"I am special, I am special. Look at me."

Let's Raise a Toast to The Hoff

2007-05-07T22:31:00.000-07:00

As The Boff, I have to say that I am deeply saddened by the reaction to the recently released video of The Hoff. I have to say better acting cannot be found beyond the combined and complete Nightrider and Baywatch anthologies. And here's the kicker-- HE WASN'T ACTING! If the honesty of emotion radiating off the shirtless Hoff struggling to finish the most sustenant of meals in the American diet, a Wendy's double cheeseburger, while grappling with the tyrannical beast of alcoholisim can't win him an Oscar... well then they should just abolish The Academy in The Boff's opinion.

I want to raise a toast of whatever The Hoff got wrecked off of, and say, "thank you dear man... Thank you for addressing alcohol abuse head on! Thank you for volunteering your problem to the world! You are to alcoholism what Michael J. Fox is to Parkinson's disease, what Arthur Ashe is to AIDS, what Christopher Reeves is to people in wheel chairs, what Martin Luther King is to black people." Let's just hope The Hoff is just as successful! I want to raise that toast and finish that toast... and then I want to say, "God-damnit man get on your horse to recovery! You deserve to, because you are The Hoff." The Hoff never finishes second to anyone, and he won't finish second to alcoholism either. Let the words "I had the mini-bar"* be words spoken about the distant past.

-Boff Out

*http://gawker.com/news/gawker-book-club/dont-hassel-the-hoff-hoff-calls-baywatch-sexist-258348.php-- The Hoff explains here that he was not the womanizer in real life everyone assumed, but instead an alcoholic who would not leave his room and instead... he "had the mini-bar."

Night Out!

2007-04-03T09:52:00.000-07:00

A night out is defined by the following happening:

-You are wearing women's shoes, pants, and tanktop by 8 pm.

-You don't make it past midnight at 80's Night because you're too wasted.

-You have a conversation with Quintero about guys making out and how it's cool... and then you try to make out with Quintero and it ain't so cool.

-You wake up at 5:55 am not knowing where the fuck you are or why the fuck you are wearing women's pants, and it takes a few minutes to figure out that you crashed in your office.

-You Dutch Oven yourself out of bed with virulent gas that comes along once in a decade.

-You get the following text message from Ingrid in the morning:

I would like the following items returned to me:
my pants
my sweater
my jacket
my sunglasses
my dignity

You're still wearing her pants. You have no idea where everything else is.

Summation: NIGHT OUT!

Check out Chickytava's pictures here.

3/30/07: Boff Links

2007-03-30T10:14:00.000-07:00

Hey all! Just a short post to tell you that I will still be continuing to do The Blog, but much less frequently and in a much different vein. The reports of the demise of The Blog have been greatly exaggerated.

I would also like to direct you toward the below link to see all of my links. One can find a lot out about The Boff via his links.

Boff's Links: Check 'Em Out

Boff Out!

3/19/07: Oh Fuck, Who Am I Kidding... It's 3/27/07

2007-03-27T20:20:00.000-07:00

Who the hell am I kidding? As I sit here at 3 in the morning in my soiled boxers, scraping shittily-made Mexican food off the bottom of a pyrex bowl while listening to my Trance Trippin' CD I pose the relevance of my life and The Blog.

What am I? I am not the slick, smooth-as-butter, lady killer with model-hot looks everyone has come to know me as. I am... so sad to say... I am a loser, plain and simple.

I sit spending most of my day pressing the refresh button on my site meter to see if just one more person has visited my blog. That's my life friends.... That's all.... That's it.

-I do not possess model-hot looks. I mean, I'm next to leper quality.

-My ass is gigantic and releases frequent noxious farts.

-My one accomplishment in life is scoring an 8.9 rating on HotorNot.com on a doctored photo.

-The only thrill in the last year of my life came when I forced everyone to wear a t-shirt with my "model-hot" face, every day, all the time.

-My selection of music is abysmal.... For fuck sake, #16 on the countdown is Sk8er Boy. #4 is, I kid you the-fuck-not, Girls Just Want to Have Fun.

-I am not the swinger I portray myself to be. Those scenes of me game-spittin' at the swanky 4th Ave. bars... are... I'm so sad to say... made up.

