Category: Life

Just like last year, I thought I would briefly share some of the highlights of the past year with a post chock full of links to some of my past features. Consider it the Internet’s method of re-gifting. Enjoy!

• The first big event of 2005 (February 2nd, to be exact) was the celebration of the one-year anniversary of Internet Zillionaire. We proudly toasted this moment, as our website was surprisingly able to survive past the average lifespan of a housefly or goldfish. And we’re still going! Some people may not measure their website’s success against the lifespan of simple organisms, but we do. In a few months, we’ll be surpassing the field mouse threshold, and that’s when the champagne corks will really fly.
• I spent most of the spring meticulously documenting my thoughts on remote controls. I wrote three massive posts on this topic, and still haven’t beaten the subject to death to my satisfaction. Apparently, I somehow morphed into George Lucas while writing these. At this point, I don’t know where it will end. There could be some prequels to my trilogy of remote control posts. I might interject Jar Jar Binks into a post about my VCR remote. Frankly, anything is possible.
• While we’re on the topic, May brought the final installment of the Star Wars movies, meaning millions of nerds across the galaxy suddenly had a little less to live for. Of course, that doesn’t mean we can’t still debate the nuances of the trilogies to the annoyance and boredom of those around us.

  One final note on Episode III: I think Anakin Skywalker re-defined the expression “being left for dead.” When you sever all the arms and legs off your enemy, and leave his writhing torso engulfed in flames on a remote part of a planet made of lava…well that, my friends, is leaving someone for dead. Of course, we all know how that worked out. But the point is, no longer will I settle for merely running over someone with my truck and passing that off as “leaving them for dead.” The bar has been raised considerably.

• In June, my wife and I celebrated our one-year wedding anniversary. I’ll use this opportunity to thank her for being so supportive of my writing, because without her, I would be severely hurting for material. I’m truly lucky to have a wife that doesn’t mind being the subject of a post comparing marriage to joining a monastery. And yes, these glowing compliments are a desperate attempt to score an Xbox 360 from her for Christmas.
• My wife and I did some traveling over the summer, here are a few highlights:

  Boston: We toured the whole city, but I particularly enjoyed visiting Harvard and MIT, which really put into perspective what a real college is all about. I must say, it was refreshing just to stroll through a campus where half the students weren’t majoring in “Leisure Services” (apologies to Krusty.) And in some random polling I conducted, students actually knew where the “library” was, without me having to elaborate by referring to it as the “big building with lots of books.”

  Superior, Montana: As the name suggests, this town is much better than its sister city, Inferior, Montana. We stayed in Superior as part of an annual river-rafting trip. Montana is the last great frontier, a place where you can drive without speed limits or seatbelts and unabashedly drink from an open container. They even have drive-thru windows that serve alcohol. You don’t even have to get out of your car for a beer! In other words, the entire state is like a reckless driving fantasy camp.

  Now, compare that to my drive back to Washington. Suddenly, I have to keep it under 70, and wear a seatbelt, and get rid of my open beer. And the strongest beverage I can get via drive-thru is espresso. Needless to say, the state flower in Washington is the pansy.

  Las Vegas: Truthfully, Las Vegas was our third choice. After Hurricane-Fest 2005 destroyed our attempts at a Caribbean cruise, we opted for Vegas. The highlight of the trip: My wife and I attended a topless variety show together at the Sahara. We both thought the show was excellent, but for different reasons.

• September brought news of a fetus in my wife’s oven. Naturally, an event like this inspired a series of posts, ranging from an innuendo-laced account of how the child was conceived to my fatherhood anxiety . I’m still coping with all of this, but as long as I don’t end up wearing a fake man-breast like Robert DeNiro in “Meet the Fockers,” I’ll be alright.
• On November 10th, we officially joined the 9Rules network. This was nice recognition for Internet Zillionaire, as 9Rules prides itself on only featuring quality sites. Clearly, our inclusion in the network is jeopardizing that legacy.
• Finally, I thought I would share something of interest pertaining to Internet Zillionaire. If you’re curious what our top post for the year was (in terms of hits), click here.

  The sad thing is, it’s not even a horse race. That’s our most widely read post by far.
  The Captive Lion summed it up perfectly: “The Internet is so lowbrow.”

As you can see it’s been quite a year. And the year will conclude the same as last year, with dozens of Zillionaires descending on my mansion to toast the New Year and each other. For those that I won’t see this holiday season, I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year…

Thanksgiving is a day that is spent sitting around, watching TV, drinking and gorging oneself to the point of exhaustion. In other words, it is the perfect holiday.

