SpotonLI presents Guest Blogger Jill Mizrahi Balnis creator of Blog Yourself Silly. Jill is a recent graduate of Hofstra University with a BA in English and creative writing. Married with two beautiful kids, Jill shares her life, love and at 40 proves that she’s only just begun.

Thirty-Eight Plus TWO

Wow. It’s here. Today. The big one. The one I never thought I’d make it to. Forty. I can barely type it.

But you know, so far, it’s really not so bad. Eight made me “coffee-in-bed” (bless her little heart, the “on” button wasn’t working on the coffee machine and she couldn’t get the milk carton open. I didn’t mind helpin’ her one bit when she came up with the carton while I was all bleary-eyed in bed. God forbid Twelve help her.) Anyway, she also made pancakes (again, with my help as Twelve was too busy with his Playstation 3 head-set on and was in video-game bliss) and she answered the phone all morning taking birthday messages for me while I rested. What I am finding, though, is that with the journey to forty comes the culmination of at least some wisdom and a little bit more acceptance. Forty brings decisions, (some that are life-altering), realizations, (the ah-has! we all heard about from Oprah) and the Grand Puba of all… the “fuck its/yous/thats”. Sometimes I like those the best. It means my skin is thickening and that I’m not running around with my tail between my legs all the time. Certain things and experiences are still a little frightening to face in some ways, but also exciting in others. I don’t know – maybe forty is going to be better than twenty. Mentally at least. What follows are some observations, lessons and some things I’ve accepted up to this point in my life:

For starters:

– These days, I wait anxiously each month for the “beast” to come, NOT for fear that if it doesn’t I could be pregnant, but out of fear that its absence could mean I might be experiencing those types of changes that indicate I will be growing hair in bad, more-visibly unacceptable places. When that shit happens, I’m just throwin’ in the fucking towel.

– Gone are the days when I’d fling my bra off ASAP in order to free the girls. Now I sleep with said bra in hopes that I can re-train them to lay where the good Lord intended. But really, it’s like trying to re-elasticize a rubber-band. Impossible.

– The allure of a thong is wearing off. All thongs and anything resembling a thong have somehow migrated to the bottom of the undies drawer. Not to say that I completely ignore them altogether, but lately I have more important concerns for my ass than whether I have panty-lines. The temptation of the three-pack of Hanes bikini undies hanging in Target’s intimate apparel aisle won out one day: I circled around with my wagon and finally threw in the stupid pack. For a moment, I even considered going up a size AND to briefs just for the sheer promise of MORE comfort. Comfort over style is totally age-related, although it has yet to completely win. I am not ready to give in to panty lines AND the promise of total comfort and belly-coverage all in one shot.

– I have accepted I’ve reached that level of uncoolness we all dread as parents. Here I am, thinking I can kick ASS at Wii Just Dance, but all Twelve has to do is wiggle his hips and flick the Wii remote and he wins – every fucking time. And then there I am laying, on the couch, winded and sweaty and listening to chants of “DORK DORK DORK” coming from his wise-ass self. Is it wrong that I’ve come ::thisclose:: to saying “fuck you” to my child out of sheer frustration?

– Not to say I don’t want to look nice when I leave the house, but I’ve found as I get older, I don’t care so much about how awful I look sometimes, either. I mean, really… sometimes it’s easier to fall asleep in what I’m already wearing and much easier not to have to get dressed again in the morning. What…? I have to be fashion conscious just for school drop off and a stop at 7-11? I don’t know if throwing a sweatshirt over my recycled outfit really does constitute a brand new outfit or if it just means I’m old and lazy. (pause) Okay, so after re-reading that, 1) it sounds yucky, and 2) I’ve decided that yes, I AM old and lazy. But because I know for a fact SEVERAL people who’ve done that, too, (and there are a few people I can add to that list with some degree of certainty), I don’t care that I actually wrote it. Some of you are nodding to yourselves saying, oh my god! I’m not the only one! Don’t deny it.

– The fact that I don’t care that I wrote that above means something BIG for me.

– As I get older, the more I enjoy saying really bad, offensive words. I can’t help it. I LIKE it. I say them often, too. Even to my mom, Sixty-Seven. (Well, she says them, too, so…. we’re even).

On a more serious note, I really have come to many things leading up to this decade of my life. I’ve realized that in my quest to please others, I’ve oftentimes made things harder for myself and allowed other people to hurt me. I know now that I can’t always please everyone and it’s okay. And those that have hurt me are long gone from my life and it no longer affects me negatively. They’re in my past for a reason: lesson learned, moving on.

I’ve learned that the further I am from perfect, (or trying to be), the better off I am. My faults make me strive to better myself, they motivate me, and they keep my determination alive to fight for what I want and need. Perfect, truly, is overrated and I’ve come to like and accept my idiosyncrasies.

Life really is a journey and sometimes our paths veer off to places we never knew existed or ever thought about taking. But, as Frost said:
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
So, if my life takes me onto a different path, well damn it, if it ends up making all the difference, then so be it.

And finally, I have met and I have known many people in these 40 years and while some have come and gone, they were probably there for some reason. Maybe I learned what I needed, (or didn’t need, for that matter) from these people, or maybe they came and went because their paths took them another way. Whatever the reason, so be it.

Then there are those that came and went, who added nothing to my life but heartache. I’ve learned not to cry over experiences or people like that in life anymore – they’re not worth the tears or the emotional exhaustion from crying them. I’ve learned how to weed out the good from the bad because of these types. While I say “good riddance,” I’m still grateful for the lessons I’ve learned.

Then there are those friendships that have sustained throughout the years; those that have been unsinkable through the good times and the stormy ones. These are the friends that are considered as part of my family. These are the people I know who love me.