-My life is one nut drop away from anarchy. I can't even keep up posting regularly to a blog. I'm 8 fucking days behind! Even Fatty McBoomba Seeker is able to update his blog regularly, no less from frickin' Old Europe.

This is it.... The death of The Blog has come. This passing along with drinking frequent Blueberrytinis while listening to Blue by Eiffel 65 has resulted me in entering The Blue Period of my life. This is me from now on:

R.I.P. The Blog. Your end came too soon.

3/18/07: Notre Dame

2007-03-26T03:07:00.000-07:00

Don't you wish sometimes you could have your cake and eat it too? (I still don't understand this idiom btw.) Anyhow, I figured out a way that this is possible. The best things in life have two sublime but unique sides. Take for example the famous cathedral in Paris-- Notre Dame. Notre Dame is noted for its famous facade with its cathedral towers lending themselves toward a welcome syndrome of instant recognition. But, the amazing architectural construct of flying buttri at the rear of the building still fascinate and attract constructionists and the common folk alike. The Problem: One cannot enjoy two in the same view.

I, myself, also have two exceptional sides to myself. Note my chiseled facade that adorn not too frequently these pages. Note my well-proportioned rear end that seems to attract the attention of the wanted and the unwanted alike. Well, what if you could take in both in one inclusive view? Well, due to amazing flexibility the below sight is possible:

Have your cake, eat your cake, make your cake, bake your cake... shake yo' cake, whatever. Take it all in folks, it's not everyday that you're treated to a spectacle like this. BTW, this is why I have the nickname Notre Dame... a nickname that I hope sticks because of its accurate description of who I am.

17. Allentown Billy Joel Greatest Hits Vol. 2

3/17/07: I May Look Like a Pear, but I'm Still a Jew Down There

2007-03-24T08:54:00.000-07:00

It's not everyday where we get to celebrate the heritage of a culture defined by chronic binge drinking, wife slapping and rampant racism, but today's St. Patty's Day, so live it up. I dressed up as this green nightmare as a parody of everything wrong with this despotic nation.

There I am with Krista who flew in today from San Francisco and we don't see often enough. For a more complete photo-log of the night, I direct you toward this blog.

Look at that picture of me.... I want to beat the shit out of me like all those fruity little leprechauns for whom I have a dire hatred toward. Who wants to round them up and have a leprechaun massacre... no, a leprechaun Holocaust?... Goddamn!... All this drinking and terrible music brings such repugnant xenophobia out in me. I think I could get used to it.

Yet drinking and having a green outfit on unleashes an easy conversation piece that must be exploited.

SCENE 2: I May Look Like a Pear, but I'm Still a Jew Down There

Enter NONSTOP into the Surly Wench midnight-ish on St. Patty's Day in his green leprechaun outfit. Two dykes are about to undergo re-education and be unleashed from their caged world of non-penetration.

NONSTOP: Excuse me, but may I introduce myself? My name is Nonstop and I am the Sausage Casing King of Chicago.

DYKE #1: Has your sausage gone bad? 'Cuz you've turned green and there's an incredible stench in here.

DYKES #1 and #2 giggle. NONSTOP does not lose confidence. Someone needs to put a finger in the dyke to stop the leak. That someone has arrived.

NONSTOP: You didn't hear me right ladies.... I'm the Sausage Casing King, and I plan to wrap my sausage in some intestinal casings later tonight. Would you like to see how a sausage is wrapped, because there's a first time for everything.

DYKE #2: Why the hell did you drag your leprechaun ass over here? You are a ridiculous green nightmare.

NONSTOP deduces that DYKE #2 is of the man-hating strain. No need to pay it any more attention, or refer to it as anything other than an IT. IT is keeping Dyke #1 locked in her lesbo cage. Unfortunately for IT, the Keymaster has arrived.

NONSTOP [ignoring IT]: You must be a magnet, because it looks like you are attracted to my buns of steel.

DYKE #1: Turn your white ass around. Let me perform a rectal examination. It may take a while though, because it looks like I have a lot of ground to cover.

NONSTOP appreciates a dyke with a sense of humor. The man-hating strain of dykes are devoid of such faculties.

