Marchmellow

March has maybe been a little less than mellow, but at the risk of telling actual details of my real life, let's just say that I haven't been overly diligent about finding time to blog. Very few people's loss. I have heard it said that it is better to have blogged and blogged shittily than never to have blogged at all but clearly that is a made up statement and it isn't true because I don't want to read shit and I certainly don't want to write shit, despite what may develop at times.

That's when you order coffee at 9pm and listen to The Immigrant Song on repeat. Why are there even dislikes on that video? I don't understand my fellow Americans sometimes. It's also intriguing due to the very anonymous and simple clicking of a button, defining oneself while really not and doing so easily. Not that defining oneself should be such a conscious effort. It'd be great to just be. Like I wasn't just trying to be anything other than a guy who runs a lot and gets sweaty. Warm enough weather has hit the city of Chicago and I found myself on a jaunt in shorts sans shirt. I thought about it, thought maybe I should wear a shirt. But the usual came to my head: 1) I sweat a lot; 2) I hate doing laundry; 3) who gives an eff-bomb (I try not to be too profane on the old blog here)? I wonder how many dislikes I would have received if people could click as I ran by. The future!


As usual I'm getting really bad at recognizing people, by which I mean that I recognize people I don't even know, but simply have seen a lot. No sense enumerating because I don't want to add another layer to the weirdness pointing out who they are and it somehow coming back to blog me in the ass...paranoia much?

Well, here's hoping we're done being the land of the ice and the snow, even (especially?) when those refer to meth and coke respectively. Running is my drug. And caffeine. And sugar. And booze. There are more things on this list. My body is a temple, and I worship a little differently than some might. That's enough out of me.

Matzoh Do About Nothing

Passover kicked off Wednesday night and while I've been seder-free since college, last year's reprisal made it a little odd not to have one this year. My family never did the long and involved "official" seder, but still had the plate and the accoutrements. Actually, "accoutrements" is inaccurate as apparently that pertains only to additional items worn by soldiers, but initially I was thinking I'd heard it used in other situations. I mean, the word is meant to be used in only very precise situations it appears, which is why the English language can be pretty silly sometimes; that, and it can also be spelled "accouterments." Why have two very similar spellings for the same sparingly used word? Is it meant to make things harder or easier on dyslexics perhaps? Don't know. Just another sign it's time for me to learn a new language.

Also, not sure if a certain jazz or pop has been missing in my more recent posts, but it gets that feeling sometimes since my mind has been preoccupied a bit of late. But that is neither here nor there and is the typical blogger's remorse that periodically rears its ugly head. That's the thing, no matter what, it's still a personal blog, so no matter what ends up dropping down, it's me.

Right so last year I thought I'd covered a lot of my beef with the commercialization of Passover and the establishment of a whole new "Kosher for Passover" industry in the past few years, probably even decades. I did a quick look back and could not find said post, but I know it's got to be there somewhere because, in particular, I know I have discussed the virtue of Kosher for Passover Coke over traditional market Coke, that being the use of cane sugar versus high fructose corn syrup. So it's no wonder that, as USA Today just reported, KFP Coke is selling like hotcakes to Jews and Goys alike. I'm also quickly realizing that a lot of my KFP rant might just have been delivered in the non-cyber world and that it's so ingrained (which I was going to type as engrained as, again, both are permissible...seriously English language, seriously) in my brain that I think I've written it down.

So let me tell you about something that I don't think is Kosher for Passover, and that is some of the clothing being worn by the teenage female Jewish population in my neighborhood. I already made note of this in an email to a couple of friends, so I'll hope they're not reading because I hate repeating myself, but this can go ahead and be a brief anecdote I will lie and say is worth hearing twice.

So there I am (and, incidentally, I say "so" a lot) walking back to my house after toiling in retail sales. Now it was a beautiful day. I never see people out in my neighborhood but couple the weather with it being a Jewish holiday and we are talking vampires smelling blood. Quickly I come upon two Jewesses, one in conservative early Spring attire and a pair of flats, the other wearing this sexy spring dress and black hooker boots (2-3 inches below back of knee). It was making her hips sway. I can't imagine she was much older than 16, certainly not over 18, and you never know with the hormones in milk these days. All I could think of was, "now that is how passover should be." The moral of Passover is clearly that you've gotta look sexy even when celebrating the suffering of your ancestors that helped get you to where you are today.

In honor of that I ran shirtless in my newest pair of shorts that, when the wind flaps, expose the side dimples on my buttocks. So get out there and rock your bod...for Passover's sake, and don't ever forget to Borei Pre Hagafen...