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The Top 5 things to look for in a Long Term Relationship

Me and my Wookie. No reasons. Everyone likes the dog.
Me and my Wookie. No reasons. Everyone likes the dog.

NOTE: I’m knee-deep in baby love…and poop…and I couldn’t be happier. I earned the right to get peed on by my 15-day-old son by never settling, rather, I stumbled upon these 5 rules when I stumbled upon the love of my life. 

NOTE: Thick into the weeds, things get gender-specific, but the big 5 bullet points are universal. Enjoy! -JER

For the past year or so on the show, I’ve repeated something over, and over…and over…and maybe I should put it in writing.

The Top 5 things to look for in a Long-Term Relationship

The short version is:

5) Physical attraction

4) Things in Common/Values in Common & No Deal Breakers

3) They’re Smart

2) They’re Kind

1) They’re Sane

5) Physical Attraction

As men and women go, this varies a bit; men tend to, “fall in love,” with their eyes, while women tend to do so with their ears. That said, it doesn’t matter that the value of looks follows the law of finishing returns. And it also doesn’t matter that this one goes without saying.

4) Things in Common/Values in Common & No Deal Breakers

Hear me loud and clear:

If you have a deep-seeded belief and your love interest does not, or has the opposite belief, walk away.

There is no getting around this, and many divorces could have been avoided if people followed this rule (as well as the other ones!). Other articles will get into why a desperation-mind set is a recipe for disaster, why you cannot tell if you love someone for at least six months, and many other picadillos that drive me up the wall (because I did them myself back when I didn’t know any better). But for now, this rule is an attempt to quantify the unquantifable, to put words to that special, “thing,” that made you decide not to call that guy back after two decent dates.

Things in Common

Yes, fellas, she has huge boobs, red lips and you visit Valhalla every time you make sweet love down by the fire. But your conversations just..go..nowhere. She talks about her stupid friend Becky and how she can’t stand her. Read this over and over, fellas; you will get bored of sleeping with her. AGAIN. You will get bored having sex with her.

So many dumbass bros are so happy to have a hottie on their arm that they put a ring on it.

Ladies, you aren’t immune to this either. You got the high school quarterback, and…

No amount of monkey business from barely-employed losers at your high school reunion are going to change the fact that you married the wrong person because you thought you knew him, and you didn’t. You will not run out of things to talk about as long as your values stay the same and your relationship has a solid foundation of friendship. If you don’t have both of those, use birth control. Please.

My wife and I love Disneyland, love most of the same television shows (but not all), love Las Vegas, wine country and golf. We love old-timey jazz and get giddy about the new Star Wars movie every year in equal amounts of enthusiasm. We get equal joy out of staying in and cooking and the occasional quiet night out. We adore our dog, love each other’s friends (mostly), and most of all, gain the greatest pleasure holding our newborn son.

Let’s talk age; although my wife is 7 years younger than me, we are both on the same page of life, and that one is crucial too. People who think age is a state off mind as a reason to date someone three times their age in order to exercise the Parental-Abandonment demons are hopelessly misguided, and they miss the point; it’s not so much age, but what age tends to correlate with (but not cause) is station in life. You want the same things at the same time.

Settle for nothing else. Never settle. Pilgrims settle. You’re not a pilgrim.

Values In Common/No Deal Breakers

If you are a religious Christian, stay off of J-Date. If you are an pro-life activist, you aren’t going to talk a left-wing feminist into seeing things your way over martinis. If you think the Earth is 6,000 years old, stick to someone who shares your sincere beliefs that the Grand Canyon was formed by Noah’s flood.

While we’re at it, if you’re dating online (and if you aren’t, guess what? YOU’RE THE FREAK NOW!) put your values and deal-breakers up front. Don’t swipe right if you hate guns and the dude has a hunting rifle in his hands (though, if his finger is on the trigger, swipe right, message him, “FINGER OFF THE TRIGGER,” then delete him).

You are not James Carville and Mary Matalin, and besides, they are the exception to the rule that proves it (they are both Catholic, they have that in common, plus they love to argue. Do you? Really?). Everyone thinks that they are the exception to the rule. You must operate under the the (correct) notion that you are not special. You will not win the lottery. The house always wins in Vegas; they don’t build those giant (awesome) monstrosities on the strip because they might win. The same principle applies. Reality on realities terms.

My wife and I are both non-religious and share similar and comparable political thought. We follow the golden rule and treat each other as we would want the other to treat us. Her dreams of life and mine are compatible, but they are not always the same; I strive to be a writer, voice-over actor and podcast host; she wants to start a business and someday raise horses. We both want to build a house that we will some day die in. We disagree on some matter of divorce law and culture, but respect each other, agree to disagree where we must, and change the conversation.

3) They’re Smart

Perhaps a better way of putting this is that they share your level of intelligence. I have dated dumb girls, and I have dated high-IQ brainiacs. Neither of them worked. The former meant I had nothing in common with them except for bedroom antics, and the latter? Well, full disclosure; I’m rolling the dice that my wife is smarter than I am. Not only am I okay with that, I love it, as a matter of fact. But fellas, you will not have a long-term happy relationship if she’s a do-do-head. I don’t care if she looks like Angelina Jolie. And ladies, he may look like Brad Pitt, but…stop it you will get bored. Even the two of them got bored with each other eventually. You do not want to breed with a dummy. You won’t be happy, and Mike Judge’s, “Idiocracy,” will happen:

2) They’re Kind

You know what sucks, fellas? Having the woman you married and once loved call you a, “f—king loser,” even though all you wanted to do was spend some time with your best friend Dave who you haven’t seen in over a year because your witch of a wife demands all of your time and either doesn’t give a damn about your feelings, or worse, can’t.