NONSTOP [enjoying getting prodded and probed]: When you're done out back, why don't you come around front and go where no dyke has ever gone before?

IT: I am going to beat your lilly white ass back to the leprechaun stone age. [Walks off in a huff.]

NONSTOP [to DYKE #1, glad to get IT out of the way]: As Jean Luc Picard says on countless occasions in ST:TNG, 'Make it so!'

DYKE #1: What makes you think I'm going to find anything? Rumor has it leprechauns don't have dicks.

NONSTOP: I may look like a pear, but I'm still a Jew down there. [NONSTOP drops the Jew card, a sure fire winner. Without pause and smooth as butter, he removes a pen and writes his phone number on a napkin.] Call me when you want to play for the winning team. Shalom.

NONSTOP knows that DYKE #1 could use a little lovin', a little Judaism, a little Nonstop. He'll wait patiently for the guaranteed call.

And Scene!

18. Push It Garbage Version 2.0

3/16/07: I'm a Poser

2007-03-23T20:51:00.000-07:00

In preparation for my fledgling modeling career, I realize that I need to be able to pose in any situation, in any circumstance, under any inconceivable conditions. As training I have allowed myself to be put in dire and virulent conditions to force my beautiful face maintain the ability to shine through whatever terrifying circumstances; sort of like when Captain Frank Ramsey held a missile launch drill during a galley fire on the U.S.S. Alabama in one of everyone's favorite classics Crimson Tide. I think the picture below proves that I can maintain my composure in an early morning environment, unclothed, and in the bathroom!

You say that I'm naked in this picture. Well guess what: It's called art! Deal with it!

19. White Flag Dido Life for Rent

3/15/07: Infiltrating Al Qaeda

2007-03-16T02:35:00.000-07:00

Tonight, was extended to me a very gracious invitation... or so I thought.

I am not blind to the struggles our country is going through: the triad Goliaths of terrorism, the danger to our oil supply, and activist judges. I am a true American Patriot in the mold of all that is Red (Indians), White (God-fearing Americans), and Blue (terrorists after I'm through with them). In fact my favorite team is the Patriots, and my ultimate role model is Tom Brady who dumps his old hag for an obvious upgrade when she becomes too pregnant (a Hoff-like move in my opinion).

So when I was invited to a seemingly harmless dinner at Hotel Congress, I had no idea that I would be serving my country by infiltrating an Al Qaeda cell. You see, I had dinner with two Germans and a Frenchman.

'Nuf Said

Putting me in such a situation is analogous to letting a jaguar loose at a Shih Tzu show, or giving a Sept. 11th hijacker his 67 virgins. But, cooler heads prevailed, and I enjoyed my swordfish steak, which was probably poisoned (therefore my immediate stomach cleansing afterwards at the UMC), and enjoyed another beer, which I spat out undetected into Christian's belongings (likely a bomb) beside me. I have friends in high places-- a little organization that I don't want to drop here, but that starts with C and ends with A. And I'm pretty sure that they're going to be on this post like a pitbull on a poodle with all the red flag words I have used.

Mission Accomplished!

20. Mai Mai Jaia Blue Energy

3/14/07: The Sophisticates

2007-03-16T01:52:00.000-07:00

This post isn't for everyone, just those who know Ojas. So pay attention Linda.

I want to wish a happy 30th birthday to my friend Ojas. He has always been a true and steadfast friend through thick and thin, never wavering in his support, and one of the greatest supporters of my diverse sense of humor.... And that's saying a lot. His most notable accomplishment ever was crafting a T-shirt with my face on it causing a massive wave of sensationalism across the country.

Like me, he is not one to grab and bask in the spotlight. Quite the contrary as you can see in this snapshot from Kelly and Steve's Mexican wedding this January. He is the one boldly displaying himself, proud as a peacock, second from the left.

He is my most consistent IMer. He reminds me on the most frequent of bases of the days of yore when I treaded among the sophisticates of my collegiate years. I have relegated myself to the one-horse town of Tucson where the only such tokens are those friends who went to Cornell, the Affirmative Action entry into the Ivy League. The true Ivy League in my opinions includes only the Holy Trinity: my humble liberal arts college in Cambridge, that entry from the rape capital of Connecticut, and some parochial school in the malaria-infested swamps of New Jersey.

