National Egg Nog Day

A lot of talk is given to the true meaning of Christmas
And I wouldn't blame a single person if they were to miss this
A day like Rodney Dangerfield doesn't get respect
I'd like to share with all of you my seasonal regret

While everyone is talking 'bout the birth of Baby Jesus
Or fighting crowds for Christmas gifts to be given between us
I want to call attention to a day that most ignore
Today is National Egg Nog Day December 24

I've you're looking to unwind
With an alternative to wine
Have some egg nog

If you need some Christmas cheer
Don't go reaching for a beer
Have some egg nog

If you want to feel dandy
You can spike your nog with brandy
Have some egg nog

If you need something to chase
Away that fruitcake taste
Have some egg nog

If you want to gain a pound
Just have another round
Have more egg nog

If your friends sneer and say eww
Then there'll be more nog for you
Have more egg nog

I know many won't agree
So there'll be more nog for me
I love egg nog

Check This

If memory serves me correctly, my last blog regarding the grocery store was in reference to the shirtless shopper.  The last topic was amusing.  This one is most annoying.  As much as I hate waiting behind lazy drivers at stop lights, I really cannot stand waiting behind check-writers in the grocery store.  It's not even about the checks.  It's about the complete disregard for those behind them.  Too many times people are chatting, sorting through either coupons or food stamps, and only once their groceries are totaled to they start writing the check.  By the time the total is ready, the check should have the payee written and the check should be signed.  Only the payment amount should remain.

The express lane, which does not accept checks, is a slight concession to those craving efficiency.  I would propose one step further.  I would propose a check and coupon line.  I understand that people can save money by clipping coupons, but let me play devil's advocate.  People in advertising might disagree with me, but coupons and gym memberships are similar.  Gyms sell memberships, but only a percentage of members actually go.  Coupons printed and mailed in mass quantities, but how many people clip, and how many throw them away?  For that matter, how many people are up in arms because of plastic bottles, but don't blink an eye about junk mail and coupon mailers.  These are not my battles, as plenty of people have drawn attention to the ecological reasons for going paperless.  I just want people to stop writing damned checks in the check-out line.  Checks are for mailing.  And seriously, who doesn't have an ATM card by now?

Good vs. Evil

Tonight, Iron Chef America is showing a repeat from November 2006. I remember this day very well. Three chefs. One non-chef. From the outset, I was torn. My three favorite television chef's were on one show. Two would be paired together. One would have to fall on the grenade that was Rachel Ray. This undesirable task fell upon Mario Batali. On the other side were my favorites, Bobby Flay and Giada de Laurentiis. When the smoke had cleared, Rachel Ray had ridden on Batali's coattails to an upset victory, and it upset me, as well.

I have been unable to let go of this for over two years. No disrespect to Mario Batali, but Rachel Ray represents everything that is soulless and wrong. Giada represents everything that is wholesome and pure. I must take this opportunity to blow off some steam.

As we are two days away from Ray's throat surgery (likely her own body's revolt against her unpleasant voice), I can think of no better time to speak my mind. Watching her on television, it is like she is daring you to despise her. Made up acronyms such as EVOO, saying yum-o, and all of her other peculiar phrases drive me crazy. Ray admits that she is grossly unqualified for what she does, yet shamelessly self-promotes herself alongside experts. Hey Rachel, I'm an internet-ordained minister, but you don't see me placing myself alongside pastors and priests. How can you seriously expect people to take you seriously when you state that you can't even make coffee?

Thankfully, for Ray's yin, we have de Laurentiis' yang. Newton's third law states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, thus we are given an angel--Giada de Laurentiis. Giada's passion for food and life are obvious when you watch her. She does not try to force herself on you, but rather invites you into her kitchen, if you are so inclined. I, for one, am so inclined. She is an innocent seductress, the girl next door, if the girl next door could be a super model. I've tried a few dishes from her show, but sometimes I still feel like she is looking at me through the camera, saying, "I know you're not watching for the food, but that's okay. I understand. Maybe you'll like the next dish." She is an angel, sent to bring joy to the world.

In the end, it is clear that we need both of them. We need Rachel Ray so we appreciate Giada. There is no debate. Don't be deceived by thirty minute meals that take an hour. To quote Judge Smails from Caddyshack, "There are two forces in the world--Goodness and Badness. You need to decide which you want to be. Do you want to be good?" Choose Giada de Laurentiis.

My Golf Game is Like Art

If you've golfed with me you're probably starting to object, but read on.  I've rarely strung together enough good shots to have a really low score.  I'll follow a birdie with a triple bogie.  When you take close to one hundred shots, you're bound to have a few good ones.  Strangers I've played with have made the mistake of complimenting my swing before I strike the ball.  This is their mistake, as the percentages say that the real thing will not live up to the beauty of my practice swing.  But I've hit amazing shots.  Three hundred yard drives with a slight, yet planned draw to set up a short chip for birdie.  Most of the times I try to replicate this beauty it turns into a snap-hook into a hazard.  Such is the fate of the twice-yearly golfer.  But the one or two beauties are enough to keep my clubs off the lake bottom.  Enough to make me, in some cruel self-punishment, believe that there lies within me some speck of talent, and return for another three-digit day.

Art Galleries are similar.  Whenever I go, I inevitably find a few pieces I like.  Some would lead you to believe that art galleries are full of great work, but I say that most galleries are like my golf game.  There are usually a few real winners sprinkled throughout a slew of slices and worm-burners.  The best part of the Guggenheim in Bilbao was the building.  I was bored inside.  Too many dreary Russian portraits.  I like Hopper, Miro, Picasso, Dali, Chagall, and van Gogh's olive trees.  I can't tell you what I like about any of them.  It doesn't matter.  There are usually just enough to keep me coming back.  

So my golf game is like art--because a lot of art sucks, too.