...For the very first time

Allow me to apologize for not posting my Superbowl recap sooner. I know that you've come to expect only the finest and promptest football coverage from this blog.

Yesterday, I arrived at my friend's apartment about 30 minutes before the kick off and learned which teams were playing- The New Orleans Saints and the Indianapolis Colts. I didn't know which team to root for. As a fan of U.S. gymnastics, Indianapolis holds a special place in my heart since Kim Zmeskal won her world all around title there, a first for the Americans. On the other hand, residual Katrina guilt made me want to root for the Saints. Not that I thought I a Superbowl victory would cure the ills of a city that drowned in the past decade, but at the very least, they could stick the trophy into the levy to plug a hole, like the little Dutch boy did by sticking his finger into the dike.

So I was torn. And also clueless as to how the game is played. One of the revelers spent a lot of time explaining what a first down is. I promised to reciprocate in 2012. I told him I would explain the gymnastics Code of Points during the Summer Games. I thought this was more than fair but he passed on the offer.

Since the Colts were the first on the scoreboard, I jumped on their bandwagon even though the Saints' had prettier uniforms. Of course, I was forced to switch to the other team after halftime when it became obvious that the Colts would not win. But their likely victory was not the only reason I now favored a Saints win. It was because their quarterback is a lot hotter.

But the highlight of my Superbowl experience had to be the food. At halftime, the host ordered pizza from Domino's. I had never before had Domino's (or any fast food for that matter) and I was quite excited to finally taste this little slice of Americana.

The pizza boxes looked just like they did on television but the pizza inside- it was smaller than I expected. And the crust was fluffy, like a cake, not crisp the way God intended it. I can't comment on the cheesy bread cause I didn't get any. Sigh.

When I told my fellow party goers that I was slightly disappointed by my first Domino's experience, they told it was normal, that the pizza isn't particularly good but not so bad that you don't order again. After all, it is pizza. And as the saying goes, "Pizza is like bad sex. Even when it's done bad, it's still good." Or something like that.

Pre-pubescent delivery boy not included.

Camel Milk Chocolate

So it seems that my laxity in kashrut has its limits- camel milk chocolate.

Would you suck on her teat?

I was leaving the Union Square subway stop yesterday when I noticed a sign for "Milk Chocolate."I saw a man handing out free samples. I bounded over, eager for a piece, and that's when I noticed a word above "milk."

Camel.

As in camel milk. Now many of you know I eat "out" vegetarian food in un-hechshered restaurants. I don't ask too many questions. I don't care if my pizza was in the oven next to a slab of bacon and is therefore covered in bacon essence because bacon essence is delicious.

But camel milk chocolate? I rode a camel when I was in Israel. It's a nasty animal and Hollywood has yet to make it cuddly and likable in a film. I'd sooner eat pig milk chocolate. At least pigs have a long history of being cute- from Charlotte's Web to Babe.

Contains 10% camel spit

Dvora, Defined

According to the Urban Dictionary, dvora means:

a hot stupid bitch, who laughs a lot and doesnt understand too much with a girly/kiddie sense of fashion, very confused all the time, but still cooler then you'll ever be, she is a total bimp/cheesecake

I do laugh a lot but I'm not sure what a "bimp" is though possible definitions include "butt pimple." Oh well, at least they called me hot.

But when I think of Dvora or dvora, Devorah or devorah, I tend to think of this:


You've all been warned!

Srugim at the JCC plus bar night

I wrote this post over at Jewschool last week about the upcoming screenings of the Israeli television show, Srugim over at the JCC on 76th and Amsterdam, which is set to start tonight

Since the program does not air on any channel in the U.S., I was forced to download it illegally on the Internet thus opening my computer up to a whole host of viral threats. But it was definitely worth it.

While I'm still forced to endanger my hard drive in order to keep current (I am now in the midst of the second season and unwilling to wait till it comes out on DVD) those of you just getting into the first should go check it out. I can't imagine a better opportunity to pick up a guy/girl- while watching a show on the Upper West Side about religious singles struggling to meet their bashert on Israel's equivalent of the Upper West. How meta of us!

The look on his face says it all

B-boy Meen187

Check out the article I wrote about b-boy Meen187 at TheCypher. This particular b-boy has a special connection to the Jewish community. He was featured holding a box of matzah last Passover on this blog (and on the Jew and the Carrot).

Make It Up As We Go Along or Break It?

At the start of the New Year, I wrote about my not so secret but very guilty pleasure- the ABC Family show, Make It Or Break It, which chronicles the travails, both athletic and romantic, of gymnasts supposedly en route to the Olympics in 2012. In that post, I acknowledged that the show was lackluster on nearly every level- from the writing to the acting and even the gymnastics, which any true gym fan knows wouldn't be rewarded with an NCAA scholarship, much less an Olympic medal.

On the International Gymnast website, Dwight Normile is similarly critical of the show. He cites not just the level of the gymnastics but the paucity of it- just 20 seconds in a recent episode- and the reliance on implausible soap opera plots to sustain the show.

Now while I don't disagree with any of Mr. Normile's critiques, I do have a bit of a bone to pick with him. He's been the editor of arguably the best gymnastics magazine in the world for several years. I received my subscription for the magazine as a bat mitzvah gift from my therapist (yes, you read that right) at the age of 12 and continued to receive it until the end of college. It was also one of the first places where my writing was published (0utside of my high school newspaper that is). Missing this monthly bulletin, I signed up for a subscription last year, which I have since let lapse a few months ago. I don't plan to renew.

Why? Because the quality of the magazine has gone down over the years. Where I once used to pore over every word, I stopped reading and just looked at the photos. The writers have remained largely the same and the way in which they present the sport and the athletes has not changed either. Perhaps it's time to invigorate the magazine with new writers and perspectives. Because it is rather rich of Mr. Normile to fault the show for trafficking in gymnastics cliches when his own magazine has been telling the same exact stories year after year. If a publication devoted to the sport can't find new stories or ideas within gymnastics, how can one possibly demand that a bunch of producers and writers, most of whom possess little knowledge the marquee Olympic event to do any better? If IG can't make life in the gym seem interesting by writing about something other than the devoted, hardworking gymnast, then why shouldn't MIOBI strain believability by sending the girls to LA. At least that adds a dash of excitement.

I know that in Ecclesiastes it is written,"There is nothing new under the sun," and that all content is derivative, etc. but it should be possible to tell tweak the formula to tell seemingly new stories or at least more interesting stories.