It can be a struggle IMing with this product of the system for he is a Spelling Nazi (and not a Wannabe Nazi Prison Guard like my unnamed German friend), so the corrections to our conversations can be abundant. It's as frustrating as playing marbles with a kleptomaniac. You see Ojas entered himself into the Scripp's National Spelling Bee at the meager age of 12... and finished second. I don't want to chide him on his missed word, especially now that we are senescing past the three decade mark, or in Ojas's case sonnessing. Instead I want to take this opportunity for me to raise a toast to Ojas and honor him on this blessed day.

You see this blog isn't all about me, it's about me respecting those who I care about most.

21. Hurricane Bob Dylan The Essential: Bob Dylan

3/13/07: Typical Tuesday

2007-03-15T16:15:00.000-07:00

Any day where you go drinking in the afternoon and end up with 5 hot women in your bedroom is a good day. I call it just another Tuesday.

The Story:

Happy Hour is announced at Z's at 5 pm.

We celebrate drinking and more importantly Kit's potential new hook up to illicit substances legal in The Netherlands.

Ingrid and I play rock stars in my bathroom.

Stephanie, Ingrid, Anna, Kit, and Krista (via satellite link) drink and enjoy a frolicing good time as Cigar and Bloody Mary Night moves to my bedroom. Gerry, Desika, and Alex (#3) play neutral U.N. observers.

-----

Inspired by a brilliant idea, I decided to write down a random item searched for on Google for every letter of the alphabet. Unlike some, I could fill every letter of the alphabet. But please do note, I lend my keyboard to the often sick and depraved, so some of the search items do not represent me.

artificial horse vaginas
Banana Republic condoms
Cindy Lauper greatest hits album
Droppin' Hamilton's
erections lasting longer than 30 seconods
French military victories
greatest movie of all time Starship Troopers
how to find drunkest easiest sorority girl in bar
"I love Jake Gyllenhal"
Jew pick-up lines
knight rider
lubemaster 9000
Mr. Pibb homebrew recipe
narcissistic personality inventory
Oh! face
pink boxers Banana Republic
questioning whether we landed on the moon
Ryan Seacrest
star trek the next generation best episode ever Best of Both Worlds or Yesterday's Enterprise
Tom Brady is a stud
urine green problem
virility pill
what happens when you google google?
X-ray dong bone
Yo' Momma Jokes
Zappo's shoes

22. Mysterious Times Sash! Featuring Tina Cousins Mysterious Times

3/12/07: All Germans Love Me

2007-03-14T18:06:00.000-07:00

When I went to Germany last summer, I was inundated by The Hoff. That's right, The Hasselhoff. The Hoff is a one-man phenomenon over there: Knight Rider reruns, Baywatch reruns, a highly successful music career, not to mention a little modeling on the side. I didn't want to come back to the U.S. after having such 24-hour easy access to The Hoff. It's like an all-you-can-eat buffet with unlimited lobster tails, raw oysters, and Alaskan King Crab legs.

Suffice it to say, I'm a big fan of The Hoff. Not only that, I dare say I have a resemblance to The Hoff, as Ingrid and Joe made the following near replication of all that the Hoff is, but renamed "The Boff."

I couldn't have been more honored if they gave me the Congressional Medal of Honor. But think about it, the comparisons are obvious. I would say we were seperated at birth, but for our slight age difference. All Germans I know love me as they do The Hoff (just ask around). And just like The Hoff who is a triple threat (acting, singing, & modeling), so am I.

This has got me thinking. Why am I wasting away running computer simulations all day when indeed I have the God-given ability to become a model? Look at how natural that pose I dropped that day at the J.C. Penney photo shoot is. It's like I have a lascivious relationship with the camera.... So, that's it, I'm going to start a modeling career on the side. I've got to practice my pose first, not just in the studio, but in everyday life. Check back to The Blog for updates. Boff Out.

Oh, before I go, I mentioned that I would reveal my Top 25 songs on ITunes. Well let the countdown begin. This list is in no way biased, influenced, tampered with... it's as real as it comes. Given that I have 22 posts left, I am going to reveal the bottom 3 on the list now and one a day until the very end of The Blog, when I have my very own ITunes Top 25 CD Release Party.