You know what also sucks, ladies? When that silverback gorilla that you couldn’t resist 3 year years ago is beating the ever-loving-crap out of out of you while cheating on you and you just sink further and further into denial and escalation of commitment (I can’t quit now, I have so much invested!).

Ladies, Gentlemen, it’s not men vs women. It’s all of us decent human beings against the abusers, physical and otherwise.

I have dated some truly horrible human beings and all I can tell you is that they make me grateful to be married to the SNGal and even more grateful that I didn’t knock any of them up. Sweet beautiful Jesus, thank God for birth control.

Kindness means that they will stand up for themselves and not take any of your crap when you screw up, but show compassion and love when you are emotionally vulnerable.

They don’t hit you, and for the love of god, their default setting in conflict isn’t to f—king yell at you. There’s no violence, and yelling, if at all, is a rare occurrence. If yelling occurs, there are consequences; you teach people how to treat you and you must always teach people how not to treat you as well.

1) They’re Sane

Finally, the most important quality in a human being that towers above all the others: Sanity.

My wife will march into a room and say, “Jordan, I need praise for all the housework I did today.” She says this calmly and gently. She doesn’t do the following:

Me: “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Her: (turns away), “Nothing.”

Ladies we f—king hate that.

John Mulaney agrees re: dating jewish women, for example. This goyem here agrees, and thinks our jewish sisters are on to something that the rest of us should take on!

Oh my god you have no idea of the happy daze I walked in after I realized that the SNGal (a shiksa, but no matter)  was the most sane individual I had ever had the pleasure of dating. Ladies, your relationship stock will SKY-ROCKET in your late 20’s (right when you should be thinking about long-term prospects anyway, how about that?) and attract the right man for you who will appreciate it.

If you are NOT sane…I can’t help you. But if you are sane, and you are reading this, oh my lord, if you knowingly marry a crazy person, I will personally come to your house and throw you into a volcano. I’ll be doing you a favor. It’ll be less painful and heaven awaits.

They don’t go through your phone assuming that you cheated on them because their last 3 boyfriends cheated on them and therefor you will too. They trust you. They know that if you cheat on them, that’s not a reflection of them.

They don’t isolate you from your friends and family.

Everything is not, “a fight,” if there is disagreement.

If you want to go home instead of stay at their apartment, they don’t threaten to kill you or boil your bunny.

They don’t actually try to kill you.

Yeah, that last one is pretty important.

So, to sum up, never settle for anyone who isn’t attractive, doesn’t share crucial values, isn’t smart, nice, and sane. You must have all five, especially the last part.

And this is all about them. What about YOU?

We’ll get to that.

JER

ONE LAST THING: 

I use my marriage as an example because, for no other reason, so far, so good. Married for 4, together for 7 and change, we both understand that there is no resting on laurels in a relationship. Beyond the amount of time that has passed since November 18, 2010, I have no idea what I’m talking about. I do not mean to suggest otherwise.  

Every day is a choice to make. Every moment is one to improve upon the last. As we go forward every day, I don’t win, she doesn’t win, the marriage wins.

Don’t Be THAT Guy: The Joy Killer

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This is the first in what I hope will be several attempts of mine to blog more often, maybe even build a platform for my writing partner Ashley Collins and I; we landed an agent for our book recently, but much more work need to be done! One step at a time. Once a week is better than no times a week, isn’t it? Also, perfect being the enemy of good, no more procrastinating.

You’ve heard this before; don’t be THAT guy. What does it mean to be THAT guy?

Generally speaking, it’s someone who upsets our social order. Depending on where you are from, this could mean different things to different cultures. For example, dropping a C-bomb in America is a very different thing from dropping one in England.

But here across the pond?

That guy who is the loudest moron at Thanksgiving dinner who won’t shut the f—k up about politics (Type-A personalities, this is you). That guy who texts during a movie. That guy who pisses on the toilet seat.  And so on.

Today’s post, however, and in most other, “DBTG,” posts, I’m going to ask you to not be this guy because I’ve been this guy. When you turn 40 (at least when I did), you start looking back. It’s the half way point. You look back not to wish you could go back and change things (waste of time and energy), but to learn from your mistakes, and I made a lot.

In fact, the day before my son was born, I made a mistake for the final time…I hope.

I was THAT guy who when someone tells me that they like something, I have to open my big fat mouth and explain why it sucks, thus taking away their pleasure. The Joy Killer. That was me. It’s rude, it’s narcissistic, and it’s wrong.

Example: Last Christmas, my wife and my sister-in-law are in the living room watching, that’s right, “Love, Actually.”

“UGG!” I moan as I shuffle into the room, “This again? You know this movie has nothing to do with actual love, right?”

Both ladies said something along the lines of, “Piss off, Jordan,” and went back to watching Bill Nighy and his manager get drunk and watch porn. I walked away with my tail between my legs. The fact that this article exists doesn’t matter. I had no right to do that.

But, that wasn’t enough to convince me that I was wrong. The birth of my son did the trick.

Thursday morning, November 30th, my wife is in (what we thought was going to be) the delivery room experiencing the early stages of labor. Our wonderful Doula Yana by my wife’s side, my baby-mama was actually enjoying herself (the major contractions hadn’t started yet). Yana puts on the song, “Beautiful Boy, Darling Boy,” by John Lennon.

I hear this, and believe or not, kept my big fat trap shut at first. I know, hard to believe.

