codifying the theory

Upon reviewing my last entry, I realized that I did a poor, if not terrible job, of explaining my theorietical justification for not ever planning on learning how to cook. So here, being that I now work at a law firm, I will attempt to clarify and codify the theory. I'm pretty sure that codify is the wrong word here, but I am enjoying using it.

We will now refer to the theory as "The NON-COOKING JUSTIFICATION THEORY", and it will be stated as follows: "A male is justified in not cooking, nor ever attempting to cook, if he meets the following two qualifications:
1) He must be able to afford to buy food from a professional chef or store.
2) He must not be a better or more skilled cook than said professional chef or store.
First, notice that this theory only applies to male humans. If you are female, this theory will not exempt you from attempting to learn the art that is cooking.
I arrived at this theory based on the rational presented in the previous entry. Once again, that rational stated that we should not cook our own food, just like we are not expected to make our own clothing. Implicit in this logic is the 2 conditions mentioned above - that we can afford to buy our own clothes (and food), and that we cannot do a better job making our own. If we cannot afford it, then we should do it in a cheaper way...i.e-make the food. And similarly, if we can make it better ourselves, we should do that. Otherwise, however, there is simply no excuse.

So for me- i fit into both conditions. 1) I can (thankfully) afford to buy my food, rather than spend time laboring in the kitchen. I hate laboring, but I love labor day, and that is somewhat of a paradox. In any event, I'm not trying to brag here and say that I can afford lavish meals at prime grill every day, but I can afford the empire packages of turkey bologna, chicken bologna, and just plain bologna (pronounced Bah-low-knee). Again, the clothing comparison comes into play here...we buy our clothes, even if not everything we buy is the most expensive of things. We will buy some banana republic, some gap, and some old navy. Sure, I'll have the occasional steak dinner, but I'll also mix in plenty of gross empire deli. And that is no excuse to attempt the art of cooking, unless of course, my cooking would be superior to the gross deli.

All this talk about bologna reminds me of one good Rav Hirsch("Rav H") story from my days in the University of Yeshiva. One time Rav H made us a party in shiur because we had finished something. I can't remember exactly what, but I know it was talmudic. Anyway, there was a plate of pastrami, a plate of corned beef, and a plate of bologna. Obviously, everyone went straight for the first 2 superior meats, and everyone just ignored the plate of bologna. The entire pile was just sitting there, and it was getting Rav H upset. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore, and he gave it to us. "It's a Bizzayon to the bologna!!!" he shouted.
It was indeed.

the cooking disability.

Let me start by saying that I actually wrote this rant on some sheets of paper at my law firm orientation some time last week. I'm not gonna mention the name of the law firm, b/c then it will somehow get back to the head honchos (or regular honchos), and they will find out that instead of paying attention to their interesting words and advice, I was writing a rant about how I have no idea how to cook food and trying to justify this "disability" somehow. They will then go through my desk and find these sheets of paper on which I wrote this very rant, and they will use it against me and fire me for being a bad worker. They will then sell the rant at one of those auctions once I become famous in 31 years.

The reason I wrote this rant was because I was thinking about shabbos last thursday. Don't get the wrong idea folks- this does not mean that I am a super-pious person that thinks about Shabbos all week long or anything of that sort. In fact, we all know (or maybe just a few of us) that the proper time to begin thinking about the Sabbath is during the Shir Shel Yom Prayer of the Wed-ness-day Morning service, and this is the reason we say "L'Chu N'Ranenah". But to be honest, I'm not thinking like that at all, I'm usually thinking somethig to the effect of "Why is davening so long" or "i'd rather be asleep right now". Nevertheless, on thursday- especially late thursday- it is definetly time to start thinking about Shabbos, at least in regards to Shabbos plans.