25. I Think I'm Paranoid Garbage Version 2.0
24. Orinoco Flow Enya Watermark
23. Uptown Girl Billy Joel Greatest Hits Vol. 2

3/11/07: A Hair Away

2007-03-13T00:31:00.000-07:00

Anyone around town will notice that I'm sporting a new look.

Check it out!

It may not necessarily be putting spinners on my teeth... but a bangin' haircut's the next best thing. My stylist Maria performed her usual proverbial backflips and cartwheels with her scissors and trimmer in transforming a mat on top of my head from an anarchist riot at a WTO meeting to the calm and collected appearance of a board meeting on Wall Street. But finding a stylist like Maria at Costcutters is not like shopping for ground beef at the local Safeway, it takes patience and trials and tribulations. It's like a full time job finding a new stylist. Let me tell you the story.

When I first came back to Tucson, I frequented the JC Penney Salon, and instantly fell in love with my gregarious stylist Marc. I went with him for over a year and even introduced him to my mom. She approved!

But then the Great Hair Catastrophe of 2004. Such disasters are so hard to relive, but for your education I will retell. One day my stylist [let's not name names here, but it is in the previous paragraph] got carried away in our vigorous discussion, so much so that he forgot to leave my hair length I wanted it. The hackneyed look of one side obviously shorter than the other was a disaster to any social life I wanted to attain. It was so asymmetric that one side was skinhead and the other side was a 'fro. There was a race riot happening on top of my head!

Enough was enough, and I had to break up. It was the most traumatic break up ever for me (or a close 2nd to something that happened in 2005, but never mind that). My rebound was to prostitute myself about town every month, not knowing what kind of diseased look would be resultant. That all came to an end when I met Maria, and now my life and my hair has achieved that Zen-like balance of the ultimate meditative state.

The moral of the story my students: Never give up looking for someone better.

Follow up from yesterday's post: I called JAP #1 that very night... turns out I wrote down her number wrong. I can do better!

3/10/07: A Box-Blockin' Night

2007-03-11T21:16:00.000-07:00

All this time on the blog... and I haven't demonstrated my skillz with the ladiez yet. Well, I will withhold suspense no long for I've got a swingin' story to tell. Before I go out, I had to put on my game face.

Why so blurry?... Same reason you don't look directly into the sun... too dangerous!

For this story, let's adjust to a neutral third person observer and put it into a form of a script so that others may practice.

SCENE I: A BOX-BLOCKIN' NIGHT

Enter NONSTOP and his entourage into Che's Lounge round about 11 pm on a Saturday night. Two JAP* gazelles are in the corner waiting for their Prince Charming. Little do they know their wait is over.

NONSTOP: [to entourage] Welcome to Smoothness 101. Class is in session.

NONSTOP takes a moment to pump fists and bang head to imaginary rock music to get "in the mode." Approaches JAP #1.

NONSTOP: [to JAP #1, the hotter of the 2] Screw me if I'm wrong, but is your name Shaniqua?

JAP #1: [taken aback] No... but close, I'm Hedessa.... Let me guess your name.... Ummm... Tyrone?

Introduction is smooth as butter. JAP #1's game, JAP #2's wants to join party. Entourage intently taking mental notes.

NONSTOP: They call me Non-stop, but for you ma' lady... you can call me O-P-P, 'cuz you know me... or you will. fo' sizzle.... Speakin' of sizzle, is somethin' grillin' in here on yo' George Fo'-man grill, because it's smokin' hot! [subtlety is made obvious]

JAP #2: [all too eager to join] Is this how you speak to women?

NONSTOP: [keepin' up the inner city tongue that's so workin'] Not all of them... just the one's I'm willin' to buy some drinks fo'.

NONSTOP orders 3 PBR's. PBR's cost one dollar, the cheapest drink at Che's. NONSTOP realizes this and knows it will work because it will connect us on the Jewish level by showing that we are all cheap. NONSTOP knows to flaunt the Judaizm around the ladeez.

JAP #2: [obviously now doing the female equivalent of cock-blocking to get attention, or should I call it box-blockin'] 'Cuz you got a style seen so rarely in these parts? It's a shame... a damn shame sometimes.

