Taking a much needed vacation, Liz and I went down to Cape May, NJ, last week, and enjoyed several days in the sun. We chilled on the beach, crashed around in the ways, ate well and played … miniature golf.

Liz and I were down at Cape May last year, and in a heated battle to the very end–Liz even nailed a [i]hole-in-one[/i]–on the 12th hole–I squeaked out a one-stroke victory in a sudden death round. Well fought, but a sweet win.

Naturally, Liz was hankering for a rematch, whichTaking a much needed vacation, Liz and I went down to Cape May, NJ, last week, and enjoyed several days in the sun. We chilled on the beach, crashed around in the ways, ate well and played … miniature golf.

Liz and I were down at Cape May last year, and in a heated battle to the very end–Liz even nailed a [i]hole-in-one[/i]–on the 12th hole–I squeaked out a one-stroke victory in a sudden death round. Well fought, but a sweet win.

Naturally, Liz was hankering for a rematch, which I was more than happy to provide.

And things went just as well as I hoped. Only the opposite.

It wasn’t that Liz beat me, she crushed me. An all-out shellacking. For the 18 hole-course, she beat me by ten strokes. Count ’em, ten strokes, including sinking not one, but [i]two[/i] holes-in-one, both on the back nine.

$#@!

So now I’ll have to wait until next year to try and scrape my miniature golf manhood off the floor …

Celebrities come and go, but it’s rare that two so bold–two cultural icons–die on the same day.

Can you forget Farrah Fawcet in the red bathing suit? Or Michael Jackson’s moonwalk?

Neither one were saints–or even sane, at times–but they sure left an imprint. In my lifetime I saw them rise, rise again … and fall. Hard. Farrah had a comeback as a serious actress after her cover girl days were over, and then got kinda strange, before finally–sadly–succumbing to cancer.

And MiCelebrities come and go, but it’s rare that two so bold–two cultural icons–die on the same day.

Can you forget Farrah Fawcet in the red bathing suit? Or Michael Jackson’s moonwalk?

Neither one were saints–or even sane, at times–but they sure left an imprint. In my lifetime I saw them rise, rise again … and fall. Hard. Farrah had a comeback as a serious actress after her cover girl days were over, and then got kinda strange, before finally–sadly–succumbing to cancer.

And Michael, well … he’s another sort, who just became bizarre and sad and something else entirely, too, until cardiac finally arrest took him down.

Now that they’ve died I’m certainly not going to say that we should immortalize them as being more than they actually were, that we should ignore their flaws, but for the fun, for the magic they brought … they’ve earned a few permanent smiles.

I remembering watching live on TV Michael Jackson’s moonwalk performance at Motown’s 25th Anniversary special. No matter what I thought of his music at that time, it was an extraordinary moment. Mesmerizing. And I also remember Farrah Fawcet on Charlie’s Angels in all it’s cheesy terribleness that you just had to watch because, well … you know.

For reasons I’m not entirely clear about, over the years we’ve been putting more and more importance on celebrity–on fame–despite how ludicrous it usually is. But sometimes people pass through the collective consciousness that just become part of the fabric of how we experience life.

And better or for worse–and with some remarkable highlights in between–Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcet were two of those people.

The morning started off quite nicely. I had a decent night’s sleep, a quality work out at the gym. Simon got his walk, and I was showered and ready for the day. I was feeling good. On the way to the train, it wasn’t too hot, nice breeze came along. Thursday was shaping up.

When my subway came–the good ole F train–I didn’t have to wait; got a seat …

But squeezing in was a little bit of an issue. There was an empty spot in the corner of an L configuration, so I had to squeeze in betThe morning started off quite nicely. I had a decent night’s sleep, a quality work out at the gym. Simon got his walk, and I was showered and ready for the day. I was feeling good. On the way to the train, it wasn’t too hot, nice breeze came along. Thursday was shaping up.

When my subway came–the good ole F train–I didn’t have to wait; got a seat …

But squeezing in was a little bit of an issue. There was an empty spot in the corner of an L configuration, so I had to squeeze in between a middle-aged woman, and jackass in a suit, wearing sun glasses. Yep. That kind of a jackass. Okay. Fine.