Julie and Yana are both hold black belts in empathy for the men in their lives, and both inquired of my discomfort.

“John Lennon abandoned his son, Julian.”

I have an allergic reaction to parents who abandon their children, and to step-parents who divide and conquer. My late father, after he and my mother split up, never stopped letting my brother and I know that we were number 1. Our parents are gone but our step-parents remain in our lives in a close and loving way. I have examples to follow. Other people aren’t so lucky.

No, Yoko Ono did not break up the Beatles (they broke themselves up just fine) but she did drive a wedge between John and his relatives, or at least it’s alleged.

Irrelevant. I just couldn’t let them enjoy the moment because FEELINGS.

However, with the guidance of both my wife and doula, I was to finally poke a hole in one of my demons. John Lennon was a very complicated man with a beautiful but tortured soul who apparently never knew his father. He was in a lot of pain. Through that different lens, I saw him in a different light. And then?

Three days later, after our son was born, my wife and I played, “Beautiful Boy,” with our son and we both burst into tears.

We’ve played it every day at least three times since. As I typed this, I just had a little dance with Jack singing the words to him; I have the lyrics almost memorized. It’s one of the most lovely songs I’ve ever heard, and it’s a perfect representation of how my wife and I feel about our little boy.

I am grateful for Julie and Yana who set me straight and helped me wake up a little bit. You are entitled to your feelings. You are not, however, morally entitled to express them in any way you see fit. Other people matter. It is your obligation to consider their feelings. Not be ruled by them, of course, but at least consider them. When it comes to enjoying art, I don’t care if it’s the Pussycat Dolls, let people have their pleasures. Keep your negativity to yourself.

Hemingway defined courage as grace under pressure. When you look back at all of your historical heroes, did they complain and make it all about them? No, they had problems and they worked to either accept them, or solve them. Like adults. If they can do that, then you can put up with a silly British rom-com that actually has some charm in spite of its flaws, let alone a sublime song about a father’s love for his son.

Please, don’t be that guy. I will never be that guy again. Until then, Enjoy this wonderful song that gives, “Imagine,” a run for it’s money in terms of sheer musical bliss.

  

#390: If It Hurts You, I Don’t Want It

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Good evening! Tonight, I ramble from a boys trip in Sin City (last one before I hunker down with the SNGal and commence, “Operation Nesting,” for the arrival of our son) of how you should actually hope for difficulty in life, in relationships, and in life. Enjoy!

Advice For Ladies: SAY WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND

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Courtesy of, “http://thechive.com/2015/05/20/welcome-to-the-mythical-world-of-lady-logic-30-photos/#gallery-item-23?NV:.lngnxd:NxOZ”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The following exchange happened, oh, I dunno, 45 bah-jillions times before I met my wife:

Me: Honey, what’s wrong?

Her: (shuffles) Nothing.

Me: Are you sure?

Her: Yes, I’m sure. (looks away). Nothing is wrong.

Me: Really?

Her: Yes really.

That goes on for an hour. Sometimes longer.  I spin in circles while she does something passive-aggressive. Calls an ex-boyfriend. Eats ice cream, then throws it up. Poops with the door open, whatever.

Then, an argument occurs that, on the surface, appears to be about who didn’t do the dishes, but is actually about her jealousy of me having female friends.

I would estimate that 99.9999999999% of my relationships festered into a cluster-f–k demise in no small part due to this kind of behavior. No, I was not perfect (far from it) but I’m just giving you my point of view, ladies, from the other side.

However, I was about 6 months into dating the woman I am now married to when the following occurred:

Julie (marches into living room): Jordan, can I talk to you for a second? I know you’re watching the game…oh, I’ll wait for Chris Tillman to blow it again.

Jordan: Thanks (Tillman gives up 6 runs at the bottom of the 2nd, and the inning mercifully ends). What’s up, babe?”

Julie: Well, the thing is, we are having a party tonight and I did all the shopping, and did all the dishes…I just feel like I didn’t get enough praise for that.

Jordan: Oh. You’re absolutely right, babe. I’m sorry. I really appreciate you doing all the hard work. I apologize.

This went on for a year and a half. We would have a problem of some kind that I wasn’t aware of, and Julie would calmly explain it to me. Then, one day, it dawned on me…no woman I have ever met has done this before.

No passive-aggressive nonsense. No playing of games. Straight talk. To the point.

She will actually march into a room and tell me in clear and concise language what is on her mind. No yelling. NO YELLING.

Whether she is correct in seeking praise is irrelevant (she is). What matters is that she is a black belt at communication. And, “miscommunication,” is uttered as a reason for divorce just as much as, “irreconcilable differences.”

Ladies, do you have any idea of how awesome this is??? I almost married her on the spot. Of course, she already had an engagement ring on that I had given her, so I was covered.

If you have a problem, but you can’t find the words, take a breather. Go for a walk.  Better yet, if he asks you what’s wrong, say, “I can’t quite find the words yet, I need to think about it, and I will get back to you, okay?”

It is so nice to be married to a woman who is nice as well as sane.

Idiocracy Alert: People who Text in Movies

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The wonderful picture above (just a teaser) can be found here. Well done, Oatmeal!

AMC Century City Multiplex, October 9, 2014, 11:30AM

My wife just went out of town for the weekend. Part of me was looking forward to being able to stay up late and watch horror movies. The other part of me freaked out a bit. After all, who is going to have breakfast with me and ask for back rubs? I love my alone time but I also love the SNGal. Oh well. I think that missing her but loving my boy-time is a good mix for a long-term marriage. No worries; besides, she’ll be back in time for game 4 of the ALCS (Go Orioles!)

