America's Funniest Bear Videos (in Japanese)

Thanks to Brad for a link that eventually led me to this haunting look inside the mind of the Japanese. I love the Japanese version of Bob Saget commenting as a poor scared bear is forced to play with dangerous monkeys and killer lion cubs, all while goofy sound effects play to show the viewer how funny it is. Ever stop to think maybe this is why Godzilla attacked you?

Casino Knowledge

May 19th marked DJ turning as old as me minus 4 days. Puzzle that one out for a while. We went to Mohegan Sun for a boxing match, the ambiance and the extra income craps provides. Though I prefer MMA, my first live boxing card was pretty exciting and had all the glamor that an MMA match at a minor league stadium lacked. After the main event was over and everyone's favorite Rhodey, Peter Manfredo, won, we were able to get down to the second row and watch some pro debuts. Boxers punch hard. Fast too. Here are some other things I learned that night:

• Women's boxing is way less sexy than the internet led me to believe
• Cashing in chips, even if I had lost some, feels like a great deal for me. Here's plastic, here's money for that plastic. Win, win!
  
• The only thing more depressing than a casino at 4 PM on a Saturday is one in Rochester. I kid. Actually, I don't.
• The Roots are Jimmy Fallon's house band because Black Thought is locked up in his basement. Think about it. Have you seen Black Thought recently? Me neither!

Feliz Cumpleanos

Cliched as ever, yet I got to say it anyway. Turning 29 freaked me out more than just a little. Both because of what I'm leaving behind (the roaring 20s) and what I'm heading towards: 30. 30! Not the 30-30 club, which would be awesome, but the certainty of an uncertain adulthood.

To a young L-Bo, 30 represented an unfathomable age. My parents were 30 before I was even born, but that fact never quite stuck with me. So 30 always seemed to be (no offense parents) older to me then than it does now, as that was the age I imagined them for most of my childhood.. Because now, I don't feel like an adult, so I can't feel old. Thirty represented (/still does?) having all my shit together, having a good job, having a ton of fun life experience, including travel and living in other cities/countries, and being ready to settle down with a serious girlfriend. It makes me think of family starting and maybe taking myself a little more seriously. Having not accomplished much of that, I'm hesitant to leave my 20s behind me and move forward. Unfortunately, I'm not certain it's my choice.

O yea, thanks to everyone who came out to help me celebrate! It was a great time, as always. I appreciate the love.

Pretty Pretty Flower: The Prequel

Going back in time, these are my daffodils, which logically bloom before tulips (that's what daffodil means in Latin), apricot tree in blossom, yellow crocuses and some other plant growing next to me. So really, I can't take any credit for that first photo's plant being pretty.

Pretty Pretty Flowers

Last fall, my mom bought me some Dutch tulip bulbs at the Dutch Appreciation Month festival. I was nervous about planting them, because I'd never tried to grow bulbs before, I don't have a great track record with flowers for some reason, and the Dutch scare me a little. However, the results were wonderful, with beautiful purple, red and yellow blooms.







Also, wisteria.

The Chosen Supermarket

For my Super Bowl party this year, I ran out of time and had to go somewhere close decided to try out Pomegranate, a fancy pants large Kosher grocery store written up in the New York Times. People had been espousing it's large selection and tasty produce. They failed to mention how the clientele are oblivious to the concept of spatial relationships, often standing three deep in an aisle so you can't walk past. So on the negative side there was general rudeness, but on the positive, I walked away with some red bananas.

Everything seemed a wash till I got home with the chicken wings, and realized there were feathers on them. Not just one or two tiny down fluffy feathers either, but big-ass feathers, the kind Thomas Jefferson might have dipped in ink before signing...things. These were eagle wings! Why would you sell chicken wings that aren't plucked? There's NO benefit to it, as far as I can tell. And I can tell pretty far.

Then it dawned on me: this might be why the world bears animosity towards you. Try plucking the feathers off wings, chosen people!