Well, the woman gave me a dirty look as I tried to squeeze through (no, she didn’t move an inch to make it easier), and I’m-too-cool-school next to me, at one point, gave me a nice hard elbow. Grrrrrrr…. okay. I’m still not letting them get to me too much, just reading my paper, but still.

Along the trip the woman gave me a dirty look every time I turned a page or reached down to my bag, and Mr. Sunglasses gave me at least one other good bump.

Still … staying cool, feeling good. Just reading my paper, not going to let these wonks ruin my day …

And when I finally get off the train, glad to be away from them … I realize that my fly was open the whole time!!

I was at the chiropractor’s office the other day, and got a look at the x-rays taken of my back.

He put them up on the screen, and instantly said, "oh, no wonder you’re in pain." So I’m looking at the x-rays, checking for fractures or spots or … something … and going [i]yes, hmm, interesting, interesting … [/i]Meanwhile, I don’t know what the heck I’m looking at. Then he points to the x-ray and says, "here. look."

And then it was obvious.

Turns out, my hI was at the chiropractor’s office the other day, and got a look at the x-rays taken of my back.

He put them up on the screen, and instantly said, "oh, no wonder you’re in pain." So I’m looking at the x-rays, checking for fractures or spots or … something … and going [i]yes, hmm, interesting, interesting … [/i]Meanwhile, I don’t know what the heck I’m looking at. Then he points to the x-ray and says, "here. look."

And then it was obvious.

Turns out, my hip on the right side is four or five millimeters shorter than my hip on the left side! I’m uneven. Like he said, no wonder I’m in pain. It’s like having one tire on the car with less air the others. Eventually, you start tipping to one side, putting all the pressure on that one spot. Now, in the grand scheme of things, four millimeters might not seem like a lot, but when it comes to my back, those four millimeters are the difference between pain and relief.

The plan now is that he’s ordered me a small heel support for my right shoe, which, in theory, will even me out as I walk, and give me relief. We’ll see. I’m truly hopeful this is the answer, because it’s been about six years with this, and it would be soooooooooo nice to get this taken care of. Finally ….

All you really to need to know about [i]The Hangover [/i]is this: it’s Old School on steroids.

So if you liked Old School, you’ll The Hangover.

It’s about a bachelor party in Las Vegas gone very wrong–or right–depending on your point of view. The groomsmen wake up in their plush hotel suite the next morning–the room is trashed, they’re beat to hell–and the groom is missing. And they can’t remember what the heck happened.

So the rest of the movie is about these three guys retrAll you really to need to know about [i]The Hangover [/i]is this: it’s Old School on steroids.

So if you liked Old School, you’ll The Hangover.

It’s about a bachelor party in Las Vegas gone very wrong–or right–depending on your point of view. The groomsmen wake up in their plush hotel suite the next morning–the room is trashed, they’re beat to hell–and the groom is missing. And they can’t remember what the heck happened.

So the rest of the movie is about these three guys retracing their steps to find out just what they did, where they went … and if the groom is even alive.

If you’re looking for a laugh-out-loud crowd pleasing romp, this is your movie. You will laugh. Hard. A lot.

So last Saturday Rich Henn and I went to the Big Apple Comic-Con (me for just an hour), and then started a long night of boozing it up … with some unexpected consequences.

We started off at Dallas BBQs on 23rd Street and 8th Avenue for some crispy wings … and Texas-sized margaritas. For those of you who haven’t seen what a Texas-sized margaritas looks like … well … it’s big. 20 oz. Then I had a Texas-sized beer. And then another.

And then we went up to Hiddelberg on the UpperSo last Saturday Rich Henn and I went to the Big Apple Comic-Con (me for just an hour), and then started a long night of boozing it up … with some unexpected consequences.

We started off at Dallas BBQs on 23rd Street and 8th Avenue for some crispy wings … and Texas-sized margaritas. For those of you who haven’t seen what a Texas-sized margaritas looks like … well … it’s big. 20 oz. Then I had a Texas-sized beer. And then another.

And then we went up to Hiddelberg on the Upper East Side, and had another jumbo beer. Henn literally drank out of a giant glass in the shape of a boot.

Apparently, I found that perfect level is being completely blasted without quite realizing just how blasted I was. And then I had to go home. And walk the dog. Which is when things got really interesting. (Liz was away for the weekend, so Simon was all mine …)

Now, I’m pretty new to being a dog owner, so my experience walking dogs is limited to just the past few months. But I’ve learned anything, it’s this: drunken dog-walking is [i]waaaaaaaay[/i] different than sober dog walking. Or, more to the point, the dog walked [i]me[/i].