Anyway, after dropping her off at the airport, I headed over to a local multiplex to take in a screening of, “Gone Girl.”

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This is me before the screening, both a little sad because I miss my Mrs, but also…because I was going to the movies.

Where, for the past 5 years (I’m not embellishing) at every single screening I’ve ever attended, some asshat starts texting in the middle of the movie. Granted, I was getting paid to see this film, but still, it was a film I wanted to see, and ended up loving it.

But a funny thing happened during the screening that literally has not happened to me since W was President. The lights dimmed and 7,234,248 trailers followed (because we all LOVE trailers and having all the major plot points spoiled, right idiots?), I got anxious. I looked around as a few people facebooked and instagramed. I thought it would be a matter of time.

However, as Ben Affleck described removing his wife’s skull…and as he gets home to discover that she’s gone…and the truth comes out…and hour goes by…and then the whole movie…

No one texted. No one talked. Everyone was super polite! We all laughed together, gasped together, we all became one as we allowed the film to hypnotize us. As well we should have.

I was tempted to shout, “Everyone, coffee on me!” but thought better of it.

Seriously, though, this was the first time in five f–king years that everyone behaved like adults in a Los Angeles movie theater.

I have written on this subject before here, and yap about it nonstop on my show. Have things changed?

Doubtful. A friend suggested that the morning shows usually are full of polite folks such as myself who are courteous and don’t believe the world runs on their feelings. Another said that folks in Portland, Oregon never text during movies. My sister-in-law said the same of chaps and birds in London. Is this an LA thing, then?

Highlights over the years:

  • Man on Fire, 2004, The Grove: dude’s phone goes off just as Denzel is putting two bullets in a bad guys. He starts yapping. We complain. His response, “It’s my wife, guys.” Thank you, Beta Male pussy, for an accurate snapshot into your marriage.
  • Saw 3D, 2010, Santa Monica 5: Hard-R-rated horror flick. Not only are there three under-17-year olds who won’t stop texting, there is also a family of five in the front row with a median age of 5. CHILD ABUSE.
  • Lincoln, 2011, The Landmark, Westwood: Just as the film begins, older dude starts texting. And looking at porn (not kidding). We ask him to stop. His response, “I’m a doctor, and I’m concerned about my patient, so I guess I’ll leave.” To his credit, the lying sack of shit actually got up and left. Maybe he wasn’t lying; maybe he really was concerned about his patients WHILE looking at naked girls. Whatever.
  • Guardians of the Galaxy, 2014, Downtown Disney AMC: Flat-topped idiot starts texting. Won’t stop. We ask management to intervene. They do. He stops. 20 minutes, he starts again. I leave and get the manager. They come back and ask him to stop. This happens two more times. I don’t know if I enjoyed the movie. This asshole prevented me from knowing either way. HAPPY, PRICK?

All of us polite folks can’t stand it when someone starts texting, but let’s face it; the biggest reason most of us are afraid of saying something is that we don’t want to get a bullet in the head. Los Angeles is known for it’s retarded gang culture, and it is true that someone who doesn’t care about other people just might be a sociopath being willing to put a bullet in your head.

So, the solution is to get management involved (as quality control is their responsibility) but even if you are successful, you still lose overall, because you are knocked out of the film’s hypnotic hold. You miss a scene, a detail here in there, you’re thinking about your recent confrontation that you didn’t want, and the movie experience is ruined. All because some inconsiderate jerk had to find out if his selfie got any likes on instagram.

We continue to have an epidemic of morons who don’t give a shit about other people. All id, no guilt. They shave their balls at the gym (true story), they text during movies, they talk on their cell phones while driving even though it’s against the law, and their instagram profiles are chock-full of selfies.

What to do? I say shame, because shame works. At the moment, we ask nicely to not text or talk during the movies. Fucktards do it anyway. Time to switch tactics. Short of throwing them out (like Alamo Drafthouse does, which would be nice), and calling them out for what they are (which is impractical) I say that an animated talking duck walks out before the movie starts and says the following:

“If you text during the movie, you are a selfish idiot who can’t stop facebooking or checking the score. You literally cannot sit still for 90 minutes and enjoy something. You do not care about other people’s experience, only your own. You are distracting people but you don’t care. You suck. To everyone else, please enjoy the movie.”

Call them out. Seriously, we have to stop coddling people, folks.

For the first time, I have hope. With the IPIC opening up in Westwood, the Alamo Drafthouse coming to Los Angeles, and my recent experience, I see now that I am not alone. Time will tell.

 

What Works For Me: The Zone

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Sunday, September 28, 2014

So there I was the other day, in the middle of the toughest run of my life. It was only tough because it was the longest; 10 miles. I was aiming to beat my previous record of 8 miles, during which I broke my previous record before that of 6 miles and change during my very first 10k race.

The first 4 miles were a pain in the ass. My knees ached and my belly (nicked-named, “Wilbur” by my wife) seemed to scream to me, “Jordan, you suck, go home and order pizza.” But I kept going. And then a funny thing happened around mile #7.

I didn’t care.

Miles, 8, 9 came and went, and finally mile 10 arrived (1 hour and 45 minutes later, not bad!). I slowed down to a walk and strolled home. I spent the rest of the day watching my beloved Philadelphia Eagles get a good lesson in humility, enjoyed a cheat day of pizza and wine, and woke up the next day….wait for it…not really all that sore at all.

I was a bit confused until my wife’s lovely friend Jackie said, “Uh, Jordan, you’ve been training for this 1/2 marathon since June. You’ve trained up to this, hello???”