So, tonight as I celebrate this milestone, I raise my chocolate martini glass to these people:

-To those who have touched my life, whether in the past or present, I am nothing but thankful.
-To the people who make me cry from laughing so hard, and you all know who you are, laughter is most def the best medicine for anything that ails a person.
-To the people who move me to tears simply because of the admiration I have for them, or for sharing their struggles, and for demonstrating their strength during these struggles. How wonderful and generous that you’ve invited me into your lives and allowed me to stay and share with you.
– To the people who bring out the parts of me that I never knew were there,(or the parts of me that were there but were afraid to come out), and who allow me to be exactly the person I’ve come to be at this ripe ol’ age. Throughout my life, I’ve often wondered who I was and what I was all about because I’ve never had the confidence or courage to see things in myself and allow them to just “be.” Then unexpectedly, this person who’s always struggled with herself finally does come out and does so quite naturally and without much fanfare. I see the same face in the mirror, but I see a different person behind the visage. People who have come into my life and who have helped me, even unknowingly, with this type of self-discovery and acceptance are the types of friends everyone needs. I’m grateful to have them because the gift they’ve given me is priceless. I do hope and pray they know who they are, and if they don’t, well… there will come a day I will make certain they do.

So, as Thirty-Eight Plus Two (a.k.a “Forty”), I finally seem to be learning things in life, -things about people, things about myself -that have great significance and staying power. While I count my blessings of what I have and what I once had, I am looking forward to what else lies before me, what path my life may take, and the people I may encounter. And along the way, I hope that I, too, can touch people’s lives in a positive, memorable way.

Love and cheers from Ol’ Forty.

a Blog by Bonehead

I profess this forum to be a clearing house for random thoughts, rants, ideas and general stupidity. The aggressive tossing is simply reflective of an unyielding effort to be honest to whatever crosses my mind without concern over political correctness.

That’s probably too bold a description – most of my blabber is just that, blabber. And like this one – they probably tend to run a little too long to be of interest to anyone other than myself.

Don’t get the wrong idea by the title of this post either. I’m not here tonight to talk about the difficulties that being unemployed presents. Everyone knows that already – and Bonehead doesn’t play the whining game. These last few days though have been a bit of a challenge. And since my posts often venture into a rambling thistle of confusing thought-shit I humbly predict that this one will no doubt travel my typical path. I’d offer you a map – but it’s probably tucked safely in the back pocket of my pants, and I have once again, misplaced those.

Tonight, my wife inadvertently gave a mission statement to our new business – the old expression; “if you want something done, give it to a busy person”.

I’ve been out of work for about two months yet I feel like I’m working harder than ever. My wife and I are settling into our new routine, trying to get some sort of direction as to where we’re going to take this new venture. Trouble is we feel we have a boatload of new ideas, some good ideas even, but the effort and occasional fret over getting them up and running is daunting. We make a good team, and we’ve managed to get a few things started that seem to be headed in the right direction, all still geared towards a more or less official launch in January. She runs a great local online interview magazine – maybe you’ve seen it – www.spotonli.com she does the interviews, I do some of the editing, but that’s just a part of the bigger picture.

We have several other websites in production (a couple I’m actually attempting on my own – THAT’S going to be interesting) and we have a litany of special client projects that we’ve agreed to undertake. I’m considering starting a consulting firm that I feel uniquely qualified for since people have been telling me that I need counseling for years now. We’re looking into some online publishing and merchandising opportunities, and still trying to come up with a stupid enough You Tube video that we can make go viral for nothing else except our own amusement.

Sure – it all sounds wonderful. I probably could have sat out my severance period drinking beer and watching The Flintstones, then jumped into another sales position somewhere within my industry once my agreed upon time frame concluded. Nope. I decided the day I got shit-canned that I was going to attempt to make the most of this unique opportunity. I think we have thus far, but now I’ve entered the realm of anxiety that the clock is ticking. Reaching the halfway marker the other day made us stop and take a look at the status of everything, plus what’s on the calendar to do before our planned launch date. We’ve got a lot of fucking work to do.

First – it seems we’re on e-mail overload. Through the various sites and projects, we have over twenty active e-mail accounts between us on various platforms. Add that to the social media sites, twitter accounts (Bonehead tweets now, albeit one lonely tweet so far – follow me @boneheadblog) checking in on entrecard, my bloglog, blog catalogue, ebay etc, etc it seems we’re just trying to keep up sometimes. You can probably imagine all of the exciting new Viagra and male enhancement offers that many e-mail accounts provide on a daily basis, and of course, I have to review each one.

A side issue to all of these accounts is trying to remember user names and passwords to each one. Following the sage advice of varying passwords and names over online accounts, coupled with my depleted brain cell count often leads to great amusement here as I try to recall how to get into my old AOL e-mail accounts. Great amusement for all except me of course.

One of my patented spreadsheet solutions will help get that together soon.

As I was lovingly sharing a website idea with my wife, she began to ridicule me for its apparent complexity. This led her to address the multitudes of e-mail addresses and projects we seem to be laying out. Plans are piling up faster than we can address them – and we needed to simplify them into a way we can manage it more effectively.

This got me to thinking.

People have described me over the years as highly organized, efficient, detail-orientated, systematic, analytical, a prick. Face it – I’m anal retentive, but it’s helped me get the job done. Well.

So why not draw on something I actually learned through my time in radio. The most basic element of programming is the “clock”. No we’re not exactly talking about the frightening bird chirping one on the kitchen wall – but a systematic breakdown of the plan for each hour of broadcast. How many minutes for each element – music, commercials, announcements, dead air, of a show or broadcast hour is devised, then it’s painstakingly broken down literally into seconds, fed into a computer, checked and then put out over the air on a radio station nobody is really listening to anyway.

