John was the most promising and talented contestant on The Apprentice this year. The show’s ultimate prize is a job with Donald Trump, right? To think that Trump chose to keep Chris over John, when the race was so close, is beyond me. Good luck having that 21-year-old sniveling hot-head in charge of one of your hotels. John’s worst quality was that he got a little too cocky, and I think that’s what The Donald really took exception to. Because he holds the patent.

On to The Contender. Frankly I was cringing as it started – but in reality (snicker) it’s an amazingly awesome show. NBC is plucking all the right heart strings with this one. You see the boxers, their families, where they come from, what they hope to gain, you know one of them blows his brains out after shooting wraps… and for the last 15 minutes of every episode, the week’s resolution is that they get into a ring and beat the Christ out of eachother. I enjoyed the show, thought the final bout was a lock (but would still be fun to watch), and then POW – total upset to boot. Forget the boardroom – this is the best reality television show EVAH. Yeah, I said it.

“When Jesus died for your sins he wore a crown of thorns, not a lobster bib“.

God and I have agreed to disagree many times over the last few years. Usually when he appears to me in my dreams and encourages me to purchase a semi-automatic rifle and shoot up an Arby’s. Obviously I haven’t flipped my wig to that extent. The Big Montana is frickin’ delicious.

But we’re getting close to a compromise, me and God. I absolutely hate seafood and apparently so does the big guy. God Hates Shrimp is a website devoted to the Bible’s many clues regarding our heavenly father’s position on aquatic life, and I encourage all of you to read it. Snacking on crustaceans is apparently akin to adultery, murder, coveting and buggery on the sin-o-meter.

You’d think that someone who took the time and effort to invent 40,000 different species of fish and sealife would be a more supportive parent. You’d think such an obvious parody of conservatives would be a lot less funny (see my thoughts on Jon Stewart). But well done, my falafel-eating friends. Credit where credit is due. Make sure you look at the T-Shirt page, too. Pinch the tail and suck the head, sinners.

I think that 6″4 is the perfect height, and I’m honored for being picked – by genetics, L. Ron Hubbard, Allah or whomever – to be part of such a wonderful club. You tower over 75% of the population, but thankfully don’t classify as freakishly tall. Basketball is a professional option, you get to put the star on top of the Christmas tree, it’s easy to forage for honeycomb and bird eggs – basically the pros far outweigh the cons. That is unless you’re shopping for trousers.

Saturday afternoon a friend and I went out for an early dinner but stopped at the mall beforehand since we were in the neighborhood. I had put some cash aside for new pants (as you do) and immediately ran into Filene’s to start what I knew from experience would be a long, arduous and disappointing process. You see, in addition to my long inseam (ladies?) I also have wide hips – size 38 to be exact. People who are my weight and height don’t usually have size 38 hips – I guess I just have to blame my pesky pelvis for that. So finding pants that fit – which don’t also look like I stole them from Mr. Creosote – is nothing less than an odyssey.

While I tried on pair after pair, my lovely assistant whipped around the store grabbing potentials to try on. Size 38 pants, off the rack, always have inseams of either 32 (too short) or 34 (too long). There are never 33 inseams to speak of, so I have to hunt high and low until I find a short one that’s a little too long, or a long one that’s a little too short. I came away with 4 new pairs that are varying degrees of ill-fitting, but passable. Just in case any of you were still wondering why I’m not a fashion model by now. Shaq has an easier time buying clothes.