I was reminded of how running 4 miles would have intimidated me back in the day. Now it is practically a warm-up. A listener invited me to this last week and I almost turned it down, as it was only a 5k.

So, about that Zone. Athletes talk about it in the context of feeling, and not thinking. A pitcher throwing a no-hitter is said to be in the zone. A writer is in the zone when great word combinations just pour out of his head, pass through their fingers and into the word processor. A seductive lothario stud-muffin gets into the zone when he flirts with women effortlessly with no fear, because he’s not thinking, he’s just being.

You ever see Star Wars? Using the force? Same thing.

All good examples, but you might ask, how do you get to the zone? My answer that has worked for me is very simple; TRY.

Try, and train. Try, train…and begin.

That’s it, there is no life hack for this one. You must begin. Seems simple, but so many of us (present company included) make excuses. No excuses, play like a champion.

Running-wise, I get to the zone every run simply by understanding that the first 4 miles are going to be the hardest. The zone usually shows up when I stop thinking about how hard the run is, and focus on the music and meditation and, my phone’s running program gently tells me, “You have run…8 miles….at a 10-minute mile…pace, split pace, 10 minutes and 2 seconds, keep going, Jor-dan.  And watch out for that bus.”

Diet-wise; I don’t remember what is feels like to crave sugar in the morning. I just stopped eating it, and the first week, like the first four miles above, sucked. Now it’s the new normal. Eat healthy for one meal only. Now do another. And the next. Do it for a week. Do it for a month. The 30-day challenge thing is quite trendy at the moment for a reason…it works. Bad habits are easy to make, while good ones require effort. That’s a good thing. What isn’t earned, isn’t appreciated.

Most of us are in denial the change is a glacial process. Please build a bridge and get the hell over it. There are no get-rich-quick schemes, there is no magic pill, and anyone who says otherwise is trying to sell you snake oil.

To sum it all up, I have made successful changes in my personal and professional life by getting into that zone. I get into that zone by showing up and taking things a day at a time. I keep my gains small, but stick to my plans so that they add up exponentially, every day, little by little. Someone wiser than me said that 90% of life is showing up and following through. They’re right.

Again, don’t feel like working out? Too bad. But just do this; put on your workout clothes. 1/2 the time, you’ll keep going. Better than none of the time.

Don’t feel like running? Run the first 4 and see how you feel. Just starting out? Run 1 mile. Wait two days, and do it again. Then next week, add a 1/2 mile. Muscle through and before you know it, well, you know.

Don’t feel like eating healthy and you’re craving sugar (or its evil step-child, high fructose corn syrup)? Drink a glass of cold water, and stuff your face with lean meats and vegetables. Keep a food diary, write down every bad food you want during the week and save it for your cheat day.

Writers, don’t feel like writing? Got writer’s block? BULLS–T you’re being lazy. Start writing. I don’t care what it is, it could be nonsense. Just. Start. Writing. Give yourself a daily quota (Stephen King writes 2,000 words a day, every day).

Looks like Nike was on to something. Just do it, and the zone will come.

Note: this is a first in a new series of blog posts. I hate calling this an advice series, because most gurus and life coaches are sociopaths, and I don’t want to be anything like them, hence, I’m just going to tell you what works for me; hence the title. 

Healthy Mashed Potatoes Recipe

I can’t stand hippies. Whenever one of those patchouli-smelling stoned morons tells me that their soy steak/icecream/whatever is better than the real thing, I usually tend to smile politely and then eat a steak just to spite them.

That being said, my wife and I have figured out how not only to fake the real thing, but to make it taste even better. Obviously there are a lot of recipes around the net, but this is our take. A video will be uploaded shortly.

INGREDIENTS

1 cauliflower head

2-3tbs of olive oil

1 cup chicken stock

2 cans Northern White Beans

1 onion, chopped

3 garlic cloves, chopped

5 tbs sour cream

Spices to your liking: creole seasoning, salt, pepper, cayenne, ect

TOOLS

Medium sauce pan

Food processor (this is the game changer)

Deep Skillet

Steamer

DIRECTIONS

1)   Wash cauliflower and chop off the green stuff and the stems

2)   Boil about 2 cups of water in the sauce pan and steam the cauliflower about 12 minutes, until you can stick a fork through it with no effort

3)   Heat the olive oil in the skillet and toss in the onion. When it is browned to your liking, throw in the garlic and cook together until it smells like Italy

4)   Throw in the beans, then the chicken stock, and simmer. You want the chicken stock to be just covering all the beans. Get them beans nice and cooked. Mix in your spices to your liking. You’ll be doing a lot of taste testing as you move forward.

5)   Throw it all in the food processor with the cauliflower, and MIX!!!! Put in the sour cream at this point.

6)   Then, put it all back into the pot and simmer until it gets the consistency you want. The more you let it simmer, the thicker it’ll be. I like to simmer it on low, then turn the heat off and wait a few minutes.

7)   Enjoy!

My Wedding, Honeymoon, and defense (sort of) of Walter White

Tonight, Sue and I return to discuss:

  • My wedding, and the wonderful news that it was boring (i.e. no one died)
  • My honeymoon, and how I spent a ton of moolah.
  • How “Back to the Future” teaches us that women really want a nice guy…and incest
  • Why I have a slightly different take on the great, “Breaking Bad”
  • And more!

A Day in the Life of a Hollywood “man”.

I recently found this online somewhere, from a blog from someone I’ll call, “Robert.” I thought it was interesting enough to share with you all.

This Saturday morning, I’m going to go to the gym. I, of course, will not do so without first telling everyone about it on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Because everyone needs to know that I’m going to the gym.