We decided to put a clock on what we anticipate our basic tasks to be on a weekly basis. Counting the precious few minutes I typically allot to Bonehead on a daily basis, it seems like we’ll be working night and day, every day until either the end of time or 12/21/12, whichever comes first. So we’re going to have to pare down and cut out some non-essentials.
Quickly to hit the scrap heap was the pants for dogs idea. Sure, your pooch might look pretty smooth in a stylish pair of chinos, but the reality is that since dogs do not have opposable thumbs – they’d have the damnedest time getting the zipper undone when it’s time for them to do their business.

Also now removed from our future plans is the online social site exclusively for gentlemen with excessive back hair and the women who love them. Nope www.fuzzback.com won’t be launched anytime soon. We have returned Robin Williams deposit.

It’s difficult sometimes to let go of your ideas. A crushing of dreams, death to hope. However, occasionally it’s necessary to fire them down in order to allow some of the smarter, better looking ones to grow further upward.

The point of any journey is not to arrive – it’s to enjoy the ride. At our pre-determined halfway point, the point now is not to return.

November 11, 2009 Veterans Day

A Hero Among Us

by Mick DuRussel

One definition of the word “hero” is described as any man who is admired for his courage, nobility, or exploits in war. It is not often that a person gets to meet a genuine American hero. This fantastic moment happened to me eight years ago. My son was in the Boy Scouts at that time. Each year, the troop would hold a Chinese auction to raise funds for themselves. This particular year, 2001, the tragedy of September 11th propelled the troop to not only raise money for their own group but for local families who lost loved ones.

 
I started contacting many companies, foundations and celebrities for donations to be included in the auction. The response was tremendous. One celebrity I got in touch with was Lt. Col. Francis “Gabby” Gabreski. For those of you who are not familiar with Gabreski, he was the top American Ace pilot in World War II. A pilot becomes an Ace with “five” kills, enemy planes shot down. Gabreski scored 28 kills, the most ever for an American pilot. After the war, he worked in the aviation industry and was president of the Long Island Railroad. He was married for 48 years and had nine children. They made their home in Dix Hills on Long Island. His wife died in an automobile accident in 1993.

 
Having known about the great exploits of this American icon, I decided to call him to see if he could donate something for our auction. To my surprise, he answered the phone himself and asked me if I could stop by his home to pick up a signed lithograph. “Absolutely Mr. Gabreski, I will be there shortly!!” I replied. So I drove from my home in Lake Ronkonkoma to his home in Dix Hills. I knocked on the door and an older, fragile gentleman opened it. There before me was “Gabby” Gabreski.
He shook my hand, welcomed me and said to come inside. The home was a cozy family home but seemed to be only inhabited by the great but humble Gabreski. He moved slow and told me he was not well, having just been in the hospital.

 
From the dining room table, he handed me a rolled up lithograph that depicted “Gabby” downing an enemy aircraft in a WWII dogfight. I thanked him for this rare and beautiful piece of art that I knew would bring in a lot of money at the auction.
Before I left, Gabreski asked me if I could do him a favor and give him a jump start in his car. The battery had died.
“It would be my pleasure Mr. Gabreski”. We went outside. His car was in the garage. With him behind the wheel, I pushed the car into the open. I found jumping cables in the garage, pulled my car alongside his and jump started his vehicle within minutes. He was very happy. Before I left, I gave him one of my business cards. “If you ever need help with anything at all, I only work a few miles away in Melville. Please give me a ring and I will be here in a flash!”. He smiled, shook my hand, thanked me and said he surely would call. As I pulled away, he was still sitting in his running car.

 
Less than 3 months later, just before the auction, Gabreski passed away on January 31, 2002. He had just turned 83.
The auction was a huge success. One of the prime items was the signed litho from the late, great Francis Gabreski.
The years have passed. Boy Scouts are a pleasant memory. And that brief moment in time when I got to meet a true American hero is a treasured moment that will forever be etched in my memories.

For more information on Lt. Col. Francis Gabreski, please see:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gabby_Gabreski

One of the best things about having a magazine is you run across amazing writers, columnist and bloggers. Glenn of Man Over Board runs an online magazine that’s made for a man but is smart and sassy enough for a woman. From health to fashion to humor and news, Glenn is one of the highest ranked bloggers in the blogosphere and for good reason…his site is fantastic!  Glenn interviewed Designer Tristan Christopher and we’re happy to have him as a guest blogger on SpotonLI!  To read more  about Glenn please visit Man Over Board! -Christine Gerani

Interview with Tristan Christopher of Couture Tees

by Glenn of Man Over Board

MOB:Tell me a little about yourself. Where are you from?  What are your general professional and non-professional interests?

TC: My heritage is native American and Caribbean inspired but I call home, my birth and resting, place Redondo Beach California. I aspires to be known as a philanthropist, compassionate, and loving individual. I strive to stay competitive  and competent in many challenging fields, a “renaissance” type character.  Professionally I am focused on creating residual income from various automated business primarily online and wholesales.

MOB: What does Fashion mean to you?

TC: Fashion to me is one of many modes of expression. Wearable art, simple, rAw, refined or elegant, it is a statement and testament to self.

MOB: When did you realize you wanted to become a fashion designer?

 TC: In grade school I often wore garb that was edgy, a talking piece, funky. The attention good or bad motivated me to mold myself from outside in as well as visa versa.

MOB: What was the first article of clothing you ever designed? 

TC: For a project in grade school I used my mothers scrubs. I mixed them with patch work to create what I thought was pajamas you could sport on the playground. Um, I looked silly, but nonetheless it carved a path for me.

MOB: How long does it usually take you to construct a piece?

