Here is a list of the proteins I’ve tried: Muscletech Nitrotech, Optimum nutrition 100% whey, Dymatize Elite, Prolab Advanced Whey, Isopure (low carb), Integrated 100% WPI,

Man, I love Alec Baldwin, and I thought the best bit that he was apart of was the staring contest he had with George Clooney. My favorite stare down between the two happened when Alec was going to list off the nominees for Best Performance and abruptly cut himself off, staring blankly down at George for just enough time and with enough silence to make it awkwardly hilarious. He was all I could pay attention to when he was on stage, with his seemingly uncaring face and sporadic hand gestures.

Steve Martin’s innocent quips were humorous at times, calling one nominee Damn Helen Mirren instead of Dame, with Alec correcting him afterwords, but I thought the two lacked the chemistry that I see exemplified every episode of 30 rock between Alec and Tina Fey.  The best dressed was Vera Farmiga, worst dressed has to go to Charlize Theron, best acceptance speech was that Austrian dude from Inglorious Basterds at the very beginning and best presenter of the night I thought was Tom Hanks. I am also pleased to see Demi Moore is still hot as ever.

I have never stopped ordering it.

I still remember that frightful afternoon years ago when I learned that the Cheesy Gordita Crunch (CGC) was going to be discontinued from the Taco Bell menu. Why, I thought, would they end the reign of such a delicious and fulfilling item, arguably their best non-burrito creation? Weeks went by without at trip to the Bell, as my desire vanished like the cheesy middle between the hard and soft shell tacos, until one day I decided to venture back. Out of habit, and possibly scorn, I presented my order as usual: One chalupa, one gordita and one cheesy gordita crunch.  The staff shuffled as normal and produced my order, not missing a beat.

Elated I devoured my food and spread the word to everyone I knew. Subsequent trips followed suit and it wasn’t until a manager handled my order that I understood the reason why my orders weren’t rejected.  I presented my selection and he smiled as he punched in the order.

“Ya know,” he started, “I have to make this for you even though we don’t have it on the menu anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“As long as there is this button on the register, I have to make it for you.”  His smile changed to something more sinister as he pointed to a button that I couldn’t see and kept bobbing his hand up and down just long enough to make it uncomfortable, like this button was the reason his girlfriend left him and he still lived with his parents.

“Well I’m glad that button still exists.”

He passed me my receipt with a look of disdain and I hurriedly stepped to the fountain drink machine, out of arms length. There I waited for the deliciousness to come, hoping that he didn’t secretly blame Mountain Dew for killing his goldfish.

As good as the sandwiches are from the Shoppe, it couldn’t beat out my favorite spot, stay tuned to find out where you can get the best sandwich in New York City.

I once heard that someone ate 6 in a single sitting. I also heard that you can shoot a flaming shot of Sambuca without burning yourself, or that water slides can’t possibly cause you bodily harm. And Unicorns like to Salsa.

Gary kept telling me over the phone as we were making plans that this guy had a cult following, which interestingly enough was comprised dually of himself and his boss at work. He wanted to introduce me to this poet in hopes of recruiting a third cult member. I wasn’t quiet sure what to expect but I’m pretty sure after seeing him perform I wouldn’t hesitate to take up the third leg of the Bingo Gazingo tripod.

I got to the Poetry club just in time to miss the rain and to see Bingo begin his performance. Gary wasn’t kidding; aside from the three of us, there wasn’t a single other person in the club. I was never asked for my $3 cover charge and figured the place had pity on anyone who was here and sat down as he started his first ballet about J-lo and the affect she has had on his heart. Between his moans and mumbles I discerned a pattern of rhymes on the name J-lo like Hey-lo, Fay-lo and for a minute thought that they had pulled a homeless man off the street to fill 20 minutes before the next act. He then moved effortlessly to a poem about Beyonce which actually was sort of interesting and provided for my favorite line of the evening: “Beyonce, you are my Champs-Elysee, I love you, I love you.”

The Bowery Poetry club reminded me of my Fraternity and the eloquent rush dinners we would put on in our band/party room. We would line up those plastic granite tables end to end and surround them with those cheap black chairs you might see at cheap banquet halls. There were three rows of of this assortment, a jumble of chairs on stage that reminded me of an unused high school classroom during the summer and a nice chalk mural on one wall. I don’t think it cost to much to throw everything together.

The last poem was about a stalker between the yellow lines of a road who never gave up chasing UFO’s or something like that, I dunno, I sort of lost consciousness at that point. Seemingly unsatisfied with himself, his 20 minutes were up and he nonetheless had to end his performance and was helped off the stage by the sound tech. He slowly made his way through the tables and past his audience trio. I stood up and shook his hand, not sure what I was expecting to happen, hesitant that anything I might say would open a floodgate of profane and wet verbal carnage.  Gary, seemingly familiar with Bingo’s eccentricity, wanted a picture to commemorate the moment, giving his daughter his camera and jumping next to him expecting him to stop. Oblivious to everything at this point, Bingo proceeded to trod along despite Gary’s attempts to get in the same frame for his picture. As I watched this slow and painful process I noticed Bingo kept his sullen gaze directed towards the shimmering light that was trying to escape between these two large plush curtains at the end of the bar. On the other side of these curtains was the exit, and as he made his way to the light and disappeared through the curtains, I have no doubt at that point Bingo envisioned being birthed by Madonna.

P.S. I Love You.

Mean Girls.

Up.

What are these you might ask? Is this a list of my girlfriend’s favorite movies? A top-ten of the greatest chick flicks? There are only four, first of all, but I need to discuss something with the 6 of you reading this. Why did I stay up hugging my pillow tonight when I was watching the first movie Why did I allow almost 20 minutes to go by while I watched the second? What was appealing to me about Mean Girls that I couldn’t find on the internet? Why did I tear up multiple times during Pixar’s latest adventure of an old man and a chubby boy scout? Fuck man, where did the days go where I yearned for explosions and martial art kung-fu fighting and non stop 100% pure adrenaline found only with a cast of Keanu Reeves, Gary Busey or both.

Maybe because I watched the first two by myself I felt free of criticism, although I had to stop P.S. I Love You because after Gerard died it was draining my testosterone. Mean Girls had hot girls talking about Taco Bell. Up was an all around fantastic film, and my friends who watched it with me also admitted some man tears at the end. I really liked Definitely, Maybe and I will fight you if you disagree. Man-Crush on Ryan Reynolds? Possibly.

Entourage is still awesome and arguably the best show on Television. I still polish my Point Break collection every morning. The bench press is still my favorite exercise. I love beer. But what am I to make of these, these changes in my movie preferences? I no longer want to watch movies with senseless violence and death. I am solely drawn to positive and meaningful material, made better if I can relate to it. I want to be inspired, or laugh, or feel like yeah, I’ve been there too. Speaking of which, I loved every one of M. Night’s films with the huge exception of The Happening.

So maybe this change isn’t something I should fear. My manhood is still intact, and I imagine it happens to plenty of maturing adults. We’ll see where it takes me for the rest of the Summer Blockbusters.