Once I arrive at the gym, I will be sure to “check in” at the gym via one of the previously mentioned social networks, so that everyone knows where I am. On the way to the locker room to change, I’ll be sure to take a phone call from a “friend” and ignore the signs asking me to not talk on my phone while in the locker room. How dare they tell me what to do?

Then, I will jump on the treadmill and yap on my cell phone even though there are signs asking me not to, and when I’m done talking, I’ll text and surf facebook to see if anyone “liked” my status, and be crestfallen if no one does. I’ll be sure to only walk or do a light jog and not hit the weights because I have no doubt that steady state cardio is the way to weight loss, and I can eat anything I want and just work it off in the gym.

I'm AWESOME

Also, I’ll be sure to wear sunglasses, and if I do use a machine, hog it even though people ask me to alternate, and I’ll also be sure not to wipe off my sweat. I’m going to do this because I can, and no one has any right to tell me what to do or how to behave.

Then I’m going to go to the locker room, walk around buck naked with my balls hanging out while I head to the shower without flip flops. I’ll be sure to hock loogies while I’m in there, and yap some more on my cell phone once I get back to my locker. I’ll also remember to have a carb-filled “recovery” drink waiting for me and admire myself in the mirror as long as possible in front of the other guys. I might even consider shaving my balls at the sinks if I feel like it.

Then, I’m going to get into my car to get out of the parking garage, and spend 5 minutes with a line of cars behind me because I can’t figure out the ticket thing, even though I’ve been coming to this gym for over a year.

Then, I’ll get on the highway and not check my blind spot because I’m trying to update my facebook status while going 90 in a 65. But don’t worry, I won’t hit anyone. It’s very important that everyone knows what I think about the latest political opinion of mine that I got from a pundit on MSNBC. My opinions matter because they are as real as furniture.

Then I’ll go to the movies. I’ll sit in the middle of the theater and start texting. The previews will start and I’ll keep texting. Oops, I almost forgot to check in on Facebook. I’m cool for seeing, “Man of Steel.” The movie will start and I’ll keep texting. I won’t even turn the brightness down because how else will I be able to see my screen?

I’ll be sure to keep a running tally on how much this movie sucks on Twitter. Because my opinions are as real as furniture and as important, more important, than yours.

After the movie, I’ll go get a healthy lunch of a footlong subway sandwich and a diet coke.

Then I’ll get on facebook again and see if anyone has liked my status from before at the gym. I’ll also look at my ex-girlfriend’s page to see if she’s single yet. She has no right to be happy after dumping me. How dare she be happy?

I’ll go on facebook, again. I get invited to a friend’s house-warming party tonight, last minute, but they are in the process of getting married and are very busy, but is that my problem? Besides, there might be a better party to go to because in Los Angeles, it’s all about networking. I put my response as, “maybe.” They’ve known me since college, they’ll get over it.

Then, a girl I’ve never met who is really hot and has 3,234 friends on facebook invites me to a club opening tonight in Hollywood. Sure I’ll go to that! That’s awesome. Even though I have to buy a ticket for $100, so what? That sounds awesome.

I go home to my $2500 a month condo that my parents are paying for, take a shower and spray a liberal amount of AXE body spray all over my pube-less chest. I spend 10 minutes putting gel into my hair to get that, “No effort at all” look that I’ve perfected. I then take a selfie and put it on Instagram. I then delete it because I don’t want people to think I’m gay.

I drive to Hollywood and pay $20 for parking. I get in line and notice that it’s mostly full of guys wearing the same thing I am; a button-down Ed Hardy shirt, untucked, with jeans and loafers. Many of them are texting. I “check” myself in to the hottest club in Hollywood because I want people to know that I’m here because I’m awesome.

An hour, I finally get in. I only have $100 cash on me and they are only accepting cash for the ticket. I now have to use my AMEX that my rich father pays for. I get into the club and most people are standing. I see the girl who invited me. I try to talk to her but she’s texting and puts her hand up. I check myself in to the club “with” her but she doesn’t approve it on her wall. What a bitch.

I see a guy I work with at William Morris but I ignore him because he’s such a douche; he’s so nice, he’s, like, interested in other people’s opinions and actually gives sincere compliments. What a complete pussy. He’ll get no-where in this town, like he’s ever going to be assigned to a desk. I see Gavin, Paul, Gavin, Dakota and Becky from the office at a table. They invite me over and they give me a shot. For once, I’m getting somewhere.

An hour later I’m wasted and stuff. Is it an hour? No, it’s 2am. I blink my eyes and go get my credit card from the bar. I went to the bar? Awesome! I blink my eyes again when I see the, “$646.45” charge. Whatever; how else am I going to get girls to sleep with me unless I buy them drinks? That’s totally how it works. I write, “CASH” on the tip line, take my card and stumble away.

Whatever, I can totally drive, fuck you. I get behind the wheel of my Porsche Cayenne and ignore the asshole who suggests I get a cab. It’s not like I’m going to get a DUI. Piss off. I drive back to my condo and nothing bad happens. I think I may have dinged a parked car or something but whatever, he’s probably a Republican.

Once home, I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow, so I order pizza and eat the entire thing. I get on facebook and see if anyone likes my statuses. Nope. Whatever. I go to sleep.

I recently found out that the author of this post, Robert, was found dead and mutilated on the side of the 405s freeway near the 101N exit. A Tarbarian Devil Dragon was seen flying away, its jaws bloody with the entrails of a douche. When asked for the comment, the Dragon said, “There is no hope for the human race, but I do my best.”