TC: All of our items are embellished by hand. Although simple, and repetitive, typically an item takes 3-20 minutes. It’s a pop-modernist meets commercial art, Warhol factory of sorts. Samples usually take three or four hours from Concept to conception.

MOB: Describe the general process you go through to design and realize a piece of clothing.

TC: First I decide what canvas “articles of clothing” to use. Then I really feel out it’s geoMetry, color and style. Then I create the art using computer graphic software, paint brush, paints, dye, silk screen, foiling, embroidery, and more.

Goodbye Soupy by Mick DuRussel

On Thursday, October 22nd, we lost a true legend of the entertainment business. Soupy Sales, the slapstick- pie throwing comic, was 83 years young when he passed away at a hospice in the Bronx. He had been in failing health for many years though he continued to make appearances at local memorabilia shows until earlier this year. His comedic genius brought him broad appeal to children and adults alike throughout the land. It is estimated that he tossed well over 20,000 pies during his long career. And his on air capers in front of his children’s audience would sometimes get him in hot water, which in turn would only boost his popularity.

One event in particular is probably his most famous blunder. It was New Years Day in 1965. Soupy was almost done with his show at 7pm when the producer told him he had a minute to kill. Soupy walked up to the camera and said “Listen children, your mom and dad are probably tired from last night and they’re laying down in their bedroom. Go in the room quietly and look in your mom’s pocketbook and your dad’s wallet. Look for any green paper that has pictures of men with beards on them. Take those funny green papers, put them in an envelope and mail them to me at the TV station. Once I get your envelope, I will send you a postcard from Puerto Rico!” Soupy was suspended for two weeks!
I had the pleasure to meet Soupy a few years ago at my buddy Gary Lyons’ “Gotham Super Collector’s Show” in NYC. He was very happy to be meeting his fans and signing autographs throughout the day despite showing the effects from a stroke he suffered a few months earlier. The photograph above is myself with Soupy at the show. A trooper to the end.
Goodbye Soupy. I wonder of St.Peter gave you a pie in the face as you went through those pearly gates!

Jason Mayo is Outnumbered by Christine Gerani

Long Island born Jason Mayo has raised the bar for bloggers everywhere with his super popular blog, Outnumbered. Outnumbered chronicles his life with his beautiful wife Ronni, and their two adorable daughters Sophie, 7 and Ruby, 3.  A humorous blog about family life and parenting; Jason sometimes has to deal with controversy and guilt while also showing his tremendous heart.  We talk about his buddy’s fight with cancer and a day that changed both their lives forever.  Enjoy this wonderful interview with Long Island’s own Jason Mayo, a truly great storyteller.

Christine – Jason, tell us a little bit about where you grew up and your upbringing?

Jason – Well we moved from Rosedale Queens to Merrick here on Long Island, I guess I was going into the first grade.  I moved with my mom and my dad and my little brother.  Except for college, I’ve been here ever since.  My parents got divorced when I was probably 7 or 8, my dad moved to Jersey or Connecticut or wherever he was at the time.  It was me and my brother growing up with my mom.  My mom was a single working mom, she became a teacher.  So we were latch-key kids walking to school, coming home for lunch and after school.  You can never do that now. I don’t let my kid go two inches outside, ‘cause the white van will come and take her away.

I went off to Oneonta College and when I met my wife we moved to Forest Hills for awhile, and then we wind up back here in Bellmore.  It’s all full circle which is funny because growing up in Merrick we’re literally a town a way now from where I grew up, but  it’s like a whole different world for me.  I don’t recognize any of it.  I don’t have any recollection of Bellmore being close to Merrick.  As a matter of fact, when I was taking guitar lessons while I was kid, I remember going to this guitar center called Focus 2 Guitar Center.  That was years and years ago, I was about 13, I remember they used to have those little rubber guitar key chains.  I bought that electric blue guitar at Focus 2. I started taking guitar lessons again about 6 months ago at this place called Music Emporium which is right down the street from here.  I say to my instructor “Ya know what, this place totally reminds me of this place Focus 2 Guitar Center, where I got my first guitar but I know it was so far away”… and the guys like “Dude this is Focus 2!”.   Just goes to show you I basically grew up in this town across Sunrise Highway, but it might as well have been the Red Sea.  I don’t know where I am.  I just have a bad sense of direction too.

Christine – Let’s talk about your wife Ronni, you met in College?

Jason – Yea, she’s two years younger than me and it’s one of those meant to be things.  She was a junior and I was super senior.  I met her in my last semester.  If I never stayed [in College], she always jokes “If you weren’t as stupid as you were, we would never have met”.  I remember seeing her, we took chemistry together.  She didn’t know me and I didn’t know her but she was super hot.  She won the Greek Goddess Competition.  I always remember just looking at her checking her out a little bit but she was younger and she was quiet and I never used to see her out, and I was usually too drunk to remember.  But I remember seeing her at chemistry class and thinking I should talk to her.  So we had a Halloween party. It was my fraternity and her sorority and we never used to hang out fraternity – sorority wise.  I didn’t have a costume so instead of getting one I went and I shaved my head into a Mohawk.  I had long hair at that point. It was a long big huge Mohawk and my ex-girlfriend at the time put make up on me to make me look like King Diamond, he’s a Heavy Metal guy.  So I had a Mohawk, crazy devil worshipping make up on, black t-shirt, camouflage pants and I went to this party and that’s how I met her.  She was dressed like Winnie from The Wonder Years. So we started talking that night and for me at least, but definitely not for her, I guess because what I was wearing. It was like one of those, love at first site things.