I decided to go to the Upper West Side ("UWS") to the Steen family. Everyone should visit them as they are a nice group of young men. Now of course, the main issue with this: Meals- what would we do for them, who would cook them, etc. Luckily, everyone else involved basically took care of every type of food item, and I was left buying scotch as a contribution, but only because I felt guilty for not contributing anything else. And this cooking-associated guilt is something I've struggled with for quite some time now. IN Penn, it is the same deal. Everyone- male and female alike - contribute and cook foodstuffs, and I am usually either buying beer, scotch, or paper plates. Sometimes I buy the nicer paper plates, but I still feel like a jerk for eating all the food that everyone else made.

This cooking "disability" has hurt me in other ways, and the most recent example occured a mere 2 weeks ago at home in Western Hempstead. It was just me and Abba for Shabbos, and neither of us were gonna cook anything. Such being the case, Mom provided me with a list of things to buy from Gourmet Glatt so that we can have food to eat. One crucial item on the list was a BBQ chicken - cut into quarters. It all sounded easy enough, but when I got to the counter, the guy told me the BBQ chickens were too hot to be cut right now b/c as he put it
"We only sell fresh chicken". In my head I thought : "This guy is bragging about BBQ chicken...that is bizzare". Anyway, I told him that Mom had insisted on it being cut into quarters and I would not buy it unless that was the case. He finally complied with my annoying pleadings, only to BURN HIS HAND. I wouldn't have ever noticed this, b/c I don't pay attention to the hardship or pain of anyone else but myself, but he made a point of mentioning this to me. Upon handing me my BBQ Chicken, cut into quarters, he stated: "You are a little spoiled Jew, and I am a poor Spaniard. I burnt my hand off cutting your chicken into quarters. I wish you would have cut it yourself, but you have no real skills." I think he went a little over the top here, but the moral of this whole story, is that if I was simply able to cook- this whole awkward type of guilt would be completely avoided.

So why don't I cook, and why won't I ever cook? By the way, this goes for baking, broiling, boiling, grilling, and anything else done in the kitchen as well. One answer for this behavior, as told to me by Abba, is that just like we don't make our own clothes, but rather purchase them from a professional store, the same should be true (or can be true) with our food. Why should we try and cook our own food, when it would taste much better if we leave it to the pros. Now there are many counter-arguments to this line of reasoning, but it works pretty well in my individual case, b/c I would be a terrible cook. I once tried to make eggs, and they just stuck to the pan. Maybe its because i forgot oil or something. So for someone like me, it makes sense to leave cooking to the pros. As a side note, I do know of a woman who makes her own clothes for her family instead of buying them from a store. I do not condone this behavior.

Another thing I hear from people is that girls will like me better, or it would be a great quality to have to know how to cook for the dames I am taking out on dates. I don't like hearing this at all, even if it may be completely true. I don't like to think about what these dates would be like, b/c I associate them with candle-lit dinners, and where am I gonna get candle sticks? Also, do i really want to date a girl who wants me to cook her big plates of spaghetti or pasta or whatever it is you people like to eat? Does anyone want to date this spaghetti-wanting type? NO- none of us do; in fact, we'd probably just want the opposite, for the girls to make us big meals of steaks, and then to cut them for us and feed it into our mouths like Julius Ceaser gets fed from his servants. So what I am really doing by refusing to cook is coming to terms with the truth and being honest about myself and my wants. And honesty is the best policy... or maybe not, being that I am single.

more weird sleeping habits

When we last spoke, I was discussing how I would much rather be freezing cold and be wrapped in my blankets, then be boiling hot, and have to sleep without any blankets. This got me thinking about all my other strange sleeping habits and I have decided to finally share them with the reading public. Without further ado...
I was never a solid sleeper and that means that I always had trouble going to sleep/staying asleep/sleeping through noise/ etc. I don't know when this problem actually began, but according to reports from my parents, it took them hours to get me to fall asleep as a young baby. I first remember having trouble falling asleep by myself at around age 3 or 4, and I think this problem was closely associated with watching things on TV that I shouldn't be watching. For example, I saw the horror movie "It" when I was 3, and this made me afraid of clowns forever. As a side note, I wouldn't go to parties if there were clowns present. I don't know why every kid insisted on having a clown at their party. I had a magician at my 5 year old party and it was much more enjoyable for everyone, especially when he did this trick on a lady there and got her bra off somehow without removing her shirt. I knew this was inappropriate even at the young age of 5, but I found it humerous. I wish that magician could teach me this trick now, as it could prove to be helpful.