 

 

 

 

 

SNG RECIPE: New York Sirlion Steak with Red Wine Cream Sauce

It’s been way too long since I a) have done an honest to God blog post and b) shared a recipe. I’m currently working out like an bandit, but also eating properly. I’m getting married in a few months, and I do not want a double-chin on my wedding day. I’m only getting married once. This is it. Those of you who have been through the wedding planning process know exactly what I’m talking about.

Anyway, getting into shape is 90% diet and resistance training (sorry folks, but if you think you’re going to lose weight and look fabulous at the beach while eating whatever you want and only doing cardio, you’re in for bitter disappointment. Furthermore, if you are able to read a magazine or text (you suck) while exercising, you will not lose weight. Period.

Anyway, I am no means a chef, or a nutritionist, or a doctor. Thank heavens. Take everything I say with a grain of creole seasoning. I simply follow the advice of this guy, who was a guest on my show last year and knows what he’s talking about. Tom is a lovely man as well as a sincere human being (us Libertarian-minded folks tend to be) and I’m going to plug his work any chance I get. Quite simply, it’s high fat, moderate protein, and low carb.

I also use a wonderful program called, “My Fitness Pal” to keep track of everything, and since I’m obsessive that way, I dig it. No, they aren’t paying me to plug that either…yet.

Anyway, on to today’s recipe, the Steak with Red Wine Cream Sauce. Believe it or not, I originally found this recipe in Steven Schirripa’s “A Goombah’s Guide to Life.” I’m a big fan of the guy and his books are hilarious, but most of the recipes will lead you to an early grave. This one won’t. Because, as we know know, Saturated Fats aren’t bad for you. Quite the opposite in fact.

Anyway, here it is, slightly modified (i.e. the Sensitive Nice Gal gave me some pointers). It all started with Steve, hence he deserves original credit.

INGREDIENTS

  • half a stick of butter
  • 3 medium sized New York Sirloin steaks, defrosted (I recently used one big one that was about 13 ounces total). Try that. This will serve 2
  • salt and pepper
  • 1 onion, sliced
  • 2 garlic cloves, slice and diced
  • 1/2 cup of dry red wine (I did it with Cabernet Sav)
  • 1/2 cup (give or take) of heavy cream

TOOLS

  • Medium-sized Skillet
  • Big knife (think what Glenn Close tried to kill Michael Douglas with in, “Fatal Attraction”
  • Cutting Board
  • Wooden Spoon
  • Tongs
  • Stove Top
  • Oven
  • tin foil
  • cooking sheet
  • measuring cup

DIRECTIONS

  1. Throw on a Frank Sinatra Record (I like, “Come Fly with Me).
  2. Pour yourself a glass of that dry red wine. Raise a toast to Steve, and me, for sharing this recipe with you.
  3. Pre-heat the oven to 350 (this means turn the oven on to 350 and wait about 10 minutes…you can do #4-7 while you wait)
  4. Take out the steak (which you’ve already defrosted) and season it with salt and pepper.
  5. Put the skillet on the stove, and turn the heat to about medium high
  6. throw in the butter. Watch it melt. Savor the smell.
  7. Put the Steak in the skillet and cook it for about 3-5 minutes on either side, depending on how you like your steak. Try to get a nice seer on it. Afterwards, put it on a plate and set it aside
  8. SIDE NOTE – at some point, before step 12, you will put your steak in the oven and cook it for about 10 minutes, once again, depending on how you like your steak. I like ‘em medium, so for me, this is about 8 minutes. Up to you.
  9. Don’t toss out the remaining butter. Throw in the onions and cook ‘em good. Mix ‘em around, dry off the tears until they are nice and loose (like your sister).
  10. Then, toss in the garlic and mix it all around. Get them cooked but not too brown. Cooking takes time and precision. No way around it if you want this to taste good
  11. About 5 minutes later, toss in the red wine. Use the wooden spoon (which you’ve been using already) to mix it all around. Get it bubblin’! After about 4 minutes, start pouring in the cream (no more than half a cup). Do it until the color of your goo is somewhere between red and brown. Your goal here is to have it thick like soup, not runny like water.
  12. When the taste and feel is what you want, turn off the heat, take the steaks out of the oven, and put them on the skillet with your awesome goo for about 4 minutes. Take the skillet off the stove and set it aside. Mix the goo around with your steak.
  13. At this point, your date has arrived and brought a side dish of some kind. I suggest a nice Italian salad with a balsamic vin. Pour them and yourself a glass of wine.
  14. EAT!
  15. Whatever happens after that, is up to you

Anatomy of a Break-Up

Time to Find Some More of You…

If you are reading this, then odds are, you are a fan. I really appreciate it, I love doing this show for you, and at the moment, there are about 5000 of you on a weekly basis. That’s awesome, but I think we can do even better.

So, I would like to know a little bit about you. Please take this brief, anonymous 2-minute survey, and it will go a long way to finding more fine people just like you! I promise, the results will be kept completely confidential.

Thanks

Jordan

My Journey to Becoming King of Sparta…

Don't Judge Me

Introduction

Almost everyone reading this has, at some point, attempted to lose weight and get into shape. I know I have. I know I tried. And until recently, I failed at every attempt and gave up. Quite frankly, a cheesesteak and coke was an easier path to take than disciplined resistance.

However, I have turned a corner and finally pulled it off. If you told me two months ago that I’d not only lose 15 pounds, but be able to keep it off and keep going, I’d tell you you’re nuts.

