having worked. Actually more like a retiree who eats like a 20 year old, and drinks like a 23 year old scientist. The reason I say scientist stems from shenanigans last night. We have an MBA bar crawl next week, and one of the stops is a German rathskeller called Heidelberg. At Heidelberg my team of five will drink a boot of beer (88oz of glory). It will look like this...

So being the competitors that we are, and it also being a Monday, we decided to go and practice. Between the debates about handoffs, the possible anchorman, proper beer temperature to maximize speed, and of course the navigation of the air bubble, you would've thought we were taking all the fun out of drinking beer, however, in two "dry" runs we were able to go sub-55 seconds twice, plus we shaved two seconds by smoothing out our transitions. Also worth noting is none of us tested positive for performance enhancing drugs. I think we can go below 50 seconds. I really do. These are the things that keep me awake at night, and now you can understand why the prospect of leaving this place in three weeks makes me want to cry little boot-shaped tears of beer.