NONSTOP acknowledges the obvious compliment and segues into a discussion of what he does and flaunts the theoretical astrophysicz and his connectionz in Hollywood. JAP #1 jibber jabbers about something she does, JAP #2 jibber jabbers all the hell too much. NONSTOP smoothness is apparent when he buys JAP #2 another PBR to muzzle her.

JAP #1: [overwhelmed] You know you got nice hands... you should be a hand model.

[JAP #1 and #2 giggle sororallistically together.]

NONSTOP: [not blind to the obvious transition permitted to him] You like these digits ladeez... 'cuz I got 10 of them... but I could use 7 more. [NONSTOP lookin' intently at JAP #1]

JAP #1: I gots' yo' digits right here. 8-6-7-X**-3-0-9.

NONSTOP: [snappin' open his Samsung A-900 Blade like a natural jots down the obvious conquest] I'll call yo' hizzle in a bizzle. Ladies, good night. Fo' sizzle.

NONSTOP says good-byes, walks away, bows to entourage, and leaves knowing that it was a night out.

And Scene!

The plan now is to do like Swingers and call JAP #1 in six days.

* Jewish American Princess
** To save the anonymity of JAP #1, I didn't want to give out her whole number on The Blog. Sure you could try to call her and you have a one in ten chance of gettin' her, but how pathetic would that be?

3/9/07: Good Bye Dear Friend... Good Bye

2007-03-11T15:31:00.000-07:00

Throughout all my blog postings I have been so selfish.... I forgot to show a picture of my longest and dearest friend Mike. He is the world to me, so without further ado... here he is in this portrait from four years ago.

Although hard to believe, I was once exhibit the juvenile behavior of a pre-pubesant adolescent with that crackling high-pitched voice, those patented spectacles held together by tape, and that 30-pound backpack brimming with textbooks attached to my 60-pound frame as I did not believe in using my book locker. Mike was in lockstep with me throughout our years in Fay School... socially, athletically, academically.... Well, actually not academically, because he finished such an embarrassingly distant second to me in the 9th grade race for Fay School Valedictorian. The best analogy I would say is that I was Secretariat at the 1973 Belmont Stakes. In fact in that legendary day I also won the Science Award and the Joplin Thoughtfulness Award for what I like to term as "The Trifecta." Those charitable hearts gave Mike some consolation prize so that he'd feel good about himself: the Founder's Medal. This was some prize they concocted for the best all-around student or something like that.

I have been friends with Mike ever since my mom demanded me to ask him out to see a movie in the last trimester of 9th grade. I also asked Brad to a movie, but he initially refused and was forced to attend a showing of 'Radio Flyer' with our chaperone Beth. I can't make stuff like this up.

On our way back to Arizona, we stopped at the outlet malls of Cabazon where Beth concocted the false bit of intelligence by allegedly reporting the existence of a BR outlet store. My interest perked immediately! A Banana Republic in an outlet mall is like eating the finest caviar in a McDonald's... at McDonald's prices. Alas, there was no such thing... it was too good to be true. I had to suffice with some undies from The Gap (problem solved) and a nice cleanup at Calvin Klein.

After a short stop at a Palm Spring's resort spa/casino, Mike and I grooved to the rhythms of "The Bridge" by Ace of Base, which seamlessly transitioned to "Hits" by Phil Collins. Such soothing melodies in the sunset-lit Mohave simultaneously transported us to the early 90's as well as The Valley of the Sun. Good bye Mike and good luck. I'll see you out here in another seven years.

3/8/07: Bingo!

2007-03-10T16:35:00.000-08:00

A short drive down Laurel Canyon plants you in West Hollywood, our destination for this evening. West Hollywood has everything a swingin' single guy like me would ever need: trendy clothing boutiques, exclusive interior design shops, coffee shops with patrons dressed fabulously... everything! There were so many well-dressed, prefectly manicured women... no wonder they call it "Boys' Town." If I had more time, I would have gone to the Banana Republic to make some purchases and bring the West Hollywood style back to Tucson. Alas, there will always be another trip.