As the months went on and we were boyfriend and girlfriend I remember my best friend and her didn’t get along. But I remember my best friend, Ladd Everitt and I, we got into a big argument about it.  So he’s being a total dick about it and I said to him “Ya know what – I’m definitely marrying this girl”.  He says “You’re not going to marry her, get over it, trust me”.  So I wrote down I will marry Ronni Berson and I wrote the date, I didn’t tell him but I put it in his junk draw and forgot about it.  Five years later on my wedding day, he gave me the envelope with the letter in it!  How cool is that!  That marked the first time that I’ve ever been right…and the last time.

Christine – So you have these two lovely ladies, Sophie and Ruby.  They’re very sweet by the way.

Jason – They are?

Christine – They’re the basis of your blogs!  BTW…I love “I Don’t Do Bath Time” about the bubble bath and the penis foams.  Tell us about the letter you wrote for your girls.

Jason – I had to, I was starting to feel guilty, it was consuming me.  I drop a lot of F- Bombs and things like that because that’s just how I talk.   I try not curse in front of the kids.  In the blog, I try to write like I speak.  It’s not always grammatically correct; I spell a lot of stuff wrong.  When I read I get bored very easily, I have A.D.D with that type of stuff, so I try to write as if I’m having a conversation.  A lot of what I talk about walks a little bit of a line as far as family, and sometimes people have a problem with that.  I always notice also that the people that hate what I write always comment anonymously and they say the nastiest things.  There was a blog recently that I wrote where I call the kids assholes and I caught a lot of flack from anonymous people on the site.  Even my mom who comments all the time says you should burn this one, and my wife’s best friend was like “What do you think they’ll think if they read that someday?”  Everything for me is in the name of humor and sometimes I feel that you have to say certain things for people to really get what you mean.  I could have said “jerk”.  I’m not trying to necessarily shock someone but if I’m having a conversation with my wife and my kid is being really super nasty, in conversation my wife and I would be like she’s being a so and so.  I just happened to write about it and I started to second guess myself.  I was going to take it down, and I thought that the whole part of writing this thing for me is that one day I want them to read this stuff and see, uncensored, how things went on, because I think it would hysterical.

Christine – Do they have any understanding yet that Daddy’s a famous blogger who writes about them?

Jason – Ya know I don’t know.  My oldest, Sophie, is extremely savvy on the computer and they are both super attentive to detail so they do pick up on a lot of stuff that goes on conversation-wise.  I remember a few months back I had bought Sophie her first real two wheeler bike.  An amazing Diamond Back, a gorgeous bike.  We were riding it and it sort of inspired me to write a blog entry about my first bike.  And really what it came down to after I started writing it is “Now that I think about it, my first bike was a piece of shit”.  It was like the gold Ross with the banana seat, it was the worst.  I thought it was completely amazing.  So I wrote this blog basically comparing, it was two boxes side by side; the old Ross and her Diamond Back and I referred to her bike as “Bad-Ass” which is a positive term.  The next day Sophie came up to me and said “I’m really mad at you” so I asked why and she says “because I thought you liked my bike”.  I said I love your bike and she said “But you called my bike bad-ass”.  Then I realized that she had gotten on the computer and seen the blog and read the whole thing.  Luckily that blog was not a filled with curses.  The tough thing was not really explaining the whole blog, but it took me 15 minutes to explain what bad-ass meant.  I knew that she’d be using it school that day, so I wanted to make sure she used it in context.  I don’t want her to call someone she hates a bad-ass, so I tried to explain to her what bad-ass meant.  It was a little bit of a misunderstanding, but I think was her first exposure to the blog.  God, I don’t want them to read it now, but I think she has an idea of sort of what it is and that people read it.

Christine – You commute to New York City where you work as Managing Director and Partner of the award winning visual effects and design studio, Click 3X, and the Interactive Design Boutique, Clickfire Media. Do you find inspiration riding the train?

Jason – I did an entry the other day.  I’d done this entry about my buddy Rich who has cancer, it might have been the first time I didn’t write something humorous.  It was something that really moved me.  So I wrote that and it was so heavy that I almost felt the pressure.  There was a point where I was thinking about not writing the blog anymore because I almost wanted to take that entry down.  Usually when I write something I can’t wait to get the next one.  I gotta move on, I get impatient.  If I don’t think it’s that funny, I want to write something better.  But there was so much meaning for me in it. If I stopped writing my blog today, I’d want people to still see that entry.  It was up there for 6 or 7 days which is kind of long for me.  I wanted to keep that alive on my blog,  but I had to get back.  The next entry I wrote, I wasn’t inspired by anything, I was feeling a little bit like there was pressure to be funny again, so I took the lap top out on the train.  I wasn’t planning on writing anything but I wanted to do something a little spontaneous, so I’m just looking around the train and I’m like “that fucking guy looks like Kenny Rogers”.  I look and there is a guy across from him and he looked like Kenny Rogers and there was another dude to the side of me and he looked like Kenny Rogers and I was like “There’s a bunch of fucking Kenny Rogers on the train!”  Three dudes on the train that look like him!  Then I look around there’s someone that looks like Bea Arthur. So I wind up writing this blog, and that blog it actually freed me.  I read it back, rarely do I start laughing at my own stuff, but I felt you know what…finally!

Christine – What’s your favorite blog that you have written?

Jason – “Things that Suck Most about Having Kids”. I thought it was funny because it was tearing apart the whole kid thing.

Christine – Sounds like a great title. Do ever think about writing a book one day?

Jason – I was thinking about writing some sort of a humor memoir about parenting but also anything I can do that goes to charity. So if anything getting more involved in Garden of Dreams, has inspired me to sort of think about possibly doing something to take the blog thing to the next level and turning it to some sort of charity effort.