Anyway, so I was afraid of clowns, and I also saw Freddy Krueger # 3 on TV, and that just made my sleeping problems worse. B/c if you know the premise of Freddy Krueger, he is a guy that kills you in your dreams, and so I was always worried that he would come into my dream and kill me! As it turns out, the only people that appear in my dreams are girls I know, and when I try to give them a kiss, they tell me to go away and they run away cackling like witches.

I got over my fear of going to sleep by forcing Abba to lie on the floor next to me every night and tell me stories until i fell asleep. These were very bizzare stories about either Rambo, or Mario and Luigi... but not all three of them together. I will not get into the details of these stories here, as I will save that for another time. Anyway, the problem is that even though I was able to fall asleep with the help of Abba and his interesting stories, I would still wake up about 4 hours later and then I'd be screwed for the rest of my mind, b/c I would talk myself into a state of panic that I will now no longer be able to fall back asleep. I would then think about every small thing I have to do the next day, and worry about how tired I am going to be and how I won't be able to do anything effectively. The weird thing is that I didn't have anything very strenous to do the next day at such a young age. What was I so stressed about? Not being able to build blocks well in nursery bet?

This problem did not go away quickly or easily. Until age 13, I would bring my pillow and blanket into my parents' room (note proper placing of apostrophe), and sleep on the floor for the latter part of the night. This cured me, but if we logically analyze it, it is hard to understand why
If I was concerned with Freddy Krueger killing me in my dream, then I could still have had that dream while sleeping on my parents' floor. And if it was robbers I was concerned with (as i later was), then they could still kill me-no matter what room I was in. Whatever...the point is that it made me feel better and helped me sleep, and that I [ersisted in this behavior until age 13.

Sometimes the truth hurts, and sometimes i lie when i write these rants. So the truth is, that this problem actually continues...right now-to my current age of 23. I am on the floor right now and am writing this rant. My parents are bothered by the clicking sound, and the IM noise. Happy Mothers Day.

the air up here

Last night at around 2 am, I was getting ready for my sleep ritual (which is composed of sleeping), when I encountered my mom walking around the upstairs level of our two story dwelling in west hempstead NY. Now this was strange because only me and my sister live on this floor of the house, and my sister is in Israel right now. So I was a bit startled to hear somebody's footsteps outside my door. It turned out that my Mom was upstairs to turn on the AC. This made me ask myself: Why would my Mom wake up in the middle of the night to come upstairs and turn on the AC...if I wanted it on, I could turn it on, and if not, I could leave it off. The answer to this puzzling riddle turns out to be that Abba likes the the temp. on the warm and cozy side, while Mom likes it on the cold and chilly side. Therefore, with my sister's room available for sleep comfort, Mom decided to go upstairs and crank up the AC, providing for a nice cold climate.

Now this all seems like a bit of craziness, but I do understand it. When I am on my first date with females, I usually like to open up with something like this: So...would u rather be really hot in bed, or really cold? Some more uptight females do not like this question because it has the word "bed" in it, but I think it needs to be asked...especially if you plan on getting married to this person that you are on your first date with. B/c what happens if you get married to a person that likes to be warm/hot, and you are a person that likes to be cold/cold. The answer is that one of you is gonna kill the other one so that you can sleep in comfort. And that is not good.

I'm definetly one of those people that likes to be on the cold side, and not only that, but I cannot even understand those people that are in the hot-camp. If you are cold, you get to wrap yourself in the blanket and pretend you are a little baby again, being wrapped in one of those small towels after you take a bath in the sink. I love that feeling. BUT- if you like to be warm, then when you put the covers on, you will be even MORE warm until you start to sweat, and I don't like that feeling. What is the only way to circumvent this isssue? Remove the blankets? That is a terrible solution. Blankets are an essential part of the sleeping process, and it baffles me that people would rather remove them and remain warm, then wrap themselves in them and be cold.
You people make me sick.

stressful things that shouldn't be stressful

Many people have been wondering if this rant was dead, and I thought it was, but alas! I have decided to once again post some bizzare, angry, and incoherent thoughts about nothing in particular. ..