So now, I wish to share with you how I did it, so that perhaps you may do the same. Let me give you a heads up; there is no magic pill. There is no secret to getting and staying in shape, at least for the most part. Everything I’m about to tell you is pure logic and reason, as it was for me in the past. I simply lacked the knowledge and motivaton to put the pieces together properly, and now that I have, I hope to help you do it too. Continue reading My Journey to Becoming King of Sparta…

It’s that time again…Marketing!

Wanna help the SNG make it big?  Keep this ship afloat and get even more hilarious shows out there?  With just a couple of clicks (3 minutes worth), you can help make it happen!

  1. “Like” the show fan page on Facebook, and suggest to your friends that they do the same
  2. Follow the show on Twitter, and suggest to your twitter friends that they do the same
  3. Leave us a review, 2-3 sentence tops, on our iTunes page
  4. Anything else you can do to spread the word!

Thank you all very much!  New show up next week!


CES!!!!!

Now here..we…go…

For the first time, as a journalist, I will be attending CES, starting tomorrow.  What a blast it’s going to be, can’t wait.  My good buddy Steve Silver (of www.stevesilver.net) is already there, and reports good things, including seeing Darth Vader himself walking around announcing the release of Star Wars on Blu-Ray.  I am hoping sincerely that Mr. Lucas will finally fix the “Greedo shooting first” thing, he’s monkeyed with it so long, I can’t imagine he wouldn’t at least consider it.  I have no use for the prequels, still love the original trilogy, can’t wait to get it.

So what is the SNG (me) doing there?  Isn’t this a show about dating, relationships, love, and all that jazz?

Well, a couple of things…

First of all, this is me, five years ago, at the AVN’s.  I am not attending this year; once was enough.

Yes, the Internet is for porn, PORN PORN, thank you Trekkie-Monster.  But my major confession is, unlike most guys, Porn really doesn’t do it for me.  Indeed, I have a CD-ROM with “Productivity Software” in my CD case, but I never look at it.  Seriously.  Just as women are issued, along with their breasts, emotional roller-coasters and the Season DVD’s for “Grey’s Anatomy” when they are born, there are a few women out there, I’m quite certain, that have no interest in McDreamy or McSteamy or whatever bullshit they call television these days.

Likewise, porn does nothing for me really.  For once, I agree with the feminists; it’s not sexy, and can be quite demeaning to women.  This coming from the dude who just wrote an article about breasts, you might want to take what I’m saying here with more than a grain of salt.

I have never encountered a woman who wanted a money shot to the face.  I simply cannot imagine that, nor could I imagine ever dating or marrying a woman who wanted me to do that.  The producers of porn know their audience, and so do I; my buddies and I once stumbled into that Porn Convention in Vegas a few years back.  It was fucking disgusting.  A lot of sleazeballs and truck drivers, who bang hookers and don’t even know how to string together the words, “I love your work,” to Misty Canyon or Chastity Jones or whatever chick with daddy issues and fake tits is signing her new DVD of “Anal Pleasure Injuries 7; Revenge of the Anus.”  The fans just drool and stroke their penises as well as their goatees.  My friends and I lasted an hour, and got the hell out of there.

Man I miss that place.

So no, I’m not into Porn, but with the advent of 3D, will seeing people bang in three dimensions be a game changer?  Perhaps, and not just for the world at large, but for me.  I’ll have to try it once, I suppose, once I get my 3D TV (my PS3 just uploaded the firmware for 3D, all I need is the new display).

It was interesting, reading this article from last year’s CES, how the Porn industry is being cautious.  I’m surprised.  Having seen Kelly Brook naked in “Piranha 3D”, that was but a sneak preview of the possibilities (and how, my review of the underwater swimming scene, two boners up).

But since men who enjoy porn at home tend to, uh, molest themselves, while watching porn, I wonder what the glasses and the possible headaches will do in the way of the “releases” that happen while ah fuck it Masturbating to porn.  Again, I don’t do that, but I’m the minority here.

In the past, Porn tends to be the game changer with new technologies.  It sank Beta when they refused to support Porn, and VHS won that battle.  Ditto Blu-Ray (if I’m not mistaken).  These sleezeballs know they have a billion dollar loyal industry, so accusations of exploitation aside, there is money to be made.  As long as the tech goes along, I cannot imagine why porn would not dive vagina first into this new world of three-dimensional boobies and cock.  Why not?

If the SNG would consider giving it a try, they must be on to something.

Check out this video, an Avatar Porn parody, it made me laugh.  Thank you Gizmodo.

Second, this convention itself.  I am there to drum up business and listeners, but also listen and learn.  There are so many opportunities to meet nerds, uh, fellow nerds, learn about online marketing, meet booth babes, check out the latest 3D technology, meet booth babes, attend seminars with the creators of Lost, check out booth ah fuck it the BOOTH BABES.  The way this works is that you walk the floor, you see some hottie with some gadget in your hand, and she pulls you in and before you know it you are talking with some dorky bald guy.  Let’s face it; hot chicks get stuff done.  Including getting me interesting in some hand-held device that will be gone in a year.  Or less.  I just like the idea of having eye candy AND nerd candy.

Finally, I love Vegas.  I really do.  I did a show a few weeks back with Mr. Silver on how much I love this town.  I can’t believe I almost left Southern California.  I highly doubt I would ever want to live there, but I sure do love to visit.  The place is a riot.  My favorite game, as of late, is to play “spot the hooker” when entering a casino they are truly EVERYWHERE.  I am going to Vegas again next month with the lovely young lady I am currently dating, and her two cousins.  Who are a bit younger than both of us, and I realize it is my duty to protect them. They may be over 21, but they have never been to Vegas.

Good times!