Simon did just fine. I, on the other hand, had quite the adventure, bobbing and weaving, stumbling from one corner to the next, with 21st Century Breakdown (Green Day’s new album) blasting on my iPod.

But some miracle, I made around the neighborhood without causing any damage I’m aware of …

And as much fun as it was, I’m in no hurry to try it again. Especially when Simon got me up at 6 am for his next walk … and I was still blasted. Now that was no fun. My head was spinning, my body ached … not good.

So if there’s a lessen to be learned here, it’s that, if I’m going to go out for beers, make sure Liz is home to walk the dog for me!

Last night … late … maybe around 2 a.m. or so, there was a massive storm. Thunder. Lightning. If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn it was World War III.

[i]KR-KAAM! [/i]

[i]KABOOM![/i]

Crazy stuff. Still, I kinda like storms, think they’re cool.

When Alex was roaming our place, storms didn’t seem to bother him. He usually just slept right through them. He’d look up when some thunder would go off and give a look of … [i]huh? did I hear something?[/i] … and go bLast night … late … maybe around 2 a.m. or so, there was a massive storm. Thunder. Lightning. If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn it was World War III.

[i]KR-KAAM! [/i]

[i]KABOOM![/i]

Crazy stuff. Still, I kinda like storms, think they’re cool.

When Alex was roaming our place, storms didn’t seem to bother him. He usually just slept right through them. He’d look up when some thunder would go off and give a look of … [i]huh? did I hear something?[/i] … and go back to sleep.

But Simon? The poor little guy. He scurried up onto the bed, right in between Liz and me, shaking. He was trembling so hard I would have thought he was literally freezing to death. His teeth were chattering. Simon was utterly terrified. Truly and utterly terrified.

We felt really bad for him at the time, but as Liz reports, he’s back in action today, being the loveable goofball that he is …

It turns out that Simon is a heckuva watchdog.

How do we know this? Well …

My old friend Paul has been visiting this past week, in from London. He’s stayed with me so many times over the years that he knows my friends–and the city–so I’m basically just the in innkeeper. He shows up, I give him a set of keys, and then I see him every know and then, as he’s off on vacation while I’m at work all day. (I’m still trying to figure out how I got suckered into that deal …)

The otherIt turns out that Simon is a heckuva watchdog.

How do we know this? Well …

My old friend Paul has been visiting this past week, in from London. He’s stayed with me so many times over the years that he knows my friends–and the city–so I’m basically just the in innkeeper. He shows up, I give him a set of keys, and then I see him every know and then, as he’s off on vacation while I’m at work all day. (I’m still trying to figure out how I got suckered into that deal …)

The other thing about Paul is that he’s got this extra gear that most people don’t have–I certainly don’t–and he can stay out all night, almost every night, when any normal human being would have collapsed by then from exhaustion. (He is a Brit after all, and they like their pubs …)

So the other night, oh, about 2:30 a.m., I hear a very slight click … and then Simon went into guard dog mode.

RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF RUFF … GROWL SNARL GROWL!

Which is great, I suppose, except that he was sleeping in our bed at time! Scared the crap out of me!

Simon goes tearing up to the front door, barking and growling and snarling like crazy, because Paul finally managed to drag himself in. Believe me, it’s great that Simon is protecting them home. We like that. A lot. But because Paul tends to come in late … almost every night … it’s given me a regular heart attack!

Simon is a darn good watch doggie. If only I can train Paul to come home at a human hour …

So it’s come to this. Finally.

About six years ago I hurt my back while on the racquetball court, and it’s never totally healed. I’ve been to doctors and massage therapists, I had an MRI, took anti-inflammatory pills and have been seeing a chiropractor regularly since a year after the injury.

Thankfully, the chiropractor I’ve been seeing for the past 6 months or so is really quite good–my back is definitely much, much better overall–but we were talking the other day when I went in foSo it’s come to this. Finally.

About six years ago I hurt my back while on the racquetball court, and it’s never totally healed. I’ve been to doctors and massage therapists, I had an MRI, took anti-inflammatory pills and have been seeing a chiropractor regularly since a year after the injury.