There are three things that I am constantly thinking about now that school is out (for summmmahhhh) and work has yet to begin. I am in the midst of what should be a 2 week worry-free vacation, but instead I am torturing myself with constantly thinking about these 3 topics, yet doing very little to handle them.

1) Buying clothes so that I look like a normal human being at work:

A couple weeks ago, the law firm that is employing me sent me a whole letter about which clothes are OK and which clothes are not OK. The firm has a "business casual" dress code, and of course that leaves lots of room for interpretation. Most of the things on this list really only applied to girls- such as no halter tops, or tube tops, or tank tops...or is it tang-tops. Whatever. Does any male actually know the difference between these three similar types of tops? As for things on the list that applied to me, they said that sideburns and facial hair should be kept trim and neat, which practically means that I will spend 282 hours in the mirror trying to make sure that my side burns are aligned perfectly. Of course, who are we kidding here- I'm using an electric shaver, and there will always be that one hair left on the face, and I expect a partner to come up to me and rip it out, and then spit in my face and fire me on the spot.
And what is with this whole business casual dress code anyway...I wish that the "casual" level of doing things also applied to the quality of work we can do. I'll do some crappy job on my first memo and spill some coffee on it, maybe wrinkle up the pages a bit, and hand it in to the partner. He'll say..Great Job Sunny Boy...this is a very casual level of work, It is not excellent, it appears that you just casually did it while looking at boxscores on espn. Great!" In Jewish circles, I would refer to this as the "B'dieved standard of work". It should be implemented immedietly.

2) Moving out of my apt in Philly:
This is a pain in the A. I have some great qualities (at least that is what my Mom tells me), but one of them is not my physical strength. I do sometimes go to a gym and lift 15 pd. weights, but that is about it. Therefore, it might be quite difficult for me to figure out how to move 2 beds, 1 dresser, 1 night table, 1 book shelf, and 1 desk out of my mice-infested craphole. I need to find another person to move this stuff with me, so if any of you out there are interested, I will pay some good cash. Well, probably only 100 bucks. But that might be good cash to some of my poverty stricken readers. Some people have suggested that I just find a man on the street and offer him money to help me move. That suggestion makes me uncomfortable. Do you want to know why? I don't care if you do. The reason is b/c most of the "street folk" in Western Philadelphia are of african american descent. Once I start asking them to move my heavy furniture I will begin to feel much like a slave driver, especially if they start singing ancient african tunes. Now, I would pay them after the task is over, but I would still feel quite racist, and I dont want to feel racist, b/c then I am worried that the african americans will sense that I feel racist and actually label me as one. And then they will surrond me and beat me. This is much the same way I feel when I ask for "dark meat" at the lines in the Hillel in UPENN. The workers are black, and I always try to ask for a "bottom" or a "leg" or a "thigh". But they somehow never understand what I am saying until i am forced to say "DARK MEAT...just like the color of your skin!!!" And then it is just a bad scene man. Trust me.

3)Apartment searching in NYC.
This is an even bigger pain in the A, but I seem to have found a place for a decent price. The furniture situation is a little rough, but I think it will all work out just great! or not. probably not actually. In any event, this apartment searching business has just turned me into an animal of sorts. An apartment hunting animal. To demonstrate the negative impact that this has had on my normally pristine middos... I recently contacted a lady about getting her studio for the summer in the upper west side. She was charging a hefty amount, but it was a good location and i was willing to take it. Then she told me that the reason she is subletting is b/c she is going to the hospital and will probably return by June 3oth. She also said that it could be a longer stay or she could move in with her mother for a bit of time while I stayed in her studio. My response to this was the following:
"Man, I really hope this lady stays in the hospital for a long time, so i could get this studio."
Woe is me! BUt it is not me that is evil, it is the apartment searching game that has turned me into this. Woe is the apartment searching!