We went to Hamburger Mary's for Celebrity Bingo. Twice a week, they invite a famous celebrity to read off the numbers as you race to win prizes and drink that next Appletini. That night they had Mel Tormé's son, but he had to leave before our round of Bingo began. My luck wasn't with me as I failed to win, but thank goodness because some of the prizes were bags full of lube and a bunch of movies mostly about guys. Both Mike and Greg won at Bingo, which resulted in Mike and I groovin' to the latest Shakira CD on the way home, so not all was lost. But... I'd say the Big Winner of the night was ME as can be attested to by the below picture of my designer "technicolor dreamcoat" being disrobed.

I don't know of a better use for the word "Bingo" than in reference to this pictures. That's the host, Bel Aire.... She was superbly fabulous and I'm going to go back again and again and again. Thank you Bel Aire... Thank You Hamburger Mary's... Thank You West Hollywood.... You're all so... what's that word I learned?... ah yes, scrumpable!

3/7/07: Hollywood 'Hana

2007-03-10T00:37:00.000-08:00

For those of you who may not know, I have a nickname in certain circles. Dave Wyner, Mike's legendary dad, extrapolated the name Benihana for me from the famous Japanese sushi restaurant chain. Usually, he would then demand sushi from me in his best impression of an East Asian accent. The nickname became shortened to 'Hana and now that I'm in Hollywood the alliteration is complete. Those who know me best say this nickname is spot on.

L.A.'s my kind of town. From West Hollywood to Brentwood across to Bel Aire, back to the B. Hills, and up to this perched view over the Valley from Studio City, every part of L.A. was seemingly built with me in mind.

That's right... you guessed it... that's me with the famous actor George Wyner. I don't like to flaunt all of my celebrity connections. Such hackneyed self-promotion is for the peons living in The Valley below. Nevertheless, Colonel Sanders from Spaceballs, Fletch's wife's divorce lawyer from Fletch, the doctor who sexually harasses Betty White in the Golden Girls-- George Wyner does it all. They call him the "Tuning Fork of Hollywood" for he sets the tone.

Today I went to visit my dad in Laguna Beach.... I forgot to take a picture of him.

3/6/07: Without My Underwear

2007-03-07T20:16:00.001-08:00

Calm down... really, calm down my friends. The above title is not really as exciting as it sounds. But the story is still slammin'....

The fresh mountain air blew from my panoramic window leading to a gentle awakening. On the way down to the breakfast table, the caldron's breath of Beth exclaimed horror and disgust at the site of me in my boxers. Her acting job of covering her first reaction of awe was nearly convincing. Little did she know how unique that pair of boxers really was....

I usually do an immaculate job of packing, and this time was nearly no different. My packing inventory for a 5 day, 4 night excursion:

-3 Banana Republic T's
-5 pairs of shoes
-my $78 BR jeans
-a 24-pack of condoms
-0 pairs of boxers!

That's right, my new dresser designed by my personal carpenter Hector threw me for a loop, because now I have a seperate boxer drawer causing a physical and mental disconnect in my packing transition from socks to underwear. I do not like to blame Hector for adding an unexpected drawer in my dresser, especially since I specifically designed it that way, but have I ever forgotten to pack my boxers before? Anyhow, I did not want Beth to find out, because her reaction would have been a near carbon copy of Chris Farley's reaction to a Folger's taste test in this classic SNL clip.

The meandering hike through a snow-drenched pine forest made our final destination of Suicide Peak all the more worthwhile. The picture below speaks for itself of the beauty seen on the hike.

Once back to the cabin, the babboon-like harangues continued. Beth said that I need Jessica Simpson's Proactive line for my "acne-covered skin." Mike of course defended me sayin the truth-- I have "great skin!"

The day was closed by the following surreal comment-- "That might be the best beer I've ever had." --Greg in response to drinking Tequiza.

3/5/07: Off to Idyllwild

2007-03-06T10:15:00.000-08:00

Today Mike and I embarked on our trip to Idyllwild, CA to meet Beth (Brad’s older sister) and her husband Greg. After a very nice tour of Carl & Aggie’s house, we hit TIA to finally procure Mike’s long-lost baggage and then drove non-stop, minus an obligatory stop-off at a Phoenix-area In-N-Out Burger, to our cabin in the San Bernadino National Forest. Mike and I kept entertained by singing out loud to the track of Mama Mia, the Abba-inspired Tony Award-nominee musical we first saw together in Boston. I believe Mike took the below picture during ‘Dancing Queen’.