Thankfully, the chiropractor I’ve been seeing for the past 6 months or so is really quite good–my back is definitely much, much better overall–but we were talking the other day when I went in for an adjustment, when I finally came out an asked: [i]what is exactly wrong with my back? What’s the source of the problem[/i]?

I had always focused on [i]how[/i] I hurt my back, and lost track of what’s actually going on there. So he’s sending me for an x-ray, and hopefully they’ll find something that they can actually deal with. It’s not that I want there to be an injury, but there [i]is [/i]a problem. If all goes well, at least the results will give my chiropractor enough information so that he can really treat the injury.

We’ll see …

As a lifelong Yankees fan, I’ve been dying to get to the new stadium. And now that I’ve made it there, here’s my take on the Good, the Bad and the What Were They Thinking?

[b]The Good[/b]:

The new Yankee stadium indeed has a few things going for it. For one, the seats are angled much better than in the old stadium, so you don’t have to be all twisted around to watch the game. Also, the seats themselves are much better ergonomically designed, so even though they’re still plastic, theyAs a lifelong Yankees fan, I’ve been dying to get to the new stadium. And now that I’ve made it there, here’s my take on the Good, the Bad and the What Were They Thinking?

[b]The Good[/b]:

The new Yankee stadium indeed has a few things going for it. For one, the seats are angled much better than in the old stadium, so you don’t have to be all twisted around to watch the game. Also, the seats themselves are much better ergonomically designed, so even though they’re still plastic, they’re pretty comfortable, and there’s much more leg room than in the old stadium. Also, lots of cup holders, that’s good.

The scoreboard in center field is amazing. Talk about instant replay! Awesome quality. Really adds to the experience.

What I also really like is how open the thoroughfares are. There’s plenty of room to walk around between concession stands. Its airy. A big improvement. And walking in on the ground level is pretty darn impressive, with massive banners of the all-time Yankees hanging from the rafters.

And all in all, it’s very big and clean. All thumbs up.

[b]The Bad[/b]:

Yankees stadium is big. Way. Too. Big. The biggest problem is that it’s a stadium, and not a ballpark. You walk in and it’s this giant cathedral with white concrete and massive ceilings, so fine that it’s shouting–Don’t touch! It’s like visiting a museum. Well, I don’t want to visit a museum. I want to see the game!

When it comes to the actual game, in the stands, you’re too far from the field. It’s so … distant. There’s a level of being removed from the field experience that it’s hard to get energized about the action on the field. Why did they do this? It makes no sense.

The prices are outrageous. The seats alone are ridiculously overpriced, but here are a few other examples: A program is $10. Give me a break. And in the Yankees store, the cheapest T-shirt is $30! Who can afford this stuff? Beers are $9 each. The pricing alone is a slap in the face. The new Yankees stadium wasn’t built for the everyday fan; it was built for [i]rich people[/i].

When it comes to concession stands, well … where are they? They couldn’t give you a few more choices? Go to any other new ball park and you’ve got a much bigger selection. Plus, the Nathan’s hot dog stand where we were sitting ran out of hot dogs and french fries! Huh? Dude. Get your act together.

[b]What the Heck Were They Thinking?[/b]

The biggest travesty of the new Yankees Stadium is that is has no heart. It’s a cold, uninviting mausoleum. It’s Yankee Stadium for crying out loud! But you walk around the thoroughfares above the first level and there’s nothing but white concrete walls. What the heck were they thinking?

The Yankees are the greatest sports franchise in American history, and there’s not a single plaque on the walls. Not a banner, no Yankee blue. Nothing. You’re telling me you couldn’t hang some championship banners? Or have time lines along the walls detailing the history of the Yankees? How about some plaques? Some notices announcing Yankee records?

You’ve got a [b]$1.5 BILLION[/b] facility, and it’s essentially blank? Except along the outfield, which is essentially nothing but advertisements.

Good gravy.

[b]Final Thoughts:[/b]

It pains me to say this, but as it stands now, the new Yankee Stadium is an unmitigated failure. They blew it. They absolutely blew it. And you know what, I’m probably going to go to a lot more Met games from now on, because they got it way more right. I can’t believe I’m saying it, but that’s how it is.

My call to the Yankees: I’m begging you to fix your mistakes. Because if not, I won’t be coming around too often.