Christine – We’ve talked about Garden of Dreams.  SpotonLI featured one of your blogs called “Hockey Heals” What was it like meeting former New York Ranger Adam Graves?

Jason – I’ve been lucky enough to meet a bunch of the 1994 cup winning Rangers in the past.  Adam in particular,  I had an experience where I commuted to Penn Station and I happened to be walking down 7^th Avenue and I wind up seeing Adam Graves coming across the street holding a cup of coffee.  So I see him coming across the street and I called out to him.  He looked at me and realized I was completely crazy.  I introduced myself and I said my name is Jason and I’m  a season ticket holder and I’m a big fan, and I just wanted to say hello.  He was just one of those guys that look you straight in the eye, shakes you hand, says your name, asks you if you have any kids, asked me how my family was.  We had a about a 5 minute conversation outside the Garden.  I was just really impressed by him.  He was exactly who I though he would be.  He does so much charitable work that you know he’s a good guy. So I had this experience meeting him, I called my season ticket guy and said I met Adam Graves on the street and I would love to get his email if possible just to say hey it was great to meet you.  So I got his email and I shot him an email that day.  The next day he emailed me back and said “It was great to meet you too hope to see you at the games one day!”  He’s super easy to talk to.

So fast forward to Garden of Dreams.  We’ve been doing season tickets for about 13 years, me, my buddy Rich and my buddy Jamie.  Every year we meet at the seats, we’re all great friends.  Jamie moved away to Florida with his family.  So it was going to be Rich and I going to the games.  Then we found out a few months back that he had cancer.  All of a sudden Richs’ health is a lot more important.  But in the back of my mind I was thinking this is our safe haven where we go to be together and have fun.  Jamie’s not there and my buddy Rich is fighting for his life. The weeks leading up to the game I said to Rich, listen I’ve got two tickets this year instead of three.  If we can go to the games we go to the games, don’t worry about paying for them, I’ll get rid of them if we can’t go.  You tell me when you can go and the ticket’s yours.  He says I just can’t commit but thank you so much!  It’s awesome!  A few days before opening night, and we never missed an opening night together, I said can you go?  He said he’d been throwing up a lot and was sick cause of the chemo.  He didn’t know but would call that day.  So the night before the game I was actually writing and I thought if Rich can’t go, I kind of wanted to do something to make him feel better because he’s been sick and hasn’t been moving around, and I know he hasn’t been in a great mood.  So I have Adam Graves e-mail and, since he responded that time, let me send him an email and explain the situation to him.  So I wrote this email to Adam explaining what was going on with Rich and how important it was to us.  The next morning I got up and my cell phone rings, I didn’t recognize the number so I picked it up and sure enough it was Adam Graves, and he says “Jason it’s Adam Graves”!  He asks how my buddy is feeling and if we’re going to make it to the game today.  I said I hadn’t spoken to him but I’d call him and find out.  He said “Listen, I got your email, I’ll do something nice for you guys, if your buddy’s on the fence tell him we’ll make it worth his while”.   I said alright.  So I called Rich and he said hadn’t been feeling too bad, he was going to definitely try to make it. I didn’t tell him that I had spoken to Adam.

So we go to the game, got to our seats and in between the first and the second period Rich leaves to use the rest room. Some kid in a suit came down to get us and said Adam is upstairs.  I said yea my buddy is in the bathroom he might be sick.  He said yea Adam told me all about Rich.  So they took us up to this suite and I thought maybe it might be a period in the box with a whole bunch of other people. We walk into the suite and it’s just Adam, by himself. My buddy Rich didn’t know what was going on.  I introduced myself and Rich says “Nice to meet you Mr. Graves”. My buddy didn’t realize this was for him and I turn to Rich and said we planned this whole thing and he just started balling.  He just realized and he just lost it. We hugged, I said I love you, he said I love you too, he’s like this is the nicest thing anybody’s ever done for me. Adam patted me on the back. It was a great moment. We watch the whole period, the three of us. He literally cleared the suite out for us so we can watch the period by ourselves.  It inspired me.  Adam is a charity guy. He works with the Garden of Dreams Foundation.  I realized this wasn’t a Garden of Dreams sanctioned thing that he did for us; it was out of the kindness of his heart.  He does that every day.  It got me thinking about this Garden of Dreams, because I just associate him with that and that’s what they do.  They find kids that are in crisis and they use the resources that they have with these Superstars at the Garden whether it’s the Knicks, Liberty or The Rangers and they arrange these special experiences with kids. The look in my buddy’s eye and then the look in Adam’s eye, I knew how important it was for him…this is what it’s all about.  It really opened my eyes to just doing something for the sake of just doing it.

Christine – You are now raising money for Garden of Dreams? What is your goal?

Jason – I said to Adam at the game, you really inspired me to make a difference for Garden of Dreams.  I explained to him I’m a blogger and I gave him my site.  I told him that I’ll put a widget on my site and I’m going to try and raise money.  At first the goal was to raise $5,000 and I’m 70% there which is amazing, it’s been up for a couple of weeks.  I wrote a letter to the chairman of Garden of Dreams and I heard back from her that week.  We actually have a meeting to talk about how I can get more involved.  I’m not Google or anything as far as traffic goes but I do have enough loyal readers who come that can help spread the word. I think the goal for me is to just try to keep getting the word out about Garden of Dreams and use some of that positive influence to do stuff. I was even thinking about if Rich can’t make games maybe there are certain ways that I can take somebody to fill that seat on certain nights.  Maybe I can sanction that with Garden of Dreams.  I know people don’t want to give their kids to me…drinking beers with troubled teenagers…

Christine – Not when you’re calling them assholes.

Jason – Exactly. But whatever it is, it’s really inspired me on a whole different level. It’s given me some purpose right now.