Of course, you can’t just roll out of bed and expect to conquer a day like Thanksgiving. It requires intense preparation. Don’t worry, it’s not about doing one-armed push-ups or sprinting on the beach, or any other feats of strength typically associated with a training montage. For Thanksgiving, there is an inverse training regimen. For instance, you must seize the day by sleeping in. Also, if you were unfortunate enough to have had to work on Thanksgiving Eve, as I was, it’s good to start the morning with a soak in the hot tub to alleviate the “I hate my job” stress residue before starting the day.

This was exactly how my Thanksgiving began. Next, I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast while perusing the ads in the paper. As I mentioned before, I had to work the previous day… so I decided to make the most of my time at the office. Not by actually working, of course, but by spending the day preparing my Christmas list.

Granted, my Christmas list has been a work in progress since July. With the Christmas shopping season kicking off in 24 hours, the Thanksgiving Day ads provided an opportunity to make any last-minute, final touches to my Christmas list before distribution. After all, this isn’t like a tax return… this is the kind of document that warrants careful scrutiny. For instance, what if I failed to specify that I want an additional wirelesscontroller for my Xbox 360? Think about the letdown if I were to unwrap my gifts to find a wired controller. I might have to hang myself with it.

Of course, it’s hard to work on something this important with the distraction of a parade going on in my living room. I’m going on the record here: I don’t see any entertainment value in watching a parade on TV. There isn’t a single aspect that holds my interest for even a second. A giant, inflatable Garfield balloon? A marching band dressed like nutcrackers? And it’s all hosted by Al Roker and Katie Couric? They say that Thanksgiving is a day to remember what we are truly thankful for. In this instance, I’m thankful to have a remote control and 65 other channels.

Unfortunately, I was being summoned to the kitchen. The turkey needed to be cleaned (de-entrailed) before going in the oven. After completing the task, I wanted to throw the entrails and neck into the front yard, figuring the coyotes or Gypsies I see in our neighborhood deserve to have a nice Thanksgiving meal as well. As expected, my wife refused my charitable idea. She simply doesn’t understand the meaning of the holidays.

She called me into the kitchen a few more times throughout the day, whenever the turkey needed to be basted or inspected. As the day wore on, I’d stumble into the kitchen a little drunker than the time before. And each time, my wife was increasingly worried that it would be this time that I’d drop the turkey on the floor or find some other way to ruin the meal. She knew she was tempting fate. I was handling the bird way too much. Strictly by the law of averages, eventually, I’d lose my wedding ring or a Band-Aid in the carcass. It got to the point that she wouldn’t even let me open the can of cranberry sauce, which is typically my lone contribution to the meal.

It was finally mealtime. It was my wife’s first ever attempt at cooking an entire Thanksgiving meal, and she did a fantastic job. Everything turned out great, even the broccoli casserole, which I had my doubts about.

The evening concluded with the flick of a switch. My Christmas lights were on. Of course, they’ve been up on my house for three weeks, but I wasn’t officially allowed to turn them on until after dinner and dessert. And that switch not only signaled the beginning of the Christmas season, but also, and perhaps more importantly, the issuance of a challenge to my neighbors to come up with a more garish way to demonstrate their holiday spirit. Game on.

It’s late. I’m in a damn good mood. Got me some new jeans that are a lot better fitting than my old ones. Hell yeah. It doesn’t even bother me that it takes ten full minutes to unravel my ipod headphones after I fish them out of my jacket pocket.

Alright, I’m lying. That always bothers me.

The fact that I never put my headphones away properly is beside the point. It’s one of the lessons of life that I have chosen to always break – just because I’m a moron. But tonight, in this fantastic universe called New York, the moron in me is feeling like he’s not such a moron after all.

Yup, I’m slightly drunk.

So I’m bobbing my head, listening to my ipod while I strut my way on to the L Train to Brooklyn. Like I said, it’s late. Too bad, I think, because now there aren’t many people to notice how cool I’ve gotten all of a sudden. In fact, there’s just two other dudes and they both are listening to their headphones too. Fuck them, I say to myself in my best pretend bad-ass internal voice.

My staged animosity quickly dissolves however. Dude on my left, an obvious hip hop cat with a big expensive jacket on, Yankees cap, relaxes back in his seat and starts getting into his music. I mean.. getting into it. He starts spitting silent lyrics like a cross between KRS-One and Helen Keller. It’s almost as if he thinks he is alone. Then I remember that in New York City only seeing two other human beings at the moment is basically the same as being alone.