The cabin was nearly up to my standards: 2 bedrooms, 3 baths, 2 porches, 1 balcony, 1 sauna, 1 jacuzzi, 1 wood-burning stove, 1 dishwasher (Greg), and 1 foul-mouthed misanthrope (Beth). The idyllic mile-high forest wonderland was interrupted by a constant stream of piercing screeches in my direction emanating from Beth’s gaping orifice. In defense of myself and humanity, I continuously wrote down in my paper journal the following notes to catalogue each verbal hate crime. Here is an electronic version of my paper journal:

-Beth chastised me for spilling Triscuits on the floor and then blamed me for her spilling of Triscuits on the floor. She referred to me as a disciple of my drunk-ass mother.
-Beth suggested I need psychological help… immediately.
-Beth said she is ready to kick me out of the cabin after less than 20 minutes in the cabin.
-Beth said that, “I was about ready to be put out on a stoop” and wanted to “kick my ass back to Tucson.”
-All I have to say about Ben is… “Rain Main”… [Beth egregiously wrote this in my very own journal]
-Beth thinking I am out of earshot said, “Ben is good in small doses… but even then.... I can’t imagine 24 hours with him."
-Beth referenced that her foot might end up in my face.
-Beth saw that I was tired and emaciated after a dinner at a fine gourmet restaurant ruined by Beth’s crude behavior and allusions. Then thinking I am out of earshot in the bathroom, she wondered out loud how I was going to “drag my huge ass up the mountain” tomorrow.
-Beth said that I liked a little junk in the trunk.

As I said, I take no bull-shizzle. Beth sure could dole out the insults, but could she take it too? I executed a verbal gymnastic ten with the following rip on Beth: Beth wonders whether she should get both the Crème Brule and the chocolate mousse for desert. I chime in saying one dessert was for each buttocks and then imply her ass will not only be even huger, but also mulatto…. That shut her up real good… ‘fo sizzle, bizzle!

3/4/07: The Announcement

2007-03-05T09:13:00.000-08:00

I have been waiting for this day for a long time... the day that the public would finally become privy to the final construct of months of brilliant ideas continuously roiling throughout my brain just like bubbles rising in seltzer water. I decided to announce a barbeque in honor of this occasion and invite everyone I know. The attendants came from far and wide representing a diversity of cultures: Carl & Aggie from across the street, Romeel from The Foothills, Brandon from South Central Tucson, and don't forget Dave 'Straight Out of Torrence' Sand. My best friend from home, Mike Wyner from Southboro, MA, also made it out for the announcement. He hasn't seen me in Tucson in seven years! It was good to see my oldest and closest friend, but unfortunately I forgot to take a picture of him. You'll just have to do with the one of me below.

I stood over my subjects like Sonny, the final robotic concoction of Dr. Alfred Lanning, in that never forgettable final climatic scene of 'I Robot'. Attention was at first hard to obtain, but a loud clink of some silverware against an unfinished Pinot from TJ's did the job. And then with a quote I made the announcement:

"What [I am about to do] is going to be puzzled over and studied and followed... forever," Kevin Spacey, Se7en. I am embarking upon a blog unlike no other. For one month I will take a picture from my life and expound upon it on a daily basis, so that I can share my knowledge with the world as well as those I hold most dearest to my heart.
-Ben Oppenheimer, 2007

With those eloquent words spoken, the party was off with a bang. The L.A. soundtrack I made for my trip with Mike to the City of Angels started playing in the background with a broad range of eclecticism ranging from the Goo Goo Dolls, to N.W.A., to Missing Persons, back to N.W.A., with a little bit of Tupac mixed in for good measure. Suffice it to say the vibe was on. Later in the night, Luke was flabbergasted by my incredible collection of songs in my iTunes Top 25. What are they? Well my friends, I must keep you in suspense.... But it just so happens that I might make a special mix CD so that all of you can experience 'Non-Stop's Top 25' too. When will this CD come out?... Find out here... on The Blog.