To read all of Jason’s wonderful blogs or to find how to donate to the Garden of Dreams Foundation, please visit Jason’s site at OutnumberedOnline.com

To join the SpotonLI Facebook Fanpage please visit us HERE!

by The Bonehead Review

It’s sort of a topic along those lines that’s bugging me today. Matter of fact it’s about some old guy looking to continue getting out between the lines that’s got me perturbed.

Brett Favre is older than fucking dirt – and frankly – I just wish he’s go away already. I know – I’m old too – but you don’t have to read about me in the sports pages every damn day (I’m usually in the dumb criminals section).

No denying – he was a great quarterback, and a fantastic gamer in his prime but his final pass really should have been the one he completed to Corey Webster of my beloved New York Giants. That fateful overtime interception in the 07-08 NFC Championship game that basically sealed the deal and set up the winning field goal that sent the Jints to their win in Super Bowl 42. That game is a great case in point as to why Favre should have just gone away then. Nobody thought the Giants could beat the Packers in frozen Lambeau Field – it was ice, snow and about one hundred below. But the Giants defense made Favre look like Abe Vigoda in a cheesehead helmet – he really should have carried through with his multiple threats to hang it up after that game.

Instead, he decided to fence sit for most of the off-season – holding up the Green Bay Packers in their plans for moving forward and formally awarding the starting quarterback job to incumbent Aaron Rogers. He spent way too much time wondering if he wanted to retire or not – being wishy washy with the media and his team. When the Packers finally had enough of his prima Donna bullshit they simply handed the job to Rogers, offered Favre a gold watch and some ice fishing mittens and hoped he would gracefully retire – almost on top.

Nope – old Brett then felt slighted, and began to whine loudly – demanding that the Packers allow him out of his contract so that he could negotiate a deal to play for the Bears or Vikings – arch division rivals of the Packers. Nice way to show Packer fans just how much of a team guy he was. The Packers of course would not allow it, but did however manage to trade him to the New York Jets for a case of Ben Gay and three bottles of Viagra. Yup – seems it was official – Brett was coming back for another year – to shine in the lights of Broadway with the Giants sad ugly stepsister – the Jets.

Favre certainly did have some good games for the Jets – and they cleaned up with merchandise sales of #4 Jets jerseys and denture cups with the Jets logo and Favres lifetime interceptions records on them. Hell, he even may have had something to do with the odd sales increase of Wrangler Jeans in the New York metro area. However, the year did not end well. For while Brett continued his ironman consecutive games streak, a rumored elbow ailment seriously curtailed his late season effectiveness, and with it dashed the playoff hopes for the team.

So as the Jets set off early back to the proverbial drawing board, the media covering the circus that Brett Favre had now become began the annual speculation as to weather he would or wouldn’t retire. Brett, as had become his custom – went off to the woods of Mississippi to hunt – because the killing of innocent creatures for sport apparently helped Brett decide if he wanted to bother NFL fans for yet another season. Somewhere along his trip however, he most have gotten lost – because the Jets were trying to move on. Brett would not give them a clear answer as to what he wanted to do, and the Jets, to their credit, were actually somewhat lukewarm to him returning. They’d just hired a brand new head coach whose basic motto is simply “don’t take shit from anyone” and they decided not to put up with Favre’s annual indecision condition. They told him to take a fucking walk, and drafted a hot shot quarterback in the first round of the draft.

So what did old Brett do? Now effectively a free agent – he decided to once again keep some young deserving quarterback out of a job in Minnesota – as he has been rumored to have signed with the Vikings. Of course, he’s said he’s staying retired, and they haven’t as yet had the proverbial press conference with thousands of reporters and John Madden fawning over the great Brett Favre – but Favre actually underwent surgery to remove the age spots from his elbow that sunk the Jets this past season and has attended team meetings where he went incognito by wearing bifocals and a hunting hat. I just can’t wait for the same damn media circus that has surrounded his decision for what seems like the last ten seasons, that Brett Favre has decided to come back for one more year.

Go the hell home already – nobody cares about your unfounded vengeance against the Packers – the organization that you obviously helped win many games for with your reckless style, but let’s face facts – you also cost the team plenty of games with your…reckless style.

I think why this situation pisses me off so much is that like anything else – you get tired of hearing and seeing the same old stories over and over. Let’s hear about the games and the players who are performing currently – and quit spending so much time on a washed up player who’s more interested in keeping himself in the spotlight than truly helping a team. His me-first behavior has severely damaged his reputation as a warrior and legend – and that’s sad. Lots of players have hung around just a little too long – but very few have made themselves more annoying than a mosquito buzzing in the ear of a guy with no arms.

Just go away Brett. Go far Farve away.

An End to A Talented but Bizarre Life 

by Mick Du Ressel

My 17 year old daughter, SherriAnn, had just arrived at her senior prom when she heard the news. “Michael Jackson died!!!” was the text I received at home. “Just heard! I responded. SherriAnn had grown up idolizing Jackson, knowing and singing his songs. She was mesmerized by his incredible dancing as we all were. I could sense her sadness on what was to be a very happy day in her life.
Jackson’s talent was only tainted by his bizarre behavior that the world got used to hearing about. From the cute little boy who was the star in a very talented family to the man who refused to grow up, living in a Disneyland type mansion with exotic animals and rides. He had numerous plastic surgeries that altered his normal features. Several charges of child molestation halted a huge career that could have put him in an orbit that no one has ever reached before. Still, his fans remained loyal hoping for a comeback from the “King of Pop”. Now, that comeback will never happen. He now belongs to the ages.
“Michael Jackson died!!!” my daughter texted me. Yes SherriAnn, he did indeed pass away. The world is sorry. But the real Michael Jackson died many years ago.