The mood turns infectious. Dude sitting across from me, scrawny, 30ish, rock and roller drunk on his own kool-aid as well, feels the vibe. In a split second, he’s set up an imaginary set of drums in front of him and he’s using every bit of it. He’s on the cymbals, on the kick drum, the snare, and about five other things I don’t even know what they are. I’m more than halfway expecting him to fake spinning the drum sticks in his fingers. If you can’t tell, I’m ecstatic at this point, utterly entertained as this imaginary rock-rap concert unfolds before my eyes. It’s like I’m seeing Run-DMC and Aerosmith mime “Walk This Way” live. Unreal!

And just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, dude across the way effortlessly moves from a hard rocking session of knee drums to finger plucking what looks to be a heavy, low slung 8 string guitar… with, what’s that called… a whammy bar? I kid you not. I didn’t even know they made those.

If you could see the smile on my face right now, you would know why they call it a shit-eating grin. Note to my dentist: Don’t sweat it, I’ll floss extra tonight.

What has got me more excited than a chimpanzee in make-up, you ask? It’s only the newest innovation in weblogs… the theme song! Internet Zillionaire is now the first website to have it’s own official theme music. After all, it is the next logical step in the evolution of theme songs.

So if you thought we were just a bunch of talentless hacks before, prepare to be proven right. I give you the Internet Zillionaire theme music:

Did I just hear someone say they wish they could have those 14 seconds back?

My wife and I intend to be responsible parents, so we decided to get some life insurance to make sure our fetus will be provided for in the event I die in a tragic Whirlyball-related accident (currently the #1 cause of death for Zillionaires.) This was a reluctant decision on my part, and not just because my wife and the fetus would soon have a vested financial interest in my death. I was hesitant because the insurance company required my wife and I to undergo a blood test before our coverage would begin.

Now, for the record, I hate needles. This is the main reason I didn’t opt for a paternity test when I found out my wife is pregnant. I decided that even if the child bears no resemblance to me, or is of another ethnicity, or has a weak mastery of the Force… I’ll choose to delude myself into thinking the kid is mine simply to avoid facing a needle.

Concerned Friend: “Dude, your kid doesn’t look anything like you…”
Me: (awkward laughing) “Ha ha… That means he has a chance in life…”
Concerned Friend: “Ok man, whatever you say.”

Understand though, this has nothing to do with the bleeding involved. Hell, I bleed all the time. Instead of using the needle, I pleaded with the nurse giving the test to let me tinker in the garage for five minutes, as invariably I’d come back bleeding from somewhere.

But she insisted on the needle. After seeing her tools, it became clear. First off, why is it that nurses and dentists feel compelled to set out all of their pain-inducing instruments in plain sight? Is the whole process not unpleasant enough that it needs an element of psychological torture to it? The worst part is that it’s simply impossible to focus your attention on anything but the sharp and shiny tools in front of you. The nurse could have been showing spectacular cleavage and I wouldn’t have noticed… that’s how bad it was.

I was transfixed on the needle, as I realized the device was really more of a spigot. The “needle” actually had a little valve on it so the nurse can shut off your profuse bleeding while she changes vials.

That’s right: Vials. Plural. It’s like she’s doing her winter canning or something. I was going to be tapped like a keg.

Sure enough, she pulled out a heroin-user strip of rubber. She tied it tightly on my arm, causing my veins to bulge out prominently. I couldn’t take it. I asked the nurse to give me some nitrous oxide to knock me out. I pleaded with her to prick me in a less-sensitive area… I suggested my ass, like they do for shots. She didn’t budge.

And then she injected me. My eyes were closed, but I could feel the blood flowing out of my arm. Why do needles have to be so sharp and pointy? Honestly, I’d rather have blood drawn with a switchblade. At least then all my whimpering and theatrics would be justified.

It was over two minutes later. Apparently, she was able to top off a few milk jugs with my blood in that time. My arm felt weak, but the nurse refused to put my arm in a sling. Like my wife, she had no sympathy for me.

So there will be no flu shots for me this winter, or any winter for that matter. And I’ll pass on donating blood too. And, I don’t see how anyone can be an intravenous drug user. The same goes for diabetics. If I was put in the position of having to give myself a shot of insulin, or die… I’d be pretty indifferent. Both are about equally undesirable in my book. It would probably come down to a coin flip.