Please visit http://boneheadreview.blogspot.com/ for more random thoughts thrown aggressively at the wall.

Based on the events of yesterday, I’d be remiss if I didn’t spend a moment commenting on the passing of Michael Jackson. Obviously I have previously taken advantage of many opportunities to be a wise ass prick. And you’d think with the plethora of material that the odd and questionable actions Jacko has engaged in over the years would lead me down the same path.

Nah, that should be saved for another time perhaps. Not now. As fucked up as he was reported to be – nobody can honestly deny what an iconic and brilliant talent he actually was. Even more so – he was a celebrity that was so much larger than life, it’s even more undeniable that the legend will forever only grow larger.

True legends are rare – and of course, our society dictates that their popularity is eminently grander if they are celebrities from the entertainment or sports world.

My Italian heritage obligates me to mention Frank Sinatra and Joe DiMaggio as legends, although I’m fairly certain few could argue even if they’re opposed to our vowel-ending surnames and penchant for Camaros and Chianti. Some of the few names that you can toss in the same ring might be Elvis Presley, John Lennon and Muhammad Ali. And, well…you get the point; there aren’t really all that many names. Screwy as he may have acted in his personal life, when you look at the world wide popularity and lifetime success that the man had for 45 of his 50 years – Michael Jackson quite possibly could have been the most famous, and legendary celebrity we’ve ever known.

I caught the end of a news report on the radio (yes, really, on the radio) late yesterday afternoon – and it was one of those AP feeds that was a little choppy, and the reporter was reading off bits of information as they got them. He’d been transported to UCLA Medical Center, possible cardiac arrest, pause, no further information, it sounded serious and important, but as the feed was going along, and as I had tuned in after it began, it was a full minute or so before they repeated who they were talking about. I was surprised when they said Michael Jackson.

Checking online back at the office I read a little more and then caught a story stating he was in a coma. A bit after 5:30pm I received an e-mail headline from All Access (a radio industry newsletter) that Michael Jackson was dead.

I’m not going to bullshit anyone that I was a big fan – but I would never deny his talent and influence, and always liked some of his songs. But, like most people my age – I too sort of grew up with his music and videos, and, frankly, found a few of his foibles somewhat entertaining. Yes, he was 50 – but you never thought of him being 50 – you thought of him as a life long child – so it made his passing all that much more shocking.

I was going to call Chrissy and tell her, but then thought it might upset her and didn’t want to be the one to do that. She called me about a half hour later – and was crying. I didn’t quite expect for her to be as sad as she was, but then realized as she’s so much more of a child of the ‘80’s than I (yes, she’s waaay younger than I) it was somewhat more devastating to her than me. Guess I sort of fell between the Elvis and Michael Jackson generation.

Everyone is, and rightfully so, posting and showing some of his greatest hits in remembrance. In fairness, I could tell you that I distinctly recall hearing “Beat It” for the first time. Interestingly, I heard it on a certain rock radio station, that several years later I was hired to work for. Also interestingly, I learned years later that that certain station got in major trouble for playing the song off a radio promo almost a week before it was approved for air by the record company (Release date was 2/14/83). Seems that the PD wanted to play the song ahead of time since Eddie Van Halen was featured on the song, and Van Halen was a core artist for the station.

Not the only great song with a legendary guitarist – I always enjoyed the song and video for “Black or White” with Slash.

Some of Boneheads favorite Michael Jackson songs and videos are “Smooth Criminal” – mainly because the very talented young Junior Miss Giddy did a great dance number in competitions and recitals to the song when she was an even younger Junior Miss. I also always got a kick out of the video for “Leave Me Alone” because I always appreciate when somebody can poke fun at themselves in a public forum, and I always felt he sort of did this in the video for this song. My all time favorite though is “Scream” – and not just because it’s a duet with his hot sister.

Now is not the time to focus on the sometimes strange actions of a man who lived his entire life in the public eye and was left open to intense daily scrutiny. It’s time to be a little sad for the passing of a talented man whose early death may have ultimately been the result of just that.

Just to satisfy my own curiosity, and to be sure that I wasn’t thinking out of school, I checked our own tube of chewy chocolaty chip Toll House Cookies. As I had suspected – there, plain as day, were explicit directions on how to COOK the cookie dough. It involved baking the product in the oven prior to consumption. Any oven is fine, so long as you turn it on. Again, presumably to cook the product.

This is just a glaring example of a company caving to the constant threats of the litigious society that we exist in. Did anyone stop to think that most e-coli and salmonella bacteria are easily killed off when confronted with the angry heat of an oven or stovetop? Why would you eat something that’s obviously filled with chemicals and preservatives, then molded into a tube and swaddled in a chemically enhanced plastic wrapping without cooking the shit first? You deserve a case of the squirts for being an asshole in the first place.

Don’t take your stupidity to the news media looking for sympathy because your fucking tummy hurts. You ate raw mass produced product – you’re supposed to cook it. Even the name of the product makes it seem blatantly obvious – COOKies.

The FDA has a very vivid description of E. coli on their website (albeit without pictures for the folks in Alabama) telling everyone and their brother that it is a potentially deadly bacterium that can cause bloody diarrhea, dehydration and, in the most severe cases, kidney failure. Sounds like a great way to spend a Friday evening – get me a spoon and some raw cookie dough and sign me up.

Apparently Nestle is cooperating fully with the FDA on their investigation. I can just imagine their chief competitor – the Pillsbury Dough Boy laughing his ass off and calling the executives at Nestle a bunch of wimp-ass pussies for recalling their tubed product because a batch of inbred brainless morons decided to wolf it down before it ever had a fair chance to become cookies.

To read more rants and raves go to http://boneheadreview.blogspot.com/